#I call myself broken but it feels like the barriers that prevent me from giving myself wholly to my Domme are what are breaking down

[ahgasegotarmy116]

The Art of Etiquette Part 3 | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: Mr. Jeon gets your number and offers to drive you to the Modiste but don't really give you an option to say no Paring: f!reader x Etiquette instructor Jungkook Word Count: 3.5k~ Warnings: Like one cuss word but thats about it lol a/n: This took longer than I had expected to post but I hope you guys like it! p.s. roughly edited because I wanted to get it out asap lol

"So start from the beginning again. What exactly did he do?" I hear as Jesse's voice come through the speaker. "He's just trying to intimidate me" I groan, not wanting to relive it again.

"He thinks that that kind of tactic is going to work well enough to make me into a 'lady'. I really don't understand how some of these upper class people think. They're acting like it's the 18th century or something" I complain, walking around my room and putting away the new clothes I bought for this whole charade. 

"I mean they more or less are if they're still concerned about stuff like having a girl go through this whole song and dance just so the rich boys know that they're up for grabs now. It just doesn't make sense" he sympathizes. "I'm glad you agree" I say, relieved that I don't have to explain myself to him. "Well why don't you just talk to him about it?" he suggests. 

"James? I would but I don't want to make it seem like I'm trying to back out or complain about it. Plus my mother would never let me hear the end of it and she really might convince him to make me get a job instead. 

"No I meant Jungkook, or Mr. Jeon or whatever the hell you call him. He could probably answer your questions if you ask nicely" he taunts at the end. 

"Talk to him? He doesn't bother to initiate any sort of conversation with me, other than when he tells me to do something. Even when he asks questions he expects me to answer with a 'yes' or 'no' and stops me from asking him anything even if I try" I groan, disgusted at the thought of trying to speak to him like I would any other person.

"He would probably just reprimand me for not doing the homework he gave me since it probably has all the answers I'm looking for" I huff. "Have you done the homework?" Jesse asks, clearly knowing the answer.

"I read the spark notes okay" I admit rolling my eyes "So I know gist of it. I showed you how thick those books were right? There was no way I'm going to be able to finish all of them by Monday" I groan, tossing myself onto the bed. 

"Well it's either read or talk and if I were you I would talk to him and get on his good side. It would benefit you more in the long run" he say, stating the obvious that honestly I had not thought of, considering how much he infuriates me.

"At the end of the day though it's up to you babes" he finishes. We talk for a bit more before he has to go and he doesn't forget to remind me to read some more before I go to bed to which I brush off and wrap up the call to prevent any further nagging. But before I'm even able to lock my phone after ending the call I get a text from a random number...

Unknown: You have a fitting tomorrow so we'll be meeting there instead.

I frown for a second as I stare at the screen, contemplating if I should answer or not.

Me: Mr. Jeon?  I question making certain that my suspicions are correct.

Unknown: I see that no one has told you yet. Yes it's Mr. Jeon, I acquired your number from Matthew so as to ease our means of communication. He finishes matter o factly.

I stare at the screen again and contemplate how to respond but before I'm able to he sends another message. 

Unknown: I hope this hasn't made you uncomfortable. If you would like I can continue to send messages through Matthew instead. he offers after noticing my hesitation to respond 

Me: No this is fine, it would make things more convenient for the both of us. I answer, feeling almost as if a barrier between us has been broken down with this nonabrasive conversation we're having at the moment.

Unknown: Agreed. I just checked and noticed that I pass your college on the way to the modiste so I will pick you up instead. he sends, telling me more than offering. 

Me: You don't have to do that, I'm perfectly capable of getting myself there on my own. I reply, not appreciating the way he's gone about this.

Unknown: The location is quite far, farther than my house so it would be more cost effective for you if you were to simply accept my offer. Although I've already told your father and he said he would send someone over to pick up your car from the University. So unless you would like to walk there I suggest you come with me. There's the Mr. Jeon we all know and hate...we meaning me.

Me: Yes Mr. Jeon. I reply, knowing that I've lost the battle before it has even begun.

Unknown: I shall meet you outside the main building at 4:15. Sweet dreams. he finishes leaving me confused. 

'Sweet dreams? Sweet dreams?' I repeat in my head. 'That's the first remotely nice thing he's ever said to me. Why would he say that? He could've just ended it at 4:15.

Why Sweet dreams?' I shake my head hoping that would in some way get rid of whatever overthinking my brain starts to do but it's no use, especially since I still have it right in front of me. 

I change his name to 'Jungkook' because at least that way I can feel like I'm disrespecting him on a daily basis without his knowledge, assuming he will be sending me unnecessary reminders of stupid things he thinks I'll forget.

Knowing me though I probably would've forgotten it anyways since I kind of black out during our lessons at times. He talks so much that after my already mind numbing classes I can hardly focus on what he's supposed to be teaching me. 

~~~~~~~~

I walk down the front steps and see an all black car waiting right in front, leaving me to assume it's Mr. Jeon. "Get in or we'll be late" he says after rolling down the window. I roll my eyes and open the door, plopping myself down in the back seat.

"What are you doing?" he questions, looking at me through the rear view mirror. "Putting my seatbelt on?" I answer just as confused as he is. He takes a deep breath in and out and starts up the car, driving away before saying anything else. 

"Oh did you expect me to sit up front with you?" I ask now amused at his behavior. "Seeing as I am not your personal driver yes, I did expect you to sit up front" he says tonguing his cheek. 'Huh, so he does that when he's irritated. Noted'.

"Yet you gave me no choice but to drive me there" I argue back. "I did this as a favor so we would both show up on time. I guess I won't offer next time" he says and I can see how much he's trying to restrain himself. 

"Mr. Jeon did something happen?" I ask, genuinely curious as to why he's acting like this. He's usually upfront and intimidating, but never angry with me. Maybe a little irritated but the feeling is mutual. "No, now will you please stop being a brat for five seconds? We have a long journey and I would rather we spend it in silence than listening to your insolence" he says raising his voice. 

I decide that it's in both of our best interests if I remain quiet but it takes everything in me to do just that. 'Who does he think he is? Calling me a brat?' I scoff quietly to myself and put in my headphones, not missing the glare he sends me through the rear view again. I press play and rest my head against the window, deciding to get some rest instead of dealing with whatever attitude that's got him all messed up.

~~~~~~

"Wake up" Jungkook says once we get there. He looks back and finds me fast asleep with my headphones in, leaving him rolling his eyes and getting out of the car, making sure to slam his door on the way out. He goes around and opens the door I was lying up against and let's me fall a bit but catches me half way before I actually topple out of the car. 

"Hey!" I whine, now unfortunately being forcefully woken up. "We're here. Get out and wipe that drool off your face" he says and pushes me back in so I'm sitting upright and makes his way over to the building, not bothering to wait for me.

"What's his issue today?" I groan and reach up to wipe the drool off my face he had spoken about but I find none leaving me even more irritated with the fact that he's not only grumpy but he still has the audacity to try and tease me.

When I finally make my way into the building I'm met with so many different kinds of dresses and fabrics and ribbon and everything that you could possibly imagine that would be in a dress maker's shop. 

"This must be y/n!" an older woman, most likely in her sixties says as she comes up and gives me a little smile. "Hello" I say shyly, remembering the scolding that Jungkook had given me earlier until I glance over at him and see that he is giving me an even bigger scowl than he had before. 

"I mean it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance" I say giving her a nod. "She's still got a lot to learn" Mr. Jeon says and walk with the dressmaker and talks her through everything that we've planned to do today but I can tell she is already well versed but continues to let him explain all the same.

"Y/n" I hear him call out my name, leaving me bringing my attention back over to him after I had just started to look through the different bolt of fabric that are sitting on the various shelves. 

"Yes?" I say remembering to give him a verbal response. "Please go ahead and stand up on that stool over there and wait for her to come up and measure you" I look over at the area he's motioned to to make sure I know exactly where to go so I won't get scolded for not doing as I was told. "Yes Mr. Jeon" I say and make my way over and wait for her.

"Oh you're going to look beautiful in the gowns we're making for you!" the woman says as she happily continues to take my measurements. She notices my reaction and looks around for Jungkook and sees that he's on a phone call in the other room.

"It's okay I won't make them girly and pink". "How did you kno-" "A woman always knows, especially when I've been in this business for so long. Also don't feel a need to be formal with me love. I don't subscribe to that stuffy nonsense" says with a chuckle. 

"But you make dresses for them" I say confused with her stance on things. "It's good money dearie, plus I enjoy making them. I started sewing at the age of four believe it or not!" she says looking up at me over the edge of her glasses as she checks to see how long she'll need to make the dresses. 

"Are you clumsy at all?" she asks rather randomly if you ask me. "No not really, why?" I ask tilting my head slightly. "I just wanted to see if I should make the hem a bit shorter so you wouldn't step on it but I think you'll be just fine" she finishes and take a final look at me and at the measurements she's written down. 

"Perfect! Go ahead and sit down over there and rest you legs a bit while I bring out some dresses that you'll be trying on" she says and turns to make her way over towards the backroom. "Dresses? There's more than one?" I question and she unfortunately doesn't hear me since she's already out of earshot. 

"You'll be trying on at least five dresses today. Just so we can make sure we choose the right one" Jungkook says right behind me, scaring the shit out of me. "Sh- I mean, you startled me" I say placing a hand over my chest. "You'll live" he says simply and goes to sit on one of the chairs facing the stool I had been standing on.

"Are you going to just sit there and watch?" I question, seeing as he hasn't made moves to do much else. "It's one of my tasks of being your tutor" he says and fishes out his phone to respond to what I assume is another message. 

"Your job is to watch me try on pretty dresses?" I question, amused by the situation. "Yes y/n, it is my duty to make sure that the dresses we choose match the themes of whatever events we are going to, as well as being appropriate to the trends nowadays" he finishes and lowers his voice when he sees the seamstress come back. 

"I heard that" she says while rolling a rack of dresses into the room. "Do you see one you like?" she asks and motions for me to come closer. I look at the rack and see there are so many dresses of different colors and patterns and styles, I just don't know what to pick.

"Which one do you think I should try on?" I ask turning towards her. "Well why don't we let Mr. Jeon choose, since he so kindly reminded me that my taste is out of date" she says and winks at me, showing me she's teasing while simultaneously giving Jungkook the cold shoulder. 

"I did not mean it as any disrespect. What I was trying to say wa-" "Oh hush child, just come over here and chose a dress before I really start to get upset with you" she teases and he walks closer to the rack looking through the dresses while he sends a glance my way most likely debating on which one might suit me best.

He takes a second to think after looking through all of them but doesn't seem to find one he's satisfied with. Looking around the room for a second he finds another dress on display and walks over to it to take a closer look. 

"This one" he says almost bored and walks back over to sit in the chair he had been occupying moments ago. "He's cranky today isn't he?" she whispers to me and I nod my head quickly agreeing. "I'm glad you noticed too" I say and she walks to the back and grabs that exact dress in my size. "Go ahead and change over there and I'll grab some pins incase we need to alter it" she says and I do as I'm told. 

Coming out of the little dressing room she has I smooth the dress out and watch as her eyes light up. "This looks incredible on you! I don't even think I'll need to alter it at all!" she says excitedly. I smile at her and thank her silently and see Jungkook walking over to take a closer look. 

He takes in my figure from top to bottom and has me do a slight twirl to see it from all angles. "We'll take this one" he says and starts to walk over to the counter to settle the bill. "That's it?" I question her, confused as to how we actually managed to finish this all without me having to try on a bunch more. "I mean he did pick the perfect dress for you" she says walking me up to the full length mirror and I'm shocked at how much I love it as well. 

I twist and turn around a bit more to see the movement of the dress and the more I watch the more I fall in love with it. "You're right, this one's perfect!" I say and turn my vision towards where Jungkook had gone to and I notice that he's most likely been watching me this entire time. He clears his throat and fixes his posture to try to cover up for himself but I can see how almost bashful he looks from being caught in the act. 

"Why don't you go change and then we'll have this all settled by the time you're done" she says and ushers me back in the room again. "By the way, is there something going on between you two?" she questions, catching me off guard. "What do you mean?" I ask turning around to face her. "I mean I've never seen him look at someone like he just was a few moments ago" she points out, confirming my suspicions. 

"Plus, in all my years of him bringing his students here he has never once put in any effort to pick out a dress, and half the time the student ends up loving the dress while both Jungkook and I disagree but he lets them choose it nonetheless" she says and I take a look at myself in the mirror again, trying to asses if this is the one that I really truly want.

"It just seemed like he knew you and he knew exactly what would look good on you without even having to try" she says giving me a smug smirk. "No ma'am please it's nothing like tha-" "I'm just kidding child don't worry. I swear no one in your generation can take a joke anymore" she says and walks out of the room laughing at the slight panic I had started to go through.

~~~~

"Thanks for the ride" I say when we pull up to my house, this time having sat in the front seat. "No problem" he says and looks over at me, this being the first time he truly had this entire trip, or at least the first time I noticed. "Hey can I ask you a question?" I say, stopping before I reach for the handle to get out. "You just did" he says, this being one of the first times he's tried to make some sort of joke. 

I roll my eyes at him and I see a flash of an almost smile but it's gone as soon as it came, being replaces with his usual stoic expression. "How did you know what dress to choose for me?" I ask and watch as he gets awkward again just like he had done when we were back at the modiste.

He turns to look out the wind shield, this time giving me a full view of how the tips of his ears have gone a bit red from the question. "I'm not sure, I think having to go through that process so many times it just seemed like that one was the obvious pick" he says and gets out of the car.

"What are you doing?" I ask following suit and watch as he pulls the garment bag out and starts walking up the steps to the front door. "I'm making sure the dress stays well taken care of. I'll hand it to one of the staff when they open the door" he says and waits for me at the top of the stairs. Before I'm even able to reach for my keys I hear the door being unlocked and the face of my mother comes into view. 

"Oh hello, you must be Mr. Jeon" she says sending him a bright smile to which he reciprocates and bows a bit as a sign of respect. "Hello, I just wanted to make sure that y/n and her dress got back safely" he says and she waves one of the housekeepers over to carry it up to my room for us although it would've been fine by me if I could've just done all of this by myself.

"Well that was very sweet of you. Would you like to stay for dinner? It should be ready soon, plus we would like to show our gratitude to you for making such a long journey there and back for her" she offers. 

"Perhaps another time. I have a business meeting across town tonight but thank you so much for your generosity" he says, politely declining. "Well thank you again for bringing her home" she reiterates and I start to not so subtly try to usher her back inside.

"Come on mom he said he has to go" I say to her under my breath. "Well it was so nice to meet you Mr. Jeon. I hope we'll see each other again soon" she says, leaving me having to almost push her inside. 

"Thank you Mr. Jeon have a good night" I say and as I turn to close the door he says the same thing that had me over thinking just last night. "Good night y/n, sweet dreams" he says with a soft smile and heads to his car, driving off and leaving me with a confused mix of emotions yet again. 

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[blushingonmyknees]

Especially

CONTENT WARNING: This post includes consensual control of food and meal restriction

 It is now Tuesday evening and I am frantically packing and getting everything ready to head home for Christmas tomorrow afternoon. Time is drawing to a close on four days on intense explorations of submission with my Domme. I have requested many times that she break me – take me so deep into a submissive headspace that the very concept of disobedience seems impossible. This weekend I believe I reached that point.

I woke up this morning and started getting ready for work. I immediately thought of my lunch and how it was going to be the bland-ish rice and beans with corn and green beans. I remembered how it didn’t have much flavor last night and tried to remember to be thankful. I have asked to be treated this way and am getting exactly what I desire and deserve. I am so thankful my Domme is caring and takes care of me every step of the way.

The day began with my daily morning message to my Domme. In it, I thanked her for putting her property to bed last night when she did and making sure I woke up feeling rested today. I also thanked her for picking my lunch and asked if she will be deciding my dinner tonight.

I then headed to work and the first hour and a half of work was okay, minus all the Christmas treats in my office. I didn’t want to take the treats because I wasn’t entirely sure if I had permission to eat them and also because of COVID-19 and most of the treats were finger foods, with several people touching them.

By 9 a.m., my stomach was growling. I thought of food and kept having to remind myself I was having rice and bean leftovers for lunch today and to be thankful.

Around 10 a.m., I texted my Domme while on my break to let her know my stomach had been growling since 9 a.m. and that it must be really craving the rice and beans. I also wanted to make sure she received my morning message asking about deciding my dinner.

She responded and said she saw it and wanted to let me know she planned on deciding my dinner tonight and rice and beans wasn’t out of the question. She also wanted to know if there was anything in the fridge that needed to be used up before traveling tomorrow and teased that she can make me crave all sorts of things.

I let her know I crave whatever she trains me to and then joked that I could try and fit in the fridge, thinking of things that need to be be used up.

Around 11 a.m., I had to go to my manager’s office to make sure my time off for Wednesday afternoon was approved. We ended up chatting for about a half an hour about our families, COVID, and our favorite chicken restaurants. Just talking about food other than rice and beans made me hungry and also made me want to cry from frustration.

At Noon, I headed to lunch to have my rice and beans. I was hungry but when thinking of this dish I started losing my appetite. On the way to my lunch table, I noticed a small bag of salted peanuts left on the counter, which in my office means it is free and anyone could have them.

I strongly debated about grabbing the peanuts and adding them to my lunch. Anything with extra flavor sounded amazing at this point.

I resisted the temptation and headed to my lunch table with my rice and beans. I then texted my Domme a picture of my lunch and said, “Thank you for this lunch, owner.” She mentioned after receiving this text that she would love to meal plan every single one of my work lunches for a year.

I took a few bites of my rice and beans and attempted to eat as much as possible. I also texted my Domme at this point and asked if I may please ask for what I desired for supper. I let her know I was more than aware my request could be immediately denied without a second thought.

She allowed me to make my request and I asked if I may please do the Buffalo Wild Wings BOGO wings tonight. She then asked what the reason for making such a request was.

I confessed that I was craving it and wished I wasn’t eating my rice and beans. I was desperate for food and flavors but I was even more desperate to obey my Domme. I felt like she was breaking me quicker than expected and I thanked her for it.

She wanted a further explanation, so I admitted that all I had thought about today was food that I am not allowed to have. I didn’t want to eat my rice and beans much but was doing so because I know where I belong. I also made sure to say thank you for my lunch once again.

My Domme let me know I didn’t have to clear the bowl for lunch but that she found it interesting how my mind was preoccupied with what I was denied and that she would consider my request for dinner.

If I am being completely honest, I almost broke down at lunch out of frustration. But I knew I was being taught a lesson and I wanted to obey. I both wanted to be beaten for my thoughts and forced to eat more rice and beans but also wanted to be cuddled and held and reminded that I am her good boy.

I let her know all of these thoughts and how I felt like I should be in chains and on my knees in her presence at that very moment. I felt conflicted and broken, so I asked if I may please have all of her thoughts, even the contrasting ones.

She told me a beating to help ground me in the reality that I am an owned boy and cuddles after to remind me I am a good boy that pleases his owner and also deserved soft things sounded right.

She told me that my push/pull feelings with meal control was actually very understandable when trying to embrace a new protocol. There is often a mental and physical component of a body wanting to stay in its typical habits so changes in meal activities or physical exertion take a lot of time to build. If she was planning a more long-term re-sculpting of my relationship to her control of my food, I would be having completely unseasoned rice and beans tonight as a reminder for my brain that this control was my new normal.

But she said she did not want me to be completely discombobulated before traveling for Christmas tomorrow, so she was taking my request for comfort food into consideration.

I thanked her for giving me her thoughts and let her know I love her so much. I also thanked her for keeping me in my proper headspace. Knowing she understood where I was coming from was a relief, but it was also nice to hear her complete thoughts. If she wanted me to have completely unseasoned rice and beans tonight, then I would and I would be content with her decision.

I informed my owner of my inner argument with myself earlier when seeing the peanuts before lunch and my desire to have them, but knowing I was not allowed, so I left them.

She seemed surprised by the intensity of my reaction to the peanuts when I said, “My brain went, ‘Take them! Not rice and beans.’” And that thought was immediately followed with the thought of, “But they are not part of my allowed lunch.”

My Domme seemed to enjoy learning how my brain was reacting to her training. She also let me know if the peanuts were still available, I may have some.

Lunch was almost over, so I probably wouldn’t have the time to eat them anyway. She asked if I could snack at my desk and I said I could, but that my coworkers would want to know why I was turning down other Christmas treats.

She reassured me by saying, “Sweetness, if there are things you would like you may simply request permission. My answer won’t always be yes, but I thought you knew that I wanted to hear what you needed and what you want.”

I then asked for permission to take the nuts for later and confessed my meals had slipped me into a deeper headspace that I expected. I had forgotten I could ask for what I wanted. I also was very grateful for her permission to have the nuts.

She is amazing with taking care of me and asked if there was anything I needed from her, regarding my deeper headspace. I let her know hearing her voice in the form of a voicemail may be helpful.

I then picked up the peanuts and headed back to work. I was extremely happy and smiling from ear to ear, just having the peanuts in my possession. I honestly could have cried at the thought of eating something salty. It completely turned around my day and I was smiling like I was in my Domme’s physical presence again or had just received my dream job.

As I turned the corner on the way back to my desk, I was stunned to hear Christmas music. Where on earth could that noise be coming from!? One of the people in my office is a self-proclaimed Grinch who despises Christmas music and is obsessed with loudly listening to “true crime” podcasts all day, every day. I was sure this sound wasn’t coming from my office.

Much to my surprise, it was actually the self-proclaimed Grinch that asked if we could listen to Christmas music. Apparently, the Grinch’s heart grew three sizes on December 22, not Christmas. I was noticeably joyful, and I think my coworkers thought it was because of Christmas music, when in reality it was because I had salted peanuts to snack on.

I looked at the bag and noticed they were actually honey roasted peanuts, and I texted my Domme to make sure I still had permission to have them. She said I did and that she had noticed the label in the picture I sent her of them before picking them up.

I snacked on the honey roasted peanuts most of the afternoon, only taking two at a time and sometimes sucking on them to get all of the salt off and to get flavor into my mouth. I truly savored them and was thankful for the gift of these peanuts.

On my final break of the workday, I listened to my Domme’s voicemail. In it, she said it was interesting to her how my body and mind was reacting to her training and temporary protocol. If we were in the same city, she said she would have me kneel at her feet after I got off work and would run her fingers through my hair. She would explain that I wasn’t allowed to have B Dubs wings tonight, I would have more rice and beans. Even though she knows it is hard on my body, that it was just as much the kind of training and need for stamina that she has seen me push through before, like during a beating. She said she would gently touch me and let me feel her presence and catch my breath while resting against her legs. She would remind me that even when my submission is hard, especially when it is hard to stay the course and stay obedient, that she is grateful for the gift of my submission and that she was taking ownership of not only my body and my tastebuds but also my thoughts and that she is transforming all of them. She would remind me of how good I am being and even though our minds have tricky relationships, that I did exactly what she desired today, and I ate my lunch and she was so proud of me. At the end she called me her sweet boy.

This voicemail got me a little emotional and I was very thankful to be hers. I wanted nothing more than to be kneeling at her feet and being touched and reminded of my place as she explained in the voicemail. Just the thought of her touch against my hair makes me swoon and extremely grateful she finds me worthy of her ownership each day.

I texted her right after to thank her for the wonderful voicemail and to thank her for owning me and loving me. I love how she is fair and firm in her ownership of me and how I ache to surrender more and more power each day, even when it is hard. I thanked her for loving me enough to explore this dynamic with her and thanked her for the nuts. I also thanked her for sharing our dynamic with others because I enjoy serving her and showing others how good it feels to surrender to my amazing Queen.

Around 3:30 p.m., she asked when I got off work for the day and I told her. She said unfortunately she wasn’t asking to surprise me by picking me up and taking me captive. (I desperately wish she was asking for those reasons. *swoons*)

She messaged me shortly before my workday ended to tell me it was time for her owned boy to order dinner online, meaning she was permitting me to have Buffalo Wild Wings.

I texted to make sure it was okay I did the BOGO deal on 10 wings (so I would end up with 20 total). She said that was okay and then I asked which flavor of wings she would prefer me to have. I would prefer mild sauce on one of them, but I would like her to pick at least one sauce.

She wanted me to get my favorites and said to order what I wanted, but that she would be happy to pick one if I really wanted her to. I responded by saying, “Please do, Ma’am.”

My Domme said the orange sauce sounded tasty but if that seemed off-putting to get lemon pepper.

I had to ask what orange sauce was because I didn’t know it was an option. Did that mean it would taste like oranges?

She responded, letting me know it was like an orange chicken sauce that was new, according to their website.

I had just had orange chicken on Sunday, so I went with the lemon pepper flavor she picked. I asked if she wanted me to get the dry seasoning or wet sauce. She said she prefers the seasoning, but she wants this to be something I actually enjoy eating, so to pick what I wanted.

I ended up doing the lemon pepper dry seasoning and mild wet sauce for the wings. I was so happy. I had no idea food had this kind of effect on me. My stomach growled almost the whole way home just from the smells of the food alone.

After picking up the food and arriving home, I called my Domme to say thank you for her control and for considering my request for dinner. I also wanted to know how I should eat my dinner. She told me I was allowed to be on furniture for dinner and to use utensils if I so desired. She also wanted to know if I had any other requests, and I asked if I may have soda. She said I could and to have either Wild Cherry Pepsi or a Coke with dinner.

The wings were a little cold by the time I got home (it was about a half an hour), but I was so hungry. The first bite of the wings tasted heavenly. I chose to take a bite of the lemon pepper wing first because I was curious and because I knew it was my Domme’s preferred sauce.

It actually tasted amazing and I think it will be one of my permanent wing flavors going forward. I may have to go out there and purchase the seasoning someday to increase the number of seasonings I have to choose from in my cabinets.

I was surprised how quickly the wings went down. I took my time and watched one of my favorite sitcoms while eating. I was surprised that I actually teared up during dinner both from the flavor and due to an emotional part of an episode where a dad was telling his daughter it was okay to give up on her dreams and it would be okay. It would be okay to give up on her dreams, but just to know how good it will feel to eventually get that “YES” someday if she stuck with it and continued pursuing her dreams even after receiving several rejections. It felt particularly impactful because of this year and losing what was basically a foot-in-the-door position with one of my dream companies earlier this year.

The wings were amazing, and I made sure to thank my Domme a few times for them. I was surprised I ended up eating all 20 wings, which I don’t think I have ever accomplished before.

After dinner, I started doing chores – sweeping the kitchen, doing dishes, finishing my laundry, packing for Christmas, making sure all gifts are where I can see them to take home tomorrow (and not forget, hopefully!). I am now finishing this post while waiting for the last few loads of laundry to get done before packing my bag.

I am extremely grateful that my Domme takes such good care of her property. I would have been content either way with her selection of my dinner tonight, but I am very thankful she allowed me to have wings. She keeps asking what I want for Christmas, but here is the truth. She has given me one of the greatest gifts of all, her ownership, care and friendship. Just the gift of being her submissive and the additional present of wings tonight was enough for me. I am happy, content and overjoyed being her owned boy. How did I ever get so lucky?

Thank you, your Majesty, for owning me, caring for me, training me, and breaking me. I love my role in your life and the dynamic we are building together. It is fun to know that my last four meals before dinner tonight were exactly what you chose for me – rice and beans. Rice and beans have actually been my meal for six out of the last nine meals (eight meals if you don’t count tonight). Thank you for teaching me these lessons and showing me how it feels to be molded into what you desire. I adore you so much and am very eager to be in your presence each and every day. Merry Christmas, my Queen.

[lazarettta]

Misthios VII

Pairing (Mother Miranda x Spartan!Reader)

Rating (M)

Word Count (4.6k)

Warning (probably language right now)

You and Miranda are finally moving on to having that long chat that's separated you both for centuries.

The Queen's eyes fluttered open, finally waking with the morning rays of the sun peaking over the mountain. Her balcony doors were wide open to let the cool night breeze into her personal chambers while the two fireplaces burned well into the night. It was a combination of warm and cool that her majesty enjoyed greatly as it helped her with sleep.

Of course, sharing her bed with you also aided with her troubles with sleep for the past few months since your arrival to the region. Wonderful in all the ways she could never have imagined; a warrior and a lover, the two things that made her life easier—and the lives of her enemies that much worse.

It had been well past dinner time when you returned to the castle along with the squadron of soldiers you'd gone with including a Captain of the military who was leading the raid. Part of your armor had been slashed and torn, stained with blood and whatever else you encountered outside of the castle walls.

But when Miranda stood in the doorway of her private bath watching as you stripped of your amour—she witnessed no open wounds for her to tend to or fret over, but blood stained your skin anyway. Even though she knew that she should have the moment she noticed: Miranda never questioned why you'd always have a new scar every other day or why your shirts had the evidence of a stab wound taking place right above your hip, including a blood stain, but all you could do was smile when asked about it.

“ Is everything alright, your majesty?”

Miranda blinked, her mind coming back to reality now finding herself sitting up in her bed currently being blinded by the morning sun. The Queen sighed heavily, looking down at your sleeping form—as always you were on your back with one arm tucked beneath one of the pillows behind your head and the other was being used as Miranda's pillow for most of the night. As always.

Like herself, you were bare as the day you were born...your entire torso shamelessly revealed for her roaming insatiable eyes...and she smirked when a particularly cool breeze swept through the room. She watched the goosebumps rise under your exposed skin, including your nipples making Miranda hum softly.

“ Y-your majesty?”

Miranda, suddenly remembering just what, or rather who, had bothered her before and looked towards the girl, pleased when she saw that her eyes were on the floor.

“ Everything is more than alright, girl, however you may leave... I'll be out shortly.”

A hand curling around her waist brought Miranda's gaze from the closing double doors where the meek girl disappeared through and back to you. Your eyes were still closed but you were starting to wake up, stretching like a feline and again Miranda's eyes were drawn to your chest.

“ Carved by the Gods,” she mumbled, the tips of her nails tracing your firm abdomen with no particular pattern, simply enjoying the light marks she was leaving behind around your belly button, knowing how much you enjoyed when she did that as well.

You saw the thoughtful look on Miranda's face when you opened your eyes but you couldn't stop the giant yawn from escaping, “Morning,”

Miranda smiled down at you, enjoying the way the sun made your skin glow but you weren't fooled by that smile—you were used to Miranda's smiles and this was one of her worries. The sort of smile where she wanted to reassure you while scolding you at the same time. You pulled away slightly, and sat up a bit so you could give her your full attention. When the monarch remained silent, simply staring at you, all you could do was raise an eyebrow...waiting.

Miranda scoffed at the action, shaking her head, “It's ironic isn't it, how we the others tales...but we do not truly know each other, do we?”

You shrugged, smirking at her—refusing to hint at the nerves beginning to crawl up your spine, “Pretty sure we know each other inside and out, your highness.”

Miranda gave you a look, clearly unimpressed, “Yes, beneath that charm and nonchalance...is something quite fascinating, isn't there? And...it seems that your truth only comes to light during battle.”

“ Pardon?” you sat up a little more now, eyebrows furrowed—unsure where Miranda was going with this but you no doubt that it probably wasn't going to be good for you. Especially since you're naked and vulnerable but not defenseless.

“ Captain Ake came to me last night after I left you to your bath, he seemed quite concerned with something...and quite frankly, I'm curious myself.” Miranda's hand had stopped tracing patterns on your stomach, but her hand still lingered...and the moment her index finger traced over the raised skin right next to your belly button, the brand new one, you knew you fucked up.

“ About what?” You mumbled not daring to look down at her hand, and her eyes burned into yours—playing dumb would only get you so far—probably the dungeons if you were lucky. You knew exactly what Ake was concerned with though you weren't sure if he actually saw you take a sword through your gut as it was so dark and everything happened within a blink or two.

“ What I am going to say next may sound crazy, however, Captain Ake is one of my most loyal subject in this castle, and quite sane...he claims to have witnessed you being impaled,” Miranda exhaled slowly, “By the enemy...and somehow managed to walk away from it, unharmed. Would you mind telling me what happened, my dear?”

You stared at her for a second, “And...you believed him? Could I have really been stabbed by a sword and do what I did last night? Do you know how insane you sound?”

“ Watch your tongue! You're still addressing your Queen, warrior.”

“ I'm sorry, but you seriously don't believe that shit do you?”

“ I've been noticing a few things myself, (Y/n)...and I would really like some answers myself.”

“ Right. I'll take that as my signal to leave, your majesty. Thanks for letting me sleep here last night.”

Miranda's eyes narrowed slightly, reaching out to grab your wrist to prevent you from running from her, “(Y/n), do not run from me...I'm only trying to understand! You can trust me, this I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you.”

You wanted to believe her, but you had to learn the hard way that trust was nothing but a word—a word that can be broken over and over. You were too stupid to learn in the past but you weren't about to do the same thing now. Pushing the covers aside you threw some mundane excuse over your shoulder but before you could actually get to the edge of the bed, you were pulled back and pushed back into your previous position. It didn't actually hurt but it wasn't gentle either but you were pretty sure that it was Miranda that moved you, but you hadn't actually felt or seen her move a muscle.

“ W...how? Miranda?!”

Miranda smiled shyly at your bewildered expression—a very rare expression from the Queen but like yourself, she was feeling quite vulnerable, “You're not alone, (Y/n)...and neither am I.”

“ Neither....are you?” Miranda chuckled at your expression and your inability to put two and two together. When you tried to sit back up, Miranda's shy smile morphed into something more amused and predatory because you realized that you couldn't move—and Miranda still hadn't moved an inch.

“ Ah, now do I have your full attention?”

The closer you got to Miranda's home the more treacherous the path became and you'd lost sight of the woman flying low above the trees ten minutes ago—or what you thought to be ten minutes, you weren't sure. Your eyes were glued to the ground, keeping a firm but relaxed grip on the reign of your stallion, Bruce, whispering gently to him. Alcina called him a gentle giant and she wasn't exaggerating. The path was narrow and very unkempt but you wouldn't expect Miranda to make things easy, especially access to her private home.

There was a point that you weren't even sure you and Bruce were actually going to make it across but there was no way you could've turned the massive horse around either, forward was the only way and you weren't ashamed to admit that your heart was pounding hard enough to crack bones. The moment you cleared the trees, Miranda's home finally came into view—and you were not disappointed. It was a simple two story cabin practically etched into the mountain and you wanted to know how the hell she managed to get this place on the sliver of rock.

You'd brought Bruce to a stop just as Miranda appeared and landed gracefully on her porch even with her heels on (you caught a glimpse of them earlier when she started flying). From her porch alone, Miranda had a perfect view of everything . The village, the manor sitting on the waterfall, the factory and of course the castle. There was a light blanket of fog obscuring most of the view, but it was still breathtaking all the same.

You dismounted Bruce easily, gently guiding him to the post next to Miranda's porch. You fed him a few sugar cubes, gingerly untangling part of his dark mane and pulling free a few twigs and leaves.

“Further up the path I have there's a stable for him, we can take him later.”

You turned to look at Miranda, finding her standing in the door looking at you, her expression unreadable and you were too tired to try and decipher it. You double checked the post before steeling your nerves and joining her on her porch, it was roomier than it actually looked and you spotted a hammock on the other corner—not the usual netted sort, it looked like a quilt and quite comfortable too.

You followed Miranda inside, shutting out the cold—the interior of Miranda's home had you stock still at the front door with your hand still on the door knob. The space was open, having the living room and the eating area open with no barrier, and you could easily see the kitchen from where you stood. It was...cozy and warm.

“Surprised?” Miranda's voice brought your eyes to where she was, now half way up the stairs behind the kitchen wall, she wore a soft smile, the front of her robes already opened (you didn't even realize the fucking thing even had a zipper), revealing the slacks and blouse she wore underneath, “Did you expect me to live in a cave?”

“I expected you to at least have a TV.”

Miranda smirked but it didn't reach her eyes, “Are you going to stand there bitching about the lack of media corruption or do you want that shower?”

Your hand finally relaxed off of the door knob, the light throbbing resulting in just how hard you were holding the poor thing. You kicked off your boots at the door—they were covered in mud, snow and probably horse shit at some point, they were filthy. And the last thing you wanted to do was dirty up Miranda's wood floors.

She waited until you were on the stairs to continue up herself while slipping her robe from her shoulders and casually throwing it over her arm as if it were just a towel. “There are only three rooms on this floor. My own, the guest room and the bathroom.”

You raised an eyebrow, “One bathroom?”

“I don't exactly keep guests, dear.”

“So then why the extra bedroom?” you were being a shit, you knew it, but you couldn't help it—Miranda made it easy for you to tease her sometimes (all the time). You wanted to be more bothered over how easy it was for you to fall back into old habits with this woman.

“The longer you stand there being an idiot, the colder your water gets.”

You raised your hands slightly, moving past her towards the door she pointed to, flipping on the light—it was roomier than you expected it to be, dark and a bit modern but Miranda somehow still managed to keep it grand and medieval. The floor was made of stone, there was a grand shower with a curved glass door and next to it was a bear claw of a tub, melded into the floor like it was a hot spring. Across the floor was a single sink and a mirror, and next to it a door where you assumed you'd find the towels and toiletries. Just past the tub, was the toilet though there was a half wall there to offer some privacy and you spotted your backpack sitting on top of it neatly and that finally gave you pause.

“Figured you didn't want to walk around naked or wearing any of my clothes.”

You hadn't even noticed that you had actually walked into the bathroom, admiring it's simple yet beautiful décor or that Miranda followed you in until the shower sprung to life next to you.

She smiled at you apologetically, not having meant to startle you—but seeing you so easily bothered helped put her at ease. Miranda was good at hiding it, but she was quite nervous. Having you so near and so far from her at the same time in the comfort of her own home, her sanctuary—none of the other Lord's knew where she lived, they probably thought she lived in a cave or a nest or something. You were Miranda's first house guest since she arrived in this village.

She closed the shower door, watching you open your backpack—checking through it, and she couldn't stop the small smile from forming after you smirked, realizing that you were still without your weapons. But you didn't make a comment on it, instead beginning to pull out the things that you needed—until you realized that she was still in the room as well.

You raised an eyebrow at Miranda, and her smile only grew but the blonde simply shrugged her wings and tucked her wings tighter to her back as she exited the room, “I'll be downstairs when you're finished...”

“Miranda—”

She paused and you froze, fuck, why did you do that? You hadn't meant to call out to her, but your mouth was faster than your brain sometimes and now she was looking at you expectantly and all you could do was stare at her like a jackass. There was so much, too much, that you wanted to say but where could you even start? Why were you getting this courage in the fucking bathroom of all places?

“Downstairs.” She reminded you gently when the silence stretched too long—you had panicked and she saw that, and instead of jumping on you like the predator you knew that she was fully capable of being—she left you alone to your thoughts and the hot water steaming the room, calling your name. It was a welcome distraction even if it wouldn't be a forever one.

“Being immortal really is overrated.”

Miranda didn't go downstairs immediately, instead making a beeline for her bedroom and closed the door behind her but left it ajar enough for her to still hear you in the bathroom. Miranda carefully hung up her 'Mother Miranda' robe and began stripping out of the clothes she's been wearing for the past two days along with her rings; finally taking off the crown of Mother and just becoming Miranda with every stitch of clothing she removed from her flawless skin.

Standing naked in front of her full-length mirror, Miranda whispered a delicate but very familiar spell she's known since she was a small child and she winced quietly as her wings folded back into her body for the next six or seven hours. The spell wasn't forever but Miranda often used it when she was home to avoid breaking her things as she often did if she let her wings remain as they were, they often got restless if she stayed home and still too long so she just opted for putting them away to save herself the trouble. And money.

When the last two smaller ones on her lower back finally retreated into her skin, Miranda rolled her shoulders to pop out the kinks. She got dressed in a pair of washed out pants and a v-neck shirt, and at the last minute Miranda threw on her dark wool cardigan before heading back downstairs but not before pausing outside of the bathroom door. She heard you humming over the shower and though she didn't recognize the song, it still made her smile.

Suddenly feeling like a creeper, Miranda moved away from the door and went downstairs to start on the coffee she was craving earlier. She got her fireplace going but that all took less than ten minutes and now she found herself back in her kitchen, pulling ingredients from her refrigerator to give her something to do besides fret.

“ You shouldn't be so comfortable with your champion, in public.” Fritjof complained for the thousandth time in her ear—he was one of her primary advisors, having been employed by her late husband, the former King. He was always a bit of an annoyance, but he often proved himself useful and unwittingly saved his own life time to time from Miranda's ire.

“ I was only congratulating her on another victorious raid on a neighboring kingdom that thought it wise to steal from us, or have you forgotten that little fact, Fritjof?”

He frowned, not liking her tone but he quickly corrected his features knowing that they were still in the halls on their way to the Queen's study, but there were still eyes on them, “I...yes, but it sends the wrong message when you send a blood wolf to handle this kingdoms affairs instead of your loyal officers! You make us all look weak!”

Miranda stopped walking, and whirled around on Fritjof, her coat wrapping around her leather clad legs as she did so, and the frail man jumped back a step, knowing that he overstepped a line severely, “A-apologies—”

“ You will apologize with your tongue!” Miranda hissed, “Though I'm sure (Y/n) would rather have your head for all the times you've questioned her loyalty to this kingdom! We're coming up on eight years, Fritjof, and (Y/n) has helped this kingdom prosper more than you ever could've in your twenty years with my late husband.” Miranda sneered dangerously, edging closer to him and the terrified man could only back up into the table, knocking over a vase but Miranda paid it no mind, “One more word about this and I will have you removed. Permanently.”

Fritjof swallowed harshly, beads of sweat forming at his hairline and rolling down his face, and Miranda's sneer deepened in disgust, “Please, your highness, I'm only looking out for the future of the kingdom! It—it needs an heir and a King! The other kingdoms will never recognize your power without either—” his words were cut off when Miranda struck him down, a single line of blood staining a portrait on the wall behind him. Miranda struck faster than he could react and Fritjof cried out in pain, alerting the guards who came running but stopped when they saw their Sovereign standing over the slimy advisor holding part of his face, blood starting to seep through his fingers.

“ For every brilliant woman, there's always a stupid man thing to be found.” Miranda stepped over his pathetic body and continued on her way, rolling her shoulders back when her back began to twinge in response to her high and irritated emotions, and she needed release. “Get him out of my sight and find my champion; send her to me when you do.”

“ Yes, my Queen.” They both replied, one of them roughly hauling Fritjof to his feet and pushing him forward, but not before the man could cast one last glance at Miranda's retreating back until he was shoved forward. “Move!”

The cabin was filled with the aroma of sweet bread and coffee and your stomach was growling something vicious halfway down the stairs after you put your back in the guest room. Miranda had her back to you and you took the moment to stop at the bottom of the stairs to just observe her. The very first thing you noticed was that her wings were gone and she was more relaxed—it probably had a lot to do with her being in her own home, and it was starting to make more sense why she wanted to be in the comfort of her own home for this conversation. Though her argument for privacy was valid as well.

Your eyes flickered around the open space, spotting something tucked in the corner of the living room and scoffed without meaning to and alerting Miranda of your presence, if she wasn't already. She turned from her task of fixing you both something to eat to watch you walk across the room to where the object of your interest lay with a carefully crafted expression.

“Didn't take you for owning a rifle.”

“It's ten years old, I believe.” Miranda hummed quietly, dusting off her hands before taking down a couple of plates from the cabinet above the stove. You looked at her when she didn't elaborate, really curious now.

“It's in pretty good condition, really beautiful...where did you get it?” you checked the clip and saw that there were exactly ten rounds in there. When Miranda didn't answer you immediately, you found her watching you.

“It's not mine.” Miranda set the plates at the small eating table that could easily seat two other people, “I took it from a witch hunter as he was so kind to come all this way to visit. He tried to kill me in my sleep like a coward. He intrudes upon my home and couldn't be bothered to give me an honorable death. The audacity of men certainly hasn't changed over the years.”

Her tone was not lost on you and you knew that the witch hunter was long dead. You traced the steel design grip, impressed at the detail—and distracted.

“Oh, so now you hate men?” Ah... and once again your mouth was faster than your brain could process, and just like that her eyes were on your back—you felt it.

“I've always hated men, (Y/n). I...” she sighed harshly, her eyes turning into a glare, “Stop doing that, you don't have the entire story so if you're done being an ass and running from this conversation—I would really like to clear the air between us so we can move on from this.”

“You mean your truth that you want me to hear so badly?” You chuckled though it lacked any amusement. You set the rifle down, finally giving her your full attention then sighed heavily—a sudden exhaustion falling over you, “Would it really matter at this point, Miranda? It happened centuries ago...we both moved on, why do you want to drudge this back up?”

“Why don't you?” Miranda moved around the table, the coffee and snack forgotten in the moment, but she didn't try to approach you, “I'm not the only one who was in the wrong, (Y/n).”

“Do you think I cared about your status when I found out the woman I loved married a man behind my back and didn't even fucking tell me! I had to find out in the middle of that stupid ball you wanted to throw so bad after we invaded those rebellion villages. I gave you everything and you betrayed me . I crossed lines for you, Miranda. I thought that would warrant enough decency to be honest with me. I-”

You stopped, your face was hot and you exhaled heavily—doing your best not to sniffle, you hated that you were the type to fucking cry when your emotions bubbled to the surface too fast. Especially when the topic is something you've buried long deep in the dark corners of your mind with no hope for daylight again. You just never thought you'd bump into your past like this. And it's been years since you've had to deal with anything on a personal level after your last child passed away fifty years ago at the tender age of eighty-six.

Miranda saw the emotions playing across your face with a frown but otherwise her own emotions were carefully hidden, she was always better at that than you were, and inched closer, “(Y/n)...”

“We've both obviously lived with this hurt and came out fine,” you cut her off, not looking at her but instead at your bare toes with your hands back in your pockets, “What's closure gonna do besides bring up old hurt?”

“No, that's not it at all, I just...” Miranda coughed lightly and cleared her throat,—your question was valid as she's asked herself this many times before, asking herself why she didn't just let you go in the forest—she could've let you go and saved you both from this reopened wound. But she didn't because she couldn't and Miranda wouldn't apologize for it. Because she's always been a selfish woman, and one of her most selfish needs—even when she first laid eyes on you—she knew that you were hers. That never changed, time could never take that away from her.

“This life is long and lonely, (Y/n)...and I've made many mistakes, most I will never have a chance to atone for...and when I saw you,” Miranda looked into your eyes and bit her bottom lip, you weren't even looking at her anymore, “I've lost so much in this life, and I refused to lose you a second time. The first time I was...I was corrupted with greed and power, but I was stupid and it cost me everything too, (Y/n).”

You looked up, surprised by her words, “He took your kingdom from you, didn't he?”

“ You!” Miranda moved closer, though you hardly noticed because you were focused on her eyes that were duller than they were down in the village but just as clear, bright and brimming with tears, “He took you from me. He took us away from each other, (Y/n). I'm not innocent in it either, I...I could've done something about it, but I didn't and it was the biggest mistake I could've made in my entire existence. And I think about it more than I care to admit, I think about you...wondering what sort of life we could've shared together had I made better choices. I'm...I'm sorry, (Y/n).”

Miranda was close enough to touch you now, and this time she didn't hesitate nor did you pull away when both of her hands cupped your cheeks, making you shiver. “Miranda...”

Miranda's hands tightened on your face, obviously thinking you were about to argue again but you were tired of arguing with her, over this...before she could speak, you took Miranda by surprise and pulled her into a tight embrace, both of your arms around her waist and you caught her when her entire body sagged in your arms. You had no idea what was going to happen after this, but that little piece of you that longed for the closure you never got...began to grow.

“I'll stay.”

[shadowfae]

hiii! so a friend directed me here and i was wondering if u cld share abt how you found out you were godkin? only if youre comfy! because ive kinda had like. how do i word this. Vibes or Feels that kinda direct me towards the whole i might be a god of sorts kinda thing ? if you have resources and dont mind helping,, please direct me to them :D ~ @missing-crown

I want to start this essay off by saying flat out: wars have been fought, genocides have been committed, and empires have risen and fallen trying to answer the simple questions of “What is deification, and how do we incarnate and control it?”.

If you do not think you’re up the challenge of answering that question for yourself, even with years of study and slow training to take up the mantle of literally being the most powerful form of the Chosen One trope, then you’re probably in the wrong place. I say this as someone who is deific down to the blood and bone, as someone who has looked for other gods, and largely found very little in the way of anyone who understands anything like my experience. In this way, I am utterly alone, and I detest it, but if me penning these words gives someone else the gospel they need to explain themselves in a way I recognize as kin and kind, then I will do it.

But before I truly get into it, I will very nicely ask you to swing down to your local bookstore or library, pick up a copy of Seanan McGuire’s Middlegame, and take a walk down the improbable road with Roger and Dodger. The differences between you and I and the twins of the Doctrine of Ethos are simple and threefold: we cannot manifest, we are forbidden to use our powers the way they can use theirs, and there are (hopefully) no secret alchemist cults trying to murder us when we don’t play nice with their fucked-up science experiment.

Roger and Dodger are gods, true gods, gods I recognize in myself and in the godkin I have met who have spoken about themselves enough for me to understand that we are indeed talking about the same thing. Disappontingly, I see minor spirits far too often misunderstanding the nature of deification, or at least, understanding a version of it which is fundamentally antithetical to my experience. They may be deific; but either they suck at illustrating their point, or I am something far beyond deific, and I am again alone.

With that introduction, I need to talk about three things in order to answer your question. Two methods of deification and three definitions of ‘god’ in a hierarchy that only exists because humanity has not yet perfected their understanding of what is fundamentally and always beyond them. Two kinds of gods, honest gods, that split the difference between deific, divine, and legendary. Once you understand that, I can talk about godkin, and what it’s like to be me, and maybe by the end of it you will either recognize yourself in this, or run away screaming as most mortals will do.

The first method of deification is what I will call the incarnate gods- Roger and Dodger are good examples, so are most Legendary Pokémon, and Kaname Madoka from PMMM. They are laws of nature, concepts of creation, and calculations of cosmic proportions that also occasionally exist as people when they design to do so. They are not meant to be people, they are bad at it, I do not recommend being mortal and fucking around with them. You will simply die. I would not fuck with them outside of my own world that I created, where I get to be a form of incarnate god. You cannot overpower them: they ARE the rule, and they will change it if they need to. You can’t ruleslawyer gravity like a 2007 troll physics comic. An incarnate god of gravity will simply turn reality on its head and cause you to implode. If you are this type of god, I cannot help you. My understanding of them comes from being an Absol, and little more.

The second type are gods of domain and prowess: Zamorak (from RuneScape), Akemi Homura in both her awakened Witch and Devil forms (from PMMM), and yours truly. Quite a few of us, although not all of us, were originally mortal. Mortals amped up on so much power we are no longer bound by mortal laws. There is a difference between deification and simply stopping your clock to gain immortality. Mortal magic and deific magic are fundamentally different. Down to, I would argue, the atomic structure. Deific magic is pure in a way mortal magic could never be. To give a mortal more than a drop of deific magic heavily diffused in something safer and more understandable would be to quite literally burn them to ashes. Or rend them into a different, unspeakable form. Or turn them into living topiary. We are nothing if not unpredictable.

It’s the difference between a handful of dirt and pure neutron soup. Usually, in order to become a god like this, it requires the intervention of an incarnate god in some form. In Zamorak’s case, it was several Elder Artifacts and falling almost facefirst into halfway incarnating himself into the law of entropy. In Homura’s (at least in canon PMMM), she fucked with the laws of consequence and time to the point where she became the only expert they had on either of those and both laws decided to simply incarnate into her, and then she used that to cause problems. For me, it was having my entire magical and physical structure reorganized and rebuilt by an incarnate god of malevolent energy, and then I used what was a watered-down copy of the Devil of Devils’ glory to weave my own world into being where I was more or less the absolute arbiter of the laws of reality.

In PMMM Rebellion, when Homura fights Kyubey in that pretty lace dress of hers, that is approximately the magical prowess an awakened god of our capability will show casually. She has complete control over her domain (her labyrinth) and the reality of it, it takes no more than a glance or a thought to almost entirely reshuffle it. Her minions, who are little more than vaguely autonomous thoughts given some power of their own, may break that reality in whatever means necessary so long as it is to fulfill Homura’s current motives. Her domain falls apart when she does, and she is not separate from it; it is a consequence of her existence. Asking what came first, the god or their domain, is a simple chicken and egg question. It’s usually the domain, in our case; in the case of incarnate gods it’s a philosophical shrug and a nice headache.

You’ll notice I said awakened: that is because Zamorak is a great example of a god who isn’t entirely awakened. In canon, that is - the one I work with is awakened enough to fuck with his domain, which is what makes him quite useful to work with, although I do wonder what he’s getting out of me if not magical theory and utter adoration. Zamorak in canon is a god who ascribes himself to the philosophy of chaos and personal strife, completely unaware that he is incarnate enough not to change the law of entropy but to suggest things to it. He’s a god of chance masquerading as a god of personal improvement, and once he figures that out (and passes that knowledge onto Armadyl, who is his true light counterpart), he’s going to change the very way magic works. Guthix did everything in his power to try and become incarnate. He failed. Zamorak did it entirely inadvertently, and that’s the trick: the nature of deification is to follow the domain and influence it to your will. When laws of existence become people, they will do as people will, and people typically have ambition. Gods who are also people got that way for a reason. They always have a motive for doing so. It’s never accidental.

So, with a slightly more informed understanding of deification, or at least the versions of it that I understand, I can talk to you about me. What it’s like in the here and now, and how I knew. It took me years to get to this point, and I’ve much the way to go. I know more than I did when I was questioning; deeply more so. I don’t expect anyone questioning to be as sure as I am, and in ten years I will be far more sure of entirely different things, and if I’m lucky, this as well. But, let us begin again.

To be deific is to wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a black hole. You are vast, and you are dense, and the moment someone touches the skin of your sternum they will be sucked in like a movie's portrayal of quicksand. To be so vast on the inside, surrounded by empty air and gentle white noise like the faint pull of gravity that does not touch you. To feel so powerful as to be untethered wholly from the world, aware that you will blink and be floating alone in a space that you cannot touch and so too cannot touch you. You blink, and it is gone, and you are again in a normal body as a normal person, and you roll over and go back to sleep.

To be deific is to watch the seasonal changes and feel flashes of worn leather rope between your hands and the maddened singsong of the Wild Hunt, chariot reins in your hands and baying hounds that feel like fingers, like wings, like extensions of yourself that can be shifted around with barely a thought. To feel halfway like a black hole walking down the street, halfway caved into yourself and barely contained, incapable of truly understanding how you can be so far apart from it all without anyone noticing that something is off.

To be deific is to be a fourteen-year-old girl in one moment, unable to understand what draws her so to the wilds if not the song of sympathy that she knows she can understand if she reaches a little farther, a little farther past the barrier that prevents any mortal, psychological mind from understanding the call. To play a pixelated game and have everything rush back. To relive millennia in a single sennight, to go from chipped to broken, utterly broken, as the power comes rushing back and the slow, dawning realization like the day that there is no controlling it. That there is no controlling you.

Millennia of sins come rushing back, and you're mortal again, and you know the only way to bring a god to their knees is to kill them. And if you were spared, if you were brought down without dying, then there was a reason. That someone must have thought you worthy of fixing it. That you should now spend the next several years coming to peace with being a Devil, the cruelest of the cruel, amending fences and repenting your sins.

To be deific is to realize, quite suddenly and without ever actually having the thought, that understanding things through a Christian lens is utterly bullshit and absolutely does not apply to you. Now, your duty is not to repent, or to fix, or to find any sort of salvation. You are the monster queen, the king of the damned, the Devil of a world you made with blood and tears and sweat and magic. To retake the crown, you have to accept yourself. Acceptance does not mean dwelling, or sorrow, or refusing to take the steps forward that will carry you to the crown and halo and horn of deification.

The powers feel less overwhelming as you grow into them. You don't forget the rage. You understand your close friend's words over and over, as the lesson teaches itself. How a Devil so much less powerful and yet so much older than you once looked you in the eye, drink in hand, and gently told you that a single mortal can bring down a Devil, if they try, and believe wholeheartedly in their quest. Do not disrespect mortality. It brings nothing but death.

You wonder briefly who brought you down. You decide, as the lessons prove themselves, that you don't actually care. You're the mortal now, and mortal legends die. Mortal legends change the song of sympathy and the rules of the deific. In order to return, you too must follow the only path a mortal can take to become deific.

To be godkin is to become deific with every step. It's not to seek the divine from outside of it. It's to become it again, and reclaim it; find what was inside all along and grow yourself around it, until it can no longer be pulled from you again without scattering your ashes and stardust among the cosmos, never to return.

To be godkin is to never forget the moments of pure rage that none but powerless fourteen-year-olds can manage. To be godkin is to be an adult with their memory pressed into your skin. To be godkin is for that rage to never truly leave you.

We stand up again and stare at the emotions that are awake when we are not. We wonder what it will take to manifest again, to only twitch a thought in any direction and reshape the reality around us. It is an extension of our being, and the less aware we are of it, the less effort it takes us to remake the world. It is the nature of deification, to change the laws of reality at our whim and will.

To be godkin is simply a matter of knowing that, and forever reaching to do that once more. If only to feel whole and vast, as we always have been.

[elliewritessometimes]

IT’S @mattieswheelers BIRTHDAY!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVELY WE LOVE YOU SO MUCH

beCAUSE of this, myself and @notsomightymightytiger decided to steal tea leaf’s time travelling mattie au and create a whole entire fic with their ideas and also a design that @ari-is-anxious did a while back!! hope you enjoy aaaaaaa <3333 aLSO stabbies try and spot as many starboard references as you can heheheh 

this can be read on ao3 here if you prefer the format :)

tw: swearing, murder (it’s minor and resolved tho jsgh), religion (nicco my love read with care), blood, i really hope i haven’t missed anything please do let me know if i missed anything

-

Mattie had always been able to time travel. For as long as she could remember, her walk-in wardrobe had been lined with silver metal and held no clothes at all. As a child, this made it all the more exciting, though as she grew older and actually started to want to own clothes, it became a little inconvenient. She supposed all great inventions came with some kind of sacrifice.

Her uncle had made the time machine as a gift when Mattie was born. Her parents, like any basic adults, assumed the wardrobe-sized box was simply a toy and had taken no interest in it. Mattie, from the age of about three when her curiosity had really set in, was the one who discovered that the machine was in fact a working portal and not just a children’s toy. Since then, she had been happily travelling time and space during the darkest hours of night.

(You may have entirely valid concerns about a three year old having full access to time travel - luckily, not just for Mattie’s safety but also that of the entire human race, her uncle had set what were effectively child locks on a lot of the controls. These were diminished the day that Mattie turned thirteen. Uncle Calvin had always been a little weird, but he certainly wasn’t heartless.)

-

Usually, Mattie’s time travel didn’t affect her life. Sure, it made for some pretty awkward conversations as Mattie spurted some knowledge which could never have been explained through a textbook, but those could often be blamed on watching too much Horrible Histories as a child (“Mattie, I swear to God, you’re so bageling British, and yet you’ve never been there, I don’t understand.” “Horrible Histories is a masterpiece! You’re just jealous that you’re too American to have seen it.” “Actual asshole of a child.” “Farrah-!”).

It was going well until Mattie’s freshman year at Giles Corey. And then three of her fellow highschoolers were murdered. And suddenly Mattie had a way to prevent that from happening.

In some stroke of luck, she passed out at the sleepover and didn’t find out about the murders until she was sitting in the back of a cop car, driving to her house to pick up her things. She remembered thinking how weird it was that she wasn’t being taken straight to the station, but brushed that away in favour of ‘going into her wardrobe to change out of her bloody clothes’.

The time machine was cold like it always was and that forced her out of her muddled state quickly enough. She thought back to the victims. Chess. Farrah. Clark. Snapping on her goggles, she pressed a button, whirled backwards through time and space, and appeared at the gate to Riley’s neighbour’s house.

She really wished that she had actually changed her outfit - the damp blood turned cold with the breeze and sent shivers up her spine. The smell perhaps or just her sudden appearance startled the neighbour’s dogs into a frenzy. A figure, Chess, unharmed and merely confused instead of terrified, stood up from Riley’s bench, calling into the darkness. Mattie’s breath caught in her throat. The second figure, knife glinting in the dim streetlight, slipped out of the back door. Their red hair shone in the reflection of the knife with a sick kind of beauty.

Mattie could have stopped them there, taken the knife from the assailant’s grasp, prevented the tragedy of the evening. But she didn’t. She just watched.

Three minutes later, after arriving back in her present time and pressing yet another button on the wall of her closet, she watched the same scene unfold in the bathroom with a much younger victim. Twenty minutes after that, the third attack. This one was different though, an accident.

Still a little desperate and overly conscious of the police officer standing guard outside of her bedroom, she reappeared in her wardrobe, putting on a jumper before turning back time a little further. She appeared in a gymnastics centre as a girl around Mattie’s age did wolf turns on a beam. A coach entered the scene from the sidelines as the girl stopped spinning, her distinctive plait falling still against her back. Something in Mattie ached at the sight of Chess so lively and innocent, willing to give up her life for her dream of succeeding in her sport. As the two wandered into a side room, picking up water with a smile, Mattie edged forwards, collecting soft gym mats as she went. Within minutes, the area surrounding the beam had been double layered with cushioning, and Mattie could only pray that her plan would work. She’d seen enough YouTube videos to know what happened next.

Chess emerged again with her coach, hopping back up onto the beam with practiced ease. Again, Mattie was forced to just watch as she went down into her wolf turn, then rose up, did a split leap across at least half of the beam, and jumped into a twist to land on the floor. It was a messy landing, the gymnast’s ankle caving in on itself, knee twisting unnaturally in the air, before coming down hard onto her side. But, unlike in the previous videos, there wasn’t a resounding crack, only a weak cry of pain as Chess stumbled back to her feet.

Mattie grinned despite herself as snippets of conversation drifted her way.

“-not broken, don’t worry-”

“The Olympics seem out of the picture…”

“Get her a drink to numb the pain! Yes, limeade’s perfect-!”

Mattie arrived in her room again with a whole plethora of new information just inserted into her mind like it had been there all along. There was no longer and never had been a police officer outside her door. Her shirt was clean, her head undamaged. Chess didn’t go to the Olympics, but still did gymnastics in her spare time as her knee made a full and quick recovery. Farrah wasn’t dropped. Riley, in some weird twist of fate, went to the same therapist as Mattie. Life was… good for the Giles Corey Tigers.

Across town, the sleepover was still going ahead as normal. From what weird memories she just gained, Mattie knew that the team was at a rocky patch, their personalities still clashing in any iteration of the evening. But, with some relief, she knew that it would never in this timeline be bad enough for murder to even be considered as an answer. Her phone buzzed. The lies came easily as she covered up her mysterious disappearance from the sleepover she should currently be at.

Reese (school): Where are you???

Mattieeeee: I went home :( not feeling good

Reese (school): :((( that sucks

Mattieeeee: Ikr. I think it was the ice cream.

Reese (school): I told the others

Reese (school): They all say get well soon apart from Kate and Cairo who actually agreed on something for once haha

Mattieeeee: What did they say skjghdjh

Reese (school): “Tolerate the lactose, Wheeler.”

-

In her short-but-actually-quite-long-given-all-the-time-travel life, Mattie had witnessed a number of key historic events (and had caused about 85% by some small accident, but that’s a story for another time). The one which ended up unveiling her secret to someone in her actual life occurred overnight one February. Or maybe July. Depends. Time is weird.

She stepped into a small room, luckily through the doorway and not awkwardly through the window, as done many times before. A man sat hunched over a desk by the window, dressed in brown and using a pen-but-not-really-a-pen to craft a page of writing. From Mattie’s extensive historical knowledge, it could have been anywhere from 1000 BC to the 16th century.

“Hello, excuse me,” she began, “But I’m a little lost.”

The man startled, his not-really-pen skidding across the page and leaving a trail of thick ink in its wake as he blinked at her in the doorway. “Who are you?” He seemed perplexed as to how a young girl was standing there, in the opening to his room, in clothing not of any time now or before.

Something that Mattie had realised after travelling not only to different times, but also to a vast number of different settings around the world, was that somehow, she was never stumped by a language barrier. Instead she was always able to fluently converse with those she met in what appeared to her as American English. It was really weird; she tried not to think about it too much or it made her head hurt. She’d also learnt that it was best not to explain her full situation to her companions, becoming accustomed to pulling the classic ‘I’m not here, you’re just dreaming’ excuse. So that was exactly the tactic she applied here. “A dream figure. You don’t need to be afraid.”

The man narrowed his eyes, glancing down at the paper and then back up to Mattie’s face. “That’s a good line.” He scribbled her words down onto a scrap piece of papyrus. “Maybe I can use that later.”

Mattie grinned, sensing her chance to fuck up history just a little bit. “What are you writing?”

“How the world came to be,” the man explained. “God.”

“Ah, of course. The Bible, huh?”

“Pardon?” The scribe locked eyes with Mattie for the first time, confusion etched clearly on his face. She shook her head in response, having learnt that it was hopeless trying to explain events of the future to people who could never even begin to imagine the future that she came from. Seemingly satisfied, the man continued. “As the vision you are, I wonder if you’ve been sent to answer my queries.”

“Of course. Go ahead.”

“I’m struggling for a name. Not for the book itself, but just for this chapter.”

Mattie smiled as wisely as she could. “What do you have so far?”

“‘Generational Crisis’. The chapter describes how our world came to be - the creation of natural elements, the first humans, the beginnings of emotion. ‘Generational’ as it shall be carried on for generations, and ‘crisis’ as it’s a huge event, a crisis for the higher powers.”

Mattie choked. Her mind imagined a world where the entry chapter to the Bible was named as so, and it was a world of chaos and highly differing language choices. “That is very wise, sir. I have one suggestion: how about shortening it? Make it snappier, more catchy. I’m thinking…” She paused, feigning deep thought, “‘Genesis.’”

The man gasped, scrawling her word down at the top of the papyrus. “Genius! Thank you, child. I should write your name in my finished book, to show my gratitude for your kindness.”

“Mattie, sir, Mattie Wheeler. It’s been lovely to meet you and see your studies.” Over the centuries, Mattie had learnt to leave those she met with some kind of reassurance as the humane aspect of her hobby. “Before I go, I may be a dream spirit, but I can assure you that the work you have done right now shall be greatly appreciated for thousands of years to come.”

“You really are a wonder, perhaps a child sent from the power above.”

Unthinking, she snorted, replying, “Oh, boy, you are not ready to hear about Jesus.”

“Jesus? You mean my sister’s husband? I do hear some curious rumours about the man…”

Mattie hid her laugh behind a hand. Of course, this was hundreds of years before Jesus Christ came to be thought of. “I know, right? Jesus? More like JeSUS.” The scribe didn’t reply, mind clearly tired of its confusion and instead turning back to something it knew well. He picked up his writing patterns again. Mattie turned away, back to the doorway. “I will leave you to your writing again. Sleep well.” Leaving a small vial of dissolved sleeping pills on the desk, she stepped out of the door.

-

The only class that Mattie knew she would see Eva in was Religion. They didn’t actually share the class, but Mattie’s Religion teacher was Eva’s form tutor and the older girl often used the classroom as a quieter study area for her free period. Not that Mattie would call a class of thirty sophomores particularly peaceful, but apparently she hadn’t heard the noise of the senior study area, you genuinely don’t understand, last week Jacob Thomas tried to make toast using the sun on a desk and then, bam, the entire of senior year are creating chants about sun bread, it was so weird, Mattie, I transferred to a school of crackheads.

After her travel to the 7th century AD, Mattie sparked a sudden interest in her Religion classes. Eva, being the older sister that she was, watched closely as the sophomore stayed behind after class to search the Bible for something in particular.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Nothing!” Mattie didn’t look up from fervently turning the pages.

“Well, that’s a fucking lie.” Eva perched on the side of a desk, sliding across to snatch the book out of the younger girl’s hands. “Why the hell are you looking at what is essentially the movie credits for the Bible???”

Eva watched as Mattie bit her lip, eyes darting around the empty classroom. She thought for a long moment, visibly debating points in her head, before leaning over the top of the book to run her finger down a list of names. About a third of the way down the page, she stopped. Eva’s eyes followed her finger as it drew a circle around a certain name. Matte Wheyler  

“See. I was looking for that.”

Eva didn’t say anything for a while. Mattie waited with baited breath as Eva’s brain tried to make sense of what they saw. “Mattie Wheeler, what the bagel.” It didn’t bother to even be a question.

“It’s a really long story.” Mattie slumped onto the desk as well. “Hey, did you know that ‘Genesis’ would have originally been called ‘Generational Crisis’ if it wasn’t for me?”

After a glance at both of their timetables, they decided that their next lessons (biology and latin respectively) were worth missing. Instead, they stayed seated on a desk in the Religion classroom, as Mattie explained in detail how her name came to be in the Bible. It was refreshing to finally spill her secret after fifteen years of complete silence, and Mattie wondered vaguely in the back of her mind if one day Eva might be able to share in her time travelling adventures. That might take a little more explaining though, because Eva sure did have a lot of questions.

“So, you don’t change anything?”

“Not anything major. Like, I can’t stop Hitler or anything, that would change too big an event. Little things, however, like names and stuff, it’s fun to mess around with. Ever wondered why the Italian city, Pisa, has its name? I delivered pizza to the guys who were kind of like the government at the time of its naming. Hence, the Leaning Tower of Pizza.”

Eva cackled. “Wait, what?! God, dude, that’s nuts. What the fuck.”

“What can I say, all I really want in life is a little bit of chaos and also mozzarella sticks.”

-

Mattieeeee sent a photo.

evanescence: is that??? abraham lincoln????

Mattieeeee: Abraham Lincoln was an otter.

evanescence: how so?

Mattieeeee: Point one: look at him.

Mattieeeee: Point two: no seriously. Look at him.

evanescence: oh my god

evanescence: i cannot believe you have a literal selfie with abraham lincoln that’s fucking wild

Mattieeeee: Perks of the job :D

evanescence: literally hire me i want a selfie with cleopatra

-

farrah o’satanic ritual: yall i got out of the shower like an hour ago and i still haven’t changed

Imposter: What can I say, bath robes are in fashion rn

farrah o’satanic ritual: ive told you before clark stop pretending you know how to dress

Mattieeeee: Farrah did you not die in the shower?

katherine: ????mattie???????

farrah o’satanic ritual: no?? i didn’t

SmileyRiley: dang it

katherine: riLEY-

caicrow: riley i thought we’d moved on from murder

Imposter: Plot twist: Mattie was the murderer all along

katherine: CLARK-

Mattieeeee: oops-

-

It wasn't meant to happen, she swore up and down it was a mistake. A true and honest accident. And it kinda was? I mean Mattie hadn’t intended for the scaffolding on the new tower being constructed in Pisa to wobble, she’d already fucked up Pisa once in her career, but… Well, that's what she got for letting loose Giles and Corey (her occasional time travelling companions, who also happened to be cats) in the middle of a Italian city in 1252. She could have sworn the catnip was safely concealed in one of the pockets inside her jacket (which was filled with all sorts of trinkets from her travels in the space-time continuum), yet somehow the two had still gotten into it. She guessed that's what she got for not hydrating-feel-greating and eating-to-defeating.

An old citizen eyed her suspiciously, taking in her struggle with the two cats. Or maybe she was just more focused on Mattie’s goggles - she doubted anyone in 13th century Pisa had seen such a bold fashion statement before. The tower continued to lean in the background.

Finally, Giles and Corey settled down, each in a pocket of her trench coat. Mattie breathed a sigh of relief, which only got halfway out of her before she was sucking it back in as the old lady from across the street began to approach her.

“Young lady.”

Mattie smiled sheepishly. “Hello, ma’am. Is everything alright?”

The lady looked mildly amused. “I couldn’t help but notice your two cats going mysteriously close to the tower before it started collapsing. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

“Oh, no, ma’am. My cats are very well behaved.” Giles gave a resounding yelp at exactly the wrong time. A hiss from Corey echoed from the opposite pocket.

“Well,” the lady grinned, “If that’s the case, why don’t you leave the animals with me? You seem fairly preoccupied with the tower - perhaps you can try and assist its reconstruction?” She held out a hand.

Mattie thought for a moment and then handed across the two cats. “Thank you ever so much, ma’am. I’ll try and be quick.” The woman nodded and Mattie sped across the square to the drastically swaying tower.

When she arrived back at the woman’s table, there was a second lady in animated conversation with her. As Mattie approached, she stood up to take her leave, pressing a kiss to the first lady’s hair as she left. Something was definitely fruity there.

“All fixed!”

“I’m glad.” The woman nudged the cats back to their owner, looking intensely over Mattie’s shoulder to the stabilised tower. “It certainly looks sturdier.”

“I should hope so.”

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, staring pointedly at an area on the structure, “I think about crabs.”

“Oh?” Mattie tilted her head. “Do you?”

“Yes. And often when I think about crabs, I think that they shouldn’t be in Pisa, and they most definitely should not be crawling over the tower.”

Mattie gasped and followed her gaze, muttering curses under her breath. “I didn’t realise I’d brought a whole crab with me! I thought I’d taken the sea life off the rocks!”

The woman chuckled. “You seem to be a strange character. Child, where on Earth did you find not only rocks large enough to support a tower, but also a live crab in Pisa?”

Accepting her fate, Mattie decided to tell the truth. “They’re from Egypt.” At the woman’s questioning look, she expanded, “I’m a traveller of sorts.”

“Oh. Well, child, you’re a gift of a traveller. Brightened my day. Italy these days is far too serious. Maybe we should put more crabs on the leaning tower, huh?”

Tucking her cats back into their respective pockets, Mattie allowed herself to laugh. “Maybe we should.” With a nod and a smile, she wandered off, eagerly awaiting her portal.

-

“Why were you in Egypt anyway?” Eva asked as Mattie recounted yet another of her time-travel-gone-wrong experiences.

“Library of Alexandria.”

“Oh, yeah, because that explains so much.”

“Shut up.” She rolled her eyes. “It was 48 BC, Caesar was burning shit, this random Roman dude set fire to the library.” She pulled a book out of her backpack. “I saved this and stashed away a few of the slabs of rock. And apparently a crab.”

Eva took the book in awe. “Jesus Christ… This thing is, like, thousands of years old…”

“I know, right? Weird.” She watched as Eva flicked through the pages, tracing her finger over certain words or illustrations. “But it was such a beautiful library, I couldn’t let it just burn. So, I retaliated. Burnt the house of the soldier who set the original flame.”

“Mattie!”

She shrugged. “Setting someone’s house on fire is a survival skill.”

“Oh my God.”

“I would have done something more dramatic, but I had to get home. I had a cake which would need to come out of the oven.”

Eva laughed, the sound echoing around the empty classroom. They were skiving class again, this time PE, the one class they had which coincidentally fell at the same time for both year groups. “How are you so normal in school, but so badass when you time travel?”

“I dunno. All I can say is that cake and spite are my only motivators.”

“You’re like a superhero. ‘Time Travelling Mattie: The Only One Who Can Lead A Dual Life Successfully’!!!”

Mattie blushed, shrugging. She definitely needed to take Eva with her one day. A superhero duo. “Okay, that name needs some work. How about: ‘Sanchez And Wheeler, The Ultimate Time Travelling Duo’?”

“I think I like the sound of that.”

“Yeah?”

Eva nodded, shaking her hand like they were signing a business contract. “Yeah.”

[bubblesuga]

Leave Me Lonely

A/N: I’m mad so here’s some angst that turned into smut :)

Prompt: The reader broke up with Yoongi six months ago. Just as she feels like she’s able to move on, he pops up on her doorstep with watery eyes and whiskey laced breath.

Warnings: alcohol, angsty yoongi, cussing, crying, squirting, unprotected sex (don’t do this), mentions of Plan B, oral (F receiving), riding, yoongi and the reader are a mess and don’t know what to do 

Yoongi didn’t know what he was doing here, or how he ended up here. He just knew that he drank a little too much, and his feet carried him from the bar to here. 

Your apartment. 

He could navigate his way here with his eyes closed, which he practically did because he had no idea how he got here. The alcohol running through his veins was thanks in part to the lovely members in his band, insisting on celebrating their comeback with a lot of drinks and food. Unfortunately for him, that also meant that the alcohol was breaking down a barrier that he built up months ago when the two of you broke up. 

It burned. He already had frustrated tears in his eyes just staring up at your balcony, debating whether or not it was actually worth it to walk up the stairs and knock on your door. 

Sober Yoongi would stop him. Sober him would rationalize the break up, saying that there was no reason to bother you and that you more than likely had already moved on with your life especially with how quickly you managed to cut him off. 

Drunk Yoongi is a different story though. Drunk Yoongi is mad that you left him so easily, seemingly unscathed by putting him through one of the worst things he had ever experienced. Drunk Yoongi is upset that you left when he needed you most, when you were the one thing holding him up from barreling into a whirlwind of depression and anxiety. Drunk Yoongi is sad, because sober him loves you still. 

Annoyed, Yoongi reaches up and wipes the tear that slipped from his eye. Namjoon was probably already looking for him, and he knew that he should get back before the cops were called, but with ever step backward he was taking two steps forward until he eventually found himself gripping the railing of the stairs. 

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, taking one last glance downward before he began his ascent up the stairs. 

The third floor seemed to take way longer to get to than before. Maybe it was the way his feet collided with the edge of every step or his hand having to constantly catch himself from stumbling backward. Through the perseverance of his stubborn mind, he made his way up the stairs and with out thinking about it twice, he knocked on your door. 

Well, pounded. He pounded on your door. 

“(Y/N),” he whined, his voice husky, “please open up.” 

The pounding turned to gentle taps when he felt his eyes grow heavy, leaning his face against the door while his finger nails tapped against the door. 

Just as he was about to give up, to stumble his way back down the stairs and forget that this whole thing happened by morning, he felt the weight of the door shift and before he knew it, he was on the ground in the doorway of your apartment. 

“Yoongi?!” You yell, stepping backward when you heard the thud of his body hitting the ground. 

Yoongi groans loudly, picking himself up off the ground, “Your apartment is cold.” 

You roll your eyes, “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

Yoongi could already tell that this was a mistake. Okay, maybe he knew that it was a mistake before but his internalized fight with himself was much too loud for him for him to comprehend anything that was actually happening. 

“I-” he groans as he grabs his head, “I wanted to see you.” His eyes traveled up from the floor to your face. You still looked the same, but now you had lighter hair and it was longer than before. Your face was still the same though, the concerned curve of your brow still rested above your eyes whenever Yoongi did something stupid. God damn, though, you were still just as beautiful. 

“Why? Why on Earth would you think that coming here was okay, Yoongi?” 

Even your voice was the same. The way your lips pursed and the curve of your tongue while you scolded him was still the same. It hit him, the familiarity of you was the reason he was here. He spent so much of his 20s traveling the world that the concept of having a ‘home’ was indescribable. His home was you, because everywhere he went he had you to lean back on, the scent of your Strawberry conditioner in his nostrils and your laughter filling his ears. 

“Because I miss you.” Yoongi shrugged, plopping onto the couch. Your jaw dropped, throwing your hands up in the air as you kicked the door closed. It was close to midnight, you had work in the morning, and you had your ex-boyfriend sat on your couch with red-rimmed eyes. 

“We’re broken up.” You whisper, sitting opposite of him and allowing your face to fall into your hands. 

“Why?” He questions. 

“Why what?” 

“Why are we broken up?” Yoongi’s eyebrow raised in question, his hands clasped together in front of him. His mouth was dry while looking at you, the feeling of having you close yet again was somewhat overwhelming. 

“I told you,” you clench your jaw, “your life was too hectic for me. I couldn’t keep up, I just wanted a sense of normalcy.” 

“Normalcy?” Yoongi scoffs, his earlier anger returning, “You want fucking normal? You think I asked for all this shit to be thrown at me? That’s fucking laughable, that you think I wanted this.” 

“Yoongi, I-” 

“No, let me talk for once,” he stands, throwing his hands around wildly, “you walked out on me because you wanted to be normal? How fucking boring.” 

You swallowed, the sting of his words setting in while you stared at the floor.

“What happened to the woman I fell in love with when we were 20 years old? Where did she go? She was willing to go on every adventure with me, she was there for me when I spent hours upon hours recording and re-recording songs that I wrote, about her might I add, and came home exhausted. She was the one who helped me navigate fame!” Yoongi was yelling now. Although it had been six months without you, his anger was just as futile. He hadn’t allowed himself to feel anything in so long. 

“And what about me?” You spoke quietly, your eyes not leaving the floor. 

“What do you mean, what about you?” Yoongi’s fists clenched and the stench of whiskey was far stronger than you realized before. 

“Well, you sat there saying all the things I did for you. How I was your rock, and I helped you with everything. What about me, Yoongi? You were so caught up in your own feelings that you never stopped to think about how it was affecting me. To be entirely honest,” your nails dug into the palms of your hands while you were trying to prevent yourself from getting in his face, “it was exhausting to try and help you through it while never having any help myself. A relationship is a two way street, and you seem to forget that part.” 

Yoongi was quiet again, sitting back down slowly on the couch while an emotion you couldn’t read was on his face. Immediately, he brought his nails up to his teeth, gnawing anxiously at them. Fuck, he thought, I’m an idiot. 

“Well?” You gesture to him, your eyebrows raised.

He didn’t respond. 

“I don’t even now why I’m entertaining this conversation. I’ll let you crash on my couch tonight but I want you out once your sober enough to get home. I’m going to sleep.” You speak, standing up from the ottoman. You went to your closet and grabbed a pillow and blanket, taking it out to Yoongi who still sat in the same position you left him in a few moments ago. 

Placing the pillow at the edge of the couch, you couldn’t help but feel your heart hurt for the man beside you. You knew that navigating the world of the suddenly famous was difficult, you watched it happen for years, and it took a toll on you as well. You were mentally exhausted, and you never felt like you could talk to Yoongi about your problems because his seemed to be so much more. You felt foolish if anything to try and compare your co-worker yelling at you to Yoongi’s legs giving out from practicing for 12 hours straight. 

Wordlessly, you pat the pillow to soften it, giving him one last glance and turning away while you heard the crack of his teeth biting into a nail. Old habits die hard. 

~*~*~

Yoongi tried his hardest to sleep, but when six in the morning rolled around, he realized there was no use. 

Leaning over to the notebook on the table beside the couch, he flipped to an open page and began writing. If there was anything he was good at, it was putting his words to paper. 

It felt like he was writing for hours, his mind clouding over with thoughts of you as he wrote. Sober now, he had the ability to properly reflect on the words that you were saying last night. It was difficult to discern last night. He was listening, and he heard every word, but he couldn’t get passed the tone that you were using. It was so mature, like you had aged mentally in the six months more than you had in the entirety of your relationship. He feared that he was the one holding you back from your full potential. 

After what seemed like ages, he placed the pen on top of the open notebook on your coffee table, and stood. His feet took a moment to carry him out the door, but he made sure to lock it as he left, hoping you wouldn’t just throw away the note without reading it. 

It didn’t take long for you to wake up after that, stretching your limbs before remembering the events of last night. Quickly, you hopped out of bed and rushed to the living room, scanning the area of the slept in empty couch. 

You sighed, but you weren’t sure if it was in relief or disappointment. Despite everything that happened last night, you still thought it was nice to see him. You had yet to admit it to anyone but yourself, but you missed him. 

You walked towards the coffee table, grabbing the notebook curiously and beginning to read. 

I’m sorry. 

It’s probably better for me to start it off like that than with anything else. I’m an idiot, and I’m so sorry for that. I was so caught up in everything happening that I never stopped to take the time to see how it may be affecting you. Sure, I wasn’t the only one experiencing this at the time so I wasn’t alone, but I felt so alone when I wasn’t with you. 

I used you as a shoulder to cry on, and you didn’t use me. I had no idea you were so hurt, and that’s my fault. You were my partner, you are the love of my life. I should have pulled my head out of my ass long enough to see that you needed me just as much as I needed you. 

I’m in no way trying to excuse my behavior. I’m just trying to explain my side of things. I’m in a better place now, as far as coping with fame goes. I don’t find it to be such a disaster anymore, I’m more comfortable with what fate has laid out for me. Well, everything but being away from you. I’m still working on trying to handle that.  

Thank you for letting me stay here. It warms my heart a little bit to know that you still care about me in some way and didn’t just throw me out on the street.

Although I know I was in the wrong here, I do hope you can forgive me. Even if you never talk to me again, I just want me to be one less thing that had you scorned. 

I still love you Yoongi.

You dropped your head once you were done reading, pinching the bridge of your nose. The sight of his handwriting alone made you emotional. You remembered seeing his scribbles on post it notes strewn across your apartment and his studio of random topics to write songs about. You always found his handwriting endearing. 

Taking in the words on the page, you re-read his sign off more times than you’d like to admit, your chest aching more and more with each time. 

“Fucking Yoongi,” you groan out into the empty room, rubbing the sleep from your eyes, then standing abruptly to get ready for work. 

As you showered, your mind was racing with thoughts of Yoongi. Of course you still loved him as well, but after careful consideration all those months ago, you realized it was better for you to take a bit of time for yourself and your mental health. 

Last night you were angry, and you said some things that weren’t entirely true. Yes, Yoongi did help you out when you were down from time to time. It just felt like your entire existence was spent helping Yoongi that it overshadowed the times he helped you. 

Admittedly you did leave him abruptly. The break up was filled with ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘It’s not you, it’s me’s. You told yourself that you had to get out then otherwise you knew you wouldn’t be able to do it. 

Being without him was so hard for so long, now that you felt like you were in a place where he wasn’t on your mind constantly, he pops up on your doorstep. He looked so damn good, too. Black hair (a stark contrast to the reddish brown you saw him in the day you broke up), black shirt and white jeans. He looked thinner, something that you always worried about with him, but he was still the same Yoongi that you love. 

His face didn’t leave your mind the entire day. The red-rimmed dark brown irises staring up at you in shock as you spewed on about your bullshit reasoning for leaving him. The way he just sat there and took it. The way he looked so defeated when you turned off the light and left him on your couch in the dark. 

After you got off of work, you sat in your car, staring at your phone. 

The contact name was changed from “Yoongles <3″ to just “MinY” a few months ago, something that it took you far too long to do. You couldn’t bring yourself to delete the contact, just in case. 

Sighing, you opened your messaging app and began typing. 

You: are you at genius lab right now? 

MinY: Yes. Please don’t come visit out of pity. 

You rolled your eyes, gnawing at your lip.

You: just let me come see you, dumbass. 

It took him a moment to reply, but when he did you unlocked your phone faster than you ever had before. 

MinY: ok. the passcode is the same.

The drive went by a lot quicker than you had anticipated. When you pulled into the parking lot of BigHit studios, anxiety filled you to the brim. Why were you doing this? What encouraged you to suddenly come here? How was staff going to react to you prancing back in there like you had so many times before? 

Clenching your keys tightly in your hand, you stared at the doors and continued to debate whether or not this was worth it. 

You had no clue what you were going to say, but you had to see him. 

Walking inside, you made it to the elevator successfully with no questions asked. Pressing the top floor button, the elevator stopped midway through and in walked Jimin. 

He didn’t seem to notice it was you at first, walking in while staring at his phone and noticing that the button was already pushed. He glanced your direction to see who needed to go to the top floor, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping. 

“Wh- what are you doing here?” Jimin stuttered, shock washing over him in rolls. 

“I’m here to talk to Yoongi.” You say simply, clearing your throat and trying to avoid his eyes. You couldn’t help but feel like he must be mad at you for hurting his friend. 

Jimin didn’t speak again, only allowing you to walk out of the elevator and down the hall. Your eyes stayed on the floor, your arms crossed over your stomach in the process. You knew that people recognized you, but you just couldn’t face them before you talked to Yoongi. 

Yoongi was never one to be vocal about stuff, and you knew your break up never hit the media, but you couldn’t help but feel like everyone within the company was well aware of what happened. 

Stepping up to the door, muscle memory kicked in and before you could hesitate any longer, you were punching in the pass code and listening to the door unlock. 

You had walked into this scene many times before. Yoongi was sat in front of his piano, headphones on his head, his eyes closed as his fingers played silently across the keys. He was always so focused. 

Seeing this room again had images of you bringing in take out many times and massaging his shoulders while you told him to relax playing through your head. You glanced carefully at the black leather couch in the corner, unable to count how many times you and Yoongi had made love on there.

He still didn’t notice you, opening his eyes and scratching notes across the music sheets. You walked behind his chair silently, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling away quickly once you felt him jump. 

“Jesus fucking-” he turned and met your eyes, his facial expression softening immediately, “-sorry I thought you were Jungkook.” 

“It’s okay.” It was quiet. Both of you were just puddles of anxiety, and Yoongi’s eyes searched yours for any ounce of pity, but there was none. He couldn’t figure out why you wanted to come here, and it took every piece of him not to begin panicking when he initially saw your text. 

He knew if he looked directly into the eyes of his bandmates, he would tell them everything in a panic and they would try to talk him out of saying you could come here. 

“Still looks the same.” You say suddenly, looking around the studio. The shelves of plushies from fans made you smile, he always tried to keep everything that was given to him. You noticed that the mannequin holding the Chicago Bulls jersey now had a BT21 hat sat on top of it, with various chains dangling from it’s neck. Whether Yoongi liked to admit it or not, he took pride in the way his studio looked. 

“Yeah,” he inhales, “I like the aesthetic. Makes it feel like home.” 

Making conversation with Yoongi had always come to easily before. Now that you hadn’t seen him in half a year, it felt tense. Not necessarily awkward, you knew if the circumstances were different you two could talk for hours whether it be about songs he’s writing or projects you’re working on. He just kept looking at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something. 

When your eyes trailed along his desk, you saw the photographs lining along the side. They were mostly Polaroids of him and his bandmates, except for one framed picture of the two of you when you first began dating. 

The picture was taken on one of your many visits to the dorm, Yoongi’s arms wrapped tightly around you while he looked down at your sleeping figure. You knew Namjoon took the picture, and later teased Yoongi immensely for the amount of love and adoration in his eyes while you slept soundly with him so close to you. 

You haven’t slept that well since you broke up. 

Yoongi spotted where your eyes were staring, reaching over and putting the picture face down. Silently, he saw the pained look in your eyes as he did so, swallowing and slowly placing it back up. 

“W- why?” You asked softly, his expression unreadable while he stared down at the floor. 

“I wasn’t lying when I said I still love you.” He didn’t look at you when he spoke, so your eyes went back to the photograph. 

Even in your sleep, your fingers clutched his arm around you, never wanting him to let go. Despite always feeling like he wasn’t there for you the way that you were there for him, you realized in that moment that his love language was different than yours. He silently supported you, loved you, cherished you. It was different from past relationships so you weren’t sure how you could see the signs. 

All this time, he was there for you in his own way, and you were too blind to see that.

You didn’t break your gaze away from the photograph until you felt a single tear slip from your eye. You moved quickly to wipe it away, but Yoongi had already seen. 

Normally he’d rush to comfort you, to pull you in his arms and allow you to cry it out on his shoulder, but he couldn’t right now. You weren’t his to comfort. 

“I’m so sorry.” You whisper softly, meeting his burning gaze. 

Again, he was unreadable. He only soaked in your words silently, before tossing his head back, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Because I didn’t see that you were there for me, just in your own way.” Another tear fell from your eyes. Yoongi had seen you cry before, but rarely. Every time, it was silent. He’d never seen sobs rack your body like you had seen him, but even this was enough to be jarring. 

“So I guess we were both a bit stuck in our own worlds, huh?” Yoongi spoke up after a moment, allowing you to silently soak in his words. 

It’s true. You were both so caught up in trying to navigate your own feelings that helping each other almost felt like a chore. Although you wanted to help each other, when your anxieties get overbearing it just makes it that much more difficult. 

“Past tense?” Your eyes were still on the picture. 

“Past tense for me. As I mentioned before, I’m in a better place than I was before, again besides the not having you around part.” He explains, suddenly feeling a little more relaxed than before. His nails weren’t being gnawed at constantly, instead his hands rested in his lap, clutched together. 

“I-” you begin, swallowing a choked sob, “I thought I was doing better without you.”

You could read Yoongi’s expression again. Sympathy crossed his brows, his eyes beginning to shine over with unshed tears while he watched you cover your mouth in an attempt to quiet your cries. It took everything in him not to reach forward and pull you into his arms. 

Then he couldn’t stop himself. 

Sliding his chair closer to yours, he hesitates for a moment before pulling you forward and into his arms. 

You fell into them so easily, your head falling onto his shoulder while your legs moved to straddle his thighs. He held you tightly, inhaling your scent while silent sobs racked your body.

“I’m so sorry,” you cry into his neck, “I’m so stupid.” 

All of your thoughts were a jumbled mess. You wanted to tell him that you didn’t properly think through leaving him, you wanted to tell him that you were so caught up in your own mind that you were being selfish. You wanted to shout it from the rooftops that you were the idiot who broke Min Yoongi’s heart, but your tongue wouldn’t form the words you so desperately wanted to say. 

“No you’re not, baby,” he strokes your back, “I did the same thing, remember? Our early 20s were a weird time for the both of us. We couldn’t expect perfection when we both had a lot of growing up to do still.” 

“You’re always so good with your words.” You pull away from his neck, noticing your tears on his shirt. Yoongi reached up and wiped away the wetness on your face with his thumbs. A sad, somber smile rested on his lips. It was the same one he had when you left him.

The memory makes more tears begin to fall. 

“P- please forgive me.” You whisper softly. 

“Oh baby,” Yoongi pulls you back in for another hug, “there’s no need to forgive each other because there’s nothing to forgive. We’re grown more as people, and we can both admit our mistakes.”

“I love you.” You breathe. 

Though it was something you said routinely when you were with him, it felt foreign on your lips to say again. 

“I love you too.” Yoongi responds, his hands stroking the back of your head. 

Then he pulls you down to him. You feel excitement rush through your body at the thought of his lips on yours again, but instead he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

“What does this all mean?” You ask. 

“I don’t know yet,” Yoongi right now was such a contrast to last night. He was much more composed than before, and you no longer smelled whiskey on him, “I feel like we shouldn’t try to define what’s happening to us right now. If we hop into something too quickly, it won’t end well. I just know I want you in my life in some way.” 

You nod, wiping your nose. You took this as his way of saying that you were too close right now, so as you went to crawl off of his lap, his hands flew to your thighs and for the first time since you entered the room, his eyes seemed pleading. 

“I didn’t say I didn’t want you on me right now,” his fingers dug into your hips, “this is the first time I’ve touched you in so long. Please let me savor it.” 

Wordlessly, you move your hands to his wrists, guiding them up the sides of your body until they reached your cheeks. You embellish the feeling of his hands on your face, closing your eyes for a moment. 

His fingers were so long. You couldn’t help the images of his fingers knuckle deep in your heat flashing through your head. You opened your eyes to meet his, silently hoping he would begin to touch you again. You didn’t realize how starved for touch you were, but only his touch. 

Yoongi’s hands slipped off your face, trailing down your chest softly until he palmed both of your breasts in his large hands. You tossed your head back at the feeling, your tears long forgotten as you silently thanked yourself for wearing a thin bra today. 

“Do you want this?” He questions, his hands still kneading you. You looked down at him, unable to form words as you nodded. 

Yoongi moved his his hands underneath your shirt, slipping it over your head to expose your bra-clad chest. The minute your shirt was over your head, you couldn’t take it anymore. You gripped his face in your hands and slammed your lips onto his. 

The kiss was filled with so much need, but was also a silent apology. Yoongi was just as greedy as you were, his tongue darting out and into your mouth the moment you gasped at the feeling of him tugging at your nipples. 

The chair was too small for the two of you, so you tugged softly on the collar of his shirt to follow you to the couch. His lips didn’t leave yours as you moved, his hands unhooking your bra in the process and tossing it haphazardly. 

Yoongi fell on top of you when the back of your knees hit the couch, careful to catch his weight but unable to ignore how hard the sight of you shirtless in front of him was making him. Instinctively, he ground his hips into your spread legs, allowing you to feel him through the thick material of his jeans. 

“Please.” 

Yoongi took your plead as permission to slip your skirt and panties off of your hips. The sweet smell of your arousal immediately filled his nostrils. He thought he would burst through his zipper at the sight of you. Though your eyes were still rimmed with red from your earlier tears, the sadness was replaced with lust, need, and love. 

Yoongi slipped off the couch and pulled you towards the edge, moving your feet to each of his shoulders. 

“Fuck,” the word fell so effortlessly from his lips, “you’re so fucking wet.” 

“All for you.” You say, tutting your hips closer to his breath. 

Then Yoongi dove in. His tongue delved into your soft, pink flesh. You spread your lips for him, allowing him better access as his tongue wrapped around your swollen clit and sucked harshly. Your body convulsed at the feeling, finally feeling his fingers press into your entrance. 

Animalistic moans fell from your lips, your free hand flying to his hair and tugging harshly at the roots. This caused a groan to leave Yoongi’s throat, the vibration heating your core. 

“You’re still so loud,” he peaks up from you, his face half covered by your pelvic bone, “give me more, baby. Tell me how much you like it.” 

His fingers moved so much quicker now, his tongue lapping at you like it was his last meal. His words were enough to encourage you to scream his name as he curled fingers in just the right place, your orgasm rushing through your body in heated rolls. You didn’t even realize you were squirting until you unscrew your eyes open, glancing down to see Yoongi’s shirt and face soaked as he drank in your orgasm with blown out eyes. 

Something about the way his tongue kept finding itself on your clit as you rocked through your release made you come undone again seconds after the first. 

“Oh my god,” his hands shook at the sight in front of him, “I- I almost came in my pants. You’ve never squirt like that with me before.” 

You hid your face shyly, your chest heaving. You had never squirt before in your life, and both you and Yoongi had knew that. 

“Can you keep going?” his eyes were still wide, “are you- that was so hot.” 

“Fuck me, Yoongi.” You say as you lean forward, unbuckling his belt quickly. His hands beat you to unzipping his fly, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one go. 

You didn’t hadn’t had anyone inside of you since the last time you and Yoongi had sex, and the feeling as he pushed the head of his cock into you again was one of absolute euphoria. A harmonized moan fell between the two of you and he didn’t move for a moment, just drinking in your fucked out expression as your jaw dropped when bottomed out. 

His teeth grit together, “So tight and wet.” 

“Please move.” You ask, grinding your hips down onto him for any sort of friction. 

“I-” he couldn’t form a sentence. Yoongi was always the one in charge in the bedroom before, but having you around him again was breaking him. He didn’t know how to think, how to move. All he knew was your clenching walls milking his cock for everything that it was worth. 

You sensed his hesitation and flipped the two of you, straddling his thighs and beginning to ride him to your hearts content. His fingers dug into your hips as you did so, and all he could do was watch you. 

You leaned down to him, pressing your lips to his. He reached a new spot inside of you, his hips beginning to tut into you to meet yours. 

“I love you.” You breathe, Yoongi swallowing your gasp in the process. He didn’t respond, only allowing his hands to roam your body. 

“I’m gonna- oh fuck- where do you want me to cum?” Yoongi managed out, and you felt him twitch inside you. 

You had completely forgotten he wasn’t wearing a condom, and that your birth control ran out months ago. You just wanted to feel him cum inside you, the thought pushing your orgasm closer to the edge. 

“Baby-” Yoongi struggled to contain his moan, “If you don’t stop, I’m gonna cum inside you.” 

You nipped at his neck, “Then cum inside me, Oppa.” 

The use of the honorific was enough to send him over the edge, his hands stilling on your thighs as hot, thick strings of cum shoot inside of you. You moan his name as you come around him, milking his orgasm out of him in one of the most intense orgasms you had ever had in your entire life. 

Sweat drenched the both of you, your chest shining as Yoongi took your nipple in his mouth in a last ditch effort to please you just a little more. You couldn’t move, knowing that his cum was slowly leaking out of you and covering his own cock. 

Yoongi moved you to sit beside him, most of his cum spilling out in the process and covering the couch. He was too spent to care, only being able to look over at you while you cuddled into his side. 

“We’re going to have to get Plan B.” You whispered suddenly, your thoughts unclouding in the after math of your release. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi said, his thumb stroking your thigh, “you’re not on birth control anymore?” 

You shook your head, “Didn’t need it.” 

This made Yoongi’s heart flutter, knowing that you hadn’t had sex or wanted it anytime soon if it wasn’t with him. For a moment he forgot the last six months had happened, and that you were back for good, ready to softly stroke his head to sleep again. 

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, moving so you laid on top of him, “Shall we take a nap?” 

“But-” 

“We’ll talk about everything when we wake up. We’ll make decisions once we aren’t recovering from mind-blowing sex. Just, hold me right now. Then whatever we decide later will move our lives in the direction that it needs to go.” Yoongi said, silently begging you not to leave him high and dry.

You only nod, laying your head on his chest. 

In your sleepy state, you try not to over think his words too much, only trying to inhale his scent and the memory of his arms around you because there’s a chance that this is the last time that this happens. Even if that’s not what you want at all. 

So you two fall asleep, the soft breathing shared between the two of you lulling you into a deep sleep, your dreams filled with thoughts of a black haired boy with a gummy smile. The love of your life. 

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Plz i need more papa dabi with his little girl! They're so cute! Can i get dabi with a preggo s/o? At first he doesn't want to be inhis baby's life but when his s/o is involved in an acciedent where the baby had to be taken and put into an incubator he runs at high speed to the hospital and wants to see his little girl! Just imagine him sticking his hand into the incubator and the baby grabbing it and he cries? The s/o didn't survive the acciedent tho :(. It's ok if u don't want to write this..

Mentions of abortion and dabi is toya theory

He laughed.

The bastard had the nerve to laugh when you spilled the tea... when you took all of the courage in your being to tell him taht you were carrying a baby.

His baby.

Suddenly he went to look at you, his smirk slowly dissapearing when he saw your expression.

"Wait, shit-You're serious?" He asked out of no where and you almost snapped.

"Of course Im serious Dabi! I'm pregnant!" You almost cried out, knees almost giving up on holding your form as a billions of thoughts went through your boyfriend's head.

"... we can't." He breathed out, dedperation coming over his eyes but his face still hold onto the same resting bitch expression of his "We can't kept ... whatever the fuck you're carrying."

"I'm sorry but what?!" You exclaimed on horror "How can you even say that? Dabi I-"

"Listen." He said between teeth "We can't have a kid, okay? I can't have a kid... I'm no good for you for fuck's sake, imagine for this thing growing on your-"

"Don't you dare call our child a thing, Todoroki Toya." You growled, not backing away when he glared past your soul for using THAT name on him.

"Don't test your luck now dollface. Or even myself can get rid of this problem we got in." The words slipped his tongue before he could stop them before he felt a huge sting on his stiches and right cheek.

He hissed a bit and looked over at the woman he loved for years... completely broken and absolutely terrified of him, yet a hand still on the air to prove to him she indeed had slapped him.

Well, he deserved it. He couldn't lie.

"Listen..." you sobbed and he could feel his heart shattering "If YOU don't want to be a part of this baby's life, be a better father than yours was... that's alright, but I AM having this baby Dabi. Whether you liking it or not." You cried but still manage to stay with your gaze locked to his.

"(Y/n)..."

"No. If you don't want this kid, then you won't want me then, since I am having this baby."

He snatched his coat before grabbing the handle of the door before looking at you dead in the eye, words spilling like the venom of a snake.

"I should have fucking pulled out when I had the chance then huh?" He slammed the door right after, fighting with himself to prevent him to come back when he heard you falling and collapsong with cries in your apartment.

~

Nine months have passed since then, and after all the shit he had been through, this was by far the worst time of his life. He couldn't raise a kid while being a villain, he was already aprehensive on entering on a relationship, yet... you were the only one able to enter his heart and break the barriers he worked so hard to build ever since his childhood.

"Yo check it out! Disgrace!" Spinner's loud voice echoed on the room as he pointed at the Tv. A car accident aparently as some heroes showed their false selfs off to the reporters while some hurt pregnant woman was hurt and...

He jumped from his seat, turquoise eyes widening so much that his staples hurted like a damn bitch. But he couldn't care less to his pain, he couldn't care less at hearing shigaraku and the others asking him where he was running of to.

No, he couldn't care about a fucking thing when his doll was the one injured.

Wearing his disguise while running he almost sey on fire someone blocking his way as bis legs almost created wings from how fast he was running. His heart was on his ears as he manage to follow the ambulance.

Bjsting on the hospital he was easily barried by the security and some nurses.

"Get the fuck out of my way before I burn you pieces of trash to crisp." He said nonchantly but glaring through his glasses as he showed his palm on fire.

At the sudden scare of them he jumped and stormed his way until one ghard holded onto his shoulders.

"Young man you cant go on there. That woman is on a surgery right now. Between life or death situation."

"Bullshit I saw that woman kicking ass far better than All might, let me enter bastard." He was at the verge of shouting as some other securities came to help contaon the villain.

"Listen, family is usely allowed to wait on another room but-"

"For fuck's sake, I AM THAT FATHER'S KID!" He shouted in ager as some flames erupted, scating the poor workers as they let them in at least on the waiting room.

Boucing his knees fervently, he flinched when a doctor came to talk with him with a frown.

"Im sorry sir. We could only save your daughter... but the mother suffered a lot of loss of bloss."

He felt like screaming... vomiting? He didn't know... he had lost you. He cjrsed under his breath shakily before slamming his fist on the wall... his stiches coming out and blood of his being spilled on the wall and the floor as the doctor watched silently.

He couldn't even fucking apologize for being an ass to you...

He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder but he growled and shrugged off anyway. The doctor, not taking it too personally, decided to spoke up.

"I understand your state of mind... but if you wish, your daughter is on a incubator. Safe and sound, you can go see her without a problem, just ask the nurses and they will lead you there." The man spoked before leaving the room, letting Dabi scream all of his wtath and destroy the room in the middle of his outburst and regret.

Crouching down on the ground, he brushed his indigo looks out of his eyes as he let out tears to slip down his eyes, to his scars then drop on his clothing.

Standing shakily up, he made his mind. You wanted to so badly have a kid, his no less... it didn't matter whose he was or what his past was about... you loved him and then he treated you like that?

He looked at the window and the sky outside to see it was about to rain... promissing to you, wherever you were, that he was not going to mess up the last remain of love that you both had.

Following the nurse without a word he almost gagged when he saw the bundle of clothing enevelopong such a small human being that had a tuff of his natural color hair. He didn't had words to deacribe on how beautiful that sign was...

You would have loved amd even cried with that...

"This is your daughter sir! Congrats! Rei is such a cute and healthy baby despite being pre mature."

His head jerked in her direction as he mouthed a what... shocked and frozen at hearing that name.

"Oh! Sorry, but before... she died, she only could say that her name was Rei. She kept saying until she blanked out.."

He looked at the girl and slowly lifted two of his fingers to touch the incubator in a mix of regret and adoration.

The nurse mumbled that she was leaving them for a while just when the baby had opened her eyes to look at him sleepily. He forgot how to breath for a second befofe he saw the baby touch her hand where his fingers where before smilling and giggling for the first time.

He couldn't control the disgusting sob that ripped out of his throat as he watched the girl smile back at him despite how he was wearing. He couldn't believe that she was a perfect mixture of him and you... but judging by the giggles... she took a lot from your personality.

"Hello... Rei."

[hoe-doroki]

Between Fear and Guilt

pairing: Shouto x American cisfem!Reader

wc: 2.5k

genre: light angst, comfort

warnings: sex is mentioned? rated pg-13

summary: You and Todoroki only started being intimate a couple months back, but somehow you’re already experiencing a dry spell—not by your choice. Today’s the day you’re going to figure out what’s up with your boyfriend once and for all.

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Getting Shouto alone in your room had been your favorite sport in your third year. First of all, it was generally easy and, secondly, you were good at it. 

It was that generally that made things tricky, though. At first, it had been easy almost all the time. The two of you would separate yourselves from the class to do homework—and you always would!—but then you started kissing. And over time that had turned  into petting and, as of a couple months ago, the evolved into the whole shebang. But lately, Shouto had started hitting the pause button preemptively, often wanting to actually get your studying done before the evening would devolve into debauchery. And it really was your studying, since you always had to do more than him. Naturally smart, native Japanese, handsome bastard.

You’d been at the tail end of your English homework when you’d pounced tonight. The two of you had been sitting on the floor, leaning your backs against your bed when you’d set down your pencil and started running the back of your hand up and down his arm. He’d glanced at you, expression blank before turning back to his work. You, of course, always got easy grades in English. Shouto always did just as well, if not better since he never made the mistakes a lazy native speaker would. So you’d calculated it as a good opportunity to get frisky. English was the subject the both of you could finish—or bullshit through—the quickest. Since Shouto knew that too, you were hoping that he wouldn’t insist you finish before he let you touch him. 

It seemed you’d bet right. When you started kissing his jawline he caught your lips with his, dropping his pencil as well. You hummed happily as he gave in, his cold hand coming up to the back of your neck to bring you closer. Taking that as an invitation, you pushed his work off his lap and swung a leg over to his other side, quickly situating your lap in his and grabbing both his cheeks in your hands. You were careful of escalating things too quickly, so you sat back a little, comfortably resting on his muscular thighs instead of slotted core to core. Your hands traveled up to his hair, marveling in the slightly thicker texture of his red locks to the white ones. He breathed into your mouth as you closed your fists, not quite pulling but giving a soft scratch and tug to his roots.

His hands were traveling under your thin shirt, feeling your bare sides and grabbing him, and you shivered under the different temperatures of his hands. Neither one was too hot or too cold, but the contrast was always sharp enough that your body would react at first touch. You pulled him closer to you, whispering, “I’ve missed you,” pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

He stiffened and you knew you’d misstepped. In the past few weeks, the two of you had kissed, touched a little, but that was as far as things had gone. It wasn’t like you were dying for affection—you knew your boyfriend wasn’t the most sensitive guy out there; it was what you had signed up for and you were happy with what he could give you—but come on. You’d only started having sex a couple months ago and already you were in a three week dry spell despite being two of the lucky few to have rooms on the only floor without any pervs (Mineta or even Kaminari or Mina), and no one who would yell at you (Iida or Bakugou).

You tried bringing your lips up to his mouth, but it was a lost battle. Already, your boyfriend was far less responsive, his hands coming out from under your shirt and his mouth hardly impassioned as it met yours. You already knew what he was going to say when he pulled away and stated, “We should finish our homework and go to bed.”

You sighed. “I don’t suppose you mean the same bed?”

Shouto wasn’t really one for euphemisms so you didn’t wait for an answer as you pulled your leg back and slumped back beside him, your heated cheeks suddenly more pronounced now that you weren’t as close to him. You wondered if his cold side was putting a chill in the air—it certainly would have made ironic sense.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and it sounded like he meant it. But you didn’t understand why. All you could do was try to push down the toxic answers your brain was feeding to you—that you weren’t good enough, not pretty enough, not talented enough. If Shouto actually thought those things, you had no doubt he would have broken up with you.

“Let’s just finish,” you said, every ounce of your strength going into sounding casual instead of bitter or pouty. You could finish this in ten minutes, five if you didn’t double check your work, and then you could go to sleep and forget about your failures in seduction.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, a hint of insistence coloring his otherwise low monotone, “could you go on birth control?”

Your eyes widened as you turned to Shouto, his long, white bangs hiding his face from you. There hadn’t been a stutter in his words nor even more than a breath of hesitation, but he wasn’t meeting your eyes either.

“Do…Do you not want to use condoms anymore?”

The both of you had only ever been physical with each other so, technically, it should be safe to rely on birth control without an external barrier. But you couldn’t imagine why Shouto would have been withholding sex just because he wasn’t a fan of condoms. It’s not like he had anything to compare them to.

“No, it’s not that,” Shouto said, his breath heavy as he kept eye contact with his kneecaps. “I’ve been looking into the effectiveness of condoms in preventing pregnancy and they can have an eighteen percent failure rate. Meanwhile, the pill, the patch, and the ring are nine percent, the shot is six percent, and an IUD or implant are less than one percent.”

Honestly, you hadn’t even heard of all of those methods before—what in the world was the ring? You’d thought that you and Shouto had been prepared and careful your first time—and all subsequent times, few as they had been—but you suddenly felt that maybe you hadn’t done enough research. Surely some of that failure rate had to come from condoms breaking, right? And if that happened, you could always buy an emergency contraceptive*, right? Although, you’d have to go to a drug store for that and you’d need permission to leave campus, and you’d heard those pills worked the best the sooner you used them…God, maybe you really hadn’t planned enough.

Shouto continued, “I understand if you don’t want to because almost all of those things involve hormones and some necessitate medical procedures. I would do it myself if I could but it seems male birth control research halted when quirks appeared and is only just now making progress again. I’m really sorry to even ask but…eighteen percent? Isn’t that terrifying?”

The last words came out more like a whisper and you could see that your boyfriend really was terrified. His hands were clenched and you could see all the pronounced muscles on his arms flexing with tension as he tried to keep the worst of his feelings in. He didn’t seem embarrassed, but he was obviously caught somewhere between fear and guilt and you wanted to kiss it away, but you kept your distance, not wanting him to pull away from you again.

“And then if something did go wrong, you have irregular periods, so we might not know until it’s too late,” Shouto said. “What would we do then?”

You could see the cycle he seemed to have been putting himself through these last many weeks, the catastrophic thinking. You weren’t sure if he’d imagined that since you’d started having sex every intimate encounter had to go all the way, but maybe it didn’t matter. If you’d been having these kinds of thoughts, you probably wouldn’t want to be touching anyone intimately either, even in ways that couldn’t cause pregnancy. If you’d been that scared.

“Shouto,” you said, your voice low and soothing as you could make it. “You’re right. Okay? You’re absolutely right. I’ll make a doctor’s appointment as soon as I can. You can even come with me if you want, so that you know what’s happening.”

“You’re not mad?” he asked, finally looking at you, and you smiled.

“Of course not,” you said. “I just wish you hadn’t kept this fear so bottled up. I mean, I don’t want to get pregnant either!”

You cupped his cheek, turning his face even more towards yours so he could see exactly how not mad you were. “I know that,” he said. “I guess I was just nervous. Some of these methods can be really hard on people with internal genitalia. I read about side effects with mood swings, more painful periods, weight fluctuation, possible ectopic pregnancies—”

“We just might have to try a few different things then,” you interrupted. “We have time.”

Shouto cracked his first smile of the night. “Of course.”

You put a hand on his leg, giving his cheek a smooch. You didn’t try for more than that, though. If Shouto wanted to hold off on sex until after you were better protected that was fine. It didn’t mean you couldn’t do other stuff, but you didn’t think the moment called for it. You were content to stay connected hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, glad he’d finally filled you in on his fear.

But then a little thought wormed its way into your brain. It started small, probably the way Shouto’s had before he’d dived into the apparent ocean of research he’d done. But it was already growing, creating a million what-if scenarios in your brain. You glanced over at Shouto, who now looked at peace as you rested next to each other. You didn’t want to ruin that just after he’d gotten something hard off his chest. But, at the same time, now was the time to ask. You didn’t want to wait another three weeks or however long it took for the conversation to come up naturally. No, you had to ask. You had to know.

“Shouto…do you…” You weren’t quite as good at being straightforward as Shouto was. You were honest and always said what was on your mind when the moment called for it, but sometimes getting the thought out was still hard, even with your boyfriend. “Do you…ever want children?”

It wasn’t a question you really wanted to ask. You were both eighteen and this wasn’t something that should make or break a relationship at your age. But you liked Shouto so much that you couldn’t help thinking about things in terms of forever. Maybe it was an immature byproduct of this being your first relationship—you were sure it was, actually—but you didn’t care. For you, what felt real was real.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” Shouto said. “I just know that I don’t want them right now. Do you want children?”

“Like in ten years, but…yeah,” you admitted. “I’ve always imagined having children.”

Truly, ten years was a minimum. A pro hero career would not be made easier by pregnancy or children, so you wanted to wait at least ten years, if not until you were comfortably in your thirties. After all, you were realistic. Your twenty-four-year-old sister had given birth to her first baby last year and, though happy, her life had been totally upended. You couldn’t imagine that being you in just five years.

But you did want them. And even though there were no guarantees that you and Shouto would be together in ten years, the idea of being with someone who wasn’t imagining that same kind of future as you were saddened you. What would you do if he decided he didn’t want them? And with the childhood he’d had, he had every reason not to.

“Hmm,” Shouto hummed. At some point, his arm had slung around your shoulder and he was idly rubbing your bicep. “How do you know that?”

You shrugged against him. “I don’t know. It was always a given. When I think of my future, I see children. Probably just two, not a litter like our families. And I know it’s probably a societal thing, but I don’t care. I still want it, even though it will make being a hero hard.”

“It’s really hard having one parent as a pro hero,” he said. “I couldn’t imagine having two.”

“It’s really hard having one parent as Endeavor,” you corrected. “Iida’s parents are heroes and he has a good relationship with them.”

“I suppose that’s fair,” Shouto said. “But his brother.”

“If fear kept people from having children, no one would ever have children, Shouto,” you said. “I’m not saying it’s not a valid reason, because it definitely is for some people, but every parent fears for their child and every hero fears death. When combined, those things are compounded. But that won’t stop me.”

You didn’t want to have to sacrifice your career for having a family—that was too painful a cliché to live up to. You wanted the other cliché, the cliché of having it all. You already knew you were unlikely to ever be a top-ranked hero—your quirk was just too specialized for that. So you were already working on a side-career to have on top of that, one that would work better with having a family down the line. But Shouto’s dreams were that of being the number one hero, so it was probably harder to see. Harder to see past anything but his father, the actual number one hero.

“I don’t understand how you’re so sure,” Shouto said.

“Because I’ve thought about it for a long time,” you said thinking of your plans of being a therapist, all your life goals—the specific way that you would save people. “You don’t have to decide today. But it would do you some good to work through the fear and find out if there’s anything underneath it.”

“Okay. I’ll think about it.”

He said it like it was easy, but you knew that he wasn’t taking it lightly. He was squeezing your shoulder tightly and when you glanced at his face, his eyes were thoughtful.

“But for now…” you said, bringing him back, “doctor’s appointment. I’ll make one tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Shouto said.

“Of course,” you replied. “You should feel safe with me. All the time.”

He pulled you towards him, but the only way you could get closer was by resting your head on his shoulder. Which is exactly what you did.

“I already do.”

*PSA: Emergency contraception (plan B) is mentioned but, since the reader is of an unspecified weight, this is a great time to remember that plan B doesn’t work for all weight classes! Read that fine print before use—you might have to take two doses or buy a more expensive product (horrible, I know!) We don’t want any unexpected pregnancies around here!

[mypoisonedvine]

I Never Danced Until I Met You- Chapter 2

[Chapter 1]

Taglist: @a-banana-for-your-thoughts @saint-hardy @sophiasescape  @letscici @itsametaphorbriansblog @wackiekebab @tinyybiceps (idk it won’t let me tag you properly ugh)

Word Count: 4.1k (and it’s allllll banter lol)

Rating: still T……….. for now

You were already on horseback when he approached you in the courtyard. “Where’s my horse?” he asked as he saw you.

“You can walk beside mine,” you suggested.

“Oh no, I get enough of that with Geralt,” he protested, already climbing up onto your saddle, “I’m sharing with you.”

Before you could stop him, he was sitting behind you, his form enveloping yours.  You swallowed dryly.

“I bet this is what you wanted all along,” he postulated in a provocative tone, speaking quietly since he was already so close to your ear.  He smelled of soap and leather.

“There were no spare horses in the stable,” you replied, and though you were telling the truth your voice came out a little shaky.

“Riiiight.” You couldn’t see his face but you assumed he was winking or smirking or something.

Instead of continuing to defend yourself, you shook the reigns, prompting your horse to begin trotting towards the gates.

“To the east are the training fields,” you explained as you motioned in their direction, “where my troops prepare for battle.  To the west, the furthest wing of the castle.”

“Where are your quarters?” he asked suddenly. 

“I’d nearly forgotten how forward you are,” you replied with an eyeroll that he couldn’t see.

“I couldn’t forget how lovely you are,” he waxed poetically, “but regardless, I was just making conversation.”

“Some conversation,” you scoffed.

“You doubt my honour?” he asked with surprise (and a hint of sarcasm).  You tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work.

“If you must know, my quarters are just outside the Queen’s.  I am expected to come to her aid first in case of an emergency,” you explained.

“Not much privacy there, I’d imagine.” 

“I’ve no need for it,” you replied with a touch of surprise.  You hadn’t even really considered that aspect.

“Sounds like a boring life,” he mumbled

“To you, I’m sure,” you responded, “but I live a life of integrity, which I have found demands little privacy to be conducted.”

“I think integrity is something people think they have until they’re challenged,” Jaskier philosophised.

You didn’t respond right away, and he suddenly seemed very proud of himself. “Ah, left speechless by my incredible accuracy?” he teased.

“The idiocy of your statement was so severe, I required a moment of silence to process it,” you replied coolly.

“I know why you’re so hell-bent on antagonizing me, you know,” he said, his voice getting quieter.

“What’s that?” you pressed.

He leaned in closer to your ear, his breath tickling against your skin.

“You have to convince yourself you hate me, because you lead the sort of life where you can’t develop those pesky ‘feelings’ you’ve managed to avoid all this time,” he posited, “and the only emotion you’ve ever been allowed to have is anger.  So you’re angry with me in lieu of being attracted to me, which- hate to break it to you- isn’t a choice.”

You swallowed dryly, thankful he couldn’t see your facial expression in that moment as it would’ve surely given you away.

You scoffed weakly, realizing a moment of silence wouldn’t do you any favors.

“Men like you always have some ridiculous story to explain how every woman who isn’t interested is secretly weak in the knees for them,” you deflected.

“Then tell me it isn’t true,” he offered.  “Just say I’m totally wrong, and I’ll believe you.”

You almost considered confessing that he was entirely accurate- more right about the situation than even you had been up until that moment.  But then you remembered this was your life and not a fantastical story, that you were a knight and not a duchess, that he would leave the castle in a few days and have his choice of the women of the world (so long as they were of comparable social standing) and you would be forever tied to your duties.

“It isn’t true,” you lied confidently, “you’re totally wrong.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“Nah, I still don’t believe you,” he pshawed.

“What?  You said you would!” 

“I thought I would, but now that you’ve said it, I’m sure more than ever that it’s true.”

You sighed, kicking the horse gently to keep up its pace as you continued trotting through the castle grounds.

“It’s not true,” you repeated after an awkward silence.

“I know, I know, you’re a cold heartless warrior whose only business is breaking bones,“ he sarcastically agreed.

“Is that what you think warfare is?” you snorted.

“I just wonder how many hearts you’ve broken,” he continued, ignoring your question.

“None,” you responded, looking south towards the mountains and appreciating their beauty even having seen them every day.

“Preposterous,” Jaskier scoffed.

“I’ve never had a suitor, or secret admirer or anything of the sort,” you shrugged.

“How could you know if you had had a secret admirer?  Wouldn’t it be, you know, secret?”

“I just know,” you frowned. “No one acts like they have any interest in me.”

“Maybe they’re just very subtle about it,” he considered.

“Subtle?  I didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary,” you mocked.

“It used to be,” he smiled, “but my affections for you are too strong to be suppressed.”

“How many women do you say that to?” you asked deridingly. 

“How many women are knights?” he returned.

“Just me,” you sighed.

“Just you,” he repeated, his tone sounding more thoughtful and serious suddenly.  

You pondered that briefly but thankfully the silence was broken as your horse took you over the crest of the hill, overlooking the entire city.  You heard him gasp a bit as he looked out, and you lifted yourself off the saddle and onto the ground.

“Great view, isn’t it?” you commented as you looked out over the cobbled streets and thatched roofs and smoking chimneys.

“Lovely,” he observed, following you onto the grass and taking in the scenery.

“You’ve probably seen more extravagant places in your travels,” you hedged.

“Perhaps, but extravagance isn’t all there is to life,” he explained as he sat down on a rock.  “I can appreciate the simple beauty of a quiet town.  It must have been nice growing up here.”

You took a seat on the ground nearby, as sitting next to him on the rock would require getting closer than you were ready for.

“It wasn’t this nice when I was growing up here, actually,” you recalled. “War-torn, crime-ridden…”

“What changed?” he asked.

“New management,” you smirked, motioning behind you to the castle.

“She seems like a good leader,” he considered.

“She’s incredible.  She turned this nation around, truly.”

“Well, I’m sure she didn’t do it by herself,” he assumed.  You gave him a quizzical look. “Someone had to enforce the new laws, clean up the streets,” he clarified.

“Oh, well, yes, the cavalry did some policing; nowadays we have constables for that,” you remembered.

“You make even more sense as a copper than a knight,” he chuckled.

“How’s that?”

“You’re laying down the law with me every five minutes and you ask why I think you’d make a good police officer?” he scoffed in reply.  

“I don’t usually need to be so uptight,” you defended, “it’s the criminal in you that brings out the cop in me.”

“Me, a criminal?  Look at this innocent face,” he pouted.  “If anything, I’m the victim: I’ve recently had my heart stolen.”

“I’ll give you one thing, you’re persistent,” you groaned.

“I didn’t say it was you,” he noted.  Your head whipped around to look at him, and he started to chuckle.

“Relax, love, of course it’s you,” he reassured as you felt your cheeks flush. “You’re not as stoic as you think.”

After several moments passed in reverent silence, something you weren’t sure before was possible with someone as talkative as Jaskier around, you decided that sitting quietly let your mind wander further than you wanted it to go.

“How’s your archery?” you inquired suddenly, standing up and dusting the grass off of your trousers.

“Haven’t held a bow since I was eleven,” he answered, following suit by getting up off the rock, “so I’m sure it’s spectacular.”

“Frankly I’m more of a swordsman myself, so I can’t promise to be the greatest teacher you’ve ever had, but maybe you’d enjoy a refresher course,” you offered.

“You’re too kind,” he replied, jumping back on the saddle. “I promise to be a worse student than you are a teacher.”

~

“Elbow up,” you instructed.  His elbow did go up, but then it shot out to the side, throwing off his entire posture again.  You used two fingers to push it back into place.

“Realign your shoulders,” you added, “your back keeps slipping forward.”

“That’s because this posture is rather uncomfortable!” he whined.

“Yes, well, hitting your target will ease the pain.”

“Not for the target,” he mumbled as he readjusted his position.

You stood beside his bow and made little adjustments, moving his hands and back where they needed to be for accuracy.

It wasn’t until he looked at you that you realized the bow created a sort of barrier which prevented you from realizing how close to him you were standing.  If he faced you, which he just had, your faces would be just centimetres apart.  You used your hands to move his face back to facing downrange.

“Take the shot,” you encouraged quietly, and he did, the arrow zooming past both of your faces as it whipped the air with its feathers.

You watched the arrow hit just west of the bullseye, and Jaskier turned to you with a smile, relaxing the bow.  You stepped back so you wouldn’t be standing so close anymore.

“Hey, not so bad!” he observed.

“Quite excellent, actually,” you corrected.

“You’re a better teacher than you let on.”

“No, I fixed your positioning but that shot was all you,” you explained, “most people flinch when the arrow fires, which makes it impossible to keep steady.  You were fearless.”

“Fearless?  That’s not something I get called often,” he replied in shock.

“You asked a knight on duty to dance.  Clearly you have no fear of death,” you smirked.  He chuckled, pulling another arrow from the quiver.

“Speaking of death, think I can make a bullseye this time?” he asked as he prepared his shot.

“I’d be surprised.”

“Would you be impressed?” he asked with that tone that made you nervous for what he would do next.

“I… suppose,” you responded hesitantly.

“I just know there are stories about knights performing physical tasks to win the affections of princesses and whatnot,” he remembered, “and I wondered if I could win a knight’s affections by hitting a perfect bullseye.”

“Affections aren’t won, they’re earned,” you replied sternly.

“Earned?” he repeated, relaxing the bow and looking at you again. “Then, there is some way to get you to fall for me.”

“I didn’t mean it quite that way,” you corrected.

“So then there’s no way for me to get through?” he asked.

“Yes, exactly,” you frowned, getting more frustrated.

“That doesn’t make any sense!” he protested.

“It makes perfect sense to those of us who can accept the fact that you and I will never be anything more than acquaintances.”

“If they’re not won, and they’re not earned, then they’re just random.  Just the unstoppable will of destiny.  You didn’t strike me as the type to believe that sort of thing,” he explained.

You thought about that for a moment, not realizing before how quickly your logic on love could fall apart.

“Destiny, if it’s real, wills for me to be alone,” you scowled.

“Just because you’ve been alone so far, doesn’t mean you need to be alone forever,” he replied, his voice gentler and softer than before.

“Maybe I want to be alone,” you suggested.

He smiled, facing back downrange and pulling the bowstring back.

“And yet, here we are,” he whispered as he let go and made the shot.  You watched with a dumbfounded expression as the arrow landed right in the center: a perfect bullseye.

You looked back to him and almost wanted to hide your shock, but it wouldn’t have worked anyways.

“How did you make that shot?!” you asked, entirely flabbergasted.

He relaxed the bow, looking back to you with that effortless confidence you envied so much.

“Must have been the will of Destiny,” he shrugged.

~

You were almost ready to go to the main hall for dinner, needing only to brush your hair a bit after a long day outside.  The Queen had requested you join the staff and guests for dinner off-duty, even though you normally ate alone when you weren’t expected to attend as the Royal Protector.  She had actually recommended that you wear a dress but truthfully you didn’t even own one.

Being ready early, you snuck into the kitchen to get a glimpse of what they’d be serving that night.  You knew it would be quail because you’d see a servant going to the coop just a few hours ago, but what you were curious about, as always, was dessert.

Entering through one of the staff corridors, you breathed in the wonderful smells of bread and spices.  It was hot in the kitchen, almost too hot to be comfortable, but it was worth it when you saw an abandoned tart laying on a countertop.  It looked to have burned a bit on one side, meaning it was probably abandoned without plans to be served.  The good news?  The unburnt half was up for grabs.

You made sure that no one was too close before you grabbed a ladle and went to town.  It was sort of shameful, but at least you didn’t use your hands!

“Hey, you’ll spoil your appetite!” A kitchen maid scolded.

“What’s an appetite for if not stolen desserts?” you defended, your words muffled by the food in your mouth.

“A kitchen’s not for eating,” she frowned, “take your quarry outside, at least.”

You made a face of displeasure as you grabbed the tart and carried it into the hall.  You heard a few sounds of people moving towards the hall where dinner was set to begin shortly, but figured you could find an alcove of relative privacy.

You weren’t even properly surprised when Jaskier appeared, at this point you expected him to show up at your most embarrassing moments.  And you didn’t have the energy to stop eating over it, either.

“You do have a wild side,” he observed as you scooped tart into your mouth unceremoniously.

“Who said I didn’t?”

“Oh, I always knew it, don’t get me wrong,” he winked, “just didn’t know I’d be seeing it so soon.”

“Is it everything you dreamed?” you asked sarcastically.

“More jam than I imagined,” he replied with a quirked brow.

You shuddered to consider what he had imagined as your “wild side.”  Somewhere between a good and a bad shudder… and up until now you hadn’t realized there were good shudders.

“I have a soft spot- just the one- for dewberries,” you explained.

“Rest of you’s steel?”

“Of course,” you confirmed, “any other fruit, I’m impenetrable.”

You regretted that choice of words.  You looked at his face to see if he caught it, but his expression was hard to read.  Definitely not creepy or conniving or anything of that nature; soft, maybe even thoughtful.  Sad but not like sad sad… okay, you weren’t great at emotions.

You were just about to look away, thinking you’d been looking at him too long, but then you started to wonder how bad it would be if you just let yourself look at him.  What’s the harm in that?  You let your gaze scan his body, something you had simultaneously longed to do and dreaded the idea of.  His outfit was more practical than you expected, less glitz and glam and perhaps more traditionally-masculine… though still plenty scandalous in its own ways.  His chest hair peeked out from his collar, not that it had to be very low for that to happen, but it was plenty low anyhow.  He had traded in his doublet for a tunic, more traditional in your kingdom, which was fortunately and unfortunately much tighter.  You’d seen men in a variety of states of undress before, you used to sleep in the barracks after all, so there were surely no surprises under there.  And yet, you felt so tempted to see more.  You knew he was pretty strong from his archery, but you wondered if he was strong enough to-

You caught yourself going down a dangerous path and stopped while you still could.  Your eyes shot back up to his, which were looking at you with darkness, hunger.  He didn’t say anything and yet his face already said it all.

“Want some?” you offered nervously, holding a spoonful of tart out to him.

You had expected him to grab the spoon but instead he lightly touched your hand, guiding you to feed him.  It was oddly intimate, his touch so delicate and electrifying that it almost tickled.  His eyes stayed on yours as his lips wrapped around the silver spoon, pulling his head back to get the food off of the utensil.  A little of the filling got onto his bottom lip, and you watched, enraptured, as his tongue darted out to lick it off.  

“What do you think?” you asked, your voice much shakier than you preferred, as you set the tart down on the nearby credenza.

“Delicious,” he answered softly, his eyes piercing right through you.

You heard more people moving through the nearby halls and realized dinner must be starting any moment.

“Still hungry?” you asked, intending it to be an offer to go to the dining hall.

“Ravenous,” he replied in a low voice, low enough for the bass of it to seem to shake right through you.

He stepped forward, bringing you much closer together.  It was terrifying and yet so wonderful.  Instinctively you reached up to push him away, but then as you did you regretted it, so you ended up just wrapping your hands around his arms without actually holding him back.  He returned, placing his hands on your triceps which was an oddly personal part of your body.

Right as you realized you had no idea what to do next, Geralt appeared from around the corner.

You jumped back, sort of an instinct when caught in an intimate moment.  Maybe it wasn’t that intimate, but by your standards it was rather scandalous.

“Am I interrupting something?” Geralt asked in a way that seemed perchance a bit mocking.  Before you could answer, he looked at the credenza and made a face of confusion.

“What’s the pie for?” he grimaced.

“Consumption?” you offered.  What else would it be for?

“Right,” he affirmed. “‘Finger in every pie,’ as they say.”

“…Huh?“ 

"Dandelion has a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, that’s all.”

You didn’t know how to react to that, even how to interpret it.  He walked away, and you gave Jaskier a confused look as you followed.

Dinner was delicious, but you were too distracted to properly appreciate it.  Not distracted by good conversation, certainly- the dukes harassing Geralt for details about the day’s hunt was not intriguing- but by your own thoughts.  Jaskier made you so angry, so confused, made your heart race and your head hurt and your stomach all loopy and nervous.  He still felt like a stranger to you in many ways, though talking to him had more in common with a conversation with an old friend than an acquaintance- not that you knew all that much about what it was like to have old friends.  You weren’t sure if it was normal to feel jealous when you saw your old friends chatting up other women.  He was making some duchess laugh like she’d never heard a joke before- even the servant girls thought he was charming.  It took you a while to realize that it was the cause of your feeling sick, not something wrong with the food.

Just after the final course was served, you figured it not too early to excuse yourself.  You stood, hoping to make a quick and mostly unnoticed exit, but Jaskier stood as soon as you did.  You stopped, expecting him to say something, but he didn’t.

“Are you also retiring?” you asked him, confused.

“Men are obliged to stand when a lady enters or exits a room,” he said, like it was obvious.  And you were suddenly surprised it wasn’t obvious.  The table had been obeying that etiquette for the other women who had entered when dinner began.

“Oh, yes,” you agreed nervously.

Jaskier looked around the table, seeming a bit frustrated.

“Am I wrong?” he asked rhetorically.

The men at the table stood, begrudgingly, even Geralt.

“That’s better,” Jaskier sighed.

“I’m retiring for the evening, thank you,” you said with a quick bow as you rushed for the doors.  

You almost expected him to chase after you, just because he seemed to follow you everywhere.  Instead you didn’t see him until much later when he knocked on your door.

“You found my quarters,” you observed.

“I wanted to apologize, if you felt scrutinized at dinner,” he explained. “I didn’t think I would draw any undue attention to you.  I just… assumed everyone else would stand, I suppose.”

“No one here thinks of me as a woman,” you replied with a sigh. “You’d do well to remember that.”

“Do you think of yourself as a woman?” he pressed.

“I-” you began, but then stopped as you realized that you really weren’t sure how to answer.  You didn’t even really think of yourself at all, generally.  Since meeting Jaskier, you certainly thought of yourself as a woman a lot more than you used to.

“You don’t really have that luxury, do you?” he prompted solemnly.

You nodded.

“You deserve to be treated better,” he announced.

“I tell my troops not to use words like ‘deserve.’  They don’t really mean anything.”

Jaskier crossed his arms, seemingly unsatisfied with your philosophy.  “It means that it would only be fair if you were given the same respect you give to others.” 

“‘Fair’ doesn’t mean anything either,” you smirked.

“What about ‘love’?  What does that mean?” he asked, his tone more serious.

“Doesn’t mean what you think it means,” you scoffed.  Maybe you were being too combative, but you didn’t like that he was throwing ‘love’ around and you really didn’t like how your heart skipped a beat when he said it.

“And what’s that?  Please, enlighten me,” he requested sarcastically.  You frowned.

“This might blow your mind, but ‘love’ isn’t something that happens overnight, let alone at first sight,” you explained.

“Just because I’m a romantic doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” he deflected.  

“Just because I’m practical doesn’t mean my life is devoid of meaning or something,” you countered.

“Just because you’ve been burned before doesn’t mean you should give up on ever being happy!” he shouted.

You didn’t even really mean to slap him, it just sort of happened.  You didn’t even hit him nearly as hard as you know you could have, thankfully.

“I’m happy the way things are!  I’m happy being alone!” you asserted, slamming the door in his face.

You turned and held your face in your hands, fighting back tears.  You couldn’t remember the last time you got so angry, or the last time you’d cried.  You hated that he was always following you around and you hated that he was always saying some stupid thing like he talked in poems and you hated that he was always right, that he saw right through you.  Had it always been this obvious?  Had everyone else in the whole nation figured out that you actually weren’t happy, and just never thought to mention it?  Or, had no one else ever cared enough to notice?

Ashamed of having punished him for doing everything right, you opened your door and hoped you could still catch him as he was heading back to his room and apologize.  Instead you found him still standing there, in the same place, waiting patiently.  You jumped, wiping your tears.

“You’re still here?” you asked in surprise.

“I’m still here,” he assured.  It felt like a promise, like something important.

“Do you want me to go?” he asked, but you knew he knew the answer, and he just wanted to hear you say it.  You decided to afford him this one little gift, just this once.

“No,” you answered, “I don’t want you to go.”

He looked at you expectantly.

“Please stay,” you requested.

“All right,” he agreed, and stepped into your room.

[next chapter]

[one-boring-person]

You Died!

Alaric Saltzman x Reader

Context: Set towards the end of episode 20 of season 3, just after Alaric has completed his transformation. The reader is Ric's best friend and is distraught after finding out he will ultimately die, not yet knowing Esther has made him complete the transition.

Warnings: Blood, some death, "lethal" biting

A/N: This is my first time using Tumblr as a writing platform, so forgive me if the format is a bit off.

Exhilaration courses through me at the sensation of the wind rushing around me, the cold air blocked out by my riding leathers, thankfully, my helmet preventing my eyes from tearing up, keeping my vision clear enough for me to navigate the dark, twisting road with ease. Beneath me, my black and chrome roadster growls loudly, the vehicle responding to my every move with a sensitivity it’s always had, the engines revving as I push the bike into a faster pace, knowing no one else will hear me out here. Normally, I would never consider going out at this time, especially not on the motorbike, and definitely not at this ungodly speed, but after today’s events, I feel as if nothing else will clear my head sufficiently.

Tightening my grip on the handlebars, I try to ignore the grief gnawing away at my heart, planning to deal with it tomorrow in whatever way I feel fit, whether that be drinking ridiculous volumes of whiskey or beating up some poor punching bag somewhere, or doing something much more dangerous. For now, all I want to do is forget about the fact that my best friend died, or is currently dying, and that there’s nothing I can do about it. And I never got to tell him how I really feel. At that, I grit my teeth and accelerate the motorbike again, nearly hitting the 100 mph mark on the metre as I drive around the winding bends of the deserted road, the thrill at riding at such a speed doing little to cure my current state of mind, only reminding me of what he would say if he saw me being as reckless as this. Under my helmet visor, I feel a tear roll down my cheek, leaving a hot trail in its wake.

Turning a corner, I brake a little as I catch sight of the thick bank of fog that seems to occupy the road, unsure of whether or not to continue on into it; after all, Klaus is still out there and up to his tricks. Too late, I figure out the bike won't slow down in time to avoid it, so I carry on through the eerie white mist, cutting the speed slightly, only to push it back up again as I decide to get through it as fast as possible, even if I can barely see a thing. The headlight seems to do nothing, the pale light catching on the fog, making it appear thicker than it actually is, illuminating only what is directly in front of the front tyre.

For what feels like hours but is in fact only minutes, I drive through the bank of fog, slightly confused as to its sudden appearance, until I reach an abrupt break in the suffocating cover, everything becoming clear and visible very swiftly. I only have a second to register the figure standing in the road, in which time I sharply pull the handlebars to the side, tilting the bike dangerously as it skids past, the wheels losing traction on the slick tarmac, careening into the side of the road. As it makes contact with the barrier, I am flung from the seat, the world spinning in my view briefly before I crash to the floor, my body smashing against rocks and tree branches as it rolls over and over, coming to a halt at the base of a road sign, pain exploding across me from multiple points of my body. Breathing hard, I try to move, only to find myself incapable of doing so without invoking a sharp stab of agony from my new injuries, leaving me lying helplessly at the side of the road, bruises littering my skin, my conscience slowly starting to fade.

A pair of hands on my waist snap me from the cloud of pain, the appendages roughly pulling me up onto someone's shoulder as they carry me back onto the road, their breathing as heavy as mine. A whimper of pain leaves my lips at the jolting motions, the air leaving my lungs as I am thrown, violently, onto the tarmac, my head cracking against it slightly as my helmet absorbs the shock. Agony erupts in my limbs and chest, drawing a long, low groan from me as I try to find my assailant, confusion and horror filling me as I recognise the person standing over me. Bending over, he harshly pulls my helmet off my head, revealing my bruised face to the world as he looks down into it in disgust.

“Alaric?” I croak out coarsely, thinking I’m hallucinating, spitting out a mouthful of blood as it wells up in my throat, signalling to me that I have internal bleeding. Above me, my best friend and crush of six years eyes the trail of crimson liquid as it flows over my face, a hungry look in his now-dark eyes.

“(Y/N).” His voice is low and sinister, the tone proving to me it’s not the caring man I know and love, but the side of him I’ve come to call Psycho Alaric, due to his murderous tendencies.

“Y-You died...” The words are forced as I feel the agony of my injuries, both mental and physical, start to take over my body, more blood flowing from my parted lips.

Above me, Alaric crouches down to my level, a predatory look on his handsome face as he stares at my prone figure, taking in the torn riding leathers, as well as the darkening bruises surrounding my jaw and temple.

“I did.” He simply states before reaching down to me, pushing his arms under my torso as he pulls my body closer to his, one of his hands cupping the back of my head, threading his fingers tightly in my hair, the overall movement wringing a quiet whimper from me. Hearing this, Alaric licks his lips, his eyes roaming over the blood covering my chin, dropping to the skin at my neck.

“What...What're you doing?” I question him, fear starting to accompany the throbbing pain in my body as he lowers his face to mine, his breath fanning over my skin, hotly. At any other time, I would’ve felt giddy at the thought of being so close to him, but now it scares me – there’s something off about him.

In way of reply, Alaric leans further into me, his familiar scent overwhelming me, as well as the sharp odour of blood, swiftly swiping his tongue over my chin, drawing up the crimson liquid staining my skin, a surprised grunt leaving my lips as a hungry groan leaves his. Pulling away, he looks down at me with obvious desire, his face suddenly changing as familiar veins form under his eyes, his lips pulling back to reveal razor sharp fangs, the overall expression not unlike that of a vampire's. In seconds, he pulls me to him, crushing my body against his as he sinks his teeth into my neck, biting into the soft skin with ease, blood flowing from the wound into his mouth, his hot tongue swiping over the area a few times to draw up every drop of the hot liquid. Around my head and shoulders, his grip tightens, the sensation of him sucking my blood out of my arteries somehow feeling euphoric in comparison with the previous, agonising pain from the crash, a sigh falling from my tongue, moans and grunts of appreciation and need leaving the lips he has pressed against my neck.

Already, I feel my conscience leaving me, black spots appearing all over my vision as he finally pulls away, blood coating his chin and lips, satisfaction evident in his eyes as the veins and fangs retreat, dropping my limp body to the ground as he stands, wiping the substance away with his sleeve. Giving me one last glance, he smirks down at me before leaving my broken body lying on the tarmac, the pain becoming too much for me to bear as I finally fall into the darkness at the edge of my vision.

*

Bright light assaults my eyes as I crack them open, a dull ache starting in my head as I try to lift my hands to rub them, trying my best to remember where I am and how I got here. Coming up blank initially, I look around at the room I’m in, recognising the bed beneath me as belonging to one of the Salvatores, Damon in particular, meaning I'm in the boarding house.

“Morning, sleepy head.” A familiar voice greets me from the corner behind the bed, a quick look proving to me that it is, in fact, Damon.

“W-what happened?” I manage to croak out at him, confusion lacing my voice as I try to recall how I got here, staring blearily at the raven haired vampire as he rolls his eyes, exasperated at my question.

“You crashed your motorbike, I think. I found you a couple of hours ago with your body broken and bruised as hell, and with an impressive bite mark to top it all off. You were nearly completely drained of blood.” He responds, his tone light even though I can see the worry in his piercing eyes.

At his words, the events that got me here rush back, the images of Alaric drinking from my neck sparking a sense of dread in me.

“Alaric.” I mumble, knowing Damon will hear me, even from his position across the room. Instantly, I find the vampire standing at the side of the bed, having used his unnatural speed to reach me, a confused and curious look in his eyes.

“Alaric? What do you mean?” His voice is tight at the thought of his friend.

Swiftly, I explain everything to him, watching as a look of grim horror crosses his handsome face, realisation setting into me. Alaric, somehow, made the transition.

As if on cue, a bang from another room interrupts the silence that has settled on us, drawing my attention towards the door, a confused look on my face.

“That’ll be Bonnie.” Damon muses, brow creased a little as he stands, looking back down at me.

“Bonnie?” I question him, puzzled.

“Yeah, Alaric got her, too.”

Shock fixes me in place for a second before I can speak again.

“He did? How?”

A pained expression crosses his face at my question, the subject obviously a sensitive one.

“Our old friend the Original Witch possessed her to go and help him complete the transition. It was her blood that sealed the deal.”

“Esther did this?” Horror and hopelessness well up in at the idea of the witch being back, especially when I consider the fact that Alaric's fate has been sealed by her, at which point anger accompanies the initial feelings.

“Yep. I’m gonna go deal with Bonnie now. Get some rest, you'll need it for tomorrow.” Damon suggests, smiling slightly as he turns and leaves the room, allowing me to try and fall asleep once more, which is easier said than done, what with the turbulent thoughts and crippling grief churning around in my mind. Eventually, though, I manage to tire myself out, my body forcing itself to sleep.

[twiceblackvelvet]

im the person who asked for the 10th emmber reaction!!! thank u omg i loved it and u did so fast it's great!! can i please request a reaction based on that prompt but for jeongyeon??? thank u so much!!!!

A/N; hope you enjoy anon, thank you for both requests🖤

Being a member of the nation’s biggest girl-group comes with immense pressure. If there isn’t a camera in front of your face like there is currently, it would be unusual. A lot of that time is spent with a smile convincing enough to please your adoring fans, however, the nine girls you share the stage with know that it isn’t the real you. Truthfully, your journey to becoming a member of TWICE was rough. The rules against what you can and can’t do, the constant training and evaluations almost shattered your spirit, confidence, and dream to even potentially debut never mind make it as an idol. 

Amazingly, all of those things are not what has caused you to often lock yourself inside your room in the dorm. You don’t avoid people because of your experiences from before your debut. It’s because every day you’re reminded by one member in particular that you’re not wanted. Of course, it’s never been said to you with words but you’ve always believed that actions speak far louder. 

Your audition process was fairly simple, you recorded two videos of you singing and one of you dancing and sent it off to the company after having been spotted at a fan meeting for a rookie group your friend liked. You were invited to the company for an evaluation and the next thing you know, you’re signing a contract and your training soon began. At first, it was all a whirlwind of emotions and experiences. You were in awe of all of the talented people you’d casually bump into every now and then. But all of that changed when you met her. 

Jeongyeon was already a trainee when you entered JYP but the two of you had never met until a few months after you had signed. The dance studio was always where you felt the most comfortable, whether it be to let loose yourself or watch the other trainees work on new choreography. The world must have been out to get you the first day you met her though as it’s by far the most embarrassing moment of your life thus far.

Your hand gripping a reusable coffee cup being knocked by Jeongyeon’s body as she entered the studio door you were exiting and spilling over the both of you is not the first impression you’d wish to make on anyone, yet it’s what both of you are stuck with when thinking back to your first meeting. Even thinking about it now makes your toes curl and head pound in frustration because that split-second moment of stupidity has led you to be stuck in this current position of Jeongyeon seemingly hating your entire existence. 

Your relationship with the other members of TWICE is strong. The bond you hold with each of them is so special to you that you can’t imagine ever doing anything to jeopardize that. They’ve all always made sure to reassure you whenever you’ve had second-thoughts or doubts about your talent. But the more you think about how Jeongyeon will avoid all conversations with you or refuses to spend longer than three seconds alone with you, the more frustrated and angry you become. But now is not the place or time to be thinking about the fact that you’re deeply disliked by someone you’re supposed to be close to and who fans call one of your ‘sisters’. 

So, as you sit and listen to the interviewers’ questions about what you’ve all been getting up to lately and asking you to offer compliments to each of the members one by one, your brain turns back into work mode and throws out the easiest lie you can think of on the spot when you finally reach her name. 

“Jeongyeon has a wonderful voice.” Your own ears pick up on the bluntness and forceful way the words fall out of your mouth, luckily the interviewer doesn’t and moves on to asking Tzuyu to compliment you all. 

It isn’t a lie, you think, Jeongyeon does have a remarkable voice that if it came from anyone else you’d love to listen to for hours. However, over the years, her voice simply reminds you of all of the times she’d point out your smallest mistakes, tell you that your issues are not her concern whenever you’d try to speak to her or simply throw out sighs whenever you’d enter the same room as her in the dorm. You don’t want to hate Jeongyeon but she makes it very difficult for you not to. 

The rest of your day consists of an appearance on a popular new variety show, filming an ad for a music streaming app to promote your new album and finishes with a photoshoot with both group and solo shots. By the time you’re in the van to head back home, the sun is rising and your eyes struggle to remain open. You can hear Mina in the front seat playing video games on her phone, Momo is passed out beside you with Nayeon draping across her body like a koala. Sana is seated behind you quietly eating snacks and scrolling through her phone peacefully. 

At the very back of the van, Jihyo and Jeongyeon are seated beside each other engaging in a hushed conversation that you’d struggle to hear under normal circumstances but even more so with the bickering of Dahyun, Chaeyoung and Tzuyu as they discuss the latest drama they’ve been watching. Your head perks up slightly when you hear a faint whisper of your name but you’re unable to figure out which of the members have said it. Sleep takes over your body preventing you from overthinking and you put to rest another busy day. 

When you awake several hours later you’re inside of the dorm resting comfortably on the large sofa with a blanket draped across your body. One of the managers must have carried you inside so as not to disturb your sleep. As you slowly raise your body to head towards your shared bedroom, you notice the kitchen light is still on with a shadow of a seated body on the wall. Curious as to why someone is still awake your feet carry you towards the only source of light available. 

Regret immediately fills your body as Jeongyeon’s back comes into sight. She hasn’t noticed you yet as you mentally curse yourself for inquisitive. A thought pops into your head about how angry and annoyed you were earlier in the day and you notice you may not get another opportunity like this to confront her and try to find out why her behavior around you is so different compared to everyone else.

“Can I talk to you?” You can visibly see Jeongyeon’s body tense up with your words. When her decision to seemingly hate you first began, you may have apologized for startling her like this but you’re past the point of caring now. She releases a deep sigh but nods her head in response. 

The tension between you both is suffocating and you worry about just how often the two of you have made the other members uncomfortable with this unspoken feud you have going on. You decide to put an end to it once and for all here.

“Look, I know that you know there’s something weird between us. I’m not blind or stupid. I can see that you rush out of any room I’m in. You snap at me all of the time even if I haven’t done anything to bother you. You’re so caring towards the other girls and yet you make me feel so small and unimportant. I can’t even begin to tell you how many times I’ve considered giving everything up because you’ve made me feel worthless or have refused to just put aside whatever pettiness you’ve created so we can be a stronger group. I want you to tell me honestly what your issue is so we can either fix this or I can decide once and for all if I want to continue to be around you as a member whilst making myself depressed in the meantime.”

Your eyes focus entirely on the sleeves of your sweater unable to look Jeongyeon directly in the eyes as your deepest and darkest thoughts brim to the surface and spill out in front of you both. The dam you built around the floodgates of your feelings has well and truly been broken. Her eyes, however, are staring a hole into your own as she watches you silently explain just how difficult she has made life for you the last few years. 

“I’ve tried so hard to just ignore you whenever you’d make me feel like this but it’s so hard when you’re around me constantly with this invisible barrier preventing us from truly being present and real with each other. I can’t do it anymore, I just… I can’t. I’m fed up of being your punching bag without you giving me a valid reason for your actions.”

The silence that fills the entire dorm once you’ve finished speaking almost makes you get up, walk out and likely never return. You just want an answer and she isn’t even willing to give you that after you’ve very clearly explained the toll all of this has taken on you. As you stand and turn away from Jeongyeon, panic begins to rise inside of her and her voice breaks your concentration on how you’re going to explain leaving TWICE to everyone you know, your fans and the members.

“I love you.” It’s your turn to be startled now at the sudden words you’ve heard from Jeongyeon several times for other members but never yourself. “Please, stay. I love you. Let me explain everything, please.”

She rises from her own seat and moves towards where your body is frozen in place unable to move, unable to breathe and unable to think about anything other than the three words she’s now repeated twice. Her arms slowly turn your body to face her and your eyes find her own. There are tears streaming down both of your faces and Jeongyeon slowly wipes a few of your own away with the pad of her thumb. 

“I love you y/n. I know it doesn’t look or feel like I do, I’ve acted like the biggest idiot in the world. But, you have to know that all of this was to protect both of us.” Your face contorts into a confused expression and Jeongyeon realizes she’s going to have to explain things from the beginning.

“Do you remember the first day we met? You spilled your coffee on us both and practically ran away from me just saying sorry over and over again? I remember thinking you were the cutest person I’d ever seen. I asked some of the other trainees about you and they told me you practically lived in the dance studio. So, I started to watch your classes whenever I wasn’t training myself. You became my escape from all of the pressure of debuting. I’d watch you dance and become inspired, you truly are amazing.” 

The words don’t feel real as you listen to them. All of the times you’ve recalled meeting Jeongyeon it’s been to scold yourself and remind you that first impressions are important and a bad one can ruin things more than you know. 

“You know that Jihyo and I are close, right? She’s my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without her. I told her all about you, how you danced so elegantly, how you’re by far the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, all of it. You can ask her if you’d like. But she made me realize that if I were to tell you all of this, you might be uncomfortable around me. So, when the managers finally told us the final line-up for our group, I knew I had to prioritize that over what I thought was just a small crush.” 

For a second you consider pinching yourself to check all of this is real. For years you’ve fought so many mental battles over the thought of Jeongyeon hating you. Yet here she is revealing that it’s all been over her attraction towards you. She doesn’t allow you to dwell on it for long as she continues speaking.

“It turned out to be much more than a small crush. I thought if I pushed you away, refused to be around you or to accept you that I’d get over it. But my heart simply won’t let me ignore you. You have no idea how many times I’ve wanted to tell you all of this but I was so scared you’d hate me, tell the others and then they’d hate me too. The possibility of you ever feeling the same way just wasn’t something I felt was going to happen. I’m not saying that now it will or that I’m going to suddenly pursue you, I just need you to know that I don’t hate you. The problem has always been that I’m very much so in love with you and I’ll never ever be good enough for you.” 

There’s a deep feeling of conflict inside you upon hearing Jeongyeon talk about her fears. Despite it all, you’re proud of her for finally finding the courage to let all of this out. You desperately want to believe her and let this silliness go, but your mind which has been through so much hurt doesn’t wish to forgive her yet. 

“Please say something. Anything. Even if it’s that you don’t want to speak to me ever again.” She begs. 

You turn away from her and the action alone is enough to break her heart, but your words stop the cracks from forming.

“I can’t say I forgive you for everything, nor do I at this moment feel the way that you do. But I’m willing to put all of this aside and move forward if that’s something you want too. No more avoiding each other or being unkind to one another. Let’s try to be friends first and we’ll see where that leads us.” 

Jeongyeon extends her hand towards your body, when you don’t react she grabs one of your own and places it into hers. She shakes your hands together lightly. 

“Hello, I’m Jeongyeon and I’m very silly. It’s nice to meet you.” 

For the first time in years, you think everything will be alright. 

[kinghoranshit]

Just Another Normal Story (HS) - PT 4

I cradled our daughter, Harmony, in my arms. I felt exhausted. It’d been the two days since she came into the world the morning of November sixth. 

A conclusion I came to about all of this was, at least it was happening when the weather's getting colder. Zombies couldn’t handle that, right? And we had the fireplace to keep the house heated if the power went out completely. We had no cable or internet though. 

“Nichole,” My dad’s firm voice filled my head. 

I looked over at him and he was giving me that look. 

“Dad.” I shot him a look.

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “We’re running out of food.” 

I shook my head. “No, not yet.” 

“Come on, Follow me.” My dad tilted his head toward the doorway.

I looked down at sleeping Harmony. I didn’t want to let her go. 

“You need to see what he has. I’ll take her,” my mother stated. 

Finally, I nodded and handed her over to my mom. 

We went down to the basement into his workshop and he handed something to me. The wooden crossbow I used three years in a row for my Halloween costume in high school. I had been a zombie slayer. Ironic, I know. 

I didn’t know why he handed this to me. It didn’t work. It was broken last I knew. But as I glanced at it in my hands, it looked brand new. 

“You fixed it up? Why?” I asked. 

“For you to use,” he remarked. “Become that zombie slayer.” 

I laughed. “Dad, it was just a costume and a joke. We both know I’m too scared of zombies.” 

“I’m scared of zombies too. But killing them takes it away little by little. Here.” He now handed a bag of metal arrows to me. 

“I don’t even know how to use this!” I exclaimed, trying to shove it back into his hands. 

“I’ll teach you. It’s not hard. Just a pull of a trigger and putting the arrow in is a piece of cake. One of the quickest reloading weapons.”

I shook my head. “This is fucking nuts.”

“What’re you going to do when you run out of supplies for Harmony? What if I end up dying?”

I kept my mouth shut. I already knew the answer. I felt this certain feeling surging from deep within my chest. The adrenaline kicked in at the thought of stepping foot out of the barricaded house. I hadn’t seen what it looked like in two days. It could be completely different. Or the same. Probably the same.

“Got anything I can practice on?” I asked. 

***

I wiped the gleam of sweat off my forehead as I panted. I walked over to take the metal arrow out of the bullseye target that had a botchy sketch of a zombie tacked onto it. My goal was to get in the forehead. And if the arrow didn’t go all the way through, I’d have to get up close and personal. 

“Nichole!” Harry called. 

“Yeah?” I yelled back, loading another arrow into the crossbow. She worked well. After a couple hours, I’d gotten pretty decent. Not sure I was good enough to go out yet. Well, mentally anyway. This surely would lead to major therapy in the future if we survived and somehow a cure came about. I already couldn’t sleep much, worried they’d break down the barriers and overtake us. 

“We’re out of diapers.” His figure appeared at the doorway of the garage. I could hear them outside every once and awhile. I was positive they could smell me through the metal door. 

I stared at him a bit blankly. “We can’t be.” 

“But we are,” he remarked. 

I felt my heart lurch into my throat. It wasn’t like I expected us to just hide away in the house forever. I was hopeful of it, but knew we couldn’t. It wasn’t realistic. 

I sighed heavily, grabbing the satchel of arrows, and continued to hold the crossbow in my hands. I walked in past him and into the living room. My mom was on the couch still, holding a giggly Harmony. 

“C’mon, Nikki, we’re going to Target,” my dad ordered, reloading his shotgun. 

“What? Just us two?” I shot.

He nodded. “Yeah. Harry will stay here with mom and Harmony.” 

“No, no, no.” I shook my head. “That’s a bad idea. We should stick together.” 

“We can’t take a baby out there,” my mom argued. “It’s too cold.” 

The thought from earlier popped back into my head.

“If it’s too cold for her, wouldn’t it be too cold for the zombies?” But I knew as soon as the words left my mouth, it was a no. “Nevermind.”

But then the thought of this thing from ‘Warm Bodies’ came into my head. “Do you think putting zombie guts on us would prevent them from smelling us? That way we can get more when we go to Target. We wouldn’t have to watch out as much.”

“That might work.” My dad nodded. “Harry, mom, and Harmony are still staying here.” 

I huffed in annoyance. I just had a bad feeling with them not being in my sight for so long. 

***

I pulled the green army jacket on over my blue plaid shirt. That which I wore with a grey tank underneath, denim skinnies, and brown combats. Why not? I never thought I’d actually wear this outfit again, but it seemed like an essential thing to do under the circumstances. My acting as a zombie slayer days were over. I was going to be one. 

Harry pressed his lips against mine. “Be careful. I’ve got it here.” 

I gave him a weak smile. “Remember, if too many happen to break in, kill the first one you see and put the guts on you. Then mom and Harmony. Mom has a pistol she can use.” 

He nodded and kissed me once more. I rested my hand on the back of his neck, holding him there. I wanted to feel his lips for as long as I could. It could be for the last time.

“I love you,” I whispered. 

He nuzzled his face into my hair. “I love you too.” 

I walked over to my mom and Harmony. I kissed my daughter’s head and looked into her big, very dark blue eyes. “Mommy has to go get you things. See you soon.” I looked at my mom and she had tears brimming her eyes. There was no way she was going to take my place. She didn’t have the agility to sprint or run long distances since her major car accident a few years back; she had to get medical nails in her ankle. 

“Stay safe.” 

I gave her a small smile. “Of course.” 

We left in my dad’s Ford F150 truck. I had my crossbow ready to shoot down any so they wouldn’t get into the garage. Luckily, Harry had the garage shut before any got in. I sat back down and shut my window. 

“How much gas?” I asked. My dad never really kept track of that sort of thing. 

“Three-fourths.”

I nodded. “Okay. Good. That should be good for a couple trips. But remember, we want to get as much as we can in this one trip.”

“I know,” he replied. 

I didn’t say anything else. I looked out the window. It seemed especially gloomy today. The sky was full of grey clouds, casting a white hue over everything. I could see a few moving figures as he drove. It wasn’t a long drive to Target. Only fifteen minutes. But every minute I was preparing myself. 

“Here’s the plan.” My dad turned the truck off. “You go ahead and get everything for Harmony. I’ll get the food. Remember to use the crossbow, and test your theory if possible. Got it?”

I let out a deep breath. “Yeah.” I reached back for the two duffels. I strapped one across my chest. This should be fun. 

It was dead silent as we walked into the dim lighted Target; must be barely powered by a generator. The glass of the doors had been shattered, so our boots crunched on the pieces. I mentally cursed. Here’s hoping that sound wouldn’t provoke any zombies that could be nearby. 

I wish the baby supplies weren’t set in the back part of the entire store. If I do run into a zombie, testing my theory would be the first thing I do. I made sure the walkie-talkie was still harnessed onto one of the loops.

“See you soon,” he whispered, splitting off, and left me alone. Nichole, don’t let your fear take over. You can protect yourself. Doing this for Harmony and Harry. 

I went for the smaller stuff first-- onesies, socks, shoes, blankets, pacifiers, baby wipes, toys. I wasn’t entirely positive what she all needs right now. I was just glad we didn’t need to get a crib; my parents had one for when John and Ellise visited. Oh God. I hope they’re okay. And Leo! He was no longer in Iowa as well. I didn’t want to think the worst but I already was considering we hadn’t heard from them at all. The satellite towers went out yesterday. It wouldn’t be long until our power was out I assumed, so we should grab extra batteries and candles. 

I zipped the duffel shut to make sure everything was secured. Next, I grabbed my last item, which would be the biggest and wouldn’t fit in the duffel. I held my crossbow up, ready to aim and shoot. I made fast and quiet movements to where the diapers were. My blood stopped cold hearing a shuffling sound. 

I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. I turned around to see a guy who couldn’t be much older than me standing there. He was eyeing me good. His icy blue veins popped out all over the place. He growled at me. 

Despite my previous fear towards zombies, I couldn’t help a smirk. “Want me?” 

His eyes grew even more wide as he overlooked me more. I held my crossbow up and aimed for the middle of his head. Closing one eye to get better radar. There was another screeching sound.

Fuck. 

I pulled the trigger, watching the arrow fly and sink into the guy’s head. I tripped my way over to him, pierced it in even more just to be sure before yanking it out. I reloaded the crossbow with the same arrow and frantically rolled onto my back to aim. She was right above me. I could see the brain matter still attached to the cold metal and without a second though, I glided my fingers over it. The gooey sensation was not pleasant when it hit me. The smell wasn’t either as I wiped it onto my face; it was like expired dairy and throw up all in one. Gross as hell but worth it as I saw the skinny lady sniff the air, confused. She looked displeased when she couldn’t smell what she did before.

Slowly, I sidestepped around her and then bolted to find my dad. I grabbed the walkie-talkie. 

“Dad? Do you copy?” 

I didn’t get an answer then I could hear some cries and yells. Oh no. 

I sprinted the fastest I had ever in my life, looking down every aisle of food. Finally, I found him in the bread. Four or five zombies were going at him. It didn’t matter how it happened, I needed to do something. 

I held my crossbow up, aiming for one as I stalked towards them. I pulled the trigger and didn’t wait. I reloaded with another and aimed once again. I took down another. Now, just two were left. My dad still fought with the one holding onto his coat. So, I took down the other trying to help her boyfriend on their date. 

My dad smashed the zombie’s head into the shelf a couple times and his body fell limp. I reached my hand out and he gladly took it.

“The guts thing works?” he panted. I noted the scratch on his face and hoped that the virus didn’t transfer that way.

I nodded. “Yeah. Killed one over by the baby stuff.”

“I told you could get good with the bow.” He cheesed, picking up his shotgun and duffle. 

I rolled my eyes. “You got everything?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Okay, I still need diapers. We should also get candles and toilet paper if there’s any left. Let’s grab em and get out of here.” 

“Don’t forget Gander.” 

Right…

***

I used a different walkie-talkie to contact Harry when we were back in the driveway. “Hey, we’re back. Open the garage.” 

“Okay,” he replied briefly.

The garage door opened and my dad pulled in. Harry was quick to get it closing. Once it was shut and we were in the clear, we carried everything inside. We grabbed like ten boxes of diapers. Each carried five out. Didn’t have to worry about zombies attacking us since we didn’t smell like food.

I went to kiss Harry, but he stepped back. “Please clean up first.” 

I smiled slyly before I grabbed his face and rubbed his cheek against mine. Nothing was going to transfer since it was dry. 

“Thank you so much, Nikki,” Harry retorted, dramatically wiping his face. He was definitely pleased to see no crud on his fingers. 

“You’re welcome.”

Next and final: 5

[Masterlist]

[loverofyaoi22]

Erin was terrified as she sat there before three measly, greasy looking hunters. Wing hunters that is. Wing hunters went around capturing any fairy they could get their hands on and ripping their wings out which they would later sell on the black market for loads of money.

It was a painful process that would either kill the fairy or would leave them forever unable to fly. The psychological affects of ripping a fairies wings out were devastating. When a fairy had their wings ripped out, it took away a fairy’s freedom to fly and enjoy the skies. Wings also changed form and shape as they grew which helped with magic development. When wings were ripped out it could lead to server depression, feelings of alienation and a slow descent into madness. Fairies needed to fly. Without it the crave to fly and be free would slowly drive the fairy insane as it took over.

That usually lead to death by suicide sadly or the fairy would slowly shut down as wings helped show emotions. They’d flutter when happy, droop when sad, be displayed when angry or challenging someone, etc. Fairies needed them and Erin had seen too many fairies die at the hands of greedy monsters like these! Erin herself was a fairy but she had hidden her wings from view because of the rumours of wing hunters within the local area.

"What a cute looking fairy, i bet your wings are gorgeous." One of the humans laughed darkly as he used his hand to lift her face up to meet his eyes. Erin glared at him, fear deep within her eyes. “Your wings will be the most gorgeous ones ever sold. Tales of gold and silver with hanging jewels off of the tips unlike normal fairies. The blood said to sparkle as the wings are pulled from the body and they twitch. God, I can’t wait to cut your wings off!” He laughed, eyes holding a psychotic and greedy glint. Such a disgusting human; with such a vice covered soul she was surprised he hadn’t been killed by his greed.

“Go fuck yourself! You won't have my wings." She growled angrily, shuffling about even though she had been bound up by rope, keeping her arms bound to her torso. Her ankles and wrists were bound together by made draining chain and her body was bound by strong rope that rendered her immobile. The guy chuckled and laughed, bringing tears to murky eyes. The guy was around the age of 26 with long greasy blonde hair and dark blue eyes. The man had been spoiled his entire life by rich parents -that was easy to see by the way he acted and dressed - and whenever he didn’t get his way would make sure the person suffered.

What a disgusting human being!

He wore a long sleeved white top with a blue waist coat overtop that had gold chains hanging out the pockets. His black leather pants were clean and were very pristine, showing he took care of them and prided himself with that. A good leader always keeps themself clean and presentable even when doing dirty work. The leather was that of top quality and was not cheap by any means. "Oh but Fairy Queen, your wings are the best out there. That is, unless you want us to rip the wings out of all your people. We’ll tie you up and force you to watch as we cut out the wings of every man, woman and child in your stupid kingdom!” He threatened, pulling her hair causing her to look at him.

Erin had to laugh. This mere human thought he could get past her kingdoms protection barrier?! Fuck no! Not even a boss monster could! Only she could break the barrier! “Hahahaha! Good luck you pathetic human! You can’t even make a scratch on that barrier. You wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near my people!” She snarled. The human man clearly didn’t like this back chat and got in her face.

“Oh really?!” He shouted. “And how would a slut like you know?! Humans are stronger than monsters!” He screamed, face red with anger. “I’m not a full monster!” Erin growled back and spat in his face. He didn’t like that and grabbed his knife from the holster on his belt. He grabbed it and began cutting down her face and eye with the blade. It caused her to scream in pain; crying and shaking.

She just wanted to go home! That’s all she wanted!

Erin's screams and the humans maniacal laughter echoed out into the surrounding foliage making Error stiffen. He could smell blood and fear and hear the sounds of sobs and skin opening. Looks like he had new powerful senses. He looked around wildly, his senses on overdrive.

The person was in pain, whoever it was and they were clearly not alone if the dark laughing indicated anything. His slit eye-lights were looking around and scanning for any indication to show where the screams and laughs were coming from.'its ok, i will find you! I’ll stop your pain! I won’t let you suffer like I did!' He thought in desperation. He didn't want someone to be hurt like him, someone becoming so broken it left them questioning as to why.

Null looked up at his daddy, wondering why he looked so frantic. Another pain filled scream sounded out making him whimper and curl closer to his daddy's chest. His tail curled around his legs as his ears went down. The screams sounded so sad and like his when he begged them to stop, when they hurt him with their needles. "Daddy, please stop those screams. They're hurt! Stop them like you stopped him." Null whimpered out, clutching onto the others ribs.

Error didn't have a chance to put his top on when he jumped into the void from the other multiverse so all he was wearing was his shorts and trainers with his makeshift, blood soaked bandages on his ribs which had stopped bleeding and dusting but he had to be careful as to not reopen his wounds again. "I WiLl nUlL, i WiLl sToP tHeIr sCrEaMs AnD tHe OnE cAuSiNg ThEm." Error promised. Closing his eyes, he decided to use his enhanced sense of smell to find the direction on which the screams came from.

The smell of flowers blended in with the smell of firewood, alcohol, tears and blood?! Shit, this was worse than he thought! ‘North west!’ He thought in shock, eyes snapping open.

The green plants and trees looked all the same to him so he didn't know as to where he was and how far away he was from the nearest town, but the place was beautiful and the perfect temperature. The forest called to him and his senses, making him feel somewhat alive. His nose caught wind of a floral scent with a hint of the sea. It was coming north west from then and the smell of blood clearly indicated the person was hurt.

He narrowed his eyes and growled, showing huge fangs as his lip was brought back in a vicious snarl. It seemed no matter where he went, someone innocent was getting hurt for no reason and it angered him. He didn't want anyone turning out like him, being broken beyond hope, being unable to be put together again.

His bones broke, his soul rejecting itself and ripping itself apart to please someone else who would never be pleased or satisfied. "BoYs hAnG oNtO mE, AlRiGhT?" Error said as he took off running. As he began running, he used all his body weight to give himself a boost which left a huge hole in the dirt.

Null giggled as his daddy ran, his movements jostling him and his brother in his tight grip as he held onto his fathers rib. This the most fun he’d ever had! He didn’t want it to stop! The scents and colours blurred together as they moved, making everything go by quickly.

"Fun, fun!" Null laughed happily, his tail swishing happily. Void giggled too and shrieked with laughter. "Ahwoo~ ahh! Hahaha!" He cooed out. It made no sense at all but he was happy and to Null that's all that mattered. He held his little brother’s tiny hand and smiled. “See? Daddy is very awesome!” voids little giggles were his answer.

Error panted as he ran, wincing as some wounds reopened at his harsh movements and began to bleed again. 'Please hang on just a little longer, I'm on my way!' He thought frantically. He wasn't going to let someone else get hurt if he could prevent it.

Erin hit the deck, her voice raw; face wet and sticky with tears and blood.

Her left eye ached and so did her cheek and eyebrow from the two large gashes cut into her eye and skin. She was glad she had super regenerative abilities as the fairy queen so she could fix her eye but she’d have scars. She ached all over, her muscles burned and the new cuts throbbed as they bled. Her left eye was shut even more tightly as a cut on her hairline bled and blood poured down the left side of her face.

"Fuck you!" She sobbed out, bruises forming on her cheek and staining the pale skin dark purple. She spat out some blood onto the others clothes, making him frown in displeasure. "Bitch." He hissed and used his foot to turn her onto her back and began kicking her stomach. Erin groaned and moaned in pain at every painful blow. More tears fell. All she felt was pain! ‘I don’t want this! I can’t protect myself and it hurts!’ She thought.

Bruises littered her arms and legs as well as bleeding cuts that were filled with the mud from the forests floor. Dirt stained her blue top and brown skirt. Her clothes were torn from the beating and covered in blood. The guys workers laughed as they sat on a rotting log nearby and drunk some whisky from their titanium flasks. Her wings would win them a fortune!

Their black and brown guard dogs sat by with red collars on, gold spikes sticking out as well as collars. They barked angrily, saliva going everywhere. "You get her boss." One laughed. He was a convicted sex offender and domestic abuser. He was a wanted man but with his boss’ help and constant moving around he was never caught.

He wore a black trench coat with silver seams and chains on the pockets with a brown top and grey jeans that were accompanied by scuffed black boots. His brown eyes was hazed by alcohol and his brown hair was swept back. His brother sat beside him, wearing a long sleeved button up t-shirt whose sleeves were pushed up to the elbow and some blue pants with brown shoes. His brother was a wanted man for murder and rape of a young child. He was truly disgusting. Their breaths reeked of alcohol and it made Erin feel sick.

Her body felt overloaded and her thoughts raced as did her soul. ‘Please, someone save me! I don’t want to die! My kingdom will be unprotected and Claudia..my friends...I can’t leave them!’ She thought as kicks kept going and screamed as a rib broke. ‘Claudia, help me! I’m scared!’ She thought with desperation.

The boss -who went by the name Terry- finished kicking her and kicking her onto her right side, making her face away from them. Erin coughed up blood and vomit, whimpering. All she had to do was go to the market to do some shopping, but her basket was lying in the bushes as they were ripped from her hands by the three assholes above her. "Show us your wings Fairy Queen." Terry hissed, smirking.

If he got the Fairy Queen's wings he could make a goddamn fortune selling them on the black market. He would be rich and he would be able to live in a grande Villa in the south of Snowdin. Erin sniffled and used her bound hands that were rubbed raw and bleeding due to the magic draining chains to sit up and glared. "Go to hell. I won’t show you my wings!” She hissed as tears flowed and blood dribbled down swollen and purple cheeks. She would never show a mere human who wanted to steal her wings what he wanted!

Terry grew angry and pulled out the dagger from his back pocket holster again. It was a fine blade of steel around 6 inches long and with a gold handle that was said to have been crafted by a local blacksmith within Snowdin's capital. "I will kill you!" He shouted as he lifted the dagger up

Erin closed her eyes and sobbed silently waiting for the final blow but all she heard was a scream of "what the hell?!"

Confused, she snapped opened her eyes and gasped. A tall glitchy skeleton with midnight bones stood before her in a crouched position, growling. His ears were pulled backwards, his six ombré tails swishing angrily as he guarded her. 'A...kitsune?' She thought in shock. For a second there, she thought she was going to die at the hands of greedy humans but it seemed that a demon fox skeleton had heard her cries for help.

Tears of pain turned into tears of relief. She wasn’t gonna die! She was safe!

Error stood before the tied up girl, fury coursing through his veins. They had tried to kill an innocent person for no reason, after tying her up and beating her to the point her skin was black and blue with multiple cuts. He came across the sight, panting and his bones creaking. Null watched the mean humans cut and kick their captive and he whimpered, burying his face in his fathers chest.

It hurt to watch!

Ir reminded him of the scientists who experimented on him. "Daddy, their mean." He whimpered. Error growled, his lips moving back in a snarl. Putting Null on the floor, he petted the younger kitsune.

"StAy HeRe nO mAtTeR wHaT. LoOk AfTeR VoId fOr mE." His daddy said before rushing off. Null hid within the bush, Void cooing and looking around; touching the leaves and flowers. 'Daddy can do it. If anyone could help her its daddy. Daddy is safe after all.' He thought.

‘You disgusting bastard! People like you should be burning in hell!!’ He thought in absolute fury. His marrow boiled. They hurt a mere child!

When Terry tried to go and stab her, Error kicked the human on his ass, snarling and crouching in a fighting position in front of the girl. The girl was bleeding and bruised to no end. He growled and snapped his head in the direction of the dogs who walked over to protect their masters.

The dogs growled and barked roughly but he roared loudly causing the dogs to whimper and their ears to go down, tails between their legs and lay their heads on their paws.

A sign of submission.

He turned to the human who scrambled back. "What the hell?! A kitsune?! What the fuck, i thought they were endangered!" He said in fear, his face ashen pale and sweating buckets. Kitsunes were rare and were hunted to pretty much extinction by humans for their fur which was not only used for rope making, clothes making and that, it made good medicine too.

His two goons pissed themselves from fear and screamed as thinly slit eye lights turned to them and big fangs snapped at them. "You're on your own!" One brother screamed and ran off into the surrounding foliage, his brother following as well as their dogs following him. They weren’t dying today!

"Hey, don't leave me you cowards!" Terry screamed in fear. This kitsune was angry, the feral eyes and growling as well as body position showing its fury and will to pounce. “You sick bastard!” Error screeched furiously and punched in him. He pinned the fucker down and proceeded to gut the guy with his razor sharp claws.

It was relatively easy as cutting into his abdomen was like a knife through butter. It was soft and fleshy, not a lot of resistance to his claws. As claws cut deeper and deeper past muscles, fat and tissue, blood spilled onto the ground. Terry screamed in agony and blood ran out his mouth making his screams gargled.

“Stop, please stop!! Stop, stop, stop, stop!! I’ll do anything just please stop have mercy!! Please have mercy! I beg of you!” He sobbed out. Error stopped and for a moment they locked eyes with eachother. Erin watched in shock as the Kitsune snickered and laughed with a static filled voice. “You don’t deserve mercy and whilst I’m merciful to people, I am not to you!” He growled and began cutting again. Soon he was at the intestines, ignoring the others screams. He pulled the intestines out and threw them aside staining the floor, plants and his hands with blood.

He continued to cut out and remove organs one by one, showing the organs to Terry before throwing them aside qirhna sick splat. Terry watched in pain and horror at his own organs and screeched as bones were also broken. Error laughed darkly. No he would feel the pain he inflicted on others! Soon screams fell silent and Terry was dead; chest cavity wide open and empty. The other hissed, standing tall and glaring down at him.

How pitiful. In the end he was nothing but a coward.

Error sighed. Humans truly were greedy and horrible; hurting an innocent person for no reason or for money. He would never get humans and their ways of life or thinking. Turning to the girl, he chuckled at her awed and slightly horrified look. Sure he was merciful and didn’t like being beaten or killing innocent people and their homes but people like him? He loved killing them slowly and inhumanely so they could suffer!

He would say the girl was around the age of 16 to 17 with long brown hair tipped blue that cascaded down her shoulders to her hips and blue eyes holding confusion and slight horror.

Dried blood caked her face and bruises littered her skin. Her cheeks were swollen and her left eye was not only badly cut up but swollen shut. From the tears in her clothes, he could see her stomach was a dark purple. The cuts had started to clot and he frowned. "YoU oKaY kId? YoU’Re bAdLy hUrT." He asked her as he bent down and began to cut the rope binding her. He got a good look at her clothes. She wore a button up, pale blue top that's sleeves ended at her elbows and a long brown skirt. The clothes were torn in places and stained with mud as well as blood.

Erin nodded. "I am fine. Thank you so much for saving me." She said with a wince and small smile as the chains came free. She was not telling the full truth. She wanted to cry, to scream and be at home safe but with how she was, she couldn’t be. She needed to heal. She rubbed her wrists and smiled up at the kitsune. She finally took in his appearance.

He was around 6”10 and he was wounded; badly. His skull was covered in tons of cracks and scars that made his skull look fragile and ready to cave in from the slightest touch. His ribs were broken or had healed wrong in many places; some being held together by blood-soaked make shift bandages. His spine was scratched to shit and she was surprised he could walk. She couldn't see his hips or his thighs but she could guess they were also covered in cracks and scars. His legs and feet were also covered in multiple cuts and scars, including his toes.

Wow, and she thought her wounds were bad.

She frowned at how someone could be so hurt and look as if it didn't bother him. She had seen grown men like him scream at broken bones before, so how this monster wasn't screaming in agony was beyond her comprehension.

His eye sockets were red and his left eye light was white whilst the right was yellow with a blue ring and pupil. He had blue lines on his face, showing he had cried so much he had been branded by it. His skull was black as was the palms of his hands but the rest of his bones were red.

The dark red areas signified defied blood or bruising which was so server, he shouldn't be able to move let alone be standing proudly above her. Her heart broke knowing that he had been hurt, abused even, by someone so much he had been branded by his tears of pain and he was no longer bothered by the pain; clearly he had gone though worse times.

His ears were black tipped navy blue and filled with red fur. His tails were the same bar the red. He glitched and had 'ERROR" signs all over her. The skeleton kitsune smiled and sat down cross legged before her. "ThAts GoOd. NuLl, VoId, yOu tWo cAn cOmE oUt nOw." He said, his Deep and glitchy voice startling her a bit but not much.

Null and void came out.

Erin smiled as the tiny kitsunes went over to their father and crawled into his lap. They were both small, one clearly under the age of one and the other just under age 4 and a half. They had white bones and didn't glitch like their father, leading Erin to believe he had adopted the pair. They had white furry ears and tails but the oldest had his tipped blue and the baby tipped pastel orange.

Both wore high end, silk dresses even though they were male, not that she cared. She had a male friend back home whom could pull off dresses perfectly. "You saved her daddy! Daddy good man!” Null squealed happily, Void cooing and clapping his tiny hands. Erin smiled.

"I'm Erin, I'm the fairy Queen." Erin said standing up only to hit the deck again. Everything hurt so bad!

Error helped her up gently. “Kid, you’re very badly wounded you shouldn’t be moving around as it could hurt you even further.” He said with a serious but soft tone. Erin chuckled. “I’m fine sir. As the fairy queen I have certain healing and regenerative abilities.” She watched the others eyes widen slightly at that. "I know I don't look like much but its because of my magic. Its nice to meet you and your kits." Erin said offering a hand.

Error started at her hand but took it and shook it gently. "HeLlo ErIn, I'm ErRoR aNd tHeSe aRe my SoNs NuLl aNd VoId." He said.

Null waved at her, smiling. Erin waved back. "Its my pleasure. Sorry about those assholes -never use those words boys, they're bad- are wing hunters." Erin said as she went over to a nearby bush and decided to pick her basket out from within the leaves. She ignored the organs nearby. It was a simple basket that Erin was glad wasn't damaged.

Error didn't like the sound of that. "Wing hunter, someone who pulls the wings from creatures and sells them for money and profit." He said in disgust. He didn't like them, he had seen them in pervious AU's where the inhabitants had wings such as RebornTale, Angeltale and BirdTale. He loved watching them fly so it angered him when people tried to remove the wings like he was removed from his AU years ago from fate.

"Yeah. They wont do it again thanks to you though." Erin said with a cough of blood as she began to use her magic to heal her wounds. She placed a green glowing hand on the cut on her forehead. It began to knit itself back together until the cut was gone and then did the same to her eye. Once the wind was closed she had two scars and blinked. She could see!

She moved to the bruise, wincing at the pain as it was tender and used it to bring the swelling down and get rid of the internal bleeding. The kicking had torn open and wounded her organs but luckily she could repair them and the ribs that fixed itself with a snap making Error wince.

He knew how that felt.

Once the bruise and swelling had gone down, green flame like magic surrounded her body as she used her healing magic to heal most wounds she had sustained from the beating, especially the one to the stomach which had done the most damage. Pulling her top up, she showed her dark purple stomach. It was badly bruised and super painful. Error winced even more Humans skin wasn't supposed to turn that colour, especially where it housed their vital organs.

"T-That looks painful. Will you be okay kid?" Error asked with concern. Erin nodded as the bruising began to fade as all internal damage was fixed. "Yes i am Error. I am fine." She said with a slight tremble. Everything that happened was starting to take affect.

‘No meltdown, no meltdown, no meltdown!’ She thought. She had autism so things like what just happened could overload her. Error frowned and hugged her which she didn’t expect. Null looked at the glowing flame aura and gasped in awe. "Pretty!" He said making Erin chuckle. "Thank you. It's healing magic." She said letting her top fall.

(I'm no longer doing Error's voice LiKe ThIs.)

“Kid you’re not ok. It’s okay to cry when scared so if you wanna cry, cry.” He said softly and hugged her lightly. She needed it. Erin’s trembles got worse and she began sobbing and hitting her head violently. She didn’t feel safe, she felt exposed and overwhelmed. She hated it! ((Authors note: I have autism as I was diagnosed at age 12. I have violent meltdowns and it isn’t nice at all so I’m going off of my own experiences.))

“Kid no! Don’t hurt yourself.” He said gently holding her hands to stop her from hurting herself. Null hugged her round the waist and Void held her ankle. Poor lady must be scared! ‘Don’t worry! Hugs and kisses makes it all better!’ Null thought kissing her hand and void her leg. Error chuckled. They sure liked making people happy.

Soon the meltdown was over and Erin was exhausted, leaning against Error. “Sorry. I still have so much to do and I just made myself look like an idiot.” She mumbled. Null frowned. “You’re not an idiot ma’am. You’ve been hurt and it’s okay to cry. Daddy saved us from a bad man too. It’s okay to cry.” He said with determination.

Erin chuckled weakly and let his skull. “Such a nice boy. Your daddy taught you well.” She mumbled. Error smiled and decided to change the subject.

"So, you said you were the fairy Queen. I thought fairies were supposed to have wings." Error said in confusion. She had no wings what so ever so how was she the fairy queen? He had seen his fair share of queens before, Toriel was always the queen and was a king ruler but some AU's were the exception. "I am but i can hide my true appearance with magic." Erin said as she finished healing herself and stood up on her own.

She felt weak from the magic use and meltdown but a little bit off food and some sleep would make her feel good a new. She activated her magic again to reveal her wings.

Error watched in awe as a pink aura burst around her form. Her messy hair straightened and became slightly curly at the tips as a forehead crown made of pearls and pink tear drop crystal in the centre formed on her head.

Her clothes changed shape, becoming a light pink, off the shoulders Dress, the skirt becoming slit just below her hips. The front half of the skirt had sewn on dark pink gemstones and blue crystals arranged to make a flower. The gems were also on the back around the sleeves edge that widened near the wrist and at the neck line. She wore a gold corset made of metal that sat above the dress. It looked heavy when in reality, it was charmed to be weightless. It was encrusted with rubies, sapphires and rose quarts.

Erin wore gold ankle cuffs that was also encrusted with gemstones. Her wings opened up, shocking him. They were like three wings in a pair of wings.

The wings had fuchsia outer boarder with blue and gold tips. There was three silver jewels in the centre of the wings and then light pink. She had some blue jewels dangling of the six tips and they sparkled in the sun.

"Now i can see why they call the Fairy Queen." Error said in shock. He had never seen magic so advanced before in someone who wasn't him or Inky so this person was very powerful if they could use their magic to conceal their true appearance and appendages from sight.

He sighed. He could never have a normal friend could he? He looked at her wings and wondered if they were made of living tissue or magic like Skeletons were.

"Its fine, my magic makes it hard for anyone to see my appearance once I conceal it." Erin said, carting her basket. "Error, may I ask, who has hurt you. I can assure you the person who has hurt you will be found and punished, this looks like inhumane torture!" Erin cried out, looking absolutely horrified at his injuries.

"Its a long story, are you sure you want to hear it?" He asked as he stood up; causing his bones to crack and creak from the movement.

Erin shuddered at the sound. It made her anger boil at the fact someone could be so damaged, so broken yet still be in once piece as if it was okay. "I would love to hear it. You can tell it to me as we walk to the market, i am not leaving you without a home after saving my life." She said with determination.

Erins wings began to flutter allowing her to fly right beside him. "Alright. Fate is cruel and has one child who they adore..." And so Error told her off Fate, of Inky, Of how he had been ripped from his AU and forced into a job of destruction, killing people so peoples AU's could grow and how they hated him for a job he had no control over because of an out of control creator.

He watched in shock as Erin again broke down in tears and sobbed at his tail, angrily sobbing about how if she ever met this so called 'creator' she would rip his body into pieces only to put him back together again and let her friends torture him in the most gruesomest way possible until he was begging to death.

Error had never seen someone so angry about his treatment. It happened everyday and he was see to all the fights, the beating, the insults.

She grabbed his hand and looked him in the eyes with determination and sincerity. "I swear to you Error, no one will ever hurt you or your Kits again, or i will personally kill them myself." Erin growled out. Erin was furious. How could people be so ungrateful to a demigod?! A demigod who was forced and who was broken in both mind, soul and body?

Error would admit he drowned in fates strings, struggled to keep everyone alive.

He hated the pain, he hated that no one could see the truth and blindly followed the one who would lead to their death but when no one knew the truth he didn't blame them. Sure everything hurt -he screamed, begged, bones breaking and blood pouring whilst his soul broke and was reattached itself- he admitted he learnt thing they didn't know.

He checked her quickly. The last of her family, an autistic child and queen of a huge kingdom. She had many friends and a fiancé. She was powerful with over 1,800 in attack and 1,500 in deference. Her soul trait was SINCERITY so her soul was turquoise. What an Interesting character.

“But I’m used to it. I’m broken and chocking on Fates strings. Fate likes one and I am not that one. There is nothing you can do and even if you could, you have over millions of Sanses to fight.” He said as he followed her.

Erin narrowed her eye that flashed turquoise for a second before returning to blue again "Those so called Judges seem very blind in their judgement if you ask me." Erin said as they walked into Snowdin's Market place. There were shops and stalls for miles; each stall filled with food, clothes, meat, medicine and other things people would be interested in buying.

Clothes were lined on racks, giving colour to all the bleak grey walls. Baskets were surrounded stalls that were set out with things Error had never seen.

Null watched the stalls and looked around at the people who crowded the streets. The sun beamed down from the sunny sky and warmed his bones and fur up.

The chatter and laughter of the crowd made the atmosphere light and fluffy. He didn't notice his daddy's confused face at the beautiful fairy's words but he enjoyed the smell of the cooking meat that permeated from the cooking stalls.

"Daddy, I'm hungry." He pouted as his stomach grumbled, Void even beginning to cry as his little tummy rubbed too. Error frowned and rocked the pair of them, even though he was concerned. They had no money and he couldn't leave his sons to steal anything in such a populated area. It would be a disaster!

Guards would run after them and people would have to move aside and try and catch them and there was NO WAY in hell he’d let them go for his children. They’d have to get through him first! “I’m so so sorry little ones. I do not have the backpack on me so all food is as Toriel. I’m sorry but you’ll have to wait till I can find us some shelter and get you some food.” He said with sadly.

Erin frowned as Void cried and Null whimpered In hunger. "May i?" She asked.

Error turned to her apprehensively and frowned. "Only if you explain what you meant earlier." He said. He was confused as to what she meant that their judgement was blind. Erin nodded and took Void from his arms. "Shh, shh, its okay. We'll get you something to eat." She cooed, rocking and nuzzling the small baby kitsune.

Void's cries slowly came to a stop and she smiled; wiping his orange tears away. "There we go, happy baby." She giggled.

Turning to Error, she flew beside him as he walked into the crowd. "I meant that they are blind to their own misdoings. They see their actions as good and only good, not considering their own actions immoral and wrong. They cant see that what they have done had lead to you having great pain and suffering. They are also blind lapdogs I guess you could say. This Dream sounds like a love sick puppy with his tail between his legs.

If they believe one persons words and not bothering to exhaust all options before violence; if they don't see the reasons behind someone's action and someone history, and just go straight ahead into violence, then they are the idiots and the ones who should take a step back and think 'Whoa, hold on a minute, is what this person saying the and do i know what he is telling me is true? What do i know about this person? Do i know their reasons behind their actions, do i know what they've been though?' If not, then they're blind and easily lead." Erin explained, angrily, not caring when Void grabbed her hair and began chewing on it.

Error stared At her and couldn't believe it. He had never thought of it that way. He could see where she was coming from and what she meant.

In ways, the sanses and papyruses were blind to everything, only taking Ink's words and falling upon their own knowledge. They knew nothing about him, about Nightmare's gang or the Chara's. They only knew what Ink told them but never decided to find out their reasoning behind their actions and their history; what they went through.

"I never thought of it that way. Like I said, i could only do so much without Ink having everyone breathing down my neck and beating me to pieces. I could never find time to do anything and when i could find time, I would spend time in the Antivoid watching Undernovela, making puppets and clothes or hanging out with Nightmare's gang and the Chara's." Error said as he looked at the crowd. They watched him in horror, whispering about his wounds and promises of pain to the one who hurt him.

Other bowed as Erin came though as she was the queen. Erin nodded, handing Void back to his father. "Understandable. They will pay for it. Anyway, as you're here you can relax and no longer have to destroy." She said as she began to buy what she needed. She brought bags of vegetables and fruits as well as packaged meat.

Medicine was a must, she brought loads of it and she got things such as bread, butter, potions and baby food for Void. Error was in shock that a tiny basket could hold so much but Erin divulged that there was a spell on it so some of it was teleported to her palace.

Erin explained how she lived in the palace her parents left behind when they died with her friends who he would meet when he went home with her as she wanted him to have an actual home. Error didn't understand why she was determined to help him as he was used to the pain and he would heal overtime after all, once he had been pulled into tiny individual pieces and he just went back together again but she was having none of it. He sighed.

Null smiled as Erin handed him a small basket of freshly baked chocolate cookies.

“Thank you!" He said happily as he took one and bit into it. It was soft and the chocolate melted in his mouth making him moan happily at the taste. She was nice and lot more friendly then the others they had run into. He liked her. "You're welcome Null." Erin said happily and gave Error a bottle of formula to Error.

"Thank you Erin." He said as he put the nipple of the bottle in Voids mouth and the small infant began to suck the formula down like no tomorrow.

Null munched on the cookies as Erin went over to her last stop. Error watched as she approached an elderly man whose long grey hair was pulled back in a bun. He wore a dark blue shirt and grey shorts with black shoes. She said something in a language he didn't understand and he watched as the man pulled a piece of clothing off the rack and gave it to her. Smiling, Erin paid him and turned to him.

"We can go now." She said, going in the opposite way they came in from. Error followed, ignoring the rest of the people. "Also, you need to start eating again." Error looks at her, eye brow raised. "Why?! I have no need for eat, i cant die! I can survive without it." He said. Error would never understand eating. "I know but it will make you sick. Not eating means your kitsune mana reserves will deplete severely and make you very weak and sick." Erin said seriously. "OH."

[eleventybiillion]

Dating

Remember when I said I was gonna get real personal? Yeah, it's happening right the fuck now. I signed up for a dating site. A few weeks ago. I may have been really drunk when I did it and my status with my ex was, uh. Questionable. I also may be really drunk right now as I write this. Which just means no filter, so have fun.

So now I'm dating. For real. That kind of dating you're supposed to do in your early 20s when you're not still dating that One Guy you've had an on-and-off thing with since your freshman year of high school. And I wish I could say I'm enjoying it, but the truth is, it's flaring up some of the worst anxieties I have about myself and the pain I've experienced from past relationships.

Since I was maybe 12, I've been putting myself down, relying on self-deprecating humor to brand myself as "the funny one" in all my friend groups because I felt that was the only thing I had to offer. And even then, I often felt so painfully unfunny that I just wanted to remove myself from everyone around me because I had no redeemable qualities.

This view of myself carried over into every aspect of my life. Especially relationships. It was a big deal when I decided to open up and be vulnerable to someone. Because I'd carried this notion that I wasn't worthy of anyone's time, affection, attention, or love for a significant chunk of my life.

The first person I ever opened up to completely was my ex, Duncan. We met in middle school, started dating in high school, and ended up in an on-and-off thing for almost ten years. He was (and still is) my best friend. But things happened, we broke up, and he ended up killing my trust in him by sleeping with someone shortly after we broke up. Mind you, we had broken up with the notion we might get back together in the future, once we learned to better ourselves to better our relationship. We had also been together for a seven-year stretch. He insisted we stay apart but kept me close as an emotional crutch. Maybe I'm crazy for getting so upset, but I was. I was devastated. This was the guy I fell in love with in high school and stayed with through my mid-20s. We went through so much together and all of that felt absolutely negated the second I got the text saying "yes, I'm fucking her, is that what you want to hear?" I don't remember ever saying this, but he told me that I said, "As long as she's in your life, I won't be."

Then there was Josh. I met him online and I developed feelings that I hadn't felt for a long time. It was one of those friendships that was easy and fun. I was into him. And, surprising to me, he was into me. We'd flirted with the idea of meeting in person. I naively thought that this might be a real thing. But later on, after receiving some upsetting news, he began to spiral downwards into alcohol and apathy. I tried to be there for him, but was always met with hostility. Finally, after months of a painful balancing act of offering support and giving him space, I asked if he wanted me to leave him alone. The response I got was, "Bye." I haven't spoken to him since. I don't know where or how he is, but he often crosses my mind and I worry. I cared so much for him and I worry that he's no longer here, and that I may have been able to prevent that if I had just handled things differently.

The last person I tried to be as real as possible with was Brooke. Again, another person I met online. I'm not afraid to say that I honestly fell in love with her. She was my best friend and we shared everything with each other. I felt comfortable enough with her to detail some of the worst parts of myself. My struggles with bipolar disorder and depression, my suicidal thoughts, my horrific bouts of self-harm. She listened with sympathy, and I had that same recurring thought that I now despise. "This might be a real thing." When I confessed my feelings for her, I was met with silence. Months later (I'm not even kidding. It was fucking months later), she acknowledged these feelings, and made sure to drill into me that she valued our friendship. But she did so in a way that made me hopeful that it might become something more. Like she was perpetually on that cusp of something more.

But later on, she made sure to tell me all about her new best friend. And how they just clicked and everything was perfect and she was so much fun and they had so much fun together. I'm not ashamed to admit that this ignited some jealous feelings in me. What did this new girl have that I didn't? Why was she dropping me in favor of someone else? Several times, she often called me by this new girl's name. And when I would get upset, she made me feel guilty. Like I was overreacting. And for a long time, I believed I was.

It wasn't until I showed some of our conversations to my two best friends, just to get their advice on what the fuck I was supposed to say to her, that they simply said, "Yeah, she's literally emotionally abusing you." I was completely blind to it. Here I was, totally in love with this girl, willing to put up with everything she said and did to me, simply because there was always this glimmer of hope that we might get together and we might be happy.

It took those two friends (Quinn and Charlie, I credit y'all for getting me out of this toxic relationship) to make me realize all the little things she did to keep me on her hook. Acknowledging my feelings but refusing to give a definitive answer about her own. Making me feel guilty about getting upset about her treatment of me. Getting mad at me for having sex with men (even though she never mentioned this when I told her about said men) and saying she was in agony hearing me talk about them. Ignoring me for days or even weeks when I called her out on the things she did that hurt me, then coming back to our conversations like nothing ever happened. Buying me gifts to "make amends" and repair the damages she caused.

Finally, I cut ties. I couldn't deal with her anymore. A year and a half later, having no contact with her, I found out that she began spreading rumors that I would threaten to hurt and/or kill myself if I felt I wasn't getting enough attention from her. Anyone who knows me knows I would never do that. And here she was, using such an intimate and secret piece of myself to paint me as this kind of person. I had let her in to some of the most painful and vulnerable parts of myself and she used it against me. I refuse to ever forgive her for that.

Remember that thing I told Duncan? About me not being in his life as long as that other girl was? Well. Three years after we had been broken up, that other girl was no longer in his life. He called me up out of the blue, and said he was sorry for everything he had done. I was still his best friend, I always had been and I always would be. So he was back in my life. And we were friends. Until we had crossed that threshold into more than friends. Whenever we would visit each other, we would end up sleeping together. It was safe, comfortable, familiar. But there was always that gnawing in the back of my brain that told me what we were doing was wrong. We weren't together, but we were acting like we were. I'd never felt so conflicted in my life, and haven't since.

Finally, I had to have the difficult discussion about our boundaries. I'll never deny that he is probably the person that knows me better than anyone. He is my best friend. But the romantic feelings? They were gone. When I told him, he said he felt relieved. And I was relieved to be able to keep him in my life while simultaneously moving on.

And so now I'm dating. After a few mediocre dates, I found a guy that I'm afraid to admit I actually really like. But those self-defense mechanisms I established in my early teen years stayed strong. Why would anyone actually be interested in me? I better put myself down before he notices these flaws himself.

And worse, those scars from my past relationships seemed to bleed all over again. Who else is he talking to? (Thanks, Duncan.) Is everything going to change overnight? (Thanks, Josh.) What deep, intimate personal detail is he going to take advantage of? (Thanks, Brooke.)

I don't want to be that person. Jealous and anxious and guarded. What's worse, I don't want to get hurt again, which means I feel I can't actually open myself up to the good things that could come from this relationship. He's so thoughtful and sweet and considerate, and yet here I am, wondering what's really going on in his head. Like I can't take anything at face value. There has to be more.

I'd like to break out of this cycle. Where my lack of self worth feeds into these distrustful and suspicious feelings that cause me to put up walls to the point that people feel the need to give up on me because I won't let them get close which directly reinforces my low self worth. I'm terrified to let him in because I'd been so badly burned in the past.

I'm not sure how to end this (extremely long) post other than to say that I'm cautiously optimistic that maybe I can let him in. That I can let him get past the barriers I built around my heart because of those that hurt me in the past. I feel like it's going to take a lot of work on my part, but I'm afraid to admit that it might actually be worth all the effort. As if I didn't learn anything from the past, or maybe I want to believe that this time will be different, but I think this could be a real thing.

[justlightlysedated]

our particles they're burning up because they yearn for each other

Part Two of the Strangeness and Charm Series [1]

for @allthehearteyes and @fraudulentzodiacs 💚💚

***

When Michael gets home it's late and he's understandably on edge.

Andro has been missing for over a day, which wouldn't be weird, but Michael usually knows where they were at all times and something was blocking him.

Michael has been waiting for the other shoe to drop since it became obvious that while Liz had been marked and was now having to deal with the fact that a demon could be coming after her, he couldn't help but feel like something much worse was heading their way.

The feeling gets worse when he notices the shadow sitting on top of his Airstream.

He takes a step closer and the stinging burning sensation shoots up his left hand and he takes a step back immediately shaking his hand out.

“Alex,” he sighs feeling his heart leap in his chest.

Alex snaps his fingers and the lights turn on throwing him and Andro into sharp relief.

Andro is a black lion, lying they’re big furry head on Alex's lap. Alex has one hand in Andro's mane rubbing against the top of their head.

The bad feeling in the pit of Michael's stomach gets even worse as he takes in Alex's appearance.

The sand scuffed uniform, the bloody tear on his left knee, the split along his bottom lip, the cut slashing one of his eyebrows in half, the bleeding purple and green bruise painting the entire left side of his face.

“What happened to you?” Michael asks stepping forward and ignoring the pain in his hand.

Alex watches him evenly and then shrugs. “Hazards of the job.”

Andro growls low in the back of their throat, and Alex pushes them away before he jumps down from the roof, landing just a bit unsteady enough that it makes Michael reach out with his hands to catch him.

He tugs Alex to his feet, and Alex gives him a hesitant smile.

“Thanks.”

Michael takes another step forward left hand clenched into a tight fist.

Alex's smile drops and he watches Michael intently as he moves closer.

“What are you doing?” Alex asks sounding a little distressed as Michael gets closer, but he doesn't move away.

Michael ignores the worry in Alex's eyes and the anxious whining from Andro, and places his fingers gently on the bruised side of Alex's face.

Alex inhales sharply, his eyes fluttering shut.

Michael closes his eyes and concentrates.

He says the spell under his breath and feels it spark along his fingers.

Healing magic is always difficult because everything comes with a price, and the price for this was halving the pain.

The bond formed instantly almost as though it was just waiting for a reason to connect.

Michael felt the presence of the demon as it pushed Alex away as though it were swatting a fly, the protective spell only working in preventing broken bone, but not the way he hits the pavement. Before that his brothers running away. Before that an argument that turns rough. Before that a fight with his father, the sting of a slap, splitting his lip open.

Alex pushes him away breaking the contact immediately and he glares at Michael.

Michael licks his bottom lip and hisses a little when he feels the split running across it.

The bruise on the side of Alex's face isn't gone, but at least he's not bleeding anymore. Michael can feel how tender the left side of his face is and he looks at Alex defiantly.

“Don't you think you're in enough pain because of me?” Alex asks, motioning with his chin at the way that Michael keeps clenching and unclenching his left hand.

Michael clenches his fingers into a tight  fist and looks at Alex. “I don't really care.”

“Well you should,” Alex snaps and moves, darting around Michael to get far away enough that his hand stops spasming.

He looks to Alex who is staring right back.

“I came here because I need your help,” Alex says after a tense silent moment.

That much is obvious, and it's also obvious that coming here wasn't his first choice from the way that Andro moves and forms at his back, still a huge lion prowling behind him as though making sure he doesn't go anywhere.

Michael watches Andro with a furrowed brow and wonders what happened to the animosity from three nights ago.

Alex turns to see what he's looking at and throws Michael a smile and a shrug.

“They saved my life,” he says simply and Andro moves forward and settles down on Alex's side leaning their heavy head on Alex's leg, giving Michael a smug look.

Michael thinks he needs to have words with them later.

He focuses on Alex's previous statement since freaking out about his near miss would be silly since Alex is alive and breathing before him.

“Why do you need my help? Don't you have a whole team at your beck and call?”

Alex exhales roughly, but gives Michael a serious look. “You owe me.”

Michael raises an eyebrow at that.

“I've been chasing this demon down for three nights-”

“Fuck,” Michael interjects dragging his hands through his hair. Hello, consequences.

“-and it's been getting stronger the closer we get to the full moon. I need help to stop it, and Cam is busy dealing with the sudden influx in magical spikes. And there's the little fact that no one is supposed to know that there is possibly a very powerful demon running around because like his sister, your brother couldn't let an Ortecho die-”

“Okay,” Michael says cutting him off. “I'll help.”

Alex stops the restless hand gestures he was making and looks at him.

“What's the plan?” Michael asks flexing his fingers a little.

Alex bites down on his bottom lip and Michael wonders if he had always been this distracted by Alex's mouth or if it was because of the distance, because his immediate thought isn't danger, it's want.

“Well,” Alex starts and Andro starts to growl low in their throat.

Alex sighs.

“I need its essence-” Alex starts defensively.

“No,” Michael says immediately knowing where this was going.

“-to build the trap, Guerin! There's no other way, unless we undo the spell that brought it here in the first place!”

Michael inhales roughly and looks away from Alex pacing restlessly for a few seconds before looking back at him.

Alex is looking at Andros eyebrows furrowed as though he's having a silent conversation with a being made up entirely of shadows and magic and brought to life by Michael's essence.

It says a lot about Michael's feelings for Alex which is a problem for another time.

Alex looks up at him and raises an eyebrow.

“Fine, what's the plan?”

Alex swallows hard. “It marked me.”

He tugs up the right sleeve of his shirt to show Michael the stark black mark on his forearm, several interlocking circles with a black dot right in the middle. It's a perfect match to the mark on Liz's arm.

“But it can't find me if I'm wearing the Talisman.”

Michael exhales roughly and shakes out his left hand.

“That thing is the only thing cloaking your essence,” Michael says slowly. “You're strong, Alex. Even for a Witch Hunter. This demon won't be the only thing we'll attract if you take it off.”

Alex just moves to slide up his left sleeve, and Michael feels something akin to an electric shock when he sees the bracelet, the way the weaved together black and rusty brown strands stand out against Alex's pale skin, how the sigil is pressed down against the vulnerable skin of his wrist.

Michael can also make out a thick scar going directly down from the middle of his forearm to the edge of his palm.

Michael takes a step forward feeling like the bottom of his world dropped out and Alex just lets his hands drop.

“I didn't do that to myself, if that's what you're thinking,” he inhales deeply, and talks fast. “Once the Council heard word that I was invulnerable to spells they thought it would be an asset. When they found out how I'm protected however, it became a problem they were determined to fix.”

He looks at Michael raising his eyebrows and Michael feels known.

He wonders just how much of his life before they met had Alex deduced from the little he said when they were together.

Alex keeps talking before Michael can say anything.

“The point I'm trying to make is that I'll be fine. I got you to protect me.”

He sounds so sure about it that Michael wonders how many times he's had to rely on it to protect him.

Michael vaguely remembers a pain slashing down a straight line in his left arm, weeks after Alex had disappeared, but he had thought it was aftershocks of the curse. The scars along the back of his hand were still tender then.

Michael licks his lips and sighs surrendering to the inevitable.

Alex looks determined to do this, and Michael will help him not only because he's Alex, but also because this mess is partially his to clean up as well.

“If I die,” Michael sighs dramatically and both Alex and Andro glare in his direction. “I’m never speaking to you again.”

Alex gives him a reproachful look, but turns to Andro.

“Now, you need to let me out of the protective circle.”

“What protective circle?” Michael asks feeling confused and alarmed.

Alex throws Michael an incredulous look. “The one surrounding the area. Your Airstream is the center point. It stops right where your truck is parked.”

When Michael doesn't feel any less alarm, Alex sighs.

“You managed to create a familiar, and a pretty powerful one at that, but you don't know anything about them, do you?”

Michael looks away, “Didn't have the books to study it. Andro wanted to be born so I gave them life.”

When he looks back it's to see that Alex is looking at him with soft eyes full of emotions that Michael isn't prepared to be dealing with tonight when Alex is determined to act as bait for a powerful demon.

“Andro made a protective barrier around the place where you feel the safest to make sure that you are always safe. No one who has bad intentions can cross the barrier. It is rather impressive.”

He says the last bit casting his eyes to Andro, but Michael feels a shiver go down his spine at the praise.

“He’s here now and we have a plan,” he says taking a step towards Michael's truck.

Andro gets in his way growling low in their throat.

“I'll be safe. I promise if something happens you have permission to sit on me until I'm all better.”

Michael watches as Andro stares at Alex intensely and then looks to Michael, clearly saying, keep him safe or else.

Yeah, he definitely needs to have a talk with Andro.

Alex starts walking again and this time Andro lets him pass.

Michael follows behind him reaching a hand out to Andros who pushes their head against Michael's knuckles.

Alex stops right by the tailgate and turns eyeing Michael when he stops right as his hand starts tingling.

“Maybe we should get someone else to help-”

“I can do it,” Michael says cutting him off.

Alex sighs, shaking his head, but doesn't protest when Michael moves towards him.

Michael can deal with the pain.

Alex tugs the bundle of necklaces out from beneath the collar of his shirt.

He separates the Manes’ Heirloom Talisman from the rest and looks up inhaling sharply in surprise when he sees how close Michael is.

Michael reaches for the necklace and Alex's hands fall to his sides, swallowing hard.

Michael looks into his eyes right as his fingers graze the medallion.

The pain that shoots through his hand intensifies, feeling like his skin is on fire.

He hisses, and looks away when he sees the guilt flooding Alex's eyes.

He hooks his fingers into the golden chain and bites his lip before he moves to take it off.

He feels it tug slightly and the pain in his hand intensifies until he finally gets it over Alex's head.

There is a sensation like a bubble being popped and then the pain disappears as though it was never even there and all Michael can feel is an overwhelming sense of relief.

He gasps, and the talisman falls to the floor as he drops his hands and cups Alex's face between his trembling fingers.

Alex makes a low noise and leans into the touch, whining low in his throat when Michael drops their foreheads together and slides his nose along Alex's.

“Guerin,” Alex gasps voice trembling. “Is now really the bes-?”

Michael nods his head slightly tilting his chin back and just barely brushing their mouths together.

He hums, and Alex's hands reach for him, fingers clenching into the fabric of his jacket.

“You're right,” Michael says voice low and slow, enjoying the way that Alex trembles in his hold, body yearning to be closer. “I guess I can wait. What's a little bit more time compared to ten years.”

Michael pulls back then and Alex chases after him as though their mouths are magnetized.

It makes Michael smile slow, and sweet, and smug.

Alex moves back a flush working it's way across his cheeks. “You're insufferable.”

Michael's smile widens and he nods his head. “I can't believe you forgot.”

Alex uses his hold on him to push him back rolling his eyes.

Michael grabs onto his wrist and tugs him along making the two of them stumble across the protective circle.

Alex laughs a little shaking his head and tries to tug his hand from Michael's grip but Michael uses the hold to pull him closer.

Alex's gaze goes from amused to trepidation and he watches warily as Michael lifts his hand to his face.

Michael thinks about the first time that he saw Alex how he had looked with his head bowed low over his guitar as he plucked at the strings and pulled out a tune that snaked its way into Michael's subconscious and hasn't left since.

Michael hums it now, low and against the skin of Alex's wrist as he concentrates on the spell.

Alex's hand spasms in Michael's hold and Michael presses a kiss to his wrist the bracelet pressing against his lips before he pulls away.

The bracelet glows gold, the sigil burning bright and it expands like a blanket of golden light that covers Alex like a second layer of skin.

He's still holding on to Alex's wrist when he feels the spell sink into him.

Alex gasps, mouth dropping open as his eyes close and Michael feels how he shudders and how his knees go weak as he stumbles.

Michael drags him close, and Alex's eyes flutter open.

“What was that?” he asks blinking at Michael.

Michael shrugs, a greedy part of him happy that Alex is invulnerable to all spells but Michael’s protective ones. “An additional layer of protection infused by one of my favorite memories of you.”

“Oh,” Alex says dumbly and stares at Michael intently for a second before Andro growls low in the back of their throat and Alex immediately goes tense all over.

Michael looks to Andro who is looking behind behind him and then before he can look to see what they're staring at, Alex is pushing him to the down and to the side toppling them to the floor.

Michael feels the heat of a fire chain swinging dangerously above them as several howls and growls reach his ears.

He exhales roughly and glares at Alex who is looking at him and gives him a sheepish smile when he notices that Michael is watching him.

“And you were just not gonna mention the pack of Hellhounds?”

Alex gives him a grin that makes Michael's mouth dry up and he pushes himself to his feet looking down at him, “It was supposed to be a surprise. A happy late birthday gift.”

Michael lies back on the floor as he hears Andro go on the attack.

“We're gonna die.”

He can feel Alex rolling his eyes.

“Come on, Guerin! I've seen your record. This wouldn't be the first time you go up against a couple of Hellhounds.”

He has a point Michael has to admit. But both times had been with Max and Isobel at his side which always made him stronger.

Michael looks over to respond when Alex moves.

He whirls around, hands reaching beneath his jacket against his back. He tugs out the crossbow and shoots at the Hellhound that had been sneaking up behind him.

The beast growls as it jumps out of the way, hissing as one of the arrows grazes the side of its face. The arrows aren't silver, but they are sharp enough to cause enough damage.

Michael scrambles to his feet as Alex runs the few steps to his truck and climbs up on the side on to the truck bed until his back is pressed to the window of the cab.

The beast shakes its head roaring loud and runs full speed at Alex.

Michael watches as Alex fumbles at his belt and at first he thinks he's going to use the lasso on it, but then he's tugging out a long thin silver sword as though his belt were a sheath.

Michael freezes watching as Alex runs and jumps up on the edge of the tailgate before he's launching himself at the Hellhound.

He swings the blade down and there is a sickening slicing sound and a low unearthly grunt and Alex flips and lands on one knee sword held at an angle in his hands.

The Hellhound falls to his knees and his head starts falling from his neck as he bursts into flames and smoke and ashes.

Michael's so distracted by how incredibly hot that was that he's completely blindsided when one of the other Hellhounds hits him with one large paw, knocking him clear across the empty space towards the Airstream.

Michael huffs, feeling a sting in his pride, but he gets up fast and smiles a little when the beast knocks against the invisible barrier, ripples in grey silver tones visible every time it hits one massive paw against it.

Michael takes decisive steps towards it, reaching a hand out and pushing the beast back as hard as he can. It goes flying, landing nearby where Alex is fighting against two others, sparks of golden light surround him as he ducks and swirls and hits back proof that Michael's spell is in full effect.

He spots Andro chasing after the last one, snapping their jaw against its heels.

Michael inhales and reaches for the heaviest item in the junkyard while the beast going after him gets up.

It's hard but he tugs and smashes a big rusty yellow crane right against it.

The Hellhound dies with a shriek and a ball of flame and ash.

The crane swings alarmingly and Michael barely manages to stop it before it crashes into Alex who had rolled out of the way and rolls back avoiding the crane holding his hands up to block the punch.

Michael pushes the crane to the other side and jumps, propelling himself higher to land against the back of one of the beasts going after Alex, wrapping his arms around its neck and tugging down with all of his weight so that the beast falls to his back.

He darts a look at Alex to see him tugging a thin silver chain from around his neck as he moves back to his feet.

Michael watches him weave out of the way as the beast goes to punch him again and wrap

the thin chain around its wrist before looping the chain around its neck forcing its fist right beneath his throat.

He tugs hard against the chain grunting with the effort, and Michael turns away stepping back as the Hellhound at his feet gets to his feet in one single bound.

He hears a sickening squelch and grunt then the whoosh as the Hellhound dies behind him.

The beast in front of him pulls out a fire chain and swings it against his side. It hits the floor with bright sparks and then it charges at him swinging the chain out first.

Michael ducks out of the way tumbling into a roll and landing on a slide.

“Catch!” he hears Alex yell and immediately feels the cold metal of the chain landing against his hands.

He's distracted minutely by a pained yelp coming from Andro, but he knows that Alex is going after the last Hellhound Andro had been keeping at bay.

The searing heat of the fire chain catches against his arm, and Michael moves fast, flattening himself on the ground before it could do more damage.

He winds his fingers around the delicate feeling chain in his hands and gets to his feet.

He runs around the Hellhound, swinging the chain like a lasso and over his head before he throws it and makes sure it lands wrapped around the Hellhounds neck.

He turns, pulling the chain from over his shoulder hard.

It gives way so easily that Michael stumbles forward as the beast grunts and dies.

He looks up in time to see Alex stumbling from the last Hellhound as it falls to its knees and dies landing wrong on his feet.

Michael catches him, reaching with his hands as soon as he's close and letting him go so that he braces him with his body.

Alex is smiling as he grabs onto Michael's shoulders.

He looks at him, eyes bright, a wide smile on his face, breathing heavily, and sweat plastering his hair to his forehead with blood staining one corner of his mouth and Michael wants to kiss him so badly that he's moving in before he can think too hard about it.

Michael fits his hands to Alex's jaw and Alex gasps and moves into the touch, fingers clenching on Michael's shoulders.

Before Michael can press their mouths together, Alex jerks in his hold.

His right hand is torn away from Michael's shoulder with enough force that it swirls him around.

“Alex,” Michael says.

“Fuck,” Alex breathes at the same time.

His right arm is in the air in front of him but his eyes are staring off into the distance.

Michael looks over and can just barely make the smoky dark outlines of a large demon.

Fuck is right.

“Why didn't you say it was that big?” Michael asks feeling like he may be out of his depth.

Fighting Hellhounds was one thing, going up against a demon that looked to be at least twenty feet tall and was powerful enough that it had taken complete control over Alex from over several hundreds of feet away was a total other thing.

“It wasn't,” Alex hisses clenching his teeth hard as he gets dragged several feet forward.

“I fucking hate demons,” Michael says and wraps his arms around Alex's waist only to be dragged along with him as well.

Alex laughs a little hysterically.

“And the plan?” Michael asks reaching out with one hand behind him and closes his eyes and concentrates grabbing onto the pipes buried deep in the ground. Alex wraps his left hand around the hand Michael still has on his waist and when the demon tugs again they dig their feet into the ground and pull back.

There is a loud groaning noise from beneath them as the ground starts to shake.

Alex screams out in pain loud and piercing and it tears something inside of Michael.

He yells and the ground shakes harder and then there is a snap and they go flying backwards.

Michael pushes himself to sitting position and looks for Alex who is dragging himself to stand.

He has his right arm curled to his chest.

“So that wasn't part of the plan?” Michael asks and gets to his feet, reaching to help Alex.

Alex swallows hard and looks over to where the demon seems to be waiting for them to make another move.

“It wasn't able to control me before. Something happened. It's gotten stronger.”

Michael nods his head, “Okay, plan B then.”

Alex throws him a confused look, but Michael is already moving.

He grabs on to Alex and runs towards his truck.

Andro appears then still a lion running alongside them so that Alex is in between them both.

They were just about to cross when Alex stops suddenly the momentum almost toppling him back as both Andro and Michael try to skid to a halt. Michael falls and slides on the floor, getting to his feet and turning to Alex, but it's too late.

The demon towers behind of Alex dark and terrifying, leeching all of the warmth in the air around them, and making the stars blink out one by one.

It makes a low wet hissing sound that makes Alex go all tense as it forces Alex to turn around to face him.

Michael tries to think of something he can do, but his terrified mind is drawing a blank.

The last time that he'd been face to face with a demon was the night that Isobel brought Rosa back from the dead, and Michael had been knocked out of the fight before it even began. When he had woken back up, Isobel was catatonic, Max was angry and Rosa was gone.

And now there was Alex in a monster's thrall, and Michael doesn't have to think too hard about why Isobel couldn't leave well enough alone.

The air turns icy cold and there is an awful moaning groaning sound and then Alex lifts his left arm in front of himself crossing it over his right arm held aloft in the air.

The demon’s spell hits the protection spell with a sound like thunder and it pushes Alex back a little at the impact, but the bright vibrant gold of the spell shines bright dissipating the darkness of the demon’s spell.

There is deafening silence and Michael holds his breath as he inches towards Alex who is still frozen in place.

Michael takes two steps and the demon roars, a ripping wet sound that sends the smell of rotting meat and decomposing vegetables rolling straight pass them.

Michael gags and then there is another less loud roar as Andro launches themselves towards the demon getting in between it and Alex.

The demon shoots a spell at Andro and they break apart, disappearing into the shadow’s darkness as though they were never there.

Michael feels a sharp pain in his stomach and he tastes blood at the back of his tongue, but he can still sense Andro in the air, just too weak to reform.

“No!” Alex yells loud and sudden piercing through the air as a golden glow takes Michael's gaze away from trying to find Andro and back to Alex.

Michael gasps and takes a step forward only to feel something stopping him.

The ground at his feet glows black and pulses deep purple, a barrier between him and where Alex is, the outlines of Andro's protective circle.

Michael gets the bad feeling that as long as Andro isn't able to protect him, the circle isn't going to let him out.

He looks back up to Alex as the feeling of hopelessness crashes through him.

Black tendrils like fingers made of ash and smoke and darkness are wrapped around Alex's left arm, lifting him into the air. The boost Michael had given protective barrier is working, surrounding him completely glowing bright and gold and strong.

The demon lifts Alex higher into the air, and Michael can tell he's gritting his teeth so that he doesn't yell.

The demon presses his other hand against Alex's chest and he gasps, wet and painful.

Michael moves to take a step closer automatically, but a sharp pain pierces him in the center of his chest like someone wrapped their fingers around his heart and is squeezing.

Alex yells no again and the feeling gets worse, sending Michael to his knees as it spreads from his chest to his stomach, a pulling, tugging, squeezing sensation.

“Lea-ve h-im alo-ne!” he hears Alex heaving out.

Michael looks up at them, and can see Alex's eyes on him, the golden glow surrounding him seems like it's being funneled into the demon.

The pain intensifies and Alex screams as Michael tips over on his side.

He presses his forehead against the dirt as his vision starts to swim and a cold feeling starts to spread from the center of his chest and washes through him in a cresting wave.

Michael breathes out and he can see the white mist his breath leaves behind in the air and he would panic but there's an icy cold numbness spreading across his brain.

His eyes fall shut.

“Fine! I'll do it! I'll take it off! Just let him g-!” he hears Alex's voice from far away and it fades away with his consciousness.

***

Michael comes to with a gasp, sitting up immediately as he looks around disoriented trying to get his bearings.

He’s at the junkyard. He's outside. It's dark. He came home after talking to Isobel worried about Andro and found Alex-

His train of thought grinds to a halt as the memories of what happened flood his head. He looks around and this time spots the crumpled dark form that is Alex's body.

Michael crawls over to him, feeling a sense of relief as he passes the protective circle with no problems.

He scrambles closer to Alex and turns him around checking his pulse and exhaling in relief when he feels it beating hard in his throat against Michael's fingers.

Alex moans as he wakes up hands reaching up to his head.

Michael just breathes out and smiles propping himself up on his hands behind himself.

He touches something that's definitely not dirt and closes his fingers over what feels like a bundle of rough fibers.

He feels the broken edges of something pricking along his palm and he brings his hand forward just as Alex speaks.

“Michael?” his voice sounds hoarse and Michael looks up at him eyes wide feeling his heart leaping in his chest.

Alex leans up on his elbows and smiles at him, but there is something odd about it.

Michael looks down at his hands and jolts when he realizes what he's holding.

The bracelet looks so ordinary and plain in his fingers.

He remembers when he tied it around Alex's wrist, how Alex had pressed in close when Michael had asked for his hand, how he'd listened carefully as Michael said what it was for, how he'd looked at him afterwards eyes wide and unblinking and on Michael for a long moment before he'd leaned in and kissed him.

Michael remembers saying, “It will only come off if you want it to.”

He remembers Alex's response, words breathed against his mouth. “Good, because I'm never taking it off, Guerin.”

He looks back up to Alex and the smile drops from his face turning into a hopelessly bored expression.

Inky darkness leaks into his eyes turning them black and a cruel smile stretches across his face.

“Fuck,” Michael breathes.

The demon reaches out with one hand and flicks its fingers towards Michael.

Michael goes flying backwards again landing within the protective circle.

Michael gets to his feet immediately looking over at it.

The demon stands right on the edge of the circle looking at Michael intently.

Michael tries frantically to think of a way to get out of this, but he keeps drawing a terrifying blank.

It's not impossible to expel a demon, but it's not possible to do it alone. The only sure fire way is undoing the spell that brought it here, and that wasn't even an option.

“I should thank you,” the demon says tilting its head and smiling that too weird smile. “If it wasn't for you, I'd be stuck with the fiery brunette from the diner, but Witch Hunters are infinitely more delicious. Especially one with my descendants blood running through his veins.”

Michael clenches his fists tightly glaring, the broken pieces of the bracelet held tightly in his left hand. “Well, enjoy it while you can because I'm going to send you straight back to hell.”

The demon laughs and it sounds wrong and unnatural like human vocal cords should never be able to make a noise like that.

“You?” it says incredulously. “That little trick with the protection spell was impressive I'll give you that. But it's the limit of your potential.”

It grins at Michael like it knows something that Michael doesn't know.

“You have no idea what I can do,” Michael says clenching his fists.

It laughs again. “Then why don't you come over here and show me?”

It raises an eyebrow in challenge like it thinks Michael is that dumb.

The demon sighs when all Michael does is stare back at it, “You witches, always having to do things the hard way.”

It crosses its arms across its chest and closes its eyes and Michael doesn't have the mental space to worry about that.

He's thinking that the only thing that could work is broken in the palm of his hand and making a new one would take too long. But there are shortcuts he could use to make a temporary one strong enough to break the demon’s hold on Alex. He just needs something already imbued with magic.

The demon laughs again and Michael's gaze snaps back to it.

It looks amused. “It's just like I suspected Witch Hunters are an inquisitive bunch. They don't rest until they find the answers that they are looking for, and he knows what I know.”

It sings the last line sounding deranged and laughs again.

“But most importantly, and primarily the reason why he came here tonight, proximity makes the spell stronger. Too bad I was even stronger.”

The words hit Michael like a jolt to the back of the neck, but not for the reason that the demon wants.

He looks over to his truck, and swallows hard.

The Manes’ Heirloom Talisman is imbued with powerful magic. And it's already naturally attuned to protect Alex.

The only downside is-

Michael looks down at his left hand. At the scars lining the back of his hand. He inhales hard, and reaches out with the same hand, closing his eyes and searching for the talisman.

“Isn't it just like a Witch Hunter to not care about the consequences? He came to you for help because he knew he'd be stronger. He knew if his powers failed him he could just drain yours like a battery. That's all you are to him, a battery.”

Michael latches on to the talisman and turns to the demon, who seems to be struggling to find something suitably damaging to say.

“If you're trying to provoke me, you're going to have to try harder than that.”

Michael moves his fingers and the talisman flies from the ground to his hand.

The demon makes a noise of derision. “That's not going to do anything even if you manage to get it around his neck.”

Michael doesn't answer him as he kneels down on the floor.

It's easy to form the casting circle even though his hands are shaking and to ignore the demon as it demands what Michael is doing.

Michael traces the spell on the floor in front of him and places the talisman down on top of it.

“You're being boring,” the demon finally snaps. “I thought you'd give me more of a fight considering the fact that he could've come back at any time during the last ten years and kept telling his dad no.”

Michael jolts at that, getting distracted as he tugs a switchblade out of his boot.

“But if you're not going to fight, I'm going to look for a more willing opponent.”

The demon moves his hand and Michael calls out sharply.

“Andro!”

There is a loud howl and then the demon is being thrown backwards by a huge black wolf.

Michael feels a spike of worry but he knows that Andro won't hurt Alex too seriously.

He flicks the switchblade open and places the tip of the blade in the center of his left palm.

He would find the situation ironically amusing if it wasn't for how dire it was.

He hears howls and growls and the demons unearthly screeching, and tries to block it all out.

He inhales deeply and slides the blade across the skin, slashing his sigil across his palm and the protection spell up his fingers.

Michael reaches forward and grabs the talisman in his bloody hand before setting his other hand down on the dirt before him, the tips of his fingers grazing one of the curling symbols and inhales.

Michael thinks of Alex.

Of the first time that he touched Alex, and how his fingers trembled as he tucked his hands right against the curve of Alex's jaw, skin soft and smooth as Michael pulled him in.

Of the first time that he saw Alex, and how his heart had leapt into his throat and he felt mesmerized and bewitched and unable to look away.

Of the first time that he heard Alex, and how his laugh was as clear as a bell, a sound that Michael heard from all the way across a noisy crowded room, and how it had been the sound reverberating around his head when he'd been trying to fall asleep that night.

Of the first time that he tasted Alex, and how his mouth was sweet from the gum he was chewing and wet and warm and addicting.

Of the first time that he smelled Alex, and how his scent is strongest right behind his ear, where his shampoo and his cologne mix together with a scent that's just so uniquely Alex that reminds Michael of wood shavings and the breeze blowing across the hot sand.

He holds all of the feelings evoked in the memories and exhales and whispers the words to ignite the spell.

He feels the curse latch on to him immediately, sending jolts of electricity through his hand, and he wants to let go of the talisman but he just grips it tighter in his fist, fighting through the pain and thinking about Alex, about everything Alex means to him, all the good things and the bad things and that above all, Michael is willing to give up everything in his life if it meant that Alex would be safe.

His hand feels like it's on fire, fingers losing strength as he clenches the talisman tighter in his fist. He moves his right hand and clasps it around his left fist.

His hands tremble and he can feel the blood sliding down his arm, dripping down onto the spell scrawled in the dirt and it starts to smoke.

“Enough!” the demon roars and then there is a yelp and a thud, and Michael shuts his eyes against the ache in the pit of his stomach that tells him that Andro is hurt.

He forces himself to think if nothing but Alex.

AlexAlexAlexAlexAlexAlexAlexAlexAlexAlex.

There is a flash of bright white light burning at the back of Michael's eyelids. And he feels the magic pour out of him like opening a water faucet too far.

It doesn't hurt per say, more like he immediately feels dizzy and faint and sick to his stomach like he hasn't eaten anything all day.

Michael blinks his heavy lids open and sees the talisman in his hand feels hot, the golden light of the active spell peeking through his knuckles.

There is a loud sonic boom that crackles through the air and forces his gaze away from the talisman.

Michael looks up and sees it right at the barrier hands out in front it, eyes open and black and glowing and smoking.

He sees the amber stone hanging from Alex's neck glow dark gold and then turn black like a well of ink tipped over into a glass of water.

Another loud sonic boom rocks through the air and the barrier shatters like glass that dissolves into smoke.

The demon smiles smugly and stalks in reaching a hand out for him.

Michael scrambles at his fading reserves and wills himself to his truck.

He lands on the truck bed with a thud and looks around.

The demon whirls around and glares when he spots him.

Michael looks around again and wills himself to Andro's side.

They're still breathing when Michael presses his right hand to their flank.

“Come on, buddy,” Michael says. “I need you.”

Andro's twitches but doesn't wake up.

Before Michael can try anything else, he feels like something hook right into his spine and tug him back hard.

He lands right at the demon's feet and before Michael can will himself away it's reaching for him.

Wrapping fingers around his neck and using the hold to tug him to his feet.

Michael gasps weakly and wraps the sweaty fingers of his right hand around its wrists.

“Witches these days are so cocky,” it says into Michael's face, looking at him with Alex's eyes. “A spell is only as strong as the caster. And you're no match for me.”

“You're wrong,” Michael says weak and strained.

The demon smirks in his face. “You think you can take me?”

Michael shakes his head. And swallows hard.

“The spell is as strong as the intent,” Michael says as he presses the medallion of the Manes’ Heirloom Talisman to the back of the demon's hand.

The demon yells loud and horrible as the talisman burns, and the spell works through Alex's body.

It tries to push Michael away, but Michael tangles their hands together, keeping the talisman against him.

Golden light and black smoke pours out of their joined hands, and the pain pulses ever persistent in Michael's hand but he just holds on tighter, clenching his jaw hard.

The demon struggles and then gasps loud and painful and then falls like a puppet with its strings cut taking Michael down with him.

Michael pushes himself up and unclenches his finger with difficulty reaching up and looping the talisman around Alex's neck. It falls around his neck as though it’s magnetized and a tingling burning sensation starts working its way up Michael’s hand.

He drops down on the floor beside him falling on his back and looks up at the sky. He breathes in once, the silence feels deafening, the only sounds for a single long second; the wind rattling through the spare metal parts and Andro's soft wheezing.

Then Alex gasps loud and hoarse and arches on the ground.

Michael sits up with difficulty as Alex twists and turns and then sits up suddenly and moves turning his head to the side as he coughs and coughs until he's gagging.

Michael crawls over to his side and then gasps as the pain spasms in his left hand hard reminding him not to get too close, stopping him in his tracks as he presses his head down against the dirt as he cradles his hand to his chest, breathing through the pain.

Alex dry heaves, coughing one last time and Michael hears him drop back down on the floor.

Michael looks over to him and he's got his eyes closed, breathing hard, something darker than blood staining the corners of his mouth.

Michael shuts his eyes and exhales through the pain and tries to concentrate on anything else.

He focuses on Alex's breathing, and realizes with a jolt that Alex and Andro are breathing in sync.

Andro came to him in the aftermath of Alex disappearing, a nagging tugging in the back of his head, a tight squeezing around his chest, a painful clenching in the pit of his stomach that wouldn't let him be until he'd given into his instincts and had performed the spell.

He's so concentrated on their breaths that he doesn't hear the hissing smoke of the black goo that Alex had just thrown up until Alex speaks.

“Fuck,” he says and his voice sounds like it was scrapped raw with sandpaper.

Michael's eyes open and he watches as Alex sits up and tugs a silver flask out of one of his many pockets.

He leans over and collects some of the goo inside and then drops back to the ground looking over to Michael.

“Mission accomplished,” he croaks giving Michael a tentative smile, and Michael wants to laugh but he's afraid that he just might start crying instead.

He just sighs and closes his eyes again.

The hissing sound from the goo gets louder and Alex sighs again low and tired. “Fuck.”

Michael feels him get up and feels him get closer, and he clenches his left hand tighter and feels a drop of blood running down his wrist.

“We should probably head back to the protective circle.”

Michael laughs at that, and it sounds all wrong and there is a clench in the pit of his stomach as the demons words come back to him, that Alex is only here because being near Michael gives him a power boost.

“The demon shattered it like glass when I turned your family heirloom into a protection spell,” he croaks.

He feels Alex gasp and then scramble backwards until he’s far away enough that the pain recedes like a wave.

“Okay,” Alex says and there is something odd in his voice that Michael can’t quite decipher.

He can feel the exhaustion tugging against the edges of his consciousness. The feeling of using too much magic in such a short period of time makes him feel like he's going to be sick at any second and he can feel the edges of a headache threatening to take over, and a stinging sensation spreading from his right arm where the Hellhound had caught him with the fire chain.

“Okay,” Alex says again as the hissing sound gets even louder and Michael can feel the cold and heavy feeling of the demon slowly reforming. “One thing at a time. Good thing you weren't the only one who came up with a Plan B.”

Michael wants to laugh but he coughs instead and blinks his eyes open watching as Alex gets to his feet and starts to look around, “Where is Andro?”

Michael doesn't say anything, because Alex spots them then and runs towards them.

Michael turns towards his back and looks up at the stars listening to Alex talk as he gets to Andro's side.

“Hey there baby,” he says voice low and soothing like he was talking to a child and not a terrifying magical creature. “We gotta wake up now, Michael needs us.”

Michael's breathing hitches and then he feels something warm spread from the center of his chest to the rest of him, infusing him with enough energy that he opens his eyes and leans up on his elbows and through the heavy dark smoke he can see Alex bent over Andro, his hand on Andro’s chest a golden glow spilling from between them.

Michael inhales sharply as Alex falls on Andro exhaustion finally hitting him.

Andro makes a purring sound low in their throat and the warm feeling in Michael's chest gets stronger as Alex says something voice muffled and too low for Michael to make out.

Michael exhales and lets himself fall back onto the dirt.

The unearthly ghastly moaning sound that the demon makes as it reforms makes all the warmth flee his body replacing it with an icy cold dread and a sense of exhaustion that makes his head swim and immediately clouds his senses.

He looks up and all he can see is darkness floating above him.

It moves downward suddenly and Michael's thoughts freeze as it descends on him.

Before he can figure out what to do there’s a golden flash like lightning and the demon yells loud and terrible as it flees back from it.

Michael blinks slowly and then Alex is standing above him, feet on either side of Michael's hips at he faces against the demon.

Dark purple smoke and golden light swirl around him and the power is radiating from him in waves that makes his clothes and hair ripple as though he's caught in a windstorm.

As Michael watches, he raises his arms above him, crossing them at the forearms and ducks his face.

The demon's spell hits a barrier that surrounds them like a bubble as the dark spell breaks into dark red sparks. The dome surrounding them crackles with golden and silver grey flashes.

Michael feels a tug deep in his gut that makes the edges of his vision fade as he feels the bile at the back of his throat.

When the spell clears, the demon snarls something horrible sounding that makes Alex look up immediately.

“Because I know something that you don't,” Alex says and his voice has an odd timber, like he's growling the words at the back of his throat.

The demon hisses something but Michael can't look away from Alex and he notices when his stance changes.

Alex raises one hand in the air and goes through the banishment spell words sharp and precise.

The demon vanishes with a loud unearthly groan, and Michael feels a sensation like someone is tugging against the base of his spine. His vision goes black around the edges and he tips his head back and passes out.

***

Pain spasms through Michael's hand in small electric bursts that wake him up.

He flexes his fingers and feels the way his entire hand is bandaged, and he's pretty sure he can feel the edges of a pair of butterfly stitches above his eyebrow and gauze wrapped tightly around his right bicep.

He can feel the usual aches and pains that come from a fight that exhausted his magic, and he stretches out on the bed struggling to remember what happened through the fog of exhaustion.

“Sorry,” Alex says voice tight and just a little bit shaky, making Michael jump and freeze. “I just needed to sit down for a moment.”

Michael swallows hard as everything comes back to him in waves, and then he blinks his eyes open and looks out of the window, the sky is lighting up with the dawn. He takes a deep breath looks to the side and sees Alex, sitting with his back to him on the edge of Michael's bed, right by his hip.

His hair is wet and dripping down the back of his neck, and he's not wearing a t-shirt, the expanse of the skin of his back on display for Michael's eyes to catalogue every scar and every burn and Manes’ Family Sigil in stark black right in the middle of his shoulder blades.

Ten years ago Alex's skin was unmarked and smooth and pale.

Michael remembers the first time he'd slid his hands beneath his shirt and touched his soft, warm skin, remembers the last time he'd had his hands pressed against the sweaty skin of his lower back as Alex pressed in close, closer than anyone else has ever been inside of Michael.

Michael's eyes fall shut and he shudders, and his hands ache with the urge to touch him again.

Alex moves, and then hisses in pain.

Michael opens his eyes again to watch him leaning forward, hands massaging right underneath his right knee.

Michael sits up, and Alex straightens up, tensing immediately.

Michael manages to slide off the bed without touching Alex and realizes only then that they are both dressed down to their boxers.

He ignores the way that it makes a warm and boozy feeling spread out from the pit of his stomach and kneels at Alex’s feet.

He looks at the prosthetic for the first time and feels his heart leap into his throat.

It looks uncomfortable where the metal is fused to the skin a few inches below his knee.

Michael wraps his hand around the back of it, fingers touching the cool metal, and watches as the sigils etched along the front glow in white blue healing lights. He slides his hand up to where the metal meets the skin, but keeps his fingers pressed to the cool metal as he ignores everything and concentrates on the feeling of it, on how the magic works, and what he can do to help.

“It hasn’t been that long,” Alex says and his voice sounds even shakier than before. Michael slides his hand back down. “I haven’t gotten used to it yet. They said it could take months before I ever get used to it. I forget all the time, especially during a fight.”

Michael wants to ask if that’s the reason that he came back when he hasn’t for the last ten years, but he doesn’t really want an answer to that question.

Instead he concentrates and mutters a spell to relieve pain beneath his breath.

“Guerin, wai-” Alex starts, but it’s done.

Michael’s eyes open and he watches as the sigils burn bright gold and it spirals up in ribbon of golden light wrapping around where Alex’s skin is bright red and raw against the metal.

Alex gasps a sound full of relief and pleasure and then falls forward, hands gripping the edge of Michael's bed as his leg spasms in Michael's grip.

Michael’s control is flimsy at best when it comes to Alex, and right now Michael has been aching touch Alex for what feels like years.

Michael surges up, and Alex moves back keeping some distance between them.

Michael stares at him, and Alex stares back breathing hard.

“Why did you do that?” he asks breathless and hoarse.

“You know why,” Michael says moving in closer.

Alex licks his lips and swallows hard, and his eyes are still unsure, but when Michael moves in close, he makes space for him between his thighs.

Michael’s hands shake as he reaches for Alex, his left hand aches, and he thinks that maybe it’ll hurt more once he touches him, but Michael has to kiss him, if he doesn’t kiss him right now he feels like he just might die from the wanting of it.

Alex’s eyes fall shut, and Michael inhales deeply and presses his trembling finger to the curve of Alex’s jaw.

He’s so sure that it’s going to hurt that when the pain disappears like someone flipped a switch inside of him, all he can do freeze.

Alex is so still against his hands that Michael thinks his heart might have actually stopped beating.

But then he’s moving in, sliding his fingers to the back of Alex’s head pulling him in.

He stops right as their noses brush together and Alex’s eyes flutter open.

He stares into Michael’s eyes and his eyes are clear and wide, and Michael can’t help the smile that crosses his face at the thought that he had spent the last three days in silent anguish at the thought that it would always hurt to be near Alex, and now here he was, touching him, without feeling any pain.

He leans their foreheads together and closes his eyes with a sigh.

Alex moves into him until their lips are barely brushing, sliding his hands up Michael’s shoulders and into his hair.

Alex is still shaking against him, and Michael slides his finger up into his hair.

“It doesn’t hurt,” he whispers against his mouth.

Alex kisses him, fingers digging into the back of Michael’s head as he tugs him in even closer.

Alex is frantic against him like he’s on a time limit and needs as much of Michael as he can have, but Michael has spent a decade thinking that he’ll never see Alex again,  let alone touch him, and he wants to savor this.

He slides his hands down Alex’s shoulders, and down his arms and back up again, biting against Alex’s mouth until he gives him control of the kiss, and Michael slows it down, pressing his tongue to Alex’s bottom lip and coaxing his mouth open to kiss him deeper.

Alex sighs and his fingers loosen their hold in Michael’s hair and he tugs lightly against the strands moving in closer as Michael slides his hands down his back.

Alex shivers and moves in closer, moaning into Michael’s mouth.

Michael’s fingers stutter across the scars, and he feels the way that Alex tenses against him, before he’s moving back, parting their lips, noses brushing as he blinks his eyes open and looks at Michael as though he’s worried that the scars are a deal breaker.

Michael licks his lips and slides his hands even lower.

“Stay,” Michael says, sliding fingers into the waistband of Alex’s boxers.

Alex stares at him eyes wide and dark, mouth red and wet, and Michael wants to kiss him again. 

He’s leaning in when Alex speaks.

“I can’t,” he whispers voice low, and he’s looking at Michael like he doesn’t just mean to stay right now.

Michael’s fingers press into the skin of his back and he looks at Alex as seriously as he can. “You can’t?”

Alex swallows hard and his eyes are full of misery and guilt.

“I know the demon told you-”

“I don’t care about that,” Michael says roughly, wrapping his arms completely around Alex’s waist and pulling him in tighter.

Alex gasps and looks at Michael shaking his head. “It didn’t tell you everything.”

“I don’t care,” Michael breathes and leans in and kisses Alex hard and fast. “I don’t care about anything as long as you’re safe don’t you get that yet?”

“Don’t you know it’s the same for me?” Alex responds, eyes close as he presses his fingers into Michael’s hair and shakes. “It’s why I didn’t come back until now.”

Michael inhales deeply and presses their foreheads together hard.

“Alex,” he says voice soft. “Stay. We’ll deal with everything else later, okay? Just lay down with me.”

Alex blinks his eyes open, and stares into Michael’s eyes.

Michael looks back at him not hiding anything.

Alex exhales and nods his head pressing it harder against Michael’s before he’s pulling back.

“I did promise Andro they could sit on me until I’m better if something did happen, after all.”

At the mention of their name, Andro appears, a small black cat, forming at the counter and jumps on top of Michael’s bed curling into a dark blob right at the foot of the bed before giving Alex an expectant look.

Alex laughs, and it’s tired but delighted as he moves away from Michael to rub his fingers along Andro’s soft ears.

Michael leans back against his heels watching them and feels the warm and sweet feeling in the pit of his stomach intensify, and thinks he could get used to this.

[noramoya]

VERY EMOTIONAL AND SAD ! 😢💔😓

“HOW DOES IT FEEL WHEN YOU’RE ALONE AND YOU’RE COLD INSIDE ?” — MICHAEL JACKSON’S TRAUMA , WordPress.com

“The allegations and the accompanying relentless, decades long character assassination (that is still going on after Jackson’s death) took their toll on Michael Jackson’s health and psyché. In 1993, when the Jordan Chandler allegations came out, Jackson was on tour abroad, but due to the stress of the allegations his health deteriorated, he had to cancel shows due to dehydration and several times he collapsed backstage. In the fall of 1993, at the height of the Chandler frenzy, he wrote a song entitled Stranger in Moscow while he was touring the Russian capital. The song was released on Jackson’s 1995 HIStory album. It gives an insight into his state of mind at the time: the sadness, the loneliness, the pain, his collapsing world. As he put it in his lyrics: “Armageddon of the brain” – that’s how being falsely accused of a sexual crime feels like. Eventually on November 11, 1993, he had to cancel the rest of the tour because he developed a dependency on painkillers and he had to seek treatment.

During the 2005 trial we have seen Michael Jackson’s health deteriorate with each passing day and after his acquittal he had to spend some time in hospital to get himself together physically. Emotionally, mentally he could never really heal from the trauma before his untimely death in 2009. In the book “Remember the Time – Protecting Michael Jackson” Bill Whitfield, a bodyguard of Jackson’s, recalled this story from the last years of Jackson’s life:

“He didn’t trust strangers. Whenever he got caught in a crowd, he’d be real frantic and nervous. We were at a shopping mall in Virginia one afternoon. Javon had gone to get the car. I was waiting with Mr. Jackson by the exit with mall security. Somebody had recognized him and a small crowd had formed. He was signing a few autographs, waving to folks. It was a friendly situation, not a mob or anything. As Javon pulled up and opened the door for Mr. Jackson, this guy from the back of the crowd yelled out, “Fuckin’ child molester!” I heard it, plain as day. I looked at Javon; he’d heard it too. We were just praying that Mr. Jackson had missed it. But after we got in the car and drove for a bit, he leaned forward and said, “Guys, did you hear somebody say something back there?” “No, sir,” I said. “I didn’t hear anything. You hear anything, Javon?” Javon shook his head. “No, sir.” Mr. Jackson said, “I thought I heard someone say something very mean. I could have sworn. You guys aren’t lying to me, are you?” “No, sir.” We didn’t want to lie to him, but we knew what would happen if we confirmed it. Hearing someone call him a child molester? That would completely shut him down. He’d close the door and vanish into his room for at least a week, and we didn’t want that to happen. We drove on with nobody saying anything for the next ten, fifteen minutes, and then out of the backseat he said, “I would never hurt a child. I would slit my wrists before I ever did anything to hurt a child.” [1]

Perhaps we can get a little sense of what Jackson went through emotionally because of these allegations from a story told by a couple of his fans, Brigitte Bloemen, Marina Dobler, Stephanie Grosse and Sonja Winterholler, who traveled all the way from Germany to Santa Barbara to support Jackson during the trial. One day while waiting for him at the gates of Neverland, a bus carrying Jackson stopped and they had the opportunity to meet the star one by one inside the bus. Their story reveals an emotionally frail and very much wounded Jackson. It felt appropriate to publish this story on my website to remind my readers that while Michael Jackson might have been different to “normal” in many ways, he was a human being with feelings who deserves a fair and full representation of these cases instead of a verbal lynch mob and a witch hunt, and instead of the tabloid soundbites, cherry-picked out of context half-truths and lies that are often used against him in attempts at convicting him in the court of public opinion.

SONJA : “And there I suddenly stood — right in front of Michael stupidly saying “Hi Michael”. I tried so hard to remember the questions we had prepared and I had written down to ask him if possible, but now in this very moment, everything was gone. The only question that came to my mind and that would also make sense in this situation was “How are you?”— and so I asked him that Michael just stood there and didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me, but held my left hand with both of his hands very tightly. He then leaned over and kissed me on each cheek, but still he did not say a word. I was a bit confused and didn’t know what to do. So the next thing I asked him was “Are you fine?” He finally looked directly at me and bursted out, “No!” And he continued while squeezing my hand: “I just pretend to be fine, but I’m not – I’m not.” In the same second, he hugged me very tightly and I realized that he was crying. Oh my God, now I began to understand why he hadn’t said anything before. He had tried not to lose his poise and not to cry, but my questions didn’t help…

We stood there for quite a while just hugging each other. Michael sobbed a few times and I felt that he was shaking, although it was quite warm inside the bus. It took me at least half a minute to really understand that in this moment Michael was hugging me, crying and just showing and telling me his true feelings. Until this moment I had thought he really would be that strong and positive about the upcoming trial, like he had shown the public at the first arraignment a few days before. How naive I was! Of course, he was scared and of course he was hurt as much as one can be, facing these terrible allegations, when all he ever wanted to do was to help this kid, as he had helped so many sick children before and after that. Given these thoughts and feeling him shiver, I also had to fight with the tears.”

MARINA : “ I stopped when I saw Michael waiting at the top of the stairs, looking towards me. Sheepishly I said “Good morning, Michael” to him. At first he just looked at me not moving at all. It seemed he wanted to say something but after a few moments, he suddenly took my hands and pulled me up the two remaining stairs, kissed me on each cheek and embraced me tightly. In that moment all the pent-up tension, all the fear and sorrow for him, all the concern, all the sympathy but mostly all the love for him finally unloaded and tears streamed down my face. “I love you so much, Michael!” were the only words that came out of my mouth. Now Michael could not stay composed either, even though he had tried so hard, and so he broke into tears as well, while saying “I love you so much more”. He embraced me even tighter than before, trying to console me by caressing my head and back.

We both couldn’t stop crying and it seemed to escalate more and more. I felt and experienced in those moments, how totally upset, deeply hurt and broken Michael was by all the terrible things that went on in his life. He was not at all confident, as he had tried to show the world a few days earlier at the court building in Santa Maria. At some point Michael began to tremble from top till toe. It was so obvious that he desperately needed people in his life that he could lean on and trust and who believed in his innocence. For quite a while we simply held each other sobbingly, when he suddenly with a broken voice said ,“…you know they hurt me so much with this, they try to destroy me…” His whole body shivered badly as he said those words and I helplessly tried to console him as best as I could by caressing his back, yet found no words of consolation, because I knew the situation he was in was just terrible and to claim anything else would have been a blatant lie. “I know…, I know…” was all I could stammer and again we both had to cry so much, that we could hardly breathe. It felt like Michael was drowning and desperately tried to grasp at straws when he embraced me even tighter, it almost hurt. Yet in this moment of deepest desperation, he now tried to speak again, almost voiceless from all the crying, he croaky whispered in a desperate and beseeching way, “…but we must heal the world and help the children”. The way he uttered those words worried me more than anything, because they held a feeling of “Goodbye” in them, as if he tried to indicate that he would not be here with us for very much longer and needed us (fans) to fulfill his mission. Instinctively I answered: “Oh, we will – but we will do it together with you, Michael!”, trying to tell him that we all need him so much. By these words he literally broke down again and sobbed so badly that I needed to hold him up, in a way, and keep the balance for us both. Again we cried so much and it took quite a while until Michael suddenly found the strength to pull himself together. I tried to follow his example and both still shaking and our faces wet from each other’s tears, we finally said Goodbye to one another, before I shakily went down the stairs again, feeling completely worn out, heartbroken and empty.”

BRIGITTE: “Shyly and slowly I climbed up the stairs towards Michael, still avoiding to look up at him. I did not want to look him straight in the eyes, not to embarrass him and myself, so I just held out my hand towards Michael to say “Hi”. But before I could say a word, he grabbed my hand and pulled me towards him and immediately hugged me tightly.

I was kind of hanging there, about two stairs lower than where Michael was standing while he was pulling me closer and closer. There was a small barrier in the bus to define a place behind the driver and prevent people from falling down which also had a handle for people going up the last stairs to hold on. And since I could not climb up all the stairs for Michael had grabbed me before, I happened to have this barrier directly in my stomach which was not very comfortable, especially since Michael was pulling me against it real hard and was not letting go.

Anyway, so early in the morning, being tired, frozen, nervous and confused, your senses are working quite selectively sometimes — so I managed to forget having this barrier pushed into my stomach after mere seconds. It was only after a while that I realized how warm Michael felt and that he tried to warm me up by rubbing my back with his hand. He must have felt me shaking like crazy. The sound that the rubbing on the jacket made finally “woke me up” and I could feel Michael was also shaking a bit and he was weeping on my shoulder. We both stayed like this for at least one or two minutes without saying anything. Then, I heard his voice whispering in my ear: “Go on the internet… ”. As I said before, I was not completely myself then and there, and I just heard something about the internet, and was wondering, what he is talking about. However, after finally concentrating and probably telling my ear to listen, I could hear him go on: “Go on the internet and tell them all, tell all the fans I love them so much and they should come next time to the court! It’s SO important to me!” Having said that, Michael pulled me even harder towards himself. I could barely breathe, but I responded: “l promise they will come – it meant a lot to us as well” (meaning it made us feel better, too, to be finally able to help and support him and to give back to him after he gave so much to the world for years). After that Michael started to cry again. I felt kind of helpless and confused, I was shaking and sobbing, but could not really cry. It felt more like being in shock, I instinctively started rubbing his back as he did before. He hugged and embraced me tighter for a few moments, I could feel him breathing and sobbing – then he finally let go. He stepped back a bit, held his hands pressed together in front of his face and quietly whispered “I love you”. I said “I love you more”, turned around in total shock and almost fell down the stairs I was still standing on. Just before going down the stairs further, however, I saw I still had the three postcards from Munich which we had written to Michael last night in one hand. They were a bit bended since they had been stuck somewhere between the barrier, Michael and me, but I turned around once more, said “oh and this is for you” and gave them to him. He said a quiet “oh, thank you” while still wiping away some tears.”

That cold January morning changed all of us. It was the most heart-breaking, most hurting experience of our life to feel that someone you love so much is hurting so bad, yet to understand that you are unable to truly help, besides supporting him with all your heart and by simply being there for him. But what impressed us the most and made us truly understand who Michael really is, was that even in those darkest and most hopeless moments of his life, Michael’s heart went out to others, to the ones in need, especially to sick and poor children and to our hurting planet! We understood that this is what Michael really was all about! He was about helping and loving and caring for one another! And no matter how many times people tried to ridicule, belittle and hurt him and even, like in the last years, tried to destroy him, Michael never lost his ability to love and care and his deep desire to help others! He simply loved more!” [2]

SOURCES :

[1] Bill Whitfield, Javon Beard, Tanner Colby – “Remember the Time – Protecting Michael Jackson” (2014).

[2] Brigitte Bloemen (Author), Marina Dobler (Contributor), Miriam Lohr (Contributor) – A life for L.O.V.E.: Michael Jackson stories you should have heard before (tredition, August 8, 2013)

CATEGORIES : MICHAEL JACKSON’S HUMANITY ...

TAGS : #child molestation trial, #false accusers, #false sexual abuse allegations, #falsely accused, #Michael Jackson, #sexual molestation allegations, #trauma, #trauma of being falsely accused

THE MICHAEL JACKSON ALLEGATIONS, WordPress.com.