#means that you consent to being spoiled. which i don't. so i just don't read fic.

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

I’m taking this off replies and to your inbox or whatever this is called (I’m old and not hip to the Tumblr lingo). I just wanted to say I’m so enjoying your X-Files reactions and thoughts! I just became a fan a couple of years ago. My parents didn’t let me watch it when it first aired, as they didn’t think it quite appropriate for a child the tender age of 9 years. What I enjoy most about your posts are that you’re spoiler free! I sometimes wish I had remained spoiler free upon my initial watch, but my anxiety prevents me from not knowing what’s going to happen next. I do think, had I not been spoiled, my reactions would have been very similar to yours. Especially since when I re-watch the episodes (and films) I still have those reactions even though I know what’s coming. Anyway, that’s all! I love your content!

aww, thank you so much for this sweet message! i really appreciate it <3 i am so glad to be getting to see something a lot of people have loved and held close for a while through brand-new eyes! i would also have been terrified as a child haha, i was thinking that very thought tonight as a scary devil appeared in 6x07!

i often wish i could rewatch my favorite movies for the very first time, which is where the whole idea of this blog came from. i have been lucky to remain mostly unspoiled! with the exception of that first morning where i looked the show up on wikipedia and learned a few major plot points, LMAO, but it was the absurdity of those plot points that made me tune in, so. i suppose all is well with the world.

(well, that first morning i looked some stuff up, AND i've seen a few posts tumblr recommended to me because they correctly deduced that i like the show, but incorrectly deduced where i am in the show. allow me to shake my fist and curse at the algorithm. but still! MOSTLY spoiler free! and luckily, the community has been INCREDIBLY kind- this has genuinely the most positive fan experience i have ever had by a long shot)

anyway, thank you so much for this kind message; it really means a lot! <3 sending lots of love!!

[nadas-dirthalen]

I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART FIVE: if you haven't read previous parts, do it now! —

[ 1 ] [ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travelers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(no, this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

Today's Discussion: the Tragedy of the Evanuris (1/3)

— Beings Made, Souls Sundered, Hearts Blackened —

Welcome back! As always, please please please go read the earlier instalments of this series before reading this one. I don't have the space in every post to reiterate all relevant context, and I fear I'll leave people feeling lost if they jump in on this one.

Okay? Okay.

So: we've unearthed that Solas came from lyrium (probably). That Titans are the Forgotten ones; that the Maker is likely a Titan. That Titans were sundered, and the Fade is their (currently sundered) consciousness that once drifted freely over the world like wind. That all magic is one thing, and only looks like two schools because one pulls from the Titans' consciousness, and the other pulls from their physical bodies. That in the Chant of Light, at least some of the Evanuris are the Maker's first children, and they sought to conquer the earth.

Today, we'll go over what I think that means for all of them. Where I believe each Evanuris truly came from, what each of them did to wreak havoc upon the world and the Titans, and what I think could happen in Veilguard.

I do not have a chronology of the Evanuris's existence, though. Their history still reads something like, "the Evanuris were born/made -> ??? the everything??? every crime they did??? -> the Evanuris were trapped by Solas" in my brain. Therefore, I'll be splitting the topics up into each of the Evanuris, not an attempt at cataloguing their history linearly.

Mythal and Lyrium Coffins

Elgar'nan and Sundered Beings

Falon'Din and Blackened Hearts

Mythal and Lyrium Coffins

I'm going to make no attempt to guess how Mythal came into being herself, only that she is one of the Maker's first children and that Dalish legend says she rose from the sea (the emerald waters, perhaps). It's what she has done in the time since that interests me.

Starting off strong: this is the reason we're all here. This is the reason I've been inspired to write this post in the first place. The revelation that shook my brain: that it was Mythal who did not just ask Solas to manifest into a body, but who mined him from a Titan.

One reason I put Mythal first is that, with what little I understand of the chronology, I believe that her actions of mining people from the Titans came before the others', simply because the act of making people must come before the horrible acts that were later done to those people by the other Evanuris.

It seems like Mythal's crime (because yeah, I'm going to call "mining spirits from lyrium and putting them into corporeal bodies without their enthusiastic consent and then putting her vallaslin on their faces" a crime) is the foundation upon which all the others' happens. This is how the Evanuris built their empires, it seems: by warring with the Titans and creating the elvhen out of the spoils of that war.

It has massive implications for the elvhen people and their elven descendants. It has implications for the world of spirits, both lyrium- and Fade-based. Regardless of if Mythal eventually became the "sole voice of Reason" that Solas claims she was before she was murdered, the point is that the Evanuris's crimes all stem from Mythal's own.

Remember that she, too, was holding up a golden orb with Elgar'nan. She, too, was naming herself a false god.

The other reason I've included Mythal first is that this is our first concrete confirmation that there is a direct relation between the actions of the Evanuris and the vallaslin we can choose as players. They could not have been more obvious with this one: Mythal's vallaslin are the shape of Solas's original body, and likely the same shape as the other countless people she mined from lyrium. This means we can examine the other Evanuris's vallaslin for clues about their deeds during their reign as the elven gods.

Let's begin taking a look at the rest of the pantheon. First: if Mythal made the first elvhen, what did her counterpart, Elgar'nan, do?

Elgar'nan and Sundered Beings

Elgar'nan's origin seems to be different from Mythal's. The sun, in Dalish legend, is often associated with dragons. Elgar'nan was supposedly born from a union between the sun and the earth, in the place where they touched. My hypothesis is that Elgar'nan is the product of dragonfire wounding a Titan, and Elgar'nan breaking off from said Titan as a result. This is only a guess, and is not what I want to focus on. Instead, I want to turn our collective attention to his deeds, as they are more important for the story of the Evanuris.

We now understand that the Evanuris mined Titans to create their followers, the elvhen. This is the first crime of the Evanuris, done by Mythal. It gave way to all the others. To understand this, let us look at Mythal and Elgar'nan's first "children."

Dirthamen and Falon’Din are linked in Dalish legend as inseparable twin brothers. Scraps of elven stories from after the fall of Arlathan—transcribed into Tevinter and recently lent to our fair University—refer to them as “twin souls” but draw no family connection. The oldest stories never even name them directly, referring to Falon’Din as “Dirthamen’s shadow,” and Dirthamen as “Falon’Din’s reflection.” The little we understand implies their bond was not romantic, beyond even the strongest friendship. The legends of Dirthamen and Falon’Din may have been an allegory for complex elven relationships we lack context to comprehend.

For a long time, I wondered what this relationship could be. But once I'd seen for certain that Mythal mined bodies from Titans—and once I pieced together that these bodies and spirits are intricately related, as lyrium stores thought and memory in a physical container—I knew the implications behind "twin souls."

I then referred to Dalish legend. Now, one must remember not to read Dalish legend literally, just like with the Chant of Light. The Sun may be referred to as Elgar'nan's father, but I posit that the Sun is just another of Thedas's magical forces: dragons, or anything relating to fire and the draconic.

From the wiki:

According to elven legend, the sun grew jealous of the favor shown by Elgar'nan for the things of the earth, and so burned them to ashes. In retaliation, Elgar'nan threw the sun down from the sky, and only later relented because of Mythal's intervention. He was convinced, with her help, to restore his father to the sky on the promise that the sun would set each night.

Dalish legend is full of symbols, but if we read this through that lens, then Elgar'nan threw down a powerful being—whether a dragon or a powerful spirit associated with fire (rage demon, anyone?)—into the abyss.

To get an idea of what happened down there, I turned to a codex found in the Deep Roads in Trespasser.

What were the ancient elves doing down here? Mining? Where were the dwarves? Easier to have them mine it. Not a trading post. You don't go into a friend's home, knock over their gods, and put up your own. War? I don't remember any legends about our people fighting the dwarves. Though I remember my Keeper telling a story about how the dwarves fear the sun because of Elgar'nan's fire. A metaphor for the elves of Arlathan driving the dwarves underground?

Remember that ancient elvhen mining looked a lot like creating people. And whatever Elgar'nan did down here, it put lasting fear into the dwarves.

The legend says that Elgar'nan then released the sun into the sky, after Mythal's intervention. Note that this area of the Deep Roads is where Mythal's lyrium coffins are found. And after Mythal intervened and Elgar'nan released that "Sun" he'd thrown down?

And that night, when the sun had gone to sleep, Mythal gathered the glowing earth around his bed, and formed it into a sphere to be placed in the sky, a pale reflection of the sun's true glory.

Mythal released another being, out of the wreckage of what Elgar'nan had done. A reflection of that "Sun." Noting that Dirthamen is referred to as "Falon'Din's Reflection," I think that gives us insight into Elgar'nan's actions during the reign of the Evanuris: the ones that would make someone like Solas feel seething hatred for him, enough to call the Evanuris his "mortal enemies."

And his vallaslin perfectly illustrate that: the complex version of the Elgar'nan vallaslin, pictured above, shows a face split in half. One half is painted in the inverse colours of the other, showing a perfect divide between two things. One side, a reflection; the other, more coloured in, is effectively a shadow of the other.

And the achievement icon I've placed next to it confirms my theory: Elgar'nan is holding up a moon in the memory titled, "Our Mistake." (Why this is not the sun, I can only guess. Ease of illustration, maybe?)

But the question remains: what did Dirthamen and Falon'Din then do that would earn them places in the same evil pantheon?

Falon'Din and Blackened Hearts

We know that vallaslin tell stories, so right away, I'll direct you to look at Falon'Din's. We can see what looks like roots and branches, with an orb of some kind in the center. When I first started playing Dragon Age (March of this year, can you believe), I associated that with some Tree of Life imagery, with a focus on the roots and (ostensibly) Death. Makes sense, right?

But look at the image from Memory #3: Blackened Hearts right next to it. That is the heart of a Titan, swathed in shadowy tendrils, with a lot of undead-looking hands reaching toward it.

Suddenly, I am seeing a Titan's heart in the middle of my Rook's forehead. The Rook I made in August.

I think there's still more to unearth. Let's look at what Solas says about Falon'Din in the Temple of Mythal:

"I do not believe they sing songs about Falon'Din's vanity. It is said Falon'Din's appetite for adulation was so great, he began wars to amass more worshippers. The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans. Mythal rallied the gods, once the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across her own people. It was almost too late. Falon'Din only surrendered when his brethren bloodied him in his own temple."

"He began wars to amass more worshippers" has caught my attention, now, in a new way. We know now that the Evanuris didn't amass all their following through matters of persuasion. In fact, they made their own followings, harvesting them from Titans.

"The blood of those who wouldn't bow low filled lakes as wide as oceans." Before, I might have read that as killing so many people that their blood would fill an ocean. But even for Solas, even for the Evanuris, that seems like an exaggeration. Now I ask: were the lakes as wide as oceans already there, deep underground? Did the Titans' blood flow into them as Falon'Din waged his wars?

And, finally, "the shadow of Falon'Din's hunger stretched across [Mythal's] own people." Now, we know that that does not just mean Mythal's faithful, or her friends. It means the people that Mythal was making—a group which Solas belongs to. I'm beginning to see why he'd hate Falon'Din so viscerally.

But what was Falon'Din's goal, really?

The People swore their lives to Falon'Din Who mastered the dark that lies. Whose shadows hunger Whose faithful sing Whose wings of death surround him Thick as night. Lethanavir, master-scryer, be our guide, Through shapeless worlds and airless skies.

The Chant oft refers to a number of opposites. Earth and Sky, yes, but also Darkness and Light—also referring to the Abyss and the Fade. If we imagine that Falon'Din has mastered this darkness, and that the singer of this song suggests that the darkness lies, it may be that Falon'Din was anti-Titan in general. "Wings of death" surrounding him may refer to dragons, as "Winged Death" does in the case of Elgar'nan's codices. After, we come to the final stanza: "Lethanavir, master-scryer, be our guide / Through shapeless worlds and airless skies."

Keeping with the Earth/Sky metaphor, I am wondering if Falon'Din wanted an end to everything Titan-related to get rid of magic entirely: both Earth and Sky.

I wonder if what he accomplished was not killing the Titans, though, but "blackening their hearts." We already know that the Forgotten Ones are beings of "malice, terror, spite, and pestilence." They have names remarkably similar to demons. Perhaps, in trying to kill them, Falon'Din turned them from benevolent beings to these twisted opposite qualities.

If that is the case, it has major implications for the Evanuris later in this series. Not only that, but major implications for the world of Thedas at large. Once these Titans' hearts were blackened, what horrors began to befall Ancient Elvhenan?

What went so wrong that Solas sundered all the Titans' minds from their bodies in order to stop catastrophe?

---

As ever, if you got this far, thank you!! I look forward to reading any additions or questions people might have, as ever!!

Also: I am trying my hardest not to consume full-game-review spoilers! As these reviews have just gone live a few hours ago (10/28), I am not reading my notifications/replies, and am appearing here only to continue posting my theories.

But if you feel like sticking around anyway, stay tuned for: The Tragedy of the Evanuris pt. 2: Horrors Enacted Upon the Faithful.

[court-jobi]

Best Medicine

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (AFAB | fem pronouns, but fairly neutral)

Words: 7.7k

Rating: Teen/Mature, 18+ (spicy first half) (K'oyacyi, sweet minors)

Warnings: Implied sensual release, grinding, cuddling, love confessions, carbonite sickness, language, memory loss, emotional hurt/comfort, survivor’s guilt, sleep intimacy, talks of consent/taking advantage, FEELINGS, the helmet comes off, Mandalorian marriages, Din deserves everything wonderful, Fluff/Hurt/Comfort roller coaster ride, angst with a happy(ish?) ending~

//set in pre and post- Season Two | The Mandalorian and the Book of Boba Fett (time jump)...// Translations included at end of work//

A/N & credits: Honorable mentions to @writerlyhabits for helping my mind run wild with carbonite sickness headcanons, and for inspiring me to write out this emotional ride of comfort-HURT-comfort for you all. It’s not often I make any form of whump, my Tumblr lovelies, so be kind and apologies in advance for this… It was both a challenge and an adventure to write~ I promised there’s a lovely silver lining in all my works, and I hope this one is enjoyable!

✨May the 4th be with y'all✨

Need more Star Wars fics? Get your fix w/my masterlist HERE!

Read on AO3

Summary: These are the soft moments you live for: each caress and light word of banter chisel the dark heaviness of life away, chip by chip. Tonight’s no different– you are swept up into the arms of Mando who’s taken your bait, and loving every minute of it. You’re overdue for a break and some quality time.

The quiet cabin of the Razor Crest gave you the space for cozy confessions, to learn more of his mother tongue, and give in to your tendency to get carried away like teenagers, if just for a spell.

Laughter is the best medicine: from the dead of hyperspace, to whatever bed you've landed on while on the run. Yet will that be the case– as the cruelty of time and circumstance test it?

"Ho-okay, c'mere you."

Relishing in your giggles as you wedged your hand in between his newly exposed ribcage, the Mandalorian let out the catch in his throat and quickly picked you up by your thighs– the perfect way to toss you up on one shoulder. You squealed and couldn't stop laughing even as he groused about your ‘cheeky hands where I can see them’, and walked you over to his quarters. 

He swung you back down so that you plopped with a bounce on the recently laundered bunk. It’s tidy – well, was, before you fell onto it– and still smells fresh and windblown from your last stop. Pliant under his shadow, he towered over you with a hand on each side of your head. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t wearing armor; he’s still impressive.

"Do I have to teach you to mind your manners, too?" The rasp came out as annoyed, but you knew better.

He chides the kiddo all the time. 'Quit picking at things', 'don't give her that attitude'; all the magic words have to be instilled in him, as well as just keeping to himself and not being a nuisance. Munchkin has to be taught such things; they're juvenile. 

That's not what he means with you. He's talking about the glances, the bounce of your foot taunting him when your legs cross, the playing with your belt which then tugs your neckline… when you line up your scope just right, just as he taught you, and you give him all the credit. 

You really don't have to try hard at all to get Mando’s attention– it's the game of keeping a step away that leads into a chase that gets under his skin. Especially when he just knows you're up to it. 

You have a few hours to kill until the next leg of your adventure begins. It’s bound to be a restless one when you touchdown planetside, so spoil him, you shall.

You couldn't stop smiling when he caught you.

"C'mon, you can't blame me, space cowboy. You're fun to tease." 

Since you were taken down, you brushed your hair back, let your arms hang above your head, toying with him through your eye’s bat.

The visor transfixed on you told you everything you needed to know: you were practically gift-wrapped under him, and he’s obsessed with the view. That was by design.

Your laughter died down to little hums as you watched him glance to the wall, back to you, then again toward the shelf. He finally decided to palm the panel brusquely to shut the door behind him: encasing you both in automatic darkness. 

You heard the click of the underside of his helmet. A relaxed, hollowed chuckle transitioned to a bright one to fill the silence. 

Jackpot.

Strong arms came slowly down to the bed to hold you, with a warm, -now ungloved- hand brushing more hair back that had framed your face every which way.

The Mandalorian cooed down at you with a saccharine smile you knew had to be there,

"I love hearing you laugh…"

Hearing and touch senses honed in, you reached tentatively to where his shoulder would be, pulling him in and inviting him to lay in his newly claimed spot between your legs. The Mandalorian followed so, gingerly.

You murmured an affirmation as a questioning reply, coupled with a breathy string of chuckles to confirm his desires. Truly your eyes couldn't know the difference between open and closed in total blackness, anyway.

"--and I love listening to you sing," he praised you again. “I can hear you better this way.”

You hummed sweetly, 

"Aww, so you do enjoy being serenaded huh? Big, scary bounty hunter brought to his knees by a wannabe wordsmith with a funny accent?"

Eager lips laid their caring touch to your forehead. 

“Every time." He pressed little cheek kisses to you, too, explaining his untold, priceless comforts in between, "The minute you put the kid to bed is my favorite part of the day."

He feels your fingers trail up to his hair, nails taking through the crimped mess of curls there. He froze his affections the moment you did that. You ease moans out of him at one, singular touch.

He doesn't care how small he sounds, you think. All he knows is ‘I’m safe.’

"And this, is mine:" you said with a softness reserved for him. All teasing is set aside when you do choose to be serious. You shifted so he can let down more weight onto you in the newly shared room, "Taking care of the one man who puts everything and everyone else before himself. It's quite the honor, for me."

Sighs fall from him so easily. You'd imagine his eyes shut at that. 

“It’s you who honors me,” Mando countered.

You wanted these moments to count: taking any chance you could to affirm and provide whatever comfort you can with the little downtime you had.

You know he won't show you, but it doesn't keep you from wondering… when he's so close, you wonder what he looks like under the helm. What kind of hair, how long. What breaks in the skin have cut into him after wearing it for so long, or did he have any prior to swearing on the names of his Ancestors. 

What of his eyes alone? There's the usual gemlike hues, earthy tones; or there's always the artificial overlays people use to disguise themselves or the retinal scans– it's just a special effect they use in those holovids you watch on the weekends. Just the kind he mocked when he caught you watching them. 'Silly and pointless and ridiculously scripted.' And yet while he sassed about the waste of time, you often corralled him enough so that he'd at least sit with you while he cleaned off the carbon scoring of his rifles, to watch them passively by your side… he'd caved to your whims if you so much as touched him. That's what got you here.

With him at his most docile, you felt brave enough to ask what has always mystified you,

"What color are your eyes, hon?"

You heard Mando’s head tilt up with its sleepy intake of breath. A flash of worry that you overstepped hit you, feeling his form rise from its concave state under your touch… but he didn't go away. Fingers wound their way to cup the back of your neck instead– 

–to prepare to taste yours in just a few moments.

"Purple," he answered.

You snorted at the lie. It's just a little bluff, but you'll entertain it… you both are teetering in the realm of what's permitted within his Creed anyway. 

His lips are a breath from yours. You played along; like you'd won the guessing game,

"I knew it."

Your winner’s kiss was the touch of warmth he'd needed all day. 

Eh, maybe he'd tell you the truth one day, maybe not– besides, you don't have any brainpower left to wonder when he's kissing you. 

One turned into two and more, with the Mandalorian’s hands roaming your features until they reached low enough to switch spots and roll you over onto his chest instead. His palm’s exploration over your shoulder gave you the chance to pull away for a breath, leaving you to process the shivers he's causing and taking the time to relish his touch.

"I really do have to thank you," Mando confessed between deep breaths. Deep, like he was really breathing for the first time today. "I've– never felt so.. safe. Ever -in all my life- than when I'm with you."

You melted, until he said more.

"Feels like I’ve cheated the Fates to even be left standing, much less lie down without needing to keep an eye open. I never-- really thought I.. deserve this."

You wondered why. Your browline tensed with worry, why he would be so self-deprecating even after a career like his… littered with wins and paygrades and beskar trophies?

"Ill-deserving of what?" You asked plainly. "--having someone care about you?"

Your Mandalorian fell quiet, simply running a hand up and down your back with complete tenderness. Where his blunted nails caught your skin on the backstrokes, the pads of his glove-worn hands soothed the loving scratches’ path. 

This silent confirmation wouldn’t cut your questions: it’s still a force of habit, Mando using actions to show what he means. 

"You give me kindness. Kindness that," Mando spoke of the wonder of this feeling, "I had to convince my heart to accept. Who'd dare refuse a gift from you… But I can't help feeling it's wasted on someone like me."

Someone like him: a hunter? Or a Mandalorian? Folks frowned upon both mantles. You knew the biases, but you treated him fairly, made him feel valid– even before your feelings for him grew into something much sweeter than a working coexistence. Thank the Stars, you were so happy to find your chemistry was a feeling Mando shared after a late night with a too-close call. A feeling he was apparently still getting used to- hence the apparent guilt of what ‘gift’ he'd been given by having someone so generous like you for a partner.  

This broke your heart every time. Not just hearing his affirmations and words of appreciation when they catch you off guard– but how he’d thank you for the most basic needs of his own.

"Honey," you leaned down your forehead to his, "You matter. Whether you believe it or not, you're loved and not alone in this galaxy. Your words, feelings, they matter to me. It's not wasted, any of it, baby. I'm honored to be the one who gets to love you on the day-to-day basis, yeah, but... even if I wasn't in the picture, I should hope you’d still seek out getting your needs met. That's all anyone wants, I think." 

You caressed his stubbled jaw line with your thumb as it slid and traced down the seams to his chest. Something inspiring bumbled around in your head, so you tried working it out.

"You know as well as I do... these days can blur together so fast when we're moving too fast. We– get in the way of our own thoughts, and that can make our minds a messy place. It’s easy then, we forget how needed our wants are, sometimes.”

The hands caressing you stilled; reverent to every word you said.

“Keep your word, settle your debts, all that’s still true,” you shook your head, “But please don't forget this part, hon... You matter, and that includes the softer things you want. The nice things. What the amazing, kind- hearted man underneath needs."

No person has ever respected him so much. To honor his creed and what it entails, to support what he did, the lifestyle he chose-especially one as taxing as this. He wouldn't call himself a kind man; he was a killer, detached and for the longest time, keen to remain that way.. But if this woman so dear to him said so, maybe he was learning to be gentle after all.

You wished more than ever that you could stare him in the eyes so you'd know he heard you– but you swung for the next best thing: you held your hand right on top of his heart. Its beat was faint under his padded underarmour, but there.

His breath faltered at the touch. 

Mando reached his to find the digits caressing him and dancing his along each one: skin to skin. Has no one really ever told him that? A little huff of air escaped him; you felt his head shake from the motion rustling the pillow beneath him.

"Hell, you're sweet," Mando brought your fingers off and laced them to his lips. "You mean that."

"Of course I do. I don't say it to prove I'm being right. I want you to know the truth."

He was quiet again. Only this time, a purposeful finger ran along your side to coax you out. Tickle, more like.

"Ok, sometimes I like being right!!" you rushed out to make him stop.

"I have a running list of wagers a mile long that says otherwise, cyar'ika. You fool no one, let alone me." 

Mando amused himself every now and then, a sound you loved like a drug, too. You took control and dove up for another kiss, his deep laugh turning into something stronger, deeper. He always kissed you like he was drowning and you were his source of life and air. As if you'd fly away at any minute.

His hands pulled you tightly to him, demanding closeness with firm, undulating grips on your thigh and on your neck to direct you. Kiss after kiss, you eventually led from your point of leverage to start kissing down his neck as an experiment.  He'd gasped at first, but the good kind. The kind that begged, not stalled for less.

“Loving on me,” Mando rasped, “Is that wha’ you– you’re calling nngthis?”

Your boy needed reassurance, something awful, tonight.

You'd normally tease him as you go, gauging his response to touching these new places, but were kind about it tonight. As touch-starved as your Mandalorian is, you didn't want to overwhelm him.

So you merely paused, gave a sweet “Sir, yes, sir~” and carried on after a quick peck on the cheek.

You couldn’t help but let your giddiness escape again when you reached a soft spot on his neck; one that made him say your name in an awestruck cry. Soft on the clips, long on the vowels. God, you love the sound of it, bobbing under your waiting lips as you worship the space. He's warm, stubbled, and just perfect. 

"The way you say my name,” you beamed, “I'm starting to think you like me or something, honey."

Mando sighed out, moving a hand to the back of your head to get your attention:

"Din."

You still kissed him, asking him to repeat with a little hum.

"m'... m' name."

The loving haze blew away, and you with it. A zing thrummed to life in your chest. He’s never told you his name– ‘anonymity was his strength’ dictating the secrecy, after all. Despite the dark, you leaned up on an elbow. 

Your eyes went wide, looking into nowhere at the wall, breathless at the discovery.

"Your name is Din?" 

He was just as breathless beneath you, equally rendered mute as you were. Made sense, it was the first time he'd said the word to anyone in years; the proof lay in how his chest was heaving, "Yes."

"...Din."

He melted at the sound of it on your tongue. 

"Din Djarin." he offered up his family name.

"Din Djarin." so you honored the clan, just the same.

He shuddered, "Fuck, yes".

In a surge, Din Djarin -no longer just the man you affectionately called ‘hey you’- pulled you back to his lips. Heated minutes passed with his hands all over you and your delighted, soft laughs breaking your kisses from pure happiness. 

You now knew his name. Two words that coded him in a way few knew, and you were one of the select recipients of such intimate knowledge. This would take your bond to new heights tonight, and you could barely stand the euphoria that flooded you.

You'd started shuffling about with your hips instinctively over his once as much as your perch allowed and when they settled as an unintentional roll, Din sighed deeply and with a tighter grip. One hand gathered up your hair in his hand, where he could relish the waves in it and hold you back enough where he could lap at your neck as you'd done to him. Your hips found permission to work their magic and you were met with a carnal side of the Mandalorian you'd anticipated he held back all along. Even though his thick trousers and your leggings separated you two entirely, it was enough to scratch the itch and blind him even more to anything around him in a matter of seconds.

Little phrases passed Din’s lips; sweet nothings you thought, with no idea for their meaning. But with him talking, you didn't care if he was reciting the alphabet, his dinner order, or the damn 'Ode to the Empire’. He was practically praying hotly in your ear, and that was a buzz you'd never try to stop and put a pin in the moment to demand a pocket translator.

"Mesh’la, cyar’ika. Ka'ra jaon'kov, cuy’gar mesh’la. B’d jate... Jatne o'r ner sur'haai…" 

One deep roll sent him gripping you tight so he bucked back. The sensation hit you in a special place too; you cried out a bit louder than you anticipated. Before you could even think to be shy about it, Din sucked hard on your neck– and your surprise jumped an octave.

"That's it, sweetheart." Din swallowed, "Kriff, that's a good girl." 

He set a pace that you had no control of anymore. You'd be losing control yourself soon enough.

A bit helplessly, you whimpered along with the rolls, listening to his begs, 

"Din, I ---nnnguhhh"

"What is it, sweet girl? Rejorhaa'ir ni. Does that feel good, huh?"

"Mhmmm.. it feels good,"

"You sound good. Heavens, you sound amazing. So.. so fucking pretty.." Din sought a sloppy makeout that you happily fell into. 

From the warmth buzzing in your face through your body, you shot away breathless in a tiny whine into his cheek; something was going to burst inside.

"Ohmygodohmygod, Mand– Din, I can't..."

He ground up a bit faster, "Ni ganar’e, cyare, I've got you. Let go. Let me hear you, c'mon."

You'd whined again, shaking your head against your better judgment. 

Sensing the fight in you, Din fisted the hand on your hair into a deliciously tight hold– his loving, seductive mouth speaking into the soft flesh by your jaw while his hand explored its way down to your thigh.

"C'mon, I know you're close. C'mon." The bass in his voice turned it into a growl easily. He was desperate too. "Be my best girl, like I know you are."

Oh God that tempted you. You'd been grinding faster, yourself. Not unlike hearing the pre-flight tells you catch when the engines cycle power in the cockpit: you're racing the lighting inside you while still trying to be conscious of the moment. Staying centered on him. 

On Din. Din Djarin.

And with another suckling, lazy kiss to your neck, you'd cried out. The tremors jolted within you, subsiding into trembling shakes even when you quit thrashing against him.

Din's hand dropped to brace your back after your rush, keeping up his pace while you fought for breath. His voice choked out fast, too, ending his chase in a hard groan and his own hips rutting against you a few times harder than the rest, then fell back altogether. Your highs concluded quickly– with the mellow clang of his head thunking against the bar at the top of his bunk as he fell back.

You didn’t mean to, but you chuckled at his small 'ow', so you cupped your hand up to cradle his head. Massage it, to comfort. Even he, the man who takes vibroblades to the flesh and barely sheds a tear, feels vulnerable enough to give a little whine out to play for sympathy.

 Catching your breath has never felt so good.

 Soon enough though, you felt both his hands slide to your hips and push up a bit.

You lifted gingerly, "Oh, am I hurting you?"

"I.. I uh,... made a mess." Din sounded so winded.

You ran hot at that admission.

"Oh. Heh, sorry ‘bout that."

"Oh hell, don't you apologize for that," You could hear the smile, albeit the awkward stumbling behind it. "Wait- wait here." 

He tipped you on your side and kissed you quick. 

"Eyes closed?”

You nuzzled his forehead pressed onto yours, "Already there."

"Atta girl." Din  leaned into another kiss.

He left and changed quickly. Gave you enough time for you to collect your hair up and over the pillow from where it got mussed, hugging a pillow to yourself in his place, still giddy at making the Mandalorian lose himself.

Making Din lose himself.

By his dulled footsteps and overhead bar of light painting a Mandalorian-shaped shadow onto the door again, you hid in your pillow dramatically. The rumbles of his voice carried to you as the door closed and he crawled back to you as before; bare to the room once more and laughing at your comical eagerness for him to shed the helmet again.

"Ok–" Din’s welcoming hand pulled your arm down; familiar, to when he'd collected your hands at the start.

"Hey you." You cooed shyly.

"Hey you." He purred back.

You lifted up into another kiss, this one much calmer and softer, having been sated in the most tender way with him.

Settling back, breathless you muttered out a quick 'hey' to bring him back to the present. "Teach me how to say something?"

Obeying your pause, he slowed to a stop. "In Mando'a?” he asked.

"Mhm?"

Interest piqued his tone, “What do you want to say?”

What your heart’s been singing for months every moment he has his back turned. What you’ve meant and said a thousand different ways other than the three standard words. Only this time, you want him to be in on the secret, too. You wanted to be able to tell him this in a way that will only resonate with him:

“..I wanna say 'I love you'.”

Din went rigid. Then straightening up, he brushed your hair back soothingly, falling to a whisper- another secret.

"We would say..ni kar'tayl gar darrasuum."

“Ni cart ah-"

He chuckled, "ni kar'tayl,"

"ni kar'tayl,"

"gar,"

"gar?"

"darrasuum."

"darrasuum."

"That's it. All together?" Din guided. 

You tried for all three, and when it did , it slid perfectly off your tongue so that a happy, wet sound left him. Something about it must have stung his eyes you couldn't see. You pressed a couple small kisses to his lips.

Mando’a was a gorgeous, sonorous language– and quite possibly the trickiest to pick up.

Then your tone turned curious, "Haven't… you been saying that to me? All this time?"

"You remembered." He nuzzled your forehead, but shook his head a little to answer, ‘not quite’ teased in his motion. "Kar'tayl means 'to know', or another way... It means to care deeply, to care for. Mandalorians use it for many things, depending who they speak it to. There is no word for 'love', so... "

"To really know someone is to love them." You finished sweetly.

You hit the nail on the head, and speaking that core tenet earned you a loving sweep of Din’s thumb across your cheek.

It’s inevitable; your chest was going to burst.

"That's beautiful, Din." You blissfully sighed. He snuck both arms around you, pulling you forward. “Din Djarin.”

"It means so much," he whispered, "--coming from you..."

In that moment, you hoped his heart could rest…

FIVE MONTHS LATER

Din lays at your back, having nestled up subconsciously overnight. 

His arm -the perfectly still, bracing one he relies on when he scouts- found its place so easily spooned beneath yours. Proof you are part of a matching set: intwined in love and bond and safety, even in sleep– at least to him, who you knew once felt he didn’t deserve such sweetness and warmth.

This would have been nothing out of the ordinary, nothing out of character for Din to do with you in bed. He cuddled you nightly, religiously, from that first evening onward, sharing your bed and souls alike since you spoke your first word of love to him. Normally, you’d welcome it, you always welcome him.

But– not now. Now, it set you on edge. Since his last shift of the blankets when he rolled over, you haven’t been able to fall back asleep. In uneasiness, you lie awake and aware of how a once tender act was wrong. Your conscience nags at your gut: no, no, no.

Not like this. 

He doesn't know what he's doing.

Stop him. 

Tell him to move.

Move him.

You willed yourself awake when Din curled in; you really shouldn’t allow this. But for the sake of his rest as all the docs all say he needs, you let him seek his peace however makes him the most comfortable, content enough to watch the ongoing lanes of traffic of early and late commuters of the Ring out your window’s slats. 

Sleep wasn’t easy for you now anyway– not with this every present knot in your throat. It’s set to burst when your mind wanders too far towards what got you here…

There were two callsigns you memorized since meeting Din– not as a request or favor, but a demand. One of course, was his, and the other belonged to one of the last Mandalorians standing from his former covert as a last resort. One that he quizzed you on over and over about answering, ‘should anything ever happen to me’. 

One day, that callsign just pinged you– and sent a good bit of ice into your stomach when you greet a wide-cut blue helm filling your holo. 

“Master Vizsla.”

“Lady Djarin,” Paz greeted with a warm-enough familiarity. 

Something in the way he chose how he delivered his words around you told you that he’s perhaps making an effort to appear personable over a holomessage, whereas he may put on fewer airs face-to-face.

You were honest, 

“I feel like there’s few reasons someone like you would call me, and none of those reasons strike me well…”

“ I’ve only said two words, little bird. Your intuition is a curious one,” his helmet shook a little, “-though, not misplaced...”

You leveled your face, waiting to hear what he had to say.

“I have news. I recovered your riduur. He is alive, though not in the same state as when he left you.”

Now that is a curious response. 

You outsourced yourself for a job and have taken a good, six-week-long hiatus from your shared space rented on the Glavis Ringworld pursuing your own contracts. Although confident in this share of responsibility, it’s been harder being away from each other than either of you anticipated. You spoke on comms for each other’s voices about every other rotation in your separation, though never nearly as far from each other’s mind. But this was your marriage, one you honored in every way- together or apart. 

And anything to bring in some extra credits, and… take your mind off the kiddo’s absence… has been a welcome distraction. 

Only now, with Paz’s news, you’re both relieved and far more anxious to learn just why Din hasn’t answered your hails from an unusual, weeklong stretch of radio silence…

“Sorry, not the same– state?” you asked, “what do you mean? What about his state…”

Before your headspace had the chance to spin– running wild with concern over his body, what he could have suffered, could have fought, could have breathed, ingested, poisoned–

“...state of mind, I fear.” was Paz’s cool answer. “He has lost his Path, and you need to help him guide it back where it belongs.”

This, as it would turn out, was not so easy a malady to heal.

You met Paz at his transmitted coordinates to collect your husband and work through what was to become the biggest challenge this -or any relationship in your life- has ever faced:

Fekking carbonite sickness. Or whatever corrupted version of it Din Djarin had quite literally trapped himself into.

While on his own mission, Paz recovered a poorly thrown together carbonite freezer that a petty gang abandoned, with a select few targets within. One of which entombed none other than his own kih’vod. The reason why he described it as ‘a botched job’ was that the alchemical readouts of said carbonite chamber pointed to a tainted solution: not pure in ingredients that typically secure a clean, minimally-invasive freezing process. When you start cutting corners to save costs, you compromise the effectiveness of the flashfreeze. Some sentients did not survive this treatment; though it was a blessing Din clearly did– though not before taking a unique toll. 

Typically, carbonite would blitz your vision, your extremities; make you feel like a ten-ton transport has dragged you across the Dune Sea then set you spinning through a wash cycle, expecting you to walk a few miles blindfolded as a cool down without a single misstep. 

It makes you drowsy– not lose your short-term memory. 

When Din awoke, the questions posed to him concerning what events led him to his present predicament went unanswered. Not from a place of obstinance, but complete confusion. He’s unsatisfied with himself, the frailty he feels. Being stripped of the mind stung equally as bad as if it had his body– which conveniently, was also hurting. 

He got angry, Paz said– furious as to what could have altered his head and made him feel so out-of-body. There were decent chunks of recent days, weeks he claimed he could not recall. That list grew as he couldn’t even say what his last paygrade was, what he’d done with the Guild for the last year, what had become of the covert on Nevarro. When he glanced at a darkly mirrored reflection of himself, he didn’t know how he procured the newer portions of his chromed armor. 

The bad news continued to careen out of control. He didn’t recognize the mudhorn etched on his shoulder; had to ask the Armorer why that creature was added. To her immovable surprise, she sobered at how serious this truly was. He didn’t know his Clan? Of its addition?

He didn’t..--he didn’t know the name Grogu. Never even heard of such a species. 

When shown a holopic of the kid, he simply looked at you and asked if something like that could speak- could maybe answer to what happened to him. That nearly broke you on the spot if the Armorer hadn’t ushered a still-throbbing Din to sit and receive a medical consult and diverted your attention. The whole scene was a heartbreaking one, though Vizsla spared you most of the big questions you wanted to ask by ripping off the emotional bandaids himself.

It was by Paz’s explanation that Din had been told that you were his wife, his riduur. For some strange reason, he accepted that quickly. Explained straight away why you stuck around. But in the hours and days that followed, your partner was far from the cozy and nurturing man you’ve known for so long. Even if he tolerated you, he still appeared to consider you a stranger. You knew why, and therefore didn’t blame him one bit. He was hard enough on himself for his failings on a good day. Getting himself into such a vulnerable situation and having to nurse this blasted headache everyday that barely seemed to let up would naturally only make that self-image worse.  His steps fall heavier, carrying weight unseen. 

It was clear a depression was setting in as the hard first days melted into a week. Into two. The man you loved walked through your shared home as a cold, distant shell of himself, filled to the brim with unspoken anger, confusion, guilt, and lost pain. 

While in your company every day, you led most of the talking- just about practical things. Suggestions when he lost his train of thought, simple choices, graciously avoiding the oliphant in the room by keeping topics in the moment with your usual, helpful nature. It’s your default and, so, hard to break; but for the most part, Din Djarin accepted that too with nods and hums of agreement. He poured himself into some easy reconnaissance missions and errands to try and pull himself out of the dark, but he offered very little depth of dialogue with you, claiming he’s focusing on meditation. Centering himself. 

But you knew better. Centering, introspection– that takes a different form with Din when he’s in a bad headspace. He’s hating himself, punishing: for being a disappointment, to be your problem. 

Though… oddly enough… your nighttime routine had not really changed. That’s the most bittersweet feeling of all of this. 

When it came that first night to talk about your living arrangement, he insisted that nothing change: for you to keep your bed, and he would busy himself elsewhere. But as you both just talked things through about what your next steps should be, sitting side by side against the headboard watching the nightlife stream in through the porthole of your room, your drowsiness took root, and he somehow fell asleep right beside you– as though nothing had changed. 

In the silence of morning, he didn’t speak on it; you carried about your days as before, getting by. But sure enough, when you’d catch up at the end of the day, the same sinking feeling around you would hit at the same hour, you’d lie down, wake with him having never left his side of the bed, and the cycle would repeat. 

A poignant, if painful, reminder of what connection still stood between you– and what little  comfort the universe was offering you in the midst of a horrible situation through your Mandalorian’s touch.

Still, you know it’s not the same. It’s instinctual, not intentional. You don’t cry anymore about it. You’re all sniffled out, though your throat hasn’t gotten the memo. It seizes every time he calls you by name instead of Cyar'ika. 

So here, he sleeps behind you:  seemingly none the wiser about the more amorous nights that bombarded your god-awful, precious memories. These dreams, they keep you awake at all hours of the early morning when even Din’s subconscious cries out to hold you. To allow him to sleep by your side when surely his entire world felt numb and unfamiliar? It was his blessing, and your nightly curse.

A noise, finally. A little catch, high behind your neck- a barely-there attempt to wake up. In trying, he squeezes you in, then settles with a soothed groan. Din’s nuzzling between your shoulders. The scent of your conditioner must be the only thing keeping him in such a drowsy state. On the edge of sleep, he’s still able to make you melt with his rarely-seen gentle nature. 

And despite the circumstances, you laugh at this, softly.

"What are you doing?" you ask of yourself more than him: but he answers…

"Mmmm... y'r warm.."

Now that’s your Din. That’s your Darling talking. 

It’s him… and not. 

"Djar…” you sighed with a catch in your chest, “Honey, wake up."

You’d shown him where he stowed his helmet on the shelf while you slept and that you’d never get up before him, so he didn’t feel exposed. It was torture though– you always woke up before him now and were subject to his snuggly nature: sans the intimacy you once shared by turning into each other. That wouldn’t be fair now, wouldn’t be right, even if it was what you craved the most about mornings with him. For now, you’d face away, until he was ready.

Din stirred again. His limbs gave a quivering squeeze to wakefulness. You knew it the moment he must have opened his eyes, because his breaths seized. He’s aware, then... even more aware.

"Oh,” he broke through his morning voice with a rush, “I'm so sorry-- I was just-"

"It's ok, just relax,” you threw confidence into your voice, “How’s the head?" 

“It um.. It’s ok. Kind of achey.”

“C'mon. Lay down and rest.” You’re selfish and can’t help settling in, "It's not like we have to get up yet. Paz still has the speeder, so we can stick to this side of town until he brings it back."

You held onto his wrist carefully, returning it to its lax spot between your breasts, just where it fits. You just want him lucid; even if he doesn’t hold you as tight as he used to.

After the Grogu holo incident, you couldn’t bear to ask him more about what he does or doesn’t recognize. You couldn’t bear to ask him if he remembered you, and you wouldn’t, even now. How could he, after all? If he didn’t even know the face of his own son, what chance did you have? You’d met him months after taking on his charge. Based on the gap of time Din struggled to remember, you certainly fell within that ocean of nothingness. No, you didn’t bother to ask him things of that nature. You simply accepted his companionship and moved along.

At your word, Din nests back in, presumably to get a few more minutes of sleep. But then, he  breathes in, and you sense it’s not purely therapeutic, the way he’s settled into you. He’s scooted closer, and not to readjust his posture. He’s moved your hair, and not to get it out of his face for his comfort–

He starts– kriff, he’s kissing you. Kissing you like he means it. Little pecks. Your neck, your shoulder, and– you stop him.

"D- babe,- you don't have to,” the warning lights fire off in your brain, holding his wrist firmly now.

Din mumbles more between presses, "I want to.”

"Mando, you-"

"Call me Djarin again."

The way he hushes you, so fekking softly, it sounds like him… dank ferrick. .

Stars, it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. When was this supposed to let up, a vague ‘week or two, come back for a new assessment and we will review the prognosis’? You try to hope he’s feeling more like himself after a good night’s rest, but you can’t really explain this behavior.

Your restraint now is a testament, a promise to protect him as he’s always protected you:

" You’re–” you shoot yourself in the foot and craft the words as they break your heart. “You're not yourself. I can't ignore that. I know it, even if you don't."

You’ll curse this blasted phase in the future, when everything settles and eventually goes back to normal. But this is the one time you’d ever call such tender treatment truly insufferable. He pauses in his affections,

"--No," Din then counters, gentle and curious, "I… I remember this part..."

Remember what? You’ve shown him video still after still when he asks, letting him lead his own recovery journey as he wills. You obviously do your best, but it hurts you– and you’re not so sure he doesn’t notice judging by the sweet ways he apologizes for troubling you. 

You’re sure he’s being kind. "Do you, now."

Facing the wall with empty focus, you kept your sights down, ignoring how he braced himself on one arm and attempted to turn you onto your back. You followed the give of his hand’s press on you, but not much. And of course, you still didn’t look at him. Can’t stomach him revealing himself to you when you assume he’s doing it out of duty; what’s expected of him as an unwilling, ‘newfound’ spouse.

But when he spoke again, the barest of touches skidded along your collarbones, up the neck��

"You were born with these,” Din shares with a reverence. “Here. Little Ones, from the sun. But this: this was an accident. When you were small; your skin was too new."

Your eyes honed on a red traffic light outside– the sight of it mimicked your alarm. He’s brushing a scarline– yes, from a childhood incident you told him about… months ago…

"You really can't see it unless your face turns red. Pretty sure I’ve seen that,” Din trails off, sets to brushing your cheek, “Turns white, against the curve. You get embarrassed, but I remember telling you to quit–”

"--to not worry about it." you finished as a whisper. “Din.”

‘Makes you who you are. Pretty as a picture, meshla. Think of it as a brushstroke, when the Maker was putting on the finishing touches of you.’

He knows. He does know you. He hasn’t forgotten?

Your eyes stung when you tried to blink the memory away. This makes no sense…

"I’m sorry- you remember that…” you shake in awe, “But– not?…"

Grogu?

"I know." His brow furrowed, "or.. rather, I don't."

His hand set atop your bicep– something grounding.

“I want to," he begs of you, "Truly, I want to say I feel like I’m nearly there. If only to convince you to look at me.”

You laid flat the rest of the way. Mostly so you could better hear him and not make him think you’re hiding, but also, you could now reach him more comfortably. 

Bittersweet tenderness braided you two together-- here in an unbelievable turn of events. 

You lifted your eyes to him at last. Din whispers again,

“Angel Eyes…”

The endearment makes you nearly sob. Dammit, he does remember. Relief, grief, it’s all muddy.

"I don't remember my foundling’s name.” you’re crushed at how mournful he sounds, “-which is a sin in its own right…" But he speaks with life-rendering conviction,  "But I know I told you mine. I know where we stood, which light panel on the Crest I turned off, how you- h-how you kissed me back that day.”

Your foreheads touch, the invisible string pulls you to do it. The lids of your eyes shut on contact with the ebb of a hurricane behind your eyes.

“Please use it-" Din asks of you, "-until I can remember all of the rest. Until I can remember every time I have ever told you ‘I loved you’-- and revive it, tenfold."

The tsunami's pressure strikes you down. You bury your sob down your windpipe and lunge for him– to kiss sense into him if it's the last thing you do.

And kiss, you do: for the release, for answers, for solace in an unfair time. For whatever reason, your riduur finds the same comfort, though he is desperate at the other end of the spectrum. You, in knowing a shred of him still exists and rejoicing in that; in him, grasping onto that one fact like it’s the only thing he has.

His entire energy is sad beyond belief, but he looks at you like you're his lifeline when you part. Din wets his lips- masking a tremble by how he bites it. 

"This is the only thing that feels normal. Feels right. I don't understand it…"

The shadow of his humility shines, even as he wallows in his present struggle.

"You'll get there,” you swore through tears- not all of them sad anymore. “If this is any proof, you'll get there. Won’t last forever."

You share another kiss for healing. By how his brows seem to even out, you wonder if it’s actually helping to ease the pain after all. It’s firm, longing. It’s all you have to give him.

Din looks you over as he’s in close proximity- refamiliarizing himself with every high point in your face, every contour, and gives a genuine smile. 

“Pretty sure…” he worked through the whirl of ideas behind that dreamy gaze, “... had a dream about that kid. Kept taking that– did he try to take the gear shift off the Crest? Y’know, the ball end? Think it was a toy?”

And finally: you laughed for the first time in weeks. 

“Yes, he did! It’s the one thing that survived the crash!” you burst into happy tears. “Oh my God, I can’t believe it~ see? You’re–”

"You haven't laughed. Not in days," Din interrupts– "I like it when you laugh."

You hear it once more, plain as day:

I love hearing you laugh.

–like it was yesterday…

"I know you do." you calm yourself. "Maybe one of these days, you'll remember how you bring it out of me."

He considers you, and a funny little aire of critique passes across his face.

“Something tells me that’s not hard to do. I’ll try my best,” he scrunches his perfect nose, “M’not a comedian though, fair warning. ”

“That’s ok. It’s your delivery that’s the funniest part. Munchkin thinks so,” you reminded with hope. You worded it like a question, hoping Din would visualize the instance easier if you made it sound casual. 

“Seems to favor testing me, more like– what you've told me so far.” Din trails off on his own. His brow twitches, showing his head may be pulsing, but he’s fighting through it. “Better be one to mind his manners the next time we see him. Wonder if the Jedi teach that, too.”

Understanding just how many times he'd looked your way expressionless under the guise of armor, he'd learned the benefits of using words when you came into his life and makeshift home. It was a change of perspective that was all too necessary; that he could truly speak his mind and that you would listen anytime- day or night. The way he communicated was truly poetic once he felt comfortable to release the matters of his heart through his mouth. 

So now, even when his mind has split and you were left to patiently wait out for his memories to return in full force, you'd simply hold his hand and keep the anchor set so his heartstrings could untangle themselves.

You smile despite the gap in understanding the gravity of what he'd just spoken- that Grogu was with a Jedi without hope of any visitation date that you knew of. It's still so hard without him– another pain you feel that you're shouldering alone…

��Have I said that before?" Din's flare of insecurity flared like the ebb of his headache. "I'm not making things easier by opening my damn mouth, am I…”

You sift the thoughts away, out from the forefront, "No…" you say, to ease his worry. 

You're reminded of how much he is still the same Din. The power of his gentle words and the potency of laughter: the best medicine he could take. With knowing tears lining your eyes, you answered with a massage to his temple,

“It just means more, coming from you."

Translations:

Mesh’la, cyar’ika = Beautiful, sweetheart. Ka'ra jaon'kov, cuy’gar mesh’la = Stars above, you're beautiful. B’d jate = So (good) Jatne o'r ner sur'haai = Perfect (good, superlative) in my eyes. Rejorhaa'ir ni = Tell me Ni ganar’e, cyare = I have you, my sweetheart

[astrum-aetherium]

Henry's been living rent free in my head since I read TSH like four months ago- I cannot stop thinking about him and your blog is single handedly fueling my obsession with him so thank you so much really.

Anyways- I know Henry is definitely not the soft type of guy, but I do believe he could get just a tiny little bit softer than he usually is (sparingly) were he to find a person he really liked?? This is probably just my guilty and mostly out of character pleasure, but imagining him being all cold and harsh as he is for the most part and then suddenly doing or saying that one unexpectedly tender thing out of nowhere (even in a nsfw context, that's even better) and then going back to his usual self in a heartbeat makes me go uughhh

i wholeheartedly agree with you. on so many levels. it's very easy to cross the utterly restrictive OOC boundaries when speaking/writing about him, since all we seem to know is how stoic and cool and constantly displeased he is (although i could impugn this very well — take the glass shard scene or his staying at the hospital with richard as an example).

us as readers, we cannot help but crave a little softness from him sometimes, and i understand that completely. i'm always willing to indulge us all in a scenario like that. in a better world, on slightly OOC premises, he would make an evidently detached, but caring partner. coincidentally, i have been thinking about just that for the past couple of days, despite formerly being convinced it would be entirely impossible to conduct a healthy relationship with that man (which, yeah, if we strictly stick to canon, it still would be, but that's the beauty about fiction — we get to brush past and alter some things to our enjoyment).

therefore, yes — with the opportunity to alter his character just a tiny bit, i believe he would let his soft side flash every now and again. i don't think it would be in any form of physical touch, however, as he certainly isn't one to put his feelings on display, especially in public (in private, however, that'd be a completely different story). it would mostly be symbolic with him. for instance, imagine it being your birthday. as your partner, he would know you inside and out — he is highly attentive and perceptive, especially when it comes to those closest to him, and he would absolutely be well-versed in anything that you might like, or mention liking. he would know. loving is knowing. therefore, for your birthday, he would not only think of and buy you the best and most thoughtful present imaginable, but he would also buy five more to give to the rest of the group under the pretense of "i know her/him/them better than all of you combined, which is why all of your gifts have already been taken care of".

that is how his affection would shine through — acts of service. being spoiled by him is another tremendous part of that. i have already approached this topic in two previous posts, but to summarize: he absolutely would be willing to spoil you in any way imaginable, as it would be the only plausible way for him to prove the depth of his feelings for you (along with kisses and other physical endeavors, which would exclusively be saved for private settings).

in addition, i feel like he would let himself be swayed more and more despite his dogmatic position, meaning he would be willing to comply or enter compromises, especially for you. orrr... to approach the aspect of him portraying the merest smidge of sweetness and immediately reverting to his stoic self — imagine a strand of hair having fallen loose from your hairstyle, or it simply veiling your hair too much, to the point where he would press the book he might be holding under his arm mid-conversation and brush it aside for you with a light smile, only to immediately proceed with whatever it is he had been occupied by previously.

from a nsfw standpoint, his care would mostly show in his being very forthcoming and reassuring to you (asking for consent, asking if you're in any discomfort during a position, checking up on you during rougher activity), and aftercare (bringing you towels/water/a cigarette (lol), proposing to go pee, holding you on occasion if matters had been overly rough and you might still be trembling).

he would also totally be the type to run his fingers through your hair and even play with it. i don't care how OOC some people believe this to be — i need it. sometimes a girl just needs something of the sort.

[ilikehaikyuu1]

MW2 Characters headcannons!

Hello! I love all MW2 characters so why not do headcannons? Most of these are inspired by ones I've seen on Tumblr or TikTok!

<3𝙋𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙚<3

<3 You know this man SNORES

< 3 His beard has its own self-care routine like he takes better care of it than most things.

<3 He LOVES to be pampered after a mission and loves a nice shoulder rub with a fire going with a cigar and some bourbon.

<3 Lowkey feels like he would be really good at pool or any drinking game from when he was younger.

<3 Considers 141 to be family to him often uses the quote "Family doesn't have to stop at relatives."

<3 LOVES sleeping in with his partner, especially after a tough mission and just needs the love of his life and his comfy bed. (This man is absolutely a cuddle bug I DON'T MAKE THE RULES)

<3𝓖𝓪𝔃<3

<3 This man is every girl's DREAM (especially mine) He is such a gentleman opening doors for you, getting flowers, and paying for everything.

<3 Horror movie FAN. Loves a good horror movie/sex combo.

<3 Type of man to tease you but MELT when you do it back.

<3 Probably has a collection of weird things from when he was younger.

<3 loves listening to 50's songs with you in the early morning slowly swaying.

<3 Loves gossiping with you over anything.

<3 Every Friday night he goes drinking with 141 it's just tradition.

<3𝕊𝕠𝕒𝕡<3

<3 Just like Gaz this man is a GENTLEMAN.

<3 Type of drunk person to yell the most offensive shit.

<3 Can't smoke to save his life he'd lose a lung.

<3 Constantly cracking jokes and picks up lines.

<3 Speaking of pick-up lines THIS MAN says the most wild ass pick-up lines just to make you smile.

<3 Hm and Gaz are inseparable as if they were twins.

<3𝓐𝓵𝓮𝓳𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓸<3

<3 This man's love language is Physical Touch and LOVES being able to touch you. (Take that how you will.)

<3 Wakes up early even when exhausted to make you breakfast in bed.

<3 Type of man to make you bubble baths after sex.

<3 Him and Rudy are best friends which means they share. (ALSO take that information as you will.)

<3 Secretly listens to Doja Cat.

<3 Often gets insecure about his forehead.

<3Ｒｕｄｙ<3

<3 Sweetest partner ever but sucks at flirting.

<3 Loves baked goods and loves them even more if you bake them together.

<3 Love dancing to Spanish songs with you.

<3 Service dom honestly.

<3 Loves a good ol' beer.

<3 Every time he goes out he ALWAYS gets you something your closet is filed with stuff he gets. (And fridge)

<3𝙶𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚎𝚜<3

<3 SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOYYY

<3 LIVES ON A FARM.

<3 Can be possessive and gets jealous easily (You're just that beautiful/handsome.)

<3 Loves to go horseback riding with you.

<3 Shares you with the Shadows

<3 Is a SUGAR DADDY loves spoiling you but expects payment back.

<3𝚅𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚊<3

<3 This woman is POSSESSIVE

<3 Hides you from others only a few people know about you, especially your relationship.

<3 Secretly has a sweet side with you.

<3 Has a collection of valuable beanie babies.

<3 Can drink ANYONE under the table.

<3 Feeds stray cats

<3Ghð§†<3

<3 Strong but silent type

<3 Has a difficult time opening up but when he does shut up and LISTEN.

<3 Isn't used to physical touch but once he does he can't stop touching you

<3 Always asking for consent "Can I touch you luv?" "Does it feel good when I do this?"

<3 Loves a good story and tea time.

<3 Loves close and slow sex. (I wouldn't say he really likes rough sex but there are a few kinks here and there.)

This is the end! Thank you reading if you want me to do anymore or anyone please dm!

[bitacrytic]

Do Vegas really calls Pete as baby, or pet or love after they get together ? He does talks in love language to his pet hedgehog ' did I scare you buddy '; but baby to Pete??

I read these nicknames a lot in very much canon compliant fics..

What would be Pete reaction when Vegas called him baby for first time?

And the one where he asks for consent, shows thankfulness and gives verbal affection in lots of fics. Is that in character for him? It seems Vegas sucks with words,he shows physical affection and never realises if his words hurts other until Pete snaps .

Apparently him turning a green flag to Pete in itself doesn't seem canon. He would still be red with mix of sweetness ( cooking and all) but what kind of red flag qualities he'll have after getting Pete?

In short how Vegas treats Pete after they get together?

Pet names? Nope. Vegas already said he's not into that. Pete is not his pet. So I doubt he'll be treating Pete the way he used to treat his hedgehog!!!

Truth be told, I don't think Pete would mind. I mean, he doesn't expressly like it. But he was willing to make that concession for Vegas. He went on his knees and asked for it. So I can see Pete just shrugging and going along with it. But I doubt Vegas would ever do it in the first place. Nor, would he want to.

Physical affection, such as cooking, gifts, cuddling???? YES!!! Vegas wasn't healed or even able to sit up and the first thing this silly man wanted to do was kiss Pete. Yeah, he'll be a big cuddler. Gifts??? He will spoil Pete. I can see Pete being exasperated by this. I can also see him giving up and just accepting all the gifts.

Vegas being a green flag is 50-50.

He will be learning as he goes. He only changed the pet thing because he saw Pete's reaction. I don't think he'd make a complete 180 on everything else unless he receives a negative reaction. I feel like he'd fuck up, constantly. Vegas is not a good man. This will not change overnight.

If we go back to how Vegas was with Porsche, we will see signs of what he can be in a relationship. He adapts to what the person wants or needs. Which is cute and all. But with time, it makes everything he does questionable.

Vegas showed up with a lighter when Porsche wanted one. He showed up with a bike and a shoulder to cry on when Porsche wanted one. After he'd assaulted Porsche and he knew Porsche was weary of him, he showed up with drinks and a story about, "if I have to die... blah blah blah."

He learns. And he's very quick with it. He will learn what Pete wants, because he cares about Pete. But that would be the problem. Because he's doing things for Pete, not because he believes they're the best thing to do.

That doesn't sound like much of a distinction. But they are the difference between your boyfriend asking for consent because he believes you should consent, and you boyfriend asking for consent because it's just something he's supposed to do.

Vegas will try his best. No doubt. But his red flags will remain. His entitlement. His manipulation and all that jazz. I didn't say his murderous behaviour, because we all know that Pete doesn't consider murder a bad thing. In fact, I'm pretty sure Vegas doesn't change for anyone else but Pete. He stays exactly the same.

He doesn't suddenly start doing charity work or get rid of his dungeons. He doesn't stop being vindictive and all that.

But... he will make an effort to be the best boyfriend he can be for Pete.

[ilikereadingactually]

Translation State

Translation State by Ann Leckie

LOVED! THIS! BOOK! i think the first three books of the series are still my favorites, but this one also really blew me away! it's doing some cool things the series has done before--more gender and pronoun delights, more examination of what makes a person human or not and what makes a person themself, both philosophically and legally--and it's also dipping into conceptions of family, and ethnic discrimination and political struggle, and rape culture and consent, and what it means to come of age in a deeper sense than chronological. and holy shit, very cool xenobiology and alien methods of travel, too!!

we get three POV characters in this book, which Leckie wields so skillfully to contrast events and create little cliffhangers and ramp up tension, and all three characters are delightful. each storyline is intriguing from the first moments, and by the end i loved these characters all deeply. i was also delighted to see the return of Leckie's really carefully scaffolded chains of events--none that actually surprised me, but they're not meant to be surprising, they're meant to make clear the ways in which small individual choices have unknown effects down the road.

and when the storylines all satisfyingly combine, we start to get cameos as well! what i think of as sort of general cameos, like Radchaai characters turning up misgendering everyone and imposing their tea preferences on all the coffee drinkers--some are not characters we've met before, but it's wonderful to me every time to get that little hit of familiarity from the culture we learn first and best in the series. and actual returning characters as well, either showing up or being mentioned, from the Ancillary books and from Provenance! i won't spoil any surprises, but i spent a lot of the last fourth of the book yelling out loud.

overall this book felt a little more viscerally intense than any of the others, still made me weep, raised more questions for (one can only hope) future books, and made me extremely happy in literary and fannish ways.

the deets

how i read it: as you can see from the photo, i actually picked this one up from my local library! bless them for having a copy, the wait for the ebook was very long. excited for the paperback to come out so i can add it to my growing collection.

try this if you: again, if you liked the other books, read this one!!! i don't think it would make sense without the rest of the series, frankly. but especially make your way through the series to this one if you are into families of choice, space politics and legal drama, and fantastically horrifying and weird alien culture shock.

maybe not for you if: you need to avoid stories involving rape, vivisection, cannibalism, and alien body horror. none of these are hugely graphic portions of the book, it's more thematic, but for me this was a slightly higher-intensity level than the more generalized moral horrors of the other books.

some lines i really liked: how the hell do i choose?? but there are so many good lines that would spoil my favorite cameo, i will leave those out.

"Oh, it gets worse than that," said the jurist. "There's every likelihood any petitions their jurists submit will be full of nonsense about how the Presger don't really exist and were just made up by the Radchaai so they can secretly control every other system authority." Enae frowned. "I don't think the Radchaai need to control anything secretly?" The jurist raised eir hands in agreement--or maybe surrender.

---

"Your Teacher will tell you what to do with this," the Translator said, hefting the potato and setting it down on the table between us. It hummed pleasantly, a wide, smooth-feeling sensation. Beside it, the heap of seeds--longer than the radish seeds, narrow and pointed at one end--chorused brightly. I wondered what they would grow into.

---

Ambassador Seimet closed her eyes. "Amaat give me strength," she murmured. And then, opening her eyes again, said, "Did you listen to a word I just said?"

---

He returned to the cushion fortress in the bed, with a plate of dumplings and a flask of tea. "Oh," said Qven, stirring. "Teacher won't be pleased about dumplings in bed." "Fuck Teacher," Reet replied, and climbed into his side of the construction. "I don't want to do that," said Qven, taking the plate of dumplings from him before it could spill.

[lunarscaled]

[TXT] It's yer birthday today, aye? [TXT] Going to keep this short and minimally awkward...

[ There is a notable delay between messages, as well as a good five minutes of him showing as typing, stopping, and then typing again. ]

[TXT] Ah'm a bastard who didnae get ye anythin', nae surprise. [TXT] But...

[ Another delay. ]

[TXT] Ah could get a hotel room set up. [TXT] If ye would take bein' spoiled as a good enough gift...? [TXT] Also, want tae. O' course. [TXT] Dinnae have anythin' else, really. Nae quite sure even in ideas what ah could get ye or do. [TXT] It's yer birthday. Yer choice.

[ ... pause ... ]

[TXT] Y/N? [TXT] Also. Clarifying it's always yer choice. In the sense it's necessary we are both sayin' aye. [TXT] Because it's... [TXT] listen, would ye accept a birthday fuck or nae

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LYRIC

-> They sit in their desk chair with one leg bent up close to their chest and the other dangling loose, heel dragged against the carpeted floor of their apartment dwelling when they shift it just enough to get the leverage to unfurl themselves from their cramped up position of pen-in-mouth and bookmark between their fingers while reading. The light up of their phone screen is the only thing that pulls their focus away for even a moment, not because Lyric was overly attached to their phone, but because those who possessed their number were exceptionally few and those who would message them so late in the evening even fewer still.

Which meant it could only be one person.

-> They want to say that opening with his desire to prevent things from being awkward did, in fact, make things more awkward. Neither of them were particularly graceful in this dance---though all the factors were right ( the mutual consent of both parties, a certain amount of bodily chemistry, a familiarity with each other that prevented upsetting boundary pushing or potentially hazardous miscommunication, to name a few ) they could never seem to shake themselves free of the awkwardness of a first invitation. Though Lyric has never declined, and Anderson has never recinded, each act as though they are a moment away from the whole thing collapsing like a card house. Maybe they wish it would. Maybe they both hope something irrevocably awful would happen because neither of them can bear the weight of a single thing in their lives that did not constantly martyr and dissect them until they were so weary they could not so much as lift their heads. Maybe they hope something bad will happen, because something always does, and they're just waiting for what feels inevitable.

[SMS]: you're not obligated to get me a birthday gift because we know each other.

-> They think he's projecting in some way, if not about himself then about someone else. Did it matter, a present? Was it important? Lyric put their life on the line every day and he worries about a birthday gift? They imagine him opening and closing his hands, empty and anxious, facing them but his eyes turned away. When he sometimes found them working in the library late at night by the light of a single lamp and a full moon, he hovered as if trying to usher them to bed without saying anything. When he blooms flowers that repel demons from stifling a laugh at a ridiculous, poor joke, they think he is a gentle man who has been through hell. They think he deserves to be loved equally as gently. ( they think he deserves better than Alucard, and better than them to warm his bed. )

I don't think I could take being spoiled by you they want to say, Being treated too gently might scatter me to pieces. But they don't say that---how could they? The thought of crying in front of him for any reason closes up their throat. ( not to imply Anderson was not careful down to the finest detail; Lyric had certainly come away sore or with a vague ache in a muscle they forgot they had some handful of times, but they had never hurt intentionally ) They're sure he means it well. Somewhere nice---maybe a little fancy, where they leave little chocolates on the pillows and have hotel breakfasts, though Lyric rarely stays that long. They had a habit of being the first to rush away; it was a very minor point of contention with Anderson, who desired the comfort of physical contact after all was said and done, and Lyric had to heel themselves to keep from leaving in a hurry of shower and clothes and cigarette smoke. ( it felt wrong somewhere in their lungs. anxious. they didn't know how to allow themselves to be held or to hold someone else when they couldn't hide behind something. maybe they were afraid he would notice something he didn't like after all. )

[SMS]: you wanna spoil me now, huh?

[SMS]: I'm not a pretty call boy, you know. there's not a discount for being too nice to me.

-> They're no better about avoiding the question, are they? Tiptoeing around it like they hadn't passively made up their mind when he chose to ask. ( they weren't doing anything else. the psychological and physical benefits of occasionally undergoing sexual release were positive ones. it comforted Anderson to have a partner who he knew rather than a stranger, which Lyric tells themselves is none of their business and yet they still list it as a benefit. he was aesthetically attractive and good at it in a way that's almost embarrassing to think about. another benefit. )

[SMS]: sure. I'm not busy.

[SMS]: don't twist yourself up about getting a real fancy place. just somewhere normal is fine.

[SMS]: but if you wanna dress up nicely I won't turn it down. you almost never wear anything but your Iscariot garb, so I'd take that as a treat.

[claireelizabethsblog]

~September & October's Books Reviewed~

So, as one might be able to guess, it's been two rather slow months of reading... or rather there was a period of slowness in the middle as in theory I read one book in September, had a moment and then read two very quickly at the end of October. Rather than having two very mini posts though, I felt it was better to have one at least vaguely substantial one! So yes, here is September and October combined!

Bewitched by Laura Thelssa

(443 pages)

Objectively, and subjectively, crap. I try not to unreasonably bash on books since I know that just because I didn't enjoy it doesn't mean others wouldn't, and vice versa. For example, I know that many of the books I love and have reread several times are objectively not that great, and similarly, having looked at this book on Goodreads I know lots of people love this book and the authors style. I, unfortunately, am not one of them. I really didn't enjoy any of the characters, nor their relationships, and the plot wasn't nearly engaging enough for me to forget about that. As such, I would easily say this was the worst book I've read in a long time (or certainly the least enjoyable reading experience I've had). That being said, if you're into supernatural romances and willing to look past some morally grey situations then you might enjoy this more than me. It is 100% an 18+ book (you have been warned), and also, I really struggled with the dubious consent throughout it in regards to the main relationship, just to also put that warning out there. I think based off this review it can be no surprise to anyone that...

I gave this book 1 star ⭐

Four Seasons in Japan by Nick Bradley

(326 pages - hardback)

I'm contrast to the previous book (which can maybe be blamed for my break in traditional literature for a hot minute there), I really really enjoyed this book! It was rather different from the usual books I'd pickup, but I'd seen it recommended everywhere and I have to say it was everything I was needing from a book in this grey autumnal time. It was really gentle and comforting and just all around gentle. I did find the ending a little sudden, and I was waiting for the two storylines to become a little more interwoven to be honest (or at least the two principal characters from the two storylines - although I understand that they realistically couldn't actually, I was just waiting for a bit of a plot twist in the reveal of the characters I think - I realise that isn't very clear but I don't want to spoil it for anyone!). However, like I said, I truly loved this book, I wish I had read it quicker, or at least all in one go rather than starting and then accidentally taking an extended break from it because then I think it could even have been in contention for a full five star rating! I would really recommend this book to the majority of people, I've recommended it already to both my mother and my flatmate, two people with very different tastes in books generally, so that should be testament to the overall easy feeling and gorgeous prose of this book that I think makes it very accessible and enjoyable to a large audience.

I gave this book 4 stars ⭐⭐️⭐️⭐️

Yellowface by Rebecca F. Kuang

(322 pages - hardback)

I finished this book and felt weirdly chilled and illeasy. It definitely freaked me out in a very subtle manner. It is incredibly well written and you have no way of knowing who to root for, or even what to believe at times. It raises so many important moral questions, especially around racism and xenophobia, as well as around ownership and intellectual property. I think that's in many ways why it left you feeling weirdly uncomfortable at points as it forced you to confront a lot of unfairness and the corrupt nature of society that is still so prevalent and ingrained. I also especially enjoyed it for its setting in the publishing world which is obviously my own industry. It was largely very accurate about a lot of the technical sides of the industry, however I am thankful to say that my experiences on the other side of the industry from Juniper have not been nearly as fraught or riddled with controversy!

I gave this book 4.5 stars ⭐⭐️⭐️⭐️🌗

[daebreaker1]

hello i saw the twst character list.. and i wanted to ask the reasoning behind ortho and idia 😭😭 i'm curious how they got such a low ranking.

Yea, definitely not a problem! This is the one that I was honestly expecting to be asked. Also fun fact: you can tell how rapidly my opinion switched on them, because if you count all the human students in S and A you get eight. These two legitimately used to be in my top 10.

Here is a short blurb, for those who do not want a full backstory, or do not feel comfortable with things mentioned in it: I have a semi-rare medical condition that requires testing. Because of some less than stellar experiences getting these, Ortho and Idia remind me of them and it currently makes me extremely uncomfortable. As of now I do not think they can be redeemed in my eyes, but I will try.

Under the cut is the full story, read at your own discretion. Mentions of medical treatment and forced restraint below. ALSO: If you think you know what condition I have, do NOT mention it. I will block you.

So I have a slightly rare medical condition, rare enough that if you are not a specialist in a field affected by it you probably don't know what it is. I am not going to mention it by name, because I know exactly what happens when I do and how people get and I don't want to deal with that on my blog. Part of that means that whenever I go to a new place for care, there is a revolving door of doctors and nurses who have questions. Makes you feel kinda like a guinea pig, even if they aren't necessarily doing anything bad. But because of this a lot of my early life involved being shuttled off to appointments I really did not want to go to, and having to do all kinds of tests, and I still am supposed to now though significantly less. These tests themselves mostly did not cause issues, just a little bit of humiliation because most of them had to be preformed semi in public (aka the hallway) because of worries about my mobility, and feeling eyes on you from doctors, nurses, and occasionally just random people walking to their exam room is really uncomfortable. However, the bigger issue is what the testing that they have to do on my eyes. They have to do a few extra tests to make sure that my eyes have no problems with them, however things at or near my eyes has always been extremely hard for my anxiety. Because of this, I have had to be physically held down and restrained during them. And I dunno. A lot of this leads me to feeling really REALLY uncomfortable at the sheer amount of lack of consent (because consent given under duress is not consent and contracts signed under duress are also not always legally binding) just makes me feel small and reminds me of screaming and begging to stop and being completely ignored. I know that having your magic cut off, and being physically restrained are two very different things but I just can't stop thinking of it and it has really spoiled my feelings on the two.

I am trying to cope with these feelings and put them out in a healthy way in a fan fiction (which is just how I cope.) I genuinely DO hope I can find some form of redeemability for them, but as of this moment, with the amount of hate and genuine loathing for the both of them I feel, I don't think it's possible.

[asonofpeter]

Prince Charming

Pairing: Dark!Best Friend!Mob!Peter Parker x Barnes!Reader

Summary: After your father can no longer protect you, you are arranged to marry your best friend.

Warnings: sexism, misogyny, talks and mentions of the mob/gangs, arranged marriage, mentions of killing, bullying and blood mentions in flashbacks, Reader is spoiled, mentions of anxiety and nervousness, smut (18+) MINORS DNI, face sitting, oral f receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), loss of virginity, breeding kink, housewife kink?, although this is a dark fic, all smut will be consensual, still your media consumption is your own, read warnings before proceeding

Word Count: 12092

A/N: I'm finally back! I've been working on this for a while and I'm so happy I finally wrote it! I honestly thought this was going to be 5k words yet here we are lol! I hope you all like it! Enjoy! 💕💕💕

Disclaimer: Reader is adopted by Bucky Barnes in this story, she is not biologically related to him. The photos used in the moodboard are also just my depiction of Reader and do not translate to how she is described in the story.

My work should not be copied, reposted, or translated with out my permission; I don't consent to it.

Peter walked along behind you, replying to emails and messages, and even answering a call once while you browse the many selections of luxury shoes. He nodded and hummed to each pair you liked and was glad when you finally selected a few to try on.

Breathing out a laugh, he loved the way your eyes sparkled when you kicked your current heels off and tried the new ones. Some were it and others not, but Peter was more than happy to share his opinion.

Especially when you kindly ask for it.

“I think these are cute,” you smiled, modeling the cheetah print red-bottoms to your best friend. “What do you think?”

He sat comfortably on the white leather bench they had in the middle of the store. His legs spread out wide while he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. You studied him as he thought about your choice of footwear.

Eyes were squinted in thought as he recalled all the other pairs you tried on. He knew which ones you already had on your list to purchase, you did have your father’s money to spend after all. And he knew what pairs you already owned, cheetah print not being one of them.

“The white ones seem more like you,” he referred to the last pair you tried on, rubbing his hand along his thigh as he straightened up a bit.

You liked those too, figured you could pair them with a nice dress or skirt. On the other hand, the cheetah print ones were fun and something you didn’t necessarily choose.

“But what about these?” you asked once more, wanting to know his exact opinion on the current heel you wore.

“I like them too,” he answered, breathing out a sigh, he knew you already had your heart set on getting those as well. “But, they’re not you,” he shrugged, a frown forming on your face when the words slipped past his lips.

Peter was always brutally honest when it came to what looked good on you. Hell, he had amazing taste and over the years you’ve come to realize he had a preference in what you wore.

“What do you mean?” you asked, brows furrowed, you glanced back down at the shoes, wondering how they’re not you. You loved heels, they were totally you.

“I just can’t picture you wearing them,” he explained, offering a small smile to deflate the blow. “But they are nice,” he added, seeing that he kinda hurt you.

The crease in your forehead only grew as you studied them in the mirror again, shifting from one foot and angling them in different positions. They were cute, dainty, and stylish- they checked all the boxes of your criteria, so how could Peter not see you wearing them?

Glancing back at Peter, he stared at you. He was waiting for you to make your decision and now seeing as he gave you his honest opinion, you considered that maybe he was right. He wouldn’t waste his breath if it weren’t true.

They just weren’t you.

“I’m not gonna get them,” you confirmed, reaching to take them off. “I’ll just get the white ones and the mauve,” you said, putting them back in the box, ready to return them to the kind saleswoman.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he stood up, blocking you from walking to the cash register. “I’m sorry, let me buy them for you,” he gently took the box from you.

“I’m not going to let you do that, I made up my mind already,” you argued, trying to grab the shoebox back, but he held it out of your reach.

“Princess,” he cooed, eyes softening as he stared at you. He smiled when you grew coy, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear while you cleared your throat. “I’m buying you these shoes,” he said in a more demanding tone.

“Okay,” you agreed defeatedly.

He passed you a smile before he helped you with the other shoes. The kind saleswoman waited patiently for the two of you, most likely knowing who Peter is and who your father is.

But she presented a warm smile when Peter slid the box of the cheetah print shoes over to her, her delicate hands placing them in a bag while adding them to the transaction.

“I’d also like to buy these as well,” he placed a hand on the two other boxes, the lady nodding all-knowingly before she read out the total amount, your stomach dropping- you couldn’t let Peter buy you three pairs of shoes.

“Peter,” you reached for his hand that already had his black card at the ready. “I just said the one pair,” you looked at him warily.

“Don’t worry about it, princess,” he waved you off, inserting his card before signing, the purchase complete.

Grabbing the bags from the counter, he gathered them along with the other bags you’ve collected from your purchase in previous stores and walked along your side out of the store.

“You’re too kind to me, Peter,” you finally said while you adjusted the few small bags in your hand, the bustling streets of New York filled your ears as you made it back to the car. He kindly opened the door for you before placing the bags in the back of his Lamborghini. “Where to now?”

“Unfortunately, princess, I have a meeting to attend with your father in an hour,” he sighed, shutting the door after him as he checked his watch for the time. “But I had fun as always,” he smiled genuinely, starting the car up.

“We have enough time for brunch,” you shrugged, passing him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I guess we do,” he breathed out a laugh when you squealed from excitement.

~~~~~

Seated outside the cute little restaurant in New York, the late morning sun shone on both of you. You read the menu, unsure of what to get. Usually, when it came time for brunch, you had more of a sweet tooth so your eyes were focused on the pastry section.

“Do you think you’re going to the gala this weekend? We missed you at the last one,” Peter questioned, pulling you from your thoughts.

Peeking over the menu, you caught him staring at you, wearing that adorable bright smile that sent butterflies to your stomach each time. Although, you always ignored them.

He was your best friend and your father’s ally- you couldn’t interfere with business.

“Yeah,” you sighed, placing the menu down. “It’s gonna be boring as always though, especially since you always leave me,” you leaned back in your seat, crossing your knees over the other under the table.

Galas were never an unusual occurrence in your life. One thrown almost every week for something you didn’t care enough to remember. Even though you had no intentions of joining the mob, being the daughter of Bucky Barnes made it difficult to separate that part from your life.

He was the most notorious man in all of New York, branded for his metal arm that he may or may not use to choke the life out of his victims. But underneath that emotionless thick layer was your loving father.

The man that adopted you as a baby and raised you as his. He cherished you, made you his whole world. Which led to the woman you are now.

“But the time I’m with you is always enjoyable,” Peter pointed out, sending you a toothy grin.

“You’re going to be busy networking with other mob leaders the majority of the time, I’m with you for like five minutes,” you stated, a chuckle ringing from him. “Besides, don’t you think it’s time you bring someone other than your friend?” you raised a brow, earning another chuckle from Peter.

“What are you trying to say?” he rested one hand on the table, fingertips centimeters from yours. His calloused hands are a complete juxtaposition from your perfectly manicured ones.

“That it’s time for you to get a girlfriend,” you answered, raising your brows and you reached your hand an inch forward to grasp his hand. “You need someone to ground you back to Earth when you get all hot-headed from work,” you joked, Peter rolled his eyes at your comment.

You saw the way he wanted to avoid this topic. You’ve brought it up countless times when you’ve realized he’s never been in a committed relationship. Even though you seem to have the same problem… but Peter was your main concern right now.

He only stared at your hand for what seemed like forever, but his eyes landed on yours only a few moments later.

“I have you for that, you ground me and I love having you as my date,” he affirmed. “Besides, what about you?” he cocked a brow, catching you off guard.

“Well, my time hasn’t come yet,” you said, shrugging, pulling your hand away.

His hand lingered on the spot yours was seconds ago before he cleared his throat, pulling it back near him.

“Waiting for the right guy, y’know?” you added and he nodded slightly.

Playing the waiting game was your forte. Someday you wish you’ll meet your Prince Charming. A man that will provide for you and protect you, be an amazing father to your children, and give you the respect you deserve.

Some days it seemed like that time would never arrive.

“What if mine hasn’t arrived either?” he tilted his head to the side. “Or maybe I’m just trying to play my cards right?” he shrugged, a glint in his eyes when you smiled wider.

Of course, you said to yourself, head bursting with excitement.

“Who is she?” your eyes lit up at the mention that he might have a girlfriend. “Do I know her? Is she cute? She’s probably cute,” you rambled on, telling him you have to meet her one day, Peter only laughed across the table.

“You know her,” he nodded. “But that’s all I’m going to say,” he stated firmly.

“No, don’t leave me hanging like that,” you whined, Peter shook his head not saying another word.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he partially apologized.

“You’re going to have to stop calling me that if you ever want to get a girlfriend,” you cocked a brow, Peter’s brows raising in amusement.

“Not on my list of priorities, princess,” he grinned before sipping his mimosa.

It was your turn to roll your eyes, the name he’s been calling you since high school made your stomach flutter. But you were willing to let go of the nickname if that meant he finally settled down, even as much as you would miss the way it fell from his lips.

~~~~~

In the following days, Peter had taken you dress shopping for the upcoming gala this week. You ended up picking one that would go perfectly with the mauve shoes you bought earlier. And with Peter being your second mind of judgment, you were quite happy with the selection.

Twirling in your new dress, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, recalling the events that took place only days ago.

“Wow, princess, that’s by far my favorite,” he sat up when you pulled the curtain of the changing room back. His face radiated with admiration and his compliment made your cheeks burn.

“I love it,” you admired yourself in the mirror, loving how the material sat perfectly on top of your assets. “But I’m torn between this one and the brown one,” you huffed. “And I’ve already reached my limit for the week, Dad’s not going to be happy about that,” you bit your lip in thought.

“Let me buy them for you, wear the other one for another day” he proposed. “Mind as well treat my date right,” he stood up, stepping onto the platform to meet you. “Gotta have her in the prettiest dress,” he grabbed your hand, guiding you into a spin.

“You’d do that for me?” you gazed at him, faces inches apart.

“I’d do anything for you,” he grinned, eyes darting to your lips for a quick second.

You loved Peter with all your heart. He was sweet, caring, smart, and charming. There weren’t many men like him and you felt envious of the woman who was going to end up with him. But you just prayed and hoped that the man you fall in love with is just an ounce like him.

For now, though, you’ll be enjoying Peter being your date to events, feeling safe in his arm wrapped around your waist.

“Doll, you look beautiful,” your father smiled as you made your way down the stairs. “Is that a new dress?” he asked, taking your hand to help you with the last step.

“Peter bought it for me a few days ago,” you smiled, letting him place your fur shawl on your shoulders before looping your arm with his.

The way your father’s eyes lit up at the mention of your best friend was always amusing to you. There weren’t many people he liked, but Peter was able to place himself at the top of the list. From the beginning of your friendship in high school, after he beat up a boy for making fun of you, your dad knew Peter had to be kept around.

And he did, from that moment to college to now- your father has always seen Peter as your protector for when he wasn’t around. Not to mention the fact that Peter also came from a wealthy family and now is the leader for the Parker mob- it was impressive in his eyes.

Reminds him of when he was young.

“He’s a good man, I tell you,” he patted your hand. “I’d be lucky if I get to call him my son-in-law one day,” he sent you a look but you playfully rolled your eyes.

“He’s my best friend, Dad, nothing more,” you cocked a brow, stepping inside the elevator of the penthouse before you made your way downstairs where the chauffeur awaited the two of you.

The brisk air still shocked you even after living in New York for so long. The transition from winter to spring left some really warm mornings to colder nights. But as soon as you sat in the car, you relaxed when the warm air surrounded you.

Passing the buildings and skyscrapers of the city, the bright luminous lights allowed you to see inside the car and you glimpsed at your father who was staring worryingly at his phone. Your face fell and you knew something was off, but you also knew better than to ask questions.

Getting distracted, you saw you arrived at the gala, the door opened by the valet and your father graciously helped you out of the car before you were escorted to the lobby.

Your eyes instantly searched for that brown-headed man. Too preoccupied with that, your father chuckled as you wandered off, his hand reaching out to stop you so you could give the lady at the coat check your shawl.

Letting out a small “oh”, you passed her a smile. Your arms felt bare and a small breeze chilled the room. It was the entrance and with all the bodies filing in, it made sense. Just then, you felt a warmth rush through you when you felt a pair of hands on your skin.

“Princess, you look breathtaking,” he complimented, turning you around to face him to take in your appearance. He licked his lips softly, eyes so focused on every inch of your body.

You were too intent on taking in his appearance to notice. The navy suit that fit him so well, he looked sharp and you loved that he corresponded with you. Scanning your eyes upward, you landed on his face, his eyes staring at your lips again.

Smiling, he seemed to knock himself out of his trance and send you a sheepish smile. He didn’t think he’d get caught, but he composed himself quickly, adjusting his suit jacket.

“Ready to head in?” he nodded towards the door, taking your arm to loop with his.

“Yeah, let’s head in,” you replied, picking up the skirt of your dress and walking down the steps to the main ballroom.

Your father had already joined everyone else in the gala, most likely joining Sam and Steve for a quick catch-up before they divulged in business.

Peter had led you to your seats, a table sat in the corner of the ballroom by the entrance. Everyone seemed to gather in the middle, men talking amongst one another and the woman hanging on their arms as they smiled and nodded along.

Enjoying your time by tracing your fingers along the lines of his palms, it was quickly disrupted when his henchman approached, whispering something in his ear before he left. Sending you an apologetic look, you sent him one of understanding.

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, letting you know he’ll be back before he walked out the backdoor.

Deciding a drink will pass the time quicker, you made your way to the bar. Ordering a cosmo, you took a seat at the end of the bar, the bartender making your drink quickly and the tart taste of cranberry juice hitting your tongue put you at ease.

Only for two seconds though.

Resting your head on your chin, you sat at the table, waiting for dinner to start so your father and Peter could come back. But checking the time on your phone, you realized that would be another hour at most.

Sighing, you decided to check your phone for any new emails on shop coupons or rewards you’ve received. Sadly, nothing was new and you were now scrolling through Instagram.

“You know a party is boring when the prettiest girl is on her phone,” you heard a voice from behind you.

Straightening up, you looked over your shoulder to find a blond guy smiling at you.

“Mind if I sit?” he asked, gesturing to the barstool next to yours.

“Sure,” you passed a smile, swiveling in your seat so you’re facing him. “What’s your name?”

“Harry, Harry Osborn,” he greeted. “And you’re Y/N Barnes, a pleasure to finally meet you,” his grin grew wider, blue eyes meeting yours as he gently took your hand and kissed the top of it.

Charming.

“You know who I am,” you tilted your head to the side as you felt yourself blush.

“How can I not? My father’s been working for your dad for as long as I can remember,” he let out a laugh, somewhat offended at your surprise.

“Ah, yes, Norman Osborn, don’t know how I didn’t make the connection,” you sucked in a breath, grabbing your glass for another sip.

Harry was a handsome guy, he seemed kind and was easy to talk to. You liked the aura he gave off, very relaxed yet confident.

“I rarely catch you here, you usually don’t make an appearance,” he leaned a bit towards you, sending you signals that he was intrigued.

“Galas are kinda boring, my father and best friend always leave me to go talk business, so I’m left by myself,” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Well, now I’m here,” he smiled.

“I’m glad,” you flirted. “Not so lonely anymore.”

“If it weren’t for the open bar, I’d buy you a drink,” he smirked. “So how about I take you out?” he suggested, raising his brows.

“Hmm, keep talking and I’ll answer your question,” you giggled when he took on the challenge.

For the next fifteen or so minutes, you were talking with Harry about anything and everything. He cracked jokes here and there, making you laugh- to which he thinks is the most beautiful sound ever. The conversation was going so well and you were about to agree on his offer.

Unknown to your knowledge though, Peter strolled back into the main area after having a chat with a potential alliance. It went incredibly well and he was on his way back to the table to tell you all about it, but you were gone.

With a quick panic, he thought the worst, but he instantly heard your laugh. Thankful that you were safe, he still saw something he didn’t want to see. With a nasty taste left in his mouth, he stalked over to you and the strange guy.

“Princess thought I lost you,” Peter came up, pressing a kiss to your cheek that caught you by surprise.

“I got bored sitting at the table,” you frowned at him, his arm finding itself wrapped around your waist. “Ew, you smell like smoke,” you pinched your nose, pressing against him in an attempt to push him away but he didn’t budge.

You desperately hated the smell of smoke and ironically the two most influential men in your life smoked heavily.

“Who’s this?” he ignored you, staring at the guy with a hard gaze.

“Harry Osborn,” he introduced himself, offering a hand which Peter shook with a tight-lipped smile. “And you are?” he asked, wondering who the man that kissed you was.

“Her boyfriend,” Peter replied, your eyes widening in shock. “If you don’t mind,” he glanced between the two of you.

Without another word, Harry got up and left.

So much for meeting new people, you figured.

“Peter! Why would you say that?!” you smacked his arm, but he only rolled his eyes.

“Let’s just go back to our table, dinner should start soon,” he grabbed your hand and arm.

You let out a huff as you sat down, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat. Peter only sighed at your attitude, but to offer an apology, he placed his hand in your lap, hoping you’d continue to play with his fingers like before.

Gazing at him, you only scoffed at his hopeful eyes before crossing your legs, tilting your body opposite of him.

As everyone gathered back to the ballroom, taking their seats, your father appeared again, sitting right beside you and he was fast to notice your change in demeanor.

“What’s up with you, doll?” he furrowed his brows.

“She’s mad because I said I was her boyfriend,” Peter cut in, your eyes widening when he spoke over you again.

“I was talking to a guy and Peter shows up thinking he has some ownership of me,” you corrected, your father cocking a brow towards Peter.

“Sir, it was Harry Osborn,” he leaned forward, whispering his name. “I had to,” he shrugged.

And while your father understood that explanation, you were still lost.

“Peter did the right thing,” your father patted your knee in reassurance, but that only made you madder.

Semi-luckily, Peter saw through you.

“Harry Osborn is bad news, his father works for your dad but there are rumors he steals shipments,” he leaned towards you, taking your hand cautiously. “Your dad and I are trying to figure that out,” he elaborated, your gaze falling to your lap where your intertwined hands were.

“Oh, I didn’t know,” you frowned. “I’m so stupid, I’m sorry,” you groaned as you leaned into your chair, cringing at your idiocy, but divulging in the feeling of Peter’s thumb rubbing circles on the top of your hand made you feel better.

“No need to apologize, princess, I’m just glad nothing happened to you,” he pressed a smile before kissing your knuckles reassuringly.

“Me too,” you admitted.

~~~~~

“Are you sure you can’t even come over just for a little bit?” you asked, holding the phone up to your ear.

“I’m so sorry, princess, work has been hectic,” Peter explained on the other side of the phone.

You frowned and even though he couldn’t see, he knew you were sad.

“I just miss you, I haven’t seen you since the gala,” you trailed, walking into the kitchen to grab a snack. “When can I see my best friend again?” you asked, leaning against the marble countertop.

“As soon as I finish this deal with your father, then I’m all yours,” he hummed and you heard him file through different stacks of paper on his desk.

“Promise?” a smile grew on your face.

“Promise,” he reassured before hanging up.

A sigh left your lips as you shook with anticipation. You missed Peter dearly and the penthouse just seemed so bare without his presence. So quiet you could hear a pin drop. And so much so that you heard your father calling you to his office down the hall.

You made your way down, the soft orange glow coming from the ajar door leading you the way down the hall. Your father was seated in his black leather chair while he signed some papers, most likely shipment logs and inventory.

Walking in, you instantly felt the temperature change. The shudder that escaped your lips alerted him of your presence, a small smile making your way to your face when you grabbed the sweater you always kept in there.

“Hi, Dad,” you greeted before you took a seat in front of him, crisscrossing your legs.

“Hi, doll,” he passed a bright smile, but his eyes didn’t seem to match it. “I got some news for you,” he began.

“What’s wrong?” you already sensed that this wasn’t going to be something you enjoyed.

“It’s nothing bad, but I do want you to keep an open mind,” he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat.

Nodding along, you weren’t sure how hard that was going to be, but you wanted him to go on.

“You’re my daughter, Y/N, I’ve raised you as such but as you’ve grown I’ve made a lot of enemies,” he began, eyes dropping after they met your curious ones for a split second. “And because you’re not my blood, they won’t have a problem harming you,” he trailed, your brows furrowing when you listened to him.

“What does that mean, Dad?” you asked, gulping as you grew nervous.

“I can’t protect you anymore, doll,” he confessed, his gaze falling on yours. His stare was calm, eyes turned cold. You could sense the pain in them and he was fighting to conceal it when tears poured into his eyes.

“What’s going to happen to me?” you questioned, thinking he was either going to kill you or throw you out into the streets.

“If my enemies can’t see that you’re mine, blood or not, I have to ensure your safety through other means,” he started. “I have arranged for Peter to marry you,” he stated, your heart plummets.

Shaking your head you were quick to argue. You didn’t want to marry anyone, even if it was your best friend. It was too weird, too soon. There has to be another way.

“But, I’m your daughter,” you teared up. “You can’t do that,” you shook your head, body racking in cries as you wept. “You kill people for a living and you’re going to stop when my life is on the line?!” you began to hyperventilate.

“If they ever lay a hand on you, I wouldn’t hesitate to kill, but there’s too much risk involving this,” he stood up. “They’ll twist the words and make me the bad guy, risking your life even more,” he stalked closer to you, kneeling in front of you and holding your shoulders. “Peter will protect you, he always has and if you’re his wife, they’ll accept that,” he tried to convince you.

Shutting your eyes, you tried very hard to pretend this was a nightmare. Your father would never do this to you because you’re his daughter, blood or not. Bucky Barnes, the man that has held a notorious image for so long in New York and even across the country would never give up so easily.

He took down rival gangs in one night, he’s killed people without hesitation, he’s built an empire that many fear- how was he simply throwing you away?

“But he’s my best friend,” you cried into your hands, trying to rip away from your father’s hold.

You were angry, confused, terrified. Especially towards him.

He wasn’t the man you remembered throwing you princess-themed birthday parties up until you were eleven, the man that tucked you in every night, the man that handed you a thousand dollars every morning “just in case” even though you had his card in your wallet already; the literal man who picked you off the streets and raised you as his own.

“You can’t make me marry him,” you trembled when you look back at him, but your breath instantly caught in your throat.

He was crying, actually crying. Bucky Barnes was crying. All because of you.

“This was the only way, too many people have already threatened your life and I don’t know how I can live with myself knowing you’re in danger,” he dropped his head, his sniffles ringing through the air. “You know I love you, right?” he asked, gazing back up and gripping your chin to force you to look at him.

You nodded your head, blinking your tears away before you saw a smile growing on his face as he let go.

“C’mere,” he opened his arms, and you fell into his embrace, his strong arms holding you securely.

To think the way he protected you all those years like it was second nature. And as strong as he was, as a killer of a metal arm he had, it would no longer do justice.

And you had to accept that as your fate.

~~~~~

Dressed in your sage dress, you stood by your father as you waited for the elevator to reach the top floor of the apartment building.

You weren’t sure if Peter knew about this marital arrangement. You hoped he didn’t and he would deny the offer, letting you get back to your normal life. But, fate hadn’t seemed to be on your side the moment the elevators opened to his penthouse.

“Peter, good to see you again,” your father greeted, pulling him into a firm hug and handshake.

“Same here, Mr. Barnes,” Peter pulled away, smiling at the man. “Princess, it feels like forever since I’ve seen you,” he pulled you into a hug and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You smiled as you hugged him, indulging in his touch and his scent, but he was too quick to pull away, grabbing your hand lightly.

“Shall we get onto dinner then? We have a lot to discuss,” your father spoke up, nodding towards the dining table that was placed right by the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Of course, I had my chef prepare all your favorites,” he squeezed your hand tighter and led you to the table.

Your heels clicked against the elegant flooring as he pulled you along. The table was set with an array of foods, all your favorites. Your stomach churned. As hungry as you were, you couldn’t fathom eating right now.

“And I got you these as well,” he pulled the bouquet from the table, offering them to you.

Your favorite flowers. The bouquet was so full and vibrant. You loved them.

“Thank you, Peter, they’re lovely,” you grinned, smelling them.

The two men smiled generously at your reaction, it was a good idea to get you in a good mood before everything was official between you and Peter.

Setting the flowers back down, Peter pulled your seat out for you and you thanked him once more before you situated yourself. It was not unusual to see Peter this happy, but there was just something about him tonight that was off.

Maybe since you haven’t seen him in weeks. Or maybe he was just extremely happy that he was starting his alliance with Thor Odinson. Either way, seeing him happy made the weight on your shoulders lighter.

“Say, Peter, quite the celebration you got going on,” your father voiced, a proud grin adorning his face once everyone was seated. “Heard you sealed the deal with Thor and now you’re engaged!” he cheered, the brightness illuminated on his face that matched the same energy as Peter’s when you looked at him.

“Wait, Peter, you knew about this?” you shook your head in shock, staring at the man across from you.

Many questions were flying through your head at that moment. How long did he know? How long was he hiding this from you? Why did he agree to it? And why did he seem so unfazed by it?

“Doll, it was his idea,” your father clarified, patting your shoulder as he chuckled. “And I was the one to pass him the opportunity,” he added, sending another pleased grin his way.

“Peter,” you directed back to him. “How could you?”

He blinked as he focused on you, his lips curving upward into a smile.

“Well, I was the only logical choice, I know you, your father trusts me, I’m financially well off, and I can bring you the protection your father can no longer give,” he shrugged like it was obvious, but you couldn’t believe it.

It was one thing that your father told you you were to marry Peter. But now hearing that Peter was the one to suggest it made your heart break.

The two most important men in your life were deciding your choices and it was scary. Your mind can’t even comprehend it.

“You’re my best friend, don’t you want to fall in love?” you baffled.

“Trust me, princess, this is going to be good for all of us,” he reached over to grab your hand. “And who’s not to say we won’t fall in love? We love each other already,” he breathed out a laugh and you shut your eyes.

This had to be a nightmare.

“As friends, not romantically,” you were bewildered, your eyes shooting open again. “What about my home? I have a life,” you tried to rip your hand away, but he kept his grip tight.

“We’ll get married by next Friday, you’ll move in with me, it’ll be a big change but you’ll live comfortably, never have to work a day in your life,” he reassured, squeezing your hand.

You glanced around the penthouse. It was nice, luxurious like your current home, but it wasn’t your home. Peter’s penthouse was very modern and manly. Sure it was clean, but it was too clean-cut and dark for your liking.

“I know my place isn’t up to your standards, but you can redecorate however you want,” he circled his thumb on the top of your hand. “It’ll become your home too,” he softly spoke, squeezing your hand once more before he let go.

“You are marrying yourself one hell of a guy, doll,” your father butted in, trying to offer some lightheartedness to the conversation but you couldn’t find it in yourself to receive that comfort. “C’mon, smile, you’re a bride now!”

Your father and Peter let out a roar of cheers, trying to excite you but you could only sit there. Futile in their attempts to hype you up, Peter decided it was best to carry on with the celebration.

“I had your favorite champagne flown in,” Peter hauled the bottle from the ice as he stood up.

And it was indeed your favorite, imported from France- the bubbles just seemed to pop more on your tongue and Peter knew. He bought you a bottle every year for your birthday every since you turned twenty-one.

“Picked it just for tonight,” Peter smiled. “We’re not just celebrating you, but us,” he winked your way, your father gushing with excitement that he reached over to pinch your cheek and all you can do was force out a hum.

You stared down at your hands. Your freshly manicured nails shone in the light, a baby pink shade that Peter picked out when you called him while you were getting your nails done. It was only a few days since and you wondered if he had known about this then.

The pop of the cork drowned out your thoughts, Peter and your father pouring the gold liquid into the glasses. You were handed one by Peter and it wasn’t a second later that you downed it completely.

“Woah, doll, slow down there,” your father patted your shoulder, letting out a playful chuckle as he looked at his future son-in-law.

“Don’t worry, she gets like that when she’s nervous,” Peter excused you, sending you a grin.

Of course, he remembered that about you. Why was it so aggravating to have him know so much about you? It felt invasive, there was rarely any secrecy, minimal surprises with Peter. He knew you better than anyone in the world and because of that, because of his lineage and status- your father only saw the perfect husband for his little girl.

And that made hatred bubble in your stomach as you stared back at him.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can do this,” you placed your elbows on the table as you leaned forward. “Why?” you rested your head in your hands as you stared at your father and then Peter.

The two shared a look before Peter spoke up.

“You know why, princess, think of this as a good thing, you’re marrying your best friend,” he offered another smile, that twinkle shining in his eyes when he got real. “Isn’t that how you’re supposed to do it? Marry your best friend?” he shrugged.

“But we haven’t dated, I don’t know you like that,” you emphasized, repeating your reasoning.

“Doll, if you don’t want to marry Peter, then I guess I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe anymore,” he sighed, leaning back in his seat, biting the inside of his cheek as he allowed you to contemplate it.

You glanced over at him and you could tell he was sick of this behavior, he made it very evident that he was doing this for your best interest. While it appeared that you had already accepted that, your heart was not in it.

But the threat your father made unsettled you. Your father never went that far in his threats with you. Actually, he never went anywhere with them because you’re his daughter.

Why now, though? You loved your father with all your heart and the minute you glanced back at him and saw nothing but fear and worry, you remember why you had to do this.

“I’ll marry Peter,” you said more calmly, your father closing his eyes in content and you physically saw the load come off his shoulders.

“I promise you won’t regret this, Y/N,” Peter stood up, reaching into his suit pocket as he rounded the table.

You watched carefully, he didn’t rip his eyes from you once as he kneeled in front of you. A beautiful red velvet box was in his hands when he propped one knee up. He gently opened it, revealing a princess cut, gold banded engagement ring.

It was too simple to be considered grand but based on the size of the diamond- you wondered how much it cost. More importantly, you beat yourself up wondering how Peter knew this is the exact ring you always dreamed of.

“Y/N Barnes, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asked, a glint in his eyes.

You attempted to whisper a “yes”, but you solely nodded, too scared to say anything but he nonetheless gently slipped the ring on your finger.

As you stared at the diamond- it felt real suddenly. It fit too perfectly to be a coincidence and was way too comfortable on your finger.

Peter knew you, but how did he know this much?

~~~~~

Ushered out of your bed at six in the morning was something you weren’t expecting, even more, when you saw Nat was the one to pull you out of the bed. She didn’t even let you change from your pajamas before you were pushed into the elevator and into a car that took you to the venue.

You were very thankful though when she handed you your favorite drink from your favorite cafe the moment you arrived in the bridal suite.

It was too early in your opinion, the ceremony didn’t begin until two that afternoon and you wanted to know why you needed eight hours to get ready. Six hours would’ve been good at least.

“Wanda brought breakfast, you need to eat since you most likely won’t the rest of the day,” Nat placed food from a place right in front of you and you instantly heard your stomach rumble.

Both she and Wanda already had their hair and makeup done, now it was your turn and you still had two and a half hours on the clock left.

“Has anyone seen my phone?” you asked, realizing you haven’t been on it all day. “I want to text Peter,” you said, worry filling your voice. “Or maybe I can see him for a bit?” you thought, knowing even a few seconds would bring you ease.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” Wanda approached you, glancing at you through the mirror.

“I don’t know, I’ll just feel better if I see him,” you shrugged.

“Oh sweetie, it’s bad luck for the groom to see the bride,” Nat cooed. “If you want I can send him a message,” she suggested, but you quickly shook your head knowing it won’t be the same.

As bad as you wanted to be mad at Peter, you couldn’t. He was still your best friend at the end of the day and he knew how to make your nerves go away. He was always there for you...

“Peter, I don’t think I can do this,” you shook your head, watching as all the other students enter the front of the hotel. “What if the rumors are true?” you held onto your clutch as you stared horrified at the school.

Your senior prom was tonight, with many students gossiping about your reign of prom queen, other rumors have surfaced about your winning being sabotaged.

Possibilities of a scene straight out from Carrie or even worse.

Even with your father, some students had the balls to defy your name and bully you. Most of it was tolerable ever since Peter beat up that one kid, but there was still a bit of name-calling.

And now with the final nights of high school, those students figured they should go off with a bang- which was something you didn’t want to witness.

“I will make sure nothing happens to you, and if someone does try to pour a bucket of pig’s blood over your head, I’ll be the one to make them regret it,” he placed his hands on your upper arms, a reassuring look washing over his face.

“Okay, let’s go,” you smiled back, letting him grab your hand and lead you up the steps.

Turns out the rumors were true, but Peter caught the group of girls that wanted to dump tar on you before you went up the stage to accept your crown. And hell, did you look beautiful.

“You’re beautiful,” Nat admired as she placed the small tiara on top of your head. “What do you think?” she asked, turning you to face the mirror.

Your dress was a poofy a-line dress with a sweetheart neckline, a floral lace was decorated around it, and had beautiful off-the-shoulder puff sleeves. You looked stunning like a princess.

“I look like a bride,” you said truthfully, astonished by how perfect you looked. “But I don’t feel like one,” your gaze fell as you played with your fingernails.

“Don’t chip your manicure,” she slapped your hands away from each other. “Trust me, the moment you see Peter, you’ll feel like one,” she squeezed your upper arms reassuringly.

Nat was sort of your stepmother. She and your father had an on-and-off relationship your entire life. Both are too preoccupied with their businesses to truly focus on one another, though. In the past few days, you wondered where you'd be right now if she was your mom.

Maybe she’d have Bucky give you more leeway and you’d be marrying someone you loved. Not your best friend.

“Do you think my dad made the right choice for me?” you asked, staring at her in the mirror.

She let out a sigh as she pondered before offering a smile as she opened her mouth to speak.

“I think your father wishes he knew what was best for you, but because of his job, he is forced to make some bad ones,” she answered, adjusting a piece of your hair. “Forcing you to marry is one of them, but having Peter be the one is not,” she added.

You stared at her blankly, unsure of what to say.

“Peter is a good guy, he clearly loves you and is willing to do anything for you, you may not love him romantically, but give that time,” she rested her chin on your shoulder as she looked back at you.

She was right.

Peter did everything for you your entire life. Shopping trips, brunches, spa days, late-night calls even though he had an early shift the next day- there was no second-guessing with him. Hell, even with two weeks of planning this wedding, it was all: “Whatever you want, princess.”

Not to mention, he agreed to marry you.

Peter was your best friend and your protector. Maybe you did just need some time to love him that way. And hopefully, he will too.

A knock rang through the bridal suite, Wanda rushing over to open the door to reveal your father standing on the other side.

He was decked out in his tux, his beard and hair were freshly groomed. When he walked in, he wore a bright smile, Wanda and Nat making space for you and him.

“You’re beautiful, doll,” your father tears up, but he wasn’t going to cry in front of the other two women. “So grown up,” he sniffled as he grabbed your hand and placed a kiss on the top of your hand.

“Thank you, Dad,” you forced a smile.

“Almost time,” he sucked in a breath. “Until you’re no longer mine,” he frowned. “You’ve grown into such a wonderful woman,” he cupped the side of your face as he held your hand close to his chest.

You stared lovingly at your father. For all he did and sacrificed for you, the life he blessed you with. There was always going to be that time when you were no longer dependent on him- you just didn’t realize it’d be this soon.

“You raised me into one,” you said, voice cracking as you tried not to start a scene.

“Just remember you’ll always be my little girl,” he grabbed your face and kissed the top of your head and that’s what you needed to start the waterworks.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you breathed out, fanning your eyes as you gasped.

“Oh, doll, you’re just emotional, it’s your wedding day,” Wanda came up and quickly dabbed your eyes. “Bucky, I told you not to make her cry,” she directed to your dad.

“I know, I know, it’s hard,” he sniffled.

“There, all better,” she grinned, as she fixed your makeup. “Shall we get this show on the road then?” she asked, helping you with your dress.

Walking down the aisle gave you a rush of anxiety that you never felt before. The moment the doors to the venue opened and your eyes landed on Peter. He was dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit, bow tie tied perfectly around his neck. He looked rather dashing, always was anyway.

You passed him a smile that caused his smile to grow larger and that’s when you felt your cheeks heat up.

This wasn’t so bad.

The melody to the music continued to play as you proceeded down the aisle. Every single guest passed a twinkling smile, a few tears shed at how beautiful you looked. Perhaps it was the stares, but you felt your anxiety increase when you glimpse at each person you passed.

You barely knew any of them and as you began to take deeper breaths, you clutched your nails into your father’s arm and your bouquet. He tried to calm you down by rubbing your arm but it didn’t help at all.

Until you ripped your eyes away and focused back on Peter. His eyes filled with concern but the second you sent a look that you were alright, he let out a breath the moment you met him at the alter.

He reached for your hand that was passed on from your dad and his warm touch reassured you.

Everything was going to be alright.

Peter will take care of you, treat you as an equal, and love you. Someday, you might even renew your vows, reading the words you wrote for one another that were filled with love and passion because you truly loved each other.

But for now, as the officiant read off words of endearment you did your best to listen in, trying not to focus on your sweating hands that were held in Peter’s. You gave a pleasant smile as you recited your vows and placed the gold band on Peter’s finger.

“I do,” you replied when asked, Peter growing a bigger smile as he grabbed your left hand and eagerly placed the matching ring on yours, fitting right on top of your engagement ring.

“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant said.

You batted your eyes in anticipation. This was going to be your first ever kiss with Peter and it was in front of hundreds of people- strangers. And while you seemed nervous, Peter gently grabbed your face and leaned in.

The kiss was powerful and unexpected. He knew exactly how to move his mouth against yours and it felt magical. The thought of kissing your best friend occurred in your brain once or twice, but this, this was so much better.

To seal the deal off, you placed one hand on his chest and deepened it. The shutter and flash of the camera made you jolt, prompting him to pull away with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

He swiftly intertwined your hands together, leading you back down the aisle as all the guests applauded. He stopped right at the end, pulling you in for another kiss and the snap of the photographer’s camera startled you again.

He pulled away with a laugh, holding you close as you exited the venue.

“Mrs. Parker,” he gestured to the limo, a driver waiting with the door open as he guided you inside.

The name was going to be an adjustment to make, but it did have a nice ring to it.

~~~~~

The guests cheered as they gathered outside the reception, sparklers in their hands that created an arch for the two of you.

Peter grabbed your hand as you both walked down to your getaway car. Your grip was firm on his hand and you kept close to your new husband. All the cheering and shouts of the guest heightened your anxiety, but having Peter there seemed to put you at ease.

He held you close now, putting his arm around your waist snuggly as you approached the last few feet of the path. The photographer and videographer still stood by as they captured the moment he pulled you into his arms and dipped you for a kiss.

If the crowd couldn’t have gotten louder.

You waved goodbye to the guests, especially to your father before Peter was guiding you into the passenger’s seat of his car. He quickly circled before he got in, starting the car and you were off, the wedding-goers becoming smaller as you drove further and further away.

The skirt of your dress had ridden up slightly, prompting Peter to place his hand on your upper thigh. You both had changed into more casual attire- Peter insisting on you wearing those cheetah print heels he got you all those weeks ago and a nice coffee brown cocktail dress he also bought you. While he sported a matching brown button-up and khakis.

As dashing as he was throughout the night, there was just something about him now that made you grin from ear to ear. Although, it wasn’t like that was going to go anywhere. Even if you were married now.

You thoroughly enjoyed the reception. It just felt like a party and oftentimes you forgot you were the reason for the celebration. The countless clanging of silverware against the glasses encouraged Peter to kiss you. And of course, Peter would grab the side of your face and kiss you like he meant it.

You had your first dance first thing and while you were a trained ballerina for a good part of your life, your nerves seemed to get the best of you. Fortunately, Peter was your saving grace and he took the lead, drawing you close to him as he hummed along to the song in your ear.

The entire night, his touch brought your shivers. A tingly sensation that would draw up your spine and cause a rush of heat to your cheeks. He seemed to notice too because he touched you often. Unless he was just doing his part to sell that you were both in love.

In that case, he was a phenomenal actor.

And now after a long plane ride to Bora Bora- you finally arrived on your honeymoon.

Peter carried the bags as you made your way up the path. Your heels in your hand as you walked up the stone to the beachfront villa Peter owned. You turned back to look at the beach and the moon reflecting on the waves made for a beautiful scene.

As you were about to walk through the door, Peter stopped you. You furrowed your brows at him but you quickly let out a yelp when he picked you up bridal style.

“I have to stick with traditions, princess,” he smirked while he walked you through the threshold as you grew a small smile, wrapping your arm around his neck.

You took this time to take in all the beautiful amenities to the place, the kitchen and living room decorated to fit the aesthetic and everything just seemed so open and calm. You loved it.

The bedroom was even grander as you spotted the king-sized bed, rose petals shaped into a heart right on top of the duvet. There was a huge patio door leading to a private pool and another door that revealed a huge marble tub and a walk-in shower.

“How come you never took me here?” you asked, walking over to the patio to get a look at the view, admiring every inch of the place.

“I always planned on it, just had to wait for the right occasion,” he shrugged, walking up behind you. “Seemed like the perfect one now,” he whispered, kissing the back of your ear as he trailed a hand up your arm.

“You know you don’t have to do that, we’re alone,” you turned around to face him.

“Do what?” he furrowed his brows. “Being affectionate? You’re my wife, I think I’m allowed to do that behind closed doors,” he cocked a brow, wrapping his arms around your middle.

You were about to open your mouth to say something, but he beat you to it.

“C’mon, I have something for you,” he pulled away, hand brushing over yours. You straightened up as he walked over to his suitcase, unzipping it and filing through the different clothes before he pulled out a white material. “Put this on,” he held up a see-through lace nightie, your eyes widening at how small it was.

“Why?” you baffled, growing shy.

“You’ll look beautiful when we consummate our marriage,” he explained, his lips curving upwards as his eyes darkened with lust.

“Peter,” you muttered out, wrapping your arms around yourself. “You’re not serious, are you?” you looked at him with shock. “I didn’t think,” you trailed, letting out a breath as you stepped back.

“You think I wasn’t going to want to sleep with my wife?” he furrowed his brows, letting out a mocking laugh when he realized you were being serious. “I’ve played my cards right and I think I deserve my reward,” he stated, your eyes widening in shock.

“Peter, what are you talking about?” you questioned, growing worried, not wanting to admit to the truth.

“It was a simple plan, I knew you never wanted to do anything with the mob, you always wanted the simple life, be a doting wife and mother,” he shoved his hands into his pockets after he threw the nightie on the bed. “I love picturing it, you round and swollen with my child as you wait for me to return home,” he grinned, grabbing your hand.

You tried to pull away from him, but he kept his grip strong.

“I waited as we got older, I also knew about your father’s enemies, willing and ready to rip you to shreds just cause they can, so of course, I suggested you be married, a safer precaution,” he shrugged, lips pursing.

You felt more tears prick in your eyes as he carried on.

“I was ready to fight for my right to your hand, but I was surprised when he was quick to pick me,” he smiled proudly. “Obviously, I accepted his offer, now not only will I be the leader of the Parker mob, but Barnes will soon be under my name and I will have my beautiful, sexy wife,” he raked his eyes over your body, “right by my side.”

“Why would you lie to me?” you whimpered, you were so confused.

“I’ve been in love with you for as long as I could remember,” he reached up to cup your face. “I needed to make sure I had you, I hated lying to you, but now I’m being honest,” his face softened as he wiped away your tears.

“You love me?” you felt a pang at your heart when he nodded.

“More than life itself,” he added. “And I can’t wait for the day you love me just as much, but for now I can show you just how much I love you,” he stood up, leading you with him.

“I-I have never done this before,” you gulped when you realized what he was insinuating.

“I know, I’ll make you feel amazing though,” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “So, please would you put this on for me?” he reached for the nightie again.

With shaky hands, you sucked in your tears before you nodded, taking it slowly and you took your time with venturing into the bathroom.

Now were you not only married to your best friend, but you had to sleep with him?

You closed your eyes as you undid your dress, your hands shaking when you slid the lacey, thin material over your head. You felt cold and bare. You didn’t even spare a glance in the mirror before you found yourself standing in front of Peter again.

He had stripped himself of his clothes, leaving him in his briefs. You had forgotten how much of a physique he had and you had to force yourself to stop staring before he caught on. And it was very evident that he was already hard.

“Princess,” Peter groaned, gaping at the sight before him. “You are so beautiful,” he ran his hands up your sides, a shiver escaping your mouth as you glanced at him. “So delicate,” he whispered, tracing his hands over your ass before they ran up your back.

One of his hands traced to your front, the lacey material giving him a gist of what your breasts looked like, his tongue outlined his lips while he pinched your sensitive peaks with his fingers.

Biting your tongue, you weren’t sure how that felt as good as it did, but Peter noticed and he let out a chuckle when you sucked in a breath.

“That’s only the beginning,” he stepped closer, grabbing the back of your neck.

His lips met yours again in an instant and you let out a soft moan when he ran his tongue across your bottom lip.

That was new.

Up until this point, your arms were stuck by your sides, but you lightly placed them on his sides, nails digging into his skin as you clung to him, enjoying the kiss.

He easily won dominance, one hand firm on your neck while the other explored every curve of your body. He was insatiable, so ravenous- part of you liked it.

The vibrations against your lips anytime he groaned when you raked your nails across his skin, the groove of his muscles made that spark ignite in your core. The sensation was weird and you felt unsatisfactory.

“Take these off,” he panted as he pulled away for a split moment, your eyes fluttering open. You felt his fingers play with the band of your thong before he slipped underneath and guided them along your legs.

“Peter, I’m not sure-,” you were cut off when he shushed you.

“That kiss was good, right?” he cupped either side of your face to make you look at him.

Your face heated up as much as you wanted to deny it, but you sheepishly let out a small nod, allowing him to lead you to the bed.

He pulled you into his lap, your core brushing against the material of his briefs and you let out a soft groan. Humored at your reaction, he laid back, placing a hand on your hip.

“Sit on my face,” he gazed up at you, a glint of hunger washed over his eyes and you stared blankly at him, unsure of what he meant by that.

“Peter, I-,” you hesitated, hoping for some clarification before you did what he told you.

“Come up here,” he ordered, squeezing your ass.

Your legs shook when stood and you wobbled as you hovered over him, your hand pushing down the material of your nightie to cover your exposed bits as you squatted above him, but he pulled your hand away and sucked in a breath when he caught sight of your core.

“Oh, princess,” he groaned, running his thumb along your slit, your hand clutching the headboard in front of you. “I’ve always wondered what you taste like,” he kissed along the inside of your thigh, a small gasp leaving your lips at the feeling.

It was strange, the way shocks of electricity ran up your spine and back down to your abdomen with just the slightest touch of his lips. And it would repeat all over each time he trailed up closer and closer, the feeling more powerful.

All of a sudden, you felt the wetness of his tongue slide between your folds, spreading his saliva around. You gripped the headboard with your other hand when your body jolted, a tingling sensation rising. He continued to do that repeatedly, his hands gripping the tops of your thighs to hold you down.

“Peter,” your forehead creased, tilting your head back when he bit at a sensitive spot.

You’ve touched that place once or twice before, but the pleasure rushing through your body was never this good. And part of you despised Peter for being the one to do so. But the other part couldn’t find shit to care about.

“Mhmm,” he hummed against you, sucking on your bud when he realized you liked it, his tongue circling it before he licked another swipe to collect your slick. “I knew you’d taste so good,” he mouthed, the vibrations causing you to grind against his face. “And I knew you’d learn to like it too,” he chuckled, your hand reaching down to grip his hair.

“Oh, God,” you moaned, your teeth biting down hard on your lip as your eyes shut closed.

Peter looked up at you, breasts held up by the nightie but the see-through material let him see how your nipples became hard, letting him know how much you were enjoying this. Smiling to himself, he felt proud, he had you just where he wanted you.

“Gonna cum, princess?” he muttered, your movements against his mouth becoming frantic as you rode him. “Just let go,” he guided you through your first orgasm, your fist tugging on his curls when you came undone, your thighs shaking under his touch.

“Peter, Peter!” you screamed, rocking your hips back and forth before you felt yourself give out. Your legs were unsteady but Peter was quick to maneuver you to your back, your chest heaving up and down. “Oh my god.”

“I know, I know,” he cooed, spreading your legs open once more. “Felt good, right?” he looked up at you, your head nodding shamefully. “That was just the tip of the iceberg,” he smirked, crawling back up to you.

“I can’t do anymore, Peter,” you whined, shaking your head against the pillow.

“But I haven’t even shown you the best part,” he frowned, gesturing between the two of you and you gulped when you saw him. He was hard and it looked painful, the way his red-tip oozed with precum, begging to be inside you already, no way was it going to fit.

“Don’t worry, princess, I’ll go slow,” he grinned, slowly aligning his tip to your entrance. “Might be a tight fit, but we’ll manage,” he smiled, kissing you.

A moan escaped your lips when you tasted yourself on his lips. It was a strange taste, but it distracted you when he entered you.

The tightness caused him to pull away, his eyes focused intensely on your connected bodies as he let out a pained groan. You were clenched around him, practically sucking him back in with your lips.

He was smooth in hiking your legs up with his arms, pressing them into your chest, giving him and you a new angle while he slid in deeper, your eyes rolling back just slightly when he brushed against a certain spot.

Moving your legs up to his arms so the backs of your knees rested on his biceps allowed your chests to be pressed together, the closeness making it all the more intimate.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he asked, rocking his hips back slowly. “So wet for me, being such a good girl,” he rested his forehead against yours.

“Peter,” you whimpered, nails digging into his forearms when you tried to decipher between the pain and pleasure.

He rocked his hips back and forth, enabling you to divulge in the feeling of his cock sheathing you. You whimpered as he let go of your legs, his arm wrapping around underneath you to lift your hips.

“Shit,” you hissed, hands finding their way to his shoulders, nails creating scratch marks on his skin.

“Such a sailor’s mouth, princess,” he mocked in your ear, pressing kisses on your face before he made his way down, his other hand groping your breast through the lace before he slipped them out, the cold air forcing a shudder out of you.

Running your fingers through his hair, you bit your lip as he sucked on your nipple, another new feeling you found yourself experiencing that you loved.

You opened your legs wider, allowing his dick to rut into you even deeper than before. The sensation of his pelvis rubbing against your clit made you shiver, causing you to tug on his hair harder.

“Peter, please,” you gasped, his mouth moving to your other breast.

“Tell me what you want, princess,” he lifted his head, eyes dazed from the pleasure as he stared at you.

“I want you, Peter, I want you,” you cried, pushing the hair out of his face before you leaned up to kiss him.

“You have me,” he said against your lips. “You have me,” he panted, your noses knocking.

Tongues clashed against each other, your hands wandered over his body like you were afraid he’d disappear.

But, Peter was there and he was yours and you were his.

Your skin slapped against each other and your chests were pressed together. You kissed along his neck and jaw, whispering encouragements in his ear as you inhaled his wonderful scent. One hand stuck in his hair, threading your fingers through his brown curls and you were sure he was going to have terrible bedhead the moment you got up.

It wasn’t going to matter though, the only thing Peter cared about was cumming inside of you. Finally marking you as his and ensuring that his seed is planted deep.

He knew it was early for babies, but he figured you both could get a head start on practicing. He couldn’t wait for the day you were swollen with his child, your hormones gone awol as you beg for him to fuck you and fill you repeatedly.

The thought alone brought him to many orgasms way before you got engaged. It was always the lonely mornings and nights that would stir him awake in hopes that you were sleeping beside him.

And now he has it. He has you. Right beneath him as your walls squeezed around his cock, urging him deeper with each thrust. His arm tightly wrapped around you, tits bouncing and your breath hot on his skin.

You were close, he could tell. Your legs moved frantically, nails forming scratches and marks along his back and shoulders, fingers tugging on his brown locks. He loved the feeling of your skin against his, your coat of sweat glistening off one another.

Nudging you to look at him, he framed your head with his arm. You were so disoriented, eyes continuously rolling to the back of your head if it weren’t for him to tell you to look at him. It brought a smile to his face at how cock-hungry you were and it was only your first night together.

And there you were again, your back arching, face hiding into his chest as you clawed at his lower back. Your slick walls contracted around him, holding him in place when he came as well.

“Oh, fuck,” he fisted the pillow behind you, his balls pulsating against you as they spilled his seed inside you.

You glanced at him, mouth agape as you felt him finish inside of you. His head rested in the crook of your neck and you felt the way his muscles clenched underneath your fingertips. You were amazed, honestly.

Divulging in the scent of his cologne, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder and trailed your way up to his face. One of your hands still lodged in his hair.

“That was good,” you breathed heavily, chest rising and falling, your nightie bunched up around your middle.

“More than good, fantastic, princess,” he lifted his head, eyes heavy-lidded as he stared down at you. “You were so amazing,” he framed your head with his arm as he brushed pieces of hair out of your face.

“I liked it,” you hummed, running your thumb over his cheek, gazing admirably into his eyes.

He kissed you once more, your hand pulling him close before he slipped out, emptiness consuming you but your thoughts were interrupted when you had the urge to pee, Peter carrying you out of bed and to the bathroom.

After you cleaned yourself and you fixed the top of your nightie, Peter helped you into the bed, his briefs back on him.

Your mind still had trouble processing what had happened only a few minutes ago, you still shook with pleasure. Peering over at Peter, he still had that “winning a million dollars” grin plastered on his face.

He drew you into his chest, face resting on his pec while he rubbed circles on your hip. You rested your hand right in the middle of his chest and you did your best to fall asleep.

While this was still all new to you, he treated it as if you have already done this. As this level of intimacy was normal between you.

Now not only were you adopted into the mob life but you were married to it. No matter what, from now on you will always be dependent on Peter in every possible way.

And while that may seem intimidating or even scary- you couldn’t help but wipe the smile off of your face as you fell asleep.

~~~~~

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[rayshippouuchiha]

Bnha au idea where they have to actually write down who they would prefer to partner with should a "fuck or die" quirk incident happen, before resorting to professional intervention. Because look, quirks are already so fucking weird, and being a hero puts you in the path for some ridiculous shit. Redundant and hopefully unnecessary paperwork defining hypothetical situations like that makes SENSE!

(There's the random person with nurse training who has gone through extra training/psychological evaluations to be certified for medically necessary sex if the person doesn't have anyone on their list/no-one on their list agreed)

This would also be a situation where the quirk is more just "unreasonably boosting existing libido" so ace people can't be affected (or kids, cause no. But that DOES need to be clarified I think)

Anyways it kinda comes back to my enjoyment of the mutual pining where they aren't ever going to do anything unless actually pushed into it, but wanting actual consent to be a thing that happens.

Would be a fun AiDeku idea, just one of the two of them getting affecting by a fuck or die quirk and the reveal that they are the others first choice for a partner. Would be very fun if it was like, pro-hero Deku who got hit with it and the nursing staff is just like "who the FUCK is this Aizawa person?!?" And then Aizawa shows up a whole-ass exhausted hobo man who's a fucking mess and they are like "This is him? THIS!!! Deku get some STANDARDS PLEASE!!!"

Not gonna lie, I read the very first sentence of this and my mind immediately went AiDeku AU so it's nice to see we're on the same general wavelength. SO here we go again!:

The Emergency Intimacy Contact (EIC for short) has been a long-standing tradition in heroics. It was drafted into the official paperwork required by all heroes regardless of public standing since the villain Cupid had rained quirk-enhanced arrows down on the heroes of Tokyo a couple decades before.

(The fall out had seen the entire Heroes Wing of Tokyo General turned into what was, essentially, a giant orgy that had resulted in several divorces, the formation of a number of new couples and throuples, a handful of shotgun weddings, and the birth of two sets of very very spoiled twins the following year.)

Making sure one has their EIC filled out is a serious and important part of setting their affairs in order when embarking on such a dangerous career as professional heroics.

Which means, of course, that barely anyone takes it seriously these days.

Spouses and partners are, of course, commonly jotted down for heroes who are in committed relationships with no interest in straying. Others write down close and trusted friends.

But there's a rather large portion of modern heroes who use their EIC as a sort of "fantasy bid" or even as their "one exception" with a more serious aka realistic EIC written down as a backup.

And since consent has to be had from both parties whenever an EIC is enacted no one really bothers to police who is and isn't put down.

"Take it seriously," Toshinori had always warned Izuku. "If you don't choose wisely and you ever need it ,,, friendships have been ruined over less."

There's a wealth of things there that Toshinori had never fully explained but Izuku had been able to put the pieces together easily enough. All Might and Sir Nighteye's fall out had been rather famous after all and had actually started the year before Toshinori had been so grievously injured.

Izuku had debated over who to put down as his EIC when he'd first had to fill them out. At the time, freshly debuted as a pro and still pretty much alone, he'd had no real options no matter how unappealing the alternatives, sedation and/or a trained professional stepping in if necessary, had seemed.

But now, years later and with the form renewals having come around for the year, a part of him is thrilled that he might actually have choices these days.

It really is a wonder, the things that friends can come in handy for.

Getting arrested with Hitoshi that one time and then meeting and being rather forcefully adopted by the majority of his UA class really was one of the better things to ever happen to Izuku.

But still, choosing which of his friends to ask something like this from has been proving to be almost equally as difficult.

"Come on Zu," Hitoshi huffs from his places sprawled out on the floor, "it's not that difficult."

"Is too," Izuku refuses to admit he might whine just a bit.

"It's really not," Ochako chimes in from where she's nestled between Tenya and Tsu.

"People with two partners don't get to speak," Denki chimes in then.

"~Jeal~ous~," Ochako practically sings, expression smug.

"Just do what the rest of us single people are doing," Denki waves Ochako off with a rude hand gesture. "Put down whoever you think is the hottest hero you wouldn't mind getting hot and heavy with. I, for example, have put down our very own Enigma."

"Sucks to be you," Hitoshi pipes up then, "cause I put down Hawks."

"I'm at least your second choice right?" Denki practically pleads.

"Zu's my second choice," Hitoshi immediately shoots him down.

"Hitoshi!" Izuku sputters just a bit.

"Zu, broccoli boy, the sunshine of my dark life," Hitoshi rolls his head enough to look up at him, "if you're not the first or second choice of at least half the people in this room alone I'll eat my capture scarf."

There's suddenly a lot of people very pointedly not looking in Izuku's direction.

Izuku can't help but wish he'd taken an extra patrol like Shouto did if only to have escaped this conversation before it ever happened.

"Seriously though," Hitoshi continues. "Just pick. Pick a friend or, like Denki said, pick someone unrealistic but hot that you wouldn't mind getting railed by."

Teeth chewing at his bottom lip, Izuku bobs his head in acknowledgment and turns his attention back towards his paperwork.

In the end he ends up filling the three blanks that have been provided out backward. His third spot is taken by Shouto and his second by Hitoshi.

They're two of his closest friends these days and neither of them is in a relationship like Tenya, Ochako, and Tsu are. No matter how hard Denki keeps trying to change that where Hitoshi is concerned.

But when it comes to that number one spot ,,,

Well Izuku suddenly can't get Denki and Hitoshi's suggestion out of his head.

Someone hot. Someone sexy but generally unrealistic.

A fantasy pick.

When Izuku thinks about getting absolutely railed as Hitoshi put it, there's really only one name that comes to mind.

Izuku only hesitates for a few more seconds before he finally breaks and fills in the final blank.

Hopefully the occasion will never come where Izuku has to explain to his entire friend group that his fantasy pick is the infamous Demon-sensei that still haunts the majority of their nightmares.

Besides, it's not like the Eraserhead would ever actually agree to help him out if Izuku did have to call in his EIC.

Six months later and Izuku will look back on this moment and cringe.

[pagesofkenna]

Isn't that... Literally what Post-canon does? It shows that they're not free from the Story- Narratively still bound to continuing a continuity, and still bearing the weight, the baggage, of all the bullshit they've gone through. Like, Post-canon has problems, but your description of a way to continue the story that makes sense... Is exactly how the story continued. No 'happy ending', but having to deal with their own problems and their messed up reality just as much as before, if not more.

ok 1) I haven't read postcanon so i have no idea what it does. the only bits of postcanon i touched were the snapchats when they got shared around tumblr, the fact that I played Pesterquest, and the first couple pages of Meat and Candy I read before they split and i was like 'actually f this'

(side note but the Meat and Candy story being like 'oh you want more of these characters?? do you want the RAW MEAT of a story that really DEALS with these problems, or do you want SUGAR SWEET fluffy nothingness that just makes you feel happy for a little time???' and half of us going 'uh neither we wanted the story to be over' and x'ing out is so meta appropriate and hilarious to me)

2) if postcanon does talk about them still being trapped in the story thats pretty freaking cool, but i didn't mean like... 'trapped' as in still effected by the things that happened in the story, i meant 'trapped' by the Narrative as an Entity

like, if a story ends with characters who have trauma to unpack and emotional baggage to deal with, thats good! most fantasy dramas do that. and we don't need to double the length of the story to address all these issues and go on new adventures until everyones Complete as people. a little bit of an epilogue that shows that the things character went through DID heavily effect them and that they're taking the time to heal is nice, but an entire multi-year story unpacking traumas and and dealing with baggage is frankly a bit much. when sequels do that it invalidates the catharsis of the original ending, and if your original ending has no catharsis it's not really an ending so much as another break between acts

the way Homestuck ended, with the kids walking through the door and Vriska consuming Lord English with the Juju, the way that got interpreted by me and most fans I know is that the kids were able to escape the story while Lord English got trapped within the story - thus, Lord English is 'already here' because there's nowhere else to go, whereas the kids are free and no longer here. it called back to the ending of Problem Sleuth, which was playing off the 'Escape the Room' video game genre, where the characters 'won' by finally leaving the building - the Homestuck characters 'won' by finally leaving the building too, and the building was Homestuck

(I also referenced the Truman Show in that original post - if you haven't seen that movie you really should, and also I'm spoiling it here, but it's about a man who's entire life has been fictionalized without his consent, and he works to try to escape the story he's trapped in. it ends with him finally confronting the person responsible for his story, and saying 'no, actually, i'd like to leave now' and he walks through the door and the movie is over. yeah he's got a ton of stuff to do next - therapy and hopefully a huge legal battle - but it's meta. he doesn't want to be in a story anymore, he makes the choice to leave it, and the story lets him leave. its over and done, and its SO cathartic. you don't need to explore all the nitty gritty to have a satisfying ending.)

in this interpretation the Homestuck Story is an entity to be escaped. and the existence of postcanon is a tongue-in-cheek way of expressing 'no, they didn't escape the Story. they won nothing at the end except for the creation of a new world'

and honestly? I don't think that's a terrible kind of story on its own to tell, I just don't see how its justified. to me it looks like Hussie (or whoever's doing most of the writing now) is just continuing on with the characters, exploring how they've changed and all that, with complete disregard for the fact that they escaped Homestuck and should no longer be trapped by a canon Story-As-Entity (the fact that it's even referred to as 'postcanon' reinforces this idea to me)

the only justification that makes sense is if we learn that the Juju didn't let them escape Homestuck. They're still trapped in the Story-As-Entity, without their consent and despite all their best efforts. In which case, what did the ending of Homestuck even do? did it trap Lord English in Homestuck 1 and release the kids into the new world of Homestuck 2, where they're still trapped? does the postcanon explore them trying to escape this or are they resigned to be stuck in a Story-As-Entity forever?

like I said, this could be an interesting kind of a story to tell, and if it's well justified somehow, and interesting enough to me personally, it might even be a story i'd read. but just from the outside, it looks like more of a 'we wrote a sequel because the original made us so much money/clout and we wanna keep milking it'. and without any further justification that just sees antithetical to the original Homestuck ending, which is why i've been almost completely ignoring the postcanon stuff

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 6

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 14k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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

Seohyun woke up with a groan, her head feeling heavy. She opened her eyes, blinking as the events of last night came to her. San was no longer here though. She checked her phone, and there was a text from him, saying his parents had called him.

After a shower and a cup of coffee, Seohyun sat in front of the television, thinking what she was gonna do. It was Saturday so they had no school, and she'd caught up on her sleep. She wanted to go out, but it was risky. The ghost- that evil, evil thing could turn up anywhere. Plus, she had no idea where Gayoung and Youngjae were.

Seohyun bit her lip as she thought about solving this problem; there was no way this ghost would come to her senses with mere words. It didn't look like she had faith in god anymore too, so a simple exorcism would be difficult. So what could she do? She had never dealt with such a dangerous one before, someone who was hell-bent on killing her.

And this time, it made sense why the ghost wanted to kill her so badly. All the evil ghosts she'd encounter in her life had never had an actual reason to harm her except being angry at life and whatnot. But this woman; what she had said made sense. And if it was true...

She wished there was another mediator she could consult with. But there was the matter of it being an inherited-once-dead thing. She could consult with the shaman she knew. Maybe he could help her communicate with a wise old ghost who'd actually give her a few tips.

The ghost's words rang in her ears: Don't tell me you didn't know? When a mediator dies, there is a short time period during which there is no other mediator in the world. That's when ghosts can do whatever they want; trespass, interact with humans, and much more. She cursed the previous mediators for not making an account of their knowledge and findings. She made a mental note to write a mediator guideline for the next unlucky person.

Seohyun got up, deciding she'd go to the shaman herself. No point waiting; she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. The shaman was not too far from where she lived. She would take a taxi, just to be safe.

Seohyun was wondering where those two siblings had disappeared off too. She had allowed them to come and go as they pleased; it was unusual for them to be gone so long. Seohyun reached the place where the shaman lived after 10 minutes, getting off and finding the doors locked.

"Just my great fucking luck," she sighed, going to the market right in front of that place and asking if they knew where the shaman had went. She found out he had moved recently. She mentally cursed herself for not keeping his business card with her; she would have to go home and check if she still had it. She usually made some other use of business cards, such as making airplanes and boats out of them. Her origami was going to be the death of her.

Seohyun was just calling for taxi when she felt her heart sink in, realizing the evil ghost was near. She quickly stepped into property instead of hanging around the street, but nothing appeared. Maybe she was going insane, finally.

After waiting for two solid minutes, she was about to sit in the taxi when she heard a voice say:

"I saw that pretty boy leave your house in the morning."

Chills ran down her spine as she finally met her eyes with the ghost. "And what of it?"

"I found it interesting that he has the sight. I was wondering how that could help me."

"What do you mean?" Seohyun paused- this was not happening.

"He can see me. He thought he saw me in the morning but I hid. So I, with the help of those two kids who were too scared to disobey me, led him somewhere. And if you are a decent human, you'd follow me."

"You're lying."

"Go ahead and check if I am," she countered.

With a wildly beating heart, Seohyun pressed call, once, twice, thrice. He was not picking up. She texted in the group chat if anyone had been in contact with San since today. And everyone replied they hadn't.

Seohyun sighed in defeat as she said, "Lead the way."

The woman howled with laughter, making Seohyun grit her teeth and want to strangle her, but she walked, taking her god knows where. Seohyun tried to ask if she really wanted to kill her, and if so, why wasn't she already doing it. Why wait?

They were out in a clearing, near the expressway where cars and trucks rushed in full speed. What was she gonna do, attempt a ritual? Seohyun didn't understand.

"Just tell me where San is. And don't even think about hurting me. You want me, you have me."

"Oh dear," the woman walked towards her, and Seohyun tried to keep her calm as she grew closer, circling her once before whispering in her ear, "I don't have you. Not yet."

Seohyun winced at her foul breath, the woman raking a nail across her neck, drawing out blood. "I can't give you a mortal wound. I can only hurt you so much. That's why you mediators have it so easy."

Even if Seohyun's neck was on fire from the pain, she felt a spark of hope in her heart. That would mean she could run- she could escape.

"But that doesn't mean I can't do it indirectly," the ghost smiled, baring her brown teeth, and it was the evilness in her eyes that made Seohyun gasp as she realized.

She had been stupid- but she had no guarantee that San was safe. That Gayoung and Youngjae were safe. She couldn't run, not exactly. The woman flicked her hand, and Seohyun winced at the sound of a car crashing. She turned sharply; the car had hit the truck. The car had crashed the other way, but the truck-

It was tumbling and was coming right for her- unnaturally.

Seohyun forgot about everything else and ran, but somehow the woman was able to control the movement of the truck. She jumped in an attempt to dodge, the woman was cornering her. She had no choice but to step on the road, but one of the speeding cars failed to dodge the crashed car and struck it, skidding across the road and hitting Seohyun with a tremendous force that sent her flying before her head hit the traffic barrier and everything went black.

The woman laughed even as she cried out in pain. She had emptied the last of her powers on this crash, and she screamed as she felt herself burn from the inside out. But Seohyun was surely dead- she had to be. If she was dead, this wouldn't happen to her.

The woman screamed one last time before disappearing into thin air- this time for good. But it was no good now. Seohyun lay unconscious on the road, bent in a painful angle as people surrounded her and called an ambulance. A student checked her pulse; it was growing weaker by the second.

Seohyun was rushed to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived; her heart flatlined once before she was revived again, having escaped death from a hair's breadth. She was put on hold for her surgery as they called her mother for consent.

Her mother had rushed into the hospital- face streaked with tears. She had only had time to touch her face once before she was taken to the operating room, and she sat on the waiting chair, motionless. Her friend, Aunt Yuri that Seohyun had always liked, had comforted her mother, making her drink water and relax a bit. All they could do was pray.

Seohyun's phone, which was now in Yuri's hand, rang. It was Yunho. Yuri picked the phone, inquiring if he was a friend, and when he assured her that he was indeed a close friend, Yuri revealed the accident to him.

Yunho had almost dropped his phone as he heard, terror washing over him as he realized it must have been the evil ghost's doing. He washed his face, sighing as he tried to control his trembling hands. He was not ready to lose a friend.

Yunho called and told each of their friends individually, keeping San for the last, frowning when he did not pick up. He decided to go to his home and check. Before he reached his home, he found San walking outside the house as if looking for someone.

"San, hey," Yunho rushed to him, "Why weren't you picking the phone?"

"I lost it, but then Gayoung and Youngjae admitted they had hidden my phone. I was just going after them; I don't know why they'd done so. What's wrong?"

Yunho bit his lip as he thought of how to reveal it to him. He told him then; Seohyun had been in an accident, and she was under surgery now. They weren't sure if she was gonna make it.

San put a hand to his head, shaking his head in disbelief. "Was it- is it because of the ghost?"

"Not sure," Yunho said, "But seeing how Gayoung and Youngjae hid your phone, it must be. Seohyun was trying to contact you all day."

"Shit. Shit!" San punched the air in frustration, his lip trembling. How had it come to this?

"Which hospital is she in? I need to go."

So Yunho and San took a taxi to the hospital, and Yunho kept a hand on San's trembling one the whole ride. He seemed intent to keep his calm. When they arrived, they asked the reception for Seohyun and rushed to the floor she was in. They saw two women right outside the operating room, and figured it had to be Seohyun's mother and her friend who'd picked the phone. They sat on a distance, and San put his head in his hands as they waited.

Yuri, who had noticed the two boys, came towards them, asking if one of them was indeed Yunho. "We're praying for the best, but the doctors say it's risky. You both should head home, this surgery might take a while."

"It's fine," San finally said, "I'll wait."

Yuri raised a brow but then nodded, saying she was going to grab some coffee for Seohyun's mother and she'd grab some for them too. After drinking and some comforting from both sides, having found Seohyun's mother fallen asleep, the boys decided to get some air.

They walked in the hospital garden which was pretty big, lit by several lamps, and some of the patients could be seen sitting or walking. San's eyes were on the ground; he was afraid if he looked up he'd cry.

Yunho patted San's back and he put his face in his hands, sighing. He'd never imagine this. And the way Seohyun had been last night, so scared, he should have known. The things she said, he should have believed it wasn't just her being paranoid.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa came along with Yeosang; the rest lived too far away and couldn't join at this hour. Yeosang looked visibly pale and he kept rubbing his hands as if he felt cold. Upon asking, Yunho told them she was still in surgery, and yes, her mom was here with a friend too.

They sat in the garden. Seonghwa had bought some sandwiches from home; he knew some of them wouldn't have had dinner yet.

"You should eat, San," he said, "We don't know how long the surgery is gonna be. It's no good if you're on an empty stomach." He handed him a sandwich and San halfheartedly nibbled on it. The rest of them were pretty much silent too, at loss for words. They found comfort in just being together.

After finishing, they decided to go up and check the situation and maybe go back home to sleep. San dusted his clothes as he walked, and stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a familiar voice call his name.

"San."

The rest of them paused, looking back at San, whose eyes were wide with terror. "What's wrong?" Hongjoong asked.

San dreadfully turned back as if not quite believing, and the water bottle he'd been holding slipped out of his hand.

It couldn't be.

In front of him was Seohyun, unscratched, smiling sadly.

She was a ghost.

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

"Seohyun?"

San couldn't believe his eyes. Seohyun stood unscratched in front of him, but it was not her. It couldn't be. She was in an accident, how could she be in front of him like this?

A cry of pain escaped from Yeosang as he realized, covering his ears as if that could mean he was wrong. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at each other, and Yunho stepped towards San, stopping when he found him staring in the distance.

"How are you... here?" San managed to ask, walking towards her, but she took a step back, leaving San's hand dangling in the air. His brows were furrowed in a pained expression.

"I don't know, San," Seohyun said, smiling sadly. San went for her abruptly, and his hand went through her.

"No... This can't be...." San's knees gave out and Yunho rushed to him, massaging his back as tears finally escaped his eyes. He sat down, his face in his hands, now almost touching the ground. Seohyun bent near him as if she could touch him.

"It's my fault," San sniffed. Yunho wiped his eyes, looking back Hongjoong- pale with shock, Seonghwa clinging to him, holding Yeosang's trembling hand.

"It's not your fault. It's that witch's fault. And you have to listen-"

"It's mine," San whispered. Seohyun bit her lip as she began to speak but was cut again as he said, "I'm sorry I didn't pick your phone."

"I know what happened, don't worry-"

"I'm sorry-"

"CHOI SAN LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND!" Seohyun shouted and San jerked, forcing his head up to face her. "I don't think I'm dead. Not fully, at least. You have to go and ask the details."

"What do you mean? You're a ghost, doesn't that mean-"

"Maybe not. Please do that."

San nodded, explaining to the others that there was a possibility she was alive, though it did not make sense to him. They started walking to the building, and Seohyun said, "And please wipe your faces. Don't show that you know anything. I don't want my mom to know that I'm a ghost, even if I'm dead."

San winced at that but did so, and they went upstairs in the waiting area, where Seohyun's mother was crying. Yuri was patting her back but looked okay. Upon seeing San and Yunho with other friends, she whispered something to Seohyun's mother, who casted a glance at them and nodded, and Yuri walked to them.

"Seohyun's alive for now. She's in a coma. The surgery was successful but this was unavoidable, so we can expect her to return sometime within 3 months or more, depending on Seohyun now. Can't say anything about that. You guys should go home. They'll let you see her tomorrow."

Seohyun sighed in relief despite herself, and the boys finally managed a smile and asked San if she was here. San nodded, looking at Seohyun. She smiled happily now for San's sake, but he was still gloomy.

"You're gonna smile back or I'm gonna haunt you in your dreams, Choi San."

San let out a short laugh. "I guess you can do that now. Let's go out."

They went to an empty street and San asked Seohyun what had happened. She told him how the woman had used San as a bait for her to call her out. San told her that Gayoung and Youngjae had only taken his phone, assuring her he'd been home all day. Seohyun assured him it was still not his fault, that sooner or later this would've happened.

"So where's the ghost now? If you're still alive, won't it come after you again?" Seonghwa asked.

"I'll have to ask around," Seohyun said. "I can actually teleport now. I'm gonna try and find Gayoung and Youngjae. They must have been pretty scared if they did her bidding."

"Stay safe, Seohyun," San said, and Seohyun brought her hand near his face as if she meant to touch him.

"I will. Don't worry. Go home guys, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll tell the others too now," Yunho said, "They'll be shocked."

"San, please tell Yeosang to stop trembling. I'm alive!"

San looked at Yeosang. He still seemed pale and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. So he did what Seohyun would have done for him; took his hands in his own, telling him it was alright. Seohyun was alive.

"I just can't believe it," Yeosang said, "For a second- when you said her name- I thought-"

"Yeah, I know, me too," San admitted. "It's alright. She's okay."

They waved her goodbye as they went home, and Seohyun cursed as loudly as she could, now that no one could hear her. Then she decided it was time to teleport to that hill, Gayoung and Youngjae must be given an earful.

She closed her eyes shut and imagined being sucked into space. The familiar tingling sensation ran from the top of her head to the tip of her toes; one moment she was here and the next, cold wind hit her face. She was there.

She peeked into the 'cave', basically a home to the ghost siblings. She found them sitting with their knees close to their chest. It was crazy how much they were like each other.

Seohyun cleared her throat and walked in, and the two of them stumbled back, almost falling.

"Are you alive?

"Are you dead?"

"Neither," Seohyun replied, "I did not know going into a coma would make me a ghost."

"Seohyun, I am so sorry-"

"Don't," Seohyun put a hand in the air, shutting them up. "Just tell me what made you do this."

"She threatened to hurt our parents. She knew where they lived. They're who we're staying here for, if she hurt them... I'm sorry," Gayoung looked down in shame.

"She actually asked us to 'take care' of San. We didn't promise her anything, just that he wouldn't interfere," Youngjae added.

"Well, thank you for that," Seohyun smiled, sitting near them. "It must have been hard for you both."

The two of them looked at each other, on the verge of crying.

"I swear if a tear falls down your faces, I'm personally gonna kick you out of this ghost realm."

Gayoung laughed a little, quickly wiping her eyes, and Youngjae did the same. They were just kids, Seohyun thought. They shouldn't have had to think it was their fault or anything.

"But what happened with the witch?" Seohyun asked.

"After she thought she killed you, we saw her screaming. We had just teleported to you when we sensed you were in danger. She just... vanished. And this time I mean like dissipated in the air like ashes. I guess she died again..." Youngjae said.

"Wow. Serves her right!" Seohyun sighed in relief.

"Did you meet San?" Gayoung asked and Seohyun nodded, looking grim.

"I don't think you should leave him alone tonight. He's gonna take this badly."

Seohyun's heart sank. She was right. Seohyun expected San to be alright, but that was just her own expectation. She wasn't actually so sure he would be.

"I don't know where he lives," Seohyun said.

"We'll take you to her," Gayoung said, holding out her hand to her and squeezing it, muttering an earnest thank you. Seohyun nodded, and they teleported once again.

It was an average looking house, much like the ones along the whole street. But somehow it felt more like a home than Seohyun's plain house looked.

"Do you think I can enter?" She wondered out loud, and Gayoung grinned.

"You should try. You should be able to since you're a mediator anyway."

Seohyun shrugged, taking a careful step forward. Indeed, she was able to enter. It seemed like she did have special benefits being a ghost. "I feel like I'm intruding."

"Oh he's your boyfriend, just go," Gayoung waved her hand at her, dismissing her as Youngjae grinned, wriggling hi brows at her. The two snickered, waving bye and teleporting back.

Seohyun stood awkwardly at the front door, afraid she'd be intruding their privacy. She paced back and forth, wondering if she should call San, or just go up and give him a little scare in the process. He probably wasn't in the mood for fun and jokes. She'd seen his face when he'd thought she'd die, and it was something she wished she could erase from her memory.

While she was biting her nails in confusion, she heard the front door open, and for a second, she panicked. But it was only San.

"I saw you from my window," he said, holding the door open, "Come in."

Seohyun bit her lip and nodded, entering. San closed the door behind him and led her upstairs. They went past his sister's room before entering his. Seohyun looked around, his love for plushies obvious by his large collection.

"Which one is Shiber?" Seohyun asked.

"That one," San pointed at the bed. It was a shiba plushie. San slept with it, it seemed.

"Poor thing," Seohyun grinned. San gave her a little smile as he motioned for her to sit. He sat on his bed and Seohyun brought the chair close. "Not how I thought I'd come to your home."

San shook his head, looking down. Seohyun almost leaned forward to touch him until she realized she couldn't. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not, to be honest," San began, meeting eyes with her, "I really thought you... were dead. When you appeared like that. I'm still not over that feeling."

Seohyun felt guilty. She'd found herself a ghost at the site of the accident, right when they were taking her to the hospital. She'd made it there, but she couldn't bring herself to step inside the hospital. She'd spotted San and Yunho from there. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no, you don't have to be," San shook his head, "Not your fault. I just wish I could... touch you right now. Hold you so I'd know you're real and it's not me going crazy."

"I know San," Seohyun almost whispered, "Me too."

They looked at each other sadly, and Seohyun put her hand in front of him, and for a moment San thought she was gonna ask for a high-five. "Put your hand here," she said.

San put his hand forward, and before he could touch, Seohyun pulled hers a little back. "No touching. Just... close. Like this," she put their hands close until there was only a hair's breadth of distance between them. San could have swore he could feel her warmth.

She smiled at him and drew her hand back. "The sibling duo was threatened by that bitch too. I feel sorry for them."

"That explains," San thought, "they didn't seem the type to just turn away like this."

"They apologized thoroughly. But it's okay now. It's only a matter of waking up from that coma... If I can make it."

"Keep your hopes up," San scolded and she smiled sheepishly. "How do you feel though? I mean, now that you're... a ghost. Does it feel any different that being a human?"

"I don't exactly feel weird inside," Seohyun realized, "But there does seem to be something different about this world now. It's like there's a veil over my eyes. Everything is a little cloudy now. Like I have bad eyesight."

"Does that mean you can't see me clearly?" San wondered.

"No, it's like there's a filter now. You know like the ones in the camera where you can decrease the clarity? That's how it feels. Weird."

San nodded. "Will you sleep?"

"I honestly don't know," Seohyun admitted. "I'll watch you sleep though. Maybe that might put me to sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep with you watching me," San huffed. Seohyun let out a short laugh and asked, "Do you want me to go?"

"No- stay. Please," he said, getting up to turn off the lights so there was only light from the little lamp on his desk. He lied down on his bed, facing her, watching her as she stood by the window, peeking out.

She was a ghost, San thought. He wanted her to wake up as soon as possible. He wasn't sure if he could live if Seohyun, god forbid, died and remained a ghost. He couldn't even imagine it.

As if sensing his thoughts, Seohyun turned, staring at him for a moment, those cheekbones pronounced in the shadows. She walked towards him slowly as he watched, and dropped to her knees in front of him, resting her head on the little space on the bed near San, and he crouched too, until they faced each other. She tested once, let her hand hover over his, putting it on top of him- but it passed through, making San shiver a little. So she drew her hand a bit back, until it almost touched at the fingertips.

They stared at each other, and San's eyelid drooped, shutting as he fell asleep. Seohyun closed her eyes too.

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

Seohyun must have actually fell asleep because when she awoke, when she opened her eyes, she was not in San's room but in front of her body, lying still with tubes coming out of everywhere. Her mother was sleeping rather uncomfortably on the sofa.

Her mother. She looked disheveled, and it made Seohyun gasp a little with surprise. She had always seen her so composed, so calm and full of control. She couldn't bring herself to go to her mother when she'd seen her crying of relief, back when they'd heard that her surgery had been successful.

She was glad that her Aunt Yuri had kept her company. She would have to thank her when she woke up. If she ever did. Seohyun shook her head, ridding herself of such thoughts.

Seohyun figured this was where she was gonna wake up every time she slept. She peeked out of the window to see that it was already morning. She felt like she hadn't slept at all, which was weird.

Her mother groaned, rubbing her eyes as she woke up. She looked like she had forgotten for a moment where she was, and as she took in her surroundings, Seohyun saw realization hit her as she jerked violently.

Her mother stared at her for a long while, before sighing and throwing her head in her hands. She thought her state must have been a nuisance for her ever-busy mother, but then she saw the tears fall down her mother's eyes as she hastily wiped at them.

She fell back on her seat, laughing, probably at the situation. And then she spoke:

"When your dad left me, I thought nothing could break me anymore."

Seohyun's eyes went a little wide at the sudden mention of her dad, who had passed away due to his heart problem a little after Seohyun's birth. Her mother had told her fragments of her life with him; they had met at work and fallen in love, spending a few years together before marrying and having a daughter.

"Your dad... he had my whole heart. So you can't blame me for my lack of love because it went with him to the grave. I tried loving you, and I thought it would be very hard. But somehow... I didn't even realize that I already loved you, way before you were born. I loved the thought of you."

Seohyun's heart sank. She thought she was invading her privacy by hearing all this... But technically, her mother was talking to her, wasn't she?

"I realize now. Now that you're looking like your dad in his last moments, I realize how afraid I am to lose you. If you followed him, I'd just be an empty shell."

Seohyun wanted to hug her mom and tell her it was alright. She wanted to give her a sign that she was here... but she figured it would do more harm than good.

"I hope you come back, Seohyun. My little girl. I promise to be a better mother, just- come back."

Seohyun's eyes shone with silver as she smiled at her mother's word. So her mother really did love her. She watched as she got up, straightening her clothes. "I'm going to distract myself until you're back. And then I will give you all the time in this world. Take you where you want to. Act like a proper mother that I should have done years ago. I'm- I'm sorry for not doing that earlier."

She walked to Seohyun's body, planting a kiss on her forehead and Seohyun could have sworn she felt a tingle of it too.

Her mother left after smiling at her, and Seohyun inhaled. She needed to distract herself too.

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

"I'm making a video of this, and no one is gonna stop me."

"What if someone sees it, Yeosang?" Hongjoong asked, shaking his head.

"I don't care," he replied as he did exactly as he had said. Make a video of Seohyun drumming furiously.

Except you could not see Seohyun and it looked like the drums were playing itself.

"I could start a YouTube channel and earn money from videos like these," he smirked.

"If you start earning money because I'm on the borderline of death," Seohyun had stopped drumming now, "I'll actually haunt you for the rest of my life."

San, who was watching the whole thing while sulking on the sofa, told Yeosang exactly what she had said.

"Good. At least I'll have company for the rest of my life."

Seohyun threw the drumstick, aiming for his head, and it hit home as he yelled in pain, a few colourful words escaping his mouth.

"You deserved it," Hongjoong laughed. Yeosang threw the drumstick back and Seohyun caught it, putting it down. She was done playing. She took the notebook they'd given her for communication and wrote: If I do end up dying, I'll help you all make money. At least I'll still be useful after death, you morons.

She held the notebook for them to read, trying to hide the view from San, but he ended up peeking too, and shook his head again, sulking even more.

"Back with her death jokes," Hongjoong looked at the book with disapproval.

Seohyun threw the book back at the table and came to sit with San, mirroring his sulking position. "It's so boring to have only you to actually talk to, no offence."

"Some taken," San said, "Be grateful I can see you. Imagine if I hadn't followed you that day."

"Actually grateful for that," Seohyun grinned. A ghost of smile crept on his face.

She heard the door of the warehouse open as the rest of them arrived. "Is Seohyun here?" Wooyoung asked, looking worried.

Hongjoong said yes, and he looked around saying, "Wherever you are, I'm so sorry about the accident, Seohyun. I don't want you to die, please come back! I can't lose you!"

Seohyun picked the pillow and threw it with considerable force at Wooyoung, who screamed and Mingi laughed. "Glad to see you're in good spirits."

"Are you okay though?" Jongho asked, having realized she must be sitting with San, "Does it... hurt or anything?"

San told them she said it was fine, it was just like being alive except no one can see her anymore which is making her sad and bored. He skipped the part where she had said that San was kinda boring these days too.

"Glad to hear," Wooyoung put the bag of snacks on the table. "I bought snacks, but... can you eat?"

Seohyun decided it was time to test that theory. She hadn't felt the need to eat, but she supposed theoretically she should be able to eat. She picked a packet of chips and opened it, the rest of them watching her curiously. She picked one in her hand, and then slowly put it in her mouth.

She could eat.

She danced in victory, making the rest of them laugh as Yunho hooted, "Time to loot the stores!"

"Nice idea!" She yelled back, coming back to sit with San, offering him some. He refused first but she made him open his mouth and put one in it. "This feels good. It's like being able to touch you."

San smiled. He felt that too.

Seohyun got up, going to Seonghwa and waiting for him to open his mouth. He was confused for a second but then opened, and Seohyun put the chip in his mouth. "This feels weird," he muttered, but smiled.

One by one, Seohyun put chips in their mouths, making them laugh. Yeosang filmed the whole thing, saying he was gonna make a compilation video once she was back.

San watched her with a curious look in his eyes. She had been acting a bit... different. More cheerful than she should have been. Or maybe he was too gloomy? When Seohyun came back, San folded his arms. "Did something... happen today?"

Seohyun got quiet for a second before she told him about how she had heard her mom talk to her. San wished he could hug her. Even though she sat right next to him, she felt so distant. His heart ached.

"At least now you know for sure that your mother does love you, in her own way."

"I suppose so," Seohyun sighed, folding her arms, watching Mingi and Wooyoung have a little brawl over who was better at drums, "I haven't ever seen her like that. Makes me want to not... die. Not that it's in my control anymore."

"Don't think like that," San turned towards her, "Your willpower is important."

"Is it?" Seohyun countered, and San narrowed his eyes. "I'll have to test that theory-"

"Do not even THINK of trying something reckless-" His voice was raising.

"I'd like to see you stop me-"

"HEY!" San got up abruptly, and everyone turned to look at him, "Does your life mean nothing to you?"

Seohyun instantly got deja vu. He'd said something like this before too. She stared at him as he groaned and pinched his nose bridge in frustration, pacing back and forth and then stopping again. "I thought your life meant something to you now. You had friends- you had us. We love you and care about you so much. I care about you so much. Your mother does. But all you care about is yourself?"

"San-" Blood rushed to Seohyun's cheeks as she realized, "I didn't mean-"

"You did mean it, Seohyun," San sighed, "I- I thought you finally had something to live for."

"San, I do. Believe me, I do."

San looked at her, shaking his head, and Seohyun felt like she could disappear. "Think about it, Seohyun."

He turned and started to go, and Seohyun grabbed his hand- or tried to- but it passed right through.

"I need some time to clear my head," he muttered as he left.

Everyone watched San leave the warehouse, and their eyes went back to where San had been standing, where Seohyun now stood. She felt disappointed in herself. She slumped down on the sofa, the others realizing she was still here.

"What was that about?" Seonghwa asked out loud. Seohyun just clenched her hair as she groaned loudly, cursing herself, glad nobody could hear her right now.

Hongjoong came and sat near Seohyun, saying, "If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Seohyun thought it was sweet of him. He'd brought the pen and notebook too, placing it in between them. Seohyun took it, scribbling in it.

I messed up big time

Hongjoong read it, scooting a little closer, the notebook seemingly in her lap. She wrote again:

I'm a disappointment to San.

Hongjoong shook his head, "You're not. Trust me, you're not." He took a deep breath, having figured out what the fight was about. "I know you've had it rough, and you're not used to all these new relations. But whatever happened, you can set it right. San won't stay angry, but he'll be truly disappointed if you don't."

Seohyun thought about, and didn't realize her tears were falling on the notebook. Hongjoong could see it.

"You haven't cried since the accident, right? You're very brave, Seohyun."

Seohyun laughed a bit as she realized, making her cry even harder. She scribbled Thanks in the notebook, putting it aside. She knew what she had to do. Apologize.

She got up, walking towards the piano. Seating herself, she tested the keys, giving everyone a little scare before she started to play.

It was the piece Joon Hyuk had taught her. It was utterly sad but beautiful, and it had took her months to get better at it. As she played, she realized her muscle memory was better now. So she lost herself in the sadness of it, her fingers dancing on the keyboard.

When she was finished, she opened her eyes, breathing. it took her a good minute to come back to reality, and when she did, everyone was staring at her. Or the piano.

"Tell me someone got it on their phone," Yeosang mumbled.

Seohyun threw her head back and laughed out loud as she watched the boys fight over why no one took the liberty of filming this moment.

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

That night, Seohyun was pacing in the park near San's house, wondering how she should make things right. A simple 'sorry' wouldn't suffice. She wished she could touch him, hug him. Maybe that would have put more depth to the apology.

She was out of options. And as she was muttering to herself about how much of a bitch she had been, San came walking in, stopping abruptly when he saw her still pacing and cursing. She hadn't noticed yet. So he shook slightly with laughter as he heard her rather colourful vocabulary.

Seohyun sighed, looking up, and finally saw San, her heart sinking to her feet. "Gosh, you gave me a scare," she put a hand to her heart as she breathed.

"It's not like you can die of a heart attack now," San said.

Seohyun paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

San shrugged, but lost his demeanor as he finally laughed. "Oh how the tables have turned!" Seohyun gasped, kicking a pebble at him, glad when it struck his leg and he winced.

She gave him a long look. "Are you okay?"

"I am," San said, motioning to the swings and they took one. As they bobbed lightly, Seohyun finally took a deep breath and said, "I am sorry, San."

"For what?" he asked, looking at her.

"For everything," Seohyun said. "I've been a terrible friend."

"No you're not," he smiled. "I just wish you'd give yourself more credit. You don't have to apologize to me. You should be apologizing to yourself."

"Damn, that's poetic," Seohyun said and she could've sworn she heard San mutter 'insufferable', but he still laughed. "Alright. I'll give myself more credit. I won't make death jokes again too."

"Now what would Seohyun be without her death jokes?"

"That is a very valid point," Seohyun smiled. "Alright, I'll just... be a better person. You know."

It seemed like San was enjoying her struggle to find words. "I know what?"

Seohyun's jaw tensed. "Be glad I can't hit you, San."

San smirked.

That cocky little-

Seohyun got up, searching for something to throw at San, who just laughed loudly as he ran away from her.

---------

Days passed. Weeks passed.

A month passed- yet Seohyun was not awake.

Every morning, Seohyun awoke at the hospital, no matter where she slept. She had made the warehouse her home now, since going back to her house was just a reminder that she was not alive, but not dead either.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this situation. The first few days, everyone had been super sensitive about what they said in front of her. But now, everyone was busy with school too. So Seonghwa advised her to attend school too, to not get behind her studies. But Seohyun said that technically, she was still in hospital which meant she could skip school now.

It took her one day without them, bored out of her mind, and she decided that yes, she would go to school too.

So everyday, she sat in her seat, not really paying attention to the lectures but still feeling like she was a part of this world. A part of the living.

And she'd help a lot of ghosts too. Ghosts didn't find her like they did when she was alive, but occasionally she'd stumble upon a lost ghost and help them out, saying she was 'experienced' in helping the fellow-dead.

She was out helping a ghost, a little girl barely 7 years old. She missed her mom and was still hanging on because she had to give her mom a gift, she had promised to. Seohyun's heart went out for the little girl, and she decided to help her.

Seohyun took the girl to her own house, and the little girl went 'wow' when she realized she could touch things now. So Seohyun gave her a nice page and colour pencils while the girl made a drawing. The gift to her mom.

Seohyun hadn't been home in quite a while now. She walked around her room, memories of San and Jiwoo coming to her mind. She smiled as she took the painting of Jiwoo in her hands.

"I'm done!" The girl said, and Seohyun placed the painting back, going to the desk.

"So your name is Yerim?" She asked and Yerim nodded. She had made a cartoon of herself and her mom, labelling it.

"That is a beautiful drawing, Yerim. I'm sure your mom would love it."

Yerim smiled and Seohyun pinched her cheeks. "Now let's give that to your mom."

Yerim guided her to her home, and they went inside, deciding to hide the painting in Yerim's room so when her mom would come, she'd find it, and think she had already made it before she died.

"Thank you, unnie!" Yerim hugged Seohyun and she marvelled at the feeling. She hadn't touched anyone since she'd been a ghost.

Seohyun picked the girl in her arms. "You're so light!" Yerim laughed and hugged her again. They got out of the house, walking randomly, Yerim still in her arms. The black cat started following them too.

"The cat can see you?" Yerim asked.

"Oh yes. When I was... alive, it was my friend. It's still my friend when I'm ghost."

"That's cool," Yerim said as she waved at the cat.

Seohyun asked, "Now that you have done what you stayed here for, you should go now. There's a better world, where you'll wait for your mom. She'll be there soon."

"Will she?" She asked and Seohyun nodded.

"Can we go to the park over there? I used to come there to play with my mom. It has so many flowers too."

"Of course," Seohyun looked at where she had pointed. The park was full of kids and their parents, playing around. "That's a nice place."

Seohyun dropped Yerim and she asked if she would be able to touch the cat. She squealed in surprise when she could.

"What's the name of this cat?"

"Ah. I haven't named it yet..." Was it Shiber or Byeol?

"You can call it Yerim!"

Seohyun paused. She got the strange urge to stretch her cheek.

"You're very cute, Yerim. I'll call her that," Seohyun smiled.

Yerim nodded, looking at the kids, and Seohyun watched her fade away. Feeling the sudden urge to cry, she shook her head and motioned for the cat to follow her.

After roaming around aimlessly, Seohyun reached the warehouse, finding it utterly dark. Not even the usual light was on.

"Where did everyone go?" She muttered, turning to go out, almost jumping out of her skin when she heard what sounded like a blast.

It was a party popper.

"Happy birthday!"

Seohyun turned to find everyone clapping and holding a cake, the only light in the room from the candles. San was laughing at Seohyun's horrified expressions. She truly had forgotten that it was her birthday. She shook her head, laughing.

"You guys, you're- how did you plan this?"

"It took us days to plan," San admitted, and Wooyoung said, "We had to think of a way you'd be busy today."

"But I was busy today because- no way. No way!" Seohyun looked at San in disbelief and he nodded. "I found her before you did and asked her to keep you busy. She was more than happy to."

"Wow," Seohyun shook her head, pinching her nose bridge but smiling at the effort.

"Blow the candles," Seonghwa said, and Yeosang took to his filming.

Seohyun felt strangely happy as she blew her candles, not bothering to make a wish. Hongjoong turned on the lights and she looked around, noticing the various gifts lying in the corner, and her favourite dishes on the table.

San led them to the table, where she cut the cake and made everyone take a bite from her hands. She couldn't thank them enough; this was the first time she had a surprise- or even a celebration.

"I wish the circumstances were different," Seohyun sighed.

San told them what she said and Yunho answered, "It doesn't feel any different. Only we can't see or hear you, so we have to visualize. Oh, and we get more jump-scares now."

Seohyun laughed, and they dug into the food.

After they all were done, they asked her to unwrap her gifts. So Seohyun grabbed the largest one first, which was from Yunho. It was a school bag, with space for laptop too.

"I noticed yours was kind of worn out," Yunho grinned. Seohyun scribbled on the notebook, saying 'Thank you for noticing! :)'. The others applauded him for the approval.

The next one was from Mingi. It was a beautiful leather band watch, which she loved, saying she wished she could put it on right now, and wondering for a moment that if she did, where would it go when she was back?

Yeosang had gifted her some chocolates from abroad, conveniently his father had been out of country. And since he knew her love for chocolate was one to be appreciated, he decided on it. Seohyun almost cried when she spotted her favourite ones.

"I do have another gift, but you'll have to wait for it," he admitted. Seohyun narrowed her eyes, scribbling 'It better be worth it' and moving on to the next.

Jongho had given her a scented set; shampoo, lotion and candle. Hongjoong got her a cap and sunglasses, rather stylish, and Seohyun had to admit she was impressed by his choice. Seonghwa had gifted her a black cat plushie- very, very similar to Yerim the cat. Seohyun admitted it might be her favourite gift. Wooyoung had gifted her a set of earrings, and she appreciated that it was just her taste. And San got her a couple ring, making everyone including herself gasp when they saw it.

"I didn't know what to get..." San scratched the back of his neck.

"No, I love it. It's so pretty!" It was just her style; a silver band with a tiny diamond in the center. Seohyun tried it on, showing it to San excitedly who laughed, approving. He wore his own too.

"Aw, this is so sweet. Except it looks like San proposed to himself," Wooyoung said, earning a smack from Seonghwa.

Seohyun took it off, handing it to San. "I'll wear it when I'm back."

"You wanna go for a walk?" San asked, and she nodded, getting up and asking him to convey her thanks to everyone, that they should keep this stuff here and she'll properly receive them and thank them when she was back.

After everyone said goodbye, San and Seohyun started walking aimlessly around, San telling her how it had taken them a whole week to plan, which included panicking over gifts too. Since it was their first time with Seohyun, it was more difficult to decide on what she'd like.

"I would have loved anything you gave me, even if it was stupid. I appreciate the gesture more."

"I know," San smiled at her. Seohyun was looking at him with a smile on her face, taking in the details on his pretty face, that she didn't notice a bike rushing and on its way to hit her.

Of course she wouldn't get hit, but out of impulse, San grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the side, "Even if you're a ghost, you should be careful-"

"How- how did you did you just touch me?"

San looked at her, then looked down at his hands, then looked at her again. "Did I?"

Seohyun frowned. Slowly, taking a step towards him, she touched his face, and they sucked in their breath.

She could touch him.

Seohyun laughed in disbelief, touching his face, feeling every angle and curve of it, and San's hands went to grab her hands, marvelling at the touch. He hugged her, not quite believing it until he could feel her arms around her.

Seohyun broke the hug, joining their foreheads, for a moment forgetting everything else as she kissed him. God, it had been too long. They kissed each other in a frenzy, until San felt like someone dumped water on him and he broke apart.

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know," Seohyun breathed, "I don't know, I-"

Seohyun fell to the ground, clenching her head in her hands as she cried out in pain.

"What's happening?" San asked, panic lacing his voice, and Seohyun muttered that she did not know.

"I think I'm dying," Seohyun said, wincing because of the sharp pain, "Or something's happening. I'm being pulled back. San- I'm scared."

San was sitting down with her now, holding her in her arms, caressing her head, "It's gonna be alright," he said, pressing a kiss to her head, "It's gonna be alright."

He didn't know how long he stayed there comforting her as she breathed and faded. And he did not know how long he stared at the empty space in front of him, where Seohyun had just been.

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

It was utter chaos at the hospital- the doctors and the nurses were rushing around, everyone was borderline panicking. Seohyun was going into shock- her mother was crying hysterically as she watched the doctors go around her in a frenzy. A nurse told her to pray- she would either make it or pass away.

Her mother watched her heart beat flatline and the doctors resuscitate her. Her mother almost fainted as she watched the monitors- she was having flashbacks from the time her husband had passed away. Her friend Yuri came rushing in, leading her outside, rubbing her back and telling her it was better to wait and pray instead of watch what was going on.

Meanwhile, San, who had been staring at the empty space in front of him, where Seohyun had just been, slapped himself to reality and called Hongjoong, quickly telling him what had happened as he rushed through the streets, trying to find a taxi. The boys joined him, their faces pale, and they ran to the main street until they found taxis and drove to the hospital, not being able to calm their loudly thumping hearts.

As soon as they reached the hospital, they looked at each other once, nodding, scared for what they would get to hear. Most of them were trembling now- but they followed each other to the ICU, where they spotted the doctors coming out of the room.

Yunho spotted Yuri and ran to her, "How's Seohyun? What happened to her?"

Yuri narrowed her eyes at Yunho, "How did you know...?"

Yunho internally cursed himself before making up an excuse, "I was passing by here when I heard the doctors call the others to Seohyun's room- I called the rest. It wasn't looking good."

Yuri nodded, "She's okay now. She's awake, in fact. Look," Yuri pointed at the door that was slightly open, and Yunho saw her mother smiling through tears, holding Seohyun's hand, who was smiling too.

Yunho sighed in relief, almost falling on his knees. He thanked Yuri and motioned the rest to join him, and the rest knew it was good news with the smile on Yunho's face. They watched the mother and daughter smile and talk to each other, and they hugged each other in relief, their eyes wet.

Seohyun spotted the group of boys outside, waving at them. The boys waved back and they watched her say something to her mother, who nodded, getting up after kissing her forehead and coming out.

"I never thought Seohyun could have so many friends one day," Her mother smiled at them.

"It's good to meet you," Jongho said, and they bowed in greeting.

"You can meet her now- try not to be too loud," she laughed, waving at them.

The boys walked slowly to her room, taking in Seohyun's appearance- there were shadows under her eyes, a few scars on her face and hands, but her smile was the only thing they could see.

"Come here. I missed you all so much!"

Jongho went first, shaking hands with her, the rest coming one by one, holding back from hugging her or ruffling her hair because of the bandages on her head and everywhere else. They were all a little speechless, having seen Seohyun after so long now.

Even San was speechless- he had seen Seohyun everyday, but not like this.

"I thought you'd be happier to see me," Seohyun looked at San.

"I... I am, I just-" San shook his head, looking down as he trembled from trying to hold back his tears, "I really thought... that you were gone."

Seohyun sighed, pursing her lips. "I have given you all a hard time, haven't I?"

They all shook their heads, Mingi and Wooyoung rubbing San's back who was trying his hardest not to cry but ultimately failed. Hongjoong said they'd give them a moment and they left the room.

"San. Come on, look at me. San!"

San sniffed, wiping his eyes before looking at her. Tears formed in her own eyes and she wiped them.

"I'm so sorry, San. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," San leaned forward, taking her hand in his- it had been too long. "Nothing to be sorry about, except scaring the shit out of me."

Seohyun laughed, "I scared the shit out of myself too, not gonna lie."

"I can't believe you're real," San admitted, bringing her hand to his face, reveling the feeling of her touch, "I am awake, am I not?"

Seohyun slapped his face lightly with her other hand. "Very much awake."

San took his sweet time not saying anything, just looking at her face, his lips on her hand.

"Say something, San. You're being weird."

San shook his head, kissing her hand. "I am never leaving you, ever. Get that in your head. No amount of death jokes are going to scare me away. You're stuck with me now until I die."

Seohyun flushed at the sudden confession. "Are you sure? I can make horrible jokes."

"As sure as I will ever be."

Seohyun smiled until she was laughing, tears running down her face. "God, I love you, San. I'm not leaving you too. Even if you're angry with me, disappointed in me, or whatever, I'll keep bugging you."

"Good to hear," San grinned.

"Come here," Seohyun motioned, and San asked her if it was okay. Seohyun just grabbed his collar and gave him a light peck on his lips.

"I can't hug you right now, but I can do this."

San smiled, returning the favour. They both stared at each other, smiling.

"Now that is a creepy sight I wish I will never see again. Tell me you got that on camera, Wooyoung."

"Right on," Wooyoung replied to Hongjoong, and Seohyun tried throwing her pillow at them, groaning in pain when she turned too harshly. San told her to calm down, throwing the pillow himself.

"It's our turn now, you've been seeing her for months now!" Yeosang shouted, and Seohyun laughed as she watched them push San out of the way, making him sit in the corner and pout while they sat in front of her, taking turns to talk to her.

"How did it feel while you were a ghost?" Wooyoung asked.

"Like I was alive, but not real?"

"Did it hurt when you became a ghost, or when you went back?" Seonghwa asked.

"When I went back, yes, I felt like my head was about to burst-"

"Can you still see ghosts now?" Mingi asked.

"I don't know yet-"

"Let her rest!" Hongjoong clapped once, "We'll have plenty of time to catch up when she comes home."

Seohyun pouted and Hongjoong patted her shoulder, "Glad you're back, Seohyun."

Seohyun smiled, wriggling her brows at him and they all waved at her before leaving, San coming to kiss her hand once before leaving. Seohyun sighed- he was being so soft.

Her mother came in, trying to stifle her smile but failing. "You have many friends now, it seems."

"I do," Seohyun nodded, smiling back, "I have a boyfriend too."

Her mother raised one eyebrow, putting her hands on her hips. "Lee Seohyun! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Which one was he?"

"The one who left last, San."

"Oh," her mother gave her a thumbs up, "How did it happen?"

Seohyun told her to sit because it was a long story, and then told her all about how she had met San, how he was able to see ghosts now too, because of her, and how they, at one point, started liking each other.

"Were you a ghost when you were in a coma?"

Seohyun bit her lip, nodding.

"And these friends knew?"

"They did. San could see me, but he couldn't touch me. At least not until tonight, just before it happened."

Her mother sighed, leaning back. "Is there a reason none of them, and not even you, bothered to tell me that you were a ghost?"

"I wanted to- I slept every night and woke up here, with you. I heard you talk to me. I couldn't break your heart, mom. Not when I wasn't sure if I was going to make it."

"I understand," She nodded, earnest, "How did this even happen?"

"It was an old ghost- a vengeful one. Apparently when you kill a 'mediator'- that's what they call me, there are a few moments before the mediator thing passes to another person. During those moments, ghosts can trespass and interact with humans and whatnot. At least that's what that bitch told me-"

"Language-"

"I'm talking about the ghost who tried to kill me."

"Oh, that bitch, go on."

"So apparently ghosts can't kill the mediators. So she tried doing it to me indirectly, which ended up killing her."

"Good riddance! But I hope you will have stopped seeing ghosts now. I don't want you to get in more trouble," her mother's eyes were full of worry.

"I don't think that happened, but at least nobody will try to kill me now."

The mother and daughter sat thinking for a few moments. Finally, her mother spoke, "You're getting discharged in three days. If you want to take a break from school, if you want to go on a trip, I can do that-"

"Thank you, mom," Seohyun smiled, "I just want to live like I had been living. Normally. We can go somewhere during the New Year holidays if you're free- otherwise, I just want to go to school, spend time with the boys, do normal stuff."

"I took extra days off," her mother nodded, "We can go visit your grandparents in the countryside."

"Sure! I haven't seen them in forever."

"You can go with the boys somewhere if you want to before New Year. I won't be home for Christmas- I have business in Japan. But if you want me home for Christmas-"

"Please, it's really okay, mom," Seohyun nodded furiously, "I won't be alone this time. Just promise you'll be home for New Year."

"I promise," she smiled.

"Done. I'll plan something with the boys."

Three days later, Seohyun was finally discharged, the bandages off her and she felt light. Seohyun took a look in the mirror when she got home- the wounds on her face would fade with time. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.

The boys had paid a visit every night, and it was time for her to return the favour. Seohyun decided she would buy something for them each- a Christmas gift, a gift because she woke up. She told them all to be there at night while she went shopping.

Two hours later, several shopping bags in her hands, she stood outside the warehouse. The air felt incredibly different now that she was alive.

Seohyun closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on her skin, blowing the hair away from her face.

"Home."

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

"Hi guys!" Seohyun stood awkwardly, waving the bags in her hands. The boys all turned, hooting as they rushed towards her, and for a moment, Seohyun almost had a heart attack.

"STOP!" She shouted, and they stopped in their tracks, realizing their mistake. "One at a time, okay? Go back and sit."

They obeyed, muttering things under their breath and San approached her, taking some of the bags away from her.

"Can I hug you first?"

"Not fair!" Wooyoung shouted.

Seohyun laughed while San glared at Wooyoung, "We'll have plenty of time later, but here," She gave him a brief hug, sighing into it. It was the first time she was going to hug everyone after the accident.

She had been discharged from the hospital the next night, after the doctors made sure everything was okay. The bandages were off now, mostly. Some scars remained- one running down her temple as well. She had been home the past days, not being able to meet anyone, taking her time to get her energy back, only going out shopping with her mom.

"Alright," Seohyun placed the bags in front of the table where everyone sat, "This is going to be a random pick. I got you all gifts for Christmas, so I'm going to pick a bag. Here-" Seohyun picked one, "Yeosang!"

Yeosang got up haughtily, flipping his hair, motioning at them to applaud and they did, faces grumpy as he approached Seohyun and hugged her, almost picking her up in the air.

"Don't crush me!" Seohyun laughed, and Yeosang finally broke the hug, patting her head.

"We didn't get you anything for Christmas yet."

"You don't need to, you got me enough for the birthday-"

"We'll just give you food then," Jongho suggested.

"Deal," Seohyun winked at him, handing Yeosang the bag. "Open it."

Yeosang looked at her pointedly, opening the box to reveal a small flying drone. Yeosang gasped in surprise and Seohyun looked proud.

"I may have noticed you doodling drones in your notebook."

Yeosang laughed and thanked her, saying she knew him well. Seohyun picked the next bag.

"Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa pumped a fist in the air as he ran to Seohyun, hugging her.

"You hug like my mom does," Seohyun muttered.

"Glad you're back," he said, kissing her temple before he broke the hug. He opened the gift to reveal a set of-

"Hey, how did you know to get me these!" Seonghwa looked at Seohyun in surprise while the others tried to peek at what Seonghwa was holding, who took the boxes out to reveal action figurines. Seohyun smiled as she watched the rest laugh in approval.

"When you guys crashed my first date and took me shopping, I may have noticed you eyeing these in the shop- I don't know what category they are- I just memorized one of the toys of that set and went there and found it, to my relief."

"You're very observant," Seonghwa eyed her and she curtsied, earning another thanks.

"Can I come next?" Jongho said, pointing at the giant bear wrapped messily lying in the corner, "It's a bit too obvious now to pretend I don't see it."

Seohyun bit her lip, trying not to laugh, "Please do."

Jongho smiled, skipping to Seohyun, hugging her such that she was dangling in the air, arms flapping wildly at the side, and then the two skipped to where the bear was- it was about Seohyun's size. Jongho tore the wrappers and laughed-

"You really had to?"

Seohyun smiled at the apple necklace the bear wore- it was a special touch she added to Jongho's gift. "I mean, I could have gifted you a crate of apples-"

Yeosang laughed out loud, causing the others to laugh as well, "The apples wouldn't have lasted a day."

"It's not that bad!" Jongho sulked, dragging the bear to the couch and hugging it, pouting. Seohyun shook her head at him, picking the next bag.

"Yunho!"

Yunho hooted in victory, pausing in front of Seohyun for a second before spreading his arms, and Seohyun gladly hugged him, laughing because she barely reached his shoulders.

"Glad you're back, you dwarf."

"Thanks, you giant puppy," Seohyun shook her head, breaking the hug and handing him the bag. Yunho eyed her before fishing out a long box, unwrapping it.

Seohyun watched as his mouth opened in surprise, and he looked at Seohyun, then back at the boys, then back at her.

"What is it?" Wooyoung asked, "Don't make me get up now-"

"How did you get your hands on this!" Yunho laughed out loud, taking out a wand from the box, "This is Harry's wand, right?"

"Harry's wand!" Mingi wowed, and Hongjoong shook his head, "Isn't this too much! When did you get the time!"

"Actually, this wasn't a Christmas gift," Seohyun admitted, and Yunho looked at her in surprise, "You remember when we talked about Harry Potter all day in school when I was... alive? Before becoming a ghost, I mean-"

"I do," Yunho shook his head, "You're still alive, you know."

Seohyun waved a hand in dismissal, "Anyways, one of mom's friends was in UK, and I had asked her to get me a wand from there, so I asked to bring another."

"I don't know- isn't this too much?" Yunho looked at her hesitantly, and Seohyun rolled her eyes, looking at San who was laughing silently.

"Shut up. Next!" Seohyun announced, ignoring Yunho and picking another bag. "Hongjoong!"

"When is my turn!" Wooyoung wailed loudly, Mingi joining, and Seohyun watched as the two started playing rock papers scissors to bet on who would be next.

"How did you even bring all these here," Hongjoong asked as he hugged her, long and good, "Wasn't it too much trouble?"

"It's okay," Seohyun rubbed his back before they broke apart, and Seohyun handed him the bag. "Here."

Hongjoong looked at her pointedly, "This looks the smallest."

"I can assure you, it was the most expensive-"

"Hey!" Hongjoong laughed, "I'm not opening this."

"Stop being so dramatic, we're waiting!" Wooyoung shouted, Mingi doubling over with laughter.

"I'll do the honours," Seohyun picked the box and tore the wrapper apart. "I had to."

Hongjoong almost dropped the box as he held it- it was headphones- but high quality ones- ones he wish he could have to make him hear the sound betters when he composed in his laptop. "Seohyun-"

"Don't-"

"How can I accept this!"

"You know I could get you better things- my mom's loaded. She was all too glad when I told her that you were the guys I was buying gifts for. Please, Hongjoong, it's not much."

Hongjoong shook his head, "I know it's not much to you, but to us, it is. I'd appreciate it if you don't spend money like that again-"

"Shut up," Seohyun shook her head, "It's my first time getting someone gifts. First time getting someone something meaningful, first time I actually put thought into all of this. First time I was excited. Please," Seohyun wrapped his hands in hers, "Accept it."

"You're gonna make me cry now," Hongjoong laughed, bringing her in for another hug. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

"Thank you for accepting," Seohyun laughed, and Hongjoong went back, flaunting his headphones as he examined them.

"Okay, Mingi, you're next."

Mingi almost fell as he got up in victory, waving his butt at Wooyoung and earning a smack, skipping as he came to Seohyun and hugged her dramatically, picking her and actually making her scream-

"Drop me, you giant!" Seohyun slapped his arms repeatedly, and he finally dropped her, pretending she had hit her too hard. Seohyun slapped his arm again, finally smiling.

Mingi went to where his bag was- finding two boxes- his recent two favourite anime's action figurines.

"You remembered!"

"I also got you the recent volumes!" Seohyun fished out another bag from under the table and Mingi wowed, checking as if he couldn't believe it.

"You have good memory! When did I tell you which volumes I had?"

"Some time in school?" Seohyun smiled, "I didn't know what else to get you- I already gave you the drums, I could have waited till Christmas I guess-"

"Oh come on, they're yours-"

"They're yours now," Seohyun announced, and Yunho started clapping, "I mean, I'm a co-owner. Deal?"

"Deal," Mingi ruffled her hair, thanking her.

"Finally now, it's my time!" Wooyoung came singing, almost running to Seohyun as he crashed into her, spinning her and kissing her forehead, "I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are alive!"

"Even if I was dead," Seohyun began, "I feel like I wouldn't have been able to move on because of you-"

"Hush, now," Wooyoung shook his head, laughing. "Hey, mine is the lightest! Hongjoong!"

Hongjoong was too absorbed in his headphones to respond and San finally got up, telling Wooyoung to hurry up so they could have 'alone time'. Wooyoung unwrapped his gift-

"BTS' ALBUM!"

Seohyun flinched at how loud he was and San came to cover her ears as Wooyoung shouted in surprise and amazement, thanking Seohyun to which she nodded, still flinching as he ran around flaunting the album.

"You brought this upon yourself," San laughed, and Seohyun smiled as Wooyoung crushed her in another hug, thanking her again and again.

"You want me to take it back!"

"NO!"

"THEN SHUT UP!" Seohyun shouted as loudly as Wooyoung who only grinned.

"I knew there was something about you that I just had to make you friend-"

"Anddd that's enough," San slapped the back of Wooyoung's head, "Let's go to dinner after an hour, guys. Meanwhile, I'm stealing her."

With that, San put his arm on Seohyun's back, guiding her out as the boys 'ooh-ed', making her flush. Seohyun couldn't help but smile as San led her out of the warehouse, taking her at the backside where the boys had set up a small place with a tent and couches for when the weather was nice and they wanted to sit out.

"I wish we could go somewhere else, but I don't want to waste this hour," San said, leading her to the couches, pausing to look at her, his hands hesitant as he touched her face, "How have you been?"

"Oh please, it's not like we didn't call at nights the past two days- I'm fine, really."

San touched the scar at her temple, kissing it, making her flush deeper, "I'm glad to hear that."

Seohyun pushed San's chest, "You're being too... mushy."

"Mushy?" San raised an eyebrow, laughing as they sat on the couch, facing each other.

"You're sometimes too romantic for me to handle, you know that?" Seohyun folded her arms.

"I haven't even begun-"

"Exactly what I mean!" Seohyun shook her head, and San laughed, scooting closer.

"Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed... us."

Seohyun bit her lip, scanning his face- the moonlight making his cheekbones appear sharper, his eyes dark.

"Can't say I didn't," Seohyun sighed, "Let me hug you first."

San brought her closer and she wrapped her arms around him, almost in his lap, her head resting on his chest as she sighed, melting in the embrace. "I definitely missed this. I could sleep right here-"

"Don't you think about sleeping now."

Seohyun smiled, burying her nose in his neck, inhaling the scent of him- it felt like nostalgia, like home. "I never thought I'd appreciate hugs one day- not being in contact for these two months really put me in my place."

San broke the hug, looking at her face, "I could tell. You got Jongho that bear- you know he doesn't really like skin-ship but watch him cling to that bear for the rest of his life. I realized then."

"You're right, I'm surprised you noticed," Seohyun admitted, "He and I are alike in that. I knew he'd love it. Oh, and also, I got you something, but it's not here yet."

"What did you get me?"

"Don't be too surprised when it comes," Seohyun grinned, "I wasn't too sure- yours was the hardest to think of, but it just happened-"

"Please, I'm curious now," San pouted, whining. "I won't be able to stop thinking now that you reminded me-"

Seohyun kissed him to shut him up, breaking apart to look at his reaction- satisfied to see his eyes wide in surprise and then narrow in challenge.

"I guess I could use a distraction. We do have an hour."

Seohyun laughed, kissing him properly this time, taking it slow- it was the first time they were properly kissing since she was back. San held her face delicately, letting her set the pace. Seohyun's hands were more urgent, running through his soft hair, caressing his face, his neck, roaming around his back and chest as they kissed lazily.

"Don't hold me like I'm gonna break, Choi San."

It was all San needed to hear- he kissed her with a force that got her arching back until her back hit the couch itself, and San broke apart to caress her face and draw her hair back.

"I love you, Seohyun. Merry Christmas."

"And I love you, you mountain," Seohyun smiled, "Now kiss me."

The rest of the hour went by as they kissed, murmured sweet nothings as they sat in each other's embrace, or just watched each other, hands caressing hands. The hour went by slow yet it felt like a flash once it was over and they were interrupted with Wooyoung shouting at them to come inside already.

Holding each other's hands, they went inside and sat with the boys to plan where to go for dinner. Yunho looked at the two and burst out laughing, Mingi joining him.

One by one, they all started laughing, leaving San and Seohyun who stared at them. Even Hongjoong and Seonghwa- the serious ones were laughing.

"Did you two only make out during that one hour?" Yeosang shook his head, "Look at how disheveled you both are."

San and Seohyun immediately looked down, but their clothes were straight, and their hair wasn't messed up-

It was only when all of them burst out laughing that the two realized this was a trick- and San covered his face as he laughed while Seohyun gaped at them, getting up in search of something- grabbing a small cushion and running forward to hit them-

"It was Yunho's idea, don't hit me!" Mingi wailed.

"You're still an accomplice," Seohyun laughed as she ran at all of them, hitting them once on their heads to 'get their brains to kick start'. "So what if we only made out? I'll ask you all when you finally have partners, you loners!"

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

It was the first dinner Seohyun had with the boys since coming back to her normal life.

And it was chaotic, to say the least.

People had mistaken them for being a bunch of drunks one too many times, the way they were hollering with laughter and talking about ghosts as loudly as they could. But everything was okay- Seohyun hadn't felt happier in a while.

After a very lavish dinner, they all walked around the town, making fun of each other and playing, and before Seohyun could decide to leave for her home and bid everyone goodnight, Yeosang told her they had one last surprise for her at the warehouse before she went home.

"And why couldn't I get this surprise when we were back at the warehouse just a few hours ago?"

"You'll know why," Jongho teased, "Just come."

Seohyun rolled her eyes, secretly anticipating just what they had in store for her, and followed them to the warehouse.

"We'll be right back- stay here," Wooyoung said, dragging Jongho and Yeosang with him while the rest stood outside, waiting.

"Can I have a hint?" Seohyun folded her arms.

"Uh, nope." Hongjoong was firm.

"Is it something about a musical performance or a dance performance-"

"Can you calm down and wait?" Seonghwa laughed.

"Is this going to be a prank?" Seohyun raised her eyebrow.

"If it was a prank I would have been inside with them," Mingi raised his hand and Seohyun narrowed her eyes at him.

"Me too!" Yunho grinned, and Mingi and Yunho shared a look which set Seohyun pacing due to nervousness.

"Calm down," San laughed, his eyes full of adoration, "You'll love it. It's all I am allowed to say."

Seohyun pouted, eyeing the warehouse, not hearing anything at all. Another minute passed by which Seohyun had scratched near her fingernails out of nervousness when Wooyoung peeked out, giving a thumb up.

"Finally," Seohyun exhaled, and San took her hand in his as they walked inside.

They were greeted by the Siamese cat that Seohyun had gifted San, who finally named her Byeol. Yerim was their stray cat and Byeol was their pet cat, who loved staying inside the warehouse- her home.

Seohyun looked around. Everything was the same, except there was a projector now set up in front of the couches. "Are we watching a movie?"

"A short movie, you could say," Jongho took her other hand, leading her to the couch and making her sit in the middle, San sitting on one side and Yeosang on the other, and Wooyoung made sure everyone was sitting in front of the screen before he put the lights out, grinning as he sat on the floor mat in front of Seohyun. Seohyun playfully kicked his back, earning a slap to the leg.

"Okay, I'm starting it."

Yeosang clicked a button and there was static for a few seconds before music started to play- music she realized was from one of the samples she'd heard from Hongjoong. She raised her brow at him, and he just winked.

Seohyun went back to watching the screen, which went black and then a video clip started playing- she frowned as she realized where it was from- school.

"Hi," Wooyoung said, "I made a new friend today, but she's kind of scary so I don't know when I'll be able to get a proper vlog with her- ow!"

Seohyun smacked Wooyoung's head. The teacher was about to come in. Wooyoung hid the camera and Seohyun said, "I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing-"

"Should I tell the teacher what exactly you were doing?"

"Boomer," Wooyoung muttered.

Seohyun laughed out loud, "I never heard you call me a boomer!" She smacked the back of Wooyoung's head again, and he laughed out loud.

"This is exactly why you didn't hear me!" Wooyoung laughed, rubbing his head.

The clip changed and Seohyun recognized the scene again-

"I win," Yeosang smirked.

"Next game, come on."

Seohyun drew another blank page and the two restarted another game of tic tac toe. This time, Seohyun went first and she won. Seohyun put a line on her tally count.

"This will go on forever," Yunho, who was watching them, said, "Whenever Seohyun goes first, she wins. Whenever Yeosang goes first, he wins. You both have this figured out- why don't you just shake hands and accept the draw?"

"No."

Yunho laughed as the both had glared at him and said no in unison, flipping the page and starting another game. Mingi, who was filming, turned the camera to himself and shook his head.

"They're never gonna stop."

"We did stop," Yeosang laughed, "Only because the teacher came."

"So who won?" San asked.

Seohyun sighed, smiling, "We shook hands and accepted draw."

The scene changed again, and it was from when Seohyun had first seen the warehouse and revealed that she knew how to play the piano- apparently Jongho had caught her playing the melody that she remembered from Hongjoong. It followed by the clips of the truth and dare game they had that night- the one when Seohyun finally told the boys that she could see ghosts. Everyone had a good laugh over it and Seohyun felt nostalgic as she watched Hongjoong's Billie Jeans imitation and Yunho's golden retriever. Seohyun had stopped them from filming the ghost evidence back then.

The clips that followed were all... ghost evidence. The boys used to play games with Jiwoo- like cards, tic tac toe, or such games, and Seohyun watched with her mouth open in disbelief as the amount of 'evidence' clips passed.

"Good thing Jiwoo's not here- if she was, I would have personally seen her out of this realm."

San rubbed her arm, laughing, "You never stopped them from filming."

Seohyun just shook her head, smiling as the clips changed to a compilation of their last day with Jiwoo, of them playing in the water, playing games and just laughing and having a good time. Seohyun felt bittersweet at the memories.

"Now here starts the fun part," Wooyoung winked.

And sure enough, fun it was.

"It appears my definition of fun differs from yours," Seohyun flushed as she saw a compilation of clips of San and Seohyun being the most obvious couple- looking at each other adoringly, holding hands, talking, etc. "I feel exposed."

"This was my idea- to put these in," San admitted, grinning at her flushed self, "I knew you'd like it."

Seohyun rolled her eyes but smiled, and they all watched the various clips from their outings together, until-

"Oh," Seohyun realized why this gift from Yeosang was late.

The drums playing itself, the piano playing itself, food flying in the air, cushions being thrown- all Seohyun as a ghost, and she had to admit the direction of this movie was clever.

"I'm going to wait till the end credits to comment," Seohyun muttered, watching the day of her birthday, smiling because it really looked like they had filmed the whole thing.

Seohyun's grip on San's hand tightened when she saw the clip from the day at the hospital when she finally woke up- the 'creepy sight' Hongjoong had referred to and Wooyoung had filmed- the sight being San and Seohyun staring and smiling at each other, their foreheads joined.

"You really had to add this?" Seohyun kicked Wooyoung's back lightly, making everyone giggle.

"This is like the epilogue of the whole thing," Mingi said.

The video ended with a picture of the 8- which Jiwoo had clicked on the beach. The end credits rolled, crediting everyone except Seohyun- even Jiwoo.

"Come on, I must have made at least one of the videos or pictures there-"

"In case you haven't noticed, you barely use your phone," Yunho retorted, and Seohyun pouted.

"So," Wooyoung turned, "What do you think?"

Seohyun couldn't stop herself from smiling, looking up as she felt her eyes burn, and the boys started chanting "DON'T CRY", making her laugh harder.

"This really is a gift from all of you- the memories, though I think I should thank Yeosang first," Seohyun smiled at him, taking his hand, "Thank you. You didn't have to waste your time on this."

"It wasn't a waste of time," Yeosang shook his head, "I had this idea when you were still... a ghost. So instead of making it bleaky with only ghost memories, I decided to do something like this. Wooyoung helped me a lot too."

"You all make me cry too much," Seohyun wiped the corners of her eyes, "I was never this emotional-"

"Oh please," Seonghwa shook his head, "If we had a clip from every time that you cried-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Seohyun laughed, "Thank you, all of you. This, us here right now, is the greatest Christmas gift I could have from anyone of you-"

"Now don't go being all sentimental on us, Seohyun-"

"Ugh, you guys don't let me breathe!" Seohyun glared at Jongho, who was doubling over with Mingi, "I'm saying it again, and you all better not interrupt. I really love you guys. It's been a great few months, despite the bad things that happened. I wouldn't have made it back without you guys. Thank you for everything."

They all smiled, Seohyun taking time to make eye contact with everyone.

"Thank you for sticking with us, I guess," Seonghwa grinned.

Wooyoung nodded. "I know we can be a loud bunch-"

"You don't say," Seohyun muttered.

"See, you interrupt us too when we're all sentimental!" Wooyoung turned to glare at her.

"Hey, who's idea was it to befriend me again?" Seohyun shrugged, "You brought this upon yourself-"

"It was because we thought a girl in our group would so us good! If I had known you talked and sat like a guy-"

Wooyoung shut up when Seohyun kicked his back, harder this time, making everyone howl with laughter at the two of them bickering.

"Hey, she can be girly when she wants to be-"

"You're not helping, San!"

"It's imitation time, Yunho!" Yeosang called his attention and Yunho bowed, getting up and preparing himself to act like Seohyun.

He walked a few feet away, rolling his sleeves up, which already had the boys laughing, stealing Hongjoong's cap so he could complete the 'Seohyun' look.

"So here's how she walks-" Yunho hunched his shoulders a bit, his eyes darting here and there as he walked with light steps- a habit Seohyun had to make as less of a sound while walking as she could.

"It's because I look out for ghosts!" Seohyun folded her arms, slumping back as the boys laughed at the near perfect imitation, almost howling when Yunho slumped in the chair, sighing, legs apart but feet together, arms folded.

"That's perfect," Yeosang managed to say between laughter. Seohyun clenched her jaw, trying not to laugh.

"I feel exposed..."

"But that's how you really are like, baby," San scoffed.

"I could have been like one of those girls who's always walking like a model, sitting like this-" She tried mimicking those formal sitting positions, "And has her lashes fluttering every second, and is always worried about how she looks."

"See, I knew you'd fit in well with us," Wooyoung grinned, and Seohyun threw a pillow at him as San and Wooyoung started to bicker about Seohyun.

Seohyun smiled as she pet the cat that was now in her lap, looking around at the boys, all smiles and laughter, no worries. Yeosang noticed her expressions and raised his brows.

Seohyun smiled.

"This really does feel like home."

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

Thank you for reading and supporting! <3

[hexpea]

Ch. 24 - Settle In

Kento walked with you back to his place, still stuck in the haze of being caught fucking in the bathroom. He absolutely never imagined himself to be a rule breaker, not to mention a rule breaker of that kind. But he couldn't deny it...you brought something out in him that no one else could.

"Yaga's not going to do anything," you chuckled in an attempt to make him feel better. He had remained silent the entire walk to the station, nothing you said able to shake him. "It's not like any of the students were around. We're two consenting adults."

The two of you had reached the subway, standing in line to wait for the train. Kento took in a deep sigh, at least doing something to try and calm himself down.

"We could be banned from the school, labeled as sex offenders," he grumbled, checking his watch as if he weren't still panicking - but you could read him like a book.

"They're not gonna' go that far," you reassured him by placing a gentle hand on his upper arm, "Satoru won't let them even if they wanted to."

Despite your attempts, Kento was still shaken up by the event - remaining quiet all the way home.

"I mean, do you want me to call Satoru? I'm sure he'll be able to tell us what Yaga's gonna' do, if anything," you offered as the two of you settled into the apartment, removing shoes and whatnot.

Kento's lack of response told you enough, so you pulled your phone from your pocket and began dialing your brother. The phone rang and rang until his delightfully crude voicemail message sounded off, finishing with the familiar loud beep. Instead of a message, you simply hung up.

"Weird. They should just be sitting in the observation room. No reason he wouldn't pick up..." you thought out loud. "Oh well! We'll find out later!" You shrugged. "But for now, you need to get rid of that tension in your shoulders!" You had walked to him, reaching up to squeeze his hardened muscles.

He sighed loudly as you began dragging him down the hallway to his bedroom. He had a happy, little smirk as you forcibly turned his body around so his back faced the mattress and shoved him down on the soft material. As he laid there, you turned and began rooting through his drawers to choose some loungewear. You settled for a white, cotton t-shirt and a pair of gray sweatpants - thinking to yourself what you'd wear to be comfy. From there, you tossed the clothes at Kento to which he chuckled and sat up - beginning to unbutton his top. You playfully giggled and shoved him back down. While his head hit the bed again, he continued unbuttoning while you worked on his pants - starting by pulling the leather strap of his belt quickly through the loops.

You struggled to get his pants around his ankles, desperately wanting to be as much help as possible even if it meant being a nuisance. You hadn't noticed, but Kento had already switched out his shirts and was watching your cute, agitated expression as you tried your best.

"Don't worry about it," he finally interrupted, still holding that warm smile in appreciation for what you were trying to do. He then stood up and slipped the sweats on with ease and followed you back to the main living area.

He began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets but you quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled him away.

"No! Let me!" You poured like a child while dragging him to the sofa.

You shoved him down yet again. He watched you, dumbfounded, as you aggressively grabbed the remote and turned on the station he usually had it on.

"You don't move tonight," you commanded, tossing the remote in his lap.

"Yes, ma'am," he chuckled, placing the remote back on the end table next to him.

You meandered back to the kitchen and blankly stared at all the cabinets. You hadn't cooked a day in your life. You never had to...meals were always somehow prepared for you by others - not because you were necessarily spoiled but just because that chore never really fell on you. You began searching through your phone to find recipes but it all looked so complicated. Eventually you settled on something familiar: pasta. It was so generic but it was something Kento made often and you attempting to make it was a great homage to his work.

Kento would peer back at you from time to time, primarily to make sure you weren't setting anything on fire. It ended up being quite easy, just boiling water and adding the pasta. Kento kept jarred sauce so no need to hand make anything complicated.

When you finished, you proudly placed a plate in his hands and curled up on the sofa next to him. You waited for him to take his first bite, eyes wide and hoping for praise.

"Not bad," he nodded, taking in another bite, "a little al dente, but it's better that way." His critique made you blush. You felt bad for making it that way but his encouraging tone kept the thought from haunting you.

The two of you finished dinner while watching some random movie on television. With the plates now on the coffee table, you rested your head on his lap while he grazed the side of your head, repeatedly pushing hair behind your ear. He nearly had you falling asleep until you heard the deep sigh from above you.

"You okay?" You asked, turning your eye toward him - straining just a bit to get a good look from your position.

"Yeah," he sighed again, "just a headache." He was still stressed from the earlier encounter and dwelling on it gave quite the migraine. Luckily, you knew just the trick.

You darted back to the kitchen, Kento watching as you got out another pot and started boiling water on the stove. You then began rooting through the drawers in search of some kind of rag, eventually finding one and throwing it into the pot of water.

"Weird question, but do you have lavender? Like, usually used for tea and stuff?" You asked, pausing your speed momentarily to look in his direction.

"N-no?" He furrowed his brow, wondering what you were even doing.

Instead of answering his questioning intonation, you simply warped to the Don Quixote down the street and picked some up - coming back within two minutes. At least my power is useful for something! You thought. You tossed some of the dried leaves into the water and stood by, nearly hypnotized by the bubbles as the scent began to fill the room.  You heard Kento sigh again, but this time it sounded a bit more satisfied. You glanced in his direction to see that he had slouched on the sofa with his head resting against the cushion, arms outstretched in either direction as the scent already began to relax him.

When it was good and ready, you carefully took out the rag after turning the heat off. You quickly rung it out, folded it, and snuck over to Kento who had his eyes closed and head still laid back. He jolted just a bit as you placed the warm rag over his eyes, the heat quickly dulling the ache in his temples.  You knelt behind the couch as he relaxed, a warm and gentle, close-lipped smile on his face. You gave a slow and tender kiss to his hairline and then rested your head beside his as he unwound from the pent up stress.

"Where did you learn something like this?" Kento asked quietly, lifting the rag just a bit to take a look at your pretty blue eyes. You smiled back and brushed some of his loose hairs from his face that were slightly damp and had clung to the rag.

"Satoru and his headaches...mine, too, once I got my powers," you explained just as quietly, "six eyes can be quite overwhelming. He used to get headaches all the time from not wearing and protection so I usually helped him out."

"It really works," he chuckled and placed the rag back over his eyes, taking in a deep breath of the floral scent. You had to admit you were enjoying it, too.

Eventually you grew tired of the floor and walked back to the kitchen where you poured two glasses of wine. You made your way back to the sofa and gave him a glass once he removed the rag which was now too cold to satisfy.

"Headache gone?" You asked, curling your legs underneath yourself as you sat down beside him - allowing your body to fall into his.

"Yeah," he smirked and kissed the side of your head as you took a sip from your glass.

Another movie began playing on the screen and Kento utilized his phone to turn down the lights. The two of you felt tired after a long day of preparing for the exchange event, not to mention the trouble you got into.

Considering both of you were lightweights and you poured quite a hefty glass of wine, the room began to slightly spin as you rested on his shoulder. The room became dark as the credits rolled up the screen, the sun already set.  Through the dark, you looked up at him - the peaceful quiet of just piano credit music filling the room.

"I knew it was a sad one, but I didn't think you'd be one to cry, Kento," you chuckled quietly, bringing a finger to his cheek to wipe a stray tear that you found glistening in the dim light.

"It's not from the movie," he chuckled back, wiping the rest of it away, "it's from you." He leaned down and pressed his lips to your forehead. "I'm just really happy for once."

"Kento..." your voice wavered ever-so slightly at his words, both out of happiness but also out of sorrow. Neither of you had an easy time, this moment of peace was just what you needed after what felt like a long battle to get there.

"I love you," his look was completely serious through the dark. You had said it so many times to one another at this point but this one felt so full of meaning, you felt a lump grow in your throat - nearly joining him with a few little tears.

"I love you, too," you returned, quickly latching your arms around his neck and parting his lips with yours.

He returned the kiss with the same passion, gently holding your cheeks with his strong, calloused hands - fingers slightly tangling with your white locks. With the natural direction of things mixed with animal instincts, you found yourself straddled against his hips.  You suddenly felt a bubble of emotion again, this time in the form of giggles that danced their way into his mouth. You pulled away as the giggles became too much.

"What's wrong?" He laughed a bit at your pink face and big smile.

"I was just thinking about the closet again," you took a deep breath in order to get the sentence out.

"Oh? What about?" He inquired, resting one hand on your hip and using the other to push strands of hair from your face.

"Just how that whole thing went. We took it so far," you rolled your eyes up to the ceiling in an attempt to visualize it. "I was...so smitten. And you were a virgin! Or so you tell me," you crossed your arms and playfully narrowed your vision.

"Y-yeah," he blushed and looked away, "I've watched things...and being around your brother didn't help. Or I guess in that case, did help. At least before he started seeing...Geto."

"Yeah...he'd bring home anyone quite honestly," you rolled your eyes, "it was a miracle I got any sleep when living under the same roof. He's been...celibate as far as I've noticed while living with him again. I feel so bad about the whole thing...I can't imagine losing the love of your life, let alone having to be the one to...put him down."

"He's been otherwise his usual self," Kento said quietly, still stroking the side of your face - his gentle touch comforting as you leaned into his fingertips.

"I worry about him," you sighed, "but he refuses to talk about it. It doesn't help that I..." you trailed off, hoping context got to him - which it did, his body quickly stiffening. "I had needs!" You defended.

"I understand," he stopped you, "we weren't together and I...rejected you."

"Were you with...anyone else?" You asked, hesitant to hear the answer.

"No," he answered straight-forwardly. "I have no interest in sex or relationships...besides you. Don't get me wrong, I...tried, but I couldn't get..." he glanced down at his crotch which was mostly covered by your body that was still straddling him. You covered your mouth to hide a tiny giggle to which he looked up at you with an "are you kidding me?" kind of expression.

"Kento..." you stopped yourself and looked toward him with a genuine smile, "you might be demi. But that's another conversation."

"Well, we do have quite a bond," his firm hands now rested on your thighs, thumbs rubbing light circles.

"Yeah," you agreed, cheeks turning pink, "I don't think I could live if something happened to you." (cries in Shibuya)

"Y/N..." you knew what was coming: the usual scolding of "it's all in the line of duty."

"Have you considered retiring again?" You quickly asked, interrupting him before he could continue.

"I..." he was about to start, but your phone began to vibrate.

"Oh, it's Satoru," you stared at the glowing screen before hitting the green button on the touchscreen. "Hey! How'd the exchange go?"

"You'll never guess what happened!" Satoru's voice rang out through the receiver, forcing you to hold the phone away from his face. "Make sure I'm on speakerphone so Nanami can hear!"

[elenajohansenreads]

Books I Read in 2021

#55 - All In: Double or Nothing, by Lane Hart

Mount TBR: 52/100

Rating: 1/5 stars

I finished this solely because it was a constant train wreck and I wanted to see how the love triangle/menage crashed out in the end. It was not a good book, it did not have a good plot or good characters, and while I have no objection to indulging in a smut-fest for its own sake, honestly, the copious sex scenes weren't great either.

First, it can't decide if it's a menage romance or a love triangle, and in trying to split the difference, you end up with a lot of really awkward dynamics. Our heroine comes off as being a selfish, indecisive idiot who doesn't mind hurting these two men with her dithering, while Heroes #1 and #2, who were best friends before this woman entered their lives, are reduced to constant fighting (both with words and physical violence) about which one of them is going to "win" her. It's gross all around.

Second, it utterly fails at being a love triangle if that's what it really means to be, because Heroes #1 and #2 are basically indistinguishable from each other. Sure, they have different names, and are introduced with different hair colors on the heads that top their identical muscle-bound bodies. Okay, fine, they're both super hot, but they talk the same way, they both bond with the heroine in basically the same way--lots and lots of sex, and very little talking--and they're both immature jerks trying to one-up the other until the heroine finally decides on one of them. (To be slightly more fair, one of them is supposed to be a little more sweet, while the other is supposed to be a little more "caveman," but the difference between them only matters briefly at the beginning, then dissolves into no real difference at all when they both decide to be idiots about the whole situation.)

Third, the heroine's backstory is over-the-top tragic but doesn't actually matter, because the story isn't at all about any trauma she's suffered. I guess it's supposed to be a reason to pity her and let her get away with this awful behavior? But I don't buy that, and on a larger scale, it's Problematique (TM) to have your young heroine be traumatized and abused and a sex worker, and then make her a complete nympho in her personal life, because that says to me that, as a character, she's so damaged that the only way she can connect with someone is through sex, as a substitute for love, and that's not at all what this story is about! The narrative claims she's falling in love with both dudes, and the plot doesn't deal with her past in any significant way or show her growing as a person.

Fourth, the dudes are also pretty problematic, because one is a cop who meets the heroine when he responds to her car accident, and he immediately goes full-pervert and nearly drools on her while he's supposed to be doing his job. And then hits on her and asks her out while he's giving her a ride in his squad car. NO NO NO. Second dude is a little better when he first meets her, except they're at a bar (where she's supposed to be meeting dude #1, but he's late) and when she admits to being twenty, so she can't drink, he buys her a drink! Illegal! And then it's not entirely clear at first how drunk or sober she is when she bangs him later that night, until afterward when she's puking her guts up in his bathroom...so she definitely wasn't sober enough to consent to sex. Hero #2 got an underage woman drunk and took her home to bang her, and that's not what I want to see in my romantic leads.

Fifth, the plot makes no sense. There's very little of it, because this is smut, so I didn't expect much to string together the many sex scenes, but this plot? Makes no sense. There's actual cheating going on before the three of them enter the menage stage of the relationship, but instead of that being a deal-breaker for the cheated-upon party, they go for a shared-custody sort of situation and the shenanigans begin. Nobody acts in a way that makes any sense, except, notably, late in the story when the heroine is pissed that her men paid off her school tuition without asking her first, and they were boggled that she was angry. That was just about the only set of emotional reactions to anything in the whole story that felt genuine, because yes, they were being controlling when they thought they were being helpful, so of course they were confused by her anger.

Sixth--I won't spoil what the ending actually is, just in case anyone who gets this far in my review does honestly still want to read this book, but I will say that I was not satisfied by it.

I'm glad this was a freebie, I'm sorry I wasted a few hours reading it, and I won't be reading anything else by this author.