#if it seems like i am vain. you are entirely correct.

[isat-script-project]

(whats your main)

@felikatze yo! i believe i also linked my main in the bio of this blog. you might know me for like, 3 isat essays. and also divorce.

[juliusxxxxxx]

How to start your own cult

*this is more or less a crack fic

*au where Scar is trying to use Grian’s watcher power to start a cult

*2000+ words

*probably not a one-shot

Knock knock.

No one’s answering.

Knock knock.

This time Scar banged on the door.

No one’s answering.

“Excuse me?” Said Xelqua. Their face was obscured under the shadow of their ominous purple robe, appearing as a pitch-black void. “What—are you doing?”

“What are WE doing!” Scar corrected the being, then reached forward to pull on their hood. “Take it off. You’re going to make ‘em scared.”

“No! How dare you—” Xelqua clasped tightly onto the inexplicable fabric. It felt cold to the touch and almost weightless in Scar’s hand. “There’s a sacred ritual that needs to be done before we can reveal our faces to mortals—you can't do it right after you just manifested me!”

“You’re here to fulfill my wish, right?”

“Yes…unfortunately! Stop it, mortal!”

But the deed had already been done. After the shadow was lifted, there was a face.

It's just a typical face, belonging to a person who appeared to be male, with blonde hair, black eyes, and some light freckles. Their eyes didn't seem to have pupils. Just black as ink.

“Oh…that’s what you look like.” Scar rested his hand. “I thought you were going to look way cooler. Like a cyclone or something.”

Xelqua rolled their eyes. Two eyes, how disappointing. Scar couldn't help himself but sighed.

“Now, can you tell me why we are here, mortal?” They surveyed the dreadfully dull middle-class neighborhood, under the bright midday sun. All nice houses, with neatly manicured front yards. “You dragged me here without even telling me what your wish was. It is extremely rude, in case you don't know it already.”

“My wish?” Scar puffed out his chest, wearing a bright smile on his face. “I want to start a cult.”

“…What?”

They looked at Scar with clear disgust on their normal-looking face.

“Yeah. Since I had a desire strong enough to summon a literal god, I did my research and…volià, here you are!”

He put his arm around the being's shoulders. There were many things he chose not to mention in the explanation he gave, including the graphic description of too many fresh eyeballs and organs that grossed him out. But it was all worth it in the end, right at the moment this Watcher emerged in the center of the wired rectangle he had made. It was drawn with blood, of course.

Xelqua gave him an unimpressed look.

“You seem to have some doubts,” Scar gave them a tight squeeze. “Alright, picture this: a bright, luxurious convention hall with thousands and thousands of people gathering. I am the super duper charismatic orator, preaching about fighting evil and injustice in the world with the power of true happiness. Someone shouted in the crowd, ‘Scar, how are you going to convince me, a stubborn moron who’s never been scammed in my entire life because I’m so lame and boring?’”

“And?”

“That’s when you come in, and strike ‘em with the power of thunder! Everyone trembles and kneels, offering me their life savings out of their pure, heartfelt faith.”

Xelqua stuck their tongue out.

“Alright, I’m leaving.” They brushed off his arm. “Have fun with your scam. I don't want to be a part of it.”

“No, Xelqua—but my wish!”

“I don't even want your soul anymore. It’s too…morbid for my liking.”

“Please! You haven't even heard of the amazing books I’ve been planning—”

Before he could finish his wailing, the door in front of them suddenly swung open.

“Uh…hello?”

A woman held the door, looking bewildered at the pair.

“Why, hello!”

Scar pulled the being back to the porch and put on his best expression, whether they liked it or not.

“We don't need anything—”

“No, no. We’re not salesmen. Far from them, actually.” He rummaged through his blazer and found a name card, which he handed to the housewife. He was fully prepared for this moment. He had been preparing this day for quite some time, and he was determined not to let it end in vain. “Here, take my card. The first one is for free.”

“Uh…Church of the True Happyness…of the Third Watcher?” She frowned, trying to read the wordy name. “Is this a new religion or something? Why is the ‘happiness’ spelled wrong? And why are there two ‘of’? ”

“I’m not with this lunatic—”

“Yes! A new religion. For true happiness. Just ignore my spelling mistake, please.”

Scar cut them off.

“The two ‘of’ thing is trendy. Just look around the other popular cul—churches, like the one started with an M.” He then reached both of his hands toward the housewife and shook with her eagerly. “Me and this—this—” He quickly lowered his voice and whispered to this extraterrestrial being, “what’s your pronouns?”

“I—I—he him?” The being stuttered.

“This handsome young man,” Scar patted on his back and declared, “are here to help.”

“Help?”

“Uh-huh. The lady who lives down the street mentioned that you have a faulty vacuum cleaner you got from your MLM just weeks ago. How unfortunate.”

“My MLM? Excuse you! What are you talking about? My business is legit—”

“Can I take a look at it?”

He pulled Xelqua toward the doorway and squeezed past the woman.

“This is private property! You can't just come in like this!” She frantically followed them into her own house. “Get out before I call the police!”

Scar began opening each closet in the house, ignoring her warning. It didn't take him long to find the broken house appliance in question, lying lifelessly in the dust.

“Here it is! You are a big beauty.” He pulled it out from the closet and wiped it clean haphazardly. “Xelqua?”

“Wha—you are out of your mind!” Xelqua turned towards the approaching woman and then turned back to face him. “We have to leave! I don't want to deal with your mortals’ cops—they’re notorious, even in my dimension!”

“Come on—” Scar nagged. “You’re here to fulfill my wish, right? Then consider this to be it. Fix this vacuum cleaner then consider we even.”

“…Are you serious right now?” Xelqua dropped his jaw. “You’re going to waste your one and only wish…on this?”

“I don't see any reason why not, since you’re going to leave me anyways.” He said with arms crossed. “Just do it for me.”

“And you’ll let me go?”

The being widened his pupil-less eyes. It was even more eerie than usual.

“Yeah. You are one vacuum cleaner away from freedom.”

“Get out of my house! This is the final warning!”

The woman yelled in fury, rightfully so.

“You came at the right time, ma’am.” Scar turned toward her, putting on his smile again. “We just fixed it. Can you plug it in for me?”

“…Heh?”

She halted.

“Try it out. If it doesn't work right away then we’ll leave immediately, am I right?” He gave the being a nudge.

“…Yes.”

Xelqua answered unwillingly.

The housewife knelt down to plug in the vacuum cleaner, grumbling about how absurd everything was. The moment it was turned on, a spark of purple light emitted from its indicator.

It worked.

“Phew—that was close.” Scar wiped the nonexistent sweat from his forehead. He should have just lost his soul a second ago, yet he didn't feel anything. Well, maybe he really was the chosen one who didn't have a soul to begin with.

“It…it worked?” She kept pressing different buttons on the vacuum cleaner, and they all certainly performed their functions. “How—how did you do that? My hubby can't do anything about it!”

“By the power of true happiness and the third Watcher, of course. By the way, the ‘happyness’ is actually spelled with an ‘y’, I just decided it. It’s better for trademark legalization anyway.”

Then, he grabbed Xelqua’s robe as the being tried to dematerialize and slip away from reality. A small part of his body had gone transparent already.

“What more do you want?” Xelqua protested, trying to get rid of him. “I’m leaving.”

“Give me a second,” Scar whispered to him and called the woman, still in awe, admiring her newly reborned cleaner. “Could you please help me with something? As a repayment for our service?”

“Uh…I really don't want to pay you. You seem like a scammer.”

“No—not money, yet.” He shook his head. He was rather frustrated that she would think so lowly of him, but he decided to let it pass. “Do you have the business card I just gave you?”

“…Yes?”

She began searching for it as she was instructed.

“There’s a line in the back. Can you read it out loud?”

She turned it around and started laughing immediately. “How am I supposed to read this? This is gibberish.”

“Well—I should know it beforehand…” Scar took a deep sigh and scratched his neck. Guess normal people without any knowledge would definitely not be able to read it, but he had no one to test it out for him yet. “Just repeat after me, then.”

He cleared his throat and started reciting.

“Mggoka ya orr'e.”

“Mgg…oka…ya orr’e.”

The being called Xelqua let out a short gasp as soon as the words left her mouth.

“What are you doing, mortal?”

“Ng ya bthnk.”

Scar ignored him but continued the chant.

“Ng ya b…thnk.”

She was trying her best to speak the obscure language that had been long lost in this mortal land. As each forbidden word was spoken, defying all laws of nature, the being trembled by the power of a divine offering.

“—Xelqua.”

“Xelqua…?”

Right after she finished the chant, the entire room was momentarily illuminated by a cold, purple glow. It happened so quickly, too quick for her to even realize it was emanating from herself.

“Thank you.”

Scar bowed to her, then walked decisively towards the doorway without looking back.

A few moments later, he heard another set of footsteps approaching him.

“How do you know these words?” The being known as Xelqua called as soon as they stepped out of the house.

“I did my research,” he simply said. “I know you’d follow me.”

“Of course I will…you are despicable.”

Xelqua uttered, catching up to him and walking alongside him.

“You sacrificed her soul to me for a…vacuum cleaner?”

“Yeah, I guess?”

Scar raised his shoulders.

“One more soul for you to chew on in the Void. I bet mine tastes awful so—I did you a favor?”

“I don't chew on souls! What do you think I am?”

“But that’s what all you want, am I right?”

Xelqua’s gaze locked on him for a while.

He couldn't read the emotions behind those eyes; it was as if he was staring into the Void itself. They reminded him of the legends he had learned from those ancient books about how the Watcher’s eyes can see through a person's very true self. A self. He often wondered if he even possessed one of his own.

But then, the Watcher laughed.

“What are you trying to do, mortal?”

Perhaps he actually had one after all.

“I want to start a cult!” Said Scar. “I said it from the very beginning. I'm true to my words—well, sometimes.”

“So that is your plan.” Xelqua shook his head. “I get some free souls so that you can start your dream cult.”

“You’re a smart god.” He reached out a hand toward the being. “How’s the deal?

“Sounds fine to me.” Xelqua shook it. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I know. Doing the world a favor.” Scar released the being’s hand immediately. “Man, I can't wait!”

He didn't appreciate the being's lack of body temperature. He preferred interacting with real humans, especially someone who is willing to accompany him to a vibrant and dramatic apocalypse. Hopefully, cats and trees will be part of the experience.

“I’m thinking—I’m thinking we should go to a college campus next. Those students are so young and impressionable…and stupid.” He started marching down the street in victory, while the being followed him close behind. “Everyone is so anxious about their futures and—whatever the kids are worrying about nowadays. It’s perfect! You can give them some good grades or the body type of an Instagram model—or drugs, I don't care, then they will be your good little lambs.”

“Why do you hate the mortals so much, then?” After listening to his rambling in silence, the being asked.

“I don't?” Scar stopped sharply, turning toward him. “I love humanity! They are so great. So bright. So wishful and always so creative. I love them. Oh, how can I ever hate them!”

“Then why are you doing this, willing to condemn their souls for all of eternity?”

“For the money, I guess.”

“You can simply wish for it,” Xelqua said, slightly confused. “Many mortals wished for money and I granted them more than their wildest dreams.”

“Nah. That’s boring.” Scar waved his hand dismissively. “I’ll be bored to death, and nothing is more scary than that.”

Xelqua looked at him with a tilted head.

“You’re funny.”

“No, tell me I'm charismatic.” Scar continued his walk. “I need to be a cult leader after all.”

[manari-archives]

how many things | LS18

I wonder how many things you think about before you get to me I wonder how many things you wanna do you think I'm in-between I feel myself falling further down your priorities And I still make excuses for you constantly

pairing: Lance Stroll x Reader

warnings: angst and alot more angst

word count: 1.4k

note: again this isn't based on the entire song, just a couple of lines mentioned. this took longer than expected to write and ive realised im not the best at writing depressing stuff which is ironic cause the entire eics album is mainly just sad songs. also english isn't my first language so any corrections feel free to let me know and any feedback is welcome :)

masterlist

Lance slept on the other side of the bed while you sat up reading your favourite book, a frown present on your face as you watched him. Over the last few weeks, he had abruptly become distant. Initially, you attributed it to a tough race but this strange and unusual behaviour persisted far too long. When you questioned his engineers and friends, they claimed everything was normal at work. However, you knew something had changed when he stopped doing the little things that made you fall in love with him in the first place, yet you waited for things to return to normalcy and for him to stop treating you like you were not even a second thought

The next morning, you woke up beside him and watched him sleep, realizing that the intimacy you once had faded. You no longer sat on the roof talking until the sun came up, he no longer held you close at night. You wondered the possible reasons for his sudden detachment, perhaps he felt you were too needy. You also considered the possibility that something had happened at work that he didn’t want to burden you.

Lance used to let you know when he was returning home after the race but he stopped doing that as well. You used to eagerly wait for him at the door, but those days had passed

In a vain attempt to salvage the relationship, you had put in extra effort to spend time with him, but he brushed it off, claiming he ate at work and showing no gratitude for your gestures. His cold demeanour and passive-aggressive remarks during everyday tasks made it difficult for you to express your feeling. The lack of appreciation and affection left you feeling neglected and unseen.

As time passed, you tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, making excuses for him constantly instead of confronting him directly. The emotional distance between you had grown, leaving you feeling unloved. You couldn't even remember the last time he said he loved you.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you confronted Lance about his distant behaviour. You expressed your frustrations, pointing out how patient and understanding you had been for months, yet he remained closed off and dismissive. 

You couldn't hold back your emotions any longer. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you faced Lance, feeling a mix of frustration, sadness, and love. His eyes welled up too, but he seemed to be struggling to find the right words.

"I can't do this anymore, Lance," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. "I've tried my best to be patient, to understand what you're going through, but you keep shutting me out. I feel like I'm living with a stranger, not the man I fell in love with.

Lance looked pained, his brow furrowed as he tried to respond, but you couldn't bear to make more excuses for him, it's become a habit at this point. You continued, your words gaining strength.

"When was the last time you told me you loved me?" you asked, your voice wavering. "It's been months, Lance. I deserve better than this."

As tears streamed down your cheeks, you couldn't help but wonder, "Am I not even a second thought in your mind?" The realization hit hard, and you felt yourself falling further down his priorities with each passing moment. 

You questioned, Your voice trembling with emotion, "How many things do you think about before you even get to me? It feels like I'm lost in the background of your thoughts." The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, reflecting the growing distance between you and Lance.

"I can't help but wonder how many things you want to do, and I feel like I'm just in between, an afterthought," you added, voicing the uncertainty and doubt that had been plaguing your mind. The sense of being unimportant and overshadowed in his life continued to haunt you.

Amidst the turmoil of emotions, you realised that his corner in your mind is well established, but you're starting to fear that you don't have a prominent place in his anymore. The contrast between your feelings of devotion and his apparent detachment became increasingly evident, leaving you with a sense of insecurity and sadness.

Despite your heartfelt plea, Lance remained resolute in his emotional distance. His eyes glistened with unshed tears, but he couldn't find the words to express what he was going through. You could sense that he was grappling with his demons, but his inability to share them left you feeling helpless and rejected.

"I can't do this anymore," you said, your voice trembling as you stepped back from him. "I love you, but I can't keep waiting for you to let me in. I need more than this."

Lance looked at you, his face a mix of pain and regret. "I'm sorry," he whispered, but it felt like an empty apology.

"I deserve more than this," you repeated, trying to steady your voice, but it cracked with emotion. "I deserve someone who will communicate with me, who will love me, who will let me be a part of their life. I can't be with someone who keeps shutting me out."

He reached out as if to touch you, but you flinched away, the hurt too fresh and raw. "Please," he pleaded, "give me more time. I'll figure this out."

But the well of patience had run dry, and you shook your head sadly. "I've given you enough time," you said, your heart breaking with every word. "I can't keep sacrificing my happiness for someone who won't let me in."

With that, you turned away, unable to bear the pain in his eyes. The weight of your decision settled heavily on your shoulders as you grabbed your belongings and left the apartment, the echoes of his apologies lingering in the air.

As you walked away, tears streamed down your cheeks, and you couldn't help but glance back one last time. But you knew deep down that you had made the right choice, as difficult as it was. You deserved to be with someone who would cherish and communicate with you, and staying with Lance would only prolong the heartache.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and the ache of loss remained, but Lance's silence remained. He never reached out, and you found yourself trying to pick up the pieces of your shattered heart. It hurt to think that the love you once shared had slipped through your fingers, lost in the abyss of his silence.

You tried to move on, to fill the void he left in your life, but the pain of losing him lingered. Every little thing reminding you of him, there was hiding from the thought of him and you got ways to find him in every corner. You cherished the memories of your time together, but they became bittersweet reminders of what once was.

And in the quiet moments, you couldn't help but wonder what went wrong, how the love that once burned so brightly had fizzled out into nothingness. You would find yourself looking back, wondering if Lance had ever found the strength to open up, to let someone in. But that chapter of your life had closed, leaving you with the poignant lesson that sometimes, love isn't enough to heal someone else's wounds. 

In the end, all that remained were the fragments of a shattered heart and the bittersweet memories of a love that had been lost. And as you gazed into the night sky, you wondered if time could ever truly heal the wounds it had caused, or if some scars were destined to linger forever.

[psychoticallytrans]

I'm going to preface this post with that this is a pretty niche intracommunity issue, but it's been bugging me a while.

The right to define yourself as a queer person includes not only the right to claim labels that feel correct, but the right to reject labels that don't fit. That's a huge part of the whole point. However, some people seem to feel like being queer just means that we've made some different identity boxes to sort people into, and that sorting yourself wrongly means you need correction.

I, personally, am a GNC man. I wear skirts because they're comfy and trap heat in winter and long hair because I'm extremely vain about my hair. Someone once spent the better part of three hours arguing that I need to "at least" identify as a nonbinary man. Which is... not how anything works? I've identified as nonbinary in the past, but eventually realized that just wasn't correct for me, and moved into identifying as a binary man. I strongly support nonbinary people, but I don't happen to be nonbinary in any way. More commonly, people will decide that I'm "fem" or "femme", which... also not really? Those are loaded community words and I don't happen to identify with them. I'm GNC. That's not the same thing.

I also see this happen a lot with sexuality. It's one thing to look at someone going "I'm straight but sometimes... I wonder..." and introduce them to the incredible variety of mspec identities to see if anything strikes a chord. It's entirely another for someone to go "I'm pansexual." and some dick to roll up and start telling them they're biphobic for not saying they're bisexual, or for someone saying "I'm bisexual, and I'm not attracted to women." to have people telling them that they're not really bisexual. "Two or more" does not necessarily have to include both binary genders, or either of them.

Deciding someone else's personal labels based on what you think they should identify as is just plain rude, and insisting on them after they've objected is even more rude. Don't do it.

[thetallowman]

No extra documents this chapter. (I was hoping to get all the details on the Trail, but that's probably being saved until it becomes relevant.)

Anyway, we're back with Verona, doing chores. She's mowing the grass - with a plug-in lawnmower? (Is that even a thing? Seems like you're just asking to run over the cord and fry the whole thing.) She's using her Sight, apparently unconcerned about what happened to Avery; I get the sense that she would be fine with one eye constantly Seeing.

She has to go back and forth over the grass, apparently? Is this just the worst lawnmower of all time? Because even a push-mower gets you better results than that. It's no wonder she's fantasizing about arson. And doing the thing where you estimate how much more you have to do, compared to what you've done, in the vain hope that the relatively small number will be encouraging.

We circle back to the app, and Verona's choices on it. She's curious about boys on some level, but uninterested in a relationship, viewing one as "More obligations, more people nagging at her about things she should be doing." She thinks the app did nothing but hurt people, which is objectively correct, and I am very happy to see someone in-story recognize that. (Still unclear if/how it's connected to the Choir, but it's whole gimmick sucks even if it's entirely mundane.)

Verona finishes the lawn, starts to experiment with the quill, and I continue to be impressed by her instincts here. She forms a theory, does some testing, avoids taking risks, and forms a backup plan for not getting caught in a lie. Really emphasizes the thing Lucy said about her, something along the lines of being "really good at things that don't seem like they should matter." (More specifically, I would guess that she's really good at things that actually interest her, and just halfway phoning it in the rest of the time.)

[dandelion-wings]

A very, very brief snippet this evening, spawning from @theabysscomeshome and I taking a couple fun screenshots:

and immediately spinning an AU off it, as we do.

---

"Why did you leave your post to bring her here? A yokai with a Vision is useful, but not that useful. Not on her own."

"I'm sorry, Moth- Father," Lyudochka says. She's of the previous generation, the agents whom Mother actually graduated and sent out, before she conceived of her battle royale. "Once I realized that Guuji Yae had seen through my cover, I knew I couldn't stay in place and risk being interrogated. Since I would already have to flee, it seemed wise to secure a resource for the House in the process, so that my assignment wasn't entirely in vain."

She looks terrified. It's the sort of fear that Arlecchino doesn't have the warmth or kindness to soothe with comforting gestures or words. All of the older generation are like this, except the ones ruthless enough to become teachers as they aged. The only way Arlecchino can correct their thinking is to demonstrate her own priorities--that preserving an agent's life for future use is better than dying uselessly at their post, when their death would serve no good purpose--through her actions and commands.

"The House of the Hearth will never turn away a child," she says, and waves a hand to dismiss Lyudochka. The girl flees. All the children who grew up under Mother are fearful, but Efim's students especially so; she'll have to look more closely into his methods.

Right now, though, she has other priorities. The girl was still unconscious from her wounds when Lyudochka smuggled her out of Inazuma, and Lyudochka had drugged her for the duration of her transport here, as is protocol for potentially combative foreign recruits. According to the doctors' report, she woke up lucid for the first time this morning. They've already told her that it was the House that rescued her from where she lie wounded, and found that her memories immediately after the fall were incoherent enough that she seems willing to believe that claim.

A child who feels abandoned by fate will take any home offered to them, whether or not it's truly a kind one. Arlecchino heads to the infirmary.

The child is, indeed, awake when she arrives, clear-eyed and appropriately tense. Arlecchino has replaced Dottore's minions with children who are most suited to this work, and their own faith in the House helps them keep new children like this one from panicking. Healthy caution, though, is an excellent trait, and Arlecchino is glad that this one wasn't so easily lulled out of it.

"Welcome to the House of the Hearth," she tells the child, looking her over. The wings would be useful on their own; pair them with a Vision, and she already has significant potential, though it will take time to discover all her strengths. "What should we call you?"

The girl raises her chin high, boldly meeting Arlecchino's eyes. "My name is Sara. What is yours?"

"I am The Knave, Arlecchino, Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers. But I do hope that you will come to call me 'Father.'"

[exalted-dawn-drabbles]

AND another one this fine DADWC evening - For Saeris/Talenna: "protecting you isn’t my duty. it’s my privilege."

So at first I was going to do something angsty for this but before I knew it, words were pouring out onto the page and it went in a direction entirely its own. And????? I kinda love them???? They're so cute???? Emerald Knight AU Talaeris has BotW Zelink vibes and im not at all mad about that. And now I need more of them. So thanks for that XD for @dadrunkwriting

Rated T: mild mention of nudity, and a bit of frisky flirting, 1.1k words

Privilege | By Exalted_Dawn

“Do you not grow tired of this?” 

The question felt almost small beneath the great verdant bows overhead. The sound of wind pushing through a million leaves was as consuming as the roar of the ocean. The creaking of the forest’s great oaken skeleton felt more than that of her own bones. It was a small question, asked casually as she washed herself in a docile stream, the water flowing about her hips in tickling currents. But for them, she supposed it might be rather large, as it was the first time she had spoken to him since the day after he’d been assigned to her little more than a fortnight ago. 

The silence that followed was certainly weighty. She could feel the stem of breath that marked surprise rather than purposeful ignorance. The way his attention seemed to weigh on her bare shoulders as he considered it. Considered her.

“No. I am here to protect you,” he said simply. Proudly, almost, though Talenna suspected it was likely some sort of veneer put on for her benefit. Either that or a self-made delusion so that he might stomach this otherwise debasing task. 

“Your duty is to the protection of the Dales,” she corrected, pausing briefly to dip beneath the clear water’s surface before breaking into the air once more. Water sluiced down her now soaked hair, making it cling to the planes of her back like riverweed. She shook it loose, flexing her shoulders to rid herself of the sensation. “Following around some unknown dignitary will hardly win you the honor and glory due to one of your station.”

There was another silence, but this time it was briefer. “You are granddaughter and only heir to Counselor Ethera, and Ambassador to Orzammar. Your safety is paramount to their allegiance and continued lyrium supply. You are third in line for the title of ‘Sovereign-” 

“Thank you for reciting my own rank and role to me,” she scoffed. “As though I was in need of a reminder.” 

Talenna expected that to be the end to their brief cease-silence, perhaps earning her at least a few more days of satisfaction before the looming shadow of his presence once again became too much to bear, but to her surprise, he continued. “To protect you is to protect the Dales. Ir abelas, if my being here offends your privacy, but your life is worth preserving.” 

She knew of what he spoke even though he did not say it. The event that put this ridiculous call for chaperoning into motion in the first place. 

Talenna ran her finger along her neck, where the clean-cut line of a blade wound now pinked her skin. So much fuss over a scratch. 

“Do you claim my life to be of higher worth than the farmers who work the fields, or the servants that clean the sheets? Do they not also warrant your protection?” she wondered aloud, her annoyance sharper now. “A knight of your caliber could protect us all equally fighting on the war front. Instead, you are deigned little more than a glorified child-herder. If I were you, I would be embarrassed.” 

There was another pause, and Talenna thought that surely this would be the end of their conversation, but it would seem today that her shadow was feeling particularly talkative. 

“If you intend to run me off as you have the last two guards, I am afraid your efforts will be in vain. It is my honor to be here, and I would appreciate it if you stop insulting me by insinuating otherwise.” The words were spoken with a certain edge. A bite that betrayed his offense. He was serious…? 

“‘An honor’?” she echoed, almost mockingly, but mostly bitter. “I do not see how.”

“I am not claiming that your life is of higher worth than any other, but even so, it still warrants protection. It is you who allows our mages, such as my siblings, to be strong enough to face the shemlen Templars. It is you, who preserves our history and helps advise our current Sovereign towards peace.”

She cut in. “It is my grandfather who-” He did not stop.

“While it is true that by fighting in the war, I can protect the Dales, I must do so by taking lives.” She could almost hear him shift, a rustle in the grass behind her. She wondered if she had gotten him so riled that he had turned his eyes on her at last, but she did not give in to the temptation of finding out. Her eyes stayed forward and down, watching as the water rippled with sunlight, white light winking on waves. He pressed on. “Perhaps you resent my being here, but to me, protecting you is not a duty. It is a privilege. Instead of taking lives, I get to preserve them. And in guarding you, I guard the future of the People. To me, that is no small thing.”

In the wake of her shock, Talenna considered that that was perhaps the most words she had ever heard the knight– no, Saeris– speak. But in expending so many, it would seem he stole her own, and she sat silent, unable to rebuke or mock him for such a stance. 

He was right. It was honorable. And deserved better than the scorn her annoyance reflected. 

But Talenna was proud, and let her own kept stretch of speechlessness be his victory in this. She huffed softly, but even as she rebuked him, it lacked the distinctive edge of anger, more prodding than anything. “Do not act so noble. You are simply glad for the opportunity to watch me bathe.” 

There was hardly a beat of silence. “...As I said, a privilege.”

Talenna spun so sharply around that she nearly slipped on the river rocks, spurred by the notes of warmth– of actual teasing– that lingered in the wake of such a statement. She stared blankly at him, but if he had turned to look, he was back to facing away from her now, his hands folded behind him and his shoulders straight. 

Talenna was baffled. Had Saeris just joked with her.

Almost belatedly, she gave a bemused scoff, turning back around. Dipping just a bit deeper into the water, a giddy sort of grin tipped her lips. Saeris, Sullen Sword of the Dales, had a sense of humor. Who knew? 

She turned back to look at him again, a new appreciation lighting her eyes, but he remained stalwart, not turning even a fraction of an inch towards her. It made it hard to tell, as she couldn’t see his face, but even with the roar of the canopy, Talenna could have sworn she heard it. The smallest of laughs. And she hoped, maybe, he was smiling too.

[spumonibones]

Chasing Wings: Ch. 02 Lore/Story

Chapter Two (Ao3) | Chapter Two (Tumblr)

Chapter One (Ao3) | Chapter One (Tumblr)

Lore+Notes under cut!

As always, if you have any lore that indicates otherwise, please let me know! Though this is canon divergent, I do want to stay as compliant with the world much as possible. Additionally, I just love learning new lore! Or even if you have a fun fact you want to share!!

STORY:

• You may be wondering, "Why is Zhongli around so soon, and why is Rex Lapis already gone? Did the Osial events already happen?"

→I needed Rex Machina (pun, sorry), so he's there now. No, Osial events haven't happened. Haven't decided the method in which he announces his "depature," but once decided will likely incorporate that into the story itself. I want to try to write a special "after story summary," of the changes in what happens for when the Traveler comes in.

LORE: • Liyue VS Mondstadt Poetry. The Poetry event established this; in addition to making sense given the places each area is inspired by/based on.

STORY: • Millelith carrying people - that is made up. But I have faith Zhongli could convince them to do it. I have been trying to find the specific cut scene he convinces a man to give you something for free, but I don't remember what the item name was, which NPC it was, or which event it was!! But I did find a cut scene for a different note, so my struggle wasn't entirely in vain.

LORE: • "Osmanthus Wine." Ah yes. The iconic Zhongli line. I had to. But also... According to Wikipedia, Osmanthus wine is "the traditional choice" for a reunion wine during the Moon Festival. I have never been to one, that involves leaving my room and talking to people. And also money to go somewhere (of which doesn't exist). So I'm trusting wiki on this. If you have more accurate info, please let me know and I will correct it.

STORY: • In this chapter, especially, there's a little voice that keeps talking to Venti regarding Zhongli that helps him be more "him." That isn't important now, but it will be later. Call it foreshadowing.

STORY/LORE: • Venti doesn't remember what Visions or Archons are, and I am not subjecting you, the reader, to a reminder. So I tried to have that explained "off screen" so to speak, and focus on the changes I made so that you're caught up with the differences.

STORY/LORE: • Morax and Barbatos' relations - do they get along? In spite of what their voicelines would lead you to believe, these two are definitely friends! Lantern Rite 3.4 more or less sealed that they have the sort of friendship that involves teasing each other, but they both still have a deep respect for their individual talents and skills. They both also cling to their lost friends/family, as you can see in individual character stories and very naturally are quite attached. To me at least, it makes sense that if Morax thought Barbatos had died, he would mourn his friend. Same thing for Barbatos. →Additionally, in version 2.5 the event "Of Drink A-Dreaming," Zhongli goes to Monstadt, visits Angel's Share and orders a drink. The following Lantern Rite (version 3.4) (you can watch the whole thing, but thought this was a good starting place!) has Venti visiting. I would absolutely NOT put it past Zhongli to invite Venti, and then actively ignore him just to see what he does. Venti seeking out Xiao seems unrelated, and to be Venti just genuinely seeking out and wanting to help Xiao. Or, if you're like-minded (and you would only be here if you are), Zhongli invited Venti to visit during Lantern Rite and avoided him solely to try and get Venti and Xiao together. Zhongli geniunely wants what's best for Xiao, and I think we all agree that Venti falls in that category. 10/10. →(Fun fact! Qiaoying Village is mentioned by Zhongli in the 2.5 event, and was not released until 4.4!)

LORE: • “Anyone in Liyue would do what they could to support our adepti, and those that have saved them." Given that even the Treasure Hoarders would rather stop what they're doing than cross an adeptus, I feel pretty confident this is canon compliant.

Chapter 02 Song/Lyrics: "Drinks Bring Back Memories" Memories by Maroon 5 Had to look up songs about friendship, and this one was PRACTICALLY PERFECT minus the line about "carrying torches." That is typically implying romantic emotions, and the relationship between Zhongli and Venti (Morax and Barbatos) is purely platonic in this story. If you, the reader, wish to interpret it differently for your own joy, I shan't stop you.

[freakshowfallacy]

i should be worshiped (college student interview)

TAPE DURATION: 19:51   BEGIN OF INTERVIEW: 0:00   TAPE RESUMED AT: 12:43  

I should be worshiped.

Not as another idiot with more money than you, not as an "influencer" or a "trendsetter" who gets big numbers online, and by no means as a talented peer that you look up to. 

I should be worshiped like the Divine. I should be worshiped not as a human you think deserves special attention, but as a being on another plane of existence from you. 

I should be desired for my ethereal beauty and I should be envied for my magnificence.

You should want to die for me.

Do you really think you deserve that?

Of course I do. I understand that you might not be intelligent enough to comprehend it, but more so I know I deserve that.

I stand high, high above humanity, and you all look so pitiful from up here. 

You cry over things that need not be cried over, while you refuse to let yourself cry when the situation does call for it.

You anger each other and harm one another in spite of your constant claims that what you would prefer is peace and happiness. 

If you were just a little smarter, you would find such things easy to attain. It really is pitiful. 

The ignorance of humanity is greater than any sin they could have made up when constructing their strangely vain stories of a higher being who actually cares for them-

Are you saying God is a man-made concept?

Of course your god is self-imposed. This is another example of pitiful human behaviors. You have already made up someone to worship, written rules that only serve to further upset yourselves, and act as if he was the one who relayed them to you.

Your species has been equipped with brains that can only thrive off of pleasure, and yet you have worked so hard to ingrain into yourselves that anything pleasurable is a "sin" and therefore "evil" which is punishable.

You all let yourselves be dominated by fear. I am above this.

Do you believe- Do you know if this fear is fatal?

It is. The downfall of this race will have no wholly correct attribution besides itself. 

If there is no God, who is in charge?

Nobody is in charge. As much of it as they have inflicted entirely on themselves, humans do not like fear. They have tried to convince themselves that there is order to this existence, because order leads to predictability, and, more than anything, humanity lives in fear of the unknown.

Again, I live above all of this. I look down upon the human race with unpleasant disgust.

What happened to pity?

I said you were pitiful. Not that I would pity you. A lesser being, perhaps, would lack enough awareness to pity you.

Why should humanity acknowledge your divinity? What can you promise in return?

I will promise nothing. To answer your question, there is a degree of enlightenment you seem to lack that I could offer, but I will promise nothing. 

I understand that the made up higher being had a made up promise of "protection" or perhaps "salvation", but no one should need to be promised something in order to be helplessly enamored by my grace.

I should be recognized easily for where I sit far, far away from the rest of this mess. You should fall in love with my image. You should become obsessed with me. You should fall in love with the idea of me. You should become obsessed with appeasing me.

The truth is, I don't need to promise anything for humans to think they can still get something out of serving me. That is humanity's true "sin". Blind ignorance. What have been labeled the "Cardinal Sins" were close. But all of those stem from blind ignorance. 

You are beyond saving. You will never wake up. You will forever chase pleasure, but you will never reach it and only fall further and faster as you run.

I should be fawned over and idolized not for these words, but for the undeniable truth:

I stand above humanity.

I could be saying anything right now, I could start lying to you, I could pretend to be one of you, but it would still hold true.

I should be worshiped.

END OF TAPE

[semischarmed]

Inside

“Let me ask again- the FUCK do you think you’re doing!?”

I tremble in fear and stare in silence at the massive man in front of me, rank with the sweat of his daily session.

In my hands lay his used gym clothes, inches from my nose. My eyes widen. He was supposed to be showering. My eyes are drawn to the bar of soap among the pile in front of me. Shit. 

Fear becomes arousal when he leans down to my ear, tantalizingly close, and whispers. “If you wanted me inside you so bad, all you had to fucking do was assssk”. He draws that last word out with his teeth, lacing it with venom and seduction.

“Cmon, fucking say it faggot. Say you want me inside you” he taunts.

Ashamed. Terrified. Spellbound. He had reduced me to my most minuscule self. I reply meekly to answer him. “...I want you inside me.”

I hear the corners of his face widen into an unsettling smirk. “Good Answer”.

In the blink of an eye, he vanishes from in front of me, rushing past my side to my back before I can even react. Oh shit this is really happening. I am prepared for the night of my life. “Strip.” I comply.  I hear him make some movements and then... then... silence.

“What the hell?” I chuckle nervously as I look behind me in confusion and see his naked form crouching in a low squat with his hands clasped in a praying motion. I admire his massive sweaty muscles. He catches my gaze, looking up and giving me wink. I smile back awkwardly. “So-“

I am cut off by searing, unimaginable pain from the motion of him piercing my ass with his hands as he lunges toward me. Pound after pound of his thick arms shove up my asshole with so much force, he pushes me forward several feet. I stay still, breathing heavy for a few moments- not daring to look back- not daring to move an inch out of our precarious position. My mind races. “Shit. Shit. Shit. What was that!? God, was he ok?”

I finally muster the courage to look behind in horror. I could only see his shoulders. Shit. How is this even possible? God. Shit. I couldn’t see his head…he was probably dead- and judging by how far he pushed into me, I probably would be soon too. I whimper, tears streaming down my face, as recount my life and start fumbling for my phone. I felt sick to my stomach. How could this go so wrong? Every fucking time something good happens. Well… at least if I’m going out, I’m- My stomach churns. Wait. That... wasn’t my stomach. 

Impossibly, I felt worms squiggle inside me- no they weren’t worms. I dial in on the sensation. They were fingers. His Fingers. He was moving his fingers. I feel them claw at my throat from the inside. My mouth opens uncontrollably as his digging hands choke me from the inside, scrambling for a grip. I reach up trying in vain to get him to stop. Shit Shit Shit. As my consciousness begins to dip, the hands have finally found a patch of my flesh around my shoulder. I pant in momentary relief.

With each patch of my flesh they touch, I feel our nerves intertwine, tangling into each other until I myself could feel his fingers as a supplement to my own. What the hell was going on? Then, I feel him wrap his arms around more of my flesh and bundle more of our nerves together. Whatever this was, whatever he was doing, it was intentional.

He uses his arms as leverage and pulls the rest of his sweat-slick body inside, almost forcing my own to the ground. I fill up. Near-bursting. Impossibly full. As I stagger to stand, I watch from the mirror as he shimmies more and more of himself into me. I retch unprompted, dry heaving at what was occurring before my very eyes, but the motion only seemed to suck in his fleshy mass further inside me. Still, I couldn’t help but begin to get hard. Him being in here was hot as hell.  

I take shorter and shorter breaths, which again only slides more and more of him inside me, until the very last parts of him- his grimy toes- get slurped up in my asshole. My body wants to collapse from the strain of having to stretch to accommodate both our forms. Instead, I watch as his body is imprinted in my skin -near my stomach and chest, pulling me impossibly tight while he cemented himself in a fetal position. My legs begin to buckle from the pressure. 

Before I fall, he stretches out his legs out inside my skin, stacking his over my own. They are sticky when they slide over my bones and musculature, likely from the sweat he was aiming to wash off with his shower. As he fills into my skin, my toes are lifted off the ground as my body rises to accommodate his far-larger form. My very own body betrays its owner, as it is drawn to his legs over my own and he hastens the process by corralling my skin to realign to match his legs instead. I can only watch and feel in silence as I feel the skin covering my toes detach from myself and overlap over his. I feel pricks as our nerves entangle together. His legs then digests mine, inflating themselves from my added mass. My skin constricts in turn around his legs, crushing them from all sides. From the depths of my body, a moan in his voice escapes my still-hanging mouth. Skin constricts even tighter and I wince in anticipation from the pain. Instead, I am met with pleasure as nerves fire and I reconnect to my new legs. Oh my god. This was everything… I’ve never been this tall nor my legs this muscular. 

I wait in anticipation of his next move. His arms unfurl from their place, and I watch them slip over my shoulders. I look hungrily at my soon-to-be biceps. Yummy. This time, I put no resistance, as readily I allow his pythons to coil around my two stick-appendages. I give these arms of mine to him willingly, which he happily assimilates. Then, a massive tension in the skin of my arms, as they are forced to spread out, rocketed outwards from the mass of his flesh filling into them. By all accounts, it was uncomfortable, but knowing what was soon to come had overwritten any fear, any doubt, any discomfort I could ever have with lust. My arms were never buff, so watching him rearrange his arms to become mine makes me go lightheaded with an abundance of elation and desire. As his nerves join with mine, and I finally feel the strength inherent in my new arms, my head leans back from the sheer sensation of our parts being one. He flexes our new arm together, before caressing it over the imprint of his body still in my chest and stomach. This was a dream come true. Still… more to come.

I watch expectantly as the large mass of his head begins to travel up my neck. I prepare to accept my new self. I could want nothing more than to live as this god of a man as his new flesh. Before his head can reach me, however, I watch as the remainder of his body fill into mine, including that perky ass. My arms are helpless to my whim as he commands them himself. He smears my skin around the outline of his body, slotting his abs over my flat stomach, tracing their indents as they fill over, and giving me the exact very same six-pack I had always fantasized over. He pinches my nipples- holy shit- stretching them forward, before releasing. They rebound back, slotting into their rightfully place- right over his. They’re rock hard. 

When the bare outline of his forehead head begins to peek over my neck, I feel him flex our entire body. He tenses our entire form, forcing my skin to compress even tighter around him. He continues until I feel a pop in myself. I look down and see the results. I see his wavy hairs pierce and poke through my skin. The scene was bizarre. He was literally wearing me. Though it was my normally supple skin, it was dotted by the roughness of his hairs. When our pores align, I finally release some excess heat. The scent was immaculate. I sweated his sweat, emanated his scent. By all accounts, I am his body. There would be no turning back. In the continuing process, I feel his organs and blood rush into mine. He was I and I was him. We now shared the same insides. With his blood rushing through us, I felt invigorated. Fuck. God. This was what he felt like every fucking day. I happily invite his wellspring of strength and energy as my own. This is what I am going to be feeling like every day from now on. We could do a million pushups right now without breaking a sweat. With him driving me, we would be unstoppable. My trance is broken when I noticed my dick in disappointment, unchanged from the whole process.  

I licked my lips as his head finally slotted over mine. I screamed from the pain of my face being stretched out to accommodate both of ours. He had far better control of us and instead contorted my outer face into a crooked smile. He began panting and moaning as the force of my skin stuck our heads closer and closer together. At long last, I feel sweet release when some arbitrary barrier inside me breaks and a spark lights in me as his head accelerates and smashes into mine. I welcome him inside with open ‘arms’. ‘I want you inside me.’ 

He complies, greedily overlaying his very being into me. In all my memory, in all my thoughts, feelings, perversions, there he was and there he would be. I yield them all willingly, allowing him to become me, to transcend me. Our shared eyes close from the wealth of new identity he has captured as he and I become one. We would have each other in a way no one else ever could. It was beyond intimacy. With his tongue inside mine, he sticks it out of my face with a sneer. It’s a face I never made, but with our new selves, this just felt right. He guides them over my teeth. My jaw redefines itself on his terms, nose corrects itself to his shape. Altogether, he was wearing me as his own, comfortably taking and rearranging me to be a better vessel for him. Fuck did it feel good to be his outer shell. I think we both looked better like this- greater than the sum of our parts.

Dirty, lewd thoughts mix with my own as his personality bleeds into mine. I reflexively try to shake it off, but he is relentless. In his barrage of self into me, tears well in my face. Still… he continues to inject more and more of his self into me. And then... I finally let go. This felt good. Being his. Who’s to say if it was my thoughts on their own or our combined derangement, but the thought of him forever using me, forever being me? Sheer Fucking Ecstasy. This felt great. He subjugates my sense of self to forever be a part of him but I offer it willingly. Becoming me probably shaved a few years off him. Like my skin, He stretches my personality around his, further and further until we congeal into one. Goddamn. Fuck Yeah. This is fucking great. We lick our lips.

I feel a rush of confidence. The new me is brimming with it. We are alpha. My mouth and body move in a way that was alien to myself. He stands up straighter and cracks our neck, getting comfortable in our new form. We take our first real breath together as a new person, taking in more air than my old lungs had been used to. Amazing.

Then, his hormones rush through our body. Fuck. I feel an outpouring of raw, sexual energy. Our body steams up in the heat- look at me, who wouldn’t- and, before I could react further, he starts pumping my dick in manic glee. Fuck. As it stiffens, I hit my old body’s limit. Average. Our grin widens by his command. “Time for an upgrade, baby” I say with a jock-like inflection in my voice. It sounds immediately comfortable, self-assured, and it rolls off my new tongue naturally. It feels wholly unnatural. He speaks in a lower register than I normally do. Still I yield to him, trusting in my new owner and allowing his parts to coalesce into my vocal chords. A disturbing itch runs through my throat as our voices meld together but I know it’s for the best. This newer, hotter me needs a newer, hotter voice. We take a deep breath before roaring “FUUUUUCK YEAH! Muuuuch better!” in a voice that resembled a harmonius mix both of ours. 

The itch courses through the rest of my body as I allow him to fully wear the rest of me. He brings my head to face the new me in the mirror for a closeup giving another wink. Beautiful. I watch as my eyes water uncontrollably. His amber eyes then eclipse mine, and we blink away the tears. In my head, I feel his thick, wavy hair push out beside my own, as my old hair merge into his. In its place, we now wear a crown of his hair signifying my new place as royalty. He drags my now-vascular hand across our chin, pulling slightly while a bit of scruff grows where bare skin used to be. He quickly nods our new head in approval as more of my features contort to accommodate their new owner. Yeah. We were fucking hot.

Then, I feel his thick dick slot into mine, filling it out. Jesus fucking christ it was so big. It stretches me further and further, until I am hit by another wave of paralysis, until my skin snaps back into his, constricting weapon and sheath together. The sheer pressure merges them into one. Goddamn we were huge. Our shared tongue hangs from our open mouth, as we release a massive wave of cum. It rockets everywhere, covering me in my new, alpha seed. We sample a taste of our shared genetics. Fucking delicious. 

God we were so hot together. The feeling is surreal. There was nothing like it in the world. I was forever his. I am wrack in permanent pleasure from being us. He walks over to his old pile of clothes, putting them on. As they brush over my new body, I am flush with a sense of completeness. A perfect match.

---End---

Ok, Ok, so not as ‘light’ as I would have expected. I was gonna make something cute for Valentines day, but got sidetracked by... I mean... look at him.

[btsmosphere]

Lost in a Book | JHS

~summary: you and Jung Hoseok don’t exactly see eye to eye. but when you (literally) fall headfirst into a whole other world, that becomes the least of your worries ~pairing: hoseok x reader ~word count: 8.5k ~enemies to lovers, college au, fantasy au ~rating: g ~warnings: naughty freudian slip, sexual tension, arguing, fire

~a/n: this is my gift for the wonderful @moccahobi‘s birthday! I am so lucky to be friends with someone as funny, hard working and gorgeous as you and I hope you have a great day!! and no, of course I didn’t choose the biggest bingo square only to forget and write this in a week.. (okay, I did, so pls go easy on any errors!) as always the lovely admins at @thebtswritersclub came up with a fun challenge to prompt this story, so I will be including my makeup palette bingo square at the end so you can see what prompts I used for this! enjoy x

The moment you had seen Jung Hoseok coming through the door, your eyes rolled.

Almost entirely made of large windows, the front of the coffee shop you worked in allowed you to see all the passers-by. So when you spotted your classmate coming down the street, laughing loudly with a couple of friends, you had prayed that he would just pass by.

Of course, you could never get what you wished for.

“Yoongi-“ you tried in vain to capture your friend’s attention, but too late. Yoongi hadn’t even looked around from where he was scrubbing coffee cups when a familiar voice reached your ears, making you groan internally.

“Y/N! Hard day at work? You look frazzled.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” you drawled, resigning yourself to serving him.

He simply leaned on the counter, sagging with laughter.

“Always service with a smile with you, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure you’d be just as tired if you even tried to focus in class,” you fired back.

His grin didn’t even falter. But at last, he dropped his teasing. With a scoff he ordered a tea and turned around, scrolling on his phone with his back to you as you got to work.

It seemed you had grabbed Yoongi’s attention after all, judging by the poorly-hidden snort from the washing up area.

Scowling, you chucked together a cup of tea distractedly, only too relieved when you pushed it over the counter to be rid of Hoseok. So when he sipped it only to wince in disgust, your heart sank.

“Jesus, where’s the caffeine? This is so weak.”

Your desire to argue back lost its short-lived wrestle with your customer service training, and you were reluctantly offering to make a new one. This time, you forced yourself to pay more attention. You knew that way, you could actually get rid of the nuisance on the other side of the counter.

“You see Y/N, the bag goes in the water,” Hoseok remarked, leaning over to see what you were doing.

Shooting the most passionate glare you could muster had the undesirable effect of sending him into peals of laughter.

Eventually, after making a point to leave the teabag in for much longer – at least until you noticed his fingers begin to tap on the countertop – you passed over his second cup with a sarcastic smile. His mood didn’t seem to have dampened that much, but he left without a fuss.

“You have great chemistry.”

The dry remark from behind you had you whirling around to glare at Yoongi instead. He stood in front of his stack of clean washing, observing you with a smirk.

“I don’t think Jung Hoseok knows what chemistry is,” you grumbled.

But as you set to work, a little aggressively, on scrubbing the counter, you never would have guessed how right you were. Or that it would soon become your responsibility.

“So when we sleep, what part of the brain transfers memory from white to grey matter?”

“…what’s grey matter again?”

“I think you could do with some more of it,” you muttered in lieu of an answer.

Hoseok lifted his head from his arms just enough to fix you with reproachful puppy eyes. Sighing, you tugged the textbook back across the table towards you, flipping a few pages back and jabbing your finger at the relevant passage.

Raising an eyebrow, he read it for the second time today with a growing frown.

“Long term…” he said at length.

“Long term memory!” you groaned, dropping your forehead against the heel of your hands.

Behind you, you knew Jungkook and Yoongi were watching this unfold with amusement. You weren’t sure you could take much more of this.

If you had envisaged this when you had signed up for your college’s mentor program, well, you may have changed your mind.

At last, the hour dragged by. Apparently Hoseok wanted to be there as little as you, collecting the books and leaving very quickly once you were done. Though your shift was over, you were sure you might explode if you didn’t get to rant about the guy right now.

Huffing, you marched over to the counter.

“He’s such a jerk!” you threw your hands out, “his ego’s so big, it’s like he thinks he’s too good to even try! And now it’s up to me to make sure he isn’t so behind, but there is so much to do!”

Your coworkers weren’t helping. Both had given up suppressing their laughter, openly enjoying your pain.

“You guys are no help,” you grumbled, folding your arms.

“Just be patient,” Jungkook offered, “it might get better in time.”

“Patience is not something Jung Hoseok inspires,” you retorted, “and I’m being good enough as it is! I even had the generosity to lend him my textbook!”

“You’re a saint,” Yoongi chuckled.

A withering glare later, you slung your bag over your shoulder and bid your friends a tired goodbye.

Much as you hated to admit it, there may have been some truth in what Jungkook told you. Patience did seem to be the key after all. A lot of patience.

A few more meetings had passed, and Hoseok remembered a lot more now. You weren’t sure whether it was due to the quality of your teaching or just a desire to avoid your constant scolding, but it didn’t matter too much. The result was what counted.

You were to meet again today. As always, he came as your shift finished so that you could work in the café.

“You like him really.”

Jungkook’s voice tore your eyes away from the clock you had been watching.

“I’m sorry?”

“You like him,” he repeated, “I’ve never seen you so impatient to get off work.”

“What? I’m not,” you scoffed, “it’s just-“

The little jingling bell above the door interrupted you. Never finishing your thought, you left Jungkook to meet Hoseok at the counter.

“Tea?” you asked him.

“Not if you’re making it,” he quipped, eyes already skimming the menu on the wall behind you.

You scoffed with a roll of your eyes, but said no more. Hoseok’s teasing eyes returned to you as he said,

“Think you can manage a hot chocolate?”

“Of course I can make hot cock-“ your eyes widened at your momentary slip “-chocolate. I can make hot chocolate-“

But for all your correcting and muttering, there was no hiding your embarrassing moment from Hoseok, whose eyes lit up with surprise before laughter spilled out of him in reams.

“I didn’t mean to make you so flustered, Y/N!” he cackled.

Biting your tongue, you hid your burning face from him as he half-collapsed against the counter with the force of his laughter. You angrily set to work on the drink, milk sloshing in the jug as you thrust it under the machine.

“With whipped scream on top too, huh?”

Hoseok’s incessant mocking didn’t stop until you had handed him the drink. If anything could prove to Jungkook just how wrong he was, this should do it. Still, you didn’t dare to turn around and see what your friend made of the situation.

Mixing the powder into the hot milk forcefully, you glared down at the cup.

Damn Jung Hoseok! He couldn’t be any more infuriating if he tried. It wasn’t your fault he was so annoying it made it hard for you to think straight. No one else managed to rile you up so much as him.

You gave him the drink with a side of deathly glare. It only served to amuse him more.

Safe to say you were dreading the next hour.

Clocking off soon after, you hung up your apron regretfully and headed across to your usual table. Thankfully Hoseok was a bit more subdued now.

Unfortunately, you were about to find out why.

“So, Y/N,” he started as you were sitting down.

This brought your attention to him straight away. Your eyes narrowed as he toyed with his mug on the table, avoiding your eyes.

“So, uh, that textbook you lent me-“

You had a bad feeling already. Looking around, you didn’t notice it on the usual pile of books.

“Where is it?” you cut him off.

At last he raised his head to meet your eyes, and you didn’t like what you saw.

“It’s not like we need it that badly anyway,” he began, though you weren’t sure you had ever heard him sound so hesitant, “we finished most of the stuff in there anyway…”

“You lost it, didn’t you?”

“Well, yeah. And I think I also spilled some-“

Not waiting for him to finish, you exclaimed your frustration.

“I can’t believe you! Just because you don’t see a use for ever picking up a book, I need that! I don’t have that kind of money spare either…”

As you raked a hand through your hair, Hoseok decided now was the time to be helpful.

“Gosh, I was afraid you would do this. We have a library for a reason, you know?”

Stopping your train of thought abruptly, you lowered your hand to glower at him.

“And now you’re going to make me go in the library? Ugh, you really have it out for me.”

Incredulous laughter followed. Hoseok leaned back in his chair, observing you with raised eyebrows.

“You’re telling me you believe in those stupid rumours?”

Shifting uncomfortably, you shrugged.

“Well, you’ve got to admit the place is creepy, right? And my flatmate said she knew that girl Cindy-“

As you spoke, Hoseok’s laughing grew louder, steadily filling the café until you were forced to stop.

“What?” you hissed.

“We’ve all heard about “Cindy”,” he made quotation marks in the air, “but that’s just a story! The older students made it up to scare newbies – and it would seem it worked. But everyone knows the scariest thing in the library is just the course reading.”

Biting your tongue, you didn’t muster up a response. You would only face more ridicule if you argued about this.

“Don’t forget the librarian,” you joked half-heartedly.

Hoseok chuckled lightly, and you were glad he dropped the topic after that.

But still the issue of your sorely misused textbook remained.

There was nothing to be done. You had to go to the library.

It may seem a ridiculous thing to be scared of, especially for someone who loved books, but, as Hoseok had kindly refreshed your memory of, there were… stories. The campus library at your college warranted a degree of wariness.

Most commonly told was the story of Cindy, supposedly a student at the university many years before. No matter how dramatic the story was made, the essentials were the same; she had gone into the library and never come out.

Logically, you knew that this was just one of those quirky urban legends that came to surround certain places.

Nonetheless, your nerves only worsened as you entered the grand building.

On your way in, you only passed one other student. Most people were leaving uni at around this time, but you needed to hang around anyway because your shift was soon. You had sent a quick text to Yoongi to let him know you would be there once you found the book, and somehow it comforted you a little that someone else knew you were here.

Moving through the first few rows of tall bookshelves, you had to pass by the main desk on your way to the section you were looking for.

Doing your utmost to tread with care, sandals making as little noise as you could manage on the wooden floor, you walked on.

As you drew near, the librarian looked up. Greeting them with a bright smile, you didn’t let it show that your heart was really thumping in your chest.

Hurrying along, you only slowed once you had entered the right section. Near the back of the library, it was dimmer as no light from the window reached all the way into the corner. Utter silence dampened the air. Not even the rustling of the librarian sorting papers could be heard from here.

Alone with the hushed sound of your own breath, your eyes flicked along the rows, searching for the right name.

Spotting it at last, you wasted no time in reaching for it. But as you tried to slide it from its spot, you were met with resistance. Perhaps it was very tightly packed in its place.

You tried again with both hands. It was still wedged in, but you felt it give a little so kept pulling. You managed to tug it out a little way, but this time, the book tugged back. Holding onto it as tightly as you were, you stumbled forwards, nearly slipping out of one of your sandals.

Gulping, your brow creased. More determined this time, you tried once more, but it seemed the book only retreated further among its companions on the shelf.

Breathing heavily, you stepped back. Books were not meant to do this. You swore it had moved by itself.

Maybe Hoseok would call you crazy if this was your reason for not getting the textbook. But, you thought, staring back down the empty row of shelves, a science textbook was less important than not getting involved with the strange happenings of the library.

Already you were questioning your sanity. Books didn’t move.

Looking back at it once more, it appeared perfectly unassuming. There was nothing unusual about the book. Maybe your mind was playing tricks, driven from the fear you felt about this place.

Breathing deeply, you reached your hand out for one last try. Picking up a book couldn’t be that hard. As long as you didn’t fear it-

Your fingers came into contact with the spine, and not a moment later, the book shrunk right back. But though it shot out of sight between its neighbours, your hand was stuck to it. Your intent to snatch it straight back at any sign of movement failed, and you were yanked forwards.

Flying clean off your foot now, your sandal clattered to the floor among the silent shelves behind you.

Your stomach jerked at the sudden movement. Now, as you plunged towards the shelves, you screwed your eyes shut, anticipating the imminent collision.

None came.

Instead, your insides seemed to be suspended. You had not crashed, but still your feet didn’t meet the floor; though your eyes were closed you were certain you were falling.

Rapidly upping its pace, your heart tried to punch through your ribs the longer you were in this state, fearing your landing. Panicked, you took great gulps of air, limbs flailing fruitlessly.

You landed.

It felt like you had been falling for a long time – too long – yet the force you hit the ground with was not painful. For a second, it expelled air from your lungs, but by the time you had rolled and tumbled enough to land on your back, you were sucking in a shaky breath.

Blinking, you turned to look around you. Your arms struggled to push you from the ground, but you heaved to sit up anyway.

This was like nowhere you had ever been.

No parquet was beneath you here. The ground was earth, sparse tufts of grass growing from it. But in places, the foliage was abundant, great swathes of vibrant grass surrounding a nearby rock which protruded from the ground.

These rocks were also plentiful, though not of regular size. They poked from the ground, rough surfaces being seized by moss of all colours.

Other plants stretched higher still, all in shades of purple, green and blue. Climbing slowly to your feet, your eyes traced up the stem of a slender tree whose leaves drooped downwards with their size.

The only thing you could hope to recognise were roses that grew in places, curved petals familiar atop their stems that wound around larger plants.

In the scattered canopy above you, there appeared to be vines as well. Climbers, perhaps; it appeared as if they were winding around ceiling beams above you, except that they were in open air, pale sky stretching above them.

Very deliberately, you blinked.

Nothing changed.

Jaw hanging open, you turned slowly around. This place continued the same everywhere you looked. You certainly weren’t in the library anymore.

Taking some effort to breathe evenly, you forced your feet to still.

Remembering your phone, you quickly reached for it. But as you repeatedly pressed the power button, the screen remained black. Either you had let it run down, or it wouldn’t work in this alien place.

You replaced it in your pocket with bitter disappointment and continued to stand still, observing this place.

Purposefully, you walked towards the nearest rock. Given the way you were transported here, you were a little wary of touching random objects, but you tentatively reached for the mossy surface. Briefly grazing it, you jumped backwards, expecting something to happen.

Nothing. Just the springy surface of moss, solid and very real.

Staring at the rock, your mind ran in uncomprehending circles. How had you got here? Why? How could you get out?

Cutting through your thoughts, a thump came from behind you.

Startled, you jumped around, eyes darting in panic around the world you had found yourself in. Nothing seemed to have moved…

A cough, followed by a groan, drifted from somewhere.

Frown deepening, you stepped forwards. A few paces brought you around the next rock, bigger than the last. Not only was it taller than you, it was bordered on one side by more of the tall plants, blocking your view of what was behind it.

This was definitely where the sounds were emanating from. As you cautiously rounded the boulder, rustling sounds reached your ears.

Reaching the trees, you peered between two dark blue trunks. Every muscle in your body was tense, ready to spring away at the first sign of danger.

Instead, you were greeted with the shape of a person. They wore a dark jacket, their hair also dark, but they were facing away from you where they sat.

For a moment you stood frozen. You were divided: should you announce yourself? Maybe they could help you? But for all you knew, they might not feel kindly towards you. What would another person be doing in this strange place?

Before you had the chance to decide, let alone move, the person slumped backwards to lie down, huffing a great sigh as they went.

Your eyes widened. Now you could see their face — and you certainly hadn’t expected this.

“Hoseok?”

Squeezing between the trees, you pushed your way into the small clearing he lay in. On hearing your voice, he twisted towards you with wide eyes.

“Y/N?” he jumped up, eyeing you suspiciously, “what is this place?”

“I have no idea,” you answered honestly. Then, “what are you doing here?”

Echoing your earlier words, he said, “I have no idea.”

After a moment, he seemed to remember something and looked around sharply.

“I found this,” he told you, pointing at the ground some feet away. There lay your sandal from earlier.

“Oh. Thank you.”

You flashed an awkward smile and went to pick it on, sliding it back onto the foot it had lost not long ago. Then your silence resumed.

Briefly, you did nothing but stare at each other. Then you stared again at the bizarre scenery around you.

Hoseok was first to move. Apparently becoming tired of your company so soon, he turned away with hands on his hips and began to pick through the undergrowth, which was thicker here than where you had first landed.

Even if this was all the company you were granted, you were eager to keep it, and so followed him.

A few minutes passed. Eerie silence was all around, save for the tentative brush of your footsteps against plants. He hadn’t complained about your presence, though, so you eventually decided it safe to speak.

“Did you… fall here?” you ventured.

His eyes snapped back to you. With a nod, he confirmed it.

“From the library?”

Slowing down, he allowed you to catch up and walk at his side.

“Yeah, why? You too?”

“That’s what happened to me,” you nodded, “but… what were you doing in the library?”

But Hoseok never heard those last words. A deafening, crunching crash resounded through your quiet conversation, drowning you out.

Both of you reacted quickly, spinning to the source of the monstrous sound in fear. Your hammering heart only sped up as you located a dark shape above the treetops.

“There!” you cried, grabbing onto Hoseok’s sleeve.

He spotted it as you pointed, for it was rapidly growing, soaring towards you.

“What is that?” he yelled, stumbling backwards.

You had nothing to offer in reply, instead watching with wide eyes as the creature flew closer still. Still grasping at Hoseok’s sleeve, you tugged at it, looking around for the nearest cover. He made no move. Struck dumb with awe, he seemed to be rooted to the spot.

Turning back to the sky, you were panicked to see the beast drawing closer. You could make out a long snout protruding from its head, spiny wings beating slowly and yet carrying it swiftly over the land.

The monster was enormous, blocking out a chunk of the open sky.

Not wanting to hesitate any longer, you pulled Hoseok forcefully with you as you retreated under the cover of a thick patch of foliage. He complied, still unable to tear his gaze from the flying creature.

You almost daren’t look, even now you were secluded among shadow. But curiosity overcame you.

It was near enough on top of you now. You held your breath, terror washing over you at the sight of it, close enough now that you could make out scales on the thing’s large belly. They glimmered a blazing red as it moved.

But its pace was fast, and it continued quickly, long tail etching a path through the sky behind it.

“Was that…” you breathed, after you felt enough time had passed to be safe. But your thought was too absurd for you to speak out loud.

However, Hoseok finished it for you.

“A dragon?”

Both of you slowly turned to face each other, matching expressions of perplexed shock painting your faces. You opened and closed your mouth, but no words presented themselves.

Your gaze was only severed by the return of the same cacophony to the air that had first heralded the dragon. Only now, it was louder.

Ducking by reflex, you whipped around. Above the treetops, the dragon was returning.

Still filling the air, the sound was that of treetops rupturing as the scaled beast flew low over them, snapping them like matchsticks. Once again, it seemed like the thing was coming straight towards you.

“Let’s move,” you shouted over the noise.

Hoseok didn’t need telling twice.

Side by side, you raced between trees, feet and clothes catching on leaves and vines that spanned the floor. Plunging on nonetheless, you kept your eyes set determinedly ahead.

By the time your lungs demanded you stop for breath, you were sure you must have gone a considerable distance from where you had first been hiding. But the deafening crashes from above had become no quieter.

Slowing down, you sagged against a tree as you gasped for air. Just in front of you, Hoseok looked around, finding you holding yourself up shakily against the trunk.

With a look to the sky and back at you, his face sank further, eyes wide and afraid.

“Y/N!” he cried.

Lifting your head, you met his eyes. Still panting, you turned to follow a finger he raised as he took trembling steps backwards.

Overhead, the leaves seemed to shake. A shadow was sliding along the forest floor as above it, twigs and branches rained down, bouncing from their lower counterparts until they disappeared into the shrubbery.

The dragon was following you.

“Come on!” Hoseok’s voice reached you somewhere among the din.

Spinning, you found him holding a hand out to you, gesturing maniacally for you to continue. You had barely caught your breath, but forced yourself to push away from the tree and run towards him once more.

What did surprise you was that he waited for you. When you came within reach, his outstretched hand was grabbing you, pulling you along at his side.

But there was no time to think of that. Chest heaving with exertion, you willed your feet to move faster underneath you in an attempt to flee the dragon.

All at once, the tall tree trunks you had been running between, almost dense enough to form a forest, stopped. Realising too late, the two of you shot from the cover at full speed, only to find yourselves utterly exposed.

Skidding to a stop, you looked to Hoseok in panic.

Before you could take another step, shadow fell over you again, but it was not cast by harmless trees. The roar of splintering branches grew to an overwhelming crescendo as the dragon caught sight of you and dived, uncaring for the insignificant wood pushed aside by its bulk.

Beside you, Hoseok screamed hoarsely. Together you fled backwards, knowing there was no hope of outrunning your pursuer.

In a few seconds, the beast had descended, giant nostrils flaring at your eye level. Curved fangs gnashed.

With horror, you saw a glow brighten the deep tunnels atop its snout.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted another rock, rough surface towering from the ground. You barely had time to think before you were shoving Hoseok to the side so you fell together behind the barrier. Not a moment later, blazing orange flared, obscuring all other sights as fire erupted from the monster’s jaws and nostrils.

You gave no thought to the position you had fallen in, your push having left you tumbling directly on top of Hoseok. His scream rang in your ears, only rivalled by the crackling heat in the air as his arms wrapped around you. You too were curling up, hands shielding your head in some attempt to shelter.

Thankfully, the rock you had chosen was one of the larger ones and took the brunt of the blast.

Not that it encouraged you much, considering the persistence the beast had shown so far. The dying away of the heat and fire only brought on dread, gnawing low and incessant in your stomach, of the next blast.

Barely daring to breathe, you stayed still, huddling against Hoseok, who did the same.

Any moment, you expected another massive roar to rip through the air. A swipe of the malicious claws or the sizzling heat of dragon flame. The longer you waited, the harder your heart rioted in your chest.

“Students.”

You jolted violently as a loud voice resonated through the air. But it was not the dragon.

Looking around showed you no one who the voice might belong to.

“It is gone,” the voice said.

Hoseok’s hold around you was loosening. Swallowing, you became aware of your proximity and carefully extracted yourself, not looking him in the eye as you moved to sit next to him instead.

It was true that no indicator of the dragon’s presence had made itself known, but you were not inclined to trust a faceless voice. You crawled to peer around the edge of the rock. Finding the space empty, you emerged further.

The clearing was totally deserted. The only evidence of the recent fearful moments was the debris of burnt leaves and broken branches scattered across the ground.

“Who are you?” Hoseok raised his voice, though it shook a little.

You returned to his side, the voice replying as you sunk down beside him.

“Students,” the voice repeated. It was level and calm, but awfully cold. The word was spoken with disdain. “I doubt you would recognise such a voice as mine. You young humans know not the value of words, of books. I am the librarian.”

You blinked in surprise. Next to you, Hoseok sat forward from the rock you leaned against.

“You are? Can you get us out of here?” he yelled, aiming his voice at the sky for lack of target for his pleas.

“Certainly not. I am the keeper of this land. You see, due to the neglect of your kind, my creatures are only kept alive through written word, and I cannot let them be endangered. Students are all the same. Careless. I do not appreciate those who vandalise or waste the knowledge granted them through books. And so, I cannot let you take another one.”

“It’s just a science textbook,” you muttered.

Meanwhile, Hoseok was growing more desperate.

“We won’t!” he called, “just let us out!”

Ringing silence was all he received in reply.

Eventually, he flopped back against the rock with a huff. Worrying your lip, you turned to him, though you had nothing to propose for what you should do next.

His hair was a dishevelled now, strands falling into his eyes which he now turned to you. To your surprise, his mouth curved back into a smile, breathy laughs bursting from him as he rested his head back on the rock.

He shook his head.

“This is crazy.”

You had to agree.

Turning your despairing eyes away and to the surrounding forest again, you were surprised to see movement among the trees. But this creature was not enormous or fire-breathing. A sandy-coloured tail waved, blurring in the air.

Bounding through the trees and coming to a stop at the forest edge, came a labrador.

Staring in bemusement, you found the dog looking right back at you. It was panting, mouth open in a smiley-looking shape. Its tail continued wagging enthusiastically behind it.

Just as you opened your mouth to tell Hoseok, the dog went rigid, body jerking as it barked across the space.

Sitting up straight, Hoseok spotted the dog as well, and together you watched it.

The dog watched back, standing still as if waiting for something. It reminded you of the way your flatmate’s dog used to wait for you to throw the ball when you played with her.

After another minute of stillness, it barked again, then turned and ran. You jumped to your feet as the yellow tail went wagging away through the shadows.

“What are you-“ Hoseok exclaimed as you started towards the trees, following the dog’s path.

Already tired, your legs lagged behind the dog’s pace and you nearly lost sight of the sandy fur. But you kept your eyes trained on it. This animal did not seem unfriendly, or angry. Something told you that you could trust it.

“Where are you going?”

You hadn’t noticed the pursuing footsteps until Hoseok was grabbing your arm, forcing you to stop. Looking around at him in annoyance, you shrugged him off and turned back around. But you had lost sight of the dog now, finding the forest empty.

Your shoulders slumped.

“I was trying to do something to get us out of here-“

“By getting more lost?”

Hoseok’s eyes blazed with anger and he threw his arms out to punctuate his yell with frustration. Opening your mouth, you returned his outrage.

“We’ve been lost since we got here! We don’t know anything about this place, but we can’t just do nothing!”

“What can we do? You heard what the librarian said.”

His volume had lowered and he took a step back.

Breathing out, you did the same, noticing only now how you had crowded each other’s space in your anger. Swallowing down your own frustration, you levelled your gaze at him. His words spoke of despair.

Sighing, you pushed a hand through your hair.

“There’s no use in fighting,” you muttered, “and I’m scared too. But we have to try.”

Lifting his eyes to you, Hoseok felt then as if he was seeing you for the first time.

You shared his fear, and had spoken that out loud, but still the steely glint never left your eyes. Rather than run or hide, you stood tall, resolved to find a way out, no matter how hopeless this crazy turn of events seemed.

“Hoseok?” you called, rendered hesitant by his silence.

Giving his head a quick shake, he averted his gaze from you.

“Hobi,” he spoke.

You frowned.

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Hobi,” he repeated, “if we’re stuck here forever, I won’t be able to stand it if you call me Hoseok all the time.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Taking that to be some odd form of agreement, you turned around and started to pick your way again through the forest, no matter how blindly. The only vague thing guiding you was the notion that the dog had left this way, but that certainty grew weaker with time.

The only thing bolstering you were the steady steps of Hobi right beside you. A reminder you weren’t alone here.

“Sorry for losing your textbook.”

Smile quirking your lips, you turned to Hobi. He was steadfastly ignoring your gaze, kicking his feet through the low undergrowth while his hands were buried in his pockets.

“If you hadn’t done that, I wouldn’t be here now,” you hummed.

That caught his attention.

“Hey! At least I’m apologising!”

“Doesn’t fix the fact we’re lost in… well, wherever this is,” you chuckled, “though I’m sure it’s worked out well for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I hadn’t come here to replace my textbook, you would be here all alone.”

Hoseok simply tilted his head in vague answer.

After a few short moments of quiet, you resumed the conversation.

“So, what were you in the library for?”

He let silence stretch out for longer than you expected, and you slowed your steps to look at him. His eyes were wide, and when he spoke, it was with a nervous smile, as if he wasn’t sure he should be smiling.

But he was too quiet, and all you heard was something that sounded like ‘yuzbook’.

“Sorry?” you frowned.

With a long-suffering sigh, he finally spoke up.

“I was looking for your science book as well.”

Your eyebrows shot upwards.

“You were?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you had decided it was my responsibility? Even though you lost it.”

“Exactly, I had lost it. I felt bad.”

“Ha!” you exclaimed, jumping around to dance in front of him, “Jung Hoseok admits remorse! What is the world coming to?!”

“I told you to call me Hobi,” he grumbled.

A smile was still bursting at your lips, but you calmed down and returned smugly to his side.

“My bad. Hobi wanted to do something nice! For me, of all people! Maybe this really is a dream…”

“You dream about me?” he grinned, teasing right back.

“Eugh, of course not,” you scoffed.

His laughter filled the forest, and you were glad of it. At length, it faded and you walked on.

“But, turns out you were right to be scared of the library,” he admitted quietly.

Simply nodding, you kept going. By now you had lost all hope to have remained on course with the dog you had seen earlier, but there was little use dwelling on that.

Most of the way, you had been trekking through forest, but now the trees were thinning. Once again, they began to be clustered in patches near protruding rocks.

Coming between two waist-height boulders, you found a pond lying cradled by short grasses and more rose plants.

Agreeing on a break, you and Hobi slumped down at its bank, though you also agreed not to drink it. Hobi seemed much more distrustful of everything you came across in this curious land than you, but there was no harm in caution, you supposed. It was true that, on getting closer to the water, it appeared to glimmer silver.

What that meant, you didn’t know, but didn’t care to investigate.

Reclining on the ground, you breathed deeply. The pond was in a large clearing, similar to the first place you had crash landed in. You couldn’t escape some dread that all this time had brought you in a mere circle to the beginning, but there was no way to be certain.

Forest lined one side of the oasis, while the other stretched away, obscured behind that rocky landscape dotted with an array of foliage.

As you scanned the area idly, a familiar blur of motion had you sitting up with a yelp.

“There! Did you see that!” you cried, but began running without waiting for a reply.

Twisting to attention, Hobi clumsily took to his feet after you.

“You sure?” he called after you.

You kept running. You had seen it – it had been right here. You were certain it was trying to lead you somewhere, and you felt compelled to follow it.

Plunging between rocks, Hobi’s slower steps faded behind you. Uncaring, you continued, eyes alert for any sign of your goal.

And there it was: another brief glimmer from just beyond the next clump of plants. You were so close. This time, you were going to reach it. It would get you out of here.

Still running, you didn’t care that the way wound deeper through the terrain, nor that the world around you darkened as you went. No, your mind was set. You kept moving.

When you finally reached what seemed to be the midst of the darkness, it never occurred to you that this was never what you had been looking for. All you were filled with was delight; in the middle of the dark clearing stood a grove of roses. They were taller than the roses you had seen so far, growing thickly and close together.

In the blackness, the petals emitted a soft glow that shone through their delicate veins.

A smile curved your lips. But as you took a slow step towards the luminescence, something emerged from behind them. It became clear that the roses themselves were not glowing, but the creature. A unicorn.

White coat shimmering with its every move, it seemed to glide over the landscape. The slender horn protruding from its head appeared crafted by the finest silversmith, with hints of colours dancing along it even in darkness.

All breath was stolen from you. Your startled exhale left a cloud lingering in the air beside your lips which glittered as the majestic animal walked in front of you.

Either it didn’t see you, or didn’t mind your presence, because it proceeded perfectly calmly. Keeping your eyes fixed on it, your feet stumbled after the serene creature without you willing them to.

You barely blinked as you followed the graceful unicorn, desperate to keep your eyes on it. You couldn’t have torn them away if you wanted to. Just watching the animal had all your tension melting away: legs feeling heavy, mind fogging. All your worries dissipated as easily as smoke in the wind.

The world was silent. It was as if your ears were plugged as you reached out, somehow confident enough to touch the noble beast.

Another step closer.

Your fingers stretched out, ready to meet the sleek, glowing coat-

“Y/N!”

A blow knocked you sideways, a weight falling with you as the shout of your name rung loudly in your ears. For a split second, you winced, expecting to be crushed on the ground, but already a hand shielded your head. Instead, you landed on a body, held securely in the person’s arms.

Gasping, you found yourself breathless. Your gaze had been severed on being tackled, and now that you blinked, dark clouds seemed to lift from your vision.

Looking around wildly, you were slow to come to your senses, but the person was already shifting.

“We need to move.”

That voice was familiar. Looking around, you found Hoseok’s eyes trained on you as he struggled to stand with your weight against him.

Clumsily getting your feet underneath you, your mouth opened, but a shriek filled the air before you could speak.

Clapping your hands over your ears, you winced at the piercing wail splitting the air.

Hoseok, however, wasted no time. He grasped your wrist, pulling you stumbling across the clearing behind him as he sprinted away.

Wide-eyed and breathless, you twisted to look behind you. The unicorn was still there, but it wasn’t glowing, just plain white. But your eyes only caught it for a second, before a darker shape was swooping from the sky.

Feet pounding, you fled the shrieking beast as it descended in a rush of feathers.

Glinting talons flashed, inches in front of your face as the bird-like shriek reached its peak.

And then you were plunged into shadow, squeezed between leaves and petals.

Hoseok slowed, dropping your hand, but you were practically frozen. You staggered backwards, eyes trained on the spot those razor sharp claws had been.

Above you, the shrill cry was quieting, echoing around the land as your attacker circled higher once more.

“What… what was that?” you panted.

“That was close,” Hoseok responded, no humour in his voice. “I was calling to you! Why didn’t you move?”

“You were?” you frowned, “I-I didn’t hear. I don’t know what happened.”

Light frown creasing his brow, Hobi looked seriously down at you. Swallowing, he looked you over. Your heart still trembled, trying to take in what had just happened, and you looked up at him fearfully. Was he angry?

Fixing his eyes on your own, Hobi stepped forward, bending to draw your faces closer together. Holding your breath, you stiffened, heart rate rocketing as his breath fell warm over your cheeks.

Then he reached his hand out. You forced yourself to hold his gaze, not sure why your face was growing hotter under his scrutiny.

His fingers met your hair. They pulled gently at a strand.

“You had this in your hair.”

Blinking, you found him holding a rose petal up, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

“Right. Thank you,” you spoke awkwardly, snatching it from his hand.

“Let’s stay here for a bit,” he said then, turning around as if nothing had happened. However, you didn’t complain. You didn’t want him to see your burning cheeks.

Hobi had pulled you into the grove of roses you had seen earlier, which grew some way above your heads. The bushes were close together, providing the perfect cover. You heard no more of the shrieking monster as you walked after him through the plants.

Beautiful flower heads were nestled everywhere, the graceful bundles of petals peering at these strangers walking through their home.

Eventually, Hobi came to a halt. When you stopped at his side, he pushed aside some leaves to show you what lay beyond.

You had reached the other side of the grove and a new clearing lay before you. Unlike the other places you had been, there were no tall trees or wide rocks rising from the ground. At last it was flat.

But, most noticeably, in the middle of the clearing there was a building. Deep blue walls rose from a gold base, thin pillars winding upwards to support the corners of the many-sided roof. Small arched windows were set high up in the walls, through which you could see a silvery glow from inside.

Hobi looked around the space before emerging. No longer impatient, you wholly agreed with his caution and also peered out carefully.

As you remained mostly hidden by the roses, something came running around the house.

The dog.

Same as before, it stood looking at you, smiling mouth and wagging tail welcoming.

First, you looked to Hobi.

“What do you think?”

“You were right,” he replied, “the dog seems alright. We should give it a shot.”

Smiling, you felt assured now you were in agreement. Not stopping to think too much about the action, you placed your hand resolutely in Hobi’s and stepped forwards.

This time the dog did not begin running away, waiting for you by the blue house wall instead. As the two of you drew closer, you bent a little, holding your hand out to the creature.

“Hi!” you cooed, ignoring Hobi’s light scoff from beside you.

The dog poised as if it would bark back, but instead it looked towards the house. Following its gaze, you looked through the window and instantly fell silent.

Inside, a figure was sitting, though you could only see their head and shoulders – and a pair of wings. They fluttered lazily, glinting in the silvery light.

“The librarian,” Hobi murmured.

Nodding, you looked back to the dog.

“Will you help us?” you whispered.

Its tail wagged harder.

Smiling, you reached out to give it a gentle pat, ruffling the soft fur between its ears.

Satisfied, the sandy blond animal turned around, tail blurring all the while. It trotted away, leading you around the house. On passing the windows, you both ducked, fearing what the faerie would do if they discovered you here.

A short dash, looking over your shoulders, and you finally reached a thick row of trees. Squeezing behind the large trunks, you were surprised to see large wooden doors waiting for you.

If not for the lingering worry of the librarian somewhere nearby, you would have laughed out loud.

Hobi rushed forwards, grasping the dogs ears and ruffling them enthusiastically.

“You got us out!” he whispered happily.

You were amused to see the dog’s smiling mouth grow wider, tongue hanging out with his praise.

Jumping up with a brilliant grin, Hobi walked to the door. Waiting by the handle, he let you also say goodbye to your four-legged saviour.

“Thank you,” you told it with a loving pat. For a moment, you looked into the dog’s eyes, wishing you could somehow convey your gratitude.

Then a thought came over you. Tilting your head, you frowned slightly.

“Cindy?”

The dog’s tail whirred back into motion, hopping up and down a little at the name.

Breaking into a smile, you patted it affectionately.

“Good girl, Cindy,” you grinned, “thank you.”

Then you stood to join Hobi’s side. He lifted the great handle, which made a concerning thunk in the quiet.

Hurriedly slipping through, you fell against the other side of the wood as he followed and shut it firmly behind him. You were back at the entrance of the library, the glass doors at the front of the foyer showing the road beyond it, no different than ever as cars and pedestrians hurried along.

“Who let someone like that work in a school?” you laughed, incredulous.

Hobi laughed loudly at last, the sound bringing a bigger grin to your face.

You had made it out.

All of a sudden, a pinging sound rang from your pocket, soon over taken by at least five more.

Pulling out your phone, you found it alive again, the screen lit up and full of messages.

“Yoongi’s wondering where I am,” you muttered, “my shift…”

Hobi pushed away from the wooden door, starting to walk with you across the entrance hall. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he nodded.

“Yeah, um, I should get going too, I guess.”

Opening the main doors, you stood outside on the steps, at a loss. A bus rumbled past.

“Okay,” you spoke at length, “yeah. Er, see you around.”

Smiling briefly, Hobi took a few hesitant steps back before he committed to walking away. One last wave and he was engulfed by the crowd on the street.

You sighed and set off in the opposite direction.

The bell clinked, swinging wildly above the door as you hurried over to the counter.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you spoke as you set your stuff down.

Turning to lean against the counter, Yoongi shrugged.

“’s’alright. Where were you though?”

“Ah…”

What were you meant to say? Your head was still spinning from everything that had passed, but you knew no one would believe you if you told them the truth. Shifting a little, your teeth nipped at your lower lip while you tried to come up with a reasonable excuse.

Meanwhile, a knowing look was sliding onto Yoongi’s face.

“I see,” he grinned, and then, to your mortification, winked!

“No, you don’t- that’s not-“ you protested, but he was already snickering and turning back to the washing up.

Shaking your head, you concluded that whatever his belief was would make as good as excuse as any. At least he had made it up for you, saving the hassle.

You got to work.

Over the next couple of days, everything ran like normal. Except for you, nothing was normal.

You still had no idea how such a small amount of time had passed while you and Hobi were busy running for your lives in fear of the librarian and their crazed world. You had barely been late for your shift afterwards; when it was time for bed you had collapsed straight in, feeling as if you had been awake for two days straight.

Of course, you had never gone back for that textbook.

In college the next day, you had taken a detour to class, stubbornly avoiding the building that had all but kidnapped you, wondering at the fact no one else seemed to realise.

At the café later on, you waited impatiently for any sign of Hobi outside. He was the one person you desperately wanted to see. Surely he must be feeling the same? He would understand.

But you waited and waited, serving countless other customers without much thought. He never came, and so you were left to question your own sanity by yourself.

Nothing about your impromptu adventure made sense.

If it had been real, why didn’t Hobi act like anything had changed? You certainly couldn’t pretend that nothing had been altered between you while you had been trapped in that strange world inside the library.

Perhaps it had been a dream. All of it seemed so implausible that even recollecting it sent you spiralling with more questions.

But there was one hope. Even if Hobi remembered nothing of what transpired, you were still supposed to tutor him. You would see him next week, and try to assess what he might remember.

So when your phone buzzed that night, screen lighting up with a message from him at last, you had expected to arrange this week’s session. But all it said was: come outside.

Though you frowned, you weren’t going to pass up this chance.

Sliding off your bed, you quickly stuffed your feet into your slippers and tried your best not to break into a run on the way to the door. Collecting yourself first with a deep breath, you pulled it open.

The first thing you took in was empty space outside your door. Blinking at it, you couldn’t prevent the disappointment from creeping in. But then your eyes flickered downwards.

There at your feet lay a rose.

Your lips parted in wonder as you stooped to pick it up. Taking it between your fingers, you rolled it gently there. It was the exact same as those delicate flowers that had filled the grove where you sheltered together in the library.

A smile tugged at your mouth. It only grew as you remembered the identical petal Hobi had pulled from your hair.

He remembered.

The relief that washed over you was dizzying. Clutching the flower to your chest, you smiled out of your doorway once more, silently thanking Hobi.

But you wouldn’t have to be silent for long. Your eyes landed on a figure leaning against a lamppost a few metres away, smiling right back at you.

As your eyes met, Hobi stood straighter. His mouth shifted to a radiant grin. He had come back to you.

Thank you so much for reading!! And again, send lots of birthday love over to @moccahobi​!! As promised, here is the beautiful bingo card I used for this story:

taglist: @aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​ @un2-verse​ @ddaechwita​ @taegularities​ 

[cherienymphe]

Regrets of Yesterday (Steve Rogers x Reader)

WARNINGS: arranged marriage, infidelity? (does it still count if all parties are consenting?), mafia!Steve, side of Bucky x reader, jealous!Steve, eventual NON-CON, Steve’s an ass

DNI IF ANY OF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers​}

➥ This will be a short 3 part series  ➥ part 2

summary: your arranged marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers isn’t what you initially thought it would be, but things have worked out better than you could have imagined. However, your arrangement with your husband becomes complicated when feelings, and circumstances, that neither of you anticipated come into play.

~

Your marriage to the infamous Steve Rogers wasn’t even what you would call a cold one. Truth be told, it wasn’t a marriage at all. Everything was arranged the moment you had caught his parents’ eyes, and before you knew it, you were engaged to a man you had never met. Of course, you knew who Steve Rogers was.

Everyone did.

To the average person, he was your run of the mill business man who’d been blessed with generational wealth. To those who really knew, he was a stern leader to the most well-known crime organization in the city, the same one he’d inherited from his father. He was equally brilliant as he was handsome, and that you could confirm for yourself on your wedding day.

It was a wedding with a decent turnout. Both of your parents were there to witness the event of course. As well as his men, but you hadn’t expected other crime bosses to be in attendance, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous. Your hair looked the best it ever had, your makeup highlighted your best features, and your dress clung to you in a way that caused everyone’s gazes to linger. All in all, it was a beautiful wedding.

If only your husband to be had been present.

Steve was there physically, of course, but the rest of him was so far away that you found yourself feeling alone at the altar. Your hands were intertwined with his as you said your vows, but you couldn’t really feel them. Your eyes met his, but it felt like he wasn’t even looking at you. His lips brushed against yours so lightly, you had to wonder if you imagined the kiss.

Your parents were positively beaming as the priest pronounced you man and wife, but as you contemplated the weight of Steve’s hand in yours, you wondered just how true that was.

The reception was everything you wanted, and when you were told that you had free reign over all of the wedding details, you had been excited. You thought that Steve was going to be one of those husbands who just wanted to make his wife happy no matter what. It was a rude awakening to realize that it was solely because he didn’t care. About the wedding...

About you.

It was during your first dance as a married couple that you fully realized just what this marriage would be.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Steve had started, making you frown.

His blue eyes gazed into yours, neat blond hair pushed away from his face. His handsome face was unreadable, not a hint of emotion peeking through, and his voice was even as he continued.

“I don’t know if they told you why you’re here…”

“They did.”

The main reason for this marriage was so that Steve could produce an heir to continue his family’s legacy. That had been made clear from the beginning, but it didn’t help you any with trying to figure out where this conversation was going.

“…and you understand that’s the only reason you’re here, correct?”

You blinked, a bit shocked as you registered his words. You knew that it played a big part in this marriage, but you hadn’t known that it was the sole reason for this marriage…nor your place here.

“I see,” you whispered, a bit disappointed.

You both turned to pose as a camera flashed, and your conversation continued as he moved you about the dancefloor, a soft breeze ruffling the skirt of your dress.

“I’m not as cruel as they say,” he murmured. “I won’t expect you to just sit in a loveless marriage.”

Your frown deepened as he continued.

“You are free to find affection elsewhere. As am I,” he said, making your eyes widen. “I’m used to a certain lifestyle, and that won’t stop just because we got married, and it would be unfair to not allow you to do the same.”

Your lips parted, and you blinked because this was not how you expected your wedding day to go at all. Here you were, dancing in a courtyard full of people as they watched the two of you celebrate your marriage. Meanwhile, your husband was telling you that he had no intentions of remaining faithful while you were free to do the same because your marriage was for one purpose and one purpose only.

“You…you want me to…”

You trailed off, your words dying in your throat as he looked away from you. Your eyes focused on his side profile, jaw moving every time he talked.

“My father gave me a year to find a wife and start working on producing an heir. He isn’t the most pleasant person to be around when he doesn’t get what he wants. This will satisfy him for the time being while we continue our lives as they were,” he explained.

You pressed your lips together, shoulders dropping as you accepted this.

“…when the time comes, we’ll do what needs to be done to have a child. Until then…”

You supposed that you couldn’t be upset with Steve. This was an arranged marriage after all. Everyone knew how most arranged marriages went, and you were the one who’d imagined this to be something it wasn’t. Besides, it wasn’t his fault that your parents didn’t clue you in on the whole story. You suspected that was for a reason though because had you known, you never would have agreed.

At least he was being transparent with you.

His eyes met yours again, and you nodded at him just as the music slowed to a halt. For the first time since you met, Steve smiled at you, and you did the same, albeit reluctantly. He took your hand and gently handed you off to your father, the older man pulling you into a dance as the music started up.

When you were done dancing with him, you enjoyed a dance with Steve’s father, the older Rogers pulling several laughs from you as he recounted stories of years past. Your dances with the other crime bosses were much more nerve-wracking, the eldest Odinson holding you a tad too tight for your liking. You were relieved when the song ended, and another took his place.

Your next dance partner, while never having the pleasure of meeting him until today, was also not unknown to you. James Barnes was just as well known as your new husband, equally as handsome, and much easier to talk to it seemed.

“You look lovely, Mrs. Rogers,” he told you, and you blinked.

You were taken aback. Sure, your father and even Steve’s father had complimented you on your dress, but Steve hadn’t said a word about how you looked. In fact, he’d hardly spared you a glance. While you accepted your marriage for what it would be, you didn’t realize that meant it would be a cold one.

“Thank you, Mr. Barnes.”

He smiled at you, a genuine expression as his lips pulled back from his teeth.

“Steve and I are close, and you’ll be seeing a lot of me so please. Call me Bucky,” he told you.

You returned his smile with a nod.

“Okay…Bucky.”

You danced with Bucky for 3 more songs, learning that he and Steve had grown up together and were practically like brothers. You enjoyed dancing with him. He didn’t hold you as tight as Thor Odinson did, but his touch also wasn’t that of a ghost’s like your husband’s. He was attentive during the conversation, looking at you instead of through you and talking with you instead of at you.

When it came time for you and Steve to cut the cake, you were a tad disappointed to part from him. Even more so when the time came for the two of you to be driven off in the limo. You stared out of the window the entire time while Steve took a business call. You occasionally eyed him, wondering if he’d ever hang up to at least have a conversation with you, but it was in vain.

With a sigh, you looked away, and forced yourself to accept that this marriage wasn’t really a marriage at all, and that it would never be. You didn’t know this man, and you weren’t being put under any obligations to love him. Truthfully, you never even had to interact with him at all. You could just bask in his millions while living a life completely separate from him. You realized that plenty of women would kill to be in your place, and it was then and there in the limo, on the way to a honeymoon where your husband wouldn’t even sleep in the same room as you, you’d decided that you would make the best of this.

“Do you…have to…leave so soon?”

His thick accent reached your ears as you bent to pick up your dress, smooth voice interrupted by his labored breathing. You slid the satin material over your skin as you pulled it back on, and you felt the bed move beneath you. You smiled when his lips brushed against your bare shoulder, a hum climbing out of his throat as they traveled to your neck.

“Pietro,” you chided.

He pretended like he hadn’t heard you, lips finding yours in a soft kiss when you turned your head. You grinned into his mouth, hand resting on his shoulder.

“I have to go,” you whispered, and he groaned.

He fell back onto the plush bed with a sigh, blue eyes finding yours. He didn’t look happy, but then again, he never did when you had to leave.

“I’ve already stayed much longer than I planned to,” you told him, standing to adjust your dress.

Before you had the chance to reach back and do it yourself, Pietro sat up to zip the material for you. His fingers brushed over your skin as he did so, lingering, and you took in a shaky breath. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and exhaled.

“Let me guess… Steve?”

You let out a snort, shaking your head while you held in a chuckle.

“When is it ever Steve?”

You and your husband had been together for almost a year, and you’d probably seen the man maybe 10 times. Steve had his life, and you had yours. Not once had the two ever mixed, not even for something as mundane as dinner. You heard Pietro scoff, and you stepped away from him to put on your shoes.

“James,” he decided, so much disdain dripping from his voice you’d think that James had fucked his mother or something. “Of course, it’s James.”

You glanced at him from over your shoulder.

“Do I detect some jealousy?”

“Of course, you do!”

You turned to face Pietro as he stood, naked as the day he was born.

“He always gets you. You like him better,” he said with a pout, and you tilted your head.

You did feel a bit guilty because what he said was true, but it couldn’t be helped. You and Pietro had only just started seeing each other two months ago. Bucky had made his intentions clear with you barely a month into your marriage.

You had been taken aback at his boldness, especially since you’d only been married to his best friend for 30 days, but then you remembered that Steve had probably resumed the activities of his former life as soon as you had returned from your honeymoon.

He was never home, always out late, and on the rare occasion you did cross paths, he hardly spared you a glance. It had been a bit lonely at first, most of your free time filled with shopping or reading or cooking. That all changed when Steve required your presence at some stuffy event. The limo ride had been silent, and you’d taken it upon yourself to part from him as soon as you entered the building.

Bucky had found you in one of the many empty hallways, admiring some painting while you sipped on a glass of champagne. He had complimented you just like he’d done on your wedding day, and you shyly thanked him, not used to the attention. Having been familiar with the building, he gave you a tour, keeping you company and making you laugh the whole night.

As you made your way to one of the upper floors, you had stumbled, courtesy of the alcohol in your system. Bucky caught you with a laugh, telling you that maybe you needed to slow down before plucking the glass out of your hand. You couldn’t remember when nor how he’d gotten so close, but his lips were suddenly on yours.

…and you were kissing him back.

You had eventually stumbled away, feeling wrong despite the fact that Steve said it was okay. Despite the fact that your husband had been doing this very thing all along. You left Bucky there in a hurry, easily finding Steve. He had been looking for you too, ready to go. The ride home was just as silent, but for once, your sham of marriage wasn’t on your mind. It was the feel of Bucky’s lips on yours.

You busied yourself for days, shopping and going out to eat to keep your mind off of one James Barnes. It came to a screeching halt when a limo that wasn’t yours was waiting outside for you when you exited one of your favorite stores. You knew it was Bucky before the window even rolled down, and you had every intention of telling him no when he offered you a ride home.

Your mind said no, and you had even convinced your heart to say no, but when you opened your mouth, that wasn’t what escaped. Confused with yourself, you reluctantly slid into the dark vehicle as he opened the door for you. He had offered you something to drink, and you had shaken your head, avoiding his eyes.

After a while, he moved to join you on your side, gently taking your hand. You didn’t stop him. His free one rested under your chin, tilting your head up so that your eyes were on him. You remembered thinking that he looked more handsome than usual that day, blue eyes brighter and dark hair styled perfectly. His eyes had searched yours as he leaned in to kiss you.

You didn’t stop him.

Your legs shook when you slowly made your way to your front door, a dazed smile on your lips. You had leaned your back against the door, ignorant to the housekeeper as they called your name. As you had made your way up the stairs, Bucky’s scent still clinging to your skin, for once, you were happy to be all alone in this big house.

You had touched yourself that night, no longer a faceless being behind your eyes, but instead James Buchanan Barnes. You woke up that next morning feeling better than you had in weeks, your mood only lifting when a knock sounded on the front door. Bucky was there with a bouquet of flowers, dressed impeccably with his limo waiting behind him. You told him to give you 30 minutes, and 30 minutes later, in a dress that you had bought yourself weeks ago to cheer you up, he was leading you towards the car.

The rest was history.

You pulled yourself from your reverie, frowning a bit at Pietro.

“Well, he’s here. You go back home in, what…2 days?” you wondered with a shrug. “I only see you for a week before you’re flying back home for another month.”

Pietro ran his eyes over you, lips down turned.

“You could come with me,” he whispered.

This conversation was not unfamiliar to you, and you rolled your eyes.

“Even if I wanted to Pietro, that would never happen,” you said, holding up your left hand. “I’m married.”

“Barely,” he mumbled.

You laughed at that, putting your earrings back in.

“True marriage or not, I don’t think Steve would take too kindly to me running off with one of my lovers. His pride wouldn’t survive it.”

“Screw his pride, the man is an idiot,” he spat, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. “We both know it’s James you worry about. There’s no doubt in my mind he’d have me killed for stealing you away.”

You pecked his lips, pulling away before reaching for your coat and your purse.

“You’re probably right. All the more reason I can’t just run off with you,” you told him.

He heaved a heavy sigh as you made your way to the door.

“I’ll call you later?” you said, glancing at him.

Pietro rolled his eyes, but a fond smile found its way onto his lips anyway.

“Of course.”

As you made your way out of the suite and into the elevator, you found yourself thinking about your fling with Pietro. He was beautiful and cultured, and he made your head spin. However, he was flighty. You knew that Pietro had a roster of women lined at his feet, and you were simply his favorite. Pietro was not the kind of man you just run off with. Sure, your marriage to Steve wasn’t a marriage at all, but it provided security, and you’d be silly to give that up for a womanizer who would lose interest in less than 4 months.

Besides, what Pietro said did have a grain of truth to it. There was no doubt in your mind that Bucky would kill the man for stealing you away. If Pietro, like all the others, was a fling, then Bucky… Well, Bucky was probably the love of your life. It was strange to finally admit that to yourself, but you did love him. Sometimes it felt like you were married to him instead of Steve, and sometimes, when it was just the two of you, you wished that were true.

You sighed into Bucky’s mouth as he pressed his hips into yours, warmth filling you as you came around him for the second time that night. Your fingers were tangled into his hair, a shudder passing through you while his fingers pressed into your hips.

“Stay the night,” he whispered against your lips.

You chuckled, throwing your head back as he brushed his own against your jaw.

“That would make it the third night in a row. I shouldn’t,” you replied. “God forbid Steve remembers my existence and actually needs me for something now of all times. It would be just my luck.”

He rolled off of you with a sigh, exasperation coloring his tone.

“Just tell him you’re busy,” he slyly said, tracing his finger down your side.

You slapped his hand away, and he laughed.

“That’s not part of the deal,” you reminded him.

He scoffed, and you sat up. You and Steve never brought up your separate lives in conversation. While that was hardly a possibility before, seeing as he never talked to you, in a week, you and he will have been married a year and 4 months, and you were seeing more of him than you were used to. Bucky had mentioned something about some shipments he was letting Tony handle, and you guessed that gave Steve more free time. You were surprised he didn’t want to fill that time with one of his many mistresses.

“Right. What is it again? Don’t ask…”

“…don’t tell,” you finished. “…and never in the house.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, resting his hand behind his head as he gazed at you, dark hair mussed.

“Are you happy?” Bucky suddenly asked you, and you paused, turning to fully face him. “I mean with him. Are you happy with him?”

You frowned, mulling over that question.

“Well,” you breathed. “There’s not really an answer for that. I’m not with him.”

Bucky sat up too, now, and you continued.

“He and I, aside from our names on a piece of paper, aren’t together. I am…a womb waiting to be used to produce an heir to satisfy his family,” you said. “So, I’m not happy or unhappy with him because I am not with him. Truthfully, I’m with you...and I’m very happy with you.”

“Then be with me.”

Bucky’s face was clouded in desperation, and you blinked at him, frowning.

“What are you saying…?”

Bucky huffed, running his hand through his hair before taking your hand.

“I’m saying ditch the other guy,” he threw at you, and you barked a disbelieving laugh.

“The other guy! You mean Steve? Your best friend? That Steve?”

Bucky heaved a sigh as he got out of bed, and you watched as he pulled his pants on.

“Look, I love Steve, but he’s an idiot. I don’t care what kind of lifestyle I was used to. If I were marrying you, I’d turn my back on it all no questions asked just to have you every night,” he said, and your face softened. “If all he needs is a baby maker, he can easily find another wife.”

“Bucky,” you sighed.

“Leave him,” he pleaded. “…and be with me.”

“You know, the last time I saw Pietro, he was demanding the exact same thing from me.”

Bucky’s lip curled at the mention of the other man that you hadn’t seen in months, and you laughed.

“How is Pietro these days, anyway?”

You fixed him with a look.

“You know that I haven’t even talked to Pietro in months. After my last refusal to run off with him, he quickly lost interest.”

Bucky smiled, face brightening as he shrugged.

“I know. I just like to hear you say it.”

You tossed a pillow at him as he laughed, moving to get dressed. He pulled you into his side as soon as you were both clothed, fingers dancing along your waist.

“I like having you all to myself,” he murmured, lips meeting your cheek.

He helped you into your coat before walking you downstairs. It was colder these days, and he tightened his hold on you as he walked you to his car. The drive to your house was quiet, but not uncomfortable, Bucky’s hand in yours as you looked out of the window. It was late at night, but the city was even livelier than it was during the day. When his driver slowly pulled into your driveway, Bucky pressed his lips to yours, reluctant to pull away.

You felt the same, and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself that his proposal was tempting. His hand tightly held yours as you stepped out of the limo, making sure you didn’t fall. Just before you turned to leave, he brought the back of your hand to his lips, blue eyes drinking you in.

“Think about it,” he murmured, and you threw him a sad smile, promising him that you would.

Your heart was heavy as you pressed your key into the door, pressing your back to it as soon as you shut it. You stood in the foyer, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. All those months ago, when Pietro had asked you to leave your husband, it had been easy to turn him down. Bucky? Not so much. Feeling like you wanted to cry for the first time in forever, you slowly made your way into the living room.

“You’re out late.”

A startled shriek left your lips, hip bumping into the table beside you just as light flooded the room in time to watch the vase of flowers shatter against the floor. Fear forgotten, you pressed your hand to your heart, sucking your teeth at the vase Bucky had gotten you last year. He bought you fresh flowers every week to fill it with.

“Oh no,” you sighed, kneeling to grab them.

You heard Steve move behind you, footsteps growing louder as he neared. You glanced at him as you stood, shaking the water and glass off of the flowers.

“Jesus, Steve. You almost gave me a heart attack,” you complained.

“Sorry,” he evenly replied. “Was this new?”

He was referring to the vase, and you tripped over your words.

“Uh…no. N-not exactly,” you said, making your way to the kitchen.

You sat the flowers on the counter, grabbing the broom and dustpan before making your way back into the living room. You frowned at the mere presence of Steve, wondering what he was even doing home. Perhaps that was a bit unfair of you, but you had grown so used to not having him around. You preferred it. You could feel his eyes on you as you swept up the glass, even still when you returned to wipe up the water.

“We have a housekeeper for that,” he said, making you frown again.

“I’m aware,” you replied, standing. “…but what sense would it make for me to leave this here all night just so Peter can clean it up in the morning when I’m perfectly capable of doing it right now?”

Steve nodded, and you made to move towards the kitchen again when he spoke.

“You were out late.”

You paused to look at him, realizing that was what he’d said when you first came in, scaring the crap out of you. With a frown, you looked at your watch.

“It’s only 1:17,” you told him.

You were normally out much later, but Steve always came home in the early hours of the morning, if he came home at all, so of course he wouldn’t know that. He simply nodded at your response, hands on his hips. He was still dressed like he’d only recently gotten home himself, and you again wondered why he was even home, but you decided that you didn’t particularly care.

He was still standing there when you exited the kitchen, flowers left in the sink. You wouldn’t worry too much about them. It was almost time for Bucky to buy you a new bouquet anyway. You barely spared Steve a glance as you made your way to the stairs, briefly pausing when he wished you a goodnight. You threw him a small frown before wishing him the same, Bucky returning to your thoughts the minute you entered your bedroom.

You were startled again when you entered the kitchen the next morning, finding Steve already there sipping on a cup of coffee. Once again, his presence confused you, but you kept it to yourself. You don’t think you had ever woken up to find Steve still in the house, and certainly not in the kitchen. You didn’t greet him as you made your way to the fridge, grabbing some lemon to put in your water.

Silence filled the room as you went about cutting a few slices, preparing your drink. It seemed a little tense, but you were determined to ignore it. You were meeting Bucky in an hour and it would take half that just to figure out what to wear. You were pulled from your thoughts by Steve’s voice.

“You never did say where you were last night.”

You glanced up at him, a slight frown on your face before you released a light chuckle. You heard him set his mug down, and when you looked up again, his eyes were on you. He was casually dressed today, a first for him. He still had on the usual black slacks, but he’d traded the button down for a simple white tee.

“Something funny?”

His voice was low, a tone he used on his subordinates you were sure, but you merely nodded your head.

“Yes. You.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to frown, eyes narrowed just a bit.

“How so?”

“You’ve never been curious about my whereabouts before,” you told him.

“Well, that was before I knew you weren’t coming home,” he said.

You sighed, setting the knife down as realization hit you.

“We were supposed to attend a gala last night, and I came home the other day to tell you, but you weren’t here. You never even came through the door, and that was concerning,” he explained. “If you hadn’t walked through the door last night, I was going to send a search party.”

“I have a phone.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, pulling said phone out of his pocket before placing it on the counter.

“A phone that you left here.”

You grimaced, sheepishly taking it. You could get so caught up with Bucky sometimes that you were positive you’d lose your head if it weren’t attached to you. Your eyes met Steve’s, apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I’ll do better about keeping it with me,” you promised.

He heaved a sigh, taking another sip, eyes never leaving yours. You rolled your eyes, realizing what he wanted, before dropping your knife into the sink.

“I was with a friend,” you told him. “…but as you can see, I’m safe and sound. There’s no reason to worry.”

You slipped out of the kitchen before he could respond, determined to hurry up and get dressed. This wasn’t the first time that you’d forgotten your phone at home, it was just the first time you’d done so, and Steve happened to need you.

He wasn’t in the kitchen when you came back down, dressed and ready to go, but you could hear him upstairs. Practically itching to get out of this house and away from his cold stare, you hurriedly made your way outside. In the car, you took your time to check your phone, grimacing at the 3 missed calls from Steve. However, a smile found its way onto your face at the message from Bucky. He’d sent it last night after he dropped you off, telling you to think about it.

It was the first thing he brought up as soon as you met him at the restaurant too.

“Steve won’t even miss you. Hell, he doesn’t miss you, but I do. I miss you all the time,” he said.

“Funny, you miss me all the time when I feel like I’m with you all the time,” you commented, picking at your appetizer.

Bucky tilted his head, pretending to think.

“I’d say you’re with me about 90% of the time-.”

“90%, you don’t say,” you mocked.

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “90%, and that other 10%, I’m practically dying.”

You rolled your eyes.

“How do you manage…”

“I’m serious, Y/N,” he continued, taking your hand. “Leave him. There are a million women who could easily take your place, women who want to be in your place. He gets one of them, you get me, and we’re all happy.”

You smirked at him, attention falling to your food again.

“Why Mr. Barnes, I do believe you’re trying to wreck my marriage,” you teased.

“Hardly. I’m simply trying to start a new one.”

Your eyes snapped to his, that teasing smile falling from your lips as you registered his words. Your heart skipped a beat, and your lips parted as he eyed you, his tongue darting out to wet his own.

“…what?”

“Doll…what did you think when I said be with me?”

You shook your head, shrugging.

“I…I don’t know, but I didn’t think you meant marriage. You want to marry me?”

He took your hand in both of his, pressing his lips to the skin, a brown strand kissing his forehead.

“Of course, I do. More than anything. Wouldn’t you like that?”

You thought about it, chewing on your lip.

“…waking up to each other every morning, falling asleep to each other every night. I’d bring you breakfast in bed and we’d…work on our little family…”

Your gaze met his again, and you found that you loved the sound of that.

“Are you…proposing to me…?”

The idea was absurd, especially considering you already had a ring on your finger. Bucky chuckled, shaking his head.

“Not really. I just wanted you to know my full intentions, that I’m not just fooling around here.”

You stewed over what he said while he continued.

“I’m not going to pressure you anymore, but you know how serious I am now, and I want you to think about it,” he softly told you.

You slowly nodded, still in shock.

“I will,” you quietly replied.

His grin widened, and he sat back in his seat.

“After we leave here, we can go pick out a nice bouquet, yeah?”

You suddenly blinked as you remembered last night, a smile on your face.

“Yes, please, and…a vase too?” you guiltily asked.

He frowned, tilting his head before nodding.

“Of course. What happened to your vase?”

You huffed a sigh.

“I broke it. I bumped into the table, courtesy of Steve,” you complained, shaking your head.

“Steve? What do you mean?” he demanded, voice dropping.

“It was nothing. He was waiting for me when I got home last night, in the dark like a creep, and he practically gave me a heart attack,” you explained.

Bucky didn’t respond for a while, simply humming. He picked at his food, lips pursed as he eyed you.

“Why was he waiting for you?”

“Apparently there was some gala last night? He’d been planning to tell me I had to be in attendance with him but someone…,” you threw him a pointed look “…prevented me from going home the other night. Add in that I had left my phone at home, I guess Steve convinced himself that I had been kidnapped or something.”

Bucky simply hummed in response, and you both finished your lunch. Your days spent with Bucky always went by fast, and you were always sad to wish him goodbye. His proposal was taking up more and more residence in your mind, especially as you watched him drive off. You stood at your door, staring after his car with your coat wrapped around you, wondering what it would be like to go home to him every night.

With a sigh, you turned and made your way inside. You were greeted by the sight of Steve, voice low as he pressed his phone to his ear. You sent him a small polite smile before making your way to the kitchen to fill up your new vase, fresh flowers in your left hand. You were just cutting them when he joined you, and you turned to curiously look at him.

“I need you to accompany me to an event tomorrow,” he told you to which you nodded, wondering if Bucky was going to be there.

“Okay.”

You didn’t hear him leave as you turned back around, dropping the flowers into the water, satisfied. Your suspicions turned out to be correct when you turned around only to find him still standing there.

“I could’ve replaced the vase if I’d known it was that important,” he said with a small frown.

You shook your head, moving past him.

“It’s fine,” you honestly told him.

His eyes were still on you as you sat it down, adjusting it to a position that you liked. You tightened your coat around you as you passed him, ascending the stairs with a small ‘goodnight’ thrown over your shoulder.

You woke up the next morning feeling positively ill. Every inhale had your stomach churning, and you cursed yourself, trying to remember everything you ate the day before. You had planned to at least see Bucky for a little bit before this shindig tonight, but the summersaults going on in your stomach had you canceling on him. The silver lining was that he apparently was going to be in attendance tonight, and that made you feel better.

Again, Steve was home all day, but you didn’t see him until it was time to go. You had remained in bed all day, drifting in and out of sleep, fighting off every wave of nausea that came at you. You though that you did a good job of hiding your discomfort, but Steve had asked you if you were alright the minute you came downstairs. You told him that you were fine, a whopper of a lie, but your attendance was mandatory so what else could you do?

Like all of your car rides together, this one was silent, but you could feel Steve’s eyes on you every now and then. You couldn’t be bothered to question him on it, too preoccupied with keeping your food down. Your nausea only got worse the minute the two of you stepped into the building. The smell of food was heavy in the air, and there was no doubt that you were starting to look as sick as you felt.

Your eyes fell on a group of familiar faces, one more familiar than the rest. You threw them all strained smiles as you approached, head feeling a bit light. You couldn’t even be bothered to care that Steve’s hand was on the small of your back, more important things to worry about other than his unusual behavior.

You had just reached your friends and acquaintances when a server came by with a tray of food. The smell that hit your nose had your stomach clenching, and you barely had enough time to swipe a napkin before your food was coming up.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Nat cried, hurrying towards you with a bowl.

There was some slight commotion as her husband, Bruce, and Sam hurried to flag down some help for the mess. Nat’s hand was on your shoulder, helping you towards a seat, and you could feel Steve’s hand still on your lower back.

“Y/N?”

He sounded worried, and you only figured out why when your legs crumbled. You hadn’t realized that your lashes had begun to flutter as your steps started to slow.

“Woah,” he said, catching you as you fought to straighten your vision.

He sat you down, and you could feel several people fanning you. Steve was wiping your hands clean when Bucky finally neared, brows furrowed in concern, looking as handsome as ever. Too bad you couldn’t truly appreciate it.

“I’m okay,” you told him before he could even start. “Just ate the wrong thing, I think.”

Bucky didn’t look convinced, and he sat down beside you, pressing his hand to your forehead.

“You don’t feel warm,” he murmured, and you shook your head at him.

“It was just some bad food,” you whispered, trying to ease his worries.

Again, he didn’t look convinced, but he nodded anyway. He stood with a sigh.

“I’m going to go get your coat,” he said, and you thanked him.

You could feel Steve’s eyes on you, but when you looked at him, you couldn’t make out his expression. His hand was still on your lower back, and you finally breathed better when he pulled away, standing.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to the valet, make sure the car is ready so we can go.”

Your face fell, feeling like you ruined his night.

“I’m sorry, Steve-.”

“What for? You’re clearly sick. I wish you had said something.”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he sounded upset that you didn’t tell him, but it was more likely he was upset that you had in fact ruined his night. With a soft squeeze to your shoulder, he was gone.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” T’Challa asked you, and you nodded.

His wife, Nakia, came hurrying over with a glass of water, and you gratefully took it. You were even more grateful that you could keep it down, and you sent her a small smile as you handed the empty glass back to her.

“Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” she said, shaking her head. “You must be feeling awful. I’m grateful that I don’t get sick often because the only time I have ever vomited is when…well, when I was pregnant.”

She chuckled, and you froze.

“…and I love my children dearly, but I do not want to go through that again.”

You joined her, a nervous laugh escaping you just as Bucky returned with your coat. You jumped, having been surprised to feel the fur draped over you, but you allowed him to help you up. He rubbed your arms through the fabric, voice low.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Nakia’s words had your mind racing, and your lips parted because honestly? You didn’t know. You didn’t want to scare Bucky over nothing, but you also wanted to voice your sudden fears that you had never even considered before. All too soon, the two of you were meeting Steve at the door, and Steve’s grip was firm as he took you from Bucky’s hold, eyes hard.

“I got it from here, Buck. Thanks.”

His voice was clipped, and you frowned at him, but Bucky simply nodded, bidding you both goodnight before reluctantly making his way back inside. You wanted to tell Steve that he didn’t have to be rude to Bucky just because you ruined his evening, but another wave of nausea hit you.

Your head leaned against the window as soon as Steve deposited you into the car. The fresh air was ebbing your nausea a bit, the low rumble of the car helping. You hadn’t taken the limo, and you were starting to regret that because you really wanted to lie down, but fatigue still found a way to slowly creep up on you.

If only Steve had allowed it to do so.

“I really wish you had told me you weren’t feeling well. We would have stayed home,” he said.

You sighed.

“I was hoping it would go away. Our attendance was mandatory, Steve,” you whispered.

“Not at the expense of your health,” he sneered.

You rolled your eyes, realizing the root of his annoyance.

“I promise you, I’ll be in good enough health to give you your heir. It was just some bad food…”

Steve heaved a sigh, and you felt his eyes on you.

“This isn’t about a baby. This is about you. Watching you drop to the floor like that was…scary,” he admitted.

“I’m fine,” you said, feeling like a broken record.

“Well, you don’t look fine. You look sickly. Are you taking care of yourself like you should?”

You scoffed, wondering where this was coming from. The man who barely talked to you in almost 2 years was suddenly acting like your father, and you didn’t like it.

“Of course, I am.”

He exhaled.

“I just know that the house can be…lonely. It can get to you if you’re not careful.”

You rested your head on your hand, breathing through your mouth.

“I’m far from lonely, Steve, so really. There’s no need to worry…”

You could feel his eyes on you again, a soft ‘oh’ reaching your ears.

“I’m glad to hear it. Maybe you should go and see a doctor,” he proposed, quickly changing the subject.

You swallowed another sigh, not wanting to talk about this another minute.

“I told you, it was just some bad food.”

That was what you told yourself, but Nakia’s words almost made you want to hurl again. It only recently occurred to you that you hadn’t gotten your period in a while, but you didn’t think too much of it because you had never been regular. Still, you and Bucky weren’t always safe, but that was what birth control was for. What were the odds of your birth control failing you during one of the few times you didn’t use a condom?

However, the next day, as you stood in the bathroom, looking down at the positive pregnancy test in horror, you realized that the odds were great.

 ~

tags:  @mcudarklibrary​ @sherrybaby14​ @harryspet​ @xoxabs88xox​ @darkficreposter​ @opheliadawnwalker3​ @honeychicanawrites​ @honeychicana​ @nickyl316h​ @captainchrisstan​ @sebabestianstan101​ @readermia​ @villanellevi​​ @lokislastlove​​ @notyourtypicalrose​​ @coconutqueen21​​ @hurricanerin​​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​​ @quaksonhehe​​ @nerdygirl8203​​ @patzammit​​ @mandiiblanche​​ @cocoamoonmalfoy​​

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hello. I'm a 25yo INFJ male. I've been trying different field of studies for years in vain. I know I want to feel useful to society somehow and help people or animals in meaningful ways through my job, so that's why I wanted to go in social services. However, I find myself feeling overwhelmed and struggling to keep my mental health balanced ironically. I tried many jobs and internships in an attempt to prove to myself that I'm capable to realize my goals, but I always end up having a huge mental breakdown that leads to suicidal behaviors no matter the nature of the work (although it tends to be worse if I work in a stressful and oppressing environment ofc).

Admittedly, I have many mental illnesses (bpd, npd and cptsd) that probably explain my difficulty to "live normally", but at the same time, I stubbornly don't want that to limit my potential, so I keep pushing and hoping I can reach my goals. I do not give up easily, I kept on working or studying even if it kills me but lately, I took a break from uni and after failing to keep retail job (again), I wonder if I need to let go of my goals.

If I do, I don't think I can confront the shame of being a failure. I wouldn't know what to do, what am I supposed to do with my life if I cannot achieve anything? Live from a miserable social welfare and hoping I get enough food on a daily basis? Becoming the inadequate and incapable person I fear to be and revealing that to the rest of the world?

If I don't give up and keep pushing, at least, I can't say I didn't try. I know I'll end up kill myself eventually in this path, but I'd rather conserve the few bits of pride I have in myself than cowardly giving up. This probably sounds twisted up but it feels like my existence is doomed for a life of suffering because of how deficient I am, so I might as well "suffer honorably" for my goals at least.

I still have a few months to decide whether I should give up my uni studies and my job hunting for once and for all. But tbh, I could just flip a coin and either result will be the same to me: I'll just end up trying to survive and take my own life. Sigh. As an INFJ yourself, do you have any alternative perspectives to offer? Thank you.

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

Thinking in extremes is symptomatic of Se grip problems. Why do you live like you're trying desperately to prove something? Do you really like it? It's a choice you're making. There are as many ways to live life as there are people in this world. Life isn't all-or-nothing. You seem to want to believe it is because it makes you feel as though you have a purpose, or that your life isn't mundane like everyone else's, or that it makes you special instead of ordinary. This underlying egotism infects your every thought and action. When your intention is tainted at the start, you're likely to end up in self-sabotage.

There's nothing wrong with wanting to do some good in the world, but there is something wrong when you use this "mission" to define the whole of your identity or the whole of your existence. This manifestation of immature Ni+Fe points to underlying ego development problems (see the Type Dev Guide). You're merely covering up the emptiness inside when you should be building yourself up properly through developing your latent strengths, talents, and capabilities. We all have potential to fulfill, but your concept of potential is twisted by faulty beliefs.

You have deep-seated shame and self-worth issues that need to be worked out because they influence your entire worldview (these topics come up often, so search the tags). Health is the greatest wealth, and you won't get far without a stronger foundation of mental health. If you don't care well for yourself, you won't have the energy and wherewithal to care well for others. I strongly suggest that you work with a therapist to carefully correct your flawed thinking and beliefs, learn how to cope better with negative emotions like shame and guilt, and work on implementing realistic and incremental plans for the future. Your issues are treatable with therapy, but the key is that you have to want to change your way of thinking and stop clinging to faulty beliefs that don't really serve you well.

[iamanartichoke]

I wasn't sure if I was going to post this, but I may as well.

I keep starting to reply to things and then stopping bc the words just aren't there, and I suppose I figured out the core of what bothers me so much (and is making me have such a rollercoaster of a fan experience) about the show.

(cut for length)

It's not well-written. My opinion is my opinion, so I'm saying this subjectively, take it or leave it, but ... I feel that it's not well-written. The overall story is fine, and the plot is fine, but I don't know if it's because of the limited number of episodes not being enough to house the story, or because of the relative inexperience of the writer/showrunner+director, or both, or something else, but -

In an earlier reaction post to episode 4, I mentioned really wanting to sink my teeth into all of the subtext I picked up on. That was what made me initially enjoy the episode so much - there were a lot of little moments that I initially felt revealed so much about the characters and about Loki, and I wanted to analyze them. But at some point, as I gathered more information, my perspective changed and now I no longer want to analyze the subtext bc ... subtext = good. Subtext w/out payoff = not as good.

I'll go into more detail in a moment, but I think the tl;dr of it is that I feel like the narrative requires the audience to work way too hard to put together all of the moving pieces here and, like, I kinda just don't want to do that work? Not so much of it, and not in vain. A lot of the enjoyment of Loki's characterization is coming from fans who are rationalizing why he's behaving as he is, but the narrative never actually confirms those rationalizations. It's asking us to figure it out and maybe our conclusions will be correct but maybe they won't, though. At some point, subtext isn't enough without explicit follow-through.

I thought my issue was with the lack of character development - that is, not having enough narrative space to really earn the big things that are happening now, like Loki/Sylvie or Mobius turning against the TVA. And that's still true, to an extent; I still feel like the pacing is all very off and it seems like most of these things kinda came out of nowhere (but are not unbelievable - just undeveloped).

But, yknow, it is what it is, it's a limited series, and I can excuse some things. Ultimately, my issue isn't a problem with what the narrative isn't doing, it's a problem with what the narrative already failed to do and probably cannot recover from at this point.

The narrative has left out significant details that should at least help us do some of the work here. If a person turned on Loki and started episode 1 and had no background knowledge of the character besides that he tried to take over New York - how would that person interpret Loki? Would that person say, oh, well, he's been through X, Y, and Z, and plus A happened, not to mention B, C, and D, so really, it makes sense that he seems off-the-rails, or that he'd want to get ridiculously drunk at the worst time ever.

Maybe we'd like to believe they would, but how would they be getting to that conclusion? The narrative hasn't led them in that direction so, no, they would not say well we have to consider this, this, and that. It would be impossible to really understand Loki as a character from just what we've gotten in the series. The general audience would probably interpret Loki as being out of his element and so it becomes, I wonder how this character is going to get the upper hand here. And, while that's not wrong, it's just so limited.

The narrative at face value does not address Loki's identity crisis from Thor 2011. It does not address his hurt and devastation at being lied to, nor does it address how complicated his self-image is (bc it sucked to begin with and that was before he found out he was part of a race of "monsters," as he'd been taught his entire life). It does not reference Loki being so broken at the end of Thor 2011 that he deliberately let himself fall into the void of space (aka tried to kill himself). It does not reference that he was tortured by Thanos or even that he went through a seriously dark time in between Thor and Avengers, and it absolutely does not reference or address any influence or control of the mind stone.

These are all things that we, the fan audience, know because we've already invested our time into this character's story. But tons of people, the general audience, wouldn't know these things. Or if they did, bc they saw Thor and Avengers, they wouldn't be thinking about them as deeply as we would, nor contextualizing them with how Loki is behaving now, or why it would make sense that he needed to get drunk, or why it's understandable that he needs to keep going-going-going in order to not have a spare second to think or feel.

They'd probably look at Loki, again, as a character who was a villain and is now getting his comeuppance in a place where he has no power or control, and no literal powers, and even when he manages to escape and catch up to the variant, he proceeds to fuck up their plan for seemingly no real reason except that he wanted to get drunk bc he's hedonistic. Which Sylvie even berates him for! I mean. This is not exactly a complex character breakdown, nor a very flattering one, but that's what the narrative has given us.

(If the narrative has addressed Loki's mind control, his torture, his mental breakdown, his suicide attempt, and his general shitty self-esteem as a result of his upbringing, please point it out to me. If the narrative has explicitly acknowledged and referenced these things anywhere and I am missing it, please show me where. Please explain to me how the casual viewer would know any of these things that they need to know in order to actually understand what's happening in this story.)

So I mean, okay, we have a narrative that doesn't paint a full, accurate picture of Loki. Fine, sure. But because the general audience starts out on the wrong footing, they're not going to get out of the overall story what the writers probably intended them to. For example, in episode 3, a lot of us theorized that Loki had some kind of plan - that he broke the timepad on purpose, for some reason, bc otherwise it wasn't believable that he'd be such a failure. But episode 4 revealed that no, there was no bigger plan, Loki just plain old messed up. Which is fine if, again, one is only considering the surface-level portrayal here, but it's not true to Loki's actual characterization.

I mean. Loki is not perfect and Loki actually fails a lot, this is true. He fails for a lot of reasons, but incompetence has never been one of them. Usually it's that either things grew beyond his control, or there ended up being too many moving parts, or he had to change his plan at the last minute due to some roadblock or another being thrown his way, or even that he got in his own way - whatever the case may be for his plans' failures, he was always at least shown to know what he was doing.

That wasn't the case here. The "plan" to fix the Timepad failed as a direct result of Loki's actions, which were careless and made him seem incompetent, like he couldn't even handle this mission. "You had one job," etc. And there were pretty big consequences for this; they were not able to get off-world in time and would have been killed had the TVA not shown up at the last second.

And maybe none of these things matter bc the writers never intended any of this to be a reflection on Loki's character, positive or negative. The situation exists solely because the writers needed to put Loki and Sylvie together in some kind of hopeless scenario so that they could get closer, and thus the narrative could set up their romance. I get that - but, there were other ways to do it that didn't require Loki to look foolish.

Furthermore, the whole reason they needed to set up the romance is to show Loki eventually learning to love himself (like, figuratively but also literally). The audience is supposed to gather that Loki and Sylvie fell for one another, possibly due to the high emotional aspect of, yknow, being about to die (in addition to the variant-bond). The intent is clear: Loki and Sylvie almost die but get rescued at the last minute, having now created an emotional bond --> Loki and Sylvie team up and the narrative further establishes that Loki, at least, has caught feelings --> Loki might confess them but is pruned before he gets the chance --> he somehow survives, he and Sylvie are reunited and don't want to lose one another again, and the combined power of their love is enough to break the sacred timeline and spawn the multiverse, and the reason that the power of their love is so, well, powerful is because it's about self-love and self-acceptance as much as it is about having the capacity to love someone else. The end.

I get all that. The writers more or less said all that. And, I mean, it's certainly not the way I would have chosen to go about it, but it's a fair enough arc to explore. I don't really have an issue with the intent - but my question, however, is this: if the narrative has so far not addressed Loki's background issues (as outlined above), and has furthermore kinda gone out of its way to portray Loki as hedonistic and narcissistic, among other things (like kinda incompetent), and the context the audience starts with is that Loki's this villain who deserves what he gets -

- my question is 1, why should the audience care whether or not Loki gets to a point of loving and accepting himself (thus to make the theme of self-love, via the romance, hold weight) if they don't know that he hates himself to begin with and 2, why should the audience root for Loki to reach that point when so far the perception of him is that he's "kind of an asshole"? if he's a hedonistic narcissist, he probably already has a pretty inflated sense of himself, right? A misplaced inflated sense of himself, at that, because, again, the narrative has made him out to be not that capable of much of anything. (And it didn't start out that way! It seemed to start out with Loki being capable and intelligent but it's like episode 3, in trying to set up the romance, just jumbled it all up somewhere. I think this is why I'm harping on the Loki/Sylvie aspect so much - it's frustrating bc it kinda messes up the whole story and can't even accomplish what it's supposed to anyway.)

Anyway, that's beside the point. What I'm ultimately getting at is, at what point is the audience supposed to get invested in Loki's personal growth journey?

They can't, not really. Without understanding and having the context of everything Loki has been through up until now, and why he hates himself, and why it's so important that he learn to love himself, then the "payoff" becomes kinda pointless bc the significance of it is lost in translation. So suddenly we're left with this romance that comes off as either "Loki loves Sylvie bc of Reasons" (best-case scenario) or "Loki loves Sylvie bc he's vain, narcissistic, and kinda twisted" (worst-case scenario). Neither of these conclusions are what the writers intended or were going for, I'm positive, but there we are, regardless.

In order for the writers' intent in these storylines to land, they need to address the context of what makes these particular stakes high for Loki. So far, they haven't done that. They're asking the audience to pick up on all of these things, and they're showing things that subtextually make sense and are relatively in-character - but only if you realize there's subtext in the first place.

But you can't expect the audience to do all of the work for you. If you don't want the audience to think that Loki is a narcissistic asshole and instead you are trying to convey that, worst-case scenario, he thinks he's a narcissist but is an unreliable narrator, then you have to address that. If you need the audience to understand why you're going the selfcest route and why it's important to explore Loki's capacity to love himself and others, you have to address where that exploration is starting from and why it matters. Etc etc etc.

The narrative isn't doing any of that. And it isn't like it'd be that hard to do it. They don't need to reinvent the wheel here; a lot of the pieces are already there. A few lines of dialogue for context, a brief scene here or there addressing the issues, a little more care and consistency in how Loki handles things - these are all little things that could go a long fucking way in making the narrative stronger.

I'm rambling. My basic point is that my rollercoaster of emotions with this show is because

- as a part of the fan audience, not the general one, I can contextualize and analyze the subtext and come to the conclusions the show wants me to, and thus find the story and the characters more or less enjoyable,

- but I am also going to be using the subtext to come to conclusions that aren't there but probably should be (I think it would be a better story, for example, for Loki to confuse platonic love with romantic love bc it would pave the way to explore just how fucked up Loki's understanding of love - whether of other people or of himself, and the different forms it can take - actually is)

- and when they're ultimately not there, then I think, okay why am I bothering doing all this work just to ultimately feel very unfulfilled? They don't even have to write it the way I would, I'm not saying that, but they do have to do something to make the story feel rewarding.

If we don't get some confirmation of what Loki's been through, and where his headspace is, and why it matters for him to love himself, then the story remains pretty shallow and, for me, it's not fulfilling enough. It's not engaging enough. There isn't actually anything to sink my teeth into, so it becomes kind of boring. Maybe it's rewarding to other people, and that's great for them, but like - I need more than whatever this is.

So I'm just like - well, I had a lot of worries about this show, but my being bored wasn't one of them and now there's only two episodes left and am I really not going to get anything out of this, in the long run? No new canons, no new depths or layers, no new information on Loki's experiences? This is it?

I don't dislike it. I didn't start out disliking it, and I probably wont end up disliking it. I mean, there are a lot of good moments, and good things, and fan service-y things that I appreciate. As far as inspiration for fic goes, it's a goldmine, both plot-wise as well as aesthetic-wise. All of that is great. I don't dislike this show.

But I am disappointed in it, and I feel like I'll be watching the next two episodes lacking the sense of anticipation that would make it exciting. I'll still enjoy them, probably, if for nothing else just the sheer Loki content, but whatever it was I felt watching episodes 1 and 2 is gone and I'm sad about that, too. Because I really wanted to feel fulfilled by this series; I wanted it to fill up the void that Loki's death in IW created three years ago. And I just ... don't feel it. Maybe, maybe that'll change over the course of episodes 5 and 6. I don't know.

Everything that I end up enjoying long-term, I think, will come about as a result of my own interpretations and analysis and while theoretically there's nothing wrong with that, if I had known all I'd get out of this series was more headcanons or support for my current headcanons then, well - that's fine, I suppose, but I'll definitely a little bit robbed.

[bloody-bee-tea]

From the Fluff prompt list #1, for MingCheng? “Could you say that again?” “Were you not listening?” “No I was, I just like hearing your voice.”

Jiang Cheng wouldn’t describe himself as vain, but compared to Nie Mingjue he feels absolutely inadequate.

It’s not like Nie Mingjue ever shows him that he thinks the same—quite the opposite really, with how much Nie Mingjue dotes on him—but sometimes Jiang Cheng can’t help but to notice the difference between them.

Nie Mingjue is an active martial artist who likes to lift some weights, too, and it definitely shows. He’s huge and muscular but also light on his feet and Jiang Cheng feels so, so untrained next to him.

And it’s not even like he doesn’t do anythingsakdjfanything. He used to be a swimmer—right until his parents demanded that the trophies he brings home have to be golden or otherwise he’s a failure—so he still has the wide shoulders, but he doesn’t pack much muscles.

He doesn’t have to—being a rhythmic gymnast and all—but sometimes he can’t help but to think that he’s lacking, especially compared to Nie Mingjue.

“I just wish Huaisang would lift some weights every now and then,” Nie Mingjue sighs, and Jiang Cheng tunes back into their conversation. “It would do him some good. He’s all wobbly with no support and he complaints about backpains all the time.”

“That’s true,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he hopes they can drop this topic soon enough.

If they keep talking about this then it’ll only make Jiang Cheng feel worse and he wanted to have a relaxed Saturday. He doesn’t want to have to worry about the fact that his own boyfriend probably thinks him to be absolutely useless when it comes to physical activity.

Jiang Cheng isn’t quite ashamed of the fact that he enjoys gymnastics, but his parents called it a girlish sport often enough that he got self-conscious of it. Not to mention how strangely it’s still regarded to be a male in that sport. He’s not actively keeping it a secret, but he’s also not talking about it, either, and especially not with people who lift weights for fun.

Nie Mingjue will probably think it stupid, too; he complaints enough about the fact that Nie Huaisang watches dancing for Jiang Cheng to be absolutely certain of that.

“Anyway,” Nie Mingjue says and shoulders his bag and Jiang Cheng tries to make it look like he was paying attention all along. “I’m off to the gym. See you later?” he asks and when Jiang Cheng nods he drops a kiss to his head before he’s out the door.

Jiang Cheng tries to not mind that Nie Mingjue doesn’t even ask him if he wants to come along.

He didn’t think Nie Mingjue would think him so useless and such a hindrance, but Jiang Cheng guesses this is only fair.

~*~*~

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue asks, sitting back up in bed and switching on the light.

“Nothing?” Jiang Cheng unsurely asks and stops in his tracks. “Why would something be wrong?”

“First of all, you’ve been strange for a few days now. And second; look at you!”

Jiang Cheng does look down at himself, and then back at Nie Mingjue.

“What?” he defensively asks and Nie Mingjue gives him a look.

“You’re wearing a shirt and pants. To bed. When you normally only sleep in your boxers. So please do tell me what’s wrong, because this cannot be comfortable for you,” Nie Mingjue says, waving his hands around and Jiang Cheng fights the urge to simply turn around and run away.

“Nothing is wrong,” Jiang Cheng tries but he knows that it’s futile.

And it’s not even like Nie Mingjue is wrong.

Usually Jiang Cheng can deal with the fact that Nie Mingjue is absolutely jacked—is into it, even—but lately he feels so damn insecure next to him.

He doesn’t have a six-pack and he doesn’t have that many visible muscles and it’s not like he could lift Nie Mingjue. At least he doesn’t think he could, cause he never tried but that’s beside the point.

The point is that Jiang Cheng is a slob compared to Nie Mingjue and surely it must bother him.

“My heart, I love you, but that is absolute bullshit. Something is very wrong and I want you to tell me. We promised to be honest, right? So be honest. Just tell me what has you all worried and we can work on it.”

“There’s nothing to work on,” Jiang Cheng snaps and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not a—” he cuts himself off but Nie Mingjue raises an eyebrow at him.

“Not a what?” he prompts him when Jiang Cheng doesn’t go on.

“A gym rat,” Jiang Cheng says with a whisper and can’t bear to look at Nie Mingjue. “I’m not even that athletic.”

“So?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng throws his hands up.

“You are!”

“Okay, and?” Nie Mingjue asks, because he clearly doesn’t get it.

“Why do you even like me?”

Nie Mingjue looks obviously confused.

“For many things and none of them have to do with how active you are or aren’t,” Nie Mingjue says with a shrug and Jiang Cheng scoffs.

“Yeah, because I’m not active.”

“And I’m not bothered by it,” Nie Mingjue gives back. “And besides, that’s not entirely true, right?” he then asks and Jiang Cheng freezes.

“What?”

“I mean you are kind of fit, so you must be doing something. And you might not be as muscle-y as I am, because you are more the lean type anyway, but you definitely pack some muscles, not even to mention your flexibility. Clearly you are doing some kind of sport. I can’t say I understand why you simply won’t tell me, but I respect it anyways.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng breathes out, but it doesn’t really make him feel better.

“You wouldn’t—it’s nothing,” he tries to appease but now that they started talking about this, Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to want to drop it.

“You can tell me, you know that, right?” he asks and Jiang Cheng doesn’t quite manage to keep back his scoff.

“Yeah, right,” he mutters and Nie Mingjue looks offended.

“I would never shame you for what you do, no matter what it is.”

“I wish I could believe that but you shame Huaisang plenty for liking dancing,” Jiang Cheng bitterly says.

“I’m not—is that what you think of me?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and he sounds hurt. “That I would shame my brother for liking that?”

“Well, you do,” Jiang Cheng defensively says but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“I don’t. I shame him for only watching it instead of doing it himself; his health isn’t the best and he’s so interested in that sport, but he can’t be bothered to do it himself. Dancing would be great for him; it would enhance his endurance and he wouldn’t get too many muscles which would ruin his aesthetics or whatever he claims and he would get to wear all of his fancy outfits. I just don’t understand why he won’t give it a try.”

Jiang Cheng is so perplexed by this that he simply blinks at Nie Mingjue.

“What now?” Nie Mingjue snaps after a minute, clearly getting defensive himself. “Anything wrong with what I said?”

“You don’t mind if he would dance?”

“Of course not. Why would I? It’s a sport like any other sport. I just want him to get some workout.”

“I do rhythmic gymnastics,” Jiang Cheng blurts out and then presses his lips together.

“Ah,” Nie Mingjue says in surprise. “I guess that makes sense. You do have the body for it.”

“But I don’t compete,” Jiang Cheng adds, feeling like that might be important, too, even though he’s afraid that Nie Mingjue will find fault in that.

He is a very active martial artist after all and he has more than one gold medal.

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue gives back and then pauses. “Wanyin, is this what you’ve been worried about? That I would shame you for that?”

“I—maybe?” Jiang Cheng hesitantly says but he also finally makes his way towards the bed. “It’s just—you’re so—” he gestures at Nie Mingjue. “And I’m not.”

“Just because I like to lift weights doesn’t mean you have to as well. Even if you would, for my sake, it wouldn’t matter, because there’s no sense in doing something you don’t enjoy. If you hate lifting weights but love rhythmic gymnastics, then that’s perfectly alright.”

“And that I don’t compete?”

“Why should you? Sport is something you do for fun; as long as you do have fun during training that’s enough. Competing is just more pressure. I enjoy that, a lot; the whole atmosphere is amazing during a competition but there are enough people in the studio who stated very clearly that they would never ever compete. Even though I’m pretty sure most of them would kick my ass, but it’s perfectly alright that they don’t want to.”

“Is it really?” Jiang Cheng mutters, and it feels a little like he’s floundering at the moment, but he was so certain that Nie Mingjue would take offense that he doesn’t know what to do now that he doesn’t.

“Yes, my heart,” Nie Mingjue says and drags Jiang Cheng up the bed so he can hug him. “It’s so absolutely, perfectly alright. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” He pauses. “Why did you keep it a secret that you’re doing rhythmic gymnastics?”

“It’s just—I’m a guy,” Jiang Cheng says and Nie Mingjue makes an understanding sound.

“I guess it’s not quite that accepted, right? There aren’t that many male gymnasts, correct?”

“Yes. And my parents—” Jiang Cheng trails off but of course Nie Mingjue can fill in the gaps.

“I see,” he mutters and then presses a lingering kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “Well, I don’t mind it at all. I would love to see it, actually, if you are comfortable with that, but no rush. I don’t mean to pressure you. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright, too.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t even know what to say to that, because no one wanted to see him perform yet, but in the end he gives a short nod.

“Eventually,” he says, because he feels like he’ll need time to prepare for that.

“No problem,” Nie Mingjue reassures him and then kisses him softly. “Now go change out of these clothes, I can’t imagine you’re comfortable.”

Jiang Cheng chuckles, because Nie Mingjue is right and he only gets up to be able to shed the clothes before he’s climbing into bed with Nie Mingjue, who pulls him into his side.

“No more worrying, okay?” Nie Mingjue asks, already sounding sleepy and Jiang Cheng kisses his chest.

“Promise,” he gives back. “I love you.”

“Mh,” Nie Mingjue hums. “Could you say that again?”

“Are you already asleep? Or are you simply not listening to me?”

“No, I am, I just like hearing your voice. Especially saying that,” Nie Mingjue gives back and curls a little bit towards Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng has no retort for that, because his heart is too busy beating out of his chest with how happy he is with Nie Mingjue and he vows to do better in the future.

It should be easy with how supportive and understanding Nie Mingjue is anyway.

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[monstersfear]

give a dog a bone // leah & emilio

TIMING: last sunday, when regan sent emilio to play fetch. PARTIES: @phoenixleah & @monstersfear SUMMARY: emilio goes to the library to retrieve regan's bones from leah and makes a wonderful first impression, as always. CONTENT: alcoholism

It took everything he had to peel himself off the floor of his apartment. His phone was switched off again the moment his final message to Regan went through, the rest of the messages ignored entirely. If not for the way she’d worded the ‘request,’ Emilio might have ignored it, too. But… There was a clear threat there. And it was hard for Emilio to ignore a thing like that, hard for him to justify this Leah Ramirez getting hurt so he could drown himself in whiskey and feel sorry for himself. On top of that, if Ari and Kaden were right and something was… altering Regan, she’d probably feel like shit when she came out of it even if she didn’t hurt anyone. So it would be best, he figured, to make sure she didn’t.

But he took the bottle with him. 

He staggered into the library, sniffing as he glanced around. It was empty, save for a woman behind the desk. She looked Hispanic, which was enough for Emilio to decide that she must be Ramirez. Private investigator. Best damn one in town.

Walking over to the desk, he leaned against it and yanked the bottle from his jacket, taking a quick swig of amber liquid before stuffing it back away. He wanted to get this done as quickly as possible so he could go back home and lock his damn door, maybe never leave the apartment again. “You Leah Ramirez? I need — El huesos.”

The second the conversation with Regan seemed to be over, Leah ran down to the scribary to find any piece of iron jewelry she could, just in case.  She wasn’t as stupid as she was stubborn, and she knew Regan’s threats weren’t in vain.  It was time, then, to take as many precautions as she could, starting with laying low the next few days.  She’d wrap up at the library tonight and then hop around friends houses for the next few days, places where Regan wouldn’t know where to find her:  Her sister’s house, her parents’ house, the Vural’s cabin, Nicole’s house… she’d have plenty of options until they all figured out how to get Regan back to normal.  The iron necklace and bracelet would barely be of any protection tonight, but like the noise canceling headphones, they were a start.

A man she didn’t recognize walked into the library as she was wrapping everything up, and at first, she assumed he was just a patron.  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sir.  We actually just closed.  If you want to come back tomorrow, we’ll be open again at 8:00 am”.  Okay, so this dude was clearly drunk.  Maybe he was looking for somewhere to stay?

“We don’t allow food or alcohol in the bui-”, She was in the middle of correcting him when he called her by her name, and then asked for the very thing she was trying to protect.  The deer skull was the only leverage she currently had over Regan, her only possible chance for another shot at getting the one she actually needed. 

She hadn’t expected someone to be sent so promptly. 

“You need to leave.  Now. Ahora mismo. I have nothing that you want.”  She felt the skull against her knees as she leaned against the front desk, staring the man down. 

He wanted this to be easy. He wanted it to be a simple, achievable thing that he could knock out in half an hour, something that would require no thought and no present mind to do. There was no shot at him feeling accomplished when it was done — more likely, he’d feel worse than he had before starting — but if it was over with quickly, at least, he’d stand a better chance at getting home without running into anyone he knew. He wanted it to be simple, but it wasn’t. Nothing ever was.

Her whole demeanor changed when he mentioned the bones. From friendly ‘customer service’ mode to suspicious and protective. Emilio wanted to scream. What was up with people in this town and clinging to bones? If he were a more articulate man — or a more sober one — he might think of the metaphor behind that, of the way people held onto things even when the life was gone from them, of the way he was drunk and mournful because he was doing the same. But he wasn’t articulate and he wasn’t sober. And he wanted to go home.

“No,” he said, “you don’t have anything I want. But you’ve got something I need.” He leaned further against the desk, the bottle in his jacket thudding against the wood. It hit against one of the knives tucked in the pocket beside it as it did so with a sharp ting of metal on glass. The sound wasn’t meant to be a threat; Emilio had no intention of getting violent and was in no state to attempt it. But it could be taken as one all the same.

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Emilio glanced around the library, trying to figure out where the damn bones might be hidden. When he didn’t see any obvious places, he looked back to the librarian. “Look,” he said, words slurring, “if you don’t give me what I came for, it’s bad news for us both. I’m the carrot. The stick’s a lot meaner.” And came with shadow coyotes to boot. “Just — Just give me the pinche bones, and I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.”

The tell tale clink in his pockets when the man moved closer was all Leah needed to know that getting out of this with her skull leverage was not going to be as easy as she wanted it to be.  She tightened her grip on the desk between them, searching around the library for any hint of a viable plan.  She shook her head at the weak metaphor, letting out a scoff.  “The stick is not herself right now.  And you’re indulging her affect by coming here.  Go home. I can deal with the stick just fine”.  

“See, the problem is, even if I had the bones you wanted, I would have no leverage over her to get the bones I actually want if I gave them to you.  She wants these bones, I want the ones she’s obsessed with.”  Had Regan promise bound this man?  Had she threatened him? “How’d she convince you to come here, anyway?  We don’t have to do this, you know.  It can be as easy as you walking away right now.”

She knew she had a dagger in the locked drawer under the computer.  Fire was out of the question in the library- it was too dangerous for the books, but there was always the option of rising his temperature to the point of exhaustion, right?  Where had she left her goddamn phone?

So she knew who had sent him. That was hardly a surprise; after all, how many people would care enough about a pile of old bones to send someone to shake down a librarian to collect them? It might have been laughable if anything was. It might have been amusing if the world  didn’t feel so fucking heavy right now. “You think I’d be here if going home was an option?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest and pretending he actually felt the offense that was painted over his expression. 

But she was stubborn. Everyone in this town was so goddamn stubborn, and the exhaustion clung to Emilio like a physical thing. He scrubbed at his face with his hand, closing his eyes for a moment before yanking the bottle from his pocket again, taking another long swig. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be here. Even on a good day, this errand would have felt like a pointless one, and today was far from a good day. “No,” he said, shaking his head with a heavy sigh, “you don’t have to do this. I do. And I don’t —” He broke off, holding up a finger to indicate a need to pause and using the beat of silence to swallow more of the whiskey. When he pulled the bottle away, the burn settled into his chest, and he swayed just a little. “I really don’t want it to be a fight.” As if he was capable of one, in his current state. He didn’t know who she was — didn’t know what she was, but it wouldn’t take a lot to take him out at the moment. Maybe that was why he hadn’t tried to argue with Regan before embarking on this particular mission; self destruction was hard to shake even when he wasn’t in a state like this.

“I can’t leave without them,” he said, eyes darting around the library again, “so you’re going to have to either give them to me, or I’m going to have to take them. We can do this the easy way. I don’t mind it.”

“You speak as if choosing a library as a fun place to pass the time is outlandish”, Leah accused, only a tiny bit offended.  Some people just didn’t realize how great and immersive libraries could be, though she guessed that was their problem.

Her eyes followed his bottle, and she pressed her lips together, annoyed.  She reached out to grab it, attempting to stop it in its tracks before it got back into his pocket.  “I’m sorry, you must not have heard me over your threats. I’ll say it again. There is no food or drinks allowed in the library.”  She let the bottle go and gave him a look, the stern kind you might give a child who stole a cookie.  “If you don’t want it to be a fight then get off my property.  You don’t get to come here making demands and then leave with a gift.  That’s not how this works.  If Regan wants the bones, she can come get them herself.” 

She studied the man, taking a deep breath and tried once again to figure out what kind of hold Regan had over him.  Kaden did say she was promise bounding people, so it wasn’t out of the question.  “I’m not interested in negotiating with you, unless you care to tell me why you can’t possibly leave without them”.  A thought flashed through her mind.  If he was promised bound to get the bones, would him leaving with a random skull he thought was correct fulfill that promise?  “Otherwise, I’m going to ask you one more time to leave, and then I’ll stop being so polite.” 

“It is,” Emilio replied, rolling his eyes. Unsurprisingly to anyone who knew him, reading had never been a hobby he engaged in. It wasn’t even something he was particularly good at. His parents had taught him how to read, but not particularly well. And certainly never for pleasure. The library was nothing to him but a building currently housing something he desperately needed. 

And it was harder to get than he’d hoped it would be. 

She reached for his bottle, and Emilio’s efforts to keep it from her grasp were surprisingly deft, considering how intoxicated he was. He twisted his body away from hers, curling around the bottle protectively as he slipped it back into his inside pocket and shot her a dark glare. “Then give me what I came for and I won’t have to be in the library anymore.” Her stern look only served to darken his glare, and he rolled his eyes with a frustrated grunt. “I — You don’t want her to come herself. She made that pretty clear. I’m here, doing — Trying to do something…” His words came out tangled, tongue heavy with the whiskey he’d been coating it with since the warehouse fire. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, looking momentarily exhausted. 

“I owe her a favor,” he admitted, voice flat now. “So you can ask me to leave as rudely as you want, but unless I’m leaving with those bones, there’s nothing you can do to me that’ll be worth whatever happens if I leave without them. I don’t understand why — They’re bones. They’re just pinche bones. And I — I want to go home. So, just… Please. Okay? Por favor dámelos a mí.” 

The man was right, in a way.  Leah didn’t want Regan to come.  Not until she was ready for her, anyway.   Not until she had back up, or until Regan was willing to trade one skull for another.  It was an oversight not to expect her to act so swiftly.

“If you owe her a favor than fulfill another one.  There are ways you can get around favors!  Think of how she worded the request… Think of…” This was not working.  Asking nicely wasn’t getting this stranger out of the library any quicker than staring at him would have.  And while it was perfectly clear now that he was obligated by a favor to Regan, she was determined not to go down without a fight.  She cared about Regan too much to give up her only leverage so easily.  “They’re bones that could save her life.  You can keep dismissing them as just bones but it just shows how ignorant you are to the situation.  And that’s exactly why I can’t give them to you.” She swallowed, staring at the man with flared nostrils.  She looked him up and down and then, much too quickly for human comfort, absorbed a good amount of his body heat.  She raised her eyebrows quickly, pursing her lips.  “I’m normally not so… cold to my patrons, but you understand, I’m sure.”

Emilio rolled his eyes at the suggestions. They weren’t bad ones, really — he’d utilized the idea of loopholes with the deal with Levi more than once — but he was far too drunk to try to think of any kind of way around them now. And he shouldn’t have to. Handing over some dusty bones to a stranger so that he could take them to a banshee who really wanted them should have been a goddamn no brainer, but Leah Ramirez was stubborn. 

“Bones aren’t going to save anyone’s life,” he snapped. The anger was a familiar thing. If he weren’t so irritated, he might have been grateful to her for drawing it out of him. “Christ, this is — This is stupid. If you won’t give them to me, I’m going to have to take them. I tried to be nice. I tried.” He took a step forward, clumsy and unsteady, but determined all the same. But… something shifted. A sudden cold pierced through him, sending a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t hard to figure out what was happening; not when she practically told him. Gritting his teeth against the newfound cold and hating the way it was attempting to combat his buzz, he shot her a dark look. “Me estás matando,” he said lowly. “You want to save her life? You’re going to cost me mine. Is that a trade you can live with? I go back to her without those bones, and what do you think happens to me?” 

He didn’t think it was true. Nothing he knew about Regan suggested she’d kill him intentionally, and while the promise he’d made to her would have dire consequences if broken, he was only meant to protect her and the coyote bones. Not bringing these specific bones back to her wouldn’t break that promise, he didn’t think, and if it did, it wouldn’t break it significantly enough to inspire anything deadly to happen to him. The worst he might face was another coyote attack or another scream, but he doubted either would prove fatal. But… Leah didn’t know that. Leah didn’t know the specifics of the bind tying him to Regan. He wasn’t even sure if she knew precisely how Regan was acting at the moment. He was hoping her conscience would kick in here, hoping she’d take pity on his situation and just… give him what he came for. If she didn’t, he’d still do his damndest to take it by force, but his chances felt a lot slimmer now that he knew the kind of (literal) heat she was packing. Slimmer still with the alcohol still buzzing through him. 

He wanted to do this the easy way. He wanted to finish here so he could go home and crawl back into his grief-filled haze. He wanted a lot of things he knew he probably wouldn’t get. 

“She- she wouldn’t.  She wouldn’t, not even like this”.  But Leah knew that there was a chance that the man was right.  She didn’t even know what like this was, how was she so sure this thing inside her wouldn’t turn her into a murderer as well.  Hell, Leah was willing to couch surf for the time being just to avoid that fate herself.  She closed her eyes, frustrated, and let out a breath through her nose.  Slowly and reluctantly, she gave him his heat back. “I don’t want you to be hurt. I don’t… people being hurt is exactly what I’m trying to prevent.”  

She took a step backward and looked down at the skull, safe and snug in it’s shelf.   Tears filled her eyes as she looked it over, knowing the jig was up.  She couldn’t put this man’s life at risk, especially when she had no guarantee that the deer skull would provide any solid leverage, anyway.  After a beat and a shaky breath, she pulled it out and held it in her hands, not yet putting it down or offering it to the man.  “I have a favor to ask if I let you take this”.  Leah thought about the irony of asking someone for a favor who’s own life currently depended on owing someone. . “You have a chance to get close to her when you bring this back, and if I want to help her be who she once was, I need information.  I know you don’t know me from a hole in the wall.  You might not even know her either.  But any information  I can get- especially about any coyote skull she might be speaking to… it could help.  If you’d consider… she’d end up being very grateful if you helped bring her back, so…” She put the skull on the desk and shoved her hands into her pockets, ducking her head to catch his eyes.  “Please”. 

“How sure are you?” Emilio challenged, hoping the bluff would hold. And it seemed to. He saw the emotions dance across her face — reluctance, guilt, uncertainty — and the warmth rushed back into his bones. The way his shoulders slumped as it happened was real relief, not a show; he hadn’t been sure the play would work, and he hadn’t been sure what his next move would have been if it hadn’t. He was too drunk to fight even a baseline human with confidence that he’d come out on top, much less someone with whatever capability she had. “Believe it or not, that’s what I came here trying to prevent, too.” He wouldn’t have come if not for the way Regan asked it. You don’t want me to be the one to do it. Even as drunk as he was, he knew a threat when he saw one. 

He watched the way she stepped back, watched her bend down to fetch the skull. Another surge of relief washed over him, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Stuffing his hands into his pockets as she spoke, he fiddled with their contents — the blades, the weaponry, the bottle — and waited for her to get to the point and hand him the damn skull so he could go home. Suspicion stood the hairs on the back of his neck on end, and he tensed. “Doing favors for people is how I ended up fetching skulls from librarians two bottles deep,” he pointed out, but after a careful moment, he shrugged. “I’m not promising anything,” he said carefully. “I’ll try to find out what I can. But… I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Think she sees me as more of a dog than a business partner.” He took the skull quickly, before she could change her mind, and stuffed it under his jacket. Regan could complain about the rough treatment if she wanted, but he was far too drunk to be gentle. 

It wasn’t a promise.  Hell, it wasn’t even a hope, but at least it was an attempt.  An attempt was all Leah could ask for, she supposed, because the situation was way more tricky and nuanced than she first understood.  And if he wasn’t able to get anything, Leah would have to resort to plan B.  To going back to Regan’s when she least suspected it and grabbing the coyote skull herself.  There were plenty of places it could be, but her yard was always littered with bones.  Was it possible she’d let it rest there at night?   Would she be so careless with it? It wasn’t an ideal plan, and the fact she got away unscathed the first time was probably a testament to the fact that she shouldn’t press her luck, but she couldn’t just sit by and watch Regan be destroyed from the inside out.  Not after all she’d been through.  Not after all the work she’d done.  She’d need a getaway driver- preferably someone who had no idea what she was doing.

But she could think about that later.  For now, she watched as the man- God, she didn’t even know his name, stuffed the skull under his jacket haphazardly.  She licked her lips, uttering her next words before she had the chance to stop herself.  “There’s a vial of phoenix tears in it for you if you get me something worthwhile.  Don’t ask me where I got them.”  It wouldn’t be obvious where she got them, right?  

It was clear that the librarian cared about Regan. That was probably why she’d sent Emilio in her stead, even if she’d used the threats as a front for it. He’d seen glimpses of the real Regan peek through when she’d dragged him to Kaden’s, seen how distressed she became when whatever the thing possessing her was went to war with whatever she was without it. Emilio didn’t know her outside of what she was now, didn’t know what she was like when she wasn’t like this, but Kaden and Ari both seemed to believe that it was different enough to warrant suspicion that an outside force was responsible. Leah, too, seemed inclined to agree. And… maybe underneath all the grief and anger and whiskey in his system now, there was some part of Emilio that was sympathetic to that plight. A person deserved a chance to be who they were. Not who someone or something else turned them into.

He offered her a curt nod, pretending it was only the promise of phoenix tears driving the decision to agree. They would come in handy, but there was a fair chance Emilio would’ve said yes without them. “If anything comes up,” he said, already inching backwards towards the door, “I’ll know where to find you.”