#central city would treat him so good

[ameba-from-space]

I would love for spiderman to be in the dc universe for even a single day, not because I want to see him interact with any of my faves, but because I think he deserves at least one day where he as a hero is universally love and appreciated by every single person he saves and the DC universe is one particularly where he can experience that

[b0xerdancer-writes]

A Second Chance

Dark!Rhysand x Reader

Summary: Rhysand regretted many things he thought. He regretted telling Tamlin about his mother and sister, he regretted everything he had to do under the mountain, regretted some of his actions during the war with Hybern, he regretted having to treat Azriel the way he did with Elain, he regretted not making the ‘for life’ deal with Feyre, and most importantly he regretted not being able to save Feyre and their unborn child durings Feyre’s rough birth. But he would not regret her or the things he did for her.

Word Count: 7,139

Warnings: Murder, Dark!Rhys, Death, War, Grief, Therapy, Manipulation, not proofread we die like men.

Notes: Sorry this took so long, i took a small hiatus for life stuff going on! Hope you enjoy!

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Rhysand regretted many things he thought. He regretted telling Tamlin about his mother and sister, he regretted everything he had to do under the mountain, regretted some of his actions during the war with Hybern, he regretted having to treat Azriel the way he did with Elain, he regretted not making the ‘for life’ deal with Feyre, and most importantly he regretted not being able to save Feyre and their unborn child durings Feyre’s rough birth.

It has taken Rhys and the entire inner circle a long time to adjust to her not being around, Rhys even longer so. He had completely put off court duties and public appearances in the recent months, but after an intervention via Amren he finally dragged himself out of the estate and into the city of Velaris.

Amren had been fed up with Rhysand’s antics and had thrown him a card for a grief support group that had popped up after the war, she had declared that if he wouldn’t go for them that he should at least go for Feyre. So here he was, slinking through the streets of Velaris on his way to the damned widow support group.

It was hosted in a small cafe which explained the drinks and snacks provided, the tables had been cleared to one side of the cafe ans a circle of chairs sat in the center, coffee and pastries lined on the checkout counter, a few females and a few males were gathered in small circles. A female in a floured apron came out of the backroom carrying an assortment of pastries, flour in her hair and on her face as she balanced the overstuffed tray.

Rhys had been debating between the caramel coffee or the chocolate coffee, after all caramel was Feyres favorite but Chocolate was his, when she greeted him. “Oh! My lord! Its great to see you! Please pick whatever coffee you like. Feel free to mingle or feel free to simply take a seat and wait for the meeting to start.”

“Oh. Uh. Thank you.” He nodded grabbing the caramel labeled coffee. “You own this place?”

“Own and host.” She nodded.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

She smiled back. “And I'm sorry for yours”

“To be honest, I’m not sure I’d be comfortable with either yet, I don’t know enough people to mingle and can’t sit and twiddle my thumbs.” Rhys shrugged.

“Well you might get covered in flour but you can help me back here.” She suggested.

“I don’t mind some flour, what do you need help with Darling?” The word felt foreign in his mouth but good. Like a step in the right direction.

“Uhhh, if you wanna help me carry the tray of cookies from back there it would be helpful.” She motioned to the doorway behind her with a small smile on her face.

“Gladly.” Rhysand nodded and followed her into the back.

When they returned back upfront, tray of cookies and pastries in hand, the final members of the support group were trickling into the small cafe. Chairs had been arranged into a circle, activities stationed off to one side of the room and stacks of grief management books at a table on the other. She dusted off her hands with her apron and snatched a tea from the counter of drinks and moved towards the group of fae circling around the ring of chairs. Some fae split from the central crowd and split up into smaller groups at the tables of activities and books, Rhysand weighed his options before joining the circular group in the center. Everyone found a seat, a few openings here or there as she had a policy for always having a few extra seats in case anyone found their way into the meetings. The fae gathered around him were from a vast array of characters, and it intrigued him to find all of these people sharing one common factor.

The female he had assisted with the trays earlier cleared her throat before standing and smoothing out her dress and apron, addressing the entirety of the small building. “I would like to welcome everyone to tonight's meeting, a special welcome to those who are just joining us for the first time.”

Her eyes darted to Rhysands figure as she introduced herself to the crowd for those new members, he noted he wasn't the only new one to this meeting: three or four others were new as well. “As many of you know, I lost my mate and daughter to the attor attack a few years back, I sought an outlet for my grief and in doing so found others who had lost their loved ones like myself. So I took to arranging this weekly gathering as a way to help myself and others cope with the loss of loved ones.”

She was a good soul, Rhys thought, every word she spoke conveyed truth and honesty, something in her welcomed him and calmed him. Her very presence calmed the anxious storm in his chest and Rhys welcomed the feeling that had long been absent from his chest. A chorus of replies and greetings echoed back to her, she extended her attention back to the room and offered them a chance to introduce themselves. He recognized none of them, all small shopkeepers and civilians from all over Velaris, all had lost someone close to them.

One girl who had moved up here from the Court of Nightmares had lost her father who was a darkbringer in the recent war. A female who reminded him of Nuala and Cerridwen had lost her brother to an attor. A young male who had lost his baby sister in the attack when a building had partially crushed him and he could do nothing as the toddler female was swept up by the creatures, their parents had long since passed, their mother in childbirth and their father a few months later due to grief.

Then came Rhysands turn to speak. All eyes turned to him, and he felt the prickling of his anxiety nipping at him. He smiled back at everyone sadly with a small wave. “Many of you know me as your High Lord, if you don’t know me by name my name Is Rhysand. I was informed by my closest friends I should attend this meeting as I’m sure all of you know I recently lost my mate, wife, and our High Lady. I lost her to the birth of our son, my heir who passed away as well due to the difficult birth. I lost them both.”

Sad smiles and apologies found his ears as the head female in front of him prompted him to sit again, taking the center of the circle. “I am so sorry you have had to learn the loss of a mate and child, my lord, I am sorry you all had to experience the losses you have but we can work together to get through the pain and grief. We are all here to support each other through this horrible pain. I know many may not want to openly speak about their pain so you are welcomed to partake in the other forms of support we have here.”

With her final comment everyone turned to their projects with a nod and some mumbled thanks. It was towards the end when they spoke about distractions and busying oneself to help cope, it had struck a chord in his brain; distractions could be handy for him he was sure but he couldn’t busy himself with court work or with his close family, he would feel too much of Feyre there. His thoughts drifted to things he could do to distract himself or busy himself, he had lost himself for so long in the thought he had barely noticed everyone beginning to rise and bid farewell to the sweet female who had so quickly accepted him into their small group despite the reason she lost her mate and child being his fault.

He was the last member to rise as she began to clean up the room, gathering the books and journals in her arms; she seemed lost in her own world until he approached her.

“Do you mind if I help with cleaning up?” He asked softly.

“Oh! Of course my lord!” She had chirped back, straining with the weight of the books in her arms.

“Here, let me carry those for you.” Rhysand had taken the books from her arms and hoisted them up against his chest.

She picked up the pens and pencils quickly, throwing them into a small bag. “Thank you my lord, just follow me with those please.”

He had followed behind her with a small smile on his face, she led him towards a small closet that had been filled with cabinets and shelves; she tucked the small box into one of the shelves and began taking small sections of books from his arms, tucking them on one of the many shelves.

He had helped her reset the entire cafe, sweep, wipe tables, and clean up the entire back of the cafe’s kitchen. The moon was high in the sky when she had finally waved him goodbye, the bell chiming above him as he opened the door to step out onto the cobblestone street. The roof of the estate he had gifted to Feyre could just be made out from where he stood outside of her cafe; He had practically abandoned the Estate, instead favoring it for the house at the top of the mountain. It had been awhile since he or anyone in the inner circle had stepped through the doors he considered, everyone had joined him back up at the house or in their own apartments across Velaris.

He had considered something she had said about the memory of the ones you lost, how the only way to cope was to face the memories and accept them. He had taken a deep breath before crossing the street and turning right at the corner where he would have turned left to head towards the steps. The road was quiet and he was a lone soul amidst a sea of grief as the wrought-iron fence that bordered the estate came into view. As if sensing its master the gates slowly creaked open, a picture of stars and swirls that mirrored the tattoos he and Feyre had shared. The fae lights of the estates flickered on as he walked up the small pathway to the grand front door, his breath caught in his throat as his hand made contact with the door handle. As if sensing his hesitation the door opened softly beckoning him to enter, every detail just in the entry hall had submerged him in the sense of Feyre; he felt like he was drowning as he turned out of the doorway and flitted back through the gates, both clicking closed behind him as he manifested his wings and took to the skies above Velaris.

+

Azriel was sitting at the island counter softly sipping on some chamomile when Rhysand had landed on the balcony. He nodded a greeting to the male, taking note of his disheveled appearance and tear stained cheeks. “How was the meeting?”

“I liked it, the host is a very sweet female. I’ll continue with attending.” Rhysand had answered matter of factly.

“She is incredibly sweet, I informed her of your possible attendance earlier this week. She tells everyone her mate was lost in the attor attack and he was but,” Azriel sighed. “He was one of my men, one of my spies.”

Rhysand poured himself a cup of tea from the lukewarm pot. “Sorry Az i know what it feels like when you lose one of your men.”

“It's my fault.” Azriel drew a breath in, “He was trying to get both of them to safety, had his daughter in his arms. I had called to him in a hurry to rejoin the fight. That split second he hesitated at my voice was what landed him in an attor’s grasp.she won't blame me for it as much as I have asked her to and apologized for it, she always says it is no one's fault but the Mother’s and fates. She's a strong female Rhys, I figured you could learn something from her to get you through this.”

Rhys nodded softly, sympathetic for his friend. “I did, even in just one night I did.”

Azriel had turned and raised a brow at him, Rhys just stared down into his cup and watched the steaming liquid swirl in it. “I went to the Estate after the meeting tonight.”

“Oh.” Azriel’s expression turned into one of shock.

“Yeah. She had said something early on in the meeting about only being able to cope with the memory of your lost one is by facing the memory of them. The estate is just down the road from her cafe, you can see the roof from her doorway.” Rhysand tilted his head and Azriel sucked in a breath.

“You went back to the estate?” Azriel whispered.

“I couldn't go inside, I stopped at the door.” Rhysand looked over to Azriel at his side.

Azriel’s eyes held a sad understanding in them as he nodded. “Still, I’m proud of you brother.”

“I think your friend will be a good help to me. I wouldn't have been able to do what I did tonight without her words, her understanding, and her gentleness with me.” Rhys offered Azriel the first genuine smile he’d had since Feyre’s passing.

Azriel offered a smile back and patted Rhys’s shoulder. “Have a good night brother. Love you.”

“Night Az. Love you too.” Rhys turned back to his glass as Azriel slipped from the kitchen and Rhys noted that Azriel had seemed to relax, his steps heavier than they had been for several weeks now.

Rhysand with a small smile downed the rest of the tea and slipped from the barstool, climbing up the steps of the hall and slipping into his bedroom. He had actually managed to get some decent sleep that night, he didn't awake in the middle of the night in a cold sweat and with a throbbing ache in the center of his chest.

+

The next few weeks seemed to fly by as Rhys continued to attend the support group; after each session he would walk to the estate, each time he would make it further and further into the house. On days when they had no sessions or on days, like today, when Rhys just found himself bored but without enough motivation to face the work in his study he would venture down to the streets of Velaris and into the small cafe; extending a hand under the pretense of ‘busying himself for a distraction’ and of course his sweet little shopkeep would accept him in with open arms.

This had become routine now, after several evenings spent baking and making drinks, the first night had set their friendship in motion and both were thankful for the other's steady presence in their lives. The first time Rhys had shown up to the small cafe early in hopes of helping her with setting up, only to find out the meeting had been canceled; she had attempted to inform him but with Azriel gone on a mission and his presence absent at the estate she had no way to inform him without climbing the thousands of steps, yet she gladly offered to let him help her with the evening rush and clean up.

Today had been rather slow, the bell above the door having not chimed for over an hour now, the two of them stood in the back while Rhysand told her stories of the Inner circle. She sat on the metal table, her feet swinging softly and Rhys leaned on his arms beside her; both of them were laughing till the front bell chime brought them out of their little bubble.

“One sec, let me take this order.” She smiled, putting her hand on his shoulder she pushed off the table and slipped through the door separating the kitchen from the front of the house.

Rhys smiled to himself as he heard her voice chime “What can I get for you today?”

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he heard the slightest bit of confusion and fest in her voice through the door. “Oh, Eolan! What's brought you in today? The meeting was canceled, I thought I informed you earlier this week?”

Rhys could feel her anxiety and fear in her voice, it made him uneasy and nervous; he knocked softly on her mental shields offering her his concern. ‘Whats wrong?’

‘Eolan, the male who was at your first meeting who lost his little sister in the attor attack, he's here and he seems very angry and on edge, seems to be directed at me. I know nothing further.’ She had answered at his mental caress.

‘Let me know if you feel I need to step in, I’ll stay out of view back here.’ Rhys nodded to himself and pulled from her mind.

He stuck to the wall, and moved slowly towards the door; staying out of the way of the small window he listened in on the conversation just on the other side of the thin wood.

“Are you even listening to me!”

“Eolan, your concerns are warranted and I do hear what you’re saying-”

“No! You dont! How can you befriend him, let him come to our meetings! Knowing what he's done, knowing he has inadvertently caused all of our losses!”

“Eolan, I warn you now. He is still our High Lord. I offer my services to all of Velaris, High Lord included, now Eolan. If you have problems with how I run my business and who I call my friend then you may leave now.” Her voice was firm this time and Rhysand was proud of her.

“You don't get it!” Eolan had barked back.

“I do. But-”

“No. You really dont. You don't hear the talk after meetings, the anger everyone has at you for letting him in. Haven't you noticed less and less coming to the group?”

“It's none of my business why people do and don't come to the meetings I choose to host for the betterment of Velaris, just like how it's none of your business who I choose to associate myself with.” She had gotten snippy with him, clearly losing her patience and it made Rhys smile ever so slightly, plus he had to fight back a snicker at it lest he give his position away.

“Listen Here-” A bang and her yelp blurred Rhys’s vision as he slammed the door open.

He was greeted by Eolan pulling her halfway across the counter, his eyes flitted to Rhys for a split second as his anger turned to fear and he froze. It was easy, Rhys thought to himself, infiltrating his mind, that is; smooth and simple as his claws dug into the pathetic male that saw fit to threaten one of his friends, one of his females with ease.

He raked the talons along the male's mind with the intention of making him let her go, Eolan had begun to tremble as he released the smaller female from his grasp; Eolan found himself frozen in his position and Rhys stalked forward a few steps, his eyes narrowed and she turned to him with worry written on her face.

She took a few steps forward, her hand coming to rest in the center of his chest; pulling him from his anger and making him look down at her in concern. “You okay?”

“I'm fine Rhysand, though I'm sure he's not. You can let him go, I’m sure you've scared him enough to send him running with his tail between his legs.” She huffed looking over her shoulder with a glare towards the other male, her nose wrinkling ever so slightly that it made Rhys note the reaction with the faintest tilt of his lips.

“Plus he’s pissed himself in fear and now I have to clean his mess.” She grumbled distaste visible are her eyes narrowed on the trembling male.

“I'll have it dealt with, we can close the shop for the evening and go have dinner at the house.”Rhys extended the offer.

“I’d love to really but unlike you I can't drop whatever I'm doing, I run the cafe to make money if i close down for the rest of the evening i'll lose the profit.” She crossed her arms, looking up at him with one brow raised.

“You don't have to worry about that, you know? I can order enough food for the house to cover the lost profit if it matters that much.” Rhys countered and she sighed.

“We can have this argument at a later date, when not in front of guests. Seriously though Rhysand you can let him go I doubt he’ll be any further of a threat.” She waved it off watching as the male towering over her pouted like a scorned puppy.

“Fine, I was looking forward to misting him though.” Rhys pouted before turning a pointed glare to the male in his mental grasp.

She rolled her eyes moving around the males towards the doored off staircase that led upstairs to her apartment above, Rhys watched as she disappeared up the staircase until the door clicked close behind her again. His gaze fell back on the male, a darkness lingering there.

“You're lucky she has spare pity for you. Because I don’t. No civilian in my court will threaten another. Ill let you walk this time since you've already embarrassed yourself thoroughly, if this ever happens again though, I look forward to seeing you.” He narrowed his eyes, raking the talons along the malleable thing that was Eolan’s mind, just deep enough that that surface scratches would scar; the slightest everlasting reminder of Rhysand’s threat over the other male.

As soon as Rhys’ talons were out of the other male’s head Eolan took several steps back, eyes wide and his entire body trembling. “You- Your fucking crazy!”

Crazy he might be, but he had taken an interest in the female upstairs and however fucked it mightve been she had struck a chord in him so deeply that the ache of loosing Feyre had lessened. He had lost Feyre, had almost lost both of his brothers to Hybern and other forces on more than one occasion, had almost lost Mor, and had lost Amren for a time; he had almost lost everyone close to him on multiple occasions and was planning on not letting the same happen to her, no matter what he had to do. So if he seemed crazy so be it. If he had to dip into darker places of his own mind to protect her, so be it if she wasn't around to see.

“Well if I’m crazy, so fucking be it, im not letting her come to any harm but you however may for that insult.” Rhys growled, second guessing his choice and Eolan jumped trying to scramble out the front door.

Rhy sunk his talons back into the lesser male's mind, just enough to keep him quiet and still. With a dark grin Rhys stalked across the floor to the closed off stairway, he reached out for the iron door handle, turned to look at the frozen male and called up the stairs; the faint sound of a shower echoing into the empty cafe.

“Darling? How long till you are ready? I want to let everyone know when to expect us.” Rhys called out, holding eye contact with the male across the room from him.

Both males knew whatever her answer was, would be the deciding factor in Eolan’s fate.

“Mmmm,” she hummed, “Probably in about 15-20 minutes.”

Rhys smiled, something wicked and dark in the depths of it. “Alright darling take your time, I’ll be down here cleaning up.”

Rhys closed the door again, a sickly sweet grin on his face as darkness seeped into the cafe from every crevice. When no one could see in or out of the cafe, Rhys took a few steps forward till he was back in front of the trembling smaller male.

“I would apologize for what I'm about to do, but then again I feel it's deserved.” Rhys’s talons sunk their way into the other’s mind and Rhys greeted the other male’s eyes rolling into the back of his head with a sneer.

Misting was never pretty, it was brutal, dark, and savage; but to Rhys it was an oh so welcomed feeling. With a snap of Rhys’s fingers the male in front of him evaporated into a black ash like smoke, Rhys rolled his shoulders and popped his neck; looking at the mess on the floor Rhys simply snapped his fingers again removing any and all evidence of what had happened earlier.

Rhys moved to lean against the counter, finicking with his cufflinks when he heard heels click slowly down the stairs. His head perked up just as the door opened, his darling clad in a shimmery black dress that accentuated all the right curves; Rhys practically purred at the view, she would blend right in with Nesta and Mor at the table, like she had belonged there the entire time.

She took Rhys’s extended elbow, offering him a small smile. Rhys led her out the door, placing his free hand on her own hand clasped on his forearm. “Come darling, I want to show you something before we attend dinner.”

“Alright?”she questioned with a head tilt that Rhys had always found amusing since he had met her all those weeks ago.

Truth be told Rhys had an alternative motive in what he was showing her, tonight had just solidified his train of thought. Rhys took a shaky breath and began leading her down the street.

“Can I get a hint?” She asked softly.

“It's not really a hint but I can offer you an explanation. If that works for you?” Rhys countered.

“I’ll take it.” She giggled.

“I apologize for being the reason you were in danger earlier-” He started

“Rhys-” She attempted to interrupt, but Rhys cut her back off.

“No, let me say my piece please.” He begged softly.

“Ok. Sorry.” She offered.

“No worries Darling, as I was saying. I feel it is my fault you were in danger earlier and I’d like to apologize for that, but I find myself concerned with more than just that male from earlier.”

“Really Rhys, thank you for stepping in but he was no true threat.”she smiled up at him as they turned a corner.

“I wish that were true darling but remember I saw inside his mind, while he might have been trembling in my grasp his true intentions were in fact to harm you if you didn’t comply with his demands.” Rhys looked down, worry on his face and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I thought it was simply a childish farce if I'm being honest.” Her breath caught in her throat as she swallowed the breath stuck in her throat.

“Sadly no, and that's why I wish to show you this surprise. It's my fault you have become a target and thus I feel I should be the one to protect you.” Rhys extended his acknowledgement as he came to a stop in front of the estate.

She raised a brow at him as he led her through the wrought-iron gate and up the steps of the porch. He pushed the door open, leading her into a now barren estate. He stood behind her hands firmly on her shoulders, she looked back at him over the left one with a raised brow.

He had removed everything from the estate in the last week or so, moving it all to the vaults in the mountain underneath the House of Wind. He began to tour her through the empty halls, a shaky hand pressed firmly to the dip in her back.

“I've thought about this a bit, tonight was only a confirmation. I was planning to just extend this invitation present combo to you originally as a thank you for everything you have done for me. Now however, I would like to reword my offer.” Rhys sighed and tucked his chin to his chest almost like he was disappointed with himself and had to steel himself for whatever words were going to fall out of his mouth.

“Honestly, with the events of tonight I would much rather change my offer but the idea is nonsensical and this makes the most sense to me.” He shook his head, disagreeing with himself.

“Rhys, darling, you are rambling.” She smiled softly to him and turned to place a hand just above his elbow as an act to comfort him.

“Thank you darling, I’ll get back to my point.” He cleared his throat. “I’d like to offer you the estate. I moved everything to the vaults but I’d like to take you either to them to let you sort through stuff you’d like to or I can accompany you on a shopping trip. Now I know it is sudden and you are probably wanting to deny my offer, but let me put it this way: I’ve put lots of thought into this. First off I feel bad that the estate is just sitting there and you are in a one bed apartment above your shop that is also your makeshift office, since you sold your other apartment when your mate died. I would like to keep you safe due to my presence being what has put you in danger and I considered having you moved to the House of Wind I realized you aren’t necessarily close to anyone up there yet, besides Azriel but he will be away for the next few weeks, and would have no reliable way to the shop if I was preoccupied with my duties as High Lord. SO, I thought about what I could do about that little issue and it crossed my mind that the estate I was already going to offer you does in fact have an enchantment on the gate so that no one with ill intentions will be able to pass through, Thus I figured it would be the ebay course of action to move you into the estate.” Rhys smiled brightly having finally made his point.

“Rhys, I can’t-” She had started to counter.

“Sure you can, I’m offering so of course you can.” His smile faltered ever so slightly.

“No, Rhys I mean, There's no way I could pay the rent of this place or eleven pay the utilities on it.” She had begun to fiss over the offer, thinking into the little details.

“I’ll take care of it, it is my gift to you anyways.” Rhys shrugged.

“You can’t possibly-” She had started to shut his offer down again when Rhys squashed her with a finger to her lips.

“I respect you, darling, so I refuse to use any of my abilities on you,”She winced at his words. “Which is why I am hoping you just accept my offer now as is so I don’t have to command you too as your high lord. I truly just want to keep you safe since I can't be here all the time and this would satiate my anxiety.” Rhys smiled brightly.

“I- Okay, out of my respect for you I’ll accept your offer of the estate.” She had seemed shocked or maybe taken aback, Rhys couldn’t quite read the expression on her face.

“I’m not trying to be a dick or an asshole or anything, I hope you understand that I do truly want you to be safe.” Rhys gave her a small smile in offering.

“I know Rhys, just thank you it's beautiful.” She gave him a small smile before looking at the grain of the wooden floor.

“Of course darling, now come, we have a dinner to attend. We can begin moving your stuff over tomorrow and then go shopping or perusing the vaults.” Rhys proudly swept her out of the estate and up into the crisp night air.

+

A weight on Rhysand’s chest had been lifted, he had left one crucial detail out of what he had told her. While yes the gate wouldn’t let anyone with ill intentions pass through, it would also inform him of who it was trying to harm her. That information was an important part of Rhys’s plan to protect this new female that had helped heal the gaping wound in his chest.

The first dinner with the rest of his circle had gone well and several months had passed since, Azriel had been just overall ecstatic to see her. Mor and Amren shared some looks between each other but overall accepted her presence in the dining hall with joy especially when the topic of her no bake cookies were brought up, apparently in Amren’s switch to regular fae foods she had a rough time but found herself able to nibble on the cookies after stumbling into her shop one day. Nesta and Elain didn't speak the entire meal, just sat in silence while eying the female in their sister’s spot. Cassian had been standoffish at first, torn between his brother and his mates reactions but had ultimately warmed up to her engaging in chit-chat and batting away Nesta’s elbow to his ribs.

After he had retreated to his study for the evening and after he had walked her back to the cafe with the promise he would be there early to help with the transition to the estate, Azriel and Cassian had slipped into his office; Cassian with furrowed brows and Azriel with a worry in his eyes.

“What's your intention with her, Rhys?” Was all Cassian had started with.

“What do you mean?” He countered with a laugh at the end of his question.

“Cassian made his point to me earlier and as you know Rhys I feel responsible for the position she is in now. So her wellbeing matters to me more than I would like to admit, Cassian and I would like to know your intentions with her.” Azriel had sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright fine, sit down. I’ll explain everything to you two.” Rhys growled and motioned to the two leather chairs opposite his desk.

He had somehow laid out his plan for the other two to dissect, thinking neither of the males before him would necessarily approve but to his surprise they exchanged glances between each other and with a nod agreed to assist him. Thus started the long game of assuring the safety of the female all three were sure would become their next High Lady.

Over the next couple months Rhysand eased himself into crafting a love life with her, subtly protective of her shooting glares to anyone that seemed to give them looks when they would walk through Velaris. Everytime he would feel the gates wards surge, an image of whoever was trying to get to his darling would cross his mind. A quick note to Azriel or Cassian, whoever wasn't busy or on a mission, would have the assailant swept away silently in the depths of the night.

It had been over a year before she made any note of the disappearances, and Rhys’s spine straightened when she had mumbled something to him ,about less attendees to their grief support meetings, one evening after cleaning up.

“Have you noticed we have had less people coming to the meetings? I tried to turn a journal into one of them the other day thinking they just stopped coming but even their family said they hadn't seen them for awhile themselves that they had just up and left a note saying they were offered a home in Spring Court now that it's starting to rebuild and needs more citizens. Isn’t that neat Rhys? You never told me that was happening, how could you leave that out of your stories to me? I could have pitched in to offer some of my baked goods for those relocating!” She had scolded as she pushed in a chair and began wiping a table down.

Rhysand’s back was ramrod straight as he let out an awkward chuckle. “Apologies darling, it must have slipped my mind. I thought I had informed you already.”

He was just relieved the lie had been taken seriously by everyone included.

“It's alright darling, you are a super busy and important male you don't need to tell me every detail.” She smiled. “I was just surprised by them leaving without any word.”

He rounded a table and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Here darling let me, I have a meeting with Cass and Az tonight about a debriefing from their most recent mission. Let me walk you back to your estate before I leave?”

She smiled brightly up at him. “Thank you Rhys.”

“Of course Darling.” He smiled back, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I'll be right back, I am going to slip into the bathroom for just a moment darling.”

“Hurry,” she chirped with a laugh “I’ll grab our coats from upstairs.”

In the bathroom Rhys gripped at the ceramic sink with a deep breath he reached out to Azriel and Cassian. Hearing their acknowledgments as he slipped into their minds he smiled brightly telling them to come up to his office for a quick meeting tonight. He felt the two agree and retreated from their minds, washing his hands in the warm water of the sink to give the illusion to her he had done exactly what he said he was doing.

+

Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel stood in a circle around Rhysand’s desk. Glasses in hand as Rhys informed them the ploy had worked without a flaw. The three cheered before beginning to talk about the next steps in the plan.

“She's been talking less at meetings, mainly just listening and offering her input to others. She's become more distant with scheduling the meetings themselves, letting more time go between them. I think it's only a matter of time before they stop completely. Once that happens then we move into the next step. That's when I'll confess and offer her the position of High Lady.” Rhys confirmed.

The other two males nodded as well, confirming their agreement.

“I don’t like what we have done to get here, I don’t like the sacrifices made but they were made to protect her and I can think of no better place for her safety than by my side. As my high lady.” Rhys downed his glass and the other two yelled their agreement and followed his action of downing the drink.

+

It hadn’t taken Rhys long at all to saunter down to the estate after the meeting with the other two males had concluded, he would stalk up the stairs of the quiet estate and slip into bed beside her; rousing her from her slumber to show her how thankful he was for her to give him a chance, how thankful he was he would get to love her, just like he had done almost every night like it was a routine.

Rhys however, was surprised to find every light in the estate on and even more surprised to find her sniffling on the stairs. His blood raged for a minute before he calmed himself the best he could as he called out to her. “Darling? What's wrong? What happened?”

“I-I think I want to stop hosting the meetings.” She sniffled.

“Why darling? What happened?” Rhys took a few soft steps forward, joining to sit beside her on the wooden staircase, he pressed her ever so gently into his shoulder, one hand rubbing her back.

“People aren’t really coming anymore for one, two I don't really feel the connection to it I once did, and three is that there will soon be something else that requires the energy and attention I'm giving the group.” She choked on another sob and Rhys pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“What's that love? What’s going to pull your attention like that?” Rhys crooned, his voice as soft as he could make it.

“I- it just feels so wrong like this Rhys, I feel like I betrayed them with this.” She sobbed and Rhys shushed her.

“Ssssshhhh, darling, it's okay you’re rambling darling. What has you so worked up?” Rhys ran his other hand through her hair, an attempt to calm her and himself as his anxiety began to rear its head.

“I- Rhys I’m pregnant. I feel like it's betraying our other halves-” another sob wracked her body.

Rhys joined her in crying, silent trails down his own cheeks. “It’s not darling trust me, Feyre made me promise I’d move on with my life after her. It's the only thing that made me agree to attend your group and I thank the mother everyday for putting you in my path, because I know the mother gives those that deserve it second chances and you darling deserve every single one.” Rhys tried to soothe her.

“You really think so?” She sniffled as Rhys wiped her face.

“I know so, cause she brought me you.” Rhys whispered.

So he would have to move the plan up, the mother worked in strange ways sure, but this was an unexpected turn.

She smiled softly at Rhys as he wiped the last tears from her face. “Marry me then, I'll make you High Lady. Both you and our child will be kept safe and away from harm, you will have everything you want or need, both of you. I- I just want you, no need you, by my side. Please darling.”

“O-okay.” She nodded and sniffled, letting Rhys sweep her up in her arms and carry her to the bed.

He tucked her in softly kissing her forehead before stepping into the closet of his belongings to change into some loose sleeping pants. She had passed out when he finally crawled into bed next to her, pulling her close to his chest.

Yes, there were many things Rhysand regretted but this was not one of them. The steps he took to insure a second chance with the female he now held close to his chest was not something he would regret. The lives he had taken and the minds he had misted to ensure her safety were not amongst that list. Yes, he regretted many things, but she would not be one of them

[simplymarr]

Chapter one.

summary: vincent renzi x fem!reader.

A young law student is navigating her last year in university, where she meets a misteryous french professor that is going to help her getting her thesis done. A strong chemistry and a love for books and hard work it's what gets them to work so well with each other. But how much are they going to resist when temptation arrives?

warnings: age gap (legal ofc) he's 43 and she's 26. Other that that, none (yet).

London. 8 am and a room full of people on a rainy day. Cold fingers on the desk, waiting for something to happen.

I looked over and the clock was still; maybe it was broken or maybe the time was way too slow in the morning. Even for me.

Today it was the last-first day i was going to have on that university. Five long years studying law, yet it felt like i was still a stranger in that big, cold classroom.

I was, finally, going to get my thesis done. No more wasting time, no more fear. I had to be strong.

How difficult could it be?

The world with its unique, hidden irony seemed to have answered my question when, all of a sudden, he walked through that old, wooden door.

Mature, maybe in his early forties. Tall but not too much; quite skinny. Long neck and serious countenance. Silver hair, some strands fell on his forehead as he walked across the room until he reached his desk. His polished clothes didn't look wet even though it was raining, and even for me to be so far away from him i could, somehow, sense that he smelled like cigarrettes and old fashioned, classic cologne.

Professor Vincent Renzi was his name.

He came from France. He said that he had recently won a case in the city, and that a colleague of his needed him to replace him for a few months at the university. A two-hour weekly class and, most importantly,

he was in charge of correcting some of the theses.

I hesitated the rest of the class, unsure of what was going to happen. Would he be easy on me? or would he be an idiot? After all, all male professors in law school seemed to treat women like they were not smart enough to be there. Or worse, like they fucked their way to the top.

Suddenly my feet stepped on earth again when i felt a deep voice making, in a strong french accent, a question that no one dared to answer.

"So, has anyone already started working on their thesis?"

Silence.

Then, for inertia or maybe an obscure, unconscious desire to be seen by his blue eyes i raised my hand.

He smiled at me; perhaps relieved that he hadn't been ignored. Little wrinkles formed on each side of his mouth as he spoke:

"Great, at least someone is doing their job. Now, enlighten me, please".

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

I tried to leave as soon as the class ended.

Maybe it was the shame, the blushed cheeks as i explained to him the central themes of the thesis. For the first time, i felt like my tongue wasn't mine as the words kept coming out of my mouth, but i felt grateful for that.

However, due to how far away i was from the exit, i was the last one to leave. I slid between each seat until i reached the door where, luckily for me, he was standing, waiting.

"That was good. Very good actually". He said as he reached out for a pack of cigarettes between his pockets.

I stuttered.

"Well, thank you. There's still some issues i need to fix, you know. References and stuff". I tried, without luck, to sound as calm as possible.

"That's why im here". He said, staid but in a soft tone.

As he left the building and got into his car, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and lighting a cigarette, i couldn't help but wonder

what the hell was i getting into.

next chapter soon

[thepastisalreadywritten]

By Brian Melley, AP News

13 January 2024

LONDON (AP) — An unlikely refugee from the war in Ukraine — a rare Asiatic black bear — arrived at his new home in Scotland on Friday and quickly took to a meal of cucumbers and watermelon.

The 12-year-old Yampil was named for a village in the Donetsk region where he was one of the few survivors found by Ukrainian troops in the remains of a bombed-out private zoo.

Yampil, who had previously been called Borya, was discovered by soldiers who recaptured the devastated city of Lyman during the Kharkiv counteroffensive in the fall of 2022, said Yegor Yakovlev of Save Wild, who was among the first of many people who led the bear to a new life.

The bear was found in a menagerie that had long been abandoned by its owners.

Almost all the other animals had died of hunger, thirst or were struck by bullets or shrapnel and some were eaten by Russian troops.

Yampil narrowly missed the same fate, suffering a concussion from a projectile that landed nearby.

“The bear miraculously survived,” said Yakovlev, also director of the White Rock Bear Shelter, where the bear recovered.

“Our fighters did not know what to do with him, so they started looking for rescue.”

What followed was an odyssey that your average bear rarely makes, as he was moved to Kyiv for veterinary care and rehab, then shipped to a zoo in Poland, then to an animal rescue in Belgium, where he spent the past seven months, before landing in the United Kingdom.

Brian Curran, owner of Five Sisters Zoo in West Calder, Scotland, said his heart broke when he learned of the plight of the threatened Asiatic black bear.

“He was in terrible condition; five more days and they wouldn’t have been able to save him,” Curran said. “We were just so amazed he was still alive and well.”

The bear was skinny but not malnourished when he was found, said Frederik Thoelen, a biologist at the Nature Help Center in Belgium.

He now is estimated to weigh a healthy 440 pounds (200 kilograms), Thoelen said.

The nature center in Belgium, which usually treats injured wildlife and returns them to their natural settings, has taken several animals rescued from the war in Ukraine, including a wolf, a caracal cat and four lions, though those animals had not experienced the ordeal Yampil endured.

It was remarkable how calm Yampil was when he arrived in Belgium, Thoelen said.

The bear was trained in the past two weeks to move from his enclosure to the crate that would transport him across Belgium to Calais, France, then across the English Channel on a ferry to Scotland.

Pastries from a local bakery were used for good measure to lure him Thursday into the cage, where he was sedated for the journey.

“We want to use the food that he likes most, and for most bears — and for people also — it’s sweet, unhealthy foods,” Thoelen said.

Thoelen had a sense of the bear’s weight as he drove the crate to the port.

“Every time when we had a red light or a traffic jam, when the bear moved a little bit, you could feel the van moving also,” he said.

“You could feel it was a heavy animal in the back of the car.”

Yampil arrived at the zoo about 15 miles (25 kilometers) west of Edinburgh and immediately made himself at home.

He feasted on cukes — said to be his favorite food — and melon, said Adam Welsh, who works at Five Sisters.

The Asiatic black bear is listed on the International Union for Conservation of Nature’s Red List of Threatened Species as vulnerable to extinction in the wild, where it can be found in central and southern Asia, Russia, and Japan.

It’s known for the distinctive white crescent patch on its chest that gives it the nickname moon bear. It can live for up to 30 years in zoos.

It’s not clear if the bear will go into hibernation. The winter has been warmer than usual but colder days are on the horizon.

The zoo has other bears, but Yampil is the only Asian bear and unique in other ways.

“We’ve had circus bears, for example, that have been rescued,” Welsh said.

“We’ve had bears rescued from places like roadside restaurants where they’ve been used as kind of roadside attractions and been kept in subpar conditions. But this is the first time that we’ve worked with an animal that’s been rescued from a war zone.”

Scottish zoo welcomes black bear which survived war in Ukraine

13 January 2024

🖤🐻🤎

[peachyloveswriting]

Hello there!

I have a Trigun Stampede, Millions Knives x female plant reader request, pretty please.

(If it interests you, is not too much trouble, and if you have the time, of course.)

Millions Knives x female plant reader, who was captured by humans via some obscure old technology. She can heal via her blood, which the humans frequently harvest from her without her consent, leaving her with many scars from needles, surgical equipment, etc, and she has the darkest bags under her eyes and just exudes utter exhaustion. 

Knives was just doing his usual thing, stalking after his brother and blowing through yet another town in the process, when he accidentally stumbles upon her in her cage as the humans attempt to take her with them as they run. The humans here refer to her as “it” and a “tool,” and Knives is enraged.

He saves her, freeing her from her cage and soothing her? I’d love to see him discover her in her cage, and his reaction to how the humans treat her, and how he helps her heal after saving her?

From cages to tubes -- (Knives)

Summary: Knives comes across another plant locked away in a facility, tortured and used by humans.

Knives next target was supposed to be the city of May, he'd gone through every bit of information before he ever even stepped foot inside that town. Yet something stopped him in his tracks anyways.

A plant testing facility?

He'd never heard of such a thing.

Staring at the grey metal door, he contemplated his actions for just a moment, wondering what he might find inside. Hopefully this was the jackpot, where he would find multiple plants in one space. The possibilities were too endless...

Screams erupt from inside, his metal tendrils ripping the door off its hinges as he steps through. The place is dark and nasty, humans scatter their hands reaching for their radios and voices frantic.

"Code 10! Code 10! Grab it, we can't leave it behind!"

It? Curious, Knives continued forward, killing any human along the way, coating the floor and walls with blood. He began to notice that the further he traveled in the more strange this place became. Lining the walls were plants in their tanks, each one with a pad of vitals beside it. Each one was labeled with the word experiment and they were all dead.

Something was off about this place, really off. He had to know more.

Travelling further in, Knives found what seemed like a central hub. Hundreds of people were rushing around, bodies falling to the floor in seconds. He didn't even bat an eye at the people trying to harm him, they caused him no problems. What caused him inner turmoil was this "it." He kept hearing about. It was a tool, he'd heard. It just wasn't sitting right with him, like they were talking about a living thing, not an it or a tool.

Cleaning through the last of them, he finds the door they had been guarding. Tearing it off, he discards it and steps inside.

"C'mon. Grab it! We can't let anyone get their hands on this!" A voice snaps.

Knives steps closer to the voice, his eyes sharp and narrowing. "Why not?" His voice is smooth, scarily so.

The man shouting orders snaps his head around to look up at Knives in fear, his body trembling. Whimpers fall from his lips as Knives towers over him, his patience beginning to wear thin.

"Speak!" He tells with sudden malice.

Abruptly, there's a crash close by. Another voice screams out in pain, aloud sobs following after. Suddenly the man before him becomes an after thought and his body falls limply to the floor. Stepping past him, Knives comes up to another man, this one younger than the last.

He tugs frantically at a large cage, the outline of the crying voice is inside.

His blades slice through the last human as he lowers himself to peer inside the cage. The form shakes and trembles inside but he can't seem to get a good look. Taking the top of the cage he sets it upright from being knocked to its side.

Light suddenly illuminates the figure inside, the intricate patterns of his kind flowing all along its body, littered by cuts and scars.

He feels breathless as he tears the cage open, frantically reaching for you. A call of pain cuts through the air as he grabs your wrist and you pull yourself away.

"My god. What have they done to you?" He mutters. You look over at him, trembling in fear.

"It's okay. I'm just like you." He slowly extends his hand to you as an offer. "I'll take you away from here where you'll never be hurt again. I promise."

He watches your gaze softly flicker between his face and his hand, before you tenderly rest your hand in his. "That's right." He says, softly pulling you from the cage. "Come with me. I'll make you good again."

Carefully scooping your frail body into his arms, he begins to make his way out of the facility, disappointed that he has no one to take his anger out on.

As he walks away, he looks down at you. "My name is Knives, you'll be answering too me from now on."

—⁠☆

"How are you feeling?"

You gaze down at Knives through the glass, your hands coming to rest up against it. "Better than before."

He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. "Good. Staying there for a week should get you back to normal." He casts his gaze to a shorter, mostly bald, human. "Con'rad will monitor your vitals and 'keep you company'. I'll be gone often but expect to see me a lot."

You give him a nod. "So, what exactly is this... Thing?"

You look up at where the cords attach then connect to your body.

"I'll explain that." Con'rad starts. "The tube you're in is filled with a liquid that should allow your body to fuller regather itself. Typically we use these to manufacture independents however these can also be used for purposes much like this. The process is quick and you'll be in a sleep-like state until you fully recover."

Knives nods. "In short, it heals you."

"Oh, okay." You take a moment to collect your thoughts before you meet Knives' gaze. "Thank you for saving me."

It almost looks like his stoicism face softens before he speaks. "Of course. I'll do whatever I can to save my people."

[valleydean]

Sweet Science [a Heavyweight timestamp]

Part of 12 Days of Smutmas Read on AO3 | Read Heavyweight For River

Part One: Sleigh/Slay

These days, most of the fans stood outside the arena, straining their ears in an attempt to hear the commentator’s booming voice from within over the honking car horns on the street. Somehow, they would find out the results of the bout and swarm beneath the marquee for the victor’s autograph—for a chance to relive even a fraction of the glitz and glamor that had slipped from New York’s grasp and shattered on the floor like a delicate pearl necklace.

In hindsight, the roar of the 1920s was always bound to be silenced. The ‘30s were more of a whimper.

Supper clubs shuttered their doors. Speakeasies were a memory of the past since the repeal of Volstead. Central Park was a city within a city, made of tents and campfires, as more people failed to pay their rent. Most couldn’t afford to feed their children. It went without saying that they no longer had the money to spend on frivolous things like tickets to boxing bouts.

Castiel had certainly felt the difference in his own wallet. Even as a four-year heavyweight world champion, the money was dwindling. The cash prizes were mere fractions of what they had once been. All over the country, fighters had to hang up their gloves and find day work in the factories and mills, vying for spare cash along with the rest of the masses huddled at the tall fences, hands covered in soot and oil.

Dean had even started picking up shifts at the car garage beneath Winchester’s Gym. Castiel had found himself alongside Jack in the shipyards of Brooklyn more than once, hauling imported goods from the barges to trucks. There, no one bat an eye at him. He was treated the same as everyone else who had been fortunate enough to find a wage for the day.

It was safe to say the glory days of boxing were over.

But, walking through the crowd of fans under the marquee beside Dean that night, it was easy to pretend they were still in the halcyon heyday of the sport. Dean had won his bout by knockout in the ninth round. There hadn’t even been the need for an eight count. The commentator had cheered through the speakers, “Pretty Boy Winchester slays the competition and wins the night!”

The crowd pressed in, practically throwing themselves over the barriers, waving pens and pieces of paper. All of them were wrapped up in patched coats and mended, dulled clothes that were at least five years old.

“Mr. Winchester! Mr. Winchester!” they shouted, trying to get his attention. Flashes from handheld cameras washed out the bandages and red cuts on Dean’s face in bursts. Stars were in Castiel’s eyes just from looking at him.

“Mr. Novak! Over here!”

Castiel scribbled his name on whatever was shoved into his face as quickly as he could. Distantly, he wondered how many of these autographs would be sold to make ends meat. Usually, he’d be happy to help feed a family for a day or two with nothing but his signature, but not tonight.

Half of his attention was constantly on the car waiting for them in front of the sidewalk. He needed to get home to pack. It was late, and he and Dean had planned to get up early to drive upstate.

In lieu of Christmas gifts that year, he and Dean had rented a room at a mountain house an hour outside of Manhattan. They would be there through the New Year. It would do them well, Castiel thought, to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city for a while. Besides, now that Sam and his wife, Eileen, had moved back in, in conjunction with working so much, it had been some time since Castiel had Dean all to himself. He was looking forward to it.

More than that, he was impatient for it. Logically, he knew rushing Dean wouldn’t bring the morning any faster, but it was worth a shot.

He shot Dean a look, silently telling him it was time to go. Dean seemed to get the message. He took a step back from the barrier and the hands reaching for him and shouted, “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

The crowd delighted in that, even though it was the day after Christmas.

Castiel waved toward them in general before beelining to the rumbling car. Exhaust coughed out of it into the late December air. Dirty snowbanks melted to slush on the sidewalks. He slipped into the backseat and shimmied over to the far door. Dean got in after him. The driver closed the door after him and started walking around the car. While he was out of sight, Dean grabbed Castiel by the tie and yanked him in for a hard kiss. Castiel melted into it.

He lingered close to Dean’s lips while he said, “Congratulations.”

The driver’s door clicked open, and Dean pulled away. It was a shame. Dean was so warm. The chill of the night hadn’t left Castiel’s bones yet. He rubbed his hands together. Out of sight from the front seat, Dean clasped his hand atop Castiel’s thigh and dragged it up and down.

The car started moving.

“Extra cash is gonna come in handy for New Year’s, huh?” Dean said, patting his breast pocket where the envelope of his earnings was stored. After his team was paid, he was left with a little left than $100. “I mean, gonna have to set some aside so Sammy and Eileen can buy groceries for the week, but—” He shrugged, like it was of little consequence.

Dean was no stranger to living with limited funds. He’d done it for most of his life. But Castiel had thought those days had been over for him. Dean deserved to not have to worry about such things.

“We can have a nice dinner at the inn’s restaurant. My treat,” Dean finished with a grin.

Castiel tried to smile at that, despite the guilt mixing inside of him at the reminder of their limited funds.

There was something Castiel had wanted to tell Dean during their trip, but he didn’t know how Dean would take it. After all, it wasn’t exactly the ideal time to retire.

But it wasn’t just the sport of boxing that had crested its prime. Castiel had, too. He was thirty-three years old, and every punch, every blow, every injury was taking a toll on his body more than it had before. His recovery time seemed to take longer after every bout, and many of the aches remained inside his body, becoming a part of his muscles and bones. He was getting slower, more tired. He’d even fractured his jaw again last year, and the bone still hurt when it was cold out.

He was getting old. At least, too old to be a professional athlete. It had taken a long time for him to let go of his pride and admit that to himself. After that, it was easy to make the decision.

He’d already told Michael and the rest of the Garrison team: next year would be his last.

It was time for a new champion to take his place.

He’d been putting off breaking the news to Dean. But he was running out of time. Balthazar and Gabriel were set to make the announcement public in the first week of the year. Castiel was tempted to let Dean find out in the papers, but that would only make Dean angrier. It was probably a bad idea.

“Well, then I’ll buy the most expensive thing on the menu,” Castiel attempted to joke.

Dean scoffed out a laugh. He squeezed Castiel’s leg and let his hand rest there, high up. His thumb stroked the inside of Castiel’s thigh.

The motion made all the dread of telling Dean about retiring drain away, at least for the moment. Castiel only focused on the heat of Dean’s touch. He met Dean’s eyes, seeing the suggestive curve of Dean’s lips and the way his eyes darkened.

Castiel became even more impatient to get Dean alone for days.

///

Bear Mountain House was a stone and wood structure in New York’s section of the Appalachian Trail. The spacious grounds were home to scenic overlooks, hiking trails in the warmer months, an ice-skating rink, and hunting and fishing cabins.

As Dean’s Chevrolet wound its way up the mountain, Castiel watched men coming in and out of the camps of hired workers. They tended to the grounds and roads, blasted rocks from the mountain to load into trucks to take the overlook tower they were constructing at the summit. Most of them were no doubt from the city, sending money home to their families when they could.

In the picnic area, the laborers huddled over the bowls of soup and bread that were being ladled out from a giant pot for lunch. There was a line of more hungry men waiting for their turn. The fluffy snow blanketing the mountain range was jarringly picturesque around them.

The view was much more fitting when they reached the mountain house. The inside of the lobby was both rustic and opulent with its high ceilings and grand fireplaces. Carolers in overcoats serenading the guests the lounge area with an angelic rendition of Silent Night.

Their room, when they reached it, was expansive, with furniture made of light wood and tartan blankets on the bed. The walls were paneled, and paintings depicting nature hung from them. Across the room, velvet curtains were drawn open over the large window. Castiel put his bag on the bed closest to the door and wandered over to peer out at the vista.

The sky was clear blue over the barren, snow-covered trees. Without the obstruction of their leaves, Castiel could see a glimpse of the gray Hudson River. Mountains rose up in the blue distance. It felt like they were lifetimes away from the city.

In fact, so high up, he felt as if he was floating far above the entire world. On top of it.

It may very well be the final time he ever felt that way.

Below, people in winter gear waded through the snow. His eyes landed on specks of tourists sledding down an incline. Others were ice skating in the rink. But what drew his attention the most was the red sleigh gliding over the snow, its bright color sticking out like a neon light. Horses pulled it, giving the visitors inside a ride. Castiel could hear the jingle of its bells muffled by the window.

Behind him, Castiel heard Dean set his own bag on the bed and pace closer. Two warm arms wrapped around Castiel’s middle. Dean pressed his chest to Castiel’s back and pecked a kiss on the back of his neck. Then, he hooked his chin over Castiel’s shoulder to look out the window.

“Not bad,” he remarked. Then, a touch more excited, “Hey, check that out.”

“The sleigh?” Castiel asked.

He felt Dean nod. “That’s pretty awesome. We should do that.”

Castiel set his hands over Dean’s on his stomach. “We can do whatever you’d like,” he promised. “Later.”

Dean hummed. “You got something in mind in the meantime, baby?” His mouth, hotter now, was on the back of Castiel’s neck again.

One corner of Castiel’s lips pulled up. Anticipatory heat curled through his abdomen. He turned around in Dean’s arms, circled his own on Dean’s waist. He splayed his palms on the small of Dean’s back. “Yes,” he answered before kissing Dean deeply.

Dean groaned contentedly into it. He tightened his arms around Castiel and turned them around, their shoes and knees knocking together while Castiel let himself be led. The back of his legs hit against the bed. Dean lowered him down on top of the covers. Castiel’s legs were bent over the end of the mattress. He rounded one hand around the back of Dean’s neck, used his fingers to card through Dean’s hair. He kissed Dean’s face, careful to give gentle attention to the cuts and bruises.

Dean hummed when Castiel kissed the bruise on the bolt of Dean’s jaw. Dean always loved when Castiel kissed his wounds.

“I love you,” Castiel whispered to him. Even after all these years, it was a thrill just to say it.

“You a sleigh?” Dean asked, apropos of nothing. He lifted his head slightly, grinning salaciously down at Castiel, who frowned in question. “’Cause I’m about you ride you.”

Castiel sighed at the terrible joke. It only made Dean rumble more in laughter. Castiel felt the vibrations of it where their bodies were flush together.

“Fine,” Castiel relented, yanking at the back of Dean’s shirt. He played along, “We’ll need a slick surface for that.”

Dean wiggled his brows, his green eyes alight and beautiful. “Got just the thing.” He pressed another long kiss to Castiel’s lips before getting up with a grunt and moving to fish through his luggage.

Castiel shimmied up the bed and began unbuttoning his shirt. It wasn’t long until Dean was back. He tossed the jar of Vaseline on the bed and straddled Castiel’s lap. Dean unbuttoned Castiel’s shirt the rest of the way, kissing him again all the while.

Castiel took his time with Dean, just because he could.

Outside, the tinkling of the sleigh bells rang through the cold air.

[ankh-morporkianpostalworker]

Anatomy of a Hero - Samuel Vimes

He wanted to go home. He wanted it so much that he trembled at the thought. But if the price of that was selling good men to the night, if the price was filling those graves, if the price was not fighting with every trick he knew... Then it was too high. History finds a way? Well, it would have to come up with something good, because it was up against Sam Vimes now.

Terry Pratchett, Night Watch

Fantasy has created some truly remarkable characters, and it's fair to say that Samuel Vimes of the Discworld series is among them - and he's a personal favorite.

This is the first in a (sporadic) series of posts analyzing my favorite fantasy protagonists and what I think makes them work as characters and how they fit into their stories.

Samuel Vimes is the protagonist of eight of Terry Pratchett's seminal Discworld novels - specifically, Guards! Guards!, Men at Arms, Feet of Clay, Jingo, Fifth Elephant, Night Watch, Thud!, and Snuff. These novels make up what is colloquially referred to as the City Watch series, and they answer the question "what if the city guard in a fantasy series got stuff done?"

Vimes is the head of the Ankh-Morpork City Watch and starts off as a parody of the drunken watch captain, literally waking up in a gutter at the start of Guards! Guards!. While it's obvious from the start that he has a sense of justice and a desire to see justice served, years of being beaten down by a city that doesn't need him anymore has left him at his lowest point. In fact, Guards! Guards! is about him getting her proverbial groove back and solving his first real mystery in ages.

We then see Vimes grow into a respected member of the community, transforming the City Watch from a joke (at the start of the series, it's four people) into a pillar of the City, an institution in its own right.

Vimes himself struggles with addiction throughout the series with the help of his wife, Sybil, and members of the Watch (especially his right-hand man, Carrot), going from alcohol to cigars to bacon sandwiches by the end of the series.

We also see how Vimes fits into the central theme of the City Watch - social inequality and the importance of overcoming it. Sam starts the series with a... not-great view of the non-human residents of the city of Ankh-Morpork (although this view is better described as general misanthropy than racism, with him distrusting anyone who isn't his wife or a member of the Watch). This view is changed as the series progresses - between the first two novels, a coalition of minority groups successfully sues the city of Ankh-Morpork for employment discrimination in government positions and Vimes is forced to allow non-human people into the Watch. He comes to recognize that these people are, well, people with value not only as people but as law enforcement officials. Twice, Vimes uses his social power to advocate for downtrodden species to be treated as people, with full rights and protections under the law - for golems in Feet of Clay and goblins in Snuff, and the City Watch becomes the most diverse organization in the entirety of Discworld.

The last thing I'll talk about is Vimes' aforementioned desire for justice. Night Watch gives us a view into the life of an early Sam Vimes (Vimes is sent back in time to just before the Glorious Revolution, a now-forgotten struggle against a despot) - indeed, in his youth Sam was a revolutionary, inspired by Sgt. John Keel (whom Vimes takes the place of after finding Keel dead). During this Revolution, young Sam Vimes witnessed a number of things that would impact him for the rest of his life, including the torture chambers of The Unspeakables, a secret police force who committed horrible crimes in the name of the public good and who act as the antagonists of the novel. The quote that started this essay comes from near the climax of the novel, and I think it really encapsulates that desire for justice and why Sam Vimes works as a protagonist - one of the best in fantasy.

[separatist-apologist]

Burning Red

Summary: When Arina is brought with her father to Velaris, she sees an opportunity to escape the marriage she's desperate to avoid. She wants a smaller life- a simpler life.

One that doesn't involve a dragon.

For @erisweekofficial

Part Five of the Dragons Series | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Read on AO3 | Wonderland | A Mythical Thing | A Fragile Little Flame | Amber Skies

-

Eris Vanserra wasn’t sure what to make of his current sleeping arrangements. For one, he was in pants, which felt…wrong. Even with the thin material, he kept tossing and turning as he tried to find a comfortable position before he finally gave up.

Eris glanced over at the sleeping form of his mate, curled on her side. She’d allowed him to sleep beside her so long as he wore pants and promised not to touch her. Eris had self-control…and he wanted to touch her. Badly.

Worse when she shifted in her sleep, rolling from one side to the other so her cheek was pressed against his bare shoulder? Was he allowed to touch her if she touched him first? Surely she wouldn’t begrudge him brushing her hair from her face? 

She’d said not to touch her, and so Eris kept his hands folded on his stomach, resisting the urge. There would be time, he reminded himself. Instead, Eris let himself think about what had happened since he’d found her. He’d been so certain if he offered her the chance to leave him, she’d take it.

He, of course, would have simply invented a reason to be near her so he didn’t have to wholly let her go. Instead, Arina had chosen to remain and had allowed him into her bed when he would have vacated if she’d put her feet down.

She needed things. Clothing and food and jewels—things he was certain the human males had afforded her, even as they treated her like chattel. The things he needed would arrive before she woke, and though the people closest to him were curious as to why he’d hidden himself away in the mountains, they ultimately respected his choice to remain for the time being.

Dragons were, by nature, more solitary than social. The rise of cities had only begun after the great purge when they’d realized they needed a more centralized government and the ability to defend themselves. It couldn’t be every dragon for themself—by the time they’d realized what was happening, they’d already lost so many.

Windhaven was, truly, the blueprint the rest of them had followed, though far more militarized that Eris’s own home. He understood why they’d done it, but Eris cherished the softness of his own home. They’d come through far better than most—they were isolated, and humans had to travel by ship to reach them. It didn’t mean they hadn’t suffered heavy losses—just that they hadn’t lost everyone. 

He’d been their prince long before the settlement of Alsfeld, their main—and only—city. The vast majority of his people still chose to live on their own, far from the business of the city. Especially those with mates, who didn’t trust Eris to keep them safe. But over the years, more ad more had come into Alfeld, creating a small economy and living more communally than they ever had. 

He liked it. Eris liked the sounds of people out on the streets, the chatter, the laughter, the general business that often took over. More and more people from the countryside began trekking in monthly, exchanging goods for other things they needed. The humans, he supposed, had helped facilitate one good thing in their violence.

He wanted Arina to see it. To love it as much as he did. And more than that, he wanted his people to see their chances for mates weren’t gone—just changed. He’d set the example, though truthfully Eris didn’t see how he’d manage to get humans within his borders without there being another war.

The humans males were just as territorial as the dragons, but far more prone to violence. That had been the point of his visit to Rhysand—cooperation among territories, a lending of strength and a tenative plan for how they’d intermingle. It wasn’t going well in Velaris which made Eris wary. 

Not mentioning that he’d, technically, stolen another males bride. He doubted her family was going to treat him kindly, regardless of what Arina ended up deciding. Eris was prepared to defend her, even if she rejected him. He wasn’t sending her back to those people.

Arina whimpered softly in her sleep, curling closer until her arm was draped over his chest. Eris went wholly still, breathing in the soft scent of citrus and vanilla. Exhaling softly, he willed his body not to react. 

He was failing. His cock stirred to life, unconcerned with his own nobility. Taste her, taste her, taste—

He couldn’t get up without potentially waking her. Eris merely kept himself still until he, too, eventually fell asleep. His dreams were no better than his imagination, conjuring images of her body beneath his own, nails digging down his back until his skin gave way to scales. 

He woke before her to another wet day. She was wrapped around him, thigh pressing against his throbbing erection. If she woke like that, she was going to kill him. Carefully, Eris extracted himself from her hold, rather pleased that her unconscious form didn’t seem so opposed to touching him.

She’d hand her hand on his belly the night before when they slept in the woods together. He’d assumed, at the time, that she’d simply been cold and scared but perhaps she simply liked being near him. Eris wasn’t convinced she hadn’t chosen his room because she liked the smell of him.

She felt the mate bond just as strongly as he did, she simply didn’t know what it was that drew her to him. She’d figure it out…and then she’d wear his scales and Eris…well. He’d figure it all out afterward.

Eris slipped into the bathroom, pants already kicked to the floor before he managed to lock it behind him. Taking his cock into his hand, Eris merely leaned against the cool wall, eyes focused on the ceiling overhead, though he saw none of it—only her face, her body, her smile. Her scent was lodged in his nose, and when his eyes fluttered shut, he could imagine her touching him in her waking life. Those same, soft hands sliding up and down his shaft, drawing pleasure he’d never experienced before. 

His own hand was sufficient. Ignoring the way his muscles still ached, wounds still tender and bruised, Eris fucked his fist with a ferocity he’d never felt in his life. Instinct demanded he claim his mate—if she had been born in his culture and his home, she’d understand it. She’d let him, joining their souls the way fate had designed.

But she didn’t, and Eris was patient. He’d waited centuries—he could wait a little more. Especially if it meant she came to the decision on her own. 

“Eris?”

He came without meaning to, body jerking as though someone holding his strings had abruptly cut them. He made a mess of his hands, and the floor, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. Arina knocked softly on the door as he stared down at himself, heart pounding in the wake of his release.

“Yes?”

“I ah…need to use the bathroom?”

Right. “Give me a moment,” he mumbled, suddenly embarrassed as clarity stole over him. Her feet padded away from him, pulling open the door that led directly outdoors. Eris hastily cleaned himself up, splashing water over his flushed face. After a few deep breaths deflated him enough to put the hateful pants back on, haphazardly laced because his hands were still shaking, Eris met her in the room they now shared.

She was standing in the rain, face upturned, eyes closed. Eris’ heart raced at the sight, ignoring that her nightdress was just as wet as the rest of her. This was a dream, he told himself, and at any moment he was going to wake up and find he’d made it all up in his mind.

She wasn’t real.

Surely she was a figment of his ruined imagination, though Eris didn’t think his own fantasy would argue with him quite so much. 

She turned, catching him staring and all at once her easy expression darkened ever so slightly. That was real, he reminded himself as he opened the door. 

“You can’t keep me locked up in here,” she said, stomping in.

“I’m not trying to,” he replied, frustrated she kept placing her very human expectations on his very unhuman shoulders. 

“I want to sleep outside,” she added, as if Eris didn’t spend his own time napping in a sunbeam, half covered in leaves. 

“Okay.”

Her eyes narrowed, but Eris was merely at a loss. He was agreeing with her, and still she was irritated. What do you want me to say? It was as if she wanted him to tell her no so she could rage against him.

Eris wanted to make her happy.

She left him standing stupidly in the doorway, tossing her thick hair over her shoulder before vanishing behind the bathroom door. He merely watched her go, heart still thudding in his throat.

He felt as if he’d done something wrong.

ARINA:

Eris gave her a tour, shirtless as usual as he fidgeted with the laces on his pants. He’d done the same the night before, tossing and turning until she’d felt a little guilty making him wear them. Though she was supposed to be shedding all the trappings of her former life, his desire to be naked was still rather shocking to her.

Sleeping with a naked man seemed even more so. What would father think?

He’d be outraged. Furious to the point of violence, she suspected. Was he looking for her? Arina couldn’t stop the anxious thoughts once they began. He couldn’t reach her—didn’t know where she’d gone or what she was doing. For all he knew, she’d been ripped to pieces by wolves in the woods. 

He wouldn’t let her go without said pieces. He’d want her body, either shredded in a bag of dead on a slab, but he’d hold on to that control until he couldn’t anymore. He’d come—she knew he would. Did Eris? Arina vowed she’d warn him, wondering if he’d give her a weapon.

Something. 

She forgot to ask him when he left her to her own devices in the library. There were no servants floating around, no staff to help him. As far as she could tell, Eris was doing everything on his own. Case and point: while she was picking through his collection, Eris brought in a tray of meat and cheeses and demanded she eat. 

He’d also been the one to bring in all those new dresses, brought to him by someone, though she hadn’t seen who. Would he wash his own laundry? Cook his own food? He was clearly nobility and yet he didn’t act like it. 

Arina waited until he wandered back in, watching her with that carefully guarded expression he always wore. It was as if he expected her to start screaming at any moment. She supposed she had been rather unkind…he just made her nervous. She knew what he wanted from her, and Arina wasn’t certain she could give it to him. 

“My father is looking for me,” she told him, smoothing out the skirt of her soft, yellow dress. The fabric was simple and light, form fitted and well made. She supposed some of them must wear clothes, at least on occasion. 

“I’m sure he is,” Eris replied, stepping into the warm light of the library. 

“He won’t rest until he has me back.”

Eris only shrugged, as if to say, let him try.

“I want a weapon.”

“For what purpose?”

“What if he finds me—” Arina began, but Eris scoffed, clearly offended.

“I’ll handle him.”

“What if you’re not here? What if you get injured? What if—”

“Do you know how to use a weapon?” he interrupted again, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No,” she mumbled, frustrated and angry.

“So you need to learn,” he murmured, eyes unfocused as he considered his next moves. 

“You put the pointy in, right?”

Eris scowled, gaze pinning her in place. She liked him right then, she realized. She’d said that specifically to rile him up and was delighted it had worked. His eyes seemed dangerous, mouth pressed in a thin line. “You could injure yourself. You’re probably more likely to injure yourself than your attacker and then what?”

“I’ve solved all your problems?”

She took it too far. It wasn’t rage that shuttered over his expression, but grief. He banished it as quickly as she caught it, holding himself rigid in response. Arina felt guilty, though she didn’t apologize, either. It was odd, seeing a stranger care about her. Genuinely care. 

“You’ll teach me?” she asked, afraid he’d changed his mind. 

“I will,” he agreed in that careful, measured way of his. “On one condition.”

“Negotiating?” she questioned with just a hint of outrage. The corners of his lips tugged upward, as if he were trying not to betray how amused he was.

“No more pants in the bedroom.”

“Eris—”

“I won’t touch you,” he interrupted, holding up his hand to silence her. “But I’m not sleeping in them.”

“Maybe I’ll pick a different room,” she said, the thought filling her with dread. She didn’t want to be alone, not after waking in the night to find his face pressed in her hair and a strong arm draped across her waist. She’d felt safe—like he’d take care of her.

“Go ahead,” he challenged, a sly smirk sliding over that beautiful face of his. 

“I will,” she lied, crossing her arms across her chest. “I don’t care about your room that much.”

Some of his quiet contemplation slicked away, and Arina found she kind of liked the smugness that radiated from him.

“You’ll be in my bed before the sun has fully set.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Oh, I do,” he replied, taking a step forward. “I’d bet the clothes you’re wearing that you will.”

Dangerous. Arina’s breath caught, heart thudding in her chest. “I’m not betting you my clothes.”

His smile widened, as if to say, oh you will.  “A kiss, then.”

“Fine,” she replied, certain she could outlast him if only to avoid kissing him. Even if her traitorous eyes slide to his mouth as her imagination wondered what it would feel like. She’d been kissed by Jack and she’d hated every single moment of it. Arina didn’t understand why men liked it so much—she’d found the entire thing uncomfortable and unpleasant. 

Eris strolled off not long after that, leaving Arina to find a room she didn’t entirely hate. The problem was that she hated all of them. The windows were too small, the beds to lumpy, the rooms too clean. She missed the smell of Eris’ room, even when she settled on one so far from him that it would make it impossible to navigate in the dark. 

He said nothing, of course. He simply handed her a night dress before closing the door behind him, undoubtedly shedding his pants the second she couldn’t see him. It was all frustrating and yet entirely of her own making. She could have rejected the bet entirely and found herself laying beside him, perfectly content, warm, and not alone.

Arina hated being alone. 

Always had, which made it such an effective punishment. Arina would do nearly anything to avoid being locked away with no one to talk to, and her father knew it. Anytime she displeased him, she was forced to her quarters where servants would file in and out silently, but no one was allowed to acknowledge her until her father felt she’d been brought sufficiently in line. 

Laying in that cold bed, Arina let herself reflect on the life she’d been living up until that moment. She’d never really thought much about it—her most pressing concern had been around getting out of what promised to be a horrible marriage. She was out, now. If she was caught and dragged back, Arina intended to lie and say she was with Eris intimately, if only to ensure there would be no new marriages. 

But now, after a full day of doing whatever she liked without supervision, Arina was struck with how absurd life had been before. How controlled—down to the very minute. Sometimes down to her very thoughts themselves. 

It was still raining, pattering softly on the roof. She felt silly, though also paralyzed. She didn’t want to go into his room, even though she didn’t want to sleep alone, either. It was too early to admit any kind of weakness, she rationalized.

Arina curled on her side, back to the door, and willed herself to sleep. It didn’t work. Wide awake, mind racing, and a touch too cold beneath her blankets, she let herself imagine what would happen when her father inevitably found her. Where was far enough, she wondered? That his ships couldn’t reach, that his soldiers couldn’t search? Had this whole endeavor been foolish? Childish? Plenty of women married men they didn’t like and they survived it. Why should she be any different?

Behind her, the door creaked open softly, followed by the sound of feet padding into the room. A moment later, the bed dipped and then she was being yanked against Eris’ warm chest with a grunt.

“Stubborn,” he muttered into her hair.

“You’re naked,” she whispered, noting he’d angled his hips so they weren’t pressed against her. 

“As I promised to be,” was his infuriating response. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“I know,” she whispered. And she did. If nothing else, he’d proven that he had no intention of harming her since they met. She twisted onto her back, peering up at him. “I’m scared.”

“So am I,” he admitted, which was strange. What did he have to be afraid of? Arina was certain that, if she had wings, she wouldn’t be afraid of anything. 

“Tell me what happened,” she murmured, wanting to know the truth of things. 

“I don’t know it all,” he admitted after a lengthy stretch of silence. “We’re hard to kill, but its not impossible. The humans who came, though…one of us told them. Showed them. Explained our weaknesses—our mates, our children. A mated dragon won’t act rationally when its his young standing before a blade. We were more isolated then, less centralized…by the time we realized, it was too late. So many died.”

“What happened after?”

“We hid ourselves,” Eris murmured, his lips still pressed to her scalp. “Protected those who were left. At first I thought we’d retaliate but then…we were happy. Life was quiet. It goes on.”

“I’d want revenge,” she admitted, looking up.

“I never did until I met you,” he murmured, his grip tightening ever so slightly around her body. “I thought I’d moved on.”

“You don’t have to wage war on my behalf,” she informed him before attempting to turn back to her side. Eris stopped her, free hands sliding over her cheek, fingers in her hair to keep her from pulling away.

“Wrong,” he whispered, nose nearly brushing her own. “You’re so very wrong.”

“Eris,” she replied, pressing her legs together as if that would somehow help the desire that had slithered through her. “You’re in my bed.”

“You wanted me here,” he replied. How he knew, Arina had no idea. Maybe she didn’t want to know. What she did know was that she could have pulled away. He loosened his grasp on her just enough that she could have easily extracted herself from his grasp. This was a question—he was asking.

She didn’t move. 

“Say it,” he whispered, lips all but touching hers. “Say you wanted me.”

She swore she meant to deny it. Arina felt the defiant words bubble in her throat, which didn’t explain why she said, instead, “I wanted you.” His mouth came over hers so softly that for a moment, she was taken aback. Surely this wasn’t what kissing was. His eyes remained open, searching her expression to see if he’d make a mistake. Miscalculated somehow. Oh, but it felt good. It was a conversation, not a declaration, and Arina understood, right then, what he was offering her if she wanted it.

He wasn’t going to hurt her.

And nothing between them was supposed to. She hadn’t understood that until right then when he sighed, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned into the sensation. He kissed her again, and this time she followed his lead, closing her eyes and touching his arm tentatively. It wasn’t lost on her that he was naked and she was not, and that it would be easy to take things too far.

She didn’t know him.

She wasn’t making any decision based on arousal. That didn’t mean she couldn’t kiss him. She liked it, just like she’d been afraid she might. One kiss became two, became four, became so many that each slid one right into the other, teeth nipping her bottom lip as her nails dug roughly into his skin. Arina lost track of herself, succumbing to the pleasure of his touch. 

He groaned when she parted her lips, allowing his tongue to sweep in. Arina hadn’t know anything could feel that good—it was eroding her good sense. His fingers tugged at her hair and the hand that had once been draped around her middle suddenly found itself pressed to her stomach, as if testing to see where he was allowed to touch her.

Arousal and panic warred before panic won out. She pulled back, breathless and dazed as Eris stared, nostrils flared.

“I can’t—”

“You tell me what’s allowed,” he interrupted hastily, as if he felt just as ruined as she did by the kiss. “Tell me what you want.”

“Nothing else,” she breathed as his mouth came back to hers. “Just this.”

“Only this,” he agreed, and the hand on her stomach was gone, allowing him to cup her face instead. The kissing had become frantic on both their end—she could feel whatever it was that he knew intrinsically, though, when his mouth was on hers. The desire, the need, the urge to have him regardless of the cost. 

They were on dangerous ground. She knew if she kept this up, she’d let him have far more, and who knew what the consequences to it all was. He did, likely—Arina wanted all the facts.

That didn’t make it any easier to pull away from him. Eris looked wild, hardly like a man at all. There was something distinctly animal about him. She liked that, too.

“Lay with me,” she whispered, trying to calm her beating heart. Eris nodded, pulling her close to him. She’d intended to ask him her questions.

But with the sound of his heart thudding in her ears, Arina fell asleep before she had the chance.

—

“So it’s an actual city?” Arina questioned, kicking up a pile of leaves on the ground.

“An actual city,” Eris agreed, tilting his face toward a patch of sunlight. 

The rain had cleared the day before, the sun warming the once wet ground until the leaves were crisp beneath his feet. She was barefoot, hair loose in a dress made of spun cotton and dyed a pretty orange. She wanted to be outside, which was perfectly fine for Eris, who hated being indoors all the time.

And she had questions. If he didn’t know her better, he’d have thought she was prying for information she shouldn’t have. Arina was merely curious about the world around her, sharing what she’d been told and unraveling the half-truths of her own education. Eris had never realized how restricted human females were—she had almost no math literacy, for example, which he found immensely frustrating. What if one of his people needed assistance and she was the only one available? His people wouldn’t understand why she couldn’t do certain things—there were no restrictions based along gendered lines in his home or in his culture.

How did he give her that education without making her feel inferior, he wondered? One way, he’d decided, was to simply answer every question she had, even when it came in the early morning hours after she’d woken from a dream. Eris wanted to snap and snarl, but instead he’d merely answered her question before fall back asleep, face half smothered in her hair.

He’d given her a dagger the day before and to her credit, she hadn’t immediately pressed it to his throat. He had allowed her to get the upper hand, straddling his waist as she pressed the sharp edge to his neck, unaware Eris’s self restraint was holding on by the thinnest of threads. 

He had the taste of her burned in his mouth and Eris wanted more. He needed it. She was skittish, prone to running off if they got a little too comfortable. He didn’t dare touch her below her neck, but she did. Just that morning, she’d been teasing her fingers in the irritating waistband of his trousers, which he had to admit, he’d enjoyed. If that’s why humans wore pants, Eris would wear them until he died so long as she teased him like that.

“How long have you ruled it?”

Eris was dragged back to reality where he was outdoors with his mate, cock half hard, while she meandered barefoot through the woods. 

“A long time,” he caged, unsure if she’d like knowing how old he actually was. Arina accepted that, running her fingers over the rough bark of a nearby tree.

“Can I be out here by myself?”

Eris knew she was about to say something that filled him with rage. Clenching his jaw tightly to ward off the urge to take to the skies and punish not just her father, but the very home she hailed from, Eris only nodded.

“You’re not afraid I’ll run away?”

“No,” he admitted, not bothering to add she’d be easy to track if she did. 

“I wasn’t allowed outside without a chaperone before,” Arina informed him, thus proving him right. Eris couldn’t help himself.

“Why?” he asked, the worst exploding in a rush of air. She didn’t seem phased.

“I think because I enjoyed it. But father always said I wasn’t safe,” she mumbled, green eyes clouding with her own anger. “He thought if a man saw me alone, they might take too much.”

Thos eyes cut toward him. “I haven’t taken anything you haven’t offered,” Eris grumbled, unwilling for her father to be right. He hadn’t taken her because she was beautiful—he’d taken her because she was his mate.

And because they’d been moment from a very violent death. 

“You don’t worry another male—”

“He wouldn’t dare,” Eris hissed, claws unsheating beneath his knuckles. “You’ll wear my scales—they’ll know I belong to you.”

Her brow furrowed. “Wear your scales? Like a pelt?”

Eris hadn’t meant to say that. He didn’t need to say anything at all, truthfully. She knew, had seen other females mated to his kind. Her fingers traced her throat, eyes wide with understanding.

“Does it hurt?”

He didn’t know that, though he assumed it must not. “No.”

“How does it happen?”

Eris couldn’t take her eyes off him. He understood the process in theory—it only happened once, and only with mates. “We ah…”

She scoffed. “Of course that’s how it works.”

Did she want to know the whole thing? Eris followed after her with an earnestness he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. “I use my fangs, too.”

“Is that a euphemism? I hear talk, you know.”

“No,” he replied, opening his mouth wide so she could see. Arina crept closer, touching the tip of his sharpened canine with the tip of her finger. 

“It looks like it hurts,” she said, her other hand pressed gently to his bare chest. 

“I won’t hurt you,” he said solemnly. 

“I’m starting to believe that,” she admitted, withdrawing her touch as though she needed it. Eris wished he was closer to another dragon with a human mate, if only so he could ask how much their humans felt of the bond writhing in his chest. 

“Arina, I—”

Eris wasn’t able to finish his sentence. The wind had shifted, dragging with it a scent that was all too familiar. Sickeningly so. Eris threw out his arm for a moment, pushing Arina behind him as he craned his neck upward. A passing shadow flew overhead. It smelled like his father. 

Eris hadn’t meant to shift. It was panic and fear that caused it, his mind only remembering his fragile, breakable mate when his spiked tail slammed to the ground. Arina screamed, though she kept close to him rather than running away.

Eris bent his neck, demanding silently that she get on his back. She did, scrambling upward with soft hands. They didn’t have to go far to find the interloper. Eris knew those gold colored scales didn’t come from the northern dragons, who favored scales in hues of red, blue, and green. Oranges and golds belonged to the warmer, western climates and this creature was no different. Gold was a rare color, and certainly not the color of his fathers scales. Like Eris, Beron had been an orange scaled dragon. 

To get gold, you needed two gold scaled parents. His mother had been one, and Eris knew who the other had been, once upon a time. Before Beron had slaughtered the male. 

As he thought over his family history, a small female scrambled between the two of them, hands thrown out.

“We’re not here to hurt you!” she breathed, as if it mattered. She was here, when she had no right to be, with a male who smelled like Eris’s father. That, alone, was enough to warrant the violent death he was planning. 

“Elain?”

That was Arina’s voice. Eris snarled, but Arina wasn’t afraid of him. Sliding off his back, she met the brunette in the middle of the field just before the estate, arms hanging loose at her side. Where was her dagger? What was the point of a weapon if she wasn’t going to keep it on her.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Elain murmured. “Can you…can you tell him we’re not going to hurt you.”

“No,” Arina replied, glancing over at Eris. “How do I know that?”

Elain threw her hands up in the air. “Because we’re not. He’s mated,” she added, pointing to the gold scale ribboned around her tanned skin. Eris felt a bolt of jealousy at the sight. He couldn’t boast the same. 

“Then why are you here? You followed us,” Arina accused. Eris shifted behind her, watching the gold dragon who stood behind his own mate, though without half as much animosity as Eris had. The male merely seemed curious, and Eris believed if he shifted into his regular form, the other male would, too.

“You left in the middle of the night before we could even talk with you,” Elain replied. “I think…I think they’re brothers.”Eris shifted without meaning, pants wrecked. He didn’t care. “My brothers are dead,” he insisted as the other male shifted. 

Eris wanted to die at the sight of that face. Helions face, coupled with his mothers eyes and hair, stared back at him. His father had killed the king of the south seemingly abruptly—Eris had always wanted to believe it was a territory dispute. Beron wanted more than the islands and Helion was simply their closest neighbor.

But then he’d taken Eris’s brothers and mother and vanished, too. Eris had been spared, out in the woods when his father went on his rampage. By the time he returned, they were gone and Eris was the defacto king at the age of thirteen.

The humans had come for them a mere three years later. 

“The humans killed them,” the male told him, stepping just behind his mate. The males hands fell on her shoulders and Eris realized, with a jolt, that she was pregnant. His knees shook at the future laid before him, proof that human females not only mated with them, but started whole families. All his rage evaporated, replaced with something a little shrewder. Let the mated female stay—maybe her happiness would rub off on Arina. 

“And your mother?” Eris heard himself ask, holding himself so very still.

The male looked away.

“Was it humans?”

“He kept us at the edge of one of their settlements,” the male murmured, eyes glassy with remembrance. “Mother hid me when they came.”

She would, too. She’d have sacrificed herself for all of them. If he was the youngest, the most helpless, Eris knew she’d make sure he was safe somewhere, assuming she’d be able to come back for him later. Eris didn’t bother asking how he’d survived. 

“You smell like her,” the male added, fingers tightening on his mates shoulders. 

“Are you staying?” Arina asked with the same suspicion Eris felt. 

“Lucien and I thought…” Elain bit her bottom lip. “It’s a long journey back.”

Lucien’s eyes slid to Arina before falling back on Eris’s face. “I’m not asking you for your things. Just…history.”

“Could we all maybe put on some clothes?” Arina asked, interrupting whatever Eris had been about to say. He still didn’t know—hadn’t figured out what he wanted, or needed, or even what he should do. Here was a male claiming to be his full-blooded brother when in truth, he was half at best. The better halves, likely, given there was no Beron corrupting him. This was his home, too, and the ruined, wrecked south should he want it. Eris didn’t know if there was anything worth salvaging, or people who still remained. 

“Please,” Elain added with an exhale. Arina’s eyes brightened, which was enough to convince Eris they could stay. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, noting his half brother looked just as annoyed. They exchanged a tentative glance as if to say, I hate pants, too, before following behind Arina and Elain. Eris wasn’t certain he’d made the right choice, or even a good choice. For all he knew, Lucien had come as an invader. 

But Lucien would know, with some certainty, if his father had been the one to betray them. And more than anything, Eris needed the answer to that question. Had his father been so enraged his wife had a child outside of their marriage that he’d doomed every female? It was the sort of vindictive thing Beron would have delighted in.

If he couldn’t have a wife, no one could. 

And Eris was the inheritor of that legacy.

[galgannet]

Ahmose I (Ahmes I) was a pharaoh who reigned approximately 1550 - 1525 BC. e., and is the founder of the 18th dynasty. He was never particularly popular or known and that’s the reason that made me draw this picture so that people would remember him or learn about him. Ahmose's reign began on the day he came of age (at the age of 16), by which time his heroic father Seqenenra Taa II was already dead (he died not from intrigue, as you might think, but in a battle with the Hyksos). Ahmose's mother, Queen Yahhotep, initially ruled together with her son until he got married. Having blessed the couple to have a long and happy life, she finally retired from political affairs (not really). Ahmose continued the war with the Hyksos because his father’s work had to continue and his death had to be avenged. The brave pharaoh set his sights on the very capital of his vile enemies. The young pharaoh entered into an alliance with Crete, which was famous for its unsurpassed fleet (And also for dancing with bulls and a centralized water supply, but that’s another story). He led the combined fleet to Avaris, a fortified city located on the Nile Delta, which made approaches to it from the river quite convenient. Nevertheless, the siege lasted for an indecently long time and only in the 11th year of the reign of Ahmose, the city was captured through a fierce assault. Many hands were cut off, and the water was stained with blood to the delight of the alligators. The unfortunate Hyksos were forced to retreat all the way to Asia, liberating all of Lower Egypt. But this did not stop Ahmose. The thirst for revenge and the desire to protect Egypt from further encroachments by the Hyksos forced him to capture the Sharukhen fortress in Palestine. The last stronghold of his enemies fell. All this time, Queen Yahhotep did not sit idle and actively helped her son in military activities, earning awards for her valor (perhaps we will talk about her in our next illustrations). Recapturing Egypt became the greatest deed in the life of Ahmose (which, you see, is quite impressive). While the young pharaoh was engaged in his military activities (after all, as you know, once you start, it’s impossible to stop), his still fragile power over Egypt weakened. Uprisings began. However, they were successfully suppressed, thus finally strengthening him on the throne. Finally, as he grew older, Ahmose’s ardor subsided and he began construction work. However, he was not so good in this field and practically not a single building of Ahmose has survived to this day. However, during his time new quarries were opened for the construction of temples, so everything is not so bad. Ahmose's mother and grandmother were quite strong women who actively participated in political and even military activities until their last day. The first wife of Ahmose, Ahmose-Nefertari, also did not lag behind her relatives. All these women overshadowed Ahmose himself (we will not write about their deeds here). However, he loved his family and treated them with respect, which is reflected in some frescoes and in the records of scribes. The painting reflects my interpretation of the fresco on the stele that Ahmose dedicated to his grandmother Tetisheri after her death. Here he makes offerings to her. Ahmose died early, he was about 40 years old. After his death, his son Amenhotep I took the throne. If you want to know more about this pharaoh, but don't want to read boring historical texts, there are works of fiction on the topic. Ahmose is the main character in Naguib Mahfouz's novel The War of Thebes and Christian Jacques's Wrath of the Gods trilogy. Both works tell the story of the liberation of Egypt from the rule of the Hyksos. Artstation | Deviantart | VK | Commission List

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #46] Forgetting the Friendship

warnings: progress!! seven mv inspo!! fluffy goodness <33 a treat! (1) reference to 'ur so mean ting ting ball :('

notes: i love these chapters so much waaa, it makes me excited to write for bd again <3 also these chapters are copied straight from ao3 and the space after italicised words before full stops drives me insaaane but I am too lazy to fix it lol soz

wc: 9K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Jeongguk sitting across from you at a dining table is not a foreign concept.

Nor is his smile, and the solace it brings; or his inquisitive eyes, and how they're able to make even the most mundane of activities enthralling.

In fact, sitting with Jeongguk in a dark, smokey barbecue place just off the central restaurant district downtown feels entirely comfortable.

Yet it's perhaps the most troubling thing of all: dating Jeongguk is easy .

Easy, like the first sip of an expensive vodka. Easy, like the laughter that comes whenever you're with him. Easy, like you knew it would be. Easy, like it always is.

The restaurant is familiar to you both - somewhere you've frequented for countless late-night dinners. It's a standard joint, nothing technical nor fancy about it. Booth seats, coal pits in the middle of the table, extractor fan above head.

The pipe work is exposed, but it's more for practicality than aesthetics, even if it does lend itself perfectly to the industrial vibe the place has going on. Lights are dim, neons on the walls, overheads shining down on the barbecues only. It's the perfect place to go incognito for a little. Perfect place to test the waters of what a date could be like with Jeongguk. Perfect, because you can hide, if you want.

Hide what you are. Hide how you feel. Hide from your friends, onlookers, judgement. Hide, as if you need to. As if anyone gives a shit. As if you aren't just a couple of besties just sharing some food.

No one understands.

No one realises they're witnessing a cosmic union that'll change the world as we know it. Celestial in the way your energies merge, a once-in-a-lifetime phenomenon is happening with every awkward glance. Every shy smile. Every bite of his lip, and flip of his lip ring. Every sparkle of your glitter beneath the hazy lights.

God, Jeongguk thinks, hands clammy. So fuckin' pretty.

You know exactly why he's chosen this place. 'Best meat in the entire city,' you've whined a few times, mouth full of your favourite cut. Moksal, the neck cut, is your go-to. Jeongguk always prefers samgyeopsal, and actually thinks there's a place across the road that is superior - but you like moksal, and you like the moksal here.

So here is where you are.

When you realise this—as he's asking the waiter for a cut of samgyeopsal and two cuts of moksal—your heart hurts. If it could pout, it would.

You don't realise that you're kind of pouting too, until Jeongguk asks, "Is that alright? Did you want something else? I can change the order."

"No," you insist, a smile settling on your lips, just shy of a giggle.

Attentive as always, you find his drive to keep you happy sweet. Charming, in fact. You know that if he had it his way, he'd have ordered three cuts of samgyeopsal straight off the bat, then maybe ordered moksal for round two.

But he wants this to be easy.

It is easy.

It's not like you had expected a date with Jeongguk to be a particular hardship. Nothing like that at all.

You've known him for long enough now, and experienced enough of life with him, to know what something like this could be like. Hell, you've done this exact thing with him on an easy two dozen occasions. More, maybe.

The ease, the comfortability, the absence of complication; It's all so easy .

You've never known love to be easy.

Never known it without conflict. You don't even know if this is love—but you know it has the potential to be.

It's too soon for such heavy words. The dates barely even started. A bottle of soju and a bottle of beer are brought to your table, and Jeongguk cracks the cap of the beer while you unscrew the soju. Work in tandem. Get the drinks flowing, 'cause neither of you are truly confident enough for this.

Have both tripped over your words already. Both took a little too long to think of responses, in an attempt to make them perfect. Make this perfect. Be perfect.

This is your first fatal error, for perfection has never been what either of you have liked about one another.

It's everything else—flaws, and all— that you like.

He'd proven that as soon as he had shown up at your door that evening.

"I like your hair," he had told you earlier, a little bashful in your apartment hallway, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

Half up, it isn't particularly special today.

Danbi had spritzed it with a little glitter hairspray while you'd been doing your makeup, and twisted some plaits back, leaving your grown-out fringe to frame your face. It is a little fancier than your normal half-up go-to, but it's not exactly ground-breaking.

'Smart casual' had been the attire set by Jeongguk after you'd asked for a dress code, which is honestly the worst thing he could have possibly said.

You're good at doing casual. Great at doing cocktail. Mildly okay at doing smart. The combination of smart and casual? Yeah, not so great. Too many things to factor in.

"Like, do I go business-sexy?" you'd considered out loud, spending far too much time whining when you should have been getting ready. "Yanno? Like a hot secretary? Is that what he means?"

"I think he just means a little dressy," Danbi had talked some sense into you. Really didn't understand all the fuss. "Not full Disco Ball, but enough to still turn heads."

Glancing over to the sparkly dress hanging on the back of your door—the same one that Jeongguk had sort of gifted to you over the weekend, but also not spoken to you about at all—you decide that maybe that will be a little too much.

Thankfully, Jeongguk did send you a mirror selfie twenty minutes before he was set to leave.

Black slacks, a blazer, and a graphic white tee beneath it. Smart casual. Captioned it with, 'will you be able to resist me, or should I get changed?'

You have a last minute panic and change to dress accordingly; tight black mini skirt, large white tee hanging loosely off your frame. A tour shirt from one of your favourite bands, it's been through the wash enough times to look almost vintage, even if it's just from a few years ago. Tucking it in a little at the front, you allow for the material to billow and hide the body Jeongguk seems to love so much. Perhaps it's better. Less tempting.

With a smile, you reply, 'no & no.'

Layering on some jewellery, you do a few last minute checks, and tug on your Converse. Totally not because you think he might wear his. Not at all. Decide against a jacket. You know Jeongguk's got one.

If you're gonna date, then you're gonna do the datey things - and that includes stealing his jacket before the end of the night.

Definitely has nothing to do with the fact you know Jiyeong did the same thing. You're definitely not trying to overwrite the memories of her. Not at all. That would be childish and pathetic and silly and exactly what you're doing.

You've had long enough of reducing yourself and making yourself invisible for the sake of men.

Jeongguk has never made you do that. Not once.

You're confident that Jeongguk won't ever make you reduce yourself. In fact, he's the one who frowns whenever you're without glitter. If anything, he seems to want to amplify you. It's a strange feeling. One you're not quite used to, yet.

But it's one that you had welcomed as he turned up at your door. Had dimples digging into his cheeks the second he caught your gaze, desperately fighting a smile.

A million thoughts raced through his head: how gorgeous you always look in the flickering light of your apartment hallway; how happy he is to be at your door, and how it felt like he'd be sick the entire subway ride there; how he'd planned on stopping for flowers on the way, but had been too eager to see you instead.

None of these thoughts escaped his lips.

Instead, the greeting had been awkward . Bashful. Both of you unsure of this new etiquette, even though being together feels like the most natural thing in the world.

He made note of your lack of jacket. Didn't insist you get one. Knew straight off the bat that he'd be draping his blazer over your shoulders by the end of the night. Wrapping you up as his own. Sticking a label on you that distinctly marks you as his.

He also noticed your shoes. Smiled. Looked down at his own pair - that he definitely didn't wear because he thought you might... not at all...

Part of you felt a little cheated as you headed down towards the subway ( where was the hand holding he'd spoken about? ) but you were also thankful he wasn't going in all guns blazing. Were nervous. Unsteady.

Now that you think about it, perhaps a hand would have been useful to hold.

But in a place that is familiar to you both, the nerves settle.

"So, tell me about yourself," you flirt, as if this really is a first date by the standards of normal people. "Pets? Siblings? Hobbies?"

Jeongguk smiles, easing into how natural this all feels. Feels a little odd, too. You know all this. Still, he nods. Cosplays as a stranger to you 'cause maybe he is a bit too acquainted for some guy who isn't even your boyfriend.

"One brother, no pets. Want a dog, but I'm waiting until I have more free time, yanno?"

"More free time?" you enquire, as if you don't know his schedule like the back of your own damn hand.

You're probably more well-versed in Jeongguk's work rota than your own by this point. Know which days to end up in Dionysus with no purpose other than to have his eyes on you the entire night. Know that he gyms at ass o'clock in the morning because of his work schedule. Know that he'll cancel that particular schedule if it gives him the excuse to stay in bed with you. Bonus point if he gets his cardio done in other ways.

You still might not be a gym girlie, but your core strength has never been better. You're getting pretty good at yoga, too. The Cobra is a particular favourite. Cow, too. And fish pose. In fact, now you think about it, you're getting real good at yoga. Danbi would be proud.

"More free time," he nods, before pausing to take the utensils from the waiter, insisting he's fine to grill his own meat. It's no different to usual—Jeongguk often happily cooks his own meat—but something about it this time around gets you smiling. A little flustered. You do love it when a man takes charge (mainly so you can fight with him), but it's entirely different now.

He just seems... capable. Dependable.

"Work enough hours at a part-time job for it to be full-time," he begins to explain. "But I'm also in the process of setting up my own business. Restaurant business."

Absolutely none of this is new to you, and yet you find yourself asking questions. So many questions. Rehash old conversations, and go off on new ones. Have Jeongguk smiling and enthusing, talking about his dreams like they're coming to life in little vapours dancing around his head. You can picture it all; his successes, his meticulously planned interior, the wind-down after a busy night, sitting with him around his favourite table and eating for yourselves.

He rambles on about staff uniforms, and whether or not he wants shirts or just aprons when he stops himself. Smiles, Says, "Sorry, I'm like the worst date. Just talking about myself non-stop."

Date . Jeongguk is your date. Fuck . You could squeal. You won't—but you could .

Shaking your head, you disagree. "I like hearing about your plans. It's fun. Your eyes get so sparkly whenever you talk about your dreams."

"Shut up," he cringes, a little embarrassed by himself, and also aware that you're totally wrong.

His eyes don't sparkle 'cause he's talking about his dreams.

His eyes sparkle cause he's looking at you as he speaks about them.

Nonethewiser, you raise your shot glass. It's filled to the brim with soju, hastily poured by him, and grin, "to your future."

He raises his glass, and knocks it against yours, tiny droplets of alcohol trickling over the lip of the glass and onto your fingers, so minimal it's almost unnoticeable. "To the future."

The , not his . A collective. A future he hopes you'll share together.

"Anyways," he says as he swallows down the soju and chases it with a little beer. "Tell me about you. Gimmie your life story, Disco Ball."

The smile on his face as he calls you that is sweet. Kind. His dark eyes twinkle in the dimly lit restaurant, a little smoke from the coals beneath the barbecue obscuring him for a brief moment.

Your ability to talk with Jeongguk about anything and everything for hours upon end is nothing new.

As you laugh and joke your way through dinner, there really is nothing remarkably hard about spending time with him. You never thought there would be.

Part of it worries you. Concerns you that 'nothing remarkably hard' could lead to you being simply 'nothing remarkable' altogether.

See, comfortable has been used upwards of a thousand times to describe your relationship. Now is no exception to that.

You talk with him like an old friend, not a new lover - and while this is fine, and safe, and necessary for a successful foundation, you fear that such security will prevent you from building something truly great.

Hours are lost in conversation.

The tables around you come and go. Fill up with new punters, then filter out. At one point, a server spends a little too long looking at your table. Jeongguk notices. Says, "I think we gotta order more or fuck off."

It's been three hours.

And so Jeongguk orders budae-jjigae to keep you going. Knows you won't eat all that much of it, but also knows he can demolish the stew off if needs be. It's cheaper than more meat, and easier to pretend like you're taking your time to eat it. Gives you more time.

Soju bottles empty out rapidly. New bottles are brought over every now and again, the table never running entirely dry. More meat is eventually ordered, because Jeongguk is Jeongguk, and the mere scent of the table next to you grilling up meat gets him hungry again.

Again, he grills for you for the most part, but when you take the tongs from him to turn the meat and give him a little break, he almost crumbles .

His gaze is centred on you. Flicks down your arm, to your wrist. Your hands. Watches as they work. Says nothing, just slowly wets his lips as you continue talking, then presses them together. His lip ring does the thing . Posture reclines a little into his chair.

"What?" you ask as you notice the way he's not paying attention to what you're saying at all. "You good?"

He just shrugs. Absent-mindedly toys with his lip ring a little. Is contemplative as he says, "Why are we putting ourselves through this, B?"

And while you could act dumb, and pretend like you don't know what he means, the relief that washes over is too damn obvious. Your shoulders fucking ease. He knows what you look like at ease, and now that you've sunk into it, he can't believe he didn't realise you were so tense before.

"Oh," he laughs, now, realising that you've been deliberating the exact same thing that's been running through his head. "Am I that much of a terrible date?"

"Date?" you tease. "This is a date?"

"Oh, fuck off," he laughs. "Course it's a date. I wore a blazer."

"You looked hot," you tell him, 'cause you've had a few too many shots to be making good decisions. Tucked into the base of the seating booth to protect it from the smoke, Jeongguk's in just a t-shirt now.

Arms out. Tattoos on display. Muscles tensing just right.

It's a miracle you've been able to form coherent sentences at all this evening.

Truthfully, you've not been focusing on them.

Can't help but let your mind jump back into its memories. Fractures of heated moments in his shower keep coming to mind. The grip you'd have on his arms as you came undone. Memories so potent they almost make you whine.

So yeah, you've been avoiding looking at his arms.

"Should I put it back on?" He raises a brow.

"No," you hum. Bit down on your lip. Sparkle underneath the lights of the restaurant. The taking of Jeongguk's breath is accidental. The way you shrug, and playfully raise your eyebrows as you recline into your chair, is not. "You're hot now, too."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were flirting with me, Byeol."

"Am I not?"

"Are you?"

He's so pedantic you could scream. Instead, you giggle. Shrug as you lean forward to slide your chopsticks beneath one of the fermented perilla leaves. Say, "Give me a hand?"

Of all the things Jeongguk wants to give you right now, a hand is definitely one of them. Maybe not in the way you're requesting, but fuck . He's insatiable whenever you're like this. Impatient .

Yet, he does as he's asked. Splits the leaves for you. Wonders how out of pocket a marriage proposal would be, even if he is just joking.

Instead, he asks, "If we go somewhere else after this, can it count as date two?"

"No."

"Byeol," he whines.

"No," you laugh, knowing exactly why he's asking. "You can't get me into bed that easily. Can't speed up the process. You gotta earn it."

He has earned it. You know it, he knows it. Everyone who looks your way knows it. Your want for him is written all over your face, cosmic eyes shooting up like stars every time you glance his way.

"The process is dumb," he pouts.

"The process is necessary," you insist, though you really are doubting it now.

"The process has already been done," he assures you, though you're not sure his maths is adding up. This is still just date one of five.

Thing is, Jeongguk sees eating together as more of a daily routine thing. It's not special enough - but it's what he said he'd do in the midst of a fuck that felt like a whole lot more, so he had to see it through. Had to make sure your expectations were met. Didn't want you to be disappointed if he didn't follow through.

"We've basically been ' together ' for fuckin' ages, now," he continues, lips a hell of a lot looser now that he's got soju swarming through his veins. Cares not to hide how he views things between you. "The rules are redundant 'cause we already know each other like the back of our hands."

"So?" You toy, enjoying this slightly desperate side to Jeongguk. You normally only get to see it in bed. Nice to witness it fully clothed, even if it does make you wanna disregard the rules you're so desperately trying to enforce. "Think about how good it will be when you finally get me how you want me."

"It'll just be embarrassing," he assures you, thankful that the chatter around you drowns out the conversation you're having. "I'll finish, in like, 2 seconds."

"No different to usual, then."

"Fuck you."

"No," you smirk. "That's the whole issue, remember? We're not allowed to."

"Swear you get off on my pain," he grumbles, topping up both of your glasses with the dregs of the beer left in the bottle. Pours you both water, too. Definitely hasn't had enough, so he doubts you have, either. "Is this what our relationship is gonna look like, huh? You torturing me for the fun of it?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself," you tease him with a playful smile. "I'm not your girlfriend."

He just shrugs again. "Yet."

Your lips purse. Smile hides. Eyes sparkle.

Yet , you think.

As if he can read your mind, he just nods slowly. Yet .

No time is given to dwell on such a small word, for Jeongguk gets already on his feet and heads over to pay. Doesn't even give you the option of offering to go halves, because it is a date, and he does want to tick all the boxes. Make you happy.

And he does. You are.

The restaurant you're in is a few floors up from the street. A skincare shop is on the bottom floor and a kitchen on the next one up. The staircase is themed, adjacent to the restaurant. Has a vibe about it that just begs to be photographed - which is obviously an intentional, marketing ploy, given by the sheer amount of mirrors available on the descent. All branded with a small tag in the corner, you know if you searched it on insta, heaps of selfies would pop up.

Grabbing his blazer from the booth, Jeongguk ushers you towards the staircase, Drapes his blazer over your shoulders, even if you aren't complaining about the cold yet. He knows you will.

Even though he's not been wearing it, there's a warmth about his blazer. His aftershave is stuck in the fibres. Divine. Fresh. Dreamy.

"Wait," you hum as you get to the biggest mirror of the staircase. It's full length. Dimly lit, with neons in the background to give it a vibe that you know girls on the gram will just eat up.

Jeongguk pulls you to stand in front of him ever so slightly. Takes your phone from your hand and slides the screen across to auto-unlock the camera.

Pictures taken together are a rarity, normally always with your other friends. Never just you two. Not since the photobooth in Busan.

He thinks about it often, mainly 'cause every time he sits at his computer desk, he can see them poking out from behind another poster. He keeps them up, a little obscured so that Jimin never notices them, but so he can always feel their presence.

"Should document it," he narrates the choices he's making. "Evidence of our little dating experiment."

It's not what he wants to say. Not what he's thinking. If he were being honest, he'd say 'evidence to show our grandchildren.'

"You're such a romantic," you tease with a roll of your eyes, but naturally find yourself leaning into a pose.

Though Jeongguk once told Yoongi he wouldn't want his relationships plastered all over instagram, he's positioning himself in the perfect soft launch pose. Hangs his arm over your shoulder, tattoos on full display now that his blazer is draped over your shoulders. Covers his face with the phone, and lets you take centre stage.

He thinks he'd quite like to end up on your feed. Not just your story.

The refracted light of a disco ball in the corner of the staircase glitters down on you both, dappling you in pockets of luminance.

"Well, what do you want me to say?" He replies with a smile, tone matching yours as your fingers reach up to link with his. He takes another photo. Switches the camera to record. Looks down towards you. Says, "That I wanna preserve this? That I want to keep this moment forever? That I want something to show future generations?"

None-the-wiser of your rolling camera, you shrug. Smile, looking at you both in the mirror. Look up to him.

"Are you this forward with all your first dates?"

"Only the ones I know I have a future with."

"Oh?" You question, turning your body to face his. The hand that had been slung over your shoulder comes to rub tenderly up and down your back. "You're pretty confident."

He nods, smile soft as his dark eyes just drink you in. There's a giddy feeling in his stomach, and it's not just the alcohol. "Should I not be?"

The familiarity of Jeongguk is only exacerbated as his nose nudges up against yours.

It's tender, and tepid, and he knows better than to be so affectionate with another person in such a public space, but he doesn't care. Felt distant from you when he was across the table; like the supply to his oxygen was being stifled, but now he can breathe again.

You don't resist as he steals a kiss. It's small. Tepid. A punctuation mark for a question that really shouldn't make you feel as head over heels as it does.

"I never said that," you smile, his nose resting against yours as he locks your phone. Will let you find that video some other time. Wishes he was still recording when you say, "I think it's something worth preserving. Think I'll wanna look back on it too."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm," you mumble into his lips, sinking into another forbidden kiss. "For when we're old and grey and I'm reminiscing over my former lovers."

You're deliberately downplaying how you feel; how you know that there'll never be another lover after him.

If Jeongguk chooses not to see this through, then that's it.

At the ripe old age of twenty-seven, you've determined that no man nor woman could ever compare to him.

His particular cluster of cells is just the right one for you; the right combination of stardust.

If you ever find yourself trapped between sheets with someone else, they'd be nothing more than a misplaced life experience. Not one for the history books. Names wouldn't be remembered, the feeling long-forgotten by the time you're reminiscing.

But not Jeongguk. Never Jeongguk.

It's terrifying to look at another human and know the course of your life is forever changed because of them.

But it's comforting—so, so comforting—when replies, "Former? B, if I'm not covered in your fuckin' glitter on my death bed then I'll... I don't know," he laughs. "Haunt you? I don't fuckin' know. Just take fuckin' former outta your mouth when you talk about us."

"You're so lucky we're in public right now," you sigh a little dreamily.

"Why's that?"

"You're, like, one right sentence away from me getting to my knees."

"Don't say that," Jeongguk groans with a smile. Shakes his head. His nose strokes against yours like it so often does, even closer than before. In fact, he's so close that you can feel his lips as he husks, "Lets get outta here, B."

Shaking your head, you smile. "Ask nicely."

Jeongguk pulls away, and tugs on your hand to have him following you. "You gotta stop being so..."

"So?"

"So you ," he laughs, as you head down the stairs. "Swear you live to wind me up."

"I do," you assure him. "Is it working?"

Leading you down the stairs and onto the bustling city street, Jeongguk likes how much of a menace you insist on being.

Drunk revellers line the pavements, so his grip is tight. He's keeping you close. Smiling with every innocuous statement said by you, then glaring at every fucker who looks your way. You never notice. Are too busy knocking into his chest with every step, glitter no doubt embedding itself in the cotton of his shirt.

He won't complain. Will never complain.

Too late for the subway, and with his car parked up still at his place, a taxi is your only solution to get back to your place. A little too far from town, the walk would take just over an hour, and honestly, neither of you fancy it.

Issue is, getting a taxi at this time of night is hellish, too.

"Just stay at mine," Jeongguk insists as you wait by the taxi rank. Thinks it's a no-brainer. He and Jimin live in the city centre. It's the perfect compromise. "We've done it a hundred times over. Are perfectly capable of—"

"No we're not," you laugh. "All I have to do is look at you in the right way and you get hard."

"So don't look at me," he laughs right back, not even caring to protest it, pulling you in for a hug to stop you from jittering around. It's still cold, May yet to greet you both the bloom of a new season. The blossoms of spring wilted away at the start of the month, but it's still not summer quite yet.

"Or maybe you shouldn't look at me ."

"How can I not?" He whines into your hair, pressing a kiss down on the top of your head. "You're so pretty tonight. So pretty all the time."

Pretty, he thinks when you look at him like that.

Pretty, when you do eventually start walking home with him, and the lights of noraebang entryways shinedown on you, colourful and contrasting your silvery shine. Pretty when you giggle. Pretty when he tugs on your hand and pulls you into a sidestreet for a moment or two whenever your teasing gets a little too much.

He'll always say something like, "If I can't kiss you in the next three minutes, I'll die," or, "Is that what you want? My death on your hands?"

And you'll always reply with something like, "You're lucky I don't fancy going to jail tonight."

Sometimes you don't reply at all. Sometimes, you just kiss him. No games.

Just him, and you, and the physical manifestation of the way you feel about him.

The walk back to his place is made far longer than it needs to be. Detours are taken, and wrong turns are deliberately walked down just to give you both more time together. More, more, more is all you ever seem to want from one another.

And yet as you get back to his place, Jeongguk is the one to start arranging the bedding that separates you. Gets all the pillows he can find in his apartment, and begins to make a little nest beside his bed. Keeps the good pillows on his bed, 'cause that's where you'll be, and he wants you comfy.

A boundary was set by you, so as much as he can whine or complain, he'll always respect it.

In fact, if you were to turn around now and say 'fuck it', he'd be the one to reinforce it. Knows you've both had a little too much to drink. Doesn't want you doing anything you'll regret.

"C'mon," he says fondly, coming to stand in front of you at the end of his bed. Cups your jaw and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Let's get washed up, B. Teeth, then bed."

The way Jeongguk feels the need to always take care of you is sweet. Tender. Careful. He fears doing the wrong thing so often, that his default is to be overwhelmingly good.

Comfort is found in this routine of yours.

Domestic, it's sort of devastating when you realise how well-acquainted you are with one another's habits.

He finishes his teeth brushing just before you, 'cause he knows you always like to be the last to finish for some weird, competitive reason.

Knows you sleep with your hair up, cause you hate the way it feels around your neck, so gently slides out the pin keeping half of it up. Lets it tumble down as you come to the end of your brushing, but scoops it back before you go to rid your mouth of toothpaste. Says nothing, still, as he ties your hair up with the thin band around his wrist.

Teeth clean, you turn to face him. Let his body press against yours. Encourage it, in fact, then give no resistance as he drags you to the left of the sink, nor when he hooks his arm beneath your ass and lifts you to perch on the counter.

"So pretty," he whispers, tucking back some loose strands he missed. Just you and him, Jimin's already asleep in the room next door. The apartment is silent save for the thudding of your beating hearts, that carry the weight of an orchestra on their base notes. You'll be a symphony, one day. "You know that right? Prettiest thing I've ever seen. Sparkliest, too."

If Jeongguk were to sit down and think about it, he could probably write a fuckin' sonnet.

But he's drunk, and he's sleepy, and you're just so pretty.

Forehead resting against yours, there's no desire for him to take this further. No need for him to elevate this. All he wants— truly —is for you to know he means it. Not just on a superficial level. On a deeply human, richly complex level.

You make him—his heart —feel pretty, too.

And so even though his nose nudges against yours, lips trembling, he doesn't kiss you. Won't sully his words with overwhelming physical passion. Instead, he lifts you. Carries you to his room. Sets you down on his bed without a single word.

Crazy, how a touch so tender can send you reeling; wanting. His silence is maddening.

It scares you. Worries you that maybe he isn't saying anything because anything he does say will upset you.

It prevails as you turn away from one another to get changed. He strips to his boxers, and you adopt a shirt of his that's been tossed over the back of his desk chair. No different to usual.

But as you settle into bed, and listen to him do the same, it's his voice that breaks the barrier. Bulldozes the wall you had begun to put up around yourself in an act of self-preservation.

"What do you even like about me, B?"

Barely a whisper, it's almost like he's scared of being heard; as if whatever answer you give will devastate him.

So fixated on everything he likes about you, he's beginning to realise that he can't really work out why someone like you would ever go for someone like him.

He's unestablished. Unstable in his career. Has barely finished school. Has no money, or at least not enough to provide you with any of the good stuff in life. Not yet, at least. 

You had to spend an eternity listening to him whine about an ex that has proven herself to be pretty fuckin' awful. You live with the knowledge of all that he's done in pursuit of her. How desperate and pathetic he was.

The monsters that go bump in the night in Jeongguk's room live inside his head. They lie to him; tell him he's unworthy of the things he earned. Whether it be the business he's setting up, or the girl he's been fawning over for months, everything just appears a little out of grasp.

Like a donkey chasing a carrot, he runs and runs. Pursues his desires but can never reach them. He's asking for a lifeline, now. Is desperate.

"In what way?" you ask.

You'll give him a list as long as Jimin's Dionysus bar tab, if he wants. Can think of a million little things you adore—but you're scared, too. Vulnerability has never come easy to either of you.

It's a little ridiculous by now, how you both manage to let the devils on your shoulders worm their way into your ears and corrupt your brains. In the dark of night, it's easier for them to creep in. Less light to reflect upon the glitter that would typically keep them at bay.

"You know what way."

It's true. You do. Of course, you do.

Talk is cheap, you always think. Actions speak louder than words, or so has been the case for Jeon Jeongguk since the moment you met him - but it's words he needs now. Words that will soothe his brain. Words that will wrap around his insecurities.

Insecurities that are exacerbated by the fact you don't want to share a bed with him anymore, and the way your touch has become something that's withheld until he proves himself.

He doesn't even realise the way his mind is chalking up this new rearrangement. Doesn't understand that the slightly sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach is anxiety.

Change is never easy, but he knows it's often good. Even with this in mind, Jeongguk feels pretty awful. Maybe it's just the alcohol wearing thin. Maybe he just needs to sleep.

He never wanted things to change. Wanted things to stay exactly how they were. He told you this. All he wanted was the security that you wanted him, too—but now there are rules, and boxes to tick, and a change in a dynamic that he quite frankly thought was perfect before.

With these changes comes a physical distance, of course, yet it's manifesting itself emotionally in a way that you really should have predicted.

He's clingy . Always has been. Always keeps you close.

And now that he can't, he needs something to fill the space left by your prohibited touch.

A similar pang of discomfort washes over you; matches his dis-ease.

"So many things," you start, because it's hard to pick just one.

He stays silent. Knows you're working through your thoughts. Feels embarrassed to be asking for such attention, but he just needs something, anything , to remedy his brain.

The distance between you seems to grow in the silence, much like it did in your apartment when he showed up with his last birds.

Together, you're like an elastic band that just stretches and stretches and—

"Can I come down there, Gguk?"

You're stretching, still. The silence is empty around you as he tries to find the right response.

He gives up. Begs, "Please."

And so— ping .

You snap right back.

Pulling his bedding to the floor, you build an even bigger nest. Snuggle up beside him. Give no resistance, as he pulls you closer. Gets you beneath the same duvet. Shirtless, Jeongguk remains warm to the touch, and your hands remain gentle on his skin.

Both of you take a second to indulge in the closeness. Your leg hooks over his hip, his hand stroking up the back of your thigh as you do so, but it's not taken beyond the simplicity of what it is.

This isn't about sex.

It's about intimacy; about his heart, and how he foolishly felt like glitter had been replaced with shards of glass.

Remedied, Jeongguk can breathe again.

"I like your work ethic," you eventually whisper, brushing back a few strands of his hair, the darkness of the room not obscuring your star boy entirely. He adjusts slightly. Strokes your hip. Nudges his nose up against yours—not for anything other than for the fact he can. Doesn't kiss you. Lets you talk. "You work so hard, Gguk. So hard."

He stays silent. Asked for compliments, but doesn't really know how to respond to them.

So you give him more. Slide your hand up his throat, until his ear rests between your thumb and index finger, nails softly scratching his scalp.

"I also like your hair," you admit, because you're touching it, and it comes to mind, and because you don't think you tell him enough.

"Wanna grow it again," he mumbles, ever critical of himself.

"If you want to, you should," you tell him. "But it always reminds me of when we met when it's like this. I like it both ways."

"Your memory is good," he sort of derails the conversation.

"I remember 'cause it's important," you tell him—then decide to put the carriage of whatever fuck this is back on course. "I remember 'cause you're important, Gguk."

"Even back then?"

"God, especially back then," you insist. "You were so kind. So kind. Kind when you didn't have to be. Barely knew me and yet you made me feel so safe."

"Anyone would have—"

"No," you firmly interject. "Not just anyone. I went to a lot of bars last spring and not a single barman was making sure their punters were getting water. Only you. You go above and beyond for people. It's admirable. I like that. I like how kind you are. God, Gguk, the list is endless."

"Endless?"

"Endless. I like so much about you. So much." And you're not sure if you should continue listing out things, because you fear saying a little too much. Worry that the true nature of your feelings is a little too much for the freshness of this new endeavour. "I just... you're the best person I know. Truly."

He takes a second to fully digest your words. Appreciates them. You. The way you're willing to meet him halfway, and stop him from going off the deep end.

"Will you stay down here?" He whispers against your lips. The delicacy of such a touch leaves you a little breathless, even if it's not his intention. "No funny business. Just wanna be with you, B."

If anything, the lack of Jeongguk's desire for anything physical only makes you want him more. It's bizarre to be in such a state of yearning for someone right in front of you.

It's not like you're particularly in the mood, or deprived, or anything like that - it's just the perfect example of why cultivating intimacy is such a disaster for you. Makes you realise why it's always so impossible to stay away from one another. Sex is never just sex. Not with Jeongguk.

Cut from the same cloth, it's a shared language; one that you only ever speak together.

Nodding, you say, "I'll stay."

Together, you curl into a position more suitable for sleep. He takes the position of the little spoon, 'cause facing one another is dangerous, and so is having his dick to your back. Neither of you are stupid.

At least, you like to pretend you're not.

In the night, you twist and turn regardless. Change positions half a dozen times. Wake up with his arm wrapped over your waist, your body tucked up against his. He's the big spoon now.

"Ignore it," he grumbles into your hair when he feels you begin to stir.

"Impossible," you sleepily hum into the pillows, needing absolutely no confirmation of what he's talking about. Can feel him digging into your back. "Too big."

"Oh yeah?" he smirks, and presses a kiss to the back of your hair. Tightens his grip around, to say a silent morning.

"Mhmm," you confirm. "You can add it to the list of things I like about you."

"Fuck off," he scolds, but you can hear the smile in his tone.

"In fact, put it at the top of the list."

"The top?!" He protests—yet he's holding you ever tighter, still.

"Mmm, maybe just behind the free drinks at Dionysus."

"Don't remind me of work," he whines.

"You in tonight?"

"Mhmm," he regretfully mumbles. "Got a meeting with the bank first, though. Busy day."

"Want me to get going?" you ask, reaching up to grab your phone from the bedside table. Checking the time, you ignore all the texts from Danbi wondering how it went. Will just tell her later. Truthfully, you're not even sure how it went. "It's just gone nine. Want me to get outta your hair?"

"Meeting isn't until one," he tells you, but does add, "I've got some things I need to sort out beforehand."

"Say no more," you offer, stretching yourself out and away from his grasp. He whines and he moans, because he's Jeongguk, and of course he does. You tease him, and tell him not to miss you too much, because you're you, and of course you do.

But all Jeongguk does in your absence is miss you.

Spends most of his time in his bank meeting ignoring the clerk. Will read the paperwork later. Is still frustrated with the situation at hand, still yet to find a solution to his problem. Still yet to tell you about, 'cause he doesn't realise a problem shared is a problem halved. Will keep the bank issue tucked away. Nothing for you to worry about.

When work rolls by, he's checking his phone every few minutes. Earns himself some not-so-subtle side-eyes from Yeonjun. Loses 50k in a bet with him over how long he could go without checking his phone. Jeongguk is adamant he hit the fifteen-minute mark. Yeonjun was timing it. Was eight.

As the week progresses, your schedules aren't aligning. Alongside work, you're prepping Tae's next art show, and becoming painfully aware of how unsustainable it is—especially because the new curator is just as shit as you were warned they would be.

You're not just burning the candle at both ends; it's been dumped in a wax burner. Wick intact, it's the wax that's melting away.

Something's gotta give, and regretfully, it kinda feels like Jeongguk has been the sacrifice.

Stress is becoming well acquainted with you both.

He tries filling his empty space with the gym. It always used to work. Jiyeong still ignores him whenever he turns up, and it suits him just fine, but she has started at least looking ambivalent. The daggers he used to get never cut him particularly deep, but he didn't like the scratches on his skin for merely existing.

Still, his head is full of you—what you're doing, how work is, how he wishes you'd show up at the end of his sessions like you used to do, coffee in hand. Doesn't get why going on dates now means that you don't just hang out like normal.

So he hits personal bests, and has no one to tell when he leaves, shirt sticking to his back, eyes dark. There's a near-permanent ridge between his brows, testosterone up but his drive to do anything about it way down.

He gets coffee by himself, and smiles when the girl at the counter flirts with him like she always, but internally spends the entire interaction telling her to get fucked. She's a nice girl. Jeongguk's sure she's really nice, in fact, but he's so frustrated with everything that he can't even take pleasure from the acknowledgement that he's desired.

Doesn't want it.

Just wants you.

But you're busy, and so is he, and the one evening he thought you might be free to hang out, you had pole with Danbi, so he even finds himself resenting that. It's at that point he knows he's going mad, because what lover of the female anatomy would ever hate that?

He sends you pictures from his bed, and you send him pictures right back, just as innocent as they are illicit. Just shoulders. Lips. Rumpled duvets, that are only really disturbed on one side. Allusions to that fact you'd rather be with one another. Declarations of your yearning without anything tangible.

It's just under a week until Yoongi and Seoyeon's big day, and he worries that you guys will be in an awkward state of limbo. Doesn't want to have to face all your friends and act all normal while you're still in this clumsy stage.

There's a very real fear within Jeongguk that the first date just wasn't... right . That you've had time to think, and know that he isn't suited to you. That his insecurities or neediness have somehow made him unattractive, to you. That you're biding your time until you can figure out a way to let him gently.

And yet come Saturday—

"Thought I was gonna die," Jeongguk desperately husks into your lips, hips pressed to your tummy, your back to your apartment door. He's not even taken his shoes off yet, and for some reason, you're stripping him of his jacket. "Swear my brain doesn't work without you."

"That's, like—" His kisses never let you get more than a word or two out. "—probably not—" God, he's insatiable. "—healthy, babe."

And then he's groaning. Telling you not to call him that. Kissing you even harder just to get his desire out of his system—but it never fuckin' eases. Never does with you.

Just like you'll never stop calling him by the names that make him weak. You like him like this. Like his neediness. He never needs to worry. You know exactly who he is. None of this comes as a surprise.

For now, though, you've gotta reel it in. You've a date to have. One planned by you, this time. One that'll strip you back to who you are—no external pressure to perform, no big need to get it right.

Just you, and him, and little paint (but, sadly, a lot less boobs).

"C'mon," you smile, pulling away, realising maybe you shouldn't have taken his jacket off him (even if it did mean you could get your hands up his shirt in the midst of your makeout session). "Let's go."

The hold that Jeongguk has on your hand as you lead him up the stairs of your apartment block rooftop is loose. Barely there. Just enough. A whisper of a touch; everything that needs to be said.

It tightens in the small enclosure just in front of the door that leads to your roof.

Just you and him, the winding flight of stairs beneath you is empty. Mid-afternoon, it won't be long until the sun sets.

You love this time of year for that very purpose. The setting sun is always far brighter, far bolder, far keener to welcome in your favourite time of day. The longer the stars are in the sky, the more at home you feel.

Jeongguk's always been a bit of a night owl, too. It's fated, perhaps, that he should find himself in a permanent state of yearning for the brightest star he's ever known. It's always the middle of the night when he's with you. Always his favourite time of the day.

Could be seven in the morning, but as long as you're beside him? Favourite time. Could be midday sunshine, but if you're there? Favourite time . Could be a time like right now, mid-afternoon, not a star in the sky, and yet? Favourite time.

You're midnight.

Not in a way that invokes fear or suspicion, like the midnight streets of a busy city, but in a way that invites mystery and intrigue. You're midnight in the same way that Dionysus is; fun, a little ridiculous, and always a good time. Midnight, in how you shine. Sparkle. Midnight, in the way that Jeongguk thinks you must be a dream.

It's the only way to explain how he's stumbled across another human so perfectly out of key. So perfect for him. Immaculate in how you radiate everything Jeongguk desires; flawless in the way you align with him. Body, mind, spirit. All of the cliche things, with none of the cliche.

Though still gentle with his touch, Jeongguk becomes a little more domineering than he had been. Takes control of the position, knowing that the plans beyond the weighty steel door are all yours.

It's not like he minds giving up control. Gladly does it. Just doesn't want you thinking that he takes any of this for granted. Doesn't want you to think he's just going along with what you want, because it's easy. Wants to prove to you that all of his choices right now are deliberate.

That he's intentional. That he's choosing you , not just the path of least resistance.

He pulls you back, and your body naturally turns to face his, like a tide rolling in or the sun setting beyond it. There's silence as you're dragged towards Jeongguk, with only shy giggles to accent your movements when he gets your back pressed to the door.

"No funny business," you remind him as his nose nudges against yours. "We haven't even started date number two. It's the rules, Gguk."

He simply shrugs. Nudges your nose one last time before sinking his lips down into yours—and the way you accept him so willingly would suggest you really don't care all too much about that damn rule.

"Rules are made to be broken," he assures you, lips brushing yours with every mumbled word.

"I'm gonna think you only care about the sex," you warn him softly.

You won't think that at all. You've known him for long enough now to understand how he works; why he doesn't sleep around much. Sex, for Jeongguk, is an extension of himself; how he feels.

So yeah, while Jeongguk might chase his own pleasure during sex, it's never the goal. Not really. It's a nice by-product, sure, but it's not the reason he fucks.

Just like kissing is a declaration for you, the way he gives himself up is a declaration for him. A way to speak his words without having to say anything at all.

He shakes his head against you, lips still pressing down into yours. Groans a little as he pulls away. Rests his forehead on yours, and says, "I fuck you because I care about you. Stupid."

"Calling me stupid isn't gonna make me believe you," you tease him, rolling away from his grasp. Quite like it when he calls you dumb names like that. Makes everything feel so much simpler, like a childhood romance, or something dumb like that. Lowers the stakes. Still, you're pedantic, and he knows this. You'll be bratty, always. "Was working in your favour until you said that. Shame."

Jeongguk just rolls his eyes. Smirks. Relents. Isn't holding your hand anymore and misses it, but knows you need to unlock the door. Says, "You didn't let me finish."

"Finish?" you laugh, twisting the door handle and pushing the door open. Jeongguk's hand comes to press against the metal above your head, helping with the weight of the door.

"Mhmm," he says as natural light pours into the small enclosure, following you as you step out onto the rooftop. "Was gonna say stupid hot . You're stupid hot ."

"You are so full of shit."

Maybe he is bullshitting you. Maybe he's the stupid one. Maybe none of it matters, because the way his hands come to settle on your waist as he follows you in the open space makes you feel all silly inside. Goofy. Stupid .

Oh, how you hate it when he's right.

And when Jeongguk sees what you've got set up on the rooftop for the pair of you—paint, and canvases, and the promise of something sweet blossoming beneath clementine skies—he has to stop himself from blurting out something equally stupid, like 'you're so perfect, ' or, 'I'm so in love with you.'

Instead, he just smiles. Presses a kiss to the curve of your neck. Husks, "We both know how this ends, B."

"Different this time," you tell him, walking in tandem with him over the blanket and cushions that he recognises from your apartment. "Last time you were in denial about how much you like boobs."

"True."

"And so now I don't need to convince you they're the greatest thing on planet Earth."

"What if I just look?" he chances, flopping down onto the surprisingly comfortable surface. "Promise I won't touch?"

"Nope."

"You're so mean, Disco Ball."

"You love it," you tease, coming to lounge by him.

He doesn't say it. Doesn't need to. You both know his little laugh, and the silence that follows means one thing and one thing only.

Yeah, he thinks to himself. Suppose I do.

[ownedbythescribe]

Kaveh | Lily In Your Heart

ıllı Synopsis: Against his overwhelming guilt, how willing is Kaveh to take in your affection? Push. Pull. Such is the relationship between you two, yet you remained patient. You hoped that one day, he will finally open his heart again.

ıllı Genre: Angst, Comfort, Romance

ıllı Notes: Gender Neutral Reader

ıllı Warnings: Spoilers for Kaveh’s Character Story and Khvarena of Good and Evil World Quest, Mention of blood, Cursing

ıllı A/N: This story has been plaguing my mind since I read Kaveh’s character story. I knew I just had to write something about. I’m really happy with how it turned out. (P.S: I love this man so much!)

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have— It should have been me! It’s all my fault! If only I didn’t wish for anything.” He cried, reaching his hand to the forgotten past. Tears streamed down his cheeks as his eyes searched around for hope, but there was nothing.

I stood behind his quivering visage, the words dying on my lips. It was not because I did not know what to say, but the fact that whatever I utter would never reach his ears. From experience, I already knew this was a dream, a memory I garnered from that man.

“Time stops for no one. Not even for him. Hopes and dreams twinkle in every being, but his has started to dim. Reality will catch up to him, one way or another. He cannot turn a blind eye to it for so long.” A gentle voice remarked. I turned to the small figure hovering beside me and greeted her with a nod.

We watched until the memory faded away like sands blown by the wind. It was an indicator of the dream ending. My companion flew in front of me and wiped the tears that had unknowingly trickled down my cheeks.

“Your heart is too pure, (Y/N). I hope you would not lose sight of what is important.” She muttered. I could only offer a small smile to which she returned with an exasperated sigh.

As customary, Sumeru City (known as the Central Hub of Knowledge and Wisdom) was bustling with activity. Students from the Akademiya rushed out to get their businesses and research outside done while others chatted with their friends about topics that were discussed by distinguished professors of the institution. Merchants, on the other hand, hollered the prices of their goods, enticing the common people with the benefits their products bring. There were also children and travelers littering the street of the city. What a mundane scene it was.

Currently, you were trudging up the path to the Sanctuary of Surasthana to report to the Dendro Archon. Lesser Lord Kusanali personally requested your assistance with an issue in the Vourukasha Oasis. According to her, the Traveler had come in contact with the Order of Skeptics (Nagarjunites) and the Pari who required their cooperation with regard to the Sign of Apaosha, which was the sealing in the hole in the sky. The beautiful shade of purple and green in the sky might look captivating to adventurers and travelers, but it held a foreboding essence that kept anyone near it on their toes. In fact, for those who were aware, the Harvisptokhm (the tree emitting the green light) prevented the abyssal power from crashing down on the desert of Sumeru.

“I can’t believe Zurvan and Fedhri kept these from me. I would have aided them should they— I swear, they’re treating me like a child too much.” You rasped. A frown marred your face at the thought of their actions. Before you could ponder more, you reached the sanctuary. It exuded an ethereal aura that you could not help but stand in awe.

Entering in caution, you spotted the person you were looking for. Nahida turned around after hearing the door open and greeted you with a smile. Her companion courteously nodded his head to which you returned with a bow. Taking out the report, you informed her of the current status of the area. Similar to what you gained from the Traveler, the seal at the Tunigi Hollow was indeed weakening. It was only a matter of time before it collapsed. You were unsure how many Pari were left in the oasis due to the inability to visit them, but they might have decreased in number considering the number of plumes of light scattered in Gavireh Lajavard alone.

“Singly from your assessment, the situation must be dire. I’d advise waiting out a report from the Traveler before joining them on their journey. A part of you must be concerned as to why the Pari kept this from you, right?”Nahida started. You looked down in contempt, unable to deny her words. It hurt that they hid it from you, but there must be a reason behind it. As much as you wished to join the Traveler immediately, it would be better if they continue with their progress first to get a better hold of the affair at hand.

“All right. You may dispatch me when you deem it safe for me to go. And don’t worry. I also feel like it’s my duty to see this through.” You grinned at the archon. Nahida returned the gesture before pivoting to her companion, whom you remembered as Wanderer, to give out orders. He did not bat an eye at your stature, but you knew he was aware of your presence. And maybe more.

Stepping out of the sanctuary, you were met with the cool breeze sweeping through your hair. It slowly calmed your nerves, allowing you to take in the sight of the vast rainforest ahead. Somehow, it reminded you of the first time you came into Teyvat. The slightly cold yet inviting waters of the Amrita streamed down your immaculate skin as your lunar eyes skimmed through the vibrant flora that surrounded your visage. The Pari were the first beings who greeted you, and they were the ones who introduced everything Teyvat had to offer. Albeit, it was not the best time years ago, they still did their utmost best.

“Got another mission from the Lesser Lord?” A baritone voice asked, cutting through your thoughts. You glanced to the side and saw Alhaitham walking up while reading his physics book. You were definitely sure he read that particular book several times already.

“Yep! But I have to wait for a couple more days for the Traveler to report back to Nahi— I mean Lesser Lord Kusanali.” You coughed. He shook his head at your cover-up. It was no secret that you have a unique relationship with the Dendro Archon. However, you did not fancy the misconception others might procure should you call her so familiarly, so you opted to call the young goddess by her title.

Alhaitham settled beside you and hummed in acknowledgment. The mission did not involve him, so there was no need for a fuss. The Lesser Lord trusted your capabilities enough to request your support. Small talks were added here and there until you asked him a peculiar question.

“How is Kaveh these days?” The Acting Grand Sage was caught off-guard. He presumed you would implore if Kaveh was available for dinner, walk, or another activity to drag the man into. A chuckle escaped your lips at his stupefied face, already guessing what was running through his head.

“Hmph. Can’t say much, but he’s been the same as usual. Loud and obnoxious. Last time, he even nagged about the dusty books in the living room while I had guests around. The audacity of that guy.” He huffed indignantly, quite agitated by his roommate.

There it was, Alhaitham’s infamous sharp tongue. It always amused you how they could tell each other’s flaws and strengths out loud without mercy (much so with the gray-haired male). One saw a reality he could not perceive for himself, while the other the guilt he had been running away from. Through constant understanding of each other, they forged a path only they could tread.

“Of course, you’ll say that. However, I’m glad that I can finally see diverse emotions on your face now. It seems like Kaveh is a good influence on you. Maybe not the gullible part, but you get what I mean.” You teased. Alhaitham gave you a deadpan look, shaking his head at your antics.

“And how about you? Aren’t you going to invite Kaveh somewhere? You’ve always been on his tail for as long as I recall.” He voiced. You smiled wryly and told him that your current mission needed to be prioritized. It still bothered you why the elder Pari kept the issue in the oasis from you. Alhaitham might not know the whole story about your past, but he understood that the situation may be appalling for you to be making such faces. However, he also had no intention to meddle in supernatural beings’ problems. It would be better to leave it in your hands, knowing that in no time, it would be resolved.

After chatting for a little bit more, you bid him farewell and went to the Grand Bazaar. Nilou was, once again, performing a spectacular dance up on the stage. Her fans kept growing every single day since art was unbanned from the Akademiya. It elated you to see the theatre flourish and have more people appreciate art.

“Hmm? Is that Faruzan?” You mumbled, tilting your head in confusion as to why the Haravatat scholar was in the area.

Walking towards her, you noticed unique books and scrolls being sold by an old man casually sipping tea. They all appeared ancient and valuable, so you decided to check around as well. Faruzan, who was finally out of her stupor, greeted you with vigor. She informed you that the items being sold were famous a hundred years ago, during her time. It piqued your interest, and as you scanned the booth, you found two blueprints from the desert. Kaveh would love it, you thought.

“Is that for Kaveh?” Faruzan asked.

“Why is he the first thing you’d ask? It could be for myself.” You defended. She gave you a blank stare and reasoned out that there was no way you would study complicated prints like that. Rather, you would choose research on elements or pastime novels to scrutinize.

Sighing, you conceded and admitted that it was indeed for the Kshahrewar graduate. She grinned and then paid for her stuff before asking you to join her window shop and eat dinner. Although you would prefer to spend the rest of the day alone, it would help clear your head of worries by frolicking with the cyan-haired scholar around.

“Let’s go! I’ve got a lot to talk about. Let’s start with my latest one. Do you remember Tamimi? So, the Traveler and I went to the desert to….” You let her trail, happy to listen to her rambles.

Kaveh never anticipated his life to end up like this. The memories of his father passing and his mother remarrying in Fontaine (leaving the blond alone) still hunted him to this day. He thought that with compassion and hard work, he would be happy once more, but chasing after a fantasy he called dreams brought him despondency and frustration.

Soon, Kaveh found himself in debt after finishing his magnum opus, the Palace of Alcazarzaray. It became the talk of the town, but hearsays neglected the story behind it. The Light of Ksharehwar (a title that did not sway him) had to pour out his whole savings after an unfortunate event, including his old home (if he could even call a building whose warmth has long extinguished home that is). It cost him arms and legs to finish the project, but he was a martyr who offered his entire fortune to the altar of ideals.

When the Kshahrewar graduate lost his home, he entered a period of melancholy. He was directionless, empty even. Lambad's Tavern became his temporary home. Searching for inspiration became his excuse whenever his acquaintances found him sitting at a lone table by the tavern. When discussing life matters, you and Alhaitham were the hot topic of their talks. He remembered the Scribe due to their joint research years ago, but he did not recognize you. His associates only had a few things to say about you, but they were always about your peculiar aura, behavior, and understanding of the world. That fact flew over his head as the alcohol distorted his thoughts.

Coincidentally, Kaveh met you and Alhaitham in the tavern days later. The latter hoped to have a well-deserved dinner and alcohol. Both of you could tell that he was in a bad situation, and that faithful night, Kaveh poured out his woes. Alhaitham listened intently to his words. On the other hand, you attempted to converse with the blond, who already seemed drunk from a few cups of rose wine.

"Then, how has realizing your ideals gone for you?" The Scribe asked. Kaveh was silent. He did not know what reality to accept anymore. What he yearned for was a fantasy, but in your eyes, it was stupid altruism that only hurt him. Still, he firmly believed in his ideals, even at the cost of losing himself. It was out of instinct, but you found yourself reaching out a hand to sweep away the tears that slid down his cheeks. His will drew you to the man. Alhaitham noticed the strange gesture and turned to you in confusion, but he found you floored and shedding tears.

"Hey, are you all right?" He asked, concerned about your well-being.

"His... His memories hit me hard. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched him so carelessly." You groaned, feeling dizzy at the barrage of memories. As for the blond, he was already passed out on the table, unaware of the predicament he caused. Taking out the handkerchief, you wiped away the dampness in your cheeks. At that moment, the seed of affection had already grown in your heart.

The following day, Alhaitham offered his home to the blond. It was your suggestion, and he found himself agreeing. Most likely because he saw in Kaveh a mirror of himself, projecting what he both possessed and lacked. He had a part of the Scribe that he once imagined, one of the truths he had been searching for. The way he expressed his emotion so openly, his strange intellect and perseverance, as well as his humility amidst illusory altruism drew him in. But in no way would he let Kaveh know any of that lest he inflated his nonexistent ego.

Kaveh continued to live as he was before, but now, with a house to come back to. He would now connect with his friends with an ecstatic aura around him. However, there was one enigma that he could not fathom, more like he could not accept because of trepidation. It was you.

Kaveh believed he should not fall in love because how could he when he only hurt those people around him? Even when he drank and shared moments with Alhaitham, Cyno, and Tighnari, he kept a part of him at arm's length from them. But you? You kept on reaching out to him. Inviting him to stroll around the Avidya Forest, asking him out for dinner in Lambad's Tavern, and enticing him with rare blueprints from the desert that he had not seen before. He realized your intentions, and if he was to be honest, he also learned to like you. Your radiant aura charmed him, but it felt wrong for him.

He surmised it to be the guilt that never left his side.

"Hey, Kaveh! Your head is in the clouds again. The food's getting cold! Eat up." Tighnari nagged. Kaveh blinked owlishly before sheepishly grabbing one panipuri and dipping it in the sauce. He took his wine and watched Alhaitham and Cyno play. The match was heating up, and none of them seemed ready to give up any time soon.

"So, I heard that (Y/N) fancies you? What do you say about that?" The Forest Watcher teased. The blond choked on his wine and reddened, spouting that he could never accept your affection. Tighnari raised an eyebrow at that.

"And why is that?" He pushed.

"It's better if they choose another person than me. I admit that (Y/N) is an outstanding person, but they're too much for me. I... Sometimes, it feels like they know me too much. It's unsettling, but maybe it's just me. I don't want to lead them on." He confessed, keeping the truth to himself. It was better for him to take that secret to the grave.

Alhaitham, with half of his mind in the game, furrowed his eyebrows at his roommate's words. He wanted to voice out his opinions, but your secrets were yours to tell. As for Tighnari, he was about to argue against it when his eyes zeroed in on your stunned figure. His eyes widened in realization. Surely, you heard Kaveh considering you were just a few tables away. Kaveh was confused by his expression until he turned around. There you were, fiddling with your fingers while sporting a pained smile.

Faruzan glanced at you in worry, but you meekly laughed and walked towards their table. Alhaitham was about to greet you when you shook your head and set down the blueprints you found in the bazaar.

"It must have been disturbing. I'm sorry about that. Please take this as my last gift. I'll stay out of your sight for your sake." You murmured. Kaveh flinched and stammered an answer. Under normal circumstances, this would have made you laugh, but your lips quivered from the ache your heart endured. If you say anything else, you were afraid you would break down eventually. Without hesitation, you bowed down and left the tavern.

The Haravatat female whipped her head back to the younger male and glared at him. She gritted her teeth in anger, ready to speak her mind, but she chose to rush out of the building and catch up to you. Kaveh winced at his mistake and abruptly stood from his chair to see if he could apologize, but there was no sign of you outside. Only the buzz of the insects and the murmur of people in the tavern surrounded him.

'You idiot! How could you be so... Ugh!'

Kaveh went back inside solemnly, unable to erase the disheartened look on your face. His heart was heavy with guilt, another misfortune to add to his increasing list. Tighnari noticed the forlorn gleam in his eyes and discerned that his friend failed to apologize and explain himself. Suddenly, a loud sigh could be heard from beside them. Alhaitham precipitously stood up and glowered at him.

“I’m opposed to taking sides in arguments, but how could you let your mouth run like that? And unsettling, you say? You know none of what they’ve been through, fool. Ugh, you irritate me. Don’t even bother coming home.” He spat, leaving the tavern bitterly. It was the first time the Kshahrewar graduate saw his roommate mad. Their usual banter could not even compare to the intensity the Acting Grand Sage exuded.

Cyno turned to Kaveh and consoled him that he could stay in his home in Gandharve Ville for tonight. It was best to reflect on his words before confronting you and Alhaitham about it. Stunned, he could only nod. Tighnari, who was confused by the ordeal, inferred that there was more to you than meets the eye. Based on Alhaitham's claims, he clearly knew something they did not.

“I… I’ll go look for them tomorrow and ask for their forgiveness. They did not deserve that and… Alhaitham's right. How could I call them creepy? I’m so stupid.” He ruefully laughed. The two eyed each other in worry.

The following day, Kaveh roamed the city in search of you. His first stop was the Akademiya. His stomach squeezed in discomfort at the sight of the institution looming over his figure. Memories of his academic days resurfaced, and it was anything but happy. With a heavy sigh, he entered the place and asked the students present in the hall.

"Hi, I hope it's not a bother to ask, but do you know (Y/N)? Is it possible if you could tell me where they are right now?" He adjured.

"(Y/N)? Umm... Oh, is it that creepy senior?" One of the students piped. Kaveh furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and perturbation. Another student recognized the name and confirmed that it was indeed the same person.

"What do you mean?" Kaveh muttered. The young ones before him glanced at each other before recalling their experience with you. It was a year ago when one of them had the opportunity to work with you. As a graduate of your desired Darshan, you did not mind having a junior join you in your research and work outside the Akademiya. However, it was during your journey with them that they noticed your strange behavior which included weirdly knowing their likes and dislikes (they did not explicitly say anything), understanding their emotions, and reading them like an open book. Although there were times when they see you wear gloves or refuse to come into contact with others. You would use the excuse that you were dirty or sick when it did not look the part.

"I still can't believe I survived working under them. I still feel shivers down my spine for how eerie they were. Why are they even part of the Akademiya?" The younger male pointed. Kaveh had enough of his ill words and shook his head. He gave them a cold thanks and left, but not before leaving aggravated words to his juniors.

"You shouldn't bad-mouth your seniors like that just because they could read you like an open book. Your emotions show in your face, stupid."

To say they were flabbergasted by Kaveh's change in attitude was an understatement, but he was too irritated to care. The lack of disrespect did not sit well with him. You worked diligently and would always dedicate a portion of your time to assisting your juniors. How could they treat you as such just because you were not like the others?

"Maybe the professors will know." He mumbled, but even the instructors in the Akademiya shrugged their shoulders, oblivious to your whereabouts. So, he decided to check the Grand Bazaar for any sightings only to come up empty-handed. It was when he noticed a familiar item being sold by an old man casually eating candied nuts.

"Ho? Why hello there, young man. Are you interested in these? Aya, you remind me of the youngster who brought the pricey ones yesterday. They were with a friend who teased them about it. Something about gifting it to the person they fancied? Hohoho, how youthful." He cheered. Kaveh pieced his words together and realized that it was you he was talking about. In his mind, he questioned why you were willing to go to lengths just to receive his affection. It did not make sense to him, and his curiosity pushed him to seek you.

"I'm... taking this one, please. And they sound like a wonderful person." He responded. The old man guffawed once more.

"They are, indeed. What a blessing for me to see a young spirit like them. Hohoho!" He murmured, a flicker of nostalgia present in his sunken eyes. Kaveh caught his words and was about to ask if he could expound on it, but the old man was gone as well as the things he sold. It was like he did not exist in the first place.

'What the....' He was sure he slept well and did not take any strange medications from Tighnari. Was it the stress?

No one from the bazaar seemed to notice what happened, so he merely shook his head and slowly backed away from the place. He carried on with his search for you. However, it was as if you disappeared that night without anyone's knowledge.

Three days later, he sought and asked Faruzan for your whereabouts despite her displeasure with him. She let out an exasperated sigh and meekly answered that she did not catch up to you. When she visited your home, you were not there. Fear crept up in his heart. He did not know where to look for you anymore, then he recalled another person he could consult.

Three knocks on the door, and a 'Come in' echoed from the other side.

"Tch. Now, what brings you here?" Alhaitham sneered. Kaveh winced internally at his temper.

"(Y/N), please tell me where they are." He begged. The Acting Grand Sage placed the quill down and bore his eyes in his own. The architect could feel himself crumble under his intense gaze but remained firm. An apology was in order, and there was no excuse not to do so.

"Why? So that you could hurt them again as those bastards did? So that their heart will be torn once again? Tell me, Kaveh, why should I tell you where they are?" He challenged. Kaveh bit his lower lip in frustration. He disliked Alhaitham's protective nature over you, but he understood where he was coming from. The only question in his mind was what the Acting Grand Sage meant by hurting you again. What happened years ago? For now, he should justify himself in front of the man.

"I... have no excuse. I indeed found how they know me so well disturbing. I don't know how or why, but I want to find out. I also want to apologize. No matter what, they did not deserve that. I feel so guilty, Alhaitham. Please understand that there are a lot of things I'm scared to face. I—" He stopped. Clenching his fist tightly nicked his skin, and blood stained his palm. A loud sigh was heard from the man in front of him.

"Vourukasha Oasis. They briefly mentioned it after begging the Dendro Archon to send them to the desert earlier than planned. Now get out of my office. You've wasted enough of my time." Alhaitham glared. Kaveh, although with difficulty, expressed his gratitude and left immediately.

'Did I do the right thing?' Alhaitham thought to himself. He picked up his quill and resumed his work. It would be up to you whether you would talk to Kaveh or not anyway.

The architect, eager to see you, asked Mehrak for the quickest route to the oasis. His eyes bulged at the distance. He would have to cross the Desert of Hadramaveth and pass Gavireh Lajavard before reaching the Realm of Farakhkert. It was a mystery to him how you reached the oasis in such a small amount of time.

"All right. There's no time to lose!" He muttered, encouraging himself.

The Desert of Hadramaveth seemed clearer to tread now unlike before. He recalled the sandstorm in the region to be harsh and dangerous. Mehrak beeped and warned him that there were Eremites ahead of them. He prepared his weapon and battled his way through. It took him a day and a half just to reach the Sands of Three Canals.

"Mehrak, map please." Kaveh requested, huffing in exhaustion from the long walk they did. Mehrak chimed and projected the map of Sumeru. His eyes squinted at the sight of the Tunigi Hollow and recalled the rumors of a lost Darshan present in the area. From what he remembered, they were called the Order of Skeptics, and they split from the Akademiya due to an incident years ago. There were rumors of internal conflict within the Order, and he wondered what made several of their members side with the Abyss. Desires fueled by evil intent would only result in downfall.

After mapping his route, he resumed his journey. The sand was getting in his shoes, but he shrugged it off and glanced around for danger. It was until he reached the Temir Mountains did he notice the Traveler, Paimon, and another strange creature in the distance. Paimon creased her forehead at his figure and realized it was their architect friend.

"Oh! It's Kaveh. Hey, what are you doing here?" She asked.

"It's nice to see you again. I'm looking for someone. They're a scholar from the Akademiya who goes by the name (Y/N). Have you, in any possible case, encountered them?" Kaveh hoped. The three peered at each other, immediately recognizing your name.

"Why are you looking for (Y/N)? They are back in the oasis, helping out the Pari. By them, I mean this little one over here." Traveler responded, pointing at the scarlet avian-like creature beside them. Before Kaveh could say a thing, another Pari came rushing in. She seemed to be panicking, and by the time she reached them, she poured her worries about you fighting off a bunch of Fatui soldiers.

"(Y/N) is fighting a lot of bad people! It was so scary! I am not sure if they could handle it. Please, Sister Sorush, Yasnapati, Pale Floaty, you've got to save them!" She cried. Kaveh, alarmed by it, pleaded to the Pari to guide him instead. She tilted her head in confusion and demanded who he was.

"Kaveh, my name is Kaveh. I am their friend. Please let me help them." He sought. Sefana examined the architect and ascertained his sincerity. Unlike the humans she encountered, the man before her was earnest and willing to help. She meekly nodded and flew off. Kaveh followed suit, not bothering to listen to the Traveler.

Kaveh arrived at the site only to see a deserted camp, empty of the claimed ferocious Fatui soldiers. Turning to the side, he found you wiping the dust out of your clothes. He blinked owlishly at the sight, confused by the whole ordeal.

"Now, let's go back and ask Zurvan what in Teyvat she was thinking of keeping these from me." You huffed out loud, extinguishing the Hvarna in your hand. But when you spun around, your eyes met that of his crimson ones. You flinched and asked what they were doing in such a dangerous place.

"Especially you, Sefana. Zurvan is going to scold Sorush and me should you stay here. Don't worry about me, I'll be back in a few." You assured the Pari. She rushed to you and hugged your head before heading back to the oasis.

Once she was gone, you gazed back to Kaveh. You sheepishly apologized that he caught sight of you again, so you walked away before he could utter anything. Suddenly, you felt a tight grip on your wrist. You were about to ask what was wrong when he stammered a response. A moment of silence reigned over you two before he found his voice.

"I'm truly sorry about what I said. I... I was just confused and scared because how do you know so much about me? How do you know what to say? I already lost a lot in my life, (Y/N). If it's not evident enough, I'm as miserable as there is. I feel so guilty receiving your affection, so please, just hate me." He begged. You were stunned until you could not hold the amusement in your lips. He was confused by your outburst before you utilized the power of Hvarna and projected your ability.

"I could never despise you, Kaveh. Not in a million or thousand years." You replied, mirth dancing in your eyes.

Bubbles of memories appeared before him. He saw his own and was astonished by the sight. You floated by his side and pointed at one of the memories that made you fall in love with him. It was the time he poured out blood and tears to finish the Palace of Alcazarzaray even when Dori sneered at him for wasting her time and Mora.

"What are you, (Y/N)?" He genuinely asked.

"Hmm, are you sure you can handle what I am, Light of Kshahrewar?" You teased, a lilt echoing in your words. He nodded, eager to understand you.

With a satisfied sigh, you dispersed the bubble of memories and presented your own recollection, mostly those that you remember. Time was cruel. It eroded a number of your beautiful memories.

"I am a Lunar Spirit born from the Amrita, it's the pure water present in the Vourushka Oasis. I grew alongside the Pari, guardians of the oasis meant to protect Sumeru from the Abyss. We have a duty to purify those affected by abyssal corrosion. However, centuries ago, I asked the elder Pari to let me roam Teyvat and learn about the world. I settled in Sumeru for some time. Several people knew my identity such as the Lesser Lord Kusanali, Alhaitham, Wanderer, Traveler, Paimon, and now, you. To answer why I knew so much of you is because of my power as an empath." You explained. Because of your origin, your ability as an empath was amplified. It allowed you to see several memories when you touch people. Kaveh's eyes widened. Now, he discerned the reason for your actions.

"At first, it was just to help you get over your guilt, but eventually, I fell in love with you. I wanted you to know that you also deserve love and happiness and that there is no need for pain to lighten the guilt. I am sure that your family also wishes for you to be happy, Kaveh. What happened in the past was not your fault. Fate... can be fickle, that's all I can say. Your journey as of now may not have been the smoothest, and you remained firm with your ideals. That's the beauty of living. So, I hope that... with my help, you'll open your heart again. Allow yourself to truly feel." You sullenly voiced. Kaveh stared at your form and then at the oasis not far from them. It was strange to have someone figure out the truth he had been running away from. Maybe it was time for him to give his happiness a chance. It might take him a long time, but he would like to take the risk.

Gaining a bit of courage, he turned to you and inquired.

"Will it be all right if I tread this path with you by my side?" This time, it was your turn to flush red at his confession.

"Are you all right having a strange significant other like me?" Anxiety laced your tone. Kaveh reached for your hand and intertwined it with his.

"I couldn't have asked for more."

BONUS:

After your sincere apologies and heartfelt confession, you two returned to the oasis and met up with Zurvan. You demanded an explanation from the elder Pari why they hid it from you, and she explained that your duty was to purify the Amrita pool and energize the Harvisptokhm once it had been healed. She thought that it was not yet the time to do it until Sorush came rushing back with the need to purge the problem.

Moments later, Traveler, Paimon, and Sorush arrived, the latter having a deadpan look on her face. They were right that Sefana failed to assess the situation properly and quickly ran to them for help. Mere Fatui soldiers would not be enough to bring you down.

"Speaking of them. Hey, Traveler, Paimon, Sorush! Over here! I see you've attacked the source of the problem. Thank you!" You cheered. Paimon floated to you and asked if they have to do more.

"Don't worry. Leave the last part to me. You can stand there with Kaveh and the others." You directed.

After walking a few feet from them, you concentrated the Hvarna in your chest. A power, unknown to those watching, accumulated until it burst and went underground. The flora around them became vibrant. Kaveh witnessed a spectacular sight, but one scene that would forever be etched in his mind was your divine look under the mystical glow of the oasis.

Zurvan recognized the look in Kaveh's crimson eyes and asked if he could truly love somebody like you. He was caught off guard by the elder Pari, but he took a deep breath and firmly stated that he would cherish you. The guilt harboring in his heart had been released, and you were the reason for it. It was time he let go of that and choose his happiness this time.

"How bold, human. However, I shall permit. Take care of our Little Lily. They deserve every ounce of love there is to offer." She said.

"That they do." Kaveh agreed, watching the scene before him with contentment.

"Kaveh! Come here! We can bring this home according to Sefana." You gleefully claimed, taking in two Sunyata flower stalks in your arms.

'Home, huh? It's been such a long time since I heard that word earnestly, but with you in it? Yes, I would love to call wherever you are my home.' He thought before joining you, his happiness.

Please do not copy or repost my stories, but notes and reblogs are always appreciated!

[britishassistant]

Bc I love badass yuu moments

I can only imagine if Villain!yuu got one of those.

Like, some other supervillain is trying to take their Territory and it would be a job to the league to take care off, but Crowley put them in charge just to prove something but THEN

This new villain kidnaps one of the first years or yuuken and Yuu goes full on super-badass-villain mode, noone tortures theirs, maybe, sorta, kinda, only friends!

Without any super powers Yuu banes the other villain like the goddam badass they can be and the boys are just .... "that was hot" "oh God I wish that was me"

Anonymous said: When things do go Villain!Yuu’s way, it helps cement that despite their pitfalls they ARE still Crowley’s chosen heir. A new gang try’s to edge into Yuu’s territory and start causing more devastating damage to the city? The next day news reports that old warehouse that the group was using blown to Timbuktu and all the gang members are now being treated for injuries that would have killed them outright if whatever caused the damage wasn’t so scarily precise. Those state officials that were swindling the water treatment plant? They can never work a job ever again with the shear amount of evidence of other crimes they’ve committed being leaked through their own social media accounts.

Thank you for the asks, dear anons!

“Well, aren’t you a sorry lot?”

Jack snarls, twisting in the ropes tying them all to the central pillar in the car park in such a way that the material digs in even harder into Ace’s stomach.

“Agh, quit, you ass-!” He’s barely able to gasp out alongside Deuce’s groan and Epel’s muttering of “Tight, tight, too tight!”

Ortho doesn’t say anything. Hasn’t since one of the guys who took them hit him with some kind of tazer-stick-thing.

The villain just chuckles, strolling around so he’s got a good view of Jack. “Really, when I heard the Supervisor was the Night Raven’s heir, I expected some panache, some machismo from the trusted minions they left guarding their lair. Not…this.”

Epel lets out a wordless growl of rage.

Ace is very aware of the pizza sauce stain on his pants, the beer he spilled on his shirt giving off a wheaty smell.

But he’s never been very good at keeping his mouth shut.

“And I expected that the biggest guy here would actually get his hands dirty rather than hide behind a buncha meatheads,” He calls out. “But I guess we’re all getting disappointed today, huh?”

There’s a pause, and then the sharp click of dress shoes against the concrete.

“I don’t know if the minger here really has the room to criticize, does he boys?” The supervillain makes a show of looking around the hired muscle pretending to lounge about the room, waiting for their mandatory laughter and agreement. “Especially not after the gaffe he pulled.”

Ace glares as this asshole gives him a truly unpleasant smile.

“A-Ace?” Epel says, peering at the side of his face.

“Oh? You mean they don’t know?” The villain mock-gasps. “Well, listen up kiddos, because this is how your little buddy well and truly fucked you over.”

“You bastard—!” Deuce growls, riled up already.

“There he was, ready and poised to hit some button to seal us in or shoot us or unleash whatever toys the Supervisor has tidied away.” The villain boasts dramatically, “But, in the hour of your deepest need, what does our friend here do? Does he act to protect the lair, his comrades?”

Sebek is turning red in a way usually reserved for those who insult his “Malleus-sama”, glaring furiously between Ace and this guy.

“No! Instead, our ginger minger abandons his duty so he can shove some whiny tot into an air vent!” There’s a raucous chorus of laughter and jeering that sets Ace’s teeth on edge. “And then he let himself go down trying to keep you boys from grabbing her! I’d be moved to tears, if it wasn’t so hilarious!!”

He feels his jaw grind so hard it hurts.

“What sort of moron sacrifices himself so a brat could get away?” The villain looms over Ace. “Some friendly advice, newbie. The infant and her sippy cup aren’t going to save you.”

The gob of saliva that hits him in the eye stings.

“Better that than going around with a face like some kinda freakish overgrown rat.” He snarks, the smirk on his face almost a snarl. “Seriously, have you ever even looked in a mirror? Or wait, my bad, is this what you look like when you’re actually trying to look normal?”

The laughter cuts off.

It’s fast enough that Ace feels the ropes shift as the others look around.

Blinking to try and clear his vision, Ace glances up.

The villain’s face has gone a deep puce, blood veins bulging in his forehead, eyes, and neck, a fearsome grimace turning his expression truly bestial.

“Tazer!” He snarls.

“But boss—!”

“Tazer!!” The villain roars, spittle frothing at his lips.

Some muscle-bound chump scurries up with his tail between his legs, offering that black stick that took Ortho out so easily.

It whines as the villain jams it on, sparks crackling off the end.

“A rat, am I?” The villain mutters, advancing on Ace as he presses himself back against the pillar. “A rat?! You dare…I’ll show you. I’ll show you what a rat looks like, you miserable, squirming vermin!!”

Ace can’t help yelping as he sees the baton come down, eyes squeezed shut—!

There’s a shout and a…caw?

Ace cracks one eye open.

The villain is clutching his baton hand, dripping blood from deep gouges into the meat of his fingers.

Staring after a huge, familiar black bird that’s flying off with the baton in its talons.

“Di-Diavolo!” He hears Deuce call out.

He watches as Diavolo soars up into the rafters, and merges into the darkness above them. Darkness, he realizes with a start, that has somehow grown teeming with thousands of beady eyes and rustling feathers.

Black birds.

Hundreds upon hundreds of them, staring down at them from the walls and rafters with an intent that sends chills down Ace’s spine.

“Wh-what the hell?!” Yells one of the thugs.

“You know, Ace,” Comes a voice that could be called nonchalant if it wasn’t for the slight tremor in its words. “You can be really cool when you let yourself be.”

Ace can’t help the grin that curves across his face even as he want to break down. “Like you’re one to talk!! What the hell took ya so long?!”

Yuu gives a tiny smile, and huffs a small, wry laugh.

Then the expression drops from their face, and the Supervisor glares imperiously down at their enemies.

“And you.” The click of their high heels is as sharp as their tone. “You’ve got some nerve, attacking my lair, hurting my minions.”

The villain scoffs, attempting to slick his hair back as he turns to face them. “The Supervisor, I presume? I’m—”

“I don’t care.” The Supervisor cuts in. “You’ll be nobody once I hand you over to that detective waiting outside. Nice guy, even bothered by a small timer like you.”

“Small timer?!” The villain growls, sweat beading his brow. “How dare you?!”

Grim lets out a low, growling cackle from where he’s lounging across Yuu’s shoulders, looking menacing for once in his life. “Yeah, rat-face! A rodent like you better bow down before the great Grim-sama!”

The villain bulges in anger, tremors wracking his frame.

“Ge-GET THEM!!” He yells. “BRING ME THAT UPSTART’S HEAD!!”

The thugs advance on Yuu, brandishing pipes and knuckle dusters.

“Alright, guys.” The Supervisor rolls their neck as Grim rises to pounce. “Lab rules. This’ll get loud.”

At those words, Ace’s eyes automatically shut again and he turns to press his face into Sebek’s shoulder, as he feels Epel press against his.

There’s a cacophony of caws and the rattle of their dropped cargo. The blinding blasts of light and BOOMS of the charges detonating flash against his eyelids, feeling the foundations tremble under him.

He opens his eyes to see the goons on the floor, groaning in pain.

The villain is the last left standing, heaving in outrage before charging at the Supervisor with a reckless, infuriated scream.

Grim rears up and unleashes a torrent of fire in the bastard’s face.

As he stumbles away, scrabbling at the flames on his hair and clothes, the birds descend upon him in a flurry of sharp beaks and talons.

With a yell he swats out, attempting to drive off the flock. And some of them do retreat, descending on the thugs that were trying to get up.

Creating an opening for the Supervisor to drive the baton into the villain’s throat with ruthless efficiency.

There’s the whine of electricity and a high-pitched scream.

Ace watches as the bastard topples to the ground.

The breath rushes out of him.

“Human!” Sebek shouts, blowing out Ace’s eardrums. “Quit resting on your laurels! The robot needs medical attention, urgently!”

“R-right!” Yuu straightens, rushing over with a pair of bolt cutters, babbling as they saw at the ropes. “I-Idia’s waiting back at the lair to fix him up, we’ll go out the back so we can avoid the detective, and the heroes. Diavolo and company will make sure these jerks aren’t going anywhere we don’t want them, and meet us back at the lair later. I don’t think they can arrest birds, so it should be fine?”

“Right. Let’s move.” Jack still has the burr of a growl in his voice as he shakes off the ropes, turning to Ortho besides him and scooping him up gently.

Epel is scavenging a pipe while Deuce is already up scouting out their escape route. Sebek begins bickering with Grim over whether he has to call him “Grim-sama” now or ever, taking a protective position at the rear.

Yuu falls back alongside Ace, offering a shoulder for him to lean on.

“Elena’s alright.” They mutter to him quietly. “She was in a bit of a state when she found me, but she’s home safe and sound. I promised we’d call in the car so she could hear you’re all okay.”

Ace can’t help the small grin that quirks his lips. “A~ah. At least that turned out okay. It’d be a real pain if she got herself kidnapped after all the shit I went through.”

Yuu smiles, broad and real. “Mr. Martin and Mr. Jon are very grateful to you, you know. I think they’re going to give you a present. A homemade sweater perhaps.”

“Geh!” He scowls at them. “What, is that some kinda punishment?! If they wanna reward me, I’ll take cash. Or food. Either or, I’m not picky.”

“The hell you sayin’, yer bein’ picky right now.” Epel interjects ahead of them.

Ace blows a raspberry. Jack lets out a chuckle and Yuu giggles next to him. Ortho somehow looks more like he’s sleeping than he did before. Sebek and Grim’s argument is reaching new levels of volume. Deuce is holding the door open to where the escape vehicle is parked outside on a double yellow line.

Ace lets himself be hustled into the car, and enjoys the moment of comfort and safety.

[thebetawolfgirl]

Bonding Time pt9

Pairing: Timmy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Smut and then some more smut!

A/N: A bit later than I wanted to post it, but it’s been nonstop today!

Bonding Time part 9

Y/n looked at her outfit in the mirror and sighed as Timmy watched from the bed, she quickly stripped and tossed the dress aside grabbing another one.

‘Baby, you’ve tried eight dresses on so far, just pick one. You will look beautiful no matter what you wear.’

‘I don’t actually know why I’m so stressed out about this. We’ve met with mom’s friends hundreds of times-‘

‘But not as a couple, last time you saw them we were at each other’s throats, literally. Anyway, who cares what your mom’s friends think? None of them can judge.’

‘One of them is Sarah’s mother, Timmy! And Stacey’s mom will be there too you know.’

Timmy rolled his eyes lighting a cigarette. ‘Imagine my fear! I broke it off with Stacey weeks ago. She’ll be with her next plaything already. Not my problem if she hasn’t told her mother yet.’

Y/n finally settled on a blood red halter dress and walked over to him pinching his smoke and putting it out, before he pulled her on top of him kissing her.

‘That’s a lovely dress did someone buy it for you?’ He asked smirking wrapping his arms around her.

She smirked back. ‘Yes my boyfriend did.’

‘Ahh he has good taste.’ He smiled and sat up with her on his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist.

‘We do this today and that’s us. We’re done with the sneaking around and keeping secrets, we can be ourselves.’

‘That will be nice. Just Sarah to deal with then.’

She played with the buttons of his shirt watching him as he rolled his eyes.

‘Fuck her, she’s insignificant now. If she has an issue after all this time she can complain about it to her therapist. And none of that family can judge, her mother was her father’s apprentice and young assistant who he knocked up while he was still married to his first wife.’

Y/n sighed nodding and pecked his lips gently smiling before moving off him.

‘We need to get going, we don’t want to be late.’

‘I’m going to show you off to everyone. I don’t give a fuck who doesn’t like it. All those old ladies can all go to hell. Except Elaine, of course.’ He smiled standing up and kissed her hand.

She smiled back and left the apartment together.

When they arrived at the restaurant everyone was already seated and were waiting for them before ordering, y/n saw Sarah and Emma were both there and chose to ignore her and squeezed Timmy’s hand for support.

She knew he was curious as to why they were both there but Stacey was nowhere to be seen.

Y/n also knew that Timmy would now be full on with his affection just to rub it in Sarah’s face and she had no issue with that.

Y/n looked around at the surprised faces of her mother’s friends and smiled.

‘Are we ordering then? I’m starving!’

She states grabbing a menu and sharing it with Timmy.

‘Is that all you have to say?’ Sarah blurted out.

‘Are you really going to make a scene, therefore embarrassing your mother in front of all her friends in the middle of a busy restaurant Sarah?’

Sarah stopped and looked over at her mother who was glaring. Y/n leaned over to Sarah’s mother smiling ‘By the way Mrs Winston, I forgot to say when I came in, I love your stole, is it new?’

‘Oh yes, thank you dear for noticing. Mr Winston bought it for me while he was in Italy last month.’

‘It’s so beautiful. It’s so lovely to have someone who spoils you with such wonderful gifts isn’t it?’

She looks over smiling at Timmy, ‘Timmy is always spoiling with lovely things, just last week he surprised me by taking me on a boat ride, with a beautiful view of the entire city. Then we had a picnic in Central park. He’s always doing things like that for me.’

‘Well that’s all that matters y/n, finding someone who cherishes and respects you and treats you like royalty is very important.’ Mrs Winston smiled and patted y/n’s hand as her daughter looked on shocked ‘Mom their parents are MARRIED! It’s wrong!’

‘Love is wrong, Sarah?’ She challenged her daughter with a raised eyebrow.

‘You know, dear if you spent a little less time being so interested in everyone else’s business and began living your own life, you could find a love like theirs. You could find a little bit of happiness of your own.’

Sarah looked down and crossed her arms across her chest now in a huff.

Y/n rolled her eyes at her friend’s childishness and immaturity as the food was set down in front of them.

The fact that Mrs Winston who was the most judgemental woman in her mother’s circle was accepting of them was a huge thing, so y/n relaxed and enjoyed her meal.

Timmy lay his hand on y/n’s leg when the first course was finished and raised it up higher slightly under the hem of her dress.

‘Forgive me, but can someone show me to the little boy’s room?’

Y/n wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood up,

‘I’ll show you, I need to reapply my lipstick anyway.’

She smiled at everyone as she led Timmy to the restrooms, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her into another room off to the side and shoved her against the wall attacking her neck and slid his fingers up her dress.

She gasped loudly and wrapped her arms around his shoulders before pulling him up crushing her lips against his in a hungry kiss, he ran his hands up her thighs and grabbed her ass before pulling her underwear off her as she worked on undoing his belt and pants and shoving them down his legs as he picked her up by her thighs and carried her over to a nearby desk making sure not to trip over his pants around his ankles and lay her down breaking the kiss before burying himself balls deep into her already soaking folds.

She gasps and bit her lip to keep from screaming and dug her nails into the desk underneath her, as she felt him going deep repeatedly driving into her hard enough her entire body rocked against his thrusts.

‘T-Timmy don’t s-stop!’ She stammered panting. She reached up and grabbed his shirt pulling him down and kissed him hard as he tucked his arm under her back and ground his hips against hers before pulling her up to sit on the edge of the desk and grabbed her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck as he moved his mouth down her throat pulling her closer against him as he continued to slam his dick into her over and over again.

They fell back together against the table with a dull thud and came in a powerful orgasm together clinging to each other as he buried his face against her neck his hot breath panting against her skin. He lightly dragged his nails down her back leaving light scratch marks on her skin.

She slid her hand up his back under his shirt feeling the damp skin and droplets of sweat rolling down, he hissed against her ear and trails his tongue up her neck before nipping the shell of her ear. She shivered against him catching her breath and wrapped her legs around his waist resting her feet against the edge of the desk as he left wet open mouth kissed along her jaw before reaching her lips and pushed his tongue inside her mouth.

She gripped his jaw and returned the kiss hungrily, running her fingers through his curls.

They broke apart and he helped her up and off the desk before fixing himself quickly, as she fixed her make up and hair, she was looking for her underwear when she saw him with them in his mouth between his teeth looking at her with her devilish gleam in his eye.

She walked over and tried to grab them back but he moved his head away and instead shoved them in his back pocket smirking.

‘You can’t be serious? Timmy give them to me.’ She looked at him shocked as he walked towards the door, she followed him and caught up with him before he could reach for the handle and blocked the door before grabbing him opening his top button and biting down hard on his skin near his collarbone, making him hiss and release a squeak of surprise before he fell against her his forehead against the door behind her as she continued to leave her mark on him.

She was going to be the death of him, he was now completely convinced of it. She was the only woman in this world who could bite him and he became a puddle worth absolutely nothing. She was more addicting than an Class A drug.

In fact who needed Heroin when she bit him that way, she turned his head and kissed him firmly.

She pulled away and opened the door smirking before turning away as he fixed his collar with trembling hands and followed her fixing his hair.

They returned to the table and no one was none the wiser about where they were. In fact when Timmy sat down the women were talking about the latest fashion on the rails right now and Sarah must’ve left early.

Afterwards when they were heading home Timmy wanted to take her back to his where they would have no unwanted visitors and he could have her all to himself tonight.

‘Ok, it would be actually nice to be together without people letting themselves into my apartment as if they live there.’

So they went to his apartment and the moment he got in he had her over his shoulder and carrying her to the bedroom. ‘I want you again!’

He tossed her onto the bed and flipped her onto her stomach and untied her dress from the back before leaning down and biting her shoulder blade making her gasp, she sat up and turned to him grabbing his shirt ripping it open hearing the buttons tear of and scatter everywhere. He grabbed her by her throat before tossing her backwards and removed her dress in one sweep throwing it on the floor and undressed himself, climbing over her.

She ran her fingers up his chest lightly coming to his bite mark and pressing her fingertip against it firmly, making him hiss before pushing into her slowly, making her eyes roll back. He groaned watching her come undone, and began thrusting into her as she reached for him to hold him against her. He melted into her arms his breathing becoming laboured as she held onto him while he thrust into her.

She gasps audibly against his shoulder as she ran her hands down his sides and gripped his hips to signal him to go harder.

She gripped his hips digging her nails into his flesh as he rut in harder than ever, burying his face further against her neck. She knew his waist and hips would be covered in bruises from her fingertips but she had never had him go this deep or hard before.

She ran her hands up his back and dug her nails into his skin scratching him as she panted against his shoulder before leaning down and ran her tongue over his bite mark and he groaned against her and slammed faster into her before grabbing her waist shoving her further up the mattress and flipping them pulling her on top of him without pulling out of her and made her ride him.

She pushed her hands against his chest and rocked against him hard causing the bed to rock against the back wall, as he gripped her waist tightly groaning before he pulled her down and kissed her hard as she rode him as hard as she could.

This was the second time they had gone this intense before, Timmy had rode her so hard today people would definitely see her nail marks on that desk, now she was riding him into the mattress where the bed was moving on it’s own and they both knew the wall behind the bed would be chipped and/or scraped.

It was the fact that people knew now, they wouldn’t need to hide anymore and they could walk around like a proper couple that got them crazy. They came in another earth shattering orgasm panting each other’s names over and over, her hair was sticking to her skin as they tried to catch their breathes, he pulled her up against him and bit down on her neck hard hearing her gasp audibly and grip his hair.

‘Argh! T-Tim.’ He flipped them onto their side and sucked her neck hard making sure to leave a mark, before letting go and kissing up her jawline as she ran her fingers through his curls massaging his scalp, causing him to nuzzle her neck.

‘Y/n.’ He whispers her name like a prayer as he rubs his hands over her back, she pulls on his curls gently causing him to moan her name again. They pulled apart slightly and looked at each other in the dark bedroom before he rolled them letting her lay on her stomach and crawling to lay on her back and wrapped his arms around her waist.

Everyone knew now. Well everyone that was important. They no longer needed to hide. Both their parents new, y/n’s mother’s friends knew, they hadn’t heard anything from Emma but they weren’t too worried about it. Sarah didn’t approve still but they didn’t care about her.

Now it was their own friends group, all they had to do was go ‘public’ so to speak. But this was a whole new adventure they couldn’t wait to explore together.

@sufferingstarlight

@gatoenlaciudad

@kteezy997

@lixzey

@tchalamss

@mel-vaz

[vexic929]

Aftermath

Chapter 1

Chapter 2: link

Warnings: suicidal ideation

Dépite. ひふんこうがい. Martirio.

It was honestly incredible how many words there were for how Hartley was feeling as he left S.T.A.R. Labs for the last time, escorted out by four burly security guards. (That was far too many in Hartley's opinion, probably more for spectacle than any fear on Harrison's part of what Hartley would do.) He didn't want to know what Ramon or Snow or Raymond thought, what lies Harrison would tell them about his abrupt firing. More than likely, he'd make up something about Hartley trying to sabotage their progress. Which was absurd, Hartley had been fiercely dedicated to the project, anyone could see that, but Ramon at least was probably foolish enough to buy it and Snow and Raymond loyal enough to go along with it.

"Get your fucking hands off of me." Hartley snarled as one of the security guards gripped his shoulder when they approached the door.

So much for keeping his cool. But what did it matter anyway, he wasn't coming back here, he didn't need to be professional. The guard merely tightened his grip, giving Hartley a warning glare. Hartley's heart raced with anger and frustration as he shrugged off the hand and stormed out the door.

It was uncharacteristically warm for Missouri in October but he still shivered as a cold sense of betrayal gnawed at his insides. He didn't have anywhere to go, not really. He could go back to the rundown apartment he rented, but what was the point? He felt like little more than a pawn in some twisted game, destined to be sacrificed in the first few moves.

Hartley walked aimlessly through the streets of Central City for what must have been hours. He felt like screaming, like pounding his fists against the pavement until they bled. But he knew it wouldn't change anything.

His mind kept replaying the confrontation over and over again without his permission, the look of smug satisfaction on Harrison's face as he delivered the final blow. So cold, so cruel, so unlike the warm, easy smiles he'd given Hartley on quiet evenings alone. God, he felt sick.

Why did this always happen? Every good thing in his life Hartley had to ruin by opening his damn mouth. He was the common denominator in all of it. It had been his decision to come out to his parents, his decision to go looking for trouble in the accelerator - if he'd just kept his head down, stayed in his place...well, it was too late for that.

It was only the knowledge that he needed to go home and take care of his rats that led him back to his apartment and not off the edge of the nearest bridge. Hamelin and Erdős greeted him as happily as ever when he opened their cage, oblivious to the self-loathing spiral in his head, scurrying up his arms and onto his shoulders to poke their noses into his cheek, begging for treats. Hartley made his way to the kitchen and pulled out the last of the baby carrots from the bag in the fridge, cutting it into small, round pieces.

As Hartley mechanically went through the motions of caring for his pets, his mind kept returning to the injustice of it all. His fury and frustration faded into a bone-deep weariness. He sank into a kitchen chair, his head in his hands, feeling the weight of everything bearing down on him. Hamelin and Erdős paid him no mind, happily munching on carrot slices.

The ache consuming his soul was horribly familiar, his head spinning with a discordant cacophony of memories turned sour. There had to have been warning signs, red flags he'd missed. Harrison wasn't a monster, hadn't seemed so full of hubris that he'd risk the lives of his team and everyone in Central City. He'd been kind, charming...was it all a façade? He'd said he'd loved Hartley, had that just been another lie? Or had Hartley just fucked everything up as he was wont to do?

As Hartley sat there, lost in his thoughts, the despair suffocating, he felt another surge of anger rise within him. Anger at himself for being so blind, anger at Harrison for betraying him, anger at the world for being so cruel - but it left as quickly as it had come, leaving a hollow feeling in his chest. He choked on a sob, the tears hot and bitter, streaming down his cheeks unchecked. He didn't bother wiping them away as he buried his face in his hands, his body trembling as he finally allowed himself to completely break down. He couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that consumed him. He was alone now, truly alone once again, with no one to turn to and nowhere to go. He felt like the terrified, devastated 17-year-old again, not the capable adult he'd become.

Hartley let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow and muffled against his palms. What was the point of being fluent in six languages if he couldn't even make himself heard? Harrison had silenced him as effectively as if he'd cut out his tongue and cut off his hands.

Hamelin and Erdős squeaked from the table, finally making Hartley look up again and wipe the tears off of his face. For a moment, Hartley envied them their simplicity. Their world consisted of food, shelter, and the occasional game of hide-and-seek in the maze he'd built for them. They didn't have to worry about betrayal or lies or the crushing weight of loneliness.

Hartley reached out and stroked Hamelin's fur gently, the repetitive motion soothing to his frazzled nerves and spiraling mind. Erdős squeaked again and squirmed his way under Hartley's hand, demanding attention as well.

Hartley's tears slowed, his breaths shaky but steadier now. He needed to pull himself together, for Hamelin and Erdős if nothing else. The thought of packing up and leaving Central City crossed his mind, of starting fresh somewhere far away from all the pain and betrayal, but he quickly dismissed it. Running away wouldn't solve anything, wouldn't make the hurt go away. Besides, Central City had been his home all his life. He couldn't - wouldn't - let Harrison fucking Wells drive him out of his own city.

With a deep breath, Hartley pushed himself up from the table and wiped his eyes once more, determined to regain some semblance of composure. His mind raced this time with possibilities; with plans for revenge, for redemption, for finding a new path forward. He wouldn't let Harrison win.

With renewed determination, Hartley set about cleaning up the kitchen, tidying his apartment, and making sure Hamelin and Erdős had everything they needed. As the evening wore on and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the living room, Hartley found himself drifting towards his makeshift workbench in the corner. His fingers itched to tinker, to build, to create something new. To build something he could use. He put Hamelin and Erdős back in their cage and sat at the desk to begin sketching, fueled by his newfound loathing of the man he'd given everything to.

~~~~~

Dépite: French for an itching irritation or fury left by a bitter disappointment (such as being rejected by a lover)

ひふんこうがい (hifunkougai): Japanese for a righteous, miserable anger, frustration, or despair over a situation that cannot be changed

Martirio: Spanish for a situation so bad that you feel you must be sanctified after going through it

[valleydean]

SWEET SCIENCE a Heavyweight timestamp by valleydean

Part of 12 Days of Smutmas Now complete on AO3 | Read Heavyweight For River

PREVIEW:

These days, most of the fans stood outside the arena, straining their ears in an attempt to hear the commentator’s booming voice from within over the honking car horns on the street. Somehow, they would find out the results of the bout and swarm beneath the marquee for the victor’s autograph—for a chance to relive even a fraction of the glitz and glamor that had slipped from New York’s grasp and shattered on the floor like a delicate pearl necklace.

In hindsight, the roar of the 1920s was always bound to be silenced. The ‘30s were more of a whimper.

Supper clubs shuttered their doors. Speakeasies were a memory of the past since the repeal of Volstead. Central Park was a city within a city, made of tents and campfires, as more people failed to pay their rent. Most couldn’t afford to feed their children. It went without saying that they no longer had the money to spend on frivolous things like tickets to boxing bouts.

Castiel had certainly felt the difference in his own wallet. Even as a four-year heavyweight world champion, the money was dwindling. The cash prizes were mere fractions of what they had once been. All over the country, fighters had to hang up their gloves and find day work in the factories and mills, vying for spare cash along with the rest of the masses huddled at the tall fences, hands covered in soot and oil.

Dean had even started picking up shifts at the car garage beneath Winchester’s Gym. Castiel had found himself alongside Jack in the shipyards of Brooklyn more than once, hauling imported goods from the barges to trucks. There, no one bat an eye at him. He was treated the same as everyone else who had been fortunate enough to find a wage for the day.

It was safe to say the glory days of boxing were over.

But, walking through the crowd of fans under the marquee beside Dean that night, it was easy to pretend they were still in the halcyon heyday of the sport. Dean had won his bout by knockout in the ninth round. There hadn’t even been the need for an eight count. The commentator had cheered through the speakers, “Pretty Boy Winchester slays the competition and wins the night!”

The crowd pressed in, practically throwing themselves over the barriers, waving pens and pieces of paper. All of them were wrapped up in patched coats and mended, dulled clothes that were at least five years old.

“Mr. Winchester! Mr. Winchester!” they shouted, trying to get his attention. Flashes from handheld cameras washed out the bandages and red cuts on Dean’s face in bursts. Stars were in Castiel’s eyes just from looking at him.

“Mr. Novak! Over here!”

Castiel scribbled his name on whatever was shoved into his face as quickly as he could. Distantly, he wondered how many of these autographs would be sold to make ends meat. Usually, he’d be happy to help feed a family for a day or two with nothing but his signature, but not tonight.

Half of his attention was constantly on the car waiting for them in front of the sidewalk. He needed to get home to pack. It was late, and he and Dean had planned to get up early to drive upstate.

In lieu of Christmas gifts that year, he and Dean had rented a room at a mountain house an hour outside of Manhattan. They would be there through the New Year. It would do them well, Castiel thought, to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city for a while. Besides, now that Sam and his wife, Eileen, had moved back in, in conjunction with working so much, it had been some time since Castiel had Dean all to himself. He was looking forward to it.

More than that, he was impatient for it. Logically, he knew rushing Dean wouldn’t bring the morning any faster, but it was worth a shot.

He shot Dean a look, silently telling him it was time to go. Dean seemed to get the message. He took a step back from the barrier and the hands reaching for him and shouted, “Merry Christmas, everybody!”

The crowd delighted in that, even though it was the day after Christmas.

Castiel waved toward them in general before beelining to the rumbling car. Exhaust coughed out of it into the late December air. Dirty snowbanks melted to slush on the sidewalks. He slipped into the backseat and shimmied over to the far door. Dean got in after him. The driver closed the door after him and started walking around the car. While he was out of sight, Dean grabbed Castiel by the tie and yanked him in for a hard kiss. Castiel melted into it.

He lingered close to Dean’s lips while he said, “Congratulations.”

The driver’s door clicked open, and Dean pulled away. It was a shame. Dean was so warm. The chill of the night hadn’t left Castiel’s bones yet. He rubbed his hands together. Out of sight from the front seat, Dean clasped his hand atop Castiel’s thigh and dragged it up and down.

The car started moving.

“Extra cash is gonna come in handy for New Year’s, huh?” Dean said, patting his breast pocket where the envelope of his earnings was stored. After his team was paid, he was left with a little left than $100. “I mean, gonna have to set some aside so Sammy and Eileen can buy groceries for the week, but—” He shrugged, like it was of little consequence.

Dean was no stranger to living with limited funds. He’d done it for most of his life. But Castiel had thought those days had been over for him. Dean deserved to not have to worry about such things.

“We can have a nice dinner at the inn’s restaurant. My treat,” Dean finished with a grin.

Castiel tried to smile at that, despite the guilt mixing inside of him at the reminder of their limited funds.

There was something Castiel had wanted to tell Dean during their trip, but he didn’t know how Dean would take it. After all, it wasn’t exactly the ideal time to retire.

But it wasn’t just the sport of boxing that had crested its prime. Castiel had, too. He was thirty-three years old, and every punch, every blow, every injury was taking a toll on his body more than it had before. His recovery time seemed to take longer after every bout, and many of the aches remained inside his body, becoming a part of his muscles and bones. He was getting slower, more tired. He’d even fractured his jaw again last year, and the bone still hurt when it was cold out.

He was getting old. At least, too old to be a professional athlete. It had taken a long time for him to let go of his pride and admit that to himself. After that, it was easy to make the decision.

He’d already told Michael and the rest of the Garrison team: next year would be his last.

It was time for a new champion to take his place.

He’d been putting off breaking the news to Dean. But he was running out of time. Balthazar and Gabriel were set to make the announcement public in the first week of the year. Castiel was tempted to let Dean find out in the papers, but that would only make Dean angrier. It was probably a bad idea.

“Well, then I’ll buy the most expensive thing on the menu,” Castiel attempted to joke.

Dean scoffed out a laugh. He squeezed Castiel’s leg and let his hand rest there, high up. His thumb stroked the inside of Castiel’s thigh.

The motion made all the dread of telling Dean about retiring drain away, at least for the moment. Castiel only focused on the heat of Dean’s touch. He met Dean’s eyes, seeing the suggestive curve of Dean’s lips and the way his eyes darkened.

Castiel became even more impatient to get Dean alone for days.

[vashsmunch]

Atonement

Millions Knives x GN Reader

Synopsis: the two of you have a deep conversation about trying to open up

Warnings: none? sort of emotional

A/N: this isn’t crazy long, i wrote it in a hour for someone’s birthday LMAO

─── · 。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───  

"We really don't have to if you're not comfortable."

Nai heaved a deep sigh, leaning back on his forearms to look at the sky. You were next to him, knees curled up into your chest as you gripped them close; it was a chilly night. Seated on the central tower's ledge in July, you could see the entire city from down below. You glanced over at him, seeing how emotionless his expression was. He wasn't one to let his guard down, much less discuss how he felt to others. He had taught himself long ago that any emotions had to be stripped away to reach his idea of paradise, and it has stuck with him ever since. You knew that, which made this situation even more uncomfortable. 

The idea of vulnerability was a foreign concept to both of you in his defense. You were never taught how to be with someone else, and he placed his trust in others and had it forcibly ripped apart. If anything, the fact that he had asked you to "talk" was an enigma in itself. You weren't even sure what he wanted to discuss. 

"How does one forgive themselves?"

Startled by his sudden speaking, you turned towards him curiously. He was looking at you with expressionless eyes, but if you looked closely, you could see his eyebrows furrowed slightly. It took you a few moments, but then you responded. "It starts with not being afraid to feel," Already, you could see his defenses rising, and you sputtered, trying to save the situation. "That sounds like a tall order, but let me explain." His shoulders relaxed, which made you sigh with relief. 

"Everyone goes through their own struggles, but almost all of the solutions can be boiled down to one fact: if you try to push it all down, you'll never be able to fully cope. To forgive yourself is to heal; you can't expect to do that if you don't acknowledge how it truly affected you. What you went through... it's a lot more traumatic than others. So what I'm saying might not be helpful, but I will say this. This time, you're not alone," His expression hardened at the notion, but you pushed forward, trying your best not to falter in your point. "You don't have to place your complete trust in me, but I just want you to know that some people want to care about you, and I'm one of them. We can learn how to be vulnerable together."

You scooted yourself closer to him, easing the space between you two. With a deep breath, you took his hand and were surprised that he didn't immediately try to pull away. You looked him right in the eyes as you brushed your thumb over his knuckles, trying to make your words sound as sincere as possible. "They really hurt you, Nai. And I'm so sorry. If I could take that burden off your shoulders and save you from that heartbreak, I would do it instantly," His gaze softened as he looked into yours, and you felt a tug at your heart. You'd never seen him so at ease; others saw him as a cold-blooded monster, and sure, killing people isn't a good thing. But that's not all there was to him, and in this moment, you could see that clearer than ever. "I wasn't there then, but I am now. You deserve better than how you were treated back then. For so many years, you've been fighting alone. Let me help you."

Without a second thought, you hugged him as tightly as you could. You poured all of your sentiments and affection into it, trying to tell him silently that he was cherished, that he didn't have to keep wandering this path to try and bring himself peace. He shuddered, and you knew he was crying. To feel like this must've been so foreign to him. Nai spent his entire life fighting against this society that had had no problem mercilessly killing his brethren. And here he was, being so vulnerable and human with a human. It hurt you more than words could ever describe. His hands grazed up your back to cling onto your shirt as he tucked his head into the crook of your neck. A shaky exhale and then complete stillness. There were no words exchanged. At that moment, it was just the two of you under the stars, embracing each other and trying to explore this new feeling of defenselessness. It was a chilly night. But for the first time in a long time, Nai finally felt warm.