#does she slither? does she float? does her arms and legs start being like reasonably proportioned?..

[mae-gi-writes]

Obtuse | Bang Chan (Stray Kids) - PART ONE

Summary ☆ "I don't know. I want to be his friend but then again, I don't. I mean, how can you simply be friends with someone when every time you look at them, you're thinking about how much more you really want?"

Genre ☆ bestfriends to lovers au, angst, slowburn, suggestive themes, college au, fluff, soft Chan x oc (Micha)

Word count ☆ 6k ish

. ° ☆ ° .

PART ONE

. ° ☆ ° .

Micha hated being wrong.

Her fingers tapped an unsteady rhythm over her notebook as she stared at the block of text she had been supposedly studying for the past hour, her desk lamp casting a yellowish hue over her page as if the book itself was a sickly entity with the sole goal of rendering her mad. Attached to her ceiling, her fan kept on whirring in a noisy hum which -- while she normally managed to tune it out --  grated at her nerves. The world bustled outside, cars honking in the distance while soft rain splattered over her bedroom window as she sighed for what must’ve been the nth time that evening, slowly lifting her arms up in a stretch. 

It wasn’t in her nature to be so scatter-brained, for once she set her mind to something, there could be little to stop her. That was one of the qualities she could pride herself on considering that there was hardly any skill she could flaunt to the world -- surely there were far more interesting things than reciting off a long list of human body parts and their required functions? 

But this recent issue popping up in her brain was doing a great job at knocking her off her feet. Dear god, she felt the same sense of unbalance as when she was five and her mom had enrolled her into ballerina lessons. 

Long story short, it hadn’t ended well.

Micha’s eyes darted to her phone that she’d tossed onto her bed a few minutes ago. The cause of her restlessness, the cause of unease stirring inside her stomach like an angry beast prowling back and forth.

The words from his earlier message felt like they were etched into her memory: 

Chan: SHE SAID YES

Just three words. Three little stings that made her wince every time she thought of them. Three little needles that pierced at her heartstrings.

Why? 

Her grip tightened onto her pen. So hard her knuckles turned the colour of chalk.

Why didn’t she feel happy for him as she was supposed to? 

Micha’s tongue poked at her cheek. 

Why did it feel so wrong? Why did she feel wronged when she’d done nothing of the sort? 

Wasn't it just a few weeks ago that she had spurred Chan's obvious interest, urging him to hustle a little closer to that particular girl in question when she had caught the said young man casting her quick, shy glances over the rim of his drink?

"Just ask her," Micha told him when he'd sought her out looking like a lost puppy amidst the heavy bass of the music. It had been the summer right before their final year of University and on this special occasion, Minho had thrown a small party to which every high school classmate of their year had been invited.

"You know I can't. I don't know how...you know," he scratched the back of his head, dark locks ruffling as the summer wind. It was in those small, stolen moments -- where Chan was the most vulnerable, where he let down his guard to deploy his array of unspoken feelings -- that she remembered the young man for who he was: the familiar fullness of his full lips, the curve of his nose, the simplicity of his monolids.

"You won't know till you try," she took a sip of her rum and coke.

Truthfully speaking, Chan had never been in a serious relationship. He was friends with everyone, the kind of person that was easy-going and who could engage in any kind of conversation with anyone and everyone. The only consequence was that Chan was thrust into the friendzone without even trying.

But then again, he was a nice guy. And nice guys finished last.

“What’s the worst that can happen anyway?” Micha joked as she downed the rest of her drink, “she’s been eyeing you since we got here.” 

“Really?” 

“Really.” 

He leaned closer with squinted eyes as he tried to find the lie in her words, “you’re not just saying that to be nice?”

He was so close she got a whiff of his scent. Reaching up with her index finger to push him away, Micha proceeded to roll her eyes, “I don’t do nice, Chan. We both know that.” 

She shouldn’t have been surprised to see him slip away a few minutes later to seek her out. Ayeong was her name. Beauty, in Korean. And which suited her perfectly, what with her tiny waist and her big set of doe eyes that could make any man weak at the knees, her supple legs that seemed to go on and on forever and that cupid bow’s mouth that was always puckered in that innocently cute, yet sensual way of hers.

And if not for her physique, Ayeong was known for her kindness and for her outgoing, free-natured and confident spirit. That was the killer blow for any man that sought her out. 

Micha had known her since high school, hung out with the same friends and admittedly could classify her as one too, even though college life had pulled them apart like boats that had left the harbour only to find each other after a year.

Memories of Micha’s last night flickered behind her open lids and leaning back into her chair with a sigh, she gave way to the sudden urge of homesickness suddenly flowing through her heart. 

Their last movie night had ended and despite Micha’s frantic eye movements towards Ayeong’s figure, Chan had immediately volunteered to walk her back home. 

Micha kept her gaze forward, noticing how the golden glow of the street lamps did little to light their way. She turned her head to the right, where the road gave way to the landscape littered with golden lights, now bathed in deep hues of blue as light slowly slithered from behind the mountains. 

“So this is it huh?” Chan’s murmur sliced through with a hint of sadness in his deep alto, “you sure you’re not going to come back home for Christmas?” 

It was tradition after all. They had made it adamant to travel back at least every three months and up until now, they had kept that promise. 

Now though, with Micha’s piling workload and with Chan’s busy thesis schedule, this year might be the one exception.

“I can’t, Chan. I have my internship,” Micha didn’t dare look at him, fighting the tightness winding in her chest, “you can always drop by. My university is just a train ride away I suppose.”

"You’re not gonna kick me out if I turn up at your door one day?” 

“I can’t promise that.” 

He gasped, grabbing onto his chest in mock hurt, “Ouch. Okay, what if I turn up with your favourite bubble tea?” 

"Then we might have a deal.” 

They both laughed softly, pushing each other with their elbows as they walked up Micha’s street. At one point, Chan had looped his arm around hers before shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets and as they talked about their recent adventures and all the dumb things they’d done, it was clear that he was avoiding the pain of saying goodbye right until he stopped at her front door.

She turned to him and forced down the tears burning at the edges of her eyes. The morning light had slithered through the landscape now and hit the side of Chan’s face in a scarlet shade of golden, reflecting the caramel of his orbs pinning her down with a sadness that made her throat choke up.

“Stop it,” the words flew from her mouth without warning and Chan blinked, head tilting with confusion, “What? Stop what?” 

“Stop...looking at me like that,” she finished her sentence in a mumble while she averted her eyes in growing embarrassment.

“Like what?” 

“Like you’re going to cry.” 

“I’m not!” 

“There are tears in your eyes!” 

“N-No there aren’t!” And he quickly wiped at his face before angling his head to the side, “why would I cry for you?” 

“You tell me.” 

“Well I’m not!” He turned away to walk down the driveway in a huff, “bye now!” 

“Ugh bye loser!” 

Micha turned so quickly she almost smacked her face onto her front door, hurriedly trying to erase the image of Chan’s back walking away from her before she broke down into a pool of hot tears.

She didn't want to think about that. Didn't want to linger upon the way her throat seemed to choke up as she fought the emotion--

"Micha?” 

Chan’s voice. It floated between them, a lingering question. The said girl felt rooted in place, fighting the tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. 

And when she turned, she was met with his arms lacing around her middle to pull her close. 

His chin on her shoulder, head pressed against hers. Holding her tight. 

“Video calls every week,” he murmured, “at least one text per day.” 

"What are you? My boyfriend?” 

“Micha.” 

“Fine, fine.” 

Chan's warmth felt like sunshine on her back. If she closed her eyes hard enough she could travel back to that very moment she allowed herself to be swayed back and forth in those strong arms of his.

In the weeks following the start of their final year Micha had plunged headfirst into her studies to avoid the slow build-up of homesickness crawling through her heart. And the more work piled up, the less she found time to update Chan on her life. What with her endless hours spent in the library and the small bursts of freedom that she spent with her course mates, it made it close to impossible to sit down and have a proper talk.

So when Chan video-called her one day, her burst of excitement was soon rendered to something akin to annoyance when the only reason was to tell her about Ayeong’s visit to his campus. She couldn’t ignore the slight sting of jealousy coating the back of her tongue as he blabbered off like an excited child, eyes shining and all. 

“I think I might ask her out at the end of this week,” he grinned with dreamy eyes, “I think there’s definitely something.” 

“Good for you.” 

He’d noticed her irritation, as if there was an itch under her skin she couldn’t quite reach, “You okay, Mi? I didn’t even get to ask--”

“I’m fine,” she snapped and softened almost instantly when hurt flashed through his face, “I’m sorry,...just stressed out.” 

“Hey,” concern immediately clouded his features over, “you gotta take care of yourself too. Are you eating well? Sleeping well?” 

A sigh of frustration escaped his lips when she’d shook her head reluctantly, “Don’t make me come over. You know I can do that.” 

“That would be nice,” came her mumble which didn’t reach his ears, for he asked, “What?” 

“Nothing,” she sighed, brushing off the wistful thoughts swimming inside her head and focusing back on Chan’s face at the other end of the screen, “keep me updated with the Ayeong thing.” 

She’s not right for you, her brain seemed to scream. 

But Ayeong did. She did say yes.

And Micha wasn’t sure why she was feeling so bitter about it.

. ° ☆ ° .

"Please sign here, miss.” 

Micha’s surprised orbs quickly flitted up from the large cardboard box to the postman’s clipboard being shoved in her face, “Uh--sure.”

She scrawled her initials, gave back the clipboard with a muttered ‘thanks’ before the postman shoved the box in her arms and walked away without even giving her a second glance. 

Had she ordered something online by accident? That wouldn’t be surprising. Since midterm season, time had been irrelevant to Micha, flowing like a ticking time bomb the more the days approached towards her final deadlines.

To say that she was a walking corpse on campus was not an understatement. 

She got her answer a few minutes later when she answered the phone from a very excited, puppy-like Chan. 

“Did you get it?!” he bellowed with barely contained excitement. Still wrapped up in his blankets with his hair dishevelled and his eyes barely open, Micha couldn’t help but grin at the comical picture he presented, “did you get the package?” 

“By package, you mean this big-ass box?” Micha turned the camera to the floor, causing him to squeal like a child who got his Christmas presents early. 

“Oh nice! Open it, come on!” 

“Chan, I swear if it’s something like one of those scary muppets you like so much--”

“You have so little faith in me.” 

“Can you blame me when you were the one who put salt in my coffee?” 

“It was just to experiment.” 

“That coffee was of good quality!” 

“Just open it." 

She tore open the package while grumbling under her breath at how bossy he was being, cracked open the box to blink at the different flavours of tea filling it up to the brim. 

“You--” she couldn’t help the laughter from bubbling up her throat, “you got me tea?” 

“Wait--unless I got this wrong -- you like tea right?” 

His panicked tone made her burst out in even more laughter, “Oh my god Chan!” 

“You always tell me to spill the tea--I was just trying to be punny.” 

“It’s--Oh my god--” she doubled over laughing and Chan joined in with giggles of his own, “Chan, you’re so bad.” 

“Admit it, it’s funny.”

“It’s lame!” 

She grinned back at her phone as warmth spread through her middle. It was admittedly in moments like these that she missed Chan the most. The longing to see him suddenly surged through her with such ferocity in the form of tears slowly brimming at the corner of her eyes and she had to turn away while changing the subject. 

“Got any plans this weekend?” she asked while looking over the various flavours of tea.

“Oh didn’t I tell you? Ayeong’s coming.” 

She almost choked on her own spit. Right. She’d forgotten about the whole Ayeon situation and Chan hadn’t updated her since then. 

"We’re spending the weekend together, I think I might bring her to the aquarium. Oh, I was gonna ask you -- what do girls like on their first dates?” his face was now alight with such a joyful glow, a spark in his eyes, that it almost hurt to look at him. 

“Does Ayeong like aquariums to start with?” Micha asked even if she secretly adored going to aquariums herself. It was admittedly a very romantic notion, to hold hands in the darkened rooms as you would watch the fish swim about. 

Chan shrugged on the other side of the screen, “dunno, thought it might be romantic.” 

You thought right, Micha’s subconscious responded, “what about just dinner?” she proposed, “maybe Ayeong wants to spend time talking. You know, getting to know each other.” 

"Hm, true. Yeah, I might look up a good restaurant. Girls don't like fast foods do they? Or anything that makes them gain weight?"

The angry creature was slowly rousing in her stomach, growling, "how would I know?"

"Well, you're a girl."

"That's exactly what the lame redheaded sidekick in Harry Potter said."

"FYI, his name is Ron and he’s not lame."

"That's not the point I was trying to make."

"Michaaaa~" Chan whined, wriggling his shoulders with a pout, "I gave you tea, stop being mean to me."

But it was useless. All the giddiness that had erupted through her at his sweet gesture was eaten up by a bitter taste on her tongue and with that she hurriedly made up a petty excuse about having class before quickly cutting off the call.

She brought her phone to her chest as she looked down at the tea boxes with growing tiredness. That was probably it right? She was in a bad mood because she was tired.

Right?

. ° ☆ ° .

"I still don't get why we have to watch it with you," Micha grumbled, plopping down beside Felix's lanky frame on the couch and careful not to jostle the bowl of salted caramel popcorn in her hands.

"Because I can't be the only one who can't sleep tonight," Changbin stated dryly like that statement totally made sense. He plopped down on her other side while Jisung settled himself against Micha's legs, "if I go down, you go down with me."

Felix snorted, "that's just a nice way to say that he likes bullying us."

Midterms were over, meaning that reading week would be a pleasurable moment of calm and serenity before assignments picked up again. It was a liminal space between deadlines, a gap that Micha and the rest of her course mates had gladly welcomed with open arms. Being the movie fanatic that he was, Changbin had jumped at the chance of hosting movie night, much to the group's displeasure for they knew that his taste in entertainment was rather jarring. Sometimes violent. And sometimes, brought about nightmares that lasted a week.

"What are we watching again?" Jisung twisted his head to look at the trio, causing both Micha and Felix to shoot Changbin accusatory looks.

"The nun," Changbin replied.

Felix whistled as Jisung jumped up crying, "Do you want me to die?!"

"No. But do you mind if we sleep in the same room tonight?"

"Fuck you I'm out of here," Jisung was already scrambling to his feet when Micha's hand shot out, clamping down on his forearm, "oh no no no, you're going down with the rest of us, Han."

"Do you know how scary that movie is?!"

"Yes, which is precisely why we're going to murder Changbin once it's ov--"

Felix's phone sprang to life amidst the conversation, "oh Chan's calling!"

The group wasted no time squishing up, limbs entangling and elbows pushing onto ribs as they all crowded around Felix's small smartphone that he held at arm's distance before sliding his finger over the green button.

"Hey mate!" Felix's Australian accent slipped out the moment Chan's face appeared onscreen and Micha would've lied to say it didn't sting a little seeing her best friend's face after so long.

"What's up Felix? Oh you're all here?" Chan's grin widened.

" Changbin's forcing us to watch the Nun with him," Micha said.

" Tattletale," muttered the said hooded-eyed man as he shoved her head. Micha laughed.

" And you? What are you up to?" Felix asked while Jisung was struggling to push Changbin's arm to get into the camera frame, " Bin, fucking move."

"Language."

" Oh I'm with Ayeong right now. Hyunjin and Minho are playing FIFA," Chan moved the camera around until Ayeong's petite face came into view, causing a knot to form in Micha's abdomen.

"Hello!"

" Ayeong! Lookin' good!"

" How's Channie treating you?"

" Has he farted in front of you yet?"

" Guys!" Chan's checks proceeded to flood with colour while the said young woman giggled in the background.

" As a matter of fact, he's been nothing but respectful."

Ugh. She was so sweet that it made Micha feel sick in her stomach. But as though Ayeong had read her mind, she immediately asked, "Micha, are the guys treating you well? How's your thesis coming along? Chan tells me you practically live in the library."

" What?” Jisung snorted, “that's not true, she--" 

Micha elbowed him before he could splutter out the truth when she had been lying to Chan all along and blabbered out, “Yeah I've been trying to finish my thesis in time because the first deadline is in two weeks. And you? How’s your internship at the hotel going?” 

Micha was thankful when Ayeong chatted on about her experience as a hotel management trainee at one of the best hotel chains in the country. It was a close call and she smacked Jisung some more for good measure, throwing him a narrow-eyed glare which he returned with a scowl of his own, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. 

As the conversation moved on to the topic of the holidays, Micha’s eyes automatically drifted to the diminished space between Chan and Ayeong’s shoulders, noticed the way he kept leaning back with his arm slowly crawling its way to Ayeong’s backside. Something tugged at her heartstrings, caused her to swallow hard. It was clear from the obvious grin on her best friend’s face that he was the happiest he’d ever been since...well, since.

All Micha wanted was to be happy for Chan. Genuinely happy. 

Not the kind of happiness that made her wish she was miles away and blind, not the kind that made her chest ache and her heart hurt as though someone had just gutted her insides out.

At some point, she excused herself and walked out into the backyard, hands shoved in the pockets of her hoodie as she looked up into the murky, cloudy sky above. How long had it been since they’d last spoken? There was no one to blame for that. They were both sprinting at a hundred miles an hour and she couldn’t blame Chan for falling so hard, so quickly, too quickly for a girl that was so easy, so loveable. Ayeong was the perfect match for him, now that Micha thought about it. 

And plus, Chan had been talking about her for ages.

But she still didn’t get it. Still didn’t understand why it constantly felt as though someone was slapping reality in her face. 

Over and over again.

“Micha!” 

Felix’s head popping out from the kitchen doorway made the said young woman swivel around, quickly rearranging her features in a cold mask of indifference, “Chan wants to talk to you.” 

“Why?” 

Even in the dark she saw Felix’s eyebrow quirk up, “you’re asking?” 

That was stupid, Micha’s subconscious rolled her eyes as she reluctantly trudged to the kitchen door and grabbed the phone from Felix’s hold. She waited for the door to close behind her before lifting the camera to her face.

“What?” 

Chan’s arms were crossed in an attempt to appear mad, though they both knew it would take a lot more to ignite that anger in him, “ Well hello there, stranger. Nice of you to show your face after weeks of going off radar. No messages, no phone calls. We were supposed to call every week. What have you got to say for yourself?” 

In any normal circumstances Micha would’ve shot back with a witty comeback without thinking as she usually did. That was the nature of their relationship after all; that endless bickering, that back and forth sibling relationship that made her feel so at ease in her skin that she sometimes forgot Chan wasn’t even part of her family.

Right now though, she felt her free hand twitch, index finger pressing onto her thumb as she nervously grated at her skin.

Biting onto her bottom lip, the only thing she managed to muster out was, “sorry.” 

Surprise flashed through Chan’s face. There was a heavy silence for a minute.

“Micha,” Chan murmured, “what’s wrong?” 

“Nothing.” 

" Sure. Care to tell me what 'nothing' is about?"

"Chan, please," She rubbed a tired hand over her face, " I'm just not feeling it today."

He stared at her for a whole minute. Micha felt herself starting to squirm.

" Okay," he mumbled out, " Okay."

Regret instantly bit at her subconscious. She loathed the slight disappointment on his face and in a half- hearted attempt to lighten the mood, she quickly veered into another subject and ignored the poignant stare he kept sending her way. She'd rather be oblivious than try and extort some coherent sense out of the tangled ball of feelings in her stomach.

When they said goodbye though, Chan leaned a little closer to the screen, an undecipherable expression on his face, " call me when you feel better."

Micha nodded and swallowed thickly.

" I mean it Micha," his voice was stern, " call me."

Maybe it was the guilt whispering at the back of her conscience, maybe it was the way she saw a flash of his face in a stranger's every time she walked the streets that made her reach out to Chan once more in the next few days after that, willing herself to make as much effort as he did. Because Chan deserved that much.

They would text in-between classes, a mixture of casual jokes and an exchange of anime-related jokes that he kept sending her and causing her to burst out laughing in the middle of her classes. But while she was glad to see that Chan had no grudges to her lack of response, she still tried to steer clear of mentioning Ayeong.

That was starting to become more and more problematic.

Chan: Ayeong is allergic to crab. Did you know that?!

Micha: No

Chan: we went to eat at that snack stand, the one near the skate park we used to go to. She blew up like a goldfish.

Micha would've given anything to see that ridiculous sight. That was quickly overtaken by the stubborn pang of jealousy at the thought of them going to places she visited so frequently with Chan. 

It didn’t stop there. 

A few days later, Chan had texted her about their dinner to his parents' house and her stomach dropped like she'd just fallen down an elevator shaft.

Chan: They loved her. They actually loved her. I think my heart is gonna explode.

Micha had to force out a reply:

Micha: what did your mum cook?

Chan: guess.

Micha: pork ribs and braised beef?

Chan: yess omg! You actually remember. Ayeong loved it. She eats a lot for her size. And dad sat her down after dinner to show off his chess awards. The nerd.

Micha: cool.

Thankfully, her internship started a few weeks later, which meant that it was easier to ignore the glow of happiness in Chan's face and the way he seemed to be drifting away from her arms, slipping through her fingers no matter how much she tried to grasp at the strings of their relationship -- or what seemed to be left of it.

"You sure you don't want to come back home for Winter Break?" Felix asked once when he'd turned up at her shared flat uninvited just as she was closing the door to hurry for her night shift. He’d followed her down the staircase, long legs easily matching her pace as she took two steps at a time. 

“I can’t,” Micha replied breathlessly through her scarf, “I’ve got my internship.”

“Surely you can ask for a few days off? Just for Christmas?” 

"Nope."

Beside her, Felix grumbled, "You're no fun."

"Never said I was."

Micha had to admit that the reason why it hadn't been as hard to ignore the growing hole in her heart where Chan was supposed to be was all due to the three young men standing by her side. As childish as they were, they all had good intentions and it made Micha's heart fill with warmth whenever they did make it obvious that they cared.

Her phone buzzed suddenly just as the pair reached the bus stop. She quickly fished it out of her bag, eyebrows pinching in a frown upon seeing her father's name flashing across the screen.

"Hello?" She gave Felix a shrug when he mouthed whether everything was okay from her side. Nothing. 

She repeated, "hello? Pa? You there?"

"Micha."

Her frown deepened at the sound of her father's voice. He sounded breathless, a tone higher than his usual alto.

"Pa, what's wrong?"

"It's your mother. There was an accident."

. ° ☆ ° .

"What happened?"

Less than six hours later, Micha sat in the hospital corridor right outside her mother's room. She still had on her nurse uniform, completely dismissing all of her responsibilities and obligations the moment her father had informed her of her mother's accident.

If she were to be honest, she wasn't entirely sure how she'd managed to make it back without her knees giving away. But Felix had been there, a silent stone figure at her side as she'd thrown a bunch of clothes in a carry-on suitcase and grabbing the laptop from her shaky hands to book the earliest flight which was to depart in merely two hours.

Nothing had mattered then. Nothing but the need to see her mother and make sure that everything was fine. She didn't remember going through security, didn't even remember the plane taking off while gazing out of the window with a glazed look in her eyes and forcing down all the tears strangling her throat.

Micha's brain only came into focus the moment she was greeted by none other than her father’s face, heavy bags under his eyes and the tip of his nose red. 

Multiple lacerations. A broken femur. Heavy concussion that might result in potential brain damage. Words that Micha knew off by heart, could recite them in her sleep if she wanted to. Words that she’d spent months and endless sleepless nights poring over. 

Words that shot bullets through her, each one leaving an open wound. 

“She was waiting for the bus.” 

Her father’s voice, old and gravelled and shattered, brought her back to the reality of the hospital. His alto strung through the air of the corridor like a tightly coiled string about to snap. 

Micha took a shaky breath.

“I...I was late. At the restaurant. Too many people,” all the time that her father spoke, his gaze was glued to the operation door where Micha’s mother laid as if he could will her back to good health if he stared at it hard enough, “So she went back home first because she had to feed the cat. That stupid cat...If it weren’t--If it weren’t for him she wouldn’t have gotten hit--” he choked on his words, “--by the bus.” 

Cold dread threaded through Micha’s stomach and squeezed so tight she thought she would pass out. Her brain was already trying to put two and two together; finding the solution, figuring out the case, the damage. The solution, the--

“They said there’s little chance that she’ll wake up.” 

Reality struck like cold ice.

“What...” her mouth was dry, “...percentage?”

“fifty-fifty.” 

Her eyes slipped closed, squeezed tight. Silence trailed on with only the bustling sound of medical equipment and a hushed flurry of voices in the distance. 

Do something, her brain screamed at her, just do something! 

There was nothing she could do. Nothing. Her hands clamped into fists so hard her nails stung her palms. All she could do was wait.

So she did.

She must’ve dozed off at some point. Time seemed endless as the hours ticked by and by the time her mother was wheeled out, exhaustion was pulsating through her every muscle, her every limb. She stayed awake long enough to listen to the doctor’s statement, only to storm out in frustration upon realizing that there was no real answer and that the only thing that had been possible to do was stitch up her mother’s wounds as best as they could. 

In short, the doctor himself didn’t know when she’d wake up.

Micha was so intent on walking out for some fresh air that she barely processed a familiar alto calling her name in the distance, until a pair of arms snatched her shoulders back. 

She whipped around, “What?!--”

Her eyes fell upon Chan. 

Time stopped. Her mouth parted. 

Red-faced and with his beanie all the way down to cover himself from the cold, she would’ve barely recognized him if they were passerby’s on the street. But as he stood there with his runny nose and eyes that looked like they’d just cracked open, a wave of emotion hit Micha with such intensity that tears brimmed through her eyes. 

“Felix told me what happened. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, I--”

And that was when Micha broke down into ugly sobs, legs giving away only to be saved by Chan’s arms wounding around her middle to pull her against his chest. 

Amidst it all, she swore she heard her heart breaking.

She wasn’t sure whether it was because of her mother. Or because throughout it all, even in the worst of times, she had come to a realization that knocked the breath out of her. 

She loved Chan. 

. ° ☆ ° .

Tagging: @elysianxshepherd​ @maedesculpaeusoubi​ @missskzbiased​ @freckledquokka​ @allyg-onz​ 

[shoutogepi]

Something to Think About

Todoroki Shouto

word count : 2.0k

[ ☀︎ fluff ]  

themes : tooth rotting sweetness & domesticity

bio : You surprise Shouto, and he surprises you right back.

author’s note : alright so this might be a day late but i’m gonna pretend that it’s still father’s day :))) happy father’s day daddy icyhot <3

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°��� ───

🅂houto is in the kitchen. Contrary to popular belief, he knows how to make more than just soba. Well, at least you hope it’s not soba that he’s making. If that’s the case, it’ll be your fourth meal of cold noodles this week. His back is to you, eyes concentrated on the cutting board atop the marble countertop beneath him, scallions crunching as they’re sliced through with precision.

“Baby?” You start, lingering by the kitchen island with your hands behind your back.

Shouto turns to look at you, a small smile forming on his lips at just the sight of you. He places the knife down, wiping off his slender fingers on the towel strewn over his shoulder. “Hey, love. Didn’t hear you come in— you just get home from work?” He says as he closes the space between you two, hands itching to be on you after not having seen you all day.

Nodding with a hum, your arms wrap around his neck, melting into his broad chest. You can feel the firmness of his muscles through his thin t-shirt, and you grin as a feeling of completeness washes over you. Just simply being in your husband's arms after a long day makes all your worries fade away, his embrace like a gentle tide lapping at you, and cleansing your shore of the stress that is littered there.

Taking his face in your hand, he leans down to press his lips to yours, the metal of your wedding rings cool against his warm cheek. His kiss is soft and sweet, and as you part, he sneaks another peck onto the corner of your mouth. “How was your day?” He whispers, a hand wandering down to splay his fingers at the top of your pants, dipping underneath to press the tips of the digits into your skin.

“It was good,” you answer honestly, leaning back to lock eyes with his stunning gray and cerulean gaze, “but much better now that I’m home, with you.”

Shouto chuckles, stealing another swift kiss before he pulls away, his voice deep and full of affection. “You are so cheesy, my love.” He turns back to the cutting board, the scallions protesting as he finishes chopping them.

Taking a seat on one of the stools at the island, you bite your lip, hands going to fumble through your purse. Where is it… you know you put it in here somewhere…

Your husband throws the end of the stalks into the compost bin, washing the onion juice off his hands at the sink in front of you. His eyes take in your movements with curiosity, and he winks at you when you catch his gaze.

Finally your fingers find the tip of the envelope, and you beam as you slide it out of the confines of your bag. “Hey! I have something for you,” you giggle at the thought of him opening your gift, even if it’s nothing grand. Holding out the envelope to him, he cocks his head to the side as he takes it from you, coming to stand diagonal to you around the island counter.

Shouto doesn’t really know what to expect, though from examining your beaming expression, he’s not fearful to open it. So he does, smirking at you as he rips the blue paper, watching the excitement radiate off of you before he looks down at the card.

Happy Father’s Day!

His heart stops.

Brain going blank, lips parting as his jaw unhinges slightly. And then, his mind is shooting out a million thoughts all at once.

There’s only one reason why you’d be giving him a Father’s Day card—

You’re pregnant?!

You— and him— you’re going to have a baby?

He’s going to be a dad?

And you, you’re going to be a mom?

You’re going to have his baby?

There’s going to be a baby?

A thousand emotions swirl and burst in his chest, like wild, explosive fireworks lighting up a night sky. He feels like he can’t breathe, like the ground has fallen in underneath him, and yet he’s floating here, stuck midair.

“Open it!” You instruct eagerly, completely unaware of the barrage of thoughts that have just pummeled the poor man.

With shaky hands, he opens the card, his lungs completely still as he holds onto his breath, unable to speak.

Thanks for being the most paw-some dad there is! Love, Beans

Shouto nearly collapses as he realizes that the card is supposed to be from your cat. He lets out a trembling breath, eyes frantically flickering over the card again, and again. Just to make sure.

Just to make sure.

“It’s funny, right?” You laugh, blissfully ignorant of the rollercoaster Shouto feels like he’s just been thrown onto; one with no safety bars or seatbelts that demands he holds onto the handles for dear life.

“Y-Yeah.” It slithers out of him, barely even audible. His throat is dry, chest tight as he tries his best to put a name to the hollow feeling inside of him right now.

You look at him in concern, reaching out to rub the side of his arm. “Hey, are you okay?” You murmur, confused as to why his mood would suddenly flip like this. “I’m sorry Beans couldn’t think of a better pun, she’s not very creative y’know?”

As if on cue, Beans enters the kitchen, tail straight in the air as she rubs her head against your ankle, and then her flank on Shouto’s leg.

Jostled out of his consuming thoughts, he reaches down to scratch behind her ear for a moment, brow furrowed. When he stands back up, he makes his way to the stool next to you, sliding into it before he places the card on the counter, and takes your hands in his. His thumbs rub over your knuckles, but he remains silent, lost in thought again.

Craning your neck to get a better view of his pensive expression, you squeeze his hands gently. “Shou?”

At the sound of his name, he locks eyes with you, and for the tiniest second, you swear you catch a distant sadness there. He squeezes your hands back, a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes forming on his lips. He takes a long, deep breath before he speaks. “I’m fine, love. I just— I think I misunderstood at first is all.”

You look at him, bewildered, your mouth opening. “Misunder—” It’s then that your eyes go wide with shock, darting to the front of the card before landing back on him. “Oh my god, Shouto— I am so sorry. That must’ve scared the shit outta you,” you groan, slipping a hand from his to cradle your forehead in shame. “I am so stupid, I can’t believe myself.”

“Hey,” he cuts in, warm fingers wrapping around your wrist to pull your hand away from your face. When your eyes meet his, your stomach bursts with butterflies at his determined expression. “You’re not stupid. It was a cute idea… The execution was a bit questionable, but y’know, Beans isn’t the brightest.”

You smile half-heartedly at that, and Shouto takes your chin in his palm, long fingers stroking your jaw.

“I won’t lie, you did scare me,” he says in a gentle tone, looking at you with sincerity. “I was completely frozen for one whole second. And then, I… wasn’t.”

Licking your lips, you place your hand on his knee, trying to understand where he’s going with this.

Shouto’s looking at you softly, thoughtful eyes peering into you. “For those few seconds, I thought that you were pregnant. And even though the thought initially scared the shit out of me, I don’t know— I… I felt…  excited.”

He’s watching every change in your expression carefully, trying to gauge your response to his words. He takes in your eyes widening, your lips parting in shock. The two of you have talked about this before, about if you’d ever want kids. And at the time, you’d agreed that you both wanted a family, sometime in the future. But that was years ago now, before you were even engaged— it seems like it’s been forever since then.

“I’m not saying I want to jump into anything blindly,” Shouto hurries to find the right words, fearful that you’re thinking he expects you to instantly be ready for such a commitment. “I just mean that, if you were to get pregnant… would it be such a bad thing? I know we said we’d wait to have kids, but that was a while ago, and… now’s as good a time as any, right? You just got promoted, crime is down so my hero work is more steady. I love you, and I know you love me— our home would be the best environment for a baby; full of love and support. I know you’d make the most incredible mother. You’re the only one I can imagine doing this with, my love.”

His heart starts to thump against his ribs when you smile at him, your eyes looking a little glassy. “Shouto,” you whimper, words failing you.

He squeezes your hand again, thumb brushing over your cheek. “You don’t have to say anything, angel. I don’t mean to spring this on you, I just… I needed to tell you. Because for those ten seconds, I felt like I was truly the luckiest person in existence. I already am the luckiest, because I have you. But the premise of you carrying my baby, I— it just filled me with so much joy.”

There’s a brief pause before you force yourself to speak, and it comes out more like a croak. “I don’t even know what to say...” you whisper, tears gathering along your bottom lashes.

Shouto smiles at you, his own eyes misty as he wipes away a tear that runs down your cheek. “Say you’ll think about it, love. Give it some time, we’re in no rush. It’s just something to think about, okay?”

You nod, feeling choked up all of the sudden. The idea of expanding your family had been on the back-burner for so long; now that Shouto’s brought up the reality of it, you’re emotional. And excited, too. “Okay,” you sniffle, pulling on him until he brings you into his lap, shuffling you into his warm embrace. Nuzzling your face into his neck, you breathe him in, trying to steady your rapidly-beating heart. “You smell like onions,” you complain with a watery laugh, fingers curling into his shirt.

“Yeah, sorry,” he chuckles, moving the cooking towel off his shoulder. A large, warm hand runs up and down your spine, his lips touching your forehead delicately. “Some strong scallions I was cutting,” he remarks.

Leaning back, you can’t stop the grin from splitting your lips, your fingers reaching up to wipe the lone tear that escapes despite his best efforts. “I love you,” you murmur, nose touching his as you go in for another kiss.

“I love you too,” he mumbles against your mouth, lips warm and slow on yours. A hand wanders down to rest on your stomach as you kiss, his warmth seeping through the material of your blouse.

You smile against his lips, heart full and nearly bursting at the seams. So he wants to have a baby, huh? Certainly something to think about. Though a part of you already knows that you won’t be stuck just thinking about it for too long.

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

.

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sorpriseeee!! look guys, i can be soft! and no i didnt write this to clear my conscience of the sin from last night whaaa 

i know i rarely write sfw things but idk i’ve been thinking of expanding into fluff and angst lately too (not sayin it’ll always be sfw LOL) so, please let me know if you enjoyed!! <3

➥ masterlist 

𝐂𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐩𝐢 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟎. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[masjestickingdom]

My Little Secret

Pairing: NCT Jaehyun x reader

Genre: Angst 

Summary: Your older sister Janet and you have been close since the moment you were born, according to your parents. Even after you had your fair share of clashes like all siblings, you loved each other and wouldn’t wish for any better. Just one problem: you were a terrible sister with a terrible little secret. 

Note: I’m back! I hope this makes up for my long absence, but the new school year has been killing me. I would like to think that I will update soon, but it seems like that will be impossible. I will try to update whenever I can. 

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    “Excitement” wasn’t the first word that popped in your mind when your sister called you. No, it was the last word you could think of. The nervous tone that occupied her voice when she invited you over to her house messed with your mind. Normally, you would have dreaded visiting her, but that tone had you considering to move to another country. You loved her and was lucky to have a thoughtful, understanding sister like her. In fact, you were too lucky to the extent that you felt guilty for not being able to be more to her like she was to you. But more than that, you were guilty of falling in love with her lifetime partner. And you couldn’t fall out.

    Before you knew it, the clock struck five and you were already making your way across your sister’s lawn. Once you rang the doorbell, your fingers anxiously drummed against the skin of your protected legs.

    “Oh, God,” you murmured as you felt your heart thumping louder and louder, mimicking the intensity of the nearing footsteps. “Please let it be good news.”

    The warm evening breeze met your face as the front door swung open by none other than your sister’s husband and the love of your life Jung Jaehyun.

    “Hey,” the beauty greeted with a warm smile, his dimples now visible. “Glad you could make it.”

    You took a whiff of his honey-like scent as you hugged him, a hug that he initiated and broke. “Well the news sounded important.” You took a moment to note the black-haired man’s uneasy eyes before you continued, “Can I trust that it’s good news?”

    Jaehyun simply gestured you inside and said, “I hope it is.”

    The house was as boring as it always was: homey and clean. The only new embellishment was the carpet that Mark and Doyoung, Jaehyun’s friends and now housemates, ordered for the dining room. The walls were still plain but not naked. There was no evidence of food in the kitchen. The living room was spotless. It was suffocating.

    “So where’s the missus?” You asked, scanning the crazily clean house with your busy eyes.

    A light chuckle left Jaehyun’s lips and you immediately regretted accepting the invitation. Yes, you were that in love with Jaehyun. You were hopeless. You fell in love with him the moment your sister introduced him to you as her boyfriend in your junior year of college, and every living moment with him was sickening because you were reminded that you were in love with your sister’s boyfriend-turned-husband. That went on for you for five years. After five years of living in absolute chaos, you were halfway into your twenties, a time of learning and growth. Unfortunately for you, there was no learning anything other than the fact that your heart was set on one person and that you were a horrible person.

    “She’ll be here soon,” the golden man replied.

    Even though there was a considerable distance between you and him, you could smell his strong natural honey scent, and it bothered you greatly.

    “Picking up Little Jae, isn’t she?” You said, turning your back to the man, whose eyes grew slightly troubled, to scan the pictures that laid proudly in an organized fashion underneath the floating living room television.

    Jaehyung, whom you called Little Jae, was the joy of your sister and Jaehyun and was another source of misery for you. He had his father’s brown eyes in the shape of his mother’s double-lidded, doe-like eyes. His hair was curly, which you had no idea who he inherited that feature from, resembling the curviness of fresh lettuce. Without a doubt you swooned over your adorable nephew, but he was just another reminder that your sister and the love of your life were really starting to have a little family of their own. And you were entering your thirties, miserable and broken and rejecting every single one of the happy family’s frequent invites to dinner.

    “Sorry,” you would tell them. “Maybe next time.”

    There was no “next time”. Not even once. The guilt sank in the first time you lied, but you had gotten used to it. Still, you were never relieved of it.

    “Hey, maybe you can stay over for dinner,” Jaehyun spoke as your eyes jumped back and forth from the unchanging, jolly family pictures. “I’m sure that Jaehyung would love having his aunt stay longer.”

    A little needle pricked the side of your heart, provoking you to spill your darkest secret. At once, an unsettling thought seeped into your mind: Jaehyun suspected that you were intentionally staying away from Jaehyung, but you were certain that the reasons were unknown to him. Or at least you hoped.

    “You know I love him, but I can’t stay to eat,” you said, lying through your teeth. “I’m leaving on a business trip tomorrow. My boss wants me to look over a couple of files before we leave.”

    You did have a business trip. It just wasn’t until the following week, so you were technically partially telling the full story. The depressing photos somehow helped the lies formulate in your mind quicker. Each photo followed the story of Jaehyung’s life, from when he was born up until his third birthday party. It was a way for his parents to “look back at the photos and see just how big he’s grown”, according to your sister. Reliving the moment she told you that over the phone made your stomach churn.

    “Have you guys chosen which photo to frame from LJ’s fourth birthday party?” you said, the words flowing out of you like water, shaking off Jaehyun’s suspicion. “I personally liked the one with the clown in the back. Everyone loves clowns.”

    Harmonious melody filled the room, closer to you than you realized and to which you stepped a few steps to the left.

    “You hate clowns,” Jaehyun exclaimed.

    “No, I’ve grown fond of them,” you corrected, not daring to spare a glance at the dazzling beauty. “They’re not at all creepy.”

    Evidently, you were able to hide your feelings even when you were alone with Jaehyun. So what was the problem? You could hide your feelings forever and no one would know. 

    The music of the keypad reached your ears, giving you time to mentally prepare yourself for the worst part about getting together with your sister and Jaehyun.

    “Auntie!” left the voice of a squealing little boy.

    “LJ!” you exclaimed, your voice mirroring that of the little boy.

    No, engulfing your adorable nephew in a soul-crushing hug wasn’t the worst part. It was the sight of your sister and your crush exchanging a short but warm kiss, their arms wrapped around each other’s torso. You wanted to bolt out of the room.

    As you pulled away from Jaehyung, he looked at you with big, sparkling eyes.

    “Is auntie having a sleepover?” he asked.

    A slithering, intense sensation, otherwise known as guilt, settled in your stomach.

    “I’m sorry, little one,” you answered as your hands found their way to his soft, chubby cheeks. “I have work to do.”

    The sparkle in his eyes slowly withered and his lower lip jutted out. “Auntie always has work.”

    You couldn’t lie: that stung. You didn’t think he would care, but he noticed your unimportant absence from his life the past couple of months. Apparently, you weren’t as invisible as you thought you were to him.

    To fill in the silence that overpowered you, your sister pitched, “It’s because Auntie’s very important to the company.”

    A small smile rested on your face. It had been too long since you last stepped into your sister’s house. Before you stood up to greet your sister, you promised Jaehyung that you would stay for longer the next time you visited. With that simple remark, the excitement in his eyes reappeared. As he left to wash his hands, your sister practically jumped on you, squeezing your waist tightly.

    “I’m so glad that you could make it,” she said, crushing the life out of you.

    But you sensed the tension in her voice. “What’s the thing you have to ask me in person?”

    Your sister immediately released her hold of you and offered a nervous smile.

    “Want to get to that now, huh?”

    With a small nod in response from you, your sister motioned you over to the living room area. It wasn’t one second into silence once you were all seated and you could already feel the tension heightening. Leaning back into the couch, you let your eyes wander to Jaehyun’s hands reaching out to your sister’s, to which you quickly averted your eyes to your sister’s, fearing that one slip would give you away.

    “So what’s up?” you asked less cheerily than you wanted.

    You watched your sister glance at her husband before her eyes landed on yours. She was sitting a few feet away from you, but her eyes radiated with such anxiety that you felt obligated to send an encouraging nod.

    “Come on, it can’t be that bad,” you said, the words secretly meant for you more than for the couple.

    Once she cleared her throat, your sister started, “You see, I’m leaving on a business trip for a month. I’m gonna be out for a couple of weeks, so I want you to do me a favor.” After a short pause and briefly examining any change of emotion in you, she continued, “I want you to look after Jaehyung.”

    A questionable expression immediately appeared all over your face as you leaned forward, wondering if you heard the right thing.

    “What?”      

    Jaehyun’s melodious voice filled your ears, drowning the sound of Jaehyung’s loud stomping in the background. “We figured Mark and Doyoung could help take care of Jaehyung, but you know their schedules are unpredictable.”

    A small, nervous smile appeared on your sister’s beautiful face. “What do you say?”

    Forcing yourself to pry your eyes from hers, you hoped to ward off the burdensome guilt that silently crept up on your shoulders. To your luck, your eyes landed on Jaehyung. He was playing happily with his toy truck, driving it back and forth with his mini hands.

    “Jaehyung’s really excited to spend a few weeks with his favorite aunt,” your sister tried to appeal.

    “I’m his only aunt,” you plainly replied, shaking your head. Mustering the courage to direct your gaze at Jaehyun, you asked, “And what will Jaehyun be doing?”

    “It’ll be the first time Janet will be leaving me with our child,” the golden boy explained. “I would feel a lot better and safer if I had someone help me.”

    That hit home. The growing guilt in your heart clouded your thoughts. You couldn’t dare say yes in fear that you would only do it for the wrong reason, to spend time with Jaehyun which was ironically the reason why you avoided meeting the happy family in the first place.

    “So I’ll be babysitting two babies.”

    At that, your sister’s face brightened. “You’re not immediately rejecting it.”

    Meanwhile, at the irresistible call of his name, Jaehyun left his spot next to your sister to fulfill his son’s desire to play airplane.

    You took that chance to relax and calmly tell your sister, “You know I love Jaehyung.”

    “But?”

    “You’re asking me to do something that I can’t do,” you revealed.

    A sudden gloom took over your sister’s face very noticeably. “Why can’t you do it?”

    You tried to reason with her in the most convincing tone you could. “You know that I’ll be swamped with work. I can’t possibly help look after Jaehyung when I have my own agenda to carry out.”

    The room hushed, the sounds of Jaehyung’s laughter far off in the distance.

    “Why do you always reject opportunities to hang out with Jaehyung?”

    And time stood still. You swore you felt your heart stop beating for a second.

    Wracking your brain for excuses, you quickly spat out, “Janet, you know the work I do demands a lot of my time.”

    The look on your sister’s face made you sick to your stomach. You were the worst aunt and sister to exist. Okay, you weren’t the worst aunt and sister in the history of the worst aunts and sisters, but you were horrible in comparison to your upbeat, supportive parents, sister, and relatives. In your family, you were the epitome of inadequacy, and it slapped you in the face, written in big, bold words on your forehead, when you witnessed the look of despair in your sister’s expression. The strings of your heart tugged.

    “Janet,” you called out softly.

    “Did I do something wrong?” she asked quietly, avoiding your gaze.

    Sometimes, you couldn’t believe that she was older than you. She was never a strong-headed older sister. She was more of the gentle and calm type, which complemented her inherent happy- spirited nature, which was why you were known to be the firm one of the both of you. But she always managed to bring out the little, soft, immature child trapped inside of you.

    “Janet, you did nothing wrong,” you exclaimed. “Don’t let this situation have that thought ever sneak into your mind like that again.”

    “Then why don’t you accept our invitations?”

    The lying thread you held on to slightly slipped from your grasp. Slightly. With a heavy heart, you cautiously told her this:

    “I’m single.”

   You simply confessed that you were reminded of your singleness. That, you being single, you were. However, you were more shallow than that, but she didn’t need to know that. Especially not after when the life in your sister’s eyes came back, lit brighter than before.

    “How about we set you up on a date?”  

    Of course, that was the moment your golden boy conveniently decided to return with his son’s hands soundly wrapped inside of his.

    “A date?” the father echoed, occupying the empty seat he left, with Jaehyung seated on his lap.

    “She’s been feeling lonely,” your sister explained vaguely.

    A deep frown rested on your face. “Hey, don’t make me sound desperate.”

    Jaehyung squirmed his way out of his father’s lap and hopped over to yours, melting your heart yet weighing you down.

    “Actually, there’s this fundraising event our company’s hosting,” Jaehyun said, looking at you with the softest, encouraging eyes you had ever seen. “I could introduce you to someone there.”

    Of course, there was no spark. After all, you weren’t his girl. He belonged to the girl who shouted, “Honey, that would be great!”

    You didn’t want to be with anyone. You wanted to be with you-know-who, but the one guy you so badly were in love with was taken. In fact, you loved him so much that if you couldn’t have him, you wanted to leave the world as your single self.

    You zoned out from the side conversation your sister and Jaehyun were having, not really listening to your sister bombard her husband with questions about the eligible co-workers. Jaehyung played with the fabric of your jeans, scratching his nails against them back and forth. You took a deep breath in to calm your mind, but you instead smelled the rubbed scent of honey from Jaehyung’s hair. Before you knew it, your hands were delicately brushing through the soft curls. You listened to Jaehyung happily hum to a familiar tune. It was the song you used to sing to him before you started rejecting the dinner invitations. An overwhelming wave of nostalgia swept over you. The red thread began to become even looser.

    Right then and there, it became clear to you: you loved your sister and Jaehyung, but you had to move on from your forbidden love. It wasn’t fair for them, the sweetest people you knew, to have a liar in their lives. The least you could do to start moving on was to go to that one event.

    “Alright,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll go.”

    The tension in the room that was present the moment you arrived vanished.

    “And you’ll take care of Jaehyung?” your sister asked with expectant eyes.

    “I’ll take care of Jaehyung.”

    A sudden squeal escaped from your sister’s innocent mouth as she rushed over to you, attacking you with a hug and leaving Jaehyung with no choice but to return to his father before he could be crushed. You let your sister embrace you, swaying your bodies side to side, and inhaled her citrus perfume. Everything was gonna be fine, you told yourself. Everything was ought to be fine.

    “Do you want to stay over for dinner at least?” your sister asked, pulling away from the warm embrace. “I have ingredients for pasta.”

    Torture found itself on your lips as you said, “I have a business trip to prepare for tomorrow.”

    When the time came, you hugged everyone goodbye--even Jaehyun. It was without a doubt hurting you, but you knew that it was the first step: if you wanted to move on, you had to accept Jaehyun’s presence without calculating possible slips. Before they could see you out, Jaehyung had already caused trouble by spilling tomato sauce all over the kitchen floor. You smiled at the couple insistently and shooed them away, telling them that you would go on ahead, but before you closed the door, you couldn’t help but look back at the small family. They were laughing off Jaehyung’s mistake, wiping the sauce over each other’s face. Jaehyung shrieked when your sister began tickling his tummy while Jaehyun attacked his neck. And you shut the door quietly behind you. 

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Update: My Little Secret (Part 2) is out! Check it out here. 

[mrneighbourlove]

Evil’s Bane: Ch 10. Evil Anew

The World felt out of balance. Leere was so weak, her mind spinning back into consciousness. The first thing she felt was a stinging sensation in her wrists. Her arms were being held up by a chain, with torturous cuffs digging into her wrists to keep her hands together. She could barely have to strength to move her legs. When she did, she discovered that she could, the Mortuus woman felt a draft. Was she naked? She didn’t have her robes. They at least took her coat and shirt off. Maybe her pants were taken too. She was too numb to tell. Even moving slightly, she grimaced at the immediate pain that followed in her wrists. Blood dripped from her fingers to the floor, and Leere finally saw the pentagram that’s surrounded her. “Oh god.”

Looking around her, there were four obelisks, and straight ahead, the Destroyer himself.

"What? Going to call out to my brother now?" Destroyer was occupied finishing the text on the Obelisks for the ritual. His own claws were digging out the symbols from the stone. All this death and decay and he did not even flinch. "Go ahead. Prama's host is rather busy right now, so I highly doubt he'll come running. Though there's plenty of other deities or spirits or whatever you wish to call them to cry to as well. Makes this so much more fun." He then said, "Better yet, why not ask Tzitzmime to have mercy on you? Perhaps he'll be in a good mood today."

“What do you think you’re doing to me?” Leere sounded tired, mostly because she was, but she still had spunk in her voice.

"I'm simply preparing a feast for Tzitzmime." Destroyer answered as his tail then started to draw a line to connect the Obelisks. He walked the pentagram, making sure everything was in place. After this was finished, he could see Kaksa once more. It would be him and her for all eternity. "I have to be a good host now, don't I?"

Leere grimaced, feeling the tattoo on her back vibrate very slowly. “You want to unleash the horror in me, don’t you? Why?” She looked up bitterly into the eyes of the god. “What can you possibly gain from it?”

"I get the pleasure of seeing that snake wail at the realization of he can't save you." Destroyer had a disturbing grin creeping across his visage. "And relish in Prama's failure. The Anagari will come slithering, trying to be your 'knight in scale-covered armor', and risk exposing Prama. When the fool does, I'll be able to rip my brother from the Anagari's body." He held up his razor sharp claws. "Interesting biological component of these Drakkan. They can use the most ancient of all magic... soul magic. Transfer the very essence of a living creature. With the Anagari so weak, I will be able to use this energy I have saved for hundreds of years to end my brother."

Leere felt hope slipping away. Was this the end of her life’s journey? To fail spectacularly?

No.

Even if she was, she wasn’t going to sink into despair. She still had her grit and her spirit. And she wouldn’t die letting him have emotional satisfaction. “Too bad that as a Drakken you look like an ass. Can’t imagine you can get laid either. I mean, it would be the most logical conclusion. You could never get your claws on your precious Kaksa. So why this life too?” When Leere saw him twitch, she smiled evilly best she could. “I bet your brother fucked her good. They were lovers after all. And even as a snake, he’s still a charming lover. I should know. I bet you can’t even pronounce sex you pathetic, little man. Must be why Kaksa didn’t love you. You’re so little.”

Destroyer did not like her speaking of Balance in such a way. No mere human could understand his story. It was just the three of them for eons. She would give her love to Maker and to him equally. Though for the longest time, maybe just a year or maybe a millennium, she did not return to his side and he despaired. What did his brother have that he did not? Was it because he was of the dark? Was all darkness considered bad? No one would ever know or comprehend, even it if would be a relief to share his frustration.

"Insult me all you wish; it will not change your fate. I'm not stupid like my brother. I will not act upon emotions."

“Fool. You might not be emotional, but you are stupid if you think killing me will bring you any closer to your precious Kaksa.”

"Oh, I know it won't. Killing my brother will." Destroyer seemed so bitter towards Maker. "But killing you will be fun."

Now within range of her face, Leere spat a hunk of saliva into his eye. “How’s that for fun?”

"... I was going to start with your finger nails, though I suppose I could begin with a tongue or your eye."

Leere cracked her finger best she could with the cuffs on. “Do your worst.”

Destroyer was by no means ever merciful. He started with Leere's painted finger nails, removing them one by one. Sometimes, on purpose, he'd leave half of a nail and deem he made an error and had to take off the rest as well just to spite her. Then, he worked on her toes. Before long, all of her nails were decorating the floor. When that pain was not enough to rouse the demon from slumber, he decided to try a different type of torment. Over and over, she was made to watch the death of her loved ones.

Every nail broken off was a spurt of blood. Pain became an abundance to Leere. This commodity was fuel to four obelisks in the room, syphoning it from her. When the mental torment of her family came, and in raw creative ways, Leere wanted it to come to an end. Seeing Rinku, Zelda, Covarog, Sunny, and all the others suffer and day was agonizing. “Fuck. You!”

"Seriously, is that the best insult you can do? So often it is used, never followed up on. Not my type, for sure." Destroyer held up a large pair of rusty scissors. "I wonder how much more it will take for you to break."

“You. Can’t. Break me.” Leere was breathing heavily to keep her mind relatively sane.

"Are you sure about that?" Destroyer nearly chuckled at her defiant attitude. "You're not the first that I've tortured and won't be the last. Many of your fellow Mortuus have broken before me. I have pulled horrors that you have never even fathomed from the shadows that my brother tossed aside."

“Vile beast. You lost before for a reason. You will do so again...”

As Destroyer was ready to continue, two robed figures with grey feathery wings floated down next to Leere. Putting two bracelets and a crown of fangs on her, they started to chant an unknown language. The Shadow man whispered gently into the Destroyers ear. “Your brother draws near. You and your minions must stop him and the wrath from interfering. When my other half is freed, my connection to this avatar will be lost. But make no mistake, I am coming here to see my work complete.”

"So… he is coming..." Destroyer sounded most amused. "I was rather uncertain of whether he would or not. Or perhaps, is it the creature that is coming for the 'tiny princess' he holds so dear? Oh well, the snake did try to warn her. Prama probably showed him all of what was to be seen of her fate."

The two-winged cultists started to chant. From outside a dome surrounding Leere, others gathered from Mortuus to monsters chanted in a hellish pray. The bracelets on Leere’s arms sparked on, and the crown on her head sunk into her skull. As Leere was shocked, and the fangs on her head sunk deeper, a terrible scream radiated outwards.

~

A flash of white. Leere was standing in Hryrule field. The sun was shining, but every animal was dead. In front of her the ground opened up. She fell and---

~

A flash of white. Decay and blood poured under her legs with the force of a raging creek. A mirror lying in front of her showed her true reflection. How old she was. As Leere pushed her legs against the blood to be not swept away, she looked closer at a movement behind her. She peered closer to see the blank pale face and the eyes of---

~

A flash of white. A void of emptiness. It was so white. It had no sound, no image, no feeling. In the distance, Leere saw a figure holding themselves close. They were a shaky silhouette. Turning with white eyes, it flickered. Leere’s soul flickered. It was time. It was the end.

~

All over the Tower of Death, Bonegrinder and Black had teleported, hoping to find Leere. However, like a signal bouncing around, they couldn’t lock onto her easily. Just as they were giving up hope, they saw a flashing pillar of blue light. Eager cultists were running forward, and as they stepped into the light, they were flown upwards into a glowing hole in the roof.

"It's started..." Bonegrinder felt a sense of dread tighten in his chest. "We are too late..."

"... is there any chance we can still save her?"

"If the demon doesn't consume her, then perhaps we can. You must be ready to fight."

"I always am."

Behind them, coming out of the wall as if being birthed from it, the Abomination was still giving chase. All six eyes board in on them. They had two choices. Run up the beam, or stay and fight.

"This thing just doesn't give up." Black sounded irritated.

"A Hellspawn of the Second Ring of Hell never stops." Bonegrinder slithered as fast as he could, going up the beam with Black right alongside him. "Personally, he detests the ones of the First Ring the most."

"And that's not a First?"

"No, if a Nameless was here, we'd both be in trouble."

"Hey, I thought you knew all sorts of magic."

"He does."

"So just magic it away."

"Only the one who calls the demon can do that. Or a Summoner."

"... great."

The ‘Angel’ drew close. Its six clawed talons suddenly glew a menacing purple, and it drove them at Black. As one nicked him, a deep sickness flew through the Wrath. Something that shouldn’t be possible was.

It was as if Black was suddenly paralyzed. He could not move and slammed harshly into the ground. Groaning, the Wraith tried to will his body to function, but he could not do so. Even lifting a finger was unsuccessful. As the creature tried to descend upon him, Bonegrinder's huge tail whacked the fiend away. Snarling at the demon, the Anagari maneuvered the Wraith onto his coils, out of harm's way. "You won't interfere." The Anagari curled the tip of his tail around the fiend's ankle and crushed it with a sickening snap. With that, it stopped its movements. For now.

As Bonegrinder and Black flew up the beam, they gave themselves ample time to flee as the Abomination recovered. It was a silent trip up, every second filling with more and more dread. At the top, they found themselves on the outside of a dome. Inside, Leere was floating upwards now. The Obelisk was burning bright with energy. Suddenly, complete nothing filled the ears of all in witness. It was then the Obelisk fired out a beam, killing all the cultists who wished to be sacrificed. Leere was flipped over with her back exposed. The tattoo on her back was glowing, with blood pouring onto the ground below. Outside the dome a whirlwind was starting to storm, red blood sky being torn by the wind. The final step to the ritual began.

Bonegrinder had managed to use a touch of Prama's magic to undo the effect of the fiend's poisoning on Black. The Wraith could now move again, but felt like he was dragging. There was hardly any energy for him to spare. He would be of no use fighting hardly. As the demonic magic started to fill the air, the Anagari nearly panicked. This was not supposed to be happening. He gently set down Black on a high ledge, hopefully to protect him from danger and rushed forward. Slamming his fists on the dome, he repeatedly struck at the structure.

"YOU LET HER GO!!!" He bellowed. "You want this snake!!! Come get him! You leave her out of it!!! Dhakk!!! He knows you hear him!!!"

"Ah, dear brother, you finally arrive to show!" Destroyer was on the other side of the dome completing his work. "A little late, as always, but better than never."

"He is here! You release her! This snake has seen a thousand deaths and he refuses to see another!"

"It seems Prama is still silent? Too cowardly to come and face me?" Destroyer played dumb, tapping his chin with a single finger. "Or perhaps... he's still not at his full power?"

"You are not capable of your full abilities either, Dhakk!" Bonegrinder snapped at him. "That will not happen until the day of prophecy!"

"Oh, you and that stupid prophecy, do you honestly believe Balance will come after Prama? After me? It's nonsense."

"You know she will! She is the Mother Goddess! She will strike down Chaos and restore harmony to the world!"

"Not if I can help it. This world will be consumed by Chaos and with you out of the way, Balance and I can live peacefully without the hassle of meddling affairs of a mortal world in the void."

From outside the dome, waking through the storm, a familiar voice shouted out to them. Sheer-Khan trotted through the bellowing wind, slowly making his way to the Hive leader. “Bonegrinder! We must abandon our station here! Open a portal to Hyrule! We must flee, now!”

"Kit!!!" Bonegrinder was relieved to see that Hades was still here. He had sensed his life was still there, but it was so hard to know for sure in this cursed land. "He is so glad to see you! Please, help him break through! Leere needs us! If the ritual is completed, then Tzitzmime will have another part of his whole joined!"

Lightning crackled, and Hades gently laid a hand on Bonegrinder’s shoulder. “She is lost. But we might be able to rally the rest of Hyrule’s Warriors. You must hurry. You are the only one able to open a portal home.”

"He cannot leave her!!! Don't you understand, Kit?! She's a key! If this is completed, Chaos can take hold of the world before he is scheduled to do so!" Bonegrinder pleaded with Hades. "Help this old snake stop the ritual! There is still time! He can suppress the demon!"

As Bonegrinder turned to break down the dome, Hades grabbed his massive metal club. With a sigh, he swung two critical blows. One strike struck Black. The force of the swing against a body his size made him fly high into the storm as if he was nothing more than an ace in the hole. The second blow was brought down on Bonegrinder’s head, caving in his skull, his brain, and his spinal cord. The concentrated explosion tore down the rest of his nerves along his massive coil. Hades sighed, carefully holding down Bonegrinder’s body. “.... You forced my hand. You stupid bastard. I didn’t want it to come to this. You should have listened to your heart and never should have come here. Now I have to play this disgusting role to its fullest depravity.”

Black had tried to rush forward to save Bonegrinder but Hades had swatted him away. The storm picked up the Wraith and threw him around, but he was still conscious. Finally, Black was able to grab onto a tower's spire and managed to climb inside. He was still here. He would find his way back to his master.

Bonegrinder, however, was out cold. Not moving. But still alive due to the deity inside of him.

“I know you can hear me, you wretched god. This is your doing. You denied me my most simple request. You brought my friend here. You allowed the gods and goddesses to fall out of Balance. My friend could have waited in the Hive while the world was recreated in blissful ignorance. But no. Now I must ensure he stays down for this.” Leere gurgled, a small cry leaving her throat, the Obelisk shining a light on her. Great new lengths had been taken to bring new conditions for the ritual, but it was finally done.

Bonegrinder was a creature of magic and violence when he desired. Sometimes, mere mistaken words or a careless action might agitate him into a rage. Many thought it was due to his split personality. The Anagari showed the side of his usual self, 'Modoc', and then other times, the true, cruel nature of 'Bonegrinder'. Yet, those who knew him throughout the years, had learned that he was one not to mess with or else there would be consequences. There was very little patience in the Anagari except for those he held dear.

Prama, for all his glory and splendor, had no patience. With Bonegrinder's mind silent from the blow to the head, the deity took over his host's body. The divinity inside of him was much stronger and could use his strength through the Anagari's body... but with some consequences for his host later. It was not an action he did often. Those large coils curled around Hades' body and one large hand snatched at the Lynel's throat. "Treacherous creature..." Prama's voice held no love for the creation of Dhakk. In full control, the Anagari's body was radiating powerful celestial magic, floating in particles around the snake. His eyes were glowing white, narrowed and angry. He always thought Lynels were rather haughty. And then one made the mistake of striking his host. "I will scald you into ash."

Hades opened his mouth, blasting the god in the face. His arms still free to move, he brought the power down on the body once more. “You could have resurrected my species! Instead you told me that they should stay dead. A being of creation too spineless to create! You should never have inhabited Modoc’s body!”

Squeezing tighter and tighter with the Anagari's coils, Prama did not let go. The deity did not feel pain. This was not his true body. His magic kept healing the damage. Returning a blow of his own to Hades' face, he kept repeating the same move, punch after strike after blow. "All things come to an end, and my brother is the one who decides that." Prama spat at Hades. "If you're angry about it, argue with him, not me. You should be grateful that the snake took you in, looked after you. Who else would have done so with a despicable species such as yourself?"

“You brought all his pain upon him. You... you alone.” Unlike the god, Sheer-Khan could not regenerate. The feline’s face looked like a tumour by the time that Prama was done. “Modoc would have... helped me. Now watch as you fail....” Before the Lynel went limp, he pointed to Leere.

~

Agony and suffering radiated through every nerve of Leere. Chanting echoed in the chamber, and brimstone sizzled from her back. With an explosion of blood and flesh, Leere’s eyes rolled back. From the pentagram on her back, something crawled out. The moment it did, two things happened. The night sky itself cracked open, bleeding the heavens. The second was that the sail of a baby rang out to all who heard it. As Leere fell to the ground, a little pinkish piece of flesh crawled on the ground. It had the upper body of a baby with its eyes sewn shut. Its lower body was a slug, flapping back and forth like a fish out of water. Every wail was cosmic torture to the ears. Schwanz des Teufels: Tyrannin was reborn into the mortal world.

________________________________________________________________

Previous Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626630162211028992/evils-bane-ch-9-everyone-has-something-to-lose

Next Ch. https://mrneighbourlove.tumblr.com/post/626632248299536384/evils-bane-ch-11-rage-against-the-dying-of-the

[stedes-black-bonnet]

My Baby Does Me: Chapter 9

POV: John Deacon x reader

Notes: Ongoing fic, want on the tag list? Let me know. Bit more Roger here than the others, evens out a bit in the end, leading to some heavy Deacy x reader action for the next chapter (patience is a virtue?)

Warnings: idk Roger has some dirty thoughts? Drinking?

Abstract: Roger can’t make up his mind; Brian notices what's missing from his life; Freddie and Jim attempt to push you and a certain bassist closer together.

Roger Taylor had met his match. He was certain; he was in denial. Well, this kind of thing, a permanent attachment, wasn’t in the stars for him. He was certain of that. He was also in denial about it. His honed hands pulled Lydia on to his lap. Her slippery red dress flowed over his legs, obscuring them from view. His vigorous fingers traced up Lydia’s thighs. He was drawing on her in the same way he was drawing his own conclusions about his own life. Which was to say, more or less randomly. He had yet to meet anyone capable, he thought, of reining him in. He had never really had reason to not partake of as many ladies as there were names for them.

No perfect Goddess in Red was going to change his mind on this. Sure, she was witty, gorgeous, sensuous, she was bloody well perfection walking in the night. He felt like she was always one step ahead of him and instead of being irritated by that quality--like he was with a certain John Deacon--he found it consumingly desirable. He wanted to be challenged by someone. Maybe Lydia was just the person to swing into his life and alter it forever? Maybe he should just leave well enough alone and be alone forever, doing whatever he pleased with whomever he pleased to do it with? She was something else entirely, though. A game changer.

He was certain. He was in denial.

Lydia was daring, uncouth. She was aware of it, knew people either hated her or envied her for it. He adored this about her. Her ability to just not care. He, perhaps, cared a bit too much. Roger had a temper. That was the negative way of putting it, and, in fact, when people said he had a temper, or tried talking to him about his temper, if often put him in a sour mood and caused him to have a temper. Rather, he liked to think of himself as passionate. He’d throw televisions as often as he threw words; they were one and the same for him; they were a means to an end. And Lydia was a very beautiful means to an end.

There was something about her though. Something usually tantalizing. Some forgotten whisper that said to him she was the kind of woman to keep beyond tonight, beyond one night. A keeper. No, best not to go there, he thought to himself. Denial was useful. Or was it? He was in denial about denial now. Great. This was, he was certain, Lydia’s fault. He had met her yesterday, and, he’d need Bri to explain it to him later, but he swore when he saw her, everything stopped but her. Her hair, he recalled the most. It had been blowing in the breeze of a fan, each tendril reaching out to him like a helping hand. Each caresses of each tress was an invitation. Come to me, it said. He was certain of it.

And he certainly wanted to come to her.

She was so captivating he took his sunglasses off to really look at her. She had been wearing a lilac-colored flowing top that slithered over her body like leather. She had this quality to make even gauzy, floating fabrics sing on her skin. It was as if even something as blasé as fabrics wanted to be close to her. Everything, everyone wanted to be close to Lydia. Of this, Roger was also certain. He wanted to be close to her. Close enough to breathe in the scent of her skin, taste her sweat. Close enough to mingle his with hers.

She hadn’t noticed him yet, Roger was certain. Chatting with someone else, though he couldn’t recall details outside of her. Man or woman, it didn’t matter which, he did remember feeling jealous of whoever she was talking to; she should be talking to him. Maybe she should be talking to him forever.

In the club, they finally locked eyes, and he couldn’t remember his name.

His name.

He couldn’t remember his name.

At 32, he figured remembering his name would be routine by now. He had taken for granted, he guessed, the value of being able to instantly recall his own name. He was in denial, though. He was in Queen, one of the most famous bands in the world. He played the drums, wrote some songs, and sang with the best singer any rock-band has ever had. But what exactly what his own name? How many drinks had he had? Five? Maybe six? It was his first night back from tour, and he was letting go to be sure, but he had never forgotten his own name.

Or had he? No, he was certain he hadn’t and he was even more certain it had nothing to do with the alcohol. He wasn’t an amateur, after all.

He’d have to go to her. He finished off his gin, slid the glass down the bar. It was undeniably a slick move.

Then, before he could actually make his move, before he could walk even a pace, she started moving towards him.

Roger was stunned. He couldn’t move. Great. Now he couldn’t move or remember his name. What exactly was happening to him?

He was the kind of person who approached people, not the kind of person who was approached. It was a self-confidence thing, he thought. His confidence came from actions and making bold choices, and in a split second acting on them. He was thrown off by this reversal of fortune. Simultaneously attracted and afraid of her boldness, frozen to the spot, his appreciation and desire for her grew by the second.

Her dauntlessness did not help him recall his name, however. What if I can’t remember it by the time she gets to me? Leaning up against the bar, he tried to look cool, effortless, and coherent. He wasn’t the kind of person who had to try to look like any of those things, however. He just simply was cool, calculatingly so; he was effortless, easy to laugh and to make others laugh; he always had a comeback and would fight to the hilt in any argument; he had a reputation for drinking too much, partying too much, seducing too much, and good on him, he thought. The only problem here wasn’t his myriad appetites. The problem was that he was vastly intelligent on top of it all.

He was labeled the pretty one, and not the smart one. He had a brain, though he didn’t always have to resort to using it to get what he wanted; therefore, his means to challenging himself, to being entertained, increased in danger and intrigue over the years to satiate an unknown wish to be of use, to be challenged, to be seen as more than another stereotypical pretty rock-star.

Sizing up Lydia, he thought, brains or looks, which to use to win her?

The mistake was his, he’d find out later. Because they were birds of a feather in this respect; brians and dashingly good looks mixed in one vessel. A deadly combination in the right hands, he was certain. Maybe, he’d let her pick, let her speak first.

Lydia reached him, and stared at him. She said nothing, just looked at the only man worth looking at in the entire club. She raised a contoured eyebrow at him, silently asking him if the cat had his tongue.

“I’m afraid you have possession of something that is mine,” Roger Taylor said.

“Oh, what would that be? Your heart?” She rolled her eyes at him. She’d heard every line before. With each passing second he was disappointing her. She thought the great Roger Taylor would be different.

“My tongue,” he grinned at her.

It was her turn to be shocked now; she hadn’t expected that retort.

“I’d like it back,” he said, holding a hand out to her, presumably for his tongue back.

She took his hand, “Well, Roger Taylor, if I give it back to you, what will you do with it?”

Roger Taylor, right. He thought, “Well, come to my party tomorrow night, and I’ll show you. Beauty like yours should be shared.”

“Alright,” Lydia said. She brought his hand up to her mouth, and licked the back of it.

It was the most brazen act he had ever seen, ever been party to, and he couldn’t get enough of it--he couldn’t get enough of her. He wanted more.

Lydia let go of his hand, “Lydia Wesmor.”

“Roger Taylor,” he said.

“Yes, I know.” She said.

Did he know then she was everything he was looking for in a partner without knowing what he was looking for in the first place? Probably not, but he was a man in denial, after all. He told her the address of Garden Lodge, suggested she bring a friend, and put his baby blue sunglasses back on. He turned around to order drinks for them at the bar, but when he turned around to ask what she wanted, she was gone from sight.

Did I imagine her, he thought?

He kept tracing his fingers up Lydia’s thighs, pushing the boundaries as far as she’d allow him to. They were in public, after all, and in Freddie and Jim’s bedroom no less. Even though the band was used to this kind of behavior from him, he didn’t want to push boundaries with them too far right now; things were tense among the band these days.

It was the ridiculous disco album they were cutting, Roger thought. He didn’t want to think about it right now. No, right now he wanted to think about Lydia’s thighs, and what was between them, and how much he wanted to be between them.

Roger looked at her lips, then. Painted red, they were a toreador’s cape and he wasn’t strong enough to resist the urge to chase them. He wanted her. Though for how long, he couldn’t decide. His heart had already made up its mind on the matter, but he didn’t want to listen to his heart to right now. His heart only got him in trouble. And even though right now he wanted to be very naughty, he didn’t want to be in trouble. The difference was subtle, but not to him, to him it was a clear line. So, he pushed the sighs of his heart to the side, at least for tonight.

Over Lydia’s shoulder he saw Freddie’s arm slip from his knee and cascade into Jim’s. He saw Freddie trace the green seam in Jim’s pants, and soon they held hands. Freddie and Jim, how could Roger ever live up to them? God’s own bloody love story on bloody earth, he thought. Maybe it was better to not feel for others, to not have attachments, to not fall in love. But, they looked so happy, staring into each other’s eyes behind Lydia’s back.

Jim kissed Freddie’s hand.

A melancholic look flashed in Roger’s eyes, and he knew his heart wanted that kind of intimacy with someone. That tender gesture was so different from when he had met Lydia and she had licked his hand. Or was it? Maybe it was the same? This was a dangerous path, he thought.

He shook his head, in denial. “Lydia,” he said, “Can I take you away from these Queens?”

“Lay on, MacDuff,” Lydia challenged.

Roger Taylor, a man determined to not make up his mind yet, lifted Lydia into the air. She squealed playfully. He was stronger than he looked. He spun her around, and slowly, so slowly lowered her to the ground. Her feet touched the floor, and she looked up at him, smiling.

What was she thinking, he thought? Can she see right through me? He had never felt more invisible.

He was in denial again, because, for Lydia, he was all she saw.

She put her hand in his, ready for anything. Roger pulled her towards the doorway.

“If this is losing sardines, I must adopt the losing temperament more often.” Roger gloated to the room at large.

“That’d be a first,” Brian said, from his armchair.

Roger, leading Lydia through the doorway, heard Deacy singing behind him, “Ooh I need your loving…”

Freddie’s clear voice joined Deacy’s, “Ooh I need your loving tonight!”

Roger thought he’d still have the last laugh tonight.

Watching your friend leave with the one and only Roger Meddows Taylor, you found yourself thinking of John Deacon. You let your gaze return to him.

Deacy had been watching Freddie and Jim, a strange expression on his face, but his eyes flicked fast onto yours when he sensed you looking. A small smiled spread across his face.

“Are you all always like this?” You asked, intrigued.

“More or less,” Deacy said.

“A bit more lately, to be honest.” Brian added lightly. There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Any particular reason?” You questioned.

“Yes,” Brain said, “Though now isn’t the time to get into it.” He stood from his chair, and walked over to Freddie and Jim. “A great party as always, Fred.”

Freddie stood and hugged one of his oldest friends. Brain then hugged Jim. He turned to you, and extended his hand to you. “It really was a pleasure meeting you, Y/N. I hope we will see each other again soon.”

You stood to shake his hand, “I hope we do too, Brian.”

Deacy danced up to Brian to say goodnight.

“Don’t get into too much trouble, Deacy.” He said cheekily.

“There you go, confusing me for Rog, again.” Deacy shook his head, and hugged Brian.

Brian turned and walked through the bedroom door and out into the hallway beyond. His mind was buzzing. What a bizarre night! Full of new people, two in particular seemed to be likely to stick around, he thought. Two new women. It was so painfully easy for his friends to meet people. They all seemed to meet people wherever they went these days. Maybe meet wasn’t the right word, he reasoned. His friends seemed to easily become acquainted, instantly delve into knowing the people they’d meet. Brian would often fumble around his words around new people; he needed time to warm up, to get comfortable around people. Fred and Rog--even the quiet-as-a-game Deacy--took to people as easily as people took to them. It was, more or less, natural for them. Brian always had to work at it.

Brain marveled at their abilities to make themselves at home in any situation. He much preferred the company of animals to people. Maybe he just hadn’t met the right people yet. The right person, he thought. He wasn’t precisely lonely. But he did notice a vacancy in his life that had nothing to do with his robust friendships. Roger was his best friend. They couldn’t be more different in some respects. Here he was, leaving Fred’s party alone, while Roger was leaving with another stunning woman on his arm. People rarely made sense; this was why he enjoyed physics. Everything had its place and if one factor was obstructed, or flawed, it showed, and was easily solved. You couldn’t just solve people. Especially not his friends. They were all so confusingly different and splendid. Brain didn’t want to think of what life would be life without them; even on the days when they were fighting more than creating music, he still loved them. He wouldn’t change them for the world. Though he wouldn’t mind a romantic relationship of his own in the meantime.

“Did one of you manage to lift Rog’s keys tonight?” Freddie asked in a way that made this seem old hat, like it was another private game they all played with each other.

“I did,” Deacy said, pulling a pair of keys from his pants pocket. He tossed them to Jim.

“When he found us at the bar, right?” Jim asked. “You were quite subtle.”

“Was he, darling?” Freddie asked, excitedly wanting every detail of parts of the party he had missed.

“I was impressed. Roger was so distracted by Deacy’s interest in Y/N, here. He wasn’t able to really focus on anything else, including the stealing his car keys.”

Deacy smiled at Jim, and walked over to you, “Was it really that obvious?” He asked you.

“Was what obvious?” You asked, not wanting to assume.

“My interest in you?”

“Yes,” You and Jim said at the same time. You both laughed. Jim gave you an encouraging wink.

“Well, shall we leave them alone, you think, my love?” Freddie asked Jim theatrically.

“What? In our bedroom?” Jim asked in mock-horror. “Good lord, imagine what they’d do in here if left alone…”

“I do suppose we could stay and watch…?” Freddie suggested.

“For science, surely.” Jim responded, “Brian would want us to collect data, after all…”

“We could even join them, I suppose.” Freddie sighed, it was the sigh of a man mustering up the courage to do a job no one really wanted to do. It was all an act, and he had it down to a tee. Everything was a production.

“They might need pointers.” Jim agreed.

“Have you ever even slept with a woman?” Freddie asked incredulously.

“Well, no,” Jim said, “But I’m sure I could figure out the mechanics.”

Tag List: @phantom-fangirl-stuff @triggeredpossum @obsessedwithrogertaylor @groupiie-love @richiethotzierz @partydulce @sophierobisonartfoundationblr @psychostarkid @teathymewithben @smittyjaws @just-ladyme @botinstqueen

[boogiewrites]

Mae Flowers Ch.1 Pt. 2

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Mae LeBlanc (OFC)

Word Count:  3000+

Summary: A modern, magical Alfie Solomons AU. After a soul awakening of her own, Mae LeBlanc, a natural born witch, as well as a sensitive and kind woman from New Orleans soul finally starts to bloom and calls out to Alfie’s, unbeknownst to her. Not believing in supernatural powers, she finds herself thrown into a new existence that is full of things she never thought possible, including magical powers of her own. Alfie takes her under his wing to teach her about her powers. As she grows and learns, so does he. They navigate her lessons together, come to terms with how lonely their lives have been without the other and face these very human emotions together. With a newfound friendship formed out of necessity, will the idea of a soul mate translate from a mere magical meaning to a romantic one?

Warnings/Tags: Language. Spooky Imagery. Mentions of anxiety, depression and death.

Positive feedback is MUCH appreciated! Reblogs, likes, asks and comments feed me to write more! Let me know if you’d like tagged in my work.

My Masterlist.

Mae LeBlanc's small but sturdy frame stands in the middle of a silent house. Just hours ago she had been in a tiny broken down apartment where she'd gotten ready for the funeral of the last two foster parents that she'd ever had. She was surprised when she was told to attend a meeting with their lawyers, but now surprise didn't begin to cover the emotions she was feeling. Her fingers trace over dusty surfaces, tchotchkes and knick-knacks from the lovely elderly couple that had taken care of her through the latter part of her teen years after she'd been passed from home to home since grade school.

One two many things would go wrong, turn up missing, accidents that were unexplainable happened around her and with many of the caretakers being religious or superstitious, eventually seeing the link between her arriving and things going wrong, she'd get sent back into the system again. None of these things were ever her fault directly, she never meant to hurt anything or anyone, that was the last thing she wanted to do. She was actually very sensitive and highly empathetic and whenever anyone was so much as in a bad mood around her she would feel it. This led to a lot of loneliness, a lot of abandonment issues and depression throughout her life. She tried to remain cautiously optimistic. A little voice in her head had always suggested that perhaps if she just fought a little harder, a little longer, that maybe one day things would turn around for her. And all that was finally paying off.

She stands in the overgrown and unkempt garden that used to belong to Bessie, her foster mother. She sees the old tool shed of Charles, Bessie's husband, now falling apart from not being used since he'd fallen ill. She takes a deep shaky inhale, holding the deed to the house in a stack of papers in her arms. They had left her the house and everything in it. She was overwhelmed, touched and deeply appreciative of the gesture. She could leave that sleazy apartment complex now, she wouldn't have to worry about paying rent anymore. The weight of her responsibilities begin to lift off her and she finds herself sobbing a combination of happy and sad tears into the dead patch of rose's that Bessie always loved. She cries until the sun starts to set, sniffling and realizing she had a lot of work to do now. But all of it was good work, hard work sure but she'd never shied from hard work. Her life had had too many obstacles to overcome for her to not work hard.

The next day she yawns, a cup of tea in her hand as she strolls around the garden, she sees the patch of roses with new life in them. Vines plumping and buds sprouting where she'd cried. She finds it most curious, but it's far from the strangest coincidence that had ever happened to her. She touches the buds gently, and lets out a heavy sigh. Perhaps it was a sign, she thought. She was being given an opportunity here, that was clear. She'd always loved plants and gardening, not having the place to do it since moving out of this house. Her tiny apartment was full of succulents and herbs on windowsills she used for cooking. She'd always been gifted at keeping plants alive, she felt like she understood them. So she sips her tea and considers opening the flower shop she'd always wanted. A dream of her's that now seemed to be a reality. And if those witches that had approached her were right, she should be able to grow such things to sell, shouldn't she?

When she'd been kicked out of one home after a very isolated freak storm hit the house after an altercation with her foster sibling, she was sent back into the system. This was when the women from Miss Robichaux’s Academy for Exceptional Young Ladies came to her. They told her she had powers and she told them they were full of crap. She'd brushed them off and told them not to contact her again, that she wasn't interested in joining a cult. But as she sat and thought about what they said, if she did indeed have powers, a lot of things in her life would've suddenly made a lot more sense. She never explored it further, not letting herself indulge in a fairy tale fantasy such as that. She wasn't special, why would she be? She was just a cry baby who's best friends historically were all animals. Just another number in the system, biding time until she aged out and became a statistic. She saw no reason she would be so lucky as to be so special.

The day after the roses bloomed from her tears, a cat shows up. She feeds him some tuna she found in the pantry and he laces between her legs and meows loudly as if to declare he was home now. He was a beautiful thing, long white hair and fluffy with green eyes. He was very large, she thought he must belong to someone but after scouring social media and the papers and looking at every 'LOST CAT' poster she saw for months, nothing came up so she decided to keep him. She named him Percival, Percy for short as he seemed like such a regal little gentleman. He was no trouble at all really, very intuitive and he listened when she spoke. She had a little companion to keep her company in the sizeable house and she was grateful to have him around.

Over the next year, she works as hard as she ever has. Selling what was valuable in the house to give her a nest egg. She sets the garden straight and takes business classes at community college while working in lawn and garden at Lowe's. She takes in any information she can and starts to cultivate her collection of plants. She keeps them in the sunroom and more in a greenhouse that had replaced Charles's old tool shed in the high fenced garden. She'd never felt more fulfilled but there's this sense of longing that keeps coming to mind after she lets her mind calm in the evenings. When she would light candles and incense and soak with oils and herbs in her large tub it was like she could feel a breeze as she heard something like faint whispering in her ears that gave her a strange feeling. It wasn't exactly loneliness or grief, but like something was missing she couldn't put her finger on.

Within six months she has the keys to her building she now owned. Within two months, her flower shop is up and running and within 4 months she's grown a clientele through hard work and word of mouth. She was known for having rare flowers and doing lovely arrangements and custom pieces. In the neighborhood she became the go-to for all occasions; funerals, wedding's, parties and holidays, she covered it all. She was very busy but she was the happiest she'd ever been in her life, a goal achieved and being lived filled her with love and light and she poured it all back into her work. She set her own hours, waking up and cooking, having tea and talking to her plants, sometimes singing to them when she'd listen to music. She would say goodbye to Percy and roller skate to work. It was a workout and gave her a chance to listen to music and get in the zone for work for the day.

Her days were lively and full of people and no moments of idle hands. But when she would come home to a house devoid of any other human life, sometimes her loneliness would creep in heavily. Cooking for herself, watching tv by herself, the leftovers piling up in the fridge over the week. The surplus of canned vegetables and jams from the garden adding up with no one but her lovely friends and neighbors Ruth and Nancy to give them to. She knew she was lonely, but she wasn't very good at reaching out and connecting with people. She never had been. She'd always been told she was a bit...off. A little weird, cute sure, but not beautiful enough to warrant her awkwardness being overlooked. Her sensitivity often led to react strongly to things and men never took a liking to that and when she would go out with someone it didn't ever really lead to anything. After a while she'd given up. She had her own life that was what she'd worked hard to achieve but there was still that strange pang inside her, not even sure if it was loneliness for another person at this point, she assumed it was just depression making her feel less than.

But then the dreams started. It was small at first, she'd dream about the swamp, hanging willows draped in Spanish moss. Algae thicker than her thighs over dead bodies of water that were teeming with life under the surface. It was dark and dank and still. Reptiles sunning on rocks and alligators floating with camouflage with their dinosaur eyes slowly blinking. She watches with curiosity until it quickly grows dark. The moon hangs high and she can barely see. What was once charming and quiet is now loud with the buzzing of insects, the hiss of unseens snakes, she feels the thick, black water around her skin, unknown things slithering and bumping into her, filling her with fear. She's tugged down slightly, too afraid to move, with the warmth of the sun gone she starts to smell the rot and decay of the lush greenery. The dead bodies thrown into the swamp now calling out for revenge, the beasts that outlived the other dinosaurs now pulling her down into the black water and then she'd scream and wake up, gasping for air.

The dreams begin to change. Instead of walking into the swamp she turns and walks away in a forest. She hears odd grunts and groans, following the sounds through the moss covered tree's in the dim light of the woods. She sees a fire growing in the distance as the moon rises again, and the bent form of a man silhouetted against it. He's speaking a language she does not understand or even recognize. She wasn't even sure how he was making some of the sounds. He's covered in layers of mud and paint, his skin resembling tree bark with its cracked and jagged surface. His face turns to her, obscured by the colors and the flames, his eyes glow white and she freezes. She somehow knows the words are meant for her, his bright eyes grow more intense, blackness oozes from his mouth as he begins to growl and sputter his words as he starts to crawl towards her. She feels something moving across her skin, she sees snakes wrapping around her limbs. Huge black iridescent beasts, that consumed her inch by inch until everything was blackness and she woke up.

The next night before going to sleep she brings Percy in and snuggles him, lighting some calming lavender incense she tries to be relaxed and welcomes happy dreams. These other dreams left her feeling oddly drained. She finds herself in her garden, the sun is shining, she's in her favorite combination of little dolphin shorts and a tank top happily working away. She hears a man's laugh from inside the house. She stops and listens, placing the tools in her hands on the ground. The sound gives her a warm feeling, unlike what she'd experienced in her other dreams. A loud, booming and charming laugh that had perhaps a slight lilt of an English accent to it. She tilts her head with curiosity. The smell of baked goods hits her nose and she sighs happily. Fresh from scratch bread being made in her kitchen she thinks, the faint hint of patchouli coming through and growing stronger. It feels so warm and inviting compared to her other dreams, she feels happy and content and it feels amazing. She hears footsteps on her patio stones, the squish of grass under feet and she freezes, seeing men's boots appear, walking towards her. She see's worn and faded blue jeans resting atop sturdy brown boots and they stop when she notices them. Her eyes move up his body slowly, a plain white t-shirt, bracelets on his wrists and various different metal necklaces hanging around his neck. He was built well, didn't look to be any older than his thirties, the way his crows feet grew when he crinkled his blue eyes with uncertainty as they met hers were the only thing to give away he wasn't any younger. A thick ginger beard covered his face, darker but matching hair in a medium length,  partially slicked back but messy style. His eyes go wide as do hers.

"That you love?" he asks, leaning towards her slightly and she feels a very strange sensation in her stomach, like a giant caterpillar was suddenly bursting out a cocoon and was now flapping wildly inside her. She gasps, taken back by the intensity of the feeling, which was odd for how intensely she was used to feeling things. She sits up in bed fully, not gasping or sweating, but that same strange feeling continues in her stomach. She looks at Percy who has his head tilted and his eyes narrowed at her.

"These weird dreams are getting weirder." she mumbles, taking a deep breath and reaching out to scratch Percy's chin. He had an inkling what may be happening, but he lacked the ability to tell her.

She goes through her same routine, adding a shower to the mix that morning to clear her head and the weird feeling in her chest. She comes in early, watering and talking to her plants, feeding them special food and adjusting the lights and Ph for all her babies. Being around them usual calmed her, made her feel more whole, but that day as she worked she felt oddly anxious like she was waiting for something to happen and she had no idea what. Being someone who suffered from anxiety this wasn't entirely new to her of course, but instead of a fast heart rate and sweating, she felt a strange hunger of some sort that not even a big lunch helped.

She'd kept her sunny demeanor through the day, people being very complimentary of her work and how fast she did it. But a certain wannabe southern belle white girl that used her flowers often came trouncing into the shop at the end of the day. She was one of a trio of girls she'd only been referring to as 'the white girls' as they usually moved in a pack like a grouping of cackling hens and had mad a few micro-aggressive remarks about Mae's half Spanish ancestry. They had stuck up noses, money, and privilege to spare.

She was purchasing Chrysanthemum's, baby's breathe and pink rose arrangements for her daughters first birthday. She was throwing a garden party for her. Which Mae saw as pointless and odd for a one-year-old but business was business. As usual, the blonde dripping in Lilly Pulitzer and her designer bag was trying to talk her way to a discount, citing how much she'd bought from Mae and that perhaps she had earned a discount. Or why didn't she do some sort of frequent buyers rewards program like the chain florists did? She wanted to say, because I'm not a chain florist, obviously, those things take time and records and a computer system she didn't have time to figure out or money to buy. But she knew the woman wasn't interested in any real reasons for conversation.

She gives her a fake smile and a fake laugh and says the same thing as always, "If I did it for you I'd have to do it for everyone else."

The woman was entirely disinterested already, seeing she wasn't getting her way and turning on the attitude and silent treatment, literally pouting and whining, huffing and stomping her feet in her cork wedges as she went out the door.

Mae sighs and shrugs, seeing it's almost time to close. She goes into the back to do one last round with the plants. She's humming and doling out treatments and praise, making notes of stock when she hears the bell on the door ring. "Hello!" she calls out before moving towards the front. She sits the canteen down and makes her way to the front counter. She sees the man from her dreams. This time he was real, at least she thinks he's real. She's certain when he steps forward with that same look on his face and speaks.

"Mae? Mae LeBlanc?" he asks in a charming English accent.

She's hit with the dream all over again. It was precisely him down to the necklaces. She's hit with every emotion, both good and bad all at once it seems. That twisting her gut comes back hard and her stomach shudders. She doesn't feel as afraid as she had but feels...something. She realizes she feels overwhelmed and tries to take a deep breath.

"That you love?" he asks, just as he did in the dream and her head starts to spin.

She lets out a nervous laugh, mouth opening to try to speak, but instead, her eyes roll back in her head and everything goes dark as she quickly becomes too overwhelmed with the unknown to continue functioning.

"Oh, fucking hell." he groans, moving fast to pick his soul's mate up and sit her in a large soft chair in the back of the shop. He turns the sign on the door to closed and proceeds to lock up and shut down the building. He grabs her bag and carries her to his car, gently placing her in the back seat that had the child locks in case she woke up while he was driving. He decided he'd take her home and they'd figure things out from there.

Chapter 2

@jaegeeeeer @negansdirtygirl22 @brianaisasongbird @hardygal69 @emerald-bijou @captstefanbrandt

[im-pawsitively-a-shapeshifter]

this story became longer than I thought but nonetheless, I have almost been writing every day. 

I wrote about my OC's Gemma (a Norwegian forest troll) and Kyanite (a dragon nicknamed Blue) so the story is that they met a week ago when Blue got lost in the forest for a reason I have yet to make (it’s a work in progress, but this is mostly so I get practice) 

feel free to leave a heart if you enjoyed it!

day 4: Boat

words: 2220

They treaded further into the endless woods,

“umm, can I ask where we are going?” Gemma turned on her heal and stared at Blue with a serious expression,

“you may not,” she started walking, a mischievous smile formed on the young troll’s face, “you wouldn’t know where it is anyway”.

Were all trolls this easy to read? Gemma’s excitement was poorly contained with her tail swishing eagerly and her eyes glittered as she had answered Blue, she was anything but serious, it made Blue a little anxious

        After a while of walking, Blue trotted up beside Gemma “does this have anything to do with what the elder trolls talked about last night?” Gemma had caught Blue trying to sneak near the meeting but none of the elder’s hushed chatter made much sense, Gemma slowed down and a pained expression flashed across her face, but she shook it off with a laugh and grinned, “we’re here!” she bounded off past the trees, Blue could see something glistening ahead, out of the woods was a vast lake. A grassy slope led towards the water, past clusters of big rocks, she decided to sit and wait for Gemma, who had vanished back into some bushes.

Blue sat until she felt the sun's rays seep under her scales, this was taking too long, sniffing the air she followed the scent of honey and tree sap. Everything smelled so much different than back home in the mountains, suddenly a twig broke behind her, she stopped, ear twitching for the next sound, someone was following her, under a muttered breath she sighed “better get this over with.” her tail swished with annoyance. A bush rustled at her side, whoever it was that was following her was a poor stalker, she turned speedily, giving force to her tail as she aimed for the bush, expected to feel the weight of a body her tail went clean through, there was nothing there. Standing still, she tried to hear for any more movement, but her pulse was the only sound against the quiet. Then the sound of branches moving snapped her eyes upwards, it seemed to almost slither around her, aiming for her side, it jumped at her, Blue’s instinct was to shield the attack with her tail, half-paralyzed with fear, she closed her eyes screaming, her attacker clung to her tail and after what seemed like five minutes of screaming she opened her eyes. “Gemma!” she yelled, her voice exasperated, body tense, “you were walking into the forest so I decided to follow you,” she stared into Blue’s eyes, slightly confused, still holding on to her tail, “you seemed like you had a plan.” she still hung on with both hands “but why would you spy on me?” Blue stared at her smiling face, “oh, that, I just wanted to surprise you.” “so that was the whole reason you dragged me to a lake?” her voice growing in irritation, “I have a serious mission I need to continue and you drag me to a stupid lake-” Gemma interrupted her “no, I found a boat,” her smile grew wider “I wanted to show you the boat so I can show you the lake” Blue could see her brown eyes sparkling with anticipation, Blue relaxed her muscles, confusion replacing her irritated glare,  “there cannot possibly be any boats here, unless there are only fragments of one.” “nope, a whole entire boat at our disposal.”

Blue paused for a second to decide her thoughts and landed on the only logical decision, “show me.” because her entire life had been on the mountains, she had only seen boats from high altitude, usually when her mother took her out to practice for becoming a warrior,

“do you see those things that float on the seas, Kyanite?” “yes mother. Are they bad?” her mother looked at the ships with cold eyes “those are the machines of mankind, crafted out of metal to help humans conquer the ocean, and you must never be seen by them.” Blue’s eyes went wide with wonder “why?” “because, humans bring nothing but death and destruction,” her eyes hardened as she looked at Blue “that is why you will promise me to stay away from them for as long as possible, never to seek them out.” “I promise.” that was the advice given to her by her mother, and the promise Blue had to make, it was the reason no dragon would dare fly on a clear day.

Gemma who was still hanging on to her tail, led Blue in the right direction and eventually they stumbled upon an old wooden boat, Blue stopped in front of it and swung her tale to her side, and Gemma jumped off, “here it is, isn't it cool?” “it’s made of wood, I've never seen a ship at near range, but I was told they were made of metal.” “you’re talking as if this isn’t the entire boat,” she laughed, “did you not know that boats came in different sizes?” her question demeaned Blue’s intelligence, was she making fun of her? She flushed, looking away, “that information has never been necessary to know before now, apparently.” Gemma had not seen Blue’s embarrassment because she had just lifted the boat over her head and started walking away, stunned at the small troll’s strength, her ears perked up “how are you able to carry that?” an entire life of believing trolls didn’t exist and now Blue had stayed in Gemma’s village for a week. “first of all, the boat isn’t heavy, and second, even though I'm the smallest around here, I am still a troll,” she walked to the lake and flipped the boat onto the water, “now get in, we’re losing precious daylight.” “you’re joking, right?” she was standing in the water seeming to think that her holding it would make Blue weigh any less, Blue stared at her dumbfounded, “it’s going to sink.” “it won’t sink.” “it will.” “it won’t.” she only smiled, waiting for Blue to get in, “will you stop badgering me about the stupid boat if I prove to you that it will indeed sink?” “yup.” there was a pause, “ugh, fine.” carefully she climbed into the boat, defiantly sitting down, ears flat. Gemma pushed off and they floated quietly on the water, Blue’s ear flicked “oh...” they were still floating, “told ya.” she climbed on top of Blue, “hey, w-what do you think you are doing,” she felt scrambling feet and hands on her back and side, “oof, are you trying to push me through the boat?” “lie still, or we’re going to fall,” a short moment passed where they gazed at each other, “by the way,” she pointed to the water, “this is what I wanted to show you as well.” Craning her long neck over the side, below the surface Blue could see another wooden boat at the bottom, “I wonder what the story is behind that one.” “oh, it sank,” Gemma said bluntly, “I sank it. I should have checked it for holes, but I was so ecstatic to have built it.” Blue caught a glimpse of Gemma’s reflection in the still lake, smiling down at her failure, “wait a minute,” a few ripples distorted the water’s surface, but without a doubt right beside the first boat, was another, “did you sink that one as well?” Gemma let out a laugh, “that’s the second boat I made, if you look a bit to your left you can see the original boat, which I found down there before I had a chance to sink it.” Genuine curiosity spread through Blue, “where did you learn how to make boats?” “it was a hot summer day, and I wanted to go for a swim, so I did, and then I found the old boat by chance. Somedays I swam down simply to study the Viking inspired carvings, I have tried to pull it out, however, even I have my limits,” The last sentence made her brow furrow, “half of it is stuck in the murky bottom, makes for horrible footing.” “you learned all of this on your own,” she gave a glance at Gemma, then the water, “no wonder they sank.” Gemma’s laugh rang through the still air, Blue was confused, but didn’t care to know why, but the troll was uncomfortably close, has she never heard of personal space?

After staring at the drowned boats, Gemma laid down onto her back, still on top of Blue, “I’m getting comfy.” “no, no no, do not get comfortable, I have no intention of wasting the rest of the day on... staring at clouds, or for you to-” her sentence interrupted by a hand patting Blue’s metallic scales shimmering in the light, her voice sleepily whispered with a smile, “you’re so warm” she stretched her arms behind her head, and fell asleep. Blue blushed but remained still. She didn’t want to appear affected by being touched, especially in this situation where she couldn’t get away without seeming to be rude, so she laid there quietly listening to the faint wind in the trees.

Blue started to stir, she had fallen asleep, an hour must have passed, the sun had started to set, creating a beautiful peach-hued sky. With the light changed it appeared to hit something in the water, something shined up at Blue, she dipped her head under, reaching a little closer, she leaned in but her balance shifted throwing her in the lake, she swam down beside the boat that had inspired Gemma, disappointed she saw only a piece of glass that had caught the sunlight. she was about to head back up when the carvings of the boat stopped her, a dragon and a troll standing next to each other. Her curiosity piqued, convincing her to try and pull it up, she grabbed the sides and pulled, barely budging. She got her legs on the murky ground and pushed it upwards, finally it started to move, she heaved up towards the surface, gasping for breath.

Gemma who was a few feet away feeling quite awake, was paddling ashore as Blue showed up, towing a large Viking longboat at her side. “this is the boat you tried to recreate? You made barely a quarter of the boat.” Dripping wet with a stunned look on her face Gemma said, “holy snaptrapper! I was really wrong on that one, I’m admitting that.” Blue heaved the boat up on the shore, and shook off the water, she indicated towards the carving, “please tell me you know what this is supposed to mean.” “That look’s like us.” Astonished she grazed her fingers over the troll carving, “I highly doubt that.” “then maybe it has something to do with the past?” “It could simply be from a story, a myth.” “but we are the myths.” She gazed at Blue, who was sticking her head over the side looking in. “what are you doing?” “hold on, there’s something here.” Tipping the ship slightly as she clawed over, and grabbed a tiny wooden box, Gemma was thrilled at the sight and bounced from one leg to the other, her voice squealing with delight, “open it, now, hurry!” Inside were five gemstones, one which Blue recognized, a polished crystal shined with different shades of blue in her palm, “this is a kyanite.” “but that is your name.” “all the mountain dragons, that I know of at least, are named after gems and rocks,” Blue laid it in her hand and she watched the lines and color change in the light, “when a dragon is born, they are brought forth to be given a name by the lithosphaino. Only a female dragon can be chosen to become a lithosphaino, for it is said that only females can truly understand what it is to feel grounded to the earth, to believe in themselves, as they help hatchlings into the world with a name so they can remember to believe in their own strength.” “so, a mother’s love is what you value.” her eyes drifted over the blue gem, deep in thought, until Blue interrupted the silence, “look at this one, it has a brown hue like your hair and fur.”  “you’re right, I’ll keep that one, I think we were meant to find them.” “I don’t know about that, but it is cool nonetheless.”

The peach-colored sky was beginning to fade, soon leaving them with the dark of night. “we should head back, I’m hungry.” They got up and stared at each other, “what do we do with the boat?” “we’ll come back for it.” Gemma answered simply, “are you going to try and build this one as well?” “I have to, I am too far into this boat building knowledge, you never know when you might need a boat, though perhaps with this one I could use some help.” “let’s get some food first before you start making me chop down trees for your project.” “What should we do about the rest of the gems?” Blue chuckled, “Hey, maybe we can find who they are supposed to be with.” She joked but Gemma thought that one gem strangely reminded her of her friend. They walked into the forest, leaving the lake still and quiet, once more.