#it doesnt put quite as bad a taste in your mouth as thinking about..

[wormteeth2004]

yknow looking back on it with what i know now, I'm kinda glad i didn't grow up with cable tv and the disney Channel really. I'm glad a lot of my childhood nostalgia isn't really based around child actors who were pretty much all exploited

[mysicklove]

CW: reader sucking nanamis dick lol, me playing up nanamis old manness bc i am picturing him as a middle aged man, no power dynamics, nanami cums on your face n realizes he may have a kink, reader is ":3" coded, unedited for now bc i need sleep

a/n: wrote this cause im down bad. not written well tho LOL

"Are you sure you like this? I dont want your jaw to hurt..." Nanami questions, furrowed browed as he gently traces the skin near your temple.

You were kneeling in front of him, hands placed on his thighs and grinning at him. "I want to. I really, really want to. Been thinking about it all day."

"You are quite eager."

"Arent you?" Your eyes trail to cock in your hand, completely hard and flushing a shade of red. His work attire was still on, and you just unbuttoned his pants enough so that only his dick was free. You had a thing for the work attire - you couldnt help it, he looked incredibly good in a suit.

In return, Nanami just rubs at his mouth, not denying it. Then he pets your hair, settling in his chair. "Okay, but I wont be mad if you grow uncomfortable."

You rolls your eyes at him, pressing your cheek against his cock. "You coddle me too much. I will not die from sucking dick, Kento."

He stays quiet at this, just silently brushing your hair back into his palms, holding it away from your face. It was polite, all things considering. You smile at him, while your tongue drags from the base of his cock to the tip.

You continue to prep yourself, licking and gently kissing the shaft, while Nanami watches in silence. Then, you put your mouth over him and begin to suckle the tip. A sigh is let out from the man, and he resists the urge to shut his eyes, wanting to watch the lewd sight.

Your head find a steady motion - bobbing up and down until you gag and pull off. He pretends that the sound doesnt turn him on, feeling bad that something uncomfortable for you sends blood rushing to his groin.

When you pull away, slightly panting, he rubs at your lips, now coated in saliva. "Are you okay?"

"You're doing it again, Kento. I am not a child - I've sucked other mens dick before."

He blinks at this, before frowning and forcing you back on his cock by your hair. But, when he heard your giggles from below, he realized quickly that you only said that to tease him. He sighs at that, shaking his head. "Do you like making me upset?"

You hum around his cock, letting drool purposefully fall from your mouth and down till it reached his balls - it was always bettter when it was sloppier, or so you have heard. But, you pull away quickly to answer him, tilting your head to the side so that you can continue to lick his shaft.

"Kinda fun to - you get this look in your eyes. Its weirdly sexy seeing you mad."

His non dominant hand goes back to caressing the skin on your face and his eyes soften. "I would never actually be mad at you."

You make eyecontact with him as you stick your tongue out and swirl it around the redden tip, ignoring the salty taste of pre. Then you give the head another kiss, pressing your nose against it. "I know. You're too soft around me. Its cute, I dont mind it."

"I'm glad," he breathes, and then he pauses, gulping, and looking away, "Then if you dont mind, can you go a little farther down? If its not too uncomfortable, of course."

You obey with little hesistation, mouth coming closer to the dark patch of hair on his lower abdomen. This time he groans out, and cant help but shut his eyes at the warm feeling of your throat. You try your best to focus, but seeing your lovers face contort with pleasure was too pretty to not watch.

His hips move from his chair, slightly bucking into your mouth like he couldnt control them. It makes a lewd noise in the back of your throat, and he groans hearing it. You continue your movements, and with each moment, his cock gets wetter from the amount of saliva coated on it.

Large, callused finger tips run over your neck, feeling the way his dick creates a small bulge, and he lets out a shaky breathe. "Fuck. Wow, you are something. Doing so well, thank you, thank you, fuck."

Tears are beggining to prick at your eyes from the lack of air, but still you try your best to nod at him, even if the action sends him groaning out again.

He was growing overheated from the whole thing, and you watch as he removes his tie and unbuttons the top part of his shirt. The sight makes you slightly moan, and it sends a vibration up Nanami's spine.

When you pull away for another breathe, he lets out a noise close to a whine, and you hold back a chuckle. "Looks whose the one eager now." You tease, and his cheeks pinken slightly as he looks away.

"You really treat me so well."

"You think I am good at sucking dick?"

A lewd way to put it, and Nanami wouldnt phrase it like that, but alas, he nods his head, before guiding you back onto his cock. You in return laugh, and immediately go back to work.

With each bob of your head, he gets more into it, now slightly pushing you down farther by your hair. You don't mind it, and Nanami begins to pant from the pleasure, deep and breathlessly. The sound only spurs you on.

It doesnt take much longer for his abdomen to tighten up, and the feeling of his orgasm to approach. You could tell he was close to coming, even without a warning from the way his grunts seem to grow louder. So you continue your pace, trying your best to hold out without a breathe until he cums down your throat.

But, to much of your suprise, he pulls you off from him by your hair. You try to protest, wanting him to cum in your mouth, but he simply grabs at his cock with his other hand and pumps it a couple of times before aiming it at your face.

Cum shoots out of the wet head, and you are forced to shut one of your eyes as the white liquid lands on your upper cheek and eyelid. The rest lands on a multitude of places on your face, causing you to squint your one opened eye. He groans the entirity of it, and so you let him cum all over your face, finding the noise cute.

But when he is done, you simply wipe off your eyes, leaving the rest for now, and blink up at him with a small frown. "You know it would be alot cleaner if you would have came down my throat."

Nanami just stares at you, eyes scanning your face. Then, you notice the tint of red that danced on his cheeks and ears. Your face lights up at the realization. "I knew you had some sort of kink. You're not as vanilla as I thought, Kento! Who would have thought cumming on my face would do it for you."

"You just look...so pretty like this." A laugh falls from your lips, as your eyes travel back to his cock that was beginning to harden again. Now, it was time for the real deal - you almost squeal in excitement as you drag him to the bedroom.

[multiplicity-positivity]

(advice ask, i think? or just, validation? i just want to talk about it)

this may make literally zero sense so im gonna. preface this with an apology for that potential

so like two weeks ago i (i am the host) had a breakdown REALLY bad and it like put up a barrier or something, which we've had happen before but not for this long- everyone's been completely locked off from front, i've barely seen ANYONE else insys and i cannot get out of front no matter how hard i try

it feels like frontstuck but in a different font, this doesnt feel like normal frontstuck

i almost feel like the system is gone, or disappearing, or even wasn't there in the first place

i just dont know what to do, about that? i dont really know what im asking for here if im being honest, but if you have any thoughts or advice they'd be greatly appreciated

(thank you in advance for either your reply or just for reading this, whichever it may be /g)

Hi! We’re sorry to hear things have been kind of difficult for you/your system lately. We’re not quite sure what kind of advice we can offer you, but we can try!

It sounds like you’ve been under a lot of stress lately. For many systems (including our own!) lots of stress can disrupt system communication and make it harder to connect and interact with other members. For us, it takes time, grounding, and calming strategies in order to reach a point where things have settled down enough for us to interact with each other again.

So we’ll offer some things you can do that might help! Remember every system’s different, so what works for us may not work for you/y’all:

1 - if you’re spending a lot of time worrying about your system or questioning your plurality, stop. Take a step back. Try to focus on things that make you happy and try not to think about the rest of your headmates for a few days. It might initially feel like you’re abandoning your system by doing this… but that’s not actually the case! Prioritizing your own mental health and well-being is very important, and taking a step back from worrying about your system might be able to help you AND your headmates overall.

2 - learn some grounding techniques, and practice doing them even when you’re not overwhelmed. Making a habit of grounding yourself can make it easier for you to ground yourself when you’re feeling stressed! What works best for our system is REST - we wrote a post detailing this technique before!

Things that also help us are:

5-4-3-2-1: in the world around you, notice 5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 (or just one) thing you can smell, and 1 thing you can taste. This helps center us in the real world and pull us away from overwhelming/snowballing emotions!

Something sharp: Eating a sour candy, holding a piece of ice, or finding some other sort of sharp/vibrant, non-harmful experience can work to “shock” us out of our spiral and help ground us in reality. We usually follow up a sharp experience with 5-4-3-2-1 to help solidify our awareness of the present moment!

Breathe: Noticing your breathing and counting breaths can really be helpful for calming down. We take deep breaths in through our nose for 4 seconds, then put with our mouth for 8. We repeat this for a few minutes until we feel a bit better. It can help clear our mind and stops us from unknowingly hyperventilating or taking lots of ragged/shallow breaths, which we’re prone to doing when we’re overwhelmed!

3 - meet your own needs. It may help bolster communication and help make it easier to contact your headmates if you are making sure to take proper care of yourself. We just wrote a little Check Up self care post which might help you in this regard - here it is!

4 - once you’ve managed to get yourself in a better place mentally, after taking a break from focusing on your system and instead focusing on meeting your own needs, maybe at that point try reestablishing contact with your headmates. Maybe you can try writing them letters, letting them know that you care about them and you’ve been thinking about them and filling them in with what’s been going on in your world. We have some parts who do this when they’re feeling disconnected from other members! You can also check out our post on establishing contact with headmates, which may have some useful tools to try out.

We’re sorry this got so long, but we hope that something here will be useful for you! We’re wishing you the very best with trying to reconnect with your system - going through something like this can definitely be scary, but we promise you’re not alone! Lots of systems encounter this sort of thing from time to time. Good luck with everything - we really do hope things get better for you soon!

🌷 Corrie and 💫 Parker

[literaila]

always, kitchen floor

loki x gn! reader 

summary/request: reader is tony’s sibing, they’ve had a fight with him. loki just happens to be there... and again, a while later. 

content warning: alcohol, fighting, sibling things, murder. 

*

so you weren’t expecting the crash.

so you weren’t exactly the picture of grace on the floor.

so you weren’t supposed to be in here.

it’s not like he knew that. but what he did know was that as soon as he bashed into the room, you were falling towards the floor.

the small chuckle you could hear from behind the cabinet did not soothe any anger you were feeling. it was just digging itself a deeper hole in your chest, just making itself a home while whoever had scared you laughed along. it might’ve made you angrier.

“it’s alright,” an unrecognizable voice said, low and sour. someone was moving around. you didn’t even attempt to get up off the floor. you didn't care. 

“i’ve been told i have that effect,”

an audible sigh from you made the movement stop.

you closed your eyes, rapped your head against the floor softly. this was only one of the many things you couldn't deal with right now. a human interaction, a conversation. an effort. maybe you’d drunk a bit too much, maybe this was a dream.

you really didn’t want to get up. you were hoping for a hallucination. anything non-real.

“do i know you?” you croak out instead of crying. at least, if you’re going to die, you’ll get to know who killed you. at least, if you have to do this now, you can call the bastard by their name. 

“probably,” the voice sings out. perfect.

probably.

you stop your head, squeeze your eyes until they sting. you’re not sure why you’re not supposed to be in here again, but maybe it has something to do with this.

meeting perfect strangers you probably know.

“do you have a name?” you croak— again —your patience gone from every trace of your body. your effort extinguished from the fire that is building in your chest. the fire that's been there a while. 

“the god of mischief.”

you sit up. only a little. just enough to lean your head towards the voice.

it’s not like you were expecting that response.

“excuse me?” you say in your half-deflated, half surprised voice. your neck is straining from the glance you’re trying to get at the voice, but you keep attempting to lift your head

the footsteps start again, and it’s only a moment before the person comes into view.

before you see them, you hear the bells ringing in your head. this isn’t your house, this isn’t their house. you don’t know this person, and you’re acting completely sane.

it’s honestly not that bad of a situation.

it only takes one more pinch of your ligaments for your eyes to meet their face.

for your brain to touch them with all the memories you have.

probably.

yeah, well, probably was right.

maybe you’re starstruck for a moment, maybe your eyes widen, and maybe you’re staring at this giant person in front of you for way too long.

it doesn’t matter, because in what seems like a second to you, you lay back down. close your eyes.

“i’ve seen you on the news,” you say, a nonchalant mention, a passing sentence.

you were wrong, then. an alien interaction. 

the god of mischief— actually, if the news anchor from earlier had anything to say about it —is standing right next to you. right next to your practically dead body, and you don’t move an inch.

you’re sure you can feel his eyes on you, but you don’t check. who cares, anyway? hes going to kill you soon. 

“have you?” he asks, an annoying disruption to your wallowing.

you grunt, don’t say anything else.

it’d be nice not to die in your own home. at least then no one will have to clean up any blood. they can sell the apartment again. it’d be nice to watch your brother's face as a ghost when he realizes. it’d be nice to get your revenge in the form of a bloodstain on the hardwood. it's a terrible thought that almost fills you with glee.

loki, who moves past you, opening cabinets and carrying around a ridiculous scepter (?) does not turn to look at you when he asks

“you’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

your snort is nothing more than a yes. is it really that obvious? i mean, yes, you look pretty bad, but that shouldn’t indicate to him that you’re in the wrong place.

he shouldn’t know that already.

“what makes you say that?”

loki puts down the bottle he’d been messing with, some expensive thing your brother would kill him for touching. not that you’re going to tell him that, you don't really mind. he turns and bangs his scepter against the ground, not completely on accident. “this countertop is engraved ‘tony stark’”

you roll your eyes, but he doesn’t notice.

“and, from what i’ve seen on the news” he teases the unfamiliar word around his lips “you aren’t him”

“ha,” you say, voice void of any emotion. it must really be that obvious, even to a god who has only been on earth for a few days and has never met you before. even to you, who’s been trying to catch up to tony for so long. “you’ve got me,” 

you grab the bottle you have next to you, the bottle you’ve been cradling all night in your hands like its some childhood blanket you dont want to let go of, and take a sip. its hard on the floor, and that fact is maybe the only thing that could actually convince you to sit up at this moment. 

so you do, and you look loki straight in the eyes while taking another sip. 

theres still half a bottle left, you dont really need to slow down. 

loki looks amused, looks so much less threatening than you would’ve thought after watching him get a group of well over a hundred people to kneel before him. so much less threatening without his words to back him up. or maybe, thats what makes him a villain. 

he looks kind of cute. 

“can i help you?” you say then, looking him in the eyes, bottle in hand. its your best impression of a salesperson, but he doesn't know that. hes just a god, after all, hes just a murder, definitely. 

“actually yes,” he moves towards you, scepter banging, his voice a slow river. “i was looking for someone-” 

“if its tony, you’re fresh out of luck, mr. mischief,” you sigh and stand up, pretending not to notice the substantial difference in heights between the two of you. “it would seem i’ve run him off,” you pause, take a sip, hold your finger up in a gesture for him to wait. “must’ve been my ceaseless charm.” 

loki doesnt say anything, just watches you with irritating eyes and waits for you to take another drink. you do, but not because of him. you’re thirsty, obviously. 

you hate that hes already predicting your movements, you hate that he looks so calm. you hate that if you werent still in your right mind you would probably tackle him without a moments notice. 

still, you watch him anyway. this isnt scary. nothing is scary right now, not even the prospect of death and the murderer in the room. not when you’ve just been left alone in this stupid building while tony runs off to do something else. 

not when your voice still hurts from screaming at him. 

“when will he be back?” loki asks, interrupting your thoughts and looking you up and down. any other day, you might’ve taken it as a compliment, might’ve smiled at him.

“never, if i had anything to say about it.” 

loki doesnt hesitate. “you seem awfully angry for such an angelic-looking person,” 

you snort, turn around to go searching through the cupboards again. “and you seem awfully murdery for a god,” 

“you’d be surprised,” he moves forward, leans his scepter against a chair, and continues to watch you. something about this, something about him is easing that feeling in your chest. the annoyance is almost gone, you know, if it werent for the fact that hes still certainly going to kill you. 

you know that he’d brainwashed other people, maybe thats what was happening now. 

you grunt instead of answer and grab a glass. its strange, this need you feel to keep him from murdering you. loki watches with curious eyes as you poor some of your bottle in the glass, then offer it to him. 

in fact, his eyes almost bludge out of his head as soon as you lift it towards him. 

“you’re giving this to me?” 

you smirk instead of scoffing, as a peace offering. “is it really that obvious?” 

he doesnt acknowledge the snide but takes the glass with careful hands. maybe he thinks humans have murderous cups. maybe hes just very untrusting. it doesnt matter, it makes you smile anyway. 

you grab the bottle, now more than half gone, and take a sip as loki thinks deeply about this drink you’ve given him. at least he isnt asking you why you’re angry anymore. 

“is it good?” he asks while staring at the contents of the glass. 

“you could just try it, you know.” 

he quirks a brow. sets the glass down on the counter. takes a step back. “how do i know you havent poisoned it?” 

you set your bottle down, lean your hands on the counter, and lean closer to him in a challenge. “you, quite literally, just watched me pour it.” 

loki considers this, tilts his head, and then steps forward and takes the glass. you laugh when he sniffs at it, but watch with hopeful eyes as he finally takes a sip. 

then promptly gags. 

“humans are disgusting creatures,” he says while gagging, moving far away from the glass. 

“and thats why you’ve come to conquer us, right?” you’re still smirking, still sipping, and still wondering what the hell this god is doing here. 

“think of it as a favor,” hes wincing, opening his mouth in what looks like an effort to get the taste out of his mouth. but still, he doesnt threaten you, doesnt curse you out, doesnt accuse you of poisoning him again. but then, he looks up. “in return, you might tell me where stark is?” 

there. thats it. no threatening, no murdering, no accusation. but still, he just wants something. your brother, of course. 

whats different from usual? 

“i dont know,” you answer, smile gone, moving away. you make sure to take the bottle with you, wherever you turn to go. wherever you want to run away to. 

you dont know, you’re not sure. this place is so big, and all of it is a prison you’ll never actually leave. the curse of blood relations. 

loki though, stops you before you can even attempt to leave, before you can make your escape before you start sobbing to this god who isnt even here for you. 

really, you should be thankful, really, you shouldnt care this much. really, you should’ve left ten minutes ago. you’re not even supposed to be here. 

the thought fills you with dread. effort, effort and pain. 

“you dont know?” he asks, doubtful. as if he knows you, as if he can already tell you’re lying. you scoff, then scoff again. damn the god of mischief, and damn your brother. arrogance does not look good on anyone. 

you try to push past him, shaking your head with hurt eyes that arent really for him. you try to move forward, but hes so much bigger than you, and hes got the upper hand. he knows you wont try to murder him, no matter what he wants to do to everyone on earth. 

“you are related to him, are you not?” another question, another shot of fuel to the fire that you thought had burned out. to the flame inside of you that doesnt seem to leave. 

“i dont like that you know that,” you say it softly, much softer than you mean to, and without noticing take a step back. put up the walls, so to say. get away from this alien that knows more about you than you do him. guard yourself before you actually get hurt. 

dont give him yet another reason to yell at you. 

“its not hard to guess. you have...erm” he pauses, looking small, looking more nervous, looking anything but godly. “the same mannerisms. and you talk a bit like each other.” 

you frown. dammit. 

“also, the way you talk of him reminds me of my brother.” 

you look up then, look up and see this god, this alien, this murderer that you dont even know. is he drunk now? you wouldnt have thought him to be such a light-weight. 

“okay...” maybe you’re weirded out, or maybe you’re tired, but you try to move away from him anyway. this is effort, and you dont need it. 

“you really dont know?” loki says, before moving out of your way. he sighs, looks defeated now. you’re not lying, but something in you kind of wants you to be. just so he’ll leave you alone, of course. just for some peace. 

just so he stops frowning at the floor. god, you dont even know him. 

and you, you just dont understand. hes the villain, hes evil, so why is he looking so innocent? why arent you scared of him? why havent you run in terror yet?

maybe you’re about to ask something, but loki moves first. he steps back, or forward, and grabs the glass you gave him, again. takes another sip. he doesnt gag this time, doesnt change his expression at all. 

“i thought you hated it?” you ask, shocked by this small thing, hurt still, by his words. maybe by his defeated look. 

loki sighs, smirks, does something with his face you cant comprehend. “its better with disappointment.” 

now its your turn to sigh. you cant leave this alien alone in tony’s kitchen. that’d be rude, plus, curiosity is human. 

its not his fault, really, that he needs to murder your brother. 

you go back, back to the counter, back to the floor, back to loki with his sad eyes and your bottle. you just go back, sitting down on the floor, where you were when he came in, and waiting for him to join you. 

it doesn’t take long, you can feel his cool from the five feet of distance between the two of you. 

its a moment before you ask. “do you really need my brother? i can probably call him.” an olive branch, so to say. 

loki laughs, chortles, something. maybe you’re feeling the effects of the alcohol now. he doesnt speak for a moment, just looks around, observing the room once again. you look with him, wait for his answer, hope its “no”. 

“no, not really.” he pauses, sighs. “well, yes. but, you seem very opposed to seeing him, so i’m guessing talking isnt on the table?” 

“you’d be right,” you take another sip, give him a smile you dont really mean. 

you’re not even sure why you’re here now. this is surreal. this is stupid of you. its in the name. 

“is he really as bad as he seems?” loki asks, tracing something on the floor. maybe gods are similar to humans, because you think you’ve seen this somewhere else. 

you laugh, though, anyway, and forget everything. “not really. hes sort of a good person, he just.. doesnt come off well.” to say the least.  

never has. never liked you much in the first place, but you have memories of him gifting you toys when you were kids. you have laughs, smiles. you had a family, once upon a time. 

you dont tell loki that though, you have enough sense not to. 

“i wonder if my brother would say the same thing about me?” 

and something about the way he says it, something about his face, about his words on the news, all of it. all of it reminds you of where you are, reminds you of who you are, and who you’re trying so hard not to be. 

emotionally compromised, you’re sure. this is a stupid thing to be doing. 

“well, you were going to murder me.” its a joke, but its better than what you wanted to say. its better than the truth you want to tell to this stranger you’ve just met. this god who feels peaceful somehow, behind all the terror. 

loki scoffs, so you know its okay, so you know you havent said the wrong thing yet. you know you havent gone insane, not yet, not now. 

“i would never murder someone so beautiful,” 

and maybe its the alcohol, maybe its your fight with your brother, maybe its loki’s kind words, maybe its everything. maybe you really are insane. maybe you’re angry enough for this to seem okay. maybe you’re stronger than you think, than tony thinks, to be here. maybe it’ll turn out okay. 

it doesnt matter, because the next thing you say, changes lots of things. 

“i guess you’re not so bad.” 

* 

“i’m old enough-” 

“you’re a child.” 

“tony, you dont get to decide whats best for me! in case you forgot, you’re only my brother. not my dad, he already died-” 

“in case you forgot, i’m in charge. you’re the most irresponsible, reckless person, and you’re not leaving here until i say so.” 

“you dont just get to decide-” 

“you will stay here. try not to mess anything else up.” 

*

2 years later.

the hallway is cold while you speed through it. 

you’re not actually moving that fast, but everyone else insists on keeping the air conditioning on at all times, so even the slightest of movements invites the goosebumps to attack your arms. 

maybe you’ll complain some more about it today. its a trivial thing you care about. it matters. 

what else matters? well, theres a meeting-- one you’re late to, who cares? theres a meeting and you were supposed to be there over a half an hour ago. 

but, to be fair, you were sleeping, everyone knows you were sleeping-- what else do you do during the days when they dont invite you anywhere? so why, honestly, would they schedule a meeting for now? why would they expect you to be awake? 

why are you so goddamn late. 

these are the irritating thoughts that get you moving faster to the conference room. these are the things you can think about while you prepare your excuse out loud, and hope that no one is listening. 

and these are the thoughts that you’re thinking as you crash through the door. 

literally. 

“oops,” you mutter before looking up. this is normal for you, but, you could’ve picked a better time to fall on the floor, or any other time rather. you’re already in enough trouble as is, you dont need the shame on top of that. 

it takes a moment, but your eyes glance forward, cautious. they scan the windows, the chairs you can barely see, and hesitantly, they look at the people sitting in them. 

tony, of course, is the first one you see. head of the table as usual. arrogant and staring at you like only a brother can. 

and then, with one more tilt of your head, you see someone else. you see him, sitting next to thor, next to all of these people who are staring at you-- most of them with amusement, all of them with amusement. you see him. 

hes here. 

but, you... you thought? you cant even get up-- now. because now you’re on the floor, and now those memories are flooding back and now, oh god, your brother is coming over to you and you’re still on the floor. 

this is ridiculous, this is impossible, and this is so so embarrassing. 

“loki,” tony starts as he reaches a hand out to you, throwing you a glance that is completely rude and not necessary. “this is y/n, our clumsiest avenger.” you’re sure you can hear him mutter something after that, and judging by the snickers across the room, you’re guessing it wasnt good. none of this is good. 

as soon as you’re standing next to him, you elbow him. small enough no one could see. he deserves it, and honestly, you need it. at least, you can get this shock, these pricks of pain on your heart, out somehow. 

“sorry,” you say, maybe to everyone, maybe to yourself. but you’re still looking at him, and hes still looking at you. you cant stop staring, cant stop, wont stop. 

you wonder if hes thinking the same thing you are. if he remembers like you do. 

loki stands then, presence of a god, smile of a bastard, lips that you’re sure you recognize. is this the same person? the same god of mischief? is this him? really? 

“hi, loki, lovely to meet you.” 

and, hes definitely got to be kidding you. hes definetly got to be joking, right now. 

you dont reach out to grab his hand, you dont move away from tony, and you dont even try to hide the glare from your eyes. you dont even attempt to make an effort. 

really? i mean, really? hes going to just.. 

okay, fine. fine. breathe, smile, breathe, yell. 

theres nothing you want more than to scream at him, in so many ways, for so many reasons. 

“yes, sorry, i dont shake hands. just bodies.” 

theres a chorus of clearing throats across the room. you pretend not to notice. instead, you smile at loki, pretend to also not to notice the threatening eyes tony is trying to throw you. pretend, again and again, that you dont know who this is. 

loki’s hand slowly falls, and he glances toward his brother worriedly, but even that couldnt annoy you more than his face does at this moment. 

“i’ll let you decide how, my prince.” you snide, smile, hate. 

and then, you walk to your sit and promtly sit down. you dont bother to look up from where your glance has landed on the floor. 

and you remain like that for the rest of the meeting. its fine, you’ve already missed half of it anyway. 

who cares? 

* 

“no, but really, where’d you get that?” 

“its asgardian,” loki leans forward, teasing you with his raised eyebrows. 

“i want it. how much?” you lean forward as well, completely serious. alcohol be damned, his scepter will be yours. you’re not one to kid. 

“you cant bargain with me, tiny human. you have nothing i want.” 

“im sure i could think of a few things... you dont even know how to be a proper villain!” you exclaim with a smirk of your own “you’re gonna want money when you’re thrown in jail.” 

“ill just take it off of you when i’ve decided im bored and offed you. plus, i’m a prince. and a god. i dont need money for anything.” 

“ha! like i could ever bore you. you seem awfully interested in me, prince loki.” 

you’re both closer, faces inches apart. really, its just the alcohol talking, but still. 

you’re smiling pretty big. 

*

you’re not sure how you got here again. how you ended up on this floor, in this kitchen, with this bottle, with these thoughts. not sure, but still. you cant really bring yourself to care too much. 

at least your throat doesnt hurt this time. at least you’re older, smarter, and most definitely not drunk. at least its not exactly the same. 

it takes more than that, now. it takes more than anything to make you angry, now. it takes a lot more to push you over the edge. you’ve grown, at least, in that aspect. 

but, you’ve been thinking of this for two years, you’ve been watching and waiting with hopeful eyes and this... this just isnt it. this isnt the dream, this isnt anything like what you’ve wanted. 

you’re still brainwashed and you’re still angry. you’ve been on the edge of the cliff for years now. 

it doesnt take much to fall off. 

you dont even know why, why you’re here, why this is happening, and its making it worse. 

you havent even seen him in two years, so why do you care so much if he wants to pretend that you’ve never met? you havent so much as spoken of him in two years, so why does it matter now that hes here? why is it so significant that he doesnt seem to care? 

you’re a fool. immature, idiotic. you’ve known this, you know this. you could’ve mentioned it every time you sat with hopeful eyes when an alien showed up, when a certain god of a certain storm appeared and you thought that maybe this time, he might’ve taken someone with him. 

you could’ve told yourself this every time you thought of him, every day you’ve thought of that night. you’re ridiculous, hopeless, and drunk. 

you’re drunk now, and you were drunk then. so why does it matter this much?

you’re drunk.

and really, this time you really arent expecting it when he walks in. 

its different from last time, different because you were already on the floor. different because now you’re mad at him, and because now for some reason you cant even explain, you know that its him. you can feel him from across the room. 

and this time, you’ve drunk a lot more. you’ve downed more than half a bottle, and you’re angrier. you’re happier, but so mad.

still, his quiet “hello” into the kitchen leaves your flame sparking. the lights are on, so he knows someone is in here. he knows you’re in here.

you’re not going to answer though, why would you? 

he doesnt repeat it, but his footsteps are clear, not accompanied with the banging of a gold scepter this time, no horns in sight. this is different, but you know exactly whats happening. you know exactly how he looks, now. 

these two years have felt like nothing, these two years of making up with your brother, of dreams of a certain god’s lips, of hoping that one day he might appear again, all of it means nothing now. there are too many memories, and you have known you’re insane for years. 

the footsteps stop again, and you know this time, hes waititng for you to answer. 

you’re drunk. that explains this feeling. you’re drunk now, you were drunk then. loki should leave because you really dont have the energy for fake pleasantries. 

“can i help you?” you ask, and try and breathe while you wait. you’re different now. 

“actually yes,” he says and its quiet. 

it leaves your stomach aching. 

“i’m looking for someone,” 

* 

“no! never, i will never ever-” 

“technically, you just did,” 

“i hate you.” 

loki laughs, throws his head back in a motion that is unnecessarily attractive to you. “you dont even know me, darling.” 

“i can hear your thoughts, actually.” 

you’ve been leaning on him for maybe the past five minutes. you’ve been sharing this second bottle for the last half an hour. somehow, it tastes better when he’s put his lips on it. 

“is this a human trait i’m unaware of?” he sounds so serious you giggle. 

“no, just me. you picked the wrong person to drink with,” 

“and what am i thinking about now, then, since you can hear it?” 

you turn to him, you turn and theres something different in your eyes. 

“exactly what i’m thinking,” you whisper, staring down, staring at him in the same way hes staring at you. 

what are you thinking of? well, thats simple. 

*

“fresh out of luck, prince. theres no one here.” 

your voice is quiet, your head is pounding, but you cant have a hangover already. you cant be sick now, in this moment. 

its not pounding because of that, and you cant even pretend. 

its dark outstide, which you know, considering that its the middle of the night and you shouldnt even be awake. you shouldnt even be in here, considering tony banned you from stealing from his cabinets. considering, you’ve been here before. considering, all of it. 

arent you only supposed to make the same mistake once? 

“really?” he asks in an amused voice you recognize. hes closer now, you can feel it. you can hear it, the goosebumps are all over you. the buzzing started minutes ago. 

you lay down, on the floor, breathing in and out, feeling your stomach clench with every step he takes. this is ridiculous, you should be asleep, he should be on a different planet. 

“its late. go to bed, loki.” your voice is still quiet, but theres a warning in it. 

“i have a vague inkling that you arent strict with bedtime,” 

his voice is stupid, you’re stupid. why are you just sitting on the floor? 

“no, but i am strict about lying. in that, i hate it. go away.” 

maybe he wasnt expecting the sharpness in your voice, or for you to be laying on the floor. but his eyes when he stands over you, his eyes are almost how you remember them. 

* 

“did you brainwash me?” 

you’re breathless. you cant breathe. and you cant be drunk now, because you never want to forget this, you never want him to move away. 

he tastes alien, he tastes different than anything you’ve ever tasted before, and you just cant stop. 

you lean in again, let your mouth be filled with the sweet cold of his. hes cooling you down in only the best kind of way. 

“not yet,” he says, he says and lets his hands roam across your hips, across your skin in a completely tantalizing way. you cant be drunk now, because you’d never feel like this if you were. 

you’re both breathless. you both cant breathe. 

“are you going to?” 

another kiss, another moment, another taste. you want to smile, but that would require you to move away from him, and you just cant do that.

“i dont need to,” he says, he promises. he smiles, and its evil. evil in how much it stops your heart. this cant be happening. “you’ve been dreaming of this.” 

you’re sure, he knows something you dont. hes done something to you, but you cant complain. 

you really can’t stop.

*

“are you upset?” he asks. its nothing he would’ve said before, its not a question that would’ve crossed his mind two years ago. this isnt him. 

you dont know how you know that, but you do. you know. you’ve met him before, and you’ve known him since then. in case he forgot. 

you laugh at the thought, laugh and laugh. you’re drunk. “is that sympathy i detect in the god of mischief’s voice?” you ask, and laugh. 

maybe he’ll leave just because you’re laughing so much. wouldnt that be nice? wouldnt that break your heart again, off you for good, finally?  

“well, you’re definitely intoxicated.” its sarcastic, its serious, and it makes your blood boil. who is he to judge you? who is he to say anything to you? to be here now, and expect you to answer questions?

you sit up, stare at him for too long, and then your face is a scowl hotter than the sun. you hope hes terrified, but you feel so small. you hope hes terrified, but you know hes not. how could he be, when you’re sure you look like a mess, worse than last time? 

“you would know a lot about that, wouldnt you loki? considering you were so drunk that you’ve forgotten all about me?” its rhetorical, its cruel, and it makes his eyes falter the tiniest bit. 

this. this is what you dont need. this is an emotion you never want to feel again, because you’re tired of the anger. you’ve been living it all your life, and you’e tired of it. but maybe thats what drew loki to you, maybe thats what he likes best. maybe thats why hes still standing in front of you. 

maybe thats what makes him a bad guy. 

he doesnt answer, and so you continue. you continue and you should just stop speaking. “excuse me, your highness, but i really just want to be alone right now. so, if you wouldnt mind, i’ve already claimed the kitchen floor.” you laugh, gesture somewhere you dont know. “tony has plenty of other spaces for you to infiltrate.” 

you think maybe its enough. you think hes going to leave, you think you’ll get to be alone for the rest of the night, maybe drink enough to forget that you ever met him, but then hes still standing there. he doesnt move an inch. 

you dont know what hes still doing here. you can see the light reflecting on his face, you can see his blank eyes, you cant see anything in him that you want anymore. of course, except everything. 

“loki,” you groan and stand up. you set the bottle on the counter next to you, and cross your arms. waiting. for anything, for everything. 

“i didnt forget you, and i wasn’t drunk.” 

oh, really? you scoff, scoff and take another sip before answering. 

“well, thats lovely for you, but-” 

“i was trying to be considerate, in case you didnt want your brother to know we’d already met.” 

some part of you, one you left behind two years ago when you woke up all alone, some part of you thinks thats sweet. some part of you wants to smile just because he said it. some part of you. 

the other part, just wants to scream. 

“well, thanks loki, but ‘considerate’ would’ve been, maybe, not leaving me to wake up alone in the morning.” 

really, its time for bed now, so, promptly, you try to past him, you try and try and. 

you’re back in the past again. goddamn, him.

*

“we shouldnt be-” you gasp before you can finish. you gasp and loki laughs against your skin. “this is a kitchen-” 

“there are worse places,” he promises in an awfully smooth voice, a voice you think you’ve maybe been dreaming of for years, a voice you want to drink. you’re intoxicated, and its not the alcohol. 

“loki, i’m drunk, you’re drunk.” 

“i am not drunk,”

“okay, mr. god, but this is still a kitchen.” 

he smiles up at you, kisses your skn again. 

“shh,” he says. 

you gasp again. 

* 

“..i had to leave. i didnt think it would...” he stops, stares at you for a moment before looking down. hes standng in front of you, not letting you move, not letting you think. “i didnt think it would worry you. i’m terribly sorry,” 

it sounds sincere, but then again, so did his promises before. 

“okay, loki.” you relent, you sigh, you take a step back and smile at him. none of it is real. “cool, thats nice. i’ll be going to bed now-” 

“i’ve wanted to see you for two years,” 

your mouth drops open. your eyes buldge, and you almost want to smack him. this, this is really all grand. 

this is so unfair. this is a cruel reminder you never wanted. this is a nightmare, come true. 

“i’m drunk. i’m leaving,” 

but again, he stops you, he stops you and you dont know why. why he wont just let you go, why he sought you out tonight, why this matters, why you care. 

why you got so goddamn attached to him that night, why you’d felt like a new person when you woke up the next morning and he was gone. 

you take a breath in. you smile again, you push down the flames burning at your throat. “we can both forget it, if you’d prefer. i promise i wont tell anyone, and we can just move on.” 

the words, the words you’re trying to offer him as a method of peace, those words, they send loki away from you. they make his face shift, they make him move back. 

he looks angry now. he looks how you feel.

“you want to forget it?” he asks, even though you just said it, even though you’ve already answered that question. even though, he knows what you meant. 

you arent slurring your words. 

“i just want to...” you cant finish that sentence though, and instead you nod. its enough, it doesnt take effort and its nothing special. it’s the truth, so, he’ll have to accept it.

you’ll go to bed now, you’ll forget that you’ve wanted to talk to him, that you still want to kiss him now. you’ll forget, and so will he. 

it will be easy. nothing more than a piece of cake. 

* 

“i’m sorry,” he whispers later, later when you cant remember your name, when you’ve remembered that you still havent even told him. 

“for what?” 

he kisses your neck instead of answering. 

‘you’re beautiful,” he says, you cant breathe, and hes still speaking. “i didn’t tell you before,” he breathes in and you can feel it in your stomach, can feel that sweet swirling deep inside. “i’m sorry”

“don’t worry about it..”

its late now, too late. you dont want to go to sleep. you never want to fall asleep again, not when you’ve just.. 

not with him. 

the kitchen floor is awfully comfortable. your eyes are falling, faster than you want them to.

*

“just want to what?” hes not hearing the words, and no matter what you might’ve said, you cant read his mind. 

“loki,” its another warning, because hes moving closer, because you can feel him again, because you still remember how he tastes. because that buzzing, the buzzing you’ve felt for so long, its digging itself deeper into your skin. 

“i dont want to forget,” he saiys, and no matter how much you want to believe it, it just sounds like another empty promise. sounds like something you’ve already heard. 

its not enough, but its just want you want. what you want is just there.. 

“i was drunk that night, i was sick. i was...” 

angry is the word you’re thinking of, but his lips are the ones you can feel. but his smile is the one you want, but his eyes, but his face, but his skin. 

his lips, his face, his skin, his touch. its been in your mind since then. its been glued to your thoughts. its stuck, and you want to peel it off. 

you arent supposed to be here, you arent supposed to be in this room, you arent supposed to be drinking this liquor, and you arent supposed to kiss him. 

you’ve gone insane for sure now. you aren’t supposed to do this.

and so, you do. 

*

you’re on the floor when you wake up. your head is pounding, your eyes are glued shut, but somehow they’re open. 

you dont remember where you are, you dont remember why you’re here. 

but you do remember... loki. loki, murderer, god, thief. he was here, you’re in the kitchen. 

his eyes, his lips, his peace, his lips, his skin, oh god. 

he was here. 

you look, you look around, you feel the pain in your body, you feel the anger piling up, you feel the ache in your neck, you feel it all and you look around. 

hes gone. he is. 

your head is pounding and hes gone. you cant remember why. 

*

masterlist here. 

[unloved-cadillac]

I feel like akutagawa is such an underrated character :( can I request a smut with angst #2 (10) like his SO doesnt feel aku love her as much so aku got fed up with her whining and decided to f/ck her dumb

C/n: damn he really is, huh? A spicy request👀mmhmm. I love hate fucking. Thanks for requesting and I hope that you enjoy🤍

———————————————————————

Time Is All I Want From You.(Akutagawa x Reader NSFW Oneshot)

After you joined the Port Mafia, your whole life was turned around. Missions, injuries. But the one thing that caught you off guard was falling in love. With your partner nonetheless.

Akutagawa caught your attention after he saved you on one particular mission that involved the ADA. He stuck with you in the hospital while you treated your injuries and Cupid shot his arrow through your heart that day.

Fast forward a few months later, to your surprise, Akutagawa confessed. He was so clumsy and such a tsundere about it that you couldn’t help but laugh. “Idiot. Why are you laughing? This is already so hard. Don’t make it worse.” He says while putting a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, sorry. But you’re really cute when you’re nervous. And yes. I will go out with you.”

Now, going onto almost 9 months, you and Akutagawa have been going strong. Well, it was.

Akutagawa hardly made time for you nowadays and sure, he was a bit on the shy side when it came to physical affection but is spending your breaks together or a brush of hands when passing the hallways too much to ask for?

Your annoyance showed on your face and Kouyou saw it. “What’s up, honey? Your face seems so out of order.” She asks while sipping her tea. “H-Huh? Oh. It’s nothing.” You say as you snap out of your daydreaming. “Oh come on, now. You know you can tell me anything.” She insists and you sigh. She was right. Kouyou was the first person to welcome you into the Mafia and treated you like a sister. Plus she did save your ass multiple times.

“It’s Akutagawa.” You whisper and she places her teacup on the saucer. “What did he do?” You shake your head. “What didn’t he do?” You say and place your chin on your palm. “I’m not following.” She says confused. “It’s like, he doesn’t love me anymore. He never says he does anyway and we almost never spend time with each other. We haven’t even...in a while you know.” You explain and Kouyou listens to your every word. “I see. Have you tried speaking with him about it? Maybe he was just busy. Chuuya has been working with him quite often lately.” She tries to reason with you. You shake your head. “For months? You would think he had some time right?” You look at her while she taps her chin. “Maybe. But talk to him, Y/n. Maybe he has a valid reason.” Kouyou tells you.

So you did. You went to Akutagawa’s little office he had and knocked on it. “Enter” his deep, monotonous voice says. You open the door to see him standing by the window with documents. “What do you want?” He spits out and you sigh. He turns around to see you, making him shocked. “Y/n? What are you doing here?” You shut the door and face him. “Aku, we need to talk.” You say seriously and he nods. He motions for you to sit but you don’t.

“What is it, Y/n? I don’t have all day.” “That’s the fucking problem.” You harshly say making him shut up. He’s never heard you like this before. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like his sweet girlfriend being angry.

“All you do is work and work and work. You’ve been obsessed with the ADA for God knows what and you never have time for anything else. You never have time for me.” You whisper the last let out and he scoffs.

“Listen, Y/n. I love you. I said it. What else do you want me to do? It’s not like I can ditch work.” Akutagawa groans out and tears threaten to fall from your eyes. “Saying you love me and showing you love me are two different things entirely. All I ask is for time from you. For you to stop overworking and be with me. It sounds selfish, I know that’s what you’re going to say, but that’s exactly how you’ve been acting.” You fumed and turned to leave.

As your hand reached the door handle, your front was pressed against the door by Akutagawa. You heard the click of the lock being turned and a growl in your ear. “You want my time? You want me? How bad do you want me, Y/n?” He says as his hand made its way to your pants.

You felt his arousal. Hard against your ass and you groaned when you felt his hands make it’s way into your panties to stroke your wet pussy. “Ha. You’re already wet. Does arguing with me turn you on that much?” He taunts and you moan. “Aku~ please.” “Please what? You had such a big mouth just now, only fair you tell me what you want.” Akutagawa says and you hear the belt of his pants unbuckle. “I, I want-..” as you were about to speak again, you were abruptly turned around and pushed to the ground on your knees. “No. I changed my mind. I think it’s about time you shut up.” He growls and pulls out his hard cock from the confines of his pants. You lick your lips and he places his tip on your lips. “Open up, angel. Show me how good you take me.” Akutagawa says and you obliged. You opened your mouth and took him little by little. But he felt you were too slow. Akutagawa takes a fist full of your hair and sets a strong, fast pace on his cock. He made you take all of him in, something you couldn’t do before.

“Yes, baby. Just like that. Look at me. Look at me while I fuck that throat of yours.” He orders and you look up at him, with pleasure tears running down your face. “Such a...good girl. You’re gonna take my cum like the whore you are? Well you have no choice, baby.” Akutagawa groans and you moan around his cock. He throws his head back and groans as his cum flushes down your throat. He tasted so damn good. It was impossible to not swallow all of him.

He pulls out of your mouth with a moan and your saliva connected your lips with him. Akutagawa pulls you up and carries you to the desk and smashes his lips to yours. He rips open your shirts and pulls down your pants along with your underwear and throws them on the office floor. “Ready for my cock now? Ready for me to fill you?” He asks as he pumps himself by your soaking pussy. “Yes. Yes fill me, Aku.” You nod and he chuckles lowly. He aligns himself with you and slowly pushes into you. Your moans mix with each other and he buries his face in the crook of your neck. He hands firmly placed on your hips and he starts to move harder into you.

Your hands made their way around his neck and his hard, rough pace shook the table. The sound of skin slapping against skin and lewd noises from the both of you filled the room. “Ahh~ Aku! There! Ah!” A particular thrust made him hit that spot in you and he attacked it ruthlessly. His lips found yours again and you could feel the coil in your belly start to tighten. “Cl-Close. I’m-” you couldn’t even form the words you moaned into his mouth and he moved his hand to circle around your swollen clit. “That’s it baby. Cum for me. Cum all over my cock.” He urges you and that made you explode with euphoria. You came with a loud moan and the tightness of your walls pushed him over the edge, making him empty himself inside you.

The both of you stayed enveloped in each other as you caught your breaths. Akutagawa lifted his head up from your shoulder and kissed you. This time filled with love and apologizes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I neglected you so much. Forgive me.” He whispers and you nod. “I forgive you, baby.” You kiss him back and he hugs you. “I’ll tell Chuuya we’re taking the weekend off. Then I can continue showing you my love for you.” Akutagawa tells you and kisses your bare shoulder.

~~~~

“Did- Was Akutagawa and Y/n?” “Yes. They were. Leave it alone.”

———————————————————————

“Daddy Aku back at it again.”

🖤🤍Thanks for reading🤍🖤

-Caddy.

[shinsoussimp]

hi there I had an idea that I thought youd do so well... suga x male reader who smokes and suga kinda just accepts it but doesnt like that it's bad for him then suga asks why he does it and its readers way of kinda s*lf h*rming and suga's all soft and maybe some fluff or something idk,, I'm tryna quit smoking because I did use it as a way of hurting myself and this would be really appreciated thanks youu ❤

a/n: sorry this took such a long time to get out :( i hope your journey of quitting goes well, anon! and i hope you like this :))

TW: smoking, s*lf h*rm (<- words used without censor)

Sugawara with a boyfriend who smokes

even before you two started dating, sugawara knew that you smoked. sometimes you would step out of whatever room you were in and come back a little later with a faint cigarette smell. and once you guys did start dating, he was generally okay with this. he did often talk about how bad it was for you but he never really forced you to quit or anything.

“your lungs are gonna turn black you know.” he says from the kitchen when he hears you come back inside from the balcony of your apartment. you roll your eyes playfully and sit down at the bar in front of him. he would say things like this often, but he never really understood why you smoked. he never asked. he didn’t know that maybe hurting your body was the the reason for all of it. what he also didn’t realize was how bad it was getting. 

he thought smoking was more of a casual thing for you. up until he went to visit you at your job. he had a plan to suprise you and pick you up once you got off to  take you on a fun date. he waited and waited for you to walk out of the doors of the building but you never did. he suddenly heard soft sobbing coming from the alley next to your work. he slowly walked over to see what was wrong, only to be met with you, sitting on the ground with your back against the wall and your knees pulled into your chest, with tears streaming down your face.

“y/n?!” he ran over and squatted down next to you. you tried your best to wipe your face off with the back of your hand, a cigarette still in between your fingers. 

“w-what are you doing here?” you trying to look as composed as possible. he’s frantically scanning you to make sure you weren’t injured or anything. that’s when he noticed four cigarette butts on the ground next to you.

“how long have you been sitting out here?” 

“i dunno maybe an hour..” you mumble, without understanding why he was asking. suddenly he scoffs and sits back on his heels.

“five cigarettes in one hour? seriously, y/n?” he takes a deep breath when he realizes he probably just came off way more harsh and judgemental then he wanted, but he’s worried about you. you hug your knees tighter in shame as you take another hit from the one in your hand. he leans forward a bit closer to you and grabs your wrist softly and pulls it away from your mouth.

“why are you doing this to yourself?” he whispers. he brings his fingers under your chin and lifts your face a bit so you can look at him, “you’re hurting your body, i can’t just stand by and watch it happen-”

“maybe that’s the point!” you snap, causing him to jump. tears start streaming down your face again when you see the worry in his eyes.

“like... like self harm? you’re trying to hurt yourself?” he’s whispering again, carefully examining your face and your reactions. 

“i deserve it...” you shake your head and attempt to take another hit but suga takes the cigarette and puts it out on the ground. he immediately presses his lips to yours while wiping any tears from your face. he pulls you into his arms, not even caring about the awkward sitting position he is in.

“no. you don’t. think about all of the people that care about you. think about how much i care about you.” he cups your face with his hands and shakes his head with a soft smile on his face, “and what about all that your body does for you? it keeps you alive, it lets you taste delicious foods, see beautiful sites, and most of all it lets you feel all of my love and cuddles.” you chuckle a bit causing him to smile even brighter.

“please, please take care of your body.. i understand that quitting is going to be a long hard road, but i’ll be there the entire time. i love you way too much to let this continue. we can work on different ways to cope, and i’m always here to talk. can you promise to try?” you sigh and after a few moments you nod. he pecks your lips again and stands up, reaching his hand out to help you up.

“you never answered my question by the way...” you tease, “what are you doing here?” he bounces happily while almost dragging you to his car.

“i’m here... to take you on a date!”

[reinerispretty]

I love your writing 🥺 Can you do a Sokka imagine where the reader is a firebender so Sokka doesnt take well to her joining the gaang at first, and they always bicker/ throw sarcastic comments at each other and the gaang is so sick of it! But one day they are forced to be alone together (they go on a mission?) and sparks fly n they kiss or something 😳 they return to camp and the gaang is like... ok why r u guys tolerating eachother and u guys r inseparable and super couply from then on!

hi!! sorry i’m just now getting to this!! i like to put lots of effort into my requests so i wanted it to be the best it could be :D hope you enjoy!!

---

(Y/N) had always been very proud of her firebending. Not everyone in the town she had grown up in were benders, so being able to bend one of the elements was a great honor. Because of her powers, she was on track to join the Fire Nation military. These plans changed of course, as soon as she met the Avatar and his friends. She had helped them escape capture and joined them on their adventures. They were all pretty hesitant about her joining, but eventually Toph vouched for her by saying that she wasn’t lying when she told them all she had ever wanted was to help people. 

(Y/N) had been traveling with their group for a few weeks and was slowly starting to build friendships with the other members of her group. Aang absolutely refused to learn firebending from her, but watched and laughed as she made little dragon puppets out of fire after dinner. She and Toph became fast friends, as they both had a similar wit and nonchalance about life. Katara took a bit to fully warm up to her, but (Y/N) was relentless and eventually they could exchange pleasant conversation as they cooked dinner. Even Appa licked her when she brought him hay, and Momo had started sharing his berries with her. The only person who didn’t like her at all was Sokka. 

“I don’t want a firebender joining us,” He had said pointedly when she first joined the group. He had been outvoted, of course, and now whenever (Y/N) did anything, he had something to say in return. If she arranged the sleeping bags, he complained about their positioning. If she made dinner that night, he complained about the taste. It seemed like he went out of his way to make her feel bad. 

Initially (Y/N) had tried to understand. The Fire Nation had hurt his people, so it was only natural that he was apprehensive toward her. But then his words started to hurt. One day, he had mentioned that she had betrayed her own people, so it would only be a matter of time until she betrayed them, too, and (Y/N) had had enough. She threw her bowl of soup to the ground and stood up. “What’s your problem?” She demanded. 

“My problem is with you,” He spat. “You’re Fire Nation, you can’t be trusted.” 

“Don’t you think that if I had even thought about turning you all in to the Fire Lord, I would have done it already?” 

“I don’t know what goes on in your little spy brain!” 

“I know what goes on in your brain: absolutely nothing!” She let out a frustrated scream and turned on her heel, marching into her tent. The rest of the group stared at Sokka awkwardly. 

“She’s such a piece of work,” He grumbled, sipping on his soup. “Can you believe her?” 

Over the next few weeks, whenever Sokka said an insult toward (Y/N) she’d shoot one right back. If he wanted to be a pain in her side, fine. She’d be one in his, too. 

“You sure your twig arms can handle that firewood?” She asked him as he brought wood for their campfire. 

“Hey, at least I’m doing something. What, are you too busy plotting how to take over the world to help?” 

Their conversations were just insults and sarcastic quips, and eventually the rest of the group started to get sick of it. One night, as they sat at dinner, (Y/N) and Sokka were bickering because they had been forced to sit beside each other. Toph drove a piece of earth between them and flung them in opposite directions. “Would you guys quit it!” The girl shouted. “I only have four out of the five senses and you guys are driving them all crazy!” 

“Sorry, Toph,” (Y/N) apologized, brushing herself off. “You know how he is.” 

“Me?” Sokka exclaimed. “Toph, you know how she is!” 

“You arrogant, good for nothing--” 

“Ow!” Aang shouted, clutching his foot. The group stopped to look at him. “Ow, ow, ow, I think I stepped on something. My foot really hurts!” Katara rushed over to take a look and furrowed her brows. 

“I don’t--” 

“Oh, Sokka,” Aang sighed. “I don’t think I can go on that mission with you tomorrow, my foot just hurts too bad!” He gave Katara a big wink. 

“Oh, of course!” She said, finally getting what Aang was trying to do. “I have to stay here and help Aang heal. I’ll need Toph’s help, too, so (Y/N) is the only one who can go on the mission with you.” 

“I’d rather go alone,” Sokka said, crossing his arms. 

“Please, how are you going to defend yourself if you don’t have a bender with you?” (Y/N) asked with a roll of her eyes. Sokka balled his fists and stormed off to his tent, mumbling angry, incoherent sentences. (Y/N) yawned and retreated back to her tent for the night. 

“I’m not really injured,” Aang said. 

“Really?” Toph deadpanned. “Couldn’t tell.” 

“I just wanted a break from the two of them. They’re always fighting!” 

“Who knows,” Katara said with a smile. “Maybe the trip will bring them closer together.” 

The next morning, (Y/N) and Sokka begrudgingly walked side-by-side to their mission. They were doing a stake out of some Fire Navy ships to see what kind of weapons they were storing on them. They climbed up to a tall hillside, where they could comfortably watch the ships. As long as they were quiet, they wouldn’t bring any attention to themselves. 

Sokka’s plan was to stay there for a full twenty-four hours. Every time (Y/N) thought about being around him that long, she nearly gagged, but she had to swallow it down because she knew this mission would be for the greater good. Hopefully, there would be more watching than talking.

They set up their tents behind some rocks so they would not look suspicious. And then, they sat. And they sat for a long time. (Y/N) was growing increasingly bored, just watching soldiers go in and out of the ships. She sighed, laying back down on the grass. 

“What exactly are we looking for?” 

“Nothing.” She propped herself up on her elbows. 

“Excuse me?” 

“We aren’t looking for anything. Well, not anything specific. I just want to know what kind of weapons they’re using so I can write to the Mechanist to create better ones for us.” 

“So...we’re just going to watch?” 

“Do you not know what a stake out is?” 

“I do! I just didn’t know it was going to be a full day of doing absolutely nothing.” 

“Look, if you don’t want to be here, fine. You can go back to the camp. I can handle myself.” (Y/N) scoffed. 

“I’m not leaving you here alone, Sokka.” 

“Then I suggest you stop complaining.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and reached into her bag. She pulled out two sandwiches and laid them beside her. “What are those?” 

“Food,” She said, sliding a sandwich over to him. He took it suspiciously. “It’s not poisoned, you dummy. I got up early this morning and went to the market so I could make stake out snacks.” 

“Oh, thanks. I guess.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

They sat in silence for what felt like a lifetime. (Y/N) watched the soldiers intently and had even made up backstories for some of them. The smaller soldier was named Lee, and he was a fiesty little fellow, but he was a new recruit. He had good ideas, but no one really wanted to listen to him because he lacked authority. (Y/N) sighed as she watched him talk to his commanders. Poor Lee. 

“I recognize that one,” she said suddenly, pointing at one of the soldiers. “He and I went to training camp together one summer.” 

“Oh, so that’s your friend. Great.” (Y/N) furrowed her brows. 

“I never said he was my friend.” 

“I just assumed, since you were both all ‘Go Fire Nation!’“ He sarcastically pumped a fist into his air. 

“You make a lot of assumptions about me for someone who doesn’t know me.” 

“I know exactly who you are. You’re a spoiled girl from the Fire Nation who wasn’t satisfied with her life and only wanted to join us to run away from your probably mean family. You don’t want to make change, you just wanted an out.” 

“That’s not true at all, Sokka. I grew up poor. Dirt poor. And when I say that I mean it, because the floors of my house were literally dirt. No one asked me if I wanted to join the Fire Nation military, they told me I was going to. I was brought up my whole life surrounded by people who told me how great my nation was. If everyone’s telling you something and you have no reason to believe otherwise, you start to believe it. I know I’m not perfect, but I’m really tired of you thinking that you know who I am.” She pulled her knees into her chest and tucked her chin on top of them. 

Sokka sighed. The sun was setting behind them. “It’s obvious I don’t like the Fire Nation. They’ve caused a lot of pain to me and Katara and to thousands of other people. So when you joined, I guess I just projected that anger onto you.” 

“I understand. But I’m not the entire Fire Nation.” 

“I know, it’s just hard to separate the two sometimes. I can literally see the Fire Nation inside of you. You’re decisive and strong and stubborn--” 

“I’m just going to focus on the first two. You really think those things about me?” 

“I mean, yeah. I’ve seen you talk your way out of fights but also kick some major butt. As much as I hate to say it, you’re pretty cool.” (Y/N) smiled and opened her mouth to respond, but her eyes widened as a giant fireball plummeted toward them. 

“Look out!” She shouted, tackling Sokka out of the way. They both grunted in pain as they hit the ground. 

“How did they even see us?” Sokka asked. He grabbed (Y/N) by the hand and led her up the hill. They abandoned all of their camping stuff (as it was currently on fire) and ran down the backside of the hill, away from the Fire Navy ships. (Y/N) spotted a cave and pulled Sokka inside. They both leaned against the cool rock, breathing heavily. 

“Well, so much for the stake out,” (Y/N) said. Sokka laughed. 

“We’ll have to wait here for the night. The ships are supposed to leave at dawn tomorrow, so we can travel back to camp then.” (Y/N) nodded. The sun had fully set behind them and the cool chill of night was setting in. She shivered. “I can get a fire going,” Sokka said, and began to collect the debris that was scattered around the cave. (Y/N) giggled. 

“Sokka, I got it.” She kicked some leaves and sticks into a pile and kicked a flame on top of them. They sat across from each other with their backs against the cave walls. 

“So, how’d you know you were a firebender?” He asked. (Y/N) shrugged. 

“I think I started coughing fire one day. My family expected it though. My father had been a firebender.” She pursed her lips and stared at the ground. “He was sent to fight in the war. He didn’t end up coming home.” 

“I’m so sorry,” Sokka said quietly. She shrugged. 

“I feel torn about it, you know? Because he fought for hatred and injustice, but I also never got to find out if he supported the war or not. The Fire Nation doesn’t really care if you want to fight. They make you do it anyway.” 

“I always wanted to fight, ever since I was little.” Sokka said. “But now while I’m living my dream, I see how nasty it actually is and understand why my dad didn’t want me to.” 

“Well, you’re a pretty good fighter, so I’m sure he’s proud of you.” Sokka smiled. 

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you, too.” (Y/N) grinned. “Listen, I’m sorry for being so mean to you. I guess I was projecting feelings on to you that I had towards the Fire Nation, and it wasn’t fair. But in my defense, everything you did just made me mad. Like the way you cooked soup, or how pretty your eyes were, or how nice your laugh sounded...” Sokka trailed off, a blush appearing on his cheeks. “I said that all out loud, didn’t I?” 

(Y/N) nodded, trying her best to contain her smile. “Alright,” Sokka said. “You can just kill me now, I guess.” (Y/N) burst into laughter. 

“It’s really okay, Sokka. I’m sorry for being mean to you as well. Everything you did made me mad, like how you constantly teased me, or how cute your ponytail looks, or how funny your jokes were...” 

“You...you really think my jokes are funny?” (Y/N) nodded before sliding to sit at his side. “Can I try something?” (Y/N) nodded again. Their faces were just inches apart and she could tell the fire was dying by the dim glow it left on Sokka’s cheeks. He touched her own cheek with his hand, before pulling her close and slowly connecting their lips. (Y/N) felt her face grow hot, but she still let her eyes close and reveled in the feeling of his kiss. They stayed like that for a while, long after the fire went out. 

When they returned to their friends the next morning, they walked hand in hand. Aang and Katara’s mouths dropped open and Toph stamped her feet on the ground. “There must be something wrong,” She said. “Are they...touching each other?” 

“Hey, guys!” Sokka said, a bright smile on his face. “Aang, how’s the foot doing?” 

“Uh, pretty good,” Aang said, pretending to lift his foot as if it were injured. 

“What’s um...going on here?” Katara asked. 

“Sokka and I had a pretty good stake out,” (Y/N) said. She let her hand slip from his. “I’m gonna get started on lunch.” 

“Alrighty,” Sokka said before planting a kiss on her cheek. He sighed happily as he watched her walk away. “Aang, I really have to thank you for pretending to hurt your foot.” 

---

Permatag List!

@musicalkeys , @aroyaldarknessblr

[yeoldontknow]

Ciperion: 1/2

Author: @yeoldontknow​ as part of the Anchors & Arrows collaboration with @imdifferentshadesofpurple​ Pairing: Jaebeom x Reader (oc; female) Genre: fantasy!au; shipwreck au; jaebeom is a fisherman; romance; angst; elements of horror; ghosts; eventual smut Summary: Everyone on the Isle Indolon knows the story of Ciperon, though none believe it is true. Over centuries, the tale of the long lost ghost ship on the high seas has become little more than urban legend. In his youth, Jaebeom always thought the story was heartbreaking, and he did his best to avoid it - the same way he avoids the missionaries that have taken occupation on the island. On the anniversary of Ciperion’s ill-fated port date, you wash up on sea, and only you have the answers he’s always been seeking. If only you could remember who you are. Rating (this part): PG-13 Warnings (this part): angst; shipwrecks; references to head trauma; jaebeom does CPR; jaebeom rescuing an unconcious woman; allusions to sexual assault but it didnt happen, he just is protective and misinterprets everything; anxiety; ptsd; vomiting; ghost stories; graphic depictions of violence; mentions of blood; non-major character death; themes of horror; lots of grief; memory loss; jb doesnt really know what to do with himself; mentions of becoming a widow; it sounds really sad but i promise its not that bad; tbh oc is a really great sport Word Count: 17.5K

Three hundred miles off the emerald coast of Isle Indolon, Second Mate Ansil Green looks up at the shimmering night of the dark sky and feels a chill of apprehension burrow deep within his bones. 

There are only three days left to their journey, and for five months he has charted each with meticulous accuracy. It is easy to rely on the stars, he thinks. Their steadfast illumination and the reassurance found in their seasonal rotation have brought him immeasurable comfort throughout his life, and not once, not even on nights when storms threaten to eat their way through the ship’s bowsprit, have they ever led him astray. 

In the berthing hull, the missionaries say their prayers with tightly clasped hands, while others read their scrolls in preparation for new lectures once they reach the shore. Back in Indolon, Ansil’s wife and two children anxiously await his triumphant return, and everyone, every crew member and stow away rat, is eager to breach land. Even now, he can see it clearly - his wife’s pretty eyes as she laughs, small crescent moons that remind him of the night sky; the youthful, almost violent laughter of his sons as they play in the fields; the creaking if their iron bed frame as he rocks between her thighs, not unlike the ship as she rocks against the sea. 

Tonight, he wonders if these simple treasures have fallen too far out of reach, if they have slipped, imperceptibly, out of his grasp. 

Because tonight, the stars are wrong. 

Gripping the mahogany banister, he leans against the side and cranes his neck, angling his view slightly to the right in the hopes of correcting the pattern. Something about this is terribly wrong, wrong enough that the deepening doubt bites at him, heating his skin like a fever. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he does his best to swallow this worry,  attempts, rather meekly, to focus on the light flapping of the mainsail above him, on its rhythmic and soothing white noise that often helps him drift, hazily, through sleepless nights. Now, it offers him little comfort, the wind that moves the ship rustling through his hair, stroking against the shell of his ear, carrying whispers of splintered wood and rocky shores blackened by sea water mixing with spilled blood.

Heavy footsteps make their approach from behind, the purposeful strides and confident gait of Captain Grier L’Allante causing the heels of his boots to shatter the false sense of peace. Ansil does not move to greet his Captain, and while this would be considered an insult on any other crew ship, he supposes Grier has become used to his flippant and yet focused attitude when the stars are out, decades of manning ships alongside one another having reduced the rules of propriety almost entirely non-existent. Keeping his gaze on the sky, he feels Grier come to stand beside him, the heat of his closeness full of pride and awe; admiring the vastness of the sea before him, he exudes an energy that puts a sour taste in the back of Ansil’s throat. 

How he hates to ruin the evening.

‘We’re going in the wrong direction,’ he announces, feeling Grier stiffen rather than deflate entirely.

His captain hums in consideration, never one to give over to fear or uncertainty. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at the stars.’ Ansil corrects his posture and regards his friend with pleading eyes. It is, perhaps, the first time he has ever shown signs of fear with his captain, but Grier maintains his composure and presses his lips into a thin line. ‘They’re at the wrong angle by about twenty-six degrees,’ he continues to explain. 

Pointing up at the constellation Cassiopeia, he gestures a long straight line back behind him, back towards the foresail, in the direction of Hydra. Turning once again to look at Grier, he waits for some kind of flicker of emotion to pass over his features, and when nothing comes, he simply sighs, pressing his friend for more. 

‘This distance shouldn’t be this wide,’ he offers grimly, straightening his posture to stand at his full height. ‘Did we turn?’

‘No.’ Grier barks his reply with forceful authority, though, behind his eyes there is a storm brewing, a brief flash of concern that placates Ansil. ‘I helm this ship myself, and you know in your heart we haven’t turned. You said straight on until dawn, and the wind is steady at four knots to the South-West. We’re still on course.’

In unison, they turn back to the sky, and Ansil tightens his grip on the railing. ‘There’s something bad about this. I can feel it.’

Grier chuckles amicably. ‘What you’re feeling is five months staring at the same bloody lights in the sky.’ His gaze falls on Ansil’s profile, and he can feel him regarding his features with probing scrutiny. ‘You didn’t even take a woman at the last port,’ he states, nudging his shoulder with a force that makes Ansil lean to the side. 

‘They’re not precisely the same,’ he admonishes with a laugh. Grier regards him expectantly, but all Ansil can manage is a sigh of longing. He’d love to laugh at this kind of crude joke, and normally he would, but three days is somehow longer than five insurmountable months, the ability to count them transmuting the number into something brutal. ‘And you know I’d never do that to Mala.’

Taking off his hat, Grier runs a hand through the greasy black strands of his hair, grimacing through his laugh. ‘Too loyal for your own good.’

This is something Ansil can tease him about, and he offers his friend an impish grin, taking his own opportunity to nudge Greir’s shoulder roughly, revealing his hidden strength. ‘And your prick is too slippery for your health.’

It’s childish, the way they punch their fists into one another’s arms, the jovial nature of this making him feel as though they are teenagers once again. At once, he is nineteen and Grier has just convinced him to come out to sea, to stow away on his father’s vessel, and they are laughing at the reckless foolishness of this idea. But they are smiling, already hungry for the adventure, already wanting the spray from the waves and the salt that shall never leave their skin. They are young and they are hopeful, and now, even after the bloodshed and the violence and the horror they have seen among the ocean, he thinks they have never been quite as dangerous as they were then.

‘You need rest, mate,’ Grier advises once they’ve settled back against the railing. They look out over the ocean, the water as black as the night it reflects, light of the moon illuminating the peaks of waves and casting shadows behind them as long as the sea is wide. Releasing a deep sigh through the flare of his nostrils, he suddenly becomes alarmingly serious. ‘Otherwise, it’s scurvy.’

A beat of silence passes between them, a pregnant pause in which neither one of them breathes, the word hanging heavily between them both, unwilling to be touched. Until, they erupt into laughter, Ansil leaning against the railing to steady himself atop the wet baseboards. A wave hits the side of the ship and sprays gently against his cheeks, cooling his skin and for a moment, he is grounded in the happiness of this. For a moment, the sky is clear and he can see Grier’s warm, too kind smile; can see the way the ship is heading home, steadfast and unyielding in her journey.

For a moment, there is peace.

Calming his breath, he runs a hand over his face and nods. ‘What I would give for a peach.’ 

Ansil waits for the inevitable hum of commiseration, a sound of companionship in the memory of the juicy ripeness of Indolon peaches - the yellow of their fruit so moist it would leave their hands sticky for days. He can almost taste the burst of flavor in his mouth, tongue wet in desperation for something other than the salt and brine of oysters and trout, and finds the only consolation for this hunger is that they shall arrive in time for the peak season. 

Ansil waits for Grier, but the sound never comes, his captain watching the waves beyond the ship with lips parted in pale shock. Knotting his brow, Ansil takes his time turning to look where Grier’s focus rests, the tendrils of dread rising once more within his belly. The fear in him feels almost inhuman, taking full control of his joints as they stiffen, keeping him rigid and held firmly in place. Grier continues looking out to sea, blood rushing away from his cheeks, likely retreating within to service more important pieces in preparation of survival. 

When Ansil finally gathers his strength, he swallows thickly, and looks out to the water. He has lived through war - a great many battles on Naval ships both larger and smaller than this. He has seen dying men beg for both life and death, the fear in their eyes making it unclear which they crave more. He has seen waves rise taller than the ships he crews, seeking an immortal companion for her enduring loneliness. 

But he has never seen fog overtake the earth quite like this, or with such wrath.

It comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once, swallowing both sea and sky as it crawls across the horizon. From its center, an ethereal light seems to glow, a beacon to herald the nothingness that surrounds them, but even this light too is a half formed shadow, the core of its rays smeared across miles as it spreads within the clouds. The blood in his ears in unrelenting, the rush of his blood to his thunderous heart making his head begin to hurt as he watches it spread. Has anything ever been so fast? 

The fog works quickly to cover everything in sight, racing towards the ship at a speed he simply cannot comprehend. When he was young, and newly appointed to Third Mate Naval Officer, he sailed aboard the Cygnus, the fastest ship Indolon had ever produced - reaching a record breaking thirteen knots in the correct wind conditions. Somehow, this fog is so much faster, ravenous for absolutely everything it touches as the waves begin to still beneath its touch. 

The wind ceases.

The waves still, cannibalised by the fog.

And as he looks to Grier, their eyes mirroring the horror they find in each other, he realizes the ship has come to a full stop.

It is when the fog touches the boat that he hears it, the anguished screaming of men beneath their feet. Even at war, he has never heard such terror as this. The sound is born from men suddenly learning that they will die, this death an ambush to the unsuspecting and therefore all the more gruesome in its wake. He regards his feet with a disgust that taints his numbness, the abjection of this noise releasing a myriad of feelings within his veins - the urge to run, the urge to scream, a tightness in his throat so painful he fears he may suffocate on the size of it, and the overwhelming desire to cry. Yet, it seems his body cannot decide upon any of these, and so settles on none, rendering him absolutely and completely silent. 

They stand above the berthing hull, listening to the missionaries burst to life for one extraordinary moment before their echoes die one by one, their last breath a wail of anguish. As Ansil takes in a long, slow inhale to steady his growing panic, he can smell the acrid stench of blood and piss wafting up between the boards, bile rising to the back of his throat. The silence that befalls them in the aftermath is threatening, an eerie calm that raises gooseflesh along his skin. Bones brittle and mouth dry, he simply stares at Grier and takes in every detail he can, unfailingly certain this is the last time they will see one another. 

In the distant horizon a tall mast looms beyond the mist, the main mast taller than that of their vessel. The crow’s nest is empty, and if he focuses long enough he has the passing sensation he could look right through the wood into an empty, eternal void. 

‘It can’t be,’ he whispers, reminding himself it is just a legend and that legends are buried in the past.

They are buried.

His voice carries no echo, the atmosphere around them tight enough his voice lives and dies before him, reaching nowhere else but his own ears. Grier does not even react, does not make any movement at all, save for the shifting of his attention to the world behind Ansil, eyes trained on something that makes his adam’s apple bob in the effort of swallowing his trepidation. 

A bead of sweat glides down Ansil’s spine, and he can feel an angry shadow looming behind him. Burning like hellfire, he waits for the scent of his own flesh bubbling beneath his chemise to reach his nose, readying for immolation. Death comes slowly for people like him, he supposes. It likes to take its time weighing the worth of his soul and the value of his existence. He has made love and he has made life, but he has taken far more than he has created, and so he suspects this slow conquering of his person is deserved - retribution for the bloodstains etched into his palms.

‘Ciperion,’ Grier says, eyes widening in sudden, terrible realization.

It is the last thing Ansil sees and hears before cold hands wrap around his jaw, pressing fingers into his mouth and pulling until the pain in his bones, his skin, his muscles is so great the world turns black.

Standing on the old oak dock behind his home, Jaebeom stares out at the open sea and knows that, today, the water is ruthless. 

He can feel the rage beneath her waves, the violent and unforgiving aggression of the current guiding the water as it rolls up against the edge of the dock, shaking its legs as if testing the foundation’s strength. The first light of morning is unable to penetrate the intense cloud cover along the horizon, their peaks and valleys tinged with red shadows behind the murky green and black. Awake far too early to begin his descent to the jetty, he balls his fists in the pockets of his linen coat and eyes the gathering storm with suspicion. 

Once again, he’s been brought out.

Pulled from his feather bed by some unseen force, it has become a habit for him to spend his early hours on the dock, overtaken by a profound sense of longing. Rooting himself to the wood, he has grown used to the passage of time that drifts beyond him, and finds that he is unencumbered by these lost moments. It’s been happening more often as late, his sleep interrupted by the desire to see and to know, an endless stream of questions burning at the back of his mind that chase the sleep from his limbs. But, always, the words are garbled, the thoughts unclear. 

It is worse today - somehow, he knows this with all of his being. Even as he stands, completely alone and unseen, he feels naked all the way down to his nerves. Narrowing his eyes, he peers at the water, unblinking, taking hold of the ache within his chest. Something is missing, has been lost. Or, perhaps, it was taken from him, the intense longing in his chest delivering him a nostalgia too great to be expressed or understood. If he looks long enough, he can almost envision it emerging from the horizon, precariously balanced as though hanging on a thread. 

But the image never fully forms, never reveals its nature, and he is left bereft, hissing a sigh of frustration between his teeth. 

Gulls pass overhead, making way for the Southern shore. Their calls are the music of the morning, a siren song that only serves to mire him deep within his thoughts, and he blinks several times as he rolls his shoulders back, trying, and failing, to collect himself. The current sends a rough breeze through the thin fabric of his chemise, the uncharacteristically cool summer air nipping at his skin, and he bristles though he does not shiver.  Digging his nails into his palm, he struggles to gather the will to leave, every bone in his body telling him he must wait.

Each morning Jaebeom finds himself in this position, looking out to the open water and waiting - wanting to write love letters, wanting to write odes, often wanting to simply cry or curse the tide for what it has taken, but he remains mute, dumbfounded, lingering expectantly for an answer that will not come. And he is angry, muttering to himself that he must leave, that there is no purpose here, but the thought of missing it only serves to aggravate his insistence on keeping still, on looking and looking harder. 

‘Come on,’ he mumbles, as if willing a response from the sea.

When nothing comes, the muscles in his arms and thighs tense as he presses himself into the dock. ‘Show me,’ he hisses, emphatically.

Immediately he feels terribly silly, not even certain to whom he is speaking. It is not the first time he has made these demands, not the first time he has called out to the sea as if it would even deign to reply. The answering silence and empty air should neither surprise nor disappoint him, but as his posture curls and his chest deflates, he finds both of these things happen in quick succession. Something is out there, something beyond the place the light touches, and he thinks what frustrates him most is the endless unknowing. 

Voices along the shore break his concentration, a group of missionaries walking side by side, barefoot in the warm sand as they talk, sometimes laugh, amongst one another. The sound of their chatter breaks the magic of this hour, an unwelcome interruption to the morning solitude. At once he returns to himself, hands in his pockets relaxing out of the fists he’s been holding, and suddenly he feels rather neutral about his position on the dock, about the ocean, and the thick clouds overhead. 

The town has started to wake, the missionaries commencing their morning walk a sign that he is late - terribly late, and the time it will take him to prepare his sails and his nets will likely cause him to miss the golden fishing hour. Closing his eyes, he hangs his head and sighs, certain he will lose the best crabs of the day. 

Briskly walking along the shore to the jetty, he keeps a wide berth from the missionaries as he passes. Jaebeom keeps his eyes trained on the rocky jut of the shoreline, keeping his posture rigid in the effort of not being overtaken by the staggering sense of unease that gradually drops his feet to his stomach with each step he takes. He’s certain they must feel this, must feel the crushing weight of his discomfort, and he furrows his brow, swallows thickly, and grits his teeth as he prepares for conversation. 

‘Good day,’ they chime in unison, bowing their heads in greeting. The steely chill in their voices makes him shiver. ‘May Deus keep you.’

Jaebeom simply nods politely, but says nothing, finding no solace in their words. On instinct, his attention diverts to the slotted diamond shaped symbols on their rosaries, a sense of nausea rising in his stomach. Lifting his gaze to their faces, he focuses on their features - their eyes, their well practiced smiles, their royal blue square hats - but all the while, he battles against himself, soul willing him with all its might to look, once more, at the rosaries. 

Quickening his steps, he hurries past them, releasing a breath he did not know he had been holding. Running a hand through his hair, he chastises himself sheepishly for his disrespectful behavior. He’s old enough now, nearly thirty and well past the age of childish anxiety, to know they are harmless, it is harmless, but still he feels a rattle in his bones even after they have disappeared from view. He remembers the monthly service ceremony - his mother, her pleading eyes, and his frightened distress as she brought him along. Long into the night, he would be plagued with the memory of their long faces and their empty expressions, the fear and hatred in him making him feel sick with fever. 

Eventually, he grew out of this level of anguish but still his maturity and his logical reasoning do not serve as a comfort. In the numerous missionaries that occupy Indolon, he finds no refuge, no joy, somehow more sure now, in his old age, than ever of their wrongness.

His schrooning boat is docked at the base of the rocky cliff side, just below the lighthouse and pushed far away from the crowded wharf. As he makes his approach, he feels the eyes of other fishermen bore into his spine, their judgement of him, his lack of a First Mate, a crew, and his placement of his boat always deeply felt at this hour of the morning. But he does not mind. 

Since he was small, Jaebeom’s understanding of the sea, of her nature and her cruelty, has kept him at a great distance from his peers. As a child, he preferred to listen - to listen to the ocean and to watch it change, finding a deep affinity in her tumultuous loneliness. This kind of loving relationship, he thinks, has developed into a skill that keeps his family well paid, a roof over his head, and the bellies of many full. Maintaining a crew would simply distract him, his mind less on the water and more on the work of his members. 

And while he, too, might have agreed the placement of his boat against the rocks is reckless at best, it is placed where he would catch crabs as a child with his father - the best location to spot their lavender and purple shells as they eat the moss along the stones. And just below, the bright vermillion of the king crabs glittering as they sink to the ocean floor.

Stepping onto his boat, he sheds his linen jacket and cranes his head back to observe the large mast, its mainsail tied neatly at the base with a strong sailor’s knot. Rolling up his sleeves, he lets the sea breeze kiss his warm skin, heated and dewy with moisture from his walk, and watches light behind the clouds do its best to illuminate the land below. The rains will likely start soon, the hours left in the day for adequate fishing conditions dwindling, and so he hoists himself up on the shroud, untying the sail in quick, easy motions. 

Climbing up the iron ladder connected to the mast, he reaches for the rope at the center of the sail and latches his fingers, giving one large tug to set the sail free. It flaps loosely in the wind, releasing itself to its full length, and as he makes his way down in the cover of its shadow, he looks out to the lighthouse, admiring the way the tall grass is somehow more viridescent beneath the grey skies as it reaches upwards, asking for rain. Autumn is nestled in the branches of the trees, the peak summer season soon to give way to the burning gold of autumn, but as he regards the lighthouse field he finds it difficult to imagine the world any other way than this. It’s as though the earth has always been green, always been bright, too alive to ever fully be witnessed.

As he takes in the splendor of the earth, letting pleasure root itself against his ribs, he notices, rather curiously, a pile of cloth discarded amongst the rocks. Strewn carelessly across the sharp incline, the ivory cloth has been yellowed and torn, resting long forgotten in the shallows. Narrowing his eyes, he steps off the shroud and leans over the edge of his boat, glad that it is still tied to the fender and not drifting away with the sudden displacement of his weight. As he continues to look, the ivory gives way to the vitality of flesh and long limbs, and his mouth runs dry. 

‘By Deus,’ he whispers, the dread in his veins restricting the volume of his voice. ‘It’s a person.’

Limbs moving of their own accord, Jaebeom is carried back to the dock, hands working quickly to remove his boots. Gaze unwavering, he keeps his eyes on the body, transfixed and horrified, afraid of letting his eyes wander for fear of it disappearing altogether. His heart beats like thunder against his sternum, warring with too many emotions and unable to allow any one a victor. Behind the worry, the confusion, the terror, a curious sense of relief is building, a calm that would almost have him believe he is not in the process of coming undone. 

If he focuses on it, he gets the sense that this is what he has been waiting for - not just in the morning before the dawn breaks, not just in the crash of waves against his boat and their icy waters demanding his spirit, but for always. In this moment, the hollowed sensation in his heart, the sense of something long absent, is scabbing over with each breath he takes. 

Barefoot, he moves at a slow run, something like grief and hope mixing in his blood and putting a swell in the joints of his fingers. Jaebeom stifles these feelings, grounds himself in the reality that someone might be hurt, might be in need, and reminds himself, dutifully, that it is not the time to be carried away with his emotions. Still, there is a tingle at the base of his neck, an urgency that goes beyond humanitarianism, pushing him forward with exhilaration.

'Help.'

A female voice is carried on the wind, musical in its cadence and pleasurable in the way it sings its request. The ocean spray delivers it to him at the same moment the water bursts over the rocks, the sea mist rising up against his cheeks before retreating through the crevices in the earth, cooling the flush beneath his skin. Inside him, it burrows, reaching down and deep to nestle in the long empty caverns of his heart. As he moves over the rocks, carefully placing his feet to maintain his balance, he strains to hear it once more, certain it is a woman he is racing to help and she is begging to be saved. 

'Help heal.'

'I'm coming,' he calls out, voice as shaky as his legs and echoing over the ocean’s roar. 

He does his best not to cut his toes on the angular shards that have been eroded over years of rough sea water, but with each step he takes the water rises over the rocks with an aggression bordering on feral, demanding all of him within its foam. With each rush of water, he has the feeling it is reaching for his ankles, hands desperate to clutch at his person and drag him down, and down. 

Yet, the closer he gets, the more he feels as though he could weep - from joy, from desperation, from loss - and this alone is enough to make him want to rush, pushing through the erratic rhythm of his heart and beyond the lump in his chest that makes each inhale ache. Now, with a clear vision of the body, it is as though you have been spit from the ocean’s mouth, cast out for your transgressions and all the corrupted ways you have disappointed the ocean. There is tragedy in the way you are draped over the rocks, body poised at woeful angles for having displeased the gods. Now, you have been forced to greet the horror of your retribution. 

Only a few rocks away, Jaebeom allows himself a brief pause and takes you in, letting his eyes take their time in their discovery of your person. Hugging himself, he suddenly feels conflicted, as though he is learning your shapes while still becoming reacquainted with something long missed. This state of being is a paradox, and in the full emptiness of it, he has the passing sensation that he is learning the essence of love, and little else. 

Shaking himself free from his idle reverence, he takes a few steps closer and notices the silk of your dress is ruined, perhaps permanently. His jaw drops slightly at the still gleaming shine of the fabric, the most expensive silk he has ever seen. It clings to your skin, dampened and tarnished, fraying at the ripped edges but still doing its best to hold you delicately, clinging to you in the effort of keeping you safe. Something about the cut of the dress triggers a memory he cannot quite reach, a familiarity in its lines and shapes that make him recall there was a purpose behind this outfit, a reason that it is both extraordinary and unforgettable, but it vanishes from him as quickly as it came. The fog in his mind is heavy, muddling his thoughts and pulling at the edges of his concentration and he knits his brow together to keep himself grounded.

In the aftermath of this brief recollection, he bites a whine of longing burning at the back of his throat, a pathetic sound of loss, regret, mourning. Your hair spills over the rocks, eyes closed and skin bruised though not scraped to bleeding. Flickers of recognition press at him, mind racing around the image of your soft lips, the high angle of your cheekbones, and the delicate elegance found in your wrists. Struggling to recall your name, Jaebeom approaches gently, coming to a kneel at your side, unsure what to say at all.

Pressing two fingers to the pulse point in your neck, he feels a dull, yet ever present, throb of life beneath your skin and releases a breath he did not know he had been holding. Alive, though just barely and unconscious, lungs likely full of sea water. Everything about you is soft, the warmth of life fading quickly beneath his fingers and rendering you terribly fragile, and he retracts his hand for fear of his touch giving bloom to more marks along your flesh. 

Glancing around the cliff face, he looks for signs of wood, other bodies, ripped sails or bent iron, but finds nothing. No signs of shipwreck, no signs of a waiting party to receive you. You are alone in this torment, rejected by land and sea, and forced to exist within the limbo of life and death. 

Before he can stop himself, he lifts you to his chest, cradling you close as he rises to a stand. If you were awake, you would be shivering, would tremble in the chill that means to overtake your very bones, and he hurries as best he can back to his boat and the woolen blankets he keeps in case of cold summer rains. Moving quickly over the shore, he stumbles slightly, feet tripping over themselves in surprise as he feels you burrow into him, seeking warmth with a low moan, and brow furrowed in what he hopes is simply the effort of healing. 

Finally aboard once more, he takes you into the small cabin beneath the helm and tucks you into the straw bed he keeps for nights when the winds are threatening and violent, remaining on the boat in case the waves should do their best to reclaim the wood. Draping several blankets over you, he crawls close enough the heat from his chest could radiate into your skin, encouraging a rush of blood in your veins. His fingers twitch, wanting to brush stray strands of hair out of your eyes, but he presses the flat of his hand into the bed, resisting his urges. 

The medic will need to be informed. This realization hits him with a bitterness that speaks of separation, chest restricting and tightening against the air in his lungs until it hurts to breathe. Against his bones, his muscles battle the urge to hold you close and he shuts his eyes with a grimace as a headache blooms at the base of his skull. Yet, as he strains to focus in the quiet of the cabin, he is acutely aware there are no traces of your breath, no labored wheeze no even inhalation, and so he resolutely declares that he will ferry your oxygen, coming to sit up on his knees as he plugs your nose and presses his lips to yours, opening them slightly. 

Cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Jaebeom exhales deeply, letting the strength of his breath travel into the limit of your lungs. Squeezing his eyes closed, he exhales for as long as he can manage, giving everything within himself to you before, all at once and all over again, he feels as though he has stepped out of himself. 

Once more, voices materialize at the back of his mind, these new sounds more like echoes that erupt from nowhere and no when, fingerprints of a bygone era carried to him on wings. Their words are a garbled mess of sounds, undeterminable cadences lacking diction or emphasis, but he hears the sound of a man, low and gentle and wondrously tender.

He hears a man, and the man is unmistakably, unfailingly, him. 

Opening his eyes, he drinks you in, and surrenders to the notion he is being conquered by the mere sight of you. One word from you, and it would be as violent as a new beginning, a great shattering of all the comforts he knows of the world. And he would welcome it, knows, as if by magic, that he has given over to it before, would give over to it again, the power in you so great only ritual could contain it.

Blinking several times to clear the shock from his mind, he quickly moves his hands to your chest and presses against your sternum in the rhythmic way his sister taught him when he announced he wanted to be a fisherman, just like their father. Her eyes had glazed over then with the memory of loss and strife, and so she laid him on the floor and promptly taught him how to save a life should the sea threaten to claim a man as her own. The muscles in his harms strains as he continues pressing, and he thinks maybe he will need to press his lips to yours once more, bracing, instinctively, for more voices to fill his head, but a rush of water bursts from between your lips and he quickly moves back, turning you to your side to let it drain completely.

Falling back on your side, you release a cough but you do not wake, the small puddle of water between you both at once threatening and sacred, a reminder that everything Jaebeom has seen and felt is real, tethered to this moment. Tethered to you. 

‘Who are you?’ he murmurs, but even as he says it, even as the words leave his mouth, he knows this is not the right question. 

In the oncoming silence, the correct words swell on his tongue, nearly tumble from his lips, but, instead, he chews the inside of his cheek, aware that the right question will insight a riot in him he is unprepared to endure. 

When Jaebeom carries you into his home, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, overtaken by the staggering weight of deja-vu. 

He’s been in this position before, holding you against him in the center of his small kitchen as the elasticity of his emotions stretches outward for an eternity. There is an awakening occurring at the very center of his soul, bursting like a new star as its white heat slithers down his spine. Glancing down at you, your soft lips, your closed eyes, and your limp frame, held so closely to him, he feels the earth move beneath his feet, the shifting tectonics of his life all leading to this single moment. 

Shaking his head, he releases himself from this, moving to his bedroom with focused steps as he places you in his bed. Igniting the oil lamps, he works quickly to bathe you in warm light, covering you with his down comforter before moving to the furnace tucked in the corner of the room. In summer, he keeps little coal and kindling but he uses the last of the brush wood he’s saved from the recent winter to ignite a small fire that burns red and gold behind the latched closing.

He regards your still form with a frown, running a hand through his hair in distress and grits his teeth. The last several days have been almost unbearably hot, but it seems August’s heatwave has been broken by the cool wind of the day, the overall gloom breaking the humidity and blocking the sun from her usual path. Of all days, it pains him that this would be the day the sea released you from her clutches, sent you from the cold depths of her darkness back to the shore where the sun refused to keep you. 

From his kitchen, he takes a small linen cloth, inspecting it for cleanliness, and folds it into a long rectangle. Warming it in front of the furnace, he rotates it in circles before he feels it is sufficiently heated, just enough to ease tension in your muscles and restore heat where you need it most. It warms his hands, palms already swollen and grown clammy, room becoming relatively stuffy as he slides the cloth beneath your neck while you sleep. Already, a pink flush has begun to settle within your cheeks, the relief in him not unlike a rapture.

What will you say when you wake, he wonders. How will you sound when you look him in the eye, unsure of where you are? More importantly, he worries if you will wake at all, if perhaps the rush of blood beneath your skin is the last tour it will take before it stills altogether, heart too sluggish to keep a steady flow. The thought sends a tremor of heartbreak into the base of his spine, and a pained gasp tumbles through his lips, scorning the very notion of the thought. 

He needs an occupation to distract, needs a purpose to feel as though there is progress being made, and so he turns on his heel and grabs his coat, supposing that when you do wake, he should at least be ready.

The walk to his sister’s cottage is not long, one that he usually relishes in the spring when the path is lined with blossom trees and the foxes play around their dens, their ruddy tails bouncing amongst the high grasses. Today, his strides are long but the journey feels endless, the path reaching well beyond the limits of the land, his mind thinking only of arrival rather than enjoying the view. 

Another group of missionaries passes him along the dirt road, and he crosses to the other side to give himself space, freedom, liberation from their watchful eyes. Offering them sidelong glances, he studies the way they regard him conspicuously, whispering to one another as though he cannot hear the faint sounds of their voices, the conviction of their stares a judgement he feels with all of his body. Do they somehow know that he has found and kept a woman? Have they heard the voices too, the echoes he is resurrecting just by being near you? 

He finds he cares little for the answers to these questions, deeming their existence as something infinitely less important or significant in the light of resolute purpose. 

Byeol answers the door after three hard knocks, her face a picture of confusion that still does nothing to mar her beauty. She stands just shy of his height, one hand on the door and the other on her hip, the laugh lines along her cheeks carrying a secret smile within them. 

‘Jaebie,’ she announces, more a question than a statement. Arching a single brow, her brown eyes bore into his with the chastising admonishment only an older sibling could manage. ‘Shouldn’t you be fishing?’

Jaebeom nods, a noncommittal gesture of affirmation, and presses his way through the doorway, past her slight frame. He wastes no time slipping off his boots as he fumbles for an explanation. 

‘Sorry for the unexpected arrival,’ he mumbles, only partially apologetic. ‘Something’s…’ his voice drifts away, eyes looking everywhere but her face as he searches for the right words. To tell the truth means he must tell the whole truth, unable to hide anything from her, and so he settles for one single, vague word. ‘Happened,’ he says, finally.

Immediately, he regrets it.

Byeol’s eyes widen, hands raising to gently cup his face in her palms. Satisfied he is whole, they run down his shoulders to his arms, searching. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No, no.’ He pulls himself from her grasp, hands raised in surrender, offering her a sheepish smile of amiable regret. ‘Nothing like that. I, uh, need to borrow some of your clothes.’

She takes a single step back, brow knit together in bewilderment. A myriad of emotions pass over her face, and Jaebeom does his best to count them all, the youth of her features rising and falling between her fear, her amusement, her apprehension. Eventually, she settles on curiosity as her eyes rake him up and down, one hand resting on her chest, perplexed yet surprised.

Rolling his eyes, he turns away from her and moves through her home, heading towards the wooden staircase. ‘They’re not for me.’

Byeol follows close behind, hot on his heels. ‘You’re telling me you…’

There’s too much excitement in her voice, the sound and volume of it making him close his eyes as if bracing for a storm. In one fluid motion, she rounds in front of him to block his path, eyes wide in delight as she makes an inappropriate gesture with her hands. 

‘No!’ he scolds, though he finds he must swallow the early threads of a laugh. ‘Not that either.’

Resting his hands on her shoulders, he feels a slight flush creep into his cheeks as she giggles in childish glee. Gently easing her to the side, he continues up the stairs with heavy thuds of his feet. It always amazes him how easily, and how quickly, Byeol can manipulate the atmosphere in the room, her energy always barely contained and always terribly infectious. Questions are burning at the back of her throat, and she follows closely behind, the bounce in her step echoing around the house behind him. 

Just like their mother, she will not let this go until she is satisfied, will not let him leave until she has received at least one answer, and so he releases a silent sigh as he reaches the landing, turning down the hall towards her room. He should be commended, he thinks, for the bravery he must assume to endure her interrogation.

‘There’s a woman -’ he begins slowly, only to be cut off.

‘You bastard!’ she exclaims delightedly, slapping his shoulder blade with enough force to make him stumble. 

She takes his slight hesitation as an opportunity to run ahead of his once more, the glee in her eyes wild and bright, a look he once found vindictive in their youth. Spreading her arms wide, she presses her hands into the frames of her bedroom doorway, full of impish joy as she stares him down. The love he feels for her blurs together with his frustration, the affection in him rising like a tide.

‘Would you stop?’ he pleads, though now he does not bother to stop his laugh. ‘I just need some stays. A chemise and some trousers, too, if you have them.’ 

Standing to her full height, she raises her head elegantly, full of self-importance and authority, swallowing her smile for a serious expression of warning. ‘You can borrow them on the grounds that you give me her name.’

Exasperated, he looks away, letting his gaze move to the side and into the small rectangle that is Sun Hee’s room. It’s messy, the bed unmade and several books piled onto their mother’s antique rocking chair. Atop the books, her stuffed crochet kitten rests, presiding over the chaos like a queen. Along the walls, sepia portraits of his mother and father hang beside cross-stitch pieces his sister did while pregnant: one a rabbit, another a bundle of wild flowers, one a vestige of the sea. In the center of the wall, above her small wrought iron bed, a portrait of her father is framed and hung, the frame a silver gilded edge that catches all the light, even when the clouds threaten to block the sun.

When he looks once more at his sister, he sees how his silence and avoidance has riled her further, her wry grin returned once more with all its damning inquisitiveness.

‘Do I know her?’ she presses, narrowing her eyes.

He shakes his head, and offers a small shrug of his shoulders. ‘No,’ he explains, ‘I actually don’t know it.’

Jaw dropping, she reaches forward once more and slaps his arm. ‘Jaebie!’

Dropping his head, he presses his fingers into his eyes and wishes, with all of him, that her assumptions of his perpetual loneliness and solitude were not such a concern. Wishes, more than anything in this moment, that Sun Hee did not frequently ask for an auntie to play with, her lack of a father rendering her wishes for a sibling obsolete. For any other man on Indolon, a woman in his home, let alone his bed, would hardly be news, would hardly warrant any discussion at all, but Byeol has watched him try, and fail, over the years to find a woman who loves as ardently, as openly, as intensely as he does. 

She has watched him resort to his life by the sea, watched him spend days alone on his boat, returning at sunset and smelling of brine and salt. All her life she has watched and she has worried, alluding to the full weight of her concern only in jest.

‘Can I please just have them?’ he groans weakly.

Lowering her arms from the doorway, she steps to the side and welcomes him through. ‘Yes,’ she acquiesces. ‘Take what you need from the closet, but this isn’t over. And be quick, I’m on my way out.’

Jaebeom tosses her a silent expression of gratitude over his shoulder, moving through her room with quick steps. ‘Where are you going?’ he asks, sliding open her wardrobe and taking things he knows she keeps but does not often wear, certain she will not miss them. ‘Isn’t Sun-hee already at school.’

Byeol moves behind him, gathering her headscarf from atop her bed and tying it with a hum of confirmation. ‘I’m going to Mala Green’s. Her husband’s ship was meant to port two days ago. It never made it.’ 

Jaebeom stills, clothes draped haphazardly over his arm as he turns to greet her eyes. Together, they regard one another in silence, a cold chill seeming to overtake the room. He remembers the look he sees in her eyes now, remembers the bone deep anxiety and the way she did not sleep for weeks, not even months. In a single moment, it is four years ago and they are both bereft.

‘The Pyxis?’ he murmurs, remembering how he and his sister and his niece, and all the town had watched it sail away from port eight months ago, waving until it disappeared from the horizon. 

She nods minutely, a small motion almost imperceptible had he not been watching her intently, looking down at her hands where she nervously picks at her fingernails. ‘She is thinking the worst.’ 

Dropping the clothes to the bed, Jaebeom takes a few strides and comes to stand before his sister. Letting his hands rest on her shoulders, his thumbs press idle, reassuring circles into her muscles, hoping his expression looks hopeful, at least. ‘It could just be delayed.’

Taking in a shaking breath, Byeol nods but does not lift her eyes to his, gaze trained instead on the unsteady  motions of her hands.‘We always like to think that, but…’ Falling quiet, she glances towards her vanity, a distant expression of longing painting her features. He knows she is looking at her wedding photo, but he does not mention it. ‘A woman always knows, doesn’t she?’ she finishes, finally looking at him with an empty smile.

And just like that, in the length of the shallow stretch of her lips, they fall back in time to Port Vela. She clutched his hand as the Aquila departed, the strength in her grip enough to turn both their knuckles white. The intensity of this touching reminded him that to love is to open the heart to grieving, that to love means to welcome the notion of losing, and so he pressed his fingers against hers with the same force, joining her in solidarity. 

Even before the missionaries declared him dead, she knew he was lost. The tears she shed in childbirth were not those of bodily trauma but those of heartbreak, once more holding his hand and begging for him to tell her why Dong Hyun wasn’t there with her, why the missionaries were forcing her to believe he was still alive. She said it hurt to know they were teasing with the heart of a widow, that moment perhaps the last time he ever feigned trust in the gods and their mortal vessels. 

Dong Hyun had left to deliver a group of missionaries from a nearby port, and they were angry for weeks at their failed return, citing a growing population that needed more help. Jaebeom never knew why they didn’t come to the funeral, his sister and his newborn niece crying in unison against an empty coffin while he pressed his feet into the wet grass. He wanted them to see what their selfishness had done, the rage in him putting a sheen of sweat on his neck, the most angry he had ever been. 

‘He’ll be okay,’ he states, pulling them both out of the darkness of their thoughts. ‘They will all be okay.’

It’s a nice thing to say, he thinks, something that sounds reassuring and optimistic, but he wonders, quietly in the back of his mind, to whom he is offering this confidence.

Byeol startles slightly, eyes glassy and slightly glazed over with memory as she takes him in. ‘Yes, well,’ she begins, stepping out his hold to gather her things. ‘It will be good to be there for her.’

Jaebeom watches her move towards the door, hands balled into fists and pressing his nails into his palms. It’s more visceral now, somehow more tangible than ever, the unease he feels when he thinks about their blue cloaks - their endless, royal blue. 

‘Launder those when you’re done please,’ she says, coming to a halt and pointing her long index finger at the clothes piled on the bed. ‘I don’t want to be wearing any of your remains -’

Jaebeom’s eyes widen, the spell of his thoughts broken by Byeol’s teasing giggle. ‘Byeol!’

She simply steps into the hallway and moves down the stairs, her laughter carrying through the house as though the sadness had never been let in. 

It was only when you said you were leaving, announcing the date of your expected departure with wild eyes and ink stained hands, that he thought maybe, horribly, he had not told you he loved you enough. 

You showed him the boarding papers, the crew notes, the bonds list and you were laughing, disbelieving that good fortune could shine on the persistent. Years of work had culminated in this opportunity, and you could not tear your eyes away from the King’s signature, it’s black script so formal you pressed your fingers to your lips to hide the ferocity of your smile. He loved you most then, burning in silence and struggling to find the right way, the best way, to tell you that his love for you demanded he become monstrous, too many hearts in his chest to contain the totality of this wanting.

‘It will be the longest we’ve ever been apart,’ you said, chancing a look at him, and the briefest flickers of grief walked across your face. In an instant, you tucked them away, smoothed your smile over and put the light back in your eyes, hiding from him the very thing that could bring him to his knees.

‘I’ll send a hawk to woo you,’ he offered, the smile tugging at his lips only half genuine, only half true. 

He was certain you knew it, too, but you simply chuckled, arched one perfect brow and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

‘You’ve already done that.’

He only had a week to show you that he loved you beyond reason, beyond the human capacity for emotion. One week, and you would be gone, drifting away from him at sea, and he would be waiting, always waiting. 

‘Then I’ll do it again.’

Again and again he would do his best to win you over, holding you tightly against his chest and reminding you there was nowhere as safe, nowhere as sacred as against his skin, against his heart. You leaned up to kiss him, always eager and impatient for the things you wanted most, but he breathed against your lips, let your twin exhales unify your heartbeats and reminded himself that you were still here.

He could feel you. You were still there.

Jaebeom wakes with a start, hairline dampened with warmth, stress, and confusion. 

The dawn breaks through the sheer curtains of his bedroom window, the heat in the room oppressive and stifling as the embers within the furnace strain to match the gleam of the sun. Curled in a ball atop the lambskin carpet at the foot of his bed, the joints of his knees and elbows are aching, having been forced into one position too long. Tentatively, he stretches his limbs with a low groan, elongating his back against the floor and does his best to remain quiet in his relief. 

When he’d returned home, you were still sleeping. Unchanged and in the exact position he had left you, a brief anxiety overtook him at the sight of your too relaxed face and the weakness in your limbs. There was a fragility in you that frightened him, a treacherous sort of quiet that promised great annihilation consuming the room and reaching down, deep within his ribs, compressing his lungs. He would have shed tears for you, would have unleashed an expression of grief so holy and so silent it would have broken worlds - but you moaned, almost regal in your suffering, and, for a moment, he was weightless.

In the tense tranquility that followed he slumped into the reading chair beside his bookcase, head buried in his hands, and sighed. With his eyes closed, he could pretend things had not changed, that he was still himself, that he still belonged to himself. It was as though there were two of him, battling within his blood - the one that knew nothing, that craved the assurance and predictable simplicity inherent in the life he had built for himself. 

But the other is violent, a torrent against his bones reminding him this life is not his, that you are his life, and the passion in him is pushed into madness at the notion of not being able to follow where you have gone.

‘All this?’ he lamented into the rough skin of his palm. ‘All this over the desire to be loved?’

The moon was midway through its journey across the sky when he fell asleep, nestling into the rug at the foot of your bed - at your feet, though still giving you the distance, giving himself the distance. And all night he had seen you, felt you, let his whole world become enamored with you.

Pressing the base of his palms into his eyes, he groans, letting the dark become coloured with reds, whites, and purples under the pressure. Rustling from somewhere in the room makes his heart stutter in its rhythm, motions still and muscles tense with the effort of not moving, simply listening. His is not the only breath in the room, and when he takes his hands away from his eyes, his vision adjusts to see you - your face framed by your hair as you lean over the bed, regarding him curiously. 

Startled, Jaebeom sits up, head dizzy with the sudden movement, and he presses a hand to his temple though he does not close his eyes, fearing he might still be dreaming. A dark night lives in your irises, hungry for everything that comprises his very being, and even as he lets his vision focus, lets himself recline into the intensity of your stare, he feels as though you are burning inside him, tearing your way through his sinew, the most voracious thing he’s ever seen. You regard him, unblinking, studying every detail and nuance of his features with tension in your brow and parted lips. 

Briefly, he wonders how long it has been since someone looked at him like this, looked at him as though he is both the universe’s greatest secret and its most coveted answer.

‘You’re awake,’ he manages, throat dry and voice constricting beneath such coveted attention.

Instantly, he curses himself for such a simple and obvious statement. All night he had imagined hundreds of first conversations with you, knowing his first words with you would ultimately be the most important, and already he has betrayed himself. You’ve taken all the power from him, left him in such a state of shock, he supposes his words have withered, nothing in the world as sacred as your eyes on him. 

But the smile you offer him at the sound of his voice could combat the sun, the world brightening around the fullness of your cheeks and the pleasure you keep at the corner of your lips, like a secret. A blush burns at the tips of his ears, and he is glad it does not immediately live in his cheeks, pleased he has learned, somehow, to not give himself away all at once. 

‘I am,’ you nod in affirmation. A chill walks down Jaebeom’s spine, the sound of your voice an echo of his dreams, exactly as he heard it all night long. ‘You found me.’

Seconds stretch between your bodies, an infinite eternity between your last syllable and his first breath, his eyes on yours like a pledge of loyalty. 

‘Were you looking for me?’

Hope invades his words without his permission, helpless against their desire to be the thing you sought most, to be lucky enough to be your prize. His fingers press into the soft strands of the carpet beneath him, and he watches as you fall back against your legs, shoulders slumped as you look around the room. All at once, emptiness overtakes you, the light in your eyes dimming as you search within yourself for an answer.

‘I don’t know,’ is your whispered reply. Looking at him once more, he feels as though you are rooting within his soul, continuing the expedition within him. But still, you are lost, voice adrift and lost at sea. ‘I can’t remember.’

He smiles encouragingly, wanting you to know, more than anything, that it is okay. For himself, he reminds you both that everything is okay.

Inching along the carpet, he clears his throat as he rests his arms on the bed, gazing up at you as though he is making wishes on the moon. He wants to be close to you - more than he’s ever wanted anything, Jaebeom wants to be in your orbit, close enough he could taste the salt that still lingers on your skin. Biting his tongue, he swallows all his rushed, messy emotions and clears his throat, choosing instead the words of logic, the words of practicality. 

‘What is your name?’

Little by little, your smile slowly fades, burned by this simple question. Still, you remain calm, perplexed and unsure of how much of you has truly been misplaced. ‘I don’t know.’

‘That’s okay,’ he reassures you gently. ‘My name is Jaebeom.’ In saying his name, he waits for a flicker of recognition, a response that would confirm all he has spent the night feeling, but you simply regard him blankly, glad for the conversation. Shaking his head, he sighs. ‘How did you get here?’ he tries, keeping his voice calm so you find no reason to panic or run.

Now, your smile disappears completely and all that is left behind is you, your sadness, and the way it clings to your body like a shadow. The smallness of you in this moment puts an ache in his chest that feels like an inheritance - something he has been owed, that you owed one another having vanished in the completeness of your unknowing, and, together, you grieve. With a slow shake of your head, you confirm there is a void surrounding the nature of your being and the reason for your arrival, and the longer he looks the more he sees how this torments the deep desire that quakes inside you.

He knows nothing of you, knows only that you are here and you are tangible and you are emptied, but still he can sense you are a wild, impossible beast of a woman. The storm in you could tear the world asunder, and so he tries a different tactic, choosing to ask what is felt rather than what can be recalled, wanting to hold onto as much of you as he possibly can.

‘Are you hurt?’

For a long moment, you consider his question, as if thinking through the concept of hurt, the very notion of it, rather than the truth of it. Running his eyes over your frame, he notices that some bruises on your arms have already faded, as if the midnight sky was your healer. You are far healthier and far more whole than the person he found yesterday, but there is a strangeness to the way you look at him, to the way you think through his questions that gives him the passing sensation that you are not there at all.

He fears, all the way down to his marrow, that if he were to look away, you would disappear completely.

‘It does hurt, yes,’ you admit finally. Offering him a small nod of confirmation, your eyes grow wide as though you yourself are surprised by the experience, the ability to truly hurt a clandestine experience.

Jaebeom had feared this. Always, the most lethal of wounds are the ones not worn on the skin. ‘Where?’

Slowly, you lift a hand to your chest, right above your heart. Pain etches itself on your face, the turmoil of bewilderment and confusion, the misery of things long lost, making a home of your soft features. He watches your brow knit together as you regard him, a slight downturned frown tugging at your lips as you silently beg him for answers. 

Reaching a hand forward, his fingertips nearly graze the smooth skin of your knee, exposed between the ripped threads of your silk dress. When he’s close enough he can feel the warmth from your skin, he remembers himself, retreating back to curl his hand into a fist.

‘Did a man hurt you?’ 

He hates the way the words taste, sour and acrid on his tongue, but he supposes this dress is your wedding gown and he’s seen more than his fair share of broken hearts around town. This, of course, would be the worst he has ever seen, but he chooses not to worry you further, keeping his voice soothing and calm.

‘No,’ you shake your head, looking beyond him into a distance that is both contained within and expanding outward. ‘Not one,’ you continue with a dark whisper. ‘Many.’

Jaebeom does not think himself a man prone to violence or aggression but, in a single moment, he feels his heart is a weapon. His spine straightens as he rears back slowly, relying entirely on the support of the floor beneath him. His hands are no longer his own, knuckles taught with the desire to tear his way through flesh and sinew. There is no limit to the monstrous creatures he would face standing up for you; he’s burning, fully ablaze alongside you, and it surprises him how quickly kindness can burn away.

‘We can report it when you are well enough,’ he announces, clearing his throat in the effort of remembering himself. As much as he would go to battle for you, he similarly does not want to frighten you. ‘When you remember the details we can report it. They won’t get away with it.’

Shoulders relaxing, your hand falls away from your chest as you find comfort in his words, and a small sense of pride prickles at his ears and neck. With anyone else, he’d be sheepish that he is giving himself and his emotions away so quickly with you, but he can’t help it, he thinks. Not when you look at him like this, like he’s the part of summer you’ve been anticipating most and are pleased by the mere sight of him. People don’t look at him like this, especially the people he wishes would look at him and want to continue the mere act of seeing him. You make him feel like someone, and he is more with you than he ever has been on his own. 

Keeping your eyes on his, you shift so you rest on your hands and knees, crawling across the bed towards him. Jaebeom leans back, pushes himself away from the bed and it is only when the heat from the still burning furnace threatens to sear his chemise that he pauses, looking over his shoulder to pout at the proximity. Your hand presses against his foot, stopping his movements and he returns his focus to you once more, all breath and blood flow halted in his veins. 

You’ve climbed off the bed, settled on the floor with your hand on him and a glimmer behind your eyes that says you know he has longed to be touched. Has he been real before this moment? Has he truly existed until the moment you placed your hand on his skin, a paradoxically cold warmth that sends a chill up his legs and into his groin. Until this moment, he has been afflicted with the strangest sense of object permanence, but only of himself - himself and his relation to you, the only thing that has ever truly mattered.

‘You won’t come close to me,’ you explain, sounding terribly sad.

Deflating, he leans forward and places his hand on yours, finally, running his thumb along your knuckles. The salt from the sea has turned your skin into the softest thing he’s ever touched, and he applies just enough pressure to remind himself you are tangible, real, present. 

There’s something familiar and, simultaneously, ephemeral about the way his hand moves over yours. He finds it impossible to look away as he explains, ‘I wanted to give you space.’

‘I’ve had enough,’ you counter, and the sharpness in your words has him taking in your lips, your cheeks, your face in wonder. You are every bit the tempest he knew you would be, and he smiles, amused and gladdened by your confident vehemence.  

Pulling your hand out from under his, you raise it to the side of his face, tucking strands of hair behind his ear and letting your fingers glide along his cheekbone. The intimacy leads him, momentarily, to believe that he is completely naked, exposed to you in all the ways that could truly break him. Once more, he feels you searching within him for something you can almost grasp. Words live and die on his tongue, answers he too craves fading before he has the chance to truly process them.

You are unified in this complex looking, the act of remembering both a mysterious and a fact.

‘You’re familiar to me.’ Cocking your head to the side as you speak, the childlike curiosity you exude has him pressing his hands into the carpet, reminding himself it is still too early to take hold of you, too early to hold you against his heart as he had done in his dream.

‘Have we met before?’ he offers gently.

Excitement colours you, has you straightening as you pull your hand from his skin. ‘Do you know me?’

It’s his turn to shake his head, his turn to smother hope with little disappointments. ‘No.’

‘Then I suppose not.’ 

With a slight shrug, you return your hand once more to the side of his face, palm cupping his cheek to trace the contour of the bone. Little by little, your eyes soften and a silent yearning overtakes your features. Jaebeom wants to tell you everything when you look at him like that. Things he’d never breathe to another person, things he had long since forgotten rise up in his throat and he nearly chokes on them, wanting you to have absolutely everything.

Running your thumb over his bottom lip, a blissful sigh escapes from the center of your chest, eyes slightly glazed as you luxuriate in the texture of his skin beneath your finger. ‘I don’t mind, though. I like looking at you.’ 

How like a child he feels when he is with you - suddenly restless and impatient and young, the boundaries and the calculated logic he has spent years cultivating in his adulthood dissolving the moment he learns you are pleased with him. In his dream, he somehow knew your kisses were a hurricane, all raindrops and wild winds that made his skin feel electric. The way you seem to tear through him now is a confirmation he was correct, the summer in you so immaculate he thinks it is always the bloom of July in your soul.

Were he to look elsewhere in the room, he is certain it would be a betrayal - the treachery of looking away from the gods’ sky. Jaebeom is calmed by the sight of you, the anxious itch in the back of his mind dormant simply because you have decided he is worthy of being adored. He wonders where he has been looking all this time, if he has truly seen anything at all until this moment, the colours of the world infinitely more rich because of how you choose to wear them. 

Clearing his throat, he looks briefly at your hand where it holds his foot like a cross and trembles. ‘I like looking at you, too.’ It feels so silly and unimpressive, repeating your words back like a parrot, but he means it - there is more conviction in those small words than any other promise he has ever made and, when he looks at you again, he hopes you can feel it.

Your answering smile is so rich and full, he finds his thoughts are rendered unintelligible, and so he lowers his gaze to the ripped dress that does its best to maintain the echo of its former shape.  

Clearing his throat, he slowly pulls his foot out from your grip, skin tingling from the loss of contact. The warmth from your hand still lingers, and he frowns, regretting his decision even through his commitment to the choice. Pressing his hands to the floor, he rises to stand and brushes off his trousers, looking for ways to keep his hands busy.

‘Can you stand?’ You look up at him, expectant and congenial. ‘Are your legs strong enough?’

Copying his earlier movements, you press your hands into the floor and, unsteadily, lift yourself to a stand. For a moment your knees wobble, but you keep your eyes on his, shoulders rolling back as you take in a slow inhale. Finding your balance takes focus, brow knotted together with the effort of standing on weakened muscles, but you keep your feet planted, hands spread at your sides to aid in maintaining your center of gravity. And when you stand, stable and sure, at your full height, you nod proudly, delighted you have surprised yourself.

‘Good.’ The most natural thing in the world, he finds, is praising you; a long dormant habit awakening once more ‘I’m actually not sure what I’d done if you couldn’t,’ he admits sheepishly.

Amidst your infectious giggle, Jaebeom finally has an opportunity to truly take in the state of your clothes. He wonders what torment you have seen, what hell you’ve walked through that has torn the silk and chiffon down to the essence of their threads. The bodice hugs your waist, but the whalebone corset is torn at the ribs, threatening to expose your skin. There will be no saving the sleeves that hang limply off your shoulders, falling behind your back like a ragged cape. Sea water has stained the silk to a tarnished, bleak yellow, the sand of the seabed nestled deep within the folds of your skirts. 

Still, too much of your skin is visible to him. The skirts have pulled away from the bodice and a large portion of your thigh remains bare, the other leg free of clothing from the ankle to just above your knee. Standing before him, he sees you as a survivor of a slaughter that bore no claws, and he aches to pull you close, to keep you safe, to remind you that you are whole.

Perhaps, he thinks, the reminder is mostly for himself.

‘I brought you some clothes,’ he announces gently. Gesturing vaguely to the wardrobe in the opposite corner, his nerves get the better of him, words becoming bashful. ‘You look like the size of my sister, so they should fit.’ Running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands to alleviate the tension in his wrists, he pulls himself out of your orbit and heads toward the wardrobe.  ‘We need to go into town anyway to see the medic, so I can get you some if these don’t fit properly. I just…’ 

Opening the doors, he pulls out the clothes he borrowed from his sister- stays for night time, two pairs of trousers, a woolen skirt he remembers buying for his sister one solstice that she has never worn, and three chemises he hopes will fit you. He lays them out delicately on the bed, arranging them into outfits he hopes you find comfortable. Fixating on the trousers, he looks at them too long as his stomach drops. Indolon is one of the few islands where women wear trousers, their propensity for skirts just as enthusiastic and common. He hops the sight of them will not offend you.

‘Thank you.’ Approaching the bed with light, careful steps, the smallness of your voice does little to mask your immense gratitude, hands coming to graze the myriad of fabrics he has selected. 

Something about the feel of them between your fingers astounds you, a stunned silence turning adding a weight to the room that did not previously exist. 

‘These are beautiful.’ Your hand moves to the skirt, the difference in its texture putting a glee in your eyes that makes his heart swell. ‘Thank you for caring for me,’ you finish, finally looking up at him once more.

Time bleeds past him as he falls into you, falls beyond himself and into a love that consumes him. Around your body, light seems to vibrate, uncertain how to hold you and so it holds all of you, and none of you, at once, bending around your back until he wonders if the very nature of this conversation is merely an illusion. Should he look away, he worries you would vanish, that he might forget, and so he steps near enough that he might touch you. 

Keeping his hands forced at his sides, he drowns momentarily in his wanting before he speaks. ‘Anyone would do it.’

Lowering the skirt, you reach up to cup his face, forcing him to look at you. A shiver walks down his spine, followed swiftly by an unfamiliar heat in his blood as you speak. ‘I don’t remember much of the world, but I do remember that is not true. Not everyone would do as you have done.’ You lean into him, close enough your breaths touch between your bodies, his entire existence narrowing to this single moment. ‘I’m grateful for you.’ 

All of him craves giving in to the boundless lust that rages within his chest, memories of his dream resurfacing to haunt his bones. There were other memories within that dream, memories of your body wrapped beneath his, memories of your lips and the way you always pressed hard against his mouth, ensuring he would feel you long after you had departed. Jaebeom wants to live in those memories now, wants to force them into his reality so badly his hands and his sides start to shake.

But in those memories, lives the texture of your skin and the way his fingers have mapped every node of your spine. And it is only when he recalls the distant blur of this experience, so foreign to him it is as though it belongs to someone else, that he remembers there is nowhere in his home for you to undress.

When he had selected this house by the sea, he had assumed his life would contain the dawn, the dusk, the ocean, and little else in between. His home is merely one large square, the kitchen bleeding into his open bedroom and the sitting area tucked into corners he felt would be comfortable. There is, fundamentally, no element of privacy, and this is the only thing, he thinks, that gives him the strength to pull away - the desire to keep you comfortable and to be polite his only saving grace.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbles, taking one small step back. It is enough for his head to become clear, enough for the sadness in your eyes at the separation to not sting like a bullet. ‘I can leave you to change.’ 

He moves around you, not really certain what he would say should you inform him you will need assistance with your bodice and corset. They are torn enough and ruined enough he imagines they will not be a problem, but the mere idea of his fingers accidentally caressing the smooth expanse of your back puts a tightness in his chest the magnitude of which has him both frightened and bewildered. 

Jaebeom does not want people like this, certainly does not want them this badly and with this much conviction, and so he walks through the bedroom and into the kitchen, the cool metal of the doorknob a balm against his skin. And it is only when he is outside, eyes closed as he lets the breeze overtake his heart, his spirit, his soul, does he feel like himself once more.

It is only when he is in an entirely different location, far enough away from you he cannot feel you, that he remembers to breathe.

The walk to town, by your side, is among the most eventful experiences of his life. 

Having roamed the island roads all his life, he has grown used to the view, the unchanging scenery resulting in him finding it to be rather dull and grey. He cannot remember the last time he saw this world with fresh eyes, the last time he took in the trees, the slope of the land and felt joy - the last time this world brought him pleasure. You however, combat the very essence of his ennui with your inherent enthusiasm, taking in every sight and every sound as if it is, not the first time you have witnessed them but, the first time you have reunited with them after many years away. 

In you, a language of reconciliation is being cultivated - one that only you will be able to understand, and one that makes Jaebeom cast you curious side long glances as you press your hands together in consternation. Your scrutiny of each detail slows the walk considerably, your presence somewhat distant and hollow as you struggle to define the essence of familiarity within you. Each time, it fades miserably and quickly, leaving you momentarily disheartened only for new wonder to replace the frustration once more. 

Through you, he begins to see the town as something eternal, something so long lasting and sacred that, even if it is forgotten, it is still unchanged and important enough to be missed. Selfishly, he ponders what place he held in your old life, if he held any place at all, aware that, sometimes, you look at him with this same questioning fixation. In his own life experiences, you appear missing, but the way you look at him and touch him assures a small, needy piece of his heart that he is remembered, and therefore not ephemeral. 

Still, he is certain you have been here, on Indolon, that this is your home and nowhere else. Having decided to forgo the shoes he had taken from his sister in favor of your bare feet, claiming it felt more natural to feel the earth beneath your toes, your steps are confident as you walk. Your eyes take everything in with too much intensity, but your steps are sure, certain of the placement and used to the cracks and the gravel that line the journey. When you are not focused on a building, a face, a view, you do not follow behind him. Instead, you are perhaps just a hair’s breadth ahead of him, relaxed in your inherent certainty. 

‘Is any of this triggering your memory?’ he quietly tries, hoping he does not completely disrupt your train of thought.

‘Yes, but at the same time no.’ Your lips continue moving even as your voice dies, murmuring mysteriously to yourself as you look around. ‘It’s like I’ve seen this before in a dream, but then anything can look like anything if you want it to badly enough.’ Offering him a sly smirk, you peer up at him through your eyelashes. ‘I still like looking at you the most, though.'

Heat paints pink smears along his cheeks, and he glances down to his feet momentarily to smile at himself, flattered and, helplessly, twitter-patted. With you beside him, so close, his fingers dig into the pockets of his coat, gripping the cloth in the effort of stifling the desire to reach for your hand.

'Thank you,' he begins, his smile unwilling to fade. Still, he does his best to warp his features into a serious expression. 'I'm glad I'm more interesting than trees and brick.'

The music of your laugh is an eruption, the juicy fullness of it breaking over his tongue and filling his mouth with unprecedented gladness. You are unshy with your laughter, endearingly liberal and letting it echo through the air, demanding everyone hear your pleasure. Jaebeom swallows thickly, feeling almost as though he can taste you on the wind, in his mouth, and he holds his breath wanting to keep you inside him just a moment longer.

'I'm serious,' you tease, nudging into his side

Passing the field of pink and blue wildflowers, you become transfixed by a group of small children playing amongst the grass. Holding hands, they jump and dance in a circle, their laughter interrupting the song they are singing in broken unison. He recognizes the nursery rhyme of Ciperion immediately, remembering how his sister and some of the older children would make him play this game with them, dancing in a circle until the song ended and they had to remain completely still. Always, one of his sister's older friends, usually the boy she had a crush on, would play Ciperion, choosing a victim to steal away from the group. Only then would the circle continue dancing over and over until only one player remained and they had to outrun Ciperion to win.

He chuckles at the memory, how petulant he always felt at being the first one out - always, and without fail. Now, he realizes it was merely because of his strong reaction to being taken that made it more entertaining for his sister's friends, his cries and yells something they would tease him about for days.

‘What are they singing?’ you ask softly, interrupting his thoughts.

Jaebeom hears your voice and looks to his side, finding you are no longer with him. Turning, he finds you have come to a halt alongside the edge of the field, watching the children with a dark fascination that runs a chill down his spine.

He approaches you slowly, looking between the children and you, finding the tether of your fixation to be unbreakable. ‘The song of Ciperion,' he explains gently. 

When you look at him again, your inquisitive expression is marred by such a sincere sense of aloneness his throat runs dry. Your prying eyes demand more from him, demand explanations and answers, so greedy and so painfully hopeful he wonders what the word wounded in you. 

‘It’s an old urban legend on the island,’ he begins, looking back at the children who have now stilled, a little girl roaming behind the group with her hands raised like claws. ‘Everyone knows it, primarily because we grow up hearing it from friends or parents. It’s really just a ghost story. Parents tell it to make sure their children don’t go too far near the shore if they can’t see them, and kids tell it amongst friends just to see who is the most brave.’

Mystified, you keep your eyes on the group of children. ‘And it’s a song?’ 

He shakes his head, meeting your eyes on the raised arms and laughing faces of the children, hoping this contact of just your twin gazes is a comfort. ‘Not really, no. It’s a story, but it’s so old it’s become a nursery rhyme.’

‘Tell me.’

Jaebeom hums, trying to remember the way his mother told him this story when he was small. ‘Centuries ago, there was a ship called Ciperion that was meant to arrive at Port Vela.’

At the word Ciperion, you bristle, eyes widening slightly, though if in terror or recognition he cannot tell.

‘It was commissioned by the King, back when there were Kings,’ he continues, watching your reactions in the corner of his eye. ‘In those days, it was the fastest ship ever created, and had been assigned one of the largest crews - they called it the jewel of the sea. The crew was composed of experts in every field - cartography, cosmology, anthropology - and the ship’s sole mission was exploration.’

When you finally look at him, the heat from your gaze puts a fire in his veins, the sheer fervor and earnestness of your attention making him shudder. Swallowing thickly, he continues. 

‘Legend says that they reached an island and saw how corrupt the Indolon King had been, how far reaching his power and torment really was.’ In the field, a little boy is taken by a young Ciperion, his scream of surprise mingling with the relieved laughter of the other children. ‘They rushed home to stop him from destroying their land, but the ship never made it. No one knew where the ship had gone, especially because the waters had been calm the night of their intended arrival.’

‘So they all perished?’ Even as the words leave your mouth, your focus turning back to the children, he knows this question is not meant to be answered, a small voice in the back of his mind advising him you already know this answer. Its rhetorical nature is anguished, lost, full of a yearning he presumes no language could ever express.

Coughing to clear his throat, Jaebeom nods knowing you cannot see him, and continues. ‘The lighthouse stayed on for weeks, even on clear nights. But still, Ciperion never came back.’

The silence in you is a sea, and once more he presses his fingers in the fabric of his jacket, warring within himself to keep his hand still. Your own hands look lonely, hanging limply at your sides as though you have been defeated by something much larger, and much more complex, than just your lack of memory. As he studies your changing expression, he counts the emotions that swim over your features - anger, fury, loss, grief, and, strangely, happiness - before you settle on none of these, choosing instead to remain empty. 

But the magnitude of this choice renders you disheartened, tears pooling in your eyes, and he watches you swallow, fighting them back to the depths within your heart.

‘There’s never been any proof that Ciperion was real,’ he offers, hoping this will aid in bringing you comfort. It was never real, he supposes, and so there is no need to mourn the loss of made up things.

Yet, this consolation does not help, only serves to insight frustration, hands at your side curling into small fists as your eyes narrow. 

Looking back at the children, Jaebeom combats the ever creeping flush at his neck and ears with the rest of the story. ‘Some say that every twenty years, on the anniversary of its port date, you can see the ghost ship Ciperion sailing along the horizon, looking for ways to dock. Only if the night is clear, that is.’

‘And if it isn’t?’ you question, a bitterness biting at your words that takes him aback.

‘If it’s cloudy,’ he offers delicately, ‘the fog along the water is so thick it blocks the lighthouse altogether. It moves up from the water onto the shore, looking for ways into houses or into town as if it has a mind of its own. And if it touches land, you can hear screams in the clouds themselves.’

As if they never happened at all, as if, all along, you nothing of this story had touched a bleeding wound within you, the tears in your eyes seem to dissolve. Your hands unfurl from their fists, and a touch of pink warms your cheeks. There is contentedness all over you, and you turn to face, a pleasant smile tugging at your lips.

‘That’s a nice story,’ you say, simply, blinking up at him in genuine interest.

A laugh bursts from his chest, one that comes from nowhere at all and instead is a bark of surprise rather than a logical expression of amusement. Furrowing his brow, he laughs to himself through the fear and the confusion, waiting for your earlier expression of grief to overtake you once more. But when it does not come, when you giggle along with him merely because it is something to share rather than an honest or sincere experience of humor, he silences himself with a low grumble and kicks the stones at his feet.

‘Yes,’ he agrees quietly. ‘It’s just something we grow up hearing, but nothing ever comes of it.’

‘Is it the anniversary, then?’ You smile up at him, seeming happy to be included in a story, happy, too, to be sharing his company, and you press your bare feet into the stones, making little shapes with your toes. ‘They’re singing with so much fervor.’

‘Yeah,’ he hums in confirmation, watching you draw circles into the earth. ‘Actually, I think it’s tomorrow.’

‘And will you look for the ship?’ 

Cocking his head to the side questioningly, he studies your face as he speaks. ‘Would you like to?’

‘Are you asking me?’ you press, tilting your head to the same angle as his. The sight of you makes his breath catch, your beauty always somehow the most arresting, the most bewitching, but watching you mirror his position creates an uncanny sense of unease in his belly. ‘I’m not sure what I would be looking for,’ you finish, uncertainty lacing your tone.

‘I’m not either,’ he laments, furrowing his brow as he takes you in. There are so many things he’d like to say to you, only to you, so many things he’d like to ask, but starting feels painful, complicated, as though he’s attempting to speak a language he does not yet understand, so he swallows, drawing the same circles as you with his shoe. ‘I haven’t gone looking for it since I was a kid.’ Your circles are so clean, while his are oblong, and he is unsure why this matters, but he is excited, fundamentally, that there is so much he can learn from you. ‘The last time it was here, I was eight, and even then we didn’t see anything.’

Nodding in understanding you hum, knitting your brow together in consideration of his words. ‘It would be...fun?’

‘If you want to, we can,’ he chuckles, peering at you through his lashes, still waiting for another response of sadness, of melancholic heartbreak to rise up in you again. The legend of Ciperion stirred something in you, touched pieces of your spirit denying access to all else, and he thinks, perhaps, it is the tragedy of lost life and torn wood that triggers memories of spilled blood. Anyone would weep at the horror of this, and so he clears his throat, remembering true horrors are the ones humanity can touch.

‘But,’ he begins, loud enough the children in the field turn to look at them, worrying their play will be halted before continuing to sing once more, ‘you washed up on the rocks.’ Looking at you fully, he feels his chest tighten, remembering the shredded silk and the way your hair wound over the rocks, latching into deep crevices just to keep you safe. ‘People don’t just come from the sea. If there’s a shipwreck somewhere, we’d have to tell the medic and the council. That’s a more pressing ship to be looking for.’

Biting your lip, your eyes grow distant and glassy as you retreat inward, mind racing towards shadowed images that render your voice small and soft. ‘I don’t remember where I was before this.’

‘Sometimes that can happen with trauma,’ Jaebeom advises, and it strikes him that your admission does not bring despair, only annoyance at your failing memory.

Through all of this, not once have you expressed fear at the notion of death, unafraid for your own mortality even after the very essence of it has been threatened and challenged. It hits him now that the only time you have ever been afraid is when confronted with the notion of others experiencing a fate meant for you. One tale of a shipwreck, and so soon were you unmade into a dark beast, woven together by sorrow. 

Kicking the stones away from his feet, he tilts his head encouragingly, wordlessly advising that you continue alongside him. ‘The medic is one of my old school friends,’ he explains with a small grin, readying for Stefan’s loud laugh and teasing sarcasm. ‘He’ll be able to tell you more once he can run a few tests. You’ll like him. He’s quite funny.’

Walking beside him, there is a bounce to your step. ‘I remember that I like funny people,’ you announce, tossing him a playful smirk. ‘Maybe I will like looking at him as much as I like looking at you.’

Jealousy tightens itself around his ribs, the selfish desire for him to be the only thing that brings you pleasure rising in his throat like bile. It is an entirely new experience for him, the notion of love that one must remember its fragility, the sacredness of a lover's admiration more divine than the gods. Already, every breath he takes is heavy with you, body and soul hypnotized by your existence, and, in the effort of appearing aloof and affable, he grits his teeth through a humorless laugh.

‘Better not,’ he teases, though the jovial nature of it is almost nonexistent. As soon as he says it, he becomes upset with himself, the statement alone so preposterous and out of his character he shivers to shake the sound of it off his skin.

You, however, do not seem to notice, nudging into his shoulder once more as you continue on the journey.

Jaebeom has not seen the entirety of Isle Indolon, his ability to travel limited by his small income and the availability of everything he needs being centered to the town. However, he has never truly felt the need to explore, their small city of Sunridge Keep the capital of the island and therefore so full and bustling with activity he finds it impossible to muster the desire to leave. Orange red brick buildings decorated with limestone columns line the road, the gravel and dirt of the path turning into smooth cobblestone, warmed by the light of the blazing sun. 

Hissing slightly as your toes touch the warm stones, you pull your foot back in surprise, only to place it back down with careful movements, mind racing once more as you take tentative steps forward. Immediately, your eyes are everywhere, touching everything all at once. You are hungry for absolutely everything, reading names of shops, studying faces of strangers as they pass, watching the florist hand out daffodils from her wicker basket as though nothing has ever been so marvelous. The bread maker offers you a warm sticky bun, and you look instead to the man’s face, not to the pastry held in his large palm, studying him as though his name might arrive on your tongue.

Jaebeom guides you away, offering the vendor a dismissive wave of his hand, only to find your eyes latched onto something else. He grows light headed watching the trajectory of your focus, your wild discontent and ravenous hunger gnawing you into a frenzied state of almost savage inquisitiveness. There is not a single thing your gaze does not touch, and occasionally you stop in front of shop windows to look in, eyes searching ever deeper for something familiar. 

The center of town always smells the sweetest to Jaebeom, and so he leads you in this direction, hoping that the star shaped expanse and its wide angles will ease some of your tension. Childishly, he plans to acquire some roasted chestnuts, certain their candied deliciousness will provide you comfort even if it does not inspire remembrance. The throng of people eases as he approaches town center, the citadel bell chiming the late early hour, and you pause, looking up into the sky in awe. He’d always loved the bell tower - even if he did not trust the missionaries, even if he made himself believe it was deception that lurked behind their irises and not concern, he always appreciated their music. 

Leading you to the large fountain directly in the center of the star, he settles on the warm marble and gestures for you to sit beside him. The rushing water calms his erratic heartbeat, and, yet again, with his eyes closed he can pretend he is small, little more than a boy who belongs completely to himself and to his mother, the whim of his will the only thing that stirs his reason.

‘We have a bit of time to rest here,’ he says, leaning back and closing his eyes as the sun cascades over his skin. It warms him from within, the magic of his childhood returning on the breadth of a sunbeam. ‘I always like to sit here a while before I run my errands. One can never deny music, can they?’

Jaebeom awaits your response, what feels like his very spirit existing in anticipation of you. But when it does not come, his skin begins to tighten amidst another wave of unease, and he opens his eyes to find you have retreated so far within yourself the shock of it lives on your features.

Hands in your lap, your back is rigid and straight, gaze flicking between the citadel tower and the people mingling at its base - up and down and back again, rushing between each as though you will never have your fill, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek. Your fingernails pick at your skin before pressing crescent shapes into your palms, adrenaline putting you in a state of anxiety so severe he finds he, too, is sitting up straight and watching the crowd for familiar faces.

‘Do you recognize something?’ It takes work to keep his voice calm and soothing, doing his best not to startle you.

‘There’s something wrong with this,’ is all you whisper, and Jaebeom scours the crowd for a sign of injury, panic, even an out of place cart, but he comes up empty, finding nothing untoward in the surroundings.

Once more, he studies every face that passes, every horse drawn carriage that moves past, wondering which of these is the culprit for your turmoil. It is only when your hand moves to his thigh, gripping tightly enough he comes to see your grip as a vice, that he notices what it is that has you so undone. 

At the base of the citadel, the crowd has started to dissipate, the smiling faces of mothers and their children departing after receiving their blessings. A group of four missionaries stands, handing out pamphlets and greeting passerby with neutral, unreadable expressions. Their royal blue cloaks catch the late morning sun, the velvet of the fabric gleaming in all their expensive glory, putting cerulean shadows on the limestone behind them. In this way, they are glowing, ephemeral visions that at once are otherworldly and oppressive, the sort of power in their light that would bring one to their knees.

As always, he shivers at the sight of them, but your grip on his leg tightens and when he looks at you again you are murmuring to yourself and he feels his jaw go slack.

‘Murderers,’ you hiss, softly enough that only he can hear but you say the word over and over, voice rising in pitch until your voice dies altogether.

You watch them, unblinking and repulsed, the fear and loathing in you so great he sees you now as a mere apparition of the woman you once were. A great tremor has started to creep through your limbs, body rocking back and forth as though you are at sea, your center of gravity warped as you continue to look and look. 

Running his hand up and down your back in an effort to calm you, Jaebeom feels his own voice start to waver. ‘What is it?’ 

You say nothing, merely shake your head, unwilling to speak for fear that they may hear you. All his question manages to do is inspire another round of mumbling, calling them murderers only to yourself and only to Jaebeom, simply because he is close enough for your voice to reach. His eyes scour the crowd for a discreet way to remove you from the fountain, looking in the direction of Stefan’s practice only to drop to a disappointed frown. In front of the pathway, at his end of the star,a group of people have gathered to inspect a vendor of Veruvian silk.

‘Murderers,’ you say again, and this time it is loud enough that a young boy passing by hears your voice, his eyes widening in surprise. 

Jaebeom grimaces apologetically, waving the boy along as he pulls you into his side, holding you close. Even in his state of panic, his heart breaks that this should be the first time he holds to him, the first time you would be able to remember, the comfort his arms reduced to merely a time and a place, and not a feeling. The trembling in your muscles is palpable, tangible enough his hands feel as though they are gripping something monstrous, something absolute in its knowledge and power. In a single moment, you have become something Other, shaking against his ribs with enough violence he fears you may tear the marble of the fountain asunder. Your hand leaves his thigh and comes to grip your seat, fingers pressing against the stone until your knuckles turn white. 

He’s certain the missionaries must see you, certain this will turn into something holy and something wholly unwelcome, but they seem to pay you both no mind, their attention devoted instead to the good and to the whole.

And just when he thinks he may be able to ease words out of you, the noise of you reduced to slow, deep inhales between your parted lips and the shaking in your muscles coming abruptly to a halt, you bed over, eyes wide in shock, as you vomit sea water, seaweed, and, most horribly of all, blood at your feet.

Author’s Note: lord god, im telling you i thought this was going to be a very short story but here i am...all this with so much more to go. im just really in love with this world and actually really proud of it? ive never done anything like this and ive been in love with fisherman!jb ever since the dye preview pics came out. ive had this in my mind since i messaged @imdifferentshadesofpurple​ in may about it and im just so glad it lives. did i make an entire story out of that one promo pic and the oyster dress by alexander mcqueen? sure bet but you cannot blame me.

tag list: @red-exo​ @heatofmyexoheart​ @majci​ @yehet-me-up​ @lamichellee​ @ahgishaman​ @softly-savage-mint-yoongi​

[cosmiclatte28]

Over Cups of Coffees (Sehun x reader)

warning : fluff! flirty sehun! 

enjoy! 

"One ice Americano," the tall guy with ominous aura places his order, for a second the café suddenly feels frozen. He looks and sounds cold, but once he steps into the counter in front of you, you feel the blazing sun of summer, the cute shy smile, and a gentle stare.

"One Americano, less ice?" you question him even when you remember his order nicely in the back of your mind.

The man across you smiles, "You remember?"

You smirk, deep inside your heart you wonder how one could forget if thats the only thing he orders in every single visit.

You take his card, swipe the bill, and rush to brew his cold coffee.

Ever since the cold and hot man enters that door last week, you quickly fell for his demeanor aura. You learn his name when he ordered his first cup of coffee in a bubble tea shop. Though you find it weird why he bought coffee when you guys are known for bubble teas, you did not reject his orders; you even wished with all your heart he will be a regular here.

"One ice Americano coffee to go, for Mr. Sehun," you scream out his name, and when he walks to take the bag, your hand swiftly drops in a piece of cookie inside the paper bag. He saw you and almost say you misplaced an order, but your whisper silence him.

"Its a complementary," You panicked, "Special for the customer who has the queuing number 100."

You see him smile and you hear your coworker stifling a laugh.

"Thank you," Sehun smiles and nods his head as he takes his order, "Thank you, see you!"

He leaves the counter with his expressionless face and your shift continues. You take more orders from other customers.

One of your coworker nudges you when the rush hour is over, and the café is a bit empty. "What was that, did you put in your number on the cookie earlier?" the elf-eared tall man teases you.

You blush, when your mind teases you back with the phrase Sehun said before he left.

"Stop it Chanyeol, I did not drop my number in it. Seriously, I just wanted to treat him a cookie, whats wrong with it?" You shrug your shoulder and choose to leave to take a short break. Well, secretly you scream out of joy when you reach the storage room. Sehun, the man who creates butterflies in your stomach is slowly recognizing you.

The next day, your shift starts and as time ticks by, your heart beats faster as you expect the presence of Sehun. He shows up in his regular time, with his regular cold face just that today he looks a bit tired and annoyed. You pull up your textbook-smile and try your best to control your heating face.

"Welcome, Is it another usual menu, or are you interested in trying todays special menu?" You flash a concern look to him. He catches your attention and runs his eyes through the menu. He sighs and inserts his hands into his pockets.

"Do you have any recommendation for a bad day?"

You nod in a second, "Are you okay with Chocolates?" he nods, you type in a menu and he seems to agree with what you call 'House favorite chocolate bomb bubble tea'

Sehun hands you his card and surprises you when he asks for a table number. He brings his number and sits on the corner, the secluded chair near the windows.

You are quite surprise, he never dines inside. With a question mark in your mind, you prepare his drink and once again sneak in another slice of red velvet cake. Chanyeol catches you again and smiles widely while wriggling his brow, "Go, and take that order to his table. Let me take over the cashier and orders."

You thank him and after tidying your appearance, you deliver the drink and cake to the man sitting alone and lost in his thoughts.

"Here's your drink, and I bring you a cake to cheer you up." You move the drink and cake from your tray to his table.

Sehun's cold façade melts away when he sees the red cake and your sweet attention, "Wow! Am I the 100th customer again today?" He laughs at his own words. You feel like melting into a puddle right then and there.

He takes his time enjoying the cake and reviving his mood with your special brew, you are once again busy behind the counter and running over making different orders of drinks. You can still see Sehun from several quick glances, and that is enough to make you energized until your shift end.

After 10 minutes, the tall man in suit fleets from his chair and queue into the line in front of me. You are perplexed when he shows up again with his shy smile,"I'm here to pay the red velvet and I want the cookies you gave me yesterday. I want two of them, all packed to go." You swipe his payment only for the cookies, the red velvet is from you.

"For someone?" You ask when you take out two fresh baked cookies and wrap them nicely inside a bag.

Sehun shakes his head, "It's for me, and Im working overnight today. The cookies will be my acquaintance tonight."

"Have strength! Good luck," you send him off with a wave of hand.

Thats the last time you ever see him. For a good one week, you never see his nose. Chanyeol teases you repeatedly for waiting and hoping like a fool, but you shush him off. One week feels like a month and the nosey customers really drain your energy.

One night when Chanyeol is already mopping the floor and you're already turning over the chairs, the door opens and a young man in a tidy suit surprises both of you. Chanyeol glances at the door sign; it clearly is turned over already, why is he here.

"Sorry, are you closed already?" the man you missed for one week questions the two of you.

You quickly leave your current work and take over the counter, "No, we can make it work for you. We still have 5 minutes to the closing hour, but feel free to take your time."

"Usual order?" You ask while turning on the brewer and cashier, Sehun nods then take a seat at one of the table you haven't turn over.

Chanyeol bids you goodbye after his mopping is done, and you're left alone with Sehun.

"Please make yourself a drink, can you sit with me for a while tonight? Drinks are on me." he sounds hopeful.

You take his invitation, making yourself a cup of warm coffee. You carry the dark liquids and a plate of cake from the storage.

You take your seat across him, he has his coat off already and he looks breathtaking in his white shirt and loosen tie. He is busy with his cold drink, and you preoccupied your nerves with the warm caffeine. Your heart is almost bursting out of joy, here in front of you the man you crushed, you finally get the chance to sit alone with him only. You don't care what your boss will do to you, if he ever finds out about this.

Sehun picks the fork and pokes the cake, "What is this?"

You snap from your daydream, "Oh, thats a new menu. A rainbow cake, were going to release them tomorrow." He raises his brow in curiosity,

"Each color has different flavor. Please try them." You look at him expectantly when he takes the red part into his mouth. He savors the taste, munches, pokes into the next color, tastes them and when he reaches the 7th color he finally makes his comment.

"Hmm it's cool, a nice idea! It also tastes good. I am sure buying this again." Sehun's eyes brighten and he gulps down his coffee to clean his palettes.

"(y/n)," Sehun surprises you by calling your name. You almost ask where did he learn your name, but you realize you wear name tags every day. "Thank you for opening the café for me, and thank you for sitting here with me tonight."

You shake your head and hands, "No, it's not a problem Sehun. Besides, I can probably help you if you need someone to talk and share stories too. Only if you're willing too," You panicked.

Sehun thinks for a quick second and smirk, "You're probably right. I need to share what's bothering my mind. Great idea!"

It sure is a great idea for Sehun, but not for you. Sehun has just finished his story about his break up with his so called girlfriend he loved dearly. You are actually surprised to find out he has been dating for one year and got dumped last week, because poor Sehun caught her kissing another man in the park. She chose the other guy over him. Sehun concludes that he's now traumatized and he will be staying away from falling in love for a moment. He is hurt, and he doesnt want to fall in love now.

You made a mental note about this, and continue to talk about more things. As the night deepens, the cake vanished, and the coffees finished, you learn each others hobbies and favorite singers.

Sehun helps you clean up the table and turning over the chair. He drops in extra tips into the jar, then he waits for you outside as you turn off all of the machines, lights, and lock the door.

"Thank you for listening to me tonight," Sehun bashfully looks into his shoes.

"Its nothing big, Im happy if youre feeling better now. So, good night Sehun," you wave your hand to him when your bus arrives. He waves his hand back at you and descends into his car.

After that night, you remember his words where he did not want to fall in love yet. That morning, you ensure your heart that the feeling must stop. You ask Chanyeol to switch with you and take over the cashier. You choose to work in the kitchen with your other coworker, Baekhyun. You're not going to fall more into Sehun, no you need to stop before you hurt yourself.

You tell Baekhyun why you're here now and the cheerful man just pats your back, "Aw, you're burying a feeling. It's okay you still have me and Chanyeol. We're both still free and available for blind dates." He winks and succeeds in cheering you up.

Weeks passed by, you work in nice union with Baekhyun baking cakes, and preparing bobas. Your life is bright again even without seeing Sehun, until one day Chanyeol barges into the kitchen and smirks, "(y/n), he's here and he wants to see you. I can't hold it anymore, I've been telling him lies that you're not here anymore, but turns out he saw you and he wants to see you!" today.

"Who?" Baekhyun asks

You freeze in your place, is it really the same man you're thinking of?

Chanyeol sees your reaction, "You want me to shoo him off?"

You shake your head, Chanyeol suddenly remembers something, "Ah yeah, he told me to tell you this. He's ready to try it again. I don't know what he means but he told me to deliver that message to you." Your eyes widen and you turn your body to exit the kitchen door, leaving the two men puzzled.

You quickly run your eyes through the customers inside the small café, but he's not there. Your eyes catch him leaving the door with a glass of Americano in his right hand and a small pack of cookies on his left.

You did not meet him yet, but you know when you will see him again.

Thats right, tomorrow.

The last rays of sun lights are slowly fading off, the sky is beautifully painted orange and purple. You tighten the apron over your waist and with the textbook smile youre taking in orders and payments once again.

"Good afternoon, what can I help you with? Maybe a special menu today? Rainbow bubble tea made especially for you." You wink at the man in front of your cashier counter.

He chuckles, "I'd take that as a yes, if you're going to sit with me in that table at the corner."

You blush and punch in his order, "That means youre having Americano today, because I am not free until my shift ends at 9."

He glances at his watch, "Three hours is nothing compared to a week. Please add a slice of rainbow cake too! I am waiting for my date until 9 tonight." He offers you his deadly smile, and you cannot feel your legs.

Chanyeol and Baekhyun heard everything, when Sehun goes away to his chair; the two men take their cue to mess with you.

"What do you want for a drink? Let me prepare it for you." Chanyeol takes over the cup in my hand and makes the order.

"Of course strawberry boba, right?" Baekhyun winks and walks to take a slice of rainbow cake and cheese cake.

"You love my cheese cakes right? Now, go sit with him and we will take over your part." Baekhyun unties your apron and pushes you to Sehun's table direction.

What? you're surprised with the sudden situation.

"Go get your love, good luck!" the two men unite and push you into his direction. Sehun turns his head and sees you walking to him. He smiles and gets up to pull out your chair.

"Guess this is it, I don't have to wait for three hours by myself, and my date is here already."

[thatsbucknasty]

she used to be mine (iv) waitress au

pairing: Y/N x Bucky

summary: Inspired by the broadway musical. Y/N Beck is a pie baking force to be reckoned with. She’s pregnant with her lazy ass husband, Quentin Beck’s baby. As everything around her turns upside down, Doctor James Buchanan Barnes charms his way into her life.

tags are open c:

chapter 4: it only takes a taste

Time goes by so fast and I swear my uniform shrunk in the washing machine. I’ll have to ask doctor Barnes when I’m gonna start showing cause the girls say I still look normal but my clothes disagree.

Thank god Quentin’s still clueless about the baby and I’m happy about it. I just wish he’d find a job, that way maybe I could tell him and we could save money together instead of me doing all the work while he’s out having all the fun. I don’t mind that he spends a lot of time at the bar with his friends, it actually gives me a breather from time to time. I wouldn’t complain at all if he was buying his six packs with his own money. I’m worried about him though. He comes so late every night and he’s always in a bad mood, always complaining. Let’s just hope tonight his football team wins or I won’t hear the end of it.

“Y/N, did you bring me leftovers again? You bake god knows how many pies every day for the diner but you can’t bring your husband a single one that’s actually still warm and, oh I don’t know, whole?” He puts the plate aside and moves around the table to where I’m standind. God, the nerve of this man!

“You know I’m in a bad situation right now. Being unemployed ain’t easy sugar. I stay here alone all day browsing the tv, it’s taking a toll on me mentally. The least you can do is try and cheer me up a little but you’re always so tired when you come home!”

“Well, Quentin, if I didn’t have to pick up all those extra shifts to be able to pay the bills every month, then I wouldn’t be so tired. But if I don’t do that we’d be out in the street! Just go apologize to Tony, he might give you your job back!”

“Don’t you dare even mention that son of a bitch. He’s the one who should apologize to me! He took me for granted. I gave his construction company the best years of my life. I even quit my dreams for that asshole and this is how he pays me? Hell no! I’m not going back there ever”. I’ve never seen his face so red with anger before, it was a mistake mentioning Tony Stark, he simply hates the man. I’ll just manage things myself, like I’ve been doing, I guess.

“Okay then, but don’t expect me to come home to you all giddy and excited, when I work my ass off while you watch football all day and drink beer all night with god knows who. Whatever differences you two had at work ain’t my fault, Quentin. I’m gonna go to bed now, I don’t wanna keep fighting with you”. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, I can’t even stand to be in the same room as him.

-

It’s been four weeks since my first visit to the doctor and my next appointment’s this evening after work. Wanda really hit it off with Steve and since that day, they’ve been on several more dates. He even comes to the diner once or twice a week and he’s the perfect gentleman to her, both me and Nat are really happy for them. Right now he’s stuffing his mouth with my famous Spaghetti pie while listening to Wanda talk about the differences between disinfectant and bleach.

Nat’s acting strange though. I don’t know what’s up with her but she hasn’t been late to work this whole past month! Sometimes she’s even earlier than me, already helping Sam in the kitchen. Those two don’t seem to hate each other that much anymore, which is odd but appreciated.

-

Maria’s reception desk has sugarless lollipops in a vase and they look disgusting but I’ve been craving them since the last time I was here. This is my second appointment. I know the basics. I’ve met my doctor and nurse now. Then why does this feel like it’s the first time I’m here all over again? I even shaved my legs this morning and wore my hair down, but why? I open the camera app on my phone to use as a mirror. Is my face too plain? Should I have put some lipstick on? Jesus, it’s just a doctor’s appointment. I can’t help but hear Nat’s voice in my head say “yeah, but he’s a really cute doctor”.

“Doctor Barnes will see you now, Mrs. Beck, you know the drill. The robe’s in the chair”. Maria breaks me out of my trance and I follow her, change and wait for him.

“Hi, Y/N, it’s good to see you back, how have you been feeling?” He has a little more stubble on his face today. Good for him. Gives him an edge.

“Not too shabby. I still get morning sickness, thank god it only happens when I’m at work and not home, heh”.

“Oh, most women would want it to be the other way around”.

“Right. Um, Doctor Barnes?”

“Please call me Bucky, what is it?” He types on his computer and I bite my nails before asking.

“When do you think I’ll start showing?”

“Well, you’re only 6 weeks along, so maybe not for another three months or so. But in my opinion, women look beautiful when they show, motherhood really brings-” And here he goes. Nope. No more talk about that.

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I just, I haven’t told a lot of people and I’m not sure I want to yet. That’s all”.

“Okay, well, let’s check that tiny baby of yours, hop onto the table please”.

I do as he says and he smears some cold gel on my still normal belly, and then starts moving the scanner around.

“There’s the little peanut! You ready to listen to their heartbeat?” Bucky smiles at me softly and I nod.

I find myself feeling excited for the first time. And then I hear it. Steady and strong. And doctor Barnes disappears from my mind. For an instant I just hear that sound and I can’t wait to hold this baby in my arms. Everything feels connected and right.

“I’ll print you some pictures to keep and I made a recording of the heartbeat so you can have it too”.

“Thank you, I have another question though”.

“Shoot!”

“Did you like the pie?”

He’s blushing again. The rosy tone in his cheeks makes the blue of his eyes even brighter.

“Did I like- Oh my god! I can’t even begin to tell you how much I LOVED that pie! It only takes a taste, doesnt it?”

“What?”

“Y/N, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything as biblically good as that pie. I think I ascended into another dimension the moment I had that first taste. Did you really make it? Cause if you didn’t I need to know the store so I can get some more, now be honest!”

Wow. No one’s ever described my pies with such enthusiasm. I know they’re good but biblically good?

“I really made it”. I smile and tuck my hair behind my ear. Goodness, I’m the one who’s blushing now, but he is complimenting my work! 

“That’s amazing! You know you could win contests with those skills? I am not lying when I say I was transported to heaven”. I’ve never seen a man be so adorably excited over pie. It’s my new favorite thing.

“You know, I can bring you some more if you want? That is if you don’t mind eating more sugar, but don’t worry, I won’t tell your doctor”. His lopsided smile made my insides do a funny thing I hadn’t felt in a long time. This needs to stop.

“Ha, that’s funny. My doctor is my wife, she’s a dietician actually. But we’re getting a divorce, so maybe I’m divorcing the diet as well.”

And I made things awkward.

“I’m sorry”.

“It’s okay, hey, your pies are worth the few extra pounds”.

Sure, act like you don’t know how attractive you are.

“Well doctor, I’m glad you liked my pie. I gotta go now”.

“Oh, great, well um, here’s the recording and pictures. Tell Maria I’ll see you in three weeks. Have a nice weekend, Y/N. And please, call me Bucky”.

“Thank you, Bucky. Goodbye”.

 Something shifts when I say his name and he smiles in a way that makes his eyes light up. He opens the door for me and my stomach does a funny thing when I get a whiff of his scent again, it makes me want to stay there and smell it one more time just to keep it in my mind for later. Those pregnancy hormones must be all over the place.

-

chapter 5: you will still be mine

pls reblog if you liked it c:

[uwu-boll]

Yesterday I consumed nearly 4 grams of mushrooms. Here is what that was like for me:

First, this isnt my first rodeo. I've consumed psychedelics a few times before; I wouldnt call myself necessarily experienced but I have an education background in psychopharmacology and I have a couple of trips under my belt already so I knew what to expect and how it was going to feel going into it. 2 months ago. my girlfriend and I purchased 7 grams of mushrooms to split for our anniversary weekend this past week. We purchased a hotel room - I wanted to avoid doing this at home due to a very stressful living situation - and situated our setting so as to be best prepared to go about our experience. This included water, music, videogames, some snacks, etc. The necessities.

Our day started following a night of several shared margaritas and burgers between us. We went swimming, had coffee and a light breakfast, went to therapy together, and then a healthy midday lunch. Following that, we gathered the supplies for the night and settled in at around 3pm. Starting then, I measured out the dosages for the both of us; 2.75g for her, 3.87g for me (the dosages were more or less arbitrary, but we had a ballpark of what kind of experience we were looking for). She ate hers straight up, while I prepared a 'lemon tek'; powdered shrooms soaked in lemon juice for some time. There is some science behind it, but the idea is to shorten the duration or the experience while making it more intense. This also helps with digestion to prevent nausea, although there will still be some present as your body tries to 'reject' the chemical.

My shrooms sat in lemon juice for 20 mins before I tossed them all in orange juice for me to take big gulps of. Disclaimer - I HATE the taste, smell, texture, EVERYTHING about mushrooms. This... isnt necessarily better, but it's the best way to consume them short of capsules, I've found.

3:25 PM: I start drinking my pulpy orange juice - mushroom cocktail. It tastes like sour orange juice, because of the lemon juice I added, but the thought of the mushrooms in there makes me gag before I even get the concoction in my mouth. I can already tell this is going to be an endeavour. I take one big swig, maybe a fifth of the bottle, and approximately a quarter of the dose. I wait about 5 mins before taking another swig

3:35: one more swig, followed by a dab, hoping that the weed will calm my tummy. It does, but not before I nearly puke coughing up a lung

3:45: I finish the cocktail. This whole time I'm watching my girlfriend - who is approximately 15 minutes ahead of me having already dosed - set up the Nintendo switch and design a character on Tony Hawks Pro Skater, the remastered edition. She finishes, we take a dab, and we start playing. We, for some reason, start with a VS game, first to 500,000 points. I dont know why we thought that was a good idea, but we did. From here on, times are approximate.

Approximately 3:50: We are mindlessly skating in complete silence, absolute fixated in this game. I'm pretty high from the dabs as it is, so I'm spacing out and having trouble coordinating.

Approximately 4:00: I'm focused entirely on how gross my stomach feels having drank the cocktail. My body feels heavy, and it's very difficult to coordinate in the game properly.

Approximately 4:15: We are probably 100,000 points into this game before we both realize how long it's going to take before anyone wins. Were both kinda over it, and clearly struggling with performing and we only know it's going to get worse. As the come up begins, I feel a profound sense of anxiety. Recognizing it as the comeup anxiety, I dismiss it, but it's quickly becoming pretty overwhelming. The lemon tek, in shortening and intensifying the experience, creates very powerful come ups. We stop playing THPS and switch to Super Mario 3D World, which makes me feel better

Approximately 4:30: We get through 2 levels before we stop playing for the night. We decide to cuddle and try to calm each other down. We put on Bo Burnham's 'Inside' to listen to while we come up, which was a great idea because we love him. Really got us talking about our pasts and the meanings behind each of his songs. My body is very heavy, but I feel at absolute peace within it - I'm not biting my nails compulsively or shaking my legs - despite the come up anxiety and the slight nausea. I feel attached to the bed, I didnt want to get up even if I had to. I am absolutely CHEESIN, smiling so hard my cheeks still hurt a day later.

Approximately 4:45: I am staring at the wall, looking at what appears to be a pattern overlaying the texture of the wall. I see the same pattern on the bathroom floor. I'm questioning as to whether or not it's really there. I quickly move to the ceiling - a popcorn ceiling - where I am blown away; the lighting in the room makes the ceiling look both purple and green. My pareidolia is going crazy and I see constantly shifting patterns in the white noise that is the popcorn ceiling. The crazy thing is knowing that there is no pattern to the nonsense I am seeing, but making out patterns regardless. I stare at this for awhile. The ceiling is flowing like water.

The exact order of events henceforth are kind of a blur. We lay in bed for the rest of the night, but the topics of discussion vary from point to point, mostly us complimenting each other and praising each other. At some point, Inside ended, and we listened to Hamilton. However, I hardly remember both the end of Inside nor the entirety of Hamilton, and so it's likely that around d approximately 5 oclock, began the Great Existential Breakdown (TM)

At approximately 5 oclock, I was peaking. Emotions were running high, and, in response to being hungry, I had a breakdown because I hated the fact that I was born into a world dominated by cruelty, inhumanity, and the insatiable drive for profit. I hated that I lived in a world where something as simple as hunger was a problem, and that food - a human right - is commodified. I hated that consumption was obligatory, and that to feed the endless gluttony that is the human need to consume, we exploit both our fellow humans, and the planet. I hated that in that obligatory need to consume, weve facilitated this social climate in which it's okay to pollute our world and exploit the human labor condition so as long as its convenient to the consumer and profitable to the corporation. (Now that I think about it, this may have been spurned by Bo Burnhams 'That Funny Feeling', which I feel like is his most powerful song on the album. ) This quickly evolved into how being born, and forced into a world without your consent where conditions like this exist in the first place is inherently a violent act, and that having children is immoral until we create an environment where those conditions are obsolete. Then to how bullshit it is that I am forced to take care of a meatsuit for the whole of my life, but I have to pay to upkeep all of it as if i had some choice in the matter. This lead to me talking about how I wanted to be a transient observer of the universe, untethered to any physical point in space. Not quite dead, not quite alive - still able to see things happen, but not be able to participate. I then went on to say how I didnt think suicide was the answer to my problems because that doesnt necessarily get rid of the conditions that lead to my despair, but rather creates new problems for my loved ones. I knew that the key was to live in despite of the despair and to continue on in search of my own personal meaning.

This breakdown lasted approximately 3 hours and was very emotional for both of us. We spent a lot of time crying and talking about stuff weve never spoken about before. The comedown was very gentle and helped me feel very cathartic and relaxed. Over the course of the comedown I took several dabs, a few of which brought me back to 'The Wonky Space' (TM). However, this was short lived. My girlfriend sat in the tub naked from the waist down, which quickly turned into a bath, and from there, after my breakdown, we started to relax, watch some Shameless, went downstairs, got some snacks, some drinks, and went to bed.

Before I fell asleep, and once I knew the experience was 100% over, I took some time to reflect and felt very satisfied with what happened. It wasnt at all what I expected the night to be, but I felt like I needed to do that, and experience that kind of existential pain. I felt very relaxed once I got control of my body again, and that peace - the general sense of wellbeing, happiness, lack of anxiety, connectivity to my partner and my fellow man - has persisted well into the next day, and will likely continue for at least the next week. 10/10 would do again.

Would I say I had a bad trip? No. Was it a good one? N...no. but I had a great time, it was fun, and enlightening, and helped me realize where I feel like I am struggling mentally.

[demon-winchester]

Tremors Behind The Veil Chapter 6

-Chapter 6- I entered the subway station... I did my research and apparently the safehouse was quite a bit closer using the subway than just walking. I finally reached the place but the door was nowhere to be found...A blank wall with some latin inscribed to it "Invented ad guy quis nulla" and I ran it through a translate app, it meant "to the guy who invented zero". What could she mean by that...I guess I can't ask her but maybe Lydia can provide me some insight. 

I started dialing up the numbers. "Well hello, that was fast" she answered her phone. "Yeah... I ran into a problem and maybe your unlimited brilliance can help me" I replied. "Oh, you're making me blush....Don't be sarcastic just tell me what you need help with" she said and i could imagine her smiling from the tone of her voice. "Alright so, does the sentence "To the guy who invented zero" mean anything to you?" I continued. "Ummmmm I can't say it does" she answered confused. "Nothing at all?" i kept asking. "Well no genius it's literally a random sentence for me" she chuckled. "Alrighty then, well, thanks for nothing" and as i said that a door started appearing and I started laughing. "What happened?" Lydia asked. "This bitch used a pun to keep her entrance shut....To the guy who invented zero, thanks for nothing." i answered basically on the floor laughing about the situation and i was CERTAIN that Lydia was rolling her eyes. "Okay, I will have to let you go now, I have some research I need to do...maybe we'll talk later" I continued. "Alright, ciao" she said and we closed the call. Now then...time to find Touch, Lien HQ and Red Tiger. After a couple of hours of research I came to a conclusion...Finding a shapeshifter would be really time draining, demons sound like a tough foe at this time so vampires it is. I'll sleep for a couple of hours and then time to head to Touch! I set up an alarm for three hours, I put on some music *Wasteland by Neoni starts playing*, I laid down on the couch and i started drifting away. I suddenly woke up in a strange city. 

There was nobody around me, it felt desolated, the buildings were almost destroyed and the place was covered with sand...it reminded me of the desert i thought. I looked around and I saw a woman standing behind me. It was Circe, the dream version of her. I approached. "I guess your help is needed again"she smiled. "We need to start meeting under better circumstances" i smirked. "That is quite true Aiden" she answered, "I believe you chose Touch....That was quite the decision, Sylvia will tell you what you need to know and it's time for you to leave i believe" she concluded and the alarm started ringing. I got up, I took a bath and i started getting ready. Black boots,black jeans,dark red shirt,grey jacket,earrings, rings, chain and i was ready to go. Suddenly the phone started ringing and it was Lydia. "Hey, watch up" i said answering the phone. "Sup dude, what is your superhero ass doing" she said snarkily. "Oh shut up" I replied "Just getting ready to go to a club". "Ohhh spicy...I didnt know the job description had partying" she said. "Yeah of course.... You know i hate these places, you dont have to be an ass about it" I said laughing it off. "So tell me, how come you go then?" she asked. "I mean, i am still searching for Circe..plus i need my sword back if I am to have a chance." i answered. "Okay wait for me, im coming with you" she said. "Oh stay where you are love, you aint coming with me, shit could get really bad really fast" i said to her with a watchfull tone. "And that's exactly why i'm coming, you need support from a friend when shit gets down" she pridfully replied. "No offence but if something bad happens the only friend i need is a fucking nuke so sorry not sorry, you're staying where you are" i said. "You know how much i hate you sometimes don't you?" she complained. "Well let me prove you otherwise, let's say i owe you a coffee..how does that sound?" I teased her. "Just that?...No deal, you still suck" she chuckled. "A coffee aaaand i'll have you on comms while i go to the club...i could really use a friend on a sucky place" i said wih a small smile. "It's Saturday night and you think i'll stand by on comms and keep you company?.... You are absolutely right" she replied and i could almost see her smile. "Fantastic just an fyi though, since it's kind of undercover i won't be able to answer you every time...just so you wont get worried"i said. "Alright" she replied. It was time to go. "Let's find Sylvia" i thought to myself while passing by the bouncer and he didn't seem amused. I was walking down the corridor, it was like a small tunnel leading to the entrance. The walls had some kind of fur, people leaning on them, some laughing, some puking, some staring. Purple and pink lamps lit the whole place and they made it feel like a fever dream. "These are going to be a bitch to walk through while drunk" I uttered silently. Following the music i arrived to the main room opening the doors.The room was gigantic. Glass panels were on the roof, cages with dancers inside them and a door on the other side of the room,the boss's room I thought. People were dancing, drinking and having fun... these places were never my kind of thing. I sat on the bar and I ordered a red wine. " A wine on a club....either a meeting or you're just boring" said the barwoman handing me my glass. "Maybe both, maybe neither" i said taking a sip. "So tell me what else do you do except pouring drinks and judging people darling." I continued. "ohhh the barwoman....spicy" Lydia said through the comms. "A man being just a bit of an asshole and not a full fledged one, a rare kind these days but nevertheless don't try hitting on the barwoman, you never know what she'll pour on your drink kid" said the barwoman with a wink. "I dont mix bussiness with pleasure unfortunately" i said. "Are you sure unfortunately is the right word?" the barwoman said interrupting me. "Ouchhh ruthless but i'll let it pass. Tell me though, do you know a woman called Sylvia? I heard she's running this place" i continued. "And who wants to talk to her?" said the barwoman. "Circe" I replied. "You don't really seem like a Circe but you do you, i'll go get her for you" the barwoman said smiling and she started leaving. " So, is hitting on the barwoman part of the undercover mission?" Lydia said. "Well no but if you form a small connection with a person, even someone who doesnt know your name, they are more likely to help you." i answered taking a sip of the wine. "I am so fucking sure you drank a bit of wine after saying that just too feel smart" Lydia said annoyed and I almost chocked from laughing. "Okay shhhhh i think she's coming" i said wiping wine of my face. "Oh you sir are not Circe" said the woman.  

"Hello. sorry for using this name but i need to talk to you...somewhere more privately" i said in an apologetic tone. "Haha, no" she groaned. "Im sorry, what?" i asked. "What you just heard. You think you can barge in here and use her name?!" she said. With that she extended her arm, she hit me on my chest and I was now put up against the wall with the drinks. You could hear the shattering of the bottles and the whole place smelled of expensive vodka. I tried to move her hand but she was still keeping me there. She started hitting me again and again. "Why" was all I could mutter through the hits. "Why?!?!?!" she asked angry. "You barge in my club uninvited and you refer to yourself as Circe. You degenerate, you should've known what using this name in here would've caused you! ". She dropped me down and I could hear Lydia talking worried through the comms. "And who is your little friend talking to you." Sylvia continued. She took the Bluetooth out of my ear and she continued hitting me. "You leave her out of this" I screamed and she started laughing while kicking me in the face. "You dare talk to me like that inside my own domain you filth! I am the queen of the vampires and when I talk you bow! Now it's time to find your friend...." she said. I couldn't let this happen. I summoned my armor, I was still wounded wearing it but I had no choice. "Ugh, i never liked reapers... I knew that horrid musk was coming from you, I could smell you before you entered." she groaned. "Ohhh and I just had a bath before coming here... I'm gonna write a strongly worded email to the shampoo company" I said spilling while blood and looking at her with a smile. "We have a witty one today...They tend to taste a bit bitter. So you think you're funny?" she said. "What can I say, a jester fit for a queen" I continued with a stupid grin. And with that she kicked me on the stomach, at this point I could taste my own blood. "You'll show respect when I talk to you!" she yelled and she continued hitting me. "I'll break you tonight and I'll wipe that stupid smile off your face even if I have to sew your mouth shut" she continued with an evil grin. She grabbed me by the neck and she held me up."TURN OFF THE MUSIC" she yelled, silence befell the room and everyone was looking at her "THAT'S WHAT HAPPENS TO ANYONE WHO DISRESPECTS ME!" she screamed and you could see all the people saying "yes miss" with fangs in their mouths. I walked right into a nest. Circe had told me that but I thought normal humans would be among them.How many people are actually Accursed..... Suddenly one of the bouncers opened the doors, wounded and horror itself swam throughout his eyes. A black whip emerged from behind him, wrapping him and dragging him right before our eyes... His screams suddenly stopped.

[eremika-forever12]

Eremika Fanfic : Remember Me!?

Previous Chapter link- Chapter 3

Chapter: 4

Stirring a spoon in the bowl of stew....Mikasa glances at Eli from the corner of her eyes....from the kitchen.

Eli was being quite than his usual self....like he has that sadness and guilty expression on his face since he woke up from that bad dream of his...

It was night by now....Mikasa is making their dinner while Eli was just sitting in the dining space....staring at the book infront of him...

But Mikasa could clearly see through him....Eli was just lost in somewhere else but had no concentration in the book...

He was just 5 but he was a school going boy too....though he was in nurseries they did have some sort of studies and exams! Eli had a brilliant mind most probably it was because he was half Ackraman too....he is sharp and intelligent even the school authorities knew that....but due to the rumours of him being the child of the last holder of founding titan who almost crushed the whole world ....Eli is treated very differently! Mikasa knew that well but she doesnt care about the people around her....for her , Eli getting adequate knowledge from school matters the most.

Eli came out of his trance as soon as he heard Mikasa calling out his name....

Mikasa placing a bowl of soup infront him- Eli....You seem lost!

Eli stares at his mother shocked but then composes himself- Huh...What?

Mikasa raises her eye brows as she sat opposite him – Hmmm....you seem to be thinking about something else! Cause I dont see you studying for real!

Eli was confused about what to answer....it was true he wasnt actually studying....he was thinking about his dream and that stranger....but he cant let his mom know that!

Eli confidently as he argues back – Mommm....Can you stop overthinking ? Alright? I was....just feeling sleepy okay!

Eli tries to give a fake yawn and acts sleepy in his childish voice - aahhh....I am hungry! M..moomm...Lets get...done with the dinner!

Eli was about to take the empty small bowl and pour the soup into it when Mikasa holds his hand stopping him and says “ You....are Red! It means you are hiding something form me! What is it?”

Eli feels heat travelling through his round cheeks....he started to feel nervous & embarrass at same time.

He shrugs off her hand as he angrily says- Heyyyy Whats The Problem! Seriously? Why do you always suspect me of hiding something!

Mikasa rolls her eyes as she takes her seat- Always? Nope....you rarely hide something from me! Isnt it? Cause you are really bad at hiding anyways...so whatever it is you can tell me...I am your Mom after all!

Eli frowns at Mikasa and was just about to say something but she interrupts “ You can take your time....I am not forcing you Okay! “

Eli stares at his mom a bit stunned while Mikasa continues softly- You think I am just an annoying over protective stupid mother right? I am sorry about that....I just cant stop caring about you (pauses a bit as she stares directly into those green eyes) You are the only one I have now!

Eli could feel the sadness in his mother voice....he feels bad....as he realises he has somewhat made his mom upset! And he feels bad about it now...his mom is not annoying...yeah she kinda gets into his head at times but he loves her!

Eli with guilt ridden eyes and broken voice- Mom I didnt mean to hurt you by any way...

Mikasa looks at Eli a bit stunned as Eli says “ You know I Love You! Please dont say that you are annoying....”

Mikasa sighs seeing those eyes & the puppy face...

He resembles him so much....thinks Mikasa!

Mikasa smiles lightly- So you want to say something?

Eli lowers his eyes....he wasnt really sure about how his mother will react knowing he didnt go to school today rather ran off a bit far away without her ...he never really get the chance to roam around the city like other kids do. He is always stuck in his home, occasionally Mikasa just take him with her to market place...

Fearing his mother's reaction....Eli thinks maybe this isnt the right time....moreover if he actually tells about meeting with a stranger who kind of matches with the person he sees in his dream....his Mom gonna freak out a big time.

Seeing Eli being silent, Mikasa realised he was hesitating....but rather asking him again Mikasa calmly says “ Its Okay...You can tell me some other time! Let's have our dinner!”

Back of the mind, Mikasa was pretty much sure something was wrong....and she needs to find it out! If Eli doesnt tell her, she will find it out by herself!

***********

Walking across the corridor of school, Eli heads for his class...his head was lowered as his gaze was fixed to the ground.

He was completely in guilt mood for still hiding about bunking the school day before.

So today he swore to himself....he will never do that again...

Today he will concentrate only at his studies and wont care about what people tell him...or joke about him...

Eli enters the classroom as he gazes upwards and finds other kids staring at him awkwardly .... same weird looks at him....

His green eyes rolled in a dull way as he heads towards a seat...

He could hear whispers around but this time Eli decided to be unaffected!

Eli was about to take a seat in the 3rd bench when a boy ran to him and pushed him aside while occupying the seat at the same time...

Eli looked at him with a scowling face while that kid simply showed him tounge sticking out...

Eli decided to ignore him as he walked to the last bench and sat there alone with annoyance on his face....while that boy just smirked at him evilly...

Eli sighed, he just doesn't understand why these people are so problematic towards him...

He just shoves off the whole feeling of being hated at that moment before it could take over his mind....just when the teacher entered the class and everyone stood up to show respect including Eli....

*******

The Class got over as the bell rang...it was break time now...

Eli takes his back pack on his back as he starts walking out silently with a tiffin box in his hand. Just when he suddenly tripped off at door making him fall on the ground with thud as the tiffin box slipped of his hand and fell a bit far as it got opened with the sandwich falling out of it...

Eli was completely shocked by the incident as he just kept on laying flat on his chest staring at the falling sandwich on ground which his mother made for him....while the corridor echoed with laughter all around him...

Eli found someone with huge chubby legs standing infront of him as his green eyes travelled upwards to check who it was....

As soon as his eyes met with the huge chubby faced kid , Eli narrowed his eyes at him as the kid opened its big mouth “ Hellooooo....Titan Baby! Whats up ha? Didnt say Hi yet to me??”

Eli sighed heavily as he finally got off from the ground and stood on his feet....ignoring the huge kid infront of him Eli dusts of the dirt from his shirt as he passes by him with his head high....moves ahead to pick up the sandwich and tiffin box.

Watching Eli ignoring him like this surprises the kid, as he immediately kicks away the tiffin box bit far while picking up the sandwich himself.

Eli stares at him shocked as annoyance took over him immediately.

As he turns his hands into fists, Eli hears the kid telling him- Oi, What so hurry? We need to talk....

The huge kid shows the sandwich infront of Eli's face as he speaks sarcastically- Ooowwo Titan Baaby....Are You Hungry ? Want Some?

Eli glares at the kid furiously as he looks upwards at him, while his hands rolled into fists “ Put that sandwich back into my lunch box! “

The kid smirks evilly as he says “ Ah....Ordering me? You stupid little brat! You know what...this sandwich looks yummy and guess what! I want it for myself, you have any problem?”

Eli was completely fuming within himself as he tightens his fists trying to control his rage...while he says in his mind “ Calm down! I should just ignore him....and not react at all! Mom told me these jokers are not worth at all of any kind of reaction! Just calm down”

Eli softens his expression as he says with low but prominent voice “ Listen....kid! Stop these nonsense of yours....it only makes you look like a looser! Give my lunch box with that sandwich into it....I need to hurry okay! I dont have any free time to waste on you “

The kid evilly smiles as he immediately takes bite from sandwich and says while munching “ Yummm....This tastes good! So Titan Boy Your Mom Makes Really Good Stuffs...Ask Her To Make Some More For Me”

Eli was angry now but he needs to control it , without saying a word Eli walks toward his tiffin box and was about to pick it up when that kid stomped his foot over it leading a crack on the box....while Eli gasps in shock hearing the sound of crack...as he glared furiously at that huge kid.

The Kid in disgust “ You....Son Of Monster! ( eating rest of the sandwich) I dont think you need this box anymore as your food is finished and is in my stomach...all you need right now is run off your ass”

Eli green eyes shone brightly as he glared at the kid with rage....Eli's small hands were back to fist but he was trying hard to control his anger...

As the kid went on “ Honestly Why do you even come here? What fun do you get by being insulted everyday ha? Oh wait you actually deserve to get insulted! Thats your birth right “

Hearing this the other kids who were watching this drama for quite some time bursts out laughing....

Eli was damn done with this kid as he clenched his teeth and spoke with sharp dangerous voice “ Shut The Filthy Mouth Of Yours “

The huge kid stopped laughing as he stared at Eli shocked “ O wow! You have guts to talk too...do you even know....”

Eli screams loudly as he interrupts the boy “ SHUT UP DAMN IT “

The kid was shocked now to hear the intensity of Eli's voice....he kept on staring at Eli's rage filled eyes while rest looked at them completely horrified.

Eli while gritting his teeth “ Move your foot away from the box and hand over it to me.... & get lost from my sight! “

The kid was shocked for few moments and then suddenly he started laughing as he says “ Hahaha...What a fire! I mean seriously....no wonder my mom and dad keep on saying that you will be same just like your father when you grow up! A Titan....! “

Before the kid could say anything further....he felt a crushing punch on his chin which felt so hard on him that just made him fall on the ground.

Everyone around them was terrified as they watched Eli swiftly giving a punch on the chin of that chubby kid....

Eli couldn't hold himself back as he barked on the kid who was laying flat on the ground looked at him in shock as blood came out from his teeth “ KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! DONT WANNA HEAR ANOTHER WORD FROM YOU! AND DONT YOU DARE CALL ME A TITAN...I DONT KNOW WHAT IS IT! BUT ALL I KNOW I DONT LIKE THIS WORD AT ALL....UNDERSTOOD”

Saying this Eli kicked hard at one leg of the kid who winced in pain immediately!

Eli picked up his broken Tiffin box and put it in his bag while he could feel all the kids eyes on him in fear....he could simply care less about it...he was about to leave when he felt a punch on his face which made him fall the ground....in return everyone hooted all around in excitement.

Eli looked upward in anger as he found the chubby kid with blood in his mouth staring at him angrily “ Son of a bitch! Dont you have manners while talking to your seniors! How dare you raise your hand on me....I am gonna make you suspend from this school and throw you and your mom out of this town “

Before he could do anything....Eli all of sudden made a move and punched hard straight on the face of the kid....who immediately pushed with such a force and fell hard against a pillar leading him to immediate unconsciousness!

Everyone gasped in horror at the sight....while Eli who still didn't realise the consequences of his act until someone freaked out frighten “ Guys....Why! Why is he not getting up?”

Eli gasped in shock as he came out of his anger and stared at the fallen chubby cheek at far....who was completely motionless at the moment....

Eli was terrified suddenly....while everyone started gawking at him as few kids ran to call the teacher..

Eli walked towards the kid as he said nervously to the people “ He just got hurt badly I guess...nothing much “

He wasnt having any good vibes from this environment around as he spoke infront of the chubby kid who was still not in his senses “ Hey...Wa...Wake Up! Look...this...isnt time to joke! Get....up dude! Others are misunderstanding me! Hey...”

Suddenly Eli heard a kid coming back with someone while saying “ I dont know Sir....I think he is just unconscious or maybe....the way that titan boy punched him....I dont know maybe....he is in more serious condition “

Eli looked around in horror as he heard some saying what if he is dead....

Eli was completely terrified! He needs to go to his mother. As everyone got indulged in whispering Eli took the chance and immediately ran away from that place in opposite direction through the corridor...

*********

It was raining heavily all around....thunders strike in the sky....

A boy with a back pack over his head sitting on the ground behind a huge garbage bin while trying to hide as much as possible from the people around....

A huge thunder strikes as flash of light fell on his face while making him shiver in fear....his green eyes shone in the light of thunder....

Eli was shivering due to cold as well as fear of darkness & people finding him...

Eli in his broken voice “ Mom Save Me”

Suddenly he felt nervous and guilty as he remembered what just happened back in the school....

He didnt intend to hurt anyone so much that will lead to death....period he didnt even want to kill him or something! Was it his fault completely? Did he do wrong by loosing his self control again!

Infact he was pretty sure that bully boy wasnt dead but unconscious but then why wasnt he moving?

Eli started to weep now as he trembled while it started to rain more....

Suddenly Eli found a huge amount of people with torchlight coming in this way....

He gasped loudly and got up from there...

He could hear the voices more close now “ That BASTARD Child! He must be hiding here somewhere! This time we are gonna kill him , cut into pieces and throw him in fire! He is nothing but just like his father....A Murderer! Who knows...what if he also posses titan power!? And then we will kill his mother that bloody Ackraman!"

Eli blinked his eyes in horror “ Mom? No....I wont let them do anything to my mom...I need to get out from here before they catch me”

Eli quickly got up and started to move upwards slowly as the place where he was hiding was bit sloppy....the place was pretty old and much far from his house....most probably no one really lives in this place...Now...

He was hurriedly walking upwards while glancing backwards time to time wondering if they already spot him or not, suddenly he tripped over a pebble and slipped as he winced in pain while falling...

Eli was terrified as he puts hand on his mouth so that no sound comes out...

But he was already late....as he turns around and find those gang of people were now speeding up their pace towards him as one of them falls the light on his face & shouted “ HEY....THATS HIM....”

Eli was scared as he began to shake again in fear, he quickly got up and started running upwards but he couldn't increase his pace as he was slipping up now and then due to heavy raining and his feet fingers were kind of hurting now....

They were quite close to him...Eli was in panic as he was gasping trying to catch breath while running...

Suddenly he got a pull on his arm....before he could react someone pulled him aside swiftly behind the wall of a house...

It was dark inside...

Eli was highly shocked at the sudden action as he couldnt understand what just happened...those people were close, he could hear them...

But he was still in shock that who just pulled him in...he turned his head around and just when the lightening stroke again revealing the face infront of him....

Eli eyes widen as he was about to say something but before that his mouth was forced to shut by a strong hand as Eli started to fidget under the hold in fear while the graspy deep voice wishpers ”SSSSH....CALM DOWN”

Just then both of them could see bunch of silhouettes near by....as the voice says “ Dont say a word....they are hear...”

Eli was completely in shock stage at the moment and was frozen at the spot while his wide green eyes were on the man infront of him...

They could hear those men saying “ Where did he go? “ “ I Saw him I swear...I guess he escaped from here” “ Lets hurry”

They were there for few more minutes...and then left from there hurriedly....

As both of them could hear their foot steps and voice fading away....Eli finally finds the hand away from his mouth as he says in deep manly voice “ Gone! You can breath now....”

Realising he was actually holding his breath for a while now, Eli finally breaths as he starts coughing slightly to get air...

Just then as the reality strikes....Eli widens his eyes and stares at the person infront of him, while he says “ Ah....So We met again? What a coincidence!”

Just then the thunder strikes again and lightening falls on that long hair person....Eli could see the face more clearly....he was none other than that stranger and the person possibly who was in his dreams...

The difference was there were no bandage on his head nor even that cane in his hand like the last time, though his half of the hair was falling on one of his eyes completely...

Eli finally finds his voice as he says in child like voice while trembling a bit “ You....Again?”

Just then the reply comes “ Oh...You can speak....back then I thought you were mute or something “

P.S So How Was This Chapter? Hope you guys enjoyed. Do comment , like & share.

[strayficks]

EPHEMERAL 1 • JAEHYUN

2 . 3

Based on my dream, enjoy 💅🏻

Genre: smutty smut smut.

Pairings: bad boy!Jung Jaehyun × fem reader.

You walked towards him, the smell of the smoke getting stonger and stronger every step you take as you stopped beside his figure. Twiddling your cigar in your fingers, you asked him. Jung jaehyun is his name.

"Can i join?"

He looked at you, eyes dark like the night as you sat on table of the bench. Not waiting for a reply because you know damn well you would stay even he said no. You were curious. Curious about him.

He hummed, not paying any attention as he took a drag of his own cigarette. The smoke escaped his mouth as he breathed out, his ears and lips are red from the cold. You've heard a lot about him. The way your friends talk about him just adds to your curiosity even more.

You were supposed to be at home, it's like a routine that every night you sneak out just to avoid the chaos at home. It was nice being alone, but you were stupid if you didnt come up to Jung Jaehyun on your favorite spot.

"You're Jaehyun right?" You asked him, you knew his name already though. crossing your legs as your pleated skirt rides up to your thighs. You took out your lighter and light the end, taking a long drag while waiting for an answer. You need a distraction. You had a bad girl image and people think that you were bad to the bone. That's not entirely false though.

You still go to church and all, but there was that time when you fucked a guy named Mark. He was the sweetest boy you've ever laid eyes on. So pure and innocent. You jacked him off after church, you wouldnt be surprised if he took extra hours of bible study after you did it. And there was Jeno. He was a sweetheart. But he wanted a relationship and that made you freak out. At least you know that you give good head, right?

"Yeah. Who are you?" He answered, raising a brow at your direction as his gaze lowers to your bare legs. You chewed your bottom lip to contain a smirk. Damn, he was attractive. No wonder your friends had been talking about him nonstop. You heard about him being a bad boy, or him being in a gang and some made up rumor a bunch of girls made. But none of them told you that he was this handsome. Maybe they know better than have their target caught by you. Too late now.

"You dont know me? That's a shame." You cocked your head. Not having any plans to tell him your name. If he knows, he'll know your rep. It's not like you were ashamed, you couldnt care less about what people think of you. But you just need a release right now, hence, why you were wearing a skirt. Why you ask? Easy access.

"What do you want? And why the hell is a beautiful girl doing alone in here?" He turned to you. The moonlight illuminating his figure as he looked at you straight in the eyes. A smile etched on his lips as he took a drag of his cigarrette, flicking it to the ground and stomping it with his shoes.

"I have the same question, why are you here?" He sat next to you, the table creaking at his weight. You caught a whiff of his scent. He smelled so nice, like mint and cigar.

"All my friends are stoned. I'm not dealing with them right now." He chuckled, his deep voice filled the air as a smile ghosted his lips, his dimples prominent as he showed his charming pearly whites. Just like that he took your breath away, it's not the first time though, and feelings arent your forte anyway.

"You go to that College right? I heard a lot about you." You said simply. Letting him take the lead on the conversation as you blow out smoke, shaping your pierced tounge and forming your lips to make shapes.

"What kinds of things that you've been hearing?" He asked, even though his tone doesnt sound curious at all. You took a long final drag as you put out the bright red bud.

"Oh you know, They said that you like sleeping around, and that you have a big dick." Your voice got quieter as you reached the last few words, lacing it with as much seduction you can muster as the smoke reached his face. Of course you leaned closer, and he did too. Just like you wanted it. You had always like the control. The thrill and the excitement when youre being the person people think you are. Like a persona. You liked it, you know it's wrong, but you keep doing it. Solely for your own advantage. Pleasure mostly.

"How about we find out?"

In a swift, he had you between his arms. You uncrossed your legs as he peered into you, a satisfied smirk on his face. He looked at you like he knows something you dont. He looked at you like he knows everything that's going on inside your head. To be honest, you were intimidated. It's unlike you, but you were too turned on to give a shit. Not when the guy is Jung Jaehyun.

He looked at you for a long moment before he cursed again and ran a hand through his hair. You wanted to do that, too.

But instead, you got out of his grasp, dropping to your knees in and reached for his belt buckle. You undid it before he could protest and then reached for his semi-erect cock through his boxers. He was big, thank his parents. Hell, thank his grandma. It had been months since you had gotten some big dick.

"Wanna see me swallow your cock, Jae? All of it?"

His cock behind his boxers swelled in your hand. The muscles by his lower abdomen tightened. His eyes zoned in on you as you leaned. in to his bulge and pressed an open mouthed kiss to it, feeling him pulse against your lips.

"Fuck yes, and i dont even know your name yet."

"They better live up to their words." You muttered to yourself as you reached for his waistband and began tugging it down, releasing his dick.

Sweet fuck, now that's what you could actually call a glorious dick. Standing erect and thickly throbbing in the air from a trimmed patch of dark pubic hair, it was a vision to behold actually, it was a vision to beswallow.

Looking up and locking your eyes with him, you watched as Jaehyun watched you wrap one hand around his cock before slowly bringing him to your mouth. You opened up wide for him and actually heard your jaw click as you opened it far enough to fit him.

And then you took him in.

The hiss from Jaehyun's lips was the sexiest thing on this planet. As your mouth wrapped around his pulsating cock and began sucking on it, his hand came flying to your hair and instantly knotted itself in it. Hot breaths and low curses spilled from his lips. You swallow as much of his finely veined cock as you possibly could - and then some.

"Fuck, you're so good." He grunted harshly when your other hand cupped his heavy sac and fondled it. His grip on your hair tightened and almost gave you a headache if your body hadn't been flooding with freak juices and adrenaline.

Was it possible to be this turned on by a stranger? Maybe it was just a dick-crush.

As in, this dick was quite possibly becoming your favorite dick you've ever deep-throated, and you hadn't even finished him off yet completely.

You Wonder what it would feel like inside of you...

Almost as if reading your mind, Jaehyun pulled you off his cock with a harsh curse before he gripped your arm and yanked you up against the table, turned you around and pushed you against the table. You braced yourself against the cold wood and then sucked in a gasp when you felt his hands come to your skirt, yanking it up. A shiver went through as he then grasped your thong and yanked it down, instantly seeking out your wet folds and pressing down on your clit.

Like electrocuted, You jolted and bit your lip to suppress a loud moan when he began rubbing it aggressively, bringing you headfirst towards an orgasm.

The very next second, you felt him slip a single digit inside you. God, you were so fucking ready. You shamelessly ground against his finger in and out of you. His lips found the ball of your shoulder and began kissing it, his tongue feeling scorching against your skin. You were dripping wet, so close to coming, you could taste it.

"Now, Jaehyun," you begged him breathlessly when you felt yourself begin to spasm, closing around his fingers. "Now."

As if you shared a telepathic connection, he understood what you were trying to say with your vocabulary that had been reduced to only one-syllabled words, it seemed.

His fingers slipped out of you, and as you expected (or more likely had hoped), he packed a condom in his pocket, and at the sound of the foil tearing, you swore you almost did too. A few short seconds passed, but then you felt him; his blunt tip now coated in latex pressing against your wet folds, gliding against you with one target, and one target only.

"Oh, fuck." When he entered you, you swore you heard angels sing somewhere and you could barely stand as he continued sliding into you, his thick and long length finding solace inside your warm pussy.

Once he finally settled, you had never felt so full in your entire life - you even felt pain as he stretched you. A harsh moan then crippled your throat as he reared back and thrust inside you again, his cock slamming into You. You arched against him and threw yourhead back, felt his hand slam on top of yours as he continued to thrust into you, his breath right by your ear.

"Fuck, baby.. fuck." His breath was labored like yours, but yours completely vanished when he struck a spot inside you that made your vision dot black.

"Fuck, Right there!" With a short scream, you clenched around him, feeling him fuck you hard through it. His balls slapped against you and the slippery sound his cock made every time your pussy swallowed him, it was euphoric.

You moaned and reached your hand over your shoulder, finding his head and tangling your fingers in the thickness of his hair. His lips latched onto my throat and left you a mark to remember him by, once our little adventure was over and your body had been sated.

You could feel yourself reaching another Orgasm, could feel him also swelling inside you, chasing his own release. One of his hands came around your waist and kept you firmly standing. Every nerve inside you got fried as his cock ravaged you and had you biting your tongue not to scream again.

People are going to hear you, but like you actually gave a fuck.

With a roar that surprised even you, Jaehyun exploded and came generously inside you. You felt the muted spurts of his cum through the condom and that pushed you over, had you shrieking and shaking as you came apart all over him. You both rode through but then exhaled hard, Jaehyun resting his forehead in the crook of your neck.

Finally, after what had to be minutes, Jaehyun pulled his semi-hard cock out of me and took a step back, allowed you to turn around and lean against the table. Your eyes met and you both couldn't help but draw on our lips.

Jaehyun chuckled and shook his head at you as he began removing his condom, tying it before throwing it into the garbage can near you. Sorry to whoever will find that. He then buckled up while you still stood and collected yourself, lightly trembling.

Damn. You felt like you had become paraplegic at least.

"So.. did you cum?" Jaehyun chuckled when your voice died.

You lied trough your teeth as you mustered up the courage to compose yourself. Smoothing down your skirt as you looked at him straight in his brown orbs, a coy smile on your lips.

"No."

[louistomlinsonyear]

shawn self title album x niall

months ago i shared with my friends why i thought some of the songs in shawns self title album, from 2018, were to/about niall. obviously, nothing alarming, but heres some lyrics that made me go ??? whats going on boy???  things to notice: 1. most of his album is gender neutral (i counted 4 songs, one in which he says someone he wants is off with someone he cant be, so he might as well just find himself a new girl, and queen in which he doesnt use a noun except for "queen") 2. most of the songs talk about a relationship based on different places/one constantly going off (not necessarily him, by the way) 3. whatever happened, was only meant to be a one night only thing, which he then craved more 4. him changing as a person, finding some new - not just a new love, a new shawn

In My Blood: I'm overwhelmed and insecure, give me something I could take to ease my mind slowly Just have a drink and you'll feel better Just take her home and you'll feel better (with hailee recently announcing her new single, wrong direction, we kinda know who he's talking about here) Afraid to be alone again, I hate this No medicine is strong enough (this gives me alive vibes) Fallin All in You: 'Cause this was only ever meant to be for one night Still, we're changing our minds here Be yours, be my dear I can't see one thing wrong Between the both of us You know I've been alone for quite a while haven't I? I thought I knew it all, found love but I was wrong More times than enough But since you came along I'm thinking baby You are bringing out a different kind of me There's no safety net that's underneath, I'm free Where were you in the morning?  You said, "I wanna get to know ya" Why you gotta get my hopes up? You said that you were staying over But then I woke up to the cold air (someone had to jet off to work? maybe?)  Nervous: I saw you on a Sunday in a café And all you did was look my way And my heart started to race And my hands started to shake, yeah I heard you asked about me through a friend (i mean do i even have to??)  My adrenaline kicked in 'Cause I've been askin' 'bout you too And now we're out here in this room You got me acting like I've never done this before (shawns "DMing super flirtsy")  I promise I'll be ready when I walk through the door Like To Be You: I'm so sorry (an argument??)  Though we're still stuck in the middle Tell me what's inside of your head I don't know what it's like to be you I don't know what it's like but I'm dying to If I could put myself in your shoes No matter what you say I won't love you less And I'd be lying if I said that I do Lost In Japan: (our well known japan, where everyone jets off to) I could feel the tension (???? what tension my guy) We could cut it with a knife I know it's more than just a friendship I can hear you thinking 'bout it, yeah Do I gotta convince you? That you shouldn't fall asleep? It'll only be a couple hours And I'm about to leave Particular Taste: (shes about nialls witty sarcasm personality)  Never pickin' up her phone 'less it rings twice (i doubt niall EVER picks up on the first ring. even more so if golf's on) Only answers with a question, mhh And if I try to play it cool, it never goes right Got me drownin', drownin', uh Because I Had You: (boy...) I think it's time that I be honest Should've told you not to go Thought I knew just what I wanted I didn't know myself at all You're with somebody I can't be, yeah (????????? my guy??????????) But I can tell that you're happy Hey, remember when I told you That you and I, we'd go down in history together, yeah It's time for me to finally meet somebody new Take her to all the places that I took us to And she might help me forget, but loving her is something I could never do Why: (haters to lovers on ao3) When people ask about us, now, we just brush it off I don't know why we act like it means nothing at all I wish that I could tell you that you're all that I want, yeah When I hear you sing, it gets hard to breathe Can't help but think every song's about me And every line, every word that I write You are the muse in the back of my mind, oh (neutral) Youth: (i feel like a rebellion song) You hit me with words I never heard Come out your mouth To be honest I don't want it, no You can't take my youth away This soul of mine will never break As long as I wake up today You can't take my youth away Queen: (homeboy just came for mrs hailees neck) It's hard to believe you don't remember me at all Am I hard to recognize? You say, "nice to meet you" every time Guess I shouldn't be surprised You say, "nice to meet you" every time I know we got a lot of mutual friends Don't say my name, don't come up in your conversations You treat me like I got nothing on you I don't understand why everybody thinks you're sweet 'Cause I see the opposite No, you're not so innocent Perfectly Wrong: Me and you, we were made to break (yeah? why?) I know that's true, but it's much too late You're perfectly wrong for me And that's why it's so hard to leave Mutual: I need to know If this is mutual Before I go And get way too involved I want you bad Can you reciprocate? No, I don't want to have to leave But half of you is not enough for me (homeguy why half?) When You're Ready: What if my dad is right When he says that you're the one No, I can't even argue I won't even fight him on it Call you when it's late And I know that you're in bed 'Cause I'm three hours back  Seems like you're always six ahead (listen, the timezone difference from toronto do london/dublin is 5 hours, take of that what you will) obviously i got nothing more than shawns sappy-in-love eyes to back up any of this ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

[ahgaseda]

the NSFW alphabet | Jackson (Got7)

{ this post contains graphic descriptions and explicit content : please read at your own risk! }

A = aroused (how he acts when he's in the mood)

he will be the biggest flirt you’ve ever seen but also blunt as hell. like hey baby you wanna come take a ride on this thick dick. he will get real frisky when he is in the mood. hands roaming everywhere. kissing on your neck and nipping beneath your ear. he can finesse when he needs to and get you all riled up. but he aint above begging either. he will forsake all pride and dignity for a nut and you can have as much fun as you want with that.

B = body (favorite body part of their partner)

he loves your body. he will worship every inch of it and touch you for hours. he loves your boobs. he loves your ass. damn it he loves your thighs and your hips. mine mine mine he says. he always gotta have his hands on you and he just lives to play with your body. even in non sexual ways too he will pat your butt to a beat or jiggle your boobs when you come out of the shower. he just cant help it. youre his goddess and he wants to show his appreciation at all times.

C = climax (what he's like when he orgasms)

he is loud af. and you will know he’s getting closer by the way his voice pitches higher and higher. he is not afraid to let you know in great detail how good he feels. also swears quite a bit. probably mixes up his languages in the heat of the moment. you will become very familiar with swear words in each language he knows lol. he the type that warns you hes about to come even though its oh so painfully obvious.

D = dominance (is he dominant, submissive or a switch)

he is a switch and he is unpredictable. his desires change on a whim. if hes in the mood for you to tie him up and ride him he will tell you. if he wants to shove you against the wall and give you the work he will let you know. power dynamics don’t really concern him in the bedroom unless youre feeling a little frisky and need to be put in your place. he wants to please you above all else.

E = experience (how experienced is he in the bedroom)

he knows what he’s doing. and he is very confident in the bedroom. he knows hes hot and strong and can give you whatever you want. it needs to be said but aries are not opposed to loveless sex. being in love with your partner is a bonus not a requirement. despite that they will be the first to admit the sex is better when a connection is there. it just is.

F = fortitude (does he have a lot of stamina and energy)

one round is boring to him. if you’re both up to it once is not going to be enough. he likes to mix things up and keep the fire going until hes exhausted and blown off all that steam. he will eat you out or let you ride his thigh between rounds. the time it takes for him to get hard again is very short and in some cases he can stay hard after getting off but it varies.

G = gratification (what really gets him off)

mark him as yours. be aggressive and possessive. be spontaneous. he needs fire and passion but most of all he craves being needed and desired. hes fairly easy to please in the bedroom because he brings so much of the energy himself. getting to let it out is where he gets the most release. pleasuring you gets him off the best. seeing his partner taking what he has to give and losing themselves to ecstasy that he caused will make him bust in a heartbeat.

H = habitat (preferred place to get busy)

anywhere. anytime. he don’t care. yall regularly joke about having fucked on nearly every surface in the house. he also moves a lot so sex that starts against the wall can lead to the table or what began in the bed can end up on the floor. there is also a lot of bath or shower sex with jackson. plus he welcomes you visiting him in the studio. he loves a good distraction and orgasm combo.

I = intimacy (how emotional is he when it comes to sex)

not really during sex itself but it will come in afterward. he loves to cuddle and talk after sexy time. but there will be days when he slows it down and makes everything a really sensual affair. intimacy will be the focus and everything will be very intense. this doesnt happen too often but he takes great pride in those nights. usually birthdays or anniversaries or holidays.

J = joke (how much does he play around)

there is a time and place for humor and it depends on the mood. most of the time he is good at reading the mood. generally he likes to be playful and have fun during sex. if you cant laugh during sex then whats the point lol since hes such a dramatic flirt he will definitely have you cracking up before during and after sex but especially during foreplay.

K = kink (toys or kinks)

body worship. both giving and receiving. it definitely plays a big role in those really intense sessions. sex is his favorite hobby so you can expect plenty of kinks and toys in bed. keeping in mind he wants to please you so not much is off limits and he will always be down to test out anything you want to try. he also the type to be into pegging and you can expect him to bring it up during playful banter shamelessly.

L = lust (how often does he want it)

he is an Aries so his sex drive is quite high. very hot blooded and the type that gets hard at the drop of a hat. seriously you can just mention handcuffs in passing and his dick will stand up like hello i have been summoned lol

M = masturbation (mutual and solo)

he jacks off regularly no big deal. having such a high sex drive hes just gotta relieve the stress whenever he can. watching you masturbate is a kink of his but only in theory. once you get into it he has to jump in. it turns him on so bad and he doesnt have the patience to be a bystander. hes not into you watching him either. hes gonna want your hands on him asap. phone sex is a lot of fun with him though. he loses his damn mind over it and threatens to hop on the next plane to come home and fuck you.

N = never (what he will not do)

a hard limit for him is pain. he is not going to do anything that causes you considerable pain. sure he will spank you or choke you within moderation but dont expect him to push the limit with anything more hardcore than that. also degradation doesnt do it for him. he will call you a dirty slut or daddys little whore in taunting but hes not going to go farther. its too contradictory to his personality and even if its in roleplay it will still leave a bad taste in his mouth.

O = oral (giving and receiving)

the pussy eating champion lol. seriously he eats you out all the time and loves every moment of it. if you aint screaming like a demon is coming out of you then he aint happy. he also the type to suck you dry and totally not expect anything in return but he tends to do it before sexy time cause he loves you to be wet and sensitive when he fucks you. now when it comes to blow jobs he is the happiest boy alive. getting head is his weak spot. you can have him singing your name and shaking like a leaf. will not shut up about how well you blow him.

P = position (favorite position)

he loves them all. he the type to change positions rapidly during the same round. he cant stay still. he wants to hit it from every angle. but his favorite could be the Lotus. youre both sitting up face to face and youre straddling his lap which means not only can you ride him into the sunset but he can also move to meet you. he likes that youre both fucking each other plus the feeling of closeness and constant kissing melts his butter. though hes not opposed to doggy because he can dig in deep he prefers being able to see the way your face scrunches up in pleasure.

Q = quickie (what is a quickie like with him)

quickies are fun. he likes quickies. they happen very often. he loves the spontaneous and rushed nature of them. but he will also want more when hes done. once hes in the mood he has a lot of sexual energy to burn through. quickies are more a fast fix for a reservoir thats always overflowing. but the best part about a quickie with jackson is beast mode. when that kicks in just hold on tight and enjoy the ride.

R = roleplay (favorite routines and tropes)

fear not damsel he is coming to the rescue. he can start off strong with tropes but in the heat of the moment hes gonna forget all about it. at a certain point he runs out of patience and concentration and all he can think about is getting that nut. with that being said he likes a challenge. if you make him work for it he will be eating out of the palm of your hand. he also likes anything primal and animalistic. that fucks him up real good.

S = seduction (how he gets you in the mood)

he is playful. but his hands are expert. his kisses are sweet but intense. he starts targeting all of your weak spots and does not hold back. hes a professional smooth and dirty talker. the shit he says will have your mouth watering. he likes if you dont give in too easily and he can lay it on real thick. but then there are times when he will just point blank tell you hes hard and asks if you would like to help him with it.

T = teasing (what is the best way to arouse him)

if you wanna get him in the mood then tell him. tell that boy you wanna ride the soul out of him and hes all yours. he needs to be needed. he also very visual so wear something provocative. get handsy. touch him and get his attention. if it were up to him yall would never ever leave the bedroom. very rarely will he turn you down for some loving. he would have to be exhausted or ill to not want a romp with you.

U = underwear (lingerie and costumes)

oh yes lingerie will get him in the mood but beyond that its just gonna get ripped off anyway. the birthday suit is his favorite outfit. he does particularly enjoy costumes though. he will actively send you screenshots of lingerie or costumes that he finds to see if youre down to try them. he mainly prefers you sending him naughty pics of you in these ensembles. he saves them on his phone and looks at them whenever hes away from you on schedules or tours. he would make his fave the lockscreen on his phone if fansites wouldnt lose their shit about it.

V = verdict (what do you think of your sex life with him)

sex with him is fun but passionate. its also very frequent. morning sex is like part of the normal routine. despite how often the two of you get down it doesnt get stale or boring. hes always mixing things around or spicing things up that there is no shortage of variety. passion runs so deep in him that it spills into everything he does including his loving. even the quickies are mind blowing. jackson is very open about sex and the conversations you have with him about it are very natural and comfortable.

W = words (how vocal is he and dirty talk)

he is not afraid to be loud but he is ever unpredictable. if hes the one on top his focus is giving it to you good and may not be as noisy. if youre on top he will be as vocal as he needs to be to let you know youre doing a hell of a job on him. will wake all the neighbors when you blow him and will wake all of his ancestors when you overstimulate him. his dirty talk is shameless. will you text you raunchy shit and then go into sweet detail of how you are the precious love of his life in the same freaking breath.

X = x-rated (how does he feel about porn or sextapes)

a very big fan of both. he will watch porn on his own or with you. it doesnt matter. can be inclined to film the two of you in bed and will watch it all the damn time. likes pov cams the most. is the type to totally strap on a go pro and go to town on you as a gift to himself.

Y = yawn (what is he like after sex)

he wants to chat. he wants to know how he was in bed. he needs to know if sex with him made your day a little better. he wants to know what you want for breakfast in the morning. he will ask if the bills are paid. may even ask you to remind him to take his vitamins tomorrow. it takes him a few minutes to simmer down with all that energy. still flirts uncontrollably but mostly wants to make small talk until he finally drifts off while spooning you cause you his goddess. 

Z = zodiac (what his sign says about him in bed)

an Aries loves sex. they have a high sex drive. since they are a fire sign there is never any shortage of heat and passion in the bedroom. having a partner that is not compatible with them in the sack can be a major deal breaker. but despite being a selfish sign aries desperately want to please their partner or else they feel insecure. if you aint enjoying it then they arent either. while they prefer fucking over making love, they can temper this to suit their partner without any fuss but at the end of the day they really just wanna have a good time with you.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // masterlist }