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fourmoony · 5 months ago

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𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐓: Chapter One.

After breaking your ankle in the wake of a break up, you're determined to get through your senior year without any interference from James Potter. That is, until his loyalty to loose cannon Sirius Black lands him straight in your lap. Or, rather, your kiddie-skate group.

CW: Language, mentions of broken bones, blood, physical violence.

I can't believe it's finally here. Enjoy, lovelies :)

James Potter

There’s five minutes left in the final period. Gryffindor are down by one and James refuses to start the season on a loss. He’d settle for a draw. But he will not allow his team to lose to Slytherin. Call him superstitious but losing the first game of the season is a grey cloud of doom that will follow them all year long and there’s nothing James Potter wants more than to bring Gryffindor to their fourth frozen four win in a row. Especially in his first year as captain. So, call him hell bent. James prefers motivated, competitive.

They’re due a line change. Sirius is losing steam and Remus has been favouring his left skate a little too much for James’ liking. Five seconds and the juniors will switch them out. But James has the puck, is trying to keep Mulciber as far away from his coat tails as possible, but Sirius can’t keep up. His eyes are on Remus, further up the ice, chasing Snape who’s making a break directly for James.

James bangs his stick against the ice, calls Sirius’ name. But it’s too late. Mulciber’s stick collides with the side of his skate at the same time Remus and Snape crash into him from the front. It’s an illegal play and the Slytherin’s know it. But it doesn’t stop the yell Snape lets out the minute he’s back on the ice, demanding the ref penalise Remus for shoving him into James. Sirius is there in a second, gloves dropped to the ice and his fingers curled around Snape’s cage. “That was illegal, and you know it, Snivellus.” Sirius grits out, pushing the Slytherin player back by his head.

Snape tumbles, the ref watches closely. James’ eyes fly to the board. They’re about to line change, the buzzer has paused, but if Sirius doesn’t play this right, he’ll still be in the sin bin by the time the buzzer goes. They need him for that final minute. “Pads, relax.” James warns his best friend.

Sirius Black is notorious for being The Loose Canon of the NCAA. It’s a strength and a weakness, James supposes. A lot of the lesser teams in the league give him a wide berth when playing Gryffindor. Between Sirius, Remus, and James, they have their routine for winning down-pat. But with Slytherin, it’s always a coin toss. They know how to rile Sirius, have him bench riding for the majority of the game. It’s what they’re doing now. James realises he might’ve been the one to get floored by Snape and Mulciber, but that attack was aimed specifically at Sirius.

Sirius who was supposed to be protecting James. Sirius who was too busy looking at Remus.

“Should’ve been keeping a better eye on your captain, Black.” Mulciber antagonises. His smirk is knowing, goading. James sighs and accepts his fate a mere second before Sirius is on Mulciber, helmet skittering across the ice.

There’s an evil crack from Mulciber’s nose. Blood seeping over the white ice like some sort of sick omen for the rest of the season. James looks around him, watches as the rest of the Slytherin’s approach, locks eyes with Remus. There’s an understanding there. They’re fucked. Royally. So, they might as well give Sirius a hand. James screws his eyes shut, gives himself a single second to prepare for the reaming Coach Moody is going to give him, then grabs Severus Snape, Slytherin captain, by the neckline of his jersey and punches him so hard he crumples to the ice like an empty water bottle.

The ref blows the whistle repeatedly, the team members on each bench cheer and bang their sticks against the boards. The crowd roars. And while James registers this is definitely not how he wanted the season to begin – fighting off Slytherin’s because of Sirius Black’s short fuse temper – he’s still so glad to be fucking back.

Alistor Moody isn’t a pleasant man to look at. He’s burly, with thin strands of straw-coloured hair and a glass eye that seems to swivel of its own accord. As though it’s come loose. The rumour is that the captain of his high school’s rival hockey team jabbed his stick into Moody’s eye. He lost his scholarship, his career, and he’s been living up to his name’s sake ever since. The man is moody. An old grump who James looks up to because his experience and no-excuses-attitude have helped James’ team win three Frozen Four trophies. So, the idea of letting him down sits heavy on his chest. Regardless of his loyalty to Sirius, he regrets punching Snape in the face.

If only because his coach hasn’t stopped screaming for twenty straight minutes and James really needs to get to his Econ class. Moody hadn’t said anything after the game. Had been unnervingly quiet and the anxiety of such a reaction from him has sat heavy in James’ chest ever since. He’d known this was coming. But he wishes he’d had more time to prepare. Or, at the very least, warn Professor Flitwick that he’d be late.

Sirius is nonplussed. Has been since the fight. It should irk James. Should annoy him that they’re seniors and Sirius is still pulling the same shit he’s been pulling since they were in little leagues. But he cuts him the slack he needs. Always has. Always will. Sirius isn’t as simple as most people think he is. He comes from a shitty home with even shittier parents and a shitty fucking past. So, he’s quick to anger? James allows it because it’s how Sirius copes. But he’s really over the reaming it’s landed him from Moody.

“I’m serious, this shit ends now.” Moody points a finger at them. Sirius sniggers into his fist. A tale as old as time, that he’d laugh at such a sentence. Their coach chooses to ignore it, carries on with a defeated sigh. “Dumbledore wanted you benched for the season. I talked him down to community service.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sirius’ voice sounds bored, and James knows he’s already coming up with a million ways to avoid doing such a thing.

“No, Black. What’s bullshit is that you’re still pulling this shit as a fucking senior. You’re meant to be setting an example to the freshmen! And you’re starting fights for no goddamn reason.” Moody slams a fat hand down on the desk and James flinches.

Community service of any kind is a hockey player’s worst nightmare. Especially at their level. They spend all their lives training, have barely any social life, and the time that they are allocated to actually have a life, now belongs to whatever sad sack community outreach programme needs their help. It’s bullshit, Sirius is right. But James doesn’t feel in any sort of position to argue with Moody, not when there’s the threat of a suspension on the line.

“The snakes started it! Mulciber could’ve broke James’ leg with that swipe.”

Sirius has always been someone to argue with authority. James admires his passion, but it’s clear they’re not getting out of this. Moody confirms his thoughts with a plain, “Regardless. You threw the first punch in an illegal fight. Started an all-out brawl. Your community service leaders will complete a sign in sheet each week. You miss a session; you’re benched at that week’s game.”

James allows himself to let out a long, suffering sigh. He’d started his senior year determined to actually put effort into his degree, as well as his captaincy. Now, he’s unsure how he’s going to balance everything. Fucking Sirius. “What’s the damage, then?” He asks.

The grin Alistor Moody gives Sirius and James is nothing short of pure evil. He’s cynical. James’ stomach sinks. “Black, you’re headed to the library. There’s a student writing a thesis paper, needs help citing books and the likes. You’ll help with that on Tuesday afternoons and Thursday evenings.”

Sirius slumps in his seat, unimpressed. “Fun.”

“Potter, you’re co-coaching mini-skate. Wednesday evenings and Sunday mornings.” There’s something in Moody’s voice. Like he already knows what James’ reaction is going to be, that he feels somewhat guilty about it.

The room spins, James feels like he’s going to throw up. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up and his heart races. Even Sirius sits up in his seat, eyes wide.

“Moody you can’t make him do that. Let us switch.” Sirius begs as he leans forward.

The coach winces. “I tried. Dumbledore chose them specifically for each of you. I’m sorry.”

James’ mouth is too dry to talk. Not that he can think of any words to say, anyway. All he can think of is you. Your face when you find out who your new co-coach is. The way your heart will probably plummet like his did. He feels nauseous, too warm, too cold, he’s not sure. Last he saw you, you were crying in the passenger seat of his car, telling him how much you hated him. How you never wanted to see him again. He can’t say he blames you. The thing about James is that he’s an idiot. He doesn’t think things through. Lives in the moment, acts before he thinks because it’s what his hockey obsessed brain is trained to do. He ruined your trust and broke your heart because he’s an idiot. And now you’re being forced to co-coach with him.

He stands abruptly, excuses himself into the hallway outside Moody’s office. Let’s the cool wall press against his too warm back, slams his head against the concrete. Sirius closes the door behind him, toe tapping anxiously against the linoleum. “Good?” He asks.

“Next time you start a fight, Sirius, remember this moment. Remember how uncomfortable this is going to make her. Remember that I can’t not be your back up. You’re my best friend and I’ll always have your back, no questions asked. But this? Please don’t put me in this position again.” James tells Sirius.

Then, he turns and walks away. Down the hall, out of the sports administration building and towards his truck. All the while thinking about how much of a fucking idiot he is.

Sirius Black

Remus is running late. Not that Sirius minds, he’s grateful for the time alone. The time to think, to get his head straight. To digest James’ words. His best friend, his captain. He let him down epically and he regrets it. He wishes he hadn’t, but it’s not like he can help it. There’s something wrong with him. With the way his brain is wired. It’s the in the blood that runs through his veins, that dark and twisted Black temper. It’s a grey cloud over him, the itch in his bones. It never falters, never dulls. He’s so angry all of the time, always on edge.

He wishes he weren’t. He’s trying not to be so much of a fucking mess. It’s hard. To shake that darkness when it’s surrounded him so wholly for a lot of his life. He wants to be better, to do better. But there was something in Mulciber’s words at the game. An insinuation that made Sirius’ skin burn. He doesn’t want to dissect it yet. Maybe he’s not ready to. But he does know that if he doesn’t get his act together, he’s going to go from the NCAA’s biggest loose cannon to the NHL’s biggest loose cannon, and the Cannon’s will kick him faster than he can skate a lap. The irony isn’t lost on him, with that one.

Sirius catches sight of Remus weaving his way through the car park and starts his car’s engine. He’s trying not to show his limp. But whether Sirius wants to look into it or not, he’s acutely aware of how much he notices everything about Remus Lupin. He’s point zero for Sirius. He’s always tuned into him. Notices all of his winces, all of his tics, his moods. Even when they’re not obvious. It’s always been that way. Sometimes Sirius wonders if they share a brain simply because he acts without even having to think. Will grab the ice pack for Remus before he asks, turns the heat up on the heating pads without any comment from Remus. Knows if Remus hasn’t taken his medicine, knows when he’s in pain. It’s like a sixth sense.

He tries not to think about it, too much.

Sirius leans over and opens the door for Remus before his fingers can even brush the handle. He smiles as he climbs into the car, sets his backpack on the floor at his feet. Sirius’ heart returns to a normal pace. A pace he wasn’t even aware was missing until Remus got into the car, a peaceful thrum of his heart. “Doctor Holme said Hey.”

“How is my favourite Doctor?” Sirius asks as he pulls out of his parking space. He’s never met Doctor Holme, but he communicates with her solely through Remus on the days he picks him up from his weekly check-ups.

“Adamant I’m going to need a knee replacement if I don’t cool it with the extra training hours that I’ve been putting in.” Remus grumbles, eyes following the ramp onto the highway as it speeds past.

There’s a lot of pressure on Remus. He was an early draft, before he even really left high school. He’s a record holder. A big hockey name. Chosen before the full extent of such a demanding career took its toll on his body. Since freshman year, Remus’ muscle mass has deteriorated. He won’t have as long of a career as the average person in the NHL, but he’s determined to have what he can. Lately, it’s not looking like much. Not that Remus will tell Sirius exactly how bad it is. No, everything Sirius knows, he knows through observation. Or Lily.

It’s not in Sirius’ nature to let other people’s lives affect his own. But he’s noticed that the idea of Remus’ illness getting worse makes his chest feel tight and his brain kick into problem solving mode. There are many open tabs on his laptop outlining rehabilitation therapy options, bone marrow transplants, clinical trials. If Remus saw them, he’d go crazy. He prefers to live in denial. It’s the bane of Sirius’ existence.

“He might have a point.” Sirius tells Remus as he flicks his blinker on, merges onto the highway.

St Mungo’s hospital is twenty minutes out from Hogwarts but it’s the best hospital within a hundred miles. So, Sirius drives Remus back and forth to his appointments when he can. When he can’t, James takes him. Or Lily. It’s an unspoken agreement between the four of them. Remus had once tried to hide his appointments from them. It hadn’t ended well.

Remus scoffs. “I know he has a point, Padfoot. But if I’m not at the top of my game next year, how is that going to look?”

There’s an edge to Remus’ voice that alerts Sirius to danger. They’re similar, in a lot of ways. Nasty tempers and even nastier words. Except, Remus keeps his temper off the ice. Sirius has no control over his.

“Moody gave us community service.” Sirius switches the subject with ease as he switches into the lane closest to the exit ramp for Hogwarts.

“James told me, yeah.” Remus nods, shifting to face Sirius.

He swallows thickly. Of course, James called Remus after their meeting this morning. Of course, he needed someone to talk it through with. A reasonable source of advice. Because Sirius is aware he has no advice of value for the situation James finds himself in. The situation Sirius put him in.

“I feel like shit. He looked like a kicked puppy.” Sirius hates letting James down. Sure, he’s his captain and that should be enough. But James is Sirius’ best friend. His soul mate, his safe space. The person he’s been running to since he could run. James is strong and safe, he’s loyal down to his fucking bones. What had Sirius expected when he started that fight? For James to watch it happen?

He should have known. After all this time, he should have fucking known.

“James is a big boy; he knew the consequences when he punched Snape.” Remus speaks softly to Sirius. Like he knows the shame spiral he’s in and wants to help pull him out. James isn’t the only protector Sirius knows.

Where James is fair in his protectiveness, Remus often throws caution to the wind. He’s fierce in his loyalty. Sometimes to a fault. Like Sirius.

“You know James as well as I do. I jump, he jumps.” Sirius sighs, defeated. “I should have let it go. I knew they were trying to get me on the bench, and I still let them get to me.”

Remus hums, nods his head in a fair agreement. Sirius looks over at him for a second. Just one second before his eyes return to the road. His eyes are sweet and understanding. A sticky honey colour that Sirius finds he likes a lot.

“Maybe.” Remus mumbles, fingers reaching up to rub at the scar above his lip. A tic. A nervous one, born from Sirius’ eyes on him.

Sirius laughs. “Maybe?”

Remus laughs too, head tilted back, and the sound is so light and easy it breathes fresh life into Sirius’ lungs. Lifts the residual anxiety sitting heavy in his chest as they pull up to the house. “Okay,” He breathes, “You definitely should have walked away from that fight. But you didn’t. So now you just have to get on with it.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He looks over at Remus.

Remus smiles. It’s quick and fleeting, a smile that Sirius knows is reserved only for him. It warms his cheeks as he smiles back.

“You want dinner?” Remus asks as they pull into the empty drive.

James isn’t home, his parking space void of his stupidly oversized truck.

“Depends, what’re you making?” Sirius grabs Remus’ bag from the footwell, climbs out of the car.

Remus laughs, “A phone call. For pizza.”

Sirius moans from behind Remus, who’s fumbling with his keys for the front door, “You know how to talk dirty to me, Moony.”

Remus scoffs, “You couldn’t handle my dirty talk, Black.”

And, well. Sirius doesn’t think he has an answer for that.

You

You shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty. You’ve been expecting him to attempt some sort of damage control since you’d spoken to Madame Pince, this morning. That conversation had gone over like a lead balloon; the exact reason you’re still skating. Two hours after your training ended. Even though the Zamboni guy is giving you a look suitable to someone who kicked his cat. Even though your ankle is throbbing, and Medic Pomfrey would chastise you for not taking a break. You’re technically not out of the woods yet, as she likes to remind you every chance she gets. Your ankle might be healed but you still have a lifetime of physiotherapy, it feels.

Skating is an out. It’s peace. Makes you feel free, like flying. It’s rare, these days, to skate for fun. For the enjoyment of the feeling that it gives you. You’ve been skating since you could walk. Competing since the minute you were old enough, talented enough. Eventually, skating for fun became a rarity. You love the sport with every bit of your beating heart. But it’s nice to stop the constant ebb and flow of anxiety, of competitiveness, and just exist on the ice.

James is sitting on the team benches, watching. There’s a sadness to him that you’d like to punch from his stupidly handsome face. So, you ignore him. Keep to the far side of the ice until your ankle is screaming at you to stop. James stands when you approach the bench, hands your water bottle over the board. It weighs heavy on you, the feeling of normalcy that such an action would once hold. It feels like an age ago that he would watch your practices, cheer for you even when he was the only one in the crowd. You snatch the bottle from his hand, take a drink while you wait for him to say something.

“Pince told you.” He states. There’s a hesitance on his face, readable in his body language. He’s flighty, unsure of how you’re going to react.

You hate that he’s unsure of how to act around you. Hate even more that it’s warranted. You’ve changed, over the summer. Made promises to yourself that no one will ever make you feel the way James made you feel, ever again. That breakup cost you nationals, last year. The heartache was a distraction. One that could have cost you your career. You refuse to let it happen again.

“She did. You’re here to do damage control, right? Tell me that you didn’t get to choose your community service. Tell me that Sirius started that fight, and you had no choice but to finish it. That you’re sorry, that you don’t want to make me uncomfortable. If you’re feeling extra sorry for yourself, you might even offer to take the suspension if it makes me more comfortable. That sound right?” You ask, face bored, arms crossed.

Hurt flashes in James’ eyes. Big and hazel coloured and stupidly kind, even now. “Sounds right, yeah.” His voice is thick, quiet.

James is usually the loudest voice in the room. Filled with laughter and a boyish charm that sunk it’s hooks into you and never quite let go. It’s odd, to hear him so quiet.

“Save it. Be on time, on Wednesday. We’ll figure it out as we go.” You tell him, gesturing for him to pass you your skate guards.

He does, wordlessly. Let’s you put them on and pass him through the box. You’re almost out of the plastic rink door when he calls after you. Every bone in your body tells you to keep walking, that nothing good will come from the desperation in his voice, the plea of your name. But you stop, turn. His gaze is burning, creates a lump in your throat that feels impossible to swallow. Your skin itches, your eyes water. The thing is, it’s still fresh. It’s easy to tell yourself that James is a person of your past when he’s not standing in front of you looking like a kicked puppy.

“I’m sorry. For everything.” He speaks.

“No, James,” You sigh, “You’re sorry that you feel like shit.”

He doesn’t respond. Looks like maybe the words have gotten lost in his throat. So, you leave him there, wet, hot tears falling down your cheeks the minute you’re gone from his line of vision. He doesn’t call after you, this time.

And you hate the small part of you that wishes he would.

Lily is at the kitchen table when you find her. Not that it takes you long. Your apartment is the size of a shoe box, the maximum you could afford as close to campus as it is. It’s a mismatch of your décor and Lily’s, an eclectic mix that somehow works. There are books crammed on every surface, picture frames on every wall, odd, contrasting ornaments collected over the years. It’s a home, despite its small nature. A safe space where you can both leave the stress of your chosen careers at the door. Rare, is that the case, though.

Your skates thud against Lily’s recent thrift shop find; a cream and maroon rug that you’d call nothing short of an atrocity. The red head looks up from her laptop at the noise, blue light glasses halfway down her freckled nose. There are papers, pens, books, and cups of tea scattered all around her like some sort of tornado passed through the apartment. She, at least, looks apologetic about the mess. There’s no need, though. You’re both aware of the stress Lily is under this year.

“Have you eaten?” You ask, collecting the discarded mugs from around her and placing them in the sink.

Lily thanks you but shakes her head. She’s prone to forgetting she’s human and, in fact, needs food to survive. If she could, she’d survive off of tea and coffee, alone. You flick the kettle on to boil, pull a fresh mug from the cupboard. It’s one of Lily’s finds, a quirky handmade mug covered in oddly painted strawberries. She has a soft spot for the odd finds, the things someone once loved and then left to rot in the back of a thrift store. You think she should investigate that, psychologically. Lily claims she will, just when she has a spare minute.

“You want a sandwich and some chips? Something that won’t go cold when you inevitably forget it exists for three hours.” You offer, throwing a decaf tea bag into the strawberry mug and praying your best friend won’t notice.

“You’re so good to me. Yes, thank you.”

“Oh, I know.” You smile.

Lily doesn’t say much during the first couple bites of her sandwich. Judging on how it goes the opposite of forgotten, you assume she hasn’t eaten all day. If this is her at the beginning of the semester, you dread to see her during finals.

Her laptop discarded to the side; she picks at her chips. “Remus called a little while ago.” Her voice is laden with guilt.

You sigh, push your half empty plate towards one of her discarded textbooks. “Let me guess, it was a welfare check.”

Lily scoffs. “More like an SOS call. He wanted to know how mad you are at him. Told him you were a couple hours late home from practice so, like, astronomically mad.”

“Not at him.” You protest, rather childishly.

“No, not at him. I told him as much. You know what he’s like. He worries. He’s trying to balance it all. We all are.” Lily tells you softly, a crooked smile that reassures you she’s not mad about having to do it.

You wish things weren’t as awkward as they seem to be, currently. Lily and Remus grew up together, much like Sirius and James. Remus knowing both Lily and James is how you met your ex-boyfriend. You were a group. Close knit as can be. And you’re all still trying to figure out how to navigate that now things have changed. It’s exactly what you feared when you and James started dating. It was silly to believe his promise that nothing would ever change. That you’d never lose him.

Lily reaches a hand across the table, freckled fingers wiggling until you place your hand in hers. Her eyes soften, head nodding to show she’s listening.

“He came to the rink.” You tell her.

Surprise passes across her face. “Is that why you were so late?”

“No,” You shake your head. “No, he came right as I was leaving. Was planning on taking the suspension if it meant I’d be more comfortable and wouldn’t have to coach with him.”

Lily scoffs, “Classic James.”

You nod in agreement. For all James is an idiot who doesn’t think things through, he’s incredibly selfless. You think that’s why your breakup hurts so much. Because you want to hate him, it’d be so easy to hate him. But he’s a genuinely good guy who sometimes fucks up.

“I wish he’d stop putting everyone else first. Sirius flies off the handle and James chases right after him like he’ll die if he doesn’t. And I get it, he feels responsible for Sirius. It’s complicated. But I wish he’d just let Sirius deal with his shit on his own, for once.” You feel guilty for saying it as soon as you do, but you know Lily gets it.

Everyone does. Even Sirius.

His past is mostly privy between James and Sirius. But you know the gist.

“I know. They won’t get away with that shit in the League.” Lily agrees.

You sigh, long and suffering. It’s not your problem. At least, it shouldn’t be. If the fight that started this hadn’t landed James right in your lap and made it your problem.

“What’re you working on?” You ask, “Anything I can help with?”

Lily chuckles lightly, hands you a heavy stack of paper. “You could highlight all the paragraphs detailing anything to do with cell breakdown. But be warned, it’ll bore the shit out of you.”

You shrug, reaching over to grab Lily’s standard green highlighter. It’s her signature. Like Banksy. “A welcomed distraction, Lils.”

“Fair enough.”

And you both get to work.

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maxellminidisc · 5 months ago

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Making my own post on how we should frankly all work on weight training/bearing excercises for our bone and muscle health into old age cause op of the one I saw was a crypto terf.

Anyway, its really important to do so because it genuinely helps in aiding your bone density and muscle strength. If you're not aware weight training has nothing to do with weight loss but rather is a term for targeted exercises that strengthening the muscles, their force output, and endurance. Mostly weight lifting is what's associated with weight training, but stuff like isometrics can also be a form of weight training; stuff like planks, wall squats, etc.

Training the force output of your muscles ends up benefiting your joints and bones because they adapt to the increase in mass and strength by building up your bone density. Bone density is important in preventing things like osteoporosis, which basically makes your bones incredibly susceptible and fragile to major fractions and makes healing much more difficult as you age.

As you age as well, the weakening of your bones, muscles, and tendons also makes it harder for you to balance yourself and leads to a higher risk of falls. So, starting sooner will help prevent falls, fractures, and possible fatality in the future. If you have older folks you're close to, definitely encourage that they start doing balance exercises now rather than later to help them gain some resistance and prevention for their later years or to help make their lives a lil easier if they are in their later years.

Theres tons of simple at home exercises and routines on YouTube that accommodate seniors and to some extent folks with mobility issues to regain balance or work on weight training. Routines which are fully seated or supported by chairs are good alternative exercises I've seen and even done with my mom who's now in her early 60s with knee issues. You dont have to be a senior to check some of these out and do them either!

#whats good is a lot of the routines on these ladies channels are stationary and convenient if you dont have a lot of space #and i find it gentle on the body despite it definitely working you out

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edutainer2022 · 4 months ago

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So it's done! The little story that tidied me over this week of missile hellfire and long stretches of power outages. Jeff is back from Oort Cloud and is forced to question his strengths and aptitudes when things go unexpectedly very, very wrong very fast. All boys get to feature, eventually, but Scotty is having the worst time of all. Many thanks to @janetm74 for cheering me on through brief patches of power going up.

GRAVITY

Some days were worse than others. Some days the heady rush of pure JOY and BLISS of being back with his beloved boys, his Ma, in his own home, back on his own PLANET, beneath the blue skies, breathing unprocessed air... were not enough to tide him over the bone deep weariness. Days, when the bustling world around was suddenly too much effort. Too much, period.

That morning he woke up, gruff and bleary, feeling every ounce of gravity amplified weight down to his marrow. He didn't remember sleeping a wink, but he knew he was late. The corner of the blanket peeled away, catching on his stubble, revealed a silhouette perched on the side of his bed. Scott. Already dressed to the nines in a suit that looked like it was shipped straight from the Milan runway. It probably had been. His son's aftershave was fancier and more expensive than he could ever afford or had any clue to choose at that same age. Predawn light was casting a grey hue over Scott's features, gleaming in silver highlights, making him look older. Tired. His eldest looked hauntingly like Jeff felt, sagging under the crashing weight, stretched thin, even put together all sharp like that, bright and early. The sudden heartache of that thought came out as a hoarse groan.

They were supposed to meet several executives first thing in the morning to get Jeff up to speed a bit more. To get the company brass reacquainted with the Tracy Patriarch too. There had been many new promotions and appointments over the past eight years. But Jeff could barely keep his eyes open. The thought of getting up and moving gave him a shiver, which, in turn, deepened the worried frown on Scott's face. The taut lines in the corners of his son's eyes and mouth became prominent. Much as the pallor and dark circles, belying a sleepless night. Scott took a call out in One, right off the roof of Tracy Tower. It was the fastest and most expedient option, regardless of Virgil's protests. That's how Jeff remembered most of his sleep being drained by nightmares - One screeching off and him spending eight endless years calculating and hoping (praying) the rocket plane made it out of the Zero-X launch blast radius in time, taking his son to safely far enough. He winced at the memory and squinted against a nauseating headache. Scott's worry was obviously reaching the red zone.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, then moved to press for the pulse. His boy's fingers were uncharacteristically cold, but maybe Jeff was just catching space chills.

"Dad, are you alright? I will cancel the morning! I'll get you to the hospital right now, then Virgil will fly Grandma in!"

The on the go plan was all IR Commander, but blue eyes blown up twice the usual size in panic was Scotty at any given time Dad was about to disappear. Again. He hated the treacherous frailty that got his unwavering boy so scared. As much as he hated the very idea of hospitals, enthusiastically shared by all his children.

"It's okay, Bluejay! No need to worry! Just one of those days. I'll sleep it off. You go ahead with the meeting and I'll rise and shine to have brunch with you, deal?"

Between the Zero-XL assembly under wraps, the possibly one-way mission to the middle of the galactic nowhere, and Jeff's subsequent laborious rehabilitation, the Tracy Industries senior executives really needed some quality face time with the Tracy-in-charge. So they would have it. Jeff was under no illusion he was in any shape to be that, anymore. Scott was, still. But that would have to change maybe sooner, than they both wished, if mornings like that became a recurrent thing.

Scott didn't appear entirely convinced and there was definitely a ping being sent up to Five to monitor Jeff's space-addled sleeping hunk extra closely. However, the anxious scowl softened into warm mirth as Scott smiled down at Dad's rugged face. Cool fingers moved from the pulse point to brush away the matted grey curls from Jeff's forehead. The gesture was definitely well practiced on any and all of the younger brothers, but in that moment all Jeff could see in the slight tilt of the head and a special, radiant fondness in the blue gaze, was the boys' mother. He nearly choked on a sob and covered his eyes, feigning a fit of cough. Scott moved immediately to give him a glass of water from the bedside table. Once done blinking away the stinging moisture, Jeff caught the tail end of a hastily covered wince in the boy's features. If he were operating at full capacity, he would have probably dug to the bottom of it with proper insistence. As it were, Jeff settled for a squeeze of the premium wool clad bicep:

"How're you holding up, son? Tough night?"

"I'm okay, Dad! You don't need to worry! A couple of bruises here and there. Mostly my ego, as I landed in a heap when the jetpack gave out. I'll never hear the end of it from everyone!"

The edges of Scott's "cheeky flyboy" smile were tighter than Jeff should have been placated with. But gravity was already pulling his lids down.

***

He marginally remembered a quick tender peck on his forehead, or maybe he dreamt it up, conflating the endless years of longing for his mother and for his wife even before that. The scent of his eldest's aftershave, laced with a familiar wiff of One's fumes, lingered and calmed him down. He came to think of it as home and hope over the past months. Jeff next woke up to an anxious face of a different son.

John's hologram practically vibrated with anguish, bouncing on the bedside comm unit. Eyes wide and wild, John looked all too much like an Alan Jeff last remembered - eight years old and left at the Warton boarding school for the very first time.

"Dad!!! What's going on!?!! Are you alright?!!!"

Jeff's headache still didn't agree with the yell, audible practically from orbit. He didn't master much but an incoherent grumble to that.

"Somebody called 911 to the TI Conference Room for Mr. Tracy! I can't get through to Scott's comm! You were supposed to have a meeting first thing today! Are you okay!?"

Words rushed and stumbled one over the other, so unlike John's usually impeccable, professionally honed articulation. It took an extra moment for John to compute Dad's state of underdress - a testament in and of itself of the ginger's distress.

"Dad? Are you still in bed?"

Awareness was catching up with him and with it the heavy drag of gravity and dread. His ginger spaceman was still faster on the uptake, his own overwhelming horror finally pinned on a name:

"SCOTT!!!"

The only Mr. Tracy at the TI Conference room at that moment. It all was coming to Jeff in bits of a disjointed puzzle - the overnight rescue, Scott's ashen paleness he chalked up to lack of sleep, the stifled painful grimace his son wasn't quick enough to hide. And Jeff wasn't there for him!

***

If the younger employees of Tracy Tower were secretly looking forward to meeting the Resurrected Space Outcast, Founder of Tracy Industries and International Rescue, Hero of the Century and a Living Legend - Jeff Tracy - it was probably not barefoot and clad in pink flamingo print pijamas, sporting a bedhead and an overnight shadow, stumbling his way down the hallway at an alarming speed with a formidable assistance of the wall and an occasional doorknob. Jeff practically flung himself into the Conference room and nearly toppled over several people in expensive suits, crowded over a prone body on the floor. He shoved somebody's shoulder aside with enough force and less ceremony than was maybe appropriate.

His knees hitting the floor gave a jaw-jiggling rattle and it remained to be seen if he'd be able to make it back up unassisted, but he didn't give a damn. Scott was still and sheet white against the navy blue of the carpeting. Somebody had the presence of mind to loosen his tie and unbutton the shirt. Scott's face and chest were wet as someone apparently tried to sprinkle water on him to ease the fainting. To obviously no effect. Jeff might have noticed a shadow of bruising on the toned torso, but his eyes were on the beloved yet lifeless waxy face. He cupped Scott's cheek and shifted the other hand to rub his sternum forcefully .

"C'mon, Bluejay! Give me those eyes! Time to wake up!"

Either the father's voice or the strenal rub had the effect - Scott eyelashes fluttered and a sliver of blue became visible. Jeff felt encouraged, thankful the baffled and paniced executives were giving him a wide berth.

"There you go, Scotty! Open them up for me, eh? Dad is here, Bluejay!"

Jeff moved his palm from Scott's chest to grab a cold limp hand and squeeze. His other hand never left the son's cheek, the thumb caressing cool clammy skin carefully. Give the boy a sensory anchor.

"Stay with me, kiddo! It's alright!"

Blue eyes were still cloudy and unfocused, eyelids heavy. Scott seemed to have just then noticed Dad's presence.

"Dad? Yu'came?"

Jeff's chest constricted. Of course, they were supposed to be in that meeting together. But Jeff succumbed to weakness and left Scott alone. Again.

"I'm right here, Bluejay! Dad is here!"

The pained, far-away gaze still didn't land on him.

"Yu'never come... Only Mom comes... I call'n'call an'yu'never come..."

He was feeling cold sweat and shivers raking his own body, his head was swimming from strain and fear, but he had to keep Scott conscious and talking.

"Dad is right here! I'm with you, Scotty! Just look at me! Can you do that for Dad?"

Scott seemed to have made an effort to look at him, the brilliant blue almost black with strain.

"Yu'never come when I'm dying..."

With that Scott's eyes rolled back into his head and a thin rivulet of blood trickled down the corner of his lips. Jeff couldn't tell if his son's skin went colder to his touch as his own hands went icy numb. There was a distant sound coming through the pounding in his ears - an animal-like wail of Scott's name in a voice Jeff didn't recognize as his own. Space shifted around him, bodies shuffling urgently as more people entered the room. Multiple hands were prying him away from Scott's unmoving body, but they would need a crowbar. Jeff was putting up a fight to stay latched to his son, or so he thought. In the middle of a vicious flail he was suddenly tipping sideways some distance away, Scott completely obscured from view by a wall off luminicent lined uniforms of paramedics. And Jeff's world went black.

***

[Lucy, please! I know you miss him, love! Oh my God, I KNOW, baby! I know you're all alone there! Please, don't take him! PLEASE! He hasn't lived yet! Our boy, Luce! I let him down so much! I'm so sorry! I asked so much of him, and he gave up everything! I screwed up! Take me, hon! If you absolutely must, take me instead! I'll watch over them all with you, dear! But you can't take him! You won't! I know you won't let him! He needs to live! Please, don't let him stay with you, Lucy! PLEASE!]

***

He started awake yet again with his eldest son's name on his lips, voice hoarse like he'd been shouting over the ocean surf, crashing on the island shore. Caramel eyes were startled by his roar that time. Gordon was quick to collect himself and put on a smile.

"Hey, Dad! You're awake!"

Not unlike Scott's early that morning (was it still the same day?), Gordon's grin was thin, taut, not bright enough to cover the shadows visible on tanned skin. Jeff tried again, putting a worth of questions into the name:

"Scott?"

Gordon's smile faltered and Jeff felt the heady rush of weightlessness, his mind slipping away from the tether of sanity.

"Scotty's in surgery, Dad! There was internal bleeding and he crashed in the Conference room. The paramedics said he coded there, but they got him to the hospital on time! They're working on him now!"

Coded. Scott died on his watch. Because Jeff wasn't there. He took a breather, let his boy take over his slack and his duty. Again. Scott was paying with his life when Jeff was unfit to deal. Again.

He shifted in what appeared to be a hospital bed, but the range of his movement was limited by the IV line, now pulling at his hand. Gordon stopped him from getting up, hands, weighing his shoulders back on the mattress, a lot stronger than he remembered.

"Whoa, Dad! Nah-uh! Stay put! Your BP tanked and you blacked out there too!"

That probably explained the dizziness and the hospital ward spinning slowly around him. Jeff took a cautious look around the room, but for the monitor tracing his vitals it was empty. Gordon read the question in his gaze.

"Allie got so worked up with worry - he threw up. John's with him, helping to clean up. Grandma's watching the surgery and consulting in the OR gallery. They actually let Virgil in the OR! Those puppy eyes are a menace! Or maybe Johnny-boy donated the hospital a research lab or something. Anyhow, they let him stay with the anesthesiologist - you know how Scooter's body eats through painkillers! Freakish metabolism and all! So they wouldn't want him wake up mid surgery, and Virgie knows the dosage and his stats by heart. It's good, right? Scotty's not all alone in there!"

Gordon was rambling, not pausing for air, and Jeff knew that to be the boy's primary tell for intense anxiety. He reached for his second youngest hand to ground himself as much as to offer comfort.

The door hissed open and Alan waded in, followed by a mile of ginger topped blue. Allie's face was blotchy and ashen, fresh tear tracks marking the skin. John was gripping the boy's shoulder with one hand. He had a tablet clutched to his chest with the other.

"Dad!"

Alan sounded so young Jeff's heart ached. He lifted the IV bound arm and Alan was quick to tuck himself to Dad's side, lanky teen limbs curled into a ball. The boy was not bothering to be discrete about crying again. Gordon flopped over Jeff's legs, uncharacteristically lost for words and craving contact too. Jeff waited till John walked around and perched by his shoulder. The ginger was engrossed by the video feed on his tablet. The live stream from the OR Jeff was not sure the hospital authorized or even knew about. He didn't care. He was dying to ask how the surgery was going, for how long, but Jeff wasn't sure how much John had clued the Tinies in. So he craned his neck to better see the screen and waited. Silence stretched. Virgil's massive form in sterile scrubs, cap and mask was visible, hunched over Scott's face, his fingers drumming lightly over the brother's bare shoulder. Jeff couldn't tell if Virgil was tapping in Morse code or playing out a mute tune. Either way it was definitely a way to reach through to big brother and not to disrupt the doctors. The surgery site was a hustle of frantic activity Jeff didn't dare follow too closely. At some point John's eyes went almost sea-green dark and the grip on the tablet turned his knuckles white. Jeff squeezed his shut, hugging Alan's trembling shoulder closer.

[Please, Lucy! No! Please!]

Time stretched further without meaning in perfect silence. John finally shifted to get up and announced:

"They closed him up! He'll be wheeled to Critical Care now."

Turquoise met caramel across the ward and it occurred to Jeff the statement was addressed more Gordon's way, as the blond was on his feet immediately. There was a LOT of communication between his family going right over his head. Maybe they didn't trust his strength that day. Or maybe they were just too used to not factor him into the synergy of their tightly knit world. Either way, it hurt more than he could ever let them know.

Gordon got his cue and was peeling Alan up and away from Jeff's side.

"C'mon, Al! Let's go find Grandma before she instills fear of hell into the nurses! And maybe grab some snacks for everyone! On my word, Dad DOESN'T want the local variety of green jell-o!"

Alan, as well as everyone else in the room, knew it for what it was worth - a diversion tactics to get him away. Allie could be stubborn with the best of them, and he wasn't a kid anymore, despite a widely acknowledged belief, but he knew there would be no real talk of Scott's post op prospects with him around. Not right then at least. Besides, the boy looked veritably drained by fear and all the uncertainty, and could use a change of scenery.

Shortly after Gordon chaperoned Alan out the doors to Jeff's ward hissed again. Virgil appeared like a giant ghost, swaying on his feet. He shed the surgical mask, gloves and cap, but was still in the OR scrubs. Drenched through with sweat. John was by his brother's side in one long stride. The boys leaned into each other for a long moment, their foreheads touching. Jeff longed to envelope his sons into a massive hug and let them draw strength from their father, as should be. He longed to rush to Scott's side and hold on to him as tightly as he knew how, not letting the boy slip away. He longed to console the Tinies and shoo away the haunted desperation from their eyes. He longed to ascertain them all they were not loosing Scott. Because they couldn't. HE couldn't. But he was marooned by the stupid IV, bedridden by gravity, exhausted by dread and guilt, eating him alive. Not for the first time that day Jeff felt redundant and useless, a fragile husk rolling around, causing mere nuisance.

Virgil heaved a breath to center himself and John stepped around him to head out. But not before giving his brother another quick fierce hug. Virgil seemed to be gathering his bearings, his mind booting up, previously lost in whatever he saw and felt going on in that OR.

"John, wait! Scott is critical. They won't let you in!"

John's face was a chiseled mask, a shade paler yet, if it were at all possible.

"I just bought this hospital equipment enough to research immortality. I'm going to be with my brother!"

With that he was gone through the door. Virgil seemed lost for a moment, lonely in the middle of the room. Chocolate eyes landed on Dad and just like that - the dam broke. The tidal wave of years worth of fear and pain, and toll of anticipatory grief as well as the actual one, for reasons Jeff only began to piece together, breached through defenses and Virgil collapsed into his father's eager arms, sobbing.

***

Maybe it was fitting he only got to do his vigil bid by Scott's side after all his kids, and his Ma, had exhausted themselves. Maybe it was his turn to step up, finally. Or maybe he wasn't ready before. How could he be? No amount of bracing himself could prepare Jeff for seeing Scott in the Critical Care unit - translucent and perfectly still - machines doing breathing for him, pumping blood for him, doing all the living for him. Even after That Place there was more life in his son's body, more tangible reality beneath the gossamer skin. His son's spirit was nearly unmoored, yet Jeff felt like he was the one needing life support. A lifeline. So he reached for the one that had yanked him from the brink more than once, led him out of cosmic limbo, sure and true - his son's hand. And held fast.

***

[I'm right here, Bluejay! Dad is here! I never come when you're dying, because you're NOT! I'm right beside you! Mom will show you the way home! I'll be waiting right here, son! I'm not going anywhere, I promise!]

#thunderbirds are go #scott tracy #scott tracy needs his dad #jeff tracy #jeff tracy needs a reality check #virgil tracy needs a hug #john tracy needs a hug #alan tracy gets a hug #gordon is a good big brother #jeff tracy needs a license update in fathering #thunderbirds 2015 #my fic

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sludge-wizard · 2 years ago

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List of my headcanons that are real from the movie:

-Luigi struggles to keep up with Mario for health reasons (He states he has bad knees in the opening) -Luigi is scared of big dogs -Luigi 100% swears ("That HELLhound is gonna escape!") -Luigi was a gifted kid ("You're bringing your brother down with you", the refusal to talk back at dinner, the block castle) -Luigi 100% eats whatever Mario doesn't like (Taking the mushrooms from his pasta, eating it when Mario doesn't want to) -Mario and Luigi are VERY SMALL GUYS -Mario was NOT a golden/perfect child -Luigi is a bit of a mama's boy, likely due to being shy and her needing to do things on his behalf (Giving him his soup directly after he struggled to get any bread or salad, THANKS UNCLE TONY) -The boys share a room -Mario sucks as video games but still plays them because he's stubborn -Large immigrant family living together -Mario is an INCREDIBLY stubborn person -Princess Peach is less of a ruler and more of a guardian/protector/spokesperson -King Boo and the presence of boos in Bowser's strongholds implies he's taken over their former spaces when they were alive ("the darklands. they're under Bowser's control") -The shell is NOT part of the Koopa's body (The dry bones had a separated spine from the shell) -Coins are pretty big -The blue shell is the highest ranking troop, with other shell colours indicating rank as well. -Power ups are as much a tool as a weapon -Cheep cheeps are just fish -There's an entire kingdom of Kongs, containing both monkeys and gorillas -Cranky Kong is Donkey Kong Senior, and Donkey Kong's father -Mario was not a natural at all, even if he was a sporty kid -Power-ups can actively transform the body and not JUST augment it (The super-bell giving mario cat reflexes and adjusting his joints to operate like a cat's. also a plus, he purrs when grooming himself and makes biscuits on DK's back briefly) -Shortcuts to skip worlds are real (The cannons, rainbow road) -Anti grav can be toggled, but will auto enable under certain conditions -Bowser's green scales run down his back and under his shell (it's hard to see but noticeable in the fake proposal scene) -Mario is a kart guy and peach is a Bike gal -Koopas tend to greatly admire feats of strength and power, and sparing somebody is seen as very romantic. -bullet bills are sentient -all humans are cartoony -Bowser isn't just a bully, he's actually a sad and hurt person who grew up alone and likely fought for the throne

#the super mario bros movie #mario movie #super mario #luigi #mario movie spoilers #the super mario bros movie spoilers

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ofmonstersandflowers · 10 days ago

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Blacksmith (PBSS!CM)

... of the strongest steel... (pt.2)

THE FALL.

You had always been fierce—unyielding, the embodiment of resilience. But now, in the quiet confinement of your quarters, you felt like a shadow of yourself. The walls in your room had become your prison, the weight of your broken dantian bearing down on you with each passing day. It was a brokenness that couldn’t be mended by simple healing techniques or meditation. A shattered foundation that left you powerless and raw.

The Elder who has overseen your isolation training had failed you—no one warned you of the risks, and now your body, the very source of strength, was crumbling and you could do nothing but watch your future as a martial artist die in the midst of enduring pain rooted deep in your bones.

No punishment came for the Elder’s negligence, just a slap on the wrist and a warning, no real consequence for the years of training that led to this.

You had nothing but silence, the cold indifference of a sect more concerned with appearances than with the welfare of its own disciples. You had been abandoned by the system that had once promised you the world.

Now, you’re confined to this lonely existence, a prisoner in your own body. You could barely hold your sword anymore, and even the simplest movements left you drained, your once unshakable body now a fragile shell.The fire that once burned in your eyes had dimer, replaced by something darker—something you didn’t even recognize in the mirror as you.

Chung Jun, ever the scholar drowned in scrolls and numbers, scoured the archives day and night, searching for any shred of hope, any mention of a remedy, a cure for a broken dantian. But he found nothing. A broken dantian was considered irreversible. To fix it was considered a near-impossibility. It was something beyond even the reach of the most accomplished masters.

No solution was found.

But Chung Myung refused to let you fade into the background. Every day, he would visit—annoying you with his insistence, forcing you to eat, to drink, to move. He wouldn’t let you lock yourself away completely. It was as if he was trying to remind you of what you had once been, of the fire you still had deep inside. To not give up.

But even his presence, ever the force of chaos and light, wasn’t enough to change the inevitable. Slowly, he saw the cracks form, the slow erosion of your strength. And no matter how many times he tried to push you, to keep you going, he could feel the pull of despair creeping up on you.

One day, as you stood outside, trying to practice, trying to force your body to do what it used to—what it has always done— your hold faltered. The sword slipped from your grasp, clattering to the ground with an echo that felt like it reverberated through your very soul.

You fell to your knees, the weight of your failure crashing down on you in waves. Your fists struck the earth, nails digging into the dirt as you screamed your heart out—not just in pain, but in anger, in frustration, in helplessness. You had lost—lost everything you had worked so hard for, and now you didn’t know how to find your way back.

The tears came next, silent at first, then flowing freely as the rage and grief poured out of you. You didn’t care who saw. You didn’t care who heard. You just hurt.

The disciples maintained their distance, uneasy and afraid. They didn’t know how to help you, didn’t know how to confront the once proud and strong senior disciple, now crumbled in the dirt. It was too much for most—to see their fierce senior disciple reduced to this, your body broken beyond repair and spirit shattered. They turned away, leaving you to your misery, uncomfortable with what they couldn’t fix.

Chung Myung has never turned away from you, and now would not be the first time.

He had stood by, watching you for days, trying to get you to eat, to take some semblance of care of yourself, but now seeing you like this—broken— something inside him snapped. He didn’t think. He simply ran to you.

Kneeling beside you, he didn’t hesitate to dirty his uniform. He reached out to you, his hands finding your shaking, pulling you close. You struggled, thrashing against him, but he wouldn’t let you go. He could feel you shaking, the sobs wracking your body, and for the first time in his life, he wasn’t the one in search of strength or guidance in you.

It was you that needed it, and he had to find a way to give it to you.

“You’re not alone. You don’t have to be alone in this.” I'm here. Let me help. Tell me something, anything. I’ll do anything you ask. His voice was raw, almost desperate as he held you.

You didn’t answer, face buried in his chest, the weight of your grief too heavy for words. But he held you anyway, tightening his grip, as though he could absorb your pain, as if he could carry it for you.

He would. You know he would if he could.

The disciples who once had admired you stood in the background, watching with a sense of loss. Their senior disciple, the one who had always been the epitome of strength and resolve, was slipping away, and they didn’t know how to stop the inevitable. They could only watch as Chung Myung did what they couldn’t—hold on to you, pull you from the edge.

Chung Myung had always been strong, the finest and sharpest sword of Mount Hua. But now, as he held you, he realized something that made his heart ache even more. You were the one who had ever walked by his side through the dark and light of life. And now he was losing you—not just to your broken body, but to a broken spirit, under the weight of a shattered future.

He couldn’t just watch you fade into nothing. Not now, not ever, not like this.

“Please,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice barely above a breath, “don’t give up.” I don’t want to lose you.

But even as the words left his mouth, he couldn’t help the crushing fear that gnawed at him—the fear that he was losing you, slowly but surely, like sand slipping through his fingers, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

His sword was rendered useless in front of your broken dantian.

THE VILLAGE.

The modest village where you settled in has become your sanctuary— a place where the past didn’t loom so heavily. It was a quiet community tucked away in the hills, full of simple, hard working people. Here, you ran the forge the late blacksmith left to you, hammering away at tools, horseshoes, and the occasional weapon when requested. You were no longer the rising martial artist of Mount Hua or the shadow of your former self. You were just the blacksmith, and that was enough.

The village was like an extended family, albeit a meddlesome and noisy one. The aunties were always gossiping and poking into everyone’s business. The kids, endlessly curious and full of energy, loved to watch you work, peppering you with questions about the sparks and the fire. The grannies often came by with too much food, insisting you eat because you’re “too thin for someone who works so hard”. The parents, exhausted from their own labor, often brought tools for you to mend, paying with goods or favors when coin was scarce.

The couple who ran the village inn, two robust foodies with an appreciation for hearty meals and a good drink, were always delighted whenever Chung Myung came to visit. He ate like a man starved and drank like there was no tomorrow, his lack of manners fitting perfectly with their rough-and-tumble style. They would slap his back, laugh at his jokes, and heap plates of food before him, declaring him the best guest they’d ever had.

“Your friend is a treasure!” the innkeeper’s wife would say. “You better not let him slip away!”

“Treasure? More like a pest,” you’d grumble in response, but the corners of your mouth would quirk upward in a reluctant smile.

The villagers had grown fond of Chung Myung in the way country folk did—accepting his eccentricities as charming rather than rude. Unlike the stiff and disciplined world of martial sects, they found his bluntness refreshing and his appetite endearing. To them, he was a little wild but ultimately harmless, and if his presence brightened your demeanor, then he was welcome to stay as long as he wanted.

The village, perhaps sensing your need for space, never pried too deeply into your past. They knew you had come to their grumpy blacksmith as a quiet, withdrawn young lad who talked little and kept your gaze low. Over time, though, you had softened, your once-gloomy presence brightened by years of honest work and the warmth of the village community.

Still, it was clear that the man from your past—Chung Myung—had an effect on you that no one else could replicate. Even if you argued with him or bantered with cutting remarks, you were undeniably happier whenever he was around.

“Did you see how they smiled at him today?” one of the aunties whispered to the innkeeper’s wife.

“That one is always smiling when he’s here,” the wife replied knowingly. “It’s good. They deserve to be happy.”

And that was enough for the village. They didn’t need to know the details of your life before you arrived at their doors. All that mattered was that you found a place among them, and that you seemed at peace—especially with your loud, troublemaking companion constantly barging into your life.

Though to you, constantly barging in was an understatement. “Do you ever work, Chung Myung? Or are you just here to freeload off the innkeepers’ generosity again?” you half teased as he leaned lazily against the forge.

“Work? I train! Training is work,” he shot back, grinning in that infuriating way of his. “But even a genius like me needs breaks, and where better to take one than where the food and company are good?”

“You mean where the food is good and you can be a nuisance.”

“Ah, admit it, you’d miss me if I stopped showing up.”

You rolled your eyes, but the lack of response and slight twitch of your lips gave you away. He didn’t press further, lest your hammer turns to him in retaliation. You two had all the time in the world, or so he hoped.

STRANGE COMFORT.

Chung Myung was here again, as he so often was these days, lounging in the corner of your forge with the kind of lazy entitlement only he could pull off. He was midway through his usual rant, his voice filling the small space as if it were his personal stage.

“I’m telling you, those brats have no respect! None! They think they can just talk back to me because I don’t beat them as often anymore. Do you known one of them laughed—actually laughed—when I was showing a technique? Said I looked like a drunken dancer!”

You snorted, not even bothering to hide your amusement. “Well, I can’t exactly blame them. You’re not exactly the image of grace when you’re trying hard to show off, Chung Myung.”

He whipped around to glare at you, though it was hard to take him seriously when he was still half-slouched against the wall. “And you’re supposed to be on my side! Do you know what I sacrificed to teach those brats? My valuable time! My energy! And for what? Mockery?”

“Yes, yes, what a tragedy,” you replied dryly, hammering at a blade as you spoke. The rhythmic clang of metal underscored your words. “Surely the greatest injustice Mount Hua has ever seen.”

“And Chung Jun!” he continued, ignoring your sarcasm entirely. “That useless bean sprout had the nerve to criticize my handwriting again! Again! I turned in the report on time, didn’t I? What more does he want?”

“Legibility, probably.”

“It was legible enough!” he shot back, crossing his arms. “Besides, it’s not like he’s one to talk. I’ve seen his handwriting—it looks like a chicken scratched it out after running through ink.”

“And yet, he still manages to get all the paperwork done for you, doesn’t he?”

Chung Myung huffed, muttering something under his breath before moving on to his next complain. “And don’t get me started with Chung Mun. Acting all cool and composed as Sect Leader, as if he doesn’t turn into a meddlesome old man the second we’re alone. ‘Chung Myung, don’t drink so much in front of the juniors.’ ‘Chung Myung, maybe set a better example.’ Honestly is like having a father who’s trying too hard to be impressive in front of the neighbours.”

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh outright, the sound ringing through the forge. You set down the hammer and whipped your brown, turning to face him with a raised eyebrow. “And here I thought you were supposed to be the responsible elder brother of the sect. The pillar of Mount Hua. Isn’t that what you keep telling everyone?”

“Pillar of Mount Hua, yes. Babysitter? No.”

“You sound like you’re one tantrum away from throwing yourself on the floor and screaming.”

“I’m close. I’m really close.”

You shook your head, still smiling as you returned to your work. “You’re hopeless.”

“And you’re too smug,” he shot back, though there was no real heat in his words. Instead, there was something softer in his tone—something that always seemed to creep in when he was around you for too long.

It was a strange kind of comfort, this back-and-forth between you two. A dynamic that had once been natural and easy, lost for years, and somehow rediscovered in the modest forge of a tiny village. You teased him mercilessly, and Chung Myung, for all his bluster, always came back for more.

“I don’t know why I put up with you,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a small, cheshire-like smile.

“Because you’d be bored out of your mind without me and your little escapades to this little corner of the world,” you replied smoothly.

And he didn’t deny it.

THE HOLD.

The room was dark, save for the faint glow of moonlight filtering in through the small window. It illuminated the edges of the room, casting long shadows across the floor. The quiet of the night was heavy, almost suffocating. And in that silence, you sat, knees drawn to your chest, body curled into itself like a protective shell. Your face was hidden, thoughts as tangled as your emotions.

Chung Myung stood outside the circle of light, watching you, but he made no sound. For once, he remained silent, his usual bravado absent. It was the weight of the past between you, the things unsaid, the tension that hummed in the air like a pulled string. He had always been impulsive, always charging headfirst into situations without meditating much, but now… now, he didn’t know what to say, what to do.

He could feel the distance between the two, feel the way it stretched like a chasm, and the thought of how you’ve drifted apart hurt more than he was willing to admit. He had searched for you for so long, only to be met with feigned indifference, and yet… there you were, alone in the dark, and for a fleeting moment, he wondered if he could bridge the gap between.

He took a tentative step forward, and then another. Each movement seemed careful, deliberate, as though he were walking on fragile ground, unknown soil, afraid to break something delicate.

Finally, he sat beside you. The bed creaked under his weight, but he didn’t break the silence. He merely sat there, the air thick with unspoken words, both of you lost in each one's thoughts. You didn’t look at him; you kept your head hidden against your knees, as if shielding from the world, from him.

But you didn’t push him away either. He took that as an opening.

His hand reached for your face, his touch tentative at first, almost as if he was afraid you might flinch or pull away. But instead, you remained still, body frozen, allowing him the rare access. He cupped your face gently, lifting your chin so that your eyes met him.

The softness in your gaze, the vulnerability you allowed him to see, made his chest tighten. He had never seen you like this— not in the years you’ve spent together in Mount Hua, not after everything that had happened. And now, in this quiet moment, the weight of it all hit him.

Your eyes were tired, weary, and filled with something he couldn’t quite place— something deeper than anger and resentment. There was something raw in them, something that reflected the scars you carried, both physical and emotional.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the word coming out before he could stop them. “For everything.”

You didn’t respond immediately. You couldn’t, still processing the alien words. And apology from the one who didn’t break you, the only one who tried to mend you. Your gaze lingered on him, searching, perhaps trying to decide whether to let him in, or push him away.

But your breath caught in your throat as his thumb gently brushed over your cheek, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside ceased to exist.

The tension between, the distance that has been built over long, seemed to vanish in the simple act of a gentle touch. And you… you let him.

You’ve never one to show weakness, never one to let your guard down. But in this moment, with his warmth so close, you felt yourself unravel. All the walls you had so carefully built around your heart, all the defences you’ve put up to keep the world at bay, began to crumble.

Chung Myung didn’t need to say anything more. He simply shifted, his body moving in a way that allowed him to gather you into his arms. There was hesitance in you, a quiet resistance at first, but it was fleeting. The moment he pulled you close, your body seemed to melt into his, like metal softening under extreme heat.

You didn’t fight it.

You didn’t pull away.

And in that instant, it was as though time stood still. There were no words, no grand gestures— just the simple act of him holding you, of you leaning into him, letting go of all the pain and exhaustion you’ve carried for so long.

Chung Myung held you tighter, his hand stroking your back, feeling the rise and fall of your breath against his chest. He could feel the heat of your skin, the softness of your body against him. It wasn’t just about physical closeness; it was the quiet surrender of years of bitterness and hurt, of longing that neither of the two had acknowledged until now.

“I’ve missed you,” he murmured, his voice low and a bit rough, like he had been holding such words back for far too long.

You didn’t respond, but the way your body seemed to relax against him, the way you melted even deeper into his embrace, was enough. He didn’t need you to say it back. This, right here, was enough.

In the quiet room, with the world outside forgotten, Chung Myung realized that he had waited too long to reach out to you. He had let the distance grow, fester, thinking you would come back, but in the end, it was him who had to cross the line, who had to be the one to close the gap.

And as he held you there, in that rare, precious moment, he understood something fundamental— this was what it meant to love. To hold on, even when it seemed like everything had been lost. To give and take, to be vulnerable, and to allow the other person to heal, just as they healed you.

And for once, the past didn’t matter. All that mattered was the present— this moment, this embrace— and whatever came after.

As the night stretched on, you didn’t pull away, and Chung Myung didn’t let go. In each other’s arms, they found the peace they had both been searching for.

✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

YALL I WAS STRESSING, I didn't expect the incoming likes on the first part. Every like and comment asking for more were stones thrown at me, and you've won in pushing my procrastinator self to the edge and made me work (I rushed a bit for it, hope you like it nonetheless). Every section was written with no chronologic order so tell me if it's confusing... also I realised I first published it without putting this is PBSS and nearly died from embarassment cuz it didn't make any sense lmao. I hope there's less typos, but still I get second hand embarassment reading my own writing... the anxiety I had looking for more recent fics and seeing mine pop up first made me want to go out and touch grass. Thank you for reading!

#chung myung #cheong myeong #chung myung x reader #cheon myeong x reader #return of the blossoming blade #return of the mount hua sect #rotmhs #rotbb

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bonefall · 1 year ago

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While we’re talking changing who appears in places- can we change the cats helping out with Sunbeam’s rock trial? I was so confused why the cats selected to help were selected. Sure Cherryfall because she was going to be the one opposing Sunbeam, why not, anyone can do that though honestly and not who I take issue with being there. But Alderheart was there? The medicine cat? Don’t you think he has better things to be doing than pushing a rock around? Where’s Lionblaze aka “I may as well still have my god given super strength”? He could easily be the cat that gets pissy for Sunbeam “not listening to senior warriors” and maybe with age feels that she doesn’t respect him, head of patrols, enough to warrant her staying this sabotaging her in the third trial. I felt robbed that Plumstone who seemed to be established as another bg strong cat was absent. Sure sending Sunbeam with all the strongest cats would make it easy but it’d also be making it safe considering Ivypool didn’t want the rock to hurt anyone and it’s a pecking rock. Why not send your strongest cats to deal with it?

I feel very strongly about this trial, can you tell?

I'm a bit dissatisfied with certain trials in general. Most of the time I LOVE the new trials they made, I think they've been super creative so far, but some have been so lackluster that I need to shine them up.

Namely Berryheart's active attempts to get challengers killed. Someone has to get ACTUALLY hurt by one of those, instead of them just being generally unfair and no one raises an objection about it. I did not like the spring-powered adder that went BOING out of a log.

I will say that I would like to expand on Plumstone in this arc, plus her whole little family. They're in an interesting place, with Bumblestripe coming back from Ferncloud's Parting while leaving his father with the Tribe, Blossomfall still reeling with emotional abuse she suffered at the paws of the impostor, Stemleaf's death and Spotfur raising his kits, and Shellfur's mateship with Fernstripe.

Plumstone ALSO has some stuff going on. She's besties-maybe-dating Thriftear, Bristlefrost's sister, and yet she's one of the more outspoken cats about how she's getting tired of the ThunderClan nepotism. She's strong, reliable, and a competent warrior-- so HOW is it fair that Nightheart keeps getting all these undeserved "chances to prove himself" when SHE is here, SIGNIFICANTLY more orange, and wants her own chance to shine??

I still see her personality as being "a dear" lmao, she's not mean, but she's also not willing to bite her tongue either. She will say what's on her mind, and point out unfair treatment when she feels it.

Thriftear supports this. Yeah, she's a descendant of Firestar and a great warrior, but she EARNED the respect she gets. Bristlefrost did too. Nightheart doesn't even want his legacy, why is this clumsy humbug still getting special treatment?

Good-cat bad-cat pair type thing going on.

So I'm probably going to let them both act as a unit, since BB's Dewnose isn't in ThunderClan and that was a really random pair-up anyway.

("wait! Elder Bones! Where did Dewnose go?" Probably ShadowClan, here is the BB!ThunderClan family tree. There's been shuffles; the Cloudbright kits are now Whitewing, Foxleap, and Icecloud, 3 "singlet" litters, spaced out over years.)

Quickie thoughts on touching up the trials;

(DISCLAIMER: NOT SOLID. WE DON'T REWORK UNTIL ARCS ARE COMPLETE.)

Berryheart's are going to need serious overhauls. Nightheart's were really cute and I enjoyed them, but BB is supposed to be about how her group is escalating towards violence. I do not want them to stay so "cute" for the story I'm telling.

I also don't want to keep Nightheart failing his last one on purpose. I want his growth to be more based in self-realization than trying to let Sunbeam "save face."

I kinda want Fringewhisker to get injured during one of her own, and then Antfur dies as collateral damage in Nightheart's last. I'd like Nightheart leaving to be half him realizing that his BEHAVIOR is a problem, and half for his own safety.

In ThunderClan, I'd like the boulder one to be more about Sunbeam assembling a team, almost like she's a patrol head.

Since it's her second trial and she displayed some pretty fantastic leadership skills with her first one, I've got an inkling of an idea that Squilf actually talked with Ivy about wanting to legitimately assess her talent.

Like, "We both know that this whole trial-system was just to appease the other Clans. These are meant to be easy because idgaf. But wow, Sunbeam was actually impressive with those kits. What else can she do, if we give her the chance?"

I really like writing Squilf as she's described in Bramblestar's Storm, where her good leadership comes from being attentive of details and making everyone feel useful.

Man... maybe ill save Rosepetal for this arc and let her be deputy during this. Something feels very Rosepetaly about this. Maybe even have Rosepetal be clearly treating her as if she's a Secondary Apprentice, preparing her to take over her reputation of being a prolific mentor... Nightheart comes back from his trip only to find Sunbeam with twice as much respect as status as he ever had.

I can always axe Rose later to get Ivypool in... But I also REALLY love all the Ivypool Deputy Drama with how there's a conflict with ShadowClan... man. why are there so many interesting girls.

Maybe Rose doesn't have to be deputy, but Ivy assigns Rosepetal as the only "mandatory member" of the Boulder Patrol. Like a tutorial tip lmaooo

Sunbeam: "I think I will pick......................" STARES AT ROSEPETAL, "aaalderrr-" Rosepetal frowns "--pluuuuumstone??" Rosepetal nods, "Wise choice."

And lastly. The final Sunbeam trial. Ngl hated it. It felt really boring compared to the previous two, which were super interesting and excellent ways to give some spotlight to background characters.

Riddles don't even feel like a ThunderClan thing. Idk that was a very RiverClan (philosophy) or ShadowClan (trickery) kind of thing.

I think I'll hold off on thinking about it though; I think it would be SUPER cool if I totally overhauled that last trial to make it foreshadow the later books, somehow.

I DO want to keep that disney channel ass Cherryfall being a bitch part though. I love her so much. I'm so glad she's walking in her father's pawsteps and becoming the snot-nosed brat of ThunderClan.

I will definitely be changing how Sunbeam HANDLES it though. Hate the way that the books emphasize never telling anyone anything.

In fact, I kinda want to make Sunbeam approach Sparkpelt for advice, to show she finally has a figure she feels like she can trust.

Explicitly contrast the way that she NEVER felt like she could approach Berryheart, and that so much of her appeasing, avoidant behavior had been because she didn't feel safe or respected.

Here, in ThunderClan, she has family. She begins to realize that even if Nightheart came back and dumped her, Sparkpelt and Finchlight would NEVER kick her to the curb.

So she goes to Sparkpelt about how she is being bullied by Cherryfall, and they TALK ABOUT OPTIONS.

Like, you know,

Spark: "We could go to Squirrelstar or the deputy."

Sun: "I don't want to cause a fuss if I don't have to... besides, idk, I don't want to set the peat on fire, it would be nice if I could be on good terms with Cherryfall later."

Spark: "that's very wise of you, but just remember that Squilst is a very fair person. We can always go to her. Do you want any backup at all or do you want to do this on your own?"

Sun: "I think... I think I actually do need to do this on my own. If I was being confronted, I think I would just double down if I was being attacked in a group. That was right with Brambleclaw because you weren't trying to convince him, but... what do you think?"

Spark: "I think Cherryfall's just like her father and her ego is everything to her, so I think you're right on the mouse with all this. Honestly, I don't even know how much I'm helping here!"

Sun: "Oh but you are helping! You're helping a lot! StarClan... it feels so nice to just... have someone to listen. Thanks, Sparkpelt."

Basically, tweak the trials to bring them more in line with the themes and messages of BB, y'know? And also beef up the Clans themselves, by stressing the various personalities that are at play here. Especially since I quite like how Sunbeam in ThunderClan has some super neat traits she wasn't expressing in ShadowClan.

Like... it feels like it could be a really cool story to tell about how supportive environments can make you really shine. How you can suddenly seem like a brand new person, just by having people who have your back and encourage your autonomy.

#BB!ASC #asc spoilers but like... book's been out a while now I will probably stop using this tag for this book soon #Better Bones AU

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cmncisspnandmore · 1 year ago

Text

Turned Tables

Spencer x hearing impaired reader

Summary: If someone had told you that one day you would be the one who needed saving you would have told them they were crazy. But when you find yourself going through something that you vowed you would never let happen. Only one person knows enough to be able to pull you out of the endless hole you seem to be falling deeper into.

Warning: mentions of injury, drug addiction, drug abuse, depression, overdose, chronic illness,

~~~~~

It was like the entire event was playing in your head in slow motion, all the time. Sure there were moments of relief. When something requires your attention fully, and there were moments where you just shoved it down. But those moments have been coming less and less lately. It was becoming harder and harder to ignore it. The gnawing in your gut, the feeling of utter hopelessness and despair you felt in those moments. In the moments where you attempted to commit every feature of his face to memory hoping that they would be your last.

It never came.

~~~

The next thing you know you were in the hospital and had to learn to deal with the aftermath.

With the pain.

The side effects.

The loss of your hearing.

The coffee shop was beautiful at sunset. The warm yellow glow from the lights strung in the window giving it a mystical feeling. It was cozy, it felt right, the only thing missing was Spencer. He was supposed to be meeting you here, it was your usual Saturday night coffee date, you had already ordered him his salted caramel and mocha latte, you were sipping on your vanilla latte. The sky was a dusty pink and purple as the sun set over the skyline.

There weren't many people in the coffee shop but that wasn't unusual, who drank coffee at 7:30pm. Not many people, most of the time it was you and Spencer and maybe a few other people working late. Tonight was no different, you lean your elbows on the table and stare out the door watching as people stroll by.

Then it was like time slowed, there was a moment when people started running, there was a commotion in the streets. The crowd outside moved faster, then a man appeared, his back to the window where you were sitting. His movements were strange and jerky, and then he turned. His glassy brown eyes made contact with yours, and the moment you glanced down you noticed the web of explosives taped to his chest. Your mind reeled as you watched him take his finger off the button, the world seemed to slow.

You didn't remember what happened immediately after the explosion, you were knocked unconscious for a little while, but when you came to. The ringing in your ears was enough to make you vomit. And so you did, right next to where you lay in a pile of rubble. Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of your body hurts.

You couldn't move your legs, the pieces of brick from the front of the building pinned you down. You tried to push yourself up, but your arms felt like jello, you weren't even sure they were still attached. You couldn't hear anything over the ringing in your ears, it was deafening. Every movement felt like it took the strength of a 100 bodybuilders to do it. You turn your head to the side, rubble raining down from the ceiling every few seconds, causing you to cough and squint through the dust.

As some of the dust settled you could see the friendly barista who took your order, a local high school girl. She was in her senior year, her brown hair was a matted bloody mess, her green eyes glassy. The blood spilling from her mouth, the stillness of her chest. It took only moments for you to figure out she was dead.

You turn away from her, the image of her glassy eyes burned into your brain. It would haunt you for years. You laid there, every passing moment felt like eternity. The shock slowly wore off and you were becoming more and more aware of your injuries. Pain laced your chest, your breathing becoming rapid, as you struggled to pull air into your lungs. Pain seared through every part of your battered body.

You saw the lights, but never heard the sirens, you could see the shadows of people moving around, the lights of their flashlights coming through the settling dust. You could feel the vibrations of their heavy boots coming closer. Not wanting to be missed you throw your arm up with everything you had, and sure enough someone saw you.

A fireman came over to you, his mouth was moving, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. He slowed his talking down and you were able to make out what he was saying by the movements of his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his brow furrowed.

“N-No… I-I need… you to call someone… F-FBI.. Agent Spencer… Spencer Reid…” You managed to gasp out, and the fireman nodded. His mouth moved again and you struggled to make out what he was saying… something about getting you out you assumed because he left. You struggled to keep your emotions in check as he left, panic coursing through your veins. But he came back with a few others, as they started to remove the rubble and debris from around you and on top of you.

They worked around you, under the instruction of a paramedic who was sitting by your head. You managed to catch a few words she was saying, “Crush syndrome, Heart, Arrest.” But that was all, the ringing in your ears was the same, and the vertigo was still unbearable if you moved. It felt like you were on the worst worst free dive from an airplane. Endlessly spinning towards earth with no parachute to slow you down.

The paramedic placed an IV and gave you fluids through a bag she held up, she would look down at you and tell you that you were going to be okay. At least that's what you assumed she was saying. She gave you oxygen, and held the mask over your mouth, she mimed deep breaths to you when you would start gasping. The Paramedic and the Firemen worked carefully to free you. It was a painfully slow process.

Out of the corner of your eye a pair of white and black converse, mismatched socks and jeans.You couldn't hold the tears back anymore, they cascaded down your cheeks in messy trails. Leaving streaks of clean skin beneath the dirt and dust, Spencer slid on his knees next to the paramedic and looked down at you.

His frantic words were lost to you as he conversed with the Paramedic. His hazel eyes locked with yours. His hand comes to rest on your forehead and brushes some of your Y/H/C hair out of your face. His eyes shining with unshed tears, as he speaks slowly, “You’re okay, you’ll be okay. I’m here.” his soundless words promised.

Your eyes raked over his face, trying to commit every feature to memory, “It’s okay… I love you spencer.” You whispered, your voice barely audible between the background noise you couldn't hear.

“I love you too,” you knew how those words looked. You had watched those lips say those words hundreds of times. There was a moment where something was said and Spencer's face changed. The Paramedic injected something into your IV line and you glanced at Spencer your eyes wide.

“You’ll be okay.” He mouthed, and then they removed the final piece of rubble, you gasped for breath, and then nothing. The world went dark.

~~~

Someone's hand tapped your shoulder and you jolted in your seat. You glanced over at who startled you, Spencer stood there, his hand outstretched to you. In his hand lay your hearing aids, you sigh, reaching over and putting them in. They didn't give you your hearing back, you were still significantly hearing impaired. They helped you catch every third word or so, you relied mainly on lip reading and signed English in combination with the hearing aids.

“We need to talk,” Spencer said after you had your hearing aids in, his hands moving to sign as he spoke.

“About?” You seethed, you were pissed off this morning, you hadn’t slept well. You suffered from frequent bouts of Tinnitus, it was debilitating at times.

Spencer sighs, although you couldn't actually hear it, you saw the way his chest heaved, the exasperated look on his face as he reached into his pocket and pulled out an orange pill bottle. Your blood ran cold, your fingertips numb. You suddenly felt like you were floating out in space unanchored.

“Why didn't you tell me you needed more of your meds? You know that you’re supposed to keep them on hand for when the headaches get bad.” He shook his head, and an annoyed expression on his face.

“I’m sorry. I forgot.” You lied, it fell easily off your tongue. You found yourself lying more and more, and the more you lied the easier it got. It didn't leave a bitter taste in your mouth anymore, you didn't feel guilty about lying anymore. It didn't even occur to you to correct Spencer that you HAD filled your prescription. Last week actually, but you had taken them all.

You didn't know when it started, but the weightless feeling, the good floating feeling that the opioids gave you. They turned from relief to a way of surviving. They no longer were there to just take the pain away, they numbed you to everything. When you took them off and took your hearing aids out, the silence that followed was nothing short of bliss.

You found yourself taking them more often, not because of the headaches, but because you craved those feelings again. For those moments, the scene didn't play over and over. You didn't repeat the moment your hearing was stolen from you. It was just nothing. Pure nothingless bliss.

Staring at Spencer you realize he's been talking to you, but now that your hearing was mostly gone it was easy to pretend you just didn't understand it, that you weren't lost in your own world. His hands waved at you and your eyes slid to his lips.

“Sorry, i didn't get that, can you say it again?” You ask, watching him closely.

“I asked if you needed me to pick up your meds, i can grab them on the way into the office,” he signs again, slower this time.

“No, no, i”ll go out and get them,” you smile, if Spencer stopped by the pharmacy he would find out that you just refilled. He would learn your dirty little secret. “You’re gonna be late,” You gesture to the grandfather clock standing against the far wall.

Spencer looks over, and runs a hand through his curls, “I’ll see you later?” He comes to kneel in front of you, his hands resting on your blanket clad legs. You give him a small nod, and lean forward pressing your lips to his. The taste of his extra sweet coffee still lingers on his pink lips, his hands squeeze your knees and he sits back on his heels. “I love you,” he says, pressing another kiss to your forehead before standing.

“I love you too” You call after him, you watch as he closes the front door of your shared apartment, and let out a sigh. You reach up, ripping the hearing aid from your ears and letting them clatter to the coffee table. You pick up your phone, open a text message thread and send a text.

Y/N: park noon?

D: Yes. 40?

Y/N: Yes. 300?

D: See you then.

You smile at the phone, and quickly erase the text thread, and put it down on the table. You glance at the time again, you had a few hours to kill before you had to go meet your dealer. At first it felt wrong, and weird. Meeting a drug dealer when your boyfriend was an FBI agent, but when you learnt just how easy it was to get pain meds you changed your feelings about it.

It was better to buy them on the street, fill the bottle that you got refilled monthly and act as if they were the same. Spencer never noticed, since the accident he had become accustomed to your tuned out personality, he understood you were dealing with a lot. You had a life changing event and it would never get better. If anything the audiologist prepared you for the fact that you would probably lose more of your hearing within the next 10 years.

You would never hear Spencer whisper how much he loved you after making love, never hear his laugh, or his ramblings. You would never hear the way he sounded when he woke up, or be able to listen to your favorite songs in the same way again. You’d never hear your future children first cry or their first laughs.

You wiped the tears that were tracking down your cheeks, now wasn't the time to cry. You pulled yourself off the couch, grabbing your hearing aids as you left the living room and headed into the bedroom. You changed out of your pajama shorts and put on a pair of leggings and one of Spencers’ sweaters. You sighed, glancing at the hearing aids that lay on the bed, the beige and clear material staring back at you. One more physical reminder of what you lost. That was all those were. You despised them. Some days you refused to wear them, against Spencers protests. But you never left the house without them, fearing that the lack of ambient noise and the inability to catch even part of what was happening around you making you anxious.

It was time to leave by the time you had finished getting ready to go, hearing aids in tow. You grabbed the keys from the counter and started the 15 minute walk to the park. After arriving at the park you take a seat on the park bench you usually meet on and wait. 10 minutes later Dylan walks up, his hands in his pockets, he looks the part of a man out on a jog, his armband with his phone nestled inside it.

He sits down on the bench next to you, and looks over at you. “Beautiful day,” his voice is distorted and hard to make out. But you just smile, and nod. He never expects his questions to be answered. After another moment he leans over and taps your shoulder, “Ma’am, i think you dropped this.” He holds out a case, it's small no bigger than a man's wallet and as you reach over you ‘accidentally’ knock over your bag, some of the contents spilling out. Dylan leans down to help you put the items back in and while doing so exchanges the case with the identical one you have in your purse effectively transferring the money from you to him and the pills from him to you.

“Thank you” You smile as you grab your bag and stand, and Dylan gives you a head nod. The whole exchange takes no more than 2 minutes, then you are back on your way home. Pills in hand, as you enter the apartment the ringing in your ears from the night before starts again. You reach up taking your hearing aids out, hoping that will help somewhat. But much to your dismay it doesn't stop the persistent high pitched sounds that your brain is trying to interpret as sound.

You put your hand to your head, and squeeze your eyes closed. You reach into your bag blindly and find the case of pills, taking 2 out you pop them in your mouth and swallow them dry. You stumble over to the couch and lay down, trying to move as little as possible. Hoping for the seet relief the pills bring to happen soon,

A few hours later the ringing was still there, unable to take another moment of it you forced yourself to your feet, heading into the kitchen to once again grab the case and take 2 more. Normally you would never take more than 2, but they don't seem to be working anymore. You dry swallow 2 more, and sit on the floor in the kitchen with your back pressed against the bottom cabinets. Your head is back against them, focusing on taking slow even breaths, your eyes closed to try to calm the vertigo.

After some time you drifted off to sleep…

~~~~~~

Cold water raining down on you from above startled you awake, you were aware of the warm body pressed against your back. Their hands brushing your hair away from your face, the tidal wave of nausea crashes into you and you throw up all over yourself. It’s quickly washed down the drain from the torrent of icy water from the shower head.

You gasp and sputter as the water continues to assault you. Hands run soothingly up and down your arms, you can feel the vibrations of someone talking behind you. Turning slightly in your seated position in the bottom of the claw foot tub you look over your shoulder and see Spencer, his own hair is soaking wet. His lips slightly blue as he shivers under the cold water. His lips are moving as he talks to you, but between the water running into your eyes and the chattering of his teeth.

“I cant… I don't know what you’re saying,” You manage to gasp out as your own teeth start to chatter. Reluctantly Spencer removes his hands from your arms, he reaches over and turns off the cold water. You let out a sigh of relief as the cold water stops cascading down your already numb body.

Spencer reaches out and grabs your chin in his long fingers, ‘You overdosed,” he mouths slowly, and realization hits you. You took 4 of the pain meds Dylan gave you. You took 4 within 2 hours of each other.

“I-Its not what you think,” you mutter, pushing yourself to stand and step out of the tub. Your clothes weigh a million pounds from the water. Your eyes fall to the floor that is slowly becoming soaked beneath you. You see Spencer climb out of the tub after you, his own soaked clothes adding to the water accumulating on the floor. His hand comes under your chin again, forcing you to look at him as he speaks.

“Why did you lie to me?” His browns pull together as he signs the question, the betrayal on his face is evident.

“I don't know what you mean.” You grab a towel from the rack and wrap it around yourself, your entire body feels drained. Like it was hit by a Semi truck at 100 miles an hour. You start to dry yourself off as Spencer stares at you. The heart of his gaze is overwhelming, the disappointment rolling off him in waves.

‘

“Don’t. Don’t lie to me Y/N.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Really? So the pharmacist was lying? He just told me that they filed your prescription last week for no reason?” He gestures wildly, you know hes yelling. You don't have to be able to hear to know that he was yelling at you. It was visible in the way his chest heaved, the way he signed the words to you. His entire body language screamed ‘anger’ like a giant flashing sign.

“OKAY! I lied!” You yell back, and the shock is evident on his face. The anger disappears to something you recognize instantly. The same look you get from everyone who knew you before. Pity. “So what? People lie all the time. It doesn't mean I have a problem.”

“Then why when I pulled your phone records did it show that for the last 6 months you have been meeting a guy once a week, a guy who by the way is a known drug dealer?!” Spencer is yelling again, and the shame slams into you. You never wanted him to be angry at you, you just wanted the pain to stop.

“If i hadn't come home early today, if i hadn't shoved my fingers down your throat while you were unconscious, you would be dead. Do you get that? You need help, Y/N. Let me help you. I’ve been there before i've been in your shoes. I can help you, I can get you the help you need.” His face softens, his hands brushing away the tears that started falling down your cheeks.

“But… I just wanted it to-to stop… “ you sob, as Spencer reaches for you and wraps you in his arms. This whole situation felt familiar, only this time it was you with the problem. Not him. When you had first met Spencer he was in the throes of his own addiction. When your long time friend Penelope Garcia called you one rainy afternoon after not hearing from her teammate, she asked if you could stop over. You only lived a block from Spencer apartment, so you trudged through knee high snow, making the short trip to his building. There you found the door unlocked and heard what sounded like someone struggling to breathe. Your instincts kicked in and you entered the apartment calling out your arrival.

That’s where you found spencer sitting on the floor of his living room, his head down on his knees. His entire body shook as he fell into a panicked spiral. You sunk down onto the wood floor and whispered to him that he wasn’t alone. That he was okay, that someone was there. When he finally calmed down enough he blurted to you that he was withdrawing from Dilaudid, alone.

Your heart thundered in your chest as he sobbed, as the shaking wracked his body, and stole the little energy he had left. You decided at that moment that he wouldn’t be doing it alone anymore. You were going to help this stranger whose soul was shattered by battling demons you could only imagine.

Now standing soaking wet in the bathroom, Spencer was promising to do the same for you as you did him. He would be your anchor in the rocky waters of addiction. He would hold your hand through the vicious mood swings and physical pain that came along with getting clean. He had already done so much for you after the accident. You weren’t sure why you felt surprised he was still here. Why was he still holding you and telling you everything would be okay, when the last few months you had been distant and even cruel towards him. You had no idea.

“I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not angry. I’m going to be here for you. Through it all okay?” He says holding you slightly away from his chest so you can read his lips.

“Okay…” you whisper, a small smile spreading over Spencer’s lips.

“Okay. We’ll do this, we’ll face this together.”

#criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer #addiction #x you #x reader #Comfort #angst

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trekmupf · 6 months ago

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Evil Cube from outer space

Pro

Spock being a good leader & Sassy boy

Shatner getting his sweaty sporty chest out again. I mean the entire workout scene, McCoy ignoring the red alert and kirk video calling Spock shirtless and sweaty

and Kirk literally walking around the entire ship without a shirt and shoes???

“What am I a doctor or a moon shuttle conductor?”

the way bones sits on the bridge railing

our crew sitting in the conference room for hours, slamming back coffee

Bailey is a great and important part of the episode: we see his decline (along with McCoy), it's realistic and well contrasted to the senior staff on the bridge, and his arc comes full circle in the end

I love it when McCoy is literally standing behind Kirk in the captains chair

the fact the dummy alien makes you think this is the worst alien design so far and then it DOES turn out to be a dummy is great

Not only in theory but generally shows important mechanics on the ship: How the characters / crew work together and who does what

especially the way kirk relies on both Spock and McCoy to advise him, challenge him and back him up in their very own way; also the way they clash but come around again after, it's all so rounded

also shows who kirk is as a captain: calm, level headed, rational but empathetic, thinks deeply about major decisions and is conscious of his role and responsibility; and also so smart with how he handles the crisis and outplays his opponent; the way he leads his crew, the way he refuses to give up; but his anger and emotion also keep him very human

the fact that he decides to save the former enemy is so Kirk, I love him for it (knowing how he continues to value life and what it will cost him later on)

special effects (I really implore you guys to check out the original special effects if you've only seen the Netflix / DVD versions, it's on youtube)

The sounds on the bridge, little beeps and boops, are such a great atmosphere

“ a cube is blocking the ships way for half an episode” shouldn't work and yet the characters, music and editing really hold the tension up during the first half

the second half is even more tense and puts the characters under such stress until the plot twist in the end that relieves that tension in a great and satisfying way

good scoring and dramatic music

Con

Was filmed earlier than most others, so the inconsistencies are back (clothes, roles, characters, camerawork)

Bashing Yeoman Rand doing her job served no purpose and was unnecessary sexist; didn't like McCoy's comment either

Counter

shirtless kirk

brains over brawls (technically there was no brawls option)

superior alien race studying humanity

Quote:

"You know the greatest danger facing us is... ourselves, and irrational fear of the unknown. There's no such thing as 'the unknown,' only things temporarily hidden, temporarily not understood" - Kirk

"Has it occurred to you that there is a certain... inefficiency in constantly questioning me on things you've already made up your mind about?" - Spock "It gives me emotional security" - Kirk (the way they look at each other drives me insane)

Moment: Kirk pulling the entire Corbomite story from thin air

Summary: A tense episode about a terrifying and hopeless situation putting pressure onto our characters and revealing their core characteristics and strengths as well as highlighting their relationships with each other, with a great plot twist to round out the episode. It also openly and directly tells us what Star Trek is about and its philosophical and ethical core messages – the best episode so far and one of the best in general.

Previous Episode - Next Episode - All TOS Reviews

#star trek tos #star trek #wewatchtos #the corbomite maneuver #star trek the original series #wewatchstartrek

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candywife333 · 1 year ago

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Kidnapped......By Choice

And I am back guys. Sorry for the super long hiatus. Will finish Moo Moo part 2 right after I release this small drabble/one shot hybrid (going to call them DRAB-ONE from now on😆)

pairing: Kidnapper Jungkook x chubby oblivious , super nonchalant Y/N

4th DAY OF CHRISTMAS

(DRAB-ONE)

Trigger: mention of trafficking

As usual, little to no proofreading

Could a girl never get some peace and quiet in this freaking world? I shifted from side to side, attempting to catch sleep but the raucous noise of the dinner party beneath my room prevented me from even drifting off.

As I felt myself slowly succumb into the warm embrace of a peaceful slumber, I heard the sudden thud of my window swing open. BAM! BAM!

WTF?!!! THIS BITCH WAS GOING TO GET IT NOW??!!! WHO THE FUCK WAS OUT TO MAKE ME A SLEEPLESS , STRESS RIDDEN LITTLE TROLL?!!!

That's when I saw him standing against the window, almost a silent specter. Well built thick thighs encased in black leather , check. White ski mask barely showing a peek of pink luscious lips, check. Strong shoulders and arms outlined by a dark leather jacket tapering down to reveal an itty, bitty tiny waist, check.

As I literally gobbled his form up with my eyes, the man sauntered over, as a fluid as a panther towards me. "Hey, hey, dude. Stay right there man. I'm a nervous farter. I wouldn't want to fart on you and make you suffer from inhaling the noxious fumes that come out of my ass".

He quirked one of his eyebrows up seemingly trying to hold laughter in, as he rumbled out in a deep masculine voice that made my panties suspiciously moist, "That is seriously all you have to say to an intruder who has come into your bedroom at night? You are warning him that you might fart? That is your threat"?

I put one hand on my head, growling out in impatience, "Look bro, I wouldn't be warning you if it actually wasn't a weapon of mass destruction. You picked the wrong one tonight. I could ruin your sense of smell so bad that you would think a jar of pickles smell like petunias. Don't test the power of the FLATULENCE. OK"?

I slapped my ass vehemently to prove a point......and also assert dominance. Who the hell did this handsome, drool-worthy dude bro think he was, walking in on me in a ripped stained crop top and sleep shorts that had been swallowed by my ass from behind? I had never been so indecently clothed in the presence of a man. And worst of all, a stranger at that.

However, none of this bravado stopped him in his path as he stood right in front of me. His dark eyes glinted like two twinkling stars in the night sky. "Look little lady, it is better if you cooperate. You are right now being kidnapped, why don't you actually show preservation skills and some healthy dose of fear"?

I snorted, clearly making him surprised as he glared at me in confusion, "There ain't anything small about me man. Everything is large or extra large. Not a small bone in my body since I was 10 years old. Now, why don't you move out of my way before I sit on you and suffocate you with my fat cells and bad odor".

Mirth filtered through his eyes as he seemed to be holding back a laugh. Before I could blink, he restrained my arms behind me. As usual my weak arm strength (can't even do a push up) made me as moldable as jello. He tied my wrists with rope and shoved me onto the bed.

I felt super annoyed. First of all, I wasn't getting sleep. Number two, I wasn't even that pretty enough for him to kidnap and sell into any human trafficking. The trafficker would take one look at me, spit in my chubby face, and shove me back where I came from. That would be the first time, they would want a refund. Well everything has a first I guess.

Before I could sit up on the bed and catch my bearings, he had taken off his mask. My jaw fell open and I swear I started drooling. Jungkook? The hot high school senior that I had been mooning over for close to three years? Why was he trying to kidnap me? Wait......why was I resisting? This was a dream come true.

My mood completely switched as I had a grin on my face, brimming with happiness, "Hey, Jungkook-ssi , why don't you kidnap me a little faster and harder...if you catch my drift"?

He looked bewildered as his piercings shined in the dim light, "You..you aren't scared of what is going on right now"?

I kicked my chubby feet into the air in excitement, cheeks blushing, "I have always wanted to be abducted by you, so I don't mind. So, where are you taking me .....and what depraved activities do you have in mind. Would you mind taking me away for a month, at least till math finals are over"? I winked at him, entreating him to give me an answer.

He stood there, paralyzed in shock as he gritted out, teeth clenched, "This was just supposed to be a prank, your brother dared me to do it for 500 bucks". Tears slipped down my face, lips pouting. "What do you mean Jungkook-ssi? Do you mean that you were never supposed to rail me roughly into oblivion? This was all a set-up"?

Not able to deal with my fake crying, he started trying to reassure me, "No Y/N, it was just a light hearted prank, and I needed the money. Please don't misunderstand, I never meant to harm you. I was just supposed to get you scared enough and have the drone camera outside the window record it".

I peered out the window and saw the drone. My expression fell flat, and I felt glum...disappointed at the outcome. I wanted to be roughly porked like in those dark romance novel books with the mafia leaders who were kidnappers. Well, a girl can have here fantasies I guess, but maybe they were never meant to be.

I sullenly sighed, "Ok then Jungkook-ssi. Now that you got the reaction, why don't you leave? I am tired and sleepy. If you don't do it, it is ok. I will just find someone else to do it".

He seemed relieved, till he heard the last line of what I said. His eyes became frantic, smoldering with anger and lips in a hard straight line as he spit out, "What do you mean someone else"?

I yawned, settling back under the covers, rubbing my eyes, "Are you slow or something Jungkook-ssi. I thought my noncon kidnapping kink would be satisfied today and I could knock it off my checklist. But I guess I just have to find someone to pound me from behind, in a ski mask propped onto a window-sill. It just won't be you. Perhaps....Hoseok-ssi, he did grin my way last week in dance club. Maybe he would be interested".

As my eyes closed slowly, head sinking onto the pillow below I felt a weight dip onto the bed and my wrist pinned onto either side of the bed. I opened my eyes suddenly, to be met with Jungkook's feral grin right above me. I tried batting him away, irritated. What did he want now? His big veiny hands grabbed me by my wrists as his hot breath ghosted my neck. He panted with exertion as he continued in a lethal tone, "I will kill any man who dares touch you. Don't test me sweetheart. I am the only one who gets to have you against a window-sill".

I snorted, amused at his antics. He hadn't looked my way in the past 3 years that I had devotedly followed him around campus. And now suddenly after a stupid bet, he was possessive over me. Nonsense. Balderdash. I turned around on my side, pushing my bed covers higher on my body. This tomfoolery at 12 am was not what I wanted to hear. I drawled out groggily, "Like you would be attracted to my sagging granny panty clad ass. Just go back man. Had enough of lies for today".

Suddenly, I felt cold air abruptly filter onto my pussy and butt. Startled, I looked up to see my damp panties in his vascular hands. Smirking deviously as he rubbed my clit slowly with his calloused finger, spreading the moisture around, making me mewl and clutch at his coat, he whispered against my neck, "What made you think that granny panties would stop me sweetheart"?

#chubby reader #bts x plus size reader #bts x reader #comedy #bts x chubby reader #little smut #smidge of smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook x chubby reader #jungkook x curvy reader #bts #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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everytangbo · 1 month ago

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Porcelain, crashing down and shattering in a million tiny pieces. Nothing satisfied quite like the formulaic punchline of knocking a vase off the shelf. It didn’t matter whether it was cheap stoneware or pompous glossy porcelain, hard or soft; breaking things was a child’s play Chung Myung had long since mastered. And the game came with a bonus: a guessing round. Guess-guess what’ll break worse—their noses or their pride? Pride was always the safest bet.

Vases—petty, bitter things—cracked on their own, spitting blame for their own fragility. And as —One should thank a senior for a bit of wisdom—, every action inspires an equal reaction . What followed was a symphony of shattered egos, branching out like the flavors of fine liquor:

The first type retreated into silence—his favorites. Bone-dry pottery, they were juniors who overestimated their own strength, brittle from being pulled out of the kiln too early. Their cracks were lessons waiting to be filled in, and Chung Myung was happy to oblige.

The second type sulked and sputtered excuses. They weren’t giving it their all, they were injured, they were just testing his strength. Funny, all of them had the same tears, and wine always tasted better with their salt in it.

But the worst? The elders, the so-called sages who had long since grown fat on the prestige of their sects. People deemed to be above him, if not in strength in wisdom. Those fancy vases painted with corny landscapes and hollow and cryptic inscriptions quoting long-dead sages who’d mastered the art of sitting still—of course they would echo someone else’s wisdom when they have nothing to say on their own. Those vases shattered the prettiest, their porcelain pride cracking like snowflakes under his fist.

And when they do they call him unrefined, disrespectful. They cursed his name. Chung Myung didn’t care. Respect, he’d decided, was something you earned, not demanded. And yet they clung to it, afraid to face the truth they refused to see in their reflection:

Even the highest vases shatter when they hit the ground.

And so, went off fighting porcelains, little fragile vases with brittle egos. Empty vases. Because, even when the taoist teachings, his seniors were so eager to follow, could insist about the importance of nothingness such as ‘It is the void between the walls where one finds his home’ or ‘is in the empty space that a vase finds its usefulness’ — well, the emptiness is only useful when there's something filling it. Like spirit, a good strong liquor. Those are the vases he liked. He liked to run empty, of course.

(continue on AO3)

🌸🌸🌸

Well isn't it lovely when we get to see both perspectives? Tang Bō already had his time to fangirl in his little diary. But now that Chung Myung is here, I wanted it give him a voice in this mile stone of his: make a friend.

#tang bo's diaries #tang bo #chung myung

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matan4il · 1 year ago

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please hate me because i praying ceasefire of both sides - realase hostages and free gaza for civilians

Why would I hate you for this message? I'd like to think you have good intentions, and are mostly uninformed about what your message actually means.

The problem is that, as I wrote here, good intentions can lead to real harm, when people don't understand the consequences of their choices, and we're still responsible for the harm we caused, no matter how good are intentions were.

So let's make it clear: It's great to want the hostages free! But that's not enough after Oct 7.

Hamas has violated every ceasefire ever, including the one that was in place until 6:30 in the morning on that day. Its terrorists slaughtered civilians. They raped people of all ages, so brutally that bones were broken. They cut off body parts, breasts off women, genitalia off men, fingers and toes off children. They tied family members together, then burned those captives alive.

These terrorists placed a Jewish baby in an oven, and turned it on. Think about how much that baby must have screamed! It was in pain, and it was helpless, and all it could do to try and stop the physical hurt as it grew worse and worse, was to scream its little lungs out. And up until then, this baby probably thought the world was a good place, because whenever it cried, one of this kid's parents came, and made things better. what was the world to this child as it cried, and cried, and then screamed with every ounce of strength it had, and no one made the pain go away? I don't think I could ever fully process how horrible this baby's death was.

And a Hamas senior said explicitly on Oct 24, that they would continue in the exact same way, and carry out this massacre again, and again, and again...

A ceasefire before Hamas is destroyed means to accept that a massacre like this will happen again. Because no border can contain a genocidal terrorist organization, as Hamas proved on Oct 7. If you didn't understand that this is what it means, that it isn't a simple wish for peace, but a guarantee of another future massacre of innocent civilians, innocent babies, you do know now. And hopefully, you know better than to wish for the future deaths of more people in Israel.

If you don't, if you still wish for a ceasefire while Hamas continues to exist, with no regard for the well being of the people that it designates as it would be victims (which is all Jews, though as we've seen on Oct 7, Hamas will kill non-Jews as well, if they're associated with the Jewish state), then: 1. There is something morally wrong with your stance on this. 2. And you don't have a right to make that wish unless you put yourself in the line of Hamas' fire, by moving to Israel and living right on the border with Hamas, knowing that at any moment, they might breach the border again, and come and do to you, to your loved ones, what they have promised they will do to every last Israeli and Jew.

Lastly, I do wish for the Gazans to be free, just like I wish for the hostages to be released! I have no doubt that the Palestinians in Gaza will never be free, until Hamas is destroyed. If you do pray for Israelis and Gazans alike, you should pray for Hamas to be taken down, for the sake of the innocents on both sides. Then we have a chance at a real peace, not a fake ceasefire, that will for sure be broken.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

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reina-petrova · 7 months ago

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Stay ・❥・ Elejah

Elena is under Elijah's protection - whether she likes it or not.

Hidden away from Klaus within Mystic Falls, and safely under his supervision in the manor, Elena navigates the growing tension between her and Elijah, and the threat of war that looms over their heads. But after so long, she finds herself drawn to that which the supernatural denied her. Love. Passion.

↳AU where Elijah takes Elena into his custody to protect her from Klaus. There are no Salvatores in this fic.

↳Length: 19.3k words

↳Smut(Multiple orgasms, fingering, blowjobs, eating out, dirty talk, light dom/sub undertones if you squint), blood drinking, mentions of death.

・❥・

Elena was bored. That was the truth of it.

Her fingers dragged over leather bound spines, fingernails clicking softly against the ridges of the books. Proud names rose to meet her eyes as they flickered over each one, Tolstoy, Tolkien, Poe, Kant, Dickens, Christie. The books were in reverse Alphabetical order. She knew that because she'd organized them herself. First alphabetically, then reversed the order. Twice.

Her fingers paused against the well-worn copy of Wuthering Heights, and the faded gold foil of Ellis Bell written on the spine, Brontë's pseudonym. She bent her neck upwards to look up at the shelves of books towering above her, weighing her options. A book on the Russian revolution or the invention of the printing press didn't seem all too compelling.

She sighed quietly and pinched her fingers around Wuthering Heights, pulling it free from its compatriots. How many would it be this time? The twentieth time? Thirtieth? Elena flipped the book open to the little scrap of paper she'd tucked inside the first page where she'd made a tally sheet of how often she'd read certain books. A sad little library of her own making, but it was all she could do to keep track.

"Thirty-first." She hummed to herself, raising her brows briefly. "I've outdone myself this time."

The book shut with a soft clap, and Elena raised her eyes to peer around the shelves once more, looking for a secondary option before she resigned herself to her reading chair for the rest of the afternoon. Such was the way most of her afternoons had gone for... Elena pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the date. "Three-hundred and thirty-four days."

Elena grabbed a newer version of Emma from the shelf, as she passed the A's on her way to her reading chair, and she slipped her phone back into her pocket. No new messages anyway.

She dropped the books none too gently on the intricately carved side table adjacent to her chair, and collapsed in it like all of the strength had left her bones. The literary greats forgotten, Elena gathered her legs up onto the chair, rested her temple against her fist on the arm of it, and gazed around the room.

The library was beautiful, one she'd always dreamt of having all to herself one day. Tall, imposing shelves soared almost to the top of the 50-foot ceiling, stopping only when it bent in graceful arcs above her head, with faded brass filigree decorating the wooden reliefs of fleur de lis and other designs she couldn't squint to make out. Books filled every shelf to the brim, some teetering on the edge, some in stacks horizontally, some so old the covers had nearly worn away, and some so far out of her reach she had never read them. The western wall was entirely made of glass, and it rose up to meet the very edge of the ceiling in a rounded arc in the Victorian style. She knew that because she'd flipped through a book on Victorian architecture.

Too bad it all felt less like a dream and more like a sinister version of a time loop. Elena had lived and relived the same day for the better part of eleven months, and would continue to do so as long as Elijah had anything to say about it.

Elijah Mikaelson had blown into Mystic Falls last year, just weeks after Elena had finished her senior year. Though she was aware of the existence of the supernatural in Mystic Falls, thanks to her respective witch and vampire best friends, she'd known little about the curse of her doppelgänger heritage apart from what few truthful lies Katherine had spouted. He'd taken her into his "protective custody" after she'd been informed that a psychopathic would-be hybrid wanted her blood to complete a ritual to unlock his dormant wolf half. His half-brother, Klaus. The agreement was simple; Elijah needed her for leverage, and she needed protection.

He'd compelled Jenna and Jeremy to think she'd gone off to live on campus at university, but she persuaded him to let Caroline and Bonnie know the truth. After that, he'd taken up residence in the grandest manor he could find in Mystic Falls and filled it with books. And her.

Except, for all she knew, Klaus didn't know she existed. If he did, he didn't seem to know where she was. What Elena had thought would become a terrifying battle between two vampiric titans over her life had actually been... boring.

Even the jokes Bonnie and Caroline would make about her living her very own Beauty and the Beast story were running thin. Elijah had never been untoward. A little cold. Unyielding in his restrictions; he couldn't risk anything happening to the doppelganger. Besides, she could never even imagine Elijah making advances. He was this noble, ancient being, and she was just a regular girl. Well. Somewhat.

Elijah was as mysterious to her as the shadowy books perched at the very top of the shelves. While he'd taken the time to explain the rules of vampiric lore, and a general idea of what his history looked like with his brother, she didn't know all that much about him as a person. The mansion was hers for exploring, though given the size of it, there were several rooms she’d never entered. One room in particular- his bedroom. In fact, she wasn’t even certain which door led to it. She did sometimes wonder what the inside of it might look like...

She imagined dark walls accented with gold moulding trim, a lavishly carved desk covered in papers and books and candles, and just off to the side of the study, a bedroom with a grand four-poster bed... with crimson silk sheets.

Elena blinked her ridiculous reverie away, and realized she'd zoned out for so long, the sun had begun to set. The library was hushed in the cool light of the pink dusk settling over the books. It was evident she had been reading too many romances, she thought as she glanced over at Wuthering Heights, and it was starting to invade her waking thoughts too.

"Screw it." Elena pushed her legs off the chair and left the library in search of her elusive keeper.

She found him in the sitting room, fire already ablaze, and him staring into the flames, a whiskey neat cupped between his fingers. He cut an impressive figure, as usual, in his fine tailored suit and brushed back hair. The gold ring on his finger glinted sharply as he rolled the drink in his hand slowly. His silhouette was black in the roar of the fire's light, but she knew he'd heard her come in. As he turned to face her, his face became shrouded in the shadows.

"Elena." His voice was cool, measured. It sounded the same every time; she could never tell if he was pleased or annoyed to see her.

"Elijah. May I?"

She often likened their dynamic to a loveless marriage, full of things unsaid and an uncertain level of intimacy. After nearly a year, she probably didn't have to ask permission to join him in the sitting room, but his aristocratic nature and the tense dynamic between them seemed to call for it.

Elijah did not answer but gestured towards the couch in the middle of the room in a silent invitation. It was flanked by two armchairs upholstered in the same red-gold fabric. Elena chose the couch.

Elijah tore himself from the flames and poured a second whiskey in a matching crystal tumbler, handing it to Elena without really sparing a glance. He did acquiesce to join her, sitting in one of the armchairs and unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. She'd never seen him in an untidy state, and wondered what that looked like. Elena took a sip of the whiskey; though she didn't really care for it, she felt like liquid courage could do always do her good when it came to Elijah.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" It felt transactional, she thought, though not unkind.

"Just finished reading. Thought I'd see what was new."

Elijah nodded his head, lifting one of his legs to rest his ankle against his knee. His whiskey rested on the arm of the chair, his fingers barely touching it to ensure its balance. Every movement exuded pure confidence. Elena could feel his power emanating from him; it was sometimes difficult to remember just how many centuries he'd seen and all they'd encompassed. For all intents and purposes, he was just a man, yet he carried so much with him. His eyes held it all.

"Was it Brontë again?"

Elena's brows quirked and she let out a soft laugh. She chose to believe the slight playfulness in his tone was real.

"Am I that predictable?"

"Seems you keep coming back to that one." Elijah responded, taking a small sip of the rich amber liquor.

"I suppose you return to what is familiar." Elena said. A brief silence spanned between the two of them, noting the very unfamiliar territory that Elena had found herself in. She took another swig of the whiskey, rolling it across her tongue before she let it burn down the length of her throat before settling into a warm hum in her stomach.

"I suppose that is human nature." He allowed, and Elena appreciated the small note of empathy in his voice, however quickly it disappeared.

"If you require more books, I'll procure some for you. As well as anything else you may need." Elijah began to slowly rise from the chair, and Elena felt the connection slipping as quickly as the rest of the whiskey down his throat.

"No - I mean, thank you, but that's not what I need."

Elijah didn't pause as he walked towards the bar cart, placing his glass down onto it. Elena placed her own down on the coffee table in front of her and stood. The question burned on her tongue until it felt like she couldn't keep it in any longer.

"How much longer will this go on for, Elijah?"

Elijah's eyes met hers, and she felt a chill run through her.

"Elena." His voice was low, a warning. They had had this conversation many times, especially in the first few months of her being here. He was as tired of repeating himself as she was, with neither budging an inch.

"It's been almost a year with little word of Klaus since. I just don't see why I still have to stay here, and not in my own house. Why I can't go live a normal life under your protection." The words felt stale and practiced in her own mouth from how many times she'd said them. Yet, every time the urge for freedom reappeared - or boredom had sunk in once again, she couldn't help but hope this would be the time he'd yield to her for a change. But there was no convincing a thousand year old vampire of anything.

"I think you may be far beyond what constitutes living a normal life. Klaus may resurface at any moment, and he will come for you. It is for your safety I do this."

"Is it?" Elena challenged. Elijah raised a brow at her.

"I have no intention of allowing my brother to become a hybrid, an essentially all-powerful immortal being, Elena. If you're alluding to my dual motives, I have been transparent with you in this regard. This is a mutually beneficial situation." His head turned away from her as though he considered the matter concluded. She used her thumb and index finger to brush her hair away from her temples, sweeping it back over the crown of her head as was her habit.

Though she could have seen this coming, she didn't want the conversation to end like this. He'd disappear somewhere within the house one more, and it would take her days to build up the courage to speak to him again. She resisted the urge to pick up the drink from the table and give it a last swig. Instead, she stepped around the table and tentatively neared him, deciding to turn the conversation back towards their common cause.

"So, where is Klaus now?"

She didn't really expect an answer. Elijah preferred not to tell her in case she'd gotten any ideas, but also because his leads seemed to change with every day that passed. Klaus was a difficult man to pinpoint and an even more difficult man to predict, even for Elijah's best informants.

"My witches tell me there is word of Klaus being spotted in the south, in New Orleans. They have assured me the cloaking spell over Mystic Falls is working, but it won't hold forever."

Elena raised her brows slightly. That was more than she'd expected to hear.

"I see."

Elijah turned to face her, a slight look of amusement on his features. The fire continued to dance in the room, throwing random flashes of light and shadow across both figures. They stood for a moment at an impasse, the tension growing steadily. When Elijah spoke, his voice was as smooth as the whiskey that now clouded her senses, and Elena couldn't help but interpret his words differently than he'd intended.

"This is a waiting game, Elena. One I don't intend to lose."

・❥・

At night, she let her thoughts take over. How would this modern day vampiric "holy war" end?

Most of the options were not very appealing.

Klaus finds her and kills her.

Klaus finds her and kills her, and kills Elijah.

Klaus kills Elijah, and her.

But sometimes she allowed her imagination to get the best of her, and she would pretend that they'd won. Elijah would triumph over Klaus, and her life would no longer be forfeit as the doppelgänger. Her arrangement with Elijah would be at an end, he would presumably disappear somewhere in the world, and she could leave... and then what?

It was difficult to imagine. Since the supernatural had forced itself into her life, she couldn't possibly imagine living in a world where she wasn't aware of vampires and witches and Originals around every corner, where Klaus wasn't breathing down her neck. Where Elijah wasn't there.

Yet, her human nature craved that which the supernatural was keeping from her. Love. A life. Elena felt herself being torn between the two worlds, and leaving one for the other frightened her. The gravity of her choices weighed heavily on her, but her human side wasn't making it easy on her.

Whether she liked it or not, her desires came to her in her dreams, manifested before her very eyes. Visions of love, of a man protecting her as he encircled strong and safe arms around her. Sweet nothings whispered in her ear. A beautiful dance in a beautiful hall. Elena felt her heart swell in the dream, warmth emanating from her chest, down to her toes and fingertips. The glimpse into what her life could look like made her hopes soar, but at the same time, made her unsteady from their heights. How attainable would that sort of life be? Perhaps in the end, she had no choice at all, and the supernatural was as loathe to release her as she was to release it. After all, being a doppelgänger was in her blood.

All the while, she never saw the face of the man who held her so tightly. She was visited nightly by his soft kisses and gentle touches, but none of his features became any clearer. It made her miss a man she had never met, and probably didn't exist. As the final few touches of warmth slipped away from behind her eyes, she fell into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

Dawn peeked through Elena's curtains after a long night of tossing and turning, half-realized dreams of vampires and fangs still echoing in her mind as she pushed herself up in her bed. The room was stately, with a large cherry oak canopy bed as the main fixture, and beautiful bay windows gazing down upon the gardens below. A small sitting area with cushions lined the interior of the windows. Elena had spent quite a few weeks reading in the privacy of her room before she'd mustered up the bravery to explore the house. Elijah had intimidated her more in those days, his silent and indecipherable nature unwelcoming in the grand expanse of the house. She liked to think Elijah had warmed up to her in the days since as well. Was it Brontë again?

But today, Elijah was gone again - she could feel it. The house just felt different when he wasn't around, and in the beginning, she preferred it that way, though now she noted his absence with a small level of disappointment. If someone had to be watching over her, she preferred it would be him, as opposed to the collection of vampires and witches he considered his loyal circle. They were all perfectly congenial towards her, but sworn to the same level of secrecy as Elijah insisted on keeping up. She'd tried.

Not all of them were there to protect her from Klaus, some were just there for her human needs, like breakfast. Elijah had hired a cook to keep the kitchen stocked and Elena fed, though she'd began to cook more for herself as time went on.

Breakfast done, Elena walked to the library, the most familiar room to her. None of the loyal circle bothered her here, one of the small wins she'd earned after the first few weeks.

"You can't possibly expect me to read with someone staring at me the whole time."

"You could read to him to pass the time."

That was also the first time she'd discovered Elijah had a sense of humour. It wasn't that she thought he didn't, she'd just never been in his presence long enough to determine the existence of one. Since then, she'd noticed his wry smiles and facetiousness. She liked it.

Elena closed the grand double doors to the library behind her and set to collecting her choices for the day. The flurry of romance still lingered in her chest as she thought about her dream last night, and decided to settle into the genre for the time being. Stories of noblemen asking for ladies' hands in marriage, the scandal of an unchaperoned rendezvous. It all sounded very tempting. Maybe she could throw a few vampires in there too just to keep it thematically relevant.

There was a ladder at the very edge of the room, one specifically made for towering libraries like these, with wheels attached that rolled back and forth along the shelves. It was enormously tall, and from the looks of it, ill-used. She'd already devoured most of the romantic books near the bottom shelves, and had to venture upwards to find some new ones.

Elena placed one foot on the first step, followed by the next. The metal felt steady enough under her weight, and she stared down at the converse on her feet to be certain of each one before she took another step. It would be ten more steps before she would even reach the shelves she hadn't read, and another twenty before she might reach anything interesting. The books were only very loosely organized by category; evidently Elijah had given up on properly classifying his books by the end of the Tudor period, and whatever previous organization system existed before had clearly been lost when the books were transported here and thrown onto any worthwhile shelf.

Her fingers commenced their familiar journey across the spines of ancient volumes, feeling leather, fabric, and even sometimes velvet beneath her touch. One shelf after another, she searched as the morning grew long. Eventually, she had a small stack of three books that seemed decent, though it had gotten her much too high on the ladder for her comfort. Solid metal though it seemed, she heard whining and creaking beneath her feet the higher she got, but chose to risk just one more step every time.

Her limbs ached; her arms from stretching out to reach the books and pulling herself along the shelves, and holding the books she found in the crook of her elbow. Mostly, they ached from the tension she felt every time she climbed a little higher. Elena glanced down at how far away the floor suddenly seemed, but as she craned her neck upwards to look at the next shelf, she spotted one that looked particularly thematic. Aged and yellowed with time, with once finely etched lettering, she could just barely make out the title - Dracula.

Elena felt herself pushing her body up towards the book before she could give it another thought.

Immediately, she knew she had made a mistake.

The final step she'd taken cracked in half like a brittle piece of wood. The metal had slowly began to rust away in the underneath of the higher most steps from lack of use, and from humidity rising upwards in the library.

Elena felt the world slip beneath her with a sickening pit in her stomach. The books spilled out of her hands as she desperately tried to clutch the railings of the ladder, only to have them slip just beyond her fingertips. Her cry echoed as she felt herself falling all the way down to the ground.

Except she never reached the bottom.

She heard the books she'd been carrying crash to the floor around her like giant hailstones, but instead of the cold, hard floor rushing up to break her neck, it was a strong pair of arms that caught her. Elena felt the air rush back into her lungs, her heart firmly lodged in her throat as she wrenched open her eyes to discover her fate. She found Elijah staring back at her.

"Elijah, I-"

"Elena." He said her name in that way again.

In that small instant, she decided she liked the way the first syllable seemed to linger in his mouth. She'd only noticed it this time because she was suddenly closer to his mouth - and him, than she'd ever been before.

"Uh, thank you, that could've been really bad." She murmured, a flush creeping up over her neck, her chest still rising and falling from her soft breaths.

"You're welcome." The reverberation of his voice in his chest rumbled against her, and she could feel the lean muscles of his arms around her body. Stop it. You're being ridiculous.

There was a beat where it felt as though nobody moved, but then Elijah leaned down slightly to allow her to step foot onto the ground once more. Her palms felt sweaty, a distinctly human reaction to his inhuman abilities. It felt like she would never get used to any of it.

"I thought you weren't home." She said, pushing her hair back with a soft huff as her heart began to slow its frantic pace. Her eyes noted that his suit still appeared perfectly pressed despite her landing. He was as composed as ever, in direct opposition to her.

"It's a good thing I was." He said lightly. "I returned not long ago."

"Oh. How did you know?"

"I heard the metal starting to give, and knew you'd managed to get yourself in trouble. I said as much when I asked Dominic to watch you in here."

"This is not a reason to reinstate him." Elena responded, a small smile on her lips. Elijah's features seemed to soften when it was like this between them.

"I'll consider it." Elijah slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers, bending his head slightly. "Though I suppose I do prefer the efficiency of ensuring that you haven't broken your spine myself."

Elena's eyes dropped down to the books at the same time that Elijah's did. He leaned down to pick up one of them, the spine split in half and half the pages bent haphazardly from the impact. She suddenly felt embarrassed about the books she'd collected. Not to mention destroying what were probably irreplaceable copies.

As he picked up Dracula, she sighed quietly, thankful he hadn't seen the other books. Logically, she knew they were his books, collected over centuries, but she felt shy about her latest romantic fixation. The fact that he knew Wuthering Heights as a favourite of hers was enough.

"Dracula." He hummed, flipping through a few of the pages. "I see you're doing your research."

She half expected him to chastise her for the mess, but he simply shut it and handed to her. Elena raised her hand to take it with some surprise, and shrugged a shoulder as she bent down to pick up the other two books that fell along with her, tucking them into the crook of her elbow.

"Thought it felt appropriate." Elena mused, glancing down at the copy of Dracula. "Even if most of it isn't applicable, there could be some inspiration."

"Inspiration?"

Elena shrugged a shoulder. "For killing Klaus."

"I see. Well, then I'll leave you to your education." He responded, skirting the topic. Their eyes met briefly once more, then he began to turn away from her. She stared at his back for a moment and felt another bad idea bubble up inside of her.

"Elijah, wait."

Elijah paused, and Elena's heart rose up inside of her throat. He slowly turned back around to face her, a questioning look on his face, but she felt her resolve crumble once his heavy gaze met hers.

"Nothing- it's nothing. Thank you again."

He inclined his head towards her and walked out of the library, leaving her to her books.

・❥・

The next day, the ladder was replaced. Gone was the metal death trap, and in its place a supple wooden piece made of thick, reinforced slabs for steps. It almost felt soft to the touch underneath Elena's fingers. She realistically knew this was another compromise between them; she could explore the shelves and read in peace insofar as she avoided breaking her spine in the process. She wouldn't be much use to Elijah as leverage nor even to Klaus for his ritual after that. But she couldn't help but feel touched at his kind gesture.

Her books returned to her, she prepared herself for another day spent the same way as always. Her fingers flipped through the pages, head lolling on the armrest of the chair as she tucked her legs to the side and leaned the book against the back of it. Except, at some point, in the midst of the gentle intimacy of Pride and Prejudice, she'd slowly fallen asleep.

The dream started much like the last one had. A man, one with a pull so magnetic, and she, almost powerless to resist. Still, his features were a mystery to her, but she could almost feel the soft touches brushing against her hips and waist.

But then it started to take a headier turn.

His touches became more electrifying than before, more desperate against her skin. Elena's heart began to race as the vision of the two of them flashed across her mind,. Him tearing off her dress, her hands combing and tugging through his hair. Kisses as smooth and intoxicating as wine, and a specific sting of pleasure originating from between her thighs as his hands moved to part them....

Elena gasped as she awoke, a flush quickly colouring her cheeks as she realized what she'd been dreaming about. Oh god. This was bad.

She shut the book that had been lying on her chest and sat up onto the chair, placing her hand against her chest as her heart began to slow down. But the desire lingered... it pooled low in her stomach, an insistent urge that seemed to taunt her.

Without a second thought, she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She texted SOS to Caroline and Bonnie, though she had little idea as to what she was actually going to tell them. All she knew was that something was starting to consume her.

・❥・

They came quickly and without issue; the vampires that watched the house while Elijah was away knew Bonnie and Caroline well enough to allow them in without asking too many questions. They directed them to the library where Elena had lingered, awaiting the arrival of her friends. The romance books were stacked on the furthest corner of the table.

"Where'd Dominic go? He was cute." Caroline pouted as she entered the library, her eyes scanning the library. Bonnie followed suit, and Elena quietly shut the doors behind the three of them. The walls weren't soundproofed, but most of the vampire guard left her well enough alone, not finding her interesting enough to spy on beyond being the doppelgänger.

Elena let out a soft snort. "Elijah made him leave at my request."

"Ohh." Caroline kissed her teeth in an impressed way with a smirk on her glossy lips. "So he listens to you now. How domestic." She tilted her head in her usual fashion, platinum curls swaying.

"Playing house with an Original is certainly one way to go about all of this." Bonnie chimed in, brows raised.

Bonnie and Caroline weren't shy about their suspicions of Elijah; Bonnie less so. Caroline's was sort of mixed with admiration for his jawline.

"It could be worse, and we are actively trying to avoid that." Elena combed her fingers through her hair again, leading the two of them through to her usual reading spot. Caroline collapsed into a neighbouring chair and Bonnie absentmindedly flipped through the copy of Pride and Prejudice that Elena had left on the table. Elena resisted the urge to wince.

"The one where you're sacrificed in some freaky hybrid ritual? Yeah, guess so." Caroline hummed.

“Until then, I play house with an Original.” Elena sighed quietly.

"How much longer is this going to go on for, anyway? It's been what, a year?" Bonnie asked. Elena could feel her protectiveness coming through as her best friend, but also her deep disdain for the Originals as a witch. She'd never been onboard with the idea, but had left Elena to her own choices, especially if it meant keeping her safe.

"Yeah. I don't know," Elena sighed quietly. "He has a lead, but it's not enough. Sometimes it feels like he wants this war to happen, but like he doesn't really want to kill Klaus. He said it's a waiting game."

"Then maybe he doesn't want you to leave." Caroline said bluntly. She shifted around in the chair, placing her elbow on the arm of it to run her fingers through her blonde curls.

Elena's eyes flickered up to Caroline's in confusion. "What are you saying?"

"What I'm saying is maybe he doesn't want you to leave, Elena. He called it a waiting game because if he kills Klaus, there won't be a reason for you to stay here anymore." Elena shook her head at Caroline's words.

"That's ridiculous. Neither of us want to be in this situation, it's just an arrangement we both benefit from."

"As long as you're still benefiting from it too, not just him." Bonnie added, closing the book she was flipping through and returning it back onto the table. The tone of the room seemed to shift into a more serious air, but Bonnie thankfully shifted it back. Elena wanted to focus on a problem she could actually potentially solve. Klaus and Elijah would have to wait.

"So, why the SOS? You seemed freaked." Bonnie asked. Elena cleared her throat, absentmindedly combing her fingers through her hair. How would she even begin to explain this horrendously personal issue?

“I just…” Elena released a small sigh. “I’ve just been having a bit of a hard time lately.”

Bonnie nodded in a sage, obvious way. “Yeah, Elena- someone’s trying to ki-“

“Not that.” She interrupted.

Bonnie glanced at Caroline with an odd look, but Caroline's discerning gaze never left hers. It silently spurred her to continue. Having her romantic dreams was one thing, but talking about it?

Okay, it's Bonnie and Caroline. They won't judge.

“I’ve been having a hard time because I’ve been having a lot of dreams lately…” The pair of them watched her without moving. “And they’ve been pretty, uh - romantic? In nature?”

A knowing smirk crossed across Caroline’s lips. “You mean sexy dreams, don’t you, Elena?”

Elena’s closed her eyes in silent defeat, pressed her lips into a thin line and gave a quick nod.

“Wait, about Elijah?” Bonnie asked in surprise.

“No- no,” Elena hoped they didn’t notice how quickly she’d responded. “There’s never a face in the dreams. It’s just a man.”

“Wow, Elena,” Bonnie grinned. “Is that it? You had us scared.”

“You’re basically in heat,” Caroline giggled.

Elena pressed her fingers against her forehead, wondering if this was a mistake. “I'd really rather not call it that but... because of the nature of my situation here, it's kind of difficult for me to do anything - practical about it. So... what do I do about it?”

“Well, isn’t it kinda obvious? You just need to get some.” Caroline’s nimble fingers disappeared into her jeans and she pulled out her phone, typing away. Elena was almost afraid to ask. “I can totally set you up with someone. No strings, just sex. I know just the guy.”

Caroline flipped her phone around to hold up a picture of a young guy. Athletic, brown hair, charming smile. He was cute. The angle of the photo sort of reminded her of-

“Who's this?" Elena nodded towards the photo on the phone.

“His name’s Noah. Friend of a friend’s roommate, so not a total rando, but anonymous enough. Let me get his number from my friend.”

Caroline’s fingers quickly returned to typing and suddenly the plan was forming right before Elena’s eyes. Her friends were certainly efficient.

Though, as she took a moment to think about it - she wasn’t entirely certain if she could be the type to do this, to meet up with a random guy just for sex.

“There’s only one problem.” Bonnie interjected. “How is she going to meet him? I doubt Elijah will let her leave the house for a date with some guy, and inviting him here just so Elena can sleep with him would be-“

“Weird.” Elena finished. “Very weird.”

Caroline thought for a moment, typed a few more things in her phone, and nodded to herself in satisfaction. “We’ll just have to make it a little more organic. Like a founder’s party!”

“A founder’s party is more organic?” Bonnie smirked. “That’s like, a huge event with a ton of people.”

“Yeah, and there’s no guarantee Elijah will let me leave for that either.” Elena added.

“He won’t have to,” Caroline’s enthusiasm was enough to make her blonde curls bounce around her shoulders. Her optimism was as endearing as it was contagious. “We’ll have it here!”

“Here?” Elena and Bonnie both chimed in.

“Uh-huh. I’m head of Mayor Lockwood’s party planning committee for the summer. It's a masquerade theme. No one will know who you are, or who you're meeting with. I can totally convince her to have it here."

“And by convince, you mean…?” Elena trailed off, narrowing her eyes with a suspicious smile.

“With my awesome powers of persuasion, of course." Caroline said with a light laugh, though her eyes didn't stray from her phone for long. Elena knew the logistics were already flying through her head.

"And Elijah?" Elena added. "I'm not sure he'll be all that thrilled with this idea."

"That's your job, you'll just have to convince him. Not even Originals are resistant to doppelgänger charms. We kind of have centuries of proof of that." She added wryly.

“But, Care, isn’t this a lot of trouble just to get me-”

“Laid?” Bonnie offered helpfully. The three girls giggled, but a flush crept up on Elena's cheeks.

“Yeah, exactly. And what if we don’t even hit it off?”

“Oh, come on, Elena." Caroline placed her phone down to raise her hands, lying them flat with palms raised to the ceiling. She made pointed eye contact with Elena, raising her thin brows. "Girl likes boy, boy likes girl - sex.” She clapped them together for dramatic effect.

“Profound.” Elena teased, rolling her eyes. As the idea settled over her, she did wonder if the had a point... "But... I guess you're right. I've been so bored here, I could use a little drama again."

"Eek! I'll get right on it. Come on, Bonnie, I'm going to need all the help I can get." Bonnie shot Elena a playfully sorrowful look at being wrapped up in Caroline's committee plans once more as she was dragged out of the library.

・❥・

Two days passed without incident. Elijah was gone, likely following more Klaus leads, and Elena had the run of the house on her own. Bonnie and Caroline texted her constantly with updates about the party. Caroline had even managed to get Noah's number, and promised Elena he'd text her.

Elena sat in the very gardens the library looked out onto under the shade of a willow tree. It drooped all around her like a canopy, shading her and protecting her under its heavy branches. She leaned against the trunk of it, with her legs crossed in the lush grass. Her diary rested against her left forearm, fingers bent over the top of the pages as she wrote.

Day 338.

Dear Diary -

Her pen hovered over the page. Words seem to hang in the precipice, but...

Nothing came.

Elena groaned to herself, flicking the pen between her fingers as she stared out at the gardens. The sun was at its apex above her, bathing everything in a hazy warmth of a summer's day.

She squinted against the light, listening to the rustling of the trees around her. In her periphery, she saw one of the guard vampires keeping an eye on her. She chose to ignore him, looking back down at the blank lined pages of her diary.

How could she express anything when she wasn't even sure what she was feeling herself?

The reality of her situation wasn't particularly easy to ignore; a supernatural entity in her own right, a lamb to be sacrificed on the altar of Klaus' ambitions, and the pawn of his half-brother's leverage.

In the beginning, it all seemed simple enough; his protection in exchange for her cooperation, but as the months passed, it became very clear that it wasn't simple; Elijah's power and unflinching ability to kill was always in the back of her mind even in the brief, civil conversations they shared. The only factor that allowed any trust to grow on her behalf was her knowing that her life was their common interest.

Elijah's eyes flashed in her mind. The way he'd looked at her in the library just before he walked away. That discerning look that both unsettled and invigorated her. The feeling of his arms around her when she'd fallen from the ladder, and how relieved she felt the moment she'd realized it was he who had caught her.

But then she remembered the way he'd shut down the conversation earlier in the week in the sitting room, the way he'd refused to listen to her at so many turns. Elena clenched her jaw at the memory. If the supernatural world had taught her anything, it was that naivety would get you killed. Elena sought to see the good in everyone, but she knew if it benefited him, Elijah would be just as likely to kill her as Klaus was. She couldn't let herself forget that.

Elena's phone buzzed on the grass next to her, the screen lighting up to show a new text message.

[Unknown: 4:45pm] - Hey, is this Elena?

[Elena: 4:46pm] - It is - is this Noah?

[Unknown: 4:46pm] - The very same.

Elena quickly changed the contact info in her phone, somewhat impressed at how quickly he was texting her back.

[Noah: 4:47pm] - Caroline said I could text you, hope that's okay. I've heard a lot about you.

Elena smirked. Caroline was nothing if not quick.

[Elena: 4:47pm] - And it's all true.

[Noah: 4:47pm] - I hope so.

[Noah: 4:47pm] - But I aim to find out for myself.

Elena bit her lip to stop the small smile. Cute, and he knew how to flirt. Maybe this was a good idea after all. She found herself typing something a little more forward than she usually would.

[Elena: 4:49pm] - Well, there's this masquerade... Maybe we'll see who finds who first.

Elena's eyes watched the screen, but the typing bubbles flickered and disappeared on Noah's side and did not return. Was that too much? The buzz of excitement began to wear off and she suddenly felt a bit ridiculous about the whole thing. Replacing the phone back onto the grass, she picked up her journal and decided to focus on the task at hand. Noah could wait.

As she pressed pen to paper again, her thoughts threatened to stray back...

Like a dream materialized, a figure clad in a black suit emerged in the distance. Elena's squinted gaze stared as the man neared her, and she quickly realized it was Elijah walking towards her. She stuck her fingers in her diary and shut it closed, pushing herself up off the ground, phone forgotten on the ground. Despite the summery warmth, he was dressed in his usual attire; a grey-black suit made of an expensive looking fabric, a pressed black shirt underneath, with a supple silk tie at his throat. Elena always felt incredibly underdressed in his presence, and this time was no exception.

"Elena."

Elena smiled a bit at the familiar sound of her name coming from his lips, though the tone remained distant. He stepped underneath the willow, and the cool shadows enveloped him along with her.

"Elijah." She returned politely.

"You weren't in the library. I thought I might find you here." He noted, then nodded down at the diary in her hands. "Are you trying your hand at writing one of your own?"

"I used to want to be a writer." She admitted, glancing down at her diary shyly.

"Used to?" He asked, his hands slipping into the pockets of his trousers. The wind blew at his hair gently, and small pockets of sunlight escaped between the willow branches to illuminate his face. His features were beautiful, she decided. Chiseled, timeless. An enticing lure, tempting countless victims over centuries. Elena swallowed.

"A lot's changed." She said, her voice shaking slightly. She cleared it quietly. "I'm not sure what I want anymore." Talking to him sometimes it felt as though she were voicing the most intimate thoughts possible, even though the conversation was innocuous enough. Everything felt like it had a secret dual meaning that neither of them admitted to.

Elijah nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. Did he know about her own internal battle? For a brief moment, she thought they flickered down to her lips, but then his gaze dropped down to the ground. Elena's fell to her shoes.

"I hope you find what it is you want, Elena."

"Thank you."

Elena's gaze returned to him, but for a beat, his did not. She saw a muscle work in his jaw, then he straightened his neck and regarded her. His eyes seemed to cool slightly, as though he remembered he'd come for a reason.

"It is as I suspected. Klaus is creating an army of followers that are hoping to become one of his hybrids, and it's growing. It is evident he's preparing for conquest, and he'll start leaving a bloody trail all over the country until he finds the town the doppelgänger is located in." She watched something unreadable flicker in his eyes, and she swallowed at the news.

"I've been amassing my own strength in preparation for this. There is still yet time, my sources say he is not prepared to mobilize, and there is further information to suggest he has not yet targeted Mystic Falls. The witches' cloaking spell is holding, and I have found others to join them."

Elena nodded at the information, fingers fidgeting with the diary in her hands. Her fingers suddenly felt sweaty against the leather bound cover, and she lifted it to tuck underneath her arm, pressing it against her chest. The gravity of the battle between brothers was beginning to weigh on her, and now talk of an actual war over her blood. It was evident the information was concerning enough that he'd elected to share it with her without her prompting; it had never happened before. Though it felt like a further assurance of their growing trust, she couldn't ignore the fear that grew in her chest at this newfound knowledge. He was coming for her.

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome, Elena." It looked like he wanted to say more, perhaps considered some words of assurance or kindness, but the silence grew, and the moment was lost.

Elijah lowered his head in his gallant way, and slowly turned away from her. Elena pressed her back against the trunk of the tree again, ready to sink back into her thoughts, until she noticed him pausing, then turning back around again. He removed his right hand from his pocket, and pressed the side of his index finger against his lips as if in thought. When his eyes found hers again, she felt something unknown twinge deep inside her chest.

"One more thing. Will you join me for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Elena's mouth parted in surprise. Caroline's voice rang in her mind. So domestic.

"Oh- yes. I will."

"I'll see you at seven then."

With that, he left. Once he was out of sight, Elena's back slid roughly down against the trunk until she reached the grassy floor. The information about Klaus, then the dinner invitation - it was enough to give her whiplash. She glanced down at her phone, and when she pressed the screen, a new text from Noah popped up.

[Noah: 4:59pm] - You're on ;)

Her diary was still pressed to her body, and she pulled it out to the page she'd been writing in.

Dear Diary - for the first time in months, it looks like I have dinner plans.

・❥・

The next evening, as the grandfather clock tolled 7 o'clock, the dining room had been transformed. The table was precisely and immaculately set with delicate white porcelain tableware that seemed to glow under the soft light of the candles next to them. The small flames flickered haphazardly in tandem with the fire that roared from the fireplace across the room. The warmth that grew from the fires enveloped the room in a sultry embrace, and the dimness even more so. Crisp crimson napkins were folded on either of their silver cutlery which winked against the settings on the dark wood of the table.

Elena emerged from the darkness of the hallways into the light. She'd opted for a nice dress instead of her usual go-to of a long sleeve henley and jeans, though she knew that anything she would wear, Elijah would upstage her. The navy dress hugged her waist and hips with delicate layers of chiffon that glittered in a subtle way, with a straight neckline and two thing straps. In the candlelight, it caught every minute sparkle. It was the nicest thing she'd brought with her, and therefore the only option for the evening. She'd left her hair untouched, but took care to wash it and oil the ends so it shined.

In truth, she didn't know what she was doing here.

She'd agreed to have dinner with Elijah Mikaelson, and taken care to look nice for it, but to what end? What had possessed her to agree? What had possessed him to offer?

Elena's certainty seemed to fade in his very presence, and with Bonnie and Caroline's plan swirling in the back of her mind, she found it all the more difficult to maintain it once she saw him standing there, hand placed on the back of one of the chairs.

His eyes seemed appreciative of what he saw, and she couldn't help but feel a flutter in her stomach.

"Elijah." She started the volley this time, the heels of her sandals clicking against the hardwood floors as she approached the dinner table.

"Elena."

For the first time, she saw what looked to be an actual smile flicker on his lips. His hand fell from the back of his chair to pull out the one adjacent, and Elena followed, quietly thanking him as she sat down in the chair.

"Wine?"

Elena nodded, and Elijah swiftly removed the cork of a likely decades-old bottle of red wine to pour into her wine glass. Not a single crimson drop spilled. He poured it into his own as well, and settled down into his chair. She reached for her wine glass and sipped at the vintage. It was divine.

"Thank you for joining me." Elijah said, his voice soft. The dinner felt royal in its ornamentations, but the company was intimate.

"And the occasion?" She asked as she placed the glass back down on the table.

"I felt I have perhaps been remiss in my welcome when you first arrived."

"Kind of a belated welcome by now." Elena laughed softly, and Elijah chuckled.

"I still sometimes forget that time passes differently for humans. I suppose it's better late than never, don't you agree?"

Elena nodded, the Founder's Party plan lingering in the back of her mind. Perhaps if things continued to go well, she could convince him after all.

Their conversation was interrupted by the first course coming in, and the food was so sublime Elena found it difficult to turn her attention. to anything else for most of the dinner. Course after course came, until dessert was placed in front of her. The conversation had been light, never straying far from niceties and light topics. At one point, Elena looked up from her dinner to find Elijah looking at her with an untraceable gaze, and she had to reach for her wine just to settle the jolt in her stomach.

Once the dessert had been consumed, she felt properly satisfied.

Elena pushed her finished plate away, and picked up her glass, the last of the wine disappearing between her lips. She felt it seer through her stomach, a warm, lively feeling. Sitting there with Elijah, drinking, talking... it felt much the same. Natural.

Elijah cleared his throat quietly.

"Elena, I... I also wanted to apologize for my behaviour the other day, and perhaps for the last few months. It was dishonourable of me. Perhaps we can come to a better understanding of each other."

"Oh. Thank you, Elijah." Elena smiled. Elijah returned it, collecting the napkin from his lap and placing it onto the table. This is as good a time as any, she thought to herself, biting the inside of her cheek. He seemed to be amenable today. "To be honest, I thought this was a good opportunity to ask something of you as well. Perhaps if you agree, we can call it even."

Elijah titled his head towards her in curiosity. "Yes?"

Elena felt her fingers fumbling slightly beneath the table.

"Well, over the last few months, I've felt rather restricted, so in the spirit of better understanding each other, I think some fun would be good for me. So, Caroline, Bonnie and I want to host this year's Founder's Party here. It's a masquerade."

A quiet laugh escaped Elijah's lips. "You'd like to host it here?"

"Yes. That way, I get a night of normalcy and fun, and I'd still be under your protection. The guard can come too."

"The guard?" He asked.

"It's what I call Dominic and the other bodyguard vampires."

"I see." His lips pressed into a thin line, fingers tapping absentmindedly on the table. "I suppose logistically, there would be some discussions to be had, but..."

"But?" Elena prompted with a small mile.

"Very well. Have your party."

"Thank you, Elijah."

"Regretfully, I will not be attending, but I believe you can play the hostess for both of us."

Elena's face fell slightly, but nodded. "More Klaus news?"

"In a way."

Elena didn't prompt any further, and Elijah did not offer any more answers, as was typical. She felt frustration begin to bubble up in her chest, and found her mouth moving before she could think about what she was saying.

"I understand there is a lot at stake..."

There was a silence for a beat, then another. Elena felt his eyes on her, gauging her next words, as she trailed off. He knew she had something else on her mind, and she couldn't stop now.

"But?" He prompted, raising a brow. His elbows were on the table, fingers interlaced in front of his chin.

Elena opened her mouth to speak just as someone entered the room. A few of the vampires began collecting the empty plates that were left. She paused, each of them thanking them for their assistance until Elijah signalled that they should not be further disturbed. The doors to the dining room were shut, and the room suddenly felt stifling. Elena shifted in her chair, but set her jaw in determination.

"But," She began again, meeting his eyes. "Does there have to be?"

"What do you mean?"

"What if... we did somehow find a way to kill Klaus? Only Klaus." She remembered her briefly mentioning it in the library and how he'd immediately shut the conversation down.

"Elena." Her eyes flickered up to meet his, and she recognized it wasn't anger in his eyes. He was imploring her. "Don't do this."

"But Elijah, it's possible we haven't explored every possible avenue. Now you're both creating these armies. No one else in this war needs to die. If we were able to somehow get him isolated-"

"And how do you suppose we would do that?" Elijah stood from his place at the table slowly, then reached for the back of her chair. He stood just at the corner of her leftmost periphery, and she felt her heart begin race. Despite any bravado she might put on, she was simply the prey to the predator.

Too distracted to answer his initial question, he continued.

"How would you, a human girl, expect to kill Klaus? Do you have any idea of what he would do to you if he finally captured you?" Elijah placed his hand on the left armrest of her chair, hovering just over her left shoulder. She turned her head to look up at him, struck by how close he was getting to her.

"Not counting the ritual, of course. We know that he plans to do then. What I mean is everything that would happen before. All that built-up rage at my family, at all the time he's lost, and the hate that has been brewing towards Katerina at taking his chance away five hundred years ago. What do you think will happen once he sees your pretty face? The same one that has evaded him for so long?"

Elijah's hand slowly reached out, his fingers delicately raising her chin so that she met his eyes fully. Elena swallowed, but willed her eyes to stay trained on him. Despite his frightening words, all she could feel was the heat of his touch on her skin. Was it the wine? Was it her adrenaline? Or was it simply Elijah?

"Answer me."

Elena took a breath into her lungs and held it. His fingers didn't drop from her face, his thumb even beginning to trace over her chin delicately.

"I don't know." She admitted. "Terrible things."

"You could only hope for terrible things, Elena. There is nothing Niklaus is not capable of."

"And what about what I'm capable of?" She returned, steeling her gaze the way she'd seen him do against her so many times. "Perhaps the idea of sitting still for months is losing its charm, Elijah. Perhaps it's simply less appealing than dying trying."

Elijah's hand fell from her face, and she felt herself gaining traction. He stepped back towards his own chair, facing the fires once more.

"If I'm going to die anyway, I will always choose to die trying to save the people I love, and in the process, I might regain some of my life that I have lost this past year."

“I’m the reason you still have your life at all.” He reminded her coldly, turning around to face her. She stepped away from the table and towards him, though his face was once again shadowy with the flames at his back. The moments when he looked at her like this, it frightened her the most. Like he could just shut his humanity off instantly. She swallowed before she spoke, the words desperate to escape her lips.

“Yes, you are. You took me in and kept me here for my safety, and every day, like a little bird, I sing my thanks for you in my gilded cage. I read books, I plant flowers, I sit and I wait, day after day. I need a life again. I need… to feel again. To feel like I can do things, Elijah, things that fulfill my mind and- ” And my body.

She paused, refusing to say those two words. He looked at her expectantly as if he knew she'd ended the sentence prematurely.

“And… I want to feel passion before my last days come for me. Another cage that I’ll die in.”

“Elena,” This time, her name sounded strained in his mouth, like it was pulled from somewhere deep in his chest.

“If all you’re going to tell me is that this is necessary, I don’t really want to hear it. All I hear is more Mikaelson pride.”

"There is more at stake here, Elena." His tone was more direct than she'd heard from him before, like he was loathe to say the words out loud. He took a step towards her in the process as though wanting to keep the conversation between them. Elena looked up at him with her brows furrowed. What else would be possibly more important killing Klaus?

Elijah released a soft breath, and she watched as a muscle worked in his jaw.

"He has my family."

"What? How?"

"Niklaus has every one of my siblings daggered and in coffins hidden somewhere. I don't even know if he keeps them together or has sent them to opposite sides of the globe or to the bottom of the ocean. He is the only person who knows where they are, and he is using them as leverage against me," His eyes flickered to hers and lingered heavily. "To get you."

"And you're using me as leverage for that too... to get them back."

Elijah nodded.

Elena clenched her jaw. "Fine."

Caroline was wrong. It's not me he wants to keep. It's his family he wants to find. That's why he won't kill Klaus.

"Thank you for the dinner, Elijah. I'll be in my room."

Elena's tone became clipped, and she could hear it herself. She wasn't certain what she'd been expecting; of course she was only leverage. Either to kill Klaus or to get his family back. There was never anything more to it.

"Elena," Elijah's hand came upon hers and she stopped her tracks. "Rest assured, this war will not end with me handing you over to Klaus. You have my word."

Elena met Elijah's eyes and saw the genuineness in his face. But they weren't enough to forget that she was truly just a bargaining chip. She pulled her hand out from underneath his and began to walk away.

"We'll see what it's worth."

・❥・

Three days passed and Elena hadn't seen nor heard of Elijah. She'd barely even heard from Noah apart from an occasional text here or there, but she couldn't fault him for his timeliness; it wasn't as though she was particularly responsive either. All she could think about was what Elijah said at dinner.

He promised her that he would never hand her over to Klaus, yet with the promise of being reunited with his family after centuries, who would be able to resist that bargain? Perhaps that's why he never told her, even after a year - he knew he wouldn't be able to. He knew the life of the doppelgänger was only worth as much as he could get for it - three other Original siblings... and a successfully turned hybrid half-brother.

Still, she had Bonnie and Caroline to thank for a distraction. If Caroline wasn't texting her updates or asking her opinions on flower arrangements, she was over at the house bossing around decorators and contractors. Elijah had given her full reign, perhaps as an apology to Elena for not actually being as forthright as he'd claimed. She didn't care, she told herself. After all, what truly changed?

Nothing.

Except for the night before the Founder's Party.

In the depths of slumber, Elena's visions returned to her, passionate as ever. Only this time..

"Elijah," She moaned as his weight pressed into her deliciously. His hands ran down the length of her thighs to bunch her gown around her hips, pushing her up against the wall with the party just outside the door. The din of the chatter was far away from her ears as she heard him groan into her neck, his fingers fumbling for the belt to his trousers. She heard it clink as he pulled down his trousers, and pulled her dress back. The thought of getting caught - it thrilled her. She sighed at the feeling of his chest pressing into hers as he parted her thighs, fingers brushing against her wetness, then used his hand to guide himself insi-

Elena's body ripped itself from the binds of the sheets as she jolted awake. Her hair stuck to her forehead from the sweat that beaded on her skin. Her entire body felt like it was on fire. As the dream slowly began to disappear and the cool night settled upon her, she realized she was alone. He wasn't here.

She tried to ignore the conflicting feelings that roiled inside of her as she pulled the tangled sheets off her body, welcoming the chill of the air as goosebumps rose over her skin. However, the telltale sign of her desire still lingered, a wetness between her thighs and a pulsing that was difficult to ignore.

"God," Elena hissed, pressing her fingers against her forehead. This had gone too far now... but she wouldn't give in. She refused. Determined, she shut her eyes tightly and begged for sleep to return to her, but before she could even hope to fall asleep in earnest, the sun rose to wake her.

Elena's limbs ached... among other things. She purposefully ignored it as she stretched in her bed, pausing only when she spotted something hanging on her closet door.

She pushed the covers off, walking on stiff limbs until she could reach out and touch the glittery gown hanging in all of its glory. It hung nearly to the floor, with delicate black sheer fabric enveloping a glittering gold shift beneath it. The bodice was the blackest part of the dress, with tiny dark gems sewn into it that were sprinkled all the way down the dress as the skirt gradually revealed the gold gradient. A matching black mask hung by its ribbons, tied to the hanger.

Tucked between the metal rods of the hanger was a small note.

A token of our understanding - E.

・❥・

"Even I must credit you, Caroline. Your work is impressive." Elijah's eyes surveyed the hall, noting each impressive detail of the tables, the champagne flutes, the flower arrangements. There were two large twin staircases that descended from the upstairs level that were covered in a plush, velvet carpet and lined with bouquets of fresh flowers all the way up. Elijah nodded in approval. "I'm glad to see my money being put to good use."

"Thank you. It was a generous donation." Caroline said cooly, though not unkindly. "This may be a Founder's Party, but I'm doing it for Elena." She glanced down at the clipboard in her hands, then her eyes swept over all the moving pieces coming together in the ballroom.

"Hey! I said roses on the small tables, not the big ones!" Caroline shouted, huffing as she scribbled something on the paper in front of her.

Elijah watched the scene with amusement, slowly stepping along with Caroline as she flit from one table to another, adjusting the flowers until they were perched just so.

"Elena is lucky to have so many in her life so intent on her happiness."

"And let me guess, you'd be so bold as to count yourself among them?"

"Whether you and Elena would like to believe or not."

Caroline laughed at that, a light but cutting sound. "Well, I don't. But don't worry, she'll be happy tonight." Her fingers disappeared between the stems to pull out one rose that hadn't fully bloomed yet, the tips of the petals just barely beginning to open. She placed the rose onto the table to readjust the hole it had left behind in the arrangement, focusing on the larger blooms.

Elijah smirked at Caroline's bluntness. "Yes, my absence will hardly be noticed, I'm sure."

"She'll have her hands full tonight. Playing hostess, a date, romance, passion. Fun. It's what she deserves." Caroline said offhandedly.

"A date?"

"Mm-hmm. I set her up with a friend of a friend of mine, Noah. A good, normal guy." Caroline turned from arranging the roses, picking up the clipboard from the side of the table. Her eyes found Elijah's with a piercing look, a smile she didn't mean placed upon glossy lips. "You and your brother may have trapped her in this fairytale, but I'm giving her the happy ending. So don't get in the way."

Caroline's eyes dropped from Elijah's and refocused just over his shoulder towards the front foyer. "Bonnie! There you are! I need you to..." The blonde's voice trailed off as she disappeared to wrangle her friend.

Elijah's gaze fell on the rose on the table, and after a moment of consideration, picked it up with a delicate hand, and walked out of the ballroom.

・❥・

Elena gazed at herself in the mirror for a moment longer. The dress cleaved itself to every curve in her body, and the glimmer of the beading made her eyes sparkle. She'd done her hair in loose curls to cascade over her shoulder, and her makeup a little smokier than usual. The satin black gloves felt soft against her arms and with the accompanying mask perched on her nose, she felt like beautiful. She felt like a queen.

But he wouldn't see her like this.

Despite his acquiescence, she knew Elijah wouldn't be attending, whether he thought she didn't want him there or if preferred to recuse himself for her sake, she couldn't say. Perhaps it was neither and he wanted only to observe from a distance, like some vampiric phantom of the Founder's Party.

Still, she would enjoy herself, she decided. She didn't need Elijah for that. The dress spoke for itself, even if he wasn't here to see her in it.

She could hear the din of guests beginning to arrive on the main floor just outside of her room, but could hardly bring herself to leave. She was too afraid of the night ending as quickly as it would begin.

"Elena?" A soft knock accompanied Bonnie's voice, and Elena turned as she slowly entered the room. Both girls smiled and hugged each other tightly, shutting the door behind them. Just another moment alone couldn't hurt.

"Wow, Bonnie, you look so beautiful."

Her gown was a deep navy, with a sweetheart neckline. The matching mask had gold accents embedded in it with delicate swirls.

"So do you, Elena." She could tell Bonnie wanted to ask where the dress was from, but she changed the subject.

"How did you escape Caroline?"

"She sent me up here to make sure you were ready. She said the timing of the hostess' arrival is everything." Bonnie rolled her eyes with a small smirk. Elena laughed.

"Of course she did. Thank you, Bonnie. Caroline too. I can't believe what you've done for me."

"Honestly, we kind of couldn't have done it without Elijah," Elena could see that it gave Bonnie no satisfaction to give him the credit, but she had to admit it. "Almost too bad he's not coming to see it all put together."

"I suppose so."

"So, you ready?"

"Yes, let me just grab my clutch. Can you grab my phone off the dresser?" Elena turned around, the gown rustling against her legs as she reached for her black bag.

Bonnie turned and swiped it from the dresser, but as she went to hand it to Elena, it buzzed.

"Oh - Noah texted you!"

Elena took the phone from Bonnie, feeling a wave of uncertainty wash over her chest. She opened the text and accompanying photo.

"Oh. Yeah, he sent me a picture of his mask."

It was a shiny black, but with a crimson gradient around the eyes. It looked almost devilish in nature, or even vampiric. Elena bit her lip in thought.

Bonnie noted Elena's less-than-enthusiastic tone and placed her hands on Elena's arms.

"Don't worry, Elena. You'll have a great time tonight no matter what. And when it comes to that... You never know, it could all be a surprise." Elena smiled softly as she took Bonnie's arm and slowly descended down to the party.

・❥・

Down in the foyer of the party, guests began filling in until the hall was nearly full to bursting. Word had spread that the annual Founder's Party had become one of the most illustrious events of the year thanks to Elijah's contributions, Caroline's planning, and Bonnie's help. The guest list had been tightly controlled as a result, partially due to the increased interest, and partially due to Elijah keeping tabs on who exactly was in his home, with one name of interest to Elijah in particular.

Noah walked up onto the front steps of the manor, dressed in a black suit with the crimson mask placed on his face, and approached one of the vampires working security. The man peered at Noah through his mask.

"Good evening. Name?"

"Noah. I'm a guest of Elena Gilbert's."

The vampire levelled him with an unreadable expression, then smiled. "This way, please."

・❥・

"Wait, where did he go? I just saw him!" Caroline stretched her neck over the crowd, peering through her golden mask. Her gown was light blue with delicate layers of glittering tulle, and her mask entirely enveloped in gold satin.

"Maybe he went to get a drink?" Bonnie offered.

"We'll keep an eye out. He's around here somewhere." Elena waved it off.

Caroline, Bonnie and Elena peered over the crowds of hundreds swirling around the hall. Music, dancing, and lively conversation filled the room, and Elena felt a weight disappear from her chest for the first time. As much as she disdained the fairytale jokes, it almost felt like a Cinderella moment.

In the sea of faces, three suddenly materialized. Jeremy, Matt, and Tyler all appeared in front of the girls, gallant in their tuxes and mysterious in their masks, and held their arms out to them. Matt smiled at Elena and she smiled back. "May we have this dance, ladies?"

"You may!"

Bonnie took Jeremy's hand, Caroline took Tyler's, and Elena took Matt's as they were whisked away into the flurry of dancing gowns.

・❥・

At the behest of the security guard, Noah was guided down an empty corridor, away from the party and instructed to enter the room at the end of the hall. He never got a clear answer as to why; perhaps Elena planned to meet him privately. Noah entered the dark room with trepidation and shut the door behind him quietly.

It looked mostly unused, an old stone fireplace, blackened with old soot, what looked like a couple of chairs with some white sheets thrown over them, and some empty bookshelves that looked caked with dust. Only the light that escaped from beneath the door and what little moonlight came through the small window lit his way inside.

"Elena?"

Noah stepped further inside, removing the mask from his face, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

"I'm afraid she's not here at the moment."

Noah started at the sound of a male voice in the room with him, just as Elijah flickered on a small lamp on a table on the far side of the room. He sat authoritatively behind the desk, and Noah let out an awkward laugh at the intimidating figure.

“Sorry, I’m looking for Elena, this girl I’m supposed to meet-“

“I’m aware. I’ve decided I'm interested in discussing the matter with you.”

Noah looked confused. Elijah awaited his response, levelling him with his stare.

“Oh- ha.” Noah snorted. “I don't have anything to say about it.”

“I see." He spoke with a thin thread of patience. "Perhaps it's because I have been remiss in my introduction. My name is Elijah Mikaelson. This is my house." Elijah gestured generally towards the room.

"As your cooperation could save your life…” Elijah’s eyes narrowed in the dim light. “I suggest you reconsider talking.”

Noah’s eyes went wide. “I-I just just got this call from my roommate, Julian, setting me up with her." He shrugged, cavalier as though this explanation would acquit him. Elijah raised a brow. “I was just hoping she was hot and down for it.”

“Julian. I see. And this girl - your intentions?” Elijah slowly began to stand from the desk, pausing only to re-button his suit jacket. He gracefully rounded the corner of the desk, his finger pressed against the tabletop, until he stood in front of the young man. Despite the proximity to the Original, Elijah had to note, he didn’t step back.

“My intentions? Well, I’m sure you could guess.” Noah smirked.

“Enlighten me.” Elijah smiled.

“Come on, man. You know if she was hot, obviously I was going to fu-“

Elijah’s hand punctured through the man’s chest before he could finish. The shock on his face quickly dissipated to nothingness as his body crumbled, and his heart rolled out of Elijah’s bloodied hand. It fell on the floor after its owner with two low thuds.

“You were right. I could’ve guessed. You couldn’t have.”

Whipping a white handkerchief from inside his suit pocket, he wiped off the blood from his fingers patiently.

Elijah crouched down by the man’s body, slipping his hand into his jacket pocket to retrieve his phone. He opened up the text conversation with Elena and scrolled through, then picked up the mask that had fallen out of his hands.

・❥・

The three girls crowded around one of the small tables, flutes of champagne in their gloved hands as they surveyed the crowd once more. After two dances, they'd excused themselves from the boys to reconvene and take a break. It seemed like with every moment that pass, Bonnie and Caroline were more determined to find Noah while Elena's certainty waned.

"Wait, there he is, I see him!" Bonnie pointed subtly in the midst of the crowd where Elena spotted the crimson mask Noah had sent her a photo of. She squinted at the man as he disappeared between the guests, only quick glimpses appearing thereafter.

"He's taller than I remember." Caroline murmured in some confusion.

"Where's he going?" Elena asked. Noah seemed to walk determinedly through the crowd, and Elena watched as he parted through the guests until he walked up the left side of the twin marble staircases and disappeared down the corridor.

Just then, Elena's phone buzzed.

[Noah: 11:36pm] - Come upstairs.

Elena's breath hitched in her throat.

[Noah: 11:36pm] - Down the left hall. Last door on the right.

"Oh god, okay, go, go, go!" Caroline shrieked, turning Elena around to face her and Bonnie to fix her hair and makeup.

"Tell us everything when you get back." Bonnie grinned, her fingers adjusting Elena's curls.

"Do everything I would do." Caroline added.

Elena gave a nervous laugh, and allowed herself to be nudged towards the path of the staircase by the pair of them.

Part of her wondered how Noah was bold enough to traverse the house and invite her upstairs without even saying a single word to her, but, she supposed, it sort of was what she wanted. Passion, adventure. Maybe even a little danger.

That was what she told herself as she picked up her skirts with one hand and placed her gloved hand on the marble railing as she slowly ascended the stairs, her heart beating faster with each and every step.

The party quickly fell away behind her, and all she could hear was her blood rushing in her ears as she slowly walked down the darkened hallway. She recognized most of the doors that she passed, but not all. The room that Noah was said to be in, she'd never set foot in before. It made her wonder what was waiting behind it, and if this was all a terrible idea.

Still, her hand reached out until her fingers met the doorknob. One last breath into her lungs, and she turned it, opening the door to the darkness inside. Once it shut behind her, the shadows swallowed her whole.

As her eyes slowly began to adjust, she realized it was a bedroom. A grand four-poster bed stood just off to the right side with silky looking sheets and lush pillows, the bay windows to the right of it providing a light glow of silvery moonlight, even behind the clouds that seemed to linger. To the left of the bed, a small wooden night table with a tray on it, two champagne flutes filled with bubbles, and something else she couldn't quite see. Even further to her left, her periphery suddenly noted, a darkened figure sat in the very corner, hidden from the moonlight.

She could just make out the crisp white of the dress shirt he was wearing, though most of his suit's details were lost to the darkness. Likewise, she recognized the shape of the mask on his face, but the colour of it and his features behind it were enshrouded in the shadows. Thankfully, her own mask didn't obstruct her vision too much. Elena swallowed but felt a small thrill run through her body once she heard him speak.

"Hello."

Elena's tongue darted out to wet her lips. Something about the way the L's rolled off his tongue struck her as familiar, but she quickly shook off the thought. She couldn't let herself get so carried away with her fantasies that Elijah would cloud her every sense in that moment. Besides, she swore, he wasn't here.

"Hello." Elena responded quietly. There was a pause, then she released a slight laugh. "To be honest, I don't know why I'm here."

"I think I do." Came his response but the snippets were too short for her to be sure. Don't. Just focus.

"Do you?" Elena asked, relaxing slightly as their words became more playful. "I would say that's presumptuous, but..."

"But?"

"But I'm willing to find out if you're right."

The slightest glint of his smile flashed underneath the mask as he gestured towards the silver tray with the glasses. "Please."

Elena stepped towards the tray and picked up one of the flutes, appreciating how generous of a pour she'd been given. The bubbles coated her mouth and tongue, and the alcohol slipped deliciously down her throat and into her stomach. She could feel every nerve in her body begin to electrify as the anticipation began to set in. As she took another drink, she glanced down at the tray and noticed the third item, a single red rose lying next to the other glass. Points for romance, she conceded, though she would've never expected it from someone like Noah.

Glass half drunk, she returned it to the tray and turned to face him once more. He nodded in approval, then tilted his head, the glint of the smile still lingering underneath his mask. His eyes seemed to appreciate what they were seeing, falling from the crown of her head down to the bottom of her gown.

"You look beautiful tonight."

"Thank you." Elena placed her hands on her abdomen, uncertain of what to do with them now. She could feel her own stiff breathing through the corseting of the gown. "I'd say the same, but truth be told, it's hard to see you."

"You'll see me. Perhaps in the mean time, you could imagine."

Imagine. Her imagination was running wild in that moment, and it was becoming difficult to ascertain fantasy from reality. Every moment felt like she was slipping into another one of her dreams, yet how could she deny what was right in front of her?

"But I'd like to see you, Elena." He murmured in the night. "Take off your gloves."

His command rattled something within her, something dark. Her hands slowly obeyed as she reached for her gloves. Elena's left hand began to pull off the fingers of her right, and once her hand was free, she pulled the left one off as well. The pair was draped onto the night table next to the tray, and she felt goosebumps rise up and down her arms.

Despite the darkness, he seemed to catch every single detail.

"Don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." Elena said determinedly, fighting off the shiver that threatened to come upon her.

He chuckled lowly. "I believe you."

"Is it your turn?" Elena asked.

"Soon." He promised. "Take off your dress. Slowly."

Elena took a breath into her lungs and held it. This was it. It was what she'd been dreaming about the last few nights. Passion, pleasure, all waiting for her...

Again, his command worked like a charm. The velvety sound of his voice was compelling enough for her to acquiesce without a second thought. It was what let her imagine so well, and she found her wanting it the more she slid into her fantasy. She slowly turned away from him and towards the bed.

The fabric rustled against her skin as she reached behind her and delicately unzipped the back of the dress. Her fingers trembled with every moment, and she hoped the darkness of the room concealed her nervousness well enough. As the fabric began to loosen around her body, she couldn't ignore the wishfulness that invaded her thoughts. The desire to have Elijah be the one to see her undress. What did it say about her that she accepted a gown from one man, only to take it off in front of another?

But there was little time to think about it now; she was in the room with someone who wanted her, who sought her out and who had the same intentions as she did. Not Elijah. She also couldn't ignore the desire that began to grow between her thighs at the sound of his silky voice ordering her to undress, at the thought of her being naked while he remained clothed.

Placing her hand against one of the posts of the bed, she balanced herself on one heel as she stepped out of the dress. She’d forgone the bra as the dress had boning in the bodice to support her, and otherwise wore only a scrap of fabric that she could barely dare call a thong, and the black heels on her feet. Finally, the dress fell to a pile of fabric and glitter on the floor, revealing her nakedness in the moonlight. The last thing to fall was her mask.

A shiver invaded her body and she felt goosebumps prickle over new newly uncovered her skin. Even her nipples hardened from the cool air. She resisted the urge to cover herself as she slowly turned around to reveal herself to the shadowed figure.

“Beautiful.” She heard his voice murmur again, unadulterated desire evident in his words. The sound of it fuelled her own; the thought that she could have this powerful of an effect on someone else.

Her heels still on her feet, she tucked her hair behind her ear shyly, then took a half-step towards the night stand where the champagne glasses were and tipped the rest of it back down her throat. She heard him chuckle lowly again.

“Now, lie down and close your eyes.”

He lifted one hand and gestured towards the bed, and she slowly set the glass down.

What if, she thought, what if I did imagine..

Elena sat onto the bed and swung her long legs up onto it, perching herself against the plush pillows. The silk was heavenly against her bare skin, and she felt herself sinking deeper into the middle of the sheets as her body relaxed each muscle.

There were brief moments where the room became darker as the moon outside was covered by rolling clouds, and in that instant, the room became almost pitch black. Her lashes fluttered closed.

Elena could hear him stand from his chair and walk towards the bed, taking his time with every step. He stopped at the nightstand where the champagne flutes stood, and with delicate fingers, picked up the second glass to tip back into his mouth. After he replaced the empty glass alongside the other one, he picked up the rose from the tray, and slowly sat on the edge of the bed next to her. Her body tensed slightly, uncertain. Her brows furrowed as she anticipated his next move. Still, her eyes remained closed, but she could only see Elijah behind them.

With a featherlight touch, he gently brushed the rose against her cheekbone. She smiled slightly, at once recognizing the texture and smell of the flower on her skin. As it lingered against her cheek, her body began to relax.

He continued his path; the rose’s petals delicately traced along the height of both cheekbones, down to the line of her jaw, and to the slender column of her throat. Her breathing hitched at the feeling. It followed the horizontal lines of her collarbone, steadily dipping lower and lower until it caressed against her sternum. Afterwards, she felt it brush against her breast. Elena’s breathing deepened, releasing a soft gasp at the softness kissing the sensitive skin.

At first, twirling the bud against the mound of her breast, he then brushed it gently upwards until it rose up to the peak of her nipple. A soft mew escaped her lips as he swept the rose against her stiffened nipple, over one then the other.

Elena sighed quietly at the feeling, her knees beginning to press together. She had to resist the urge to reach for him, to relinquish the game it seemed they were playing. It was even getting difficult to keep her eyes shut, but she was determined not to break her fantasy. His path continued; the petals dipped down the mound of her breast to the middle of her ribcage where it paused at her navel, just inches away from where her thong was.

Satisfied, his fingers gripped the stem of the rose as he slowly dragged it upwards back up her abdomen, her chest, her throat, and towards the plush curves of her lips. The anticipation was beginning to frustrate her, her fingers gently gripping the sheets beneath her. The rose arrived at its final destination; she felt the petal kissing her lips as softly as hers kissed it.

As the rose fell away, his lips replaced it with a kiss just as soft.

She gasped gently into his mouth at the feeling, so tender against hers. Something instantly sparked deep inside of her, and the kiss surrendered itself to desire as their mouths deepened against each other. She returned the fervour eagerly, delighting in the way he felt against her. It felt more natural than she could've ever expected, more right. Elena sighed into his mouth, her heels clicking together as she pulled her legs up towards herself, pressing her thighs together tightly.

His fingers came up to touch her jawline gently until they reached the back of her neck, and he pressed her mouth into hers more intently. Slowly, his tongue traced the line of her lips until she parted them, and she felt it meet her own. She liked the way he kissed, she decided. She liked the way he used his tongue against hers, almost as though he were rolling it in that familiar way... like when he said her name.

Elena.

Elena's eyes shot open. The crimson mask illuminated in the moonlight in front of her, Elena suddenly saw everything. The knowing smile, the discerning gaze beneath it. Elijah reached for the mask, and Elena's shock quickly turned into relief as his handsome face appeared before her. She wasn't dreaming; he was here, with her.

"Elijah." She panted.

"Elena." Elijah murmured, as he always did. This time, she heard her name differently, with desire dripping from every syllable. She wanted to hear more.

Elena quickly sat up in the bed to reach for him, her fingers slipping over his jaw and into his hair as she returned her lips to his. With no need for imagination, she gave herself fully into the revelation that it was Elijah next to her, his lips on hers, his hands on her body slowly slipping over her waist to pull her closer. She could nearly feel her soul burning at the sheer desperation of how much she wanted him, a wantonness that threatened to consume her.

Elijah was more than willing to do just that.

All else forgotten, Elena moaned into his mouth at the feeling of his large hands on the expanse of her body, her skin sizzling with each touch. It seemed her touch was just as intoxicating, as she felt Elijah grunt against her mouth, unwilling to separate their kiss as she pushed his suit jacket from his shoulders, and he loosened his tie from around his neck.

Her fingers traced the lines of his broad frame against his dress shirt, marvelling in his body as his fingers sought to make quirk work of the buttons. Elena's fingers hooked around the buttons and pulled, sending them scattering across the bed and the floor. Elijah chuckled at her impatience, and she relished at the sight of him so undone.

She could see his defined abdomen peeking out from beneath the torn halves of the shirt, and her fingers reached for his chest, greedy in her touch. Elijah's hands gently enclosed around her wrists, kissing her once more softly.

"I want to taste you first, Elena. I want you on my tongue."

Elena nodded, remnants of her gloss smudged on her lips, breathless. "Yes."

Elijah's fingers dug into her skin in a gratifying way as he collected her into his arms, sliding off the bed, then placed her onto her feet with her back pressed into one of the bedposts. Elena's eyes met his hungry ones as he slowly lowered himself, pressing kisses to her chest, stomach, and hipbones. She shut her eyes as Elijah pressed two more gentle kisses on the inside of either of her thighs, her brow furrowing as she silently prayed that he would not tease her too much. His finger hooked the edge of her thong that sat against her hip, and he pulled it down slowly until it fell around her ankles.

Elena's breathing hitched at the feeling of his tongue against her, wet and warm as it pressed against her folds, until the very tip of his tongue met with her clit.

Elena shuddered. He gently rolled his tongue against her clit over and over again, and she had to reach behind her and grip the bedpost to keep still on unsteady heels. Elijah's hands held her thighs in place, his tongue insistent against her, and she felt her body shake at the pleasure.

"Elijah," She moaned, her hips rolling towards his mouth greedily. He smiled, purposefully increasing the speed of his tongue flicking against her until her frame threatened to double over. His fingers dug into the skin of her thighs, and she revelled in knowing he desired her as much as she desired him.

"God, Elijah, please... Please."

Elijah's fingers pressed into her folds as his lips sucked around her clit, collecting her wetness until the first digit slowly slid inside. Elena moaned loudly at the feeling of his finger inside of her, louder still when the second one slipped in. His fingers pumped in and out of her quickly while he sucked against her clit incessantly, and Elena's hands left the bed to gently grip Elijah's hair.

Pleasure roiled through her, the waves now threatening to topple her over as the combined sensation of his fingers and lips against her pussy became too much to handle. Elena hissed through her teeth as she felt his fingers graze against that particularly sensitive spot inside of her, and felt herself clench around his hand in response.

Her back dug into the post of the bed, her thighs beginning to shake from holding herself up. Elijah's tight grip not only ensured she couldn't escape his pleasurable onslaught, but also that she wouldn't collapse into a heap onto the floor.

She could hear how wet she was with the way his fingers moved inside of her, his mouth licking and sucking in tandem, and as her head lolled forward, the sight of Elijah on his knees in front of her was enough to put her over the edge. That, and one last roll of his tongue in that way against her clit. Elena shivered, crying out at the feeling of her orgasm crashing upon her body. Every muscle convulsed, and she saw white behind her eyes as she wrenched them shut, her face contorted in pleasure.

At first, Elijah was merciful. His fingers pumped inside of her a few more times, his mouth pausing its assault on her clit as he watched her come undone above him, writhing in carnal pleasure. Then, with a dark gaze, he leaned forward and slowly licked her clit once more.

Panting, a light sheen of sweat on her body, Elena whined at the feeling.

"My wicked angel." He murmured, punctuating his sentence with one more lick. Elena gasped. "As beautiful as you are enticing. As innocent as you are corrupting."

"How do I taste?" Elena whispered, her voice shaking slightly as her body rode out the last ripples of her orgasm.

Elijah slowly pulled his fingers from her pussy, and stood to his full, towering frame to face her. Elena already felt spent, her hair sticking to her forehead and neck, eye makeup smudged around her eyes. Her orgasm had hit her like a wave indeed, but the sight of Elijah's darkened eyes staring at hers, and how that same sinful tongue that was buried inside of her now licked the length of his index finger - it was enough to alight her desire anew.

"Like an epiphany."

"And what will I find you taste like?"

Elena's breath returned to her as she reached up and kissed him, tasting the remnants of herself on his lips. She stepped out of her thong that lingered against her ankles, and turned him around so that his back was pressed against the bedpost.

She took a moment to enjoy the sight of him like this. Shirt torn, tie gone, left only in his black trousers. Her eyes flickered down to the evidence of his desire, and she boldly traced her finger along the outline of the bulge, earning her another deep groan from Elijah's chest. A muscle worked in his jaw.

Her fingers made quick work of his belt, clinking quietly as it was quickly dismantled. She undid the button and the zipper just as quickly, sensing the urgency between them. As the layers fell away, Elena witnessed the evidence of his desire for her. His cock stood proudly erect, long and hard, and Elena's hand tentatively reached for it, feeling its smoothness and hardness at the same time.

"Elena," He ground out, one of his hands coming around her arm. "Now is not the time to tease me."

"I disagree. It's the perfect time. When will I again have such power?" She murmured, rolling the pad of her thumb against the tip of it, collecting the wetness on its head. He hissed.

"Then you'll pay for it." He vowed, and she felt herself shiver at his promise. She had a vampire's release in her hands, an Original at that. She would enjoy this moment as long as she could, and reap the consequences gladly afterwards.

"Oh? Do I have your word?" She asked, a small smirk turning the corner of her mouth.

Elijah's eyes narrowed, a knowing smile appearing on his lips. She was already teasing him. "You have it."

Elena fell to her knees and slowly licked a long swipe along the length of him. She made sure to peer up at him, enjoying the way the same muscle continued to reflex in his jaw. His eyes threatened to close but he kept his gaze intent on hers, and she felt the sting of her desire renew between her thighs.

She licked the tip of it slowly, tasting the pre cum that had beaded there. Elijah released a soft moan at the feeling and at the sight of Elena licking her lips before parting them, and slowly taking him between parted pink lips.

He hissed at the feeling of his cock bumping against her folded tongue in the back of her throat, and Elena began slowly bobbing up and down his hard length, placing her hands on either of his thighs for stability.

One of his hands dropped to collect her hair from around her face, and gripped it loosely in a messy bun at the back of her head. She could feel him resisting the urge to thrust into her mouth, even as she quickened her pace, pausing only to swirl her tongue around his tip once more.

"Fuck, Elena." He growled. "Keep going."

Elena obliged, switching up her technique so that the tip of his cock gently rolled along the soft part of her palette, at the back of her mouth before slipping deeper into her mouth and down her throat. She pushed herself particularly close to taking all of his length as she gagged slightly, tears beginning to glint at the corners of her eyes.

"I love seeing you like this," He murmured, repositioning his fingers around her hair to grip it tighter, fingernails scratching along her scalp. Another groan rumbled in his chest. "Will you let me take control, Elena?"

Elena slowly pulled her mouth back, her tongue darting out to lick the saliva dripping from her bottom lip. In an instant, Elijah had her beside the wall, still on her knees, but with her wrists hoisted up in the air, locked in the grip of one of his hands. His other hand gently guided her head back towards her cock, and she parted her lips, eager to oblige. He noticed; his gaze was dark and sinful as he watched his cock disappear between her lips.

With her hands trapped in one of his, she could only match his pace as he began to slowly thrust in and out of her mouth, taking him deeper with each one. She raised her head upwards, drinking in the sight of him above her, his handsome features contorted in pleasure, and his darkened eyes watching her take him with sinful appreciation.

"That's it," He murmured, releasing another groan. "Such a good girl for me, Elena. You take me so well."

He allowed himself to gently thrust once, twice more, before he pulled out of her mouth and crouched down to kiss her, pressing the back of her head against the wall with his desperation. Elena matched his desperation, finally pulling the torn shirt from his shoulders as her hands devoured every inch of his skin, along his chest, up his shoulders, and the nape of his neck.

"How do I taste?" Elijah hummed, pressing another kiss to her lips before she could answer.

"Like eternity," She murmured in response, her large brown eyes staring up at his.

Elijah's arms slipped around her waist, then spun her around until her cheek and chest were pressed against the wall, with Elijah's body pressed firmly against the back of her. Elena groaned at the feeling, pushing her hips back to try and create some much-needed friction. He seemed to noticed, placing his hands firmly against her hipbones to still them.

His mouth found her ear, and suddenly she was surrounded by Elijah, enveloped in his very being as his warm breath fanned against her cheek and his deep voice reverberated in her chest. She could feel him pressing his erection against her, just as desperate for the feeling of her skin against his.

"Elena," He whispered, one of his hands leaving her hip to slip up her back to the column of her neck. His hand slowly encircled her throat and simultaneously tilted her head to the right, exposing the soft skin to him. He pressed a kiss against her jugular, and instantly, she envisioned his white canines sinking into her neck, crimson blood beading and trailing down along her chest.

She shuddered at the image in her head, and Elijah chuckled behind her.

"Is that what you want, Elena?"

It was only then that she'd realized he'd shown her the vision in her mind, a wordless question answered by her body's vivid reaction.

She couldn't even believe her answer.

"Y-yes. Yes, Elijah."

"Open your legs for me."

Elijah's face disappeared from beside her, and she felt his other hand drop from her hipbones to slip between her thighs. His fingers slowly rubbed against her pussy, collecting the wetness that dripped from her. She almost felt embarrassed at the effect he'd had on her, but the way he'd used his tongue on her, and the sordid image of him towering above her as his hips moved against her mouth... One of his fingers rolled over her sensitive clit experimentally, earning a whine from Elena. Satisfied, he pressed a kiss between her shoulder blades as he slowly guided himself inside of her.

Elena gasped at the feeling of being immediate full, her hands seeking purchase against the wall as he rolled his hips against hers until he was fully seated to the hilt. She pushed her hips back against his instinctively, desperate to feel every inch of him.

"Just like that," He groaned. "Good girl, take all of me."

Elena felt herself clench around him at his words. Elijah rolled his hips against hers once more before setting his steady rhythm. Instant waves of pleasure soared through her body, and her lips parted as her breathing turned to panting. She pushed her hips back again, matching each thrust with his perfectly. His hands dug into the skin of her waist, and one of Elena's hands fell from the wall to grip his, fingers pressing against fingers as his pace quickened.

"Fuck, fuck." She hissed as his cock hit against the bundle of nerves inside of her, her knees nearly giving out from against the wall.

Elijah instantly returned them to the bed, pressing her back down against the silky sheets once more. He lifted her legs over her shoulders and slowly guided himself back inside of her - Elena's eyes widened at the feeling of him slipping in deeper than ever, hitting the bundle of nerves more precisely than before. The moment she was full of him once more, she moaned loudly, fingers bending to scratch into the expanse of his back, heels clicking together behind his head.

Elijah dipped his head to capture her lips in a kiss and she hissed at the angle, her head falling back into the pillow desperately.

"Elijah, please... I'm gonna cum." She whined.

"Not yet." Came his low warning.

He gently removed her legs from his shoulders and slid his hands underneath her back to sit her up until the their two torsos met with Elena's legs wrapping around his waist. Their two bodies slowly still pulsed against each other, writhing gently with pleasure despite the significantly slowed pace, much to Elena's frustration. She clung to his body as he gently brushed her hair away from her throat again, then placed his fingers along her jawline to tilt her head. Both of them panted, their soft breaths colliding as a sheen of sweat covered their skin.

Elena suddenly heard his voice in the back of her mind, from what felt like an eternity ago.

I hope you find what it is you want, Elena.

Elena swallowed, her eyes meeting his in the darkness. His gaze searched hers, curiosity, desire, and a challenge all rolled into one. Elena nodded her consent to the vision he'd shown her.

"I want it, Elijah. I want you."

Elijah's face transformed instantly before her. Red and purple veins sprouted from beneath his eyes, colouring the whites of them crimson red in the process. His canines elongated, a pair of perfectly white fangs that glinted in the night. She touched his face gently, in awe of his terrible beauty.

His fangs sank into the soft flesh of her neck, deep red beads of blood immediately pooling from the wound. Elena gasped at the feeling, brow furrowing at the sharpness of the pain. But as Elijah drank from her, it lessened slowly to a dull ache, until it felt... incredible.

Elena released a soft moan as her hips instinctively moved against Elijah's, feeling him still hard inside of her. Elijah hummed into her neck in response, his fangs still seated deeply within her throat as he pulled the blood from her body with every swallow. Slowly, his hips began to move against hers, and the friction reignited. Elena cried out at the combination of him thrusting inside of her and the high of him drinking from her, feeling her orgasm beginning to arrive in earnest.

Elijah pulled away from her throat, licking the two perfectly sized holes lasciviously with his tongue. His teeth and mouth were coated in her blood, and his tongue darted out to collect it from his lips. The blood began to run down her collarbone and along the swell of her breast, but Elena hardly noticed, desperation and shamelessness taking over.

Elijah bit into his wrist, scoring the soft skin until it also ran red with blood. Elena pressed her lips to the wound, drinking the few drops as they dripped between her lips.

"Please, Elijah, fuck me." Elena panted.

Elijah didn't need to be told twice.

He flipped Elena around so that she leaning against one of the bedposts, her knees still sinking into the mattress. Her hands gripped it tightly as he came up behind her, sliding himself back inside of her once more. He gripped her hips tightly as he set a ruthless pace against her, his cock sliding in and out of her wetness with ease.

Elena's fingers dug into the wooden bedpost, her moans getting more and more unabashed.

"Elijah!"

He quickly pressed the pad of his thumb against his lips, his tongue darting out to wet the digit., then reached around her body. As his thumb rolled over her sensitive clit expertly once more, Elena nearly saw stars.

The feeling of being so full of him, of him teasing her just like that - her whine increased in pitch as her orgasm built deep inside of her. "Please, please, Elijah." She begged, eyes shut tightly as it threatened to finally overtake her.

"I gave you my word, didn't I?" He smirked behind her, mercilessly flicking against her clit as he continued pumping in and out of her. Elena nearly screamed.

"Yes, yes, please - I can't anymore-"

Elijah's laugh was almost enough to throw her over the edge, but then she heard the magic words. "Cum for me, darling."

Elena writhed in pleasure as her orgasm spilled, sending shockwaves of electricity to every nerve in her body. Her fingernails dug into the bedpost until she was sure it would shatter beneath her touch, then she fell back against his chest, her moans dying in her throat as the last of her strength left her.

Elijah's orgasm followed suit as he thrusted a handful more times, spilling his cum inside of her as his face contorted in pleasure, her name a prayer on his lips.

Elena's heart rammed against her chest as he slowly pulled out of her, then allowed him to wrap his arms around her body and gently lay her back down onto the bed. She felt instantly spent; every nerve felt like a firework that had exploded and sizzled out.

His body collapsed onto the bed beside hers, and for a moment, no one spoke. They stared up at the ceiling, chests rising and falling in tandem, enjoying the heaviness of their limbs and the lightness of their minds.

In the distance, laughter erupted from somewhere at the party.

"You're missing your party." Elijah murmured, lifting a finger to trace along the line of her body. Elena smiled, adjusting her head to lie on his chest. The blood was had mostly dried on her neck and chest from where it had dripped down, though some had smeared over her body in the process. She couldn't bring herself to care.

"It's alright. I got what I came to the party for. Do you think anybody heard us?"

"If we're lucky."

Elena smirked up at him, but soon afterwards, her smile fell slightly. Tracing her fingers along the smooth muscles of his chest, she looked up at Elijah, and he tilted his head downwards to meet her gaze.

"I wanted it to be you the whole time."

"As did I."

Elena sat up in the bed slightly, leaning against her elbow to regard him more clearly, remembering Noah's mask on his face.

"What happened, Elijah?"

He did her the credit of not pretending he didn't know what she meant.

"Caroline let it slip that you had a date tonight. Once I heard his name, I suspected it. Once I met him, I knew."

"You met him?" Elena asked, shaking her head in confusion. She pulled up the sheet to cover her body slightly. Elijah seemed unperturbed by her reaction. "Knew what?"

"That he was in Klaus' employ. The witches gave me the names of those suspected to be some Klaus's right-hand men, werewolves that seek his favour to become part of his hybrid army once he has broken the curse. No doubt he was prepared to reveal the location of the doppelgänger, among other things. Noah and a man named Julian were listed, his alleged roommate. I've dispatched a few of my men to deal with Julian, and with both dead, we hope their lead is dead along with them."

"What? I had no idea, Elijah, I swear. Caroline too-"

"I know, Elena. The fault is not yours or Caroline's or Bonnie's. It is sooner mine. I should have kept you more informed."

Elijah slowly sat up in the bed, his gaze flickering down to her neck where the remnants of the blood still stained her skin. The holes were long gone down, healed from the vampire blood in her system.

"You're just protecting me." Elena assured him quietly.

"Perhaps, but I have been underestimating you, Elena, and for that, I apologize."

Elijah raised his hand to gently tuck a loose strand behind her ear. He hooked one of his fingers under Elena's chin to gently tilt her head up, his gaze intently meeting hers. She felt the remnants of her desire stir in her stomach at the very sight of his eyes.

"Did you kill him?" She knew the answer perfectly well, and wasn't surprised at the honesty of his answer.

"Yes. I would say for that reason only, but it would be a lie."

She couldn't help but smile softly at his jealous confession, her conscience mitigated by the fact that Noah could've been a dangerous risk. There was a quiet pause, then he spoke again.

"If I kill Klaus, Elena..." Both of their heads turned to face each other, and Elena felt the gravity of his words begin to settle over her. She watched his face, trying to gauge his words. "I lose my family."

Elena nodded. "I know, Elijah."

"And I gave you my word that this war would not end in me handing you over to Klaus... So, I suppose that means I must ensure there is a way for me to find my family, even if he is dead."

"Elijah?" She asked, uncertain of his words.

"I'm going to kill him, Elena. We will."

Elena swallowed, her brow furrowing in concern. She reached for his hand, and he allowed her to take it, squeezing her fingers slightly. "Is that what you want, Elijah?" In the face of losing his family, she needed to be sure he meant it.

"Klaus is currently standing in the way of everything I want, Elena, but him living ensures I get the thing I want most."

"What is that?"

"Stay."

Elena's lips parted in surprise. A small word, yet the weight of it enveloped her heart. Her other hand reached up to touch his face gently, and she saw him lean into her warmth ever so slightly.

"Will you stay, Elena? Even if?"

Echoes of his words and Caroline's whispered through her mind. It's a waiting game... Maybe he doesn't want you to leave, Elena...

All of them were silenced as she leaned up to Elijah and pressed another kiss against his lips.

"I'll stay."

Elijah's hand reached out to touch Elena's face, his thumb tracing along the height of her cheekbone. She smiled at his touch. A low chuckle escaped from Elijah's lips as he spoke.

"Do I have your word?"

Elena couldn't contain her smile as she responded. "You have my word."

Elijah turned over, placing his elbows on either side of her head as he pressed another, deeper kiss to her lips. She sighed at the feeling of being surrounded by him, their legs tangling together as he hovered over her. His mouth fell to her ear, his breath warm and his voice low, and she heard it again, whispered into her ear, just the way she liked it.

"Elena."

・❥・

"Sir?"

The wolf hesitantly approached the man, head bowed slightly in respect.

"What is it, Jackson?"

"Noah's dead. So is Julian." He reported quickly.

"What of it?" Came the man's sharp reply. The wolf cleared his throat, his voice shaking slightly.

"Well, we have reason to believe their deaths are connected, sir. To her. Julian told me where Noah was going right before he left. Said he was meeting up with someone, a girl, in Virginia. It took some digging, but I found her." He quickly pulled his phone from his pocket, pulling up the photo he'd found. He spun it around for the man to see. "Elena Gilbert."

"Ah... Elena." Klaus smiled slowly at the sight of the familiar face. Just like no time had passed at all. "My doppelgänger."

#elejah #elijah mikaelson #elena gilbert #tvd #tvd fic #tvd smut #elejah smut #tvd au #tvd au fic

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enihk-writes · 1 year ago

Text

[sincerely]

anon asked: Literally anything lee songbaek x mount hua reader pls I'm desperate it's so empty out there :,))))

pairing: lee songbaek x gn!they/them!reader

summary: he somehow found himself becoming pen-pals with a certain medic of a certain rival sect. not really friends, not really lovers, but this feeling he has in his heart is indeed genuine.

word count: 4.49k

author's note: gender wasn't really specified so im going to make the reader gender neutral,,,, (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

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the first time the two met it was during the annual huazhong competition. zhongnan arrived at the gates of mount hua not really expecting much from the disciples there — all of whom were leagues beneath their skill level, of whom still needed the financial aid of zhongnan to even hold this silly competition in the mount hua sect grounds in the first place.

it was his first time going to this competition. up till then, he'd only ever heard about it from his senior brothers, they were always saying how laughable it was to see them struggle against them so pitifully.

deep down he's never really liked the way they mocked the weak. it felt so... petty and it certainly wasn't an attitude becoming of a martial artist in a taoist sect.

to him, at least.

the one time he had voiced his thoughts in the middle of these re-tellings, he'd gotten a dirty look from his peers and older sect brothers. it was gone within a split second though, with the boys laughing in amusement at how naive and innocent his thinking was.

it's been a few years since that time.

as he steps into the derelict sect falling apart at its seams, he passes by the other third-grade disciples of mount hua all of whom were in the middle of training. he spots a familiar face looking on at them coldly, wasn't he jin geumryong sa-hyung's younger brother? the one that ran away from home a few years ago?

baek cheon-ah, come here.

so he goes by baek cheon. lee songbaek's eyes glance over to the person who had called out to the boy. all he saw was the back of their black uniform. they stood with their back straight and shoulders squared — the stereotypical picture of a proud disciple of their sect. even more so with the younger surrounding them with a quiet look of esteem shining in their eyes.

he keeps looking at their back, hoping that maybe they might turn around to look over in his direction. he could hear snickers from his sect brothers nudging at his shin, their voices pitched higher to tease him about somebody catching their uptight junior's eye.

rather than them catching his eye, he likes to think that it was he who caught their attention. their gazes meeting each other despite the crowd — irises coloured in the deep blue of a night sky levelling with the clearness of a spring's day. two kids who by all accounts, follow the same teaching path... when stripped to its bare bones. yet here they were, standing on each end of the competitors' court as representatives of their sects' bitter rivalry.

these two couldn't have been any more different.

their gazes on each other didn't break for a long time even as he had already passed by them, and even as he made his way up the steep steps to the guest houses. lee songbaek found himself unable to pull away from the trance that person had put him in.

senior...?

baek sang called out to them curiously.

hm. looks like zhongnan's brought in new faces to the competition.

═══════════════

the next morning came rather quickly.

the competitions started quickly without much delay or fanfare. zhongnan breezed through each of their rounds, every match-up lasting for less than a minute. some were only at a few seconds. the longest was the match between jin geumryong sa-hyung and his younger brother. but even that one lasted for one and a half minutes. and the other was not even using his full strength, instead opting to toy with his younger brother's psyche, yet baek cheon couldn't keep up with that?

lee songbaek had to say that he was sorely disappointed with the state of mount hua's martial arts. he could understand now why his senior brothers would mock the disciples here.

so then why would the sects bother to organise this event every year? why would mount hua willingly put themselves through this humiliation each year with their repeated failures? was this their way of learning and growing? it was all so strange to him.

his brows furrow and his eyes, once again, meet the same spring-like ones he saw from yesterday. there they stood on the other side of the stage, arms folded and leaning against the wall — alone. they weren't standing huddled together with the rest of their juniors. he presumed it might be from the air of iciness that perpetually surrounded them.

and that same coldness was now directed straight at him.

hey, who's that asshole looking at you like that?

shouldn't we teach them a lesson?

tch. some arrogance from a no-name sect.

his sect brothers talked amongst themselves, clearly noticing the hostility directed at their own. talking about how they weren't going to let this disrespect slide, though in reality? his sect brothers just wanted an excuse to beat up more mount hua disciples, under the guise of a competition. probably because that's the only time they are stronger than their opponents. lee songbaek thinks to himself.

he laughed it off, not wanting to cause any trouble. he tells the boys that he didn't want to fight anyone for no good reason. he wasn't a hooligan, he was a martial artist. and he would like to live by that proper etiquette.

besides, they don't look like the fighting type.

he says, trying to convince them to drop this matter.

it works, and the boys draw their attention to the ongoing match, which ended as quickly and as predictably as all the other ones. he tried to ignore the grumbles under their breaths.

tch. who does this guy think he is — acting all upright and moral.

don't pay attention to guys like him.

yeah, he's always been a little weird.

lee songbaek glances over at the other side of the stage again. this time their gaze was a twinge softer. still cold, but not as harsh.

the competition was over by midday. and as everyone gathered to leave, he almost bumps into them. hands full with the stack of stools they were to bring back to the dining hall.

i'll help you with that.

he says as his fingers barely brushed past theirs to take ahold of half their load. they pause, deliberating on what to say next, mind forming a biting remark to rebute his help. yet the presence of the other zhongnan disciples around them made them hold back their sharp tongue.

follow me.

they croak out, stepping skillfully between the gaps as they make their way towards the dining hall. lee songbaek hurriedly follows behind as closely as he could, his face and the back of his neck burning up as his sect brothers hoot, holler and whistle after him.

away from the crowd, he finds himself alone with them in the dining hall's small storage closet. his heart skips a beat, his senses all too aware of the person right next to him.

do you like me?

lee songbaek feels his breath hitch.

i asked if you liked me.

they look over at him, arms folded across their chest, an impassive expression sitting on their face. and in his eyes, not looking stoked at the possibility that a rival sect's disciple might have caught feelings for them in less then a day.

i... i'm not too sure myself.

he replied quietly.

they stayed silent. choosing to look ahead through the open doorway at the line of zhongnan sect members leaving through mount hua's red gates. he followed their line of sight, wondering if he should leave as well, go back and pretend that nothing happened here.

an idea hits him right then, having him scramble through his bag for a good minute before he finally fished out a thin blue rope — the same as the one he used to tie over his bracer to keep it in place.

he holds out his hand, hoping that they would catch on and place their hand in his. they do so, albeit hesitantly, fortunately for him. his fingers thick as they may be with callouses from practising his swordsmanship were still long and slender. they watch as those slender fingers of his circle their wrist, thumb in their palm, holding their hand open for him to cover it with his own. passing on his little gift to them in the process.

there was so much more he wanted to say to them. if he sent them letters would they oppose to it? he thinks about the mere notion of a zhongnan disciple corresponding with a mount hua disciple, and he thinks about the reactions of the people around either of them. no doubt it won't be a sunshine and rainbows affair.

may i... send you letters?

he wasn't sure if this was the right way to court someone.

do whatever you want.

they mumble, turning to hide their embarrassed face from his astute stares. they weren't good at hiding it seems, he didn't miss out on the way the corner of their lip twitched upwards ever so slightly.

lee songbaek feels his heart stir a little more.

═══════════════

a month or two passed with no word from him. they felt a little foolish to still harbour onto the hope that he'd remember them, even if for a brief moment.

senior, there's mail addressed to you.

their eyes widen as a junior sister trots up to them with a package — whatever was meant for them hidden under the layer of white linen cloth wrapped and tied securely with a brown rope. they wonder if they had failed to conceal their excitement, with how said junior sister giggled at the bursting sparkle in their eyes.

thanking the girl quickly, they grabbed the package and headed straight to the privacy of their work desk in the medical hall. nobody really came around here at this time of the day, and besides, their room wasn't safe from everyone's nosiness.

i hope you haven't forgotten about me.

holding the parchment in their shaky hands, they read the greetings written out in neat lines.

i feel embarrassed that i didn't write to you as soon as i said i would. could you find it in your heart to forgive me? perhaps the gifts i've sent along with the letter could sweeten the apology?

they look down, splayed across the white package cloth were small pouches, all filled with various trinkets. some were tea leaves, one contained dried herbs and they even found a bell while the remaining two pouches were filled with various sweets.

i hope the gifts are to your liking. hopefully i haven't stepped out of line with any of them, i wasn't too sure on what you would have liked considering we don't really know each other. if you are willing, may i learn more about you in your reply?

it even harder to ignore this growing need to want him to notice them even more. think about them more. they wanted to pick up their brush and tell him all about themselves, every little flaw and perk about them. they wanted to know if his little interest would die out or grow stronger from it. what about him? what did he like, what was he like? last time he was here, there was a faded scent of pine lingering on him.

he's back at zhongnan now, so maybe that scent of pine would be stronger. if they asked, would he...

they shake their head to rid themselves of their thoughts.

for now, they'll send him a simple reply. there's no need to rush. the both of them still had plenty of time.'

═══════════════

lee songbaek stares at the letter dropped onto his lap. the instructor had handed it over to him after that morning's training without much explanation other than a simple before i forget.

oh... open it!

read it aloud for the rest of us!

the other disciples clamour around him, curious about the mail their somewhat eccentric sect brother had received. he laughed nervously, really not wanting them to poke their noses into his business where they didn't belong. but he obliged reluctantly, nonetheless.

first, i'd like to thank you for your letter. here i was thinking you'd forgotten all about me. i'm glad to see that you hadn't.

even though the greeting was prim, proper and polite — that messiness of the cursive calligraphy did little to hide their writer's true heart. a person who had been waiting eagerly for him.

lee songbaek clutches the letter close to his chest. his sect brothers need not see the rest of the contents of the letter addressed to him.

he gets up to run to a more secluded location, amongst the other's boos and insults, away from all of them just so that he could read the words that person wrote to him so earnestly.

they wrote to him. they wanted him to read their words, so what right did his sect brothers think they had to ask him to read them what they had sent for his eyes only. he didn't want to betray their trust behind their back like this.

i don't have anything to give you right now, but i'll prepare well so that when you send another letter to me, i have something for you too. so just like you want to know more about me, could you let me know a little more about you as well?

he slumps down the walls of the back gates. he likes to think they might have been frazzled while writing their reply, hence the messy handwriting. his thumb traces across the lines on the parchment, eyes darting across their next lines.

i don't hold any grudge for your late letter, it's not like i was waiting or hoping that you'd remember.

liar.

i haven't had time to try the things you've sent me, so i can't tell you if i like them or not. you need not fret, none of your gifts were out of line. if anything, i work in the medical hall. so your tea, herbs and flowers are of use to me in some way.

so that explains why they smell of smokey ginseng at that time.

the medical hall huh. he ponders, wondering if he should see what ingredients his sect's own medical hall uses. he wanted to be of use to them again, just like the first time.

no... he didn't want the people around him to get too curious and find out he was talking to someone from mount hua. the disciples here weren't above accusing him of being a traitor to their sect even without the proof nor evidence.

before i sign off, i want to know if you like sweets, by any chance? if you do, then i think i might have something for you, if you don't that's alright. i can always think of something else.

he folds the letter back into it's original shape. he was itching to return to his room and write out his reply, but that would have to wait for when night falls after the day's training was over.

tomorrow morning, he'll use the excuse of going on an errand to see the folk doctor in the village over. maybe he could learn a thing or two from that old man. if he's lucky, he might even get some seeds that he could send to them.

═══════════════

this back-and-forth lasted longer than either of them thought it would. he's gotten tea and honey they procured themselves, and they've gotten countless herb pouches and seeds from him. there was once when they wrote to him, saying that they'd have to stop writing to him since their ink was running out, and in his next letter he sent them a set of inkstones in an embellished box. they had to rub their eyes to see that they hadn't been dreaming. just how much money did that man have?

they felt bad, maybe a little sheepish for receiving something that expensive from him. they even said so in their reply. and all lee songbaek had to say to that was,

write to me more often.

they read those lines over and over again, laughing at the absurdity of it all. was this all that he wanted from them? was it really that simple? they still couldn't believe it.

they weren't so dense that they didn't know he was trying to pursue them. it's just...

most men would have expected their love interests to repay their expensive gifts with something they deemed worthwhile. something for all that trouble these men had to go through for their so-called beloveds. a soddy excuse to have the other warm their beds.

so for a man like him to expect nothing other than their continued correspondence in return — this was all too good to be true.

but then again, all of his letters to them had always shown genuine interest in their likes, dislikes, hobbies and their petty worries. he's always read through their words, responding to each sentence they've written with the same sincerity each time. even the things they don't remember writing about.

did they deserve that sort of admiration from a guy like that?

═══════════════

if anyone ever asked lee songbaek about the medic from mount hua, he'd talk about them with stars in his eyes. he hasn't seen them for a few years at this point, mainly out of his own violation with how he wasn't fond of the huazhong contest, but they've been writing to each other despite all of that.

he could recite all the medicinal properties of wild plants growing on mountains, and he could tell anyone on and on for hours about all that person's writing quirks — the way their handwriting gets messier when they feel strongly about something, the little dots they'd draw at the edges of the paper as decoration, the fact that they weren't that great at spacing out their lines to the point that words get crammed at the end...

yet there was still so much he didn't know about them. how did they look like now? has he grown even taller than they did? what do they like to eat now? their voice, face, eyes all of the things he can't see beyond that one memory... how does it look like now? if they met face-to-face then, how would they react to each other? would their conversations be as animated as they were on paper?

perhaps he should join this year's contest. but to come along after not wanting to for so long, won't the others find it strange?

maybe he was a little lucky that that opportunity presented itself not that long after, though it was in a rather painful way.

═══════════════

the next time he would find himself at the familiar red gates for that year's huazhong contest, he was there for two reasons. one was to see them, the other was to have a chance to spar with the third-grade disciple chung myung one more time. he mentioned this in passing when he sent a letter after the incident. they... weren't frugal with their scathing remarks.

honestly, you deserved it.

ouch.

why are you, the grown adult in this case mind you, picking fights with a teenager anyways? what happened to being a respectable martial artist or whatever that phrase you like to say huh? where'd that go? shameless bastard, even if the two of us are friendly with each other, i'm not going to feel sorry that happened to you.

he scoffs, smiling fondly at the letter in his hands. they're right, he did deserve the consequences from that day — even if they hadn't said so in their letter. he glances over at his belongings scattered on his bed. this was the morning he and other disciples were setting off to mount hua together with one of their sect elders. he's heard through the grapevine about this being the last competition they'd hold.

lee songbaek had a feeling it actually won't work out the way the elders had intended.

whatever. he'd be lying if he said he wasn't looking forward to seeing them again. he wonders if anything about them has changed. would the two of them talk as comfortably as they do in writing? he hoped he could surprise them a little when he showed his face again.

═══════════════

zhongnan arrived at mount hua without much fanfare other than the narrowly avoided incident with the infamous chung myung. the zongnan disciples felt their feathers get ruffled, grumbling all the way up the steps to their guest house about the rude behavior of a child who was barely past fifteen.

that same night, while the guests were enjoying the banquet set out for them and the mount hua disciples were in the regular dining hall having dinner — they were organizing their supplies quietly in the medical hall, skipping their meals to finish up the work needed before tomorrow's competition. their ears perk up at the sound of unfamiliar footsteps coming their way. who in the world would find them this late at night? their hand reached for the hilt of their sword.

compared to the others, they weren't the fighting sort. though that was not an excuse for the devil incarnate that entered the sect recently. training their stamina along with the others every morning, shovelling down breakfast and then swinging their sword a thousand times until late afternoon, lunch and then it was time for another thousand swings for the rest while they went back to the medical hall to study for the physicians' exam held once every four years in the royal palace. it was a gruelling routine. one that they didn't mention in any of their letters, not exactly seeing the point in complaining.

eh?

they stood frozen in their spot, sword halfway drawn out. the perpetrator laughs at the doorway sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. he would be lying if he said that he wasn't a little shocked himself.

i hope you haven't forgotten about me.

lee songbaek asks quietly. facing his side, though he steals a glance at them from the corner of his eye.

they stand frozen in place as he walks over slowly, carefully placing one foot down before the other until he was standing face-to-face with them.

it's you... i thought... you never said that you would...

voice shaky, hands covering their heated face — they were a mess. if lee songbaek had came here with the intent to surprise them, then he has certainly succeeded.

i'm sorry if i startled you. can i look at you... please?

his hands reach up to hold theirs, fingers intertwining with each other's. he thinks they leaned forward, and he does too, closer and closer until his lips brushed on theirs, noses bumping against each other with a little gasp of surprise.

do it properly.

they mutter, hands escaping his hold to wrap their arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ribbon that held his hair together as they pull him down for a proper kiss.

the world was still for the brief moment the two were sharing. he wraps his arms around their waist, hugging them closer towards him. the warmth of their body pressed against his chest, his hair had grown loose around his head — the long strands falling over his face, but he was a little too distracted by the kiss to bother.

they were the first to break off, stepping back to get some air, giggling when he leaned forward instinctively.

what was that about?

lee songbaek asked, breathless and a little dazed.

i wonder...

they reply, mumbling softly.

awkwardly, the two backed off from the other, each taking a shaky step back to let what just happened sink in. they were both lucky it was the middle of the night when no one was around. otherwise, their little unplanned rendezvous would have become the hot scandal of the century, and there were going to be people who would lose their minds over it. a zhongnan and mount hua disciple, a zhongnan and mount hua disciple?

still, they didn't really hate that kiss.

what... does this make us now?

they asked him, deciding to break the silence first. not caring too much about the weight of the question.

they were right. what does this make the two of them? not yet lovers, even if the groundwork for that sort of relationship was there. not exactly friends, they weren't close but yet were familiar enough with each other to be more than mere acquaintances.

it seems, for now, they have to sit back and let time tell.

their hand that tucked his hair behind his ear was gentle, tender, almost. fingertips lingering at the side of his face, just ghosting over his cheek. he closed his eyes as the back of their hand caressed his face, trailing down to his chin and falling back to their side.

you should go to bed.

i will.

i'm not going to wish you good luck for tomorrow since our sects are competing against each other. and i'm quite loyal to mine.

it's okay.

lee songbaek couldn't help the smile growing on his face. right, they were still rivals. rivals that shared a kiss, but that's just how things are sometimes, wasn't it?

he left the medical hall with a slight spring in his step, hair down and the scent of smokey ginseng mixed with fresh plum blossoms still lingering on his clothes — it looked like he might have to stay up and walk around until the smell was gone.

can't have his sect brothers getting too curious now, could he?

═══════════════

the final results of the competition had already been determined the moment chung myung had challenged his senior brothers, still drunk on the highs of past successes, not yet brought down to earth. lee songbaek felt as though he'd been enlightened by this whole experience, the incident at the trading company and right now at the contest. he knew there was something he had to do the moment he got back to his sect.

chung myung had told him how lonely the path he's chosen would be. but that didn't matter to him.

it's not that i want to walk this path. rather, it's because this is the path i must walk.

he says, eyes glancing past chung myung towards the familiar back of that person. his other reason was to become someone they wouldn't be ashamed of.

but nobody else needed to know that.

lee songbaek left mount hua that day, busy with plans for the future, and deep down in his heart, looking forward to the next time he'd get to meet them again.

maybe by that time, they would be able to place a better name to this feeling brewing between them these past few years.

but who knows, really?

#enihkwrites #return of the mount hua sect #return of the blossoming blade #return of mount hua #rotbb #rotmhs #lee songbaek #return of the blossoming blade x reader #return of the mount hua sect x reader #lee songbaek x reader #totally not a distraction from the mistake i made the other day lol what????#hm... there's a lot of things i can do with a mount hua!reader x lee songbaek.... it's like romeo and juilet with less stakes #the stake is probably peepaw chung myung having an aneurysm when he hears the news of yall being buddy-buddy

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