#sometimes you have to just know it's an impossible cause and risk ruining your entire vacation???

[recalcitrantlycaffeinated]

My husband, blissfully unaware at home: my wife did a full food safety training, she always keeps our family safe [heart emoji]

Me in the car, opening up a suspiciously warm chicken salad wrap after my cooler failed: and THIS one goes out to the homie, St. Jude

[love-and-monsters]

Feathered Dragon Partner

Nonbinary feathered dragon X gn reader, 11382 words

So I finished this and I did not proofread it and now I’m posting it so. I hope it scans. Let me know what you guys think. Might be kind of quiet on here for a while bc I’m trying to actually write my own novel, so. We’ll see how that goes. Anyway, enjoy. 

A chance encounter at the market, a free sample, and an unfortunate injury. What do they all have in common? Why, a certain feathery, scaly friend who is quite interested in you!

Content warning for minor injury and mention of medical malpractice causing physical harm. 

The Avieras Festival was in full swing, and you were ducking, dodging, and weaving your way through the patrons that packed the street so thickly it was near-impossible to find space. Most of them were in elaborate costumes, which only made navigating tricker. Some wouldn’t care if you trod on a hem or feather as you hurried by, but others would care. And they usually cared enough to spend ten minutes lecturing you on exactly how expensive the fabric you’d just ruined with your bootprint was. And sometimes they even cared enough to stick you with a dry cleaning bill, which was really the last thing you needed. So, you avoided stepping on people in general.

Festival days were good business days, generally, but you needed to find the right location to set up. Too much in the thick of it and you’d risk your wares getting knocked over by overeager or drunk patrons. Too far out and no one would be interested.

You located, after a few minutes of searching, an alcove that offered enough shade to be comfortable, and enough light to draw in patrons. As soon as you reached the spot, you snapped open your charmed bag and pulled out a sturdy roll of carpet, which you set on the ground in front of you, and your wares.

A table would have been better to show them off, since putting them so close to the ground risked them getting dirty, but even a collapsed folding table would have been hard to fit through the opening of your bag, so you let it be. The carpet sufficed, and you had two thin racks to display your best work upon. They would be sufficient to draw customer attention.

This part was the worst part. You enjoyed the crafting and the creating and not so much the selling. But, well. It was part of the job. So, you slapped the best smile you could on your face and started waving enthusiastically to the crowd. Every now and then, you’d see someone pause as their eyes snag on one of your creations and you called out to them. “Hello, ma’am! Yes, this mask will go wonderfully with your costume, see the lovely yellow, and the purple accents will bring out the richness of the color! Oh, and I have a hairpiece that goes perfectly if you’d like to bundle them together-”

You’re not bad at selling, but it does feel a lot like you’re putting up an act. It’s not like you’re not proud of your work- you wouldn’t sell your festival masks and accessories if you weren’t pleased with how they came out. But the energy required to act cheery and polite and overly-enthusiastic was ridiculously draining. By a couple of hours in, your stock was over half-gone, and you were utterly grateful. Perhaps you would sell out early and you could grab some delicious fried food and scuttle away to your home before the night got too wild.

��Well, aren’t these just delightful,” someone mused from entirely too close to you, and it took all your customer service skills to smile cheerfully instead of screaming and leaping out of your skin.

The prospective customer was leaning over your stand, gazing at your wares with clear interest. You recognized them, if only dimly. They worked as a butcher, and you’d seen them several times when you picked up food from the store. However, they’d always had their hair up and their feathers tucked away when they worked. Now, they were letting their hair hang free down their back, almost to their waist. Their skin was oddly colored, almost milky, with scales along the backs of their limbs. Plumes of feathers decorated their ears and their scaled tail. AS they shifted their weight, one of their hands resting on their generous hips, their skin caught the light and glowed in opalescence. The scales on their forehead had been picked out with some silvery makeup, making them stand out even more.

You picked your jaw off the floor and slapped your customer service hat back on. “Ah, thank you very much! You already seem fairly well-feathered, but perhaps I could offer you a small hairpin? I have some that aren’t quite so ornate if you’re looking for something lower key.”

As they leaned forward to examine your wares, you swept a critical eye over them. It was sort of a fun guessing game you tried to play with yourself, to figure out exactly what species each customer was. Most of the time, you didn’t get an answer, since it was pretty rude to ask someone casually what they were, but it was still fun. The oddest one had been a combination between a merfolk and a dragon, which had resulted in something like a human upper half, albeit completely covered in scales, and a sea-serpent tail. They’d also been a remarkably good customer, though they’d tried haggling for a better price.

This person… well, the scales suggested a dragon, but feathered dragons were rare, and even more rarely did they assume a humanoid form. Not to mention they had wings. Perhaps some sort of hybrid, then? Or maybe a harpy and dragon hybrid? You’d never seen one, though it did seem like this one should be more feathered if it really was a combination.

They cleared their throat and you hurried to focus your mind on their purchase. You could speculate after they were done. “See anything you like?”

“I believe so,” they said, their eyes flicking up to meet yours. “But I…” They hesitate, their tail curling. The feathered tufts of their ears twitch. “I…”

“Can’t decide?” you asked. It was always sort of flattering when customers felt that way- nice to know you’d been able to catch their eye with multiple pieces. Perhaps a better salesperson would have convinced them to buy both, but you figured if they wanted both, they would have bought them in the first place. You were happy to sell even one piece. “I can help you decide. Which ones do you like?”

The customer hesitated, then selected two ornamented hair clips- a pale pink and a deep sea-green. Both of them matched shades that appeared in their feathers and along their glimmering scales. Either would have been a good choice. You picked them up and held them out consideringly.

“Here, let’s see…” You held both clips up, one on either side of their face, and directed them to look into the mirror. “The pink one is a bit simpler than the green one- less feathers and jewels, see? You’ve got feathers on you already, so I don’t think you need the excess feathers, unless you’re going for an over-the-top look.” You glance over them with a critical eye. “However, the pink also blends in with your outfit a little more, so if you want it to stand out, the green might work better. Are you thinking of wearing this for daily use or just when you’re getting dressed up for a festival or party?”

“I suppose daily,” they said, tilting their head from side to side. Their eyes, bright yellow as topaz, glitter in the sunlight.

“Then the pink might be a little more lowkey,” you declared. “But it’s all up to you, of course.”

They hesitated for a moment longer, considering. “The pink, then,” they said.

“Wonderful,” you said, placing the green clip down on the table. “Would you like me to wrap this or would you like to wear it right away?”

“Right away,” they said.

“Sure! Makes sense that you’d want to wear it for the festival,” you said. “Now, your total is fifteen shen.”

They reached into their pocket to pull out their wallet and passed you a few coins. You tucked them smoothly away. “I can put it in your hair for you, if you’d like,” you added. They stared at you, yellow eyes going wide. “Only if you’d like! Some people just have a difficult time getting the clip into their hair on their own- but you can also just borrow a mirror if you would like.”

“No, I would appreciate the help,” they said. You gestured for them to turn and they did so, crouching down to allow you to reach. They were tall, so that was another suggestion they were related to a dragon. Then again, you had some gnomish blood, so most everyone was taller than you.

You gathered the silky strands of their hair into your hand and settled the clip in place. They twitched a little under your touch and their tail shuddered when you took an extra moment to stroke a few strands of hair back into place.

“There. Does it look all right to you?” you asked, offering them a mirror that was angled so they could see the back of their head. They nodded and brushed off their front as they stood.

“Thank you for the help,” they said. “And your work is quite lovely. I hope you’re finding success here.”

“That’s very kind of you,” you said. “Ah, here, take this as well!” You reached down and grabbed a small, though still pretty, tail cuff. It was designed to clip into place, with an adjustable band to keep it from slipping down the tail. You pressed it into their hands.

The feathers on their tail and ears fluffed up in surprise. “Oh- but I didn’t pay for-”

“The Avieras Festival is for celebrating feathered creatures,” you said, pressing the tail cuff on them more insistently. “Think of it as a party favor. And you’ve been quite sweet, I think you deserve it.”

Their eyes went wide and they took the tail cuff like it was a holy artifact. “Thank you,” they said. They smiled, showing off their pearly white canines. “You really are a sweet thing, aren’t you?”

With that, they reached out, affectionately patted my cheek, then headed off into the crowd. You blinked after them. You had been pretty sure you were flustering them for a moment there, so it was a bit strange to have the entire thing turned around on you. Fortunately, another customer arrived in a moment and you could launch straight back into your customer service mode.

The pace of sales picked up throughout the night. You sold out quicker than you’d anticipated, with plenty of time to enjoy the festival. You packed away your belongings in your bag and headed out to explore.

It was late evening as you headed out into the main section of the festival. The town center was full of people dressed in feathered outfits. The Avieras Festival was a celebration of avians- typically, that meant people with some kind of bird relation, like harpies, but it technically included all kinds of feathered creatures. That meant that everyone was dressed in feathers. Some people had more elaborate outfits than others, with multicolored feathers and even bird masks, but most people were just wearing feather accessories. Harpies and other flying creatures soared through the sky in an impressive array of aerial dancing. Music floated through the air with them, bright and lively.

Exploring the festival involved you getting as much unique food as you could and shoving it all in your mouth while you examined the items for sale. There were several games set up along the streets. One of them was a modified version of flight chicken, where two contestants were suspended by magic and then dropped toward the (magically cushioned) ground. The goal was to pin your opponent underneath you before you hit the ground. While most people participating seemed pretty poor at it, the matches that involved experienced partners were fascinating. There were a couple other games that were usually played in the air that had been modified so everyone could enjoy them, plus some other games that could by played just as easily by people on the ground. You tried a couple of rounds of a game like ring toss, which involved getting a wooden circle to land around a peg from several feet up, and won a tiny, simple wooden bird. You probably could have bought it for less than you’d paid to play the game, but willing it made the experience better.

After playing a few more games, you wandered over to the art installation that covered the far side of the festival. It was meant to cover the multiple traditional forms of art from different harpy flocks, from fashion to paintings, and there were even a few sphinx artifacts. A large platform toward the middle of the installation held a rotating cast of musicians and dancers. You paused to watch a group of harpies weave in and around each other, smoothly moving from dancing on the ground to in the air. A sphinx passed by, flexing her wings in time to the music. You even caught sight of what was probably an aasimar, gold-skinned and faintly glowing, examining a flight cape.

By the time you finished the art exhibit, it was getting late. Several of the games and activities made for children had packed up, and the party had shifted to more of a late-night-club vibe. Pulsing lights lined the buildings, casting a multicolored glow across the scene. It was pretty, and you did consider staying for a bit longer, but you were already exhausted from selling and walking around. As a large portion of the townspeople headed out to continue the party, you headed back to your home.

The streets got clearer the further you headed away from the festivities, though there were still pockets of people. Some of them were rather drunk. Just as you turned a corner, a group of stumbling drunks bowled into you, practically trampling you as you fell to the ground.

“Hey!” you protested, but your voice wasn’t that loud thanks to your surprise. Two of them, the taller two of the bunch, barely seemed to notice you. The third one turned and gave you an apologetic wave before being dragged off.

You cursed to yourself as you got up. Parties always brought out the asshole drunks- admittedly, you were on the small side (curse that gnomish blood) and the lighting wasn’t good here, so it was possible that they hadn’t seen you. But they still could have at least paused when they hit you!

“Oh dear,” someone murmured, and you heard rapidly approaching footsteps. Someone crouched and a slender, pale hand entered your field of vision. “Are you all right? Can you get up?”

“I’m fine,” you groused, taking their hand so they could tug you up. “Not hurt or anything- ow.” You put weight on your left leg and it throbbed. Probably not broken or even sprained, but there was going to be a very nasty bruise in the morning.

“I beg to differ,” your helper said, and you finally looked at them properly. To your surprise, you knew who they were. Their hair clip and tail clip were still secured neatly in place, right where they’d been place when they’d bought them. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?” You lifted one of your hands to brush the dirt off your shirt and paused when you saw the oozing scratches along your palms. There were little bits of grit in the cuts. You winced. “Ow. Damn.”

“You should get those cleaned out,” they said. “Here, there’s a water pump nearby.” They took you gently by your wrist and led you a few feet away to a public water pump. They withdrew a pack of tissues from their side pouch and wet them before turning back to you. “Let me see your hands.”

You extended your hands out, palms up. They gave you a grateful smile and started swiping the wet tissues over the cuts.

It stung, of course, and you sucked in a sharp breath. They crooned in their throat, a gentle shushing noise. “I know it hurts, I just need to get all that gunk out.” Their thumb traced your wrist, stroking over the pulse point. You swallowed.

They took a few moments to clean it out, then paused, tilting your hand back and forth to make sure the dirt is gone. “There we are,” they murmured. “I don’t have any bandages on me, I’m afraid.”

“It’s really not necessary,” you said. “They’re just small scratches. See, they’re hardly even bleeding anymore.” You held your hand out- the cuts were still red, but no longer bleeding. They looked them over carefully, their tail swaying slightly as they focused.

“And nothing else hurts?” they asked. “You’re feeling okay otherwise?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m fine. It’s not a problem.”

They nodded, then looked around you to glare in the direction the tramplers had gone. “Hmph. Shame that festivals can bring out the worst in people. They didn’t even bother to stop.”

“No, but I’m fine, really,” you said.

They flicked their tail with a ruffle of feathers. “Yes, but you if you haven’t been…” They shook their head. “Ah, well. I suppose we should just be grateful it wasn’t worse.” They slipped their hand under your chin with a feather-light touch and tilted your head back and forth. “And at least there’s no damage to your cute face, hm?”

A warm flush rolled over your entire body. Their tone was lightly teasing, but still quite sweet, and it wasn’t like you were used to receiving flirtation like that. You stepped back, pulling your chin from their grasp in embarrassment. “I- uh. Th- thank you.”

They hummed pleasantly. “Of course. No problem.” They gave you another look over, their brows furrowing. “Ah… would you mind if I walked you home? I don’t mean to be pushy, but I do want to make sure you’re safe.”

“I think I’ll be fine,” you said, taking a step forward. One of your ankles throbbed, but it held your weight.

They looked unconvinced. “You’re favoring your left ankle. Are you certain you’re all right?”

“Probably,” you said. “It hurts, but my home’s only a couple of blocks from here. I can manage.”

They frowned. Their tail swayed back and forth. “At least let me walk with you? I just don’t want you collapsing as soon as you’re out of sight. It will give me some comfort.”

“If you insist,” you said, offering them a weak smile. They seemed genuinely worried about you, and in all honestly, you weren’t totally sure how well you could walk anyway.

They stayed by your side as you headed toward your house. A couple of times, they needed to reach out and steady you when you forgot your ankle was bad and put your weight on it. The insistent throbbing pain got worse every few steps, and by the time you were within a few feet of your home, you were practically dragging your leg behind you. Your eyes watered with the pain.

Your companion put a hand to your shoulder, encouraging you to lean against them. “Are you certain you shouldn’t see a healer?” they asked. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”

“If it still feels bad tomorrow, I’ll see a healer. Right now, I just need to put it on ice and elevate it,” you said.

“If you’re sure,” they said. They paused, still looking at you with obvious worry, then their expression brightened. “Ah, let me give you this.” They rummaged in their pocket for a moment, then pulled out a small, shimmering disc. They took one of your hands in their own, turning it so your palm was facing upright, then pressed the small disc into your palm. Their hands completely covered yours. You could feel the disc against your palm, thin but surprisingly sturdy.

“What is it?” you asked as they withdraw their hands. You lifted the disc closer to your face to examine it. It was thin, strong, and pale colored. When you turned it in your hands, a pale stream of light illuminated it, turning it opalescent. Exactly like-

“It’s one of my scales,” they say. “If your ankle is worse tomorrow, you can just say my name to it and I’ll come to help you out.”

You blinked. “Really? But- are you sure?” Scales were strange things to give away. For the magically inclined, scales could be made to always be connected to their body, even when physically separated. If you said your name to the scale, they would know you were calling for them, no matter how far away you were.

They winked, golden eyes gleaming. “Say Tazriel, and I’ll come. I like making sure good people are well taken care of.” With no further explanation, they strolled off into the night. Their pale scales made them stand out against the gloom for a while before they finally faded into shadows.

You tucked the scale close to your chest as you hobbled the rest of the way home. It wasn’t far, and after resting for a few moments, you felt better. Though when you had to rummage through your freezer get the ice out, then stack your pillows to elevate your leg, then get comfortably settled in you seat only to realize you had to pee- well, maybe it would have been better to have a little help.

You fell asleep after some time of fitfully turning and shifting in your position. It was hard to find a comfortable sleeping spot with your ankle elevated. And apparently your sleeping body had no consideration for your health, because when you woke up, your ankle was no longer elevated, but twisted haphazardly under you. When you flexed it to get an idea of how fucked you were, pain rolled up your ankle and punched you in the gut. Okay. Pretty fucked.

It took a few tries to actually stand and hobble your way into the bathroom to really assess things. Your ankle was swollen and bruised and it hurt to put weight on it. Bad. You couldn’t assess whether or not it was broken, but it was sprained at a minimum. God dammit. You’d really wanted to avoid seeing a doctor. Maybe you could just give it time? If it healed on its own, everything would be fine, right? And if it didn’t get any better, then you could see a doctor. There was no reason to go to all the trouble when you hadn’t even given it a chance to heal. Right?

Part of you was aware that you were in denial and grasping at straws. A larger part of you was willing to accept anything that meant no doctor’s visit. So you hobbled your way back to bed, with a pit stop in the kitchen to stock up on food, and flopped back down, fully intending to stay in that spot all day.

As you did so, you saw something gleaming on the covers next to you. You scooped it up and- oh, right. The scale.

You rolled the little thing over in your fingers, enjoying how the light played off of its surface. It would be gorgeous to use on one of your projects- though they’d also probably be hard to get. Most people didn’t make a habit of handing out their scales, and even if you managed to find a seller, the quantity would be pretty small. Couldn’t be yanking out every one of your scales to sell, of course.

You rotated it in your hands, recalling their words from the night before. Say Tazriel and I’ll come. Interesting. That was a little unusual. People, as you’d already said, didn’t tend to go handing out their scales. On the other hand, they had seemed genuinely kindhearted and concerned, and you’d never heard a bad word about them. Though, to be fair, most of the words you heard about them tended to focus on how pretty they were. But still, people in this town were gossips, so if anyone had a problem with them, you were sure you’d have heard of it. But you’d also never heard of them handing out their scales like candy to anybody else. Bit of a mystery there.

After a few more moments of looking at the scale and considering, you turned and set it carefully on the table next to your bed. The offer was kind, but you were reluctant to drag anyone else into your mess. Maybe if it wasn’t feeling any better the next day, you would call them and ask for their help to get to the doctor.

You spent another boring day in bed, reading a couple of books and flipping through random videos on the scrynet. It was mind-numbing, and your hands were twitching by the end of it, but you didn’t really want to get out of bed. Eventually, you fell into a fitful, unrestful sleep.

When you woke, the pain in your ankle seemed to have dulled. Cocksure and overconfident, you swung out of bed, placed your feet on the floor, and collapsed when your bad ankle rolled under you and sent waves of pain up your leg.

Well. Crap. Had it somehow gotten worse overnight? How was that even possible? You blinked back the sting of tears from your eyes and twisted to look at it. Bruises still mottled the skin around the ankle, and it was definitely still swollen, though it wasn’t quite as bad as it had been the day before. You probed the skin with the tips of your fingers and hissed. Pain. Bad enough to make your stomach tighten. Once you were actually braced for the pain, you could put some weight on it, though it wasn’t fun.

Son of a bitch. You’d really been hoping it would get better. You considered your options as you limped to the kitchen to get something to eat. It wasn’t so bad to put weight on, you reasoned. It was painful, sure, but a little pain wasn’t so bad. You could handle it.

You sat down and examined your ankle once more. Like, okay. It was probably bad, and you should probably go to a doctor. But it wasn’t like you couldn’t walk at all. That would be the point where it got bad, right? If you couldn’t walk at all. You could still keep off it for a while, for the most part, and then it would heal up. Why go to the doctor if they were just going to tell you to rest your ankle, which is what you were already doing?

(Again, there was that part of you that recognized you were just making excuses and that you really should just go to a doctor. But the bigger part of you still wanted to avoid going, and that bigger part was winning out.)

You ate and dragged yourself back to your room, collapsing onto your bed. Okay. Another day in bed. That wasn’t so bad. And you could probably try to work at least a little. You sat down for most of it. That wouldn’t bother your ankle too much, right?

Just as you were making the firm decision that you were probably fine to work, a gleam of light on your night table caught your eye.

You shuffled a little closer and reached out. As your fingertips met the light, you felt something small and disc-like. The scale. You curled your fingers around it and brought it up to your face.

It was definitely glowing. The entire thing shone like it was reflecting a strong beam of sunlight. You squinted at it, rotating it back and forth. Weird. Did scales do that often? Did it mean something? You’d barely gotten any instructions on how it worked. Maybe you could do some scrying later, see if you could find anything on scales. Though you still weren’t completely sure of their species, which might make it harder. They were probably a feathered dragon, right? Harpies didn’t really have scales like this.

The scale gleamed, sending a beam of light directly into your eyes. You winced. Was it getting brighter? How were you supposed to make it stop? You ran your thumb over it a few times, hoping to maybe trigger something, but nothing happened. You grimaced. Whatever. You could figure it out later.

As you grabbed a couple books to stash the scale under, so that maybe it wouldn’t burn your eyes out while you were trying to sleep, your mind wandered back to what they’d said. Call their name… “Tazriel,” you muttered absently as you placed the books on top of the scale. That was how they’d said it, right? It was a pretty name. You still felt a little awkward about calling them, but maybe you could stop by once your ankle was feeling better and let them know you appreciated the gesture. Yeah, that seemed the best way to handle things.

The decision firm in your mind, you settled back into bed and tried to ignore your ankle so you could fall back asleep.

You were just about to fall back asleep when the sound of someone knocking on your front door made you open your eyes. It was a polite knock, not like someone was banging down your door for an emergency. Maybe it was a delivery driver. They’d leave the package eventually.

You closed your eyes again. Only to open them again when the knock sounded once more. It was a little more urgent this time, though still not what you would consider an emergency knock. You considered getting up, but if it was a visitor, they would eventually figure out you weren’t home or something. It was fine.

The silence lasted a little longer this time, so you were settled back comfortably by the time the knock sounded again. This time, it was distinctly louder and rushed. You gritted your teeth. Okay. This person was not taking a hint, which either meant they were really obtuse or they had something important for you. But getting to the door meant getting out of bed and you were awfully reluctant to do that. The silence stretched on as you debated the finer points of getting out of bed versus staying nice and comfy.

After a couple minutes of silence, you realized the person at your door hadn’t knocked again. They’d wandered off, presumably. That was good. You could just lie back and relax and they would come back later if they needed anything else.

And then you heard the click and creak of the doorknob turning and your door- your FRONT DOOR- opening.

The indignation was enough to get you out of bed. Common sense stopped you from getting further than the hallway. You had a busted ankle- what were you going to do against a (possibly armed) thief? At best, maybe you could look so pathetic, they’d feel bad and leave.

Then your name, called in a semi-frantic voice, floated down the hall. That was surprising. Why would someone who broke into your house be calling for you? You hobbled a few steps out into the main entranceway of your house and stopped in surprise.

You knew both of the people standing in front of your open door, one more familiar than the other. The more familiar figure was your neighbor, a twitchy, if also kindly, water elemental. The less familiar figure was your savior from the other night, Tazriel. Their face lit up at the sight of you. “You’re all right?”

You shifted your weight onto your good leg and positioned your bad ankle so the swelling was not as noticeable. “I’m fine. What are you doing in my house?”

Tazriel blanched. It was hard for scaled creatures to blush, but they seemed to be trying their level best. “You called me.”

You blinked. “I did?” Almost as soon as the words had left your mouth, you remembered sliding the scale away and mumbling ‘Tazriel’ a moment before your fingers actually broke contact. Oops. “Oh. I did.”

Tazriel seemed to be regaining their confidence. “I was worried, of course, so I came by, but you didn’t answer your door. Fortunately, your neighbor did, and she said she had a key, so…” They trailed off, looking toward your neighbor. You stare at her too. She awkwardly rubs one of her arms.

“They seemed really worried, and you did tell me to use your key in emergencies,” she mumbled. She cast a shy glance sideways at Tazriel and you did not roll your eyes, but it was a near thing. Okay, they were pretty good looking, but you weren’t pleased that your neighbor was such a sucker for a pretty face that she would let them into your house.

“They’re quite kind,” Tazriel said, smiling at your neighbor, and she practically turned into steam. “They were worried about you too, once I told them what was going on.”

“Right,” you said. “So what’s going on?”

Tazriel blinked at you like it should be obvious. “You called for me and then didn’t answer the door. I thought you were really hurt.”

Oh. Actually, that wasn’t a strange conclusion to come to. “W-well, that’s very kind of you, but I’m, uh. Actually doing fine. It was sort of an accident that I called you. I’m sorry for disturbing you. But you don’t need to stay.”

They gave you a critical look, gaze roving over your body and fixing on your ankle. You shuffled it further behind your good leg to avoid their look, but this seemed to backfire. Their gaze grew more concerned. “You’re not putting any weight on your ankle.”

“I am,” you said, and gingerly placed your bad ankle on the ground. You leaned on it until your eyes were watering with pain and hoped they weren’t paying too much attention. “I’m fine. You can go back to your life.”

They narrowed their eyes, but didn’t say anything. For a moment, you were certain they were actually going to take your advice and leave, but then your neighbor piped in with, “You’ve been holding yourself all stiff since we got here. You’re in a lot of pain, aren’t you?”

You shot her a glare as Tazriel gave you a new, more appraising look. “You are tense.” Their expression grew alarmed. “You shouldn’t be standing, should you?”

“I really have to assure you that I’m fine,” you said, but Tazriel and your neighbor were already dismissing your protests out of hand.

“Last time you told me you were fine, you had such bad food poisoning you could barely keep anything down,” your neighbor said. Tazriel brushed past the both of you and into the kitchen to fetch a chair. “I didn’t find out until two days later when I ran into you at the store looking like death warmed over.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you muttered. “And what were you going to do about it? It was food poisoning. You just have to wait it out.”

“You could have asked me to check on you. I would have done it. Or you could have asked me to take you to a doctor.”

You grimaced. Tazriel set a chair down next to you and gestured for you to sit in it. Once you were down, they crouched and peered at your ankle. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?” they asked. “This looks bad.”

“It looks worse than it is,” you said hurriedly. “I really don’t need all this fuss. I’m just going to stay home until it feels better.”

Tazriel looked up. “You’re not going to see a doctor?”

“I don’t need one,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

“You do,” Tazriel insisted. They probed at your ankle with their fingertips and you nearly jumped out of your skin. “You can’t walk on this. And it must hurt a lot.” They looked up at you and you were surprised by exactly how much concern was evident in their eyes. Their feathered ears twitched. It was ridiculous how cute it was.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you said, but their gaze was really hard to resist. “I just… I don’t want to go to the doctor.” Before they could comment on that, you braced a hand against the nearby wall and used the leverage to haul yourself to your feet. Well. To one of your feet. The other was still being held by Tazriel. “And they’ll just tell me to ice and rest it, which is what I’m already doing! Thank you all very much for your concern, but I think I’ll be heading back to doing that, so unless there’s anything else I can help you with…” You gave a pointed look to Tazriel. They were still holding your foot. They did not let go.

“You need a doctor,” they said, enunciating every word carefully, like you were a child or hard of hearing. “Your ankle could be broken.”

Your shoulders drooped a bit. “You don’t think it’s that bad, do you?”            “I don’t know,” Tazriel said. “I can’t say. Because I’m not a doctor. Which is why you need one.” They folded their feathered ears back against their head and fixed you with their brilliantly golden eyes. It wasn’t quite a puppy-dog look, though it was pleading. Come now, their expression seemed to say. I want you to be all right. Won’t you let me help you? Their thumb was also tracing circles on your calf, which was making it surprisingly hard to focus.

“It’s… I just…” Your protests died on your tongue. They were just looking at you, but it was making your head feel sort of funny. Were they using their prettiness to hypnotize you? Was that what this was? Weaponized prettiness?

“If you’re nervous about going to the doctor, I could go with you,” Tazriel suggested. Their feathered ears perked up and you cursed internally. Somehow, that made them even cuter. “I know a doctor, actually. I could take you to her, if you’d like.”

They were giving you a look. An eager look, like they were already proud of themselves for having solved the problem. But you also got the impression they were not leaving here taking ‘no’ for an answer. They were going to be leaving here with you on a trip to the doctor’s or you were going to have a new roommate.

“Eh… uh…” You tried to think of a way out of this. They’re pretty, your brain supplied unhelpfully. It’d be nice to spend more time with them. Your own mind was even turning against you. “I guess that’d be… okay.”

They beamed. The fact that they looked even prettier when they did that was like adding insult to injury. “Wonderful! I’ll need to call ahead to let her know we’re coming, but she owes me a favor, I’m sure she’ll set some time aside for you.” They scrambled to their feet and practically skipped outside. You and your neighbor watched them go.

“Lucky,” she said in an undertone.

“Lucky?” you muttered back. “For breaking my ankle?”

She rolled her eyes. “For having someone so worried about you. Do you realize how frantic they were when they were banging on my door? It was kind of sweet.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that, so you didn’t. Tazriel stepped back into the room at that moment, sparing you the indignity. “She says we can come in whenever we want,” they said. “But we’ll have a better chance of getting in right away if we go as soon as possible.”

“Just give me a couple minutes,” you said. “I just… need to brush my teeth.” Ever since hurting your ankle, your self-care activities, otherwise known as basic hygiene, had kind of gone down the drain. No one had commented on it so far, but the longer you were in the presence of a water elemental and the perfectly polished Tazriel, the worse you felt about it.

You hobbled to the bathroom and did as quick of a spot clean as you could. Once you’d determined that it was as good as it was going to get in the time frame allowed, you pulled on some slightly-nicer clothes and headed back out to Tazriel.

Your neighbor was gone by that point, and Tazriel was waiting for you in the doorway. “Are you ready to go?” they asked, fixing you with a cheerful smile. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah.” There was a part of your mind insisting that, despite the indignity of it, you could probably get away with slamming the door in their face and burying yourself under the blankets until everyone forgot about this doctor thing. But that would be hideously embarrassing and you weren’t sure it would stop Tazriel anyway. They seemed rather determined. “Let’s get this over with.”

Tazriel nodded cheerily, then took a step forward, holding their arms out awkwardly. You took a fumbling step back, hands up. “Hey, woah, what are you doing?”

They paused. “You can hardly walk,” they said, as though that were completely obvious. “But I can.”

You did not lower your arms from their defensive position. “You’re going to carry me?”

They looked like at you like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. “Yes, of course. I can handle it.”

“Uh,” you said, looking them up and down uncertainly. “You’re sure?”

“Of course,” they said. To their credit, they sounded extremely confident. “You’re rather small, aren’t you? I can carry you.”

You felt weirdly embarrassed about being referred to as ‘small.’ “Uh. Well.” Why wasn’t your brain working? You couldn’t string together any thoughts! “I guess, if you’re okay with it…”

They grinned and scooped you up like you were a couple of grapes. You looped your arms around their neck. It was impressive how effortless the lift seemed to them. “Comfortable?” they asked. You made a nondescript sound that roughly meant, ‘as comfortable as it is possible to be right now.’ Apparently, they could interpret that, because they took off at a slow jog.

You’d been expecting they would take one of the trains, but they ended up heading in a completely different direction than the local station. It was slightly unnerving, but they seemed to know what they were doing. You did your best to relax back into their arms. While you usually felt rather uncomfortable about having someone carry you, this felt somehow reassuring. Maybe because they were strong enough that there was no wavering of their grip or unsteadiness.

They jogged for a little while, turning down some of the main roads. People looked at the sight with some interest, though few people actively stared, which you appreciated. After turning around a few corners, they slowed down and approached a decently large building painted in white and pink. They shifted you in their arms a bit before pulling open the glass door.

It definitely smelled like a doctor’s clinic when you stepped inside, with that stinging scent of antiseptic. A few other people were milling around the room. You couldn’t get a good look at most of them, but there was someone standing in a pile of feathers in the corner. You resisted the urge to snicker. There was always someone who took a feather-enhancing potion during the Avieras Festival and then had to deal with the consequences a few days later.

Tazriel ignored the front desk and headed toward the exam area. They nudged the door open with their tail and glanced around as they stepped inside. “Doctor Gella?”

There was a moment of silence, then a middle-aged woman wearing thick spectacles poked her head out of a room a few doors down. She had an enormous set of ram’s horns sprouting from her temples and a thin tail tipped with a trident. Oh, and bright yellow skin.

“Tazriel,” she said, nodding at them. “I assume this is the patient.” She gave you a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t you step into an exam room and put them down?”

The exam room was pretty standard doctor fare- a sink and a few cabinets, a machine for checking blood pressure, a couple of uncomfortable-looking chairs up against the far wall, and a bulky exam table covered in paper taking up a majority of the space. Tazriel set you down upon it and took up one of the seats. Dr. Gella gave them a pointed look. “It was kind of them to bring you here, Tazriel, but I’m afraid I can’t let you stay in the exam room while they’re being examined. Unless you would feel more comfortable if Taz stayed?” She directed the last question toward you.

“I think I can handle it on my own,” you said. Ever since you’d started smelling the antiseptic, your heart rate had picked up, and sitting on the crinkly exam table wasn’t doing it any favors. Why did doctor’s offices all have to look the same? But you’d been through this before. You didn’t need anyone to hold your hand. Tazriel nodded amiably and headed for the door.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” they said. They gave you an amiable wink, then the door closed behind them.

The room felt a lot more confining all of a sudden.

Dr. Gella rolled a wheeled chair up to the edge of the exam table. “They’re quite sweet, but they forget the most obvious things sometimes. One of the reasons they could never work here.”

“Did they want to?”

“They were interested in one point. That’s how we got to know each other- they volunteered here when they were younger. But, as I’ve said, they’re a bit too distracted to be an attentive healer. Their knowledge of anatomy is impeccable, though. Hence why they ended up being a butcher.” Dr. Gella looked at your legs. “Ah. I see that’s the bum ankle they mentioned?”

You shifted, embarrassed. “Yeah. They told me I needed to come here, but…” You trailed off. Dr. Gella gave a half-smile.

“Not a fan of the doctor’s?” she asked. You shook your head. “That’s all right. Plenty of people aren’t. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

She shifted your leg up onto the exam table and slipped off your shoe and sock. The shoe was easy, since your ankle was swollen enough that it didn’t go on all the way. The sock was a little harder, and no matter how gentle she tried to be, it still hurt. You gritted your teeth and struggled as hard as you could not to kick her.

“There we go,” she said, setting your sock next to you. “Hm.” She grimaced. “I can see why they wanted you to come in.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” you said, a little sheepish. Dr. Gella hummed disapprovingly.

“It’s definitely a bad sprain, at minimum. How long ago did you injure it?”

“Couple of days?” you said, shrinking back a little more sheepishly when Dr. Gella frowned.

“It might not have been that bad at first, but it’s certainly become worse thanks to not treating it right. I’m going to have to get a brace for it, and you’ll have to stay off it for a few weeks at least.” Her eyes glowed, suggesting she was using some kind of seeing-through spell. “Yes, it doesn’t look like there’s anything broken, but it’s certainly bruised and damaged and walking on it will make it worse.”

“Do I have to wear a cast?” you asked, hesitant.

“It’ll be a soft cast,” Dr. Gella said. You grimaced. “That bothers you?”

“I just… don’t like it.” You shifted in place, wincing when that shifted your ankle. “It bothers me.”

Dr. Gella smiled sympathetically. “If you don’t want to wear the cast, I’m certainly not going to make you do so. But it is my medical recommendation that you do so, as it will make sure that things heal better.”

You didn’t say anything. Yes, you needed to wear the cast. Yes, the idea of doing so made you feel sick to your stomach. You weren’t sure how to reconcile those emotions. Dr. Gella watched your expression, taking in your uncertainty, then forced a small smile.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I have another patient that shouldn’t take too long. You can take some time to think it over. If you’re too uncomfortable for it, then I can just give you some instructions for taking care of it, and if you feel better about the cast, we can put it on after I’m done with that patient. Sound good?”

You let out a relieved breath. At the very least, it got you out of the exam room so you could take a breather. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Certainly. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Dr. Gella helped you out of the room and offered you a set of crutches. Together, you hobbled back to the waiting room.

Tazriel was waiting in a seat close to the door when you stepped out. You nodded to Dr. Gella and went to sit next to them as she called in her next patient. Tazriel tilted their head, taking in your crutches and swollen ankle. “Are you done?”

“I’m not,” you said. “It’s… I’m…” You fumbled over your next words. Tazriel waited patiently. “Ugh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right. Dr. Gella was right, I don’t have to know. It’s your health,” Tazriel said. “I can leave now, if you want me too, and as long as you have a way home-”

“You don’t have to leave,” you said. Talking to them was at least a distraction from both the throbbing pain in your ankle and the swirling anxiety in your chest. “I don’t like doctor’s offices.”

Tazriel nodded. “I sort of guessed. From the way you were acting about having to go.” They hesitated. “I know I probably overstepped, bringing you here, but you really did need someone to see to that ankle.”

“Yeah, you were right. I actually do need a cast on this thing.” You shifted your ankle and immediately winced. Bad idea. “But I can’t… bring myself to get one.”

Tazriel was silent for a moment, until it was clear you weren’t going to say more. “What bothers you about it?”

You hesitated. “When I was a kid, I screwed up my arm. It was a pretty bad break, from what I remember. And they put a cast on it. I complained about the cast a lot. It was tight and itchy and I didn’t like wearing it at all.”

Tazriel nodded. “Most people don’t.”

“And then, like a week and a half into wearing the cast, it started to hurt. Really badly. I complained about it, but I’d already been complaining about it so much, everyone thought I was just continuing with that. It kept getting worse, but it took another week before anyone believed me enough to take my back to the doctor. And then the doctor was really dismissive when we did go in, so it was a few more days before my parents finally got anyone to pay attention to what was actually happening.” You took a deep breath. “The cast was too tight. And there was some damage to my hand by the time they figured it out and took it off.”

Tazriel blinked, recoiling a little. You saw them sneak a glance at your hand, subtly trying to see what was wrong without being too obvious about it. “The damage wasn’t permanent, thankfully,” you said, stretching out your arm to show them. “There’s a little scar here, but after physical therapy, I can move my hand pretty much the same as anyone else. There’s a little residual pain, on occasion, but it healed well.”

“That’s why you were so fussy about going to the doctor,” Tazriel said. “You didn’t want another cast.” They curled their tail across their lap. “I… I’m sorry for dragging you here.”

“Ah, it’s not your fault,” you said. “You were right. I did need to go. And I wasn’t going to do it unless someone kicked my ass.” You glanced at the door to the exam rooms. “The doctor said I could go without a cast, if I was really uncomfortable having one on, but I really do need one. I don’t want to screw up my ankle any worse than it already is.”

Tazriel sat for a moment, their tail settled across their lap. They were plucking at their feathers. A little further up their tail was the tail band you’d given to them. It had clearly been taking off and cleaned at one point, maybe even polished because it was even shinier than when you’d had it. “You’re still wearing that,” you said. Tazriel glanced toward the band and gave a faint smile.

“Oh, yes. It’s quite beautiful. I appreciate it.” They ran their finger over it, relishing the little textural differences. “I truly wasn’t expecting a gift.”

You laughed, a little embarrassed by how warm their voice had become. “I’m sure people trip all over themselves to give you free samples. You must be swimming in them by now.”

“Sometimes,” they admitted with a sheepish grin. “I try not to accept them too often. I don’t like to take things without paying for them. It feels unfair.”

You nudged their side playfully. “Except when you’re taking from me, huh? Trying to drive me out of business?”

Their face scrunched up in a strange way. “Eh… well…” They ran their hands up and down their tail. “I had… I had a bit of an idea about that. I was hoping perhaps I could offer to pay you back… by taking you out to dinner.”

You thought for a moment. “You wanted to ask me out to dinner?” They nodded. “Why dinner?”

They blinked, like they hadn’t thought that question would be the next one. “It wouldn’t have to be dinner, I suppose. That’s just traditional. But if you didn’t want dinner, I suppose coffee would work as well? Or if there’s something else you’d like to do?”

Your brain chugged for a moment before everything clicked together. They were asking you on a date. Right? Or maybe you were reading them wrong? You’d never been good with those sort of subtleties- maybe they meant something else? Like a friendly dinner? But if you interpreted it as a friendly dinner and they didn’t, then they would be hurt if you treated it like a friendly date, right? But if you tried to clarify and they weren’t asking you on a date, that would be so embarrassing, and maybe they’d be mad at you for being presumptuous about them asking you out…            You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t realize you were staring at them until Tazriel cleared their throat. “Er. I- You don’t have to say yes. I thought it might be charming, I suppose? But I suppose it is a little too pushy, so don’t feel obligated to-”

“No, no! I want to!” you said hurriedly. You couldn’t just sit there and let them feel bad! Although, now you were going to have to find a way to determine if this was a date or not without letting them know that you weren’t sure what you’d signed up for.

It seemed like answering in the affirmative was the correct choice, because their entire face brightened. “Really? Ah, that’s a relief. I’m afraid I’m not all that good with these sort of things- people assume I am, I think, but I’m really not used to it at all.” They gave you a particularly rough pat on the shoulder, which jostled you enough to make your ankle ache. You grimaced and they pulled their hands back, tucking them against their body. “Sorry. We can, uh. Hold off on the dinner until you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah,” you muttered. “I… suppose I should get the cast. To make sure that everything heals all right.”

They looked uncertain. “Are you going to be okay with that?”

“It’ll be scary, but I’m a grown-up. I can handle it.” Despite your words, your stomach churned. It wasn’t even going to be a hard cast, like the one you’d had as a kid, but the idea of something pressing in tight, restricting you like that… how were you going to sit through the procedure and just deal with it?

An impulse darted from your brain to the tip of your tongue before you could think better of it. “Will you sit with me when I get the cast on?”

Tazriel’s ears fluffed up and their eyes went wide. It was hard to tell if they were surprised or pleased to be asked. Or both. “You want me to go in with you?” Their tail gave one large wag before they settled it back into their lap. “I don’t know if I’m allowed.”

“If I say you can be in there, then you can be in there,” you said. “I’d just like someone else in there with me in case I, like. Freak out or something.”

They looked at you for a long moment and you were just about to rescind the offer out of embarrassment when they nodded. “Of course. I don’t mind at all.”

Their agreement couldn’t have come at a better time, because the exam room door swung open again and Dr. Gella stepped out. “There you are,” she said, nodding in your direction. “Have you made up your mind?”

You nodded. ��I’d like Tazriel to come back with me. Just as, uh. Moral support. If that’s all right.”

Dr. Gella looked between the two of you with slightly raised eyebrows, but all she said was, “There’s some paperwork you’ll have to sign, but I don’ t think there will be any problem with it.”

Tazriel gave a single squeeze to your shoulder and followed you and Dr. Gella back to the proper exam room. You hopped back up on the table and signed a few forms Dr. Gella provided for you while Tazriel hovered a bit awkwardly nearby. “Now, I’m going to set your leg in place with magic and form the cast around it,” Dr. Gella said as soon as the paperwork was safely stored away. “That will make the most comfortable and best-fitting cast. But you’re going to have to try and not move.”

“I can try,” you said. The phantom sensation of being held in a vice grip, unable to pull your leg away even as it was clamped down on tighter and tighter and tighter hit you and you took an unsteady, gulping breath.

Tazriel moved closer so their shoulder was brushing against yours. Even with the high examination table, they had to bend over a bit. “Where were you thinking of going for dinner?”

“F-for dinner?” you said, distracted. Dr. Gella carefully worked a disinfectant and cleaning spell over your ankle, causing a race of cold tingles over your skin. The magic sparked and seemed to solidify as she shifted the magic to start holding your leg still.

“Hey.” Tazriel’s voice dropped a little, adopting a soothing register. “Don’t focus on that, okay? Look at me.”

You turned your head to catch Tazriel’s golden eyes. They beamed. “There you go! Now, I asked you about dinner, remember?” Their face took on a thoughtful expression. “Oh, but you weren’t sure about dinner, were you? I’m happy to go with whatever you’d like.”

“U-um.” The grip around your ankle was tightening, enough to put pressure on the swelling. It ached awfully. “I- I guess… lunch would be fine?” Dinner was too fancy, right? Getting lunch seemed much more low-key. Though, if they were asking you on a proper date, dinner would be more traditional, right?

“Lunch works,” Tazriel said amiably. “Anywhere in particular you want to go?”

“I’m not sure.” You hazarded a glance at your ankle, but before you could get a proper look at it, Tazriel was calling your attention back.

“There’s a cute little bistro near my workplace. If you have no objections, we could go there. Have you ever been? I don’t remember the name, but it’s a pale green building with ivy crawling up the side.”

“I think I’ve seen that,” you said. The grip around your ankle had stopped tightening, but the pressure was still there. You couldn’t flex it at all. Your head thundered erratically. “It looks nice. I’ve never been there.”

“I’ve only been there once, for breakfast, but they had quite a good egg sandwich.” Your gaze started to wander back toward your leg and Tazriel squeezed your hand, drawing your attention back to them. “But they’ve got a lot of variety, so I’m sure you can find something you’ll like there.”

“Uh huh,” you murmured, still distracted. The magic was solidifying into a soft cast, molding itself to the shape of your leg. There wasn’t much pain, but the feeling was still unsettling.

Tazriel licked their lips, their tail flicking rapidly. “Ah, um… Maybe you could talk about how you made this?” They swung their tail around to show off the clip still set against their scales. “It’s lovely. I was very surprised you were willing to give it to me.”

“Well, it is good business practice to make sure customers come back,” you said. “And you were a nice customer.” And maybe the fact that they were cute hadn’t hurt either. Had you actually been flirting with them without realizing it? Well, you weren’t that good at flirting when you were trying at it. Maybe flirting while you weren’t trying made you better at it. It had gotten you a maybe-date, hadn’t it?

“There we are.” Dr. Gella stepped back to examine her handiwork. “Well done. It’s all set.”

You looked down at your leg. It was booted up in a deep blue material, making one of your legs significantly heavier and more awkward than the other. You could move your leg with a decent amount of effort, but you couldn’t really flex your ankle. Gingerly, you slid off the table. Tazriel caught your arm immediately, letting you lean against their body.

“Careful,” Dr. Gella said. You couldn’t tell whether she was talking to you or Tazriel. “Your ankle’s still going to be fragile, so I’d suggest using crutches and keeping as much weight off of it as possible. I’ll write you a script for some pain medication. Take it easy for at least two weeks, then come back in and we can reassess.

“I will,” you said. “Thank you for all your help.”

She waved it off. “Of course. I’m always ready to help Tazriel’s friends.”

“Let me walk you back to your house,” Tazriel said. “Just to make sure you get back okay and have everything you need.” Their tail swayed back and forth eagerly. “And you still have my scale, right? You can call me if it gets worse or you need anything.”

Dr. Gella made a noise of surprise. “A scale, Tazriel? Really?” They paused, looking at her like they’d forgotten she was in the room. “I thought those were important to feathered dragons.”

That answered one of your questions. “I’ve never met a feathered dragon before,” you said, giving Tazriel a surprised look. They rubbed the back of their neck.

“I’m only three quarters- My grandma married a harpy. I’ve got a few more feathers than most feathered dragons.” They swayed their plumed tail back and forth, displaying the pretty feathers there. “And most modern dragons don’t hold to that old notion of scales being given to- you know. It’s convenient.”

“A seerstone is more convenient,” Dr. Gella said. You looked between them, feeling like you’d missed something important.

“What old notion?” you asked. Tazriel shook their head at Dr. Gella, who continued speaking as if she hadn’t seen them at all.

“It was an old tradition for dragons to give out scales to people they were interested in establishing a courtship with,” she said. Tazriel dropped their face into their hands. Their tail drooped to hit the ground with a dull thump. “Admittedly, courtship has fallen out of fashion, so it’s not quite as common anymore, but plenty of dragons still hold to the-”

“Okay, I think maybe you need to go home and rest,” Tazriel said, popping up from their hands and speaking much louder than was necessary for such a small room. They scooped you up over their shoulder with one arm and grabbed the crutches Dr. Gella had for you with the other.

“Be careful,” Dr. Gella said. “You don’t want to jostle their-”

“I’m always very careful,” Tazriel said in their too-loud voice. “I’ll see you another time, thank you.”

You awkwardly propped your head up from where it was hanging down Tazriel’s back. “Thank you, Dr. Gella.”

“Of course. If you need anything else, please give me a call. Just ask Tazriel for my contact information,” she said. Then Tazriel left the room and the door swung shut behind you.

You let yourself lay limply over their shoulder, ignoring the bewildered stares as you walked through the waiting room. Once you were outside and Tazriel’s embarrassed walk had slowed, you picked your head up again. “Perhaps you could give me an opportunity to walk on my own?”

Tazriel stuttered to a stop. “Oh. Yes.” They moved to the shadow of a building and carefully put you down so you could lean against the wall while they put the crutches down. “I shouldn’t have picked you up like that, I was just…” They trailed off.

“It’s fine,” you said, deciding to be polite and not call attention back to their embarrassment. Then you had a question and decided to do it anyway. “Um. So, the thing with the scale…” Tazriel immediately looked like they were considering making a run for it. “It would have been more convenient to use a seerstone, wouldn’t it? Why did you pick the scale?”

Tazriel really looked like they were hoping the ground would swallow them up, but, to their credit, they stood there and answered. “It.... isn’t used as a way to start courting anymore, but… there are certain connotations to it and there are a lot of old legends and…” They cleared their throat and stared firmly at the ground. “I was planning on asking you out. I just hadn’t quite plucked up the courage yet. The scale was more spur of the moment than anything. I didn’t want to ask you out in that moment, not when you were hurt, so I picked something that was similar, but not something you would recognize. I hoped it would maybe help me feel braver next time I saw you. And I suppose I thought maybe the scale would make it more likely for you to call me than just connecting with a seerstone.”

Well. That answered your other question. It was a date. A pleasant prickling sensation rolled through your chest. “I- I thought it was sweet,” you said, partially because it was true and partially so Tazriel didn’t look so painfully shy anymore. They smiled at that.

“Let’s get you home. And connect seerstones so we can actually plan everything out for our lunch.” Tazriel helped you get set up with the crutches and you began your slow journey back to your house.

It took a while to get back to your home, but Tazriel was a pleasant conversationalist. In fact, you were almost disappointed when they stopped at your front door.

“I’ll see you again,” they said. “Get some rest. If you need anything else, I’m available. By scale or seerstone.”

“I’ll call. I promise,” you said. “Thank you for everything.” You carefully balanced yourself on your crutches and reached one of your arms up toward them. They obligingly leaned closer. You took their face in your palm and tugged them in close for just long enough to press a kiss to their cheek.

They didn’t make a sound, but their tail and ear feathers fluffed up. “I’ll call you,” you said. They nodded rapidly. Grinning, you stepped back into your house. You needed to rest up your leg. Once you were healed, you had a date to go on.

[the-fae-folk]

What happens to humans who are spirited away to the Faerie realm?

Spirited away? What an interesting phrase. There are three main methods humans have of entering the realm of Faerie. The First, and most unlikely, is that the human knows a direct path, gate, or postern of some kind that will grant them entry into that entirely different world, to cross the boundary into the beyond with full intention and knowledge of what they will find there. They know the dangers, they understand the risk, and yet they will follow their own road, making their own choices. The Second method is accidental. A person wandering in a place where the separation between worlds is thin, and the conditions for crossing are right. Most often they simply wander through, never even noticing something is wrong until it's far too late to turn back, never realizing that somehow they've gone astray until the familiar has twisted into the strange and unknown before their very eyes. An ordinary forest behind their house quietly gives way to a forest with much bigger trees, stranger creatures, and is much much more ancient than anything that should be able to exist still on earth. Or an alleyway you slip down to hide from the cops you know will invent a reason to arrest you because you're black; if the alleyway is covered with vines creeping over an old wood fence, if it becomes dark and hard to see, with the grime under your feet silently changing from pavement and cement into earth rich and green, you might not notice it until you step out from the old ruin of a faerie dwelling and into the light beyond. Stepping from one world to another can be swift, seamless, and easier than crossing a stream of water. Yet sometimes it isn't so easy. It could take many coincidences and pure chance to open a way. Patterns, rituals, stories. These are elements of magic, the persuaders of perception, the interpreters of reality. Much is tied to such things, whether we recognize it or not. Our morning ablutions are a ritual, so is the song and dance a person might play if they work in retail, and so too is the choices of entertainment we make. Ritual and pattern, choices to create reasons, reasons to make choices, and the inability to see when we are caught in a ritual we cannot easily escape. Some stories we tell ourselves, or write in books to tell others long after ourselves, show glimpses of these rituals and patterns, the way we think, the way we understand, the way we create. And sometimes those patterns and rituals will lead us to other worlds, often by mistake, tracing the path unintentionally by fulfilling necessary requirements. Touching certain stones in a certain pattern, filling a certain fountain with water from a certain spring, saying the correct words in the correct order. Coincidences, but not impossible ones, just very unlikely. Yet the unlikely happens more than you could ever imagine.

The Third method for humans to enter Faerie is the one you so whimsically name as being "spirited away". Many humans who come this way would agree with you, it certainly feels as if one is spirited away. But I would call it another name, one with fewer positive connotations. Abduction, kidnapping. Whether they are tricked, or lured past a border. Whether they come of their own will because of false promises and the secret intentions of others. If they are threatened or their loved ones are threatened. If they are simply taken, directly and against their will. These are ways in which they could enter into Faerie. It is, tragically, the most common way to reach Faerie. But your question of what happens to them? Many things happen. Each dependent on the reasons and nature of the Fae being who brings a human into a world apart. Sometimes the intentions are for good reasons, though those can often cause just as much pain as cruelty if you're not careful. But far more likely the intentions are not kind, and do not have anything but maleficent intent. Humans are taken and forced to act as distractions, toys, playthings. They are dressed in fancy clothing, paraded about in front of everyone, and then left in an empty room and forgotten about. They are not seen as people, they are seen as pets, and some are not even afforded that luxury, but are seen as things. Objects to possess, but not anything remotely resembling a person. Other humans are given a less glittering cage, put to work and told directly that they have been enslaved. Even here the language used is tricky. "Seven years and a day" and "You agreed to our deal, now you must hold up your end of the bargain" or " Can't break your word, that would have consequences". Child, the Fae are beings who have had time out of human comprehension to reflect and study the nature of words and meaning. To manipulate, to hide, to pretend... it is second nature to them. They can do it without even a single lie, deceiving you through your own creation of meaning. Every word your captors would say to you in order to convince you that you have an obligation to be there, that you must work for them, that you got yourself into this, that you had free will and choice in the matter... every word is meant to draw you deeper into their deception while still being the truth. They will tell you this, if you ask, and laugh at your expression. What fun their little game. And even when you know the rules, you can't stop playing. You can't leave. You can't break the bargain. Because the truth is what it always was, you never had a real choice to begin with. Even the choices you were offered were those given by the faerie luring you to your doom, options between one bad choice and another. Some rare and lucky few have fought for a different fate. Through the kindness of others and their own inner strength, as well as luck so incredibly unlikely that it's almost its own kind of magic, they managed to create a different way of living with the Folk. These folk live many different lives. Some travel and live with courts, others have found the parents they always needed, some have gained the respect of the fae they knew, others have shown incredible wit and cleverness in somehow tricking the tricksters, and some very very few have somehow managed to find real love and friendship among the Folk.

But these lives, though glamorous, are in no way easy. They are filled with danger at every turn, with disaster and heartbreak and the strain of living in a world and with a people that are not made for humans, that barely even understand what it means to be a human or a mortal in general. Our human world is filled with so much darkness and strife, so much so that many would find the idea of living in another world enticing. I too have felt that, I too dream of seeing something wondrous and strange, something otherworldly and magical. But a life lived in Faerie, especially if you had no real choice in that life, is hardly a life at all. It would be a battle every moment of every day, a fight to maintain anything of yourself or your will, anything of you at all. A fight to survive, a fight to even exist as anything with agency, as a person. We fight many such battles here today, in our very human world, and yet there are moments of rest, moments where we can draw a breath and pause to gather our strength and remember ourselves. No such rests exist for us there, where everything and everyone is alien, where even their culture and way of thinking is so unlike ours. Even though there is much they imitate, and much we share, it would be a struggle that few could truly imagine to break past the differences that would assault you at every turn. Many die. Are killed or simply give up the will to live. Another casualty of Faerie, the land of the deathless, where death waits patiently for those who do not belong. Some go utterly mad, losing their sanity to an untold number of things. Eldritch beings or things their minds cannot cope with, the trauma of cruelty or horrific conditions, or even the inability to tell after a time what is real and what is illusory or imaginary. Some escape, with or without their minds, and a lucky few manage to stay away till the end of their lives, while others are drawn or lured back in. And a few grow. When they faced the horrors of the unknown they simply... would not break. No matter how much pressure or stress, no matter the moral quandaries or the abuse or the fear, they simply would not, could not, be broken. This inner strength shows itself in the most unexpected of people, people you often think would be the easiest to break. If at last it shows itself in a person, they grow, they grow and they will not stop growing. Taking in everything, and telling it that it must serve for their self betterment whether it wants to or not. True, they might die or be killed, they might never escape captivity, but they have what many others never do. They have free will, they have their self that they themselves created. It is... a bright star in a dark and endless sky.

[nitrosodiumfmp]

Accessibility and Ethical Considerations

I'm not really sure about this research point. From looking at my plans for Sinister, none of it seems like it'd be overly violent - nothing above a Pegi 12, and thematically I can't see it causing a moral panic. Perhaps the fact you're going to the underworld could be an issue, but this isn't the 80s or whatever. We're far beyond the days of "satanic panic".

On an accessibility side, I could see things being an issue. As I play a lot of old games, I've seen the rougher-edged games from around the mid-90s, and their controls were not great. PageUp and PageDown for looking up and down is absolutely heinous button localisation - don't get me started on holding Alt to strafe. Not only is it unobtrusive, but it detracts from the game's overall enjoyment.

Then you have more legitimate accessibility issues, i.e. colourblindness filter, subtitles, control remapping, various controller support functions, et cetera. A lot of this is genuine functionality problems - for example, if your game needs you to shoot the glowing red part of the big bad boss enemy, and you see the entire enemy as varying shades of grey, you're not gonna have fun. Sometimes though, I feel like games gut themselves in order to be "accessible for everyone". For example, having a "story mode" difficulty setting, or an arachnophobia mode which turns your spider enemies into cats or whatever. A lot of games nowadays are terrified of having the player miss things, or having them figure out things for themselves. There was a whole debacle about "yellow tape" in games - if you play the modern RE games, anything interactible is wrapped with yellow tape so it's impossible to miss. That's more a result of a larger problem within modern game dev, and it's not massively relevant to my blog post right now. On the previous topic of difficulty in games, having an ability to turn the "game" part off and just focus on the story, I think is a bad idea. I've already expressed my contempt for walking simulators that don't use the inherent interactivity of their medium for anything cool.

Think about the game Pathologic. In that game, a lot of the story is decided by your actions - who you save, who you ignore, whose faction you side with, and more. There's a very real possibility of you running out of medicine if you try and save everyone, and at that point, it's game over. If all you did in Pathologic was walk across town and talk to people, it'd be even more mind-numbing - there'd be no risk to it, no chance for the story to interweave with the gameplay. For example, if on Day Ten or something, you went out into the town and there was no risk of you getting attacked by a robber, or infected by a cloud of miasma, or starving because you don't have enough money to buy food, you wouldn't feel that the town has gone to hell the same way you do in the game. If you're just some omnipotent floating head, observing the chaos but never feeling it, the game would legitimately suck. Games that know how to leverage their difficulty in conjunction with the story they try to tell are usually some of the best games, because they force you to be emotionally invested in the story. In the later hours of Far Cry, when you're siegeing the Archives, dark corridors packed with bloodthirsty special forces and mutant Trigen, if the game wasn't constantly kicking your ass, for lack of a better phrase, there would be no pacing, no escalation to the game. At the point, it's not a hardcore jungle adventure, it's a tropical getaway.

This is a point I'm particularly vocal about, because I see how Thief (2014) was ruined by the facets of modern game design, and how the franchise died as a result. Minimaps, objective markers, yellow tape, story mode difficulties, invincible NPCs, visibility meters, no matter what form these things take, I generally think they're not great. Obviously, accessibility is important, and I wouldn't want a game to be totally unapproachable to a person or group of people because of a disability, for example. But sometimes accessibility can override what a game seeks out to do.

[heartintact]

Waking up with someone next to her was the kind of scenario Marie used to fantasize about, back when she dreamt about her future instead of living in it. What it would be like—to lazily open your eyes and watch as the world came into focus, to feel someone's warmth enveloping you, to know that even in such an intimate, small moment, someone was there, choosing to begin their morning with you. But, of course, those were just scenes from the movies she got to earnestly watch growing up, and that quiet, irresistible love at the end of a good romantic comedy never told her what to do if she accidentally fell asleep in the arms of someone who wasn’t supposed to be in her bed in the first place. She liked it, though. That much was obvious in the delicate smile on her face when Jordan’s movements woke her up, lashes fluttering and a sigh escaping her because it was too early, on a Saturday, and her body was begging her to get a few more hours of sleep. No, that was a lie; her body was begging for a rerun of the night before and then a few more hours of sleep. If she played her cards right, she might actually get it, she thought as her eyes finally opened and her attention moved to her partner. Almost immediately, as if perfectly aware of her sleepy state, Jordan broke what she’d assumed was just a comfortable silence. “Hi, good morning—” Marie greeted, a soft pout starting to form in her lips, ‘cause they were right there, and still they weren’t touching her. “Yeah, I guess so. I mean, we were really tired, so it makes sense,” she huffed out a short laugh. Her confidence wavered then, ‘cause she noticed how visibly nervous they were, and Marie didn’t know what could have originated that feeling when they’d been so ecstatic the night before, so comfortable with each other. Maybe it was about staying the night, or about sleeping with her, or just about her in general, and if they were regretting it, she wouldn’t really know how to deal with that without a crushing feeling in her chest.

As she sat up on the bed, her hands assuring that the sheets would cover her frame, the images from the previous night wouldn’t stop flashing in her mind. Sometime, while she was sleeping, they’d shifted into their feminine form, so now they were there, looking impossibly pretty, making her wonder why she hadn’t gotten to see them like that the night before and why she hadn’t been allowed to discover what it was like to kiss them or to touch them when they changed yet. It was almost cruel, ‘cause soft, delicate curves she’d never been able to admire before were under covers that she was itching to pull away, and a voice inside of her told her she wasn’t exactly welcome to do so. All Marie could wish was to have the strength to lean over and press her lips against theirs again, to tell them not to waste what could be a perfectly good morning by being awkward and distant and ruining the atmosphere they’d built. But the risk was too high; she’d hate to come off as needy, like some lovestruck freshman who was too lustful and too curious to leave the bed for an entire day if she was given the chance. So, she forced herself to tear her gaze away from Jordan, standing up and then searching for the light blue pajama she’d put on after the shower—the one that hadn’t stayed on for long. “I don’t know if you have plans for today—here, this is yours.” She leaned to grab the tank top they’d dropped by the edge of the bed the night before. Offering it to them, it was impossible not to feel the electric sparks as her digits grazed theirs. Did they feel them too? Or was it all in her head? “But if you want to stay over for a bit longer, I could make us something to eat. I’m not a great chef, but we can’t be great at everything.” It was a poor attempt at a joke, and it wouldn’t surprise her if that fact was written all over her expression. “You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to,” she was quick to add, her cheeks burning because she was failing terribly at appearing cool. “But it could be fun.” Say yes; she didn’t allow herself to express, I’d love it if you said yes.

It didn't occur to them how rapacious they'd been until they were in the midst of the comedown, listening to the even, slow breaths as they passed between them, as if somehow they were connected through more than just their bodies. It almost made them laugh, the contrast between how desperate they'd been to finish inside her and this... slow, gentle moment. Jordan felt warm, seeking out the affection of Marie's soft skin pressed against theirs, her body draped over them as their hands ran down her back, hesitating at the lower part to rub their thumbs back and forth over the skin there. They wouldn't utter the thoughts in their mind, mostly because they were mostly a muddled mix of praises, some dirty and some gentle, maybe a little too sincere. It would be too much and despite how lost they'd gotten in all of this, they didn't want to risk what this was — what it should be, with sentiments that would seem insincere come the next time they met in class or the studio. Their length was still comfortably tucked inside her as they focused on other things, like getting their racing heartbeat under control or grappling with the vulnerability of laying so close. And touching her. One of their hands dragged back up, knuckles brushing over her cheek as they swallowed, faint smile dancing on their lips. The post-orgasm haze felt good, despite any reservations they may have had about being tucked so close to her. They met her kiss as she found their mouth again, a sigh exhaled against her lips as they pulled back.

They knew in the back of their mind it was time to go, time to slink back to their contrastingly cold apartment, shower and forget about it. Maybe Marie knew that too, deep down. Probably. They expected she'd roll off them soon so they wrapped their arms around her torso for just a second and when she spoke again, their brows lifted. Her in the shower was a thought Jordan approved of in general, but as she looked at them and offered to let them join, their gaze shot to the ceiling, almost incredulous. They should have said no. They knew that, they could have done it too, but they were too selfish, too greedy to do it. "Yeah." They nodded. "Okay." Despite how much they'd been running their mouth earlier, they were a touch subdued with her as they pulled out and helped both of them up. Gentle, mostly, mindful of the fact that they'd just fucked her so viciously in pursuit of their orgasm. They led her to the shower and took the lead on cleaning, soothing her skin and selfishly letting their hands wander her skin under hot water. By the time they returned to her bed, they were too tempted to stay, suggesting they put something on because Jordan would only sit there watching performances of the number they were rehearsing if they went back to their apartment. It was all unsubtle excuses and sitting a little too close on her bed, until Jordan found themselves distracting her from the movie they'd put on to touch her again.

By the time they passed out in her bed, they'd thoroughly let out all that pent up energy. Maybe that was how they'd ended up shifting in their sleep, turning over to wrap their arm more tightly around Marie as they instinctively became the big spoon. And maybe, even in their sleepy state they were a little grope happy, holding her chest as they fell asleep smirking at her reaction. They hadn't slept in the same bed as someone in so long and yet as they stirred from sleep and morning light poured into Marie's room, it took them a second to register the mistake they'd made. They frowned, nose brushing against brown skin as the realisation very, very slowly set in. "Fuck." They whispered, withdrawing their arm from Marie's waist. They woke up more swiftly then, turning onto their back as they felt hair brush against their cheeks. As if they weren't panicked about falling asleep in her bed, they'd woken up in their feminine form, too, leaving them blinking and offering a small, nervous smile as Marie seemed to wake beside them. "Uh, hey. Guess we knocked out."

[astaroth1357]

The Demon Brothers (Minus Asmo) at Their Worst  Pt. 1 (Lucifer, Mammon, Levi)

To the anons who gave me this idea, here it is. Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m all that happy to bring it to you, cause yikes this hurt to write. I’m grateful, however, because I believe I’m better for it. You shouldn’t always stay in your comfort zone. I left out Asmodeus for personal reasons. Regardless of my ability, given the nature of this challenge, I don’t feel comfortable with writing nor posting graphic content of sexual violence and chose to refrain from doing so. Please do not ask for this to be written at a later date, I will politely refuse then as I am now.

Check out the Masterlist for more.

Warnings: THEIR SINS HAVE BEEN TAKEN TO AN EXTREME (AND ALL THAT IMPLIES), Abusive/Controlling Relationships, Violence, Threat of Human Trafficking, Drowning, Angst, Regret, Suicidal Thoughts

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Intro: Maybe the MC should have known better. It should have sunk in a long time ago that they were in incredibly risky territory... They should have remembered that these men, though they call them friends, family, and perhaps even lovers, are still demons at their heart and core. Each of them are the embodiment of some of the worst behaviors man has to offer... MC, there are some people you just shouldn’t date, even if they love you, and now you suffer the consequences...

Lucifer

It’s not difficult to see how Pride can go awry. Self-confidence and dignity are wonderful things, but let them build up unchecked and all manner of petty, vindictive behavior can surface from within a person... 

Lucifer is far from immune to these flare ups. In fact, he falls victim to them so often that they may as well be ingrained in his personality. If you do anything that mocks or belittles him, even if it’s small, you’ll get a reaction. One that’s usually more severe than offense calls for...

The MC knew this going into a relationship with him. Supposedly, they knew all the no-go zones, too. Don’t make fun of him or Diavolo, don’t mention the Fall or his back, don’t call him a nag... That sort of thing.

What they hadn’t expected was the full brunt of the expectations suddenly leveled on them.

To say Lucifer was demanding would be an understatement. Everything about him had to be poised, powerful, collected, and perfect. Whether he realized it or not, these expectations bled into their relationship as well.

It started with him nitpicking little details... The way they stood, how they styled their hair, maybe a comment or two on what they ate. But it progressively got worse...

Suddenly he found problems with the way they dressed, what they listened to, what shows they watched, even how they greeted him in the mornings!

Before too long, nothing was right to him… Nothing was good enough. They were his other half, his biggest vulnerability, and in order for him to feel secure about that they had to be perfect… However Lucifer defined it.

They listened to him at first. Though his comments stung, he could be so loving too… He truly made them feel special. Like he wouldn’t be trying so hard if it were anyone but them...

But pretty words and kind actions could only go so far. They couldn’t completely erase the vitriol being tossed at them day after day… 

Slowly, with every little change, they could feel themselves start to dwindle… The choices they made felt foreign, the lifestyle they held became draining, and then one day they realized they didn’t even look right anymore… They were no longer the person they wanted to be. 

Lucifer was doing what he set out to do: train them, break them, then mold them into something new... So they could be perfect...

Just like him.

One day, however, they just couldn’t take being the person he wanted anymore...

He found them in their bedroom just before a party that Diavolo had been planning for weeks. Their hair wasn’t fixed and their clothes were a mess. His frustration nearly skyrocketed until he saw their face, vacant and broken, staring blankly straight ahead…

He couldn’t rouse them. They wouldn’t move no matter how much he shouted, threatened, or swore...

….they didn’t even budge when he begged…

His brothers eventually noticed something amiss and took them away. Their disgust with him was fairly evident… They probably would have tried something had he not been the strongest.

He had taken something wonderful and squashed it... Hurt someone he truly loved and ruined what they could have had to protect his damn ego…

Lilith, his brothers, and Satan especially… was everyone he tried to care for just bound to end up broken too…?

The MC’s recovery was slow. They had a lot of damage to repair and a whole new identity to build. He stayed out of it as much as he could, burying himself in work and seeing his brothers less and less...

He’d done enough damage to them anyway...

Mammon

The Greedy, Scummy Second-Born… Words to etch on his tombstone. Mammon had heard it all before from all angles: the demons above him, below him, hell even a passersby on the street would know his face and his laundry list of a rap sheet...

The one person who seemed to look past all that was MC.

He truly didn’t know what sort of karma he’d gained or luck he scored to have them in his life. They didn’t just see him at his best side, they made him want to fix his worst...

But that’s easier said than done, isn’t it?

The sad truth is Mammon is a gambler at heart. Oh he loves the money, the riches, fine things, and the bling but what else does he enjoy? The rush.

There’s nothing like that feeling of triumphant when the dice falls your way or the pure exhilaration of a close bet. When all cards are on the table and everything’s stacked against you, eking out that win can cause a head-rush better than any orgasm he’s ever had... The higher the stakes? The better the high.

But maybe he went a little too far…

It’s one thing to bet Grimm, he can make more of that in a night. It’s another to bet items, harder to replace but not impossible. People…? Well. If you want high stakes…

MC was actually with him that night when he made the “great” decision to bet his most valuable treasure on poker match. He was running out of Grimm and thought that the added risk would make him play better…

He thought wrong.

MC hadn’t been at the table at the time he made the deal, but they had come back just in time to see him get his ass handed to him. He lost. Spectacularly.

When the other demons there came over to encircle MC, it already felt like his world was crumbling down around him... The look of confusion, then hurt and betrayal in their eyes forever seared themselves into his memory.

“You bet me in a poker game?!”

It sounds almost comical, but he knew what the demons were planning to do to them wasn't. And just seeing the way his human’s wrist snapped when one of the men wrenched their arm from them confirmed it.

He wouldn’t let them get away with that. When the threats escalated to violence, he took his share of punches but in the end he was left standing.

The MC was furious. He had just whittled their entire existence down to a bargaining chip and one that he tossed away carelessly…

Yeah, he’s truly a scumbag, isn’t he?

They didn’t talk to him for quite a while, despite him begging for forgiveness. There was always a part of him that wondered why he even bothered… He had done it before, and in another gambling-induced high he would probably do it again…

They’d honestly be better off without him...

Leviathan

It’s, frankly, quite difficult to be the Avatar of Envy. Every day Levi feels uncomfortable in his own skin… Like he doesn’t measure up to this or that or like he’s not worthy of being in the meager position afforded to him. He preferred to hide himself away and try not to dwell on it… but then MC came along…

For once, he felt like he had something. Something truly special. Something one of a kind and like no other… He couldn’t point to any of his brothers and say that they had something better, hell, he couldn’t even point to Diavolo and say that he had a finer version.

No. He had them. The one, the only, MC. Better than all the rest. His only great accomplishment in his miserable, pathetic life...

… so why did they keep leaving him…?

It didn’t hurt that badly at first when they’d tell him they couldn’t go watch some new anime with him because they had other plans. Sometimes they’d go off shopping with Mammon or have lunch with Beel… That was fine. Understandable.

At least that’s what he’d tell himself.

After a while though, he started to feel lonely… rejected… Was he not good enough for them? Surely that had to be it, right?? A miserable shut-in otaku with someone like them? What a joke!

Any time he’d voice his insecurities, they’d always say the same things: “No, don’t be silly!” “I really do want to be with you.” “I love you, Levi. Don’t you believe me?”

No. He didn’t. With each passing hour spent away from him, time where he would get shafted for one of his brothers instead, he believed them less and less…

Soon all he heard was lies…

Something possessed him that day. MC had just missed their third live stream in a row in order to be with his brothers instead. Which one was it? It didn’t really matter. He felt the stinging pain of isolation all the same…

When the MC walked into his room they had no way of knowing that the festering hatred and inadequacy that had been stewing in him for months was about to spill over. His anger was so quick to spark and their human body too weak to resist...

It was only once he realized how long he had their head forced under the water of his aquarium that he finally let them up for air.

He was stepping over himself to apologize, stammering incoherently through his tears how he just lost control and didn’t know what came over him!

His brothers weren’t forgiving. Not in the slightest. Each of them seemed to want to beat him within an inch of his life and he didn’t blame them… If he could get away with it, he’d march himself into the sea and let it serve as his rightful prison…

His punishments were severe, but not unending, and soon he was back in his room again. Now he never leaves it and the MC is never allowed back in, even if they want to be.

He now, truly, doesn’t deserve them at all...

Link to Part Two: Satan, Beel, Belphie

[bubblesuga]

Mahina || Part 2

Summary: You're a mystery to Jungkook. His newfound interest in you continues to grow, and he's determined to learn everything about you. genre: smut, fluff, angst word count: 5,216 tags: idol!au, fantasy!au

PART 1

This was probably a mistake.

Jungkook hasn't stopped thinking about you, dreaming about you. Your scent leaves him absolutely intoxicated and he's not willing to go without you for much longer.

Herein lies the problem: Jungkook hasn't had a moment alone with you since the day in the gym. It's only been a week, and shortly after you left him he found himself longing for more. It's the closest he's ever been to high, he's sure of it. Because of that, every time he sees you he has to hold himself back from dragging you away and taking you in the nearest empty room.

Your interactions together have been predominantly professional. You finished the rest of the solo shots and have been around to film Bangtan Bombs, taking pictures whenever you feel it would be appropriate. You've maintained your composure in front of him, not for lack of hurting Jungkook's feelings. He feels dumb for feeling like you're uninterested now, but every time you use words that don't give any indication of your attraction to him, he feels as though you're over it. Maybe you are, it wouldn't be the first time a woman left him after the first night.

Jungkook can feel that he's spacing out, his eyes are wide but he can't draw them away from the floor. His head is spinning in circles with thoughts of you. Both memories of the other day and the potential his fears have to coming to fruition.

He hears his name being called, so he tries his best to shake himself out of the trance he's in. Glancing up, he sees you.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, he scoots back and stands from his chair, doing a mid bow, "H- hey! How's it going?"

"Calm down Mr. Jeon, there's no need for the formalities." you giggle, grasping an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table. The commons area is empty, the only sound being the water cooler bubbling occasionally as it refills.

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows, "You just called me Mr. Jeon but don't want formalities?"

"Because you're my boss," you shrug, "I'm supposed to call you Mr. Jeon."

"Well, stop. It makes me feel old." Jungkook has to hide his grin when he notices the concern on your face. So you do still care.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset." your lips are turned down in a frown, your shoulders slumping slightly. Today, you're wearing a white T-shirt, your red bra showing slightly through the thin material. It's not something that's extremely noticeable, only if Jungkook stared. Which he did, he couldn't help himself now that he's seen you without clothes.

Sympathy crosses Jungkook's face, "Oh no, _____. You didn't upset me, I was just teasing you."

Your frown twitches, "That's mean."

"You're mean." Jungkook retaliates.

"How am I the mean one here?" you fight, your jaw dropping and arms flying up in question.

"Because you haven't spoke to me normally since we fu-" Jungkook doesn't have the chance to finish his sentence, because your hands fly to his mouth. This is the first time you've touched him in a week, and he is reeling instantly.

"You can't just say that," you whisper, your eyes watching the door, "someone could hear you. Then what? I get fired?"

Jungkook didn't think about that.

"Listen. I like you, Jungkook, but we can't go around announcing what we did. My job is on the line if others find out, but you'll get a slap on the wrist," you finally move your hand, and Jungkook's skin burns where you once rested, "just think about that before staring at me like you want to devour me in a meeting full of higher ups."

"I did that?" he feels his face burn red.

"You practically undressed me with your eyes. That's why I haven't been interacting with you much." your words are scolding but your tone is light. Jungkook feels like he's in trouble but doesn't expect a punishment, much like when his mom would find out he sneaked candy into school when he was younger. Nothing is actually going to happen to him. He kind of wants something to happen to him though.

"You liked it though, didn't you?"

Bold, he thinks to himself, good job, Jungkook.

Your stance falters for a moment, a glint shining in your eye, "Liked what?"

"The fact that I can't stop thinking about you," Jungkook starts, reaching his hand forward and stroking your cheekbone with his thumb, "the fact that your wet cunt is the greatest thing I've ever felt, and I can't wait to be inside you again."

He sees your eyes widen, glancing over to the door again. Jungkook suddenly feels a sense of jealousy, the fact that your mind is somewhere other than with him causes him to whine audibly. He keeps his ears trained for footsteps, dragging your attention back to him. "Don't look at the door, look at me."

Your eyes move from the door, straight to him. His thumb moves to your lips, "Such a pretty girl. I want to kiss you so bad."

His earlier fear has disappeared, replaced with a sudden need. He doesn't want you, no. He needs you. He needs to feel you against him, to hear you moan, to whisper your name in your ear as he cums. He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Because despite desperately wanting to bend you over the table and fuck you into oblivion, your job is more important. He doesn't want to get in the way of your career.

"You think I'm pretty?" you whisper against his lips.

"Ethereal." he responds.

He begins to kiss you again, this time with much more need than before. How could you ask such a silly question? Of course he thinks you're gorgeous. So gorgeous, in fact, that he questions whether you have some sort of otherworldly disposition, like an angel sent from above. He's never come across someone as inherently perfect as you.

Just when your tongue slips into his mouth, Jungkook hears heavy footsteps. He pulls away abruptly, slipping his hand from your face to behind his neck, scratching nervously.

You back away and pick up your camera, pointing it at Jungkook. He looks at you, and he smiles. A simple one, hiding the thoughts behind his eyes. He makes sure his teeth show, because he knows everybody loves his teeth.

"Perfect, Jungkook," you say as Seokjin enters the room, "now if you come up with any other domestic or casual themes just let me know."

"Domestic or casual?" Seokjin laughs, "Jungkookie, what are you telling this poor woman?"

"What?" Jungkook chuckles nervously, "I can be domestic."

"Perceived, maybe. But actually be domestic? Impossible." Seokjin fills up a glass of water and chugs. Jungkook glances toward you and you raise an eyebrow. He decides he'll explain later.

"Hey, _____. You should take a picture of my reflection in a spoon." Seokjin holds up a large spoon, staring at the concave reflection.

"Why would I do that?"

"For the humor! Come on, you need to lighten up." Seokjin turns the spoon around and Jungkook glances at you, before shaking his head with a laugh and walking out of the room.

~*~*~

"So you have a thing for the photographer?" Yoongi suddenly asks in the dorms that night, causing Jungkook to swallow.

"What makes you say that?" Jungkook's immediate defensiveness doesn't seem to make him sound innocent. Yoongi tosses his head back and lets out a breathy laugh, "Because you licked your lips in her direction like 30 times today."

"I didn't have any chapstick."

Yoongi shakes his head, "I get it, she's hot, but is she 'ruin-your's-and-her's-career-for-some-pussy' hot?"

"That's awfully derogatory, Hyung." Jungkook bites back his jealousy.

"For real, though. If you're gonna risk it, you might as well stop being such a wimp about it." Yoongi usually isn't one to offer his advice unwarranted. When Jungkook was younger, he saw Yoongi as this mysterious-sensei like figure that only spoke when asked questions he found interesting. Similarly, whenever Jungkook was struggling morally, Yoongi was his go-to. He certainly had to trek to his studio and beg to be let in for any advice.

"Nah, I'm not into her," Jungkook lies through his teeth, "she's pretty and all but she's all work and no play."

"Really? She seemed pretty playful in my studio the other day." Yoongi mentions casually, taking a sip of some nasty lager he ordered from Germany.

Jungkook grips the edge of the couch, taking a subtle breath when he notices a glint in Yoongi's eyes. "Really?" he tries his hardest to hide his annoyance, "what happened?"

"She was bent over the table, playing with all the knobs and buttons on my mixer," Yoongi smirks, "asking me all sorts of questions. 'What's this one do?' and 'What about this one?'" he raises his tone mockingly, "such a curious girl. Sometimes I wonder if she's seen technology at all."

"Yeah, it's like the only thing she knows is her camera." Jungkook fakes a laugh.

"Makes me wonder if I should ask her to take playgirl pictures of me for my own keepsake. I wouldn't mind her seeing me naked."

"Alright! I'm going to bed. Nice talk, Yoongi."

Jungkook stands abruptly, moving to step over Yoongi's legs, but he's stopped by Yoongi's hand gripping his calf. "I knew you had a thing for her!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Jungkook shakes his leg from Yoongi's grip, crossing his arms over his shirtless torso. Yoongi stands up, "I saw you two making out in the commons room today."

Jungkook feels his entire body go numb, "We weren't making out," he scoffs, "she had something in her teeth."

"So you were trying to get it out with your tongue?"

"Yoongi!" Jungkook is never the one to scold, but he can't stop himself.

"Relax buddy, your secret is safe with me. I even stalled Seokjin from interrupting you two." Yoongi seems so casual, like he's not currently holding life-altering information in his hands.

"So you don't want her to shoot you naked?" Jungkook's embarrassed that this is his first thought.

"Nah I wouldn't do that to you." Yoongi grins, his eyes disappearing behind his happiness.

Jungkook pouts, "No one can know."

"I know, I heard the conversation."

"You listened in on us?!" He raises his voice, quickly quieting down once he realizes how late it is.

Yoongi laughs, "Yeah."

~*~*~

Ten hours later, Jungkook is back at the Hybe building. He managed to get some sleep after the conversation with Yoongi. If anything, he feels slightly better that someone knows and therefore he has someone to talk about it with. Jungkook has wanted nothing more than to talk about it, and since it's so difficult to catch you, Yoongi was his best bet. He spends a while talking to him about how weirdly connected he feels to you. Like it goes beyond lust, but he's not exactly sure what that beyond is.

Yoongi encourages Jungkook to speak to you about it, but Jungkook is still unsure. He's only known you a week. A glorious week, but a week nonetheless. Jungkook fears an admission of how he's feeling will scare you away and push you into nothing more than just a photographer. As he spoke to Yoongi, he realized that in his copious amount of spacing out and Maladaptive Daydreaming, he's pictured himself taking you out on a date. No sex, no lust, just good food and wine.

This is how he knows there's a connection.

So, as he rides the elevator up to the 13th floor, he nervously adjusts his button up. Deciding to skip his work out this morning, he's dressed himself in torn skinny jeans and folded his sleeves up to look as suave as he can. He realizes that his muscles clearly show beneath the silk fabric of his shirt, and he smiles. He hopes you like it.

Wandering down the hall after a grueling 3 minute elevator ride, he arrives at the office you claimed. He's never been in here, nor does he know what you do in here, but he's excited to see how you've made it your own.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

No answer.

Knock knock knock.

Nothing.

He presses his ear to the door and can hear you. You're whispering to someone, your voice sounding urgent and annoyed.

"I know, Mother. I am trying but there's only so much I can do in this form."

"Well you need to try harder. Earth is wearing on you." Another voice says, and it sounds as if they're in the room. Jungkook doesn't recognize the voice as any of the staff.

What are they talking about?

Knockknockknock!

He tries once more for good measure and hears you gasp, then a loud thud. You scramble to the door, and Jungkook backs away just in time for you to open it.

Your hair is wild, and for a moment Jungkook swears he sees your skin a slight blue tone. Blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face, you smile, "What's up, Jungkook?"

He raises an eyebrow, "What, uh- what's going on in there?"

"Oh, nothing. Zoom meetings, you know the drill." a small burst of wind comes from behind you, shaking the loose shirt around your torso. Weird, he didn't think you'd open the window with how hot it is outside. You bite your lip, "What can I do for you?"

Jungkook feels nervousness at his trembling hands. He glances down the hallway and sees a door beginning to open, "Can I come in?"

You glance behind you, then nod, opening the door wider.

Jungkook slips in quickly, closing the door behind him.

"So, what's up?" You plop down onto your chair, an editing software Jungkook is unfamiliar with displayed on your monitor.

Jungkook lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding in. Softly, he speaks, "Can I make you dinner?"

A grin stretches across your face, "Like a date?"

"Yes, like a date." Jungkook mirrors your grin.

"Then obviously," you move from your chair and straddle his thighs, on the couch he placed himself on, "I would be thrilled."

"Oh yeah?" Jungkook brings you down to his mouth, his tongue massaging against yours. The heat from your body sears into his, trapping him against the couch. He thinks he may faint from your proximity. His hands roam your back, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to play with your hot skin and listening to the sounds of content coming out of your mouth, slightly muffled by his own.

As he brings his fingers up your back, he feels the bottom of the scars he saw the last time you were in this position. Just as he's about to ask about them, he feels you grind onto his thigh. He flexes, and you gasp into his mouth.

"You like thigh riding?" Jungkook murmurs, his voice deep and rough. He can hear you whimpering as you move your hips again. He glances down and sees your jeans rutting against you. Sliding his hands to the button of your pants, he undoes it, "That can't be comfortable, baby. Take your pants off."

You gasp as he unzips your jeans, "I don't want to get your pants wet."

He bites back a moan at how incredibly dirty that sounds. You already sound fucked out, as though he's made you cum 5 times. It seems the affect you have on him aligns with the affect he has on you.

"I'll take off my pants, too. I want you to get yourself off on my thigh."

You both move quickly to pull off your bottoms. The moment you're free, you place yourself back on Jungkook's thigh and begin riding. His lips travel up and down your neck, stopping at the base of your collarbone and nibbling gently. The moan you illicit is so hot that Jungkook almost pulls you off of his thigh and directly on his dick. Almost.

He can't bare to remove you from your pleasure as your face contorts into complete and utter bliss. Smiling, he makes sure his hands roam close to your inner thighs, flexing his thigh every once in a while for an added amount of pressure against your wet cunt. He doesn't think he's ever been this hard before, watching you with eyes as wide as saucers while you come undone above him, your orgasm giving you literal chills. Goosebumps rise on your skin while you call his name out repeatedly.

"Fuck." Jungkook whispers, "Get on your knees. Now."

"Yes sir." you breathe, falling to your knees in between Jungkook's thighs.

As you reach forward, Jungkook slaps your hand away.

"One touch and I'm coming, so make it count."

Your cheeks are warm against his hands, your eyes blown out as you still tingle from your release. You reach forward, slipping his boxers off of his waist and licking your lips when you see his cock spring free. There's a sudden cuteness to your expression, as though you've never had your tongue this close to a cock before. However, the moment you place your lips around the tip, he can tell that isn't the case.

"God damn it, baby," he instantly thrusts upward, causing you to gag. He looks down with a sheepish smile, "I'm sorry."

You shake your head, "Choke me with your cock."

Jungkook is in utter euphoria. With one swift thrust, he is releasing down your throat. You sputter around him, your throat contracting repeatedly as you swallow his cum.

"Holy shit." He whispers as you pull off, a string of saliva connecting you to him.

You pull yourself to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He strokes your inner thigh, his large hand enjoying the thickness of your thigh. He loves having something to hold on to.

"I got all dressed up for you and you managed to get me half naked in less than 10 minutes." Jungkook jokes, feeling your hand stroke his chest.

You giggle, "Next time it'll be all the way naked in 5 minutes."

~*~*~

Jungkook has never prepared a meal as good as the one sitting on the table in front of him.

He spent hours creating pasta from scratch. Mixing the dough, watching it proof, cutting it by hand (because he really couldn't figure out how to attach the extension to Seokjin's way-too-expensive mixer), and boiling it to a perfect Al Dente texture. He created the sauce entirely from scratch as well, staring with a heavy cream and adding Parmesan and various seasonings until it somewhat resembled an Alfredo sauce. He's not entirely sure how he ended up here, but he watched a video about it like 3 years ago on one of those nights that he just couldn't fall asleep and it has stuck with him ever since.

Now that's steaming on the table, he anxiously awaits your arrival.

He rented a small house on the country side, the private beach just behind the fancy Air BNB being the main attraction to him. He hasn't swam in the ocean in years for fear that someone could recognize him, and he misses the feeling of the salty water against his skin. He hopes you're willing to join him for a dip later on in the evening.

After consulting Yoongi on what his plan should be, he said you seem like the type of person who enjoys simplicity. So, he made the most simple meal he could think of, while simultaneously throwing as much work into it as he could.

Just as he begins to worry about the food going cold before you arrive, the doorbell rings.

He runs to the door, before pausing at the floor length mirror by the shoe closet and checking his appearance. His movements stutter for a second, and he reaches his hands to the buttons on his shirt, undoing the top three. Smirking, he turns and opens the door.

And his jaw drops.

The dress you wear is floor length, silver sequins shining all the way up to the 'V' line, exposing just enough cleavage to be sexy. Your skin glows beneath the setting sun, a smile on your face that's bright enough to blind Jungkook.

"Flies are gonna get in your mouth if you keep it open like that, ya know." you step into the doorway, taking 2 fingers and lifting Jungkook's jaw up. He swallows the little bit of saliva he began to feel collecting on his tongue.

"You look gorgeous." he says after a moment of collecting himself, stepping to the side and allowing you to walk all the way in.

Your eyes trail Jungkook's body up and down, stilling at his skinny jeans.

"Sorry," you breathe, "I just got flashbacks of yesterday in my office."

Jungkook hides his victorious smile, "If you're a good girl and eat your dinner, I'll let you do it again."

"I'll do whatever you say, sir." your voice is low, seductive. It carries through Jungkook's ears like a soft whisper, and it excites him immediately. He swallows his excitement, though, because tonight is about getting to know you.

So, as you sit at the dining table and watch Jungkook begin to plate your food, he speaks, "Where are you from?"

His question seems to shock you and your quiet for a moment. Raising his eyebrow, he plates his own food and sits across from you.

"Here." you say simply.

"Where's 'here'?" Jungkook retorts, watching as you twirl pasta around your fork. You take a big bite, and Jungkook prays you enjoy it. When your face lights up, Jungkook releases a breath he didn't even realize he was holding in.

"This is so good Jungkook, where did you get it?" you ask, digging in and taking another bite.

"I made it." He replies proudly.

"Nuh-uh," you tease, "this tastes like it's straight from Italy. Ain't no way you didn't use your fancy BTS powers and get this flown here straight from Gordon Ramsey's kitchen."

"Fancy BTS powers?" Jungkook laughs.

"Yeah! You're, like-" you gesture wildly, "thing you got going on. The whole 'I'm a celebrity and everyone gets on their knees for me' thing that you can do."

"What are you talking about?" Jungkook asks incredulously, humor lacing his tone.

"You know what I mean." you pout, pushing more pasta into your mouth.

Jungkook takes the quick silence to take his first bite.

Okay, he did a good job.

Swallowing, he licks his lips clean of sauce. He doesn't miss the smile on your face when his tongue pokes out. "Don't think you've distracted me from the question. Where did you grow up?"

You roll your eyes, "I grew up in a regular old house. Nothing special about my childhood."

"You're lying."

"What makes you say that?"

"You can't be as incredibly talented as you are without having something interesting happen to you as you grew up." Jungkook knows his theory has flaws but he's hoping his words are enough to make you feel comfortable enough to open up to him more.

You mull over his words for a moment. Jungkook is trying his hardest to read you, because for the first time since he's met you, you seem nervous. You're tenser than usual, your legs crossed and your hand gripping the fork hard enough for your knuckles to turn white. Why on Earth would a simple question cause you this much distress? He doesn't know what to say, and he's scared to opt for changing the subject. So, he waits.

"My parents are from two entirely different back rounds," you begin, setting down your fork and loosening your posture, "like, really different. My mom has always been better off than my dad was. When she was younger, she wore a crown on her head that was completely encrusted in diamonds."

Jungkook's eyes widen, "So was she really wealthy?"

"Still is," you explain, "but she's really branched off on her materialistic possessions. She often craves for her children to be as prepared and well off as she was."

"Oh," he says, a minute response now that he's getting what he wanted. He just wants to hear more, "you said 'was' when speaking of your dad, did he pass?"

You smile sadly, "Ages ago."

"What was he like?"

A beat of time passes and Jungkook feels his heart thud. He's aching for you, for your loss. He's watching as painful memories cross over your features.

"Like I said, he grew up completely different from my mom. He was a Shepard and worked really hard to get as far as he got. He met my mom when he was 17 and immediately fell in love with her, and not long after she got pregnant with lil' old me." you grin brightly, hiding your earlier sadness and posing with your hands beneath your chin.

Despite your cutesy pose, Jungkook feels his curiosity growing, "How did he pass?"

"Jeeze, all these questions," you laugh sheepishly, and your sadness returns, "My parents separated shortly after I was born. I spent the spring and summer months with my mother and fall and winter with my father. One Spring, I got a call that my father had been in an accident. It was really long ago so I can't remember details, but he died shortly after that."

"I- I'm so sorry." Jungkook whispers, "that's horrific."

"Life goes on," you inhale through your nose, "enough about me. Tell me how you chose BigHit when all those companies were after you."

Jungkook allows the subject change to roll through, nervous that his curiosity may have offended you. He tells you about his early years, explaining that he's always had a dream of becoming a singer. His parents struggled financially when he was a kid, so he insisted on getting rich so he could help them out. Now that he's an adult, and he is rich (though he hates to label himself as such), he doesn't know what to do with his money. He paid off his parents' house and bought them both new cars, he makes sure that all of their wants are taken care of.

At first his mother tried to refuse his gifts, stating that he had earned it himself therefore he should use it on himself. At this point they were 4 years into the band, the first little while they didn't make nearly as much money as other idol groups did. As soon as he got his first decent check, he immediately spent it on his parents. He's grateful for his mother's concern, but he always told him he was going to take care of them. His parents have learned to just accept the gifts he brings them, but they still haven't blatantly asked for help.

You laugh when Jungkook says he has to become a private investigator when he wants to know how his parents are doing. If there's ever a problem, he has to figure it out for himself because his father has too much pride to ask for help from his son. Jungkook knows they are grateful for everything that he has done for them, but he doesn't want gratitude. He wants them to be happy.

The rest of the meal goes smoothly after that, laughter being shared as you both speak about your lives. It seems as though your earlier admissions about you family life has eased your discomfort with talking about yourself. You tell Jungkook a story about how your mother came down to your father's farm for a week while she was pregnant, just to see how he lived his work life, and was quickly bombarded with 12 sheep as he opened the gate.

When the plates are cleared, Jungkook glances towards the beach, "Want to go on a walk?"

You smile, "Please."

He takes your hand and leads you out of the house and onto the beach. You don't seem to mind that your dress drags in the sand, because you're quick to kick off your heels and sink your feet into the ground.

"Ah," you sigh happily, "I love the way the Earth feels."

Jungkook can't wipe the smile off of his face while he scrunches his nose, "As opposed to Pluto?"

"Yes!" you give his hand a squeeze, "Pluto is too cold to enjoy, even for me."

Jungkook swings your hands together while you approach the water, "You speak as though you've been there."

You seem shy for a moment, "In my dreams."

"So, in your dreams," Jungkook humors you, "you've been to Pluto and stayed long enough to develop a negative opinion about it?"

"If you felt the things I felt, you'd hate Pluto too." you defend, taking your hand away from his and plopping onto the wet sand. Your dress, albeit expensive and pretty, looks even better on you when wet. Jungkook doesn't hesitate to sit in the small waves with you.

"NASA hated Pluto enough to declassify it as a planet, so at least someone agrees with you."

You scrunch your nose, "You're a dork."

Jungkook fakes offense, pushing your shoulder lightly.

You fall backward, dramatically splashing into the water. Jungkook gasps, jumping forward and grabbing your arms, pulling you out of the water. "I didn't mean for you to fall in!"

You let out a giggle, before disappearing under the water again. You slip from Jungkook's hands and swim away, Jungkook losing sight of you under the foamy waves. He swims further out, far enough that the water stands to his chest, and twists around to look for you.

A dark shadow appears just beside him, a clear human shape. He chuckles, leaping forward to capture you but just before he goes under the water, he hears you whisper his name behind him.

"Jungkook~" you sing when he pulls himself out of the water.

He whips his head towards you but there's no one there. He feels a tap on his shoulder, then he sees you on the opposite side of him. Wiping the water off his face, he forces himself to process the last few seconds.

"How did you do that?!" he asks loudly.

"Do what?" you feign innocence.

"You were there," Jungkook points behind him, "then you were there," he points to the left of him, "and now you're here."

"I swim fast." you shrug, dipping beneath the water once more.

Jungkook doesn't get a chance to question you more because as you pop up from the water, your arms lock around the back of his neck, and you press your lips to his.

His mind goes blank, and all he can feel is you.

He pushes your dress up far enough to free your legs, your thighs moving to wrap around his waist. His hands hold you up, and you continue to kiss while he walks the two of you up to the beach. Collapsing onto the ground, he holds himself up above you as you disconnect your lips.

"Thank you for everything tonight, Jungkook."

Jungkook can't help his face turning red, "Anytime, baby."

With that, he connects your lips again and revels in the feeling of your body against his.

tag list: @pixiekooo @carmen-j @fangirl125reader let me know if you would like to be added, thank you for reading! <3

[terumimi-your-foxy-fren]

i have gotten one person saying they want to hear me loredump so i shall (thank you @kirbyofthestars :D) (and maybe more people by the time im done writing this)

(i have a lot to talk about so im putting it all under this)

OK SO I DONT HAVE A LOT OF ART BECAUSE I CANT DRAW SO SOME OF THEM YOU'LL JUST HAVE TO IMAGINE WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE

Ok so first some background lore for the world: so here magic is literally linked to your soul in 2 ways.

Your soul element is simple: its literally the element you were born with. Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Electricity, Ice, Light, and Darkness (possibly more because im still writing). This is possible to change, but you'd have to work yourself to the bone, and there's the chance it could hurt quite a lot.

Your soul VIBE, however, is a lot more interesting. Your vibe changes based on your personality. So lets say you're a very shy, but protective. Your magic would be stealth and protection oriented, then. It's not impossible to do stuff that wasnt made for your vibe, but it'll probably be a lot weaker.

There ARE 2 special vibes though: Dream and Nightmare.

Dream vibe represents those who, even through the worst of times, know how to be a guiding light to those in need, allowing them to use magic almost like a limb, controlling anything of their element with ease.

Nightmare vibe represents those who get consumed by the lows, creating a deadly amount of power, but at great risk to the user.

Now for literal worldbuilding: an amazonian-like group called the Quiren literally formed the world. They dont have magic, but can literally move mountains. Like, actually. They have INCREDIBLE strength.

ok so first you got the girl i have been working on since like... 7th grade:

INA

Ina is an extremely cheerful kitsune girl with the fire element. She also holds the dream vibe. As a young girl, she lived with her parents, but unfortunately due to the evil royal guard, her entire village went up in flames, killing everyone except her and one other person who i'll get to later. How did she survive, you may ask? One member rebelled and took her in, raising her. She has a very smug exterior, always seeming to have fun all the time, even being able to joke with her enemies, but she is EXTREMELY beat up inside, and sometimes worried that she isnt fit to do anything.

also she's a really good cook and is sporty, which she likes to encorperate into her magic attacks

also shes pan

SYLVANA

Sylvana is the fast electricity wielder of the group, and is also LITERALLY the mom friend as the oldest member of the group. An ex-royal guard member that just so happened to take in a certain kitsune when she left. A skilled assasin, with sharp knives and an equally sharp tongue. However, she deeply regrets everything she did under the tyrannical rule of the queen, and wants to teach the young people of the group to be better than her, especially Ina and one other person. You also do NOT want to get her pissed, as she will absolutely ruin your life.

KURO NÉMA AND SHIRO LETTE

Kuro is a masterful detective, as well as the son of the famous detective Noire Néma, who was able to solve any case while shrouded in darkness. He took over her agency after her assassination. Kuro is shy, but has a very stoic and calm exterior. He also has some mild anger iasues, but he's learning to control them. While not trying to live up to any expectations, as he wasn't even supposed to be a detective, sometimes work can get to him. Also, he's completely colorblind. He only sees in black and white. He also likes to monologue like he's the protagonist of a detective film.

Shiro is the Pomsky best friend and assistant of Kuro. Being the cause of his color blindness with an accidental bright light, she feels like Kuro hates her and wants to make it up to him in any way possible. With a photographic memory, and an insane interest in artifacts, she makes for a great partner. However, she has an extreme amount of attachment issues to Kuro, so they practically are always together.

Both of them also love praise. A lot.

also they're in love but think the other isn't interested in them, they don't become a couple until near the end of the story

unfortunately the rest i dont have images for so you'll just have to picture them

ALICE

Sylvana's daughter, an catgirl as energetic as the wind. The youngest of the group, and an aspiring wrestler. Not much is known about Alice's past, but one day Sylvana found her while on patrol and took her in. She's very close to Sylvana, and is almost obsessed with ber big sis Ina. A bit of a weeb and a chuuni, but she has a big heart. She also holds on to her past a lot, which can be a bit of an issue at times.

FEN

Fen is Ina's childhood best friend, a wolfgirl as graceful as ice. The 2 did everything together and were practically inseperable. Until Fen left on a mission to go gather some groceries, and came back to a village on fire and everyone she knew gone. Including her best friend. She fell into absolute despair, and isolated herself on a mountain, believing herself to be cursed. However, eventually Ina finds her and manages to help her be somewhat happy. She may be nervous, and has some trust issues, but she's a good person and a great fighter.

DAE

Dae is the future princess of the Quiren, and is the group's moth-like powerhouse. Once the queen started feeling off, Dae's mothers (the current queens of the quiren) were concerned, and asked Dae to join our little group of adventurers. Dae is an absolute tomboy, and while she loves being a princess she's also really into their tribe's sporting events. Many people, not including her loving parents, try to tell her she should focus on being a princess, however, and it can get to her sometimes. She's also really invested in anime, naming a lot of her moves after something she's seen in a show. She also has a weird, non-romantic attraction to Ina and Shiro...

NEXUS (technically my friends OC, but he was put into my story so i have my interpretation of him here.)

A young foxboy who's as calm as the sea. Nexus was part of a seperate village that was attacked, and wants to become the new keeper of time to reverse the events and save everyone who died because of the queen's royal guard. He finds ina one day in a near-fatal state, and in return for saving her life wants her help. Starts out cold and distant to everyone, especially Sylv and Alice, but eventually warms up to the group, especially Ina.

also he's ace

ok thats all of the main characters, i have some villains and side characters but I've been typing for over an hour and im tired

Please enjoy :3

[mimisempai]

Every time I look at you, I fall in love again

Summary:

As he gazes at his sleeping lover, Loki remembers the moments where he fell in love with Mobius.OrFive times when Loki's heart pounded in a special way and once when it pounded in a familiar way.

Notes:

Tumblr request : a 5+1 - it could be about moments in their relationship where Loki falls more in love w/ Mobius

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32821156

2084 words - Rating G

1.

For once, Loki woke up this morning before Mobius.

Leaning on his hand, he took the opportunity to watch his beloved while he slept.

As he gazed at the sleeping features of his lover, he was once again taken aback by the strength of his feelings.

Loki had little or no experience with love, so he had nothing to compare to what he was experiencing with Mobius right now.

No one had made him feel the way the man made him feel.

It was as if Mobius had wrapped his roots around Loki's heart little by little but without imprisoning him.

Mobius' love had set him free.

In return, Loki's feelings had taken root in Mobius' constancy.

Sometimes Loki liked to think about how his feelings had developed, because it had all happened so quickly that he had never been able to enjoy those stolen first moments.

It would be hard for Loki to say exactly when he had begun to notice that his relationship with Mobius was different from any relationship he had had before, but what he was sure of was that no one had ever been able to see through him as quickly as Mobius.

"I don't like to talk."

"But you do like to lie, which you just did. Because we both know you love to talk. Talkie-talkie."

Honestly, at that moment, Loki thought fondly, if he hadn't been so angry at being found out, he would have laughed.

As a matter of fact, it had become a fond memory for them. Whenever Loki would go into one of his grandiloquent tirades, Mobius would simply make this little gesture with his hand and would mouth "Talkie Talkie"

" You don't know anything about me.

"Maybe I'd like to learn."

It was probably at that moment that Mobius had begun to touch something in Loki that no one had ever touched. The fact that anyone would even bother to genuinely learn about him was in itself new. Except for his mother and Thor, most people had always assumed the worst of him.

"Honestly, I'm actually a fan. Yeah. And I guess I'm wondering why does someone with so much range just wanna rule?

Mobius had been the first to make him question himself.

Of course, at the time, he was not at all receptive to what Mobius' words really meant.

It had taken him some time to admit the truth.

The moment he had admitted it, the naked truth, without any more artifice, he had been ready to receive the final blow, the ratification of his vileness, but no, nothing like that.

"Because it's part of the illusion. It's the cruel, elaborate trick conjured by the weak to inspire fear."

"'A desperate play for control.' You do know yourself."

"A villain."

"That's not how I see it."

That's not how I see it.

At that moment, Loki's heart had pounded for the first time.

The man in front of him had seen all the lowliness that Loki was capable of and yet he did not see him as a villain.

From the first hours of their meeting, he had made it impossible for Loki not to love him and from then on, his feelings had grown exponentially.

2.

As he walked down the path of his memories, Loki continued to gaze at Mobius as he slept. A small miracle in itself for Loki.

Knowing who Loki was, Mobius slept in his presence. The perfect image of absolute trust.

Loki sometimes still had trouble feeling worthy of such trust.

Seeing him sleeping like that, he thought of the day when he himself had first fallen asleep in this way with Mobius.

The day he fell a little more in love with Mobius.

It started with Mobius taking the blame for the failure of their first mission together, when it was all Loki's fault. They could have just pruned him, but no, Mobius had pleaded his case to Ravonna.

Then Loki had presented his theory to Mobius, admittedly with a rather shaky metaphor, even ruining one of his lover's favorite dishes.

"Well, here's a fun theory. You lure me out into the field, and then you stab me in the back. And that's a theory I don't wanna test."

"I'd never stab anyone in the back. That's such a boring form of betrayal."

"Loki, I've studied almost every moment of your entire life. You've literally stabbed people in the back, like, 50 times."

"Well, I'd never do it again, because it got old."

Mobius laughed and chose to follow Loki's theory, even though Loki had given him no reason to believe in him until now. Even though his theory was based on almost nothing, Mobius had chosen to believe Loki.

Then they returned from Pompeii and something happened that had never happened to Loki, he had fallen asleep. Loki, who was distrustful of everything and nothing, had simply fallen asleep in the presence of someone he hardly knew. As if his heart had understood before his mind that he had nothing to fear from Mobius.

When Mobius had woken him up, Loki's heart had pounded for the second time, and it wasn't fright that had caused it, but the realization that Loki was falling in love and falling deeply.

3.

As he looked up from his contemplation of Mobius, Loki's gaze fell on the photo that lay on his nightstand. A memory of their first vacations, when Mobius had finally realized his dream. In the middle of the paradisiacal decor of an island in Midgard, Loki had taken this photo of Mobius piloting -at last- a jetski. So much joy on his face.

Another thing that made Loki fall in love a little more: the passion of his lover for some small insignificant things.

Josta, salad, jet-ski...

"You know, some things... Actually, most things in history are kinda dumb, and everything gets ruined eventually. But in the early 1990s, for a brief, shining moment, there was a beautiful union of form and function, which we call the jet ski, and a reasonable man cannot differ."

"You ever been on one?"

"No... No. I think a TVA agent showing up on a jet ski on the Sacred Timeline, that would create a branch for sure."

"Oh it'd be fun, though."

"Yeah, it'd be really fun."

"So, why read about them?"

"It just helps remind me of what we're fighting for."

The expression Mobius had had at that moment, when he had said something like that with such candor had made Loki fall even more.

And his heart had pounded for the third time.

While he had sensed that what would happen next would destroy what Mobius believed in, Loki had not been able to stop himself from wanting to protect him and his happiness, and to hope that one day he would be able to realize his dream.

With his eyes on the photo commemorating a very real memory, he felt a sense of satisfaction, because his lover had been able to realize this dream and Loki had been there to witness it.

4.

"Loki... Don't go..."

Loki's eyes returned from the picture to his lover, whose features were now tense, probably from a nightmare.

"I'm here love, I'm not leaving. I'm staying with you."

Saying this, Loki gently strokes Mobius' cheek and his expression immediately relaxes. After a few seconds,he was sleeping peacefully again.

Loki didn't need to read Mobius' mind to know what he had dreamed.

He had known that he had taken a huge risk when he had decided to follow Sylvie and he had known that the reunion with Mobius would not be easy.

After all, he had betrayed him. But of all the acts of betrayal that Loki had been guilty of, this was the one that had cost him the most. Because of the feelings he was beginning to have for Mobius.

But what he hadn't imagined was that Mobius would almost turn into a jealous lover, even though at that point they didn't have that kind of relationship at all.

Loki had been incredibly surprised that it wasn't Loki's betrayal that had hurt Mobius the most, but the fact that he had made a connection with Sylvie.

"Come on. Look at your eyes. You like her."

"You like her. Does she like you?"

"Both of you were just swooning over each other."

"It's breaking my reality right now. What an incredible seismic narcissist. You fell for yourself."

"I'm supposed to believe your terrorist girlfriend"

"What, your female self that you have some demented crush on…"

Loki's heart had pounded for the fourth time when he realized what it could mean. He had fallen a little more at the thought of Mobius, at the thought that the man might be jealous, at the thought of what it might mean about Mobius' feelings for him.

5.

Then there had been that moment of grace, the exact moment when Loki had known that he was definitely in love with Mobius.

For the first time, when everything was against him, someone had chosen to believe in him. That someone was Mobius.

Even though he was clearly angry with Loki, he still listened to him and chose to believe him.

Despite Loki's attempts at manipulation, betrayals, and mistakes, Mobius renewed his faith in him and spoke those words that were imprinted in Loki's head.

"You could be whoever, whatever you wanna be, even someone good. I mean, just in case anyone ever told you different."

Loki's throat tightened as he was overwhelmed by the emotion of the memory.

Mobius had no idea how many wounds he had healed in Loki at that moment.

After what Loki had done, where Odin and Thor had not forgiven him, not only had Mobius forgiven him but even more amazingly, he had shown that he believed that Loki was capable of being good, of doing good.

At that moment, Loki's heart did not pound once, but thousands of times, at full speed.  Because of the joy and love that filled it.

The sudden disappearance of Mobius just afterwards had been all the more cruel. Because at that moment, they didn't know about the Void and Loki had thought Mobius was lost forever. He had been devastated.

He couldn't help but touch Mobius' face, gently so as not to wake him, then he whispered softly, "You too Mobius, do not ever leave me."

+1

They had found each other again.

When he first saw Mobius after he thought he had lost him, it only confirmed Loki's feelings for Mobius.

The way his heart had pounded at the sight of the one he loved was impossible to ignore.

So when they had to part once again, Loki had not been able to resist the pull of his heart, and instead of grabbing Mobius' hand, he had taken the man in his arms.

Loki had held Mobius in his arms many times since that moment, but he would never forget the feeling of that first hug. The feeling that the universe was in place. That he was where he belonged, that he was home.  He had expressed without words all that he felt and Mobius had answered him in the same way. They had to part again, but this time the bond between them was undeniable and unbreakable.

They had to go through a lot to finally enjoy their love, without the sword of Damocles, without the threat of the end of the world, or of a multiversal war over their heads, but they had made it. They were here now.

With each passing day, Loki fell a little more in love.

The Midgardian saying, I love you more than yesterday and less than tomorrow, had become his.

Because every time he looked at Mobius and realized the love they shared, he felt like it was stronger.

Mobius moved in his sleep, making the sheet slide off his shoulder.

Loki could not resist and leaned over to kiss the bare shoulder. Mobius woke up and turned to face Loki with a sleepy smile on his lips.

"Hey there handsome," Mobius whispered to Loki, gently kissing Loki's cheek. Loki's heart fluttered in a familiar way now, at such gentleness and at the adoration he read in his lover's eyes.

"Hey love," whispered Loki.

Mobius kissed him, his lips pressing lazily against Loki's. Loki smiled and kissed him back, happy.

Together they enjoyed the delights of a perfect, quiet morning.

_________

All other one-shots of this series here : X

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd I hope you enjoyed it 🥰

[superbadassnatural]

The One With The Morning After

Summary: Y/N has to deal with the aftermath of a night filled with booze, sex, and questionable choices. Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 3,143 Warnings: mostly fluff, tiny bit of angst, a bit of smut, hangover A/N: this was written for @smol-and-grumpy​’s awesome challenge “SuperFriends Tittle Challenge”. The prompt is the title of this story of course. Hope you all enjoy it!

(x)

Few rays of sunshine struggled to get past the blinds and illuminate the room. As the warm light ghosted over your face, your eyes fluttered open. You blinked a few times before taking in your surroundings. A thin white sheet covered your body. You lifted it only to notice you were naked. You felt disgusting as if you had sweated the whole night.

Turning on your back, you noticed the guy you spent the night with was still there. He was on his side, his back to you. The sheet only covered his lower half. Fresh scratches covered his back. You didn’t have to put your tired mind through much thinking to know you were the one who caused them. As much as you wanted to see his face to at least have an idea if you had picked it right, you didn’t want to wake him and deal with the whole morning after thing. One night stands are good. You have fun and most of the time you get off. The problem was the morning after itself. Unlike most people, you thank god when you wake up and the guy has already left or when you wake up first and leave without explanation. The whole ‘it was good, I had fun’ was annoying. Every time you had to put an extra effort to not roll your eyes.

It was frustrating, to say the least when you didn’t even remember the guy’s appearance. You could only hope a glimpse of his face would come back to you. You took one last glance at him before getting up. You nearly choked when your eyes landed on the small scar on the side of his hip. There was no way in hell you wouldn’t recognize that scar. You were the one who stitched him up back then. Clothes formed a trail on the floor, you scooped them up and dressed as fast and as quiet as you could. Your heart was almost leaping out of your chest by the time you walked out of the room.

Outside of the motel, you allowed your breath to even and your heart to calm down in your chest. His car was parked only a few feet away. You ignored the shining impala and made your way back to the bunker. It wasn’t the first time you came to this particular motel so you knew the way.

It was early. Dean never wakes up before noon after a night at a bar. You had enough time to get home, shower, and take a nap before he came back. You could only hope he’d remember as much as you did. Nothing. The thought of ruining your friendship with Dean had your palms sweating. It was undeniable that you felt something for him. Those feelings were buried way too deep and throughout the years you learned how to live with them. He didn’t make it any easier on you though. Dean was constantly flirting with you. In the beginning, it was tough to be around him. Dean’s a flirt. Every now and then he’d give you his signature smirk and wink followed by a flirty comment. Although it caused a weak in your knees, you figured it was best to keep your feelings to yourself rather than risk losing him.

Arriving at the bunker, you made your way to the war room, hoping to find one of your best friends. There was no sign of Sam. You figured he’d either be on his morning run or making breakfast. It wasn’t even eight yet, so he must be home.

“Hey you,” you smiled, leaning on the fridge.

“Hey,” he greeted as he finished making his sandwich. “I didn’t expect you to be back already.”

“Yeah, I know. Just missed my bed I guess.”

“Dean’s not home yet. Did you hear from him?”

“Nope,” you were grateful he had his back to you and wouldn’t catch you lying.

“Do you want me to make you something?” He turned to you, hazel eyes widening as they roamed over your entire body. “You okay? You've been crying?”

“What? No, of course not. Why?”

“Your mascara or eyeliner, I don’t know, is a little smudged.”

“Oh,” your fingertips touched the skin under your eyes softly. You left in such a hurry that you didn’t even look in the mirror. “Guess that’s what happens when you sleep with makeup on,” you shrugged. “Alright, I’m gonna take a shower then take a nap. Trust me, I need it.”

“Okay, you do you.”

You headed straight to the shower. The need to wash off the guilt and fear of ruining your thirteen-year friendship grew stronger by the second. You could only hope those feelings would be dispelled down the drain along with the stink of alcohol and sex. The water felt good on your tired body. You didn’t take long in there though. Every cell in your body claimed to be in bed again. You needed at least two more hours of sleep to survive the rest of the day. That and being away from Dean for twenty-four hours both physically and psychologically. Mission impossible.

Your eyes fell closed the second your body hit the soft mattress. Memory foam hugged your limbs, lulling you to sleep.

The headboard banged against the wall. Your mind was in a haze of alcohol and pleasure. Dean’s groans sounded distant. His hands were all over your body. His thrusts were erratic as he searched for the final push. You arched against him, breasts pressed to his firm chest. He whispered soft praises against your skin as a wave of pleasure consumed you.

Your eyes shot open as you sat in bed abruptly. Beads of sweat covered your forehead. Pulling the covers off, you got up, making a beeline to the bathroom. You washed your face in an attempt to get rid of the images of last night. It was in vain. The mirror only reflected how screwed you were. As if the images and the sounds running wild in your mind weren’t enough, your cleavage was covered in hickeys. You closed your eyes and suddenly you were back in that cheap motel room.

Dean’s lips kissed and sucked every patch of skin they could. Your hand shot to his head, fingers tugging at his hair. He groaned against the curve of your neck. His lips descended to your collarbone. Dean marked your skin as his hand squeezed your breast softly. He drunkenly mumbled “mine” against you.

Shaking the memory away, you turned off the tap and headed to your room. It was early which meant you had high chances of not seeing Dean. You just needed to eat and take a pill for the pounding headache. Then you could come back and hide in your room for the rest of the day. Pulling on a hoodie, you made your way to the kitchen.

“You’re awake,” Sam greeted. “Thought you were gonna sleep for the rest of the morning.”

“Yeah, me too,” you sighed, turning on the coffee maker before grabbing some bacon in the fridge for you to cook. “I wanted to, but I had a bad dream.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really,” you shrugged.

“I found us a case,” he announced as you sat in front of him with a plate and a mug in your hands. “Omaha, Nebraska. I think it’s a spirit. A quick salt and burn will do it.”

“Good. When do we leave?” you asked, munching the crispy bacon.

“Tomorrow?”

“Okay.”

“And, uh, do you mind if it’s just you and Dean on this one? Eileen and I have a date tomorrow and uh-“

“Yeah, s-sure. I don’t mind going alone with Dean. I mean… Why would I mind? It’s not like we haven’t been on hunts just the two of us.”

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Sure,” you tried to keep your voice as normal as you could, but failed miserably. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You’re the one acting weird.”

“Okay,” you sighed. “I need to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Last night I didn’t come home because I was with Dean. After you left the bar, we had a few more drinks. A lot more. And we slept together.”

“Finally,” he breathed out and you gasped at his reaction. “I just don’t understand why you guys went to a motel instead of coming home.”

“The motel was closer and we were kinda in a hurry.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said as you finished your breakfast.

“Why didn’t he come home with you?”

“I panicked when I saw him sleeping next to me. I practically ran out of the room. I think he won’t remember a thing. At least I hope he doesn’t.”

“Why? You’ve known each other for thirteen years. You have feelings for each other for at least ten. I’m surprised it took this long for something to happen.”

“You don’t understand, Sam,” you shook your head. “I can’t ruin my friendship with him. I can’t risk that.”

“Of course you can. You’re just afraid.”

“Afraid of what?” Dean asked as he walked into the room. You nearly gasped. He shouldn’t be back already.

Dean was sporting a hickey on the right side of his neck. You felt your cheeks heat up at the sight of it.

“I’m afraid of spiders and I can’t kill them,” you said fast before Sam could say anything.

Dean only hummed, opening the fridge and grabbing a pot with overdue food. He put some in his mouth but spat most of it, grimacing. A chuckle left your lips at the scene.

“What you got?” he mumbled, turning on the coffee machine.

“Salt and burn. Omaha, Nebraska. Should be easy for you and Y/N.”

“You not tagging along?”

“Nah, got a date with Eileen,” Sam smiled.

“You’re finally getting some,” the older Winchester teased. “Y/N and I can cover it. We are a great team, right sweetheart?”

He gave you a wink. You wondered if he remembered anything of your activities the previous night.

“Right,” you clicked your tongue.

Dean grabbed his coffee and sat beside you. He stank of alcohol and sex. He should’ve gone straight to the shower but he didn’t. He was still in the same clothes as last night for crying out loud.

“Dude, you smell terrible,” Sam grimaced.

“That, Sammy, is the smell of a man who had a crazy night of hot sex. You should try it sometime.”

Fuck, he remembers, you cursed.

“You’re disgusting.”

“No, I’m not. It’s a shame I had what was probably the best night of my life and I don’t remember shit. Not even her face. She left without a note. She could at least have left her phone number somewhere. But she did leave this bad boy here,” he pointed to the purple mark in his neck.

You could only hope neither of them would notice your flaming cheeks. He was so close. You were afraid he’d take one look at your face and all the memories would come back to him. You were afraid he’d still be able to smell his scent ingrained in your skin.

“I do remember some things though. Hmmm, some really good things,” Dean nearly moaned as he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Sam quickly glanced at you, hazel eyes wide before staring back at his brother. “Whoever she was she surely knew what she was doing to me. Her body was trapped under mine as if she belonged there. Her hands all over my body, exploring it. Oh, and her skin felt so good under my touch. That I remember damn well.”

You fought hard to repress a moan. The words rolled out his tongue in a sensual song. Your thighs clenched unwittingly. Though you were as much aroused as you were embarrassed. He was saying all that in front of his brother after all. Sam didn’t want to know anything about Dean’s activities, but the look in his eyes told you he was having fun seeing you suffer.

“And she smelled good too. So fucking good. I swear that if I close my eyes, I can feel her touch. I can even hear her soft moans. What wouldn’t I give just to know her name.”

“Maybe you should try asking the bartender if he remembers her face or even her name,” Sam suggested and you kicked his foot under the table. “I’m sure he might remember something.”

“She felt absolutely perfect,” Dean completely ignored his brother. “The way her fingers tugged at my hair, making it hurt just a little. Then her legs wrapped around me and… fuck,” he growled. “That was mind-blowing. She clenched around me so tight-”

“Dude, too much information. You should keep that to yourself,” Sam interrupted his brother while you prayed neither of them had listened to the small groan that left your lips.

“All I’m saying is she was too fucking hot. I wished she could’ve had the decency of leaving me her number,” he sighed. “If you guys think this hickey is the only thing she left for me, you’re wrong. She might not have left a note, but she did leave some real sexy marks all over me. Hmm, I love it when they mark me up. So damn hot.”

“Dude-“

“And if I concentrate hard enough I can still taste her in my tongue,” Dean smirked.

“That’s enough, man. I’m gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”

Dean chuckled at his brother’s reaction and took one last gulp of his now lukewarm coffee.

“Excuse me, but I, uh, I’m gonna take a nap. I’m tired,” you hurriedly stood from your seat. “I’ll catch with you guys later.”

As you disappeared in the hall, Dean’s grin got even wider as he shook his head. Sam scoffed, realization dawned on him.

“You remember, don’t you?” Sam asked his brother, a smile on his lips.

“Every single detail,” Dean nodded with a smirk.

“Dude, you aren’t worth a penny.”

“What can I say? I love seeing her squirm.”

“You should go after her.”

“I am,” Dean said. “I’m just gonna give her some time to pull herself together.”

Sam nodded. Silence fell between the brothers. Each of them lost in their own world. Dean tried to come up with a way to approach you without making it weird. Sam tried to erase the images his brother put in his mind. The younger Winchester was sure he threw up in his mouth a little. Dean had given him a share of traumas concerning sex when they were teenagers and now this?

Dean got up from his seat and before he headed to your bedroom, he placed his mug on the dishwasher. He was about to leave the kitchen but stopped and glanced at his brother.

“You were the only one who didn’t score last night, Samuel,” he teased and Sam rolled his eyes.

Three soft knocks on the door startled you, dragging you out of your trance. Mumbling a “c’mon in”, you straightened yourself at the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” Dean smiled, peeking his head through the door.

“Hi,” you smiled, a thumping beat of your heart in your chest.

Dean made his way to your bed and sat just a few inches from you. His thigh brushing against yours.

“How’re you feeling?” He glanced at you but your eyes were fixated on the closed door.

“Really tired. You?”

“Exhausted. Don’t know if I should take a shower or a nap.”

“I think you need both,” you smiled as a chuckle reverberated in his throat.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he clicked his tongue, green eyes falling in his hands as he rubbed them together. “You know, I must confess that you did rock my world last night.”

“You remember?” You stared at him wide eyed only to meet a crooked grin on his lips. “Of course you do,” groaning, you buried your face in your hands.

“How could I ever forget?”

“We had a lot of drinks. A whole lot.”

“Yeah, guess I just needed to get my ass drunk to finally go after something I wanted.”

“Don’t do this, Dean,” you pleaded, staring into his forest green eyes.

“I thought last night meant something, you know? I thought it would change things between us for the best. I couldn’t believe I was the only one feeling something. Not with the way we look at each other and the constant flirting and the way we hold each other. Now imagine my disappointment when I woke up and you weren’t there.”

“Dean, I-“

“I thought you were gonna be there. I thought we were gonna talk and figure things out between us, but you didn’t even give me a chance. It felt as if you regretted it, as if what happened between us was a mistake,” his voice was low, barely upon a whisper.

“No, Dean, I don’t regret it,” you shook your head. “It wasn’t a mistake but we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Why? Why shouldn't we have done it? Give me one good reason why.”

“Because we are friends and I don’t want to ruin that.”

“We were never friends, Y/N. I feel something for you from day one. And I know you feel something for me too. Now you either-“

You captured his plump lips in yours. His eyes widened and it took him a second before kissing you back. His hand cupped your face, thumb caressing your cheek. The gentle press of his lips almost made your heart leap out of your chest. He pulled away a little too soon for your liking. Dean placed a small peck to your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

“Now I either what?” You giggled, opening your eyes and finding his still closed.

“I don’t know,” Dean chuckled. “Guess this changes things, right?”

“Mmhmm,” your hands were on each side of his neck as you pecked his lips.

“Good.”

“I hate to tell you but you need a shower.”

“Yeah, I do,” he said sheepishly, his hands were on your waist as he moved you to straddle his lips. “But I think you should come with me. You know, that whole save water, shower together thing.”

“Hmmm, I’ve kinda already showered.”

“Do it again. I promise you won’t regret it,” he smirked.

“I thought you said you hated shower sex. You said it was too complicated.”

“I don’t hate it. It is complicated though, but I’m sure we can work things out,” he grinned, standing up with you in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “‘Sides, you ought to see all the damage you caused last night.”

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Winchester.”

I’d love to know what you think of this one!! Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog or ask!

Note that if your name is crossed, tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you :(

Forevers: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore

Dean Sweethearts: @maya-craziness​ @akshi8278​ @herfalsegod​ @witch-of-letters​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​

[lavaffair]

Just Admit It

Inukag Fluff Week Prompts: Touch and Pining

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33211216

Having a crush on someone can be wonderful, but also incredibly unfair. The hours spent daydreaming about the person who gives your stomach butterflies seem to be more fun than having the actual crush. Experiencing this vulnerable feeling because of a person is actually quite terrifying and painful. Most of the time, crushes lead to heartbreak and letting go of the person who never gave you a chance.

Being in love with a person can be extremely intense, almost obsessive, and beautiful if done right. When someone’s feelings reach this level, it begins to cut deeper beyond the surface, into dangerous and uncharted territory. Especially if the person you are in love with has absolutely no idea of your true feelings towards them.

For Kagome Higurashi, her feelings towards her best friend Inuyasha Taisho went way beyond a crush. She was in love with her best friend, so in love that it hurt her, and she was too afraid to ever tell him about them.

The risk of ruining her lifelong friendship of 16 years was too scary to think about. Kagome could never think of her life without Inuyasha, he was always there to annoy her, get her angry, protect her, and support her whenever and wherever. When he yelled at the bigger kids for making fun of her name when they were five, or afterward when she pushed someone away from him when they pulled on his ears, they made a pack to back each other up. The friendship just blossomed after that.

Of course, they made more friends along the way, which included Sango and Miroku; whom they met in middle school, but their friendship never changed. They knew each other better than anyone else, and they have had the uncomfortable and awkward conversations that come up between teenagers, and so they have seen it all.

They have been there for each other when their hearts have been broken, when they had fights with others, and when they have personal issues. The bond between them was so strong that even the idea of it breaking caused Kagome a ton of stress. She could not do it and would not do it. At the end of the day, they will be in each other’s friend zone and they will die in the friend zone.

She was convinced that Inuyasha had zero feelings for her. He has seen her at her worst, and probably only looks at her like a sister. There was no way he could feel anything more for her.

This is why seeing him flustered and awkward about having to share a bed together did not raise any suspicions. It was obvious he was just a bit uncomfortable with the situation since it has been years since they have shared a bed with each other. They are both in their early twenties now, and sharing a bed was very intimate at this age compared to at 13.

“Yash, I could go downstairs right now and ask for another room. You look like you’re going to have a heart attack.” Kagome grinned at him, trying her best to suppress her shyness.

“Tch. We tried that already! That old hag wasn’t budgin’. This is the last time we let Miroku make hotel reservations.” He anxiously paced around the room.

“I can’t believe they don’t have any rooms with two beds. It’s not like it’s a special weekend or anything, it’s not even that busy this time of year.” She could not help but bite her bottom lip while watching him pace the room. His anxiety was getting to her.

“Well. We’re stuck here now, I tried all of my tricks but that lady wouldn't budge. We just gotta figure this out.”

He disappeared into the closet and pulled out an extra blanket provided by the hotel and placed it on the ground beside the huge bed. It was soft and fluffy enough to provide some comfort, but Kagome knew his back was going to hurt tomorrow and beyond that. They are staying at this hotel for the next few days, and until they can find a new room, they will have to make due.

“Inuyasha, we can just share the bed.” She tried speaking logic into him.

Inuyasha hoped she missed the way his body jolted at her offer because it was an intense one. Share a bed? With his best friend, whom he also harbored feelings for? Not a chance. Not when it was hard for him to even look at her without thinking about all the ways he could hold her.

He was down bad, he just refused to make it obvious. Instead, he played off his feelings for her by being extra rude sometimes. It helped mask his feelings and it was believable because he was naturally a huge jerk. Of course, he has gotten softer because of Kagome, but he turns it on when he needs it. Right now, he was too flustered to even pretend to act like a cocky bastard.

He and Kagome have not shared a bed since they were pre-teens, and that was before puberty kicked in. It took him a while to notice it at first, but when Inuyasha realized he had developed feelings for his best friend, he knew he had to shut it down immediately. He saw the changes she went through, and how she went from this annoying, loud, bossy little girl into this independent and beautiful woman. It was too much for him, and it happened overnight. He sucks at handling his feelings, he is not the best with women, and thus concludes him knowing he is not good for her.

Kagome deserved better, she deserved more than him. Some guy who can talk about his feelings and does not want to punch almost every frustrating person in the face. He was in love with her, so in love, he would sacrifice his chance of happiness just to see her happy with someone else. He will support her from the sidelines, like any good best friend, while his heart tears away at the idea of a love that did not get a chance.

Her friendship was enough for him. That is what he told himself every day.

“No.” He replied flatly. “You probably still kick in your sleep.”

“I do not kick!” He heard her shout.

He laughed, “Tell that to my legs. I think they’re still bruised.”

Of course, he did not miss the way she scoffed as she got the bed ready to sleep in. He could hear her breathing from across the room, her sweet, natural scent filling the space every time she moved around and it was intoxicating.

“Don’t be such a big baby!” She padded the pillows for extra fluff. “You’re a demon, my kicks don’t even hurt you.”

He poked his head out from the closet, looking for anything extra to put on his makeshift bed other than bath towels. “Half demon,” he corrected. “And yes they do.”

She blew out some air from her lungs and padded over towards him, her little feet tip-tapping on the carpet floor. “Inuyashaaaa,” she whined. “If I promise to not kick you, will you please sleep on the bed?”

He swallowed hard, his nerves getting the best of him as he cleared his throat. It took him a second to compose himself before exploding, and then he put on his best face. He raised an eyebrow at her, a smirk playing on his lips with a little fang poking out.

“So you admit that you do kick now. huh?”

Kagome rolled her eyes, immediately walking away from him with her arms crossed against her chest. “You’re impossible!”

After a few seconds of comfortable silence, he heard her zip and unzip her luggage and heave a sigh. “I’m going to change really quickly. I’ll be right back.”

He grunted in return and quickly changed into some sweats and a loose-fit tee shirt. His makeshift bed was as good as it was going to get, the fluffy comforter folded on the ground providing some back support. There were no more extra blankets, but Kagome always brought an extra for traveling, so he would just use hers to sleep in.

Little sounds were coming out from the bathroom and he knew she was doing her nightly routine of skincare and hair brushing. Out of all the women he has ever met, Kagome was the one always on top of her routines. He knew she had one in the morning and one at night, and the only reason why she was not taking her nightly shower was because of how tired she was after a long travel day.

The sound of clothes coming off and then rustling back on her skin was extremely distracting, so he decided to focus on the interesting floor lamp in the corner of the room. It had a rustic-colored body, with a cream-colored lampshade over the light bulb, and it was as boring as any other floor lamp in existence.

The door to the bathroom clicked open, and the sweet scent that was Kagome hit his nose instantly. It was never enough for him and he was so selfish he always wished for more. The citrusy scent mixed with vanilla was expected after she stayed in the bathroom for so long, but he did not expect his heart to skip a beat when he laid eyes on her in her pajamas. To anyone else, it would just be plain sleepwear, but seeing her in a pink tee-shirt and shorts set was driving him insane. There were little white stars decorating the entire ensemble, and Inuyasha could not believe Kagome could get any cuter.

“Nice PJs, what are you, five?” He teased, if only she knew he was dying inside.

She glared at him in return, “At least my pajamas are more fun. You’re in the same thing you always wear.”

“Kagome, you never see me when I’m going to bed.” He was trying really hard to stop himself from stuttering.

“You’re right, but I see you in the mornings when you’re a grump. You don’t change out of them unless you have somewhere to go.”

“I didn’t come here to get chastised for my taste in sweatpants, Kags.”

She giggled and it sent a jolt of electricity into his system. “That may be true, but when we get back home I’m buying you new pajamas. I’ll get some cute ones for you.”

The half-demon narrowed his amber eyes at her, “You’re gonna get matching onesies ain't ya?”

Shrugging her shoulders and shooting him a cheeky little smile, she skipped to her giant bed and left his question unanswered. Choosing to turn off the lights instead, and leaving the duo in the dark.

Cheeky wench he thought.

There was nothing else for either of them to do but get comfortable in bed to sleep. Everyone in the group had had a long day, and he was sure Sango and Miroku were already asleep in the room across from theirs. He was thankful the universe spared him from having to listen to anything that was not snoring.

“What time do you think we’ll all be up by tomorrow?” He heard Kagome ask from above him.

As he made himself comfortable on the floor with the fluffy pillow Kagome had given him he answered, “Hopefully not at noon. I’ll push you off the bed and bang on their door until yer all awake.”

She laughed, “You’ll get us kicked out if you do that.”

“Yeah?” Well, maybe we can find a hotel that has rooms with two beds.” He grumbled.

“Sharing a bed is not a big deal!” Kagome lied, because to her it would definitely be a big deal.

To the blushing half-demon sleeping on the ground, it was also a very big deal. “Goodnight Kagome.”

Kagome pouted, thankful that he could not see the disappointment on her face. “Fine, don’t be extra grumpy when your back hurts tomorrow.”

They flipped on their sides facing away from each other and attempted to sleep. Kagome was doing well, the giant bed was super comfortable and it would bring her to sleep in no time. Except, she could listen to Inuyasha shuffling over on the floor knowing he was trying to find a comfortable position.

A frustrated grunt had her fluttering her eyes open and groggy from sleep. She wondered how long she had been out, and she would ask Inuyasha but he was still tossing and turning on the floor. She rubbed her eyes and let out a tiny yawn before scooting over to the side to look at him.

At the moment, he was fighting with Kagome’s blanket and was one minute closer to taking the car keys and sleeping inside the car.

“Inuyasha?” he heard her ask. Her voice was soft and sounded small, she looked tired and in much need of sleep.

“Kags? Hey, sorry for waking you.” He said apologetically.

She shook her head with a little smile to show him she felt no animosity towards him. “Yash, you’re uncomfortable. Please come to bed.”

“You say that like it’s easy..” he muttered over his beating heart. She was so tired, and yet here she was still concerned over him and putting his needs before her own.

“It’s not easy.” She replied sleepily.

“What?” He sat up from his floor bed and looked at her. Her eyes were glossed over, and a little smile was painted on her face. “Kags, what do you mean?”

She shrugged awkwardly in her laying down position and yawned again. “I like you, so, it’s not easy for me to tell you that.. but you can’t sleep on the floor.”

Inuyasha’s face heated up instantly, a blush so red and deep that he could make tomatoes jealous of its color. There was no way she was telling him the truth. There was absolutely no way she was reciprocating his feelings right now, because this all seems too good to be true, and nothing this amazing ever happens to him. He was already lucky enough to call her his best friend, but for her to like him back when he had never told her was more than he could have asked for.

Her words processed rather quickly, and Kagome shot up from the bed. suddenly wide awake. There was absolutely no way she just said that to him. Every second that passed caused her to overthink everything, and she felt like her friendship with him was slipping out of her fingers the more time passed.

“I- I mean! Um.. no? Uh. I didn’t say that! Forget what I said!” She laughed nervously, “Haha funny joke!”

Her stuttering was going through one fluffy ear and out of the other because he was still trying to process what she said. He could see her better than she could see him, and her blushing face did not match the denial she was spewing at him.

“Would you laugh too if I told you I felt the same way?” His voice wavered during his confession while his stomach made flips.

“You…” Kagome paused and took a deep breath in a failed attempt to get herself to relax. “You like me too?”

“Yep.”

“..For how long?”

“Since I turned 13 and saw you in that one blue dress at the school dance.” There was no going back for him now.

She remembered that day pretty easily because it was one of her most cherished memories. It was the middle school dance, and everyone was super excited to find someone to go with. Naturally Kagome went with Inuyasha since they were so inseparable, and she wanted to surprise him and go in her new blue dress. That whole night Inuyasha was acting weirder than usual, but she thought it was because of the school dance, not because of her or her blue dress.

“What about you?” His question dragged her out of her thoughts.

“Around the same time as you, except it was after the dance. Yura cut off some of my hair because she was kinda obsessed with it, and mama had to even it out afterward. It was so short, and I hated it! But you came up to me when I was crying and told me I was pretty with my short hair, and then you yelled at Yura the next day.

“That’s when I sort of figured I liked you more than just as my best friend.” She admitted.

The two best friends stared at each other in bewilderment due to their confessions. The words they shared are still floating above them like small clouds. The fear of their feelings staying one-sided was nothing but a fluke now, because their feelings were reciprocated.

“Do you um..” Kagome coughed, “Wanna get off the floor and talk about it some more?” She padded the mattress for emphasis.

He was sure he looked like an idiot with how fast he got up from the carpet. Maybe she did not see it that way, but he sure did feel that way. He felt like he was floating even with his body now firmly on the large bed. He left a small space between them, on the off chance that he was reading into it too much.

It was quiet between them and sleep was still creeping onto them like a predator watching its prey.

“You know I expected my confession to you to be kinda dramatic.” Kagome laughed, “Like, we have a huge fight and we’re yelling at each other from across the room and then you say something stupid and I just kinda scream it out.”

The half-demon raised a brow at her in amusement. “You watch way too many movies, Kagome.”

She pushed on his shoulder in mock offense, “Don’t pretend like you don’t sit there and watch them with me!”

“That’s because you force me to watch them with you. How many times have we seen the Notebook? I lost count!”

“Okay, okay, first of all, we haven’t seen the Notebook since high school. I’ll admit we saw it too often, but not recently!”

“Yeah?” He grinned at her, his fang poking out only adding to the effect he has on her. “Doesn’t mean we haven’t seen similar movies.”

She huffed, “I’m a sucker for romance. You can’t blame me for that.”

Inuyasha watched as her lips turned out into a little pout and she puffed out her chest. Those same lips he has always caught himself staring too hard at, the ones he thought about kissing everyday but knew he never could. Well, here was his chance; and she was sitting right in front of him.

Before he could back out of it, he leaned in closer to her face and stared directly into her dark brown eyes. Her breath caught in her throat and the little gasp she let out echoed his ears. Her breath fawned over his lips as she realized how close they were to touching. Her eyes flicked from his golden ones to his lips, and then back to his eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked her breathlessly. He was totally enthralled by her and her full, parted lips.

She nodded in anticipation knowing that her voice would fail her if she tried to speak.

His lips were on hers instantly as he drank her in like water. They were as soft and plush as he expected them to be but they were also even more than that. Their lips molded against each other so easily it was strange to think about why he waited so long to do this in the first place. The kiss they shared was sweet and cautious but still electrifying. He did not want to scare her away in case she backed out of it, but little did he know she was savoring this moment between them.

Slowly, they parted ways as they tried to catch their breath. Inuyasha noted how cute she looked with pink-tinted cheeks, kiss swollen lips, and sparkling eyes as she looked at him. He could not stop the grin from showing up on his face after finally being able to kiss the girl of his dreams, the same girl that was a bit too far from him at the moment.

“Come ‘ere.” He slurred, his voice deep and rich with admiration. He extended his arms to her and beckoned her towards him with a blush still on his cheeks.

Without saying a word she crawled over to him and broke the remaining space they had between them. She fit into his lap so perfectly and she never wanted to live a life where she could not do this again. The butterflies in her stomach were eating her alive but she powered through the feeling and laid her head on his shoulder. His strong arms embraced her small figure and pressed her into him while he fought the nerves in his body to relax. This was still extremely new to the both of them, but suddenly they wanted to be as close to each other as possible.

They sat together like this for a few minutes until Inuyasha noticed that Kagome was starting to drift away into sleep again. Even the excitement of a love confession was not strong enough against the pull of sleep.

“Kags,” he whispered. “Let’s lay down. You need to sleep more comfortably.”

She protested, “But I’m comfy here.”

Before she could say anything more he quickly changed their position and laid down on the bed. With one arm still holding Kagome snuggly on him, he used the other to bring up the giant comforter to cover the both of them. He was glad they both decided to leave the lights off during the entire ordeal they had earlier so he did not have to get up and ruin her comfortable position.

Kagome was thankful for the lights staying off too because she was not going to let Inuyasha go even for a second. Miroku and Sango might be extremely confused tomorrow morning when they notice the change in dynamic but that will be tackled when they get to it. Right now, she is way more content with her head on his chest and his hand on her back.

Before she officially dozed off into slumber, she kissed his chin and snuggled into him. With her head on his chest, she could hear the erratic beating of his heart after her surprise kiss. He said nothing as he listened to her breathing steadily with every minute that passed until her grip on his arm went slack.

Inuyasha had not expected so much to happen between them in a span of a few hours. Their dynamic now changed forever. He was aware that they still had more to talk about, but for now, he was going to cherish this moment with her. He kissed her forehead one more time out of pure need and desire before settling in to catch some sleep.

He would never deny sharing the bed with her ever again.

[neoraso]

royal guard!minho

requested | some gender neutral hc for how he starts to wish he was maybe more than just a guard to you 

to put things lightly, minho was the ace of your entire guard

like he was better than anyone …at everything

so originally he was on (your father) the king’s immediate guard

he was nothing but professional and saved the king too many times to count even from like stepping on rocks idk 

when you turned like 17 and had to do more public appearances obv u were in a lot more danger so ur father jumped at having minho reassigned to u as the head of your personal guard “nothing but the best for his child”

the first time you met him… he only nodded or said yes or no to everything u asked him n ur jus like ok not much of a talker that’s not so bad ig haha ʕʘ‿ʘʔ

he was so quiet and “polite” for months despite you constantly trying to get something out of him

ur other guards always tried not to laugh bc if only u knew he had like two friends and was generally a pretty serious guy

but one day there was a festival in your kingdom’s central city so obv you had to make an appearance which u were very excited abt bc you only get to go into town like twice a year and THIS was one of those times

being “of age” and that much closer to taking the throne you might as well have painted a big red target on your head to signal people against the throne

everything was going fine, everyone was having fun and you decided to visit some of the booths and musicians around the square

minho was already suspicious of the situation and tightens the rest of your guard without u evenn rlly noticing but like

just as you turned to show these cute little candies to minho to maybe get a reaction for once -

the second he looks at you, someone moves to grab you but the flash of a knife in his other hand causes minho to jump immediately into action

honestly who knows what rlly happened minho moved so damn fast but the next thing you know, ur in the middle of your whole guard squad

looking through the gaps of their shoulders you see minho pinning down your assailant with a blade against his neck waiting for someone to arrest him even though he rlly wanted to just execute the guy right there 

the festivities were kind of killed for u after that bc you and your family were rushed back home which u might’ve been more sad abt if u werent in so much shock :<

obv minho was the one to escort you back but like all he said was “you’re okay?” and after u dumbly nodded with wide eyes he walked with you but kept a hand around your shoulder

no one really talked after that which wasn’t unusual for him but in his mind he was rlly like 

���?? ok i know its literally my job to protect this family but?? hm whyyyy do i seem to care sm more rnnn??//?” help him sdhskjd

u just looked so shaken up and disappointed and suddenly he was like damn </3 they rlly have no fun in their life and this one time they could was ruined :///

u had to stay inside for weeks after that bc it turns out there was a whole conspiracy to “eliminate” your family line so you waited in safety until the criminals were “taken care of” 

minho had everything triple checked around the castle for your safety and secretly made sure you had extra treats and warm drinks sent to your room sometimes with little notes that he had the cook pretend to have sent because lately he’d heard you had trouble sleeping sometimes he’s shy boy aw

he started to realize how much he had gotten used to your smile and your little jokes and the way you sometimes tripped on the corners of rugs. and he thought maybe it was a good thing you guys didnt have many interactions lately because he was way too attached

you on the other hand, couldnt even rlly complain about having to stay inside so much bc you had everything you needed and- you knew it was for ur safety but- it wassss kind of suffocating at times

u tried sneaking out at first ((just to the garden!!)) which obviously was a bad idea bc it’s impossible to get past minhos fcking hawk eyes lmao

he STILL didnt say anything like he would just follow right behind you

n like u kinda huffed but whatever honestly at least it was just him and not 15 other guards like everyone acted like you needed

plus it was somewhat comforting to have someone so solid around even if he never talked smh

one night you sat near the little pond and tried to calm your mind by watching how the moonlight rippled in the water

you can feel him behind you so u just turn around and look at him ignoring how he was already looking at you

 “would you at least sit with me?”

he kind of hesitates bc …what if someone tried to come up behind you? but with the sad look on your face he cant help but give in and sits on the stone bench at the opposite end of you

it becomes actually somewhat peaceful until you just decide to ask everything you’ve been wondering n u just blurt out-

“would it kill you to talk with me once in a while? i mean, talk like a normal person and not a machine? i dont bite i promise..”

he furrows his brow bc he’s shocked you cared at all and also he doesnt rlly know how to respond without being like “its not really in my job description to make conversation” but he honestly just thought you were being talkative out of niceties.

 before he could even form a sentence you continued,

“i mean- i’m always trying to get your attention. i dont get to meet many people for obvious reasons but my guards are the closest people to me-literally, and i dont want there to be a big gap between us just because of my status..”

he cuts you off before you ramble yourself to death 

“i didn’t know you were this troubled by it… i just take my job very seriously and i dont want to risk anyone’s safety for the sake of conversation”

u almost roll ur eyes but not wanting to be rude ur just like “even at home? i know you’re serious about your duties, believe me, i just… i get lonely.”

smthing inside him literally breakkkssss when you say that like u are such a pure and sweet person that deserves to have all the love and friends and fun in the world so he just gets quiet for a second and looks down

“im sorry.” he said it so softly you almost didnt hear him “i’ll be there for you more- if thats what you need. im essentially in charge of your safety and care and i’ll do anything to fulfill that responsibility.”

ok.

well this was good right? so why did you still feel unsatisfied?

“i dont want to just be a responsibility, cant we just be like friends? or…”

you cut yourself off before talking too much again

you had to admit to yourself you had developed a bit of a liking for minho, not just because he was probably the most handsome person in your kingdom, not even just because he saved your life, but he had really been a pillar of security in your life and you respected his loyalty and ambition.

he was more than admirable and everything you wanted as a standard for your kingdom

sometimes you let your mind wander to him getting on one knee and leading alongside you..

no, now youre getting sidetracked and delusional and he can practically hear the gears turning in your head so he stands up and reaches his hand out for you to grab 

“of course you’re more than a responsibility to me, come on, lets go inside it’s getting cold.’

taking his hand and realizing the conversation was over, you moved to link arms instead  as he walked you all the way to your bedroom door 

u slept a lot better that night 

from that point on you could not get rid of minho 

like everyone was borderline uncomfortable with how jarring his change in attitude was 

like he was constantly behind you looking right over your shoulder or grabbing your arm to stop you from bumping into things

even when he wasnt technically on duty he had taken it upon himself to give you little lessons in archery and even some defensive moves to help you protect yourself in case someone wasnt fast enough to help you 

your tried not to get flustered every time he adjusted your form and the way you could feel his breath behind your ear

or the head pats when he walked you to your room at night

or his hand on your back when you guys would take walks in the garden

honestly it did not take long until one night you were sat next to your pond and after some comfortable small talk you noticed how close his face was to yours

but he noticed you didn’t pull away even as he leaned in closer and finally just kissed you

when he pulled away and saw your eyes still closed and how soft you looked his heart almost exploded

“i didnt mean to make things weird i just,, couldnt help myself, sorry”

his rushed confession pulls you out of your daze and you’re so happy (a little shocked) but you’re quick to reassure him

“it’s ok, i’ve been wanting you to do that for a while …”

he’s jus like “rlly?😳”

obviously this complicates things a lot and you aren’t really sure if you would even be allowed to have a relationship with minho bc of ur position

or if he would get in trouble for breaking the rules of attachment to u

all of this is kind of racing thru both of ur minds as you look at each other but you laugh after u both start talking at the same time

you prod him to go first so he grabs your hands and says like

“look i care about you a lot, and i know we’re not really supposed to be doing this but if i can be by your side … beyond my duties…i would really love to. but if we can’t, i can survive with just being here to protect and serve you in anyway i can”

he’s so honest and genuine and earnest it shocked u a little

even tho you were uncertain abt the situation as well you knew you had grown a little too fond and dependent on minho that you would do anything to make it work

luckily an arranged marriage was not required for you so that wasnt really the issue, but falling in love with someone not at all royal..? it was a daunting thought how the idea would be perceived 

you wouldnt have said anything if you both weren’t completely sure of your feelings;  but you really could not imagine being content or safe spending your life with anyone else so you mustered up the courage to ask the king and queen…

when you brought it up to your parents they looked pretty concerned

minho went on the whole “i’ll do anything to protect them and this kingdom” speech and your father just waved him off and was like

“i know u would …. i’ll allow it because there’s really no one better to represent the kingdom and because i want only the best for my child ;)”

u and minho were literally in shock but just quietly said thank u and left the room

when you had privacy he immediately pulled you in for a kiss (maybe several all over ur face)

you had a lot to figure out and many responsibilities but now you had an amazing person by your side to help you through it :.) <3

[mingkily]

｡☆✼★━ [11:17] | s.mg ━★✼☆｡

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“so you got me this sweater so you could wear it?”

“so we could wear it.”

in the one and a half years you’d known mingi already, he’d made it a point to run around the entire flat every single time there was an occasion for him to receive presents as if you, for some reason unbeknownst to everyone but him, had decided to hide his presents the way was so common for easter, even when it wasn’t at all easter. no matter how often you’d told him that no, you hadn’t hidden anything, the presents he received were the only presents there were, he would always run around and look for more. so for him to miss a present that was literally right underneath the christmas tree just because it was wrapped in green wrapping paper instead of the usual bright red one was hilarious to you, and you couldn’t help but laugh as he investigated the crime scene that was your bathroom (why he thought you’d hide a christmas present in the bathroom you’d never know), entirely oblivious to the present waiting for him right there in your little living room.

“why are you laughing?”, your boyfriend asked, exasperatedly, running his hands through his hair before he opened the toilet’s cistern and continued his search for whatever presents he assumed you’d hidden, and then: “i knew there were more presents! why can’t you just tell me where they are?”, and he sounded so whiny that, as much as you didn’t want to laugh at him because you loved him and because he was adorable, your laughter only increased.

“you’re so mean!”, that pout on his face that you by now knew to be only partly authentic, but also partly there because he had learned that if he pouted at you you’d give in to him within a few minutes. knowing that this was just a strategy to get you to reveal your secrets didn’t mean that you were immune to him, though.

so, because you loved him so much and because you didn’t want to see him even the tiniest bit upset, you offered: “give me a kiss and i’ll show you the last present.”

he did as asked without hesitation, abandoned the cistern to give you his undivided attention, and to give you a kiss, too, a sweet kiss that had you know that he really wanted this present, but that also had you know that he really adored you.

“show me now?”, he murmured against your lips as he broke the kiss, but you didn’t want to just yet, wanted another kiss because really, how could you not? so you took advantage of the current position and pulled him against you for another kiss, though you kept it short because you had promised him that you’d show him the present after the first and you didn’t want to keep him waiting, no matter how much you enjoyed kissing him.

“now”, you promised, and kept that promise right away, too, by dragging him back to the living room, where you revealed the present he had so expertly missed, his eyes going wide as he realised that despite his careful examination of the christmas scene he had missed an entire present, and a rather big one at that.

“open it”, you urged him, and you didn’t have to tell him twice, his big hands ripping at the wrapping paper like an excited puppy would devour its very first newspaper, leaving little pieces of green to trickle onto the floor like snow.

“it’s soft!” was the first thing he noticed about the sweater that had been a group effort from you, hongjoong and yunho, hongjoong and you upcycling the sweater while yunho had been responsible for distracting his best friend so much that said best friend wouldn’t notice just how much time you’d been spending with the short man.

then, once the sweater was fully freed from its gift wrap constricts and spread out on your boyfriend’s much more spacious lap: “did you make this?”

because it was very much obvious that this was handmade, a somewhat wobbly tie dye heart adorning the middle of the sweater’s front, and a lot of tiny, equally wobbly drawings covering the rest of it. it wasn’t exactly pretty, but it had been made with love, and mingi could tell that you’d tried your hardest.

“hongjoong helped me because i’ve never done tie dye or anything before. but yeah, i made this”, smiling at him, though anxiously, part of you scared that he wouldn’t like it after you’d tried so hard to make something sweet and personal for him.

“it’s so cute! thank you”, and he pulled you towards him by your wrist, laughing when you near knocked him over but preventing the two of you from falling by using his free hand to keep his body up, offering himself as a shield to keep your face from having an unpleasant encounter with the floor.

“you like it?”, you asked him, having taken advantage of the position you’d ended up in by shuffling so your head was in his lap, looking up at him with your head resting where his ankles were crossed, body spread out in front of him like a leg extension.

“i love it! but”, now examining the sweater more closely and finding what he assumed to be a flaw caused by you not knowing his size and simply having opted for the biggest one since he always towered over you, “i’m not that big. this could probably fit two of me.”

you’d intended to wait a little longer with revealing the purpose of the sweater being way bigger than your boyfriend’s regular shirts - and those were usually already oversized -, but now that he’d put you on the spot and somewhat implied that you didn’t know his size, as if you weren’t paying attention to small details like that, you had to defend your honour, and this defending came at the expense of what you’d wanted to keep as a surprise for when he decided to wear the shirt to bed.

“not two of you”, you told him, mischief in your eyes, “one of you and one of me.”

though mingi didn’t yet understand the hidden purpose of his gift, just nodding at you as he approved of your statement.

“yeah, that would fit too.”

your adorable giant was a little slow sometimes, but that was part of why you loved him, and it wasn’t like you couldn’t help him understand.

“put it on”, you suggested, something he did without hesitation, near drowning in the massive but incredibly soft shirt, and he spread his arms to show it off to you who had now left your comfortable position on his lap to look at him and, once that was done, to join him in the sweater.

“now you look the way i feel when i wear your shirts”, you assessed with a smile, causing him to tease you a little.

“cute and really tiny?”

“yeah. now don’t move”, an order he followed despite not knowing why he was sentenced to immobility so suddenly, but he started to understand when you settled on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist, and pulled up his new shirt while simultaneously ducking your head a little before both of you were now wearing his sweater.

“i’m glad it works”, you told him with a sheepish grin on your face, weaseling your arms out from the sweater-y confinement they were currently trapped in through the neckline so you could wrap them around his neck in preparation of the armada of kisses that were without a doubt coming his way any second now.

“so you got me this sweater so you could wear it?”, pretending to be offended at your apparent greediness, wanting to wear his present, to which you replied: “so we could wear it”, followed by said armada of kisses which served well in making him shut up.

“this was such a cute idea”, your boyfriend praised your choice of gift once his lips were no longer falling victim to your incessant kissing, taking the chance to peck your chin because that was most easily reachable as you smiled at him proudly.

“i’m glad. so you’ll stop disassembling our flat on the hunt for more presents?”, a question that was equal parts hopeful and teasing - you still hadn’t forgotten the way he’d looked in the cistern for potential hidden presents, and you’d like for him to quit his efforts before he disassembled something that would be hard if not impossible to reassemble by yourself.

“mmh”, pondering for a moment with his face hidden in your neck, something you took as a good sign because as long as he kept his face there you weren’t at risk of him running off and dissecting your kitchen cupboards or anything of the sorts.

“please?”, you pleaded, knowing full well that he was hardly ever able to resist you when you whined like that, and it once more proved to be effective because he sighed out a “fine” against your neck before choosing to ruin your peaceful, relaxed state of mind instead of your furniture for once, with his chosen method of destruction being neck kisses that started out soft and sweet but that soon morphed into him tickling you, not letting up no matter how much you struggled in his hold.

“you can’t escape me. you’re stuck here”, he growled against your neck, a threat followed by even more kisses pressed to awfully ticklish spots, attacking ticklish spot after ticklish spot with a deadly precision because he knew where all of them were, usually doing his best to avoid them but now using the knowledge as means to aid in his loving torture.

“you’re stuck in my shirt”, he added on, still not letting up, and despite the way you were laughing you silently already cursed yourself. you shouldn’t have gotten him that damn shirt.

[danceworshipper]

The Family Business AU: Part 2

Part 1

Alright I honestly don't remember much of the game plot anymore and the memories feature didn't help much SO I apologize for this probably being horribly inaccurate to the game's canon. Eh, canon sucks anyway, this is an AU, whatever! Colette Belrose belongs to @gcldensnitch and Alex Vega belongs to @weirdcursedvaultkid

I do want to mention a couple things before the part starts. First, the way I headcanon Legilimency works is that it's a bit temperamental even for the most powerful Legilimens. Connect enough with a certain person, and disconnecting becomes harder and harder, and eventually you'll be linked forever with nothing to stop the transfer of thoughts and emotions. Second is about the twins. Tessa's got it really hard in this AU. Most of her development in 'canon' comes from her giving up the vaults and becoming more independent from Gracie, but that obviously didn't happen here because her family would never let her, so she has even more self worth issues than she should. About Gracie: from a young age she's been selected to be the heir, right? Her family and the other R members have always put her on a pedestal, and it's gone to her head a bit. She's a little too arrogant, and even too naive in a few ways. And she really doesn't know just how upset Tessa is, or how unworthy she feels, because unbeknownst to Gracie, Tessa's Occlumency is far stronger than hers. But both of them will get their proper development, I promise! They'll figure out just how fucked up their lives are soon enough.

Onto the story!

Are you questioning your grandmother's intelligence? Clarissa's stern voice rang through the twins' heads.

R's planned attack had not, in fact, gone as planned. Instead of throwing a few curses and leaving, as the agents were supposed to, they stayed and decided to duel with the twins and their friends, resulting in Ben getting a nasty curse to his leg that almost caused it to fall off. After a couple risky maneuvers to get the agents to finally leave, he was hurried to the Hospital Wing, where most of the friend group was at the moment. Thankfully they were paying Ben too much attention to notice that Gracie had crept away to the window to scream mentally at her mother - the only other member of R who possessed Legilimency. Tessa hoped that following her would make it look like they were just talking silently to each other. Clarissa hadn't taken too kindly to being shouted at in the middle of her lunch, unsurprisingly.

I'm questioning whether we're being given the correct information in the first place, or if Grandmother decided we don't need to be alerted when there's a change of plans, Gracie snapped. If I hadn't risked being outed by jumping in front of everyone else, he would have lost his leg!

And why do you care? I've heard your complaints about this young man. You don't even like him.

He's our friend!

Gracie, just stop, Tessa pleaded, grabbing Gracie's arm. She glanced over to Ben's bed; Ismelda (why was she even there?) was staring back at the two of them.

Sensing her sister's distress, Gracie followed Tessa's eyes to Ismelda, who kept her gaze. Tessa felt a wave of suspicion from Gracie. Either Gracie was so angry she wasn't keeping herself together well - which was very possible - or the twins' link had deepened without them realizing. Either option posed an issue.

I give you the information I've been given, Clarissa spoke, drawing their attention away from Ismelda. If you're truly this upset, I could have your grandmother stage a kidnapping so you may speak to her yourself.

No, no, Tessa interjected, not letting Gracie agree while still so uncontrolled. We can manage.

Good. I will be in contact on Tuesday to update you.

The intense headache Tessa had been feeling dispersed. Clarissa had closed their link. Tessa sighed, leaning back against the wall and finally dropping Gracie's arm. Legilimency over such long distances really took a toll on someone.

Gracie seemed fine though. Tessa knew she was just weaker.

You'd think the heir to the metaphorical throne would be shown a bit more respect, Gracie hissed. They really aren't doing themselves any favors here; I thought they wanted to bring in our generation? How in Salazar's name do they expect to gain more members if they keep fucking attacking them?!

Stop, please, Tessa begged, pressing her hand into her eyes. The anger Gracie was feeling was unnerving at this point, almost as if it was impossible for her to calm down, and Tessa could feel all of it like a fire burning in her heart. She didn't like being angry herself, so feeling someone else's anger was so much worse. Our link deepened.

Gracie's hand found hers and intertwined their fingers. It helped, just a little.

I noticed. Ismelda's still staring at us.

Tessa's eyes shot open. Ismelda had a blank look on her face. Too blank. Forced blank. What was she thinking? The idea to get into her mind was tempting, but Tessa had never liked using her Legilimency without permission. It just felt too violating; she would hate it if someone did it to her.

Gracie didn't have the same issue - within a second she was in Ismelda's head. This was important enough to warrant the intrusion, Gracie reasoned. No one could know until they had been recruited. The twins couldn't afford for anyone to be suspicious of them before they were able to get their most important people safe; Ismelda could ruin everything.

Thankfully, Ismelda hadn't drawn any connections to R yet - probably because she hadn't been very involved in the vaults and barely knew what R was, Gracie reminded herself. But Ismelda was very observant, and noticed almost every instance where the twins had mental conversations with each other or their mother.

The twins' Legilimency wasn't a secret. It may have been supposed to be, but in moments of blind panic an untrained Legilimens' mind will latch itself onto the nearest person to beg for help, and no one had been fully prepared for the Ice Vault, so Bill, Ben, and Rowan had very quickly realized the twins were not screaming out loud. The information spread quickly.

All things considered, it was fair for Ismelda to wonder why the twins sometimes chose to speak silently instead of out loud, and why they always seemed so upset while they were doing it. It was also fair for Ismelda to think that maybe the twins knew more than they were letting on. After all: it was true, they did. But she hadn't told anyone of her suspicions yet, which was the most important part, and she wasn't going to until she had proof.

Gracie extracted herself from Ismelda's head as smoothly as she could - the exit was always more noticeable than the entrance - but it didn't seem like the girl had felt anything. Gracie squeezed Tessa's hand.

"We're safe," she murmured aloud. No need to keep speaking silently, though neither of them closed the link. It was a strange sort of comfort to the both of them to keep their sister so close, even if their link was getting too deep to be completely safe.

"I don't like it when you do that," Tessa scolded gently. "What if someone invaded your mind without you knowing?"

"No one could," Gracie deflected. "Not even Mother can get in without permission."

Tessa shook her head in disapproval.

"It was important, Tessa. What if she started rumors we couldn't shut down? You know how Hogwarts is."

"I know."

"Come on." Gracie tugged Tessa's hand. "Lets go check on Ben."

The large crowd had mostly left, leaving just Alex, Merula, and Ismelda. Gracie idly wondered what Ben felt like being surrounded by Slytherin girls all the time.

"If they hadn't left I could have gotten some information out of them," Ben was saying. "We almost had them."

Merula scoffed. "If they hadn't left when they did you'd have to hop everywhere."

"A small price to pay if it meant we were closer to stopping them once and for all."

"I agree with Merula," Alex said. "Your health is more important, Ben. You'll have more opportunities."

"I wasn't concerned with his health!"

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

It seemed extra dark that night, sitting in the Slytherin Common Room with Colette as the fire died down. It was just Tessa awake; Colette had fallen asleep on her shoulder a while ago. Something about huddling under a blanket with a friend helped Tessa think more clearly, even without talking. The weight of Colette's head on her shoulder helped to ground her and remind her she wasn't alone.

Of course, even being comforted left Tessa feeling guilty these days. This was Colette. Colette, who had always been there, who always brought sunshine to the dark days. Colette, who had no idea that the girl she was sleeping on was technically her brother's superior in a wizard cult. Tessa had done nothing but betray Colette since the day they met. There were too many lies that would tear them apart, and Tessa selfishly remained anyway, taking the comfort Colette offered while tearing the girl down behind the scenes. How could she do this? What kind of monster took advantage of someone's kindness like this?

Times like this were when Tessa cursed R with her entire soul. She cursed her mother for bringing children into R, she cursed her grandmother for starting R in the first place, she cursed Vance for not giving his sisters the option to flee with him and for never contacting them, and most of all, she cursed herself for taking that stupid magical vow that meant she could never tell Colette any of this, because Colette was too good. She'd never join R, and when she inevitably found out, Tessa would never be able to explain herself. When that happened, Tessa would lose Colette forever.

The link Tessa shared with her twin flared just a little, grief seeping in and mixing with what she was already feeling. It was too muted for Gracie to be awake. Bad dream? Tessa let her mind expand into Gracie's to try and calm her - one of them needed to be well rested, at least, and Gracie was the stronger of them in every way. Whatever dream she was having lost its grip on her as Tessa yanked on it, leaving no trace and no more grief spilling over. Good.

This was Tessa's only way of protecting her sister. Gracie was always the one who led in battles, who talked their way out of things, who people respected. Tessa was a follower, nothing more. It hurt, but at least Tessa knew that she could keep people safe like this. Her first practices with using her Legilimency undetected were on her friends as they slept, trying to influence their dreams, and nightmares were always easy to dispel. Fears never mean as much when you can't remember them. To Gracie's knowledge, she hadn't had a bad dream since she was thirteen, except on the nights they shared nightmares.

The only downside was that dispelling a nightmare sent the sadness, fear, and/or pain barreling into Tessa in full force.

As Tessa let the tears she didn't understand fall down her face, the fire flickered more, casting just a bit more light into the room, illuminating Liz as she appeared from the hallway to the dorms.

"There you guys are," she whispered. "I woke up to go to the bathroom and you weren't there."

"Sorry," Tessa responded. She felt Colette stir.

Liz frowned, coming closer. "Are you crying?"

"Yeah, uh, it's nothing." Just the fact that Tessa was a horrible human being.

"What time is it?" Colette asked, lifting her head but not moving away.

"Maybe three?" Liz guessed. "I didn't look. What's wrong, Tessa?"

Tessa shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. "Nothing." She didn't know what her sister had been dreaming about.

Liz and Colette shared a look, then Liz sat down on Tessa's other side and leaned into her.

"You don't have to tell us, but we're here for you."

That makes it worse, Tessa wanted to say, but how could she? How could she explain that she didn't deserve any compassion?

"We love you," Colette said quietly. "You're getting worse, Tessa, and we just want to help in any way we can. But you have to let us."

I'm in a cult! I'm a liar! I'm a monster and you need to get away from me before my family kills you!

Nothing came out but sobs that were fully hers, so her friends held her tightly through the night, whispering reassurances that made Tessa want to throw up.

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

"You can admit you have a heart, Merula, it's okay."

"Vega!"

Gracie rolled her eyes. "It's okay, love, we know you don't care about anyone."

"I didn't say that either!"

Alex grinned. "So you do have a heart?"

Merula angrily scooped more fruit onto her plate. "Get me the dip," she demanded, and Gracie passed it over. The seasonal October dip had always been Merula's favorite.

"Why are you so interested in me anyway?" Merula asked Alex. "Shouldn't you be fussing over Copper still?"

"I already visited him earlier."

"I swear you're in love with that loser."

"He's not a loser!"

"At least the two of you would be a good match."

"Merula!"

"Would you two just kiss already?" Gracie taunted, rolling her eyes. "We can't have one breakfast where someone isn't bickering with someone."

"Are you seriously insinuating I want to kiss Vega?" Merula asked in disgust. "You're the one dating me!"

"And I regret it more every day."

"Hey!"

"I could date Rowan. It would be much more peaceful."

Rowan winked across the table.

Merula huffed, but thankfully shut up. She knew Gracie was just joking. Besides, Rowan would never lower her standards enough to date Gracie of all people, and it was well theorized that Alex did in fact fancy Ben. Gracie didn't understand that in the slightest, but whatever made her happy.

Alex was pouting into her eggs. Why did she take Merula's insults so seriously? At this point it should be obvious she didn't mean it. Still, Gracie kicked her girlfriend under the table, jerking her head at Alex.

Merula scowled.

Gracie kicked her again.

"You're not a loser Vega," Merula said. "Copper is though, and I stand by that."

Alex smiled a little. "You can think that, but he's awesome."

"I could kick his ass easily," Merula boasted.

And: more bickering. At least this was a bit more friendly.

"Chiva."

Gracie and Tessa both turned around. Ismelda was standing behind them.

"Yeah?"

"Cursed Chiva."

Tessa turned back around, tension radiating off her. She was always nervous these days. Gracie wished she could help Tessa see that everything would be okay. The two of them could protect their friends if something went wrong, because they knew spells only family was ever capable of, and if it really came down to it, R members all knew that they would be executed if they harmed the twins. They could use their bodies as shields, like Gracie had done for Ben.

On a more morbid note, Lorraine was old. It couldn't be too much longer before she either died or had to step down, and then Gracie would be the leader and exempt from the oath keeping her quiet. Once their friends found out why the twins had been lying to them, they'd understand. Sure, they'd be upset, but they were good people and they'd forgive them. Gracie had a lot of reform she wanted to do anyway, and after that was taken care of, their friends might be more willing to join if they hadn't already by then. Even if not, Gracie would be the leader and she could mark them all as untouchable. So in a horrible way, Gracie was just waiting for her grandmother to die. It would solve a lot of problems.

Tessa just hadn't come to that same conclusion yet.

"What?" Gracie asked, remembering Ismelda had addressed her.

"You have first period free, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"We're talking. Courtyard."

"Okay?"

Ismelda reached over Merula for a bagel before leaving the Great Hall.

"What's that about?" Rowan asked, looking at the doors Ismelda had walked through, fork halfway to her mouth.

Gracie shrugged. "No clue," she lied. Shit, had Ismelda noticed Gracie in her head after all?

Tessa nudged Gracie with her leg. Gracie nudged back. It would be fine. If it came down to it, she knew her way around a memory charm.

Don't be stupid, Tessa warned.

Relax.

I can skip out on Divination if you want.

It'll be fine, dumbass. Don't risk your grade over nothing.

"Want me to come with you?" Rowan offered. Gracie focused back on her best friend.

"Nah, I'm sure she's not gonna kill me."

Rowan didn't like that answer, if the glare she gave Gracie meant anything.

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

Ismelda stood with her arms crossed in front of the fountain as Gracie approached. It was rather chilly out; the thin school sweater wasn't cutting it. Before Gracie could greet her, Ismelda made her claim.

"You know something we all don't."

It was a split second decision, fueled by the tingle in the back of Gracie's head, that made her agree.

"Yeah."

Taken aback slightly, Ismelda paused, having clearly been ready to argue.

"Okay, so what are you hiding?"

"I can't tell you."

"Chiva - "

"I'm under a magical oath," Gracie admitted. "I can't tell anyone."

Ismelda frowned. Her arms fell to her sides as she took in that she was being told the truth.

"I take it your sister is, too?"

"Yeah," Gracie agreed. "It's a family thing."

That threw Ismelda off even further. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Do you want to know what we know?"

Ismelda narrowed her eyes. "That felt like a threat."

Little do you know.

This could be a bad idea. Ismelda could take the news very badly and get killed. But Gracie was almost certain she wouldn't, and someone like Ismelda could be a really good ally. She had already proven herself to be rather observant, and she was the type of person who wasn't deterred by violence. And the power aspect would certainly tempt her.

Ismelda hadn't been a priority, but it was a start. Besides, if that tingle Gracie felt was to be believed...

Gracie sat, gesturing for Ismelda to join her, which she did with some hesitation.

"If you find out you'll have to take the same oath."

"I figured as much."

"Believe me when I say this is dangerous. Knowing will keep you safe, but only if you go about it correctly. If you refuse the oath, bad things could happen. And that's before you find out."

Ismelda yanked the end of her scarf out of the fountain with a muttered curse, charming it dry before responding.

"Your family sounds more fucked up than you normally let on, Chiva."

There was no arguing with that. Gracie let Ismelda sit for a moment, turning the information over in her head.

"When?"

I thought so.

"Next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend right?"

"Second weekend of every month, isn't it?"

"Hope you don't have any plans."

Ismelda stood, and Gracie copied.

"Is this a trap?"

"No."

"You'll tell me?"

"After you take the oath."

She stepped back a bit.

"Then tell me where to be."

Gracie grinned. Lorraine would be pleased.

"Meet me behind Madam Puttifoot's at one. My family - " the oath prevented her from saying grandmother " - will take it from there."

She turned to where the persistent tingle in her brain was coming from.

"You can come too, Rowan." Two in one.

[howtowhumpyourhiccup]

Winter Whumperland Day 10: Ruin

Summary: Written for Winter Whumperland Day 10. Set in a Modern AU, follows up on Day 9 'Planned'. Darkness was all Hiccup knew during those first three months. Darkness and daily defeat. Ruin was his way back into the light.

Warning: Rape/non-con

Rating: Mature

Characters: Hiccup, Viggo

Pairing: Vigcup, past-Hiccstrid

Words: 4 356

Fandom: How to Train Your Dragon

Prompt: “Poisoned”, “Food deprivation”

Whumpee: Hiccup

Author’s Notes: After posting Day 'Planned', I decided to hold off on posting Days 10 and 11 until I finished Day 12, which still had such a long way to go. It still does, but I have since split Day 12 into two parts and part 1 is finished. So it felt right to post Day 10.

I think that this thing is the darkest fic I've written to date, the final chapter in Hiccup's story left unexplored. There is still plenty left, but those won't be from his perspective. ;D

Constructive criticism is appreciated.

Enjoy!

Ao3

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

"Are we not as lively today as we usually are, Hiccup?" One afternoon in late August, this is the question Viggo asks. His gaze is indifferent, if slightly pleased, as it lingers on the young man sitting opposite to him at a table.

Hiccup looks a little lost as he sits there with him, a barely played chessboard between the two. He's hunched, appearing small, and tired. He's lost weight, but he's not as thin as he was a week ago, when he first left the downstairs area of the Grimborn home, the basement.

When a question is asked of him, he looks back at Viggo and realizes it's been a few minutes since he's made his move on the board. And yet, the older man isn't wondering why Hiccup is taking so long, knowing well enough what the cause for his downtrodden mood is.

He's feeling a little down, a little fatigued. It's not too crazy after what he's been through, after what he's survived and gotten out of. if anything, Viggo is pleased to see him this way. He's never liked Hiccup's 'loudness' from before, though others would argue that Hiccup isn't loud at all. Not in the way Viggo thinks.

"Um, I'm sorry, I'm..." Hiccup apologizes, but he's unsure what he wants to say. He hasn't just been spacing out during their game, he's been doing so throughout the day and during previous days, too.

Does it have something to do with the things done to him? He's certainly still recovering from it and not just mentally, his body is trying to catch up, too. Though his ribs and knee have healed and Viggo is putting enough food in him, he's still worryingly thing and that doesn't help his mental health. It all contributes to the tiredness that he feels.

"It's okay, my Dear, I know that you're having a hard time." Viggo understands, but he's only pretending to be nice, pretending to be concerned.

Hiccup looks down at himself, picking at the loose skin on his fingers. He's hurting, he feels like crying, he feels such shame and he can't see a single part of himself without remembering.

Without a doubt, Viggo can see the emotion growing in his eyes, can see a non-physical weight physically weighing him down. His response to that? Taking his glass of wine to sip from it. In his eyes, this is progress.

But as painful as those venomous memories are, they make Hiccup think of an important question.

"Can I- can I ask you a question?" Hiccup asks cautiously. There is something he needs to know, though he is afraid of the answer. He is very afraid.

"Make your move first, Hiccup, I don't appreciate to be kept waiting. After that, you can ask." Viggo responds, gesturing to the board, and so Hiccup turns his attention quietly back down to their game.

It's only because of Viggo that he knows how to play chess. He might've been a little curious at some point, he knows Fishlegs certainly has been, but it wasn't until Viggo came into his life that he learned how to play.

Maybe he could be good with a little bit more practice, Viggo is quite an experienced players, but his fatigue doesn't allow him to think of any good moves. When Hiccup makes his next one, it's the first one he can find. It might not be the best move, but he's not in the right mindset to even try to go for a win either. He's afraid of what'll happen if he does win.

Besides, he doesn't have the energy for it, he just wants to ask his question and have his answer.

Viggo hum disapprovingly and Hiccup holds his breath for one tense moment.

"Go on, ask your question." But fair is fair, so Viggo awaits his question.

"Do I... Um.. Do I have to ever, you know?" Hiccup can feel his heartbeat growing louder, can feel it pounding against his sternum. He acts subdued, but on the inside, he's full of turmoil and fright.

"Do I ever have to go back? Down-downstairs?" But Viggo is a patient man when Hiccup doesn't make him angry and he manages to ask. Hiccup fears the answer he may receive.

Viggo crosses his arms and hums as if in thought. It is nothing but an act as he already has his answer. He likes to keep Hiccup on his toes, likes to make him worry and stress. It's good, it's how Hiccup knows to behave.

"Well, no, not as long as you're a good boy. I won't have a reason to send you back if you listen and are good, do I?" That answer is barely comforting and Viggo's almost endearing smile doesn't help.

So long as Hiccup doesn't step out of line, he has nothing to worry about. So long as he listens, is a good boy, does everything that's asked and expected of him, he'll be okay. But then, what exactly is 'stepping out of line' to Viggo? Is it when he falls back into his old behavior? When he tries to escape? Or is it something as small as speaking out of turn?

Hiccup could ask, but maybe asking is considered stepping out of line and he doesn't want to risk that.

Thinking back to that place hurts so much and it makes him sick to his stomach. It's awful, so very awful. And the only reason he's sitting in the dining room with the afternoon sunlight filtering in through the window now is because he's given in to him.

He hopes he never has to go through something like that ever again.

"Oh my Dear," Viggo offers a hand and his support as he notices the tears growing in Hiccup's eyes. "My wonderful Dear."

He knows that he's hurting, that was the entire point of keeping Hiccup down there for the first three months of his time here. How can Viggo trust him to be a good boy upstairs if he hasn't learned to obey first? And learning to obey always hurts, learning to be his perfect partner hurts. His tears are a sign that it's working. This is a good thing!

Hesitantly, Hiccup accepts it and places his hand in Viggo's, the man squeezing his in return. Unless it's erotic in nature, Hiccup doesn't get affectionate gestures like this, so it's nice to just have his hand held for once.

Viggo's hand is warm, too. As much as he fears and hates the man, it's just nice to be held.

He knows Astrid liked to walk hand in hand with him, knows his friends liked hugs, he misses those simple things.

Hiccup's lower lip trembles, a lump in his throat, and the tears are impossible to hold back. The affection and thinking of his friends and girlfriends don't help. A thumb rubs the back of his hand comfortingly.

"It'll be okay, Hiccup. Just be a good boy and you don't have to go back. All you need to do is to remember that and listen." Viggo tells him, as if that is a reassuring thing to hear.

As long as he listens, he doesn't have to fear the basement. As long as he's a good boy, he doesn't have to worry.

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

Ryker running Hiccup over with his car injured him gravely, but broken ribs, a dislocated knee, and a hurt hip only kept Hiccup from fighting back for so much. If Viggo has ever hoped that they would, he was wrong.

Once Hiccup got his bearings, once he comprehended the position that he's in, he has only one goal in mind and that is to escape.

The cuffs that were there when he first woke up were only used to keep him from flying into a panic and injuring himself further. The near panic attack Hiccup had was already enough to endanger him.

The next time and the next and every time he wakes up afterward, they aren't there. If he were healthy, maybe they would be used to tie him down, but he isn't and Viggo must believe his ribs enough to hold him down.

He was wrong, of course.

Hiccup is free to leave the bed. And though he can't breathe properly without the painkillers provided by his abductors, Hiccup has enough experience walking around with his bad leg that the dislocation of a joint meant little to him. He can jump and land wrong and it will pop out, this is nothing new to him.

So carefully and slowly, making use of the hours he's alone, he inspects every nook and cranny of the room they keep him in. When Viggo is at work, Ryker doesn't care enough to visit, so that leaves him with plenty of opportunities to explore.

The bathroom, while objectively nice, only has the bare essentials. A toothbrush, toothpaste, shampoo, body wash, a hairbrush, that sort of thing. None of them are the brands he uses, rather they are the ones his abductor personally prefers.

In his little living space, there is only the bed and that's that. The mattress is decent, the frame sturdy, and the covers and pillowcase soft. Though an asshole, Viggo has a standard he does not lower unless it comes to his murder cabin, which Hiccup won't know about for months.

Besides the bed, there is no nightstand, no shelves, and nothing to entertain him with. Either Viggo hasn't thought of it, didn't care, or purposely didn't want Hiccup to keep himself busy.

There is only the chessboard, the one thing he would sometimes bring down to the basement with him. It takes only a week for Hiccup to hate it with a passion.

But though they don't keep him confined to the bed, his injuries do keep him from doing much to escape. Exploring is one thing, but attempting to fashion some sort of weapon or lockpick or something to undo the hinges of the door is beyond him. What little he already does leaves him breathless.

Besides, it is in his best interest to reserve his strength.

Because when the hours pass and Viggo eventually comes home, he needs it.

In the beginning, they started out as touches. Hiccup could tell that this was purely because of his injuries. If he could breathe right, if his hip and knee could be used at all, his first days in the basement would've already been the closest thing to hell he's known in his short life thus far.

They were small things. Viggo would help him sit up, would give him his painkillers, seemingly normal stuff, but the hand would linger. It would be on his upper arm, his back, his side, eventually on his thigh. And even there, there's a journey closer and closer to his center.

They are discomforting and Hiccup moves out of his reach every time, letting out a discomforting chuckle each time. He just doesn't know how to deal with such intrusive attention.

And then, one day, Viggo dares a kiss and Hiccup punches him for it. His lips aren't wanted on his and Hiccup makes sure he felt it.

He has only been kissed without his consent once before and that was by Dagur. He'd been in complete shock back then, utterly frozen and defenseless. He'd promised himself since that kiss that he would never let anyone kiss him like that again. But Viggo has and so Hiccup acts accordingly.

But then he regrets it shortly afterward, of course. The sudden upwelling of violence makes his wounded ribs scream. He holds it, collapsing to his knees while Viggo stands over him and holds his lower jaw, flexing it angrily.

"I suppose it was foolish of me to think you wouldn't fight back, though you've certainly surprised me with the violence you appear to be capable of." There is venom in his tone and eyes, his anger barely restrained. His pride has been hurt.

Hiccup groaning and struggling to draw in any oxygen on the floor does nothing to him.

"But don't worry, it's been duly noted and will be dealt with appropriately." With those final words, Viggo takes his leave. Turning and walking away, locking the door behind him as he goes.

But as time passes, there is no retaliation, no punishment. Though Viggo has been angered, there seems to be no reaction of any kind. Hiccup thinks it strange, but he's never been kidnapped by an obsessed man before.

Dagur certainly tried once with his convincing a 15-year-old boy to run away with him, but he's nothing like Viggo. So Hiccup still doesn't know what to expect. If he had, that meant he would've seen the red flags, and that meant he might not even be in this situation.

And then, Hiccup is plunged straight into hell.

Because the next day, his breakfast is brought, as per usual. Though always cautious, Hiccup takes it and eats it because he wants to heal, wants to regain his strength, and that's when the trouble begins. He doesn't know what could've been used, but that innocent bowl of plain cereal was poisoned.

He remembers Viggo bringing it to him personally, his fond smile turning into a malicious smirk when Hiccup reaches the end of his meal. He takes the bowl back and then leaves, wishing him a "pleasant time" in the basement.

And now here he is, clutched to the toilet like his life depends on it.

Ever tried vomiting with two broken ribs? This is Hiccup's first time and he can attest to how excruciating it is.

Every lurch isn't just accompanied with the usual burning throat and foul taste, but also with the agony of his injured side forcible contracting together to get the contents of his stomach out of him.

His stomach, plagued by horrible cramps, wants to be relieved and at the same time, his lungs would love some air. They battle to have their needs met and that just makes the entire experience about a hundred times worse than it already is. A hundred times more traumatizing, too.

Sitting on his bad knee and hip helps little. With the urge to throw up, there is the urge to do anything but kneel in front of the toilet on the hard, tiled floor. About every part of this is pure, unadulterated torture.

To make things even worse, there is the constant fear of a broken rib moving and collapsing his lung. Ryker certainly wouldn't care enough to take him to a hospital in time and Viggo might rather want to clean his hands free of him than risk being caught as a kidnapper. They wouldn't come to his aid, they will let him suffocate to death instead.

Every time the urge to retch comes, he tries to suppress it. For the sake of his ribs, to have control over his own body again, sobbing, coughing his airways free. Every time he tries, it gets so much worse, but that makes him want to try harder, and so the cycle continues.

Time passes, the cycle is endless, the pain is torment and all Hiccup can do is beg.

"Please, don't make me throw up any more." He whimpers, everything hurting, throat burning, voice hoarse.

All day this cycle goes on and on. Every half an hour the urge strikes, until it continues long after there is nothing left in his system to give up, until all he does is dry heave in desperation, until the wee hours of the night.

Sweating, trembling, beyond exhausted,  and grossly sobbing and hiccuping, Hiccup still clutches to the toilet bowl hours after his tainted breakfast.

He wants it to end, he wants to sleep, but his stomach is still upset and he doesn't want to leave the safety of the bathroom.

It's been at least an hour since the last time he threw up and that means he's carefully allowing himself to hope that this is it, that this is the end of his suffering for the day. If he could, he would fall asleep right here on the cold floor.

His right side is on fire and his abdominal muscles are sore after the workout they've gotten. He can barely swallow, throated burned from all the stomach acids.

Conveniently, after not showing his face the entire day, Viggo decides now is the time to make his entrance. Hiccup could've used a little support during the day instead of being forced to go through those long hours of torture completely alone. He has pleaded for his mom and dad at some point.

Watching him shiver with a look of sadistic satisfaction, their gazes meeting, Viggo can see the pain and the tiredness in them. Hiccup's arm is on the seat, his head resting on the limb while he sits there limply.

"Learned your lesson?" Viggo asks with an air of arrogance to him. It's as if he expects him to fall to his feet and beg for forgiveness right then and there.

"Water? Please?" He asks softly, tone barely above a whisper.

"Hm-hm, have you learned your lesson?" Viggo repeats. If Hiccup wants to have that glass of water, he needs to earn it first.

"Please, Viggo. Please," Viggo, believing this to be an admittance of defeat, takes his suit jacket to lay over Hiccup's shoulder, he must be cold after all of that.

"Let us get you washed up and hydrated." He tells him, playing nice now that Hiccup's down and beaten. The dirty towel, used to wipe his mouth during the day, can be taken care of later.

But what Viggo doesn't realize is that Hiccup isn't a fast learner when it comes to things like this.

He doesn't throw up again, but it takes him a week to get better, which is nearly a week of lying in bed and recovering from whatever's been fed to him. Just sleeping and drinking and eating the few light meals his stomach can handle at that time.

But once he's there, when Viggo deems him healthy enough to try and force his tongue down his throat again, Hiccup still doesn't stand for it and shows his dismay by fighting back in any way he can.

So he's sick for a second week after his disobedience. Once he's recovered from that, a third week follows. Viggo quickly realizes he has to switch to a new tactic.

Because eventually those injuries heal and that means he can be a little meaner to Hiccup.

There is something Viggo wants from him and he's adamant about getting it.

Besides, with those ribs better now all that food, when not poisoned, is only good for one thing and that is all that extra energy that Viggo deems unessential.

So he cuts Hiccup off. When Hiccup rejects Viggo's hugely inappropriate advances once again, he's denied food for the rest of the day. The first time, he only misses dinner, so that means he's quite hungry by the time breakfast arrives.

But Hiccup automatically denies that meal, too, having learned from the three times he's been made terribly ill through poisoned food to be wary of breakfast.

Lunch comes and Hiccup accepts that meal, but it comes at the price of more of the older man's forceful affection, which he'd strongly rejected once again. At dinner he stays away, breakfast Hiccup misses on purpose, lunch is spoiled by Viggo trying to kiss him and pin him to the bed. It becomes a cycle, with lunch becoming the sole source of his food.

The three weeks of illness has severely weakened him, but by the day he grows even weaker, only given enough to not get him in trouble. That makes it so much harder for him to fight back and Viggo doesn't care if he loses a couple of pounds in the process. And with no injuries getting in the way, Viggo can afford to be a little rough.

If anything, it's fun to see how long Hiccup can keep this up. Everybody has a breaking point and his doesn't seem so easily reached.

"No, please, don't! Stop! Viggo, you're such a piece of shit, stop!" He would shout, he would push, he would kick, but his attempts weaken as his body does.

So naturally, the night comes when Hiccup can no longer fight back and he's run out of energy to do much of anything. By the time he's just shy of being nothing by skin and bones, he's tried everything he can think of to keep Viggo from stealing from him. The younger Grimborn even sports a deeply blue bitemark at some point, to which Ryker's only amused response is; "So he's kinky."

But while his attempts work to deter him for another night, it's not enough in the long run and the lack of strength has put a full stop to his escape plan, too.

Reserves empty, all out of tricks, too run-down to even sass, black and bruised all over, Hiccup eventually can't stop Viggo from taking what he's been after since the first day they met.

He forced himself onto him, raped him, and it's a first time he could've done without.

"Now was that really so hard?" Viggo asks him afterward in a mocking tone as he dresses, leaving Hiccup to curl up and hug himself. There is no comfort afterward and it's on purpose. Viggo doesn't even stay, making Hiccup wallow in the shame all alone.

That night he cries for his parents, pleading with them to come get him. He hasn't cried for them since a dragon attacked him and he had to be flown to the nearest hospital. But being pinned down and raped will certainly do the trick.

During his stay, Hiccup will have a hard time admitting it even to himself that it happened. The mere thought, while the memories are always there, is always cut short.

The next morning is his first breakfast in much too long and Hiccup cannot reject it, despite his fear. It's like a reward for losing.

No matter how awful accepting it makes him feel, he can't refuse. Viggo sits down on the bed next to him as he eats, much too close, his hand on his thigh, and it makes Hiccup sicker to his stomach than being poisoned made him feel. But he couldn't reject the food, couldn't ask Viggo to leave, because his body despairs for that food.

And then afterward, there is a new cycle, a new game. It's one of choice, if you will. Either Hiccup gives in or he starves. Wanting to live and make it out above else, he chooses the former.

That is how his three months in the darkness of the basement went.

In a way, anything after that is child's play compared to what he suffered downstairs. Perhaps, the time spend in the Grimborn home afterward, is time he spends gathering up the pieces of his shattered spirit to put back together again one by one until the holiday trip that leads to his freedom.

It's a shoddy job in the end, but he survives.

Viggo comes to get him on the anniversary of the third month of his abduction with more presentable clothes for him to wear. Something other than the hoodie, shirt, and jeans he'd been taken in, which were dirty and smelly by now.

There's a broken and dull look to Hiccup when Viggo tells him to wash up and dress in them. He quite likes the sight of it. He's fond, even.

The clothes don't fit, appearing to be too large on him. But is that really surprising when the sizes are based on a time before all that weight loss?

When dressed, Hiccup stands before Viggo, staring down at the first decent clothes he's had in much too long, the first clean clothes. They're not his, they're not even the kind of clothes he would wear during formal events. They're so ill-fitting they look almost ridiculous on him, too. That is, he would look ridiculous if the sight of him didn't spark the more natural reaction of; "Oh my God, get this man a doctor."

Viggo is fruitlessly straightening out his clothes that don't fit, but he doesn't seem to mind. Once they're about as neat as he can get them, he cups a hollowed-out cheek and brings Hiccup's face up to have their eyes meet. The entire time, Hiccup has his gaze downcast.

"I want you to know how proud I am of you, my Dear. You've learned your place." Viggo tells him, staring into eyes that are rather empty with a satisfied glint in his own.

When he draws his hand back, Hiccup's gaze is soon downcast again.

Stepping away from him, Viggo motions towards the door, the same one that's been locked for three full months, even whenever Grimborn was down here.

"This is a special day." Hiccup is told.

"You've earned this." He's told.

And now, Viggo wants him to take the stairs up.

The door is opened to him and Hiccup lifts his eyes up. He can see the stairs, can see more of it as it opens wider. There is the soft throbbing of longing in his heart, of excitement.

Is this really it? Is he finally going up there and leaving the basement?

The stairs revealed, Viggo puts a hand on his lower back to gently push him towards it. The steps are wooden, they're filthy, but they're the best stairs he's ever seen.

But even better is that the door on the other side at the top isn't just unlocked, it's open and Hiccup can see light coming in. Natural light! His eyes aren't used to that much anymore and it is blinding, but he refuses to look away and squints.

But it's open, he really is leaving.

The tears he wants to cry then are of joy. There's a spark inside of him that Viggo will come to regret.

He's survived and, in the end, he fights back.

He's not broken.

[straight-into-the-animus]

Share the Pain of Our Defeat (Malik and Kadar)

@cimbaerly​ Thank you so much for the kind words! I’m sorry it took so long; I’ve never written anything for AC1 nor do I claim to know much for it, but I knew I had to give it a try for you!

I hope you enjoy!! Warnings for angst and mentions of canonical character death/beginnings of AC1 spoilers

read on ao3

The castle of Masyaf was, in all things, the heart of any Assassin. It was where many of them were born, kicking and screaming like the fighters they would almost all grow up to be.

It was where many were born and where many might retire, should they be lucky to have such an honor. Malik knew from a young age that it was a rare luxury as soon as he was old enough to comprehend the world. Not many would end up making it to such an age; not when you were meant to give up everything for the Creed, including your very life, should it come to that.

That was how things were, and it was all for the eventual betterment of mankind. Mortality was finite under the best circumstances. 

Kadar grasped this and the importance of this sacrifice, yet dealt with it in some different way. He first began to question when he was entering the beginnings of his teen years, in the most unusual ways.

“What if the Creed ends?”

“What?” Malik almost stopped in his tracks, grip on the training sword faltering for just a second. Kadar kept his defensive stance, ready should his brother attack, but his eyes almost seemed to be focused on something else which eluded him.

“If the Templars were to attack Masyaf, and they were to kill all of us… What would happen to the Creed? Would people just forget it?”

“Well… No. No, there would still be people to carry on the Creed.”

“But they’d all be dead.”

“The Creed is an idea. Ideas don’t die.”

“People do. And you just said-” He put his sword down and edged out of his defense as he started to get into the discussion, and Malik quickly came in to take advantage. With a few swift movements, Kadar’s sword was thrown away from his reach, and he was pinned on his back, wide-eyed at the sudden shift in behavior.

“And people will die if they keep talking and getting distracted during training.” Malik arched an eyebrow, and Kadar mumbled out something in understanding before Malik got off of him, and he rolled to stand.

“I was just asking questions, big brother.”

“And for every one second you spend asking questions, you lose one second off of your life.”

“You’re no fun.” Kadar huffed but agreed and went silent as they continued to train.

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

“Does it hurt?” Kadar sat next to Malik on the stone wall, gingerly as if he would any further hurt his brother. Malik looked over at his younger brother from where he was focusing on his hand in his lap and attempted to give a brave smile. 

“It is not so bad. The pain goes away after a while. And the fact that they burn it stops any impurities from entering the wound. See?” Malik pulled his hand out of his lap and showed Kadar where they had taken his left finger off. There had been a rush of pride when the Masters had told him he was ready for the honor of his initiation, to be made into a true man of the Brotherhood. Both him and Altair were now, and that burned something fierce in him that they were on the same level. Not in capability, but in rank. That would need to change soon.

“Why do you do it? Is it because of the Creed?”

“What does the Creed…?”

“It seems unnecessary. To have to cut off a finger.”

“It’s for the Hidden Blade. It makes things easier, so we don’t have to risk our fingers every time we use it. And it’s a sacrifice. For the Brotherhood.”

“There you go on again.”

“Excuse me?” Malik sharpened his tone; not that it was hard with pain still shooting from his hand and throbbing from the stump of his finger to the rest of his body. Kadar still looked unfazed, meeting Malik’s gaze with his own challenging one.

“You cut off your finger without any question? Caused yourself pain because someone told you?”

“Those are our Masters-”

“And have you not thought that you’ve made yourself a target? Obviously, Templars will know what to look for if they see a man in white robes.”

“Kadar, please silence yourself-”

“I don’t want to.”

Their voices didn’t raise at all, a feat remarkable for the heat of the conversation, but there was anger there that Malik was unsure of, something he couldn’t control. This was meant to be a proud day, something he thought his brother would care to witness and be excited to undergo someday of his own accord, and it just… wasn’t there. Or it was hidden under this new bitterness. The younger man went quiet despite how he had protested against his silence, looking down at the ground below the mountains, and Malik took the opportunity.

“This is how things are done. This is how the Brotherhood will survive.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because- Because I do. Because I must. For all our sakes. Look at me.” He waited until his younger brother’s head was raised, and their eyes met. “It is seen as harsh, yes. But it is our world. It is a noble effort. And we are the only ones able to do it for the betterment of men. Though we might not be remembered, not by them, we will be remembered by our own. There is nothing to fear.”

“I don’t fear anything-”

“You do.” And Malik hadn’t been sure of it, not entirely, but he knew in the instant that it was the truth; when he brought it up, Kadar’s eyes had darted away to the left in avoidance, though his voice remained steady. “Kadar. It’s fine to be afraid. But not forever. You’re to be a man of the Brotherhood, and then we all need to look out for each other. You look out for me. And I’ll look out for you.”

Kadar was silent as he studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “You swear that?”

“I do. I swear it on everything.” Malik intoned, face serious as he looked into his brother’s eyes, which were so similar to his. Eventually, Kadar nodded, releasing a breath.

“Then I’ll swear as well to look out for you. And I’ll hold you to it.”

“Fair,” Malik responded, body relaxing slightly as Kadar’s body turned away, and he leaned back on his arms to look out on the landscape stretched out in front of them. The sun was not yet begun to set on them, and in his eyes, Malik saw some quiet flame of passion not yet stomped out despite what was said. He was young yet, and a pain quickly made itself known in Malik’s chest -- one more intense than the one in his hand -- that this wouldn’t be the case forever. Which he expected, it was their lot in life, and Malik was proud of that.

But… were they any different, he couldn’t help but wonder if that fire in Kadar’s eyes would be suited for something else. Where that passion and youth would be directed if not for their Brotherhood.

The sun was long set when they left the wall.

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

Malik still thought about those days, sometimes, when things were too quiet, and there were no maps to make, no novices to direct. When he had been younger, there had been a part of him that longed to go and fight for their cause, to leave the safe haven of Masyaf. He had been a young man, then, full of ambition. Jerusalem seemed as far away as you could get for the moment.

There was no pain in his left hand, now. Though that had been so long dulled now, the years making it so, he had to adjust to no hand at all; most of no arm.

And now things were too quiet.

He still saw Kadar, heard him despite how impossible things seemed. In the face of every novice, either much too serious or much too brash, ready to made their presence known and make someone proud, make Malik proud. Sometimes he had to stand still and center himself to keep the bile from rising in his mouth long after those boys left because most of the time they truly were no more than boys.

Except for one. The minute he would walk in, he felt inside as though he was a cat, spitting and hissing and righteous indignation because how dare he stride in when Malik was trying to pull himself together after he had ruined and broken the promise he had tried so hard to keep?

The circles under his eyes seemed to darken every time he caught his reflection, but no one dared to make any sort of mention about it. The food tasted bitter, always, but he would attempt to eat it anyway. 

Things would be better someday, he knew somewhere deep in his bones. He had more people to look after, in his own way, and there was a comfort to be had there. For as much as those novices scared him, he could guide them, teach them. Fix his mistakes.

But for now, just for now… When the sun was starting to set over the high buildings, he would think of indignation and fear and an eager young man who tried to embrace a Creed that Malik now knew he had no place in, never did.

He hoped that Kadar could forgive him, that he could forgive himself. And he would. He would.

But not now.

This was a weird, experimental mess and I’m sorry y’all had to sit thru it, but I somewhat enjoyed it?

So I hope you enjoyed it in return! If you do I have a Masterpost here and more ideas for writings and prompts here, so feel free to request!  If you’d like to support me, I have a ko-fi here! Safety and peace!