#my writing process is so discombobulated I have no idea how I do it

[nibwhipdragon]

OK I AM VERY INTERESTED IN YOUR WIPS

"I'm sick in the head" AND "Coughs and wheezes" ARE REALLY COOL IDEAS??? I WANNA HEAR MORE ABT THOSE!!!

OK THEN, YOU SHALL HEAR MORE ABOUT THEM

Putting this all under a read more just in case it gets too long, which I don't think it will? But just in case

Hi it's me from 7 hours later. This thing got Long. I'm sure you expected that, as we constantly enable each other to rant for ages, but yeah. Coughs and wheezes I have a Lot of thoughts on, it takes up the majority of this. Enjoy this bestie <3

Ok, I will start with I'm sick in the head first. Like I've already said, it's a lil oneshot about Joseph and The Horrors he has to put up with during Battle Tendency. Personally, I do think the reason he jokes so much and everything in pt2 seems to not affect him (unlike Jotaro, who has Problems in the later parts due to pt3) is because he's been through too much, and developed a sort of apathy for all stuff like that as a result. Like he just. Cannot properly give a shit about things like the rings and such at that point in his life. It'd also explore my ideas on Joseph having a bad childhood leading up to him developing this apathy, with my thoughts on Speedwagon and Erina comparing him to Jonathan so much (in a well meaning sense ofc, it's just that the comparisons....aren't too good for Joseph's perception of himself). It'd also explore the sorta stuff Joseph would've gone through as a kid in school and such too, because. Yeah being neurodivergent in school is bad nowadays, god forbid him being neurodivergent in the education system in the 1920s.

The fic takes place from Caesar's POV, in which he experiences abject horror towards finding out that Joseph, the person he's come to admire and respect so strongly is so broken. I've been trying to write it for a while, just got into a rut with it and...stopped.

Coughs and wheezes is a much more recent WIP...sorta? I just couldn't stop thinking about this fic I wrote for caejose week, and it just all unravelled into the plans for a longfic rewrite. The whole thing would mostly explore the stuff canon would not (Battle Tendency could've been SO MUCH MORE), as well show the aftermath of pt2 instead of just. A simple short epilogue. Araki did NOT elaborate on the effects that All That would've had on the cast, both physically and mentally (JOSEPH'S KNEE GETTING MELTED WITH SUPERCHARGED HAMON HELLO???????). And Lisa Lisa and Joseph ough. What an interesting duo (ill over them both). Their relationship would be explored much more in the fic than in canon. Just. Holy Shit Lisa Lisa That Is Your Son WHAT Are You Doing. I am 100% convinced that she isn't mentioned in later jjba parts at all(excluding Araki's writing being Like That, as well as misogyny) is because of her telling Joseph that she was his mother and him just. Being rightfully pissed at her because of all she put him through and simply deciding not to talk to her again unless necessary. Lisa Lisa is actually such an interesting character this fic will 100% have a look into her being Like That too.

Honestly this fic would just be expanding on all the characters, really. Like do you ever think about Kars and how he immediately dropped the honour act the moment Whammu died as if Whammu would turn against him at the drop of a hat if he was dishonourable in combat, though still being shown to harbour at least some sort of care for the other Pillar Men, not really viewing them as tools like he viewed Santana. Do you ever think about him becoming the Ultimate Lifeform with nobody left to share it with he would have to spend eternity with nobody with him. So incredibly lonely. You ever think about how he seems to despise humans but care for "lesser beings" like dogs. You ever think about how pt2 takes place after the industrial revolution, in which things became a lot more polluted and cities would be ridiculously smoggy and such. And I am absolutely certain that in their hunt for the stone they would've come across nazis and that. And they very likely would've heard or seen what their ideals were. Yknow. Eugenics and anti-semitism and racism and all that, trying to "prune" the human race into being "perfect" like they were Gods, above everything else. You ever think about how his drive to get the stone and become the Ultimate Lifeform may have at this point in time also be to put the human race in their place and remind them that they are not Gods and they shouldn't act like such. Actually thinking about genocide, don't you find it kinda odd that Kars ended up wiping out almost the entirety of his race JUST for clashing ideas on his desire to become the Ultimate Lifeform? There had to be something else going on istg

You ever think about Caesar and his past. You ever think about how he was poor and homeless. Him and his siblings getting ill would be TERRIBLE for them, with no way to stay safe and recover from illness peacefully, and no way to get medicine if needed. You ever think about how to avoid illness is to keep clean, eat non-contaminated and clean food, to not live in dirty places that would create a good enviroment for bacteria and such to thrive in. You ever think about Caesar and his whole thing with soap. You know. The thing you use to clean with. His whole past, with him being homeless and poor actually affects him quite a lot, like he dresses in fancy clothing, and eats at nice expensive restaurants now that he's got the money. He doesn't want to waste the opportunity to have all that now that he's no longer poor. He doesn't want to waste any opportunities at all, actually now that I think about it. He wanted to not waste the opportunity of attacking the Pillar Men during the day so badly he died. And, of course, when you're homeless you absolutely have to take every opportunity that comes your way, because who knows when another will come by, if not taking it will cause you to not stay alive long enough to see the next one come around? You ever think about how he was forced to take care of all his siblings from a ridiculously young age, being the oldest of them all with nobody to help him, essentially having to be a parent? He'd have to become so independent from such a young age and don't you think this would've led to the way he acts in pt2, with how he *gets shot*

I have been getting SO off track oh my god. Well. I guess it's kinda related as I'll be exploring what canon did not but. Yeah. I hope you enjoyed that detour

Anyways, Joseph. I am not exactly sure if I'd give her the same chosen name as I did for the fic I'm basing this off of. Probably will give the same name if I'm honest, it'd be very good for some changes to the Esidisi fight (When he's possessing Suzi) that I have planned. She'd also only find out her identity during the fic (though very close to the start) because that's a quite interesting thing to write. Though ofc there were trans people in the 1920s and 30s, it certainly wasn't as known of a thing, especially with some of the research on trans people was burned and destroyed by the Third Reich. Especially since Joseph would've had like. Nobody to even learn about the LGBT community from as it has been explicitly stated before that Joseph had no friends outside Smokey. Maybe he'd learn about gay people from Speedwagon but other than that that's it. I don't think I've seen a fic in which the trans character doesn't really have the words or ideas to explain what is up with them. I think it'd be really interesting to take this route with Joseph imo, especially with my whole idea of him being compared to Jonathan a bunch (When recalling how he first found out that Joseph could use hamon, Speedwagon compares him to Jonathan. He's also compared to Jonathan in the way he looks. I'm sure there's probably more comparisons regarding his behaviour that we don't see.) and how that'd affect him. Like I've told you before in that one headcanon ask game ages ago, I feel that he'd grow to think that Erina and Speedwagon would rather have Jonathan over him. That leaves Joseph with some very big boots to fill; with that in mind, I also feel that he'd feel like he'd have to "be" a Jonathan to them. Which obviously he can't do, as Jonathan is Jonathan and Joseph is Joseph. You can't become someone you're not. With that taken in context of the fic I think that the whole thing would become much more complex and interesting (and angsty) to write, and also to read. Having Joseph struggle with her gender identity, going from "What is up with me why do I always feel out of place and why does femininity feel so RIGHT", to "Do I just not like the standards placed on me for being a man and that's why the concept of femininity and being a woman feels so freeing and right to me or is there something more serious going on", to "Oh. I AM a woman and that's why I feel like this. I have the horrific feeling that I have let everyone in my life down. Oh God Oh Fuck what am I meant to do how can I live like this" is a breath of fresh air from all the trans character fics I've read where either they come to terms immediately with it or it's already established, one that I am very much willing to provide. Ofc, there's nothing wrong with the previously mentioned forms of trans fics, it's just good to always have some variety. Also. The Horrors. The majority of pt2 takes place in Italy, which was very much fascist at the time. Can you imagine. Caesar and Suzi and Lisa Lisa, as well as Loggins and Messina aren't transphobic, for proper reasons I HAVE thought out despite living in Italy all their lives (ESPECIALLY Suzi and Caesar, seeing that they would've grown up with Mussolini's rule and thus would've been much more likely to be indoctrinated into fascism), as well as the Pillar Men being chill because it simply isn't that big of a deal to them. But can you imagine everybody else. In Italy. The surveillance state. It'd be straight up HORRIFYING for Joseph, she'd struggle so much in actually sorting out her identity safely, even with the others willing to support and help. Uh oh I can't remember where I was trying to go with this uhhhhhhhh. Basically Joseph's gonna struggle. Like. A LOT in this fic, be ready for that when I start posting it...eventually. It might've taken ages to write but now someone (you) has shown great interest in it I think I'll possibly be able to pull another Breadcrust Crusaders and crank it chapters out like my life is on the line. Anything for you, Kirsten. Anything.

It sounds like that should've been the ending to this post, but it's not! It's me making the post, so of course there's more. There's always more. Anyways. Like I've iterated multiple times already the fic will be expanding on characters and fixing flaws in canon and changing things I personally dislike. One of the things I'll be changing bc I don't like it is the Pillar Men designs. Araki coulda done so much more, but didn't, and now it is my responsibility to do that. Haven't gotten everything ironed out yet. But there are 2 things I'm gonna have the designs lean more into.

Make them look more powerful and intimidating

Lean into a rock and stones motif, because COME ON THE OPPORTUNITY WAS THERE

All I've really got down is to make them much taller atm, like 3.5 meters tall? Just gotta have them loom over everyone else really. And for the stone and rocks motif so far I've decided to have their horns look more like jagged shards of rocks, much less neat than in canon. As well as that their redesigns would entail their teeth being much less human, more fanged really, and seeing as teeth are white (well. they're not they're more of a cream or yellow colour PERFECTLY WHITE TEETH ISN'T NATURAL THEY'RE LYING TO YOU PEOPLE THAT READ THIS DON'T EVER STRESS ABOUT YOUR TEETH NOT BEING PERFECTLY WHITE IT IS OK) I think them being iridescent like some gemstones are would be really cool. More specifically the sort of iridescence that opals have, because surprisingly with gemstones there's multiple types of iridescence that all look different. There's definitely still more I wanna add/change but that's all I got rn

I have a gun to Caesar's head. Shall I have him doomed by the narrative like in canon, or do I spare him? Both are very interesting to me, seeing as I'm planning to write some slice-of-life-esque stuff after the plot of pt2 for this fic. Both would deal with his aftermath, just in wildly different ways...hmmm...well. I think I'll decide when I get to it.

Coughs and wheezes is kinda split into 2 in my head actually, with the pt2 stuff and then the post pt2 stuff. The pt2 stuff is MUCH more thought out. Perhaps I will make the fic scheduled (I will continue serving JoJo Fridays again...just like when I was writing Breadcrust Crusaders...suddenly nostalgic...) and then take a lil hiatus to properly work on the post pt2 stuff. Depends on how much I can cook up for it while writing the earlier chapters really

[joekeeryswife]

AHH girl dad! pedro is really just occupying my mind rn….

that one imagine with expecting! reader really has me in a chokehold but just thinking about how sweet pedro would be while your in labor

from the jump, he’d be by your side. the minute you feel your water break in bed and your contractions are feeling a little too real, hes right by your side. his old man brain is definitely a little discombobulated at first bit he’s definitely trying to get you out of your now soaked pjs and into some dry sweats to get you into the car.

thanks to you and all your nesting while pedro’s at work, all the hospital bags were set up and stocked fully for you, him, and the baby, along with the carseat already being installed, you guys were officially set up to be parents!!! pedro knows these contractions are really taking a toll on you so he’d give you all the time in the world to get your bum in the car. as soon as your both seated and settled, the drive over is filled with so much groaning and moaning and squeezing his hand with a freakishly amount of strength, because once again, contractions are indeed, a bitch.

but pedro will let you scream and shout all you need, hes just happy to be there with you. but he cant help but feel some sort of guilt. you both had entered this journey into parenthood but here you were carrying the heaviest load. so he did what he could best. after arriving in the hospital and being sent up to the suite you’d be staying in for the next few days, he’ your number 1 advocate. you want more ice chips? he’s already running down to grab you some more. one nurse isnt following the intended birth plan? best believe he is already asking for a new one. back hurts? hes the first to get behind you and rub it. hes going on walks with you, doing your lamaaze training (which he initially thought was dumb), holding you the exact way you need to be held, whispering sweet nothings, telling you how strong you are and how proud he is of you.

pedro makes it known that he wants to be as involved in the birthing process as possible, however he is needed. when its time to push, hes holding your leg up for you, praising you, helping the doctor count down on the pushes. as terrifying as it sounds, he had never been more glad to make such an effort. getting to watch beautiful, life-changing moment for the both you you. watching your daughter enter the world. i wholeheartedly believe the minute that little girl comes out, hes sobbing. i mean not that you arent but he just can’t express any other emotion what the overwhelming feeling of gratitude he feels. he feels incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful partner. he feels so lucky to have someone who was willing to go through all the troubles and challenges pregnancy presented to you. he feels incredibly lucky to have his heart grown even bigger for the newest addition into yalls life.

the minute your daughter is placed on you chest, it is the first time in a while that everything just feels right, and in place. your heart is more than content. you and your little family.🤍

i have so many thoughts in my mind about dad! pedro pascal, i just have no idea where to put them😭

Labour - p.p

hello angels! i’m honestly fuming because my last pedro fanfic got cut short- idk wtf is up with tumblr BUT… this request was the cutest thing i’ve ever read i don’t even think my writing is going to live up to it. i hope this is okay that it’s a part two to my last fanfic! enjoy angels (p.s dad! imagines are my fave so don’t be shy to put them in my inbox! x) 🤍 ⚠️age gap couple⚠️

taglist (don’t forget to add yourselves🤍) @1-john-4-19 @newtandminhoaretoocute @mavs101 @brilliantopposite187 @mimi-luvzyu (if there’s a line through your name i cannot tag you for some reason x)

"Pedro, get here right now" you shouted as you sat up in bed, looking down at the now soaking bedcovers. he had insisted you go lay down and rest as a few contractions throughout the day had worn you out and now, after an hour of sleep, your water had finally broke. you heard rapid foot steps approaching the bedroom and then the door fly open.

"what?" he looked frantic, and once he saw your anxious look on your face he knew. he walked to your side of the bed and lifted the bed covers off of you and held his hand out so he could help you up which you gently took ahold of. he could see the wet stain on the bedsheet but that was the last thing he was worrying about, he was worrying about you.

he helped you sit up and watched as a contraction surged through your body, making your face scrunch up and a small whimper escape your mouth, you squeezed his hand and tried breathing through it. after the contraction subsided you turned your body so your feet were flat on the floor, getting out of bed had gotten a lot harder and you always had to sit to catch your breath before you could get up.

"i'm sorry" you said as you looked back at the stained bed. he kept his gentle hold on your hand and lent in to give you a small kiss on your forehead. "hey, don't worry. it's only a bedsheet baby, are you okay?" once he saw you give him a small nod and a smile which reassured him enough he let go of your hand and walked to the chest of draws to get you some knew sweatpants then quickly made his way back to you.

"we gotta get you to the hospital love, you've gotta get changed" he helped you stand up which made his heart crush when he saw you breathing through yet another contraction. each one was coming with a whole new level of pain and it broke his heart that he couldn't do anything to take the pain away.

after that contraction finally subsided he helped you get changed into the fresh sweatpants and with that he grabbed your phone and your hand then helped you make your way to front door, he had to grab the baby's bags which were packed by you. you had started packing a month before your due date whilst Pedro was still working/doing interviews and he had never been more grateful that you had done that instead of rushing to do it at near your due date.

the car seat had been installed in the car three weeks ago just incase the baby decided they wanted to show up a little earlier than planned but they didn't, your due date was two days away and it looked like your baby would be coming right on time. once he was sure he had everything he quickly made his way back to you and helped you slip on your shoes and then to the elevator. the ride down to the car park of the apartment complex was filled with groans of pain as the contractions started to get closer together.

Pedro held your hand as the elevator finally stopped on the ground floor and guided you to the car which was luckily not to far away from the elevator, meaning you didn't have to walk far. "babe we have to stop for a second" you said, these contractions were really brutal, so brutal that they actually made you want to cry and that was rare. you had a very high pain tolerance so when Pedro saw you with teary eyes he knew these were really getting to you.

you hunched over slightly as a more painful contraction hit you, this time the pain went to the bottom of your back and lower stomach. Pedro let go of your hand and placed it on your back, rubbing it softly. "you're doing so well honey, so so well" he said as you stood up right again. all you wanted to do was sit down and with the car being in your view, maybe 15 steps away, you knew you needed to get there.

Pedro kept his hand on your back as you both started walking to the car again and you breathed a sigh of relief when you finally made it. he opened the passenger door for you and helped you into the seat. "you comfortable baby?" he asked you and watched you nod your head. you had heard from so many people that contractions hurt but you did not think they would hurt this much. he closed the car door and then made his way to the boot so he could put the bags away.

once he was settled in the drivers side he immediately started the car and started the thirty minute drive to the hospital. the whole ride to the hospital was filled with you groaning in pain with each contraction that came and with that came the soft words of encouragement Pedro spoke to you. this was probably the softest you'd ever heard him and it made your heart swell with love as he tried his best to make you feel better, 'you're doing so well my love, keep breathing that's it' 'you're gonna be such a good mama, you're doing brilliantly honey'

"mother fucker this hurts so much" you said as you squeezed Pedro's hand tightly. he took his eyes off of the road for a split second to look at you. he didn't know why but he felt guilty. you were both becoming parents, both on this pregnancy journey together yet you were the one that had dealt with the morning sickness, crazy hormone changes, cravings, back pain, and now contractions. "i know sweetheart but you're doing so well, we are almost there, five minutes tops" he lifted your hand to his mouth and placed a small kiss there for comfort.

-

you were finally at the hospital in the room where you would give birth to your baby. the nurse had checked and you were only 7cm dilated meaning you had another 3 to go. you were hunched over the bed, trying to get some sort of relief from the pain in your back, laying down did not help at all so you had to stick to this. Pedro was behind you, massaging the bottom of your back as you groaned in pain.

he watched the monitor which was tracking all of your contractions and saw that this one was a lot worse than the other ones. "that's it honey, well done. you're doing amazing" his words of encouragement filled your ears as your hand grabbed onto the bed sheets, keeping them in a tight grasp until the contraction subsided.

"that one was so bad" you said as you stood up straight and turned to face Pedro. he had a sympathetic look on his face. "i know" he opened his arms and you immediately 'fell' into him, needing one of his hugs. they always calmed you down somehow and right now you needed to calm down. "i'm so hungry" you said with a sigh.

you, for some reason, were only allowed to eat ice chips and all you wanted was a burger and actual chips but you couldn't, not until after you'd given birth. "we've run out of ice baby, let me go get you some" and with a kiss on forehead he pulled away from you to go find a nurse. within 5 minutes he was back with more ice chips. "here you are" he said lifting the spoon filled with ice chips up to your lips so you could eat them. "thank you sweetie" you said as you chewed on the ice. he lent in to kiss you on the lips and said a small "you're welcome" before feeding you more ice.

Pedro had been a bit weary of one particular nurse, she was in her mid 30s and was the most judgemental person he'd ever met. she was just not listening to a thing you had suggested and she was just one of those nurses who never listened to their patient, whatever the nurse wanted to do that's what was happening with no debate.

Pedro finally had enough of her when she almost made you cry with her harsh words and judgmental stares which lingered a little to long so she knew you'd notice. you both got judged on a daily basis on social media for your age gap but you had never had any bad experiences in real life, people were always so kind to you and in the thousands of judgemental people where were thousands of supportive people who always said how cute you guys were.

he had waited until she left before he slipped out of the room to speak to someone about getting a different nurse. you were in so much pain and having a nurse who wasn't making you feel any better was not something he'd ever want you to go through. luckily, there was an older nurse who was more than happy to take over. she must of been in her 60s. she followed Pedro back to your room and introduced herself to you. already the atmosphere had changed, she was so sweet to both of you and there was definitely no judgement coming from her.

"y/n, i think because you've been stuck at 7cm for the past two hours you go for a little walk around the ward, it doesn't have to be a long one but it could speed this up a bit and it also means you don't have to be stuck in this room" Mary, the new nurse said to you with a smile. she left you and Pedro alone and with that you both started walking around the maternity ward, hoping that this would finally speed up the process and will allow you both to finally meet your baby.

-

"that's it y/n you're doing absolutely amazing, keep that push" Pedro was holding your left leg and looking at his baby being born. you let go of the push and let your head fall back onto the pillow for a second just so you could catch your breath. "well done sweetheart" you heard Pedro say as you felt a small kiss on your forehead.

"and again y/n, push with this next contraction. well done" you heard Mary say as you pushed as hard as you could through the pain, groaning and the pain became almost unbearable. "that's it sweetheart, keep going" he was still holding your leg but was now by you, comforting you as you pushed. "okay stop pushing sweetie, that was amazing pushing y/n, i can see the head" Mary smiled and your heart swelled at the thought of your baby being here any second.

"okay, another contraction coming, give this one a big push y/n. this will probably be your last one" and as soon as that contraction came, your chin was to your chest as you pushed. you groaned as you felt your baby finally coming out. Pedro was now up again, wanting to see his baby come into the world. as soon as you heard that loud cry coming from your baby, instant tears started falling down both yours and Pedro's cheeks.

"you did it baby, i'm so proud of you" he said, tears rolling down his face as he kissed you passionately. "congratulations you two, it's a girl" Mary quickly put the baby on your chest and you looked down at this beautiful bundle of joy. Pedro thought he could never love anything more than he loved you, but as soon as he set eyes on his daughter his love for her grew, no words could describe how much he loved her.

"hi my angel, it's so nice to finally meet you" you whispered to her as you gently grabbed ahold of her tiny hand. she was beautiful. utterly perfect. Mary took your baby to the other side of the room where she would be weighed and would have all the regular checks any baby had, leaving you and Pedro alone. you moved over in the bed, allowing him to lay down next to you and as soon as he did he pulled you into his embrace.

"thank you" you heard him whisper as a few small kisses were planted on your forehead. he was grateful, grateful that you'd you went through this entire pregnancy and carried your baby, grateful that you'd chosen to do this with him and grateful that you'd grown your baby and now she was here with you both, where she belonged.

you looked up at him and saw that his tears hadn't stopped, they were still flowing freely down his flushed cheeks. you reached your hand up to wipe the tear streaks and smiled. "you don't have to thank me-" "no i do. you have done so much these past 9 months and i'm so grateful for that. i could have never done what you have and and i'm just really really lucky" he said, leaning down to kiss you again.

after a few short minutes of it being just the two of you, Mary brought over a wrapped up bundle of joy who was looking around the room with her dough eyes. "8 ibs and 6 Oz. she's really healthy. i'm going to leave you two alone for a while to give you time to adjust but just ring the buzzer if you need anything. again congratulations, she's absolutely beautiful" after she passed you your baby, you both said thank you and watched as she left the room.

"she's got so much hair" you whispered as you looked down at her, running your hand carefully over the top of her head. she was the most precious thing you'd ever seen. Pedro watched the two of you together, he had never in his left felt like this. he just felt pure love and adoration for the two of you. "she looks just like you baby, she's so beautiful" he kissed your forehead and let his hand stroke her cheek. this was love and he was so excited for the journey ahead.

[tyxoxo]

Ylang Ylang

| summary: while being close to you and your family’s extinction, a promise needs to be broken to save the lives of your people

| pairing: fairyhunter!jeno x fairy!reader au w/fairy!xiaojun x fairy!reader (if you squint)

| genre: suspense, angst, smut, fantasy, multiple nct/wayv + aespa character inserts, jeno and hendery are brothers

| words: 11.6k

| warnings: murder, blood, torture, knife play, noncon smut + suggestive scenes, blackmail, exhibitionism, caging/imprisonment, degrading, unprotected sex

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering content, everything is tagged accordingly)

a/n: @jenomov and i came up with this concept out of nowhere also, so massive thanks to them for the inspiration, ideas, summary, and endless brainstorming! they practically helped write this <3 also jeno’s look in the header is essentially how i envisioned him to look for this story but imagine him however you want 

playlist: 

livv? - ylang ylang

weatherby - fleeting frozen heart 

datfootdive - stars

alicks - 7 laps later

tame impala - one more hour

“C’mon Xiaojun, spit it out already!!” 

You teased at your loving best friend, shoving him playfully with a single finger as you watched him struggle to speak lucid sentences.

The two of you were in your favorite and most “private” hang out spot—in the trees on the outskirts of your shared village. Far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the community, but close enough for comfort. Though you tried your best not to drift into the terminology of “safety”, “danger”, or “warnings.” 

It was a sure way to initiate ill omens.

Both of your parents were aware of your shared infinity for exploring; venturing past the municipality limits. But as long as the two of you shrunk to “the size of a quail” outside of the village, they allowed you to bask in the wonders of blaring curiosity, to your heart’s content. Your species could never truly bring your guard down…

“Sorry…I just can’t form my words today.” He scratched the back of his head as he peered down at his lap, rustling the Crane's-bill flower crown perched atop his mauve hair in the process. 

“Since when do you ever really form your words?” 

This time you gave a subtle laugh to pair with your smile, hoping to ease his obvious discombobulation. 

“You’re right. I don’t.” 

His eyes met yours, his wings even twitching, which always signified when your kind was flustered.

He continued again, pulling at his own thumb as he drifted his eyes up to the newly blossomed tree leaves; an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact.

You could try to deny it for as long as you lived, but there was something within you that adored him more than he probably ever knew.

It was his tenderness, his soothing voice, his patience, whether it was those nights you stormed out of your house in search of him, as a form of solace from the constant nightmares of your genocide, or the days that you wanted to rant about your parent’s overprotectiveness (though they’ve eased up in recent years).

Anything you needed, he was there. And you always tried your best to do the same, despite having the feeling that he bottled up some of his troubles to keep from feeling like a burden himself.

“Well…I w-wanted to tell you, that I really appreciate you.” 

He gave up on his own finger trap, to tug at the bottom of his white flounce shirt, finally meeting your eyes again with another twitch of his translucent wings.  

“I appreciate you too Xiaojun, always.” 

You leaned forward, so light that you barely caused the branch underneath you to stir. He froze upon witnessing your close contact, only his brown irises lowering to watch as you took both of his hands into your own.

“Is everything okay?” 

You didn’t mean for your voice to come out in a whisper, but his stuttering had become more frequent, and this only made your thoughts whirl just as loudly as his.

If only you knew that he was on his way to confess his true feelings to you, if only he could get his mouth to work as fast as his brain, maybe then he could finally pull the weight off his shoulders.

But you made all of this difficult without even trying. His love for everything that was you, was infinite. 

Even your constant teasing.

And the glimmer in your eyes was no match for his composure, let alone the way you held his hands. 

You scanned his face in search of an answer, that definitely took too long for him to spill.

“Yeah don’t worry, everything's fine.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, wondering where this could possibly be going, knowing he was aware of your ever-so-apparent “what’s the deal” persona. 

He cleared his throat, and geared himself up for the revelation of a lifetime,

“I’ve been m-meaning to tell you that I really like you…that I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to have this moment with you.”

You felt your wings twitch, more noticeable than his own. And the warmth that flooded your entire body could’ve lit the entire forest in a swarming blaze. 

“W-would it be crazy if I asked you to be mine—”

His lips seemed to come at a rest in slow motion, eyelashes fluttering in stark contrast as he heard your breath hitch in your throat.

Not even the sun’s rays that flashed through the white pine tree could’ve taken you out of your shock. 

You used what seconds you had left, to replay his confession in your head,

“…I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to have this moment with you”

Xiaojun, your best friend since childhood, had always dreamed of this?

But the thoughts of responding were ripped away, as blood-curdling screams roared from the direction of your home. They weren’t light hearted nor playful by any means, and with the ability to hear great distances, the agony that bestowed upon your ears caused you both to wince in fear. 

Xiaojun turned his head to look through the leaves, skin turning pale upon hearing further destruction. 

Most of the branches obscured your vision, but it didn’t take much longer for the despair to continue. 

“They found us!” 

That voice, sounded like Karina.

And her frenzied words gave the answer—after two years of hiding, the hunters were back. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the ability to breathe becoming a distant memory.  

You squeezed Xiaojun’s hand as you crawled through the thick pine, your best friend eventually grabbing your waist to stop you from venturing out too far.

“Stay back!” His hushed tone was never this turbulent, bringing all the more truth to the chaos brewing just a mile away. 

“We have to go help!”

“It’s too dangerous, I can’t risk you getting hurt!” 

Your adrenaline was too much for Xiaojun, as you managed to fight through his tight embrace or rather his hold on your longing to see your family and friends for what could be the last time. 

“Let me go! We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

You attempted to gear your wings for flight as you broke through his hold, hands raking through the leaves to get a clear view through the sea of green.

As you hovered past the pine tree, a familiar being appeared to be flying this way, the telltale sign being the blush colored wings that matched the embroidered dress swaying through the win at high speeds.

It was Giselle. And upon getting a closer distance, you saw the blood spatter that painted her arms in fresh crimson. 

She was her natural size, like what your kind all chose to be while in the comfort of your home, and the only guess as to why she didn’t choose to shrink was the amount of energy it took to do so. She seemed to grip at her side as the blood continued to stain her silk dress, not once looking up at which direction to fly. Her Dahlia flower crown was nowhere to be found, something that she cherished more than anything in the world.

You had to help her, get her to safety within the trees, whatever you could to secure a better fate. But the constant screams kept you too terrified to react, and being out in the open like this was indeed risky. 

Before you could muster the strength to call her name, Xiaojun was behind you, the vibration of his wings filling your senses. He leaped at you once again, this time pulling you back towards the trees with labored breaths.

He couldn’t just do this to you…prevent you from saving a life, from saving not only your friend, but his friend too.

You managed a measly call of her name, knowing her advanced hearing would be enough. And successfully, she glanced up for the first time since her escape, to watch as you motioned for her to join together in the same tree.

Her face, lit up with hope, was the last sanguine expression to ever grace her face, as the all too familiar sound of a crossbow arrow being loosed from its quarrel sped towards her injured frame.

Your scream, one just as gut-wrenching as those that continued from your home, was muffled against Xiaojun’s palm as he pulled you back within the tree. You were forced away from any further intervention, forced away from burying your guilt.  

Giselle flung forward from the sheer impact of the arrow as it shot through her heart, her umber strands flying through the air in the same intensity; entire body falling face forward onto the red speckled bermuda grass.

You couldn’t look away, not while you witnessed her final moments—eyes drifting up to meet yours within her last breath, wings falling lifeless against her spine, and a faint smile from knowing you would be the last person she would ever see, instead of the hunters that were walking towards her. 

Your entire body shook against Xiaojun, trembling in fear that her killers would surely discover the two of you here.

“Fuck! Hendery I had her!” 

An unfamiliar voice, but one you would never forget, roared through the clearing that led to your dead friend. 

You never felt so much anger from a person before, someone that you could only imagine was seething at the teeth.

Xiaojun finally took his hands away from your mouth, allowing you to inhale as much as you could before they got too close. But he still kept his arms wrapped around you, fighting through his own sobs that hit against the back of your neck.

“No Jeno! I’m not letting you fuck this up anymore! Remember what Johnny said?”

Yet another unfamiliar voice, but you were able to put the faces with the names right as the two humans approached just meters away, barely appearing disheveled despite the chaos they just unleashed. Thankfully their lack of enhanced senses worked in your favor, as you and Xiaojun remained undetected during their inspection of the area.

The one holding the crossbow was Hendery. And the one to speak first with the serrated knife was Jeno. 

These had to have been the hunters your family warned about. For the two years since relocating to this new area, all of the last surviving elders made it their mission to describe these two, for if the day came that they scoured the land again, you would instantly know it was them. 

They were just as menacing as your parents described, especially the blonde, Jeno. 

Whether or not it was on purpose to instill fear within all of your kind, you were always taught to never underestimate him or his brother. 

The two of them could’ve passed as supernatural beings themselves—flawless skin, chiseled features, intimidating height, and the perfect build…you could’ve spent your time describing their otherworldly looks, but their tyranny overshadowed everything else in your mind.

Your breathing finally began to steady as you stared them down like hawks within the evergreen tree, watching with glossy eyes as they stood over Giselle.

Maybe it was the tactical black clothes they wore, or the shared onyx in their eyes. Either observation caused a shiver to run down your spine; they screamed carnage.

You and Xiaojun both jumped as Jeno sheathed the knife in his left hand into his thigh holster, the ear-grating sound bringing you back down to the harsh reality of your near-death experience.

“The others should be on their way any minute. Let’s go.” 

Hendery spoke again and pointed downward with his crossbow at Giselle’s lifeless body, signaling for Jeno to carry her now.

The blonde obeyed, but not without a  furrowed brow as he bent down to gather the fresh corpse.

You were sure his disgruntled expression was due to his brunette counterpart taking away his kill, and a part of you knew that his method of disposal would have been way more barbaric than Hendery’s. 

You felt sick to your stomach to admit that maybe Giselle didn’t suffer too much of an agonizing death, as an arrow to the heart was the quickest way to an end.

Jeno loves the thrill of a chase. Once he has his sights on you, his frenzy doesn’t stop… 

The warning that your own mother gave you stuck ever since she first told you. And it all made sense now: Giselle was part of the hunt.

The last you would ever see of her, was a delicate, lifeless body slumped over Jeno’s shoulders as the two brothers walked back the way they came. 

The two of you could’ve stayed hidden in the trees forever, passing the time by staring at the way the grass moved in the wind. Especially now that you had to face the aftermath of being found after such little time.

Xiaojun’s arms slowly unwrapped around your body, falling onto the branch in defeat.

You couldn’t help but fight back more tears as you looked back at him, eventually failing as you saw how red his own eyes were.

“What did they mean by “be here any minute?” 

You asked in a trembling tone, voice slightly breaking from the sobs that overtook your chords.

“I fear they’ll stay close by for a while, but maybe it’s a chance we’ll have to take to see what’s going on.”

His cool breath touched your lips as he spoke, and you could only give a nod. No amount of talking could take away the pain you felt. 

The two of you cautiously exited the trees, remaining in your shrunken size to stay undetected. 

You gave one last look at the grass below you, soaking in Giselle’s blood that splattered onto the now-soiled greenery. 

Xiaojun led the way, choosing to duck behind the trees along the clearing, as you did the same.

The area seemed too quiet now…

The wisp of arrows no longer filled the air, and the crashing of what sounded like housing structures were no longer drowned out by the screams of your family and friends.

Considering the two of you purposefully ventured out past the village limits, it seemed like hours before you reached the entrance to your once-forever home.

The destruction seemed picture-perfect to what your elders had experienced in the past.

Xiaojun reached behind to interlock your fingers with his as you both approached the gates. You could only let your wings carry you now, barely reacting to his physicality…the numbness had become too overbearing. 

No sign of life could be caught within your sights, only smoke and dwindling flames littered the landscape.  

Houses were barely standing, with sunken ceilings and crumbling timber.

Could everyone truly be dead? Even your parents?

You tried your best to peek over Xiaojun’s shoulder, trying as best as you both could to find your respective homes. And considering how small the two of you were now, the billows proved to be difficult terrain. You both covered your faces in defense of the embers, fending off the irritation to your eyes.

Xiaojun was the first to look towards what was left of your home, eventually dragging you along despite your best efforts to protect your eyes.

Upon stopping and hovering in front of your disheveled porch, it was obvious your parents were gone; though you didn’t want to think about the manner in which they were gone. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to rummage through the chunks of burnt siding, as every piece was scorching hot to the touch.

“Why even fucking bother?” 

Your anger began to overshadow your grief, and despite the fumes emanating off the burnt mahogany, you kicked at what remained of the entryway.  

Images of your parents flashed through your brain; undoubtedly giving it their all to fight back, not even caring that they would ultimately fail against them. 

They never thought about the aftermath of their bravery…going out in glory seemed like the best way to go.

Xiaojun could only choke back tears as he hovered beside you, knowing that no amount of condolences would render you healed. He wasn’t a ghost to this kind of pain either.

You were there for him when his parents found their end at the hands of the hunters years prior.

And he knew he had to do the same for you. 

“I’m sorry…” Xiaojun sniffled with a squeeze of your hand. You met his bloodshot eyes, blinking away yet another tear. 

Your focus soon shifted past your best friend, as your eyes drifted over to a familiar piece of pink flower nestled under a heap of singed plywood. 

Xiaojun noticed, and followed closely behind as you flew over to your discovery. 

Somehow saved from the flames, was Giselle’s flower crown. 

You steadied the speed at which your wings fluttered to keep the smoke at bay, and in one fell swoop of your hand, you held onto the only remnant of your dear friend. 

Maybe this is why your kind wore these, not only as a form of self expression, but for moments like this. So anyone gone, would never be forgotten.   

“We should go…” 

You were sure it pained him as much as it did you to not give a valid response to his shared grief, but staying here out in the open was suicide. You clutched onto the Dahlia flower crown as the two of you flew south, with no real destination in mind.  

Maybe a change of scenery or something less-desolate would clear your head. 

—

Jeno tried his hardest not to tear a muscle in his jaw as he clenched down with every exhale. 

He was left fuming ever since the end of their hunt. 

He knew why Hendery intervened, and the thought of someone trying to control his methods disgusted him.

It didn’t even matter if that certain someone was his own brother.

No one got in the way of his kill.

Although he wanted to body slam Hendery into the ground, all thoughts of getting his vengeance were cut short as Yuta and Sungchan were arriving to help load the bodies. The brothers were waiting just outside the village in a clearing, with high hopes that more fairies would cross paths with them in the process. 

Jeno passed the time by tossing his knife up and down in the air, purposefully avoiding conversation with his brother to bring more tension into the air. It worked somehow, with Hendery only kicking a few pebbles along the dirt instead of discussing how uneventful their slaughter was. 

Yuta and Sungchan eventually drove up in the shared sport utility vehicle courtesy of Johnny, that had definitely seen better days: waves of mud caked along the fender from transporting bodies to buyers all over the county, along with a few specks of dried blood on the front tire rims from a raccoon Hendery hit the other day.

The fellow hunters skidded along the rough terrain with the help of four wheel drive, successfully parking in front of the pile where only four fairies lay stacked on top of each other.

The sun was beginning to set along the distant horizon, seeming faster as the entire land lay nestled on a hill. That still didn’t stop the golden hour from illuminating the-now blackened blood painted along their lifeless bodies, even decorating a few of their ruined flower crowns like black ink.

Yuta was the first to exit the driver's seat, putting out his cigarette in the portable ashtray just beneath the car stereo. Sungchan followed suit, but not without towering over his comrade as they came to a stop to view the brother’s labor. 

“I feel like there should be way more than this…” 

Yuta’s crimson locks swayed in the breeze as he broke the silence, eyes darting from the bodies, then to the blonde, then to the brunette. 

He was sure such a statement would tick Jeno off, who’s excess pride always managed to bring home the most kills. 

“There’s definitely more out there. I saw a handful scatter south.” Hendery tilted his head in the direction as he kicked the final pebble over towards the pile of bodies.  

“Yeah well if you didn’t get in the way half the time, I would’ve gotten them.” 

Jeno spat as he sheathed the bowie knife back into his thigh holster. His dissatisfied expression only grew as Hendery scoffed in response. 

“What, you have nothing to say?” Jeno finally looked over to him, who’s tongue-in-cheek appearance was almost the final straw to his mania. 

“Can we just load these up already?” 

Sungchan, the timid pacifist, was the only one to stick to the task at hand, bending down to gather one of the bloodied corpses.

Yuta walked over to open the trunk as he texted Johnny with an update.

They each gathered one with ease, and despite being in their full size at death, all four managed to fit with a few pronounced shoves.

“Seems you went easy on them this time Jen…” Yuta took one final glance at the trunk, making sure Jeno heard his side comment before closing it. Based on the way Jeno slammed the rear passenger door, he succeeded. 

Yuta couldn’t help but light yet another cigarette as he put the car in reverse, even offering one to Jeno and Hendery who both declined with a shake of their head. 

It would take at least forty minutes before they reached headquarters, and anything to diffuse the obvious tension was worth a try.

— 

You subconsciously thanked whatever God that your kind didn’t need food and water as often as the humans who co-inhabited this earth.

If you did, the hunger and dehydration would’ve befallen you a long time ago. 

Neither you nor Xiaojun had eaten anything since the attack. 

It was now dark, and based on the abundance of nocturnal animals scouring about, it had to be late.

And unfortunately, the smell of petrichor began to fill your noses. 

Rain was definitely not your best friend while in this size or without proper shelter.

“Let’s stop here before it starts pouring.” Xiaojun guided you over to yet another tree, choosing to fly high up along the weeping willow for extra protection. 

He had become so steadfast in a small amount of time, and you were sure it was because of his familiarity with this type of tragedy. 

At least he was holding himself together better than you were. 

Each time you glanced down at Giselle’s crown, you couldn’t help but tear up. And the thought of potentially finding more along your journey scared you.  

Just as you nestled yourselves within the leaves, the rain began to pour and soon came the thunder.

Regardless of mother nature’s wrath, the comforting sound of raindrops hitting every leaf soothed away your stressors, as it did for Xiaojun. And not soon after, you found yourself laying back into his body for added warmth. 

He welcomed your embrace, and let his head rest on top of yours as the two of you tried to drift off to sleep.

Giselle’s crown never let you, perched just above as some sort of guardian that you hoped would watch over you for a lifetime.

“I love you.” 

Xiaojun’s whisper stirred you from your near distant slumber, and as you rose your head up, you found your lips just millimeters away from his own. 

“I love you too…”

—

2 years ago

—

“Sorry to cut the training short but I need everyone in my office now.” 

Johnny’s stone cold appearance into the gymnasium-sized training room caused everyone to freeze in place. Even YangYang, the newest recruit, had a hint of worry in his eye from what his boss could possibly want at this time of day.

The new offensive tactic he was learning from Hendery felt too liberating to be interrupted.

Nonetheless, all five hunters dropped their practice weapons, and began following through the halls of their headquarters. Jeno walked close behind, exuding annoyance with every step, followed by Hendery, Yuta, Sungchan, and YangYang, who all seemed less vexed. 

“Fresh meat” as Yuta liked to call the newest recruit, found the Brutalist architecture of the entire headquarters difficult to get used to. Nothing felt welcoming, but what could he expect from a group of ruthless hunters who’s only form of entertainment were killing or training? 

YangYang hoped that maybe he was jumping to conclusions, and that maybe they actually engaged in more leisure activities.

Eventually they made it to Johnny’s office. YangYang mentally recalled the first time he ever saw it, back when he was interviewed.  

Not much self-expression, or color for that matter; only strange and usual murals of taxidermied animals, and a few plaques of outstanding achievements in “Guerilla Warfare.”

The newest hunter felt awkward in the sea of black, not knowing if he seemed “lazy” for wanting to sit in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the carbon grey desk. Though, his pondering was short lived as Hendery and Yuta swiftly shoved between him to claim the only two seats.

Everyone except Jeno stayed in direct view of their boss, instead opting to lean against the wall with a few kicks to the fine carpet below. YangYang could already tell from his fifth day here that his blonde-haired comrade was the hothead of the group, intimidatingly so. 

“I called this meeting to discuss our sales…they’re unacceptable.” 

If only YangYang had known that this wasn’t the usual topic of a meeting, nor was it a common issue, though he did notice that everyone had their undivided attention, especially considering Johnny’s succinct tone. 

Yet there was a hint of relief in the hunter’s exhale, as there was no way he attributed to whatever poor sales his boss was referring to, when he’s only been here for less than a week.  

“I wanted to wait and see if maybe there was a mistake in my counts before pulling you all out of training, but it’s quite obvious that we’re down 20%.” 

Based on the way Sungchan and Hendery dropped their heads, the news was transparently bad. And despite the amount of bodies in the room, the atmosphere grew cold in the span of a heartbeat. 

“I don’t understand, we’ve killed thousands. How is that bringing us down?” 

Yuta was the first to speak after what seemed like minutes; eventually sparing the room of awkward silence. He leaned forward in his seat with intrigue, ultimately showing concern that was shared across everyone’s faces. 

“Precisely. It’s not the numbers, it’s the method.”

Johnny leaned far back in his chair with a cross of his hands over his abdomen—typical posture for someone trying to keep their composure.  

Was there confusion? Definitely. So much so that Hendery finally raised his head with a dumbfounded expression which might’ve garnered a slap from his displeased boss, though the thickness of his chestnut bangs spared him of the reprimand. 

“With each receipt that I get, there’s been a pattern...some sort of complaint.” 

Johnny paused to grab the binder in the corner of his desk that housed all of the “receipts”, eventually flipping it open to show the large stack that could barely stay organized due to the lightweight paper.

“Specimen AG — parts not salvageable due to maiming of thoracic cage and surrounding viscera…

Specimen BH — parts not salvageable due to debasement of intestines, including prolapse…”

The list seemed to go on and on—fifty pages worth to be exact, and it wasn’t until Johnny read the sixth one that the group of hunters finally caught on to the stress brewing within his chords.

“There’s a reason we don’t use bombs or any explosives, but based on the condition of these bodies, doesn’t fucking matter if we do!”

Johnny slammed the binder shut; seeming to resort back to his previous posture with equanimity. 

His voice barely above a shout, surely to get louder if no one spoke up soon.  

“But there’s one thing I won’t do, and that’s babysit. I have way too many important things to take care of while you guys are out there. So you all need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I might have a clue…” 

YangYang’s peripherals shifted to Hendery, who was the second to speak with a brief raise of his fore and middle finger. 

“I don’t think it helps that there’s someone in this room that likes to go overboard with their methods.”

YangYang was the only one to scan the room for the person in question, and eventually his suspicion bloomed upon setting his sights on Jeno.

He would never forget his first day hunting, nor would he forget the lingering smirk that painted Jeno’s face with every kill. 

Each fairy met their end in the most gruesome way possible, and somehow even his own brother had less sadistic methods to his madness. 

Limbs torn, torso’s gutted, throats ripped…

That was one way for Jeno to distinguish himself from the more quick and painless deaths of his counterparts. 

Easily…

“You piece of shit…” 

Jeno’s bark was just as hefty at his bite, and snapped YangYang out of his recollection. 

Thankfully his laconic response was towards Hendery. 

“I should’ve known.” 

Johnny produced a heavy sigh as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. 

“Jeno you’re one of the best hunters i’ve ever known, you and your brother both. But you can’t do this. I’ve had countless buyers not only documenting but telling me that the parts are too mutilated…”

Johnny’s tone surprisingly stayed neutral, but the disappointment in his face didn’t falter.  

“Why criticize me for doing what we are trained to do?” 

Though Jeno remained still against the wall, it was evident his fists were clenched inside the pockets of his combat pants to resist the urge to punish his brother for “snitching.”

“They can’t possibly buy that junk Jeno!”

“Okay, next time I’ll just sit out and let everyone do the work then.”

Jeno’s solution to the problem was only a smart-ass response, one that tensed the room more than it already was. 

“Everyone seems to understand but you…”

—

Present

—

[0900]

Two hours of laying in bed with his eyes open when he could’ve been doing something more productive ate away at Jeno’s soul. 

Perhaps the best way to take his mind off the disappointment from yesterday’s hunt would be to train, even better if he could do it alone.

Considering it was still early, he was sure that could be arranged.

He couldn’t stand to hear the soft “tick” of the analog clock any longer, eventually rising up and navigating across the dimly lit bedroom; being especially mindful of YangYang’s crutches that lay in between their separate beds.  

Just a few weeks ago he sprained his ankle while training with Yuta, and never heard the end of it from the red-haired bully. The teasing was warranted, as his clumsiness made him miss out on the second hunt of his career. 

Before YangYang was recruited, Jeno was lucky enough to have a room by himself, but for the past two years he’s had to share. And despite his constant gripes with Johnny over that decision, there had been no changes in his room and board. 

Thankfully, YangYang wasn’t as much of a headache as he thought he would be. 

Just as Jeno reached for the doorknob, he was interrupted from YangYang’s awakening. 

“How was yesterday?” 

His groggy morning voice was a far-cry from his more upbeat tone that tended to blossom throughout the day. 

“You didn’t miss much.”

Jeno refrained from turning his head to address YangYang’s curiosity, and as a result, missed the frown that littered his face.

“Guess that makes me feel a bit better about being a klutz then.”

YangYang had grown accustomed to Jeno’s uninterested personality and expected nothing in return: no reassurance nor words of encouragement, but it still left him feeling cold as Jeno exited the bedroom with a harsh slam of the door. 

—

After freshening up in the bathroom, Jeno eventually walked through the maze of minimally designed hallways, with the constant reminder of how the entire building matched his current mood—arid, dull, and grey.

The gymnasium was just off in the distance and past Johnny’s office, which he suspected to be empty.

But to Jeno’s surprise, it was occupied by not only his boss, but an unfamiliar person. 

Their voices still seemed hushed to a low volume as Jeno decided to pause just past the partially open door. The brief glance Jeno gave in between wielded a weak observation of the boy, but just enough to know that there was no way he could survive here—he looked barely old enough to even drive. 

“Even though you still have yet to gain experience in the realm of hunting, I think you’ll be a great new addition to the team Jisung. We have plenty of approachable people here who would be more than happy to assist you on your learning curve.”

“Such a relief to hear that.”

The voice matched the ingenuous appearance of the boy, and somehow Jeno already had an irked nerve creep under his skin from the thought of gaining a new inexperienced “co-worker.”

“Due to tight restrictions on sales and making sure everyone gets equal pay, you’ll probably be the last hire, but I'll make sure we get you trained to expectations in no time.”

Last hire? 

Jeno immediately fell into the depths of suspicion. 

There was only one possible meaning in Jeno’s eyes: and the answer was replacement. 

The mere thought of deception plagued the mind of the seasoned hunter, and to such a degree that he could’ve easily torn down the door and stormed in to give both of them hell. 

If anyone saw Jeno now, they would see a raged monster—veins pulsed along his arms and down to his fists where he aimed to punch the wall nearest to him. The impact from his knuckle to the grey wall proved to be successful, and no amount of sting could’ve prevented him from giving another punch. 

Of course they heard it. And he didn’t want to stick around to see their faces when they came out to check. The self- control Jeno possessed, would ultimately spare the two of his wrath. 

The thought of training no longer sounded appealing; only real damage…real blood, could diffuse his anger. 

And no one could stop him from killing the way he wanted to. 

Not even his own brother, that just so happened to unveil himself from his shared room with Yuta. 

Hendery was just beginning to start his day, having already decided to sharpen his crossbow arrows, as training with them weakened the aluminum overtime.

He heard the loud “thud” just as he opened his bedroom door, and to his surprise, Jeno was storming off in the direction of the courtyard.

Something had to have bothered him, especially to the point that a large dent was made into the plastered wall on the other side of Johnny’s office.

Did he have an impromptu meeting? 

As Hendery began to jog towards his impetuous brother, he heard the creak of the office door, but couldn’t bother to look back at who appeared from inside.  

“Jeno! What’s going on?” 

His call yielded no response, and it seemed like miles before he got in arms reach of him.   

Just like Hendery predicted, Jeno made it to the frosted glass doors of the courtyard, violently pushing them open to the point of almost cracking the inorganic material. 

Hendery managed to lunge forward, ignoring the voices of Sungchan and Yuta in the distance as he cupped the back of Jeno’s shoulder.

“What the fuck’s going on?! Stop!” 

Without conscious thought, Hendery’s reflexes erupted from the center of his body, branching out towards his limbs to forge protection from the sudden backhand Jeno tried to give with his left hand. Hendery adjusted his footing to keep from falling backwards, but it seemed that he had to be one step ahead to handle Jeno’s blind rage. 

Sungchan and Yuta halted side-by-side, just in time to see Jeno practically attacking his own brother, with the first strike barely missing, though another seemed to be winding up from his right hand.  

“What could you possibly do, huh? I’m getting fucking replaced!” 

Sungchan was the first to look at Yuta with confusion as they heard Jeno’s explosive response. Even from their position at the doors, they could see every contour of Jeno’s muscles contract along his arms, with veins bulging against both sides of his temple as he seemed to hold back a snarl. 

Regardless, the two hunters felt relieved to know they weren’t the ones trying to console an absolute maniac. 

They knew better. 

“What the hell?” 

Within minutes of the brawl, a flurry of bodies appeared at the door. Johnny rushed down the steps after uttering his shock, followed by Jisung—and in the process of his first appearance, earned a scoff from Yuta as he brushed past. YangYang was the last to reach the ensemble, teeming with frustration at his inability to get accustomed to his crutches. 

If any outsider saw the scene before them, they would question if there was any proper authority amongst a group of murderous men. 

“Jeno! You have to stop!” 

No amount of pleas from Johnny could tear the two brothers apart. And whether or not it was to make a good first impression, Jisung lunged into action to separate them both as best as he could.

With the assistance of Johnny, who was undoubtedly stronger than the three combined, the heavy strikes to each other's bodies eventually ceased…followed by bruised cheeks, puffed lips, and labored breaths that flooded the hostile climate. 

Clearly, Jisung made the mistake of keeping his hands glued to Jeno’s shoulders as he rose from the dark granite rocks, shoving away the unwarranted contact. 

“After all these years of me outperforming everyone you’ve ever known, you’re going to throw me away?” 

He spat in Johnny’s face, even bucking towards him without shame before turning his attention back to Jisung. It was clear that Jeno wasn’t done, and Hendery’s intuition seemed to outshine everyone as he noticed his brother gearing up for another strike. Maybe it was the fact they were both bound by blood, as the two were always one step ahead of each other’s intentions. 

Despite the pain burning at his body, Hendery put himself in between Jeno and Jisung, yet again taking another punch, this time for someone he hadn’t even propely met. 

He took the brute force of Jeno’s knuckles, with plenty of newtons to make him stumble back. 

Jisung barely had time to flinch, but the aftershock left him feeling indebted towards Hendery. 

“I don’t want to lose any of you! If you came to me in private, I would’ve explained, but instead you go absolutely insane thinking he was your replacement?!”

For the first time, Jeno let his fists unclench with a harsh grimace. If it was to hide his disgrace or combat the raging headache, no one would ever know. 

Johnny stepped closer to Jeno, seeking out a valid response, but he was met with an ungracious exit. 

Hendery held onto his aching cheek as he watched Jeno walk away, presumably to never come back. 

His final act of longing to reach for his brother was interrupted as Johnny spoke,

“Just let him go…”

The entire courtyard turned to silence as Jeno pushed past his two comrades at the door, eventually disappearing in the adjacent hallway. 

Jisung was surprised to find that even after all of the chaos, Johnny remained calm. How? 

—

“Xiaojun…Xiaojun wake up! Do you hear that?” 

Off into the distance and below the same tree you both had been sleeping in for the past night, you heard the sound of flapping wings. 

Through the breeze, you couldn’t discern if they were from your kind or an animal, but you desperately needed a second set of ears to assist with your discovery.

After rubbing your companion’s arm, he finally awoke, albeit at a snail’s pace. The flapping stopped just as he stretched his upper body, and it didn’t take a genius to realize your disappointment.

But there again, you heard the high frequency sound of those same wings down below. 

This time Xiaojun heard it, and even his eyes grew an astonishing amount,

“I hear multiple sets of wings…do you?” 

Maybe his advanced hearing fared better than yours considering your lack of proper rest, but after concentrating enough with closed eyes, you heard it too.

“We should go check.”

You wondered if Xiaojun felt like risking his life yet again, but if this was anything like you hoped, then there was a better chance of survival with more than just two to a team.

He agreed with a subtle nod, and stayed close behind as you both crept towards the edge of the weeping willow. 

You paused before going any further, deciding to reach back and grab Giselle’s crown as it was practically your security blanket. 

Once you reached a safe distance, you scanned the twilight sky for any signs of aerial life. But that observation was soon forgotten as four pairs of living bodies were flying across the fescue grass. 

Myrtle, Canna, Red Flax, and Black Pansy rested atop each of their heads and you immediately recognized them.

Karina, Jaemin, Renjun, and Winter. 

You clutched Giselle’s crown close to your chest as you dove towards them, almost forgetting that Xiaojun was right behind you. 

Their hearing proved to be just as fruitful, as they each turned in the direction of your swift flight. 

Their faces, lighting up just as bright as the peeking sun over the horizon, gave you all of the strength in the world. They seemed to be alive and most importantly well considering the disaster that befell the community just two days ago. 

No words were spoken, just tears of relief as an assembly line of embraces filled the atmosphere.

Due to your excitement, you didn’t notice that they too had flower crowns, with Karina being the one to carry all three. 

Chenle, Ten, and NingNing. 

You felt a tight squeeze on your heart as you eyed the only evidence of their unforgettable beauty, but to see remnants of their existence was more than enough closure. 

Winter was the first to speak as you hugged her last, 

“I can’t believe you both are here! I’ve been crying ever since we made it out.”

She kept one hand on your shoulder as she used the other to rid the tear trailing past her chin. 

The abundance of emotions even managed to make Jaemin tear up, as he was someone who never cried. 

Karina seemed to keep her eyes trained on Giselle’s crown nestled in your hand, and as her lip began to quiver, you immediately rushed over to hug her again.

The two were inseparable—sisters who never missed the opportunity to experience life’s wonders together. 

You knew no amount of words would take away the pain, but you hoped that your affection would forge an era of healing. 

Based on her steady heartbeat and the collective encircle everyone decided to share, you knew it would happen eventually. 

“Have any of you seen my parents?” 

You waited until the group hug dispersed before asking, as you needed a solid look at each of their faces for any signs of an answer.  

The silence was deafening, but unfortunately more than enough to answer your question.

“I can barely recall what happened. Everything seemed like a blur…” 

Renjun’s statement garnered a collective nod. Nonetheless, you simply appreciated their existence as it didn’t seem like there was much left. 

—

Jeno had finally found a reason to keep going.

There, in a clearing upon chance, was the source of his thirst.  

Had the fight with his brother not happened, he would’ve missed the six fairies huddled in a circle amongst the teff grass. 

They seemed delighted in their reunion, albeit shaken up from recent events. 

Despite Jeno’s lack of supernatural abilities, he could still sense the wariness looming over their pitiful bodies…he could still feel the magnetic pull that drove him to be their absolute nightmare.  

If he was a dog, he would be salivating, shamelessly so. 

Ever since storming away from the courtyard, Jeno rushed back inside towards the training room to grab all of his signature weapons, along with any other utilities that would be of good use for his inevitable soul-searching. 

Considering Sungchan was quite intimidated by him, he doubted the tall lanky hunter would mind if he took some of his homemade smoke bombs.

Might as well make use of what’s here…

Jeno had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to go back home, especially now that he saw you. 

An absolute spectacle, perfect to use as an example of why your race was so  weak…so obsolete. 

Maybe it was the way you cautiously scanned the clearing ever so often, or the way you tugged at your opposite forearm to calm your nerves. 

Nothing stood out more than your doe eyes—even more gratifying if he was the reason they widened in fear. 

He clearly missed the opportunity to see that fiery emotion the first time he scoured your home. 

Now he couldn’t let the chance slip away. 

As he readied the smoke bomb in his left hand, his own eyes shifted into something sinister, like daggers ready to gouge at your delicate figure.  

A toss was all it took to unleash chaos, and though the plume of white smoke covered your initial shock, Jeno knew he would see more of you, eventually.

It was like muscle memory how effortlessly his throwing knives flew through the air, hitting three in quick succession, spurts of scarlet shooting from their collarbones, tainting the ground yet again at the hands of a homicidal aficionado. 

Their cries of pain were melodic, practically a sextet of symphony that grew louder the closer Jeno got.

Just like he had planned, you were unscathed, attempting to assist one that collapsed from his attack. 

There was something different in the way you gathered your arms to lift him, something special in the way you practically ignored the obvious face of danger to make sure he felt your presence. 

Jeno wasn’t the only one that noticed—the two that lucked out from the assault called your name, practically begging you to save yourself.

But based on the caresses you gave this frail boy, you would rather die than leave him.

How was it possible that a surge of jealousy brewed within his chest just as quickly as your selflessness?

—

Jaemin and Karina continued to shout your name as they made their way towards the weeping willow trees. 

Besides them, you were the last one standing.  

Every hit replayed in your mind upon impact.

Renjun, Winter, Xiaojun—with every blink, their bodies flailed from the sheer power of the flying daggers. The wisp of each knife was just too fast for your hearing.

You couldn’t let your world stop, not with Xiaojun gasping for air as the knife protruded from his neck. He needed you, and even if he didn’t survive, you begged him to be the last person you saw.

“I’m r-right here!” 

You attempted to wrap your arms around his upper body to drag him away, but each attempt only garnered more of a struggle. 

Specks of blood continued to paint his eyelids, with blotches of purple spreading where the knife lay buried. 

The only sounds that managed to escape Xiaojun’s quivering lips were labored sobs, and the determination to reassure him began to crumble beneath your feet. 

All thoughts of an escape melted away as you heard the sheath of a knife coming out of a holster.

—

Your eyes fluttered open just as fast as your wings, though there seemed to be something restricting the full momentum at which you could generate flight.

The feeling of cold metal gave you chills all throughout your body, and the realization of where you were made you feel even colder.

You were full size, surely because the stress you endured however long ago was too much for your body to endure. And somehow, there was a cage large enough to fit you as you hung from the ceiling like a lantern. 

You gave up on trying to keep your wings stimulated as it constantly hit the black steel bars holding you hostage. None of that mattered anymore as you took in the setting before you. 

A wooden shack, rusted tools leaning against the walls, and the same dome-shaped cages hanging from the ceiling, with your friends inside. 

They each had their own confines, but the only thing separating them from you was the lack of movement and familiar pulses within their chest. 

You slammed your eyes shut to focus on any signs of a heartbeat in case your eyes were deceiving you. 

Your hearing was substantial enough to catch two—Renjun and Xiaojun.  

It only took a second for your eyes to flood with tears as you realized Winter was silent…no sign of life in her once-rosy cheeks, no luster to her auburn strands, no apparent warmth to her skin.  

Everything was cold.

And the only lasting memory you would have was her body slumped in the cage—eyes staring blank towards the exit that was so close, yet so far. 

Jaemin and Karina were nowhere to be found in the garage-sized space, but you hoped to whatever god that they managed to escape. 

If they had, they were the last ones left.

There was no ounce of hope in your survival.

“Renjun! Xiaojun! Wake up…please!” 

Your hushed cries were just enough to wake Renjun as he lay cramped in the cage. He was slightly larger than you in stature, so you could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt as his wings failed to even twitch inside the metal bars.

He grimaced before raising his hand to touch the wound on his collarbone. Blood has pooled underneath his Victorian blouse, ruining the once pearl-colored fabric.

The dagger was out, and thankfully his body generated enough clotting to seal off the gash. The same could be said for Xiaojun too.

He shifted once more before scanning the room, eventually settling upon your crying eyes.

“Where are we?”

He choked up the same curiosity your own mind had garnered, though your wishes for a proper answer were slim to none. 

“I don’t know…just please try and wake Xiaojun!” 

Renjun was closest to him, merely centimeters away.

Just as he slivered his arm through the bars to shake at Xiaojun’s shoulder, he froze upon seeing Winter.

Your eyes whirled over in the same direction, but you regretted every blink spent on viewing her lifeless body; you were sure Renjun felt the same. The pain emanating from his expression told you so.

As he fought through his blurry vision, you focused your attention back on Xiaojun, who miraculously began to shift within the cage. 

Despite his brutal awakening, you couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful he remained through all the chaos.  

He winced from the stinging in his collarbone, blaring his ivory teeth that were just as bright as the moon, and just like Renjun, he too was stained all over.

The way his eyes immediately fell upon you would’ve made any flame last for an eternity. 

You would give your life for him.

The chance to do it would be soon, crashing down like a comet that would scorch your entire body in a blaze.  

A few clicks of what you assumed to be locks chimed throughout the room, and  there standing in the oak doorway was the end to your existence. 

Jeno.

To no surprise, he stilled in the door frame with heartless eyes, gleaming with the satisfaction of his catch.

He captured four of you on his own and could’ve easily taken two more. 

He stood in silence for what felt like fifty pendulum ticks, probably deciding how to execute each of you. 

Regardless of the fact that you were his prey, and prey were never meant to stare into the eyes of their predator, you couldn’t look away.

You had gotten a good look at him when his brother killed Giselle, but seeing him in this state made all the more difference to the stories your family told of him. 

He stood in similar black attire, with plenty of tactical accessories to compliment his status as a hunter—a knife holster on his left thigh, a belt assembled with the same smoke bombs he used earlier, and a few throwing knives tucked into an ankle holster on his right side.

There was a reason he was the most brutal one of them all. 

It didn’t take a lot to kill your kind, but it made his job more enjoyable if every method imaginable could be used.

Your trailing eyes proved to be a mistake, and your upcoming death all the more damning because of how flawless he appeared in front of you. 

His looks were even more deadly up close. Your eyes could’ve melted in their sockets at the sight of his sharp jawline, or even his cheekbones that heightened the electricity of his blue eyes. 

Maybe dying at the hands of someone so unbearably perfect would make the sequence into the afterlife a little less daunting.   

It was just a shame he wouldn’t make it quick. 

Finally you closed your eyes, only using your hearing to verify that his footsteps were coming towards your own personal cage. 

Your entire body flinched as you heard him unlock it and swing the door back, the gust of air rustling your eyelashes, forcing you to open your eyes wide.

He barely had to maneuver his body to wrap one hand around your entire waist, pulling you out of the cage like you were a feather from an owl.

You were nowhere comparable in size to him—the entire length of your body was easily a difference of a foot or more but your attention to those details were the least of your worries. 

The aroma of bergamot and cedarwood filled your nose, stemming from his neck and chest. Each beat of his pulse seemed to push the scent further into your senses, intoxicating enough to distract you from the fact he slammed you into the adjacent wall.

Your entire head recoiled against the weathered hardwood, causing your vision to multiply. It wasn’t until you felt his calloused hand wrap around your throat and lift you meters above the floor, that your sights finally settled. 

The cyan in his eyes had shifted to cobalt, though the diameter of color seemed to disperse as his pupils dilated. It was enough to make you wince, but showing fear would only fuel more desire.

“Please don’t…” 

You barely heard Xiaojun’s sniffled cries in the background, as the trance Jeno put you in was too much to decipher anything else. 

He continued to speak for you, but it didn’t seem to garner any second thoughts in Jeno’s mind.

You wished to be some sort of sacrifice; a guaranteed exit for what was left of your friends. There had to be something you could do to warrant that. 

The only other possibility was actually right in front of you, though you shuddered at the thought of breaking such a promise.

You were never one to plead for your life, but that seemed to be the only viable option to please the sadist in front of you.

With one final gulp that seemed to get caught in between his palm and continue down into your stomach, you brought up your hands to wrap around his own. 

His snarl only grew more intense as he watched, and there you saw a beast unleashing.

You opened your quivering lips, making a pitiful attempt at appearing even more pathetic than you already were.

“Take me…not them.” 

Just as you expected, he forced you forward by your neck, only to slam you back against the wall. It was definitely rougher than before, enough to make your brain feel like it would pop out of your skull. 

This time he stepped forward, using his chiseled thigh to separate your twisted legs.

His face was merely millimeters away from your own, and the coolness of his breath hit your lips like a blizzard.

You wondered why he didn’t verbally challenge your need for survival, but the reason was evident once you felt his groin make contact with your torso. 

He let his length speak for him. 

And with every squirm that you gave, it  continued to twitch under the confines of his combat pants. 

What you assumed to be the tip poked right underneath your breasts, and with that came the realization of how minuscule your kind truly was in comparison to his. 

Your eyes attempted to follow his other hand as he reached for his prized bowie knife attached to his left thigh. The brief yet ominous sound of it being unsheathed caused Xiaojun and Renjun to rustle in their cages.  

From where you were positioned, you could see Xiaojun just past Jeno’s shoulders. 

During this entire ordeal, you kept your eyes away from him, as the indignity of the situation was too much for your soul to bear. But now that it seemed your death was near, it was only right that you gave Xiaojun one final look of goodbye.  

You shifted your eyes over to the one person that remained with you through it all. 

Through your peripherals you could see the glimmering metal rush towards you, but instead of feeling a sharp twinge of pain, you felt a rush of cold. 

You could hear Xiaojun and Renjun’s breath hitch from afar as they both realized too that you were completely bare in front of them. Your clothes had flown off to the side, shredded from the sharpness of his trusted blade. 

Despite the coolness in the air, the warmth emanating from your core served as an invitation for the monster prodding at your stomach. 

Your entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, maybe as some sort of coping mechanism for the humiliation brewing deep within.

“Look at me!”

Your teary eyed shifted immediately back over to Jeno as he bellowed out his command, the cluster of veins in his neck shifting as he clenched his teeth. 

Your shaking didn’t seem to help as he positioned the tip of his blade at your collarbone, pressing inward to break the skin. 

“Keep looking…just like that.”

He spoke again, barely above a whisper; his speech matching the slow tempo of the knife being dragged down the centerline of your body.

The pain was nowhere near the worst to be endured, surely it was sharpness of the blade that kept the stinging bearable. 

A trail of blood followed, a fine line that only stopped once the tip of the blade reached your clit. 

You jumped considerably at the contact, which was enough to slice the bundle of nerves if you weren’t careful. 

As you tried to keep your composure, Jeno stared deep at your struggling frame, marveling in the way gravity caused all of the maroon fluid to pool around your warm mound. 

“Did you think I would kill you so soon?”

Any means of a response were thwarted as he tossed his knife to the floor. 

You were shocked, as that seemed to be his most prized possession, but in mere seconds you realized why.

In two swift motions he finally let go of your throat, leaving you to stumble onto your feet and gain a few recovering breaths. You weren’t even sure how to stand on your own two feet anymore, as you’d grown so accustomed to being one with the atmosphere, flying so freely before any of this mess started.  

Your chances at running towards your friends to set them free were all in vain as you heard the harsh sound of a zipper and belt clasp being undone. 

The sight of his cock snapping out of his briefs was enough to make you press your back as far back into the wall as you could. 

His length stood upright, with a glistening tip that managed to refract in the dimly lit room.

Time seemed to go slow as you watched his veins continue to pulse blood throughout his cock, keeping it just as red as your flushed cheeks. 

Precum dripped like a broken faucet with a distinct patter as it continued to hit the ground just as fast as your racing heartbeat. 

Your knees buckled as he used one hand to spread the clear liquid throughout his shaft in a slick up and down motion. 

He seemed to be sensitive already as he bucked into his own hand, trying his hardest to keep his self-pleasure to a minimum. 

You looked down to your feet to see that there were two puddles on the floor, one of your blood and one of his essence. 

The way they attempted to mix together kept your senses distracted, completely missing that Jeno stepped up to you with his pants at the ground and his tight shirt pushed up to his muscular chest. 

Your legs gave out just as he used one hand to grab at your hip, and the other hand to position his cock at your entrance. 

“First time I get to fuck anything like this…”

Your brief pleas of no were cut short at his pistoned inside you without warning, attempting to tear you apart without sympathy. The guttural groan he produced from his evil chords echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls louder than your friends screams.  

There was no way to respond to that, or to any of his actions for that matter. Not when you were being stuffed full, way past your limit. 

All you could do was cry out at the pressure as he came to a standstill. 

His mouth hung open in complete awe…somehow through his infliction of pain, you were wet. 

And the addition of your blood made the entry all the more gratifying.

He was barely a few inches inside, but he was already touching your cervix, and the bulge present in your stomach confirmed it.

Burning began to surge throughout your core even as he stood still to try and accommodate more for himself. 

“You can’t—nngh it’s too much!”

If he continued any further, you weren’t sure you would be able to voice your horror any longer. 

He was too enveloped in how tight you were to care; the pleasure way above anything he’s ever killed.

Your attempts to lift off his cock only made the burning grow and eventually, earned you more inches to try and take.

Now, both hands were on either side of your hips with a death grip strong enough to leave bruised handprints on either side.

You had no choice but to wrap both legs around his waist to alleviate some of the pressure. 

It wasn’t long before his groin finally made contact with yours, and shockingly you were able to breathe through all of the discomfort as he seated himself one final time.

The only thing keeping you grounded to reality was the continuous blood that seeped from your sternum and the grunts coming from Jeno’s drooling mouth as he began rocking into you at a steady pace.

You had long forgotten the others in the room—you couldn’t focus on that now or else you would go into shock. 

But it seemed the more rhythm and sounds that grew between your connecting bodies, the more inclined Jeno was to remind you of your broken state. 

You hoped the pleasure building within your core was strong enough to overshadow your guilt…the way he continued to hit every spot within your dripping pussy made you confident enough in that fact. 

Through it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice how full you felt. 

Your lips remained pursed together, sometimes even gnawing at the puffed skin to silence the sounds trying to escape your throat. 

It wasn’t until you and Jeno’s eyes met in sync, that a whimper managed to slip. 

Your eyes grew in horror, completely ignoring the skin slapping prodding at both of your ears. 

You failed, but it seemed to fuel every fiber of his being. 

He leaned forward to bury his face into your neck, allowing his tongue to paint a shiny picture along the side of your jawline. 

You whimpered again.

Like the puppet you were, you found your hands having a mind of their own, lifting to rake your fingers through the back of his platinum locks. 

“I could kill everyone you love, but you’ll still beg to take my cock…”

He groaned into your ear, tugging at your lobe for added effect. 

That was enough to feel a wave of disdained euphoria wash over your entire body. 

There was a band that seemed to snap at every nerve ending, causing you to squeeze your walls as tight as you could around his length until you came apart. 

Your back arched involuntarily, finally giving your wings a break from the wooden wall that continued to tear the skin open with every snap of his hips. 

“Fuck!”

He turned his head to roar against your cheek, hips slowly losing their rhythm the more your orgasm continued.

You voiced your displeasure with a whine as you felt him slide out of your weeping hole, only then did you realize that he wasn’t done with you.

He managed to face you to the wall despite how limp your legs were, and within seconds he was inside you again. 

This new position was even more intense than the last. 

Your hands grabbed at any crevice you could find on the wall for support as he drilled into you from behind.

Your eyes shifted down to see your juices splattering past his cum-laden pelvis, eventually mixing where the blood had turned black against the rustic oak floor.

“I’ll just keep you for myself, nothing more than a cock hungry slut…forever alone, taking everything I give you.”

His words stabbed at you worse than any knife. 

It was too late to self-loathe any longer. The deed was long overdue, as his own release was nearing.

You felt those familiar twitches deep inside your torso, coming all the way from his scarlet-covered cock. With one final snap of his hips, heat shot deep into your womb, coating your insides in milky white. The rest pooled against his groin, spilling onto the floor to join the rest of the filth the two of you created.

His animalistic sounds had morphed into more subdued moans that played over and over like a broken vinyl as he came down from his raptured high. 

Every word of caution from your family about Jeno seemed to be nonexistent now, because of you. 

You were nothing more than a toy for him to use. 

His exited you in a single breath, allowing your bruised body to slump onto the floor.

Convulsions soon followed as you felt his juices ooze out of your swollen hole. 

You were catatonic, barely even reacting to how shameless he was in fixing his attire. 

Only your hearing guided you to what he would do next. 

Maybe it was in your favor that your eyes were stuck facing the door, away from the eventual slaughter of your friends. 

You heard Jeno pick up his knife from the floor and walk over to what you presumed to be Renjun’s cage first. 

The rustling of the metal grew just as loud as his hysterical cries.

But there was something else in the distance that you could hear, outside of the cabin. 

Footsteps.  

They grew in speed until a brief stop. 

Luckily you were facing the door, hoping for some sort of savior.

It couldn’t have been Jaemin or Karina, as you would’ve heard the flutter of their wings instead. 

Through your frozen state, only your eyes could widen as you heard the door crash open. 

There standing with frenzied breaths was…Hendery. 

“Jeno I’ve been looking every—”

You watched as he dropped his hands, eyes scanning the sickening scene in front of him. There was a deafening pause, where you hoped the last bit of humanity rested within Hendery. 

You could only listen as he lunged at Jeno with a scream.

“You can’t fucking do this!!!” 

There was an obvious power struggle, enough to knock over various items in the cabin that crashed to the ground, but not enough to make you flinch. 

“Stop!! Jeno—”

Another pause, and this time you heard a knife enter someone’s skin. A rupture of what sounded like muscle tendon rang through your ears, followed by gurgling.

Time seemed to slow down as Xiaojun and Renjun entered your vision. 

Without a second thought, they lifted your broken body into their arms, a collaborative effort considering your current state. 

It was then that you saw the aftermath. 

Jeno was sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood, with his knife peeking out of his neck. 

The entire struggle was the claim of a life. But through it all, Hendery had set you all free. 

Your tears seemed to match that of the dark-haired human as he fell to his knees, mourning the loss of his brother by his own hands. 

A lasting memory that was etched into your mind instantly. 

Soon, the smell of petrichor entered your nose and then came the moonlight that illuminated your skin.

As the two of them flew up into the sky, you felt Renjun place Winter and Giselle’s flower crown into your arms as you were carried to freedom. 

—

to read about the lore, click here!

//tagging:

@tddyhyck @tsumuu @devinitysann

@oleoleniall @wingsss45 @onlyoursol-ace @xusbabe @cheyehc @derywinkle

[safetycar-restart]

That's when Charles sees that he's giving you a belly bulge, and somehow he's never noticed that before? He whines even louder, crying out and letting out constant little whimpers afterward because his little mind can't handle that.

"Bunny?" you ask, slowing down and frowning. Neither you nor Pierre did anything to warrant that reaction, so you're confused.

In response, Charles takes your hand and puts it over your tummy, "Can see..." he mumbles, "can... can see..."

You realise what he's saying and smile, "Yeah, bunny. That's you."

JUST READ THIS ASK AND OH MY FUCKING GOOOOODDDD??????????? THIS ALTERED MY BRAIN CHEMISTRY I'M SICK IN THE HEAD

i have NEVER thought of CHARLES being the one giving YOU the belly bulge but!??!?!?!? FEED ME MOTHER

personally, in my sick little head, i believe charles has a big dick. yes. not anything out of the ordinary, but it's big! big enough so you can see the outline of his cock when he fucks you! i feel that charles didn't expect this either, because it's usually you or pierre being the ones fucking his brains out, so he is taken by suprise and his little mind is discombobulated. it's more the angle (unless...) but still, he feels so special knowing that he's the only one who gets to do this (along with pierre).

probably the first time he sees it, he lets out the most SINFUL moan you've ever heard leave his mouth (why can i imagine it i need medical attention 😭😭), and after that it's just huffs and whines, he can't take his eyes off of it.

you notice that, and when you call out for him, his shaky little hand comes up to take yours, his touch so soft, as he puts your hand over the bulge in your tummy, barely holding onto your hand with his head thrown back, mouth agape and his eyes shut. he somehow manages to mutter out a "mama... can feel... can see i- oh- i ca-", you cut him off to spare him the trouble and simply reply "yeah, bunny, that's you. you feel that? only my good little bunny makes me feel like that" (ofc pierre is not offended). charles weakly smiles at you and his dimples show before he's chasing your lips and seeking kisses, as he gets fucked into oblivion by his mommy and his pierre <3.

- 📓

I should have known that ask would summon you. Sometimes I write something and then I'm literally like '📓 anon would love this'. But anyway, these thoughts are so good!!!

Firstly, I also think Charles's has a pretty big dick. I think he's longer than average? As opposed to Pierre who is thicker than normal.

Anyway, yeah Charles's little mind explodes when he sees that. He just doesnt know how to process that he's seeing his cock in his mommy's tummy. That's... that his cock?? In mommy?? He's losing it.

He absolutely moans out loud when he sees it. The mere thought wrecks him, so to see it? No more bunny.

Of course he has to show you this. But he has no idea how to express it, because he's being fucked and you're sitting on his cock. So how on earth can he be expected to make a full sentence?

He takes your hand and puts it on your tummy, spluttering and whining and babbling about how he can see himself there. You understand what he means and smile, telling him that he's fucking you so good.

Of course the praise only serves to further wreck your bunny.

I also think you show Pierre? You take pierre's hand and put it on your tummy, letting him feel it and Pierre curses in French, mind melting at the fact that he's feeling bunny's cock inside you.

[amanda-glassen]

Olivia Gets Bold...Kind Of

Based on this post from @incorrectcabensonquotes 

At 12-years-old, Olivia’s mom had considered her far too young to have a boyfriend or girlfriend, but Olivia had found a loophole in the form of asking Alex to the Spring Fling dance. Asking a girl to a dance wasn’t the same as asking her to be her girlfriend, so Olivia figured she’d ask Alex to attend every social event with her for the remainder of their middle school years and then as soon as they started high school she’d ask Alex to be her girlfriend. Olivia considered it a foolproof plan or at least it would be if she only had the nerve to take that first step.

Although they had most of their classes together, their relationship had never progressed beyond small talk and the occasional quip related to something that had happened in class, but in Olivia’s daydreams they were practically married and had a vacation home near Disneyland. Olivia thought Alex was smart and beautiful and what first attracted her to Alex was her smile and the way only she could make the combination of glasses and braces look so glamorous. She noticed every time Alex got the bands changed in her braces－glow in the dark for Halloween, red and green for Christmas, and red and pink for Valentine’s Day were some of Olivia’s favorites and she made sure to compliment Alex each time she had them changed. Alex would smile and give her a compliment in return and, although Olivia received compliments from her friends and her mom, when Alex complimented her she truly felt it.

According to the social norms of their middle school, the window of opportunity to ask a girl to a school dance was between one and two weeks before the big night. Three weeks before was outside of the norm, but Olivia didn’t want to risk the possibility of someone else having the same thought process as her and asking Alex before she did. It was the first warm day of spring and Alex was wearing a baby blue dress with a hem that hit a couple of inches above her knees. When Olivia caught a boy in their fourth period class looking at Alex’s legs, she gave him a dirty look and made sure he knew that she was watching him. That’s it. I have to ask her before this creep does.

...but fourth period ended and then fifth, sixth, and seventh, and she still hadn’t asked Alex. Instead the two of them said goodbye to each other at the end of their seventh period class and went their separate ways－Olivia to basketball practice and Alex to her debate competition in the auditorium.

After she had changed into her typical practice attire of basketball shorts and her lucky New York Liberty t-shirt, she exited the locker room and noticed Alex sitting outside with her best friend Serena. As soon as Alex saw her, she waved her over and, although Olivia had a feeling she was motioning to her, she still turned her head to see if anyone was behind her. The sight of her turning around and then pointing to herself made Alex and Serena laugh.

“Yes, you,” Alex insisted.

Olivia nervously passed the basketball back and forth between her hands, not quite sure what to say as she stood in front of Alex and Serena.

“Do you have a game today or practice?” Serena asked, sensing that Alex and Olivia were too nervous to talk to each other.

“Just practice,” Olivia responded, grateful that Serena was there to get the conversation started. “Our last game is next week.”

“Do you know Abbie Carmichael?” Serena asked, her eyes growing wide. “She’s on your team.”

“...yeah…” Olivia responded, not quite sure what Serena was getting at.

“She’s my girlfriend as of ten minutes ago,” Serena beamed. “I wish I could watch her practice, but our competition starts soon. At least I get to see her last game. I know Alex wishes she could watch you practice.”

“Serena, stop,” Alex glared at her.

Olivia noticed Alex’s demeanor had changed as if she was trying to be happy for her friend and hide her jealousy at the same time. This is it. I have to ask her.

Olivia gently bit her lower lip. “Alex, can we talk?”

Alex straightened out her dress and ran her fingers over her hair to make sure every strand was in place. Olivia wanted to tell her that she looked perfect already and didn’t need a little touch up just to talk to her, but the words failed to come out of her mouth. 

“What did you want to talk about?” Alex asked her as soon as they were far enough away for Serena to hear them.

“It was kinda sorta just something I wanted to ask you,” Olivia responded nervously. Why does she have to be wearing a blue dress right now as the sun shines on her hair? She looks like a Disney Princess. Be her Prince Charming or at least her knight in shining basketball shorts.

“You can ask me anything.”

Seeing the baby blue bands on Alex’s braces made Olivia smile. She didn’t know if she should bare her soul or play it cool and she no longer had time to think about it, so she blurted out the question, “So...when are you going to go out with me?”

Alex smirked as she reached out to touch Olivia’s hand. “I don’t know. When are you going to ask me out?”

Olivia had expected a simple “never” or maybe even a “not in a million years and not even for a million dollars.” She was prepared for rejection or even an “I don’t know.” What she wasn’t prepared for was for Alex to flirt back.

“Uhhh...I have to go,” Olivia said as she took a step back. “I have to get to class.”

“Don’t you mean practice?” Alex asked but the discombobulated Olivia had already taken off and was too far gone to hear her.

Her discombobulated state lasted throughout her practice and, as a result, she probably wasn’t going to be a starter in the next game, but she didn’t care. It was a Friday afternoon and she was going to spend the rest of the weekend trying to forget her conversation with Alex and she hoped that nearly 72 hours apart would help Alex forget as well.

She hurriedly changed out of her practice clothes and shoved them into a gym bag. Her regular clothes didn’t look that different from her practice clothes, but at least they smelled better and Olivia knew that had to count for something. 

“Where are you going?” her best friend Elliot asked as soon as she exited the locker room. So much for making a quick escape. She had hoped to leave before the boys basketball team finished practicing and before the middle school rumor mill had caught up to her.

“My mom is expecting me home early,” Olivia said nervously.

“BS,” Elliot laughed. “Your mom isn’t expecting you home until the streetlights go on. That’s been the rule since last summer. I think you’re trying to avoid me because of what happened with Alex.”

“What happened with Alex?”

“You and I don’t gossip, so what I’m doing is just trying to confirm the truth,” Elliot began. “But Alex told Serena who then told Abbie who told Casey who then told Kathy and Kathy told me.”

“How?” Olivia asked in disbelief. “We were at practice. Kathy isn’t even on the team and neither is Casey and you’re on the boys team. How did this－you know what...nevermind. I’ll accept my fate.”

“So you just, ran away?” Elliot tried in vain not to laugh.

Olivia pressed her head against the wall of the gym. “I didn’t expect her to flirt back!”

“What did you expect? Isn’t the point of flirting with a girl for her to flirt back?”

“I’m new to this!” Olivia snapped at him. “Do you think I could just stuff myself into my locker and hide there until Monday? Where’s a bully when you need one?”

“That’s not going to solve anything,” Elliot responded. “When we take you out on Monday, everyone will just make fun of you for being stuffed in a locker instead of what happened with Alex. You’re screwed either way.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be my best friend?”

“I’m just saying…”

“Maybe she already forgot about it,” Olivia said as they left the gym, but as soon as she saw Alex sitting outside with Abbie and Serena, she realized she’d have no such luck.

“Her friends are looking this way and laughing,” Elliot brought to her attention. “She definitely hasn’t forgotten about it.”

She noticed Alex give Serena a piece of paper. Serena crossed her fingers before hugging Alex and Olivia was suddenly struck by a sense of fear. Is she going to laugh at me on paper too?

Serena had a bounce in her step when she walked over to them, which scared Olivia even more. 

“This is from Alex,” she smiled as she handed Olivia a piece of folded up paper and a pen. “She wants an answer now. You don’t have to say your answer out loud. Just write it on the note. Alex wanted to be the one to ask you out. She thinks if she doesn’t do it, it’ll never get done”

“Will you go out with me?” Olivia read to herself. Without hesitation, she wrote “Yes!” and handed the note back to Serena. 

Serena gingerly folded up the piece of paper into a perfect square. “You’re officially going out with Alex now.”

It had all happened so fast and Olivia felt more like she had signed a legal document than been asked out by the girl of her dreams, but in the end she didn’t care how it happened as long as she was now officially going out with Alex; however, there were still two problems. She was now too nervous to even make small talk with the girl she was going out with and she had no idea what going out meant.

When she saw Alex and her friends walking toward the designated area for parents to pick up their kids, she knew it was now too late to ask.

She had intended on asking Alex to the dance. It would have been direct with no room for a misunderstanding, but going out was vague and left 12-year-old Olivia more confused than she had ever been in her entire life.

“El, what does going out mean?” she asked as they walked to Elliot’s house. “Are we just going to the dance? Is she my girlfriend? I’m not even allowed to have a girlfriend yet. Am I supposed to walk her to class and carry her books? What does any of this mean? I don’t want her to expect something and I don’t deliver because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“I don’t know,” Elliot shrugged. “Just talk to her and ask her. She already seems like she’s in charge in this relationship.”

Olivia covered her face with her hands. “I don’t have her phone number or any of her social media. She’s my girlfriend or the girl I’m going out with and I don’t even know how to contact her.”

“I know what you can do and it’ll score you some points,” Elliot began. “I know where Alex lives. I did a group science project at her house last year. Just buy her some flowers or something and surprise her at her house. She’ll think you’re the best girlfriend or whatever you are and brag to her friends and you can talk to her about what going out means.”

“Buy her flowers with the five dollars I have stuffed inside my dirty gym bag?” Olivia asked. “And, no way am I gonna randomly just show up at her house.”

Elliot started to walk backwards so he could face her. “Liv, her dad has an 85-inch TV. It was the coolest thing I ever saw and he can stream any sport from anywhere in the world. You have to see it to believe it.”

Olivia was intrigued. “Any sport in the world? Wait, no, I’m still not just showing up at her house. I’ll do things the old fashioned way, get invited, and then watch sports on her dad’s 85-inch TV.”

“You’re more interested in sports than your girlfriend?” Elliot laughed.

“...no…” Olivia hesitated. I have so much to learn and unless I get her phone number I won’t learn any of it until Monday.

[izabellq]

DREAMS -> Akaashi Keiji

summary: a soulmate au where you see each other in your dreams.

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

word count: 3k

contains: angst, fluff, open-ended (also, if you guys spot instances where i specify gender, let me know and i’ll try to fix it asap! i edited this but sometimes, things just slip by)

akaashi keiji thinks the world is cruel.

he swipes the dust off the leather bound book before carefully sliding it back into it’s alphabetized slot. he carefully maneuvers himself around the oak wooden shelves, letting his feet track footprints into the burgundy rug below him. with a sigh, he realizes he is yet again desolated. a library reverie dedicated solely to himself and his predestined soulmate. yet, it seemed the universe had yet chosen one quintessential for him. akaashi didn’t need perfect, but on some days, he just wanted to have someone.

the macrocosm was seemingly convinced he was unfit to wield one. strung on the idea that he was intolerable and unmatchable. akaashi’s pessimistic attitude had betrayed his hopeful one, and soon, he was unable to shield himself from the knowledge that perhaps-- there was no one in the world meant for him.

(he still desires one, because he’d love nothing more than to connect with the person who he was bound to meet. he wants to depict their love in unrealistic fairytales.)

nights go by where he falls asleep and lounges in his fantastical library. he decides he could write a book with all the time he has to himself. but then again, he knows better than anyone that most of his projects remain unfinished. he’s lost inspiration, captured by the nasty talons of writer’s block. he thinks he’s at the end of his rope, and for a second he believes it’s about time he goes down a different career path. but he doesn’t do that. mostly because he’s unsure, and partially because he’s still filled with hope.

(but when his soulmate never shows, he comes to realize that hope is a fickle thing.)

it's one random day of the week where akaashi’s schedule isn’t as rigid as it habitually is. after a long afternoon of practice (which doesn’t stray from the norm) he’s desperate for sleep, and despite knowing that taking a nap would complicate his circadian rhythm, he was rather desperate.

drifting towards the soulmate reality became a feat he was more than used too. the vertigo he commonly experienced was quick to depart as he molded into his surroundings, the familiar scent of paper musk and printed ink leaves much to be desired.

though, if there was one thing that was slightly unsettling— it was the disruption of books laid despotic on the floor. akaashi, though only sometimes forgetful, had never once committed such a polluted act. he was always careful to restore books to their proper position once concluded, so he wondered what possible entity could have disrupted the neat nature of his lonesome library.

(it’s when you round the corner that all his presumptions were answered.)

oh dear, he thinks, you’re a winsome mess. books pulled into your chest, pajama pants folded past your ankle, a tank top only doing so much as to cover your chest and stomach. your mouth is shaped into an ‘o’ as if his presence was the most stupefying thing around— when really, it was you. 

(a book slips from your grasp, a reverberation follows shortly. he tries not to wince as it lands on its pages, folding the corner of the paper.)

the moment of shock is lost and your look of astonishment is replaced with mild skepticism. “who are you?” you ask, almost defiantly. 

“akaashi,” he replies honestly, though the look on your face seems to morph in some sort of revelation that he can’t understand. 

“say it again,” the stern tone of your voice lets him know that it wasn’t a mere request but a demand. he isn’t quite sure why you’re so on edge but because he already seems like the most rational one between the two of you, he doesn’t argue.

“my name is akaashi keiji,” he repeats himself, his concern only multiplied by the sting of comprehension creased into the sight wrinkles of your face. a part of him truly understands the circumstance before him, though a portion of him doesn’t want to give into the naïveté— because for so long, he was cursed with the belief that he didn’t deserve a soulmate. 

“your words keep getting… blurred,” you tried your best to explain, though no matter how detailed your explanation, the experience couldn’t be put into perfect words. “you know what that means… don’t you?”

of course he knows. on days where he thought his life was the one exception— he researched every story about soulmates as he possibly could. some were undoubtedly fake, others were heartwarming, but the one common piece of information he stumbled upon was that soulmates couldn’t hear personal information about the other whilst in their dream world. perhaps to prevent early encounters or just to make the process seemingly endless; either way, akaashi was well aware.

“i didn’t think i had a soulmate,” he lets his guard down decently low, though the flutter in his heart alerts him that it’s all going to come crashing down eventually. 

“neither did i,” you admit, placing down the books wrapped in your arms onto the floor. he wants to question what you could possibly be doing, but there’s more alarming inquiries he needs answers too.

good thing you seem just as eager to figure out why today was any different. “did you do anything today that might’ve been different from your usual routine? i went to bed at eleven… which isn’t any different from any other day.”

that’s when it hit akaashi— the answer was so obvious. “we live in different time zones. that’s the only reason i can think of…”

he trailed off, having been caught in the most frustrating loop of incredulity. all this time… you were right there… so close yet so far. the only thing that had separated his years of getting to know you was a different sleep schedule. in due time, he may look back at this incident and laugh— but right now, he felt cheated out of the most basic human experience ever.

(like a story, this was only the rising action— or perhaps the exposition, because this was truly the start of something new.)

he wants to speak, to reach out and connect with you in all the ways he’s only wished to do, but your harmonious laugh distracts him from his thoughts. “i never understood why my soulmate reality was a library. i guess that’s because of you, right?”

he doesn’t understand your change in personality in the same way he can’t tell when bokuto’s in a bad mood until it’s happening right before his eyes (though others would beg to differ). he’s desperate to learn everything there was to know about you— most importantly, your name. It’s the only thing he wants to know.

instead, he settles on, “what are you doing with those books?” 

it’s obvious you weren’t expecting that question, but then again, how was akaashi supposed to ignore the books you're defiling by simply letting them scatter on the floor? 

with a shy giggle, you respond, “well… since i thought i was alone, i was going to make a huge fort with them… ya know, cause i'm not much of a reader.”

from the red tint of your cheeks to the way your head was slightly tilted to the left was surefire proof of your discombobulation. and to akaashi, it seemed to hold such a power over him that he was unable to keep check his usual deportments. screw etiquette! this wasn’t even reality! 

“i’ll help you build one,” he offers, picking up a book from the ground. he runs his thumb over the edges, smoothly out the wrinkles that had surfaced. 

your head perks up, an opulent grin painting the once grimace. “really?!”

(for a smile like yours, he’d do just about anything to safeguard it’s fluoresce.)

back in the real world, all day his thoughts are occupied with you. you exist, your real, somewhere out in the world, your waiting for him. it’s a condolement he’s not willing to gamble with. he finds himself wanting to take more naps, just for the chance to indulge in another conversation with you. of course, it meant the eye bags under his eyes had sunken into a deeper shade— not noticeable to anyone that wasn’t him, and considering the effect it had on his everyday appearance, he’s come to the conclusion that it’d be nearly impossible to visit you every day of the week. it wouldn’t stop him from trying though.

from the side of the volleyball court, kuroo nudges bokuto skeptically. “what’s with that look on akaashi’s face… it’s starting to freak me out.”

bokuto hums— in approval? in contempt? who knows, but he’s happy. “he told me he finally met his soulmate. he’s just excited!”

“ah,” kuroo clicks his tongue knowingly, “i thought he didn’t have one?”

“turns out, they just go to sleep and wake up at different times. konoha thought it was pretty funny,” bokuto relayed, a chuckle bubbling under his throat. for so long, he had witnessed akaashi’s self-doubt and insecurity, and while parts of them still existed, it seemed to be slowly resolving itself. he couldn’t be more happier for his best friend.

“well, tell him to start focusing, i want to beat you guys when you’re at your best,” kuroo smirked, narrowing his gaze onto bokuto.

“you’re so on!”

(for the rest of practice, they had to endure akaashi’s love-sick gaze. fukurōdani still won.)

a month had passed since your very first interaction together. getting to know each other was more laborious than first intended. some words remained blurred, preventing the other from learning anything that might accelerate the rate of introduction in the real world. akaashi just wanted to know your name. it’s how he came to learn that while the universe was giving, it was also relentless.

“hey! i've been waiting for you, you know! i want to show you something!” you call from under the makeshift book fort. having just arrived, he knows from this point on, he has around thirty minutes before he’s awoken for dinner. 

thirty minutes, four times a week— the only times he’s ever been able to talk to you, due to the tight schedule you both live in. it’s too little, too small, and he feels selfish for wanting more. 

crawling under the fort, he pushed himself up to the side, wanting to give you as much room as possible in the cramped spot. in your hands, you have a book— it’s thin, meant for children, pages that combine to tell a moral. when you hand it over, it takes him less than a second to deduce the story and it’s plot. not because he’s some genius who had read every book on the face of the earth but because this story was rather popular in other parts of the world.

“sleeping beauty,” he reads aloud. his fingers run over the cover, trying to mentally depict what could be so important about this story that had you desperately trying to show him.

“it’s one of my favorite stories,” you sigh, propping your elbow on top of your thigh, leaning the weight of your face on your dominant hand. “my grandma used to read it to me all the time.”

oh. oh. you’re not asking what he thinks you're asking? right?

“can you read it to me, please?”

you are asking. his heart beats against the tightness of his chest, his ribs feel a tad out of place. and he knows— soulmates or not, he was utterly and completely yours. his cheeks flame and he attempts to hide it under his shirt.

“are you blushing?” you ask, and he can practically feel the teasing grin on your lips.

“no,” he mutters. 

you shuffle from your spot and coincidentally; tower over him. your hands and legs trap his body under your presence. you’d practically be touching him if the soulmate reality allowed you too. akaashi finds that to be the greatest travesty of them all. even though it’s practically impossible, he can feel your warmth radiate around him as if you were actually there. 

“does that mean you’ll read to me?” you ask, the battering of your eyelashes ever so visible. he doesn’t understand how you came to that conclusion, but it only tells him you knew exactly how’d he’d answer before he did.

“i’ll read it to you… just don’t laugh, okay?” akaashi opened the book, flipping the white picture-pages until he had reached the first chapter. you giggle, obeying his request with much hypocritism. you moved to sit beside him, leaning just a bit aways over his shoulder to follow along.

(akaashi isn’t a prince, but he’s more than willing to be yours if you asked.)

“i’m moving… so who knows? maybe we might meet in person one of these days,” you declare. It’s been an entire year now since he’s met you and it’s safe to say he’s utterly whipped. now in his second year of high school, he thinks he’s gotten to know you well enough to the point where the only thing left to learn is your name. 

(what’s your name??)

“you’re moving? above or below the equator?” he jokes.

luckily, you laugh-- knowing that there really isn’t much you can say without your words becoming a blurred mess. “i’m still above the equator, loser. actually, if we’re going to get really specific— i’d say the northern hemisphere.”

you guys laugh at your puny attempt of a joke. really, you know it meant no difference, and the fact that you can only rely on fate to carry you through is pitying to say the least.

“i can’t wait to meet you,” akaashi declares honestly, pulling on his fingers in habit. he wants to say more, anything that remotely rhymes with i love you, but he wants to save that special moment for the day he meets you. he knows more than anything that you’re waiting for the same.

“i can’t wait either— honestly, i think my mom might be more excited than i am. i talk about you all the time, you know?” you softly lean against your book fort, your eyes as happy looking as your smile.

(yeah, it’s safe to say he can’t wait.)

akaashi and writer’s block do not coexist peacefully. 

struggling to find words to replace the repetition created on pages, desperately searching for a means of inspiration-- he’s awfully close to giving up.

with a huge essay due tomorrow and a huge game he can’t afford to lose on the same day, he stresses over the fact that he may not be able to put his one-hundred-percent effort into both. even in the middle of a library (he should note: in the real world), a place where solitude was absolute, it provided no peace of mind.

it’s only when a small child, no older than five, wobbles out of the kid’s section with a copy of sleeping beauty, that akaashi’s reminded of you. with a small smile, he calms himself down. after all, you are his greatest muse.

(you’d probably laugh in his face if he told you that.)

after moving away from your hometown, which wasn’t quite as jarring as you expected it to be, you were quick to make friends. you wouldn’t call yourself a social butterfly— but contrary to most teen dramas, new students weren’t ‘fresh meat’ ready for the picking. finding a comfortable group of people you could associate yourself with, you found that most of them were volleyball fanatics (not because they actually played the sport, but because there were a lot of cute boys on the teams around the area, or so they say). either way, going to one of the games was inevitable. like a sort of inauguration you had to go through if you truly wanted to be considered part of the group.

you wouldn’t have it any other way.

after all, akaashi plays volleyball— that much you knew. the team name couldn’t be said, but at least you knew the sport he associated himself with. although he wouldn’t admit it, he was good, his team was good; after all, they made it to nationals and that was more than enough substantial proof. and while you didn’t want to get your hopes up, you were going to watch the national matches. you wondered… could this be the day?

walking up to the main arena, there was a certain ponderosity in the air that you couldn’t describe. it was as if a crushing truth was about to fall on your shoulders, and not knowing where it was about to fall from— you felt a crawling chill.

at the same time, akaashi had just finished the first game of the nationals match, split between wanting to rest or attend to bokuto’s high spirits. he’s attempting to walk into the main arena to watch the karasuno vs inarizaki match, but with his team basically surrounding him in their own attempts to make their way through— he deems the effort fruitless. 

just as he approaches the door, so do you.

but you're too busy keeping up with your friends.

and he’s too busy trying to squeeze past a ranting bokuto.

your hands graze each other’s, and simultaneously, you both receive a shock that runs down the basis of your spines. something prompted him to search for the cause of the odd feeling, and in that moment, he finds you. your back is faced towards him, your hair made no difference in the immediate recognition process-- but he’s sure that he’s met you before. he just knows it. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, a fraction of a second away from being revealed. 

he watches as your friends wait up for you, before your social circle turns around the corner and disappears from his sight (he gets hit with a strong sense of nostalgia from that). his heart stings, for reasons he can’t quite place. he’s never been too good at distinguishing his feelings anyways. bokuto is ushering him towards the stadium seating area, and the answer once on akaashi’s mind had dissipated into the air.

once he turns the corner, the moment is forgotten.

it’s only when he falls asleep later that night, not having dreamed of you, that it dawns on him.

akaashi keiji thinks the world is cruel.

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

[welllpthisishappening]

But Once a Year (2/5)

This is a trick.

It has to be. Something Pan planned, or some nonsense only possible in Neverland, because one second Emma’s sitting outside the Echo Caves and wondering how exactly things could possibly get worse, and then the world decides to take her up on the challenge. She’s not where she was. Or when she was, either.

And the future isn’t entirely what Emma expects it to be, but that might not be entirely horrible and Christmas with a husband and a family that quite clearly loves her is only kind of messing with her head. God bless us, every one.

————

Rating: T Word Count: 9.1K which is also more than I remember writing. Which should probably be the subheadline of my life.  AN: Guys! All of you! Collectively! Separately! Thank you so much for your genuinely incredible response to this story that took on a life of its own. It’s very nice! You’re all very nice! More exclamation points! This time around we’ve got; a very discombobulated timeline, bedtime stories, peak!dad David, peak!dad Killian and f e e l i n g s. 

Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam || Or you can start from the start

————

“How did you figure it out?” He lifts his eyebrow. Only one, and exactly the same way he does in whatever part of time the real Killian Jones is lingering in, but the thought of this Killian Jones not being entirely real makes Emma’s stomach knot. Several times over. She can’t stop staring at his eyebrow. It’s off-putting. And the complete opposite of that. “Out?” Killian echoes. “Not when?” “No, no I figured you knew pretty much from the get, but—” Emma shrugs. Tries very hard not to fall off the kitchen counter. Which might actually be made of granite. 

God, maybe they’re legitimately rich. 

She can’t imagine what the mortgage on a house like this is. 

She can’t imagine there are actually mortgages in Storybrooke. 

“Were you thinking about going to get your sword? Because it seems shitty to challenge an unarmed person to a fight.” The eyebrow gets higher. Arch'ier. Pointier, even. “As you’ve already pointed out today, I am a pirate. And that’s not really an answer to my question.” “Or mine,” Emma challenges. “Are you not a pirate anymore, then?” “You know you’d make a rather atrocious spy, darling.” Sneering is decidedly juvenile and the only thing Emma is capable of doing in the moment. “You are dancing around any answer and—” “—Well, if you’re a time traveling, abysmal spy then it seems wrong to provide you with any more information than what you’ve already gleaned from your day here, doesn’t it?”

She deflates. 

Shoulders sag and exhaustion creeps up the wholly unnatural and very uncomfortable curve of Emma’s spine, fear tickling the back of her mind because Killian hasn’t actually made a single move towards the basement, but she’s only passably sure of where the basement is and the specific sort of glint in his eyes makes her even more confident that he wouldn’t mind brandishing his sword at her. 

Literally in this instance. 

“I’m not sure it’s time travel,” she mumbles, staring at a floor that is questionably clean if it does in fact belong to her. Maybe Killian cleans. “Fascinating.” “I’m not the bad guy here.” “Because I am?”

Her shoulders can’t sink any lower. They try all the same, shamed by the hitch in his breath and the tilt of his head, angled to make his hair drift across his brows and eyes that are as distracting as ever and far too easy to get swept up in and—

Emma swallows. 

Exhales. She doesn’t remember when she decided to hold her breath. 

“I don’t know,” she admits softly, barely able to move her lips and no one remembered to turn the Christmas tree off. Lights reflect off the ridiculous number of windows in the wall, painting streaks of color on paint that isn’t blue and shouldn’t remind anyone of a ball gown Emma knows she hasn’t worn yet, but it’s pretty all the same and she wonders why she wound up here. At this point. This moment. 

Killian might not be breathing either. 

“What do you know, then?” 

Emma bites her lip. Hard. “That one second I was somewhere else, and then I was—” Shaking her head does not help what is undoubtedly a migraine blooming behind her left eye, but she hasn’t fallen off the counter yet and she imagines victories are going to be few and far between, so it seems fair to cling to them as they pass by. Six of her knuckles crack when she grips the kitchen counter. “Waking up, and you were telling me we had to go get paint, and people were bowing to me.” “They don’t do that where you’re from.” “Not a question.” “No,” Killian agrees, which is a very strange way of doing that, “more like a documented point. You haven’t tried to attack anyone yet, though. So I suppose that’s at least one marker on the positive column.” “I’m not going to attack anyone!” Eyes flashing at the crack in Emma’s voice, Killian’s neck all but snaps as he glances over his shoulder. Towards a staircase, and she hasn’t spent too much time upstairs yet, but those same stairs are as empty as they were sixteen seconds earlier and the force of Killian’s exhale ruffles the ends of his hair. 

“If you wouldn’t mind being just a touch quieter,” he all but growls at her, spinning back around with far more grace than Emma thinks is entirely fair, “I’d really appreciate it. Takes her forever to fall asleep.” “Hope, you mean? Don’t I, well—don’t we or…” “I’d suggest you stop talking.”

“And you’re still avoiding my questions,” Emma accuses through clenched teeth. That only hurts her jaw. And the rest of her, really. She’s so tired, she can’t believe she’s still forming coherent sentences. Counting that as another marker in the positive column is probably a dick move. 

And the standoff that ensues over the next twenty-seven and two-thirds seconds is something in the realm of ridiculous. Clenching her jaw tight enough to crush a variety of diamonds, Emma resolutely refuses to blink, and Killian’s an ass, apparently, so he simply stares right back, while his shoulders heave on every inhale. 

She doesn’t know what to say. Has no idea what string of words will convince this relative stranger, who still feels like someone who could potentially be hers in an overwhelming sort of way, that she’s not a threat and wouldn’t do anything to hurt that kid upstairs. Not when that kid did her own bit of staring at Emma all evening, like she was the sun and the moon, and a variety of constellations and—

Killian drags a hand over his face. Leaves red streaks in his wake, twisting the skin on his cheeks and the stubble there doesn’t move because it can’t, but Emma’s admittedly starting to teeter again. In more ways than one, really. 

The crinkles around his eyes are deeper. As if he’s used to laughing and smiling, and Hope had clung to him on their walk home. 

There’s that word again. 

Doing something silly to Emma’s heart. 

“I know you’re not going to attack anyone,” he sighs, “although I don’t really know if you’re in a position to demand I tell you anything, either.”

“What if we call it a request?” His lips twitch, fighting off the smile Emma can see tugging at his mouth and it’s definitely wrong to find any confidence in that. Charming a guy who’s already married and procreating with a different version of her shouldn’t be regarded as another victory. 

She’s going to do it anyway. 

“Tell me who you are, then.” “I’m—” Grunting hurts Emma’s throat, both of her elbows threatening to damage her ribs when she flails her hands. “I’m me. Just—” “—Not mine?” “Oh, that’s decidedly possessive.” Humming, Killian’s nod is barely that. More like a quick jerk of his chin and swipe of his tongue across the front of his teeth. She’s got to stop staring at his mouth. “Aye, it might be. I am having some difficulty wrapping my head around this, though. So you’ll have to forgive me.” Emma scoffs. Nearly laughs, really — which is as surprising as it is nice, and nothing about this can be nice. On principle. Her body doesn’t seem to care, and her heart certainly cares even less, and it’s still a struggle to rationalize this version of Killian with the one she left, but there are far more similarities than her brain is able to process quite yet and that same dark and distant part is very quick to point out she’d like to. 

No matter where she might be sitting.

If she’d let herself. 

“You can feel my magic?”

Killian nods. “Usually.” “What does that mean? It doesn’t always work?” “I—” Gritting his teeth only shows off how frustratingly straight there are, and at some point she’s going to ask about that. Pirates don’t get braces, after all. “I’d rather not disrupt all of time by telling you things you don’t already know.” “I don’t know anything,” Emma argues, trying very hard not to scream the words. And only sort of succeeding. 

“Did you fall into a portal?” “Are you fucking with me?” Killian glares at her again. “I’d advise very strongly that you answer the question, Swan.”

“Or what? You’ll legitimately go get your basement sword? Why do you keep your sword in the basement, anyway? Aren’t there—I mean, a monster a week in Storybrooke, right?” His goddamn fucking tongue is going to be the death of her. Sooner or later, Emma is positive. Shifting and poking at the side of his cheek, and she can hear the gears again, trying to place the few clues she’s given him with a life he’s already lived and it is absurd that she even thought the word clues. 

“Not in quite some time,” he admits, and Emma’s mind leaps. Back to conversations and knights and realm-borders. She needs a map. Or Regina, God help her. “That’s not the point, though. It’s—” Another head shake and hair movement, and pinching the bridge of his nose only makes it ten-thousand times easier to see the ring on his finger.

There are a lot of Christmas lights in this house. 

“You’re not someone else,” Killian finishes softly. 

“Disappointing, I know.” His head moves so quickly it’s hardly more than a semi-dark blur of hair and slightly pained eyes. Both of which make Emma very glad for her spot on the counter. If she had been standing, she would have fallen over. In a rather undignified heap. 

“No,” Killian exhales as the magnets make a glorious return. He crowds into her space before she’s entirely ready for it. Although that also suggests Emma would ever be ready for the way his face has twisted and how ridiculously warm he continues to be, the hand that’s already resting on her knee threatening to burn straight through her jeans. “Strange,” he adds, clenching his fingers when Emma flinches, “and possibly a little terrifying, since—” “—Your Emma has disappeared entirely.” He grins. It’s disarming, and inching closer to the kind of flirting they’d been dancing around before and Emma’s got to get off this dancing metaphor kick. She’s not a good dancer, anyway.  “No portal, right?” “No portal,” she confirms. “And I’m not entirely convinced this isn’t a very lucid dream, so.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. 

She realizes that about halfway through the sentence. Any hint of camaraderie or déjà vu-based flirting disappears from Killian’s face and immediately shifts into the same brand of pain that came when she called him Hook. 

Biting her lip is really Emma’s only option.

“You don’t think this is real,” he whispers, another statement she doesn’t feel the need to point out. Shrugging, Emma’s vocal chords fail her again, and the step Killian takes away from her resembles a rather large chasm. 

Grand Canyon-esque. 

“We’re back to things I don’t know,” Emma says, “but um—do we have other kids? Aside from Hope, I mean? I—” Heat rises in her cheeks, the weight of the compliment threatening to burst out of her both foreign and necessary and Killian doesn’t do anything. Well, he lifts his eyebrows again, but that’s something like second nature to him and Emma refuses to count it and his fingers find the back of his hair. 

Huh. 

“Henry,” he replies.

“And you’re counting Henry? As—” Her tongue is really going to become a problem, if it’s going to remain this size in her mouth. “As your kid too?”

Strictly speaking, Emma’s not sure she actually wants an answer. Can only imagine what her emotions will do if she hears the confirmation that’s quite obviously pressing behind the seams of Killian’s mouth, but that confirmation might also prove several thousand things that have been at war in her for far longer than she’d ever be willing to admit, and he nods once. 

“In all the ways that matter,” Killian says. “And Neal is…” Shaking his head, all Emma gets is another smirk as soon as she huffs out her frustration, but the frustration is also kind of lacking when it feels like her whole body is running on overdrive and there’s no way he could fake the emotion behind those words. Even in a dream-like state. She’s not creative enough to come up with that particular voice inflection. 

“How’d you know?” she presses. “Honestly?” “Aside from your rather startling inability to act like yourself?” “Yeah. Aside from that.”

Stairs creak behind them, a not-quite ominous warning that this conversation has lasted longer than it should and there’s a kid of indeterminate age demanding to be put back to bed just out of sight. Emma should figure out how old her kid is. 

Hopefully that won’t ruin the space-time continuum, either. 

“You’ve got this lovely habit of calling me babe,” Killian drawls, leaning close enough that Emma swears she can smell him. Wishful thinking, maybe. “And I can’t remember the last time you called me Hook.”

He flashes her another grin — reminiscent of a man who is not this one, and then he’s gone, scooping up the kid and muttering promises against her hair, and Emma never knows how long she spends sitting on the kitchen counter. 

She does creep, eventually. 

Curiosity gets the better of Emma the longer she sits there, waiting without much hope for Killian to return. He’s not going to. She knows that. There’s only so many times he can come back, and this is a totally different thing than it was before, but it's also a perfect segue to the other reason she hopes off the counter. Her overall discomfort. Literally, and metaphorically. Marble, it seems, is a very fancy stone and good for the kitchen counters some alt-version of her eventually owns, but it also starts to dig into the back of her knees and those knees are bent kind of weird and in the grand scheme of where she wants to look again, inching up the stairs to peer through the barely closed door of Hope’s room is a much more appealing prospect than a basement that apparently houses weapons. 

So, Emma doesn’t spend too long thinking of the pros and cons, or how she should really be creeping towards the room of someone who might understand magic and why she’s here. Instead, she winces slightly on the creaky step halfway up the staircase and does her best to stay in the shadows, but these shadows aren’t quite as terrifying as they were in the realm she’s only just recently teleported from and that probably doesn’t mean a whole lot. 

He’s reading her a story. 

Captain Hook, terror of several storybook seas and probably a few Emma isn’t aware of, just to drive home the confusion point, sits propped up against a mess of pillows with his sock-covered feet stretched out in front of him, and curls pushed up against his side, a book balanced precariously on one thigh and she really would make the world’s worst spy. She hadn’t noticed the empty brace at the end of his arm. 

That’s never happened before. 

Honestly, she wasn’t even entirely sure it was possible, which is total asshole territory and maybe she’ll just collapse. Right here in the hallway. The carpet looks almost plush, so it might not be the worst move. 

And trying to memorize the look of it only feels like a half-dick'ish move, if only because the lack of a hook does sort of confirm the overall safety of this place, and Emma figures that outweighs whatever scene she’s interrupting. Or trying not to, as it were. 

Knotted scars line his skin, some of them looking older than others and that makes a few more of Emma’s internal organs flip. Something that feels a bit like anger rises in the back of her throat, an unexpected emotion that isn’t really directed at anyone except the people who caused those scars and that pain and he looks comfortable. 

Now, at least. 

Even slouched as he is against pillow cases that are far too frilly and remind Emma far too much of her mother. She keeps documenting. Lets her eyes trace over every inch of Killian — the way his fingers fluttering mindlessly against Hope’s back, brushing away strands of hair with the kind of ease that makes it clear this is a regular occurrence. His shoulders aren’t as taut as they were in the kitchen, but his head lolls towards the side more than once as fatigue starts to color his gaze. 

The story has princesses in it. Well, one princess. On a rather expansive adventure, if Emma’s actually keeping up with the plot. Dropped into a place she’s unfamiliar with, the princess in question naturally has a dashing love interest — although his name is Charles, so...maybe not all that dashing — and they get into several more adventures. Which include, but apparently are not limited to; taverns, a ridiculous amount of flirting, interactions with pirates, kissing as a distraction, the last of which endlessly entertains Hope, and the overall force of the little girl’s laugh makes Emma’s breath hitch, but then there’s more to the story and of course there’s a ball. More royalty, too. Obstacles are faced, only to be immediately overcome and Emma’s smile happens without any thought to the overall inappropriate nature of it. 

“And,” Killian says, shaking his head until his nose grazes Hope’s hair, “the exceptionally dashing prince took on the guards single-handedly, telling the princess to go and get the treasure they’d been looking for. While—” “—’Feating all of them, right?” Hope exclaims. As much as it’s possible to exclaim while also sounding half asleep. 

“In dramatic fashion. There was quite a lot of spinning involved. Made his jacket look all the more impressive. Fluttering tails and whatnot.”

Eyes flicker towards Emma’s garbage hiding spot, and she’s still not breathing correctly, so the odds aren’t very good he heard her, but she’s wondered more than once if he doesn’t just have a sixth sense when it comes to her and possibly them, and she pulls her lips behind her teeth. 

“What happened after that?” 

Most of Hope’s question comes out as a singular word, Killian’s soft laugh both indulgent and decidedly parental and he kisses her once before muttering, “Nuh uh, you’ve already gotten more story than you should, and you’ve got to get some rest.” “But I—”

Shaking his head once is all it takes for silence to descend on the room, although it does come with a slight pout and that’s—weird, it’s weird. Watching her own facial expressions reflect back to her from a kid she didn’t know existed a few hours earlier is more than enough to send Emma reeling. Wobbly knees shake underneath her, retreating in just enough time to not look totally suspicious as Killian mumbles something else and closes the door behind him, and she might have been right about the eye thing. 

They practically fly towards her. 

And the wall that was far closer than Emma anticipated. Hitting her head on it hurts more than it usually would, she imagines. 

“Truly,” he says, “an absolutely Gods awful spy.” “Was that supposed to be plural? On the Gods, I mean?” Tilting his head is the only response Emma gets, and she can’t blame him for that. For anything, really. “Does that happen a lot? The, uh—the stories.”

Silence. 

Relatively speaking. There’s the distinct sound of disgruntled kid on the other side of the other side of the door, what Emma figures are four flailing limbs as it appears Hope is determined to beat her half a dozen pillows into submission. 

Little sea monster makes a bit more sense now. 

“I do that too.”

Fatigue disappears. To make room for the invisible two-by-four that settles between Killian’s shoulder blades, shifting them until his spine is ramrod straight and he’s staring at Emma like that was the most obvious statement in the history of the world. 

“I’m well aware,” he says, but his voice drops, gruffer than it’s been all day. She’s going to bite both her lips in half. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s—makes sense, I guess. I, um—” No one actually told her to take her boots off, but Emma might have assumed, and the carpet does feel soft. Through her socks, at least. While she tries to dig a hole into the ground with her toe. So she can fall into it. “Seemed like a popular story.” “Aye, it is. Big fan of sword fights.”

“Ah, well, when they’re full of dashing princes who wouldn’t be?”

It’s another thoughtless sentence. One that makes Killian’s tongue shift and then his mouth shift and Emma only stares at that for a few seconds before her eyes drop to his arm and his wrist and—

He twists his arm. Behind his back. 

Her inability to dig a hole with her foot is genuinely disappointing. 

“A question for the ages,” he says. “What are the other ones, then?” “Excuse me?” “I cannot keep telling you how badly you mask your expressions. It seems redundant. So while I also can’t imagine getting too much information will be good, you’ve obviously got questions. As do I, if we’re being honest.” “Are we being honest?”

The lack of sword belt — or actual pants — makes it all the more absurd when he leans forward, thumb hooking into the top of the sleepwear he’s got on, and Emma’s fairly proud of her ability to not linger on that particular thing. Less so in her ability to temper the butterflies in her stomach as soon as Killian leans forward. 

Directly into her space. 

He must radiate heat. 

“I’ve never been anything except entirely honest with you, love,” Killian says, and there’s no way to doubt those words or that voice and Emma hasn’t. Ever, actually. 

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“Eventually you really do believe it.” Blood hits her tongue — sharp and absolutely disgusting, threatening to make her retch in the middle of the hallway. Only marginally better than her hole idea. By some miracle, sent from an apparently merciful God, Emma manages to take a deep breath, jutting her chin out and meeting Killian’s almost cautious gaze with a determination of her own. 

The kind that sends magic shooting down her arms, and directly into the tips of her fingers. His eyes widen. 

“That’s never been the problem. It’s—” They’ve got to stop cutting themselves off. Sentences that hang without end will torment Emma for the foreseeable future, but the muscles in her neck are going to seize up if she doesn’t twist them, and Killian’s fingers tense at his side when her hair moves. Like he wants to brush it away from her face. “Where’d the tree come from?” “Anton.”

“No.” “Swan, we just proclaimed honesty and now you’re—” “—Don’t know if it was a proclamation,” Emma grumbles, but Doc did call her your highness before so maybe she wields that kind of power now. Killian’s lips tilt up. 

Finding something else to stare at should be number one on the list of things Emma needs to be doing. Desperately. 

“Aye, that usually requires your mother’s seal anyway.”

“My mom? Why would...isn’t Regina mayor of this town?”

Exhaling through his teeth is oddly attractive. “Not as such, no.” “Huh.” “That’s about the right reaction. But to get back to your original question—” Emma sticks her tongue out, Killian’s laugh soaring out of him. Directly into her. It feels that way, at least. Warmth blooms between her ribs, another pulse of magic she resolutely ignores in favor of watching his shoulders shake and his eyes crinkle and it would be very easy. All of it. Is, currently. If she’s being honest with herself.  

That’s a problem.  

“You’re a picture of maturity,” Killian murmurs. 

“Well, depending on who you ask, I either got tugged through time, or I’m being tormented in my dreams and—what?” His eyes have gone very thin. “Tormented, is it?” “That was a shitty choice of words.” Humming, Killian’s eyes move anywhere but Emma’s face, and the regret in her gut is like a black hole and dying star and several other space-based puns she does not understand at all. All she knows is what a mess this is becoming, and she’s been a mess for as long as she can remember so that’s all the excuse she needs, hands moving on a mix of want and instinct that she’ll let herself over analyze later. 

He doesn’t flinch. 

For another moment, it feels like he’s going to do something drastic. Parting his lips, Emma hears his exhale, the quick flick of his tongue making her toes curl and her fingers tighten, and she wants to run. That’s her schtick. She can’t. She’s rooted to the spot and this carpet, and there’s nowhere to go really. 

Getting back to Neverland already seems impossible. 

“He’s very happy here,” Killian says, and it takes her a second to realize they’re talking about a giant again. “Has been for years. Grows all sorts of stuff, and you didn’t see the Christmas tree your parents have, but it’s ridiculously massive. Apparently there’s some sort of giant-type gene that helps with that.”

“Well, yeah of course.”

Whatever sound he makes isn’t the laugh Emma selfishly wants it to be, but the air that finds her cheek is warm and his left arm isn’t behind his back anymore. “You can take the bed.”

“What?” “We do have a bed, love.” “Yeah, but—” “—Very gallant of me, I know,” Killian quips, stepping away from Emma and the moment and she can’t believe the moment included talk of a giant growing Christmas trees. Somehow that’s almost comforting. “But it’ll be fine, and well if you’re going to talk to Regina tomorrow—” “—You think I should talk to Regina?” “Don’t you?” Nodding hurts. Standing hurts. The whole thing’s ridiculously melodramatic. “Probably,” Emma admits. “Um, but...maybe on my own?”

She’ll never admit to wanting an objection — this isn’t her life, or her Killian, but it also feels wrong to claim any Killian, and this constant flipping between emotions is going to snap her skull in half. “Whatever you think is best,” he says. “Two doors down on the left.”

“Ok, thanks.”

Nodding again, Killian gives her a barely-there smile before moving back towards the stairs he only sort of rushes down. That one step creaks again. 

Sleeping doesn’t happen. 

Emma didn’t think it would, but it’s disappointing and frustrating all the same. Her muscles ache, practically begging her for unconsciousness, but every time she closes her eyes all she can see is Killian’s face and the space between them and she’s got to get back to Neverland. 

Soon. 

Emma’s got to fix this. 

No one’s at Regina’s house. 

Waiting until everyone left her own house is something of a massive copout, and using that particular possessive makes Emma feel like a liar, but she couldn't bring herself to get off the bed until the front door slammed shut and she wasted quite a lot of time sitting on the mattress. 

Also very comfortable, despite the distinct lack of sleep it witnessed. 

So, it shouldn’t come as much of a surprise when no one answers Emma’s rather pointed knocks. Or the few kicks she levels at Regina’s front door, just to be sure. All that does is make the wreath hanging out front wobble precariously. “God, fucking—” Snowflakes land on Emma’s face when she tilts her head up, as if the gods she’s challenging are responding. She’s still a little caught on the polytheistic. “Alright, alright, where would she go?”

“Emma?” Spinning, she doesn’t wobble at all — a testament to Regina’s salting regiment for her front steps, and the blonde twenty-something with impressively thick glasses who called her name far too easily grins far too quickly. “What are you doing out here?”

There’s no hint of confusion to her question. At least not in regards to who Emma is. She’s obviously surprised to find her standing there, though, and nothing about her is familiar. 

“I’m looking for Regina. Do you know where she might be?”

“Yeah, of course. She went into the office early this morning, said she had to deal with the knights situation and magic acting up and—” “—Magic is acting up?”

“Didn’t Uncle David tell you?”

“No,” Emma shakes her head, already moving because there are only so many offices in this town and it’s got to be the same one. It isn’t until she makes it back to Main Street that her mind catches up with titles, but then the woman is jogging up the stairs of town hall and swinging open doors and Emma’s jaw drops. 

At the “Regina Mills, Queen of the Combined Realms” etched in glass in front of her. 

“You coming?” this nameless person asks, jerking her head towards the office and at least the wallpaper is the same. Emma gives a jerky nod, willing herself to step forward, but it’s shaky going at best and Regina is on the phone. 

The buzzing in her ears makes it difficult to hear the conversation, but Emma picks up the gist. Magic, and knights and the sound of her dad’s vaguely frantic tone, while Regina sighs at regular intervals, rolling her eyes occasionally as well. 

“Aunt Gina,” the woman hisses, slumping into the closest chair. Sliding a small handful of bills across her desk, Regina widens her eyes meaningfully, not bothering to cover the receiver before she mutters—

“Only what was on the list, ok? Henry’s stuff is already taken care of, don’t let Doc try and swindle you.”

She gives a crisp salute, Emma’s mind practically tripping over itself because that’s like a slap to her entire being and the sanity she’s only just clinging to at this point. “I’ll sic Killian on him, if he even tries,” she promises, leaning across the desk to kiss Regina’s cheek before breezing out of the office with a quick “see you later, Emma.”

Emma doesn’t move. 

And Regina hangs up on David. 

“Well,” she says, somehow dragging the word out until it sounds like those royal decrees Killian was talking about, “here you are, then.” “Should practice your surprised face.”

Gasping as dramatically as possible, Regina widens her eyes and jerks back, making her chair squeak on its wheels. Her hand flies to her chest, and the necklace that hangs over her shirt. It looks a bit like an arrow. “How was that?” “My dad called you.” “Probably two seconds after you left the farm. So,” she props her chin on her palm, “time travel, is it? You fall in another portal?”

Blinking as quickly as she is makes it difficult for Emma to stumble into the chair only recently vacated by that girl, but she manages somehow. And doesn’t twist anything in the process. Victories, she’s claiming all of them. “How many time-altering portals are there?” “Only one that I’m aware of, but you also didn’t answer my question and I don’t think you can alter something that hasn’t happened for you yet.” “Because this is the future.”

“Frankly?” “You’re going to do it either way,” Emma grumbles, Regina’s sneer not quite as challenging as she expects it to be. 

“Nothing is ever set in stone, not really. Which is why you can appear here. We're...a possibility for you at this point. So, no—I’m not sure you can destroy yourself with knowing. With staying, for sure, but—” “—Wait, what?”

Regina’s fingers flutter against her cheek. “When did you come from?

“Not here.” “Obviously.”

Slumping further into the chair, Emma’s knees nearly slam into her chest. It’s definitely an arrow around Regina’s neck. “Neverland,” she says, “we’d just left the Echo Caves and you’d gone off with Gold somewhere.” “Rumor has it you met Ariel.” “Is that seriously who that was?” Regina nods. Emma exhales. Loudly. “Ok, ok, well—” Recounting the rest isn’t as hard as she expects it to be, details flowing out of Emma like some other water joke she’s not willing to make and Regina doesn’t interrupt. Occasionally her hand drifts back towards the necklace, but Emma chooses to ignore that as well and her mouth is only sort of dry by the time she’s done. 

And then Regina purses her lips. 

Which speaks volumes, without actually saying words. She says words too. “A giant plant. That crawled out of the ground and—” “—Ok, I never once said it was giant, just that it exploded out of the ground.” “It’s not much better.” “Killian can feel my magic here.” “Yuh huh.”

Lifting both her hands in what Emma can only hope is obvious frustration and soon-to-be-resolved confusion, Regina doesn’t look all that impressed. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Emma demands. “Is that a normal thing? I—as far as I know he can’t in Neverland.” “Well, normal is in the eye of the beholder, really, but have you ever actually asked the captain if he can feel your magic?” “Why would I—did you just call him captain? Are you and Killian friends now?” Clicking her tongue, Regina makes a noise that’s neither confirmation nor objection. “I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t—none of this is real.” “Ah, that’s actually a little rude.” “How did this happen, then?” Another noise. More guttural that time, and Emma hopes it hurts the inside of Regina’s throat. She’s feeling a little vindictive. No one’s explained the Unified Realms concept to her yet, that’s why. “I’ve got several working theories, some people who would know far more about Neverland’s vegetation and what its capable of than I would, and the deep-burning desire to know whether or not you told Killian about the plant.”

The gods are clearly feeling particularly charitable to Emma right now. All things considered, she feels like she deserves that. 

And she doesn’t fall out of the chair. 

“Do you think he remembers this? If I disappeared in Neverland, but he still married me here...God, that’s weird to say.” “Is it, though?’ Regina challenges, scrunching her nose like this is a conversation they can have.

“Why are you also being so goddamn weird?” “Time travels a funny thing. Lots of twists and turns, and potential pitfalls. And I’m not being weird, this is who I am now.” “Huh.” “Make it sound less like an insult next time,” Regina advises. “But I do think you’re right, you need to leave this part of the timeline. It’ll fall apart otherwise.” “You say so calmly.” “I’m almost very confident in your abilities.” “Almost,” Emma echoes, fully prepared for the snark-filled grin that gets her. Flames flicker between Regina’s fluttering fingers, not the first time that’s happened, but it usually only happens in times of particularly high stress and for as even-keeled as the so-called queen is acting, Emma knows at least part of it is a facade. “What happened with the knights? Also, shouldn’t knights from Camelot be under Arthur’s rule?” “That’s a whole other story. One your husband could recount much better than me.” “He’s not my husband.” “Not yet, I suppose.” Grimacing makes it harder to pull a breath in, but Emma’s butterflies make a triumphant return and the coffee maker was still on when she got downstairs. That might not be the coincidence she wants it to be. “The knights,” Emma demands, “what’s their deal?” “Nefarious, it seems. Which isn’t usually how they operate, and is wholly against the law.” “Of your kingdom?” Maybe Regina and Killian are friends. She’s much better at arching her eyebrow now. “Something like that. Anyway, the knights are here, without the proper paperwork, because they claim magic has been acting strangely in Camelot. And they’ve tracked it to our forest. What that magic is doing that’s so strange appears to be some sort of state secret, but Snow’s got a bird on it, so maybe we’ll find out eventually.” “That keeps happening.” “The fleeting nature of a bird’s attention span?”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Is she not Mary Margaret, anymore?”

The flames disappear, Regina sitting up a little straighter like they’ve finally delved into the serious part of this conversation, and whatever’s churning in Emma’s gut is a bit like regret. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” “How am I thinking about it, then?” “As someone who still hasn’t found Henry in Neverland yet.” “Sounds like we do.” “Not something you ever should have doubted.” “I don’t,” Emma says, only kind of a lie because she still can’t really shake her worry and her fear has always been such a strong part of her; the concept of letting that go is as terrifying as anything else. The coffee had been good that morning. “Why this spot? I mean—if I was going to get tugged to any point in my timeline, Christmas in Storybrooke seems a little out of left field, don’t you think?”

Regina considers that for a moment, drumming her still-flameless fingers on her vaguely imposing desk. “Honestly? Seems like a test.” “Of what?” “You, obviously.” “Speaking English, Your Highness.” “Majesty,” Regina corrects, sliding away from the desk so she can stand up and rest her palms on it and Emma’s eyes nearly roll into the back of her head. “And you’re being obtuse on purpose. I understand, but it’s—well, it’s only going to get more annoying, for both of us. The point is, games were part of Neverland. Tricks and sleight of hand, making you believe something that wasn’t there because that belief fueled the place. Belief’s even stronger for you, Emma. Because of what you are, and what you’ve done. Or will do, I guess.” “No pressure.” “Some, but—you’re distracting me. That’s still an unconfirmed theory.” “What is the point, then?” “The point,” Regina repeats archly, “is that pulling you out of Neverland, away from a place that made you feel like the Lost Girl you believe you are, turns this into something of a Utopia. Home, and safety. When’s the last time you celebrated Christmas?” “Never?” “See, everything you’ve ever wanted all tied up and—” “—I don’t want to be married to Hook.”

Disbelief colors every inch of Regina’s face, the sound of her laugh far more evil than she’s been all morning. “You’re an awful liar, Emma Swan. No matter what you do, and all you’ve ever been able to do is make eyes at the pirate.” “I don’t make eyes.” “Don’t worry, he does too. Even now, which is romantic if you like that sort of thing.” “The point, Regina.”

She grins. “You’re being offered a choice. Here, or there. Past or possible future. It’s a dangerous option, Emma, and one you can’t give into, no matter how much you might want.”

Finding her dad is far easier than Regina. 

Emma’s feet drift down the path towards the farm, boots squelching in the snow, but none of the moisture gets to her socks and the screen door opens before she can think about knocking. 

“Would have been offended if you had,” David says, pulling her against his chest and answering a question she didn’t have a chance to ask. It’s the hand that does it though. Cupping the back of Emma’s head, there’s something inherently safe about the whole thing, her cheek scrunched and her eyes stinging with more unshed tears and the first whimper she lets out is so goddamn depressing she can’t believe it came from her. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” David chants. Over and over, pressing the promise into her hair and her temple, the bridge of her nose once Emma finally lifts her head, and the slight jut of her chin because she’s nothing if not consistently stubborn and falling apart feels like failure. 

“C’mon, we’re going to sit down,” David continues, already directing Emma back into the hallway. And through the hallway. Past more pictures, and this couch looks even more comfortable than the one she’d woken up on, and she’d been right about her mother’s taste in pillows. An excess of frill. 

“Was I that obvious that you had to immediately call Regina yesterday?" David shrugs, lifting his arm in unspoken invitation. Emma slings her legs over his when she moves, the flannel now under her cheek oddly comforting. As is the kiss she feels pressed to the crown of her head. “A little,” he chuckles, “but mostly it was Killian’s blatant freakout.” “He wasn’t freaking out. At least not here.” “He was. Not loudly, maybe. But obviously. And you looked at Hope like you’d never seen her. That also kind of freaked out your mom.” “How old is she?”

Emma doesn’t bother being anymore specific. She knows she doesn’t have to — not when her dad’s arm tightens around her shoulders, and she wishes she’d come here first, if only to help keep her balanced on the precarious edge of lingering sanity, and she’s got absolutely no idea where Killian went. She should ask about that too. “Four.” “Shit. That’s—shit.” Another chuckle and second kiss, and David has to shift slightly to make sure Emma’s elbow doesn’t impale his side. “Reasonable response, really. Anything else?” “About a million and two things,” Emma admits, with enough acid in her voice to do permanent damage to the atmosphere. Making science-jokes is apparently a coping device now. “Regina thinks it’s a test. Of whether or not I really will leave, when given some sort of idyllic future.” “Well you’re not a selfish asshole, so I’m sure you’ll do what you have to.” “Kinda blunt, Dad.”

It’s not the first time she’s used that word — but titles have been thrown around in enough conversations already, and Emma’s really very wobbly on her metaphorical cliff and she wants something. Solid and dependable and she refuses to acknowledge how Killian might be both. Is definitely both. 

In any version of this life. 

“Kinda,” David agrees, “but the knights showed up when you did, and I don’t know if that’s a coincidence. There have been reports coming into the station, too. Stuff feeling out of whack across the realms—” “—How many realms are there, exactly? Is Regina in charge of all of them?”

“There was something of an election.” “For a queen?” “We’re a very progressive united coalition.”

“And you’re what? Prince of that?” David makes a contrary noise, and it takes longer than Emma expects to detail the hierarchy of this realm, but she understands why her mom would need to make royal decrees now and why people keep bowing to her and— “So that makes Killian a prince,” Emma says, pleasantly surprised to realize she does not in fact die when her heart explodes. Or when she realizes that some parts of that bedtime story may actually be based in reality. 

She kind of wants to see him spin in the middle of a sword fight. 

“Tell him that,” David suggests. “I’m sure he’ll enjoy it.” “Makes me think he won’t.” “Sometimes people bow to him, just to see what he’ll do.” “Challenge them to a duel?” “Nah, that’d mean he has to get his sword and that’s a whole thing. Plus, he’s got stuff to do in the station and there’s a fair bit of sailing involved.” “He keeps his ship?” Emma asks, sharper than she intends because something’s fluttering at the back of her brain and it’s big and important and she’s got absolutely no idea why. “And did you just say station?” David hums. “Doesn’t like wearing the badge though. Which I think is an affront to the position of deputy, but—” She nearly hits his chin. Jerking her head up, Emma’s eyes widen quickly enough that they also water and her dad might be the asshole here because he doesn’t do anything except smile knowingly at her. “You’re happy here, Emma,” he says, “after everything. And there’s a lot of everything, but it ends eventually. Gets the happily ever after it deserves, that both of you deserve. Although he’s a merciless cheat in Monopoly, drives me nuts every Christmas.”

It’s not a laugh. Not really. Sagging forward, air flies out of Emma’s lungs and her very dry lips, and that second thing is because she keeps breathing out her mouth, and trying to piece together a puzzle she wasn’t all that interested in finishing before. Now it’s all she wants, desperate to see what the picture is, and it’s probably very pretty. 

A covered bridge, or an oceanscape or something. Thomas Kinkaid, maybe. And part of her hears the warning, knows all too well that she’s already failing the test, but the rest of her absolutely does not care. 

“Are you really here, or is that some kind of trick my mind came up with because you’re actually stuck in Neverland?” David kisses her nose. “Here. And for the time being, so are you. Which means you can sleep.”

“Mind reading isn't one of your talents, as far as I knew.” “I get better at it,” he promises, tugging an exceptionally soft blanket off the back of the couch and Emma doesn’t put up much of a fight before resting her head on his shoulder and promptly falling asleep. 

There are lights on in half a dozen windows when David’s new — at least as far as Emma’s concerned — truck comes to a stop in front of her absolutely massive house, and she’s got to get out. Easier said than done, particularly with trembling fingers and obviously fluttering curtains in that one bay window, and it takes no less than four tries for her to undo her seatbelt,

“It’s going to be fine” David says again, “no matter what happens.” “Even with magic being weird?” “We’re not sure that’s entirely your fault.”

Scoffing, Emma tries very hard to believe that. No one’s updated them on the location of the bird. She kind of hates this bird. Possibly all birds, really. “Sure it’s not. So, what—I’m just supposed to go back into this stupidly large mansion and—” “—Wouldn’t all mansions be large?” David interrupts. “By default?” “Did we rob a bank to pay for this?” “You’d have to ask Killian, but I don’t think so.” “He says I call him babe.”

Wincing, Emma belatedly realizes this is probably not a conversation she should be having with her father, but she hasn’t really seen her mother and she wants to talk about it to Regina even less, and she obviously can’t bring it up to Killian when she’s avoiding him so much and—

A door slams. Footsteps rush towards them, voices on the breeze and the snowflakes that have kept falling all day because it’s New England and as far as Emma knows it’s required to snow in New England on Christmas. Or in the days leading up. 

David nods towards the door she should have opened five minutes ago. 

And it takes her about one sharp inhale, two eyes that very nearly fall out of her head, and that maternal-type adrenaline she’s starting to get used to, for Emma to tumble out of the truck, sprint the few feet between them and practically launch herself into Henry’s waiting arms. Arms that are much more adult than she’s familiar with. 

Although that does also make it easier for him to tighten them around Emma’s middle, and she supposes time-traveling beggars cannot be choosers. “Hey,” Henry breathes, mostly into her hair. Wind whips around them, only kind of unnatural and a little magical and the door opens again. Emma doesn’t look up. Seeing Killian standing there, with his feet crossed at the ankles, she’s sure, will only drive her closer to a line she’s not all that willing to cross. Yet. Or ever. 

No, definitely ever. 

Everyone calling him Killian is nice. Exceptionally, so. 

“Killian said it was bad, but…” Trailing off, Henry pulls back and Emma’s crying again. Like a total, entirely incompetent ass. She’s got so many questions still. Her arms tighten, a fresh round of terror rattling around her soul, or some other ridiculous sentiment, and Henry doesn’t argue. He kisses the top of her hair too. 

He’s much taller than her now. 

“Did Killian talk to you?”

“Mom,” Henry sighs, “c’mon—even when I was a kid, that shouldn’t have surprised you.” It doesn’t, not really. But there’s a grown man in her arms, and snow flying around them, and Henry’s barked “not now, Lu” causes another kid to scamper back up the porch. Towards Killian and his ridiculous grey-streaked hair, and he picks her up without looking away from Emma. 

He’s looking at Emma. 

Still, or always, or whatever. 

“Don’t ask what kind of favors he had to pull in to get us here,” Henry adds, “but he said you’d need it, and it might help and Ella definitely wanted to leave, even if she won’t admit to it, so—”

“Stop telling lies, Henry Mills,” another voice calls from behind Killian, and Emma’s going to pass out. For a variety of reasons, least of all her lack of caloric intake today. 

Henry clicks his tongue. A family trait, apparently. “It’s not a lie, she didn’t even really want to go, but Lu gets a ridiculous present haul, so we had to and—” Several puzzle pieces fly into place. Helped along by Lu’s rather loud screech of “papa” directly into Killian’s ear, and Emma is glad she hasn’t eaten. Throwing up on Henry’s shoes is not the festive reunion it should be. “I’m really here,” Henry adds, reading Emma’s mind. Or her face. “No matter what you think might have happened in Neverland, it didn’t. I’m here, and you’re here and Killian made food, so you should probably eat.” She’d been right about the puzzle, it is a pretty picture. One that doesn’t belong to her, entirely. But pretty all the same. Desirable, maybe. 

That’s a dangerous line of thinking. 

“Hook can cook? Ignore that rhyme, please.” Henry grins, marching them back towards the house as David yells something about getting Snow from school and then there are smells and kids and that goddamn Christmas tree. And it takes Emma a few moments she thinks she deserves to realize—

“How did Henry know I’d come from Neverland?” she asks Killian, standing in the middle of the kitchen. He’s stirring something. She’ll think about that for at least two hours. 

“I told him.” “How did you know?” Leveling her with an incredulous stare, Emma once again fails at the whole no blushing thing, and they own a stand mixer. Only adults own stand mixers. “How many times should I request you give me more credit before that also becomes redundant?” “This is probably good enough.” “Generous of you, and it wasn’t very hard. Although I am still trying to pinpoint when it was, exactly. Quite a lot happened in Neverland.” “Looking awfully smug about that.” He shakes his head, offering her the spoon and there’s sauce there. Delicious sauce. This must happen a lot. “Hard to do that when you can’t look at me straight on, but—” “—Echo Caves,” Emma says, rushing to interrupt him. Killian’s eyebrows jump. 

“Huh.” “Regina doesn’t think telling me things will affect anything.” “Huh.” “Nothing to add to that?” Silence. More relative, at least. The TV is on, and a pillow fort is apparently being engineered in the living room, and everyone was very quick to leave the pair of them alone. With the sauce. “Thank you, though.”

“For?” “Getting Henry here, whatever favors you had to call in. I—well, Dad told me some of the stuff, and it’s...nice.” His lips disappear when he presses them together. Emma’s still staring, it seems. “Part of the deal, I think.” “Of?” “You really want me to answer that?” “Probably not,” Emma exhales, “but—still. It’s nice, and I...well, I appreciate it.”

“That’s not something you have to thank me for, love. Now, c’mon, I know you haven’t eaten and there are some ravenous kids out there who will mutiny if we don’t get them spaghetti soon.”

Emma nods, not able to say anything else because nice is suddenly a vast understatement, and she eats a second bowl of mostly sauce, and she never really knows how she gets back into bed, only that she fell asleep under the pillow fort with Killian’s shoulder close to hers. 

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

I hope I can send this in. It’s an idea of something you could write one day .. like a blurb or something. idek. Bleh.

BUT I DIGRESS -

Flip and you are at a cabin in the woods. Y’all have traveled a great length and your cabin is lakeside. You two have plenty of pent up ‘energy’ so you put on your swimsuits and head out to the water. Eventually y’all are a tangled mess of limbs and you can’t tell who’s who, by the sounds you’re making, a nun would blush.

🖤

A/N: @preshprinceofstarkiller I really hope you enjoy this one! I poured as much smut as I could with a shit load of fluff wrapped around it because I love a sappy Flip/Reader dynamic!

Warnings: Married banter, lots of cuddles and kisses, FLUFF out the asshole, public sex, outdoor sex, public nudity, hair pulling, dirty talk, creampies, just all kinds of SMUT 

The sweet smell of a morning cup of brew, pine trees, and the crisp September air filled your senses as you sat on the wooden lawn chair on the deck of your lakefront cabin. Wrapped up in a wool blanket, in your favorite sweater, admiring the sounds of the lake crashing up on the beachfront, and the nature rustling about in the morning sun. It was perfect. The best idea you and Flip had decided to make in several months. 

He, being so burnt out on work, as usual with his large caseloads, wanted to get away for a few days. The two packs of smokes a day indicating he had just had it up to his forehead with Ron, Trapp, and Bridges reaching down his throat for answers. Flip had always been a naturally grouchy person, it was just something you’d gotten used to. But when he would get to point of being angry with you over idiotic matters, like for instance, the dishes not being rinsed out properly, then you knew it was just about time to head out of town. 

“Good morning, sunshine,” his sleep ridden voice ground out as he approached with his cup of coffee in a sweatshirt, and sweatpants that left nothing to the imagination. 

“Good morning to you too honey,” you craned your neck as he lowered his warm face to your lips, pecking it with the slightest effort. 

“Did you sleep, okay mountain man?” you asked as he cozied up to you, wrapping his body around yours in the straining chair. 

“Honestly, I slept better last night than I have in months,” he chuckled out into the air as you stroked the bedhead he’d given himself. 

“I know. I heard you snoring all night,” you giggled lowering to kiss his crown, “sounded like there was a bear in our bed all night.” 

“Psh,” he smirked burying himself more into your clothed body, “it wasn’t as loud as you howling my fuckin’ name last night I bet.” 

“Excuse me?” you tried to pry his large head up to get him to say that phrase again to your face, ultimately failing in the process as he gripped your waist even tighter at the sensation of your straining. 

“I didn’t say shit, sweetheart,” he murmured back into the mess of sweatshirts and blankets, “only that I love you, so much!” 

“Uh-huh… That’s what I fuckin’ thought,” you returned to grab your cup, taking a sip as you chuckled over his comments. 

“I love you too sweetie. I’m so glad we’re up here,” moving his curls to expose his ear, playing with the soft lobe. 

“Same here. I fuckin’ needed this,” nuzzling his face into you more and more, “I need something else though.” 

“And what is that my poor baby?” you asked in a pandering way to mimic his childlike form in front of you. 

He muttered something incoherent into the blankets, “honey, I can’t hear you,” leaning down to wrap your soft lips on his ear. 

“I said, I want to go skinny dipping… with you,” he looked up hair in all sorts of places, his sleepy face blinking the light back into his adjusting pupils. 

You giggled at the sight of him all discombobulated, “oh babe… I would hope you’d only want to do something like that with just me!” 

Grabbing his rosied cheeks, bringing him into another series of kisses, starting from pecking to a little more romantic, “of course it would be you, honey, who the fuck else would do it?” 

He smirked into your lips, “I don’t know, maybe a mistress of yours or somethin’,” egging on his sarcasm, “your mom did tell me at our wedding mind you, that you were hard to pin down.” 

He lifted himself off of you, “no she fuckin’ didn’t,” he looked shocked at the admission you made. 

“She honestly did,” you sipped back at your coffee, “but she countered it with the notion that she had never seen you as happy as you were with me,” so you can’t be mad at her. 

“Well I kinda am now,” he huffed, “I can’t believe she’d say that on our wedding day… holy shit mom. I’m gonna give her a good talkin’ to when we get home.” 

“No, you aren’t, grouch,” you asserted, “she didn’t mean anything by it. Now let’s go skinny dipping before I die of old age,” you punched his arm, “plus I wanna see that ass in the sunlight.” 

He smirked at your comment, getting up with a groan and helping you from your seat. As you started to walk in front of him he slapped your ass with all the force he had built up in him, “Jesus fuck Phil!” 

You turned around, “now I’m gonna have a handprint there!” you rubbed the sore cheek, wincing as your hand rubbed the area. 

“That’s the point babe,” I wanted to look at my ass with my handprint on it while I fuck ya on the beachside.” 

You blushed at the notion, hurrying in the house to remove any piece of clothing the both of you had been wearing. After your nakedness was revealed, you grasped your tits in your arm, “race ya down there, detective,” bolting in the direction of the back door, revealing your natural form to the sun and all of nature’s creatures as you bounded down the hill towards the beach.  

Little did you know, Flip was gaining on you in bounds, coming up behind your bouncing ass and scooping you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. 

“Oh my god honey!” you screamed, holding onto his back for dear life, “you’re gonna break something!” 

“Shut the fuck up!” he yelled back, “you know you’re lighter than air to me honey!” 

You groaned as he lowered you onto the warm beachfront, the sound of waves brushing the pebbles like a song. You both took an inventory of the sight around you, breathing in the mountain air, admiring every sound emanating from the scenery. 

Flip came up behind you, wrapping his large arms around you as you both rocked side to side with the ebbing and flowing of the waves. He kissed the top of your head, trailing down to your ear, whispering sweet nothings as his lips gnawed at the sensitive skin. Moving his hands to grasp onto your open tits, massaging the pillows with his large paws, eliciting a moan from your lips. 

“God I love you, Y/N,” he whispered moving down your neck, sucking little marks along the way as you found a hand in his thick hair, gripping it slightly at the pressure he applied to your neck. 

“I-I love you too, Phil,” you gasped out, feeling his hardening erection on your ass. Your hand snaked around to grip his dick, pumping it so you felt every angry vein bulging from it. Gathering the precum building up around his weeping head, rubbing it into the warm skin.  

Just then, he replaced your hand with his as he lined up with your wetness that had built up. Sliding his pulsing cock into your weeping entrance, “F-fuck honey,” he groaned out, “open up for me.” 

You bent forward, allowing his cock to penetrate you deeper and deeper. Your walls vibrating around him as he came closer to your cervix, “you are so fuckin’ tight, babe,” he thrust in hard, balls slapping, “no matter how many times I fuck this little cunt.” 

He moved a hand on your hip and wrapped another in your hair, pulling until your back was arched in the most magical way, “Ohm-my god honey,” you wailed, “t-that feels…” 

“Uhmm… feels good huh,” he thrust in a little faster, tightening the hold on your hip and hair. 

“God you look so fuckin’ beautiful right now,” his gyrations in full force as the sounds of slaps penetrated the mountainside. 

“So. Fuckin’. Perfect,” he pronounced as he reveled in your screams and cries for release. The more he pulled your gorgeous locks, the more your walls fluttered around him. 

“Phil,” you bawled out, “c-can I p-please c-cum.” 

“You wanna cum honey?” he growled out, keeping his pace steady and unwavering as he rearranged your guts in the best way he possibly could.

“Y-yes, please baby!” you relented writhing under his powerful strokes. He moved his hand from your hip to your aching clit, rubbing small, but fast circles, bringing you to the edge of an ear-shattering orgasm. 

“Mother f-fucker,” you groaned out, releasing your pent up frustrations into the wind, your cunt milking his cock the hardest it possibly could. 

“That’s it, honey, cum all over it,” he kept his thrusting up, becoming more erratic the more your walls clenched down on him. 

“Fuck honey,” he stammered out through his clenched teeth, pumping his cock a few more times into your vibrating hole, then releasing his hot sticky spend onto your walls, coating them in a donut glaze. 

“Jesus fuckin’,” he gasped out, pulsing the last of his spend as he pulled his softening erection from your pussy, watching the mixture pour out of your gaping hole. 

He ran his hands down the expanse of your back, rubbing your ass cheeks in a massage of sorts, watching and listening to the wetness seeping from your cunt, admiring the sight more than the nature surrounding the both of you. 

“Fuck you take my cum so well, honey,” he scooped the remainder dripping out to stuff it back in your overstimulated wetness. 

“Only for you baby,” you panted, lifting your back upright once again, and turning to your sweat sheened husband, to place your hands on his chest and look up at him in total bliss. 

“I love you, Phil,” you stroked him, leaning into a kiss. 

“I love you most,” he whispered out, “but can we please go swimming now? I’m so fuckin’ hot,” he laughed as you nodded up towards him. Taking your hand he led you into the cold embrace of the lake before you. 

The remainder of those few hours were spent swimming and fooling around like the both of you were in high school. Scaring each other in the water, him putting you on his shoulders, racing around the bay, and floating to admire the skyline that Tahoe provided for you. 

It was definitely a vacation much needed and well deserved. 

 _____________

GOD I LOVED READING THIS OVER AND OVER AGAIN... I THINK I COULD DO ANOTHER PART FOR SURE... MAYBE 👀

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

[jungcity]

love, eternal. | vii

genre: reincarnation!au, fallen angel!au

[supernatural!au-ish, angst, use of blunts and intoxicants, extra asshole jaehyun, smut, vulgar words]

pairing: jung jaehyun x reader

words: 4k

note: i was really excited for chapter vii, so i wasted no time and didn’t stop writing it since yesterday. shorter update, sorry :,( tell me your thoughts about this chap!! i badly wanted to know :,(

ps.: i do hope this story doesn’t bore you, though. :,( and thank you!! thank you always for the kind words <333

“He was raised from the ashes of hell

and set on the path of destruction.

He was a paradox, a riddle,

a black sheep in the herd of Christ.

He was not evil, and he was not good.

He simply was.”

The fête never seems to have an end. The fairies continued to dance, to sing and praise their Queen— with you sitting on the ground near their bonfire. You curled, hugging your knees while shivering. From the made-up dais sat the Queen, observing you as the fairies around dance and sing their hearts out. All appears to be a bad dream— you couldn’t even let yourself believe that you are currently in a world where human doesn’t seem to exist.

Your attempts to break the fairy circle have resulted in nothing. The fairies either pushed you away nor held each other’s arms to locked the space out. All while the Queen laughed at you as if you’re a joke. It’s been hours, yet they still haven’t stopped their merriment, their singing seems to get louder in each minute that passes. You heart is thudding abnormally against your chest for hours on end since you fell into their realm; anxiety suffocating every passage of air in your body.

What’s gonna happen to me now? That was all you could ask yourself. What power do you have to escape this realm? The tang of magic lingers in the air. It’s different from the magic you saw in children’s party when you were a kid. The magic you feel right now clings on your skin, almost nauseating. It feels foreign in your human body.

Yuta was nowhere to be found. You’ve convinced yourself that even him couldn’t help you now. He made that clear when he pushed you away. So he is a fairie. You mumbled as the fairie sang around you. Your knowledge about fairies is as close to nothing. You’ve seen Tinkerbell in Peter Pan. You know the tiny people called duendes. But that’s all your ken could reach— and the creatures around you were nothing close to the images you’ve created about the appearances of fairies.

Your tear ducts are heavy from the tears that’s trying to roll down your cheeks, but you won’t let yourself cry. You won’t let the fear conquer you. I will not falter. No matter how perplexing this all seems to you, there’s still hope at the corner of your heart. And you need to cling on to that hope; for yourself, for Yuqi, for Jaehyun.

Oh, Yuqi. The thought of your sister alone is enough to make you cry. A lone tear escaped your eyes as you imagine about all the terrible things that could happen to her. You can’t stay here. You needed to go home. So you stood up and harshly wiped your cheek, roaming your eyes around the creatures.

“Interesting,” The Queen mumbled, her hands resting on the arms of the dais. You ignored her and ran for the little space in the circle. But your head collided with something hard. You look up to see a head of a bull. It snorted at you, thorns proudly attached to its head. Your feet automatically moved backwards, away from the creature as it continued to snort the air towards you— looking unfriendly as it did so.

The Queen’s sultry laugh filled the air, “Bring the girl to the dungeons,” And she continued to laugh.

Hands seized your arms, rough palms, like a cement. Your scream filled the air, begging them to release you. “No! Let me go!” But the half-man, half-bull only sneered at you as they dragged you away from the fête and into nowhere.

“Let me go! Let me go!” You cried. “Get away from me!”

They threw you inside the dungeon. There wasn’t anything in it, only darkness. You swallowed the retch at the scent of something rotten. Wet twigs and leaves touched the sides of your feet through your open slippers. You could swear you heard some hissing behind you but pretended not to hear anything instead.

Your voice strained from too much shouting and begging, but none of them looked twice at you once they’ve locked you inside the God-forsaken place. You dared not move, for you fear about what you’d find out in the corners of this space. Your hope seems to blink out of your sight, it twinkles like a light running out of battery. The first sob was barely audible, but as the trepidation sink in your heart, you can’t help but to cry. The darkness overflowed with your weeps while you silently pray not to wake up any entity that might be lurking around you. Your feet even trembled from the hours that you’d refused to sit down.

A shadow stretched out in front of you, the creature holding some type of light. Then a woman emerged from the darkness. Pretty doesn’t come near as a definition of how beautiful she looks like; glitters covered the sides of her face, her long lashes fanning her cheeks. By her pointed ears you realized that she’s a fairie. You receded a step as she stood face to face with you.

“I would never harm you,” she says as a greeting. Holding the light in her one hand and a cup of something in the other, a hard bread balanced on top of it. “Here, I am sorry if that is all I could offer you.” She offered you the cup and the bread, but you were reluctant to accept the food even though you could feel your stomach rumbling. The girl then took a bite of the bread and a little sip from the cup, “It is safe to eat. I would never poison you.”

As you reached for the hard bread and cup, the girl introduced herself. “I am Sana.” You took a bite of the hard bread, but you couldn’t drink the contents of the cup, you couldn’t trust the odor of the liquid. “And you’re Y/N.” She added, smiling at you. When you attempted to lay down the cup on the mossy ground, Sana reached for it. “Everyone knows your name. Your presence in the Fairie kingdom is a spectacle,”

You didn’t know what to say, so you kept your mouth shut. Why is she so nice?

“Yuta often speak about you,” That made you look at her. Everything still confuses you but if Sana would offer you something to help you understand what’s happening, you’d gladly listen to her. “He lied to you. Everything about him, it is not the truth.” She breathed, as if it pains her to tell you what you need to know. “He never returned to the place he called Japan. He left because he was needed here… to marry someone,”

She didn’t explain Yuta’s pointed ears nor his shining aura. You’ve guessed Sana believed it doesn’t need explanation. It is what it is. Yuta is not a human. He is a fairie.

“He is our prince.” Then she looked around, like she heard something in the air that you didn’t. “And he is betrothed to me,” She said, staring at you with eyes that you could not fathom. Right then you have realized that her eyes are not the same color as the other; one is blue, and one is an unnerving gray.

“Betrothed? You mean… engaged? You are to marry him?” You asked, the new information discombobulating you even more. Yuta is engaged to someone, in a Fairie land. Your head hurt from trying to process all of it.

“Yes. But he does not want me… he wants you. That is why you are caged here, alone.” Sadness covered her irises that you fear for a moment whether she might lash out on you and cry, but she didn’t.

“What does that have to do with me? Why am I here?”

“The Queen promised him your hand in marriage if he would bring you here.”

“My what?!” A flummoxed gasp escaped your lips. What claim does the Queen has on you to promise Yuta that kind of agreement? Anger like you’ve never felt before flows in your veins as you try to comprehend Sana’s statement.

“Your hand… in marriage. If the Queen desires anything else in this world, it is power. That is why she is delighted to have you here, to act as a bait for the Fallen. And she does not fear the consequences of her actions, no matter what baba tells her,” Her voice toned down in every words, like she fears someone might hear them.

“Who is baba?”

“The old woman from the fête.”

So her name is baba. The thought of her black irises flashed in your mind— so sinister and mysterious, it gives you the creeps. Then you remember the words she told the Queen before she departed the fête.

“I recall her saying something about the wrath of the Fallen… what is it? I don’t understand,” Your own question sent you falling down into nothing again; into the same girl who’s struggling to find answers to every indecipherable thing happening in her life.

Sana looked bewildered as she answered your question, “You do not know the wrath of the Fallen? You are tied to him. And baba believes he is already on his way here, that is why some of the folks are fleeing away from the kingdom. They fear of what is about to come down once the Fallen arrived,”

The Fallen. You are tied to him. It’s incredible how a creature like Sana knew something about your life that you don’t. “I don’t know who the Fallen is…” You even feel embarrassed as you admitted it. Her words are a whirlwind of mysteries inside your head and you have no idea how to solve them. Your identity feels so far away from your grasp. Are you even you?

A loud sound echoed everywhere, like a loud gong. You stared at each other once you heard it. Sana collected something in the pockets of her silk clothes. “Here…” She grabbed your hand from behind the bars of branches and leaves and handed you a moonstone, “Baba wanted you to have this, so you would not be affected by the time here in Fairie anymore.” The little moonstone gleamed in your palms, but before you could thank Sana, she’s already ran away.

The portentous sound of the gong has gotten louder and louder in every minute, making your heart to jump in your chest as if you are standing between two large speakers. A familiar sound of snorting made you recoil and retreat backwards— your back crashing against something soppy. What on earth is that? You could hear your heart beating inside you as the half-human, half-bull appeared from the darkness. They need not to search for your frail body in the dark, one snatch and they had a grip of your arms already. Like the last time, they grip on you as if they wanted to dig their claws into your skin. You swallow the whimper bubbling up in your throat as they lead you into a corridor which looks more like a cave. What’s gonna happen now?, was your hopeless question to yourself.

You let them lead you to the end of the hallway, into the light. The throne room are full of courtiers, some of them has a resemblance to Sana. Some looked almost human if not for their pointed ears, unusual eye color, and glitters in their body. Some still looked like they were made out of a fantasy book. Yet the throne room was coaxed in silence, so unlike the fête the other what? Hours? Days? You have no idea how long has it been since you were trapped in their realm.

You squinted against the light, the source of it coming from above. As your sight adjusted, you saw Yuta standing beside the Queen’s throne, looking regal and divine. His jaw tightened at the sight of you; unkempt, dusty, and soppy.

His head automatically snapped in the direction of the Queen as he bared his teeth, and all fell silent as he spoke, “This is not what we agreed to Mother,”

Oh, yes. The Queen’s her mother, of course. Yet you still couldn’t grasp the reality of Yuta’s true nature.

The Queen, her mother, only brushed him off as if he is a mere fly. “Is it not, my dear prince?” She asked the words as she looked at you. “Look at her, she is angry.” Then she laughed.

Would it kill you to call her a bitch? But you decided to keep your mouth shut, even though your body wanted to lash out on her, claw at her ethereal face and curse her to death.

She clasped her hands together, “How do you find my kingdom, young lady?” When you didn’t answer, she looked at the creature beside you and gave it a nod. You never saw it coming, but the slap given to you by the creature seems to rock every cell in your being.

Yuta shouted, but the ringing in your ear muffled his angry cries. He took a step towards you, but was easily held back by the fairie guard beside her mother’s dais. “Let go!” He screamed but they didn’t listen.

You palmed your cheek and felt hot liquid from the corner of your mouth, you don’t need to see it to tell that it was blood. The Queen chuckled as you stared at her appalled. “Oh, this is truly beguiling.” She propped her chin on her palm as she stared at you with delight. “You need not pother yourself, young lady. I am no vicious. In sooth, I even prepared a small gift for you.” Her voice rakes down on your skin, causing the hairs on your back to prickle.

She chuckled, “Bring him.”

Everyone shifted in their position; some of the courtiers withdrew themselves to the shadows, fear and curiosity evident in their faces. From behind the doors of the throne room, someone dangerous is standing. The doors slowly opened, revealing rows and rows of fairie soldiers, all of them clad in armor as they lead a figure into the throne room.

Black hair, with pale white skin. You let out a strangled cry as you saw him walking towards the dais— towards you— with his hands bound together.

“Jaehyun?”

“Chérie.” He breathed upon seeing your current state. He held your stare and there was fury in his eyes.

“Delightful!”

Your head both turned to the Queen as she stood from her throne, laughing. “I have never witnessed such a dramatic entrance, Jung Jaehyun.”

The venom in her voice made Jaehyun even more mad, but he couldn’t bring himself to strangle the Queen by her neck— it is not yet time. The plan was laid out carefully; Jaehyun would become the bait while his comrades make their way inside the palace, to eliminate every one that might stood up in their way later. By the spectacle that was caused by Jaehyun’s captivity, he’s certain that all fairies would focus on him and him only.

As he stared at your state—disheveled and scared— all the plans they carefully made on the way here tried to slip on his memory— leaving only the wrath he’s contained to himself for the last hours of thinking about what’s happening to you.

Jaehyun made a step forward and as the Queen raised her right hand, all the spears held by the fairie soldiers were pointed at him in a blink.

“No!” You shouted, eyes widening from the scene. Jaehyun hissed, but he dared not move again. There was something in his face as he stared at the spears; realization.

The Queen made a disapproving sound, “Jaehyun, all the spears pointed at you were made out of angel blades. If I were you, I would never move an inch again.”

Jaehyun’s eyes glinted with rage. He clearly didn’t expect those words to come out of the Queen’s mouth. But you, you could feel your heart falling on your feet as they pointed their spears towards him with a single dagger aimed at his throat. He once again looked for your eyes in the chaos of the throne room and all the troubles and threats around you seemed to vanish.

He stared at you from across the room, with spears aimed at his heart and a dagger pointed at his throat. “I promise, I’ll take you home.” His throat bobbed in his every word, causing the dagger to slightly dig in his skin. A trickle of blood ran dow his neck, so lurid against his pale skin.

You nodded at him while your tears flows on your cheeks. No matter how dangerous the situation must be for the both of you, even though you have not the slightest idea of how are you going to escape and make your way back to the mortal lands, a flicker of hope still kindled in your chest as you stare at Jaehyun’s eyes— so full of courage and determination.

“Such chivalry, Jung Jaehyun. But I do need to know what a mere mortal like you could do in the lands of the Fae?” The Queen’s voice was laced with poison and honey, the virulence of it was enough to make you flinch.

Jaehyun’s jaw twitched. He knows the question was meant to insult him; he is not a mortal, he is a goddamned angel.

Jaehyun seethed with annoyance, “Don’t test me.”

“Shall I test the girl then?”

“Mother—!”

The Queen raised her hand again, stopping Yuta from talking. “Perhaps… whip her to pulp?” Her laugh was luscious, like she’s tasting the most delectable tart in her whole kingdom as she speaks. At the Queen’s words, a man with blue skin and thorns emerged from behind the dais, carrying a whip in his hand.

You swallowed a lump in your throat, your eyes frantic as you exchanged glance between the whip and Jaehyun. His face was unfathomable, but never in a million years you’d miss the wrath in his orbs, waiting to be unleashed.

“I would not entertain your games any further. Give her back to me and I promise to leave your empire as it is,” Jaehyun said, the cadence of his voice dangerous. Suddenly, he seemed to tower everyone in the throne room. The transcendence exuding from his aura made you shiver; he does not look human at all. You couldn’t understand why or how, but you feel the same fear the creatures in the throne room felt as they saw Jaehyun enter. And that fear appears to come back and is now gnawing at the atmosphere. Why is everyone so scared of him?

The Queen descended the dais and leaned closer to Jaehyun, murmurs of shock and horror filled the air as she did so. “This is not your world, Fallen. And I do not take promises from banished angels.”

Fallen. She called him Fallen.

The Fallen. You are tied to him. He is on his way here.

It hit you like a tidal wave. The Fallen is Jaehyun. And banished angel? You rack your mind to think of something, to think of the Bible— anything related to angels.

Lucifer. The most infamous fallen. How could it be possible?

You let out a gasp, causing the Queen to whirl on you again. “Oh, she has not the slightest knowledge of who you truly are?” asked she. “Fascinating,”

“For the sake of your own kingdom, put an end to this madness now.” Jaehyun snarled.

The Queen leaned closer, brushing her lips against Jaehyun. “Not until I have what I want.”

“What. Do. You. Want.” Jaehyun is on his edge, everybody feels that. You were still trying to process everything, Sana’s voice repeating in your mind. The Fallen. You are tied to him. Tied? In what way? You clutched your chest, wishing that the stabbing in your heart would stop.

“Power,” The Queen’s seducing façade wore off, replaced by the hunger you’ve never seen before. “The Horsemen.” She added.

Jaehyun smirked, pinning down the Queen with his eyes, “If you think that the Horsemen would kneel before you, you are mad. I would call them here, but they won’t be anyone else’s allies. They will bring the Apocalypse, not just here in Fairie, but in the whole world.”

Horsemen? The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Your mouth gaped just by thinking of it. The Horsemen are biblical creatures. The appearance of Lucifer would make them descend into the Earth and bring the apocalypse with them. Jaehyun is here— Lucifer is here. It couldn’t be. The world couldn’t end without you seeing your sister for the last time.

At your peripheral, shadows loomed. They moved in great speed that you believed they were just your imagination. But as you see Taeyong lurking behind the dais, where the light couldn’t touch him, you understood that Jaehyun didn’t come alone. Are they angels, too? You had the time to ask yourself before the guards standing in each pillar started to fall down without a sound. Then a dagger flew in a speed that even your eyes couldn’t catch up on. The dagger was buried in the neck of one of the fairie guards circulating Jaehyun.

Nobody seemed to notice it, but when the guard fell down with a thud, silence overruled the atmosphere. By his dripping blood on the throne room floors did the creature only allowed themselves to scream and run. Then the whole room was a chaos of shouting creatures, fairie guards flying to the side of the Queen and Yuta. The two half-human, half-bull surrounding you also flew to the side of the Queen, leaving you open and free.

You should run, but you were glued on your spot, searching the crowd for Jaehyun. Thunders erupted in the skies, the lightning sending eerily bright flashes in the throne room. You saw Jaehyun fight his way out of the circle of guards that is being disrupted by flying daggers now. Before an arm seized you away, the bright red of Jaehyun’s blood dripping from his cheek, just below his right eye filled your vision, causing a loud scream to erupt from your throat.

“Let me go!” You tried to seized your arm from the man’s grip. Then the man looked back at you. “Johnny?” You gasped. He smiled amidst the chaos of everything. You let him pull you away from the mayhem, trusting him with all your heart now.

“We need to help Jaehyun!” You shouted behind him. The thought of Jaehyun hurting and alone in the throne room made you sick to your stomach.

Johnny whirled on you, “You’ve got to trust him.”

“But—”

“He’d kill me if I don’t lead you to safety,”

You were huffing, your breath hitching. But Johnny does not seem to be tired of running into the hundred corridors in the palace. You ran and ran, a torch of light following you; fairie guards. Suddenly, your heart feels like it would crumble into dust from the agitation of being followed by creatures who would kill you without a thought. You dared look behind you, the guards appears to be near to you now. Johnny’s grip on you slackened, then you saw him jump the person in front of you.

“Sana?” You stared at her, bewildered. She was still standing while Johnny was halfway in tearing her throat open. You thank her for her agility and swiftness that help dodge Johnny’s attack.

“Y/N, we don’t have the time.” Johnny warned as he put himself behind you, protecting you from the guards.

“One minute, Johnny.” You pleaded. Since you cannot in good conscience leave the kingdom without thanking Sana.

“One minute.” Johnny repeated and you wasted no time to hold Sana’s hands with yours, squeezing her delicate palms.

“Thank you, for everything.” You tried to smile despite your fear. She looked at you and pressed a vial to your palms.

“Drink this,” She said, eyes blazing. “So you would have the swiftness of the likeness of the Fae.” She opened the vial between your hands herself. The liquid glowed like a silver water with glitters on it. Johnny was behind you, running a hand through his hair. He was too occupied looking out for the fairie guards.

“Are you sure this would help me?” You asked. Johnny muttered ‘one minute’ again. So you drank the vial, it was like liquor in your throat, burning and grazing. You looked at Sana and saw something on her face; satisfaction.

“I wish you all the happiness in the world, Y/N.” Then she dashed away from you again.

“Let’s go,” Johnny grabbed your arm, then dragged you away from the chaos of the Fairie lands. You ran for the forests, the fairie guards trailing behind you. With each step, you feel your heart falling.

“Ouch!” You cried as you fell on your knees, Johnny cursing ahead of you. A long gash of wound appeared on your knees, it was stark red in the moonlight. Johnny let out a groan, then he was Johnny no more— but a huge wolf.

“What—!” You tried to make sense of what’s happened to him, but he only let out a loud snarl. Even though it was hair prickling, and damned scary, you knew what he needed you to do. So you jump on his back, then he galloped away. Of course he was not someone, he was something.

You clutched on his fur as he dashed away from the palace. The copse of trees and grasses were a blur as Johnny leaped and bolted away to the heart of the forests. You feel as if you’re on a race car’s back, your hair frizzing by how hard the wind slaps on your face. Johnny jumped into what seems like a portal, he jumped and the image of the palace appears to be far away now. And as you leaped into the other side of the portal, it swirled; all the horrors of the Fairie vanishing like a water eddying.

You stood on your feet while clutching your chest. The feeling of being on Johnny’s back lingering on your skin. Your sweat clings, making your skin sticky. Johnny watched as the portal closed.

“What about Jaehyun? The others?” Your throat feels suddenly dry, the taste of the vial given to you by Sana still on your tongue. Johnny in his wolf state, only sniveled softly at you.  

There was a rustling of leaves. As you heard it, you shifted behind Johnny, the horror of what might be lurking in the shadows reliving the fear you felt in the dungeons. Then a man appeared.

“Taeyong?”

He was followed by nine more men. All of them familiar in your eyes. You saw them at Johnny’s party. But the man your eyes wanted to see was nowhere to be found.

“Where is Jaehyun?” You couldn’t move. There’s no way Jaehyun did not escape the kingdom. He is Lucifer. He could do anything.

“Chérie. I am here.”

You wasted no breath to trail the voice behind you. And there he was; raven hair in the moonlight, a small gash of dried blood resting on his cheek.

Two strides. It took him two strides to reach and cup your cheeks with his palms, pressing his soft lips to yours. You sobbed between the kiss, a tear trailing down your cheek. You’re safe, he’s safe. Both of you are alive. He broke away from the kiss, forehead resting on yours.

“You’re safe.” He whispered while wiping your tears away. Then he kissed your forehead. He enveloped you in a hug, it was so tight and you feel safer in his arms. You hugged him back, your face burying in his chest.

Then you felt it. Like a whiplash in your system. Your throat started to burn more savagely. It feels like you swallowed burning coals. Sweat beaded your forehead, your chest constricting from the sick feeling in your insides. You supposed Jaehyun felt your discomfort, for he looked at you with his brows knitted in concern.

“Are you alright?”

“Jae—” You didn’t finish his name as your body started to spasm, bubbles of white froth escaping your mouth. You heard Jaehyun screamed your name, but his voice was a disoriented rhythm in your ears as your body continued to convulse.

Sana’s incessant voice filled your mind. I would never poison you.

But you guessed she did.

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

FIVE MORE DAYS

There are three things you need to do in the next few days.

I. If you haven’t voted yet, you need to do that.

If you still have your absentee ballot lying around somewhere, you need to bring it to a drop box or your local elections offices. If you try to mail it in, the regime’s capture of the Supreme Court and sabotage of the postal service may succeed in stealing your vote. Don’t let them.

If you didn’t request an absentee ballot, that’s totally fine, but you need to make your plan to vote now. If your state has early voting, you need to go TODAY.

Absolutely no bullshit games about “oh I’m in a safe state, I can not vote/vote third party/write in my dog.” Do not let anyone get away with saying that shit in your presence. First of all, no state is safe until it’s certified. Second of all, the margin of the popular vote is REALLY IMPORTANT. Any crap these mobsters might be tempted to pull is going to be more difficult and less appealing if there’s a five point Biden win than a one point win, harder and less worth their while still if there’s a nine or ten point blowout. That’s true in any particular state and it’s true nationally. If they think they’re going to contest or throw out votes, AND THEY DO, then we need to have more votes in the bank than they have time to steal.

II. You need to keep your head.

Their plan is to overwhelm everyone with their bullshit. It probably would’ve been smarter not to spend four years teaching us how to tune them out; lucky for us, they’re brainless jackasses.

Their big confusion play seems to be scaremongering if we don’t have a winner called, like, during prime time on Tuesday night. Ignore them. If it takes a few days, it takes a few days. That’s part of making sure the votes get counted. Even recounts and lawsuits in the days and weeks afterward are part of a sensible process. Don’t let these goobers overwhelm you with their shitty Trump fanfiction.

III. You need to prepare yourself for Wednesday, November 4.

I don’t mean emotionally. I mean that you should expect you will need to take some kind of direct action the day after all the votes are cast. Keep an eye on Protect the Results for events near you. If it’s available in your state, download the ACLU mobile justice app and get familiar with it now; if not, at least get the number of your state or local ACLU into your phone. Pack a little knapsack now:

hand sanitizer and a spare mask;

a tiny bottle of whatever OTC pain medication you use, plus a dose or two of any prescriptions you need;

a bottle of water and some snacks you can eat while you’re out;

an extra flannel or sweatshirt;

a photo ID and some bail money might not be the worst idea in the world.

In my opinion – AND THIS IS JUST MY READ ON THE SITUATION, WHICH CAN CHANGE ANY MINUTE – I still think the most likely scenario for next week is pretty similar to the midterms, where Trump goes to bed that night thinking the margins are close enough that he can wriggle his way out of a real loss, but the magnitude of a Democratic landslide gets clear pretty quickly. He doesn’t have the guts for a real fight, and he doesn’t have the psychological ability to absorb a narcissistic injury fast enough to take action. He’s spent years alienating the top brass of the military. He’s spent weeks trying to give his Secret Service detail the ‘rona. (Seriously, what successful coup has included “try but fail to kill a bunch of your armed bodyguards”? I’m genuinely curious.) But that’s the most likely scenario out of a lot of scenarios. It’s not over until it’s over.

People are anxious. They’re disoriented after 2016, when everyone knew Democrats would win a free and fair election but too few people realized that wasn’t what we were having. And they’re discombobulated now, because most Americans don’t have practice waiting for an election that they already know will be unfair. Chances are pretty good that at least a few of these people are in your social media feeds. So you might see a lot of doomporn loser talk about how it’s all rigged and he’s never going to leave anyway and blah blah blah.

Those aren’t misplaced concerns. But there’s a way to talk about them in a way that’s a lot more constructive, and it’s this:

Trump cannot win legitimately. That’s not me reading tea leaves or interpreting polls or whatever. He cut himself off from that possibility with his solicitation of foreign interference, his extortion of foreign leaders and American governors for his own political benefit, his willful destruction of the infrastructure we need in order to have an election, and his incitement of terrorism against journalists, opponents, and voters. He did not want to win an election with any democratic legitimacy and so he won’t.

That doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll win. But I like our chances. Even knowing about so much of his cheating, and being aware that there’s almost certainly more cheating we don’t know about yet, I like our chances.

So let’s do it. Get that ballot in. Use whatever platform you have to remind other people to do the same. Make calls if you can. It’s not too late to chip in to your state party or the DSCC – they’re probably done buying ads, but we should assume they’re going to need money for recounts and lawsuits.

This is it. Crunch time. We can do this. Let’s go.

[cosmcther]

     I’ve been wanted to make a post on the Domes of the Comet Observatory. There are a few things that I have different than the source material in my head, so writing them down sounds like a good idea. Big long post under the cut.

     General stuff. There are six in total: The Terrace, the Fountain, the Kitchen, the Bedroom, the Engine Room, and the Garden. The Domes themselves are bigger on the inside, think the Tar.dis from Do.ct.or W.ho. Just about all of them are little pocket universes that Rosalina expanded on once her powers developed further. Prior to that, they were regular rooms that the Lumas and she built. Once she gained the power to do so, pocket universes were placed inside the rooms to give them more space. That’s why the Beacon is needed to open the doors up. Each entrance is the so-called portals to the private dimension.

     The Terrace: This Dome is used as a typical observatory room that you would find in the real world. The walls are lined with star maps, celestial clocks are scattered about, and orreries are hung up near them, many on shelves and on tables near the corners. They show the motions of countless planets and the relationship they share, making sure that if any planet out there goes off-course, a reference can be made as to how it should look. The ceiling is made of glass, and the room seems to always be at night, moonlight and shimmering stars shining through the skylight. Near the center, a high-powered telescope can be used to view stars. The sound of this room is also quite pleasant, what with the constant quiet ticking and shifting of the orreries.

     The Fountain: Meditation is the main use of this Dome. Sometimes, Rosalina can get overwhelmed and will need a moment to reconnect herself with the world around her. It’s a problem she faces rather often, a session of meditation will be what she needs to recenter. The room’s water is cool to the touch, trickling noises from the slow-moving water filling the walls. Other peaceful nature sounds can be heard, like unseen birds or crickets. It helps Rosalina to swish a foot through the water and feel the slight chill of it, or perhaps listening to the sounds around her processing what noises are being made by what creature.

     The Kitchen: This one is more simple, as the name is pretty self-explanatory. It’s the kitchen for the Comet Observatory. It’s where Star Bits are kept and other food items are stored. Your general cooking appliances are inside, just... pardon the high countertops, please. They’re suited for Rosalina in specific and she is far from a regular height.

     The Bedroom: Another simple one. Rosalina’s bedroom isn’t anything farfetched or out of the ordinary. Just regal, much as the majority of things associated with her. It’s a four-post bed with a canopy and curtains, velvet sheets, comfortable pillows. A standard bedroom, as stated before. 

     The Engine Room: At first glance, the engine room doesn’t seem like anything even close to its namesake. It’s a simple circular room with a metal grating framing the hard steel center. For it’s under the hood that the true engine room earns its name. Truthfully, this is the only dome that lacks the magical pocket dimension effect the rest own. This dome is build into the Comet Observatory’s center spire, allowing it downward access into the entirety of the Comet Observatory. 

The floor inside this dome serves as an elevator that can take you to several levels of machinery that keeps the Observatory running. Inside is an admittedly quite hot and stuffy collection of gears, pipes, metal, and other mechanical guts as far as the eye can see. One would need a map the size of Pluto to maneuver through here. That’s why it’s mainly Rosalina, Polari, and a select number of adult Lumas that go down there for maintenance purposes.

     The Garden: The final dome, and certainly the largest in presentation. Inside this dome is a large and lively garden furnished with tranquil ponds and streams, rock gardens with bushes smattered with berries of all sorts. Most of which aren’t from Earth. Yes, this is an interstellar garden, of course. Bugs and fish that reside in here are from all across the cosmos. 

Oftentime strays that accidentally wandered onto the Observatory in the critters’ collective sense, only realizing that they were on-board after take-off. As for the fish, many were born if not specifically bought for the garden. It’s quite the menagerie indeed!

And while it is not a proper dome,      The Library: A comfortable and low-lit area for quiet conversations or general relaxation. Pillows are scattered about the room for sitting or resting, along with a collection of blankets tucked away in the corner. There exists rolling ladders and stepping stools for book-grabbing, as well. Low-down tables best used with floor seats or cushions should you desire a sit-down with a good book. 

Speaking of which, literature from all across the cosmos exists on those endless walls of books. Many of them are written in languages unknown to the general populous of Earth, but Rosalina would be more than happy to give a translation. Storybooks, history books, fiction and non-fiction. Thrillers, pop-ups, mysteries... why, if there’s a genre you’ve an itch for, it’s more than likely that there’s a book in here for you.

Extras-

The Comet Observatory is modeled off of interstellar beacons, explaining its rather pointed design. For the knowledgeable that make frequent space travel, it’s clear as day that Rosalina’s Observatory is made to represent a safe haven. A floating location of repose for any weary traveler in need of a pitstop and lucky enough to stumble across her ship within the depths of space. Even during its aimless drifting, Rosalina comes across plenty of random visitors.

At the very entrance of the Comet Observatory, the large circular and glass platform operates as a lift onto the ship proper whenever it’s landed. The Observatory itself remains in a constant levitation, never truly touching down. So it’s this circular glass platform that shifts from its position and lowers onto solid ground, allowing others to step upon it and raise up into the Comet Observatory.

If you’re the type without easy access to flight, it’s still plenty easy to get around the Comet Observatory’s tiered design. Handy dandy warp pads and their individual light lines are scattered across the ship’s floors, landlocked visitors needing but to step into one of the glowing green switches to have yourself transported somewhere else in mere moments! It’s a little discombobulating, but it’s been said it’s better than a Launch Star.

The Comet Observatory can technically travel through time. It’s not a playground that Rosalina frequents, but with full power, speeds can reach points fast enough to jump through space and time. In a similar vein, it can also traverse alternate realities. Such is the technicality for the Luigi playthrough unlocked through 100% completion in the original Galaxy game. Again, while not a skillset Rosalina flexes often, the ability is there.

The Gate to the in-game named Gateway Galaxy acts as the outer-reaches of the Comet Observatory’s breathable atmosphere. Anything past that and the cold depths of space can and will have its way with you.

Underneath the floorboards of Rosalina’s bedroom resides a collection of music boxes. They’re her favorite ‘instrument’ so to speak, an instant reminder to childhood, when life was simple. 

[bella-spil]

2 Romeos & 1 Juliet- Part 7

Part 7.  Fem reader and Bucky.

Warnings: some cursing, fluff.  You need to read the last two parts to understand what happens.

Taglist: @kmuir1​ @angrythingstarlight​ @wednesday-add-em​ @sea040561​

Word count: 2.6k

A/N:  This is that last part of this series.  Thanks to @kmuir1​, I had the pleasure of writing it.  They came up with the idea and I had a blast seeing where the story will go next.  @kmuir1​  I hope you enjoyed the story as much as I did and if you or anyone else has any requests, I will happily take them.  Enjoy!

“Doll, you awake?”

Your eyes fluttered open as you hear a familiar voice bring you back to reality.  Your mind is foggy, erased as last night didn’t even happen.  But, since you did have some heightened abilities, you were able to remember certain moments.  

You remembered Bucky walking you to your room, then he undressed you and then he was on top of you, shirtless.  Then Steve was on top of you, giving you to Thor.  As you walked past, Bucky was all bloody, and you were in lingerie.  

As you remembered everything that your mind allowed, you realised who was sitting on the end of the bed.  Bucky.  

Immediately, you tensed up, crawling on the bed as far away as possible.  You couldn’t go and attack him because you were hooked up to a bunch of machines, beeping your heartbeat and giving you IV.  You didn’t want this man to hurt you, touch you or do anything to you.  Your mind was filled with fear and rage.  Your breathing was hitched, becoming erratic as the seconds continued.  Your hands were frozen in fear.  

“Woah, doll, calm down.” Bucky soothed.  “I only want to talk, ok?”

You were still afraid, so you were not moving an inch.  You barely blinked, seeing if he was going to do anything.

Bucky sighed, knowing he might not get a response out of you.  If sadness was a color, that would be the color of his eyes right now.  He combed his metal fingers through his hair before explaining himself to you.

“Before I begin, what do you remember about last night?”

“You and I went on a date, for the bet.  We went to a diner and then we danced.  When we got home, you walked me to my room and undressed me.  Then, you were almost naked and on top of me.  But then Steve took me and then Thor took me here.” you recited.

“Ok, this might be confusing for you, but that wasn’t me,” Bucky said.  

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, giving him a look.  You were biting your bottom lip, a habit that you had whenever you were nervous.

“No, that was you,” you said.

“Ok.  Remember when I wasn’t feeling good earlier that day?  You said we could cancel and I agreed?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I didn’t leave my room the whole day,” Bucky stated.

“How?” you asked.  “You took me on a date.  Hell, you tried to rape me!”

Bucky sighed again, in annoyance for how oblivious you were being.  You should know that Bucky, the real Bucky, would never in any way try to hurt you, let alone rape you.  But he couldn't comprehend how easily you believed it was him.  He couldn’t let this one memory ruin his chances, let alone his friendship with you.

“Y/N, I was drugged, just like you were.  With the exact same drug.  I was out for the whole day.  The Bucky that took you on the date was Loki.  He was disguised as me.” Bucky explained, his voice raising as he explained himself.

You were trying to comprehend what he was saying.  Everything that happened last night was so discombobulated that you had a hard time knowing what to believe.  What happened last night felt like a chapter in a mystery book, the climax that everyone was waiting for.  You just happened to be the victim.

“How do I know you’re not Loki right now?  How do I know you’re not lying to me?” you asked, fear laced into your voice.

Bucky raked his fingers through his hair before he told you it all.  It was definitely not going to be easy to explain.  How do you tell someone, ‘oh yeah, the guy that was me that tried to rape you wasn’t me?’  Bucky was racking his brain for something, one sentence to just say, ‘it wasn’t me, can we pretend this never happened?’

“Because I was interrogated by Tony, Thor and Steve.  Me and the other Bucky, the one that tried to rape you.  We were asked questions by Steve and Tony while Thor was holding Mijonior to us.  I am the one that got the most right, so that’s why I’m here.  Also, Steve wouldn’t let your attacker be in the same room as you.”  Bucky explained.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes.  Your mind was telling you three different things.  One part was saying don’t trust this man, he is using you, he might rape you for real this time.  He could hurt or worse kill you.  But another part was telling you this was the real Bucky, the one that met you three years ago when you were with Rose.  He was the one that you were best friends with, through thick and thin with.  And the smarter part of your brain was telling you to listen to what this Bucky had to say.  If it seemed like he was telling you the truth, you would listen.  You had a knack for telling whether people were lying or not.  And if he was lying, well, it wouldn’t be a pretty sight.

“Explain everything that happened,” you said.  

“Ok, this is not going to be easy.  You should know I’m not the best with words,” Bucky said.

You emitted a little chuckle, trying to ease the tension in the room.  It made Bucky beam a smile back at you.

“I guess before breakfast Loki stole my medicine, the one that me and you were drugged with, from my room.  I don't know how the son of a bitch did it.   But he snuck it into my drink this morning.  That’s why I was so out of it.  Then, a couple hours later, he went to you, disguised as me.  What did he tell you?”

You were still trying to process what Bucky had told you so far, since the drugs were messing with your mind.  So it took a couple of claps from Bucky to snap you back from your head.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologized.

“Don’t say you’re sorry, you’ve had a long night,” Bucky quipped.

“When Bucky, I mean Loki came to me, he said that you were feeling all better and that you wanted to go on the date.  So I got dressed and then we headed to the diner.”

“Ok, do you have an idea of when he drugged you?” Bucky asked.

“How long does the drug take to kick in?” you questioned, so you could get an idea of when Loki drugged you.  

Since Bucky was the Winter Soldier, he had experience in the black market and drugs in general.  He bought pills and other lethal things from drug lords in Russia and Mexico, and used them to take out targets for H.Y.D.R.A.  H.Y.D.R.A. taught him about all drugs, from roofies to cocaine to inhalants, so if anyone asked him about drugs, he would have an answer.  He was like a mini Google, but the illegal side.

“Generally, it takes about an half an hour, but for me, it took an hour,” Bucky answered.  “How long did it take you?”

“Well, I went to the bathroom for a couple of minutes.  Then I went dancing with him.” you said.

“Did you drink it after you went to the bathroom?”

“No, after we were dancing, I drank it.”

“Did you stay at the diner after you danced with… him?” Bucky asked.

“No, not for that long.  We only stayed for a couple of minutes then we drove home.  It took about a half an hour and once we pulled into the driveway, I started to feel it.” you said.

“Ok, so it took you the normal amount of time,” Bucky said, trying to create a timeline in his head.

“So after, what happened?” you asked.

“Well I wasn’t awake yet, Loki explained this part.” Bucky said.  

“I think he walked you to your room, like in a friendly way.  But then he undressed you, like you said.  Then, he undressed, as me still.  He was about to kiss you when Steve, Tony and Thor busted into the room.  Steve made sure you were ok, and when he realised you were out of it, Thor took you, like you remembered, to the medical wing.

“I didn’t wake up until I heard Tony scream “Son of a Bitch!” and then I heard a punch and what sounded like broken bones.  So I walked to where the noise was coming from, and it was surprisingly your room.  I don’t normally see you as a violent person, so I followed the noise.  Then I heard a voice saying that some person was their mission.  I asked who was your mission and then I realised what I walked into.

“I saw an exact copy of myself, and it was fucking scary, doll.  It’s like those creepy twins, Louise and Lisa Burns, ya know?” Bucky chuckled.  You chuckled along with him, and then you signaled him to continue.

“Then the whole room went quiet.  Tony and Steve looked like they just walked out of a horror movie.  Then Steve told me to get in the room.  Thor walked in the room and he was just as confused as the rest of us.  

“Then Steve and Tony discussed what to do while Thor was watching us.  Steve finally decided to ask me and Loki questions that only the real Bucky would know, that being me.  I got all the questions right, and to my surprise, the other Bucky did too.  Steve was losing his shit.  He had no clue what to do.  So then, Tony asked the both of us a question.  Loki got it wrong and I got it right, and that was the deciding factor.”

“What was the question?” you asked.

“Tony asked us, ‘what did I call you when me, you and Steve were in the Russian hangar, looking for Zemo?’  The answer was  ‘Manchurian candidate.’” Bucky explained.

“Of course Tony would ask that,” you sighed.  Bucky laughed, and you could see the way his eyes crinkled whenever he smiled.

“After I proved myself, everyone knew something was up,”

“Yeah, no shit,” you remarked, getting an eye roll from Bucky.

“As I was saying, we all realized we hadn’t seen Loki the whole day.  And then Thor just rammed Loki into the wall.  They whispered some stuff to each other, and then the other Bucky transformed into, well Loki.  I was going to go beat the living daylights outta him, but Steve held me back.  So we let him explain what his evil plan was.”

“What did he say?” you asked eagerly, wanting to know as much details to the story as possible.

“He said that he wanted to get me out of the picture.  Make you see me as a villain, a monster.  And that hurt, because I know what that feels like.  But it hurts more when the person you love the most sees you like that.  He was going to manipulate you, to make you turn to him for comfort and I guess make you fall in love with him and hate me.  He said he guessed the answers to the questions, which in my head made no sense because he would have to go through the database to get those answers.  

“Then I got a little emotional and said that I loved you and reprimanded loki for what he did to you,” he muttered.

“What was that Bucky?” you mocked.  “I didn’t hear you.”

Bucky gave you a glare and sighed.

“I said that I got emotional because I love you.  Loki should know that’s not how you treat a woman, especially you.  I told him how you should treat a gal, and then he had a snarky comment, something like ‘I’m the God of Mischief.  I show my love through actions not words.’ Bucky immiated, getting a small giggle out of you.

“Then,” he sighed, smirking and making punching motions with his hands. “I proceeded to beat the mother fucker into a pulp.  I knocked the mischief outta him like I did with those bullies in the 40’s.  He was knocked out once I was finished.

“After, Tony and Thor took him to see Fury, I think for more questioning and to figure out what to do with him.  Then I headed straight to you.  I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I could tell you everything.”

You were still.  Your mind was replaying everything that Bucky had said to you, as if trying to evaluate if it was true or not.  A lot of it made sense.  In fact, it all made sense.  If the drug knocked you out for God knows how long, it should do the same for Bucky.

“How long was I out for?” you asked, rubbing your head.

“About a day,” Bucky said, counting the number of hours on his fingers.

“Sorry I kept you waiting for so long,” you smiled.

“It’s alright doll, you deserve the rest,” Bucky said.

You smiled back at him, but your mind kept going back to what he said earlier.  He was getting emotional over you?  You couldn’t believe it.  Even though you shared a kiss once before, this really proved how much he loved you.  

Your mind was going in circles.  You knew he was telling the truth, but there was a small voice saying ‘he’s lying, the story’s bullshit, he just wants to fuck you.’  But your heart was in control here.  It was telling you Bucky was the one.  He cared about you more than anyone.  He was willing to fight to the death you.  He showed how much he cared about you.  Hell, he even did a fucking bet to fight for your love.  If that didn't show devotion, you don’t know what will.

“Bucky, come here,” you said, patting a spot on the bed for him to sit.  He got up from the end of the bed and sat right next to you.  

“Are you sure you’re ok?  Do you want me to explain anything else to you?  I know it gonna be hard to process, bu-”

You didn’t want to hear anymore of his rambling, so you pulled his shirt, bringing his torso and lips closer to yours.  You pressed your lips for a searing kiss.  One to show everything you felt for him.  And it worked, because he pressed his lips harder against yours.  You marveled at how his soft, plump, pink lips felt against your.  Both of your tongues were dancing an unknown dance.  You were both gasping for breath when your lips parted.

“So,” Bucky asked, breathless.  “Does this mean I won?”

You chuckled before planting one more kiss to his lips, just to savour the feeling again.

“Yes,” you smiled.  “Mr. Barnes, you won the bet for my love against ‘he who shall not be named.’”

“I’ve never lost a bet doll, and I certainly was not going to lose this one,” Bucky smirked.

“Wait a second,” you realised. 

“What?”

“How did Tony and Steve find out that Loki was going to rape me?”

“Well, from what I heard, Tony has cameras in each of our rooms, and the F.R.I.D.A.Y. let him know,” Bucky said.

“Omg,” you sighed.  “What have those cameras caught all of us doing?”

Bucky chuckled, realising how creepy it seemed to have hidden cameras in the rooms.

“Probably a lot of stuff,” Bucky smiled.

“Imagine what it will see in the future,” you smirked.  Bucky’s eyes got darker and he leaned closer to you, till your lips were just brushing against each other.  You could feel his breath fanning your lips like a glaze.

“Darling, those cameras will be lucky to see what I’m gonna do to you in the future.  They will learn how to properly treat a woman.”      

[grahamstoney]

The Evolution of a New Musical Work

New Post has been published on https://grahamstoney.com/music/the-evolution-of-a-new-musical-work

The Evolution of a New Musical Work

On the second day, I added more layers to the drums of my new musical work, some strings to represent the infinite potential of my infant self, and a dirty electric guitar to represent the impact of my mother. I also extended the B section to 64 bars with the thought of using flex tempo later to increase the tempo in that section in order to express my increasing infantile panic.

Here’s what the result looks like in Logic Pro:

On The Second Day

To elaborate, I added a quarter note ride on the hit-hat and a syncopated snare drum part.

I created the drums using the 8 velocity sensitive pads on my Alesis V49 MIDI keyboard, which I reprogrammed to map to the Kick, Snare Rimshot, Snare, Clap, Splash Cymbal, Floor Tom, Closed Hit-Hat and Open Hi-Hat. I prefer playing drums on these pads rather than the keys of the keyboard since they feel a little more drum-like, although I’m new at it and had quite a few pad bounces to edit out. Also, my timing was pretty bad so I applied 50% quantisation and edited the most egregious errors manually. I didn’t want to quantise it completely because I want to retain a rough feel to the rhythm to help express the instability I felt as an infant; but I also didn’t want obvious errors distracting the listener.

In hindsight I probably could have saved time by only playing a few bars of the drum pattern and then looping it, but I want to apply layer cake orchestration™ to the drum part meaning it won’t end up simply being the same rhythm repeated throughout the piece like it is now. However, it is possible to trim and modify looped MIDI sections in Logic Pro, so I could have used this approached regardless. Nevertheless, I played each layer of the drum rhythm continually for 4 minutes or so, so I’ve ended up with one long MIDI region.

In order to represent the discombobulated feeling of being a new born with an emotionally unreliable caregiver, I chose a quite irregular drum rhythm with:

Kick on 1 and 2&

Toms on 2, 3 and 3&

Snare on 2 and 3&

This is unconventional for me because I generally write contemporary pop/rock where the kick is on 1 and 3, and the back beat snare on 2 and 4. During the editing to fix my bad rhythm on the pads, I noticed that I was often playing the snare almost a full eighth note early. After correcting many instances of this “error”, I started to wonder if it was actually my body’s natural rhythm trying to override my conscious mind’s tendency to want to control the fuck out of everything. I tried moving all the snare notes forward from the 2 onto the 1a, and decided I liked this even more syncopated version better. So now I have:

Snare on 1a and 3&

One of my favourite riffs in all of rock music is the synthesiser part from Jump by Van Halen. To represent my infant self, I added a Vintage Synth Strings part which approximates this sound, and then played with a simple 1-4-5 chord progression. The A section begins with this ear-pleasing sequence representing all the wonder and potential I had as an infant. While trying a few variations I found that a ♭3-2-1 progression gives a nice descent back to the tonic, unencumbered by the harmonic progression rules of western art music. I love breaking archaic rules, especially when it sounds good to my ear.

The B section of my part represents the struggle for control, sustenance and nurture between my mother and my infant self. On the one hand I was reliant on her for survival, but on the other she most likely didn’t feel safe to be around, so I wanted to escape. I added a dirty electric guitar to this part to represent her, using tritones similar to an emergency siren to represent danger in an ascending series to escalate tension. It’s meant to sound uncomfortable, and it does.

I also added occasional incursions of strings to represent my attempts to assert myself and wrestle control of my life away from her. I used volume automation to get the strings to fade more slowly than their normal release time, although in hindsight this may sound better if I actually automate the release time. Ideally I'd like the strings to fade gradually like a piano note does when it's held down, but I haven't found a better way of doing this yet.

In the end, the strings win and return full-force in the A’ section at the end. I can’t imagine that’s how it actually panned out for me as an infant in real life since my mother scared the shit out of me and it’s taken me many, many years of therapy to heal the resulting trauma. I’ve spent much of my adult life attempting to undo the damage I experienced in my childhood and regain control of my life, and part of the process involves reprocessing memories from the past, so I figure I’m entitled to a little artistic license here. I’d rather be happy than right.

Here’s what the piece sounds like at present:

https://grahamstoney.com/wp-content/uploads/Insecure-Attachment-21-3-2021.m4a

I still have more work to do and a few other ideas yet, including:

Layer cake orchestration™.

Introducing each instrument gradually, ala Tubular Bells.

Adding a bass riff.

Using flex tempo to increase the tempo during the escalating panic of the B section.

Equalisation.

Mixing.

Mastering.

Any other ideas that come to me in the creative process.

[eunahfmdarchive]

idol headcanon / not accepting!

tw: eating disorders under the cut.

send ◙ for an audition headcanon. ( wc: 215 ) eunah auditioned for dimensions entertainment online, with a video of herself singing ‘home’ from the musical version of disney’s beauty and the beast. she sent it in on a dare from a friend, who was a big fan of dimensions soloist one and a casual fan of gal.actic. it wasn’t supposed to be serious, and eunah really didn’t expect anything to come from it, so she didn’t dance for the tape at all, but her being pretty, small, and with a serious set of pipes was enough to pique dimensions’ interests. when they expressed their interest in meeting her in person, eunah was torn, but ultimately decided it couldn’t hurt to try. by that time, she already had quite a bit of experience performing on stage in musicals, and there was a big part of eunah that was already looking for something more than school and community produced amateur theatre. she was due to perform as the lead in her high school’s production of thoroughly modern millie when she received the invitation for the in person audition, and actually used her school’s choreography for the titular song for the dance portion of her audition. the fact that she actually passed, while auditioning in such a discombobulated and theatrical way remains beyond her to this day.

send ○ for a training headcanon. ( wc: 200 ) eunah trained for just under two years before debuting as 7rophy’s lead vocal. she struggled a lot during that time, and she had to spend a lot of time for the first few months there working on her korean, as she didn’t know as much as she thought she did before she moved. she was babied and heavily sheltered back at home by her parents and older sisters ever since she was born, on account of being born a month premature, so adjusting to the much tougher world of being a trainee. her struggles with weight began during this time, when her trainers encouraged her to lose weight and her fellow trainees also started to comment on it - much more maliciously than even the trainers did. eunah was never the strongest dancer, but she had the very basics of musical theatre dance and movement down, so she had to work really hard on her dancing to get it up to scratch, and unfortunately, that fact was something she used to her eating disorder’s advantage, using it to justify her weight loss to her concerned family back in seattle who were starting to ask questions whenever they video called her.

send ♥ for a headcanon about something my muse likes about being an idol. ( wc: 218 ) despite it being one of the first things 7rophy is always criticized for by anti fans and the general public, eunah really appreciates having so much experience in so many different concepts. she’s an actor by heart, and enjoyed shifting into different versions of herself. granted, it’s a bittersweet kind of appreciation, since eunah wishes that their concept changes had been better received by the public, similarly to how fuse’s were. though, she does recognize that fuse were actually marketed by gold star as a concept changing group. whereas 7rophy, on the other hand, just so happened to fall into constant concept flux by ways of dimensions entertainment’s poor management. nonetheless, eunah is glad that they got to try out lots of different styles of music, and at least the constant reinvention managed to save them from disbandment if nothing else, until dimensions allowed lux to have a heavier hand in their songs. and after all of those changes in concept, eunah is also really enthusiastic about the more “self produced” image 7rophy are being marketed with now, what with lux writing the vast majority of their group releases, eunah’s participation here or there, and what she likes most of all, as most people would expect is the control eunah has been given over her own solo music. 

send ♫ for a performance headcanon. ( wc: 210 ) eunah is a very clean and polished performer. there’s always room for change and error when you’re doing any kind of live show, so it’s extra important, in her opinion, to make sure you’re as consistent as you possibly could be before it’s time to present it to the public. she has been praised for her precise way of performing by fans, who understand it’s part of the effort she’s making to execute 7rophy’s choreography as best as she can. even if she isn’t anywhere close to being the best dancer in the group, she always makes sure that she’s doing her best to try to match them. as a lead vocal, singing is where she really shines. eunah grew up doing musicals, and that particular flare for the dramatic is something she’s never lost. she doesn’t get to do it very often as a member of 7rophy, but she loves performing ballads and emotional solos. eunah is very expressive while she sings, and can easily fall into the character of a song, and usually she’s performing from that point of view, rather than from her own. even when performing her self written music, there’s a certain level of detachment there that allows her to give a fully developed performance.

send ☀ for a variety headcanon. ( wc: 204 ) eunah is pretty poor on a lot of variety shows. at a lot of hosted shows, she finds it difficult to just relax and get on with what they’re there to do or to play along with any stupid jokes. her personality really does err more on the serious side, and she does end up get teased for that a lot on shows too. she’s known for being kind of difficult to get good responses out of, which means that a lot of her good variety show moments during her career have actually been very, very much scripted. she usually does any english speaking segments in shows, too. overall, she just comes across a little bit awkwardly. eunah ends up faring a lot better on 7rophy’s own reality shows - not that they’ve had more than one or two of them over the course of the last five years - such as to. pepe, that they filmed and produced themselves last year in partnership with kaja beauty while in san francisco. things of that ilk, short segments that are more casual, and hosting are things she’s fine with, but she wouldn’t be able to survive on a show like we got married or roommate.

send ♞ for a non-performance talent headcanon. ( wc: 203 ) eunah’s main talent off stage and off screen that’s actually beneficial to her music career is writing lyrics. it’s definitely a more recent development, and isn’t ever something that she thought dimensions would ever let her follow up with. she only got the bravery to after seeing the success that lux’s lyrics and music brought 7rophy. it isn’t a skill that she’s intentionally been honing for a particularly long time, but she has kept a diary for almost her entire life, ever since she can remember, so she has become really quite adept at expressing herself through the written word. a lot of the lyrics in her first mini album, mezzanine, are directly lifted from either her diary or from her recurring late night thoughts. it’s therapeutic and cathartic for her to do something productive with what are mostly negative and self disparaging thoughts, so it’s a talent that she plans to continue honing. where eunah fails to communicate well aloud, she makes up for it in her diary, in her poetry and in her song lyrics. she’s proud of herself for learning to express herself one way or another, especially since it’s apparently a profitable method for her and her company too. 

send ‼ for a career goal headcanon. ( wc: 205 ) eunah would really, really like to act more. her number one priority is getting back on the boards in a theatrical sense, whether that be in a play or in a musical. her number two priority would be to make a television acting debut. that being said, after seeing the success of a-teen, she definitely wouldn’t turn down another role in a web drama either. the bottom line is that she wants to act, and she wants to be taken at least relatively seriously as an actor too. she knows that that isn’t exactly easy for an idol actor to do, but she genuinely loves the craft, so eunah is willing to keep on trying to prove herself. other than acting, eunah is currently preparing for eunah mini album number two quietly in the background of all of her other activities, so she just wants to make sure that the songs on the album are the best that they can be, and that she shows another new side to herself, or at least a shift in herself in the songs. she’s also interested in potentially writing more for 7rophy, whether that be a throwaway lyric here or there or in collaboration with lux or not.

send ♡ for a social media headcanon. ( wc: 208 ) eunah is surprisingly active on social media for someone who’s as reserved as she seemingly is. she only really actively uses instagram, and doesn’t have a twitter, private or otherwise. she posts fairly regularly, at least three or four times a week, and they’re usually selfies or otherwise pictures of herself, sometimes alone, sometimes with crys, her and lux’s cat, sometimes with other 7rophy members. occasionally she also posts part of her creative process - nothing that could be considered a spoiler, just a picture of herself at work and a few sentences about how she’s feeling about whatever she’s working on. eunah finds it easier to be sincere and talkative with fans when she can think things through and write them out. therefore, her use of instagram has been extremely beneficial in clearing up any qualms over eunah being cold or ungrateful to her fans and to the opportunities she’s been given. she kind of also uses it as a public visual companion of sorts to her private written journal. she doesn’t have the patience for scrapbooking or instant photographs or anything like that, but she does enjoy the idea of it, so she uses her instagram has an outlet for that side of her artistic interests.

send ∞ for a future (post-idol life) headcanon. ( wc: 224 ) after idol life ends for eunah, i imagine that she would continue to be active in the entertainment industry as an actor, a soloist and a songwriter. her acting career would be her primary focus, and she would like to finally establish herself as a “serious” actor, and would likely work mostly in theatre, though not exclusively. eunah would really, really have an interest in making a broadway debut one day, potentially moving between seoul and new york regularly. it’s been her dream ever since she was a little girl to be on a broadway stage, and with the experience she’s wracking up under her belt and her american citizenship, she’s pretty sure that she can make it happen. her solo music would come second to acting. i don’t think that she’d necessarily be doing the music show circuit anymore, but that she’d mostly release digital singles and albums, promoting them minimally but ... enough to see success. the goal would be that by this time, her name would precede her to an extent, so that she could really do her music stuff on her own terms. she would love to still be at least collaborating with the other members of 7rophy, and she would rather die than be separated from milk, but she doesn’t expect the group to last forever by any means.

send ✈ for an airport fashion headcanon. ( wc: 202 ) eunah’s taste in fashion is actually rather colourful. she likes most colours, but pink and orange shades are her favourites. she’s also a big fan of clothes that can hide her body relatively well while not being too baggy. she saves the extra baggy stuff for when she’s at home. in airports though, fans are likely to see eunah wearing comfortable, tailored cotton dresses, usually still worn slightly loose fitting on purpose, oftentimes paired with an oversized corduroy or denim jacket. other times she wears cuddly cardigans, usually in white, cream and beige shades, usually paired with high waisted pants. her preferred styles of pants are slightly ill fitting, straight leg jeans and loose, wide legged cotton pants. eunah’s airport outfits, and her outfits in general, are usually affordable. she has one or two expensive statement pieces, but she uses them to death. one example would be her marc jacobs crossbody bag. she’s had it for over three years, and it’s definitely not the height of fashion anymore, but it does the job, and has consistently shown up as part of every airport outfit eunah’s been seen in since she first bought it. eunah also often wears her glasses to the airport.

send ☛  for a public image headcanon. ( wc: 220 ) at the moment, eunah’s public image is mostly favourable, though some people do see her as being too cold and too quiet for her own good. since embarking on her solo career over the last year, the number of people with that impression of her have dropped significantly. the idea that dimensions currently have for her is a shy, girl next door from the us, who can really turn it out on stage, someone who genuinely loves and cares about her craft and art. it’s easy enough for eunah to play into, since it’s not that far from the truth, even if she would never admit to naturally falling a little bit into the typical girl next door role. during the early days of 7rophy’s career, when they were almost nonexistent in the eyes of the public, eunah was really only known for her extremely low weight. she wasn’t even known much by name, she was just a photo and a number on a list of “skinny idols”. this, combined with the weight loss narrative that was spun around her after predebut photos and videos were uploaded to the internet, was very harmful to eunah’s body image and emotional well being, and is something she still struggles with having as part of her history as an idol to this day.

send ❂ for a voice-related (singing or rapping) headcanon. ( wc: 210 ) eunah is a comfortable mezzo soprano, and she has very good control over her head, chest and mixed voice. aside from her vocal training under dimensions, eunah was also coached in singing for musical theatre as a child. she takes care of her vocal chords as well as she can. she keeps drinking to a minimum, keeps dairy to a minimum and always warms up very, very thoroughly. she likes how her voice sounds the most when she sings in her upper range. eunah is also very comfortable experimenting with her voice, trying out pop sounds, jazz sounds and theatrical ballad sounds depending on the mood that she’s in. she never, ever likes to sacrifice technique though. keeping her voice safe is paramount to her. she’s been lucky that the lines she’s been assigned over the years in 7rophy’s songs have suited her voice well, and that she hasn’t had to strain and damage her vocal chords. when she was still just a kid, she heard about the dreaded legally blonde high notes that had to be lowered because of the damage that they supposedly did to the original elle woods’ voice, and it’s the main reason that she’s so careful with her voice. that story made her extremely paranoid.

[b-hardys]

familiarity / roger taylor

✩ __ hasn’t seen roger since she ran out of his flat one sunday morning, but after a gig is just the perfect time, right? wrong. 

a/n this took almost a week to write? hopefully this is okay have a lovely weekend its 1:30am in melbourne and its officially the weekend ok im rambling I love roger and wish I was a singer oops (p.s wish I was dead and deadly doll are actually songs by jesse jo stark so check her out!) 

With every blink, she swore he had moved to another spot within the crowded and musty pub. The gig had been good, room for improvement, sure - Fletcher had slipped up on a cord on the ground and knocked into Rowan’s drum-kit, throwing off the drumbeat in the midst of “Wish I Was Dead” - but a good gig nonetheless. The ‘afterparty’ or pub crawl, whatever you wanted to call it, was in full swing, the place had to be at full capacity, but people kept filing in. The word throughout the cramped and claustrophobic crowd was that “Queen was here tonight!” and whether or not the foursome had been at the gig or not threw __ into a tailspin.

“You know, you can be upset he’s here.” Rowan’s thick Irish accent never failed to frighten the young woman when it appeared out of nowhere. ‘He’ had to be Roger, __ hadn’t seen him since she stumbled out of his shared flat that Sunday afternoon, too overwhelmed with her own emotions to even grab the coat she’d left on the rack by the door or the pyjamas she had hung up to dry by the radiator. The decision to break up with him had been festering within her head from the moment whatever his fucking ex’s name was came tumbling into __’s life. The constant foreshadowing of Roger being unfaithful or leaving her behind in the dust circulated around and around her mind; one person can only harbour so much paranoia before they crumble.

“I should not be upset, I broke up with him. I can’t go gallivanting around being upset and torn apart, that’s just unfair.” __’s stance on her emotions and her guilt had been implanted within her while she pinballed herself home through the crowded and wet streets of London that fateful afternoon. This decision to bottle everything up inside once she reached the elevator of her building had been eating away at her, no matter what she did or how many pep talks she’d tried to give herself in the mirror - quietly, the walls were thin and Fletcher’s room is beside hers.

The more __ thought about it, the more she drank. Between the drinks being handed to her with the passing comment of “fucking good set tonight!” and those being bought between the trio that was Deadly Doll, __ found herself fucking plastered. Her legs ached from bouncing around with Fletcher and Rowan and their girlfriends and anyone who had bounded into the sunken floor being used for a dancefloor, and her head felt like it wasn’t even attached to her shoulders anymore as if it was floating above her.

Having lost sight of Rowan and Fletcher hours earlier, __ seemed to be floating from social group to social group, and she swore she’d stopped for a moment to compliment Freddie on the coat he was wearing - but with how discombobulated and colluded her mind was at that present time it could have been anyone wearing a garbage bag for all she knew. Her eyes, no matter how hazy her vision, could always pinpoint the blue-eyed bombshell that had invaded her life and personal space for the eight months prior to a fortnight ago. Her eyes could also spot the smaller brunette attached to him, her baby pink blouse effortlessly knotted at her stomach and her jeans hugging in all the right places. Her lingering hand wandering up and down the expanse of Roger’s arm turned __’s night immediately sour. Any thought or feeling of accomplishment or victory they’d been celebrating had completely vanished from view, the only thought or feeling remaining being one of utter, drunken, sadness.

Fletcher knew, more than anyone, how much breaking up with Roger had truly affected __. Her mood at home was almost a half-version of herself. Her time, and thoughts, were commonly associated with music, and music only, as if a moment outside of their blossoming career would just be a haunting reminder of how much she’d let outside sources control and manipulate her happiness. Fletcher also, had his own drunk girlfriend to take care of, as well as himself - they weren’t getting home by sheer intuition, he knew that. So upon finding the young woman he classified as his best friend, not that he would ever admit it out loud, drunkenly sulking and borderline crying in the corner of the dingy and hot pub they’d been bouncing around in for the past couple of hours, he was truly worried.

“__, hey, hey, c’mon you need to calm down.” His hot, clammy hands tried their hardest to soothe the younger woman with her hair askew and the lace trimming of her tank top so uncomfortably itching her skin. “It’s just everything unbottling itself, you're alright.” Her mind had truly snapped, the tether she had been so desperate to maintain had finally worn down and everything was just seeping out of her. By no means was this a private escapade, the two of them drunkenly embracing in the corner while one of them was crying was so easy for everyone to see - the flickering neon light above them was definitely not helping either.

“Hey mate, your girlfriend is looking- oh, Christ.” The sight before Roger was purely heartbreaking. From that Sunday afternoon onwards, __’s pyjamas hadn’t moved from the clotheshorse beside the radiator, and her perfume remained atop his chest of draws, the smell still lingering on her former side of his bed. “What - I mean, what’s going on?” Between __ sitting in Fletcher’s lap, her body slightly shaking and Fletcher’s horrified and concerned expression, Roger was rightfully worried about what the fuck was happening in front of him.

“She just had a lot to drink, and you know her! She’s just bottled everything up - it’s come out.” __ just could not control the absolute gibberish that was piling out of her mouth. The neverending “I’m sorry” and “I want to go home” just accumulating between the three of them in the corner. “I need to go find Clara. Rog, can you just wait with her? I’ll come back when I find Clara!”

Roger truly had not seen __ since she ran out his and Brian’s flat; hours before when she was singing her heart out on stage being the only exception. And now, standing in the corner whole Fletcher was scanning his eyes around searching for his girlfriend (who he was not going to find while sitting there consoling __), Roger knew that he had to step in. “I’ll take __ home. You go find Clara, I’ll get __ to call ya’ in the morning.”

With a nod and some acknowledgement, Fletcher was off squeezing through all of the patrons still loitering around, thankfully too drunk to notice that __ was drunk off of her face and plunging her face into the space between Roger’s neck and shoulder.  

Trying to manoeuvre __ through the lobby towards the elevator had to be one of the hardest struggles Roger had faced within the past couple of months (not including his heart being split straight down the middle, with __ running down the street with her respective half). __ could stand, but hardly, her drowsiness and alcohol intake severely slowing down her inhibitions and co-ordination.

“Rog, I’m so sorry I’m your problem, I’m so sorry.” Sitting on the end of Roger’s bed simply felt so wrong and invasive. Even considering her drunken state, __ could recognise herself all over the small bedroom. Articles of her clothing still lingering in the room, polaroids of the two of them stuck up amongst the posters and mock-up Queen memorabilia. “I’m just, wow, just so sorry.” The tension in the room was ultimately suffocating, and awkward. __ didn't know what to do, didn't know where to put her hands or whether or not she should fumble around and try to take her shoes off.

Roger still looked the same - his hair a mess and his clothes so haphazardly mismatched but like it always did, it worked, everything worked for Roger. He was so gentle, even through the process that was trying to undress __ he was always so, so gentle. Even though __’s arms could hardly hold themselves up and she kept almost crying whenever she remembered that she was in Roger’s room again, with him and that she missed him, so, so much. Managing to manoeuvre __ down into his bed and under the covers had to be a mission, and he knew that the glitter she’d covered her eye-lids in was going to be all over his covers in the morning, but Roger could care less.

“It’s so inappropriate but please just stay with me.” The soft whisper would have been completely drowned out if anyone else had been inside the flat in those early hours of the morning. If Brian was pondering around or fiddling with his guitar, Roger would not have heard __’s plea for him to stay with her.

And yes, it was inappropriate. And yes, Roger should have said no and slept on the couch, or even Brian’s bed that remained unused that night. But, looking down at her lying underneath his covers once again, latching herself onto the pillow that used to be claimed as her own, he became a weaker version of himself. And four o’clock in the morning became the perfect time for Roger to slide in beside __, for __ to snuggle herself up beside the man she missed so much, and for Roger to lay the smallest, chaste kiss atop of __’s temple. They’d deal with whatever their intoxicated minds had decided was normal later in the morning.

I’m feeling like I might write a part two to this but we’ll see if my uni workload agrees with that idea, let me know if you’d like to be tagged!! I really like these characters and story so who knows. x

[thinkyoureholy]

Blood Lust [11]

A/n : hhhhhhh I'm sorry I made y'all wait so long😭 everything I was writing out didn't seem good enough until now. 😞

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Pairing : Oh Sehun / Reader

Genre : Fluff, Angst, Vampire!AU

Words : 2k

Pt 1. Pt 2. Pt 3. Pt 4. Pt 5. Pt 6. Pt 7. Pt 8. Pt 9. Pt 10. Pt 11. Pt 12. Pt 13. Pt 14. Pt 15.

-Y/N’s P.O.V-

“I don’t think it’s right to leave her alone with you.”

“Well that’s not really your choice to make is it?”

I woke up to the sound of two men arguing, one voice more familiar than the other. I squinted my eyes as soon as I opened them. I could still hear the two men arguing but I was still too out of it too make out what they were saying. I looked over to see that one of the men was Sehun while the other was the man I faintly remember to be named Kir. I sat up in the bed, my eyes still on them as they immediately stopped talking once they realized I was awake.

“Y/N!” Sehun exclaimed reaching out for me but before he could reach me, Kir stopped him.

Kir had grabbed ahold of Sehun’s arm, stopping him from touching me. Sehun didn’t take too well to being touched as he stared Kir down, Kir glaring right back into his eyes.

“You. What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I asked, looking at Kir with a darkness clouding my eyes.

Kir looked at me hesitantly before speaking, “I was just-”

“Let him go.”

“But-”

“Now.” I said firmly, flashing him my bright blue eyes.

At seeing them he immediately did as I said, bowing his head as Sehun took the opportunity to come over to me. As soon as he was within arms reach I grabbed at his shirt, pulling towards me as I stood up and engulfed him in a hug. I felt his chest rumble as he chuckled softly, one of his hands coming up to tangle in my hair while the other rubbed my back soothingly.

“You’re safe…” I trailed off.

“I should be the one saying that. You’re the one that took all the blows for me.” Sehun said as he buried his face into the crook of my neck, “Don’t scare me like that ever again, love.”

“I’ll leave you two then.” I heard Kir say before he started to leave.

“Wait.” I called out to him, pulling away from Sehun.

“I need you to answer a few questions for me.”

“Anything for you.” Was his immediate response, throwing me off guard, “But I’d rather not have him in the room.”

I sighed heavily, rubbing my hand over my face lightly, “Look I know he was the one that killed your son but he did it for me. It wasn’t a simple rivalry. Andrei drank from me weeks before the party.”

“He what?” Kir asked incredulously, surprised by the news.

“If it wasn’t for that I wouldn’t have gone so far as killing him. I would’ve simply roughed him up a bit.” Sehun explained.

At hearing this a somber look crossed Kir’s face before he knelt down on one knee, his head bowed, “It wouldn't be enough for me to apologize a million times on behalf of my son.”

I was bewildered to see him kneeling in front of me again so I went over to help him stand, “I’m not asking for an apology. I’m asking for you to put the hate you have for Sehun aside.”

“Anything for you, my queen.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, internally cringing at hear that. I still had no idea what any of this meant so to be suddenly called a queen was a little discombobulating. I couldn’t help but grimace as I repeated the word in my head, bringing a hand up to rub my forehead.

“About that...can you, uh, not call me that?”

“It would be disrespectful of me to call you otherwise.” He said firmly.

I sighed at seeing the look on his face, “Fine. Do what you want. Can you explain to me why I’ve become a queen all of a sudden then?”

-

“Your father crawled out of one of the eight circles of hell didn’t he?” I asked Sehun as I turned to him.

Sehun simply sighed before nodding. Kir had just finished explaining everything to me; the Knights, their extinction from the vampire world, Sehun’s father taking over as head honcho, and everything else that happened in between. It was a lot to take in but now that I had finally heard everything I was only angry with one man and that was Janghyun. I could care less about what he did to my ancestors but I’ll never forgive him for the shit he put my mother through. Even with all this information there was still one question unanswered.

“Why was he is so interested in us? Why did he keep my mother and I alive knowing we were Knights?” I asked, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to figure it out myself.

“You’re blood...is very powerful. As a human you’re blood was just tastier, smelled better but as a vampire? If any vampire drank from you they’d get infinitely more stronger, their lifespan increasing another few millennia. Now if not just any regular vampire drank from you but a pureblood? The effect it would have would be tenfold of that of a normal vampire.” He explained slowly, as if not wanting to overwhelm me.

I said nothing as I looked down at my hands, my mind going blank. I didn’t know how to process any of this information. I mean before any of this I was just a servant, doing as I was told albeit I was more on the rebellious side but I did my duties nonetheless. I was so caught up in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Sehun and Kir having a silent conversation, only realizing what was going on when Kir got up to leave. I looked up at him curiously, frowning when he bowed deeply before turning on his heel and walking out of the room. As soon as he left the room I returned my gaze back to my hands, already starting to dig my nails into my palms. Before my nails could break the skin Sehun reached over and straightened out my fingers, grabbing my hands in his his. I didn’t raise my head to meet his gaze, my mind going through a whirlwind of emotions and thoughts. I heard Sehun sigh heavily before feeling his arms wrap around my frame and I immediately buried my head in the crook of his neck.

“I’m not going to let him have you, I promise.” Sehun said soothingly, his hand rubbing my back in a calming way.

“That’s not what I’m afraid of. Let him come for all I care...that way I can finally finish him off, put him through hell before ending his miserable existence,” I said through gritted teeth, my hands curling into fists before relaxing them, “I-I can’t be their leader...I don’t know the first thing about leading. I was born a servant for fuck’s sake but now I’m supposed to just accept that I’m some almighty vampire? A queen? How-”

“Hey. Hey, calm down. Breathe.” Sehun cut me off as he pulled back to cup my face in his hands as I had gotten too worked up, “You’ll do just fine. I’ll be there every step of the way. Now, c’mon, they’re waiting.”

“They?”

He smiled softly before nodding, “If they’re gonna follow you into battle they need to see that you’re the real deal.”

I furrowed my eyebrows, unsure about all of this. My feelings of hostility vanished as I felt his lips on my forehead, reassuring me. I was still unsure but knowing he’d be there helped ease my nerves. So with a bit of hesitation I stood up, holding onto Sehun’s hand tightly as we started walking towards the door. As I stood in front of the door my fear started to grow as I was beginning to second guess myself but Sehun was there. He didn’t make a move to open the door, wanting to wait until I was completely ready. After a few deep breaths I mustered up the courage and finally opened the door. As soon as I saw what was waiting outside my face drained of color, my heart sinking to the bottom of my stomach.

Dozens of vampires stood in Chanyeol’s home, hundreds more outside. The crowd of people were talking amongst themselves but as soon as they felt my presence they stopped talking immediately. I noticed Kir and the few people he had inside the home with him were the only ones that bowed their heads, while the others stared at me. Some stared in wonder, others stared skeptically, while a select few stared at me with hostility. With all their eyes on me I started getting cold feet as I stumbled back slightly but Sehun held on tight, keeping me in place. I looked over at him with wide eyes, my body tense. Before I could even say anything to him they started talking.

“You’re telling me this is a Knight?” A man asked, the disdain in his voice clear.

“You really expect us to believe some servant girl is one of them?” A woman chimed in, her tone the same as the man.

“It's not above you to lie for your own gain Kir.” A different man said, his voice slightly disappointed.

“I mean really how do you expect us to believe it when it was Janghyun’s own son that turned her?” A taller man said, stepping forward.

“He’s almost as bad as his father yet you want us to follow the one he’s turned?” A woman said, looking me up and down, “He should’ve just let the poor human die if he was just going to manipulate her into thinking she’s an all mighty vampire.”

“I say we kill them both for lying, start with Sehun so she knows what-”

I didn’t let him finish his sentence, my claws digging their way into his neck.  As their words had progressed I had gotten angrier and angrier. I finally snapped at the mention of killing Sehun. I had shifted and made my way over to the man that had suggested it before any of the others could blink. Now that I stood before him I saw his eyes widen as he stared into mine. I heard the others gasp, a few stumbling back as they saw what I looked like when I shifted. I paid them no mind as I stared down the man in my grasp, squeezing slowly as I began to speak.

“I’d watch my tongue if I were you. Say something as careless like that again and I won’t hesitate to kill you. I won’t even let you beg for your life.” I said through gritted teeth, my grip on him tightening ever so slightly as the seconds ticked by.

Just as I felt like his neck would snap under my grasp a hand grabbed at my wrist gently. I followed the arm the hand belonged to to see that it was Sehun. He gave a subtle shake of his head, my grip loosened immediately at seeing it. I let the man crumble to the floor, his hands coming up to his neck. I turned to look at the others who had spoken so carelessly, watching as each and every one of them lowered their eyes before kneeling. My mouth fell open at seeing everyone kneeling, Kir included. I looked at Sehun with wide eyes, my mouth agape. He simply smiled before doing the same, bowing his head as he kneeled, his right fist placed over his heart.

-

“Janghyun must already know of the vampires gathered here for you. How do you expect to take him out if he already knows you’re coming. We’ve lost the element of surprise.” A man who’s name I learned to be Minsung said, a frown on his face.

“I want him to know I’m coming. I want him to know I’m not that scared little girl he used to torment.” I said with as much confidence as I could muster, “Besides, this means he’ll just put up more of a fight. It would be pointless to attack when he’s least expecting it and take him out so quickly, I want him to suffer the same way he made my mother suffer.”

Silence fell over the room before a woman named Luna spoke, her voice low, “She speaks like one of them. There’s no doubt about it, she’s a Knight.”