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another-lost-mc · 1 year ago

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Rubies in the Dark LUCIFER x gn!Reader 4.9k Words | NSFW | Medieval Fantasy AU | Dubious Behaviour Content Warnings: Dark Elvish Prince!Lucifer x Alchemist!Reader. Contains descriptions of monsters, magic and blood/gore/violence; minor injury; implied stalking, breaking and entering, invasion of privacy; dream magic, dream sex, mutual masturbation, implied somnophilia. (Also, shameless references to Warcraft lore because it inspired the worldbuilding for this story.) A/N: This is my fic for @bizarrebankai's 1k Follower Collab! 💙

It’s been nearly five years since you left your family’s small farm to create a new life in Hillsbrad Foothills. You didn’t have any weapons' training and you weren’t magically gifted. Some of your childhood friends were, and they were able to move away to pursue new adventures, leaving you behind. Your family expected you to accept your boring country life, but you knew you wanted more. Disappointment and heartbreak finally motivated you to pack your meager belongings and set off on your own adventure.

You might not be a warrior or mage, but your new freedom gave you the opportunity to explore and study your true passion for alchemy. Your small cottage is located in one of the villages near the Alterac Mountains. Most of the villagers are hunters, gatherers, or tradesmen.

You make a comfortable living trading your alchemy creations to the other villagers. The foothills are an abundant source of some of the most useful flowers and herbs for crafting utility potions and healing elixirs. You don’t like to let things go to waste; the discarded plants you can’t use are milled and turned into ink that you supply to the local constable and village leaders.

In exchange for your services, they provide you with clothing and food and other useful goods. Your life is lonely, but it’s comfortable. Time has healed old wounds and very rarely is your mind plagued with doubt and regret; you know you’re better off without your unsupportive family and the weak-willed ex-lover you left behind.

Today was surprisingly busy and you were in your alchemy lab all morning. The weather started to turn and you saw clouds rolling over the hills when you peeked out the window. You glance at your herb reserves hesitantly and wonder if you have enough time to gather some more before the storm comes.

One of the village’s recent hunts ended bloodier than usual–there weren't any deaths, but more hunters were seriously wounded than normal. You were more than eager to provide them with potions to accelerate their recovery, but most of your supplies have run out as a result.

The wildlife in the foothills has become exceedingly aggressive. There aren’t many visitors to these quiet lands. There are rumors circulating the village of suspicious travellers conducting experiments with local animals and plant life along the region’s uninhabited borders. They talk about rabid animals and foliage overrun with disease, but you’ve been fortunate not to come across anything like that yourself.

The foothills aren’t easily accessible and are used mainly as a thoroughfare to other regions. There’s only one main road travelers can use to bypass the mountains: the eastern road leads into the valleys and the sea beyond; or the western road that winds up through Silverpine Forest, a thick and dark place nestled along the mountain range.

You’ve heard stories about Silverpine Forest, too–or the Demon’s Forest, if suspicious townsfolk are to be believed. Some people say that monsters hunt along the road at night. If the legends are true, they capture weary travelers and unsuspecting hunters and drag them to their demise in the dark, never to be seen or heard from again. This land might be home to magical and wondrous things, but even you doubt that the stories are true.

Regardless of what you believe, you try to be cautious when you go out to collect herbs on your own. You attach a long knife to your belt before you slip on your cloak, although it is more useful for trimming leaves and brances than for protection.

You bite your lip and glance nervously at the sky. The clouds overhead threaten rainfall, but you think you have enough time to restock some of your depleted resources. You slip out of your little cottage and follow the stone path to the main road heading west.

Today’s harvest is productive and uneventful. These foothills are an excellent source of Briarthorn and Silverleaf, some of the most potent herbs you use regularly. You’ll be able to provide the local healers with more elixirs with extras to spare.

You don’t normally venture this close to the western border, but you naturally follow the most abundant patches of herbs and it led you there. You haven’t seen anything out of the ordinary, but you’re still eager to return to your cottage before it gets too late.

You set along the path that will lead you home when a strange sound carries on the wind and catches your attention. It doesn’t sound human, but you recognize the whimpers and whines of a creature in pain. You take a hesitant step off the main road, and then another, until you’re walking slowly, carefully, through the grass towards the noise.

The unusual sounds lead you down a deep, sloping hill towards one of the region’s abandoned mines. You shiver from the sudden drop in temperature–something about the air in this area feels unsettling and desolate, and it sets your nerves on edge. The pained noises come from just inside the opening of one of the mining tunnels. You peek around the corner carefully, and you spot some sort of wounded animal.

At a first glance, you think it might be a type of bear, but it’s hard to tell without getting closer. It’s stuck in a tangled mess of thick, white webbing that pins it to the ground. The beast raises its head when your leather boot disturbs some loose stones, and its eyes–or is that two pairs of eyes?–blink at you. The beast is still whimpering in pain, but a low growl echoes around you now, too.

You hold up your hands and show the beast you mean it no harm. It sniffs the air curiously and the growling fades, which you interpret as a sign that it’s safe to approach. You kneel at the beast’s side and examine the webs trapping the poor animal in place. You stroke its furry back soothingly as you slowly cut away the thinner sections of webbing, but the thicker ropes along the beast’s back are too tough for your knife to hack through.

You’re so distracted by your task that a new sound startles you and makes your blood run cold; the beast starts to growl louder and more menacing than before. There’s a hissing noise approaching you from deep within the mine. The flurried sound of skittering limbs echo off the stone walls. Dozens of yellowish eyes seem to float in the darkness further down the tunnel from you and the beast.

It appears that the mines are home to a nest of overgrown spiders. The spiders are nothing like what you’ve seen before: they’re nearly as tall as you are and much wider. They have gnarly limbs and strange, pulsing growths jutting from their backs.

You have no weapons except for your knife, and it’s a poor substitute for a proper sword or axe–not that you could wield either of those successfully, even if you had one. The beast struggles to break free of its bindings next to you, but its limbs are still immobilized by the webs.

You don’t want to run and leave the beast to a bloody fate, but you don’t want to be devoured by the monsters approaching you either. You’re paralyzed by indecision and fear. You remember the stories of suspicious individuals creating abominations from nature in their wake. You didn’t want to believe the rumors were true; you didn’t think this is how you would die.

Something knocks into your back, and you yell in fright as you’re pushed aside. You’re afraid that a monster ambushed you from behind, but instead you see a tall figure wearing leather hunting gear underneath a long, dark cloak.

Whoever it is stops and examines the beast closely, and a male voice speaks to it in a strange language you don’t understand. He pats the beast’s heads–all three of them– before he approaches the swarm of spiders. He doesn’t hesitate to draw a long steel blade, and you stare in horror as he marches towards certain death.

“Hey, wait, don’t–!” you try to warn the stranger. You realize very quickly that your warning was not wanted or needed.

It’s not a battle so much as it is a slaughter. His movements are graceful but quick, and they’re difficult for you to follow. He darts a path through the monsters, his sharp weapon slicing through the air and cutting them down effortlessly. Frenzied, monstrous shrieks and hissing fill the air; the sound of flesh slicing and squelching blood makes you nauseous. The musty mine air grows heavy with the hint of copper. You clench your eyes shut and cover your ears.

Eventually, the sounds of carnage fade into nothingness, and all you can hear now is the wild thumping of your heartbeat. When you open your eyes, the hooded stranger is standing near the beast’s side once more. His sword drips black-red ichor from the slain spiders, and he wipes the blade clean. He cuts through the webbing so the beast can finally stand up properly. It reminds you of an enormous dog as it shakes its dark fur. Its heads each try to lick at the stranger’s face, and you hear a soft huff of amusement; it nearly makes you smile, despite everything you’ve just gone through.

The stranger finally seems to remember your presence and turns to face you. Most of his face is shrouded in darkness with his hood still up, but you know he’s staring at you. His attention feels weighted, almost suffocating. His aura is intense and you’ve seen for yourself he’s capable of ruthless bloodshed, but for some reason, you don’t feel afraid.

His head tilts questioningly. “Why?” his smooth voice asks quietly. “Why did you stop to help him?”

“I wanted to,” you reply honestly. You cringe when you realize how naive it sounds. You could’ve died, and you probably would have died, if not for the traveler’s excellent timing.

You don’t know what to say, and neither does he judging by his icy silence. Something catches your eye when you take a better look at his clothing. There’s a gash on his arm, and the thin material of his tunic is already soaked with blood from the wound. “You’re hurt,” you point out worriedly.

He looks at his arm like he didn’t even notice he was wounded, but he startles when you approach him without hesitation. “What do you think you’re–?” the stranger demands, but he only makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away from you.

You shake your head to silence his complaints and focus on his injury. You normally carry a small assortment of bandages in one of your pouches, pre-soaked with healing elixir, and you unwrap one and press it to his arm. You wrap it around the wound as gently as you can.

“I make these myself,” you explain to him quietly. You move the ripped fabric of his shirt aside, and your fingers brush against his bare skin. You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you pause tying the bandage in place. “Is it too tight?”

Even with his hood up, you can tell he’s shaking his head. “No, no–it’s fine."

When you’re satisfied with your work, you step back and give him some space. The man seems to be focused on his arm now, and the strange tension between you makes you nervous. Before you can think of anything else to say, rumbling thunder booms in the distance outside the mine and you look over your shoulder. The sky is even darker now, and only the barest hints of sunlight peek through the clouds.

You suddenly feel the tingling sensation of magic in the air. You turn around to ask the man if he lives nearby and what his name is, but he and his beast are gone. You scan the tunnel as far as your eye can see, but nothing else remains except for the plagued spider creatures the traveler killed to save you.

More thunder booms, louder and closer than before, and you rush from the mine. You see no sign of the man or his beast, but the storm brews on the horizon. You have no choice but to continue the journey home as quickly as you can and hope that they’re safe now too.

The villagers are on high alert after you inform them of the monstrous spiders you encountered near the western border of the region. You leave out the details of meeting the cloaked stranger and his three-headed beast.

Your thoughts drift to them often in the days that pass since that tense encounter. The traveler must be a gifted magic user if he was able to teleport them both away so easily. You feel the pang of envy when you think of your nonexistent magical skills, but you remind yourself that you’re an accomplished alchemist instead. You’ve honed your talents and found your own purpose in life; you don't need anything else.

Sometimes when you walk to town to buy supplies, or when you tend to the small garden of herbs near your cottage, you feel uneasy. You glance around nervously when the sensation of being watched makes your skin break out in goosebumps. You call out nervously and ask who’s there, but no one answers. The silence feels anticipatory somehow, and you wonder what it means.

The next morning you stumble tiredly from your room after a restless sleep. You think a warm cup of tea will help, but you freeze when you realize there’s a man in your house. His back is facing you while he looks over the alchemy texts and storybooks on your shelf. He turns to you properly when he hears your startled yelp of surprise.

The man looks like no one you’ve ever seen before. Black hair streaked with grey falls over his intense ruby-coloured eyes. He wears a silver circlet adorned with black opals. His black regalia is perfectly tailored and looks expensive. The dark fabric is accented with gold and red threads that almost seem to glitter in the sunlight shining through your window. His cloak is lined with fur, and his black leather boots are shined to a high polish. He clears his throat and tugs on the cuff of his gloves, almost like he’s nervous. Whoever the stranger is, he looks regal and important and painstakingly out of place in your humble cottage.

You should be afraid that a stranger broke into your home and looked through your belongings while you were sleeping in the next room unaware. However, there’s something familiar about him that you can’t place at first. You suddenly think of a three-headed beast and the cloaked stranger that saved you both, his pale, sharp jawline peeking below the shadow of his hood–

You realize the man before you is the swordsman from the mine, and he nods his confirmation when you ask him if he's one and the same. Your gaze lingers on his intense red eyes and the pointed tips of his ears, and he explains that he lives deep in Silverpine Forest with the elves. He tells you that he’s the crown prince of his kind, and he’s here because he owes you a debt of gratitude.

He looks visibly irritated when you tell him repayment of any kind isn’t necessary. Shouldn’t you be repaying him since he saved your life? But there’s a pink flush blooming across his cheeks despite his offended expression, and all he says is that it’s complicated. Apparently, risking your life to save elvish royalty–or his pet–is a big deal.

You rub your arms nervously and ask what he means. You’re expecting him to offer some sort of compensation, like gold or rare goods, and you plan on refusing all of it. What you don’t expect is for him to ask permission to court you. His eyes are serious and they blaze angrily when you burst into laughter at his proclamation.

(He doesn’t tell you that his brothers noticed his increasingly distracted behaviour the days following your fateful encounter. He washed the bandage you gave him and kept it for sentimental reasons he can’t even articulate properly. He can’t look at Cerberus without remembering how close he came to losing his beloved companion, or how brave you were to try to save him yourself. He thinks of how kind you were when you tended to his wounded arm and how gently you touched him–no one's ever touched him like that before.

He thinks about the spies he sent to your cottage to learn more about you, and how he grew too eager and started watching over you himself. He thinks about your reputable alchemy skills and kind nature, and how respected you are in your small village. He thinks about your potential, and how he can offer you so much more, if you’ll give him the chance.)

In the awkward silence that follows, you realize he isn’t joking and he's waiting for your response. You don’t mean to offend him, and you apologize profusely, but he can’t seriously expect you to accept such a proposal so easily, right?

But you think about your quiet isolation with only fleeting acquaintances among the townspeople to keep you company. You think about the world beyond the foothills that you pretend doesn’t exist. You’re not sure how you’ve ended up in another isolated prison of your own making.

Were you craving a sense of adventure when you let a strange beast’s cries lead you astray from the safest path home? What could someone like an elvish prince offer someone like you?

The world, a treasonous voice whispers in your mind. Judging by the mischievous gleam in his eye, you’re not sure whether that voice was yours or his.

You explain to him as gently as you can that you can’t accept such a bold offer of courtship, but you would be happy to accept an offer of friendship instead.

He readily agrees with your counter-proposal, and you wonder what you’re missing that makes him look so pleased; he looked ready to attack you for wounding his pride only moments ago. He refuses your offer to stay longer and visit, but he assures you that you’ll see him again soon. You stop him before he leaves when you realize you don’t even know his name.

My name is Lucifer, he tells you warmly. There’s an unreadable smile teasing his lips, and he offers you a murmured farewell before he disappears in a ripple of magic.

You ignore the curious voice inside your mind that wonders how long he'll make you wait before he visits again.

It’s been nearly a week since Lucifer visited your cottage and turned your world upside down. You haven’t seen him since, but you’ve made a mental note to ask him what friendship means to elvishkind. It almost seems like he completely ignored your rejection of his offer to court you.

Each morning when you wake, you find some sort of gift in your sitting room: a vase of rare wildflowers, silver jewelry fashioned similarly to the circlet he wore, a new cloak lined with soft fur that looks suspiciously like his own.

You pick up today’s gift–a heavy, leatherbound book about plants and herbs with blank pages at the end for keeping notes. You recognize some of the drawings on the pages: those plants don’t grow in the foothills, but you know they grow in abundance within Silverpine Forest where Lucifer lives, that cheeky devil.

These tokens feel too intimate for the early stages of blooming friendship, but you suspect he knows that. Is he so arrogant that he thinks your affections can be won so easily despite your initial protests?

(Or does he know that despite your protests, you enjoy all his thoughtful gifts? He’s so considerate of your interests and passions. It’s difficult not to be flattered that someone as interesting and handsome as him would be determined to impress someone like you.)

Your cottage starts to feel different as it fills with gifts the elvish prince brings you while you sleep. It’s almost like he leaves hints of his unique magic on purpose for you to find. You catch whiffs of the smoky-sweet fragrance he wears as you walk through the halls, and you can't help but think of him when you do.

Sometimes you still feel like you’re being watched, but the sensation feels friendlier somehow, rather than invasive and alarming. When you look out your window in the evenings and stare into the thicket behind your cottage, you can almost imagine the flash of blood-red eyes staring back at you.

You’ve been using the book Lucifer gave you as a type of journal. It’s become an intimate confession of your wonder and your fears and doubts. You write about regret and hope and opportunities for new beginnings. You think about friendship and the potential for more, and you wonder how it might feel to wake up in a bed warmed by someone that loves you. You haven’t wanted these sorts of things in a very long time. You’re not sure whether to thank or curse the elvish prince for filling your head with such desperately beautiful ideas.

The next morning, you wake up and find another gift: a glass jar filled with fragrant tea leaves. The unique blend smells earthy and herbal and slightly sweet. You hold the jar to your chest and glance at your journal on the writing desk. It’s open to the last page you wrote on, but you know you closed it before you went to bed last night. Realization dawns on you: Lucifer wanted you to know that he read it, and now he knows all your conflicted thoughts about him.

You boil water and make a cup of tea with the leaves he gave you. You step outside into the early morning sunlight and sip your drink thoughtfully. The familiar feeling of eyes on you returns, and you wonder why it doesn’t bother you nearly as much as it used to.

You dream of Lucifer for the first time that night. It feels like your consciousness is floating amongst soft clouds. You feel weightless and protected and cared for. You can’t see him–not at first, anyway–but you know he’s there with you. His familiar scent is so strong you can almost taste it, and you recognize the deep, teasing timber of his voice when his quiet chuckle echoes all around you. You know it’s not real, but it feels like strong arms cradle you in a warm embrace and it feels so wonderful.

Wakefulness disturbs the tranquility of the dream, and you see one last flicker of red eyes before you sit up in your bed, wide-awake and breathless. You rub your eyes and squint as the morning sunshine filters in the gap of your curtain and bathes your room in light. Something catches your attention from the corner of your eye, and you realize he left his next gift in your room this time: a deep-red rose fully in bloom and tied with a black ribbon, placed next to your pillow while you dreamt of him.

Whatever is happening between you and Lucifer continues to grow more intense as days pass. Every night when you sleep, he visits you in your dreams like he knows your resistance to him is crumbling. His dream-self doesn’t really speak to you, except for deep sighs that sound like your name when he holds you against his chest. Sometimes his fingers trail lightly up and down your arm, and you can feel his warm, damp breath fan against your nape as his nose brushes against your neck.

His presence fades away when you wake up with the morning sun, and your new gift from him waits somewhere nearby. The traces of his magic seem to linger and grow stronger each time he visits you in your room. It almost feels possessive, like he’s leaving his mark on you so you can’t possibly forget him. It’s a constant reminder of who he is and what he wants from you.

His gifts become more intimate over time, too–a box filled with rare candied nuts and creamy chocolates, a bottle of rare fruit wine, a delicately woven blanket for your bed. Today’s gift is the most extravagant yet: a black silk robe with gold and red embroidery. It’s similar in style to the royal regalia he wore when he came to your home for the first time. The underlying significance of that doesn’t escape your notice.

You set the robe aside while you dress in your normal attire and carry on with your work for the day. Time passes in a blur as you grind herbs to make potions, and you mill the discarded parts into pigment for ink. When you head to the village to deliver the finished goods, you feel his intense gaze on you from somewhere nearby; he must realize by now that the bashful smile you try to smother is meant for him.

A strange feeling of anticipation has been building inside you all day. You get ready for bed that evening and take off your clothes. It’s almost like you can’t stop yourself when you slip on the robe he gave you in place of your usual sleepwear. The significance of wearing this to bed, and only this, doesn’t escape you either.

You don’t normally think about your appearance or attractiveness, but wearing something that he made specially for you feels like a type of seduction. The robe feels so soft and sensual against your naked skin, and you realize this is what it feels like to be desirable. The robe is loose across your chest and near the gap between your legs when you lay down. The thin fabric leaves tantalizing strips of bare skin exposed in the cool night air.

When you fall asleep, you realize immediately that tonight’s dream is different. You’re laying flat on something soft, and someone’s body cages you beneath theirs. You recognize the red glint of his eyes as the shadows fade away from his face. He braces himself on one arm while the other tugs at the fastening keeping your robe closed.

Mine, he whispers. His hand pauses, waiting for permission.

Yours, you whisper back.

Once he has your consent, the restraint he’s been clinging to finally gives way to his primal instincts. He leans forward and kisses you as your robe falls open completely and you’re finally bare to him. His hands and mouth claim every inch of your body for himself. He’s gentle and slow as he explores you. The crimson eyes you once feared are molten with greedy affection for you and you alone. He makes a trail of open-mouthed kisses and small, suckled bruises across your skin.

When he's reached the edge of his control, he surges back up your body and captures your lips in another heated kiss. He slides his hand between your legs and teases the edge of your arousal. He nips gently at your skin when you bare your throat to him, and he smiles wickedly at the first soft sigh that escapes you.

He groans when you explore his chest and glide along his tapered waist until you find the hardening length grinding against your hip. His cock is hard and heavy in your hand, and he growls deep in his chest as you begin to stroke him. His fingers are relentless and you move together, stroking each other in a hot, desperate haze that threatens to consume you both.

He whispers sweet praise into your ear when you fall apart beneath him, and he gasps and moans your name when he comes too. Your hands are both stained as his release mixes with your own. The inside of your thighs are wet and sticky, and your chest heaves while you catch your breath.

He maneuvers you so he’s laying behind you. He wraps an arm possessively around your waist. It may only be a dream, but you swear you’ve never felt so good. You feel relaxed and content and your eyes slip closed.

Stay, you whisper into the strange, ethereal silence of the dreamscape. He grows still behind you for a moment, but he brushes a kiss against your bare shoulder and you know what his answer is.

Something suddenly jolts you into wakefulness. It’s still early in the morning and the sun hasn’t risen yet. You feel so warm, but you realize it’s because of a heavy weight against your back. A strong, muscular arm is draped over your waist and nimble fingers trace abstract shapes on your belly. The familiar tingle of magic and the scent of honeyed smoke surrounds you. The evidence of his desire for you still clings to your thighs, sticky and not quite dry.

“Mine?” his sleep-roughened voice rumbles behind you as he tightens his hold on your waist.

You relax deeper into his arms and smile when he nuzzles against you. “Yours.”

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v44v13nna · 4 months ago

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casual intimacy

angela girratana x fem reader

short comfort fic ig

been thinking about how much angela’s doing rn, i really hope she’s taking care of herself <3

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between the early starts, full days and late finishes, angela’s beyond tired. with her schedule full of smosh videos and livestreams, aoaoaoa recordings and with the opening week of starkids latest production Cinderellas Castle arriving, angela’s been running on empty for the past few weeks. she knows this, she feels it with the tension building on her shoulders and the persistent need to curl into bed for days. she feels herself emotionally stretched thin, exhausted after just smiling or talking.

this isn’t anything new for angela. after all, all the years she’s had from experiencing the euphoric adrenaline rush from performing is second nature, and unfortunately also along with the crashing low from it ending, often causing her to lose her voice and get sick, and yea often mildly depressed. but on this large of a scale? it’s harder than usual.

stop overthinking this, just be happy ang. angela thought, unlocking her front door. as she enters her apartment she feels herself start to fall apart at the scene in front of her.

the apartment is softly lit, spork curled up asleep on the couch as an episode ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’ plays on the tv. dropping her bags on the floor, and as angela walks towards the kitchen; the main source of light and life, the last of her resolve breaks. standing in front of the stove is her girlfriend (name), cooking dinner and still unaware of her presence. tearfully angela wraps her arms around (name), mumbling a soft “hey” into her back.

“hey yourself” she says, turning herself around to face angela, matching her embrace, weaving her fingers through angela’s hair “is everything okay? you want to talk about it?”.

now resting her head on her girlfriends collarbone, angela feels herself begin to spiral. guilt swirling in her stomach in fear of being a burden, for being too much. she knows she shouldn’t be thinking like this, (name) has always provided her with the open communication and support she’s always dreamed of, but the weight of her emotions is completely overwhelming. tightening her grasp on (names) waist and sighing heavily, angela mumbles “i dunno..”, a beat. “i’m just… so tired”. it’s not even of an explanation, she knows that, but she knows that her girlfriend knows her.

softly, (name) pulls away, quickly turning the heat down to low and stirring it for a final time before grabbing angela by the hand, leading her to the bathroom with a soft “come on”.

“what about dinner?” angela replies, guilt still clouding her brain. i’m being a burden again.

“it’s okay, it’s just pasta sauce, a little simmering isn’t going to hurt it my love” (name) smiles as they reach the bathroom, angela can feel her heart burn with adoration as she recognises what’s happening. a few months back when her girlfriend got really sick and was struggling, angela offered to wash her hair for her, since then, this act of service became something more. to them it meant “i love you. i care for you. im always going to be here”.

angela smiles, a wobbly and teary one as she leans forward as softly kisses her girlfriends lips, unable to verbally express the gratitude and love she feels.

“come on” (name) repeats, just as soft and patient as prior. both undressing and stepping into the warm shower, (name) rests her forehead against angela’s and mumbles a light “it’s okay”. lifting her hands to her girlfriends face, angela lets out a shaky sigh before lovingly kissing (name), indulging in the desire of abandoning everything for this moment. for the feeling of the warm water on her skin and the sensation of devotion filling her blood. for the unbridled kindness that fills her lovers soul, kindness that angela is grateful to experience every day.

breaking the kiss (name) gestures for angela to turn, running her fingers through angela’s wet curls. humming softly as she washes her hair, never breaking the silent air.

i love her. angela thinks repeatedly unable to find the energy within herself to be verbal, now sitting on the couch with the same repetitive thought, with (name) finishing the last of dinner in the kitchen. eventually (name) joins angela on the couch with the pasta, both sit curled up next to spork, in the sparsely lit room with the main light being the glow from the tv, still playing ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer’.

turning to her partner and grasping her hand, angela sighs out “thank you, i love you” still unable to articulate her level of adoration and gratitude.

“i know, i love you too”

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a/n sorry idk what this is i did not edit this enough soz if there’s mistakes or weird sentences

#angela giarratana #angela giarratana x reader #i have the biggest crush on angela #smosh #x reader

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nenelonomh · 5 months ago

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organization 101

organization is about how we gather stimuli in our environment to complete tasks quickly and more effectively. it's about arranging our surroundings, providing order, and structuring items and activities around us.

this topic can be applied in so many instances - including physical spaces, digital files, schedules, and mental clarity.

staying organized offers several benefits:

★ when you're organized, you waste less time searching for things or figuring out what to do next. this efficiency leads to increased productivity

★ clutter and chaos can contribute to stress. an organized environment promotes a sense of calm and control.

★ organization helps you allocate time effectively. you can prioritize tasks and allocate resources efficiently.

★ a clutter-free workspace (or living space) allows you to concentrate better on the task at hand.

★ organized spaces encourage healthier habits, such as regular exercise, balanced meals, and adequate rest.

but how can you stay organized?

★ start with one area of focus (e.g. closet, desk, documents, ...) and gradually expand. focusing on one area allows you to see tangible progress, and as you declutter or organize, you'll build momentum to tackle other spaces.

trying to organize everything at once can be overwhelming. by narrowing your focus, you can prevent feeling swamped. concentrating on a specific area also allows you to learn effective strategies,, which you can apply to other parts of your life!

★ keep a to-do list. you can use a planner or digital tools to track tasks - and prioritize and sort tasks by urgency. write things down promptly to avoid forgetting them.

by freeing your mind from trying to remember all of your tasks, this mental offloading allows you to focus on the present moment. you can also assign urgency and importance, ensuring you will tackle what matters most.

★ give everything a home. clutter happens when items lack designated spaces. organize your physical and digital spaces intentionally.

★ once organized, maintain order consistently by building habits and systems. regularly review and adjust your systems when needed.

maintaining daily habits can significantly contribute to staying organized.

digital files

personally, the biggest issue i have with organization is building (and maintaining) a good system for digital files. it is crucial for me to learn how to organize these well, however, as a digital creator.

here is the process:

★ create a folder structure,, and design a clear hierarchy of folders that reflect your workflow. organize files logically based on projects, departments, dates, or file types.

at the moment i sort my files as content home < links, content plan, instagram, pinterest, tumblr, youtube < scheduling, post ideas

however, sometimes i find myself with documents that don't fit any of these sections. my plan for the future is to reorganize this to be the most effective it can.

★ use descriptive file names,, and name files clearly and concisely. include relevant keywords to make searching easier

★ consider using tags to categorize files across multiple dimensions. tags enhance searchability and allow flexible organization.

this is something that i am looking to employ!

★ utilize cloud services like google drive or dropbox for easy access from anywhere.

i will forever be a notion girl,, even though it is not quite a cloud service, it allows me a similar experience.

★ make decluttering a routine. delete duplicate or unnecessary files.

★ pin essential folders to your sidebar for quick access.

physical decluttering

writing this, i was reminded of the (horrid) bedrotting trend, especially those videos where people would show their rooms with shit everywhere and mould growing on stuff. i'm aware that some people find it super hard to maintain organization or declutter - hoarding is a very real issue.

the benefits of staying organized were previously mentioned, but decluttering specifically has its own little set of positives. this includes reduced stress, improved focus, enhanced productivity, and more positive overall wellbeing.

here are some essential tips if you are struggling to get started:

choose a small area or category to begin decluttering. set a timer (15-30 minutes) and sort items in that area into 'keep', 'donate', 'trash', or 'unsure' piles.

you could also attempt a room-by-room approach, by tackling one room at a time. focus on completing each room fully before moving on to the next.

try to organize your belongings into categories (keep, donate, sell, discard) to make decisions easier.

remember - progress comes from consistent effort, and small steps lead to a clutter-free space.

further reading

i hope today's post was helpful!

as for further reading, check out these sites: ★ How to Declutter Your Home: 6 Best Room-by-Room Methods (thespruce.com) ★ First Steps to Decluttering - Understanding the Clutter - Being Minimalist ★ Productivity, Organization & Personal-Development | 101 Planners ★ Executive Functioning Skills 101: Organization | Life Skills Advocate ★ How to Be Organized - 10+ Habits - Organized 31 ★ How to Be More Organized & Productive | 10 Habits for Life Organization (youtube.com) ★ How to Be More Organized (verywellmind.com) ★ How to Organize Your Digital Files | Reviews by Wirecutter (nytimes.com) ★ Master How to Organize Digital File Management (riverfy.com)

❤️ nene

image source: pinterest

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covid-safer-hotties · 1 month ago

Text

Also preserved on our archive

By Jessica Wildfire

Yet another city is proposing to ban masks. They’re doing it at the worst possible time, as we face mounting threats that range from airborne diseases to pollution, wildfires, and industrial accidents.

It’s irresponsible and unethical.

In the wake of yet another shooting, Louisville mayor Craig Greenberg has announced plans to bring back an obsolete mask ban in a superficial, misguided effort to curb gun violence. Greenberg claims it will keep residents safe, but this ban will only put them in greater danger. Written decades ago, the ordinance does nothing to address a new range of threats that ordinary citizens face in this century. Those threats include industrial accidents like the one that recently happened in Atlanta, putting hundreds of thousands at risk of lethal gases. Winds are now spreading that massive chemical cloud all over the metro region, prompting shelter-in-place warnings throughout the city and surrounding suburbs.

This time, it’s a massive plume of chlorine gas. For perspective, chlorine gas was a weapon used in WWI. So it’s not an exaggeration to say that residents of the Atlanta area, where I grew up, are now essentially under a chemical attack, thanks to corporate deregulation and mismanagement.

The Atlanta disaster marks the fifth time in a single month that an industrial accident has put an entire city at risk. Even when there’s not an emergency, air pollution now directly kills 8.1 million people a year, including 2,000 children every single day. New studies have also found that wildfire smoke contains carbon monoxide, benzene, cyanide, and other chemicals that cause direct heart and lung damage, leading to chronic health problems for survivors. As the last few years have shown, everyone everywhere now faces that threat, not just one coast.

There has never been a better time to wear a mask, and there has never been a worse time to revive obsolete, outdated laws that only pretend to provide safety while making everyone more vulnerable.

Our supposed political allies have remained silent on these mask bans, and they continue to express a disturbing level of anti-mask rhetoric. For example, NIAID director Jeanne Marrazzo recently complained about being accused of a “microaggression” during a meeting:

We recently had a long Covid [research] meeting where we had about 200 people, in person. And we can’t mandate mask-wearing, because it’s federal property. But there was a fair amount of disturbance that we couldn’t, and people weren’t wearing masks, and one person accused us of committing a microaggression by not wearing masks. And I take that very seriously. But I thought to myself, it’s more that people just want to live a normal life. We really don’t want to go back. It was so painful. We’re still all traumatized. Let’s be honest about that. None of us are over that. So there’s not a lot of appetite for raising an alarm, especially if it could be perceived subsequently as a false alarm.

This view sounds out of touch, to say the least. There’s no false alarm when it comes to these threats, only false sentiment.

As Jeanne Marrazzo complains about being “traumatized” by wearing a mask, ordinary people around the world are traumatized daily by threats to their health, including anti-maskers who have already started abusing mask bans to intimidate, threaten, and actively harm us. We’ve already seen reports of people being assaulted and denied service because of their masks. At a hospital in D.C., an ER nurse even threatened to call security on an immunocompromised woman because she declined to remove her mask during treatment.

These mask bans are emboldening anti-mask aggression everywhere, not just in the cities and counties where they pass.

Science has shown that it only takes 5 seconds to infect someone with an airborne disease. Any mask ban that allows a police officer or private citizen to demand someone take off their mask threatens their lives. Meanwhile, these bans will do nothing to stop crime. Studies have shown that sunglasses do a better job of concealing your identity than a medical respirator, and that these masks don’t interfere with facial recognition software.

These laws accomplish nothing, except to make life unbearable for people trying to protect their health. Earlier this year, a survey with more than a thousand respondents found that nearly half of people who wear masks are facing daily harassment, discrimination, and persecution.

The reasons for everyone to wear a good mask are piling up by the day. Covid continues to spread around the world, with multiple waves a year. An avalanche of studies have shown, without a doubt, that mild Covid infections pose a serious risk to everyone’s long-term health, not just the vulnerable.

Meanwhile, suspected cases of H5N1 bird flu are multiplying, especially in Missouri, while public health agencies drag their feet. Like Covid, flu does long-term damage to multiple organ systems, including the brain. Despite this knowledge, public health agencies have refused to expand testing.

Recent studies and reports have found a range of diseases returning 10-30 times worse than prepandemic norms, likely due to a mass disabling of our immune systems caused by Covid itself. A number of viruses threaten another pandemic, which climate scientists have predicted will occur more frequently as animals compete with each other and humans for dwindling habitable space.

A recent outbreak of Marburg virus has begun spreading outside of Africa, with suspected cases in Belgium and Germany, where police stormed a train station and closed off two tracks, evacuating hundreds of passengers. To quell mass panic, mainstream news has assured the public that Marburg isn’t airborne. However, Marburg can spread through respiratory droplets, including coughing and sneezing. That means an N95 mask or better offers protection.

As a 2020 article in the International Journal of Infectious Diseases states, “Although frank airborne transmission has not been demonstrated in human outbreaks, droplet spread to mucous membranes presumably occurs” and “infection by direct application of aerosol to the airways has been demonstrated in animal models.”

Another article in Viruses on this family of pathogens, including Marburg and Ebola, found that up to 17 percent of transmission did not happen through direct physical contact, suggesting “human to human respiratory tract infection through droplets and aerosols.” The authors also say that because we have such limited data on Marburg outbreaks, we can’t make assumptions about transmission.

Finally, a 2023 report from Homeland Security states that Marburg virus “may also transmit via aerosol and fomites.”

Given what we’ve learned about the aerosolized spread of disease, there is absolutely no reason to take chances with a virus like Marburg, which exists in the same family as Ebola, causes similar symptoms, and carries a mortality rate between 50 and 90 percent, depending on your access to care. According to a report by Boston University, “transmission via droplets is suspected” for both Ebola and Marburg. Given that agencies like the CDC and the WHO have spent years denying or downplaying the airborne nature of other viruses, it’s reasonable and proactive to consider Marburg as potentially respiratory, and therefore to count it as one more reason to wear a good-fitting respirator.

It might feel dystopian to say this, but it’s true: We live in a world where it’s becoming dangerous just to breathe. That means wearing a good medical mask but also adopting different masks for different emergencies. Many professionals recommend a half-face or full-face respirator with appropriate cartridges to protect yourself from organic and acid gases. Some of these cartridges also filter out particulates. A thread by Erin Sanders provides a good overview.

Five years ago, I never thought I’d be shopping for gas masks for my family to protect us from industrial accidents and wildfires.

And yet, here we are.

A CDC study found that the most common gases you’ll face during an industrial accident include carbon monoxide, ammonia, chlorine, hydrochloric acid, and sulfuric acid. We recently bought 3M’s 6502QL half-face respirator with a set of P100 60926 cartridges. Each cartridge should last about 48 hours, long enough to get to safety. The masks themselves come in three different sizes. The small provides a decent fit for our six-year-old. Many companies like Draeger also make respirators. I wouldn’t get them from just any prepper site. This is yet another expense the cautious will take on, assuming they can even afford it.

We can only speculate about the motivations behind the growing anti-mask stance adopted by our institutions, who associate masks with anxiety, trauma, mental illness, crime, and hate. A government that sends out expired Covid tests while spending hundreds of billions on weapons clearly doesn’t want to feel any pressure to pay for us to protect ourselves from airborne threats. Even if it’s not conscious malice, they clearly benefit from the public viewing masks as a liability and not an essential survival tool to protect themselves.

It’s hard to describe how demoralizing and infuriating it is to watch a majority of our own political party adopt ignorance as their platform.

It’s an absolute betrayal.

Campaign strategists and political advisors are making a deep mistake if they think these poor decisions won’t have political consequences. For every public health advocate who wills themselves up to vote, two or three will find little reason to support a party that has abandoned them. Imagine talking about political freedom and bodily autonomy as liberal governors and mayors join conservatives to engage in egregious violations of personal choice. Imagine them staying silent as anti-maskers gleefully celebrate the death and injury of the vulnerable and immunocompromised as some kind of divine justice for the inconvenience of mask mandates that were never strictly enforced, even on public transportation.

We cannot stand back and watch these mask bans spread across the country as leaders look for convenient excuses and scapegoats.

Aren’t we better than that?

I used to think so.

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tumbleweed-writes · 8 months ago

Text

Death and the Lady: Chibs Telford X Reader: Chapter Three

Chapter Two found HERE

Chapter Three: Roses

She was almost amazed she’d managed to keep her cool after the horrible deed she’d just completed for SAMCRO. Y/N was astonished she’d been so calm and cool throughout both the task and the aftermath.

She’d been able to maintain the appearance of a competent, professional, and caring funeral director as she’d worked helping show possible options for caskets, discussed burial plots, cost of embalming, an obituary, flower arrangements, and viewings.

One of Charming California’s most prominent restaurateurs, Jonathan Meyer, had not noticed anything amiss as he’d spoken with Y/N about funeral arrangements for his late grandmother.

No one would be none the wiser about the fact that three members of SAMCRO had just recently been in her place of business and retrieved a corpse from Y/N. She cringed knowing that there would be a buried empty casket by this time next week and the dead man’s family would never know. No one would ever know aside from SAMCRO and her. The secret would be literally six feet under in Charming’s local cemetery.

The thought sent a chill down her spine but based on her outside appearance and behavior no one would ever guess.

Y/N had always been gifted at compartmentalizing her emotions and thoughts. It was a necessary skill set in her line of work. One couldn’t allow negative emotions of grief or any other feelings to cloud the ability to get the job done when it came both to embalming the deceased and conducting a successful funeral service.

She was worryingly a professional when it came to being able to shove the horrid mixture of guilt, shame, and fear back into some little drawer in her brain and keep the appearance of a professional whose only care in the world was serving the bereaved.

Now that she was truly all alone in her office downstairs, Y/N found her brain taunting her with possibilities of just why SAMCRO even wanted two corpses from her to begin with. It was a disturbing request and one that she’d honored.

To be honest she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know just what the MC wanted with the dead bodies she’d provided. She had a feeling knowing just what they’d wanted with them would only trouble her further.

It was getting late and so far she’d not heard a word from SAMCRO. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or troubled by the silence.

Though she knew that she should go upstairs and try to wind down from the day, she found herself parked at her desk trapped in a pit of selfpity and anguish.

Her brain taunted her with the distinct possibility of SAMCRO being caught doing whatever the hell it was they were doing, and this all leading right back to her doorstep. She knew if any of this led back to her then the fallout would be ruinous.

It was more than just the fear of a fine or fear of possibly being arrested. It was the fear of everything she’d lose if the discovery of this horrible deed led back to her front steps.

She knew if any of this led back to her then she’d lose literally everything she held dear and had fought to achieve. She would not only lose the respect of the community, her entire livelihood, and possibly even the home and business she’d wanted so badly to preserve.

The years of schooling, a hard earned apprenticeship, time spent studying and testing for licensure both in New York and California would be meaningless.

She’d lose her license and this would mean losing the family legacy she’d tried so hard to upkeep.

It wasn’t just the guilt of what she’d done and the fear of being caught that troubled her. It was the realization that Jackson freaking Teller had somehow wormed his way back into her life bringing SAMCRO right along with him.

She cringed, hating the sense that she felt as though was right back where she’d started almost a decade before. She was back to once again being entangled in SAMCRO’s world. It was a world she’d thought she’d moved on from.

She had foolishly thought the MC was a thing of her past. She wasn’t partying alongside them anymore, but she was working with them. She wasn’t sure which scenario felt worse.

She glared up at an old black and white photograph hanging on the wall in her office, the photo featuring some great grandfather of hers way back when standing by an ancient looking hearse. She felt the words slide from her lips, filled with bitterness. “I bet you never had to deal with this kind of crap when this place and gig was yours.”

She slumped back in her desk chair, her stomach and heart twisting when she spotted a small photo she kept framed on her desk. The photo of her father and she sat almost taunting her. It had been taken soon after she’d graduated from mortuary school. Her father had been so proud of her; proud she’d taken up the family legacy on her own terms and so proud she’d outgrown her wild streak running around with Jax Teller and SAMCRO.

She felt her eyes water she quick to reach up and wipe any tears that threatened to spill. A sense of shame washed over her as her mind taunted her wondering what her father would think of her now.

Her father and she may have butted heads when she’d been a rebellious teen, but she’d loved him dearly.

She missed him dearly. It had only been four months since he’d passed and to be honest she’d thrown herself into taking up the family business. Throwing herself into the family business and all the debt and dealing with her brother was far easier than facing her feelings of loss and pain.

She’d always admired her father. It wasn’t just his dedication to the profession that she’d loved. It was everything about her dad.

Her father had been a handsome man, though a bear of a man if there ever was one. He was tall and broad shouldered. He was strong, incredibly so not just physically but mentally.

She knew she’d gotten her smaller build from her late mother.

Her father and her brother though both were practical lumberjacks.

Seeing younger photos of her father made her easily understand just why her mother must have fallen for him.

Her father was handsome, strong, dependable, loyal, and proud of a profession that he viewed as being more of a service and duty to his community.

She’d always found it a little funny. Her father, as huge and intimidating as he appeared, was so mild-mannered and calm.

He’d been a gentle parent even when she’d been going through her rebellious phase and probably needed a bit of a tougher hand. Her father had been so patient of her even offering her an escape when it had all become too much.

Her father had taught her everything he knew about the family business. He’d started her young, being frank with her about just what the family business consisted of.

She’d still been a kid when he’d brought her downstairs and showed her the tools of the trade.

It wasn’t until she was an adult that she’d realized that this seemingly charming, at least to her, childhood memory horrified people when she recalled it.

She guessed she got the reaction. People assumed her father had been some kind of sadist trying to torment a child far too young by exposing her both to death and the funeral business.

She knew though that it had been more of her father’s attempt to bond with her. It was the only way he knew how to bond with his children after his wife’s death.

Most kids' dads taught them to play baseball and change oil in a car. Her dad taught her about embalming and how to change the oil in a hearse.

She knew most people would never understand the comfort she’d found surrounded by death. It was all she’d ever known after all.

Her core memories consisted of mourners trailing in and out of the home, the fact that caskets were displayed on the first floor of her home, corpses could be found in the basement, and the realization that everyone died.

Her father had always taught her not to fear death. The biggest lesson she’d learned was that though everyone died; dying was nothing to dread. Death was inevitable and no one could say for sure what laid beyond death. One should never spend their lives fearing the end though. If anything one should be amazed that death gave the opportunity to appreciate how beautiful life truly was. Her father had taught her that although she would die one day that she should be in awe of the fact that anyone even had the opportunity to live at all to begin with.

During the past few years of his life her father and she had begun to have longer conversations at least once a week. They’d had much needed heart to hearts admitting mistakes they’d both made and regrets they both had.

She’d been able to hear that her father was proud of her. He was proud of the young woman she’d become.

She had been so proud of the woman she had become up until now.

She’d been so proud that she’d turned over a new leaf and grown into a better person. This entire deal she’d made with the MC proved that she was not at all the better person she proclaimed to be.

She sighed, reaching up to toy with the small golden cross pendant hanging around her neck.

Although she had been snarky with Jax, she could admit she was no woman scorned.

She knew way back when she was hanging around SAMCRO neither she nor Jax had any preconceived notions about just what she and he were doing.

She had been looking for a place to rebel and an environment to escape how angry and miserable she felt and he’d been behaving just as the Prince of SAMCRO should.

She wasn’t bitter or angry about their history no matter how brief and messy it had been.

She just hated the person she’d been back then. The girl she’d been almost ten years ago had hated everything and everyone. Most of all though, she’d hated herself.

She had looked in the mirror and had seen nothing but sadness in her features back then.

Y/N hated who she was before.

She feared becoming that girl again, hating herself and seeing nothing but sorrow staring back at her in the mirror.

She felt her stomach twist all the further the words sliding from her lips as she tore her eyes from the photo of her father and she, the words soft . “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

She was pulled from her pity party as her cell phone chimed an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen.

She answered the call trying to keep her voice level and peaceful as though she hadn’t been trapped in a cycle of dread. “Y/N speaking.”

“Y/N, jus the lass I was tryin to reach. Jackie Boy asked me to call ya up.” The voice on the other end of the call sounded out, it taking her brain a moment to both work through the thick Scottish accent and to realize just who was on the other end of the call.

She felt a nervous flutter in her stomach as it hit her just who she was speaking to. She could still remember the previous reaction her body had to the Scottish Son. It was something that both troubled her and excited her and she was trying to convince herself she hated it.

She furrowed her brow, it hitting her that she didn’t even know the man’s name. No formal introductions had actually been made during the few interactions she’d had with SAMCRO lately.

She widened her eyes as the voice sounded out again. “Y/N, lass? Are ya there?”

“I am…what can I do for you?” She remarked, snapping out of it almost dreading what response would be.

She cringed remembering Jax’s comment about possibly needing to borrow her access to the crematorium later on. This was most likely what this call concerned.

She continued to toy with the cross pendant around her neck as the voice spoke up again. “Clay, I’m assumin ya know him…wants ta know if ya can give us access to the crematorium tomorrow nigh?”

She sighed hating that she was right on the money concerning just what this was about. “What time?”

“Late.” Was the only reply she earned.

She scoffed gazing down at the rich mahogany desktop in front of her. “How late?”

“After midnight, prolly close to bout one a.m. Keepin discreet is important.” The voice finally replied.

She glanced down at the time on her laptop, her stomach turning as she realized that it was getting late. She had a long night and a long day tomorrow that would apparently end with another long night. “Okay…I will need to be there to run the machinery…I’m not about to try to pull an innocent explanation out my ass if the damn thing got busted because I let one of you run it. I’m not coming up with a reasonable lie because some idiot screwed up an expensive piece of machinery. That thing costs a fortune and I’m not the only funeral home in the area that uses it. It’s owned by the city, local government owns the cemetery. Most of us don’t own an on site cremator so we all pay to use the thing.”

She was certain she almost heard a chuckle on the other end of the line. “Aye fair nough.”

She took a deep breath working up the nerve to say it. “I’ll expect payment of course, for my time and effort.”

The amusement still seemed to be clear in her conversation partner’s voice as he replied. “Aye o’course. Clay said yer gonna be paid well fer the favor an he appreciates yer willingness to help with future…needs.”

She felt her stomach turn it hitting her that she’d definitely set herself up for this. She had opened the door for future favors, so she shouldn’t be shocked. She needed the money badly enough to keep the door open for future favors.

She cleared her throat trying to sound calmer than she felt. “Perfect…I’ll see you around one then.”

She paused, unable to stop herself from asking the curiosity too strong to ignore. “Uh…”

She frowned realizing she still didn’t know the Scot’s name. She wasn’t sure if it was appropriate to ask now…it just felt too awkward given the conversation.

He thankfully heard the small sound she’d made. “Aye?”

She spoke knowing it was now or never. “Everything turned out okay…with you know? Uh…the cups of sugar. Nothing went wrong?”

Chibs snickered as it hit him exactly what she was hinting at, recalling her words to Jax as he’d first requested the bodies from her: you aren’t asking me to let you borrow a freaking cup of sugar here.

“Nah, no issues on our end love.” He remarked, deciding to leave out some of the more exciting details about just all that had happened today. What she didn’t know didn’t hurt her.

She felt her heart race at the word love. She pushed back the reaction it gave her. She ignored the slight flush to her cheeks and the voice in the back of her head that claimed she could get accustomed to being called love as she spoke. “Oh, uh…good to hear…I think.”

She frowned, hating how awkward she felt. She hated feeling as though the man on the other end of the call and the men he associated with had the upper hand here.

“Aye, told ya it’d turn out. I don’t make a habit of lyin to pretty lasses.” Chibs was quick to reply the comment making her cheeks flush all the darker.

She spoke a small huff leaving her not missing the attempt to flirt. “I highly doubt that. I’ll see you gentlemen later, tomorrow night at the agreed time. Don’t be late…again.”

And with that she hung up ignoring the strange cocktail of fear, anxiety, shame, and desire for her caller that washed over her.

She groaned, dropping her cell on her desk. She took a deep breath trying to calm her racing heart and the strange sense of lust perking up in her. This was so not what she needed. She refused to go down that path. She was not the girl who got all hot and bothered just because the intimidating biker was flirting…even if that intimidating biker did have a lovely accent and equally lovely eyes and dimples.

She stared back up that same photo of her great grandfather that she’d gazed at earlier, a bitter sigh escaping her lips. “You so didn’t have to put up with this bullshit when the gig was yours.”

==================================================

Chibs smirked as he hung up his cell having to feel pleased as can be with himself even as she’d abruptly ended the call and hadn’t exactly responded to his attempts to flirt as eagerly as he’d hoped.

He had the distinct feeling Y/N was going to prove to be a challenge. It was a refreshing realization. The croweaters around the club were not a challenge. They required no effort at all.

He had to like the concept that Y/N was the kind of girl who required an effort. Although he could admit he found it intimidating.

It had been a long time since he had to put in effort when it came to a woman.

He could admit he found himself at a loss as to why he was so eager to put in the effort.

The easiest answer he could pull together was that he found her fascinating and he was curious.

He knew of course that curiosity killed the cat, but he’d never been one to shy away from the threat of being killed.

He was unable to resist saving the number to his contacts before he dropped the cell on the bar in front of him.

He nodded to the croweater behind the bar as she eagerly poured him a glass of Jameson.

Just a week ago he would have probably been tempted to drag the croweater away for a little bedroom entertainment, but he found himself disinterested in the concept.

He was surprised to find that there was only one woman he wouldn’t mind having some bedroom time with.

He easily found his brain remembering those curves and those legs of hers and how it was a damn shame those legs had been hidden under tights today. He wouldn’t mind having those legs wrapped around him. He also was quite able to vividly recall the incredible cleavage he’d spotted that first meeting in the crematorium. He would be quite happy to bury his face against that cleavage. He was certain he could die happy with his face buried there and the lower part of his anatomy buried in what lay between those glorious legs of hers.

He shifted in his seat, the thought exciting him. He took a slow sip from his drink doing all he could to not allow his brain to slide down the rabbit hole of lust.

He could remember Juice’s comment that Y/N was spooky but hot.

Chibs had to admit he found her to be less spooky though she did frighten him a little…or at least the thoughts he had about her frightened him.

Her job was intense to say the least, but Chibs had never been one to shy away from the intense. The morbid nature of her job didn’t trouble him as much as it probably should.

He was too entranced by her to pay too much thought to the fact that she embalmed and buried the dead for a living.

She was morbid but somehow tantalizing. She seemed elegant, confident, and intelligent. Those weren’t qualities he’d found with a woman he’d pursued since Fiona.

The thought was terrifying.

He cringed at the thought of his estranged wife and the history related to her and he. There was a lot of pain there. It wasn’t a trip down memory lane he wanted to go down, not when he was currently infatuated with an entirely different woman.

He glanced up from his drink as Bobby dropped down beside him giving him a nod. “You get everything settled with her?”

“Aye, she’ll meet us tomorrow. She’ll run tha machinery at her insistence. We jus gotta bring the payment.” Chibs replied a small smirk crossing his features as he remembered her comment about just why she had to run the crematorium.

He was once again amused that she was ballsy enough to be just a little insulting by essentially implying they were idiots who would break the cremator if she didn’t run it herself. He had a feeling he’d not exactly tolerate the disrespect from a woman who he didn’t fancy.

Bobby raised an eyebrow spotting the hint of a look he’d never seen on Chibs’ face before. He quickly connected the dots that the somewhat lovesick smirk on Chibs’ lips and the SONS new associate at the funeral home were connected.

He spoke, deciding to keep the comment casual. “Interesting having her back in town…Y/N. Thought she’d never show up again after she left.”

“Aye? How’d she leave?” Chibs replied, that spark of curiosity bubbling up in him again.

Bobby shrugged accepting his own drink from the croweater behind the bar. “Nothing too dramatic, not really my place to say. It seemed like she just stopped coming around one day, next thing anyone knows her dad shipped her out east. She was pretty young though. Shit just probably got to be too intense for her.”

Chibs dared to ask though he’d already asked Jax a similar question. He wasn’t entirely satisfied with the reply he’d gotten from Jax. “Aye, she mentioned bein a club hanground.”

He paused, gazing at the croweater uncertain of how to broach the subject. He spoke again, deciding to be a little more tactful even though he didn’t particularly care what the croweater thought about how the Sons viewed her. “Was she one of our Friday nigh lasses?”

Bobby shook his head, a small smirk crossing his lips. “Not exactly. To be honest I think most of the guys around here were intimidated by the fact that her daddy could bury us alive literally…a few nomads weren’t so wise but…like I said she wasn’t what you’re thinking. Shit was complicated.”

He paused the next statement only making Chibs feel more frustrated. “Not my story to tell though. It’s been almost a decade, pretty sure most of us who were around back then have killed a few brain cells since then to fully recall every last detail.”

Chibs resisted the urge to remark that he was sick of hearing that line: It’s not my story to tell.

Chibs shifted in his seat the conversation doing little to sate his curiosity. It only left him feeling more intrigued. He wanted to know just what was so complicated.

Y/N was definitely a puzzle he wanted to solve. He was determined to solve it.

—----------------------------------------------

Y/N was relieved to pull up to the crematorium late the next night to see that the SONS were actually on time.

It seemed that lateness was only a trait Jax Teller held.

She tried to keep her cool as she shut off her engine of her little black 2003 Acura and exited the car her purse held tight in her grasp.

She busied herself digging through the purse for the keys to access the crematorium as she approached the line of motorcycles and one unremarkable looking white van. She easily realized that a boring white van might be favorable for a more discreet task. After all, a van attracted far less attention than Harleys.

She cringed as another familiar Son approached her; she just as displeased to see him as she’d been to see Jax Teller. “Doll, can’t thank you enough for doing this.”

She gave Tig Trager one small glance before focusing back on the contents of her purse. “Don’t thank me.”

He held his hands up in mock defeat he fast to reply. “Still charming as always.”

“Same could be said for you.” She remarked fast to reply to the observation.

If her mood wasn’t sour enough another person she wasn’t entirely pleased with approached her. Jax speaking. “Thanks for the favor darlin”

“Don’t thank her.” Tig was fast to remark, parroting the words she’d said earlier.

She rolled her eyes not wanting to engage with either man. Though Tig and she didn’t exactly share the same history Jax and she shared, she was still not looking to chat like old times with the Son.

Chatting like old buddies with either man made her feel too much like the angry young woman she’d once been, the one who hated herself and didn’t care what happened to her.

Chibs stood aside with Juice and Half Sack observing the exchange. He raised an eyebrow sensing Y/N’s sour mood.

He had a feeling it was about to get more bitter once she saw just why they needed access to the crematorium.

He approached Juice and Half Sack following along beside him. The prospect spoke nodding to her car. “You drive an Acura?”

She rolled her eyes as she finally located the necessary keys. “The hearse attracts too much attention…besides the casket I have in the back rattles around the backend when I drive. It’s kind of distracting.”

She felt a small sense of satisfaction when she noticed the young man’s face pale at the latter part of her statement. She’d found, as cruel as it was, that it was far too easy to screw around with people when they asked her stupid questions.

It wasn’t exactly something she made a habit of. She usually prided herself in being able to make death and the funeral business less terrifying and intimidating to the average public.

She had to enjoy making the members of SAMCRO feel uneasy though. It was kind of an ego trip seeing the definition of danger get nervous over some bullshit she told them about her job.

Chibs smirked, only allowing Half Sack to fret for a brief moment before he gave him a smack on the back of the head. “She’s fuckin with ya, ya half nutted muppet.”

She furrowed her brow not missing the half nutted comment. She shoved the question dancing around on the end of her tongue about this statement back telling herself she didn’t want to know.

She ignored the little playful smile Chibs tossed her way. She did her best to pretend she wasn’t reminded of the feelings that had washed over her during the phone call they’d shared the day before.

The Scottish Son was an interesting one. She was finding it hard not to admit this to herself.

She spoke holding the keys up. “I’ll unlock the doors.”

She cringed her stomach dropping as Tig spoke nodding to both Half Sack and Juice. “Get the bodies.”

She took a deep breath trying to calm her nerves. Of course there were bodies. She wasn’t naive enough to think they needed to borrow her access to the cremator without there being bodies to cremate.

She felt bile rise in her throat refusing to question if she was considered some kind of accessory after the fact related to what she was about to help burn.

Wasn’t this considered destroying evidence?

Chibs entered the crematorium eyeing Y/N as she dropped her purse on the cabinet in the corner of the room she busying herself finding those thick black gloves he’d spotted on her hands that first day.

He watched her having to admit that he noticed the curve of her backside in the jeans she wore. He was pleased to see she wore another tight fitting pair of jeans. The black denim hugged her bottom and hips in a way that left Chibs feeling envious of the fabric.

He watched her shrug her soft looking plum hooded jacket off placing it over her purse. He admired the way the black top she wore gave him another view of clevage. He was also amused to spot those pink converse on her feet again.

He watched as she pulled a hair tie off from around her wrist pulling her hair up into a messy looking top knot.

He spoke unable to stop himself, wanting to soothe any anxiety she might have about the circumstances behind the bodies she was about to help cremate. He couldn’t help but to hate the thought of her thinking she was some kind of accessory to murder. “It was an accident…found em in…a property of ours that caught fire.”

She furrowed her brow wanting to ask if it was just an accident then why was it so important to get rid of these bodies?

She told herself it was probably not a great idea to ask too many questions. She had a feeling the Scotsman wouldn’t tell her the entire truth anyhow.

She cringed not having time to focus on the thought as Half Sack and Juice entered the room carrying two bodies wrapped in old looking blankets.

She took a deep breath as she moved towards the cremator opening and pulling out the drawer nodding down to it. “Put them down here. We should be able to cremate both together…it might take longer but it’s doable.”

The men deposited the bodies stepping back Y/N left to glance down at them. She grimaced at the sight of the two bodies. They were young women from what she could see. They’d been dead for a few days she guessed by the level of decay.

It wasn’t the worst deceased body she’d seen, but the realization that she was about to cremate these two nameless women did send a chill through her.

She yanked her glance from them as Jax stepped forward distracting her. “We have your payment.”

She took the envelope not missing the heft of it. She resisted the urge to open it and count it the thought seeming cruel given what she was doing.

She placed the envelope within her purse unaware that Chibs was studying her he taking notice of the way she’d gazed down at the corpses and the hint of sympathy in her eyes.

He couldn’t help but to be troubled by it. It was a surprising realization; that it bothered him that she was upset doing something that would get the club out of a huge pile of shit.

He pushed the thought from his mind as he watched her work getting everything together.

She moved quickly just wanting to get this over with. The sooner this ended the sooner she could go home and probably have a sleepless night. She had a feeling she’d need a good shower and maybe a drink when she got home.

She pushed in the drawer mentally apologizing to the bodies she was about to cremate. She was certain this wasn’t their end of life plans. She was sure they were far too young to consider such plans.

She ignored thoughts of any family they might have left behind or any dreams they might never achieve.

She knew she had to compartmentalize those feelings and focus on the task at hand.

The machine was started up Y/N speaking as she worked finding it easy to talk about what she was doing in a technical sense than to actually acknowledge how screwed up this all was. “It will take a moment to get to the right temp. It needs to reach up to at least 1,400 degrees fahrenheit to burn. We’ll probably want to go a little higher given that we’re…burning more. It might take up to three hours…that’s for one body though. I don’t know about more than that…It’s not legal to burn more than one at once honestly.”

She cleared her throat as she spoke again. “I’m going to have to just assume we’re going to be pushing the three hour mark considering that is usually the time it takes to cremate a heavier body.”

She stepped aside surprised that the Sons moved forward lining up in front of the machine. She was uncertain if they just wanted to be sure the job was being done or if they were actually paying their respects in some weird messed up way.

She stood to the side not certain of what else she should do.

They stood in silence for a long while the entire situation feeling both surreal and daunting.

Half Sack spoke as they gazed at the bodies within the crematorium. “Should we say a prayer or something?”

Juice snickered his comment earning a grimace from Y/N. “You know any bible passages about lost semen.”

Chibs took notice of the look of disapproval on Y/N’s features. He couldn’t help but to cringe himself it seemed his young brother wasn’t exactly making the best impression. He reached out smacking Juice’s shoulder harshly, the action wiping the smirk from the man’s lips.

Chibs resisted the urge to glance over at Y/N and check and see if she’d noticed his disapproval and was aware he wasn’t being as crude and disrespectful as his young associate.

He was a bit surprised he cared so much what she thought of him especially in a situation like this. She probably already disapproved of them all.

He couldn’t help but to hate the thought that she might think he was disrespectful enough to not at least understand the gravity of what they were doing. This essentially was the only funeral these women would get.

Tig spoke thankfully finding something to say that was a bit more respectful, a prayer leaving his lips. “May a ray of sunshine warm your souls amen.”

With that they stepped back enough to allow Y/N to move forward, shutting the door and turning up the heat, she doing her best to turn her mind off and not focus on how awful this all felt.

Time seemed to move far too slowly and no one seemed that concerned that they were clearly going to stand here the entire time it took to completely cremate the remains.

Everyone seemed to have the sense to not speak even Juice and Half Sack.

When it was clear that the bodies were getting closer and closer to being ashes Tig spoke. “We should go.”

Jax nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah.”

He turned to face Y/N fast to speak again. “Thanks for helping us. I know this wasn’t ideal.”

She shook her head a small bitter laugh leaving her not sounding humored at all. “Nope, not ideal.”

Jax spoke, giving her arm a gentle squeeze. “I can’t promise the next favor won’t be less shitty.”

She moved from his grasp crossing her arms over her chest, the act almost seeming as though she was trying to protect herself. Chibs took notice of it, surprised that he wanted to reach out and provide some reassurance.

She moved towards the cabinet she speaking over her shoulder. “I’ve got it from here boys.”

Everyone but Chibs seemed to take the hint, happy to be out of the crematorium and escape this entire situation.

Jax spoke over his shoulder as he moved to leave. “We really are grateful for the help, Y/N. You’re keeping us out of some deep shit.”

She sighed, shaking her head, her voice monotone, not seeming comforted by the thought that she was helping them escape what was most likely the consequences of their own actions. “Yeah, sure.”

She pushed back the judgment knowing deep down she wasn’t much better. She was accepting money for this. She wasn’t an angel.

Chibs didn’t speak until only they remained in the room. He cleared his throat nodding over to the cremator. “What are ya goin to do with tha ashes?”

She raised an eyebrow almost fearing he was testing her to see if she was going to run to the cops. She was tempted to point out the primary chemical elements that were in cremains were just calcium phosphate and sodium. No forensics team could pull any evidence from cremains.

She didn’t have a chance to dwell on fears that he was testing if she was likely to snitch as he spoke again. “I mean…we don’ know wha they woulda wanted. I imagine they were young nough not to think bout it.”

She shrugged her shoulders a bit surprised that he seemed to genuinely care. She’d almost expected him to disappear off into the night like his brothers and leave her to clean up what remained.

She spoke nodding her head towards the entrance of the crematorium. “There’s some old mausoleums out near one of the back corners of the property. They’re old as hell…the city uh they are responsible for maintaining the landscaping…so there’s rose bushes near them. It might be nice to bury the ashes under the roses. It’s at least some final resting place.”

Chibs nodded his head, a small half smile crossing his features, having to find it kind of endearing that she’d put this much thought into it. She really did have a passion for her job. “Aye, tha’ sounds nice…are ya doin it tonigh?”

“Yeah, probably shouldn’t do it during daylight. I think I can manage it tonight. I can figure out how to dig a hole.” She remarked not wanting to admit she wouldn’t be able to rest tonight until she’d done this.

A small part of her almost had to hope that providing a final resting place for the remains would at least make up for some of the horrible things she’d done over the past two days.

Chibs took her by shock he speaking. “I’ll go with ya.”

She furrowed her brow a tiny paranoid part of her almost fearing that he’d off her once he’d gotten her alone. Maybe she’d been too pushy with the MC asking for payment. Maybe they were just going to get rid of her.

She shook the thought from her mind, reminding herself that she was still useful to SAMCRO. She was right, she was more reliable than Skeeter any day of the week.

Chibs spoke again, spotting the tiny hint of fear in her eyes, hating that she might fear him and believe he might intend to harm her. “Lotta homeless probably hang round this place at nigh. Can’t trust that someone with less morals won’t see ya and ya know.”

She cringed quickly coming up with a few scenarios that the you know seemed to imply.

“Okay, sounds good.” She remarked, turning her attention back to her work.

—----------

The two didn’t speak again until they reached the mausoleums Y/N had described. Chibs gazed up at them there was something eerie about them in the dark. He was relieved Y/N seemed to be smart enough to carry a little flashlight in her purse.

She handed the flashlight to him a small sigh leaving her lips. “Hold this while I dig.”

He was tempted to insist that he could be the one to dig the hole. It seemed to be the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He bit his tongue though having a feeling she wouldn’t allow him to do this.

This seemed a bit more personal to her judging by the look of sympathy he’d spotted in her eyes earlier.

He stared up at the night sky being sure to keep the flashlight on her task. He spoke searching for anything to talk about. “Stars are at least nice out ere. Not nough street lights to fuck it up.”

She cleared her throat a little surprised by the choice in conversation. It seemed so casual after what had happened just a few hours ago. “Yeah, it’s nice.”

He spoke again searching for more to say. “Don’ have em like this back home.”

“Home?” She asked her curiosity peaking despite the voice that screeched at her not to get involved.

“Aye, in Glasgow…Belfast too…too many fuckin people in the city at least…too many lights. Out in the countryside though, that was some real stars, put these to shame.” He replied a small dreamy tone crossing his voice as he recalled the countryside.

“You’ve lived in both Scotland and Ireland?” She questioned. She was relieved that the conversation provided some distraction from her dread filled brain. She had to admit she was curious about how the Scotsman came to reside here of all places even if it was just related to his involvement with the Sons.

She was comforted to have something else to focus on other than the fact that the new leaf she’d turned seemed to be dead.

He spoke nodding his head. “Aye, born and raised in Glasgow, moved to Belfast when I was sixteen.”

“You’re a long way from there.” She remarked, cringing at the comment knowing the move most likely had something to do with the criminal element surrounding the man she was speaking with. It probably wasn’t wise to bring it up.

Chibs felt his heart twist the same way it often then when he was reminded of what had forced him from Belfast in the end. “Aye…it was an adjustment…The states aint all that bad…even became a citizen a few years back…figured it was easier than maintainin’ a work visa.”

She nodded her head not entirely familiar with immigration laws or how citizenship worked. It wasn’t something she’d really experienced.

She spoke as he continued to dig. “The furthest I’ve been is New York. I moved there for mortuary school…lived there for a while. Never left the United States though. I have always wanted to, but dead people don’t tend to care about vacation plans and travels not in my budget most of the time.”

She felt her stomach turn at the mention of her budget considering she’d just been paid twice to do some questionable things by the associates of the man she was speaking with so casually.

She spoke again, shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe someday. I wouldn’t mind seeing the stars you’re praising.”

“Aye, ya won’t regret it.” Chibs was fast to reply, a small smile crossing his features relieved the conversation seemed to be flowing so easily.

For someone who had given SAMCRO nothing but sass, there seemed to be something kind of sweet and lovely about this conversation they were having one on one. He wouldn’t mind experiencing more of it.

She spoke again, satisfied with the depth of the hole she’d dug. “This should work. I think I got it wide and deep enough.”

Chibs felt a small sense of disappointment wash over him at the realization that he was about to no longer have an excuse to be near her.

He hid his disappointment as she placed the plastic baggie containing the cremains down in the hole working quickly to cover it.

He parted his lips wanting to say more to her, wanting to say anything to keep her here by his side.

He felt the words die on his lips as she stood up wiping the dirt from her jeans. She spoke, taking the flashlight from him. She was thankful it was dark enough that he didn’t notice her cheeks flush as her fingers brushed against his. “Thank you for holding it.”

He took notice of the softness of her hands. He had to wonder just what other parts of her were soft. “Aye, glad ta help.”

She spoke, taking a deep breath, a bit of the weight of shame she’d felt lifting just the slightest. She knew the small act of giving the remains a final resting place wouldn’t make up for the two bodies she’d given SAMCRO, but at least she might be able to feel that she wasn’t entirely a terrible person. “Thank you for…watching over me and keeping me company.”

“Aye, anytime lass.” He replied, causing her to let out a small laugh though this one didn’t sound as humorless as the laugh she’d given Jax earlier.

“No offense, but I hope it isn’t anytime. I don’t mind talking with you, but I’d prefer the next time to not be while I’m burying remains I illegally cremated.”

He smirked both at the comment and the implication she might enjoy talking with him.

He was fast to bring it up. “Aye, so ya like talkin to me?”

She let out a huff rolling her eyes though she didn’t stop the small smile from crossing her lips her cheeks flushing darker. “Shut up.”

He smirked, satisfied that she didn’t have a more clever comeback.

She spoke again, shaking her head. “I’ll see you around…uh?”

He furrowed his brow, it hitting him; they'd never been entirely properly introduced.

He was surprised by the words that left him not choosing the club nickname he’d long gone by but his legal first name. “Filip.”

She nodded her head. “Goodnight, Filip.”

He spoke as he watched her step forward intending on parting ways. “Aye, goodnigh lass. I’ll see ya around.”

#chibs telford #chibs sons of anarchy #chibs telford fanfiction #chibs #soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy fanfiction #Chibs Telford x reader #chibs telfordxreader

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aseaofyoongi · 2 years ago

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a years interlude | kth

kth x reader (f)

genre: 19th century; one-shot

rating: mature audiences only (18+)

summary: a story of pain, healing, love, and the yearning of the heart.

warnings: slight mention of blood; non-descriptive (brief) mention of dead fetus (lost baby at birth); memory loss; slight fluff; penetrative sex; cunnilingus; clitorial stimulation; nipple play; hand job; taehyung looking like a 19th century prince in his photofolio; if non-19th century things are mentioned i am so sorry, i tried to do as much research as possible but so many personal things went down while I was writing this that research was slim.

word count: 10,9 thousand words

posted: friday january 6, 2023

The Levate was your home. It had been assigned as your unruly fate far before you were even a fetus in your mother’s womb.

It was your destiny.

The tale commenced about two-hundred years prior, with your great grandmother. She was a mere lass—young, beautiful and most importantly educated girl. It was a rarity for its time. Initially, the men in her family, your family, were destined healers but your great grandmother’s father's bloodline was referred to as fragile and it was ‘cursed’ with just daughters.

One after another after another.

A couple of years passed before the men of the village realized that their people would only benefit in allowing the women of your family to become a part of the legacy and aid those in need. . Especially, the wives of the select few who were in need of assistance during childbirth, word had it women were growing uncomfortable in being presented with male assistance while they carried their babies for nearly nine months and then having inexperienced servants assisting during deliveries— numerous women left to neighboring villages which implemented the requirement of having qualified female only aids during their pregnancies and in their labor confinements.

After a rather hefty consensus the people of the town spoke and your family was granted their titles as former healers and reputable midwives.

Upon shadowing her nearly retired father and the accoucheuse from neighboring villages, your great grandmother learned the complexity of your modern medicament rapidly. She was very astute, stretching as far as the barriers of your society allowed her to reach. Truth was despite everything she was still a woman and was only allowed a speck of liberty—and one single mistake sent her down a bridle pathway of damnation for an eternity and her grave would be dug up by the Kim family.

The Kim’s were the most powerful family in the village, simulating the most vicious predators at the peak of the food chain. They were pythons while the rest of you were rodents. Their formidable force stemmed from their affluence leading them to soar like eagles in the expansive sky, high beyond the passing clouds—they were as close to royals as Hawkshead could attain.

Your great grandmother had been called on by Viscountess Kim to service in the delivery of what would be their fifth child. They were hoping for a male to supply as an eventual successor after being consecutively burdened by a string of daughters. The task was seemingly simple as she already had a hefty resume in delivering babies day in and day out but this particular delivery was. . arduous. The pressure was immense, she knew there was little room for error, and despite the dozen pound weight dragging from her shoulder, she graced her mind with confidence; the assurance of her skills and began her duty as a midwife.

Things began as usual, the dimly lit birth chamber was crowded by servants as they serviced Viscountess Kim any and all of her absurd requests ranging from kneading her feet beyond comfort to fetching her intricate suppers that could only be found a whole town away. The room was aromatized with the soft scents of chamomile, her remedy for easing the nerves. That was all she could provide but of course, medicine then, wasn’t what it is now.

Her duty was to sit and wait. And then sit and wait some more—until baby Kim has decided it was finally time to meet the world.

From her place at the delivery stool her eyes roamed across the unblemished midnight sky. There were innumerable stars prancing around the black vastness accompanying the moon as they danced a soft tango together. Nights were serene; peaceful and she always found herself enthralled in it. The twinkling seams of the stars were dazzling yet there was no way she could look away. Initially, there was a brief silence amongst the emergent storm sweeping across the dormitory, she recalled screaming; frantic screams. In the beginning they were muffled, so far away, for a brief second she had thought Lord Kim was chopping off someone's head down the corridor—except, it wasn’t.

Lady Kim was beginning to hyperventilate, she broke out in sweats, and the lady maids were flailing their arms in the air calling your attention, their attempt at getting her to snap out of her trance.

“We need help,” she’d heard from one of the many nameless figures accompanying the Viscountess.

“Just give me some space,” she abandoned her spot near the window now sitting at the foot of the bed, “fetch me more linens.”

She was heaving, trembling, gasping for air and her screams could likely be heard by the Levate. Her forehead glistened, “I need him out of me,” her breathing was heavy, “I need him out.”

There was a cold bead of sweat rolling down her back but she remained in her position waiting for baby Kim, (hopefully, a boy), to greet you with bright chocolate eyes and raucous cries. You instructed her to push, and she complied. Again, you communicated the same and she did as told. She pushed harder and harder, until the fetal head crowned.

She almost sighed with relief.

Almost.

But the room was eerily still.

Baby Kim, the baby boy, was now in her hands but he was not weeping—his eyes were closed, and his skin was a shade of periwinkle.

He was not breathing.

“How is my baby?” Lady Kim asked.

But she stood, completely still, the tiny body of what was supposed to be a healthy scion laid in her arms, unmoving.

“How is he?” She asked once again.

Your great grandmother’s skin glimmered in the dim candle light as the sweat trickled down her forehead. She quickly walked the boy to the baby bassinet and laid him down.

“Is he OK?” her pleas to know rumbled in the inner walls of your ears, and all you could do was rummage through your brain for an answer on what to do—this had never happened before. She’d always delivered healthy babies, always.

How could this happen? She had not pulled too hard, the mother seemed in good health. . What evil lurked in the shadows to drag this baby away from its mother before she even has the chance to hold him in her arms?

Lady Kim sat up on her elbows—her eyes were mimicking the sparkle of shining glass, she was shaking with anxiousness; fear.

“The baby-”she stammered, “h-he’s”

Words failed her. Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth and no matter how she tried to structure the news, sentences did not come easy to her.

“He’s what?” the Viscountess yelled, her voice vibrating through the walls like a high pitched sound wave, “how is my baby boy?”

“Baby Kim has passed on, Lady Kim. My sincerest apologies,” She bowed as her voice cracked delivering the unfortunate news.

The viscountess’ wails were inconsolable, they were haunting and your great grandmother couldn’t help but hang her head in shame. Everything her father taught her was flushed down the drain, her career as a healer was compromised and her life was not guaranteed at the sake of her failure.

All her certainties hung by a single thread and her freedom disintegrated when a lock and chain adorned her wrists and soon as Viscount Kim heard of the unfortunate events surrounding the birth and death of his only son. He—they blamed her for the entire thing, despite her best interest always being the delivery of a healthy boy. They did not listen to her, instead they ostracized her and held a trial to supply her culpability. Her charges included, ‘conspiring against the noble Kim.’

You closed her journal up and slouched on your rickety rocking chair, swinging back and forth lightly.

That was all written by her.

She wrote it as an autobiography for the following generations to understand—it was a reminder of the story you didn’t need to read because you knew it by heart; you lived it; you simulated her pain.

After the verdict was delivered by the counsel, composed of those hand selected by the Kim family, for the proceedings of an unjust trial. They were ready to send your great grandmother to be executed. Hastily, they came to the realization that our family were the only healers in Hawkshead and the nearest family of honorable medicinal knowledge settled days away from our village, so instead of ending her life. . They decided to sentence her and the women to follow to be banished, and sent her on exile to the Levate.

So they walked her to the outskirts nearing the barrier of the viridescent enchanted forrest—she was to reside there and if her knowledge was ever requested they would seek out for her, but that was not her only duty, she was to assist all men injured in the Levate and guide them out the barrier in the direction of the village.

It was the punishment of imprisonment without the shackles, but at least in a cell you had cell mates, guards, people around you—there was nothing but emerald pasture and brobdingnagian trees for miles into the dense forest.

Her husband and son stayed behind in Hawkshead and they continued the legacy of male healers while the women in our family were condemned by her mistake. We were sent to fend for ourselves in the estranged surroundings of the Levate as soon as it was decided by the Kim counsel. A lot of them wed and snuck their husbands in and out of the forest but it wasn't in your intention to subject a man through the complications of the barrier but specially you did not plan to contribute a child into the damnation of this curse. Your predestined beginning and end was as it was, your inevitable demise. There was nothing you could do about it but your principles—your conscience wouldn’t allow you to drag someone else to be a subject of this morbid ordeal and while residing in the Levate was out of your reach; celibacy was the only aspect of your life you had control over.

It’s been a continuity of the same thing, day after day, the same sky up above, the same redundant emerald leaves on the same golden tree branches.

Everything was the same.

It was revolting and it sent you on a spiral of drumming headaches, the same four walls in this same cabin, and the same scenery outdoors.

Five years down, an eternity to go.

An eternity. Seems like ages away but our perception of forever is but mere speck in our reality because to the people out there—living, laughing, loving, life is dazed and comes and goes in the blink of an eye but within the barriers, behind the unchanged days and the repetitious routine your eternity has exceeded the five years you’d been in here and it seemed roads away from where you stood in that moment.

Though you were promised occasional outings of aid, not a single person back in the village has requested your healing abilities for months now and no one ever stumbles past the barriers unless absolutely necessary. You were completely alone, left to rot in abandonment—the Kim counsel knew that but you were certain the infliction of isolation was their specialty for torture.

Nightfall approached quicker than expected that day but you supposed it was the repercussions of being cocooned behind your probing thoughts for a clock’s worth. After dining and changing into your nightgown, you found yourself laying down on the creaky bedstead, you kept your window open becoming astounded by the luminosity of the night sky. The pale crescent moon shone like a bright pearl, and the blanket of winking stars stretched to infinity. Their soft glint mimicked the flickering candle light of your neighbors back at the village, and for a single moment. . you weren’t forgotten, they were just a door away keeping you company until you were finally able to drift off into a deep slumber.

“There’s word in town about the death of the Lord Kim,” There were two girls walking by the southeastern border of the Levate, close to where you currently kneeled picking berries.

Although you could not see their faces, the youth and naivety in their tone was indication enough that they were young, far too young to acknowledge the gravity of their claims.

Being in seclusion was a dead man’s curse because despite the exigency of claims floating around the forest’ border you could never truly confirm its legitimacy.

One of the girls hushed the other, and they began their soft whispers but you could still hear. They were to keep away from the barrier, you should’ve probably warned them but their gossip was far more interesting.

“How could you even know of this?” one of the girls questioned, you didn’t dare peek out from your place behind the bushes to see who they were. . just listened, “what business have you in the Kim estate?”

“For starters, they called on that knowledgeable nurse from Lockwick and the lady maids have been spreading word around town.”

“I suppose you’re right but how could we be certain? They all hide so discreetly behind those golden gates.”

“Process of elimination obviously,” —you’d admit this is the most intel you have eavesdropped on in the last one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days. They continued, “The Kim daughters are all married off, their son is off on a voyage and Lady Kim was seen in town just two days ago. Who is the only person we have failed to see for weeks?”

“I suppose you’re right,” she continued in a whispering voice, “that still is no proof of his passing. I think we should wait and keep this to ourselves if we don’t want to end up like that girl who was banished there.” They were probably pointing into the Levate and were certainly referring to you.

Is that all you were in the village? A fable? A tactic to scare kids into respecting their elders? Did anyone even know what happened?

You sat on the soil which likely stained your blush pink skirt—you couldn’t bring yourself to care however.

‘like that girl’

‘that girl’

The words bounced in your head, their kinetic force dented the delicate walls of your brain. You just played their predicament over and over in a continuous loop. You were alive, breathing but you were as good as dead.

Noone remembered you or your name or what you stood for. Noone knew who you were anymore. You felt like an ant on a planet of giants—so insignificant and useless.

Your only consultation lay beside Lord Kim, in his deathbed if he was even dead. Your hope is rooted, that with his passing, the abolishment of the previous ancient laws and regulations would be mandated. This could be the opportunity to get out of here for good, to leave Hawkshead and live for yourself. You had never wished for the cessation of anyone before but you sure hoped there was a stone with his name engraved on it somewhere, especially after the hand he’s dealt in the suffrage of the women in your family, especially after he held onto the grudge of his ancestors as if they were his own.

Your brain was still frazzled by the rumors of the young girls, still, you attempted to map out who the following Viscount would be to serve as a successor. You doubt any of their daughters would come back, they are all married into wealth far richer than the Kim’s could even dream of. There was their eldest son who was off on a voyage and no one had seen sight of him for the last 11 years. No one knew exactly who he was anymore or what he looked like for that matter.

If speculation was right and Lord Kim has passed—their mysterious son should be coming into town. Perhaps, you could try and arrange a meeting with him, and argue your case.

You could be free.

At last there was hope. The possibility of a future you actually had the chance of living.

You skipped the rest of the way to the cabin. Your feet felt lighter against the verdure path—a buoyant spark coursed through your blood stream, the current sent you floating in mid-air. Intoxicated off ecstasy at the mere grasp of the potential freedom you so desperately craved.

You stood near the barrier.

You were still in the Levate but there was a shift in the surroundings you were so accustomed to. Your initial thought was to run once and for all but your thoughts kept you grounded right where you stood.

Of course, you’ve thought about escaping but if the journals had taught you anything it was that running away would only lead to your demise.

All of your ancestors who disappeared. . turned up in a wooden box days after. You supposed freedom in the afterlife was much better than no freedom at all but you craved living and besides you couldn’t give the Kim’s the satisfaction of seeing you crumble.

You couldn’t.

You breathed slowly as the figure on the other side stood facing you. Its face was blurred and the usual lines outlining one's eyes, nose and lips were consumed by irrefutable darkness.

“Who are you?” You yelled out. . No response, “what are you doing so near the barrier?”

It held its hand out—palm stretched out reaching for you; calling out for you.

“I cannot leave unless called for medical assistance purposes,” you stepped closer to the barrier. . definitely digging into treacherous territories, “this is my home.” The words tasted so sour on your tongue, because although you were forced into the Levate it certainly wasn’t a home.

It remained in the same position, you knew you should’ve been petrified but his demeanor was inviting, it called out to you. His vocal vibrations perforated right through the barrier and enchanted the soles of your feet leading you to inch closer and closer to it.

“I can’t. .” you mouthed.

You looked back into the thicket there was nothing left for you here.

One step closer.

The bottomless feeling of loneliness vanished and was replaced with optimism. You shouldn’t wait to go far away.

“I shouldn’t. .” you mumbled.

“Come to me,” you heard, the voice was monotone, displaying no real sense of emotion, “we must make haste.”

“No. . no. .” Your objections convinced no one at all, not even yourself—but your eyes were closed and you shook your head vigorously, “No. .” you chanted over and over.

The voice which was once louder than yours, sounded farther and farther away, its words became muffled and disintegrating in your head. Suddenly, there was a shift and his pleas to have you disobey the rules set upon your life became cries for help.

“Help,” it repeated once over.

“Shut up.” You screamed, finally opening your eyes, there was nothing but darkness. . and you were laying in bed.

You were just dreaming.

You sighed, relieved to learn that you were not on the brink of insanity. . a little deprived of formal human interaction but you weren’t entirely a lost cause yet. Perhaps, the whole thing was rooted from the lone thread which remained intact, the same one which was to eventually lead you right out of the Levate, if the Kim son was as merciful as he was rumored to be in the village back when you were younger.

You sat up on your bed, a cold bead of sweat traveled along your temples and once again you found yourself in solace within the night sky. It was peaceful, as usual, but you couldn’t help but wonder how far the sky stretched. Was there such a place on earth where the heavens met its end? A place where you could climb up the stars as you would a ladder and swim amongst them forever.

There was a whimper, initially, it was faint and you thought it came from a traveler on the pathway near the barrier. But the whines became louder and louder and they were followed with soft cries for help. Unfamiliar, to the one in your dream this voice sputtered much more emotion, whoever it belonged to, surely they were hurt.

You slid on your slippers and made kitten strides towards the front door of the cabin.

“Is there anyone here?”

You grabbed onto the door handle, before stopping for just a second to take a deep breath. After grabbing the lit up lantern from the nearby countertop you made your way out of the house.

“Where are you?” you called out once stepping off the last wooden staircase.

Realistically speaking, you were aware you should’ve armed yourself with a kitchen knife for protection—but you were steered by adrenaline almost; shaken with the possibility of your first patient in five years. Guzzled, with the idea of the presence of another human being on the premises.

“I’m on the left side of your lovely home.”

“Lovely. .” You scoffed, more like hell.

When you finally reached him, he was crushing your rose bush as he remained sprawled out on the ground.

“Are you in need of some assistance, sir?” You asked in the utmost innocent voice.

“Uh,” He groaned, “Yes. . yes please.”

“How did you end up past the barrier?”

“I came. .” he scratched the back of his head, his voice you noticed was grave, much lower than you could remember any man sounding like back in Hawkshead. It was soothing, and felt just as it does when the sun hits your skin on a hot summer day, “I can’t actually remember..”

“The barriers have that effect on people, especially those who were not cursed to be in here.”

“Cursed?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll explain soon. How about I help you up and we can chat inside. I’m getting a bit cold out here.” You stretched for him to grab, he did, and you quickly led him to the safety of your home. You sat him on one of the dining room chairs and pulled the second one for you right beside him.

“Welcome to the Levate,” you placed the lantern on the table. The swaying of the candle’s flame reflected on his perfect fucking face.

Actually, was there anything more passionate than the word perfect? because if there was, it would still not be enough to describe the beauty of the man you’d just housed.

“The Levate.” He repeated, his expresso eyes glimmered under the flickering flame, they sparkled like the hundreds of bright friends you had found in the dead of night every dawn.

“Yes,” after washing your hands and gathering a bottle of whiskey, cloth bandages, tweezers, and a cold compress for his head you took a seat beside him

“Is this forest part of the village up ahead?”

“You remember Hawkshead?”

“Is that the village?”

You hummed.

“Vaguely.”

You placed the cotton cloth with ice against the bump on this forehead, “Is it ok if we remove this sleeve of your shirt?” You pointed at the bloodstained sleeve with the scattered holes which were likely a result of the thorns dug into his arm from your roses. He nodded, “does it hurt?”

He shook his head, “not really.”

“Can you remember your name?” You asked, slowly removing the shirt as to avoid more injury.

“Tae,” he winced. “All I remember is being called Tae.”

“Ok, Tae. .” you began, “This is going to pinch just a bit but you let me know if you want me to stop.”

Tae nodded. His arm had seven thorns adorning his honey-toned skin. “Do you remember anything about your family?”

“Not really,” You pulled out the first thorn and he winced, just six more to go, “I remember I have a mother and like 5 sisters but their names are blank. Is this normal here. . In the Levate?”

“Yes,” you pulled out two more, “It is. To on goers the Levate is a pause in time. This is the forest of abandonment—while in here your mind is on pause and all your memories are tampered by the forces casted upon the ambience.”

“So when I leave—”

“I have never had the liberty to leave but I believe I’ll be but a faint memory.”

“Are you stuck here?” You pulled out the remaining with little to no reaction from him.

You nodded. A faint smile was pressed upon your lips.

“I suppose I am.” After grabbing the whiskey and pouring some into a cloth you began dabing his wounds to prevent infection. His gaze was on you like a spell and while you tried to remain focused you couldn’t help the stutter in your movements as you began wrapping his arm up.

“What does that mean?”

“My great great grandmother made a very wealthy family in the village angry and ever since then the healing female descendents have been casted to an eternity of damnation here in the Levate. This is our home for the rest of our lives.” You looked right into his gleaming orbs in an attempt to hide the melancholiness in yours, his were soft; soulful; and you could easily map out the entire galaxy in them.

“Have you ever tried to just up and leave?”

“Others have tried but it didn't quite work out.”

“These people really hold onto grudges don’t they,” he shook his head.

“I guess it’s human nature.”

“What’s yours?” You stood to discard the supplies you had used to assist him. The ill-lit cabin was the worst reminder of what your human nature was; the Levate was too; your lineage; you were.

“To be alone.”

“And you believe that?”

“Doesn’t really matter what I believe because it is as it is. There’s nothing to change now and the only person who can is on voyages nowhere to be found.” Saying it out loud was unsparing—every time those hopeless words met your tympanum it added to the deeply rooted sentiment of wanting out, of searching for a better tomorrow.

“Who can?”

“Their son.”

“And he’s gone?”

You shrugged, “not dead just away from Hawkshead.”

He slouched back on the chair, lips spread widely in a yawn, his toned chest was exposed under the two torn buttons on his white top—he looked exhausted.

“Well this is the only home in the Levate but you are more than welcome to stay over as long as you like.” You offered.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, my tiny prison is your tiny prison.” You smiled.

“I love the decorative statements you’ve made here,” he unhurriedly scanned the cabin’s walls, taking it all in inch by inch, “especially this unique wall paper.”

“It’s sun dried flowers. . they were all dead.”

“Well they certainly bring life to the place.”

“Thanks.”

His smile was wide, so luminous it lit up the pathway back to the village even from here. “And where shall I divulge in my slumber? I require a lot of commodities, you know.”

“Of course, will a sleeping bag or a duvet do?”

“Duvet sounds lovely.”

“I’ll fetch that for you.”

Mornings were always your favorite time of the day. You awoke, read a few pages from your ancestors journals or medical books, prepared a pot of tea and fetched the daily nutritional offerings left for you by those in the village. It was a routine, one you have grown accustomed to, and embraced dearly because it reminded you that despite being shunned away you were still here. Alive. Breathing.

You rubbed sleep off your eyes and sat up on the bed.

“Good morning,” the voice was invasive and although you knew Tae was here, you just weren’t used to having anyone around.

“Good morning to you.” you reciprocated, “you seem to be doing well this morning.”

“It was but a couple of scratches.” His back was still turned to you as he scrambled around on top of the stove, “I’m much better. I really hope you weren’t expecting me off this early.”

“Honestly, I thought you would’ve ran out of here as soon as the sun emerged.”

“Why is that?”

“A lot of men flee from the burden of not knowing. Actually, no. . Nobody has ever stumbled amongst my gardens before. I assume they would all run for the hills.”

“Assumptions are not facts.” Tae handed you a piece of bread and a small cup of coffee, “I hope you do not mind me staying just for a bit though.”

“That is fine with me.” You deliver softly. The only burden weighing on your shoulders was getting used to being around Tae and then having to watch him cross that barrier to his regular life back in the village without the faintest memory of you.

“Are you alright?” He asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed.

You nodded, “I’m alright.”

“So. .” he rubbed his hands on his slacks, “What’s on the itinerary for the day?”

“Not much actually,” you laughed as you were reeled back into your pathetic life, “there are very few things to do in here.”

Tae smiled so tenderly it felt as if you were floating on water—as if you were being swayed aimlessly on a body of water. Allowing the curvatures of his mouth to direct you as they pleased. It felt so refreshing having someone smile at you that way. You couldn’t quite get enough of it.

“Anything in particular you need to get done?”

“I need to go wash my clothes in the river.”

“I’ll come along.”

Upon making it to the river you landed at the usual spot on the river bank where a couple of boulders sat. You placed your basket on the ground and reached for the first item before smearing soap on it to slap, twist and rub the clothes against the rock.

You repeated the same for everything you brought over which was not necessarily a whole lot but you felt the need to distract yourself from being so indulged in Tae’s presence.

“So what are you going to do to arrange a meeting with this wealthy person to get you out of here?” He laid on the grass, his head touched your calf slightly and you swore you could feel the small sparks beginning to ignite as his dark hair tickled your skin.

“First, I have to see if he’s back in town.”

“And how would we know?”

You shrugged, “They’re pretty well known so I’m hoping word gets around and somehow makes it back to me.”

“That’s an absurd plan.” His protests were right but you really had no way of arranging for things to be executed in a better way.

“Well, Tae, that is the best I could come up with. There’s no other way.”

“Are you even being watched here?” He asked.

“I walked the perimeter of the Levate previously but I didn’t see anyone guarding it but all my previous ancestors who have attempted an escape have been killed shortly after leaving.” You twisted the cloth a bit harder against the hard surface.

“So they’re not caught leaving but instead on the road out of the village. I’m guessing they’ve been unlucky enough to encounter people who honor that wicked family.” Tae continued, “how many have tried to escape?”

“Two.”

“One’s a coincidence but I believe in a situation like this two might be intentional. I’m not sure I remember but there might be guards watching movement in and out of the village”

“Seems like it. . but I do not plan an escape. I wanna leave out of here honorably and to break this stupid curse once and for all. It needs to end with me.” You rubbed harsher and harsher.

“I promise I will remember you. I’ll help you get out of here,” he sat up and guided your chin towards him—your eyes met his once again. They were dark this time, almost black and you could tell he actually meant the words he said and even though you did not quite believe he had a say in remembering anything upon crossing the barrier you smiled either way. He believed in you and your hopes of getting out and that’s all that mattered.

“I’ll hold you to that.” You laughed playfully.

“You won’t have to wait long.” He held your hand and his thumb rubbed circles on your wrist, “I promise.”

Promise. The density of the word was far too great and while you wanted to believe Tae’s dulcet words, you knew that even if unintentionally he would forget about your existence the moment he left.

His heart was in the right place but you could not get your hopes up on empty promises.

You just had to find the Kim son.

“It’s really no trouble. I don’t want you knocking door to door back at the village asking about the girl living in the woods.”

“I’ll do it if I have to. You are not your ancestors’ mistakes. You deserve a chance at a life to live.” His touch was still soothing against you, it mimicked the softness of silk and you could maintain your fingers intertwined for an eternity. Funny enough in this situation an eternity did not seem long enough to have Tae holding you as he was.

“I’ll be here.” There was a flutter in your heart—something you’ve never felt before, “I would ask about you but your memory is impaired at the moment.”

“Yeah,” He scoffed, “I’m hoping I’m an only child and hopefully a succeeding prince.”

“A prince would never set foot in Hawkshead.”

“Perhaps I was in search of my princess.”

“In Hawkshead?” you shook your head, “again. . unrealistic.”

“Not entirely.” He laid back on the grass and closed his eyes, “It is no secret how desperate princes tend to be.”

“So now you are desperate?”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged.

“Perhaps—” you reiterated, “and what exactly is his desperateness dependent on?”

“The lady I would be searching for I guess.”

“I’m sure there are countless potential maidens to choose from back in Hawkshead.”

“Hawkshead?” He chuckled amusingly.

“Well, yes, that was your intentional destination. Was it not?” A breeze swept swiftly easing the haze raging in your head as a result of Tae’s words and the scorching mid-summer sun.

“Intentional?” he shrugged, “Sure. But I believe I ended up right where I needed to be.”

“You believe so?” You hummed.

“I know so.” Tae was confident and the certitude behind his words sent a shiver down your spinal cord—just twenty four hours with him and your heart began to pounce at your chest whenever his voice graced your ears. Your movements slowed and you felt breathless as if his being alone sucked the air right out of your lungs.

“The implications of this place are less than ideal don’t you think?” you resonated.

“You have lived it darling. Is the Levate substandard?”

“It is like a prison chamber,” you scrubbed the top in your hands so hard it felt like you were grating your palm on the boulder.

“Do you not believe yourself to be free?”

“I live the same days over and over again, Tae. There is no freedom within these borders.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

His being was alluring like one of those paintings your father kept in his study back home. The soft strokes of the emerald grass complimented the honey tone Tae seemed to have adopted for the duration of summer. Elegance augmented his features from his dark locks, to the soft smile curved at his face, to his attire.

He belonged in an art gallery.

He cleared his throat, “can I ask something?”

“Sure.”

“Is your love already promised to someone else once you leave this place?”

“No.” One word responses were not usually your forte but Taehyung’s question was rather surprising, although coming from the peak of his curiosity you expected nothing less, “why is that inquiry living in your head?”

“I wanted to decipher whether I would ever have a chance with you.”

“Perhaps, if it is written in the stars, we could meet back in Hawkshead and during courtship we could attend the balls in each other’ arms.”

“The balls are pretentious and congested with chaotic gestures of desperate daughters. . I want no distraction in my attempt to romance you,” he was a sweet talker, you had noticed, swatting the butterflies in your stomach was useless — you could already feel yourself colliding against him.

“In society we would not be granted the privacy you require. .” you shook your head, “do you want a forced marriage at the cost of your hands accidentally touching mine?”

“Not forced. . My willingness is voluntary.”

“You live inside the fantasy brick walls of your creative mind..”

“Are you saying you would mind?”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Good. Now push over,” He kneeled beside you making your elbows grace each other ever so slightly. You weren’t sure if he did it on purpose or if he even felt what you did but your feet levitated into the stratosphere. His touch even unintentionally swept you right off your feet, “allow me to give you a hand.”

It’s been three days since Tae stumbled upon your rose bushes and sadly it was his last night here in the Levate. He was to cross the barrier early morning and embark on his quest to help you out of here. . if he even remembered.

You really hoped he did but there was no certainty and that very detail would gnaw at your anxiousness until you were given the chance to be face to face with him once again.

“What are you so deep in your head about?” Tae asked from his position on the floor.

“Many things.”

“What? Will you miss me?” He joked.

Yes. You wanted to shout out but you didn’t.

“Not one bit.”

“I don’t believe you,” you were sure there was probably a smug expression plastered on his face but you were too busy glancing out the window to verify, “your days were graced by my charm.”

“So narcissistic,” you heard him gasp, “perhaps you are a descendent of royals after all.”

“It is in my bloodstream.”

An ear-splitting silence fell between the two of you. You realized even just his company sufficed to provide you with warmth and comfort you needed.

“Have you ever tried to count how many stars look over us every night?” The vibrato of his whispered; grave utters bounced right off of the oak walls.

“That would be impossible.” The luminous points invaded the night sky as they did every other night. They were your faithful companions.

“Not at all,” slumber was catching up to him. You could hear it in the stammering, “every night as we lay under the same sky, let’s both count the stars until we finally get to reunite once more.”

“How would we know we are watching them at the same exact time?”

“Just trust your heart.”

“I know it’s selfish. .” you began, “but I wish you could stay for a bit longer.”

Tae did not respond, not vocally anyway. Instead, he turned in the direction of your bed from his place on the floor. His expression was tender, his cheeks were impaled by dimbles.

You would miss his company, and his eyes, and his smile, and the unspoken intimacy you felt dancing between the two of you. You wondered if he felt it as intensely as you did even in such a short time? You wouldn’t dare ask—but your heart was convinced he did, while your head remained on his departure the following morning. No matter how many times he promised, you were aware you would be a granule of sugar in a short three days of his abundant existence, one he would not be able to remember the moment he walked out on the other side.

You wanted to kiss him so badly. His lips were so inviting. . It would be your perfect departure from him.

But there was no use if he would not be able to recall any of it once he crossed over.

“I would stay with you forever,” he murmured.

You opened your eyes abruptly—but he was already fast asleep. Surely, you’d imagined it.

Surely.

“Lord Kim,” a voice sounded through the other side of the door, “are you decent?”

He hummed back groggily and almost immediately his doubled doors were pushed open. The Butler of the Kim estate, Hoseok, invaded his dormitory.

“I told you since I have come back, Hoseok,” he yawned, “you are more than welcome to refer to me as Taehyung.”

“Of course Sir,” he stumbled, “I mean, Taehyung.”

Taehyung sat up on the canopy bed surrounded by fine silk sheets. Ever since he was able to make it home after being missing, life in the Kim estate seemed like so much for just one person. It all did. This bed, his room, his new title as Viscount Kim ever since his father passed away twelve months prior.

Before making it to Hawkshead, Taehyung had gone missing for a period of three entire days, and although his mother had kept this information from him at the time, he managed to obtain the location from where he was found by staff in the manor after his mother passed just nine months ago.

They told him he had been laying down near the northern border of the Levate forest geared towards the entrance of the village.

Back then, he was coming back home to assist his mother with the funerary ceremony for his father—but after losing her as well just a few months after he was shackled to this place as he was officially the new and esteemed, Viscount Kim Taehyung III.

“I just wanted to announce that dinner would be served in about ten minutes, sir.” He did not make it a habit to correct Hoseok on the usage of anything but his name once again. For, he knew his father and ancestors before were rather stern with how they managed life around the home.

He knew his changes would take some getting used to.

“Would you like me to close the drapes, Sir?”

“No, Hoseok, they’re fine. I like to look at the night sky before falling fast asleep.”

“Very well, I’ll see downstairs in ten.” Hoseok walked towards the door and reached for the golden handle before opening it.

“Hoseok,” Taehyung called out, “the files that I requested a few days ago. Have they been fetched yet?”

“Yes sir, they’re bringing up the last of the few boxes and everything should be in the study right after dinner.”

“Thank you so much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok disappeared behind the mahogany door and Taehyung was left alone once again.

Just him and his thoughts.

And somehow they always brought him right back to those three days he couldn’t even precisely remember. The Levate was always known to be desolate; scary and unexplored. Those were the stories his parents always recounted as a warning for him to stay away but he could not help the feeling that there had been someone out there who took care of him.

But who could willingly reside in that creepy forest on the outskirts of the village?

Tae walked over to his bedroom window taking in the sights of the stars swimming amongst the late night sky. In the couple of minutes he stood by he counted hundreds of them. There was a sense of serenity in being able to witness their brightness, there was a bubbling urgency in him in wanting to assign a number to all of them, although it seemed impossible.

He would one day, though, and that was a promise he made to himself.

After scarcely getting through dinner as he did not have too much of an appetite, Taehyung invited Hoseok over to the study in an attempt to get through all of the documents he needed to before dawn.

Under the flickering flames of the candles around the room, Hoseok took the couch with one box while he sat in the leather chair behind your father’s desk with two more. The first few documents detailed finances, work affairs and where your father usually geared towards for business encounters. On the bottom of the first box there was a folder with a black stamp sealed in the top right corner, spelling the word, confidential in all capitals.

He quickly pulled out the folder and scattered the documents out in-front of him. It was a family tree with all of the female descendants circled in red ink for the last two-hundred years. There were two years listed under every single name, one for which they were banished and one for the date indicating they had passed away.

The most recent one showed the latest descent had been banished around six years prior.

Taehyung, flipped through a couple more pages in the document before landing on the agreement between the council, the Kim family and the first ancestor to have been banished.

Apparently, she had attempted to assist in the birth of a Kim ancestor hundreds of years ago who passed during the delivery and instead of public execution, they had sentenced her to banishment in the Levate. Although not stated in the original document they made a new regulation after her passing to imprison all the female descendants on her side of the family as a repercussion to avoid the death of any more babies in the village by the carelessness of their hands.

“This is absurd,” he hissed through gritted teeth, “come here, Hoseok. Did you know about this?”

Hoseok hovered over your shoulder as he began scanning the document, nodding slowly as if he wanted to lie instead but opting against it in the end.

“I found out when it was time for your father to banish the recent descendant six years ago,” he leaned on the dark walls of the room, “but your father wasn’t as understanding as you are. He threatened me and my family in exchange for my secrecy.”

“But he’s been gone for months, Hoseok.” Taehyung reasoned, he was mad that the butler had not brought it up at least once in the past few months, “You’ve had so many opportunities to bring it up to my attention.”

“I did not know many details, Sir,” his lips quivered and Taehyung could see the exasperation glooming over Hoseok, “All I know is the latest descendent was banished and only you have the power to bring it to the council for reconsideration as a Kim.”

Taehyung’s expression softened, “thank you for providing me with the details now. Would you please seek out the council and arrange for a meeting tomorrow afternoon?”

“Of course.”

“This is all for tonight. Please let me know of the meeting time and location come early morning. Good night, Hoseok.”

“Good night.”

The meeting was arranged in the Kim garden early afternoon and while you had discussed some pressing points the council held relating to your parents passing, it was time for you to bring your own concern to their attention.

Most of the original council has now been overtaken by an earlier generation for reasons similar to your own.

“Joon, I presume Hoseok mentioned the reason for the calling of today’s meeting.”

He nodded as he gobbled on yet another tea sandwich, “he provided a brief synopsis.”

Joon was the descendent of the original founder of the council and whatever he said went. He was far less serious and strict than his father was but Tae supposed they all were. None of them were their fathers.

“Why don’t you detail what you want to propose with a bit more clarity, Taehyung?” Yoongi cut-in as he noticed Namjoon was far too indulged in the delicacies table. Yoon was more of the straightforward kind of guy and had fought tirelessly to be kept out of the council but with the passing of his father he had no choice but to step in as the eldest Min son.

“This is regarding the descendants of the Levate. I wanted to propose an official release as the original document was altered after the first healer passed away.” you detailed, “it is not fair to continue the imprisonment of those women in that forest.”

“I agree,” Jimin cut-in. His family was known for being quite liberal and you figured the recorded vote against the sending of that woman to the Levate all of those years ago came from his ancestor.

“That’s 2-5, as I am obviously voting against keeping her there,” Tae said.

“I’m with them seems a bit cruel and unusual,” Seokjin conquered.

“Same.” Yoongi said.

He was the more traditional man of the bunch so it surprised you when Joon seemed to be the bearer of bad news.

“I also agree with your arguments but the only way out of banishment for the healer is marriage to a Kim descendent. It is stated in the original document that you should have read Tae.”

“Don’t ‘Tae’ me if you plan to enforce the rules of our beastly fathers.”

“I plan to do no such thing,” Joon quickly argued, “but we were sworn in to provide transparency to the people of Hawkshead. We are not royalty by any means but as founding families we do not and cannot sit above the mandates of those who came before us, for if we do, how can the people trust in us as the new replacing founders.”

“I’m afraid he’s right, Taehyung,” Seokjin was the voice of reason, “we cannot afford having the village against our judgments and decisions at this time.”

This is not what he originally planned for.

“With all due respect Tae,” Yoongi began, “How about we near the borders of the Levate and summon the descendent. From there we can propose the marriage proposal and see where she stands. If it is not an option for her she will unfortunately have to enter back into the Levate until we can seek a viable way to get her out.”

“It is settled, she does not need to be paying for reparations of an accident that took place years ago. Therefore, all in favor of the marriage proposition to lift banishment say I.” Joon was an honest man, and Taehyung was sure the pressures of being head of the founding council was a heavy-bearing occupation and though this wasn’t the conclusion he was hoping for—it was a start.

A wave of I’s circled around him.

He hesitated but ultimately caved as he saw no other way as of now, “I.”

Approaching the Levate was quite intimidating and it certainly did not help that Yoongi, Jimin, Seokjin and Namjoon had offered to accompany you on the trip to the initiation of a possible loveless marriage.

They stood near the carriage as he walked towards the barrier. The hairs on the back of his neck stood as a wind of familiarity immediately brushed past his face the closer he got.

Taehyung hoped this would not seem odd to you but he was trying his best to get you out of the Levate as soon as possible.

Taehyung saw her figure nearing the border of the green pasture and automatically noticed her smile beaming from ear to ear. She was as radiant as the flowers embedded in the wealthiest of gardens in the village, as dazzling as the sun and her aura was as familiar as the late-night stars he had begun conversing with ever since he made it back home earlier that year.

“Tae, you’re back,” her voice was silky and your name sounded like honey dripping from her lips, “you promised and now you’re back.”

He cleared your throat “I promised?”

“Sorry,” she began, “yes, some months ago you had stumbled into the Levate after being back from a voyage. After falling on my rose garden. I did a miniscule job of pulling out the thorns and you stayed about three days before heading off,” her recount of the events cleared the patches of missing information within your memory.

“Why can’t I remember any of that on my own?”

“The barrier of the Levate erases your memory as soon as you cross over,” her eyebrows were furrowed, “but if you cannot remember how come you are here?”

“My name is Kim Taehyung III, a descendent of the Hawshead founding families. After the recent passing of our fathers the replacement council made it our mission to overturn the cruel mandates set forth by our ancestors.”

“Yes, we discussed that while you were in here,” she said softly, “although, I did not know then that you were the person I needed to speak to.”

“Your case was the first to come to our attention, mine especially, as a Kim descendent. In the unofficial documents by the founders however there is a minor detail standing in the way of your immediate liberation.”

“What is the minor detail?”

“The only way of our banishment for your family is through marriage.” Taehyung said.

Her pupils were blown and her voice quivered, “who would I have to wed?”

“Me. Otherwise you would have to remain in the Levate until the council finds another way to get you out.”

The agreement of marriage came unexpectedly to you but in your time together she had recollections of only pleasant memories plus made you made him promise to drag you along on his explorations when he had to go off on voyages.

You craved to see the world.

Taehyung agreed and after the small wedding ceremony with the founding families bearing as witnesses. The two of you became husband and wife in the local church after your meeting a couple of days prior. Everything was geared on high speed and happened just a few weeks after your meeting with the proposition.

The two of you barely had any time to talk between the legality of documents and the preparations of the hurried marriage.

“Are we all alone?” you asked, flickering on the lights of the family room as you walked in the Kim estate.

“It is the beginning of the honeymoon traditions,” he informed, “the house is left vacant for the husband and wives and the next couple of days we get to ourselves before embarking on a voyage to visit extended family.”

“Is my family still around in Hawkshead?” you asked to take a seat on the couch, he followed sitting across from you.

“They live a boat ride over now but not far. They were granted leave by my father as the remaining siblings seemed to be brothers who were born just a couple of years ago.”

“I have brothers?”

“Twin brothers,” he confirmed, “we can go see them tomorrow if you would like.”

“Can we go later on in the week?”

“We shall go right before heading off to see mine early next week. How does that sound?”

“That sounds fine.”

He scratched the back of his head, “I forgot to thank you for your care back in the Levate. I am sorry I cannot remember anything about our time together.”

She shook her head, “it is not your fault my Lord. I was just happy I could assist, plus you made those three days the best of my time in the Levate.”

“You can just call me Taehyung if you would like.”

“Taehyung.” she repeated, “so it is true that the replacing founders are trying to implement structures of change to Hawkshead. They seem to be less austere and puritanical than their ancestors.”

He flashed a boxy smile in your direction, the one you missed so much over the past year, “I heard they are trying their hardest.”

“I am glad their compassion now graces the land,” you complimented, watching as his cheeks turned as red as the roses he had stumbled upon in your garden, “thank you Taehyung, for keeping your promise of getting me out of there.”

“No need to thank me. Unfortunately, my descendants were at fault for this entire ordeal. It is the least I could do.”

You gazed at the way his cherry lips were moisturized by his tongue. Perhaps, a nervous tic you had not quite picked up back in the Levate. Was he nervous? Replaying, the rather chaste kiss he left on your lips back at the altar and his clammy palms holding yours you deduced he was in fact nervous.

All you could ever think of however was his body heat in your proximity.

“It will forever be engraved in my heart that even after losing your memories of me after crossing the barrier, you still cared enough to get a stranger out of that situation,” you placed your hand on top of his.

“It was my basic duty after everything inflicted on your family all these years,” you noticed the change in his tone as he breathed out ruggedly, “please do not assume you owe me anything because of this. You do not.”

“I know you are a perfect gentleman, Taehyung but my heart beat for you the moment we met back in the Levate. What I feel is not forced or payment for your heroic antics,” his eyes remained on his lap and he seemed to be averting eye contact at all costs, “but that doesn’t mean you are forced to reciprocate something you cannot remember.”

“I cannot remember it,” he spoke barely above a whisper, “but I can feel the way my heart races when you come in my proximity. I felt it during our meeting. I feel it even now.”

The heat rose rapidly as you felt the way his eyes began mapping out your figure sprawled out on the couch. You figured it was a bit onerous though, as the wedding dress gifted to you wasn’t too flattering on your body. You made short strides towards him and stood in between his thighs, after unzipping the fabric you saw as it pooled at your feet exposing your inner-wear.

His carnal desires were reflective on the way his eyes scorched to a deep umber and his lower lip was blanketed under his teeth.

“Can I take you up to my suite?” The question sounded in your ears like a song being played delicately on the keys of pianos.

“Take me to your suite.”

Taehyung carried you bridal style sharing plenty of laughs at the countless trips and stumbles as he trotted up the stairs with you in his arms. You both finally made it to his massive sleeping chamber—it seemed a bit crazy how you were shoved into a tiny pocket of the Levate while Taehyung slept this lavishly every night.

You didn’t hold it against him but it was ironic how your worlds were destined to be so different and somehow clashed.

“Your house is so grand,” your eyes wandered through the different shades of blues adorning his room, “and to think you wanted to stay with me in the forest.”

“What?” he scoffed, “you do not see me as someone who can forage off the land?”

“You are far from the term, Kim Taehyung.”

“Assumptions are not facts,” he laid beside you on the bed and suddenly you were taken back to that morning in the Levate when he uttered those exact words.

“You have said those exact words to me before, you know.”

“My wisdom transcends the erasure of memories from a magical forest. You didn’t know?”

You giggled landing a soft punch on his elbow. “It seems I was not aware.”

“Now you are,” the tips of his fingers felt like waves of static shocks against your skin. He traced the outline of your chin, the nape of your neck, and collarbone before stopping where your cleavage began.

Your eyes were shut tightly as his cold touch continued exploring your searing body.

“Darling, are you sure you want to do this?”

“Taehyung, you have been the muse of my wildest dreams and the root of my deepest desires for the year following your leave,” you caressed his delicate cheeks with the back of your thumbs. He melted right into your touch, “I have longed for you and now I am finally here with you.”

“You waited for me?”

“Well realistically speaking,” you shrugged, “I had nowhere to go. My only option was to wait.”

He winked, “I will remember it my way.”

As a substitute to the small talk the both of you had engaged in to relieve some of the tension clinging to the air, you found yourselves leaning into each other at a leaden speed until finally your lips crashed into one another. His tender lips tasted of strawberries exactly as you imagined.

And the way his lips moved against yours was agonizingly mellow - and made you feel faint.

Who would have guessed being free could ever taste so sweet. . so fucking sweet.

The two of you were bare, crashing back into the ocean of his silk sheets. His wandering touch landed on your breast, while his kisses continued sweeping you off your feet. . his fingers focused on your nipple as he began rolling, pinching, and rubbing the sensitive bud.

“Taehyung. .” you breathed out.

“I’m just getting started,”

His pillowy lips trailed down your stomach leaving icy wet kisses on your skin leading you to succumb to the delicacy of his care. Your paradise you quickly realized was at the mercy of Taehyung’s ministrations.

The way he pecked your body so sweetly was intoxicating.

Just when you believed he reached his destination, he continued to travel lower and lower positioning himself between your thighs.

“Taehyung?” your eyes met his as he hovered over your arousal.

“Do you trust me darling?”

He propped your legs up on his shoulders. A yelp escaped your lips as your pussy was now placed right in front of his face.

Your heart began pounding against your chest blaringly - it became so potent you could almost hear its rhythmic beat against the shell of your ear.

“I trust you.”

The feeling was electrifying and beat through you like a bolt of lightning igniting a warm feeling in the pit of your stomach. His effects on you were lost in the darkness invading your surroundings; still he devoured you as if you were the last meal he’s been presented with.

His tongue licked and sucked your clit. Your breath hitched and all your voice could manage were incoherent babbles accompanied by the chanting of his name.

“Y-you are so good Taehyung.”

He hummed against your folds.

“So good, Taehyung.” You repeated, lacing your finger into his dark strands.

There were spurs of white light behind your eyelids as you became enthralled in the way he continued to move against you. The pleasure was addicting and you were afraid your longing wish was to have Taehyung on his knees every hour of every day and at every given moment.

“Please do not stop,” He continued, “please.”

There were successions of shooting stars ornamenting the heavens and finally you reached the breath-taking place where the earth and the sky meet.

Your heaven.

“You were so good darling,” he paused, “you took my breath away.”

His voice is now deeper than you remembered. A train of moonlight invaded his dormitory. Taehyung looked as stunning as ever, his hair is a disheveled mess, his lips adopted a deeper hue of scarlet while his features were inundated with his sweat.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Yes.”

The feeling was foreign and dissimilar to the feeling you had experienced hen his mouth ate you out, you felt full with him inside of you and although initially there was pain, the more you grew accustomed to it the more pleasure you felt.

His hips moved slowly in and out of you.

Your whimpers mixed with his groans was all that could be heard through the house.

Still, his agonizing pace remained, while his finger landed back on your clit as he traced the number eight repeatedly.

There was no falter in his movements, continued, and continued and continued once again.

Those shooting stars from before burst into beautiful displays of fireworks and for the second time that night you reached your high.

When Taehyung pulled out of you he was still hard, “I am going to head to the bathroom.”

You cut-in, “can I help?”

“Oh,” he moaned, “can you?”

“I want to.”

He sat at the foot of the mattress and patted the spot next to him for you to sit—you did.

“Use your hand. Is that ok with you darling?”

“Yes, can you guide me?”

“Of course.”

The tip of his cock disappeared behind your grasp while his balmy palms covered yours. He guided you down to the base and back up to the tip—the motion he set was swift and you could only ogle as Taehyung masterbated using your hand for release.

The thought made you wet all over again.

He whimpered, “I’m so close.”

His hand remained on top of yours but his motions were no longer leading, he was too engrossed in his own pleasure. You hastened the speed, now determined to help him feel as good as he made you feel.

His whispered moans only motivated your movements until finally his come covered your hand.

After disappearing for a couple of seconds Taehyung walked back from the wash room with a towel in hand, “sorry I didn’t warn you about this,” he wiped you all clean.

“I liked it,” you murmured, “I would like for you to teach me many more things.”

“We have a whole eternity for that darling.”

“Eternity. . That sounds nice.”

author’s note: this feels a but rushed in certain parts and I apologize for that but this story is been something that has taken way too long and I was truly just looking to put it out — hopefully it’s enjoyable though.

thanks for reading. comments, likes, reblogs and messages are always appreciated. let me know what you think <3

#bts #bangtan sonyeondan #kim taehyung #bts v #taehyung smut #bts v smut #bts smut #bts imagines #bts reactions #taehyung x y/n #taehyung x you #taehyung x reader #bts v x reader #taehyung

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giddlygoat · 1 year ago

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whatever. i keep thinking about dt17 LP and drake.

launchpad has been all over the world and made tons of friends and connections, but can’t seem to connect with anyone on a more meaningful level. i think it’s safe to say watching darkwing duck was his only constant in the time he spent traveling and he looked up to the character as a guiding light amongst all the uncertainty. iirc he was kicked out at a young age by his parents [in the classic shows at least] and honestly at this point that is cemented as part of his character for me. the majority of my LP hcs are total speculation bc we don’t have much to go off of but. i think the people who mattered to him most probably told him to get his head out of the clouds or get out of the house and the next thing he knows he’s up in them for good. isolation is launchpad’s nightmare.

drake’s autistic ass got bullied big time as a kid and darkwing imprinted on him heavily because he identified with the character and latched onto the idea that he would stand up against injustice and prevail because that’s the only option he has. he couldn’t even consider staying down after being beaten so many times, it just doesn’t register as a possibility for him. he would just get back up. he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who had much support at all growing up, but he still chooses kindness. you can’t separate drake from his natural inclination towards compassion. and yet ….. ! he absolutely FEEDS off attention. he’s starving for it. he just needs someone to notice him and look at him and listen to him or he will wither. he needs love and validation and respect or he becomes a shell. been there, buddy

do you think when he got the role as DW in the movie he even thought of it as a job at all. i think drake didn’t have to act. i think drake knows the character so well and embodies all he stands for to such an extreme that playing darkwing was like breathing. it’s not hard for me to imagine that drake had moments where the line between him and the character faded, and he would stand at the top of some high tower in the lonely shoes of his hero and look down at all the broken teeth and singed feathers waiting for him and it would not be this profound or unfamiliar thing. i think drake recognizes himself better in the mask.

or you know, maybe he’s a totally normal well adjusted person with no self image issues whatsoever, but somehow i doubt it.

launchpad, meanwhile. hewboy. what if your worth is inseparable from the services you provide for others? what if you give everything you have every chance you get and never ask for anything back? what if the pain and the loneliness that follows the headfirst run into the emotional divide feels more like home than any one place ever did. what if every night you watched a cartoon about a flawed and flamboyant hero who protects a whole city and never takes his mask off for anyone - except maybe a very close friend - because this silly and attractive man can provide the ultimate service on an extreme scale and still be deeply flawed and still be loved.

i think LP naturally needs to follow someone. he’s not a leader, and he doesn’t want to be one. he takes charge when he’s needed, he’s dependable and kind, he cares so much it hurts. but i think following a lead makes him feel secure. he needs to see everyone else rise into their best selves and become self sufficient and content in their lives, but he doesn’t know how to do any of that without someone to build up in turn. launchpad needs validation, especially from the ones he admires, but he’s so programmed to give that he doesn’t know how to ask for anything. i’m guessing half the time he doesn’t even know that he needs help.

launchpad has put himself apart from everyone else, not on a pedestal, but down in the well that never runs dry. he’s forgotten that being happy to help isn’t the same as never needing it.

when him and drake met i think something amazing happened. i think there were a lot of emotions but the strongest had to be relief. drake let launchpad praise and encourage him and launchpad had someone to support and take care of, with the same hyperfixation, no less. two people who had made themselves unreachable suddenly couldn’t separate from each other, and they both know what it’s like to need to look out for everyone else. i think letting their guard down with each other came naturally and vulnerability put itself on the table. they’re both experiencing an easy and strong connection for the first time and it’s beautiful!

i hope these characterizations aren’t too far off, but i wouldn’t be surprised if it seems askew. it’s very difficult for me to keep my thoughts in order but i hope it’s coherent enough. this post is long enough already so i’m going to end it before i talk myself out of sharing it lawl

#darkwing duck #ducktales #dt17 #launchpad mcquack #drake mallard #drakepad #i write everything with drakepad in mind so i think it counts even though i didn’t elaborate much on their relationship here #man. a little voice in my heads says this is ridiculous and delusional chicken scratch. that’s unfortunate #long post

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acermp100 · 8 months ago

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WAWA WEEK PART 4: WAWA RISING

28/3 – Animals/Food: KITTIES

This one is just silly. Based loosely on this.

Mob and Serizawa chill together during a Reigen sanctioned break. Kittens ensue.

General audience. More implied seri/rei. I think I added it to everyone of these I'm sorry.

2700~ words

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The sun still hung high in the air with a few puffy, white clouds keeping the air cool enough to be pleasant. This part of town would be busy in a few hours but right after lunch it sat quite empty. They walked past only a few people heading back to work. Bird song could be heard from the row of trees leading up to a small, communal park.

Serizawa had been here before, but only in passing. He found himself distracted by all the nature he had never noticed: butterflies and caterpillars as a squirrel of some sort gnawed at a nut on one of the tree branches.

“Alright crew!”

Reigen stopped walking, causing the others to halt as well. Serizawa went stiff as a board.

“We mistimed that last client.” And there went the hands. Serizawa watched them as they emphasized every word. “And having completed the prior service faster than expected, as well as finishing lunch early, we now have accrued and extra hour before our next appointment.”

All three had been together for the day, Reigen, Mob, and Serizawa, traveling from one home to another after someone got a brilliant scheme to charge even more for house calls. Personal Psychic Visits call today!

“Do we go back for more lunch?” Mob looked up at his boss waiting for an answer.

“Or maybe, um-“ Serizawa turned away as he played with his hands infront of him. “Get some- uh- office supplies?”

“Haha. Your answers are exactly why I have prepared this task for you.” Reigen brought a hand to his face before drawing it down in a long arc. “You two are going to take a break!”

Mob and Serizawa blinked back.

Reigen let out a sigh. “Look just- just go to that park over there and sit down for a while. Ok?”

“Oh.” Serizawa gave a bow. “Thank you, Reigen-san!”

He followed behind Mob through the little gate into a shaded patch flanked by large trees. Their leaves danced in the light breeze creating little rays of sun that shone onto the surface of the small fountain at the center. A few benches circled the meager, but peaceful area. With no one else around they sat down together and took a moment to enjoy that special kind of silence that only nature could provide.

“I’ve never done this before.” Serizawa spoke after a bit. “Just taking a break in the middle of everything I mean.” A concerned grin. “Especially not for Spirits and Such!”

Mob looked out through the park into the street that ran by before turning back. “I think Shishou just wanted us out of the way so he could go pitch salt lamps to that café owner.”

A nod from Serizawa. “Ah, he did bring them up during the meal.”

“And the owner seemed interested.” Mob replied.

Serizawa tried to see if he could spot Reigen from this distance. Through one of the café windows there appeared to be someone doing part of a gymnastics routine. Yeah. That was probably him.

A few birds flitted by, landing on a low hanging branch before hoping up and along to another, singing as they went. Taking time off felt right: a little break to gather one’s self and be in the moment. Serizawa watched Mob start to lightly kick his legs back and forth under him, before he too looked down at his own feet and followed along. When he was in school this would have been branded as a pointless waste of time. In Claw he would have been told to stop goofing off and focus. A butterfly landed on one of the flowers that bloomed around the fountain, lowering its wings before bringing them together.

“Hey, do you hear that?”

Sitting up with a jerk, Serizawa broke from his pseudo meditation. “Hear what??”

“Shhh.” Mob was leaning down, trying to see under the bench. “Not so loud.”

“Hear what?” Serizawa repeated in a barely audible whisper.

All he could manage to detect was the bird song above. But then, one of the calls sounded too different and much lower. Both of them looked up at the opposite bench as the weeds underneath began to shift and rustle.

“Mree!”

A small, white kitten wandered out from the grass. It had little spots of black fur on his face and legs with one front paw being nearly all dark making it appear as if it was wearing one large sock. This was the leg it was lifting up as it cried out, steadily making its way towards Serizawa and Mob.

“Awww!” Serizawa brought his hands up to his face. “It’s so tiny! Is it hurt??”

Mob slid off the bench and crouched down, holding out his fingers. “I think so.” In a higher pitched voice he cooed to the little kitten. “Come here! It’s ok, we’re nice.”

The kitten paused for a moment before trotting over with increased speed, going straight for a headbutt and rub against Mob’s leg. More high pitched mews rang out.

“I wonder if its mom is near.” Mob gently pet the tiny thing as it pawed at his hand. The hurt leg seemed fine now.

“We can check the bushes.” Serizawa joined him, sitting in the cool grass. “His little spots are so, cute like a tiny cow.”

The kitten tripped, rolling over before making sure to give Serizawa’s leg a good rub too. Another round of meows. But this time there were far more, all cascading over one another in a growing choir.

“Oh my-“

Serizawa gripped his chest. Two more kittens came out of the far bush. No, three. Five?

“There’s so many!” Mob found them tumbling over each other to get onto his lap as well as Serizawa’s.

Now eight in total kittens, some black and white like the first, others ginger or tabby, were circling, climbing, and mewing up a storm with their new found human friends. Serizawa hand’s began to shake as he struggled to give each one the attention they deserved.

“Look! This one has little white socks!” Mob held up a dark tabby with lighter paws.

Serizawa was grinning wide, a few tears in his eyes at the momentous and sudden explosion of preciousness. “And this little guy has a black nose! All white and just that spot on his face!”

“Ha ha. I’ve never seen so many before at once.” Mob too was laughing in full, laying back to allow the kitties to use him as a make shift cat tree.

“I used to see ginger kittens all the time when I walked back from school.” Serizawa was now holding one in each hand as they loudly purred, his fingers feeling the happy vibrations. “My mom and I had a joke that every cat in the area was ginger and came from some big orange cat Kami.”

“I hope they weren’t abandoned.” Mob’s voice trailed off while he gave quality chin scritches to the two now lying on his chest.

Serizawa frowned for a bit at the thought. Didn’t matter now because they were here. He watched one crouch, wiggling its butt before leaping to pounce on his shoe. Three others had decided his lap was now their bed. For a moment it was all mews and smiles until one of the ginger decided to climb up Serizawa’s back. The little claws pricked through his suit and he froze while the kitten managed to get all the way up to his shoulder. There it stood triumphant, rubbing against his cheek with its whole body with a rumbling purr.

“Uh- um.” Serizawa’s hands were shaking even worse now. “Shigeo?”

The levels of adorable had been too much and now some of the kittens were hovering a few inches off the ground along with some small stones and bits of grass.

“I’m s-sorry! I’m trying to keep control.” He was tense now, eyes closing.

Mob sat up. “It’s alright! They seem to like it. Look!”

Taking a deep breath, Serizawa opened one eye, then the other. A black and white kitten floated in front of his face pawing at its own tail, purring as it slowly rotated in the air. The ones in his lap were still snuggled together but had their heads up as they gained their bit of altitude. Two more in the air seemed to be trying to play fight but hovered a few inches too far away resulting in excited rolling and pawing.

“Th-they do!” Serizawa raised a hand and gently cupped one of the battling kittens. It plopped into his palm, belly up and paws curled. “They are so cute, how could someone just dump them in a park?”

“I don’t know.” Mob aided the other floating cats to the ground. The mews he got in return made him smile from ear to ear. “We can help them though.”

It was Serizawa’s turn to lie back, letting out a sigh as he marinated in fur and purrs. “How though?”

“They are probably hungry.”

“Oh! Wait.” Turning to his side, Serizawa pulled his brief case closer and started to rummage through the contents. “I have some jerky in here somewhere. Aha!”

He sat back up with a bag of shredded and dried beef. From just the smell, every kitten congregated around him, reaching up to swipe at the food. Serizawa laughed, his free hand trying to garner enough space in the grass for him to place the jerky. Eventually he gave up against the jumping, crowding kittens and simply dumped the entire bag amongst them.

The meowing stopped, replaced now with chewing amid ever continuing purrs with a few growls in between as they all defended their treats. One stepped back, shaking its self. Another had dropped its piece and was pawing at it.

“Oh.” Mob picked up one of the discarded bits. “I think this stuff is too hard for them.”

“Oh no. I don’t really have anything things else.” Serizawa went through his pack again. “What do they need? Milk?”

Picking one up, Mob stared at the little thing in his hands. Ginger with white front paws, it mewed before gnawing at his thumb.

“They are small but probably off milk, or at least close.” The others had given up eating and resumed their needy meows. “We need something soft, like canned tuna.”

Serizawa frowned down. Just then Reigen came across the corner with a bag of fries in one hand, his cell phone in another, and several of the fried potatoes sticking out from his lips while he chewed on a generous mouthful.

“What the-” His shock came out muffled by the food. Swallowing, he held both the fries and cell phone out at arm’s length. “I left you alone for 30 minutes!”

“S-sorry, Reigen-san.” Serizawa turned his head to avoid the angry stare of his boss. “We got a bit side tracked.”

“Shishou!” Mob looked up. “Can you buy some cat food? The soft kind in the cans!”

“I- wait-what?” Reigen wandered over still trying to piece together what exactly he was looking at.

The cat that had climbed onto Serizawa’s shoulder had now made it to the top of his head, making the man laugh. “Yes please! And maybe a box so we can carry them!”

The boss of Spirits and Such stood there over his two employees sitting in the grass covered in mewing kittens. One of the rascals ran over and butted up against his pants leg, looking up and letting out a tiny, happy trill.

“I’m not getting cat food!” He took a few steps back. The kitten pursued. “And we can’t keep them! What are we going to do, take them to the office?”

Mob gazed up with wide eyes and a kitten against his cheek as he held up one of the dark tabbies. “Shishou please? It’s just for the day until we can take them to the shelter.”

“They are all alone with no mother.” Serizawa joined in, giving his best sad face. “We have to do something.”

“But I- you see- we can’t just- and the office and- UGH!” Reigen ended his broken ramble and crossed his arms in front of him. “We have a client to meet up with in like 20 minutes!” Pointing at one kitten, he drew an arm down before bringing it up into an open palm, fingers tensing. “I told you to take a break not adopt half the strays in the area.”

The normally gruff and serious Serizawa spoke in a soft, begging pitch as he met his boss’s eyes. “Please, Reigen-san.”

A bit of red flushed over Reigen’s cheeks and he hid his face in a hand. Can’t say no to that.

“FINE!” He huffed for a moment before crossing his arms again and glaring daggers at what ever happened to be at is right side. It was a tree. “I’ll- call the client and say something came up.” Another grumble. “Then we can take them back to the office.” He looked back at his employees. “Will that make you happy?”

Serizawa and Mob both beamed while covered in kittens. “Yes! Thank you!”

A few moments later, Reigen returned with a cardboard box he had scavenged in the nearby alley, his mind racing. Serizawa took it and gave a bow, smiling at his boss.

“You’re a good man, Reigen-san.”

Reigen turned away, Serizawa failing to notice the blush and distant look in his eyes. After a careful kneel, he began to pick up the kittens one by one with Mob and place them into the box. The task proved difficult as the little guys kept jumping out again, but eventually they got every last one of them secured.

Mob held the box leaving Serizawa to get the rest of their things. Over his shoulder he could hear Reigen muttering on the phone amongst the kitten mews.

“Yes I’m sorry. There’s been a bit of an emergency with- with the client before you. Can we reschedule? Y-yes. I can give a discount. Alright. See you tomorrow.”

Serizawa watched his boss snap his phone closed and drop his shoulders, ending with a long sigh. For a moment their eyes met and Serizawa gave a sheepish grin back. Reigen straightened his back and managed a smile of his own. Just then a kitten ran between his legs and Reigen panicked, chasing after the little thing before tripping into a bench.

“Reigen-san!” Serizawa rushed over. “Are you alright?”

A mumble before Reigen picked himself up off the back of the bench, wiping dirt off his suit jacket. “Yeah. But I think I lost the kitten.”

“No worries, Shishou.”

Mob stood with the box and the now hovering escapee floated over to them. Reigen held out his hands and took the kitten. It mewed, going for the pink tie but flopping over and deciding to remain half curled up on its back.

“Maybe one of them can be the office mascot.” Serizawa suggested as Reigen pet at the tiny ginger kitty.

“That’s what Dimple is for.”

A chuckle from both of them. And yet Reigen’s gaze was fixed on the cat as it purred and made biscuits against his fingers. For a moment he remained lost in thought, relaxed and joyful, but soon snapped back to his expected levels of strained charisma.

“Alright! Let’s head back to the office and see if we can contact the local shelter.”

Serizawa let out a sigh. Maybe one day his boss would learn what taking a break is all about. Until then, perhaps a box of eight adorable, mewing kittens would help.

#mp100 #serizawa katsuya #reigen arataka #mob kageyama #this is kinda my weakest one im sorry #i've been like hilariously depressed this entire week so it's hard to get these to good quality #kitties #my writing #fan fic #mp100 fan fic #cant say no to begging seri ok #reigen branded salt lamps they come signed by him and probably a pic of him too #gotta take that swipe at dimple #he's prob back at the office like FOR SOME REASON IM MAD AT REIGEN #serizawaweek2024

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