#I got to pull out all my horse knowledge into this from my years living on a ranch

[hcdragonwrites]

Spring Grooming

(a @digitalagepulao Fanfic)

I had brain fire from listening to Hoizers music so - HAVE A LITTLE FIC OF COMFORT AND BROTHERLY TENDERNESS !

The pines gave off their fresh and sharp scent as the rain continued to drip from them. Needles couldn’t hold the heavy drops up and instead shook them off when the weight became heavy and made their barren bases wet and cool. Pine needles crunch beneath horse hooves, spicing the air further. The rain cleansed the mountain air only for the pilgrims to churn the forest floor in their wake.

Spring was heavy in its breath upon the earth. The rain would have been snow if the sweet kiss of the turning season hadn’t warmed the earth. Instead her rain triggered a riot of colors and initiated animals and plants both to begin to grow again, to seek life, and to awaken from winters cold rest. Ba Longma felt his coat heavy on his body. As a dragon he had never felt the strange mammal tendency to grow hair king in a winter coat to stop the cold from stealing over his bones.

However his horse like form had other instincts, and one was to grow fluffier and thicker about. In the deep snows and the cold hail, when the sleet had slashed the other pilgrims and made their teeth chatter, he had been thankful for his bodies sudden growth. As eldest disciple, the eldest of the brothers among the merry band, it fell to him to carry his Master and tend him. He had spent less days in his humanoid form, and more as a horse - determined with will to carry his master through the worst of storms. To break paths in the frozen snows. The cold couldn’t touch him. Even as the ice formed in his mane and fetlocks, across his body where the sweat rolled off and in his tail.

Now spring was here. Ba felt his body sweating in the heat of the now warmer world. What had given him an edge, an advantage, was now making him suffer. He longed to scratch it off- to seek a low hanging batch of pinewoods and rub himself against them. He had tried to get out of the heat as a man but when he returned to this horse body, it held stubbornly to its habitual rotation. He was a magical steed but even that didn’t prevent the instincts of the seasons from effect his body. Sweat beaded beneath the saddle and it’s blanket, creating a crust of salt that itched and chaffed him. The girth that swung beneath his belly and held the contraption of leather and wood to his back, rubbed and creaked at each step he made.

Ba Longma had noticed the slight cracks beginning to appear in the leather- stiffened by the salt of his body and cracked by the movement. They would need to replace it or Master would experience an unexpected fall when the leather finally cracked and the cloth gave beneath the weight. He held his tongue, walking slowly onward.

When Tripitaka called for a stop for the day, for the mid meal and a bit of rest for himself, along a felt relieved. The terrible itch of his sweat, of the excess fur, had built from annoying buzz to a incomprehensible urge. His instinct was to rub, to roll, to cake his backside in dry cool dirt and to rub himself free of the fur and sweat. It had taken all his will power not to shake himself and beg his Master for a bit of relief.

As Wujing and Bajie set about starting the fire and cooking the rice and setting to chopping and mixing brown sugar into bowls with fruit to make candied sweets for snacking on, it was Wukong that came up to Tripataka and Longma.

“Shifu.” The stone monkey held out a hand and Trip took it. He dismounted, legs bowed from the long day in the saddle. Longma felt a twinge of worry. Did Shifu suffer from saddle sores? Had he been too rocky in his gait? Did he jostle him too much in the saddle ? These things hummed in the eldest disciples mind as Trip made to start taking the tac from his body. A monkey paw reached up and stopped him. “I will take care of Longma.”

“Are you sure Wukong?” Tripataka asked again. He had his hands on the bridle, fingers over the buckles that kept it in place.

“Of course Master. Go go- make sure that Bajie doesn’t eat too many palm fruits before they can be turned to candies.”

“I heard that!” The pig demon snorted, tusks flashing threateningly. They were not as sinister however at the flash of the cheeky smile of the youngest disciple. Trip hesitated only a second more before he settled onto a long and rubbed at his inner calves, relieving the cramps built there from the long day of riding.

Wukong turned an eye back to Ba Longma and the dragon horse saw a twinkle of something there.

“Now brother- I’ve noticed your switching tail all the way from the pine forest to here,” the little monkey crossed his arms taking on a scolding tone, “and you cannot fool me. You are uncomfortable.”

“I am not..” Longma spoke so few times in this shape. It felt strange to have the words rumble up and out of his throat and between teeth that were flat except the canines he retained from dragon shape.

“You lie poorly.” Wukong undid the chin strap of the bridle, pulling the top of the bridle free of Longmas ears. He let gravity slide the metal bit out of his mouth and Longma champed and licked his mouth back into order. Having the bit in his mouth, the metal contraption that sat over his tongue and across his mouth had at first, been something to get used to. Longma didn’t think it was entirely necessary - until he realized that his master was so light of hand and leg that he hardly asked anything of him in the rider fashion. Riding depended on leg and pressure - and Tripataka was too kind to even press his heels to his eldest disciples sides. Longma had decided then to keep the bridle so he could better sense when Shifu asked him to turn or gave the reins a gentle tap to coax him into faster gaits.

“I do not lie Little Brother.” He spoke softly, always feeling ill at ease when he spoke in this shape. “I just silently endure.”

“BAH!” The Monkey set the bridle carefully on a overturned stump and came back. He went for the girth, that terrible bit of leather that made Longmas under legs itch. “I was the keeper of Heavenly Horses. I learned the body language and silent speech of them. And you may be a dragon in disguise but you speak quite clearly of your discomfort.”

“Swishing tail, ears flicking back at odd intervals- the stamp of a hoof - you are uncomfortable.” The girth came free in a jangle of buckles and bands and Longma breathed out in a gratified snort. The saddle came free, the sticky blanket with it.

Wukong pulled a few hairs from his head and chewed them. When he blew them out he had a brush, a metal band that looked like a comb, an a curved iron piece.

“Let me tend you Brother. You carry our master day in and day out. Let me help as I know how.” The little brother asked, holding up the metal comb. Longma sighed. What he really wanted was to roll very undignified like in a nice patch of earth or sand. Instead he cocked one ear towards the stone monkey and nodded.

Wukong gave a little whoop of triumph then set to work. Though it had been five hundred years since he attended and took care of the horses of heaven, the knowledge of that time hadn’t faded. Wukong took the brush and began to tackle the sweat patch on the dragon horses back. He had to get the worst of the sweat off before it settled into a crust of hair and itchiness. So he set to brushing, first moving in little circles over the withers and down the back to break of where the sweat had tangled in the fur. Dirt and shedding fur came up in a flurry as the monkey worked his magic.

“Brother! You are shedding! You must be so uncomfortable in this heat.” Wukong tutted and cooed back, setting his hands to a flurry. Once the worst of the sweat and road dirt had been brushed and taken off the back, Wukong switched to the metal comb. Carefully and gently, to avoid the press of the metal on the points where the bone jutted or was closer to the surface, he brought the comb up and over. Clumps of the winter coat began to fly free in great flurries of white and grey.

The stone monkey was careful and diligent in his task. He found it soothing to brush and groom, to tend and care as he had when he had been in Heaven but also when he had been among his people. It almost pulled him into a trance like state, the task becoming enjoyable and habitual. Horse skin was sensitive, highly sensitive to the touch of flies on the withers, to the brush their velvet nose to feel sweet shoots of grass. He was gentle in the press of the comb, understanding that the metal bristles could hurt if applied with too much pressure.

Longma felt his head dipping lower and lower as the monkey set to work. Wukong combed his legs, his chest, his withers and shoulders. The relief! Longma felt the cool air kissing his skin as the old winter coat came free. A flurry of hair was gathering at his hooves, a great gathering of white grey fur. The two pilgrims stood in companionable silence, Longma soothed into almost slumber and Wukong consumed with the task of grooming. They were so absorbed they didn’t notice the birds of spring diving and gathering the great tufts of the dragon horses fur. Nesting materials this numerous were not to be frowned upon and the birds had a bountiful harvest for making nests and lining their woven work with the white down of Longmas winter coat.

“There brother doesn’t that feel better ?” Wukong finished removing most of the winter coat. The Monkey chuckled, seeing the half asleep expression upon the dragon horses face. It would be a time before the rest would give way. Winter fur always liked to cling and stay even after the dregs of spring have moved well into a summer balm.

“Alright Ba Longma, let me check your hooves.” The Stone monkey didn’t know if the senior disciple heard him. So Wukong set to the task of hoof care. He gently pressed into the horses leg and Longma lifted the foot instinctively.

“Brother! You have rocks all throughout the crevices!” Wukong truly was appalled now to see the state of the horses hooves. Such impaction with the hooves over time could lead to limping which could lead to further pain or, worse, lameness! Wukong champed his teeth and tutted more.

“You will go lame if you keep silent and then where will we be ?”Wukong spun the pick in hand and set it to the compacted hoof. He dug out the worst of the dirt and compacted little stones, careful of the sensitive parts in the middle of the foot called a frog. People thought horses to be tough and enduring animals when they needed as much care as a mistress of a fancy and rich house. They needed manicures and pedicures, grooming and tending, careful watch of diet and attention to detail. Each leg Wukong grumbled and chided the older disciple at his lack of self care and Longma simply sighed and grumbled. The dragon horse puffed in contentment. Now this… this was the life.

Wukong set the last hoof down and patted the white flank of his companion.

“From now on I will take care of you- we can’t have the senior disciple limping now can we?” Wukong chortled and left his brother to lie down and groan in relief.

“Thank you Brother…” Spring never felt so nice against Longmas now soothed and lighter fur, his brushed and tended body. The horse folded himself into the earth and closed his eyes, ready for a nice long and sweet nap. The birds flitted and landed upon the white flanks, plucking hairs and thick winter fur free. Longma felt none of their little ministrations as he drifted into a dreamless sleep.

[jupejumble]

you wanna hear me talk about my favorite live action movie? of course you do here we go (0 notes)

just a quick nope infodump cuz i have nowhere else to dump my thought about this movie -- i put it under the cut cuz i know some people dont like horror or scary stuff, and some people are planning on watching it and dont want spoilers :]

first this is my thing of how i finally got to watching nope, it can be skipped, the actual infodump starts at the pink text

ok so first of all, nope had caught my attention when i first saw some trailers for it,, then i forgot about it until i saw some fanart for the gordy scene, and i thought it looked so good. so i looked in the comments and people kept talking about that scene. me, being curious, looked up the scene on youtube. and it scared me so bad.

later in the year (2022) i went to universal studios in a family trip. i really enjoyed it but the one part that was my favorite was the studio tour, i love animation and film and cinematography so it was right up my alley. but at the very end of the tour, we went to the new exhibition of it. Jupiter's Claim.

the very same jupiter's claim from the movie (not really just a recreation). they did a whole thing with the aliens and it freaked me out. very fun but i did not expect it so it was alarming to see a set piece from a movie i had little knowledge on and was scared of.

so i did what i usually do to keep my nerves down, started researching it. watching trailers, actor interviews, cinematography etc.

i wanted to see what the movie was about, so i looked it up and read the plot on wikipedia, it did get me less scared of it, but it also really peaked my interest.

when the synapsis described jean jacket's final form, i hadnt imagined it was so big. in my head i thought it was smaller than a person and that it looked like a jellyfish. i was only half right. then once again, i forgot about the movie entirely.

until almost a year later. when i saw a "everything great about" video on nope. i thought, well they usually cut up the movie, and talk through it, so itll basically be like watching the movie.

it was really interesting, so i decided to watch it. now onto my infodump thing im mostly going to be talking about the themes and stuff

HERES THE MOVIE PLOT WHICH I JUST PULLED FROM WIKIPEDIA CUZ I DONT WANT TO WRITE THE ENTIRE THING -- you can skip this if youve watched tho movie, or just skip it if you want idc

[In Agua Dulce, California, the Haywood family trains and handles horses for film productions. One day at the Haywood ranch, small metallic objects violently fall from the sky. One of these objects, a nickel, ends up killing Otis Haywood Sr.

Six months later, his children, Emerald "Em" Haywood and a depressed Otis "OJ" Haywood Jr., are fired from a set after their horse, Lucky, reacts violently to its own reflection in a chrome ball utilized for visual effects. To raise money, OJ has been selling some of the Haywood horses to Ricky "Jupe" Park, who operates a Western theme park called Jupiter's Claim. Jupe exploits his past traumatic experience as a child actor on the set of a family sitcom that costarred a chimpanzee named Gordy. During filming of an episode, Gordy reacted violently to the sound of popping balloons and attacked at least two of his human co-stars, but ultimately left Jupe completely unharmed, before being fatally shot by police.

One night, the Haywoods notice their electricity fluctuating and their horses violently reacting to an unknown presence. They discover an unidentified flying object (UFO) that has been taking their horses and spitting out the inorganic matter, which OJ concludes to have caused their father's death. The siblings decide to document and sell evidence of the UFO's existence, and recruit electronics store employee Angel Torres to set up surveillance cameras. The UFO arrives and abducts a horse as well as a plastic horse Em stole from Jupiter's Claim for use as a decoy.

The next day, Em attempts to recruit famed cinematographer Antlers Holst to help them record the UFO. Holst declines, telling Em that chasing wealth and fame is a "dream you will never wake up from." Angel then arrives and reveals that a cloud in the valley never moves; OJ suspects this is the UFO's hiding place before theorizing, based on the UFO's flight patterns, that it isn't a ship at all.

Jupe introduces a live show in Jupiter's Claim where he plans to use Lucky as bait to lure out the UFO. For months Jupe has been offering the UFO the Haywood's horses for shows. The UFO arrives earlier than expected and devours Jupe and everyone in attendance for the show (including his family and staff), ultimately leaving only Lucky alive. OJ, attempting to retrieve Lucky, confirms his theory that the UFO is actually a territorial, predatory organism. After the creature showers the Haywood household with the detritus and regurgitated remains of the Jupiter’s Claim crowd, OJ realizes that it only attacks those who look directly at it. He devises a plan to record it. Em and Angel are hesitant until Em receives a call from Holst, who now agrees to help. OJ names the organism "Jean Jacket", after a horse that Em as a child was promised to train.

To circumvent Jean Jacket's effect of shutting down all electronics nearby, Holst brings a hand-cranked IMAX film camera. The group plans to bait Jean Jacket with a field of electrically-powered tube man props to deduce its location in the sky. However, a TMZ paparazzo trespasses onto the field and is thrown from his electric motorcycle when it shuts down near Jean Jacket, which devours him. Though Holst captures footage of Jean Jacket, his obsession with "the impossible shot" results in him being devoured alongside his camera, forcing the remaining three to flee. Angel survives an attack from Jean Jacket by being wrapped in a tarp and barbed wire, causing the creature to unfurl into a new, larger form.

OJ intentionally looks directly at Jean Jacket, allowing Em to use the motorcycle to rush to Jupiter's Claim. There, she untethers the park's large helium balloon mascot of Jupe, the large eyes of which attract Jean Jacket's ire. Jean Jacket attempts to feed on the balloon while Em uses an attraction's analog camera to photograph Jean Jacket as it feeds. Its attempt to eat the perceived threat results in the balloon exploding, destroying Jean Jacket. With the picture as proof of the creature's existence and reporters arriving nearby, Em sees an unharmed OJ and Lucky standing outside of Jupiter's Claim.]

WOOO NOW ONTO MY THOUGHTS ON THE MOVIE

we know that 6 months before the events of the movie, oj and em's dad was killed from a nickel that came from the sky and hit him in the eye and went into his brain. in the beginning of that scene we hear a radio news broadcast about some missing hikers. SINCE LATER WE FIND OUT THAT JEAN JACKET SHOOTS OUT THE METAL THINGS HE CANT EAT THAT COIN HAD COME FROM THE HIKERS

ohoho jupe, he's such a well written character. he is so complex. he was traumatized as a child with the gordy incident. he was the only cast member (as far as we know) to come out completely unscathed,,, physically. ----- when oj is trying to set up a path of buying the horses back, jupe says "yeah yeah we can do that" (HE IS A LIAR). and while oj is talking to jupe about that, em interrupts asking about the gordy incident. -- JUPE'S REACTION IS SO INTERESTING, HE TAKES THEM INTO A ROOM WHICH IS DEDICATED TO THIS INCIDENT BUT HE DOESNT ACTUALLY TALK ABOUT THE INCIDENT, INSTEAD HE TALKS ABOUT THE SNL SKETCH!!! HE HAS TURNED HIS TRAUMA INTO ENTERTAINMENT!!! the way i saw it is that he subconciously thinks that entertainment is a purpose, and if he can turn that incident into something that can be consumed by others then what happened wasnt for nothing. what he went through wasnt just a pitiful event in his life. it was something to be consumed. it was a spectacle.

JUPE BELIEVED HE WAS SOME KIND OF CHOSEN ONE, first gordy didnt harm him (which was because of the tablecloth not their so called connection) SO HE THOUGHT HE ALSO HAD A CONNECTION WITH JEAN JACKET

in the opening scene we see the first assembly of photographs to create a motion picture, the jockey riding the horse is oj and em's great great great grandfather, AND IN COMPOSITION OF THE CLOSING SCENE, OJ IS FRAMED LIKE IT

aaauughh i just love that jean jacket was named after the horse that em was supposed to train, cuz it ended up being her who conquered and killed the alien in the end

I LOVE THAT ANGEL WAS JUST SOME RANDOM STORE EMPLOYEE WHO JUST DECIDED TO BE PART OF THE GANG, LIKE HE DIDNT KNOW THEM BEFOREHAND AND JUST DECIDED TO JOIN THEM ON THEIR SILLY LITTLE ADVENTURE

i feel like holst was a counterpart to jupe, cuz while jupe wanted to exploit jean jacket for money and clout, holst wanted to exploit jean jacket for his art,, and clout,,,, so they were both selfish but it does show that even when you dont exploit or take advantage something for money and just do it for art ITS STILL EXPLOITING

THE THING WITH THE TMZ GUY OUGH I LOVED THAT SCENE. OJ JUST TRIED TO HELP BUT THAT GUY WAS JUST FOCUSED ON GETTING THE CAMERA, AND THEN OJ'S EYES REFLECTED WHICH CAUSED JEAN JACKET TO NOTICE THEM OUUGHHHH

i love how jean jackets forms differentiate for the circumstances, when she's just the disk its just chillin, just feeding and leaving, but once all the stuff happens against it it starts to get more aggressive. so like most animals he makes themself appear bigger, making for a really good shots in the movie

THE PARALLELS BETWEEN GORDY AND JEAN JACKET ARE ALSO INTERESTING, BECAUSE JEAN JACKET ISNT THE VILLAIN, JUST THE ANTAGONIST,, JEAN JACKET IS AN ANIMAL WHO IS JUST EATING, GOING THROUGH THE NATURAL MOTIONS THAT COME WITH BEING ALIVE. AND SO WAS GORDY, GORDY WAS JUST REACTING TO THE SCARE THAT THE BALLOONS POPPING GAVE HIM

I NEED SOME AFTERMATH CONTENT NOWWW, LIKE WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE NEWS STATION? DID THEY CLEAN THE HOUSE? HOW DID EVERYONE COPE??? DID THEY GET THE FAME THEY WANTED!?? I NEED TO KNOW

ok ok so jupes made up aliens? the viewers? THEIR DESIGNS ARE ALSO ROOTED IN HIS TRAUMA,, THE HEADS LOOK LIKE THE CAMERAS USED IN THE FILMING OF THE SITCOM AND THE BODIES RESEMBLE THOSE OF A MONKEY

i would put a picture of gordy on here but it has blood and dont wanna have that here,,, so uhhh if you wanna see him just look up gordy nope

and now some shorter things i really liked

the day for night filming IS SO GOOD

the themes about spectacles and human nature

oj and em's relationship (the siblings ever)

JUPE'S WHOLE DEAL

LIKE HOLY CRAP HE LEAD ALL THOSE PEOPLE TO THEIR DEATH!???

the cinematography is just mmm chef's kiss

all the characters are just so genuine

,, yeah these are obviously not all my thoughts on this movie cuz i think about this movie a LOT,, but i didnt want to overload this thing

[angel-of-the-moons]

Blood Moon

Marc Spector/Moon Knight x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Mentions of murder, spouse death, child death, betrayal, blood, violence, guilt, depression, manhunt

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Yeah remember what I said about trying to finish this before Halloween? Yeah I'm a fucking liar don't ever take me for my word I am a monster.

This is where I decided to merge a tiny bit of lore from comics/MCU Moon Knight here in regards to his powers.

But anyways... Have this little tidbit into Marc's backstory! Marc and Randall are only about two years apart in age. So that means Marc is 36 at the time of this story. Forgive a few discrepancies here and there as I better establish a timeline.

Taglist: @badbishsblog

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 5

Living with Marc was certainly a hell of an experience. But, at the same time, you two were becoming a well-oiled machine. Barring the awkward slip-ups that had you two avoiding each other like the plague for hours, anyways.

It was nice, you found, to not be alone in your house anymore. You never realized it before, but you were always so... gray. Lifeless almost when you were alone. You didn't like to be left alone with your thoughts of yourself, of your inadequacies you'd never voice with anyone except your therapist.

But having Marc around eased that loneliness you actually hadn't realized you'd been feeling. Hell, it wasn't until he moved in and you got used to having another body in your house that you realized you were lonely in the first place.

Despite this, you'd realized that while yes, you had read his file and learned about his background, you'd yet to actually ask him about his past.

You haven't heard it directly from the horse's mouth, as it were.

But you decided not to broach the subject, yet. You still felt that it was too soon for that after your fight and make-up as a team to risk being at the throat of your new roommate.

Because, you realized, it was nice having one again. You hadn't had a roommate since you had been in foster care.

And you weren't ready to lose that just yet.

Marc had odd habits, to say the least. More often than not, you'd catch him actually sleeping in the basement on the old plush couch you kept down there, instead of his bedroom.

His bedroom was always kept immaculate, but the basement was his workspace and god, was it a mess.

Papers and tech strewn about, gear scattered on worktables as he took them apart to fix them or run maintenance; plus the cases containing your hero gear as well.

It looked like a college student crammed for their exam two hours before their finals almost every time you went down there...

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Tonight, you'd found Marc fast asleep, snoring softly as he sprawled out on the worn, suede couch, his body sinking into the ridiculously squishy cushions as he dreamt.

He had one arm draped over his face, one knee raised, and the other arm hanging off the edge of the cushions, a datapad clutched tightly in his hand.

It was almost cute.

You pulled out a quilt you nabbed at a yard sale, once and carefully draped it over him, as the basement could get rather chilly at times and poor Marc was passed out in nothing but his sweats and a t-shirt.

You put your hands on your hips and looked at the mess scattered on the surface of the coffee table in front of him, plus the few on the floor. A few SHIELD-issue tablets, and some paper files (yeesh, who even used those anymore?).

You chewed your bottom lip hesitantly, sparing the unconscious Marc a small glance before you felt a nagging in your gut. Curiosity was always one of your less... qualities at times.

How did that story about curiosity and the cat go, again?

Anyways...

You simply couldn't help yourself. What exactly was Marc always researching all the time?

You had to know. Even if it was just a tiny nugget of knowledge.

You sat in a squat next to Marc, looking at him as he breathed softly, showing no signs of stirring.

You slowly and as gently as possible, pulled the tablet in Marc's hand free of his calloused fingers, and stepped away from him to turn it on, so the light wouldn't stir him.

And you were glad you did, it almost blinded you when you hit the power button.

How the fuck did Marc see with shit this bright?

You had to fumble until you turned the brightness down, and let your eyes re-adjust.

The thing that immediately struck you was one line.

A name.

It made your blood chill, turning into icy sludge as it crawled through your veins; you felt your mouth go dry.

Randall Spector.

Age: 34

Race: Caucasian

Last known confirmed location: Paris, France.

The rest of the page had a list of crimes he was the main suspect of. Murder, theft, espionage, assassination...

You looked up, dumbfounded at Marc's sleeping body.

There was no way they could be related. It had to be common name, right?

You looked back down and scrolled to another page.

And your hopes that it was a common last name were dashed.

The picture of the man was this Randall, younger obviously, he looked to be in his early 20s in his Illinois ID.

But the resemblance to Marc was sickeningly uncanny. Randall had messy curly hair that was slicked back as best he could, and a charming smile that could no doubt put a heart attack at ease, his brown eyes glowing with humor in their depths as he grinned for the camera.

You swallowed hard at the lump in your throat and continued scrolling. The file contained grainy and blurry security footage of possible sightings over the years in various places across the globe.

The most shocking picture at the end, however... Was a picture of Marc with a group of people, Randall included.

They were, judging by the looks of it, in a desert of some kind. Randall hung on Marc, appearing to be laughing as the photo had been taken, meanwhile Marc stood, unusually clean-shaven and stoic, his arms crossed over his chest as he gave a small, ghost of a smile.

A young woman stood to Marc's left, holding onto his forearm as she smiled widely, her dark black, curly hair pulled back into a tight braid, her thick-rimmed glasses perched all the way up her nose.

Marc and that woman wore matching bands on their left ring fingers.

You brought your hand to your mouth in revulsion at the revelation, feeling your stomach roil in protest. It was either guilt, or horror because you knew... Marc had no family. You knew about his daughter being dead. But not her mother. Nothing about a brother.

You were in too deep now, and you just couldn't stop yourself.

You scrolled to a new page, detailing a small bit of information on that woman.

Erica Spector.

Age (deceased): 26

Race: Hispanic.

Cause of death: Vehicular Accident (Attributed to brake failure)

The picture of her ID broke your heart. She beamed at the camera, her slightly crooked teeth showing as she smiled proudly, a slight glare in her glasses as the flash hit the lenses.

The next photo, was her and Marc. At their wedding. She wore a gorgeous mermaid gown with a floral lace neckline, her sleeves ending in almost a bell-shape. Her hair hung down in gorgeous waves with violets pinned to the strands, framing her face and sun-kissed skin illuminated with highlighter as she smiled at the camera. Marc had been looking at the ground for whatever reason as they both stood at the altar, his arm around her waist and his hand adjusting the waistline of his dress pants.

But he was smiling. And it was such a gorgeous smile, teeth out, dimples in his cheeks and his eyes practically closed from how wide his lips were stretched.

The next photo broke your heart.

It appeared to be a maybe a year or so later (at most) after the photo of them in the desert.

Erica was pregnant, her belly sticking out far in the baby blue sundress she wore, holding up a cute pink onesie in her hands that simply read "Daddy's Princess" on the front in purple cursive font.

The photo after that one was of them in the hospital, Marc standing by the window of the hospital room, holding his newborn daughter in his arms, a soft, glowing smile on his face as her tiny fingers gripped his hand.

You felt your chest burn as you felt the gravity start to kick in, but you turned another page in the file.

Diatrice Spector

Age (deceased): 5

Race: Hispanic-Caucasian

Cause of death: Homicide (Found to be caused by gunshot wounds to the chest.)

You felt like your heart would give out at that word.

Homicide.

You assumed Marc lost his daughter in some horrible, tragic accident, like you'd lost your family.

But no. Three years ago, someone murdered his baby. And her babysitter.

The photos of the crime scene unfolded next, bloody boot prints everywhere, the babysitter's head partially caved in from a beating, and Diatrice--

"What the hell are you doing?!"

You jumped and almost dropped the tablet in your fright, spinning on your heels to see Marc staring at you from the couch, the quilt hastily tossed off of him.

You expected him to be angry, to look absolutely pissed at you.

Instead he looked... Terrified. Scared.

Heartbroken.

His gorgeous brown eyes were big, heavy dark circles hanging like curtains over his cheeks as he stared at you, mouth agape.

"I... I... I'm sorry, I... I didn't--" You stammer, swallowing hard, clutching the tablet against your chest.

"I was just..."

God, there was no excuse for this. You were curious. Curious and nosey, and you didn't have the guts to ask him anything about his past to his face yet, afraid for the repercussions that might cause; of the ripples it would trigger in the glass-like surface of the water of teamwork you two strove for.

Marc looks at you, your eyes locked in a tense, silent stare.

Then, he runs his hand through his air as he lets out a slow exhale, shoulders dropping.

He looks away and waves you over to sit next to him, and he scoots to the side.

The moment you sat down, you immediately thrust the tablet into his lap, your palms spreading over your knees as you bounced your feet.

"L-Look, I was just--"

"Stop." Marc sighed, setting the tablet on the coffee table. His voice was still heavy with sleep, that slightly gravelly tone you may or may not have fantasized about once or twice.

He looked at you, his lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke.

"How far did you get?"

Your nails dug into the fabric of your pajama pants as your legs bounced aimlessly, trying to alleviate the embarrassment, guilt, and shame of you snooping through his things.

"I..." You say, chewing the inside of your cheek.

God, you felt terrible.

Your body stopped cold when his heavy hand slid over your knee, stopping your movements in their place.

You felt his fingers squeeze you softly, before his palm rubbed the bones he could feel beneath your skin and muscle in a soothing gesture.

"I guess it's only fair I tell you about me, huh?" Marc sighed dejectedly, taking his hand off of you and wiping his face, as if that gesture alone could erase his fatigue.

"To answer the first few questions I know you have bouncing around in your head..." He added, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees as he stared at the paperwork and tablets on the table in front of you two.

"Yes. Randall is my brother. My little brother. And yes. I'm looking for him." Marc looked at you.

You were sitting patiently, your brows pinched and your expression pensive.

"Nobody would listen to me, but I know he caused the accident that killed Erica." You saw his throat bob hard as his expression darkened. "The investigation said she veered off the road due to bad conditions. But I'm not stupid. I looked into it myself, and bribed someone to let me look at the wreckage. The brake lines weren't torn during the crash, they were cut before the crash. Nobody would listen to me and I almost got arrested for interfering with an investigation. Yeah, right."

He snorted, a humorless and cold sound.

"They closed the case as an accident, wouldn't listen to me. Said I was "too hung up on the loss of my wife"." He made finger quotes. "So I investigated myself. God, fuck, I knew it was Randall... If they'd just listened to me... He..."

His voice broke up as he clenched his eyes shut.

"Diatrice wouldn't have been... I would still have her."

"Marc...." You say, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Why... why would Randall do this?"

He sighs deeply, a heavy sound coming from him like the air was just vacuumed out of his lungs.

"It... Fuck. Randall is the one who introduced me to Erica. I had just gotten out of the Marines. It just... They weren't a good fit for me, so I returned to Chicago. Home." Marc leaned back, looking up at the ceiling. "Randall had gotten a job in some security firm for archeological digs, which is where he met Erica. It was good money, he told me. They were friends. She just got her degree and was trying to get the spot on a dig site somewhere. We... hit it off fast. Within a year, we got married, Randall got me a job in his firm. A year after that, we went to Egypt with Erica on a dig."

"Your file said you got your powers on a dig in Egypt..." You say softly.

"Yeah. That same dig. It was a pain in the ass, we still don't know what exactly happened. I touched something, a statue, and... Poof. Powers." Marc lets out a slow hiss of air, his eyes closing, dark lashes touching his cheeks. "We finished the dig, everyone swore into secrecy. SHIELD found out about it anyways, and offered me a position. It's where I built my ankh and my tech."

"But... Peter said you got your powers from the ankh." You say, brows knit together in confusion.

"He's wrong. My file was put down incorrectly, but it's been fixed since I noticed the discrepancy after Peter mentioned that when he wanted my help during the Symbiote Invasion." Marc looked at you, his eyes tired and strained.

"But still. Something pissed Randall off. Randall and I weren't ever really friends, even as siblings. We tolerated each other. When I got those powers and he didn't? He just... he fucking snapped. After we returned from the dig, members of the team started turning up dead. Then, we found out we were expecting our first child. It turns out that Erica either got pregnant during the dig or shortly after."

You couldn't help but smile softly, your expression a bit pained. "During the dig? Marc..."

"Let's just say we were happy I wasn't dead after touching that statue." Marc said, closing his eyes with a nostalgic, yet sad smile.

"But anyways... with our baby on the way, we focused on that instead. When Diatrice was born, it was the happiest day of my life. She was a happy, bubbly little thing."

You sensed the shift from affectionate pride as he spoke about his daughter, to the grief you knew was coming as he spoke:

"Two years later, Erica had her "accident". Three years after that... Randall murdered Dee and Sandra. God. That poor girl. She was still so young. She tried so hard to keep him from hurting Dee."

He gritted his teeth and rested his arm over his face, most likely to hide the tears that wanted to roll free from the dam of his eyelids. Marc's voice was a weak tremble.

"After that, I started hunting, I moved my base of ops to the sewers. I went digging after he vanished. He became a hitman, a no-good killer for hire. Then I went to ground six months before the Symbiotes invaded. After that is when Peter found me, or well, I found him."

"And here we are, a year later..." You said softly.

"Yeah." He croaked out weakly.

You both sat in a long, pregnant silence. You weren't even sure how long it was, all you could hear was the sound of the water heater making noises now and again, and the buzzing fluorescent lights illuminating your basement.

"Marc?" You finally asked.

"Yeah?" He answered.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and lean back and over, until your head rested on Marc's shoulder.

You could feel him hold his breath and tense, and you waited until he breathed again to speak.

"...I'm sorry for snooping." You apologized.

"You were curious about me. It's not like I've been forthcoming about this shit." Marc sighed softly, his body softening slightly.

"But still. It was wrong." You say to him, closing your eyes as you take a deep breath.

The smokey, pine scent of his choice of cologne and body wash filled your nose, filtering around in your lungs as you take in the essence that is Marc Spector.

"Marc."

"Still here."

"Thank you... for telling me all of this." You whisper.

"It was about time I get it all out. I guess it just took the right battering ram to knock the door down."

You can't help but chuckle, and Marc joins in with you.

It was good to hear him laugh.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

Pt. 6: Link

[wanderlustmagician]

Some rambling about my LU Modern AU that I’m committing to working on:

Modern Weaponry like we know it doesn’t exist. So no guns, no tanks, etc. What they do have is the standard medieval weapons of swords, bows, cannons, etc. Except it isn’t socially acceptable to just walk around with that shit, so they’re magically enchanted to take other forms (yes I’m pulling inspiration from Percy Jackson, leaf me alone) swords are pens, quivers are backpacks/bows are keychains, etc

Cars and motorcycles do exist in this, but it isn’t unusual to see people using horses or horse drawn carts/carriages in more rural areas. Trains also exist! They’re a little more rare though.

Modern Hyrule is split into two different maps, similarly to TOTK just omit the depths, and its Hyrule (Surface) and Hyrule (Sky Islands) on maps. Castletown is the Capital of the Surface while Skyloft is the Capital of the Sky Islands. Both report to the castle. There are still the three regions with their respective peoples (Rito - Hebra, Gerudo - Desert, Zora - the domain) and the Sheikah do inhabit the fourth region as their ancestral “capital” Kakariko. Yes I am using BOTW/TOTK map for the basis of this map.

There is a Queen. She does have a consort, but confirms nothing about them to anyone. People are unsure if it’s true or not. She is rarely seen, unless you’ve been summoned, and she is rarely seen together with her consort. She is treated like a goddess, a queen, or with derision by the populace. She is Queen Hylia Zelda Leclair.

She technically is a Priestess and has Visions of the Princesses when they’re born. She summons them roughly a year or so before their Hero will be needed.

Princess and Hero are titles and only given to those Called by the Goddesses via Hylia.

Princesses are Called a year or so before they and their Hero will be needed and they undergo Princess training - Goddess magic training, General Knowledge classes, how to use meditation for having Visions, basic first aid, hand to hand combat, weapons training, horseback riding, etc etc. These girls can handle themselves pretty well after all that.

Princesses do not hold a Government Position. That’s not what it is. It’s more like they’re Queen Hylia’s Ambassadors to the populace, no politics attached. They’ll do a lot of outreach work, along with whatever they do for their regular lives outside of their Princess Work.

Heroes fly under the radar. They’re rarely known, by Hylia or their Princess, until It Is Time. They’re usually not Called like the Princesses by Hylia. It’s more like they’re just there when the trouble starts, along with their Princess, like a big not so happy accident.

The history of Hyrule details out the various Heroes who’ve come to the country’s aid and have dedicated Constellations to them. Some of the accounts of the heroes of the past have been lost to time, but there are Ten Known Heroes of the Past. Nine of them have dedicated Constellations, the tenth constellation is dedicated to both the first hero and all those lost to time.

The Hero Constellations are The Feather, The Minish, The Ocarina, The Bunny, The Wolf, The Seagull, The Fairy, the Scarf, and The Silent Princess. The final is The Sword of Legend.

Most Hylians believe that being born in the times of the year when these constellations are brightest means that you have the traits of that hero. Kind of like Zodiac signs, except a little more extra.

Other notable things about the night sky, there’s a red star - it’s called the Star of Demise. Blood moons happen once every 100 days, some people get sick during this event. There is a grouping of four constellations that appear with The Silent Princess called The Champions, as a group, and individually are a Camel, a Bird, a Lizard, and an Elephant.

Ordon is located just outside of Faron, semi close to the mountains. It’s one of the more remote towns and is a very successful farming community known for their goats.

And that’s all I’ve got that’s not getting into more specifics for the boys and such. If anyone is interested in that, I’d be more than happy to chat about it :)

[courtofthrones]

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x reader

Summary:What happens when two people who are the opposite ends of a thread of fate try to get the other end of the thread to burn knowing they would burn too. Because he was the throne but she will see the throne burn.

CW: Mentions of suicide, burning of houses.

A/N: I have read this only once so be kind about any mistakes. Reblogs and feedback of any kind is appreciated.

..................................................................................

Stage V: THE SENKAS

"Niyam! "

Your legs couldn't take you any faster as you rushed into the arms of your closest friend. Even under the dim moonlight you could see his beautiful smiling face that had adored you as a sister through many years.

Niyam was your rock .When it seemed like you were going to drown yourself in your grief from the tragedy that brought destruction upon your family he had saved you. Saved you from the world and yourself.

After the tragedy upon your family you saw no point in moving forward in life. It was the loss of your greatest ally. So when the pain got unbearable you had vowed to put an end to it forever.

But it seemed the cauldron had different plans for you.

You had even jumped off the cliff into the ocean but before you could rest in death's embrace you were pulled out of the water onto a fishing boat by strong hands marred by years of hardwork . The boat that helped you stay afloat in the darkness of life.

That's how you had met Niyam. Your dearest friend. He was a fisherman's son from one of the rural parts of the court where only the lower faes dwelled. His father had caught a deadly disease and was bed ridden. Niyam had therefore had taken up his father's fishing business to keep his poverty stricken family alive in the cruel court of autumn.

Over time having shared the same morals and ideas you both developed a friendship dear to your heart.

"How are you y/n?" His words pulled you out of the trip down memory lane.

"Better now that you are back" you said as you let go of him and reached for Myhir as he came near you after tying the horse to a tree.

"Now that is a lie because you have been having a merry time in my absence if the scent from both of you is something to go by." you chuckled as Niyam's teasing caused Myhir to hide his face in your neck with embarrassment.

" That I cannot argue with."

"Well as much as I would love to tease Myhir let's go inside, the others were just starting to get restless." Niyam threw the words over his shoulder as he started walking towards the dark and decaying house in front of you.

It was shrouded in the darkness of the night hidden behind the many trees surrounding it. It looked abandoned as usual with no sign of life around it.

As Niyam opened the makeshift door to let you all enter, the damp smell from years of negligence rushed into your nose.

Lighting a fire torch your group of three proceeded further into the run down house before coming to stop in the middle of it . Lifting the mouldy carpet from the wooden floor Niyam heaved a wooden door from the ground that had been made to look as inconspicuous as possible.

The existence of the numerous hulking caves in the Red forest of the Autumn Court was common knowledge through all of Pyrthian but most were unaware about the labyrinth of underground passageways that snaked beneath most of the court. Many human bones had been found down here and you reckoned they were probably from the humans trying to escape the war between the faes and humans.

"You know sometimes when I navigate these passages alone I hear sounds of crying." Myhir whispered near your ear with his tone purposely lowered to scare you to your grave.

You smacked the back of his head as a reply as Niyam chuckled at your antics.

You were no stranger to the idea of mythical creatures having lived a long life as a fae but the matter of your engagement looming over your head did not let you spare a single thought about anything else.

As the caves closed in, you grabbed Myhir a bit tighter in response.

Finally you came across the makeshift door at the end of the pathway and Niyam entered by ducking his dead down.

A lamp burned in the centre of the room bathing the room in a warm glow and illuminating the familiar faces of your comrades.

"Took you three long enough. "Aedan commented from his seat by the corner of the room.

Aedan was an apprentice in a blacksmith's shop and thus very talented in all kinds of weaponry. Beside him was Zion, a lower fae who had moved to the court from the outskirts of the court after his wife died during a plague that took many lives due to the ignorance of the high lord. Then there was Verena who was the jack of all trades.Having worked under a sketchy high fae most of her life she had mastery over spying, fighting, assassination etc. You name it .And sitting on the rickety table was Calia a healer, silent as usual. They were the oldest members and leaders of Senka. The rebellion to overthrow the Vanserras.

Years after your brother's unjust execution when sorrow had turned into anger and need for revenge you had vowed to yourself you would see the throne burn even if you had to lay your life for it. So you had become a rebel . Faes from all over the Autumn land who had suffered enough at the hands of a tyrant found themselves joining your cause. To bring an empire built upon the broken backs of the innocent to its deserving end.

You took a seat by the lamp on one of the spare chairs that Myhir had pulled out for you, your jumping at the action. But acknowledging your betrothal was of grave importance, so you steeled yourself to drop the news.

Clearing your throat you spoke with a steady voice "I am to marry Eris Vanserra,the heir of the Autumn Court in a fortnight."

As soon as the words broke free from your lips a stunned silence fell over the room.Niyam's face was coated with sympathy as he looked at you and Myhir who stood behind you holding onto your shoulders.

"Y/n this is no time to jest." Verena was the one who broke the tense silence that had settled upon the room .Looking devastatingly beautiful even under the dim light of the lamp.

Your sad smile cleared any doubts she could have about the truthfulness of the statement.

"Then this is a death sentence y/n not an engagement." commented Zion worries about the dangers of the engagement lining his tan face.

"Yes it could be dangerous but it might turn beneficial for us if we play our cards right." Aedan drawled from his seat without even taking his eyes off you."Because they would never expect the leader of the rebellion to walk right into their home."

Aedan had always unnerved you with his contradictory opinions. You both were always at each others throats whenever you both disagreed with each other's beliefs. But he was knowledgeable about matters of battle for which you held a lot of respect for him as a friend and as a fellow comrade.

"Whatever could you mean Aedan?" questioned Verena.

"What I mean is having one of us acting as our eyes and ears could help us bring the Vanserras down earlier than we planned."

Niyam hummed and you could not for the life of you figure out whether it was in approval or disapproval.

"It is dangerous but if we are to bring a tyrant and his blood soaked dynasty to its knees this is our best shot." Calia spoke for the first time.

At that everyone turned to hear what you had to say. And the unspoken question stirred in the air: Were you willing to walk into the fire in order to have the new kingdom rise from its ashes?

"I....I do not know if I could go forward with the engagement." Your head throbbed with pain from all possibilities.

"You need not decide whether you would marry him right now. Just attend to all the preparations and study your circumstances." Niyam encouraged you, worried about your wellness before all.

But before you could get a word out someone burst in through the door.

" Fire.... Fire ."panted one of the younger Senkas having rushed to the meeting place.

"Fire at the Tarsa estate."

--------

"Mother! Mother." you shouted as soon as you got off the horse.

"Y/N" cried your mother as you rushed to her wading through the crowd gathered around your house.

"Mother are you hurt? Where is father? What about the servants? Is everyone out?" you were frenzied with worry.

"Oh thank the mother you are safe. Where have you been? Everyone has been searching for you? Your father has gone out to get help." came your mother's reply with sobs racking through her body.

" I escaped from the window as soon as I smelt the fire." you lied as easily as you breathed not wanting to tell your mother about your true whereabouts.

"From the window! Y/n have you lost your mind that is not ladylike. What if something happened to your face? The high lord would have ended the engagement."

"Mother now that I see you are alright enough to spit useless sentences, I am going to help the others." came your scathing reply, tired from the long day.

As you walk away from your mother your heart broke into pieces watching your childhood home burn. Memories of hundreds of years turning to ashes right in front of your eyes. You had lived your entire life here. All the good and bad. Despair wracks your heart in its cage of bones.

You were tired. Tired from having to rise again and again from the ashes. Tired from patching your scars and picking up the pieces .

Still you did your best to salvage whatever you could. You didn't even notice when tears started rolling down your eyes as you saw the hurt the fire had caused.

By morning your hands were black with soot from helping with putting down the fire , your body ached all over and you just wanted to close your eyes and never open them again. But even that seemed like a luxury as your father who had returned from mother knows where ushered your family and all his workers into carriages. In all the frenzy you caught a glimpse of Myhir as he climbed into the carriage with your father.

Apparently the High Lord had extended the courtesy of letting your house stay in the Forest house.

You let yourself rest your head on the window of the carriage as the horses dragged it towards the palace.

---

"Lord Tarsa I am so relieved to see you and your household unharmed."Beron said with not even a drop of emotion in his words. Insincere and indifferent as ever. You could not believe this. What kind of high lord summons the victims of a deadly accident to the throne room instead of letting you rest and seek a healer's attention.

"Thank you, your grace. Though I would request an investigation about the cause of the fire." your father replied submissive infront of the high lord as ever.

You watched as Beron turned to his advisor behind him to consult about the matter. As your eyes roamed around the room you found yourself looking at Eris Vanserra sitting beside his father's throne who smirked as soon your eyes met as if this was a joyous occasion. He did not even bother hiding his true thoughts about this accident from his face.

"Lord Tarsa as much as the accident grieves me I believe an investigation to be totally unnecessary it was probably some drunk sentries who caused the fire. So it is best if we let this matter go." Beron's words pulled your attention from Eris.

And you knew right then it was no accident that your house caught fire. It was Beron's work .. You had seen your mother cry through endless nights. You had watched as your father drowned himself in several bottles of wine. The Vanserras would not let your family take a single breath of relief as long as they had power. They would banish you to the end of the world if they thought it would hurt you but they knew the humiliation in the court was a better punishment.

"You couldn't have said it better my lord." drawled Eris with that damned smug expression still on his face.

With everyone's attention on him he said "I think it would do all of us good if we bury the matter and invite the Tarsas to stay with us till the marriage so that they will return after the repairs are done. Well except Lady y/n of course who would be staying here forever."

He was taunting you. Poking at your wounds to see how much more you could take.

A monster. Monster from your scariest and darkest nightmares. As if your misery awarded him delightful pleasure.

Well two could play at this game. If he loves the company of misery so much misery is what he will get and by the time you are done with him he will be begging for you to let it end. At that moment you made your decision, you would marry him. You would marry him and walk into the fire. But you would not do it alone, you will drag him too into the burning embers with yourself.

So with your chin held up high and back straight you let the damned words escape your lips.

"You honour me my prince and I cannot wait to spend more time with you my betrothed."

Part 6

[brighteyedjill]

🥤 📚 🏜️ 🐝 🧩 for the ask game!! <3<3

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

Here's a few amazing fics in some different fandoms:

Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves, Edgin/Xenk: To the Ends of the Earth by @moorishflower. An AU in which Xenk comes to recruit Ed while he's in Revel's End, there's a lot of irritation, and then they discover maybe they both misjudged the other. Xenk's internal monologue is so good.

The Witcher, Aiden/Lambert, Keira/Lambert, and Aiden/Lambert/Keira: Even if you don't know anything about Keira, or don't usually read about her, the Trust series by @bomberqueen17 is a treasure. It's got nonbinary Lambert, Aiden captured by an evil sorceress, cute domesticity, and heart-wrenching misunderstandings. You can start with Very Dark Magic if you're mostly here for the Laiden of it all, but I bet you'll want to go back and read what's been going on with Lambert and Keira.

Shadow and Bone/Six of Crows, Jesper/Wylan: My Little Pony: BDSM is Magic by @sparrowmoth. I'm not saying this just because they sent this ask! If you haven't really thought pretending to be a horse could be hot, prepare to have something awakened. Also, it's tremendously sweet and the characterization is spot-on.

MCU, Bucky/Steve: Lead Me Not into Penn Station by @kaasknot has an excellent title. It's a delicious little one shot set in pre-war Brooklyn about Bucky taking Steve to the baths for a good old-fashioned gang bang.

📚 ⇢ what's the last thing you wrote down in your notes app? 

A list of things I wanted to google when I had cell reception back. 😂 I cannot function without immediate access to all knowledge!

🏜️ ⇢ what's your favourite type of comment to receive on your work?

All comments are cherished. One kind I really enjoy is the live slug reaction kind where people write down reactions as they go, sometimes pulling out quotes from the text that really strike them. Like, "Oh noooo that is so like them!" or "This line hits hard." Another type of comment I really enjoy is the woeful sort, usually in response to an angsty fic, i.e. "I am in a puddle on the floor of my bedroom now my heart will never be the same, brb my feelings are slowly draining into the void."

🐝 ⇢ tag your biggest supporter(s) and say one nice thing about them

@bittylildragon is a tremendous beta and cheerleader (and writer and artist). The amount of helpful insight and criticism they have provided over the years I've known them is.... massive.

@contemplativepancakes is such a stellar commenter. I think she's commented on, like, every Witcher fic I've ever written? I always smile when I get an AO3 notification about one of her comments.

@ainawgsd is another power commenter. I always enjoy seeing their icon (is it a German Shepherd?) in the comments section.

@kuwdora is the patron saint of obscure pairings. They are always right there with incandescent joy and thoughtful comments when I post a fic for a little pool noodle of a ship.

@rubynye is a delight who is always a bright spot in my inbox. Also, there is no squee like a rubynye squee.

🧩 ⇢ what will make you click away from a fanfiction immediately?

No paragraph breaks. I am sorry, my eyes no work like that!

From the Writers' Truth of Dare Ask Game. Send me an ask!

[jennay]

The Perfect Day

Inspired by this picture and @lma1986 thank you for the idea!

An: I'm trying a new writing style and trying my best to be more descriptive. Let me know what you think is it too much?

When you were a child, you wanted a life in the countryside surrounded by furry friends. You envisioned a farm where you could cultivate crops and nurture a variety of critters in a cozy barn. Your heart desired to be surrounded by a pack of loyal and loving dogs and other animals you could care for.

As a wide-eyed eight-year-old, you excitedly shared your dream job with your parents: a singing veterinarian. Your passion for animals and music intertwined to create a vivid vision of your future filled with joy and purpose.

You got the veterinarian part down, and you got the countryside home that you wanted, but you decided to leave the singing part to your lovely boyfriend, Jamie.

It was always a treat to hear him belt out a tune, and you couldn't help but smile when you caught him serenading the cattle in the barn. His love for nature was evident in his gentle demeanor and interaction with the world around him. You found his compassion toward all living things both inspiring and beautiful.

You often wondered about Jamie's future. An image of him playing with his kids in your shared house made your heart melt with joy. He would make an excellent father and teacher, passing on his knowledge and skills to the next generation.

"Darling?" You hear Jamie's voice call from the open screen door. "There you are." He steps out onto the deck. You hear the floorboards creek as he walks toward you. He stands beside you, leaning against the railings overlooking the stunning view. You notice him mimicking your actions by placing his elbows on the rail and resting his chin in his hands. "Beautiful, isn't it?" He remarks.

You couldn't agree more, "It truly is."

"I was talking about you, but the view is nice also." He lets out a chuckle.

You feel your cheeks flush with warmth as you smile at him, redirecting your gaze, giving him your full attention. The sunlight hits his beautiful blue eyes, making them sparkle like diamonds. His toothy grin is contagious, and you find yourself being mesmerized by him. Your fingers trail along his face, and he leans in, capturing your lips in the gentlest of kisses.

He slowly pulls back, and his eyes are still filled with adoration. "I have a surprise for you," Jamie reveals with a mysterious smile.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "Oh?"

"Would you like to see?" He sneakily grins. "We'll have to walk down to the barn, but I promise it will be worth it."

You nod, "I'm both excited and worried."

A comforting smile graces his face as he extends his hand toward you. "Don't fret. It's something you've wanted for a long time." Jamie says in a soothing tone. You interlock your fingers with his and follow his lead as he guides you down the path surrounded by lush trees. The shade provides much-needed protection from the summer heat.

As you walked along the trail, your loyal golden retriever Milo trotted alongside you. You felt a sense of gratitude towards your furry companion for his loyalty and willingness to keep you safe. Milo's nose worked tirelessly as you continued, picking up scents of the other animals that had passed. Suddenly, you arrived at a barn, and Milo eagerly awaited you with a wagging tail.

"You're such a good boy." You bend down in front of the retriever, letting him know how much he is appreciated; you give him a good scratch behind the ears. "Stay." You tell him while Jamie opens the barn door.

Your breath catches in your throat as you lay your eyes on not just one but a pair of stunning horses occupying a single stall. Your mouth gapes, and you take no time rushing to them, leaving Jamie in the dust. As you approach the majestic, midnight-colored horse, you can feel your heart racing with anticipation. You reach out your hand, slowly running it down its snout, feeling the warmth of its breath on your skin. "Oh, my goodness," you whisper in awe. "You're so beautiful."

Your attention is drawn to another stunning creature nearby, a pure snow-white beauty, and you can't help but gasp at its magnificence. "Wow," you whisper, barely able to contain your excitement.

Jamie approaches you with a proud smile, and you can't help but feel a surge of happiness. "How'd I do?" He ask eagerly.

You can hardly contain your enthusiasm as you wrap your arms around Jamie, overcome with emotion. "I love it!" You exclaim. "They have saddles... does that mean what I think it means?"

You can feel your heart racing with anticipation as Jamie confirms your hopes. "Yes, Love. It does," He says with a smile. "Are you ready?"

"More than ever." With a careful hand, you unlatch the door to the stall and step inside, ready to lead the black horse out. Jamie is there beside you, offering assistance as you take a cautious step forward. It's a bit of a climb to get out of the stall, and you feel a little uneasy at the height, but you push the nerves aside. You've done this many times before, after all.

Once the horse is out in the open, you take a moment to appreciate her beauty. Her coat is a deep, rich black, and she looks up at you with curious eyes. You reach out a hand and stroke her neck, feeling the softness of her fur under your fingertips.

Jamie takes the lead. It's clear that he's done this many times before, and it's reassuring to have someone with experience by your side.

As you and your three companions navigate through the dense forest, you eventually reach a gravel road that ascends a towering hill. Jamie sticks close to you, while Milo seems to take charge and lead the way. The sun is beginning to set, and you can't help but feel that the view will be breathtaking once you reach the top.

"Look at you," Jamie chuckles, "You look sexy!"

You giggle, "Stop it!" and tighten your grip on the reigns out of nervousness.

You are relieved to be on your feet when you reach the top. You notice a gentle breeze brushing against your face. As you turn around, you see a soft blanket on the lush green grass waiting for you to settle in. It's as if Jamie had planned every detail to perfection.

You observe Jamie fastening the ropes around the tree's sturdy trunk. Your mind is put at ease, knowing your new friends will be kept safe and secure in this environment even if they get startled. "Perfect," Jamie declares before returning to your side, where you can simply unwind and admire the view of the sun setting over the horizon.

As you snuggle up to Jamie, you feel the warmth of his body against your back. His strong arms wrap around your shoulders, and he affectionately rests his chin on your head. "This is the life." He murmurs.

However, you can't help but feel that something is missing. You gather your courage and admit to Jamie, "I was thinking that maybe having some non-furry children would be nice." He leans in and kisses your temple, silently acknowledging your desire for a family. "We'll get started tonight."

Part 2

[ziracona]

I just want to say though thank you for writing ILM and all your other DBD fics. I don't think i can truly articulate just how spectacular the writing is and the impact they've had on me and countless others. My friends and i joke that ILM changed our brain chemistry, and the truth is that they're right.

The way you write about human emotions and experience even in an uncontested hellscape is unparalleled. The way the fear of pain and death never truly goes away, the knowledge that you know you're going to suffer but still hoping that maybe this time will be different - it is entirely what people are made up of. Of hope and determination and courage.

The moments of levity in a world made to cause the utmost of despair. The care and love, and how persistence can win out.

I also adore how you unabashedly show the killers how they are. They're human - the good ones still have their flaws. Susie is bratty, Joey indecisive, Philip self loathing. On the flip side horrible people can have desirable/good traits. The doctor is genius, the trapper unrelenting, the nightmare (fuck you freddy) creative.

The way the core facets of their personality stay the same no matter what is something so many people (myself included) can struggle with - you may want a character to act a certain way for the plot, but that is not how the character would act. The balancing act of telling a story that you want to portray vs the reality of characters being utmost true to themselves is a harsh one, but one you seamlessly pull off.

How you do things - the prose, the plot, the insights.. it really is like a movie. The emotional high and lows, dealing with such fantastical elements yet remaining so realistic, entrenching your reader so it feels like they are almost living in the characters skin, experiencing what they are. It's incredible dude. It's really, really fucking incredible.

I've only recently gotten back into playing DBD after like a 3 year break from the game, but i still use ILM as canon in my head. I think about how the new characters would fit in there, the dynamics, the jokes - Leon clinging to Tapp as a Familiar Figure (Older Cop), Vittorio depending on Adam to translate for him because while traversing the fog has taught him many things it has not granted him modern language proficiency and Adam is the only one who knows Latin, Feng getting to have a Jane Romero moment with Yun-Jin and Trickster (imagine Justin Timberblake killing you).

Or alternatively their grim faces at the news of certain peoples disappearance knowing that statistically it'll probably be okay - but fuck man, what if it's not? (Felix, Haddie, Mikaela, Zarina, and Nicolas Goddamn Cage would definitely be reported missing. I think the joke 'Nicolas Cage got taken by the entity' conspiracy theory unknowingly being 100% right is hilarious.)

This fic lives in my head rent free and has done so for years, and i cannot thank you enough for writing it. Sorry this is so long, i just really, really appreciate everything you've written and done.

So so extraordinarily sweet of you to say! I don’t know how to respond, except to say it means so much to me you feel that way and joke about it with your friends.

I’m deeply proud of that fic and my others and how they turned out, and that people found them meaningful. I’m a writer, so it’s always good to hear the works was, well, good. Well done. But it means even more to know they meant something to someone.

Also, ‘imagine Justin Timberlake killing you’ shot me like a lame horse absolutely losing it at the metaphor. 🤣 The survivors getting the experience Legion got running into Jane the first time (or, the ones from late enough to know him. Imagine being killed by Justin Timberlake while your best friend goes ‘Who?!??? That guy’s famous???’)

[mr-t-stark]

Magic. Right, that's a thing. Don't get him wrong; Tony's seen some pretty insane shit throughout his superheroing career. He's friends with Captain America, for god's sake. And the man's probably hundreds of years old or something.

But magic. He knows superhumans and mutants and the like exists, but teaming up with one is... Well. It's gonna take some time to wrap his head around it.

Tony's a man of science. He knows miracles don't exist and if they do, there's always a scientific explanation for them. The idea of magic simply existing goes against everything he's ever learned.

She can move objects. With her magic. That's practically breaking the laws of physics. He's never seen anything like it before. There's a spike of excitement and curiosity there. Perhaps a bit of disbelief, a smaller bit of skepticism.

"That's... fascinating," he says, honest. "Never heard of it. What's a sling ring anyway?" He's curious. He can't help it. Tony's always been curious in nature. He wants to see this magic in action. "How does it work? Are you channeling some kind of energy from that 'sling ring'? Where does it come from?"

It's odd to think there's always been a group of people with magical abilities just living underground without anyone's knowledge. There aren't any physical or digital trace of them, as far as Tony could find, so he supposes he can hear the answers straight from the horse's mouth.

"And you're saying there's a whole community of people with this ability?"

Tony hums when she mentions his newer projects and the change he's brought to SI. He nods slowly. "Yeah, well." He suppresses a wince at the mention of his father.

He remembers a missile, dropping right in front of his face. He remembers the way people had screamed and bled and fallen to the ground as the explosion sounded off. He remembers his name--which was his father's, and his father's father's, and his father's before that--written on it like a blame. A taunt.

"Yeah," Tony breathes in steadily. "It had to be done."

She attempts to tease him. He appreciates the change.

"Fury's our controlling manager that doesn't let us do shit," he retorts, a smirk sticking to each word.

He enters the floor to the lab, but is stopped at Ava's question. He raises a brow.

Two can play this game.

His teeth show when he grins. He tilts his head to the side, delicate and deliberate. He leans into her ear, just for the fun of it, whispers, "Eager now, aren't we?"

And then quickly pulls back. "No rules." He fixes his eyes on hers with intent. He turns to go down the lab, gesturing for her to follow.

"You coming?" he asks, sauntering over to the lab door.

"Welcome, sir." JARVIS greets him when he enters. "And nice to meet you, Ms. Thompson. I am Mr. Stark's computer system and artificial intelligence assistant."

"Hey, J. Just touring the newbie around. Why don't you take over?"

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS' voice answers from the ceiling. An area lights up to their left as the rest of the room grows dim, a hologram of the tower appearing mid-air, turning around in a circle. Lines and descriptions appear on each floor. "Upon entering you will be spoken and identified in the lobby. The Tower itself contains offices," the lower floor where they came from lit up, and the following floors followed suit as JARVIS continues. "The lab where you are standing, training areas and the gym, the party deck for private and recreational events and occasions, private living quarters with rooms designated for each of the Avengers, as well as the common area."

"Well," Tony says. "Looks like you've got all that covered. Thanks, J."

"Of course, sir. It is my pleasure."

Tony nods and turns to Ava. "So, would you want to check out the training area, or..." he lowers his voice at this, "Shall I take you to your private quarters should you want someplace with more... privacy?"

It's an open offer.

Well, Tony can agree on that. Certain team members need to pull the stick they've got shoved up their asses and loosen up a bit.

"Oh, I can show you some fun," he says, leading the way. He leads her down the long hallway, brushing past staff and workers alike, occasionally looking behind him or to the side to see if she's following.

"The suits?" He gives it some thought. "'Cause they're cool and I can use them to beat up bad guys." he decides to say, simply.

The suits were... Perhaps an obsession. Ever since Afghanistan, the suits felt like armour to him. He's seen the things SI's weapons could do; all of that was irreversible. But if he used his tech and inventions for good, to protect rather than destroy, then maybe he could make up for it. (Some part of him knows they never will, but it's easy to hope.)

He decides not to say any of that, however.

"The lower floors--we're in one right now--is where most of the missions and business shit happens. That, there--" he points to a room, "--is the room we keep all the mission reports and confidential documents. Authorised personnel only, blah blah blah. Rogers would probably take hours explaining that part but luckily for you, I'm not him."

He walks further down, explaining each office and each room briefly.

"I'll take you to the lab where me and Brucey-bear hang out. That's the green guy."

Once they reach the elevator, it dings open only moments after he presses the button.

"Ladies first," he says, hand gesturing towards the open doors.

[runnning-outof-time]

Come Back to Us | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: The Shelby family needed to move back to Small Heath after they were served a black hand by the Italian mafia. Already feeling on edge, (Y/N) only becomes more worried when her husband tells her that he's going to be lured into a trap and would need to fight his way out. All she wants is for him to come back to his family when it's all over.

Warnings: smoking, Season 4 spoilers (?)

Word Count: 3173

A/N: it was through writing this fic that I found I’m a sucker for dad!Tommy haha. Enjoy!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! - YOUR THOUGHTS & COMMENTS HELP ME WRITE!

Tommy paused at the door to his Small Heath home, exhaling a breath in order to collect himself before he faced his family. He ran a hand over his face and grabbed the doorknob, taking his peaked cap off as he stepped through the threshold. Immediately, he heard the sounds of children's laughter. (Y/N) must've been in the living room with the kids. He walked through the entryway and into the main room, his eyes falling on his family. Theodore and Delilah Shelby were both sitting on the floor, playing with wooden horses that had been in the Shelby family since Tommy was a child, and (Y/N) Shelby was sitting on the couch, engrossed in a book.

Tommy cleared his throat then, making the remaining three people in the room look in his direction simultaneously. "Dada!" the boy was the first to speak, jumping up from the ground and running over to his father.

"Hello, Theo," Tommy smiled, lifting the child up into his arms, allowing for the kid's small arms to wrap around his broad shoulders. He then bent down and scooped his waiting daughter up into his arms, "Lilah," he greeted her softly, pressing a kiss to each of the children's cheeks. His eyes met (Y/N)'s then, where she was looking over at him from the couch with a smile. The two kids were giggling messes as Tommy walked over to the couch and playfully dropped them down onto it, the both of them laughing loudly at the feeling it gave them.

"Again, dada! Again!" Delilah was the one to exclaim, Theo's cheers following close behind.

"Dad's gotta talk to your mum," Tommy addressed their requests, his eyes falling on (Y/N) once again. "We'll do it again before you two go to bed," he assured them then, making them nod before they clambered off of the couch to continue on with playing. "Hello, love," Tommy smiled at (Y/N) as he took the empty spot next to her. She smiled at him, dropping her book on her lap before she reached over to caress his cheek with her hand, moving in so that she was able to kiss his lips.

"Hi, Tommy. How are things?" she asked once she pulled away. She didn't know what else to call what he'd been out doing for the entirety of the day because he kept that knowledge to himself. He insisted that it was for the best for everyone involved. (Y/N) was used to it at this point. She'd lost track of the amount of time they'd been together - only knowing that they'd been married for four years. This was just how Tommy worked.

"Ok," he kept his statement brief, but (Y/N) knew there was more to it. She pursed her lips at him but he stayed quiet. She knew she'd get it out of him one way or another.

"Hungry?" she asked him, abandoning that topic completely...for now.

"No," he shook his head.

"I've still gotta make dinner though. These kids need to eat," she remarked, sighing slightly as she stood. "Do you think we could have brought our chef with us? I don't know if I remember my way around the kitchen."

"No one in Small Heath has a chef, (Y/N)," Tommy chuckled. She agreed with him, thinking back to the days when this was their main residence, and she'd try nightly to get him to eat some of her cooking. It wasn't that she was terrible at it...he'd just rather live off of cigarettes and whisky. Like he somehow did still to this day.

(Y/N) got to cooking then, watching on with a smile as Tommy started to play with his children, evening making ridiculous horse noises upon their request. It made her heart swell to watch him. Despite all of the stresses currently in his life, he still made time for his children, and he tried his hardest to keep their innocence intact.

"Food's done," (Y/N) announced after she finished setting the plates on the table. Theo stood from the ground and came over to his seat, and Tommy was following close behind with Delilah in his arms. He set her in her chair before taking his spot across the table from his wife. Food was put on the plates and he watched on as his family started to eat, opting to light a cigarette for himself.

After dinner, (Y/N) got busy with washing the dishes, leaving Tommy to occupy the kids until she was finished. Halfway through her chores, Tommy announced that he was taking the kids upstairs because they were starting to get fussy. She let him, continuing on with her task. Once she was finished, she ascended the stairs and walked down the hall to the room the kids were sleeping in. She heard their giggles from behind the closed door, and they put a smile on her face as she opened it to see Tommy in the process of lifting Theo so that he could drop him onto his bed.

"Alright, you three. Time for bed," she announced her presence, almost immediately making Theo whine in protest.

"Noo, mum...it's too early yet!" for a four year old, he was already getting the art of bargaining down. "Do it again, daddy!" he looked at Tommy then.

"Sorry, son. Mum's orders," Tommy shook his head at his son, pulling the covers to the bed back then. Theo frowned but listened to his father, going under the covers with a huff. Meanwhile, (Y/N) was busy putting Delilah into the small wooden crib that was sitting across from Theo's bed. She was two, which meant she was still too young to have a bed of her own. "Goodnight, princess," Tommy stated as he came over to his daughter, allowing (Y/N) to swap with him and go over to her son. After giving both of the kids kisses and saying their goodnights, Tommy and (Y/N) left the room, making sure to leave the small lamp on the dresser on as a nightlight.

"Hungry?" (Y/N) dared to ask again, peering up at Tommy as they walked down the hall.

"No. Just want to go to bed," Tommy responded, shaking his head.

"You're gonna get weak, Tom. Not eating and drinking too much booze," she reprimanded him softly.

"I'm alright, love," he assured her, making her sigh as they both entered their old bedroom.

So many memories were held within these four walls. Their first time together, the countless nightmares that (Y/N) managed to pull Tommy from, it was even where Tommy asked her to marry him. They'd just had a fight about the business or whatever ((Y/N) had long forgotten), and Tommy thought he'd lose her. He dropped to his knees and practically begged her to marry him. This was totally out of character for the idea of 'Thomas Shelby' that the people of Birmingham had thought up in their heads, but in (Y/N)'s eyes, this was her Tommy. He wasn't afraid to show his feelings back then, but as the years went on and the scores became bigger, he grew more distant with that part of himself.

(Y/N) moved to the wardrobe, pulling out the night gown that she planned on wearing before she went through the motions of stripping and putting it on. She looked to Tommy then, who was sitting on the chair in the corner with a cigarette hanging between his lips as he held his head in his hands. "What's going on, Tommy?" she questioned, not beating around the bush.

"Huh?" she must have pulled him out of his thoughts, because he looked up at her like he had not a clue what had been said.

"What's on your mind?" she re-asked the question, moving closer to him then, resting herself against the footboard of the bed. He sighed and shook his head, his way of brushing her question off. "No, Tommy. Tell me," she just about demanded, "something's going on. You're alright around the kids but you turn back into your brooding self the second they're out of the room. Tell me what it is, Tom," she went off, unhappy that he was holding this from her.

"I don't want to scare you, alright?" he mumbled to the floorboards, plucking the cigarette from his lips before he ran a hand through his hair.

"What?" she coaxed him to speak to her.

"I don't want to scare you...or the kids, eh? Information has fallen into my lap, and I don't want to scare you or the kids," he told her, his eyes widened slightly, indicating that whatever this information was, it was serious.

"Well what is it, Tommy?" she asked, her tone softer now as she became worried.

He took a deep breath and licked his lips, looking around the room as he struggled to decide whether he should tell her or not. She was looking at him insistently, and eventually, it was that that made his decision for him. "I have gotten word that Luca Changretta and his men are planning to ambush me. At Artillery Square. They're going to follow me there and make an attempt to kill me," he told her, not withholding any details.

Her stomach dropped at his words, but she tried to keep her composure. "But you know about it. You know about it and you're not gonna let that happen, right?" she tried to keep her voice steady, but Tommy knew her better than that.

He stood from the chair, stepping around her to the bedside table so that he could snuff out the cigarette before he moved back over to (Y/N). He took hold of her shaking shoulders and brought her up to stand, so that she was now only a few inches shorter than him. "I do know about it. I'm gonna do everything in my power not to let it happen, eh?" he told her, his eyes locked with hers as he spoke. Showing her that he was being honest.

"Oh, Tommy..." she whispered, letting her strong front crumble as she fell into his chest. After all these years, she still couldn't get used to this... get used to her husband being a target.

"It's alright, love," he told her, running his hands up and down her back comfortingly. "Hey...it's gonna be ok," he said then, taking her cheeks into his hands so that she would look up at him. "Everything's gonna be ok," he assured her, honesty in his eyes as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. He held her there, kissing her passionately as she gripped onto the material of his waistcoat. Holding onto him helped to ground her.

"Mummy? Daddy?" a soft voice came from their doorway. (Y/N) suggested they slept with the door open so that they could hear the kids' cries if they needed to.

Tommy and (Y/N) split apart, and Tommy dropped his hands from her face to her arms as they turned their heads to look at Theo. He was standing, clutching his stuffed animal as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. "What's wrong, son?" Tommy asked, not removing his hands from (Y/N) yet.

"Why's mummy crying?" Theo asked, his eyes falling on his mother, whose eyes were visibly watering. (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh, breaking away from her husband so that she could sit on the bed.

"Mummy's just upset. Daddy told her something that she didn't like," Tommy was transparent with his son, although he didn't go into detail.

"Why did you make her upset?" Theo questioned, his eyebrows furrowed as Tommy came to crouch down next to him.

"It's adult business, son. Kids your age should be sleeping right now," he reminded him, ruffling the child's hair.

"I couldn't sleep, dad," he admitted, hugging his stuffed bear closer. "Can I sleep with you and mum?"

Tommy turned to look at (Y/N) before he gave his response. She only nodded slightly. "Yes, you can," he nodded to the child, who smiled at the answer.

"Thanks, dad," he chirped, hugging his father before he moved to where (Y/N) was. She smiled at the boy before he climbed into the bed, moving all the way over to the wall. (Y/N) got in after him, giving the child a hug before she turned to look at Tommy. "Come to bed, dad," Theo called, making Tommy chuckle and strip down to his boxers before he moved under the covers next to (Y/N).

They had just settled in when the sound of Delilah's cries pierced through the silence. "Tommy...I can't. Theo's in my arms," (Y/N) stated. Tommy wordlessly nodded his head, throwing the covers to the side before he got off the bed and exited the room, walking down the hall to the kids’ room. The door was open from when Theo left, and that must have made the room colder enough for Delilah to notice. She was standing in the crib with her arms outstretched, wailing at the top of her lungs when Tommy entered the room.

"Shhh, love...it's ok," he cooed softly to her, lifting her into his arms and holding her close to him. She was still crying, but the loudness of them had died down slightly. Tommy rocked her softly before he left the room and re-entered his. He set his daughter down next to (Y/N), so that she was now sandwiched in between the two children, before he joined them in bed.

It was a tight squeeze with the four of them all together. The full-sized bed here was much smaller than the king-sized one they had back at Arrow House. Tommy couldn't help but chuckle as he laid on his side facing his wife and children. This was the only way he was able to lay. His daughter was pressed up against his stomach as she slipped back into sleep, and Theo was practically on top of (Y/N), where she was laying on her back. "It's much harder to do this here," he remarked after both of the kids had settled and their soft snores could be heard. He didn't even know if (Y/N) was still awake.

"I know. But we'll be back home in no time," (Y/N)'s voice came out in a whisper. Tommy smiled at her use of words. Small Heath wasn't home anymore. Well, technically it was in the sense that both (Y/N) and Tommy had grown up and found each other in the city, but it wasn't home for them now. Home was in Warwickshire, where they'd been living for almost four years now, where their children were born and grew up.

"We will be," Tommy spoke after a few moments had passed. He let out a breath as he felt (Y/N)'s hand blindly find its way to his hair, and she ran her fingers through it soothingly.

"Just come back to us, Tommy," she told him, and he caught her eyes in the dark from where she was laying. He didn't say anything in response. He couldn't. He couldn't promise her that he'd get out of this alive. So instead, he removed her hand from his locks and he kissed her knuckles, hoping that it would convey to her what he was thinking. (Y/N) understood it fully.

(Y/N) was shaking with worry. It was nearing the end of the day now and Tommy hadn't returned. He said that he was going to see Michael, who was still in the hospital, and that that was surely where Changretta and his men would follow him from. The breath got caught in her throat each time she heard a copper's whistle. She knew that they wouldn't be blowing it if they were coming to deliver her terrible news, but she couldn't stop her body from involuntarily reacting that way.

Tommy was tired. His hair was a mes, his clothing askew. The position of power he held within this city was the only thing that stopped the looks he should be getting as he walked from the garage to his home on Watery Lane. He, once again, took a deep breath before grabbing the doorknob and entering the house.

(Y/N)'s breath hitched. She wasn't thinking realistically. Coppers wouldn't just come right into your house to tell you your husband's dead, right? Surely they'd knock first. She was hesitant to look to her left when she heard footsteps approaching the main room. Theo was to her right, sleeping with his head resting on her thigh, and Delilah was on the floor, playing with a doll they'd brought along with them.

"(Y/N)," Tommy's voice was hoarse, the stress he held shining through even though he'd only uttered one word. His voice made her head snap in his direction, her jaw just about dropping onto her lap. He looked like he'd been put through the ringer, but he was alive...and standing right in front of her.

She carefully moved her son's head down to the couch and stood up, dashing over to where he was still standing. She had tears in her eyes as she grabbed hold of his face, her eyes matching his before she stood on her toes and pressed their lips together. She kissed him passionately, all of the things she wanted to say coming through in the connection. "I...I thought you were dead, Tommy. You've been out so late," she whispered against his lips, only removing her hand from his face to swipe away the tears that had fallen.

"I'm right here, love," he told her, holding onto her waist tightly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him even closer to her. Tommy looked over her shoulder as she hugged him, his eyes falling on his sleeping son and his daughter, who was sitting on the floor staring up at the two of them.

"What happened? Did you kill Changretta?" she asked once she pulled back from him. She searched his eyes as he chuckled, probably at how effortlessly she'd used those words.

"No, I didn't," he shook his head slightly. “I killed a few of his men but the coppers came before I could get to him.”

She stared into his eyes again, unable to think of words to say. She kept looking at him as the tears that were welled up in her eyes rolled down her cheeks. Tommy smiled at her slightly, leaning in to kiss the droplets of water away from her skin. She closed her eyes, reveling in the closeness of him. She was content now that he was home again. She didn’t know what tomorrow could bring, and she didn’t want to think about it. He came back to them, that was all that mattered.

Tagged: @alreadybroken-ts @magicalxdaydream @the-anxious-youth

MASTERLIST

[flowercrown-bard]

I was today years old when I found out that cornflowers can also be white/purple and pink.

My first instinct was to never refer to Jaskier’s eyes as being the colour of cornflowers again. My second instinct was to write this instead:

Soulmate AU

word count: ~3k

pairing: Geraskier

Content warnings: blood, injuries

The Colour of Cornflowers

Jaskier’s eyes were the colour of the sky, of the sea, of sapphires. At least that was what people said, when they tried and often succeeded in wooing Jaskier. People who had been lucky enough to have found their soulmates and foolish enough to risk that happiness for a bard who would leave them come the morning.

Geralt would never understand those people. They had something so precious, so special and they were willing to throw it away for a pretty pair of eyes.

Geralt never understood those comparisons to sky, sea and sapphire either, and not only just because he had never seen the colour of either of those things. They just sounded so… cliché. As if someone tried painfully hard to sound like a poet. And didn’t the sky change colour during the dawn or at night? Did every body of water have the same colour? And didn’t some lord or another once proudly present his differently coloured sapphires, knowing full well that Geralt wasn’t able to distinguish between them anyway?

And he never would. It wasn’t uncommon for people to never see the world in colour – soulmates were rare and it wasn’t unheard of that some people lost all sight of colour after rejecting their soulmates for whatever reason.

But all of those people could at least still hope to have the world burst into colour at some point in their lives. Unlike Geralt.

“It is a mercy,” Vesemir had said when he had explained to the frightened boys that would become witchers or die in the trials that they would lose the ability to ever find their soulmates, “that you won’t have to go through that. You won’t get distracted by searching for them. And you won’t get your hearts broken.”

Because even then, Vesemir hadn’t made them believe what everyone else accepted as fact: That witchers didn’t feel, didn’t love.

Vesemir had known better. And he had known that that didn’t change a damn thing. A witcher would fall in love all he wanted, no one would ever accept a witcher’s love.

When Geralt had been younger, he had told himself he would be different. He had thought himself a knight that would one day rescue a damsel or meet a stable boy who loved horses as much as he did. He had thought they might fall in love – for who wouldn’t want to love a hero? – and they would be happy together, Destiny and soulmates be damned.

And then he had saved his first damsel. When she had seen his face, she had screamed and vomited and passed out. And Geralt for the first time understood what Vesemir had meant when he had said it was a mercy not knowing one’s soulmate.

Whoever was cursed to be a witcher’s soulmate, they would draw back in horror once they saw the sickly yellow of their eyes – at least that was how Geralt’s eyes had been described to him – and they would reek of fear rather than of love when they realised just whom Destiny had bound them to.

No human should have to get punished with such a fate. And Geralt knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from shattering if he ever saw disgust on his soulmate’s face.

So it was better that he would never know if he ever met them. It was better that he would never see the colour of Jaskier’s eyes.

He didn’t need to anyway. People never shut up about them, after all.

Between all of those descriptions that made Geralt want to roll his eyes, there was one that somehow got stuck in his mind, no matter how he wanted to shake it off.

Cornflowers.

For some reason it sounded right. Geralt was sure a poet, or even just about any man who was better with words than him, would be able to create a beautiful and meaningful connection between Jaskier and the preciousness of gems, the ever-moving sea or the freedom of the sky or other such sappy nonsense.

But cornflowers…Jaskier had named himself after a flower, hadn’t he? And cornflowers weren’t so different from buttercups. He had heard farmers complain about them, about how difficult they were to get rid of once they had started sprouting in their fields.

Geralt’s lips had twitched upwards when he had heard that and looked at Jaskier who had returned his side-eye with a cheeky wink, as if he knew exactly that Geralt was thinking about the way Jaskier had attached himself to Geralt no matter how hard he had tried to prevent that.

He tried no longer.

He had grown used to Jaskier’s presence. No, it was more than that. He had gotten to appreciate it. To enjoy the humming and chattering. To relish in the feeling of Jaskier running his fingers through Geralt’s hair. To feel his stomach twist in anticipation when he saw Jaskier again after months spent apart.

And when they were apart, Geralt found himself looking at cornflowers, unable to stop his lips from twitching into a soft smile. He might not be able to see their colour and never would, but that didn’t change the fact that they reminded him of Jaskier and of how he hadn’t drawn back in disgust or flinch from his touch even once.

Of course it helped that Jaskier had never seen his eyes in colour either. He couldn’t have. Because if he did, then surely he would have reacted in some way. No one, not even Jaskier was that good an actor.

True, his songs about Geralt often featured descriptions of his eyes – of honey, gold and sunflowers – but Geralt didn’t need to see colours to know that those descriptions were ludicrous. Predatory, sickly, creepy. That was how his eyes were normally described. Jaskier must have just heard the word ‘yellow’ and then asked other people for other, more pleasant things of the same colour. For surely, no one who had ever seen his eyes as they really were would think of something so kind that the first time Geralt had heard it, he had to leave the room for he was sure that he wasn’t able to keep the fondness and admiration he felt in that moment out of his eyes.

Fleeing hadn’t helped, of course. Jaskier didn’t need to sing of honey-eyes or silver moonlight-hair to make Geralt’s chest clench and his fingers itch to reach out and pull Jaskier close.

A single smile from him was enough. A quiet moment shared by a fire. Laughter and bad jokes as they travelled side by side.

Witchers could love and in those moments, Geralt was more thankful that fact than he had ever been for anything else. Loving Jaskier was beautiful.

And it was the most painful and terrifying thing Geralt could imagine.

Never in his life had Geralt been as scared as he had been when he had seen Jaskier run towards him while he was in the middle of a fight. For a terrifying moment, when the griffin’s talons had hit their mark and torn deep gashes into Jaskier’s chest, he had thought this was it. This was how Jaskier died. Because of him.

But as Geralt had dropped to his knees next to him, pressing his hands against the wounds and pleading with Jaskier to stay with him, Jaskier hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t yelled at him or tried to evade his touch. Instead he had lifted one of Geralt’s hands to his lips and pressed a soft kiss against it, heedless of the blood sticking to them.

Jaskier’s eyes had fallen shut and Geralt’s blood had run cold.

His eyes had opened again, later, when Geralt had bandaged up his wounds and brushed his hair out of his forehead tenderly, the same way Jaskier sometimes did with Geralt’s hair when he woke up, drenched in sweat and with his heart racing from a nightmare about the trials, about the day he had lost all hope of ever finding his soulmate.

When Jaskier’s eyes had fluttered open and his face had broken into a smile so soft as if Geralt was the most beautiful sight Jaskier could imagine, Geralt had known. He could never let something like this happen again. As long as Jaskier was with Geralt, he was in danger.

But Geralt had also known that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of Jaskier – neither would he be strong enough to push him away, nor would Jaskier ever willingly go.

Not until Geralt did the unthinkable. Through friendship, through deadly injuries and insults being spat at them, Jaskier stayed with Geralt. But even he had his limits. Even he wouldn’t be able to stay with a witcher, knowing he was loved by him. By a mutant, monster, butcher.

Geralt knew it, the world knew it and surely Jaskier himself knew it too: Jaskier deserved better than someone like him, better than being loved by someone like him. Confessing his feelings to Jaskier would be the last straw that would finally make Jaskier act upon this knowledge and go find someone good enough for him. Someone who wouldn’t put him in danger. Perhaps even someone who could tell Jaskier that his eyes looked like cornflowers and see it too.

Geralt knew that saying the words would irrevocably drive Jaskier from his side. He knew the moment of rejection and disgust would forever be branded in his mind. It would be the thing Geralt would remember when he got injured on a hunt while knowing that Jaskier wouldn’t be waiting for him with a worried look and tender touches.

And yet. Geralt couldn’t bring himself to just say it. He only got one chance to tell Jaskier how he felt, and although it would end in Geralt being shattered and alone, he wanted to relish the moment, the chance to let himself believe for even just a moment that Jaskier wouldn’t push himself away.

So Geralt waited and planned. A part of him knew that he was selfish, that he was only drawing this out so that he would get to keep Jaskier by his side a little longer. Another part of him wanted it to be perfect. He wanted Jaskier to think back to Geralt and remember someone who had tried despite everything to give Jaskier a confession that he deserved.

Except, Geralt wouldn’t ever be able to give such a thing to Jaskier. He wasn’t good enough for him and neither would anything he could ever give him be.

He didn’t have poetic words or grand gestures.

A simple gesture would have to be enough. Maybe it would even help to make Jaskier leave.

It was pure coincidence that they passed the field that day. Jaskier’s hair was lighter than normal in the sun and his smile was bright and easy. Geralt let himself look at him like this one last time. Jaskier was beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like Geralt.

Geralt shouldn’t get to keep him. He had to do it. Now.

Taking a shaking breath and clenching his jaw as if that would stop his hands from trembling, he bent down and plucked the cornflowers right out of the field.

To Geralt they were different shades of grey, ranging from almost white to dark grey, but to anyone else, they would be blue. Like Jaskier’s eyes.

As much as Geralt had always told himself that it was a good thing that he wasn’t Jaskier’s soulmate, he now wished more than anything, that he would have gotten to see the colour of Jaskier’s. He didn’t need to see the world in colour. Knowing blue would have been enough.  Then he would have more than grey flowers to remind himself of Jaskier when he was gone.

“Jaskier.” His voice came out slightly hoarse and he had to clear his throat.

It was of no use. As soon as Jaskier turned around and laid eyes on the flowers Geralt held out to him, his throat tightened again.

At the same time, Jaskier’s eyes darted between the flowers and Geralt’s face, searching for something, looking almost achingly hopeful. Though for what, Geralt couldn’t tell. Perhaps Jaskier was for once silently pleading Geralt not to continue talking.

He did it anyway.

“Jaskier, I…these are for you.”

He took a step closer to Jaskier, half-expecting him to draw back. Instead Jaskier too came towards him with hesitant wonder in his eyes and took the flowers from Geralt’s hands. Their fingers brushed and the simple touch sent a jolt through Geralt. This would be the last time he would ever get to feel Jaskier’s skin against his.

“Geralt.” Jaskier sounded choked and there was a watery shine to his eyes that made Geralt’s chest tight and his now empty hands ball helplessly into fists. “Those are beautiful.”

“Like you,” Geralt said, before he had time to think and swallow the words. “Like your eyes. They – cornflowers. They look like your eyes.”

Jaskier stared at him for a long moment but he didn’t move. Geralt knew he had to say more, had to get Jaskier to turn tail and leave Geralt behind, but the words got stuck in his throat and burned like shards of glass cutting into him.

Still, as the moment dragged on, it seemed that Geralt didn’t need to say anything else. Jaskier let out a strangled sound, clearly supressing something else. Not for long, though. Not a heartbeat later, a laugh tumbled from Jaskier’s lips and once that first chuckle was out, he wouldn’t stop himself.

Ice pierced Geralt’s heart and he had to look away. For the first time he couldn’t bear to look at the way Jaskier’s face lit up as he laughed. He should have known. Jaskier was kind, but he was also expressive beyond believe. Geralt had no doubt that he would have tried to let him down gently, but it seemed that the idea of a witcher trying to be romantic was too ridiculous for even Jaskier to keep his composure.

“Oh, oh Geralt,” Jaskier said in between laughs, gasping for air and wiping away tears that had spilt free with his free hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know I shouldn’t laugh. You’re being very sweet, it’s just-“

“I know. You don’t need to say it. I know.” Geralt interrupted, suddenly desperate not to have Jaskier say it out loud. Seeing him leave was one thing. He could still pretend that it was no different than when they separated for the winter. But hearing Jaskier outright tell him that Geralt’s feelings were a joke to him – Geralt wouldn’t be able to bear it, to have these words join the ones of hatred and disdain that he remembered whenever he lay awake at night, kept awake by self-doubt and shame.  

“Oh, I don’t think you do,” Jaskier said and his smile didn’t falter, as if he wasn’t tearing Geralt’s heart out with it. “It’s just…Geralt, I know you can’t know this, but…my eyes are blue.”

“I do know.”

“Yes, well, but these flowers aren’t. They are lovely, of course, but this one for example is very clearly pink.” He tilted his head to the side like a bird as he looked at Geralt with mirth in his eyes. “You know, it’s almost the same colour your cheeks get sometimes when I sing about you.”

A painful spike shot through his heart. The flowers weren’t blue. The one thing he had known to do to try his hand at a romantic, albeit simple gesture and he had messed it up. Of course he wouldn’t be able to do even such a simple thing. Of course Jaskier would –

His thoughts came to a screeching halt and his eyes widened as the full meaning of Jaskier’s words came crashing down on him.

The flowers were pink. Jaskier knew, he saw, that they were pink.

“You can see colours.” He had meant for it to be a question, but it came out as a bitter truth.

Jaskier’s cheeks darkened. “I…yes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to find out.”

“Why-how long?”

Jaskier swallowed nervously and his eyes darted away for a second, before finding Geralt’s again, pleading and scared. He clutched the flowers to his chest as if he feared Geralt would tear them off his hands.

“You know how long,” he said softly, almost apologetic. “Ever since I first saw you.”

“No.” Geralt shook his head. This wasn’t- this couldn’t be. He had expected Jaskier to flee from him, to tell him that he didn’t feel the same way. He had never expected him to be cruel. “No, you don’t – You can’t be. I can’t be.”

“I’m sorry.” The apology tumbled out of Jaskier’s mouth fast enough to slur the words together and his hand shot out to seize Geralt by the wrist. The touch burned him even through his clothes. “I know you don’t like Destiny. I never should have said… I don’t want you to force you into this. You must believe me.”

Geralt’s mind went blank. It almost sounded…he shouldn’t be foolish enough to believe this. He shouldn’t feel hope burning in his chest, but the way Jaskier said it….it didn’t sound as if he himself hated the idea of being soulmates with a witcher.

“You wanted me to choose you?” Geralt asked bewildered, still unable to comprehend.

Jaskier’s eyes softened and his smile turned into something bittersweet. “That was all I had ever wanted. I always thought you wouldn’t, but now…Please don’t take this back. Don’t tell me this isn’t what you chose, just because it’s the choice Destiny wanted you to make.”

Geralt’s brows drew together. “I couldn’t care less what Destiny wants me to do.”

Jaskier’s face fell when Geralt pulled his wrist out of his grip. After a moment of hesitation, Geralt lifted his now free hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

Jaskier let out a soft gasp, before leaning into the touch with an unknown desperation.

“I choose you,” Geralt said, his fingers caressing Jaskier’s skin. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jaskier said urgently. “I would choose you time and time again, whether Destiny wanted me to or not.”

Geralt’s throat went tight once more. “You know I can’t see colours. You know I won’t ever be able to compare your eyes to something and know it’s what they look like.” His gaze dropped to the flowers in Jaskier’s hand. “I can’t give you flowers the right colour.”

Jaskier let out a watery laugh. He turned his head and kissed the palm of Geralt’s hand, before taking one of the flowers – perhaps a pink one, perhaps one of a different colour entirely – out of the posy and tucked it behind Geralt’s ear.

“It doesn’t matter. The colour never mattered. They are beautiful. Because they come from you.”

“You are beautiful,” Geralt echoed. “Because you are you. Colour or no.”

His hand trailed down until he was gently holding his chin, titling his head up ever so slightly.

“Jaskier?” he asked, one last hesitation, one last chance for Jaskier to choose to take his words back.

Jaskier made his choice.

He leaned forward and pressed their lips into a soft kiss.

Geralt had always known that loving Jaskier was beautiful, but in this moment Geralt learned for the first time, that nothing, no flowers and no colours could ever be as beautiful as it was being loved by Jaskier.

[randomwriteronline]

AAAA IM GLAD U ENJOEYED i have Not explained some things bc im a forgetful bitch but i can do it now

SO ABOUT THE METRU-MATA THING. its all very nebulous ill admit i havent thought of this part much, but the metru called the mata BECAUSE shit was going down and they realized they couldnt handle it by themselves, esp after Lhikan's death. we're just a bunch of were-teens who are down one mom, we cant possibly save the world! only after actually contacting the mata through their trance did they realize "oh wait these fabled legendary warriors are like Literally Clueless and almost childlike in their ignorance of how to exist and live. ok change of plans lets get them ready to Be People before they end up fucking up" which IN TURN makes the mata think "oooh these must be the Previous Toa, our Proper Predecessors, definitely we are Part Of A Long Line Of Warriors" and becomes the reason why they take the mahri later as novice toa

slight problem is, the mata Dont Fucking Know where the metru did the ritual to call them and were specifically instructed by the metru to focus first on the crisis and only AFTERWARDS go looking for them. the mahri COULD have handled it after the mata had been sent back, which would have happened immediately after fullfilling their duty anyways ala journey to one finale, but they were sort of in the middle of keeping a whole ring shaped city from collapsing with all of its inhabitants and also using every ounce of their elemental powers to turn everybody including themselves amphibious once it became clear that they werent going to be able to avoid being pulled into the fucking sea. they have NO clue how they managed that and frankly they dont care to find out. you dont look a gift horse in the mouth and such

the site the metru were petrified in got buried in the ensuing geological disaster and Krika spent these past few hundreds of years searching desperately for them to no avail bc shes their other mom and her last non-petrified son (jaller) just got slorped by the ocean and also the rest of her family is mad at her for deserting them for a grizzled lesbian n her six teen kids so. shes alone

BACK TO THE MATA GETTING SUCKED INTO THE SKY AGAIN. THAT WAS A VERY UNFORTUNATE WHOOPSIE. bc they thought FUCK the twelve of us are having TROUBLE if only we had our Totally Definitely Veteran Predecessors here. OH WAIT WE CAN ASK THE GREAT SPIRIT TO FREE THEM DUH HES A GOD and so they tried to do that, but the fucking problem. the problem. its that this was interpreted by the forces beyond them at large like a manual reset. it was interpreted as Our Job Is Done Pls Come Pick Us Up. this is also the first time in their millenia of existing and saving okoto that they realized they were going to get their memories erased and tried to fight back to no avail, specifically bc 1) MY FUCKING SIBLINGS and 2) THE MAHRI NEED OUR HELP

im glad Whenua being over the moon about seeing Onua was cute :) btw i omitted the fact that after he realizes the amnesia he starts going down a panicked spiral and thinks for a moment that the other metru fucking died and hes the only survivor :)

i also omitted that Krika jumps them and gives them the worlds most tearful tongue bath when she sees them all again for the first time bc HER CHILDREN HER CHILDREN THEYRE HERE AGAIN

but yeah both them and the mahri will have to catch up. thats what the chronicler's company is here for lol

your idea of the metru talking to the mata in their heads is cool but unfortunately i dont think its feasible literally - but i can see them repeating maybe mantras or knowledge that the metru taught them in their specific fields of expertise but that make little sense for the mata to know otherwise, and it all makes sense much later

uhhhhh thats all i think!! hopefully!!

Hello! This is my main blog! (I'm legend-as-old-as-time.)

So, I've got a favorite. But the other two AUs also fascinate me. I'd love to know what the story is for your G3 of Bionicle? What's the atmosphere like?

BLASTS MY THOUGHTS DIRECTLY INTO YOUR BRAIN TO EXPLAIN THEM FASTER AND POSSIBLY BETTER THAN THROUGH WORDS

as mentioned i have a post in drafts thats meant to be like. a vague skeleton of thoughts and ideas and shit that ive talked about to and with @cantankerouscanuck, mainly introducing the various character groups n the environment slightly, but it does NOT touch on the story much (more the backstory and again only vaguely) so GREAT QUESTION LET ME TELL YOU

thinking of like uhhhh diving this in like. cartoon seasons but old school ones yknow, so LONG ones bc oh boy ADVENTURES

Season 1 starts with that Classic Bionicle Beginning of the toa mata crashlanding on the archipelago of Okoto each on a different island not knowing what the Fuck to do and being welcomed in the villages. like in g2 theyre first tasked with finding some golden relics but instead of being accompanied by the protectors/village elders they go with the local Weird Kids (the chronicler's company) who were the first people they actually met; getting the things lets them reach the island of the mask makers and meet Ekimu (and takua!!!! his apprentice!!!!!!!) and theyre like "so what do we do with these btw" and ekimu looks at the pieces and goes. FUCK

TURNS OUT THOSE RELICS WERE SUPPOSED TO BE GOLDEN MASKS BUT SOME MF JUST BROKE THEM INTO PIECES and wouldnt you fucking believe it it was the Children Of Makuta, the spirit of death and animals and darkness, who live each on one of the islands except spiriah the baby of the family who roams around bothering literally everybody and ofc dont want the toa to reawaken the Great Spirit whom their parent put to sleep, AND SO BEGINS THE FETCH QUEST OF THE OTHER FIVE PIECES OF EACH MASK WHILE FIGHTING OFF THESE FREAKS OF NATURE WHO ARE TRYING TO EAT THEM AND BUILDING CONNECTIONS BETWEEN THEMSELVES & EKIMU & TAKUA N HIS POSSE & THE VILLAGERS AND SLOWLY BECOMING A PROPER TEAM N FAMILY which is why they need to be many episodes. i will fucking recreate almost verbatim the tale of the mask kopaka-pohatu story because its already perfect and you will Fucking See It if i have to Kill For It

closes off with a cliffhanger after getting all the masks: during an ambush by Mutran Gali gets dragged off into the sea between the islands to get crushed by the water pressure but whats this??, the pressure suddenly lifts enough to let her breathe as she loses consciousness while strange silhouettes drive off the child of Makuta and catch her in his stead, sinking deeper...

S2 starts off by quickly catching up to the rest of the toa who are SHITTING THEIR FUCKING SELVES ABOUT THEIR WATER-BREATHING SISTER APPARENTLY DROWNING BEFORE THEM

tahu and pohatu decide to look for her in a ball of tempered glass while kopaka, onua and lewa hurry back to ekimu to tell him what happened. back to gali, she awakens to a bunch of... toa???? who know her and her brothers???? personally, apparently????? three of them are like super mad at them for leaving them during their time of need??????? what the FUCK are you people talking about. who are u. how are you breathing under water. why is tHERE A WHOLE FUCKING CITY UNDER THE WATER-

ENTER: THE TOA MAHRI. as it slowly turns out inbetween rounds of beating the shit out of sapient polyamorous seafood that keeps trying to nibble the villagers and the air bubble domes for their crops, they were TRAINED by the mata a few hundreds years ago and were fighting off the cataclysm that broke the continent of okoto into islands and sunk the city of Iniri into the sea together with them before they just Fucking Left, Apparently - which ofc they didnt do for no reason but they essentially got shoved back into the stars against their will. this rightfully rattles the shit out of the mata because What Do You Mean We Have Been Here Before. What Do You Mean You Had Records Of Us Being Here Even Earlier Than That. How Many Times Have We Done This. How Many Times Have We Discovered Kinship And Affection And Had That Stripped Away From Us. I Think I'm Going To Throw Up

while theyre handling THAT they also fill in the mahri on whats been going on and the mahri go oh shit, the great spirit is in a coma and the children of makuta are against you??? bro those guys are super powerful theyve got Crabs, you cant fight em alone. but also if we try to leave the sea the water pressure Will Fucking Destroy Us, so they figure out a way to get out of there and back up and jaller is super anxious bc his mom might be there but like... based on what they said... she might be evil... he doesnt wanna fight her... shes the only family he still has...

S3 AND WE GO BACK TO SEE WHAT KOPAKA ONUA AND LEWA ARE DOING, and theyre off searching the more ruined parts of the city of the mask makers on takua's suggestion - these are the parts of the city that werent very lucky during the cataclysm and are now sacred ground prowled by Krika, daughter of Makuta

at last they find a strange underground chamber with six breathing statues, which, of course, freaky; they manage to thaw one and out tumbles a toa (?) who immediately recognizes onua and starts talking to him excitedly (??) saying that its so good to see him in person for the first time (???) and asking him about the continent (????) and being genuinely distraught that they dont know who he is. same reactions from the other five toa that also get thawed out. ok something is Clearly Amiss pls explain

its time for LOMN...... 2!!!!!! where we learn from vakama abt how Lhikan, who previously filled in ekimu's position, finds out theres Some Shit going down with the great spirit and makuta and tries to call the mata, who however get stuck due to the aformentioned Some Shit. as such she picks out six lads in the city of the mask makers and bestows masks upon them to make them become toa, but on their way to handle the current problem they get werebeast'd and Krika goes oh? free kids? free kids for me? and Lhikan goes NO but its too late. they already have joint custody of the metru. and might be blossoming a lesbian romance but unfortunately due to lhikan being lhikan i have to kill her to protect vakama, leaving krika with him AND his little brother jaller who will inherit lhikan's mask. the metru figure out the way to get the mata in this case is to attempt to contact them themselves, which they manage to do by entering a trance that however slowly turns them into statues: in this trance they are able to speak and train the mata, who also promise to free them once the whole situation is handled

CONSIDERING THE CATACLYSM HAPPENED AND THEY GOT SHOT BACK IN THE SKY AND GOT AMNESIA YOU CAN UNDERSTAND THAT PROMISE KIND OF WENT TO SHIT

anyways thats A Lot as you can imagine and the time to process it is Not Much bc the other three mata and the mahri are here and (after a round of MASSIVE HUGS for the metru and mahri reuniting and also the metru and Krika) theyve got a plan to beat the shit out of makuta

problem: the children of makuta have realized this is happening and decided to break out The Crabs to beat the shit out of THEM

mahri, metru and krika (and the chronicler's company much to everybody else's heart attacks) hold them off while the mata manage to fight against makuta after being briefly overwhelmed, uniting their powers to uh. Kill Him. which! IS NOT ACTUALLY GOOD. YOU KNOW. BALANCE AND ALL THAT. makuta is saved in the end by The Great Fucking Spirit who wakes up just in time to stop the mata before they murder his brother

the mata awaken before the Great Spirit and after a moment of "where are we? who are you? why didn't you let us kill makuta?" and getting their answers, they realize OH FUCK ARE YOU GOING TO PUT US IN THE STARS AGAIN? AND GIVE US AMNESIA? FUCK YOU YOURE NOT TAKING OUR FRIENDS AND SIBLINGS FROM US

Great Spirit, lovingly: ok :)

and tahu wakes up to ekimu working at the forge and none of his siblings around and he Shits His Pants, but ekimu quickly reassures him that everythings good and its been like, maybe a day or two since they managed to reawaken the Great Spirit. his siblings woke up before him and are probably down at the beach, and Makuta got driven off, all of his children following suit to take care of him, krika included. the mahri and the metru are catching up on the mata's tales from the chronicler's company. things are fine. they wont be like this forever, ekimu tells tahu, but they dont have to live in fear every second of their lives. rest a while. go see your siblings.

and it ends with the mata having a very sweet nap pile on the beach because they FUCKING deserve it after TWO whole generations ending with them not getting to just fucking sleep after EVERYTHING THEY GO THROUGH EVERY TIME

as you can see i have. Enormous Holes in this and theres things i havent explained and stuff (like how i unfortunately had to sacrifice hewkii x macku due to a Very Big age difference but they are still a power pair, just in this case its like older cousin acting as a mentor to the worlds most bloodthirsty weird little girl) but yes. have this. for now. please keep asking questions i love you

[onesunofagun]

I shall now yell about Ingo, please stand by:

Ingo’s transformation from the underappreciated backbone of the ranch to an absolute ruff-wearing cantaloupe of a man is also pretty interesting (if you’re the kind of person who absorbs the Zelda series through your skin like a frog to live).

I’ve bolded the key points for skimmers.

Granted, the manga has it that Ingo just gets brainwashed by Twinrova into being a staunch follower of Ganondorf. That’s not canon, but it’s not informing any of this thinking, either way. 

In the beginning of OoT we meet Talon by waking him up from a nap, and we learn pretty quickly that he’s lazy and often yelled at by his daughter for slacking off like this. Ingo at the ranch confirms again that Talon doesn’t pull his weight around there, and since Malon’s still a child, it’s pretty obvious that Ingo’s settled with the bulk of the work.

Ingo is grumpy, he’s resentful, and he complains a lot. But he does do the work, and you can find him (presumably) in the process of mucking out the stables. 

Let’s examine what he does at the ranch:

Epona really liked that song... Only I could tame that horse... Even Mr. Ingo had a hard time...

Now, Epona is established in game to be a real winner of a horse. She’s fast, she’s smart, she’s got a lovely sorrel coat and white mane that seems to be quite rare or highly prized coloring. The catch is, she is notoriously wild. The only people she tolerates are Malon and Link, due in large part to being soothed by the song Malon’s mother taught her.

Ingo had to really try to crack this horse, which Malon’s observation suggests is unusual. 

Epona is very young when we first see her, so it’s never really revealed if she was caught wild, or bred at the ranch with a very headstrong temperament.

Ingo’s clearly the guy that’s breaking them in, though. The most Talon is doing is... sleeping in with the cuccos. We never see any organisation of the cuccos, in terms of egg collection or poultry farming, but nevertheless, Talon has the much less physical jobs even if he was doing them. His focus seems to be cuccos, deliveries to the castle and book keeping between naps (and to be fair it’s probably a little depression related, given the dead wife).

Malon gives us a cow later on, and she’s got the egg for the crowing cucco that wakes up Talon, so I’d like to assume for simplicity’s sake that even as a kid, Malon was up at dawn most days helping Ingo with the cows and milking them. It’s never really implied that she has amazing skill in dealing with horses, just that Epona has a special connection with her specifically. Other than that, Malon is simply kind and respectful of her animals (though I’ve got no idea how she got that cow to Link’s treehouse and that’s worth investigating). 

Later on, Ingo is also shown to be a competent rider. Enough that he has absolutely no qualms in challenging Link to races for wagers, and was quite confident of his ability to win.

The takeaway is, Ingo is usually VERY GOOD with both caring for and training horses, if not breeding them for the ranch.

That kind of lends to his grumbling, when he is referring to himself as ‘the Great Ingo’ and comparing himself to Talon, who is a ‘bum’. His claim to greatness may not be undeserved, at least in horse circles, and especially if he’s not getting particular credit for it, his bitterness and frustration (alongside envy, exhaustion, and dreams of recognition) would be quite deeply run.

So it seems that his friend and employer is clearly taking some advantage of him, especially after the death of Malon’s mother.

So now, let’s examine his feelings, and how he changes.

The feelings Ingo has about that are pretty textbook for the sort of thing ‘evil takes hold of and twists’, in the Zeldaverse.

Focussing on the game itself, Malon says this as an adult:

Since Ganondorf came, people in the Castle Town have gone, places have been ruined, and monsters are wandering everywhere. Mr. Ingo is just using the ranch to gain Ganondorf's favor... Everyone seems to be turning evil...

We do see other characters in Hyrule become influenced by the ‘darkness in their hearts’ as byproduct of Ganondorf’s reign. 

A prominent example of a character who was visibly dissatisfied with their lot, and then notably changes (while praising Ganondorf for what he’d done), is the Castle Guard who is heavily implied to have become the Poe Dealer. Even if by some slim means it’s not the same person, the Poe Dealer does still express that they could not do the work they do without Ganon as King, and that they now benefit from him being in that position and are grateful to him.

The Kakariko Carpenters seem to have given into their fantasies about living among the Gerudo women, and gone out to the Valley and gotten themselves taken prisoner. Following work near the fortress, the team chooses to act on their selfish desires and go for broke, chasing their dreams. They weren’t previously prepared to act upon these fantasies when Link was young, admittedly much milder in their still very prominent obsession, but seven years later, they’re quite happy to risk it all and piss away the stability of their careers (and nearly their lives) at the first opportunity.

Anyway, the trend is, those across Hyrule who are unhappy with their lot before Ganondorf’s coup tend to be ‘corrupted’ by seven years later, and appear to have given in to a twisted version of whatever they most wanted. 

This is noteworthy especially because the language in the game revolves around the Sacred Realm being opened and corrupted, too, by Ganondorf’s unbalanced heart and selfish goals. It is unable to be ‘sealed’ again while Link has the Master Sword. In aLttP, we know there is a mirror like effect to do with the sacred turned dark realm, in which it reflects the hearts of men. 

So it is very reasonable to say, that for OoT in particular, much of this evil influence plaguing the land and preying on the darkness an people’s hearts is a result of the corruption of the Sacred Realm. It is an indirect byproduct of Ganondorf’s acquiring of the Triforce, but not necessarily something he himself does to people on purpose, unlike the brainwashing of Nabooru.

Mr. Ingo is just using the ranch to gain Ganondorf's favor... But Dad... He was kicked out of the ranch by Mr. Ingo... If I disobey Mr. Ingo, he will treat the horses so badly...

This explains a lot of the more callous and greedy behaviour that Ingo shows later on, and why it seems to disappear when he is truly humbled by Link. 

Link’s win serves as a reminder of Ingo’s stagnating skill with horses, the very thing that made him feel so deserving of praise and recognition in the first place, in that for everything he now has control of at the ranch, he still cannot control that horse. He has become as much of a bum as Talon ever was, relegating Malon to do all the hard work while Ingo struts around uselessly. He’s even lost his touch with the Horses so much, in his arrogance, that now he has taken up mistreating them and using harsh and abusive methods (according to Malon’s concerns).

The humiliation and shame takes hold, his pride shattering with the loss of Epona-- not only as a valuable asset, but also as the horse he could never truly tame.

The dark feelings he was holding onto are let go of, as he regains a sense of humility, and the corruptive influence upon him dissipates. He even seeks out Talon to bury the hatchet and invite him back to the ranch.

Oh, I have to tell you about Mr. Ingo... He was afraid that the Evil King might find out that Epona had been taken away... It really upset him! But one day, all of a sudden, he went back to being a normal, nice person! Now my dad is coming back...I can't believe it, but peace is returning to this ranch!

But what about his obsession with Ganondorf in particular?

When the coup happened, Ingo watched the King of the Gerudo unwittingly play out a sort of grand parallel to what Ingo felt should happen on the ranch. To Ingo’s perception, I think Ganondorf was representing an ideal version of Ingo himself. 

A man of the desert, where hard work and grit are as second nature to survive the harsh conditions. A man frustrated with the King of Hyrule’s shit, and forced to swear fealty to him despite being a King himself. A man resplendent with wealth, with fine and flashy clothes and plentiful jewelry.

And perhaps the most important note of all, the Gerudo in OoT? 

They’re horse people. 

They love horses. Ganondorf’s horse is reputed to be a purebred Black Gerudo Stallion, which is obviously a specialty breed, that is fully armoured and as flashy as he is. When the Gerudo cut the bridge leading to the valley, the only way in and out is to have a skilled horse jump the gap. 

They also have a huge horseback archery range, and prowess in the sport is an incredible source of respect amongst the Gerudo, and many of the guards possess bladed polearms suitable for mounted use. From this, it can be assumed that during the recent civil war, Gerudo weapons, war tack and military tactics were probably built around mounted cavalry archers foremost, with a lesser focus on light and heavy cavalry aside (iron knuckle armour springs to mind).

Anyway, Horses are very important to the Gerudo in the era of Ocarina of Time.

So Ganondorf is also unique in the sense that he is the King of a people who value what it is that Ingo does very highly. He, of all people, stands to immediately recognise the knowledge and skill that Ingo possesses in rearing horses.

So this is a man who successfully stages a coup of Hyrule, who clearly inspires Ingo to do much the same of the ranch, and who Ingo also feels is very likely to take his side should he appeal the matter.

And Ganondorf does.

And if that’s not a great compliment to Ingo’s actual skill, I don’t know what is, because Ganondorf is not a man that suffers fools. He’s got a limited patience when it comes to shit that is beneath his notice. Clearly, he recognises that Ingo is indeed the backbone of that ranch-- and the main reason for the quality of its Horses-- and rewards this accordingly.

And for Ingo, being on decent terms with the big scary goth King is a very, very good place to be. But it’s more than that!

What a guy! Not only did he deliver on Ingo’s long due validation, he gave Ingo everything he’d ever dreamed of having to his name, and the authority to kick Talon to the curb. He gets it! Ganondorf, this great eight foot beacon of freshly sought divine power and topaz-encrusted glory, this absolute unit of a man, this great underdog horse-lover after Ingo’s own heart; he really understands how great Ingo is. Ganondorf is paving the way for people like them! Oh, to rub shoulders wiht such greatness when the rest of Hyrule is scorned. 

Ingo feels seen. The Great Ganondorf made all that thankless time spent shovelling horse shit while Talon slept mean something. The Gerudo appreciate Ingo’s talents.

And all Ingo has to do is keep turning out really good horses, and promise to present the King with his finest.

So Ingo knows he’s in deep shit when he gets cocky and loses Epona to a wager, who at this point, he’s prepared pretty well and sunk a lot of money into on the idea that she’s going to Ganondorf. 

Who he’s probably bragged to about how fast she is.

He lost her to some jerk in tights who’d barely ridden before, too. And then when Ingo tried to cheat him out of the win, the kid jumped the damned fence an in ass-bustingly cool move that really just drove home how excellent and rare Epona was.

One does not promise the King of the Gerudo a fast horse and then fail to deliver, let alone for such a stupid reason.

Honestly, by the end, the man’s just happy to be alive.

Also I’d like to think he and Talon had a much fairer delegation of work and forgave each other, each really learning to appreciate what they have and what’s really important.

how the fuck did the Kokiri leave the forest for this scene anyway, they don’t even have their faries???

[readyplayerhobi]

La Douleur Exquise

; Horse Hybrid!Taehyung x Lovebird Hybrid!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, impregnation kink, filmed sex

; Word Count: 14.9k

; Synopsis: Taehyung is in love with his best friend. The problem? He’s a stallion, a horse hybrid who’s basic instinct is to collect a herd of women to protect and procreate. His best friend is a lovebird hybrid and they mate for life. He knows it’s pretty much impossible to be together and that you’d end up hurt, but what happens when he finds out you love him just as much?

; A/N: So, my first fic in like...two months? I started this fic in early July and honestly...I just wanted it finished. If it seems a bit disjointed or something then it was very stop and start...I hope you all enjoy it anyway and that it doesn’t disappoint or anything! It’s taken a WHILE for me to get back into writing (honestly, I almost left lol). Please reblog if you enjoyed and leave me comments and asks!

-

“Oh...fuck. Fuck, you’re so big, mmm,” The girl on her hands and knees in front of Taehyung moaned, her ass wiggling in desperation as he thrust his hard cock into her soaked pussy. “Harder, please. Please, fuck me harder.”

He hissed as she clenched around him, his entire length disappearing with ease inside her as his hips moved rhythmically. Large hands groped at the globes of her ass, squeezing them and spreading them wide to give the best view possible. Grunting, he slapped at one cheek hard and smirked when she yelped, jerking slightly.

“Such a pretty girl, so pliant and willing, hmm?” Taehyung questioned, his voice low and brusque as he moved hard enough to cause the room to be filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin. “A greedy pussy, so eager for your stallion to get you in foal, aren’t you?” 

She moaned in response, her face unseen to him but her body reacted by squeezing around his cock once more. Running one hand along her spine, he hummed in delight before leaning forward and biting down on her shoulder. It was instinctual, something deep in his genes telling him to hold her steady while he filled her up and impregnated her.

His other hand moved down to her clit, the bundle of nerves still soft and silky with her excitement but also swollen hard with her impending orgasm. Years of experience let his fingertips find the exact spot he needed, swirling them in quick circles and making her cry out even louder, hips bucking beneath him.

“That’s a good mare,” He panted, trailing his nose along her neck slowly. “Come for me, come on, you can do it. Tighten that pussy around me and I’ll breed you as you want.” 

Her orgasm hit seconds later, body convulsing tightly around him and he grunted, hips jerking forward even more rapidly. She was whining, a babbling mess beneath him as he continued to stimulate her, the effects being just as pleasurable for him too until he too came.

Pressing into her hard, he felt the slight resistance of what must be her uterus against the tip of his cock but she didn’t complain of any pain. One of the benefits of being a fellow horse hybrid was that a mare was biologically compatible with the large cock stallions had. One hand held her hips steady, making sure she didn’t move away as his balls convulsed rhythmically, each time causing his cock to twitch as he continued to ejaculate inside her.

She was breathing hard now, her body covered in a fine layer of sweat that caught the light perfectly and he hummed in appreciation, finally feeling the end of his orgasm. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and licked at his lips as he gave a few, shallow thrusts to wring out his final moments of pleasure and also make sure she got all of his cum.

“You were a good girl for me. We’ll get a nice colt or filly from you.” He mutters, stroking along her back appreciatively. Her skin was darker in certain patches and lighter in others, a result of her American Paint Horse breeding. It was pretty and he let his fingers trail along with the colour distinction.

Finally, though, he pulled out. The noise as he did so was extremely wet, but that was nothing compared to the rush of thick, white cum that slipped out of her used pussy. Pursing his lips, he looked it over carefully before dragging his fingers through some of it and pushing it back inside her. It didn’t matter, stallions were renowned for the large amount of semen they produced and she was probably filled inside.

“And cut!” Called the director, his voice interrupting the silence of the set. Taehyung let out an immediate sigh of relief and sat back, his cock rapidly softening now that the scene was over. His co-star sat up with a groan, stretching to get out the kinks in her back from the position she’d been in for the last ten minutes.

As she did so, the trickle of cum once more became a torrent, slipping down her thighs to collect on the bed. She didn’t pay attention to it and he didn’t say anything, the two of them used to scenes like this by now. Wheein was a consummate professional and one of the best in the porn industry, just like Taehyung.

“That was a good scene,” She complimented him, smiling in gratitude to her assistant who brought a robe that she used to cover herself up with. “Even if the whole ‘dirty talk’ is a little overdone nowadays.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in agreement, grinning as he accepted the cleaning wipes from his assistant. Without a care in the world, he began to wipe his cock clean as he continued on his discussion with Wheein. She was quickly wiping down her thighs and between her legs as well. They’d both clean up more properly when they went to their dressing rooms but he wouldn’t be seeing her again after this.

Not unless they worked on the same set again.

“Right? It’s so fucking cringe. I wish they’d hire someone who’s an equine if they’re going to write a script featuring two of us. Who even talks like that?” He muttered, tugging on his robe and tying it closed before slipping his feet into the sandals provided to him.

The laugh Wheein gives is sweet, making her entire face light up. She really is a beautiful woman and her body is equally divine, only made even better by her kind and bubbly personality. Not that she’d been able to show that during this scene of course.

It struck Taehyung that she’d probably make a good mare for his herd. Despite the fact they were lamenting how lame the script was that they’d been given, there were some truths to what they’d filmed. A stallion like Taehyung would actively seek out fertile mares from good stock for his herd to breed with.

The better quality the mare’s breeding, the better his foals would be. 

At least, that’s what horse hybrids were meant to do. Wheein would probably even agree to it if he asked. He knew that she wasn’t in a herd already and she’d made it pretty clear to him that she’d be open to something outside of their work if he wanted. His deeply-rooted instincts demanded that he take her home and breed her properly, but he just sighed deeply instead.

He may be a horse hybrid, with all the possessive and protective instincts that provided him as a stallion, but he had no actual interest in living his life like that. Which is why he makes a little more small talk with Wheein before leaving to go to his dressing room. The shower he takes is quick, making sure to rub viciously at his body as he tries his hardest to remove any scent of the mare he’d just fucked.

Hybrids were something that had been created long ago. So long ago, no one knew how they were made anymore. The knowledge had been lost in the Hybrid Revolution, three centuries ago when hybrids had refused to be slaves for their human masters anymore. Ever since they’d been treated as equals to everyone else in society.

That didn’t mean that they’d integrated fully of course. Hybrids of different species more often than not stayed with each other or mated with humans. It did happen though, but the differing instincts meant it often was better for a hybrid to simply stay within their species.

Something Taehyung had always found amusing though was the fact that even within their species, a lot of hybrids would only mate within their own ‘breed’. Wheein was a pure American Paint Horse, coming from a long line that could be traced back to when the humans had been breeding horse hybrids for manual labour, protection services and sports purposes.

Back then, the humans treated hybrids exactly like actual horses. They had a studbook and would breed stallions to certain mares to produce characteristics they wanted. Placid nature, easy to work with, intelligent, quick to learn and so forth. When they’d been released, the breeds had continued on the studbooks to this day.

There were plenty who didn’t follow that ideology, of course, Taehyung’s parents were not the same breed after all, but a lot seemed to put stock in being ‘purebred’. It was just another way to act superior in his opinion.

Besides, his parents may not be from the same breed but he was still technically a breed all of his own. His mother was an Arabian while his father a Thoroughbred, meaning he was a breed called an Anglo-Arab. That was considered a breed in its own right, though perhaps not as prestigious as either of his parents.

Whatever he didn’t care about all that. Taehyung had no real interest in following the cultural norms of his heritage. And the reason for that was waiting for him back at his apartment. The thought of that spurred him into cleaning up even faster, making sure he was squeaky clean before pulling on the clothes he’d removed earlier in the day.

Glancing in the mirror once finished, he sighed deeply and looked himself over. A quirk of his kind was that they looked distinctly hybrid in ways that didn’t match others.

A dog hybrid may have the ears of a spaniel while a cat could have the tail of a Persian. Horse hybrids didn’t have any of their animal counterpart’s physical characteristics though, no tails or ears or anything like that. But their animal genes had manifested uniquely in their skin and hair.

If someone was a bay then they would have brown skin in a range of shades while their lower arms, legs and the space around their mouths and nose would be even darker and their hair a luscious black. Taehyung blended a little better than most other horse hybrids, but for others like Wheein, it was more obvious. Her skin was covered in patches of alternating dark and light while her natural hair grew in white and dark brown.

He knew that certain breeds had distinct characteristics as well. An old high school friend was a Friesian with coal-black skin and the most luxuriously thick, wavy black hair. One of his Taehyung’s siblings, on the other hand, had a Lipizzaner mare in his herd; her skin and hair was snow white. It certainly made them easily identifiable.

Taehyung wasn’t quite so obvious. His palomino colouring was visible; pale white hair that was a little too long and softly tousled matched with rich golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down into a slim waist, currently covered in a loose white button-up. His hair was still wet, dripping onto his shirt while his strong thighs and calves were contained within equally loose-fitting tan trousers. 

He didn’t look like someone who’d just filmed pornography, but then again, what did that look anyway? Just a person? Still, he felt a small sense of satisfaction at how well he was going to blend. The last thing he wanted was to go home and have it look obvious what he’d just been doing, even if it was his job.

Chewing on his lip, he grabs his leather cross shoulder bag and exits the dressing room. He promised to get takeout tonight, and he wasn’t going to renege on that deal.

-

“I have food!” Taehyung calls out, placing the bag of takeout he’d just picked up on the kitchen counter before shrugging off his jacket. By the time he gets back from hanging it up, you’ve already emerged from your bedroom and are pulling plates out of the cupboard while trying to see what he’d gotten.

“What did you get? Chinese?” Looking up at him with a raised brow, Taehyung’s heart stutters for a moment at just how pretty you are. There’s not a trace of makeup on your face right now, you didn’t bother when you were at home, and yet you were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Like him, you were also a hybrid. The two of you had met in the first class of freshman year in college and had quickly become best friends, despite the differences between you both. He’d also fallen deeply in love with you at some point, even though he knew nothing could happen.

Just as he was driven by the instinct to have sex with multiple women to form a herd, you were driven by your instincts. Only yours were dictated by your lovebird genetics, which meant that you were strictly monogamous. As in, once you entered a relationship and truly fell in love with them then you would never have another relationship.

The antithesis of a horse hybrid then. Taehyung had long known that it meant he would never be able to be with you the way he wanted. You craved monogamy and it simply wasn’t in his genes.

So he’d stayed your best friend, and for the last five years since finishing college, he’d also remained your roommate. The two of you shared a mid-sized apartment in the city centre, close to the university that you worked at as a music professor and within easy driving distance of his workplace.

“No, there’s a new Ethiopian place that’s opened close to work. Seokjin was telling me about it it’s a vegan restaurant and I thought it’d be cool to try it out. No idea what you’d like, or what I’d like, so I just got a bunch of things to try.” Smiling at you, he starts to pull out the carefully packaged food and chuckles as you ‘ooh’ at it all.

“Oooh, I’ve never had Ethiopian food before. I’m excited.” And then you turn that blinding smile onto him and he has to let out a deep breath as slowly as possible to stop himself from doing something silly. He’s long been used to his feelings yet you still make him feel like a teenager again.

Once everything’s out, the two of you take it over to the little table that’s set up between the kitchen and the living room and lay it all out. You quickly dart over to the fridge and grab some water for the two of you before settling down and humming in excitement as everything is unpackaged.

Like Taehyung, you didn’t have many physical attributes of your animal side. Which would have been exceptionally strange given the difference between humans and birds. What you did have though, were black irises to match your pupils and the most exquisitely beautifully coloured hair. The front was a blend of peach, yellow and red which slowly morphed into the familiar lovebird green.

It was all-natural and incredibly pretty, suiting your face and personality so well. The original purpose of lovebird hybrids had been as companions due to their loyalty to their partner alongside musical pursuits. Not everyone was great at music but more often than not, lovebird hybrids tended to excel at singing.

Taehyung loved to hear you sing. Or play the piano or any of the other instruments you’d learnt how to play over the years. You were practically a prodigy when it came to the musical arts and he would forever be in awe of just how talented you were.

Your singing was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you so quickly; your buoyant and always effervescent personality had made him determined to befriend the sweet lovebird hybrid in his class. But it was your singing that had truly captured his heart.

The sweet sound of your voice could be as light as a dandelion seed on a summer breeze or swell as loud and strong as a hurricane. He’d been immediately fascinated the moment he’d first heard you sing and it had never let him go. Taehyung genuinely couldn’t imagine his life anymore without hearing your singing around the apartment; from the quiet songs when you were concentrating to the ones you belted out when you were in a happy mood.

He loved it all. As cheesy as it would sound, he just knew that his life would be dull and quiet without his music-obsessed, colourful, chatty best friend. Which was why he couldn’t give up the small hope of something with you. It was a tiny chance, but as long as you remained unattached then it was there all the same and he would grab onto it tightly.

“Did your shoot go well today?” You distract him out of his wayward thoughts with your question and it takes a few seconds of it to truly penetrate his mind and for him to understand. Almost immediately though, it causes him to twist his lips as he begins to spoon out the food he wants from the containers onto his injera, Ethiopian flatbread, that covers his plate. He hated talking about his job to you. It was like a reminder of what he couldn’t have every time.

But he was a big boy, so he took in a deep breath before looking back at you and giving you his trademark boxy smile. 

“It went okay, nothing went wrong which is always a good thing. Wheein was nice and very pleasant to work with, good at her job. The script was just as bad as I originally thought.” Snorting at the memory, he takes a mouthful of food and chews thoughtfully as he takes in the new flavours.

“Let me guess...full of lots of over-the-top horse innuendos and dirty talk?” Chuckling to yourself, you take a drink of cold water before tilting to your head to look him over carefully. Taehyung pauses, unsure of himself for a second before quirking his brow at you.

“Yeah, something like that. I shouldn’t be complaining really...no one watches what I make for the dialogue.” He’s very aware that there’s a slight pout to his lips as he looks back down at his plate, missing the way your expression changes to one of sympathy and protectiveness.

“Well...true I guess, but you’re a great actor outside of that. And I’m not just saying that to you because you’re my best friend TaeTae. You’re genuinely good.” Now he does look at you, taking in the way you look at him with concern and he feels a flare of guilt rise in his stomach. Taehyung would never let you know that the only reason he’d started to work in the pornography industry during college was so that he could satiate his desires without dating multiple women or accidentally creating a herd.

The fact that he was still doing it, seven years after beginning, was because he still held out hope. He knew that he could’ve been something better, entered the world of television or film acting, maybe even theatre. But it would have meant having to flaunt an unending trail of women in front of you.

At least he had a valid and acceptable reason for fucking so many women as a pornstar. The fact that he had no emotional connection to the women who worked alongside him now was a bonus, allowing you to see that he was more than capable of leaving his work in the studio.

Giving you a tight smile, Taehyung nods his head in appreciation. “Thanks, chirp. I appreciate it. And I know, but I think it’s too late now. Too old, you know?” 

“Pfft, no way. There are loads of actors who didn’t start their careers until they were older! And no offence, but you’re a guy so you’ve got the kind of lifespan that most women aren’t allowed. You’re only twenty-nine!” The outraged response from you is almost immediate, the piece of injera almost flying out of your hand at your reaction.

Thankfully, you’d just eaten the vegetable wat that you’d scooped up already so there wasn’t any risk of the floor or wall being decorated with Ethiopian stew. That would just be a waste of some good food in Taehyung’s opinion.

But that was irrelevant. 

What was relevant was your vehement defence of Taehyung and his talents. The two of you had had this conversation many times over the years and yet it never failed to make him smile. You were adamant he could do better and he knew that he could too. But he didn’t want to. Despite how good his acting was, he had no real interest in actually taking it up as a career outside of porn.

He didn’t care for the lifestyle or travelling or fame. Porn worked well for him at the moment. It satisfied his instincts, it paid well enough and he had a manager that ensured Taehyung only received the best directors, co-stars and films.

What Taehyung would love to do, was to work in fashion design. He loved putting together interesting and unique looks while also thinking up ideas for clothes. His best friend, Jimin, had started a clothing brand of his own a few years ago thanks to the money his parents had loaned him. It was doing pretty well so far and Jimin was constantly sad that Taehyung wouldn’t join him.

The older man, he was only two months older but that meant everything to Park Jimin, had tried everything he could think of to lure his best friend into his company. From offering a creative director role to his sub-brand that would operate almost independently from the parent brand, Calico. And Taehyung had promised him that he’d accept one day.

He would as well. Just not yet. It wasn’t time yet. 

“Thanks. Anyway, how was your day? Didn’t you say you had some exams this morning or something?” His segue into another conversation works like a charm and you happily begin to complain about the exams that you’d given your freshman students today. It still boggled his mind that you’d willingly insert yourself into college life again, even if it was in a teaching role but you seemed to thrive in the social aspect of it all.

The two of you continue to talk until there’s no food left, every single piece happily was eaten. Admittedly, most of it was eaten by Taehyung as he had a far larger appetite than you did. It was even bigger today given the workout he’d done during his work hours but you’d been content to hand over what you didn’t want to eat anymore.

Or rather, you’d been content to feed him what you didn’t want. Something he’d had to get used to very early on in his friendship with you was that you retained the instinct to feed those you were close to. That’s what you’d told him anyway, though if he was to be entirely honest he hadn’t seen you feed anyone else before.

Then again, none of the friends you both shared in common was the kind of people who would accept being fed, no matter how much they liked you.

It’s a few hours later that you’re both ready to go to bed; eyes sleepy and movements slow after watching three episodes of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina while curled up beneath the couch blanket as you both digest your food. Taehyung could have happily fallen asleep where he was, the warmth of you not close enough for him to feel but your scent strong enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m going to bed.” You say loudly, causing him to jerk awake quickly as you push the blanket off your body and stand up. It’s not as quick as you’d normally be but the stretch you give combined with the extraordinarily big yawn lets him know you’re pretty tired.

Not a surprise. It was after 11 pm now and you’d been up since 5:30 am to make sure you had everything set for your classes. A slight wobble as you lose your balance causes him to jump up, resting a hand on the small of your back gently to provide careful assistance while he reaches for the remote with his other to turn off the television.

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Taehyung chuckles, kicking away the blanket which had also become tangled around your feet. A quiet hum from you lets him know that you’re more tired than he’d initially thought.

Not saying anything more, he runs his free hand through the pale blonde strands of his hair as he directs you towards your bedroom. The door is closed to the outside world, unlike his, but the interior is familiar to him once you open it up.

One of the habits you had that came from your lovebird side was that you liked to nest. Which meant your bedroom had everything you loved arranged exactly how you wanted it. Your bed was a canopy style, completely cocooned away from the world except for the entrance. He’d been in once or twice to wake you up when you’d been late for something and he would admit to being fascinated by just how dark and...comfy it all looked.

Soft sheets, multiple fluffy pillows and more covered the top of your bed. He’d love to see what it was like to sleep in it one night because it looked like it could easily be one of the comfiest nights of sleep he’s ever had. A bonus would be if you slept next to him.

One of the more fortunate, or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it, aspects of his heritage was that Taehyung could sleep anywhere. He’d even been known to sleep standing up, which meant that he wasn’t that bothered about what his sleeping space looked like.

Taehyung knew it was something of an honour for him to be even allowed in your bedroom, to be honest, given how protective and territorial you got over your own space. It had been amusing for him to realise this at first, particularly given he wasn’t particularly bothered when it came to his own physical space but upon realising you wouldn’t let anyone else in, he’d used it as a badge of pride.

To himself, of course. No one else would care or even be surprised that your best friend and roommate was the only person allowed in.

Shaking his head, he wishes you goodnight before closing your door quietly and heading to the bathroom for his nightly ritual. The downside to being a porn actor was that he had to follow a proper skincare routine to make sure his skin looked the best. Because obviously, people were paying attention to his beautiful face instead of his massive dick.

Not.

Still, it helped to book more shoots. He had a ‘statuesque’ face that appealed to women or something. So he went along with it and had, admittedly, fantastic skin as a result.

The last thought before he finally fell asleep was that he was pretty sure the oversized black sweatpants you’d been wearing were his.

-

Taehyung doesn’t get to see a whole lot of you in the next few weeks. He’d ended up having to travel for a shoot that lasted a week and by the time he got back, you were on a much-needed vacation with your friends. As such, he was getting a little grumpy at the lack of interaction with you.

Which was entirely the reason that he’d almost jumped on top of you when you’d finally walked through the apartment door; three long weeks after seeing you last. You’d let him know that you’d be coming home today and he’d had to wait as patiently as he could on the couch, pouting at the fact you hadn’t accepted his offer of going to the airport to meet you.

But with everything in the apartment turned off, he’d used his superior hearing to the best of his abilities and had listened as hard as possible for your footsteps. After so many years, he knew exactly what you sounded like when you walked.

So when he finally heard that familiar beat, alongside the rolling of the wheels on your suitcase, he’d leapt up. There may even be a hole in the wall from how forcefully he’d yanked the door open, his excitement causing him to not pay attention to his strength for a moment before he’s giving you the biggest and brightest grin he possibly can.

“I missed youuuuuu!” Whining loudly, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist and lifts. The squeal you let out soon dissolves into laughter when he spins you around, mentally marvelling once more at how light you were while his sense went haywire with you so close again. He could feel the softness of your hips as he lets you down, smell the soft peach of your shampoo along with the slight hint of sweat after so long travelling. 

It was perfect, and something deep within him relaxed.

You were home. You were safe.

“I missed you too, Tae! Can I please actually come in?” Your laughter is sweet, infectious as always and he stands to the side to let you enter the apartment. Without even asking, he gently takes the handle of your suitcase from you and lifts it with no complaints, heading over to your bedroom.

Given he’s not facing you anymore, he doesn’t see the way you practically swoon at the sight of him using his strength so casually. Or the way you almost drool at his broad shoulders in the plain white shirt he’d thrown on today, the muscles working in a way that made your hands twitch.

“Did you have a good time? Please tell me that Yeji doesn’t have some embarrassing story again this year,” While your yearly vacations with your friends were mostly for sunbathing and catching up, he knew that you all enjoyed re-enacting some college years and that copious amounts of alcohol were drunk. “And I’m not saying about you, I mean just embarrassing full stop. I’m still feeling secondary embarrassment over two years ago.”

“A story which will forever remain buried, thank you very much. But no, we were good this year. Or rather, we weren’t good but I think we’re starting to get a little too old to be drinking so heavily, you know? We can’t recuperate the same way and I get hangovers way too easily. I do not have the physiology to cope with their drinking levels!” There’s a slight whine to your voice, making him smile in amusement as he moves over to lean against the doorway of your room.

While he was fully welcome into your space, he knew that you liked it to be your own. Especially when you’d been away for a while.

“Well, I mean...you are a lovebird. I don’t think there are many alcohol-tolerant birds out there.” That gets him a subtle glare, your pretty lips puckered into a pout. It’s an innocent action, something that shouldn’t bother him in the slightest, and yet his heart stutters and his stomach twists on itself.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss you.

Shaking his head, he tries to force the thoughts out of his mind. Honestly, he was perfectly fine when he was away from you. But when you were around, it was like you were all he could think about. Still, it was hard not to when you looked at him so fondly.

“True. There’s no need to point that out though. Salt in the wound much? Anyway, it was fun. They kept trying to get me to swim in the sea but like...no thank you. Water is for drinking and washing, not for swimming around in.” You’re crouched down, unzipping your suitcase and pulling out the dirty clothes before separating them into the individual bins you have.

Unlike Taehyung, who simply separated his clothes when it came time to wash them, you were very tidy and had bought fancy clothes hamper with three sections. This was probably why Taehyung would accidentally end up with a shrunken shirt or pink underwear from time to time. You paid far more attention to that stuff.

“Swimming is fun though.” Is all he responds with, standing back when you carry the laundry hampers past him. Putting the colours into the washing machine, he watches quietly as you add everything before turning it on. It was fascinating how you’d only been home for less than ten minutes and yet you were already cleaning things up.

Not that he’d made the apartment untidy or anything. It’s just you had a different idea of what was clean to him.

“Okay but, you can say that because you’ve got those shoulders to cut through the water. Not to mention you’re strong anyway. Not so fun for the rest of us. And I don’t mind swimming in a pool. Where I can see the bottom and the size is posted. The ocean though? That’s huge. No thanks.” Smirking, he flops down onto the couch and sighs happily when you push him up before sitting down yourself, letting him rest his head on your thighs.

There was no convincing you though and Tae gave up on the argument pretty quickly, not that he was trying too hard. One thing he’d learnt long ago was that you were perhaps the most stubborn person he’d ever known. It was an endearing trait, most of the time.

“Did you audition for that role?” Your question is innocent, soft fingers trailing through his hair that would have him purring if he was a cat hybrid. Instead, it was just making him get the urge to groom you in turn, his fingers twitching with the need. Ignoring it, he forced himself to just enjoy the touch.

“Yeah. Not sure if I’ve got it though. I got the feeling they weren’t looking for someone like me in the role.” It wasn’t surprising really and he wasn’t offended by the producers of the film he’d gone for. Even porn wanted specific people for specific roles sometimes; it would be silly to think he could get every role he went for.

Not to mention exhausting.

“Well, they’re missing out then,” You say, scratching his scalp until he hums in delight. “Anyone who doesn’t want you is missing out.”

Your words make his heart jump, his breath stuttering as he inhales and wonders if there’s a double meaning to that. But you’re too busy watching the show that you’ve started on Netflix to notice Taehyung’s existential dilemma. Part of him is glad, but there’s another part that wishes he was brave enough to bring it up.

He chooses not to engage with it though, instead just sighing and letting himself relax into the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to be surrounded by your scent once more and to feel your warmth.

“I appreciate that, Chirp. But I’m not letting it get me down. Sometimes they just can’t handle all this.” Gesturing half-heartedly to his body, he’s pleased to hear you laugh at his joke. The sound is sweet, even if the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence after that. 

You’re too busy watching your show while he’s half dozing off, eyes closed and breath getting deeper as he starts to drift away. It’s comfortable on the couch, with the temperature just right and his body perfectly relaxed. Which means it’s unsurprising that he falls asleep pretty quickly, completely unaware of anything that’s happening around him as he sleeps.

-

Taehyung is more than a little disoriented when he finally awakens; the room dark and silent with the lights and television switched off. Frowning, he blinks rapidly before rubbing at his eyes with a hand while sitting up. Stretching his arms out above his head, the groan he lets out is one of relief as stiff muscles relax and a few bones crack.

Reaching out to the coffee table blindly, he grabs his phone and winces when the bright light almost blinds him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been hugely blessed with the better night sight horses had. Well, he could see better than humans but nothing amazing. Didn’t make it any better when he was subjected to bright light suddenly though.

“Ah, fuck.” He curses, squinting until he can finally focus on the screen. It’s not too late, but it’s a good two hours or so since you’d finally gotten home. Frowning, he just sits there for a moment as his mind finally catches up with the fact he is awake.

Yawning loudly, he finally pulls himself up and decides he should probably go shower before collapsing into bed. Taehyung hadn’t even realised he was tired, but it could have been the comfort of knowing you were back and safe. It wasn’t like he was some over-protective asshole who needed to know your every movement - more that he just felt more content when he knew you were okay.

Walking to his room, he’s scratching at his exposed stomach lazily when he hears the sound of your voice. The door leading to your bedroom is firmly closed but there’s light at the gap on the bottom. His enhanced hearing means that he can easily hear everything you’re saying, which is nothing new.

Over the years though, he’s learnt to carefully block out anything you’re saying when you’re in your room. You deserved your privacy, even if he couldn’t help the fact that he could hear everything perfectly.

And that would have been exactly what he would have done right now. Just carried on through to his bedroom and continued with his plans. Only he can’t help but stop when he hears the familiar syllables of his name. Taehyung knows it’s wrong, but the way you said it is different than normal.

He can’t help but listen, expression curious and his head tilting without even realising it. Your conversation is one-sided but he pays careful attention, still in the middle of the hallway.

“-you know Taehyung, he’s always being attentive and sweet. It’s just his nature, he’s like that with everyone. Yuna...it’s just Tae. He hugs everyone, you’re looking too much into it,” There’s a longer pause now, presumably your best friend talking extensively to you. “Come on, isn’t that what you always tell me? We haven’t seen each other in a while, it’s not surprising he got all touchy.”

Taehyung frowns, lips twisting as he begins to understand a little. Or at least, he thinks he does. If he’s right, Yuna thinks that he likes you. His cheeks heat up as he realises how obvious he’d been with his feelings, even though you make a good argument against it. But you’re wrong and Yuna is very much right.

He does like you, and he’s not quite as touchy-feely with everyone else. Taehyung isn’t even sure how you got that opinion. The only other person he’s remotely as affectionate with is Jimin, and that’s only because he’s known the calico cat hybrid since they were babies. Tae’s mom had worked with Jimin’s mom for decades now, which meant they’d grown up with each other.

“Yuna,” Your whining now, voice going high pitched and your words getting longer. “I thought you were the one who was telling me that I need to get over Tae! And now you’re telling me he’s obviously into me? Make up your mind, woman! Do you want me to ignore my feelings for him or consider telling him? And no, you can’t backtrack in a week or so like you always do. This is serious. I’d be humiliating myself by telling him.”

It’s almost like the world has paused around Taehyung. For a second, he almost feels dizzy and has to rest a palm against the wall as he sways. Your feelings...for him? Did he hear that right? Was he twisting your words into what he hoped you were implying?

Before he can contemplate it anymore in his mind, you go on to say something that shatters the norm for Taehyung.

“It would be humiliating Yuna, you know that. You know what I am, we’ve talked about this. God, I can’t tell Taehyung I love him because then that’s it, I’ve sealed my fate and I won’t be able to get over him. It’s already hard just trying. Having him know? I can’t, not when he can’t give me what I want.” There’s a pain in your voice and his heart twists, stomach bubbling in a way that almost makes him want to vomit as his world changes.

You love him. You.  Love. Him.

“It’s not his fault Yuna, we’ve gone through this so many times. I have my instincts and he has his, I’m not going to get angry at something we can’t change. Please...can we just talk about something else? Something that’s not going to make me cry and spend all night thinking? We agreed that we’d try to get me over this, dammit.”

That’s the last thing Taehyung hears as he walks quickly back to his room, having decided that he’s heard far too much of a conversation he clearly shouldn’t have heard. Guilt roils in him, flooding his veins as he flops down onto his bed and stares at the white ceiling of his room. He feels dazed and confused, not sure what he’s meant to think about this sudden change in events.

Taehyung being in love with you was something he’d long ago accepted. But he’d also accepted that nothing would happen from it because of what you wanted in life. Finding out that you wanted him too was game-changing. It was also heartbreaking to know that the only reason you both weren’t together already was because of his instincts.

Suddenly, he sees his career in a whole new light. What was a coping mechanism for him to reduce his innate desires and allow him to give you all the best bits of himself, was probably pure pain for you. The knowledge that you loved him was both exciting and, surprisingly, horrifying.

He knew that love birds would only have one partner, and from what he’d read over the years it meant they only really truly loved one person. If you felt this strongly for Taehyung then did that mean he’d stolen any other choices from you? He’d been holding back to make sure you had a chance to be happy but had he just made it worse?

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung realises there are tears in his eyes as he wonders if he’s ruined everything. The logical part of his mind knows that it’s not his fault if you’ve fallen in love with him, just like it wasn’t your fault he’d fallen for you. But he certainly hadn’t done anything to truly push you away, to try and get you to find someone else to fall in love with and enjoy a happy life.

Had he been selfish? 

Rolling onto his stomach, he buries his head into his pillow and lets out a yell. It’s a good job your hearing is only on the level of a normal human because he was positive the extended noise he made would have brought you running otherwise. And he needed to think right now.

There’s probably a solid ten minutes of silence in his room as he lays there, unmoving while his mind races through all his options. If he admitted that he’d overheard you, then he would probably embarrass you. Taehyung would jump at the chance to finally date you, but he knew that you wouldn’t be able to cope with his career.

You were supportive of him now, but you weren’t in a romantic relationship with him. And he doubted you would be comfortable with the knowledge that he was coming home to kiss, cuddle and have sex with you after having done the same things with random women earlier in the day.

If he was honest with himself then Taehyung knew that he wouldn’t be happy with that too. Despite how he was raised, his mom had been one of many mares in the herd his father had kept over the years, he wanted to be the one for you. Which meant he wouldn’t be content to do things with other women that you only wanted to be done.

He wanted the traditional relationship that many horse hybrids would wrinkle their nose at.

So, he had to figure out how to navigate that.

Lifting himself, he grabs his phone and opens up Google. Taehyung didn’t know many horse hybrid’s who wanted to have a monogamous relationship, but he had met a few over the years. Racking his brain, he tries to remember what they had talked about when he’d queried how they could cope with only being with one partner for life.

Despite his interest in the topic, he’d been young at the time and had still very much enjoyed sleeping with as many women as he could. His feelings for you hadn’t quite become what they were today, so he hadn’t listened too intently. Taehyung regretted that now. Tapping his lips for a moment, he contemplates what to write before he begins to type his request into the search engine.

Horse hybrid hormone inhibitors.

-

It’s three weeks later when Taehyung finally feels comfortable and knowledgeable enough to make a move. He’d made an appointment with his doctor the very next day after overhearing your conversation. He specialised in hybrid care, in particular those for equine hybrids like Taehyung along with the rare donkey or zebra.

Which meant he wasn’t all that shocked at Taehyung’s unusual enquiry. He probably got the occasional query from an equine hybrid about how to be monogamous. It was rare but not unheard of after all. What had shocked him though, was the fact that it was Taehyung asking it.

Kim Taehyung, the infamous porn star who had built a living on his ability to fuck his way through multiple women on camera. Who had his damn fanbase based almost purely on his cock for god’s sake? It was embarrassing to think about, but he’d known what he was getting into when he’d signed the contract in the first place.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy his job because he did. Taehyung hated that he did, but the sex with many women helped to alleviate all those deeply held instincts and urges within him. Still, now that he knew about you he had no intention of carrying on with his career. Not when he had a chance.

Which was why he’d admitted his feelings towards you to the doctor. Something he’d never thought he’d end up doing, but once everything was out in the open then his doctor was far more understanding of Taehyung’s request. Even encouraging of it. Taehyung was pretty sure that he found the whole story a little sweet and romantic.

Either way, they’d worked out a plan for him to make his life easier if you accepted him. Medications that he would need to take to reduce the overwhelming instincts that drive his hybrid nature and would allow him to engage in monogamy. The idea of that was unbelievably exciting and he’d begun to take his medication only days after the appointment.

After that, he’d gotten together with Jimin. Their weekly hangout usually occurred in a bar, a restaurant or sometimes just hanging around one of their apartments. His best friend had shrieked with delight when Taehyung had explained his predicament and what he was doing to go forward with.

Which had led him to finally asking Jimin if that job offer was still on the plate if everything went right. Taehyung wanted to finally pursue his dream of being a fashion designer and it was so tantalisingly close. He was on the verge of finally having the life he’d always wanted. Hopefully with you.

The first week of being on the medication, which reduced the high levels of testosterone he produced and helped to inhibit his base reactions, had been rough as hell. Taehyung had been on the verge of calling in sick for the first time to a shoot, his body struggling to cope with the change in his body. But he’d pushed through and two weeks later, here he was.

Nervous as fuck and waiting for you to finally come home. 

Everything all depended on if you’d accept his request to start a relationship. A serious, romantic relationship that was entirely monogamous. If you said yes, then he had a lawyer all set up to break his contract and a contract just waiting for him with Jimin.

Although really, he’d be quitting his job no matter what happened. He was tired of the porn scene, even if he’d met some wonderfully kind and talented people there. Taehyung had finally decided that he would be moving on with his life and accepting the job with Jimin.

It was up to you whether you wanted to be alongside him, and in what capacity.

The pizza he’d ordered for you both arrived at the same time you came home; a large box of vegetable pizza held in your hands and amusement in your pretty eyes. It makes him smile brightly to see you happy, knowing that you’re pleased he’d taken care of dinner tonight. Especially as it was from your favourite pizzeria; six different kinds of cheeses combined with peppers, onions, eggplant, tomatoes and spinach.

Your favourite kind of pizza, alongside a bottle of red wine that he’d already filled a glass with to let it breathe. The amusement soon turns to suspicion, your brow rising as you kick off your shoes and shrug off your coat.

“What’s all this about?” Gesturing at everything, you settle onto the couch next to him with your legs curled up beneath you. Taehyung bites his lip, sighing softly before reaching out and opening up the box. He doesn’t explain for a few minutes, just letting you both eat a slice of pizza while he watches his beer on the table.

He felt like a teenager, his stomach fizzing with a combination of excitement and nerves that almost makes him feel nauseous. Maybe he shouldn’t be eating right now, but he hasn’t been able to eat all day so far. There would be no use in making himself ill. It would be mortifying for him to throw up all over you.

By the time you’ve eaten two slices, Taehyung has only managed one. But he’s decided that he’s waited long enough. It’s time.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before clearing his throat. After so many years of being friends, he knows that he can talk to you about anything. There are many memories that he’d much rather forget that you’d seen of him, such as that awkward time when he’d had an upset stomach and hadn’t been able to get to the bathroom quick enough.

Not his finest moment and you’d gagged more than once but hey, it was all a bonding experience. Right? Or was that just his opinion on it? 

Still, Taehyung found himself pausing; his words sticking in his throat even as he mentally told himself to pull it together. You’d seen all his low points and his highpoints, he did not doubt that you would treat his question with the respect it deserves. But it was still a worry that you might turn him down.

Maybe you’d finally found someone else and wouldn’t want him anymore. The thought made his chest hurt, but he had to know. He had to get the answer to the question that had burned in his thoughts for years now. If you rejected him then he’d be hurt but he’d get over it, especially if it meant you found your happiness.

So why was it so hard to get the words out?

“Hey, are you okay?” Your shoulder bumps into his, pretty face dipping low to catch his eyes. He should have known that you would have realised there was something wrong, or that he wasn’t quite being himself. The way you look at him with such worry and concern makes his anxiety melt away, causing him to smile before he nods.

“I have something to ask you. I mean...you can say no. Please don’t worry about that, if you don’t want to then tell me no. I’ll accept it, I promise. You know I’d never try to force you, right?” He winces, realising that he’s messing this up already given the way your brow creases in confusion. “I mean, god I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry. I just...I have to be honest with you. I accidentally overheard your conversation the other month. I didn’t mean to, it was when you’d come home after your vacation and I’d fallen asleep so I was going back to my room and I overheard you.”

Taehyung is babbling, and he realises that when you gently press a finger to his lips. It would be nice to say that you didn’t look bothered, but there was fear on your face that made him feel sick.

“I believe you.”

Your words are so soft and he almost hums in delight as you run your fingers through his hair, grooming him without even realising. It makes him smile, both at your steadfast belief in him and how you always want to be touching and cleaning him in some way. His fingers itched with the desire to groom you in turn.

He restrained himself, fully aware that if he did then it’d just end up being one half an hour of you both trying to clean each other. The perils of two social hybrids who both have a culture and instinct for grooming. Not what he wanted right now.

The reassurance you give him, combined with the unwavering belief in your eyes, convinces him to just say it. To just get it out and lay his cards on the table. He was nervous, sure, but he’d been nervous many times in his life and he’d overcome all of those moments.

“I heard you say that you like me. In a romantic way. I was really surprised at hearing it, mainly because I didn’t think you’d ever looked at me that way before. Not when I’m the opposite of what you’d want in terms of a relationship. But I want you to know that hearing it made me the happiest I’ve been in a while. Because I like you too. And I have done for a while now. Years.” He says it all with a carefully neutral face, watching you carefully to see if he can gauge your reaction.

For a moment, your expression is a perfect picture in neutrality. The Switzerland of faces, giving nothing away and not letting him see anything that’s going on in your head. It’s frustrating for him when he’s probably feeling too much, but he doesn’t push. Just waits to see what you’ll say.

“What?”

Okay, so perhaps not the eloquent acceptance of his feelings that he’d expected. But it’s not an outright rejection. He can work with this, there’s potential here. 

Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before carefully shifting until he’s facing you on the couch. Your eyes are so wide, shining in the light and making him think it looks like you hold the secrets of the universe deep within. He can’t help but smile at it, at how young and innocent you look.

Smile at the tentative hope he thinks he can spy.

“I like you, Chirp. Like, like you. Probably would use a stronger word if I wasn’t already afraid I’m scaring you away. I know that I’m not what you’d want in a partner, which is why I’ve never made a move over the years. But I’ve always hoped, which is why I never got a herd of my own,

“I love being around you, I love hearing you sing and laugh, I love talking to you, I love hearing you talk to others, I love how you’re so affectionate and always want to groom me along with chatting my ears off. I never said anything though, because most of all, I valued our friendship. And I knew that you wanted someone who could be your life-partner, something I wasn’t sure if I could be.” Taehyung pauses, twisting his lips before looking down at his hands.

“But then I heard you talking and I realised that there might be a possibility. A small one maybe, but I knew I had to at last try. Something I want you to know though is that everything I’m about to tell you that I’ve done has been done for myself because I finally realised that I have to move forward with my life. So, firstly, I talked to my doctor and I’ve started some medication that helps to inhibit my instincts when it comes to relationships and sex.” Pausing, he eyes you to gauge how you’re taking the news.

The head tilt you give is very birdlike, causing him to chuckle without even meaning to. He can’t help it though, not when you look so sweet right then with your bright hair and big eyes.

“I don’t have the urge to have sex with lots of women or make my herd anymore. We talked about it extensively and decided this would be my best course of action to allow me to have a healthy, monogamous relationship. Because of that, I’ve also quit my job and taken up the offer Jimin’s been giving me for years now.”

Despite the fact he’s mid-confession to you, the excitement in his stomach at that very moment is more to do with the fact he was going to finally have his dream career. That he was going to be doing a job which he’d been wanting to accept for years.

Understandably, his words cause you to suddenly gasp in delight before you’re clapping your hands eagerly. The excitement and happiness are purely for him finally taking proper control of his life, ridding himself of the pornography career that he’d enjoyed but hadn’t loved. Something you’d known for a while now.

“Oh my god? You’re going to work with Jimin?! You took the job! TaeTae, I’m so happy for you!” Even though he’d just admitted to you that he was near enough in love with you, your emotions were purely focused on the fact he’d taken the job. Feeling your approval and genuine joy at his life change, he can’t help but give you a wide, boxy grin even while the apples of his cheeks turn a soft rose.

“Thanks, I think Jimin was more excited than anyone to be honest. Pretty sure he’s already organising a design space for me in his building alongside an office. Makes me feel kind of bad for waiting so long to take him up on it but I feel like I’m finally at a place in my life that I’m truly ready for that career change.” That seems to remind you of what he’d told you earlier, about his medication.

Your elated expression slowly fades and he watches in trepidation as your brow creased, the mood dimming. Were you unhappy with his choice? Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly.

“I want you to know that there is no pressure on you. For anything. I’m going to continue taking this medication because I want to focus on my new career without having to worry about any urges taking over. The side benefit to it means that...well,” He pauses for a moment. “I can have a proper relationship. Or at least, the kind of relationship that you’d want. If you want that. With me.”

There’s complete silence in the room and Taehyung feels the sudden urge to grab another slice of pizza and start eating. Just for something to do with his hands and to distract himself.

He doesn’t push though, just lets you process what he’s told you. It was a lot, so he wasn’t even particularly expecting an answer tonight. If he were being honest, then he wouldn’t be surprised if you took yourself off to your room for the night. Or even went to one of your friends to talk it over with them.

But as usual, you surprise him. You may be small and dainty compared to him, light as a feather and full of cheer, but your personality has always been big and bold. Which is why you tackle the topic head-on.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear, you know that right?” Is your first question and Taehyung nods quickly, reaching out to encompass your much smaller hand with his own. There’s nothing too familiar about the gesture, just a squeeze of reassurance to let you know he understands and isn’t mad or anything.

“I know. It was entirely my fault. I should’ve carried on as soon as I heard that you were talking but I just heard my name and...well.” He trails off, giving an awkward smile that causes you to smile in return. The gentle pressure on his hand makes him realise that you’re now trying to assuage his fears that you were annoyed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You may not have too many physical features of your animal side but you’ve got plenty of their abilities. We both know that you can’t control the fact that you can hear much better, so I don’t blame you. Nor do I blame you for stopping to listen. Especially when you realised what I was talking about,” Now it’s your turn to look abashed, gaze skittering away from his and down to your still joined hands. “I’d have done the same thing if I heard you talking about me.”

Swallowing, Taehyung wonders how he’s meant to respond to that. He didn’t know what he’d say anyway as his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies suddenly. Really big, horrible butterflies that are making him feel nauseous. 

“So yeah, I’m not angry or annoyed over that. Please don’t worry too much. If anything...I’m kind of glad. Because it means you’ve confronted this head-on and now we both know how we feel about each other. Which is that we like each other. A lot. In case it wasn’t clear, I like you too. Really like you. But I also thought it wouldn’t work because I know what I want and need from my partner in my life and I knew that your instincts clashed with that. Again, not your fault. You can’t deny nature and I tried to make sure that you never felt like I was.” There’s a hint of something in your voice but Taehyung can’t figure it out.

Pain? Embarrassment? Worry?

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get a chance to query it because you forge on. The sweet lovebird he’d known for years seems to be wavering between shyness at talking about your feelings and determination to have everything laid out.

He can understand the feeling.

“You know, I’ve fantasised about this for years, but now that it’s happening-”

“You don’t know how to communicate what you’re feeling and it’s all way more awkward and not nearly as romantic or sexy as you’d imagined?” Taehyung finishes for you, biting his lip as he grins broadly. You snort in amusement before nodding, playing with his fingers for a minute or so as you try to rationalise it all in your head.

“Did you go on whatever that medication is...for me? Like...because you wanted a relationship? With me? I know you’ve said it’s also because you wanted a career doing something you’ve always wanted but…” Trailing off, you can’t seem to look him in the eyes.

Carefully, he uses his free hand to lift your chin until he can see you. There’s a brief moment where you try to avoid his gaze before you give in, staring back just as deeply. Nerves, fear and hope are warring within him and he imagines that he can see it reflected in your own eyes.

“I’m not going to say no because overhearing your conversation was what spurred me to talk to my doctor. Finding out that you liked me back and that I might have a chance with you made me want to try to make sure you get the best of me. I knew that there are horse hybrids out there who have monogamous relationships and who are happy, but I didn’t think that would be a possibility for me. And given what I was doing for my career, I thought it was just better to carry on as I was,

“But then when I was talking to him about it all, I realised that it would help me in other aspects of my life too. Yes, I could finally offer you the kind of relationship that you want and that I want to have with you, but it would also let me leave behind the porn and start focusing on what I want to do. You know that I’ve never really been one of those stallions who wants a herd and the porn helped me to get rid of those urges without giving in to them properly. I looked into it for you, but I took it for me.” Licking his lips, Taehyung realises that he feels lighter.

Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he realises it’s because of what he’d told you. He’d been convinced that he was doing this to have a chance with you in the way he’d always dreamed of, but it was startling to realise that it was having such a positive effect in the rest of his life. For once, he was no slave to his instincts and had full control over himself, his emotions and his desires.

Just the thought of never having to do another film filled him with joy and happiness.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to have changed yourself for me. But given that you have...what does it mean? Tell me.” Those pretty eyes, so big and wide, watch him intently and he gives a small half-smile as he shrugs with one shoulder.

“I mean...it’s basically like an inhibitor I guess? Reduces the amount of testosterone I produce, makes me less reactive to the scent of mares in heat and all that. There’s a whole bunch of medical stuff that I don’t understand but I just know what the doctor told me. It’s safe, it’s been tested many times before, and if things don’t work out, then I can come off them and be back to my old self. It just means that I won’t have the desire to have a herd or to...well sleep with multiple women, you know? Let’s be monogamous, a one-woman man. Finally.” Chuckling to himself, he runs his fingers through his pale hair so it’s out of his eyes.

“So...we could be together? Like...in a relationship? Just me and you?” 

“Yeah. The doctor said that as long as I’m on the medication then I’ll be like any other human or hybrid who doesn’t have a poly instinct. Not that there’s anything wrong with that obviously, but it means we can be together. In the future, if you want to be in a relationship or something...then if we decide to have kids or to not have them, I can get gelded and that’ll get rid of the instincts permanently.” Now your eyes widen in horror, hand covering your mouth as you gasp loudly.

“Gelded? They’d castrate you?” There’s a glance down from his face to his groin from you and he can’t help but laugh at the thought. Even if it does make him want to cup his balls protectively.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay! It’s just a vasectomy. Because I’m a stallion, it’s called being gelded. After that, I’d be officially known as a gelding. No longer able to have babies and with no real instinct to make my herd anymore.” Thankfully you look relieved at that and he wants to tease you about being so worried about his testicles. But instead, he just feels happy that you don’t tease him in turn about talking about potential babies already.

That’s a good sign.

“Okay. Okay...so, let’s think about this logically. I mean, is that being too cold? You admit that you like me back and you’re on medication to allow us to be in a relationship and I’m saying we need to think logically?” Taehyung pauses you with a finger to your lips, a smile on his own before he carefully wraps his arms around your shoulders.

He makes sure to give you plenty of time to make sure that you can pull away if you want to if you’re not comfortable with this, but you don’t. Instead, you almost seem to relax into him and link your arms around his waist. You can probably feel his heart beating through his chest, the muscle working extra hard while he feels a little breathless.

It’s not the first time he’s held you, but it feels different this time. There’s something more intimate about it and he can’t help but take a deep breath in, enjoying your scent.

“It’s fine. I’m kind of glad because I’ve made a complete mess of explaining myself here. So at least one of us can think more logically about it.”

“You didn’t do a terrible job. I mean...I’m certainly not going to vote for you or anything but it wasn’t bad. My question to you then...are we dating now?” And just like that, Taehyung’s breath is taken away. To the point, he almost chokes on his spit and ends up having a coughing fit.

Directly into your face, ruining any hint of romance.

Yep, he’d truly fucked this confession up. Taehyung was just lucky that you’d known him for so long that it just made your nose wrinkle as you wiped at your face with your shirt, grumbling lightly before pushing his shoulder.

“Gross.”

“Sorry! I wasn’t expecting that though! I mean, you just straight up asked. I was expecting like...more talking and exchanging feelings. More awkwardness.” Leaning away from him, you give him a very droll stare that makes him wince. Well, at least it was awkward now.

“Sorry for not living up to those weird expectations I guess? I just figure that we’ve spent long enough dancing around each other, right? I don’t want to waste any more time or have any more miscommunication so if it’s too abrupt for you then I’m still not sorry. I like you, Kim Taehyung. And given what you’ve told me, and what you’ve done for me, I want to finally have that relationship I’ve been wanting for so many years.” The authoritative tone in your voice is more attractive than he’d expected, causing his brow to rise. 

Feisty.

“Okay. Yes. Yes, we’re dating. Together. We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I need to shut up.” Clamming up, he forces his mouth to shut and for his muscles to remain still. In reality, he wants to jump for joy and scream out that this was happening. Even if part of him is embarrassed that he’s incapable of talking now.

It’s all worth it though when you give him a huge smile, so big and bright and full of happiness.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Now he’s blushing; cheeks high and a delightful rose as he tries to contain his smile. He’s supposed to be cool, the epitome of an educated man who is extremely experienced around women. And yet here he is, acting like a teenager getting his first girlfriend.

“Not what I normally get called.” You’re the one who looks a little shy at that, your eyes darting away from his as you bite at your lip. There’s a hint of nerves to you now and something else, something he can’t quite figure out. The way you wiggle slightly in place has him frowning in confusion, wondering what’s made you suddenly so quiet. This was the behaviour he’d been expecting from you, so it felt a relief to finally get it but also strange given how confident you’d been.

“What’s wrong? Where’s my bold girlfriend gone?” Gently poking your waist, he tries to ignore the thrill that rises inside him when he calls you that. It was going to take some time to get used to it.

Thankfully, it also manages to breakthrough whatever shell you’d suddenly formed around yourself. Grasping his hand with your own, you let out a soft whine as he continues to prod at you and he quickly intertwines his fingers with your own. For a moment, he’s too busy staring down at your hand in amused awe to remember what he’d asked you.

“Your hand is tiny, you know that?”

“No, you just have huge hands. All of you is huge, just like all of me is small. The difference between a horse and a lovebird.” Now it’s your turn to push at his stomach, a small smile on your face. Taehyung grins at that, but he grins, even more, when he catches your eyes flicking down to his lap.

It all clicked into place in his head, from the way you got shy at him saying he’s not normally called cute to the way you call him huge. You’re not wrong; Taehyung is massive when compared to you. Denser bones add to it at all, allowing him to lift and move heavy weights with ease whereas you’d developed a lighter bone structure that was more reminiscent of birds.

Taehyung had never broken a bone before, whereas you had to be careful doing certain things. But the size difference between you both was made even more obvious when he thought about sex. He was bigger than most human and hybrid males down below, and he wondered if there was something wrong with him that the knowledge you knew that turned him on.

Not that you’d ever seen him naked or anything, but you weren’t stupid. He was infamous in the porn industry for a reason.

Which suddenly made him consider something, his head tilting slightly as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Have you ever watched my stuff? Like my films or anything? I know for a fact that some of them are on those free porn sites.” Biting his lip, he watches closely for any positive sign. One of the benefits of being a horse hybrid was that he was highly attuned to microexpressions in others.

Originally meant to watch out for danger and keep himself safe, it was more useful for getting an idea of where a conversation was going. It also made Taehyung feel very stupid that he’d never noticed you were in love with him before.

He doesn’t need to have any extra abilities to read your face right now though, not with how you look almost like you wish the floor would swallow you whole. You can’t even meet his eyes and it delights him.

“You have!” 

“No! I wouldn’t do that, you’re my best friend. That’d be weird.” Taehyung can sense the distress in your voice and he forces himself to tone down. He had no issues with the idea of you watching his stuff; if anything it was a turn on. But this relationship was so new that it had barely been born and he didn’t want to push your boundaries just yet. 

Still, he felt like he had a right to know.

“Hey, listen to me, it wouldn’t bother me if you did. I actually would find it a turn on to know you’ve watched me. I hope you weren’t upset though, I only did all of that to satisfy my instincts so that I could enjoy my time with you. But I made those films and videos for people to enjoy. If you got off to some of them that I’d consider it a job well done. Don’t feel embarrassed if you did.” Using his free hand, he lets his fingers trail along your cheek. It’s warm beneath his touch, the blood rushing in response to your tumultuous emotions and he reassuringly runs his thumb across it.

“You’re...you’re not bothered by the idea of that?” 

Taehyung chuckles at your disbelief and shrugs genially, making sure to portray an aura of calm and serenity. The only thing that bothered him about the idea of you watching his videos was that he was already sporting a semi at the very thought of his supposed ‘innocent’ best friend watching him railing some mare.

Which should be a terrible thought, but it just meant that he was all the more experienced for you. There would be no doubt in his mind that he could show you a world of pleasure that you’d never even imagined; as pompous and egotistic as that sounded.

Sex was his area of expertise though.

“I mean...I knew it was a risk when I started. I make porn. Porn is available freely on the internet and I fully expected some of my friends to be at least a little curious. Plus, there’s the whole ‘horse hybrid’ thing going on. I don’t tend to get embarrassed easily around sex. If anything, it’s kinda exciting knowing that you’ve seen some.” You’re giving him a look of pure confusion and he can’t help but laugh heartily. 

Oh, he loves you. He loves how befuddled you are at his refusal to adhere to your expectations. Given how reserved you were normally about sex and relationships, it was delightful to shatter your illusions surrounding him and make your perusal of his work sound like a benefit rather than something to be ashamed of.

“So...what did you think? You’ve never given me a rating before, so I’m curious.” Once more, your eyes dart away from his and he has to stifle a snort at how you suddenly find the wall so interesting. The artwork on there was nice, he’d picked it out himself, but it wasn’t that nice.

He doesn’t push though. What he wants is for this relationship to start on trust and honesty. So if you want to trust him enough to be honest about your opinion then he’d accept that. If it was still too early for you; he’d accept that too.

“It was good. I mean, I haven’t watched much. It was years ago and only a few minutes before I felt weird. Like I was spying on you. That’s it though! I swear I haven’t seen anything else. It felt like I was...perving on you or something.” Grasping at his hands desperately, you give him such big eyes that try to get across your honesty.

It makes his lips quirk in amusement and he links your fingers together once more, squeezing lightly. For a few moments, he considers how to respond to you before deciding to just go for it. Which means he slowly leans forward to you, eyes flicking down to your lips and giving you plenty of chances to pull away and leave.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a little bit of a relief, knowing you’ve seen at least something. But most importantly...can I kiss you?” Taehyung swears you deflate, your entire body seeming to relax with a deep breath you let out.

He’d be worried if it wasn’t for the huge grin that you have painted on your face now, the delight making your skin almost glow with health and happiness. It’s a beautiful look and he feels like he’s enraptured once more, falling in love with you all over again. At least now he has an outlet for these mushy feelings.

“Finally!” 

There’s only time for Taehyung’s eyes to widen in shock before you’re shaking your hands free of his own and grasping at his shirt. With a surprising amount of strength, you jerk him forwards and his lips crash against your own. That’s the only way to describe it, as it kinda hurts. His lips mashed against his teeth a little and his nose bumps against yours, causing him to whine.

You let him go almost immediately, looking intensely embarrassed as you rub at your mouth and nose. He does the same, making sure that there’s nothing wrong with his beloved nose while licking at his lips to soothe the dull ache. But then he can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and rumbling up from his chest as he contemplates what just happened.

Every time that he thought you would zig, you instead zagged. Over the years, he’d learnt to go with the flow with you in regards to this with his friendship but for some reason, he’d never quite realised that it would be much the same with a romantic relationship. You defied his expectations and made him feel like he was constantly on his toes.

He loved it, including when almost headbutted him with your first kiss.

“I am so sorry-” You start, your eyes wide and worry emanating from you. He shakes his head, trying to stifle his amusement before reaching out and cupping your face with a gentle touch.

“Okay, how about we try this again but...a little slower this time, yeah?” Keeping your face steady, he inches forward until he can feel your warm breath on his cheek. You’ve already closed your eyes in anticipation and he has to squash the desire to grin, instead fulfilling both of your wishes by pressing his lips against your own.

It’s a soft and gentle kiss at first, exploratory and uncertain. Neither of you knows how to kiss the other properly, or what the other likes, and so you both simply...take your time. Taehyung’s thumb strokes along with the softness of your cheek while your hands flatten against his chest, palms hot where they rest.

He’s kissed a lot of women in his life; some he’s proud of, some he’s not and some he doesn’t even care about. But this is the best kiss so far. Even as slow and unsure as it is, it’s still the best.

Because it’s you.

There’s more than a hint of inexperience in your kiss and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows that you’ve at least kissed a few people before, but you didn’t have a huge amount of experience in it. Instead, it’s just enough that he feels comfortable but not enough to have you take the lead.

So he does, instead. And given how bold you’d been earlier, he takes the initiative to be bold this time as well. 

With almost minimal strength required on his behalf, he slips his hands down to your hips and grips them tightly, lifting and depositing you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He doesn’t even make a noise as he does so, your weight nothing to him.

His ancestors had been bred for heavy lifting and pulling, after all.

What he doesn’t anticipate though, is the way you moan into his mouth or how you wiggle slightly at his action. Pulling from you, one brow lifts as he looks you over inquisitively. His question is silent, but you understand it immediately. There’s nowhere for you to look now, not when you’re so close to him.

So you stare at his chin instead, carefully avoiding his eyes as your hands move to play with his soft hair. The blonde strands are almost golden instead of platinum in the soft light of the nearby lamp, just visible in his vision from where you stroke them.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes.” The words are muttered and he gets the impression that you’re hoping he doesn’t hear. And that he won’t query it further. But he does, of course, he does.

“Do you have a strength kink, Chirp?” 

“Wha-no! That’s, why would I-” Spluttering, you lean back a little and take a moment to shuffle until you’re more comfortable on his lap. Your legs are on either side of his now, comfortable in their almost kneeling position but most of your weight is on his legs. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you closer, enjoying the warmth you give him.

“It’s cool if you do. I can fulfil that. Not yet though, if that’s okay. But I need you to know something right now. I don’t want us to have sex right now. Not yet. Since being a teenager, I’ve been obsessed with sex. An unfortunate side effect of being a stallion. For the first time in my adult life...I don’t feel an insatiable need for it. And it’s kinda nice. I don’t want us to start our relationship with sex. I want us to explore each other and our relationship first and then introduce sex. I need to learn that sex is something intimate and between only us now. I’ve spent too long viewing it as work.” He tries to make sure that his words are carefully said and that he’s not rushing them, but now he’s the one a little nervous.

You’d been far bolder than he’d ever expected and now he was worried that you might expect sex from him immediately. It was an easy, even acceptable, assumption to make given what he was and his career. But he didn’t want that. As he’d said, he wanted to start this relationship with love and trust.

Lust could come later.

There’s no answer from you for a moment and he sighs, letting his hands awkwardly stroke at your sides in an attempt to give them something to do.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you were expecting. Or not what you wanted. I’m a little surprised you’ve been so forward with me and-” A soft fingertip presses against his lips, causing him to quieten instantly.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and kiss him. It’s just as chaste as the one previously, only you’ve controlled yourself a little more compared to your first attempt. He takes solace in it though and now his body is the one deflating. There’s a silent acceptance in that kiss.

When you finally pull away from him, he finds himself chasing after you. It’s an odd sensation for him to do that without any intention of going further but he finds that he likes it. There’s no doubt that you can feel what’s going on in his pants; he can’t control everything after all but just because his body is saying yes doesn’t mean his mind is.

And you accept that. He can tell instantly, from the reassuring smile you give him and how you embrace him so warmly and carefully. 

“It’s okay, Tae. I’ll admit to being a little disappointed but I can understand your reasoning behind it. And I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I know you’d do the same for me. I guess it’s just going to make it better when we finally do get to it, right?” Teasing him, you stick your tongue out and poke at his cheek.

Almost immediately, his nose wrinkles and your laugh lightly. For a moment, the sounds are almost like chirping and he can see your lovebird origins so clearly. That was to say nothing of the fact that you were now subconsciously grooming his hair, fingertips running through the platinum strands and getting rid of any unfortunate kinks or knots.

“Thank you.” He whispers, letting his hands wrap around your waist until he’s hugging you. It takes minimal effort to have you plastered against him, head resting on his shoulder as he embraces you so tightly. You smell heavenly, and he wonders what he did to be given the chance to be with you after so many years.

“Can we go on a date though? I mean...like now?” Tilting his head back, he frowns before looking at the table and the pizza boxes.

“What? Where? We’ve already eaten?”

“Okay, but I’m kinda horny and you’re kinda horny and I think we both need to talk a walk and cool down. So...how about we have our first date? I’ve been waiting a while for this, Kim Taehyung.” Your smile is so big and bright, dazzling him and making his stomach flutter.

He doesn’t even realise he’s nodding until you practically launch yourself from his lap, rushing over to the door and chattering away. If he was being honest, he had no idea what you were talking about as you quickly pulled your shoes on and sorted out your bag.

Taehyung didn’t even care, because he’d done it. He had the girl he’d been in love with for years, who he’d been certain he had no chance with. You could regale him with a thousand and one tales and he’d listen to them all with a content smile because he was yours, and you were his.

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 27

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 27 - This Venerable One Will Cook You A Bowl of Noodles

Chu Wanning felt completely faint.

He blamed himself for being so distracted and unsuspecting on Life-Death Peak. He didn't even notice someone come over.

What was going on? Where did this child come from? His last name was Mo, but Mo. . . what was is again. . . ? Mo Shao? Mo Zhu? Mo. . . Yu?

He composed himself and put on an expression that screamed: "get away". The surprise and panic in his phoenix eyes were quickly masked by his usual harsh and threatening demeanour.

"You—"

He raised his hand out of habit to discipline him, but something suddenly caught his wrist.

Chu Wanning was stunned.

He had been around for a while yet no one had ever dared grab his wrist so casually. For a while, he was frozen in place, not knowing what he should do.

Pull it away and give him a backhanded slap?

. . . It felt like a good word to describe that would be "indecent," like he was no different from a woman in this situation.

Then pull his hand away and not slap him?

. . . Wouldn't that seem like he was being too nice?

Chu Wanning hesitated for a long time and didn't move but the young man laughed: "What's this on your hand? It's pretty good-looking, do you teach how to make stuff like this? Everyone else has introduced themselves already but you haven't spoken yet. Which elder are you? Hey, do you have a headache?"

With so many questions thrown at him, while Chu Wanning's mind hadn't hurt before, now it did.

His mind felt like it was about to split in half. . .

As he got irritated, a golden light in his hand started to glow. When they saw that Tianwen was about to be summoned, the other elders were horrified and moved - Chu Wanning was crazy, right? He would even dare to whip Young Master Mo?

Then, Mo Ran was suddenly holding his hand.

Now Mo Ran had trapped both of his hands. Mo Ran didn't up on the danger of his situation. He pulled him closer and stood in front of him. He tilted his head and said with a smile: "My name is Mo Ran. I don't know anyone here, but just from looking at you, I like you the most. How about I worship you as my shizun, okay?"

This was completely unexpected. The people around them were even more horrified. Several elders gaped with mouths ajar.

Elder Xuanji: "Huh?"

Elder Pojun: "What!"

Elder Qisha: "Oh?"

Elder Jielu: "Uh. . ."

Elder Tanlang: "Hah, ridiculous."

Elder Lucun was the most feminine of the bunch with wavy hair and eyes flooded with peach blossoms: "Ah, this little boy is so bold. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's ass."

". . . I beg you, can you not say something so repulsive?" Qisha said with disgust.

Lucun rolled his eyes gracefully and hummed: "Fine, let me put it more eloquently. He's truly a courageous young man. He might even be so bold as to touch Elder Yuheng's buttocks."

Qisha: ". . ." Just kill him and forget this ever happened.

The most popular of all the elders was the gentle and jade-like elder Xuanji. His techniques were easy to learn, and he was a modest gentleman. Most of the disciples on Life-Death Peak worshipped underneath him.

Chu Wanning originally thought that this Mo Ran would've been just like all the others. If not Elder Xuanji, then it should be the energetic Elder Pojun. It never should have been his turn

But Mo Ran was standing so close to him. His face showed a kind of intimacy and affection that was unfamiliar to him. He was like some clown that was just chosen. It was all so distressing for no reason.

Chu Wanning only knew how to deal with "awe", "fear" and "disgust". Something like "affection" was too complicated.

He didn't even have to think about it. He immediately rejected Mo Ran.

The young man froze. Hidden under his slender eyelashes, there was a sense of loneliness and unwillingness in his eyes. He lowered his head, thought for a second, and unreasonably muttered: "Anyways, I still choose you."

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

The Lord was watching with great interest. He piped in with a smile:, "A-Ran, do you know who he is?"

"He didn't tell me, how would I?"

"Haha, since you don't know who he is, why would you pick him?"

Mo Ran was still tugging on Chu Wanning's hands. He turned his head, smiling and said to the Lord: "Because he looks the most gentle and easiest to talk to."

In the darkness, Chu Wanning's eyes snapped open, everything appearing fuzzy.

. . . That was one hell of a scene to see.

He didn't know what the hell was wrong with Mo Ran's eyes back then to actually think that he was gentle. Not to mention that all of Life-Death Peak heard about it. They all sent affectionate greetings to Young Master Mo Ran with looks that said "look at this foolish kid".

Chu Wanning lifted his hand to the corner of his faintly throbbing forehead.

His shoulder hurt, his mind was in turmoil, his stomach was hungry, and his head was spinning.

It seemed like he wasn't going to sleep anytime soon.

He fumed on the bed for a while. He sat up and was about to light a stick of incense to calm his mind when suddenly there was another knock on the door.

Mo Ran was outside.

Chu Wanning: ". . ."

He didn't answer. He didn't say whether to stay or leave.

But this time, the door opened by itself.

Chu Wanning looked up gloomily. The lit match in his hand hovered in mid-air but never reached the stick of incense. After a while, it went out.

Chu Wanning said: "Get out."

Mo Ran strolled in.

He was holding a steaming bowl of noodles, fresh from the pot.

This time it was a bit simpler. The noodles weren't as fancy. The rich white noodle soup was garnished with chopped green onion and white sesame seeds, small spare ribs, bok choy, and a slightly browned poached egg.

Chu Wanning was incredibly hungry but he didn't let it show on his face. He glanced at the noodles, then at Mo Ran. He turned his face away and didn't say anything.

Mo Ran put the noodles on the table, and gently said: "I asked the inn's chef to make another bowl."

Chu Wanning lowered his eyes.

Sure enough, Mo Ran didn't make this dish himself.

"Eat some." Mo Ran said. "This bowl isn't spicy, has no beef, and no bean sprouts."

After speaking, he left and closed the door for Chu Wanning on his way out.

He apologized for Chu Wanning's injury.

But he could only do so much.

In the room, Chu Wanning leaned against the window, not knowing what to think. He crossed his arms and stared at the bowl of spare rib noodles from a distance until the heat of the noodles dissipated and they grew cold.

He finally walked over and sat down. He picked up the chopsticks, stirred up the cold and soggy noodles, and slowly ate them.

The case of the Chen family's haunting had been closed.

The next day, they picked up the black horses they had boarded from inside the stables and returned to the sect the same way they had arrived.

In the streets and alleys, tea stalls and rice shops, the people of Caidie Town were all talking about the Chen family's affairs.

The not-so-small town had broken out in scandal, one large enough for the townspeople to talk about it for a whole year.

"I didn't expect that Young Master Chen had been secretly married to Miss Luo for so long. Miss Luo is so pitiful."

"If you ask me, if the Chen family hadn't gotten rich, they wouldn't be able to survive this affair. Sure enough, men can't handle their money. Once they have money, only misfortune will await them."

One man was unhappy and said: "This wasn't Young Master Chen's fault. It's his parents' fault. Mr. Chen, that son of a bitch. His children and grandchildren should only give birth to children without assholes in the future."

Another said: "The dead are pitiful but what about the living? Look at Chen Yao, Yao Qianjin. She's the one who's truly been wronged. That black-hearted mother of the Chen family deceived her. Tell me, what should she do now?"

"Just get remarried."

The man rolled his eyes and sneered: "Remarried? Are you here to get married?"

The mud-coated man who was teased bared his teeth and picked at them, grinning: "If that woman at home agrees, I'd marry her. Ms. Yao looks so beautiful, I don't mind her being a widow."

"Bah, the toad wants to eat swan meat*."

(T/N: 癩蛤蟆想吃天鵝肉 - means having unrealistic wishes or expectations)

Mo Ran sat on the back of the horse, ears perked up, listening to all the conversations in high spirits. If it weren't for Chu Wanning's closed eyes, frown, and the words "extremely noisy" essentially spelled out on his forehead, Mo Ran might have wanted to go join the villagers.

They walked together and finally left the main city, arriving at the outskirts.

Shi Mei suddenly gasped and pointed to the distance: "Shizun, look over there."

In front of the ruined Master of Ceremonies Ghost's earthen temple, there was a large group of peasants in brown clothes and shorts. They were busy moving the bricks and stones. It seemed that they were planning to repair the damaged earthen temple and remould the golden body of the Master of Ceremonies Ghost.

Shi Mei said anxiously: "Shizun, the old Master of Ceremonies Ghost is gone but they've made a new one. Will this be cultivated into an immortal body again and do evil?"

Chu Wanning: "I don't know."

"Should we go and persuade them not to?"

Chu Wanning: "The custom of ghost marriages in Caidie Town has been around for several generations. How would you or I be able to persuade them in just a few words? Let's go."

As he spoke, dust flew up from the horse's hoof and he walked away.

It was already dusk when they returned to Life-Death Peak.

Chu Wanning said to the two disciples in front of the mountain gate: "You go to Danxin Hall and explain what happened. I'll go to the Court of Discipline."

Mo Ran looked puzzled: "Why would you go to the Court of Discipline?"

Shi Mei, on the other hand, looked worried: ". . ."

Chu Wanning nonchalantly said: "To receive my punishment."

Although it's said that an emperor commits the same crime as the common people, what emperor would actually have to go to jail for killing someone? The same goes for the cultivation world.

The elders who break the sect rules are as equally guilty as the disciples - in most sects, it's just empty talk.

In fact, if an elder breaks a rule, it was good enough just to write an apology letter. What fool would actually go to be punished with a willow vine or dozens of sticks?

So, after listening to Chu Wanning's explanation, Elder Jielu's complexion turned green.

"No, Elder Yuheng, did you really. . . did you really beat your client?"

Chu Wanning was indifferent: "Yes."

"You're so. . ."

Chu Wanning raised his stare and gave him a sullen look. Elder Jielu shut up.

"According to the law, for breaking this rule, the punishment is two hundred cane strikes, kneeling in Wushan Temple for seven days, and being forbidden from leaving the grounds for three months." Chu Wanning said. "I have no defence, and I voluntarily accept the punishment."

Elder Jielu: ". . ."

He looked around and hooked his fingers, and the door to the Court of Discipline closed with a clang. The surroundings fell silent, and it was only the two of them that stood opposite each other.

Chu Wanning: "What's the meaning of this?"

"Well, Elder Yuheng, it’s not that you don't understand the rules and their consequences, it's just that it shouldn't be something that you should be overly concerned with. This matter is finished. Let's forget it. If I beat you, won't the Lord be angry with me when he finds out?"

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk such nonsense with him and simply said: "I hold people accountable according to the law, and I should also be held accountable myself according to the law."

Kneeling down in front of the hall, facing the plaque of sect rules, he said:

"Punish me."

[heli0s-writes]

Clumsy

Summary: Serendipity, it’s the only way Steve can describe it. His ma was right: he’d always been slow.

Pairing: Steve Rogers/Reader

A/N: Fluff with a tiny sprinkle of Steve angst because I love one sad boi. Written for @wkemeup​​‘s 4K Challenge like an entire year ago!! I’m so sorry, Kas!! The prompt was Bright Eyes’ “First Day of My Life”. 2.8k words.

It was supposed to rain.

Thunderclaps rolled in the distance all morning. Moisture hung heavy in the air and the earth smelled like wet already--- salty, thick, sweet. The app on his phone blinked gray clouds straight across the screen. Seventy-three degrees and a nine-five percent chance of precipitation. Winds NE 20 miles per hour.

But at 2:30 in the afternoon when Steve slides into the car, it’s clear and blue.

So he figures it’s coincidence and poor meteorology when the engine quietly rumbles to life. He fixes the collar of his shirt, checks for hotels around the midway point, and sends an uneasy look to the empty passenger seat.

Then, he makes his way to where you are.

-

The two-lane country road stretches on. Winding and curving, pitch-black and howling with wind and wildlife. Bugs splatter on the windshield and he mechanically sprays a bit of fluid, wiping them off, the squeaks giving his radio a bit of rhythm in all this late-night talk. It’ll be another half hour before he gets to the hotel and he’s still wrestling with himself if he should even break.

No reason to now. He can drive all night. No reason to other than his pride.

“So what is it?”

There’s an imprint in the seat. An outline of a warm body folding soft creases in the leather. Late night talk radio fizzles out, and he’s tired, so he can’t get too upset at his brain for seeing the shape even though it’s been months since anyone’s sat there.

He chances a look over, then quickly back ahead because sure—the sedan is small, but this tiny strip of pavement feels even smaller. Too right and he’ll careen into the woods, too left and if another car’s coming around the bend Steve would roll out alive, but he’d be the only one.

He looks again.

Legs folded. Bare feet. Ankles crossed on the dash. Casually sitting with one hand on your phone and the other one behind your head, face lit incandescent by the screen. It was the first time he’d been alone with you after New York; he remembers this.

You hadn’t even given a glance sideways at him, still fixed on the screen, thumb sliding up and focused on mission details in a perfect picture of indifference.

“Your whole thing. Mister Red-White-and-Broody, most eligible bachelor in all of America—which, by the way, is so far up your ass all fifty states might as well be coming out of your mouth—”

“Stop it.”

“Okay, Rogers.” A smirk. His last name slipping between your lips like military title. “Fine, you’re all gilded in the front, suffering in the back. So—” You turned finally, pulled your feet back and tucked them under your body, “What is it?”

Steve pretended to think, left hand clenching a fraction tighter on the wheel, feeling its strength beneath his grip. His face remained impassive and dedicated forward, turning the seconds in his head, counting down the appropriate time for his reply.

It was a game, certainly. Your assertion, your poise, hand propping up your head—all of it. Your entire being was a foil to one Steven Grant Rogers and he was strapped with you for half a week. Already the car ride was beginning to foreshadow what was quickly seeming to be a long assignment.

“It’s my job—”

“So weak.”

“I’m busy—”

“Are you even trying to lie?”

You were known to do this: lay out a path of questions that only gave your company the pretense of a genuine conversation. You’d lead them like a wrangler leading horses to water, knowing they wouldn’t drink, but giving them just enough time to stare at their own reflection in the pool before you’d yank the harness elsewhere.

It was always a short path, but what you lacked in subtlety you made up for with honesty.

Agitated, Steve snapped before he could rein himself back in.

“What are you, my psychologist?” Horse.

“You don’t have one. You are the only Avengers Tower resident who has run off every psychologist on Stark’s payroll. So--” a twist of your torso, your back pressed up against the door handle as you stared at the outline of his side profile. Wrangler.

The question dangled in front of his gritted teeth. The answer he’d known long ago was behind two perfect calcium rows, pressed up, trying to find its way through the cracks.

What’s your thing? We fought together. We live together. We suffered a cataclysmic event in the form of aliens together---so why doesn’t anybody know you?

You leaned forward, body tilting until it almost touched your former footrest. Your head sloped to find his face and when he flicked his eyes sharply to yours, Steve knew it wasn’t sharp enough.

“You don’t want to be vulnerable.”

You’d led him through the brief route of your inquisition and had seen all you cared to see. Your voice bounced off the window when you closed your eyes and turned away.

“Steve,” you sighed, mouth going to the side in a smile. “Vulnerability is clumsy, but it’s the only thing worth anything.”

He had thought: No, it isn’t. He’d spent too long being vulnerable already, and he couldn’t afford it again. Twenty years of a miserable half-life and seventy years of sleep and suddenly the world was new and different and strange. Coming back into his body was new and different and strange but it was the body that afforded him invulnerability.

Mostly, anyway.

Steve decided, then, at least he could make up for that lump of mortality—that lump of weakness—with performance.

So, he became the blacksmith to his feeble Brooklyn boy heart. Forged carbon steel, gold-plated, immaculately polished like his own shield at press conferences. Smoothed himself into a monumental display of impeccable posturing and hid the boy away where no one could reach him. Let him go back to sleep, too. Frozen in a time long passed, long forgotten.

He wasn’t Steve Rogers anymore because no one knew Steve Rogers anymore; it was the only way he could carry on. Didn’t you know?

No, he supposed, you didn’t.

On the ride back you surrendered yourself to the backseat, laying down in the most comfortable position the sedan would allow, and chatted his ear off the entire ride home. Called him Steve and looked at him through the rearview mirror. Eyes met eyes, and yours crinkled at the edges with some secret knowledge.

By the end of it, all he could think about was how he didn’t mind the conversation and that his first name even sounded a little nice coming out of your mouth.

You shimmer in the passenger side until your hair hangs a little longer. His brown leather jacket is around your shoulders. A stretch of your arms. A stretch of your lips. Months passed and Rogers befell the man you knew during the Manhattan Crisis while he became Steve.

Steve on missions and in the field—On your six, Steve! Keep up, old boy. Steve at the tower and Steve in the gym— don’t touch my weights, Steve, you’ll throw your back out.

Steve getting the door and pouring the whiskey and letting you wear his jacket when you were cold. Finding you across rooms at parties because there was an easiness to your presence that calmed the crowd. Shooting pool and watching movies. Up late and out late and laughing until the early hours.

He was Steve, your friend, because he finally allowed himself to have a friend.

You change. Shimmer again until your hair is pulled back from your swollen face. A hospital gown crinkled around your shoulders. Asleep, cold. Too close to death, too close to him. He couldn’t even sit by your bedside, only standing by the door, shuffling from one wall to the other and watched the monitors with a too-loud and static-filled brain.

He was hesitantly Steve when you stepped too close to him on the balcony nights later, hand precariously hovering over that fragile boy heart, finally pressing down on it, feeling his delicate pulse thawing and crawling towards you. Tipsy smile and you tasted like whiskey and easy joy.

The kiss was clumsy, like you’d said. Vulnerability threw him back to the 40’s, all gangly limbed and ill, his lungs malfunctioning, his breath smothered in his mouth. He stumbled, but the banister held him up.

You didn’t mind that his knees felt boneless. You chalked it up to too much drink, but the touch of your still-bruised cheek abruptly burned down his throat—warm and smooth and cataclysmic until he caught sight of the way you winced as his hand cupped your tender face. Steve stepped back, then, and apologized for what he said should have never happened.

There was a small quiver from your shoulder before you quietly went back inside.

He cursed himself on the balcony. Cursed letting it all happen in the first place. Captain Rogers watched your retreating steps, burying the spark and the fire. And the boy must have cried in his ice-block coffin when he buried him again, too.

“Don’t look at me like that.” God, he’s going crazy. Poor night-vision and an addled brain causing him to scold an empty seat. “You stopped talking to me.”

His grip on the steering wheel tightens the way it does when you’re too deep in his head and he can’t get you out. Days without hearing from you smeared together in careful steps of a cagey dance. Comments always presented as half-truths—riddles he struggled to deconstruct. Breadcrumbs never leaving enough of a trail to lead him anywhere. He wants the harness back. Wants back your confident hand.

“You could have said something.” Steve scoffs, because you always had something to say. “Anything. You could have said anything. We were—friends.”

And hell, doesn’t that sound stupid out loud? Maybe it’s best that he’s got nothing but infinity beyond the sedan’s glaring brights and a million thoughts of unsaid words. It’s all useless, anyway. Best that he can get it all out now, talking to your ghost. It keeps all his thoughts in his head and keeps him from yelling every time he sees you not-looking, not-smiling, not-talking to him.

Steve flicks the wipers on again. Shuts off the radio. Shuts off the navigation. Takes the car off cruise-control to give himself something to do. He’ll stop overnight, after all.

Suddenly then, in the distance, two glowing eyes greet him steadily. Measured paces, in a firm and crisp trajectory, growing closer and closer. Glaring and vivid, beating the monotonous grind of nighttime out of him. His pinky moves, and his high beams flip to low beams, white giving way to yellow and the glistening road signs and tree-shadows in the distance slowly diminish.

Bleached spectral glaring of leaves and road signs soften ochre and brown, indigo dark. For a fleeting moment, even Steve’s enhanced eyes feel half-blind again as he readjusts to the pitch-black night barely lit. The car coming toward him does the same, highs blinking low and they pass each other in quiet understanding. In blind trust on the dark road, dependent on each other’s good faith to see it through.

He thinks of Sarah Rogers in a tiny Brooklyn kitchen, floral wallpaper yellowed and peeling behind her. One hand on an apron-clad hip, cooking interrupted by her son stumbling in dripping blood down his shirt, her other hand clenched around a wet kitchen rag.

“Steven Grant Rogers! Oh—wretched! What else can I say,” she’d sigh as she pressed it to his nose, “You do whatever you please, anyhow. You just put this on your face—and don’t think it’ll get you out of doing the dishes, either.”

“But—” he’d attempt.

She’d put up her hand, “Lord have mercy on any young woman that’ll have you. May she have your poor mother’s patient heart.”

His ma always called him slow. A dolt through and through. Quick to temper, but laborious to do much else. Common sense always took its sweet time-- took the long path home to get to Steve Rogers. In seventy-odd years, he hasn’t changed.

Better than coincidence and better than poor meteorology. Serendipity. It’s the only way he can describe it.

Like finding a crumpled up twenty in his pocket—or in his case, a five—enough then for a week’s worth of meals. Like having that nightmare— the one right before the plane crashes and instead of going down with it, he wakes up. Like expecting to drive five hours through a storm and stopping overnight, but instead it’s clear and blue as far as he can see.

The rush, the relief, the deafening joy that shuts everything else up and out.

Sarah Rogers was right: he’d always been slow.

So he careens back onto the highway from the service road, steadying his foot on the pedal and flies about fifteen miles faster than the speed limit says he should. The car is vibrating to a thrilled beat inside his chest. Steve can’t help smiling.

-

It was supposed to rain. All the way to the next mid-morning but the sky parts a brilliant orange sunrise and he nearly sprints to the door. He doesn’t wait for it to open all the way before he barrels in. A sliver of parting wood is enough, and Steve throws it wide with his enormous shoulders, kicking it shut firmly with his boot.

The imprint of your body on the couch is still warm—you, halfway across the room in alarm—real and even warmer when Steve gathers you into his arms. He’s been awake for over 24 hours, talking to himself, talking to your hallucination, so he apologizes when his teeth click against yours in a frantic kiss.

“Rogers--!”

You pull away, dazed, a little bit pissed off, but you cow the swirl of emotions into professionalism. “What are you—you’re not supposed to be here until late—did you drive through--”

“Steve,” he interrupts, “Steve.”

He’s so tired of the long road. Can’t stand another second of maneuvering in the dark down winding paths or broken streetlight avenues you’re not at the end of so he keeps his next phrase short: “I really like you.”

You raise your brow and brush the back of your knuckles over your lips, the light from the balcony streaming over your face. His hand tenderly brushes your cheek, the same one he touched all those months ago and you blink in surprise. Quick, calculating movements even as you lean gently into his touch.

“Steve…” you say slowly before your mouth pinches together in a poor attempt to hide the smirk threatening to surface. “You drove all night to… ask me to call you Steve.”

“Well,” he shrugs, “And the mission.”

“Right, the mission. The debrief didn’t mention that it required a lot of… kissing.”

“It came up recently; I haven’t adjusted the file yet.” He grins at your rolling eyes, your swollen lips peeling back to reveal a joyful display of teeth at his stubborn defiance.

“Took you long enough,” you mumble.

You place your hand over his chest, over his heart.

You kiss him and Steve hears himself sighing into your mouth. His cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you’re not letting go, and he presses his lips to yours a little slower, a little firmer, learning the ways you like to feel him there.

“Steve,” you breathe, and it paints him in the most galvanized care. “Steve,” you say again, and his eyes slip shut, like he’s being laid to rest. And maybe he is. Finally weary of lugging around all his armor, all his pretense.  

The boy emerges, thawing toward his name held sweetly in your mouth.

He fumbles with his awkward limbs—a newly birthed foal trying to find its footing—but you’re patient and enduring. He takes in his trembling body—knobby knees and gangly elbows. Inept gait still learning how to be. He takes the sights—white casting over the balcony. You, even brighter.

It was supposed to rain, but you link your fingers through his, leading him toward the open doors, smiling against a backdrop of sherbet swirls. He stumbles, but you’ve got him. A few short steps, just a few more, and Steve kisses you again in the sunbathed daybreak, resurrected and anew.