#but fucking a it feels like a dragon is snoring right in front of my face

[savage-rhi]

Magenta kinda?

[fairyhaos]

seventeen and which mythical beings they are

requested by @mesanthropi ^^ physically held myself back from going on rants for shua's and hao's and jeonghan's pls (iykyk)

masterlist

seungcheol

vampire. formidable, mysterious vampire seungcheol from a powerful family name who lives in a huge, ominous castle and somehow manages to make sucking blood look sexy… shakes he's so fine oh my god. honestly vampire!cheol with glowing red eyes and an intimidating presence and the most smug fucking smirk in the world is such a vibe, and he also has the whole “i was born centuries and centuries ago” old hag thing down to an art

jeonghan

siren. specifically a mermaid-type siren that lives in the sea and has a pretty iridescent tail. water-dwelling being jeonghan just makes so much sense to me bc he has their fluidity and their peaceful and their mischief and also??? jeonghan with a shimmery mermaid tail and captivating siren voice???? i'd willingly drown myself for him actually, siren song be damned. he has the silvery voice of a siren and the ethereal looks to be one fr

joshua

wood nymph. bambi-eyed wood nymph joshua who communicates with the birds and tends to his forest and has flowers weaved in his hair and stars embedded around his eyes… the nymph!joshua obsession is Real guys and i am definitely a victim of it. curly haired joshua is just sooo wood nymph coded and i can see him as some soft-spoken, pretty being who lives in a birch tree and guides stray travellers when they get lost in his woods

junhui

witch junhui with his black cat familiar and his dented cauldron and his cottage in the middle of the forest!! witch junhui with his mini apothecary and his goofy-sounding spells and his eyebrow permanently half-singed bc his enchantments keep backfiring!! witch junhui with his soft spoken words and bright laugh and total kindness to everyone who happens upon his home!! witch junhui is so so dear to me and he really is just. a witchy little dude

hoshi

shapeshifter. does this idea feed into his furry agenda a bit too much? yeah, it kinda does, but oh my god just imagine tiger shapeshifter hoshi who's part human but can turn into a large, big-fanged and bold-striped tiger at a moment's notice. he really just genuinely gives shapeshifter vibes, and every year he schedules one week where he'll traipse off into the nearest mountains and blow off some steam in his tiger form for seven days

wonwoo

dragon. okay so this is kinda not a humanoid mythical being, but wonwoo is soooo big friendly dragon coded. i can imagine him as a large, red scaly dragon, snoozing atop his massive hoard of gold in a secluded cave in the forest, little wisps of smoke coming out of his nostrils as he snores contentedly. that doesn't mean he can't be scary if he wants to tho, and can burn down any puny humans who try to steal his hoard in the blink of an eye

woozi

demigod. part-god woozi is just such a vibe okay, and he rlly does give off a hercules-type feel, where he can do inhuman things and seems almost untouchable in his awesomeness, even though he's right there in front of you. and he has a hatred of the gods and a mild tolerance for humans but at the end of the day, he appreciates and loves both for all that they do. (also in a percy jackson demigod sense, he is totally an apollo's kid and no i don't make the rules) 

minghao

fae. y'all know how far my fairy minghao agenda runs by now and like ??? can you blame me ???? the idea of sassy smol hao with fairy wings and a squeaky voice is cute and all, but also i just think he fits the idea of the entire tall, mysterious fae folk really well too. with his pointy fae ears and his shrewd gaze and his ability to say half-truths and riddles and give sage advice about how to live your life all at once, he really is very much a fae-like person. 

mingyu

some sort of demon. he's so loud and bright and kind that, despite his huge presence and glowing eyes and the horns protruding out of his mess of fluffy hair, you don't even register that he's some dangerous, hellish creature before something happens and he just snaps, the air around him visibly darkening as he tears after the thing that caused him to lose control. he's so sweet and kind but so undeniably dangerous all at once. 

dokyeom

elf. i'm thinking lord of the rings elves, except i haven't actually watched lord of the rings but i have this idea of them being tall and rich and elegant beings, and it makes me think of dokyeom. he's just so pretty, and the elves rely on the natural elements to survive, right? dokyeom is just so sunbeams peeking through forest leaves, so little rabbits bounding through the undergrowth, so hand-whittled arrows and folk songs around a campfire and tall, tall, beautiful elves. 

seungkwan

will o’ the wisp or a sprite. he's endearing and mysterious, and once you gain his favour he's staying glued to ur shoulder for the entirety of your dangerous quest through the magical woods. he's very chatty and also very elusive, constantly flitting around in the air and disappearing in a wink of light before appearing on your nose once again. you can't tell if he's a help or a hindrance, but he's cute and bright and makes the journey a lot better

vernon

a smurf. smurfs count as mythical beings okay, and while ive never actually watched any smurf movie thing ever, i think vernon would make an absolutely brilliant smurf. they give off silly goofy weird adorable vibes, and that's basically vernon in a nutshell. also smol vernon with blue skin and lives in a mushroom looking house??? that's kinda cute and actually something that vernon might wanna do irl not gonna lie

chan

nine-tailed fox. he's so mysterious and sexy and kind of dangerous but like. his unbelievable handsomeness kinda outweighs the danger. honestly i don't really have an explanation for this other than that the Vibes r there for some reason and he'd look so cool with those glittery wisps of magic threading through the air around him as his eyes glow a mysterious colour before he launches into a kdrama-esque fight sequence against the latest monster

request guidelines

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[marthawrites]

May I please request smut with Aemond and afabfem reader saying "tie me up and fuck me hard" and OOP Aemond didn't know he'd enjoy this a lot

AND CONGRATS!!! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you so much sweet anon 💖 You absolutely can have that! I hope you see and like this dirty lil story!

Leather and Silver

Aemond Targaryen x wife reader

Word count: 2.3k+

About: There's something about your prince husband's belt that successfully drives you mad with lust.

Includes: Explicit sexual content featuring vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, improper use of a belt, praise kink, spanking, hair pulling, adult language, breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! Why does Aemond's waist look like that? Why! As always, please enjoy! ❤️

-

There were a hundred insignificant things you adored about Aemond Targaryen. From the first day of your arranged courtship, to the day of your wedding, and through the moons that followed, you eagerly, and patiently, peeled back the layers of your dragon prince. Quiet, calculating yet impulsive when struck just right, sharp, dutiful, and fierce. 

Oftentimes, especially in the beginning, you found yourself overwhelmed by the Targaryen’s and their grandeur. It was during those times you learned of Aemond's softness. The realm would likely not believe it. For how could Aemond One-Eye, the cruel prince, be loving when he coldly disregarded anything that didn't make him stronger, more clever, and better than those around him?

Together in the court you two made a handsome pairing. A graze of his hand there, a touch of his fingertips there, and a shared gaze anywhere, had you feeling like you were the only one in the room.

Perhaps more surprising than anything you learned, however, was the discovery of Aemond's eagerness for acceptance. Behind closed doors he only wanted to be good to you, to make you think him the best; to send your pretty eyes rolling closed in bliss before staring up at him in dazed wonder, his name a tremble on your lips. A thing he'd never tire of.

Aemond Targaryen was an exemplary lover.

Before him you never shared your body with anyone. So, it wasn't as if you had past experiences to go by. But, judging from conversations with fellow noblewomen in regard to their marital bed, you made out like a bandit. You were sure to tell your husband, of course, and he wasn't quite convinced until you were putty in his arms and peacefully snoring the night away.

"I swear if I have to talk to one more lady, or bat my eyelashes at one more lord, I will go absolutely insane," you said exasperatedly, running a hand down your face in dramatic exhaustion.

An amused chuff sounded from Aemond, and a little smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. "How many times must I tell you, my darling? You needn't be so busy with everyone during these events." His voice was its normal softness as if wholly unaffected by the day's, and evening's, conversations. "Let me help loosen your hair." 

"One of us has to make an effort in mingling with the fellow Houses," you retorted as you sat in front of your vanity.

"Mm… you are tired," Aemond cooed knowingly, long body easily stepping up behind you so his fingers could begin unlacing the braids and ties of your hair.

Through the mirror you smiled at him apologetically. "I'm sorry," you sighed. You relaxed against the back of your chair, enjoying the delicate tugs and featherlight stokes of his fingertips against your scalp. "Someone has to show interest and express opinions about Casterly Rock and the Lannister's decorati–"

" –it is such a bore," Aemond droned with a most unceremonious roll of his eye.

You giggled, light and happy, at your husband's reaction. Standing, you wrapped your arms over his shoulders and laced your fingers at the back of his neck. "Know what isn't a bore?"

"Hm?"

"You," you proclaimed, kissing him gently. Instantly he melted against you. A sigh escaped your lungs at the feel of his arms around you as his hands slowly trailed, pressed, and held along your body. You broke the kiss to instead look up at him, coy. "Particularly with this belt. Is it a new one?"

He quirked a brow so subtly you almost missed it. "No. 'Tis the same one I always wear."

"Hm… perhaps it's the tunic that brings it out." Indeed, he'd been donning a new black leather tunic with gold embellishments. It suited him very well. "Either way, it's been driving me wild. I think I should take it off before it makes me positively insane." You left him little choice in the matter as you began to take it off. It looped here, and buckled there, and the delicate swishing noise it made while sliding out, somehow, sent a pleasant chill down your spine.

Aemond's silhouette was a thing to behold, truly: his entire body lean and sharp like the swords he wielded, with a trim waist powerful as the rest of him. How he managed to look so effortlessly dangerous and good was beyond you.

Mirroring you, he began to unlace the belt from your waist. "Seems only fair," he said with a grin, leaning down to nip your bottom lip. Without leaving your mouth or neck unattended he began to work open the back of your dress. It pooled around your feet until you were donned in only your smallclothes and stockings. He pressed up your ribs to your bared breasts, reveling in the weight of them in his hands. "These alone make my cock twitch. Can you feel what you do to me?"

"Yes," you answered as you arched into his touch. You sucked in a breath when he pinched each of your pebbled nipples. As eager for more as you were, you were more eager for his clothes to be off. Tunic. Undershirt. Trousers. You opened and pushed everything off until his attire lay scattered across the floor, lips scarcely leaving his in the process.

"I love when you're this eager. My perfect little wife. I bet you're soaked too, aren't you? My needy girl," he growled as he yanked your smallclothes off, not bothering to unlace the ribbons of your stockings. 

You hissed inwardly when the pads of his fingers brushed up through your slippery folds. He grazed your clit skillfully. Patiently. You whimpered into his chest, dragging your teeth and biting any part of his porcelain skin you could. "All for you, husband."

"That's right. All for me."

He meant to only play with you. The night was still young and he had no intentions of wearing you out too early. It had been a long evening, yes, and he was sure you had pent up stress to be released before it boiled into anything ugly. With you, he had learned, a slow release was much more effective than explosive suddenness. He knew how you worked. Despite how absolutely fucking wet you were, he still went slow.

"Aemond…," you breathed, eyes bright with delight and something he wasn't quite sure of. Bashfulness, perhaps? "I…," you started, trying to find your voice amidst the nerves your question brought and the delicate pressure of pleasure. "I want.. would you.. would you tie me up with your belt? And fuck me? Hard…"

That got his attention. He regarded you with curiosity, eye bright with challenge. He gripped onto your hips and turned you around – your back to his front – stepping towards the bed. "You want me to do what, now?" 

This whole time you'd been holding his belt. Now, you dragged it between your hands as a blush bloomed across your face. The underside of his cock nestled against the small of your back, searing, and the space between your thighs throbbed. "Tie me up with it. Please..! Gods, how can a stupid belt look so sinfully good on you? It's just a dumb piece of leather but I find myself staring at it, and you, too often than I care to say!" Words erupted before you could hold them back. You blushed deeper and felt half silly. "I want… I want to feel it tied around my wrists. And.. and you, using it to use me.."

"My darling little wife, this is new," he said by your ear. He took the belt from your hands and slowly pulled it up the front of your abdomen, breast, and shoulder – mindful to let you feel every inch of leather and silver alike. A secret grin dimpled his mouth at your shuddering reaction. "So sensitive. Have you thought about this often?"

"A few times…"

He continued trailing it along your body. He did love that belt. So much so that the wonderfully worn leather felt like butter across your skin. "Put your hands in the small of your back… yeah, there, just like that. My good girl. Listening so well." He muttered soft praises as he wrapped the belt around your wrists, looping and securing, before testing the buckle of the bind. Fully secured. "Mayhap I should buy you leather garb. You look so lovely bound by it," he whispered hotly by your ear as he shoved you forward onto the bed.

You gasped, easily falling onto the mattress. Using your knees for support beneath your body, you were effectively face down and ass up for your dragon prince. The position had your cheek squished against the soft quilts. "Please, husband, I need you," you simpered, quivering, knowing your most private areas were on full display for him; wrists folded and tied together at the small of your back.

He tutted. “And here I thought I would build you up nice and slow tonight after being such a good wife in court. So charming and pretty. Dazzling everyone with your smile…,” he smirked with a tilt of his head, regarding you with adoration and lust alike. “Eat your sweet cunny real nice and slow… only after making you peak on my fingers.” His voice was lower, now, and somehow it seemed all the louder. “But that’s not what you want, is it? You greedy little thing. You only want to be bound and used as a silk whore. Like a cheap thrill.”

From your angle you couldn’t see him. Alertness trickled your skin. You yelped as his palm slapped down against your upturned ass – once on each cheek, and twice on one for good measure. Your spine arched lower; slick glistened on your inner thighs. A fourth made the back of your throat burn with unshed emotion.

“You are sooo wet,” he mocked, tugging on his cock. “All from me and my belt? I wonder what my boots do to you? My gloves?” He lined up with your pink, glistening folds. The swollen head of his cock sunk easily past your drenched opening, your walls clamping on him as if to guide him right where you wanted him to be.

Honestly you’d never given much thought to his boots or gloves, but now your mind was wandering with lewd images of both in increasingly depraved ways. “Yes! More, husband, fuck me hard,” you whined as your toes curled in beautiful anticipation. Your breath trembled in your lungs; you were shuddering beneath him.

The fingers of one hand sunk harshly into the soft meat of your hip while the other gripped your bound wrists as if he were flying. In a single movement he rolled his hips forward and wholly filled you. He was barely nestled in you for the briefest part of a moment before he pulled back, cock almost slipping out, and shoved back into your desperate cunt. Again. And again. Firmly. Harshly. Roughly. Each time his lean pelvis slapped against you his stones grazed your clit and you thought you were going mad from the sensation. If the Gods were indeed real, they were here. Surely this is what their grace felt like. Bliss, pure and simple and breathtaking, glowed within you.

Using the leverage he had over your body he pulled you into each of his thrusts. “My good girl. My cock hungry wife. Taking me so well. Fuck– you’re taking all of me so easy. My very own slut,” he growled through his words, abdomen flexing and tightening with the effort of his movements.

Your wrists swirled in their restraints, fingers flexed into and out of fists, and the back of your thighs burned from being in this position for so long. Your eyes rolled into your head as Aemond fucked you ruthlessly – just what you wanted – using your body for his own pleasure. Your mouth hung agape. Head empty. Only incoherent babbles and pleas came from you amidst the obscene slapping noises of your crashing bodies.

He finally released your hip only to squeeze into your hair. He relished your little whine as he fisted his hand, tension pulling at the roots of your hair. “Gonna plant my seed right here in this pretty little womb. Gonna fill you up with silver haired babes,” he panted, his hot breath almost cool against your skin. He was rutting into you as deep as he could, now, motions sloppy as he chased his high.

“Yes! Please, Aemond. I want all of your babes.. Fuck–!” You squeaked. 

With one final snap he nestled fully into you. A series of twitching throbs echoed throughout his entire manhood and your dragon prince groaned through his orgasm. You were gifted with one at the same time; your moans of release like music to Aemond’s ears, heart, and ego.  Sweat sheened his skin. His hair was skewed and messy.

Slowly, easily, he pulled free from you. “Are you okay?” He asked as he began to unbind your wrists. “You got me carried away there.” You didn’t have to see him to know a blush burned the tips of his ears, a shy grin on his face.

Once unbound, you rolled over to your back and smiled up at him, eyes glazed as you basked in the post-orgasm sensations. “More than okay,” you said with meaning.

He leaned down and kissed you with all the softness he possessed. “Good. I didn’t think I’d enjoy that so much, and I want to make sure I didn’t hurt you.”

You giggled. “I’m sure I will be sore, but it will be a good sore. Thank you for indulging my silly wish.”

“Keep thinking about my boots and gloves, my love, mayhap you can pick a favorite.” He pulled your naked body against his and buried his nose into your neck, content to lay there and pepper you with lovebites until he stirred, ready, for a more gentle second round.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ❤️

Masterlist

To be added or removed from the taglist, please let me know!

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @targaryenbrainrot @ruby-dragon @chompchompluke

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @sahvlren @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @teamaemond @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @okfashionista

[whosjunglejim4322]

SMUT, collegecrush!au, tattooed Johnny agenda, bff Jaehyun! And brief mentions of him being drunk, all the yearning, Johnny is whipped for you but you didn't hear that from me, he's got a big dick, brief dry humping, finger fucking and pussy eating bc....I'm a whore, sensual fucking cause he thinks ur precious teehee ngl I have a crush on this Johnny

A month ago, if someone would have told you that Johnny Seo would be watching The Matrix trilogy with you while sitting on your living room floor under a blanket that he'd brought to the routine occasion - you would have thought them to be crazy. Insane, even.

And not because Johnny is unpleasant to be around, quite the contrary. Despite his popularity he's one of the most levelheaded, endearing frat boys - for lack of better term - you've ever met, and you also happen to think of him as a superhero of sorts, always there the moment you need him.

It had been a party, where the two of you met - sort of. Not shocking, in the least bit, but also not the first place you would have planned to be on a Saturday night. Jaehyun, being the stubborn and puppy dog eyed best friend that he is, insisted that you come along with him - that he'd keep you glued to his side all night long.

Of course, in proper Jaehyun fashion, three tequila shots in and a game of beer pong had him barely cognitive and passed out on some ones bathroom floor within two hours. The house was big, but filled with people and between trying to lift him up while he giggled about your hair smelling so good and sweet - you also feared anyone seeing him like this. Even if it weren't the first time.

His presence spooked you, at first, a light tap on your shoulder from somewhere behind you just as you attempted to lift your aforementioned best friend for what felt like the hundredth time that night. You nearly dropped him back on his head, if it weren't for quick hands and a sturdy grip on the drunk boys slumped shoulders.

He looked like sunshine, honey skin and dyed blonde hair with the dark roots growing out - a soft, comforting smile across the smooth planes of his face. Dark ink peaked out from where the collar of his shirt had drooped, appearing to be spilling from his shoulder. Your arms felt weaker than before, and embarrassment regarding the situation began to make your skin hot.

"I got him, don't worry," he'd assured with a gentle grin, lifting your bestfriend with an ease you almost wanted to scowl at. His height had been startling too, and not just because you were sitting on someone's bathroom floor. "did you guys drive here?"

You shook your head, a sigh of frustration leaving your lips and slumping your posture as you remembered that you both had walked here. Johnny slung Jaehyuns arm over his broad pair of shoulders, and jerked his chin towards the door, which you opened warily.

"I'll drive you home, it's no problem," his voice was soft, reassuring and you were taken aback. He obviously knew Jaehyun, and you'd never met any of his friends that were so...pleasant. "let's get him to my car first."

It wasn't nearly as painful and humiliating to push past crowds of intoxicated people with Johnny leading the way, as it would have been if it were just you. No one even batted an eye at the way he was dragging Jaehyun like a ragdoll, while the boy grumbled under his breath like a child.

People looked at him, of course. Oh, they looked at him. But not because of his human luggage, and it felt odd to see so many eyes on one person, to realize that his presence has the same effect on everyone else as it did you.

He kept looking back, making sure you were still close behind him, and it wasn't until you were outside in the open that you realized he'd been clinging on to the fabric of your jacket, making sure you didn't stray. Your heart felt like it was bursting open. Focus. You'd thought to yourself.

"That's my car over there, can you open the door for me?"

You jogged towards the sleek, onyx colored SUV that looked like a shadow against the dark bushes, and in just a split second Johnny was behind you, maneuvering Jaehyun into the backseat.

"Mmm...leather." Your best friend's giggle made you all the more grateful for the fact that you hadn't had to do this alone, his cheeks bright red and eyes crescent moons from the way he gleefully grinned. Still, you love him nonetheless.

You pulled your jacket off and prepared to drape it over his body before Johnny stopped you with a gentle hand, shaking his head. "I've got two on, let me."

His jacket probably sufficed more anyways, a heavy denim that would actually cover most of Jaehyuns body. You thanked him with a shy smile while he closed the door, and headed towards the passengers seat.

This experience had been the beginning, the car ride home that night being one full of conversations - genuine conversations, and he didn't leave once you both arrived at your apartments. Jaehyun snored in the background while the two of you talked, laughed. It was hard to look him in the eyes, to not make it so obvious - it's hard now, too.

Neo and Trinity kiss on the screen in front of you, and you wonder how Johnny sees you. Sure, he's flirty, overtly sometimes, but there's never been a definitive line to mark where the both of you really are on the friendship spectrum. If you even want to call it that.

Every time he touches your cheek or catches you staring, even when you're walking to your classes and his hand graces the small of your waist just before he waves you goodbye - you have to assume that he knows what he's doing - that the tension hasn't ever just been one sided.

His hair is a light chestnut brown now, longer than usual and flopping into his eyes from the sides. It's unfair, how he doesn't even have to try. The sharp slope of his nose, the bow of his lips, even the elegance of his neck and jaw. That awe from when you first saw him, has never left.

Not to mention that you often times forget he has so many tattoos whenever he decides to wear short sleeves, the art inky and stark against his olive skin - riveting down from his biceps like silk, cascading over his thick forearms and ending at his knuckles.

You turn your attention back to the laptop upon realizing that you've gotten caught up, heart still rattling underneath your ribcage. It makes it worse, the fact that the heat of his body is so close, that you can smell the scent of dryer sheets clinging onto the fabric of his shirt along with the natural allure of his skin.

"Why were you staring at me?" His breath is warm against the shell of your ear and you shudder, surprised by his sudden closeness and the timbre of his voice. You turn to face him with an incredulous expression, feigning innocence - but he makes it damn near impossible with the way he's looking at you - a dark eyebrow raised and a sly smile playing on his heart shaped lips.

"I was looking at your tattoos, cause - uhm, I forget they're underneath your clothes sometimes." You confess, and his knee knocks against yours underneath the blanket.

"Mmhm, so you think about what's under my clothes?" He teases, and takes pride in the way your eyes glower at him, a scoff leaving your mouth. It's hard to be annoyed when he's so vibrant, right here in front of you.

"Just the art, this one's my favorite." Eager to not have the pressure on you anymore, you reach out to grasp his wrist - not realizing how deeply of a need you've had all this time to do so, until you're tracing the flower that's decorating the top of his hand.

In hindsight, it's a bold move - but you can't go back now, not when he's staring down at you so fondly, scooting closer and placing his hand in your lap while you admire his body art.

"Yeah? Why's it your favorite?" He asks, genuinely curious. He nudges your shoulder with his when he sees the shy smile spreading across your lips, your skin hot to the touch. His comfort level has you less nervous than you were before, and the whole thing feels oddly natural, being so close together.

"I don't know, it just suits you. Your hands are so big, and the little vines looping around your knuckles really makes them look...delicate."

You don't dare look up, not when you realize his chest is rising and falling faster than it was before, just like yours is as you spread his fingers out and play with the digits, his face just inches above yours, voice warm in your ear.

"Second favorite." It's not a demand but it's not exactly a request either, and there's a safety in the energy pulsating around you both - mutual, rippling like a current through your bones.

Your eyes deliberately trail up the length of his long arm, scanning, and your fingertips press against the belly of the dragon that wraps around his bicep, sinewy tail tapering off just below his elbow. You've secretly admired this one for a long time, sneaking glances whenever you can. He turns more towards you just the slightest bit, and the closeness begins to make you feel dizzy.

"Your hands are soft."

This time, you can't not look at him, belly filled with a need to see his face, to save the memory of his features so up close in the back of your mind. However, once you do, look up at him - you almost wonder how you'll be able to handle it at all, his amber eyes boring into you as if he's trying to read your thoughts.

"So is your skin." Is what you manage to reply, willing yourself not to look at his soft, inviting mouth - afraid you'll give yourself away. You feel something stroke the side of your cheek and it takes you a second before realizing he's touching you, apparently giving yourself away isn't an issue. You feel like you're being set ablaze.

"Is it really just the tattoos, you think of?" You're not imagining things, he's definitely moving closer - you can smell the starbursts that he ate earlier still sweet on his breath, the wrappers crumpled on the coffee table next to the laptop.

It's all settling in, the realization that this hasn't been just you, fantasizing and daydreaming about someone who hasn't even realized how his natural charm has made you feel.

You're afraid to speak, so you shake your head as a response to his question, the atmosphere thickening impossibly now that he's cupping your chin between his fingers, the tips of your noses almost touching. You've placed your palm against his knee without even realizing it, steadying yourself.

"I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met," he confesses, dark eyebrows furrowed as if he's restraining himself, waiting. "is this...is this okay?" Your lower belly flutters, and you're almost afraid to move, to change anything about this moment and the way it is right now.

"Me too. I've wanted to kiss you, I mean." You breathe out, and now your lips are ghosting against each other, a moment of hesitation that feels both infinitesimal and fleeting. "It's more than okay." A heartbeat passes and he presses his mouth against yours, so pillowy soft that you gasp, surprised.

It's just a second, that he pulls away to look down at you, and your expression is so heavenly - so hazy and delicate. He kisses you again and this time your lips begin to overlap, from top to bottom, suckling and getting used to the feel of each other. He's still holding your face, but with both hands now, thumbs on your cheeks and fingers wrapping around to the nape of your neck.

You cling onto him like you've no other choice, desperate to have him underneath your fingertips, reminding you that this is really happening and that your mind isn't just creating very vivid daydreams. He pulls you closer and you grip onto his broad shoulders.

"Mm, you're so sweet," he lilts between his kisses, tone somewhere between bliss and desire. You're not expecting to be so worked up already. "even better than I imagined." His tongue slips past yours, wet and warm and it's like your body is being put on vibrate.

He senses this too, with the way you're almost in his lap, breath unsteady. His arms are around your waist before you can move any further, pulling you on top of him and locking you to his torso.

"Johnny." You strain, as the feeling within you becomes overwhelming, craving his touch, his mouth. It doesn't help that he's being so vocal, as well - the sounds sweeter, and more desperate than you'd expect from him. It has something feral igniting within you.

What shocks you the most is that he's already hard underneath you, and the thought alone is enough to have you keening further against his chest, tightening your thighs' grip around his trim waist- not to mention you can feel him snug against your ass, material of your shorts so thin it's palpable when he twitches.

So, naturally, your whine is petulant when his mouth departs from yours, his plush lips a deep blush, matching his cheeks in their hue. He's just as worked up as you if his erratic breathing and the way that he grasps onto your sides is anything to go by, and you shouldn't be as surprised as you are about it.

"You...have no idea," he pants, smoothing his thumb over your bottom lip. "how badly I've wanted you. In so many ways."

Your heart feels like it's attempting to burst through your chest in an effort to be closer to him, his sharp eyes lowly lidded but fierce in their honesty. You take this brief moment to touch his face, his soft cheeks and the smooth, taut ridge of his jaw. It all feels too real to be a dream. This must be reality.

"I'm only stopping because, well I like you," it's hard to pinpoint if the trembling of his hands is fueled from his desire or his nerves, but either way he's got your rapt attention. You doubt anyone could look away from those eyes.

"I like you a lot and...fuck, I don't want to do anything you aren't comfortable with or...sure about. Because I'm sure about you." He finishes, sincere and stoic while holding you against him. You feel like you're floating.

"I have a really big crush on you, Johnny," you kiss his mouth and he smiles against it, humming in contentment. Suddenly, your nerves are replaced by pure adrenaline. "and I like you a lot, too." When you pull back from his lips with a soft smack, his expression causes your skin to burn hot.

"So it'd be okay if I did..." he tilts your head to the side, and a flurry of goosebumps descend across your skin, his breath warm against your throat. "this?" A kiss, soft but purposeful, is placed there, and you shudder.

All you can do is nod in affirmation, heartbeat in your ears among other places. Your fingers run through the hair at the nape of his neck while his mouth begins placing warm, wet pecks against yours, and his body lurches when your thighs tighten around his torso.

It only manages to work you up further, of course, brain already high off of the fact that Johnny likes you back...in fact...he truly is as good as you've always thought, sweet and kind and nasty, groaning when you rut your hips against him.

"Baby, you're shaking." He mouths against your jaw, wondrously and laced with an undertone of hunger. His strong arms hold you tight, eyes softening when he looks down at you and realizes just how worked up you really are.

"I just want you really bad, Johnny." Your body emphasizes your point, chest pressed against the firmness of his, nipples hard behind your shirt. He can practically feel you throbbing.

It's a little fucked up, honestly.

No ones ever had him this head over heels, he feels himself melting against you, your voice sweet and syrupy, dripping with this ache just for him and he's losing it.

"Yeah?" He muses, the wide palm of his hands sliding down the curve of your back, and over the swell of your ass where it's planted so firmly atop of him - massaging you there. "Where do you want me, honey?"

The pet names have you too worked up, you really could get off of anything right now and he's tracing the back of your thighs now, swirling his soft fingertips around, leaving a wake of searing heat in their path.

"Want you everywhere, just - mmph." This kiss interrupts you, bruising in it's intensity and he cups your face softly as a silent apology despite the fact that you're letting out small coos of satisfaction, tugging at the ends of his messy hair.

For a second you feel like you're being lifted, not realizing he's just moved you both to the couch until your head is resting against the cushions, inky arms caging your body against the length of his. He groans when you palm at his stomach, touching and rubbing his sides and then the broad of his back.

All the while his free hand, the one that's not attached to the arm holding himself up, does some exploring of its own, palming your breasts through your shirt and squeezing with just enough pressure to have you arching into his touch.

Automatically, your legs wrap around his middle and your heels dig into the dimples of his back, and his hips pivot downwards to nestle right in between yours. You're both instantaneously struck by the sensation of your centers meeting, his length jerking inside of his pants, your clit throbbing in yours.

"Gonna touch you..." nimble fingertips dance over the skin of your inner thighs. "...here, is that okay?" The warmth of his hand cups your sex and now you're positive that wetness has begun to soak through your underwear, senses gone haywire from the way he's rubbing you, up and down.

"Mhm that's - yes, that's okay." You pant, desperate to feel him as well and reaching in between your bodies in an attempt to grasp at him - his height doesn't make this as easy as you thought and your pliant hands meet just his navel, the faintest of happy trails soft against the skin here.

He switches to his thumb now, instead of the heel of his palm to rub you through your shorts. He searches, for a short moment, finding what he's looking for and pressing the pad of his finger against your bud.

He kisses your whimper, shifting his hips and shuffling upwards just a smidge so that your hands can reach his hard cock. You have to maneuver your arm underneath his but it's working out fine so far, your eyes widening once you feel the twitch of his length.

"Oh." You gasp, expecting to have felt it all while you were on his lap, but missing by a longshot. He's big, bigger than anticipated and you're a bit too flustered as you follow it's bulge through his sweats. He groans your name, and you might be short circuiting.

"You're so hard...and b-big, Johnny you're really big." The incredulity of your voice only has his hunger growing, threatening to swallow him whole. In one breath your hands are pulled from him, pinned above your head with his gentle fingers barring your wrists.

"You're so fuckin' cute," he professes with an awed lilt, moving his hips in circles between yours - his shaft, heavy and thick, nudged against your lips. "wanna make you feel good...mm, wanna make you cum."

Butterflies threaten to flutter into your throat and suffocate you, his breath warm and sweet against your cheek before he's nipping at your earlobe. You feel like you're high, spinning yet completely grounded by his weight above you, against you.

"I want you Johnny, want you to fuck me." You try to turn your head, bashful of the way you're being so shameless but he's not having it, keeping his gaze on your every expression, trying not to lose his sanity when you grind yourself against him. Your voice, petulant and needy, is enough to have him at his wits end alone.

"I will baby, I will," he promises sweetly, accentuating his point by letting go of your wrists, and using one of his hands to pry your thighs open. He rolls his agile hips against you and the friction has you reaching out to grasp at his waist - trim and firm underneath your fingertips. "just gotta get you ready first."

He sits back on his haunches and you pout about the lack of content, his pleased grin a beacon as he hooks his fingers into your waistband, pulling your shorts off your hips and past your thighs - till they're at your ankles, and it feels surreal when he throws them somewhere behind the couch, too eager for his own good.

You're brought back to current reality when his big hands caress the tops of your thighs, before creeping down into the soft crease where they're shut closed in embarrassment, and pulling them apart.

He outwardly marvels and you wonder if he can see you clench, the moment overwhelmingly intimate with the way he's staring directly at the wet spot that’s soaked through the crotch of your panties. He takes only a moment to reach out and press his thumb against the dampness, balls tightening with the need to release each time you whimper or gasp.

With his cock leaking in his pants, he wastes no time, taking the flimsy piece of fabric off so fast you don't even have time to by shy about him seeing you naked and glistening in front of him. Furthermore, you don't think anyone could feel even the least but bad about themselves if he looked at them like this - slack jawed, and starved.

"Fuck...you're so beautiful," two long, inky fingers formed into the shape of a V, spread your lips open and then he's moving further away - no, scooting down onto his stomach, and suddenly his breath is a warm puff against your most sensitive parts. "so wet for me, hmm?"

You're not sure you can look away, too enraptured by the visual stimuli that's correlating with the circling of your swollen clit. You want to cry, a little bit. Scream, maybe. He's so beautiful you can't help but to reach out, running your fingers through the front of his chestnut hair and then his eyes are piercing through you like the shock of ice water.

Your body seems to register the feeling before you can process the sight by itself, back bowing off the couch, hips bucking. His hot, wet tongue licks at the hood of your clit, starting slow and picking up pace when you start to squirm. The blossoms painted across his skin decorate the arms that hold you down while his pillowy lips envelop the bud, suckling lewdly.

"O-oh, oh fu-mmm." You're already blubbering, lost and falling into the sensation of everything all at once. You've no doubt that he's had years of experience but this, you're not sure you've felt pleasure like this before.

"Feels good?" He mumbles between the flick of his tongue, hands traveling up the length of your body to grip your waist, kneading your skin. You almost laugh at the question, assuming your trembling body and the way you're involuntarily bucking against his mouth would suffice as an answer. Still, you humour him.

"Mmhm, feels- ohh, mhm feels good." Your voice is barely there, strained and whiny but he feeds off of your every utterance as if it's something he so desperately needs. The smacking between your legs becomes louder and like a magnet, you're drawn to the sight again, coil in your belly tightening impossibly.

He's a muss of hair, the dark strands tickling your thighs when his head moves from side to side. Your thighs attempt to clamp shut but then he's looking up at you again - purposeful in the way he maintains eye contact while he dives down and licks a stripe over your entrance.

You're not going to last long, and he knows this, from every twitch and squirm and whimper - he's preparing for your demise, humming in contentment while the lewd sounds of slickness continue.

He slips a finger inside of you, and then another once he realizes how soaked you are, and this proves to be the beginning of the end. You grip onto his forearms, needing to be grounded to something while he buries the digits inside of you, curling in a come hither motion.

It's all beyond what you thought pleasure could be, it's violet and red and all things euphoric behind your eyelids and the sound of his pleased groans are what finally have you giving out, melting against the couch cushions.

You're not sure if you're making any sound at all, honestly. It comes so quick, violent in it's force and you're hazy headed - tears welling in your eyes from the way he's still massaging you, licking you while your walls squeeze and contract around his fingers.

"That's it baby, mmm, let go."

The velvet voice is warm against your sensitive sex and you're still twitching as you peel your eyes open to peer down between your legs and see him there, staring up at you like you're the sun, slowing his movements while the aftershock of your orgasm seeps through you.

His knuckles are buried to the hilt inside of you and he pulls them out slowly, petal pink lips kissing your clit gently, adoringly. With your brain still foggy and embarrassment no longer present, you grab his wrist, bringing his slick soaked fingers to your mouth and wrapping your lips around them.

He moans an expletive and then he's hovering over you again, watching with a soaring heart as you suckle your juices clean from his digits, lashes fluttering when you open your eyes.

For once in his life, he's speechless. You have to pull him down to kiss you in order to breaks him from his reverie and it's now that he's realizing how excruciatingly hard he is. He doesn't remember the last time he's ever been this worked up without his dick even being touched for more than five minutes.

It's safe to say he's taken by surprise when your hand slips into his bottoms and briefs to palm him this time, and his body lurches against you while a desperate sound bellows in his throat.

"Baby." he coos, relishing in the softness of your palm, the difference in size of his own. He wants to protest when the intense bliss of it is gone, momentarily, only to feel your fingers attempting to pull his sweats down.

You're still buzzing from your orgasm but you've never been more positive about something; about someone. Your whole body feels as though it can't be satiated, not until you have all of him after having such a sweet taste.

"Please, now, want you now." You nibble on his bottom lip and he has to pull himself away or else he'll get too caught up in your mouth by itself, but he's on a mission - searching for his wallet and scrambling for it when he sees the leather square sitting on the floor.

The tips of your fingers and toes tingle with a mixture of unbearable anticipation, and nerves for what's about to come when he pulls the condom from his wallet and tears the corner of the foil.

It's just a second but it's enough to admire him silently, the twitch of his mouth, the elegance of his fingers even when they're eager and uncoordinated. A part of you feels overcome by the need to be encapsulated by his presence, for his skin to be a permanent silkiness against your lips.

He catches you in the midst of staring and it's like he's glowing from the inside out, pulling his pants down his thick thighs along with his black briefs, kicking them to the floor.

Without thinking your arms are reaching forward, gripping the small of his waist as if to still him, and he pauses at your will. He's cupping your chin with one hand while your fingertips explore underneath the hem of his shirt, and you're grateful that he's allowing you to soak this in, that he's not rushing despite the fact that both of you are like exposed lit wires.

"Here, let me take it off." His arms are reaching behind him before you can blink, biceps curling as he pulls his shirt off of his broad shoulders before discarding it with the rest of his clothing.

Your breath is audible, pupils blown wide while you examine the length of his torso and the permanent shapes that are marked there. Only patches of his honey skin peek through the array of tattoos he's got climbing his sides, over his chest, and you swear you've never seen someone so beautiful.

"Take mine off too." You barely manage to get out, and he's kissing your lips again with a soft sort of fondness, while his knuckles graze your skin and your shirt is being stripped from your body. He's back to kissing you and your naked chests meet for the first time, a fierceness gripping you by the throat when when when the shaft of his cock nudges your clit.

"You're sure about this?" He asks, gentle in the way he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, pecking your mouth between glances at your nipples where they rub against him. His touch travels to your jaw and down your neck, before he's tweaking the buds between his fingers, and your legs wrap around his middle in an effort to solidify your answer.

"Yes, I'm sure," you run your fingers through his hair. "very sure."

Lips press against your cheek and then you're presented with the sight of him again, bare in front of you, just a few inches away. It's now that you really find the courage to look at him, not expecting to be out of breath and shock stricken once you lay your eyes upon his dick.

It's pretty, as pretty as you knew it had to be; curved just slightly, the tip swollen with arousal and a shade deeper than that of his lips that you've come to have photographically memorized.

You watch with probably more fascination than most while his slim fingers roll the condom onto his length, down the shaft that protrudes with a small vein right in the middle, until it's snug and securing the fact that you and Johnny Seo are about to have sex.

As always, here there right when you need him most, aiding you in forgetting about anything that isn't crucial to right now. His arms are wrapping around your thighs and pulling you closer - your small gasp doesn't go unnoticed.

And then, there's also the way he's looking at you, again. It's like he's compacted every emotion you could feel in a moment like this, and somehow managed to reflect it's opacity back at you through the glimmer of his irises.

You jerk your hips against him and he grins at your urgency, diverting his attention to the space between your legs and holding you steady by the hips with one hand while the other goes to grip his cock.

He levels his pelvis with yours and brings the pink head down to your entrance where it leaks for him, gathering the slickness and smearing it through your folds, around your clit.

His fingers search for yours and suddenly he's interlocking them while you feel the initial stretch of his dick finally entering you, a soft expletive leaving his mouth while he pushes himself into you halfway, peering down with half lidded eyes as a silent affirmation.

Your expression must be as expressive as the soft mewls that involuntarily fall from your lips, and he bottoms out while leaning down to kiss you as he's come to realize that this action is single handedly way more addictive than it should be.

You feel so full it's impossible not whine, and within seconds he's pulling himself out of you nearly all the way - mouth hovering over yours so he can watch your features contort when he sheathes himself back in with a snap of his hips.

With the need to hold on to something becoming incessant, he allows you to throw your arms around his neck while your thighs tremble around him, his hips creating a slow but steady pace that draws lewd sounds from between your bodies with every slow drag of his thick cock.

It's strange, how you provoke such tenderness within him when you shudder and pant beneath him despite the fact that he's barely done anything yet- a juxtaposition to the feral, nagging type of ache that brews in the center of his belly to have you even more a mess.

It's not that he's fairing any better, though. Even you can see that, feel it in the way he keeps his lips on your skin, trying and failing miserably to hold back his groans while your nails create crescent moons on the broad of his back.

"You - f-fuck you feel s-so good." He stutters, and if you could find your words maybe you'd even have the confidence to tease him, but right now all you can comprehend is the feeling in which he's providing, the nudge of his tip so deep inside of you.

"Faster, can you - oh yes, yes." It's like he knows what you want before you get it out all the way, and his tongue is warm against your throat while he obliges your request, furthering your haziness.

You're quick to realize that Johnny is a generous lover. Despite the fact that he's holding himself together on the edge of his coherency, he's already atuned to each tense of your muscles, the strain of sweet sounds you coo in his ear. He uses this as a guide, working his hips skillfully, circling when he pushes himself back in.

The fact that you're sopping wet helps as well, audibly soaked and your walls are taking him in so generously he doesn't know what to do with himself. Your hands are in his hair and tug at the dark strands without thinking, drawing a sweet, serene moan from the back of his throat.

"Mm, feels good?" He asks despite knowing the answer, your countenance painted with the colors of bliss. He peers down in between your bodies and almost regrets it due to the pulse it sends through his groin - threatening to send him over the edge too soon.

But it's a sight too mesmerizing, his entire length disappearing inside of you with an easy glide, his hips colliding with the back of your thighs and your clit waiting to be played with. You're just as taken by the sight, surrounded by only him, inside of you and around you like a life force. Your hands travel over anywhere and everywhere, down to his belly where the muscles flex underneath the painted skin with every thrust.

"So good, you feel s-so good Johnny." You're becoming even more petulant but he doesn't mind, not when you're clinging onto his biceps and mewling his name. He slips his tongue into your mouth while his hands cup the back of your knees, hiking your thighs up higher around his middle.

Your skin burns where he touches, his pace increasing and now you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors knew exactly what it is that the two of you are doing, skin against skin and coos of pleasure echoing through your small apartment. You have a hard time forming thoughts that make sense.

"M' all the way up there baby," his voice is deceivingly sweet, hips dangerous and borderline ruthless now that you two are drenched in the essence of lust and desire, driven by your need to come undone. "such a sweet pussy."

He means it, too. Maybe that's what makes this all so much more enthralling. From the clench of his taut jaw, to the way his dark eyebrows are furrowed, even the crimson of his lips from the way he's been biting down on them - Johnny is nothing but honest. It's somehow stripped you of the shyness you'd normally be harboring, compelling your mouth to speak without a filter.

"It's all yours, I'm yours."

This seems to spur him on, more than you thought because now he's all but cradling you in his arms, mouthing his words against your lips, not allowing even a centimeter of space to reside between the two of your bodies. It feels whole, complete.

"Mm, yeah sweetheart? Mine. Fuck, you're all mine."

It's a growled statement and you quiver against his solid form, warmed from the inside out like a furnace and set ablaze. You're still sensitive from his mouth but that doesn't change the orb of pressure within your belly, or the waves of pleasure that spread through your thighs and up your spine from the way your clit is rubbing against his pelvis while his cock reaches new depths.

You should've known his mouth would be filthy, and it's really ticking every box you've literally ever needed to be ticked and you're sort of embarrassed by how far gone you are already, properly mewling with your fingers gripping onto his bulged biceps where he uses them to hold himself up.

His face is a sight to behold in itself, as well - plush lips parted, cheeks hot and a shade of deep, ravishing plum. If he weren't steadily hitting that sweet spot inside of you maybe you'd actually be able to keep your eyes open long enough to admire it more - but it's obvious it won't be long until you're unraveling.

He's thankful, in a way. Because you're sighing out sweet words that profess how good he's doing, and he swears that he's never felt anything as good as this. Through and through. You're made for him, wrapped around his being, tight like cellophane and it's silly but this is all he's dreamed of for months.

"Open your eyes sweetheart," his hips stutter at the same time you involuntarily squeeze around the tip of his cock as he goes to seep back into you and you're drawn to the plead of his voice. "let me - fuck, let me be yours, please?"

His voice is honey, coating you in it's sweetness and you're teetering on the edge of your release. It beckons you soothingly, like a siren in the wake of a wave and it doesn't calm when you pull him down to your mouth by the nape of his neck, your shared groans being swallowed by the other. Your thighs are a vice around his waist, keeping him locked against you as he grinds his cock into you.

"You're mine, J-John- oh, oh please." His fingers have reached down in the limited space between your shared skin to rub your clit in circles and you know this is it - mind and body completely encircled by everything he's made of, the scent of his skin and the heat of his body and even the way he says your name.

"Want you to cum for me, please, please cum for me baby." His breath is warm against your ear, a vibration that wracks through all of your senses and your body knows it's coming before you do - instantly under the influence of his begs and pleas.

You're descending, voice nothing but a gasp and an echo of an expletive when the dam inside of you finally bursts - leaving you to tremble like a leaf beneath him while the feeling threatens to consume you inch by inch, nerve by nerve. 

You've all but gone limp, bright dots of light flitting through your vision and you feel his mouth everywhere, like a soft, warm reassurance that he's not going anywhere while you spasm around him.

"Just like that, oh fuck, yeah just like that."

In this place of completeness, you bask in the rise in octave of his usually low timbred voice, in the way he's holding you so firmly in his arms, as if scared to let go and put even an inch of separation between the two of you.

You're still twitching when you feel him throb inside of you, your name a warm whisper against the side of your neck while he pumps himself into you with no real rhythm; filling the condom with spurts of his cum while your fingers gently scratch the back of his scalp, through his hair.

Your breaths are ragged and have only that in common, his weight comforting despite the fact that both of you are in such a fragile state. It all feels surreal, like maybe you’ll wake up soon even with his cock still buried inside of you, half hard. More than anything, it feels right. Apprehension nor guilt nor worry brews underneath your skin, instead overshadowed by pure elation.

Wet pecks travel across your throat like marks of gratitude and your smile is automatic, involuntary.

"I meant it, you know," he's out of breath but concise, palm cupping the side of your face as he makes his way to your mouth and kisses you there, afraid to look you in the eyes. "about...about what I want. About wanting you."

You actually do laugh this time, suddenly outrageously giddy at the words leaving his pretty mouth, mildly entertained by the fact that someone could be almost as oblivious as you are. Almost.

He looks worried for only a split second until you're kissing his face, over his nose and fuchsia cheeks, a feather against the soft autumn ground.

"I meant it too," your voice is light, airy and he swears he'd believe anything you told him, even if it weren't as absolutely resolute as it is right now; your smile against his lips like a seal of promise. He meets your gaze, and everything within him calms, settles.

"I'm yours. And you're mine."

This, he thinks to himself, is all he's wanted to hear since the day you looked up at him with all the stars in your eyes.

Completely worth Jaehyun stealing his Armani denim jacket, honestly.

[saiyanwhore]

Dragon Ball Z: Boyfriend Scenarios

Part Three: How He Confesses His Feelings

A/N: Sorry it took so long everyone!!

Goku

The only person in the group that knew of Goku's crush on you was Bulma. She was always rooting him on and giving him tips.

This morning, she suggested he try to cook for you since you were always cooking for him.

You walked downstairs to the smell of something good...and something burning. It was a weird mix.

Immediately alarmed, you hurried yourself to see what was going on. You were immediately stopped by a panicked looking Goku.

"No, no Y/N you can't come down just yet." He nervously chuckled.

"What did you do Goku? It smells like burnt food in here!"

"Really! There's no reason to worry! I promise! It's all under control." He flashed you his goofy grin as you attempted to push past him.

"Goku! Come on! What is going on!?"

"It's under control Y/N!" You hear Bulma's voice shout.

"Bulma!?" You were shocked. "Goku you must have really fucked up if Bulma's here to fix it!"

"Please, Y/N!"

"Move!"

"No!"

"Move Goku!"

"I can't."

You knew just how to get him. Tickling.

You began to tickle his sides as he doubled over and you quickly sped past him and into the kitchen. You looked at the table to see your favorite breakfast food prepared.

Goku came up behind you and placed a hand on the small of your back. He looked a little red in the face as Bulma laughed.

"He tried to make you breakfast and completely failed." She laughed. "I came to help out. Almost done! Just finishing up the orange juice."

Bulma winked at Goku as you turned around and started giggling.

"Well, you see. I've never been the best at cooking and..."

You interrupted. "Goku, it's alright. I appreciate the effort. Thank you."

You engulfed him in a hug being sure to squeeze him extra tight. His large arms snaked around your waist as he began to whisper in your ear.

"You know, I tried to make breakfast. Well, because..." He sighed softly. "I kind of, sort of like you a lot."

You started laughing even harder, Goku pulling away and giving you a confused look. He scratched the top of his head as you continued your laughter.

"Goku! Come back!" You grabbed his hand and pulled him into another hug. "Surprise! I like you too." You whispered back.

"Told you so!!" Bulma stuck her tongue out at Goku as you happily sat down at the table.

Vegeta

Tonight Bulma was throwing a party and despite not wanting to go at all, Vegeta did because he knew you would be there.

It was nice to take a break from training and just hang out.

Throughout the night, you danced, drank just a little, and chatted with everyone.

It wasn't until the night was almost over that you remembered Vegeta said he would be here tonight.

You were so used to not seeing him at these sorts of things that you just sort of expected him not to show up.

Vegeta had been sitting inside watching TV the entire time you were outside with everyone. He had even gotten so comfy on the couch, he fell asleep.

"Hey, have you seen 'Geta?" You questioned Bulma.

She pointed inside, to which you quickly rushed in.

You found him sprawled out on the couch, snoring away. He must have been tired from training.

You giggled as you crouched down next to the Saiyan. "Vegeta." You whispered his name. He didn't budge.

You stood up, gently picked him up walked outside where you immediately flew away, being careful not to wake him.

You were going to your place.

Once you landed, you walked inside and gently placed him on the couch, grabbing him a pillow and blanket. You covered him up and gave his forehead a soft kiss before making yourself a cup of coffee.

You sat down in one of your chairs, sipping away at the warm drink, waiting for him to wake up.

Eventually, he did.

His onyx eyes fluttered open and an immediate look of confusion plastered on his face. He glanced around the room before spotting you and quickly sitting up.

"Woman! Where am I?"

You laughed. "My house. You fell asleep at the party. I carried you here."

Vegeta's heart fluttered at the thought of you carrying him back to your house. Taking care of him.

"Who knew that the Prince of all Saiyans looked so cute while sleeping." You teased him. "Want some coffee?"

His face went red as he looked down at the floor. "Please..." He grumbled, rolling his eyes.

You made him some and handed it to him, taking a seat next to him on the couch.

"You were really out cold. I tried to wake you, but you just kept snoring."

Vegeta felt a wave of embarrassment fall over him as he shrugged. "You should have left me there, woman."

"Oh yeah. As if. Bulma would have rolled you off the couch and yelled at you to get out. You're not exactly the nicest to anyone other than me." You chuckled. "Why am I so special anyway, Vegeta? Why do you only talk to me?"

"I train with you."

"Ah."

Vegeta took a sip of his drink before leaning forward and setting it on the table.

"Well, you're special to me Vegeta." You looked away, a bit flustered.

He just grunted, crossing his arms and looking toward the ceiling.

"Vegeta. I like you. A lot."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do."

"You only think you do."

"I like you Vegeta. As hard as it is to like you, I do. I like how you're not easy on me simply because I'm a girl. And how you treat me like a warrior. I admire you. You're strong and proud. I love that about you."

Vegeta's face went as red as a tomato. His voice was low. "How convenient."

"Huh?"

"Oh god, I've become all...soft." He cringed. "For god sakes woman, I like you too!"

Gohan

"Absolutely not Gohan! You two are getting too old to be having sleepovers together!" Chi-Chi said to her son.

"Oh come on mom! Y/N and I are just friends! Just this one time! Last time I swear!"

"That's what you said last time! No!" She crossed her arms and started tapping her foot.

"Mom, please! I promise this time is a definite last time!" He begged. "I'll put in extra time for studying!"

Chi-Chi's ears perked up once he mentioned studying.

"Okay Gohan, but this is the last time!"

"Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!" He laughed as he flew out the front door towards your house.

Gohan landed at your front door, knocking rapidly.

You opened with a happy face. "You convinced her?"

"Yeah! All I had to tell her was extra studying!" Gohan laughed as he entered your house.

"Gohan, sweetie! How are you?" Your mother greeted.

"Oh just lovely, Mrs. L/N. And you?"

"I'm doing good!"

You grabbed Gohan's hand and dragged him up to your room where the two of you sat on your bed.

"Sneaking out tonight, right?" You questioned.

"Uh, yeah!"

Up until the start of the new school year, you and Gohan did this all the time. You'd stay the night at one another's house and sneak out at night. Most of the time it was to stargaze.

When it finally was nighttime, the two of you opened your window and flew out to an old abandoned barn in the middle of nowhere.

You landed on the roof, Gohan laying back and staring up at the sky, hands behind his head.

"This really might be the last time we do this." He mumbled. "Mom's been pretty strict about us seeing one another lately."

You scooted closer to him, laying down. "I don't know why..." You responded.

Gohan nervously chuckled and took a deep breath. "I think she thinks we like each other or something."

Your heart began to thump as you looked over at him, his eyes shimmering under the stars.

"Well, she has every right to be suspicious. Neither one of us date and we're with each other all the time."

"Yeah. Right." He grinned, grabbing your hand.

You tightly gripped his hand, eyes locking with his.

"Maybe mom is right about us."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, hypothetically speaking, what if I liked you and you liked me and we started dating, huh?"

You smiled at him.

"Would it give me permission to do this?" You rolled over and straddled him, his cheeks immediately turned red and eyes wide.

You leaned down and kissed him square on the lips, his hands moving to your waist.

He tasted so sweet and lovely.

He pulled away due to the need for air and looked up at you. "I think I'm going to need you to do that again just to be sure."

Future Trunks

It had been a few months since the last time you had seen him. You were beyond excited.

Trunks had told you the exact date, location, and time of when he'd arrive.

It was only a matter of time before the androids would show up, and not only were you excited, you were also scared to see what was going to happen.

You stood impatiently, tapping your foot. Krillin stood by your side as you nervously chewed at your nails.

"Hey Y/N it will be alright. I'm sure he'll be here any mo-" And before Krillin could answer, the air zapped and the time machine appeared right before your eyes. It landed on the ground and you immediately flew up to the top, busting open the dome to reveal Trunks.

"Trunks!" You grinned, grabbing his hand and pulling him out.

He looked up at you with his bright blue eyes, a grin plastered on his face. He laughed softly before nervously scratching his neck.

"Y/N! Good to see you too."

"Come on you two! We don't have much time." You heard Piccolo from the ground.

You both flew down. Piccolo and Krillin stayed with you to wait for Trunks while the rest of the gang headed to gather in the designated area.

Piccolo and Krillin lifted off and you and Trunks followed.

"I missed you." You mumbled, glancing over at him.

"Me too, Y/N." He looked down.

Silence filled the air as you traveled Trunks looked nervous and on edge. It was understandable considering he was facing the androids, who destroyed his future.

"It'll be okay Trunks. We'll beat them together." You smiled.

His eyebrows knitted as he looked over at you with worry glistening in his eyes. He frowned. "No, Y/N. You don't understand what they're like. They've killed thousands of innocent people in my future. They won't hesitate to do it here either. They're monsters."

You flew a little closer to him and grabbed his hand. "I know. Which is why I'm motivated to kill them once and for all."

Trunks squeezed your hand softly before clearing his throat.

"Y/N, before we arrive. And before we begin our battle, there's something you need to know." His throat bobbed.

"Yes?"

"If the androids kill you or me I need you to know..." He choked. "I love and like you a lot."

Piccolo

Another day at the lookout...

"Hey, Piccolo." You disturbed the Namekian during his meditation session.

He opened one of his eyes and peeked over at you, a small smile playing upon his lips as he crossed his arms.

"What is it, Y/N?"

You laughed at him before walking over and grabbing one of his hands and tugging him along gently.

"I want take out. It's been soooooo long!" You grinned ear to ear.

"Fine." He had been looking for an excuse to be alone with you anyway. Dende and Mr. Popo always seemed to be sneaking in to watch the two of you flirt like a soap opera or something.

"What?" You were shocked he gave in so easily.

His forehead crinkled. "I said fine. Don't make me regret it."

"Yes! Yes! Yes! You're the best, Big Green!"

A purple tint appeared on his cheeks.

*Later*

You and Piccolo were preparing to leave the lookout, saying a quick "goodbye, see ya soon" to Dende and Popo.

You both flew down towards the ground, Piccolo attempting to make small talk whilst you made your way to the Chinese restaurant.

"Why didn't you just go on your own?" He questioned, not looking over in your direction. You had put something nicer than usual on to get his attention, and it had worked by the look on his face.

"I enjoy your company clearly. You are the reason I am even at the lookout, Piccolo. I mean, seriously. I'm just a mere human."

He growled. "No. You're a warrior."

"Well still."

You eventually landed and Piccolo walked closely by your side as you made your way down the street.

The Namekian held a hand to the small of your back, guiding you along. He really was a gentleman no matter how tough he liked to act at times.

"You know, I appreciate you coming with me." You grinned up at him.

"Uh. Yeah. Sure."

You grinned as you leaned into his side. His heart stopped as he looked off into the distance with a blush overcoming his face.

"Why do you always go purple when I touch you?"

"W-What?" He exclaimed, a panicked look on his face.

You giggled softly. "I think someone has a crush on silly, old me."

"What? No!"

"Yes!" You stuck your tongue out at him.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"And so what if I did?" He stopped dead in his tracks and crossed his arms.

"Well, I'd say I like you too."

"You would?"

"Mhm." You nodded, falling into his chest.

It took the Namekian by surprise, but soon you felt his arms snake around you and you stood in his embrace for a while before starting back up on your walk. His hand is yours.

[wagner-fell]

I am still very new to this website and I don’t know how link a post but this fic is based on a post by @sandersgrey

(If someone reading this knows how to link a post please either explain it to me or link it in the comments because that post is *amazing*)

“Hmmm,” said Tessa, depositing Mina into Kit’s waiting arms and examining her buzzing phone critically. She shot a quizzical look in his direction.

Jem looked up from his novel. “What is ‘hmmm’, my love?”

Kit mimed vomiting but stopped dead in his tracks when she replied, “it’s Astrid’s mother. You remember her from parent teacher night, don’t you, my darling?” Kit swears they were being extra insufferable just to mess with him but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed when Astrid’s. Mom. Was. Calling. Tessa.

To understand why Kit was panicking as much as he was, you must know that Astrid’s mom was incredibly chill. She never got mad. The worst punishment she’d ever given her daughter was taking away her iPod for a week so she couldn’t listen to Mitski.

Was she calling about last night when Astrid, Mari and Kit threw eggs at the Shadowhunter’s that were giving Mari’s pack a hard time for no reason? No, that couldn’t be it. She’d given them the eggs.

Could the call be about the day before yesterday when Kit and Astrid got distracted doing homework and ended up snapping the coffee table clean in half while battling gladiator style with pool noodles? No, that wasn’t it. She’d just handed Astrid a twenty and told them to go to Kevin’s parents' shop and get a new one. Was she pissed because they ended up spending the money on ice cream instead? No, they ended up finding a table for free in the rubbing bin outside a fancy hotel.

Kit clutched his sister to his chest and prepared for the worst.

“Seo-yoon! What can I do for- Oh, hello Astrid!” Tessa paused briefly, presumably to listen to Astrid speak, and Kit sighed in relief.

“Kit is occupied at the moment but I can relay the message.” Another pause. “Oh don’t be frightened of me. I’m a tots rad mom. Your secret is safe with me.” Kit felt his face flush red as he heard his best friend’s laughter echo across the living room. “Okay! I’ll let him know. He has to get Mina to sleep before he can leave though. Lord knows he’s the only one who can these days.” Tessa chuckled at something Astrid said before wishing her good luck in her endeavour and ending the call.

She turned her attention back to Kit. “Astrid needs your help breaking into your teacher’s home to retrieve her cell phone.”

Kit blinked at her, dumbfounded. “You aren’t mad I’m going to go break the law?”

Because of course he was doing it. Astrid’s dad had bought it for her and he was extremely cautious about money. That was one of three things Kit knew about her dad. He was cheap, he lived in America and he loved the movie Fight Club.

Tessa ruffled Kit’s hair affectionately. “Please. I’ve raised two other Herondales. At least I know about this particular adventure beforehand.”

Mina began snoring softly and Kit handed her back to her mother. He grabbed his bag and started his journey to the door when Tessa added, “she also told me to say hi to a ‘daddy Kit’. Are you ‘daddy Kit?’”

‘Daddy Kit’ closed his eyes and wished for the sweet release of death.

“Why is Kit a daddy,” Jem asked, genuinely confused. “Aren’t I the daddy?”

Kit swung the door open so fast not even a speed rune could have aided him. But not before I heard Tessa reply, “Lily Chen certainly thinks so.”

Mrs. MacNamara clapped her hands together. “Why don’t we all go around and say a few things about ourselves?”

Kit buried his face into his hands. He’d been relieved when no other teacher had fulfilled the Disney channel stereotype of making every student introduce themselves to the new kid. But Mrs. MacNamara didn’t even seem to realize what she was doing.

All Kit’s fellow classmates groan. Expect one. Her hand shot up immediately. She was short, like smaller than Clary short. She wore a baggy pink shirt with the words ‘Queen Glimmer of Etheria’ sewed on with purple sequins and tight black jeans. Her colourful, choppy hair was in a low ponytail and she flew a few strands out of her eyes as her hand wiggled in the hair.

Mrs. MacNamara pointed at her. She stood up and smiled at Kit. “Hi. My name is Astrid. My hobbies include making my little cousin’s girl Barbies kiss, as it should be, and watching television shows where everyone is a terrible person so you can love all of them!”

“And what shows might that be?” asked Kit, already in the process of pulling out his phone and opening the Notes app.

“Grey’s Anatomy, Glee, Grey’s Anatomy again because it’s seventeen seasons as of right now. And to be fair it practically became a different show when they killed off Mark Sloan.”

“That’s enough, Miss Yang,” said Mrs. MacNamara. Astrid sat down and winked at Kit. Then she took out her phone and airdropped him a complete list of all her favorite shows, along with her number.

After Blessica’s pre-birthday birthday party, they went to Cirenworth and stayed up till four A.M. binging them.

They met outside a queer dry bar called Aries Not Welcome, the unspoken gathering place of the Merry Hoes. It was run by a poly lesbian couple in their mid-thirties. Quinn, Sydney and Aliyah may not have served alcohol but at least they were open 24/7.

“Did you bring the shit?”

Kit gave her a look. “The shit? How conclusive.”

“Shut up. You know, the shadowhunter thing.”

“The shadowhunter thing?”

“The, the, the glow stick that you draw with.”

“The glow stick that I draw wi-“ Kit closed his eyes briefly. “Do you mean a stele?”

Astrid snapped her fingers. “That’s it!” Kit shook his head in exasperation, smiling fondly. “I borrowed a torch from Quinn, let’s move.”

“Should I be worried that you know where Mr. Smith lives?” questioned Kit as he followed Astrid’s lead through the park.

“Should I be worried that your mom was fine with us breaking and entering?” she shot back playfully. Kit pushed Astrid and she fell off the path, laughing all the way.

“You called me ‘daddy’ to my mom’s face.”

She just laughed harder, slinging her arm around Kit’s shoulder. “It was over the phone, Christopher. And as I should.”

“Pffffttt. Why did you get your phone taken anyway?” She put her hands into her jumper pocket and looked at the ground. “Astrid.” She remained silent. “Astrid?”

She mumbled something under her breath. “What?” asked Kit.

“I WAS READING NINEJ FANFICTION!” she shouted.

Kit gasped. “I thought you were a die hard Kanej shipper,” he whispered.

“I’m a multishipper, okay?!” she replied, equally quiet.

“Does Blessica know?”

She shook her head. “And she will never find out.”

Kit saw the opportunity and he seized it. “She’ll never find out as long as you never call me daddy in front of either of my parents.”

She removed her arm from his shoulder and guided them out of the park, in the direction of the many apartments that lined this side of town. “I hate you.”

“Well, so does Mari. You're not special, Ast.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know Mari doesn’t actually hate you, right?! They’re just still in the enemy phase of your enemies-to-lovers romance. She only dislikes you because they feel something for you but they don’t know what so she interrupts it as loathing. In reality, her inner soul knows you’re hot and shmexie.”

Kit didn’t know how to process this so he just nodded and follow Astrid in silence to Mr. Smith’s house. (Plus, he was kinda glad that, according to his best friend, he had a little more time for Mari to ‘discover their true feelings’. If Kit screwed this up, he was out of countries to run off to.)

“Oh you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What,” asked Kit, turning around to face Astrid and closing the drawer he was rifling through. “Did you find your phone?”

“Yeah. But I also found Blessica’s. She was Snapping Kevin. Platonic my ass. But he took the fucking trans flag out of her phone!”

Kit snatched Blessica’s phone out of her hand to examine it for herself. She was telling the truth. Where the glitter pride flag usually rested was just a clear purple case. Kit couldn’t believe his eyes.

“It’s one thing to misgender her every day.” Blessica had forced all four of the other Merry Hoes to sign a contract saying they wouldn’t do anything to harm him because of it. “But this is the last straw. You know what we have to do.” Oops.

“Yeah, but we don’t have any spray paint.”

Kit eyed Mr. Smith’s pink sofa, blue bar stool covers and white picture frames. “I think I have something better in mind.”

It would have been easier for both parties to just zip off the sofa cushions and tape them to the wall but by ripping them off in strips, they ensured he would have to buy new ones. And judging by the car he drove and the fiji water in his fridge, Mr. Smith could definitely afford it.

That reminded him, “I’ll finish up with this. Go put all his fiji water into my bag.” Astrid saluted him and ran off. “Wait.” She stopped and looked at him. “Steal all the remotes you can find.”

“How is he not awake?,” asked Astrid as they ripped the fabric of his seating from the stool.

He shrugged. “Don’t question it.” He shoved the bundle of cloth into her arms. “Glue this above the pink. I’ll handle the frames.”

“Say the magic word,” she sang.

“Please?”

“No. Lesbian. Come on, I thought you knew me better than that.”

Kit laughed quietly. “Can you lesbian glue this above the pink?”

She grinned at Kit. “It would be my pleasure.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hello! Sorry I haven’t written anything in so long. School just restarted and it has been…a lot.

@adoravel-fenomeno @thechangeling @the-blackdale @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @im-not-ruined-im-ruination @ithurielkeepsgettingkidnapped @noah-herondale-lightwood @arangiajoan @shelvesofgold @maxboythedog @book-dragon-not-worm @hardlymatters

Very sorry if I forgot anyone. Lmk if you want to be addEd/removEd from the tag list.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Sacrifice Part 9: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: there's one final sacrifice to be had.

wc: 1.2k

tw: none

masterlist

The town is silent as you land in the garden of the General Commissioner and slide off of Gojo’s back with ease. You pat his head tenderly, whispering your thanks to the dragon before approaching the large estate with trepidation.

“Just go in there and get him to come out of the house,” you mumble, clenching and unclenching your fists. The windows are darkened and the house is quiet, you note, trying to ascertain where the General Commissioner is sleeping in the sprawling house. You peek through various windows and doors, glancing upon empty rooms until you finally see him, laying the bed with his eyes closed. At the sound of his snores, you grimace, but slide open the window, letting the cool night air wheeze into the room. Instantly, he awakens, and you duck down as Gakuganji rolls out of bed, his bones cracking with old age.

“I don’t remember opening the window,” he mutters, but as he goes to close it, you raise up and reply,

“You didn’t.” The color drains from his face as he faces you, expecting your specter to waft through the window and assault him.

“Y-y/n,” he breathes, and you raise a brow. “How did you-- are you--what--” As he sputters words out of his mouth, you walk back toward the garden. And in his folly, Gakuganji follows you outside, still demanding to know how you’re on his estate.

When the long shadow passes over you, you wait for Gojo to land, and then climb onto his back with ease.

“What the hell?!”

Before Gakuganji can make it back into the house, Gojo takes off and snatches him up in his claws, and hefts him up into the air. His yells of terror cut through the silence of the night, and for a brief second, you consider laughing at him because, well… he sounds like a terrified young man. Gojo laughs, which sounds more like a rumble than laughter, but as you fly toward the mountain, you realize everything is going smoothly with the plan. Perhaps this wouldn’t be too nerve-wracking after all, you muse as you all land on the hard surface of the mountaintop. Gakuganji is dropped to his feet, whereupon he does a pitiful roll and lands face-first in the moon-illuminated dirt. You unsheath the dagger from your cloak as you slide off of Gojo’s back a second time, and approach the elder with determination, intent on slitting his throat and calling the deed done.

But a cold hand stops you, pressing down on your shoulder with intense pressure and bringing you to your knees.

“Come on, y/n. You really didn’t think it would be that easy.” The second leg of the plan is set in motion. Gojo instantly changes from a white dragon into his human form in a flash of yellow and blue lightning, running up behind Toji and tackling him to the ground.

“Go!” Gojo yells, tousling with the god of death as you recover and bring yourself to a standing position. Gakuganji has gained a few feet of distance, but that’s nothing as you compensate for the loss and charge after him. You’re a hair's breadth away from grabbing the General Commissioner by the neck of his robe, but your hand meets rock hard flesh before it’s twisted painfully.

“Ah!” you gasp, trying to worm out of Toji’s grasp but failing miserably as he brings you to your knees, his green eyes flashing in the moonlight.

“Fucking human,” he spits, twisting your hand even more. “You’re interfering with laws that go beyond your mortal existence.”

“Fuck you,” you hiss, dagger still gripped in your other hand. With one arm, you swipe at Toji’s kneecaps, but he disappears in a puff of smoke, reappearing behind you and knocking the dagger out of your hand with his foot. You land face-first in the dirt, and he grinds his foot into the arm pinned beneath it, making you holler out in agony.

“Gojo!” you cry out, turning your head, but your savior is nowhere to be seen.

“He’s over the side of the mountain. It’s easy to break a dragon’s legs,” Toji chuckles, foot pressing down even harder on your arm. You feel the bones in your forearm scream in pain and nearing their breaking point when a very strong gust of wind knocks Toji off of you and onto the ground behind you. As you drag yourself to your feet again, you see streaks of red and blue-green circling the mountain as the God of Wind descends from the skies.

Toji is kept in place on his back with an unforgiving stream of wind, and the high-speed air blows his hair and skin back, ripping his flesh from his muscle and muscle from bone as you fumble for the dagger about a yard away from you. Once you find it and begin to corner a surrounded and terrified Gakuganji, you hear Megumi yell over the torrent,

“That’s enough, father!”

“I would have never suspected my son would betray me like this,” Toji groans, the scattered skeleton bones gathering back together into the shape of a man. Yuji appears from the streaks, removing the blue-green color, and Choso follows behind him, both advancing upon Toji with purpose. “But I suppose you and your friends will have to endure endless torment, too.”

“You’re done for,” you call out to Gakuganji, who is dangerously close to the mountain. “It’s over, Commissioner.” Gakuganji tilts his head at you, brows scrunching together.

The battle between gods is ensuing behind you and effectively distracting Toji, you think. What else could go wrong? You grab Gakuganji by the front of his robe and turn him so his back is to the cold ground. The moonlight above you glints off of your blade as you raise it to the sky, and then as if by magic, everything slows down and you feel drawn out of yourself.

You’re watching yourself from afar as you bring the blade closer to Gakuganji’s neck, and if you turn your head ever so slightly, you can see Yuji and Choso both being brought to their knees under Toji’s grip, then fall to the earth with twin thuds. Megumi is whipping the wind around him to protect himself as he attempts to rush at his father, but--

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for you.”

You’re instantly drawn back into your body in real-time, and right as you nick the flesh of Gakuganji’s throat, you see blood splatter over the front of his clothes. That’s a lot of blood for a nick, you think, but a searing hot pain roars through your flesh and you involuntarily cough, causing more blood to dot Gakuganji’s face and neck. Your hand lets him go and clutches at your neck, blood coating your fingers in thick streams as you sink to your knees.

“I should’ve done this sooner. Would have saved me the trouble of incapacitating so many immortals,” Toji grumbles, and your head lolls back as the air you’re trying to save escapes through the slit in your throat. You’re choking on your own blood, jerking like a fish out of water as your eyesight fades and you’re fading into the darkness with the moon and there’s rain and there’s rain and it’s raining?

It’s raining

It’s rainin

It’s raini

It’s rain--

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST:

@sunfloweroranges @jibe-gajima @jotazinha @brownskinnedgirll @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9 @fuegy-fuegy @ambiguous-something @kontentious@missbonekitty @fyotituti @honouredsatoru @sandyscastle @flare-on @sasahime @ggotgame @just4readingfics

[nightshade-minho]

-Embers- (1)

warnings: suggestive, future smut, themes of death

wc: 5.3k

teaser 

White specks of paint, scattered across an inky sky - they truly were beautiful. You adjusted yourself on the grassy hill, eyes closing as you tried to calm your nerves. Sighing, you ran your hand over crimson scales, trying to ignore the blinding lights of your village in the distance.

“The stars are beautiful tonight.”

You wished you could stay here forever. Where the only sounds that grace your ears are the deep rumbling snores of the enormous draconian creature you're curled up against. It's a comforting sound, and yet you knew you were going to have to leave soon. Your father would be absolutely enraged if you were late to such an important event- in fact, you were sure he’d have absolutely no qualms killing you in front of the entire village and crowning a broomstick as his heir instead.

Perhaps that's why you delayed the inevitable for a little longer, nuzzling your head against the dragon's hide. Your heart was pounding in your chest as you observed your bustling village from above, frantically getting ready for the festival and the welcoming. People were decorating their houses, painting murals onto their walls and making sure everything was perfect for the guests that would arrive tonight.

The streets were lit up with lanterns, and the people milling about outside their houses were dressed up in their best. The excitement in the atmosphere was palpable, and you could almost feel it from atop the hill.

Sighing, you looked to the side, your eyes meeting enormous yellow ones.

“Aeracus...I know what you’re thinking.” You sighed and curled up your knees to your chest. “And you’re right. I’m nervous, but also excited. I can’t believe we’re going to be seeing him again after all these years. Can you?”

The dragon slowly shook his head from side to side, and you chuckled. “Do you think he’s changed? Or do you think he’s still a feline-obsessed asshole?” You smiled, his laughter ringing in your ears as you reminisced.

Slowly though, the good memories bled into terrible ones. Loss and pain, mingling in your heart and taking over your emotions. The smile disappeared from your face as you remembered what had happened. The reason he left. The reason you weren’t allowed to participate in the championships that were to be a part of the festival’s celebrations...the reason the whole village considered you an outcast, despite being the chief’s daughter.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, pushing your hair back as you slowly stood up, dusting off your tunic. You pressed a kiss to the dragon’s neck, sighing.

“I’m going to go, Aeracus. Honestly, you should be grateful you don’t have to partake in these events.”

The dragon let out a disapproving rumble at that, and your face softened. That was a low blow. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he was forced to to refrain from joining his fellow dragons in the games. No, the blame was to be shared between you and Minho.

The felicity in your heart was intertwined with a faint sense of lingering sorrow. It happened so many years ago, and yet the echoes were still fresh in your mind...

You couldn’t deny that you were desperate to see him again. In fact, saying you were desperate would probably be an understatement. You were thrilled, electrified- and yet, oh so anxious.

You clenched your fists, taking in a deep breath and starting to descend the hill. You’d put it off for long enough.

***

“Children, listen carefully, now.”

The boy next to you didn’t heed the elder’s warning, continuing to draw on the back of his hand.

“Minho! Pay attention, or I will have to call your father.”

Minho looked up, scowling. He placed the chalk down and pursed his lips, directing his attention towards the clay figurines that were laid out in front of the elderly woman. You, as well as the 10 other kids in the cottage, were fascinated by the story being told. The woman was teaching you about your culture, the information you needed to know regarding the upcoming ceremony. It was important, and yet Minho couldn’t bring himself to care. He liked cats more than dragons anyway.

“As I was saying.” She cleared her throat, resuming her lesson.

“Now that you children are 13, you are no longer babies. Certain things are expected of you. You have embarked on your journey to adulthood...and thus, there are certain things you must know. The elements of our village, for one.”

She gestured to the figurines on the dirt floor in front of her. “As you all already know, there are four elements.” She pointed to a spiky pyramid, and then to a smooth sphere. “Ember, Aqua...” Her fingers moved to the next pair- a rough cube and a glassy cone. “...Terra and Aer. These are the symbols of the elements. Of course, you all have already seen the life-sized versions of these in our square.”

Eager nods, making her continue with a pleased smile.

“Every dragon on this planet has a corresponding element that they have control over. They possess immense power, and the ability to command these elements.”

Minho raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Hm, maybe this wasn’t as lame as he’d thought it would be..

“I’m sure you children have seen your parents, older friends and relatives with their dragons.” There was a chorus of agreement, and the woman nodded.

“Well, from next week onwards, you will each have your own dragons. Through the ceremony, you will all be assigned a hatchling, with which you will spend the rest of your life.”

Minho hummed in curiosity as the woman dismissed the class. “Good luck, loves. Remember, there will be a few more classes to brief you further.”

The others started filing out slowly as you turned to Minho. “Isn’t this exciting?” You tilted your head, running your eyes over the figurines. “Since my family are all fire elementals, do you think I’ll get an ember dragon?”

“I don’t think it works that way. My father said it doesn’t matter what family you come from, the dragon you get matched with can be of any element, apparently. Though it hasn’t ever happened yet.” He shrugged.

“Really?”

“Yeah.” He yawned. “I already knew everything she said. I could have used this valuable time for something else.” He was lying, to be honest. The only thing he knew about dragons was what he’d just told you.  

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Do you wanna go to the lake?”

You grinned. “Sure, let’s!” You nodded in agreement as Minho stood up eagerly, grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the cottage. You giggled as he dragged you. “Hey, slow down! Also, we can’t be there for long. We’ve got to be home for that joint dinner, or our fathers will be very mad.”

“Eh, they’d barely notice if we’re gone. When discussing village matters, they don’t give a fuck about their own children, even.” He muttered bitterly.

“Well...that is true.” You sighed as Minho pulled you all the way to the lake, weaving past the villagers, even bumping into some of them. A few of them frowned and made shouts of displeasure, while others didn’t seem to mind. Or maybe they did, and was just too afraid to voice their anger towards the chiefs’ children.

The cottages start becoming more sparse, the trees more tightly clustered. Minho held your hand tightly as you made your way through the woods. Finally, the two of you reached the clearing.

Letting go of your hand gently, Minho sat at the edge of the lake, beckoning you over to sit next to him.

“I wish this place wasn’t so far away from the village.” You sighed, legs aching as you flopped down onto the grass.

Minho shook his head slowly, his fingers fiddling with a tiny dandelion he’d pulled out. “The further away, the better.” He grumbled, blowing on it and watching as the seeds floated in the breeze.

You sighed. There it was, again. You knew better than to oppose him, so you hummed, scooting a little closer and placing your hand on top of his. “I know you want to leave this place. I know you want to...to explore the world. I just want you to know that whatever you decide to do, I’ll be by your side.” You said honestly.

Minho looked up at you. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

He felt like there was a lump in his throat. Minho knew how much this village and its culture meant to you. You were really willing to do that for him? Leave, and never come back?

“Listen here, Miss L/n.” He turned to you, inhaling as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips soft as they brushed against your skin. You blushed, staring at him with wide eyes as he spoke.

“I’m the one who’s going to be making the sacrifices here, alright? I’m older than you, remember? I call the shots.” He chuckled, booping your nose. 

“I love you so much, star.”

You cringed at the nickname, shoving him away. “Stop calling me that, you sound like a character in one of Mr Yang’s cheesy novels.”

He smirked at that. “I’ll never stop calling you that. You’re my star, cause you light up my world and guide me when everything’s dark.” He reasoned, laughing and throwing his head back as he watched you wrinkle your nose in disgust, looking a little like a bunny.

Humming, Minho lay back on the grass, and you followed suit after a minute of hesitation.

“I don’t mind you calling me that. Just don’t do it in front of people.”

“Okay, I won’t. It’s just us all the time, anyway...”

The two of you stared up at the sky, listening to the calm sounds of frogs ribbiting, birds chirping, and the splashing sounds of the fish in the lake. Above it all though, was the sound of your heart, beating persistently as Minho’s fingers creeped closer to yours, intertwining your hands.

“It’s always us...”

***

Your father had explained to you that since your family consisted entirely of ember elementals, your dragon would be of the same kind as well. This went against what Minho had told you before, and your mind was swimming with all the different information you were receiving.

“But...Minho said it doesn’t work that way.”

He sat on his armchair, chewing on  a chicken leg as he raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, he’s wrong.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s never happened in centuries, and it’s not gonna happen now. You’re an Ember, through and through.”

You purse your lips. “Well, you’re always right, Father.”

He nodded, not picking up on the snark your sentence was dripping with. "The bond you share with your dragon is one that can never be replicated. You choose it, and it chooses you. It is truly a beautiful process, a spectacle to behold. Every single villager will be watching, so you better hold your head high. Make me proud."

You were about to reply when you heard a knock on your door. Glancing at your father for permission, you stood up. heading through the long hallway to open the front door.

“Minho?”

You looked at him, tilting your head at his troubled expression. “What’s up?

“I came to give you these.” He said softly, looking around before showing you the fiery petals in his palms. “I borrowed a herbology book from the library a few months ago, and learnt how to grow these. Ignis flowers. They’re symbols of good luck, apparently.”

He took your hand, placing the petals on your palm. “They reminded me of you.”

Your eyes widened slowly. “Wow...Minho, I didn’t get you anything...” You said guiltily, humming when Minho gently pulled you into a hug.

“You don’t have to. I’ve got to go home, now. See you tomorrow!”

You nodded, the petals safe in your hands as he left hurriedly. You watched him head to his house, opposite to yours.

After he left, you were about to head to bed when your father asked you to stay back. Confused, you went over to sit in front of him, tilting your head in confusion.

“Who was at the door?”

“It was just Minho.” You shrugged, eyeing your father as he groaned, massaging his forehead. He looked like he was contemplating something, his wrinkles seeming especially prominent.

"Child, be wary of your...friend."

"Friend...?" You knew he meant Minho. You'd never heard him address him in that manner though - void of affection.

Minho's father and yours were co-chiefs of the village, best friends since birth. He’d always treated Minho like his own son. What had brought on this sudden hostility?

He noticed the expression on your face, sighing and patting your shoulder. "I'm just asking you to be careful, dear. There is talk of the Aer elementals gaining power at an accelerated rate these days. Aer dragons are growing up to be stronger, even more so than our Ember ones. It's truly a strange phenomenon. I do not want to be one of these people who is suspicious of everything and everyone...but both the kid and his father have changed. Even I can't deny that."

You swallowed at his words, watching as his face drifted off, deep in thought. You'd heard of it too- hushed whispers claiming that a single chief would be preferable for the village. And if your father's hunch was right...no, you didn't want to think about it.

Minho wouldn't ever betray you. You'd known him since before you could talk. you’d build up a lot of trust in each other over the years. There was no one else you knew as well. If you couldn’t trust him, who could?

No. He would never hurt you. You were sure of it.

***

The whole village was buzzing for weeks after the ceremony took place. They simply couldn't understand what had happened. It was unprecedented- and the news spread like wildfire.

You were matched with a majestic Aer creature, and Minho a beautiful crimson beast of Ember. Mistakes weren't possible- the process was never questioned- but that didn't mean people weren't bewildered.

For centuries, no one had managed to match with a dragon that controlled an element that differed from theirs.

Neither of you could understand why your fathers and the villagers were so perplexed, though. Was it really as big of a deal as they made it seem?

"I don't get it. Why is it such a humongous problem? They’re just dragons. What’s the need for all this drama?" Minho rolled his eyes as he spoke.

You stroked your dragon's neck slowly as you watched him, huffing and ranting away. ‘Just dragons.’ There was a part of you that understood all the hubbub. The people loved gossip- especially if it involved the chiefs.

"It really isn't. They're both so beautiful, I don't really care what element they control."

You looked at your dragon, curled next to you. You wouldn't admit it, but she looked a little too beautiful- almost to the point where it intimidated you.

Translucent, white scales that reflected rainbows of light...long, beautiful almond shaped eyes that were the color of the ocean. She was larger and brighter than Minho's dragon as well. Your father had been right...the Aer dragons were evolving quicker, somehow.

She was quiet and regal, her sleek body elegant and her demeanor refined. You didn’t really have much in common, to be honest. You’d named her Caeli- a name that wasn’t really all that creative, but it would do. Besides, it seemed to fit.

Minho looked at you, sighing slowly. "Aeracus seems hungry. Father will be expecting me soon anyway, I think I'll go home now, Y/n."

"Bye, Min."

He shot you a dashing grin before standing up, climbing his dragon.

As they left, a great whoosh of wind rustling your hair, you looked up at your dragon. She was staring at the water, her eyes narrowed.

You were starting to feel a little worried. You couldn’t exactly...hear her thoughts. She seemed too closed off, barely even looking at you as she blankly watched the frogs jump from one lilypad to the other. You didn’t feel that special bond everyone had been talking about for years, insisting to you that it would be a connection so profound you wouldn’t be able to live without it.

Did she not like you? You looked so average next to her ethereality, drab and plain as opposed to her stunning beauty.

You couldn’t blame her, really.

***

When Minho stood next to your dragon, the sight somehow made more sense. He was  beautiful, and so was the creature next to him. They fit together perfectly.

Aeracus on the other hand, was slightly more average. He was majestic as well, but not on the same level as Caeli. You felt more at home riding him, somehow. Like...he was the one that was meant to be yours.

Of course, you wouldn’t ever tell anyone about this. It could be considered infidelity, even. Your father was disappointed enough in you as it was. Four years of training with Caeli, and you still weren’t able to channel her power into...anything. She just wouldn’t co-operate.

"There you go..." He finished slipping the harness onto Caeli, dusting off his hands as he came back over to you, giggling as Aeracus rubbed his big head against your side.

Minho raised his eyebrows at the display of affection. Aeracus was never that amicable to him. Yes, he listened to him...but that was about it. And yet, to you...he always noticed how the two of you seemed to have some sort of connection. He’d mentioned this to his father once, only to be called ridiculous.

Then again, he couldn’t blame the dragon for having a soft spot for you. Who wouldn’t?

“Hey...” He looked down at you as the dragon pulled away, ambling off to Caeli’s side. You glanced up slowly when Minho cleared his throat, leaning in a little as his fingers ran through your tresses. Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening slightly at his touch.

"A leaf. In your hair." He mumbled, throwing said leaf onto the ground as he stared into your eyes.

Your heart was thudding loudly in your chest as your gaze ran over his features, so close to your face. Fuck, he was so deathly handsome, even more so now that you were both almost adults. Puberty had treated him well.

A little too well.

The girls in the square swooning over Minho became a regular occurrence now. You couldn't even seem to go anywhere with your best friend, without having a mob of fangirls following closely.

When he was this close to you, it became overwhelmingly evident why his fans were so enamored by him. Lee Minho really was beautiful.

"Careful, a fly might make its nest in your mouth." He chuckled. "What's up, kitten? You look on edge."

That was the other thing. His latest habit of calling you pet names- the likes of which included princess and kitten- had come out of nowhere. He really seemed to enjoy making you blush. At times like this, you wished he would have just stuck with ‘star’.

“Nothing.” You stuttered, avoiding his eyes and choosing to focus your stare on the ground. Minho wasn’t in the mood for your shyness, though. He placed his finger under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You sure about that? Is there a reason you look so flustered right now?” He breathed, leaning in closer until your noses were brushing.

Oh, fuck you, Lee.

You'd always thought Minho was attractive. Of course. You'd be blind not to notice. And yet, at this proximity, you felt like you haven’t ever truly appreciated just how fucking hot the man in front of you was.

And so you did something you never thought you’d have the courage to do.

Leaning in, you closed the distance between the two of you, lips crashing against his. To Minho’s credit, he wasn’t all that shocked. Smirking against you, his arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you closer, gluing your body to his.

Backing you up against a tree, Minho was quick to lift your thigh, slotting your hips together as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip.

A groan left you as he slid his hand under your shirt, pulling away to stare at you, the sight of your swollen lips affecting him in ways he couldn’t quite describe.

“What...what did we just-”

He shut you up with another kiss, rougher than the last one. Breathless pecks, desperately claiming you with his lips as he pressed himself against you.

“Just go with the flow, baby.”

And so you did.

***

As you carefully made your way down, your mind was racing with a million thoughts. The thought of seeing your boyfriend again after so many years scared you as much as it excited you. After all...it wasn’t like you parted on good terms.

You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the last time you saw him. You couldn’t tell him that you’d tried everything, tried your best to reason with your father who simply refused to budge. He’d expected you to do something more...but what?

It wasn’t his fault. It was a fucking accident, and yet he’d had to take the blame.

Deep down, though, you knew what your father’s real intentions had been when he banished Minho and his father from the village. Of course, Caeli’s death had shaken him- the entire village had been in a state of shock. The death of a dragon was the most tragic event that could possibly befall a village. And when said dragon happened to belong to the chief’s daughter? Shattering.

At the end of the day though, it was a convenient incident...one that happened to take place just as your father’s status was being questioned. A blessing in disguise, for him.

“It’s okay, my child. Yes, you suffered a great loss, but I know you weren’t that close to it. We must move on. On the bright side, you can focus on your studies now! Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted to do?”

You scoffed, his words repeating themselves in your brain. Bullshit. There was no bright side, nor would there ever be one without Minho in your life.

***

“There you are. Where were you?"

"I...was with Aeracus." You didn't see the point in lying. Your brain was too tired to come up with a believable fabrication anyway.

As expected, his face screwed up in anger as he glared, standing up.

"Why?" He hissed. "Let me remind you he is not your dragon. How many times have I told you not to get too close to it?"

"Aeracus and I have a bond." You mumbled.

"No. You don't. A bond is forged between a dragon and its owner by forces beyond our control. This measly 'friendship', if you can even call it that, is trivial. At the end of the day, it doesn't really belong to you. It belongs to the boy who betrayed you."

You couldn't bring yourself to react any more. Your father was old-fashioned, his opinions set in stone. ‘Betrayed’. You wanted to scoff.

You turned around without a word, heading for your room. There was no energy left in your body, yet the exhaustion was overpowered by your emotions.

"Y/n, wait."

You stopped, turning and looking at him. "What?"

"Your maids are waiting to dress you. Don't argue with them. You are to wear the outfit I picked out for you. Today's dinner is extremely important." He paused. "And...what I said before still stands. The dragon won't hesitate to betray you, especially now that his true owner is coming back. Be...be careful." Your father said quietly, his face softening.

You sighed. "I will be."

"Good."

He dismissed you. You heaved a sigh of relief under your breath and headed out, opening the door to your own room.

You would never admit this to your father, but as nervous as you were, you were secretly looking forward to the dinner. To see him again.

If you closed your eyes and immersed yourself deep enough into your imagination, you could still feel his touch ghosting along your thighs. His soft lips, pressing against yours.

You missed his voice, his tight hugs...you missed everything about him. You'd only ever felt safe in his arms.

The loneliness and pain had consumed you when he left. Maybe that's why you latched on to Aeracus, the last remnant of Minho in this village that seemed so much more dreary without his presence.

"Miss Y/n! We have no time to lose." Your head maid scurried about your room with two others, spreading out your dress on your bed. One of the maids- Sylvia, you think her name was- snuck up behind you and began undressing you. Yes, you were used to this, but the layer of urgency in the atmosphere was a lot more profound tonight.

The entire village was on edge, and you couldn’t really blame them. The first Elemental Championships, and they were being hosted at your village. The exhilaration was understandable...you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way, though. Maybe if you were actually participating, you’d feel different.

You looked at the dress the maid was holding onto, initially without much interest...but your eyes widened when it came into view.

It was beautiful, yet simple...the color of spun gold, with tiny rubies clustered at the bodice. The sleeves fell of the shoulders delicately, and the material was diaphanous, the texture rich.

“Wow....Sylvia, you made this?”

“I did. It took me a year.” She smiled widely, your grin satisfying her. “Do you really like it, Miss Y/n?” There was a hopeful lilt to her voice, and your grin grew wider as they started helping you into it.

“Like it? I love it! You’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

She nodded in content, lacing up the back as the other maids began on your makeup. Usually, you didn’t like being treated as a doll, your servants fussing over you and your appearance. Today, though...

You could barely believe the reflection you were seeing in the mirror belonged to you. You'd never felt so glamorous before. 

“You look beautiful, Miss.” Sylvia said softly, adjusting your sleeves.

You couldn’t wait for Minho to see you in this dress.

“Ann?” Another servant’s head appeared around the corner. “It’s time. They will arrive any moment now.”

A flurry of anxious noises and exclamations filled the room as they worked on you faster. You took a deep breath in, your mind blank and full of thoughts at the same time.

***

You stood next to your father, hands clasped in front of you. Surreptitiously, you raised your hand to your forehead, wiping away a few drops of perspiration. It was happening, you were finally going to see Minho again. And if your father successfully manages to make amends with his- fuck, you were grinning just thinking about it. 

The villagers standing behind you were all dressed in their best as well, and the lanterns shone brightly, washing over everything. The air was sparkling, the atmosphere charged with electricity. Everyone had their eyes trained on the sky, waiting for Minho’s people. The two other villages were to come tomorrow, according to the letters.

Four villages. All competing in the championship yours was hosting. It was nerve-wracking, the amount of people who would be crammed into your village, which was big enough, really- possibly the largest in the country- it still stressed you out, though. Since there weren’t enough guest houses to fit everyone, a lot of the visitors would be staying with your villagers, the chiefs and their families staying at your house. You were keenly aware of the fact that this meant Minho would be in the same living quarters as you. Your heart pounded at the prospect.

Later in the night, you were planning to sneak into his room, since you obviously wouldn’t be allowed to talk to him during the dinner. At least, you wouldn’t be able to communicate the things you so desperately wanted to say to him. Every part of you tingled as you thought about what you’d say to him. 

You felt light as a feather as you stared at the starry sky, eyes widening slightly as you spotted the thousands of dots in the distance, flying closer. Anticipation and exhilaration mingled in you as you waited for them to arrive. Just the thought of feeling Minho pressed up against you again, whispering in your ear how much he loved you...it made you want to cry, almost. You’d waited for this moment for too long.

The conch shell was blown as they reached the edge of the forest. More than a thousand dragons, covered in finery, just like their riders.

Hmm. There were a lot more than you expected. You’d only been anticipating about a hundred, since it was only Minho’s village that was coming tonight. Or so you’d thought...

You turned your head to look at your father, letting the confusion show on your face. Noticing your expression, he shrugged. “It looks like all three decided to come tonight.”

You frowned, looking back at the dragons that were at the border now, preparing for landing. That was weird.

You observed the dragons that had landed, your eyebrows furrowing. Huh.

The three dragons at the front were a lot bulkier than the ones in the back. Darker colors, almost hulking muscles and narrow eyes. They looked like no dragon you’d ever seen before. The sight was almost unsettling. You felt a faint sense of dread spreading over you, a feeling you tried to push away as your eyes searched each dragon’s back for Minho.

You recognized Minho’s father right away. He was at the very front, along with two other old men on a green and blue dragon respectively, that you realized were the chiefs of the other two villages. Surprisingly though, Minho wasn’t sat behind him. You’d assumed it to be that way...after all, Minho’s dragon was still here. So where was he? Your eyebrows furrowed, not wanting to assume the worst right away. You wildly looked over them all, craning your neck slightly. You didn’t want to seem too eager, but it’s not like you could help yourself. Could anyone blame you? Here you were, about to meet the first and only person you’d ever fallen in love with, after years of yearning and loneliness.

As your father stepped forward, a smile on his face to greet the chiefs, you finally saw him.

For a minute, it was like you couldn’t breathe. He looked as beautiful as ever, his feline eyes twinkling, his dark hair exposing part of his smooth forehead. His hands gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles were white, and the way he sat on his dragon was regal, his expression confident and filled with determination. He was older, and somehow even more handsome than the last time you saw him. You didn’t even think that was possible.

You swallowed, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes finally met yours.

It was like time had ceased for a minute. You smiled slowly, happy tears pricking at your eyes as you took in his face.

He didn’t smile back.

And that’s when you noticed the pale arms wrapped around his waist. Confused, you watched as the chiefs dismounted the dragons, along with their heirs. Minho alighted from the dragon, helping down the woman who had been holding onto him. He held her hands gently, leaning in to press a kiss to her forehead.

You felt like your whole world had collapsed, bile rising in your throat as you watched her giggle. You noticed she was dressed in blue, her clothing that of a heiress. As they approached, your eyes fell on the sparkling ring on her finger...one that matched Minho’s.

When his eyes looked into yours again, they were cold, just like your heart.

[softykooky]

Sanctuary: Three

summary: there is no longer a light at the end of the tunnel, you think. only people who haven’t been hurt can afford such a luxury as wishful thinking. but have you turned away before seeing that there is a glimmer. A teeny tiny, minuscule speck of light. 5.6k words. 

genre: mafia au, angst, eventual ot7 x reader

warnings: physical/verbal abuse (not from the members), dysfunctional and toxic family dynamics, violence, just big sadness

author’s note: here it is!! thank you for all your kind words, again. it never goes unappreciated. apologies for all the plot holes :( i would definitely consider rewriting this in the future to fix that. on a more important note, please continue supporting the BLM movement by anything that you can do. whether it is donations, protesting, streaming videos, or educating others, no good deed is gone wasted. 

one, two

        In the brief time you’ve spent at their mansion, you’ve come to remember a few things. Taehyung snores. Loud and unapologetically so. Jungkook mumbles random words in his sleep, sometimes about cookies and other times about which kind of handgun has the least kickback. Jimin dyes his hair way too often. Yoongi spends too much time online shopping on the internet. Jin detests peanuts but loves peanut butter. Hoseok does not like you. Namjoon is secretly a big softie. In another timeline or life, you’d like to think you guys would be really close friends.

       “Namjoon, please,” the desperation melted off your every word as the guard pulled you through the house by your arm. He only stared back at you quizzically. 

       “Since you’ve been here, you’ve refused to tell us why it is that you ran away. Seems to me like even with all this time, you haven’t been able to come up with a solid excuse for your hissy fit.” 

You wanted to collapse.

       “Your father offered us his services and cooperation in exchange for your return.” Hoseok sounded from beside Namjoon. That’s all you were ever good for anyway. A trading pawn. A stepping stone. You scoffed.

       “You wouldn’t believe me now if I told you the truth, would you? Now that you’ve gotten your prize?” Your voice dripped in hurt and frustration.

       “I’m glad I could be of service.” You watched in satisfaction as Hoseok’s smirk slowly straightened into a calculating gaze, not looking back as you walked away.

       You allowed the guards to walk you up the stairs. Jungkook made his presence known from the top, boring into your eyes with the sheer intensity of a man scorned.

       “Jungkook I-” 

       “Save it, your highness.” You recoiled at the poison of his words. You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that this whole time, while you were thinking Jungkook was your friend he just saw you as his prisoner. If he noticed the tears that welled in your eyes, he did not let it affect the stone cold expression meant for you. Yoongi pretended to look past you as if you were not there. Like you were not living and breathing in front of his eyes. The rest of them watched from a distance, smugly relishing in the fact that their assumptions have been confirmed, yet melancholy to see you go. You could only swallow down the lump that had risen in your throat, trying not to throw up as the guards led you out to a black SUV. 

       You didn’t allow yourself to look back. Or to cry. To feel anything that was not utter self-hatred for not knowing better and trying to escape when you had the chance. 

       “Goodbye, Y/N. I hope we’ll never have to meet each other again.” Namjoon spoke from behind you. You heaved a long breath.

       “Thank you for everything, Namjoon”, you murmured quietly. His breath caught in his throat as he watched you walk away. You had thanked him. You thanked him for kidnapping you, keeping you hostage, and now returning you back to the family that you had desperately wanted to avoid for unknown reasons. His brows knitted in confusion, eyes still following your silhouette through the window of the car as it drove away. 

       “Jimin”, Namjoon addressed as he walked back into the house and plopped himself down at the dining table all of them had been sitting around. He noticed the way Jungkook’s eyes seemed to stick on the door you had just walked out of, sadness drooping his shoulders. 

       “Were you able to find anything on the ambassador?” 

       Jimin shook his head. “No. Nothing. He’s clean. Nothing more than a few parking tickets. If there was anything though, he probably had it scrubbed from police records.” 

       “Check it again.” 

       Namjoon couldn’t figure it out. The little pit in the bottom of his stomach that kept trying to bring him back to your situation. Like it was telling him that something was wrong. He only sighed, standing up and tucking your manila folder into the filing case. Now just another face among many.

       The security guard had been glancing at you a few times too many from the rear view window now, as he drove you to your imminent doom. You didn’t know why you couldn’t not be spineless for once in your life. You didn’t know why you just let these things happen to you, but the fight you used to have has disappeared a long time ago. 

       “Ms. Yoo. Your father is on the line for you.” Your knees began to shake at the mention of your father. You hesitantly took the phone out of the agent’s hand, taking a minute to breathe before holding it up to your ear. You didn’t say a word, but you knew he knew you were listening.

       “Y/N. How lovely it is to talk to you again, my daughter.” His voice made you want to vomit over the leather cushions of the SUV. You kept silent, only heavily breathing into the microphone.

       “We’ve missed you terribly. Especially Soyeon.” Your sister. 

       “Dad...please. Don’t do anything to her.” You tried to steel your voice in the presence of your father, but the quiver was impossible to not notice. 

       “I would never Y/N. I would never make her pay the price for your insolence.” He sneered into the microphone, tone still dangerously calm and subdued. Deep down, you knew that the most your father had ever done to Soyeon was some strict discipline and a few harsh words. Most of the time, he ignored her. It seemed like he only had resentment for you. His firstborn and heir. 

       “Well, we’ll talk more when you get home, Y/N. Maybe you can tell me about everything you’ve been up to.” You internally winced as he emphasized the word “talk”. Both of you knew what that meant and you could practically feel the sole of his dress shoes already digging into the plane of your stomach. He hung up without another word. You stared out the window as the car drove over a bridge, wondering what it would be like if you ever had the courage to tell the world. About your life. Your father. Everything. Would they believe you? Or would they trust the word of a rich and powerful man like your father, as the boys had done? Your heart twinged at the remembrance of the men you had gotten to know for that short period of time. You wondered if they would ever think about you in the future, even if they all thought you were a brat with no good intentions. Perhaps Namjoon was right. Perhaps it would be better if you all never met again. 

       “We’ve arrived.” Your heart dropped to your stomach at his words. He escorted you out of the car. More gently than Yoongi had the first night you met them all, and you remembered the loyalty these men had to your father. You would never be able to run now, even if you tried. You were led up to a familiar cobblestone walkway. In through familiar Venetian double doors your mother had insisted were necessary. Familiar marbled tiles under your shoes. Familiar baccarat crystal chandelier strung over the foyer that cast the room in a light that was too harsh for your liking. And the familiar face of your father staring back at you, lips curved in a gentle smile that you knew held more darkness than he would ever show. 

       “My darling!” He embraced you in his arms as your tears disobeyed your will and trailed down the curve of your cheek. You fisted your hands at your sides. 

       “I’ve been so worried about you”, he whispered into your ear, breath fanning against the side of your neck. How a cold breath could come from a person, you did not know. But it was becoming increasingly clear to you that your father was losing his sense of humanity in front of your eyes. That he was no longer the man you once knew and loved. 

       He waved away the last of the security guards out of the house, still trapping you in his hold. Like a conniving snake to an innocent mouse. You found yourself regretting every decision you had made prior to this. Maybe if you had told Namjoon the truth, you wouldn’t be standing here, a mere weak princess in front of a fire-breathing dragon. Maybe if you told Jimin that your father had caused those ugly scars on your back. The front door closed with a gentle click, and the doting facade your father had masked on morphed into the expression of repugnance you knew all too well.

       You heard the slap before you felt it. The discordant clash of skin on skin that rung through the space of the foyer. Your mother did always say the house had great acoustics. The force knocked you into the ground, hands coming out to soften the fall as your body crumpled against the cool marble. It hurt. Like always. A familiar pain that reminded you only of all the things you had ever done wrong. All the flaws that your father drilled into your head until you could not remember anything that was good about yourself. 

       “Do you know how difficult it’s been for me to keep the press at bay?” He spoke darkly, eyes raking over your figure in satisfaction as you laid still on the floor. 

       “Do you know how much money I’ve spent to shut down the rumors that you had run away?” He knelt down to you, emphasizing each word as you tried to look anywhere but at him. Tried to focus on anything but the pain on your skin and in your heart. 

       Don’t speak, Y/N, he’ll only hurt you more. 

       “Fucking useless, you know that Y/N?” He laughed humorlessly. You could hear the click of his shoes as he circled around you, like a predator to its prey. A father to his daughter. You hoped to god they were not steel-toed. He reached down and clumped a fist into your hair, forcing you upright as you shrieked at the pain in your scalp, every cell in your body urging you to fight back when you knew that would never end well for you. He slapped you again, this time forcing you to stay sitting as the momentum whipped your head to the side.

       “Sometimes I wish you never fucking existed.” 

       Over the years, you have learned to build resistance to the physical pain. You learned how to get bloodstains out of your clothes. How to double wrap an ice pack so that it doesn’t melt so easily against your body heat. How to not feel your conscious when your father took his anger out on you. But you had never quite gotten the hang of not letting each word bite you to your core until you believed what he said to be the truth. You never learned to push away the pain each remark and insult would ignite in the back of your chest. 

       Yeah, me too. 

       You laid there as his fists pelted down on you relentlessly, like cold rain to a cement sidewalk. You shrieked each time his foot made contact with your stomach. You could feel the blood dripping down your nose, your forehead, your arms, your cheeks. Your father was a fan of accessorizing after all, the rings on his fingers was testament. You absorbed every affront and denigration he shot at you, like a sponge to water, staring ahead into space and wondering if there was such a thing as feeling so much pain that one becomes numb. 

       “Stop! you’re going to kill her.” Your eyes had been closed but you could recognize that voice from a mile away. Soyeon. Most of the time, she had just ignored the things your father did to you in fear of the same treatment. But she was here. The dark presence of your father disappeared overhead, and exhaustion and pain finally seeped into your bones. He was not hurting you anymore. You can let yourself succumb to sleep now. 

       There was one thing you were glad for though. 

       His shoes weren’t steel-toed after all. 

       You woke up with a gasp underneath a familiar ceiling of a room that you knew all too well. The numbing you had forced yourself to go under earlier had clearly worn off, and you could practically feel every bruise and wound as if they were being created then and there. The door opened slowly to reveal Soyeon wielding a glass of water. She froze in her step.

       “Hi Soyeon-ie”, you smiled, trying not to grimace at the pain of stretching your face muscles. Imagine your surprise when Soyeon’s expression twisted in anger.

       “How could you run away. Do you know how much I had to deal with Dad getting angry while you were gone?” 

       Soyeon’s own selfishness stunned you into silence. You knew he would never hurt her, it always had been just you. She was blaming you for trying to get away from him. 

       “You know why I ran away.” You casted your eyes elsewhere, too hurt and betrayed to even look at your own sister. It was selfish of you to leave her behind, yes. You wanted to take her with you, but you knew she was safe there. You knew she would have been fine. 

       “You left me Y/N. I didn’t know if you’d come back or if I’d ever see you again.” She set the glass of water down on your nightstand, sitting at the foot of your bed. You wanted to stay angry at her. At her consideration for only herself and how she suddenly seemed to forget all the hurt that your father puts you through. But you had gotten so used to apologizing for mistakes you never made. Blaming yourself for things you could not control. 

       “I’m sorry, Soyeon”, you whispered in the quiet of the room. 

       “But I’m here now. And it looks like I won’t be leaving in the near future.” Your words were masked in sadness. You had been so close to freedom, you could almost taste it. But you should’ve known that no matter where you go, your father always had a chain tied around your ankle, yanking you back to this life. Soyeon’s face lit up at your statement.

       “Good! Well, mom’s in the Bahamas currently with some friends. Maybe I’ll take you shopping tomorrow? A new store just opened in Myeongdong!” 

       You gave her a smile. One that didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn’t like Soyeon would notice. This was how it always went. She would block it out of her consciousness, pretending that your family was perfect and that nothing ever went wrong. She would pretend like you never got hurt, and moved on to the next topic. You always complied because Soyeon seemed happy. And that’s all you’ve ever wanted for her. 

       “Yeah. Sounds great, Soyeon-ie.” You had never wanted to disappear more in your entire life. 

       “Fantastic! Well, I’ll let you get some rest. Maybe later you can tell me about where you’ve been all this time.” She spoke cheerfully, smile falling slightly as the collar of your shirt drooped and revealed a blackening bruise on your decollete. Soyeon reached over and pulled it up, smiling once again now that it was out of sight, and out of mind. Not for you, though. You could still feel it. Then she left, closing the door gently behind her and leaving a broken you, holding the pieces of yourself together in a home you so badly wanted to get away from. 

        You won’t tell her about them, you think. You won’t tell her about Jungkook’s poetry book, Jimin’s care about your scars or Taehyung’s video games that you could hear across the thick wall. You won’t tell her about how Namjoon likes to pretend he’s got it all together but at heart, he seems like just another boy. You won’t tell her about Yoongi’s walks or Jin’s breakfast foods or how Hoseok folds your clothes neatly when he drops them off. And you definitely will not admit to yourself that you miss the people that captured you and sent you back here. You were their prisoner. Nothing more, and nothing less. 

       Jimin hasn’t slept in 48 hours. 

       For the first 24, it was because Namjoon assigned him to take care of all their new recruits, and he spent the day with a permanent frown etched on his face because most of them didn’t know how to hold a gun correctly. For the next 24, though, he’s been thinking about you. Jimin had grown used to your presence in the house, they all have. Though you were strangers, it seemed your souls naturally gravitated towards one another. Like magnets that were too timid to approach, too timid to open the bedroom door. More importantly, he’s been thinking about your father, and why you were just so dead set on running away. 

       He whips out from under his bed sheets, pushing away the headache and willing his eyelids to just remain open for a little longer. There must be something he’s missing about your family. Something small, or anything at all. But as ambassador, his records are sparkling clean, no trace of foul play or any significant offense at all. Even the tabloids could not dig anything up on the man. He seemed to be invincible. 

       He walks briskly to Taehyung’s office, where the man himself is planted in a spinny chair, pretending to do work and playing Pubg on his wall of monitors. Jimin coughs with amusement, causing Taehyung to almost jump out of his skin.

       “You scared the shit out of me, you dummy.” He gasps dramatically, hand held to his chest as he exasperatedly stares at Jimin. 

       “Is that how you talk to your hyung?” Jimin slaps him upside the head.

       “Anyway, I’ve got a favor to ask you. Can you try scrubbing the ambassador’s files again? Something just doesn’t feel right with me.” Taehyung groans at Jimin’s request, dejectedly turning off his game. 

       “I’ve gone through his profile so many times. There’s nothing, hyung. Not even a speck. I liked Y/N too, and I thought she was better than that but maybe we just gave her too much credit.” Taehyung did enjoy her presence. He always turned his game volume up a little too loud to hear an annoyed groan coming from the room next to him, just to know that she was there. She had always been kind, but after everything, Y/N was a different person than he thought. 

       “Just one more time, Tae? There has to be something”, Jimin pleads. “And besides, if you have time to play your video games you have time to do this.”

       “Yeah, yeah, whatever I’ll do it. Just get some sleep, you look like death.” Taehyung hums, putting his headset back on and turning to his multiple computers. Jimin sighs contently, yet still dissatisfied, feeling like he’s missing a piece of a puzzle he so desperately wants to solve. He pats Taehyung on the shoulders before turning around and leaving for his room. That night, Jimin is able to lie down in a comfortable bed. Stare at the ceiling he sees every time before he goes to sleep. He plugs in his phone and cozies up with a pillow, like he does every night. But this night, he drifts with the thought of you behind his eyelids. 

       Taehyung has no idea why Jimin has made him go over records of the ambassador so many times. Sure, the ambassador wasn’t someone he was overly fond of, he had made business for them difficult in the past with his high government position. But it seemed like Jimin wanted to find something incriminating, like he had a hunch there was something there. So he sifts through the press pictures. Sifts over the embassy camera feed. Sifts over his text messages, and bank statements, and even his restaurant ord-

       Wait.

       His bank statements. 

       There’s something there that Taehyung hadn’t seen before. It’s so small, he must’ve missed it in passing but it’s a breadcrumb. There’s a bill that had been paid through an offshore bank account, so that any normal audit would not be able to trace it back to the ambassador. Luckily for Taehyung, he’s the most brilliant hacker in the eastern hemisphere...or so he likes to believe. The bill is withdrawing a couple thousand dollars, but doesn’t state who the recipient is to. In a minute or two and obnoxious keyboard clicks, Taehyung finds that the ambassador has wire transferred nearly $10,000 to a hospital in the Seoul area. 

       Damn. Just hospital bills. Albeit offensively high hospital bills. Taehyung leans back in his seat in defeat, nearly doubling over as he realizes the time. He curses himself when he hears birds chirping outside, already hearing Hoseok’s nagging voice for not getting enough sleep. He hauls himself to the couch in his office and sleeps the night away, records of the ambassador forgotten on his computer screen.

       “Tae, get your ass up, it’s 3 in the afternoon”, Jungkook nudges Taehyung awake, almost consorting to kneeing him the balls since he refuses to even open an eye. He groans before finally agreeing to sit up. Taehyung finds himself in his office, Jungkook annoyedly sitting beside him with Jimin and Jin sitting in the meeting space outside. 

       “Have you found anything?” Jimin sounds from his seat around the briefing table. 

       “No, I haven’t. Like the last 5 times you asked me to do it.” Taehyung pauses in his half-asleep words, sitting up and eyes shooting wide.

       “Although there was something weird I hadn’t noticed before.” He leaves his office and sits at the table alongside Jin and Jimin.

       “There was a hospital bill for 10k. Wired through an offshore account, probably a Cayman or a Swiss. It didn’t show up on his public statements. It looked like he wanted to hide it.” Thinking back to it now, Taehyung looks like an idiot for not pursuing this breadcrumb trail and choosing to sleep instead. Jimin continues looking at him expectantly.

       “That was all, though. I traced it back to the recipient and it was the Asan Medical Center”, Taehyung trails off, mind still knitted in confusion as to what this could be leading to. Jungkook makes his appearance from the other room. 

       “What if it’s not the ambassador’s records we should be diving deeper into?” Jungkook says quietly in the tense atmosphere of the meeting room.

       “What if it’s Y/N’s?” A daunting realization settles upon the four boys. If this breadcrumb trail leads to what they suspect it does, then they may have just made the biggest mistake of their career. Staring at each other in the basement of their headquarters marks the first time the boys hoped to god that their hunch was going to be wrong. 

       “NAMJOON!” Jimin bellows as he nearly sprints from the basement to the upper level to Namjoon’s office. The leader could hear the boy even from down the hall, his clumbering footsteps reminding Namjoon how much he paid for that expensive hardwood flooring. The door swings open to reveal a panting Jimin, clutching a familiar manila folder in his hand. He slams the folder onto his desk. 

       “Y/N’s folder is here because…..why?” 

       “We’ve been trying to dig up dirt in the wrong place. Our initial run-through of her profile hadn’t even revealed this. This was covered up with all kinds of firewalls.” Jimin’s hands are shaking at their newfound information. Namjoon seems to be in a permanent state of confusion, staring at Jimin as if he had grown two heads and a tail and is now speaking to him in another language. 

       “Slow down, Jimin-ah. Take it from the beginning.” Namjoon stops his incessant rambling and muttering. 

       “Okay, okay. So you told me to take another check through the ambassador’s profile right? So naturally, I passed the workload to Taehyung.” Namjoon snorts at his confession, far versed in the boys’ habits to know that Jimin always made Taehyung do tasks he did not have energy for.

       “We must have missed it all the times before. Our dear friend the ambassador made a transaction through an offshore Cayman account, wire transferring $10,000 to Asan Medical Center in the Seoul area.” 

       Namjoon sits up straighter in his seat and leans over the table, eyes locking into Jimin’s with newfound intensity.

       “There’s no reason why he would for himself. We’ve browsed through all of his public appearances over the past year and he shows no sign of any injury or need for hospitalization with that high a bill.” Jimin runs his hands through his hair in frustration. 

       “So Jungkook suggested we dive deeper into Y/N’s profile instead. Maybe we missed something like last time too. So we did, and...” He pauses.

       “What, Jimin? Spit it out.” Namjoon’s patience and anticipation has run thin.

       “In the past years, Y/N’s been hospitalized for a total of 3 times. At Asan Medical Center.” The air in the room seems to drop to sub zero degrees as Namjoon and Jimin work to connect the dots. 

       “Taehyung looked into her hospital records, and it took him more than 10 minutes.” The statement shocks Namjoon, as all of them knew Taehyung could dig up dirt on a person in mere seconds. 

       “On the first visit, Y/N came in unconscious with multiple head and body contusions, fractured ribs, a concussion, and a broken collarbone. She had to get surgery. Jin suspects the records were so buried because someone must have bribed the hospital to keep it hidden. There’s one person involved that has that kind of money and power.” Namjoon’s face pales at the realization. He had a hunch from the beginning, and he knew he should’ve just listened to it. Now he may have just sent you off to your death with you thinking they all hated you. 

       “So what you’re saying is Y/N’s father…” Namjoon can’t bring himself to complete his sentence.

       “What I’m saying is Y/N’s father seems to be deliberately covering up these hospital records unnecessarily well if it were just an accidental injury. There’s no clear link to domestic abuse, but…well, you’ve seen the way she is.” Jimin wants to knock himself upside the head for not seeing the clear signs right in front of his eyes. The way you flinched at every sudden movement. The way you refused to tell them anything about why you ran away. Maybe this whole time, you had been trying to protect your bastard father for god knows what reason. The two breathe in the silence of Namjoon’s office as the leader thinks it over, mind muddling with all the new information and trying to find a course of action. 

       “Tell Taehyung to hack into the security cameras of the ambassador’s house in Seongbuk-dong.” 

       For the time being, your father has cut off your access to a cell phone and other communication devices. You were to remain with Soyeon for an indefinite time, and she is your chaperone for any endeavors outside the house. He hadn’t said a word to you since he left you unconscious on the floor not even 10 minutes after you stepped foot into the doorway. That’s how it always was. To your father, you ceased to exist other than when your family makes public appearances or when you mess up and he feels entitled to discipline you. Not that you could leave the house anyway. You could barely walk for extended times without feeling your chest cave in. 

       “Y/N! Mom’s home.” Soyeon cheerfully sounded from the bathroom as she dusted a generous coat of pink blush onto her cheeks. You continued staring at the wall, in the same position you had been in for hours. 

       Your mom has been a side character in your life. She was never in one place for long. Never too affectionate with you, only was there to look pretty and doting to your father, all the while pretending that your family was perfect in every sense. Even before your father changed, she never emphasized her duty as a mother to you. Soyeon helped you wobble to the family living room, where both your parents were situated on the same couch. You avoided your father’s gaze like the plague. 

       “Hi, Mom.” You managed a small smile for her. One that she returned before placing her attention back on her phone. If your mother noticed your injuries and bandages, she did not let it phase her expression for a single millisecond. You sighed quietly to yourself, wondering if things would turn out differently if your mother cared an ounce for you. 

       You spent the rest of the evening at the dinner table. You did your part, pushing around oven-roasted potatoes with your sterling silver fork and pretending that you were a normal family having a normal dinner. Your mother strategically angled the family dinner picture to hide your injuries, posting it onto her social media account with far too many heart emojis. Soyeon chattered away about her new sponsorship deals, the new clothes she bought, the new friends she’s made, and even what she had for breakfast. And your father, well, you were just too scared to even look his way to notice what he was doing. But you reckon he appreciated you keeping your mouth shut at the table. 

       As Soyeon talked on about the Maison Margiela boots she’s been dying to get her hands on, you found your mind drifting to a certain group of people. You wondered if they’ve thought about you since. If they had an ounce of remorse for sending you away, or even a sliver of longing. You wondered if they had enjoyed talking with you as you had with them, or had they let their presumptions completely tarnish your image. Were they eating well? Sleeping enough? 

       You picked at an oily asparagus. Hoping they would miss you was wishful thinking. You couldn’t afford to do that anymore. Last time you did, you got kidnapped by a gang that sent you straight back into the jaws of your father. 

       The boys couldn’t tear their eyes away from the large TV screen in the briefing room, reflecting the footage of the ambassador’s mansion foyer. The room had gone silent. Cold. The kind of cold that hits you in the gut like a sharp icicle. The kind of cold that stokes an icy blue fire. Their hearts sank in their chests.

       There you were. Getting beaten to a pulp by your father in your own home, with no security guards or maids around to see. You pushed back in the beginning, but the boys could almost physically see the fight leave your weak body as your monster of a father unleashed his hatred on you. They all wanted to throw up. Namjoon pushes away the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, turning back to the round table of boys who now had a new flame in their eyes.

       “I-I should have known.” He loses his breath at the words, nearly collapsing into his chair. 

       “I should have known someone like Y/N wouldn’t run away like that. I should’ve known there was a reason she didn’t want to tell us anything.” He buried his face in his hands, kicking himself for letting you go. 

       “So those hospital bills….he covered them up because he caused her injuries.” Jungkook spoke out in the tense silence, not hiding his tear streaked face as his eyes remained glued on the TV screen. He would make himself watch it. For you, and the hurt he’s put you through. 

       “And the scars on her back.” Jimin trails off, fists clenched in anger at the mere thought of your father. 

       It was Hoseok, though, that actually bolted out of the room and heaved the contents of his stomach into a toilet bowl. How would he face you ever again? After all that he’s said and done. After all the assumptions he made about your character without even giving you time to breathe and create a response. Hoseok had just held this animosity against people of your stature. People like your father and your mother who grew up in money, and uses it to remain in power. He, alongside the 6 other boys, had fostered their own success from scraps and dirt. Now you were paying for their mistakes in ways that none of them wanted to even think about. 

       “Namjoon. We have to go save her.” Jin pipes up. They all heard the quiver in his voice and caught sight of the shaking in his hands as he looked towards the leader. 

       No, they wouldn’t just save you. They would get you justice. They would dismantle your father and maybe kill him while they were at it. This would be the price for their mistakes against you. As he looks back at his brothers, figures slumped in regret and shame, he wonders if you’ll be able to forgive them. Despite the short time, they had all bonded with you in some way or other. 

       “Yoongi, could you round up our retrieval team?” Namjoon’s face steels as he faces them, expression almost dead if it weren’t for the complete wrath that burned in his eyes. 

       “I’ve been meaning to visit Seongbuk-dong. I hear it’s lovely this time of year.”

taglist:  @pinkyhim​, @deolly​,  @loveyoongles​​, @drunkzseok​, @hope122598​, @uwunamjoon​, @nomimits7​, @bubblebunnylia​, @aquaalanah , @juliie-ocha , @daydreambrliever​, @btsbabby​​, @rosiethefairy​, @blank-et-noir , @tiredjedi , @myheartstaysinkorea 

[sins-over-tragedy]

Just saw your post and I thought it would be quite fun to see your writing! Can i have Ranpo× S/O who loves to read...? Its ok if you dont want to-

Hey love! Of course I want to. I just wasn‘t sure if you wanted some headcons or a oneshot so I wrote a oneshot. If you meant headcons, feel free to request them again, I‘d love to write them! I tried to make it a little bit fluffy c:

I really gave my best, hope you enjoy it! ❤️

WARNIGS: SHORT MENTION OF NIGHTMARES, ANGST IF YOU SQUINT

Ranpo with a S/O who loves to read

Ranpo Edogawa was by far the greatest Detective in all of Japan. - The whole world even, if you asked him. He was one of the most clever men you‘ll ever meet, solving even the most demanding cases like it was nothing, astonishing both the public and the police in Yokohama with his infamous skills. His coworkers both loved and respected him, like they should, because they received the biggest part of their income from the cases he worked on, not even needing a partner for most of them. His deducting ability was unmatched, one look from his sharp green eyes behind his characteristic glasses was enough to unravel even the deepest and darkest secrets of the person standing in front of him.

Ranpo also couldn’t stand a lot of things. Like, when a new police officer underestimated his deduction skills. I mean, how dare they? Or the one time he ran out of candy. Now, that really was a nightmare. (Not only for him, but also for his colleagues, who had to deal with him on that dreadful day)

Another thing he hated with a burning passion, was having to rely on public transportation. Train schedules? Hell no.

But the one thing that really got on his nerves- that he couldn‘t live with for the love of god - (Or Arahabiki, if you want) is-

„Not now Ranpo, I really want to finish this book.“

Yeah, that.

Having to share your attention. That was just plain awful and cruel towards him. „But Y/N, come ooon, you‘ve already said that the last few times I‘ve asked you!“

Don‘t get him wrong, he loved your (not so) little obsession with books.

You, reading to him at night to calm his nerves, when the thoughts about his past and the death of his parents just got too fucking much and threatened to overwhelm his mind- it never failed to scare away his demons.

What got him even through the shittiest of days was the thought of coming home and cuddling up to you in the living room of your shared apartment, while you would read stories to him, about adventurers seeking long lost treasures; tales about mythical creatures like dragons and elves; Detectives, almost as clever as himself. He didn‘t really care, as long as it was you who read them to him. You could even read a goddamn phonebook to him, and he would still lay there, listening, while your soft voice lulled him to sleep.

It didn‘t matter to you what kind of book you were reading, as long as the writing was good and the story catched your attention. Your reading obsession also has helped you with your work at the agency on more than one occasion, learning different facts and stuff about almost every genre you could get your hands on.

That was just one of the many things he loved about you. You also were clever. Maybe not as clever as him, but while he cracked cases within the bat of an eye, you always came and picked him up at the train station, when he got off on the wrong stop again - Jesus, Ranpo that was the third time this week-

Not even once had you told him that you had no time, or simply didn‘t want to, because he was a grown man and he could- he should be able to come home by himself. You always were there for him, not once asking for something in return.

What he also loved was your shared apartment. It wasn‘t big, or expensive - you both couldn‘t afford that, never even wanted to - but it was enough.

Your whole apartment looked like a small library, shelves filled with books of all shapes and sizes almost reaching up to the ceiling. Plants in every corner, flowers of different colours, or just plain green dragon trees. Ranpo loved it. It was just so cozy, so warm and inviting, it was so you.

But when you‘ve found a book that really caught your attention, there was nothing that could bring you to stop reading it. Not even an angry Kunikida - and that spoke for itself. So when Ranpo saw how engrossed you were in the newest part of your collection, he feared the worst, and his mind quickly began to form a plan on how he could at least catch a bit of your attention. He went into the bedroom, grabbed a thick blanket and some cookies from his secret stash inside the sock drawer (they didn‘t call him greatest detective for nothing) and made his way back to you into the living room. He found you still sitting in the same place, not having moved an inch. Did you even realise he was here before? Ranpo really wasn‘t a fan of having to share your attention.

He also was a little shit. „What are you doing?“ Ranpo looked up from your lap, where he had placed himself and began to get comfortable. „Getting my S/O back.“ You couldn‘t hold back the small smile that stole itself on your lips at your boyfriend's antics. „Oh come on, don‘t be so dramatic!“ „I‘m not dramatic, it‘s true and you know it!“ He shifted again, not having found quite the right place to settle himself yet. You decided to have mercy on him. „Come here you drama baby.“ The book was placed on the coffee table next to you while you slided a bit farther down on the couch and stretched out your legs. That way he could settle himself in between them, comfortably laying his head on your chest. He let out a content sigh. „That‘s much better.“ You only hummed in response and began to comp your fingers through his messy mop of black hair. If he were a cat, he‘d probably purr. „Read to me, Y/N.“ „Always so demanding...“ But how could you deny him something, while he looked so freaking adorable, with his pouting lips and narrowed eyes? His sharp green orbs followed your every move, while you picked up your book again and began to read it to him.

You couldn‘t really tell at what point he had fallen asleep, but when you decided to take a small pause to rest your eyes a bit, the first thing you noticed were the faint snores that left his slightly parted lips. How cute. You couldn't help yourself, so you bent down and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. You closed your book, carefully put it back on the coffee table to not disturb him by moving to much, adjusted the blanket so that both of you were covered by it and decided to join his small nap.

And while you both laid there, wraped up in each others warmth, there was only one thing to describe how you both felt in that moment: absolutly content.

——————————————————————

Why do the characters in my stories always tend to fall asleep at the end? Easy. Bcs sleep is bae.

[seiya234]

the haunting of dipper pines

“At the end of the day, it was as easy as biting into an apple. 

The power lingered in him for only that day.

Henry lingered within him for far, far, far longer than that. 

(a land of deepest shade)

Willow told him once that the mind was like the ocean. 

There was the shore where people ran in and out of the water and onto land again. There were the waters where sunlight infiltrated, the waters where the more recognizable sea creatures lived. Even the twilight zone, where things began to get dark, still would occasionally burp up something recognizable.

Then there was the deep. The black. The vast expanse of the ocean floor where there was still so much unknown. And so much that would never be known. 

“Uh-”

Willow rolled her eyes at him. “So the shore is like, shallow currents. That’s where we dwell most of the time. And then the dark is where things you never think of, or don’t want to think of, or parts of you you don’t acknowledge- that’s where all that lives.”

“Sweetie,” Dipper began. “I... I don’t think that’s how minds work.”

“That’s how mine does.”

“Okay but your experience doesn’t-”

Dipper stopped. Willow’s eyes were cold, far too cold for a sixteen year old.

“Uncle Dipper, it’s a fucking metaphor.”

Willow never swore in front of him. He immediately dropped it. 

The worse of it was, he realized later that she was right. Because in his Shack, there were the places he spent the most time- the living room, the kitchen, the porch and front yard. There were the places he only occasionally went- his bedroom, stan’s office. 

And then there were the dark places. 

The basement. The apple tree.

Where there were gold bricks littered everywhere, lives once lived but forgotten with the weight of who he was now, and the motes of everyone he had ever eaten-

-“Boo,” said a far too familiar red headed face in front of him, before disappearing.-

-but he never had to pay attention to those.

----

(oh you’re going to lose control tonight) 

The first time was right after Ian’s surgery, when he was looking for some nightmares in the fridge, and out of the corner of his eye was a beautiful woman , antlers full of withered fruit and tiny white flowers. But for obvious reasons he had quite a lot on his mind, and it was easy to put down as a figment of his imagination-

-”Does your imagination come to life? Cause like, you live in imagination?” Mabel had asked. “Um. No...Yes... kind of?” Dipper responded. “But if something’s in there, it’s real now, one way or another-

-easily forgotten before going back out into the real world to deal with yet another disaster. 

But then the Flock began to complain about pulling up hanks of red hair amidst the grass. Cleanly cut severed hands and feet began appearing on the roof, out back, and on one memorable occasion in the dishwasher. Flannel shirts would appear on the back of the chairs in the kitchen and just as quickly disappear again. 

Thick rimmed glasses laying on the bathroom sink, that faded away just as Dipper would reach for them.

Late at night, aimlessly changing channels on the tv, watching the dreams of the multitude, and the smell of woodsmoke, slightly musty apples and mustier books, and an undercurrent of blood and sweat, the smell so strong that Dipper whipped around expecting to see Henry standing there right behind him, but he wasn’t he never was never would at least for another few centuries it was Dipper all alone...

Dipper settled back into the couch. He was alone, a part of him would always be alone, and while on any other night that would send him into an angst spiral but tonight it was kind of comforting.

Strong, care worn hands fell upon his shoulders, and Dipper knew without looking that one of the fingers would have a simple silver band with a little chunk of cubic zirconia, that the back of the right hand would have a scar from a cat scratch, that little red hairs poked up from the fingers...

the hands gave Dipper’s shoulders a squeeze and then they weren’t there.

They never were there. 

---

He began to see Henry.

Henry, opening the fridge, and vanishing.

Henry, chopping wood in the yard before vanishing.

Henry, digging under the couch for the remote before, wait for it, vanishing yet fucking again.

The first hundred times, Dipper thought he was imagining things.

The second hundred times, Dipper thought he was about to undergo yet another bad spell- perhaps all these apparitions were harbingers of what was to come? 

By the 347th apparition of Henry, Dipper finally was forced to accept that these... these motes. They were real.

They were Henry.

Or rather, they were parts of him. 

---

(for when you’re gone, i’m a severed soul)

Mabel and Henry’s room, oddly enough, didn’t carry quite the weight that one would imagine that it would. 

Because after that it had been Willow’s room, and then her great-granddaughter, and then Mike's and then...

Point being, so many people had lived in that room, made that the heart of their Shack, that the Mabel and Henry shine had worn off of it for the most part...

Except for the nights when he needed it to be their room. 

The nights when he needed to crawl under one of the many blankets Mabel had created over the years out of her old sweaters, sleep on top of the jersey sheets that Mabel loved but always pulled up and off the mattress, the pancake pillow that Henry slept on and the Pile of memory foam pillows and stuffed animals that Mabel used...

Nights where he would crawl into their bed and remember falling asleep between them, between them with the triplets mixed in there, between them and three to seven grandkids, and Henry’s weird cat that farted all the time, and then just the three of them again, at the end, grey hair and wrinkles and divots in the mattress. 

Nights where he wouldn’t sleep because he couldn’t sleep but he would just set his mind adrift, and do his best to Not Think for awhile. 

And now, nights where he would be in there, and feel the weight of an arm over his chest. Sometimes that arm was wearing an old Oregon State sweatshirt. Sometimes it was bare, showing freckled skin and red hair. And sometimes, some rare times, it was joined by the gentle sound of snoring in his ears, the tickle of hair against his forehead, a foot bumping into his. 

Dipper didn’t turn to see if he was there.

He never was.

-----

For awhile he didn’t acknowledge the motes; because surely they were only unknowing recordings of fleeting moments of time.

But time passed, on and on and on, and the fragments of Henry kept interrupting his solace, so finally Dipper began to talk to them.

They didn’t answer.

He told them about his day.

They didn’t answer.

He broke down in tears in front of them.

They didn’t answer. 

He screamed. 

They didn’t answer.

He raged.

They didn’t answer.

He gave up.

They didn’t answer.

Then one day when he was looking in the mirror, trying to lick some blood off his face, he saw Henry behind him once again.

“Why don’t I see Mabel like I see you?” Dipper asked him, not expecting an answer.

“Because you didn’t chew her soul into a thousand pieces,” Henry answered primly.

Dipper whirled around.

He was gone.

But now Dipper knew they could talk.

---

(from dust and ashes i have called you)

Footsteps upstairs again.

It wasn’t the Flock, Dipper knew that in his bones. He tried to not be a dick about it but... the Shack was his place, his sanctuary. The Flock were welcome to every other part of his mind but here.... here be dragons.

So it wasn’t the Flock. 

The footsteps paused, then turned around and began to walk again. From what it sounded like, they were headed towards the triplets’ old room.

Towards Dipper’s old room. 

He looked up and he could practically see each board of the ceiling ever so lightly wiggle as the steps walked across them. The steps got to the door of the triplets’ room, and then paused.

That pause was familiar; how many times did Henry go up to check on the kids when they were growing up? 

Pause. Then slowly walking back across the floor, headed towards the stairs down.

Dipper tensed on the couch. Would this-

The wood on the stairs began to creak.

Then it faded as it got to the stairs in Dipper’s eyeshot.

Then the footsteps were gone. 

----

After the first time, Dipper began to see Henry in various reflective surfaces. Never for very long, but it was enough to begin a conversation.

“Is it really you?” Dipper asked Henry in his coffee one morning.

“I mean, yes, but I could just as easily still be a figment of your imagination,” Henry replied a few weeks later from the window pane.

“I don’t remember you being this rude when you were alive,” Dipper said primly into his pot of soup. Said rudeness did also put a point into his theory that all of these Henry-visions were hallucinations on his part.

From the blackness of the switched off tv, Henry primly responded, “I apologize for my crankiness, but it’s been a rough century.” 

Dipper couldn’t argue with that.

Time passed.

“I’ve eaten untold numbers of souls,” Dipper said to the Henry who was lurking in the bathroom mirror. “What makes yours different?”

“Because I am special to you,” a Henry sitting on his porch reading a book replied a month later.

“Because you started to pay attention and now you’re looking for me,” another Henry cooking in the kitchen said a year later.

“Because,” and this was Henry’s breath hot in his ear, “Because you are so very lonely.”

----

(so pale so cold so fair)

There were the motes of Henry that were actually awake and aware, that spoke to him, even for the briefest moment. 

But more often, the fragments of Henry’s soul showed up as little repeating events, flashes of the life that Henry lived in the Shack.

So Dipper would go to get something from the vending machine basement door, and look and see Henry assisting an invisible patron, a book in his hand.

Henry, vacuuming a rug and talking in such a way that Dipper knew it was Stan on the other end. 

Henry, running through the living room, chasing three little stars that were long gone by now.

Henry, swinging on the porch swing, holding Mabel’s hand, but he wasn’t holding Mabel’s hand, he was holding fucking air, just like he was nothing but fucking air-

(he took the porch swing down for seventy two years after that, putting it back again when he had finally forgotten why he had taken it down in the first place.)

----

He was trying to figure out which ascot color was better when Henry appeared from behind in the bathroom mirror. 

Dipper didn’t bother to look back, knowing from bitter experience that like Eurydice Henry would only disappear.

“I.. I feel...you got two minutes Dip,” the Henry behind him said. 

Dipper froze. Two minutes. That was nothing. That was forever.

“Uh. How do you feel?”

“Hm. Kind of like the very essence of who I am was broken into literally millions of tiny shards of being, and that I only have the briefest flashes of consciousness before fading away again-”

“Uh.”

“It’s surprisingly hard work coalescing back into a regular soul, did you know that?”

“I mean yes? but-”

The Henry in the mirror was now right behind him, looming over him. His flannel was gone and now he was only wearing a worn black t-shirt, the kind that came in packs in Wal-mart. 

“I’m scattered. I’m missing. I’m missed. And then before that-”

Paloma glared at him in the mirror.

“I was tortured to death and then they took my soul, they broke and twisted me and grew a tree from me and they broke me so how the fuck do you think I’m doing?”

They stared at each other for a second. Then it was just Henry again, and he sighed.

“I’m sorry Dipper. That wasn’t fair. It’s been a long-”

He was gone.

Dipper didn’t see another Henry for five years.

---

(where did you sleep last night?)

He began to remember things that he had long forgotten.

Obviously, he prioritized henry and mabel and stan and kids memories above all else but well, he was old. He had countless friends and family now, lived untold numbers of lives, hadn’t had a second to rest, reset, renew-

So while he remembered quite a lot of that most precious time, he began to remember-

-watching the kids’ play at school and Henry having to sit in the last row because he was so tall....

-hiding behind the couch while some terrible movie Acacia picked was on and Henry, reading and smiling self indulgently...

-dinner at Greasy’s with Henry and that one documentarian, what was his name again? Oh yeah, James! 

-kneeling on the floor, praying loudly because apparently those were the only prayers that counted-

(wait)

-dad’s hand shoving the kitten into the sack, shouting incoherently at him while he cried, knowing what was going to happen next

(wait)

-his girlfriend’s brother, reaching into his chest and grabbing his soul, taking it to his mouth-

(w͓̜̙͈ a̬̯̘͙̯͎ ì̬̤ ṭ͟)

He began to remember things that he had long forgotten...and he began to see things that he had never knew in the first place.

-----

He had a million things he wanted to tell Henry when he finally appeared to Dipper again but the first thing he managed was “I think you’re bleeding into me.”

“Huh,” said the empty flannel shirt that was laid over the back of the porch swing. “I guess we should have expected that.”

Dipper tensed for the shirt to disappear, but no it was still there, so he went on. “I guess it’s kind of fitting. You know. Because of-” Dipper waved the head over his head, and was relieved that the empty shirt chuckled.

“Oh yeah, that. Remember when I wasn’t able to read what I wrote for a month?”

“Yup.” 

The silence stretched. Dipper realized he was waiting for an apology.

“I’m not going to apologize,” the shirt said. “I thought about it- and I could have said all that better. But I’m done apologizing.”

There was a pause. There was a roar in Alcor’s chest- Henry had been rude! Henry had hurt his feelings, his feelings!- but Dipper ignored it, because if he gave in to it.

Something precious would be irrevocably broken. Maybe future Henrys wouldn’t know it, but Dipper would, always and forever. 

So instead he smiled and only said, “Water under the bridge.”

“Good.” Then the shirt disappeared.

But Dipper felt like he would see it again sooner rather than later. 

----

(all the trees of the field will clap their hands)

The Shack began to come alive again...no. Wait.

Not quite. Not quite alive. More the pale imitation of the already pale imitation that was in Dipper’s mind. 

But

There were the sounds of a house lived in. A toilet flushing, the washing machine on a rough spin cycle, clatter of fork and knife on plate... 

The temperature would drop at night and the windows would rattle as if they were being opened- Henry always liked to keep it cold at night when he slept- and rise in the day- because Stan would go around closing all the windows and refusing to turn on the AC to save money... 

It began to feel like Dipper was constantly walking into rooms that people had just left. A turn into the kitchen, and there would be dirty plates and cups on the table, with scraps of unfinished food. The bathroom would be fogged up, with a wet towel hanging to dry and condensation on the mirror. Muddy shoes, the mud still wet on the soles, left on the porch in front of the door. 

The TV turned to the informercials you got after the cartoons died at three am when he walked in, a bowl of popcorn kernels next to the couch, and he had been so close, so close, so fucking close-

But at the end of the day it was just Dipper, out of sync with a reality that had long left him behind.

----

finally, finally they began to just talk. to be.

Conversations began and ended mid-sentence, and it didn’t matter if a year or five or fifty or a hundred had passed, but they began them effortlessly once more.

Here and now, Dipper had Henry all to himself, and they talked and talked, unraveling each memory they had made together, good and bad. Unraveling each one, savoring it, getting the other’s point of view.

Here and now, Dipper had Henry all to himself, unbothered by the passing of time outside of their minds. They talked about the kids. The kids and the grandkids and the great-grandkids, and all the great-great-grandkids that Henry never had a chance to know. 

Here and now, Dipper had Henry all to himself, in a way that he never could have any of his family, because Henry didn’t leave him to get reincarnated, couldn’t leave him for another life, and now all they had was time. Time for Henry to read all the books of the world through the resources of Dipper’s memory, time for infinite amounts of stuttering conversations and bread and apple pies that Dipper hadn’t tasted in eons left on the stove for him. 

But there was one subject that neither of them were ready to broach, and Dipper hoped they never did.

----

(maybe i will always haunt you)

“You know this isn’t going to last forever, right?”

Dipper turned around.

There was no one there.

----

“I think I’m almost done.”

Dipper didn’t say anything because he knew it was true. Henry was able to appear to him for longer and longer periods of time, looking more and more complete. 

“There’s... there’s something I feel a pull to, I think that’s my next life.” 

Dipper still didn’t say anything.

“Look, please tell me you aren’t going to spend whatever we time we have left together giving me the silent treatment.”

Finally, Dipper spoke. “I’m not giving you the silent treatment.” 

Henry peeped over the tops of his glasses and gave him The Look and oh yes, his soul really was close to being reunited. 

“You know... you know I have to go right?”

“Yeah.”

“And that it’s not good for me to stay like this indefinitely?”

“Yeah.”

“And that petulance is unbecoming in a man of your age? “Henry!” 

The redheaded man smirked. “There we go. Now are we actually going to talk about how you feel or what?”

Dipper grimaced. Ugh. Emotional honesty. 

But he did manage to say, “I’m not ready for you to go.” 

Henry sighed. “I know. I’ll admit, I’m not entirely ready to leave either.”

“Then stay.”

“I can’t. I miss them.” He didn’t have to say who it was he missed because Dipper missed the same people.

“I...I could m̫͓̝̳͓̘ḁ̞͍̘͇͓k͙͉̥e̮̰̗̦̺̫̞ you stay.”

Henry smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, and his shadow began to stretch, the air around his head growing heavy, and the smell of blood filled Dipper’s nose. “You could try.”

The tension rose in Dipper, and then just as easily, faded away. “Yeah I could couldn’t I.”

Part of him still wanted to rage and scream, to get into a long, drawn out fight with Henry, to wail and gnash and exclaim how unfair it was to Henry, to the world.

But the world had changed, and Dipper, somehow, had changed along with it. He was older now. And he had had Henry all to himself for a millennium. 

He had had to eat Henry’s soul out of sheer desperation, to save his brother from further torture, a twisted gift to grant him the power to destroy a den of evil....

But this time, this span, had been a gift in its own right as well.

“Are you mad at me?”

“About what?”

“About... about what I did?”

Henry thought about it for a minute, giving the question the weight it deserved.

“I was a little upset, yes, for about fifty years. Because it did... hurt. Losing myself. Trying to piece myself back together. But deep down, I was never mad at you Dipper. I understood, understand.”

Henry grabbed Dipper’s hand. “And if you remember, I told you to do it as well.”

Another time, there may have been some sobbing, some crying about absolution and lack of deserving, and gnashing of teeth and rending of metaphorical hair.

But Dipper was older. And things changed.

And this time had been a gift, so instead he contented himself to let the conversation slip to lighter topics, to relish the little time he had left with Henry.

---

(and see the flaming skies!)

one day he came home and he was alone.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Little Bit Like Home

You moving to school has been tougher than Calum would like to admit but there are some moments that make it easier to bear, there are small moments where it’s not so bad. 

A continuation of these two blurbs (Blurb 1 and Blurb 2) Again it’s hella self indulgent. Inspired what really happened to me in my DnD campaign, see this post.  

**Contains spoilers for the Waterdeep Heist from Dungeons & Dragons if you are currently playing that module!!!**

Enjoy my masterlist!

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___________

“Can I make a perception check on the walls? See if there’s anything else funky in this room?” you ask, clicking over in your browser tab to the dice roller. The DM allows you to make that call and you click on the d20. 

“Your the only one rolling well on those things tonight,” one member of your party, playing an Orc sent out to learn magic and getting packed in with your ragtag group, notes after their failed attempt to pick the lock. You managed to pick that that too, but you chalk it up to you being a Drow Rogue and lock picking being one of your skills. 

“18,” you call out, looking back at your character sheet to make sure you’ve done the math correctly. 

“18?” The DM asks, just to be sure. You nod. “Okay, so you look around the room and there’s not really anything worth noting besides some dirt and blood. But no traps, no buttons in this room.”

“This room,” the entire party echoes laughing. The six of you have just survived barely a lightning trap. Which you still refuse to admit to setting up, but it was definitely you since as the marching order had you in front. 

“We’re going to have to go back to that mimic room,” the paladin of your group declares. Your party was warned that the room at the start of your adventure in this hell of a magic maze could be a trap and a mimic could be in the depths of it. But there was a chest still yet to be opened. However, you took the advice of your Orc and backed out of that room to avoid a fight just yet. 

Your previous encounters in other rooms leaving some of your party is better shape than others. This early in your adventure together the five of you didn’t really want to risk loosing anyone just yet. Lightening and your pirates love of ale seemed to be your only foe at the moment. 

“We should maybe just see what’s in here first,” Calum, playing as a Druid, counters. “Though it seems like if we find yet another key to a door that’s already been picked, it’s might be useless.” 

You know the tease is directed at you. “Hey, look here buddy, I will not hesitate to shoot a quiver into your ass. I see a lock I’m going to pick it,” you defend. 

“Besides,” your party’s pirate starts, “we’ve ducked a lot of rooms afraid of getting into another fight. If they pick a lock or two and we find the key later, at least we can add to the Bard’s collection.”

“Thank you,” you laugh. 

Soon your party’s able to direct their attention back on the adventure and magic maze you’ve found yourself in. You and Calum end up smashing mirrors in a room to avoid any sort of magic in them that would cause your party to fight your soul doubles. This leads to a five minute debate of how to leave said room that didn’t involve shoving the unicorn that your party was tasked with finding up someone’s ass due to a riddle unveiled, Everything you see is mine.

“Wait,” you say, laughing at the argument about who can fit the unicorn into their mouth. It was deemed to be more dignified. Your pirate waits outside the room, still naked thanks to the magic that rips all the clothes, weapons, and armor off of anyone that attempts to leave the room. “Everything you see is mine. If the mirrors are smashed, then nothing can be seen right?”

“No, shards can be face up, so technically things can be seen,” the party’s Bard counters. 

“No, no, you’re onto to something,” the pirate starts. 

“Oh my god, we’re so fucking dumb,” the orc hollers. “Someone cover their eyes. You means us. Anything we can see can’t leave the room.”

Thankfully, you’re still dressed having only attempted to leave the room and letting others continue with their naked escapades. “Holy shit,” you shriek as you direct to your DM how you cover your face with your hood and hold it tight around your eyes so you can’t see anything and step through the door. You’re able to cross completely clothed, swords, crossbow, and pack still in tact. 

“We’re so fucking STUPID,” you laugh. 

Calum’s giggle cuts through the speakers of your laptop. “How were we so prepared to just be fucking naked through the rest of this maze?” He directs to the DM that he redresses, having also attempted several times to brute force the magic door with no success. 

“We never speak of that,” the orc demands through their own laughter. “Never.”

The party comes to a stopping point about another hour later, saying goodbyes before leaving the Zoom meeting. Not even thirty seconds later after ending that call, an incoming FaceTime call comes from Calum. You answer it, wiping at the corner of your eyes. He’s grinning as the call finally connects. The weekend that Calum came up to visit, a friend in the cohort asked you if you’d be willing to going a beginner’s campaign. You had wanted to give the game a whirl but you knew it would be a time suck and asked if it was okay to bring someone else along too. 

After getting a yes from the DM you know you had to convince Calum to join in. It took less effort than you thought for him to join in and the two of you spent a couple hours the night before picking out your characters before you emailed the information back to the DM. Now every Saturday night you and Calum spend about three hours in a Zoom getting into all sorts of trouble. He settled easily on the Druid but spent forever trying to find an artist rendering of his character, Okolian, that felt right. Long black hair with streaks of white was a must along with a single braid as well, which he stole from your character’s look though your hair is all white. 

Slowly, it was decided that Okolian would have blue skin muscular, but not overly buff and refused to wear sleeves in order to wear leather arm bands around his biceps which could easily be mistaken for tattoos or markings of his people. Okolian prefers his staff but is also armed with a sickle and mace. The Calum touch of course was to add ferns rather than feathers. 

“I can’t believe you were going to let me be the one to have to figure out the unicorn,” Calum teases. 

“Hey, it was only six inches. Not that bad.”

He sputters his laughter. “Is that payback for calling you out for picking all the locks?”

“I would never do such a thing but maybe.” 

“Anything else on the agenda for tonight?”

“No not really. Whatever work there is out in the world, I’ll get to it tomorrow. What about you? The night’s still young.”  

Calum shrugs. “A friend was supposed to get back to me about drinks tonight,  but I haven’t heard anything yet. If he gets back within the hour or so, I’ll probably tag along but if not, it’s not a big deal. But you never did tell me about last night. How’d that go?”

You cover your face for a second, remember how many drinks were consumed the night previously. Calum laughs at the slightly panicked look that crosses your face. “There was two drinks too many past my usual limit and I felt it. Big time,” you answer. 

He’s glad to hear you getting out more. It’s in turned made him feel a bit better about getting back to his normal routine, getting dinner more with the guys or other friends. Missing you doesn’t hurt so bad anymore for Calum. He feels most often right before he’s going to bed, when he’d normally curl up into your side and open his arms wide for you to curl up into him. But it hurts less during the day. 

Getting used to the cohort and getting out a couple Friday’s in the month has helped you as well. You don’t feel so chained to your phone, don’t feel so beholden to being there for every text right away. It’s still hard when you start to cook dinner and almost reach out for a second plate still by habit. And in the morning when you’re fixing your cup of coffee your brain still wants to pull down a second cup. Sometimes you do. Sometimes you just give in because you need it. Need to let yourself sit with those feelings. 

“I’ll be sticking with cider after last night,” you tease. “Wine makes me myself too much. Never doing that again.”

Calum’s been privileged to see you wine drunk a couple of times and he can already imagine the type of trouble you nearly got yourself in. “Is your picture on the wall at the bar?”

“Not that bad, but close,” you giggle. 

“What am I going to do with you?” 

It’s just a joke but for a moment it makes you pause--what’s going to happen when you go back for break? Are things going to be different? Most of your clothes and things are still there though slowly more and more has been shipped to you. Is Duke going to remember you? Miss you too?

“Promise me the house isn’t too different?”

Calum furrows his brows, head titling just a little to the side. “What do you mean, baby?”

“Like without me, is it all going to be different when I come back?”

“It’s all pretty much the same here. Duke’s the king of the castle. Still have plenty of hoodies for you to steal and your side of the bed still misses you. I still miss you.”

“No, I--I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like I don’t want you to find ways to cope but I don’t know. What if it never feels right? Like so much has been missed that I just won’t ever fit in again?”

Calum shakes his head. “Babe, no. You still belong. Your shoes still have space in the closet. Your mugs still sit in the cabinets. There is so much of you still here--it’s how I get through the days.”

Maybe that’s what’s rough for you. There’s not much of Calum at your place. There’s none of his dirty laundry that’s halfway hanging of laundry baskets and there’s no bass rumbling and there’s snoring next to you at night. It’s all you, which is nice. But you wish you had a little bit of Calum too. 

“There’s none of you here,” you say softly. 

“I can fix that.” It’s a steady confidence, a nod of his head at statement. “Don’t you worry.”

You two steer the conversation to something lighter before you call it a night. And it’s harder to get up the next morning, to peel yourself out of the sheets. But you do it, you push up with a grunt and get your day started. Coffee, a quick bowl of cereal and fruit. You call Calum right before lunch to check in and then get back to work. 

As the days pass, the conversation the ache gets buried in some stress. However, you get a text about a package to get from the lockers at the front of your complex so shuffle down the path thinking it’s the new mattress pad you ordered. It shipped late last week but you hadn’t expected it to arrive this soon. 

As the door swings open to the locker you spy Calum’s handwritten on the label of the package. What the hell had be gone and done? You pick up the box and kick the door close with your foot before taking it back up to your apartment. Setting the box down on the kitchen counter, you find the scissors and cut into it. Right on top is a small envelope with your name scribbled across it. 

You said you didn’t have anything of me. So I knew I had to correct that. I hope they help. And a little thing from the old man, well not from him. But you’ll understand when you get to that. 

Love you. 

Digging into the box, you notice a few guitar pics, a couple extra t-shirt and then a long thin box. You pick it up, noticing it looks like a necklace. But with Calum you never can be sure. As you crack it open, you laugh, finding a gold chain staring up at you, attach to it is a tiny locket that as a paw print on it. You crack it open though and find a tiny picture of Calum and you inside of it and your eyes well with tears. It’s from your last vacation before you left for school, just two of you reclined on the beach and Calum kissing your temple. 

You draft a text to Calum. Tell Duke it feels like home now. 

[aviss]

For the short fic ask, would you be interested in writing 50 "Going through a divorce" for Jaime and Brienne?

Thanks for the prompt! To compensate by the fact I can’t write short and it took me longer than I thought, I seem to have tried to shove every single trope I could find into this one. 

The documents arrived just on the day they had agreed as Jaime knew they would. He was left standing with his back to the door of his brand new and empty flat with his hands holding the paper that was supposed to cleanly sever the most important relationship of his life.

No-fault divorce, as painless and bloodless as they had planned, laughing, two years ago while they drank Tyrion's excellent wine. 

This didn't feel painless to Jaime. 

It had been a great idea like all of Tyrion's ideas always were, and it had backfired and exploded on Jaime's face like they usually did.

"You two are already more married than most couples," Tyrion had said waving his glass around, the wine sloshing dangerously, his voice slightly slurred. "You get your father off your back for a while," he'd said pointing at Brienne, "and you'll get Aunt Genna off yours and fulfil the terms of the inheritance." The inheritance, his father's last laugh. Jaime cared nothing for the family fortune, he had his own money but unless he married before his thirtieth birthday neither of Tywin's children would inherit a gold dragon. Tywin had known he would do it for Tyrion, if not himself, and was manipulating Jaime even from beyond the grave. "You forget to sign a prenup, stay married for two years, and at the end of it you have the last fuck you for the old man by giving half of it to Brienne so she can donate it to kitties or dolphins or whatever the fuck she wants."

It had felt like such a good idea just then. Brienne had laughed, eyes sparkling and Jaime had lifted his glass on a toast.

"Ms. Lannister," he had said, clinking his glass with hers. 

"Mr. Tarth," she had countered, her voice raspy and low and so amused.

"See, you guys will be fine." Tyrion had joined his glass to theirs and they had all downed their glasses. 

Jaime and Brienne had married the following week, just the two of them in front of a judge signing some documents, and it had been fine. It had been more than fine, nothing had significantly changed as they had been living together for a couple of years already. They still had their own rooms but shared everything else, they still had their arguments about silly stuff and they still went out together more often than apart.

Brienne still scolded Jaime for leaving his dirty dishes in the sink instead of the dishwasher, except now she would say,  "I don't know why I married you, you'll be sleeping on the couch for a week," and they would both laugh at that.

Jaime still would drink the sludge she made in the mornings pretending to be coffee and moan about it. "I should have chosen a more skilled wife." 

Brienne always cuffed him over the head for that. "Then make your own coffee, you lazy husband."

"I should have married a less violent wife," Jaime would moan between fits of laughter.

It became their go-to joke when they were watching TV and fighting for the remote, when they were running in the mornings and met the neighbours, or when they got back home after work and Jaime would say, "Darling, I'm home," and Brienne would throw whatever she had at hand at his head.

It was perfect for a year and a half, it was everything Jaime had always wanted in a relationship and if sometimes he looked at Brienne, pressed against his side on the couch snoring lightly while pretending to still watch a movie, and felt the urge to kiss her, well that was just to be expected. 

They were husband and wife, it was normal to want to kiss your wife.  

Then they got drunk during Brienne's birthday dinner and woke up together in Jaime's bed, without clothes and without memories of how they got there. At least Jaime couldn't remember. He tried to laugh it off, though there was a weight settling in his stomach when he saw her horrified expression.

They had obviously had sex, and it was just as obvious that Brienne regretted it, if the way she looked at him and the haste with which she fled his room were any indication. The only thing Jaime regretted was that he didn't remember making love to Brienne. He had not known how much he wanted it until now, and it was clear there would be no repeat performance.

He had missed his chance, but at least he still had his friend. 

Or so he had told himself, for the first time since they had met in college, he was feeling awkward around Brienne and couldn't meet her eyes.

The awkwardness didn't disappear during the first few days, no matter how hard Jaime tried. He made the effort of behaving exactly the same way as he had done before, going out for a run in the mornings with Brienne though the conversation was now strained instead of easy, and Brienne always steered them away from their neighbours. He would plan movie nights like before, buying their favourite snacks, but Brienne always had plans with other friends lately. They hadn't shared the couch since that night, not they had shared a touch, when before they would brush against each other and rest together continuously. 

One morning, he complained about the coffee as always but Brienne didn't cuff him or follow the joke. 

"Sorry I can't make it any other way, you shouldn't drink it if it's that bad," Brienne snapped at him, her voice sharp though she wasn't looking at him. Jaime froze, the smile falling from his lips and the weight in his gut increasing.

The next morning she didn't make any coffee and Jaime felt the loss as more than the awful sludge.

"Darling, I'm home," he said coming back one night and seeing that Brienne was home, a desperate hope things could be back to normal. It was becoming a rare sight to come home to her dancing in the kitchen while she cooked, or sprawled on the couch with a book. More often than not she was already in her room, the door closed like a barrier between the two of them Jaime didn't know how to break.

Brienne's head snapped up and she stared at him with wounded eyes right before she closed her book and stood from the couch. "Can't you stop it? It's not funny," she said, and that was all Jaime could stand. 

He missed his best friend, it had been two months since that night and it felt like he had lost her, completely. Awkwardness he could understand, and he'd been trying to get past it, but Brienne was at points sad and angry, she had been withdrawing from him, and Jaime didn't know what to do anymore to stop it. "You used to think it was," he said, taking off his coat and hanging it on the back of the chair, something she would always scold him for. Brienne narrowed her eyes at it but said nothing. "Talk to me, Brienne. Don't go back to your room and hide there." 

She crossed her arms over her chest, tense, braced for impact. "I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"This?" he asked, though he knew what she meant. He just didn't want to believe it, "you mean us? Because of that night."

"Yes."

"Did I--" he started to ask, unsure of how to continue. He had no memories, as much as he would have loved to, of that night. He had tried, every single night since then to recall the taste of her lips and the feel of her body, he had tried to remember whether she had moaned or sighed, and if she had held him as tight as he wanted to hold her. But maybe it hadn't been like that. "Did I hurt you?"

Her eyes softened a bit at that. "No, not like that." She sighed, her mouth turning down at the corners. "It's not--I--you don't." She stopped and swallowed and Jaime waited for her to continue.

"Then why?" He asked when it was obvious she wasn't going to say anything else, he didn't understand. "I miss you, I miss my friend, why can't things be like before?" He wouldn't push for more if he could have their old relationship back. He could be, if not happy, at least content with it. 

Brienne looked like she was about to cry but turned and went to her room before she did. "I'm sorry, I can't."

She had gone to stay with Margaery the next day and Jaime had moved out of their apartment. 

He had made sure it went to her in the divorce settlement, along with half of everything he had. He would give it all, all of Tywin's misbegotten fortune and his own on top, if he could get his best friend back. He looked at the papers in his hand and sighed, checking them again, then paused. 

Jaime scanned the paperwork and saw all the changes she had made. Brienne had refused the money and properties that he had stipulated, had only requested things with sentimental value, like the painting of the Blue Knight Jaime had bought for her years ago. She had signed the papers and there were smudges where her name was, the ink spreading in a circular pattern which looked suspiciously like tear marks. 

She had been crying.

Maybe, Jaime dared hope, she missed him just as much as he missed her. Maybe he had been mistaken and she hadn't regretted sleeping with him because she didn't love him but because she did, and his trying to make it as if nothing had changed has hurt her. Maybe he was grasping at straws, but what did he care? He had already lost Brienne. 

Jaime was knocking on the door of his own flat ten minutes later, still short of breath because he'd not had the patience to wait for the lift.  The door was wrenched open on the second round of knocking, "I've told you I'm fine, Marg," Brienne said before she closed her mouth with a click. She didn't look fine, she looked as miserable as Jaime felt. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose runny and her mouth downturned. She was the best thing he had ever seen. "Jaime."

He pushed the divorce papers against her chest. "I don't want to sign them," Jaime said, not giving her the chance to say anything else. "I want my best friend back, but more than that, I want my wife back. I'm sorry I was so dense and didn't realize I loved you before I married you, but now that I know I don't want to leave. These last months have been awful." Her eyes were impossibly wide and there was a new light coming to them, one that had been missing since that night. "Do you want to stay married to me? This time for real?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him inside, closing the door and pushing him against it. She then pressed her lips against his and kissed him, long and deep, Jaime clinging to her for dear life. There was no way he didn't remember this one.

She pulled back and pressed her forehead against his, smiling. "I do."

[diabloindigo]

Are you the person to open a box of cereal just to get the toy inside? As a kid yes. Right now, I don’t buy cereals with prizes anymore. Do they even stuff toys in cereal these days? 

Do you get scared easy? If it’s in the anxiety induced variety, yes. 

What was one of the stupidest things you cried over when you were little? Not sure, it could have been anything from not wanting to wear a fancy dress or dress shoes to a party or a broken toy. 

Have you ever drank milk from the carton? Despite having a working dishwasher and plenty of glasses, I “waterfall” milk and juice from the containers. 

Juice or milk? I go both ways, leaning more towards juice. Apple or orange. 

Do you ever turn off your computer properly? Once in a while. 

Do you wish you were a fish? Not really, though I kinda envy the blue Dory (Doctor Fish?) in the tank at my gynecologist’s waiting room. It likes to swim to the bottom of the tank and ride up to the top on a bubble jet. That damn fish has probably had more fun than I have in the past several months. 

Who’s your favorite super hero? Invincible (Amazon Prime). Along with Spider-Man (2002) and the Big Hero 6 movie, that character/series is a rare superhero show that makes me feel strong and vulnerable at the same time. 

Who’s your favorite super villain? Slade Wilson/ Deathstroke as seen in “Teen Titans: The Judas Contract” animated movie and the 2003-2006 “Teen Titans” cartoon series. 

Spiderman or X-men? Spider-Man. Tobey Maguire and Peter B. Parker from Into the Spiderverse. 

Movie theatre or stay at home movie night? Theaters. Alamo Drafthouse. I love ordering boozy milkshakes and finger foods.

Do you have a Blue Ray? I have one of those external drives for my Mac though I never use it. 

How about HD television? Yeah

Do you think HD television is kind of a waste of money? No. 

Do you get why people get so frickin’ freaked out during football season? I do not, and living in a state with a hard-on for (American) football makes it weird when I tell people that I do not have a favorite football team/player. 

Do you ever sneak scraps to the dog even though you’re not suppose to? I don’t sneak him food. If I cook or order too much to eat, then I scrape a couple of cup’s worth of leftovers in his bowl. He’s probably got only a year to live so let him live it up a little. 

Are you reading a book right now? If so what? A friend gave me a copy of “The Only Good Indians” but I can't get into it so I’m reading “Full Throttle” by Joe Hill. 

What was the last book you were required to read for school? It’s been so long I can’t remember. 

O donuts or jelly filled? Whipped cream filled. I love Krispy Kreme’s whipped cream filled donuts with raspberry filled donuts as a close second. 

If I’m feeling bland then I do like crullers. 

Do you like your ice-cream in a bowl or cone? Bowl unless it’s a tasty cone. 

Marshmallows in your hot chocolate or no? I could go either way unless it’s a tiny cup of chocolate. 

Do you like cherry coke? Hell yes. I love going to Sonic for a cherry-vanilla-lime Coke or this greasy little 1950s type burger joint for their cherry cokes since they load the cups with several cherries. 

Do you really think diet Dr. Pepper is the equivalent of a cupcake? No, it tastes artificial. Like a bastard child of a soft drink that wants to pass for cherry soda. 

Do you snore in your sleep? Drool? Talk? Snore and talk (I’m pretty stressed out).

Have you ever sleep walked? no

Are you a morning person? I am now. 

How do you wake up in the mornings? by alarm during the work week, naturally at 6-7 on vacation days. 

Do you think guyliner is hot? What is that? 

Is variety the spice of life? yeah

Do you think strawberry milk is disgusting? I like it. 

Have you ever drank after anyone? Like sharing a cup/bottle? Yeah, loads of times.  

Have you ever drank after anyone you don’t know very well? No. 

Do you have any limits on who you drink/eat after?

If we’re talking about sharing, then I will share food/drink with family and friends. If someone offers me bite-size pieces that are individually wrapped or can be torn off the main portion, I’ll eat it, but only from co-workers or acquaintances. 

Would you eat a sucker if someone already ate some of it? No. 

Would you chew somebody else's gum? Hell no. 

Do you know anyone who’s going to die of mono because of that? No. 

Do you enjoy school? My English and psychology classes. 

Are you a teacher’s pet? no

Do you have a job? Yes. 

How did you get to and from school? Parents drove me or I walked for elementary through high school. I drove when I went to college. 

Do you have a bedtime? And if so what is it? I’m in bed between 11-12 a.m.

What time do you get up? 6 am so I can walk/exercise before the sun boils the earth in full force. 

Have you ever pulled an all-nighter? Yeah in college. 

What’s more important? Beauty or brains? brains

Do you believe in yourself? Sometimes I do, and sometimes I don’t. 

Did you ever want to be an astronaut when you were little? No. Being a veterinarian or scientist were my highest ambitions as a small kid. 

How about the president? Never. 

What did you want to be when you were little? Veterinarian, scientist, cartoon character. 

Did you ever want to be a super model? no

Do you believe you’re attractive enough to be a super model? No.

Have you ever had an X-ray? Several in the past few months for pre-surgery and dental work.

What’s your favorite guy’s name? What’s your favorite girl’s name? Guys’: Shane, Mark, Tadashi, Austin, Cade, Trip.

Girls’: Quince, Sienna, Amy, Kit, Lizzie (Elizabeth), Raven.

Who’s your second cousin’s, grandparent’s, sister? The fuck...

Do you laugh to yourself whenever the ketchup bottle farts? No, in fact, I get annoyed when other people hear it and ask me if I farted. 

Do you have any real guns in your house? I have several. 

Do you know how to use nunchucks? No, I bought a pair at one of those Asian imports emporiums, but I donated them since I never learned to use them. They were these crappy foam padded ones with dragons printed on the handles. 

Do you know anyone who can use nunchucks? No. 

What do you want to be next Halloween? In better health and not shitting bricks about using up my paid time off to go to doctors’ appointments. 

Did you ever consider getting a job as a mall Santa? No. I’d rather be one of his elves or a reindeer. 

Are you the one responsible for taking out the garbage? Yes. Grosses me the fuck out sometimes with smelly discarded poultry trays or rotten food, but somebody’s gotta do it. 

Do you recycle? My city has the blue recycling bins, but I heard that since we’re an ass-backward community, “recyclables” and trash all go to the same place. I just place recyclables in the blue bin to help clear up space in the trash bin. Maybe I’m wrong and this city does recycle? Can’t hurt. 

When I was 11, I’d collect empty soda cans to take to the recycling guy since back in the day, they’d pay for aluminum cans. That’s how I scraped up funds for dollar movies and hot dogs. 

Are you a pyro? Yeah. I carry/collect Zippo lighters but mostly because the “click-click” is satisfying to hear since I flip the lids open and closed to relieve stress. And I burn a lot of old bills and letters with sensitive info on them. 

What was the last word/thing you wrote down? I was researching high fiber foods that are also low in carbs to make a grocery and dinner meal plan. 

Sleeping or eating? After my surgery, sleeping. 

Are you overall a positive person? I try to be realistically positive, if such a thing exists. The world will never be all sunshine and My Little Ponies, but I try to find some comfort and positivity when my world is a shit-show. Filling this survey out kinda helps. 

Do you hate hypocrites? Yeah, especially the “do as I say, not as I do” types. 

For instance, a certain family member is pushing good diet and health habits, but it aggravates the hell out of me if I see him drinking high sugar iced tea or eating ice cream. Or Door-Dashing Burger King, even if it is a Beyond Whopper with a diet Coke. 

Do you like to prank people? Yes, but I do benign pranks like leaving dirty riddles and meme drawings on their front doors. 

What was the worst prank you’ve ever done on anyone? I tried fucking with a telesolicitor but I could not stop laughing. 

Have you ever jumped on a trampoline in the ice? I don’t own a trampoline. 

Have you ever ice skated? No. I tried once after a local minor league hockey game. I got the skates on, but my ankles were bending/bowing out so I changed my mind.

Ever water skiid? No. 

Is vacuum spelled funny? Yes. 

Democrat or republican? I don’t associate formally with either party, but I hitch my pony a little to the left. 

Who’s the biggest asshole you know? My former boss circa 2013. Very unprofessional and a veritable loudmouth and a poor (shit) showman wannabe. 

Pen or pencil? Gel-ink pens. 

Should all paper have holes? nope

Speaking of holes. Swiss cheese, what’s the point of that? Fewer calories? Spinning slices in my hand like a TV cowboy spinning his revolver in the trigger guard with his finger? 

Have you ever been in a helicopter before? No. 

Own any airbrushed tshirts? Nope, not even in the nineties. 

Have you ever been suspended? No. 

Have you ever been in a fist fight? A few playground fights as a kid. 

Ever said something to someone that you didn’t mean to say? Yes. 

Do you forgive too easily? I don’t think so. 

What are you listening to right now? The AC running. 

Have you ever seen any of MCR’s music videos? Nope. 

Are you tan? No. 

Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No. I have no desire to look like a Cheeto or woo skin cancer. 

Have you ever played water volley? Once at my uncle’s neighborhood swimming pool. 

Ever had a sunburn? Yes, from neglecting sunscreen re-applications or underestimating the sun. 

How about wind burn? It hurts….. Nah, I don't live in a cold enough climate for that. 

What was the first word you learned how to say? I think it was “mama.”

[mxvladdy]

A Break

Part Duo. Some fluff, some plot. I guess? I just like writing this one. 

Chapters: 1-2-3-4

Two

Hanzo left later that evening with a chaste kiss and a promise to call when he could. You watch him go, waving him off from your little balcony stopping only when he became lost in the sea of people below. The gold of his ribbon disappearing in the blur of faces and colors. Alone again you flop down onto your bed staring watery-eyed up at your ceiling fan. The quiet around you no longer the comforting kind, his soft-spoken presence a larger comfort then you thought. Already you missed the feel of him draped over you in bed, his gentle snoring in your ear.

Glancing at your alarm clock you debate whether it was worth it to get up and do something with your evening or just call it an early night. Fuck it. You were gloriously sore and sleeping sounded amazing right now. Work could wait for tomorrow. Laziness winning over you rose kicking off your leggings slipping under the covers of the freshly made bed, courtesy of Hanzo. Stretching out on his side of the mattress you reach out to your bedside table, fingers ideally pulling Hanzo's latest gift to you.

The metal of the pendant was cool to the touch. The light silver chain of the necklace shone brightly from the twilight outside. Thumbing over the tiny owl impression on the drachma you smile longingly. Slipping it over your head you tuck the coin under your shirt.  

Greece. What an adventure.

You wished he could have stayed longer this time to talk about his travels. Greece had been a place you dreamed of going when you were younger, but gave it up to get your career off the ground. That was your life now, bookkeeping and payroll. Our business needed you more than you needed to travel. Perhaps one day you could feel confident enough to leave the shop for a world tour. Or maybe even a romantic getaway with Hanzo, see if you were really compatible.

Admittedly your romance had been a whirlwind from the start. A drunken kiss with a handsome stranger that should have led to nowhere but a musty motel room followed by an awkward goodbye. But instead, you woke up with his number and a promise of an actual date. Half a year later Hanzo had a drawer of clothes and a toothbrush in the bathroom. Snuggling in deeper under the sheets you yawn clicking off your lamp drifting off with your phone clutched in your hand. You sleep peacefully wrapped in your boyfriend's warm floral scent till a light buzzing wakes you. Your phone vibrates, the light blinding you when you unlock it. Not that you care.

Hanzo (3:14am): 

Shuttle just landed. Be safe for me.

You (3:14am):

Always will :*

And you too please! I find myself rather attached…

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Ha. I will try not to freeze to death.

Hanzo (3:16am): 

Perhaps you could warm me up next time?

You snort wrinkling your nose at his flirting.

You (3:16am):

Yes sir! But it’ll cost you

Hanzo(3:20am): 

A price I will willingly pay.

Hanzo(3:22am): 

I must go, I’ll call when I get the chance.  

You (3:23am): 

Goodnight! Miss you already

You wake late the next morning groggy but warm, tangled in the sheets. Alarm screaming obnoxiously close to your face. Blindly, you swipe at the phone silencing the noise and rise. Waddling groggily you head to the bathroom to get ready for the day. You arrive an hour late grinning ear to ear. Your friends and employees glancing up smirking at your poor excuse for calling in sick yesterday. You let them work heading to the back to get your workload started for the day. Setting up in the back of the store in your favorite corner you look over your new assortment of dried leaves, flowers, and fruits.

The background noise of the shop and quiet music overhead lulling you into a comfortable trance. You hum under your breath pulling your scale closer to you blatantly ignoring Tabatha. She circles you like a hawk, keen eyes looking for any opening to start grilling you. The heat of her gaze latching on to the blemishes and love bites you didn’t even bother hiding. Placing your pestle down you sigh turning to her. “Ok. Ok. Lay it on me girl.”

Tabatha moved in fast plopping down next to you grabbing your pile of dried lemon rinds. “In all the time I have known you I’ve never seen this.” She starts shaving the rinds down smaller. “You skipped work, unannounced. During peak season!” She rounds on you dumping the shavings into their allotted jar. “I’m so proud!” You laugh tension you hadn’t noticed you were carrying in your shoulders dissipating. “I’m serious!” She continues. “All this time and I’ve never seen you finally blow off some steam till he showed up.” Tabatha smiles and leans closer flicking a soft curl ticking your ear. “You know you have to bring him around for drinks and leftovers sweets. Shit, the rest of the team wants to meet him too! Your pictures don’t do him justice.” You nod promising to ask next time he came to visit.

The rest of the day moved on from there at breakneck speed, the front portion of the shop bursting with patrons. The back with employees running about, fresh herbs, pastries, and coffee carafes in hand. The din of your business running smoothly a comfort to your frazzled mind. You finish your newest blend with a flourish, sprinkling dried ginger into the jar closing it with a satisfying ‘snap’.  

“Yo Boss! Can you cover the front while I take my break?” Switching places you wish your employee a good break. Perching at the register you make small talk with a few regulars as the evening lull hits. Greeting a cluster of teenagers as they entered you pause mid conversation taking in the new customers coming in behind them.

Oh. Well, this was rare. Omnics came in from time to time sure that wasn’t unusual. You make it a point to welcome everyone equally, as did your employees. But omnics always came in with human companions or solo to pick up an order or gift. And they most certainly never glowed. You eye the two curiously. The green one wandering aimlessly picking up different jars of teas and homemade jams before being over a display case of brightly colored macaroons. The other taller one was dressed in baggy pants merely looked at the counter before making eye contact.

“Ahh~ greetings.” He spoke. His voice, while naturally monotone it held an underlying tone of levity. “I wish to inquire about your tea selections. I have heard you have a unique variety.”

“Oh course!” You blush embarrassed that you were caught staring. “We have a small selection of in house blends, but the bulk of our products are sourced from fair trade shops from India, China, Japan, and Africa.” You recite by heart pulling out your display tray. The omnic looked down at the cards reading each selection as you described them nodding along patiently.

“What a peculiar name?” He picked up your latest custom blend. Southern Dragon. “How do you come up with the names?”

“I let my staff pick and vote on names. But this one-” You smile softly popping the tin open. “I named after someone.” The tea itself didn’t look like anything fancy sure. The blend of reddish-brown sticks looked like something someone could scoop up outside, Tabatha had joked about it often. “ Hojicha, roasted in house with dried ginger and imported nashi pear. This is the first season we are caring it as I like to buy fruits only when in season. It isn’t one of our most popular yet, but many customers have appreciated the mild caramel flavor and slight sweetness of the peaches and gentle tang of the ginger.”

“I see, that sounds very pleasant. I would like a bag of that and perhaps the sharp lemon for my pupil.” You nod scooping out the desired amounts into two small bags weighing them swiftly.

“And anything for you?” You smile less genuinely at the smaller omnic as they all but swaggered over. You had felt his gaze the whole time you had been chatting.

“Hmm.” They leaned on your counter visor not leaving you, long metal fingers clicking on the marble counter top. “I’d take a small shortcake and a three-pack of macaroons, the matcha ones; if they come with your number.”

You freeze choking on your smile, even the other omnic seemed surprised.

“Genji-”  

“We have our business number on the bottom of our boxes and bags, and a popular online storefront.” You ring him up quickly handing him his order.

“Mmm. I was hoping for something more...personal.” They continued voice dropping low into a slightly clipped purr.

“No.” You cut them off quickly, smile gone. “I have a boyfriend.”

They gasp in mock shock. If they had lips you were positive they would be stretched into a shit eating grin. “What a lucky man.” They tip heavily turning without another word to the door, phone out texting animatedly. You look blankly at their abandoned companion waving a hand uselessly at the door.

“I apologize. He sometimes forgets himself. I hope my pupil didn’t offend? I would like to return at a later date.” They bow low in compensation. “I will have him apologize properly when we meet again.”

Meet again… You jerk your head awkwardly still processing what in the world just happened.

“Woooow,” Tabatha drawls wrapping an arm around you watching the two take their leave, the taller one levitating the moment they were outside. “ Wow . Popular with all types huh? Thought I was gonna need to come in here an’ knock heads.”  

“Please,” You scoff recovering to wipe down the counter. “That has to be one for the books, right next to that time I fell in the school fountain at graduation. All white- like a dumb ass.” Tabatha howls with laughter already walking back to your shared office.

“A beautiful day in history. But damn that green one was mighty pleased to hear you were taken.”

“Ha-ya.” You frown rubbing your arm. Now that you think about it it was kinda weird. Perhaps they were a friend of Hanzo’s. He never spoke of omnics, cowboys and old vets, but you would think highlighter green would stick out.  

Tabatha came back talking to the last of your closing staff noticing you were still looking out the window. “Hey- you ok?”

“Yea-yea. Just thinking about it now.” Your friend frowns discarding her armload to lead you back into your office dropping you in your chair.

“I’m sure it’s nothing. But how ‘bout you get started on the paperwork, and I’ll cover the front in case they come back.” You agree already pulling a stack of orders to you booting up your computer. You get a few hours of work done in peace as your employees filter out for the night, bidding you and Tabatha a good night. With a huff she collapses to the couch watching you work for a moment.

“You forgot didn’t you.” Hmm? Tabatha meets your blank stare dark brows raised into her hairline prompting you. Blinking you try slyly to look at your calendar. Was it someone's birthday? Anniversary? “ Gurl ." She jokes. "Dick that good you forgot whine and cheese night?” Oh. Oops. 

Whine and cheese night had been a tradition since grad school, then when you went into business together. Every last Sunday of the month you two had a few too many drinks and bitched about anything that came to mind that month. Tabatha chortled grabbing your keys and turning off your monitor. “Good thing I remember. I got some new vintages and some fancy cheeses I stole from my girl’s fridge.” She leads you out of the shop locking up the building pushing you out into the brisk night air. You walk the short distance to your flat listening to her talk rapidly about her upcoming trip with her girlfriend to France. “Handsome take you anywhere yet?” She asks finally taking a breath at your front door.

“Does the city fair count?” You ask flipping on the lights to your kitchen. You glaze at your friend's face. Clearly it did not. “He isn’t around often enough to do something like that. Not that I mind,” You add quickly trying to get your piece in before she decides to cut in, her frown growing. “We had plans to rent a beach house for a weekend but he had an emergency at work. After that, we just do stay in dates or stuff around town.”

“What, he always on call or something?” Tabby flops hard onto your floor pillow kicking off her shoes. “Or like too afraid to tell his boss off?”

You snort passing your lounging friend an overfilled glass of zinfandel. “Bit late for the background check ain’t it?” She accepts the wine gracefully wiggling deeper into the cushions stealing your remotes. “Besides, I like just having lazy days here. He travels a lot for work so I’m sure that gets exhausting. I doubt a road trip would be relaxing for him. I like just having him here even if it is to just sleep.”

“Rrrriiiggghhtt. ‘Sleep’ .” She snorts looking wholly unconvinced as you settle into your favorite recliner sticking your tongue out teasingly. The two of you get lost in your favorite show then, talking on and off between mouthfuls of pizza and chips. “So-” Tabatha rises a few hours later popping her back. Eyes going to the liquor cabinet dramatically. “Wanna bring out the good shit and tell me all about your impromptu to vacation day?” She wiggles her brows, popping the cork out of your favorite gin bottle pouring you way too much. Downing your first glass in one you hunker down for a long night.

For the second night in a row, buzzing wakes you. The vibrations sharp and rhythmic against your thigh. Groggy from booze and gossip you dig around your chair. “‘Ello?” You mumble wiping drool from your cheek.

“Ah. My apologies-I forgot about time zones. Would you like me to call you back.” Hanzo. You perk up a little stumbling over your passed out friend to your bedroom door.

“No-no. I wouldn’t want to miss this.” You beam rubbing the sleep from your eyes clicking your door closed softly. The haze of the day prior leaving you with his smooth voice, his soft chuckle in your ear made him feel like he was there. The warm presence on your back instead of your sweat-soaked tank clinging to your frame.

“The same can be said for me- but I really should let you sleep. I merely wanted to hear your voice before my… shift started.” Faintly you could hear the sounds of laughter and clinks of plates in the background.

“Where are you?” You ask beyond curious, hoping for a satisfying answer. He paused again, the sound of merriment and chattering fading into the background. “Breakfast and a shift change. It was my turn to cook along with a friend. He had an idea for a 'traditional American breakfast'. It is very hearty, the others are excited. I expect I'll have heartburn for the next week now.”

“Aww! You’ve never made me breakfast!” Ah shit. “Not that that’s a problem!” You backpedal. “Life is hectic and we both have hard schedules.” Silence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Hanzo shushed you gently over the phone. “No, you are more than within your right. I do not do all that I would like with you, yet you set aside time for me every time you can.” You snort into dead air. It wasn’t that hard for you, Tabatha all but forced you to take weekends off from work.

“It’s ok. Don’t make it feel like a duty, love. I just… wish we could do more couple like stuff you know?”  You twine your fingers feeling childish for even complaining.

“I understand that feeling, I have been neglectful. Allow me to make it up to you?” You hum faking thinking hard on your answer. “ Darling.”   Your chuckle behind you hand practically hearing the pout on his elegant face. He continues with a huff. “After this assignment I’ll ask for personal leave. A few weeks perhaps? We can do whatever.”

“I like the sound of that.”

[atlasburdenedarchive]

day one .

she watches him leave , speechless in a new kind of way  . he’s asked for his space and she’ll give it to him , despite every bone in her body yelling at her to follow him. convince him to stay with them , with grog , with her . percy and vex storm out , she understands . she tries , she tries to catch grog before he leaves because she knows how hurt her brother is , even if no one else does . she looks to vax for answers she knows she won’t find, a hurt she doesn’t quite understand forcing tears to her eyes and a guilt in the pit of her stomach that no matter how hard she tries , she can’t fill with alcohol . she waits until they’ve drunk all their bodies could physically handle . until their matching fun buns make their way slowly back to the castle in an uncanny silence that she hates and she deposits vax on the nearest soft surface and collapses next to him once her armor is off. her head and the room are spinning as she stares at the ceiling of one of many drawing rooms at castle whitestone and she grabs her earring to activate it .  

scanlan . i know you can’t hear me. you’re gone …. with kaylie . which is good . she needs a dad . you’re gonna be such a good dad . i’ve always known that . even before she came along . you’ve got such a big heart and you don’t want anyone to see it … i see it . grog sees it . vax sees it. vex and percy and keyleth , they know how much - how big - how you love them . i know that you needed to leave . i don’t get it but i understand it you know ? we shouldn’t have done that while you were … percy and i … it was wrong of me to do that in front of kaylie after you trusted me with her . i know that now and when you come home i’ll apologize proper . swear on sarenrae . vax snores abruptly and she stops , smiling at him softly as tears she hadn’t even noticed roll down her cheeks .  i don’t regret asking kaylie to help us bring you back because … we might not have been able to get you back at all & having you alive and gone for a while is a trade i will always be willing to make if the alternative is …  well, anyway …  she pauses again, a heavy weight on her chest that even now she knows isn’t due to the alcohol . i miss you already. she falls asleep on vax & if any of vox machina was sober enough to hear her , they don’t tell her .

day two .

allura asks her to go to emon and she doesn’t hesitate . guilt compounding on her heart because it knows before she does that she won’t be able to be there for keyleth . until she meets taryon & it’s almost like they’ve replaced scanlan already & she just … she just can’t . vex tells her that she doesn’t always have to be so strong & for the first time she tells someone besides scanlan the truth : of course she does . if she’s not strong , if she doesn’t have a stiff upper lip she’d never be able to watch them walk away . she’d never be able to bring them back over because seeing them , lifeless in front of her is only half the pain & guilt of not being there to save them in the first place .

day nine .

vax died today. he died for keyleth and neither of us were there. i want to be so mad at you scanlan, and i’m trying so hard not to be. they need you. they need you more than you know. not because you can heal them or because you can house them . they need you . we love you .

day ten .

i miss you . not because everyone is gone . not because i’m lonely & i miss everyone . i just … miss you & not knowing that you and kaylie are safe is driving me crazy .

day seventeen .

scanlan? i know you can’t hear, but i’m sitting in a tavern right now with grog; he just went to sleep . i had a pretty good day . i had to do a lot of labor; just lifting stuff into a cart . and then , you know , vox machina, lo and behold, come home and i see them and now we’re here . but we miss you . i’m going to– I’m very tired .

day seventy-two .

i hope you’re safe .

day eighty-seven .

grog misses you & he’s looking for you , vax is looking for you … we’re all looking for you . we just want to know you’re safe , scanlan .

day one-hundred and seventy-five .

she’s tired of talking to a man she knows can’t hear her , who clearly doesn’t want to be found , but she still implores her god to watch over him and his daughter every night she prays .

day two-hundred and sixteen .

i have to tell you something . she says quietly to her empty room in grayskull keep . the keep is full of people who’s homes were destroyed in the siege , who can’t afford to rebuild just yet . it had been stupid to think that she’d show up & he’d be there .  it was vex . who i had feelings for - who i had my heart . did . i do love her still . i don’t know that i could ever stop , she’s a part of this family that we have and she’s a huge part of my life . my feelings are part of the reason i went to sea . i couldn’t be around everyone & not tell her because if i did & she didn’t feel the same way i’m not sure i’d have been able to stay anyway . & i think i knew … that she and percy would … well , that’s not the point . the point is that there wasn’t anything wrong with you scanlan , you should know that . sure , you came on a little strong but you were never mean about being rejected & so many people would have been . you just loved me & i couldn’t … i couldn’t take all of the feelings you had for me while i still had feelings for her . especially after you gave me that beautiful note & opened your heart to me so fully . you did propose to me , though , in front of everyone . even though i think you knew i’d say no . 

day two-hundred and eighty-eight .

she’s on a beach in marquet at dawn , small feet buried in the sand as sits with her knees to her chest , arms wrapped around them . there’s a quiet breeze that plays with the loose tendrils of her recently dyed hair as she watches the waves crash on the shore before her , the water barely coming up to kiss the top of her feet . the sun creeps it’s way slowly across the horizon and it doesn’t seem fair to enjoy it without scanlan . tary is amazing , they all love him . he’s no scanlan and thankfully never tries to be . she takes her earring out and clenches it in her hand as if it would still work . he can’t hear her either way . hi , scanlan , we’re on vacation ! in the bay of gifts ! i don’t think … we ever got to go on vacation before you left . too many dragons . too many vampires . i like us relaxed , i think you’d like us relaxed . we’ve … done such good things this year . we’ve all done … such good things , despite missing you . i can’t wait for you to see slayer’s cake . we named some cookies after you . they’re ok . i can’t wait for you to meet taryon . i can’t wait for you to see how happy vax is , it’ll blow your mind . percy and vex are , of course , a power couple . grog and i kicked most everyone’s ass in vasselheim . keyleth is … such an amazing leader . of course she is . i wish you could hear me . i wish you were here . there’s a small sound behind her & she looks up to find keyleth , sleep still on her features and not a small amount of worry as she watches her sheepishly . pike smiles , holding her hand out for keyleth to join her & she’s grateful that she gets to enjoy this beautiful sunrise tucked into kiki’s side without the questions she knows she wants to ask .

day three-hundred and eight .

i met my family this week . well , they’re not really my family , honestly . vox machina is my family . grog & wilhand are my family . you are my family . they made my doubt myself but i … i opened up , you know ? i thought that they could be different , that they could be proud of me & that i could change them  & they just wanted my money . i opened my heart & i trusted them & they … they wrecked me . i - you could destroy me . i could open up my heart & i could trust you & you could destroy me , scanlan , more than they did . that’s not fair to you but it’s true & i would just - never recover from that . you mean so much to me & your friendship means so much to me but you confuse me . you kind of – you – make me feel like i’m standing on the edge of a cliff & i want to jump . you have no idea how often i want to jump with you scanlan . something always holds me back though , something that fears the way that i can’t always read you for what you actually mean or say . the thought of hurting you , of getting hurt , of ruining what we have , of ruining vox machina is so much scarier than facing vampires & necromancers & five dragons . because i can’t live up to an ideal . no one can live up to a fantasy .... by the way that cliff metaphor is kind of fucked up because keyleth ... well , the only person who could kill keyleth killed keyleth . i miss you .

day three-hundred and fourteen .

as soon as the half-orc calls his boss the meat man , the tension rolling off of grog only fuels the anger that’s sparking in her heart . they go through this farce . they meet ‘ aes adon ‘ . scanlan doesn’t even have the dignity to show them his real face . to face grog . to face her . & she thinks maybe she built it up in her head a little bit because she’s thought about seeing scanlan a lot ( more than she’ll admit ) over the past three hundred and fourteen days . she’s thought about the relief she’d feel once she knew he was ok . she’s thought about … well, it doesn’t matter what she’s thought about because he hadn’t been planning on staying after he’d given them the information about the ziggurat and/or gotten the plans for a fucking gun from percy . her fingers curl into small fists at her side and when tary leaves , she so desperately wants to follow him out , despite vex’s small plea . despite the hurt on scanlan’s face . she finds herself unable to keep quiet as he speaks , petty asides thrown at him that she doesn’t truly mean but only make her angrier . at him . at herself . when percy breaks the seal she takes the opportunity to leave as quickly as she can because she can’t stand it anymore , especially not when the twins are so clearly ready to forgive him . she and grog do what they do best , they drink their feelings ( whatever they might be ) & fight chod  / lionel / scanlan’s new … whatever he is . she knows lionel doesn’t deserve her anger , he doesn’t deserve grog’s anger . the punch to the half-orc who has been nothing but nice to them , feels a lot worse than she thought it would . vax and vex find her before she can catch up to grog , her anger as entwined with his as anyone , and she tries . she tries so hard to convince them she’s fine . it’s a lot harder this time . she hasn’t had to in so long . they are too perceptive for their own good but they let her leave anyway & that means more than they know . 

she doesn’t want to open the door , doesn’t know if she can see him again so soon but when she does , she definitely doesn’t expect to hit him . it doesn’t make her feel better . cussing him out doesn’t make her feel better . apologizing like she promised she would all those nights ago doesn’t feel like a real apology . she listens to him & some part of her is happy for him . so very happy that he & kaylie have what most of vox machina has never had with their own fathers . it’s all she’s wanted , to be honest . all she’s prayed for when she prays for them . & she can feel herself soften . he’s different , she notes as he apologizes for ogling her , for hurting her , for meeting her at the wrong time . she doesn’t deserve the apology , owes him one at this point if she’s being honest . will owe him until she & grog talk & she finds out where he stands . perhaps we’ll meet again in different circumstances . she lays in grog’s bed later that night listening to him snore , they hadn’t talked . she’d just climbed into his bed like she’d done when they were younger . she can’t help but hear the echoes of her own words replaying themselves in her head . no one can live up to a fantasy . scanlan is not the ghost that she’s spilled her secrets to under the cover of night . he’s not the same person who’d taken all of their flaws and thrown them in their faces . he’s not the same man who got kaylie’s mother pregnant without knowing . he’s trying his best to be true to himself , just like she is . just like they all are . different circumstances feel an awful lot like a second chance to do things right , to do them better . it doesn’t mean she’s ready to forgive , despite the nagging at the back of hear head . she already knows what she’ll find when she finally acknowledges the anger she is clinging to : the confusing feelings scanlan has always made her face whether he knows it or not , whether she wants to or not .