#certainly been years since i reached a point where the only thoughts i could muster were ''this is so FUCKING COOL'' and such

[universalthaumaturge]

so. chapter 5 huh.

[amor-immortalem]

Replaced

Genre: Heavy Angst, Angst with a somewhat happy ending.

Warning: The following piece is my take on the replaced! au with Arella. Dark themes lie ahead. If you are triggered by feelings of abandonment, suicidal ideation, or outright suicide, this mini fic is not safe for you to read. Please continue at your own discretion.

A/N: I did it guys! I actually managed to break myself with this mini fic by digging into my own abandonment issues. It was fun- cathartic almost. Please enjoy! Also, spoilers for the lesson 16 incident.

What does it feel like to be replaced? If you were to ask Arella, she’d say it felt bitter and painful. Like someone was holding a white-hot branding iron to her stomach and pushing it in to the point it ate through all the layers of her skin and was now searing through her stomach or like someone was rubbing salt into a open, festering wound.

When Diavolo had announced to the other student council officers that a new exchange student would be joining their ranks, Arella was excited- especially when she found out the new student was a female- there was only so much Arella could talk about in a house full of men and one genderless individual that they would understand, all of them having been assigned male at birth and whatnot. So, another woman among their ranks would be a breath of fresh air for her. And it was for a time being- until the brothers had taken favor to this new human.

It started within months of this new exchange student arriving. One by one, her favorite demons started hanging around her more often. It wasn't like Arella could be mad at them. This human was novel and oh so different from Arella. She was everything Arella was not, from her blonde hair to her well-developed body- even her height, which matched closer to the brothers. She was everything human world media told a girl she should be. She even looked like she fit in with them- having taken to the Devildom like a duck to water even without being able to use magic.

Arella wants to be angry with this girl, but she can’t. This girl, named Melissa, was so sweet it was almost enough to make Arella sick. She was smart, innocent, and -above all else- selfless. It was apparent the boys adored her immediately. One by one, Arella was losing them to the charms of this new girl. The first to go was Satan, clearly smitten by her love of books and knowledge of obscure but very talented authors. The second to go was Asmo, often taking her out to clubs or on long shopping trips that often lasted well past curfew. And just like that the other brothers started to follow suit. Game nights between her and Levi? Gone. Drawing up budgets with Lucifer? Not anymore. Going out with Beel to cafes? Not in her wildest dreams. Naptimes up in the attic with Belphie? Hah! Fat chance. The last and most painful to pull away was Mammon- her first man. The one who swore he would always be there for her when she needed him. And oh how she needed him.

Just like when Arella had first come to the Devildom, Mammon was given the task of watching over Melissa by Lucifer. At first Arella tried to justify it as Lucifer worrying about the girl’s safety as even though his brothers had gotten better at controlling themselves, they still had their moments.

As time went on however, she started to notice the little things. Missed movie nights between them, date nights often forgotten about in favor of showing Melissa his favorite spots around the city, the loss of any physical intimacy. Soon, he stopped seeing her all together. Things that she and Mammon did together were now reserved for Melissa: casino trips, movie nights, pranks on Lucifer that would have the eldest chasing after them, running around the city until it was nearly what could considered to be the Devildom’s equivalent of dawn. She knew he was completely gone when she walked down to the dining room for supper one evening and overheard them just casually flirting. Mammon didn’t even make any attempts to dissuade Melissa’s advances. He remembered he actually had a girlfriend, right? Right?!

Or were they even a thing anymore? It had been months since they’d spent any substantial time together outside of classes and even then, he’d moved seats to sit closer to the new human. He’d either ignore her texts or straight up just ghost her altogether. As she listened to them, she had to push down the possessive tendencies that tried to force their way out of her. She pushed them back down into the flimsily locked box they had always been contained in and burying them down in the deepest parts of her mind, forcing herself to accept that she was no longer wanted- no longer loved by the family she thought she’d found. She returned to her room for the rest of the night and for the first time since the initial weeks after arriving here on her first visit, cried herself to sleep.

The next time she interacted with any of the Avatars, it was Lucifer ordering her off to school telling her that she had better not be late and tarnish the good name Lord Diavolo and the exchange programme. Arella only nodded and promptly left the house, not even bothering to finish her morning cup of tea. The walk to school was lonely, Mammon had left earlier with Melissa and it was then, with a broken heart, Arella decided she would leave them all to their new toy. They wouldn’t bother her. They didn’t need her. At least she had Solomon and the angels, didn’t she? No, it didn’t seem to be the case either judging by the mass of unanswered texts.

As she entered class, Arella took her usual seat only hoping Mammon would choose to sit with her for once, would just choose her for once in general. But it wasn’t meant to be. Of course, it wouldn’t. Why would he bother to choose her when there was someone who was much better for him than her? Someone who wasn’t selfish or possessive or... or... worthless... She subtilty looked over her shoulder to watch as they cracked jokes and laughed together and she felt tears pool in her eyes- heart aching at the thought that she would never have that again and the sweet memories she’d made with the demon. The spot she once saved for him was now taken by another demon.

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Two months more of this- it had been eleven since Melissa joined them. None of the brothers even looked Arella’s way anymore- often forgetting she lived in the house with them in the first place. When she tried to reach out to any of them it was Melissa needs this or Melissa and I are doing this, so she just stopped. She stopped eating, stopped taking care of herself save for basic hygiene needs. No one came to check on her. There were no texts, no calls, nothing. They’d gotten all they wanted out of her and now she was like a cast aside doll. She thought about reaching out to any of them but decided against it. They were demons and she was just an insignificant human. It's not like they actually cared and Arella was a fool for allowing herself to entertain the thought.

She should just go home. But where was home? The human world held nothing for her to return to. Sure, she had that degree in biochemical engineering to fall back on but after having a taste of true happiness, would she even enjoy a life doing that? Maybe she could just go back to her original plan. The plan she had made when she first signed on to the exchange programme. 23 years was certainly long enough to experience everything life had to offer, right? She always did tell herself if the year on the exchange programme didn’t work out, she’d end it all. The idea was sounding more and more appealing by the minute.

With her mind made up, Arella swung her legs over the side of the bed. A smile was painted on her face. Her cheeks stained with tears; emerald-green eyes bleary from all the crying she’d done over the past two months. No one would miss her. They left her- abandoned for the better human like she was an unwanted pet. What did she expect though? No one ever stayed. No one ever cared. No one ever loved her enough to begin with. She was always thrown away like the trash she was after her purpose was fulfilled.

With what little strength she could muster, Arella stood as she uttered a spell and a portal opened. She gladly stepped through it, finding herself in her childhood home as it closed- a place filled with nothing but suffering and pain for her. What a fitting place for her own painful end.

“Hello, Mum, Myles... I’m... home... Isn’t it lovely... that you were right after all? I’ll be with you... soon...”

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Missing his call on her D.D.D. was the first thing that Mammon noticed. He knew he hadn’t been the best boyfriend ever since the new human arrived and the demon felt guilty for that. He’d put so much energy into helping Melissa get a date with his younger brother that he hadn’t realized how much time had actually passed- how it had been almost a year since he’d done literally anything with his girlfriend. She was probably pissed at him and rightfully so. Now that he had actually looked at his calendar, there had been so many planned dates and movie nights he had missed with her and all he wanted to do was make it up to her somehow. She probably thought he didn’t want her anymore which couldn’t have been further from the truth. He missed her- missed hanging out with her, missed the dumb jokes they would crack and the laughter that followed, missed the pranks they would play on Lucifer that often ended up with them strung up from the ceiling together. He missed the late-night cuddles and having her tucked up under his arm at night as he held her close. The bed they had once shared was considerably colder now that she was no longer there.

Mammon made his way down to her room. That was the only place she could be. Arella never left her room anymore. She always left for school earlier than anyone else too, choosing to skip breakfast outright, so Mammon couldn’t even catch her to talk then. He thought about reclaiming his seat next to his human but every morning he found her chatting up another demon that had taken his old seat. He often felt his possessiveness spike most during those times but did he even have the right to feel that way after neglecting her for the past eleven months?

As he drew closer to her room, he could see Beel knocking at her door, asking if she’d like to go visit that new café she had mentioned a couple weeks ago. When there was no answer, the Avatar of Gluttony would frown, unsure if she was just asleep or just actively ignoring him. That was the second sign something was wrong. No matter what happened, at the end of the day, Arella was always happy to entertain their whims.

“She’s not answerin’ ya, is she?” The second-born asks as the sixth-born shakes his head, looking like an abandoned puppy on the side of the road. “I’ll go in ‘n see if she’s awake. I have to talk to ‘er anyway.”

Beelzebub nodded as he left back to the kitchen- likely to eat his hurt feelings away. None of them really had the right to feel this way after they’d just ghosted their favorite human though. As he opened the door, Mammon stopped dead in his tracks. She wasn’t there, her phone lay on the bed lit up with missed texts from Asmo and Levi.

Immediately, he took off for Lucifer’s study. If anyone would know her whereabouts it would be Lucifer, right? The family patriarch had the uncanny ability to know exactly where every resident of the House of Lamentation was at any given time so long as they were still in the Devildom.

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After considering her options, Arella was left indecisive. There were a number of ways she could end her own life. She wouldn’t lie, before the exchange programme she would fantasize about the many ways she could kill herself. Would it be by hanging like she found Myles? Or perhaps she could slit her wrists like her beloved mother. If the car in the garage still worked, carbon monoxide poisoning was a valid option too. There were sleeping pills up in the medicine cabinet- a large handful of those would definitely do the trick... Ah choices, choices. As she smiled to herself, the human wondered if any of the brothers had noticed she wasn’t in the house anymore. The chances were unlikely as they were all too busy with their new human but if they had, who was it?

Would it be Asmo, Levi, Belphegor? Surely, it wouldn’t have been Mammon. He’d long since moved on, probably enjoying the start of a new relationship with Melissa. It hurt that he couldn’t have been bothered to even break up with Arella in the first place. What happened to forever? Had it all been the honeyed words of a liar?

She shook her head. It was best not to think too much on it but she still couldn’t help it. Once she was gone- once their pact faded away- would he regret this? Would he regret losing the person who loved him so unconditionally that it was almost embarrassing?

With her mind made up, Arella grabbed a knife from one of the drawers in the kitchen and carried herself up to the master bedroom where she had found her mother four years prior. As she lie on the bed, she pressed the knife to her wrist deep enough to cause substantial bleeding. She drags the blade up her arm, watching as the crimson liquid gushed from the from the wound. She thinks it’s beautiful- a fitting end for a vile creature such as herself.

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“Lucifer!”

“What, Mammon?” The eldest didn’t even bother to look up from the ever-growing stack of paperwork on his desk.

“Did Arella have plans tonight?” The Avatar of Greed asks as his brother finally looks up at him.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I also haven’t seen her all day. As her mate, you should know, shouldn’t you? As far as I’m aware, Arella hasn’t left the house and is still in her room probably practicing her mag-”

In that moment, both demons felt a sharp pain shoot up their arm as if someone had taken a knife and was drawing a line up the inside of their arm. The same pain was radiating from the places where their pact marks were located. Mammon clutched at his chest as he fell to his knees, the symbol representing his girlfriend radiating with pain that reached down to his heart. If the screams of the others were anything to go by, they felt the same thing.

“She’s not in her room!” The white-hair demon manages to gasp out. What scares him most is that he can feel their pact fading away.

Lucifer’s heart leapt up in his throat as the realization hit him. It wasn’t her practicing magic that he had sensed earlier, it was her casting a spell. She opened a portal to the human world and had gone through. He now realizes the mistake they’ve made as he remembers back to the confession she had made to him over a year ago one night when neither of them could sleep and opted for a late-night cup of tea. She had told him that he and his brothers had saved her life that first year during the exchange programme. That if things hadn’t worked out so well, she had planned to take her own life. Back then, he thought nothing much of it since the problem had resolved itself. But with how they had essentially pushed her aside in favor of Melissa, she would have felt unwanted bringing the suicidal thoughts back full force. They had to get to her and fast before it was too late.

Always fast on his feet the eldest, opens a portal of his own, knowing of only one place she would go to take her own life. Both brothers would hop through, landing in the dusty house with a thud. The smell hit them faster than either of them could process it. Blood. And a lot of it at that.

Mammon was the first to scramble for the stairs while Lucifer made a break for the phone, having forgotten his D.D.D. on his desk in the rush to get through the portal. The second-born knows the layout of Arella's house too well, having been here with her multiple times before this. Back in better times when she knew just how much he loved her. As the smell of fresh blood grows stronger, he finds her resting on the bed, a smile on her face as the knife lay between her body and the arm that was still slowly losing blood.

Faster than a flash of lightning, the demon tore his belt off and was on the bed immediately. He took her arm, fastening his belt around the upper part in a tourniquet to stop the blood flow. He shook her frantically, tears spilling down his face freely.

“Arella! Arella! C'mon, baby, wake up! Please!” His voice came out in a scream and he could only vaguely hear his brother speaking on the phone with emergency services. “We’re sorry! Don’t leave us! Don’t leave me!”

With every passing second, Mammon could feel her life slipping away through the pact that was still searing his heart. This was the price of his actions- of all their actions. Her blood was on his hands, literally. He should have done more. He should have been there. He could have called or texted or even just picked up the damn phone when she had called him, but instead just like the blood that had slipped from her arm, the Avatar of Greed let her slip through his fingers. She was gone and there was no bringing his human back this time like they had when Belphie threw her body down the stairs after he’d strangle her to death. He and his brothers had spent all that time protecting her from other demons but they couldn’t protect her from themselves.

Once the EMT’s got there, the demon stepped back from the blood-soaked bed in a state of shock- a state of disbelief. There was nothing they could do for her now. She had no pulse, no signs of life. He dropped to his knees unable to believe that his human was truly gone. His throat felt tight as more tears came. He was only just able to register the feeling of the Avatar of Pride’s embrace as they cried together- something they hadn’t done since the fall, since Lilith passed.

The two demons were informed that the coroner would arrive to collect her body shortly as they left the room. Slowly they got up, Mammon taking her body in his arms as he fought back the urge to sob. The pair returned to the House of Lamentation with Arella’s body in tow, cradled carefully in her mate’s arms. As they stepped through, they were met by their brothers and Melissa. Even the Angels, Solomon, and the Royals were there waiting.

“She’s gone,” The eldest’s voice cracked as a pained grimace formed on his face, more tears slipping down his face. Mammon couldn’t even lift his head to look them in the eyes as the crying, wailing, sobbing started.

“We didn’t deserve ‘er.” The second-born chokes on his tears, feeling utterly broken inside. “We did this to ‘er. All... All seven of us did this... She reached out to alla us ‘n we ignored ‘er.” He’s the angriest with himself.

The prince and his butler only watch on, tears in their eyes. Diavolo remembers all the good times they’ve had with Arella. The way she made the lives of the Avatars better, the fun she brought to the student council meetings, the beautiful light she’d brought to the Devildom. She’d made such an impact on the lives of all of these demons and angels. As selfish as it was, Diavolo didn’t want to let any of that go.

“Bring her back, Barbatos.” He orders and his loyal servant steps forward.

“Place her on the ground, Mammon.” Barbatos says calmly, almost as if he’s done this a thousand times and for some reason the Avatar of Greed obeys the order.

Once she’s on the ground, the green-haired demon pulls open her mouth and takes Mammon’s hand in his, producing a dagger and slicing the white-haired demon’s palm tipping it to side and allows the blood to drop into Arella’s mouth. As the crimson liquid flows down her throat, the effect is immediate- Arella's body convulsing violently before she gasps for breath as the gash along the inside of her arm heals.

Everyone- demons, angels, and humans alike- stare wide-eyed at the scene. Lucifer looks up to his longtime friend in disbelief. He had just...

“Let this teach you all a very painful lesson. I’ve given her life as a demon, do not take this chance for granted. You will not get it again. She needs rest for now, but in a day or two, Arella will reawaken.” The prince’s voice is stern as he peers down at the former human who would now become a very powerful demon. “Treat her right this time.”

It’s with that that Diavolo and Barbatos take their leave. The rest was up to the brothers now to care for her and right the wrongs they’ve made.

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Next

The Bad Ending

Find more on my masterlist

[junghelioseok]

clandestine. | 06

↳ forbidden fruit tastes the sweetest.

◇ jungkook x reader ◇ smut | fluff | brother’s best friend!au ◇ 7.4k [6/6]

notes: we’ve reached the end at last!!! thanks for sticking around through all the sporadic updates, and i hope you enjoy this final chapter!

warnings: some soft, soft smut.

⇢ 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 

The day before your scheduled return to Seoul, your parents decide to throw a joint party with the Jeons. From your bedroom window, you can see the plastic tables and chairs scattered across your adjoining lawns, the tarps and poles that will soon become makeshift pavilions lying in the grass. Though a row of low bushes divides your property, a small stone footpath weaves between the green leaves. You watch Mr. Jeon make his way into your yard, joining your father to unfurl a sign that’s emblazoned with Bon Voyage, {Name}! in bright blue print.

“Noona!” Jimin bursts into your bedroom with zero preamble, the door slamming into the wall behind it. You jump at the sudden intrusion, and flinch when he bounds across the room in two steps and grabs you by the shoulders.

“Ow, Chim,” you grumble, trying and failing to push him away. “Knock much?”

“Help,” he whines, trying to pull you to your feet. “I put too much salt in the marinade, and I just spilled Coke all over the counter. Please come help me.”

You sigh as he casts you the most pathetic look he’s capable of mustering, complete with a quivering bottom lip. Wiggling out of his iron grip at last, you grab him by the wrist and drag him out of your room. “Fine,” you tell him as you pull him downstairs. “You’re lucky I like you sometimes.”

“Love you too!” Jimin singsongs. He swoops in to plant a too-wet kiss on your cheek, and when you squirm in disgust he just giggles and blows you another.

The kitchen, upon your arrival, is empty. “Where’s Mom?” you ask as you grab a rag, tossing it over to your brother so he can clean up the spilled soda.

“She left a few minutes ago,” he replies, sopping up the mess and flinching when some splashes down from the counter onto the linoleum floor. “I think she went to the store to pick up a few things.”

“Food things?” you ask dubiously, eyeing the sizable pile of vegetables and meat on the counter. “Is this not enough? Is the entire neighborhood invited to this thing?”

“You know Mom,” he replies, shrugging. “Just let her have this. She misses having another girl in the house when you’re away. Says Dad and I gang up on her.”

You chuckle. “That sounds about right. On the bright side, though, she only has to deal with you for a few more months.”

“Jeez, that’s weird to think about.” Jimin sidles up behind you and settles his chin on your shoulder. “We’re going to be at the same university soon.”

“Yeah, because you’re a little copycat,” you tease, reaching back to flick him on the forehead. “What’s next? Are you going to start following me around the sandbox again? Come crying to me when someone’s mean to you?”

“Yeah, right.” Jimin steps back and puffs his chest out dramatically. “I’m going to protect you from all those weird college guys, remember? Who else is gonna do it if not me?”

In an instant, your mind goes to Jungkook. Your throat goes dry, and thankfully the jingle of keys in the front door saves you from needing to respond. Jimin’s attention is diverted when your mother steps through with an armful of shopping bags, and you take a moment to shove away all thoughts of your neighbor before following after your brother to help her unpack.

You haven’t seen much of Jungkook since your impromptu sleepover in his room. As your time at home winds to a close, your parents have been increasingly adamant to spend as much time together as possible. Family game nights became routine, and although Jungkook has joined you on a couple occasions, Jimin has seemingly made it his personal goal to ensure that you don’t spend a single second alone with your dark-haired neighbor. Certainly, you’ve texted a bit, but Jungkook’s been picking up more shifts at the restaurant lately and you often see him through your bedroom window returning home after a long dinner shift.

Jimin’s voice draws you out of your thoughts. “Huh?” you ask, blinking, and your brother shoots you an unimpressed look.

“I said, I’m going out back to help Dad with the grill,” he repeats. “Can you bring the cooler out?”

“Oh!” You glance over at the cooler on the ground, filled to the brim with beer and soda. Jimin has a bag of ice in his arms, and you quickly follow him out into the backyard, wheeling the cooler behind you. Together, the two of you push it into an unobtrusive corner of the back porch, and Jimin curses when he upends the bag of ice into it and spills nearly a third in the process.

“Smooth,” you remark.

“Like you could do any better,” is his reply.

It’s just after one o’clock, the sun beaming bright in the cloudless blue sky, when people begin trickling into the backyard where your father and Mr. Jeon have started grilling. You spot Taemin and Minho from where you’re perched on the porch steps, and grin when they wave and begin heading in your direction.

“Heading back to the big city so soon?” Minho asks as he comes to a stop, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “We’re gonna miss you around here.”

“You know you’re always welcome to visit,” you tell him with a smile. “Besides, I’ll be back. I do like to see my family every now and then, you know.”

“When exactly are you leaving tomorrow? Taemin asks curiously.

“Bright and early in the morning,” you reply. “I want to have plenty of time to get settled before I start interning on Monday.”

Minho gives you a squeeze. “You’ll kill it. I know you will.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. You’re about to say more—ask about the rest of their summer plans, maybe—when you spot a familiar dark head of hair exiting the back door of the Jeons’ house. Jungkook is wearing a collared shirt the color of sunshine, the sleeves rolled to his elbows to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. His faded jeans have a rip in the left knee, and you swallow when your gaze automatically trails down to the defined muscle of his thigh, a peek of skin visible through the denim.

Across the yard, your eyes meet. He raises a hand in greeting, his watch glinting in the sun, and you wave back. Everything else seems to fade into the background—Taemin and Minho, the hubbub of the partygoers, even the sizzle of the grill. Jungkook is walking in your direction now, and your throat goes oddly dry at the thought of talking to him face-to-face after nearly a week of intermittent texts and occasional glimpses. Your fingers itch to run through the soft hair at the nape of his neck, and your body craves the feeling of his skin against your own. You’d even settle for a simple kiss—the press of his mouth and the slick of his tongue, his palms settling on your hips or looping around to the small of your back to pull you in close.

Needless to say, it’s been far too long since you and Jungkook last slept together. You wonder, vaguely, if there’s any way the two of you might be able to sneak away from the party and head somewhere a little quieter. One last handsy makeout session in his backseat, and one last chance for him to breach your walls with his cock. One last fix of the drug called Jungkook, before you return to your life in Seoul and try to forget the boundaries you’ve crossed in the last few weeks.

Because at the end of the day, Jungkook is your brother’s best friend, and therefore is off-limits. And as if Jimin himself is listening in on your thoughts, your little brother comes bounding out of nowhere, intercepting Jungkook on his path to you and dragging him away to help make more meat skewers for the grill.

The party continues. More people arrive, and you do your best to converse with everyone between bites of food. Many family friends have come out to wish you well, most of whom you haven’t seen in several years, so you put on your best smile and weather the innumerable comments about how much you’ve grown up since you last met. Off in the distance, you spot Jungkook chatting with Junghyun, who has driven in from downtown Busan. The elder Jeon brother has already wished you good luck with your internship, pulling you into a friendly hug when he first arrived, and you would’ve had to be blind to miss Jungkook’s penetrating stare as you hugged him back.

You’re returning from a bathroom break, easing the back door shut, when you are assailed by a tangle of limbs and excited cries. You end up with a faceful of strawberry blonde hair, and laughingly groan as you extricate yourself from the hug, offering a beaming Chaeyoung, Jisoo, and Lisa a grin. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Lisa grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a little shake. “You’re leaving tomorrow! When will you be back again?”

“Winter, definitely,” you promise. “Maybe the summer too, if I don’t have anything else going on.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Jungkook again. He’s looking in your direction, his gaze flitting between the half-eaten burger in his hand and where you’re standing on the back porch with the girls, as if he doesn’t want to get caught staring. The party has been underway for nearly two hours now, and you haven’t even come close to having a conversation with your dark-haired neighbor. It seems as though anytime Jungkook comes within speaking distance, he’s interrupted by friends, family, and at one point, even his family’s dog. Gureum has been a part of Jungkook’s family for as long as you can remember, and though he’s getting rather old, he’s still happily meandering around the yard today. You’ve already given in to his pleading face twice and offered him a bit of food from your plate, and you’ve watched plenty of others do the same. A quick scan of the yard reveals that the little white dog is now fast asleep in a sunny patch of grass, and you chuckle to yourself before your gaze finds Jungkook again. Your eyes meet, just for a second.

“{Name}, honey, can you come here for a second?”

You turn at the sound of your mother’s voice. “Sure,” you tell her, excusing yourself from the group of girls to follow her inside to the kitchen. “What is it?”

Your mom hands you a pile of small paper plates and plastic cutlery. “I’m bringing out the cake,” she says. “Can you put those out for me?”

You nod, watching as she picks up the cake. It’s an impressive two-tiered confection, frosted pale purple and decorated with pink cherry blossoms and the words Bon Voyage! in flowing white script. You make sure to hold the door open for your mother as she exits the house on your heels, and duck your head in embarrassment when a few of your neighbors start clapping at your arrival.

The cake is cut and distributed, and you take your piece over to a shady spot beneath the awning of one of the pavilions your father has assembled. Jimin joins you, wiping a frosting-covered finger on your nose, and you squeal and wipe at it furiously with a napkin before taking revenge. Slowly, the afternoon progresses into early evening, and the party begins to wind to a close. Friends and neighbors begin to trickle out, wishing you well before taking their leave. At the far end of the yard, you see Jungkook talking to Chaeyoung, and wonder what the two could possibly have to say to each other before Taemin and Minho draw your attention away.

“We gotta head out,” Minho says, coming to a stop before you and pulling you into a hug.

Taemin nods, tugging you into an embrace as well. “We’ll see you again soon though, yeah? We’re definitely going to come up to visit you guys at some point.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you tell him. “You’re crashing at Jimin and Jungkook’s though. I’m not taking you in.”

“Cruel, but fair,” Minho says with a laugh. “See ya then, Noona.”

“See you.”

The two depart, and you begin gathering up your used utensils and plates, seeking about for a trash can. You smile at your dad as he walks by, and scratch a sleepy Gureum behind the ears as you pass him. Just as you’ve finally found a trash can and dropped your garbage inside, however, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Hey, Noona.”

Your heartbeat quickens. Slowly, you turn around, coming face to face with none other than Jungkook himself. His dark hair is ruffled by the breeze, and his silver hoop earrings glint in the late afternoon sun. Tentatively, you offer him a small smile, and he hesitates for a moment before smiling back.

“Hey.”

“You said that already,” you point out, trying to quell the sudden nervousness in your belly and swallowing down whatever moisture is left in your mouth. “Fun party, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nods. “Really fun. And the food was great.”

You chuckle. “Yeah. We have our dads to thank for that.”

“Definitely.”

A beat of silence passes, and then two. Jungkook is scuffing his heel against the grass, one hand darting up to scratch his ear, and you are just beginning to wonder at his uncharacteristic awkwardness when he suddenly pulls a bag from behind his back.

“Here,” he says, practically shoving it into your hands. “I—I mean, we—got you a gift. From my family. And me.”

Blinking, you peer down at the green tissue paper peeking out of the top of the bag. “Oh, wow. You… you guys really shouldn’t have.”

“It was my mom’s idea,” Jungkook mumbles, looking anywhere but at you. “You can open it now if you want, though.”

You do. Peeling back the tissue paper reveals two items inside—one of which is a lovely leather-bound planner, complete with a calendar and to-do lists and pages for notes. The other is a small canvas, and your mouth falls open when you see what’s painted across the surface.

It’s the lake house. Behind it, you can see lush green hills and trees, all bordering the rippling expanse of blue water. Jungkook has captured the scene at high noon when the sun is at its peak in the sky, glinting off the lake like diamonds. Off to one side, you spot the canoe roped to the dock.

“Wow,” you breathe, awestruck. “Jungkook, this is beautiful. I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s no big deal,” he says, shrugging and scratching the back of his neck. “I had to rush it a little, between work and all. It could’ve been better.”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him, running a fingertip across the canvas. You’ve always known that Jungkook has a talent for drawing, but you’ve never seen him use paint as his medium of choice until now. “Really. I love it, Jungkook. I’m going to hang it up in my dorm as soon as I get back.”

“Back,” Jungkook echoes. “Right.”

And before you can reply—before you can even inhale to speak—he’s pulled you into a tight embrace, his arms looping around your waist and settling there.

“Good luck with everything,” he says once he’s pulled back. And then he’s turning on his heel and walking away, and you’re left to wonder whether these past few weeks were simply a passing tryst after all.

///

As it turns out, your internship is more than enough to keep your mind from straying toward a certain dark-haired young man. Two months after Jungkook left you high and dry, you’re working harder than you ever have in your life. Your mornings are early and your afternoons run into evenings more often than not. “At least you’re getting paid, though,” Namjoon points out, glancing up from where he’s sitting on the couch when you stumble into your shared dorm one particularly late night. “You could’ve been one of the unlucky bastards who got stuck doing unpaid labor at their internships.”

“Oh, good. At least they’re working me to the bone ethically,” you snort, accepting the wine he hands over. Trust Namjoon to have an extra glass at the ready. Your suitemate, despite his flaws, always seems to know when you need a pick-me-up, and you suppose you can forgive his clumsiness and messiness for that. If he keeps it up, you may even start looking past the heart attacks he causes you every time he enters the kitchen and so much as looks at a knife.

Namjoon chuckles and tops off his own wineglass. “So now what? You hungry?”

“Starving,” you admit. “What are you thinking tonight? Pizza? Chinese?”

“Thai? I’ve been craving it lately.”

“I can do Thai.” You lean in closer as he pulls up the delivery menu on his laptop, pointing to what you want before sitting back and letting him place the order. “Can you get me an iced tea, too?

“Two iced teas, coming right up,” he replies. “You wanna start thinking about tonight’s feature presentation?”

Flopping onto your side, you reach into the bag you dropped on the floor and fish out your own laptop. You select a film from Netflix as Namjoon fetches his wallet to pay for your food, and the two of you settle in to wait as the opening credits of Disney’s Hercules roll.

“I’m not a good singer,” Namjoon cautions as the Muses begin their introductory monologue. “I just want you to know that beforehand. But out of all the Disney films? This soundtrack is unmatched.”

“Damn right,” you reply, clinking your glass against his. “Best soundtrack ever. We’ll both sound like dying cats, and I for one can’t wait.”

Namjoon laughs and leans over to flick off the lights. The room goes dark and the music begins, and you’re both singing along before you even hit the chorus. Spending time with Namjoon is comfortable, and though you’ve already lived together through the entirety of your first year of school, these past two summer months have strengthened your friendship tenfold. He’s almost like a brother by this point, and you wonder, vaguely, whether Jimin would get along with him anywhere near as well as you do.

As if summoned, your phone goes off. Jimin’s name lights up your screen, and you frown curiously at it before unlocking the device and swiping open the message.

[7:56pm] Chimchim: miss me yet? 😚

[7:56pm] You: no way, weirdo

[7:57pm] You: what do you even want anyway? sure you’re not the one missing me?

Immediately, your phone buzzes with a response.

[7:57pm] Chimchim: seriously? offensive

[7:57pm} Chimchim: orientation’s in less than a week or have u forgotten already?? good thing i’m reminding u

Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you realize that you had, in fact, forgotten. You remember your own college orientation vividly—a jam-packed weekend filled with building tours and ample opportunities to talk to current students. Several of your friends, you’d first met that weekend as you all tried to navigate a new chapter of your lives—Namjoon included. It’s how the two of you ended up living together—jammed into a suite with two others who thankfully meshed perfectly with the both of you. Neither Hoseok nor Jennie are here for the summer, but you’ve kept in touch while apart. Both of them poke relentless fun at Namjoon for opting to take summer classes, and you never hesitate to join in on the lighthearted teasing.

[7:58pm] You: oh yeah lol

Your response is casual and calm, but your heart rate is anything but. Jimin coming to orientation means Jungkook is coming too, and the thought of seeing him sends an anxious flurry of butterflies aflight in your stomach. You remember texting him the day after you came back—just a simple photo of his painting, hung proudly on the wall above your desk. He responded with a string of thumbs-up emojis, and that had been that. You’ve barely heard a word from him since, and Jimin’s occasional texts and social media posts are the only reason you know he’s still alive. Hesitantly, you type out another message, thumb hovering briefly over the send button before hitting it.

[7:58pm] You: you and jungkook are driving up, right?

[7:59pm] Chimchim: yep! road trip

[7:59pm] Chimchim: still not convinced jk’s car will make it all the way tho lmao

You think back to Jungkook’s beat-up sedan with its sputtering engine and scratchy seats, and the ominous way the passenger side window sometimes rattled if you slammed the door too hard. Can’t blame you for having doubts, you write back, earning yourself a hearty LMAOOO in response. And then:

[8:01pm] Chimchim: i’ll probably have to do most of the driving anyway

You frown, brows furrowing. Why’s that?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just a hunch. jk’s been weird lately

[8:02pm] You: …weird how?

[8:02pm] Chimchim: just weird. a little distracted, maybe? he doesn’t answer me when i ask him whats wrong

[8:03pm] You: how long has he been weird?

[8:03pm} Chimchim: idk 🤷‍♂️

[8:03pm] Chimchim: 2 days, maybe 3? i think he might be worried about orientation or college or something. either way i don’t trust him to operate a motor vehicle rn

Your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth as you consider your brother’s revelation. It’s perfectly natural to be nervous about something new, but you still can’t help but wonder if Jungkook’s strange behavior might have anything to do with seeing you again. But before you can dwell on it more, your phone buzzes again in your palm.

[8:04pm] Chimchim: i mean srsly he didn’t even hit on mina when we ran into her at jin’s the other day. do u remember her? the girl from the bbq place we went to for grad dinner??

[8:04pm] Chimchim: but on the bright side, it looks like he and chae made up. about time, tbh. things were really awkward for a while

[8:05pm] Chimchim: wait u knew about them, right? they dated for a while?

You take a deep breath before responding, the gears of your brain whirring as you fight to process all of the information he’s dumped on you. Yeah, you write back. Chae told me. They’re okay now?

[8:06pm] Chimchim: yeah. i think they talked at your going away thing

The memory of them chatting in your parents’ backyard resurfaces, and a rush of relief follows it. Even though your conversation with Chaeyoung at the mall confirmed that she was no longer angry with Jungkook, the guilt of sneaking around with him continued to linger in the back of your mind. You’re definitely going to buy her a box of cookies from Kim’s Kitchen as an apology the next time you see her. Maybe even two.

After a few more texts, your conversation with Jimin peters out. He signs off, citing a house party he has to start getting ready for, and you settle back in to watch the rest of the movie with Namjoon, smiling reassuringly when he shoots you a curious look and mouths, everything okay?

Everything is okay, you decide. Jungkook’s weird behavior isn’t your problem, and there’s not a whole lot you could do even if you wanted to, considering how little you’ve spoken in the last eight weeks. That doesn’t stop you from opening up your messages and scrolling down to Jungkook’s name, though. It doesn’t stop you from opening up the last conversation you had—something about a particularly annoying customer at Jin’s restaurant—and scrutinizing every word.

Later that night, just as you’re brushing your teeth and getting ready for bed, your phone buzzes again. The name attached to the text immediately sends your heart into your throat, and you shakily towel off your hands before swiping it open.

[12:25am] Jungkook: i mis s yuo.

Drunk, the little voice in your brain whispers. He’s drunk. Belatedly, you remember the party Jimin had mentioned, and realize that Jungkook must be there as well. Alcohol has clearly loosened him up, enough to instigate this unexpected sentiment, but you are painfully sober. At a loss, you stare at his message until your screen goes dark. Irritably, you wake it up again, unlocking the phone so you can stare some more, and after what feels like an eternity, you type out a response.

[12: 28am] You: drink some water, jungkook

He doesn’t respond. You wait for five minutes, and then ten, but your phone screen remains obstinately dark and devoid of new notifications. Climbing into bed, you check one last time, but there’s still no response from him.

A resigned sigh leaves your lips as you turn off your bedside lamp and plug in your phone to charge. Sinking down into the mattress, you push away all thoughts of Jeon Jungkook as you close your eyes and wait for sleep to come.

///

On Friday night, you once again find yourself working late. Thankfully, Jimin and Jungkook aren’t due to arrive until later in the evening, so you still have plenty of time to change into comfier clothes and eat something before you have to play host.

Or at least, that’s what you thought. When you swing open the front door of your home, however, you’re greeted by two extra pairs of shoes—one of which is a certain individual’s signature black Timberlands, scuffed and worn from years of use. “Joonie?” you call cautiously, toeing off your loafers and skirting around the corner to poke your head into the kitchen. “Are you home?”

No reply. You wander a little further, entering the living room, and that’s where you’re greeted by the sight of your suitemate, his sheepish grin flanked on either side by two very familiar faces.

“Noona!” Jimin is grinning from ear to ear, and immediately skips forward to smoosh your cheeks between his palms. “We got here early!”

You slap his hands away and poke your fingertips into his ribs. “I can see that,” you retort. “What I don’t get is why you didn't bother to tell me.”

Jimin shrugs. “Surprise?”

You sigh and turn instead to Namjoon, who’s watching your exchange with an amused smile. “Thanks for getting them settled in,” you tell him gratefully. “You should’ve called me, though. I would’ve tried to get off work early if I’d known.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Namjoon waves you off. “They got here about half an hour ago, so it wouldn’t have made much difference, anyway.”

“Still, let me thank you,” you insist. “Dinner’s on me tonight, since I have to feed these heathens anyway. Do you want to order something in? Go out?”

“I’m okay either way,” Namjoon says, shrugging, and you turn to Jimin and Jungkook questioningly.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Jimin says. “I think we’re both pretty tired from the drive, so staying in might be nice.”

“Anything’s fine.” Jungkook is staring down at his right hand as if he’s trying to crack a secret code etched in his fingerprints, and when he speaks, his voice is soft. “Whatever you want, Noona.”

You haven’t forgotten about his text from a few days ago, and judging by the way he can’t even look you in the eye, neither has he. It’s strange seeing him here now—wearing ripped jeans and a black t-shirt like he so often does, his feet encapsulated in plain white socks. His hair has grown out since you last saw him, leaving only the barest glimpse of his silver earrings visible beneath the dark, shaggy locks. You can’t help but wonder what it would be like to run your fingers through it, but quickly quash that train of thought before it can progress any further.

The group eventually settles on ordering pizza, which you order and pay for on your phone. Conversation flows easily as Jimin, Jungkook, and Namjoon get to know each other, and when the food arrives, Namjoon pulls out his collection of board games. The remainder of the evening passes in a haze of pizza and game tournaments, and it’s only when midnight has come and gone that you decide to call it a night. Jungkook and Jimin settle into the two empty bedrooms—Jungkook in Hoseok’s and Jimin in Jennie’s—and you bid everyone goodnight before retiring to your own bed.

You don’t miss the way Jungkook’s gaze lingers on your retreating figure, but he doesn’t say anything and neither do you. He’ll be busy with all the orientation events scheduled tomorrow, and you’re planning to spend a good chunk of the day running errands that you don’t have time for on weekdays. The question of why he’d texted you that night remains on your mind, but you don’t want to ask. And you especially don’t want to ask why he’d never responded after that first message. Confrontation has never been your style, and with any luck, you’ll be able to avoid spending extended periods of time with him altogether.

With any luck, this weekend will pass with no further incident, and you’ll be able to spend the remaining few weeks of your summer in peace.

///

It’s just after two o’clock in the afternoon when you return to your dormitory, a grocery bag clutched in each hand and a tote bag draped over one shoulder. You’ve finished up with all your errands for the day, and even managed to get some reading done for one of your upcoming fall classes. Dropping your bags in the kitchen, you stretch your arms overhead lazily before starting to unpack your groceries. Namjoon is holed up in the library working on an essay, and Jimin and Jungkook don’t appear to be around either. A moment of rare quiet is welcome in your normally hectic life, and you take the opportunity to put some music on and change into your comfiest shorts and a tank top.

You’ve just finished popping some popcorn and are settling onto your bed to watch some Netflix when someone clears their throat from your doorway. Startled, you look up, your eyes locking on Jungkook standing there. He’s wearing a loose gray sweatshirt and matching sweatpants, and you swallow when you see the way he’s rolled up the sleeves to expose vascular forearms and the silver watch on his wrist. Jungkook blinks at you silently from behind his dark fringe of hair, and a beat passes before he clears his throat and speaks.

“Hey.”

You straighten up into a seated position, crossing your legs and plopping the bowl of popcorn in your lap. “Hi.”

Jungkook hesitates, then shoves both hands into his pockets. “Can… can we talk?”

“Sure.” You incline your head. “Talk.”

Your curt tone doesn’t go unnoticed by him. Awkwardly, he shuffles his feet for a moment before scratching behind his neck and ruffling his already tousled hair further. “My phone died,” he says, and you blink confusedly at him, twice, before responding.

“What?”

Jungkook winces but presses on nonetheless. “My phone,” he explains. “It died the other night. I was going to charge it before the party, but I forgot to plug it in and then it was too late. I didn’t—” He sighs. “I would’ve texted you back, otherwise.”

Belatedly, you realize he’s talking about his text from a few nights ago and why he never responded. His reasoning is relatively sound, at least, but you still have an unanswered question. “Why?” you ask, your voice soft. “Why did you text me that night? I don’t hear from you for weeks, and then you message me that out of the blue? Why?”

“Fuck, I know.” Jungkook takes two steps into your bedroom, before he seemingly thinks better of it and takes a step back. “I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve texted you more, or earlier, but—” Another sigh, and this time he rakes his hands through his hair and sends his dangling earrings tinkling. “I’m sorry. I really am. I was being a coward, and…”

Jungkook trails off, and you see that his attention has flitted elsewhere. He’s staring at the painting of the lake house, still displayed prominently above your desk, and you see the gears in his head whirring before he speaks again.

“You… you still have that hanging up there?”

You glance at the painting before looking back at him. “Well, yeah. Of course I do. It reminds me of home.”

It reminds you of him, too, but you don’t voice that particular thought aloud. Instead you turn your attention back to your increasingly fidgety companion, leaning back on your hands and regarding him with your head tilted curiously.

“What were you saying about being a coward? What are you afraid of, Jungkook?”

Jungkook rubs his jaw and sucks in a deep breath. “You,” he finally answers, after several beats that feel like several lifetimes. “I’m afraid of losing you. And I feel like I already might have, especially since we left things so weird at the party. I should’ve…” He shakes his head. ”I should’ve said something sooner. I should’ve told you how I really feel, but I was stupid and scared and I just couldn’t find the right time to do it.”

Your breath catches. Your mouth goes dry and your chest feels tight, and when you try to speak, your tongue feels like sandpaper. “I—” you begin, and it’s all you manage to get out. Jungkook is murmuring your name in a voice so gentle that your heart skips two whole beats, and when you look at him again he is much, much closer than before.

“But I guess late is better than never, right?” Jungkook breathes. Stopping at the edge of your bed, he drops to his knees, and you don’t protest when he takes your hands and cups them protectively between his own. “It’s you, {Name}. It’s always been you. I tried to forget about my feelings when you left for Seoul—tried to convince myself that it was just a stupid crush—but nothing I did worked. I couldn’t forget about you. And then you came back, and I just knew.” Gently, he traces a fingertip across your knuckles before looking up and meeting your gaze in earnest. “I’m in love with you, {Name}. I’ve been in love with you for years, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner. And… and I really hope that I haven’t fucked everything up by telling you this now.”

“You—” Your voice sticks in your throat, and you swallow thickly before trying again. “You haven’t. I… I like you, Jungkook. I like you so, so much, and I think I owe you an apology for trying to push you away so much. It’s just that these feelings… they’re so new. And I—well, I don’t know if I love you yet, but I think that I definitely could.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” he replies, his face stretching into a wide, crinkly eyed grin. “As long as you agree to be my girlfriend, and let me have the chance to make you fall for me.” And when you nod, giggling, Jungkook leans in and presses his mouth to yours.

The kiss is soft and sweet, and lasts several moments before a sobering thought enters your head. You break away, frowning, and Jungkook’s brow furrows as he takes in your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

You bite your lip, worrying at the delicate skin. “This… thing. This relationship—what if it doesn’t work? I mean, god, you’re Jimin’s best friend in the entire world. What if we have an argument? What if—what if we break up?”

“We won’t,” Jungkook replies confidently, lacing his fingers with yours before leaning forward to nuzzle his nose against yours affectionately. Instinct has you leaning into him, seeking out proper contact, and you feel his lips curl into a smile as he indulges you with yet another kiss.

“You can’t know that for sure,” you murmur when you break apart, but your voice is readily lost in the huff of laughter that escapes your companion.

“Maybe not for sure,” he says. “But I’ve loved you since I was about eight, and I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”

This time, when your lips meet, there’s a bit more heat behind it. Jungkook curls a hand around your nape to draw you in close, and licks sweetly into your mouth when you part for him. He’s quick to press you down onto your mattress, and you sigh as he trails down your body and takes the straps of your tank top with him. The material falls off your shoulders, leaving just enough room to tug the rest of the shirt down to your waist, and he groans when your bare breasts are freed.

“No bra? Fuck, you’re killing me.”

You arch beneath him, huffing out a breathless little laugh when he seizes the opportunity to envelop a nipple into his mouth. His fingers find the other—squeezing and rubbing and tweaking until you’re quivering in his grasp. “Jungkook,” you breathe, waiting until he lets out a soft hum of acknowledgment. “Jimin—he could come back any minute. Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now.”

Jungkook glances up from where he’s exploring the underside of your breasts, tracing the soft swell of delicate skin with his lips and tongue. “Jimin,” he says, “is at a special session for his major. He won’t be back for hours, so why don’t you relax and let me make you feel good, hmm?”

And, without even waiting for an answer, he drops down to his knees and digs his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts. Your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed, and Jungkook easily tugs the material off them, taking your panties right along with it. Tossing them aside, he doesn’t hesitate to spread your legs and slot himself into the newly created space. His tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and your breath hitches when you glance down the length of your body and see the ravenous glint in his eyes.

There’s no doubt in your mind that you’re wet enough to take his cock right now. You can feel the slick gathering between your legs, and the smirk on Jungkook’s face tells you that he’s noticed it too. Teasingly, he presses an experimental fingertip to your clit, watching in satisfaction as your hips buck off the mattress at the flare of pleasure. Then he’s sliding down, sinking a lone finger into your entrance and curling upward to find the soft spot that he knows will unravel you in a matter of minutes. A gasp escapes you when he finds it, your hips rising again, and he soothes you with a warm palm on your thigh and a sweet kiss to your hipbone.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Jungkook is able to build up your orgasm, but then again, you suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. He’s always been a quick study, and you’ve never been sure whether it’s stubbornness or determination that drives him to excel at his passions. Here and now, with two of his fingers buried inside your cunt and a third teasing its way in, you don’t even care which it is. All that matters is the pressure building in the pit of your belly, and the way Jungkook keeps murmuring your name and encouraging you to cum for me, princess. It’s enough to push you over the edge, your back arching off the bed and your lips parting in a moan as you ride out your high.

“So pretty.” Jungkook circles your clit with his thumb, his fingers still sheathed within your walls. “You always take my fingers so well.”

“Think I’d rather take your cock instead,” you reply breathlessly, sagging back against the mattress and reaching for him. Jungkook takes the hint, gritting out a hoarse curse before crawling up your mostly bare body and crushing his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. You grab the hem of his gray sweatshirt, pulling it up and over his head, and are more than pleased to discover he’s not wearing anything underneath. His sweatpants soon follow, Jungkook impatiently kicking the material off his ankles, and you sigh out his name when he wraps you in his arms, skin against skin.

“I’m not going to last very long,” he warns you, his breath a puff of hot air against the shell of your ear. “Promise I’ll make it up to you later. Just wanna feel you right now.”

“Go on, then,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his jaw. “How do you want me?”

Jungkook groans, no doubt having a furious internal debate with himself, before reaching down and taking his cock in one hand. “Just like this,” he decides, gazing down at the way you’re spread out on your back for him. Deliberately, he settles between your thighs, giving himself a few pumps before positioning himself at your entrance. “Wanna kiss you while I fuck you. Wanna kiss you for the rest of my life.”

He’s pushing forward then, stealing the breath from your lungs along with any thoughts that may have crossed your mind at his last sentiment. Jungkook sinks into you until you’re gasping at the fullness, his hands grabbing at the meat of your hips and pulling you against him with every thrust. He fucks into you with reckless abandon, hoarse praise and gritted curses falling freely from his lips as he uses your body to seek out his own high. Every now and then, his mouth seeks out yours in a sloppy kiss, which you happily indulge as his rhythm falters and becomes increasingly erratic.

Jungkook floods you with his warmth, his arms gathering you up tightly as his cock slowly softens within you. His lips find yours, and this kiss is a simple, tender one—an affectionate press and a crinkly eyed smile that has you automatically smiling back.

“I don’t know why you’re so happy,” you tease, poking him in his slightly sweaty chest. “Jimin’s going to throttle you for this, you know.”

“Worth it,” he replies cheekily. “Anything’s worth it as long as you kiss me better afterward.”

“Gross,” you tell him, laughing. “You’re so lame.”

“But you still like me,” he says with a shrug. Then he grins. “The real question, though, is whether you like me enough to help me move in the fall.”

You hum, hiding your smile. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”

A positively wicked grin spreads across his face and settles there. “Why don’t I give you a preview?”

///

A few weeks later -

Jimin hums softly under his breath as he strolls into his new dorm, a cardboard box cradled in his arms. There’s a growing pile of boxes in the middle of the living area already, and he’s only just found an empty spot to drop the latest when he hears an odd noise coming from the bathroom. A wet, smacking sound, kind of like—

“Jungkook, you dog,” he snorts, throwing the cracked door open. “Get your ass out here and help me unpa—“ He stops in his tracks.

The scene before him doesn’t make sense. Jungkook is standing in front of him with wide eyes and fear in his expression, but that doesn’t make sense. At least it doesn’t until he sees you in the reflection of the mirror over the sink, your clothes disheveled and your lips swollen.

“Wait, we can explain,” Jungkook begins, following the trajectory of Jimin’s gaze and waving his hands in a fluttery panic. “I swear, Jimin, it’s not what you think—“

“That’s my sister,” Jimin says, his voice dangerously calm.

“Yeah, but—”

“You put your hands on my sister,” Jimin continues matter-of-factly, as if Jungkook hadn’t spoken at all. “I’m going to fillet your dick with a dull knife and serve it over rice.”

And before you can catch your breath and open your mouth to stop him, Jimin leaps forward, his fingers aimed directly for Jungkook’s throat.

[somewhatgreatexpectations]

They Can’t Take That Away From Me (Wanda Maximoff/ Reader)

Hello again! It is with great excitement that I present you all with the first part of the “Love Goes” sequel! I’m still trying to come up with a name (suggestions welcome lol). 

A good amount of dialogue from Wandavision is used here since it felt necessary to set the story up. Songs used are “They Can’t Take That Away From Me” by Frank Sinatra (1954) and “Lego House” by Ed Sheeran (2011). Let me know what you think!

Summary: What is life like for Y/n and Wanda in the 1950s? And what shenanigans will they be getting into? 

There was an odd sensation of confusion as Wanda looked around the home. Now that you had gone to work she wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. Even though you had only been gone a moment, she couldn’t help the excitement that built within her at the thought of you walking through the door again. 

Much to Wanda’s relief, she wasn’t left alone with her thoughts long as an unexpected knock on the front door caught her attention. With furrowed brows she made her way over to the front door and opened it. A hesitant smile appeared on her face as a woman holding a plant smiled brightly back at her.

“Hello, dear. I’m Agnes. Your neighbor to the right. My right, not yours.” The woman informed her cheerfully as she made her way into the home before Wanda could even get a word out. “Forgive me for not stopping by sooner to welcome you. My mother-in-law was in town… So, I wasn’t.” 

The sound of laughter floated into Wanda’s ears as she smiled back at Agnes who offered her the plant which she graciously accepted. Agnes began speaking again before Wanda got the chance. “So, what’s your name? Where are you from? And most importantly, how’s your bridge game, hon?” 

The woman wandered further into the home as Wanda closed the door and rushed over to her, the smile of a perfect hostess never falling from her lips. “I’m Wanda.” She replied politely as she offered her a hand.

Agnes took her offered hand and shook it lightly. “Wanda. Charmed.” She looked around. “Golly! You settled in fast. Did you use a moving company?”

With wide eyes, Wanda turned and placed the plant on the table. “I sure did. Those boxes don’t move themselves.” She replied lightly, the polite smile returning to her face as laughter once again floated around her. 

“So, what’s a single gal like you doing rattling around this big house?”

Wanda waved her hand dismissively. That was something she certainly wasn’t. “Oh no, I’m not single.”

Agnes titled her head slightly in surprise. “Oh, I don’t see a ring.”

Glancing down at her finger for a moment, Wanda furrowed her brow before snapping her head back up to meet Agnes’ eyes. The smile never wavering. “I assure you. I’m married. To a woman. A wonderful woman. A writer at that!”

“A woman?” Agnes asked excitedly. “How nifty! Where exactly is your special lady?” She questioned as she took a seat on the couch. 

Wanda’s smile changed slightly and become something softer as she thought of you fondly. A change she didn’t even notice herself as she settled into the space next to Agnes. “She’s off at work. Meeting with her editor today.” She said, a proud tinge to her voice.

“Well, that’s exciting!” Agnes exclaimed, “It must be a dream to be married to a writer! Maybe she can teach my Ralph a thing or two on how to romance a woman.”

A bashful smile spread across Wanda’s lips. “I can’t speak for other writers, but mine certainly is a dream.” 

Agnes gestured to the round table in front of them. “So, what’s the occasion today?” 

For a moment Wanda merely stared at Agnes with confusion. Until her eyes fell to the calendar on the table which had a heart drawn in the box for the day’s date. The calendar which she oddly hadn’t noticed until that moment. “Well, it’s a special occasion, of course! Y/n must have left it there for me to find.”

Excitedly, Agnes leaned forward. “Is it someone’s birthday?”

“Not a birthday.” Wanda replied with a shake of her head, she knew that couldn’t be it.

In response, Agnes’ own eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Well, today isn’t a holiday, is it?”

“No, not a holiday…”

“An anniversary then?”

“Y-… Yes!” Wanda agreed quickly as she pointed at Agnes in recognition. “Yes, it’s our anniversary!”

Agnes reached out to take Wanda’s hands with an enthusiastic smile. “Oh, how marvelous! How many years?”

For a moment Wanda hesitated, something told her that answer wasn’t a simple one. “Well… it feels like we’ve always been together.” 

“How romantic! So… what do you have planned?” Agnes questioned.

“How do you mean?”

Agnes chuckled as if Wanda’s reply amused her. “For your special night! A young thing like you doesn’t have to do much, but it’s still fun to set the scene!”

A nervous look came across Wanda’s features as she considered Agnes’ words. Before she could reply, Agnes interrupted again. “Oh! I have the perfect article to help us plan!” She said eagerly as she rushed to the door. “This is gonna be a gas!”

Wanda turned away from the door with a dreamy smile as thoughts of spending a romantic evening with you filled her mind.                                           _______________________ “Y/ln!”

The shout startled you, and the clacking sounds that floated from your typewriter ground to a halt as you jumped up and turned towards the sound of the voice. “Yes, sir?”

“My office. Now.” The curly haired man huffed as he turned on his heel to go back in the direction that he came. 

Your desk mate, who’s name you couldn’t seem to remember, why couldn’t you remember, turned to you with a sympathetic smile as he pat your shoulder. “Tough luck, pal. Looks like boss man isn’t in good mood today.”

A tight, nervous smile was all you could muster as you quickly shuffled all your papers into your arms, grabbing your notebook as you left. With hesitant feet you stepped into the office. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

The curly haired man gestured to the empty seat in front of his desk as he lit a cigar. You sat with a nervous smile. “Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re ready for your dinner with Hart tonight. One of the biggest publishers in town. Sign with Hart, then you’re set for life, kid.”

“Of course, I am.” You replied quickly, even though you had no idea what meeting he was talking about. 

“You better be, kid, or else you’re done. I took a chance on you. Don’t make me regret it.” Through a puff of smoke, he gestured you out of his office which you didn’t hesitate to take.  

Hurriedly you ran over to the phone on your desk, dialing in the only number you knew. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when an answer floated through the receiver on the second ring. “Wanda, darling, I was just calling to see if you were prepared for tonight.”

“Why, of course, dear. I have everything under control.” Came her easy reply.

You breathed a sigh of relief as your shoulders dropped. “So, you know?”

The sound of her light laughter filled your ears, making you smile. “Well, when I saw the calendar I just figured.”

“That’s a relief… I must admit, I am rather nervous.”

After a brief pause, Wanda replied. “Nervous? Whatever for?”

With a quick glance back in the direction of the office, you answered. “Well you know situations like this always make me jittery, darling. It’s a tad nerve wracking.”

“Oh, Y/n. After all this time?”

Nervously you began playing with the cord of the phone, barely even processing her words. “I think there’s a lot depending on this, Wanda. If tonight doesn’t go well, I think this could be the end.” 

Another glance back at the office showed your boss yelling at your desk mate. “Well, it’s just one night. There’s no need to get dramatic.” 

Again, your nerves made it difficult for you to process her words. “With you at the helm, I know everything will go well. Until tonight, my darling. I love you.” 

The smile in her voice was obvious as she responded. “Until tonight. I love you.”

When you placed the phone back on the receiver, you couldn’t help but notice the song playing from the radio, something about a star-spangled man. A thought felt as though it was forming in your mind before the song was abruptly cut out, and a new song drifted out of the radio.

“We may never never meet again, on that bumpy road to love, still I'll always, always keep the memory of…”

                                                ___________________

When you entered your home, you couldn’t help the confusion that appeared at the sight of the clearly romantic atmosphere that was set up. The lights were dimmed, and candles were spread throughout the room.

“Wanda?” You called out hesitantly, placing your briefcase and the papers in your arms off to the side of the entryway. 

The woman in question sauntered in the room with a coy smile on her face. “Hello, darling.” She made her way over to you and draped her arms over your shoulders. “I missed you.” She whispered as she leaned closer.

Any thoughts that had previously occupied your mind vanished as every aspect of the woman before you invaded all your senses with ease. “Wow. Wanda… You look… breath taking.” You breathed out.

With loving arms, you pulled her closer as your fingertips skimmed over the soft and flimsy silk of the dress she had on. Like magnets your lips met in a tender embrace, a soft sigh escaping your lips at the sensation. Wanda pulled you closer fervently as her hands tangled into your hair.

A sharp knock at the front door startled you apart a moment later as your eyes widened with the realization of what you were supposed to be prepping for flooded back. “Hart!” You whisper yelled as you rushed to the mirror to fix your hair.

“Hart?” Wanda questioned in confusion.

“My publisher! I thought you knew?” You quickly turned to her, your confusion matching hers as another impatient knock appeared at the door. “I have to let them in!”

Wanda’s eyes widened. “Y/n, no! My dre-“ Her words were cut short as you had already opened the door, you own eyes widening when you realized what she was saying. 

Without thinking you moved behind the man and covered his eyes with your hands, Wanda following your lead as she covered the eyes of the woman standing next to him. “Y/ln, what’s the meaning of this?” The man exclaimed as you looked over to Wanda with wide eyes.

With a snap of her fingers, the beautiful dress she was wearing seconds before was replaced with a much more modest one. You both removed your hands from the guests and stepped in front of them with sheepish smiles. “Well, you see, sir…” you trailed off as you attempted to think of a reasonable response.

“It’s a tradition Sokovian greeting!” Wanda exclaimed, you nodded enthusiastically, thankful for her save.

You smiled nervously, “Yes! It is a traditional Sokovian greeting of hospitality, sir. My wife is from Sokovia.” Nerves began to bubble in your chest which Wanda noticed as she took your hand to steady you which immediately eliminated any feelings of discomfort. You loved her so much.

The woman chuckled lightly. “How exotic.”

“Mr. Hart, this is my wife, Wanda. Wanda, this is Mr. Hart.” You introduced quickly to steer the conversation back to where it should be. “And this must be Mrs. Hart.” you offered your free hand to the younger woman standing next to Mr. Hart as Wanda dropped the other.

The woman took your hand with an amused smirk as she eyed you. “Are you insane? This is my daughter.” Mr. Hart said gruffly, “My wife is out of town at the moment. My daughter has an eye for quality, so I brought her along.”

“Eleanor Hart. You can call me Ellie.” The woman offered, as you uncomfortably took your hand back from her. There was something familiar about her, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

Wanda walked off to pull a cloth off of one of the lampshades before taking your hand again. “Can I see you in the kitchen for a moment, sweetheart?”

“Excuse us.” You said quickly as Wanda was already dragging you out of the room. You blew out a candle along the way.

When you both reached the safety of the kitchen Wanda spun around to face you, “Who are those people?”

Instead of answering you asked your own question. “What was happening earlier?”

“Well, it’s our anniversary!” 

A look of confusion quickly overtook your features. “Our anniversary of what?”

Wanda threw down the cloth still in her hands and sulked away. “Well if you don’t know I’m not going to tell you!” 

“That man in there is Mr. Hart, my publisher! My editor set up this dinner for us, so we could discuss publishing my book.” You explained as you gestured vaguely to the window in the kitchen.

A look of realization crossed Wanda’s features as the disembodied laughter floated in the air again. “That must have been what the heart on the calendar meant.”

You took Wanda’s hand in your own, an apologetic look in your eyes. “Darling, this was so romantic to do. The candles, the music, that stunning dress…” You trailed off as your eyes glazed over at the thought. Wanda snapped her fingers in front of your face to get you to refocus. “Right. I don’t want to be unappreciative, but right now…”

“Your publisher and his touchy daughter are expecting a home-cooked meal?” She supplied helpfully.

You nodded sheepishly. “Exactly.”

Wanda glanced over at the table in the kitchen. “Any chance they’d settle for a chocolate covered strawberry split three ways?” Once again, the laughter floated through the air as you winced. “I might have a better idea.” Wanda announced as she ushered you out of the kitchen.

When the door to the kitchen swung shut behind you, Wanda rushed out the back door as you made your way over to Mr. Hart and Ellie so you could attempt to entertain them for the time being. It wasn’t long before commotion in the kitchen caught the guest’s attention which you were able to distract them from.

The second time the commotion began it seemed as though there would be no distracting Ellie. 

“Maybe I should see if Wanda needs help while you and my father discuss business. I sense trouble.” Ellie announced as she made her way over to the closed shutters that looked into the kitchen.

Nervously you stood up as the commotion in the kitchen continued. “Ellie, I insist you don’t-“ The woman kept moving forward though and eventually opened the shutters which you could see into as she was opening them. The sight wouldn’t be one that would be easy to explain as practically everything in the kitchen was floating around Wanda. 

Thinking quickly, you sang the first and only song that came to your mind to distract them. “I’m out of touch, I’m out of love, I’ll pick you up when you’re getting down. And-”

As soon as the song began falling from your lips both of the Harts began turning in your direction, only they seemed to be frozen mid turn. 

“-out of all these things I’ve done, I think I love you better now.” You murmured along to the lyrics that were drifting out of the speaker at your feet as you swayed lightly to the slow tempo of the song. Your eyes stayed locked on the woman in your arms.

The arms that were circled around your midsection tightened as Wanda lifted her head from your shoulder to meet your eyes. The look in her eyes was staggering. You had almost forgotten what oxygen was when Wanda was near. You didn’t care though, you’d happily stop breathing if it meant she was by your side. She was a different kind of air. 

Wanda grazed her palm along your cheekbone. You easily leaned into her touch. “You never gave me a choice, you know?” Wanda whispered even though she didn’t need to.

“A choice for what?”

“Loving you. It’s as easy as breathing. You are a part of me. I’ll never be able to love someone else.” The words fell from her lips so easily and you couldn’t help the way your heart beat heavily against your ribcage as though it were trying to get to her.

Closing the short distance, you connected your lips to hers. “Loving you was never a choice. It was a necessity.” You mumbled against her lips.

Wanda pulled back and just stared at you adoringly. “If I could go back, I would love you longer.” Your brows furrowed, you didn’t know why but you knew the response was out of place. “There’s never been anyone but you. Never. Not before, not now, and not in the future.” Wanda whispered fiercely as the compound around you began to fade and you both drifted away as pieces of the living room began to form again…

Suddenly the Harts completed their turn and stared at you in shock. You glanced up at Wanda in confusion, seeing the kitchen appliances still floating around her. You didn’t know what just happened and you hoped she’d be able to offer clarity.

When you met Wanda’s eyes though they were filled with an emotion you couldn’t quite register… except you could. It was pain. Before you could react, she waved a hand and the shutters closed once again. 

“Golly, what tune was that you were just singing there?” Ellie questioned excitedly, “It sure was nice.”

You smiled politely, unsure how to answer the question yourself. “Just something I heard a long time ago.” 

“A writer and a singer? Your wife sure is a lucky gal.” Ellie replied with a wink

The flirtatious comment made you shift uncomfortably where you stood. “The lucky one is definitely me. Wanda is heaven sent. Perfecti-”

“When is dinner going to be ready?” Ellie questioned abruptly, interrupting the day dreamy look in your eyes as you spoke of Wanda. “My head is spinning.” She added as she leaned on you for support.

Mr. Hart marched over to you as you nervously used your hand to fan his daughter. “Do you hear that? My daughters head is spinning. Generally speaking, I don’t like her head to do that.” You winced. Ellie leaned further into you, forcing you to use your arms to support her.

The lecture Mr. Hart was giving you continued. “You know, I’m beginning to think you aren’t worth publishing. I had high hopes for you after speaking to your editor. From what I’ve seen here tonight, you can barely keep it together. Look around there’s all this chaos in your househo-“

“Dinner is served.” Wanda interrupted as she stood by the table with an uneasy smile, her eyes expressing her discontent at Ellie’s position even if she didn’t say it. 

Mr. Hart turned to eye the table as you breathed a sigh of relief. “Breakfast for dinner, how very…”

“European?” Ellie finished with an entertained smile, still leaning on you. 

Thankful for the lighter shift in atmosphere, you quickly moved away from Ellie and rushed over to the table. “Let’s have a toast!”

Everyone gathered around the table. “To my lovely and talented wife.” You stared at Wanda adoringly as you raised your glass.

“To our esteemed guests.” Wanda countered with a smirk as everyone around the table clinked glasses. “Well, please, eat before it gets cold.”

Everyone took a seat around the table. “So, where did you two move from? What brought you here? How long have you been married?” Ellie rapidly spouted off. 

The polite smile on Wanda’s face faltered slightly as she seemed to ponder the questions. You chuckled nervously. “I think what my wife means to say is w-we moved from-” 

“Yes, we moved from…” Wanda interrupted only to pause in thought.

“And we were married…” You stopped as well to think of the answer, why couldn’t you think of the answer. You picked up a fork to keep your hands occupied.

“Yes, yes, we were married…” Wanda looked at you, confusion in her eyes.

 “Well, moved from where? Married when?” Mr. Hart asked impatiently.

Ellie pushed the food around her plate. She seemed amused at the situation. “Patience, Dad. They’re setting up their story. Let them tell it.”

“Our story…” Wanda began again, a nervous chuckle escaped her lips.

Mr. Hart looked between the two of you in annoyance. “Yes, what exactly is your story? I think it’s a perfectly simple question.”

Wanda stared blankly at the table as you felt a pressure begin to build in your temples. You held back a grimace. 

The walls in the room began to feel suffocating and the dress you had on felt constricting. Your breathing became heavier as your continued to desperately search your mind for something, anything. A memory that existed before this morning. The floor around the table began to splinter slightly as the fork in your hand folded in on itself. 

“Honestly, why did you come here? Why?” Mr. Hart slammed his hand on the table causing you both to jump. Your thoughts were racing as you wracked your brain for the answers to his questions but kept coming up blank.

A large crack in the floor appeared by Mr. Hart’s chair as he fell back, stuck on the edge, frozen in fear.

Ellie smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Dad, stop it.” The gap by the table widened as Mr. Hart teetered precariously on the edge, still frozen in shock. “Stop it.” She repeated. 

Wanda’s eyes widened in concern as you vaguely saw wisps float over to the gap but do nothing. The pressure in your head became even stronger as the world around you became more difficult to register.

“Stop it. Stop it.” Ellie kept repeating as she turned her attention to Wanda. Mr. Hart hanging over the gap by his fingers.

“Y/n. Help him.” Wanda said assertively as the racing in your mind came to a halt. You stared at the scene before you in horror. With subtle wave of your fingers, the gap closed as Mr. Hart was once again on flat ground. 

You rushed over to help him. “Let me help you up.”

When he was once again on his feet, Mr. Hart glanced at his watch. “Well, would you look at the time.”

“We better be going.” Ellie added as she stood up.

Wanda looked at them both cautiously, the polite smile making a reappearance, but much more tentative than before. “Are you both alright?”

“We had such a lovely time.” Ellie wandered over to you and shook your hand once again a moment too long, the flirtatious smile returning. 

With an uncomfortable smile, you pulled your hand back and made your way over to Mr. Hart. “You made me proud tonight. First thing Monday morning, I’ll make a call to your editor and let him know we have a deal.”

The final remnants of confusion faded away at his words as you eagerly shook his hand with a broad smile. “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Wanda let them both out as you each leaned against the closest object near you and breathed a sigh of relief. 

After taking a moment to collect, you both wandered over to the couch. You easily wrapped an arm around her. “You know, we are an unusual couple.” Wanda stated.

“Oh, I don’t think that was ever in question.” You replied as the disembodied laughter rang out again. 

Wanda leaned into you, “We don’t have an anniversary… or even wedding rings.”

You rubbed her arm soothingly. “Well, today could be our anniversary.” You offered.

“Of what? Surviving our first dinner party?” She questioned with an amused smile.

You chuckled. “Precisely.” 

“And the wedding rings?” She asked.

“Well, couldn’t you make some for us?” You questioned as you held out a hand, smiling when she mimicked your action. 

With a wave of her finger, beautiful rings appeared on both of your ring fingers. “I do.” You said softly before turning your head to look at her. “Do you?”

“Of course. I do.” Wanda replied tenderly as she intertwined your fingers. The disembodied voices cooed.

“And they lived happily ever after.” 

“And we have a happy ending.” Wanda whispered. A brief flash of something flickered in Wanda’s eyes, but before you could analyze she leaned in and lovingly connected her lips with yours in a sweet kiss. . . . . . . . . As the credits rolled there was a brief moment of silence as everyone stared at the screen. “I told you star-spangled man wouldn’t work. This is the 50s, not the 40s.” Darcy said pointedly.

The sound of a soft thud filled the room from Natasha hitting the back of Steve’s head. “I thought it would be close enough.” Steve grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head.

Fury stared at the screen intensely. “I know that woman, but how did she get there.” He mumbled more to himself than the people in the room. “I think I know someone who we can send in.” He eventually addressed the room.

They all turned to look at him. “Let’s do it. Rogers ideas obviously aren’t working.” Natasha answered as Steve crossed his arms in annoyance.

There it is! Part 1 of the “Love Goes” sequel. This one felt a little constricted by the episode because a lot of it still felt necessary as it introduced the newer characters which is why a lot of dialogue from the first episode was used here. The italicized portion was a memory in case that was a little confusing. Also “Star-Spangled Man” is from the first captain America movie lol. I’m actually kind of excited about this though! As always, let me know your thoughts, they’re always welcome!

P.s. I pictured Emma Watson as Ellie because Emma Watson. :)

[bitemeilovewaffles]

Broken Rules

Rule number one of space travel: never leave a human unattended on the bridge. They will eventually press every single button, no matter how many interstellar wars it might cause.

AO3 Link

“You WHAT?” General Marquixion roared. At the sight of the quivering intern, he lowered his voice by a few decibels.

In other words, barely enough to not deafen anyone a lightyear away.

“You left humans in the control center? Alone?!” He demanded.

“Wha- it's not like they’re hatchlings! Certainly, they’d be fine by themself for a few minutes?” The intern waved their tentacle appendages, conveying distress.

“No, not hatchlings. They’re worse.” He cursed. “We need to initiate the Button Protocol!” The General barked, stalking to an innocuous wall.

The frenzied intern shot numerous glances at their leader before mustering up the courage to ask, “w-what’s button protocol?”

“See this black button here?” The general pointed to a button found all over the ship. It could only be reached by the tallest of the species on the ship. Painted a matte black, it blended in with the ship and made the button not shiny at all. This was on purpose.

“I thought that was for dire emergencies?..”

“It is. Button Protocol is for when humans are left at the command center alone. This is to offset the damage.” He slammed the button.

—-------

20 years ago…

Marquixion was chatting with John the human at the command center when the intercom came on, calling for him.

“I’ll be right back, don’t touch anything, okay?” he waved and trotted off to find the captain. John chuckled and waved back, promising he wouldn’t.

“Ah, good you’re- what? Where’s John, Marquixion? You were with him in the command center, weren’t you?”

“Yes, but you didn’t call for him?.. What’s the matter, Captain Nagrok?”

Nagrok went pale, some of his scales falling out from the stress he suddenly found himself under. Marquixion went to step forward, a question on his tongue that was cut off by blaring alarms ringing through the ship. At least 3 people stumbled into Nagrok’s quarters, each babbling about something or another.

“C-Captain! Something is wrong with the gravity controls, they’re fluctuating like crazy!”

“Captain, something's cut off the oxygen flow, we only have 25 minutes until we run out of air!”

“Captain, we just turned our missiles on a Republic ship! They’ve sent a declaration of war against us!”

At the last one, Captain Nagrok stood up, scales falling off his skin as if he was moulting. “JOHN DID WHAT?”

Marquixion just stood there. Truly, humans were capable of amazing things, and yet their destructive tendencies outmatched every other species he could think of.

—--

They managed to explain the situation by simply stating, “Our human did it.”

At that, the Republic ship backed down and even sent a gift basket for condolences. Apparently, they were on the way to pick up their human, Annya. When they had made an emergency stop at a death planet, she had asked to spend her shore leave there. They had since gotten multiple holo-mails of her adventures through the hazardous terrain, including a picture of her with that planet’s apex predator, the lupus maultera. She was planning on bringing it on board.

“His name is Oscar, short for Oscar the Grouch. Isn’t he cute?” the latest one read.

Captain Nagrok deeply sympathized.

—-------

Emily and Josh sat at the control panel.

“...don’t do it,” she said. “I know you want to, but you can resist pressing the pretty buttons for two seconds more. And then another two seconds. And another. Just wait until the lil’ dude comes back.”

Josh reached out and took her hand that had nearly rested on a blinking red button, returning her hand to her lap.

“Speak for yourself. You’re the one who nearly pressed one.” He said, sitting on his hands again.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” She returned, twisting the rope she and her partner had initially been tied up with.

Goodness knew why the lieutenant was so worried when he saw the two of them alone.

Sure, their hands were hovering over the dashboard, but they were just touching the buttons. They weren’t gonna press any.

Regardless, he had produced a rope from who-knows-where and swiftly bound them to chairs, doubly knotting their hands behind their back for good measure. It was the most complicated knot he knew. He had then scrambled off, whispering something under his breath about a button’s protocol.

What a weird guy.

They had gotten free pretty easily, survival training made the knots like children’s play to them.

Now, they were staring at the control panel with its pretty, blinking lights. The very tantalizing, blinking lights.

All of a sudden, numerous buttons lit up on the dash, some emitting small whirring or clicking noises.

They looked at each other.

And then descended upon the dash like hungry vultures, pressing every blinking button in sight.

—-------

Marquixion shuddered from the memories overtaking him. He shrugged off the bad feelings- he had learned his lessons all those years ago and had planned for it. “We have fake buttons that don’t do anything. They just light up or make noises. The important ones are comparatively dimmed, to make them less appealing to press. Let’s just hurry to the aft and hope they haven’t turned off oxygen flow this time-”

He was cut off by the intern bouncing in the air with every step they took. The General was only spared by his immense height and weight. Sometimes it was nice to be 9 feet tall.

“Well. It seems they found the gravity manipulator slide. We should hurry.”

Marquixion tugged along the intern, as they were now free-floating and bouncing off the hallway’s walls.

Slamming open the door, he was treated to the sigh of the two laughing and pressing every button their short limbs could reach.

Tracking their movements, he was relieved to note they hadn’t messed with any other important bits. He sighed.

Might as well let them get it out of their system for today.

They’d be sentenced to cleaning the ship for breaking the rules. That should get them to shape up.

—-------

The two squealed in joy. “We get to go outside?? Into space??”

“To clean the ship, yes.” General Marquixion was perplexed, though he did not show it. This was the task that broke newbies on this ship. It certainly broke him.

Minutes, possibly hours in the great expanse of space. Nothing to do except stare at the void and do boring, gruelling cleaning work? Most begged off it and didn’t step a foot out of line for months.

Josh, on the other hand, began ticking the pros off on his fingers. “We get to spend hours in space, staring out at the beautiful space dust and all those planets. Just hanging out in space. It’s like going to the swimming pool, but better! And colder.”

“And cleaning this ship is easy. We’re in space, there’s not much dirt to begin with. Not like cleaning ships back home. Besides, cleaning is relaxing, it’s just repetitive motions paired with literally out-of-this-world scenery!” Emily picked up.

“This is probably the best task on the ship!” The two high-fived.

Marquixion sighed.

Dang humans.

[ragingbookdragon]

It's Who We Are Underneath That Defines Us

Kyle Rayner x Batsis One-Shot

Word Count: 1.9K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: Really gotta make the story where the Batfamily learns she and GL are dating. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

“Hey babe?”

She hummed absentmindedly, her eyes still trained to the stars above. “Yeah, Kyle?” Fingers twitched against her palm, then laced with her own; a heartbeat pounded against her skin, like a pulsing speaker, causing her to look over at him. “Is everything alright?”

Evergreen eyes met hers and he murmured, “Do you ever think about what life would be like if you weren’t a superhero?”

She blinked, the question giving her a slight pause. Leaning closer, she propped her chin in his shoulder and teased, “Thinking about how you could’ve had an apple pie and picket fence life, Kyle?”

A grin crossed his lips and he glanced over at her. “To be honest with you, (Y/N), I’m more of a cherry pie kinda man.” His gaze dropped, and his eyes roamed her body. “Blame Warrant on that one.” She rolled her eyes, but the laugh she gave him showed her amusement. Kyle paused, his gaze searching her face. “But back to my original question...what do you think you’d be doing if you weren’t a vigilante?”

(Y/N) inhaled deeply, rolling away from his shoulder and laid on her back, her eyes scanning the immense field of stars above them. “I don’t know, honestly. I’ve never really given it much thought.” Raising her hand, she traced the scars across her expanse of her arm with her eyes. “I’ve been training to be a vigilante since I was ten years old...helping people is all I’ve ever really wanted to do with life.”

She looked back over at him. “But since you asked, if I wasn’t a vigilante, I’d probably be a stuck-up rich bitch who overcharges her dad’s credit cards and throws hissy fits when she gets told no.” Kyle snorted, and she giggled.

After a moment of silence, he looked to her and asked, “Would you ever change anything you’ve done?”

The question he’d given her had been one she’s asked herself so many times. What if’s rising to the tongue of a girl too afraid to choose a path other than that of the least resistance, but ultimately keeping them contained and taking the hardest ones anyway. (Y/N) bit her lip slightly, the memories of every mistake, every wrong choice, flashing behind her eyes like lightning in a storm. The fingers laced though hers squeezed gently, dragging her from them, and she glanced back over, her eyes tracing the wisps of hair at his temples that had fallen from the gel he’d put in it earlier.

She blinked, then gave him a smile, her voice soft as she replied, “No...I don’t think I would change a single thing.”

Kyle’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he questioned, “Why not? Hasn’t there been a time where you’ve screwed up monumentally and couldn’t change it?”

(Y/N) watched him carefully, the words toying with the tip of her tongue as she asked calmly, “Are you talking about what happened to Alex?”

His face momentarily darkened, a mixture of anger, hate, and self-loathing, then it fell, and she saw the pain and regret in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he muttered, “I’m talking about everything that I’ve done wrong.” He sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, the heel of his tennis shoes scraping against the brick of the roof. He let out a heavy sigh, causing her heart to tighten, and she rose beside him, curling her arm through his.

They stared at the city across the water, then she murmured, “When I was sixteen, I accidentally shoved someone over a support beam during a fight.” He eyed her, silently wondering what had happened and just what the hell this had to do with his issues. “Didn't mean to, of course. But he grabbed me from behind, and I did what I'd been trained to do—react. I freed myself and made the distance between us. But I misjudged the force of my kick and he tumbled over and down about a hundred feet onto concrete.”

She paused, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. “When my family and friends saw what I’d done, even if it were an accident, a lot of them decided to keep me at an arm's length. ‘She might kill again’, they said, ‘If she’s killed once, she’ll do it again...there’s no way we can trust her anymore.’ Eventually, I stopped patrolling with the Titans and Teen Titans. Hell, I even stopped helping the Justice League. I did my own thing by myself because no one trusted me anymore. ‘Til this day, there are some people within the superhero community who shun me and don’t trust me. And at every meeting, somehow, someway, it's always brought up.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, squeezing his hand again. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, that follows me. It’s never going to be let go, and it’s certainly never going to be forgotten. However, despite those problems and feelings, and what occurred in the past, that accident doesn't define meor my actions. Yes, I unintentionally took someone’s life, but I’m not a murderer. I carry that burden with me, and I always will and while I can't change what happened, it drives me to make sure that I don't make the same mistake again.”

She let go of his hand, slipping her legs on either side of his body, her hands coming up to cup his cheeks; she caressed his cheekbones with her thumbs, staring into his eyes, and mustered the sincerest voice she could. “Kyle, what you’ve gone through, the people you’ve lost, the people you’ve saved, and the friends you’ve gathered along the way? That’s not who you are...it’s what you do with it that defines who you are.” His eyes widened slightly, and his lips parted to speak, but no words fell from them.

(Y/N) gave him a warm smile and leaned forward, pressing her lips against his forehead; she pulled back and murmured, “It may not mean much, but I'm proud of you, Kyle. You make me proud every single day.” She watched him exhale shakily, and she swore she could see the damn inside him breaking as he lowered his head, his arms reaching to pull her against him.

She shifted, perching in his lap, and let him bury his face in her neck. Kyle let out a breath, but it felt more like a soft sob, and heat blossomed against her skin where his lips touched.

He let out a sound, crossing between a groan and grunt as he told her, “I love you, (Y/N).”

She hummed, wrapping her arms around his neck, her lips brushing his temple. “I love you too, Kyle.”

They stayed that way for a few minutes, simply holding the other. Providing the anchors needed to keep their spirits alive. Eventually, (Y/N) pulled back and dragged his face away from her neck, huffing a laugh when he whined lowly from the loss of contact.

She reached up and wiped his face. “You look like a kid who was told no to ice-cream before dinner.”

Kyle let out a chuckle, moving her hands away and rubbing at his face vigorously. She climbed out of his lap and sat beside him once more, and he looked over at her wondering, “How do you manage to stay so positive outside the mask? To be the same person in costume and out?”

(Y/N) went silent, thinking for a moment, then she said, “A few years ago, I asked my dad the same thing, and he told me, ‘It doesn't matter who we are underneath the costume or out in the real world...it’s what we do in or out that defines us. If the person you claim to be isn’t the same person inside and outside of uniform, you don’t need to be wearing it.’” She glanced back over at him, nudging him in the ribs. “Don't worry about it though, you’re still a dork inside and out of G.L.”

Kyle let out an amused scoff, placing a hand against his chest. “I can't believe you would insult your boyfriend like that. A dork? I’m hurt.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, looking back at the city. “Kyle, you doodle in the middle of J.L. meetings, and it’s usually caricatures of my dad strangling Hal, the Joker, Jason, or Dick…typically it depends on what’s going on during the meetings and who’s been a pain in his ass for it.”

He opened his mouth to retort, but shut it, then raised a pointer finger at her. “Alright, you have me there.”

(Y/N) looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Of course I have you there, Dork Lantern...” She gave him a grin, wiggling her eyebrows and quipped, “I sit and doodle with you.” The two of them laughed, and she rested her head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh. “I could stay with you here forever.”

Kyle nodded, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Me too.”

A moment of silence passed them, and as they were enjoying it, a voice called out, “Oi! Kyle! Queenie! Are you guys up there!”

She let out a groan, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “So help me God, I can’t enjoy anything without dumb and dumber sticking their noses into it.”

Kyle looked over at her, his eyebrows furrowing as he pointed out, “But there’s only one?”

(Y/N) raised a hand in a ‘wait’ motion, then she waved it and, “Of course they’re up there Little-wing. The roof is where all the teens go to make out.”

Her eye twitched, and she leaned over the ledge, shouting, “The only person who’s made out on the roof is you, Dick. And it was with Kori after you guys broke up...AGAIN.”

A scoff sounded below followed by, “Hit me where it hurts why don't you!” She rolled her eyes, huffing, then he asked, “Is Kyle up there with you?”

“And what’s it to you?”

“Just wanted to make sure you guys are acting appropriate.”

“Dick...I am older than you. Kyle and I are both older than you.”

“So?”

(Y/N) turned to Kyle and mouthed, ‘Wanna get out of here?’ He flashed her a grin, then a strike of green blinded her, and he stood before her in his Green Lantern suit. He held out his hand. A beam of green light surrounded them, and a moment later, (Y/N) felt herself drop into a seat. She looked around, a grin appearing on her lips as she ran her hand along the dash of the constructed car.

“Kyle, are you trying to woo me with my love of nice cars?”

He matched her grin, laying his unoccupied arm across the seats. “I don't know...is it working?”

She nodded, sliding over into his side. “Yes. It is.” He chuckled, and they started moving, leaving her two brothers yelling for them.

“Kyle! Are you letting (Y/N) ride in the Green Machine?! You never let me do that!”

“(Y/N)’s my girlfriend, Jason!”

“I’M YOUR FUCKING BEST FRIEND! WHAT EVEN!”

She leaned across Kyle, glaring at Dick and Jason. “Go do something productive with your time, losers.”

“I am hurt, Jellybean! I thought you loved me!”

“Only when I can get something out of it!” (Y/N) glanced at Kyle and grinned. “Hit the gas G.L. Don't let ‘em catch the taillights.” He smirked, and they waved as they left Wayne Manor behind them.

[jeongvision]

bandaids

synopsis. in the midst of finals season, where routine takes over your lifestyle, you find solace in the voice of your most important person that always seem to know when you’re at your breaking point.

pairing. boyfriend! kim doyoung ✗ student! fem! reader

genre. fluff, angst, slice of life, hurt/comfort, college au, non idol au, established relationship au

word count. 1.8k words

warnings. cursing, mentions of anxiety, depictions of a mental breakdown

song. bandaids by keshi

author’s note. after looking at my calendar, it has come to my attention that it’s that time of the year: finals season. i just want to let all of you know that you are doing a great job. you made it this far and i’m proud of you. i promise you, you will get through this. hopefully this could give comfort in the midst of your studies. love you all.

friends of flowers fragile silence stand beside you stop your crying

If there is one thing that all college students could agree on, it’s that finals seasons are the absolute worst thing to ever go through in college. You’re constantly spending every night at the library with your eyes glued onto your textbooks, your brain rushing to keep up in retaining all the pertinent information needed for your exams. You’re devoting hours onto your laptop with your fingers typing away on your keyboard, internet tabs and pages cluttering your screen as you rush to reach the minimum page count required for your courses.

So many times you have declined all your friends’ requests for study dates or a simple get-together because you just don’t have the luxury to. As much as you’d love to take a break from your studies, you feel like you’re running out of time. It has gotten to the point where your boyfriend has to remind you every now and then to take breaks as he gets concerned for your well-being. And just when you thought you were done with one exam or assignment, you look back on your planner only to find out that there’s more to complete. It’s like your pile just doesn’t seem to lessen with each passing day, your mentality on the brink of collapse.

Just where is the end to all of this?

You are currently perched over your desk, packets of case studies splayed out on top of your corrections textbook. Your laptop screen shines bright at the corner, documents filled with infinitesimal texts and numbers. To your right lies your essential oil diffuser, planted right on your nightstand with fumes of aroma wafting through the air. You took your best friend’s suggestion in purchasing an aromatherapy diffuser to help relieve some stress you’ve accumulated from your studies. Lavender should help out, she said. But to your dismay, you don’t feel a single ounce of it lifting from your shoulders. Forcing your brain to believe its effective properties only puts your head more into a strain.

That’s when you felt a sharp pain rip through your skull. ‘Great,’ you groaned to yourself, ‘another fucking headache.’ You dropped your pen on your notebook and rubbed your fatigued eyes, the pressure from your fingertips massaging away. “God, I can’t wait for this semester to be over with already.”

Crossing your arms, you found your phone lying in the middle of your bed. You forgot that you left it on ‘do not disturb’, finally realizing why you didn’t hear your phone ring in the past few hours. You grabbed your phone off your bed. 2:58 am, it reads. Unlocking your phone, you skimmed through your notifications, your fingers swiftly responding to certain messages cluttered up in your phone until you reached to this one particular conversation:

hey babe (sent by doie <3, 11:01pm)

hope you’re eating your meals and drinking water (sent by doie <3, 11:01pm)

just want to let you know that i’m proud of you (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)

always am and always will (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)

love you (sent by doie <3, 11:02pm)

You could feel a smile blooming on your lips. It has been a while since you’ve seen Doyoung, let alone hear his voice. Is it too late to call him? ‘He might be sleeping,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Should I?’ Biting your lip, you mustered up the courage and decided to call him. Placing your phone against your ear, you awaited his call. The sound reverberates through your eardrums, the anticipation of having your call picked up diminishing with each passing ring. And just when you were about to give up, the tune stops short on its last ring.

“Hello?” a deep voice croaks.

You softly smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey,” you whispered. “Did I… wake you up?”

“No, no.” You hear him shuffling on his end, to what you could assume to be from his movements in his bed sheets. “Not at all, baby.” You couldn’t help but let out a giggle, touched over the fact he’s easing your guilt of awakening him from his much-needed slumber. “What’s wrong? You need something?”

You shrugged your shoulders, a habit you’ve developed when talking on the phone with someone. “No, not really.” You run your fingers through your hair before rubbing the nape of your neck. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

He lets out a tired chuckle. “I missed you, too.”

You hum a little, “How are your finals?”

He scoffs. “Shit.”

“Not surprised,” you giggled. “You only have one more left, right?”

“Yeah. Chem 4. After that, I’m ready to sleep for a whole week straight.”

“Can I join you in your sleeping session?”

“You most certainly can.”

You both shared a laugh, your mind finally distracted from the strenuous documents that resided on top of your desk. “I call dibs on being the small spoon.”

He chortles. “You’re funny.”

“Hey! It’s only fair.”

“That’s what you said when you ate my share of fries the other week.”

His voice was much livelier than before, fully awakened from his rest now. You missed the jolly feeling you’d get when you talked to him. All those days and nights spent by his side where nothing else mattered in the world except for your boyfriend, whispering loving affirmations to you just like always. You really did miss him, and you can’t wait for this semester to be over to spend quality time with him again.

“Hey, y/n?” he called out.

“Hm?”

“You know that all I ever ask of you is to be honest with me?”

Your smile drops. You know where this is going, and frankly, you’re not sure if you’re ready to have this conversation again. Time after time, he would start a conversation with that question followed by his ongoing concerns wrapped in his mind. Sometimes he would ask for your second opinion, but most of the time they were diverted to you, his forever lover. And you knew this time, this is going to be about you.

Your free hand fiddled with the ends of your finger as you chew on your lip again, your eyes peering down to your lap.

“... yes,” you murmured.

You could hear your heart beating through your ears, the silence deafening the space that encompassed you around. Neither one of you uttered a sound to the other, too afraid to whisper through the thick tension planted in the air. Outside your dorm, there are muffled footsteps fading in and out by your door, most likely from your dorm neighbors coming back from another one of their library sessions. He lets out a soft sigh on his end, not one filled with annoyance, but filled with worry, his attention all focused onto you.

“... are you okay?”

And just like that, you felt the dam inside you crumble to ashes. The mask that you’ve held from the past few weeks is finally dissolving, the facade released from its shackles. Weeks of putting up a front, telling yourself that everything is okay, is now coming to end. ‘I’m fine,’ you would say to yourself. ‘This is nothing, I can handle this myself.’

Oh but darling, there’s only so much you could take in. Not everyone is perfect, and not everyone is indestructible. May we all be human, for we laugh, cry, smile, frown, scream, shout, cheer.

Tears burned through your eyelids, blurring your line of vision as you tried to hold yourself together. You shakily let out a sigh. “.... no,” your voice cracks. Another deep sigh, and you felt a tear drip down your cheek. “I’m… I’m tired, Doyoung.” More tears cascade down your cheeks, bringing your sleeves up to wipe them away with each drop. “I’m exhausted, Doyoung. I’m tired.. of all of this. I’m—”

With the phone still pressed against your ear, you sobbed into the night, finally pouring all your boxed-in emotions out to your lover. You cried out your frustrations, your anger, your desolace. Long have your soul been used to routine that you forgot what warmth felt like. To be cared for, watched for, and loved for.

Your sleeves soaked up all your tears, your eyelids certainly swollen from the sudden rush. You take even breaths, calming yourself down from your breakdown. Throughout your cries, never once did Doyoung strayed away from you, ears firmly pressed against his ear. He took in all, every last drop to mitigate the cold shell you’ve developed over time. He said nothing, only offering his presence as a sort of comfort to you for the time being. Once silence took over, all your tears spent, that’s when he spoke up.

“You did well, y/n.”

You breathing hitches for a moment, heart skipping a beat from his words.

“I’m so, so proud of you, y/n. You made it this far into the semester and for that, I’m proud of you.”

And alas, your smile returns. Minuscule it may be, but it’s more than what you could ask for. The feeling of having your shoulders lifted from your burdens made you feel like you could fly again, soar up in the clouds. Your best friend certainly knows how to cheer you up the most.

“Sorry about all of that,” you chuckled.

“Don’t be sorry.”

You shook your head. “No, I am. You literally just heard me have a breakdown and cry with snots all over the place—”

“I don’t give a damn about all of that, y/n.” There’s a slight shuffle on his end. “I love you for you, and that’s never going to change. I will love you at your lowest, and I will love you at your highest. Even when you feel like there’s no hope left in this world, I will bring you back to earth and hold you and remind you that you are hope.”

Just when you thought you had no more tears left in your system, you could feel the waterworks starting again. You bite down on your lower lip, desperately holding it in as love overcomes you.

“You did well, y/n. Only two more finals to go and you’re finally free.”

You wipe away the stray tear that befallen on your cheek. “Thank you, Doyoung. Really.”

“Now go out there and kick some ass for me, alright? Show those professors who’s the boss around here.”

You giggled. With your two fingers on your temple, you did an informal salute. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl.”

Let this be a reminder to you, to all, that there will always be one person that will love you at your lowest, and will always be there to help pick you back up.

i’m afraid that bandaids are no good for heartache not okay, so tell me when your world is falling down

[usuallyapirate]

A short Introduction to the most common Player-Races in Dungeons and Dragons as given by the DnD 5e Players Handbook:

Dwarf

“Yer late,elf!” came the rough edge of a familiar voice. Bruenor Battlehammer walked up the back of his dead foe, disregarding the fact that the heavy monster lay on top of his elven friend. In spite of the added discomfort, the dwarf’s long, pointed, often-broken nose and gray-streaked though still-fiery red beard came as a welcome sight to Drizzt. “Knew I’d find ye in trouble if I came out an' looked for ye!" 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crysta lShard

Kingdoms rich in ancient grandeur, halls carved into the roots of mountains, the echoing of picks and hammers in deep mines and blazing forges, a commitment to clan and tradition, and a burning hatred of goblins and orcs—these common threads unite all dwarves.

Elf

“I HAVE NEVER IMAGINED SUCH BEAUTY EXISTED,” Goldmoon said softly. The day’s march had been difficult, but the reward at the end was beyond their dreams. The companions stood on a high cliff over the fabled city of Qualinost. Four slender spires rose from the city’s corners like glistening spindles, their brilliant white stone marbled with shining silver. Graceful arches, swooping from spire to spire, soared through the air. Crafted by ancient dwarven metalsmiths, they were strong enough to hold the weight of an army, yet they appeared so delicate that a bird lighting on them might overthrow the balance. These glistening arches were the city’s only boundaries; there was no wall around Qualinost. The elven city opened its arms lovingly to the wilderness.

 – Margaret Weis & Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it. They live in places of ethereal beauty, in the midst of ancient forests or in silvery spires glittering with faerie light, where soft music drifts through the air and gentle fragrances waft on the breeze. Elves love nature and magic, art and artistry, music and poetry, and the good things of the world.

Halfling

Regis the halfling, the only one of his kind for hundreds of miles in any direction, locked his fingers behind his head and leaned back against the mossy blanket of the tree trunk. Regis was short, even by the standards of his diminutive race, with the fluff of his curly brown locks barely cresting the three-foot mark, but his belly was amply thickened by his love of a good meal, or several, as the opportunities presented themselves. The crooked stick that served as his fishing pole rose up above him, clenched between two of his toes, and hung out over the quiet lake, mirrored perfectly in the glassy surface of Maer Dualdon. 

– R.A. Salvatore, The Crystal Shard

The comforts of home are the goal of most halflings‘ lives: a place to settle in peace and quiet, far from marauding monsters and clashing armies; a blazing fire and a generous meal; fine drink and fine conversation. Though some halflings live out their days in remote agricultural communities, others form nomadic bands that travel constantly, lured by the open road and the wide horizon to discover the wonders of new lands and peoples. But even these wanderers love peace, food, hearth, and home, though home might be a wagon jostling along a dirt road or a raft floating downriver.

Human

These were the stories of a restless people who long ago took to the seas and rivers in longboats, first to pillage and terrorize, then to settle. Yet there was an energy, a love of adventure, that sang from every page. Long into the night Uriel read, lighting candle after precious candle. She'd never given much thought to humans, but these stories fascinated her. In these yellowed pages were tales of bold heroes, strange and fierce animals, mighty primitive gods, and a magic that was part and fabric of that distant land. 

– Elaine Cunningham, Daughter of the Drow

In the reckonings of most worlds, humans are the youngest of the common races, late to arrive on the world scene and short-lived in comparison to dwarves, elves, and dragons. Perhaps it is because of their shorter lives that they strive to achieve as much as they can in the years they are given. Or maybe they feel they have something to prove to the elder races, and that’s why they build their mighty empires on the foundation of conquest and trade. Whatever drives them, humans are the innovators, the achievers, and the pioneers of the worlds.

Dragonborn

Her father stood on the first of the three stairs that led down from the portal, unmoving. The scales of his face had grown paler around the edges, but Clanless Mehen still looked as if he could wrestle down a dire bear himself. His familiar well-worn armor was gone, replaced by violet-tinted scale armor with bright silvery tracings. There was a blazon on his arm as well, the mark of some foreign house. The sword at his back was the same, though, the one he had carried since even before he had found the twins left in swaddling at the gates of Arush Vayem. Father’s face was as kill she'd been fortunate to learn. A human who couldn’t spot the shift of her eyes or Havilar’s would certainly see only the indifference of a dragon in Clanless Mehen’s face. But the shift of scales, the arch of a ridge, the set of his eyes, the gape of his teeth – her father's face spoke volumes. But every scale of it, this time, seemed completely still— the indifference of a dragon, even to Farideh.

– Erin M. Evans, The Adversary

Born of dragons, as their name proclaims, the dragonborn walk proudly through a world that greets them with fearful incomprehension. Shaped by draconic gods or the dragons themselves, dragonborn originally hatched from dragon eggs as a unique race, combining the best attributes of dragons and humanoids. Some dragonborn are faithful servants to true dragons, others form the ranks of soldiers in great wars, and still others find themselves adrift, with no clear calling in life.

Gnome

Skinny and flaxen-haired, his skin walnut brown and his eyes a startling turquoise, Burgell stood half as tall as Aeron climb up on a stool to look out the peephole. Like most habitations in Oeble, that particula tenement had been built for humans, and smaller residents coped with the resulting awkwardness as best they could. But at least the relative largeness of the apartment gave Burgell room to pack in all his gnome-sized gear. The front room was his workshop, and it contained a bewildering miscellany of tools: hammers, chisels, saws, lockpicks, tinted lenses, jeweler's loupes, and jars of powdered and shredded ingredients for casting spells. A fat gray cat, the mage’s familiar, lay curled atop a grimoire. It opened its eyes, gave Aeron a disdainful yellow stare, then appeared to go back to sleep. 

– Richard Lee Byers, The Black Bouquet

A constant hum of busy activity pervades the warrens and neighborhoods where gnomes form their close-knit communities. Louder sounds punctuate the hum: a crunch of grinding gears here, a minor explosion there, a yelp of surprise or triumph, and especially bursts of laughter. Gnomes take delight in life, enjoying every moment of invention, exploration, investigation, creation, and play.

Half-Elf

Flint squinted into the setting sun. He thought he saw the figure of a man striding up the path. Standing, Flint drew back into the shadow of a tall pine to see better. The man's walk was marked by an easy grace – an elvish grace, Flint would have said; yet the man’s body had the thickness and tight muscles of a human, while the facial hair was definitely humankind’s. All the dwarf could see of the man’s face beneath a green hood was tan skin and a brownish-red beard. A longbow was slung over one shoulder and a sword hung at his left side. He was dressed in soft leather, carefully tooled in the intricate designs the elves loved. But no elf in the world of Krynn could grow a beard ... no elf, but...

“Tanis?” said Flint hesitantly as the man neared.

“The same.” The newcomer’s bearded face split in a wide grin. He held open his arms and, before the dwarf could stop him, engulfed Flint in a hug that lifted him off the ground. The dwarf clasped his old friend close for a brief instant, then, remembering his dignity, squirmed and freed himself from the half-elf’s embrace. 

– Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Dragons of Autumn Twilight

Walking in two worlds but truly belonging to neither, half-elves combine what some say are the best qualities of their elf and human parents: human curiosity, inventiveness, and ambition tempered by the refined senses, love of nature, and artistic tastes of the elves. Some half-elves live among humans, set apart by their emotional and physical differences, watching friends and loved ones age while time barely touches them. Others live with the elves, growing restless as they reach adulthood in the timeless elven realms, while their peers continue to live as children. Many half-elves, unable to fit into either society, choose lives of solitary wandering or join with other misfits and outcasts in the adventuring life.

Half-Orc

The warchief Mhurren roused himself from his sleeping-furs and his women and pulled a short hauberk of heavy steel rings over his thick, well-muscled torso. He usually rose before most of his warriors, since he had a strong streak of human blood in him, and he found the daylight less bothersome than most of his tribe did. Among the Bloody Skulls, a warrior was judged by his strength, his fierceness, and his wits. Human ancestry was no blemish against a warrior – provided he was every bit as strong, enduring, and blood thirsty as his full-blooded kin. Half-orcs who were weaker than their orc comrades didn't last long among the Bloody Skulls or any other orc tribe for that matter. But it was often true that a bit of human blood gave a warrior just the right mix of cunning, ambition, and self-discipline to go far indeed, as Mhurren had. He was master of a tribe that could muster two thousand spears, and the strongest chief in Thar. 

– Richard Baker, Swordmage

Whether united under the leadership of a mighty warlock or having fought to a standstill after years of conflict, orc and human tribes sometimes form alliances, joining forces into a larger horde to the terror of civilized lands nearby. When these alliances are sealed by marriages, half-orcs are born. Some half-orcs rise to become proud chiefs of orc tribes, their human blood giving them an edge over their full-blooded orc rivals. Some venture into the world to prove their worth among humans and other more civilized races. Many of these become adventurers, achieving greatness for their mighty deeds and notoriety for their barbaric customs and savage fury.

Tiefling

“But you do see the way people look at you, devil’s child." Those black eyes, cold as a winter storm, were staring right into her heart and the sudden seriousness in his voice jolted her.

“What is it they say?" he asked. “One’s a curiosity, two’s a conspiracy—”

“Three's a curse,” she finished. “You think I haven’t heard that rubbish before?”

“I know you have.” When she glared at him, he added, “It’s not as if I’m plumbing the depths of your mind, dear girl. That is the burden of every tiefling. Some break under it, some make it the millstone around their neck, some revel in it.” He tilted his head again, scrutinizing her, with that wicked glint in hiseyes. “You fight it, don’t you? Like a little wildcat, I wager. Every little jab and comment just sharpens your claws.” 

– Erin M. Evans, Brimstone Angels

To be greeted with stares and whispers, to suffer violence and insult on the street, to see mistrust and fear in every eye: this is the lot of the tiefling. And to twist the knife, tieflings know that this is because a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus – overlord of the Nine Hells – into their bloodline. Their appearance and their nature are not their fault but the result of an ancient sin, for which they and their children and their children’s children will always be held accountable.

[kmikaelsonimagines]

August: A Kol Mikaelson Imagine

Request from Anon: August please <3

Request from @cinnamonwitchlana​: could you do august please? (for the folklore collection)🤍i love your imagines!!

Just a reminder that requests are fully open now! Please check this post for details! Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

August

Salt air, and the rust on your door I never needed anything more

Kol was aware of Elijah reading a newspaper, the pages rustling as he turned each one. It annoyed him and as was typical of the youngest Mikaelson brother, he made his point known. Kol stood up, and snatched the paper from his brother’s hands, folding it up and putting it on the table.

There. As near to silence as Kol would get, the only sound the air coming from the fan on the porch.

“Dare I ask what exactly that paper, or maybe I, did to cause such a reaction?” Kol looked over at a shocked Elijah. “Is this about Y/N?”

Yes. Yes it was about Y/N. It had been five years since Kol had seen her, five years stuck in a phantom prison with his siblings, not knowing if she was dead or alive. When he had got home last night, he had expected to see her, needing nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her with as much as passion as he could muster.

But instead, Klaus had come out of his daughter’s bedroom and told him that it was where Y/N was, asleep with her niece. According to Hayley, it was the first time she had slept properly in the time he had been gone, almost like she knew he was coming back, and Kol didn’t want to disturb that.

So he had spent the night awake, waiting. He hadn’t seen her this morning either, and it was about an hour ago that it had dawned on him that maybe she wouldn’t want to see him. Maybe she didn’t love him anymore.

So yes, it was about Y/N. He was staring at a rusty old door, waiting for Y/N to walk through it, worried about her confirming his greatest fears

Whispers of "Are you sure?" "Never have I ever before”

“I don’t know why you’re so worried.” Kol glared at Elijah. It was easy for him to say that. Hayley had been there when he had woken up, and had been quick to fall back into his arms. Maybe Kol wouldn’t have been so agitated if Y/N had been there, but he didn’t blame her for staying behind.

His hunger had been insatiable when he woke up, and he was sure he wouldn’t have cared just who he was feasting on.

But now he had a different hunger, one that could only be satisfied by Y/N walking out of that door and devouring his lips in her own. He always had that hunger when he was parted from her, always needed her around to hold his hand, to thread her fingers through his hair, to kiss his cheek and whisper three little words into his ear.

He whispered to her too, words of love and affection, the question of are you sure on his lips the first time they had been in bed together, the first time he had truly felt what it was like to have her skin on his, to be one with her. He would never forget that look in her eyes when they were together, her gaze shining with love for him.

Elijah was right, he had nothing to worry about, did he? It was what he told himself, but worry wouldn’t stop gnawing at him until he laid his eyes on Y/N.

But I can see us lost in the memory August slipped away into a moment in time

“She loves you, Kol. Anyone would have to be blind not to see that.” Kol refrained from saying what he thought, from voicing his concerns aloud in fear of making them real; yes, Y/N certainly loved him five years ago, but there was no saying what had changed since he had been gone.

He pushed down his vulnerability and instead came out with a remark typical of him. “You must not be feeling well, Elijah. You haven’t voiced your disapproval.” Elijah scoffed.

In the past, Elijah had never been one to shy away from the fact that he thought Kol was a bad influence on Y/N. Kol had even heard the words she could do better leave his brother’s mouth, but had never taken it to heart. Elijah cared about Y/N, his whole family did, and that was good enough for Kol. She had enough protection if she needed it.

“Maybe it’s the sun. Puts me in a good mood, Kol, you know that.” Yes, the sun certainly had a pleasant quality about it. Summer had always been Y/N’s favourite time of year too, and Kol would always exploit that, using it to his advantage to plan elaborate outings where he could use his romantic prowess to its full ability.

Where they could be lost in the memories of each other, letting time slip away without a care in the world.

'Cause it was never mine And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

“It’ll be fine, Kol. I promise you.” Elijah looked at Kol with the caring gaze of an older brother. It didn’t come out very often, but when it did, Kol knew it was genuine. He smiled, and leaned against the table, before reaching behind him and picking up the newspaper.

“You can have this back now.”

Elijah chuckled. “You can keep it. We have more important things to look forward to if you listen.”

Kol put the paper back down, and listened. He froze. He could hear Y/N’s voice, hear her laugh for the first time in five years. She was speaking to Hope, telling her all about how her family was waiting outside, that it was okay to be nervous. And then he heard the question that made him smile.

“Are you nervous about seeing Uncle Kol, Auntie Y/N?”

“Very. But it’s okay, because I know he loves me.” Kol didn’t bother listening to the rest of the conversation. Y/N was nervous about seeing him. Surely that meant that she still valued his opinion, that she still loved him. Her words played over and over in his head, the sound of her voice enough to make the heat rise to his cheeks, for his heart to grow.

He could see the events of the day in his mind, that moment when they would be alone and he would show her just how much he did love her, when they were tangled in linen sheets, indulging in each other and their reunion.

In the promise to stay with each other for the rest of their lives.

Kol looked up as the door opened.

August sipped away like a bottle of wine 'Cause you were never mine

She was more beautiful than Kol remembered.

She looked at him with that shy smile of hers, and tucked her hair behind her ear. All of his concern disappeared as he saw hers, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss it away. But before he did that-

He nodded at the red-headed girl holding on tight to Y/N’s hand. His niece that clearly doted on Y/N just as much as he did. Y/N whispered something to Hope and the little girl smiled, letting go of her aunt’s hand.

Nothing else mattered as Kol strode over to Y/N and kissed her.

When her arms wrapped around his neck, when his hands found the small of her back, when he tasted her, that hunger finally satiated, time was irrelevant. He knew it was passing before his eyes, knew that others were watching the two reunite but none of that mattered.

He had his Y/N back. No, not his, never his. Her own person, his equal, his everything.

He had her back, and as the sun beat down on the couple, Summer providing the perfect backdrop for their reunion, for Y/N to look in his eyes and tell him she loved him, Kol Mikaelson knew only one thing.

He was never going to let her go again.

Masterlist

Folklore Masterlist

[hotpinkhoshi]

devour (m)

pairing: human!baekhyun x vampire!reader (f) genre: smut, paranormal warnings: mentions of blood, pain, monsters etc, explicit sex involving some slight dom/sub themes but not really. a lot of position switching, oral (m receiving), cursing  word count: 6.6k summary: you’re thirsty. so damn thirsty. and baekhyun is the only one that can give you what you want. it’s the last time, really the last time, you tell yourself.  a/n: hello my lovely amazing readers! thank you so much for being so patient with me these last several months, i know i haven’t been very consistent with my posting BUT i promise i’m trying. i started this piece about 3 weeks ago and my only goal was to finish it by the end of the month. thankfully i just barely finished in time! i hope you enjoy but first, a disclaimer: i haven’t read or watched anything about vampires in many years so i know there may be things that don’t technically make sense. vampire enthusiasts pls do not come for me, i did my best.  thanks to: all my followers, @jjinyounf for discussing vampire reproductive systems, & @flowerbeom​ and @jjpmoans​ for hyping me up and giving me love and encouragement whenever i need it, which is a lot!

Last time, you told yourself it was the last time. 

The last time you let Baekhyun into your apartment at half past three in the morning, so out of your mind starving that you could hardly even see straight. The last time you let him take you, command your body like it was no longer your own.

You should have known you were lying to yourself. 

You [3:28am]: are you up?

Baek [3:29am]: yea, why?

You [3:31am]: can you come over? 

After your last message, you got no response. Perhaps, you thought, he’d fallen asleep or worse, had no interest in being your blood bag for the night. You would be disappointed, but you wouldn’t blame him. 

You rolled over in bed, flopping onto your stomach as you buried your face into your pillow. Maybe you could simply push through and wait until morning, when Kyungsoo would be awake and able to help you. 

After you turned a few months ago, totally unexpectedly, it had flipped your world upside down. Kyungsoo found you, shivering and delirious by a dumpster where your fun little one night stand had left you. 

Kyungsoo was human, but he was the type of person that people trusted and allowed into their worlds, no matter who they were. As one of the general surgeons of the local hospital, he’d gotten himself into a position of substantial power over both the humans and the vampires of your city. He never used it as a weapon—only as leverage to keep the humans safe.

When he found you, he’d wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to his apartment, but you didn’t remember anything until many days later. Kyungsoo nursed you to health, providing you with a vampire crash course to prepare you for the rest of your life. Of eternity. 

Then he’d introduced you to some of his friends at a party after you were more comfortable, although you had yet to feed on a living human. There was a whole community of humans that got off on it, that lived for the pain and pleasure of letting a vampire feed on them. 

It was at this party that you met Baekhyun. He had a mischievous glint in his eye when Kyungsoo told him your name and left the two of you alone in the dimly lit, smoky club basement. Something about that look in Baekhyun’s eyes told you he knew you’d be his by the end of the night. 

The feeling, the taste, the pure ecstasy of finally consuming fresh blood was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before, even when you were alive. Your senses were heightened as a vampire as it was, but as soon as his blood hit your tongue, it was like your world exploded into a million colors. 

But even though you’d been the monster drinking his blood, Baekhyun remained in control. He laid you out on his bed and pinned your wrists to the mattress with one hand, his other wrist pressed into your mouth as he forced you to feed. 

You whimpered and cried out when it was too much, when the overstimulation of his blood and the way he was rocking into you at a brutally rhythmic pace had you seeing stars. He never relented; only fucked you harder as you writhed under him. 

After that night, you never wanted anyone else. Baekhyun was the only man you wanted to feed from. With him, you didn’t feel like a monster. You didn’t feel like a thing, like a horror story to tell in the dark. 

He made you feel human again. 

Tonight, the thirst was too much to handle. It was clouding your mind and keeping you awake as you twisted and turned under the covers. You couldn’t tell if you were craving his blood or craving him, but you were too weak to care. 

You hated the thirst. It was like dehydration, tenfold. Your head hurt, your lips were dry no matter how many times you wet them, and all you could think about was warm blood sliding down your throat. It was maddening. 

The telltale sound of your apartment’s buzzer had you sitting up in bed, so quickly that it made your head spin, the noise signaling that you had a visitor down at the main entrance to your building. 

You scurried off the bed and hurried to the door, nearly running into it as you slid on the hardwood in your socks to let him in. You told yourself the eagerness to see him was only because you were thirsty, certainly nothing more.

As soon as you opened the door, you felt embarrassingly underdressed. 

Baekhyun had dyed his hair since you’d last seen him. It was now a silver blonde, perfectly messy and framing his stupidly beautiful features. He’d been out tonight, you realized. The glitter on his cheekbones gave it away. 

His hands were stuffed comfortably in the pockets of his leather jacket with a faded graphic tee underneath, and expertly tailored black jeans practically painted onto his lower half. 

You tugged the hem of your T-shirt down, even though he’d already had you in positions that you hadn’t even thought were physically possible—vampire or not. For some reason, you still felt bare in front of him in your pajama shorts and oversized tee.

“Hmm,” Baekhyun hummed as he stepped inside, letting the heavy door close behind him. He smelled like smoke and rum. “Look at you. Is someone thirsty?”

You blinked, grateful that you were incapable of blushing. As ravenous and desperate for blood as you were, the way he looked you up and down made you feel small and shy. 

“Can I?” you asked, reaching for his wrist, half tucked into the pocket of his jacket. 

“Uh-uh.” He stepped back just before your fingers brushed his skin. “You know that’s not how it works, baby. You still need to work for it.” 

If you wanted to, you could muster your strength and slam him into the door, dive for his neck and bleed him dry before he even realized what was happening. But you didn’t. You wanted this, you wanted to beg and plead until finally, he rewarded you. 

“Baekhyun,” you whispered, then dragged your tongue over the dry, cracking skin of your lips. “I’m so thirsty. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He seemed pleased by this, judging by the way his lips turned into a familiar smirk. “I know you will. Come on, let’s go sit down.” 

You followed him to the living room obediently, watching as he made himself comfortable on the couch. He shrugged his jacket off, revealing the expanse of his forearms down to his wrists, covered in bite marks in various stages of healing. 

All from you. 

If he had chosen to get his fix somewhere else, you wouldn’t have any reason to be envious or hurt. But it filled you with a sense of pride that he didn’t, that you were the only one he allowed to taste him. 

You moved to sit next to him, but Baekhyun stopped you. He took your hand, leading you to stand in between his parted legs. 

“Knees.” 

It took one word for you to drop to the carpet, your bare knees pressing into the old scratchy shag rug you’d had for ages. He kept your fingers in his palm, rubbing his thumb idly over the back of your hand. 

“Good girl.” With his other hand, he tucked your hair behind your ear, his wrist brushing against your cheek so that you could hear the pulse beneath his skin. 

“Baek…” you began, turning slightly until your nose brushed his skin. “Just a taste. Please.”

Baekhyun lifted your chin with his finger and locked eyes with you. You filled with warmth already, just one look enough to send your mind racing with images of everything you wanted from him. His blood was further down the list than you would have thought.

“Just a taste,” he repeated. 

With that, he let go of your hand and turned slightly to reach into the pocket of his discarded jacket. When he pulled out the shiny folded metal, you gulped hungrily. 

The pocketknife brandished with a metallic click. 

It wasn’t uncommon for humans to carry weapons these days. After all, vampires weren’t the only monsters that roamed the streets after dusk, and not all vampires were quite as friendly with humans as you were. 

Your eyes followed Baekhyun’s nimble fingers as he brought the very end of his knife to his middle finger, twisting the point into his fingertip until a spot of blood appeared. 

It took every bit of self control that you possessed not to reach out in desperation for his hand and bring it to your mouth. But you knew better—you knew if you broke, Baekhyun would stand up and walk out the door like you were less than nothing to him. 

He watched you with interest as he held his finger just out of your reach, eyes dancing with that mischievous stare he had when he teased you. You would despise it if you didn’t know that eventually, he always caved. 

Finally, when your mouth had gone dry and you could feel the warm tingle that meant your fangs were about to protrude, Baekhyun brought his index and middle fingers to your mouth. 

He slipped them past the parched skin of your lips, your entire world blooming as soon as his middle finger touched the center of your tongue. You moaned, eyes falling shut. 

“Look how needy you are,” he remarked after a beat. His voice was strained, though, as if watching your display of bliss was causing him physical pain. 

He let you go for a while, maybe half a minute, before he was removing his fingers from your mouth. You couldn’t help but whine, resisting every urge not to grab at his wrist to keep him there. 

With the small amount of his blood you’d been able to milk from his finger, you already felt renewed. A surge of energy coursed through you like you’d just been injected with adrenaline. 

“What do you say?” Baekhyun asked with a cocked brow. 

You swallowed, licking any remnants of his blood from your lips. “Thank you.” 

Without a second thought, you reached for Baekhyun’s belt, fingers quickly undoing the metal buckle. Your ears picked up the quickening of his heartbeat from the moment you undid the button of his pants. 

It was no surprise that most vampire-human relationships, if not ending in death, ended in sex. Feeding, in your experience, was extremely sensual and instantly created feelings of arousal within both parties. It was almost better than sex, and when the two came together? It was euphoric. 

You were pleased to find him half-hard already by the time you got his zipper down, your hand wrapping around the length of him under the fabric of his briefs. Baekhyun inhaled sharply, holding his breath until you had pulled his cock from his underwear. 

Only a few seconds passed before you leaned forward, parting your lips to run your tongue along the underside of his member. Your eyes remained open, locked on Baekhyun’s face to gauge his reaction. 

He loved it, of course. 

With a groan, he tipped his head back, exposing his throat and sending a shockwave to your core. You wanted his throat, his neck, all of that fresh, warm blood pumping beneath his skin. But you wanted to taste it while he was inside of you. It would be worth the wait. 

Your eyes fell shut as you took his length into your mouth, deeper and deeper with each stroke until he hit the back of your throat. Unlike men you’d been with when you were human, Baekhyun made no effort to remain quiet. He was loud, and you loved it. 

If you had your way, all of your days would be filled with Baekhyun’s voice. His moans, his rough whispers in your ear, his laugh, his hums as he completed mundane tasks like wiping down the counters or tying his shoes. Deep down, you wanted it all.

“Good girl, that’s my girl,” he whispered, reaching forward to lace his fingers in your hair. He curled his hand into a tight fist, a deliciously sharp pain spreading across your scalp. 

You whimpered, lips wrapped tight and wet around him. He guided you back and forth for a while with his hand in your hair, muttering soft praises all the while. By the way his hips were twitching towards your face, you knew he was getting lost in the ministrations of your mouth. 

Baekhyun soon dropped his hand from your hair, signaling you to pull away, just in time for him to stand up and pull you to your feet. 

A squeak of surprise fell from your lips as he lifted you, hooking your legs around his waist in a simple, swift movement.

“Bed,” he said simply. 

Baekhyun carried you through your apartment as if it was his own, lips kissing and nipping at your neck as he dodged every obstacle between the two of you and the bedroom. He stopped once, in the hallway, to lean you into wall and roll his hips into your center. 

His name came out as a sigh. 

Then, finally, he dropped you onto the center of your bed. It was messy from your previous tossing around in the sheets from your thirst, but neither of you cared. Baekhyun reached for the comforter, knotted and piled together under your lower back, and easily tossed it off the bed to leave nothing but the sheets under you. 

He stood at the foot of the bed, chest heaving up and down, and ran his fingers through his hair. The look in his eyes had you squirming, ready for him to devour you in every way possible. 

“Are you still thirsty, baby?” 

Your heart clenched at the pet name, even though he always called you that, loving the way it sounded on his lips. You gulped, nodding as you batted your eyelashes. 

“Yes,” you admitted. 

“Take off your clothes,” he told you, hands reaching for his jeans, still unbuttoned, to push them down his legs. 

It took less than a second for you to obey, clutching the waistband of your shorts and shoving them off of you. You knew he liked when you kept your underwear on, just so he could use it to further torture you by keeping a layer between you. 

You slipped your thin T-shirt off, throwing it to the side and laying back into the mattress again. Baekhyun had removed his own shirt, leaving just his briefs from letting you see all of him. 

You could marvel at his body for hours—he was slender, but solid. He wasn’t much taller than you, but his shoulders were broad enough to make you feel protected in those rare moments when he held you in his arms. 

This time, though, you noticed something new. There was a handful of bruises and scratches marring his body, completely different from the puncture marks that your fangs left when you fed on him. Blinking, you furrowed your eyebrows, fingers reaching out. 

“What are-”

“No questions,” Baekhyun cut you off, reaching for your hands before they could reach their destination. His face softened, ever so slightly, when you quickly retreated, curling your hands up near your own chest. “We’re not here to talk, are we, baby?”

Just like that, he made you forget the suspicious marks on his chest, even one slash that looked particularly painful. Almost like he’d been cut by a knife.  

Watching the way he licked his lips as his eyes traveled down your body, slowly, so slowly, you were easily steered back to the task at hand. You dropped your hands to the sheets, digging your nails into the fabric as he overwhelmed each of your senses. 

Even from here, you could smell his blood. From here, you could hear the steady, strong beat of his heart, taste the alcohol and nicotine of his kiss. Your body was calling out to him and you weren’t sure how much longer you could deny what it needed. 

“Baekhyun,” you found yourself whining, hips squirming under his hungry gaze. 

His eyes snapped up to your face then, so much desire and pure lust in his stare that you felt a brand new surge of heat travel through your limbs. 

“Mm, first…” he pressed one knee down into the mattress, then the other, until he was hovering over you. “We have to see if you’re ready for me, don’t we?” 

Baekhyun led a painfully light touch down the middle of your chest with his index and middle fingers, between your bare breasts, and down the valley of your stomach at a pace that had you biting your tongue just to keep from begging him for the nth time. It would only further encourage him to play with you, of which you could only tolerate so much. 

You knew his moves by now, knew that he would trail those fingers down to your waist, over the elastic of your panties until he found the evidence of your arousal between your legs. You knew his moves, and he still had you whimpering the moment his fingers brushed your clit through your panties. 

Your toes curled into the sheets as you tried desperately not to show how crazy he was making you. He knew already, though, the moment he slid his fingers beneath the waistband of your panties and found wetness between your legs. 

“Oh,” Baekhyun said with a smirk, tongue running cheekily along his lower lip. “You’re dripping, Y/N. You’re this wet just from sucking me off?”

Again, you were grateful for your inability to blush. 

“Answer me,” he demanded suddenly, eyes turning dark just the way you liked them. 

“Yes!” you replied, hips canting up towards Baekhyun’s hand. “Yes, I’m this wet just from sucking you off.” 

Even after you closed your eyes, you were sure you could see the cocky smirk that was undoubtedly painted upon his lips. He lived for this, the feeling of absolutely owning you. You, an immortal, bloodthirsty, powerful woman despite how weak he made you. 

As his fingers delved lower, just until he could dip them into your entrance, you mewled and turned your cheek towards the pillow. “Please,” you breathed. 

Baekhyun’s lips brushed your neck. “Please, what?” 

“Want you… want-“ you sighed as his fingers pushed deeper, to his second knuckle. “Want you inside.”

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t surprise you when he finally gave in, but you couldn’t complain. Though he didn’t concede without a few deep pumps of his fingers, enough to have you gasping and close to ripping the sheets apart beneath you. 

Baekhyun slipped his fingers from you and stood from the bed, his hands pushing down his briefs without hesitation. He nodded at you once, motioning with his chin to the headboard behind you. 

“On your knees, and face the headboard.” 

Renewed with your need to feel Baekhyun inside of you, you easily flipped over onto all fours, that warm sensation in your gums warning you that your fangs would extend at any moment. You didn’t fight it, hoping that it wouldn’t be much longer until you would need them. 

“Fuck,” Baekhyun exhaled, just before you felt the bed shift with his weight as he moved behind you. “You’re beautiful, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love seeing you like this.” 

You’re beautiful. 

The words echoed in your mind, though you knew they probably shouldn’t. He rarely complimented you so boldly, especially before he was inside of you, overwhelmed with pleasure and pain. Curling your hands into fists, you shoved your feelings down because you needed to. A survival instinct, really. 

Because if you fell for him, if you opened your heart, the odds were against you. You weren’t sure why he chose you, why you were the only one he allowed to feed from him, but you couldn’t let yourself see it as any more than a mutual transaction of pleasure.

Baekhyun snapped you out of your thoughts easily the moment he pressed up against you from behind, his hands molding down your sides until he could place them upon your hips. 

You hung your head between your shoulders, reaching your hands out to grip the wooden slats of your headboard. The anticipation was always the best, and worst, part of this. 

It almost scared you how well Baekhyun knew your body. He knew when he trailed his fingertips down between your shoulder blades that you’d shiver and bite your lip, using every ounce of willpower that you possessed not to beg him. Even though you were pretty sure that’s what he wanted. 

He knew when he leaned forward and kissed your shoulder, that you’d ultimately lose the battle with yourself and your dignity. You were hot, sweaty, and desperate. Desperate enough to give in and sob his name, squeezing your headboard so hard that you felt the wood splinter beneath your hands. 

Without another word, his lips still pressed to your skin, you finally felt the tip of his cock tease your entrance. You held your breath, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn’t drag it out any longer. 

Your wish was granted as he filled you in one long stroke, both of you releasing satisfied moans at the sensation. This... this was bliss. 

“How are you-” Baekhyun ground out through his teeth and squeezed your hips hard enough you’d probably bruise, if you could, “-always this tight? God.” 

His lips trailed across from one shoulder blade to the other, giving your body a moment to adjust to the girth of him, before he began to move. Just like every other time, he pulled sighs and moans from you that only his ears had ever had the privilege of hearing. 

“Oh, my god,” you breathed, your walls clenching around him each time he filled you, his pace making your head spin. 

“How’s it feel, baby?” Baekhyun asked, voice low next to your ear. 

It took a few more thrusts for you to be able to catch your breath to answer him, your head spinning from the way he was fucking you. It didn’t matter how many times you had him, he always made you like this. Crazy, hungry, and weak. 

“Good, so… so good.” 

“That’s right,” Baekhyun answered, one hand drifting from your hip down between your legs to find your clit. “You’re taking me so well. Think you might get to feed a little earlier than normal tonight, baby.” 

You clenched around him once more at his words. Recently, Baekhyun had started making you wait longer and longer to taste him. The last time, you’d been teetering right on the edge of your second orgasm when he finally bared his neck to you.

It wasn’t the worst thing in the world--no, that moment when his blood hit your tongue had sent you towards the most electric, trembling climax you’d ever had. But you had to admit your mouth was watering already at the thought of sinking your teeth into his skin sooner rather than later. 

“Please,” you begged, pushing your ass back towards him. “Please, Baekhyun.”

Baekhyun rolled his fingers around your clit in circular motions, grunting as he thrusted hard, jolting you forward. You gasped and moaned, throwing your head back in ecstasy. 

“You want that, huh? You want me to fuck you while you drink from me?” He matched each stroke of his cock inside of you with the pace of his fingers, drawing tight circles between your legs. 

“Yes,” you answered, voice cracking. You didn’t just want it, you needed it. Your fangs were showing now, and you weren’t even sure at what point they’d finally protruded from your gums, a biological response to the thought that you would be needing them soon. 

Your world spun, briefly, as Baekhyun grabbed your hips and flipped you from your knees onto your back. It was quick, a move he’d pulled on you so many times you barely even noticed until he was pushing back inside of you. 

“Oh, look at you,” he said from above you. 

Now that you could see him, you could appreciate his rosy cheeks, the way his hair stuck to his temples, and the subtle way his shoulder muscles contracted each time he moved inside you. Holding himself up with one arm, he trailed his free hand down the side of your face and brushed his thumb over your lip. 

“You’re ready to feed, aren’t you, baby? So fucking needy. You think you deserve it?” The pad of his thumb slipped inside of your mouth, daring to trace over the shape of one of your fangs. 

All you could do was nod, the ability to actually speak coherent words completely lost on you at the moment. 

You waited, as patiently as you could while he was driving you insane, for Baekhyun to make the first move. You never reached for his arm first, never lunged for his neck or his shoulder, simply because you wanted him to have that control. 

Baekhyun leaned down, his lips trailing kisses from your chin up to your jaw, until he nipped at your earlobe. “Go ahead, pretty. Take what you want.” 

The next time he filled you completely with his cock, you finally sunk your teeth into Baekhyun’s neck, that same spot that you had claimed as your own already. You whimpered as his blood filled your mouth, sliding down your throat. 

You reveled in the way he tasted and the sinful way he inhaled sharply at the initial bite before he let out a long, blissful moan. Your body was on fire now, so consumed in Baekhyun and the way he felt buried this deep inside of your heat. It was like you were invincible. 

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you pulled him into you easily. It was different when you fed from him like this. You had to be careful, control yourself so that you didn’t hurt him too badly, but it tasted so damn good. 

Before you could get carried away, you forced yourself to pull back, licking any remnants of his blood from your lips. Even though you were no longer feeding, you felt the effects of his blood rushing through your body already. 

It was electric and overwhelming in the best possible way, heightened even more so by the way Baekhyun fit inside of you and stretched you so perfectly. The entire room had brightened around you as if somebody had switched on a light. 

When you were finally able to focus on the man above you, you were pleased to find that he looked just as fucked out as you felt. His arms shook, for a moment, maybe from the quick loss of blood or just the sheer pleasure of it all.

Taken by a moment of bravery, you used your legs hooked around his hips to roll your bodies over so that you could settle on top of him and let him rest for a moment. His wound would heal quickly—something to do with the healing properties of your saliva, according to Kyungsoo—but you knew he’d need a beat to regain his strength. 

The moment he filled you completely, you took in a shuddering breath and planted your hands on his chest. Baekhyun stared up at you, eyes filled with awe, lips parted as if he wanted to say something but just couldn’t find the words. 

“Wanna ride you,” you whispered, licking your lips once again. “I want to make you - make you feel good,” you admitted. 

Baekhyun’s hands found your thighs, pale and smooth, and dug his fingertips into your skin. Slowly, those fingertips trailed up to your hips to pull you closer, forcing you into a rocking motion atop of him. 

“Go on, then,” he breathed. “Make me feel good.” 

It occurred to you then that you’d been in this position with him only once before, and it only lasted a couple of minutes before he flipped you onto your back and took over control. This time, though, you wanted to take it until the end. You wanted him to see just a shred of the power you could have over him. 

Maybe you didn’t realize it until now, but you knew Baekhyun’s body just as well as he knew yours. 

You knew when you rolled your hips just right, he’d groan and his eyes would flutter closed as he fought not to thrust himself further inside of you. You knew his hands would start to roam, squeezing and groping at the smooth flesh of your hips and stomach. 

Not until Baekhyun had you learned to appreciate a man’s hands on you without feeling self conscious or try to cover up. Maybe because Baekhyun owed you nothing, there was no reason for him to lie to you or tell you what you wanted to hear. With his hands and his lips, he painted his honest truth on your body without saying a word. 

You started to lose yourself more and more with each roll, each circular grind of your hips on top of him, letting your needy moans fill the room along with his.

“Just like that,” Baekhyun praised, both hands holding firmly onto your waist. “Tell me, who makes you feel this good?”

You pressed your hands more firmly into his stomach and opened your eyes, only a little surprised to find him staring up at you again as if he was trying to drink in every inch of your body. 

Just when you were about to answer, Baekhyun bucked his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside of you—deep enough to make you shiver and lose any and all words that could have gone through your mind. 

“I-” you started, fighting the urge to close your eyes. With the way he was looking at you, you knew that Baekhyun wanted your eyes on him. “Y-you,” you could only whisper. 

“I said,” he said, through his teeth, surprising you as he sat up underneath of you so that your chests were flush together. “Who makes you feel like this?” 

“You, you, you,” you cried, feeling the familiar heat building in your belly and spreading down towards your thighs. “Baekhyun, oh, fuck…” 

“Mmm,” Baekhyun hummed, pleased, pulling you even closer to him. “Such a good girl. You know exactly who you belong to, don’t you? No one else can ever have you like this.” 

Even as far gone as you were, something about his words made you shiver, mind racing with all the ways he could mean those words. You’d accepted that you wanted more from him, more than a late night fuck and feed, but what if he felt the same way?

“No one.” 

Baekhyun pressed the words onto your lips. You clawed at his shoulders, not caring if you marked him, if you left scratches to match the mysterious half-healed slashes across his torso. You wanted him to belong to you, too, if only in one way. 

The kiss sent you closer to your high as your thoughts got the best of you, imagining what your life might be like if you could belong to each other. 

Maybe you could wake up next to him someday, help him with breakfast by frying the bacon while he mixed pancake batter. Or you could fall asleep curled up into his side, hand pressed to his chest, counting his heartbeats. 

“Close,” you whispered. “I’m so close.” 

“Me too, baby. Me too.” Baekyun pulled back first from the kiss, one hand in your hair and the other helping you keep your pace, gripped possessively around your hip.

When you finally tumbled over the edge, you could only speak incoherent mumbles and whispers of pleasure into the crook of his neck as your body bowed forward into him. 

Fireworks exploded behind your vision with your climax, a feeling you should have been used to by now, but you still found yourself practically blacking out every time. It was stronger, more powerful since you became a vampire. Like every cell of your body was exploding and putting itself back together again. 

“I got you, pretty, I’m here,” you heard Baekhyun whisper as he thrust into you from below, fucking you through the intense waves of your orgasm. 

The feeling returned to your fingertips what felt like an hour later, even though it was probably only a minute or two, and you found yourself able to open your eyes. You blinked a few times to let your eyes refocus, taking in the sight of Baekhyun so close to you, so close to his peak. 

“Baekhyun, I can’t-” you gasped, willing your trembling thighs to move so you could resume your movements on top of him. It was no use—you just didn’t have the strength. 

Baekhyun moved quickly, easily flipping your positions so that he was above you once more. He remained on his knees, grabbing one of your pillows to shove under your lower back. From this angle, he could wrap your legs around his waist and grind into you at the perfect angle. 

“Oh, fuck,” you moaned, hands scrambling to clutch the sheets underneath of you. All you could do was watch him, devour him with your eyes the same way you had devoured him with your mouth. 

From the moment you met him, you’d thought he was beautiful. It always struck you as unfair that he appeared to be without flaws, as if you had dreamed him up. He just simply couldn’t be real. And if he was real, it was a miracle he wanted anything to do with you. 

“You’re so fucking tight,” Baekhyun said through gritted teeth. He was losing control, moving closer and closer to the edge with each deep thrust.

Your fingers squeezed and tugged at the sheets beneath your hands, the only thing you had the physical strength left to do. “Please,” you whined. “I wanna feel you come inside me.”

It didn’t take much longer, only a few more perfect rolls of his hips before he came with a loud, shuddering groan. You felt him spill inside of you, liquid heat that felt like it was never ending. This was your favorite part. It was the closest you could ever feel to him, surrounded in every way. 

Once he had come down, Baekhyun fell forward on top of you, catching himself on his forearms. He breathed deep and heavy, face buried between your neck and your shoulder. You found yourself stroking his back, tracing words into his skin that you couldn’t say out loud. 

When he finally rolled off of you, he didn’t go far, just flopped onto his side next to you. Your breath caught in your throat when he pulled you closer, one arm around your back and the other grazing your shoulder. 

Outside the window, you heard the morning birds begin their chirping. It was easier to focus on their melody than just how close Baekhyun was. Close enough to hear his pulse, quick and strong. 

“You okay?” he asked, nose nudging your jaw. “You get enough?” 

You swallowed, suddenly remembering the whole reason Baekhyun had come over in the first place. Because you both had an itch that needed to be scratched—nothing more. 

“Yeah,” you replied weakly. “I got enough.” 

But he didn’t move, just let his lips rest softly against your neck. It had never been like this before. Soft, quiet, sweet. 

“Why do you only let me feed from you?” you found yourself asking, hand on his chest gently pushing him back. “Why me?” 

Baekhyun’s eyebrows pushed together in confusion. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean,” you sighed, sitting up and pushing your hair out of your face. “All your feeding marks are from me. I’m the only one, right?” 

Leaning up onto his elbows, Baekhyun could only shrug as if you’d asked him if he liked sugar in his coffee. “Yeah.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I like you,” Baekhyun offered. As if it was the most obvious answer in the world.

You blinked. Had you heard him wrong? Did he mean it… like that? 

“You like me,” you repeated. 

Baekhyun had the nerve to laugh, just a light, airy chuckle. “That’s what I said. Why am I the only one you feed from?” 

Gulping, you tore your eyes away from him and shook your head. You wanted to deny it—but you both knew it was true. You’d never told him as much, but you wouldn’t be so desperate for him if you could easily get it somewhere else. Correction: you could have, you just didn’t want to.

“Because I like you.” 

When you looked back at Baekhyun, he was grinning, the light catching on the glitter still smeared across his cheeks. He pushed himself to sit up, reaching for your hands. He tugged you closer to him. 

“Yeah? You sure you don’t just like my delicious, mouthwatering blood?” 

You scoffed and shook your head, feeling a smile tug at your lips. “It’s not that delicious.” 

Baekhyun laughed again, and this time you had to join him. It felt like it was too good to be true, him wanting you the way you wanted him. You wanted to pinch yourself, just to make sure you hadn’t blacked out and imagined this whole conversation. 

“Since that’s settled,” Baekhyun said, fingers grazing up your arm, your throat, until he was lifting your chin. You saw his affection for you in his eyes, so obvious it made you wonder if you’d been missing it all along. 

When his lips touched yours, it was a kiss unlike any other you’d shared with him before. Deep and slow, like you had all the time in the world. You sighed into his mouth, letting his lips quiet every worry you had racing through your brain. 

“Stay the night,” you said softly once you parted from him. 

Baekhyun smirked, pressing his forehead into yours. “It’s already morning.” 

You glanced at the window, noting the soft glow of the sunrise behind your curtains. “Oh. Never-”

“I’m kidding,” he cut you off, stroking his fingertips across your cheek. “Only if you promise to cook breakfast for me when we wake up. You do eat, right?”

“Yes,” you said with a laugh. “I eat. I don’t need to, but I love food too much not to.” 

“That’s my girl,” he replied in a low tone, giving you goosebumps. 

In order to keep yourself from jumping his bones, you pulled from him and climbed off the bed, searching for the comforter Baekhyun had thrown off the mattress when you’d first laid down. Once you found it, you settled on top of the sheets with him, pulling the blanket over top of your bodies. 

Your memories from before you turned were a blur. Some things you could remember, but it was like they’d happened to somebody else. You knew you’d had a series of unsatisfying one night stands, a couple of boyfriends, and a handful of crushes. You remembered the face of the man who turned you, but not his name or how it happened. A blessing, Kyungsoo told you. 

And although you couldn’t remember the faces of any of your past lovers, you knew without a doubt in your mind that you would never forget Baekhyun. 

You realized as he brought you into his arms that he didn’t just make you feel human, he made you feel like the girl you’d been before. 

[mmonamona]

Halloween [corpse husband x reader]

synopsis: you spend Halloween with Corpse. based on this request from @slashersdream

a/n: Corpse in a onesie? more likely than you'd think. i really got carried away with this request lmfao

Corpse had always been a connoisseur of all things spooky; it was the reason why Halloween was always something to look forward to. This year, however, it became even more special since it would be your first Halloween together. It wasn’t like you had any extravagant plans, but he was excited nonetheless. When you said you just wanted to watch scary movies and cuddle all night, Corpse had been one hundred percent on board. 

...He just hadn’t pictured himself doing it in a onesie. When you first showed him the purple bunny onesie and insisted that it would be perfect for Halloween, he was reluctant, to say the least, but you smiled so brightly at the idea that he couldn’t bring himself to say no. You, on the other hand, were wearing a black onesie with cat ears. As cheesy as this whole thing was, you just wanted Corpse to have fun. You knew how hard he could be on himself, and you figured his favourite holiday would help him unwind from the stress he had been feeling lately. 

“What are we watching?” you asked, walking back into the living room. Corpse was already sprawled on the couch, huddled under a fluffy blanket with the tv remote in hand. You sat down, putting the bowl of popcorn between the two of you. 

“Uhh.. trying to choose between The Shining and Scream,” he muttered.

“Definitely The Shining.”

“Haven’t you watched that like a million times?” 

“Yeah, but you’ve watched it zero times. So put it on,” you said, reaching into the bowl of popcorn, “for such a horror nerd, I can’t believe you haven’t seen it.”

“I just don’t watch movies, ok?” He chuckled, putting an arm around your shoulder and selecting the movie in question. 

“Well, that's what I’m here for. We’re not getting any sleep tonight until you catch up on all the movies you’ve missed,” you responded, resting your head in his shoulder as the opening credits began. 

The nerve-racking soundtrack would have usually unsettled you quite a bit, but you soon came to realise that with Corpse’s presence, your fear just didn’t feel the same.

It didn’t help that not only did he seem unfazed at every scare, but he also teased you endlessly whenever the action managed to startle you. 

“Stop laughing, asshole!” You half-laughed, half-yelled, hiding your face in his side. As reassuring as being in his proximity may have been, it certainly didn’t make you immune to cheap jump scares. 

“C'mon kitten, it was so obvious that was coming,” he giggled. Sure, the pang of terror you felt every five minutes wasn’t ideal, but the way his face lit up whenever he laughed at your reactions was worth it. 

By the time you were halfway through the second movie, it seemed that both of you were running low on energy. You ended up laid out on the couch, your head on Corpse's lap as he played around with your hair. Not even the shoddy scares of the endless movie marathon could make you react at this point. The movie was mere background noise as you started drifting off, the feeling of Corpse's comforting hands almost lulling you to sleep. 

“Darling,” he said, and your eyes immediately snapped open. Right, you were supposed to stay awake with him; you had countless more movies left on your watchlist. 

“I’m not sleeping,” you answered quickly, but you feared the drowsiness in your voice would betray you. 

Corpse laughed softly, turning your body on its back so he could see your face, “we should go to bed now, it’s getting late.”

“Sleep is for the weak,” you grumbled, a frown on your face.

“Well it’s a good thing you’re weak, then.” he retorted, a playful smirk on his face.

In return you pouted, face scrunched into an equally playful glare, “you’re mean.”

“And you’re practically about to pass out. So let’s go to bed.”

You sighed, but listened nonetheless. You sat up and allowed him to follow suit, “We didn’t even get to watch Carrie.”

“We can watch it another time, kitten,” he whispered, picking up the abandoned popcorn bowl and placing it on the coffee table. You watched him as he lifted the remote and turned the tv off, and suddenly the apartment was plunged into darkness. The resultant gloom made you groan in protest. 

“Corpse.. now we can’t see anything,” You whined, only to be met by silence. Your eyes struggled to adjust to the sudden absence of light, and your boyfriend didn't seem to want to give any signs of life, “...Corpse I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not funny.”

You carefully tried to manoeuvre your way around the living room, still doing your best to hear any movement he made, but he was stealthier than you thought he could be. You knew that his goal was to scare you, and you didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

“Corpse I’m gonna murder you-“ your threat was cut short, however, by the feeling of none other than your boyfriend grabbing you from behind. 

“What the fuck!” You whisper-yelled, doing your best to not wake up the neighbours.

"You're such a scaredy-cat."

"Stop making fun of my onesie," you spoke, rolling your eyes at his pun.

"Purr-haps I will."

“I hate you so much.”

He just dissolved into laughter and gave you a warm back hug, his chest pressing up against your back, “You love me.”

“Yeah, whatever,” you muttered, “It’s still dark though, genius.”

“How do you even get lost in a living room?” He teased, guiding you in a direction you assumed was the bedroom.

“It’s not like I live here.” You retaliated. 

He went quiet for a second, “...maybe you should.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and a wide grin spread across your face, “Wait- deadass?”

He laughed in response, “Yes, deadass.”

You squealed and pulled yourself from his back hug, only to turn around and pull him into another clumsy embrace, “Fuck yeah! If you’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure. I mean you practically sleep over all the time anyway. Just making it official.”

“I love you so much,” you cooed, hugging him as tight as you could muster, before pulling away, “okay, now where’s the bedroom again?”

In one manoeuvre, he leaned forward, opening the door to your bedroom. The moonlight gleaming through the open curtains illuminated the bedroom enough for you to see. 

“Oh. I thought we were further away,” you mumbled as you walked into the bedroom.

“How big do you think my apartment is?”

“I swear it feels bigger in the dark.”

“No, you’re just a dumbass.”

“Meanie,” you muttered, switching the lights on and turning back to look at him, “There’s my Corpsie! I missed your pretty face!” You teased.

He laughed, blushing and shyly looking away, "you're so annoying."

"Well get used to it, because I'm gonna be around all the time from now on," you smiled, grabbing his hands and pulling him towards you. 

His face lit up with a grin as he looked down at you, "you're making me regret asking."

"That's too bad. You're stuck with me now," you quipped.

He leaned down and gave you a small kiss on the forehead, "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Taglist [send an ask to be added!]:

@holosexualunicorn7000 

[sockablock]

The fires dance and shimmer over Vo, but only on the beaches, and not with any fear.

Instead, there is laughter singing through the trees. There is singing, too, warm and bright, the sound of two dozen amateur dancers cheering in the moonlight. 

Somewhere, Yasha is helping a hunter cut logs for the blaze. Somewhere, Jester is telling stories to children about an unknown world. Somewhere, Beau is criticizing a cask of island-wine, and getting very drunk. Somewhere, Veth and Caleb are helping a very old woman fix a watch. 

Fjord straightens up and sticks his poker into the sand, watching the embers go out with a little hiss. He stretches, loosening his neck and wincing when his bruises argue back. He’d gotten thrashed around Vokodo’s cavern pretty hard at the end, there, but most of the firebloom burns are gone now, and between two clerics and a vengeful druid, he doesn’t have much to complain about.

He glances around the beach and can smell the first sizzle of cooking meat. Something fruity hovers past, and he can hear Beau’s singing growing louder.

And then, he notices something else, in the corner of his vision. Past the celebration, farther down the shore, sitting on the sand with his knees against his chest—

It’s Caduceus. His outline is purple in the twilight.

Fjord considers the fire. The music, and then he leaves the poker to finish smoldering by itself. 

By the time he’s nearly reached Caduceus, the merriment of the bonfire is barely a hum amid the turning tides. Light carries farther, though, and here it reflects an orange sea across the starry waves. It would be beautiful, it is beautiful, although it reminds Fjord a little too much of their last fight. He ignores it, instead focusing on the seated shape in front of him.

“Caduceus, you’re going to miss the food at this rate."

There is no immediate answer. Fjord stops, and raises his brow. 

"Caduceus? Oh, shit, is this a vegetarian thing? We should’ve said something earli...er...”

In this light, his friend is mostly shadow, but for a second it almost looks as if Caduceus raises an arm, wipes his face...

Fjord stops. He dares himself to have seen it wrong, and blinks.

"...Caduceus?!” This time, he is shouting. “Cad, is...everything alright?!”

It could be the waves, but for a second, a sniffle, and then—

“Oh, Mister Fjord, I didn’t hear you c—”

“Are you crying?”

Fjord clears the distance in a second, scattering sand everywhere. A part of him instantly curses the decision, why in the world would you rush at him—but another part, the honest part, the deeply confused part, is too worried to do anything else.

But Caduceus...laughs. It’s more stilted than it should be, though then again, Cad’s always been a weird one, in a special way—

Until Fjord sees the tears. There are two streaks of dampness matting Cad’s fur.

“Oh,” he says, before he can stop himself. 

There is a flash in Caduceus’s eyes. It is so small, so brief, so hidden away, that if Fjord had not been staring at him, he would have missed it entirely.

It’s panic. Caduceus says, “No, don’t mind me, Mister Fjord, I think I might’ve gotten carried away.”

Fjord’s mouth opens. It closes. It opens again.

“Carried away?”

“Just a bit.”

Fjord manages to stop gawking on the third try. He drops down, wincing a little at the sharp movement but ending in a determined, eye-level squat.

“Carried away,” he repeats.

Caduceus does not meet his gaze. His voice, when it finally does comes, is more unsteady than Fjord has ever heard.

“I, ah, I think...today was just a lot. It was...there was a lot.”

“Yes, well...yeah,” Fjord says, and tries to shuffle his back into Cad’s face. More sand kicks up around his ankles. “We did fight a fake fire god and nearly set off a volcano. Then again, that sort of thing feels somewhat standard for us.”

Caduceus coughs, and only after a second does Fjord realize it’s a laugh. 

“We, we do certainly get into all sorts of trouble.”

“Right,” says Fjord, still slightly mystified. He glances around the beach, sees Caduceus still avoiding him, hears the raucous melody of cheering far behind.

He looks up. He looks down. Then:

“...can I sit?”

There’s a vague gesture in response. Fjord accepts this as an answer.

The sand is cool. The wind sweeps across his hair.

“I’m...not very...I think I might have a reputation for being somewhat unobservant,” he says, after a pause. “Sometimes. But...I don’t think I’m a fool, Caduceus. Though even a fool could see that you’re upset.”

“I’m n—”

“I’m not done.” He looks up. Far, far above them, the stars glimmer bright. “I think...I think...that although I wasn’t there to see it initially, I believe that ever since you came to join our little troupe, your presence has been very good for us. I worry that...maybe, we haven’t returned the favor.”

“Favor?” Caduceus chuckles. “There’s no favor to return.”

There is a weight to Fjord’s silence.

“Hm. I wonder about that.”

Caduceus feels his brow furrow. He tries to stop it, but it does.

“Mister Fjord,” he says softly, “I don’t expect anything from you.”

“Right,” Fjord nods. “In that case...it’s a failing on our part.”

The waves ebb and flow on the shore. They are far away enough not to fear getting wet, but close enough still to taste the salt breeze.

“Why are you upset?” Fjord murmurs. “Is it...was it the fight? Are you hurt, or—”

“Oh, no. Not me.”

He glances over.

“Then...?”

Caduceus stares at the ground. His boots are off, and little grains of sand cling to his armor.

“Do you...ever feel...frustrated, Fjord?”

“Hah! Is that really your question?”

When the pause carries on, Fjord clears his throat.

“Er...yes, Caduceus. I do.”

“What about guilty? Very guilty.”

“Uh...sure, I think so. Maybe not...I’m not so sure to what degree you’re talking, here, but I’ve definitely had regrets.”

“And...what about feeling like you’re a burden?”

Fjord leans back on his palms. “Caduceus, are we just going down the list of how I go about my day?”

“No,” and when Caduceus chuckles, Fjord can see a little gleam of moonlight against his fur. “I’m, ah, I’m going down mine.”

“Oh.”

“It’s...it was bad on this island. It was...I felt those things...a lot. And, well,” he gives another laugh, “well, it sort of came to a head down in that tunnel.”

Fjord considers this.

“The...”

“The underwater one,” Caduceus says. “When the...the fireblooms opened all around us and I...lost to Vokodo.”

Fjord blinks. “You mean...oh, well...plenty of us had fallen to him at that point, didn’t we? I mean, Yasha forgot the name of her wife and Jester lost her beard oil, er, my beard oil, and I forgot Vandren, and...” 

He trails off, when he sees Cad look up.

“Right,” says Caduceus, “I forgot things too. But...I did something worse. I hurt you.”

Fjord hesitates. “You...didn’t really—”

“I did,” says Caduceus. “I fought against you. I blinded you. And you spent all your spells on me, and when the fight started, you couldn’t defend yourself, and got even more injured.”

“Well,” says Fjord, with as much certainty as he can muster, “I don’t know if...three spells would’ve really changed much.” Then he pauses again, and adds, “Not, uh, not that the gifts of the Wildmother are anything to scoff at. You know.”

Behind them, smoke pours up into the sky. They can’t smell it from here, but the feast is beginning, all joining in together to celebrate, save for two.

“They aren’t,” Caduceus says slowly, “but...do you want to know something, Fjord?”

“Er...of course.”

He also leans back. Also takes a second to breathe deep by the sea.

“In that moment, when I...fell to Vokodo. It was...exhilarating. It...it felt...it felt like...well,” he murmurs a laugh. “It felt like, for a second I had a purpose again.”

Foam dissolves into the sand. Far, far away, a hermit crab surfaces.

“A...purpose?”

“A mission. A goal, a journey, a...a divine reassurance that I was on the right path. It’s something that I...haven’t had since I saw my family.”

“You...wait, really? Why?”

“Well,” Caduceus gives a shrug. “Well, I suppose it’s because I did fulfill that purpose. We got the green glass. We visited the Dusts, and then the Stones, and my family went home to save the Grove. That was all I dreamed about, all that I knew I had to accomplish for...for decades. And we...did it. I did it. And now...it’s over.”

He takes a deep breath.

“And now...I’m just here. I have faith that she’s guiding me to where I need to go, but...where? Why? And...sometimes, even that is...even that feels...”

Fjord turns, and sees Caduceus staring at him. His hair is a tangle tripping down his back. His eyes are hesitant, shining in the moonlight.

“Sometimes...when I am with you all,” he says quietly, “sometimes I just feel...free.”

The waves come and go. The tiny hermit crab faces down an endless, churning, ever-flowing sea.

“She likes freedom, doesn’t she?” Fjord murmurs. “Isn’t that...I mean...that’s what she’s meant to me.”

Caduceus smiles. It’s a half-risen thing. “She meant duty to the Clays. A legacy to fulfill. A home to tend to, a garden to grow, people and family to take care of.”

Fjord meets his gaze. “Is that what you want?”

Caduceus doesn’t answer right away. When he does:

“...I don’t know anymore. Sometimes...I think I want to tend to our friends. Take care of them. Help you all grow to where you can be.”

“You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“Oh, don’t I know it.”

They are quiet for a moment. Then:

“What about other times?” Fjord murmurs. “What about then?”

Caduceus glances up. He takes in the thousands of stars above him, watches a thousand lights fade and glow.

“It can be scary to not have a purpose.”

“I managed. I managed for...oof, maybe thirty years?”

“Did you like it?” 

Fjord shrugs. “I didn’t know anything else. Then, for a while, I thought my purpose was to fill a role. Be a captain. Become powerful. But...I didn’t much like that.”

“No,” Caduceus chuckles. “I didn’t think you did.”

“In a way, though,” Fjord sighs, “I mean...I don’t really know if I have a purpose either. Most of the time...I’m just here. I’m just...doing my thing. As a member of the Mighty Nein. I’m helping our friends as much as I can, and I’m getting to see the world. And learn new things. And...in doing so, I...well, I think maybe I’ve been more free than I ever had been. Maybe that’s a purpose. Even if it doesn’t feel like, I dunno, divine providence, or whatever, I’m...I’m still happy doing it. I love our friends. I think that’s enough.”

“Yes,” Caduceus says quietly. “I...I’m happy with them too.”

“Well, there you go, then!” Fjord taps him on the arm. “Maybe that’s all you really need. And I’m sorry it doesn’t feel...feel like a godly mission, but it still should be worth hanging onto, no?”

When he glances back, Caduceus is still looking at him.

“Right,” he echoes. “I think it is.”

Maybe it’s the beach, or the heat from the bonfire, but Fjord can feel his face getting a little warm. He coughs.

“I hope, er, that helped. I don’t know if that’s...good advice, to turn other people into your purpose. Because now that I think about it, it does still sort of sound like that whole garden-tending thing, which is a little contradictory—”

“Fjord?”

“Um, yes?”

“It helped.”

“Oh, good.”

“Fjord?”

“...um. Yes?”

Caduceus’s eyes are turned to the sky.

“I want to be free, too. But...I would like to be free with everyone else. And with you.”

Fjord coughs again. Though it isn’t as sharp. And the warmness is nice.

“I’d like that too.”

They sit there on the beach for a while after that. Later, perhaps, their friends will realize that they are missing, and come calling for them. Later, perhaps, there will be food to share and island-wine to drink and songs to sing. Later, they will sleep in huts beneath the stars and even after that, much, much later, perhaps there will even be a new path, a new journey, a new mission to follow and a new purpose to chase.

But all that will happen later. For now, all there is, is the sound of the waves, the brush of wind, and freedom, together.

— — —

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[tippedbykreider]

i can’t pretend | m. zibanejad

Word Count: 1,750 words Warnings: Vague hint of jealousy, mentions of alcohol Summary: There comes a time where feelings must be confronted and you can’t pretend like you’re anything other than how you feel in your heart. Mika Zibanejad x Reader Author’s Note: Fic title is from Don’t Let Go by En Vogue but I was very much inspired by the Lusaint cover <3

*

Life is full of disappointments, despite all of our best intentions and no matter what we do to try and shield ourselves from them, sooner or later they will come knocking. You’d experienced disappointment before, of course you had, but none of them compared to the violent wrenching you felt in your stomach at the sight before you right now.

The loud music all around you faded into nothing and all you could focus on was the loud whoosh of your heart thundering in your ears, like a train passing at speed. Your eyes had suddenly found the vodka and coke you were holding very interesting and whatever conversation you’d been having with Chris and Pavel was quickly forgotten and while Pavel was still trying to work out exactly why your words had died on your tongue, Chris was surveying you with a worried expression and his hand was heavy on your knee.

Chris’s eyes had seen the same thing you had and he was perceptive enough to notice the way your face had fallen when Mika had walked into the bar with someone else, saw the way your shoulders sagged with the exhale of your breath and saw the sparkle that’d been in your eyes dull and diminish into nothing. He leaned in as he flexed his fingers on your leg reassuringly, voice low but still audible above the thumping bass.

“I had no idea he was bringing anybody, I swear.”

You shrugged nonchalantly at that, despite the ache in your chest and despite the tears that had suddenly begun to burn behind your lashes. “Mika can come out with whoever he wants.”

“Not when he was the one who invited you,” Chris countered, tone a little firmer this time but you knew him well enough by now to know that his annoyance wasn’t directed towards you. “What the hell is he playing at? Making such a big deal about you coming out with us tonight and then turning up with her.”

“It’s not a big deal, Chris. Can we just… can we just drop it? Please?”

Chris narrowed his eyes at you slightly, knowing you well enough to know that even you didn’t really believe the words that came out of your mouth but he was cognizant enough to know not to push and so he lifted his hands up in front of him, a wordless acceptance of what you were asking, before reluctantly going back to his Guinness.

You, on the other hand and despite yourself, couldn’t tear your eyes away from how the girl Mika had brought was draping herself all over him and how Mika seemed to like it. You weren’t entirely sure just how long you’d been staring and you were certain that the others would have started to notice how your eyes hadn’t moved at all since Mika had walked through that door; but even though it felt like someone was twisting a knife further into your gut with every second that passed, you couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere else.

It shouldn’t have surprised you really, that Mika wasn’t interested, that he didn’t see you in that way because when you looked at the woman with her arms draped around his neck and with her legs that seemed to go on for days, you realised that you were nothing alike and if that was his type then it was no wonder that he didn’t see you as anything more than his friend. You’d known Mika for the best part of four years now and while you were sure that there was more to the way he’d touch you and there was more to the softness in his eyes whenever he looked at you, you realised then that those touches and looks weren’t anything special, even if they felt that way to you.

It was the sight of his lips ghosting the shell of her ear that had you setting your glass down onto the table forcefully and reaching for your coat. He hadn’t even made it to the table yet but you knew that there was no way you were making it through the night without losing it and there was no sense in making things awkward for everybody else too. Better to leave now and lick your wounds in the privacy and solace of your apartment than be the subject of the quiet sympathetic looks you were sure would be sent your way.

“Wait, are you going?” Chris asked, the concern evident in his voice. “You just got here.”

“Headache,” you replied, your voice rough in your attempt to keep a lid on the emotions bubbling up from your chest to your throat.

“I’ll walk you home-”

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” you snapped, immediately regretting the hostility with which you replied upon seeing a momentary hurt flash across Chris’s face. “I mean, I’m okay, thanks. I-I can get home myself. Thanks for the offer though.”

You knew that Chris didn’t like that idea and you knew that he was just doing what a good friend should, but if you let him walk you home that would only give him an opportunity to talk about you and Mika and your feelings and you certainly didn’t want that, especially not now. Chris seemed to get the message because he simply nodded, albeit reluctantly. You picked up your purse and slipped out of the bar into the cool New York night without another word spoken to anyone.

Being as oblivious and wrapped up as he was, Mika hadn’t noticed you leave and so the confusion in his expression was evident when he approached the table and his eyes didn’t immediately find yours like they usually would. He went to speak but Chris cut him off curtly, eyes burning and jaw set.

“She went home.”

“Why?”

Chris gave Mika a pointed look and glanced quickly at the woman hanging from his arm before his stony stare found Mika’s eyes once more. “Headache,” he replied with a sharpness that Mika didn’t miss but took a couple of beats to catch up to everything that Chris wasn’t exactly saying.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Chris replied from behind his glass. “Maybe you should go check up on her? Make sure she’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Mika said quietly. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Within five minutes Mika had given his apologies to Sarah, or Jess, or whatever her name was and was sprinting through the streets of Manhattan towards your apartment. It’s funny how things only become clear when they suddenly start to slip through your fingers and Mika knew that this was one of those moments. He cursed himself for not seeing it sooner, for not seeing that you were right there in front of him, waiting on him to catch up and finally acknowledge just what sat between the two of you. It was the way his skin sparked whenever he touched you, it was the way his heart fluttered whenever you smiled or laughed, it was the way you understood just how crazy his life was and it was the way you understood the pressures he felt and the weight and expectation he carried on his shoulders. It was all of those things and more and Mika knew that if he really allowed himself to think about it, those were things that had been there since day one. He could only hope that he hadn’t thrown it all away in his complete ignorance.

He’d climbed the stairs to your apartment a hundred times before but the three flights had never felt as towering as they did right now. Perhaps it was the fact that he’d run the ten or so blocks to your place or perhaps it was the overwhelming fear that he’d thrown away the best thing he could’ve had, but either way Mika was sure that his heart was about to burst right out of his chest as he knocked urgently at your door.

His stomach dropped through the floor at the sight of your tear streaked face as you opened the door to him and he was ready to list every single reason why he was an idiot and tell you just how sorry he was but he was cut off and knocked back by the rawness in your voice.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you,” Mika rushed out, hoping beyond hope that you’d hear him out and not slam the door in his face.

“There’s nothing to say, Mika,” you replied in the best strong voice you could muster, not wanting to fall apart in front of him.

“Please-”

“I’m sure your girlfriend is missing you.” Your expression is stony as you look at him and your arms are folded tightly across your chest and nothing at all like the frantic look in Mika’s eye and the way he’s tearing his hands through his hair.

“She’s not my-”

“You know what, Mika?” you interrupt, deciding that you’re not in the mood to listen to whatever excuse was going to come out of his mouth. “You don’t owe me anything. You can go out with whoever the hell you want, but don’t bring me into it. Maybe it was my own fault for thinking that there might have been something more between us and that you wanted to be more than friends and I’m sorry about that but I can’t pretend, Mika. I can’t pretend that I don’t feel what I feel, okay? I’m miserable when you’re not around. I think about you more than I should. Fuck, I thought we were on the same page, I thought that maybe there was something different in the way that you looked at me and the way that you talked to me but I guess I was wr-”

The words coming out of your mouth died in the air as Mika’s hands cupped your face and his lips crashed into your own.

“Stop talking,” he breathed between kisses as his body pressed against yours and guided you back into your apartment, his foot kicking the door shut behind him as you went. “Just stop talking for one second.”

You knew that you needed to pull away, knew that you needed to stop this and for you both to use your words to work through this, but your heart betrayed your brain and your hands found themselves winding their way into his hair while you kissed him back with everything you had. 

[saffron-nova21]

Whipped Cream: Iwaizumi's Bonus Scene

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Warnings: Reader is a little flirty, Iwa-chan busts his lip, Kuroo is conniving, Strong language

Everyone had finished their meals about five minutes prior, now just working on finishing your drinks before the checks were brought out. And in this time, Kuroo had managed to get under your skin, as he was so well adept in. At this point, it was a game to him, to see how quickly he could get you to retaliate. He never went too far, mainly just making statements that he knew you would fight him on.

Laughter bubbles from Kuroo's lips as his eyes scan over you. "In what world? You might have played volleyball in high school, but you haven't lifted anything heavier than a couch cushion, since."

His words held some truth, though not as much as he thought. Though you weren't a health nut and you were out of practice, some of your closest friends were Bokuto, and by extension Hinata. You had been pretty adaptable with positions, in high school. Your brother was the Captain, your ex-boyfriend a middle blocker, and your former best friend a setter. Practicing with each of them, throughout your life had made you pretty talented.

In high school you'd had the opportunity to go to multiple of Japan's sponsored training camps. You'd never gone, but that was only because you had too much going on at home, at the time. You'd also been looked at by multiple universities for scholarships. At the end of the day, though, you chose the same path as your best friend.

You could still spike a volleyball with the best of them, if you did say so yourself. So, with narrowed, challenging eyes, you speak up. "You really think so? I hardly go outside and I'd still win a practice run against you, Tetsu."

Kenma shrugs, briefly looking up from his phone to eye you both, "I believe it. After all, Bokuto does drag them off to help he and Hinata practice a lot."

As his eyes travel back to his phone, you look from him back towards Kuroo. "Exactly, so suck my dick."

Kuroo, though, only seemed to grin. And his grin was one you were all too familiar with: he knew something you didn't.

"Great. So then you'll really be an asset to the volleyball team, being so skilled and all?"

Iwaizumi looks towards you with raised eyebrows, "You played in high school?"

"That's the only part of that conversation you decide to comment on?" Kuroo rolls his eyes, placing his head against his fist, his elbow resting on the table.

Holding up your right hand to Kuroo, you flash him the sweetest smile you can possibly muster, before raising your middle finger to flip him off. Though as you do, his hand shoots out to catch yours, a smirk stretching over his features as he catches your hand before you can withdraw it. "You asshole." You hiss as you try to pull your hand back, mistakenly pushing your body into Iwaizumi. Kuroo, however, just holds his grip on your wrist, until you end up attempting to put all of your weight into jerking your hand back. That's when he finally decided to let go, allowing your body to jerk into Iwaizumi's.

Iwaizumi, who'd been sipping on his hot chocolate, tried to prepare for things, though he wasn't as prepared as he might've wished as the mug hit his lower lip, not only busting it, but also smearing whipped cream along his top lip and nose. With a glare directed towards you, he attempted to reach across you for the napkins, but you beat him to it, "Thanks, Kuroo, my boss hates me now."

You then turn towards Iwaizumi with a hand full of napkins, grabbing his jaw to turn his head towards you so you could help him. But holy shit, how had you not noticed that jawline beforehand? Bringing your hand up, you begin to wipe the whipped cream from his face, while Kuroo flags someone down, between his cackles, to get some ice for them.

"You certainly cause a lot of trouble, don't you?" Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, trying to draw attention away from the fact that his cheeks had a slow-growing blush dusting them. "We split them up to prevent disaster, but you seem to be the source of most of it."

You turn up your nose, "And to think that I thought you were hot -"

"If anything, you find him hotter now. You've always had a thing for douchebags." Kenma flashes you a smirk, before returning his eyes to his phone.

You let out a quiet huff, face warming in embarrassment, "Kenma, I don't wanna hear it from you. You're just jealous because I'm paying more attention to Iwa, here." Sticking your tongue out at him, you pull the napkins away from his face, placing them on your empty plate. "There you go." Bringing your hand to his cheek, you pat it with amusement flitting across your features.

Iwaizumi only rolls his eyes at you, "You remind me a little too much of a friend of mine."

Everyone looks over as a waitress comes over with a few ice cubes in a cup, Iwaizumi thanking her as he takes the cup, before plucking an ice cube from it and wrapping it in a paper towel to place against his slightly-swollen lip.

"Speaking of your friends," the way your tone changes makes both Kenma and Kuroo collectively roll their eyes, knowing exactly what - or rather, who you're going to bring up. Though, you ignore them to continue your conversation with Iwaizumi, "You know Oikawa, right? Like personally?" A frown crosses his face as he raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue. "I don't want anything. I'm not going to ask for his number, or some shit. I've got Bokuto and Hinata wrapped around my finger, if I'm looking for a volleyball player."

"Y/N, you can't just say things like that." Kuroo brings a hand up to massage his temple.

The Athletic Trainer blinks, "So, what are you asking for?"

Looking back up at him, you tilt your head, "Nothing, I just wanted to see if Kuroo was telling the truth. I can't even lie, though, I use to watch Seijoh's games, to see his service ace. It was fucking killer. Hell, he was the reason I taught myself how to do it. And I do pride myself on my jump-serves. I use to be able to do jump-floats, as well, but that's a little iffy, now, I'm not going to lie.

"Now that I think about it, Seijoh had some cute players. Especially when I was in... My second year of high-school, there was this number four. God, he was fucking amazing. I loved watching him play. Plus those biceps were to -... Kuroo, shut up, your laughter makes it so hard to concentrate." You stop to look at Kuroo, who is doubling over in laughter, while Kenma shakes his head at your misfortune.

"Y/N, do you know what team Iwaizumi used to play for?" Kenma looks at you with a ghost of a smile.

From there, you can piece things together, cringing a bit as you look back at Iwaizumi, "Would you believe me if I said that I meant... Number... Sixteen..?"

Iwaizumi lets an amused smirk grace his lips as he looks at you, "That's cute. Good to know that you actually have some taste. I nearly lost faith with your adoration for Loserkawa." He brings his mug back to his lips, fingers grasping your wrist so he can tug your hand away from where it was holding ice on his lip, proceeding to finish off what was left in his mug, obviously getting ready to leave.

You didn't respond, instead looking at his upper lip, where whipped cream rested. You were so used to the comfort you had between you and your close friends, like Kenma and Kuroo, that you didn't hesitate to just reach out and wipe the excess away, Reaching out, you place your fingers on his cheek to steady your hand, while your thumb swipes across his upper lip, movements fleeting, before you withdraw your hand. It isn't until you're wiping your thumb on the napkins that you realize what you did, face and neck warming in embarrassment. Though, you weren't the only one, as the porcupine-haired man brought a hand up to attempt to hid his flushed cheeks.

"I've got to... Uh- Get the boys some stretches for their day off. See you on Monday," he excuses himself to stand, retrieving his ticket so he'd be able to pay at the front of the restaurant.

"See you on Monday, Iwa," your cooed words make Iwaizumi flush a bit darker, mumbling something under his breath before bidding you all goodbye as he attempts to rush out, in embarrassment.

With a sheepish look directed towards Kuroo and Kenma, the two watch you in amusement. "Whoops," you rub the back of your neck with a sheepish grin crossing your lips.

Iwaizumi was friends with Oikawa for years, so while he did get use to some of the near flirty teasing from his best friend and learn how to counteract it, sometimes his is caught off guard.

You found out about Oikawa and Seijoh's team, after seeing him in a magazine. (And yes, you do see more about this, later.)

You also rooted for them to make it to Nationals so that you could plays against them.

I'm really sorry guys, the past few days have been chaos, but there will be two more parts coming your way to make up for it, tonight and tomorrow. I hope you're all doing well. You all most definitely better be taking care of yourselves. I'm rooting for you and I'm proud of you. Remember to eat and drink some water, and get some rest. You deserve it.

General Taglist:

@kookie-doughs @halesandy @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @its-the-aerieljeane @onlyonew @kac-chowsballs @saltylettuce @thathoneybee3 @daninaninani @akkeyomi @vintagexparker

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@bnha-meme-sanctuary @nachotrash @haijkk @maadaaaa @prettyinblack231 @sakusasimpbot @kellesvt @bebetiny @ash-levi @calumsfringe @z3ld4 @erinoikawa @bandaged-despair @chaseyui @atria-avior @just-that-bi-girl @magical-fandoms @one-simp-more

[theflashdriver]

Too Late

A mysterious visitor draws Blaze to the docks, having made his presence known through Marine and requested conversation with her. His reasons for this, who he is and why he's even here are all unknowns. Despite this rudeness, the ruler of the Sol dimension can't help but feel a bizarre tension in the air. Written for sonamysilvazeweek 2021, using the bonus prompt of hurt/comfort!

This one is more intended to be pure angst than romance but it is very soft, I hope folks enjoy!

---

These past two days had brought a bizarre tension that Blaze knew the origin of but not how to confront. Yesterday morning, a little before noon, Marine had burst into a royal meeting with all the disruptive force that she could muster. The now adult raccoon, stood in front of ministers and community stakeholders, had freely and willingly babbled about a weird old wizard who had offered to help with her ships if he could meet with the princess. Naturally, due to a combination of the shipwright’s tone and chosen way of relaying this information, Blaze had rather exploded at her, insisting that she leave and that this so-called wizard should make an appointment. When the girl had tried to stand her ground, she’d been asked if this person was a threat. With a grumble of no, knowing she was beat, the raccoon had made her way through the halls but out the castle entirely.

That was, until eight o’clock this morning. The young raccoon had barraged her way into the royal bedchambers, claiming that the same old wizard had successfully pulled eight of her crashed ships from the ocean and aided in their repair by merely waving his hand. She said that he was some kind of psychic sent from the other dimension and that, despite how weird and old he was, he apparently knew Cream, Sonic, Tails and the others. All those things had piqued Blaze’s interest, of course they had, but none of them propagated her curiosity quite like Marine claiming he’d sat on the dock ever since he’d arrived. He hadn’t eaten or even slept; he’d simply sat waiting for the princess.

Unfortunately, just like the day before, today had been filled to burst with work. Gardon had passed away three months ago and, although the monarch was now mature, the burden of that loss was still weighing heavily on her. No longer having that confidante, that source of sage advice, was finally beginning to wear her down. Hours were spent dealing with fussy landowners and handling minor issues, with both sets of Eggman long gone too, the guardian part of her role had been regulated to a mere title. It’d taken until now, approaching night on this summer day, for her to find the time and leave the castle.

The evening was humid, even by the docks, but that wasn’t too abnormal for this time of year. A dark sky hung overhead; grey clouds formed a barrier that barely allowed the pink of the sunset to pierce through. She was dressed in her usual working garb, her purple coat and white tights, but she wasn’t entirely sure if this was work. Marine’s descriptions of this man had been sparse to say the least- apparently, he was old, would glow with a strange cyan light and looked rather homeless. Blaze wasn’t even certain that her aid was needed in the Chaos dimension and so she hadn’t brought the Sol emeralds; according to Marine, he was just here to meet with the princess.

Blaze quickly found herself at the stout dock that Marine tended to work off of. Sure enough, no fewer than eight vessels that she could scarcely recognise were happily floating along either side of the wooden boardwalk. None of them held her attention for long though, despite how ludicrous and intricate their designs were. No, Blaze’s eyes quickly fell upon a cloaked figure sitting at the very end of the dock.

Her attention was immediately captured by a set of seven quills, the formation of which she’d never seen on a hedgehog before. They were long overgrown and, though she could tell five ascended from his forehead while two stretched from the back of his head, they’d all began to matt into one continuous mass of grey fur. The cloak Marine had described was actually a garb formed from brown burlap, heavily stitched in places and acting as some strange poncho with long and billowing sleeves. Strangely, his right sleeve hung loosely at his side while his left reached up to cradle his head.

“Hello there? Are you the one who’s been waiting for me?” She called out, trying to get his attention.

“Oh, hello,” A croaking voice half-hummed from the form, he didn’t so much as turn back, “It’s a shame you didn’t come yesterday, the sunset was wonderful.”

Feeling a little slighted by the hedgehog’s cheekiness, Blaze responded in kind, “Well, I’m sorry but my role finds me rather busy.”

“Oh, no, there’s nothing to be sorry about. I think I can make this work,” Once those words sounded, the hedgehog’s back straightened and his hand left his chin.

She watched from behind as he pointed to the sky and, though she wasn’t sure what to expect, she couldn’t have anticipated what would happen next. The once grey shroud that had blocked the sun was suddenly tinted cotton-candy blue. She watched as his fingers curled into a fist and the cloud mass seemed to convulse, almost gathering at a single point, before he flicked his wrist and spread his fingers. The clouds parted into a wide circle that breached the horizon and, as it did, his hand was made fully visible. A cyan circle shone on the back of his palm; by the tears on his worn glove, she could tell that it was part of his hand.

“Oh, today’s even prettier, is that normal for this world?” It was only then that the form turned for face her, not rising and bowing like most of her subjects would but simply glancing over his shoulder with a soft smile on his face.

Behind him, the sun couldn’t be more than an inch away from the ocean’s surface and the sky was the most glorious shade of pastel pink… but that couldn’t hold the feline’s attention. Her eyes locked on the hedgehog’s face, the face of an old and tired man. Sunburn marred his muzzle, giving him a rough appearance despite his smile. Plumes of white fur breached his garb’s neck-hole, wrinkles covered his face and there was an age in his eyes that spoke volumes to the feline. Marine hadn’t been inaccurate to call him a wizard, what he���d just done was ludicrous and he surely looked the part, but something in those bright yellow eyes called to Blaze in a bizarre way.

Stumped, finding herself unable to answer, Blaze managed another step forward before catching herself, “What on earth did you just do?”

“Oh, I just pushed the clouds away,” He said, so very nonchalantly, as he turned back to the sky, “Don’t you think it’s pretty?

“It’s certainly prettier than it was,” She conceded through clenched teeth, daring to take another step closer. Though he didn’t seem threatening, this bizarre figure had just split the sky with no more than a wave of his hand, “Marine was insistent that I come down here as soon as possible, was there a reason for that?”

“What? Oh, I’m sorry, no. I would have happily waited for a few weeks at least,.I heard that you’re very busy,” He patted the spot on the docks next to him, smiling back at her again, “I just wanted to talk with you a little, after that I’ll be on my way.”

Under normal circumstances, Blaze would have turned tail there and then. If he was just here to talk and willing to wait then he could book an appointment like all the rest; but these weren’t normal circumstances. He’d parted the sky, brought ships back from the depths and... well, something bizarre was buzzing in Blaze’s head. As she looked upon his form, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu; she’d never seen this old man in her life and yet he looked so familiar. The term anemoia came to mind but she was struggling to recall its meaning. Without even really thinking, she found herself stepping closer still to the grey figure- soon she was standing by his side.

It was as he turned back to the sunset, releasing a sigh of contentment, that Blaze truly understood what she was looking at. When Marine said he’d raised and repaired her ships with one hand, Blaze hadn’t thought that he lacked the other. His right arm had been reduced to a stump, bound at its end, but that wasn’t where the damage ended. Only his right leg poked free from his garb to hang over the edge, this figure had seen far more than his share of adversity. Even the smiling form of his muzzle seemed slightly battered and, even over the scent of sea air, the stench he carried was that of brimstone and sweat decades aged.

“And what is it that you want to talk about?” Blaze, rather bluntly, managed to ask.

“Well, um,” He tugged at his chest fur, “I have a couple of questions to ask, but I’m sure you’ll have some for me too. How about we take turns asking things? I asked one then you get to.”

Today just kept growing more bizarre, he hadn’t come to ask her anything, he’d come to play a game of twenty questions. Even with Marine, even with Sonic or Amy or any of the others, if they tried to confront her like this then she’d ask them to simply cut to the chase. But as she stood above him, a question did find purchase in her mind. He apparently knew the others, that meant he was probably from their dimension, so why hadn’t they bumped into each other? He was an older hedgehog, was he related to Sonic? She didn’t think so, but it was so bizarre- it was like she knew where he came from, it was almost on the tip of her tongue. Even his name, it was as though she was so sure of it but couldn’t verbalise it no matter how she tried.

With a heavy sigh, not masked in the way she’d try to hide such normalities during her royal meetings, Blaze dropped down to sit beside the grey figure, “Fine, ask away.”

“What, really? O-Okay,” He seemed just as surprised as she was about her willingness to go along with this, “I’m, well, I think I’m eighty-two now. How old are you?”

Blaze blinked; this absolute stranger had just asked the princess her age in such a blunt manner. His lack of tact was frankly astounding but Blaze wasn’t off put. If anything, there was something strangely homely in how casually he’d asked, “I’m twenty-eight now, going on twenty-nine.”

“Oh wow, it’s like we’re opposites,” He immediately seemed to notice, smiling even more warmly than he had before, “Your turn then.”

A couple of ideas floated in her head, questions that felt strangely pointless to ask despite her not knowing the answers. Eventually, she managed to settle on one.

“Marine said you knew those in the other dimension,” She posited, “Do you come from there? I’ve been over a few times now and I don’t think I’ve ever…” For whatever reason, another surge of déjà vu forced her to hesitate, “Seen you.”

“Oh, yes, right. I don’t think you would have, no,” He seemed to stumble over a collection of thoughts, “I’m from there but not from then, you see. I’m from their dimension but a very different time. Two-hundred years in their future, I was born. The time I came from though, that’s long gone, overwritten by my travels,” The old man said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “It was a bad place to live to be honest, overrun by monsters long before I was born. It took a lot but, after almost a hundred years of work, it’s finally all sorted out. I kept going back to the past and preventing disasters, now there’s nothing left to prevent,” And she found herself listening, as if it was the most regular of answers, “I guess I kind of come from nowhere now though, it’s nice there but it’s not exactly home. I’m just drifting now really…”

“Right…” The princess mumbled, trying to take that all in and finding it surprisingly easy.

Up until now things had been weird but now things were surpassing the point of strangeness. Looking past the other oddities this figure presented, for her to hear what she had just heard and feel as though that was both truthful and normal was the most bizarre sensation Blaze had ever experienced. Perhaps it was because she was used to introducing herself as a princess of another dimension but the fact she was so unphased by his words was thoroughly phasing her.

Before she could dwell on it too much, he was smiling at her again, “I’m wondering, the others mentioned that you were a pyrokinetic, would you mind showing me…?”

Again, without much thought, Blaze found this usually questionable proposal agreeable. She raised her right hand between them and, with no more than the click of her fingers, the top of her forefinger was set alight. Almost immediately he moved in closer, his bright yellow eyes marvelled at the exposed flame.

“Though it took me a while to properly control it, I’ve had this power for all my life,” She explained, snuffing the light against her palm, “What about you? What’s that symbol on your hand and what did you do with the clouds?”

As if to match her, the hedgehog raised his hand. Light seemed to pulse and ebb from the shining mark at his hand’s centre, tinting the environment around it. Once that had been shown, in such a casual way, the hedgehog turned and gestured to the sea before pointing his forefinger up. A light seemed to well in the dark depths of the water and, almost instantly, the waves ceased their lapping. Slowly coiling its way up, like some great serpent emerging from a lake, a long tendril of water, bathed in that same cyan glow, began to extend from the sea. It cut the sky, stretching a good ten metres up. Then, with a further wave of his hand, it fell away from them as though it was a tree that’d been chopped at the base. With a colossal splash, the waves restarted with a brief degree of additional aggression before, eventually, settling back into their regular pattern.

In any other situation, coming from any other person, Blaze would have taken this as some vague show of force. She knew that he could manipulate more than water, she’d seen him shift the cloud many miles in the sky, but he’d chosen to control the element that directly countered her own. Again though, for some unthinkable reason, Blaze couldn’t find the emotion to be shocked or perturbed.

“I’m psychic, I’ve had this power for as long as I remember but, to be quite honest, I’ve got no idea how it actually works or where it comes from,” His smile grew a little warmer, “I never really thought it all that important, all that matters is how these powers are used.”

“I’ve tried to embody similar thoughts myself,” She quickly responded, attempting not to dwell on that or the thoughts that came with it, “It’s your turn.”

“This is my big question, but I know this might be a little strange to ask. You don’t have to answer it if you’re not comfortable,” He said, as if everything up to this point had been normal, “Do you like living here? Do you like being the princess?”  

This wasn’t a question Blaze was new to, it wasn’t uncommon for children to ask what it was like being a princess, but Blaze thought his version carried a little more weight. He wasn’t asking about the simple things, like sleeping in a big bed or heading public events. For whatever reason, the princess knew he was asking if she actually enjoyed the role she’d been born into and, again for some unknown reason, she felt prompted to answer truthfully. This stranger was compelling her to unearth truths in a way that she hadn’t dared before.

“It’s… difficult,” She muttered, “Even though I hold a privileged position, even though I know I’m luckier than most, I don’t know that I’ve ever been comfortable,” Her head found her hand, her gaze drifted to the sea, “I can’t see my friends often, I can’t choose where I go and when, I can’t even stroll to the docks on a whim,” For some reason, although that was true, saying it aloud felt incredibly selfish, “But, it would be a lie to say I’m totally uncomfortable here. Marine keeps things interesting. Though I’ve seen adversity I’ve either been able to handle it or found the strength to call upon friends to aid me. Even if it’s not perfect, I’m happy I can live here and bring justice for those around me. I don’t know that I could ever see myself giving it up or…”

Blaze caught herself, grinding their conversation to a halt, “This is hardly professional of me; I really don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I shouldn’t be talking to anyone like this.”

“Well, I’d be lying if I told you I minded all that or that I wasn’t enjoying our conversation,” His eyes seemed to flicker away from hers and, though he spoke positively, his grin drooped ever so slightly, “I simply have a face that a people find familiar, I think it’s got something to do with my travels through time. People tend to speak with me in ways that they wouldn’t others.”

Somehow, despite the softness of his expressions and the newness behind their interactions, the princess could see that he wasn’t telling the total truth. There was something in the bending of his brow, the way the words hung on his lips. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t to do with him at all. Maybe it was the way his words resonated with her eardrums.

Equally though, she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t see what he’d said, “You do have a rather…” She rummaged for the right words, good and polished words, but what she drew was far too flimsy, “Kind face,” Though her stomach churned at her inaccurate choice of words, she pressed on, “Though that concerns me, it does really feel as though I’ve met you before. Were you a friend of Gardon’s?”

“Gardon?” The word rolled off his tongue, she couldn’t recall hearing that name in his voice at all. She knew the answer before he seemed to, “No, I don’t think so. Who’s Gardon?”

“He was,” Her tongue hitched on words like a hoe dragging through rocks, “Like a father to me,” That seemed right to tell him, even if it wasn’t proper to admit, “I didn’t especially realise that when he was with us but, despite that, I think he knew. He’d looked after me since I was a little girl, I can’t imagine he didn’t occasionally consider himself in that role,” She found herself stumbling, emotions were bubbling to the surface but, for some reason, despite her oversharing, she didn’t care, “I probably should have said I shared his view or made my attachment clearer but, given my position, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“Well,” Hesitantly, shakily, that glowing hand of his came to reside upon her shoulder. Any normal stranger would have promptly been brushed off, told to keep their hands away, but something about that weight upon her shoulder ebbed with a further familiarity that she could not place, “It sounds as if I’d love to have been a friend of Gardon’s, I’m so sorry, Blaze.”

It was only now, having sat with him for a while, that Blaze was beginning to pick up on subtle aspects of his mannerisms. Every word seemed as though it was intently thought out, as if he was running through a thousand memories every time she finished a sentence- so often punctuated with a hum or the word well. It was as if he was doing what she had done for so many years; carefully choosing his words, trying to match her royal status. The only difference was that while she searched for professional words, he seemed to do much the opposite. Not once had he remembered to call her your majesty or your highness, regardless of how much thinking he did.

“Though it’s not the same, I’ve lost someone close to me too,” For the first time since they’d started their conversation, his gaze had flickered away from her and back towards the sea, “Then again, I-I suppose that’s to be expected when you reach my age,” He took another moment, his remaining hand slipped from her shoulder to his knee as he seemed to catch himself, “No one so recently of course, but it’s hard to forget,” She watched his brow furrow further, his fingers seemed to push deeper into his cloak as his words slowly spilled, “You never actually want to forget. If you do, you’ll regret forgetting, more than anything else in the world.”

Once again, the two found themselves sitting in silence. Blaze the cat, the cold and hardened queen of the Sol dimension, felt a few bizarre words weighing so heavily on her tongue. In a matter of moments, with only a handful of words, the tension between them had remounted and tripled. Despite that, she was about to make things even more awkward.

“D-Did you love them?” She stumbled to ask, rather immediately regretting it but finding it impossible not to say something in continuation, “The person that you lost, I mean.”

“Oh, I loved her more than anything,” His answer was so immediate, “So much in fact that I can’t help but think I very much took her for granted. She never took to the word love well, it always seemed to embarrass her, but I feel as though I should have said it a million times more,” Unlike the name of Gardon or so many other things Blaze had heard today, the word love in his tone sounded so unforgivably familiar. It made her feel as though she was some kind of demon for not knowing where she’d heard it, “She was smart, brave, strong… and so much kinder than she probably liked to think, let alone that she could stand to admit,” The way he spoke seemed to carry a nostalgic joy and love that Blaze couldn’t recall seeing in any person, across their entire life “She’d scold me so often, I don’t think she realised that was how she showed her love. I don’t think I knew it either, but I would still go too far and get myself hurt just trying to impress her. It was all with the intent to do good of course, never pointless, but...”

A spark had grown in his eye, another glow that she recognised, but so very quickly he seemed to snuff it. Worry lines appeared on the hedgehog’s brow as he turned back to the sunset.

His smile frayed away at the seams as he mumbled, that love wasn’t gone but now it was being tiptoed around, “Well, she went too far herself a handful of times…”

This old man, this man almost three times her age, had already established a connection with her that few people, inside or out of her kingdom, had managed. Somehow, in a matter of minutes and without seeming to try, he’d managed to bring her fully out of her shell and allowed her access to his. No, it was more than that, it was as if she wanted access to the walls around this history he’d lived.  

“I’m…” Something about this felt weird to say, even though she knew it was right, “Sorry for your loss too.”

“I’m sure she loves watching the sunset,” He half hummed before catching himself and beginning to stammer, “W-Would have loved to, rather. This world is so very pretty, though I haven’t stayed for long, I’ve found myself rather smitten with it,” With his hand, he gestured out to the horizon and she followed his pointing, “Islands littered with limitless wonders, a glorious sunset every evening, softly rolling tides and wonderful people,” He spoke such simple words but they were so plainly from the heart, “Yes, this must be the most beautiful place I’ve ever visited. Even better than the world I made.”

Having not watched many sunsets, Blaze didn’t think she was in a good position to judge but there was no denying the prettiness of this sky. The soft pink of the ether, fading orange away from the sun and red towards, it was truly breath-taking to behold. The way the silver clouds hung, parted by his will, as if it were a picture frame surrounding the view made it all the more special. It was as if he’d revealed something she’d never have noticed, like he’d excavated some fossil or deciphered some ancient code.

“I’ve…” She caught herself before she could say something naïve again, “I must profess, I never really watched it until today. It just seemed so regular, as if it wasn’t worth noticing,” That turned his head but she kept her focus on the view in front of them, “But you’re right, it is beautiful,” In this moment, having discussed so much, Blaze felt bold enough to finally pry and ask the question she weirdly felt she already knew the answer to, “What did you say your name was?”

“Oh, I don’t think you asked so I didn’t give my name,” He’d tried to make it sound as though he’d just realised but Blaze could tell that was intentional, “I’m, um…” It took him much too long to provide an answer, “I’m Venice, yes, sorry. Its been a while since I’ve heard my name, let alone used it.”

“Venice?” That name didn’t sit fondly on her tongue, it didn’t seem to suit him at all. No, without even watching him speak it, Blaze knew that he was lying, “You mean, like the city in the other dimension? The one with the canals.”

“Y-Yeah,” He muttered in an attempt to reaffirm, “I think I was born there. I must admit, its been too long for me to really remember now. It’s really beautiful, but it can’t compare to this…”

“I see,” She didn’t feel as though she could really fight him on this, not directly at least.

In the silence that followed, Blaze couldn’t help but tear her gaze from the skyline and attempt to look upon him again. His heart seemed to always be on his sleeve; he was perpetually trying not to lie but plainly obfuscating the truth. Now closer, she could make out little details that were lost on her before. While his missing arm and leg were the most obvious marks on his body, it was clear that the tattered shroud he wore was intended to cover more. On his muzzle, just beneath his left eye, was a thin but clear gash that stretched almost the entire length of his cheek. The hedgehog’s nose looked as though it had been broken at least once, the way his left shoulder seemed to slump suggested that arm hadn’t escaped unharmed too and he was missing no fewer than three teeth.

These injuries would make any normal person feel bad for the hedgehog, but something about them was impacting Blaze a magnitude more than she’d expected. She’d been to hospitals in the wake of disaster, she’d seen people with injuries like his and even far worse following great storms and fires and floods, and she had felt for them… but it had never seemed quite so personal. Perhaps it was because he was older and she had just lost Gardon, perhaps it was because he’d shown her kindness, but Blaze doubted that. It was probably because of the bizarre connection she had felt this entire time. Who was this old man, who had he loved and what was he doing here?

Despite that question hanging in her mind, a very different one fell from Blaze’s mouth, “Do you want to talk about your partner some more?”

Equal parts of his face read that he did and didn’t want to but, ultimately, he resumed his talk, “I remember every detail, every little thing about her, as if we were together only yesterday. The way she’d flinch and brace at every bump in the night, the way she’d try to hide her laugh whenever I was especially stupid, the purrs she’d babble whenever things were truly peaceful, how she’d fuss over me while bandaging my injuries only to fuss more when I offered to help with hers,” Emotion now seemed to be overwhelming him, he went from staring straight at the sunset to turning such that she couldn’t see more than the edge of his muzzle, “There was this word she’d use, scolding me but not scolding me every time she spoke it. I didn’t even know what it meant for ages; it took me until very recently to know just what she meant by it though…”

Before she could even puppet her tongue, a question forcibly spilled fourth, “What was that word?”

“Oh, I don’t think I can stand to say it,” Somehow, by only seeing the edge of his ears furrowing and the slightest shake of his body, the princess could tell that the old hedgehog was at least hurting if not actually crying, “I’m sorry.”

Carefully, slowly, Blaze reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. That contact seemed to freeze him entirely or, perhaps, it would be better said that her touch had petrified him, “There’s nothing to be sorry for, I’m sorry you lost someone you clearly cared so much for,” For whatever reason, even though it was what so many had said to her after Gardon’s death, that didn’t seem like enough, “But, judging by what you said when I first arrived, I’m sure she’d be very proud of you. It sounds like you’ve lived a difficult life and done more for your world than people will ever know.”

“She probably would be,” He turned back, eyes red and plainly tired. He rubbed at his eyes with his stub, “I suppose, I lived up to our agreement.”

“You had an agreement?” She automatically pried before instantly regretting her forwardness.

“We promised to save our world, regardless of the cost,” Those words carried a weight that, try as she might, Blaze couldn’t shake. He concluded with five simple words that carried a tremendous weight, “That cost was rather high.”

Again, words seemed to leave her before she could question whether it was right or wrong to ask, “Do you think it was worth it?”

“I like to think this was,” Pulling his hand from his face, he rubbed where his right hand should have been, “Other things though… no, not so much, but there’s no going back now. It’s too late now, there’s no way of making up for what we exchanged.”

Blaze didn’t even need to ask the next question on her mind- the gap was filled without her permission. He lost his partner, whoever this woman was, to their task, at what stage and age she had no idea, but Blaze could feel her heart bleeding for him. He was old and so there was no real way to know when he’d lost her, he talked as if it was recent but to her it felt as though she’d vanished from his life long ago. This was just so strange, Blaze felt so many things that she couldn’t express and couldn’t recall feeling before. Why was he talking with her about all this?

Floundering, struggling for something to raise his spirits, Blaze blurted, “W-What about the others? I assume you’ve spent time with Cream, Sonic, Amy, all of them? Bonding with them helped me, did it do the same for you?”

“To an extent, I can’t deny that, but I haven’t seen any of them for decades. I’ve been dealing with their children and their children’s children and so on…” Recalling that seemed to return some of the joy to his muzzle, “Their faces began to blur towards the end, I’m sure I called one of their furthest descendants Amy more often than by her own name,” He almost chuckled, “It feels like yours is the most unique face I’ve seen in years, Blaze.”

Not once had he referred to her as princess or by the likes of your majesty, he’d asked about it as her job but it clearly wasn’t who he considered her. The name Blaze seemed to fall from his mouth and slip into her ears so easily, as if it almost belonged in the space between the two of them. Venice didn’t seem as though it’d capture nearly the same space.

“But no, there was no replacing her; not even partially,” He managed to continue, bright eyes gleamed with light even as the sun was rapidly setting, “Knowing them helped certainly but it's only now, as I reach this twilight age, I’ve realised quite how much I miss her.”

Part of Blaze wanted to believe that was the only reason he was here, that the old man was a wandering soul that’d long lost its leash, but there was something in itching at the back of her head that told her that wasn’t true. Furthermore, while it sounded like there was some truth to what he’d said, it didn’t seem like the whole truth; his talk of forgetting echoed in her mind. Regardless of that though, this sad hedgehog had rather endeared himself to her and if she could help shed some of that weight from his shoulders then she’d have done good today.

“What was she like?” She more gently questioned.

“My partner was, and always will be, the best person I ever knew,” His remaining shoulder started to relax, his whole form seemed to loosen as his stare returned to the sunset, “She knew me better than I knew myself, whenever I was pushing myself too far she wouldn’t hesitate to stop me. Without even blinking, she wouldn’t hesitate to knock me down or tell me I was being foolish. My emotions would get the better of me rather often while, even though she usually felt the same as me, she subdued most of hers. Whenever she couldn’t though, whenever things grew too aggravating or a defeat crushed her, I was there as best as I could be to help,” Even though he was looking off into the distance, she could tell he was more imagining than staring at the sunset, “She’d read poetry and prose while I liked to play games and investigate history, but we shared a number of things…”

For whatever reason, though she assumed it to be second-hand embarrassment on the part of Venice’s long-lost partner, the way he’d phrased those first compliments and briefly regaled her with their history was warming the princess’ heart further still. She found herself shifting just a little closer, entirely enamoured with the way he talked about this woman. Though Blaze couldn’t even begin to picture this other time traveler in her mind, she felt as though she was familiar too. Albeit, in a very different way.

“The world we were born into was practically devoid of nature, plants refused to grow and rain rarely fell. The world of the past that we knew came from books and, of the collections of books we found, none would interest us like those tomes containing nature photography. They let us see waterfalls, lush green grass and sights we couldn’t have even fathomed,” He reminisced, “As soon as I found out about them, I’d compare her to a star so very often. It always seemed to embarrass her just a little, how I always thought they were so very pretty. I never meant it like that at the time, but hindsight and a life of living paints a rather different story. I was so very… well, it’s not her word, but I was very oblivious to both of our feelings.”

A few clouds had begun to drift, dusting the sky and obscuring the end of the sunset, but with a wave he rearranged the sky again. As he did so, she watched as his attention was pulled from that imagined place and arrived back at reality. What was pink had gradually drifted to a deeper red and the colour had begun to overwhelm the dark clouds that lingered upon it. Even as it was nearing its end, even if the sun would dip beneath the horizon in a matter of minutes, it was all still so beautiful.

“The way the sun paints the sky in such a natural way never ceases to amaze me. I love a bright blue sky, free of clouds, but the way this one contrasts and blurs them is just so…” The joy in his voice reached a crescendo, “I’m just so glad that I finally got to see this with you.”

“See this with me?” Blaze blinked; she’d been overjoyed to hear him talk so freely but that stumble caught her full attention.

Her questioning seemed to stop him in his tracks, just as it did her. What could he have possibly meant by that? Panic and regret crumpled his face, “Um, yes… I’m glad we could have our meeting, as in…” The hedgehog’s head quickly whipped from her again, “But it’s been so long, the sun’s almost set. I’m sorry, Blaze, I’ve taken up far too much of your time,” A flash of cyan emanated from beneath his robes and, before Blaze could even understand what was happening, he’d materialised a leg from light and risen to stand tall. His remaining hand was extended down to her, “I’m sure you must be very busy…”

“N-No, I… Venice,” As she took his hand and said that name for the first time, it felt so wrong in her mouth. It absolutely wasn’t his name, “I don’t know what has happened, or even who you truly are, but meeting you…” She scrambled for the right words, “I don’t know what it is, but I feel as if there’s much more to you. I’ve never talked to someone like this, let alone a stranger. We’ve hardly been together half an hour but-

“Th-That’s why I need to go, even that’s too long,” He grumbled before a pulsing hum began to overwhelm his words. He raised his remaining hand and from the ring in his palm a disk of cyan light was projected. With another gesture, it was pushed outwards and Blaze could see a swirling blue vortex within that hole, “I’ve probably stayed with you longer than I should have, I’m sorry.”

“Why did you actually come here? What did you come here to do?” Why was her voice wavering? Why was she getting louder? What did it matter if this stranger left? “You can’t have crossed time and space just to see me, why would you do that?”

“Even if things aren’t perfect, I’m glad you’re safe and comfortable here,” He wasn’t listening to her or, at the very least, he wasn’t acknowledging her words, “Please try to enjoy yourself. If you get the opportunity, please be with your friends more and live the life you want to live. You were…” He managed to look at her again, smiling while his eyes were stained red with tears, “You are brilliant, Blaze. I’m so glad I made it here before the end,” Without turning from her, he stumbled forward and vanished into that void.

Her immediate reflex was to follow but the hole collapsed on itself and vanished in the air, spluttering out his final words, “Good luck,” as it vanished from reality.

Alone on the docks, left with only the sound of the waves and the whistling of wind, Blaze felt something inside her ache in a way she’d never ached before. Who was that figure, why did she care, what had he meant by his end and why had he come? She didn’t feel like she was watching one of her citizens die, she didn’t even feel as she had at Gardon’s funeral; this was alien to her and yet so familiar.

Having only risen to her feet a moment ago, she stumbled back and ended up sitting on the dock again. Ahead of her was the sky that he’d cleared, the sun had just dipped beneath the horizon. It was only a matter of time before his last impact on the world would be blown away, clouds were already encroaching on the space he’d made. He’d be wiped from this world, the ship’s he’d revived for Marine would surely sink again, but, for some reason, that old man had claimed an eternal place within the princess’ soul.

Why that was and who he was she’d surely never know, but she hoped her heart would stop aching soon.

[autumnslance]

I've got a writing question that's been on my mind for a while: how do you keep your OCs from becoming self inserts? Every time I think of developing an OC I realize that it's attributes that I

Oops, you got cut off! But in general: all your OCs are going to have traits of yours; it’s inevitable. Sometimes big things, sometimes small things. It’s how we relate to them, and also just natural, I promise. We write what we know, and we know how we interact with ourselves and the world.

But there is a difference between sharing some traits with a character and making them a self-insert. It’s letting their life, their community and culture, their experiences, also influence their traits and thinking, in ways that might be different from how you would respond in a similar situation. Even if you share those attributes.

This is me so let’s go behind a cut shall we?

Dark Autumn is as introverted and solitary by nature as I am; she can and does interact in professional and friendly ways with people (as I try to do), but needs alone time to recharge. However, Dark also has a very different outlook and relationship with her family than I, since her family is large and supportive, very close knit. If family is a lottery, I got the $50 scratch off prize while she hit the Mega-Millions. So I take that into account when thinking of her relationships not just with family, but with friends and potential romantic interests; Dark sees things through a lens of positive, low-drama familial relationships that I can barely fathom. This also means she has a support network and resources myself and other characters don’t, so gets some wish fulfillment of working through issues with care and grace instead of remaining in unhealthy places. She is my “comfort OC” so gets a lot of good things I wish I had—which shapes how she responds to others, like taking care of a FCmate and becoming something of a big sister figure for him, or the responsible older sister figure of my group of OCs. Which is me, really, idealizing my own older sister tendencies into this giant woman who’s better at it.

Aeryn was written to be on the ace scale; not my first character to be so, but the first written that way as I began to realize where my own orientations lie and wanting to examine that through fiction. That she fell for a certain rogue in the process of playing through MSQ again was not at all intentional. I like Thancred as a character—he hits a lot of tropes I enjoy—but in my own mindset, he’s a frustrating younger brother. I didn’t think I’d do NPC x WoL shipping. But there it is, because in determining Aeryn’s own experiences and how those shaped her, it ended up working out that way (and I spent the better part of 2 years writing the characters separately to figure that out and if it could work before writing them together because it’s not something that comes naturally to me).

Aeryn’s internal anger is something I have a difficult time with; it’s outside my own nature to carry things like that. I have my angers, certainly, but they are different from hers. I tend to need a lot to set me off and then it burns out hot and quick. Aeryn’s more of a long boil she keeps bottled up. I’ve gotten a few things through various fics, I think, but it’s why I do things like reference arguments but rarely depict them. Being non-confrontational myself (I’m meek and have hangups thanks to my own life) it’s a challenge. Aeryn responded to childhood traumas (that I never dealt with), bullying (that I did), losses (that I haven’t yet), and the responsibility she’s been given (thank goodness I don’t) far differently than I. Maybe I’d be more volatile, too, if I had her life. But I understand where her anger comes from sharing some of the reasons, I just shape it differently than my own.

There’s a lot of things about Dark and Aeryn that are accidentally similar, just due to the timing of their character generation and other RP OCs made for other games along the way; “Oh I haven’t done X or Y in a character in awhile” sort of thing, but how each approaches those similarities and why—their quietness, their issues with using magic, their tendency to “adopt” others as family—all come from different places and resolve differently, too.

C’oretta comes from a part of me that doesn’t quite want to grow up. That wishes I had been more of the peppy, active, cheerful, risk-taking, live it up stereotypical party kid, that “popular girl” archetype I felt so often on the outside looking in about. As my second character, I wanted her to be different from Dark Autumn—visually, emotionally, mentally. Where Dark is steady, C’oretta is flighty. While Dark is people oriented, C’oretta’s a bit selfish (like I often feel). Dark’s introverted, C’oretta’s extroverted. Much of C’oretta’s attitude is a deflection against the hurts in her life, a way to fight back against some terrible things. It’s a way I could never react. But I also can’t get away from a character who loves to learn and wants to try new things—but where other characters gain the ability to stick with and see them through, C’oretta gets my easy frustration and boredom, and then the “ooh shiny” of a new interest. There’s a history of ADHD (or whatever the acronyms are now) and even autism and learning issues in my family; it’s possible I have some undiagnosed ND stuff going on, and people have noted these things in C’oretta that I’ve based on my own experiences and those of people very close to me.

Many of my characters have traits I wish I had, or were better at; patience, kindness, consideration, convictions, courage, thoughtfulness, and so on and etc. They’re good at skills I haven’t the knowledge in, or the ability to do. They’re certainly more active than I am, or could be! Because I can take the time to think and plan and research and write those things out better, and just maybe along the way not only learn something myself, but try to practice it better myself. I can even sometimes let them teach me what I can possibly do or be, not just imagine it as an ideal that’s out of reach.

I try to let my characters make mistakes I wouldn’t—or in some cases, have in my past, and that’s OK. Especially if I learned from them, but maybe the character does not. Maybe they do but it takes awhile, or repeated instances until it sinks in. Maybe I let them make errors I still make, as a way to puzzle out better solutions I should probably entertain for myself.

Character voice is something I’ve felt I struggled with in keeping my OCs distinct. Do characters ‘sound’ alike, in dialogue and prose? Having distinct ways of speaking helps; C’oretta’s breathless chatty run-ons are certainly different from Dark and Aeryn’s quieter tendencies. I have to remember to trim down Aeryn’s dialogue more often, say less aloud, add more gestures and facial expressions. I tend to be a talker, an over-explainer (if you can’t tell), while the only times she gets like that are specific. Dark’s somewhere in the middle of those two, like I am. A lot of the reason I like writing NPCs and try to keep them close to my interpretation of canon is to practice distinct character voice to get better at it in my OCs, so they don’t sound like me!

And something I’ve never admitted to before is that I think for me, it helps that from the time I was a kid watching various series of Star Trek, I always have had an in-my-own-head-only self-insert. She’s always a support character (that’s what I’m best at). She has cool and unusual abilities to help the actual heroes, cuz heck it’s my internal fantasy and that’s fun. She has traits I want to be better at or wish I had, developed over time with more energy and focus than I can actually muster in reality. As time’s gone on, she’s become more of a mentor and Mom Friend as I’m now older and see a lot of protagonist characters as “my kids” now. She appears in nearly every story I’ve loved over time, in one iteration or another. And because I have a headspace character where I can say “this is what I, ideally, would say and do and be capable of in this situation…” My other characters that I actually write about can vary between doing something similar (if it suits them) to doing something completely different (cuz darn kids never listen) as I can compare them to the self-insert and decide where to diverge.

So it’s a mix of myself and my traits and knowledge, but taking into account how each character would respond and use those same attributes differently than I do or would. Write what you know, write who you are—and then add in some wish fulfillment, some what ifs, some bad choices, some good choices, and shake things up. Give the characters tics and tricks different from yourself and let that shape them, too, by remembering to take those things into account (even if you have to tape a note to your monitor).

And finally, don’t be ashamed of your self-inserts; I’ve known some great characters that started as self-inserts and grew, through their experiences, into wholly different people than their writers over time. Heck, the epic romance my original WoW priest was part of was with a character that started as a self-insert; his player began the game knowing nothing of the lore or roleplaying, but as he learned the story and how to RP, and determined how his character fit into the world and how that shaped him, the character diverged over time, while still sharing some key traits (some endearing, some frustrating, as people are and all part of that friend). It’s not a bad starting point at all. The rest can come over time and practice, especially if you make a lot of OCs and try to make them different from each other while also being aspects of yourself.