#Involves making sure that Pixy's not thinking straight at all

[mt10lt20]

Ciphixy - "Don't move or you might get hurt."

[yannaryartside]

God I just saw a video essay about the Bear and the guy who made it even recognized that the clairexcarmy scenes that seem to try to makes us care about the relationship and all the other Claire scenes where so perpetually shallow, that she is still a manic pixie “bunny girl” in his own words, but he suggested that she may need her own episode so the audience can get “to know her mind”…🤢

Like, I know is difficult to tell what exactly is so wrong about her, but is interesting that even the people that straight up don’t care about a ship that is two seasons in the making don’t get to imagine is because that’s the intention of the show. Is like those characters that you may not trust but may not completely dislike either.

But this guy also seemed to think that Syd didn’t have a right to move forward from the Bear so…

My biggest problem is I also understand the people that say Syd doesn’t do much, and I am pretty sure that’s her arc, to let her take the wheel of her own life next season once and for all.

There is a lot of racism and misogyny involved in this discussion, but even the people that are not stupid like that, seem to not suspect of Claire (in part because is the shows intention to misdirect them) but also because what they have seen from Syd is not enough for them to root for her. The same way some people didn’t root for Richie until “Forks”

God I am rambling. There is a discussion to have about what makes people care about characters because I rooted for Richie since the phone call in the trip to the store.

I refuse to believe that they haven’t make Claire unlikeable on purpose when Richie was the most obnoxious character and was reddened in my eyes whiting two hours of content while Claire was showcased for two seasons already and is still so shallow. If this was a relationship/character to root for they would have managed to make us care. Shippers or not. She is a doctor for Christ sake, one of the most noble professions in this world and she is still impossible to swallow.

And I rooted for Sydney upon seeing her, because I know what is like to be in an industry you don’t seek to be made for. She is genuine and flawed.

I love her to death. But she frustrates me. She is also stuck in an awful narrative that Carmy is the catalyst for. All her insecurities and fears keeping her in place and I know that’s the intention.

All this to say Storer, you better giver Syd her own episode and it has to be better than Forks and Napkins combined.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 3.2

The thing is Paul just physically can't say what he feels. It's just an impossibility for him. So if he says reading a negative article about himself “doesn't help” or “it's not good” but it “doesn't get home” I just assume he means ‘It hurts, but I can't think about that too hard or I'll go into a self-hate suicidal spiral again’. 

I always love how Paul says Linda. “Linder is er, nature mad.” 

She!!

Hearing Paul talk about watching Mary be born makes me wonder if John was there with Sean? Also I wonder if Linda would talk about the experience so glowingly. Probably. She's tough as nails. I had a lovely experience, personally, after the epidural lol

“Dear friend . . . I'm in love with a friend of mine.” This is such a strange and beautiful song. It's a man who has to apologize to his friend for falling in love with someone else. At least, that's my interpretation. What's everyone else's?

I understand why he's so closed off. I do. But when John is going off every five seconds, we're missing half the picture here and it's turning out warped. They really are such a good study of attachment honestly.

“Nothing will ever break the love we have for each other.” White-knuckling my way through this section with this quote clenched in my fist.

Yoko, talking about John fighting with Paul: any couple will go from swearing to kissing and it's like that. What favors are you doing yourself here, babe? Maybe John's the PR mastermind between the two of them.

I find John's comparison of working with his romantic partner to being ambidextrous very confusing. Does he mean just doing two things at once?

“If I can't have a fight with my best friend, I don't know who I can have a fight with.” -- Intro slutty gender-fluid Wings Paul my beloved -- “Tell me why, why, why do you treat me so bad? So bad? When you're the best friend a man ever had?” I heard on some podcast somewhere. Someone was going on about how forward-thinking the Beatles were to refer to the women in their songs as “friends”. And I was like, nununununu do not give them that credit.

This is just soooo. In this era? 90 minutes in the middle of a recording session?

John: Sorry, my estranged fiance is calling, gotta take a break. Guitarist: again? Drummer: how estranged can they be if they call every three minutes? Yoko: should we just record the other parts or . . . John: (receiver cradled to his cheek, lovesick grin on his face) Hey, how was Heather's school program? Haha, yeah, I bet she was.

Okay, so you've made up with Paul and now you're done being homophobic? *Cardi b voice* well that's suspicious. 

The fact that John's asking Paul to play on stage with him in 1972?? Ugh! If it was just about legalities and money and shit I would be genuinely so pissed at Paul for not going. If only because Come Together sounds incredibly lame without his bass and piano. But also for the obvious fix-it reasons. I have to remind myself of how truly awful Klein was. By being the only one to stand firm against him, Paul actually ended up saving them all from a lot of trouble. But gosh would this have been good!

Things normal people say, for sure, for sure.

Okay in my head it went like this. John calls George and bitches about what an egomaniac Paul is because he won't do anything with him as long as Klein is involved. George gets off the phone and calls Ringo and they make a bet as to how long it is until John decides they should get rid of Klein. 

“Where's your audience, Paul?” “In the theater, Dave.” As he should. The cuntiness is unparalleled. Yeah, maybe people like to see a family friendly eclectic magic pixie sexy hard rock floor show? Ever thought about that, Dave?

Anyway, he seems genuinely pissed when the interviewer even mentions the other Beatles and he refuses to even admit he still talks to any of them. Why? 

John's just so benevolent and selfless. He's completely straight, of course, but he's always offering to do gay shit. You know. To be nice. 

I forget that not only was May their literal employee, but she was ten years younger on top of that. And yet, she managed to do so much good in that relationship. I have so much respect for her. 

There's obviously a lot going on behind the scenes that they don't say in interviews. Duh. But I wonder what it is that caused Paul to be so open and happy in this interview where he's asked about the other Beatles compared to before. I wonder if he and John had a really lovely talk, or if he's heard a demo of “I know, I know.” Or maybe it's just he's so reassured that they've got rid of Klein that he feels safe acting open to a reunion on record. Who knows, Yoko. 

So so smart to pair “In My Life” handwritten lyrics with the matching lyrics of “I know I know” playing at the same time. I forget about that connection (“I love you more”) because it's so overshadowed by the “than yesterday” right after. I seriously wonder if John thought he was being so obvious with this one the way he was with HDYS and half hoped people would ask him if it was about Paul and he could make up for the whole thing. Because it's just so heavy-handed. It's beautiful. I love it. I'm sure Paul loved it. But yeah. John's just beating us over the head with the references here. 

I also wonder (very tentatively!!!) if Paul was maybe a bit more emotionally vulnerable with John than we usually think. I would never think this except for the “you know I nearly broke down and cried” “I'm sorry that I made you cry” and “no more crying!” I don't know. What do we think? 

His little baby smirk. It's so silly and cute. He's being very positive about getting back together, and the interviewer asks if John would initiate that. Just a very coy, “a, well, I couldn't say.” I wonder if at that point if he'd said on live tv that he wanted to get together again if it would've happened. Seems like it might have, but I understand him being scared. 

Elton John taking pictures like a fan and John: I wanna impound all those photos till I get me green card. What a random idea for a commercial. I love it, obviously, it's hilarious. I wonder who thought of it. 

This doc is so good at implication. The smirk as “loving in the palm of my hand” plays. That's not a reference to hand jobs, is it? Certainly not talking to someone with beautiful hands?

Everyone go look up Nineteen Hundred Eighty Five on YouTube. The singing sex is something else, yeah, but I'm always so blown away by the piano part. The fact that he's self taught and doesn't read music and this man will go on to compose symphonies. 

[malleleothreesome]

I am procrastinating writing by...writing this

Ooop hello to my *checks notes* three followers. I am giddy to announce to The Void that I am going to start posting writing very soon. I love to write romance and angst, but ultimately I am a degenerate who must have smut involved at all costs (though I've only written two pieces so far, so I can't say with certainty that smut is a requirement for all future works.) Currently I only write for Malleus and Leona, though I am open in the ask box to being persuaded to indulge in other characters for once. Perhaps you can convince me to branch out. If you are reading this post in the future and you like my writing: I do not officially take requests, however, if you leave a sexy/romantic/angsty thought in my ask box, I think I would be very inclined to expand upon it further. The first piece of my writing to be posted will be a femdom!Reader x Malleus smut that I decided to do in honor of Kinktober. Boy, I sure do love getting roughed around, used, and totally dominated by Malleus as much as the next person. That being said, I hope you'll allow me the honor of taking you on a journey to see why sub Malleus makes a lot of sense...and is also a really fucking hot concept. I'd love nothing more than for my writing to open you up to some new interests. The second piece of writing is a dom Leona x bratty Reader fic I've been working on since January. It's 10,000 words of build up and 10,000 words of smut. And all of these words take place in one night. Please look forward to it! (I love speaking as though I have a large audience.) If you've read this far and for some reason don't like my writing (i'm insecure), please rest assured – I pay my copywriter coworker (now bestie) to edit all of my fics before I release them to the world. She has an innate ability to sprinkle pixie dust all over everything I do. One day if anyone cares, I'll post a before & after of a paragraph or two so you can admire her talent and impact. And yes, this does mean that my IRL friend edits my blowjob scene where I describe in excruciating detail how Leona gags me with his cock until my eyeliner is bleeding down my face – and then has to keep a straight face as I walk past her desk Monday morning.

[nazmazh]

Okay, so, was watching a friend play through Tekken 8's story mode for the last little while.

And, like...

I was vaguely aware that Tekken as a series wasn't like a very "rooted in realism" sort of game/story by any stretch.

But, like - What the actual fuck is happening in Tekken 8's storyline?

There is so much going on.

Like, okay sure - Demons. That I knew about.

But apparently, the main big bad one looks like Anubis, sort of? Okay, sure.

But none of the people that possess the DEVIL GENE seem to look like that - The ones that go full-superpowered-evil-side look mostly like traditional western demons/devils, with maybe a bit of Japanese flavouring thrown in here or there. Or "Angel with Black Wings to show he's not a pure goody-two-shoes".

There's battle robots and evil corporations.

There's multiple bears that participate in the fighting.

As my friend put it, "It seems that in this universe, the Tower of Babel never fell" because everyone's always speaking their native language, yet fully understands everyone else at all times.

This includes the bears.

In the in-story tournament (and I really actually like how they handle this) - You pick who to play as in the battles not involving the main character - Meaning you get to fight those matches instead of just skipping straight to the plot-relevant fight, and you get a chance to play as or against everyone in that chunk of the roster (I think there's eventually an opportunity to play as most, if not all members of the roster through the story).

One of the matches is a Saudi Arabian man with I think, expressly sand-based elemental powers, vs. a Russian man with ice-based elemental powers - He is apparently 26 years old, but legitimately looks like Tommy Wiseau could play him in a movie version.

The fangirl who gushes about the main character is secretly a badass and immediately joins the international coalition of protagonists. It turns out that she seems to be possessed with/by? the soul of the main characters evil grandfather (Who was traditionally the series overarching villain, but apparently Killed Off For Real We-Totally-Promise-Pinky-Swear last game.) [Having read the spoilers on what her whole deal is - There's even more layers to the silliness].

There's a Russian robot girl that speaks Japanese, dresses like some sort of stewardess and has rocket-arms.

The main character's Osakan hick cousin is just sort of along for the ride. She hangs out with the manic pixie dream girl who has a crush on the main character, and whose biggest ambition is apparently to build an amusement park, but she impressed the main villain (again, evil grandpa) by knocking out a bunch of his guards when she came to ask him for the money to do so. Like, he was legit impressed enough to invite her to the special academy he ran, which is where she met the main character.

Circling back to that tournament - It appears to take place in the Roman Colosseum. Which, I guess, sure. If the Tower of Babel never fell, why wouldn't the Colosseum also still be standing.

You can play as the Bear in that round. Apparently his fight against the other guy (Who still has very stupid hair, but disappointingly, much less uniquely stupid hair) has a whole backstory to it and actually is something of a grudge match.

Anyway, after the tournament matches get interrupted by this game's main bad guy (the main character's father), he kills the Egyptian lady who was keeping the main demon's soul trapped in her arm and a purple smoke fills the arena and seemingly kills all the spectators for the world tournament of fighters he organized to make nations jockey for positioning in his new world order (I'm not really sure who the Bear was fighting on behalf of).

He then challenges the demon directly, fights, and wins, and then spins him around by his tail and flings him into the sky, in a way that looks almost identical to how Mario throws Bowser in Mario 64, before absorbing the demon's soul into his own?

At one point, this fighting game switches to a Dynasty Warriors-style beat-'em-up game.

At this point, you have a match as the non-binary German fighter against the Peruvian MMA star who literally will not let the end of the world get in the way of shilling her family's coffee. This is the entire reason she joined up with the bad guys.

The bear jumps in the path of a rocket to do the whole "Get down, Mr. President"-bit for his rival, stupid-hair-guy.

It was at this point that we had to call it for the night.

Anyway - Tekken 8 is deeply bizarre and deeply fascinating. All fighting games should have lore this out there.

And I already adored Street Fighter 6's approach of "What if we treated Fighting in this world in the same manner that the Pokemon world treats Pokemon?"

[anonil88]

Euphoria fans are popping out very weirdly after episode 5 of season 2.

Not gonna lie the things people, who are fans of the show, are saying about Rue and some of the other characters but especially Rue that are so malicious makes me so sick to my stomach. Its wayyy more triggering to me some of these takes about Rue episode 5 last night. To see someone say Rue deserves to be trafficked because she pushed her mom and her sister when spiraling made me teary eyes. If Rue wasn't an addict and it was just one of her other mental illnesses some people would have a very different tone but they don't. I say some because some honestly would say she did it to herself no matter what because they don't think mental illness is real. There are Zendaya stans who completely ignore Zendaya's post on Instagram and are saying the worst things about Rue.

The Jules hate was bad in season 1 but its so much worse and a lot more transphobic now within the fandom. It's disgusting the way people are taking their dislike of Jules and commenting horrid things that aren't a joke to Hunter. In season 1 initial airing nobody was out here saying that Jacob deserved to die or making inappropriate edits of his body. But with Hunter apparently its okay to misgender her and call her unprofessional even though it is just a rumor. I remember people said when they watched season 1 during March quarantine way after it aired that Jules was the real villian not Nate and even Sam said woah hold on now. Zendaya and Hunter said we need to do something so that these viewers are still attached to these characters but also see Jules as a person. I do get that some of the questionable writing in season 2 has made Jules' sea blob special murky, but that's still a 17 year old who has her own life to live. Which is not to be Rue's enabling service pixie dream girlfriend. But now when the character does the right thing by getting an adult involved she's now a rat, a snitch, and deserves to be verbally assaulted for it. What kind of mess?

Someone, a grown adult over the age of 20, today said Maddy is the abusive one in the relationship with Nate and that she pushed him to be a bad person. Toxic sure but how did she make him put his hands around her throat? Then a bunch more people went on to say yea Nate is a good guy, what in the victim blaming. I can't even say all of this discourse, straight up toxic behavior, and speculations are because teens want to watch something not meant for them because that was a grown woman.

The crits of Cassie were cool until it quickly became lets body shame Sydney and let's call Cassie a wh0re and a bunch of other shaming words. You can have empathy and not agree with someone's actions, you can not have empathy too but that doesn't mean "let's tell Sydney she is ugly". Then some of the "analyzations" don't talk about her faults in actions they just call her insults. I don't know who is teaching media analysis anymore but my god that's not how you do it.

Lexi is an angel in a lot of people eyes who can do no wrong. I'm sure even after her play people will still think because she's quiet and keeps her head down she won't have done anything wrong. But, exposing your sisters intimate traumas and your friends (A character based on Rue is in the play and Gia doesn't know but does go to the same school) gritty trauma to the entire student body and their parents is a violation of privacy. It's wrong but they won't see it that way because Lexi is the sweet girl next door who doesn't get into any trouble.

I am so angry and upset to see Kat storyline get cut and Barbie to get benched. But a part of me is so glad that Barbie isn't getting whatever energy has come with season 2 besides people telling her "you and hunter ruined the show for not doing your jobs." Which is people not understanding that actors are humans too. But the way people on social media would have jumped straight to body shaming her and vilifying her if they went deeper into why she doesn't like Ethan, the nice guy. I'm glad she has gotten to avoid that entirely.

And to see these same people call Cal and Laurie good or girl bossify their characters is so weird. Its so odd, because the grace the extend to two adults who should be held to a high er level accountability some of these fans do not. They would rather vilify every action good or bad of 17 year olds with compounding serious issues like addiction, redeem Nate in their eyes because he's hot, and tell Cal Jacobs its okay he video tapes people without consent because he read his family for filth. All these characters are so flawed as people but its the kids that are offered no sense of redemption.

The show is meant to be a reflective piece of media for adults about their own experience and to have grace and empathy for themselves at that age and for kids who are that age now, entertainment aspects of it aside. Where the heck did all that empathy go.

[charmixpower]

What about the boys on social media?

Sky

Has an Instagram. Its mostly dead aside from the most occasional of dog pics. Sky is a little scared of ending up with bad press after how often his parents beat having a good image into his head. He's also one of those people who post text to Instagram, bc it's his only social media

Sky has media training, but due to hiding his identity for most of his life never actually put this into practice. He has an edge, and had a naturally calmish slightly charismatic personality so he gets along fine with being on Tv, it just takes some getting use to. He ends up on tv and in magazines anytime he steps outside because Prince of Eraylon who's dating the Dragon Flame Princess of Domino, is the fucking headline of century and everyone knows it. He accepts this as a part of life and tries not to do anything stupid when the cameras can see him

Brandon

Stella's Instagram is a couples Instagram. Who do you think posts all those pictures of Stella to her Instagram? Yes her but she's too busy posing you see. He also posts an obscene amount of pictures of himself along side Stella. For the bisexual audience. He has a private Twitter just to see all the bullshit that goes down, without getting involved

Brandon, as Sky's stand in for multiple years, has both media training and a lot of experience with the media. He's used to Eraylon standards so he often comes off as overly formal, but very respectful kind and charming, and he's essentially the old media's darling. So many think pieces about how chivalry isn't dead because Brandon, completely unaware that he still flirts around for fun (with Stella's permission of course). The media paint Stella and Brandon as a yin yang couple, when a quick look at their dual Instagram would disprove this very quickly. Brandon has no clue how he ended up in this scenario

Timmy

Oh sure he has social media. Their all privated and completely fucking empty because holy shit FUCK that. He doesn't need reporters talking about his most recent likes on Twitter ok? He has some alt accounts but social media is very stressful and he rather not

Bold of anyone to assume he'd end up on Tv lest he was fucking dragged. He does NOT want to deal with the whole magical dimension making fun of his stutter ok? He already has like 3 older brothers, and 2 younger ones that do that for him. He is good on the teasing. Though he'll do email interviews, these tend to get long and rambly tho

Riven

Once he realized that fame was slowly coming their way he deleted all his old social media. No body needs to see what 13 year old Riven was tweeting. Aside from that he has a Twitter where he mostly just talks about Musa or posts pictures of Musa. Riven is a private person, but also likes attention. The dichotomy of man. He wants to be acknowledged in his field by his peers, not be a public personality. He's every Musa stan's dream bc he posts pictures of her and just spouts off random facts about her constantly. They also tweet at eachother constantly! Not to mention his therapist has done an amazing job at convincing him not to argue with idiots on Twitter, he still subtweets them but still. He rarely posts about himself, when he does it's mostly complaining that he accidentally fucked something up or about how cute he thinks fairy animals/pixies/fairy pets/selkies ect are for like multiple posts straight

Riven is not intentionally on TV. Ever. The idea of that many people watching his every move, after s1, makes his skin crawl. He appreciates the reporting on his achievements in his field and with the Winx, and passively seeths about the reporting on his past fuck ups, but you won't catch him doing an interview unless it's with Musa

Helia

Helia has never quite given a shit about social media. Unfortunately Twitter is made for fighting people and Helia is 80% unhinged violence by volume. Constantly in Twitter arguments, so many fucking sub tweets, and throwing enough shade to sap Stella's enegry. He also posts his art/poetry in-between absolutely fucking destroying the poor idiot who called Flora the most useless of the Winx Club

He's fine on Tv. Helia has an ever present confidence in literally everything he does (really Helia is never caught slipping in the earlier seasons), and he's already well spoken. He handles being on tv with the grace of someone who met many different royal families as a child. He'd probably be interviewed more if he wasn't so short/blunt in person, which makes him kinda a shit conversationalist. He's better at interviewing someone, writing an essay at someone, instead of answering any question in detail lol. Sometimes an interviewer will catch him on something he's passionate about and he'll talk for an hour straight

Nabu

He has a Twitter, he's also a nightmare. He's not like....mean or starting shit for no reason, he just tweets like a man in his 40s. You get inspirational quotes, accidentally qoute tweeting, shit blurry photos of Aisha. No one quite knows if he's fucking with them or is really that bad with technology.....Nabu is still trying to figure out how to change his header. Nabu is the unproblematic fav of the guys in the Winx world, his Twitter is beloved for him being infectiously positive while completely not understanding what the fuck is going on

Nabu is much better in person than he is online. He kinda falls into the same role as Brandon. Media training form a very conservative planet making him come off as ultra respectful and polite, but unlike Brandon, Nabu is unlikely to end up in a scandal lmao. He handles just about all in person appreances for or with Aisha because he knows she hates him, and is the master of talking a lot and saying fucking nothing. (Brandon can also do this because he was required to make small talk for so many years, but it comes to Nabu naturally). He also deals with hostile media presences the best bc he doesn't really react to them and he also can absolutely gut someone while staying calm and looking reasonable..... Someone tried to shame Aisha for not wanting to give up her freedom and her verbally annihilated them for her <3, bc he knows that she stuggles with public speaking

[violetlilysunshine]

Always the Prettiest, Part 2

Chris Evans x Reader

Read Part 1 Here! 

Requested

Anon: Thank you for writing my request!! I loved it!! Would you write a part 2 of when she actually cuts her hair? Maybe Chris helps her do it?

WC: 2,154

Warnings: a little angsty-ish, swearing, mostly fluff, tiny mention of smut at the end.

A/N: Sorry this took so long! The first part wrote itself but this one I struggled to get down and had no idea how to end it, hope you still like it!

MASTERLIST

It was a few weeks later and you were set to fly out in two days to start filming. You were so excited to start your new role and take on this new character, but still couldn’t get over the fact that you had to shave your head. Yes, Chris had talked you down to normal, but now that it was time to do it, your insecurities were flooding in again. 

You sat on a barstool in front of the bathroom mirror, the counter lined with all of the tools you would need. You had decided that you wanted to do this yourself, hopefully surprising him when he got back, but that idea seems to have flown out the window. 

You had tied your hair into four ponytails, deciding to donate it because you might as well, and were ready to make the first cut when the front door opened and Dodger started barking. You knew it was Chris and having him around made your nerves jump even more. 

You put down the scissors and looked in the mirror at yourself again. “It’s too late to drop out,” you thought, taking a deep breath, “it’ll grow back eventually.”

“Baby, where are you?” Chris called from the door, still being attacked by Dodger.

“Up here,” you answered back, your voice small.

Chris hurried up the stairs, eager to scoop you up in his arms. He plowed through the bedroom door, Dodger hot on his heels, only to find it empty. He looked around for a second as Dodger nudged the bathroom door open with his nose. The light drew Chris’ attention as he followed his best friend. Your image quickly came into view and his demeanor softened. 

“Getting started, huh?” he asked quietly.

“Uh, yeah,” you breathed, “was thinking I’d maybe surprise you with it but I stalled too long and now you’re here,” you laughed lightly, trying to calm your nerves. 

“Want some help?” he asked, gently, understanding if this was something you wanted to do on your own, but he so desperately wanted to comfort you. 

You hesitated again, not knowing whether he would help or hurt in this situation. In the end, you decided that anything he was involved in was always better, “please,” you answered while you looked down at your hands fiddling with each other. 

“You sure, darlin’? I don’t mind if you wanna do it yourself,” he soothed. 

“I’m sure. I need you, bubba.”

“Okay, com’ere, “ he whispered, extending his arms and pulling you in. 

You tucked your head into his chest and he placed a few kisses on top of it as his hands ran up and down your back. You felt a few tears spring to the surface as he rocked you just barely. He squeezed you tighter, waiting for you to pull away first; he had all the time in the world to comfort you. 

You pulled back gently, keeping your hands on his sides, as you looked into his eyes. He looked back at you, having a silent conversion that only the two of you would understand.

“Ready?” he asked eventually.

“Ready,” you said, your breath a little shaky. 

“I think you should make the first cut, ya know? Be in control and all…” he suggested, gently. 

“Okay,” you breathed, picking up the scissors.

You brought the pair up to the first ponytail slowly; your hands shook as you grasped the hair in one of them, the other opened the scissors, capturing the bundle in between the blades. You let out a deep breath between your teeth. You closed your eyes and slammed the scissors shut in one quick motion. You felt the hair break away, allowing you to bring the bundle down into your hands. 

“Like a band-aid,” you whispered to Chris, eyes still shut.

He laughed back at you lightly, “yeah, a band-aid.” 

You slowly opened your eyes, first taking in the sight of the bundle in your hands, then glancing up into the mirror. Your eyes widened, seeing what hair was left sticking out in all directions because it was so short. You let out another heavy breath, looking over at Chris to see his reaction.

He was smiling at you genuinely, a twinkle in his eye. You laughed a little bit at him, not fully being able to discern what he was feeling, but he wasn’t looking at you with disgust, so that had to be a good sign. He glanced down at the bundle still clutched tightly in your hand before looking up into your eyes, his smile widening.

“Holy fuck,” you laughed, dropping the bundle onto the counter. 

Your hands reached up to feel the hair left behind; your heart was beating out of your chest. You felt kind of liberated, your feminism taking over as you laughed at yourself in the mirror. 

“Fuck beauty standards!” you yelled at yourself in the mirror, laughing loudly. 

Chris laughed with you, watching you embrace yourself. He’d never felt so in love with you.

For a second you felt so free, then reality smacked you back in the face. You still hadn’t finished and this wasn’t just a one day thing. Your hair would take forever to grow back and you wouldn’t look like yourself and what if you weren’t pretty anymore and Chris left you? The last thought cut you to your core as your shoulders sank. Chris saw the wheels spinning in your head and took the scissors from your hand.

“Let me help, yeah?” he asked, knocking you from your thoughts, “there’s no going back now, hot stuff,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

He repeated your earlier movements to the remaining three ponytails on your head, lightly chopping them off and dropping them next to the first. 

“Someone’s going to get a very beautiful wig,” he whispered as he placed the last one down. 

You kind of wished he hadn’t said that, again thinking that he thought you were beautiful because of your hair.

“But I get to keep the best part,” he added, arms wrapping around your shoulders as you stared in the mirror.

He kissed your face and head over and over, just holding you there for a while, letting you rest before moving forward. 

Once you started to wiggle in his arms, he reached out and grabbed the clippers. He placed the shortest guard on it, before plugging it in. You watched him do all of this, your stomach turning in knots and hands shaking. He reached out and took one of your hands, turning it over in his own before placing the clippers in it.

“You wanna take the first swipe again?” he asked quietly, but you knew it wasn’t really a question.

“Okay,” you breathed, wrapping your fingers around the base. 

You turned on the clippers, flinching a little at the buzz in the almost silent room. You slowly brought the instrument up to your head, aiming right in the center. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, before making contact. 

“There’s no going back baby, just do it,” he whispered.

You didn’t know why you were struggling so much; you’d already lobbed off all of your hair. You can’t put it back on, so what was the alternative?

Chris gently brought his hand up over yours, “together?” he questioned. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, lowering the clippers down and making contact before taking a long swipe straight out of the top of your head. His hand wasn’t really doing anything; he didn’t add any pressure or control your direction, instead he just steadied you.

You let out a deep breath as you pulled the clippers away and turned them off. The hair that you’d just shaved fell to the floor around you. You took a deep breath, staring at yourself in the mirror. Now you really had to do it, there was no way a hairdresser could fix this into some sort of Pixie cut. 

Your hands were resting in your lap gently holding the clippers. You raised the device up, holding it out to Chris gently, “can you finish it?” you asked, your voice so small it hurt him to hear. 

“Of course, honey, whatever you want me to do.”

You felt emotionally drained, still fretting about what would happen between you and Chris, but he insisted that this wouldn’t change anything. 

He worked his way around your head slowly, buzzing away the hair and brushing it off gently with his hands before taking another swipe. He soon finished, set down the clippers, and stepped away from you.

You took a deep breath, still watching your reflection in the mirror. “This is new,” you thought. You swiped your hands over your head, feeling the fuzz. It reminded you of when Chris buzzed his and it was so soft you couldn’t keep your hands off of it. At least you can do that all the time now. 

“I think I want to shower, ya know? Wash the hair off of me,” you said quietly.

“Okay, darlin’, I’ll be downstairs when you’re done,“ Chris answered, leaving you by yourself.

You felt like crying but didn’t, you weren’t really sad, just drained. You instead, swept up all the hair, discarding it in the bathroom trash, put away all of the tools you’d used, got out your best soaps and scrubs, and took a nice long, hot shower. 

You breathed deeply, letting the water wash everything away. It was nice to not spend 10 minutes on your hair, and not worry about brushing it once you’d gotten out, and then how you were going to style it. You ran your hands over it again in the mirror when you’d finished. You felt kind of liberated. Free. You weren’t weighed down by your locks anymore. You couldn’t hide behind it. You were coming around to the new cut. You applied some moisturizer before leaving the bathroom. You threw on one of Chris’ oversized sweatshirts, some leggings, and some fuzzy socks, before walking downstairs. 

You entered the living room, thinking Chris would be on the couch with Dodger, but you found him in the kitchen, his back to you as he stirred some pasta boiling on the stove.

“Hi,” you spoke quietly, letting him know you were there.

He answered, not turning around at first, “hi, baby, thought I’d make your favorite for dinner, alfredo, per your dad’s recipe of course, maybe it’ll cheer you up a - holy shit…” he cut himself off, finally turning around.

You ran your hand over your neck nervously as his eyes trailed up and down your body. You didn’t bother dolling yourself up, instead opting to be comfortable and cozy.

“What?” you asked, quiet as ever.

His eyes trailed over you some more, memorizing every detail of your body. He focused on your face for a few seconds before answering.

“You’re so…” he trailed off, “so gorgeous.”

“Really?” you asked, still a little insecure about the big change and its effect on your relationship.

“Absolutely, hot stuff,” he breathed, chuckling a little as he walked towards you. 

He reached your side and wrapped you in his arms instantly, planting a nice hard kiss to your mouth. 

“God I love you so much,” he breathed, pulling back a little, “I’ve never loved you more, actually.”

“Really?” you giggled, “even with no hair?”

“Even with no hair,” he chuckled back, “can I touch?” he asked.

Your eyes lit up and your smile widened when you heard him.

“Course,” you answered, again remembering how obsessed with his buzz you’d been.

He rubbed one hand gently against your head, a smile breaking out across his face.

“What’re you smiling about?” you giggled at him.

“Nothing, doll.”

“No, tell meeeeee,” you begged.

“Okay, okay, I love it, I do, I love seeing you try something new, but…” he trailed off.

Your heart dropped to your stomach, you didn’t want to hear a “but.” Your eyes widened as you shriveled inside yourself. 

“But, what?” you asked, voice small again.

“But I'm really gonna miss pulling it,” he laughed loudly.

You laughed back at him lightly, your heart lightening once again, “that’s exactly how I felt when you did yours, stud muffin.”

He laughed some more before squeezing you even tighter and kissing you again. This time taking things a step further and pushing his tongue in your mouth, “were you hungry now?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Not especially,” you answered, rubbing your hands up his sides, sliding under his shirt. 

“Well let’s put a pause on dinner,” he kissed you again quickly, turning around and shutting off the stove, “I’d like to find something else to grab onto, hot stuff.”

You laughed loudly this time as he dropped his hands to the backs of your thighs, lifted you up, carried you to the living room, and dropped you on the sofa, beginning to kiss up your body.

[abbatoirablaze]

Heaven's Demons, Chapter 8

Word Count:  1.6k

Warnings:  breakup, slight angst

“Come on, Sweetie…” Andy smiled, leading her out to the bar.  Elliana followed Andy excitedly as he led her to the large bar area.  There were a few guys sitting around, prepping for the shift, “Sam, meet your replacement.”

“Hi, I’m Elliana," she offered up, a slight wave making the large men chuckle, "nice to meet you."

“Oh that ain’t gonna work,” the man chuckled, “we’re all about nicknames here…”

“Sweetie,” Andy said confidently, “call her Sweetie.”

“I can go with that,” Sam chuckled, “everyone calls me Falcon.”

“Your nickname is longer than your real name.”

Sam smiled, “yeah.  I guess it is.  But it sounds a lot cooler than Sam.”

“You guys mind if I call you by your real names?”

“Whatever makes you comfortable, Sweetie,” Sam smiled, offering his hand up to the woman, “but I’m gonna call you sweetie.  It suits you.”

“I don’t mind.”

“That there is Fonz. That’s blondie.  And that there is Gearz,” Sam introduced, “he’s my prospect, and our barback.”

“Prospect?”

“She don’t know, does she?” Fonz chuckled.

“Know what?”

“Sweetie, we’re part of a motorcycle club,” the guy introduced as Blondie smiled, “you’ll be seeing a lot of us.  I run security.  Falcon is the bar manager.  Gearz is your barback.  Sam’s girl is another bartender.  My girl is too.  Barbers is run by the MC, and prez here, lives above it all.”

“GEARZ!”

The man who had a jug of ice jumped, spilling a good bit of it across the floor.

“WHAT THE HELL, BUTCHER!”

“Keep your prospect in line,” an immaculately dressed man teased Sam as he came through the entrance and sat down on a bar stool, “clean up your fucking mess, kid.”

“I didn’-“

“I can help.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to get involved in helping out Gearz,” Fonz chuckled, wrapping his arm around Sweetie’s waist, “you’ll get lost down that rabbit hole.”

Sweetie sighed to herself as she closed the door to her apartment, leaning against it as she slid down to the floor. She still didn't know how it all managed to happen, but one thing was for certain.

Jake had kissed her nearly ten minutes ago.  And yet, her heart still raced as she thought about it. 

Jake. 

Her co-worker. 

The guy that she’d had a crush on since she first laid eyes on him even when he was a nervous barback.  The guy who would always joke and flirt with her during her shifts, but also the one guy that she trusted above anyone else.  The guy who had been her first real friend since moving to the small off the grid town that was run by the mc. He was always there to be sweet to her or help her whenever she needed it.

“You’re goofy,” she laughed, playfully tossing the bar rag at him.  She laughed and Jake’s eyes glued to her chest and how her breasts were pressed tightly to her top, “Jake?”

“Sorry…I zoned out…what?”

“I was saying do you think you could help me stretch out my back?” she asked nervously, “I think I slept on it wrong?”

“Uh, yeah…sure…”

“Great,” she grinned.  She turned around and Jake wrapped his large arms around her frame.  From his position he could see straight down her shirt, and he inwardly groaned seeing the lacy bra she was wearing, “come on Jake, crack my back.  Give me a big bear-hug.”

Jake closed his eyes as she wiggled her ass against his crotch.  She gasped when she felt his breath hot on her neck, and for a moment she considered turning around and kissing him, until he lifted her and cracked her back with a bear hug. 

She sighed as her fingers touched her lips. 

She had never thought that there would be a day where Jake had actually kissed her, and yet…one concussion from Lucas’ kids, and he was all over her. 

But she felt guilty. 

She wasn't single. She'd been with Lucas for a while. And here she was giggling like a school girl over a kiss with another man. She felt disgusted with herself.

Until she had gotten home and noticed that the father of her children wasn’t there.   She didn’t need man guesses to know where Lucas had been.  She knew that he was with Pixie.  She knew that his heart really belonged to her, and that she’d been selfish by trying to claim it for herself.

With a heavy heart she made her way around the apartment, picking up the loose toys.  Making sure that the sink was clear.  And she turned on the coffee pot, preparing to have a long conversation with him when he did finally show up with their children. 

It wasn’t until after nine when he did finally come in the door, his sons both barreling into the kitchen. 

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!”

“Hey babies,” she greeted softly.  They clung to her legs, wrapping themselves around her, “can you two go play in your room?  Mommy needs to talk to daddy!”

“Ohhh mommy knows, daddy!”

“She knows about Miss. Pixie.”

Lucas frowned as his boys ran into their room, the door slamming, and giggles started from the other side.  She gave him a sad look, “I think we need to talk, Lucas.”

“Yeah,” he sighed, biting his lip nervously, “I think we do.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be together, Lucas…”

His head shot up as he stared at her.  He was surprised that she was the one to say it, “What?”

“I-I’m in love with Jake,” she admitted nervously, “and while I tri-“

“You’re leaving me for Gearz?” he growled, cutting off his girlfriend, “for fucking Jensen?”

“No…no…he probably doesn’t like me like that…I just…it’s selfish that I keep trying to keep you to myself.”

“Sweetie…”

“I know you still love her.” Lucas frowned.  He couldn’t deny it, but he wasn’t going to say it aloud to his girlfriend right in the midst of the two of them breaking up, “you know it’s better off this way…right?  You can be with her…I won’t keep the boys from you or anything…”

“I care about you,” he admitted after a moment, “you know that, right?”

“I know…”

“If Gearz hurts you, I’ll fucking kill him.”

Andy gave a large yawn as his eyes adjusted to the room around him.  He’d forgotten all about the wonderful evening that he’d had with Lily and Amelia, and even more, he’d forgotten that it ended with the three of them falling asleep on the couch, watching some kid’s movie.

“Daddy don’t move.”

Andy’s eyes focused on the little girl who was tucked between himself and his Lily.

“Hey bug,” he said groggily, “when did you get up?  Do you want daddy to make you breakfast?”

“No,” she whimpered softly, clinging to her father’s shirt, “don’t move daddy…you’ll wake her up. We can't wake up the pretty queen. I don't want her to leave us.”

Andy’s brow furrowed as he realized that he’d had one of his arms wrapped around Lily, and she was tucked into his chest, their legs entwined, while Amelia had fallen asleep on Andy’s chest, Lily’s arm draped around her. 

“You don’t want to get up?”

“Just a few more minutes daddy,” the little girl begged, “I want us to just lay here…like a mommy, and daddy…and their little girl.”

Andy’s heart melted at his little girl’s words.  Amelia didn’t really like new people especially if that new person was going to be seeing Andy, which was why he never introduced them.  But with her, it all felt different. 

Things had escalated so quickly to feel like a family dynamic with the three of them.  Last night was their first date together, and yet, she’d integrated Amelia as though it were nothing…like they were a family, having a night out. 

It felt so right. Andy could hardly believe it.

And just with that one night, he knew that he didn’t want to let her go, despite the warnings from his friend.  Despite what Jefferson had warned him about. 

So, what if she came with a little crazy.  He didn’t necessarily see it yet, but he was sure that it would be something that he could handle; especially since Amelia got along with her as well as she did. 

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, baby bear?”

Andy looked down to his little girl who had the softest expression on her face, “daddy, can we keep the pretty queen?”

“Only if she wants to be kept by us.”

“She does daddy,” Amelia smiled, looking back to the sleeping woman, “when you fell asleep, she said that you were the sweetest king in all the land…she was gonna go home, but I begged her to stay…”

“What?”

“I told her that if she really liked you, she should stay,” she repeated, not at all bothered by the fact that her father had passed out before them, “she said for someone so cute she couldn’t say no.  I think she was talking about you daddy.”

“I was talking about both of you,” Lily yawned tiredly, her eyes lazily opening up, “but the king is really pretty, princess.  And so are you.”

“Daddy, can you make us pancakes for breakfast?”

Andy looked at his girls and he nodded, not at all bothered by the request, “yeah…three plates of pancakes, coming right up…”

“Ohhh, chocolate chip,” Amelia smiled, climbing off her father’s chest.  She began to run to the kitchen, “I wanna help too!”

“Morning,” Andy smiled softly, still holding on to Lily, “Fancy meeting you in a place like this.”

“Wouldn’t mind it happening more often,” Lily teased, the smallest of smirks forming on her face.  Andy smiled and she bit her lip, looking at him, “you know…if the king requests it, that is.  I don’t know how many times I can get away with just the princess requesting that I stay.”

“Oh, it’s a standing request.”

Chapter 9

Tag list:  @lohnes16, @elbell20-blog, @stockholmdolly, @terrormonster55, @dontbescaredtosingalong

[scribblingfangirl]

WITH LOVE, THE GOSTS | Julie and The Phantoms - Part Three

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Author’s Note: I decided that this fic trilogy occurs a year after the season one final, making Julie and Y/N almost (or already) 17. Also… this part turned out waaay longer than expected. Which is why there is going to be a fourth part because I have one last idea but didn’t want to rush to write it. And to think this all started because of a rushed (haha) 1k Oneshot. I should really start to write more spontaneously, it seems like good things come out of it. Anyway, Enjoy! :D

Songs mentioned in this chapter (in this order): Now or Never & Wake Up by JaTP | Don't Stop Me Now by Queen | Rude by MAGIC! | Don’t Laugh At Me by Mark Wills | Don’t You Worry ’Bout a Thing by Tori Kelly | Still Learning by Halsey | Ayo Technology by 50 Cent | My version of My Name Is Luke by Trevor Wilson | Let’s Forget About It by Lisa Loeb | Let's Just Get Naked Lyrics by Joan Osborne | Hey by Pixies

word count: ~ 3.9k

summary: Even after meeting the boys they still aren’t tired of helping you out and they each have their own little ways to do it.

warnings:  // (english is not my first language, not beta-read)

| PART ONE | PART TWO |

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Knowing that ghosts existed was an absurd feeling (even though you had always believed or hoped that there was more out there than just this world, especially with all those planets that had been discovered by NASA), but knowing that there were three certain ghosts that liked you enough to kindly haunt you, well… that was just plain unimaginable somehow. Yet, still less anxiety awakening than you expected. 

After Julie let you meet the guys for the first time you thought you were prepared to accept that you would not be able to talk to them unless they played something (after all, you had Flynn to groan about that), but the occasional giggle from Julie and her glances into nothing still sent chills down your spine.

So you started to always look around very suspiciously whenever you were over at her house and make obscene hand movements just to be sure that the boys would move before you walked somewhere or sat down (which just earned chuckles from Flynn and annoyed sighs from Julie - “Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they can’t see you. They know where you are, so please stop, or else my dad will call your parents and send you to Dr Turner as well.” The boys found it hilarious and liked to imitate you whenever they came too close to you.) 

The boys also still kept doing little things for you, just not so in secret anymore (though… Reggie was never one for subtlety). Whenever you seemed to have had a bad day (or whenever they just wanted to make you smile) you knew you could count on them having something prepared for you. 

You soon discovered that anything related to food (which sometimes were extremely odd and bizarre combinations) was Luke’s doing (except for pizza and meatballs, according to Julie that was always Reggie). And you knew it was Alex whenever it was something more calm and soothing, yet sometimes a little bit clumsy. And whenever it was blatantly obvious and/or slightly weird (in a good way!) it was Reggie. 

Well, no. Not always in a good way. One time you came back from school and your whole room was filled with glitter and butterflies and a small note with a little ‘Sorry!’ on it was pinned to your desk - cleaning that had been a pain in the a-. But you couldn’t be angry at Reggie, even though you weren’t quite sure what his ultimate goal would have been. 

Speaking of REGGIE...

All those helpful little deeds and nice gestures were always done within the limits of your house (mostly room) or Julie’s house and the studio, which is why you almost let out a loud yelp when suddenly during a math test your pen started to move on his own, filling out the empty space (because yes, you hadn’t been doing very much other than staring helplessly at the paper in front of you). Quickly you grabbed the pen as well (loosely and while trying to ignore the fact that you were practically holding hands with one of the guys) so that nobody would see a floating pen as you did a few weeks ago at Christmas.

From the corners of your eyes, you saw Julie slightly move her head towards you, as if she was listening to you - or rather someone right beside or behind you. ‘Of course. I can’t see them, so the only way to help me is by physically grabbing the pen, but Julie can hear and see them, so they (whoever this is - because let’s be honest, none of the guys really looks like a math genius) only have to tell her the corrects solutions and how to get there. My money’s on Alex.’

You were kind of shocked, and weirdly proud when Julie came up to you after class and said: “Reggie’s not so questionable after all, huh?” (Though… you should’ve guessed it, you did say subtlety wasn’t Reggie’s strong suit.) So you just giggled and shook your head while leaving some of your books in your locker (alongside the fact that Reggie was probably almost (if not!) hugging you from behind - you shuddered at that thought, it’s not like you were already awkward around living boys your age, no need to add ghosts to that list!)

A week later you and Julie entered the studio with blank faces and hanging shoulders. Julie threw a weak little wave towards the piano and sighed while you threw the blankets and snacks you were holding carelessly on the ground and let yourself fall face-first onto the couch, not being able to hide your smile anymore.

“We got our math exams back… yes the one Reggie helped us with.”

You couldn’t see what Julie was doing, but you heard her gasp and whisper “No! Reggie…” after a while. Then she was standing beside you, nudging your shoulder and willing you to sit up, but you didn’t bulge, needing a few more seconds to wipe the smile off your face again.

Faking to disgruntledly accept defeat as Julie’s nudges got stronger (the couch was really comfortable, you totally understood Luke now) you sat up and looked at Julie. “Who’s going to tell them?” you said with a heavy voice and felt how the couch dipped beside you. Raising your eyebrows you quickly glanced to the side (obviously not seeing anybody or anything) and looked back at Julie questioningly. 

She nodded, telling you that it was indeed Reggie and gave you the okay to drop the bomb.

You sighed as you turned back around, facing the wall on the other side of the studio and hoped that Reggie would ignore the fact that you were probably talking to his ear or something. “So Reggie… the help you gave us on the math final? Well…,” you couldn’t keep your face straight any longer and jumped onto the couch, “WE ACED IT! I WOULD HUG YOU IF YOU WEREN’T MADE OUT OF CUTE AIR!” (Okay… maybe there was a little bit too much serotonin involved.)

Julie added smiling, “And I’m happy to announce that due to my good grades my father allowed Julie and The Phantoms to play at the upcoming Summer Music Festival!”

A guitar riff filled the studio, followed by a short drum intro and with a ‘puff!’ the boys appeared in front of you, beaming and glowing at the news. Reggie even threw a wink at you when you smiled back and said: “Thank you!”

Don't look down 'Cause we're still rising Up right now And even if we hit the ground We'll still fly Keep dreaming like we'll live forever But live it like it's now or never!

This allowed LUKE…

The music festival was an experience you would never forget. You were very happy Ray managed to persuade your parents to let you accompany Julie (sadly Flynn had no such luck). Not only did you turn 17 and the boys made sure to have the whole crowd sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to you (as soon as you were back home you would add an extra point to your to-do: ‘find out how to kill ghosts a second time’), but the boys rocked the stage and Julie stood up taller and shined brighter than ever before. 

Gone (yet not forgotten) were the painful shocks and the fear of never performing again and the serenity of the guys was visible. 

It was the last night of the music festival when Julie got the phone call from her father. He would come by to get her the next morning and they would drive directly to visit other family members and spend the rest of the summer holidays there. 

Of course, Julie was excited to see her cousins and aunts and uncles again, but she also felt bad to leave you to drive back alone (you had come with your car jam-packed with all the necessary equipment you needed and that wasn’t provided by the festival).

“Don’t worry! It’s only a four-hour drive! I’ve got good music, podcasts and audiobooks to keep me company and back home Flynn will be waiting. It sadly looks like I’m going to survive without you.” 

Early the next morning Julie and some newfound fans of Julie and The Phantoms helped you load the equipment into your car and you said goodbye to Julie. Expecting the boys to just directly puff back to Los Feliz you didn’t waste any time and entered your car, connected your phone with the stereo and started to blast your favourite Broadway musicals.

You must’ve been on the road for half an hour when suddenly the playlist stopped and ‘Wake Up’ started to play.

So wake that spirit, spirit!

Confused you scrunched up your nose and touched the touch screen displaying the music system, trying to change it back to your playlist. But instead, the music changed yet again.

(Don't stop me now) 'Cause I'm having a good time (Don't stop me now) Yes, I'm havin' a good time I don't want to stop at all

“What the hell?” you muttered, staring at your stereo for a quick second before focusing back on the road, “Why you always going crazy on me dude?”

Once again the music switched.

Why you gotta be so rude? Don't you know I'm human too?

It took you a hot minute to understand what was going on and then you couldn’t stop laughing. 

Don't laugh at me, don't call me names Don't get your pleasure from my pain

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said mockingly, looking at the empty passenger seat, guessing that that’s where your invisible friend was sitting. “Your pain? I’m not the one who is able to puff wherever and whenever their heart desires and who sneaks up on innocent people.”

Silence. 

“For what it’s worth. I’m sorry. I really am. It’s not like you choose this life, you deserved better than this. But I’m really glad I was able to get to know you. I’m really thankful for the light and happiness you brought back into Julie’s life.”

Don't you worry 'bout a thing

But I'm still learnin' to

using technology

You laughed. “Impressive skills nevertheless. Knowing three fitting songs and then changing them at the right time? Let me guess, Luke? Because I don’t think all of you three would fit into my tiny car full of musical equipment.”

At first, there was no music yet again, but then the slow melody of a (for you) well-known song flooded your car. It was the one Trevor Wilson song you never understood until you met the boys, the one song that was so totally different to his usual rock sound (except for the refrains, which, as you later would find out, were parts of the original lyrics Luke wrote for his version of the song).

I sing to remember the stories that used to be But I don’t write to create what could have been And as I scream words into the darkness around me They come out like a dying whisper

The kindest thing to do is to silence them and let them die To unleash my heartfelt sorrow into the sky  And diminish the will to fight That pulses like fire and screams with pain through my veins

But life’s not always beautiful, it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a breeze when he’s a hurricane Don’t call him a tremble when he’s an earthquake Don’t call him an inconvenience Please just say his name

Leaving lyrics in my hands That I swallow like pills Like hurtful words, they rip and claw And press painfully against my chest

But no matter how painful they are I will soak them up, thinking of our hopes and wishes And as each word pushes a new pulse through my veins I keep staring out on the grave of our shared space of mind

Life’s not always beautiful, but it’s rare So I’mma chase it, watch you make it

Don’t need to introduce himself You will want to know his name Pushing your foundations down  He is here to stay

Don’t call him a spark when he’s a lightning bolt Don’t call him a flicker when he’s a raging flame Don’t you dare to underestimate him Please just say his name

But even when the word flood finally comes to an end Fidgeting hands remind me of music never played

I owe him my voice I owe him my sound

So I give him this time I give him this space To sing it out loud To let him declare And let me be proud

What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!) What’s his name? (His name is Luke!)

How long do we say his name? (Until we explode!)

My name is Luke! (Tell your friends!)

Tears were rolling down your cheeks, the song now more emotional than ever before. You couldn’t imagine how this song must affect Luke. Thinking that his bandmate abandoned him (which honestly… he kind of did, only mentioning him in one song, not giving any money to their parents and so on) up until he heard the song for the first time.

“Luke…”

Forget about it Let's forget about it

The ensuing silence wasn’t awkward. You hummed along to the music Luke selected, sometimes it were old classics (probably his favourites), other times it seemed to be random newer hits he probably never heard before mixed with some songs from your favourite playlists.

It was nearing midday and your stomach made itself known. As if on cue a road sign hinted at a diner just up ahead. Setting the blinker you pulled into the parking lot a few moments later.

“I hope you don’t mind. I know home’s only like an hour away, but...” you began to trail off, not knowing where to look at and your stomach finished your sentence. And before you were able to grab the door handle it sprung wide open. 

“Uh, what a gentleman. Thank you very much.”

The meal was over in a flash and once more you realised how much the boys actually knew about you without having actually interacted with you (perks of seeing other people without being seen themselves?). 

It’s like Luke could read your wishes just from your facial expressions. Whenever you needed salt or pepper they were right there. Whenever something was too salty or had too much pepper on your drink was being pushed closer to your side. And when you accidentally spilt something and needed more napkins they magically appeared.

When you then spotted a cute little guitar keychain that reminded you of Luke that was being sold as a souvenir at the check-out it was suddenly safely tucked into your back pocket (though that was really really risky, and while you did not condone it you couldn’t really stop a ghost).

Back in your car, you didn’t even bother to turn on the stereo, knowing that Luke would take over as soon as your hands were on the steering wheel again. 

However, a glance to your right presented you with a map of your surroundings, a big x hastily drawn over the Silverwood Lake in San Bernardino, which was basically just around the corner.

“You want to go swimming? We- I just ate! And my bathing suit is somewhere under that mountain of equipment on the backseat.”

Let's just get naked, just for a laugh Let's just get naked It's a trip and a half

You laughed at that, rolling your eyes and shaking your head, before stowing the map away and turning on the car. “I guess catching Reggie in the shower isn’t enough anymore?”

Hey!

“You started making it weird buddy.”

It had started to rain when you finally pulled up in your driveway, but you couldn’t be bothered to rush inside, enjoying the feeling of the cooling wetness on your skin.

“Look at that,” you said to nobody in particular, not knowing if Luke was still around or if he puffed back to the garage, “I didn’t even need to go swimming after all.”

He was. Sitting in the passenger seat, face on his arms while he leaned on the open car window, he watched you dance in the rain with a smile on his face. He was glad he decided to stick around and keep you company on that road trip. You gave him the courage to listen to My Name Is Luke for the first time (and getting to see you smile while showing off his impressive music knowledge was a bonus too). Because without knowing, you were doing little deeds for the boys too.

And made ALEX…

Whoever wrote that “Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass. It's about learning how to dance in the rain”-quote totally forgot to mention how dangerous small summer storms can be. 

Well sure, it might have been your fault for staying out for too long and deciding to let the sun that came out a little bit later dry you instead of changing into fresh and dry clothes, but whatever happened happened and you got sick. (It’s not like you had anything better to do during the last few days of your summer holidays, right?) 

Flynn had been a great friend and hung out almost daily at your house, playing board games, watching movies or tv or even just discussing upcoming Julie and The Phantoms possibilities with you. But your dearest little helper had been Alex.

The blond drummer had turned into the tall brother you never had but always wanted (focus on tall because the age thing with ghosts is seriously confusing) even if he was invisible to you 100% of the time. You had the same interests and were able to bond without actually having to say any words, little gestures and reciprocations on your side were more than enough.

Julie had come up with an easy solution and had bought you some of those sound buzzers (like the ones that dogs and cats use to communicate with their owners) and recorded some simple words and phrases the boys liked to use on them. Now the boys just had to press them to be able to communicate with you without having to use pen and paper or Julie herself (sure your parents were a little bit weary and confused, but you said it was for a longer school research project and that shut them up).

Now, feeling way better than during the last few days, but still very tired, you were sitting in your bed, not really focused on the tv show (or was it a movie?) that was playing on your computer. You had been contemplating and mentally preparing yourself to get something to eat and to drink for the past 15 minutes, but the thoughts alone were exhausting and binding you to the bed. Just then a tray with a water bottle, meds and a fruit bowl floated into your room. 

Suddenly wide awake and full of energy you clumsily jumped out of your bed and grabbed the tray, throwing a quick glance out of the door to see if your parents were around and slammed the door shut, wincing at the loud sound and hoping that Alex had walked out of the way (not that it would have hurt him, but you know - rude).

“Rude.” 

See? He thought the same. (Julie had to specifically add this word for Alex.) 

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. But I would like not to get murdered or have Sam and Dean Winchester on my back because my parents think I’m possessed and need to be exorcised.”

“Me.”

“You what?”

“Me.”

“Alex… I need more context.”

“I do. Me.”

You just blinked blankly at the sound buzzers, trying to piece together what Alex was trying to say.

“Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. Me. M-”

“THAT’S ENOUGH Y/N! WHATEVER THAT SCHOOL PROJECT IS, TELL IT I HEARD IT AND I DON’T CARE WHAT IT WANTS!” you heard your father's scream come muffled through the door.

The audience laughter from sitcoms filled your room and you groaned, grabbing a pillow and smashing it against your face.

Faintly you heard the telltale sound of a pen scribbling something on paper and when you peeked from behind the pillow a note was floating in the air in front of you. “You mean exorcise ME! You would be the one surviving!” 

“What? Oh my god… yeah okay, YOU get exorcised… same thing. Both aren’t allowed to happen. Forgive my fever brain.”

“No.”

“Fork you, Alex.”

“No.”

“I have Carlos on speed-dial, I’m sure he already came up with other methods to get rid of ghosts other than the salt thing. He already told me that he’s sorry and that he thinks I might get haunted by you too with the amount of time I spend at their house.” 

“No. Food.”

Confused at that topic change it took you a few seconds to answer. “What?” Looking around your gaze landed on the tray that you had deposited on your desk. “Oh right! Boy, I completely forgot how thirsty and hungry I am. Did I say thank you? Fang u!” you mumbled with your mouth full of fruit. 

“No. Food.”

You swallowed down your food and took a big gulp of water. “Yes Alex, thank you. I am eating. You see? Here I am, here’s the food. The food is here and now whoops - ifs gan!”

You could basically feel the annoyance radiating from the ghost and weren’t really shocked when the pen started to scribble something down again.

“No! Argh!” He really wrote Argh… that dork really wrote Argh! “You can be worse than Reggie sometimes, but you do it on purpose and I’m just sorry for Reggie. A) Carlos thinks he got rid of us by making a french dip and B) You’re awfully lively for a supposedly sick person. I might need to use the buzzers more and see what other reactions I can provoke from your parents.”

Crumbling the note in your hands you thought ‘Challenge accepted’. “You know what? I think I’mma go back on Reggie’s offer and actually let him introduce me to Wilbur. He might know some stuff I could use to blackmail you. And you’re right! I feel much better, just very tired, but that’s nothing a little bit of fresh air can’t fix! Toodles!” 

You left your room, leaving a flabbergasted ghost behind who had lost his snapback with the number of times he had been combing through his hair with his hands. And while angrily pressing a pink buzzer, the buzzer wasn't the only thing that screamed “WILLIAM!” after the girl. (That was another important sound Alex wanted to have recorded.)

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

Taglist: @sunsetcurvej​​ @ifilwtmfc​

[ackerfics]

hi! i don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are would you be interested in a soulmate au with mikasa. i adore soulmates au a lot! mikasa x fem!reader (aot cast reincarnated into the modern world and they get to have a happy and not stressful life)

she is half of my soul, as the poets say  — mikasa ackerman

— mikasa ackerman x female reader (soulmate au)

— warnings: none, just fluff

— summary: you finally found each other.

— word count: 3.2k

— author’s notes: thank you so much for the request !! i hope you enjoy reading this because i had a blast putting this all together. plus, i couldn't help but place a quote from 'the song of achilles' bc that was a masterpiece.

Underwater.

Your surroundings were submerged in the depths of the ocean to you.

The professor in front of the lecture hall continued his lesson in a cacophony of white noise. The occasional flipping of textbooks and the clacking of the keyboard droned, a majority of the students tried taking down what the middle-aged man was reciting. You should be doing those, too, but there was something about your day that made you want to skip class and bury yourself in a mound of blankets. The air-conditioning wasn’t helping at all, it just made you drift away, even more, images of flying people and humanoid giants flickering through your mind. Even your vision was becoming blurry as you stared at the seat in front of you, not noticing how your Ethics professor dismissed your class with a reminder of the paper that was due the following week. You were still seated as most of the students stood up, eager to spend the rest of their day inside their dormitories and apartments.

“[Name].” Somebody called out to you but the raw feeling of swinging in midair acted like a bubble, keeping you from going back to reality. The voice groaned in frustration at your lack of response. “Earth to [Name]! Hey, wake up!”

You shook out of your stupor with a blink, turning your head slowly at the person waiting for you. You took in her casual attire, so different from the daydream you were in. At first, you didn’t know about your whereabouts, making you look around the lecture hall — empty except for the two of you and the professor at front. The feeling of confusion once again dominated your sound mind as you breathed out, “Where am I? I thought I was just outside in this desert and I was surrounded by people who were crying like they were a hopeless case. Then there was someone screaming my name, saying they wouldn’t let me go.”

The person pursed their lips, concerned and slightly creeped out at the nonsense coming out of your mouth. There weren’t any deserts near you right now because you two were in the middle of the city, inside a university. The way you phrased those words sounded like a plot from an apocalyptic movie you were bound to binge during academic breaks. There were accounts scattered around the internet about reincarnation that the person drank in the early hours of dawn when they couldn’t go to sleep but witnessing it in front of them, was another whole level of conspiracy theories. A hand was planted on your shoulder, your friend smiling sympathetically at you, knowing that you sometimes have these episodes inside your shared apartment. The look you gave them was enough to erase the wariness bubbling in your friend’s stomach, which spurred them to gather your things and placing them inside your backpack. Your friend worked in silence, however, they were aware of the stare you never took off from the side of their head.

“In case you don’t remember me,” your friend looked up at you with a twinkle of mischief in their irises, “I’m Hitch and I’m your roommate.” She was speaking to you as if you were a toddler, something that made annoyance tickle your chest.

“Hitch?” You mumbled, looking down on your lap for a solid minute until you gasped out loud, the sound echoing inside the lecture hall without any warning. The professor looked up from his seat, glare already in place at the disruption you caused. You buried your face in your hands, face erupting in hues of red because of the embarrassment creeping in your throat. “Oh, my God, don’t tell me I did it again.”

Hitch nodded with a shrug. “I mean, I’m used to your episodes but it always amazed me how you wake up from them all disoriented.” Finishing with her task of tidying your bag, she pulled on your arm. “I think I should record whatever you say next time, this could be my viral moment.” When you gave her a dry glare, she laughed. “Oh, come on, think of the possibilities! But pushing that aside, let’s have dinner first.”

“Hitch, it’s only four in the afternoon.”

She scoffed lightheartedly. “We can always have a midnight snack later. Right now, I’m craving something savory.” The two of you went outside the lecture hall’s door, not missing the look of relief from your Ethics professor as you linked your arm with Hitch’s. She turned to you expectantly. “Any ideas for dinner, bub?”

There was a churning feeling inside your stomach, very much like those life-and-death situations during exams where you rely on your gut for the correct answer if the test includes multiple-choice questions. This time, instead of the nagging voice telling you to encircle the first choice, your gut was telling you to head to the café near your university. Aside from their famous coffee blends and teas (the latter being one of their specialties), the café houses a variety of dishes in its menu, which doesn’t make them a café anymore but the owner still insisted that they’ll be known as that establishment. It was more of a restaurant than your regular coffee shop, making it a hit among the students in the University of Eldia, where a majority of the student body was either caffeine-dependent or reliant on fast food take-outs. The quaint café owned by Levi Ackerman was the perfect solution to yours and Hitch’s grumbling stomachs. 

“How about the café just outside of uni?” You suggested, hoping that Hitch will consider the idea.

The said girl hummed, a finger placed on her chin. “The one owned by that grumpy short-stack?” 

“Hey, that’s rude.”

Hitch shrugged without care, hoisting her tote bag up to her shoulder. “Even his cousin calls him that, you know?” At your raised eyebrow, all Hitch could do was laugh at your adorable, clueless expression. Between the two of you, the light-haired girl was the social butterfly in your friendship and you wouldn’t be surprised if she even had an inkling of the gossips happening around your year level. 

“Relax, his cousin is a good person (that is if she doesn’t kill you with her blank stare), along with their little friendship circle. I must say, all of them look so adorable. You remember Annie, right?” She continued when she saw you nod, the mention of the blonde made you remember your time when the three of you shared your apartment. It was a good kind of chaotic, the three of you balancing out each other’s personalities. Annie was always the indifferent one, Hitch the most sociable, and you being the mediator of the two. “She’s dating one of Mikasa’s friends, Armin. Mikasa is the cousin, by the way, and I can clearly see the resemblance between her and the café’s owner. With the permanent scowl and all.”

“Uh-huh.”

You didn’t know what to do with the information so you only hummed and nodded your head every time Hitch spewed out a couple of trivia involving people you have heard down the hallways or being called during roll-calls. She even told you how one of Mikasa’s friends, Sasha Braus, was reprimanded for eating inside the class of an infamous terror teacher, which landed the girl on that professor’s blacklist. The girl, Sasha, was actually in one of your classes but you never really talked to her, all of your attention poured out into absorbing what the teacher relayed in the class. All of Hitch's ramblings spanned the entirety of your walk to the café — a talent your roommate has that amazed you every time it happened. 

The smell of cinnamon greeted you once you stepped inside the café, the homey decorations making your heart warm in an instant. There were a couple of college students in separate tables, all of them draping their textbooks and readings in front of them, headphones plugged in despite the soothing background music brought by the café’s speakers. Now that you mention it in your head, midterms were coming up in a month and you hadn’t started organizing your revisions. As your mind was filled with the scent of flowers and coffee, Hitch tugged on the sleeves of your blouse, your light-haired friend wordlessly gesturing her head towards one of the empty tables overlooking the window showing the small garden beside the café. You nodded and flashed a thumbs-up, already knowing what Hitch’s order is the number of times she went home with take-outs from this establishment.

Thinking that you should order something for a change, you looked up at the menu board above the counter. With your order listed in your mind, you faced the person manning the counter, ready to relay your order to her. What greeted you, though, wasn’t a smiling cashier, instead, wide gray eyes stared at you with a slacked jaw — irises flecked with an emotion that sent your heart lurching inside your chest. She was a tall girl with muscles in the right places, black hair styled in a pixie cut that made you appreciate her features more. You faintly recalled that she was in one of your majors, which should explain the air of familiarity surrounding her. Her hands on the small notepad hovered over the current lilac paper, her posture rod straight as her breath hitched while staring into you. You weren’t sure what made her react like that so you slightly tilted your head back to look at the booths behind you. Hitch caught your eyes, raising her eyebrow in a silent question. Facing the counter attendant again, you were shocked to see that star-like tears were decorating her eyelashes, chapped lips wobbly. 

It felt like you’ve seen that expression too many times but you were sure this was the first time you saw her face to face.

“Oi, Mikasa, why are you stalling?” A short black-haired man entered the space behind the counter, arms crossed and gaze questioning as he took in the breaking form of his employee. “It’s been a full minute and you still didn’t take the customer’s order.” 

“Can I stay in the breakroom for a while?”

Your breath was taken away at the sound of her voice. It sounded like all four seasons were present in the soft-spoken tone she carried, very different from her tough physical appearance. You were left staring at her back, chest nearly bursting open because of how fast your heart pounded just from that sentence. Images of late-night trysts played in your head; of secret kisses that created an ocean of emotions inside you; of eyes looking at each other with tendrils of hope before the gates open, death beckoning you in its arms; of desperate promises, neither person could ever keep. All of them were so familiar and nostalgic that a swarm of butterflies was starting to infest your ribs and chest, sprouting flowers that clogged your throat from speaking. 

Levi glanced at you, eyes analyzing your form with a hint of concern for his relative and wondering what made Mikasa act like that. “Sure, go ahead, brat, your friends are at the back. Hello, ma’am, I’ll be taking your order.”

“Oh, sure,” you murmured before beginning to list down the food you and Hitch will be indulging in, eyes curiously staring at the girl going inside the breakroom. “Uhm, is she going to be alright?” You tried asking Levi, who only looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “It looks like she had a fright here.”

“It’s the first time I saw her in that state, to be honest,” Levi simply answered, with no room for other discussions. “Your drinks will be served shortly.” He gave you a small gadget, his pointer finger pushing a button on the device, making it light up in a blinding red. “Once your drinks are ready, this will light up and you can get it here on the counter. Thank you for your patronage.”

“Thank you, too.”

It was only when you seated yourself in front of Hitch that you realized Mikasa’s voice sounded like the one always shouting your name in your daydreams, failing to keep the promise of never letting you go.

-

Mikasa was a mess.

First, before waking up for her 7 A.M. class one autumn day, she was haunted by the memories of her previous life (or this is what Armin told her, with him also remembering being born again from a different timeline, another universe altogether rather). In that more outdated version of this world, they were on the constant grapple with these beings called Titans. Her dreams became more complex the more time passed by as these Titans disappeared, replacing with it a looming war between two countries. Her daydreams always resulted in tear-stained cheeks, eyes then finding her best friend who started a mass genocide in their previous lives, Eren. When Mikasa remembered that part of her last life, she would often find herself staring deeply at the side of Eren’s head, resulting in the brown-haired man complaining about her soulless eyes. It looked like Eren didn’t remember it, which nearly drove Mikasa mad. 

Until that day Eren came up to her after a three-hour lecture, all haggard with his man-bun in disarray, and shouting, “I’m so sorry for laughing at you, Mikasa! I had a dream during a lecture of those titan things you and Armin are talking about. I believe you!”

Second, the warmth of somebody was a constant in balancing out the horrors of her daydreams. Among the carnage, a body fitting against hers with the morning rays passing through the slit of the windows was a sight she didn’t want to wake up from. Threads of soft hair tickled her cheek, making way for an unforgettable shade of irises that she compared to the crystals they found underneath the Reiss estate. A smile so vibrant that it paled in comparison to the blue expanse of unknown waters they saw after killing all the Titans in Paradis. The smell of freshly picked flowers lingered in the air, acting like the comforting blanket Mikasa had when she was young. At first, she couldn’t see the face of the person but as the episodes became more vivid, Mikasa finally saw the woman of her dreams. 

Pulchritudinous — that’s what you are.

After that encounter with you in the café, Mikasa immediately talked everything out with her two friends.

“So you’re saying that you kind of knew her but you don’t?” Eren pointed out after a spoonful of ice cream. “This is some conspiracy theory shit right here.”

“Eren,” Armin sighed. “This is not one of those videos you watch at 3 A.M., okay?” The blonde glanced at the last member of their little trio, who was pacing in front of them with a queasy expression on her face. “Mikasa, I know you feel like you’re in a pinch but please calm down.”

Eren leaned forward and took a spoonful of ice cream from the tub on the low table. “It’s no use, Armin. You know Mikasa.” He nodded his head towards the said girl. “Once she enters that state, we can’t do anything about it.”

“I know,” Armin trailed off, dejected.

Mikasa buried her hands through her hair. “This was so unexpected.”

“Clearly,” Eren dryly stated.

The blue-eyed boy beside him instantly hit the back of his head. “Eren!”

Mikasa stopped pacing, not hearing how Eren exclaimed ‘finally’, her face and neck erupting in a warm shade of red that made her two friends exchange a concerned glance. Placing a hand on her pounding chest, she murmured with half-lidded eyes, “She’s much more beautiful than my dreams depicted her to be.”

Armin breathed out a silent ‘oh’ while Eren snickered, “Great, she turned into a simp,” to which the former slapped another hand at the back of the green-eyed boy’s head.

“That explains it,” the black-haired girl exclaimed. “There were times where a voice inside my head tells me to be at this specific place at a specific time.” (“I’m concerned,” Eren stage-whispered to Armin.) “While applying for this university, I had a feeling that I should take up medical sciences. Every time I’m at the campus, I will always find myself in the library after five o’clock and there are instances that I would search the tables. And you guys know how I hate helping Levi in the café.” Eren and Armin nodded as if they were children. “I just realized that she was always there, I can see her now. Why did I miss her when all this time, I was meant to find her? And now that she’s finally in the café right when I told Levi that I felt like helping the shop, I ran away! I’m such an idiot!” Mikasa then sunk on one of the plush chairs, her groans mingling with the gloomy atmosphere she created.

“You’re not an idiot, Mikasa,” Armin told her, to which she replied with an aggravated groan.

“Yeah, you’re not an idiot, you’re just having a gay panic moment,” Eren casually announced. Both of his friends slowly turned their heads toward him. He stared right back, blinking as he shrugged. “You have to admit, I’m not wrong.”

“You’re not helping right now.”

“I’m just stating a fact, Armin!”

The blonde boy rolled his eyes. “So what are you going to do about this, Mikasa?”

“About Eren?”

“No,” Armin shook his head. “Eren will be fine with his two brain cells.”

“Hey, I’m right here.”

Armin rolled his eyes and fixed his gaze on his gray-eyed best friend. “So are you going to tell [Name] that you two are star-crossed lovers pre-destined since your previous lives?”

The confidence she gained the day before during that conversation with her childhood friends dissipated as Mikasa awkwardly stood in the middle of the university’s library, eyes widely staring at you, who was browsing the shelves for the reference material for your papers. She didn’t expect to meet you this suddenly. All she was supposed to do was borrow a reference material and there she realized that the two of you share the same major so most of your schedule line up with one another — the both of you share a free period. Almost as if you were surrounded by a magnetic field, Mikasa went in your direction, her heart matching her footsteps. Meters became feet as she looked at your captivating figure. Even with a shirt tucked inside a pair of jeans, you are still the most beautiful girl inside the library. 

And as you lifted your gaze, your glinting irises meeting her gray ones, Mikasa swore her orbit was waiting for this moment to be tilted to you.

Tears were immediately present in your eyes when she stood in front of you, it was as if you remembered her.

“Hey,” Mikasa breathed shakily, hands gripping the strap of her backpack.

“Hey, starlight.”

That nickname. The one you blurted out when Mikasa invited you stargazing in the meadow beside the Survey Corps Headquarters. You said it suited her because her eyes reminded you of the glow of the stars forming a canopy above you. But for her, you were brighter than any star in the sky, you were an entire cosmos altogether. “You became a part of me the moment I laid my eyes on you in our town. Right then and there — wherever you go, I’ll go. Because I know, I’m a part of you as well.”

“You finally found me.”

You are half of her soul, as the poets say, and the Fates will do everything in their power that it stays like that for eternity. 

[curiousconch]

Chase You / Chase Me

Prologue: I've been roaming around, always looking down

Series Synopsis: Fiercely passionate for law, Gabe Ricci suddenly finds himself quickly enraptured by newly-hired senior associate Alex Keating. As both tread the lines crossing between career and romance, it leads them to a path they never travelled before. But as his past chases him in the present, Gabe and Alex are forced to finally confront what the future may hold.

Book/Pairing: Choices - Laws of Attraction / Gabe Ricci x MC (Alex Keating)

Words: 800+

Rating/Warnings: Mature (16+) / implied sexual content

Author's Notes: It's been a long time coming, but here it is! Another series for another choices book I'm currently stanning. I'm unsure how long will this be, but if you're interested, let me know if you want to be tagged on succeeding installments. If not, please reblog or comment, I'd really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: Characters except MC are original characters from Pixelberry. I am just borrowing them.

Almost Midnight, in a bedroom in New York City

Awakened by the horns of the infamous yellow taxis from the road nearby, Alex Keating rubbed her eyes from traces of the euphoric slumber she rose from.

That fireman surely knew how to set things alight.

Her thoughts got filled by the afternoon she just spent with Tyler, invoking a smirk to cross upon her lipstick-smeared mouth. With so many parts of her aching from the passionate encounter, her effort to sit up from the bed beside the sleeping stranger proved to become a struggle. She boosted herself up with her elbows, and she eventually climbed out and picked up the mess of clothes that scattered on the floor. Zipping her red dress, she picked up her heels and quietly led herself out of the apartment, not feeling an ounce of regret from leaving the guy without even a kiss goodbye.

Perhaps practice made her routine perfect. Good thing her reputation as a fierce lawyer superseded her similar "conquests" back in her hometown. And with a city as big as New York, her playground just got bigger.

Stepping into the hallway of the apartment building, she immediately slipped her shoes on and took the elevator straight down, exiting the building without looking back. The city dwellers that passed her by were none the wiser, not giving any care from her less-than-polished appearance.

She brushed her fingers through her pixie cut as she attempted to map out the right direction towards her own condo, taking a quick glance of her brunette hair on the wide window of a shop she just passed by. The soles of her black pumps clicked against the concrete pavement, the sky a shade of gray as the lights of the sprawling buildings illuminated the city above her head.

It's just been a few days, and she's beginning to love this city. She wondered why she didn't bring herself here much earlier.

As she contemplated, she pulled out her phone and checked her messages. In one of her notifications, she saw his name. And instantly, a prickle of regret rose from within her like poison. She halted her steps, confusion rendering her stuck. With a frown wrinkling her brows, she looked back on her screen, trying to make sense of the sensations taking over.

Gabe Ricci.

Shaking her head, she blew a long breath. She never backed down from flirtations, she loved it. The smooth talking, the pseudo-romance - it was a her own brand of stress relief. Being a lawyer is not an easy job after all. But the strange feelings she was having right now for this particularly attractive man definitely was new to her. She didn't know what to make of it - yet.

Alex Keating was all for the chase. Relentless as she is, she'll definitely bring herself to the end of it, regardless of the outcome. What's a chase without a thrill, right?

I'll definitely see how this pans out. Burying the last of her thoughts of her boss, she finally found the glass door of her own complex. She went inside, dismissing the brewing emotions as she did.

***

At a nearby Penthouse

Half-naked, he downed the remaining scotch from the second shot he just poured for himself. Leaning forward as he set down the thick glass on the marble top, Gabe's tousled hair wet from a quick shower.

His eyes darted to his door, which was ajar from the hasty exit of an attractive blonde whom he met earlier from the bar. He didn't intend to get laid tonight, but alcohol just couldn't drown the itch that a certain senior associate has ignited in him.

Ever since she walked his office at McGraw Byrne, he became enraptured with her. And for the first time since he switched to corporate, he invited this attractive new hire for coffee and made excuse after excuse to be involved with her more. His rationality wants to leave him every time he was around her.

For Gabriel Ricci, this wasn't normal. He was never this infatuated. Groaning, he rubbed a hand on his temples, hoping to quell the distracting thoughts.

He made himself think of his senior partnership. All of the years of hard work has finally came into a fruition. Every effort he made was paying off. And he wanted to revel in it, he really did. Because for the first time, as a senior partner, he has full control on how much pro bono cases he could take. He can make more difference in the justice system . The same system that years before, almost killed his own passion for law.

At last, he can make it up to Rob. A pang of guilt quickly engulfed him at the thought of his lost brother. It took so much of him to swallow it back into the depths of his mind.

But the thought of Alex once again made it difficult to keep his head straight.

So Gabe poured himself another glass, hoping that the strength of the brown liquid was enough to extinguish any of his lingering desire to become someone more in her life.

Yet he knew, deep down, he would never be able to shake it off.

Tags: @choicesficwriterscreations

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found - Chapter 3

Summary: A messenger fills Jude and Madoc in on important news. Jude and the cat pay a visit to the palace. || Inspired by this prompt by @newblood-freya

Words: 3188

Rating: T

Warnings: Brief description of a murder in the first section.

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER FOUR

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

A/N: So I thought writing a multi-chapter would be much easier once I had a solid plot laid out but when I tell you I was dragging words out by my teeth—yeah, I'm not super happy with this chapter but it's here and technically I had it finished in time, just not posted so uh. Good for me? Yeah I'll shut up now, here's chapter 3.

***

Dead. One of the princes was dead.

Jude stood stock still for a long moment, the shock on her face palpable as the words echoed in her mind.

Prince Dain was dead. Did that mean Cardan was, too?

Finally, she swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Prince Dain is dead?"

“Did you not know?” Madoc’s voice was heavy, his eyes sharp.

“No,” Jude gasped. “No, I–no. I thought this was about Cardan. I thought—I don’t know what, exactly, but not this.”

Madoc ran a large hand over his jaw, and then—

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the chairs set along the wall. “You might as well stay to hear the rest.”

She nodded numbly, hesitating before turning to the chair. The cat was standing next to her, black fur fluffed up and small body trembling, his eyes fixed on her foster father. He seemed as horrified as she felt.

“Your guest can stay as well,” Madoc said, tilting his head curiously at the cat. “We will talk about keeping pets later.”

With a nod, she scooped him up as she moved to sit down, tucking the trembling form into herself. She wanted to murmur comforts into his soft black fluff—as much for him as for herself, she suspected—but with Madoc and the messenger looking on, she settled for soothingly stroking the length of his back.

Madoc turned his attention to the messenger boy. “Report,” he instructed, like the boy were one of his soldiers.

He certainly reacted like one, his spine straightening and his chin lifting as he snapped his liquid gaze up to Madoc’s.

Jude didn’t blame him. The old redcap could have that effect.

“Prince Dain never returned to his quarters yesterday,” the imp said. “He was found by a librarian this evening in the royal lineage section, propped against the shelf and—” the imp paused, looking slightly sick, “and with his throat slit.”

“Any other injuries?” Madoc’s voice was cool and steady, as though he were asking about the weather, not the murder of a prince.

“I didn’t—I don’t know, sir. I didn’t see the body.”

At the general’s displeased grunt, the boy rushed to add, “But—at the time of my departure, they were just going to fetch a royal physician. They’ll have the report by now, I’m sure.”

“Hmph,” Madoc responded. “I’ll just have to go and find out for myself. Dismissed.”

As the imp bowed and turned to leave, Jude found herself blurting, “Wait!” the word coming out before she had a chance to think better of it.

The imp halted, glancing first at Madoc, who shrugged, and then at her.

“What about Prince Cardan?” she asked. “Has there been any news of him?”

The cat on her lap stirred slightly, his paws kneading into her legs at the mention of the disfavoured prince’s name.

“Not to my knowledge,” the boy said, shaking his head, and Jude felt her heart drop.

She nodded her thanks as the messenger bowed again and left, not trusting herself to speak through the tightening of her throat or the worry washing through her. For all he’d done to her, for all that he was her worst enemy, she never would have wished him dead.

Madoc’s commanding rumble broke through her fear. “Go and have the stablehands prepare me a mount,” he said. His eyes glared into hers as he repeated, “One mount.”

“I’m not—” Jude started, her fists clenching, but she swallowed her protest. There was no point in saying anything—he’d already made it clear that he wouldn’t allow her to come.

“Fine,” she said instead, and gathered her cat up as she left.

~ ~ ~

Jude did not go to the stables, but instead marched straight to her room, the heels of her boots clicking on the wooden floors. She caught a servant along the way to demand a mount be made ready for Madoc, and then set about preparing for her own trip to the palace.

As she strapped her sword belt to her waist and hid daggers under her sleeves, she kept glancing sidelong at the little cat pacing her floor. His tail lashed viciously with each step, his eyes bright. He must sense her own agitation.

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I’m just worried. But I’m not staying home until Madoc brings word. For all I know, he’ll leave out all of the most important details to keep me from getting involved.” She scowled. “I’m not a child anymore. And I’m going to find out what happened to Cardan.”

The cat meowed and when she glanced over he met her eyes full on with his own amber bright glare. She could have sworn he’d sounded annoyed as she glared back at him, trying not to let her unnerve show. It wasn’t natural how human he seemed sometimes.

With a deep, steadying breath, she strapped the last sheath to her thigh and double checked the blade before sliding it into place.

She glanced at her cat again. “Are you coming?”

He mewed and clambered up her clothes, his claws pricking her skin.

“I swear you do that on purpose,” she grumbled as she checked out her window.

In the distance, Madoc was galloping astride a dark horse, almost at the edge of the Milkwood. By the time she had a mount saddled, he would be too far ahead to notice her.

With the cat slunk over her shoulders like a warm scarf, she made her way down to the stables and chose a light-footed creature reminiscent of a reindeer with glassy eyes and long fangs on either side of its mouth.

She made good time through the woods, her mount swift and smooth as it dodged trees and leapt fallen logs. The cat perched on the saddle before her, little face upturned in the wind, eyes slitted in pleasure, and Jude would have joined him had there not been a knot in her stomach at the possibility of Cardan being dead.

When the palace of Elfhame came into view, she pulled her mount to a stop and left it to graze out of view. Though it would have been quicker, coming careening up to the castle on the back of a fanged reindeer would be far from inconspicuous.

She continued on foot, the cat riding on her shoulders once again until they neared the base of the hill where the entrance was hidden by humming magic.

Two guards stood watch today, a precaution to keep unwanted visitors out after the news of Prince Dain’s murder. She had planned to enter quietly, but that may be impossible now.

As Jude drew closer, the guards moved in unison, drawing their weapons.

“What business do you have at the palace?" the taller of the two asked.

Jude lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. “I’m here with General Madoc,” she declared, to which the shorter guard snickered.

“Sure you are, mortal.”

The taller one shook her head. “The general specifically stated that he came alone.”

Jude fought the urge to clench her fists as the guards remained unmoving. “I need to see him,” she tried, “it’s important.”

“There’s nothing we can do about that,” the short guard drawled. “No one’s allowed in or out without explicit orders.”

The taller one shrugged apologetically. “Sorry. We can take a message, if you like.”

Jude shook her head, already turning away with a mumbled excuse, when her cat leapt off her shoulder and disappeared into the hill.

“Hey!” she called after him, moving to follow, but the guards stepped in front of her.

“You can’t go in.”

“But my cat—”

“You live in the general’s household?” the taller guard asked.

“Yes.”

“We’ll make sure the cat gets sent back with him if we see it again.”

She ground her teeth but nodded. “Fine. Guess I’m leaving then.”

“Guess you are,” the shorter guard challenged.

She fought the urge to say something smart back, or draw her sword on him, and instead walked around the hill.

“Where are you going now?” one of the guards called.

Nosy, she thought, but yelled back, “Visiting a friend,” and rounded the base of the hill until she was out of their view.

There had to be another way in, and so long as there was one, she would find it. She paced a half circle around the side of the hill opposite the guards, searching for another illusioned entrance or tunnel, a servants’ door—nothing.

Jude was just about to give up when she heard a triumphant, “Mrrrow!” from somewhere above. It was her cat, his little black head poking out an open window halfway up the hill.

“You genius little kitty!” she praised him, jogging up the sloping earth and climbing through the round window. As she eased the wood-bordered glass pane shut again, she whispered, “I didn’t even know these opened.”

The cat purred, looking decidedly smug, and Jude marvelled again at his strangeness.

“You don’t happen to know the way to the dungeons too, do you?” she asked, half jokingly.

He chirped and wound around her leg before trotting out of the room.

~ ~ ~

Jude entered the dungeons on quiet feet, trailing after the little black cat. The moment his paws touched the cold stone he yelped and leapt back onto her shoulders, his claws digging in.

“Spoiled rotten,” she accused him. “You have twice as many legs as me, you know. If anything you should be the one doing the carrying.”

She could have sworn he stuck his tongue out at her in response, or maybe it was just a coincidence, so she blew in his face.

The dungeon was mostly empty, with the few cells that were filled being deeper down. She supposed crimes weren’t oft committed in a land were a forceful promise was binding. Or, Jude thought as her eyes caught on an executioner’s sword mounted on the wall, maybe there was a darker reason.

She tried not to shiver in the damp air as she stalked past rows of cells, her eyes scanning the shadows for a pixie girl in a gown fit for a revel.

When at last she stopped before a small figure in a dirty gown, the cat sprung from her shoulders to stand, hissing and hackles raised, before the bars.

Behind the bars, the pixie sat up from where she was lounging on her straw palette, a laugh spilling from her lips, bitter and grating to Jude’s ears.

“Well, hello again,” the prisoner smirked, ruby red eyes flashing in the low light. “It looks like you came back to find me. You miss me that much?”

Jude tried to hide the confusion swirling inside her as she picked up her yowling cat. “We’ve never met,” she stated, to which the pixie laughed again.

“Not everything’s about you, love.” Her eyes locked on the cat as she jerked her chin at it. “Cat bring you here?”

Jude frowned. “Leave him out of it.”

“Alright, if you insist,” she shrugged. “So what do you want? Because as much as I’d like to think you came just to visit, I find it hard to believe you would appreciate my company so much—especially since we’ve never met.”

Jude shifted. She hadn’t thought about what she was going to actually say once she got here—ask nicely for the return of the prince? Grab the prisoner through the bars and shake her? Instead, Jude steeled herself and dove straight in, barrelling through both tact and diplomacy in one fell swoop.

“I have questions.”

“And what makes you think I have answers?”

“I already know you’re connected to Cardan’s disappearance,” she said, stepping closer, “and you’re going to tell me where he is.”

“Oh?” Red brows lifted over honey gold skin as the prisoner regarded Jude with some interest. “Am I now?”

“Yes, you are.” Jude ground the words out through gritted teeth, resisting the urge to lay her hand on her sword hilt as the pixie seemingly considered her options. Finally, she leaned back on her straw palette like it was the most comfortable bed in the world.

“No.” Her tone was flat, void of emotion, but there was a flicker of something—anger? Regret?—behind her eyes.

“I’m not asking,” Jude said, meeting the pixie’s glare.

“Oh, but I think you are. What else are you going to do? Threaten me? I’m already behind bars, darling, and you snuck in here. As soon as I called for a guard, you’d have to run, or risk being caught.”

Jude thought about bluffing or lying her way out of the trap, but curiosity got the better of her.

“How did you know I snuck in?”

“I didn’t, for sure, until just now,” the pixie responded, and Jude cursed herself for her stupidity. “I’d guessed it, because you have no uniform and no keys, and because no one ever enters from that direction.” She gestured down the hall where Jude had come from minutes prior. “And because the castle already came to see me today.”

At Jude’s frown, the girl elaborated with a roll of her eyes.

“They come down here every single day to ask me if I’m ready to tell them what I did with our dearest Prince Cardan, and every single day I tell them no, I’m not ready, I’m still literally unable to talk about anything I’ve done EVEN IF I WANTED TO, because I’m under a damn OATH!”

She threw her hands up in frustration before covering her face with her arms, huffing a sigh before continuing. “And then they walk away and tell me well then, no food until you’re ready to talk, and I always scream my worst insults at them as they leave, which I have to admit makes me feel just a teeny bit better.”

She sat up and met Jude’s eyes with a shrug. “I mean, it’s not nice of me, but I think I deserve it after all this.” She gestured to the mildew damp walls and bounced a bit on the creaky bed.

A pang of sympathy wormed its way into Jude’s heart, but she shut it out.

“How are you not dead?” she asked. “You have to have said something or you’d have starved by now.”

The girl laughed again. “Oh, but that’s the beauty of it! See, this cell is enchanted specially by High King Eldred himself.” Her eyes flashed and her smile faltered, so momentarily Jude could almost have been convinced it didn’t happen. Almost.

“Once you step inside, you can feel as hungry or as thirsty as you like, but you’ll never die from it. It’s a special kind of torture,” the pixie grimaced.

Jude swallowed the pity rising in her throat and lifted her chin. “Well, you probably deserved it. You’re a murderer afterall.”

“I—” the girl began to protest, but she stopped before she could say anymore. A moment passed before she coughed.

“Like I said, I can’t tell you anything about what I’ve done, but I can tell you that if I had been given a choice, I wouldn’t have gone after Cardan.”

“And Dain?”

“Dain?” the pixie echoed. “What about him?”

“They found him murdered this evening. Did you go after him?”

“What?” If the look of utter shock on the pixie’s face hadn’t convinced Jude, her next words did: “I didn’t kill Dain. You know I can’t lie, so you believe me, right? You know I’m telling the truth.”

Slowly, Jude nodded. “I believe you.”

“Listen: I can’t tell you what I did to Cardan, or why, or who I work for, but I can tell you this,” the pixie said, moving to stand by the bars.

“Desires sometimes take unexpected forms, but chasing them does no good when they’re already within your grasp. Cardan is closer than you think, but there is a power that will always hunger, and if you don’t stop it soon, it’ll devour not only your prince, but the rest of Faerie as well.”

Silence fell over the jail like a blanket, disturbed only by the drip, drip, drip of water.

Finally, the prisoner raised red brows. “So?”

“Thank you so much, that was so helpful and I now know everything,” Jude declared flatly.

The pixie girl sighed and propped her fists on the soiled waist of her gown. “You can be sarcastic all you want, babe, but I swear, that was as much as I can tell you—you know, binding oath and all? I mean, have you not been listening this entire conversation?”

The cat on her shoulder mewed and Jude glared at him sidelong.

“Whose side are you on?” she huffed, to which he meowed again and lashed his tail.

“Alright, fine.” Jude pressed her lips into a thin line as she turned back to face the girl in the cell. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

With the cat on her shoulder, Jude stalked out of the palace the same way she’d come in.

~ ~ ~

Cardan sat on the windowsill of Jude’s room, watching as the sun began to creep above the horizon, painting the sky in the golden light of dawn. Behind him, Jude was deep in slumber, snoring softly into her pillow, but with everything that had happened today, he couldn’t sleep.

Dain was gone and the palace was in shambles—he’d seen as much when he’d slipped inside. Guards had been everywhere, servants carrying cleaning supplies milled about, and curious courtiers had drifted through the halls, trying to catch a glimpse of what had happened.

When he’d passed by the library, Cardan had paused, resisting the urge to enter. When he breathed in, he’d nearly vomited.

Scents were much stronger to his cat nose, and through the must of old books and scrolls, beneath the scent of centuries of dust, he had smelled the cooling blood of his brother as it seeped into the carpets. It had taken all his willpower not to collapse in his sorrow.

The blankets rustled from inside the room and Jude’s groggy voice reached his ears.

“Kitty? What’re you doin’?”

He glanced at her over his shoulder and gave her a soft mrrm of amusement. Her hair was escaping its braid and dried drool had left a trail down her cheek.

“Come here, kitty,” she crooned, patting the blankets, and Cardan complied, slinking across the room to curl up in the curve of her arm.

Jude’s fingers played in the fluff around his neck and he couldn’t help but purr into the silence. He’d always been disgusted by how much he craved her touch, but he’d discovered of late that her fingers scratching his jaw or playing with his fur was one of his favourite things. He blamed Pellia’s cat curse.

They stayed that way for a long while, Jude stroking his fluff and his purrs warming the ever-lightening room.

When he twisted his face up to look at her, she brushed a kiss to his nose before settling into her pillows and pulling him closer. If cats could blush, he would have been bright pink.

“Sleep tight, kitty,” Jude whispered. “You’re safe here.”

And Cardan knew she was right.

***

A/N: Hello, loves! Thanks for reading and I hope you liked it!! I'm sorry this was a bit late, as I said earlier I struggled with this chapter so much. Thank you all so much for your support though, reading your lovely comments was a big motivation to get this chapter written, and I can say with absolute certainty that I would have given up long ago if it weren't for your kind feedback. I'm sending lots of love to all of you!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

Tagging: @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @greenbriarxrose @bookavert @queen-of-demons-and-hell @theviolettulip @lysandra-ghost-leopard @playlistmusings @localgoof @garnet-babe @iamaprincessallgirlsare

[bjy-on-ao3]

Kinktober 2021, Day 2

(As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.) This is more magical aphrodisiacs than a physical one, but I think it still fits. Had been tossing this around for a bit, as well as how I wanted to end it. I’d like to write more with Urianger, but, as much as I love him, his dialogue really breaks my brain mostly (and in saying that I hope the dialogue here is suitable!). Summary Practicing archaic spells is risky at best when done in a proper setting safe from tampering or reasonable error. When mischievous pixies or illusions get involved, things can go rather awry, even for an experienced caster.

Tags/Warnings Aphrodisiacs, Kinktober, Kinktober 2021, Magic, Oneshot, Prompt, Reader-Insert, Sex Pollen, Slightly Dubious Consent

Kinktober 2021, 02: Aphrodisiacs (Reader x Urianger Augurelt)

It was a day not unlike many others. Well, at least a day in the life of the champion who served some goddess of light and carried on their shoulders the fate of not just one world, but many. You had been granted a blessed respite among the numerous tasks that needed tending, thank the Twelve. Though, that respite didn’t mean you could afford to simply lie idle in the meantime. No, even on a day of rest, there were preparations to attend to, subjects to learn and study. Preparations that ought to give you a greater chance of success in your seemingly impossible ordeals.

Your preparations had taken you to Lydha Lran that day, home of the fae, to the little cottage estate that Urianger had taken up residence in during his time among the pixies. There had been some ancient, ritualistic spell, many eons old, unearthed from among the multitude of equally old tomes. You were unsure whether it had been Urianger’s discovery alone, or the pixies or nu mou had a hand in things as well. Whatever the case, Urianger seemed confident in the spell’s beneficial nature.

You had agreed without hesitations. After all, why shouldn’t you trust your fellow scions and dear friend? True enough, Urianger had been guilty of grand falsehoods in the past, but they had always been for the greater means to aid the scions and keep the world from calamity. Through all that, his loyalty had been proven unwavering.

With the assurance of your steadfast trust in mind, you had met him at his little home away from home one morning, not long after the sun had peeked past the horizon. As usual, it took some fussing with the pixies, over yourself and Urianger before they had been eventually convinced to disperse and grant you some privacy and silence. You had to admit, though, that it was always rather cute just how fond of the elezen man the pixies were.

Everything necessary for the spell had been gathered before and was carefully put into place around the room, to the finest detail and marking. Standing amidst glyphs and drawings, surrounded by tables, books, shelves, and various research aids, you cast a subtle glance toward Urianger. His nose pointed toward the pages of the ancient book, concentration written across his features. He ran his fingers lightly over the page, and his lips subtly, as if becoming better acquainted with the words staring back at him from the archaic tome. He paused briefly, before seeming to read a line over once more.

As he turned his focus from the tome, you looked at him expectantly. “I believe all is in order,” he stated, “On they leave, we may begin.”

“Let’s get started then,” you declared with a firm nod to match your eager tone.

With another swift glance at the tome’s musty pages, Urianger set about speaking the incantations, loud and clear as a bell, peppering in the various gestures and other necessities of the spell. You breathed a soft sigh to clear your mind and relax, to let the magics take hold. There was no room for aether stirred up by any potential lingering nerves associated with your heavy burden to the First and Source now.

The spell wasn’t long, its invocation taking only a minute or two, and at first, there was little difference in you. A sense of slightly energized refreshment, surely, but you had been imagining the spell’s effects to be something more noticeable or impressive. Yet just when you were about to ask Urianger if he was certain the spell had succeeded - or if mayhap the effect was one of the delayed kind - you were struck silent.

Your breaths came a little harder, sharper, and each gulp of air made you feel hot and tingly. Each breath seemed to draw down and into your center, bring with them a prickling warmth that wasn’t quite unpleasant. From that center of heat, the sensation crept outward to each extremity, to the tips of fingers and toes. Once the tingling warmth had enveloped you completely, it intensified, roaring hotter under your skin.

You were in no pain, though, and it was hardly even something you truly label as discomfort. It was simply something like a burning, a yearning for something to scratch the itch the tingling left in its wake. Despite leaving you unscathed, the feeling startled you.

“Is aught amiss?” Urianger asked, concern breaching his speech as if he could read the shock and newly spun worry on your face. Something for sure told the man something wasn’t quite right.

“I-I’m not quite sure. What-what does the tome say the spell should feel like?” you asked uncertainly, having to almost force the words out.

Your whole body throbbed now with the heat as if your blood was surging alongside it, too. It was a most distracting thing to feel, making it hard to focus on your words. The incessant heat seemed to only be fueled to greater heights when Urianger had spoken, brief as he had been.

Urianger’s pale eyes shot down to the page, quickly skimming again. Your heart skipped when noticed them widen slightly in what you could only assume was surprise. “I-What manner of trickery is this?” He flicked several pages, back and forth, as if searching for the spell that had presumably been right in front of him. “The incantation from before, ‘tis gone, and a new spell doth remain in its place,” he said, almost in a hush, as if in disbelief.

“Then what-aah,” your words faltered, the strange sensation choking your speech for an instant. “What spell was cast? I feel rather… hot, prickly almost,: you hesitated, trying to properly describe the sensation. It was something beyond prickles or tingles, rather something that had become a pulse, settling in your core and making you feel jittery, anticipatory.

Pale gold met your eyes when Urianger spoke again, and there was alarm, concern, and something akin to embarrassment. “A ritual many eons past, cast proceeding an ancient version of Eternal Bonding. A magic to ensure the newlyweds suffered no difficulties in the night thereafter,” he explained. His tone and demeanor would have seemed level enough, given the circumstances, were it not for the rosy flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks.

“To ensure newlyweds suffered no difficulties?” You repeated, turning the words over in your heat-addled mind. You shuddered when the meaning, at last, struck home, giving the pulsing and heat in your center much more gravity.

Somehow, the book itself must have been magicked or disguised until the illusioned page’s spell has been cast. It had been an illusion great enough for Urianger not to see through, and he had unintentionally cast what was essentially the magical equivalent of a powerful aphrodisiac upon you. What you felt was not some horrid pain or sinister curse that would leave you in dire straights or with loss of life and limb. Though understanding that didn’t make the newly understood effect it had upon you any easier to resist or endure.

Each new second your eyes lay on the handsome elezen who seemed so shamed by his mistake magnified the ravenous heat in your gut by some degree as if he were some catalyst for it. Though perhaps in a way he was, in a way, though you had never told him outright. Here and there you had taken hints or advice from Thancred on flirting and subtly invitation, struck down by what seemed to be Urianger’s sheer obliviousness to the attempts. Hanging around him when you had spare time or making excuses to aid with his research, any effort you could spare to convey your feelings without actually speaking them had been worth it to you. Your desires had never been made quite plain, though.

Yet the potent sorceries coursing through you now were demanding you make it clear, and in the rawest and most physical sense. The intensity with which it was beginning to consume you was frightening on its own, even if it was otherwise harmless, only inconvenient.

“W-well, undo it then!” you insisted, your words wavered, your focus directed toward disobeying the spell and not besetting Urianger like some beast in heat.

Another quicker flicker of his eyes to the page, frantic searching, and another flash of regret. “There is naught I can do to dispel it. The spell must run its course.”

The admission made your stomach sink, though the rolling heat was more than happy to fill the emptiness left in its wake. You reeled, wondering if you should just flee, get far from the one man who had the greatest effect on your desires, even if he was unaware of it. Yet, the idea of being alone and ensorcelled to be boundless horny in the trickery-filled land of Il Mheg was not much more appealing of a prospect. The consequences you faced out there could likely be much more grave.

“Urianger, I…” you forced yourself to stop, cursing your traitorous tongue, already trying to decide for you. Would you go mad if you didn’t satisfy the howling desires in your gut and your mind? Such a spell suited to assist such sacred tradition seemed far more a curse than a boon. “There is a way,” you muttered, words low in shame and apprehension.

“Pardon?”

“A way to dispel it, I mean.”

If Urianger rejected your solution, rejected you, it would only compound the physical strain of the spell with an embarrassment that would surely never recede. But your muddled brain shouted at you, compelling you to just try . Never had you thought in your wildest dreams that this would be the manner in which you solicited Urianger, in any sense.

Urianger wasn’t daft, though, to be certain, and his eyes thinned at your proposal that a solution existed. “Prithee, explain what manner of dispelling thou doth speak of?” he asked cautiously.

For an instant of indecision, you weren’t sure whether to put it delicately or be straightforward and tactless. The latter won out though as another burst of heat blossomed in your core, radiating outward with startling swiftness. “In short, Urianger, I need you to fuck me.”

The crude words set Urianger’s cheeks aflame immediately. Though you imagined he’d already had an idea of what you meant to say, you hadn’t seen him quite so flustered in many moons. His new knowledge of what the spell was for didn’t protect him from the rush of pink and red to his cheeks, no matter how much he might have been prepared. Your stomach sank a second time as Urianger was silent for a moment, looking to be struck dumb by your bluntness.

“Nay, the spell doth color thine words and cloud thine judgment,” Urianger denied with a quick shake of his head.

In that instant, you silently cursed and blessed him for his sincerity. But you knew where your desires had lain dormant before the spell-twined mishap. The spell hadn’t clouded your judgment, only brought them seething to the surface and shattered your ability to keep them bound in silence. You shook your head fervently, ignoring another wave of throbbing heat.

“Trust me, please. I know what you think the spell has done to me, but even now I wouldn’t dream to ask anyone else to dispel it in such a way,” you explained, as coolly as your predicament allowed.

You punctuated your words with a pleading gaze. A plea to believe in your words. A plea to rescue you from the torrid heat tormenting your entire body. A plea, as you had so crudely demanded of him, to fuck you.

Several more heavy seconds passed, a resolve overtook Urianger, a notable flicker in the set of his lips and his amber eyes. “Very well, I shall do wilt though has asked of me to dispel the magics plaguing thee,” he agreed at last, and hope flared alongside the heat.

You sensed as if there were more Urianger meant to say, by the way his lips opened again for a bare instant before closing again. You didn’t need to be a mind reader, or to see into memories or have any gift to understand what lingered beyond his lips.

‘I pray thou wilt feel the same once the trouble sorcery has fled thee.’

You set upon Urianger, despite your insistence that he dispel the magic, overeager to soothe its effects. You slung your arms around him, pressing your lips to his urgently. He stiffened at first, despite his assent, but the tenseness loosened steadily. Large palms fell over your biceps, gentle and warm, neither trying to urge you closer or push you back. You pushed even further into the impromptu embrace and the desperate kiss.

Urianger pulled back, and the concern in his eyes that had never left shone back at you. “Twelve, thou art on fire,” he noted.

The heat of your form then was not just your imagination. It suffused not only your skin but your clothing as well, emanating off you in a way Urianger could easily feel despite the layers between you.

Feeling your plight for himself seemed to encourage Urianger, enlightening him to your desperation. You silenced his alarm with another kiss, moving slowly backward and pulling him along with you, though not allowing his frame to move an inch from your own. When the backs of your legs met the tome-strewn table, you shifted back, leaning your weight against the heavy wood. You tore one hand from the embrace, clumsily sweeping it behind you and displacing several heavy, leather-bound tomes. The thud of one colliding with the floor caught your attention only passingly before the concern was brushed away.

Urianger’s movements remained slow, uncertain almost as if you might draw back and change your mind at any moment. As if he still didn’t quite trust the certainty of your words from before. In the back of your mind, you were grateful for his respect, even if in the forefront of it a cacophony of carnal demands screeched. In spite of his hesitation, his touch was firm, and it comforted you somewhat through the raging heat of desire, even as it stoked the flames higher. His skin felt wonderfully chill to your burning body, and you clung to him more earnestly with each second passed.

Beneath the turbulent, intense arousal brought on by the magic, a buried part of you wished things could have happened slowly, enjoying each new lingering touch and glance and kiss. But there was no time for that now, no control left to support such a manner, not on your part. All that was left was the unbridled need that bade you reach for the skirts of Urianger’s flowing outfit and his small clothes beneath them and drag them down. A multitude of emotions flashed through his golden eyes: surprise at how bold the spell had made you, uncertainty at being so well exposed, and racing hints of his own burgeoning desire.

He was only half-hard beneath his small clothes, and you seized him in your grasp without a second thought, stroking him fervently to full mast. Urianger gasped and groaned at your unfettered, brazen attention, burying his nose against your sweltering skin for a time until your brought your hand away.

Next, you set about prying your own clothing keeping him from you, and his hands gently aided you in your task, until you were bare to him. You urged him even closer, wrapping your hand around his cock once more, the sight of his lurid, flushing erection sending you into an even greater lust-fueled frenzy.

“Urianger, please, please,” you begging instinctively, the desperation taking over again.

Eyes hooded, seemingly infected by the waves of desire rolling off of you despite his initial reluctance, Urianger did as you bade, moving to fit himself between your thighs. Laying his hand over yours, he guided his head to your entrance, well-soaked and dripping. He slid effortlessly through your sopping lips, and when his thick head slipped inside, there was no discomfort to be found. There was only pleasure, euphoria even, a body high that was nigh incomprehensible, as if the magic burning blood made it sing as you began to fulfill its purpose.

[ramblinganthropologist]

Headache Relief

Summary: Alistair Shepard’s got one hell of a headache and the medicine ain’t helping. Lucky for him, he’s got another relief option. Problem is he didn’t expect to see Garrus Vakarian involved with that. Fuck, maybe he should’ve taken a double dose after all...

---

There were times Alistair was glad to be human. This wasn’t one of them.

“Fuck…”

The expletive leaked from between his teeth as he stepped off the elevator and into his private quarters. Right then he was running on instinct, heading towards his desk and the drawer that held his only chance of functioning at a lumbering pace. At least he didn’t hit the wall as he slumped down to dig – that was a nice bonus.

The bottle of pills hidden under some paper was half full. He shook two out, swallowing them with a bit of the water he always kept on his desk for that reason. Then it was straight to his bed. The only thing he remembered to do was click off the light as he collapsed face down into his pillow.

Biotic headaches: L2s might have gotten them the worst, but everyone had to face them eventually. Consider it the cost of doing business.

Colors bloomed behind the man’s eyes as he waited and prayed for the medicine to take effect. Part of him knew his chances were slim – his headache had started on the shuttle, so he was clearly out of the full range of help. Still, even if it took the edge off, he could function in an hour or so. At that point it was all Alistair could hope for as he felt the pain pulse.

Yep… he had definitely overdone it with the biotics. Simple mission, his pale and freckled ass.

“You think Miranda would have reinforced that.” His words came out low as he muttered them into his pillow. No doubt the camera she had planted in his room would pick it up, and frankly he didn’t care. It was another point of data that was going to go on his report of things she had messed up bringing him back to life. Was it petty to have a list of complaints with the person who brought him back from the dead?

Probably, but who cared. She’d left him with a functioning uterus, she could deal with the fallout.

At least it gave him something to focus on as he lay there in the dark, begging for some relief from the little pills. Thanks to his medic training, he knew how long it would take for the medicine to absorb into his system. Experience was an even better teacher, however – his biotics would make it go even faster.

It was weird – they were the reason he was taking the medicine, but they were also the reason it worked faster to relieve the pain. Talk about a catch-22.

Alistair laid there for what felt like an eternity, pain still throbbing against his temples. The soft glow of his omni-tool told him enough time had passed that the pills should have worked. Much to his immense displeasure, he still felt the majority of the pain as he rolled over onto his side.

In times like this, there was only one other hope of relief.

Slowly, the biotic rose to a sitting position, head still pounding. He went for the small table beside his bed, digging through the contents. Eventually, he found what he was looking for, buried towards the back. It took a few seconds more, but he pulled it free into the darkness of his quarters.

“Well… at least I don’t have to clean the one in my toolbox for its intended use.” Alistair grumbled to himself as he flicked his vibrator on to make sure it had enough power. He quietly thanked the universe that it buzzed to life as he clumsily unbuckled his belt, then slid out of his pants and upper layer of boxers. At some point, his packer slipped and hit the ground, but he didn’t care. Right then, it was in the way of pulling down his inner layer of underwear.

He lay back on his pillow, naked from the waist down. Usually, he would pull his blanket over so the Illusive Man didn’t get a show, but right then his brain was overriding whatever sense of shame he had left in him. The bastard could get what he paid for as he flicked the power to a medium setting and then applied it. The vibration soon started to flood through his body as he closed his eyes and waited.

This was always the most boring part. Unlike most people, Alistair didn’t watch porn. He didn’t see anything wrong with it, mind you, he just had no interest. The one time he had tried, he had wound up trying to piece together how it had been edited during one of the more heated moments between the actors on screen. By the time he had realized he had been trying to masturbate, his vibrator had long since died and he was long beyond his occasional need to get off.

Such was the fate of one on the asexual spectrum, he supposed.

“Damn it, can’t this go any faster?”

Alistair grumbled as he flicked the setting a little higher than he normally preferred. Then he shifted positions, pressing it a little harder in the hopes that might do something. The sensation was definitely building in his stomach, but it wasn’t nearly to the point he needed.

He sighed, closing his eyes once more. This was probably the point people made something up if they had nothing to watch. He had certainly tried in the past, particularly in his teens. However, those flimsy fantasies never really held up, and more often than not faded to the blackness of the inside of his eyelids within a few seconds. Whether that was because it didn’t work or he was just really bad at constructing sexy scenarios, he didn’t know.

At least it would be able to distract him while he waited for the vibrator to do its thing…

“Come on, think. You’re surrounded by muscular men literally every day, you have to have something in there to work with.”  

Of course, those people were under him now. It made it a little hard to picture anyone like them… under him. Such was the downside of being a commanding officer: anyone on ship was off limits.

…

Well, technically he WAS still considered dead by the Alliance…

“I am only considering this because I need something to focus on other than the damn ceiling.”

Alistair sighed as he did his best to try and imagine someone based on the people around him. Like always, a body slowly materialized with plenty of muscle underneath him, fully erect and ready to go. It didn’t have a face – it never did, thank God – and something about the skin seemed rather plastic-like. More importantly… they were kind of a dead fish. Even as he imagined himself lowering onto the dick, there was no reaction.

It was because he was still a virgin, wasn’t it? He knew he should’ve paid more attention to that porn, but could you blame him? He just HAD to know what kind of camera they were using to film the climax scenes, it worked so well in low light…

“Damn it, Alistair, fucking focus on the fucking…”

But it was no good – the plastic body remained lukewarm, vaguely thrusting in time with the vibrator pressed against his oft ignored clit.  He was right back to where he had started, and his head still pounded. Sighing, Alistair shut off his vibrator and sat up. As soon as he did, his omni-tool began to beep.

54.

“Great. My head hurts, and I’m hypo.” He didn’t bother with fitting his packer back into his underwear. Instead, the Spectre grabbed his boxers and padded over to his emergency sugar supply. A small pile of pixie stick wrappers soon formed as he tried not to mope too much about his inability to fix his headache. At least the sugar made his lips stop feeling numb, but it wasn’t like he had to use them right then.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and dislodging the rubber band holding it back in the process. “Guess I’ll just try to sleep it off without the added headache relief.”

That was the great thing about being on the ace side of life – no lingering horniness thanks to his inept abilities.

With another sigh, Alistair made his way back to his bed. This time, he slid under the covers and closed his eyes. His head still pounded, but in the quiet of his quarters he found it a little easier to slip into sleep.

---

“Commander…”

“Vakarian, keep on. That’s an order.”

The body beneath him was hot, almost uncomfortably so. Without skin, the surface was hard and a little rocky where plates joined together. It was a little slick too, and not just because of the lube – carapaces were a fucking slip and slide in the bedroom if you weren’t ready for the angles. It was a little uncomfortable, but with positioning - and a little flexibility - things went where they needed to go.

The turian’s eyes were cloudy with blown pupils. He was breathing hard, grasping at the sheets. His erection had long since shown itself, now buried deep.  When he rubbed against it, the collision of their hips made him whimper.

“I can’t hold it much longer…”

He smirked and leaned closed to the strange neck ahead of him, lips barely ghosting against the hard skin. “Are you giving out on me, Vakarian?”

“N-no, sir…” He was panting, trying to rub. But there would be none of that. Alistair shifted his position to make sure he couldn’t find the relief. Beneath him, Garrus whimpered again, and his mandibles fluttered once more.

It was here that he took his time, carefully biting at the sensitive parts of the turian’s neck. The whimpering got so high pitched that the translator couldn’t work with it anymore, and his natural voice broke through. There was something primal about it, and even though he didn’t have full command of the words, it was enough to get him to smirk as he stopped biting and ran a carful finger between two plates.

“What was that?”

Garrus’ voice was breathy when the translator finally kicked in. “N-nothing, sir…”

His grip was iron on the sheets, and his entire body was trembling. There was the point of climax, and then there it was past it. Clearly, he was edging towards the latter. Alistair nodded as he shifted his position, lowering a bit more. Beneath him, Garrus whimpered again.

“You know what you have to say, Vakarian.”

The turian took a shaky breath, eyes so wide they reminded him of a cat. “Yes, Commander…”

Another shaky breath. “Permission to come aboard?”

It was at this point that Alistair shifted again, fully lowering himself against the turian’s sensitive member, nudging his head close to where he heard best. “Permission granted, Vakarian.”

With that, he rubbed the space between plates one last time, working a nail into right where it was the most sensitive. Beneath him, Garrus shuddered as he finally climaxed, his entire body shaking from the force. All the while, he held on, feeling the vibrations and pulse of the turian’s orgasm.

It was at this point he rolled off to protect himself from the withdrawal. The bad thing about turians was that their anatomy was all internal, regardless of gender. That meant Garrus needed to remove the condom before things got stuck and required an embarrassing visit to a doctor for removal.

“Sir… I…”

Alistair carefully removed the condom for the shaking turian, tossing it to the trash. “Can’t have you out of service, Vakarian.”

“Thank you…” Garrus’ voice was still shaky and going in and out of the translator, but his eyes were more focused. “And you, sir?”

This was the point the turian’s careful hand reached toward him, pausing. He knew better. But right then, Alistair allowed it with a nod. Cautious talons soon found his clit, already slick from a combination of the lube and his own heat.

Here it was faster. Garrus was a pro at getting him off with careful strokes that avoided the sharp side of his clipped talons. The heat was beginning to pool in Alistair’s stomach once more, but he fought back a grunt.

After all, it wouldn’t do to show that in front of his men.

---

Alistair’s eyes snapped open as he sat up. His head still ached, but it wasn’t really his focus then.  A familiar sensation of heat was growing in his stomach as his consciousness slowly filtered in. Without pause, he peeled off both the blanket and his boxers. Just like he thought, he was already wet and close to the point.

Barely breathing, he reached for his vibrator and flicked it on. Garrus’ strained voice and shaking hands were still in his mind as he leaned back and let it work. Just the thought of the turian so close to orgasm and unable to do anything about it caused him to shiver, and it was at that point that it kicked into high gear.

After a few seconds, he climaxed with a shudder and a quiet squeak of a moan. Sweating a little, he turned off the vibrations and just lay there in bed, staring up at the covered ceiling. Someone – probably his sister – had stuck glow in the dark stickers to the dark fabric stretched across the skylight. It looked like Orion’s Belt to him, not that he had ever seen it in person.

…

Yeah, he was definitely trying to avoid this.

“Man, fuck me…”

He sighed. On the bright side, the orgasm had done its job – combined with the medicine, it was easier to think now, and his pounding headache had reduced itself to a dull throb that he could work with. However, now he had a new headache as he sat up to head to the shower.

Garrus’ face was still in his head as he stripped and let the hot water hit his back. Just imagining it made his hand want to wander down from its spot pressed against the wall towards his clit. But he resisted the urge as he shook his head, water flying thanks to his wet hair.

“I can’t believe I went there with him. What the hell am I thinking?”

Alistair rested his forehead against the wall, groaning. This wasn’t the first time he’d had thoughts like this, though it was the first with someone he knew. As much as he hated to admit it, something about that kind of control excited him.

Which, given he was a fucking commanding officer, was a nightmare. It wasn’t like he got off to ordering people around, though; that was business, and he took no pleasure in it. These thoughts just popped up in his private life, in the rare internet searches he did in incognito and made sure his omni-tool was blocking everything out.

“And with Garrus… fuck.”

That was probably the worst part of all as he watched the water circle the drain. Things were better with the turian since they had met up on Omega, but there was being civil and… that. Honestly, it felt awful to him as he played it over again in his mind, closing his eyes tightly.

Awful… but also awfully hot.

His free hand brushed against his thigh, fingers finding his clit. As the water poured down, he rubbed slowly, playing the memory over in his brain. His mind kept focusing on the look on Garrus’ face, on his breathy voice breaking translation. Just imagining him whimpering on the edge of climax with nowhere to go made the heat pool in his stomach. Did the real turian look and sound like that when he was so close to the edge?

“Damn it, Vakarian…”

It came out under his breath in an octave he normally couldn’t hit unless he strained at the bottom of his range. Yet at the moment, it was almost effortless as he replayed the turian underneath him, writhing and unable to do anything about it.

Well, nothing except beg anyway.

Of course, there was a downside to jacking off in the shower. Given the fact he was just standing there, the motion activated lights stopped activating, and he was suddenly in the dark. The quick loss of light was enough to snap him out of the dream and take too quick a step back.

And then on his ass he went.

“Fuck!”

Alistair’s vision swam as he winced, reaching up to turn the water off as his ass throbbed from the force of 140 pounds falling onto it. Nothing felt broken, but there was definitely going to be a bruise once he dried off. Lucky for him, nobody was looking there anyway.

“Shepard, I detected a fall. Are you experiencing hypoglycemic shock?”

EDI’s electronic voice made the whole thing worse as he finally stood, soaking wet and feeling rather stupid. He grabbed for a towel and dried off, wincing as he reached his backside. That one was going to be spectacular.

“I don’t have my omni-tool on, EDI. I’ll let you know in a second.”

A few moments later, with a happy CGM, Alistair sat gingerly at his desk. Now he had two dull throbs to keep him company, along with the reminder of just what the fuck he had been doing a few moments prior. His cheeks colored as he rubbed the towel over his wet hair, trying to block it out.

“Shepard?”

Right, EDI…

“It’s fine, EDI. I just was in there too long and I slipped.” He paused, looking out from under the towel towards the blur orb. “Er, thank you for checking on me.”

What could he say, apart from jacking off to the submissive version of his crewmate, he was a polite man.

The orb clicked off, leaving him to his brooding. Alistair groaned a little as he felt the bruise throb once more. Maybe it was the universe punishing him. Didn’t matter, still fucking hurt as he finished drying off.

“I’m probably going to have to avoid Garrus for a little bit.” He frowned. “Can’t have that happen again. It’d be too awkward…”

But then his eye went to his schedule. His stomach dropped at the sight. Thanks to his headache, he had totally forgotten that he was supposed to check the turian’s new implants to make sure everything was ok. As a matter of fact, he had an hour at best.

He could go to Chakwas for that, right? Right?

“I’m so fucked.”

The human rested his soggy forehead on the deck, mentally willing wherever his dream had come from back to whatever hell it had generated. Lucky for him, he was good at repressing things. With any luck, he wouldn’t even think about it by the time the turian got there for the implant check.

After, though? Well… he was pretty sure he was fucked. Next time he was just going to take a double dose of pain pills. After all, with that new stomach and liver he was pretty sure his body could take that kind of beating. It would be better than the other kind, to say the least.

[crystaljins]

River lead me home | 06

Characters: Kim Seokjin x reader

Word count: 5.6k

Synopsis:  Ever since coming to the human realm when you were child, nothing seems to fit, and this was just supposed to be a simple roadtrip to help you find yourself.

Is that too much to ask for?

Spin-off to A long journey home

Rating: Teens

Genre: Adventure, fluff, angst

Notes: This is like the third or fourth time I’ve forgotten to post the chapter LOL!! Anyway, we’re fast approaching the end and I’m so tempted to draw it out because I’m not ready to say goodbye T.T but i’m also reaching the point where i can’t even remember what happens in each chapter LOL I read the cute messages you guys send and I have to go back and re-read to know what youre talking about ahaha

Also I feel like there hasn’t been enough asks about Jungkook’s role in this story and hopefully that will change after this chapter LOL

Tags: @blue1928​ @veeparkersstuff​

Masterlist

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 FINAL

As the three of you prepare to depart the next morning, Ayla catches Jin as he’s packing up the supplies provided to him. The Psittanurans had been generous in their rewards and you all have abundant supplies to last you through until you reach the human realm once more. 

“I apologise for offending Jungkook,” Ayla announces, as she helps Jin sort through the various medical supplies the Psittanurans had gifted to him. He’s not entirely sure on the function of each object, and so Ayla had offered to talk him through everything. 

Jin pauses in his examination of a bottle of sharp-smelling liquid to glance at Ayla in surprise. 

“Don’t mind him.” Jin says dismissively with a warm smile. “He has the manners of a sewer rat. In fact, if you want to execute him for his disrespect, feel free to.”

Ayla’s eyes go wide, her bright yellow iris peering at Jin in absolute horror.

“I would never do such a thing!” She cries. “Do you not care at all about your wish?”

“My wish?” Jin echoes in confusion. He can’t say he has a specific wish- mostly for peace and quiet, but the timing for Ayla to bring up a wish seems strange. She tilts her head curiously to the side.

“Is it not your wish he must fulfill? Is he (Y/N)’s pixie, then?” She wonders aloud. Jin stares, completely confused. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t say he belongs to either of us- he’s just kind of there. Like a toe fungus- hard to get rid of and painful to look at.” He snorts. 

“That’s strange. Usually pixies stay with the creature who made the wish, but it doesn’t sound like either of you have made a wish.” Ayla observes. Jin pauses as he packs away the last of his medical kit- the niggling feeling he had felt last night about Jungkook returns. 

“Wish?” He tests the word aloud. It does sound vaguely familiar- if he reflects on his schooling from before the war, he does vaguely recall something about pixies and wishes. But he can’t think what it is, and his memory is frustratingly blank. 

“Do you not know the origin of pixies? I would have thought an ancient species like a guardian would know everything there is to know about the species that inhabit this realm.” Ayla observes. Jin frowns. Perhaps, if his people had not been driven heartlessly from the realm they spent generations protecting, he would have the extensive knowledge that Ayla seems to expect of him. 

“Refresh my memory.” He says slowly. 

“A pixie is born of a desperate wish.” She explains. “And their goal and purpose in life is to see that wish come to fruition.”

Jin blinks. Jungkook, in all the years Jin has known him, has never mentioned anything with regards to a goal or purpose. All he’s ever done is get into trouble alongside you and antagonise small, fluffy dogs. 

“So, you think Jungkook has a wish he has to fulfill?” Jin questions. Ayla nods. 

“He must. He could not exist otherwise. Although, it is strange that neither of you seem to know about that. Can you not think of a wish he must fulfil?” She asks curiously. Jin frowns as he recalls the night before. Jungkook had been frustratingly vague when discussing why you had to see the river. And casting a spell to force you to see it had been oddly out of character for him. Could his strange behaviour have to do with whatever the wish is? What even is the wish? Is it yours? Why have you never mentioned it before?

“I can’t.” Jin finally admits. “This is the first time I’m hearing about how pixies are born. So then, what happens when they fulfil that wish?” He wonders. Ayla shakes her head. 

“I’m afraid that knowledge has been lost to time. No one has even seen a pixie in a very long time- they aren’t exactly common.” She admits. “The last one was probably the Saishta Queen’s pixie; it managed to convince two guardians to steal the young dragon prince. So, they have a bit of a bad reputation.” She admits. 

Jin is silent. Taehyung had been involved with the dragon prince incident, he knows, and his new girlfriend had gotten dragged into the fray too. But as far as he knew, Taehyung had never met any pixie. And Jungkook, as annoying and pesky as he is, would never do something as awful as that. Not to mention it’s been thirteen years since Jin met the little pixie. If he’d had bad intentions, he could have acted far sooner. It’s far more likely that you made a wish and you didn’t realise you’d created Jungkook. 

Still, he can’t help but wonder. If a pixie is born of a desperate wish, what was the wish that led to Jungkook’s birth? And what could Jungkook’s goal be in leading you to this realm, and to the river?

Ayla takes her leave then, bidding Jin a warm farewell and wishing him well on the rest of his journey. She leaves Jin alone in the little hut he had taken residence in for the night. 

“It’s not anything bad.” Jin starts at the sudden voice and turns to find Jungkook sitting comfortably on the little cabinet at Jin’s bedside. Neither he nor Ayla had registered the little pixie’s presence, which is disconcerting to say the least. 

“What?” Jin snaps, irritated by the way he was so startled. Jungkook stretches and gets to his feet. 

“The wish. It’s not for anything bad. So, you don’t have to worry.” He tells Jin with a yawn. 

“How come you never mentioned it before?” Jin asks curiously. Jungkook shrugs. 

“Well, I can’t. We can’t speak of the wish or the owner of the wish aloud.” He explains. “And as for why I waited so long... I guess I was afraid. I don’t know what will happen to me when I grant the wish.” He confesses. 

Jin stares at Jungkook for a long time, and for the first time since he’s known the little pixie, Jin realises that Jungkook is very good at hiding behind a smile. He can’t imagine what it must be like, having only a handful of people and some moths to talk to for thirteen years. Watching them grow up without you- not being able to share in the bonds and friendships they formed. 

“Will... will something happen to you?” Jin questions hesitantly. Jungkook shrugs and shoots him a grin, but there’s a tired quality to it. 

“I certainly hope not.” He answers, but the implication is clear: something might. Jin feels a tremor of unease at the thought. 

“Are you guys done? We really should be heading off?” You call, popping your head in through the doorway of Jin’s little hut. You’re already sporting your hello kitty backpack and you’ve changed into a fresh pair of clothes. Jin wasn’t afforded the luxury of fresh clothes, but luckily the Psittanurans had some travel garments they could lend him. It fits a little strangely given their unusual body shapes, but their tendency to make loose-fitting, free flowing clothes has worked in Jin’s favour. 

“Almost.” Jin says quickly. Jungkook flutters up to land cross-legged on Jin’s shoulder. Your gaze catches the exchange, and you arch an eyebrow. Obviously, it’s strange to see Jin and Jungkook getting along. But you brush it aside and offer Jin a smile instead. 

“Great! Because apparently the river is only a few days away! Isn’t that great?” You ask cheerfully. Jin struggle to keep a straight face as he recalls Ayla’s words from last night. 

“Hey,” Jin says slowly because he doesn’t think it’s right to keep such knowledge from you. “About the river-“

“Let’s get going!” Jungkook interrupts, leaping across the distance from Jin’s shoulder to your own like he’s an Olympic athlete. He stabilises himself against your neck and glares at Jin over his shoulder. The meaning of the look is clear enough- don’t say anything. Jin bites his lip- he’s not sure it’s right to keep it secret. 

But something stops him. He doesn’t know why. Something about the tone of Jungkook’s voice when he confessed that he didn’t know what would happen to him... it lingers in Jin’s mind. 

With a sigh, Jin shakes his head and steps so that he’s standing shoulder to shoulder with you. 

“Have you said goodbye to everyone?” Jin asks, because he knows you’d somehow made a whole bunch of friends during the festivities last night. It was surprising, to say the least. You’d never been the social kind or the type to win the attention of people you’d just met. 

Or maybe you’d just never been in the right situation to do so. Jin feels an uncomfortable pang in his chest at the thought. 

“Yup! So, there’s nothing left to do now except see the river.” You respond. You glance sidewards at Jin. “What were you and Jungkook talking about?”

“About your embarrassing crush on him.” Jungkook drawls. 

Your eyes go wide, and Jin feels his heart drop into his stomach. He can’t believe Jungkook would blatantly throw him under the bus like that- actually, no. He can believe that. 

“I... I...” you stutter, and your cheeks glow red and if the darn pixie didn’t have such quick reactions, Jin would be taking great pleasure in flinging him through the air at the nearest tree. Your mouth trembles and you look like you’re about to cry and if the revelation of your feelings didn’t already have Jin feeling like the scum of the earth, then this most certainly does. 

“(Y/N),” Jin calls hastily, already desperately trying to plan how to placate you. But then you swallow and stare at him with hardened eyes. 

“I don’t have a crush on you.” You assert firmly. 

The words die on Jin’s tongue. He doesn’t know why, but they do. It’s like you’ve just slapped him and he’s still reeling from the shock. He opens his mouth a few times, but no words come out- he just flounders uselessly like a goldfish that had foolishly leapt out of the safety of its tank. 

And it’s stupid. It’s positively idiotic. But he can’t help but think… you didn’t have to deny it so aggressively. It’s not like... it’s not like your feelings are a secret! And when you deny them like that... it just sounds so convincing! Wouldn’t a simple “huh I don’t know what you’re talking about?” suffice?

You take the opportunity of Jin’s speechlessness to get a head start, huffily storming off towards the eastern exit of the village. Jin shoots Jungkook a glare. 

“Very nice.” Jin snaps. Jungkook shrugs. 

“It was me or you, man. And sorry, but I choose me.” He says simply. 

Not for the first time, Jin restrains the urge to give Jungkook the solid flick he deserves. 

Luckily, though you have a multitude of irritating personality traits, holding grudges is not one of them. It does not take long for the wonders of the next leg of the journey to catch your eye and before long you are chattering Jin’s ear off like there’s no tomorrow, about the wildlife you’ve spotted or about the weird plants. It makes him smile, because this trip is finally being enjoyed in the way you intended it to be. 

For the first time since starting on this wretched journey, Jin realises he is enjoying himself. The sunlight streams warmly through the trees and gradually the metallic flora native to the Golden Plains starts to infiltrate the surrounding shrubbery. With your detour to the marshlands, you had essentially skipped the starlit wonder of Mountains of Delaria, but you will still get to see the magnificent Golden Plains as they are the only way to access the river after leaving the swamplands.

It’s so rare to see you smiling and cheerful. Usually you’re hunched and awkward, like a puppy that’s just been scolded for urinating on the carpet. But here, you’re bright- he’s even go so far as to say that you’re radiant, in the afternoon sunlight, surrounded by the mystically glinting metallic plants. You’re in your element in a way you’ve never really been before.

It makes a warm, fond feeling bloom in the centre of his chest. This is the (Y/N) that everyone has been trying to get back for so long. The girl with sunshine in her smile and bright, eager eyes. He had almost forgotten that girl existed but seeing her now- seeing you now- has him smiling like a dope. 

“What will you do when you go back?” It takes him a moment to even realise he’s asked the question. You stare at him, a bit surprised, while Jungkook shoots him a look like he’s gone crazy. Jin almost curses his big mouth, but then you smile at him. 

“I don’t know.” You confess. You turn your gaze to where a low hanging flower dips into your path. Its petals glint a wonderful metallic purple and when you run your fingers over them, they are stiff like sheets of metal. 

Jin prides himself on being a bit of a smooth talker- no one can be as popular with women as he as without a bit of a silver tongue, so to speak. So, no one is more surprised than himself at the tactless words he blurts out next. 

“Would you ever stay here?” He regrets the words as soon as he says them. What if he’s giving you ideas? His mum would kill him- your mum would kill him. And he’d never be able to visit- he’d wait a week and two years would have passed for you. Within a year, 120 years would have passed in this realm. You’d be long dead from old age by that stage. And yet... the question has been weighing on his mind without him even realising it. You’re so happy and at ease here- if you can’t ever settle in the other realm, does that mean the only place you’d ever be happy is here? His heart leaps into his throat in anticipation of your answer. Jungkook simply stares in confusion.

“No.” You say, and the firmness in your voice stills the panicked racing of his heart. “There’s nothing here for me, now.” You shoot him a furtive, shy glance. “Our family is in the other realm.” You remind him. “This was only ever supposed to be a short trip.” 

For some reason, his slow, stupid brain lingers on the way that you say “our family”. Not “your family”. Or “my family”. But “our family”. Like the two of you are family. That strangely fond feeling from earlier returns, but with a vengeance, carried on the wings of the thousands of butterflies that decide to take residence in his stomach. Jungkook’s incredulous expression morphs, and it irritates the way he looks strangely smug at Jin’s sudden floundering. Jin suddenly finds himself missing the time he had with you earlier, without Jungkook there to eavesdrop and pass judgement. 

“You seem really happy here, is all.” Is all Jin can manage. 

You turn to face Jin fully and your answering smile is annoyingly bright. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for years! Of course I’d be happy.” You remind him. “But me being happy here doesn’t suddenly make it my home. It stopped being my home the day that...” you trail away for a second, and your smile falters. “Anyway, it hasn’t been my home for a long time.” You say dismissively. 

“So, what did you think this trip would achieve, then?” Jin asks curiously. “And why now, right after a fight with your mother? You know she must be worried sick about you.”

You grimace, staring straight ahead. The trees are starting to thin out, and in the gaps between the foliage, an endless expanse of blue peeks through. 

“Are you trying to scold me again?” You joke. “I get that it was irresponsible. And selfish too. But Jin,” your expression as you gaze at him is so serious and sincere that for a moment, Jin doesn’t know who you are. It’s like an entirely different person gazes you at him. “I really, truly want to be happy for my mother. I love her more than anything. I want to be celebrating her marriage. I do. But I can’t... I can’t just forget about him. I can’t just move on.” Tears well in your eyes as you come clean. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been vulnerable and open with Jin like this and it surprises him to realise that he missed this. He’s missed having your trust and affection. He doesn’t know how he lost it, but he’s strangely relieved to know that he’s slowly gaining it back. “I’ve tried so damn hard. But I won’t be able to smile at her wedding or celebrate with her until I’ve said goodbye.” You confess. “That’s what this trip was. It’s a chance to say goodbye. So yeah, I’m happy to be here. I’m happy to be seeing the things he wanted me to see. But no, this isn’t my home- home is where you guys are.” 

In that moment, Jin realises something. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t realised it sooner, with it staring him right in the face all this time.  But never has it been clearer to him than in this moment- you’ve grown up. Somewhere, somehow along the line, you stopped being that little girl who needed him to hold her hand or stand up to her bullies in school. That’s why you’ve stopped looking like the girl he’s known all his life. It’s because you’ve stopped being that girl. And yet, at the same time, you haven’t. The person who stands before him is the young woman he’s cared for most of his life... but also a young woman he doesn’t know. Someone who can defeat Forest Spirits with her mind and infiltrate enemy encampments with nothing but her wits to save her friends. Someone who was brave enough to take the steps to recover after losing everything. And yeah, maybe you took a few bum steps along the way. Maybe you didn’t settle in as easily as he did. But you’re so much better than what he thought you could be- what anyone thought you could be. 

And he’s so incredibly proud of y-

“Look out!” You’re shoving him to the ground before he can even finish the thought. He winces as he hits the ground.

“(Y/N)!” Jungkook cries, and Jin’s never heard that tone of absolute terror in the pixie’s voice before. 

“Jin.” You gasp, standing where he had been a mere moment prior. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, until he gazes over your shoulder and he spots it. The arrow, sprouting from your left shoulder, right through the hot pink strap of your backpack. The blood, pouring from the fresh wound. The agony in your expression. 

And he’s a doctor- he’s seen much worse in the ED but for the first time in his life the sight of blood makes him dizzy enough that he may pass out. You’re bleeding- you’ve been shot. Worse- you were shot instead of him. That arrow’s trajectory should have lodged itself directly where his heart had been moments ago, but instead you took the hit. 

You took an arrow for him. He should be dead... but you... but you...

Time seems to slow as the colour drains from your face. You crumple, and Jin scrambles forward, barely managing to catch you before you hit the ground. He cradles you, his expression manic. 

“You idiot!” He all but snarls. “Are you crazy?”

“I’m sorry!” You gasp, clinging desperately to the loose material of his shirt. “My body... moved on its own.”

Jin has never really experienced heartbreak before. For a guy who spends a lot of time dating around, he’s always seemed to escape with his heart intact. 

But the weak, confused tone to your voice might just do it. If he’d known that it hurt this much to get your heart broken, he might never have risked it before. Nothing can prepare him for the sheer agony of realising you’d thoughtlessly throw away your life in exchange for his own. That the reflex is so deeply ingrained in you that you didn’t hesitate to throw yourself in the path of an arrow for him.

“Jin!” Jungkook cries. “Jin, they’ve found us! We have to go!” 

Jin doesn’t need to be told twice. He scrabbles to his feet, pausing to hoist your prone form over his shoulder in a fireman carry and then legging it as fast as he can, just as the sound of a Saishta hunting horn erupts in the shrubbery behind you. 

There is no living creature in this realm that can catch up to a guardian that has decided to flee. Even a guardian like Jin. Especially a guardian like Jin, who has desperation and panic fuelling his desperate sprint. You scrabble at his shirt, trying to stabilise yourself, and he ignores the way he can feel blood soaking into his shirt from where you grab at him. 

He doesn’t know how long he sprints mindlessly, desperately across the glittering fields of the Golden Plains, but right at the point where his lungs burn and he thinks he may collapse, he feels you tugging at his shirt. 

“Over there!” You gasp, and he turns his head to follow where you point with your good arm. It’s a slightly raised hill, with some sort of abandoned burrow. There are various megafauna that inhabit the Golden Plains and live below ground- this must be one of those. 

Jin quickly decides he’d much rather take on an angry giant rabbit than a troupe of highly trained Saishtas. 

The burrow entrance is small, and he’s glad you have sharp eyes, for anyone else would have missed it. But  after crawling through, although you have significantly more trouble with a blood arrow sprouting from your shoulder blade (Jin just ends up snapping the protruding shaft so that you can drag yourself through) it widens into an earthen alcove that’s just the right size for two guardians and a pixie to conceal themselves. 

You collapse weakly on the earthen floor, pale and gasping for breath.

“Let me see.” Jin demands, when he’s gained his composure enough to examine the wound. He’s still embarrassingly out of breath, but he doesn’t think he’ll ever get his breath back. He helps you into a sitting position so that your back is to him.

You offer no protest to him blatantly ripping the damaged strap off your backpack so that he can tug it over your other arm and toss it aside. It’s probably a testament to how much pain you’re in- that backpack had been a gift from Taehyung, and you treasured it like he’d bought you a diamond or something. 

The arrowhead doesn’t go deep, thankfully. The backpack strap provided enough padding to reduce the damage, and your shoulder blade prevented the arrowhead from piercing through into your thoracic cavity. But there’s significant muscle damage and if you were a human, you’d probably have lost all use of the arm. Blood streams from the wound and the material of your shirt is completely soaked. But the bleeding has mostly stopped, though your back is sticky with congealed blood. 

You aren’t going to die. Though you are weak and crumpled and pale from blood loss, you’ll survive. Especially with the enhanced healing your guardian nature lends you- if Jin can remove the arrow and stop infection from setting in, you’ll be fine. 

He feels the strength drain out of him at that thought. All that’s been keeping him going since the arrow hit him has been sheer terror. Now, with the space to breathe, he feels he doesn’t have the strength to hold himself up. 

He drops his head against your uninjured shoulder, and he feels you stiffen but you don’t crumble under his weight. 

“You’re such an idiot.” He says, but there’s no real malice in his voice- just a broken, exhausted tone he didn’t know he was capable of. 

A sharp jabbing pain in his temple startles him into sitting back up. Jungkook has kicked him. 

“Maybe you can save the exhausted lover boy act for after you’ve stopped her from bleeding out.” Jungkook points out drily, his arms folded across his tiny chest. 

“It’s... not that bad.” You grit, turning to face Jin. You’re pale and sweat pools at your temple and forehead. The pained expression on your face is enough to kick Jin into gear. Jungkook’s right. He doesn’t have time to break down now. The Saishtas are hot on your heels and you need first aid. And it’s nothing but open plains out there and golden, waist high grass. There will be nowhere to hide or escape once you set out for the river. If the Saishtas come across you, it’s outrun them, or defeat them. Jin doubts the three of you could do either in your current states.

Jin swallows and reaches for the satchel with the medical kit the Psittanurans had gifted him with. He’s just blindly trusting that the substances they gave him actually do what they claim and aren’t just hopeful voodoo, but it’s not like he has a bag of IV fluids and a sterile surgical kit handy to stitch you up. 

“I’m going to have to pull the arrow out.” He warns you, reaching for your torn bag strap. He balls it up in his hand and holds it up to your face. 

“As much as it hurts, bite into this.” He tells you. “I don’t have any local and so this is going to hurt like hell.”

You look slightly uneasy, but nod your head, leaning forward to take the balled-up strap between your teeth. 

Jin pulls out a small, dark vial which Ayla had told him was a coagulating liquid. Muscles bleed like hell and if the arrow has hit any vessels, you may pass out from blood loss. He swallows and braces himself. He can do this. He’s a doctor. He reaches deep into him and recalls the guy who worked in the ED and didn’t bat an eye at knife injuries or chainsaw accidents or that one drug addict with a prolapsed rectum. 

“Ok, I’m going to do it now.” He warns you. He then plants one hand flat on your uninjured shoulder and grips the broken arrow shaft in the other. 

“On the count of three.” He tells you, and you nod. Your fingers dig into the ground in anticipation. 

“Three.” He says, and then he yanks the arrow. 

Your answering scream is muffled by the bag strap, and you spit it out quickly as he empties the bottle of coagulant over the open wound, which is now filling up with fresh blood. 

“That wasn’t on the count of three!” You shriek. Jin nods sheepishly. 

“Ok. Well. There’s no use crying over the past.” He offers helpfully. He shoots a look at Jungkook. “Turn around. I’m taking her shirt off.” 

Both you and Jungkook splutter. 

“Why?” The two of you cry in eerie unison. You even turn fully to face Jin for good measure. He merely arches an eyebrow at you. 

“I know you don’t have a degree in medicine or anything... but generally bandages don’t include your tattered shirt edges sticking to the wound.” Jin explains patiently. “(Y/N), it’s fine. I’m literally a doctor. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

It’s interesting that despite the blood loss, you can turn that particular shade of red. 

“That doesn’t make it any better.” You mumble, even as you turn away and obediently unbutton your drenched shirt. 

“It doesn’t have to be the whole shirt.” He murmurs comfortingly, pulling out a strip of material from the medical kit. Ayla had told him that it’s hard to get bandaging material to stay in place for silky Psittanuran feathers, so they often enchant materials with a special adhesive. “Just enough that your shirt isn’t sticking to it. I need to clean it up because the last thing we need is you getting an infection.” 

You nod and drop your shirt enough to expose the left half of your upper back. Jin clears his throat awkwardly as he slides the thick strap of your sports bra out of the way and notes that it’s awfully warm in this little burrow. 

“I didn’t know they made hello kitty sports bras.” Jungkook observes from where he’s hovering off to the side. You whip your head around to glare at him. 

“Get OUT!” You snap. He holds his hands up. 

“But you need me! What if Jin starts enjoying himself? You know how he feels about hello kitty-“ the empty coagulant vial being launched at him by your good arm is the only prompting Jungkook needs to go keep watch outside. 

Which leaves you and Jin alone. The air feels thick and sluggish in the burrow as Jin works cleaning off the wound and applying the bandage. You’ve gone quiet- whether from exhaustion or pain, it’s hard to tell, but Jin has to help you tug your shirt back into place when he finally finishes. 

He crawls over to your hello kitty bag and pulls out your water bottle. 

“Why’d you do it?” He asks quietly as you take a long drink from your bottle. You don’t answer for a long time, but finally you drop the bottle. 

“I told you. My body moved on its own.” You offer. 

“Exactly. Why?” He asks, and he doesn’t mean for so much anger to leech into his tone. It’s just, he feels like the stress and fear and agony of the past week catching up to him and he doesn’t know how to deal with it other than being angry. Angry at you, for deciding to go on this journey in the first place. Angry at this realm for taking your father’s life. Angry at himself, for being pathetic enough to have to constantly be protected and saved by you. 

But most of all, angry that your first instinct in danger is to disregard your own life in exchange for his own. He doesn’t even know what answer he’s looking for- that you love him? That it’s just instinct to save people? Neither answer would be particularly comforting.

“I don’t know.” You retort, and your tone is defensive in response to his barely concealed anger. “What do you want me to say, Jin? I heard the arrow coming and I didn’t exactly have time to think.”

“Exactly! That’s your problem!” He cries. “You never think! You only ever act! What would I have done, if your wound had been more serious? Have you ever once stopped to think about how that sort of thing affects me? How it feels to know you’re constantly doing things like fighting armed robbers and getting into fights and treating your life like it’s a piece of garbage to be thrown away without a thought?”

“That’s not what I-“ you protest, but Jin cuts you off. 

“What if you had died? What if I had lost you? What would I be supposed to do?” He cries, and he surprises himself when his voice catches. 

You go silent. Your words have been lost.

It actually reminds you of when Jin first caught you sneaking over to this realm. That fight seems like a lifetime ago, and he had scolded you for similar recklessness then. But strangely, it feels different. The look in Jin’s eyes is different. He’s... He’s not angry, you realise. He’s scared. 

He flinches when the hand of your uninjured arm lands on his forearm. You watch him curiously, your movements cautious as though you are approaching a scared animal. He certainly feels like one. 

Slowly, you slide your hand up his arm until you can hook your arm around the back of his neck and pull him into an awkward hug. It’s a little weird- you kind of have to awkwardly straddle him to properly hug him in the limited space, and he is still an unmoving like a wooden board. 

“It’s the same for me.” You answer softly. “I can’t lose you. I’m sorry- I didn’t have time to stop and think but I’ll never stop and think when your life is in danger.” You pull away to meet his gaze. “I’ll always just act. You’ll just have to get used to that.”

Jin is silent, as he stares up at you. A weird feeling overcomes him, at your proximity. It’s warm and overwhelming. And, if he’s being honest, it scares him a little with the intensity of it. Like, if he were to pull you downwards and hold you tight, nothing would ever go wrong again. It’s not entirely unfamiliar, but at the same time he’s certain he’s never felt like this in his entire life. 

“See I told you! It’s the hello kitty! He can’t resist!” Jin startles at the sound of Jungkook’s voice and you scramble off him like he’s burned you. He tries not to dwell on the fact that he instantly misses the warmth of your body. Suddenly the burrow feels too cold. 

Jungkook tuts and shakes his head. 

“See, good thing I came in here. Who knows what kind of stunt lover boy would have pulled?” He scolds. “Anyway, I think you’ve had enough time to recover. I guarantee you the Saishta’s are hunting for us as we speak and so we better get a move on.” 

You nod, adjusting your clothes awkwardly and gathering your things. 

Jin follows suit, almost robotically. He can’t shake the feeling that something huge just happened, but he doesn’t know what. 

But his stomach churns because there’s one thing he knows for sure: He can’t lose you. He’s so, so afraid.