#i think what made me overcome with emotion was when they named her (apparently after the beatles song)

[uncanny-tranny]

Every time I think too deeply about how we've found the bones of thousands and thousands of years old ancient people and we've given them people names I just

Guys, do you get it? We put to name these ancient peoples whose bodies vaguely resemble us and we go, "you're one of us, and we will give you a name that we have invented". They are not here to have a voice for themselves, but they are here to be remembered.

To be named is to be loved.

[wriothesleybear]

A True Angel Amongst Us

~warnings: Some angst but ends with fluff, insecure Sunday, slight story spoilers, fem!reader, 1.9k words.

~a/n: I've been wanting to write for Sunday for a while now and the first thing I write has angst ;-; I've been having trouble coming up with ideas for him, but after the 2.1 patch, I've wanted to write fluff for him and about his insecure side because I feel like he sort of has one deep down. Angel just needs some love.

Sunday has been tenser than usual lately. The stress from the loss of his dear sister, the struggle of finding her murderer, and the stress from the possibility of a traitor being amongst The Family and the pressure from his master being the main cause of his tension. He puts on a mask and pretends that everything is fine to ensure that The Family's image isn't tarnished, but behind closed doors is different. When he's alone, he just stares off into space, lost deep in the sea of his endless thoughts. Even with you, his dear wife, he puts on a mask sometimes. He doesn't want to worry you and show you the strong leader that he is, who is capable of overcoming any obstacles and who will deliver righteousness when the day comes.

But no matter how much he tries to hide his weaknesses, you can see beyond his mask. You notice in the way his shoulders are always tense, his hands in fists, the frown that lingers on his face when he thinks you aren't looking, and the way he's less talkative during your limited time together. You hate seeing your husband this way, knowing he's bottling everything up inside. It's only a matter of time until it all bubbles up and he eventually snaps.

You decide to visit him in his dreamscape mansion office. You hadn't seen him all day due to him being busy with work. You weren't even able to see him off this morning as his side of the bed was already empty and made up. Knocking on his door, he tells you to come in. "What brings you here my dear?" He says with his masked emotions. Your eyes survey his office, noticing how it's a bit messier than usual even for Sunday's standards. He usually has everything in perfect shape given his ocd. Nothing was ever out of place for him unless something was wrong, further proving your suspicions. He notices how your eyes survey his office, the look of concern on your face is apparent. "I wanted to check in on you, my love. I wanted to make sure you were doing okay." You offer him a gentle, kind smile. "Of course I'm doing well. Why wouldn't I be? As head of The Family, it is my duty to be competent to fulfill my role." He gives you a smile, but it's not a real one. It's one of those fake smiles he puts on for show when out in the public eye.

"Sunday. I know something's bothering you. Please, just talk to me." His smile falters, his fake smile fading as he contemplates your words. You had been worried about him ever since the death of his sister. As the caring wife you are, you've been by his side, making sure that he was doing alright. Bless your soul, but with all the questions and pity stares, he couldn't help but get disgruntled. He knows you meant well, but his insecurity couldn't help but get the better of him. He thought you saw him as weak. I mean, he couldn't protect his dear sister for god's sake. It's his duty to protect those he cares about and he failed. He surveys your face while lost in his thoughts. His train of thought is broken by your calls of his name. He plasters on his fake smile.

"Dear, there's no need to worry about me. Or do you truly believe I'm just that weak?" You're taken aback from his accusation. You gather your courage and try to shut down his allegation. "Of course I don't. You're the strongest person I know, Sunday. It's just.. I can tell you're undergoing a lot of stress lately given the loss of your sister and work. I want to help you." By now his fake smile has fallen completely, replaced with a emotionless look. Turning away from you, his back faces you, making you unable to see the pain on his facial features. "I'm fine. You should leave, dear.." You could hear the coldness in his tone. The emptiness in his words sending slight shivers down your spine. You try to protest and get him to open up to you, but he cuts you off. "Don't let me tell you twice." He says in a strict voice, void of emotion. You hesitate but respect his wishes. You turn to leave without another word said. He doesn't even notice the breath he was holding until the door shut behind you.

~

Later that night, you lay wide awake in bed. Thoughts of your earlier event with Sunday replay in your head. After you left Sunday's office, you thought everything would be okay by dinnertime, but he never showed. You tried not to take it to heart too much, taking in consideration what he's going through right now, but when it got to midnight and he still hadn't arrived home, you began to feel worse. You've known Sunday for years. You knew how he was raised to become the perfect leader to represent The Family. He was a strong leader who believed in righteousness, in helping those in need, and caring for the people of Penacony. You know he's the kindest and most compassionate person with many strengths, but you also knew that he had many insecurities. He was scared that others would see him as weak and he was worried that everything he worked so hard for would be taken from him. Getting tired of wallowing in your thoughts, you finally decide to find him and try to get him to talk to you one way or another.

Arriving to his office once again, you knock on the door and patiently wait for an answer. "Sunday? It's me. Can I come in?" No answer. Maybe he was shunning you, but you weren't one to back down and walk away. You weren't going to give up on your husband. "Sunday. I'm coming in." Grabbing the door knob, you push the door open and are welcomed to a dark office. The only faint light coming from the windows in his office. Even with the limited lighting, you were able to see that Sunday's office was a bigger mess than earlier. Papers and books were thrown about the floor, the miniature display of Penacony in ruins. Worried, you continue to scan the room until your eyes land on the man slumped over his desk. Walking over to him, you observe his appearance. His clothes are in disarray, coat thrown recklessly on the chair, his wings and hair disheveled. "Sunday.." You hesitate for a second before resting a hand on his head. He tenses from your touch, causing you to withdrawal your hand. "Darling? What happened?" You ask in the most gentlest voice you could muster while trying not to push him too hard to talk. He doesn't reply to you. He keeps his head down on his desk, not willing to move an inch.

You quietly sigh. "Sunday. I understand if you don't like me pestering you with worries and questions. I'm your wife and I care about you. I'm only trying to be there to support you. I am here to support you. For anything. I'm here." Silence. You didn't expect him to reply but you wanted him to hear you out. "I'll give you your space, but just know, I'm here for you with open arms when and if you need to talk." You turn to walk away but suddenly, you're stopped in your tracks by a hand grabbing your wrist. Turning your head back, you see that Sunday is finally looking at you. You can see the pain in his eyes and by how his hand slightly shakes. Without saying anything, you turn your body to fully face him and open your arms wide, silently welcoming him into your arms.

He doesn't waste another second and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his head into your chest. Wrapping your arms around him, you feel his body slightly shaking as you hold him close. "It's okay Sunday. You don't need to hide from me. I won't judge you. Please, don't push me away. I'm here for you." You gently whisper as you stroke his hair. He doesn't speak, all that's heard is his deep, shaky breaths as he tries to control his emotions. It's taking all his willpower to not breakdown crying right there.

"Can you look at me darling?" He's hesitant, but eventually pulls his head away from your body without releasing his hold around your waist. He looks up at you. You notice the painful expression that graces his beautiful features. His golden eyes water as he tries to prevent the tears from falling. He hates showing weakness let alone looking weak in front of you. You cup his cheeks as you search his eyes, giving him a gentle smile. "It's okay to show weakness sometimes, my love. You're the strongest person I know and nothing will change the way I feel about you. I will always see you as the strongest, most caring leader and husband."

Without realizing, tears have begun to fall from Sunday's eyes as he listens to your reassuring words. Your thumbs move to wipe his tears. "I'm...I'm sorry...for pushing you away." He quietly says, his voice slightly cracking. "There's no reason to apologize, Sunday. I know you didn't mean to. I don't blame you." He feels guilty and embarrassed as he tries to move away so you don't see him cry, but you stop him. "It's okay to cry my love. Let it out if it'll help you feel better." He can feel the love through your words and the look you give him, causing more tears to fall. All you do is give him a comforting smile and continue to rub his wet cheeks as he lets his emotions out. You lean down and press a kiss to his left cheek. He gasps, surprised by your sudden action. You switch to his other cheek and continue to kiss his tears away. You leave one final kiss on his forehead and pull his face into your chest. "We can stay like this for as long as you want my angel." He buries his head further into you, wrapping his arms around your waist as you comfort him.

You can feel his body relaxing as he continues to bask in your comforting hold. "Thank you, my love. You are the true angel amongst us." You giggle and continue to hold him close for as long as he needs, occasionally giving him words of comfort and gently stroking his hair and back. You'll wait as long as it takes until he's ready to talk to you, but he understands now that he has you to catch him when he falls and he'll never push you away again.

[ppersonna]

good for me | ksj - m

“ stay on the ground until your knees hurt. no more praying baby, imma be your preacher ” - church, chase atlantic

✹ summary- You’ve forgotten something very important and your husband, Seokjin, makes sure you never forget it again.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim seokjin x reader

✹ word count- 2.3k

✹ genre- smut, pwp, no plot, you’d have to DIG for a plot, like............. thats all there is to it. there is nothing else.

✹ warnings- hard dom!seokjin, oral sex (m receiving), spanking, degredation, dirty talk, shower sex, established relationship, 

✹ a/n- this has been in the drafts for some time. i debated posting it because it literally has no substance LMAOOOOO but hey fuck it. here’s some hard dom jin because 🥵 i needed it. thank u to @chimoona​ for her help and for my ladies @xjoonchildx​ @ladyartemesia​ @untaemedqueen​ always giving me the hype.

The best part of exercising is the shower afterwards. 

Sure, you enjoy the benefits of cardio and weight training, but nothing ever feels as good as a hot steamy shower after you’re drenched in sweat.  

It’s what you’re looking forward to as you climb out of your car and trudge your weary body to the front door. 

It’s late in the evening now—Seokjin’s car is in the driveway next to yours, and you figure he must have returned home sometime while you were gone. You open the door and call out to your husband, alerting him to your return as you drop your keys onto the entryway table and kick off your gym shoes. 

It’s quiet in the house, not a single reply from Seokjin, but you quickly dismiss it. He’s likely busy, or stepped outside to the backyard for a phone call. 

It’s no matter. All you can think about is turning on the shower and stepping into the spray and allowing the shower to soothe away tension and wash away the slick. 

Your body is sticky with sweat and the bra and legging combo you wore is an unattractive darker color from the moisture.  You’re peeling off the clothes as you make your way upstairs towards your shared bedroom.  The clothes land somewhere near the laundry basket—you don’t care where—and you’re completely naked by the time your feet touch the marble of the bathroom floor. 

The muscles in your body relax the instant you turn the knobs of the shower to hot, as hot as you can make it. It takes a moment to warm up, and you generously use the time to roll out your sore muscles and gaze at your figure in the mirror. 

There are still marks on your body from your last playtime with Jin. 

Some nights, you have sex with him like a normal, married couple. Missionary, soft and gentle, plenty of emotion and sweet whispered words. 

Other nights, however, you willingly allow the sadist in him to gratify the masochist in you. He takes control, demands submission, and you freely give. 

Your time with your husband last night was the latter. He bent you over the bed and paddled your ass until you cried, and your pussy drooled onto the floor below you. He was relentless, powerful, and it made you putty in his hands. There was no one else on the earth you trusted more than Seokjin. You knew he would never intentionally hurt you in a way that didn’t bring you pleasure. And it made your desire for him burn even brighter. 

The bathroom is steamy by the time you’ve finished checking out the delicious marks your husband left on you, and you slip into the shower with a grateful sigh.  The pressure feels incredible on your muscles and you allow your eyes to close as you bask in the steam and heat. 

The cascading water and intoxicating heat clouds your mind and you never notice the bathroom door open or the sound of clothing being removed. You’re so distracted that you never hear the glass door of the shower open. 

And it’s too late now. 

You’re instantly being pressed up against the cold tile of the bathroom, a hot and hard body behind you making you squeak in surprise. 

Jin has joined you in the shower, and he’s pressed your chest to the cool wall and tangles his hands in your hair. 

“Look what we have here,” he tuts. “Nice to see you showed up.”

You furrow your brow, confused on what he’s talking about. He plays with your hair as he continues to hold you against the wall, cheek turned and flat against the tile. 

“Jin, wha—,” he cuts you off before you can finish. 

“That’s not my name, baby doll.” 

His voice is distinct from his usual.

This one radiates power. It oozes danger. And your cunt is already squeezing around nothing at the sound. 

“S-sir,” you gasp. Your breathing is heavy, body overcome with desire. 

“That’s a good girl,” he praises. He lets a free hand travel down your wet back towards your ass, where he cups a cheek in his hand delicately. 

“Now, can my good girl tell me what she did wrong today?” 

His hands rub the globe gently, and you shiver. His hands feel so strong, so ready to deliver the firm swats or gentle caresses you crave the most. 

You’re racking your rattled brain as hard as you can, desperate to figure out what you’ve done wrong. 

“I—I can’t remember,” you murmur. 

He tsks, upset at your answer. 

“You better start remembering, little one.”  

His hand rubs at the skin of your ass once more, before he’s lifting his hand and bringing it back down onto your cheeks with a crack. Your body jolts in reply and the stinging of your buttocks travels straight to your core. A low whimper leaves your lips—a sound of brewing desire more than despair. 

“Don’t you want to be my good girl?” He asks as he rubs the reddening mark. “Tell me what you’ve done wrong and you won’t be punished.” 

You puff out a breath in frustration, unable to remember what you’ve done. 

Jin notices and delivers another slap to your ass, this time on the opposite cheek, and you yelp. 

“I-I,” you stutter, brain spinning desperately to remember what it is you’ve missed.  

“If you’ve forgotten how to use your voice, then please, let’s put that mouth to use.”

He turns your body, your back now pressed against the tile where your tits once were. Your eyes widen. He looks like a fucking god. He’s wet and dripping from the spray of the shower, and his eyes burn like coals, stoked by his desire for you. He steps back from you, allows you to drink in his image pridefully. 

His cock is rock hard, straining and thick against his abdomen. He doesn’t bother to touch it, doesn’t stroke or grasp it. His eyes are drilling holes into your own with intensity and you can feel your submissive nature begging you to kneel. It’s what he wants.

He knows you—knows you better than you likely know yourself.  You’re lowering on to your knees with no thought, eyes fixated on his like he likes. 

“No hands,” he speaks gently. “Dirty fucking whores don’t get to use their hands.”

His powerful hands grip your damp hair, gathering a bunch and bringing your face to the tip of his cock.

“You wanna suck daddy’s cock?” He asks, tone almost teasing. He rubs the head against your plump lips, allowing them to collect the generous pre-cum at the tip.  

You nod, big simpering eyes peering up at him.

“Please, daddy,” you beg. “Let me suck your cock.”

He rubs your lips a few moments more, before grasping your jaw in his hands and prying your mouth open.

“Suck.”

His hips thrust forward and suddenly your mouth fills with his length.  You almost gag, almost, but you squeeze your fists tight and will it away. Jin smirks as he sees the tears build in your eyes from the pressure and continues forward until his cock fills your entire throat.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs. “Look at you take it all like a practiced whore.”

He pulls out slowly, torturously calculated and measured, before he’s slamming his length back into your throat and starting a pace.

Your mouth becomes a simple vessel for him and his pleasure. You tuck your teeth in as best as you can as he fucks your throat, cheeks hollowing as you attempt to tighten the space in your mouth, and lave your tongue over any inch of his cock you can find.  

He keeps his hand on your head, grip tightening steadily on your hair.  

“Shit,” he puffs a breath. “Best fucking cocksleeve.”

His head tips back as he enjoys the slurping, sloppy sounds your mouth is making. Saliva is sliding down the corners of your mouth where it gathers and drips to the wet marble floor below.  

Jin delights in the way you submit to him. He feels powerful, feels like a god. He loves you, every single aspect of you in the bedroom and outside of it. And he absolutely loves it when you’re on your knees, begging like a good girl. So good for him, even when you fuck up.

He peers back down at you, pushing more hair out of your face tenderly while he fucks your willing mouth.

“Mm, this is where you belong, isn’t it? This is what this hot little mouth is meant for.”

He punctuates his sentences with quicker, rougher snaps of his hips that force his cock to the very back of your throat. Your eyes spill over with tears and your throat tightens in reaction, squeezing the head of Jin’s cock.

“Ah, fuck yes, choke on it.”

He’s absolutely enamored by the way you work harder, mouth bobbing along with his thrusts.  You get off on this just as much as he does—you love to be degraded and treated like a whore in the bedroom while he treats you like the queen you are outside of it.

His queen, bowing in front of him to give him pleasure through her submission.

It’s one of the many reasons he loves you so fucking much.

He can feel his stomach tightening, core clenching as his orgasm builds. Simply watching your tears, mixed with the shower water slip down your face has his balls and heart yearning.

“You ready to swallow my cum, doll?” He asks, fully knowing the answer.  

Your impossibly beautiful and big eyes widen even further and Jin stifles a groan at the sight of you, the definition of submission personified. 

“Mm, I know you are.” He pumps harder into your gaping mouth, groaning at how wet and hot it is despite your aching jaw. “You love swallowing cum. It’s your favorite meal of the day.”

He’s gritting his teeth as his orgasm becomes more and more apparent and you bob your head earnestly to bring him off. You easily accommodate him without your hands, and he swells with pride at how good you are for him.

“That’s my perfect little slut,” he grits. He’s staving off the orgasm as long as he can, wants to soak in every moment of you gagging on his length. 

Your hand seeks purchase on Jin’s thick thighs, holding on for balance as your head bobs quickly and your throat works overtime to accommodate his length. Another quick glance up to him is all it takes for him to fall to pieces. He can never resist the way you look at him with a mouth full of cock.

His cock pulses with each groan and you whine cutely as he fills your mouth with his seed. You slow your movements and stay put, staring at him as his cock twitches.

He gently pulls his spent cock from your lips, panting as he attempts to right himself.

“Open up,” he demands in a gentle voice.

You’re compliant—mouth opening to display Seokjin’s thick cum pooled on your tongue. It makes him grin. 

“Nasty,” he winks. “Swallow, my love.” 

He rests a hand on your throat, wants to feel as you swallow his seed down. It makes his cock twitch back to life, ready to go again and again. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been married to you—he’ll always find the stamina for a round two.

“Are you ready to discuss what happened today?”

Jin holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully to stand up inside the shower.

“Yes, please.”

Jin wraps his arms around you and pulls you under the spray of the shower. He places gentle and soft kisses up and down your neck as his hands slither up and down your wet body.

“What’s the date today?” He whispers as he kisses the shell of your ear.

“It’s the eighth--,” you start, before your eyes wide. “Oh, my god.”

He smiles and pulls back to look into your eyes.

“It is the eighth, yes, and?”

“It’s our wedding anniversary.”

Your heart sinks. In the hustle and bustle of the day, it slipped from your mind of your anniversary. He had planned an entire evening to spend together, and you had forgotten all about it, abandoned the plans for a night at the gym.

“Oh, my god, Jin, I am so sorry. I totally forgot.”

Jin kisses at your face, cupping your cheeks with his hands.

“Baby, it's okay,” he assures as he kisses your shower-slick lips. “I’m not mad. The steaks are a little cold, but…”

You cling harder to your husband. 

“God, I’m an idiot. I owe you!”

He chuckles in your ear as he wraps his arms tight around you. Anniversary or not, Seokjin is in love with you. And he can forgive a simple mistake. Especially when you make up for it so sweetly.

“You’re not an idiot, baby. You can show me how sorry you are tonight when you’re tied up to the bed and taking my cock, hm?”

You lick your lips, already excited for the delicious punishments Jin must have planned for you.

“I love you,” you murmur, standing on tip-toes to press another kiss to his full lips.

“Mmm, and I love you,” he replies. “And you’re going to be good for me tonight, aren’t you baby?”

Jin is turning off the shower as you nod.

He gathers a towel and steps out, drying every inch of your body before guiding you to the bedroom.

“Show me.”

© ppersonna - 2021 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author. 

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 3 - Loki x Reader

Summary: You find shelter in the freezing lands of Jotunheim, and surprisingly some new allies. But Loki is already coming after you...

Warnings: Angst

Words: ~1500

A/N: Sorry, this one is a little short.

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist:  @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800​ @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog​

Only the anchestors keeping watch over you would know just how long you had been resting until your body was eventually able to move again.

As you looked around, you found several pairs of glowing red eyes observing every one of your moves, clashing with the otherwise darkness around you.

You bolted in an upright position, chest waving heavily as your breath was forming a cold mist. Much to your surprise, you were covered in warm furs.

“Worry not” one of them spoke, their body almost inseparable from the icy cave you apparently resided in. “We are a warrior tribe, not warmongers. What do we gain from killing a weak Asgardian noblewoman and their child?”

“Where is he?!” you choked on your own sob, only able to calm down when yet another giant handed the small bundle into your arms. 

They seemed to have cared for him while you were unable to, having fed and cleaned the small boy who was still impossible to distinguish from those powerful giants.

“What is his name?” A female of them seeked to know.

You stopped in your tracks at her question. Everything happened so fast, there was no time to think about it until now.

“His...his name is...L-Liam*. Liam Lokison.” The unintended alliteration made you smile. Yes, this was a formidable name for such a little fighter.

“Loki, you say?” A row, deep voice drang to your ears, huffing at hearing the name of your husband.

It is him again - Laufey.

Initially, you wanted to express your gratitude for his benevolent hospitality, but concluded it would be better to not interrupt.

“Loki, you say?” he repeated the name, tone laced with venom pumping through his heart. “That pathetic excuse of a Jotunn?”

What in hel did he just say?!

“No wonder that crossbreed of yours is so pathetically tiny.” Laufey would now eye his grandson with great fascination, even though adverse. “A disgrace, just like his father.”

“Wha- what in the realms are you...talking about?”

You took in a sharp breath,pulling the child deeper into your arms and away from his wary eyes.

The king could only laugh at your attempts, finding this farce absolutely amusing.

“Hilarious”, he scoffed, “I take from your reaction that Odin is still the old, pathological liar.”

The Allfather had expected you to die in this environment before you’d ever find out the truth, and even if not - Odin thought Laufey to be wildly ashamed of his son, and he would never admit that this freak was his child.

And that was where he was wrong.

“He still didn’t tell any of you?” The Jötunn thought back to that day of indescribable loss. First and foremost the war with Asgard and them taking away his power, together with the Cascet of Ancient Winters - and then...

“The man you call the God of Mischief was born on Jotunheim, as Laufeyson” he declared, and the following words made your heart clench dreadfully. “For whyever I deserved such misfortune, my firstborn came into this world as a failure.”

“Our world is harsh and unforgiving” Laufey continued and apparently, none of the folk seemed surprised. “It is an act of mercy to erase the weakest of our kind, since they wouldn’t survive either way.”

“Lies” you hissed - but the proof was right there, in your arms. “You are lying!”

However, deep inside, you already knew that his words were true.

Why?

Not minding the surrounding giants, you began crying from all the weight on your heart - mourning over the fate of your lover.

From his very first day, Loki Laufeyson was doomed. His only birthright was failure, exclusion and resentment, with death’s grip constantly at his throat.

“Then-” Connecting the dots, fear overcame your system. “Why did you help me?”

“Too much blood of Asgardians and Jotunns had been shed.”

Now that you thought of it, they had saved you - cared for Liam, even. Neither had they left you to die, nor tried to harm you or the child in any way.

Odin was really the greatest liar in all of history - for there were no monsters in Jotunnheim. Only a different race of people.

“I have stained my own hands in countless battles against your kind. But we are in dire need of peace, Y/N of Asgard. And your child could be the key.”

Anger began boiling inside of you, thoughts still revolving around how Loki had been lied to for all those years - and for what? Diplomacy? Using him like a tool, to control the Jötunn?

“Loki is Asgardian just as much as you are.” Somehow, the king almost sounded pained at the revelation. “He is unaware of his heritage, taught to despise us from childhood on. There is no way he would connect our two cultures with how much hatred he bears in his heart.”

At first, you felt close to passing out once again - the emotional exhaustion being way worse than what your body could take.

Those past two days were just too much for you: Liam’s birth, his genes, being cast out by your own people - and now, knowing that Loki had been lied to and used, even might be in danger at the hands of his own father?!

“So, you want me to...raise him here?” The thought alone made your insides churn, thinking back to your homeland. “I think I have to decline that generous offer.”

“No, not like that.” Laufey slowly approached both of you, wary to not touch your skin in any way. He signalized the want to touch his grandson, and you allowed it.

Of course, in a primal tribe like that, showing weakness was unforgiveable - especially if you were the king.

Yet you couldn’t really describe why, but somehow you knew that Laufey wasn’t as heartless as it appeared to be. Maybe, back then, he really thought his decision to be best - but now?

Everything you could decipher in his orbs as he touched Loki’s child was remorse, yearning and guilt. The loss of his firstborn was still present in his heart, aware that even though alive, they had grown apart from each other beyond repair.

“You need sunlight and warmth to survive.” Homesickness could also kill you, you knew that much. “We only ask of you for visits during his upbringing, so he can learn our ways and traditions. See both sides of the coin.”

A bridge between worlds, huh?

On the one hand, it was a huge responsibility you would burden on your child - yet you knew that at least learning about his heritage was his birthright.

Never you would allow yourself to dwell on comfortable lies like Odin, just because you didn’t want to be condemned for the past!

You would save Loki, as well as ensure this wonderful child’s future!

“Laufey, my king and inlaw, so it shall be. This child is now part of your tribe, as much as it is Asgardian.”

_____

[Several weeks later]

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Laufey looked down on the Asgardian prince, standing in front of the gates of the Jotunn village.

“I demand on seeing my wife, you dull creatures!” Loki materialized a dagger, threatening to throw it right into the Jötunn’s eye. “Whatever you’ve done to her, I will repay a thousand times!”

Unimpressed, Laufey spoke “I see Odin has taught you his manners. Violent, hotheaded and selfish. No wonder she did not stay with you.”

“I ask you this one last time: Where. Is. Y/N?!”

Without any second thought, the God of Mischief had left in secret, facing the giants all alone without help of his brother or soldiers.

Because your husband was devastated beyond relief.

Without you at his side, the half-god had completely lost his way. All this time since he thought you dead, nothing could save Loki from his own mind.

For weeks, he wouldn’t leave his chambers, sitting in the dark for hour after hour without nourishing his body in the slightest.

He was haunted by how your belongings reminded him of those blissful days of your marriage. Your scent was still present on those now empty bedsheets, fogging his mind and keeping him from much-needed sleep.

The only matter he busied himself with aside from screaming and crying until his throat went sore, were the thoughts of what could be:

Knowing himself responsible for your imminent demise was eating him alive - even if that child wasn’t his, if only he didn’t rush things and would’ve let some time pass, to become clear-headed again as he was now.

Would Loki be able to forgive you and live on, overcome this hardships like so many before?

Most certainly! Because he needed you at his side, more than anything else.

Loki Odinson couldn’t live without the light of his life.

And if there was even the slightest chance of you still being alive, he would claim what was his and start anew.

“Loki, your eyes are wide open, and yet you don’t seem to see the full picture.”

When Laufey refused to descend to the entrance, Loki would immediately teleport himself towards the giant, blade aiming at his throat. “You will answer to your crimes, monster!”

The king was able to repel the attack by grabbing the god’s wrist - yet instead of the incoming pain Loki was expecting, merely his clothing froze into crumbles...

...and his limb turned in a shade of dark blue.

“You’ve grown strong, my son.”

_______

*Liam is a irish name, meaning “strong-willed warrior” or “protector”.

[early2000smovieimagines]

Meeting and Dating Napoleon Bonaparte

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- Having worked at the Museum of Natural History for over two years, very little was capable of surprising you at this point. You’d come to expect the unexpected and you were almost always prepared for anything.

- Apparently though, there was still a few things that managed to catch you off guard: like your dear friend; and ex coworker, explaining that Ahkmenrah’s evil brother was trying to take over the world …or the fact that you’d wind up finding Napoleon Bonaparte of all people; or wax figures, …sort of attractive. 

- Yeah... that was an interesting discovery....

- So, as the story goes, Larry informed you that the museum exhibits were in trouble and that he’d be traveling to Washington in hopes of saving them from whatever danger they’d found themselves in. With very little convincing, you’d agreed to accompany him and you soon found yourself facing off with Kahmunrah and his various minions.

- Which led you to this exact moment: standing cornered in a random room as Napoleon and his guards pointed weapons at you and; mainly, Larry. 

- You watched silently as Larry and the man went back and forth, arguing about height and whatever other unimportant thing came up before you’d made yourself a little more known by complimenting the French mans plan. 

- Whether you were being serious or merely taking the piss is unimportant, all that matters is that you’d made it seem as though you found the man to be impressive and that you’d directed his attention towards you …and boy did he like what he saw. 

- He immediately walked over, putting on a smile and thanking you as he began to noticeably behave in a far more flirty way. 

- Although it wasn’t entirely successful; particularly after he slid across the floor to question Larry about your relationship, it did manage to catch you off guard and get you just a tad bit flustered. 

- But, just as soon as it began, it was over in a flash. The man forced Larry to come with him, interrupting you as you began to say that you were coming with them, telling you that their fight was not with you; which you would probably have considered to be quite noble in just about any other circumstance. 

- Your story momentarily ends here but that isn’t the last time you encounter the Frenchmen. It’s only a few months later that the Museum of Natural History gets a few new guests....

- The first time Napoleon awakens again, he almost immediately encounters Larry; which neither of them are very happy about. What he is happy about is the realization that if Larry is here, there’s a very likely chance that you are as well. 

- So; with forced nonchalance, the man asks about you. 

“And your friend ...is she here?” He says slowly, looking around as though he expects you to show up at any moment. 

“Yeah. Yeah, she’s here. She works here so …you know,” Larry pauses. “She’s probably in her office …working. Downstairs …her office.”

- They stand in an awkward silence for a moment before they both excuse themselves and Napoleon goes off in search of you.

-  He runs into you just as you’re coming up for a break, greeting you with a charming smile and a “Bonjour Mademoiselle”. And, for the first time since you first met, he properly introduces himself, kissing your hand and making it increasingly obvious that his interest in your love life was not merely a “French thing”. 

- And though you should probably be doing whatever you can to get away from the wax figure with a questionable moral compass, you find yourself unable to. Instead, you stand and speak with him, making conversation until you really need to get back to work.

- But that isn’t the last time you speak with him …he makes sure of that. It seems as though you’re the only thing that really interests him in the museum and soon enough, you’re growing quite used to; and fond of, his growing presence in your life. 

- It doesn’t take long for Napoleon to try and ask you out. I mean he conquered most of Europe; wooing a woman is childs play compared to that, right? 

- Partially. While you do like him and admit that his French flirtation is tempting, you also know that you have to be reasonable and being reasonable does not include dating a museum exhibit who is only capable of coming alive at night with the help of a magical tablet. 

- So the two of you play a game of cat and mouse where he flirts and you enjoy it but do your best to pull away when things start to get too heavy and you can feel the damning words approaching the tip of his tongue.

- You never let him get to the point of actually asking you out. You excuse yourself, you distract him, you change the subject, you do whatever you can to keep your head on straight.

- And it works, it works for a pretty good amount of time, but there's only so long that you can avoid the inevitable; especially when its obvious that you both like each other.

- So finally, the wax figure manages to get the words out, very romantically and suavely asking if you would be his, and though your mind is telling you that it really isn't a good idea, you cant help but say yes.

- He smiles and plants a kiss on the hand of yours that he was holding, telling you that he’ll meet you at your office the next night and the two of you say goodbye.

- Your first date is a stroll around the museum, talking and enjoying your newfound attempt at a relationship.

- You share your first kiss a week or so later after you have a few good dates and decide that you want to continue on with this out of the ordinary relationship.

- You’re sitting outside on the steps of the museum, looking out at the view of the city under the stars when he leans in and presses his lips to yours. You share a soft kiss before you pull away with a smile and scoot in closer to each other.

- After that, the two of you get to experience all the nitty gritty of relationships with each other.

- Napoleon isn't shy about his interest in and affection for you so pda isn’t a rare occurrence in your relationship. He adores you and he thinks that people should know that. 

- His arm around your waist; depending on your height it’s probably the easiest place for him to reach. 

- Keeping close to each other. He’ll oftentimes hold your hand or your elbow and stay right by your side, looking at you lovingly and listening to you intently. 

- Knuckle kisses. 

- Slow, romantic kisses. 

- Him occasionally just laying one on you; particularly when he’s frustrated or overcome with another sort of powerful emotion. They’re always abrupt and passionate and wind up taking your breath away. 

- He uses a lot of pet names on you; oftentimes ones that make you sound small or cute: things like my little darling, my little mouse, etc. He’ll also use a plethora of French terms of endearment on you since he doesn’t speak a whole lot of English. 

- He secretly likes when you use pet names on him but he probably won’t admit it to you; he’ll just have a little smile on his face and a warm reaction to them whenever you happen to use them. 

- Don’t even bring up the idea of him being the little spoon because he will never take kindly to it. He’ll always be the big spoon or have you resting your head on him regardless of how little sense it may make snuggle-wise. 

- The two of you are only capable of seeing each other at night and only when you can get away from work or when you’re able to get night shifts so he likes being able to have a keepsake of you. More likely than not it’s a photo or note that you wrote him which he keeps in his pocket or hat. 

- Bringing in little treats for him. He’s stuck inside a museum and his own waxy body most of the time, he’s bound to miss things from the outside world so it’s always nice when you surprise him with something no matter how small.

- Having him by your side whenever you can. He likes lazying around and just being in your presence while you work so you better get used to him. 

- He’s always the first one to greet you when he awakens or as you arrive at the museum for your shift. He likes having that honor.

- Telling him about the outside world. He’s missed a lot so you’ll definitely need to fill him in on some current events. He’d also be rather interested in hearing about his impact on the world and how people view him; just try not to mention the complex thing too much. 

- Learning about each others lives. He’s obviously going to have a lot more interesting stories but he never minds listening to yours; even if they’re really boring in comparison.

- Letting him brag about his military prowess. He’ll probably try to act all humble and modest in the beginning but will then start eagerly talking about it like you were begging him to do so.

- Hyping him up and making him all smiley with your compliments. He’s pretty approval driven so your praise and validation does wonders to his self esteem.

- His soldiers standing guard or interrupting you if something important is happening.

- His soldiers have also probably helped him execute grand gestures that he’s thought up for you.

- Trying to sneak him out of the museum and into your home every now and again. 

- If you’re able to sneak him away for a night then he’d probably enjoy going to a quiet café or restaurant; somewhere the two of you can relax and enjoy some nice food away from the typical chaos of the museum. 

- He’d definitely be the type of guy to order for you at restaurants; if you were able to go to restaurants. It’s really up to you if you want to spend your hard earned money and take the time to try to figure out a way to get him out for the night. 

- Getting him to play little games with you. You have to do something to pass the time, right? And he’s secretly a bit of a pushover for you so it’s never very difficult.

- Using his telescope to look out the windows of the museum.

- Picnics in areas of the museum or right outside on the steps.

- Marching/strutting around the Museum. Something tells me that he’d walk around with his chin held high and his chest puffed out; as though he were still emperor.

- Romantic language; though he probably speaks in French when he wants to be all lovey dovey with you. 

- Him looking you up and down. He’s fairly obvious about it but it’s up to you to know if you’d be able to pick up on what he’s doing.

- Get used to winking and borderline salacious facial expressions and gestures because they’re fairly common with him.

- Love letters. 

- He’s old fashioned; partially because he’s just old, so chivalry and social etiquette is a big part of who he is; though it might only surface when he’s around you. He’s always on his best behavior whenever he can be and acts endearingly gentlemanly.

- Gossiping with each other. 

- You having any Napoleon “merch”; for lack of a better word, would make him completely smug and he’d have no other choice but to tease you for it. 

- Dealing with his overdramatic reactions and behavior. 

- Making sure he doesn't get into trouble; or at least trying to whenever you can. Sometimes it’s just inevitable so you’ll have to do your best to provide damage control. 

- Letting him handle his fights. It’s best to just sit back and let him deal with things sometimes; he likes thinking that he doesn’t need any help even when he really does. 

- Ivan probably makes sure that you have only the best intentions for Little Nippy and once he likes you, he’ll feel the need to defend and protect you as well. 

- Larry thinks you’re sort of crazy for wanting to be with a wax figure; particularly one who literally had a complex created in his image, but you just pay him no mind. 

- Napoleon isn’t an incredibly jealous person, mainly because he’s not afraid to be direct and ask questions. If he thinks something is going on between you and another person, he’s going to interrogate them to see what their intentions are. 

- But on that note: he does get jealous when you fawn over someone else; someone like a movie star, or show fascination in another exhibit; although it’s less jealousy and more him feeling insecure and wondering what they have that he doesn't. 

- He isn’t particularly protective but he also has guards he can order to watch over you whenever he perceives there to be some form of danger. That being said: he’s immediately rushing to your side the minute he hears you let out any pained/frightened noise or hears that something might have happened to you. 

- Given how sensitive he is, there’s bound to be a few arguments in your relationship. They’re never very serious but they still occur. 

- He’s easily placated with an apology or an explanation but if you’re not in the mood to give one, it still wont take him very long to forgive you and begrudgingly admit that he may have overreacted. 

- Napoleon tells you that he loves you quite a bit but he leaves it for when you’re alone or tries to say it quiet enough for the people around you not to hear. He wants people to know that you’re together, he doesn’t want them thinking he’s weak. 

- Your relationship might not be the most conventional nor is it one that’s easy to keep up for years to come, but you know that you care about each other more than anyone can know and that's enough for you. 

[cherriesfineline]

Au Pair – Chapter I

It's finally here – I'm sorry this took so long, this past few weeks have been a mess but here it is, our first chapter for the Au Pair series; I kinda hate this, ngl- I always hate first chapters, a lot of introductory info and bla bla but yeah.

In the weird case you happen to enjoy this and want to be added into the taglist (starting next chapter) you can request it here.

Feedback, likes or reblogs are so, so appreciated! I'm very much new to the whole writing world so yeah it'd be really helpful to hear your thoughts about this <3

Love you all, have a wonderful week beauties!

Warnings: none specifically for this chapter – age gap.

WC: 6.6k

Masterlist

Y/N was tired, to say the least.

And it wasn’t the tiredness she used to feel after a long work shift at her previous job -where her boss was an old, grumpy lady with horrible manners- or the exhaustion felt after spending hours crying due to a fight with her mother. No, this was different. It was a tiredness she couldn’t get rid of; a tiredness no lavender smelling bath or hours upon hours of sleep could amend.

She couldn't pinpoint the exact moment her brain shifted in such a drastic way. Y/N could easily recognize and admit her life had never been an exciting one; a memorable one. Ever since she was a little girl it all seemed to fly by; graduations, birthdays, friendships – nothing ever seemed to leave an impact and nothing ever seemed as exciting as everyone else put it to be. She knew she struggled with allowing herself to enjoy things, but this far her life had been pretty average.

Maybe it was the fact that she was 22 years old and never been in a real relationship what skyrocketed her fear of dying alone. Now, she knew it might seem exaggerated – 22 years wasn’t a long life at all, but the pungent emptiness she’d been feeling felt like her inevitable destiny – like that’s how life was supposed to be for her.

England felt different, though. But in all honesty, her emotions hadn’t had switched into completely different ones like she’d expected to happen when she applied for this job as an Au Pair all the way back in February.

With a steaming hot cup of coffee between her cold hands, she sat down next to Coco (a very soft grey Scottish Fold) on the giant couch of her new home, scratching in between his tiny ears earning a low purr in response. Coco had become one of her closest friends so far, along with Anya, a three year old girl with cute blonde locks and a laugh so contagious it made the muscles on your cheeks ache after a long playdate.

Maybe moving away wasn’t the smartest choice. It actually might be one of the stupidest choices she had ever made, actually – moving all the way across the globe when she cried herself to sleep most nights due to her loneliness overcoming her (almost inexistent) self-awareness. Y/N liked to believe she had a wide understanding of her emotions, but it was a blatant lie.

At least she was distracted for most of the day – taking care of two kids and looking after a teenager wasn’t an easy task. It required a lot of mental presence; but by the time she was in bed at night, it all hit back again. She thought maybe this is how life is supposed to be for her, lonely – maybe it was not her brain playing her tricks but her brain making her see how her life truly was.

It’d been two weeks since the Lockehold family picked Y/N up from the airport, and on one side getting physically adjusted to this new life hadn't been as rough as she thought it’d be. She did have it easy, if she had to admit – a big room in a giant, beautiful home and a car to her disposal. Emotionally, on the other side, life was still the same.

She knew the moment she heard heels hitting the cold marble staircase Bella was on her way down with Ivy, the eldest of the three sisters, following close behind, complaining about a hangout she was apparently going to miss because they “are expecting a guest” as Bella announced, meaning neither of her parents could drive her. That’s how Y/N found herself sitting in her (borrowed) blue Jeep Renegade driving Ivy to her friend Lily’s house – who lived in the same rich, over-the-top neighborhood as her guest family, which meant the ride to and back was no longer than twenty minutes. During those minutes together, though, Y/N could physically feel the irritation running through Ivy’s blood because first, she still wasn’t too fond of Y/N because she is 16 and doesn’t need a babysitter -her words, not Y/N’s- and second, Y/N is still not accustomed to driving on the other side of the road.

Technically, Y/N had the weekends off. Living with the same people who employed her gladly didn’t mean working 24/7, but she hoped she could earn a couple of points in her favor if she took her free time to drive her around.

After a short conversation between the two (where Ivy refused to save Y/N’s number in case an emergency came up because she could always call her dad), Y/N dropped her off and drove back to the Lockehold’s. What caught her off guard, was the sight of someone in the driveway at the house next door getting suitcases out of the trunk of a black cab – there hadn’t been any movement in the old Victorian mansion since she’d moved in next door. A man, definitely very tall, dressed in a dark suit is all Y/N could decipher since it was already dark outside and she had to strictly concentrate on not switching to the opposite side of the road out of habit.

Alex was coming down the stairs when Y/N locked the front door – Bella’s husband was a very handsome man for his age, probably anyone could admit it. He was kind of scary sometimes, but was a true sweetheart on the inside; he’s in his mid-40’s and it was clear as day his family meant everything to him, he even treated Y/N like his own daughter, always making sure she’s comfortable and inviting her to most family hangouts – even though Y/N declined pretty often to allow them to have quality time as a family (and because being too socially involved drained her, but they needn’t have to know that)

“You wanna join us for dinner? We have a guest tonight. A family friend.”

“Oh, no, I'm good, you guys enjoy yourselves. I’ll say hello, though.” Y/N replied with a smile; and as before mentioned, even though she had the weekends to herself, they still loved to insist on her joining them for fancy dinners and whatnot. The Lockehold’s loved being hostesses, loved having people around (from what Y/N learned this past two weeks) but she really wanted -and needed- some time for herself after being with them the entire week, and even though she loved hanging out with them, she just wasn’t in the mood tonight.

“You sure? Bella made homemade pasta, from scratch. Her specialty.” Mouthwatering, Y/N thought. Bella was such an amazing cook, and even though she worked hours upon hours every day, she still came to her husband and kids in time to make dinner every night, not missing a single day.

“Sounds delicious, but I think I’ll pass, I’m just really tired.” And before anyone could make another comment, the loud bell ringing through the main floor of the house startled Y/N as it’s louder than ordinary – and sounded kind of old and creepy, in her opinion. By the time the constant thud in her chest lowered to a normal speed, she could recognize Bella’s voice in the foyer, meaning she was the one who received their guest, with a deep voice following after saying 'thank you for having me'.

"He's here!" Alex clasped his hands together, a wide smile appearing in his face. Y/N followed him into the living room where Bella was already chatting animatedly with a man; tall and with broad shoulders (but not excessively; just the right amount) his figure was leaning slightly forward as he listened to Bella rambling about all the 'good things he had missed while he was away'. His hands were clasped on his back and when he lifted his head, he made direct eye contact with Y/N without even having to search for her eyes. His brown curls were perfectly placed on top of his head looking extremely soft, and when he ran his hand through it Y/N couldn’t help but swallow harshly. He undoubtedly looked like someone who belonged in Hollywood next to a young Leo DiCaprio and he was definitely older than Y/N – probably already in his 30's, she guessed, but ageing like the finest wine. He had the softest looking wrinkles in the corners of his eyes – those eyes, forest green; reminded Y/N of what used to be home for her. His intense gaze held a lot of emotion, a lot of thought, unlike his face, that appeared stiff and cold, with a slight crease between his brows. His pink, heart-shaped lips were pressed in a line, a cute mole adorning one side of his chin.

"Harry! It's so good to see you, we've missed you." Alex's excitement forced him to drift his gaze away from Y/N, leaving her like a heated teenager salivating for him. Y/N honestly thought he might had left her speechless and most likely with increasing probabilities to make a fool out of herself if someone needed her to talk, as she was certain she wouldn't be able to formulate any coherent sentences.

Harry. It totally suited him, Y/N repeated his name a couple of times inside her head to check on its pronunciation. Alex reached him and pulled him in a big hug, patting each other's back, and Harry's lips broke into a huge smile making a line of pearly white teeth appear. And dimples. God, he had dimples.

This is how I die, Y/N thought.

"So good to see you, Alex." If sex was a sound, his voice would definitely be it.

"Your skin is glowing, Harry. Italy always does you wonders." Bella gushed. And she was right – his skin had this beautiful golden undertone, but it looked natural and radiant, almost like the sun itself kissed and caressed his skin with the softest touches. Alex snapped Y/N into reality when he turned to face her and grabbed her hand to pull her closer to them, starting a long introduction no one was paying much attention to, explaining how he’d missed her arrival, like he even cared, and how she was the Au Pair they’d all been talking about ever since February. It wasn’t until Alex mentioned something about Y/N and Harry probably seeing each other a lot she was suddenly interested in what was actually going on.

“He owns the school the girl’s attend.” Alex directed towards her. Now, Y/N assumed the moment she laid eyes on him he was probably rich – who wears a suit to a Sunday dinner with friends? Rich people are weird, that’s something we can all agree on; but owning a school which’s monthly fees per kid were worth three of her salaries? That was quite unexpected.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Harry." Y/N offered him her hand, trying to sound as casual as possible, even if her skin felt like it was burning under his intense gaze and her eyes were definitely betraying her.

"The pleasure’s all mine, Y/N." He shook her hand. His strong hold sent shivers down her spine; the cold rings making a big contrast against the heat his hand radiated and she couldn't help but fantasize about how his touch would feel in some other places.

The sudden embarrassment feeling hot against her cheeks made her turn around impossibly faster, feeling guilty at the dirty thoughts consuming her brain while around her bosses – and in front of him. Making a beeline straight to her room, announcing she was calling it a night, she sent Harry a quick -but quite charming- smile, and couldn’t help but soften at the sound of Anya running down the stairs yelling an excited ‘Harryyyy’ once she was past the kitchen.

She knew she got lucky with her commodities – an entire studio-like apartment past the main kitchen of the house, where the servant’s area used to be located a handful of decades ago; but she cussed in a whisper when she remembered half way through her making of a sandwich (four hours after she’d retreated to her bedroom and because she decided on skipping dinner that night, not having enough energy to cook) that her lazy ass still hadn’t bought mayonnaise. Her small kitchen had enough space to hold her snacks, along with some ingredients to make a few meals, since she only had to worry about food on the weekends. Reluctantly, she took the small plate holding her sandwich and made her way towards the main kitchen. There was no way in hell she’d eat a sandwich with no mayo – never in a million years, too dry to go down her throat.

I guess they won't mind if I grab just enough to put on my sandwich, she thought. The house was quiet, everyone probably already in bed, therefore she almost pissed herself when she found Harry sitting in one of the kitchen stools, looking down at his phone with an annoyed expression adorning his face. Almost as if he could sense someone was in the same room, he looked up to find Y/N standing at the kitchen threshold, his face abandoning any sort of emotion.

"Hey."

"Hi." Y/N walked towards the fridge on the far right of the kitchen, opposite from where she came in. "Sorry, I thought no one was here."

"Don't worry, just waiting for Bella and Alex to come back down to have some tea, they're putting the girls to sleep. Would you like to join us?" He offered. And honestly, she'd love to say yes and just listen to him talk with that deep, melodic voice, but her stomach was really hating her right now.

"I'm good, just grabbing some mayo. Thank you, though." She declined with a small smile.

"Next time." He sounded more demanding than suggesting, which slightly baffled Y/N. "Can I ask where you are from?" He asked respectfully.

"A small town in the Argentine Patagonia." Y/N replied with her back facing him as she busied herself with the mayonnaise container.

"Never been to Argentina. Or anywhere in South America, actually." And when Y/N turned around, sandwich in hand ready to go back to her room, their eyes met across the kitchen and she felt the heat creeping up her neck for the second time that night. Y/N wondered how his gaze was always this intense – she wasn’t a fan of how they’d barely exchanged a few words and somehow she felt so exposed.

"You should. It's beautiful." She almost, almost, choked on her own words and when she looked down at her fuzzy pink socks and back to him to try and calm her growing nerves down, he surprised her when she caught him looking up and down her body – in any other case she definitely would’ve felt creeped out, but there was something about him, the fact that he definitely didn’t do it with the intention of her catching him (she noticed how he shifted uncomfortably on his seat after the exchange) and how he simply added a “I’m sure it is," afterwards, she knew she was fucked right then and there – she wanted him looking at her. Was that something bad?

But then – then she remembered how she was wearing her soft cotton pajamas, and she began wondering if he was just laughing internally at her outfit instead of checking her out like she initially thought. And just like a save from heaven, Bella and Alex appeared in the kitchen discussing who was picking Ivy up from her friend's house. "Hi Y/N, still awake?"

"Yeah, got hungry. Stole a bit of mayo, hope you don't mind." She shyly held the plate up.

"Please, this is your house too." Alex waved her off.

"Thanks. Gonna go back now." Y/N pointed towards the small hallway that led to her room. "Goodnight." Turning her body to walk away, she caught Harry's eyes, again, still staring at her, but decided on simply walking away, breaking eye contact, making that small interaction their last one for the night.

&

The following week consisted of Anya and Y/N playing lots of fun games, trying to get a word out of Charlie and Ivy ignoring her for the most part. Her relationship with each of them was completely different, each trusting her at their own peace, getting used to having a stranger around. Anya seemed the only one openly excited to hang out with Y/N every day, and even though she could tell Charlie didn't exactly mind her presence, she still hadn't talked to her as much as she'd like her to.

"What are you up to, Charlie?" Y/N asked the seven year old as she sat next to her in the big playroom they had on the main floor. Charlie kept her gaze locked on her drawing with a handful of crayons on her right hand as she drew with her left. "You're left handed? That's so cool!" Bella had mentioned some time ago that Charlie had a really hard time letting people in, Y/N knew it'd take some time for her to see her as a friend -like she wanted her to- rather than someone who gets paid to hang out with her, but Bella confessed Charlie was actually really excited to meet Y/N, which felt like a small relief, knowing she actually wanted her there – unlike Ivy. Charlie spoke only when necessary and struggled with making friends but her psych pedagogue said she's just really shy and that ‘once she breaks out of her shell, she's unstoppable’. "I love the birds you drew here." Y/N pointed at some small birds sitting in a tree branch.

"Bluebirds." She murmured.

Getting a single word from her was considered progress, in Y/N’s opinion, but that’s all she got for the entire afternoon – even after constantly sending comments her way while playing with Anya so Charlie wouldn’t feel left out, not a single word came out of her mouth. Anya mentioned Harry at some point while talking about her favorite doll (which Harry had gifted her for her 3rd birthday) and the flash of captivating green eyes almost blinded her internally (she couldn’t deny she’d thought about Harry every once in a while this past week)

And it wasn’t until later that same day, after spending a long while sitting alone in a nearby park, she got the chance to see him again – even if he had scared her (almost) to death, she couldn’t help but feel an annoying flutter in her stomach.

She would like to say she loved her long walks during the most unreasonable times at night, but her reasoning behind her late night needs of distraction didn’t exactly thrill her. It was during the quietest and most peaceful times of the day when her mind seemed to speed faster than ever before; the sleepless nights and brain-wrecking thinking of how alone and empty she actually felt, along with the laziness and reluctance when it came to things that used to make her happy weighed her down like carrying a sack of potatoes on her back.

As she was walking past her neighbor's house (the one where she had seen that man with the suitcases last week) she noticed someone sitting on the large porch. Weird, she thought. She hadn't noticed any movement in the house since that night a week ago, to the point she even considered it being empty again. The silhouette seemed oddly familiar though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

"Y/N." She slightly jumped as she heard them call for her, in a strong and deep accent. Was that...

"Harry?" She asked befuddled. Did he live there? She watched as he stood up from his sitting position on the outdoor couch and walked across his front yard to take a closer look at him stopping at the bottom of the short staircase that leads to the porch. "What are you doing up so late?" And then something clicked in her brain – he was probably the man she saw that night, with his suitcases. It made sense, how he probably got home from vacation the same day he had dinner at the Lockehold's – the same day Bella mentioned something about him being in Italy

"Can't sleep." He simply replied, with a small sigh. He then nodded to the seat behind him, and Y/N could physically feel her brain going a thousand miles per minute. She sat on the far left of the couch as he retook his seat on the right, "what are you doing up so late?" He repeated her question.

And Y/N repeated his answer. "Can't sleep."

So they sat in silence, what felt like hours barely being a few seconds. "Didn't know you lived next door." Y/N took the time to take in his side profile - sharp and long nose, the tip curving slightly downwards when he spoke the next line.

"Never mentioned it." He replied apathetically. The unexpected switch in his tone made her immediately shut up, and even though it confused Y/N as to why he would want her joining him if he didn't want to talk, she was dreading going back to her room alone to drown in her thoughts again. She'd take uncomfortable company over being alone when her head got like this, it helped her get distracted; overthinking this situation instead of the same scenarios that constantly lived in her head.

They again sat in silence for a while, this time for longer than a few minutes, and even though it was slightly uncomfortable, there was an unspoken understanding between them. He just wanted company, and so did she. This time, however, it was him who tried for conversation. "Why did you choose England for your Au Pair program?"

"I was actually convinced I was going to choose France," Y/N shared with a soft tone, "but when I met the girls in one of my interviews I just knew I had to come here. Anya was so excited about meeting me, she thought it was already settled." She ended with a small smile on her lips. The memory of Anya smiling happily at her through the computer screen even when she hadn't had met her yet warming her heart.

It was true, the fact that she’d chosen England because of the girls. She wanted to learn French – she knew her way around the English language pretty well; but the French family whom interviewed her didn’t come close to the Lockehold’s at all – she thought maybe the experience of living in a whole different continent with a wonderful family was better than choosing a place because of the language – the experience was being experienced either way.

"Anya is a very special kid. They all are." Harry declared, the left corner of his mouth turning upwards in a small half smile.

Y/N nodded slowly before asking, "How long have you known them?" She could recall Alex saying he was a family friend – but she had no other information about him besides that.

"A while." The small conversation went for a long while, he shared the real reason as to why he was awake so late, explaining how he has struggled with falling asleep ever since he was young, but besides that comment, he kept his life very private; not sharing much information about himself during their chat, and every time Y/N reciprocated a question, he would either answer vaguely or didn't answer at all, changing the subject with another question. "It's really late" He commented, Y/N’s phone reading 1:08am.

"Yeah, I should probably go to bed." She lifted her head to look at him, who was already searching for her eyes. Y/N cleared her throat when a few moments passed by, again, with no one speaking a word. She wondered what could possibly be going through his head at the time, but he nodded, got up and said, "I'll see you around, Y/N." Her name flowed so nicely out of his lips it made her knees get weak. Locking herself in her bedroom (after entering it by the door at the side of the house – which leaded straight to her room) she laid in bed trying to understand why they’d just hang out in his front porch way past midnight when they clearly didn’t know each other very well – or at all, better said.

&

First day of classes came by in a heartbeat. The first Monday of September Y/N found herself getting up earlier than she was accustomed to, since the girl's sleeping schedule was different during the summer. 6:15am read her alarm when she lazily threw the soft covers off her body. A quick shower and minimal makeup application later, she stood naked next to her bed checking the weather app, as to know how to prepare the girl's clothes.

After putting a soft pink sweater on and a pair of flared jeans, Y/N left the warmth of her room to wake the girls up. Going for Charlie first (since she didn't need any help changing into her uniform and Ivy used her own alarm) she didn't give Y/N any work at all, waking up immediately after softly calling her name once. Picking her uniform from her closet and leaving it for her to change, Y/N left Charlie’s room to walk towards the next door.

"Morning, Anya." She whispered as she brushed some of her hair out of her face. Anya’s little nose scrunched up and a soft whimper left her mouth as she switched positions, now laying on her side, "gotta wake up, love." Y/N shook her arm softly, and she finally opened her eyes, a tired smile creeping up her face as she noticed it was Y/N sitting next to her. Y/N left her to rub the tiredness off her eyes while she picked her clothes (since her daycare was at the same school her older sister's attended -Harry's school, Y/N couldn't help but think- her uniform consisted of only a white t-shirt with the school logo along with any pair of bottoms she chose for the day.

After picking up her cute small rain boots and help her get dressed up, Y/N did a cute hairstyle on her with the small butterfly hair clips she chose, and went back to Charlie's room to do her hair, Anya coming along.

They arrived at their school; a big, period-like brick building with hundreds of students roaming around and a beautiful fountain at the front – which actually made Y/N’s childhood look like a big joke; the school she had attended was located in the middle of the mountains in a remote field.

"I'll be here at two thirty. Good luck, girls, I'll see you later." Ivy walked away sending a 'mhm' her way to let her know she heard her, and Charlie offered a small smile along with a wave and walked away like her sister. Y/N took Anya off her car seat and helped her get out of the car, her tiny backpack sitting on Y/N’s right shoulder as she grabbed the hand Anya offered her.

"Mommy said I have the penguins' classroom!" She said with excitement as they walked through the doors at the right wing of the building.

"That's so cool! I love penguins, let's search for the door which has penguins on it, shall we?" Y/N suggested even though she could clearly see their door at the end of the hallway.

"Yes! This one has elephants," she pointed at the door they were passing, "look, butterflies!"

"Like your hairclips!" Y/N exclaimed, and she giggled nodding her head. "Ah! Look what we found..." Y/N pointed at the next door.

"Penguins!" She skipped towards the door, dragging Y/N along. They entered the big and colorful classroom where they found some kids crying in their parent’s arms, others being as excited as Anya.

"Hi there! Anya, am I correct?" A woman who appeared to be around Y/N’s age came up to them, scrunching down to be on Anya’s eye level. She nodded frantically, excitement dripping from her smile. "My name is Miss Pia, I'm going to be your teacher this year." She introduced herself, Anya gave her an even bigger smile and slyly asked if she could go meet her classmates, to which Miss Pia agreed, asking her to first hang her small backpack in the rack at the back of the room, taking it from my hands and running excitedly to do it.

"You must be Y/N, then?" Miss Pia asked, getting back up to her feet. She was short with blonde curly hair sitting high in a ponytail, rosy cheeks and a cute teacher apron on top of her regular clothes.

"I am." Y/N offered her hand.

"The administration office said we would be having an Au Pair this year, they always give us a heads up with situations like these." She explained, and Y/N nodded as she continued, "we have the parents, nannies or in this case, Au Pairs," they both laughed," stay for the introduction, you can leave afterwards."

"Perfect, I'll sit at the back with the rest of the parents." Y/N ended up staying for about half an hour, smiling at Anya every time she turned to search for her when something exciting seemed to be happening. She won't be needing any adaptation, as Miss Pia said, and she was dismissed right before they had their first trip to the playground outside, taking advantage of the fact that it hadn't started raining yet.

Right when Y/N was walking out of the building, she spotted Harry at the main entrance, reading something on his phone. He was wearing a navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath, and he looked even more handsome in the daylight. She made her way towards him, walking up the marble stairs (marble stairs! In a school?), and when he noticed her, he put his phone away and slowly (and trying to be as discrete as possible – which he failed to, again) looked up and down her body. Something about him giving her his full attention made her insides burn, and she couldn’t help but bit her bottom lip to suppress a smile.

"Hi." She stopped in front of him, taking a moment to look at his eyes; they definitely looked a lot lighter now that there was natural light surrounding them.

"Hi." He repeated, "Dropped the girl's off?" He motioned towards the building with his head.

"Yes, just left Anya’s classroom." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Miss Pia?" He asked, squinting his eyes.

"Yes. She's nice, looks like she knows what she's doing." Y/N shrugged. She didn't exactly know her enough to have a conversation about her – and she most definitely couldn’t be one to talk, since she herself didn’t know what she was doing half of the time. “How’s the first day back been so far?” He got cut off from his next comment by his phone, and the small crease between his eyebrows grew deeper, which didn’t go unnoticed by Y/N. "I'll leave you to it." She announced, but his eyes found hers again, and it was almost like he was asking for her to not leave him to it, but Y/N didn’t trust her instincts, not with him – not when he made her so nervous her brain couldn’t process things around him, and she was scared of misreading his expressions; he was hard to read. Not like she was expert at reading people but he was frustratingly confusing.

&

They didn't see each other again until a week later on a Tuesday evening – the same day Charlie, Anya and her decided to go for a walk and treat themselves with ice cream from a cute shop across from (what had come to be) her favorite park, Harry and Y/N found each other's eyes across his front garden, just like that night, but this time it was easy for her to recognize him as she could see his face clear and glowing from the sunset shine. His eyes were glued to her until the fence that divided their houses blocked his view, and again, Y/N wondered what could be going through his head.

It wasn’t until after dinner, past her work hours, she decided to leave the house through the door on her room with the sparking curiosity to test if she would run into Harry. Stopping on the sidewalk in front of his house, she noticed he was not sitting outside, and even though that's exactly what she had expected -he was not going to sit there for hours and hours, right?- There still was a small feeling of disappointment that rushed through her, and when she snapped back into reality, it was too late to stop herself as she knocked on his front door.

And Y/N didn’t know where to hide – not like hiding would be less embarrassing but God she did hate herself that moment. The embarrassment running through her veins was painful and made her lightheaded – she knew she had trouble sometimes with not thinking things through, but this was beyond her. He barely knew her. And suddenly his door was wide open.

"Y/N?" Of course she was not lucky enough for him to be asleep and not hearing her knock – life would’ve been too in her favor for that to happen. Of course he was very awake with a half drank cup of tea in his hand and the softest looking pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. "Are you ok? You look really pale." His voice was calm, probably the softest it'd ever been in her presence. At least he doesn't sound mad, Y/N thought.

Harry wanted to be confused, but he was more curious than anything else. For some reason, he felt very intrigued by Y/N – how she seemed confident but insanely insecure at the same time; it reminded him of himself, if he had to be honest. He just learned how to hide the latter.

"Uh, yeah- um, I was-" she nervously turned around halfway to look behind her and back at him again. He raised his eyebrows in curiosity and Y/N really tried her hardest not to step over her words. "I was about to go for a walk, uh, I was wondering if you'd like to join me?" Stupid. So, so stupid, Y/N thought.

"No, I'm good." He replied, finding oh-so-amusing the way her eyes gave her embarrassment away – he was having fun, watching her like a lost puppy trying to think through her next words.

Her mind was, of course, over speeding. She now felt even more embarrassed. Of course he doesn't want to go for a walk, Y/N conscience spoke to her, it's a Tuesday night and he's probably tired and I'm his friends' Au Pair – he probably thinks I'm this young and annoying girl who has a stupid crush and- "would you like to join me?" He interrupted her self-beating up raising his cup and she noticed the half smile adorning his face, almost like he could tell the wheels in her brain were fast-moving.

"Wouldn't want to interrupt-"

"You're not. I wouldn't have invited you in if you were. C'mon in, now. It's kinda cold out here." He disappeared inside of his house, leaving her on his porch with an open mouth and a blank brain. After closing the door behind her and taking her black vans off, she turned on her left as she guessed that was the way Harry went – and she knew she’d guessed correctly when she stepped into a big open-plan concept living room with a giant kitchen on the far back, Harry standing with his back towards her preparing her tea, "sugar?"

"No, thank you." She sat in one of the stools at the kitchen island as she took the scene in front of her. Her very cute (and much older), very hot neighbor Harry, in sweatpants and a very thin white shirt, a small patch of skin showing on his hip, making her tea. His shoulders were broad and she could see his back muscles moving as he poured steaming hot water into the cup, the little curls on his neck so inviting, if only she could run her hand through his soft looking hair just once-

"There you go. Cardamom." He snapped her out of her (probably inappropriate) thoughts, and she thanked him as she grabbed the cup from where he placed it; he stayed in his position standing in front of her on the other side of the island, with his forearms against the cold marble, sipping on his own mug, thinking about how strange it felt to have someone he wasn’t close with sitting in his kitchen after so long. "Why are you up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"I figured. I couldn't either, looks like we both have a bit of sleeping issues, huh?" He sounded playful, but tired. Y/N knew exactly how it felt, being so tired but not being able to peacefully go to bed and get some needed rest.

"I remember you mentioning it before, I figured I'd check if you were up. Walking helps me relax, thought maybe you'd enjoy it too." OK, that wasn't entirely true but her reasoning to be there was quite similar – to check if he was up so they could, maybe, share a quiet night like that one a few weeks ago. None of them understood why they found such comfort in each other’s company – none of them felt like they needed to try too hard.

At some point during their conversation they moved to the couch, where they laid with a wide gap between their bodies. "Elton John's was definitely an interesting read. Lots of crazy anecdotes, you should read it."

"Probably not as good as Keith's, but I'll give it a go." He let a dimpled smile creep into his face, turning his head to look at her from across the couch and the annoying turn her stomach made obliged her to return it, just as bright as his. Finding out their music taste was quite similar made Y/N’s insides all warm and fuzzy, he showed her his vinyl collection (which was quite large) and ranted about how the modern industry was missing a rock star with some of that unexplainable essence old rock bands have – to which she respond saying maybe that something that makes them special was the fact that they were old bands... added to the fact that even though she was an old music lover, modern pop was her guilty pleasure.

Their third teacups were long forgotten on the modern coffee table by the time he noticed Y/N’s eyes were slowly beginning to close and he, as last time, said, "it's really late." And Y/N only nodded and tiredly got up from her position, with him following close behind.

"Goodnight, Harry. Thank you for having me even though I came unannounced." She shyly said, her actions still making her embarrassed even though it had already been a couple of hours.

"My pleasure. We should- do this again," He coughed into his hand, and uncomfortably continued, "I enjoy your company." That sentence alone made her heart explode with a thousand emotions, because even though they barely knew each other and it clearly pained him to admit he enjoyed having her around, his presence made her calm but anxious in a peculiar mixture of emotions. All she did in return was gift him a big smile, face hot of embarrassment (a nice kind of embarrassment, that feeling when you just want to smile really big and tightly hug whoever is making you feel that way) and slowly pushed herself up on her tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Bye." He said lastly, and closed his front door with red cheeks and dimples on display.

- Joey.

[jingabitch]

Let Love Be Enough

SUMMARY: On the day of your daughter’s wedding, you can’t avoid Taehyung.

PAIRING: ex-husband!Taehyung x reader

GENRE: angst, smut

RATING: E

WARNINGS: angst | infidelity | arguing | smut | unprotected sex | use of flashbacks im not sure about | emotional sex | crying during sex

WORD COUNT: 9.4k

A/N: i hope you guys like this!! i was pretty uncertain about posting it because it’s not really like my other work, and I wasn’t sure if i was doing the flashbacks well. Thank you to my lovely betas @taetaesbaebaepsae​ @detectivebts​ @sweetnspicy93 and @moonmintrails​, @dreamystuffers​ for the banner and @kigurumu​ and @jkeuphoriadreamland​ for encouraging me to post it!! Without them the preview wouldn’t even have made it onto Tumblr.

“You look beautiful today, baby.” You were barely holding it together at this point, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling and ruining your makeup. In all fairness to you, your baby girl was getting married. Sunmi looked resplendent in her designer dress, and the entire ceremony was amazing. No expense had been spared – after all, it wasn’t every day that Kim Taehyung’s only daughter got married.

“Thank you, mom,” Sunmi said, squeezing your hand, her own eyes looking a little glossy.

“I’m so proud of you, sweetheart, and I love you so much.”

Your heartfelt moment with your daughter was interrupted by her father knocking and entering the door. Even after all these years, Taehyung was handsome and stately, and looking at him made your heart skip a beat. The graying of his hair didn’t detract from his attractiveness, giving him a distinguished air, and the crow’s feet had the same effect.

It was really too bad he was your ex-husband.

The thought made your expression tighten, although in the name of maintaining a cordial façade, you kept the smile on your face. “Taehyung,” you greeted coolly. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” you said, turning back to Sunmi and squeezing her shoulder. Normally, you’d have kissed her on the cheek but you didn’t want to mess up her makeup or yours.

“Y/n, please stay.” Taehyung tried to stop you, but you were insistent, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind you. Leaning your back against the solid wood, you let out a gusty sigh, his words having brought back memories you’d really prefer to leave behind.

-----------------------------

“Y/n, please stay,” Taehyung begged, both hands grabbing yours as tears streamed down his face. You were equally determined to leave, though – the room, the country, the marriage you’d just witnessed imploding in front of your eyes.

Why, why had you thought that it would be a good idea to come surprise Taehyung on the last day of his tour? Your eyes met the gaze of the other woman in his hotel room over his head. She was perched on the bed, watching with rapt attention at what was happening, and you could just hear the thoughts going through her head.

So this is what Kim Taehyung’s fabled wife looks like, you could see it written all over her face. She’s nothing compared to me.

And she was right, you knew. She was in her early twenties, perfectly made up and coiffed, wearing a tight miniskirt you could have poured yourself into ten years ago but couldn’t anymore. In the teddy you’d bought specially for tonight, you knew she could see every tiny detail of your body, even the bits you didn’t really like, like the stretch marks visible under the sheer fabric of your belly and the thighs that weren’t as firm as they’d been when you first started dating Taehyung.

“Taehyung, let go.” They were the first words you’d said to him tonight, and they just made him cling to you harder as he sobbed. You gritted your teeth and pulled your hand back. If you didn’t get out of here soon, you would burst into tears right alongside him, and you didn’t want to show him that side of you. Not anymore.

Not after he’d betrayed your trust so completely with another woman.

He shook his head frantically. “No, please, please.” You could barely make out the words, he was crying so hard. Part of you wanted to drop to your knees next to him to comfort him, pull him into your arms and rock back and forth. You’d been together for twelve years, after all, and old habits die hard.

But another glance at the hookup he’d brought back to his hotel room made up your mind. He certainly hadn’t cared about your relationship or his vows tonight, finding another girl to warm his bed. Sure, your relationship hadn’t been great for a while, and you took full ownership of your part of the blame for the state of your marriage, but you’d wanted to work on it. You’d flown to the States tonight to make it up to him, show him that you still cared, that you loved him and wanted to put in the effort to make things right.

Instead, you’d found him blowing up your marriage.

“My lawyers will contact yours.” It was the last thing you said before making your escape, the tears falling down your face the moment the door swung shut after you.

-----------------------------

“I’m sorry, Dad,” Sunmi said, taking in the dejected slant of Taehyung’s shoulders. The two of you had divorced when she was seven, and she’d never gotten the full story, but you could barely stand to be in the same room as your ex-husband. You were civil when necessary, but you avoided him as much as possible. It was such a far cry from her memories of when you two were together, when you’d been so close and happy.

“No, it’s okay.” Taehyung waved it away, forcing a smile out even though Sunmi could see that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Today is about you, my love.” Turning to her, he pushed thoughts of his troubled relationship with you out of his mind so that he could pay his daughter the attention she deserved.

Sunmi still watched her father with concern, though, knowing how he got around you. It was a melancholy he wasn’t able to shake until hours after the fact, and it didn’t seem like it had gotten easier for either of you in the twenty years since you’d split up. Sure, you were able to put up a nice front when you couldn’t avoid each other, like at her dance recitals and graduation, but it was clear that neither of you had gotten closure from the divorce.

“Daddy…” Sunmi started, but Taehyung cut her off before she could say anything more.

“You’re so beautiful today, love. You look just like your mother.” Leaning in, he pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

“Thank you, daddy,” Sunmi said, starting to sniffle a little.

-----------------------------

From the moment Sunmi had entered this world, Taehyung had known two things: that she was the spitting image of her mother, and that he was, from that moment, irrevocably wrapped around her little finger.

He’d laughed about it with you, too – how much he loved spoiling her, how hard a time he had telling her no. Taehyung was a devoted father, had been from the start. He’d taken a year off from performing and promoting when she was born so that he could stay in Korea with his new family, especially after the difficult birth you’d had.

You both agreed that you would wait a few years before having more children. Pregnancy and childbirth had been difficult for you, and you weren’t quite ready to go through it again, especially now that you had a young daughter to look after. Still, you were equally committed to having a large family, something you’d been talking about since before marriage.

It was a shock, therefore, to find out after a year of trying for your second child that apparently it would be almost impossible for you to conceive and carry another child to term. You were devastated and so was Taehyung, and, admittedly, neither of you had handled it in the best way.

You could barely stand to look at Taehyung for months after, the guilt of not being able to give him what he wanted and the weight of your own disappointment too much for you to bear. You focused all your attention instead on the daughter you already had in a bid to avoid your husband, and you’d be the first to admit that that hadn’t been the best way to deal with things. Not when Taehyung was grieving the loss of his dream too.

With his wife slipping, it seemed, further out of reach every day, Taehyung did the only thing it felt like he could do. He threw himself into his work, which was made easier by the fact that Jungkook was away serving in the military and Namjoon’s wife had just given birth to the couple’s first child.

By the time he left for that world tour, you were barely speaking to your husband and it felt like you were roommates and acquaintances more than husband and wife. He wanted to fix it, but he didn’t know how to, and you were stubbornly resistant to any attempts to reconcile. It was frustrating, to say the least – he wanted to be there for you, but he didn’t know how to help.

-----------------------------

Taehyung, seated at the table with his family and former band members, watched wistfully as you stood up to toast the happy couple. He didn’t think he’d seen you smile so happily since before the divorce, back when things had been good between the two of you.

“Sunmi and Michael,” you started. “I want to start by congratulating you both. Today has been a beautiful day, and the love you have for each other and for everyone here today is so evident.”

“I remember when Sunmi told me that she was dating Michael – she was only a freshman in college in a foreign country, and I was excited and supportive, but at the time, I had no idea that this relationship would go so far. You have overcome so many obstacles to be together, some of which I’ve witnessed, and many, I’m sure, that I haven’t. Nevertheless, I can see that what you two share is a deep, strong love, that will withstand the test of time.

“If I may, as a mother, offer some advice – although I might not be the best person to give relationship advice,” you added wryly, to chuckles from the crowd, “I know you have the basics covered. Be slow to anger and quick to forgive and remember that you’re a team. But,” you went on, your eyes flicking to Taehyung just for a second, “marriage is difficult, and it takes work. Trust that you’ve got each other’s backs, and communicate about everything, no matter how hard it seems at the time.”

Taehyung’s gaze softened, knowing that it was an implicit apology for your role in the breakdown of your marriage. He was the one who’d ultimately blown it up, something he’d accepted a long time ago, but neither of you had acted like model spouses.

“I believe with all my heart that this is a relationship that will go the distance, and it is my honour to make the first toast to the happy couple!” You concluded, raising your glass of champagne. Everyone in the room followed suit, and you smiled again at them before sitting down.

Jimin leaned over. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replied quietly. He was better than okay. In fact, he felt lighter than he had in years.

-----------------------------

“Are you sure this is okay?” you asked for what must have been the hundredth time today. Taehyung couldn’t quite blame you – when you’d gotten married, you’d given up your dream of a family picnic along the Han River Park. There was no way in hell Kim Taehyung wouldn’t be recognized in a public place like that, so it wasn’t feasible at all.

It wasn’t like you were giving up a whole lot – he could afford to take your whole family to resorts, safaris, you name it. Still, the little girl in you that had so many precious memories at the Han River Park with your own family and friends wanted to recreate it with your own children.

Which was why he’d made this plan for your fifth anniversary. He’d called your assistant to let her know to cancel all your appointments today and booked out the entire park so you could finally have the family picnic you’d always dreamed of. It wouldn’t be exactly the same, of course. The rest of the park was basically deserted. But this was so much more than you’d expected, and you almost couldn’t believe that he’d managed to do this.

When you expressed this to your husband, he just smugly noted that you continued to underestimate him even after eight years of being together.

“Of course,” you noted drily. “You are the very epitome of extra.” Still, you leaned over Sunmi’s head to kiss him in a manner that suggested that you’d be doing a lot more if not for the child sitting between you.

“Mommy!” Sunmi cried shrilly, and you broke away from your husband to give your daughter the attention she demanded.

“Yes, baby?”

“I wanna ride the bicycle!” Sunmi told you, pointing out the car window at the bike rental shop.

“Okay, baby,” you agreed easily.

After the bicycle ride, you settled down for a picnic, letting Sunmi gorge herself on fried chicken and delivery food that she rarely got to indulge in because you were all about feeding her a nutritious, balanced diet.

By the time you left the park that evening, Sunmi was fast asleep in her daddy’s arms while you cleared your picnic area and walked next to Taehyung back to the car. The sunset painted the sky bright pink and orange, the fiery ball of the sun disappearing behind the bridge.

“Thank you for today, Tae,” you said, resting your hand on the small of his back as you stretched up to kiss him.

“It was my pleasure. Happy anniversary, my love.”

“Happy anniversary, Tae. I love you.”

-----------------------------

Watching from your table as the happy couple enjoyed their first dance together, you reached for your glass of wine. Being the mother of the bride was hard work, and you were taking the moment to appreciate that everything seemed to have gone off without a hitch. You had to give Taehyung credit where it was due – he’d always been a good father, and despite everything that had happened between you, he’d never let anything get in the way of his responsibilities as a dad. He’d truly spared no expense when it came to the wedding, and it showed.

After the first dance, the rest of the guests were invited to dance too, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You hadn’t brought a date to the wedding, not wanting to cause any drama with your ex-husband, his family and band members, and it seemed like he hadn’t either.

You didn’t make a habit of prying into his personal life – ever since the divorce, your interactions had been solely about Sunmi. You regretted it a little now, realizing that you’d lost your husband and best friend in one fell swoop, but back then, you’d been so hurt and angry, wanting to punish him as much as you’d needed the space to heal. In fact, this was the longest you’d been in the same room with him since the divorce proceedings.

-----------------------------

It was cold in the meeting room, and the air conditioning unit was incredibly loud, you noted mechanically. You looked around anxiously, picking at the skin around your nails – an awful habit that Taehyung had tried without avail for years to get you to quit. It was just you and your lawyer in here right now, since you’d come a little early to discuss the case with her, but you were expecting Taehyung to come in any moment now.

He didn’t want the divorce, you knew that. You could still hear his sobs ringing in your ears from the last time you’d met, when he chased you back to Korea and tried to apologize, explain, grovel.

When Taehyung and his lawyer came in, you stood up out of politeness, shaking hands with the lawyer.

“Taehyung,” you greeted tightly, your body wound tight. Your fight-or-flight instinct was already activated, and you were ready to throw down if necessary. Not that you really thought it’d be needed, but you really didn’t want him trying to cajole you out of this. Your mind was made up. How could your relationship continue if you couldn’t trust him anymore?

“Y/n,” he replied. You could hear the slight wobble in his voice, and for just a second, you felt bad. Despite everything that had happened, you still loved him, and some part of you didn’t want to hurt him. In fact, you had to fight the urge to round the table and pull him into a hug, like you’d used to when he was upset.

Swallowing hard, you took your seat instead, clasping your hands tightly together in your lap. You’d lost that right when you decided to end the marriage, you reminded yourself. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to comfort him. You couldn’t anymore, not when you were the cause of his pain. You’d never wanted to be that to him, but that was neither here nor there – you hadn’t wanted to catch your husband hooking up with another woman in a random hotel room either.

To your surprise, the division of assets went more smoothly than you’d expected. You’d heard horror stories of ridiculous fighting over every last penny and had steeled yourself for that. After all, despite your own professional success it was clear to everyone that the bulk of your combined income as a couple came from Taehyung. It wasn’t that you wanted to take him through the wringer or anything like that, but you didn’t want to be left out on the streets with Sunmi either.

There was no question that you would be awarded primary custody of your daughter – Taehyung’s job took him overseas for extended periods of time, even taking into account the fact that the group was slowing down now as the demands of real life grew.

The division of assets was challenging, but you ran into the opposite problem from what you had feared. Taehyung, once he’d accepted that this divorce was happening, seemed intent on heaping wealth on you. He tried to offer you the house – which you rejected, instead asking for an apartment that you jointly owned instead. The house would be difficult to maintain, you reasoned, which led to him offering to pay for all maintenance and even for cleaners. You also had to bargain the alimony payments down, to the surprise and amusement of your lawyers. You didn’t need any money from him, you maintained, though you did accept child support.

Still, because there was so little fighting between the two of you, it was over quickly, and the one meeting was enough to settle everything. The lawyers excused themselves, telling you that the final divorce agreement would be sent to you both to sign, and then you were alone.

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s voice was filled with anguish and sadness. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” you acknowledged, swallowing back the tears.

“Do we have to do this? You know I’ll do whatever it takes for you to forgive me,” he pleaded. “I’ll quit the band, we can go for couples therapy… please, just don’t leave me.”

“Tae…” It was the last time you would call him that. “I can’t trust you anymore, you know that.”

“I understand.” It didn’t mean he liked it, though.

Reaching over, you squeezed his hand. You withdrew more slowly than was strictly necessary, but still too quickly for him, and he felt the loss of the warmth from your hand as if in slow motion, fighting back the almost desperate urge to cling to you and never let you leave him, because when you walked out the door, it would really be over.

But you didn’t want him anymore, and nothing he said could change your mind. He watched quietly as you left, taking in every detail of your departing figure before the closing door obstructed his vision, before he broke down in tears.

-----------------------------

With enough time and distance, you could admit that Taehyung was the love of your life. You’d had boyfriends before and after him, but no one had ever made you feel the way he had, like you were soaring above the ground, but unafraid because you knew he would be there to catch you.

Maybe that was why you’d fallen so hard, been hurt so badly. The betrayal coming from the person who’d sworn never to dishonor you had cut you open, and you’d never healed right.

Everyone at your table had gotten up to join the dance floor now, and you were sitting alone, watching.

Looking around, you signaled for a waiter to top up your glass of wine. Now that everything was pretty much done, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to get a little drunk – just to take the edge off the day you’d been having. As nice as the day had been and as proud as you were to watch your baby girl getting married… these events were difficult for you.

You kept remembering your own wedding day, when you’d been so incandescently happy to be marrying Taehyung. Back then, you too had thought you were entering a union that would last a lifetime. But your marriage had been unable to withstand the challenges that life had thrown at you, and all you’d been left with at the end was the broken shambles of a life to pick up and try to piece back together even though there was a giant hole in it.

You were frowning into your glass of wine when Taehyung came to sit next to you. “Hey,” he said quietly, and you turned your head to look at him.

“Hello,” you responded, your voice polite but cold, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you alone. You’d truly had enough, and you didn’t have the emotional strength today to sit and make small talk with Taehyung. Even after so many years, the wounds were still raw and painful.

If your ex-husband was anything, however, it was persistent. “It was a beautiful ceremony,” he pressed on.

“It was,” you agreed coolly. Your hands were resting on the table, and you moved them into your lap, fisting them in the fabric of your dress.

“It made me think of the day we got married.”

Before you knew it, you’d shot out of your seat, the visceral distress at hearing him say those words giving you a jolt of adrenaline. You had to get out of there. “Taehyung, please stop.”

“Y/n, please. You’ve basically ignored my existence for twenty years. I miss you. If you won’t give me anything else, at least let me talk to you tonight.”

When you opened your mouth to speak, your throat felt tight, and you knew you were going to cry. “I—I can’t,” you choked out, before bolting. You streaked out of the ballroom, your body on autopilot, the only thing on your mind getting out of there.

Taehyung watched as you ran from him, guilt stealing over his features. He’d never meant to cause you pain, now or then, but it seemed that was all he was able to do. All he’d been doing for a long time.

He looked around, wondering if anyone had noticed your disappearance and was going to go look for you, but it didn’t look like it – Sunmi and her husband were still wrapped up in each other, as they should be, and almost everyone else was either dancing or at the bar, already drunk.

Sighing, he got out of his seat. He was reluctant to chase you down since his insistence on speaking to you was what had upset you in the first place, but there was nobody else to do it. He just hoped that he would be able to hold it together to actually help you.

You might have let your body carry you wherever it wanted to go, but Taehyung walked with purpose. He had a pretty good idea of where you were, and his hunch was proven right when he saw you pacing by the pool. For some reason, you’d always had an affinity for pools.

“Y/n,” he called out, and you stopped your pacing to turn around.

“How did you find me so quickly?” you asked with a frown, and he shrugged.

“You haven’t changed much in twenty years.”

-----------------------------

Taehyung swallowed hard as he looked up at the house. For almost ten years now, this had been his home. But now as he approached, fishing his keys out of his backpack, he couldn’t help the trepidation that filled him, making his hands shake and his heart pound.

He didn’t know what to say to you, didn’t know how to fix this. With his heart sinking into his stomach, he admitted to himself for the first time that maybe this couldn’t be fixed.

God, he didn’t even know why he’d done that, gone out to get drunk and find some other girl to hook up with. He’d just been so lonely, and it had been so long since he’d had sex. Even before the tour, which had been nine months long, you two had been on such bad terms that you hadn’t slept together in months. It didn’t excuse his appalling lapse in judgement, though.

With a sigh, he opened the door and stepped into the house, breathing a sigh of relief when he saw all your shoes, still lined up neatly on the shelves. So, you hadn’t left, then.

Dropping his things on the floor, he made his way through the house. At the beginning of your relationship, he might have checked the bedroom or the couch – any of the usual places where someone might be moping – but now he knew better.

Just as he’d expected, you were sitting in a lounge chair by the pool out back, a bottle and a single wine glass on the side table next to you. You turned your head when you heard the sound of the door opening, though you didn’t bother greeting him. The pool area was dark, lit only by the moon and the light shining through the windows in the house.

As he drew closer, he saw that your face was stained with tears, but your eyes were dry.

“Y/n,” he greeted uncertainly, drawing closer.

“You’re here,” you observed, your voice impassive. No hello, no welcome home.

“I had to talk to you, to apologize. Please, Y/n, I—” In his desperation, his voice grew louder, and in response you drew back, folding your arms across your chest and pulling your legs in, turning your face away from his stubbornly.

“I think everything there is to be said has been said.”

“No, Y/n, please, it was a mistake, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” Taehyung sat at the edge of the lounge chair, and your shoulders hunched over more tightly, betraying your discomfort.

“Well, you did. Please leave,” you requested.

“Y/n, please, talk to me,” he begged, reaching out to put his hand on your knee, before thinking better of it and pulling back. His fists clenched in his lap.

“I said everything I had to say last night. I don’t want to see you right now.” Your voice was tightly controlled. You didn’t want him to see you falling apart. He didn’t get to know how heartbroken you were, how he’d destroyed you.

“Divorce?! Y/n, please. I made a mistake and I know it was bad, but we can get through this, can’t we? We can figure it out. I’ll do anything, I swear.” His voice trembled helplessly, and he felt cold all over. It felt like he was falling to pieces in front of you, and you wouldn’t help. “I’ll work to earn your forgiveness, I swear.” You could hear the earnestness in his voice and knew that he was telling the truth. If Taehyung was anything, it was a hard worker, and you knew he would dedicate himself to this task like he’d never done before.

But it wasn’t enough. “I can’t. I can’t get past this, Taehyung.” With those words, you got up and walked away from him again, leaving him in the dark. By the time he managed to marshal the strength to move his body, you were gone from the house. He didn’t see you again until the division of assets.

-----------------------------

“Taehyung…” Your voice trailed off, your shoulders hunching around your ears uncomfortably. You knew you were both recalling that night, when he’d begged you to forgive him, or at least give him a chance to earn your forgiveness, and you’d rejected him flatly.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” His next words surprised you somewhat. You’d been expecting him to continue with your earlier topic of conversation. This, though, wasn’t necessarily better. The words echoed in your head and turned into his desperate, sobbed apologies of twenty years ago. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You inclined your head in a stiff nod, grudgingly accepting his apology and hoping he would leave you to your thoughts. Why did he still do this to you? He’d been your ex-husband now for longer than you’d been together, and yet you remained so easily affected by him.

Damn Kim Taehyung, you thought suddenly, viciously. He’d sunk his claws into you thirty-two years ago and had never let you go. With the sudden flash of anger and resentment fueling you, you bit out, “You never do.”

Right in front of your eyes, Taehyung seemed to deflate. His shoulders slumped and he put his hands in his pocket, head bowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. When you made your speech earlier, he’d genuinely thought that you were extending an olive branch to him. It was why he’d tried again to talk to you. It seemed like, not for the first time, he was wrong. “I’ll leave you alone, then.”

With that, he turned and started to walk away. Cursing your inability to let him go, you called out to him. “Wait, Taehyung.”

He spun around so quickly you felt a little dizzy on his behalf. “What is it?” he asked earnestly, his eyes wide.

“That was mean of me to say, and it was uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

He shrugged awkwardly, scuffing his shoe on the floor. “Don’t be. I understand that you still hate me. I would too.”

Since it seemed like tonight was a night for spilling secrets, yours tumbled out of your mouth thoughtlessly. “I don’t hate you. I couldn’t.”

His reaction was so dramatic it was almost comical. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped, and he took a half-step towards you before stopping short, not sure what to do with that information. “But—but you…”

Cringing as awareness of what you’d told him filtered back into your brain, you turned away, trying to hide your embarrassment.

“Y/n, talk to me, please,” he pleaded. “I just want to understand.” You could hear from his voice and footsteps that he was approaching you, and he stopped just a few paces away, wanting to be closer but trying not to overcrowd you.

“Stop it, Tae,” you said, the old nickname slipping out in your distraction. It didn’t even register with you as you grappled with your emotions, trying to rein them in, but he had to moderate his voice to stop the joy from coming through.

“If you tell me to go I will, Y/n, but I’m just curious. I’ve spent the past twenty years thinking you hated me for what I did. I mean, you’ve barely been able to look at me for all this time.”

“Taehyung…” You turned back to him, then noted the intensity of his gaze with some surprise. It compelled you to speak, like it always had. “I never hated you. I couldn’t. I can’t.”

“Then… then why?” His voice broke on the last word, his voice filled with hurt and confusion.

You gave him a small shrug. “I couldn’t trust you anymore.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You don’t understand why I didn’t think you were trustworthy after finding you about to hook up with a girl while you were on tour?” You rolled your eyes derisively. “It’s not rocket science, Tae. Was that even the first time?”

“What—Yes!” he yelled. “I swear to God, Y/n. It was a mistake. A shitty, terrible mistake, and one that I apologized for a million times. But you wouldn’t even listen to me, and I thought it was because you hated me, but now… we could have worked this out, couldn’t we?” The raw longing in his voice made you look away from him, because your eyes were filling with tears.

“Stop it,” you choked. “This is ancient history. There’s no point in bringing it up.”

“Y/n, it may be ‘ancient history’ to you, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about it. I love you, and I never stopped, even though everything went so wrong. I know you don’t have to do this. You can walk away right now, and I won’t chase you, I swear. But if you don’t mind, I really, really want to know what was going through your mind then.”

You bit your lip, your face still turned away from him, as you thought about it. For twenty years you’d hidden your tears from him, but if you decided to accede to his request, that ended tonight. Were you strong enough?

“Love… isn’t enough for a relationship, Tae. How was I supposed to trust you after what I saw?” You picked at an imaginary loose thread on your dress.

“Love? You still loved me after that?” Incredulity coloured his voice. You didn’t blame him – you hadn’t exactly shown it, instead pushing him away relentlessly.

“Taehyung…” Your voice caught. You’d always known, intellectually, that you’d hurt him, but seeing his anguish written all over his face made it real. “You’re the love of my life. I could never stop loving you.”

“Y/n…” Taehyung felt like his soul had left his body. Moving completely on autopilot, he took a step forward, then another, until he was standing right in front of you, one hand on your waist. “Please,” he whispered, his other hand cupping your cheek, before leaning down to kiss you.

You wanted to push him away and run off, screaming, but instead your eyes fluttered shut as he brushed his lips against yours gently, your hands reaching out to grasp his shirt. “Tae,” you said, your voice basically a wisp of air, when he pulled back.

“Thank you,” he rasped, starting to step back. As pathetic as it sounded, that tiny, chaste kiss was enough to last him the rest of his life.

It wasn’t enough for you, though. You’d forgotten – forced yourself to forget – what it felt like to have him pressed against you, towering over you, worshipping you with every caress. All of that had been tainted when you saw him with that other nameless girl, but having him here with you now, twenty years later, you felt the first inklings of doubt. After so much time and everything that had happened, he was still here with you, begging you to talk to him. It was clear that he loved you and you certainly felt the same way about him, and for the first time, you asked yourself – could love be enough?

When he made to move away, you tightened your fingers in the fabric of his shirt, holding him close. Taehyung looked down at you with surprise. “Y/n… what is it?” he asked.

Instead of answering him in words, you pulled him flush to your body and kissed him again, releasing his shirt in favour of winding your arms around his neck as his body collided into yours. Unlike the last one, this wasn’t a gentle, chaste peck. Your kiss was filled with all the longing and passion of the past twenty years, and Taehyung couldn’t help but react, his hands gripping your waist as he deepened the kiss hungrily.

You moaned into the kiss, a high-pitched, needy sound, as your arms tightened around his neck, pulling him yet closer to you. Hearing it, Taehyung tightened his grip on your waist, shuddering as he rolled his hips helplessly against you.

Breaking away from the kiss, Taehyung rested his forehead against yours, your breath mingling with his in the small space between your faces. “Y/n,” he panted.

“Tae,” you whined, your arms dropping to your sides as you hooked your fingers in his belt loops. “I missed you so much.”

He swore under his breath. This seemed like the reconciliation he’d dreamed of for so many years, but something was off. He’d always been able to tell with you, and he knew he didn’t have the whole story yet. It would be irresponsible and selfish for him to pursue this while you were clearly still in a fragile state, and as much as some dark part of him wanted to, he couldn’t do that to you.

So he took a step back and sucked in a deep breath to regain his composure – then almost lost it promptly when he saw you staring at him with that dark, intense gaze that haunted his dreams. “Stop looking at me like that,” he grumbled, ducking his head to hide his flush. “I’m trying to be good.”

“Could have tried that twenty years ago,” you muttered, but Taehyung, being so close to you, heard. The words cut through the haze in his mind like a knife and he dropped his arms to his sides immediately, turning away from you to hide how much your words had hurt him. He knew he deserved it, but the pain of hearing how much you hated him, dashing the new, timid hope growing in his chest like grass in the spring… it devastated him.

“Y/n… I’m sorry,” he choked, his hands balling into fists. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for doing that, and for hurting you, and if there was one thing in my life I could take back, it would be that. I’ve apologized a million times over; I’ve offered to leave you alone tonight. You were the one who initiated that kiss. I just—I don’t know what you want from me.

“I can’t do this anymore. I love you so much, and even though you say you love me, you’ll never forgive me. It just… it hurts so much, knowing that nothing I say or do will ever be enough to make it better.”

His words tore through you, shredding your anger and resentment like tissue. Your hurt may be old, but his… it was fresh, and every time you rejected his company or made a snide remark, it was like rubbing salt in his wounds. You knew he was sorry, that he regretted it, and sometimes even you wondered why that wasn’t enough for you.

Darting forward, you grasped his large fist, cupping it between your hands. “Taehyung, I’m sorry.” Your words were sincere and heartfelt, and you gripped his hand tightly, like you were afraid he would leave – and why wouldn’t he? He’d made you feel like you weren’t enough once, and you’d walked away from him. Really, how could you blame him for doing the same thing?

“I know I wasn’t a perfect wife.” It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud. “It doesn’t excuse what you did, but learning that I couldn’t have more children was heartbreaking for me.”

Taehyung stopped short. You’d never acknowledged this before. Without thinking about it, he uncurled his fingers to hold your hand, giving you what support he could as the confession spilled from your lips.

“I know you wanted children, a big family. Finding out that I couldn’t give you that…” Your voice broke, and Taehyung reacted, turning to draw you into his arms. You nestled in his embrace like you’d never left, your body fitting perfectly against his.

“I felt like I wasn’t enough.” You’d been carrying this secret hurt inside you for so long, and to say it out loud gave you a sense of relief, as if a crushing weight had been lifted from your chest.

“Y/n…” Taehyung’s voice was thick with emotion. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that you’d always been enough for him, but he couldn’t find the words.

“And seeing you with her… it just made it so much worse.” You were sobbing now, your fists clenched as you cried into his shirtfront, reliving the anguish you’d felt at believing yourself inadequate, how much you’d hated him even as you loved him like you’d never loved anyone before or since. How could someone you’d let into the deepest recesses of your soul use that power to hurt you so badly, you’d wondered. That night had been a confirmation of every secret fear you’d let fester for a year, and you’d run from the hurt as fast and as far as you could.

As much as he wanted to sink to his knees, Taehyung forced himself to remain standing, so you could lean on him. It was the one thing he could offer you, and even though it was laughably insufficient to fend off the wave of guilt that crashed over him, he forced himself to, tucking your head under his chin and gathering you up like he could shield you from the pain.

“Y/n… you’ve always been enough for me. Only you could be enough for me. And I’m sorry.” His voice broke on the last word. For the first time, words couldn’t capture the depth of his remorse, how fucking bad he felt. He would gladly tear out his heart and present it to you if it made you feel just a tiny bit better. It had always been yours, anyway.

Even though Taehyung had apologized to you countless times before, this was the first time you truly believed it, and the sorrow and remorse in his voice filtered through the haze of hurt and anger that you’d been living under for decades. He held onto you like you’d evaporate if he let you step out of his arms, like he was going to hug you for the next twenty years, for all the time he had missed.

You stayed like that for five minutes, just soaking in each other’s presence and comfort, but eventually common sense began coming back to you. “Taehyung,” you sniffled, wriggling slightly in his grasp.

“Just a little longer, please,” he begged, the words whispered into your hair.

“Taehyung, we can’t stay out here.”

He whined, sounding incredibly childlike and not at all like the distinguished middle-aged man he was. “I don’t want this to end,” he pouted.

“Tae—”

He cut you off by squeezing you so tightly you squeaked as the air left your lungs. Rolling your eyes fondly – some things never changed, it seemed – you squirmed determinedly until he had no choice but to let you go, and he stared at you with a bereft gaze.

“Come on, you drama queen,” you said, holding your hand out to him. He perked up visibly and put his hand in yours, not even questioning where you were taking him.

Taking him to your hotel room felt familiar, but new and exciting at the same time. It brought to your mind memories of sneaking around back when you’d first started dating, when he would come over to your apartment in the middle of the night, and you’d smuggle him in, giggling the whole time.

It wasn’t like you were necessarily doing anything wrong – both of you were single, adults, and this time, there weren’t any pesky contractual obligations to keep all relationships out of the public eye. Catching the divorced parents of the bride sneaking off together might raise a couple of eyebrows, though.

Taehyung wound his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch as you fiddled with the key card. Now that you were back in his arms, he found himself basically unable to give it up, hungrily soaking in all the physical contact he’d dreamt of for so long. When you managed to get the door open and stepped through, he refused to let go, instead doing a strange crab-walk while still clinging to you.

“Tae,” you giggled, your hands resting on his arms. “You need to let go.”

“Never,” he insisted, burying his face in your neck. “Not letting you go again,” he said, his voice muffled.

“Tae…” your voice trailed off as you focused on taking off your shoes, which was made more difficult by the new limpet you’d acquired. Now a few inches shorter, you turned in his embrace and tilted your head up to brush your nose against his. The cute gesture was somewhat undermined by the way he immediately claimed your lips in a torrid kiss, his large hand splayed across the back of your head, and you knew that if not for the updo your hair was currently welded into, he would already be tugging on it.

“I missed you so much,” he groaned, his hand sliding from your head to the top of the zipper on the back of your dress. Instead of sliding it down, though, he paused, fiddling nervously with the tab.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, opening your eyes as you pulled back slightly.

“Are you sure you want this?”

You took a step back, out of his grasp, so you could get a better look at him. “Are you?”

Taehyung hesitated. He didn’t know why he felt so nervous about this. It was what he’d wanted for years, right?

“Tae…” As always, you could read him perfectly, and you held out your hand to him. “Come talk to me. What’s bothering you?” You led him to the couch, sitting down on the mattress facing him. He refused to let go of your hand, and you had to lean forward awkwardly.

“You won’t leave again, right?” he asked anxiously, and your brows shot up in surprise. His gaze continued darting around the room, refusing to settle on you, and you got up, closing the distance between you as you sat sideways on his lap.

“Tae, what are you talking about?” you asked, your fingers winding into the short hairs at the nape of his neck and stroking softly, the way you remembered he liked.

His lip wobbled, and you wanted to kiss it better. “I don’t want you to leave me again,” he confessed.

“Tae… this is my room. I’m not going anywhere,” you pointed out, and the slightly exasperated side-eye he gave you had you biting your lip to stifle a smirk. Becoming serious now, you added, “I promise I won’t disappear, okay? We can take things slow, and see where it goes,” before you pulled him close and gave him a sweet kiss on the cheek.

This wasn’t exactly what Taehyung wanted, but he supposed it was reasonable. Acquiescing, he turned to kiss you properly, allowing it to grow heated. You moved to straddle him, but the long dress made it difficult, and you hiked it up around your hips impatiently. Taehyung ran his tongue along your bottom lip and you moaned, heat pooling in your lower belly.

The sound spurred Taehyung to drag you closer to him, his hands kneading the flesh around your hips hungrily. You felt a flash of self-consciousness – the last time he’d seen you naked was decades ago, and your body had definitely changed since then, and not for the better. The greedy way he felt you up with the same hunger as he had back in your twenties when everything was new and exciting, though, banished the insecurities from your mind quickly.

Still kissing him, you ran your hands up his chest, delighting in how firm and solid he still was, before tugging his tie loose and dropping it carelessly somewhere. You attacked the buttons on his shirt impatiently, almost too excited to work them properly. Taehyung wasn’t faring any better, having roughly pulled your zipper all the way down – you gave a silent prayer for the nice zipper on the expensive dress, because if it had gotten caught, he would probably have ripped the whole thing.

You let go of him just long enough to allow him to push the dress off your shoulders so it pooled around your waist, and shivered as he put his hands on your bare skin, running them up your back to pop open the clasp of your bra.

“Tae,” you whined, tugging on his shirt, and he chuckled as he moved to help you with the rest of the buttons while you shrugged the straps of your bra off, tossing it behind you somewhere. His undershirt went the same way, and you moaned when his bare chest made contact with yours, kissing him frantically as you squirmed on top of him.

Taehyung wasn’t unaffected – you could feel his hard-on pressing against your thigh as he fondled your breast, rubbing his thumb against your pebbled nipple. “Fuck, Y/n,” he groaned in that deep, raspy baritone that you’d missed so much, his hands dropping to your thighs as he held you against him, standing up and depositing you on the bed. You gasped in surprise – you’d always enjoyed being manhandled by him, and were impressed that he was still able to lift you up so easily.

Instead of joining you immediately, he yanked your dress all the way off, letting it pool on the floor, before reaching for his belt. He wasn’t able to get it off before you hooked your fingers in his belt loops and yanked him towards you impatiently, causing him to lose his balance and fall on you. “Y/n,” he grumbled, though there was laughter in his voice. He pushed himself up on his hands, looking down at you, and you undid his belt with far greater dexterity than you’d handled his shirt buttons.

Pulling the leather through the loops – and shivering at the whistling sound the belt made, a familiar one from your more adventurous romps from days past – you dropped it beside you before working on his trousers.

“Someone’s impatient,” Taehyung teased, and you scoffed at him.

“You’re one to talk,” you retorted, and he didn’t respond immediately, but that might have been because you plunged your hand into his underwear to grasp his hard cock. Taehyung had always been big, and you clenched on yourself as you remembered what it had felt like to have him stretching you open. God, how you’d missed him, pined for him on those long, lonely nights.

You pumped his cock slowly, running your thumb across the head to collect the pre-cum already beading there and listening to him growl and pant above you, long fingers diving into your panties to stroke you eagerly as his lips returned to yours. He found you wet and sticky already, dipping his fingers in the orifice before returning to circle your clit with all the expertise you’d come to expect after almost a decade of marriage. Some things were embedded in your muscle memory and being with each other felt like that.

Because you knew it would drive him wild, you released his erection, causing him to pull away to look down at you questioningly. With a smirk, you raised your hand to your mouth, dragging the pad of your thumb across your tongue. “Hmm,” you cooed, your eyes fluttering shut. “You taste just as good as I remember.”

“Fuck.” The expletive punched out of Taehyung with the last of the oxygen in his lungs, leaving him breathless. You were so flawless, perfect for him in every way, and he couldn’t wait anymore. He pulled your panties off so hard that they ripped before pushing his own boxers down just far enough to release his painful erection. The head was flushed bright red, the veins standing out along the length, and your mouth watered, but that wasn’t what he was going for right now.

As he pushed your thighs apart with his own, one hand snaked around his cock, stroking it a few times to take the edge off. You both watched, enthralled, as he slid the head of his erection along your slit, gathering up the wetness, before pressing into you. The stretch was immediate, tears springing to your eyes as you tensed up in response.

“Fuck, Y/n, you’re so tight,” Taehyung gritted, leaning down to kiss you. His tongue slid against yours filthily, making you moan, as his fingers reached between you to rub your clit. “I missed you, I love you, I love you,” he groaned as he sank into you, your heels pressing against the small of his back and egging him on. You’d half expected him to pound you into tomorrow after the urgency of the foreplay, but he seemed content to take it slow, kissing you and caressing your side as he thrust almost lazily. He buried his face in your neck and you stroked his hair as your breath caught on the pleasure.

“Taehyung,” you breathed, your voice hitching as he brushed against your g-spot. Of course he remembered exactly where it was, you thought fondly. “I love you so much,” you confessed, the words hanging in the air. He didn’t respond to you, continuing the smooth motions of his hips, and you wondered if he was even listening to you, but then you heard it.

A sob, muffled against your neck. The sound made you panic, and you pushed at his shoulders so that you could look at him. He resisted a little, but you kept stroking your hands down his sides to reassure him. “Tae, are you okay? Is this okay?”

Finally, he lifted himself off you, but immediately went in for another kiss, this time tender and sweet, his lips moving gently against yours. “Say that again?” he requested, and you could see the tears shining in his eyes.

“Tae, I love you,” you moaned as he drove into you harder, gripping your thigh as he angled himself to hit your g-spot again. He was rushing for the finishing line now, you could tell, as he reached back down to thumb at your clit with unerring precision. Your confession had done it for him, but he would not cum before you. It had to be perfect, the best beginning to your future together.

“Again,” he breathed, needing to hear the words from you once more, and you acquiesced, repeating it with each thrust, until the pleasure grew too great and you just gasped and moaned instead, spelling your love for him out in the scratches on his back and the way your heels drummed against him, begging him to get closer, deeper inside of you, to never leave.

“Tae—fuck,” you cried out as you crested, clenching hard on his cock in you as your arms and legs tightened around him. In that instant, as close as he was to you, you needed more, tears springing to your eyes at the feeling of his hands and mouth on you after so long, gentle but sure, reverent yet debased.

Feeling you orgasm around him was too much for his already faltering restraint, and with a final thrust, he came, shuddering in your arms as he shot ropes of cum deep inside you.

In the aftermath, Taehyung sank down on you, and though you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay like this forever, you welcomed his weight pressing you into the bed. He almost surrounded you, his warmth comforting, and you stroked his back as he caught his breath.

A moment later, he lifted himself off you, seeking another kiss which you happily gave him. He tucked an errant strand of hair that had stuck itself to your sweaty cheek behind your ear, and you smiled up at him, eyes shining. As amazing as the sex was, Taehyung had always shown the extent of his love for you through those tender, soft touches that came like second nature to him.

“I love you,” he told you again, emotion shimmering in his eyes. You were tempted to be cheeky and say I know, because he’d told you so many times tonight, but you could sense the vulnerability radiating off him and knew this wasn’t the right moment for your sass.

“I love you too,” you told him instead, reaching up to cup his face and brushing your thumb against his cheekbone to wipe the tear that escaped. There was so much more you had to talk about – establishing boundaries and rules for this new old relationship, clearing the air between you. Hell, after twenty years apart, who knew if you were still compatible with each other?

However, you pushed all those thoughts away as you hugged Taehyung’s sweaty, exhausted body closer to you. Just for tonight, you promised yourself, you would let love be enough.

[sociallyawkward--fics]

Dirty Little Secret

Hello I just finished this and I have not edited it and I am never going to reread it lol. It is probably disjointed, OOC, and incomprehensible. Welcome to my super sick and drug-induced It oneshot. Also for the title I was torn between this and ‘truth or dare’

My friends also told me I had to put this joke in the author’s notes: “I’m paying homage to the original It. King was on coke when he wrote it, and I’m on a wild amount of cold medicine and illness”

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Summary: Miraculously, they all lived. They killed that damn clown and they lived. Now, Richie just had one last thing to say.

Word Count: 1877 words

[ao3 link]

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The sounds of his old friends splashing around in the quarry faded around him. Distantly, as though he wasn’t in his own body, Richie could hear them cracking jokes and laughing at each other, as if the seven of them hadn’t almost just lost their lives.

As if Eddie hadn’t almost--

Richie focused on cleaning his glasses. Without them on, it was blurry and hard to tell, but he thought there was still blood embedded into the new spiderwebbing of cracks left on one of the lenses. It wouldn’t come out. Really, it could be anyone’s blood, he’d lost track of their injuries by this point. 

But Richie knew who’s it could have been. 

Bev had said the Deadlights gave her visions of their deaths, but he hadn’t known just how vivid they could be until he dropped out of them himself. He’d opened his eyes to Eddie being skewered above him, helpless to do anything but scream his name, the Loser’s a chorus of the same. Then, he blinked, and Eddie was above him laughing and cheering his “victory.”

Richie had barely rolled them out of the way in time for one of It’s massive claws to dig deep into the stone where they had been laying. Pennywise made a noise of rage, but Richie hadn’t allowed himself even a moment to think. He’d grabbed Eddie and ran.

And now here they were. They’d killed It, crushed Its heart in their hands, and Derry was safe. They were safe. Eddie was safe. Richie sat on a rock in the dirty quarry water, distantly aware of the splash wars going on while Eddie chopped his hands and told them how unsanitary it was, cleaning themselves in dirty water. Richie knew he was being unusually quiet, and someone was bound to notice soon, but he felt like if he didn’t laugh, he was going to cry.

And for once, Richie was all out of jokes.

Then, the absolute worst thing happened: Richie was dragged into the spotlight.

Apparently, the other six Losers had been recounting the “best moments” of their battle. Richie didn’t remember much, truthfully, aside from running for his life and sniveling like a little kid.

“Hey, Rich,” Beverly called. “What was that whole ‘Truth or Dare’ thing about anyway?”

Richie let out an awkward laugh, plastering a smile onto his face. He’d gotten good at it, over the years, with how much he hated his own act, but now it just felt stiff and misshapen. He waved his hands in the air as he spoke, his glasses flopping around precariously in his grip.

“Oh, you know, just something that damn clown had brought up.”

Bill laughed. “Why would he b-b-bring up Truth or D-Dare?”

Bev swam over and started poking at his sides as she laughed. They were all laughing so much. They were clearly handling the trauma far differently than him.

“Why would It use that?” She teased. “Got something you’re afraid to confess, Trashmouth?”

Richie forced out another laugh, sounding weak to his own ears. More than you know.

Instead, Richie reached for a distraction. “Yeah, how fast it took me to finish with Eddie’s mom--”

“Beep beep, asshole!” Eddie shouted, and Richie’s next laugh felt a little less desperate. Teasing Eddie was familiar and comfortable, and Richie was almost tempted to put his glasses back on to see the adorable way his jaw clenched with annoyance.

“Remember that one time Bill dared Mike to smuggle one of the sheep into his grandfather’s house?” Ben asked, and if Richie wasn’t so gone on Eddie, he could’ve kissed him. Intentionally or not, he’d just saved Richie a whole lot of floundering to keep the attention off where he wanted it least.

The group laughed and Mike shook his head with a grin. “He was so mad,” Mike said. “I thought for sure he’d make me sleep in the barn for that.”

“Or what about the t-t-time Eddie dared Richie to eat that year-old twinkie we f-found in R-R-Richie’s room,” Bill said.

Even Richie had to laugh at that one. “Yeah, where was the concern for my health there, Eddie Spaghetti?”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie snapped, though there was no heat behind it. “Plus, those things never fucking expire. They’re garbage, but that wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Oh yeah? It tasted as bad as your mom’s--”

Eddie splashed Richie, sending a wave of nasty quarry water into his mouth and preventing him from finishing his sentence. He sputtered and coughed, laughing as he spit it out, and the weight of everything felt a little less oppressive now that he was laughing with them all.

“Oh!” Bev said, “What about the time Stan dared Bill--”

Richie grinned as he went back to trying to dig the blood out of the cracks in his glasses with his nails. They were short and stubby, so it wasn’t exactly easy, but he managed to make some progress. This time, though, he made sure not to tune his friends out. He listened to each of their stories, letting their laughter wrap around him like a warm, worn, familiar blanket, just like he had always been searching for when they were kids, and slowly felt his shoulders relax. And as they were laughing, the thought occurred to Richie.

What was he so afraid of?

This was Richie’s family. After everything they’d been through, killer alien clowns and all, would his sexuality really be the thing to break them? It’d be a little silly at that point, Richie thought. 

A little silly, and a lot unfair. And who knew how they’d react? He’d seen them all in their underwear, shared blankets and chairs and beds with them, held them close (he wished he could do that now, but he wasn’t brave enough to be so touchy as an adult). What if they accused him of taking advantage of them when they hadn’t known? What if they were disgusted by him? What if they forgot him again, but this time by choice?

Richie was forced out of his thoughts when someone shrieked, and he promptly realized he’d allowed himself to tune everyone out again as he catastrophized. His head shot up at the shriek, his heart pounding in panic. Instead of a psychotic clown or a gruesome murder, Richie caught sight of Ben, who had seemingly heaved Beverly out of the water, tossing Bev as far as he could back into the murky water. She came up sputtering and laughing, arguing that whatever she’d said had definitely happened, no matter what he said.

Bill and Mike were leaning on each other from the force of their laughter. Ben had a sly grin on his face, though the corner of his lip was twisted a little in embarrassment as Bev kept hounding at him. Stan wasn’t outright laughing so much as he was grinning, but that was pretty much the same thing when it came to him. Eddie was laughing so hard that his cheeks had gone pink.

Richie promptly realized that if he didn’t do it now, he was never going to get up the courage to do it again.

“I’m gay,” Richie said loudly, the words echoing uncomfortably across the quarry.

The sounds of splashing and play fighting stopped and Richie heard more than saw everyone turn toward him. He kept his glasses off, eyes focused on his hands. If he had to look at them, see them clearly, he wouldn’t get through this. Every cell in his being was telling him to bury this with a joke, to move on and make a funny and forget the whole thing, but he couldn’t. Not this time. He needed to stop hiding.

“I’m gay,” he said again, quieter this time. “That’s why It brought up ‘Truth or Dare.’ Because I wouldn’t want anyone to pick truth.”

Richie kept his head down, but he heard the others moving through the water. He startled when he felt Bev’s arms wrap around one of his own. Richie looked up and saw his friends (or, really, saw blobs shaped vaguely like his friends) all coming toward him, wrapping themselves around him where he sat.

Ben curled himself around Richie’s knee, right below Bev. On Richie’s other side, Mike, Bill, and Stan all crushed in trying to wrap around him in some way. Mike ended up wrapped around Richie’s leg, which probably looked ridiculous, if only Richie could see, while Bill and Stan curled up around his arm and side. Then, Eddie came up behind Richie, wrapping his arms carefully around Richie’s shoulders and resting his head on Richie’s own (probably taking advantage of being taller than Richie, for the moment).

“We’re proud of you, Rich,” Stan said quietly.

Tears stung at Richie’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He sat there for a few minutes, soaking in their warmth and care, closing his eyes and letting peace finally overcome him. The secret, his dirty little secret, had finally been aired. He didn’t need to be scared of it anymore, at least not in this small circle (coming out as a public figure was an entirely different story, and Richie sure as fuck wasn’t ready for that yet). Pennywise’s words, echoing in his head since they were said, finally began to quiet.

“Thank you,” Rich said eventually, his shields formed from humor finally coming back up. He could only handle so much emotional vulnerability without making a joke. “I don’t have my glasses on so I don’t know who you people are, but thank you.”

Richie’s friends laughed, and he could feel Eddie’s chin brushing against his head with the force of Eddie’s eyeroll. Richie himself chuckled a little, blinking to clear the lingering tears from his eyes before they could fall. It was then that he noticed his hands: one clasped tightly between Ben and Beverly’s fingers, and the other resting on one of Eddie’s arms, Stan’s hand resting atop his.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled.

He felt more than saw (seeing as he couldn’t see) Beverly and Mike look up at him.

“I legit can’t find my glasses.”

A chorus of “Are you serious?” met Richie’s ears and he almost laughed again, but it was true. Sometime between the six of them latching onto him, Richie’s glasses had completely vanished.

Richie settled in where he sat as the others went off to find his glasses, diving beneath the water and arguing between themselves. The only person who didn’t move away was Eddie, who shifted from standing behind him to sitting next to him. As he heard Bev laugh, followed by a splash (Richie would bet money she just dunked Ben, the two had been attached at the hip and making heart eyes at each other since they escaped Neibolt), he felt Eddie grab his right hand and interlock their fingers.

There was a distinct lack of cold, wet metal as Eddie squeezed his hand, and Richie swore his heart skipped more than a few beats.

Maybe he wasn’t the only one with a secret, Richie thought as Eddie’s head leaned against his shoulder for a few seconds. And maybe, just maybe, Richie wouldn’t have to go home and face his nightmares alone after this.

[thebigqueer]

"Pick Your Fighter: Tater Trot or Will Solace?" - Solangelo - One-Shot

Summary: Nico tries to befriend a pegasus. This one is for the mythological creatures prompt for @solangeloweek !!

Word Count: 1745

Read on AO3

“Will, I don’t think this is a good idea.” Nico edges away from the pegasus, a nervous look flitting across his face as he does so. “Pegasi don’t usually like me.”

Will looks up at Nico, his hand momentarily freezing as he strokes the creature’s mane. A kind look overcomes his features when he notices his boyfriend’s reluctance. “I think it’s worth a try,” he says softly. “I know they don’t like you, but I don’t particularly like the idea of going on a chariot through the sky for a date, either. I don’t like how bumpy it gets.”

Nico huffs and crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, I don’t like feeling a horse’s hooves crashing against my chest when it’s kicking me away.”

Will chuckles and turns back to brushing the pegasus’ mane. “Has one actually done that to you?” he asks curiously.

“No, but I just know that if someone wasn’t around they’d probably try to throw me to the ground. They’re only nice to me when someone else is present.”

Will smiles and drops the brush to the ground, which thuds softly against the fiery green grass. Then he steps closer to Nico and takes one of his hands; as their fingertips touch, a spark of electricity races up both of their spines. Nico has to physically restrain himself from blushing, but Will lets the pink spill across his cheeks without regret.

“In that case,” murmurs Will, “you have me around. And I really want to take you up to the sky. New York City looks so pretty in the evening.” He leans in and pouts, and Nico can’t help the swelling of his heart at the sight of the blond’s expression. “Besides,” Will adds, “I think we deserve it after such a hectic week.”

Nico doesn’t argue with him. It’s only been one crazy thing after another, what with Nico’s mini quest to retrieve an item of Hermes’ and Will being stuck in the infirmary after a particularly eventful Capture the Flag game.

But Nico also isn’t excited to ride a pegasus. Heights make him nervous - what if Zeus immediately blasts him out of the sky? What if he falls and crashes to his death? He doesn’t exactly want his cause of death to be “ejection from a pegasus.”

Almost as if Will can sense his absurd thoughts, he smiles in amusement. “Nothing’s going to happen to you, Nico. I promise.” He turns his head to the creature, who is already glaring at Nico. A frown tugs at Will’s features when he notices the wariness that strangles the pegasus.

He faces Nico again and slips his hand into his boyfriend’s, using it to lead the two of them closer to the winged animal. Nico tries to drive his heels into the ground in an attempt to protest, but a wave of curiosity splashes over him. What if he really can get this pegasus to accept him? What if he really can gain another friend?

So he lets Will take him. The pegasus stares at Nico, its gaze turning fiery with anxiety, but it doesn’t move. Perhaps it’s just as interested in Nico as he is of it.

Will pauses in front of the pegasus’ line of sight, staring it down with a calm, relaxing gaze. He strokes his hand over its muzzle and smiles. Almost immediately, the creature melts under his warmth and turns its focus away from Nico.

But something releases in Will, too. His body curves into the pegasus, fitting in perfectly with the warmth of the creature’s body, and a dazed, faraway look overwhelms his eyes.

“You know,” Will whispers, talking almost as if to himself, “Silena used to be really good with pegasi. They used to love her. Any time she stepped into the stables horses would just turn her way and their wings would flap in excitement.”

Nico’s heart turns to lead at Will’s words. Despite the fact that her death had been so many years ago, just the mention of Silena’s name sends a crash of grief over him. He waits a moment to let the power of her very concept bloom and disintegrate in the air. Then, quietly, he says, “Yeah?”

Will nods, though a cloud of sadness arcs over his head. “She used to let me come with her to the stables. That’s where I learned to take good care of them.” A small sigh billows through his lips. His hand freezes its movement, and his gaze stretches into the forest, searching for something lost, trying to catch a hold of something he can’t reach anymore. “She saw beauty in a lot of creatures.”

A blanket of silence falls over the boys. Nico shifts hesitantly on his feet, and he considers holding his hand out to Will, just to tug him out of whatever spiral of emotions he’s found himself in.

But before Nico makes a move, Will turns his gaze back to him. His blue eyes glimmer dazedly, but nevertheless, he forces a wavering smile over his mouth. He’s awfully good at that. “I was scared, too, you know. When I first started hanging out with them.” Will chews his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I know you and I have different experiences, and I know pegasi don’t like you because of your whole death thing, but… I don’t know. Maybe I can help you a little. I’ll use things Silena taught me.”

Nico winces with uncertainty. “I don’t know, Will. I just don’t want to feel bad.”

Will holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, it’s up to you. But who knows. Maybe you can convince this one that you’re harmless.”

Nico considers Will’s words. He looks at the pegasus nervously, who stares right back at him as if wondering the same thing: Can we really learn to trust each other?

Something in Nico’s heart urges him to push forward, to make a move. He locks eyes with Will again, and in a moment of understanding, the blond smiles triumphantly.

“Here.” Will pulls Nico closer, and despite his nervousness, Nico allows him to be urged forward. Will takes Nico’s hand and raises it up to the pegasus’ muzzle - not quite touching, but close enough so that Nico’s fingers simmer with the heat of the creature. Will bows his head closer to his boyfriend’s ear and whispers, “Just try to touch it gently.”

A wild look of anxiety sparks in the pegasus’ dark eyes, but there’s something determined there, too. It’s just as curious as Nico is to see if they can be friends.

Hesitance seethes in the air between Nico’s fingers and the fur of the creature. Time stills as the human and the pegasus watch each other in anticipation.

Then Nico touches the muzzle. The winged animal’s eyes flash with surprise, then melt into a puddle of obsidian softness. After a beat of reluctance, Nico finds himself drowning under the softness of the pegasus’ body. All the tension, all the anxiety that writhed within him just seconds before completely evaporates, and he’s left with only a sense of ease. Warmth encompasses his chest as he explores this new friend before him.

He runs his fingers up and down over the pegasus’ forehead, and Will lets go of his hand. Nico overflows with a certain giddiness at the realization that this majestic creature is admitting its trust to him.

Maybe he can trust it, too.

Behind him, a low laugh tumbles into his ears. Nico nearly jumps; he was almost convinced he and the winged creature were alone in the wild, but apparently they had company.

Nico turns his gaze momentarily to Will’s blue eyes. A smile flickers on the blond’s face, and a confused expression reflects across Nico’s own features. “What?” he asks, puzzled. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” whispers Will, though the sparkle in his eyes says otherwise. “It’s just that… I told you so. You’ve made a friend!”

Nico scoffs and rolls his eyes, though a small smile still cracks against his lips. “Whatever, nerd.”

Will shifts behind him, but Nico doesn’t care to turn and find out what he’s doing. He’s too busy brushing his fingers over the face of his new acquaintance, curious as to the creature’s history. It’s another few moments until Nico feels Will’s presence behind him, and he turns his eyes back to his boyfriend.

Will offers a soft smile when Nico looks at him. A golden eyebrow arches gracefully against his forehead. “Are you ready to go? I think you’ve proved your trustworthiness to this pegasus.”

Nico considers Will’s question. His body hums with a warm excitement, and a cool, comforting breeze brushes against the back of his neck.

He feels good right now. He feels at home.

When Nico turns his gaze up, he finds a golden hue threatening the blue sky; the sun begins to drown under the weight of the incoming night. If they want to leave, they’d better do it now.

Nico sighs. A comforting quiet surrounds them, filled only with the new chirping of crickets and the sound of Nico’s breathing.

After a beat of silence, the son of Hades whispers, “What’s its name?”

Will frowns. “I’m not sure if we have a name yet. I think she’s a new one.”

A new excitement overwhelms Nico’s heart, and he looks at Will elatedly. “Can I call her something, then?”

Will shrugs and laughs. “Sure, I guess.”

Nico frowns in concentration as a cacophony of names ring in his head. Various Italian names, Greek names, even names of simple objects flit across his mind, but nothing feels quite right yet.

It isn’t until after a few moments that something finally clicks. A smile slips over Nico’s mouth. “How about Tater Trot?” he suggests to Will.

The blond snorts. “That sounds kinda stupid.”

“I don’t know,” Nico murmurs in dissent. “Let’s see how she likes it.”

In response, the pegasus huffs in agreement, and Nico turns to offer a grin to his boyfriend. “Looks like she’s into it. Tater Trot it is.”

Will rolls his eyes. “All right, whatever. Are you ready to go?”

Nico strokes his hand once more down his new friend’s muzzle, then nods his head at Will. “Let’s go, then. This view better be as pretty as you tell me it is, or else I’m going to leave you for the horse.”

Will laughs and throws an arm around Nico. “Guess things just got serious between you two.”

[unmaskedagain]

Happy Birthday, Miss Bustier

Every year, Bustier looked forward to her birthday. All the teachers got together for drinks after school, and Bustier go show off all the wonderful presents her students got her. One gift in particular always was sure to wow.

However, the school year had been different than the previous ones. It had been a difficult year. The class seemed to be in a civil war. Marinette’s side versus everyone else. Caline was forced to expel Marinette after she was caught cheating. Only for it be revealed that she never cheated and Lila had a terrible disease that caused her to lie. The explosion was reversed and Bustier chalked it up to the students as terrible mistake.

Though the look Marinette had given her when she returned to class sent shivers up her spine.

Marinette resign as class president not long after. Lila took over but the sweet girl was so busy that the Alya and a few others were volunteered to step up and help out. Everything the class seemed to do or planned turn into a catastrophe.

An embarrassing one.

Caline started to avoid the teacher’s lounge after a bake sale ended up poisoning several of the students. Two of her students accidently started fires at another fundraiser. And the dance the class planned ended up with several students and two chaperones in the hospital because Lila ordered the gym floor to be waxed just before the dance.

She couldn’t take the snickering.

Plus, the other teachers had frequently needed to step in to sort out some of her students’ behavioral problems. Alya erupt in anger whenever she thought anyone had done anything wrong to her or her friends, got told off and given detentions many times before she finally learned her lesson. Alix had been caught tripping Marinette multiple times and had got suspended after the third incident. Lila had be verbally ordered by Mendeleiev to stop touching a clearly uncomfortable Adrien without his consent several times before she finally got the message. Mostly because Mendeleiev contact Adrien’s father and got a restraining order officially issued. Lila had to stay at least ten feet away from Adrien at all time when in class; fifty feet outside of it.

Which Caline thought was a bit harsh. She remembered what it was like to be a young girl in love. Emotions just overcome you at that age.

Normally, she would count on Marinette to rein the rest of the students in but girl had taken a step back from the other students. Or maybe they had taken a step back from her.

Marinette, Chloe, Adrien, Nathaniel, Juleka and Rose seemed at odds with the rest of the students in class. And for the life of Caline’s she couldn’t figure out why. The small group never went to any fundraiser, vocally letting the class know they would not being going on any trips with them. They didn’t go to the dance, and Marinette made it clear she wouldn’t be helping decorate it. The costumes for the school play had been abysmal and not the usually quality they were; then Mylene informed Bustier that they couldn’t get their last costume designer to help out. Their last costume designer was Marinette.

The year had been rough but Bustier still looked forward to her birthday. Last year, she got a gorgeous cashmere scarf, the year before that an entire assortment of different chocolate pastries; every year, every all the gifts were amazing. She come on the morning of her birthday and find her entire classroom amazingly decorated, her students’ adoring faces looking at her, and a pile of presents on her desk.

This year was no different… technically.

The classroom was decorated but not nearly as well as it had been the previous years. It looked like the cheap decorations the other teachers were used to; not her. A majority of the students were smiling at her; but a few, Marinette and her team, just looked bored. There were presents on her desk but they all looked… basic.

Still Caline smiled happily and thanked her wonderful students for their thoughtful surprise and gifts. Only when they left for lunch, did she finally take time to examine them.

There were the usually gift cards, a box or two of cheap chocolates, some flowers, lovely handmade cards, some perfumes, and a gift basket full of amazing smelling various bath products, which was by far the best gift by far. But nothing outstanding like she usually got. Nothing she could show off to the other teachers as proof that her student adored her. It was the same type of gifts all the teachers got. Nothing extraordinary.

And it soured Caline’s cheerful mood a bit. She couldn’t understand it.

She still went out for drinks that night with the other teachers, still showed off her gift basket but saw none of the envious looks she was used to. When she got home, she looked over the presents again.

Bustier saw that each gift had was from a different student. Chloe and Adrien got her perfume. Rose got her gift card for a mani-pedi. Alya got her chocolates. She saw Marinette got her the gift basket and nodded, unsurprised; the girl always got her the best presents…

Caline paused. Marinette? Marinette got her the scarf from the year before; she made it. She also remember that Marinette was the one who gave her the delicious assortment of chocolate pastries from her parents’ bakery, the teacher supposed. In fact, as Caline thought back, Marinette always was one to get her the best gifts; whether it was for her birthday, Christmas, or teacher’s appreciation day.

Marinette was also one who always decorated the classroom, she recalled.

Marinette who had claimed to be too busy to be class president, to be on the decorating committee, to help fund raise, to make costumes for the school play, to be the good example for the class Caline needed her to be, and apparently too busy to get the fabulous gifts for her teacher like she used to.

Clearly, her student needed to be talked to. Caline would have to stress the importance of being an active presence in the class. Marinette needed to be a good leader so the other students could model after her. Her friends counted on her for help, no one should be too busy for that.

The following Monday, Caline Bustier finally got around to asking Marinette to stay after class.

“Marinette,” Caline started. “I’ve noticed you’ve become rather… distant lately with the other students in class.”

           Marinette fought the urge not to roll her eyes, “We’ve had a falling out,” she said innocently. Not bothering to mention that it was Lila’s doing. “It’s fine. Things change. Friends go apart.”

“They don’t have to,” Bustier smiled. “You were such a wonderful class president; the entire class counted on you. Don’t you think you were a bit hasty in resigning… in that regard.”

“There was no avoiding it,” Marinette stated. Most of the class at that point at turned against her. And every time she tried to make plans or come up with ideas to fund raise she was shut down. “I’m interning with Wilhelmina Slater. She’s currently editor and chief for Mode Paris. I couldn’t turn that down. On top of that I’m overflowing with commission request; some come in by the website I launched, others from recommendations from my other clients. Also Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale, if you remember, both announced three months ago that I was their personal stylist. I’ve been getting swamped with work ever since.”

Caline did remember. She had been shocked when she saw her student’s face on the news announcing her as up-and-coming Fashion design MDC. A number of celebrities tweeted that they had commissioned work from the teen; a dress here, a suit there, costumes. The announcement had only caused more derision in class towards Marinette, “But don’t you think helping your friends is more important than making money?”

Marinette blinked. “I am helping my friends.”

“Alya needed your help with the fundraising,” Bustier said. “Lila needed help with the dance. Mylene needed costumes for the play. Nino needed someone to design his set for a gig of his. You were too busy. How do you think that made them feel?”

“First of all, they never asked me for help,” Marinette quickly said. “Second-”

           Caline cut her off, “Maybe they didn’t ask because they knew you’d be too busy.”

           Marinette looked the teacher up and down and continued what she was saying, “Secondly, I have very few friends in class; and you didn’t name any of them. Lila is not my friend. Alya is not my friend. Neither is Nino, Mylene, Ivan, Max, Kim, or Alix for the record.”

           Bustier reared back; shocked at the unexpected tone from Marinette.

           Marinette crossed her arms. “I am helping my friends. Chloe is my PR manager, which is giving her amazing experience. Juleka and Rose model for me, and frequently get poached to model for other designers. Adrien gets to sit back and relax for once. Claude meets all the directors and actors I work with. He ended up getting an internship at WB. Nathaniel and Marc’s Ladybug comic got exposer after I used some of his designs of her on my clothing line. Images comics is picking up their comic to turn it into an entire series. Aurore is my personal assistant but that’s only to give her a clear reason to be there so she can interview any celebrities, I’m working with, that are willing to talk with her. She posted an interview with David Tennant about a cameo in Doctor; with him, Rose, and their kid. An hour later the website: Tumblr crashed. I do help my friends.”

Bustier sighed, “You’re having an argument. You didn’t stop being friends.” Honestly kids could be so dramatic sometimes. “Once you apologize everything will go back to normal.”

“And why should I apologize,” Marinette asked. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We talked about the Marinettes of the world, remember?” Caline smiled. “You have to be the bigger person; be an example for the other students. Show them the right way to act.”

“No.”

           It was said so firmly but so quickly that the teacher nearly missed it as she opened her mouth to continue her speech but closed it as she processed what Marinette said, “No? What do you mean no.”

           Marinette picked up her school bag and walked to the classroom door, “I mean, I won’t do it. I’m no one’s shining example. And in this situation, I refuse to be the bigger person. I have no intention of apologizing whatsoever.” She opened the door about to walk out. “Especially to people who you allowed to verbally harass me in class, trip me right in front of you, and disinvite me and my friends on class trips. I don’t care how it made them feel. I don’t care about them at all.” “Marinette,” Bustier started.

           Marinette cut her off, “It is not responsibility to teach my classmates the right way to behave; it’s their parents’, it’s yours.” She said fiercely.

           Bustier straighten herself up to her full height. She refused to allow any student of hers to speak to her like that. “I see. I will have to contact your parents to discuss your lack of participation in class.”

           Marinette snorted, “Okay. You should do it soon, though. I and a number of other students sent in complaints to the school board about my wrongful expulsion, this class, the way you run it, and Damocles; with video evidence. Bourgeois and Agreste lawyers are leading the charge. Chloe out of sheer spite. Gabriel because of the clear case of sexual harassment you allowed Adrien to deal with from Lila. He’s out for blood.”

           Caline Bustier paled. She couldn’t feel her legs. The school board? “Nothing is as bad as you say. You are overdramatizing everything.”

“My lawyer say different,” The bluenette shrugged. “If anything, they think I’m not understating things. Much like when I tell them, you’re a bad teacher.”

“I will not be spoke to like that!”

“What are you going to do?” Marinette asked with a single eyebrow raised, “Expel me?”

           There was only silence to answer her question. Marinette just shook her head and left.

           Leaving Caline Bustier wondering just how she let things get so out of hand. And more importantly, if she would even have a job come the new school year.

[sooibian]

Twist of Fate

image credits: @/exoxoxoid (twitter)

Pairing: Criminal Psychologist Kyungsoo x Crime Reporter OC (Miss Jung) ft. Minseok, Jongin

Description: Much against your wishes, you are back in your hometown to write about the murders of two young women - your only ticket out is the criminal psychologist who has been assisting Superintendent Kim Minseok with offender profiling.

Inspired by: Sharp Objects, The Fall and this moodboard by @is-that-baekhyuns-shirt​ 

Tags/Warnings: Serial killer AU - angst, grief, loss, murders, descriptions of anxiety, reactive and attentive immobility, asphyxiation, indicative of humiliation, explicit and graphic situations. Please do not read onward if any of this triggers or upsets you!!!!

Word count: +3.7k

A/N: ...i need to stop watching crime dramas. 

@leewalberg​ @his-mochi-cheeks​ @changshapatrol​ 

----------------------------------------------------------------------

When you left Cheongsong, you’d left for good. Or so you’d thought.

Ten years later what brought you back was not your family, for you had none left, but the murders of two young women that had left the quaint little town, surrounded by hills artistically contoured by apple orchards, shaken and distraught.

Everyone knew each other in Cheongsong which should have made Superintendent Kim Minseok’s job easier, but he was caught in an ugly snare of emotions which seemed to have clouded his critical thinking faculties. These were people he knew closely, people he’d grown up with. For him, pointing fingers at any of them meant carving permanent cracks in relationships that were stronger than most familial ties.

“Off the record, then”, you shoved your scratchpad back into your purse, turned off the recorder with a click and looked at Minseok square in the eyes, only to find the amiable, portly, catlike footballer you went to school with hidden in their farthest, darkest depths - reduced to a mere whimsy. The memories of the man who sat before you, now seemed abysmally distorted by the colossal burden of the unknown.

“It never is.” He chuckled darkly, took a measured sip of his bourbon and rolled it around his tongue before swallowing. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”

“That makes two of us. Write about killings in your hometown...it makes an impact because it’s personal, my boss says. We’re to...exploit the fact that nobody substantial is covering this.” You recited, eyes trained on the sliver of grime on the coaster.

Minseok clicked his tongue in disapproval and enquired, “Where have you been staying?” 

“A guest house by the Country Club.”

“So, not the Mansion”, he remarked callously.

Wounds that had barely healed came undone at the mention of your family home. Your throat tightened and you felt as if you had been shanked with a broken bottle in the stomach. The ill fated house reeked of misfortune, grief and loss. Its inhabitants had fallen one by one like lined up dominoes. This curse had forced you out to start a new life in Seoul.

“It’s still quite well kept, you know.” Minseok stated matter-of-factly.

Taking a deep swig of your bourbon, you explained earnestly as the burn of the liquid blazed down your throat, “Minseok, I want nothing more than to get out of here. So, please, give me something. A nugget.” 

“I don’t want to be quoted on this. Or misquoted. This is all new to me as well. Two bodies in three months? Can you imagine?” Overcome with emotion, he ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut.

You put a comforting hand on his and offered in a voice laced with empathy, “Listen, from where I stand, all you need is a new line of inquiry and linking these two murders would give you one. I’ve seen the pictures.” 

You swiped through images of two dark haired women on your phone - Park Soojin and Seo Jinri. Both of them were in their late twenties. They lay in their own beds as if soundly asleep, modesty protected only by sheer white blankets, crimson tinted lips parted ever so slightly, freshly painted nails shining in dim lighting. And roses. There were a couple of red roses placed by their side as if in condolence. The blood curdling strangulation marks around their necks made them look like dreadfully divine paintings. 

“They could be sisters”, you observed with moist eyes, voice hushed to a whisper.

Contemplating on the images with pursed lips, Minseok responded with a tight nod and waved a 50,000 bill in the waitress’ general direction.

“Where’d you find these?” He asked in a threateningly calm voice, averting his eyes from your apparently disagreeable gaze.

“You know that’s confidential”, you replied, half-shrugging, nonchalant.

“I’ll drop you home”, he muttered, and shoved his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. 

With a defeated sigh you grabbed your purse and phone and proceeded to follow Minseok out of the only bar in Cheongsong, “No, it’s fine. I could use a walk.”

Suddenly, he turned around, searched your eyes for a fleeting second before admitting begrudgingly, “Kim Jongin. He’s the prime suspect in the first case. The murder of Park Soojin.”  

Your legs froze. “What?! Why?”

You knew Kim Jongin, like you knew everyone else in this town. His family owned one of the biggest apple orchards in Cheongsong but Kim Jongin never manifested that in his behaviour. He was known to be friendly, kind, sensitive. Almost too sensitive some would say.

“That’s it. That’s your nugget. Here.” He handed you a business card bearing the name ‘Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’. “He’s been informally assisting with offender profiling. He’ll talk to you. Seems like he’ll talk to anyone, really. Now get in the car, it’s freezing out here.” 

.

.

.

“Dr. Doh, thank you for taking the time to meet with me.”

Dr. Doh Kyungsoo’s home office was a detached unit with a separate entrance, distanced from his main residence. It was exactly the way you’d imagined a psychologist’s office to be - light coloured walls, comfortable chairs, soft pillows, insipid artwork. Neat and clean, fostering a sense of comfort for visitors. 

The Doh family had moved into Cheongsong shortly after you’d left for Seoul. Coming from old money in search of some peace and quiet, they invested in agricultural distribution, Cheongyang Pepper farms and assumed one of the more significant estates to live in while their only son, Doh Kyungsoo, was sent abroad to pursue higher education.   

“Please, call me Kyungsoo.” He took your hand in his, gave it a good, firm shake and gestured you to take the chair opposite his.

“I think ‘Dr. Doh’ should be fine”, you stated plainly and he acknowledged with a curt nod.

“What brings you here?” Asked Kyungsoo, holding your gaze, hands folded in his lap as he leaned back into his chair with a soft sigh. 

Grimacing, you waved your recorder at him, “They say you’re my ticket out of this godforsaken place.”

Minseok had helped you set up the meeting so you thought it proper to waive cumbersome introductions and niceties and Kyungsoo seemed very much in sync with your line of thought. 

He smiled, “I’m merely a bystander, Miss Jung, with slightly more informed opinions, maybe.”

“Informed opinions are what I’m here for, Dr. Doh.” You smiled back, “Superintendent Kim Minseok doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“He’s a man shackled by bureaucracy and I’m a constant reminder of his team’s staggering incompetence, If I were him, I wouldn’t like me very much either.”

“Do you think there’s a link between the two murders?” 

He nods. “I’m fairly certain there is.” 

“But the police won’t look into it? Why is that?”

“Nobody likes a serial, Miss Jung. Besides, there’s no way the team could cope with the increased workload of linked inquiries. There are over a hundred statements, documents, officers’ reports waiting to be read and actioned. And the case of Park Soojin is a peculiar one.”

“Kim Jongin’s girlfriend? How so?”

“She was the ex-wife of a member of the parliament. This case does absolutely no favours to his image so he needs it solved immediately.” 

The word solved was treated to air quotes.

“So, they’ve ruled him out as a suspect?”

“His alibi checks out. They suspect Kim Jongin.”

“Why? Just because Kim Jongin fled immediately after her body was found? How did the police react to that?”

“Because Jongin fled, his brother was asked to provide DNA which turned out to be a familial match to the DNA gathered at the crime scene. But that does not necessarily mean it’s the killer’s DNA. Miss Park was in a relationship with him. There’s no surprise his semen was found in her esophagus.”

“Do you rule him out as a suspect then?”

“I prefer to reserve my comment.”

“Why do you think he fled?”

“Grief drives us to do irrational things, Miss Jung. Maybe he just needed a breather from everything that was going on here. Can’t say for sure.”

“You’re certain the perpetrator is male?”

“Yes, I am. The perpetrator is male and an athletic one at that. Probably in his late twenties or early thirties. While the strangulation marks may be different, the pathologists reports suggest petechial haemorrhage in both cases which means he strangled and released and then strangled again, over and over. He’s either a sadist, or his hand lacks strength. You try it, grab my wrist.”

He extended his arm towards you and you politely declined. So he wrapped his right hand over his left wrist and held firmly for a few moments. 

“Forty seconds. It’s amazing how quickly the hand tires!” He exclaimed as if awestruck. It was the maximum emotion the inscrutable Dr. Doh had displayed during the course of this interview.

“Victims of strangulation are known to make a mess of themselves. They defecate and / or urinate..”

“That is correct. The bodies were both found posed and clean. Which means he spent hours after, washing them and cleaning the sheets, even. There could be a religious angle to this. Washing away their sins...maybe his own, considering he probably gets into the bath with them.”

He pushed a cup of long gone cold tea towards you, but you shook your head. As a crime reporter, you thought you’d seen it all but the possibility of this being the work of a serial killer was a first for you. Also the fact that it was happening in the place you grew up in was starting to gnaw at you a little more aggressively than you’d liked. 

“I’m not going to lie, Dr. Doh, this gives me pause for concern. Do you think there is a sexual angle to these killings? As far as I know, the victims have shown no signs of any such abuse.”

Kyungsoo sipped on his tea and worried at his lower lip briefly before responding. “I believe he’s the kind to take pictures, momentos from the scene. They sustain him between killings.”

“And the roses? There were..”

“Three next to Park Soojin’s corpse and two next to Seo Jinri’s.”

“Does it indicate -”

“- a countdown? Perhaps.” He studied your face intently and offered you tea again. This time you complied and then proceeded with the interview.

“There was no sign of forced entry in either cases. The police think the perpetrator was known to the victims.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. You see, Miss Jung, the problem is that these cases were treated as self solvers from the get go and that’s where it all went wrong.”

His smile at the end of that sentence was one of finality, somehow indicative that you’d overstayed your welcome. To be able to milk him for all he was worth, you were going to let him loose for the time being.

Clicking your recorder off, you tilted your head to the side, smiled politely, “Well, thank you for your time, Dr. Doh.”

“It’s been a pleasure.” 

While he was walking you to the front door, you couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Doh, if I may, were the victims known to each other? Were they friends? Acquaintances?”

“That’s for the police to investigate. They were both in their late twenties, highly qualified -  one was a solicitor the other a botanist, both tan with double eyelids, a little over 5 feet”, He took a step closer to you, instinctively you took an uncomfortable step back but found yourself trapped between him and the front door. His burgundy turtleneck smelt like warm, sweet gingerbread mixed with the contrastive redolence of something woody. He put his hand on the clip that held your hair in a bun, an elusive smile dancing on his lips as he allowed your hair to freely ripple down to your waist. “...and they both had dark, waist length hair”, he whispered into your ear, sending a frisson of fear down your spine.

You looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights as he slowly retracted. Eyes locked with yours and face contorted in a fierce frown, he concluded grimly, “You fit his profile.”

.

.

.

Unable to sleep well that night, you went for an early morning run the next day and took a detour to Minseok’s residence. After discussing your findings with him, he offered you a close protection officer who’d moonlight to provide you security just until they’d made an arrest. Which meant you’d have one uniformed officer standing guard outside your guest house all day. You knew that they wouldn’t have done this for you if your family name wasn’t Jung.

“Kim Jongin’s back in town.” Relief seemed to have smoothened the lines on Minseok’s forehead and there was a boost of confidence in his voice when he broke the news to you.

“Are you planning to take him in?” you asked, sipping on coffee in Minseok’s kitchen while he made you some eggs.

He looked victorious and his brows shot up to his hairline as he explained animatedly, “We have enough evidence to put him on trial. I’ll get the warrant in two days.” 

“Hand to your heart, do you think he did it?”

“Yah, I’d never be able to make an arrest like that. If you promise not to quote me, I will say that -” 

He peered at you questioningly and you eased him with a reassuring nod, “Go on.”

“This looks like the work of an outsider.”

.

.

.

Later that evening, you found Jongin seated alone at a table in the bar. Beaten, as if overcome with exhaustion he was crouched over a glass of scotch, a silent tear sliding down his cheek. You sat next to him and ordered him another drink.

“I killed her.” He stated simply, eyes trained on the empty glass in front of him. To see a man whose taste buds didn’t even agree with coffee back in the day downing hard liquor effortlessly, broke your heart.

“What?” you enquired, sparing no effort to lay the edge off of your voice.

“That evening, we’d had a huge argument. She- she’d been wanting to move out of here for the longest time and I never agreed. It was as if she knew!” Burying his face in his hands, he broke into full blown sobs. It was a while before he composed himself and spoke again, “Here, you have your story. Following a trivial spat, a small town chaebol kills his girlfriend.”

Shaking your head furiously in disagreement, you held him tightly by his shoulders, “This is your chance, Jongin. Speak your truth. Tell them that you didn’t do it. They’ll need to hear it from you!”

Jongin looked you in the eyes, his own brimming with tears, “I was twelve when my puppy died and I couldn’t seem to get over it. My mother gave me this book which said the only way men can get over grief is by showing indifference, I tried that with Soojin.”

Brows furrowed, you asked, “And?”

“It worked for an hour.” He chuckled darkly, “I loved her and I always will. At this point I just don’t care. I should’ve listened to her. Maybe I even deserve this. I see the way people look at me, I- I feel written off, ostracized. A goddamn parliamentarian wants me in. My truth won’t survive their might.” 

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you started to talk him out of potential suicide, “Jongin -” 

But he raised his forefinger to silence you. Trembling, he asked, “I just find myself wondering, can you die from a broken heart?”

.

.

.

Kim Jongin had turned himself in.

Acquiescent to the slow wheels of justice, moderately satisfied with the first draft of your article, and concerned about your safety, your boss agreed to call you back to the Seoul office, at least until there were further developments in the case.

During the course of your stay in Cheongsong, you drove past the little street leading up to the Mansion several times but not once did you glance in its direction. Before your flight the next morning, you decided to pay the house a little visit to say a final goodbye. The first snow had laid a fleecy white blanket on the ceramic roof that gleamed from the light of the astral light of the night sky. You were flooded with memories of chasing butterflies in spring, climbing the only mango tree in town which still stood proud in your backyard, the stories of monsters and ghosts your parents would read to you in the blanket forts you’d build together… blissfully unaware that in a not so far future this was all your life would entail - monsters and ghosts.

The great oakwood front door turned on its hinges and a familiar aroma of caramel apple hotteok invited you in. They say every house has a peculiar smell and yours smelt of caramel apple hotteok, even after all this time. Your lips curled upward at the strangeness of your sentiments. The demons you tried so hard to escape all your life seemed like bad dreams and what was left of this place within you was just the good. The pure, unadulterated joy that was once your childhood. 

You proceeded to the kitchen to fetch yourself a cup of hot water, and that’s when you heard a knock on the front door. You ignored it at first thinking it was just the wind but the knock came again. Louder, this time. You left the kitchen to answer the door.

“Dr. Doh!” you exclaimed, utterly surprised to see him here at this hour.

“Miss Jung”, he smiled sheepishly, “I went by the guest house but the guard said you were at the Mansion. I just wanted to say goodbye, I’m leaving for Gyeonggi in the a.m.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Uh - I’m sorry, please, come in.” 

He followed you to the kitchen and said apologetically, “I hope I’m not imposing.”

“No, not at all! Never quite realised just how massive this house actually is - It was starting to eat me up. Gyeonggi, you say?”

“Oh, it’s a cursed life as an independent consultant, Miss Jung. I’m mostly living out of a suitcase..”

“I wish I could say differently. So your presence here was requested by Minseok’s team?” You asked as he took a seat at the kitchen table.

“No, I arrived just about a month before the first murder. My parents passed in a car crash three years ago. So I decided to sell the estate and the pepper farms.” He explained, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

“Would you like some tea? I brought some tea bags with me. I don’t know which tea it is, though.” You offered, mindlessly pouring hot water into two cups. 

“Sure” , he nodded.

“So did you?”

“What?”

“Manage to sell everything? And I’m sorry - uh about your parents.” 

You didn’t feel sorry. What you felt was an inexplicable weight in your chest rendering you breathless. Your heart started pounding erratically and your mind clouded over with a sense of impending doom as you went about the mundane task of making tea. 

“You seem a little out of it, Miss Jung. Is something bothering you?” He got off his chair and guided you to yours as your legs threatened to give away.

You sipped on some warm tea to steady yourself and said to Kyungsoo, “Oh, no it’s … It’s just this house. Maybe you were right, Dr. Doh. This isn’t a good time. I’m sorry but I might have to ask you to leave.”

Kyungsoo didn’t react. At all. He stood still, eyes fixed on your trembling frame.

“Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill”, he whispered.

“What?” you asked feebly, still trying to get a hold of yourself.

Kyungsoo sauntered over to the kitchen counter and brought you a glass of water. “Pay attention, Miss Jung. Park Soojin wasn’t his first kill. He was sloppy with the first one and it was only by a stroke of luck that he managed to get away. So he planned better with Soojin. Got even better with Jinri.”

Startled, you looked him in the eyes and he gave you a smile that raised goosebumps on your skin. 

Unperturbed Kyungsoo continued, pacing leisurely in the kitchen, a spine-chilling hint of exhilaration in his voice. “His criminal sophistication indicates that he understands criminology and knows police work. Unfortunately, Miss Jung,”, his voice dropped and you suddenly felt shackled to your seat. Squirming, but unable to make any big movement like reaching out for something that was heavy or sharp or both, “The tragedy is that he’s always believed he’s inferior to these women. But -” 

Kyungsoo levelled his face with yours and grinned with a glimmer of victory in his eyes, “for every tragedy, there is a happy ending.”

It took all you could muster to hold it together and dash for your purse to retrieve your cell phone. But you didn’t find it in there. 

“Is this what you’re looking for?” asked Kyungsoo, teasing as he pulled your phone from the inside pocket of his overcoat and handed it to you. 

You tried to turn it on to no avail. Voice as steady as could be, you said to him, “Please, please just leave!”

He took two easy steps towards you and you found yourself encased between his body and the wall. “Well then you shouldn’t have let me in! Tell me something, how could the close protection officer have given me your whereabouts if you dismissed him immediately after Jongin’s arrest? Haven’t you learnt since you were a little girl - always keep your guard up. Think before you speak. Did you think you were invincible?”

He took your hand in his and guided you back to the kitchen table. Eyes brimming tears, body trembling, and mind overcome with dread you followed him as if he were the pied piper. The familiar scent of gingerbread wafted up your nostrils making you nauseous.

As soon as you took a seat at the table, he put on his gloves, and lay a bottle of red nail polish and a red rose before you.

“Just think about how you can be with them again, Miss Jung. And don’t worry...I’ll be gentle.”

***

A/N: YES! you’re absolutely right! i just wanted to write turtleneck murderer Soo -_-

[s-lily]

Loki in Thor

So I decided to watch Thor's MCU movies (again), this time paying special attention to Loki's POV, and oh boy! You know, I've always had a problem with Thor (2011), aka Loki's First Existential Meltdown, but this time it was too obvious and painful to watch (especially with access to all deleted scenes).

Spoiler ahead (but you know... from the 2011 Thor movie)

Let's take just a second to acknowledge that after he's told he was adopted, Frigga is the only one who validates him. She goes >>You are my son, and I love you. Here is Asgard, it's yours until Father awakes, my King<< he was so confused at the moment, and he didn't even want to take the scepter! A very important piece in Loki's journey, so what the studio decided to do? They deleted it! They justify everyone's (mostly the Warriors Three and Lady Sif) suspicion about him being evil. Well, he's not!

Honestly, Thors' friends are a little dense. Even without the deleted scene, let's recap the events: The King is indisposed (Odin is having his beauty sleep), the firstborn unavailable (Thor's has been exiled), and the apparent Regent unwilling (Frigga is worried for Odin and wanted to stay at his side), but somehow making the second born, Loki, the acting ruler is so treacherous. He must have surely stolen the throne! (note the sarcasm here)

Ok, I'm going to give them the benefit of the doubt because he didn't want to undo Odin's last order (although it's not like they need Thor back. Asgard was not in imminent danger or something. Basically, they are just unhappy that their best friend can not go out to play because he was grounded). But - insert frustration mannerisms here - Seriously? What did they expect? It's not like Odin is dead. He is going to wake up, and when he does, who will be the one in trouble because Thor is back? Ding! Ding! Ding! Exactly! Loki.

Not to mention the emotional turmoil in which Loki is at that point. He's not Odin's son, plus he's telling himself he is unworthy, a monster, a relic waiting to be used. He wants to prove him wrong, that he is worthy. He even goes to Earth and tries to lift Mjölnir, but he can't, and again he is reinforced with the idea that he is unworthy.

Now that we're are on Earth, let’s talk about why did he tell Thor that Odin is dead because of him? Surely he is evil, isn't he? Well, not really. I admit that telling Thor that was mean, but I think he is merely projecting his own feelings. Remember, Odin fell asleep meanwhile he was arguing with Loki. It's Loki's fault Odin is vulnerable, he feels guilty, but at the same time, Loki hasn't had the opportunity to overcome his existential crisis when talking to his father, and Thor is the only one who is available to work it out.

What about Frigga? You may ask. Frigga already validated him. She loves him, and he loves her. There is not more unfinished business with her. On the other hand, he has a lot of issues with Thor.

Sibling rivalry is normal, even Disney's perfect duo (Elsa and Anna) has some of it. Do you remember Anna's song about being like a little extra button? Probably not, because it's an outtake song - insert frustration mannerisms here - but look at it, and you'll know what I'm talking about. (More Than Just the Spare is the title). The point is that all the unspoken brother rivalry has multiplied it with the revelation of his true nature. Every single favor Odin had with Thor over him, no matter how minimal, now it's an open raw wound. He's envious more than ever.

Funny thing. Loki is the most sincere in this movie. In the deleted scene before the coronation, he said to Thor that sometimes he is envious, but never doubt he loves him (why delete it! it was only 3 minutes long! and the brotherly banter was great). He said to Thor in the final battle that he never wanted the throne, that's clear as crystal in the deleted scene when he is made King (again! why deleted such important 4 minutes!), and it's proved it again when he told Laufey he only showed them the way into Asgard to protect it from Thor's idiotic rule for a while longer. Please pay attention to the "a while longer" it means he has accepted Thor would be the king, he was at peace with that (even when Odin has told them both were born to be king), but he knew his brother was not ready, so he put that stunt with the Frost Giants in motion to prove himself right (he never intended to put Asgard at risk, he knew, as Odin said, it was the act of a few doomed to fail, he only wanted to ruin Coronation Day). He is sincere and confesses to his brother's friends he is the one who told the guard to go for dear daddy to stop them (which backfires because now Hogun and Sif think of him as a traitor. Just because he did the right thing to do! Even when all of them knew that going to Jötunheimr was a bad idea).

The sad thing is that Thor doesn't even know what is happening. He's on Earth having his Hero Journey until his friends find him (and gave him their version of the facts) and now his little brother suddenly turned vicious, and he doesn't know why.

Now, I want to rant about Heimdall. I understand the Warrior Three dislike for Loki (he is Thor's annoying little brother who always tags along, most likely to be the snitch, and who to Asgardian standards is not a skilled warrior because he prefers to use magic and tricks instead of brute force). However, Heimdall is supposed to be this wise man, yet he treats Loki, a Prince (don't forget about it), with disdain and disrespect. He has watched all of Loki's life. He's watched him grow. He knows he is a mischief kid, probably a little spoiled. (who would blame him? If someone messed with him, here comes big brother Thor at the rescue. If the thing turned serious, he is the second born of All-Father Odin. I would like to see somebody fight that. And hell sure, he's mommy's little boy, so he probably got away with a lot of things. Actually, that's probably what made him the Good of Mischief. Ok, I'm rambling now, back to the main issue) Heimdall knows he is clever, and honestly probably more apt for political affairs than Thor at this point, but when Loki is named king, he seems unable to show a little bit of loyalty. He's blind because Loki bypassed his all-mighty sight. Yikes! Chill out!, now he knows how everyone else feels.

Finally, the last blow. Loki said to Odin (and still refers to him as Father - I'm not crying, I'm not crying) that he could have succeeded. Wipe out all the Frost Giant, he could have eliminated all trace of his monstrous side. He said "for you" as in for you to be my only father, for you to accept me as your son, and not a relic to trade with, and what Odin said? No. (I'm well aware Odin said "No" more in like >>that's no the way, you're my son no matter what<<, and not like >>I don't accept you<< ) Loki is in a lot of emotional distress here, and he is hanging off the Bifrost's cliff, he feels rejected, he feels unworthy, so he let himself go. He drops loose from his father's scepter lets himself consume in the void of space.

And the hope of surviving wasn't on his face.

[uwua3]

hmmm can i request masumi moving on from the director to the assistant director (reader)? like how he would transition and realize that he doesn’t actually love the director and is falling in love with the reader instead? thank you so much. i love your headcanons. theyre super lengthy, and they capture the emotions of the characters perfectly!! keep up the good work, love! :)

thank you so much!!! i’m so glad that i can portray the emotions of a character somewhat well 🥺 i often have a hard time pinpointing exact feelings so i’m so happy it doesn’t hold back my writings! i will keep doing my best to bring you the coolest pieces ever, mark my words!!! but this prompt is so ??? interesting that i’ve been thinking about it outside of tumblr, you know! i’ve held this off until i had a solid idea so here i am! ready to bring this to justice, wish me well!!! ♡

summary: masumi’s love language is making playlists, apparently

warnings: absent parents, one (1) argument, unrequited love

author’s note: please understand masumi was a hopeless romantic teen who grew up without love so his crush on izumi is definitely unhealthy, but it makes sense for his background TT i hope he overcomes a character arc where he “falls out of love” and loves himself more :D

word count: 3,666

music: breakfast in the park – scotty sire

one playlist, one song.

🌸💌 usui masumi

everything masumi did was for izumi

he acted on stage flawlessly by the script just to hear her approval from backstage. he put his acting career before his studies to have her praise the next day when he memorized his lines. he woke up for izumi, and fell asleep to see her sooner. eat, sleep, and breathe for izumi. masumi was in love

it didn’t matter if she loved him back, it was the feeling he wanted

growing up, no one loved him. so this unrequited love wasn’t painful, maybe it’s what he deserved for being so hard to love. if only he was better, did everything to improve, used every waking hour of his time to become the person izumi wanted him to be, then maybe he’d be deserving

masumi loved izumi, at least, so he thought

(but was this true love? why did the people he love always reject him? what was wrong, what did he have to do to be loved?)

it was another day, masumi opened his eyes and his first immediate thought was to greet izumi “good morning” and make sure she had her breakfast the way she liked it. he would pull a chair out for her, sit across the table after preparing her favorite coffee perfectly, and spend every second in between with her until they had dinner together

it was a cycle, a pattern misumi couldn’t find himself not doing. he lived for it, it’s what he was born to do

when masumi hurried to the kitchen to remain on schedule, he stopped by the entrance. someone else was in izumi’s place, a mug in your hand with a packet of papers open on the counter. you didn’t notice the teen by the door as you read through the stack

huh... you weren’t izumi

you looked up from the fine text and saw a boy staring at you with an apprehensive expression, as if he was wishing to will you away with the sheer force of his glare. in fact, he even appeared frustrated, his eyes narrowed and arms crossed over his chest

(of course he was angry! you were in izumi’s place, you interrupted his entire plan of the day! this was taking time out of his “loving izumi” schedule)

before you could say anything, the director walked into the room and you knew what was going on. the teen’s eyes practically became hearts, you could hear the pulse of his heartbeat from where you were, he instantly smiled and his whole face changed

it didn’t take any skills whatsoever to know izumi had a (not so) secret admirer in the dorms

“masumi!” izumi said, smiling back at him and missing the way he immediately melted at the way she pronounced his name. masumi suddenly wanted to hear it again and again. if he had a tail, it’d be wagging everywhere from how overwhelmed he was with emotion

he trailed after her like a puppy, seeking her attention and touch as he mindlessly followed with wide sparkling eyes and a permanent blush

as he tried to continue their day as normal, izumi led him to you with a big grin as she placed him in front of you. he didn’t bother turning to look at you, his entire focus was on izumi like he was stuck in a daydream

it wasn’t until izumi said those words that changed the rest of his life that he snapped his eyes towards you

“—meet our new assistant director! they’re going to be your acting coach!”

and ever since then, masumi’s hated you

it didn’t take long before the spring troupe members confessed izumi used to be masumi’s daily acting coach after practice. now that you took over her position, you basically stole him away from her (meaning less time for masumi to try to win over his true love)

(truthfully, izumi was grateful you replaced her. it was mentally draining to have to reject every single advance from the lovesick teen without breaking his heart. she pulled you into a hug with a relieved exhale, thanking you for your service as you wondered what she meant by that. you found out very quickly afterwards)

masumi couldn’t have ditched extra practice or else he’d let izumi down. so, he stayed against his will, using every chance to silently express his complaints about spending his limited time with you instead of izumi

of course, you didn’t react. you wanted to make a good impression for your first official job as the mankai assistant director (thank god your high school had a connection to offer apprentinceships), knowing this was an opportunity of a lifetime to even be inside the theatre business

(yet, you were questioning if masumi was a test or not. was this a test to prove you were patient, respectful, and willing to adapt to different types of actors? there was no way this kid was this in love with a grown woman, he couldn’t have possibly been this infatuated with izumi to the point of desperation)

(he was)

a week or two into extended practice and you were already stretched thin. masumi never took off his goddamn headphones, his volume on max with rock music damaging his eardrums as he barely paid attention to you. just nodded whenever you attempted to reprimand him, he didn’t care at all as he treated you with no respect

you were tempted to snatch his headset off and make him actually do something. you stood across from him in the practice room, his slouched posture completely not fitting the character he was portraying and his mumbled words the exact oppoosite of his performance whenever izumi was around

as he skimmed over his part and boredly stated the line in a monotonous attitude, you took a deep breath in and out with a forced smile

“masumi, perhaps you should emote more, with feeling.” you advised, your cheeks hurting from how strained your facial expressions were. masumi hummed, rolling his eyes as he turned the volume up higher (how was that even possible?)

“masumi, please pay attention.” you warned, an edge to your voice as masumi didn’t even acknowledge you. he glanced towards the door, as if hoping izumi would come through, then at the clock with a very disappointed sigh

“masumi.” you said, clutching the script in your fist as you tried to not cross your arms. your patience was on thin ice, how long would his bratty and arrogant attitude hold? you exhaled sharply, trying to maintain your composure for the sake of your internship

he didn’t respond. he yawned and stretched, as if he had just woken up. was masumi spaced out this entire time? you went to open your mouth and ask about his well–being (perhaps, you were being too critical of him. you were also a high school student, he must’ve been pressured in class), but before you could speak, he turned away with a curse

“shut up already, you’re so fake.” masumi mumbled, about to push his headphones over his ears completely but you threw the script onto the floor, startling him as it was your turn to glare at him

“usui masumi!” you shouted with disappointment, not believing your ears. why were his first words to you an insult? you wanted to go back to the stage of your relationship where he didn’t speak at all

masumi stared at you with an impatient look, as if he was waiting for you to get it over with already

“you want the truth, then? well, here it is!”

before you could stop yourself, you released all the anger you bottled up ever since you worked with him in a singular sentence

“izumi doesn’t love you, she never did and she never will, so give up already.”

this was the first time masumi even reacted to your words. his eyes widened, his hands frozen hovering above his headphones and his breath hitched in his throat. you instantly knew what you said was out of line, and when you tried to apologize, masumi sprinted out of the practice room rubbing at his eyes

the door slammed close, echoing in the corridor as you released a breath you weren’t aware you were holding. what could you do now? practice was over early, apparently

you were waiting for it to come, you knew you were being fired. you anxiously paced the floor, checking your phone multiple times to see if a notification with your resignation was arriving. it never did, even throughout the night, as you arrived to the mankai dorms with the weight of your outburst on your shoulders

as usual, you greeted the other troupes with respect despite being around the same age as them. in terms of their careers, they were leaps and bounds and years ahead of you and you made sure they knew that. they responded back friendly enough, offering sympathy most times whenever it was time to work with masumi

this time, the dorms were awkwardly quiet. it looked as if everyone was wary, looking out for something, on edge as they quietly moved around and tip–toed outside a certain door. members shushed each other with a hiss whenever a cabinet door slammed shut, or a bowl clattered against the table surface too long. it was an organized plan to not die, apparently

“what’s—” you started but were immediately silenced by a few pushing their pointer fingers to their lips with a warning expression. you bowed slightly as an apology and lowered your voice, glancing around you for the threat

“what’s wrong?” you whispered and everyone didn’t hesitate to point to masumi’s dorm room door. you learned that, to your surprise, masumi refused to leave his dorm and didn’t even let izumi in (you also found out he didn’t tell anyone what had happened between you two and your lack of professionalism)

you guessed this was going to be your apology then for not making you lose your job on the first day

when you straightened your back and confidently made your way to masumi’s door, the hushed warnings and pleas not to perish right then and there faded when you rapidly knocked on the surface with a stubborn intent to your actions

“masumi, it’s time for practice.” you called through the door, able to pick up on the vibrations of the music he was blasting through a speaker. no response, as expected of the drama queen (he was a teenager, after all)

“masumi, come outside or i’m making you.” you demanded, knowing he heard you when the volume was lowered a bar. it was instantly increased to the max, making most of the boys wince and cover their ears as the floor beneath them shook. you knew what this was: a challenge

scrolling through your albums, you found it and pressed play

without warning, masumi whipped his head towards his door as he heard something other than his own music

were you... were you playing the latest single of his favorite band?

you pressed your phone speaker below the door frame, letting it pass through the crack as he slowly turned down his own volume, staring at where the sound was coming from

after more than half the song, you breathed a sigh of relief when his door finally opened. masumi stood in front of you, his headphones pushed down to his neck, as he observed you (it was like he was really seeing you for the first time)

“you...” masumi paused, unsure how to continue. the song was winding down and fading out, coming to an end as he blankly stared at you. you fidgeted under his stare gazing through your soul, wondering if you had gone too far before—

“you know my favorite band?”

you blinked in surprise, as if you were expecting literally any other accusation but that. you nervously laughed, rubbing the back of your neck as you looked anywhere but at him. was it weird to admit that?

“y–yeah, of course. you play them all the time, so i assumed. i took a listen, they’re not bad.” you rambled, about to continue before masumi bent down to grab your smartphone. he held it out to you, which you took as he glanced at you up and down. was that, an impressed look to his face?

“of course they’re ‘not bad’. i listen to them.” masumi said, taking his script and leaving in the direction of the practice room without another word. you scrambled after him, attempting to keep up (you were usually the one dragging him to go)

masumi tried not to think about it too hard, but he did anyways

izumi didn’t even know what type of music he liked, but you did

it was during that fateful practice where masumi actually made an effort to try, and it’s like the fight from yesterday didn’t even happen

mankai couldn’t believe it—you actually managed to coax masumi out of his toxic mood swings. even izumi had a hard time processing it, confirming her gut feeling that she hired you for a reason

your hours with him increased, coincidentally enough

ever since then, you began learning more and more about who masumi truly was. any other person would’ve dismissed him as problematic for his borderline–creepy attraction to izumi, but past that, you realized there was a deepy rooted traumatic reason why masumi sought love from a select few

masumi was more than his love at first sight crush on izumi. you learned through his short, slightly rude responses, that his parents were absent from his life. when you put two and two together, it was obvious his guardians abroad didn’t give him the approval he needed as a child

(you made an effort to praise him more, genuinely complimenting his talents and encouraging him to do even better. you never noticed, but masumi’s face burned from being appreciated for once)

yet, you weren’t afraid to discipline him. you knew uninvolved parents meant a lack of authority in his life, resulting in his indifferent approach to everything. in a way, your ability to keep a level head but still reprimand him when necessary kept practice productive and functional (you learned being honest didn’t hurt his feelings one bit)

your relationship with masumi bloomed to be more than two aspiring actors. if you were lucky enough, you would even consider him a friend

he liked checking out new physical music releases in the form of cds and had a huge collection of post/progressive rock organized on his desk. when you gave him a mixtape of your favorites to share your music taste, you noticed it was closest to his player

(one time, izumi was worried about him. it had been quite some time since the last time masumi tried flirting with her. she was about to walk into his room before izumi noticed it was left open a crack. she looked in and saw masumi was lying in bed, staring at nothing with a small smile on his face as he listened to an unfamiliar song. it was your cd on repeat)

after school, you and masumi often rode the train back home if the mood called for it. he always leaned against the doors, staring out of the blurry windows with his headphones on and seemingly thinking of everything at once (probably izumi, considering how many times he subconsciously smiled to himself)

you sat beside him, focused on your apprentinceship work and staying on top of all your tasks. it was pretty much a quiet ride home, your friendship with masumi didn’t require talking to fill the silence. the comfortable gap between you two was expected, just two people co–existing with one another

except this time, it was different

you opened your laptop, about to start working before you glanced at masumi and stopped. he didn’t have his classic white headphones on, he always had them

before you could offer your own, masumi turned towards you, holding out one earbud with the other in his left ear

when you took it and placed it on your own ear, masumi slid over to sit closer and the casual distance suddenly closed. he shuffled through some playlist, he liked making them even if he did it rarely

masumi turned his head to look at you, and he seemed to be quietly asking what your opinion was on the track

(how much time had you spent with him that you had familiarized yourself with his complex body language?)

you closed your laptop and put it back in your bag. scooting closer, your legs were touching as you leaned over to read the title, humming a sound of agreement

“this is one of my favorites.” you confirmed, moving back only to realize how close your faces were. one wrong move and—

“me too.” masumi said, and he smiled

you wondered where you had seen that smile for and remembered: it was the smile he had given izumi every time he saw her in the morning

could it be?

you two listened to the music for the rest of the train ride, feeling as if you were trapped in a timeless space as no rules applied here. it was like your own little world, with masumi by your side and the background soundtrack of all your favorites

(misumi remembered your favorites, too. at the departure, you noticed he had messaged you a link. it was to the playlist he played earlier and a comment: thanks for the mixtape)

you two headed to the dorms, hands brushing and no words exchanged, like always. you weren’t aware how close you had become with the boy in love until now, especially with a singular cord keeping you two together

yet, it was as if nothing changed. when masumi saw izumi, he became the character everyone thought he was: a lovesick teenager in an unrequited relationship. he left you and sought izumi’s nonstop approval, his earbud pulled out of your ear as you watched

why was he such a different person around her? which version was his true self? and why did you want to know so bad?

(maybe, you wanted to be the one who knew masumi inside and out)

after that, you asked to ride the train home more. it was one of the only times you had him for yourself

sharing music became a way of communication over talking. you could predict masumi’s mood based on what he was listening to, and you always knew what to do when it came down to it. if masumi had something to express without his usual bitterness, he’d send a song and wait for you to listen it in full just to be understood. sometimes, his playlists even spelled out sentences

your relationship with masumi was mutual, and that was a first for him. he didn’t feel like he had to spend every second with you to confirm your friendship. he sometimes saw you irregularly throughout the day, but enjoyed it regardless

what was different was you made an effort to see him, you showed up to practice early with new song suggestions and plans to attend more music concerts. you included him, didn’t let him off easy, and had high expectations without being like his parents

no one wanted him around like you did, he had never felt this before. was this what it was like? being loved?

as you guys kept walking home with his earbuds connected, masumi was fully aware of how he wanted to hold your hand

“what is it?” masumi began, pushing his hand in his pant pocket to keep his voice steady. “love?”

you stopped, causing him to pause with you as he felt the tug of the cord. masumi turned towards you, the lyrics still played in the background as the instruments continued. a verse passed before you answered slowly, as if you were unsure and contemplative yourself

“love... love is what you feel. it isn’t defined, but it’s what you have for something that makes you happy, that motivates you to do your best.”

masumi didn’t seem to understand, so you explained further

“like, doesn’t music make you happy?”

masumi nodded

“then you love music!”

masumi seemed to understand as you two kept walking. but, masumi was even more confused, because didn’t that mean he loved you? you made him happy, you were his source of motivation

“then do you love me?”

you didn’t stop this time, but walked faster as you fell out of step with masumi. a new song was playing, but you couldn’t hear it over your own heartbeat

“don’t ask things like that, especially when you love izumi.” you laughed, but there was no humor whatsoever. masumi didn’t say anything else and the silence returned, it wasn’t as comfortable anymore

when you two walked through the front door, masumi hesitated. wasn’t this the point where he quickly latched onto izumi’s side? why did he want to stay with you? masumi glanced at you and before he could say anything, you gave him back your earbud and left to do your job

izumi waved at him, and masumi followed. for some reason, he questioned if izumi had ever heard his music before

(he realized, he never made a playlist for her)

it was nearing the end of your shift, you had blocked out your thoughts with the masumi method: maxing out your headphone volume as you revised masumi’s lines and corrections for next practice

your phone pinged, making you flinch at the sudden sound as you pushed the papers to the side. you sat with your chin on your knees, leaning against the practice room mirror as you lazily grabbed your phone, unlocking it to see a new text from masumi

it was another playlist titled “you make me happy, you motivate me”

you opened it and was about to press play before you noticed there was only one song

“i love you”

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Feverish and Teary & How Long Has it Been Since You’ve Eaten- Prompt Fill

@thatonekidellis​ Jon, Tim, and Martin have a rough time after the Unknowing. Especially Jon.  I hope this is kind of what you were asking for?  

@janekfan​ you get a ping because this is your au!

CWs: nausea, vomiting, fainting, fever, food mention, alcohol mention, canon typical mentions of Tim's pre-unknowing mindset, canon typical Jon not taking care of himself.

I am still accepting bingo prompts, so let me know which character, which prompt, and if you want a drawing of a fic!  Bingo card by the wonderful @celosiaa​!  This one is twice my usual length because it is two prompts and I did not want to cheat!

The Unknowing blows up.  

As simple as that.  

All according to plan.  

It really is as simple as that.  

Jon, Tim, Daisy, Basira.  Piled back in Daisy's car.  Ears ringing.  Soot slowly settling.  Trying to drive away before the actually police get there.  

It hasn't been Jon's problem how to avoid arrest.  

He is even more glad it isn't his problem now, as he slides down the beat up seat in the back of Daisy's car.  Ash streaks the window, mixing with the light rains that is starting to fall.  

Jon tries not to vomit the nothing he's eaten in the last couple days.  Nothing in him but frayed nerves and statements.  Hadn't even managed to stomach dramamine before their trip.  

Jon just wants to sleep.  

They still have their hotel reservation for another couple hours, so Daisy drives them back there to clean up before heading back to London.  Yes they have to go back today, it's less suspicious.  Jon isn't sure if that is actually true, but he doesn't have the energy to argue.  

Tim showers.  Jon sends a text to Martin.  'Alive.'  

He doesn't answer Martin's near-immediate call because just then he's dry-heaving into the small bin in the corner.  Stiff and shaking and sweaty and miserable.    

Jon showers.  Too dizzy to stand, he sits on the shower floor.  He hates that.  The tub feels filthy.  He feels filthy.  He scrubs his skin raw.  He stands.  He throws up more nothing.  He scrubs himself again, leaning heavily on the wall.  

He wants to talk to Tim.  He wants to tuck himself into Tim's arms and never move again.  Christ, he's running an impressive fever.  Probably.  It's hard to tell.  And his brain is swimming too much to even think about asking the Eye.  

He's cold.  He shivers in his threadbare joggers and stolen jumper (Martin's).  

He wants to join Tim on the bed by the window, but Tim ...looks too deep in a melancholy thought to even notice.  Somewhere between losing his drive for anything, adrenaline crash, and losing the last hope of a last glimpse of Danny, if Jon were to guess.  

Jon could say something.  He knows he could.  But, hasn't he caused enough of a fuss?  Made Tim and Martin trail after him after the ...the.... with Daisy and... that.  If he'd have just stayed quiet and stayed still... well Tim would still hate him... and might not be alive... but ....but he's caused so much worry with that.  And then with... his other kidnapping No.  He can't think about what that... what... not without puking again which... the point is not to worry Tim.  Which means he should try some medicine again.... if he can keep it in him half an hour he'll survive the drive back.  Probably.  

Christ, when is the last time he bothered to drink anything?  

He lays there in a daze until Daisy bangs on the door telling them it's time to leave.  

Tim sleeps on the drive back.  Finally giving into the last few sleepless nights.  Jon is jealous.  

Last night had been spent tangled together, shaking, awake, and silent.  Anxiety too thick to slice with words.  Not even nothing to turn off the lights, because the fear is a little easier to manage in the light.  Jon couldn't stop thinking about Nikola.  He couldn't stop thinking about plastic hands on him.  Couldn't stop thinking about how many things could go wrong and how he could lose Tim and Martin when he only just got Tim back.  

Jon was pretty sure Tim hadn't been sleeping the last few nights.  Jon knows he hasn't.  Not that he has slept well in a long time.    

In any case, Tim sleeps.  Jon doesn't.  

Daisy glares at him through the review mirror.  Jon isn't sure if she is still waiting for him to prove himself monstrous so she can attack, or if she is making sure he isn't ill in her car... again.  (He really wishes he could forget his first ride in her car.  Really really really wishes.  It was not a pleasant experience for anyone, and Daisy had made him pay the cleaning bill.)  

It doesn't matter, he slides down further in his seat and closes his eyes tightly.  

His head hurts.  

Thankfully the medicine knocks him out soon enough.  

Martin greets them at the institute door.  Melanie by his side.  

Jon hazily wakes up to Martin gently touching his shoulder.  

"You actually made it!  I'm so glad you're safe... I was so worried, Jon why didn't you answer your phone, I've been so worried, I mean I know you would have said something if something had happened, but Christ I've been so worried about you, come here."  

Jon starts mumbling some apologies, but is interrupted by Martin gently gathering him in a hug.  Jon sinks into it, fervently hoping Martin doesn't notice the heat rolling off of him.  

Thankfully Martin is too distracted, gathering Tim in a crushing embrace.  Likely very relieved that Tim didn't die, and knowing Tim is harder to break than Jon with his delicate bones and fragility following many incidents.  

Jon... doesn't really know what he's trying to accomplish.  Just... get out?  Or go in?  Or get to the cot?  Or just curl up on the cold tile of the basement toilets?  Get away from people he will inevitably worry?  

Just go somewhere where he can fall apart without taking anyone else down with him.  

It looks like Martin has been crying.  Jon hopes it isn't over him.  

Tim needs to recover from the emotional toll of the last few days without having to pick up the pieces after Jon Again.  

Jon slowly backs away.  

His head is swimming, but that's okay.  If he can just reach the Archives.  The cot.  Anywhere.  Anywhere away from this moment.  This breath.  

His vision swims violently, and there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to be very well acquainted with the pavement in a matter of seconds.  Either that or he's going to be ill?  No.  Sidewalk.  He's going to eat the sidewalk.  Heh... first thing he'll have eaten in days.  

He isn't sure if he loses consciousness or not.  It's hard to tell in the blur of motion and sounds and his spinning head.  Sound is almost gooey in this state of almost unconsciousness, but he thinks someone might be shouting.  Or several someones.  He should maybe worry about this?  But in actuality, he is praying he properly passes out to save himself any more embarrassment and save himself from his unsteady insides.  

His face hurts.  

Someone is holding him.  

Jon fights to open his eyes.  They don't seem to want to look in the same direction, rolling in their sockets instead of doing what he wants them to.  He blinks hard a few times, failing to bring things into focus.  Glasses?  Does he still have those?  Did they break?  No... still there.  Skewed on his face.  Just... too dizzy to see, then.  

Daisy and Basira are glaring at him.  Melanie is walking away.  Possibly.  Hard to tell when the world is tilting with unsteady regularity.  

Jon closes his eyes again, pressing a groan against the nausea that threatens to overcome him, despite the medicine.  

"Jon?"  

"Burning up."

He's too hazy to put a name to a voice.  The words dripping in the air around him, tightening around his chest, silly string sitting on his skin in fibrous heaps that jiggle uncomfortably, cold and clammy.  

Shit, thinking in gibberish.  That can't be good.  

“Does anyone know how long he’s been ill?”  

Someone grunts.  

Footsteps.  Two sets?  I’m asking away.  Leaving him.   

“I.... I don’t know.  I don’t think he was feverish last night?  But... I haven’t exactly been... It’s.  It’s been hard.”

“Jon?”

He’s being jostled.   He whines.  Stomach flopping dangerously.   

"Jon?  Are you awake?  Can you open your eyes for me?"  

"Oh shit, he's gonna puke."  

He's being lifted, shifted on his side, bin shoved in his hands.  Where he throws up more nothing.  

He's crying now, feeling like utter shit, and unfortunately more awake.  

He isn't sure if eyes swimming with tears is better or worse than the unsteady world tipping around him and making him feel worse.  

"Christ, Jon!"  

He finally pries his eyes open.  Martin and Tim solidify above him.  More or less.  Still fuzzing in and out of focus.  

Now that he's crying, he just... can't stop.  Fistfuls of Martin's sweater.  

"Oh Jon..."  Martin's arms circle him, carefully.  Gentle not to jostle him more.  

"Buddy.  Think we can get you off the sidewalk?"  Tim.  Cupping his face.  Smoothing back sweat and tear soaked hair, long since escaped his bun, still not dried from his earlier shower.  "My flat isn't far, you know?  Didn't bring my car here, though.  Still... wasn't..."

Tim cuts himself off, but even addled as he is, Jon can fill in the rest of the sentence.  

So can Martin apparently, because Martin frowns.  It's never been more apparent that he's been crying quite recently.  "Still weren't sure you were coming home...  Tim..."  And his eyes start looking damp.  

Tim is tearing up now.  "Martin... let's not in the street...  I can carry Jon back to mine, it isn't far.  You can come too.  We'll get some take out.  Drink some whiskey.  Get Mr. Smoking hot cooled off.  We can talk then.  It's.... it's been a rough week."  

"Jon?  Can I carry you?  I think that might be less rough than a cab ride?  Do you need a few minutes?"  

Martin's voice is soft, and Jon thinks he could sleep right there.  In fact, he might.  So he nods.  

Martin lifts him carefully.  His head swims again.  This all is feeling rather familiar.  Jon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  He tries to relax despite the lingering anxieties about heights.  Martin feels safe.  Tim is also safe now.  He lets himself drift.  

He wakes briefly on the trip.

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"  Tim.  Tim seems off.  Too many things crossing his face to parse out, probably even for someone with a better sense than Jon of what those subtle face changes mean.  But Jon is too hazy to think.    

Jon's mouth feels gummed up.  His eyes feel gummed up.  

He's thankful his mouth doesn't taste like something died in it, though.  Although he is very aware how unhealthy it was that he's spent a good portion of the day with his body trying to turn itself inside out, and he couldn't so much as produce bile.  

Jon feels sick thinking about it, so stops.  He drifts again.  

He wakes to a damp rag on his forehead, no memory of anything past the explosion. 

How did he get here? 

"Sorry, that looked like a nice sleep, but you'll feel better with some medicine in you, and some water.  We can try some tea later, once the meds work.  And some food hopefully."  

Martin helping him sit up.  Just enough to get a few sips and some pills into Jon.  Which, Jon thought was probably optimistic, but he'd try it for Martin.  

"When was the last time you ate?" Martin again.  

Jon blinks at him in confusion.  "Is it over?"  

"Is what over?"  Still Martin.  

Where's Tim?  Where's Daisy?  Where's Basira?  Where's Melanie?

His breathing picks up, and that makes his head spin again, and makes him wonder just how long he can keep the medicine down.  

"Is it over, what happened?"  He's panting now, halfway to a panic attack.  

"Jon?  Jon!  Calm down.  Can you take a breath for me?"  

How did he get here?  Where is he?  This looks like Tim's flat, but there is Tim?  Did he survive.  

Jon reaches for anything.  But comes up blank.  

"Where's Tim?  What happened?"  He gasps out.  It feels like his ribcage is shrinking, being laced up the front. fighter than the corset he had worn in acting class in uni.  

"Tim's... taking a moment.  As soon as we got you here... he.... it's been rough on him, you know?  He did all this for... and I know he said he wanted to live.  He wants to live... but he's... not been in a good place and it's helped that you two are talking again... and that he's had company more... but he saw an old picture with.... with his brother.... and that polaroid with ... with Sasha.  Well, he keeps going between you know tearful and sorry and cackling about how everything blew up.  It's... probably a lot to have three revenge schemes going at once for the same.... not a person really... but ... Her.  And then... having it sorted.  But...  Listen Jon I don't know.  What don't you remember... or what's the last thing you remember?"  Martin edges on histerical near the middle, but takes a turn for the sad near the end.  

"I remember the... the world was all wrong.  Then... then it blew up.  Is it over?  Martin are you real.  Is everyone alive?  What happened to you?"  He's desperate.  Desperate breaths too shallow.  Words interrupted by jagged pulling of too thin oxygen.  He's going to pass out.  

He does.  

He wakes feeling... clearer.  The last period of wakefulness a distant and flighty thing, dancing just out of his reach.  The rest of the embarrassing day back in vivid detail.  Tim's sitting over him.  Or rather, curled around him.  Jon's hair is being played with.  A stray curl looped around Tim's finger as he laughs softly to himself.  Muttering that he's alive.  That Jon's alive.  That Martin is alive.  he didn't lose anyone else.  That that clown is finally dead.  Finally.  

Gentle and warm hand on his face, refreshing the cloth.  Checking his temperature.  

"I..."  Tim chokes on a sob.  And Jon tries to remember how his arms work so he can let Tim know he's there.  

"Tim?"  

"Hey bud... sorry."  Tim wipes his eyes on his sleeve.  "It's been a hell of a week.  I... don't know how to feel about it.  Fuck I need a drink....  And to check in with Martin.  I... he hasn't told me what happened, but he's upset.  And.  Fuck I should have noticed you were ill, why didn't you say anything?"  Tim's voice starts to rise, and Jon tenses.  All the times Tim yelled at him still too fresh in his mind.  He trusts Tim.  he does... but Christ he is still afraid.  Afraid that it can't last, that it isn't real.  Where it be a trick of his mind, or some manipulation tactic to an end Jon can't see, he doesn't know.  

"Hey.  Hey.  Buddy... Jon.  I'm sorry.  didn't mean to yell.  It's just... been a day.  I'm not mad at you.  I just... I'm worried about you and Martin and I...I don't know how to feel about everything that happened.  I'm sorry you feel like shit."

Jon feels... like shit.  Marginally less nauseous, however.  A little less like he's going to pass out again.  Probably been given plenty of pills by Martin.  

"Sorry."  He croaks.  Voice probably shredded with smoke.  And fever.  

"He, bud, don't apologize.  I'm sorry I didn't notice you weren't well.  I... I thought I knew better than to be that preoccupied.  I mean... I guess I didn't make it worse this time, but..."  Tim sighs.  "I'm disappointed in myself because I don't want to fuck this up again.  And no don't apologize again part of that was on me and yes part of that was on you and we've done apologies to death.  All we can do now is keep going.  I just wanted to protect you and I couldn't see you were fading in front of my eyes.  Again.  I know you haven't been eating or sleeping, but I haven't been either so I didn't want to call you on it, and I didn't want you to call me on it, but I should have noticed.  I know I couldn't have done much, but I didn't do anything but shut you out again.  I could have told someone to stop to get you medicine, or food or even a bit more rest.  I know that would have done fuck-all, but I still could have offered you a little comfort and warmth and had us brought straight back here."  

Tim's crying properly now.  Jon is too.  Not sure if it is the fever, or just... everything.  There is so much to feel and think and worry about and yes they saved the world but that the fuck comes next.  

What comes next is that Martin enters with tea for Jon and a bottle of whiskey.  

Jon scrubs at his eyes.  "Martin what happened?"  Jon can see he's been crying again.  That is starting to scare him.  It's a goddamn miracle he hasn't pulled an answer out of anyone yet today.  

"It's... well it isn't fine.  I... well our plan worked here too.  Just... you know... Elias.  He can.... He can do things.  It's fine.  It's worth it."  Martin swipes at his eyes furiously.  

Jon pushes himself up, ignoring the room tilting around him, and hugs Martin.  Jon's still crying.  Martin sniffling.  Tim also crying.  It's... a very damp hug.  And Jon knows he's too warm to be comfortable to hold, and he's shivering hard enough to rattle Tim and Martin.  

"I'm... I'm so sorry Martin."  Jon chokes out.  

"It's alright.  It was worth it.  And you both.  Christ I am so glad to see you again... I thought... I thought.... I didn't..."  Martin is fully sobbing now.  Tea set down on Tim's bedside table, the whiskey being pried from his hands by TIm.  

Late that night the bottle is empty (and so are a couple more), Tim and Martin have killer headaches, and Jon is still feverish, but less so.  A lot of tears have been shed.  And Jon has been plied with enough liquids that he feels a little less like a crumbling husk.  

By the time that Tim and Martin are ready to think about food, Jon is finally feeling like he can maybe stomach something.  They order takeout.  Jon... has some broth. 

By morning Jon manages a few bites of leftovers.  

By afternoon, Elias Bushard is arrested.  

[darkpoisonouslove]

Trivia Tuesday

I decided to give you some details about Prey on the Heart since I have been planning this for about 11 months and I also researched the shit out of some of the details. Not that you’d guess it because almost none of that made it into the text itself so I wanted to put it out in the light.

- First of all, Violet. I mentioned that in the text but all hunting dogs including Violet are trained by Lysslis and they are conditioned how to behave. Valtor has been working on undoing some of Lysslis’ control over Violet but if it came to it, Lysslis could probably make her abandon him and side with her. Her grip on the dogs’ minds is that strong because otherwise Violet is the most loyal dog there is and would never abandon Valtor. Also, she’s had her shots against rabies so Griffin couldn’t catch anything from getting bitten. (Trust me, I was no fan of letting her get bitten and not get help after that but there was no way for it to happen. I needed their magic to be limited in some way (since they weren’t really supposed to have any but then the bracelets with obsidian happened and it was game over for my common sense.)

- About the magic in this AU (again, it was supposed to be just some rudiments in energy flows in the cosmos but my brain had other plans) - there is no Dragon Fire. Valtor’s fire magic is just that. The Ancestral Witches have their usual powers and they are after resources. Mainly, the resource of human lives since that can be used for unlimited purposes but they also don’t mind stealing other resources from other planets. However, the trick to that is that they need to know when and where portals to other planets will open and that only comes from deep knowledge about space and the energy currents in it. And that is where Griffin comes in.

- Obsidian is a planet with a lot of obsidian under its surface which makes it infertile and poor in resources since Obsidian is said to draw in negativity. As such it cleanses the rest of the universe but the planet itself suffers and that’s why it was never highly populated to begin with. The Ancestral Witches used that and bought a lot of the marked down land. They set up their mansion there and repopulated the barren forests with animals for them to hunt because they are just cruel like that. However, due to all the obsidian under the planet’s surface, their magic is subdued. Lysslis especially is not having a great time because obsidian is believed to block psychic attacks and so it affects her powers the most.

- And now for some general stuff on obsidian that kind of relates to my story. There are other colors of obsidian but I decided that black worked best for my story. Blades, statues, mirrors and jewelry can be made from obsidian and it’s also used in medicine since it’s better than surgical steel which that makes obsidian products is the main industry and main source of income for the planet. However, obsidian is easy to scratch, break or chip, which isn’t necessarily bad for the business since people will regularly need replacements. And now for some hilariously ironic (in the context of the story) properties of obsidian - it symbolizes purification, transformation, fulfillment, practicality, growth, exploration of the unknown (and enslaving the people from there apparently), new horizons. It enhances truth, acts as a shield against negativity, draws out mental stress or tension, clears confusion and provides clarity to the mind, helps you find who you truly are, dissolves emotional blockages and ancient traumas, promotes compassion and strengths, detoxifies, warms extremities (they really deep froze Griffin). Black obsidian specifically enforces self-control and facing your true self, gives strength and patience to overcome challenges, reigns in scattered energies, helps choose the path towards light and love. Also, obsidian is known as the stone of the spirit.

(This is a sketch of the obsidian belladonna I did way back when I first came up with the idea):

- The obsidian belladonna is something I made up as a species that is confined only to the planet of Obsidian. It is regular belladonna but with obsidian crystals running through the plants in black threads. They crystalize over the edges of the petals to form a thin, sharp black crust. It starts looking a lot like a shuriken but it’s a plant instead of metal. The obsidian crust is so fragile that it breaks when you cut yourself on it and that releases the poison directly in your veins. The obsidian threads run from the roots to the crust forming on the petals which is a problem because the root is the most poisonous part of the plant and that poison is now in the black crystal that just broke in your skin.

- Now the same for amethyst since I mentioned that island orbiting an uninhabited planet. I wasn’t originally going to include that but then I read up on amethyst and it happened. Amethyst is known as the Gem of Fire but at the same time is associated with February (aka winter aka snow and ice) and Neptune - the Roman god of the sea, which worked perfectly for me because I always compare Griffin’s temper to water. The name comes from the word ametusthos which means not intoxicated. Amethyst stimulates and soothes the mind and energies, is used to align planetary and astrological influences, controls evil thoughts, protects from treachery and surprise attacks as well as witchcraft and dark magic and disease and infection, brings victory, assists hunters, strengthens the thinking process and imagination and intuition, calms angry temperaments, gives meaning to relationships, heals skin, reduces pain and swellings. It is also known as the soul stone and symbolizes faithful love, energy of fire and passion, imagination, logic and emotion, self-esteem, self-knowledge. It brings comfort when grieving a lost loved one and a locket of amethyst can be used to call back lost love (guess what Girffin’s plan was there). It is known as the soul stone and is a fresh start crystal that is perfect for the researcher, scientist, explorer. It enhances efforts to change one’s situation and outlook on relationships (aka become a better spouse) and eases fear and guilt. It is also a seventeenth wedding anniversary gift which I found ironic because on the show Valtor spent seventeen years in Omega before returning.

[8fmg8]

My True Pokemon Journey

My origin is found on Kanto, oh classic and nostalgic Kanto.

I was a little girl around 10 years old when I managed to start my first pokemon journey. I had grown up hearing about the amazing adventures of different trainers, and I decided to give this supposedly great experience a try.

Apparently my ambitions weren't that high even as a child with the whole world ahead of her.

After so many years, I must confess that I remember close to nothing remarkable about my trip through Kanto. I had a fairly regular ride, with not very pronounced highs and lows, and I felt comfortable with what I was doing.

And when this comfort that I had trapped myself in was interrupted by an obstacle known as Victory Road, I was unable to deal with it.

I was mediocre and simple-minded.

I got lost in the cave's walls and puzzles, and had no means or motivation to seek outside help.

I couldn't even make it to the Pokemon League.

So, I gave up. Not only with this adventure but with all Pokemon.

For a long time my feelings towards the concept were completely disinterested and spite.

And the only thing I just did for a while was hang out with the creatures I found walking down the street and I even picked up the hobby of training jumping Magikarps for a while, but even that I ended up giving up on for one inconvenience or another.

"It's not worth it, pokemon aren't that great after all."

But one day, the same call attracted me once again.

A content creator whose videos I faithfully watched mentioned that word that I had drifted so far away from: Pokemon.

My disdain for the subject had become non-existent as the years passed, and after doing some research, I set myself the goal of fulfilling my frustrated childhood dream: Conquer a Pokémon League, this time in the ever-popular Hoenn region!

Perhaps because it's a more recent experience, or because the time has made me more connected to my emotions, but my journey through the Hoenn region is what I consider my most real pokemon experience.

I felt a genuine connection with my teammates, everything I saw fascinated me and the battles I fought filled me with pride, I could finally appreciate the true Pokemon experience!

I was even able to overcome the obstacles I encountered, not wanting to repeat my mistakes.

I witnessed epic events that I will never forget. And finally, after working my nerves and intellect in such demanding matches, I managed to beat Wallace and crown myself as the champion of Hoenn.

"Yes, I did it! I'm a real trainer!"

In my travels, I even managed to capture the legendary Regis (with the guidense of some experts I may add).

"What should I do now?! Well, I've been invited to the Battle Frontier, I hear it's quite a challenge. Though I think I'll explore a bit first-"

I was challenged to a match deep inside Meteor Falls, against a man named Steven Stone.

I lost... miserably...

"B-but, but...it wasn't my actual team! Just a handful of Pokemon I'd decided to take on the scouting!"

Yeah, that must be it.

This stranger was strong but there's no way I'll lose if I use the team I won the League with-

I lost again.

I couldn't beat him even as the champion but, am I even the champion anymore if this guy beat me fair and square?

Maybe I should have trained, and come back stronger to claim my title back but…my pride gave was weaker than my fear.

Knowing that people of such caliber existed out there shook me deeply. I thought I had reached the peak of being a trainer but now, I couldn't even process how far behind I was.

I didn't dare to set a foot in that cave...or the Battle Frontier...or the region of Hoenn...ever again.

"They deserve a better champion than me."

I disappeared from the Pokemon world again, abandoning everything I had built in the coastal region.

After a while, I traveled to some other regions, but (for one reason or another) never won a League again or even made it to the Elite Four.

Until now, I still have doubts that it can.

And even if I could, I don't think I deserve it.

I'm not like other trainers; I don't have the skills nor the passion to go as far.

Maybe battling just isn't my thing, and maybe one day I'll find a window into an aspect of the wonderful Pokemon world that I can really connect with and give my %110 to.

But until then, I'll focus on other things.

And I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading the walkthrough of this mediocre Pokemon trainer.