#flashback to playing night in the woods and going oh! i can play this in the dark w my lights off!

[rindomness]

OHHHH WHAT IS THIS CELESTE MIRROR TEMPLE BULLSHIT

[deconstructthesoup]

Been thinking about how the Ratgrinders' relationships with each other would evolve from here... and this might be a hot take, but I actually think it would get slightly better.

Sure, there's the trauma that Lucy has of seeing her friends taken over by rage and killing her. There's the fact that Oisin and Ivy remember stuff, and Ruben doesn't remember anything. And there's the fact that Mary Ann... well, she seemed largely apathetic to everything, but seeing as she immediately asked Gorgug out as soon as she got resurrected, I'd have to say that she only appears apathetic now, as opposed to actually being apathetic.

But they're not grinding rats in the woods anymore, because that was Kipperlilly's idea. They have the opportunity to go on real, actual quests, where they can learn and connect and actually grow as a team. And you know what? It's the perfect opportunity to explore their dynamics, if we ever get a season with them a la The Seven.

Give me a scene where Oisin, Ivy, and Mary Ann are roasting people together, which eventually evolves into them just trying their hardest to make each other laugh. Give me a scene where Ruben plays a quiet little ukulele tune to calm Lucy down when she starts having flashbacks. Give me a scene where Mary Ann and Lucy are quietly curled up together, playing Quokki Pets and giving each other gameplay tips. Give me a scene where Ivy and Lucy are doing each other's hair and makeup after one of them has had a hard day and they need to unwind. Give me a scene where Oisin notices that Ruben's lagging behind and he just picks him up and carries him on his shoulders---because even now that he's not shatterstarred, he's still a lot stronger than he used to be, and maybe he might take a level in paladin, just for a little extra healing factor. Give me a scene where Ruben and Mary Ann run into battle stacked on top of each other and by the end of it they're both giggle-laughing and play-shoving each other because oh my god that was so dumb and your stupid puka shells kept on getting in my face. Give me a scene where Oisin sheepishly asks Mary Ann if she could put in a good word for him for Adaine and she immediately tells the rest of the party, causing them to tease him for the rest of the night until one of them---maybe it's Lucy, maybe it's Ivy---quietly tells him that it's okay, that he's not that person anymore, and maybe it might work out. Give me a scene where Ivy wordlessly carves little trinkets and bracelets out of wood and gives them to Ruben, because while it's still hard for her to say what she really thinks, she still wants to show them that she really does care.

Idk, man. I think they could be a great party.

[coniangray]

St5 teaser breakdown

(cus im bored) (spoilers, duh....i think)

All these clips are from the first 2 eps cus ofc they wont wanna spoil more that early into production. Like imagine if this felt too much of a sneak peak, the season is gonna be HUGE and this will feel like the 0.00001% of what it actually is lmao.

The school scenes:

i think first scenes, all from episode one.

The boys will catch a signal from the radio the night prior, paralleling s2e1

but this time either will lives with the wheelers or hes at the radio station and they contact from there.

the signal might be near a military base OR

its henrys signal that needs decoding excactly like the scoop troops did in st3.

So, the dynamics here are gonna be reminicent of both s2 and s3e2.

some quotes like "what are you doing on this channel again" and ''I cracked it", "cracked what?","I cracked the code" are also gonna make the cut. This scene will be paralelled with either mike or dustin, since these two were the brain of the party.

BONUS:

And what did robin also figure out in s4? Oh, wait-

I dont actually know what this code is, but i know it needs all four of them to solve it. And what if, in the background of the signal they catch up on little dream of me playing in the background?

The daisy song being broadcasted was accidental; the russians werent planning on including it there or they just did it as a distraction (they might have recorded the code within the crowd of the mall in brought daylight.) So what if the music, even if there is one at the background, is accidental too? After all, this song is mentioned as victors safe space because he called ella fitzgerald an angel, not henrys.

It all has to do with vecna at the end of the day, given how will touches his neck and feels him. This is an early sign of the symptoms, given how later, after school, they grow bigger and wider, giving will his first vision of the day:

And i dont even need to tell yall what this scene paralels lol

same table, but not same tree.

The code solving talk still continues here, because of how convenient it is to have will see the clock, zone out, walk towards it while the rest of the group talks about vecna and him capturing his victims in manipulative ways. In this scene they will bring up metaphors and allegories, just like they did with chrissy and eddie "do you ever feel like youre losing your mind?","i feel like im going crazy right now, doing a deal with the queen of hawkins high".

Also, like eddie said, this place promises safety because no o ne ever goes out there. SO, my bet is, mike chose they go there since eddie mustve told him right before he died.

bet hell say sth between the lines of "We have to go somewhere private. Somewhere no one can hear us." and thatll be most likely during lunch.

And thats where the bullies come in.

In order to continue their scenes out there, they mustve been interrupted by andy and jasons squad, and teased as to what they were doing with the radio on the table, given the leaks we got back in january or mike and dustin being followed by them.

no i have a feeling that during this arguement (after lunch and before the table scene), andy will attack mike and dustin and will will hopefully give a punch, paraleling el and angela in s4 and joyce in s3. This is my guess here, but i hope its true cus poor boy needs to throw hands with sb.

Spoiler alert it might not happen that day cus all of them are safe and sound without a scratch in the table woods scene.

After the woods scene, dustin visits eddied grave with his bike, which vandalized to the gods and guess who did it; thats right the bullies.

which will probably paralel maxs scene on billys grave

I wanna believe we get a heartfelt speech about his and mikes relationship with eddie, warming the ground for more eddie flashbacks to come. No, he wont get vecnad here, but rather found and beaten up by andi and the bullies, cus he was seen with a bruised face later on

and yes, the projector scene is also from the same day.

Another interesting thing to point out here is how the duffers said that our characters will start the season in action, so all the el scenes fighting vecna in the upside down and all the lights flickering, theyre all from the first 2 episodes.

After school and after the graveyard, with propably a few new scenes taking place in the middle, they all go to the new station set, and as it seems the byers are doing a presentation??

Probably from their experience in the uspide down, or most likely explaining sth about vecnas connection.

Orrr its a group thing, idk.

The thing is, dustin is beaten up standing next to steve. My bets are that hell notice dustin is hurt and make a huge deal about it, argue with the party on why he was found like that in the first place.

This would also be a chance to bring up the dynamics from the previous seasons and their flaws, aka dustin being with steve more time than he was with the party or others.

The thing is, in the same scene we see this;

M4tt showing n0ah how to choke.

Things most likely get heated in this scene, and that triggers wills connection with vecna. The mindflayer activates, and he becomes like billy.

And who else flayed choked sb else prior to this?

LETS GO BABY WE ROLL !!

Will will attack someone, most likely steve, cus he was also shown beaten up later in the teaser, especially in the car scene with nancy n johnathan.

Which leads us to this leak;

Its night, right outside the radio station. My guess is that steve tries to escape but part of him stays cus hell its will that attacks, that boy is harmless, right? While will is just there, chocking him and bagginf him to run.

Its the perfect lead up imo; first he feels the mf getting closer, then he has the vision and then he gets activated.

i feel like this is the cliffhanger between e1 and e2, since it would be perfect to have us waiting for steves safety and wills sanity for the next episode.

Bonus bonus;

Nancys Candy striper outfit

Going undercover in ep 1 was not on mybingo card, so im guessing shes an actual vollunteer at the hospital, because shed have to gain trust in order to sneak in and steal files.

but then again, why from tyhe hospital? all this place has ws maxs condition, which was already known to her and the rest of the team.

Involving her with such type of environment is simply to create more paraelels from the hmh scenes in s3.

Now, we also got this leak from april, and its most likely for ep4

the vollunteer is obviously nancy, but for her to return to that outfit, shell have to wear it again. So that means what i said, she became a vollunteer to gain trust and steal the proper files from the turnbows mansion thats connected to the lab.

Wills outfit also indicates its from a later episode.

As for the hopper scenes, idk a lot to break it down. And for el, this must be in ep 1 since this is unfinished bussiness from the piggyback if u nthink abt it

Thats it, hope you enjoyed my brain fart and i hope im right.

[katnissmellarkkk]

Hmmm I’m bored and I’m a sucker for parallels and first and lasts so I did a collection of first and last moments for every major relationship Katniss had throughout the series. 🤍🤍🤍

-

Peeta

The mayor finishes the dreary Treaty of Treason and motions for Peeta and me to shake hands. His are as solid and warm as those loaves of bread. Peeta looks me right in the eye and gives my hand what I think is meant to be a reassuring squeeze. Maybe it’s just a nervous spasm.

We turn back to face the crowd as the anthem of Panem plays.

Oh, well, I think. There will be twenty-four of us. Odds are someone else will kill him before I do.

/

Peeta and I grow back together. There are still moments when he clutches the back of a chair and hangs on until the flashbacks are over. I wake screaming from nightmares of mutts and lost children. But his arms are there to comfort me. And eventually his lips. On the night I feel that thing again, the hunger that overtook me on the beach, I know this would have happened anyway. That what I need to survive is not Gale’s fire, kindled with rage and hatred. I have plenty of fire myself. What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again. And only Peeta can give me that.

So after, when he whispers, “You love me. Real or not real?”

I tell him, “Real.”

-

Haymitch

Now I am truly in danger of crying, but fortunately Haymitch chooses this time to come staggering across the stage to congratulate me. “Look at her. Look at this one!” he hollers, throwing an arm around my shoulders. He’s surprisingly strong for such a wreck. “I like her!” His breath reeks of liquor and it’s been a long time since he’s bathed. “Lots of . . . ” He can’t think of the word for a while. “Spunk!” he says triumphantly. “More than you!” he releases me and starts for the front of the stage. “More than you!” he shouts, pointing directly into a camera.

Is he addressing the audience or is he so drunk he might actually be taunting the Capitol? I’ll never know because just as he’s opening his mouth to continue, Haymitch plummets off the stage and knocks himself unconscious.

He’s disgusting, but I’m grateful. With every camera gleefully trained on him, I have just enough time to release the small, choked sound in my throat and compose myself.

/

Like a good mentor, Haymitch makes me eat a sandwich and then pretends he believes I’m asleep for the rest of the trip. He busies himself going through every compartment on the hovercraft, finding the liquor, and stowing it in his bag. It’s night when we land on the green of the Victor’s Village. Half of the houses have lights in the windows, including Haymitch’s and mine. Not Peeta’s. Someone has built a fire in my kitchen. I sit in the rocker before it, clutching my mother’s letter.

“Well, see you tomorrow,” says Haymitch.

As the clinking of his bag of liquor bottles fades away, I whisper, “I doubt it.”

-

Gale

In the woods waits the only person with whom I can be myself. Gale. I can feel the muscles in my face relaxing, my pace quickening as I climb the hills to our place, a rock ledge overlooking a valley. A thicket of berry “bushes protects it from unwanted eyes. The sight of him waiting there brings on a smile. Gale says I never smile except in the woods.

“Hey, Catnip,” says Gale. My real name is Katniss, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So he thought I’d said Catnip.

/

We stand there, face-to-face, not meeting each other’s eyes. “You didn’t come see me in the hospital.” He doesn’t answer, so finally I just say it. “Was it your bomb?”

“I don’t know. Neither does Beetee,” he says. “Does it matter? You’ll always be thinking about it.”

He waits for me to deny it; I want to deny it, but it’s true. Even now I can see the flash that ignites her, feel the heat of the flames. And I will never be able to separate that moment from Gale. My silence is my answer.

“That was the one thing I had going for me. Taking care of your family,” he says. “Shoot straight, okay?” He touches my cheek and leaves.

-

Finnick

The crunching hits my ear before I even know he’s beside me, and when I turn my head, Finnick Odair’s famous sea green eyes “are only inches from mine. He pops a sugar cube in his mouth and leans against my horse.

“Hello, Katniss,” he says, as if we’ve known each other for years, when in fact we’ve never met.

“Hello, Finnick,” I say, just as casually, although I’m feeling uncomfortable at his closeness, especially since he’s got so much bare skin exposed.

“Want a sugar cube?” he says, offering his hand, which is piled high. “They’re supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They’ve got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I . . . well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.”

/

Far below, I can just make out Finnick, struggling to hang on as three mutts tear at him. As one yanks back his head to take the death bite, something bizarre happens. It’s as if I’m Finnick, watching images of my life flash by. The mast of a boat, a silver parachute, Mags laughing, a pink sky, Beetee’s trident, Annie in her wedding dress, waves breaking over rocks. Then it’s over.

-

Johanna

Johanna Mason. […] She ruffles up her spiky hair and rolls her wide-set brown eyes. “Isn’t my costume awful? My stylist’s the biggest idiot in the Capitol. Our tributes have been trees for forty years under her. Wish I’d gotten Cinna. You look fantastic.”

Girl talk. That thing I’ve always been so bad at. Opinions on clothes, hair, makeup. So I lie. “Yeah, he’s been helping me design my own clothing line. You should see what he can do with velvet.” Velvet. The only fabric I could think of off the top of my head.

“I have. On your tour. That strapless number you wore in District Two? The deep blue one with the diamonds? So gorgeous I wanted to reach through the screen and tear it right off your back,” says Johanna.

I bet you did, I think. With a few inches of my flesh.

/

“I made it for you. Something to put in your drawer.” I place it in her hands. “Smell it.”

She lifts the bundle to her nose and takes a tentative sniff. “Smells like home.” Tears flood her eyes.

“That’s what I was hoping. You being from Seven and all,” I say. “Remember when we met? You were a tree. Well, briefly.”

Suddenly, she has my wrist in an iron grip. “You have to kill him, Katniss.”

“Don’t worry.” I resist the temptation to wrench my arm free.

“Swear it. On something you care about,” she hisses.

“I swear it. On my life.” But she doesn’t let go of my arm.

“On your family’s life,” she insists.

“On my family’s life,” I repeat. I guess my concern for my own survival isn’t compelling enough. She lets go and I rub my wrist. “Why do you think I’m going, anyway, brainless?”

That makes her smile a little. “I just needed to hear it.” She presses the bundle of pine needles to her nose and closes her eyes.

-

Prim

“You look beautiful,” says Prim in a hushed voice.

“And nothing like myself,” I say. I hug her, because I know these next few hours will be terrible for her. Her first reaping. She’s about as safe as you can get, since she’s only entered once. I wouldn’t let her take out any tesserae. But she’s worried about me. That the unthinkable might happen.

I protect Prim in every way I can, but I’m powerless against the reaping. The anguish I always feel when she’s in pain wells up in my chest and threatens to register on my face. I notice her blouse has pulled out of her skirt in the back again and force myself to stay calm. “Tuck your tail in, little duck,” I say, smoothing the blouse back in place.

Prim giggles and gives me a small “Quack.”

“Quack yourself,” I say with a light laugh. The kind only Prim can draw out of me.

/

First I get a glimpse of the blond braid down her back. Then, as she yanks off her coat to cover a wailing child, I notice the duck tail formed by her untucked shirt. I have the same reaction I did the day Effie Trinket called her name at the reaping. At least, I must go limp, because I find myself at the base of the flagpole, unable to account for the last few seconds. Then I am pushing through the crowd, just as I did before. Trying to shout her name above the roar. I’m almost there, almost to the barricade, when I think she hears me. Because for just a moment, she catches sight of me, her lips form my name.

And that’s when the rest of the parachutes go off.

/

The small white bird tinged in pink dives down, buries her claws in my chest, and tries to keep me afloat. “No, Katniss! No! You can’t go!”

But the ones I hated are winning, and if she clings to me, she’ll be lost as well. “Prim, let go!” And finally she does.

-

[maximum18]

Hello again, my Bunny- Chan part 1

Yandere Naga x Lapicentaur reader

Warning ⚠️!!:

Cursing

Info:

Your a Lapicentaur ( for those who don’t know, you’re a half human bunny ) Lapicentaurs are rare and mostly treated as pets. Nagas on the other hand are very common, but rare to find or see, there not treated as pets like Lapicentaurs, Naga are treated like a dangerous animal. You had recently escaped the animal control. And you ended up injured and lost in the woods.

History/backstory:

Before you were captured by the animal control, you would play with a naga called Ibha, but you called him night because his scales were breach black. Ibha was your best friend.

Personality:

Ibha:

When you were with him, he was lazy, possessive, angry, cocky, and jealous. He is over confident, and thinks he can do whatever he wants.

Y/n:

Your nice, confident, brave, smart and loyal. You will help anyone. And can be bratty.

Appearance :

Ibha as a kid:

He as tan skin, black scales and hair, yellow eyes and one scar on his cheek.

Ibha as a adult:

He looks the same but as a lot of scars.

Y/n as a kid:

You were very small. You have y/e color eyes, and y/h. You have pale skin.

Y/n as an adult:

Your still small. You have long hair, large ears and a scar on your nose.

Nicknames:

Idha:

Night

Dark

Y/n:

Little bunny

Bunny

Bun bun

Bonnie

Bunny-Chan

Shorty

———————————————————————————

You were running from the animal control, you couldn’t go back there again. You managed to lose them, but got lost in the process.

You sat down and looked at your injury on your foot. It hurts like hell, but it was manageable. Your ears puckered up. You didn’t pay attention to the noise. You wished you did.

A long tail wrapped around your body. Not even to hurt you but made sure you were unable to move.

“Hello my little Bunny-Chan~~”

You know who this voice belonged to….Idha

“Idha it’s good to see you” you said nervously. Idha moved closer to you.

“Mm you look surprised to see me.”

“You shocked me, that’s all.” You pouted.

“Well, little bunny you’re in my territory, you’re lucky I didn’t kill you.” He says softly.

“Sorry Idha, I didn’t know. Now can you let me go?” You ask. Ibha leaned closer to you.

“No.”

“Oh come on Idha.”

“No, I haven't seen you in years, and now.” Idha paused. “I have you.”

“What does that mean? I'm not going anywhere.”

Idha looked angry.

“Did you forget what I told you before you got taken.” Idha said angrily.

Flashback:

You were sitting down under a tree, reading a book. Idha suddenly came to you. He looked nervous.

“What’s wrong Idha?” You asked worried. You’ve never seen Idha nervous before.

“Y/n, I…I uhh I think I … like you.”

You smile.

“Ohh Idha you had me worried fo—“

“NO, I didn’t…. I didn’t mean that type of like.”

Idha started looking mad.

“Ohh, that type of like.” You blushed.

“Do you like me too?”

You thought for a moment.

“Yeah! I like you too!”

Idha looked relieved.

“Good! Now you have to promise me, when we’re older, we’re get married!”

“I promise Idha!”

End of flashback

“We were kids, kids made promises that they don’t do.”

Idha liked pissed. His tail tightens up.

“Well, guess what! I waited for you, to come back!!”

“Idh—-“

“NO! You’re going to marry me, and you won’t do shit!!” He yelled angrily.

To

Be

Continued

[spiderfunkz]

✧.* i can still recall our last summer.

— summary : while spending winter in hawkins, you and your girlfriend robin recall the memories you two had from last summer.

— pairings : robin buckley x gn!reader

— words : 0.9k

— warnings : major tooth rotting fluff, pet names, established relationship, mentions of eating/food, also please just pretend that hawkins snows or has a cold winter for the sake of the plot ok ok, (not proofread because i'm lazy whoops).

a/n : i was inspired by the song our last summer by abba when writing this because the idea from when i was listening to it sooo, go ahead and stream it while reading!! oh also also, italics are flashbacks/memories :) p.s sorry for the messy plot whoops

the cold winter wind brushes against your skin as you stuff your hands in your jacket, fastening your pace a bit as you made your way to robin's trailer.

winter in hawkins is something you always look forward too ever since you were a kid, you get to take a break from the hot weather and enjoy the nice and cold one. it was always exciting for you, the hot chocolate, the sweaters, the christmas trees, the gifts, the people, everything.

this december is your first christmas with robin. well, the first christmas with robin, as your girlfriend.

yes, your girlfriend! the years of you having a crush her didn't go to waste, she was now someone you can finally call yours. and robin absolutely loves you, just two hopeless romantics in love. and she never wanted anything more than that, as she said once.

"i love you so much, y/n. just so you know, if i could give you the whole universe and more.. i would."

the little memory of that moment made you smile as you finally arrive at robin's trailer which was surrounded by the white snow.

you knock the door, brushing the snowflakes from your hair as robin opens the door, welcoming you with a warm hug.

robin's trailer was cozy, blankets were placed on and around the couch, scented candles were filling the coffee table, marshmallows scattered around the kitchen counter, and your favorite movie playing on the small tv.

you two sat on the couch, watching the movie as you snuggled closer to robin.

"you cold?" robin asks, you nodded.

she holds you closer, brushing your hair with her hands. "the cold is nice, but i wish it was summer again." robin says. "yeah, the summer was really nice." you admitted as robin smiled.

"remember that one time we went to the fun fair? you got so much cotton candy that night you woke up feeling sick." robin laughs as your cheeks turn red at that embarrassing moment. "okay, first of all the cotton candy was so worth it at the moment." you chuckle, "and plus, you were the one who still stayed with me when i was sick."

the night at the fun fair was one of many nights with your girlfriend that you could never forget. the fireworks, games, and snacks made the night so perfect.

"robin!" you yell out, waving your hand at robin from across the ring toss stand. robin quickly spots you and walks towards you as the person who stands by the game gives you your prize gift, a pretty blue teddy bear.

"look what i won!" you smile, handing the bear to robin. "awe, it's so cute! m'so proud of you." robin hugs the bear. "it's for you, won it just for you." you nodded as robin gasps.

"thank you, m'love. wanna go and buy some cotton candy?" robin asks as you nod, grabbing her hand as you two walk towards the cotton candy stand.

you snuggled closer to robin as you recall your memories with her from last summer. "ooh! how about that one time we went on a road trip and camped in the woods? you got stuck in that hammock we set up." you laugh as robin gave you a sarcastic scoff.

"okay, you were the one who set it up soo.... also it wasn't my fault that the hammock was very... swing-able." robin shrugged as you shook your head, smiling.

"uh i think i did it." you smile proudly at the hammock you just set up, crossing your hands as you turn to robin who was walking towards you. robin kisses your cheek as she walks up to the hammock, sitting and swinging on it.

"hey- i don't think swinging on it is the best idea." you warn her, yet robin continues to swing harder.

"robin i swear to god if you-" before you could finish your sentence, robin gets stuck in the hammock as you smack your hand on your forehead. "get stuck in the hammock." you finish your sentence as you walk towards the hammock, helping your girlfriend.

"how about we stop thinking about that, that was incredibly embarrassing." robin stated, "it wasn't that bad. we ended up cuddling in the hammock so, i think it went okay." you say as robin smiled.

"hmm, how about that one time when we went on a picnic, that was a lovely one." robin says, "oh yeah! i still have some polaroid pictures from that day." you grin at the memory.

it was a nice sunny day, you and robin were planning to have a picnic date near the willow tree. you two had it all planned, it was a perfect date.

you and robin meet up by the willow tree and set everything up. the plaid picnic mat was layed, as you grab the basket and set up the food for the picnic.

strawberry shortcakes, cookies, sandwiches, and robin's famous fruit salad. you had your up in a braid as robin's hair stayed the same, short and pretty hair.

time went by quickly as you two finished eating. the sun was soon setting as robin cleaned up the leftover food and stored it in the basket.

you notice the pretty flowers near the hill and decide to pick some and make it into a pretty little bouquet.

the daisies and tulips you grabbed turned into the prettiest bouquet you thought as you walk towards robin, hiding the bouquet behind your back.

"what'cha got there, birdie?" robin asks as you reveal the flowers to her. "for you." you say, handing robin the flowers with a big smile.

robin kisses your cheeks before grabbing the flowers, holding your hip as she rests her head on your shoulder. "thank you, m'love."

"summer was really nice." you stated as robin holds you close.

[somekindofadeviant]

Sprusilla Fic Recs

My absolute captivating beloveds, my OTP before I expanded out to an OT4. I gotchu some recs for the married Victorian babies of the Whirlwind. Travels with Spike and Dru by Rebcake - A wonderful series with several classics. 24 Hour Midnight, Tipperary, Let The Good Times Roll, Voodoo Chile...Just go read the whole series. Rebcake is a master of drabbles and short works. Rating: Varying from G to Explicit, Length: 33,362 words Placeholder by Glassdarkly - If you go down to the woods today... Actually, wait. Why would you do anything that stupid? A spooky horror vignette. Rating: Teen+, Length: 1292 words Night Off by Glassdarkly - Breaking into a cemetery on Halloween? Maybe not the brightest idea in the world, even if it is supposed to be a vampire's night off. Rating: Teen+, Length: 2697 words Unwrapping by brutti ma buoni - Another spooky lil vignette. Short and nasty and perfect. Rating: Mature, Length: 850 words O, Little Breath of Oblivion by Dead Soul - 1920s Harlem, Jazz Age sex and vampire hijinks. Deliciously gruesome. Rating: Explicit, Length: 2057 words The Third Defenestration of Prague by Kairos - Spike, Dru, and an angry mob. Disorientating in a perfectly apt way. Rating: Teen+, Length: 1253 words Crazy Madcap Redemption by Hello Spikey - Set during A:tS s5. Drusilla returns, not to be evil, but to reconnect. Can Spike draw her to the light before she draws him to the dark? Rating: Mature, Length: 32,526 words Theatre of War by meridian rose - Harvesting the battlefields of the first world war. Rating: Teen+, Length: 553 words Prague Series by FayJay - Spike and Dru hit Prague. Thoroughly wonderful and vicious. Consists of Painted Eggs, Bone Chapel, and The Painted Rose. Rating: Explicit, Length: 28,811 words Hotel Lavear by Indri - South America, 1998, the chaos demon's POV. A Tragicomedy. Rating: G, Length: 7532 words Twist by Darling Effect - A quiet night home with Spike and Dru in the whirlwind days. Oh yeah, and there's pegging. Rating: Explicit, Length: 1275 words The Dangers of Desert Driving by Meltha - Spike and Dru pick up a rather familiar hitchhiker. Brilliance ensues. Rating: Teen+, Length: 2895 words The Body Electric by sevendeadlyfun - Spike finds a way to give Drusilla what Angelus never can - the beating of her heart. Rating: Explicit, Length: 1500 words The Gold Wrapped Box by duh i write - A bit of a seasonal gift mix-up. Rating: Mature, Length: 606 words Radio Play by Cornerofmadness - Spike and Dru have fun with a radio personality just after the end of World War II and are foiled by an unexpected foe. Rating: Teen+, Length: 5080 words Wishes on Her Eyes by Cornerofmadness - Spike and Dru have turned a sugar mama but her grasping sister and her irate fiancé suspect them of her murder. Rating: Explicit, Length: 12437 words Twists and Turns by beer good - Delightful fun with myths about how to fight vampires. Rating: Teen+, Length: 750 words The Way We Live Now by labingi - Spike is living with an ensouled Drusilla, AU A:tS s5. A thoughtful and softly poignant piece. Rating: Teen+, Length: 1787 words Vamp Dolce by violethamster - A 1950s Italy caper. Because that flashback was divine and we need more. This one is perfect. Rating: Teen+, Length: 2120 words Special mention to: Magpies in the Morning by Tasseomancy - Season 4, Drusilla senses Spike's predicament and makes a deal with the Scoobies. Tasseomancy has an absolutely gorgeous Dru voice. This one starts out Spike/Drusilla but transitions to Spike/Dusilla/Buffy. Rating: Mature, Length: 16,709 words In Imbolic by duh i write - After Angelus leaves, Darla's feeling sentimental. Darla pov. There's Sprusilla and shades of Darla/Dru/Spike. Beautifully bittersweet. Rating: Teen+, Length: 1616 words Set Off Like Geese by Hannah - All Human AU. Not something you see very often for Sprusilla. I very rarely read AH fic but Hannah does it wonderfully with great sensitivity and a gorgeous command of language. Rating: G, Length: 107,172 words

[muiltifandomnerd]

Adventures of Chika Hanabusa: The Restoration of Earth

Disclaimer: This book follows the events of Percy Jackson and Heros of Olympus fanfic, this fanfic will not include Trails of Apollo, The Kane Chronicles, and Magnus Chase.

Chapter 15: Hyun’s Origins

Hyun PoV

I sent Reyna and Chika back to Camp Jupiter safely. I walk towards the woods, hoping to get out of this place. So many memories kept flooding back to me, and all I could think about was the first time I met Ben.

Flashback(Kindergarten)

Daddy sent me to school and packed my favorite fruit strawberry. I sat next to a boy, who is my age. He has mischievous green eyes and brown silky hair and is wearing a SpongeBob shirt. He kept poking me on the shoulder and I got very angry.

“WHAAT?” I shouted in annoyance, The whole class looked at me and the teacher, an elderly woman, looked at me in disapproval.

“Ms. Mun, what is the issue?” The teacher asks in an irritated tone while the students look at me. Oh great, this boy embarrassed me.

“The boy next to me won't stop me and it's very annoying," I said with my eyes showing tears.

“Ben, why did you poke.” The teacher looked at the annoying, mischievous boy. The boy smiled brightly and just showed a picture of stick figures.

"I want the prettiest girl in the world to see my cool drawing." The teacher suddenly opened her eyelids and cast a warm smile, I swear this teacher is unpredictable at times. The rest of the class looked on in approval and some even snickered.

"Look, Ben, you should show the drawing at recess, and you should be mindful of other's feelings Ben. Next time, just tell me how you feel next time. Now let's resume class." I blushed when he called me the prettiest girl in class. 

Flashback End

Dear god, what a cute memory. I remember after the whole poking situation, he apologize and he offered me Cheez-Its and Oreos and he promise to not do that again. His mom is such a sweet woman that she offers free snacks whenever I come by after she picked Ben up from school and Ben and I tell her about the situation of Ben poking me. After my father died, she offered up her home and she looked after me. I was very grief-stricken, and I was just so heartbroken, that I thought about suicides at times. If it weren't for Ben and his mom, I would probably be at a mental hospital about now. I remember Ben made me watch him play Call of Duty and his drawing pictures of him, calling me the prettiest girl in the world. He also brushes my hair at times and ties my hair with a bow. He even learned how to cook and bake just to help his mom and feed me a lot. You would not believe that his godly mother is freaking Eris or should I say Discordia. How in the world did Ben's mom fall for that, at least that crazy bitch gives me Ben. Everything was so simple back then, but everything changed when a werewolf attacked us when we had just become freshmen in high school.

Flashback (Werewolf Attack)

Ben and I decided to walk in the woods at night and Ben just decided to dance for fun. I joined in for fun. Ben was just wearing black jeans and a band t shirt that says Three Days Grace, while I was wearing a black short, pleated skirt that reaches mid-thigh and the purple Camp Jupiter shirt. Ben was looking at my legs and tried to look away when I caught him. Aww, he's trying not to come off as a pervert, I don't mind if he wants to stare at my legs and wants to peek under my skirt. Hey, I'm a pervert too and I love his butt that needs to be spanked by my hand.

“Must you wear short skirts; you are going to kill half the camp," Ben says with a red face. I love teasing Ben; he is cute when he blushes a lot.

"I'm pretty sure a lot of campers saw my legs and they are still alive and well. You know Ben, I can let you peek under my skirt. Teehee" I chuckle, while Ben yells "GAAAA, you are the worst."

"I Know," I said in a teasing manner.

"But I love you, anyway, come here you" Ben dragged me close to the chest and I blushed. Does Ben see me as a sister or as a girlfriend, hopefully, we can figure it out eventually. I heard a branch crack and suddenly a werewolf appeared out of nowhen like it just appeared as the moon shining on the grass. It was so fast and we didn't bring our weapons with us, It tackled Ben to the ground and I was busy chatting up a fire spell in Latin. Ben somehow manages to stab the werewolf's eye out and drag it across its face. The wolf cried in horror and it became golden dust.

"Good thing I bring my pocket knife everywhere. Hey, everything Hyun" as he laughs in a carefree tone. I was so shocked, we were literally at New Rome's borders, how did a monster find this place? Suddenly a Japanese guy with an eyepatch shows up and he points his blade at Ben's neck.

"It seems to be that you are bitten, my name is Ethan Nakamura and I have been sent here to recruit for Luke Castellan's mission." The Japanese eyepatch guy says with a stoic expression. This guy seems to be a real deal. I look at Ben's neck and it shows a huge bite mark.

"Now then if you work for us, we can help find a cure for your friend. After all, we are fellow children of minor deities. Olympus doesn't care for us and our godly parents, we are expendable. The Titan Army will care for your friend's condition, while you give us intel and kill for us when necessary, now what do you say?" As Ethan holds up his hand I take it.

"No Hyun don't, this guy will just use us for his goal. He works for the Titan army remember, his team has been trying to destroy the world and our home." Ben shouts while Ethan gives him a disdainful look.

"That's the Olympian propaganda speaking to you. For god's sake, you will become a monster and I offering your friend here a chance to cure you. You are a son of Discordia; do you think the gods or even this camp will give a shit about you. Now you hope your friend is smarter than you." Ethan says while I think to myself about Ethan's words. He's right about the gods not caring for us, and it sucks that Ben and I have to keep proving ourselves that we have New Rome's interest at heart a lot more often than children of the Olympian gods. If this eyepatch has a cure for the werewolf bite, then I should take his offer. Ben doesn't deserve to be a monster for the rest of his life. If I just killed the monster sooner, Ben would have not been bitten.

"Fine I agree to those terms, I will be your spy." Ethans looked on in approval and did a small smile while Ben cast a defeated but understanding look.

"Then it is done, welcome to the team Hyun Mun" he shook my hand and left in a puff of smoke. He might as well be a son of Batman with the whole edgy eyepatch and leaving in a smoke.

Flashback End

Once I made the deal with Ethan, I gathered intel for the Titan army and even killed some high-ranking officers for them. I remember their faces; one had a huge nose and a buff body, and the other was a pretty girl. I give them a painless death with this sleep-death spell I created, which means that the spell puts them to sleep, and they die while they are having a pleasant dream. I'm not barbaric, I didn't hate them. I wish someday I could tell them the reason why they lost their lives is because I'm saving my soulmate. I got off very easy for my crimes against New Rome, Reyna has been merciful. All I want to do now is find Ben, give him this cure, and then hopefully I can atone for my actions. Ben didn't agree with me being a spy, but he acted dumb and pretended he had no idea about me being a spy whenever someone was suspicious of my actions did try to make sure that I didn't give Ethan everything and didn't kill a lot of people.

As I walk around the woods a bit, suddenly a portal appears before me, and the half-brother that I escaped from, Alabaster, appears before next to him is a guy in his early 20s with curly blonde hair, a green beach coat, green fedora, a short blade,  and a Nirvana t-shirt. This guy has such a horrible fashion sense, the dude must have shopped at some beach gift store.

“It seems your friends have figured you out half-sister. Look, we will find your boyfriend and will offer up a chance to make things right. Let’s face it, Camp Jupiter will not take you back.” Alabaster says in a condescending matter while the beach guy looks on in sympathy.

"And why should I trust you Alabaster, you serve me in a silver platter to our sister Circle. Thanks, but no thanks.” I angrily say, Man, I am tired of Alabaster shit. He can go fuck off with his Nirvana friend. I can feel my heartbeat goes faster and my body tense up, I am preparing to kick this douche ass.

“Sorry about Alabaster, my name is Ryan Altha and I’m the son of Rhea. We are just here to help you. I have settlement for demi titans and other minor god kids. My mother and her sisters are the leaders of this establishment, our mission is to take care of as many people as possible. Look don't mind Alabaster attitude, but he was a spy for me. He had to pretend that he's with Circle because Circle has been a thorn in our butt for a while." Ryan holds out his hand and he emits a calming aura, and my body is not tensed with rage anymore. Who would have thought the children of Titans existed, I didn’t know that Zeus’s mom had been with a mortal, and I didn't even know that Rhea was helping her kid with this establishment that Ryan had been talking about. This guy, despite his attire, is not one to joke with. I guess I have no choice but to put up with Alabaster bitchass one more time, hopefully, they got some good food at least. I hold up Ryan's hand and I three of us walk to the portal. I guess I’m the luckiest girl alive since I don’t have to sleep in the woods and I can’t wait to meet the Mother of the Gods and her sisters. I hope Rhea is not crazy like her children.

[punk-pins]

with season two airing next week who else got from theories

oh my god do I have theories. my main theory is that

1. the town separated from the timeline in the 1960s-70s, which is when the current system started. all the Things are the original inhabitants of the town that have undergone a process of transformation. in victor’s origin flashback, the merry go round the boy in white plays on isn’t rusted and the town isn’t dilapidated. plus, the clothing of the Things all match that era.

2. I think the town and colony house are from two different timelines that have converged, and the land they’re on might even be a third timeline. it’s the only way I can rationalize the distinctions between jade’s civil war flashbacks/the existence of colony house and the modern town that was built way after that.

3. the Things are like an insect swarm, inspired by cicadas. 1. im an mcr blog 2. they operate under some sort of psychic / hive mind communication, live underground and surface at night, and they rise cyclically. in tabitha’s dream and in boyd’s bottle, I think the numbers are years that correspond to high points in the cycle where they rise and recede. this is what victor was measuring with the trees.

3. the boy in white is separate from the Things, and is legitimately helpful to people by saving them from non-Thing related near death experiences. he only appears to victor after the massacre, to ethan after the crash, and to sarah in the woods in the storm. I trust him.

4. jade, tabitha, and sarah are more susceptible to psychic connections/visions, but the visions can NOT be trusted. just as a Thing spoke to jim over the radio, we do NOT know who is communicating with them. jade is tapped into colony house/the civil war era, tabitha is tapped into the lighthouse, and sarah is just being played.

5. I don’t think they’re dead. I think the conversation between father khatri and tabitha was more to give a nod to the from creator also being the lost creator where spoiler alert they are all already dead. I don’t think it would be the same thing twice. but there ARE some biblical allegories happening. I’ve seen the boy in white is god/the devil/an angel theories but I don’t think that’s what he is but who knows! who fucking knows. if they ARE in a biblically evil place, which I’m not sold on, then someone/thing is controlling the flow in and out of the place.

anyway please send me from theories I need to hear your from theories

[codstatic]

Part 4-Don't play with fire

They stand up quickly blushing, awhile woods and Mason stand there grinning widely. They come closer to Lily and Adler.

Woods puts his hand around Adler shoulder with a grin "I heard you and Hudson, had a fight" he says. Awhile Mason has his hand over lily's shoulder "and I also heard that you two love each other" Mason says.

Adler look at them both, with a cold stare "do you two have anything to do, instead of bothering us"

"Nope, we don't" they say at the time. Lily puts her hands onto her face blushing hard. Mason notices that she is blushing "so what were you guys discussing" Mason asks smiling "none you're business mason" Adler says with a angry tone.

"chill out adler, we be going now, we just want to tease you guys, but uh put a bandaid on you're nose its bleeding" Mason says as he grabs woods "come on frank, let's leave them alone" but woods sighs "fine" as he walks with mason to lily door and closes it behind them.

They leave, lily was still blushing hard but removed her hands off her face.

Adler goes to her and comforts her by patting her head softly "let's go outside of the safe house to have fresh air" he requests. Lily looks at him and nods.

When they starts walking to her door, lily stops Adler "what darling" the word darling made her face even redder "uhh can at least put something on that" she points to his wound on his nose. He nods and takes out a bandaid out his pocket "you telling me you got in a fight and get hurt, and you just have a bandaid in you're pocket" lily says.

Adler grins "you can say I'm a magician, I can make things appear and disappear" he says with a smug look. He puts the bandaid on.

"if you're a magician appear some red roses" she says with a smirk "ok I'm not a magician, but I can get you roses" Adler says as they walk out her room to the front door of the safehouse. Lily chuckles lightly.

they sit down on the grass, it was summer in Berlin and it was a less windy night. They watch the stars "what we gonna do Adler, Hudson knows that we have a love interest with each other" lily says worried. Adler just grins "he won't do nothing, I told him if he touch or yell at you I will kick his ass"

Lily blushed "oh thank you I guess" as she smiles. Adler was different man, then when he was back when he would brainwash her. But something was still bugging lily why her, he has a ex wife and middle age he would be not looking for a relationship so why, she was 36 years old woman, a firecracker, shy, with a trouble past, dealing with trust issues, but caring, sweet, loving so why did Adler love her, she loves him too but scared at the same time because her ex boyfriend will beat her, cheats on her, and leaving her with so emotion trauma and with trust issues.

So even time Adler or someone in the safehouse hug her or yell at her , lily would be get scared and try to get away from the person. But comforting her with hugs it feels nice but she doesn't know to approach it so she just hides. Adler notices that she is little bit away from him on the grass "what's wrong lily" she doesn't say anything, he puts his hand on hers "lily, tell me what's wrong please" she still not saying anything and not looking at him.

Adler softly grabs her chin to make her looks at her, she looks at him with fear and Adler notices this.

-flashback-

"LOOK AT ME WHEN IM TELLING YOU" as her ex grabbing her chin roughy, with tears steaming down her cheeks "please stop"she says. But he just slaps her knocking her on the ground. The sobs of lily made him grin widely "you know lily seeing you like this, makes me feel very happy" he says with a dark laugh.

She on the ground whimpering and crying. She crawls away but stop by a foot on he's back stopping her. He smirks "now where you going, I'm not done with you" he grabs her neck collar behind her head, pulling her aggressively, making her have hard time to breath. He bends down to her ear awhile grabbing a near by table to grab a knife, putting it on her neck "you will listen to me, if you don't I will slit you're throat, do you understand" he says lowly, she quickly nods "good" he says dropping her on the ground.

-end the flashback-

"lily please tell me what's wrong, you can tell me anything, please darling" Adler pleads. Lily goes into Adler chest crying. Adler hugs her tightly and starts rubbing her back calming her down "my ex.. would do things to me that damage me, he would beat me, call me names, cheat on me and h-" she was stop by a pair lips on hers, she flutters her eyes closed, melting from the touch. They open there eyes, their foreheads touch each other "I won't never do that to you, I love you lily, I care about you, what he did was disgusting and I hope his ass is in jail and never gets out, you're safe lily" he says kissing her forehead.

Adler wipes her tears "you're pretty, cute,caring,loving person lily" he says by removing his shades. Now his ocean blue eyes was looking at hers sapphire ones.

Lily smiles "I love you Russell" she says hugging him "and I love you lily" he hugs her back.

"it's getting late, let's go in" he stands up with lily in his hand grinning, she stands up with a smile and they start walking to the safehouse.

[lyssiesleakedmemos]

Dave and the darkness

Real life 🌶

TW mentions of SA and CNC

What started as a soft vinette around my eyes had become the earth being engulfed in darkness. With every moment that passed, less of the world was left to behold. Only as the last glimmer of day light faded did I pry Dave's hand off my throat.

Panting, I reflected on how I got here and where I was going. I'm sure it started with a "we can't do this anymore," and with any slower reflexes was ending with me unconscious in Dave's car. How long would I have been out? What would have been next?

The world still blurred and sparkled when I felt his hand grip my throat again... This man would never kill me, but he's sure to be the death of me.

But of course, that's the tale from the perspective of the damsel in distress, the little lamb torn to shreds by the glowing eyes in the woods. Lying by omission can be a funny thing.

The truth is as panicked as i was, the dark was inviting, and if I could have used my last conscious breath to say anything, I would have given him permission to use my body as he saw fit until I came to. I fantasized about that very thing long before I was at his mercy, before I got in the car, before I painted my face like a wreckable whore this morning.

No matter how many times "just friends" spilled from my lips, I would fan the flames, keep the door ajar while batting my lashes up at this man. Touch him first everytime than play oh so confused when he's gripping my head, shoving himself into my mouth. As if the bimbo brain rot of his presence erased every moment in between of kissing him, dolleyed and giggling every time he man handled me.

There is no "just friends" through the thick cloud of sexual tension, and years and miles have proven there is no us without that tension. "No," I can muster, "never," I can not.

Because we have just the thing the other needs whether we want to need it at all.

I need to fight him like my life depends on it, then I need him to show me I'd never win. Resisting, pleading, incompasitated, unconscious. His choice, my escape from it. Forbidden therapy sessions where I hand over the burden of control while turning that pesky trauma into something I like remembering. When the flashbacks of being powerless come, as they always do, I want it to be him as the beast over me this time.

Because I chose him.

Because I let him.

We just never got it quite right, the right timing, mental state, the right conversations prior to become the dark romance novel it could have been. I spend nights reading the book that was never written writhing over every agonizing detail.

Maybe those will always be the fantasies living and dying trapped within my mind and blogs I choose to over share. I won't ruin the fun and list all the reasons why it was always so complicated, many of which are new to me and completely unknown to him to this day. You'll just have to take my word.

Maybe Dave's character died off when he moved out of state, deleted his Facebook, and joined the corporate world. Alternatively, maybe the hardest part is I know he's still one text away from taking a trip, you know, for the sake of therapy, of course.

[aquagustd]

rewind - JJK

after two years, jungkook made the decision to finally go back to you, knowing he has a lot of explaining to do — but you in the arms of another man, with a child that resembles you in every way, was the last thing he expected to see.

☆ flashback drabble for hell is empty ☆

pairing — jungkook x reader, ft. hoseok x reader

genre/rating — R | angst, fluff, exes au

word count — 7.1K

play — dark red by steve lacy, only you by selena gomez

warnings/tags — strong language, unplanned pregn@ncy, mentions of bl00d & vi0lence, mentions of drvg vse, allusions to 4b0rtion, 1 🥊 scene, LOTS OF FEELINGS, & arguments & bickering oh god it’s angsty, kissing, money issues, jungkook’s POV !!

note: this can be read as a stand alone but it’s best if you start with the series first !! the first half is jungkook’s pov so it’s all over the place !! the return of the unnamed narrator

Jungkook’s heart hammers against his ribcage, his legs aching from how much he ran over the last half hour.

He pretty much ran for his life, Sora did too. And she’s still running. Jungkook watches in awe, wondering how she can keep going when he feels like he might collapse any second. Must’ve wanted to get out of that place as bad as him.

She slows to a jog, the moonlight serving as their only source of illumination as they navigate through the dark. It’s too early to bring out the torches, since it would be easier for Yang’s goons to find them.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going?”

Sora spins around, walking backward as she speaks around a sly grin.

“I grew up here, whenever my dad would bring enough people over, I would sneak out and come here.”

He cocks a brow, jerking so his backpack would sit better on his shoulders, “sneak out? The woods isn’t a safe place for a little girl.”

Jungkook stiffens as she drags a nail down the side of his face, obstructing his path.

“You should know by now that nothing scares me.”

“I know.” Jungkook mutters, hoping she would move away quickly. Which she does, parading around the trees before swinging her bag over her shoulder then stopping abruptly.

Too busy keeping an eye out behind them, he bumps into her back, hearing her giggle.

“I think we should camp out here for the night.”

Jungkook huffs, flinging down his backpack and falling to his knees, scrubbing his hands down his face.

“Final—”

Rustling somewhere to their left startles him to his feet, hair at the back of his head raising. Sora shares his expression, eyes wide and alert before she continues on her path.

“We should probably go a little further.”

Jungkook tsks, nearly falling on his ass with the weight of his backpack, “you said we should camp out there.”

“I know,” she titters, still fizzing with energy after running and walking all day, “but I think it’s still too close.”

Jungkook swats a branch out of his face, “I can’t fucking see a thing.”

“Then turn on your flashlight, and risk us both getting caught.”

Grumbling to himself, he decides to keep his eyes on the ground and stay close to Sora, ears burning with the sudden cold that hits them as they trek up a steep hill, then back down.

He enjoys the walk downhill, but when they take a similar walk up another embankment, he’s wondering if Sora is just playing games with him.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have placed all his trust in her. She is Yang’s daughter after all.

“So, how long has it been since you saw your girlfriend?”

At the mention of you, Jungkook flushes, nearly tripping over a large tree trunk before he catches himself, wiping his hands on his flannel.

“Erm…I don’t know, really. But it’s been a while.”

She hops over a wet patch of grass, prompting him to do the same.

“Since you joined my father, right?”

“Yeah.”

She hums, skirt twirling with her as she faces him, “so two years.”

“Yeah. Damn,” he says as that fact sinks in, “two years.”

The hum she lets out next has Jungkook raising an eyebrow, growing suspicious as she continues to ask more questions.

“And how long have you been dating?”

His fingers curl around her wrist, voice lowering, “why do you wanna know?”

She shrugs, the least bit bothered by his threatened stance, “just asking.”

“Sure you’re still not over being one of your father’s scapegoats?”

Sora rolls her eyes, short fingers plucking his hand away from hers that was caught in his merciless grip.

“Over a year of being partners and you still don’t trust me?”

Jungkook drops her hand, bumping her shoulder as he marches ahead of her. She overtakes him, waving a hand in his face.

“I’m just wondering…”

“What?”

She tosses a clump of hair over her shoulder, the smell of her shampoo hitting his nostrils instantly. A sweet, tropical scent.

“Two years…you don’t think she’s found someone new?”

A boisterous laugh bubbles from Jungkook’s lips, staring at her in disbelief.

Sora’s gaze shifts from side to side, “I’m just saying…it is possible. If she’s as beautiful and amazing as you say she is. Then I’m sure someone must’ve tried to…snatch her.”

Jungkook waves a hand, gesturing for her to stop walking as he lowers onto a large boulder, hands pressed to his knees.

“Let me tell you something about ___, okay?” He holds up his hands, listing off each quality on his fingers. “She’s loyal, honest, caring, selfless and she loves me far too much to even look at another guy.”

Sora nods, resuming her walk uphill while Jungkook stumbles on his feet to follow, his thoughts now filled by you and your cute face.

This feels surreal to him. Finally breaking free from Yang’s clutches with the help of his daughter. Able to see you after two years.

The first thing he’ll do is kiss you. No. He’ll hug you and tell you how much he missed you. Then hug you and then kiss you. Maybe take things further because he’s missed you SO MUCH. All he dreamt about was the feel of your skin on his, your lips connected, gasping as he makes sweet, sweet love to you.

But it’s also Yoongi’s wedding. So, there’s plenty of other things he’d have to do first to get to the good part, like explain why he left. Also, the money Yoongi took. It’s alright, he already forgave him for it, but they’d have to work something out.

Jungkook wouldn’t care if it was his money, since he and Yoongi helped each other out since middle school. But this isn’t his money. And he had to bear the brunt.

He shivers, rubbing his palms together as his thoughts is carried back to you and your sweet smile. It’s all planned out in his head, and there’s only one thing left to do and that’s travel to Labendeo for the wedding. And meet Yoongi’s wife. Since he’s never met her before.

God. Yoongi’s getting married. He heard about it years ago, and he can only hope that the date didn’t change, that the little informers he had here and there didn’t give him false information and he makes it on time for the ceremony.

Still, it’s so funny to think about. Yoongi met the love of his life and he’s decided that he wants to spend the rest of his life with her. He wishes he was there for Yoongi, guiding him through it all.

But what does he know about marriage? About spending the rest of your life with one person? About settling down and making your own family?

All he knows it you.

It clicks for him.

When you’re far away, safe from harm and all the bullshit – he’ll marry you. Spending the rest of his life with you seems like a dream.

But he’s getting too excited. He needs to get to you first then think about the future.

A white beam of light pierces his eyes, forcing him to shield his face as he squints at Sora.

“We’d have to cross this to get to the other side, then we can set up there for the night.”

Jungkook switches on his flashlight, jaw dropping when he sees the light hit the ripples of what appears to be a lake.

“Are you fucking kidding? It’s freezing out here.”

His toes clench from the thought of swimming in this cold. Hugging himself as he tries to find the end of the lake.

“What? Scared of getting a little wet?”

Jungkook grits his teeth, tipping his chin up as she steps into his personal space, her scent invading his senses.

“No, it’s just cold. And I don’t want to get eaten by crocodiles.”

She laughs, the sound echoing behind him which has a shiver running down Jungkook’s spine.

“It’s not that deep, come on. Unless you want them to find you and you risk dying at the hands of—”

“No—” Jungkook slides down the steep slope with her, feeling the temperature drop instantly “—I’m good.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen as she tosses him her flashlight, reaching for the hem of her shirt to pull over her head and kick off her skirt. When their eyes meet, Jungkook averts his gaze, blinking away the image of her svelte body.

“I don’t mind if you look.”

Cursing himself, he dares to look again, only because it’s too quiet. But he hears the splash before he sees it, rushing to kick off his cargo pants and jump into the water.

Thank God his backpack is waterproof, but it’s fucking heavy. He has all his belongings stuffed in one bag. He can’t lose this, so he’d just have to push through.

Legs kicking at the water, his mind calms once his body gets accustomed to the temperature, keeping the flashlight tucked in his bag. But at some point, it all becomes too much, and it feels more like sinking than swimming.

He was the fastest swimmer in his class, always. Now what’s happening to him? It must be this damn bag, he muses.

The water is icy cold, tastes like drain, smells even worse. Only when he hears a shout of his name does he get a grip of his thoughts, seeing Sora hunch over the edge and reach out for him.

As if she can pull him up, he takes her hand, hoisting himself up and over. Rolling onto his back, he catches his breath, feeling her fingers brush his bare chest.

“You okay?”

“Cold.”

She’s already on her feet, pulling out a dry set of clothes and wringing out her hair. The longer Jungkook sits, the more numb he feels, the cold suddenly warm. And how he experienced the same when he was in the water.

“Hey!” Sora snaps her fingers in front of his face, jolting him awake, “there’s no time to sleep. We need to move.”

“What?” He pouts, sitting up on his knees, “I thought we were gonna spend the night here. I didn’t carry that tent all the way.”

“We—”

“There they are!” A voice resounds in the dark space, followed by an engine revving.

“FUCK!”

“Turn off your light!”

Jungkook scrambles for his flashlight, reaching into his bag for whatever clothing he can find and sprinting after Sora. The thunderous footsteps behind him get louder and louder along with the car crunching into the sand.

And he’s running again, running with no end in sight. Except bright lights and honking cars. They’re back in the city again and all Jungkook can think about is how Sora said she wants to get away too, so she couldn’t have set him up.

He trusts that she knows what she’s doing. Following her through a narrow alleyway then over a fence, struggling with his backpack as he stumbles after her.

They approach a tall building, sliding under the boom gate then up the winding pathway, a brightly lit garage, deserted during the part of the night.

“Where the fuck are we going Sora?!”

She points to the left, holding out a pair of car keys.

Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief, but that breath is knocked out of his lungs when something hard smacks into his stomach, knocking him to his feet. His vision is doubled, shaking away the illusion before he’s pressed to the ground again, his backpack a few feet away.

“Fucking ungrateful. After so much Yang did for you.”

A sharp noise filters into his left ear as his head meets the cement, the taste of metal flooding his mouth. He presses his hands to the ground, sitting up before he’s smacked to the ground again, voices muffled.

“Hey, shitface!”

A loud clank echoes in the capacious garage, the sound keeping him awake before he’s pulled up to a seated position.

“You okay? Hey! What’s your name?!”

Jungkook shakes his head, blinking once, twice, thrice, before Sora’s face comes into view. A man wearing a familiar brown leather jacket laying behind her, unconscious.

“Jeon…Jungkook.”

She huffs out a ‘thank fuck,’ rising to her feet. Jungkook looks around, crawling over to his backpack and putting his arms through the loops.

“Sorry about that. I didn’t see him coming.”

Jungkook presses a hand to his forehead, the throb in his left eye almost unbearable.

“Me neither.”

Jungkook’s never been more afraid in his life when the sound of a car engine fills up the space, approaching them at a fast speed as he follows Sora up the next level. But it’s no use, since they’re on foot.

“How far is your car?”

Sora shakes her head, cheeks red with exertion, “the highest level.”

“Fuck.”

If Jungkook wasn’t fast enough, he would’ve been plastered against the wall. But he stops in time, heartbeat so loud in his ears as he watches two men step out of the car. Their faces familiar to him, but he can’t recall their names as hard as he tries.

What scares him is the gvns they might possess, hidden somewhere in their jackets. And Jungkook was dumb, he didn’t think to carry any weap0ns. All he did was run. Maybe Sora wasn’t as dumb as him.

“Everything is in my car,” she whispers, her back pressed to his.

“How would that help us now?!”

Jungkook holds up his fists, pushing away the ache in his knee and head as the two men waste no time catching them in their arms. But Jungkook manages to dodge his blow, reaching under to slam his fist into his jaw.

He stumbles backward, cracking his neck to the side before leaping toward Jungkook. They stir and shake, he sends Jungkook flying into one of the car windows, shards of glass flying everywhere. Jungkook touches the corner of his lip, red liquid trickling down his fingers. Sora’s still in the man’s hold, wriggling and squirming.

With renewed energy, one goal on his mind, he feels his anger bubble over, face growing impossibly hot as the man swings but continues to miss.

He’d have to deal with them one by one. Jungkook’s throws are scarce, but powerful, getting the man where it hurts as he crams his head into the window, knocking him down with a h!t to the side of his head.

Sora grips the other man’s hands, her eyes trying to convey a message to Jungkook with expressive lifts of her brows.

“This was your plan all along, Jeon,” he huffs, twisting around each step Jungkook takes, “work from the inside to take Yang down.”

She gestures to the side with her eyes, mouthing out ‘in his jacket’ – and Jungkook catches on immediately. Buying her time by distracting him.

Jungkook chuckles lowly, hands on his hips, “why would I want to take Yang down?”

The man smirks, slick back hair coming loose as Sora stirs in his arms, “you run away with his daughter and get all the secrets to his success.”

Jungkook sucks in a breath, “eh I wouldn’t say that.”

In a split second, Sora reaches into his jacket and pulls out his gvn, holding it up to his throat. His arms stretch over his head, releasing Sora from his grip.

She returns to Jungkook’s side, keeping the gvn in line with the man. His eyes are filled with fear, any trace of pride sinking away as she moves closer and closer.

“Go to the car, Jungkook. I’ll deal with him.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow, “what? No. I’ll deal with him.”

“Jungk—”

He sinks down and reaches into his partners jacket pocket, falling flat onto his belly when Sora f!res. But misses, having him squirm up till Jungkook presses his foot into his back, keeping him in place.

“You’re fucking pathetic, Jeon.”

Jungkook’s words die on his tongue when he feels an acute pain in his side, horror bleeding out with him when he finds a shard of glass lodged into his side, held by the man he thought he dealt with earlier.

He kicks the man’s shin, yanking the piece of glass out of his side and kneeling over his figure to end him once and for all. But Sora gets to him first. Another shot and they’re alone. Watching at the two men lay motionless before they sprint to the highest floor. Jungkook can feel the adrenaline thrumming through his veins, buzzing as it travels throughout his body.

A silver Supra is parked at the end of the lot, waiting there for Sora. She opens the passenger side door first, helping Jungkook in and holding up his shirt to inspect the damage. He tried to play it off earlier, but once he’s idle, the pain takes his breath away.

“Fuck.”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, hunched over as he hears her rattle in the back seat. Her cool hands back on his skin.

“I found a first aid kit here,” she says, her voice trembling, “I’ll have to st!tch you up.”

He nods, licking his lips as his fingers twist in the seat, his side throbbing but still warm.

“Just…d-do what you need to do.”

“You’ll have to take off your shirt.”

Hurriedly, he pulls his shirt over his head, slumping in his seat as he keeps his eyes scrunched shut. Not wanting to witness the bl00d seeping out of his wound.

“Shit, there’s a piece of glass still stuck in there.”

“Just do what you have to do,” he whimpers, head pressing into the backrest once she begins poking at the wound.

“I think we should get out of here,” she suggests, her voice a little distant. “He must’ve sent more of them.”

“NO!” Jungkook grabs her arm, pulling her to her knees. “You fix this now.”

The back of her hand meets his forehead, concern brimming her eyes, “you’re heating up.”

His words blur into each other, “j-just…”

Thoughts fading out completely.

In and out of consciousness.

Mumbling your name.

Jungkook wakes up to a warm breeze hitting his face, a bitter taste in his mouth as he sits upright. Startled when he catches sight of his reflection in the sideview mirror.

Eyes and lip red and swollen.

He clutches his side, a neat bandage wrapped around his waist. Sora sits in the driver’s seat, one hand gripping the wheel while the other holds up her head, gaze skating from the road to him.

“Good morning.”

Jungkook presses a hand to his eye, squinting into the sunlight, “morning.”

“You said the wedding is in Labendeo, right?”

He nods, still taking stock of his surroundings.

“Do you have water?” He croaks, checking in the backseat as soon as she juts her thumb toward the back, finding a bottle and his backpack.

“You should probably get dressed,” she informs, pointing to the dash, “we’re running low on gas but I think we can make it.”

Jungkook nods again, his voice stuck in his throat as he puts on a white shirt and another blue flannel, bucket hat snug on his head. The events of last night hit him full force, the aches and pains very much fresh and throbbing.

“We��re almost there.”

He perks up, rolling down his window and leaning over, breathing in the salty air. He can smell the beach. And he can almost smell you.

Just like that, everything is forgotten, because he’s sure that once he sees your face and you see him, it’ll be like a day hasn’t passed since the last time kissed you.

The cool brick presses into your shoulders as Hoseok backs you into the corner, a mischievous smile tugging at his lips before his mouth connects with yours, humming into the sloppy mix of tongue and teeth. You tug at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer. He seems to get the hint, groaning as he finds your thigh and hooks it around his waist, rings meeting the silk of your dress.

Your arms wind around his neck, lips suckling his as you sway giddily, hearing him moan when your fingers catch onto his hair, anchoring him to you. He lets you go with a small nibble to your bottom lip, making you giggle as he peppers kisses down the column of your throat, the chilly air hitting each wet spot he leaves to have you trembling, wanting more.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?”

You roll your eyes, pushing him away gently so he’ll meet your gaze.

“Yeah, only like…a thousand times.”

Fingers dancing down the side of your neck, he tips your chin up with his thumb, heart-shaped smile in place.

“And I’ll say it a thousand more.”

Heat creeps into your cheeks, you attempt to mask your embarrassment by tucking your face into his neck, leaving a peck on his jaw as he holds you close, keeping you warm in his embrace while your heart begins to race.

“You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you laugh coyly, taking a deep inhale of his rich scent, “so do you.”

Fiddling with his tie, you busy yourself by fixing his appearance, avoiding that sombre stare he has set on your face.

“Can’t believe the day is finally here,” he sighs, the sound tapering into a chuckle, “Yoongi’s getting married.”

“I know,” you snort, patting his shoulders for good measure as you make your way around the path up to the front of the hall, “we’ve been planning for months now. At last, they settled on a small, intimate thing. Thank God. Don’t think I’d be able to handle all the peop—”

Hoseok yanks you back to your initial spot, fingers curled around your wrist while the other holds a cigarette between his lips, releasing a cloud of smoke as he cocks his head to the side, smile replaced with an apathetic expression.

“Maybe it’s time I settle down too,” he trails off, the corner of his mouth quirking to the side as he studies your face.

Your chest undulates with ragged breaths, knowing exactly where he’s going with this since he brought it up many times before. Only this time, after helping Yuri prepare for her big day, your own future sealed since you’d be graduating next year, you’ve been thinking a lot…

“What do you think? I take you,” he begins, keeping his voice low, but assertive, choosing his words carefully, “and Junho with me when I decide to leave. Hmm?”

You blink, chuckling in disbelief like you always do. But the little jump his eyebrow does tells you that this time – he’s serious.

“Do you think we can do that? Me and you? Settle down and do all this shit—” he gestures to the hall behind you, the noise and clamour filtering through the windows.

As he waits for your answer, you wait too. Asking yourself the same questions. And deep down, you know the answer. You do. You knew it since the first time he asked you. Can you see a future with him? The man who manages to sweep you off your feet every single time you’re in his presence. You’d utter the smallest ‘ow’ and he’d be there in the blink of an eye. If it was one of those nights, where Junho would refuse to sleep, throwing a tantrum, he’d offer to take turns to keep an eye on him so you could get some rest.

You want to say yes, it’s there. On the tip of your tongue, but something clings onto the word. Refusing to let it spill from your lips and allow some peace to wash away your worries.

“You know what my days are like,” he rushes to say, squeezing your arms so tight you forget where your skin begins and his touch ends, “I can take care of you, and Junho. I know I haven’t been the best influence…that’s what Yoongi says—” he chuckles dryly, eyes not leaving yours for a moment “—but we can be better. Better parents for Smiley.”

Parents.

Better parents for Smiley.

That’s what he needs, right? More than anything. The answers you seek shouldn’t come from your desires, that’d be selfish.

The lightest graze of his thumb dusts your cheek, forehead nearing yours, “I can be better for you.”

You suck in a sharp breath, willing yourself to say the word but there it is. The hope you have, holding onto it so desperately, that someday Jungkook would return, and he’d be better for you and Junho too. Better than now. Better than before. Better than ever.

Shaking your head furiously, you try to erase that image from your head, placing your hand on his as a lump forms in your throat.

“Ok—”

“There she is!”

Hoseok snaps away from you as if burnt, but you discover that he is, rubbing away at the ash that had fallen on his hand. The look he sends you is a little wizened from earlier, still, his eyes flash with promise.

“We’ve been looking all for you!” Yoongi exclaims, bouncing Junho on his hip as he shuffles down the path to you.

Cooing, you take Junho from him and tuck his shirt back inside his pants, fixing the tiny bowtie that had gone skew on his way to the back of the hall.

Hoseok pats Yoongi on his back, arm slinging around his shoulders, “what are you doing out here, hyung? The show’s about to start.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, wriggling out of Hoseok’s hold, arms sticking out rigidly.

“I was looking for you, Smiley was nagging a bit and yes, we’re about to start.”

You pinch Junho’s cheek, nuzzling into his neck, “you were looking for me? Sorry, mamma left you for a while.”

Junho’s sticks his finger into the corner of his mouth, drool bubbling out to drip down his chin. Huffing, you reach into your purse to grab his face towel, but Hoseok beats you to it, dabbing Junho’s chin haphazardly with his handkerchief.

“You’re being a messy boy today, hm? Don’t ruin your suit just yet! We still need to take pictures.”

Hoseok receives a gurgle as a response, two bunny teeth sticking out as Junho mumbles out what sounds a lot like ‘boongi,’ shoving a sticky finger in his direction. You join in their laughter, watching with a bursting heart as Junho makes grabby hands for Hoseok, nearly leaping out of your arms.

Yoongi scratches his ear, shuffling from foot to foot, “we should get going.”

As you spin around, handing Junho over to Hoseok, the sound of gravel crackling behind you makes you pause, along with Yoongi and Hoseok.

He stands with his mouth hanging open, one eye swollen, half-closed as he blinks at the three of you. More specifically, gaping at the baby in Hoseok’s arms. Your throat works wildly, blinking at him as your legs turn to jelly, heart threatening to break free from your chest.

“Jungkook—” Yoongi laughs, the surprise evident in his voice. Still, he rushes toward Jungkook, pulling him in for a hug that Jungkook doesn’t return, his icy eyes on you as you begin to sob. “I didn’t think you’d come! Wow! You actually remembered the date—”

He shoves Yoongi away. Hard. So hard he hurtles toward you, Hoseok catching him by the arms as Junho squeaks, so clueless.

Unaware that his father stands before him.

“What is your problem?” Hoseok barks, pulling Yoongi to his feet while the older man seems hurt, dusting at his hands.

Jungkook says nothing, bl00dy hand raised as he points an accusing finger at Yoongi, jaw rolling.

“Don’t you fucking dare talk to me.”

You look between the two of them, puzzled. But after hearing his voice, something overcomes your senses, forcing you to take a few steps forward, arms outstretched.

“Jungkook,” you mumble, hands trembling as you search his eyes. But they’re blank, empty. Not what you expected when you would finally reunite. His face is scarred, lip split open, the skin around his eye reddish blue and bulging.

“I wasn’t surprised when I found out that Yoongi left with the money,” he begins, tone sharp and piercing straight through your battered heart, “I wasn’t surprised when I found out that you left with him too. But you? And Jung Hoseok. And a child. That fucking surprised me.”

Yoongi steps around you, as if he could shield you from Jungkook’s wounding words.

“Listen,” Yoongi pants, waving a finger in Jungkook’s face.

Jungkook chuckles bitterly, the sound sends a chill down your spine. Unrecognizable and grating.

“No, you’re gonna pay me back,” Jungkook spits, poking at Yoongi’s chest, “every fucking cent. Because that wasn’t MY fucking money! Do you what I had to go through?! All because of you and your fucking greed! One way or another you will get that money back…”

Yoongi splutters, pinching at the bridge of his nose while you’re watching through with blurry eyes, the air in your lungs feeling frozen.

“I’m not greedy Jungkookie, I did what was best for me and –”

“___? My girlfriend? The girl I asked to wait so…” He shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. Your name like venom on his tongue. “I asked her to wait and there she goes and gets knocked up like a fucking—”

“Hey! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Yoongi shouts, grabbing hold of Jungkook’s shoulders, “are you fucking insane? That is your fucking baby!”

Jungkook’s lips contort into a grin, disbelief written across his face. He shakes his head, limping as he charges in your direction, scanning Junho’s face.

“That’s not my baby.”

You turn to Hoseok, seeing his nostrils flare as he cups the back of Junho’s head, covering his ears with his free hand. You’re staring at Junho’s eyes that peek over Hoseok’s shoulder, wondering how Jungkook can come to that conclusion when Junho’s the splitting image of himself.

“Jungkook,” you try, reaching for his shoulder with shaky hands, “Jungkook, he’s our—”

“NO!” He growls, so loud you shrink in on yourself.

“What do you mean ‘no’?!” You shriek, just as loud as him, “how could you know? You weren’t fucking here!”

“I know that’s not my fucking child!”

“Jungkook,” you shout through your tears, gasping when he shrugs off your hand as you reach for his shoulder, “Jungkook, please. You have to listen to me.”

His head turns, eyes blazing as he narrows his eyes at you, “you think I didn’t see you just now? I was watching you two.”

Throat going dry, you turn to Hoseok. Pleading with him. Pleading with him? Why? So he’ll tell Jungkook that nothing’s going on between you? That Junho isn’t his child.

Hoseok says nothing, his lips pressed into a terse line as he cradles Junho to his chest, eyeing Yoongi.

“You left for two years, Jungkook.” Yoongi says finally, his words hanging in the air as you all take that in. His voice is calm, counteracting Jungkook’s defence as he grits his teeth.

“And I said to wait.” He says resolutely, glaring at you as you wipe away your tears, mascara running down your cheeks.

“For two years? Nearly two years without any contact?”

Jungkook runs his tongue over his teeth, readjusting his backpack strap before he grabs your arm abruptly, dragging you to the garden a few feet away, far from inquisitive ears. You’re slammed into the wall near the back door, shaking as he levels you with a daunting stare.

“Jungkook,” you quake, interlocking your fingers, “you have to believe me. That’s our baby.”

“I don’t have much time,” he breathes out, eyes shifting, “I need you to come with me.”

Perplexed, you narrow your eyes at him, breath stalling in your chest.

“Go with you? Where?”

“Far away,” he huffs, “I came back for you. Like I said I would.”

“Jungkook…”

“Are you coming or not?”

You scan his face, whimpering, “Jungkook.”

“We can leave all this behind.” He tips his head in the direction of the parking lot, where Hoseok and Yoongi stand. Junho gripping onto Hoseok’s dress pants.

“Leave all this behind?”

He nods shakily, “everything.”

“Everything? What do you mean by everything?”

“All your mistakes, including the one you made with Jung Hoseok.”

Alarmed, you manage to sidestep around his figure, blood rushing to your head.

“That. Is. Your. Baby. Junho is your baby. I found out that I was pregnant not long after you left.”

Shoulders sagging, he exhales a deep sigh, as if he’s exhausted after hearing your nonsense.

You shake your head vehemently, tears springing to your eyes once again. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No, what the hell is wrong with you?! I came back, especially for you, risking my life and this is what I get. Fuck’s sake.”

“What did you expect?!”

“That you come back with me!”

“I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You want me to leave my baby behind!” You blubber, throwing up your arms exasperatedly.

This is not the same man who left all those months ago.

“Jungkook.” Surging forward, you capture his face between your palms, reconnecting your gazes. “Do you have any idea what I’ve been through without you? I don’t know what happened between you and Yoongi, but he helps out a lot. I barely have enough money to buy diapers and pay for tuition. And I graduate next year, I can get a better job here. Finally, be able to afford whatever we need and not sacrifice dinner every now and again.”

“Well, those extra costs could’ve been taken care of easily.”

You blink, “what?”

He bares his teeth, “you didn’t have to go through all of that. You couldn’t easily gotten rid of it.”

You stumble away, “it?”

The way he speaks about Junho, as if you didn’t already make your choice, as if he isn’t already here with you. If your heart wasn’t broken before, it’s shattered now, Jungkook’s name lost in those pieces.

“We never talked about it,” you intone, voice a lot steadier than your heartbeat, “we were too young to ever talk about it. I knew I had a choice, but that little piece of you, growing inside me kept me going. Because I never knew if you were gonna come back. You stopped calling. And with each passing day, I grew attached. Till I knew that I couldn’t let go.”

His fist clenches and unclenches, gaze drawn to the ground.

“Nine months passed quickly,” you chuckle wistfully, recalling the moment you heard Junho’s little cry for the first time ever, “and before I knew it, he became my new best friend. A mini you. Have you seen him?”

No response. His arms like sticks at his sides.

“He looks exactly like you and some days I would think to myself…’wow, what would I have done if you weren’t around?’ He helped me learn to live without you, even if I did keep waiting. If I did wake up every morning hoping to receive a call or a message from you, but it never came. Do you know what that’s like? To wait without any knowledge of an end?”

You take another step forward, asking him to look at you. And when he does, it’s the same, unrecognizable man.

“I don’t think I can live without my baby, Jungkook.”

His gaze tilts lower as he nods to himself, tongue prodding at his cheek.

“What’s that smell?”

Before you can answer, he leans forward, nose brushing your neck as he sniffs. You go rigid, eyelashes fluttering with the warmth of his breath as he speaks, the same warmth draining from your body when you hear his words.

“Is that weed?”

No matter how much you swallow, that lump refuses to go down, heart sinking to the pit of your stomach.

“Was it really that tough? You’re forgetting where I come from, ___. I can see it from a mile away.”

He rushes past you, heading toward the parking lot while you follow on shaky legs, a sour taste on your tongue.

“I bet it was him,” he chuckles bitterly, “he got you so fucking caught up in all this bullshit.”

Yoongi catches Jungkook’s arm, but Jungkook is too focused on cussing Hoseok out to care. Junho’s bottom lip wobbles, toppling over before he starts to cry, wailing as you pick him up and hold him to your chest, his black blazer wet with your tears.

“For fuck’s sake,” Jungkook explodes, head whipping around to shoot daggers at Junho who continues to cry.

“Yoongi.”

The sound of the voice comes from beyond the backdoor, Yuri emerging with handfuls of her wedding dress held up as she approaches you, eyes filled with worry. She comes to you first, patting Junho’s back as his cries die down, while you’re trying to tell her that it’s bad luck for Yoongi to see her in her gown before the ceremony, but she dismisses it as a superstition, eyes set on Jungkook.

“So much for that good mother persona of yours,” Jungkook says outraged, turning to Yoongi with his gaze latched onto yours, “look at her. She’s fucking gone.”

Yoongi purses his lips, eyes downcast, “she’s not.”

“Look at her fucking eyes. You did a shitty fucking job of taking care of her. Now she’s a fucking ston—”

Yuri’s head snaps in his direction, palm held over Junho’s ear, “watch your mouth.”

He laughs bitterly, shoulders shaking, “with a mother like her that’s the last thing you should be worried about.”

Yoongi catches Jungkook’s arm in his, carting him toward the gate while you watch with an empty heartbeat.

“Time for you to go.”

By now, everyone that’s supposed to be seated inside the hall watches as Jungkook is escorted out of the parking lot, body twisted as he continues to call out your name, along with other, terrible names, while you’re hyperaware of everyone watching the interaction. Especially Yuri’s parents. The first time you meet them, and this is what unfolds, tainting the image they have of you.

More than that, you’re hurt. Heart ripped into countless tiny pieces.

When you looked forward to meeting Jungkook again after all these years, this was not what you envisioned. And you can’t help but blame yourself.

Temples throbbing, Jungkook scampers up the bank and over the ledge, retracing his steps. Empty handed.

The last thing he wants to do is think, think about the way you kissed another man so passionately, held him close to you exactly the way he used to. The child he’s one hundred percent sure isn’t his, so comfortable between you and Jung Hoseok. The perfect, little family. What you always wanted. What you knew he couldn’t give you when you wanted it.

Simply because he wasn’t there?

Or for other reasons?

What feels worse than a punch in the gut is the fact that he didn’t know. He didn’t know that you wanted it. But now it’s clear as day. With the choice you made and the fact that he has to return to the car without you, and rethink his entire life.

Starting from the day he met you.

The fucking pain in his side worsened when Yoongi’s elbow brushed that spot. Fucking Yoongi. Kept so much secrets from him. But his betrayal doesn’t come close to yours.

But now he’s tired of thinking. Less thinking, more doing.

Sora sits on the hood of her car, hopping off when she sees Jungkook rush over to her.

“Where is sh—”

The back of Jungkook’s head simmers when he presses his lips to hers and she starts to kiss him back, collapsing onto the hood once again as he climbs on top of her and moves his lips swiftly, tasting the sweetness of her lip gloss he craved for over a year now. Satisfaction washing over him in cathartic waves.

Jungkook eats up her moans, shrugging off his backpack as he sits up and pulls her onto his lap, tongue tasting every inch of her mouth while hers explores his.

A long line of spit connects their lips once they break apart, her pretty eyes blown as she pants into his mouth. He smooths his thumb over her bottom lip, gaze glued onto the pink petals.

“Wanted to do that for so long,” she giggles, arms swinging up and around his neck.

Jungkook chuckles, tasting the blood from his split lip. She leans forward with a dainty hand on his chest, tongue tracing the wound to rid him of the metallic taste, catching him off guard.

“The train station isn’t too far from here,” he husks, teeth pressing into each other as he feels her crotch meet his, the relief enough to have his cock twitch against her. So long without it.

“Yeah?”

He nods, tucking a blond strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, I don’t have enough to take us far with this car, but I have enough for two tickets.”

Abruptly, she jerks her hips upward, asking him to get off before she intertwines their fingers and sashays to the other end of the car. She pops the hood, holding it up to watch his eyes glitter in awe.

“Check it out.”

Jungkook doesn’t need to. He’s worked for her father long enough to know what those grey duffel bags contain. The cogs in his head seem to grind and smoke and they turn, fingers itching at his sides.

“We can go anywhere we want, baby.”

He turns to Sora, a sense of grief flooding his chest when he truly takes note of who’s standing next to him. As quick as that thought entered his head, he pounds it away, sliding an arm around her waist as he presses his forehead to hers, taking in her floral scent that followed him around for months.

“Let’s go.”

Jungkook’s impetuous behavior was fuelled by his burgeoning hate for the people he left behind. Not once. But twice. Perhaps he knew that he did a poor job of explaining himself, blinded by the disgust marring his thoughts, knowing what could have been if he just stayed and chose to face his problems instead of running away.

But this can serve as an example of that flaw, leaving behind what he knows could be his family to live out his own desires and fulfil what he grew up yearning and wanting till it consumed him and all he did was chase that dream. Constantly sweeping his misdeeds under the rug and starting anew.

We all know Jungkook will come to realize that it will all pile up and come back to bite him when he least expects. First, in the form of regret.

:((((( just a reminder that the story isn’t over yet !! <3 please do let me know what you think !! ✉️

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© aquagustd 2021-2022 do not copy/repost/translate

[yoursecondfirstlove]

Mystery Mania p.11

(Y/n), a popular supernatural podcaster decides to cover the infamous town of Hawkins Indiana for her latest miniseries

MASTERLIST

Will Byers Interview. Raw footage

INT. THE BYERS HOME

Will sits in a chair in his bedroom.

He shuffled uncomfortably in front of the camera.

Y/n: are you ready?

Will smiles nervously and nods.

Y/n: can you please describe the night you went missing?

Will nods again.

Will: yeah, yeah of course. So uh-I was over at my friend Mikes house, we were all playing D&D, and me and my friends all left to go home. I lived the furthest away for there was a little while where I was cycling by myself.

Will looks to y/n for encouragement.

We hear y/n hum.

Will: So uh- I was cycling by myself and I like-I saw something in the road that spooked me I guess.

Y/n: do you remember what you saw?

Will shrugs and looks to the ground.

Will: I don’t know, it was just like-a shadow of something, it was probably and animal or something I don’t know.

Will looks off screen to y/n.

Will smiles to y/n.

Will: so uh, I get spooked and I just steer off the road into the woods. I feel off my bike and like rolled somewhere. I had no idea where I had just ended up so tried to find my way out but I just got more and more lost.

Y/n: how long were you missing?

Will: just uh-just a week.

Y/n: well a week is a long time for a kid to go missing in the woods.

Will nods.

Will: yeah, yeah I was uh-I was in pretty bad shape when they ended up finding me.

Y/n: what was it like coming back, finding out everyone already thought you were dead?

Will scrunches his face up a little, looking slightly tearful.

Will: it uh-it wasn’t great, I guess. I was already bullied but I just started getting bullied like…worse? I guess. That combined with-with all the flashbacks and episodes it was really…

Will begins to tear up.

Will: I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.

Y/n: no, no, no there’s nothing to be sorry for. You need a quick break?

Will nods as he smiles through his tears.

Will: yeah, yeah that’d be great.

Video cuts.

Video cuts back to Will drinking a glass of water.

Will: okay I think Im good now.

Y/n: are you sure?

Will: yeah, yeah Im sure.

Y/n: could you please tell me about any aftermath you went through once you came back?

Will nods.

Will: yeah, yeah of course so uh. I was going to some therapy session, some psychological evaluations after I came back for the uh-for the trauma I guess. It was really hard at first. I got really sick for a little while, which didn’t help.

Y/n: you got sick?

Will nods.

Will: yeah, yeah uh-glandular fever.

Y/n: oh wow…

Will: yeah but uh, things got a lot better, over-over time.

Y/n: yeah?

Will: yeah uh a little bit before the uh-the mall burned down, I actually got to feel like a kid again.

Y/n: so you feel like your childhood was stolen from you after this experience?

Will smiles nervously as he nods and looks into his lap.

Will: yeah, yeah I guess I do.

We hear the door swing open.

Will looks toward the sound.

El: Joyce would like to know if y/n would like to have lunch with us.

Y/n: oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude.

Joyce: oh honey, don’t worry about that, you’re here anyway, we’d love to have you.

Y/n: okay then, that’d be nice, thank you.

Joyce: oh! I’m so sorry, did we interrupt?

Y/n: no, no I think we were just about done anyway. Are you happy to leave it there Will?

Will smiles at y/n.

Will: yeah, yeah I think that’s good.

Video ends

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[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 2

As you reconcile with Sirius, he reminisces on how you came to be friends despite a rather rocky start (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 2 .:Pranks and Past Prejudices:.

~Previously~

“I was about to see if you were awake,” Sirius admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, stepping aside slightly so you could come in. If the Sirius Black from your school days had offered you into his room in the dead of night, you would have slapped him upside the head; but things were different now, and so were the two of you. 

However, as you glanced around the room you almost laughed at how remarkably unchanged it was, and why wouldn't it be? He hadn't lived here since he was sixteen, and he was only living here now because he preferred this house to an Azkaban cell by a small fraction. While the rest of the house was set in deep tones of obsidian and gray, save for the green Slytherin theme of his younger brother's room, Sirius' room was all warm shades of red and gold, Gryffindor paraphernalia covering every inch of it from Quidditch trophies and old banners to a tapestry he had stolen from the Great Hall when they'd won the house cup that year.

The room was littered with memories of your school life— a set of charred robes from when he and James had drunkenly lit the Quidditch field hoops on fire, an old Beater's bat that he had broken in half during the Cup finals, an old Gobstones set you used to play with in the courtyard, and stacks of classic rock records that you and Remus had gifted him for the holidays. A muggle toolbox sat in the corner of the room from when he'd made improvements to his enchanted motorbike that couldn't be done with magic, which you were certain his parents were mortified by.

Posters of bikini-clad women were plastered across the wallpaper, and you recalled the day he told you his mother had a fit when she realized he'd used a permanent sticking charm on them so she couldn't take them down. Said posters were still present, but mostly covered up by all the photos of him and his friends from their school and early Order days— the only noticeable sign of change you could see from his moving back in. It was truly like some sort of time capsule.

As soon as you tore your eyes away from the room and turned to focus on its owner, a tense silence fell between you two. This was the first time you had seen Sirius in over a decade. The last time you two spoke, he was in chains being led away to Azkaban. What was there to say? How could you possibly think things could go back to the way they were? 

“Sirius,” your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name, and when you saw the look in his eyes, so similar to the look he'd given you when he was in that horrible barbed cage during his trial, the dam just broke.

You practically threw yourself at him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the fabric of his shirt bunched up in your trembling hands

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I am so, so sorry I didn't believe you, Sirius. I didn't know, I didn't—”

“(Y/n), it's okay,” Sirius said softly.

You almost jumped at his gentle touch, his arm wrapping around your waist and one hand coming up to pet your hair. It hurt him to see you like this, that you went through this much because of him.

“There was no way you could have known,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head as tears continued to stream down your face, “There was no proof that I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We'd decided to make it that rat at the last second. Only James and Lily knew and, well, they couldn't exactly attest to my innocence.”

Hatred bubbled up in his chest at his own mention of Pettigrew, but he forced it down for you, his expression softening as soon as he looked at you. “That was bad judgment on my part, I suppose,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, although twelve years in prison was a difficult matter to joke about.

“I should have just believed you,” you muttered into his collar. Sirius' other hand reached out to cup your face, wiping the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Come now, even Moony thought I'd done it,” he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face, “I know what it looked like. . . I don't blame any of you for not believing me. So please, don't blame yourself for this, (Y/n). You're still my best friend.”

“Oh, now you've done it,” you sniffled, laughing despite yourself as fresh tears spilled over. Sirius laughed along with you and yo u could feel the sound reverberate through his chest, rich and melodic. Warm.

He wrapped both his arms around you, holding you tight as you two chuckled like a couple of idiots, standing there glassy-eyed in the middle of his room. If anyone else had bore witness to the scene they'd have thought you'd gone mad, but in that moment you couldn't care less. Your body had been buckling under the weight of your guilt and how much you had missed him. Hearing him say that he still considered you his best friend. . . that was more than you could have ever asked for.

Sirius swelled with pride as he saw he was able to make you smile, something he'd long considered a small victory. He couldn't believe how much your relationship had changed. If someone had told him all those years ago that you would turn out to be someone he couldn't imagine his life without, he wouldn't have believed them. But he supposed life was unexpected like that. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1973  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the day you'd stood up to him, James Potter found himself increasingly curious about you. Of course he and his friends continued to pick on Snape, but when you were around to fend them off it became more and more difficult to do so, something that the leader of the self-proclaimed Marauders decided was cumbersome.

James insisted that to get to Snape they would have to take you down too, since you were so keen on protecting him.

“We need to cut the head off the snake,” he had said.

And so, slowly but surely, James shifted the cross hairs of his mischief-making from Severus Snape to you. It started out small; a Bat-bogey hex here, some heat sensitive combustion power under your cauldron there. What he didn't expect in the slightest was for you to actually retaliate with pranks of your own.

Quidditch season had just ended as the year came to a close, and James, who was supposed to be helping clean out the Gryffindor tent, was lying on his back and fiddling about with a golden snitch he'd found wedged in the wooden scaffolding. His head perked up as he saw the Lily across the pitch, walking next to you and chatting. He clearly couldn't care less about what, as he had no problem interrupting your conversation.

“Hey, Evans!” he hollered, heading towards you two.

As soon as Lily spotted him she rolled her eyes.

“And now we're walking faster,” she muttered, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along.

“Aw come on, I just wanna talk,” he said, quickly catching up with you. Before long he had jogged a few paces ahead, turning around to block your path. “Hey,” he said with a smirk. He was wearing his Quidditch practice uniform, broom in hand.

“Merlin, you are nothing if not persistent,” Lily huffed.

“What can I say? I'm a Chaser~”

“Goodbye, James,” Lily deadpanned at the pun, and he quickly moved in front of her again.

“Wait, wait! Just watch this, okay?” he insisted.

You bit back a smirk, grateful he hadn't paid you any mind until now.

“Trust me, you've never seen anything like this before,” James said cockily, willing his broomstick to hover a few feet off the ground and hauling one leg over to mount it. However, as soon as his arse hit the wood, his entire body phased right through it. He groaned as his tailbone made unceremonious contact with the ground, his broomstick now hovering above him. As soon as he looked up the stick dropped and plonked him on the head, solid again.

You burst out laughing, revealing your wand that had been obstructed from his view by your sleeve.

“(Y/n)!” Lily looked at you in shock, hitting you in the arm playfully but unable to fight the laughter that rose in her chest. It was nice to see him get a harmless taste of his own medicine.

“Well, you were right, Potter,” the redhead said, “I've never seen anything like that before.”

James' face flushed with embarrassment while you two walked away, gathering his broom and whatever remained of his pride. You wouldn't get the better of him again.

Or, at least that's what he told himself until the beginning of your fourth year.

________________________________________________________

James strode down the corridors leading to the Great Hall with a pep in his step. It had been an unusually peaceful morning; despite having slept in, he wasn't in much of a rush to join his friends who had already made their way to breakfast.

The real reason for his quick pace was because he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his latest prank. It was a classic, amped up a bit thanks to a tube of ink from one of the “magic” markers at Zonkos. He hoped you liked your new look, because you were going to be saddled with it for a while.

As he walked through the courtyard he shot a wink to a fourth year Hufflepuff girl he recognized from his Divination class and she covered her hand with her mouth, turning away from him slightly as she tried to hold back the giggles that spilled from her lips. He gave himself a pat on the back, oblivious to the fact that the laughter was directed at him, an unawareness that stayed with him up until the moment he threw the doors to the Great Hall open. The gasps and laughter that followed him only grew as he sat down at his usual spot. Even his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“What?” James ran a hand through his hair in confusion, “What are you guys—!!”

As his hair flopped in front of his face his peripheral vision was curtained with the brightest shade of neon turquoise he'd ever seen.

“No,” he said, “no, no, no way!”

He grabbed one of the food trays, dumping the pastries that were on top onto the table. Peter squeaked as he caught a few that were about to fall, setting them down quietly on his own plate.

James stared at his reflection in the shiny metal, and sure enough his once pristine brunette hair was colored the bright blue of the magic marker whose contents he'd dumped into your shower bottle the night before.

“Did you like the shampoo?” a voice behind him asked innocently.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to see you, your hair colored the same bright blue shade. Now he was thoroughly confused.

“It smells nice, right?”

“How did you. . . if I. . . why is your hair—”

“A simple connection charm on the shampoo bottle,” you said, “anyone who touches it receives the same benefits and results of the next person who uses it within three hours. In this case, you landed yourself a dye job and a hell of a keratin treatment, so you're welcome. The spell was already on the bottle to begin with; pretty convenient when you have dorm mates that can all save on buying product, and besides it can be kind of nice to skip a hair wash day every once in a while. I suppose I should thank you, I didn't have to do any shopping or sneaking around for this one. You did all the work for me.”

You put your hand to your chin, pretending to study him for a moment.

“You should take care of that fast, though” you said nonchalantly, gesturing to his hair, “you don't look nearly as cute as I do in this color, Potter.”

To further prove your point, you waved your wand around the crown of your head, and with a quick utter of 'aufero hue' the blue in your hair seemed to melt right off the strands, leaving behind your natural (h/c) locks. The color swirled around the tip of your wand in an aqueous state for a moment before you flung it aside. It landed with a splat! against the Gryffindor table, staining a section of the wood that same shade of bright blue as if it had grown that way.

“I'd do it for you myself, but I don't want to,” you smirked, “ Perhaps you could take a few remedial classes to learn the color-leeching charm. Have fun figuring something out!”

And with that you flounced away, leaving behind a very embarrassed, very blue, and very reluctantly impressed James Potter.

He may just have found himself a proper rival.

Sirius scoffed from where he sat.

“Oh please, the stupid charm can't be that hard to do,” he said, taking out his wand.

“Not that I don't have faith in you, mate, but I'm probably better off seeing if Slughorn has anything for this,” James said.

“Why don't you just soak your head in some Valerian water? That's what takes the color out of potions, right?”

“Peter, he might go bald if he does that.”

“Oh.”

_______________________________________________________

James would go on to land a few good jokes on you too. There was one night where you had snuck into the Prefect's bathroom and emerged with a mermaid tail, which was pretty awesome until you realized you had no way of getting out of the tub. From then on, you and James would continue to try and get the jump on one another, marking the start of your now-infamous fourth year prank war. It entertained the students and infuriated the faculty. Gradually, your pranks on one another became more light-hearted, meant to amuse the other person and make them laugh rather than actually hurt or humiliate them.

“Very funny, (L/n),” James said as he walked up to you, his body turned around 180 degrees from the waist up so he had to shuffle backwards to face you. You laughed, nearly choking on your pumpkin juice as you saw your handy work.

“What are you, five?”

“Right, because you're so much more mature stalking and bullying my friends,” you quipped back.

“I really don't understand how Snivelus is your friend.”

“Severus,” you said crossly, “and for the record, I really don't understand how Remus is yours either. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Har har,” James rolled his eyes, “Now would you turn me the right way 'round already? I've got Quidditch practice.”

“Nah, I think you're fine to play like this.”

“Honestly? Not a bad tactic. I can cover my blind spot and stare at my own ass while I fly.”

“Who's five now?” you grinned.

As the months went on, instead of storming over to each other and slinging insults, your interactions with James became more akin to playful banter. And frankly, Sirius didn't get it. You were a Slytherin, and a pureblood at that. Hell, you were a descendant of one of the 28 pureblood families. Everything about you went against everything he believed in and relished in getting away from each year when he would leave home to go to school. You were in the same house as those stupid blood purists, you probably were one yourself—

“You're glaring.”

Sirius blinked, snapping out of his stupor as Remus nudged him in the shoulder. He said nothing, slowly returning to eating his dinner as he tore his eyes away from you, sitting at the Slytherin table with Snivelus, Evan Rosier, and his younger brother of all people. He stabbed at his roast potatoes a little too harshly and his friends traded looks among themselves.

“You alright there, mate?” James asked cautiously.

“Fantastic,” Sirius said, shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth to avoid saying anything unsavory as he spotted you heading towards their table.

“Coming to the library today, Remus?” you asked the boy to his right who looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh, sure thing,” he said, “I'm off for the night.”

“Great, we can study for Arithmancy then,” you said. Remus nodded at your suggestion and you gave him a dazzling smile, walking off with your books.

“Since when did you two get so chummy?” Sirius bristled.

Remus rolled his eyes.

“We're just studying for the upcoming mid marks,” he said, “They’re proficient in Ancient Runes and History of Magic. As a study partner it's. . . refreshing.”

“Oi, are you calling us stupid?” James rose a brow.

“Your words, not mine,” Lupin grinned. He saw Sirius' bothered expression and sighed, collecting his things.

“You might get on if you bothered to get to know them,” he told Sirius out of the others' earshot, slinging his book bag over his shoulder before heading off in your direction.

You only continued to grow inadvertently closer to James throughout your fourth year, your prank battle coming to its epic conclusion with the two of you joining forces against some particularly nasty upperclassmen. Your practical jokes subsided, your quips and passing insults were traded for real conversations and walking each other to class. You hated to admit it, but he'd grown on you— especially with him letting up considerably on bullying Severus and annoying Lily lately.

All the while, the closer you got to James the more irritated his best friend became. In Sirius' mind, the more time you were spending with James the less time James was spending with him. They hardly hung out alone anymore. And since James started hanging out with you he started mellowing out, which made Lily start hanging out with him, which made him even more tame. Sirius just wanted his best friend back.

“You do realize that issue would largely be resolved if you weren't so bothered by hanging out with both of them together, right?” Lupin had brought up one night as Sirius was airing out his frustrations.

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Have you ever asked them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for the unexpected early support on this story! I have a lot planned for it~ If you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know ! 

Read chapter 3 here!

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan @sleep-i-ness @parker-natasha​

[weelittleweasley]

one more night (g.w.)

prompt: after a bad breakup, george comes back to y/n’s flat to pick up some leftover things he missed. one of these missing things was a proper goodbye.

pairings: george weasley x fem! reader

warnings: 18+ sexual content MDI (break up sex, soft sex, unprotected sex), super angsty, language, emotional break up, crying

word count: 3.7k

author’s note: something about break up sex really does it for me. like...it’s so hot and for why? anyway, here’s wonderwall. flashbacks are conveyed through italics. 

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The small cardboard box that sat next to the door was completely pathetic, sitting there in shame. The cardboard could barely hold the boxes contents, wanting to burst at its seams as it held every shred of George Weasley that was in your flat. You wanted your flat to be a George Weasley free space, but a part of you wanted to keep the magic of your relationship alive. He couldn’t miss his quidditch jumper from Hogwarts, could he? It had been years since you graduated, he wouldn’t remember that you had it, right? So, his jumper hung proudly in your closet like the status of your relationship hadn’t changed.

As you leaned against your kitchen island, sipping quietly from your coffee mug, you stared at the cardboard box, hoping that the intensity of your gaze would make the box combust into flames. But it stayed still. Unaffected. George’s things teemed out of the box, miscellaneous shirts and jumpers and trinkets piled high. You caught yourself smiling as you shook it off, reminding yourself of the status of your relationship, cringing as you did so. 

The night of your break up played on a constant loop, like a movie trailer. When you woke up, it was the first thing on your mind. When your head hit the pillow, it was the last thing you thought of when you closed your eyes. It was a sick cycle.

“I can’t change my work schedule to fit yours, George. I’ve done it in the past so often and I can’t anymore. I’m finally on my own two feet and I need to keep the ball rolling,” you explain to George as you sit at his kitchen table as George paces the living room, back and forth, pulling at his red roots, trying to formulate a response. “Admit it, George. We can’t m-”

“Don’t you say what you’re going to say, (Y/N). Don’t you bloody dare,” he speaks as you sigh, rubbing your face with your hands. You didn’t want to have this conversation with George, but it was unavoidable at this point. You had just gotten a job as a full-time Healer, working in St. Mungo’s, your dream job. But the busy work schedule that you had was failing to align with George’s schedule working the joke shoppe that just seemed to do better and better every day. “We can work this out. We can’t just give up at the first sign of hardship,” George laughs as you give him a knowing look. You had been trying to make it work for a month, but things simply weren’t working. When you did see him, it would be for two hours and the two of you would be so exhausted that you would talk for five minutes before going to bed. “(Y/N), I don’t want to be the one to suggest this, but I can support us. The both of us. The joke shoppe is doing so well and with the booming business, I have enough money for me to sell this flat and we can buy a home together. Start a family. What we’ve always wanted to do!”

You rise from your chair at the thought of quitting your job. Something you had worked years and years towards and George dared to bring up the suggestion of you quitting a month and a half in. “I am not quitting,” you say very sternly, making George sigh, knowing he shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. “I have worked my ass off to get where I am right now and I’m not going to sacrifice that for the sake of our relationship!” you exclaim.

But that was wrong of you to say; it just put wood on the fire. “So how far would you go for our relationship?” George challenges, folding his arms across his chest as you gulp. “Because Godric knows everything I have done for the sake of us.”

And he was right. George shifted employees and his own work schedule so he could have an extra hour with you some nights. He would close the shops on holiday weekends, which was prime for sales, so he could take you on romantic getaways. George told you to move in with him when you struggled to find a flat of your own. He helped get you through Healer school. George put you before him in the relationship and you knew that. You felt guilty now. You shouldn’t have said what you did.

“I didn’t mean it like that, George,” you sigh, admitting defeat as George scoffs. “I meant that I can’t give up my dream. Just when I finally got it. And I don’t want you to give up yours. It’s not fair for the both of us,” you try to tell him as he shakes his head, knowing the direction the conversation has turned and he doesn’t like it one bit. So much so that you can see his eyes become glassy as he turns his head away from you so you didn’t have to watch him break down. “George, I love you. The life you have given us has been nothing short of wonderful.”

“Stop it, please,” he manages to croak out, turning towards you, his chocolate brown eyes pooling with hot tears. The sight makes your heart shatter as you suck in a shaky breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. Tears were impending. “I don’t want to let you go. I can’t let you go. Not like this,” George holds your face in his hands, brushing your cheeks with his thumbs, gazing into your eyes with so much love he could burst. You let go of a shaky sigh as you lean into his touch and close your eyes, savoring the way his large hands held your face with such ease. “I’m not letting you go, (Y/N). I’m going to love you forever and ever and there’s nothing you can do to change that.”

You open your eyes and give George a sad smile as he sniffles. You reach up and press your lips to his, your kiss mixing with both of your salty tears. This love that you possessed for each other was greater than anything you have ever known. But the universe was trying to tell you that this wasn’t working. For the both of you to live the lives you always dreamed out you had to let the other go. No matter how hard it was going to be. 

The two of you pull away from your sweet kiss before you speak, “I’m never going to stop loving you, George. Nothing will change that. But for now, we need to let go. For both of our sake’s.”

The memory is interrupted by the buzzer going off in your flat. “Shit,” you huff as you scurry over to the intercom. You buzzed him in as you writhed your hands in anticipation, pacing your living room floor. Your eyes dart to the box. Should you move it? Keep it close to the door? If you keep it next to the door does it say you want him out for good? What if you put it on the table? Is that more of a welcome in? Should you let him come in? 

Too many thoughts clouded your mind before a gentle knock sounded on the door. Your heart froze and you stopped in the living room. “Bloody hell,” you breathe out as you look at yourself in the mirror, checking your hair and smiling to see if anything was in your teeth. “It’s just goodbye, (Y/N). Just goodbye,” you tell yourself before you walk over to the door, undoing the latches and locks.

When you swing it open, George stands there, fresh from a shower it looks like. His hair is slightly damp, hanging on his head rather than spiked up and slicked back like it usually was. Like you loved it. A gray t-shirt hung on his body, clinging on his arms, the front tucked into dark wash jeans. “I’m sorry I’m late,” he huffs with a small smile. “Work was crazy and I had to take a shower before I came over. I hope you don’t mind,” he speaks.

You gulp, trying not to blurt out how good he looked right now, the scent of his cologne making your body tingle as if it was some sick love potion. “Not at all,” you manage to say instead, thankfully. “Uh,” you tremble before looking down on the other side of the door to the box that taunted you. Picking it up from the floor, you extend it out to him. “This should be everything.”

George takes it from your arms and huffs, “Great.” He holds it in one of his arms with ease, his biceps flexing under his gray shirt as you watch, eyes hungry. This was some kind of sick joke, wasn’t it? With his other hand, he rummages through the piles, making sure he had everything. “Uh, my quidditch jumper is not in here?” he asks, but it was more of a matter of fact. 

Damn it. You had been caught. You had to come up with something, quickly. “Oh! Yeah! I forgot!” you try to act surprised. “It’s, uh, I washed it. Yeah, um, it’s in my room,” you close your eyes and shake your head. “One minute. You can come in if you want,” you open the door wider as George smiles and makes his way in your flat as if it were his first time here when in reality, he did have his own set of keys. You shut the door and watch him awkwardly stand into the living room, watching you. “Alright then.”

You scurry into your bedroom and push open your closet door, shuffling through the hangers, finding George’s quidditch jumper proudly hanging in the back in it’s crimson and gold glory. Plucking it from the hanger, you sigh in defeat. So much for that endeavor. You flip around to run back into the kitchen where George was waiting, but you were startled to see that he had followed you into your bedroom. “Oh,” you jump.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles. “I didn’t know if I should have followed you or...” he trails off, awkwardly as you gulp and nod your head. “Seems like you found it.”

“Yeah, here it is,” you hand it to him, trying to savor the feeling of the knit material in your fingertips. It would be the last time you felt that material for a while. “Sorry about this mix up,” you tuck your hands into your sweatpants pockets, rocking back and forth on your heels.

George smiles and shakes his head, “No need to apologize. Honest mistake,” he speaks as you nod your head with an awkward chuckle. Yeah, honest mistake... “I’ll, uh, I’ll head out then, yeah?” he asks with raised brows.

You nod, “Sure. Yeah. Yeah.”

The two of you start to make your way out of your room, but George stops in his tracks when something catches his eye. You stop and follow his line of sight that landed on a framed picture of the two of you from one of your first holidays together. In the photograph, George held up the camera at the two of you, his arm wrapped around you tightly as you leaned into his chest, cuddling into his tall figure. The both of you were mid-laughter, the beautiful beach behind you, the sun fading the back. George smiled softly at the photo as you watched his face shift, your heart fluttering at his reaction. “That was a good holiday, wasn’t it?” he chuckles, walking towards your dresser where the frame stood proudly. It had been two weeks since the break up, but you didn’t bother taking any photos out of the frames yet. You couldn’t bare it. That would mean George was gone for good. 

You smile softly and walk next to him as he gazes at the photograph, all the memories resurfacing of the beautiful beach and the small cabana George had gotten for the two of you with the graduation money he had saved up. “It was,” you recall. “It was like a dream, honestly. We were so young back then,” you say in disbelief. It was true. You were both just eighteen in that picture and now here you were, twenty two, post-break up. The two of you had grown up so much since that holiday. You wish you could jump through the picture and tell your younger self to relish in every moment you had with George because each moment was beautiful. 

George laughs, “We look so young. Merlin...” The two of you chuckle at the photo. “We were so happy,” he sighs before looking at you. You don’t dare peel your eyes from the photograph, knowing that if you look at him right now, you’d melt and give into him. “Look at me please,” he speaks just above a whisper.

Shaking your head, you speak, “I can’t, Georgie. I can’t bear it.”

His heart flutters at your nickname for him. “I want to take a look at your eyes. A good look. One last time and I promise I’ll go.” George reaches out and touches your hand gently, as if you were made of glass and the slightest touch would break you. “(Y/N).”

With a gulp and mustering up all your courage, you turn your gaze to his and your heart melts at the sight. If a look could speak. His eyes were so sad, but filled with so much longing and love and adoration. The face you loved so much, full of so much tenderness, staring down at you. He made you feel like you were the only person who mattered. Because to George, you were. 

The two of you are just looking at each other, absorbing each other’s features as much as possible before one of you dares to speak up. Slowly, George reaches up and cups your face, like you were so used to. “George,” you sigh out breathlessly as you lean into his touch, tears welling up in your eyes. You can’t believe you had to let him go. “I just want to be happy again. With you.”

George gives you a sad smile, “I do too, angel. More than anything. It’s my only wish. Even if it’s just for another day.”

His words make the wheels start churning in your head as you lick your lips before saying, “Then let us have one more day. One more night together. I don’t care if it’s temporary. I just want one last memory with you, Georgie.”

George’s eyes search yours as you desperately hold onto him, needing him, wanting him, yearning for him. George brings your face to his, connecting your lips in a kiss that was unlike any other kiss you’ve ever had. It made the hair on your neck stand up. Your arms wrap around his neck as his wrap around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The kiss is full of urgency and desire, as if you didn’t take each other right now, there wouldn’t be another opportunity for this. 

You break apart from the kiss to pull George’s shirt over his head as he does the same to you only to reconnect your kiss. His lips move against yours, hungrily, passionately as you moan gently into his mouth. George grabs your thighs and hoists you up as you wrap your legs around his torso as he walks over to the bed, laying you down gently, kissing your lips, neck, and collarbones. His lips leave trails of wet kisses as you run your finger through his still damp hair, tugging on it gently. “Please, George, please,” you whine as he kisses the valley between your breasts.

He pulls himself away from your chest to kiss your lips again. “Anything you want, angel. Say the word and I’m all yours,” he tells you, brushing your hair gently. You grab his face and pull him down to connect your lips again, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you arch your back, pushing your chest into his. His tongue massages yours as his hands unclasp your bra, throwing it to the floor. 

“I want you to make love to me,” you mumble against his mouth as George smiles softly, his heart fluttering. “I want you to make love to me, Georgie. I want to remember this night for the rest of my life.”

“Anything, angel. Anything you want,” he repeats himself as you both breathily laugh, reconnecting your lips, stripping the other of their remaining clothes. Soon enough, the two of you are naked and George breathes out, “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

You connect your lips again before you place kisses along George’s jawline as he hovers over you, lining himself up to your entrance, pulling your legs farther open as you wrap them around his torso. George runs the tip of his hard dick up your wet pussy as you bite down on your lip with a sharp inhale. “Please, baby, please,” you beg him which only makes George obey you, pushing his whole length into your aching core as you both moan out in satisfaction. He fills you up in a way that is so familiar and delightful as you dig your nails into his biceps. “Shit,” you moan out as George starts to move, thrusting in and out of you slowly.

“Fucking hell,” George groans out. “You feel fucking incredible,” he breathes out, his hips moving smoothly against yours, pumping his hard cock in and out as your walls tighten around him. “You like that, baby?”

With a whimper, you moan out, “I love it, baby. Keep going, don’t stop. I love the way you fuck me. Fuck, George.” George continues to thrust in and out, picking up his pace, going in deeper as your eyes flutter shut. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder as you groan, “Right there, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Your praise makes George push your legs open wider so he can push impossibly deeper into you, before hoisting one of your legs over his shoulder, making the both of you cry out in euphoria. “Shit, I love the way you feel wrapped around me. Say my name, baby,” George groans.

“Oh, George, fuck, baby,” you moan out louder, head tossed back against your sheets as George buries his face in your neck as you hold onto him. He pounds into you deeper as you are panting in a state of nirvana. “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum,” you dig your nails into George’s flesh as he presses love bites into your neck.

He looks at you and speaks, “Look at me, angel. I want you to cum looking into my eyes, baby.” You peel your eyes open and look into his brown eyes, dark with a mixture of lust and love. “I love you, angel.”

As he continues to thrust, you feel the familiar knotting feeling in your stomach as your jaw drops. “I love you,” you breathe out, looking deep into George’s eyes. “I love you so much, baby. I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, I love you,” George repeats as you reach your climax, crying out his name in pleasure, head rolling back as you clutch the sheets, coming all over his dick. Shortly after, George finishes, moaning out your name, the both of you a symphony of moans and heavy breathing. 

The two of you come down from your highs as he pulls out and lays on the bed next to you, chests heavy with the rise and fall of incoming and outgoing breaths. You run your fingers through your hair before rolling onto your side to face George who stares at the ceiling. A small smile is on your lips as you place a hand on George’s chest. He turn his gaze to you and a toothy grin is on your face as you giggle, George pulling you close to him with a breathy chuckle. He places a kiss to your temple. The two of you cuddle next to each other, naked underneath your sheets, happy to be resting in each other’s arms. 

That is until George speaks, “You didn’t really wash my jumper did you? You were trying to keep it in hopes I didn’t notice, weren’t you?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you roll your eyes. “You were!”

You sit up, “I was not!”

George laughs, “You cheeky little thing! You were trying to steal my clothes from me after we broke up!”

The two of you are in a fit of laughs, laying next to each other, enjoying the feeling of skin on skin next to each other. You rest your head on George’s chest as he rubs your back. “I wish we could be this happy all the time,” you confess as George sighs, wishing the same thing. But the two of you knew that this wasn’t working anymore. The break up was for the best. 

“I do too, my love,” he agrees. “But I don’t want to focus on what we wish could happen. Let’s just enjoy tonight while we have it, okay?” he speaks as you nod, cuddling further into his touch. “I love you.”

“I love you.”

Minutes later, the two of you had fallen asleep, entangled in each others arms, the last words on your lips being confessions of love. 

The morning comes as quickly as you fell asleep. You stretch your arms out and pat the area of the bed next to you, searching for George. But you quickly realize that your George wasn’t there. 

In his place was a piece of parchment that had scribbled onto it, I didn’t want to leave before you woke up, but work calls sadly. Thank you for last night. It was the best night of my life. I love you, (Y/N). I always have and I always will. That will never change. You are my angel. Love always, Your George. P.S. You can keep the jumper. It looked better on you anyway.

A few feet away from the note was the jumper on the edge of the bed, laid out in it’s glory as a small smile made its way onto your face. You reach over and pull the jumper onto your naked body, inhaling the fabric that smelt so much of George, making your heart flutter. “Maybe someday,” you whisper. “Maybe someday, my love.”

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Protector

Prompt: if prompts are still open: virgil as an adventurer who keeps accidentally befriending the monsters he’s supposed to be fighting (aka the other sides)? have a wonderful day! (and don’t feel any pressure to do this at all, and if your inbox is meant to be closed absolutely delete this ask)

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Warnings: sympathetic remus & deceit, some ptsd flashbacks but nothing super explicit

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic but Virgil’s definitely got some gay panic in there

Word Count: 8153

 Virgil’s got a simple code when he’s not on a hunt. Don’t hurt whatever you don’t absolutely have to, and odds are, it won’t hurt you. Now and then there’s a bit of an, um, incident where that doesn’t quite work out as well as they’d hoped, but by and large they get by.

Or: 5 times Virgil helps a monster he was supposed to kill, and 1 time the monsters help him

He sighs as he walks outside, grabbing the pair of gloves from the rickety tray and tugging them over his weathered hands. The front garden isn’t nearly as overgrown as it was when he found this little cabin in the middle of nowhere, but it’s got a long way to go before he can walk through without tripping over at least one overgrown bramble.

 There’s a very persistent mint plant that’s slowly and surely trying to choke the flowers. Virgil bends down and starts to toil in the dirt.

 “Come on,” he mutters, because he’s allowed to talk to plants when no one else is listening, “let’s stop doing that, you don’t have to be literally everywhere…”

 The mint doesn’t protest verbally, because it’s a plant and plants can’t talk, but Virgil would swear it tries to hold onto the dirt as he pulls it up, holding his hand under the roots to catch the dirt.

 “Alright, come on out, then, let’s just…put you in here.”

 There’s a plot of dirt in a crate resting at his knee. He pats the soil. Fresh enough. The mint plant looks almost contrite as he tucks it into the corner.

 “Next time I go see the townspeople I’m sure you’ll make some tea-shop owner very happy.”

 The rest of the garden goes similarly. By the end, he’s filled the crate almost halfway when his hand catches something sharp.

  The blade gleams as it flashes through the air. The child screams. His eyes widen—

 “No,” he grits out, flattening his hands into the dirt, “no, it’s…it’s okay. We’re okay. It’s…hhhh.”

 As he exhales, his shoulders slump, head bowing almost to his chest. The sounds of blades swinging through the air fade as the breeze rustles the leaves surrounding the cabin. The faint smell of mint cleanses his nose of blood.

 Virgil opens his eyes and carefully moves his hand away from the rose.

 “When’d you get here,” he mutters, carefully lifting the leaves to examine the stem, “don’t remember seeing you.”

 The thorns snag on the little pieces of dirt hanging from his gloves. He glances around. There aren’t any other roses nearby, not that he can see. And it’s probably not very good for it to be growing in the middle of this choked soil patch.

 He stands and makes his way back for the sharper trowel.

 Something hisses.

 His grip on the trowel doesn’t waver but he turns his head casually to glance over his shoulder.

 Something crouches in the garden, just barely visible over the crate. A tuft of hair, not dark enough to be a bear cub, not light enough to be a squirrel. His arm relaxes against his side, trowel snug against his thigh.

 “Hello,” he calls, watching closely, “is someone there?”

 He blinks in surprise when a cat pokes its head over the crate.

 “Uh, hey, there,” he manages, “uh…what’re you doing all the way out here?”

 In response, the cat leaps elegantly over the crate. It’s a slim thing, but not underweight. Its fur is bluish-gray, almost like a stormcloud. As Virgil watches, the cat sneezes and its fur turns a dappled brown.

 Virgil sighs. “So you’re the mischievous sprite I’ve been told to get rid of.”

 The neighboring village has tried several times to make him seek and destroy the sprite’s nest. Apparently, it’s been causing all sorts of problems. Books going missing, glasses breaking in the middle of the night, jars of preserves broken into. Now, that’s not really what Virgil calls a punishable offense, but the villagers were insistent that he find it and fight it. He’s done one of those things.

 Well, technically, the sprite found him.

 “There’s not much here that would interest you,” Virgil says, gesturing at the unkempt garden, “but if you want to tell me what you do want, then—hey!”

 The sprite, of course, doesn’t wait for him to actually finish inviting it inside. Instead, the door creaks as the cat darts between his legs and vanishes.

 “Be careful,” he warns, “there are sharp things.”

 He pushes open the door to see the cat perched on a precariously high shelf, sniffing at the books. He sighs.

 “I can get those down if you want, it might be easier than doing whatever the hell it is you’re doing now.”

 The cat ignores him, pawing at the thick leather cover. He sighs and pulls off his gloves.

 “Alright, just—wait a damn minute.”

 Virgil grunts as he lifts the book of the shelf and carries it over to the table, opening it and waiting. The cat jumps up onto the table and sniffs at the pages. Its tongue laps at a word.

 “You want more about that? Okay, let’s just—“

 Yes, Virgil is talking to this sprite. He’s allowed to do that in his own home.

 He turns the pages until the cat chirps.

 “This? This what you want?”

 The sprite stares at the page. It goes unnaturally still.

 The hairs on the back of Virgil’s neck stand up.

 Then it breaks; the cat shakes itself off and jumps down.

 “That’s it? You done now?”

 The cat’s tail twitches gracefully as it struts back to the door. Virgil rolls his eyes and follows it out.

 “Well, I’m glad I could be of service,” he mutters as he closes the door.

 Something rough touches his hand. He looks down. The sprite looks back up at him and licks his hand again.

 “…you’re welcome.”

 The cat sneezes, its fur changing back into the deep bluish-gray. Without another look, it takes off, leaping effortlessly over the crate and disappearing into the woods.

 Well, stranger things have happened in Virgil’s life.

 Shaking his head, he gets back to his garden. He glances at the rose before deciding that, eh, what the hell, it can stay another day. He finishes filling the mint crate and sets it near the front door, ready for his trip to the village tomorrow.

 “Ah, thank you!” The tea shop owner beams as he hands it over. “I’m sure this’ll be plenty.”

 “I’ve got more than enough, I promise.”

 “Well, since that sprite disappeared, I won’t be running out nearly as often!”

 Virgil blinks. “Huh?”

 “Oh, the sprite you got rid of!” She smiles. “Thank you kindly for that, it was ever so pesky.”

 Virgil just nods.

 ————————————

Virgil opens his eyes and doesn’t quite reach for the dagger he keeps in the nightstand but it’s close.

 “There’s a dog in my bed,” he mutters, “standing on top of me, drooling on my face.”

 The dog just barks. And changes color.

 He sighs. “Are you the same one from last time? Was the book not enough for you?”

 The dog barks again, jumping off the bed and trotting to the kitchen, its nail clicking on the floor. Virgil lets his eyes close for a second before getting up and following it.

 “Alright, the book it—whoa.”

 The dog is, um. Not a sprite.

 A huge mastiff elemental sits in the middle of his kitchen. It looks up from when it was nosing at what remained of a chicken carcass and rumbles. Virgil raises his hands.

 “I’m not going to hurt you,” he says lowly, “even though you did break into my house and wake me up. What do you want?”

 The elemental turns and moves through the house, out toward the woods. Virgil stuffs his feet in his boots and follows, tucking a slingshot and his knife into his pockets as he goes. The elemental moves through the trees with an inhuman grace, the very edges of the leaves it passes smoldering. A thin tendril of smoke wafts past Virgil’s nose.

  “She’s still inside!” The guard shouts as Virgil wrenches his arm away. “I have to go get her!”

  “Sir, you’ll die!”

  “She’s still—“

  The top of the house crashes down as—

 Virgil closes his eyes and brings his kerchief up to his nose. He breathes deeply. Freshly baked bread. Honeysuckle. The slightly tacky smell of leather oil. Breathe in, breathe out.

 When he opens his eyes again, the elemental has paused, glancing back at him.

 “I’m coming,” he says quickly, “I’m coming. Keep going.”

 He shrugs the old ghosts off his shoulders and follows.

 The elemental leads him to a clearing. Underneath a large, dead white tree, there’s a small den of moss. Virgil’s breath catches in his throat.

 The villagers had sent him a warning about a curse in the area. Fires had been going out. It had been impossible to keep warmth in the houses over the long winter nights. They’d been seeing figures in the smoke, sightings of, well, a mastiff. They’d contacted him to try and get it to leave.

 Well, the mastiff elemental is here, under the tree, looking back and forth between Virgil and something he can’t see, buried in the moss.

 “Is there something you wanna show me,” he asks softly, coming a little further into the clearing, “in there?”

 The elemental whines. He walks forward until he catches sight of a stone in the middle of the bed of moss. It’s cracked in two.

 “Is this what you wanted to show me,” he calls, shifting into a crouch, “this stone?”

 The elemental huffs, nudging his hand. It reaches past him and tries to pick up the stone in its mouth, only for it to drop. It puts its nose down and whines.

 “…was this your favorite stone to play with?” The elemental butts its head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry it broke. How’d it happen?”

 The elemental points its nose toward a jagged boulder in the corner of the clearing.

 “Ah, I see.”

 And you know what? Yeah, Virgil gets it. He’s dropped shit where he shouldn’t have dropped it before and it broke. What does it matter that this elemental is so upset over accidentally breaking its favorite toy that its warmth is so low the nearby villagers think it’s a curse?

 “Hey,” Virgil murmurs, reaching out to cup the two halves of the rock in his hands, “it’s okay. This rock—good choice by the way, very good choice—it’s part of the Perse Mountains, right? So it’s susceptible to fire magic.”

 He reaches into his slingshot bag and pulls out two small rocks. Using one on either side, he sandwiches the two halves of the broken rock together and holds it out to the elemental.

 “Now breath on it.”

 The elemental exhales carefully, bathing the rock in a steady stream of fire. Sure enough, in a few moments, thanks to Virgil holding it steady, the rock glows a soft yellow and reforges.

 “That’s good.” He takes it carefully between the stones and rolls it around the moss, trying to cool it. “Okay. Try now.”

 The elemental takes the rock gingerly between its teeth and yips.

 Virgil chuckles. “I’m glad I could help.”

 The elemental spins in a circle before turning back into the dog and licking Virgil’s cheek, barking excitedly.

 “Okay, okay, you’re welcome, jeez.” He half-heartedly shoves the dog’s head away. “You’re getting slobber all over me!”

 The dog pulls away and takes the rock into its mouth again, snuffling happily. Virgil shakes his head and gets up.

 “If that’s all, then I’m gonna go home.” The dog licks his hand one more time. “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

 And if a fire is already burning when he gets back home, well, that’s just a surefire way to know there was never a curse for the villagers to worry about.

 Get it? Surefire?

 Shut up, he’s hilarious.

 ————————————

“Ah, Virgil!”

 Virgil turns. The blacksmith waves at him from the market stalls. Dodging fruit carts and weaving his way through passers-by, he stops in front of the man and gestures to the new wares.

 “Good season, Anbel?”

 “Oh, the best!” Anbel gestures to the coin chest behind him. “You know how it is, goes in and out of season.”

 Absentmindedly, Virgil rubs at the scars on his arms. “I know the feeling.”

 “Anyways, I got that dagger you gave me to repair.”

 Anbel reaches behind him and pulls the dagger out of a leather bag. He holds it up. The deep gouges in the blade are gone, the handle isn’t tarnished anymore, and it looks…good.

 “Thank you, Anbel,” he says, reaching for it, “so how much?”

 “No charge.”

 “Come on.”

 “No charge,” Anbel repeats, “not for you.”

 Unbidden, a flush rises to his cheeks as he tucks the dagger into his belt. “Anbel…”

 “Alright,” the blacksmith says, holding up his hands, “I’ve got a favor to ask.”

 Virgil sighs. “What’d you do?”

 “Why do you assume that I did something?”

 Virgil just gives him a look.

 “…alright but this time it wasn’t me.”

 “Uh-huh.”

 Anbel smacks his chest. “I’m serious, there’s something wrong in the woods outside of town.”

 Virgil sobers, taking a step closer. “What is it?”

 “Dunno. But my horses won’t go past a particular stretch of land and I need to be able to make the trip next moon.”

 Virgil chews on his lip, thinking. “Did they run away or just refuse to go near?”

 “Refused to go near.” Anbel shakes his head. “Don’t know what’s gotten into them. They’re good mares.”

 “Have any others reported anything?”

 “Cindi had trouble getting through too.”

 “Where is it?”

 “Just before the bend in the river. Near the trees.”

 Virgil sighs. “I’ll have a look.”

 That’s how he finds himself wandering down the main road on the next cloudy day. He glances around to make sure there aren’t any other villagers nearby before he starts looking around. There’s a small grove of trees near the riverbank, a mound of rocks next to the bend in the road, and a rapid system rushing just out of sight.

 Maybe the horses were scared of the rapids? They’ve been known to spook before. But no, Anbel makes this trip every season. If the horses were going to spook at the rapids, they’ve done it before.

 Virgil frowns, coming to a stop in the middle of the grass between the road and the river. What could they’ve been startled by? There’s not enough space to hide anything here. The rocks are on the wrong side of the road. The river isn’t close or loud. And the trees aren’t close enough together to hide anything between them.

 …between them.

 Virgil holds very, very still.

 Out of the corner of his eye, one of the trunks shifts.

 He doesn’t move quickly, doesn’t draw his dagger, just lowers his eyes to the grass and turns, facing the trees, and takes a step backward. Then another. Then another. When he’s over ten yards away, he looks up.

 “I mean you no harm,” he calls, “I have no wish to interfere. I was told that there was something that scared a few horses and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

 The breeze rustles through the leaves.

 “I am happy to leave you here,” he continues, risking a step closer, “but I know that…this is probably not where you’d like to be. This isn’t an especially damp forest.”

 The trunk shifts again.

 “If there’s something I can do to help—“ he risks another step— “I’d be happy to.”

  There.

 The trunk shifts and seems to shrink inside as a jaculi unwinds itself from around its base. It blinks lazily at him with amber eyes, golden scales rippling in the faint light from the cloudy sky.

 “Hello,” Virgil waves, “can I—will you let me come closer?”

 The jaculi hisses and lays its head near the ground.

 “Thank you.” Virgil walks forward carefully, stopping a few feet away and crouching down. “Now, what brings you here? You look like you’re an awful long way from home.”

 The jaculi hisses again, its head swiveling toward the river. Virgil looks. Across the bank, he can see a much denser forest and what looks like a storm brewing.

 “You’ll be hurt,” he realizes, “if you try and stay here…”

 The jaculi coils tighter around the tree trunk.

 “How’d you get over here,” Virgil mutters, “you’d’ve needed to swim across…and that also won’t go well for you.”

 There’s a soft rustling as the jaculi buries its tail in a pile of leaves near the base of the tree. Virgil glances over to see it rubbing its face halfheartedly against the bark.

 His eyes widen.

 About a month ago there had been a terrible storm. His little cabin had barely held together. He’d heard reports from the tavern owner that it’d blown one of the old trees right over.

 “That’s how you got across,” he murmurs, mostly to himself, “you climbed across the tree. And now it’s gone and you’re stuck.”

 The jaculi blinks remorsefully at him.

 “Okay,” Virgil mutters, “okay, we can…we can figure this out.”

 They’ll have to do it at night. There’s no way the jaculi will feel safe enough to move while it’s still light out. There’s an old barn that never finished construction just over the ridge. One of those timber pieces is probably long enough to get over the river. And he can make a bridge wide enough to support the jaculi’s weight.

 He explains his plan to the jaculi, feeling a little ridiculous, but he’s allowed to explain what he’s doing to help someone, it’s fine, and says that he’ll be back. Promise.

 The landowner gives him a weird look when he asks to borrow the timber.

 “It’s too long for you to do anything with it,” he says, still helping Virgil load it onto a sled, “and much too tough for you to cut by yourself.”

 “It’s fine just the way it is,” Virgil says, “and thank you.”

 He waves Virgil off. “Keep it. You’re doing better than I am with it.”

 Virgil’s back at the river bend by sundown. He can’t see the jaculi anymore—it’s probably hidden itself for safety—but he calls out when he arrives.

 “I’m going to use these to make a bridge for you. It shouldn’t take me too long.”

 The pieces of timber are ungainly, to make a colossal understatement, but Virgil grits his teeth and slides them out of the sled. He wades a little into the river and—

  The water is so cold it burns. He has to keep going. It’s gaining on him. He’ll be safe in the water.

  The growls get closer and his foot slips—

 “No,” he mutters, “no, it’s not that. I’m fine. I’m standing, I’m not hurt, I’m not drowning.”

 He blinks down at his boots, the water swirling around his ankles. The timber in his hands shifts as he breathes. He’s fine. He’s fine.

 “Okay…okay.”

 He grits his teeth again and heaves, bringing the piece of timber with him. He wades further until it’s swirling around his waist. The piece of timber is just long enough to reach the other side. Onto the next one.

 He gets the five of them stretched across the river just as the last of the light vanishes. Panting, he struggles back up onto the side of the river bank and splays out onto his back, eyes closed.

 A low hiss sounds in his ear.

 He just manages to avoid a scream.

 “Hey,” he gasps instead, eyes flickering open to see the jaculi coiled up a few feet away, “uh…please don’t do that.”

 The jaculi just blinks at him.

“Uh…why don’t you, uh…” Virgil holds a hand to his chest, trying to get his breathing back under control. “…try out the bridge?”

 The jaculi slithers closer, flicking its tongue out against the timber. It looks back at Virgil.

 “Go on,” he encourages, “you can do it.”

 It slithers on, testing the boards against its weight.

 Virgil holds his breath until the jaculi vanishes into the trees across the river banks, slipping further and further into the darkness.

 Anbel leaves on his trip the next moon.

 ————————————

Honestly, when the kraken explodes out of Virgil’s well, he just sighs and fetches his bath so he can get the poor thing out.

 “Easy,” he grumbles when the kraken squirms so much he almost drops it, “you may be a young one but you’re still heavy.”

 Panting, he drops the tentacled beast into the full tub, his arms flying up to shield his face from the shower of sparkling drops. Judging by the happy trills and clicks, the kraken likes it in there. He shakes his head.

 “So that’s why I’ve been asked to fight a monster in the sewers,” he muses, watching the kraken’s tentacles writhe giddily in the metal tub, “just how did you end up so far inland?”

 The kraken, of course, does not deign to answer. Instead, the tentacles latch onto the side of the bath and threaten to tip the whole thing over.

 “No, you idiot,” Virgil shouts, grabbing onto the other side and weighing it down. He winces when more water spills onto him, drenching him head to toe. “Now look what you’ve done.”

 What the kraken has done, apparently, is get Virgil close enough so that its tentacles can haul Virgil into the tub.

 “Hey!”

 Virgil spits water out of his mouth, much to the kraken’s delight.

 “That was rude.”

 The kraken just chirps happily and wriggles around. Its tentacles stick to Virgil’s clothes and pull him through the water.

 Virgil’s chest tightens.

 One of the first things they teach you about krakens is never get in the water with them. The second thing they teach you about krakens is do not get in the water with them. The third thing they teach you about krakens is not to get too close to their tentacles so they don’t pull you into the water with them.

 And yeah, this is Virgil’s bathtub, not a river, a tide pool, or the open sea, but you can drown in an inch of water.

 Virgil presses his back up against the rim of the tub. The kraken seems to realize something’s wrong and settles, burbling softly.

 “Hey, bud,” Virgil says shakily, “I, uh, what’re you doing here?”

 The kraken twitches a few tentacles and more water slops over the edge.

 “Right…” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay, well, uh, I would rather not sit here and soak through all of my clothes, so I’m just going to—“

 As soon as he tries to move, the kraken wraps a tentacle around his leg and tugs.

 “Okay, okay, not leaving, not leaving, um—“ Virgil reaches down and takes a handful of the grass. Worst comes to worst, he can tip the tub and get the kraken back in the well.

 The kraken lets go as soon as he settles back in the water. Virgil looks at the creature carefully.

 There’s a mark on its head. Discoloration, probably, but still obvious. As he watches, the kraken burbles to itself and starts making little ripples in the surface of the water with its tentacles. After a moment, it starts gently pushing the water towards Virgil.

 The water laps at Virgil’s knees in little waves, not enough to wet him anymore—not that it would matter at this point—but enough to bounce back and make more patterns. The kraken trills softly and keeps doing it.

 Does it…want to play?

 Slowly, Virgil lifts his hands up and starts to push the water back. The kraken, realizing that Virgil is indeed committing to the idea that he is going to play with this kraken, trills louder and uses more of its tentacles to move the waves bigger.

 “Yeah? Is that how it works?” Virgil moves his hands. “Like that?”

 The kraken chirps.

 He’s not really sure how long they stay there, playing with the water, but it’s long enough for the sun to go down in the sky and Virgil to get more than a little chilly in the water.

 When the kraken notices that the water is rippling more around Virgil and he’s not moving his hands any faster, it wraps a tentacle around his ankle and tugs.

 “What? You tired?” The kraken leans its head against the side of the tub. “Okay. Well, I don’t know how long you can stay in here—“

 He cuts himself off when the kraken jabs a tentacle toward the well.

 “You wanna go back in there? It’s so small and cramped, and the sewers in town aren’t much better.”

 The kraken insists.

 Sure. Why not.

 Virgil grunts as he lifts the kraken back into the bucket, carefully lowering the creature down into the well. He hears one more trill before splashing sounds indicate that the creature is gone.

 Funnily enough, reports of the sewer beast vanish overnight.

 When Virgil wakes up panting from a nightmare of ropes around his neck, the glass of water on his bedside table is perfectly cold.

 ————————————

Virgil curses as the sole of his boot slips. He just manages to catch himself against the cliffside before splitting his knee on a harsh spire of rock. Gritting his teeth, he forces himself onward.

 The cliffs frown over him as he makes his way up the pass. The rocks crumble threateningly as his boots crunch, crunch, crunch. The sword on his hip feels too heavy. He curses, tugging his glove the rest of the way onto his hand.

 He never was one for dragon hunts.

 The message came in a week ago. Some poor terrified soul had come screaming into the town, ranting about dragons, missing people, curses, the whole lot. Virgil had taken up the call and set off, promising to get to the bottom of it.

 He never promised to hurt anything.

 Thunder rolls ominously in the distance and he bites back another curse. There’s a cave up ahead, he can see it just over the next ridge, he’ll rest there.

 In all honesty—and he can be honest, now there’s no one else around—he hates these kinds of missions. Finding something is one thing. Going to get something is one thing. Rescuing someone is one thing.

 This feels like something else.

 There’s something in his boot. There’s a wrinkle in the thinnest shirt he’s wearing. The sword belt is digging into his hip. The voices in his head won’t shut the fuck up.

 The cave is right there.

 He all but collapses to his knees as soon as he makes it inside, just as the first drops of rain land on the back of his armor. He breathes a sigh of relief, heading further into the cave, into the safety, out of the storm.

 It’s quiet here.

 He takes the knife out of its loop on his belt and sets about setting up a fire. There’s a reasonable stash of dry wood here, probably enough to keep him going throughout the night. He makes a small bundle and lights it, blowing on it until it catches and burns merrily.

 Shrugging off his pack, he leans it up against the wall and starts to dig out the dried meat. He tears off a long strip with his teeth and chews slowly, staring into the flames.

 There’s something nice about fire. Not all fire—he’s got the burns to prove that—but this fire. Controlled fire. He sits back on his hands, brushing aside the eggshells to lean against the cave wall.

 Controlled fire is…justified chaos. It’s strange, to think of chaos as being justified. But that’s what it is. A controlled burn. Snapping and sparking amidst a small mound of wood, warm. Safe. It’s strange to think of fire as safe, too.

 Virgil sits back, finishing off his meal and closing his eyes. The fire is very, very warm. Much warmer than he would expect for just a small campfire. And a little irregular, too. It comes in waves, pants, almost.

 …wood, eggshells…

 Okay, look.

 Look.

 Virgil’s tired, okay?

 It’s not like this is what normally happens to him on hunts.

 He knows what he’s doing.

 He does!

 It’s fine.

 This is fine.

 This is so utterly fine right now.

 But…okay, yeah, maybe Virgil’s not been paying as much attention as he should be. And maybe he’s fighting down a panic attack right now. And maybe he’s frozen in fear to the floor of this cave and not sure how he’s survived this long.

 Whatever.

 Virgil cracks an eye open.

 “…hey, there, dragon.”

 Surprisingly enough, his head does not get immediately bitten off. Instead, the dragon looks at him, nostrils puffing hot air into his face. The smell of dank cavern air mixes with what Virgil really hopes isn’t decomposing human.

 “Um…fancy seeing you here?”

 The dragon huffs louder, still staring into Virgil’s soul. He risks a glance over its shoulder to make sure that yes, this is the only dragon in this cave, there aren’t suddenly going to be five of them. He spies the scales trailing further into the darkness, muscular legs, long, powerful tail. The dragon growls, snapping his eyes back.

 “Hey, uh—didn’t mean to invade your cave.” Virgil scoots backward. “That was absolutely my fault. I can, uh—well, I can’t really promise to leave you alone, but I, uh…rain check?”

 As if on cue, thunder booms from outside.

  Shit.

 A lower growl sounds from the dragon as its mouth curls up. Wow, those teeth are long…

 “Can you, uh—so I know that this is a pretty big request, considering I just, you know, invaded your cave, but uh—maybe don’t eat me?”

 Judging by the growl, that’s a no.

 “Okay, I, uh—“ Virgil risks a glance around. His fire is still burning. Maybe he can at least get the dragon to back up before he—

 He pauses.

 Near the fire, the dragon’s leg looks…wet. Its scales are stained with a dark splotch coming from somewhere higher up. As he watches, the dragon shifts its weight and it gets wetter.

 “You’re hurt,” he says softly, “you’re—oh, god, you’re hurt.”

 He looks back up. The dragon’s snarl doesn’t quite soften, but its mouth relaxes a little.

 “I’ve got salve and bandages in my pack,” he says cautiously, “if you let me get them, I can—I can help?”

 Slowly, ever so slowly, he moves his hand to his pack, keeping the other one raised as he opens the flap and takes out the bottle and the bandages.

 “Can I have a look, please? I’m just gonna…”

 The dragon huffs cautiously as Virgil turns, moving around its body to crouch next to its injured leg. Now that he’s closer, he can see what’s happened.

 A shard of metal is lodged in the soft space between two of the scales. Every time the dragon moves, it shifts, spilling more and more blood. Judging by how loud the dragon is breathing, it must really hurt.

 “You poor thing,” he mutters, “how long has this been here?”

 No response.

 “We gotta get it out,” he says instead, looking for something he can use, “if we leave it in you might get infected, or…something else bad will happen.”

 He pulls a pair of pliers from his pack and the dragon snorts.

 “Easy, easy—“ the dragon’s eyes go wide at the glint of the flame off the metal— “hey, it’s okay, I’m gonna use these to get that metal outta you, yeah?”

 It seems an hour before the dragon calms, gingerly stretching out its leg so Virgil can see the shard. Taking a deep breath, he hooks the pliers around the edge of the metal.

 “Ready on three, okay?” He grits his teeth. “One…two…three!”

 He yanks.

 The dragon roars as the metal shard comes out in his hands, the side release almost sending him toppling back into the fire. Quickly, he discards the tools and reaches out to soothe the dragon, petting its scales and hushing it gently.

 “Shh, shh, it’s out now, it’s okay, it can’t hurt you anymore.” He runs a hand over the dragon’s heaving back. “I’m gonna help you, okay? I’m here to help.”

 It seems to calm the dragon, its breathing slowly but surely calming down as Virgil continues to speak softly to it. Honestly, if it were this easy to calm himself down, he would have a lot fewer problems.

 “I’ve got to clean it,” he says after a minute, “just to make sure you don’t get infected. Then I’ll be done, okay?”

 The dragon swivels its massive head around, looking at the wound, then back at Virgil. It heaves a great sigh and its chin comes to rest on the floor, staring at him. Guess that’s as close to permission as he’s gonna get.

 “Thank you. This, uh, this may sting a bit.”

 He barely gets a flinch as he starts cleaning the cut. Dragons. Once he’s wrapped the dragon’s leg as best he can, he turns to peer at the shard of metal he pulled out of the wound. He holds it up, examining it in the firelight.

 It looks…wrong.

 It’s too thick to be just something that happened to get in there, but too jagged to be something natural. It looks like it snapped off of something, but it’s not the right shape to be an arrowhead or a piece of a building. So what…?

 He turns when the dragon starts to move.

 It heaves itself to its feet, testing out its weight on all four legs. When the pain doesn’t shoot through, it lumbers off, further into the cave. Its head dips down, out of sight for a moment, before it turns and starts back toward the fire, dragging something in its mouth.

 Virgil’s eyes widen when another bag is dropped in front of him.

 “Is this…is this someone else’s?” He lays his fingers carefully on its surface. “Did…did you…did someone else come here before me?”

 The dragon huffs.

 With trembling fingers, he flips open the bag. There’s a good store of meat in here, a change of clothes, something for armor, it’s a provisions bag. One side has a little loop attached with nothing inside.

 “…someone tried to stab you,” he realizes in horror, looking back up at the dragon. “Someone tried to fight you but couldn’t. So they stabbed you in the leg.”

 His fists clench.

 “They hurt you.”

 Another huff. Then the dragon nudges the bag toward him again.

 “Is there something else in here?” Virgil starts sorting through the possessions. He lays the clothes to one side, the bottles to another. When he gets to the food, the dragon leans forward and snorts, blowing hot air into his face.

 “This? This is what you want me to get?” He looks at it. It’s just more dried meat. It, uh, it actually looks a little better than his. “Are you hungry?”

 The dragon snorts at Virgil’s pack, then at the food in his hands.

 “…are you…giving this to me because I’m still hungry?”

 Another huff, longer this time, and the dragon’s head comes to rest on the floor, eyes staring up at him.

 Virgil swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Well, that’s—thank you.”

 The dragon rumbles as he starts to eat, eyes blinking lazily. Virgil tries not to mind too much.

 And…honestly? It’s not that bad. He’s had worse audiences when he’s just trying to eat. The dragon switches its tail every now and then, huffing gently to keep the fire going. It’s…nice.

 Virgil finishes eating as much of the food as he wants and tucks the rest away. He takes a moment to just…look.

 “The other person,” he says eventually, “the one that hurt you…they—I think they wanted to kill you.”

 The dragon stares at him like he just said the sky is blue.

 “No, really, I—I don’t think they wanted anything else.” He shakes his head. “We’re not near enough to any villages for that to be the reason, there aren’t any traveling paths through here, there’s…there’s no other reason. I think they just wanted to kill you.”

 The cave falls quiet as the rain pours outside.

 “…I think they wanted me to kill you too.”

 Virgil’s chest aches. Something in his right hand tingles.

“Why do they always want me to kill you?”

 And he’s not just talking about the dragon now.

 It’s always the same.

 Fight this. Kill that. Rescue us from this. Save us from that.

 What if you’re not the ones that need to be saved?

 Virgil lets his chin drop to his chest and sighs. His sword hangs heavy at his hip. His hands tremble in the burning light of the fire.

 “I hate to impose,” he manages through a sluggish tongue, “but…may I stay? Just until the storm passes?”

 A low thud makes him look up. The dragon shifts, its tail curled in a half-circle around Virgil and the fire. It huffs softly.

 “Thank you.”

 ————————————

Sometimes he has sleepless nights. Drifts in blackness and emptiness until it’s time to get up. Or he’ll close his eyes for what feels like an instant before he wakes up the next day.

 Sometimes he has restless nights. Can’t sleep, can’t manage to get more than a few minutes of tense darkness before his eyes shoot open and he has to reassure himself that’s he can sleep.

 Sometimes he has good nights. Dreams of sunshine and warmth and the safety of a hot drink between his palms. Closing his eyes and just hearing the peaceful hum of his cabin.

 Most of the time he has nightmares. The good ones are just mixes of monsters he can’t see coming, kills he wishes he didn’t have to make. Losing someone he should’ve been able to save.

 This one’s a bad one.

  Jaws close down on his arm. The creature whips its head back and forth, shaking him like a rag doll. He grits his teeth and tries to—

  His eyes widen as the burning roof collapses on top of him. A heavy beam falls onto his chest and he can’t move, he’s going to—

  The cliff face collapses under him and he plummets, fingers scrabbling for a hold against the crumbling face. He can’t reach, he can’t reach—

 “….shut up, you’re gonna wake him up!”

 “If you stop shouting, then he won’t.”

 “Shh, the both of you.”

 “This is certainly working, I think we should all keep talking like this.”

 “Oh, don’t you start!”

 “Hey, hey, shh! He’s waking up!”

 Virgil is waking up, as a matter of fact, and he also has no idea where he is or what’s going on. He does know there are at least five people in this room with him though. That’s either a good thing or a really, really bad thing.

 He can feel rocks under his head. Is he still in the cave, then? How other people…here? Where’s the dragon?

 “Hey,” one of the voices says, “are you okay? You kinda, uh, well, you weren’t looking very good for a little bit there.”

 “Back up, you morons, you’re gonna scare him!”

 “We’re not scary, shut up.”

 “You’re scary.”

 “All of you be quiet,” the first voice says, before it softens again. “Hey, can you open your eyes?”

  Well, I’ve definitely made worse decisions.

 He wholeheartedly concurs with that thought when the first thing he sees is genuinely one of the most attractive people he’s ever had the pleasure of meeting face to face.

 “There you are,” the beautiful person says, “good morning. Is your head alright?”

 “Uh—“ not now gay panic— “uh?”

 “Back up, Logan,” another person says, “let me see.”

 Logan—great name, sure, why not—moves out of the way, and oh god there’s two of them.

 “Hi!” The other attractive person leans over Virgil and gods— “are you hurt? You looked a little upset while you were sleeping.”

 “You—“ Virgil does not squeak— “you watched me while I was sleeping?”

 “Well, you fell asleep and Roman got worried, so—“

 “I’m sorry,” Virgil interrupts, “who—who are you?”

 The person in front of him tilts his head. “Don’t you recognize us?”

  I would absolutely fucking remember meeting you, and I do not.

 “Patton,” Logan says, “he’s a mortal. He won’t—we are not as we were when he met us.”

 The butterflies in Virgil’s stomach ice.

 These…these are creatures. Is he—what supernatural force did he piss off?

 Logan smiles at him and winks. First off, rude, but—

 Virgil squints. One of the man’s eyes is a deep bluish-grey. The other one—the one he just winked with—is a dappled brown.

 Oh.

 “…you’re the sprite.”

 “I am,” he says, “my name is Logan.”

 Something nudges his shoulder. Virgil looks over to see Patton offering him a round stone.

 “…the mastiff elemental?”

 “Patton, actually.” Patton smiles and gestures over Virgil’s other shoulder.

  Why are there five of them and why are they all so pretty?

 “Can you guess who they are?”

 One of them rolls his eyes. “Yes, that sounds like a perfect use of time that isn’t at all a waste.”

 “Okay, so you’re the jaculi.”

 He smirks. “Janus.”

 The one near the entrance to the cave just cackles and bounces on the balls of his feet. Almost like…

 “You made me spill the bathtub over my whole yard!”

 He cackles louder. “Yes, I did!”

 Virgil rolls his eyes. He’s not fond. He’s not.

 “Remus,” Logan scolds, “you said you were just going into the well.”

 “He took me out!”

 “Yeah, because that thing is cramped as hell.”

 “Aww,” Patton coos, “how sweet.”

 “Well,” the last one says, smiling softly from one of the darker corners of the cave, “we knew that, didn’t we?”

 Virgil turns, looking hard into the darkness. The last person stands, walking over slowly, leaning most of his weight on one leg. As he moves into the light, he sits down on the log and reaches down. Virgil’s eyes widen as he gets handed the last of the dried meat.

 “You’re still hungry,” the person says softly, “I can tell.”

 Virgil cannot eat right now, thank you very much. Instead, his eyes are fixed on his bandage, still tied sloppily around the person’s leg.

 “You’re the dragon.”

 “I am. But you can call me Roman.”

 “…does it still hurt?”

 “Oh, this?” He smiles and moves his leg. “A little. But it’s almost better,” he finishes, reaching over to gently bump Virgil’s shoulder, “thanks to you.”

 Yes, hello? Virgil would like for someone to explain what’s going on, please.

 “I’m sure you’ve got questions,” Logan says, also sitting down, “and we can do our best to answer them. But first…are you alright?”

 Uh, no. “Why do you think I’m not?”

 “You’re breathing faster than most mortals do at rest, your face is more flushed than it was, and you were troubled while you slept.”

 …shhh…

 “I, um…I was having a nightmare.”

 “Ooh,” Remus says, plopping down on the floor with his chin propped up on his hands, “was it a bad one?”

 “…you could say that.”

 “Remus,” Patton chides, “don’t.”

 Remus pouts but hushes, reaching out to toy with a stick. Patton rolls the stone between his hands.

 “You did seem upset,” Janus says, “can we help?”

 “H-help?”

 Janus raises an eyebrow. “Yes, help. Or is that not a thing most mortals do?”

 Um. Well. Uh, hang on.

 “Are you just going to be mean to him,” Logan sighs, “or are we actually going to make an effort to be friendly with the person we have decided to befriend?”

 “Can one of you explain what’s going on?” Patton nods to Virgil. “Before he decides we’re all mad?”

 Roman sighs. “Virgil? Are you still hungry?”

 “Huh? No, no, I’m…I’m okay.”

 He smiles. “Good. This…this might sound a bit strange, but…try and keep up?”

 “As weird as it might sound, this isn’t the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

 Roman blinks in surprise, a small smile coming over his face. “Isn’t it?”

 “Well, you must have some idea of what I do for a living.”

 Roman’s smile only grows. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we do.”

 Logan clears his throat. Virgil turns, seeing the book from his cabin appear in Logan’s hands.

 “Did you—is that my—“

 “I can assure you,” Logan says softly, “that I did not steal your book from you. Rather, this is a copy, generated from the information I was able to learn.”

 “What did you want?”

 “We were cursed.” Logan closes the book with a snap. “Cursed to take on forms that were hated or feared or simply a nuisance.”

 Virgil’s stomach drops. Cursed?

 “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “that sounds…awful.”

 “It was,” Janus mutters, “completely inconvenient and an utter waste of time.”

 “You say like it wasn’t your fault.”

 “Oh, right, it was absolutely only my fault.”

 “You two,” Patton huffs, “enough.”

 Virgil’s still trying to wrap his head around everything. “Wait, hang on, so—you were cursed? Were? Past tense?”

 “Well,” Janus gestures to himself, “I don’t exactly look like a snake anymore, do I?”

 He raises a finger when Virgil opens his mouth.

 “Careful, dear.”

 Virgil snaps his mouth shut.

 Roman rolls his eyes and places a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “You broke the curse, my friend. Or at least…you helped us break it.”

 “But how? I didn’t—I didn’t do anything.”

 He raises an eyebrow and gestures to the bandage. “You don’t consider this doing anything?”

 “Or this?” Patton holds up the stone.

 Logan taps the cover of the book. “You helped us. When you had no reason to, past the goodness of your heart.”

 “We would’ve been hurt,” Janus says quietly, “or hunted without you. They certainly would’ve killed me.”

 “And me,” Remus says.

 Patton nods. “And me.”

 Roman simply taps his leg. Right. They already tried to kill him.

 Virgil blinks. “So…me helping broke the curse?”

 “You caring broke the curse,” Logan corrects gently, “and, well, when you...when you seemed to be in need, we wanted to care for you too.”

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, fuck.

 “So,” Roman says, smiling up at Virgil, “how can we help?”

 “Help? With—with what?”

 “The nightmares.”

 “Oh,” Virgil mumbles, averting his eyes, “you, uh, can’t. Not really. They’re not a curse or magical or anything. They’re just nightmares.”

 “But there must be something we can do.”

 He shakes his head sadly. Believe him, if there were anything five unfairly attractive people could do, he’d tell them. But there isn’t. “They come with the job. There’s not—no one can do anything.”

 He can practically hear Patton frowning. “That’s not very fair. You do so much for others, don’t they—don’t they care?”

 Virgil shrugs. “Life isn’t fair.”

 “So take what it won’t give you.” Janus folds his arms. “They don’t care for you. Even though you care for them.”

 “They do care for me,” Virgil argues, “they’re kind. They help me.”

 “Not with this,” he shoots back, “not with what you really need.”

 “You protect everyone,” Roman says softly when Virgil opens his mouth to argue again, “who protects you?”

 Who protects the protector?

 “…no one.” Virgil shakes his head. “No one but me.”

 “Well, you’re right. That doesn’t seem fair at all.” Logan sets the book aside and it vanishes into the darkness of the cave. “Perhaps we should endeavor to fix that.”

 “F-fix it?” Virgil’s head jerks up. “How?”

 “Let us protect you.”

 “Protect me?”

 “Do keep up,” Janus sighs, but he’s pretty sure he can see him smiling over there, “at the very least, we have magic. That should offer you something.”

 “You don’t have to decide right now,” Roman says quickly, “but…thought we’d offer. Think it over.”

 …well, if ‘protection’ involves seeing them more often, Virgil can definitely work with that.

 “While I think it over, will you tell me how you got cursed?”

 “So it was entirely Janus’s fault—“

 “It was not!”

 “Yes, it was!”

 As Remus and Janus start arguing, Virgil smiles and leans back against the wall of the cave. Roman waves his hand and the cave wall warms, almost cradling Virgil. Logan settles on his other side, weight solid against his arm.

 Yeah, he could get used to this.

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