#I wish i had some big shallow bowl so i could give them a little bath to cool themselves off in

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Today's temperature forecast: "bird too hot" degrees Celsius

[latenitetea]

what a shame it would be - rodrick heffley

in which rodrick takes a few too many shots...

cw: underage drinking, swearing

word count: 3,228

~~~

Great victories deserve great parties.

That was the way of thinking at Crossland High School when it came to homecoming. After weeks of anticipation from the entire student body, the Crossland football team had defeated their rivals with one touchdown in the last five minutes of the homecoming game. It didn’t matter that half the school didn’t care much about football to begin with - with a victory that big, there were bound to be parties all over town.

As a varsity cheerleader, you weren’t surprised that you were invited to the biggest homecoming party in town. And you weren’t surprised by the atmosphere when you arrived, either.

Music blasted in your ears as you entered through the backdoor of the crowded house. Cheerleaders were laughing so loud you could feel it in your whole body, people were drunkenly dancing and making out with each other on the dance floor, and the football team was taking a celebratory round of shots for their biggest win. Hell, you even saw the student body council and academic decathlon team on the dance floor. Bottles upon bottles of all kinds of alcohol were being pulled out at the bar - kegs of beer, bottles of tequila and vodka, and a giant bowl of punch that was being spiked with a frothing drink. Still, the abundance of alcohol wouldn’t last long at a party this big. But before you could get to the bar to get your pick, you heard your name being called from across the room.

“Y/N!”

There were too many people covering your view to see who called you when you turned around, but you knew exactly who it was coming from. It wasn’t too hard to weave your way through the drunken couples and football players to find him.

Rodrick was leaning against the basement’s doorframe, wearing his favorite Converse, a pair of ripped black skinny jeans, and his Loded Diper t-shirt with a cargo jacket. He ruffled his unkempt, raven hair and took a long swig from his solo cup.

“Give me your keys.”

You raised your eyebrows, stifling a laugh. “Well, hello to you, too.”

After taking another sip of his drink, he held out his hand. Rolling your eyes, you took your lanyard and dropped your keys in his hand, which he put in the pocket of his jacket.

“There we go.” His mouth quirked up into a smirk. “I thought you said you’d never go to another homecoming party again after last year. You still owe me for that, you know.”

Memories of Rodrick holding you steady as you stumbled to his van and slurred your words resurfaced in your mind. You couldn’t hide the tinge of embarrassment that crept up on your cheeks.

“I wasn’t that drunk.”

“Do you or do you not remember me having to brush your teeth because you forgot how to do it yourself?”

Your once pink cheeks now turned scarlet. Still, you couldn’t help but laugh at the memory.

“Fine. But I definitely don’t owe you anymore after being the only reason you didn’t fail physics last year.”

He paused, taking another drink from his cup. You could tell the alcohol was beginning to slow his thoughts already.

“I guess I stand corrected.”

You cursed yourself for being sober, wishing you had more confidence to flirt with him. You swallowed the forming lump in your throat and attempted a compliment.

“Look at you, making yourself look nice for homecoming. You even got the new converse and eyeliner and everything.”

God, that couldn’t have been worse. You mentally facepalmed yourself as the words left your mouth.

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve gotta make myself look nice if I’m gonna get one of these cheerleaders to go home with me, right?”

Your embarrassment dissipated into a twinge of disappointment. Quick to cover up any sort of reaction, you cleared your throat.

“I’m gonna go get myself something to drink. See you around, Rodrick.”

You heard him call out a warning about “knowing your limits,” but you didn’t turn around or respond. At first, you were only planning to get buzzed tonight. Your disappointment, however, made a change to your plans.

“Hey, Y/N,” your friend, Allison, said from the bar with a wave. “What do you want to drink?”

“Something strong,” you insisted. With a nod, Allison filled a solo cup with vodka and topped it off with the frothing punch.

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” She asked as she handed you the cup. You took a swig, ignoring the way the alcohol burned your throat.

“Who knows,” you sighed. “I just got back from talking to Rodrick.”

Allison raised her eyebrows. You paused for a moment, but you gave in to the temptation of getting your feelings out. “Every time I try to flirt with him, I feel like he ignores it. Or worse, he just brings up other girls.”

“Maybe you’re just not flirting hard enough,” Allison suggested. Her comforting smile became smug, pointing to the solo cup in your hand. "Or maybe that liquid courage will finally get you to tell him how you feel.”

The taste in your mouth turned sour at her teasing. Last year’s drunken shenanigans seemed harmless compared to any hypotheticals of you blurting out “Hey Rodrick, I’ve had a crush on you since last homecoming!” and forgetting it by morning. You placed your cup on the bar, deciding that your original plan of a buzz was the safer option. “Actually, I think I’m gonna stick to beer tonight.”

Allison let out a laugh. “Whatever you say. But your feelings are gonna eat you alive at some point. You’re gonna have to tell him how you feel eventually.”

“Emphasis on eventually. See you, Allison.” You gave her a small wave and went out to the dance floor, hoping to find some of your friends and dance your way into forgetting about Rodrick.

~~~

As the wild night began to die down, waves of stumbling high schoolers started leaving the party. Watching the clock hit 3 AM, you decided that it was time for you to head home. Waving goodbye to your friends, you made your way out of the house and to your car, more than ready to open the door and practically fall asleep at the wheel and-

Damnit.

That asshole still had your keys, didn’t he?

Pulling out your phone, you called Rodrick, nearly praying that he didn’t already leave. As you put your phone to your ear, you heard another phone’s ringtone go off. Muttering a “what the hell?” under your breath, you looked up from your car.

Rodrick was standing on the sidewalk across the street, holding onto a streetlight pole as though it was taking everything in his power not to fall.

A noise of both amusement and concern left your lips, and you hung up the call and made your way over to him.

“Hi,” was all he said. His eyes were glazed over and a sheepish smile was spread across his face.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Oh, how the tables turn, huh?”

“I don’t,” he paused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You let out a laugh. “You’re drunk off your ass.”

“No, I’m not!” He blurted out defensively. You cocked your head, giving him a do-you-really-think-you’re-gonna-convince-me look. After a moment, he sighed. “Maybe I’m a little drunk.” He let out another sigh, but it quickly turned into a fit of giggles.

Suppressing the thought that his drunken giggles were extremely cute, you draped his arm over your shoulders. “Come on, drummer boy, let’s get you home.” Rodrick leaned his bodyweight into your side, trying not to fall in the middle of the street.

“I like that nickname.”

“Where’d you put my keys?” You asked him. Instead of answering, he broke into another fit of giggles. With a sigh, you pushed down your embarrassment and started rummaging through the pockets of his jacket. He leaned his head into the crook of your neck, making butterflies swarm in your gut. You tried your best to ignore them and finally pulled out your keys from his pocket, helping him into the passenger seat of your car.

“Wanna hear something funny? I wanted to take home the cheerleader with me. But now the cheerleader is taking me home.” His smile turned into a smirk as he buckled his seatbelt, and you reminded yourself that he was only joking.

“You’re a pervert.”

“You’re pretty.”

Your eyes widened at what Rodrick had just said. The next second, you couldn’t be more thankful that it was too dark to see the blush on your cheeks. You believed that he meant what he said for a second, but the smell of alcohol on his breath brought you back to reality.

“You’re really drunk.”

“You’re really pretty.”

Instead of responding, you started the car and turned on the radio, hoping that it would act as a distraction.

Pulling out of the driveway, you started the drive home. You heard Rodrick laugh again from the passenger’s seat. And then he placed his hand on your thigh.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you tried to stop your breathing from turning shallow. “What are you doing?”

“Flirting with you.”

Your cheeks burned at his direct manner, but you reluctantly took his hand off your thigh. “You can’t flirt with me when you’re drunk.” Pulling into his driveway, you helped him out of your car and to his front door. You grabbed the spare key from under the doormat and opened the door.

After helping him to his room, you filled up an empty glass with water and grabbed a bottle of pain medicine from his kitchen, bringing it upstairs and placing it on his nightstand.

“Here’s for tomorrow when you have a hang-“

“I don’t remember how to take off my shoes.” Rodrick looked up at you from where he was sitting on his bed, his blank stare turning into another eruption of laughter. “I sound like you right now.”

You sighed, letting out a chuckle. You took off his Converse and his jacket, placing them in his closet.

“Well, as long as you don’t need anything else I better get going-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Rodrick grabbed you and pulled you onto his bed. “Can you stay a little while?” Your cheeks burned even brighter, and you knew he knew it too. His flirting was overwhelming; you thought you were going to explode from the butterflies. Still, you managed to stay somewhat composed.

“You need to sleep.”

“I don't want to sleep.”

You shook your head, but the look on Rodrick’s pleading face was enough to convince you. “Fine.”

“Why don’t you let me flirt with you?”

“What?”

Rodrick was looking directly at you. “I always try to flirt with you. And then you act like I’m just joking.”

You wanted to tell him that he didn’t know what he was talking about, that he was just drunk and the alcohol was talking. But Allison’s words of advice were echoing in the back of your head.

You’re going to have to tell him how you feel eventually.

“Because I didn’t think you could ever be serious about actually liking me.”

His eyebrows furrowed in disbelief. “Of course I’m serious. You’re the prettiest girl in school, you like good music, and you’re just so nice. And pretty.”

You let out a chuckle. “I bet you weren’t thinking those things when you were brushing my teeth for me last year.”

"Yes, I was," He moved a piece of hair from your face. “That’s when I realized I had feelings for you, Y/N.”

The smell of alcohol on his breath was enough to make you want to burst into tears. Here you were, laying on Rodrick Heffley’s bed, close enough to make out the dark outline of his pupils, and you were confessing how you felt for him. And he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning.

“Can I kiss you?”

His abrupt question silenced your thoughts. “What?”

He closed his eyes and started leaning in for the kiss, but once you processed what he had just asked, you pulled away. “Not right now.”

“Why not?”

You took a deep breath, trying to slow your racing heartbeat. “Tell you what. If you wake up tomorrow and you decide that you still want to kiss me, you can kiss me.”

He thought about your offer for a moment. “Okay. But tomorrow feels so far away.”

“Tomorrow won’t feel far if you go to sleep.”

He smiled and buried his head into your side. “You’ll stay until I fall asleep, right?”

“Right.”

“Promise?���

You felt the urge to cry again. You knew that every promise made tonight would be broken by tomorrow.

“Promise.”

You laid in his bed as his breathing slowed into soft snores. Taking one last look at him, you gently climbed out of his arms. As much as you wanted to stay, wanted to wake him up and confess every feeling you had for him, wanted to kiss him and kiss him and kiss him, you knew that would be wrong. You had to ease the inevitable future pain as much as you could.

So you grabbed your keys and left, not finding it in you to look back.

~~~

When Rodrick woke up, he could barely find the energy to open his eyes. The ache he felt across his entire body was throbbing, but he fought the urge to give in and go back to sleep. Opening his eyes, he saw a glass of water and pain medicine sitting on his nightstand.

Considering how awful he felt, there was no way he put that there. Taking two of the pills and downing the glass of water, he tried to connect some of his memories of the night before. As the medicine started to set in, some of his fuzzy memories began to clear. Taking a shot of tequila with his bandmate, taking another shot of tequila with his bandmate, your face turning bright red when he reminded you of when he took care of you last homecoming.

Even though he’d never find the courage to admit it, you looked cute when you blushed. And he always seemed to have butterflies in his stomach around you after last year's homecoming party. But there would be absolutely no way he would ever admit that.

You probably were the one that got him home last night. He couldn’t help but feel embarrassed that you saw him that drunk, even if he’s seen you even drunker before. He hoped he hadn’t said anything too humiliating to you last night.

His stomach twisted with another wave of embarrassment. What had he said last night?

He stood up, noticing your jacket laying on the other side of his bed. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and unknown embarrassment. He picked up your jacket and grabbed his keys to his van, ready to give it back and thank you for getting him home last night.

But when he picked up the jacket, more memories flooded his mind. You laying in his bed, him pulling the hair out of your face, you being close enough to him that he could have kissed you.

Oh, shit.

He ran to his closet and threw on his converse, too frantic to even tie them. Running out the door, he practically jumped into his van and started the drive to your house.

~~~

You sat on your porch, drinking a cup of coffee and enjoying that crisp October air on your cheeks. Thankful that you didn’t have even the remnants of a hangover, you were certain that every upperclassman at Crossland was sporting a massive one.

You opened your phone and anxiously twiddled your thumbs at the keyboard. You wanted to text Rodrick and ask him how he was feeling, but you were too nervous to contact him after last night. Hell, you weren’t even sure if you would ever be able to look him in the eyes again.

Your concern for him overshadowed your embarrassment. No matter where your relationship with him stood after last night, you still cared about him. Pulling his contact up on your phone, you typed a short message.

Morning, sleepyhead. You feeling ok after last night?

But just as you were about to hit send, you saw a van barreling down your street from your peripheral vision. You didn’t need to see the messy writing on its side to know who’s van it was, either.

Your heart dropped to your stomach. Did Rodrick remember what happened last night? Was he here to reject you, to tell you that he couldn’t even be friends with you anymore? You wanted to run inside your house and pretend you weren’t home, but you felt frozen in place.

The van pulled into your driveway, and Rodrick stepped out from the driver’s seat. He was still wearing the same outfit from the night before, but he had his drumsticks in one hand and your jacket in the other. He ran up to your porch, almost frantically.

“Y/N?” He said.

You took a shaky breath, trying to act as casual as possible. “Hey, Rodrick, you feel okay after last night?”

“I’ve had worse hangovers. Er, you left my jacket at my house.” He handed you your jacket.

“Thanks.” You shifted on your feet nervously, looking for the right thing to say. See you Monday? Sorry I confessed my feelings to you last night?

Rodrick looked down at his feet. “Can we talk?” He blurted out.

A plethora of curses went through your head, and you felt the urge to run into your house and curl up in a fetal position until you disappeared. Still, you stayed standing where you were.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Last night, did we,” he anxiously twirled his drumsticks in his hands, “did we kiss?”

Your eyes widened. He did remember last night.

“Well, you wanted to kiss me.” Your stomach churned, and your head was swirling with so many thoughts that you couldn’t stop talking. “But we didn’t kiss because it was just the alcohol talking and I know you didn’t actually want to kiss me and that last night was just the alcohol and I get that you wouldn’t want to kiss me which is totally fine and really it’s no big deal-“

“It wasn’t the alcohol talking.”

Rodrick looked up from the ground and stepped closer to you. You had never seen him look more serious in your life.

“Y/N, everything I said last night. I meant it.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve... I’ve felt this way about you for a while. And I know I’m not a serious person, but I am really serious about this. And I really, really like you.” He took another step closer, and once again, he was close enough that you could see the outline of his pupils.

“So about that promise we made last night,” your breath hitched in your throat, “I think it would be a shame if we broke it.”

“You’re right,” Rodrick’s shy smile spread into a smug grin. He lifted your chin so your faces were barely inches apart.

“It'd really be a shame, wouldn't it?.” He said, closing the gap between your lips.

[the-blind-assassin-12]

A Bad Option for Close Quarters

PART OF THE VIPER & THE WILD THING COLLECTION 

A/N: Hey there, Prince Oberyn party people! Before we get started in this one, I want to say a huge THANK YOU to everyone for all the encouragement and kind things that you had to say after I posted the first part of this collection. I was and still am nervous to take on Oberyn, so reading the comments that you left really made me feel less nervous. You are Great!! 

A/N 2: And now I have to talk about serious stuff- this part does have some sensitive material in it that may be difficult for some to read. I don’t normally put big red warning stickers on my work, but this one feels like it warrants it. Please as always read the content warnings and if you are still unsure, know that you can always send me a message to ask specifics. 

Warning: language, violence, blood, injury, abuse (physical & sexual in nature) death, NO LIKE ALL THE WARNINGS APPLY. general brothel un-pleasantry. 

Word Count: 4.9k

Summary: Oberyn has made it clear that you are his favorite way to pass the time while he is in King’s Landing, and you are perfectly happy with that. But not everyone is.  

“‘Bout fuckin’ time.” 

You heard him before you saw him, lined up a few heads behind the front of the procession of prostitutes spilling into the brothel’s main chamber, but there was no mistaking his rough voice or the lowborn accent he tried so hard to hide when he spoke in the presence of others. Shit. You had known him long enough to pick him out from a legion of men by sound alone. Or smell. 

It was Gannon Yast, a foot soldier in the Lannister army who had saved up his coins for years to purchase his surname from a forger on the black market. Like you, he had been born on the streets of King’s Landing, and like you, he was just another drop in the bay, another bastard bearing the name Waters. But unlike you who knew what you were, Gannon had always been subject to outlandish fantasies and truly believed the lies he told about himself and his upbringing. He had been spinning them in his own mind for so long that by now there was surely an elaborate tapestry depicting the lineage of a House that had never existed. 

House Yast. The very thought made you roll your eyes. His sigil could be the pot he bought himself to piss in on a shit brown background. 

The penalty for falsifying documents such as the ones that Gannon had illicitly procured ranged from execution to public flogging and time in the dungeons beneath the Red Keep. To him, imprisonment in a cell was no worse than suffering the flea bitten life his birth name chained him to. Since he wasn’t so bold as to impersonate a nobleman, he knew that he wouldn’t lose his head, and to him it was worth the gamble. 

You didn’t share his viewpoint. You had heard stories, rumors, about female prisoners and the things that had been done to them at the hands of the Gold Cloaks, and while you had no idea how true they were you were not at all interested in finding out. If you were going to get fucked by Lannister guards and soldiers, you may as well be paid for it. Forged proclamation of respectable provenance wasn’t the only way out of King’s Landing, and you’d also been saving your spare coins, few and far between as they may be, for passage across the Narrow Sea and out of Westeros. Even if it would take you a lifetime to save, you would rather hoard what you could over decades than spend even one night in those dank caverns. 

Unless Oberyn actually… You had done your best not to dwell on the offer he had made you to leave the city with him, to live free in the Kingdom of Dorne. He hadn’t mentioned it again though you had been with him several times since. Six. Six times in eleven days. It wasn’t as though you were the only one of Litlefinger’s whores that the Prince and his paramour came to see. The only one he chose every time though. The only one he spent an entire night with. You shook your head and followed Dria, one of the other girls who had been there nearly as long as you had, into the chamber where Gannon and two others were waiting. Even if he truly meant to make good on his offer, his departure from King’s Landing was still weeks away. Anything could happen in that much time. He could make promises to half the whores here about- 

The thin curtain separating the hallway from the main reception chamber was still billowing near your ankles when you felt Gannon’s meaty hand close securely around your wrist. He yanked you straight out of line, much to the dismay of the other men in the room, the girls in front of and behind you scrambling out of the way so as not to get tripped up by your sudden departure from the lineup. Biting the inside of your cheek to hide the grimace on your face at the twisting and pinching of your skin beneath his rough fingers, you stumbled into his hold. Shit. From the corner of your eye you saw Dria sneering at you as she draped herself over the shoulder of one of the other infantry men, and you knew it was because she was bitter about how much time you’d been spending with Oberyn and Ellaria while she and the others were left to serve the lesser customers like Gannon and his acquaintances. Jealous witch. 

You didn’t have the chance to sling a glare back at her, Gannon spinning you around to catch your chin in his free hand, the other releasing your wrist to grab at your ass. Squeezing both to the point of pain, you let out a small muffled sound as he brought your face close to his own. 

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t that fuck-drunk prince’s prized little cunt.” His breath reeked of stale ale and whatever the slop stalls were serving up in their brown bowls that week, his clothes and hair soaked in the bodily stench of a soldier who had been away for long months. He drew his lips into a vicious grin, continuing to grope your flesh through the gauzy sash that barely covered you. The stark contrast between his touch and Oberyn’s made your skin crawl and your stomach turn. You knew that the next time you saw the Prince you’d likely be riddled in bruises and marks left behind by Gannon’s greedy grip and forceful fingers. What will he think of that? 

Your mind provided a quick answer, the way he had looked at you when you told him how you ended up working as a whore in King’s Landing flashing in your memory, his eyes filling with pain, anger and dark fire. He won’t like it. At all. 

Dria’s shrill laughter met your ear as the man she’d been pawing at picked her up and brought her into one of the private pleasure chambers, the door slamming behind them. The third man in the room seemed happy enough where he was, two of the remaining girls already stripping each other of their sashes and teasing him with the perfumed fabric. Those unselected by the men were already shuffling back down the hall, waiting to be called when the next batch of customers arrived. You longed to join them even if it meant forgoing pay for the afternoon, but wishful thinking wouldn’t get you out of this. 

Nothing could. 

You’d been anticipating this encounter since you caught word that the Lannisters were bolstering security around the city leading up to the Royal Wedding. You knew that meant low ranking soldiers like Gannon would be flooding the inns and brothels. The fact that Oberyn had been monopolizing you, keeping you from giving Gannon the homecoming he clearly thought he was entitled to only exacerbated the man’s jealous anger, his lack of patience, his belief that he was owed things from you and your body.  

The man who was currently claiming as much of you as his fingers and thumbs could fit between them broke through your thoughts, continuing to snarl his displeasure over your recent unavailability. “You had me settle for scraps while you fucked that southern shit,” he snarled, spit flying from his lips to land on your cheek. “Every time I came looking for this,” the hand that had been squeezing your ass slipped between your legs as though you of all people needed him to explain why he was in a brothel. You winced, every last fiber of your being trying to recoil from him and finding nowhere to go. “Every fucking time, you were in that room bouncing on that peacock’s prick.” He turned you roughly towards the room that you had utilized several times with Oberyn on his visits and shoved you towards it. “I could hear you in there. You made me fuck scraps while I listened to that and-”  

“I didn’t make you fuck anything, Gannon.” Knowing that you were only making him angrier in your struggle didn’t stop you, and even though he was twice your strength you did what you could to resist the way that he was steering you into the private chamber. “It isn’t my fault that you have to buy time in bed with a woman because no one who wasn’t forced to fuck you ever would.” You bit your words at him only because his flesh was too far from your teeth. “It isn’t my fault that-” 

He timed his backhand with the slamming of the door that he had just pushed you through, releasing his grip and driving the knuckles of his right hand across your face so that you fell hard to the stone floor. Your knees and palms made blunt contact and you knew that as soon as the white hot ache tearing through your skull subsided, pain would erupt over those areas too. Fuck. Letting out a small groan, you tried to crawl away if only just to turn back towards him to see the next blow coming, one scuffed and scraped palm coming up to your already swelling cheek. You could feel warm blood pooling in the shallow cut there, saw a drop fall to the floor as you inched yourself closer to the wall, and though you knew it was likely that he would hit you again, while your body throbbed with the raw, abusive way he was handling you, you didn’t regret saying what you did. 

Gannon Waters was a pile of shit in the gutter, and no forger could change that no matter how fancy the calligraphy on the falsified lineage documents looked. He was foul and filthy and that had nothing to do with which surname he paid for. He was a rotten being and it had nothing to do with where he was born or how many golden coins he could rub together, and suddenly you couldn’t bear to keep those opinions from leaping from your tongue. Not when you’d seen and known better men well before you ever even met Oberyn. The men you served were not always like Gannon, seeking only to assert dominance and demean the unlucky prostitute who didn't feel quite as unlucky until he put his hands on them. Not all of them were despicable and suddenly you had reached a threshold for what you were willing to accept without at least letting loose your venomous feelings, consequences be damned. 

Before you could get too far though, you felt his tight grip wrap around your ankle to yank you back towards him, your knees both hitting the floor again as he did. You let out another involuntary cry, trying in vain to kick free of his grasp, aiming for his chin if at all possible. He thwarted your attempts with another hard pull, dragging you closer so that he could hold himself above you, trapping you between his limbs with one hand pressed firmly over your mouth. “You’re going to regret the day you turned me down, you little cunt.” He seethed as he tore at the sash that somehow still covered your lower half as he dropped his heavy weight on you, the hilt of the sword he still wore and the buckle of his belt scraping at your skin to leave indents. “You could have been my wife, could have had a name, but you wanted to be whore, and I am going to make you regret that choice no matter how many times you fuck that Dornish dog. I’m going to make you regret that until the day that you die, do you hear me?” 

“I hear you.” 

It was Oberyn’s voice that you heard next, and at first you thought it was just a trick that your mind was playing on you, dizzy from the strike and the fall, wishful thoughts sweeping in to carry you away from consciousness. What? How is..?

The dangerous vibration in Gannon’s voice, the unhinged way that his eyes were twitching, the crushing grip he had on you, all of it made your world shrink to just those things, just what you could see and feel and hear. Which meant that you hadn’t noticed the door bursting open, hadn’t heard the shouts or the hurried footsteps of two figures as they rushed inside, hadn’t fully registered what was happening as Gannon was hoisted off of you and slammed into the hardwood table that stood in the center of the room. Someone was pulling you to your feet, wrapping a pair of warm arms around you, murmuring your name and pleading with you to look at them. 

Shaking in shock, you managed to turn your head and focus your eyes, blinking them furiously to force the room to stop spinning. Ellaria? As soon as you recognized the woman you let yourself collapse into her, feeling as she let out a sigh and strengthened her hold on you to keep you on your feet. “You’re alright now.” She spoke softly in your ear as she led you closer to the small table beside the bed where a wash bin and cloth had been set out. “Come here.” Without letting go of you, she reached for the white cloth and dipped it in the cool water before bringing it up to your cheek, the soothing relief of the soft fabric instant as she gently pressed it there. She continued to hush and soothe you, letting you lean into her, and more quickly than you would have thought possible you felt your breathing return to normal, the adrenaline still pounding behind your eyeballs, but allowing you to make sense of what was happening at least. 

Oberyn and Ellaria… they must have come in just after… and then they-      

“I heard you,” Oberyn growled at the man again as he used his agility to duck Gannon’s reactionary swing, slamming him into the table’s surface once more. Using the momentary disorientation, Oberyn disarmed the man before Gannon could fully unsheath his long sword, simultaneously forcing the man into a seated position in one of the chairs that hadn’t gotten knocked to the ground in the fray. “Now tell me why I should let you live.” He moved one hand to the back of Gannon’s neck and pressed hard until the man began to choke out, gasping and gesturing to the Lannister crest emblazoned on the leather chestpiece he wore, and Oberyn released his grip enough to lean back and glance down at the embroidered lions, a look of mock appraisal pulling his handsome features into a cruel mask. “A soldier? Is that what you are trying to say? That I should let you live because you are a soldier?” He scoffed, shaking his head as he tossed the sword aside. “No, no, no,” Oberyn chided, the skin over the knuckles of his left hand stretched tight over the other man’s neck as Gannon fought to free himself from the Red Viper’s hold. “You are not a soldier.” 

The dented steel clattered noisily against the stone floor, skidding halfway across the room to where you and Ellaria stood, the woman stopping its momentum by placing the sole of her sandal atop the flat width of the blade. She still had one arm around your waist, the opposite hand still covering yours to help you keep the cool cloth pressed to your bloodied cheek. Eyes never leaving Oberyn, she turned only enough to whisper into your ear. “He’s going to make that swine pay for what he did to you,” she told you, leaving a comforting kiss on your uninjured cheek. “I promise.” 

You didn’t doubt it. Ignoring the ache, your upper lip curled as you eyed the man who struck you. “Good.” From the corner of your eye you saw Ellaria’s mouth lift into a grin at your response while Oberyn shifted his grip from behind Gannon’s head to one of his wrists, forcing his fingers to splay open atop the carved wood. 

“You are not a soldier,” the Prince went on, “I am sure of this because a soldier would know better than to draw his longsword in such close quarters. No, I don’t think Lannisters have soldiers. That word implies training. Dedication. Skill.” Leaning closer, he paused to allow his voice to fill with disdain, then looked over to where Ellaria’s foot held the weapon in place. “You are just a sack of meat with a pointy sword that is too far away to save you now.” Gannon began a string of swears then, but Oberyn didn’t let him finish it, cutting him off with a question. “Do you know why King’s Landing is such an ugly place?” He used his free hand to grab the sniveling, shaking excuse for a soldier by the jaw. 

You shivered, watching his fingers dig in with enough force to leave deep bruises if not crack the bones beneath them.  How are those the same hands that he- With a rough twist he forced Gannon’s face in your direction, left hand still pining the other man’s wrist to the table. The man who only moments before had been holding you down even more harshly actually had the audacity to shoot you a pleading glance, the fear in his eyes begging you to call off the attack. Fuck you, Gannon. You narrowed your eyes at him and spat blood onto the blade Oberyn had stripped him of. 

Dropping his level he lined himself up directly beside the coward. Releasing the man’s chin as roughly as he’d grabbed it, he turned in your direction. You saw a quick flash of pain in his eyes as he looked at you, and though it was gone before you were truly sure it was there, you felt it in your chest. Oh, Oberyn, it’s… I’m alright. 

As though he could hear your thoughts, he blinked and the remnants of the flash were gone, replaced with renewed anger. He swiveled his head to face Gannon once more. “Because worthless fucking shits like you destroy all the beautiful things.” With lightning speed he reached for the short dagger hanging from his own belt to unsheath it and dragged it across the tabletop. Gannon’s chair shifted as he tried in a desperate panic to distance himself from the glinting edge of the razor sharp weapon, the rounded legs scraping the stone floor as Oberyn brought the crooked dagger to hover over the man’s pinky finger. “Do you know what we do to men like you in Dorne?” He rested the edge of the dagger between the top and middle knuckles of Gannon’s last two digits, a thin crimson line appearing beneath the blade before it had even had the chance to bite into the skin there. 

“Oberyn, wait.” You called out his name, raising the hand you’d been clutching onto Ellaria’s forearm with to stop him from removing Gannon’s fingers. His forehead creased in confusion, the woman beside you drawing a breath to protest your seemingly merciful request. But you only waited long enough for a spark of relief to flicker in Gannon’s eyes, your own burning with hate- for Gannon and men like him- and that flicker fizzled to nothing as he realized that you had no plans to grant him mercy. “It was the other hand that he struck me with.” 

Flashing a grin as quick as the blade he held, Oberyn switched Gannon’s hands so that it was his dominant one to take the punishment, and in a testament of just how sharp the Red Viper of Dorne kept his knives, removed the top portion of the man’s four fingers with almost no pressure needed, the detached parts rolling over the table, no longer a piece of the man’s body, now just bits of waste. Gannon let out a nearly inhuman howl of pain as he keeled over onto the floor in a bloody heap, clutching the gushing stumps above his knuckles that used to be fingers. Though you had never had a digit cut off and couldn’t begin to guess at how it would feel, the sounds coming from the man were twisted, inverted almost, turning into a shriek, his face contorted as though he was being consumed in flames you couldn’t see. Finally, writhing his way to his feet, Gannon scrambled from the room, his screams still audible even as he fled the brothel. 

You hadn’t even realized that you’d stepped away from Ellaria, not until you were reaching for the handle of the dagger that Oberyn had released once he’d finished carrying out the sentence he had passed on Gannon. But before you could close your fingers around the hilt, you felt and then saw Oberyn’s hands coming from behind you to cover yours, stopping you. Pressing your hands into your own stomach, he pulled you back gently but urgently into his chest, his lips immediately finding a home behind your ear where he kissed your name. “You’re safe.” His breath hit your skin in a wave as he slowly turned you in his arms to look you over. Satisfied that you hadn’t been more seriously injured than you were, he relaxed but only slightly. 

Sticking one hand out wordlessly behind himself, he waited for Ellaria to pass him the cloth she had been using to clean your cheek, his eyes glued to your face as he brought the cloth there, dabbing so feather light that you hardly felt a thing. You did feel the weight in his eyes as he looked at you though, and you could tell that what he and his paramour had walked in on had shaken him. Just as your lips parted, intending to whisper his name, his eyebrows came together, a crease forming between them to turn his expression even more grave and it silenced you. Cradling your face between his large palms, he kept you framed  between his bent forearms as he spoke. “You must never touch one of my blades unless I place it in your hand, do you understand?” 

Sucking in a breath, your eyes widened as they flicked back to the blade where it still sat atop the table. You had heard the rumors about the poisons that the Dornish Prince coated his weapons with, and as the sunlight filtered through the window, you saw it shining a dark sickly green color and everything fell into place. That was why he was in so much pain, that’s… he- You looked back at Oberyn then, your chest heaving as you wrapped your head around everything. “You… poisoned him?” 

“He deserved worse.” You watched his nostrils flare, something fiery roaring to life in his eyes. “For what he did to you, he deserves-” 

“Will he die?” You asked without flinching, without your voice wavering, giving him no reason to believe that you were off put by how he had handled Gannon. 

His upper lip curled slightly as he answered, his voice dropping lower. “Not right away.” You inhaled a breath through your nose. He will, then. You caught what he wasn’t saying, that the poison he had used was not only responsible for the increased pain sensitivity, but that it would also masquerade as infection soon enough, sickening the man well beyond the point of saving before he’d even shown signs of illness. 

“Good.” You narrowed your eyes to add emphasis, wanting him to know that you were entirely supportive of the fate he’d subjected Gannon to. He did it to himself. 

Oberyn tilted his head to one side as Ellaria stepped around to take the cloth back from him, the pair of them existing in such harmony with each other that they didn’t even need to communicate verbally. She laid her hand on his arm, moving closer to press her lips to his bicep, kissing him through his robe. Though she didn’t even make contact with his skin, the action was so intimate that their connection was almost tangible. They’re so… Despite the pain you were still in and the shock that still coursed through your veins, the pure beauty in the way that they loved one another wasn’t lost on you. Most people would never have even a fraction of what they gave each other, what they allowed one another to have, what they encouraged each other to experience. You knew that no matter how long you would be involved in their lives, even if you did end up going back to Dorne with them, there was nothing that you or anyone could do to come between Oberyn and Ellaria. It was gorgeous, the way that they respected and supported each other, and you knew that most people wouldn’t understand it, but that didn’t matter to you, or to them. 

Ellaria leaned over to tuck a piece of your hair out of your eyes, sweeping her fingertips over your swollen cheek. “This will fade, I promise.” She gave you a smile then that was softer than you had a feeling she liked to appear to anyone but Oberyn, then leaned in to speak into your ear. “Let him take care of you. He… he needs to know you’re alright.” Dropping a soft peck to your eyebrow, she pulled back and gave you a minute nod, and then she was heading for the door without another glance or word. 

Once it had clicked shut, Oberyn took both of your hands in his and led you slowly backwards to the bed, pausing when he felt his calves hit it to shift his grip to your waist. As he sat on the edge, he pulled you into his lap, and you let him fold you close to his body. But instead of staying there, he slid his arms beneath your legs and around your torso, moving both of you backwards towards the pillows until he had enough space to lay you down. Completely bare, the sash you’d been wearing torn in bloodied pieces on the floor, he let his eyes roam every bit of you, taking stock of the bruises and scrapes, the scratches and red marks that you’d received before he and Ellaria had come to your aid. Then, without warning, his eyes were on yours, and they were spilling over with need, but it wasn’t the same kind of need that you’d seen there before. 

He needs to know you’re alright. 

You heard the other woman’s words echo in your mind, and you knew that this was what she meant. Licking at your lips, you reached for his jaw, fingers grazing the deceptively soft hair that covered it, and you felt him lean into your touch, eyes closed for several beats. “I’m alright, Oberyn,” you kept your voice as even as you could, knowing that it would help convince him that while you were hurt, it could have been far worse. “I’m alright, because you and-” 

“I am sorry that I could not stop him sooner.” He hadn’t waited for you to finish speaking, nor had he opened his eyes, and the way that the muscles in his throat contracted as he swallowed told you that there was more to what he was feeling than you knew. 

“I...Its-” His eyes opened as you swept your thumb over his cheek. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Yes- I do.” He shook his head slightly and took your hand in both of his. Bringing it to his lips, he fit the knuckle of your middle finger between his lips, dragging it along the seam of them before kissing the very end of it. “I have my reasons,” he said, “for why I… why seeing this happening was-” he swore under his breath and swallowed again. “Something…monstrous happened to...to my sister.” You felt your heart break at the sadness in his usually vivacious tone, and you wanted to say something to comfort him, but you fought the urge, remembering what Ellaria had said. “I do not wish to talk about that with you tonight, not while you are…” He brought one hand to your abdomen, fingers finding a divot left there by the press of Gannon’s metallic sword hilt against your skin. “Not while you are in need of my care.” He carefully lowered himself to lay beside you, letting his touch travel over your body to caress each bruise, and then his lips were raking over the cut on your cheek, impossibly close but so gentle that even though the skin was raw and angry, it didn’t hurt at all. “I will tell you about her one day. I… I want you to know me, understand me. And you cannot do that without learning about her.” You wanted to know whatever he would tell you, even if hearing it would shatter your heart all over again. “But not tonight. Tonight…” he looked into your eyes then, that need still there. “Tonight, let me take care of you, my wild thing.” Though it wasn’t sexual, the burn in his desire to tend to you purely to help heal your wounds, you couldn’t help the way that your stomach flipped and your heart lurched, because that somehow made it mean even more. “I will not rest, he went on as you hummed at the sensation of the backs of his fingers trailing over the purplish marks on your arm, “until I have made my penance to every part of you that he touched.” 

You fell asleep that night to his fingers in your hair, his lips resting against the crown of your head as you lay against his chest, not a single mark left untended by the Prince.    

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THANK YOU FOR READING! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tag list please feel free  to let me know. And like I said up top: if you have any requests or ideas that you would like to see for these two, send an ask and I will see what I can do!

tags: @something-tofightfor @gollyderek @pheedraws @valkblue @alraedesigns @beefcakebarnes​ @persie33ik @fific7​ @g0ldenlush​ @insiespeckagain  @thisgirl-knm​ @writeforfandoms​ @paracosmenthusiast​

[brutal-nemesis]

E&T-Caring For Your Tiny Test Subject

Welp. (⓿ ◡ ⓿) I made more. Maybe real content will resume soon, but until then...tiny Erebus

←Previous - Masterlist

Ingredients: noncon partial stripping/nudity, noncon touching (unsexy)

“You know,” Neteri mused as she turned Erebus over in her hand, “you’re kind of filthy from your little adventure. Maybe I should-”

“No-”

“Yeah.” She tightened her grip as Erebus squirmed, looking down at him with a devilish grin. “Let’s get you cleaned up, lil guy.”

“I-I can do that myself Neteri you don’t need to-”

“I do need to because it will be so absolutely adorable.”

“That’s the dumbes-” Erebus’s protest was silenced as she placed one of her fingers over his mouth. He glared at her, debating biting her for a moment. She’d only have herself to blame if he drew blood...still, the last thing he needed was for his situation to get any worse. As per usual, Neteri was going to get what Neteri wanted and he’d just have to suffer through it. Even so, this...this was not going to be easy. Already, an awful feeling was stirring in his gut at imagining her…bathing him. He shuddered, trying to just put it out of his mind for now.

Once they got back to her office, Neteri plopped him back into the jar and screwed on the lid before taking him back to his cell. She set the jar on the desk and crouched down to his level. “I’m going to go get everything I need, and then I’ll be back, so you just chill until then, okay?” Erebus just quietly nodded from where he was seated with his arms wrapped around his folded legs. He tried to take deep breaths once he was alone, trying not to let himself get freaked out before it even started.

He would be fine. Neteri was always gentle with him as long as he was cooperative, so he wasn’t too worried about this experience hurting. He was far more worried about how much she was going to be touching him, about how exposed he was going to be, about how helpless he was going to feel. Not that he wasn’t already helpless right now, stuck inside a glass jar, but there was a whole new level of powerlessness in being held tightly in her hand. When he’d been his real size, he could always take comfort in his significant height advantage over her, the vague idea that he could easily overpower her if he tried. But now, she could do whatever she wanted with him with just her bare hands, and there was nothing he could do to fight back.

By the time she had returned with a relatively shallow bowl and a large cup, he had steeled himself for what was about to occur. Still, when she reached her hand in the jar, he pressed himself back against the glass, because he didn’t want this. “You’ll be alright little guy, the water’s nice and warm for you.”

“T-that’s not what I-hey! I can take that off mysel-”

“I’m sure you can,” Neteri said as she pulled his shirt off over his head, his struggles doing absolutely nothing to slow her down. “But this is more fun.”

“Not for me.”

“Who owns who here, Erebus? Now stop wiggling or I might take off more than your pants, and neither of us want that.” Erebus grumbled but stopped trying to resist, feeling his face flush at her bare hands against his skin. She poured some of the water from the cup into the dish before gently setting him down in it. He felt himself relax despite everything; the water did feel good and it’d been so long since he’d had a bath. Probably not since...since he’d lost everything. Maybe this would be alright…

Yeah, it felt sort of nice as she poured the warm water over his head with a thimble and started to wash his hair with two of her fingertips. He leaned into her touch just a bit-no no no wait this was Neteri she’d shrunk him and this was humiliating he wasn’t supposed to enjoy it, and even if he did, there was no way he’d let her catch on to it. He put on his best glare and hugged his knees close to his chest. Neteri laughed. “You always look so cute when you’re angry, but now that you're tiny it’s even cuter! You’re just perfect like this, huh?” She tilted his chin up, and he tried to turn away, but she forced him back. “Keep your head tilted back, I’m going to rinse your hair and I don’t want it to get in your eyes.”

“Fine.” She was always so unfairly tender with him, and part of him wished she would be rougher, that she would stop making it so hard to hate this. Even when she pried his arms away from his legs and forced him to uncurl so she could wash the rest of him, she was never anything but gentle. Fortunately (or maybe unfortunately? He wasn’t sure), the feeling of her fingers scrubbing his body ended up being more uncomfortable and invasive than nice, and it was easier for him to hate it. 

And he...he hated it, really hated it, so much so that he didn’t know how much more he could take, because he just wanted her hands off of him, not all over his bare skin, over all of his scars, at the same time. Erebus tried to squirm away, but there was firmness behind Neteri’s gentle grip, rendering his attempts futile. He was just as helpless as he had feared being, and he could hardly bear it. She was almost done, she had to be, she’d gotten just about everywhere and he wasn’t sure if his face could get any redder, if the awful feeling in his stomach could get any worse.

He fought back an audible sigh of relief as she started rinsing him off, glad that this experience was almost over. Once she was done, Neteri slid her thumb under his chin, tilting it up. “There, you’re all clean now.” She stared at him a moment more, stifling a laugh. “You’re all embarrassed it’s so adorable. I do wish I could keep you like this.”

“You’d better not-”

“No, no, I can’t, that would use up far too much of my magic power, shrinking you every day. And doing procedures on your tiny little body would be way more difficult and not worth it at all. But, a girl can dream,” she sighed. He rolled his eyes, relishing the fact that she’d have no idea that he did it. She released him, looking around on the desk. “I forgot to get a towel for ya; let me go grab one from your bathroom.” 

Erebus eyed the edge of the bowl as soon as she turned around. The sides weren’t that steep, and he could probably climb them, which would earn him a little moment of freedom, not stuck inside anything or held back by her giant hands. He stood and sloshed towards the edge, deciding it would be best to just try to crawl up the sloped sides. He stepped out of the soapy water, feeling confident enough in his first step that he immediately tried to take another, trusting all of his weight to his foot on the sloped side of the bowl.

A mistake he soon paid for. 

Still coated in soapy residue, his foot slipped on the smooth surface of the bowl, and his forehead immediately slammed into the ceramic. He managed to catch himself before his face slid into the water, and he just stayed on his hands and knees for a moment, staring at his reflection in the water as his head throbbed. Of course he couldn’t even escape from a bowl. Of course. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes, but he quickly wiped them away as Neteri returned.

“What was that sound, Erebus? You okay?” she asked as she picked him up, examining him.

“It was nothing. I’m fine.” He crossed his arms, hoping she’d just drop it.

But this was Neteri, who rarely dropped it, and seemed to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing. “I dunno bud, you have a lil red spot on your forehead. Did you-” a mischievous grin spread across her face, “did you try to climb out and hit your head?”

“I-so what if I did? It doesn’t matter.” He looked away as she laughed, his face once again burning an unfair amount.

“It does matter ‘cause that is the cutest thing, oh you poor little dear.” She ruffled his hair with one of her fingertips before picking up the cup of clean water. “Alright, close your eyes while I rinse you off one last time.” When she was done, she set him down on the towel she had brought over and got to work drying him off. He let her, just wanting this whole thing to be over with. The towel felt so much rougher now that he was small...that was another thing he missed about home, how soft the towels always were. His sheets and pillows had always been so comfortable, too...he missed his father and everyone, of course, but sometimes he couldn’t help but think about all of the little things. 

Once he was dry, Neteri dropped him back in the jar before throwing a set of small, clean clothes on top of him. “Here, I shrunk those for you, and I think I was able to do it so they’ll get big when you do like your other clothes shrunk with you the first time. Just let me know when you’re done.” She held out her hands to cover the side of the jar facing her, eyes squeezed shut for good measure. 

“You’re good, Neteri,” Erebus called once he’d gotten changed. “Are you going to leave me alone now?”

“Absolutely I will not.” She picked up the jar, holding him at her eye level. “You are at your most cutest ever in the world and I want to be here for every second of it.” Her stomach growled. “Also I have just realized that I forgot about food and neither of us have eaten since this morning and it is definitely past lunchtime so I am going to go get us some food.” She grinned as she set the jar down. “I can give you tiny food oh I’m so excited!” She dashed out the door, calling “I’ll be right back!”

Erebus couldn’t say he wasn’t happy to get something to eat, but he could do without the way Neteri watched him the entire time, occasionally gasping at stupid things like him ripping off part of the chunk of bread she’d given him. She’d shrunk most of his food, so he ate it like normal, but for some reason she tore off a piece of her normal sized flatbread and gave it to him, and there was no way he was just going to bite into something so big. He’d lost a lot of his dignity over these past few months, but he still wasn’t a savage. Besides, she was making him drink out of a thimble, which was demeaning enough. 

She put him back in the jar while she took care of their plates and cleaned up from bathing him. He laid on his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what stupid thing she had planned next. It would be foolish to assume she wasn’t going to spend the rest of the day bothering him and teasing him and holding him in her hands, since she’d made it very clear how much she was enjoying this. Nothing would be worse than the bath, though. He hoped. 

Once she returned, Neteri picked him up from inside the jar and just stared at him intently. Erebus narrowed his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m just trying to decide what to do with you next.”

“You could put me down.”

“Or I could hold you in my hand forever.”

“No.”

“I think I will do that.” She sat down on his bed and laid back, pressing Erebus against her chest, her hand on his back pinning him down on his stomach. His wiggling was, as always, completely useless. He sighed, trying to make himself comfortable and pretending he was just lying on a bed or something. Neteri rubbed her thumb soothingly up and down his back, and soon enough he...found himself...getting tired...

~~~

Neteri resisted the urge to jump up in delight as she watched little Erebus fall asleep on her chest. She’d just wanted to lay down and hold his tiny body for a few minutes, but she’d expected him to struggle longer or glare at her the whole time, not take a nap. Not that it was unwelcome, not at all, he was so precious like this, and there was no way she’d move until he woke up. She continued stroking his back, smiling down at her little test subject. 

She was going to enjoy every moment she had left while he was small.

Tags: @as-a-matter-of-whump @yet-another-heathen @galaxywhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @whumpasaurus101 

[asweetprologue]

so hard to say (so easy to do)

This is a follow-up to this fic I did for my halftober series, but can be read as a standalone! This is a whump fic, but all torture mentioned is fairly mild and there is a happy ending. A few people wanted a sequel so I’m finally able to oblige!  ao3

tw: hand trauma including broken fingers and mention of cutting near and around the forearms. 

***

He can’t remember how long he’s been here. 

Days? A week, maybe? It could have been months, and Jaskier’s not entirely sure he would notice the difference. Time began blending together so quickly after the first few sessions. The cell they are keeping him in is makeshift, once some kind of storage room in the dilapidated keep that the Nilfgaardians have occupied. It’s temporary, and so is his capture. One way or another. He will be disposed of the second they no longer find him useful. 

It’s a bit of a cat and mouse game. If he weren’t so thoroughly bruised, deep down in his core, he might be a little proud of how he’s led them along. They come every day, a few times, he’s not sure; there are no windows in his hasty prison. They never remove him from the chair he’s strapped to, and he’s been given only water, twice. He’s beyond hunger, his empty stomach just another point of pain alongside his other injuries. There are two men who work on him, one in what he assumes is the morning and one in the evening. They come in shifts. During the first few days - hours? weeks? - they would leave after he passed out, and he would be allowed to rest for a little while. Now they usually stay for a while, teasing him in and out of consciousness with wicked little hooks and blades. He faints too often for it to bring him any lasting peace. 

It’s a difficult thing to want to draw out, but draw it out he does. They ask him where the witcher has gone, and he tells them he won’t say, won’t give up his secrets (as if he has any). When they move to breaking his fingers, he tells them that he knows a few places, some towns that Geralt might be hiding out in, which he knows are safe to speak of. He tells them about witcher caches that he knows are long looted, old ruins where experiments past took place, unspoken but harmless truths. 

He never tells them the biggest truth: he has no idea where Geralt is. That way lies death, he’s certain. 

When he’s not entertaining Nilfgaard’s finest, he focuses on making plans of escape. None of them are particularly grand, or seem likely to work. Jaskier has gotten himself out of plenty of trouble in years past, but there’s not much one man can do against a full legion of soldiers. If he could get out of his bindings, he might be able to make it through the halls of the keep and sneak past the guards, but it’s a big if. It was a stronger contender in the early hours of his captivity, but now he doubts if he could even stand up for long. Weariness and pain have made his bones brittle, liable to crack at the slightest provocation. He fears if he tried to run he would do more damage than the Nilfgaards already have. 

He’s not sure if he’s thinking clearly. 

He doesn’t think about Geralt at all. He tries not to think about Geralt. 

He dreams of him, though. When he faints from the pain or exhaustion or thirst, he doesn’t dream, but a few times he’s managed to fall into a fitful sleep. In the dark of the cell he dreams of calloused hands and smiling, golden eyes. The worst is when he dreams that he’s woken up by Geralt’s side in their small camp, warm and content, only to wake again to the cold, damp dungeon. The smell of it chokes him, iron and piss and mold, and he gags on bile when he has nothing in his stomach to throw up. He sits in the dark, alone, his broken fingers throbbing along with his pulse as it rushes through his ears, every cut and bruise aching in the chill air. For a long while he just breathes, wishing so desperately to be held that he feels like nothing more than a child. 

They come for him again the next morning. Or night, he doesn’t know, can’t tell. The torch burns his eyes, and he closes them tightly to avoid one pain he doesn't have to endure. It’s better if he doesn’t look, anyways. 

In his brief glimpse of his tormentor, Jaskier could tell that the torturer this time is the thin man. His counterpart is huge, with shockingly broad shoulders and big, meaty, uncoordinated hands. Most of the bruises are from the big one, who prefers to slam his fist into Jaskier’s ribs when he doesn’t hear what he wants to. In his brief and endless time here, Jaskier has learned that he prefers the meat man. The thin man who stands before him now is a surgeon, precise and accurate in all his movements. His fingers are long and thin, and they reach so easily inside to pluck at Jaskier’s delicate veins and nerves. In a strange way, Jaskier can almost appreciate it, one artist to another. The human body is an instrument to the thin man, and the music he makes is pain. 

He can hear the sound of a cloth, rubbing across a smooth surface. It reminds him of Geralt, wiping down his blades with old silk, who he will not think of in this moment. Jaskier squeezes his eyes shut even tighter, trying to will his mind into stillness. He’s not any good at this, not really. He can talk around the issue, sure, draw it out as much as he likes, keep them guessing. Jaskier would never let a single unintentional detail slip, this he knows in the depths of his being, past the music and charm and frivolousness. Nothing could make him betray Geralt and Ciri. He could run the Nilfgaardians round in circles for years if he wanted to. 

But he isn’t good with pain. 

This time the first knife to pierce his skin isn’t even preceded by a question. It comes with little fanfare, slicing into the pad of one of his twisted fingers in what Jaskier knows is a painfully intentional line. Exactly as big and deep as it needs to be to hurt him how the thin man wants it to. It burns against the swollen skin, already too sensitive. Jaskier lets out a slow breath, trying to brace himself for the rest. 

“I will no longer ask,” the thin man says. His voice is soft, with the almost musical lit of someone from near Toussaint. He always sounds breathy, like he’s been walking too quickly up a flight of stairs. “You know the question.”

Jaskier nods jerkily. He won’t speak for a while. He needs to draw it out, perhaps find a way to barter for some water or food. Information in exchange for things that might make his existence more bearable. Who knows how long it will be before - 

No. Don’t think it. 

The thin man hums and begins his work. 

Jaskier fades, coming back to himself only when the pain becomes the worst. He passes out a few times, but he finds no reprieve. The thin man waits for him when he wakes, and begins again. Jaskier doesn’t even know what he’s doing anymore. All he knows is that his skin has been replaced with fire. 

They haven’t even started working on his face yet, but the thin man had made some chilling comments about his eyes. Jaskier hopes they have time yet before that. 

He’s gritting his teeth through a particularly deep incision on the inside of his forearm - just shallow enough not to be dangerous, but wide enough to sting - when the door to the room shatters inwards. 

The chair that he’s in was bolted to the floor, which he expects is the only reason he doesn’t go flying backwards. As it is, his head rocks back from the blast and knocks into the wood, and he’s too dizzy from blood loss and dehydration and maybe a slight concussion to register what happens next. There’s some shouting, and a spray of something warm and salty across his face. A brilliant light, and then darkness. 

He keeps his eyes closed until he feels hands on his cheeks. When he opens them, he is met with gold, gold, gold. 

Geralt is here. 

“Melitele, that took you long enough,” he says, and then he passes out. 

***

When he wakes, there’s no pain. 

He sits up and winces, amending that thought. There is, most definitely, some pain. It crackles along his ribs and his joints, aching, but it’s dulled. He’s lying in a small room, warm wooden logs forming the wall next to his small cot. A fire crackles merrily away on the far side of the little cottage, basic cooking implements hanging above it. A table sits underneath a window to his left, where he can just barely make out a thin line of blue sky above a dense treeline. His bed is covered in rough, simple cotton sheets; the room is warm enough that it needs no quilt. When he lifts them warily to assess the damage, his torso is wrapped in fine linens, the kind Geralt likes to keep in their packs for when jobs go south. Three of his fingers are heavily wrapped as well, bound together to keep them stiff and straight. He fumbles as he picks up the still mug of water he finds on the little shelf beside the cot, and he drinks so quickly he nearly drops it on the floor. 

He’s so focused on the critical task of getting water from the mug into his mouth without spilling it all on the sheets that he almost doesn’t notice the front door opening. When he does, he jumps - can’t help it, suddenly filled with a bright spot of panic. It fades into sheer relief when he sees the slight silhouette and the faint, nearly white hair backlit by the late afternoon sun. Ciri stares at him, holding a wide, flat bowl against her hip while propping the door open with one hand. Suddenly the bowl goes clattering to the floor, dandelion greens falling in a floral carpet as she launches herself across the room at him.

“We were so fucking worried about you!” she says, throwing her arms around his shoulders. Jaskier laughs, the sound of it coming out rough but no less joyful for it. He lifts his sore arms to hug her back, ignoring the way it pulls at his healing injuries. 

“Now what would your father say if he heard you using such language?” he asks. One hand lifts up to card gently through her hair. Ciri pulls back a bit, and he tucks a stray piece of it behind her ear as she glares at him. Her green eyes are covered in a film of tears, but he won’t mention it. His eyes are burning a bit as well. 

“You know I only learned it from him,” she says, “and you. I’m angry with you. And him. You made us leave you behind.” She’s so young, he thinks, even with everything she’s been through. It makes something in his chest compress and expand at once. It’s a strange feeling, but not a bad one. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says, and he means it, mostly. “I didn’t want to. But I would do it again, to protect you. Both of you.”

A stray tear slips down her cheek. “You were so hurt,” she croaks. She takes a few breaths through her nose, biting the inside of her lip. “When they brought you back, Geralt was so quiet. Not like normal quiet, but like, like people get when they don’t want to talk about how bad it is. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.” She looks bereaved, guilt twisting her young features, and Jaskier can’t stand it. 

“No,” he says, firmly, as much authority in his voice as he can muster with it still raw from hours of screaming. “It was my choice, Ciri. The fact that people want to hurt you doesn’t make it your fault. I will always choose to protect you. Always.” He reaches out his free hand to take hers, squeezing it tightly. “You would do the same for me, Lioness.”

She nods shakily, and squeezes his hand back. He knows this isn’t the last time he’ll have to say it, but that’s alright. He’ll say it again. 

Ciri wipes her eyes quickly and pulls away. “I need to get Geralt. He’s been… not good. He needs to know you’re awake.” She stands up, rushing over to the door and righting her upended bowl, saving what she can of the greens. Jaskier takes a moment to arrange himself on the bed a bit, shuffling around until he’s more comfortable.

“Not good how?” he asks. Ciri shoots him a look. 

“Not good as in worried, of course. We all have. Even Yennefer. She stayed with you the entire first day you were back. It’s been -”

The door slams open again, this time revealing a panting Geralt. His hair is down around his face, looking slightly damp. He has on only a loose gray shirt over an old pair of trousers, the ones with a rip in the knee that Jaskier had told him to throw out but he’d insisted were good for at least one more season. Jaskier had been meaning to patch it up for a few weeks now. He’s so fucking beautiful Jaskier could cry.

“I was fishing,” Geralt says. He’s staring at Jaskier with wide eyes, one hand still on the door handle. 

Ciri says, “Um. I’m going to find Yennefer,” and slips out the door under Geralt’s arm. Geralt doesn’t even seem to see her. 

The door falls shut behind her, but Geralt seems rooted in place, staring at Jaskier with an expression that’s wide open and raw. It lands on Jaskier’s skin like a balm, tracing over every visible wound with desperate attention. 

“Well,” Jaskier says finally, “I’m not going to bite you.”

Geralt makes a hurt noise, and suddenly he’s across the room, crowding into Jaskier’s space. He hovers beside the bed, curved over Jaskier’s propped up form with his hands inches away from bandaged shoulders. He hesitates. Jaskier can’t stand it. 

“I didn’t get tortured for however long for you not to hug me once I’m rescued,” he snaps. “I’m not going to break.”

Geralt laughs, but it’s so strangled Jaskier isn’t actually sure it isn’t a sob, and then Geralt finally leans into him. His fingers come up to cradle Jaskier’s skull, holding onto the back of his neck like he really might fragment apart at too harsh a touch. His other arm circles around Jaskier’s chest until he can feel a warm palm spread along the base of his spine, anchoring him. Jaskier sighs, feeling the last of the tension leave him as he collapses against Geralt’s sturdy form. One wet strand of white hair tickles his cheek where he’s pressed against Geralt’s neck. 

“Four days,” Geralt says, so soft Jaskier might not have heard it if he didn’t half feel it through the rumble of Geralt’s ribcage. 

“Four days?” Jaskier repeats, turning it into a question. 

“How long they had you.” A hot breath leaves him in a long sigh, tickling Jaskier’s eartip. “Didn’t know if we’d find you in time.”

“I should have let Yennefer put that tracking spell on me all those years ago,” Jaskier says, aiming for light. Geralt just squeezes him a bit tighter, enough that it stings a little, before he eases off a bit. He doesn't let go. 

“She’ll do one as soon as she’s able,” Geralt says. “Used a lot of energy, healing you.”

“Exceptional job she did,” Jaskier says, soothing his nose along the line of Geralt’s throat. “My, ah. Well. Does she know if my - Any prognosis on, ah -”

“Your fingers will be fine,” Geralt says, bringing the hand on Jaskier’s neck down to cradle his bandaged fingers. “Yennefer said they’re mostly healed already, but she’s keeping them wrapped so you don’t aggravate them.”

Jaskier sighs in relief. “Well thank small mercies and powerful mages for that. How long am I bedridden for? I’m taking two days at least off of whatever orders Yennefer has given, knowing her she’s added an extra week just to keep me ‘out of trouble’ as she would describe it. I’ll not sit around a moment more than -”

“Jaskier,” Geralt interrupts. He pulls back, looking serious, almost grave. But his eyes are full of something else, something that makes Jaskier’s words catch and halt in his throat. 

“Yes, dear heart?” he prompts. Geralt closes his eyes. 

“I love you,” he says, soft and breathless. He opens his eyes suddenly, pupils blown wide as he meets Jaskier’s gaze. An expression that Jaskier has seen so, so many times steals across his features - scared, but determined. His witcher is a very brave man. “I’m in love with you. I didn’t know if I’d get to - if you would be -”

Jaskier reaches up to catch Geralt’s cheek in his wrapped palm, and Geralt’s eyelids flutter like he wants to close them, but he doesn’t. He stays looking at Jaskier, drinking him in as Jaskier is doing in return. His eyes are two spots of honey in the warm light of the fire and the afternoon sun spilling into the room. Jaskier leans forward and presses their lips together. His are too dry, and Geralt’s are a bit chapped. He bites them when he’s nervous, or worried. It’s also the most brilliant kiss Jaskier’s ever had - it feels like the relief of coming to a familiar place after a long time on the road, where you know the people and the food is good and everyone knows your songs. It’s cheerful fires in silver blue campsites, blankets shared on cold nights on the journey north, buttercups and dandelions braided into snow white hair. It’s coming home, the only way Jaskier has ever really known how. 

He pulls away, letting their foreheads fall together, just breathing in the space between them. Geralt smells like Roach, and fresh spring water, and lilac. “I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

Geralt smiles at him, really smiles, beautiful and relieved. Ciri’s voice comes to them through the window, excited and drawing nearer, interwoven with a smoother tone that Jaskier remembers from hazy half wakeful moments. Yennefer will want to check on his wounds, will lecture them on getting distracted and ruining her hard work, but she will also smile and it will touch her eyes like it didn’t used to. But for the next few seconds, it’s just the two of them, and once again the moment feels unhurried and infinite. So he leans back in to kiss him again and steals Geralt’s quiet huff of a laugh to keep within his own mouth, and for a moment that’s everything there is. 

[nuttytani]

Just like a movie

fandom: ikevamp

pairing: vlad x gn!reader 

words: 2000+

warnings: mentions of food and that's pretty much it

a/n- this was my secret santa gift for my dear friend: @jiyuu-chan ! + if you enjoyed it; feedback is highly appreciated!

People say that you are meant to meet a special someone in your life. Someone who would change everything, who would complete you like a piece of a puzzle- someone you are destined to be with from the moment you are born, a string of fate tying you closer.

Soulmates have a special bond with each other; a red string that is attached to their pinky- which can only be seen by them. Such is drilled into every child’s brain from a young age.

When you were younger, your father would always tell you stories of how he had met his soulmate, his wife...your mother. It was otherworldly he said, like nothing else- an indescribable moment, and he wanted you to just know when you had met yours.  

“One day, you’ll also meet your one and only, sweetheart!”

“Really? But…. how will I know?”

“Really! It’s simple. You’ll see a red-,” your dad said- looking a little too excited.

“DARLING- STOP! DIDN’T WE DISCUSS THIS!?? Don’t annoy the poor child…,” your mother screeched from the kitchen as she stormed to your place- giving her husband a sharp look before turning to look at you,  “sweety- you’ll know when that day comes, alright? Why don’t you go play, hmm?”

You only nodded meekly, and rushed upstairs- glad to have your dad stop talking. Your parents’ banter was now muffled, but your mind was clouded with thoughts of what your father was about to say. Perhaps your mother was right...it’s better not to know to keep the moment special.

As you grew up, from kindergarten, primary school to highschool and finally college; you stood by and watched most of your friends find their other half- until you were the only one left. You’d always feel a dull pang in your heart...what if you were destined to be alone for life? When were you going to meet your soulmate? Will people keep on taunting you? These thoughts would lurk in your head, until you couldn’t think anymore. But now you were older and more carefree than before, such thoughts didn’t bother you any longer- at least not completely.

Every once in a while, your family and friends would dreamily tell you about their experience, while you’d just listen and nod. An exhausting cycle, where all your concerns would come rushing back to you. Then, of course, they’d never forget to ask about your nonexistent love life... It wasn’t fun to watch them shoot you a sympathetic smile and say “don’t worry, your time will come soon!”

Truly, having a soulmate or not didn’t matter to you, at least that’s what you think. It wasn’t uncommon for few people to be ‘alone’ although that was quite rare and an unfortunate occurrence. Why was it so hard for people to leave you alone? Real life isn't a romantic movie, like everyone would depict it as.

“There we go! I think that’s it now,” the strawberry brunette sighed as he placed the vase of wildflowers on the coffee table. 

“Finally! I’m so tired,” you groaned, slipping to the floor as your back pushed against the couch.

Fumbling with the book in your hands, you motioned the man to sit beside you- not too long after, he too sat lamely next to you on the cold hardwood. Exactly five hours passed since you and your friend Charles began organizing your new house. The two of you were working nonstop- tirelessly to get the place looking more liveable and comfortable. It was a struggle, but the effort was worth it.

“You know...you owe me for this big time,” Charles announced cheekily.

“Spill it. What do you want Charlot?” Brows shot up your forehead, you knew that smile all too well.

“First of all...stop calling me ‘Charlot’ it’s weird! Only Faust calls me that. And to answer your question- I would like to eat your pancakes.” He flashed you a toothy grin.

“Sure whatever you say Charlot,” you snickered, “with coffee?”

“Uh-huh!”

With a roll of your eyes, you stood up and threw the book on the couch before heading to the kitchen. Straight away- you pulled out the mixing bowl and sieved the dry ingredients, while humming to a tune that was stuck in your head.

About a week had passed since you moved into your new house, it was a decent place and safe neighbourhood. But the best part about it was the fact that your house was a five minute walk from town. That meant no more lazy drives to the market, quite the bonus actually.

Remembering a task- you shouted to Charles, “Can you be a sweetheart and do me a favour?”

“Ask away child, your wish is my command,” he said with a flourish of his hands.

“Haha very funny- go get the mail”

“No no no- you’re forgetting something. What’s the magic word~” he sang in a high pitch.

“...Monsieur Charlie, can you please get the mail,” you huffed in annoyance.

Sounds of pancake sizzling and boiling of the kettle filled the kitchen, you were too busy flipping the pancake to notice Charles' presence back in the living room. His eyes were squinting hard at the brown box and some mail sitting snugly between his arms. He looked back and forth between the parcel and your back before he cleared his throat, capturing your attention.

“Hey uhh...is your home address 216b?”

“No. It’s 215b- why do you ask?”

“Are you sure? Because your mail says-”

Before the man could complete his sentence; you snatched the package from him- your eyes widening momentarily.

“I suppose the addresses got mixed up…” Charles muttered

“Yea looks like it…”

The two of you just stared at the package, not knowing what to do. Your first thought was to drop it off at the right address. The house was just in front of yours, it shouldn’t be a problem and maybe you could introduce yourself to your neighbour at the same time.

A smoky scent filled the living, interrupting your train of thoughts; your nose scrunching up in disgust- “What’s that smell?”

The two of you stared at each other quizzically before exclaiming at the same time “THE PANCAKES!!”

[Unfortunately, it took a great deal of time trying to scrape the burnt pancake off your pan and clean it. The unknown package was the last thing on your mind.]

“Thanks for the help Charles, I appreciate it.” You smiled at him.

“No problem, after all, I got to eat a good meal in turn,” he gave you a wink before bidding his byes.

The sky lost its pale blue colour and was now transformed into soft red and violet, all blending in to create a beautiful gradient with specks of white clouds adorning like freckles. A mop of unfamiliar silvery hair passed by your peripheral as you stared up the sky, taking a shy glance towards the man.

You stared at his back discreetly as he fumbled with the keys before opening the entrance to his house. 

‘216b’ the golden letters glistened. 

Huh. So that’s your neighbour! Maybe now’s the time you give him back the parcel, and that’s what you did.

You knocked thrice on the emerald green door, while balancing the huge brown box on your other arm- waiting patiently while you internally panicked. Your hands started to sweat and the box started to slip. Rushed footsteps echoed from the other side before halting suddenly, the green door opened with a start; giving you a little shock.

Once again, you were met with the silvery haired man; his garnet red eyes flickered to yours and at that moment- you felt as if everything froze around you. Your heart started to beat way too fast, and your breathing became shallow- it felt as if you were underwater. A tingling sensation ran up your left hand, your eyes flashed down to see whatever the problem was- only to be met with a scarlet thread wrapped around your pinky. You looked at the man in clear surprise and he too- looked very taken aback as he followed your eyes.

The silence stretched far too long for your liking, with a clear of your throat- you introduced yourself to the perplexed man and spoke

“...I’m the new neighbour”

“Bonjour, how can I help you?” He stared at you with wide eyes.

“So err- the package— I mean...I-I believe this is your mail?” You motioned to the box in your arms, “Looks like the mailman mixed up our home addresses.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Ahh! Why yes- actually I have yours as well- the mail I mean,” his eyes softened in understanding, “Please! Come inside.” He invited you in as he took the parcel from your hands.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude.” You shook your head meekly, still recovering from your speeding heartbeat.

“Not at all! Come in, please,” he insisted with shining eyes.

The house was similar to yours, the same white walls with wooden floors and fixtures- it had a relaxing ambience. You spotted several plants and flowers decorating the house, giving the place a much more peaceful vibe, you were too busy admiring the place to notice your neighbour returning.

He placed two plates of strawberries and tea on the coffee table which caught your attention.

“You have a lovely home uhh…”

“Vlad. I’m Vlad- my apologies, I completely forgot to introduce myself. How rude of me,” Vlad said with a slight smile.

When you turned up his doorsteps, you had no idea of what was to come- you definitely didn’t expect to finally meet your soulmate after all these years and in such a way. Now you understood what people meant by ‘feeling butterflies’

“No, it’s quite alright,” you chuckled while calming your jittery hands.

Vlad took a seat on the couch and pat the place next to him for you to sit. He elegantly picked the teacup and blew softly on it.

“So, how long have you been here?” he asked.

“Not too long actually, been just a week. I’ve finally finished organizing today,” you said while taking a bite into the deep red strawberry- the sweet juiciness making you sigh in delight.

“These strawberries are particularly my favourite- in fact, these were in the parcel you brought,” Vlad said with a deep laugh.

You gave an awkward ‘oh’ as you took a sip from your cup.

Not too long after, the awkwardness disappeared as you two got lost in conversation after conversation and more endless conversation, and a few giggles in between. It was quite easy to trust Vlad- he had a calming and serene aura and had you feeling comfortable in no time, perhaps too comfortable that you didn’t realize how late it was until you glanced at your wristwatch.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry- I lost track of time…”

Vlad gave a hum of acknowledgement as he eyed the wall clock, “It’s not that late.” He looked at you with twinkling eyes, ”Why don’t you stay for dinner? I’d like some company.”

“Hmm I don't know… I’ve overstayed my welcome,” You said with furrowed brows.

“Well I for sure know you haven’t —as I’ve said—I enjoyed your company.”

“Ahh fine! You’re good at tempting people you know?” With a grin, you folded your arms which earned a hearty chuckle from Vlad.

Dinner went smoothly as you two chattered on and on. The two of you stalled your return home but stayed in each other’s presence by washing dishes, eating dessert, extra dessert, and washing dishes yet again until there was nothing left to do.

Once again, you stood at Vlad’s doorstep with a meek smile.

“I had fun, thanks for having me”

“Me too- and it’s not often to find that your neighbour is your soulmate,” Vlad gave you an impish smile.

“Yea— it was, just like—”

“Just like a movie?”

“You stole my words, monsieur.”

“Perhaps this is our movie,” he said while tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

*

*

a/n: if you enjoyed reading this, please don't forget to leave a like and/or reblog. feed back is always appreciated. + join my taglist here

[sigillaria-svt]

Ferris Wheel

Pairing: Pianist!Wen Junhui x CollegeStudent!Reader

Word Count: 3,455

Genre: fluff, childhood friends, secret feelings, childhoodfriend!Joshua

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You sit in awe as you watch Jun, your childhood friend, perform in his first-ever solo piano concert. You've watched him grow up learning the piano day in and day out. It's always been his dream and you were happy to see him achieve it.

He was able to secure tickets to the front row seat just for you, and you were happy to see him perform up close. When he finishes all his pieces, he gets up from his seat and takes a bow. Jun smiles back at you before turning around to leave the stage.

After the show, you visit him backstage, bringing him a congratulatory bouquet for his successful concert. "You were great as always, but I'm really glad you managed to get me some front row tickets."

"I picked a good seat, didn’t I?” He says playfully.

Knowing you, of course, you wouldn't miss the chance to show the good side of your face." You hand him the bouquet. “Thank you for giving me a free pass, and at the front row, at that!”

"It's nothing," he says, looking away and playing with his bow tie. "I should be the one thanking you. Your support means a lot to me."

"Ehhhh, why are you being so shy? You should be proud of yourself!”

"I just...I've never performed for an audience like this before," he says. "I'm a little nervous."

You give a short laugh at his statement, but he doesn't seem amused. "Oh come on. You did well, incredibly well for your first concert. The crowd loved it as well. "

"I suppose..."

"Well, you're the one who always wanted to play the piano. How can you not be proud of such a great accomplishment?" you say.

There's a brief silence.

"Thanks..."

Before you can question him any further, he suddenly pulls you into a hug. You return the hug for a while before you both let go.

"Well, I should be off." He says, giving you a small nod.

"Hey, wait! Do you want to grab some food? It's on me. Think of it as a congratulatory gift."

"I can't, I have to practice in a few hours," he says sadly.

"Well, we still have a few hours, we won't eat for long. I insist."

He smiles once more and nods. "Yeah, sounds good."

The both of you make your way to the nearby Chinese restaurant, the one you two always ate at when you were in high school. You lead him to an empty table and begin to order your favorite meals. Soon enough, the two of you are eating your favorite foods and talking about anything that comes to mind.

"How's college?" Jun asks while taking a bite of his food.

"Oh, it's okay," you say. "A little difficult to adjust to, but I'm doing good. I miss hanging out with you. It was way easier when we had so much free time when we were in high school. "

"I missed that too," he says, "But things are certainly way easier now."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, I'm a full-fledged pianist now, instead of just a struggling one. Also, the girl I was dating broke up with me."

"What?!” You almost slam your hand on the table. You quickly lower your voice. “Wasn't she heads over heels for you? What happened?"

"Eh, she just tired of waiting. You know how she is."

You nod slowly, but something about the story doesn't feel right. "Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for me to become a success, of course. She said she couldn't wait around forever for me to achieve my goals."

"That's weird..."

"What?"

You purse your lips. "I mean, you've always been famous around the school for being a good pianist, but it's not like you're going to earn money overnight."

"It was for the best anyway. It showed that she was really just after the fame and not... Me." He says sadly, running his spoon through his bowl of soup.

With a burst of energy and anger, you puff your chest. "Hey, don't get yourself down! What are you, huh? You're funny, friendly, a good pianist, handsome, and a pretty good guy! She doesn't know what she lost. Hey, if she ever comes back, don't say yes, alright?!"

"Hah, yeah. Don't worry, I'll hold out for the real thing."

"Yeah, you always do."

You laugh it off, but to be honest, you were a bit disappointed. You held feelings for Jun when you were younger, but let go of him when he found a girlfriend. Now that she broke up with him for a shallow reason, you were so mad. You knew how good of a guy Jun was, and how much he treasured the people that are close to him.

You wouldn't be able to forgive such an insult. Surely he would see that.

"I have to go, my piano teacher is calling," Jun says.

"Alright, take care on your way there."

"I will. Later."

The both of you give a little wave to each other. Jun then leaves you to your own thoughts, while you ponder why you had such a strange feeling about this.

You pay up at the counter before heading back to your dorm.

When you get into the building, you see Joshua hanging out in the dorm lobby. Along with Jun, he was one of your classmates in high school and ended up forming a close friendship as a trio. Joshua ended up going to the same university as you studying psychology, while Jun ended up in a different music university.

"Hey, Josh!"

He looks up at you with a smile, waving his phone at you. "Hey, how was the concert? It's sad that I couldn't go because of exams."

"It was good. I think Jun was really happy to hear that your results came out well." You quickly take a seat next to him, putting your bag on the table. "And you know what? He just broke up with his girlfriend. I didn't see that coming. "

"Really? What for?"

"Shallow reasons. It makes me upset."

"Hmmm." Joshua says, nodding and looking away. "What do you plan on doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, if he's broken up with his girlfriend, do you think you could possibly...?"

"What? No! Josh, I..." You unintentionally stutter at the thought. Although Jun was clueless, Joshua knew everything. When you first found out about Jun getting a girlfriend, you cried at his house for hours. You didn’t want to admit it, but you knew you still had a bit of lingering feelings for Jun. "I mean, you know already, right? I let go of him years ago. I thought he'd be better off with you know... Someone better. "

"Someone better? That sounds very final!"

"I'm just saying, that it would be a better path for him."

"Let's hang out with him over the weekend. It wouldn't do good for him to keep thinking about it while he traps himself in practice." Joshua says, flipping through his phone to look for Jun’s contact number.

"Trapping himself in practice? You really think so?"

"Yeah, I do. Just trust me on this one." Joshua says with a sigh.

Well, it's one way to look at it you suppose.

"Let's take him to an amusement park. It's about time we bring out his inner child again."

"An amusement park? I've wanted to go to an amusement park for so long! Alright, let's go!"

You trust Joshua to invite Jun to the amusement park. Although you weren't a fan of the fast rides, you knew that it would make Jun and Joshua happy. The next day, both of you get on a bus from the university to the nearby theme park. The both of you get down just in time for the park to open.

"So, have you been to this amusement park before?" you ask.

"I've been here multiple times, but this is Jun's first time." He says. Joshua looks around, looking for the familiar tall figure. "There he is."

You wave to Jun as he walks towards the two of you, a big smile across his face.

"Hey Jun, I'm glad you managed to get yourself some free time," Joshua says.

"Yeah, I could use a breather," Jun replies.

"Man, these rides really take it out of you, don't they?"

"That's why they're fun." Joshua replies as the three of you may your way to the line to buy entrance tickets. Although the two men are ecstatic, you feel a churning feeling in your core. You’ve never been a fan of heights, and of the three, you were the one that easily got seasick. You knew that this was going to be a long day, but you wanted to make it a good one to cheer up Jun.

Jun looks over at you, who seems to be looking pale at the sight of all the tall rollercoasters. "Are you going to be fine?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine." You say. "Just... Never ridden a rollercoaster before. Not exactly the most confidence-inspiring rides. Besides, there's a first time for everything, right?"

"Yeah, there is." Jun replies, giving you a smile.

Your stomach starts doing flips as you remember that you need to get on that ride eventually. Eventually, the three of you get tickets for unlimited rides and head over to the first ride. The three of you get onto the roller coaster, which is about to begin boarding.

"Hold on to your butts!" the attendant jokes, and the two of them have a good laugh. You, on the other hand, simply smile awkwardly.

To be honest, you feel like you're taking the rollercoaster ride to your death.

The ride starts, and you scream the whole time. The roller coaster takes a wild turn through the inversion and while you're going at a pretty decent speed, you don't feel quite right. Over to your right, you see Jun and his large gummy smile.

"This is so fun! I wish I can do this all day!" he screams.

The rollercoaster takes a bunch of twists and turns, throwing you around left and right. You hold on to the restraints for dear life, your knuckles turning white at the effort. Eventually, you let out a deep, heavy sigh as the coaster finally comes to a stop, leaving you disheveled and nervous. Beside you, Jun vibrates in excitement. He's laughing like a kid as the restraints go up.

"Let's do it again!" he says.

You and your best friend laugh, then quickly sober up as you realize that you are at an amusement park after all.

"Let's get on a softer ride before we go back on this one."

"Alright!" Jun says excitedly.

Jun walks ahead of you and Joshua, excited to get on the next one.

Joshua leans closer to you. "If you feel sick, just let me know so I can help calm him down, alright?"

You nod, and follow after Jun.

There's a giant inflatable slide ahead of you that has a giant inflatable ball on it.

"I want to go on that!" Jun squeals.

"That's a lot of fun, huh?" You say back.

After a few minutes of waiting in line, you get onto the giant inflatable slide.

"Come on!" Jun excitedly takes your hand and pulls you to the slide.

You sit down in the middle of the slide, and let out a laugh as the inflatable ball inflates in front of you. As you and Jun glide down the slide, you look at your childhood friend. His bright, beautiful smile makes you feel at ease. Slowly, steadily, you let all your worries and concerns wash away. Compared to his pale face just after the concert, he seems happier now. That's enough to satisfy you.

As you both laugh and have an enjoyable time, the three of you ride the giant inflatable slide again and again. After about half an hour, you finish off the giant slide and get onto the next ride.

To those that don't know Jun, he may seem like a calm and cool pianist, but in reality, he's the most energetic man-child you know. He screams with joy with practically every ride he gets on.

You and Joshua manage to calm him down by convincing him to eat lunch and go on soft rides to prevent indigestion. You all sit together on the side of the park, munching on the lunch Joshua brought from home.

"After all these years, your mom's sandwiches are still the best, Josh." You say.

"Aren't they though?"

You smile and nod in reply. You take another bite of the sandwich, enjoying the stringy meat as it slides down your throat.

"I'll go buy some drinks." Joshua says. "Anything you guys want?"

"I'll have orange juice." You say.

"I'll have one of those drinks too, please." Jun says.

"Alright, I'll be back." Joshua says.

You and Jun continue to eat and chat as you wait for Joshua. You take a bite of the sandwich and start up the conversation. "Man, it feels like yesterday we all first met in music class. That was such a different time, you know?"

"Yeah..."

"Joshua and I were learning guitar for fun, and somehow we both ended up in majors completely unrelated to music.

"Yeah, I remember. Good old days." Jun says, his tone suddenly turning somber. "I just... Don't know what I'm going to do after college."

"What do you mean? You're going to be a professional pianist! I'll go to all your shows and buy all your releases!"

"Oh, you will?"

The two of you laugh as you take another bite of your sandwich. "Well I mean, if it gets expensive, I'll split the cost with Josh"

Moments later, Joshua comes back with the drinks.

"Here you are." He says, handing you each a small cup of orange juice.

"Thanks, Josh." You say, taking a sip from your cup.

The three of you finish your lunch and walk around before getting on the merry-go-round that's in the center of the park. As you slowly turn, you think about how much has happened since you first met. Your friendship with Joshua and Jun has strengthened and gotten closer to what it is now. You were happy to have these guys with you in your life. You pull out your phone and take a selfie with the three of you on the ride.

'Best friends.' You think to yourself with a smile.

You look up at the Ferris wheel. There are a few people still waiting to get on, along with a little girl and her mother.

"Let's get on the Ferris wheel later on during sunset." Joshua says. "The view of the city will be beautiful during that time."

"Yeah, a Ferris wheel sounds fun." You reply.

For the next few hours, you and your friends ride all the rides, eat all the food, and enjoy every moment you can. Even though you and Joshua are almost out of energy, Jun is as happy and energetic as ever.

He mainly uses his phone to take pictures and videos of himself. It came to a point where you could barely stand because of the dizziness, so you and Joshua had to stop him from riding any of the roller coasters.

Eventually, the sunset comes around, and you three fall in line for the Ferris wheel. Just as the three of you were about to step in, Joshua pulls out his phone as if to pick up a call.

"Oh man, wait I need to take this call." He says, even though you see no sign of a call on his screen. Joshua pushes the both of you in. "Go on without me."

You didn't have time to think before he closes the door and leaves you and Jun alone in the cart. The Ferris wheel turns, taking you and Jun higher at a slow pace. Somehow, being alone with him makes your heart beat faster. You look over at Jun, who's looking out to the city as the orange light hits his face. It's a new experience for you, being this close to him. The two of you don't say a word, just take in the view.

"Hey, I want to tell you something." Jun says quietly.

You turn your head to him, who seems to sit uncomfortably in his place.

Jun takes a deep breath in. "I'm afraid that if we stay friends, I'll lose you as we grow up. You're a really important person to me, and I don't want to lose you."

A lump forms in your throat. "Don't worry about that." You tell him. "We'll always be friends. No one is taking you away from me."

Jun looks down for a moment, and then looks back at you he stares at you for a moment, hesitating. "I love you." He blurts out.

You stare at him in shock while he quickly adds, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that! Just forget I said it!"

"No, don't--"

Before you can say anything further, Jun buries his face into his hands.

You say "Jun?"

"I can't take this anymore." He says in frustration. "We can still be friends if you want. I'll leave you alone if that's what you want."

"Wait, Jun, look at me."

Jun raises his face, refusing to look you in the eyes.

"Calm down, you haven't even heard my reply yet." You lean forward to put your hand on his knee. "You love me? In... That way? "

"I... I'm sorry, but yes."

"Oh..." You exhale. "Why are you apologizing?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, I'm glad you finally said it." You laugh. "All this time I've been holding back because I thought you would never like someone like me."

"That's not true! I do like you! I probably just held back saying it because I didn't want you to leave."

"Well, why would I leave, Jun?" You ask. "You're basically my best friend, and I'm happy spending time with you."

"But, what if I change?"

"You won't."

"What if something makes you so mad at me, that you won't want to be with me anymore?" He says softly, opening himself up to be vulnerable for the first time in years.

"We've had dozens of fights ever since we were kids. But I'm still here."

"What if it's worse than those?"

"Well, we'll deal with it then."

"But what if it's something you can't fix?"

"Then I guess we won't deal with it." You say. "We'll just accept it when it happens."

"Oh." He exhales. "That... That sounds a little bit easier than I thought it would be."

"Easier?" You laugh in disbelief. "Of course it's easier. If things get to a point where we can't deal with it, then we'll still accept each other.”

"Yeah..."

"We'll get through it together."

"I know we will."

Jun links his legs with yours, gently playing around with his fingers.

"I was really scared that I would lose you to someone else." He says.

"Like who?" You laugh.

"Like, maybe even a boy you met at the park."

"That's not gonna happen, I promise." You assure him.

"I know."

"How are we going to explain this to Joshua when we get down?"

"He'll probably figure it out even if we don't say anything." Jun says. "He's pretty smart."

"True..."

Before you know it, the Ferris wheel stops and the two of you exit. When you get down, you see Joshua on his phone on one of the benches. He looks up at the both of you with a smile. You return his smile and walk over to him.

"Hey, guys." He says. "How did it go?"

"It was good!" You answer.

Joshua looks over at Jun, who seems to be pretending that nothing happened. "Say what, let me take a photo of you guys. It's both your first time at this park, we need to document this."

You look at both of your young faces and give each other a look. After a brief moment, when you understand that the other is going through with this, you nod. Joshua takes a photo of the both of you with the Ferris wheel in the background, a large grin on his face

"Perfect." He says, returning his phone to his pocket. "Let's go and take a break at the cafe."

Joshua walks ahead of you and Jun, and you both follow. Jun shyly links his pinky with yours, swinging his arms around happily.

"Thank you for coming with me, I really had a good time here." He says.

"Anytime." You smile. - END -

[spasmsofthought]

unfinished (zuko x reader)

I altered the events of the ATLA finale unknowingly in the first part of this series, so I guess this could be considered a bit AU, but not really. I imagine the reader to be about the same age as Zuko in the cartoon, but it’s really not that big of a preference; read it however you want! 

Read the first part of this series here: Silence

So, the first part was set the night before the big finale battle during Sozin’s Comet. This part is set the morning of that day, so Zuko didn’t wait in his uncle’s tent alllll night - in this piece of fiction he stepped out for a break, which is why what happened with him and the reader happened. 

I was listening to Meet Me on the Battlefield by SVRCINA as I wrote this and found it very fitting for the mood I was trying to portray for this piece. 

I hope you guys enjoy! Feel free to let me know what you think. 

Like, comment, reblog! xo 

- 

“I’m a coward,” You sigh to Katara. 

There is so little time to prepare for today that everyone is doing what they can to soak in the simplicity of eating breakfast. She looks at you for a moment before setting her bowl and chopsticks down on the low table sitting before you both. 

“We’re about to go into battle and you choose now to let everyone know that?” Sokka interrupts, using his chopsticks as a tool to point towards you. It’s not an accusing action, but it still makes the nerves in your stomach fizz around like they’re trying to escape. There’s still some grains of rice that stick to the ends, one grain even falls onto the table. It’s a little gross how much of a slob Sokka can be, but you brush it away for today. There are more important things to worry about. 

He’s doing his best, but the joke falls a little flat. 

Sokka has grown leaps and bounds as a leader, but this morning’s atmosphere is not conducive to running jokes on someone else’s self-admitted flaws or weaknesses. 

Katara glares at her brother, “Shut up and finish your breakfast.” 

Sokka focuses back on his meal, grumbling words under his breath that you both ignore, and Katara subtly turns towards you. She takes your face in, or at least that’s what you think she’s doing as she stares at you. 

“What happened?” Her voice is softer, closer to a whisper. You have to lean in just to make sure the conversation stays between you both. 

Your elbows rest on your knees and your face falls into your hands. After you walked away from Zuko, you spent the rest of early morning as the sun rose lying on your pallet trying to reconcile the fact that you could die today and you were always the type of person to save important things for the very last minute. 

“It couldn’t have been that bad... whatever it is you did,” Katara says compassionately, her hand smoothing down your hair. She can be such a mother sometimes. 

“I kissed him,” You slightly grimace at the words. They’re bittersweet coming from your mouth. 

Both Sokka and Katara know who you’re talking about. As oblivious as Zuko is, you wear your heart on your sleeve in the same manner. They knew what you were feeling before you would even admit it to yourself. 

Sokka chokes and coughs loudly, ever the eavesdropper. Once he’s recovered, he looks at you with his mouth gaping open making a sound of unbelief. It only makes you want to curl inside yourself. 

“Okay...” Katara nods assuredly, like it isn’t that big of a deal. Like she’s not a teenager who’s also trying to figure out romance during war-time. You wish you had her confidence. “Well, how did he react?” 

Her curiosity will be the death of you. You can feel the grimace become more pronounced and you push your hair away from your face, eyes focusing on the surrounding scenery. Here it comes. 

“Uh...” You don’t know what to do with your hands, or with yourself. “I kind of walked away before he could say anything about it.” 

Sokka groans and slaps the palm of his right hand onto his forehead, leaving a red-ish mark (that looks like a blob) on his forehead, and turns his focus back on his meal. Katara only shakes her head and rolls her eyes with a slight smirk on her face as she turns her body to be perpendicular with the low-sitting table, picking up her bowl and chopsticks. 

“You two are perfect for each other.”

The entrance of Zuko and his uncle Iroh interrupts any chance you had at a reply to Katara. 

Everyone moves away from the solitary table, including yourself, so you can all sit in a circle together. They are greeted warmly and are handed breakfast, but it’s easy to tell the atmosphere has shifted. 

The reality of what today is can no longer be ignored. 

The group settles as Zuko and his uncle talk. You pay little attention to the words, trying to focus on the moment. Gathered together as a sort-of mismatched family, this may be the last time you are all together. 

Your stomach turns. 

Iroh makes it evident that Zuko is to become the next Fire Lord, which in no way surprises you. It was his destiny. The group is split up like you thought it would be: Katara and Zuko will travel to the Fire Nation Capital to face Azula, his sister, and challenge her for his birthright. You will travel with Suki, Toph, and Sokka to take down the Fire Nation airships.

“Don’t you want to come with us?” Katara asks, motioning to you and Zuko as the group separates to prepare to leave. You give her a sad sort of smile; the kind that tells her you had already decided. 

“I’d only be in your way. I can do much more if I go with your brother.” 

Appa and the rest is patiently waiting as you stand with her in what could be your final goodbye. 

“Besides, riding a giant eel hound this once will make more more grateful to be on Appa’s back next time.” You give a laugh, but it comes out as a small sob, too. 

Katara grips you in a tight hug, like she’s trying to press her strength into you so it’s something you can share with each other. You wrap your arms around her as your eyes water. 

It’s hard to be separated from the only family you’ve ever really known with the possibility, tucked in a corner of your heart, that you may never see Katara or Zuko ever again. Even Sokka, Suki, or Toph if you all somehow manage to get separated from each other. 

“Be smart. I love you, sister.” Her voice is infused with the kind of steel you need to hear. The term of familial endearment makes her squeeze you tighter for a second. “We’ll see you when this is over,” Katara says as she finally pulls away. 

You can only manage to nod as you do your best to discreetly wipe away the tear tracks on your cheeks.  

“I’ll see you then.” You give her a barely-there smile. 

She makes her way over to Toph, Suki, and Sokka. You know they’ve already said their goodbyes to each other, but it doesn’t hurt to have one more before today actually starts. 

Zuko now stands in front of you, silent as ever. You look away for a second, trying to take a deep breath in, but your lungs take in only a shallow one. You’re unsure of what to do or what to say. Despite the fact that you kissed him last night, you both had built up a decent friendship as he traveled with the group. 

You meet Zuko’s eyes finally after a few moments, feeling brave enough to do so. The amber color gives you a sort of strange comfort, a bit like the feeling of home (not that you know much about that feeling). 

There’s too much to say and no time to say it; to say anything. 

I might be in love with you. The truth reverberates in your soul, like it’s going to stay rooted there no matter how much you try to tug it out of the ground. 

You’re not sure you should reach out and touch him, but you do anyway. Your hand rests on his left shoulder, gently trying to steady both yourself and him.

Like you’re trying to hold onto him for as long as you can; as long as the spirits will allow.  

“Don’t be reckless.” It’s the only thing you can manage, knowing him the way you do. Your eyes stay on his, like you’re both trying to communicate something without wasting the space with a bunch of words and failing. 

Zuko’s eyes roam, though you don’t know what they’re exactly looking for on your face. You try to take him in, like last night. You try to do your bet to memorize what he looks like. Like if you can stare hard enough, long enough, he will be burned into your mind forever. 

There are too many things to say and no time to say any of them. There are too many things that may remain forever unsaid. You don’t know what to do with that. There is an incompleteness you feel as you stand in front of him. 

That’s the funny thing about war: it leaves a lot of things unfinished. 

“Don’t lose,” You voice almost breaks, and you think Zuko knows that. You can see Katara climb up to Appa’s saddle out of your peripheral vision. There’s rustling behind you that tells you your group is waiting for you as they adjust themselves on the giant eel hound. 

You don’t know if he knows, but it’s too late now. There’s no time. 

I might be in love with you. 

He’s oblivious, you think. 

“I’ll do my best,” Zuko finally says and your eyes can’t help but water. It’s all too much. There’s too much you need to say; too much you need to do. There’s too much to feel. You don’t let the tears escape. 

Your hand drifts down his shoulder slowly and he grips your hand in his before it can come back to your side. You don’t know what it means, but you hope you’ll remember this moment for the rest of your life. 

I might be in love with you. 

“I have to go, and so do you,” You nod your head forward to where Katara and Appa are prepared to leave. 

You take a step backwards and so does Zuko. He holds onto your hand until it has to slip out of his. The fingers that had been intertwined together now only hold air. You don’t know what he wants, what he meant. You don’t know how to read him, and now you are heading into a battle you may not even survive.

If only things had been different. If only you had been braver. 

You make you way to the eel hound and climb on to the saddle. It’s big enough to fit four people, which would impress you more if you weren’t focused on other things.

There’s a small speech that Iroh gives to you all, and you listen half-heartedly, trying to get your emotions under control. It’s firm and confident, but like everything else today, it doesn’t last long. 

The eel hound takes off just as Appa begins his ascent to the sky. You keep your eyes on the sky bison as long as you can, but after a few short seconds you lose their position in the sky. The wind whips your hair into a frenzy and something heavy settles in you.

I might be in love with you. 

Indeed, there are things war leaves unfinished. 

[endless-whump]

Nothing: Oliver POV

CW: depressive episode (from whumpee’s pov), referenced conditioning, self deprecation, self harming/destructive behavior, references to past captivity/torture, ptsd, hopelessness, this one is more focused on the angst but is still soft

Simon’s POV (more caretaking focused)

Masterlist

--

It was dark.  He felt heavy, eyes unfocused as he lay under layers of heavy blankets, unmoving.  Breathing felt like a difficult, manual task, chest rising and falling in shallow labored breaths.  He couldn’t move.

“Oliver?”

He didn’t have the energy to even flinch at the familiar voice.  A soft hand rested on his shoulder, a dark figure crouching in front of him.  Simon's face was twisted in worry, eyes peering at him curiously.

“Are you sick?”

He weakly shook his head, pulling the blankets tighter around his shoulders.  He pulled his knees closer to his chest.  There had been a desk pushed in front of his door, Simon must have been able to move it.  He wanted it all to just go away.

“Oliver, you’re scaring me.”

He choked drily on a sob, hiding his face.  He didn’t want Simon to see him like this.  He wasn’t sure why he cared, why he didn’t yell and scream for Simon to leave and not hurt him, why he stopped expecting Simon to hurt him.  Something had faded away with the nights spent sneaking into the other rescue’s room, an unspoken agreement between them that something had changed.  Neither of them knew what, but neither of them were going to complain.

“I, I feel a,awful, Simon I f,feel..feel awful,”

Everything felt like nothing, like he was choking, like he was weighed down onto the mattress with enough to suffocate him.  He felt hollow, like something was clawing at the inside of him and screaming and begging to just be put out of its misery.  He pulled at his hair, groaning in frustration.  

“Like- static awful?”

Oliver looked up, wiping tears from his eyes.  He couldn’t help but tilt his head to the side, just a little, confused.

“H,How do you know that?”

The mattress dipped under his weight as Simon settled down next to him, the blanket pulled back from where it was draped over his head.  He blinked in surprise when Simon kissed the top of his head, hugging him close.

“Here's what’s gonna happen.  I’m gonna go run you a hot shower, and get you some clean clothes.  You get yourself washed up and I’m gonna get you some food, okay?”  

A finger lifted his chin, their eyes locking, and Oliver didn’t pull away.  He wasn’t sure why.  He wanted to cry from how concerned Simon looked, how careful.  Like he was trying his hardest not to scare him.

Why does he care this much about me. Why would anybody.

“You lock the bathroom door, whatever you’re comfortable with, I’ll leave the clean clothes in front of the door.  Is that ok?”

He thought for a moment, savoring the idea that this was a decision, an offer being given him instead of an order.  He nodded.  Something tugged at his chest as Simon stood, backing away from him with a reassuring look.  Stay, he thought painfully.

“Good.  I’ll go start the water, you can come with me or just stay right here until I leave, that's up to you.”

Oliver winced when he opened the curtains, the beginning light of sunrise peeking through the blinds.  He could see what a mess the room was, now, shame curling in his chest as he held back tears.  He felt disgusting.  The carpet was oddly cold under his feet as he forced himself to swing his legs over the bed, letting the blanket slip off his shoulders and fall back onto the bed.  Simon was already in the bathroom, and he could hear water running.  

Why do you care

Why was that what I was hoping for

He pushed himself to his feet, swaying as his legs struggled to keep him upright, feet burning with the sharp, stabbing pain of being asleep for too long.  Fear clutched at him as his vision blurred, darkening as a wave of dizziness washed over him before he steadied himself.  Muscles cramped painfully as he trembled, trying not to let panic take over him.  He needed to stand.  He needed to be able to do as he was told.  A sharp memory flashed behind his eyes, flashes of bruised knees and bloody hands and blood curdling wails, his wails, he realized, forcing itself into his mind.  He shook it away as best as he could.

The bathroom was bright, and Oliver had to squint as he creeped into the room, leaning heavily against the doorframe.  There was something in the way Simon moved with such purpose and instinct that made him choke on the lump in his throat, wishing more than anything that he could just remember.

“Lemme know if the temperature is too much, there's towels on the counter and I’ll get you some fresh clothes.”

He had to resist the urge to cringe back when Simon straightened up, turning to him.  There was a look in his eyes; not pity, but something else.  Oliver tried to ignore it.  

“Let me know if you need anything.”

All he could do was nod.

The water was pleasantly warm on his skin, but he still turned the knob closer to the red indicator, eyes blank as it reached an uncomfortably hot temperature.  His legs weren't going to hold him up any longer, he realized, sinking slowly to the floor of the shower, eyes burning as water ran down his face from his now soaking hair.  There were tears now, too, but he couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

He fumbled blindly, finding the bottle of shampoo on the small shelf of the shower, resigning to at least wash the hair that had gotten so matted the last few days.  The knots hurt to tug at, fingers clumsy as he combed through his hair, but he didn’t care.  

He didn’t realize he was crying until he was gasping for air, knuckles pale as he clutched at his hair, out of breath.  The sound of water filled his ears as he buried his face against his knees pulled to his chest, sobs wet and ragged, voice rising to a weak wail of pure frustration.

He snatched up a washcloth, staring blankly at it for a moment as it quickly soaked with water, and began scrubbing.  He wasn’t even using soap, just a hopeless, desperate need to scrub the aching numbness from his skin, the shadows of hands and touch.  He scrubbed at his skin until it hurt, until his scars were irritated and the water ran a soft pink down the drain. He scrubbed until his skin felt numb, throat sore from crying, hands shaking so hard he could barely hold the cloth.

And then there was nothing.  Just empty tears muffled by the sound of running water, making his chest ache with a need for release he felt like he’d never get.  He stayed like that until the water started to go cold, lifting his head weakly to blink water from his eyes, his energy to even cry gone.

It took everything he had in him to push himself to his feet, careful not to slip on his unsteady feet.  He was left in uncomfortable silence as he cut the water off, water dripping steadily from the faucet.  His skin was red, felt raw and torn, a trickle of blood running down to his fingertips.

The towels and clothes were waiting as promised, and pulling them on made him feel just a little whole again.  He was surprised to find the sheets on the bed changed, sinking down onto the mattress with a towel still draped over his damp hair.  The clothes were a comfortable, soft material, but they felt about two sized too big and Oliver couldn’t help but wonder if these were his, or-

“Feel a little better?”

Oliver glanced up at the voice, tired gaze falling on Simon yet again at the doorway.  He gave another silent, jerky nod, fidgeting idly at the hem of his shirt.  His gaze fell on the two steaming bowls Simon held.  His stomach twisted in a mixture of hunger for the food and nausea at even the idea of eating it.  Simon must have sensed the hesitation in his look, giving him a look.

“You haven’t eaten in almost two days- and don’t even argue with me, your sneaking habits are extremely predictable.”

He felt like he’d been hit.  He looked away, suddenly feeling like he couldn’t breathe.  He thought about how he’d let himself get into a pattern, a routine of sneaking downstairs for food and to do laundry and to shower and all the things he didn’t feel safe doing around anyone else.  Easy to predict made him easy to hunt, to find, to hurt-

“Seeing them stop made me worried,” The words stopped Oliver’s thoughts in their tracks.  Simon’s voice had a hint of desperation that made Oliver glance back at him, seeing what he almost could’ve called regret   “Now eat.  Please.”

He obediently picked the bowl up as it was placed in front of him, ignoring the shake of his fingers as he brought a bite to his mouth.  He could’ve cried again at the spark of something in his chest as he ate, feeling a little less sick than before.  He let his tense shoulders drop, but still wouldn’t look up at Simon.

The feeling of skin against his when Simon went to take the bowl from him made him flinch, more surprise than fear.

“Sorry,” Simon murmured, setting the dish aside.  

Why

Oliver shrugged, gaze falling on a book sitting by the bottle of vitamins.  He didn’t dare try to read the cover but instead observed the cover, a picture of green mountains interlaced with gold and brown and symbols he couldn’t even begin to guess the meaning of.  It looked strangely familiar, though.

“It was your favorite, I used to read it to you a lot.”

He blinked, and his voice seemed to work without him even realizing.

“Could you read it now?”

He surprised himself with the question.  He didn’t expect himself to ask Simon to even stay, or expect him to.  He felt something ease in his chest, though, when Simon nodded, leaning back against the pillows.

Fuck it, he thought to himself, and moved to curl up right against Simon’s side.  He was warm, and strong, and all the things that could have and should have hurt Oliver at the moment of vulnerability, but they didn’t.  He didn’t.  For what felt like the hundredth time today his eyes filled with tears, feeling like that emptiness was just clawing at his chest yet again, inevitable.

“What's wrong?”

He took a slow, shaky breath, willing his voice not to break as he tried to respond.

“Why do I feel so…”  His voice trailed off, dull eyes closing as he let out a breath of frustration.  “Like nothing. Just...nothing.”

Gentle hands wrapped around him, holding him close as a blanket was dragged over them.  It was nothing more than what they’d done silently, in the night, but here there felt like an admittance to it, instead of a simple, unspoken agreement to act like it never happened.

“I honestly can’t tell you why, but I can tell you that it always goes away, eventually.”  He watched Simon open the book, fingers gentle as he turned the page.  “And I’ll always be here as long as you want me.”  

Oliver couldn’t help but lean into the kiss pressed against the side of his head, giving in to the instinct to relax under the surprisingly protective embrace, feeling the soft vibrations of his chest as he started reading.  The words felt familiar, like a clear breath.  A memory, maybe.  But clearest of all was the sharp, almost fearful realization, and even sharper admittance, that he wanted Simon to stay as long as he’d have him, too.

--

@insanitywishes @18-toe-beans @castielamigos-whump-side-blog@simplygrimly @cinnamonflavoredhugs @finder-of-rings @deluxewhump @ashintheairlikesnow @briars7 @albino-whumpee @thatsthewhump @princessofonward​

[teaspoon-full-of-sugar]

wrong

pairing: stanley barber x reader

warnings: drug use (of course), spoilers for season finale, arguments, cursing

word count: 2.2 k

synopsis: in which stanley is in love with his best friend, and y/n has had enough of the distance.

—

Stanley Barber remembers vividly the first time he ever got high.

He was barely 13 when he found his father's stash in the old china chest in the corner of the dining room, and it took him a couple months to gather the courage to actually use it. His mother was gone, claiming to be at the neighbor lady's house for a "wine night"; he later found out that she went there to sleep with the neighbor lady's husband. He couldn't blame her for the affair, though.

Looking back on that night, he sounds a little pitiful. He was by himself, coughing and choking on the burning smoke. He laughed and talked to himself until he passed out, content and calm. It wasn't an overwhelming high, or an exhausting high, or even a powerful high, but he would never forget that night.

The next morning, he woke up with a foggy mind, burning eyes, and a wide smile. He strutted proudly out of his house that morning, his satchel dragging behind him, and quickly caught up to his neighbor, Y/N, who had her baggy hoodie bundled in her arms, wrapped tightly around her middle as she sluggishly walked down the wet sidewalk. He remembers the sour look on her face, her eyes downcast and heavy as she grumbled about how early it was. She gave him an incredulous look when he told her about his escapades the night before; she didn't believe him. A part of him was offended when she started laughing, brows cocked with judgment in her eyes.

"I swear," he said. "I'll prove it to you."

She just rolled her eyes, nudged him with her elbow, and scoffed.

"Sure, Stan."

Later that night, he took her to the basement, offered her a joint, and the rest is history.

That was also the night that Stanley Barber finally admitted to himself that he liked Y/N.

He knew that night they first got high together. He knew when he saw that blissful smile on her lips, when her nose scrunched up when she laughed, and when she fell asleep on his arm, features happy and carefree and relaxed. He knew when they woke the next morning, her eyes swollen with sleep, that he would do anything to see her that happy again.

Now that he's (almost) a man and in high school, he can assuredly say that he loves her.

But Stanley Barber, to put it lightly, is weak, riddled with anxiety and self-doubt, so he's never had the courage to tell her how he feels. Every weekend for the past three years, he has wanted to confess his undying love for her, like in the movies. He's thought about it so many different ways; maybe one night he would hold a boombox outside her house, or he would just gather the courage to kiss her. He dreamed of her, holding his hands one night after getting high, and while he was rambling about the meaning of life, she would cut him off by kissing him, her lips tasting like weed and Oreo's and something that is just uniquely her.

But that never happens.

In his junior year of high school, he is confident for once in his life, and he asks Syd out. He never really considered why he wasn't nervous when he asked Syd out. Perhaps, it was because he was certain she wouldn't say no, or, and this is the more likely scenario of the two, he didn't really care if she shot him down. He didn't care if Sydney refused his advances because she wasn't really the one who he had feelings for; she wasn't the one who occupied his every thought. Sydney wasn't the one who held his heart. God, that sounds stupidly sappy. He hates himself for even thinking that.

But he could learn. He could learn to love her as much as he loves his best friend.

Or at least that's what he tells himself.

Nevertheless, he started seeing more and more of Sydney Novak and less of Y/N. He tried not to notice, but he did. (Of course, he did). Y/N would claim to have to stay in class for lunch to finish a project, and then, she started walking home after school instead of riding home with him. Soon, she stopped showing up to their weekend hangouts, which were once filled with smoke, laughter and blissful stories.

It was a good thing, he told himself over and over. It was a good thing. He needed to get out of that relationship. It was starting to take a toll on his mental health. He eventually started to push Sydney into the void that Y/N once had.

When Sydney told him about her mind powers or whatever, it was just another thing to distract him.

That's all everything was anymore: a distraction from his feelings.

Then, it all went to shit. All those distractions and excuses he made came crumbling down.

It's the night of Homecoming. Sydney left him for Dina as soon as they got there, but he didn't expect any different. Y/N isn't there; no one asked her, and he hadn't bothered seeing if she would want to go with him and Sydney, since she hadn't bothered talking to him for the past weeks, even though it was basically his fault. He doesn't dwell on that thought. Then, Bradley pushed Sydney too far, and well... he lost his head. The drive home is a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and blood. He couldn't find Sydney.

He comes home that night to see Y/N lying on his bed, feet propped up on his pillow with too-big socks slipping off her heels. She doesn't move when he kicks his shoes off, unbuttons his shirt; she doesn't look at him, not even when he slips under the covers beside her.

"How was your night?" He asks, but she doesn't answer, the sound of her shallow breaths being the only sound in the room, besides the buzzing from the old lights by the bar. He sighs. "My night was great. Thanks for asking."

He wants to burst, anger and insecurity making it hard for him to breath. He wants so badly to tell her everything: what's been going on with Sydney, with Bradley; he wants to scream until his lungs give out because he just feels like no one can hear him, or even notice him for that matter. He wants her to know how much he wishes she was with him tonight, how she makes things easier for him. He just wishes she could understand, but she won't, and she never will. Why? Because he is a scared little boy, and that's all he'll ever be.

"Don't be a dick, Stan," she mutters, words slurring together slightly.

"How high are you?"

"Too high," she answers, trying to keep her composure. That's when he notices her legs twitching, her barely open eyes, a half eaten Cosmic Brownie and a crumpled water bottle on the ground.

"Do you need to throw up?" He asks tiredly, knowing how she can get when she's had too much, and, judging by her sluggish movements, she's nearly there.

"No." She says.

They sit in silence, and for the first time in the history of their friendship, it's awkward.

"I'm mad at you," she says suddenly. "I am very angry with you." Her voice breaks toward the end. He can't see it, but a tear slips down Y/N's cheek, wetting her hair.

He never noticed how much of an effect it had on her when he left. Stan was her only friend, and the fact that he left her alone for some other girl made her understand how fragile she feels without Stan beside her. She hates how dependent she is on him, so she did what any other person would do: pushed herself away. She always thought that it was always going to be just her and Stan, but she was sorely mistaken. It was petty, really. It started off with little things, like being snippy whenever he brought Syd up; then it escalated, and it eventually got to the point where she would leave whenever Sydney was going to come over.

When Stan told her that he and Sydney slept together, it was over.

Y/N hated how many tears she cried for him. She hated the fact that she was never good enough for him. She hated having those stupid memories with him, and she hated the fact that she still loved him. Despite the fact that he seemed to care so little about their friendship, despite the pain he put her through, she couldn't get him out of her head; she couldn't sleep without dreaming of him, and her days were plagued with thoughts of him.

And it broke her to see him so happy with someone else.

So, she cut herself out of his life completely because surely, she would be fine on her own, right?

Once again, she was mistaken.

Despite how hurt and resentful she was, she could not stay away.

"Why? Is that why you've been avoiding me? I haven't seen you in weeks, and now, you come around when you need a hit. And you break into my room and use my stash. What the hell, Y/N? You're angry with me? I should be angry with you," he spits, sitting up quickly.

She shakes her head, breathing out through her nose. She turns onto her side, facing away from him. He feels his face heat up, anger and frustration seeping through every pore, but behind all that—the hurt and the resentment—he feels empty and broken.

"Fucking look at me, Y/N," he grits out, his emotions getting the better of him. Stanley has always been a picker; he pushes and pushes until he gets a reaction out of the person. He did the same with Sydney at the bowling alley (and he nearly got his head taken off) and he does the same with his father. Maybe it's to get a reaction or attention.

"Why are you angry with me? Huh?" He asks again, poking her and pulling at her arm to make her look at him.

"What is wrong with me?" She sits up suddenly, making them nose-to-nose. Stan visibly recoils, brows furrowing and lips twitching. She looks tired, her shoulders sagging.

"What?"

"What is so wrong with me, huh?" Her bottom lip trembles, and tears swell in her red, hooded eyes. "I have been with you through everything, with your dad, your mom—" She looks down at her trembling hands, snot dripping from her nose. She wipes it away with the sleeve of her sweater, sighing weakly. "Then, suddenly, that's not enough, and you ditch me for Sydney fucking Novak, and you—you..." The words die on her tongue, and she looks so sad, her lips puckered to keep from crying any more. "You kiss her and hug her and—" She swallows, pain etching her features. She curls into herself, hugging a knee to her chest. "What is so wrong with me?"

Stan is in absolute awe. He wants to pull her into his arms and sink into the comforter, kissing her, but he can barely move, his heart racing in his chest. He stutters, looking for the right words. This is it; this is the moment he has been waiting for. The past three years he has dreamed of her baring her heart to him, professing her undeniable love for him, but he can't even speak. He is, for once in his life, completely at a loss for words. Whether from frustration or elation, he doesn't know, but he can feel tears forming in his eyes, nose burning and skin clammy. He lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding on to, his heart racing.

He shakily puts his hands to the crook of her neck, holding onto her warm skin like a lifeline. He looks down at her lips; they're tucked into her mouth, teeth biting at them nervously. His thumb traces the bottom lip, easing it out from her teeth. She looks at him with anxious eyes, wide and pleading for him to make a move.

And he does.

He kisses her.

It's not what he expects, really. There isn't any fireworks or chills, and it doesn't leave him gasping for breath. No, in fact, it feels like he's breathing for the first time; it fills him with warmth and security and such relief. And as she holds onto him, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle, he has never felt more at home. He has never felt so content and peaceful.

"Absolutely nothing," he says after they pull apart, resting his forehead against hers. It feels like there has been a weight lifted off his shoulders. He runs his thumb over her cheek, wiping away tear marks from her skin. She sniffles, leaning into his touch. He kisses her nose, a wide smile creeping over his features.

"There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

[soundofez]

@mastar-week​ 2021, day 3// solace

The Untamed AU. In the end, even Black Star cannot defy his own death. The clans gather to facilitate his fall.

Maka doesn’t let them. It drives her own clan half-mad, but she will not give the world a dying man to execute. She will not give up the man she has left so long abandoned. She will not let Black die unloved.

Warnings: hurt/comfort but mostly hurt, insanity, major character death. this one's a big ouchie my guys ಥvಥ

Ten Years Ago.

After the last surviving branch of the Star clan finally submits itself to the judgment of the Death clan, the wards around the Sunken Hills fail.

The other clans swarm, metaphorical pitchforks readied, eager to tear apart the notorious Last Dragon of Star. Maka arrives too late to stop them from trespassing; she flies past trampled gardens that twist her heart with grief and fury. How dare they disregard the toil of the people who lived there; how dare they claim themselves superior to innocents who wished only to survive.

She arrives in the central cave, the so-called Den of the Last Dragon, to find Black Star holding the rioting clans at bay, untouchable even now, shorn hair tied into powerful charms and dried blood applied with morbid skill to woven talismans. The stink of rotting yin is almost overpowering: lesser cultivators lie strewn about, their natural yang insufficient to counter such high concentrations of that dark energy.

Maka waits until she is noticed, until the assembled cultivators finally back away from Black's final wards. They ask her if she wants the honor, and she nods curtly in return. "Only right," they agree, though their voices betray a rapacious hunger for violence. "Only right for the Jade of Death to avenge her young master."

She does not deign to use words with them. They are not the ones who need to hear what she has to say.

When at last they all stand silent and waiting, like circling crows, she walks past their bedraggled ranks to stand before Black Star.

He nods as she approaches, and she walks directly through the wards that had so powerfully repelled the other cultivators. He keeps his charms and talismans to hand, but he makes no move to use them against her.

The look in his eyes frightens her. He is not defeated, not quite; but he is weary and grieving, and to Maka he appears to be awaiting condemnation.

From your sword, he had once told her, I will face my death and consider it just.

Maka casts her own wards in one smooth flourish. They blaze behind her, brighter than Black's wards are dark. "Leave," she says aloud. She does not look away from Black. She cannot bear to, not now, not when there is so little time left between them.

The cultivators grumble with confusion that morphs into surprise and indignation and shock. "She has been bewitched," one of them cries. "He has corrupted her," shouts another.

Maka turns to face them. "Leave," she repeats.

She has to encourage them with a sweeping blow from her sword before they obey. She grants them no more words, even as they express promises to return. (To free her, the stupider ones declare; to slay her, the smarter ones say.)

They do not understand what she is doing. How could they, when they are so utterly convinced of the guilt of the man she is protecting?

Black Star does not seem to understand, either. "What are you doing?" he asks as their opponents flee.

"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago," Maka replies.

Black spreads his arms. "Kill me, then."

The accusation stings. Maka permits it. She has done nothing to earn his faith. "I won't," she replies.

Black Star smiles at her, coughs— there is blood in his teeth, dribbling down his chin— his wards fail, and her own are suddenly blindingly bright—

She lunges to catch him before he can hit the ground.

—

In the end, even Black Star cannot resist his fate. His cultivation technique, which draws so heavily on natural quantities of yin, overwhelms his body's supply of yang.

Maka had known it would happen. She hadn't known how little time Black had left.

They spend those last months together, her and Black Star and a surprise child she found around the back of the cave. The girl's eyes as green as Maka's, though her hair is that brilliant blue infamous to the Star Clan. She looks startlingly, heart-achingly similar to how a child might look if Maka ever bore one for Black Star.

Maka salvages what she can of the former gardens, replanting radishes while little Hoshino Ao does her best to plant herself, too. They collect Black's favorite lychee from the trees, hard-won little things that Black had been so proud to show the cuttings of eighteen months ago, when they had stumbled into each other in the little town at the base of the Sunken Hills. Maka washes and peels and pits the tiny fruits, saving their precious flesh in a shallow dish specially reserved for them. Ao loves them as much as Black does; Maka has to teach the little girl restraint, even as she wishes that she could peel all the lychees the two Stars could ever desire. Ao obliges even so, sharing the dish with Black while 

Maka inspects the illusory wards alone. They cover a smaller area than Black's old wards had, but there is no longer a clan here who needs the space. Maka doesn't have access to the same techniques Black had used to cover such an enormous area, anyway. She secures the edges of the wards as the clans storm around invisible border, oblivious to her presence; Maka in particular watches her father, who appears more distraught than dissatisfied. He is one of the few cultivators to come daily, and the only one to beg and grovel for her to come home. He has an uncanny knack for knowing when she is present; he always seems to start pleading when she is around to hear him.

Maybe it is not so uncanny. He knows the feel of Death clan wards as well as she does, even if he cannot get through them. Still, Maka cannot safely speak to him, and so she doesn't. Time enough for forgiveness after Black dies.

—

They talk quite a lot in those last months, even as excessive yin rots his body and decays his mind. "Why are you protecting me?" he asks early on, while he still has his sanity. "The honorable Jade of Death shouldn't be helping an evil cultivator such as myself."

"You were never evil," Maka says hotly. "I should have protected you sooner."

Black laughs her off, light-hearted even as he waits for his grave.

At other times, Black is morbid. "You'll have to live here forever," he informs her. "If you leave this place, they'll kill you." He says this with regret. You shouldn't have come for me, Maka hears, even though the words do not leave his mouth.

"They won't kill me," Maka replies.

Still other times, Black flirts with her. "You can have your way with me, you know," he'll say, winking. "Nobody can stop you, least of all me. I'll never tell, either."

He is trying to drive her away. Tough: she's not leaving him until one of them dies. She tells him as much, though instead of acknowledging his failing body, she simply says, "I'm never leaving you again."

His spirit fails. He is tormented by ghosts who do not exist and nightmares that escape the realms of sleep. Still, he seems to recognize her. "I missed you, you know," he tells her, half-delirious. "All these months I spent cooped up in these hills, I missed you."

"I missed you, too," Maka replies, pressing a cup of water or a bowl of radish stew to his lips. He seems to hear her, and he smiles.

He starts to forget that she's there: when she returns from gardening or lychee-picking or checking the wards, he will startle and beam at her. "Maka, you've come to visit!" he will cry, or even, "You! I love you!"

She never knows if these last words are truly meant for her. "I love you, too," she replies anyway, pressing lychee flesh to his lips and letting him lick the sweet nectar from her fingers like a child. The fruit seems to keep the horrors at bay, at least for a little bit, at least while she's with him.

The last time he speaks to her, he is strangely coherent. "You shouldn't have gotten involved, Maka."

She sits beside him. "If I'd gotten involved sooner, you wouldn't be dying," she replies, thinking bitterly of the years she's spent dithering, and for what? She is already twenty-two, fast leaving marriageable age, and the love of her life is dying.

He is only twenty-two, and he is dying.

"You don't know that," he replies. "And that's beside the point. You should have let them kill me. The gods know I deserve it."

She leans over him, takes his face in her hands. "You promised you would be killed only by my hands," she tells him. "I will not kill you. I will not let the world execute an innocent man. I will not leave you because you are dying. I should never—" Her voice cracks on the word. She swallows and continues, staring into his black eyes, wondering if she will ever fall into such blackness again. Never, she thinks. It's impossible. "I should never have abandoned you, Black."

I will not let you die unloved, she wants to tell him later, but by then he is beyond hearing.

—

She buries his body. She does not take down the wards. She steps out from the Den of the Last Dragon and into her weeping father's embrace. She pushes Hoshino Ao into his arms before she submits to the clans' judgment.

She is not executed, as she had predicted. Lord Death is still too fond of her. Still, she is sentenced to daily lashes and seclusion for a year. It takes another year for her to recover.

Of course, she never really recovers. She continues living, and she is dutiful to the clan, and she finds some measure of joy in teaching the new cultivators; but she does not begin to recover until she sees a man in plain grey robes, his hair white but his eyes that impossible black, placing a talisman she’s seen many times before on a corpse who should have been long gone.

[mon-dayragingslut4monstaxday6]

Surprise

Being friends with Monsta X is always fun, especially when they make you feel special...even two weeks before your birthday. Part 2. Behind the scenes.

Warning: Fluff, smut, dirty talk, fingering, hand job, sex, praise. (Does mention Wonho not being in the group, but he is still involved)

Word count: 5.4k

A/N: This has been on my list for far too long, always made excuses not to write. As I said in the titleboard, this is part 1 (emphasis on part), so keep that in mind (don’t want to spoil anything, her birthday is going to be, as the kids say, “lit”).

I do not own the photos in this titleboard. The photos are from Pinterest, the board is made from PhotoGrid.

Just two weeks before my birthday! Haven’t been a birthday bitch in a long time. I always hated having a late summer birthday: it’s too hot to party outside, all my friends in school were too busy at their vacations or spent their time school shopping. Probably needed better friends, but that’s why I couldn’t be happier to have my boys in my life! They are the busiest people I know, but they manage to find time for me. I met them at a club in Seoul, one of the first outings I had since I moved, and we instantly clicked! They treat me like a weird hybrid between a queen, sister, and wifey, but they just refer to me as princess or baby. I’m eternally grateful for their support, moving from the states to Korea was a push I never expected to take. Our friendship was rocky at first, due to the rules of us not being seen in public together, but we made a system to work around it. If anything, I just wear a disguise to appear as staff, most fans don’t question it. There was one slip that only a few fans noticed, and thankfully, the rumor didn’t stretch far.

It was one vlive that Changkyun, Jooheon, Minhyuk and Wonho were doing at the dorms and I was just chilling outside of the camera frame. Nothing was out of the ordinary, we’ve done that arrangement before, but Changkyun kept getting distracted and even threw something to get my attention. My yelp was caught in the audio, but thankfully not a lot of people believed it was a female voice.

Today is my turn to bring dinner. It’s our system to eat dinner together: order take-out to go and eat together at the dorms or my apartment. Tonight is cutlet night, fuck yes! I go back home seeing the boys be entirely comfortable in my living room. Spread out all over my couch and floor. Frankly, it’s a beautiful sight, seeing my friends at their second home. They just got back from their United States portion of their tour, so they're extra exhausted.

“Dinner!”, I shout, announcing my return. The boys launch themselves out of their sitting positions and dash to the kitchen. Minhyuk and Honey take the bags, kiss my head and migrate to the kitchen to dish up. Changkyun welcomes me with a soda. He puts his arm over my shoulder and leads me to the kitchen.

“Surprise!”, the boys cheer, presenting a plate of cookies. Fighting back tears, I laugh off my excitement.

“Guys, my birthday is in two weeks”, I choke up.

“You’re worth celebrating a couple of weeks early”, Wonho shrugs. It’s even more special that Wonho is here. I was there when Wonho left the group, I stayed at the dorms for a while because it was too hard to go home. Hiding my friendship with Monsta X from the world was hard, but keeping quiet about communicating with Wonho was worse. I wanted to tell monbebe that he's going to be ok. I wanted to show how beautiful his smile is when we're together. A part of me was glad I couldn't show anything, I had him all to myself. He was a frequent visitor at my apartment, a place of escape. Many nights of ramen, trash television, and tears.

“You better not think we’re finished yet, we still have more plans till your actual birthday”, Honey hands me a cookie. Snickerdoodle? They must’ve remembered it’s my favorite.

“Plans? Like what!”, I eagerly clap, munching on the cookie. I could tell the boys baked these cookies, I could feel the love in it. The boys exchange looks, wondering if they should reveal their plans.

“It’s a surprise”, Nunu nods.

“Come on, I can’t wait, it’ll kill me”, I dramatically pout.

“You can wait, princess”, Hyungwon takes a bite out of a cookie.

“Give me a hint”, I whine.

“We’ll have fun, don’t worry”, Changkyun chuckles, giving me his half smile smirk. Kihyun almost chokes on his drink. Wonho’s eyes widen. Minhyuk bursts out laughing. Hyungwon raises his eyebrows. Honey looks away, hiding his cheeky grin. Shownu manages to hide any expression.

“Did I miss something?”, I mumble.

“It’s a surprise, baby”, Changkyun whispers. I squint my eyes at him. The boys take the trays of food out of the bags to hand them off.

“You know I won’t tell you”, his voice deepens.

“I’ll make you tell me”, I mumble. Changkyun takes the cookie out of my hand.

“I’d love to see you try”, he winks before taking a giant bite. I scoff at him. He knows I like challenges. Do I feel a smile on my face? Are my cheeks warm? Nope, nope, Sarah, quit it. Hyungwon offers to hand me my plate of noodles. I reach to grab it and he plays his little game of “reach” where he lifts anything above his head so I couldn’t get it, emphasizing how tiny I am compared to him. I usually jump up a couple of times for his amusement, but this time I went for the attack. I wrap my arms around his waist and shake him like a pillow. Hyungwon cackles at my attack that may be more of a tickle to him. Wonho grabs the plate from Hyungwon and taps me on the shoulder. I turn around and see the glorious view of Wonho’s big smile, handing me a plate of deliciously steaming food.

"My hero", I flutter my eyelashes. Wonho kisses my forehead and hands me the plate.

"Eat, princess", he whispers. I scrunch my face at him, he mirrors. Honey hands me a can of soda from the fridge. I blow him a kiss as a thank you, he joking catches it. We all grab our plates, some drinks and sit in the living room to eat. Like a big family, we crack jokes, steal food off each other's plates, talk about our day. I wish I could have these every night, but I'm happy to have this a couple times a week. Changkyun and I have been sitting at the end of my coffee table, lefties always stick together. He uses his chopsticks to snatch some noodles out of mine. I gasp. Want to play this game? I’ll play this game. I grab his bowl of rice and stick my tongue out at him. Changkyun pouts his lips and rests his head on my shoulder. How could he be such a demon then a puppy within seconds? I put his bowl back in front of him. He hums pleasantly.

“Don’t steal my noodles”, I whisper. He kisses my shoulder and nuzzles.

“What’s up with you? You got a crush on me?”, I tease him. He adjusts his posture, sitting up straight, avoiding any eye contact with me. I must’ve hit a nerve.

“Kyun, I was kidding”, I assure. His cheeks are a bright shade of pink.

“Kyun? Baby?”, I pout, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

“What makes you think I have a crush on you?”, his voice deepens.

“Aren’t you seeing that guy from the corner store?”, he adds with a little snarl.

“You’re seeing someone?”, Honey buts in. Shush, shush, shush, don’t bring attention.

“Sarah, you’re seeing someone?!”, Minhyuk gasps. Fuck, I wanted to forget about that guy.

“Things didn’t work out between us, that’s all”, I confess. Some express relief? Some express confusion.

“You were seeing someone and didn’t tell us?”, Kihyun acts hurt.

“It was nothing, really. Went on a couple of dates, but things came up”, I shrug.

“Like what?”, Shownu wonders, doing his cute little furrowed eyebrow thing. I shouldn’t tell them, they don’t have to know.

“You don’t need to know”, I nervously laugh. Changkyun's mood changes from sulky to intrigued, devilish even.

“What happened baby?”, he bites his lip. I grip the cuffs of my sweatshirt.

“Well”, I cough.

“It’s ok, let’s talk it out”, Changkyun lifts his chin.

“Fine, if you guys want to know”, I sigh. If he wants to play this game, I dominate this game.

“He can’t fuck worth a damn”, I raise an eyebrow before taking a sip of my soda. The boys are speechless, every jaw dropped.

“What was he doing wrong?”, Shownu coughs. My sweet teddy bear, you shouldn’t have asked.

“Shallow pumper who thinks he’s doing something then cums too soon, but complains I’m too wet”, I shamelessly confess. Kihynu chokes on air. Minhyuk and Jooheon express disappointment.

“So yes, I’m not seeing him anymore”, I assure. Shownu and Hyungwon chuckle under their breath. Changkyun couldn’t stop smiling.

“Good riddance”, Minhyuk exclaims.

“Princess deserves her prince”, Hyungwon wipes sauce off of his bottom lip, sneaking a little wink. This room is too warm for me, I need to change out of this sweatshirt. I excuse myself from the table. 67 in here? Why am I so warm! Too many bodies probably.

I dig through my drawers for a comfortable shirt. A pleasant knock rattles my room.

“It’s Kyun”, Changkyun announces.

“Come in”, I welcome. He opens the door to reveal him leaning against the door frame, being suave.

“I’m sorry to hear about that guy”, he initiates a conversation.

Are you?”, I tease. He’s acting too smug to be sympathetic.

“Don’t believe me?”, he chuckles, but acts offended. Not at all.

“Nope”, I shake my head. He shrugs.

“Good”, he devilishly grins before leaving my room. What the fuck is that supposed to mean? I need to talk to his boy.

“Kyun”, I call for him. He peeks his head in, keeping the smirk on his lips. I gesture to him to come back. He sneaks back inside, trying to be discreet.

“You’re glad I’m not seeing that guy, huh?”, I question. He knows the teasing game I’m playing and is loving every bit of it.

“I am”, he confirms.

“How come?”, I continue.

“That way you can find someone better”, his voice deepens, examining me with his eyes. Oh, he thinks he could be someone? Let’s see.

“Someone better?”, I squint. Oh fuck it. I glide my fingers along his thighs. Changkyun’s eyes widened, not expecting me to touch him.

“Someone who would give me a good time?”, I continue. My fingers get to the crotch of his pants. He’s already getting hard.

“Yes”, he inhales sharply, trying to keep his cool.

“I wonder who would be the man”, I bite my lip before palming him through his jeans, getting him hard in my hand. He closes his eyes to keep his composure.

“I could ask the boys. I’m sure any of them would be happy to show me”, I whisper. A low growl leaves his lips, his dick fully erect. I slip my hand under his boxerbriefs, feeling his warm, hard dick in my grasp. My strokes are slow and tight. The rumors of big dick energy was fucking true.

“Like Honey, or Minhyuk”, I spitball. A soft moan escapes his lips. He’s putty in my hands. I might come off collected, but inside I’m ready to pass out.

“No”, he whimpers. I got him where I want him.

“Oh, not them?”, I pout my lips.

“Maybe Hyungwon. I think he’s been eye fucking me tonight”, I accidentally slip out. I definitely struck a nerve in Changkyun. Why am I teasing him? Why am I touching him! Have I been so deprived of a good fuck that I’ll resort to a good friend? I don’t see him complaining.

“Guys, the movie is almost ready!”, Kihyun shouts from the living room.

“Coming!”, I shout back. Taking my hand out of Changkyun’s pants, I grab some throw blankets from my bed.

“Just like what you’ll be doing under this blanket”, I whisper. I hate myself for making that joke.

“Please stay”, he whimpers, stopping me from leaving the room.

“If you stay quiet, it’ll be worth it. I’ll make it worth your while”, I propose.

“Like how?”, he eagerly pants.

“I’ll take you back here and ride you soon as possible”, I wink. He curls his tongue at the corner of his mouth. One hand grabs my ass, pulling me closer to him. His hand feels almost too good, kneading my plump cheek. I'm definitely not the first ass he's grabbed, man knows what to do.

“But first, something for you”, he snarls before slipping his hands underneath my leggings. His fingers play with my panties. His index finger drags along my clothed slit. Instead of an electric shock, my body pulses. How could I be already desperate for more? If the boys weren't out in the living room, I would have been bent over against the bed, loving every inch of Kyun.

“You’re already so wet for me”, Changkyun chuckles. My face burns red. I didn’t realize he’s a fucking switch. He pulls the crotch of my panties aside and massages two fingers along my folds. Fuck him for turning the tables! I grip onto the blankets, I want to say something, but all I could let out is a mousy moan.

“You’re so horny, it’s cute”, he teases before pumping the digits into me. I hide my face into the blankets.

“No, no, I want to see you”, his voice raises an octave. I lift my head back from the blankets and cheeky, cocky Changkyun is loving this moment of my vulnerability. With pumps and curling of his fingers, I’m losing myself to his hand. What happened to him? I'm loving this almost too much.

“You think you can tease me without getting something in return? Not with me, baby”, he tilts his head. Him putting me in my place making me weaker. I grab his face and pull him into a kiss. I moan into his lips. His tongue invites itself into my mouth. So delicious, I could do this forever. If his tongue and lips are this good, I wonder what his dick is like.

Changkyun gasps before pulling out.

“I’ll fuck your hand under that blanket then we’re going to go in here and I’ll fuck you till you can’t walk”, he whispers before kissing my cheek. He licks the digits in front of me, loving my taste.

“I’ll be quiet”, he winks before leaving my room. We’ll see. What the fuck did I do! I touched my good friend’s dick, kissed him, and promised to fuck him! Have I wanted to do this before? I guess. He’s an attractive man, how could I not notice him? How long have I felt like this? Do I even like him like that or do I just want to fuck? I’m overwhelming myself. I go back to the living room, the boys have cleared the coffee table, bless them. The boys are in the kitchen chatting in Korean while I lay out some blankets and pillows. Although I moved to Korea, I’m still not an expert on the language, I’m far better at reading. What if he’s talking about what happened in the bedroom? I don’t think he would. He wouldn’t dare. Kihyun sweetly hands me a glass of water.

“Are you ok?”, Kihyun tilts his head.

“What do you mean?”, I nervously laugh. I take a big gulp of the water. Kihyun’s warm palms press my cheek.

“You’re warm. Are you feeling alright?”, his voice goes from curious to concern. I must be touch starved. His caress feels...gentle. I could see myself escape in just his palm’s embrace. I must be in a rush. I shouldn’t be feeling this way for a friend.

“Do you need help?”, Kihyun whispers. I need to stop!

“Am I a bad person, Kiki?”, I mumble. He scoffs. His thumb rubs my cheekbone.

“I shouldn’t have to answer that”, Kihyun smiles.

“Sarah, is there something going on? You can talk to me”, he grows worried. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“It’s fine, Kihyun”, I assure. Am I trying to convince myself this is ok?

“I trust you. If something comes up, please tell me”, he sighs. I scrunch my nose. Kihyun kisses the tip of my nose.

“I’m coming over tomorrow to cook something with you”, Kihyun plans. That was always one of our favorite activities together, showing each other something new.

The boys rush in with candy and various snacks with drinks. Even though we just ate, you always get snacks for movies. They load up the movie, a poorly rated scary movie, one of my favorites. Damn, these boys have really paid attention to me over the months I’ve been here. Wait, I’ve been here for almost a year! A year just after my birthday. We got close over the year. I feel so dirty, having these feelings for them. Are these actually feelings?

We all get comfy on the couch and floor. Changkyun and I sit on the couch with a blanket draped over us. Changkyun can’t stop smiling at me. He puts his arm over my shoulders, leaning in close to me. I keep my hands together.

“I really want to kiss you”, he whispers, before kissing my cheek. My skin is crawling from nerves. Changkyun notices.

“You don’t have to do it. We could do that later or we could just forget about it”, he worries.

“Kyun, I’m fine, just nervous”, I breathe shakily. Am I realizing what I’m doing is wrong? Is this wrong? These are just butterflies.

“I won’t force you to do anything”, he continues. Holy shit, do I actually like Kyun? I’m getting all blushy just thinking about it. I unravel my hands and test the waters by gesturing the motion under the blanket. This can’t do. 

“Sit the way you do”, I whisper. Changkyun does his little embarrassed smile and fixes his sitting position. He crosses his ankles and keeps his knees up. I practice the motion again, undetectable.

“I really, really want to kiss you”, he mumbles in my ear. His lips graze the curve of my ear. His voice is raspier than before. Fuck. I shift in my seat, getting comfortable from my wet panties. The room goes quiet when the movie plays the opening credits.

“If you don’t stop that, you won’t get anything”, I exhale. I slip my hand under Changkyun’s boxerbriefs and stroke his length.

“I know you want to kiss me too”, he smirks. There’s already some precum oozing from his dick.

“I want to see what that mouth of yours can do”, he whimpers. I squeeze firmly on his shaft.

“You think I could put my mouth to work?”, I sneak a kiss on his ear.

“Fuck”, he exhales, a little too loud. I tug on his pants and free his dick, bouncing against his pelvis. I let out a very mousy, internal scream. His dick is better than I could hope for. Feel could only tell so much. I spit in my hand and rub his dick in a rhythmic pattern.

“I see you drooling”, he teases, pretending to wipe slobber off my lip. He rubs his thumb on my chin. His sharp eyes pierce my heart. Have I never looked at his face long enough to fall in a trance? The shape of his nose, the little curls on either side of his smile, the depth in the darkness of his pupils, the way his hair falls just before his eyes. All of it, every detail. I feel like I’m admiring a painting. A painting that I can touch and that can touch me. How is this the most beautiful painting I’ve encountered even when I went to art school?

“Don’t do it”, I mouth. He might think I’m telling him not to kiss me, but I’m really telling myself not to kiss him first. My pace quickens, matching my heartbeat. Changkyun inhales hazily. He’s getting close. What I would give to hear him scream my name.

“Watch the movie”, I mouth. We sit “peacefully” watching the movie. Changkyun bucks his hips, trying to thrust into my hand. He knocks his head back, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath in. I just want to hop on top of him. A delicate whimper is trapped in his throat. Strings of warm, slick cum land on my wrist and hand.

“You did so good, baby”, he praises, his head still knocked back. I nudge his chest to get his attention. He opens one eye. I give direct eye contact as I lick my hand clean. His cum tastes yummy. His lip curls with a smile. I stuff Changkyun’s dick back into his pants.

“My room. Now”, I growl. I peel myself off of the couch and sneak to my room.

I’m shaking. My legs are weak, my heart is in my throat, I can’t unclench my hands. I can’t do this, I can’t. I plop on my bed, curled up in a ball, facing my window.

Changkyun opens my bedroom door.

“Sarah”, he whispers. I groan.

“Is there something wrong?”, he worries. I sit up and wrap myself in my large, fluffy comforter.

“Do you actually want me?”, I hide. He sits on my bed, wrapping his arms around my cocoon.

“Of course I do”, he scoffs. He kisses my head. I unwrap myself and straddle his lap. I squish his face to make a funny puckered face.

“Is it just sex?”, I mumble. He grabs my hand and kisses my palm. With no words, we knew. Changkyun strips me out of both my sweatshirt and t-shirt. He doesn’t break eye contact with me, even though my tits are inches away. I strip him out of his shirt, trying so hard not to go crazy. He scoots to slip his pants down enough to free his dick. My hands rub his shoulders and chest. Weird, his heartbeat isn’t that intense. He pulls my leggings down with my panties, exposing my ass. A playful smack claps my cheek, making me smile. Holding me by my waist, he lays me on my back to take off the rest of my clothes. I caress his cheek, poking his dimple that is making a pleasant appearance. I go back to sitting on his lap. The head of his dick lined up to my entrance.

“Wait”, Changkyun halts. I give him my full attention.

“I wanted this for a long time, not just the sex. I wanted to kiss you and touch you, but it’s more than that. I wanted to feel intimacy with you, make you feel as special as you are. I love being open and free with you, my best friend. I wish I could stay in this room with you forever”, Changkyun rambles. I feel like I want to vomit. Am I going to cry? Am I going to run? Is this a confession without using the three big words? I press my forehead against his, taking a deep breath.

“Changkyun, you are an angel and a demon, you know that? I wanted this too, probably more than I would want to believe. I could stay in this room forever, only if you’d take me”, I admit. My lips peck his lips, his cheek, his neck. I pull his hair a little to knock his head back. A hiss rattles my ear. I leave marks of sucks and nibbles behind his ear, corner of his jawline, under his chin, curve of his neck, Adam's apple, and collarbone. In that order. Soft, deep moans from Changkyun get louder and louder the longer I mark. I sink myself onto him. I cry out from the stretch.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so tight”, he exhales in ecstacy. I bottom out and I sit for a moment, engulfing every inch of him. Fuck. I lift myself to his tip, then sink back down. I hold onto his shoulders, for balance. I roll my hips, his dick hitting the right spot.

“Would you believe me if I tell you I never rode dick?”, I nervously laugh.

“No way”, Changkyun gulps.

“You know I can’t lie”, I gasp when he hits the spot. He holds my waist to guide me of rocking and bouncing. His dick feels so good I want to cry.

Changkyun lifts me off and throws me to the center of the bed. Throwing my legs over his shoulders, he slams into me. I grab onto his back to pull him closer to me. My nails dig deeper into his back with every thrust. He looks down to see his dick bury inside me. I can’t help myself from looking too. The sight is making my stomach flex.

“Shit, baby. I could do this all day”, he moans. Fuck, if I could have this as a ringtone, I would. The sound of his throbbing dick colliding into my drenched pussy, the slapping of our thighs, his deep sensual moans as well as vulgar. All of it.

“You like looking at us?”, my voice shakes.

“I love it”, he assures, kissing my forehead. His pace quickens. My limbs are visibly shaking. My vision is blurring. My toes can't be more curled.

“Kyun, I-I”, I stutter. My pussy is pulsing, clenching as I speak.

“Talk it out, baby”, he encourages. The knot in my stomach is almost unbearably tight.

“I’m going to cum”, I whimper. He uses all of his strength hammering into me, his face buried into my neck, biting hard. I shed a single tear while I cum. Cumming like this almost felt new to me. What if I never actually had an orgasm and this is the first time! Changkyun lets out a cocky laugh. He still thrusts into me, just painfully slow so I can collect myself.

“You’re so cute when you cum”, he praises, kissing my lips.

“Not as cute as you”, I caress his cheek. He presses his forehead against mine.

“Na-uh. You do a cute little thing with your nose”, he chuckles. He brushes the hair out of my face, wipes sweat off my eyebrow. I could see Changkyun mouth something, but I couldn’t interpret what. He kisses the tip of my nose. He pulls out and lays next to me, holding my hand.

“I forgot the guys are in the living room”, he whispers. Oh shit. The boys, how would I face them? I’m a fucking mess!

“I’m scared, what do I do?”, I panic. He sits up and massages my thighs. Taking a deep breath, he ponders.

“Jump in the shower and relax for a minute. I’ll tell the guys you weren’t feeling good”, he organizes.

“What are you going to say if they ask why?”, I wonder, scooting off of my bed.

“I’ll tell them you got a headache from work today, which happened before”, he shrugs. Foolproof? Maybe, these boys are adorable idiots, but they’re not dumb.

“Too bad you couldn’t join me in the shower”, I pout.

“Next time, babygirl”, he winks, kissing my palms. I stand from my bed and I almost fall on my face. Changkyun couldn’t stop laughing from seeing me struggle to walk.

“I did say I was going to fuck you till you can’t walk”, he pokes fun, escorting me to the bathroom attached to my bedroom. He sits me down on the toilet while he starts the shower. I see the marks I left on him. Fuck, I went hard.

"Baby, I went a little crazy on the marks. I have some powder in my makeup bag", I point to the bag on the corner of the counter. He examines the damage in the mirror, getting a little hot and bothered.

"You sure went crazy", he comments, eyeballing me in the mirror.

"Changkyun", I sigh. He kneels in front of me, holding my hands.

"What's going to happen after this?", I whisper.

"Till I know more about the possibility of dating from Starship, I would like for us to be friends with benefits", he reveals, unfiltered. Dating? He's willing to date me!

"If being friends with benefits is alright with you", he asks for confirmation. Honestly, I'm glad it's just something. I couldn't find the words so I just bashfully nod. He kisses my cheek and helps me into the shower.

"I'll lay out some clothes for you and set it on your bed", Changkyun gestures to my bedroom. I blow him a kiss. He leaves my bathroom with a little swagger in his step.

Not only did I jerk off a friend in front of our group, he fucks me in my bedroom just feet away from them. What did I get myself into. This isn't just me being touched starved. This is more than attraction. Would I be willing to date Changkyun? It's hard to say. I could never let myself hold him back on anything, any of them really. Putting stress on them is the last thing I'd want, especially after everything that happened late last year. I also don't want to hold them back on finding someone better. I hear ruckus happening in the living room. Dear God, if he told them….wait, why would I be afraid? We're adults, we can fuck whoever. I'm not ashamed on what I did, if anything, just a little embarrassed that it happened while the guys were in the other room, but definitely not ashamed. I should just tell them.

I get out of the shower and put on my robe. Changkyun did lay out some clothes for me, what a sweetheart. He even threw my dirty clothes in the hamper? I love that man, can he just marry me?

I try to eavesdrop on the boys while I get dressed. Fuck, not surprised they're chatting in Korean. There's a knock on my door.

"I'm getting dressed, just a second!", I alert.

"It's Honey", Jooheon announces. I quickly finish getting dressed and jump in bed, spread eagle, faced down.

“Come in”, I groan, trying so hard to come off ill. The door opens and Jooheon wolf whistles at me.

"Little mouse, are you ok?", Jooheon soothes vocally. I wiggle in my bed. He giggles before sitting on the edge of my bed. His laugh can cure disease, I swear.

"What happened at work, jajiya?", he baby talks. I hear a tap of glass on my nightstand. Honey brought me something to drink? How could this man be so damn precious to me?

“Got overwhelmed with discussions on my project”, I sigh. I wasn’t lying. Projects are piling and there’s one in particular that is my priority, one that I’ve worked a long time to earn, and with insecurities, I worry that I will be pulled from the project any minute.

“Can I lay with you?”, his voice goes softer. I scoot to give him room. He climbs on my bed and lays on top of me, holding me like a koala. Thank goodness his body is pushing me down, I can completely hide my blushing face. I feel his dick pressed against my ass. I know he was wearing sweatpants, but I didn’t expect him to feel so...open. He tickles my waist to get me to smile. I’m definitely not as ticklish as some of the boys. I wiggle under Honey, trying to escape. The laughs fade.

“You are an incredible woman”, he whispers. He kisses my head.

“I’m sorry you had a shitty day. Let’s just forget about it right now”, he comforts. He brushes the hair out of my face, pressing his lips on my cheek. His body is warm, a good warm.

“Sarah?”, he hums, rubbing his thumb on my jawline. I accidentally arch my back as I lift my head up, nesting my head in the nook of his neck. A small hiss leaves his mouth. I unconsciously open my legs, having him fall in between. His dick is pressed on my pulsing, already sore pussy. I twist myself so I can kiss his cheek. What the fuck am I doing?

“I-I”, Jooheon stumbles. He instinctively rolls his hips. Fuck...me…

“Honey”, I inhale, stretching to kiss his neck and the back of his ear. I bump my ass to grind on him. His hands hold onto my hips as he pushes himself harder onto me, getting more and more erect. He’s right there. Take off my pants, please. Please. The longer he rolls, the more I want him. How could I be feeling this way? He kisses my neck with his luscious lips.

“Don’t stop”, I breathe in his ear.

“But Sarah”, he whimpers.

“I won’t tell if you won’t”, I add. I feel a smile form on his face.

[mego42]

i totally agree with you about annie and rio being bi, so i thought if you wanted to, maybe you could write a fic about them talking about their common experience. i would love more sibling in law camaraderie! but i feel like the only way rio could truly be that vulnerable is if he were high. would love to read about them high together! thank you in advance! #highwhilebi

Oh my god, anon, I wish you could have seen my face when this came in because yes.

I hope you don’t mind, but I’m taking this as an opportunity to also write a little something for @nickmillerscaulk because she is the actual best and it’s literally the least I can do to say thank you.

I hope you both enjoy 💖

--

“Where’s your sister?”

Rio straight up, like, materializes in the kitchen, startling the fuck out of Annie and making her drop the chip bowl she’s refilling. 

“Jesus, fuck,” she says, scooping a handful of potato chips off the floor. Five-second rule, right? Besides, Beth keeps the floors clean enough to eat off of. Literally. “You should wear a bell.”

He doesn’t answer and for a second Annie thinks—hopes?—maybe he’s disappeared as silently as he appeared. But, when she looks up he’s still there, staring at her and the floor chips, clearly horrified. 

Feeling thoroughly judged, Annie belligerently pops a chip in her mouth, gratified when his look of horror intensifies.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, chewing noisily just to be obnoxious and tossing the rest of the handful in the trash. Yeah, fine, it’s gross.  

“Where’s your sister?” Rio asks again, ignoring her question. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Annie retorts, grabbing some salsa out of the fridge. 

She realizes that it’s probably unwise to taunt the crimelord in her sister’s kitchen, but it’s not like anyone would ever accuse her of being wise. Which is kind of annoying, actually, because she is in many ways, but it goes unappreciated. 

Besides, it’s not like he’s going to do anything to her. She likes to think it’s because in the past year since he and Beth have stopped actively trying to kill each other, Annie and Rio have become...not friends, but cordial enough that she hopes killing her would at least be awkward. 

Except, she’s not stupid. He runs a gang for Pete’s sake, awkwardness is not a barrier to him, you know, taking care of business. The real reason Annie’s relatively sure he isn’t going to do anything to her is Beth. Annie’s perfectly safe as long as he wants to keep doing whatever it is he’s doing with her sister. 

It gives her the shivers, honestly. She can’t believe Beth—Beth—is into it, him. The whole situation is so weird. 

Annie gathers up her snacks and supplies and heads back to the couch and TV, dumping it all on the ottoman Judith had sent over ages ago that’s still serving as a makeshift coffee table. Beth had finally started replacing her furniture—that Rio stole. And that’s another thing, they have the weirdest foreplay Annie’s ever seen, and that’s saying something given some of the people she’s hooked up with—but was doing it slowly. 

The couch was one of the first big pieces she’d bought before even a bed. Which is another weird thing, actually, given that Beth’s finally getting some on the regular. You’d think she’d want someplace more comfortable than an air mattress to—

Annie sits bolt upright, feet flying off the ottoman, nearly upending the salsa and chip bowl. Oh god, is this their sex couch?

Her eyes fly to Rio, still hovering like an awkward lurker by the kitchen door, glaring like it’s somehow Annie’s fault that Beth’s not here. Which is rich, him holding anything against her, when she’s the one over here sitting on the sex couch. 

Oh, fuck it, she thinks, dropping back onto the cushions. It’s not the grossest thing she’s ever sat on by a mile. 

“I don’t know when she’ll be back, she ran out to help Ruby with some church play costume emergency,” Annie relents, fishing around for the remote. “I can tell her you came by, or you can hang out, whatever, just stop hovering. It’s creepy.”

She crows, triumphant when she retrieves the remote, but it ends in a squeak as he sits down on the other end of the couch. She’d invited him to stay because that’s what people do, she didn’t think he’d take her up on it. 

But, okay, sure, he’s here. The scary-ass gang banger her sister’s boning until the cow’s come home is chillin’ with Annie on an ugly ass floral couch Beth picked up at the ReStore, thumbing through his phone like this is all perfectly fine and normal. 

Annie never wanted her life to be predictable, but this is a left turn she never saw coming. 

Shrugging to herself, Annie hits play and dips a chip into the salsa. Nothing left to do but lean into it, apparently. 

“M’watching Shitt’s Creek, by the way,” she says around a mouthful of salt and tomatoes, bizarrely satisfied when he looks over at her with a pained expression. “It’s about this family—”

“Yeah, I fuck with it,” he says, looking back at his phone as he casually upends Annie’s mental picture of him and what he’s into like it’s nothing. 

“You do not,” she says, crunching down on another chip for strength. 

“What?” His eyes flick over to her. “It’s good shit.”

“I know that,” she says. “It just doesn’t seem like, you know.” She waves in his general vicinity. “Your thing.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, going back to his phone. “What’s that sayin’ ‘bout judgin’ books by their covers?”

Which, ouch. Annie doesn’t judge. Okay, so she judges but not like that. She knows better than anyone how deceiving appearances can be. 

She digs around in her purse for her bowl and her weed. The whole situation is way too surreal for sobriety without being called out for being shallow and judgmental by her sister’s crime husband. 

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything when she pulls out her pipe. Not until she packs it and pulls out her lighter. 

“You sure you should be doin’ that in here?” he asks, which is just—no.

“Okay, first of all,” she starts, waving a hand in his face. “I don’t care what you guys get up to, you do not get to tell me what to do in my sister’s house. Ask Deansie how that worked out for him.”

He smirks a little, and Annie can’t help grinning back. What can she say? Deansie sucks ass, and she appreciates anyone who recognizes that. 

“Second,” she continues, calmer now. “He’s got the kids for the week, so there’s plenty of time for the smell to dissipate. I brought a candle.”

“Besides—” Now it’s her turn to smirk. “It’s not like there’s all that much furniture to absorb the smell.”

Rio laughs at that, bobbing his head in acknowledgment of her point, and Annie squirms a little, pleased at his approval and annoyed that she’s pleased. 

“Now shut up and let me watch my show.”

She hits the bowl a few times, loving the warm, loose feeling that spreads in her head. It’s too bad Beth won’t smoke with her, it’d do wonders for that stick in her ass. Though, who knows, maybe she likes the stick. Beth’s a total fucking mystery to her these days. 

Annie laughs a little to herself, and Rio looks over, curious. 

“Want some?” She asks, offering him the bowl and lighter. She isn’t expecting him to take her up on it. If nothing else, he seems more like a joints or blunts than glass kind of guy. But she is apparently entirely shit at predicting anything about him because he takes it from her and lights up, smooth and easy like he’s had plenty of practice. 

They smoke in silence for a bit, passing the bowl back and forth until it’s tapped, and Annie’s feeling pretty warm and fuzzy. She grabs the chips and salsa, moving them to the couch between them for easier reach before snuggling back into the cushions. She nudges the potato chip bowl at him, dipping one into the salsa and popping it in her mouth. 

“What?” She asks at the look he gives her. “It’s good. People act like you can only dip tortilla chips in salsa, but really they just lack vision.”

He shrugs and grabs a chip. The satisfied hum he lets out when he tries it makes Annie downright giddy after all of the shit Beth and Ruby give her over her weird condiment and food combos. 

“You know what else is good?” She asks, recognizing a kindred spirit and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Syrup on potatoes.”

He dunks another chip and chews slowly as he considers her insight. 

“Yeah, I could see it,” he says after a long moment. 

“My man!” Annie shouts, throwing up a hand for a high five and nearly upending the snacks. 

He laughs, and for a second, Annie thinks he’s going to leave her hanging which, unsurprising but a little disappointing, she can’t lie. But then he raises a hand and taps it to hers. 

It’s probably the weed, but it feels like she won something and makes her absurdly happy. She turns back to the tv, smiling a little wider when she sees Rio pocket his phone and settle back out of the corner of her eye. 

They watch a few episodes mostly in companionable silence, sharing the chips and occasionally cracking up, and it’s...weirdly nice? Like hanging out with a friend which is a total mind fuck to be entirely honest. 

She doesn’t know if it’s the weed or the weird level of comfortable they’ve inexplicably achieved, but he must be feeling it too. It’s the only possible explanation for what happens next. 

“Gooood,” Annie groans, slouching down a little on the couch and pressing a throw pillow over her face.

“Hmmm?” Rio’s pretty boneless himself, the second rotation seems to have done the trick.

“I just, I can’t even look at them,” she says, waving a hand towards the screen where Ted and Alexis are having a moment. “It’s too much concentrated hotness.”

She flings the pillow away, realizing after she let go that she’d more or less thrown it straight at his head, but he lazily bats it down on his lap, so that’s fine then.

“You ever have that? That thing where someone is just like, too hot, and it ruins your life a little?” Not waiting for an answer, Annie studies the tv. “Alexis more than Ted for sure, but I would gladly bone down with either of them in a heartbeat. Fuck, I forgot how horny weed makes me.”

It’s like her brain catches up with her mouth all at once, and she freezes, replaying everything that’s just come out of her mouth.

“Okay, for the record, I know how that sounded, and I was not hitting on you,” she says, staring straight ahead and blushing so hard it feels like her entire face is on fire. “I want to be extremely clear on that.”

She hears this sort of wheezing sound and seriously wonders for a second if she just freaked out so hard she burst something. But when she darts a glance to the side, she sees Rio’s got a hand over his face, shoulders shaking, and she realizes the wheezing noise is him. Laughing at her.

Like, really laughing. Nearly helpless with it, honestly.

It’s so unexpected, so different from how she’s ever seen him, it snaps her all the way out of her embarrassment. She literally feels her jaw drop, which is something she always kind of thought only happened in like, tv shows. 

And he just keeps laughing, it’s like once he started, he can’t stop. After a minute, Annie shrugs and goes back to watching the show, helping herself to more chips and trying to remember if she’d seen any of those mini pizzas in the freezer. 

Eventually, Rio calms down, dropping his hand, and Annie glances over, attention caught by the movement, and he’s smiling at her kind of fond and shit, which is weird but also weirdly nice? She feels like she could get used to him liking her. Maybe even like him back a little. He’s pretty chill when he’s not like, threatening people with guns and death and stuff.

He’s got good taste in tv, anyway. Snacks too.

“So, Ted and Alexis, huh?” he asks and, right. What with the unexpected giggle fit she forgot she kind of came out to him. 

“Yeah, you know,” Annie gestures at the screen, a little apprehensive. It’s been so long since she’s explained her sexuality to anyone. She’s totally chill with it, but she forgot that squirmy little edge that comes with saying it out loud no matter how little she cares what the other person thinks of her. “I like the wine, not the label.”

But Rio just nods, like it’s a foregone conclusion. “Yeah, I figured that part, I meant that’s what does it for you?”

“I mean, not that it’s any of your business,” Annie says, electing to ignore the fact that she started this. “But yes—wait, what do you mean you figured?”

“The jumpsuits and shit,��� he says, frowning like it’s obvious. 

Which like, yeah, she dresses to advertise sometimes, but the assumption gets under her skin. 

“That’s ridiculous,” she shoots back. “How would you like it if I just, you know, called you out for your gigantic bisexual nose piercing?”

He’s smiling at her again, that sort of fond, sort of amused, sort of I-know-something-that-you-don’t smile that’s really fucking obnoxious, to be honest. She absolutely zero percent understands Beth’s thing with him, he’s so—and then the other shoe drops.

“Oh my god, wait, you’re…?” Annie trails off, not wanting to assume a label.

“Yeah, I guess I—” Rio pauses and squints at her like he’s trying to decide something. “I like a few different types of wine.”

“No shit,” Annie breathes. “Does Beth know?”

Not that it would matter to Beth, obviously, Annie just really loves the idea of knowing something about her sister’s boyfr—no, fuck buddy? Please, like Beth would have anything that crass, she probably thinks of him as her lover, the nerd—that Beth doesn’t. 

Rio just looks at her though, eyebrow raised and fine; apparently boundaries are still a thing. Or so he thinks, he doesn’t know how persistent she can be yet.

“Whatever,” she says, putting the chips and salsa back on the ottoman before turning full body towards him, tucking a foot up on the couch and plopping the remaining throw pillow in her lap to lean on. “So, do you feel me on Ted and Alexis? Who’s your type?”

He huffs a laugh, closing his eyes and scrubbing a hand over his face like he’s already regretting saying anything. 

“Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me, tell meeeeee,” Annie whines, nudging him in the leg with her toe. “You might as well get it over with, I’m not going to stop.”

“I like—” Rio cracks an eye at her, looking her up and down, and Annie does her best to look trustworthy and supportive. “Patrick.”

Annie’s jaw drops, again. “Darkhorse pick, man! I did not see that coming.” 

His shoulders bunch up, and he starts to sit up, so Annie thumps him with the pillow until he settles back down. “No, no, it’s great, I love it.”

She stops, cocking her head and studying him. “That actually makes a bizarre amount of sense. He’s got that same bouncy, wholesome, fuck-with-my-people-and-I-will-end-you-but-politely vibe as my sister, now that I think about it.”

Rio frowns like that’s something he hadn’t considered before, and Annie’s absurdly pleased to have upended his mental equilibrium this time. 

“Damn, gang friend,” she says, grinning wide. “I think we’re having a moment. I will be honest, I did not see this coming.”

He laughs again, sort of reluctant like he doesn’t want to, but Annie can see a little bit of a genuine smile teasing around the edges of his mouth. 

“Admit it,” she says, poking him with her toe again. “You like me.”

He rolls his eyes, dropping his head on the back of the couch and looking at her. “Don’t push it, yeah?”

“Fine, fine,” she says, turning back to face the tv. “I’ll let it go for now.”

They watch in silence for a minute before Annie gets an idea and has to forcibly tamp down on her grin. She starts to hum a little under her breath, getting a little louder when she sees him look at her out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re simply the best,” she sings, collapsing into giggles when he smacks her with the pillow she’d flung at him earlier.

***

“What the hell happened here?” 

Annie nearly kicks the plate of crumbs—the only evidence of the mini pizza feast she’d made them—off the ottoman as she startles awake to find Beth standing in front of the couch, hands on her hips. 

Her face is flickering as she tries to look stern but clearly wants to smile, and Annie realizes she’d passed out with her face against Rio’s shoulder and—oh god, she’d been drooling on it. 

She shoves off of him abruptly, wiping her chin and sticking her tongue out at him when he grins at her.

“Nothing,” Anie says, opening and closing her mouth like it will help clear the moss that’s grown all over it while she slept. “Just watching tv.”

“Oh yeah? You’re friends now?” Beth asks, failing to hide the hopeful lilt to her voice like they’ve given her a birthday present or some shit.

“Yeah, I mean, what can I say?” Annie glances at Rio with a shrug. “He’s better than all the rest.”

She cracks up all over again when he pushes her off the couch. 

[demivampirew]

Keep Calm and Go to London chapter 29

Previous Chapters in the masterlist

Triggers: Panic attack; anxiety; crying.

Tag list:  Here’s the incredible people who   showed me support (thank  you    so  much for that) and people who  asked  me to tag them too  ☺️   (I   think  I will write a few chapters  of  this story, if you want me to tag     you, tell me ☺️   ) @cavillanche @mary-ann84 @henry-owns-these-tatas @yespolkadotkitty @dancingwendigo   constip8merm8       penwieldingdreamer iloveyouyen  littlefreya  wondersofdreaming      alyxkbrl solariumss  sweetybuzz25 @thethirstyarchive @agniavateira   @honeyloverogers @hell1129-blog   @lunedelorient​  @michelle-1185​  @madbaddic7ed​     @summersong69​ @kaatelyyynn​

The sweet melody force Henry to wake up. The combination of an angelic voice and piano wasn't something he wanted to miss. As he approached the living room, he saw you playing the keyboards while singing some beautiful lyrics. He leaned against the wall to listen to the delightful tune without distracting you.

You're all I need my one belief the winds of time will carry me to live without dubiety don't let this ever end

We've flow afar beyond the sea to find each other finally we've waited long and patiently to build a bridge between dualities.

Shivers ran through his body, the combination of your voice, the soft instrumental and the lovely lyrics gave him chills. You were writing the final lyrics of your new song when you finally noticed him.

- Sorry, babe, did I wake you up? - you apologized. - Yep, but it doesn't matter. That's the greatest way of waking up.-he replied, grinning. His lips felt dry as he gave you a tender good morning kiss. - I have to give you a lip balm.- you said playfully and he laughed.

As you made kissing sounds and called his name, Kal appeared from the kitchen, where he was bitting  a bone- and went straight to Henry. As you did for his birthday, you put a little surprise for Henry in the doggy's collar. He kneeled on the floor and then took the tiny gift bag and inside of it, there was a silver locket that contained two photos: one was Kal and the other was a picture of you. The gift also included a little card: "Happy Father's day, daddy! Love, Kal." A huge smile appeared on his face.

- I love it, Kal, thank you!- he exclaimed while petting his furry son. Then, he lifted his head and looked at you with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, "Thanks, baby" he added. - It was Kal's idea. He's even so egocentric that he put himself as well.- you joked referring to the fact that your picture was there with the Akita. Seeing and heard him laugh was among you're favourite things on the entire world. If he was happy, you could feel the sunshine hit you no matter the time of the day, the season or the weather. As Taylor's song says " I see sparks fly whenever you smile".

Later that day, you called your dad to congratulate him on his day. Henry had his own zoom family reunion for Father's Day. It wasn't a lie that you couldn't be there because you were going to phone your old man, but there was also the anxiety of intruding in something private. It didn't matter how in love you were with each other, you felt that 4 months of dating wasn't enough time together to be part of those special moments, especially after his birthday. Due to the pandemic and the fact that his family lived far away from him, you haven't had the chance to meet them yet, at least personally, so you felt that they might felt curious and ask questions and it'd seem that you were stealing their thunder. Today was all about his dad and his brothers. Despite avoiding the Cavill online hang out, you made sure to salute them on father's day. You sent a direct message to Charlie, the only member of your boyfriend's family you had the chance to talk several times when he and Henry video-called and you had a good relationship with. You included him and the rest of them in your Father's Day post on Instagram as well as pleading Henry to deliver your best wishes. Your day couldn't be better, you felt. While you scrolled through Instagram, giving likes to your friend's post delivering sweet thankful words to their dads, partners, etc a notification let you know that Henry posted as well. After going to his account, a bright smile appeared on your face as you saw the photo he posted. It was a photo from his childhood; in it, he was standing next to his brothers and his father. He was leaning against his younger sibling with the rest standing behind them with the Cavill Senior besides his sons. Only one of the children wasn't smiling and had a "bad boy" face, it was Simon. So, except for the young man, all had happy gestures, specially Henry who looked cheerful. The picture seemed to be from a wedding or a similar event giving the fact that they all were wearing suits. Underneath said portrait, your British man dedicated a few words to his family: "In this here photo only one of the Cavill men was a father. Now.... a few years later, only one isn't! Happy Father's Day to you, my incredible father, and to you my awesome brothers! Legends to a man.Also, for those that don't know, this is how we dress in England all the time.#FathersDay" All the joy you were feeling before vanished instantly. Now anxiety had fully taken over your emotions and air couldn't get inside your body. You ran into the kitchen and grabbed a bag to breathe in. You went into the house's main bathroom to hide from Henry so he wouldn't find out that you were having a panic attack. The rolled down your eyes and you felt as if needles were being sticked to your heart. "In this here photo only one of the Cavill men was a father. Now.... a few years later, only one isn't! " "..., only one isn't! " the words kept repeating inside your mind and you could even hear his voice. When Henry told you that whatever was your decision about having kids, he wanted to remain by your side, it made you extremely happy to know that you'll never lose him, but in the same time, you felt even more anxiety than before. One thing was to know that you could lose him in the future for not wanting the same thing, but there was the upside that he'd someday make his dream come true; another thing was for you to take away the possibility of being a dad because he loved you enough to give up his longtime desire of having kids. What if someday he regretted his desition? Would he blamed you for not doing the right thing and set him free? Will breaking up with him be the right decision? There was always a chance that if you felt that couldn't have kids in the near future, that it could happen in a distant future. You could always adopt or freeze your eggs so you could find a surrogate in your body wasn't in conditions to carry a child.

-Baby, you want to watch a movie?- Henry asked you as he knocked on the bathroom's door. You had been there for almost an hour, burning your poor brain with all those existential questions. You took a deep breath as you wiped your tears. - Yeah, babe. I'll be there in a minute.- you replied making an extra effort for him not to noticed that you'd been crying. - Ok, I'll make popcorn in the meantime.- he said and left. You stood up and faced the mirror. After washing your face, you made sure there were no trails of your tears. After sitting on the couch, you tried hard to focus on choosing a movie. You ended selecting a horror movie called "The Ritual". A big bowl of popcorn rested on your boyfriend's lap as you watched the movie. As much as you tried to pay attention to the movie, you barely understood what was going on since your brain would repeat his words and the questions you made to yourself before. You took deep breaths to avoid having another panic attack and break into tears. As the movie was reaching its climax, your man paused the movie. It took you a moment to notice it and to see that he was starring at you. - Are you ok, princess? - he questioned worried. You faced him, smiling and nodding; of course you couldn't speak because otherwise the lump in your throat would give you away. He inspected your face.- Are you sure? You can tell me if something's wrong, do you know that, right?- he pointed out and you nodded again, hoping he'll quit the interrogation and play the movie.

Unfortunately, he did not give up. He knew something was going on and would not continue playing the movie until he knew what was wrong with you. - You're lying.- he reproached you.- You haven't even touched the popcorn and you love it; you haven't stopped moving your thighs from side to side, quickly and that's something you do when you're extremely anxious; you also play with your nails, that's another nervous tic you have and not to mention that you haven't made one single comment during this entire time, I've been waiting for your clever comments and jokes, but no a single sound came out from your mouth. You have been breathing deeply and shallowing saliva which is something you do when you try not to cry.

Damn it! He knew you way too well. What was the point of pretending anymore? He already caught your bullshit. Your burst into tears and after he left the bowl on the tea table, you rested your head on his lap as he caressed your hair and your face, letting you cry as much as you need it. After a while, when you felt eased, you sat again and looked at him, who was expecting an explanation of what was going on. You took as much air as you could and finally spoke:

- I saw your Instagram post. - you pointed out. - Ok.- he said, unsure of how that could have made you upset. - You said that you were the only one who wasn't a father and I know that you truly want that, and people saying in your comments how someday you're going to be a great dad and me thinking what if I can't give you that? You assured me that you wanted to be with me anyway, but I feel that'd be extremely selfish of me to take that opportunity away from you, even if my desition is not only for my best interest or yours, but also for that baby, if there's ever one, I don't want a child to be born in a world in which his mother only had him to make his dad happy. Besides that, I fear that if I don't give you children, someday you'd regret staying with me and may even hate me for not doing that or for not let you go to find someone that can give you that.- you explained while a few tears rolled down your cheeks. Henry removed them with his thumbs and then grabbed your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. - I might enjoy to play video-games, to read fantasy books among other "childish" things, but be sure I'm a man. I'm mature enough to make my desitions and know the reasons behind them. Am I sure that I want to be with you even if you don't want kids? Absolutely. I already feel happy and complete by your side, and if someday we have kids I'd no longer be on cloud nine, but cloud infinite; especially by knowing that I'd have them with a woman who loved me enough to change her mind and with a person smart enough to know that the kid's feelings and necessities are more important than both ours. Could I be sad if I never become a father? Possibly. Would I regret my desition? No, because I know why I made that decision. Would I blame you for not giving me kids, if that happens? Hell no; I wouldn't be forced to stay, if I stay it'd be because I wanted so, and the only one to blame if I make a bad desition is me and, as I said before, I know why I want to stay with you no matter what, so I'm not even going to blame myself.- he took a short paused and continued- Look, I'd always wanted to play Alexander, the Great, did that happened? No, but I'm ok with that. I desired to play Bond for a long time and that seems like another dream that will not come true, but I'm ok with that too. At least I had the chance to play Sups and Geralt. I know might be a silly comparison, but maybe that way you understand what I'm trying to say. In that scenario, you are Superman and Geralt. You're the amazing thing that happened to me even and my life would be awesome even if I don't get Bond or Alexander.- he chuckled unsure if he was being clear. You smiled, feeling a lot better and then kissed him. His lips tasted so good. The sweetness of the popcorn left trails on them. You sat right next to him, grabbing his arm and putting your head on his shoulder. He kissed your head and was about to play the rest of the movie when you stopped him and questioned if it'd be ok with him if you play the movie from the beginning to really watch it this time. He smirked and agreed, saying that i'd be ok to see it again because there were some parts he didn't pay much attention either. Your jokes and sassy comments about some silly plot points and characters actions were all he needed to know that you felt much better.

Disclaimer: As much as I’d love to write a song, I haven’t done that, so the song reader writes actually exists and belongs to the band Epica (Twin Flames is the name of the song if you want to listen to it - is beautiful  ♥)

[jaxsteamblog]

Hidden

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In the morning, Katara walked into the kitchen to see Suki draped on Sokka as he cooked something at the stove. Her arms were around his waist and her chin perched on his shoulder. They swayed together and then there was a pop before a streak of Sokka’s swearing.

“You’re at least wearing a shirt while making bacon right?” Katara asked as she sat on one of the stools at the small island. Suki turned around and smiled at her, letting Katara see that her brother was appropriately attired.

“Want some coffee?” She asked and Katara nodded.

“So that was a lot.” Suki said as she poured coffee into two mugs. Still swaying around the kitchen, she opened the fridge with her foot, held onto the mugs by their handles in one hand, and grabbed a container of creamer with the other. Using her hip to close the door, Suki hummed a little bit before putting everything down next to Katara.

“You’re in a good mood.” Katara remarked and Suki beamed at her before turning again to open a drawer. Sokka turned into her place, depositing strips of bacon onto a plate padded with paper towels.

“A lot is happening.” Suki said cheerfully, returning with small spoons. They started to make their coffee while Sokka returned to the stove, swiftly cracking eggs into a bowl.

“Too much.” Sokka added gruffly and Suki rolled her eyes as she leaned over the island, holding her mug up in her hands. She still drank hers black, as they all had when running through war zones, but Katara liked the extravagance of cream and sugar. She sometimes took it a step further and splurged on flavored creamer.

“So, the Blue Spirit huh?” Suki asked over the rim of her mug, raising her eyebrows before taking a sip. Katara scoffed but took a drink as well.

“It’s not a big deal.” She replied.

“I don’t know, I remember you being awfully reluctant to talk about the help you got at the river factory.” Suki said.

“That was years ago and doesn’t matter any more.” Katara replied.

“Do you think he still has the mask?” Suki asked.

“SUKI!” Both Sokka and Katara yelled in unison.

“What? I do.” Zuko interjected.

Katara groaned, slapping her palm to her face as he took a seat next to her.

“It was my mother’s. I wasn’t going to get rid of it.” Zuko continued.

“You absolutely should have. That is going to be the thing that ignites a coup you know, when someone like your sister finds it.” Sokka said, bringing over a platter of scrambled eggs.

“I’m not worried. But hey, it makes sense now why you’re always thinking about that kind of stuff. I guess you’re a prince like me now, huh?” Zuko remarked. Katara looked up to see Sokka give him a withering look.

“I don’t like talking about that.” He said firmly, almost angrily.

Katara turned her face away, but still saw Suki go to him, putting a hand on Sokka’s back before leaning her head onto his shoulder.

Sokka was a lot like their father and fell in love quickly. And it was hard enough for anyone not to have fallen in love with the radiant light that filled Yue.

“And the royal family isn’t really going to work like that anymore. Apparently, Arnook is going to invoke some ancient law that says only a Waterbender can inherit the throne. If Katara doesn’t have a magic water baby, I get nothing.” Sokka said, sounding calmer.

“What if you have a magic water baby?” Zuko asked.

Sokka and Suki looked at each other; he chuckled while Suki smiled.

“Two non-Benders? One of whom is from a long line of people living in Kyoshi?” Suki replied.

“Doesn’t the Fire Nation have something like that though?” Katara asked.

“Sort of. It’s a mix of bending ability and bloodline. If I were to have a non-Bender heir, it might still work out considering I’m the descendent of Avatar Roku.” Zuko answered.

“Excuse me? You’re what?” Katara asked.

“Are you serious? You still haven’t looked up anything about me?” Zuko asked.

“There’s a whole HummFeed Unsolved about the disappearance of his mother.” Sokka said. Zuko winced.

“And I don’t like talking about that.” He said, then sighed. “Plus, that episode is banned in the Fire Nation. She wouldn’t be able to watch it here anyway.”

“Okay, let’s just air everything out. No more secrets, no more hidden knowledge.” Katara said and turned to Zuko. “Give me the rundown.”

“Ah, okay. Um.” He stammered and ran a hand through his hair. “My father is the Fire Lord, I’m his heir, but I was also the vigilante known as the Blue Spirit that tried to disrupt imperial forces. After the war, I went to college under a fake name to study, met Sokka, we survived an assassination attempt when I was discovered, and so my uncle paid for his store in thanks for his saving my life.”

“WHAT? YOU SURVIVED A WHAT?” Katara faced her brother who, holding a forkful of eggs, shrugged and continued eating.

“What about you?” Zuko asked as Katara vigorously rubbed her face.

“Sokka and I left home to find our parents and we quickly got tagged by the Fire Nation navy when they found us on the wrong side of a blockade. We escaped with the help of the Kyoshi Warriors, but they trailed us to the North Pole thinking that I was,” Katara drifted and Sokka stood rigid.

“Kat, you don’t have to-” He started but she held up a hand.

“Fair is fair.” She replied.

“They thought I was the Avatar.” Katara continued. “So when they attacked the North Pole and Zhao, did what he did, I made a pact with the ocean spirit and dragged him down into a canal to drown him.”

“What.” Sokka croaked.

Tears fell down her cheeks but she smiled, her breathing hitched and ragged.

“Afterward, not finding either of our parents, we went from prison to prison to find them. Along the way we met up with Suki and her people. Suki got arrested and ended up in the same prison as my father, so two birds, one stone. Then we got into another prison and found my mother. And Hama.” Katara stared into her coffee, stirring the liquid slowly. “I learned things that still haunt me, my mother died, and now that I’m saying all of this out loud, I probably have PTSD.”

“Katara, you burned eight prisons to the ground and you’re a Waterbender.” Sokka said. “Yeah, I think you might have a little PTSD.”

Katara laughed but they all very quickly fell silent. Sniffling, Katara wiped her eyes and slapped her hands on the island counter top.

“But none of that is going to get fixed today so I’d like some breakfast and more beach time.” She said.

“I’m down.” Suki said.

“I don’t feel like that’s the healthiest course of action.” Zuko said weakly.

“Oh yeah? You got a Ph.D. in psychology to help out with that? Or did you study PoliSci?” Sokka retorted.

Zuko and Sokka started to bicker while Suki got plates for everyone, handing one to Katara and giving her a one armed hug. Kissing Katara’s cheek, Suki leaned her head against hers.

“You okay Tara?” She asked. Katara shrugged and pressed her head back toward Suki’s.

“Yeah. I’ll talk to someone when I get home though.” She replied.

“Good.” Suki said and dumped a large scoop of eggs onto Katara’s plate, making it tip away from her. “I know a good veteran’s group in Ba Sing Se.”

After breakfast, Katara got her wish and they started packing up for the beach. This time, Suki unearthed an instant camera from her suitcase. She started to take pictures, shaking the wobbly film as she avoided Sokka in the hall. Her laughing shrieks made Katara relax but she was still surprised when Suki thrust the camera into her hands.

“I need you to be in charge of this for awhile.” Suki said and winked before lowering a pair of sunglasses on her face.

Right as they were about to head down, Katara stood in the back sunroom. Zuko stood on just the other side of the screen, looking down into the cooler. Slowly lifting the camera, Katara took a picture of his peering thoughtfully down into the ice. At the snap, Zuko looked up and smiled.

“You look awfully contemplative.” Katara remarked.

“One always has to consider the most effective way to move supplies.” Zuko said.

“You guys ready?” Sokka asked, tossing a towel at Katara before pushing open the screen door.

This beach day was much calmer. Katara swam while the others stayed in the shallows. Suki moved through the water, her pants rolled up as she bent over picking up shells.

As Katara waded up through the water, Suki gestured with her head and winked. Confused, Katara wrung out her hair as she walked to the towels. As she sat down, Zuko came and sat beside her.

“I got kicked out.” He said and Katara looked down at Sokka and Suki. They were standing close together and Suki was pulling shells out of her bucket.

“Hand me the camera.” Katara said. Quiet, Zuko fumbled through their bag and handed Katara the camera.

As she raised it, she saw Suki look up and toward her.

Katara took a picture of Suki showing Sokka the bucket. She handed Zuko the picture. She took a picture as Suki pulled out a shell. She handed the undeveloped picture to Zuko. She took a picture as Suki knelt in the sand. She took a picture of Sokka putting his hands in his hair. She took a picture as Sokka fell on Suki.

“Did she just…?” Zuko asked. Katara lowered the camera and nodded.

Zuko started to laugh and Katara smiled as Sokka and Suki got back onto their feet. When the two came up to the towels, Katara could see her brother shaking.

“Congratulations!” Zuko said and Sokka fell onto his knees before plopping facedown on his towel.

“Since we were getting everything out in the air.” Suki said and sat down, rubbing circles on Sokka’s back.

“Let me see.” Katara said, poking Sokka in the ribs. He flopped out his arm and Katara picked up his hand. The band was titanium with a Water Tribe motif carved around the ring in the middle.

“That’s amazing.” Katara said and then looked over at Suki. “Sorry for making your morning so depressing.”

Suki let out a breathy laugh.

“That’s what it always was though right? Falling in love with the world falling apart?” She said and looked down at Sokka. “We take the good with the bad. Pain is a part of life.”

Sokka turned his head to lay on his cheek, looking up at Suki.

“Well isn’t this just adorable.” A chilled woman’s voice said. Zuko’s eyes widened and Katara turned to look.

Azula, Mai, and another woman stood, looking back.

“Still taking the good with the bad?” Sokka groaned.

“This world likes to test me.” Suki said.

Their beach day was cut short and Zuko closed himself in an office with Azula. The rest of the group could hear them shouting, but Mai looked bored. The third woman had introduced herself as Ty Lee and looked strained enough for two people.

“So why are you all here?” Sokka asked.

“Azula found out Zuko was here and decided to drop in.” Ty Lee said with a massive dose of forced cheer.

“It was mostly that she found out he was here with you.” Mai said, looking pointedly at Katara.

“And how’d she find that out?” Katara retorted.

“I’m allowed to talk about where my boyfriend is.” Mai said.

Katara put her hands on the back of a chair and ice formed around her fingers. Noticing the chill, she took a deep breath and pried her fingers free.

“I’m not going to be here for this.” She stated. Pushing the chair away, Katara marched toward the front door.

“Katara.” Sokka called out.

“I need some space.” She said gently. “I’m sorry I keep walking away.”

Suki held onto Sokka’s arm and he held her hands.

“We’ll be okay.” Suki said.

Katara walked out of the beach house and into the wide cul-de-sac. The other beach houses were spread out, quietly ignoring each other to create the illusion of isolated privacy. Sand soaked the lawns and covered sidewalks, making Katara’s flip flops slip over the surface and spray grit up the back of her legs.

Taking a walk wasn’t exactly what she had in mind. It wasn’t what drew her, and she quickly abandoned her route. Taking a wide berth around the house, Katara skidded down the sand dunes and walked to their part of the beach. Hiding behind a dune, she shed her clothes and darted to the water.

Here she could think.

Katara spent a few hours in the water, her thoughts slowly floating through her mind. Nothing really came from it, except that she realized she needed to think more about a few things. It felt like she kept trying to walk away from a lot.

As the sun started to inch toward the horizon, Katara got out of the water. With her bending, she dried herself and pulled on her clothes. While not damp, they were still covered in sand and she grimaced.

Heading up the stairs, Katara sighed but froze as she heard voices.

“Why are you talking to me about this?” Mai asked.

“Right, I should definitely talk to Sokka about my feelings toward his sister.” Zuko said.

Katara looked around, hearing the voices advance, and she darted into the outdoor shower. She pulled the curtain closed as the porch door creaked open.

“Well you absolutely shouldn’t be talking to your girlfriend about your feelings toward another woman.” Mai remarked.

Leaning against one wall, Katara peered out of the gap from the weathered curtain. Mai and Zuko sat on the small steps leading down to the sandy space before the dunes.

Zuko looked uncomfortable and Mai sighed.

“No, I get it. I do.” She insisted and pushed Zuko’s shoulder. “I used to have a crush on Sokka.”

Katara covered her mouth and nose, stopping her attempt to gasp. Zuko looked just as stunned.

“What?” He asked.

Mai blushed a bit, turning her face away and tucking her hair behind an ear.

“It was when you started college. I always liked the idea of being with someone,” Her blush deepened and she kept her hand at her ear, slightly shielding her face. “Silly.”

“Silly?” Zuko repeated in absolute shock.

Mai covered her face and actually made a strangled noise that sounded like amusement.

“It’s just, I never experience life like that!” She said and opened her hands. “People like him and Ty Lee make everything more colorful.”

“And I’m not silly?” Zuko asked.

Mai leaned her head back, looking at him from an angle.

“Zuko, you’re awkward and soft. Our relationship has made me feel like I’m swimming in pudding.” Mai said and turned in her seat.

“Ouch.” Zuko replied and winced.

“Katara is dramatic, strong-willed, and, from what I’ve been hearing, she’s kind. You don’t need someone that’s your opposite, you need someone that compliments you.” Mai laid her hands down on her lap, palms up. “We were put together because of politics and I know I can be happy with you. But will you be happy with me?”

Zuko looked down at her hands and slowly put his on top of hers.

“I don’t think I can.” He said softly.

“But you’ll do the honorable thing and marry me anyway. Forever miserable but never straying to make sure you don’t make me lose face.” Mai said. Zuko sighed and his shoulders sagged.

“I don’t really know what to do here.” He said.

“I can’t make any choices for you. But I’m your friend Zuko. I’ll help you figure it out, no matter what you choose.” She laughed and looked down at their hands. “It’s not like I haven’t stood up to my parents before.”

“Thank you Mai.” Zuko said.

“You can thank me after you actually made a decision. Which, knowing you, will take a stupidly long time since you’re-”

“-soft and awkward. Yeah, I got it.”

They laughed and Katara felt her chest tighten.

“I’m going to go back inside and get your sister to leave.” Mai said and leaned in, kissing Zuko’s cheek. “Try not to burn anything down.”

“One time!” Zuko remarked as Mai stood up.

Katara pressed her back against the wall of the shower and stared up at the open sky above her. Water dripped slowly from the shower head, hitting the sandy floor with heavy splats.

It did feel a little bit like she was walking through pudding.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

[ghostsofmemories]

Insect Poison Update #1

Before you check out this post, please remember that the fight against police brutality is still happening, and education is critical. All proceeds from this shop are still being donated to the BLM organization and will continue to be. More designs have been added since the original post was made, so be sure to click the link to find something you like.

If you don’t know what I’m talking about, feel free to jump over to my WIP introduction! I should mention that Aaron Bennett’s has been changed to Jack Bennett because I had a cool title idea for chapter 2 and needed to change his name for it to work.

So, I managed to spit out the first chapter in a couple days! It’s been difficult, but also way more fun than I was used to writing being (probably because I’m writing something I actually enjoy—who knew I was capable??). I wrote every day for five days in a row, counting today, which is wild and something I haven’t done since my NaNoWriMo days (AKA the first time I wrote this book).

Chapter 1 of the book is basically an intro to Robert and Ramona’s dynamics as (twin) siblings and a short look into how their mother interacts with them. I know the prose for this chapter could use some more work, but I think there’s a lot of character here that I liked exploring.

The chapter has three scenes: a scene where the twins are at the lake together, a scene where they’re eating dinner with their mom, Emily, and their older sister Lori, and one where they’ve stayed up late to eat cookies their mom baked for Church on Sunday.

(oop this update turned out a lot longer than I thought it would be) (CW for like, one teeny mention of drugs)

Scene 1: overhand throws are superior

In this scene, Robert and Ramona leave the house to go to the lake at the end of the street, which they’re not supposed to go to by themselves. They get into a bit of an argument that ends with a pair of shoes in the water.

The lake wasn’t big or clean or pretty, but they didn’t care much about those things. They didn’t mind the algae that tugged at their ankles or the rocks that are so sharp they gave off the impression of wanting to cut you open. It was all they’d ever known.

Since they weren’t supposed to be at the lake, they also weren’t wearing their swimsuits. They swam in their T-shirts and shorts, with Ramona’s sweater lying where the sand and the grass met. Their shoes were tucked underneath it, as if anyone would want to steal their too-small shoes with cracks in the rubber and holes in the fabric. As if their appearance wasn’t protection enough.

The water was cold enough to bite. It made their jean shorts cling to their legs, and they swam stiff and tight so they didn’t have to feel the friction. They did that for two hours; they were rebel children, breaking all the rules.

^ this part was overall just pretty fun to write, and the last sentence is definitely my favorite because of what happens next:

“Mom’s going to be so mad when we get home,” Robert said, treading water and staring his sister down. He didn’t see himself in her face the way everyone else did. Maybe it was because he spent more time with Ramona than he did with mirrors. Maybe it was because she wore her hair in two, rust colored braids and his was short and brown and untameable. Maybe it was because he almost never liked Ramona, but usually, he liked himself.

“Mom’s going to be mad,” he said again. She wasn’t going to be, but Ramona played along anyway. She kicked her legs a little faster, trying to keep her chin above the water like her brother could.

“Too bad,” she said, “we’re already in the water. She can’t do anything.”

The twins knew their mother wouldn’t be mad. She wouldn’t be mad if they were there for four hours. She wouldn’t be mad if they waltzed into the house dripping wet from their hair and clothes, right onto the freshly mopped kitchen floor. She’d mop it again without a second thought. She’d ask them how their afternoons went.

I love this part because I got to explore how Robert and Ramona almost want to get in trouble if it means someone will pay attention to them. They want to get caught and be told no about something, but their mom is so absent minded (and high) that they can get away with whatever they want. In this chapter and probably further ones, we get to see them test exactly how far they can go.

Here’s the part where the fight gets introduced: Ramona’s ready to leave and Robert isn’t, but he also doesn’t want to stay by himself (even though he’d never admit that). He tells Ramona to give her the sweater she’s holding, presumably to dry himself off a little. Instead, he tosses it into the lake.

Sweatshirts weren’t exactly known for being aerodynamic and eleven year old boys weren’t exactly known for their underhand throws, so it didn’t go far. It landed pathetically into the shallow part of the water where their older sister used to take them to catch tadpoles in the spring (they would bring them home in buckets and tupperware and try to have their very own front yard aquarium. Their mother always spotted them and made them march back to the lake and dump dozens of them back into the water).

“Robert!” Ramona yelled, stepping into his space. He put his hands behind his back and stepped even closer. “Go get it!”

“It’s your sweater,” he said. He smiled and bent down to pick up a rock, mostly because it looked like the sort Ramona would bring home and put in a box with three dozen others. He forced his hand into his wet pocket and let it sit there, wrist deep in clinging fabric with a rock clenched in his fist. Later, on the way home, he’d toss it into the grass and never think about it again.

We can see here that Robert is a little unhinged and manipulative, and really wants to get a rise out of his sister and see what she’ll do. Her response is to be even more unhinged and manipulative:

Robert watched as she sat down to put on her shoes. He saw her stand up and toss his sneakers right into the water, one after the other, socks still tucked inside.

Eleven year old girls weren’t known for their underhands, either, but their overhands could be surprising if they put some energy into it. The shoes sunk into the bottom of the lake, and the twins stared at one another as if to agree, just this once, to end the fight before things got worse.

Ramona didn’t smile. She took no pleasure in being wicked. Still, she’d be the first to admit that she took more than a little pleasure in her brother’s silence.

Scene 2: pork and potatoes and corn.

Time for dinner! This scene was fun and mildly uncomfortable to write.

Emily Bennett was nothing if not a creature of habit. She thought this was her greatest secret, something to hold close to her chest, but the things she tried to hide were always smeared down to her sleeves.

“Just in time!” She said, her smile wide enough to call a canyon. She still had silverware in her left hand and a stack of cups in her right, and stared at the next seat in line instead of looking at the twins. Her mind was only at rest when her body was in motion, and even then she struggled to drown out the noise. “We’re having pork and potatoes and corn. Go get your hands washed so you can eat, and let your sister know it’s dinner time.”

And a little later:

You kids are so quiet these days,” she said, setting her glass on the table. Condensation was already forming on the outside of the glass. The twins took turns shifting in their chairs, trying to escape from a heat that didn’t seem to bother their mother or Lori. “What have you been up to?”

The three of them looked at each other, trying to decide who would take one for the team. When eyes settled on Ramona, she spoke up. “I re-organized my rock collection this morning,” she said, and took a bite of mashed potatoes to avoid saying anything further.

“Oh, that’s nice honey. You’ll have to show me later.”

Ramona had no intention of showing her mother the newly cleaned and sorted rocks, and Emily had no intention of looking. They were simply humoring each other.

“Mhm. I think I might have found some amethyst.” Ramona was thought amethyst was her mother’s birthstone (it was, but after no comment from her mother about it, Ramona was sure she’d gotten it wrong).

“How’s the corn?” Emily asked, taking a bite of it and following it immediately with large gulps of water. The glass was half empty.

Lori spoke up. “Good. Same as always.” She wished, for a moment, that she could rewrite the sentence in her mother’s mind. It’s good, mom. Did we get it from the store or the farmer’s market? Could you show me how to cook it the way you do? She didn’t bother with these types of questions because Emily never taught her things when she asked. Lori couldn’t recall the last thing her mother had taught her.

I can’t really describe it, but the family dynamics are exactly how they need to be. I want there to be a certain feeling of tension and uneasiness when everyone is in the same place, but a tension they’ve all gotten used to. 

The last scene is when the twins are stealing cookies and getting ready for bed, which I’m not sure is totally necessary but I think it further shows their dynamics so it can stay for now.

“I’m tired,” Ramona said, trying to dip her cookie into a glass of milk she’d almost finished. “I think I’m going to go to bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Robert said, popping open a tupperware dish and reaching into it carefully, like the cookies might disappear if he moved too fast. “Want another one?”

“We have to leave some, otherwise mom’ll notice.”

“She won’t do anything about it,” he said, pushing the bowl across the table to her, “you can have some more.”

“I don’t want anymore. I want to go to bed.” Ramona stood to rinse out her cup at the kitchen sink, the tile cool and grounding under her feet. Robert left his glass on the table and the cookie bowl with the lid half on. 

“Fine, I’ll just go to bed, too.”

Not to continue telling every bit of psychology surrounding the characters’ actions, but this part is interesting because again, both of them are aiming to get caught and get into trouble, but they refuse to do it without the other. Robert starts everything and Ramona finishes it before it gets too far.

The chapter ends with them getting ready for bed and Ramona hearing her dad’s truck pull into the driveway, meaning he’s home for a weekend before his next set of deliveries and destinations and whatnot. I think I want this to be the inciting incident, but I have to work on it more and figure out what I actually want to happen here.

Overall, the chapter clocked in at 2802 words, and I think after I go back and add some more description and imagery (which is definitely where I’ve fallen short so far), it should end up around 3000-3200. I really enjoyed writing this chapter (I think this book is by far the most exciting project for me, and is going to help me figure out what I want to write from now on), and I want to talk more about how my process is going, but I think that’ll be a separate post where I talk more about process and music and all those little things that go into a writing session for me.

If you have any questions about the story or characters, want to get added to the taglist, or just have anything to say about it in general, make sure you do that in an ask so I can be sure to see it! My notifications are sketchy but I’ve never had an issue with ask notifications. 

Taglist: @coffeeandcalligraphy​ @alicewestwater​ @fliiik-art​