#i promise i will draw them better later i was tored when i made this

[ultimatefartwizard]

Rough drawing i did with my phone and finger in class of these two goobers

Ik damn well people gonna hate her (at least at first) but I will stand NO STOLLEN SLANDER IN THIS HOUSEHOLD!

IN THIS HOUSEHOLD WE CHERISH AND RESPECT THIS BLUE HAIR PRONOUNS DEER I WILL DEFEND HER TILL THE END

She is my lovely little autistic train loving deer I'm devsisters now and what i say is full truth nobody can tell me otherwise

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

What You've Done, You Cannot Undo (Medieval AU)

Chapter 14

Dew has a heart to heart with Cirrus. Mist has an idea of how to help Rain.

This chapter was fun to write! I hope you enjoy it.

Rating: M Content: hospitals Words: 6566

Links to full fic: Tumblr | AO3

Hi tag gang! @everybodyshusband @rainsbasspick @revengeghoulette

Read below, or on AO3!

The rest of the pack came running in to find Dew sat next the bed, shaken. Rain appeared to be sleeping again, although a quintosis-induced slumber would never be truly restful to anyone without a quintessence connection. After he had been pulled away from Rain, Dew had continued thrashing to reach him for a while longer, before calming down rather suddenly. He suspected quintessence was involved, but due to the number of hands on him at the time he didn't know who to blame.

Dew stared straight ahead, seething quietly, his eyes never leaving Rain even for a second as his pack joined him.

“What happened?” winced Aether, smelling both the lingering fear and the telltale sting of ozone from large amounts of quintessence.

“Rain had a nightmare,” Dew answered flatly, “I wasn't here to help him, and he panicked.”

Quietly, the ghouls seated themselves next to Dew by Rain's bedside. Until they could work out exactly what was wrong with him, this was the best they can do.

Cirrus, Cumulus and Sunshine were still hovering nearby, watching the mood switch from frantic concern to a sombre wait for news. Feeling like they were intruding on a private moment between the pack, they excused themselves with promises to report back to those in the library and bring lunch to them in due course.

The pack stayed there for the rest of the day. Eventually, the quintessence wore off and Rain began to stir, at which point Dew kicked his shoes off and dove for the bed. He wasn’t going to risk Rain having another nightmare without him there to wake and comfort him. Tactfully, the others made no comment. They stayed by his bedside all afternoon, until the sun disappeared from the windows and was replaced by enchanted lanterns and candles.

Cirrus came by in the evening to try and coax them into joining the ghoulettes for dinner. Rain’s condition was unchanged, pointed out the quintessence ghoul currently checking in on him, and they had to eat and rest too. Somewhat reluctantly, Aether agreed, then the Swiss and Mountain followed suit. Dew however, refused. Rain was close to sleep, he argued, and shouldn’t be left alone.

“Fine,” Aether sighed, “but we’re going to fix you a plate, and you are going to eat that and change into pyjamas while we watch Rain later.”

Dew huffed, but agreed. It had been silently acknowledged by all that Dew would be spending the night in the infirmary again, everyone knowing better than to argue or even draw attention to it. The quintessence ghouls orbiting the infirmary sighed in relief: Dew had involuntarily hissed at them three times as they tried conducting their various check-ups throughout the afternoon, and they would be glad of the chance to tend to him in peace.

When the ghouls returned an hour later they were well fed, and in slightly better spirits for having got out of the stuffy infirmary. Dew was still curled around Rain like a dragon around it’s hoard, fussing over the sleeping ghoul.

“Food is with Cirrus in the common room, pyjamas are laid out on the bed.” Aether announced, knowing that if any task took a second longer than necessary that Dew would simply skip it.

Dew reluctantly untangled himself, fussing to make sure Rain was comfortable, and grudgingly put his shoes back on before taking one last look and bolting from the room like a bullet from a gun. Aether cracked his knuckles, attracting the attention of the lurking quintessence ghouls, and gestured to Rain.

“He’s all yours.”

Dew tore down the corridor, anxiety prickling at his skin with every second he was away from Rain. What if he had another nightmare? Logically, Dew knew that he was in good hands; an infirmary full of quintessence ghouls and the rest of their pack were perfectly capable of waking the water ghoul and calming him down like he had done previously. Emotionally however, Dew was a wreck. He had promised Rain he would protect him, that he was safe now. Yet he still couldn’t save him from the torment of his own mind.

Thinking back to barely two weeks ago, Dew had resented the water ghoul’s very existence. He would probably have called him pathetic for still having nightmares at his age, let alone comforted him through them and holding him while he slept. However, with their souls flayed bare; their vulnerabilities shared, Dew saw just how much they had in common. In taking care of Rain, he felt like he was healing a part of himself from the past. There was one key difference between them, Dew realised. One which may account for why he felt so protective over him now: Rain still believed there was good in the world. Dew’s jaded life view had followed him around and weighed him own like a ball and chain for as long as he could remember, however Rain still trusted people to be good and kind. He saw the joy in the mundane, when Dew struggled to see happiness when it stared him in the face.

Rain was too gentle a soul to risk being hurt, by him or by the world he was so optimistic about. He was too precious for Dew to be entrusted with, yet selfishly he wanted all his radiance for himself. Dew didn’t know how it had taken him so long to see; maybe his own misery had been dulling Rain’s shine this whole time. Now though, this creature that he finally recognised the beauty of, both inside and out, was trusting Dewdrop not to hurt him. He was relying on him to guide him through the darkest moments of his existence, and Dew finally felt a flicker of hope for himself. If he could protect Rain, guard him against the harm his own mind seemed determined to conjure then maybe, just maybe, he could deserve to bask in his presence for a while.

Every step further from him, lying sick and helpless in the infirmary, felt wrong. He should be next to him, prepared to fight. Aether and the others were right though; he was no use if he made himself sick. He needed to eat, to sleep, to let his mind be occupied by other lighter thoughts. Only if he cared for himself would he be prepared and deserving of taking care of Rain.

Reaching the Den, Dew was greeted by the warm and comforting smell of tomatoes and onions. He slowed to a walking pace and slunk into the common room. Cirrus was just laying cutlery beside a foil covered dish as he entered, her gentle smile nourishing his mind as much as the food would nourish his body. She uncovered the plate of steaming pasta for him and placed a small dish of dried chillies next to it. Touched that she remembered his dislike for the kitchen staff’s somewhat bland food, even after so long, Dew felt tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He tried to drown them in forkfuls of spaghetti, unsuccessfully, his bottom lip beginning to tremble and a sob bubbling up in his throat.

“Oh Dewbug, what’s wrong?” Cirrus gasped, slipping into the seat beside him and immediately pulling him into a hug. She stroked his hair as he cried against her chest, fat, wet tears staining her nightshirt as every confusing and upsetting emotion he had hed onto so tightly came bursting out of him at once. Dew sobbed harder as she comforted him, feeling like a kit. However, unlike when Dewdrop was a kit, Cirrus didn’t tell him to stop his wailing. She simply held him, rocking him gently until he was all out of tears to cry.

“I’m scared, Riri,” he choked out between harsh breaths, “I’m so scared.”

“I know, Droplet, I know.” She continued petting at his hair soothingly, as the wracking sobs shaking his entire body subsided. Dew seemed to want to talk but she could tell he didn’t know where to begin.

“Are you scared about Rain?” Cirrus prompted gently. Dew nodded, sniffing back yet more tears. With a shuddering breath, he lifted his head,

“What if he doesn’t get better?”

“Oh Sweetheart,” Cirrus hoisted him until he was practically on her lap so she could hug him tighter, “he will! The quintessence ghouls will try everything!”

“A-and,” Dew struggled even more, burying his face in her chest again, muffling his words so she could barely hear them, “what if he does get better, and then realises he doesn't need me anymore?”

“What do you mean Dewbug?”

He looked up at her with heartbroken eyes,

“Rain deserves better than to be chained to me the rest of his life. And I'm scared it's going to hurt when he realises that.”

Cirrus wrapped him up tighter in her arms, tutting softly at him.

“You deserve happiness too, Dew. He'd be a fool not to want you.”

“I'm scared of that too,” Dew whispered, “I'm scared of how much I want him to want me.”

Hearing those words spoken aloud, however softly, made Dew finally grasp the truth of them. They had been weighing so heavily on his mind over the last few days, stirring it into a frenzy. He wanted Rain. He wanted Rain to want him back. He wanted, so badly it hurt. Dew even didn't know that he knew how to want; he had only ever known need before.

“I know I'm not good enough for him,” Dew shook his head at the look Cirrus gave him, “I can barely take care of myself, I run away from all my problems... Rain needs someone strong, a protector. How can I be anything but a drain on him?”

“You want to be good enough,” Cirrus reasoned, “that's all you need. Nobody is ever perfect.”

Dew sniffed, unconvinced.

“Besides, it's not up to you to decide if you're good enough. If Rain thinks you are, that's his choice!”

"How can I be though Cir? He's stuck in the infirmary, sick because I dragged him all this way when he was already fragile, and I'm sat here whining instead of being there for him!”

“You have three other pack members, no?” She swept away the tears that were threatening to fall again. “They're keeping an eye on him now so you can take care of yourself, that's what pack are for! You don't have to do everything alone.”

Dew wiped his nose on his sleeve. “What if I mess everything up? I have no idea what I'm doing!”

Cirrus smiled, feeling like the big sister she supposed that she was to him.

“You'll learn. You should've seen me and Lulu when we first met; dancing around each other for so long, it's a wonder our clan didn't bash our heads together in frustration!”

Chuckling wetly, Dew tried to imagine the cool and collected air ghoul with a crush. He found it almost impossible to picture.

Another thought continued plaguing his mind, however. The crushing weight of the secret he had kept from his whole pack felt extra heavy in this place, surrounded by people who had known him before as a ghoulette. He felt queasy at the thought of Rain or any of his pack finding out from someone other than himself. Within this room however, there was no secret; Cirrus knew and accepted him, she understood.

“Rain doesn't know about– doesn't know that I'm–” he gestured wildly at his body, the head to toe sweeps of his arms nearly overbalancing him. Cirrus squeezed him tightly,

“All you can do is talk to him Dew. I can't tell you what so say other than be open with him, show him your heart, and hope he understands.”

Dew nodded; he knew that really, but it didn't make it any easier.

“What if Rain is only being nice to me right now because I'm helping him? Or out of some obligation from the human marriage ceremony?”

Now Dew had started sharing his thoughts, they just kept coming. Every fear, every doubt, all pouring out and fighting with each other for attention.

“Do you really think Rain would be playing with you like that?” asked Cirrus with genuine concern. She knew nothing of the water ghoul's sweet and naive personality, Dew supposed. He considered it for a moment, before shaking his head thoughtfully. “I don't think he would even think to.”

Cirrus hummed, “You both sound unfamiliar with all this, he's probably having some of the same worries you are.”

“No, he's not,” Dew sighed, something that felt like jealousy tickling the back of his throat, “he was courting a water ghoulette to be his mate, back when he was with his birth clan.”

One of Cirrus's perfectly arched eyebrows shot unbidden towards her hairline.

“Well then,” she said after schooling her face back to one of familial concern, “he understands how longing feels. If you think there's something there with him, explore it!”

She mussed up Dew's hair affectionately, then immediately smoothed it back down before he could fuss.

“Protect your heart, but don't keep it locked inside a cage forever, alright?”

Dew managed a weak smile through watery eyes, leaning into her for a final hug.

“C'mon,” Cirrus said after a while, releasing him, “let's reheat that pasta and get you back to your water ghoul.”

She stayed next to him as he heated his hands around the bowl, blowing the warmth towards the food with her own power like a fan oven. As Dew ate, she leaned against him for comfort and occasionally stole odd ends of spaghetti for herself. When he was done, Cirrus brought him a drink of water and Dew stood up on wobbly legs, ready to go and change. She left him to head to his room with a final squeeze of his hand.

“Things are going to be alright,” she cooed in his ear, “Rain will get better soon, just give him time to recover.”

Dew reached for the doorknob,

“Oh,” Cirrus added with a smirk, “and if for some reason he doesn't feel the same way about you, then he's the stupidest ghoul I've ever laid eyes on!”

Rolling his eyes, Dew headed to his room with a blush tinting his cheeks a deep peach colour.

As Aether had promised, a full set of fresh sleep clothes were folded neatly for him on the foot of the bed. Dew changed quickly, carefully avoiding the mirror so as not to see his undoubtedly blotchy and tear-stained face. With the bathroom in darkness, he splashed cold water on his face and hoped that would be enough to disguise his recent crying from the others.

He pottered back into the common room to give Cirrus a final goodnight hug before returning to the infirmary. She was clearly expecting him to; leant against the counter and facing the door while two cups of camomile tea for her and Cumulus brewed.

“Night Dewbug.” she gave him a bone crushing hug, which he returned in sentiment, if not in strength. “Good luck.”

When Dew flitted along the hallways and back into the infirmary, he found the ghouls sat almost exactly where he had left them; with no sign of the hovering quintessence ghouls and their tests. Swiss was perched closer to the bed, holding Rain's hand and gently chattering at him about the people they had met that day. Dew was pleased Rain wasn't laying there alone.

Aether and Mountain looked up as he approached. He saw the concern on their faces, both at his unexpectedly lengthy dinner break, and no doubt at the clear signs on his face that he had been crying.

“You're back! We were starting to wonder if Cirrus hadn't let you leave!” Aether tried to make light of the situation, shooting a glance at Mountain to do the same. Dew laughed weakly, appreciating their efforts.

“No, but she did sit by me to make sure I ate the whole plate before coming back!”

Dew slunk up to the other side of the bed from Swiss and hopped up to slot himself behind the water ghoul.

“He's not asleep anymore,” murmured Swiss, “but he feels more relaxed than this morning.”

“Thank you.” Dew whispered back, not meeting his eyes. If they were full of pity, he didn’t want to see.

A short while later, once it was apparent that Rain was slowly slipping back into unconsciousness and Dew was not in a talking mood, the ghouls left the infirmary. Out of their watchful gaze, Dew pressed himself even closer to Rain and allowed himself to follow him into a deep slumber.

The next morning, Dew awoke to the smell of freshly brewed coffee; a delicacy in the northern region.

“Wakey wakey!” Cooed Mist, wafting the mug near his face. Well, as close to his face as she could reach, seeing as how Dew had once again embedded it between Rain’s shoulder blades, his nose and chin perfectly settling into the divots of his spine.

“Wa’ time ‘s it?” He managed to slur out, still not fully awake.

“It’s mid-morning already,” Mist cackled, “you’ve slept almost twelve hours! Neither of you were moving, so Sunny took your pack out for a tour of the greenhouses.”

Dew reached up to rub sleep from his eyes – crying always left them crusty the next morning – before realising the rather compromising and intimate position he was in. Not only was his face pressed flush against Rain’s back, their legs were also slotted together, every possible inch of Dew plastered along the water ghoul.

Mist raised an eyebrow, as Dew blushed scarlet and tried to scramble free. Rain snuffled in his sleep, pressing back to chase the warmth of Dew’s body.

“Aren’t you meant to be in the library?” huffed Dew, straightening out his sleep shirt that had ridden up, and accepting the coffee from Mist.

“Nope!” She gloated, popping the ‘p’ with a smirk. “Copia sent me to tell you we’re all done! I thought I’d come and bother you for a proper catch-up.”

“That’s nice,” murmured Dew, distracted by the water ghoul’s tail emerging to curl around his own.

“What’s up with husband dearest?” Mist slurped at her own steaming mug. “He must’ve taken a Hell of a beating to still be sick now.”

“We’re not sure,” Dew sighed, “I keep seeing the Quints in long and deep discussions and they keep prodding at his energy, but all they say is he’s weak and they don’t know why. I don’t even know if it’s something they can fix…”

Mist narrowed her eyes.

“He's not just injured? Explain to me exactly what happened to him.”

Dew recapped everything he could remember. From Rain’s magic snapping into place so suddenly when he went to try and use it; to his beatings and strange shocking power; to his fluctuating recovery and decline and eventual fainting in the Abbey courtyard.

“So, he had a sudden burst of energy just over two weeks ago, another one a few days ago, and he was at his weakest somewhere in-between.” Mist spoke very slowly, like Dew was missing something obvious. Dew nodded, confused where she was going with this.

“He’s weak, but you don’t know why, far more malnourished than he should be, and not talking.” She made prompting hand gestures, but Dew had no idea what he was supposed to be catching onto.

“He’s also having nightmares?” He tried. “And he’ll only sleep if I’m here, otherwise he just stares at the ceiling.”

Mist let out an incredulous laugh.

“You really don’t get it?” She looked at Dew like he had grown a second head. “Aren’t you supposed to be half water ghoul?”

Flagging down one of the hovering quintessence ghouls, Mist sent her to fetch the whole team that had been trying to figure out what was wrong with Rain. Still in the dark about her apparent revelation, Dew couldn’t help but think they were about to be made to feel very, very stupid.

With the quintessence ghouls assembled, Mist levelled them with a condescending glare.

“What element is the ghoul you have been treating?” she asked them with a saccharine smile. The general murmur of water seemed to be good enough for her. “Exactly. And what should you not do to a sick ghoul?”

Feet shuffled, but no one dared answer.

“You don’t keep them away from their element,” Mist almost growled, “of course Rain isn’t getting any better, he’s dehydrated and needs water!”

The young ghoulette she had first spoken to turned and glanced at the sink, but didn't dare move.

“Now, as for why he is sick in the first place,” Mist started with a patronising tone, “who’s heard of Spring Tides?”

Astra and another ghoul raised their hands, but the others shrugged their shoulders. Mist sighed, like she was being burdened with explaining the most basic concepts to a room full of kits.

“Water ghouls’ strength is closely tied to the moon cycle,” she explained, “Spring tides happen when the moon is closest to Earth, and so we feel its power the strongest. That is, a full moon and a new moon.”

“It was a full moon the other night…” mused Dew.

“Well spotted Dewdrop,” the sarcasm in her tone rather spoiled the compliment thought Dew, “and two weeks before then it was a new moon. On the day after, our power is at its strongest, and the last two such days just so happened to coincide with Rain here losing control of his magic; and then regaining it.”

The quintessence ghouls scribbled notes, eagerly devouring this new information.

“It’s quite rare for a young ghoul’s power to appear so suddenly and violently,” Mist acknowledged, “but Rain was already a late bloomer in that regard by the sound of things, so it’s not surprising it was just building up until the dam burst. The new moon was likely a catalyst for it.”

“Why is he so weak now though?” asked Dew, talking over a quintessence ghoul with his hand raised politely. “It’s still close to the full moon, shouldn’t that mean he’s strong still?”

“Our energy ebbs and flows,” explained Mist, “we do not simply create it. Any additional power must come from somewhere, and in these instances, it comes afterwards as a period of intense exhaustion. For Rain, the sudden burst two weeks ago was probably enough to knock him flat while he was in jail, and then the full moon more recently allowed him to reconnect to his element but left drained him afterwards.”

“Is he going to be like this every few weeks?” Dew asked in a panic. He didn’t know if his heart could take seeing Rain this sick every time there was full or new moon.

“Not once you get him back in the water to recover,” Mist threw her arms in the air as she finally got to the crux of her explanation. “What he really needs is a good soak in the damn lake!”

Dew and the other infirmary ghouls nodded quickly.

“He was better on our journey than he is here,” mused Dew, “is that because it rained, and he was able to swim in the river?”

“Now you're starting to understand.”

“And then when his powers came back the other morning, we came straight here afterwards,” Dew thought out loud, “he’s not really seen water since.”

Mist nodded sagely.

“But what about the nightmares?”

“Dewdrop, he killed three people then was almost hanged by a mob of angry humans. Of course he’s having nightmares! You would be too if you’d been through what he has.”

‘Right.’ Thought Dew; that made sense.

“We’re taking him down to the lake now.” Mist announced. Seeing her start towards Rain on the bed, Dew leapt to help. Together, they struggled until Rain was sat upright. Huffing and puffing with exertion, they tried to pull him to his feet. However, with Rain’s armpits at the same height as – or higher than – the two shorter ghoul’s shoulders, this swiftly proved impossible.

“Why’s he so tall, Dewdrop,” panted Mist, letting Rain sink back to the bed, “couldn’t you have picked a shorter ghoul to mate with?”

“Not my mate.” Wheezed Dew.

“Sure,” Mist leaned on the bed, smirking, “in the same way Sunny and I aren’t. It’s only a matter of time.”

Dew felt his ears burning red again, and tried not to let himself get distracted thinking about the position he woke in this morning. If Rain hadn’t been sick and had actually been conscious, where could things have gone?

In the meantime, Mist had turned her icy blue eyes onto two tall quintessence ghouls. They leapt to attention, racing to sling Rain’s arms around their shoulders and follow Mist outside.

The small procession of ghouls made their way outside, traipsing along the paths of the Abbey gardens down towards the lake. Along the way, they passed Aether, Mountain and Swiss being led between sunlit greenhouses by an enthusiastic Sunshine. As though she sensed the presence of her partner, the multi ghoulette looked up. Waving frantically, she came running over with Dew’s packmates in hot pursuit.

“What’s happening?” Aether cried, skidding to a stop.

“We’re taking Rain to the lake.” Dew supplied, only raising more questions in the ghouls’ eyes.

“Somehow, none of you knuckleheads thought to try getting the water ghoul wet,” said Mist drily, “so we’re off to rectify that situation.”

Mountain silently swooped past them all, taking over and scooping Rain into his arms as he had when they arrived at the Abbey. He set off quickly in the direction they had been walking, Sunshine darting ahead to show him the way.

“How did none of us think of this until now?” Aether fretted, chasing alongside Mountain’s giant strides.

“Most of the water ghouls here arrived well into adulthood,” Mist reasoned, quiet enough that the quintessence ghouls hovering awkwardly where they had left them couldn’t hear, “what happened with Rain and his sudden flood of power is very rare at the best of times, and typically only happens when water ghouls first gain their full power. I’m not surprised they haven’t seen it before, but as healers they should have read about it.”

“Still, how did no one think to try putting him near his element?”

“You tell me,” she rolled her eyes, “I’m starting to think you all need a water ghoul biology lesson!”

Aether shrugged; it couldn’t hurt and would probably be interesting.

They reached the lake, and Dew was blown away by the size of it. Its dark, glassy surface stretched seemingly for miles, linking up to the river they had been following for days. Several wooden docks jutted out over the surface, worn smooth with years of use. The path led down to one such pier, the grass around it growing longer the closer it got to the water. The sunlight glimmered and sparkled so brightly on every minuscule wave that it almost hurt to look. As they got closer, Mountain ignoring his own comfort in favour of loping straight into the water with Rain, they saw that the water was almost entirely clear with every pebble at the bottom visible.

Mist waded in after him, taking a guiding hold of Rain as he started to float in Mountain’s arms.

“I’ve got him,” she said reassuringly, “he just needs to soak for a bit. Go and get Dew to dry you off.”

Mountain carefully lowered Rain further into the water, before wading back to shore and squelching over to the dock where Dew, Swiss, Aether and Sunshine were sat. He squeezed himself into a non-existent gap between Dew and Swiss; the fire ghoul shifting to give him room, before cranking up his heat to start drying off the wet earth ghoul.

Mist continued floating with Rain in the shallows, making sure he didn’t splash and startle himself as he started to regain consciousness. The others stared in wonder at how quickly the colour seemed to be flowing back into his cheeks, how his limp arms began to swirl sluggishly through the water as though experiencing the feeling for the first time. With Rain in safe hands, they allowed themselves to relax. The air was a little chilly compared to what they were used to, but the sun was warm on their faces.

The contented quiet made a nice change from the tense and worried silence of the last few days. Swiss was on the verge of falling asleep, leaned against Mountain's shoulder while the earth ghoul ostensibly held him to stop him falling off the dock. Dew was sat cross legged, watching the two water ghouls interact. His tail was trailed over the edge, just reaching the water's surface where it gently played with it. Mist looked over to them as Rain sculled his hands, independently keeping himself buoyant.

“If the Quints were here, I'd say ‘I told you so’.” she grinned.

“I take it we missed a lot in Water Ghouls 101?” Aether asked, in a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“Nothing you’d be expected to know,” Mist shrugged as she bobbed in the water, “Rain’s going to spend a lot of time down here, all the water ghouls do. It’s a miracle he survived living with you lot without a body of water like this.”

“He was always in the river next to our farm, I suppose.” Aether mused.

Mist nodded. “You want that biology lesson now? I’ll explain to you what I told Dew earlier.”

Aether and Mountain both eagerly agreed. Swiss snored, so Mountain nudged him gently to wake up: he wouldn’t want to miss this. Sunshine sat a few meters away, not wanting to intrude on the pack, but leaned forward in interest.

They listened closely as Mist explained lunar cycles and water ghouls’ connections to them. She briefly touched on how Rain’s apparent surge in power, followed by lack of water, the day they arrived at the Abbey had likely been the cause of his severe exhaustion. Mist moved on quickly however, not wanting to make any of them feel guilty for things they couldn’t have known.

“Would this really have made him cause all that damage?” Dew asked in disbelief. The amount of destruction Rain had apparently caused seemed beyond the power of the strongest ghoul, yet he had apparently caused it by accident?

“It depends, what was he trying to do at the time?” Mist asked.

“He was just going to water a field,” Mountain replied, “he was meant to pull some moisture up from the river into the soil, but he flooded over an acre and drowned three people!”

Mist winced, imagining the scene.

“He was under a lot of pressure,” Dew added quietly, “I made him feel like he had to do a perfect job.”

“That might explain it, yes.” Mist looked thoughtful, before noticing Dew’s guilt-ridded expression and drooping ears and attempting to lighten the mood. “After all, I’ve seen how you get when you’ve got big feelings Dewdrop, every candle in the room becomes twice as tall!”

He chuckled weakly.

“It’s an unfortunate combination of events,” Mist continued, “but Rain’s going to be fine. What he needs right now is water, and his pack.” She looked pointedly at Dew and winked.

“Do you think his need for water is why he’s been best around me?” Dew asked, thinking of his tenuous connection to water that Rain had previously identified, and ignoring her suggestive comment.

“It could be,” she hummed, floating pensively, “he’s probably just comfortable around you though – you don’t have as strong a connection to water as Swiss, since he’s a true Multi.”

“What d’you mean?” yawned Swiss, wriggling back upright. “Dew is a fire ghoul.”

Mist looked at Dew, letting him explain what she had noticed about him so quickly.

“Yeah, I’m fire, but my father was a water ghoul,” Dew shrugged, “my water element is practically non-existent though, only Mist and Rain have been able to smell it.”

The looks of shock on Dew’s packmates faces were testament to how unnoticeable his water element was, and how well he had hidden his past from them.

“Shouldn’t you be a multi ghoul like me then?” questioned Swiss, squinting at him as though if he looked hard enough, he would see Dew’s supposed water ghoul features.

“Do I need to explain multi ghouls to you too?” Mist asked, incredulous.

Dew could have kissed her, as his packmates stopped staring at him and turned back to look at Mist.

“We can’t all be book smart like you Mimi,” Sunshine laughed and turned to look at Swiss, “I’m pretty sure she understands my elements more than me!”

“Swiss would be correct, if we were in the Pit,” Mist started, pausing her distracted circling to tread water and face the others, “down there, His influence and magic are so strong that unborn kits have their elemental connections from both parents ‘activated’ as they grow. That’s how a multi ghoul is born in the Pit. Generations of mixing is what lead to the blend of all elements that you two have.”

Sunny sat politely hugging her knees, having heard this before, but Swiss stared at Mist open mouthed.

“We’re so far removed from His influence here on the surface, that kits can’t develop their magic in the same way,” she continued, “instead, they take the power from the strongest source around them, which is the ghoul who carries them. It’s like how humans’ babies are born with the same protection against diseases that their mothers have, because they pick it up in the womb. So, any ghoul born here on Earth has the same elemental makeup as the parent who birthed them. It means multi ghouls like Swiss and Sunny are practically a sixth element, as they can only be born from another Multi.”

“Your mother is a fire ghoul then?” Aether looked at Dew, who nodded.

“I didn’t know how it worked before though. I thought I was just fire because I only grew up with fire ghouls.”

“Nah, he’s got water in his bones,” Mist grinned, flicking water at him, “if you’re a water ghoul you can smell it on him. But he wasn’t exposed to water magic before he was born, so he’s only got a connection to fire.

This was fascinating information to them all, but none more so than Swiss and Dew. The former, finally understanding why his type was so rare on the surface, and the latter understanding his own confusing heritage. Dew absentmindedly wondered if his dormant water connection could explain his love for fish, that none of his birth clan had shared.

While they had sat listening attentively to Mist, Rain had been continuing to grow in strength and had floated off on his own. He felt empty; like he hadn’t eaten in days. He supposed that was possibly true. As Mountain had lowered him into the water, Rain had felt like a set of heavy velvet curtain around his mind had opened, allowing the midday sunlight to cascade in. The water around him felt alive, like it was flooding into his veins. He thought he remembered most of the events leading up to his most recent episode: he could recall the happy morning spent showing off to Dew and his pack, the final leg of the journey where he felt exhaustion creeping in. It had been like the tide, inching incrementally higher and higher, until it suddenly overtopped his mind upon reaching the Abbey, dousing him in a cold flood and pulling him under the surface.

Rain only half paid attention to what Mist was saying; he knew it was important, but that meant it could be repeated later. For now, he wanted to luxuriate in the feeling of clarity the cold water brought him. Floating on his back, he saw his packmates sat on a wooden pier. He smiled to see Swiss and Mountain’s closeness; maybe they had finally got somewhere while he was out of it in the infirmary? He wasn’t even sure how long it had been – it could have been two days or two weeks for all he knew.

Beside Mountain was the ghoul who really caught his attention, however. Dew sat with stress visible in every line of his body, and Rain desperately wanted to pull him into the buoyant embrace of the water until he was as relaxed and pliant as the liquid itself. Over the last week, he had come to realise that Dew was nothing like the brash and antagonistic fire ghoul he had thought he was, having seen a different side to him. Rain now saw that while Dew was well-practiced at keeping up a front of false bravado, underneath it lay a myriad of his own insecurities. The care he had shown to the water ghoul over the last week, aside from their few arguments, had made Rain feel special, loved even.

He wondered to himself if that care would continue now that he was out of danger. Would Dew continue to dote on him without the lingering guilt and fear to motivate him? Rain hoped so. He had enjoyed the time he spent with Dew, slowly pulling the fire ghoul out of his shell over the last few days of their journey north. He liked the softer side of Dew that had emerged; possibly a side only he had seen before, and that he secretly wanted to keep forever as his alone.

That thought had come out of nowhere for him; the idea of Dew being his. He had felt a similar pull before, the longing that had inspired his courtship of the dark-haired water ghoulette. This felt different though – both stronger and more dangerous. She had felt like the ending to a trite romance novel; an inevitable conclusion tied up neatly with a bow. Dew felt the type of inevitable that was two ancient stars orbiting ever closer, destined to collide in spectacular fashion. Where she had felt safe and predictable, Dew felt erratic and intangible in the most intoxicatingly alluring way.

Rain let himself sink under the water, afraid if he stared at Dew any longer that all of his inner thoughts would come pouring out. Through the crystal-clear water, he could see the spade of Dew’s tail lazily stirring hypnotizing circles. He watched it closely, entranced.

While the ghouls were talking, they lost sight of the silently floating Rain. Dew was the first to notice, sitting forward in alarm.

“Where did Rain go?” he asked, a tinge of panic in his voice. He couldn’t have drowned; that was almost impossible for a water ghoul, even one in a weakened condition. Frantically, he scanned the surface of the water, looking for any ripple or disturbance that might give away the water ghoul’s location.

Suddenly, Dew felt something brush against the spade of his tail, still trailing through the water. He screamed, a high pitched noise that hurt the others’ ears, and clutched the edge of the dock to keep himself from falling in. Peering into the water, he tentatively looked for the culprit. Staring back at him in the shadow of the pier was Rain; horns glowing brightly and mischievous blue eyes locked with his, full of light and life.

[jon-snows-man-bun]

They were riding Iona’s land, something she spent at least two full days a month doing.

It involved picking a direction and riding that way, completing a multi-hour circuitous route that seemed to be determined only by Iona’s instinct. Teg, the hound, often joined them on these. Iona led them through villages as often as she went through fields, jumping muddy ditches and five bar gates with abandon. She spoke with everyone she came across, if they were willing to speak to her; she accepted every offer for a drink. She knew the land very well and seemed to watch it closely for changes.

Tamlin had started coming with her. His first ride he didn’t say a word, and she didn’t try to speak to him. He merely followed her like Teg, though he killed fewer rabbits.

He learned plenty of tidbits of information this way, though most of it was entirely useless to him. Once she made him ride with her several hours to a village on her southern border, not too far from his own estate, just to look at some pigs. She had chatted with the farmer at length, discussing breeding and market value; it ended when Iona slid off two of her silver bracelets to pay for several pigs to be delivered back to Nine Elms in a week’s time. The farmer suggested supplementing their diet with acorns from Autumn to flavour the meat. Iona said she would try to resume import, careful to avoid a promise.

“I didn’t know you were well-versed in pigs,” Tamlin had said on their ride back, his first words to her that day. His throat hurt suddenly, as if from the effort.

Iona pretended not to notice. She smiled, and said “I like animals. Better than people, usually.”

Now, several months and at least a dozen of these rides later, she was examining a section of collapsed dry stone wall. Her roan mare stood with one leg cocked, used to these rambling, cross-country voyages with frequent stops. He was now as well; used to her strange mix of impulsivity and duty.

She had led them there via a stone bridge over Cutter’s Brook, checking the level of the water as they crossed, cautious of a drought developing. After stopping to speak with two lesser fae hedgelayers who had been gathering long hazel rods in the woods, she took a sudden right turn into the forest, into what looked like a solid wall of brambles but she insisted used to be a hunter’s path. Tamlin had just plowed in after her, ignoring the brambles that snagged and tore at him. Half of Iona’s dark braid had come loose, trailing down the green tunic she wore.

“Part of this fence has fallen, the sheep will get loose soon,” Iona remarked. She was studying it intensely, then looking at the sheep. Tamlin tried to see what she saw: perhaps the condition of the footing, the exposure to sun and shade, the state of the sheep.

She mulled it over, looking for something. “Have they lambed early this turn?” She finally asked, turning to face him.

She frequently did this - asking for his opinion or guidance on some matter. He looked at the sheep, trying to remember; when did it normally occur? There was much he had forgotten. Then again, he was never particularly interested in sheep in the first place.

“I think we should speak to the crofter,” she decided, and put her heels to her horse, neatly giving herself a run-up before they jumped the stone wall. Teg plunged through the collapsed gap gleefully. Tamlin followed, cantering along behind her as she skirted the edge of the herd, approaching a low stone croft perched on the top of the hill.

Iona called out as they approached; drawing up and dismounting. She handed him the reins of her mare to hold, striding off to knock on the door.

Tamlin waited outside, as he always did. He couldn’t remember how to behave on these outings, how to interact. Iona didn’t seem to care that he talked about as much as her horse, so he kept joining her.

He studied the landscape as he waited for her. The hill rolled away before him, giving him a nice view down the slopes to the farms that lay beyond, all hemmed in neatly by ancient stone walls and hedgerows. The woods lurked beyond that, swallowing up valleys and dales, rolling away into the distance. This land was old, and bore its most recent scars like growth rings on a tree.

Tamlin breathed deeply, closing his eyes for a moment in the sun. He could hear the sheep, faintly; the wind and the birds. Those were good sounds, Spring sounds.

Iona re-emerged, swinging herself back up into the saddle as he held her mare for her, waiting for him to mount his own. She told him the problem as they rode away.

“Their son joined to fight Hybern in the battle and didn’t come home. The crofter himself is too old to stack the stone walls, it used to be his son’s job. He and his wife are busy lambing - which came early this turn, I was right, so they were caught unprepared. He’s struggling without the help of his son.” She fell silent, mulling it over as they rode; the only sound their horses’ hooves and the birds around them. The wind eased through the long grass on either side of the road, bending and swirling it like water.

They clattered through the gate and down the stone lane to the village. She spoke with a few more fae about nothing and everything: admiring a spotted calf, commenting on the rebuilding of the village school, hearing some complaints of naga in the woods they had come from. Villagers greeted him nervously but they were offered tea regardless, and they drank it on the village green. Iona absently coaxed up a clump of daffodils into a bloom, content to sit with him in silence.

As they left the village heading north, Iona paused to admire a meadow carpeted with birdseye. Some spirit seemed to descend on her and her horse leapt forward, galloping across the meadow at full pelt with no word of warning to him. Tamlin scowled and took off after her, Teg giving joyful pursuit with him. When he caught up to her on the other side of the meadow at the tree line, she laughed.

[steveskafte]

BETTER SANCTUARY Something about fog and history always seemed well-matched to me. Just like time, it casts a veil between what is truth, and what we perceive it to be. These old roadside churches always draw me, set on sudden curves and shoulders, often in need of a new coat of paint. Some haven't seen weekly services in a decade, some sitting sleepy longer than a half-century. The other day, I ran into a elderly man while I was hiking out of the woods. He drove by in his truck, and started telling me about an old homestead foundation I should look for in the woods, and the family that once lived there. Then, he changed the subject to talk about old churches. "There's one where I'm from that's been filled up with a bunch of Mexicans," he said, referring to the migrant workers a local farmer brought in to help with harvest. "I'd rather they just tore it down than use it like that." A fate worse than death, it seems. This is a re-purposing that's certainly not new to me. Temporary housing is hard to come by, and there's an old church in my area that's now used for some seasonal workers from Jamaica. "There were people baptized, married, died there," he went on, "It's just a disgrace." I nodded politely, because the sun was sinking and I didn't have the time or inclination to argue. But as for me, I think that any use for an old building is all that matters. For the lowest folks you'll ever meet, roaming the lonely world to feed their families back home, what could be better sanctuary? We forget so quickly how most of our ancestors were once the scum of the earth. We look back and promise that we wouldn't force newcomers to endure the same struggles, but there's always a new and different kind of people for us to turn against. Even though my family is full of relatives from Denmark and The Netherlands, come to Canada as blue-collar workers with little to offer but muscle and sweat – they too turned against the new waves in their later years. This particular brand of poor foreigners were different somehow, didn't love or believe in all the right ways like we did. But we still let them farm our fields and earn us money, and no one can say that they don't work hard for the pleasure. As a lifelong son of this province, I think the dumbest thing I ever hear out of a Nova Scotian's mouth is the phrase: "Come From Away". We say it like we're surprised that folks would move here, and maybe even a little bothered by it. There's a lot of jealousy about what buildings they buy and how they treat them, even if it's an abandoned structure finally renovated, that us locals let rot for decades. I don't believe in coining a special expression for outsiders, and maybe that's because I'm part of the first generation born here. Never felt right to have a term of separation between me and all those who made me. We're never the first, not nearly the last, but born to a long line of folks believing that they were the best of both. It comes back to the veil of time, keeping now safely separate from then. There's a murky gulf we'll never bridge, like misty visions rushing by a car window, spotted once as a child and never again. Where and when was that, anyway? The map in our mind is filled with disconnected constellations, random twinkling stars that make a picture we're resistant to see. Can't say why I'm always looking back, if only because it has a way of making me more aware of when I am. Cold and real like the slushy snow this evening, warm and dreamlike as the orange beech leaves still lingering till spring. Something about fog and history. February 10, 2023 Milford, Nova Scotia Year 16, Day 5570 of my daily journal.

[stained-glasswriting]

Sweet Kitty

Hybrid!Park Jimin X Reader

Word count: 4.5k

AN: ok guys this ones gonna be a little bit of a slowburn. The classic reader finds a hybrid and takes them home. I hope you like!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had already been a long day when you got distracted while dragging yourself home. Your day started with your only 8 am class of the week, you were late of course, keeping you from your daily caffeine dose. It all got worse when you left your college campus for the diner you worked at. Immediately upon entrance, you were bowled over by a coworker practically begging you to take the last three hours of her shift. Agreeing to take the shift from her, you set about getting ready for that was now a closing shift.

Of course by the time you flick off the lights and lock the door, it was dark and started to drizzle. Pulling your jacket tighter around yourself, you step out into the street, starting the 5 block trek to your apartment.

The first thing that caught your attention as you neared your home, was a quiet whimpering. Quickly you stop in your tracks, looking around the damp area. For a moment the darkened street was silent, before a barely audible whine came from a dark expanse of alley jutting from the street to your left.

Staying in the entrance of the alley you peer in looking for the creature making the noises. In the dim lighting you could make out the sight of a pair of dumpsters surrounded by trash, sitting a few feet from a brick wall dead end. In front of them laid what looked like a pile of cardboard boxes. One of the boxes had something dark dangling out of it. At first you couldn't see anything that could be making that noise.

Another whimper had you taking a couple steps towards the wet boxes in front of you.

“Hello?” you called out into the dark tentatively. There was no response, but the quiet whimpers started up again.

You shoot a glance back out into the street considering your options. Going wandering down dark alleys in the middle of the night was a bad idea, but what if someone was hurt.

Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you slowly pick your way down the alleyway following the noises. All of your senses on red alert, you had to be careful. As you neared the boxes, you quickly realized that a dirty cat tail was hanging limply out of one of them. The stiffness in your shoulders leaks out as the realization that it's probably an animal that needs help.

Crouching, you peek into the dirty damp cardboard, fully expecting to see a kitty curled up in it. Instead you end up coming face to face with a hybrid.

You slap your hand over your mouth, effectively cutting off any noise you were about to make in surprise. Hybrids aren't exceptionally rare, but really only well off families could afford them. There weren't a lot of them just wandering the streets so this was unusual.

This one didn't exactly look like he’d come from a nice house though, or at least hadn’t been in one for a while. His clothes were dirty and appeared threadbare in places. They had run ragged around his wrists and ankles. Blood dripped down from his shoulder and down his arm staining the fabric a dark red. A long matted tail hung out from underneath where he was laying on the cardboard.

Your eyes trailed up the man’s skinny figure, up to his thin face. A fairly large cut was opened above his eyebrow, slowly weeping blood down his overly pronounced cheekbones. The cat hybrid’s eyes were closed but fluttered lightly as he made small noises in the back of his throat. His dirt covered ears pinned back in what you assumed to be pain.

Through all the dirt, blood, and obvious malnutrition, he looked small and almost soft. Honestly, how could anyone do this to him? It took all of two seconds to make your mind up to help him. You gave the hybrid a long moment of consideration, before you took the last few steps to reach the boxes. Leaning near you lightly touched his shoulder.

The effect was instantaneous. His body flinched away from you violently. The hybrid’s ears flipped forward to face you then immediately laid flat back again. His eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide with fear, they seemed unfocused, and whipped around wildly looking for danger. Another heart wrenching whine was released from his throat.

Pulling back you murmur soft comforting phrases, trying to assure the terrified hybrid. His nostrils flare as he takes a deep shuddering breath. The cat hybrid’s eyes finally seem to focus on you, scouring your face in an instant.

After a moment of staring between you, he seems to come to some sort of decision. He slides his eyes closed once more, and bends his head towards you seemingly resigned to allowing you to do as you wish. He’d seem almost calm if it weren't for the shaking of his form, and the ragged breaths that tore up his throat.

It’s cold out, and his injuries needed to be tended to. If you left him here, he wouldn't last much longer, you’d have to bring him home with you.

“Alright, come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” you whispered to him, trying to keep the tremble out of your voice. You reach for his arm again, this time gently grabbing it. Your fingers wrap all the way around the thin limb.

Lightly you start pulling him out of the wet cardboard. You were afraid that he might resist or lash out at you, but he didn’t seem to have any fight left in him. He just sort of resigned himself to whatever you were intending to do with him.

You were able to pull the hybrid into sort of a crouching position. Several of the movements caused deeper, more draw out whines to escape him. The hybrid didn’t stop you while you placed your other hand on his elbow, pulling him into an upright position. The hybrid leaned on you heavily, his legs wobbling as you held him up.

The first couple of steps were difficult, and shaky as you murmured encouragement and praises to the man. He limped heavily to one side showing you there was something wrong with the leg. After about a minute he seemed a little more inclined to help, and didn’t weigh on you quite as heavily.

It took some time, but eventually you were able to get the hybrid to the front steps of your apartment building, and inside.

The light of the lobby showed just how much blood and dirt covered the man, and his clothes. Some of it had started to dry and harden to him. Other spots still oozed the thick red fluid. Underneath it all you could now see just how pale and exhausted he looked.

Thankfully it was late enough that the secretary for the building had left for the night leaving the lobby empty. This allowed you to avoid any strange conversations as you pulled the hybrid past the front desk and to the elevators behind it. Without setting the man down, you hit the button with your elbow.

You're lucky once more, with how late it is the elevator only took a couple of moments before opening with a ding. It wasn’t hard to pull him into the contraption, but as you stop to hit the button for your floor, you could feel him start to shake harder.

“We are almost there.” you assure the hybrid trying to calm him some.

A few minutes later you’re pulling the partially unresponsive hybrid into your two bedroom apartment. Bypassing your living room and kitchen, you drag him down the hallway into our bathroom. Carefully you settle him down on the floor, and lean him against the tub wall.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” You told him, and spun on our heel leaving in search of the first aid kit you kept in the hallway closet. While in there you also snagged a couple of extra towels and a whole box of Band-Aids.

By the time you make it back to the bathroom, the hybrid appears a little more conscious. He was sitting a bit straighter, his tail clutched between his hands as he messed with the fur. His eyes wide with fear blinked up at you when the door opened.

“I’m just here to help, I promise,” you reassured the hybrid gently. Slowly you crouch in front of him trying to get a better view of his forehead. You could tell it was still sort of bleeding, but with all the dirt and dried blood it was difficult to tell where the cut started. You’d likely have to get him cleaned up before you could do anything meaningful about his wounds. He flinched violently when you carefully pressed a clean cloth on the wound, but didn’t move otherwise. After a few minutes you’re at least able to get the bleeding to stop.

Tearing your eyes from his injured forehead, you glance down, locking eyes with the man. He studied your face with an intensity that made you squirm slightly. You could tell he was sort of sizing you up. It was as if he expected you to do something, and was ready for whatever it was.

“Well, it’ll be difficult to do anything about your injuries till we get you cleaned up. Do you want to take a shower?” you asked the hybrid in front you.

His body jerked in surprise, his eyes somehow widening even further, apparently that was not what he had been expecting of you. He refused to speak but did respond with a stilted nod that left him wincing in pain.

Pushing yourself up, you cross to the front of the tub. He listens intently as you explain the different knobs, and what soaps to use.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask, lightly helping the man into a standing position. He quickly shook his head in response.

“I’ll bring you some fresh clothes.” you told him as you started towards the door. Warm fingers snaked around your wrist lightly. He pulled enough to stop you without actually pulling you back. This time when you turned to look at him, he kept his eyes firmly on the floor.

“Thank you.” he said quietly, his voice raspy almost like it was overused.

“Of course!” You immediately exclaimed with a nod. The hybrid looked up just in time to see a sweet smile come across your face. He released your hand then, allowing you to finally leave your bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing you did was change out of your now dirty work clothes, and into some comfortable pajamas. Looking through your closet, you pulled out some basketball shorts your ex left, and an oversized t-shirt. With a pair of scissors you cut hole in the back of them around where the hybrid’s spine would end for his tail. After a second thought, you grabbed a sweatshirt you wore often. It was your largest, even though he wasn’t much taller than you and was basically just skin and bones, you thought he deserved something soft and comfortable.

Carefully you slid the bathroom door open just enough to shove the clothes in. some steam escaped, showing just how hot he had the water at.

Your next task was getting some food into the poor boy. He looked so skinny, you should go with something that wouldn’t be too heavy on his stomach. Flitting around the kitchen, you get some soup started on the stove. It was just a simple chicken noodle soup recipe. Chicken, noodles, stock, and some vegetables you had chopped up originally for stir fry all went into the pot. Humming you bounced between the stove, and setting two places at the table.

Lost in your own world, you missed the sound of the shower turning off, then later the sound of the door opening. You got quite the fright when you turned, silverware in hand, and a now clean hybrid was standing in front of you wearing the shorts and shirt you left him staring at you.

A startled squeak slipped past your lips when you jumped. At the noise the man’s ears pinned back, and his eyes dropped back to the floor.

“It’s ok, you just startled me.” you reassured him, hands raised. “Are you hungry?” he responded with a short single nod. With a happy smile you went back to setting the table, and finishing the soup.

Before long, you were ladling the hot liquid into two bowls you put on the tale. Carefully you place the pot onto the pad in the middle of the table, and sit at one end looking expectantly up at the hybrid. He still stood in the doorway, head down, but now his tail sat in his hands as he carded his fingers through the fur. The sweatshirt you left him was slung over his shoulder.

After the shower, his fur proved to be much fluffier than you had expected. It was a lovely light tan that turned almost cream color in some spots without all that dirt covering it. Unfortunately there still appeared to be some tangles among the fluff, but those could be brushed out later.

“Aren't you going to sit down and have some?” you asked, confused as to why he continued to stand there,

“Sit… at the table?” his head snapped up to stare at you as the words tumbled from his open mouth. In his seemingly shocked state you were able to finally get a good look at his face now washed.

The hybrid was pale, and his cheeks sunken in from malnutrition. The wound over his eyebrow had stopped bleeding but the area around it was all red and angry. You could tell he’d been on the street for a while, and was exhausted if the circles underneath his eyes were anything to go by.

Despite all of this, the male across from you was handsome. He had nice full lips and high cheekbones underneath wide brown eyes, his hair, now clean, was a lovely light blonde color. Although it was shaggy, a little tangled, and definitely in need of a cut. Then at the top of his head stood a pair of fluffy ears with the same coloration as his tail.

After a long moment of staring between the two of you, he limped over and pulled out the chair opposite of you, and hesitantly sat down in it. He glanced up at you again, maybe waiting for you to start. With another reassuring smile, you grab your spoon and dig in. Once the first spoonful hit your mouth, he snatched up his spoon and started in on his food too.

The first couple of spoonfuls he started slow, but after that he tucked in with much more gusto. He made happy little noises as he dug into the hot broth. It took him only minutes to finish off the bowl, even tipping it back to get the rest of the liquid. His ears drooped slightly as he sat back and looked into his empty bowl forlornly.

“If you’re still hungry, have some more, there’s plenty.” you told him with a giggle, gesturing to the pot.

“N-no, I’m alright.” he stuttered out. The strange flick his tail did, and the look in his eyes told you differently.

“It’s ok, there’s plenty,” you responded, standing to ladle more into his bowl. This time he wasted no time tucking in and scarfing it down.

“So, my name is (Y/N), what’s yours?” you asked politely. You thought it was about time that you learned something about what was going on.

“My name?” he pondered for a moment before answering. “I’m Park Jimin,” he gave a short bow from his seat with the response.

“Park Jimin,” you repeated thoughtfully. “I like it!” you decided with a smile.

A beautiful smile lit up his face the moment the words left your mouth. His thick lips pulled back in a sweet smile that showed his teeth, and turned his eyes into little crescent moons. A light dusting of pink settled onto Jimin’s cheeks as he ducked his head and went back to his soup.

The moment you saw Park Jimin’s smile you knew you were a goner. With the appearance of that smile came the realization that you’d do just about anything to keep it on his face.

You observe him quietly while you finish your own bowl, Jimin however had another two. He looked up gratefully at you when ladled more into his bowl each time, his tail flicking back and forth. Around the middle of his fourth bowl, both his tail and his eyelids had started to droop. The hybrid looked sleepier and sleepier as time went on, but you wanted to deal with his wounds before you settle him in for the night.

Trying not to startle him, you stood slowly, gathering the dirty dishes from the table. When Jimin noticed you cleaning up, he hopped out of his seat and snatched his own dishes off the table before you could grab them too. With big eyes, he stood looking at you, waiting for you to make a move. He followed you like a shadow into the kitchen, immediately placing his dishes next to the sink with your own.

The hybrid then ignores your movement to return to the bathroom, and instead turns to the sink turning it on.

“Leave that for now, I’ll take care of it later.” You tell him turning the sink back off, holding your hand out to him.

Jimin’s ears go back again as he stares at you in confusion.

“You- I-?” he sputtered for a moment, eyes flicking between your face and your hand. “Shouldn’t I do it?” He finishes lightly placing his hand in yours.

“I’m a big girl, I can wash my own dishes,” you giggle, gently pulling him back to the bathroom. A look of utter confusion passed over his face, but he allowed you to tug him along.

You walked him back to the bathroom, taking care to go slowly so he could limp along without too much trouble.

Once there , you settle Jimin down on the edge of the tub, and open up the first aid kit. Flipping the lid open, you pull out a spray antiseptic.

“This is gonna sting a little.” you warned as you pushed back the tan strands of hair that flopped over his forehead as they dried. Now clean the cut above his eyebrow looked a bit smaller, and the edges looked clean like it had been done with something very sharp.

Carefully you sprayed the antiseptic over the slash mark, making Jimin wince as he gasped sharply.

“Sorry… Sorry,” you whisper, pulling a piece of gauze out of the kit on the counter, you lightly press the gauze to his forehead with one hand, using the other to attach it with medical tape. Once it seems secure, you take a step back to admire your work.

Jimin stared up at you with curious eyes, sleepiness seemingly entirely forgotten for the time being.

“Alright, now for the shoulder, shirt off.” you said with a gesture to the piece of clothing.

The hybrid stared at you for a long long moment, seeming to study you. It took a little for you to even realize why.

“Oh, I mean only if you’re comfortable…” you tried to back track. The tell tale feeling of warmth of a blush flooding your cheeks.

He then gave you a small nod, and began pulling the shirt over his head, wincing as he moved his shoulder up.

A gasp passed your lips as the true extent of the damage done to Jimin’s body was revealed. His malnutrition was even more obvious with the sight of his clearly visible ribs, the skin clung tightly to each one all the way down to his stomach slightly distended with the weight of the meal he’d just had. His hip and collar bones stuck out sharply showing once more how long it had been since he had a good one.

Bruises of various states of healing dotted up and down his emaciated form. Scars joined the mixture here and there across the expanse of pale skin some more healed than others.

Tearing your eyes from the hybrid’s chest, you moved to take a look at his battered arms. They were also dotted with bruises, but at the top of his arm and around his shoulder was a large patch of marred skin. It looked like he’d likely skidded across the ground on it. You could see bits of gravel still embedded in the skin, some parts still damp with spots of blood, others had already started to scab over. Lightly you pulled on his arm to turn his body to give you more access. This also gives you a view of his back.

“Oh, honey…” you breathed out in shock, nausea rose in you as your eye’s raked down his pale skin. His back was somehow even more mutilated than the rest of him. Thin, ropey scars crisscross across it in no apparent pattern. Thankfully even the newest ones looked mostly scarred over, like it had been a while since he’d gotten them.

Before you could think, you lightly dragged a finger down a raised line of skin. Jimin released a shuddered breath causing you to jerk back away from the injuries.

“I was bad a lot.” he whispered without turning to look at you. For a moment you stared dumbly at the back of his head before you realized what he meant.

“What? You meant these are punishments?” you asked shocked.

The cat hybrid didn’t respond at first, his breath rattled through his chest. It took a moment but eventually he gave a stiff nod. Suddenly his behavior through the night started to make sense. You didn’t know how much abusive bullshit they filled his head with.

“Oh Jimin, you don’t deserve anything like this.” you told him, tears starting to form in your eyes. Hesitantly you reach for him shaking, but you stop, hands hovering over his skin. Faint warmth radiated off as you looked over the expanse of marred skin on his back. Honestly you couldn’t tell if the hybrid was shaking more or if you were.

A loud sniffle escapes you, as you rub away a couple of tears tracking their way down your face. Jimin’s ears flick back towards you at the noise, and he whirls around to look at you.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly over eyes that studied you again with an intensity that had you dropping your hands into your lap. Jimin’s eyes search your face, following the tracks left by your tears. After a moment he broke your impromptu staring contest, drooping as he turned his face to the side.

“ Why are you crying?” he asks, not looking at you. His voice then gets really small. “I was naughty, it was my punishment.” The hybrid’s tan tail stays low but swishes side to side fast behind him.

“No no no, you don’t deserve this.” You move to reassure him, kneeling down on the floor in front of Jimin. He notices this, looking down at you as you sit and continue on, “ nothing you could ever do, would make it ok for them to do that to you.” By the end of your sentence your voice had started to waver. Jimin was fully looking at you by this point, mouth dropped open in shock.

It’s only a moment before his face crumples into tears. Quickly you pull the cat hybrid off of the tub rim, and into your arms. He startles, stiffening at first, before melting into your arms. His body trembles hard in your arms as he buries his face in your neck. You start rubbing his back slowly trying to calm him.

It took a while to get him to stop shaking, and even longer for his sniffles to slow. Pulling away carefully as his breathing calms, you raise a hand to wipe at the tear tracks covering his face as well now. Jimin just blinks slowly at you, pure exhaustion written all over his face. It’s definitely time to get him cleaned up and in bed.

“Come on, up.” you tell him, pulling him up as you stand. The hybrid’s eyes and tail are clearly drooping in sleepiness when you settle him back on the tub side. “I’ll finish cleaning you up. Then we can go to bed.”

Carefully you patch up both his shoulder and several large slices around his leg. All of the cuts appeared to be done with a knife like his face had. The questions you had about them could wait at least the night, while Jimin’s emotions were obviously still raw.

By the time you finish, he is clearly nodding off, jerking himself awake every few moments. When you move back to put your first aid stuff in the box, the hybrid’s big brown eyes blink blurrily up at you. His left hand raised to rub at his still somewhat red and blotchy face. Grabbing his hand, you pull him into a standing position, and help him put his shirt back on without messing with his wrapping too much.

“Alright, I have a guest bedroom that is all yours for the night.” you tell him, gently pulling him from the bathroom. In the same hallway were two doors, one being your room which you pointed out to him, the other being the guest room you were leading him to.

Opening the door, you help him hobble inside, holding onto his uninjured arm. You deposit him on the bed, and help him under the covers. Reaching over to a little side table situated next to the bed, you flick in a small lamp sitting on top. The dim light shows a sparsely decorated room.

The walls of the room were a pretty light blue color, but other than the bed and the table. The only furniture in the room was a dresser. A closet juts out into the room next to the entrance, a pair of large full body mirrors work as the sliding doors to it. Honestly the room was mostly set up for when your brother came into town, which you’re thankful for now.

Once Jimin was settled into bed, eyelids already falling, you straighten up, leaving the dim light on just in case. You sneak out of the room, leaving the door cracked, to let the exhausted hybrid sleep.

Quietly you go about cleaning up the remnants of your dinner. After taking care of the dishes, you turn in for the night as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AN: alright guys let me know what you think. And if you want another chapter!

[vrishchikawrites]

Reverse transmigration wangxian where LWJ who cultivates to immortality found an old summoning array where mxy fails to summon wwx but the whole thing with JGY still got revealed. LWJ in his grief summons WWX in our modern world, and the rest is up to you :) Maybe get WWX some therapy and loving family and how different modern days people are

This one is a bit angsty and has vague descriptions of sex. Modern AU.

“The Tragedy of Wei Wuxian - The Man Behind the Legend”

Lan Wangji caresses the title of the book with a thumb, eyes tracing a name he has always held close to heart but hasn’t heard for a long time.

“We all know of Wei Ying, courtesy Wuxian as Yiling Laozu. He’s one of the first to cultivate successfully with ‘resentful’ energy. His theories and papers helped us develop a greater understanding of yin energy, Qi deviation, and resentful spirits. He was a visionary, a man ahead of his time, someone who thought outside the box and looked for solutions instead of sticking to the norm. He’s also the first known person to donate his Golden Core.”

Wangji looks away for a moment, remembering Wen Ning’s snarling face and Jiang Wanyin’s rage, denial, and guilt.

“But we don’t talk about what brought that great visionary down. Society, as it did with many great thinkers, turned against him. In his youth, Wei Wuxian was one of the most accomplished cultivators of his generation. No one knows exactly what happened for him to develop the so-called ‘Ghostly Path’. His loss of the Golden Core may have been a factor, but the actual circumstances are shrouded in mystery.

What follows after the War of the Five Great Clans, known as the Sunshot Campaign, is nothing short of a tragedy. Wei Wuxian saw injustice happening and decided to fight against it. Society tore him up for it. At that time, all actions against him were justified and considered righteous. Those actions don’t stand up to scrutiny under the modern lens. Like all great and radical thinkers, Wei Wuxian ideals made him the enemy and that led to this tragic death, along with the murder of innocent war prisoners he sought to protect. There are unconfirmed reports of there being a child among the Wens.”

Wangji’s eyes flicker over to a picture frame sitting on his desk, an image of Sizhui and Jingyi smiling up at him through the glossy image. They’re well, he knows. Last he heard from them, they were in South Korea and having a great time.

Sizhui must not know of this book or he would’ve called immediately, always so concerned about his a’die.

“It was later revealed that hunger for power and political maneuvering led to his death. When we study the historical records, it is obvious that the man was pushed into the corner and was forced to retaliate. Unfortunately, no one cared about his fate-”

“I did,” Wangji whispered to himself, thinking back on silver eyes in an indistinct face. He loved - still loves Wei Ying - but the physical aspects of him have long since faded from his memory. He sometimes remembers Wei Ying’s laugh. Sometimes, he dreams of his smile. He doesn’t recall what Wei Ying sounded like, only remembering his tone when he said ‘Lan Zhan.’

And yet, Lan Wangji hasn’t forgotten love.

He reads the book in silence, going through all 375 pages of it without pausing to eat or sleep. It tells the story of Wei Ying in stark, blunt terms. There are a few facts missing or erroneous. He wasn’t the adopted child of the Jiangs. There was certainly no unrequited love between Wei Wuxian and Jiang Yanli.

There’s very little mention of him. According to this book, Lan Wangji is a mere footnote in Wei Wuxian’s life; a childhood acquaintance, a disapproving comrade, and later a man who unraveled the truth because he pursued justice.

“He was just 23 years old when he died,” Wangji lingers over that statement, “23-year-olds are barely adults. They hold the promise of a bright future. They have so much potential inside of them. At 23, some people graduate from college, some take up their first serious job. At 23, young people fall in love and maybe form a life-long bond. Wei Wuxian became a key player in a big conflict at 17, he donated his core at 17. At 17, we still have children in high school. Our seventeen-year-olds aren’t even allowed to drink or drive. Our seventeen-year-olds are still protected and sheltered by their parents.

That is perhaps the biggest tragedy of Wei Wuxian’s life. He was only allowed to live a carefree life for seven years, from the day he was taken off the streets to the day the YunmengJiang Sect was attacked. After that and until his death, his life was marked by war, strife, betrayal, and persecution.

A visionary, a hero, a brilliant mind, dead by what most would consider suicide.” Wangji’s breath hitches and he takes a moment to collect himself, the sentence ringing in his head.

“He deserved better.”

---

He deserved better, Wangji thinks as he walks sedately towards his library.

There had been a glimmer of hope, all those years ago when Mo Xuanyu attempted to resurrect Wei Ying, but when he failed to do so, Wangji felt something shatter in him.

Whatever Wei Ying had done had completely destroyed his soul. His precious, noble soul. One that was formed for justice and kindness.

He deserved better.

He knows what he must do.

---

An immortal’s Golden Core has immeasurable power. It is the result of several hundred years of Cultivation and diligence. Wangji is more powerful than most, having survived through war, strife, grief, and loss.

An immortal’s Golden Core can also be an ingredient.

‘Draw the talismans shown below in the blood of your heart. Pin them in eight directions, north, northwest, west, southwest, south, southeast, east, and northeast. Sit in the exact center of this circle and sacrifice half of your cultivation to the being you wish to summon.’’

Wangji’s heart and hands are steady as he draws the talismans from blood drawn directly from the artery. He pins them in all eight directions and sits down in the middle, his hands moving elegantly to summon his Qi. He breathes in and breathes out, sinking into meditation with habitual ease.

It will work.

It has to.

The room floods with Resentful Energy.

---

He deserves better.

Wangji feels torn apart in ways he has never experienced before. The ritual summoning carves something out of his chest and drags it away. His mouth floods with blood and his body weakens alarmingly.

But it doesn’t matter.

Wei Ying.

---

Wei Ying is more beautiful than Wangji remembers. He is bloodsoaked, covered in cuts and bruises, saturated with Resentful Energy, but he’s alive.

And he’s beautiful.

Wangji stumbles to his feet, shakily walking into the bathroom to fetch some warm water. He walks back, his arms feeling the weight of the bucket like they have never carried such weight before. With every step that he takes towards Wei Ying, his heartbeat spikes up a little. He doesn’t know if he chose the right time. He doesn’t know if Wei Ying’s spirit had shattered before his death and dying had just been the aftermath.

Maybe Wei Ying’s body is here and not his soul.

Wangji cannot bear thinking about it.

With weak, shaking hands and the taste of blood lingering in his mouth, he slowly reaches forward. Layer by layer, he removes Wei Ying’s clothes, his fingertips tingling because his beloved’s body is warm.

He deserves better.

With aching tenderness, he wipes Wei Ying clean, removes all blood, grime, and mud from his body.

Wei Ying doesn’t stir.

---

There’s a gentle touch against his cheek. It is strange enough to wake him up because few people dare touch Lan Wangji. Slender fingers tap once, twice, almost playfully and Wangji knows who it is even before he opens his eyes.

Like a sun emerging from the horizon, Wei Ying appears before him, his smile bright and questioning.

“Wei Ying,” He breathes and Wei Ying nods, eyes a sparkling silver. There is so much beauty in that face that he can’t help but reach forward. Ignoring Wei Ying’s surprise, he cups his face and leans forward pressing his forehead against his beloved’s.

Wei Ying is still for a long moment, but he moves eventually, setting hands on Wangji’s shoulder. He doesn’t push him away, just huffing in soft amusement.

“Wei Ying,” He whispers, closing his stinging eyes, “Forgive Wangji for his selfishness.” He says, “I summoned you.” I summoned you without asking, knowing you wouldn’t desire it.

Wei Ying huffs again and that’s when it strikes him.

He pulls back and looks at his beloved in concern, scanning his eyes, face, neck, and chest quickly, his heart racing.

Why wasn’t Wei Ying speaking?

---

“You’re right in suspecting that his spirit sustained some sort of injury even before he was… killed.” Lan Jingyi says softly, pulling away from the sleeping Wei Ying, “There’s nothing physically wrong with him, Hanguang-jun, please don’t worry! His spirit just needs a little bit of time to recover.”

Wangji nods gratefully as he watches Sizhui lean over Wei Ying, his expression full of wonder and desperate happiness. As Sizhui’s cultivation grew, he started remembering more things from his childhood. They have never spoken on the matter of Wei Ying, but Wangji knows his son remembers more than he did when he was a child.

“Now, please let me check you.”

He levels a sharp look at the younger man but Lan Jingyi is no longer the adoring and naive student Wangji taught all those years ago. He’s a strong, accomplished cultivator and an avid researcher.

Lan Jingyi ignores him cheerfully and checks his core, stepping into Wangji's personal space without a care.

He narrows his eyes at the steely glint in the boy's eyes.

"I know you love him, Hanguang-jun," Lan Jingyi says, "And love is worth a life." They're immortals, life has little meaning for people who have lived for centuries, "But I wonder if the Wei Wuxian that you so adore will be happy about you risking your life for him."

Wangji's eyes flicker towards Wei Ying, who looks exhausted even in his sleep. "He deserved better."

Lan Jingyi is silent for a moment before he speaks, "Sizhui and I read the book on our flight back. Everything was horrible, I'm not surprised that his spirit sustained so much damage. But it is almost entirely intact now. It shows how much he wants to live, Hanguang-jun."

It's a relief.

---

Wei Ying can't speak but his presence is still loud. He rests for a few weeks to recover from his injuries. During that time, Wangji spends most of his days moving from Wei Ying's bedside to the library and back again.

His beloved has an insatiable hunger for knowledge. He wants to know everything about the modern world.

Every morning, Wangji is confronted with a bright face with sparkling eyes waving a book or a scroll in his direction.

Wangji hasn't experienced such liveliness in centuries. The very air of his home glows with Wei Ying's vitality. Wei Ying's body recovers quickly and soon the man is out of bed and following Wangji around.

His heart feels too big for his chest.

By all appearances, Wei Ying is perfectly content. He walks around Cloud Recesses, visits Caiyi Town, and is happy to watch the sunset with Wangji every evening.

That had been Wangji's wish when he performed that summoning.

He wanted Wei Ying to have another chance to live free and happy.

Looking at him now, Wangji wants to reach out, cup that cheerful face, and pepper kisses all over it. He wants to kiss those fluttering eyelids, smooth cheeks, sharp jawline-

That soft, smiling mouth.

Wangji is an immortal. He has endless patience. He can wait for Wei Ying to come to him.

He must wait.

---

The modern world fascinates Wei Ying. His beloved looks at everything from tall buildings to food stalls with wide, stunned eyes. Cloud Recesses and Caiyi Town are still relatively untouched by the passage of time, but Wei Ying has free access to the internet and has learned how to use it within two months of his arrival.

Wangji doesn't restrain him.

He just watches as Wei Ying, his brilliant and enthusiastic love, learns to thrive in his new world.

His voice has still not returned but that doesn't seem to bother Wei Ying. He is delighted to learn that there's a way to communicate nonetheless.

He starts learning sign language and Lan Wangji, with patient and steady hands, practices with him.

---

Lan Sizhui follows Wei Ying around with quiet affection and aching tenderness. He's much older than Wei Ying now, but he remains their son in spirit. He treats Wei Ying like a senior, with respect and adoration.

His Wei Ying notices, of course. At first, he finds the situation quite strange but Wei Ying isn't stupid.

'Lan Zhan,' He asks, 'Who is Sizhui?'

Wangji brings his fingers up and replies, 'He's your a-Yuan. I went looking for you but found him instead.'

Wei Ying's eyes widen and he spins around, running out of the room to seek Sizhui.

Wangji follows sedately and when he finds his love and his son, they're embracing while crying tears of joy.

---

'Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan!'

Wangji huffs under his breath and carefully sets his brush down, tucking the scroll away before turning to meet bright silver eyes.

Wei Ying leans forward with an eager expression, 'Do you know where Suibian is?'

Wangji nods, 'In storage. I was able to retrieve it from the Jin Clan.'

'Can I have it?'

Wangji rises smoothly to his feet and leads Wei Ying to storage where both Suibian and Chenqing.

Wei Ying only glances at Chenqing for a moment before reaching for Suibian with a desperate expression.

Suibian, a blade that has remained sealed since Jiang Wanyin unsheathed it once, easily reveals itself again.

Wei Ying spins around eagerly and looks at him with pleading eyes.

As Wangji is able to deny Wei Ying nothing, he reaches for Bichen and they immediately head for the training grounds.

It has been a long time since Wangji has really used Bichen to its full capacity. With half of his core pulsing within Wei Ying, they're almost evenly matched.

Wangji has not fought in ages but Wei Ying is still a Cultivator. The spar is fast-paced and thrilling. Wangji acquaints himself with Wei Ying as his love becomes reacquainted with his sword.

Wei Wuxian had been one of the best swordsmen of his generation. He has lost none of his elegance and skill. Wangji presses him and Wei Ying laughs soundlessly, twirling around him in white GusuLan robes, bright and joyful.

He breaks Wangji's heart and mends it at the same time.

---

Wangji has missed Wei Ying for hundreds of years.

He can't resist the urge to touch. He keeps it chaste and respectful but his hands have a mind of their own in Wei Ying's vicinity.

When they're out and about, Wangji guides Wei Ying with a hand on his back. It becomes natural to grasp his love's elbow if he wants Wei Ying's attention.

His touches can easily be dismissed as gestures of friendship by most. But Wei Ying knows him.

'er-gege,' Wei Ying's smile is sweet, 'Wei Ying is cold.'

Wangji's eyes flicker over to the lit fire briefly before landing on his love, 'Are you feeling well?' He asks in concern, reaching forward to place the back of his hand on Wei Ying's forehead.

His beloved laughs and nods, leaning into the touch with a sly smile, 'I'm well, just cold.'

Wangji feels a stir in his chest at the intent look in Wei Ying's eyes. Hesitantly, he cups Wei Ying's cheek in silent question.

Wei Ying nuzzles his palm, his eyelids fluttering close gently.

Desperation and elation flood him and Wangji sucks in a sharp breath. He moves in a blur, lifting Wei Ying off his seat and placing him on his lap.

Wei Ying gasps and giggles, his tall, strong body seeming to almost shrink as he cuddles close. Wangji wraps both arms around his love and squeezes him tight, rocking them gently as he is assaulted with painful love.

"Wei Ying, Wei Ying, Wei Ying," He chants in Wei Ying's hair, holding him so close, it feels like there's no part of him not touching his love.

When Wei Ying turns to him with a smile in his eyes, Wangji doesn't hesitate to lean forward, bringing their lips together in a long-awaited kiss.

He presses Wei Ying back against the crook of his elbow and tastes his silent laugh on his tongue.

Wangji has never felt so blissful and complete.

---

Jingyi convinces Wei Ying to go to therapy.

Eager to learn and curious, Wei Ying agrees.

He returns from every session with a thoughtful expression.

Months pass but his voice is still lost.

---

They make love and Wei Ying mouths the words he wants to speak. He smiles, sobs, laughs, and pouts as Wangji takes him apart bit by bit.

Wangji has never known such pleasure. He loses himself, drowning in Wei Ying's scent and finding heaven in his body.

He enjoys feeling smooth skin. He sinks his fingers into Wei Ying's silken hair. He tastes the sharp edge of his jaw. He bites. He drives in and takes ownership of Wei Ying's pleasure.

He presses his mischievous sprite into their bed and doesn't hold back, centuries of love pouring out of him.

---

A combination of therapy and Wei Ying's natural approach to life makes his recovery quick. Within a year, he's well-adjusted and happy.

He laughs at almost everything. The first time they fly, the first time they visit an amusement park, the first time they go to an aquarium.

He laughs and Wangji starts noticing the color of his voice returning to it.

Wangji is grateful for what he has. He's grateful that Wei Ying is back, safe, and happy. He is grateful that Wei Ying is unharmed.

But he cannot lie to himself. He misses Wei Ying's voice.

---

"Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan,"

Wangji almost misses it, as engrossed as he is. He presses in deep and feels a shiver of pleasure race down his spine. Wei Ying's fingers curl around Wangji's nape and his lips caress his ear.

"Lan Zhan,"

He stills.

Wangji takes a deep, bracing breath and pulls back a little, balancing on his arms to peer down at his lover.

Wei Ying is a vision. His cheeks flushed, his eyes wide and dark with passion, his lips bitten red from Wangji's kisses. His long hair is scattered and wild, a tangle of glossy strands across Wangji's pillow.

"Lan Zhan,"

Wei Ying's lips move and a voice accompanies that movement. It is slightly hoarse, somewhat weak, but it is still the voice he barely remembers.

Heat flares in him and he sinks deeper, pulling a sharp gasp from Wei Ying.

He spends the entire night filling their room with that precious voice.

---

Wei Ying doesn't ask questions. He doesn't ask why Wangji did what he did. He doesn't ask how he did it. His beloved has always been perspective and he understood Wangji's desperation from the moment he woke.

He reads the book that triggered it all and laughs, "Aiya, they make me out to be some sort of martyr for justice." He says fondly, for he is very fond of the modern world.

Sizhui is sitting at his feet, eyes closed in bliss as Wei Ying gently combs his hair, styling it into an intricate braid.

"They're not wrong, though." Jingyi can never sit straight and he has forgotten all of his Lan teachings over the years. He has his legs thrown over the arm of his chair and his head is dangling over another arm, his hair sweeping the floor as he nods.

Ridiculous.

"I never asked to be glorified in such a way." Wei Ying protests with a chuckle.

"Baba should be grateful no one knows about his resurrection." Sizhui pipes up, "At least, you don't have to deal with modern stans."

Wangji arches a brow at the word and Wei Ying laughs, already more accustomed to the Internet language than Wangji is. "Oh, heaven forbid!"

"But listen, you and Hanguang-jun have the greatest love story ever, you could write a book about it, Wei-quanbei!"

Wei Ying tilts his head to the side and Wangji urges him to consider it with a subtle nod. Wei Ying is happy but he's never content to be idle. The modern world doesn't need cultivation, but perhaps it can benefit from their stories.

---

‘Once you summon successfully, you belong to this being for all eternity as payment for the one wish they may grant. Half of your core will live within them. If they die, you die. If they live, you live. If they hurt, you hurt. If they become corrupt, you become corrupt.

You will sacrifice immortality, but not the eternal bond. Every time you are reincarnated into this world, you will be tethered to the being.

Beware.

Wangji tucks the scroll away, sealing it so that it is never discovered again.

He has no regrets.

[emile-hides]

Crybaby imagines

I can’t find any BNHA X Reader blogs with their requests open, so heck it. Make the content you want to see in the world.

MHA Blonde boys react to reader crying (for various reasons)

Characters: All Might, Present Mic, Fatgum, Aoyama, Ojiro, Kaminari, Bakugo, Honenuki, Monoma, Mirio

All Might

1-A is an amazing bunch

It sort of just all hit you like a truck, really

How much 1-A had grown, how much they’d overcame

You’re not even entirely sure what sparked the thought process

But once it stared, you couldn’t stop

You were just so?? Proud??? Amazed???

Suddenly you were crying at your desk in the teacher’s lounge

Quiet, heavy tears

Your co-workers took notice, but it was Toshinori who approched your first asking what was wrong

You hadn’t even noticed you were crying

When you get into the why he’s all ears

He sits next to you and is soon joining in on the kid’s progress

He talks mostly about Bakugo and Midoriya, you go on about Asui and Koda

It turns to laughing and quietly bullying the kids for a moment as you two enjoy some of the sillier memories

Soon Toshinori, too, has tears in his eyes

He sobs more than you did

He’s just so proud of these kids!!

You feel like an old married couple talking about their 30-something kids living far from home

Kind of silly considering they’re all 15 and currently in class right down the hall

You two have to go see them during lunch break

Present Mic

Crying in Solidarity

You stood with Hizashi in front of a grave of a kid you never knew on an overcast day

He’d normally make a comment about the weather matching the mood but...

Not now

His fists were clenched, and though his smile stood strong and his glasses hid his eyes

They couldn’t catch his tears

You held his hand in silence and pretended not to notice the falling of his facade 

It happens very seldom

He was shaking, you could hear his breath hitch hard despite his attempts to remain calm

You didn’t know this Shirokumo kid, you’d never met him, you couldn’t pick him out in a crowd if you had to

You didn’t even know who he was to Hizashi

But you knew it tore him up inside that he was buried here

You knew he kept his emotions well contained for everything else but him

You pulled Hizashi a bit closer, letting him lean onto you as tears began to run down your cheeks

The two of you stood in silence and cried on this, an overcast day

The weather really did match your mood.

Fatgum

Crying in relief

The hospital door opened with a loud slam

You didn’t really mean to slam it so hard but now wasn’t the time to go apologizing to inanimate objects for being a little rough

Your voice shrilled even louder than the door the name of the patient laying on the bed in the center of the room

Taishiro looked up with a face of ‘Oh shit’ which was the correct face to have

You were mad for all of the time it took to yell about how worried you were

FIRST OF ALL he didn’t even call to tell you he was in the hospital, you got that information from Tamaki

Second, you barely even know what HAPPENED to land him here

And THIRD,

Nope. Anger’s gone. Evaporated like a puddle in mid July.

Taishiro had sat up in his bed with a nervous smile, peppering in the nicknames and speaking in the gentle voice as he reached out to console you

Just seeing him sit up, his arms bandaged lightly around the wrist

It all just came crashing in

He was fine. 

Tears over flowed as you cried a bit louder than you had yelled previously

Hiccuping and gasping out how worried you were and how mad you still wanted to be

Taishiro just laughed an apology as he hugged you, thankful for your concern

He promised to call next time

You found yourself yelling at him to never do this again

Aoyama

Crying on command

Acting was something you had mastered

More or less anyway

You dove head first into a role and you were damn good at it

But everyone has weaknesses

You’d locked yourself in Aoyama’s room, going over lines and choreography for some little play in the park you two had signed up for

Now you sat on his floor as he painted your nails, glaring daggers into the script

You had to cry. 

It seemed so easy. Think of something sad and cry over it on stage. Simply.

and yet your eyes remained dry, your stage make-up perfect

Aoyama had been couching you, weeping all sorts of tears for your amusment

It wasn’t helping

You turned your glare to Aoyama, who was completely enthralled in drawing tiny art pieces into your nails

God he was bright

....bright.....

You looked directly up at the light on the ceiling and stared

Your eyes wide you forced yourself not to blink

It hurts

And it worked

You looked back to Aoyama with tears streaming down your face and searing pain in your retina

He applauded your dedication

Ojiro

It’s all just a lot

You weren’t really sure when it all became so much

But everything you’d been working at and training for suddenly weighed more than you could bare

You found yourself in the middle of the UA empty halls, flat on the ground on your stomach

Tripping was the breaking point

The straw that broke the camel’s back, as they say

You just started sobbing

When you heard footsteps coming you just kind of... wiggled out of the way

Pressing yourself to the wall you just continued to cry to yourself, curled in a ball, expecting the other person to just pass you by

Instead a soft white handkerchief gently pressed to your cheek, followed by a quiet “Are you okay?”

You were not okay.

Ojiro sat himself beside you as you wiped your face, continuing to sob

You didn’t offer an explanation, he didn’t ask for one

He sat in the hall quietly with you, his tail giving the occasional swish to brush your cheek of tears

The silence gave to time to catch your breath, and realize class probably started a long time ago

When you got up to be on your way, he joined you

He didn’t offer to walk you where you needed to go, he simply did

His quiet wave, his silent smile, his patient glances at you

It all made everything feel just a bit lighter

The next time you’d see Ojiro in the halls, he’d smile at you

And he’d be delighted if you could smile back

Kaminari

Crying from shock

It was just a little zap to the hip, a little bee sting

He’d been doing it to everyone in class, learned it from some stupid tiktok

When it was your turn to get stung, you let out the loudest yelp in the class

He laughed at first, proudly proclaiming how he’d gotten you

Until you whipped to him with fury in your eyes, along with tears

His panicked “Shit, wait, I’m sorry” fell on deaf ears as you quickly gave him a return jab in the hip

Without the actual shock part it probably wasn’t as painful

So you did it a few more times for good measure

Then he jabbed you again

And it was on

Jabs to the hip turned to jabs to the gut, armpit, neck, even right dead center in his chest

You were both in pain and sure to be covered in bruises when Iida finally separated you two

It was hard to see with the tears swelling in both your eyes

But when Denki made direct eye contact with you before giving a glance to Iida, you knew

You nodded, an evil smirk crossing your face

The two of you took your index and middle fingers, driving them quickly and roughly into the class rep’s hips simultaneously

His yelp had the entire class laughing

It then also had the entire class in study hall for the rest of break

Bakugo

He’s just kind of a dick

Standing outside of class 1-A you felt as though your heart was beating in your throat

When the door opened you jumped out of your skin as a green haired boy came out at full speed

He managed to stop on a dime before slamming into you though

You choked out the courage to ask him if Katsuki Bakugo was in class

The kid before you stared in shock before turning around and calling for a “Kacchan”, telling him someone was here to see him

You glanced in the door and watched as several people pried the man you wanted to see from his seat, shoving him forcefully to the door

They all then slammed the door behind him, keeping the green haired kid who seemed in a rush to leave trapped inside

He barked a what at you that made you reconsider all your choices

Still. You swallowed all your courage, and said what you came here to say.

You confessed your feelings to Bakugo, bravely. 

He stared at you with a face of utter confusion, and it managed to catch you a bit off guard

He looked like he didn’t know how to respond

Which he, of course, didn’t.

So he responded the only way he really knows how

Anger.

“WHO THE HELL EVEN ARE YOU?!”

He called you some background extra. What gave you even the slightest though he’d want to be with some nobody he didn’t even know the name of

Within seconds of his screaming the 1-A doors slammed open yet again

The group who’d peeled Bakugo from his seat before jumped from the room and began wrestling him into submission, berating him for his treatment of you

But you were inclined to agree with him

You told them it was fine. He was right, you were just some nobody

You couldn’t stop your voice from shaking, tears streaming from your eyes as you gripped tightly at your shirt

Not knowing really what else to do, you turned and ran away

It was well over a few hours later, and you were still crying alone in the court yard

You flinched at the sound of footsteps approaching you. You closed your eyes and planned to make a run for it somewhere else to avoid bothering anyone

“Hey, dumbass,” a hand placed on your forehead, pulling you back to lean on the person behind you, “You could do a lot better than an ass like me.”

You glanced at Bakugo, who was looking far into the distance, his ears red

You cried and apologized. He didn’t say much else, but his hand remained on you, keeping you in place

You found yourself invited out more, running around with Bakugo and his friends, being rowdy and dumb as teens should be

Your crush on Katsuki Bakugo soon became a distant memory as he grew to be one of your closest friends

Honenuki

Yawning

You flopped dramatically onto the common room couch and let out the loudest, most drawn out sigh you could muster

This act of pure drama drew the attention of Juzo Honenuki, who simply chuckled at your antics

You stretched like a cat across the couch, reaching for him lazily with one hand, you swatted at the book he’d been comfortably reading

He gave another chuckle and inquired what you were after

You answered with an equally dramatic and drawn out yawn, bringing tears to your eyes as you again stretched to him

You then closed your eyes and snuggled into a couch pillow

Honenuki’s hand stretched across the couches and found itself on your head, giving gentle pets back and forth

Once he found himself a good stopping point, Honenuki put his bookmark in place and snapped the book closed

He gave a stretch and a yawn before encouraging you to your feet

You lazily tangled your arms around one of his and draped yourself over him

The two of you walked to your separate dorm rooms arm in arm, occasionally letting out more and more exasperated yawns and sleepy giggles

Monoma

Crying from pain

This was... probably your fault?

You remembered running into Awase from class 1-B while going a bit too fast though the halls

Next thing you knew you were in front of him, on your ass, staring up at him upside down

It took a minute for the pain to register, but as soon as it did tears stung your eyes

You couldn’t even really say anything as Awase’s eyes filled with panic when he’d realized what he’d done, quickly dropping your arm and stepping back, probably planning to make a run for it

The is until his blond classmate came up behind him, pressuring him to apologize in a loud, negging tone

When Awase again avoided your eyes, opting to shove his hands in his pockets as he glared at the wall, Monoma dropped to his knees and offered you assistance

The question of “Do you need to go to the nurse?” was accompanied with a handkerchief dabbed at your eyes

Monoma helped you to your feet, apologizing for his classmate, assuring you you were fine and didn’t need to report this to a teacher because you were clearly fine look at you you’re fine

I mean you weren’t bleeding so... Yeah? You were fine.

He sounded like he’d be the one in trouble if you told someone about Awase self defense flipping you over his shoulder

When he offered again to walk you to the nurse, you declined

He was right, you were fine, just a bit sore

You wiped the tears from your eyes and thanked him for his concern as you walked passed him

You also apologized to Awase for bumping into him, though he just huffed a response

You didn’t get very far when you heard quick steps following close behind

Monoma was just checking in to make sure you for sure weren’t going to tell anyone class 1-B’s Awase threw you like a rag doll

He also just figured while he was here he’d ask if there was anything he could do to make up for this incident

Like... buy you lunch sometime.... Or take you out to a nice cafe he knows after school... maybe...?

He just. Didn’t want you to think class B does hit and runs like this on all the pretty students

Mirio

Crying from laughing

Your sides hurt

You gripped onto yourself as you leaned onto Mirio, cackling harder than you had in a while

He was retelling some jokes he’d gone over with Sir Nighteye at his internship today, regaling you, Tamaki, and Nejire with perfect one-liners and horrid puns

You all were laughing far too hard for this late at night

Tears pricked your eyes as you slapped at Mirio’s leg, gasping for breath you begged for a time out

You have the most contagious laugh, Mirio was positive his jokes only ever landed because you laughed at them so easily

When you finally caught your breath you sat up, rubbing giggly tears from your eyes

You gave a glance around the room and found Tamaki doing the same, though his tears were from the yawn he’d just given

All three of you watched Tamaki adorably shifts as he rubbed the tired from his eyes, something he flushed over when he’d finally noticed the attention

Nejire declared that meant bedtime and hopped from her seated position, pulling Tamaki along with her

In a matter of moments she was dragging the tired boy out of the room to their own dorms

You and Mirio chuckled at her antics before you too got up to get going

Mirio offered to walk you to your dorm, which wasn’t far down the hall, but he made such a show of it how could you say no?

Of course he spent the whole walk telling even more terrible jokes that continued to crack you up

By the time you’d gotten to your dorm you were so giggly you couldn’t see straight

Mirio waved as he turned and walked the 5 feet back to his own room

He then turned around and waved again, claiming he already misses you

You giggled at him and returned to your own room

He loved your laugh.

[reidingmelodies]

His Greatest Mistake

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn! Reader Category: Angst with a dash of fluff Includes: Sad Spencer, brief mention of injury, implied emotional cheating Word Count: 1.4k (oops) A/N: This was requested by @ssa-m-187 based on the song Be My Mistake by The 1975!  Thank you so much for the request, this one was a challenge in the best way and I loved every second of writing it ♡

Masterlist | Ash’s 500 Bash

It was never supposed to be like this.  It was supposed to be him taking engagement photos with you, him sending save the dates with you, him sitting by your side and planning the wedding you had always imagined.

Instead, it was him clutching the picture he was so obviously absent from to his chest in the dim light of his apartment.

He knew something had happened the second he walked into the bullpen that morning.  The room was quiet, any and all previous conversation halting the moment he locked eyes with Penelope across the way.  

And he knew.  When her eyes shifted towards the floor and her breath stuttered in her throat he knew in his soul that it had to do with you.

But he never imagined this.

She dropped the picture into his hands with murmured words of comfort, leaving him with the promise that she would be in her office alongside a cup of coffee with his name on it if he needed to talk.

And as she walked away, he turned the picture over and felt his heart break into a thousand fragments with no hopes of ever being repaired.

The phrase ‘save the date!’ glared at Spencer from the top of the cardstock, but nothing compared to the feeling of ice in his veins at the sight of your smile.

It was a smile he hadn’t seen in person in 3 years, 4 months, and 12 days, but it still danced through the forefront of his brain each night he went to sleep and each morning he awoke next to his greatest mistake.

And as he sat in his apartment after a day of comforting glances laced with pity thrown at him from each direction he couldn’t help but relish on the what ifs.

What if he had loved you better?

What if he had fought harder?

What if he called you instead of her that night?

Loving you was the easiest and yet the most courageous thing he’d ever done.  With you, casual touches came quicker, tough conversations came easier, confessions of love flowed smoother.

Not like with her.

He had met you exactly 6 years, 5 months, and 18 days ago in the most cliche of ways- when he spilled his coffee on your shirt as you were reaching around him for your own drink.

Stuttered apologies somehow turned into telling stories over cups of freshly brewed coffee and before either of you knew it he was leaving the shop with your number in his phone and plans to see you again on Saturday at your favorite museum.

And then Saturday brought along the promise of more dates which turned into spending nights entangled under sheets and mornings filled with apartment hunting before finally signing the papers for a place of your own.

And for 3 years, 1 month, and 6 days it was bliss.

At least that’s what he liked to tell himself.

The bricks that had surrounded his heart were entirely non-existent when it came to you.  You held the key to the inner workings of his heart, and you would safeguard it with your life if you were asked.

And he held the key to yours too, but it turns out that only meant so much.

The majority of your relationship was simplicity in the sweetest form.  It was the feel of your favorite sweater, the smell of your favorite candle, the taste of your go to comfort beverage.

It was simple.  And yet, it was everything.

He longed for the moments a case would end and he could fall into your arms with the promise of drifting to sleep with the feel of your fingers mindlessly spelling ‘I love you’ along his back.  Time off of work was spent cuddled together on the couch, letting the sounds of whatever was playing on the television serve as the background noise for whatever silly debate the two of you had fallen into.

It was simple.  But somewhere along the way the simplicity gave way to complications.

2 years, 9 months, and 18 days into your relationship he found himself enthralled by a guest speaker at your favorite library.  You had to work late so you weren’t able to come, but at the moment he found himself grateful for that because it meant more time with her.

It meant more time to bounce theories off of her, more time to be absolutely captivated by her genius.

It also meant more time for them to trade phone numbers.

And later that night as he told you all about the speech and the amazing lecturer he had met you were ecstatic that the lecture turned out even better than he had hoped.

That ecstatic feeling probably would have dimmed if you knew about the phone number burning a hole in his pocket though.

As the weeks flew by he found himself calling her more and more.  It was never of a romantic nature, always related to one theory or another, but it was enough to draw his attention away from you.

And as the distance between you and him grew, and grew, and grew, one of you was sitting at home desperately thinking of ways to fix it while the other was making up excuses about misplaced paperwork keeping him at work while the low battery tone of his phone chimed away in his pocket.

And on the 1,132nd day the greatest love Spencer ever knew crumbled to the ground.

The case was bad.  So bad, in fact, that he found himself in a hospital bed for a few days after a close call with an unsub.

But as much as everyone told him to call you, you weren’t the one he longed to talk to.

As visiting hours ended and the team left his bedside to get some well-needed rest, he found himself glued to his phone talking to her.  

And while her voice was what he so desperately wanted to hear, he couldn’t help the pang in his gut every time he ignored one of your calls as yours was the voice he so desperately needed to hear.

On the plane ride home, he thought of all the ways he could explain the delayed homecoming to you, all the ways he could hide the wounds gracing his chest from you for the next few weeks.

But, he should’ve known someone would have told you.

He came home to your suitcases packed while you sat in the sea of luggage against the sofa you had picked out together in the blissful beginning of your relationship.

Oh, how he longed to be back there now.

He wanted you to scream, to storm out, to do anything that would lessen the guilt that maliciously tore at his soul.

But instead, you were calm, albeit heartbroken.  You explained you had a feeling something was going on, but the fact that he had gotten hurt and didn’t even tell you proved it.  You told him it was okay, that you wished him all the best, and then you left.  With a tear running down your face but your posture holding all the grace in the world.

And somehow, your calm nature in the midst of his internal storm made it even worse.

He needed to do something, anything, to get out of the apartment that was a living, breathing museum dedicated to your love.  

He should’ve chased after you.  But instead, he went to her.

And with that decision, his future was set in stone.

No matter how riveting his conversations were with her, they didn’t hold a candle to the debates he had with you.  With you, cuddles before bed were an honored tradition; with her, it was custom to stare at the wall and keep his hands to himself until he fell asleep to the thought of your smile.  

He saw you in everything.  In the bouquet she placed on the table (they were your favorite flowers), in the body wash she used (it was your least favorite scent- and because of that it was his least favorite, too), in the book she kept next to her bed (it was the book he used to read to you on nights you couldn’t sleep).

You were everywhere and nowhere all at once.

And now, as she called him to bed and he stuffed your photo in between the pages of the first book he could reach he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he had made a terrible mistake.

A mistake that he was destined to fall asleep next to that night, wishing that instead of her, it was you.  

***

Link to join my taglist ♡

Permanent Taglist: @calm-and-doctor @reidyoulikeabook @shadyladyperfection @homoose Spencer Taglist:  @averyhotchner @muffin-cup

[tealnymph-writes]

Battlefield Bonds

As Azriel sees Gwyn fall in battle, causing something to snap in his chest.

Note: Option 1 from my poll yesterday won, so here is that one shot!

If you would like to be tagged in updates, please let me know!

Read on AO3

Azriel x Gwyn

Warnings: Mentions of blood. Angsty fluff.

Word Count: 1,195

Masterlist

Azriel plunged deeper into the battlefield, downing enemy after enemy as he fought toward Beron's internal lines, keeping a watchful eye on the two Valkyrie who fought close to him.

He hated the idea of Gwyn and Emerie, or even Nesta for that matter, joining the battle, but he knew better than to argue with them. He had trained the girls himself; they could hold their own. But even knowing that, his heart had still been an aching mess of worry from the moment Gwyn had dawned armor and set out with him.

But the priestess had proven she was more than capable of handling herself, managing to keep up with him as he tore through Beron's soldiers with a fury he normally kept well-contained. But this wasn't a regular battle. He had Gwyn with him, and Emerie and Nesta and the rest of his family. He couldn't lose this fight, no matter how many extra soldiers and tricks Beron had bargained Koschei for. There was too much at stake.

Luckily, Rhys and Cassian, who were towards the front with the rest of the group while Azriel fought from the side, had thinned the army coming at them. Just as soon as Rhys made it to Beron, this battle would end. They just needed to last a few more minutes. He could feel Rhys drawing closer, Lucien and Eris flanking him.

A moment later, the waves of armies stopped; whatever spell Koshchei had helped Beron use to keep the soldiers mindless had broken. The remains of the enemy slowly fell to the ground, unconscious or willingly surrendering. Only a stray soldier here and there who was more loyal to Beron than they were Eris still gave fight, and they would be quickly taken care of.

Azriel felled one more stray soldier, then turned to find Gwyn, who had fallen slightly behind with Emerie. Her head whipped toward him, a grin spreading across her face as the battle died down around them, but she turned a moment too late. And he was too far away.

A stray soldier lunged from the ground toward Gwyn, thrusting his sword into her side a second before Emerie could deliver the killing blow.

A scream tore its way out of Azriel's throat, his shadows flooding the battlefield as he watched his worst nightmare happen right in front of him. The blade tore through Gwyn, bringing her to her knees with a look of shock as Emerie killed the male who had executed the blow.

Time seemed to stop as something in Azriel's chest snapped so hard it almost brought him to his knees. He mindlessly rushed toward Gwyn, slaughtering anyone and anything that dared get in his way. He reached her in seconds, the frantic thrumming still screaming at him as he took her in his arms. But he couldn't pay attention to it yet, not while Gwyn was hurt.

"Gwyn, honey, it's gonna be okay. I can fix this. You're gonna be all right," he promised, cradling her while he tried assessing her wounds, grateful when Mor and Nesta arrived and began tending to her as well.

He was fairly sure tears were streaming down his face, but he didn't care. All that mattered was stopping the flow of blood that was pouring from Gwyn's side. He needed her to live. Needed her to walk off this battlefield with him in one piece.

He didn't hear anything the others were saying as he held Gwyn in his arms, cradling her face while they worked to heal her. His shadows hovered protectively, doing their best to soothe Gwyn while he kept murmuring to her, trying to get her to look at him, to keep her eyes open.

When she finally met his gaze, her teal eyes sparkling despite her injury, he finally understood the wild thrumming in his chest, the one that seemed to be singing a word to him over and over again. The word that explained the sharp snap in his chest he had felt when she had fallen to the ground. Mate. Gwyn was his mate.

"Az, I'm okay, it's nothing," Gwyn weakly smiled at him, softly cupping his cheek as Mor, and now Feyre, healed her wounds, Nesta and Emerie anxiously hovering close by. "I'll be healed in no time at all. Then I can go back to kicking your ass in training."

He let out a strangled sound, half laugh half sob, unable to think of anything beside the word that kept flooding his mind. “You’re my mate,” he choked out, a sob wracking his body as he looked at her. “We’re mates. You’re my mate.”

She laughed, the sound easing the terror in his heart. That was the sound of his Gwyn. That was the lovely, musical laughter that always made him smile. She was going to be all right; he wasn’t going to lose her.

She brushed the tears away from his cheek, flashing a smile that was only for him. “It’s about time, Shadowsinger,” she murmured, her face softening as she studied him.

He raised an eyebrow at her, his throat too tight to form words. She laughed again, her nose crinkling, her face shining with love as she held his gaze.

“I’ve known for a while, I was just waiting for you to figure it out,” she explained, her words somehow not shocking him as much as he expected. A part of him felt like he already knew, but his heart had just needed an extra shove to understand. “You’re not mad, are you? That I didn’t tell you?”

He slowly shook his head, darting his eyes down to make sure her wound was almost healed. To his relief, Feyre and Mor had sealed the injury and were now kneeling next to Emerie and Nesta, the four of them watching as he held his mate closely, the battle ended.

He turned back to Gwyn, the tightness in his chest finally easing, replaced with a steady thrumming, an almost familiar melody humming through him. His shadows echoed the tune, swirling around them with a mixture of joy and a fierce protectiveness that was reserved only for him – and now his mate. His lovely Gwyn.

He carefully lifted her as he stood, preparing to take her home so they could see a healer just in case any of her wounds had done extra damage. She watched him patiently, waiting for him to find the words to speak.

“I’m not mad, my love,” he finally whispered, the tears that escaped his eyes now ones of joy. “You’re my mate. How could I ever be mad at you?”

“I love you,” Gwyn responded simply, leaning her forehead against his, her words for him and him alone. “And I am honored to be your mate.”

“I love you too, but…” he trailed off, losing himself in those teal eyes as he began to winnow them home, his focus entirely on Gwyn. “The honor is all mine, my love. My mate.”

She tilted her head back, then flashed that gorgeous smile again before softly kissing him, letting him sink into her as they disappeared into the shadows.

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

Tags:  @chloepereyra | @lovelyladymayyy | @gojosatorurailmepls | @valkygwyn | @remellarome | @inejjg | @azrielsgirl | @gisellefigue08 | @acourtofmidnightsnacks | @67impalagirl13 | @illyrian-valkyrie | @arinbelle | @amandapearls | @bittermuire | @cauldron-blessedarcheron1 | @starbornsinger | @princessofmerchants | @allygug | @zooni92802 | @molinden | @tallyovie | @siyeoncruella | @thelittlebookishcorner | @zerxfaithinhumanity | @words-are-what-i-hide-behind | @vasudharaghavan | @gwynkyrie | @niytavia | @fairytamy | @madie2200 | @icarusave | @spookylightkidranch | @mirubyai | @gwynsazriel | @live-the-fangirl-life | @bookprofessor | @ddsworldofbooks | @positivewitch | @cursebreaker29 | @zullyluly | @violentdelightshaveviolentends12 | @faithisilliterate | @b00kishwh0re | @spookyfreakturtlefire | @inejbrekkxr | @whereisvaughan | @aelingalathyniusrailme  | @secretlovelybeauty | @gwynrielsupremacist | @bookologist | @unpopularcharacterstan | @moodymelanist | @discorrdiia | @generalnesta | @flora-shadowshine | @amaranthas-whore | @georgialeighc13 | @selfdestructionfetish | @hlizr50 | @sia-r | @gpxxx | @annikaschwietz | @rewiue

[oddaodd]

· Maimed ·

Summary: Tommy finds out Y/n had to resort to prostitution while he was away at war and doesn't handle it well. 

Author’s note: This was requested by the lovely @idgaf2022  and I just gotta say I fell in love with this request and Im very happy with how it turned out . As always, I wish you all the loveliest of days. ❤️

Warnings: mentions of prostitution, war and an accident with a knife.

·

“When where you going to tell me?” Came his voice void of all emotion. His eyes piercing through her skin.

“Tell you what?” She smiled. Her mind refusing to believe she knew what he was talking about.

“I was at The Garrison today” he began There was a man, a man I had never seen before. He spun such yarns about you ” he paused and took a look at Y/n’s face. Her smile long gone. She knew what he was talking about.

“At first I though he must be stupid to come up with such stories about my wife in my pub, but then when nobody  believed him, he mentioned the scar you have under your ribs” he spoke pointing at the place where she evidently had a scar.

“Tommy… I..I” But she couldn’t find the words, they were all held back by the knot in her throat.

The war had been hell. Everyone had lived through it differently. Tommy and his brothers and many other men had had to go and fight and Y/n and Polly and Ada and many other women had had to stay behind and run the country while the men were gone. They were dark times abundant with need and scarceness.  Y/n had tried her best to keep her and tommy’s baby daughter, Josephine away from need and hunger. Having just gotten married and had their baby, Y/n had her hands tied. She tried to help Polly as much as she could at the shop but sometimes there just wasn’t enough money which lead Y/n to charging fro her company to the men who didn’t serve. All for Jo’s sake.

When Tommy came back she never mentioned it, ready to put it behind her and every night she prayed for Tommy to never find out. All her customers had been from outside of Birmingham after all.  

“Did you seriously think I’d never find out?”

“No” she began, taking his hands in her shaky ones she wanted to, but she knew she couldn’t hide it forever. “No, but I just… I just didn’t know If I wanted you to know. I felt so ashamed and I didn’t want to bring it up when I knew I would never have to do it again. Things were hard when you left …”

“ It must have been such a sacrifice” he muttered bitterly and snatched his hands away from hers.

“How dare you?” she spat “You have no idea of how hard it was when you were away, the money from the shop just wasn’t enough!”

“Oh I bet” he said sarcastically “You’ve never liked sleeping alone.”

“Thomas...” she warned dumbfounded on the verge of tears. She couldn’t believe her own husband was making her feel like shit.

But he ignored her tone and her hurt features “Needed someone to keep your bed warm while I was away” he spat mercilessly “Or maybe you just missed the feeling of someone between your legs”

At his venomous words Y/n saw her own hand moving in slow motion before it crashed against Tommy’s cheek. She couldn’t handle him to keep talking like that, digging up a past she tried so hard to burry deep down. Her lips parted at her own actions.

When Tommy’s unchanging face fixed upon her again he noticed the tears that had so vehemently threatened to spill had finally succeed in doing so. Triggering a feeling of deep guilt deep within his soul.

“Fuck you” she spoke in a maimed voice. Tommy prepared himself for more verbal retaliation from her, but she left the room without another word and a few minutes later he heard the engine of a car shortly followed by the sound of tires moving on the gravel.

It was only then when Tommy realized he had maybe taken it too far. He wasn’t acting out of hatred. When he heard the bloke talking about how well Y/N felt snd bragging about having fucked Thomas Shelby’s wife, he felt his anger rise to levels he hadn’t known till before that unfaithful night. The man, obviously was dead before Tommy began heading home.

Nasty emotions had been festering in his mind with every kilometer he drove and when he saw Y/n when he arrived home, it all exploded.He was angry, not necessarily at Y/n, but angry at what she had done, angry at himself. He hated that he couldn’t have avoided what lead to Y/n having to do what she had done.

Y/n avoided her husband to her best efforts for the following week. Polly took her and her daughter in when she knocked crying on her door. Y/n couldn’t shake the nasty feelings Thomas had awoken within her. She couldn’t stand more than an hour without breaking into tears and her heart broke every time her little Jo looked at her with worried eyes, ignorant of what she was going through. It wasn’t something a 7 year old should know about.

Polly understood Y/n’s pain and helped her take care of Jo when she couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed.

“Your mummy’s tired. Let’s let her rest”

She had been there with her all along and when Y/n had asked her to keep her secret all those years ago, Polly obliged without question. She knew her nephew wouldn’t comprehend.

Days went by slow, heavy and cold. One Friday evening, pol had taken Jo to the movies giving Y/n a little time for herself.

Oddly enough, she felt like cooking so she made her way downstairs and began making vegetable soup. After half an hour or so she heard the front door opening.

“Was the film good?” She asked loudly hoping to hear the sound of Jo’s voice, but when she heard the footsteps coming closer to the kitchen she immediately identified them as Tommy’s  

“Please go away” she asked in such a broken voice that made Tommy contemplate on going away to not cause her further discomfort, but he stayed because he knew he had to make it right.

“We should talk” he said in an uncertain voice standing at a respectable distance from his wife.

“I don’t want to talk” she spoke shakily. Goosebumps suddenly taking over her body.

“I’m so sorry Y/n, I..”

“You made me feel like dirt” she stated as she heard his footsteps drawing nearer to her with his uncharacteristic apology.

“I spent so much time forcing myself to be alright with what I had to do keep Jo and I alive  and then to try and forget all about it when you came back” a  heavy breath holding back her years as she began chopping a carrot.

“But now you brought it back up and I... I feel so filthy, I’ve showered three times today and I don’t feel any better.” She continued as the first tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Y/n “He began softly placing a testing hand on her waist. She shook it away.

“Look at me” he pleaded

But Y/n shook her head no. Knowing he was in no place to reproach, he respected her unwillingness to look at him and spoke.

“Im so sorry, Y/n. I was selfish and didn’t stop to think about what you were feeling”

Y/n’s body continued to shake with silent sobs

“I now know I was in no place to judge what you had to do to survive and  I won’t ever forgive myself for making you hurt like this”

“Yeah you were in no place” y/n spat with sudden anger as she continued cutting the vegetables with tears in her eyes “Not when you didn’t even stop to ask me and decided to just listen to the part of the story some bloke told you and not...” she hadn’t noticed the force she was putting into her cutting skills until the knife grazed her finger.  

She yanked her hand away from the cutting board with a wince and immediately went to grab a piece of cloth to  wrap her finger in.

“Fuck, y/n” Tommy said coming to her side when he heard her wince. “Are you alright?”

She shook her head no and he knew she wasn’t answering about the cut.

“Please look at me” he tried again and to his surprise this time Y/n did tilt her face to face him.

The sight of her bloodshot eyes tore cracks in Tommy’s heart. And his hands shook a little when he cupped her face, a few tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

“I love you Y/n” he professed looking into her eyes.”I’m so sorry I was so crass about it. And I promise you’ll never have to do that ever again. I’ll keep you safe”

At his words Y/n’s hands went to his. She understood and accepted his repentance, but it did little to soften the pain she felt. Tommys hands then went to tuck a few strands of her loose hair behind her ear his eyes still set on hers.

Y/n then succumbed to the sudden need she felt for his touch and embraced him with uncertain arms. Tommy corresponded instantly wrapping his own arms around her fragile figure.  After a few moments of silence and much needed touch, he asked to her ear if she could ever forgive him.

“Yes” she spoke weakly but she wasn’t entirely certain she meant it. She wanted to forgive him but she didn’t know if she could ever forget his hateful words. Tommy knew it well enough.

·

@captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyxtommy @writeroutoftime @lilymurphy03

[babytaes]

afterglow

➳  summary:  You, too, lived in a colorless world, trying to connect with it. How long would you have to wait for that one to brighten it up and let you see the real world?

❥  pairing: wonwoo x female reader

❥ genre: angst, fluff, kinda soulmate au.....?

❥ word count: 7k (sorry, mans is my bias and I had to ;)

❥ warning: mentions of death.

➳ part of the song series

↳  Imagine a world like that,

We go like up 'til I'm 'sleep on your chest

Love how my face fits so good in your neck

You had a twin brother who was everything to you. Everything was always you two, from the endless amounts of laughter to the sneaky efforts to take Christmas cookies early in the morning.

With him, everything seems to be so colorful; in your lifetime, everyone was given a companion who may be a friend, sibling, or lover. It was simply something that you treasured. As a result, the alternatives were numerous.

You had no idea how much his life meant to you. He was your second half, and now you'd been split in half, with one gone and the other remaining.

Months passed, and your relationship with him became increasingly dimmer and dimmer. The brilliant hues faded in and out, with black and white patches becoming more prominent.

That awful day, unfortunately, was the last time you saw color. His light had faded from the world, and all that was left was black and white.

With him gone, your entire life seemed pointless, even your day-to-day existence. No splash of color to brighten things up.

“Y/N, I'll never forget you, big sister. Thank you for the enjoyable and considerate memories, and don't let this stunt your growth, please do that for me. As the beeper went off, he began to cough incessantly.

“Helpppp anyone.” As your parents draw you back into their arms, you hear many doctors rush into the room.

There was nothing they could do; his hue had vanished from this world. When you opened your tear-streaked eyes and examined your hands, you noticed that the formerly vivid cream palms had turned gray.

As if all colors were abruptly bleached out of the world, revealing a universe of whiteness—the rainbow, flowers, trees, and art, everything freshly bleached and pearled. The last vestige of color had vanished from your life, and you had been broken since then, heartbroken over the loss of your dearest friend.

“Y/n, hey you're good, we could use your help.” As you glanced to the side, you noticed that one of your employees had just spilled some water from the mop bucket.

As you approach their side, you assist them in mopping up the mess while sweeping aimlessly across the floor, making sure to get every spot. Due to your new life of no color it reflected on your life emotionally.

As the days passed, you became increasingly depressed and unmotivated. There wasn't a single day when you didn't feel mopey or lonely. It wasn't like anyone could help me; it was just the challenge of living a life without color.

Although you sincerely desired to overcome this phase of your life and simply find the right person to fill that void, life did not work in your favor at the time. Everyone around you seemed to be looking for or had already found their "person."

All you wanted was to find the person who could restore your hope and love, which had been taken away when your brother died. Your parents did everything they could to assist you, including setting you up on strange and ineffective dates that just added to your unhappiness.

Nobody could replace that color that your brother provided for you, or maybe someone could? 

"I'm off," you remarked as you pulled off your apron and clocked out in the back. As you stepped out the door, you heard a flurry of goodbyes before closing it behind you.

The world never shifted when the clock struck five.

As you strolled down the crowded streets, the sky before and above you remained grey, never letting up that cloak of shade. A melodious music gradually pours into your ears as you go down the bustling sidewalk.

You follow the dazzling yet tranquil sound of the guitar aimlessly as you imagine music notes flying through the fall air. You cautiously open your tired eyes and spot the crowd to figure out where these tunes are coming from.

Looking up, you spotted a swarm encircling a male, but you couldn't tell who it was. However, it was the music that drew you in; you'd heard that melody before. Even if you weren't musically inclined, you could hear that tune anywhere.

It was his, the one he wrote for you.

--

You dashed outside to see your brother strumming a tune on the grass with his guitar. Your brother possessed a talent for music. It is a condition that many people are born with, and you were fortunate that your brother was one of them.

He didn't go a day without making up or humming something he'd learned. It was frustrating to hear it every day, but it was still lovely to witness his enthusiasm for it.

“Hey, what are you cooking up this time?”  As he began to strum the guitar, he turned around and grinned at you. You couldn't understand what he was mumbling, but it sounded lovely as his fingers casually slid across the strings.

“I don't have the lyrics yet, but I'm sure they'll come. You laughed and nudged his shoulder.

“Just don’t go play at 3 in the morning. Okay?”

“It's not my fault that's typically when the inspiration comes,” he grumbled as he rolled his eyes.

As you raced away from him, you swiftly took his guitar, saying, "Well, I guess that inspiration will have to wait." He leapt from his seat and dashed towards you, yelling your name.

You had no idea that would be his final song; you regret not listening to the finished product; you never knew if he finished it. However, when you got closer to the enticing sound, you observed a young man strumming a guitar, and your ears perked up.

A slender man with long fingers and a quirky side smile, perhaps a musician, delicately touched a golden acoustic guitar, playing her ever so elegantly. You stand there, enthralled by the song, as his hands strum and tug the steel strings of the guitar. You take a cautious step closer to him in order to get a better look.

Allowing the music to take control of your body, you take a deep breath and allow an ounce of hope to creep in. From miles away, the formerly lovely and alive girl could be seen racing to you as you opened your arms to her.

You tried desperately to reach her before she vanished into thin air. The glint had disappeared. As you slowly open your eyes, you notice the man stop playing and gazes up at the audience.

As a smile crept across your face, the edges of your lips began to curl up. You'd forgotten what a smile looked like; you hadn't seen one in a long time, and it just felt natural. Even though he was gone, you could sense his presence. As you began to back away from the mob, tears began to flow freely from your eyes.

As you faded from his view and moved away from the crowd, the boy cast a peek at you. You swear you saw a glimpse of color rushing through your orbs, even if it was just for a split second. You couldn't tell if this was a joke or a new experience for you because you were more terrified than excited.

Could you trust that vision? Would they leave your life like he once did or would they stay? (IT)

Although you wanted to stay and figure it out you had somewhere to be and you didn’t want anyone to waste that special time.

(1 hour later)

Opening the rusted gate and looking at the wrought iron fences sends shivers down your spine as you are whisked back to that tragic day.

--

As you headed towards the pit, a crack formed in your heart. As they lowered his casket into the black abyss, the steady steps of feet carried it there. Countless shadowy figures form a procession, speaking in unison to pay their respects to the one you cherish. Your inner essence is corrupted by despair, and your heart bleeds like a river inside. Nothing could ever make you feel better.

As they began to fill the hole with dirt, tears welled up in your eyes, prompting you to lower your head. He didn't want you to be sad; he knew his time was coming to an end, yet he felt so safe in his final days.

He wasn't going to abandon you; he'd promised you that he'd left you something to aid you along the path. Even if that were the case, you never discovered it after four years. You rummaged through his room and tore it apart.

You quickly recognized that he was either joking or that the drug had taken effect in his brain and he was talking gibberish. In any case, you made a pledge to visit his grave every day from that day forward to keep him company and to keep yourself sane.

---

Clutching onto your bag, the leaves crunched beneath your feet as you peered about. You see specks of people strewn throughout the cemetery as you hear some speak in low whispers. It didn't take you long to find his gravestone.

You noticed the dead flowers drooping over as you took them out of their vase beside the tomb. Replacing them always brought joy to your heart as the sight of a fresh bouquet of flowers brightened the somber ambiance, which contrasted with the mold-infested tomb.

Taking out your cleaning supplies and speaker, you start working on his tomb while listening to his favorite music. As you hummed along with the song, your soft-bristle brush softly scrubbed the headstone in an orbital motion from bottom to top, carefully avoiding the fissures.

As you finished the soap, you began to rinse the stone as dirt and debris began to fall off the tomb. Although you couldn't determine if everything was off, you could plainly see the phrases and symbols, which was a good hint to stop cleaning everything off.

You wanted to do more for him and not leave any dirt on the surface. But because everything was gray, you couldn't tell, which made you sulk as you put down your brush. As you check the clock on your phone, you exhale a sigh of relief.

7:23p.m

Looking around, you noticed the stragglers had dispersed, leaving you alone as you gazed up at the sky.

“I hope the sunset looks beautiful today, I do miss it.”

The late evening sunset was the one thing you missed more than your brother; you had always admired how everything just flowed and fit together in the evening sky. It's almost as if someone began painting and simply let their hand float through the air.

As you turned to face his tomb, another smile appeared on your face, prompting you to go into your bag for something. As you placed down a cup for you and him, you chuckled at the bottle revealed beneath the sky.

“Lucas, here's to another day. It's been difficult in recent years, but today was a good day. I sensed your presence through the music of some random person; it was strange, but I'm glad I was there to see it. So thank you,” you say, raising your shot glass in the air and taking a sip.

As you heard a voice, you wiped a stray tear from your face.

“I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Shit, what the hell,” you cursed the dark figure, startled and terrified. Who is there? As you squint your eyes at him, a male emerges from the shadows.

It's him.

----

You cough as you stand up and face the nameless man, he extends his hand as his glasses slide down his narrow nose, “Hi I’m Wonwoo.”

You take his hand in yours and shake it slowly, his grip firm until you let go.

“Hi..wonwoo? “I'm Y/n.” As the boy grinned at you, your voice was barely audible.

He takes a careful step alongside you and sits down close to your brother's grave, placing a case beside him. As you enlarged your eyes and sat down next to him, still observing him, the atmosphere felt reassuring but strange.

“I apologize for startling you; I didn't know that you were there. I’m not sure if your brother mentioned me but I was his friend, we used to write songs together.” As he turned to face you, you noticed the tall man attempting to cross his legs.

You shook your head as you began to gather your belongings, unsure of who this man was. For all you knew, he may be lying to you, so you needed to get out of there as soon as possible. You rose up and began walking away after securing the zipper on your backpack.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave. I can come back another time. I am truly sorry if I interrupted anything."

“No, it's fine,” you say with a shake of your head and outstretched hands.

“Are you sure?”

You walk away again, nodding your head as you hear his voice and a familiar tune.

You came to a halt in your tracks as you slowly turned around to face the boy after hearing a faint melody. As your ears perked up, you heard a low voice.

‘I stand still before you before me. I’m okay, not okay..” The lyrics faded out as you started to find your bearings again as you made your way out of the cemetery. As you stepped toward the road, you strapped your bag on, making sure you had everything you needed.

A girl out on a walk is something you can see every day, yet you were unique. You walked as if you and the road had reached an agreement, as if the concrete was more than eager to support your feet.

The road understood you.

*Ping*

The light of your phone lit up as you clicked on the message.

Mom: Hey sweetie, I dropped off some food at your apartment and did some tidying up. Get home safety. 

You: Thanks mom.

Her message brought back memories of days when you and her would cook together and simply bond over the end result. You missed it. Because you live in different places, you don't get to see your parents very frequently, yet they always made time for you.

I wish you could do the same; home is just too much for you to stomach, and you'd rather avoid it.

You reach the corner street after a few more steps, ready to begin your one-mile trek home. As you look back after exhaling a sigh, you hear rumbling on your feet. An automobile approached you, its bright headlights blazing directly at you.

You shifted to the side, squinting your eyes at the sight, and wonwoo greeted you again before you realized it. He grinned at you with his dazzling whites as he bent his head down.

what is with this guy?

Hey, hop in, I'll give you a ride. It's becoming late, and I don't want you walking through here.”  As you took a step back, wary of the stranger, he moved his hand closer to you.

“Um.. No-no I’m okay. However, thank you.” As you heard his engine trailing behind you, you began to walk faster. He followed you for a few seconds longer before you came to a complete halt and stared at him.

Through the windshield, you could see him smirk as he waved his hand to you.

“It'll be a lot faster, and if you're worried I'll kidnap you or anything, don't fret. I'm allergic to cats, and I'm a cat person myself. As a result, I assure you that I will not harm you. I just wanted to help a friend.” You moved over to his car, smiled a little, and hopped in, securing yourself with your seatbelt.

“If you do anything I have some bleach and I’m not afraid to use it,” he chuckled at you as he started the car and proceeded to exit the cemetery.

“You’re funny.”

As you gave wonwoo your address he proceeded to drive out of the rural neighborhood as you put your head on the window. You didn't realize it at the time, but you could feel his penetrating glances.

The car was quiet as the low sounds of music vibrated through the car. When you weren't driving, car journeys were the best since they enabled your mind to fantasize and paint over the enormous landscape you were seeing. That haven you built in your imagination calms you and makes you feel protected. The place where you may get away from reality.

As soon as your eyes close for the night, you hear him humming a familiar tune. Rather than remaining silent, you begin a conversation with him, inquiring as to how he learned the song.

“So how did you meet Lucas?” As he laughed, he cast a peek at you.

“Well, I met him at a college party a long time ago and discovered he makes music, so we used to meet up at a friend's studio and just create.” You lightly chuckled as a tear fell down your face as you nodded your head.

It was good to hear other people talk about your other half; it was almost as if he was there with you right now.

You were worried when he gave you brief glances since his eyes were off the road, but as he spoke, you felt protected because he spoke highly of your brother.

“Well, I'm not sure if he mentioned you, but the last song we were working on was one he wrote for you, and he said it was a gift.” As you turned to face him after hearing that final statement, your eyes widened.

“He—he said those exact words, a gift?”

As he rounded the corner and approached your apartment complex building, he shook his head. You could see his shoulder resting on the window sill as he put the car in park.

You hesitantly walk out of the car, stuttering as you gather your belongings, and turn to face him.

“Thank you for the ride; did Lucas mention anything else about the song?” “He wasn't quite finished with it, but he did give me and my other friend some crucial stuff to get it done,” he said as you pressed your face closer to the window.

Your heart began to race as you realized that things were beginning to turn around for you; perhaps this wonwoo boy was destined to be in your life. Lucas' way of demonstrating that he took great care of you.

“Would you like to work on it together sometime?”

Inside, it felt as if the creatures were finally waking up from their rehabilitation and making their way into the real world. Even if it took a while, this new form of relief made you feel alive again. You were adamant about working more to reclaim your color.

In some way, wonwoo was the key to it all. 

“Yes, a hundred times yes,” you answered, smiling like a kid in a candy store as you handed him your phone. “Just let me know when you're free.”

Wonwoo returned your phone to you, which you joyfully accepted and placed in your pocket. As you walked to your door, you waved your hand at him and cried out to him one final time.

“Thank you”

“For what?” As you entered the flat and locked the door behind you, you waved your hand at him. You let out a sigh and shake your head as you slid down to the floor.

“What a day” 

---

(4 weeks later)

It seemed like you and wonwoo had entered a very unique connection in the last few weeks. He made every effort not to cross any boundaries, both physically and emotionally. Regardless of the fact that you were his closest friend's sister, he was always respectful to you.

Even if that is what he sees from his perspective, you felt more alive when you were with him. Although you could still see gray and couldn't bask in all of his glory, it gave you hope that one day, whenever that time came, you'd be able to see him and everything else.

That was something you lacked previously: hope. Everyone around you including your parents could see a significant change in your life.

--

“Hey, honey, how's it going at work?” Before taking your purse, your mother kissed your cheek and opened the door for you.

As you met her at your old house, a smile emerged on your face. It was your first visit home in a while, and seeing you there brought joy to their hearts, despite the difficult years you've had.

“Everything has been going well, and I just wanted to drop by and see how you're doing. I miss seeing you and dad.”

“Is that my beautiful daughter, am I seeing things right?” your father exclaimed as he emerged from the back. As a tear trickled down your cheek, you watched as he raced over to you and hugged you.

As he stared at your face and admired it, the hue in front of you remained gray.

“Such lovely brown eyes,"  It pained your soul that you couldn't remember what they looked like since gray dulled everything and made you forget.

“Thank you, dad, but instead of fawning me, let's play some games. Just because life is bleak doesn't mean I can't be your ass at Monopoly.”

Your mother, gasping at your remark, watched from the back, her eyes welling up with tears as she marveled at a sight she hadn't seen in a long time.

“Moooom, don't start sobbing or dad will start crying,” you said as you turned around.

She comes over to your side and wraps you and your father in a hug, sandwiching you between them. It felt good because you were missing these times with your folks. You couldn't stay at home when your brother died; you had to leave and get away. Everything was just too much for you as things started to remind you of him.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

“I'm really proud of you for coming here and having the confidence to do so. I understand how difficult it must be for you, but thank you.” Through the loud sniffles between you all, you started to feel warm as you wiped your tears.

“All right, no more crying; let's get down to business.” You dashed over to the couch and snatched up Monopoly from the board game box, motioning for them to join you. They chuckled as you began to pull everything out as they made their way over.

As loud yells and laughter echoed out throughout the home, the night was fresh and enjoyable. There were times when you were terrified you'd lose, but you couldn't let your champion status lapse.

Your mother said, "Noo, you're cheating."

“No, I'm not; there's a house there, and you need to pay up or I'll put you in jail.” Between the two, your father snickers and keeps his mouth shut. He was well aware of the rules.

“All right, but that wasn't there before.”

With a chuckle, you shook your head and held out your hand, saying, "excuses excuses."

As you turned off your alarm, it rang at 8:00 p.m. You wouldn't have realized the difference between night and day if it hadn't been for alarm clocks. You jumped up in triumph after placing one more piece on the board.

“And that's why I remain Monopoly's ruler.”

You witnessed your parents give up as they lifted their hands in surrender. They both remark, "Fine, you win," as they begin to clean up the mess. Taking the stray cups and bowls from the tables you set them in the sink as you turned to watch your parents.

It's been a long time since you've been back here, and you've certainly missed the atmosphere. Lucas wouldn't want me to miss out on this opportunity.

“Why don't I come on weekends and bring back board game nights?” As your parents turned back, you uttered, "Next time, I'll bring a friend."

“Oh, it would be wonderful; the more the better.”

As you walked back over to them, you hugged them as they kissed your head.

“You go, we'll take care of this; the drive back is long,” your father remarked as he took your bag and handed it to you.

“Thank you guys, and I love you and the night we just had.” As you approached the door, you waved goodbye before closing it.

“No thank you, love,” your mother said as she and your father watched you leave the home and get into your car.

After one last look at the house, you back out of the driveway and go down the street, looking forward to the day ahead.

Studio day!

--

You yawn as your body startles you up after taking a deep breath of fresh air. As you slowly open your eyes and look out the window, you breathe a sigh of relief. Something felt different. The chirping of the birds outside made you feel cheerful, not sad.

As your vision remained a little lighter, you began to blink your eyes faster. It wasn't your typical gray morning, and you thought it was growing lighter. The gray was gradually dissipating. You grinned as you considered your color returning.

What prompted this?

It didn't matter because today was dedicated to finishing your song; you, wonwoo, and his friend Mingyu had completed all but the title. You stretch one more time before heading to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you get to the mirror, you take a look at yourself. The person in front of you had radically transformed; she had forgotten about her flaws and insecurities, and her heart now held more love. This woman didn't pick apart everything that was wrong with her; instead, she supported herself.

She was unrecognizable, and the old girl in the mirror was finally slipping away. You began to smile more frequently and laugh a little more, and the air around you became warmer rather than frigid. Someone's love had seeped into her heart and begun to unfreeze its hardness.

And that person was wonwoo, which you didn't realize until you looked in the mirror. If you've observed it, chances are that others have as well. And you were grateful for his help in getting you out of that gloomy situation. You were able to regain your trust and begin letting people in again, which made you pleased.

Lucas would be incredibly proud of you, and you didn't want to disappoint him again. You intended to honor his memory and keep him alive in your heart, rather than allowing the past to plague you and prevent you from living your life.

He would have wanted that. 

As you stepped inside, you turned on the shower and stripped off your clothing. You had to find a method to repay wonwoo for his compassion. You would not have gotten this far without him and his musical gift, and you were grateful for him.

"I could take him to our place," you offer as you turn off the water and grab a towel from the shower.

“Yeah he would like that.”

----

Work seemed to fly by as your mind raced at a hundred miles per hour. You had everything planned out and had recruited the support of your parents to help you set up.

Your manager tapped your shoulder and asked, "Hey y/n, you okay?" As you dropped the pencil, you flinched.

“Oh sorry, just spacing out.” He shook his head as he spoke out, “For the rest of your shift you can take off if you want, we’re going to close earlier than usual. If you're leaving, clean out the coffee machine and be on your way.”

You enlarged your eyes as your jaw dropped, and you raced into his arms, squeezing him tightly. Your boss chuckled awkwardly as he gently pushed you away from him. For some reason, everything seemed to be working in your favor today. As you rush to get ready, you begin working on the machine, your smile never leaving your face.

You sped to the back room, clocking out and placing your apron into your locker, as you were done in no time. As you walked to the front, you waved goodbye to your manager before heading to your car in the parking area.

“What's the matter with her? That's the first time I've ever seen her that happy. Hmm”

And with that you were on your way to your parents house as you sent a quick text to wonwoo. As you grinned as you placed your phone in the dash holder, you came to a stop light.

You: Hey cancel today's session, I have a place to go to. It may also provide us with better title recommendations. You down??

Wonwoo:) Yes, that sounds excellent; the studio can become claustrophobic. Send me the address and a time frame for my arrival.

You: *address name*. Bring your guitar and meet there in 2 hours.

Wonwoo:) Oh okay. Can’t wait to see you there!

(read 5:45 p.m.)

Even though you weren’t nervous you wanted everything to be special, wonwoo deserved it for all that he has done for you in the past weeks.

You let yourself go as you blast songs down the road, pressing play on your playlist. You didn't notice it at first, but the color was gently sneaking in as you drove around. As creams and beige colors drifted in and out, the outsides of your eyes began to lift.

As you turned off the headlights and opened the door, it didn't take long for you to arrive at your destination. You smiled as you got your belongings from the car and made your way up the hill, finding your parents already set up.

You drop your belongings on the blanket and walk up to hug them, saying, "Hey guys." As they begin to chat with you, they embrace you in a friendly hug.

“So we set up all of the essential elements, such as lighting, a seating area, and refreshments in the cooler and basket.” As she began to indicate the various components, your mother explained. As she brought you around the hill to the tree, she took your hand in hers.

“You remember when you and Lucas did this?” You laugh as you remember that day as you place your palm on the antique carving.

-- “Noo I'd like to go first; you always go first.” You sighed as Lucas took up the knife and began carving his name into the tree.

“You better not cry and tell mom,” he remarked, turning to face you and seeing your glum demeanor. As you passed past him, you stood up straighter, rolling your eyes at him and snatching the knife from his grip.

“I'm not a baby like you,” you say. As he huffed and hurried toward mom, you heard him scoff.

“Mommmm y/n referring to me as a baby. And I'm not one of them. You stood there watching as he stomped his foot and landed on Mom's lap. Your father chuckles, rubbing his back and shaking his head at his wife.

As you return to the blanket, you cross your arms and say, "Well, then, quit acting like one."

That erupted in an outburst as he started to whine on mommy lap.

He did, in fact, act like a baby. Wiping a tear from your eyes as you chuckle, you hold your mother closer as you kiss her on the forehead.

“Hey we have an hour left before wonwoo get here, I'm going to head to the house to clean up. If he arrives early, keep him entertained.” As she watches you descend the hill, your mother shakes her head.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you put your foot down on the accelerator and drive over to your parents' house.

(45 minutes later)

Wonwoo approaches the destination, looking out the windshield as he spots some lights on the hill. As he steps out of the automobile, he notices two people moving around. He smiles as he collects his guitar from the rear and walks up the hill, noting the serene atmosphere.

“Those should go over by the tree and make sure they don't fall.” Wonwoo enters the place, his eyes widening. Fluorescent bulbs fanned out along the tops of the trees, each with a different picture on it, surrounding him.

As he looks down, he notices a blanket with a speaker playing music and the champagne.

Your parents finally turn around, gasping, when your mother rushes over to welcome him, saying, "Forgive us, we didn't hear anything, you must be wonwoo." That's y/n father over there, and I'm y/n mother.” As she introduces you to your father, she smiles and gives you a motherly look.

On this magnificent evening, only a few minutes had passed when you approached the hill once more. You take a brief glance in the mirror before applying some Chapstick. Rubbing it in you open the door as you look up on the hill, you hear conversations as you panic up the hill.

“So this is y/n, she was quite the messy twin when she was a baby-”

“What are you doing, Mom?” You walk over to her, ashamed, and place yourself between you and wonwoo, speaking quietly to her.

“I said to entertain him not embarrass me.”

“Oh, you're overthinking things; did you know he's friends with Lucas?” You chuckle as you grab your father and mother and begin bickering as you force them out of the location. As they descend the slope, they wave goodbye to you and wonwoo.

Taking one look at him, you notice his amusing state; he was cheesing so hard that his rosy cheeks were visible.

“Sorry about them.”

“It's fine; all parents do it.” They simply adore you.” You cross your legs and shake your head as you sit on the blanket, passing him a wine cup.

“To another wonderful day and a wonderful friendship.” Wonwoo takes out the champagne from the cooler as he opens it and sprays the excess in front of you.

“Ahh, you're spilling it” As you giggle at his action, the extra juice pours on your face. You reach for a napkin to wipe the wetness off your face as he takes one in front of you.

“Here, let me take care of it.” He leans in closer as he wipes the liquid from your face before resuming his seat. As your stomach begins to become a #1 gymnast, that simple action sends you spiraling.

“Th-thanks”

He smiles as he pours you a drink for both of you, and as he does so, you grab his guitar box and pry it open, admiring the golden beauty inside. Picking it up, you begin strumming a few chords of the nameless song while moving your head to the beat.

“Wow, you're actually pretty good.”

“I did have a good teacher, Lucas taught me a few things, but I only recall a few chords, so it may become irritating after a while.”

Wonwoo hands you the glass as you take it in your hand, and as you take a sip of the bubbly drink, you hand him the guitar.

As you take another sip, your spirits lift as you stare out at the scenery in front of you. You hear wonwoo begin to play the tune while you stare off towards the colorless world.

“Ruinous imagination consumes me. Makes me dream sweeter dreams, I close my eyes but thoughts of you. Bring noisy night, to you & me, real and dreamy.” 

You sway back and forth as his voice soothes your body, his palm brushing over the guitar while his eyelids close, taking in the lyrics.

As you look up at him, you say, "Thank you." It's unavoidable, but tears stream down your face with no attempt to wipe them away.

“Th-thank you foreverythingyouhave-“ you say quickly and brokenly.

“Hey hey, calm down, I can't understand what you're saying,” he says as he scoots over to you and pats your shoulder. You both laugh as you start over, this time with more poise.

“I wanted to express my gratitude to you for genuinely improving my life. You probably don't know, but my relationship with Lucas was incredible; we were never apart, and when he passed, I couldn't live without him. I've struck rock bottom a few times and done some unfathomable things that I'm ashamed of, and I'm sincerely grateful that I've survived another day.”

Wonwoo drew you into a hug and caressed your back as he ceased patting your shoulder. As you sob into his shoulder, the tears begin to flow again.

“Sorry for interrupting, but it seemed like you needed one,” he says as you continue, releasing leave of you.

“To put it simply, you have brought me so much joy and optimism that I am overwhelmed. It's not the same without Lucas, but I'm grateful you entered my life at this point. So thank you; I don't know how to express my gratitude.”

You come to a halt as he looks at you through his round spectacles, and as you become concerned, you begin to look down.

“Sorry if I just spewed all that out.”

“No, it's fine.” I truly appreciate it, and I'm glad I was able to restore a sense of hope in your life. I may not be Lucas, but I will do my best to pay tribute to his memory.

You smile as you feel a wave of self-assurance and an overpowering sensation of bravery wash over you.

When you bring wonwoo closer to you and kiss him on the lips, everything inside of you turns on, and your body begins to feel alive again, exactly like it did before.

“I'm sorry I should have asked you first-“ You release him and lean back as you watch him.

He silenced your words with his lips as his hands wrapped around your neck.

Everything comes rushing back to you in an instant, like a blanket being pulled off of you. As you open your eyes again, you let go of each other. The difference this time is that you can see him.

As he smiled at you, you could see his cheeks flush with scarlet. You can see his silver rings around his slender fingers as his hands slip away from your neck.

You slowly turn around to face the sinking light on the horizon. As if a million scarlet petals have ignited, the sunset blooms on the horizon.

You expected the tears to flow this time as you stood up and walked closer to the cliff's edge. As you stared at the gorgeous view in front of you, you undoubtedly looked a mess.

You collapse to your knees and exclaim, "I can see it!"

Wonwoo approaches you slowly, bending down with you and holding you in his arms.

“See what?”

As you held him again, your snot-filled tear-streaked face turned to his.

“The color has returned, and I can see it now.” As he gasps, he pulls you back.

“Wait, are you serious, what color shirt am I wearing?” 

“IT'S GREEN, YOUR SHIRT IS GREEN!!” Wonwoo scoops you up and spins you again in an instant. You lay another kiss on his lips as you chuckle into his lips, unsure of what to do.

The clouds floated into my life, not to bring rain or storms, but to add color to the sunset sky.

He picks up the polaroid camera off the ground and takes a candid shot of you. After he pecked your cheek once more, he smiled as he wanted to remember this special day.

You send wonwoo off to find a knife from the basket as the photo develops. You observe him as he runs around the area like a child, and you smile as the photo develops.

You've probably seen images where the background is blurred and the only thing in focus is the subject of the photograph. That was us. Every other detail became hazy as I concentrated on every facet of him.

You didn't realize how fortunate you were until now; he was the special someone you had wished for eons ago.

Everything felt even better when your color returned, and you knew deep down that everything was going to be well.

It was all because of wonwoo.

Your brother left you a gift, the lovely gift of music, which was seen via wonwoo.

Yes, your brother had been your best friend, and yes, he had left you. But, as you found a great friend, the life he presumably wanted for you had only just begun.

You hoped that with him, you would be able to treasure the love you had just as much as you did while you were together.

“Hey, wonwoo, I have a song title, also follow me.”

As he began heading toward you, he turned around and looked at you. You've both arrived at the same tree that was planted many years ago.

He gives you the knife as you start placing your name under your past self. As he watches you cry, Wonwoo does the same.

*Forever, Y/n, Wonwoo, and Lucas*

As he finishes up, you grab his hand and stroll back to the blanket setup. He takes a seat beside you and wraps his arm over your body.

“So, what are your thoughts?” 

“Bittersweet, that's the title,” you said as you turned to face him.

“I love it,” he says as he pulls you closer to him with a nod of his head.

And with that, your brother's memory was carefully preserved, shared, and intended for all to hear.

“Lucas, I'll never forget you.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[lilxberry]

Getaway B-Day B.J. - Montgomery ‘Monty’ De La Cruz*

Requested By: @vintagemac94

Thank you so much I don’t mind the wait it’s totally cool🌸. I was thinking Monty x Oc (female) Oc goes out of her way to plan a super romantic getaway for Monty’s birthday to make him feel extra special since he never had that growing up due to his childhood.

 P.s I’m not opposed to smut just saying lol🤷🏻‍♀️but I’m giving you complete creative freedom to decide whether you want to add that or not it’s your choice😘.

I didn’t do a full smutty thing but I feel like it works better like this. I hope this is what you were looking for and I apologise if it hadn’t met what you had wanted.

Also, it wasn’t really an OC since I don’t really write them. I even plan on editing works what I have written as OC’s to reader inserts, just to make things more inclusive for everyone. There wasn’t detailed descriptions of appearance within this and I certainly hadn’t added a scenario where the readers name would be said but I just thought I would clear up that it indeed wasn’t an x OC

Warnings: Language. Semi SMUT (since it was only a blowie *wink wonk*). Alludes to SMUT. A singular mention of Bryce (I mean, c’mon).

Words: 2,983

Pairings: Montgomery ‘Monty’ De La Cruz x reader (female reader)

_______________

The sun casts a warm glow, bathing the room in a soft morning orange hue, illuminating your sleeping boyfriends’ figure, highlighting those sharp features that just seem so much softer as he rests. Short, relaxed puffs of air pass through his parted lips and his chest rises and falls in a calm even manner.

A smile works its way on to your face as you admire Monty in such peace and serenity. You bring your small, dainty hand up and run it along his face, gently brushing over his cheek, jaw and bottom lip that’s pouted. Slowly working along his brows and forehead, a soft grunt forces your smile to widen uncontrollably.

His eyes flutter open, his lashes kissing his cheeks each time. With much difficulty, he manages to keep one eye lazily open, gazing at you as he squints at the light that seems all too bright for someone who is only just rousing from their slumber.

A dazed smile forms across his own lips and his chest rumbles with a chuckle. “Morning,” he grumbled, voiced still laced with sleep causing his tone to be deeper. You bit your plump bottom lip just thinking of how you could listen to that voice all day.

“Good morning, birthday boy,” you cheerily replied. His chest vibrated with a chuckle once more before closing his eye and wrapping him arm around your waist, pulling you in closer and pushing his face into your hair, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head.

You hummed in contentment as you buried your face within his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from his body. You stayed like that, wrapped up in each other, legs entangled for many more minutes before deciding to finally starting your weekend surprise for your boyfriend.

“Monty,” you cooed softly. “We gotta get up.”

Monty groaned in protest, tighten his hold on you causing you to chuckle at his childish antics. “C’mon baby, we gotta go.”

With an overdramatic huff, he released his hold on you and turned to lie on his back, throwing his left arm over his face, covering his eyes. “I thought it was my birthday. Why do we have to get out of bed, baby?” You could practically already hear the remark he’s about to say that will no doubt be accompanied by a smirk. “I know plenty of reasons to stay put.”

You shook your head and chuckled as you slapped his chest playfully. “You are insatiable.” Clambering out of bed, you already miss the warmth it provided as you made your way into the bathroom, adding an extra sway to your hips, knowing full well Monty was watching you.

“Get up or we’re going to be late for what I have planned,” you called out to him from the bathroom as you tore your, more specifically Monty’s, t-shirt off, leaving you in nothing but your underwear. Before he could retort back or ask what on Earth you had planned, you speak once more. “We still have time to shower though, if you’d like to join me,” you sung out in a sweet melody.

You heard him throw the sheets off of his body, some fumbling around, a loud thump which was followed by him cursing ‘fuck’ and rushed footsteps, causing you to giggle. He arrived in the bathroom faster than a greyhound whippet and was hasty in slamming the door shut and locking it behind him.

_______________

“How didn’t I notice a load of my clothes were missing?” Monty hollered from where he was loading up the two bags you had packed for the weekend into the trunk. His face was absolutely comical, full of confusion yet showing that he had actually been quite impressed.

You shook your head as you checked over once more that you had everything on you before closing and locking the front door to your house. “Because the only things you ever actually care to take notice of are butts, boobs, booze and baseball,” came your snarky remark.

Closing the trunk, he turned to you with the most innocent looking expression he could muster and begins to take tantalisingly slow steps towards you where he eventually places his hands upon your hips. “Only your butt and boobs though, babe.”

You snorted and pushed at his chest, walking around him to climb into the drivers’ seat of the blue Toyota Camry. Before you could place your behind on to the comfortable car seat, you heard a resounding ‘SMACK’ and felt a stinging sensation on your left ass cheek.

“OW!” you shouted, only resulting in Monty throwing his head back in hysterics as he rounds the car to get inside himself. You shake your head although the small smile that dances across your lips in enough to give away that you were anything but upset with him.

Closing the door once fully sat down, you pull your seatbelt over your torso and secure it before placing the keys into the ignition and turning to start the car. Monty had already made himself quite comfortable with the window fully rolled down and the Bluetooth of the car connect to his phone where he scrolls through his Spotify, debating which of the many songs will be blasted through the speakers first.

Releasing the handbrake and pushing down on the acceleration, you begin the 3-hour long drive to your destination where you’ll spend 3 blissful days away with your boyfriend.

_______________

About 2 minutes away from your destination, you had told Monty to close his eyes and to keep them as so until you said. Driving along, you could feel how the road had changed from smooth tarmac to a more coarse, natural trail.

Passing the final cluster of trees and emerging to right in front of where you had booked for you and Monty for the weekend, you slowed to a stop, pulling up the handbrake and turning the keys, removing them from the ignition.

“Psst, you can open them now,” your teasing whisper caused his eyes to shoot open, only for them to widen a moment later at what sat a few feet in front of you both.

A beautiful, modern wooden lodge surrounded by dense woods. It was surprisingly large, even for something that was described as small. The tenant you had rented it off had claimed that everything in and surrounding the gorgeous, homely location was at your dispense and can be used however you see fit, including the shimmering, clear lake that was a simple 9 minute walk from the lodge itself.

“I, uh, I don’t understand.” You could see the confusion on his features and his gaze alternated between you and the getaway home.

“It’s ours for the weekend, baby. Do you like it?” You bit your lip in anticipation, desperately wanting him to be happy with what you had done for him.

He nodded as he searched for words, stuttering. “I-I don’t…Why?”

“I wanted to treat you on your birthday. Plus, I get a whole weekend with you to myself so, I suppose I also treated myself.” Your smile was just as breath-taking as the lodge, he thought. In a blink of an eye, he leaned over the centre console and crashed his lips to yours, causing you to hum in appreciation.

“God, I love you,” he breathlessly whispered.

“Good, ‘cause I love you, too.”

_______________

You both were now unpacking, putting clothes away for the weekend and what food you had packed was now stored within the kitchen and large pantry along with whatever food was left for you to utilise from the tenant.

Seeing as you had been together for a solid 2 and a half years, you knew that Monty had a lack of attention and affection when it had involved not only his everyday life, but his birthday. Of course, his friends such as Bryce always had insisted on throwing him parties, massive ragers with an unsavoury amount of alcohol and an abundance of people in attendance.

But this year, you wanted it to be more meaningful, more special. You wanted your boyfriend to truly understand how important he is to you and how much you love him, although, nothing could ever actually amount to how much you do love him.

Plus, you promised Bryce and the others that they could have him for the whole weekend after, which Bryce had surprisingly agreed to quickly.

As you were folding away the last item of clothing, you felt arms snake around your waist from behind causing you to jump ever so slightly before relaxing in your boyfriends embrace. He chuckled as he buried his nose into the crook of your neck, occasionally pecking your shoulder with soft kisses.

“I never thought I’d say this but,” he started, lowering his voice to a playfully seductive whisper as he brought his lips up beside your ear. “You make doing laundry look so fucking sexy.”

You laughed as you placed the now folded t-shirt into the draw and push it close before turning whilst still in his hold, raising your hands to place them against his broad, chiselled, sun-kissed chest that’s hidden beneath a dark grey t-shirt. “Oh yeah? Just wait ‘til you see me make the bed.”

He chuckled once more, the deep sound exciting you more than it should before pulling you flush against his towering form and slowly melding his lips against yours, the speaker you had connected to earlier that was within the room quietly continues playing your music from one of your many playlists on Spotify.

Unsurprisingly, the kiss had quickly become deep and more needy. You right hand stayed firm planted upon his pec, nails slightly digging into his flesh causing him to his. You left hand had travelled upwards and began to run through his hair, tugging on it slightly as your nails occasionally rake over his scalp in a satisfying motion.

Him, on the other hand, hand allowed him to wander down over your hips, caressing the small of your back and finally finish at your round behind, firmly grasping and kneading at it, forcing you to moan wantonly which was muffled by his mouth on yours.

Your heads tilt in opposite directions, allowing the kiss to be deepened. A firm, harsh slap to your right cheek made you gasp, Monty taking that as the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue in, swirling it around yours, resulting in more moans to emit from you.

In a quick motion, Monty lowered his hands down to the back of your thighs, swiftly raising you up, your legs quickly wrapping around his waist as he walks forward, eventually setting you down atop the mahogany draws.

Separating from the kiss for a brief moment, he swiftly removed your top, leaving you in just your shorts and lace trimmed bra, your mounds now on display. Monty quick you a few more quick kisses before trailing his lips across your jaw and down to your neck, sucking at biting harshly as the soft skin that’s showcased, lapping up the areas after once satisfied with the marks he’s left, soothing the ache slightly.

Moments pass by where he continues his assault on your neck which is now littered with fresh love bites, the bright red marks that will soon transform into deep purple bruising. Once again, he moves further down and begins to ravage the mounds of flesh that isn’t covered by your bra, repeating the same actions he had done to your neck. Making quick work of unclipping your bra, the material shifts from covering your breasts, straps sliding down your arms, exposing your perked nipples to the chilled air.

Mouth forming an O shape, moans carelessly escape you, your eyes shut tight, and head thrown back. You tug at the hem of his t-shirt, signifying that you want it gone. He quickly complies, detaching himself from you again to pull it up and over his body, haphazardly throwing it to the side. You used that time separated to allow the bra to completely slip off of your arms and let it fall to the ground.

He moves back to reconnect his lips to yours, his hips rutting against your own as his hands explore every inch of exposed skin. Your left hand is back within his hair, tugging roughly as your right claws down his back causing him to groan.

Your violent, passionate, lustful kiss finally ended and all you could do was breath heavily, chest heaving, as were his. “Bed,” you rasped out. Monty, needing no further prompts, yanked you up with brute strength and dragging you over to the comfier set of furniture within the room.

Before reaching the freshly made bed, you pulled at his arm, turning him to face you before kissing him roughly once more, one hand grasping his cock through his jeans as the other begins to work on his belt and zipper. Walking him backwards, the back of his knees soon meets the edge of the mattress, forcing his to fall back and land on his back.

Just as he was about to sit up, you pushed him backwards whilst you tutted at him with a seductive, playful smirk. “Now, now, birthday boy. Time for another present.”

His eyes clouded over with lust, his eyes became lidded, and a primal groan erupted from him. Popping the buttons of your shorts, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband and began to glide the material over your hips, bum, and thighs at an antagonising pace. Once lowered enough, you release them and allow them to pool at the floor around your feet, leaving you in nothing but the lace trimmed underwear that matched your bra.

You step towards him, leaving your shorts forgotten on the floor behind you and lower yourself to your knees between his spread, jean clad legs. You slide your hands along the expanse of his thighs, dragging your nails to withdraw another groan from him. Finally reaching the waistband of his own bottoms, you grip and tug feverously, Monty lifting his lips to assist you in removing both his jeans and boxers in one swift motion.

The moment his hardened dick sprang free from its confinements and slapped against his lower stomach, he sighed in relief, his eyes fluttering close as he falls back on to the bed, legs still hung over the edge.

Grasping it within your smaller, smooth hand, you give it a few gentle tugs before kitten licking the swollen head of his cock. Monty raises himself to lean back on his elbows and observe you, breathing slightly ragged, sheets loosely balled up in his fists.

Feeling you’ve teased him quite enough, you slowly begin to take him in your mouth, inch by inch until you reach the base of his cock, the tip of your nose touching his pubic area. He grunts as you pull away, only to take him all once again. And again. You repeat the action at a steady pace as one hand rests atop his thigh for stability and the other occasionally grasping his balls for added stimulation before slowly building up momentum, his dick sliding in and out of your warm, wet mouth and hitting the back of your throat.

“That’s it, baby,” he lustfully growls as one hand comes up to fist your hair in his firm grip. You hum around his length in appreciation, sending a pleasurable vibration to his dick causing him to buck up into your mouth and tighten his grip on the sheets beside him. “Fuck.”

All too soon, your pace becomes unrelenting, chasing after his climax with vigour, eager to make him cum. Sinful sounds come from where his dick slides in and out pass your lips, your saliva coating his cock.

At this point, Monty’s heavily breathing and constantly groaning and grunting in pleasure, his hips jerking upwards, forcing you to take as much of him as you can. A few more thrusts into your sweet mouth nearly does the trick, but it’s the moment that his eyes lock with your own with your lips wrapped around him perfectly, taking him so well that finally pushes him over the edge, falling back against the mattress as his body tenses and his hips continue to thrust upwards.

You continue to suck, drawing out his orgasm and milking him dry, sending him into a state of pure euphoria. You finally release his slowly softening dick with a satisfying pop, wiping the small amount of saliva and cum that had escaped and dribbled down your chin away.

Crawling up, you straddle his hips and lay your body atop of his, giving him sweet, tender kisses along the underside of his jaw. His eyes is still closed as he finally comes down from his climax, regulating his breathing once more. “How’re you feeling baby?”

“Fucking amazing,” he breathlessly replies, cracking open his eyes slightly and giving you a lazy grin as he looks up to you now that you’ve lifted yourself to look at his flushed face.

You smile down at him, bringing your one hand up to cup his cheek and caress his cheekbone with your thumb. “Good,” you whisper against his lips before planting a slow, love filled kiss to them.

He seemed to have quickly regained his stamina during the short amount of time you both laid there as he quickly ensnares you with his arms around your waist. You look down towards him with a raised eyebrow and he grins wolfishly. “Time for my next present, baby.”

With that, he flips the two of you over eliciting a squeal of excitement and anticipation from, him now hovering over you. He nips at your neck and growls deeply causing girlish giggles to escape from you. And to think, that was only within the first hour of your weekend getaway for Montys’ birthday.

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I haven’t written for 13RW in so long

It feels even crazier that I had a request for it lmao

There isn’t much to say on this honestly

I just went with the flow, even if that flow be a bit choppy, yanno

Also, this is like the 4th request I’ve posted in the last 3 days and I’m absolutely shocked

If you’d like to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

[cuddlepilefics]

Right here

Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Jisung

Caregivers: Chan & Minho

Prompt: Sneaky temperature check @sicktember

No one’s POV.:

Jisung had started feeling off only a little after having lunch with his group. Maybe it was the food not sitting right but whatever it was, it certainly took a toll on the rapper’s mood. Earlier that day, he had fooled around with his friends, being full of energy, but the longer the day progressed, the quieter he became. The slight discomfort he had felt in his stomach earlier had turned into a painful ache that made it hard for Jisung to find a comfortable position in his seat. The entire group was currently at the studio recording but unlike usual, the rapper wasn’t really in it with his whole heart. Usually, he’d give his friends encouraging smiles and advice on how they could do better but today, he was quiet, only speaking when he was asked something. The same couldn’t be said for his stomach though, which often decided to gurgle loudly when everything around him was silent. “That really didn’t sound good, you sure you’re feeling alright?”, Chan frowned, sitting next to Jisung and hearing the younger’s stomach rumble angrily. Patting his tummy, Jisung laughed: “I feel fine actually. My tummy’s just really noisy right now.” It was only partly a lie. His stomach was indeed noisy but to be honest, he didn’t feel fine at all. The pain was only getting worse and all his attempts of playing it off had exhausted the rapper. He was ready to just go home and curl up in his bed. At least that was what he intended to do as soon as they were done here.

Towards the end of their recording session, he had had to excuse himself to the restroom multiple times, feeling increasingly queasy. However, when he got there, the feeling eased up, so he just stood there rubbing his tummy and taking deep breaths before going back to the studio. When he returned from his last trip, his members had already packed and only waited for him, so they could head back to the dorm for dinner. Jisung cringed at the thought of having to eat anything but knew he didn’t have much of a choice if he didn’t want to admit to feeling sick. Had he thrown up at all, he would probably open up to his members but since it was only a stomach ache up to this point, he’d rather handle it on his own. The ride back to the dorm was straining to say the least, as every turn of the road caused his stomach to slosh nauseatingly. Staring out of the window, Jisung rested his head against the cool glass and took deep breaths through his nose as he fought to keep his stomach in place. Cold sweat was running down his back as he flashed hot and cold.

By the time they made it to the dorm, the rapper’s shirt was sticking to his back and he unsteadily stumbled out of the vehicle, relieved to be on solid, unmoving ground again. Minho watched him stumble and linked their arms to steady his dongsaeng. Though Jisung wouldn’t admit it, he was extremely grateful for the support, not sure he would have made it up to the dorm on his own. He had to resist the urge to crouch to the ground and cradle his poor tummy when a cramp twisted his abdomen. Minho tried his hardest not to let the worry show, hearing the rapper’s pained gasp. He just hoped the boy would speak up about what was bothering him. The dancer also noted, that Jisung had gotten progressively paler over the course of the afternoon. At this point, he was certain the younger was sick but if he was, why wouldn’t he say anything?

At the dorm, Jisung made a beeline for his room, plopping down on the edge of his bed and hugging his cramping middle. It was a mystery to him how he could go from feeling perfectly fine this morning to being this miserable now. “Hey, are you okay, hyung?”, Jeongin frowned, entering their shared room. He had intended to get the older to join them for dinner but was taken a back when he found the rapper basically folded over his lap, hugging his stomach. Jisung nodded, flinching when he forced himself to sit up straight. The maknae wasn’t buying it but decided not to press on the topic, merely stating: “Dinner’s ready and Chan wanted me to get you.” – “O-Okay, ‘m coming”, the older muttered, struggling to his feet only to pale further. The room was spinning and he swayed for a moment before regaining his balance. Jeongin watched him closely, his brows furrowed. Something wasn’t right with his hyung at all. Joining their members for dinner, Jisung cringed at the smell of food. His stomach churned painfully and sweat dripped down his temple. How was he supposed to get through this without throwing his dinner right back up? The members had compiled a wide variety of food, partly left-overs from the previous day and partly take-out that the members, who finished recording first, picked up. Praying he would somehow be able to stomach it, Jisung settled for a small serving of plain rice as he considered it his safest chance.

The members knew Jisung was sick, from his odd behavior to his dinner choice to the tiny amount he ate. The rapper may have thought he was hiding his discomfort alright but anyone who knew him could tell something was up. Worried about their friend, they wanted to know what was going on, so they’d be able to help but knowing he would deny everything if they asked him directly, they just tried to push him to admitting it. It started with Chan scooping more rice onto Jisung’s plate, claiming: “I don’t want you to get hungry for midnight snacks during the night.” Jisung didn’t know how he did it but somehow, he managed to finish all of it, fully aware that he’d come to regret that decision later on. When they cleared the table, Felix hugged him from behind, feeling the rapper tense up in his arms. It took all of Jisung’s willpower to not throw up right there and he struggled to quickly remove the Aussie’s arms from his sensitive middle. He was just about to flee back to his room, when Minho pulled him to the living room. “We hadn’t had a movie night in such a long time and we don’t have to get up all that early tomorrow, so let’s have some quality time”, the dancer beamed, dragging his dongsaeng to the couch. “Hyung, I’m sorry but I’m really tired. I think I’ll just go to bed”, Jisung frowned, trying to get come up with some reason why he couldn’t spend more time with the group. Minho smiled and made the younger sit down next to him on the couch, promising: “You can lay on my lap. It’s no problem if you fall asleep halfway through but I really missed you, so please…”

Jisung really couldn’t bare hurting his hyung’s feelings, so he let himself be talked into watching a movie with the rest of the group. Taking Minho up on his offer, he had his head on the dancer’s lap, while the older played with his hair. Maybe it had been the right decision because it distracted him from his pain enough to fall asleep. When Minho was sure Jisung was out completely, he whispered: “Chan-hyung, could you get me a thermometer? His face feels pretty warm. The forehead one would be best because the ear one would probably wake him.” – “On it”, the leader agreed, quietly getting up and collecting the thermometer from the bathroom. When he returned, Minho had already brushed Jisung’s bangs out of his face to allow the oldest easier access to his forehead. Chan carefully approached them and quickly took his dongsaeng’s temperature, detecting a moderate fever. Just when he pulled the thermometer away, Jisung’s stomach gurgled loudly, confirming their suspicions further. “We should really get him to bed”, Chan sighed, “Can you help me, Min?” The dancer nodded and got up as soon as Chan had picked the rapper up from the couch. Minho went ahead, opening the door to Jisung’s room and folding back the blanket. They tucked their dongsaeng in and closed the door, so he could rest undisturbed.

The next time Jisung woke up, it was already after midnight. The dorm was dark and quiet, the members all except for Jisung sleeping soundly. At first, the rapper was confused as to what had woken him at such an early hour. Flushing hot, he felt his stomach twist and quickly pushed off the blanket. Jisung staggered to the bathroom, one arm protectively wrapped around his middle, as he fought off the nausea. He squinted, blinded by the bright bathroom light, feeling disoriented as he crashed to his knees in front of the toilet. A harsh but unproductive retch tore from his throat, making the boy shudder at the thought of what was to come. Sweat trickled down the rapper’s back as he knelt there, swallowing convulsively. He couldn’t be sick. Jisung crossed his arms over the toilet bowl and rested his forehead on them, drawing a shaky breath through his nose. He hated throwing up, so much so, that he was determined to fight it off with every ounce of energy he might have left. Another cramp had him cry out in pain, quickly silencing himself by biting his lip. He couldn’t wake anyone else up. In a desperate attempt to get some relief, Jisung slipped his hand under his shirt, gently drawing circles with his palm. He could feel the upset organ churn under his hand as his mouth started to water even more. Squeezing his eyes shut, he gagged hard, relieved when nothing came up. There was no way he’d let this happen.

Waking up to an empty room, Jeongin waited ten minutes for his roommate to come back. When he didn’t, the maknae decided to search for Jisung. He spotted light under the bathroom door and gently tapped his fingers against the wood. When there was no answer, he quietly opened the door and found the missing rapper curled up on the rug. Though he was asleep, his brows were furrowed in pain as his forehead glistened with sweat. Knowing this wasn’t good, Jeongin went to wake up Chan, who was up in an instant when his dongsaeng explained what was going on. “Why don’t you sleep here, Innie? I’ll take care of Jisung but you don’t need to lose more sleep, so I’ll just stay in your and Jisung’s room, okay?”, the leader offered. Still feeling sleepy, Jeongin nodded and got comfortable in Chan’s bed, while the older went to check on the sick rapper. He found the boy curled up on the bathroom rug, just like Jeongin had described and he really didn’t look good. Jisung’s face was way too pale for Chan’s liking and his bangs clung to his sweaty forehead. Not having the heart to wake his dongsaeng, he carefully brushed his hair out of his face and placed his palm across his forehead, shocked to find it burning.

Just as he was contemplating how he was going to get Jisung back to bed without waking him, Minho stumbled into the bathroom. He didn’t know what had woken him but was soon certain it had been his intuition, telling him his dongsaeng wasn’t doing too well. “Hyung?”, he questioned, startling Chan, “What’s going on?” – “I don’t know. Innie found him like this and I was just about to get him back to bed”, the leader sighed. They were both startled when Jisung curled up further, whimpering in pain. Minho knelt down next to him and nudged his shoulder, frowning: “Sungie, hey? What’s wrong?” – “Stomach’s killing me”, the younger muttered, still half-asleep. “Did you throw up?”, Chan asked as the rapper became more awake. Jisung shook his head, admitting: “Felt like it but didn’t.” Sitting up, he drew his legs closer to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. Taking a closer look at him, now that the boy was awake, Chan frowned: “How long have you felt like this?” – “Hm, kinda started after lunch. Might have eaten something wrong”, Jisung mumbled, closing his eyes again. Minho ran a comforting hand down the rapper’s back, cringing in sympathy when he felt how sweat-soaked his shirt was. “Sung, I don’t think it has anything to do with what you ate”, the dancer hummed, “You’re running quite a temperature, so I think you must have caught some kind of bug. Do you feel ready to go back to bed?” – “’m so tired, I think I’ll just sleep here on the floor”, the younger refused, keeping his eyes closed. While Minho tried to convince Jisung to go back to his room, Chan sighed: “Oh dear! I’ll grab the puke bucket and thermometer.”

After lots of convincing, Minho helped Jisung to his feet, only to have the boy bend over, hugging his middle as his stomach cramped up again. “It’s okay, just try to breathe through the pain”, the dancer hummed, resting his hand on Jisung’s shoulder. The rapper shook his head urgently, choking out: “Hyung, I don’t feel so good.” Sighing, Minho was quick to get his dongsaeng situated on his knees in front of the toilet. He could tell the younger was fighting his hardest to keep it together but couldn’t help let a tear fall down his feverishly flushed cheek. “Sungie, just let it up. I’m pretty sure you’ll feel better after getting this over with”, Minho whispered, crouching down next to the rapper. Shaking his head, Jisung grit his teeth. “Come on, if it’s making you feel this bad, it would be better to get it out than keep it in you”, the older sighed but Jisung refused: “Don’ wan’ to. Hate it.” He instantly pursed his lips, barely able to swallow back a gag. “I know it’s no fun but I don’t think you’ll feel better like this, Sung. Just get it over with and I’ll help you back to bed, so you can sleep it off”, Minho promised, running a hand through the boy’s sweaty hair. Drawing in a shaky breath, Jisung pleaded quietly: “W-Will you rub my back?” – “Of course, I’ll rub your back”, the dancer whispered back, placing his hand on his dongsaeng’s damp shirt and gently stroking up and down his spine.

Assured by the presence of his hyung right beside him, Jisung’s resolve slowly crumbled. The next time his stomach clenched, he coughed up a large wave of his meager dinner. He was really glad he had settled for something bland to eat because he couldn’t bare tasting it again. Jisung didn’t have too much time to dwell on it, lurching over the bowl as more sick shot past his lips. He shuddered in disgust, feeling Minho squeeze his shoulder before going back to rubbing his back. Just as the next wave splattered into the bowl, Chan walked in to check on the two. He had waited in Jisung’s room after setting it up with a bucket, a bottle of water and a cup of tea on the nightstand. “Make it stop”, the rapper choked out before getting sick again. Minho calmly promised: “Just hang in there, it’s almost over.” Cooing at the dancer’s rarely showing protective side, Chan grabbed a washcloth and ran it under cool water. “Min’s right, you’re almost there, Sung. You’re okay”, the Aussie smiled, laying the cool cloth across Jisung’s neck. The boy only whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He hated this.

After a while, it didn’t seem like he could bring anything else up, although his stomach still hurt. He just wanted to sleep. “Let’s go to bed”, Minho cooed, getting up to help Jisung up too. The younger only groaned, resting his head on his arms. He just wanted to sleep, no matter where. Patting the rapper’s back, Chan laughed lightly: “Come on, Sungie. Your bed is much comfier. I’ll even carry you there if you manage to stand up for a second.” Blinking at the leader with teary eyes, Jisung pouted but took both of his hyungs’ hands and let them pull him to his feet. With how dizzy he suddenly felt, he didn’t manage to stand for longer than a second but it was enough for Chan to scoop him up bridal-style and like he had promised, the leader carried him back to bed. “Do you want to have some water?”, Minho offered, uncapping the bottle for his dongaseng. Jisung frowned but accepted a few sips, just to wash away the taste. Sitting down on Jeongin’s bed, Chan reminded: “The bucket’s right next to your bed. Don’t hesitate to wake us up if you feel sick again, yeah?” Jisung nodded, curling up under his blanket. He was surprised when Minho climbed into bed behind him. The dancer knew he was taking a high risk but his heart ached for his sick dongsaeng, so he wanted to give him as much comfort as humanly possible. “It’s alright”, Minho whispered, slipping his hand under Jisung’s shirt, “Let me rub your tummy and try to get to get some rest. Hyungs are right here.”

[smcc212]

Shelby Meets Solomons

Pairings- Thomas Shelby x Solomons! Male reader

Word count- 1,966

Warnings- internalised homophobia, fluff, ooc Tommy, smut-anal, kinda hand-job? Not proofread. I think that’s it, let me know if I missed any.

A/N- Thank you, @follow-donttelltheelf-x for requesting some Tommy Shelby x male reader. I’ve actually wrote two Tommy x male reader fics. I’ll tag you in both. By the way, I’m sorry if I missed up the tag, I have dyslexia so it took me awhile to understand it-hope I got it right. Anyways, Enjoy!!

A Shelby and Solomons. A doomed love if there ever was such a thing. But, Thomas couldn’t help falling for (Y/N). He was nothing like his brother, the only thing they had in common was their name and their accent.

They met for the first time in Alfie’s office. Thomas and Alfie has just made a new deal when (Y/N) came storming in.

“Fuck sake, Alfie! Will you stop having your fucking men follow me everywhere!” He shouted, he knew Thomas was there but he didn’t care. He was pissed. All he wanted was to have a somewhat normal life, but he couldn’t do that when he had Alfie’s men trailing behind wherever he went.

“(Y/N), this can wait,” Alfie spoke sternly, glaring at his little brother.

“No, it fucking can’t! I can’t live a normal life when there are randoms following me around!” Thomas just stared at (Y/N). That part of his mind he’d worked so hard destroy rebuilding itself as he looked at the younger man. He wasn’t much younger, he looked about thirty. As the Solomons brothers continued to argue, Thomas’ eyes took in all of (Y/N). He was a strong, handsome man and Thomas couldn’t help but let himself wonder what (Y/N) Solomons looked like beneath his shirt.

They met for the second time when Thomas went to visit Ada, his sister. He stopped on the threshold on the drawing room, shocked to see the Solomons brother that had plagued his mind with thoughts he’d fought his entire life to ignore.

“Tommy, this is (Y/N).” Ada smiled at her brother who continued staring at the young man. “Fuck sake, Tom. He’s not interested in me... or girls of any kind,” mirth laced her words.

“Ada!” (Y/N)’s eyes widened, darting back and forth between Ada and Thomas.

“Come down, Tommy doesn’t care. He sure as hell won’t go to the police.”

“(Y/N).” Thomas cleared his throat before extending his hand out towards (Y/N). “I’m Thomas.”

“Have we met before, Thomas?”

“I’m in business with your brother I believe.” Thomas’ heart was racing as he looked at the younger man, but on the outside he looked his normal cold, calculated self.

“Ah, so you’ve had the misfortune of meeting Alfie. I promise I’m nothing like him,” (Y/N) chuckled nervously, not only had Ada revealed his biggest secret, but she’d revealed it to someone that knew his brother. He’d never told Alfie,he never planned on telling Alfie. Alfie was the only family he had left, he couldn’t lose him.

“Will you let me talk to my sister, alone for a moment?” Thomas asked, he could see Ada adding everything up in her head.

“Of course,” (Y/N) spoke, his eyes trailing along Thomas’ body before he left the room, left the siblings alone.

“So,” Ada began, “‘re you gonna tell me what that was about?” She asked pointedly.

“What are you talking about, Ada?” Although he maintained his calm appearance, Thomas had never been more scared in his life.

Ada took a deep breath, recognising his fear. “Tom, I know we’ve had our differences, but your still my big brother and I’ll always love you no matter what. You know that don’t you?” Her voice had softened, as had her eyes, she needed her brother to know that she’d love him no matter what; she just hoped Thomas would understand.

“Yes, Ada. I’m aware.” Thomas’ could hear his heartbeat in his ears, could feel bile rises into his throat, feel sweat gathering on his back as his breathing started to pick up.

“So, you know I’ll love no matter what, right?”

“What’s your point, Ada?”

“You introduced yourself as ‘Thomas’, no one outside the family calls you that. And, you let him check you out. Tommy, do you... y’know... like men?” She spoke softly, placing a loving hand on your brother’s shoulder. “I don’t care if you do,” She quickly added, “and I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to.”

He tried to talk, but his tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He nodded, so softly it was almost unnoticeable.

“Okay,” Ada said slowly, nodding her head.

“Okay?” Thomas repeated, his eyebrows furrowing. His fear never leaving him.

“Okay,” Her voice was firmer this time. “And, I’m guessing, you fancy (Y/N) at least a bit.”

“For fuck sake, Ada, keep your bloody voice down. He’s in the next room,” Panic was thick in his usually cold voice.

“Tom, (Y/N) likes men too, you idiot. And know that I think about it, I think you’re the ‘good-looking bloke that was in Alfie’s office the other day’.” She smiled, she hadn’t seen her brother act nervous since before the war.

“I wasn’t the only person visiting Alfie that day, don’t be stupid. Anyway...”

*

(Y/N) couldn’t stop himself, he knew it was wrong, but he listened in to Ada and Thomas’ conversation. He hadn’t forgotten Thomas’ face, how could he? Thomas was beautiful. His ocean blue eyes. His chiseled face. His jet black hair. His... everything.

He asked Alfie who he was, but all Alfie said was: ‘don’t get involved with him, (Y/N).’ But (Y/N) wasn’t known for following Alfie’s orders, why should he start now?

When Thomas started to talk to Ada about business, (Y/N) stopped listening. When he heard Thomas walking out the door, however, he jogged out to catch him. He’d never been more scared in his life, his heart was racing as he spoke:

“Thomas.”

“Yes?”

“Erm... I-I was wonderin’ if ya’d, maybe, wanna get a drink sometime?” It came like a question, (Y/N)’s nerves getting the better of him.

“Well... alright, I’ll... call Alfie I guess.” Thomas tried his best to seem calm and collected, but the excitement in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by (Y/N) not Ada.

“Right, well, erm, okay. See you later I guess,” (Y/N) spoke, instantly kicking himself for sounding like an idiot.

“Okay,” Thomas chuckled. “Goodbye, (Y/N).”

“Goodbye, Thomas.”

*

They met for the third time when Thomas came to his house.

“Hey,” (Y/N) mumbled as he opened the door, his nerves eating him alive. It didn’t help that his brother was glaring at his date.

“Hello, (Y/N). Ready to go?” Thomas asked, his voice clear and firm.

“Aye. See ya, Alf,” He exclaimed before shutting the door behind him.

“It was kinda difficult to find a place we could go,” (Y/N) began, “I mean there’s clubs but someone might recognise you, so, I thought we could go somewhere more... private. Only if you’re okay with that,” He added quickly.

“Where is this ‘more private’ place?” Thomas inquired. He didn’t want anyone to see him, but he was also aware that he was going on a date with Alfie Solomon’s brother, so, he was wary.

“There’s a spot near by that’s isolated at night, it’s just over there-“ He pointed to the north-east.

“Alright.” Thomas nodded.

They sat there talking to each other for hours, getting to know one another-jobs, interests, aspirations, family, friends, and everything in between. Both men, for the first time since France, could feel butterflies in there stomach as they slowly inches closer towards one another. Hearts race as lips brush together.

*

The first time the family found out about the relationship was after Arthur saw Thomas and (Y/N) together. They were careless, sharing a moment of passion in Tommy’s office when Arthur walked in to see them with their tongues down each other’s throat. He whipped around to tell the rest of Shelby/Grey clan. Thomas and (Y/N) rushed after them.

Ada knew, and Polly didn’t seem fazed, the boys, however, all looked perplexed.

“Well, what’re gonna say, Tom?” Arthur grumbled, but a wave of worry flushed through his words.

“What do you what me to say, Arthur?” Thomas asked rhetorically before clearing his throat, “everyone, this is (Y/N) Solomons, my boyfriend.” At the mention of ‘Solomons’ the full family-except for Thomas and Ada- went wide eyed, staring at Thomas as though he was an alien.

“Thomas,” Polly began. “Did you say he’s a Solomons?” She asked in disbelief.

“Yes. He’s Alfie’s younger brother, but he’s nothing like him. He has nothing to do with Alfie’s business.” (Y/N)’s eyes darted back and forth between the family members. He was terrified. But he had to stay strong for Tommy, for the man he loved.

“Tommy’s right. I ‘ave nothin’ to do with my brother’s business. I’m nothin’ like him.” He takes a breath. “I love Tommy, I wouldn’t let my brother stop me being with him and I won’t let you. (Y/N) mentally kicked himself for saying that, but then Polly smiled.

“You’re gonna fight the Peaky blinders to be with him, eh?” Polly asked, mirth tracing her words. (Y/N) gulped. Took in a deep breath.

“Yes. I would,” He spoke with his chest. Arthur stepped forward, but Polly grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“I trust him,” She spoke.

“You what?” Arthur spat.

“Call it gypsy intuition, we can trust him. We’ll still keep an eye on him, just to be sure, but for now, we can trust him.” (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief, as Polly smiled at him. Then Thomas decided to speak.

“If any of you have a problem with my relationship, keep it to yourself. Speak of it and I’ll have to shoot you, family or not.” Everyone in that room knew he wasn’t lying and agreed.

“Very good. Back to work then.” Tommy grabbed (Y/N) hand, dragging him upstairs to his old bedroom.

“Tommy,” (Y/N) giggled, “you can’t be serious.” Tommy looked at him, his eyes blown with lust.

“Deadly, my love.” (Y/N) fell back on the bed, Thomas climbing over the top of him, leaning down to capture his lips. As their tongues danced, they tore at each other’s clothes. Tommy kissed his collarbone down to chest before moving back to his lips. (Y/N) lifted up his hips, sliding down his trousers and boxers. Tommy did the same.

Tommy warms up some oil in his hands, before carefully pushing one finger inside of (Y/N), working him open while sloppy kisses were shared between the two.

Eventually, Tommy rubbed a generous amount of oil over his cock before gently rocking into (Y/N). Low groans filled the room as Tommy starts to softly thrust. One hand grabbing ahold of (Y/N)’s cock, jerking it while his hips pick up speed. Lewd slapping noises fill the room, along side pants and moans.

“I love you,” Tommy mumbled breathlessly into (Y/N)’s neck as they both chase their highs.

“I love you too.” (Y/N)’s about to speak again when the coil within him snaps, eyes rolling back as he comes onto his stomach. Tommy isn’t fair behind. A few more sloppy thrusts and he’s crying in ecstasy as he fills (Y/N) up. Using the last of his strength, Tommy carefully pulls out, rolls onto his back, and pulls (Y/N) into his chest.

As they catch their breath, the door opens and in walks the one and only Finn Shelby.

“Tom, I-“ He cuts himself off as he takes in the sight in front of him. “Erm, shit, sorry, Tom,” He stammers, turns, and walks out, slamming the door shut behind him. Tommy turns to (Y/N) and opens his mouth to speak, but he’s interrupted by his younger brother bellowing through the house: “Stay outa Tom’s room, he’s got company!”

“For fuck sake,” Tommy groaned.

“We know, Finn,” Ada shouted.

“Tom! You takin’ it or givin’?” John asked. (Y/N) giggled at Tommy’s exasperated face.

“I’m gonna kill my own fucking family. If they don’t shut the fuck up,” Tommy complained.

“Aww, you poor baby,” (Y/N) cooed, placing a kiss on his lips and cuddling into him. “Can’t wait for Hanukkah, slash, Christmas this year. Should be great fun.”

“Oh fuck.”

[n0wornever]

First Touch - Luke Patterson x Reader

Luke x reader - it’s the scene where Julie talks to Luke before the Orpheum show but instead it’s the reader planning to tell Luke how she feels before he “passes over”

(gif is not mine)

She knew she’d regret the decision as soon as she made it. 

But as she paced back in forth in my room, hands tingling, she knew that there was no way that I could see his face again that night. After Luke had lied to her face for weeks about their fate, Julie was the one who had to come into her room last night and tell her exactly what would happen. The words clung onto her chest, making it hard to breathe as they nibbled at the surface. What really hurt was the fact that the boys didn't have the guts to tell her themselves.

“So you’re telling me that they have to leave no matter what?” 

Julie nodded, placing her hand on the girl’s thigh. She could feel that there were tears already brimming in her eyes, but when she looked over to Julie’s glossy reflection, she completely lost control. 

“Why didn’t they tell me? Why did you all keep this a secret?” 

She could feel her voice raise in intensity as her mouth spat the question, causing Julie’s shoulders to tense. She grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently to soothe the aggression she just caused. This was not her fault Y/N, remember that. Julie’s shoulders fell back down as she began to to speak again.

“Luke told them not to. He said you’d be better off finding out later,” Julie’s thumb rubbed against the skin by my knee, a calming technique she’d picked up from our mother. “But I couldn’t hold it in anymore, you deserve to know.” 

I pointed her face to the ceiling, hoping that the ceiling fan above me could do its best to dry the tears flattened against the surface of my face. I had always thought that Luke had cared about me, maybe not to the level that I cared about him, but enough to be let in on his disappearing act. Luke had no reason to hide this from her. 

“Why would he want to keep this from me?” she finally asked, wiping a fresh tear from my face. “Wouldn’t he want me to say goodbye?”

Julie sighed, rocking their hands back and forth. Y/N had always told her that her silence was wide enough to draw fear from even the strongest person. It swelled with intention, and hesitation. The girl cleared her throat before repeating the question. Julie chewed on her bottom lip before finally speaking up.

“It’s complicated Y/N, you should ask him yourself.” 

Of course she’d encourage healthy conversation. She groaned as she fell onto her back on the bed below her. Julie followed suit, nestling her head in the crook of her sister’s neck, snuggling to her side. 

Now it was the night of The Orpheum show and she still hadn’t tried to find Luke throughout the week. In fact, she instead avoided rehearsals all together. Every afternoon Julie would knock on the door and ask her the same question. 

“Are you doing it today?” 

She’d shake my head, pushing my glasses back onto the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Julie would lean in the doorway with wide eyes, but Y/N would just shake my head before returning back to her notebook. As the door closed, she’d finally let herself breath evenly again.

She was writing to him. 

Two people can play this avoidance game, so she decided that she was going to stoop as low as he did and avoid confronting him in person. Instead, she hatched a plan to leave him a note in the pocket of his flannel before he left for him to read wherever he was. There was so much that she had to say, she just wanted to make sure she got it right. More importantly, she wanted to wait until the last moment so that he had to sit with it.

Yes. It was harsh, but as she sat there with boiling tears streaming down her cheeks she couldn’t just sulk with the feeling any longer. She had been the vulnerable one this whole time. Never pushing him when it came to talking about his parents, but opening up to him about her mother. Not forcing him to give her hints about new music, but brushing away his constant need to climb into her room weekly to peek into her lyric notebook. 

She understood why his walls were up, and he understood that he did the stupid things he did because he cared about her. But this, this was the last straw. She could not simply let him walk away from her forever without letting him know that his actions caused her pain. 

The idea of explaining the connection of what she felt when she was with him seemed exhaustive. It was months and months of moments that had spiraled out of my control until I had fallen completely into him. So I decided to start from the beginning, but to keep it short. The letter began with the moment that I had stumbled on Julie talking to herself in the garage. 

Her pen hovered over her own name at the bottom of the page for a moment. She moved the utensil up to the top of the the scribbled handwriting with clear purpose. She began to scratch out the first line of text but paused again as the ink hit the paper. Dropping the grey tube onto the surface below, she brought her hand up to the top of the crease and tore out the page. She folded into a perfect square before taking a deep breath. 

As the pressed the seam one last time, she heard her father call her down the stairs for dinner. She leaned back to lift the pillow up off of the top of her bed, placing the piece of paper on the pastel yellow sheets below before setting the it back down. She sighed once more before lifting herself off the best and making her way to the door. 

As soon as the girl turned the corner, Luke poofed into the room. He looked around for any sign of her, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Giving up, he fell onto her bed, bouncing everything in around in his vicinity. The pillow below his head was obviously one that Y/N used regularly, his head falling closer to the surface of the mattress than he’d like. 

Lifting his head off of the feathered material, moving to a seated position. He leaned backward, grabbing the square with both hands and raising it up. His eyes fell from the mint cover to a small square back on the bed. Luke threw the pillow to the left, hands reaching for his new object of interest. He looked to the left and right before unraveling the note. 

His eyes soared across each line with ease. The skin on his bottom lip tearing away from his mouth as he dug into it. His gaze lingered on a particular word at the end. 

Loving.

His first thought was to lash out at Julie for betraying their promise, but it was shortly replaced by his need to get to Y/N. His fingers gripped the paper tightly at his chest as he took a deep breath. As he sat still, he began to hear footsteps in the distance. Jumping in place, Luke frantically worked to get the paper folded back down to its original square shape. He replaced the pillow and then rose to a standing position. With a snap of his fingers, Luke was out of the room without a word. 

Julie spun into the room, humming to herself as she walked toward the bed. Scrunching her brow in confusion, she leaned her head out the door.  

“Where did you say your glasses went?” She yelled loudly down to her sister.

“They should be on my bed!” Y/N yelled back in annoyance.

Julie rolled her eyes as she turned onto her heels and re-entered the room. She couldn’t see the clear frames anywhere on the soft comforter. As she inched closer, she began to lift things out of the way to make her search easier. As she lifted the pillow on the righthand side, a small piece of paper flew at her chest. Dropping the soft rectangle onto the bed, she leaned down to the floor to pick it up.

She unfolded it slowly and carefully. As it unraveled, she began to read the words on the page. Her eyes fell left to right hastily as she got increasingly angry. She locked her jaw as her gaze fell onto the line that said ‘you are a coward, Lucas Patterson.’ She had to admit, her sister had a talent for writing something brash and harsh in the most poetic way imaginable. 

“Hey did you find,” Julie’s hands collapsed around the paper at the sound of the voice. “What are you doing.” 

Turning to face her awaiting punishment, she saw that her sister’s face was already redder than the fireplace in their living room. Her hands were balled at her hips as she began to march toward the younger girl loudly. Julie arm swung around her back to hold the paper out of reach as her sister entered her personal bubble.

“I asked you to find my glasses, not to snoop through my things.”

Julie straightened her torso, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the older girl with shaking shoulders. She knew her sister could knock her flat out in a minute, but she had to speak her mind before it was trampled to the ground. 

“And I asked you to talk to Luke in person,” She brought the paper back out to her chest. “This, this is cowardly Y/N.” 

Her sister was visible vibrating with anger at this point. Y/N let out an anguished grunt, squeezing her fingers against her palm. But within a second, Julie heard the sound of crying come from the other side of the room. She rushed over to her sister’s side, catching her falling shoulders in her arms. She walked the girl over to the bed, sitting next to her on the edge. 

Julie rubbed her hand against Y/N’s knee, soothing her with light singing as she settled her tears. Finally raising her eyes back up to meet Julie’s, Y/N chewed helplessly at her bottom lip. 

“This whole time Jules, this whole time I’ve waited for him to be honest and truthful with me.” She sighed as a hand grazed against her raw cheek. “And he couldn’t even do it to say goodbye. I don’t even know what the point there is in talking to him. I know I’ll never get the truth.”

Julie stayed silent for a moment, listening to her sister’s sharp breaths. Her hand tapped against her skin a few times to gain her attention. Y/N’s bloodshot eyes met hers again.

“I know. I know that it’s been difficult,” Julie said looking right into her eyes. “Luke isn’t an easy person to talk to. But I cannot stand here and let you wallow forever without the possibility of speaking your mind. I know how heavily that weighs on you. Sure, you cannot control what he says, but I feel like you DESERVE to speak your mind to his face and breath easier at night.”

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t speak. What could she possibly say at this point. She knew Julie was right, but her anxiety weighed her body down like a cinderblock sat straight on her chest. The racing thoughts were cut off by her father yelling for Julie from the first floor. 

“It’s not too late for you to come to the show tonight,” Julie reminded her. 

“Maybe,” Y/N replied softly, keeping her eyes toward the window.

She heard the boxspring creak as Julie got up from the bed, and the door swing shut as she walked out of the room before she looked to her right. She couldn’t cry again. There’d been too many tears that night already. Instead, she rolled onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with the note to her chest. 

****

She woke up in a cold sweat. Leaning over to her left she saw that the clock said 8:30 p.m. She was too late. She couldn’t put the note in his pocket before he left, and she couldn’t say the words to his face either. 

He was gone. 

Y/N sighed to herself as she got up out of bed and leaned forward to turn on the lamp. Looking out the window, she stared at the garage with wide eyes. If she couldn’t say goodbye to him in person, she’d at least say it out loud, hoping, praying that maybe he’d hear it out there somewhere. 

She threw on her jean jacket before walking toward the door. Closing it behind her carefully, she raced down the stairs and out the back door. The sound of crickets and nearby sprinklers were the only noise to fill the air as she walked the short distance to the practice space.

As she entered the dingy, dark space she flipped on the lightswitch. As the soft yellow hue filled the room, she brought her hand out to her back pocket. Bringing the now deformed note into her hands, she quickly untangled it. She cleared her throat before beginning to speak. The shake in her throat note waiting long to appear.

“Luke,

The moment I met you, I thought that I’d absolutely hate you. My sister made me sit on the couch as called all three of you to appear. I remember meeting those bright green eyes and knowing exactly what they were capable of. But as the smile grew across your face, I knew I was a wasn’t a match for them.

You could have made it easy for me. Left it as a simply, fleeting crush entirely based on looks. However, you had to go and make me feel your presence. After the performance, Julie expected you all to disappear out of sight for me, but after the last note fell from my sister’s lips....you stayed.

I knew at that moment that we’d have a problem. You had the ability to be there at a moment’s notice. You, being as inquisitive as always, found your way up to my room every night. You, lacking the ability to be subtle, would spend that time drilling me with questions. You forced me to know you.

You were no longer a figment of my sister’s grief, you were a permanent structure in mine.

I didn’t ask you to listen to the lyrics I’d written the last time I had to say goodbye. I didn’t ask you to run to my side before my tears had dried over some stupid test or audition. You brought yourself there every single time.

I cannot believe that you would leave without telling me. I cannot believe that you’d choose to never see me again instead. You’re a coward, Lucas Patterson. A spineless coward.

I’ll never forgive you for making me feel. I’ll never forgive you for making me dream again. I’ll never forgive you for ripping that all away from me at a moment’s notice.

But I’ll never regret loving you.

- Y/N”

The sound of her name on her own tongue felt almost as painful as the knot lodged in her throat to hold back her tears. She refolded the paper, eyes staying forward, set on the darkness that surrounded her. She waited another moment before turning around. 

Her walk back to the house was cut short by a hoarse voice exposing itself to the light.

“Y/N?”

She stopped cold in her tracks, turning around on her tiptoes. There he stood in front of her, swollen and pale as ever. Her anger turned right to worry as she took several steps toward him with wide eyes. She leaned her head to the side, shaking it back and forth.

“What- how are you,” She scrunched her nose in confusion. “How are you here?”

“The Orpheum,” He began, already losing the race with his breath. “Wasn’t our unfinished business. So we came here to wait it out until sunrise. We didn’t want to worry Julie.” 

“Should I even be surprised that you’re side-stepping yet another conversation?” 

Luke bit down on his bottom lip, arm reaching out to touch her for a moment before his brain reminded him that he couldn’t reach her even if he wanted to. She took a step back, crossing her arms at her chest.

“The nerve you have, Luke Patterson,” She rolled her eyes at him. “To not even have the guts to properly say goodbye to Julie. She’s the one who brought back your love for music. She’s the one who put herself on the line for you with out dad, our friends and everyone else. And you repay her by LYING TO HER? I’m not even upset about what you did to me anymore.”

“Y/N,” His voice strained, his eyes boring into her. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Well you did.” 

Luke ran his hands through his hair, sighing. As his head rose back up, he held his stomach in his hand as he made his way toward her. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve never had anyone who’s put me first. I’ve always forced their in front of my own,” He started, a small smile on my face. “What was I supposed to do with a stubbornly perfect girl who forced me to give in?” 

Y/N held her gaze to the sky, tightening her hands around herself. His eyes stayed on her as he took a few small steps forward, standing right in front of her. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I was leaving,” His words bringing her watering eyes back to his face. “I just knew I couldn’t take staring at that exact look in your eyes.” 

He shook his head at her, tears streaming from his face now. “I love you, so much, Y/N. I never want you to hurt because of me. I was selfish and cruel, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t even think of the consequences. Again. I’m an idiot and I’m selfish but I am, so in love with you and I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s lips parted as she gasped at those last words. Y/N fell back a bit in shock, tripping over her own feet. Luke rushed toward her, arms wrapping around her waist before she could hit the ground. Silence filled her air as she tried to understand what was happening.

Her brought her back up to a standing position, bringing one hand up to her face. His fingers grazed harshly against her cheek as he pulled her into him. He heard her open her mouth to speak, but crashed his lips against hers before she could get a word out. 

The room filled with color as their lips moved together harmoniously. Y/N was the first to pull back first, eyes falling around his features for a moment before her hand reached out to touch his face.

“I feel stronger,” Luke said in a gruff voice. 

“What just happened?” Y/N asked just above a whisper. 

Luke tightened his grip around her hips, pulling her closer to him. He shook his head rapidly before letting out a giggle. 

“I don’t know, but I just want to do that again.

His lips fell onto hers at once, Y/N melting into his touch instantly. They moved in sync for a moment before pulling away. Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. 

Y/N heard grumbling coming from the corner of the room. Turning to her left, she saw Alex and Reggie stumbling toward them. Alex held a pinched expression as he leaned against the piano.

“We don’t have to make out with her too, do we?” 

Y/N leaned against Luke’s chest in a fit of laughter, feeling him join her as his chin rested on her head. 

.

.

.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals , @anythingandeverythingfandom , @crybabyddl  @themaddies-obx , @lukeys-giggle , @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye  @marinettepotterandplagg , @lolychu , @bathtimejish , @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance​ , @txrii  @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey  @epikskool​  @bookfrog247​ @carleywhittaker​ @princessvader15​ @charliesmountains​ @spooky-season-bitch​  @kcd15​  @meangirlsx​ @itz-jas​ @parkeret​ @writerinlearning​ @calamitykaty​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @thesweetestsinner​  @kinda-really-lost​

[ikeromantic]

The Greatest Harm

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction, approx. 1700 words - this scene takes place around the mid-point of Ch. 12 in the romantic route!

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Unexpected Gifts

Kennyo stood in the doorway for a moment, watching the girl. She was knelt down, cleaning one of the tanegashima. Vital, if you intended it to fire later. But seeing her, a creature of peace, cradling an instrument of death, was strange.

His lips twisted into a bitter smile. As if he, a monk turned demon, had any ground to criticize. This world made monsters of them all. Even kind little girls who still shuddered at the thought of harming someone.

The abbot cleared his throat to let her know he was there. “Neither Mitsuhide nor Motonari have returned?”

She still gave a little jump at the sound of his voice. “Ah! No! I mean - no, not yet.”

Kennyo entered the room. As he did, the girl’s posture stiffened. The muscles in her shoulders bunched tight, and her jaw clenched. Not an inappropriate reaction to a demon, but it still made him feel a spike of shame. For whatever reason, he did not want this girl to fear him. Perhaps Ranmaru’s reports were to blame. Yes. They’d given him an idealistic portrait of the chatelaine. One that couldn’t be wholly accurate.

He frowned at her and at his own reaction. Best to get to the point. “I’ve found the shogun. He is hiding with a daimyo just outside of Kyoto. Take note.”

She set the tanegashima aside and stood. Then hurried to the desk to pull out paper, brush and ink. “Ready!”

The abbot sat as far from her as he could. Perhaps with distance between them she would . . . Kennyo didn’t finish the thought. He set his staff down and adjusted his robes. “My informants spoke with several servants of the daimyo, confirming that he had a guest. The descriptions match, and one overheard the name Ashikaga.” He continued, providing the level of detail he knew Mitsuhide would require to plan, pausing as he went to give the girl time to write.

She smiled as she took down his report. A lock of hair fell forward on to her cheek, and she pushed it back, leaving a little ink smear in its place.

Kennyo was reminded of the children he’d taught at the temple. It made him want to protect her - to tell her to leave while she could, lest her innocence be tainted by the likes of him, the kitsune, and their pirate accomplice.

Of course he said none of those things. But he could not help falling into memory of better times.

When he finished, the chatelaine looked up at him to confirm there was no more to write.

“That is everything. You did well.” His cheeks ached as his lips turned up in a soft, paternal smile. An expression he had not worn in so long that his body had forgotten what it felt like.

The girl blushed and ducked her head. “Ah, it - it wasn’t anything special.”

Kennyo watched her reaction. Humility, gratitude for the compliment . . . He was struck again by the strangeness of finding someone like her here. Though he knew it was wiser to simply leave, he could not help but ask. “Why has a woman like you twined your fate with that of the kitsune?” He leaned forward, locking his gaze with hers. “You will never have an easy life with him.”

Though she could have, the chatelaine did not break eye contact. She gave a small, gentle smile. “He’s more important to me than being comfortable.”

“You unfortunate creature.” Kennyo sighed. “You cannot know all of the atrocities he has committed. The horrors done by his hand or at his behest.”

The girl’s shoulders straightened. “Mitsuhide makes no secret of his past. I learned about the things he has done when he trained me. I accept him just as he is - his horrible side and his gentleness together. I don’t separate the people I love into pieces and decide which parts are worthy and which not.”

It was, Kennyo had to admit, a good answer. And an unexpected one. Yet . . . how could a woman love someone with so much blood on his hands? It was like a compassionate spirit holding to a demon. An impossibility. “I cannot understand you.”

She did not answer, and Kennyo felt the gap between them grow wider. Perhaps there simply was no answer.

The abbot stood. “Forgive me young lady.” It had to be said, but he could admit in this moment, some regret. “I understand, at least, how important that man is to you. But one day I will come for his life.”

Kennyo expected her to be angry, or perhaps frightened. But she only shook her head and smiled. “You can’t have it, you know.”

He did not want her to see his stunned expression, or the battle in his soul. Kind monk and demon, twisting his heart until it bruised and tore. The abbot turned and left, hurrying down the stairs and into the unforgiving light of the bright, afternoon sun.

***

Mitsuhide toyed with the letter in his hands, folding and unfolding it. He had no right to destroy it, but if he burned it and only he knew . . . No. He’d promised his little mouse as much honesty as he could manage.

“Most beautiful flower, I will treasure your letter until the day my heart stops, and perhaps not even then.” The opening line caught his eye. Again. Yoshimoto was good with words. At least, compliments and confessions aside, the Imagawa clan leader agreed to their plan.

The forces of Azuchi and Echigo would meet in mock battle for a time. Long enough to draw the shogun’s eyes. The letters confirming the plan were already enroute, and the rumors set to burn their way to Ashikaga’s ears. With luck, it would be enough to give them an opening. And with more luck than he had any right to, the false conflict would not lead to unnecessary casualties.

“I can see your sweet spirit in the curves of ink, and feel your kind heart through every word.”

Well, perhaps one casualty would be alright.

Mitsuhide folded the letter up and stuck it in his pocket. Reading it again was not . . . beneficial. He would deliver it to his little one, as asked.

When he returned to their rooms, his little one was waiting for him. Her smile and “Welcome home!” was like warm sake to a chilled body. Mitsuhide walked to her and put his arms around her waist. He pulled her close for a kiss, and in the taste of her lips, he lost himself for just a few, sweet moments.

“I missed you,” she sighed and laid her head on his chest when their kiss ended. He hoped she could not hear how fast she made his heart beat.

“And I, you.” He took the letter out and looked at its deep-creased folds. Then, with a steadying breath, he held it out to her. “This arrived for you.”

His little mouse took the letter. “What? What’s this about?”

“It is from Yoshimoto.” He schooled his expression to neutrality, hiding his unhappiness at handing the missive over.

“Oh? Does this mean -”

Mitsuhide nodded. “He communicated our proposal to Echigo and they have accepted. Azuchi has already mustered troops and marches now to the agreed upon location.”

She looked to the desk and back to him. “Kennyo was by earlier. He left information on Ashikaga’s whereabouts. Do you want to read it?”

“I will. Later. I am sure it only confirms what Kyubei discovered. The shogun is hiding so near to us that -” he stopped, realizing the import of the rest of his words. He would need to leave. Tonight, or maybe dawn, at the latest. His throat closed tight and for a moment, Mitsuhide felt he couldn’t breathe. He would be leaving her here, alone. While he went to assassinate Ashikaga. He might not come back. Anything could happen to her while he was away . . .

“Love, what is it?” His little one could feel the tension in him, and sense his sudden anxiety. She dropped the letter she held to reach for him. Yoshimoto’s words fell to the ground, forgotten.

There was no avoiding it. He had his duty. And if he failed, more than his life or hers were forfeit. Mitsuhide looked at her and forced himself to relax, to breathe. “We will depart tonight. And I won’t return until the shogun is no more.”

She took a shaky breath. “Tonight is - is so soon!”

He smiled gently and tapped the tip of her nose. “Don’t look so sad. Didn’t I tell you that all I want is to know you are smiling, far from the conflict. Safe and happy.”

“I know.”

His little one still looked miserable. Mitsuhide sighed. This was more difficult than he anticipated. For himself and for her. He gently lowered her to the floor, and pulled her back against his chest. She tried to turn her head to look at him but he stopped her with a kiss just below her ear. “All I want you to worry about while I am gone is yourself. The greatest harm I could ever suffer would be leaving -”

The words wouldn’t come. Just thinking of her hurt left his mind in turmoil and his heart a gaping hole.

She turned until she could see him, and this time he let her. Though it wasn’t good for her to see such need in his eyes. He had to be strong - for her - and keep smiling. His little one didn’t speak, but she ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. And traced a fingertip along his jaw.

“I should consult with Kennyo and Motonari before I leave,” he said, words and heart pulling against each other.

“All right.” Her hand dropped away from him, and she stood. “I’ll get you packed.”

Mitsuhide wanted to say more. He wanted to pull her back into his lap and kiss her. Wanted more than that . . . to touch and taste her every curve, and imprint those memories in his mind so that, in his time away he could relive this night.

But she was already walking to the desk. Her back to him.

“I’ll return soon.”

His little one nodded, and glanced toward him as he walked to the door. Her eyes were damp and wide. Holding back tears. Again.

Next: Strength