#spent most of my life wondering why I thought I had a snout and ears on top of my head

[hellaversity]

Vengeance is Futile (Chapter 1)

Verosika took a trip to Wrath, still venting over her past relationship with Blitzø while sitting alone on some rodeo bleachers, chugging down a whole bottle of beelzejuice. This might've been her fifth bottle in a row, as she had been sitting in this particular spot for quite a while now, moping about Blitzø. "Why him? Out of all the demons in Hell, I had to fall for that guy? Even to the point of never moving on from him for years, being obsessed with publicly humiliating him and throwing shitty ex-boyfriend parties about him every single year?"

Verosika was only just starting to realize that maybe she was taking her revenge over their breakup way too far. After all, she's doing much better than he is now, being super famous in two different dimensions, having much more money than he ended up taking from her and getting the attention of many fans who would jump at the chance to date her or bone her. Yet Blitzø was able to move on much better than she ever was, despite still being a peseant and pretty much a nobody outside of his business as far as Hell's society is concerned.

"What the fuck was I thinking assaulting that other imp guy who politely asked for his boss to have his parking space back? He had nothing to do with me and Blitzø's rocky at best relationship. Yet I sexually violated him just to piss off Blitzø. I went too far." She looked down in shame realizing what she did to that innocent guy who did nothing wrong other than willingly working for her shitty ex. What was his name again? Mickey? Monty? Something like that. "What's a pretty gal like you doing here being all down in the dumps like that?"

A deep, raspy, masculine voice that Verosika didn't recognize just spoke to her. She looked up and titled her head to the left side to notice a mysterious, ruggedly handsome cowboy-looking guy. He had typical male imp horns, but otherwise didn't look like any other imp she'd seen in her life. Most imps usually had red skin, plain yellow eyes and a human shaped head and face. This guy had tannish beige skin, ring patterned eyes and a long pointy snout, kinda like a snake.

"I'm sorry, what?" She asked him. "I said, what's a pretty gal like you doing here being all down in the dumps like that?" The pink succubus smiled awkwardly and felt her heart almost melting from this handsome man she didn't even know calling her pretty. Why? Others have called her sexy before. This shouldn't be anything new for her. "Well, you see there's guy i'm still hung up on." Verosika replied. The mysterious and handsome stranger sat down next to her, wanting to listen to her story. "Go on. I'm all ears. Anyways, the name's Striker."

Verosika cleared her throat before explaining. "Blitzø was this guy I dated six years ago. He was funny, charming, could hold his own his own in a fight and didn't care what others thought of him. Everything I wanted in a guy. I thought he was the one until.... until he broke my trust. He stole my money and credit cards, spent them on horse riding lessons and just dumped me. I should've realized he wasn't worth all the trouble, but for some reason, I became obsessed with getting revenge on him for years. Even throwing parties based around hating his guts. At one point I even sexually harassed one of his employees just to get back at him."

Striker thought that name of this ex boyfriend sounded familar. "Did you say his name was Blitzø?" Verosika nodded. "I met a guy named Blitzø. Him and his pansy little imp friends considered hiring me into their assasin business. We both participated in some competion called the Harvest Moon Festival, we tied. I asked him to join me but he refused because I tried to kill his ditzy bluebood boyfriend, now he fucking hates me."

Verosika was shocked to hear that Striker had met a guy with the same name as her ex and wondered if they were the same guy. "Did he have a half red half white face with big horns slightly curved at the end?" "Yeah, that's the one. Damn race traitor he is," Striker replied. They looked at each other realizing that they were, in fact, talking about the same Blitzø.

"Ya know, you look kinda familiar. Aren't you that famous succubus popstar who Wally Wackford is always harping about?" Striker asked. "Yup, that's me. Verosika Mayday's the name," said the pink succubus. Striker shook her hand and stood back up. "Anyway, it's getting late. See ya around, Miss Mayday." He was about to walk away until Verosika said "Wait! I was hoping you'd show me around. I don't come to Wrath very often and I don't remember a lot of the stuff that happens around here. Do you at least know where I can get a hotel room, or something?"

Striker looked backed at her. "Well, i'm not a tour guide. But I guess could show you around a bit. Don't expect it to be an everyday thing, though. Is that clear?" Verosika nodded and followed Striker around to see the wonders of Wrath.

Later that day.....

The cowboy took the popstar to his favorite bar and ordered his favorite alcoholic beverage, one for him and one for Verosika. Given how often she drank, Verosika chugged up the whole bottle in one go. Striker was shocked to see how fast she drank it. "Damn, pretty lady, slow down. You could start coughing up a storm if you keep drinking that fast," he warned her. Verosika just brushed off his warning. "Don't worry about me, cowboy. I've been doing this for over a decade. I'll be fine."

She drank two more bottles and burped. Striker was impressed that she didn't seem quite drunk yet. He admired her beauty as she drank another one, and another, and another. Soon, enough, the alcoholic succubus was tipsy. Striker was worried about her. What if she got wasted and passed out in the middle of the bar? "Miss Mayday, I believe that's enough. You can stop now. If you drink anymore you won't be able to think straight," he explained. Verosika just ignored him.

As she finally drank her last bottle, she felt a strange feeling her stomach and twitched her eye. "You know where the bathroom is?" She asked Striker. "Upstairs, first door on the right is the ladies room," the cowboy replied. Verosika went upstairs to the ladies room and threw up in the first toilet she could find. What was going on? She could usually drink way more than this and be just fine. Was her 37 year age finally catching up to her? Was it to time for her to tone her alcoholism down?

She threw up some more, washed her face with the toilet paper, flushed the toilet and finally washed her hands. But she didn't leave the bathroom right after that. She looked in the mirror to see her eyeliner and mascara slightly drying up and dripping down her eyelids. "Man, I was a fool for wanting something more with that asshole of an ex boyfriend. He probably just wanted a one night stand or an occasional fucking, yet I kept asking him to stay. I ended up being no better than him."

Verosika finally left after another minute of brooding and went back downstairs to meet up with Striker again. He was playing darts with some other imp guy who looked somewhat familar to her. She thought she recognized him as the bartender from Ozzie's who tried to offer her a drink before she shoved it away in his face. "Ahem." She cleared her throat to get Striker's attention. "Oh, what's up Miss Mayday? I got kinda bored waiting for you, so maybe I thought a little gameof darts could pass the time," Striker told her.

Verosika was slightly offended that this guy got tired of waiting for her, the most famous and attractive musician in all of Hell. On the other hand, she wouldn't mind watching a game of darts between Striker and....whoever this other guy was. He just noticed the beautiful succubus who he recognized from Ozzie's and the Halloween "Blitzø Sucks" party. He seemed to have taken quite a liking to her. But she couldn't be any less interested in him if she tried.

"Mind if I win for ya, Miss Mayday?" The other imp guy asked while wiggling his eyebrows. Verosika just recoiled im disgust at this guy trying to flirt with her. "Hold it there, Wacko. If anyone here has a higher chance of winning, it's me. I'm already beating you by 5 points," Striker bragged. "No one insults the great Wally Wackford and gets away with it!" Wally said angrily. But sure enough, Striker proved himself right by winning the game with 8 points ahead and 3 bullseyes. Wally was utterly disappointed in himself and just walked away in shame.

"Looks like that guy has been dealt with. What if I say I get you a hotel room around here?" Striker said to Verosika. She blushed at the thought of this guy actually offering her a place to stay. She was hoping he'd stay there with her for the whole night. They left and walked a long way to the nearest hotel. Wrath was a bitch of a place with nearly every store, house, bar and hotel being further away from each other than necessary. But countryland was just like that.

"You plan on coming here more often after this?" Striker asked. "Absolutely. This place isn't so bad even if i'm more used to big cities. It's certainly much quieter around here than where I come from," Verosika replied. "Even though you're rich, it's a good thing you're not of royal status. I probably wouldn't have given you the time of day," Striker said. "What do you have against royals?" Verosika wondered, nervously. Not that she cared THAT much. She was just curious.

"They always wanna push us lower-class demons around. Stomping on our feelings. Treating us like disposable garbage. Bunch of pompous ditzes, they are," Striker explained. Verosika's only response was a sweat drop. "Hehe, I see what you mean," she said in an awkward and nervous tone. "Well, if it isn't the slutty ex girlfriend of my stupid, annoying brother," said a third voice. Verosika thought that voice sounded familiar. She looked up to see Barbie Wire, the twin sister of her ex boyfriend Blitzø, who Verosika met back in rehab.

This day just got a whole lot worse.

[sardinesandhumbugs]

30 "when you smile, you knock me out, I fall apart" with Ratty and Mole?

(Also, I haven't actually watched any starkid musicals those were suggested by @residentofskinnymandria but I will be looking into them this weekend :D)

A/N: Thank you for the prompt and for your patience! I procrastinated somewhat on this because for my other OTPs, I would usually go straight for the romance with a starter like this, but by now y'all know that when it comes to Ratty & Mole, the line between romantic and platonic tends to be up to reader interpretation :)

Also a shout-out to @wolfiethewriter for unwittingly providing inspiration for this ficlet, by getting hilariously drunk a few nights back during our Midnight Sun readthrough. I only hope you fared better the next morning than Rat :D

x

Categorically, Rat knew there were worse ways to wake.

But, as Toad started on his fifth verse of 'What Shall We Do with the Drunken Sailor?' Rat found he could think of no such examples.

He muttered something unsavoury and buried himself deeper into the recesses of the caravan, far from the prying, headache-inducing light of day, and far, far away from Toad's over-exuberant singing – for what little good it would do him. For Toad had inherited his mother's operatic lungs, if quantifiably not her pitch-perfect tone, and both were on full display that morning.

(It could not be said that Toad was a bad singer. It was simply the case that enthusiasm preceded vocal form, and he cared little for meddling things such as keys or sharps and flats when the mood took him. Regardless, even if Toad's voice had been flawless, Rat wouldn't have had the patience for it. Not today. The careening key changes were just the icing on the cake.)

The song briefly rose as the caravan door opened, and Rat recoiled as much from the intrusion of light as he did from Toad's blasted singing. Then the aroma of eggs and bacon hit him, and he begrudgingly shuffled his snout out of the cool, dark safety of the bedcovers.

Mole stood before him, fried offering in paw, and looking significantly less the worse for wear after their previous night's inebriations than Rat. He grinned, and set the breakfast down on the table beside the bed. "Well," he said, "I've never seen you sleep in this late."

"This isn't sleeping in," Rat muttered. "It's suffering."

"Maybe you should have thought about that before drinking so much yesterday," Mole said, the faint admonishment in his tone outweighed by the amusement.

"I'm not a lightweight," Rat grumbled. "It's just whatever Toad puts in his damn drinks to make them green always knocks me out."

"And makes you very drunk, apparently."

Rat hesitated, unsure whether he wanted to know the answer to his next question. "How drunk?"

Mole grinned again. "Nothing too embarrassing. You mostly just gabbled and then got distressed when you couldn't pronounce a word properly."

"What word?"

"I believe it was library."

"...Library?" Rat echoed. "How–"

"You kept saying 'liblary' instead."

"Libla...?"

"Liblary, hm-mm. The second 'l' kept creeping in, however hard you tried otherwise." The humour in Mole's voice betrayed that Rat's efforts, while in vain, had been quite the show.

Rat considered this as best he could while the sensation of galloping horses gallivanted between his ears. Eventually he located what he hoped would be a safe question. "Why were we talking about libraries?"

"Oh, we weren't – just you. Goodness knows why, and we thought it best not to ask."

"DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, DON'T LET HIM STEER THAT CARGO FREIGHTER, URL-EYE IN THE MORNING!"

With a wince, Rat turned a reluctant ear to Toad's questionable shanty rendition, trying to figure out if the words were indeed what he was hearing, or whether it was simply the effects of the hangover. "What verse is Toad on now?"

Mole chuckled. "Ones of his own creation. I think he ran out of official verses he could recall a while back."

As if to compound that fact, Toad skipped the refrain entirely and overshot to the next verse, of which the origin was undoubtedly a Toad Special.

"PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, PUT HIM IN THE LIBLARY 'TIL HE'S SOBER, URL-EYE IN THE MORNING!"

Rat winced again. "I'm not living this one down, am I?"

"Oh, Toad will forget in time," Mole said, with surprisingly surety for someone who had spent only a day and a half in Toad's presence. But, then again, Toad was not the most complicated of creatures. However, Rat noted that Mole didn't make any mention of himself forgetting any time soon.

Mole nudged the plate closer to Rat. "Eat up. You'll feel better for it."

Rat had half a mind to make a comment about food being Mole's solution to everything, but then he caught another whiff of breakfast and his stomach gave an audible rumble. He pushed himself up and made a start on the meal.

"Just out of curiosity," Mole said, "why did you drink so much of Toad's cocktails if you know you always suffer the next day?"

"Honest answer?" Rat asked. "I forgot."

"You... forgot?"

"I had..." and Rat paused as Toad butchered another verse, "more pressing issues on my mind."

Both animals waited out Toad's latest crescendo, enduring the new volumes before he petered out to more acceptable levels.

"Would those issues be green and singing?" Mole asked.

"Usually."

Rat had worked his way through a rash and a half of bacon before Mole spoke again, and the distance between the words belayed an uneasy deliberation. "You didn't have to come along," Mole said. He sat on the bench that ran along the inner of the caravan, which served as table space and seating as the need arose, and the ledge was set just a smidgen too high so that his paws only brushed the floor. "You know, out on the open road. Not if you didn't want to."

"Ah, well," Rat said, "then who would keep you and Toad out of trouble?"

"I think we would have managed."

Rat squinted. "No offence, Moley, but I know you, and I know Toad–" he gestured to the window from which Toad's performance was still going strong, and then immediately regretted it as the alcohol residing in his system sent his head spinning "–and you are both many things, but 'out of trouble' is not one of them."

"We survived this morning without mishap."

There was a crash from outside, followed by a cry of, "It's alright! Everything's good! No need to check!" from Toad.

"Mostly," Mole amended.

"Definitely sounds like you have everything under control here," Rat deadpanned.

"I'm sure everything's fine."

There was another thump, this time accompanied by the unimpressed whinny of the horse.

Mole and Rat exchanged glances.

Mole closed the window. "Look, Ratty, all I'm saying is that you needn't have felt obliged to come along if you'd rather have stayed on your river." He glanced to the wicker luncheon basket that was still half-full from yesterday, and which had seemingly swayed Rat in his decision to accompany the caravan. "We could have had our picnics on the riverbank instead."

"We?" Rat echoed.

"Well, of course. Do you really think I would have gone off on the Life Adventurous without you?"

Rat didn't immediately respond. The horses in his head had calmed, but the outcome was simply that he had more space to think properly through the last couple of days. Truth be told, he hadn't quite been sure which Mole would have chosen – him or the open road – and he hadn't been interested in putting it to the test. His mind played back the eagerness with which Mole had rootled through the caravan, exploring the compact living wagon and settling in with an ease that made Rat wonder whether the caravan's claustrophobic space reminded Mole of his own beneath-ground home. It certainly was a far cry from Rat's riverbank abode, where the house had the space to sprawl along the shoreline and the freshwater breeze meant the air was never still. Not like being underground, he was sure.

"Ratty?"

He had been lost in his thoughts for too long, and now Mole leant into his line of vision. Rat had to think quickly to recall what exactly Mole had asked.

"No, of course not," he said. "Only – well, I would have hated for you to have stayed on the riverbank only on my behalf."

"Like you came along here on mine?"

“And for the picnics,” Rat added. “Don’t forget the picnics.”

“Right,” Mole said with a laugh that said he wasn’t buying Rat’s offhanded dismissal any more than Rat believed it. “How could I forget the picnics?” He patted Rat’s paw and swung off the seat. “Well, you can put all thoughts of picnics from your mind until you’ve recovered — and maybe in future we stick to drinks we’re familiar with, hm?”

“Maybe,” Rat conceded.

It was as Mole threw him one last grin and disappeared out of the caravan that Rat came to the reluctant conclusion that, whether or not his housemate was aware of it, Mole had him wrapped around his little claw. He set the emptied plate to one side and collapsed back into the bunk, thankful for the small mercy that at least Toad had stopped singing—

“Feeling better finally?”

Rat jolted back up, and had to steady himself against the table as his head swam. He located Toad at the window. “Toad! How long have you been there?”

“I don’t know; I wasn’t keeping track.” Toad leant in against the windowsill conspiringly. “If I had known all it’d take for you to join me would be the smile off an undergrounder, I’d have dug him out ages ago.”

Rat grumbled but decided he was still too hungover to bicker over it.

Besides, it was somewhat difficult to argue with when it was true.

[dingoat]

[I mulled over a few possible options for this one, heh, but after some chatter with @cinlat I realised I could mush some of my ancient Ahuska backstory with half baked future plans with vague species lore/headcanons and string it along into something roughly story-shaped. The whole thing wound up a lot more somber than I’d anticipated, but at least I can always count on Crow to soften the mood!] ---

For the better part of three weeks, she’d been dwelling. What had started out as the most unexpected news conceivable had led to a flurry of unanswerable questions; was the news welcome? Was she excited? Did she care? Did she want anything to do with it? But that had all rapidly died down into a sullen simmering of nerves, as Ahuska struggled with something she genuinely never thought she’d have to face.

She had a family. She’d been raised well, and loved, as far back as she could properly remember. Did she really want to go back further, did she need to know anything about where she’d come from? The thought of being connected to Bothawui in any way made her feel ill, but Crow had gently reminded her, over and over, that this changed nothing.

She was Mando’ad, where family is built on more than bloodline, and having surviving relatives from a life she couldn’t even recall changed nothing.

Having a twin brother changed nothing.

Except that it clearly meant something to… him. And the older one. Two brothers, with families of their own, who’d reached out to find the sister they’d thought they’d lost with their parents. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know them, but…

“Crow?” Ahuska tapped his arm with a single hesitant finger, but he’d already turned to seek her out. They were more in tune with one another than ever.

“Mmm?”

“I think I��� I want you to meet my family,” she mumbled, eyes slipping to the side.

Crow grinned his softer grin. “Ahhh, I think we’ve already been through that part of the relationship. Was a couple years ago now, at least?”

She felt her ears grow warm, but her eyes turned back to him. “With me, I mean. I want you to come with me to… meet the family I haven’t met yet. I don’t know if I even want to call them that yet, I guess, I doubt they’ll want to either once they’ve met me…”

“Oh, psshh,” Crow made to wave away her worry with a flick of his hand. “You said the whole reason they found out you existed was from holos of the business down at the Ve’lora place, right? Not like they haven’t already got some sort of clue about the life you live, and they still reached out.”

“It already feels so weird, though. They’ve known about me… all their lives. They… knew me, a-and mourned me? They missed me, and I’ve just never known… it’s like they’re strangers, who call me a sister. It’s fethin’ weird.”

“I know, I know. And if they’ve got half a brain between them they’ll realise that too. All you gotta do is meet them, say hi to them and their… uh, heh. Hey. What are baby bothans called, anyway?”

“Huh? What, I… I don’t think he told me any of their names, I don’t even know how many kids he said they each had…”

“What? No, I meant like… y’know. Do you call them… uhhh, like how little cathar are kits, and…”

Every one of Ahuska’s nerves abruptly vanished, and the series of blinks followed by a hard stare made Crow immediately realise he’d made one of those mistakes.

“Sorry, sorry, I just figured…”

“Babies,” Ahuska said, her tone completely flat. “Baby bothans are babies. Not cubs, not fawns, not kits…” her snout wrinkled a little at that.

Crow’s manner was meek, but the way he squinted at her made it clear he was still trying to work out where exactly the problem lay. “Okay but… don’t… wouldn’t there be some word you use for them…?”

“What, like ik’aad?”

“Yeah, exactly!” Crow brightened as Ahuska offered the comparison, then immediately ducked his head as her expression grew harder still.

“Like ik’aad. The Mando’a word that literally translates to ‘baby’?”

Crow’s grin wavered, sensing a trap. “Ye-es…?”

“Not likaya? Not pe’ninr?” Ahuska continued to watch Crow carefully as she offered the Mando’a for kitten and puppy.

“Well. No. Of course-”

“Of course not!” Ahuska snapped over the top of him, with an emphatic gesture of both hands to drive her point. “Likaya literally means baby cat. Not baby person. Not baby human, or bothan, or even cathar, it’s the word you use for a little cute wobbly baby animal that meows before it opens its eyes. You wouldn’t call some random Mando kid likaya if we were talking in Mando’a, would you…?”

“I… guess not…” To the unfamiliar, it would look as though Crow were simply still grinning, but Ahuska knew the way it’s quality shifted that he was in fact frowning on the inside.

Ahuska took a slow breath, pinching the bridge of her snout. “And just the same, the bothese for ‘baby cat’ and ‘baby person’ are two totally different words. One translates to kitten, in basic, and the other to baby. Just baby. There’s nothing fancy, nothing cute about it, grown-ass men and women aren’t bucks and does or stallions or vixens, and I’d be willing to bet that there’s a good chunk of cathar out there who hate the way the better part of the galaxy pretends their own native words for their kids translate to ‘baby cat’---!!”

Despite her efforts to calm herself, Ahuska’s pitch and volume had rapidly increased, her gestures had grown more emphatic, and her attitude was positively simmering. Crow didn’t even need to tune into the beat of her heart to know he’d struck a hard nerve, but he wasn’t exactly sure how to handle it.

“Okay, okay,” he said quickly, lifting his hands in an effort to make it clear he was willing to concede. The crease of his forehead knit a little deeper. “I just would’ve thought, of all people, you might… find it kind of cute, at least? Like the way Nines…”

She shot him a look that made him shut up quick smart, then immediately made a visible effort to cool herself off.

“Let me… try and explain it another way,” she said, speaking slowly, her gaze focused inward. “One time when I was little, nine or ten years or something. I was on a trip with my buire, we had to spend the night in an Imperial settlement. We were checking in to some accommodation, just on the outskirts where it was quiet, and… you know buir’ika was a chadra-fan, right? Well, they had me and her go around to the back somewhere, and wait a while in another building. There was a nerf there, a couple of tauntauns, I think a big old varactyl even... one of the tauns had a fawn so that’s where all my attention was. I thought it was excellent, like, some special treat for me, buir’ika sure acted like it was. Anyway, it was a while later that nuvhu’buir… ah, that’s what I called Jinn, yeah? She came round to where we were with all our stuff, a few extra blankets and things, and we built ourselves a bed right there in the hay and spent the night there. I knew she was mad about something, but she never said why, at least not ever to me. I remember falling asleep hearing her and buir’ika talking really quietly together, and I was wondering why she was so upset. Didn’t make any sense to me at the time, since I thought it was… pretty much the best thing ever. I was too little to get it.”

Crow listened quietly, and when Ahuska paused, he didn’t say a word. He just watched her, offering his full attention, and waited for her to go on.

“They made us sleep in the damned stables. It was years later I looked back and realised that. They probably would’ve let nuvhu’buir stay up in a proper room, but she wouldn’t have anything to do with that. Stables, me and buir’ika, just because of our damn faces. So no. No, I don’t appreciate it when people joke about me going to a vet rather than a doctor, or offer me ‘treats’ for being a ‘good girl’. It’s not cute, it’s gross. And that goes hand in hand with asking if my species have litters, or if our babies are called foals, or if we go into heat. Ugh.” She made an ugly scowl at that. “Rule of thumb? If you wouldn’t ask a Mirialan the same question, it’s probably rude as hell to ask a Bothan. Or, y’know. Literally any other sapient species.”

Flushed, Ahuska found herself glancing off to the side, feeling oddly unburdened to have let it all out, and yet also heavy for having to unload to Crow. She knew he meant nothing by it, that of all the beings in the galaxy his intentions were utterly pure. She’d never forget the way he deflected those stuffy noblewomen on Alderaan that time.

She felt his hand envelope hers. “Did you want me to talk to Nines, and get her to let up a bit on the way she-?”

“Nayc,” Ahuska found the answer came easily, even if she couldn’t quite articulate why. “Not to me, anyway. I want to say it’s different, but it’s probably not, really. I dunno. Just maybe give her a poke if she starts on any other bothans with ‘Puppy’, yeah?” “It used to bother you a lot though, didn’t it?”

Ahuska stared out at nothing for a while.

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“Still sorry.”

His chin came to rest over her head, and she closed her eyes as she let her face rest against the comforting curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry too. Not your fault the galaxy is the way it is. I’m just… a little wound up right now, I think. I’m nervous about this.” “Shhh,” he soothed gently, and she let her face fall against the hand he brought to her cheek. “You don’t need to make an excuse for yourself. I asked you something stupid. Can’t promise I won’t again in the future, but I’ll always be ready to listen to you. Mmkay?” Ahuska found herself nodding against his palm. “‘kay.”

“And I’ll be right there with you, meeting those other relatives of yours. And if they turn out to be bastards? I’ll find a totally not-xenophobic way to give them a piece of my mind.”

She made a little snort, and let her arms wrap around him. “And that’s why I love you.”

[lombredanslaeu]

magic hour | johnny suh

plot: johnny suh has been alive for centuries now. as the supreme alpha, he is gifted with a soulmate. the catch is: the death of his previous soulmate disabled him from falling in love with the new one. | word count 6948

werewolf & vampire! au (human reader), soulmate! au | angst, fluff, smut

songs: lying to you - keaton henson | see you again - tyler, the creator, kali uchics | magic - she’s only sixteen | ivy - frank ocean

this isn’t proofread so i apologize for any mistakes <3!

The rain clinged to the fur of Johnny’s wolf. Thunder and the sound of rain hitting the forest occupied his ears. He couldn’t think of anything else. A heavy weight pounded itself inside of Johnny’s chest. He didn’t know what true pain felt like until now. After a minute, he dragged his paws towards the scene he was dreading to see.

What used to be the cheerful face of his lover was nothing more than just an ice-cold facade of death. Her lips parted slightly, with no sign of life in its color. There wasn’t any trace of bold which meant that whoever did this to her knew better than leaving a mess. Johnny pushed his snout towards her face, as if to nudge her awake.

Johnny sensed his friends appear from behind the leaves and trees. The ones who are part of his pack and the vampires who backed him up in searching for her. They did nothing but bow their heads in sympathy for their friend’s loss and in mourning for a person they vowed to protect.

As realization was slowly washing over Johnny’s system, he couldn’t help but whimper. A crushing feeling as he felt his friends watch how the supreme alpha turned into a pathetic, broken animal. And a insatiable feeling of despair as he watch his soulmate dead.

For the first time in centuries, Johnny wept.

--

“Jungwoo, I swear to god.” You warned your roomate as he was threatening to test how foamy dishwashing liquid could be. You signed in desperation as the thought that you couldn’t stop him from one of his measly experiments.

There was something undeniably weird about your roomate. The first time you met Jungwoo, he looked at you with a face full of confusion. You posted a picture of you on your roommate-hunting ad, so why was he looking at you as if he had no idea his roommate was a girl? Not only that but, as a physics major, Jungwoo had a knack for conducting experiments that you never truly understood. Each time you ask, all he would throw back at you was a vague compilation of scientific terms. However, both of you soon became the best of friends. Despite your contrasting personalities and college majors, it was obvious that you treasured your friendship.

“Y/N, I’ll clean the mess up.” He answered. “Stop complaining and go to your room. This might be a splash zone.”

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes at him and decided to head to your room.

“Oh, by the way,” He spoke. You pivoted to face him. “I was wondering if you want to go skiing at the place Vernon was taking about.”

“Isn’t that place quiet far?”

“Yeah, but my friends and I have a resthouse somewhere in the middle of the way. We could stay there for a night so we wouldn’t be that tired.” He explained.

“You and your friends have a resthouse?” You inquired, boggled at the fact.

“Yeah, since our parents are far away, we decided to chip in for a house that we could all gather too.” Jungwoo replied. “So, you in or not?”

“Sure.” You answered back.

--

The sound of glass hitting the table interrupted Jungwoo’s reverie. In front of him, Taeyong poured a glass of red liquid in a wine glass. From the smell of it, Jungwoo figured that it was blood.

“I’m sure of this one, Taeyong.” Jungwoo began.

“You better be.” Taeyong replied. He lifted the glass to his lips, his tongue savoring the taste. “The last thing we need is a furious Johnny.”

Jungwoo swallowed a lump down his throat. A growing ball of anxiety was forming in his stomach. He knew better than to mislead Johnny. Johnny wasn’t really the greatest person when he’s mad. The topic of soulmates was a sensitive one for Johnny’s ears. Memories of what happened centuries ago refrained from leaving his mind. Even Jungwoo still remembers how despodent Johnny looked like at that time. He remembers it all as if it was just yesterday.

“They’re coming tomorrow.” Jungwoo said. “I don’t know what I should do. I should have thought this through.”

“You still have three more years in that university.” Taeyong replied, patting Jungwoo on the back. “You have plenty of time for this.”

--

The road towards Jungwoo’s resthouse was filled with trees left and right. The remnants of the city life began to fade a few miles back. You couldn’t comprehend still why on earth did you agree to spend a night in a house with ten men. You also didn’t know that Jungwoo had that many friends. He said that they are all childhood friends and they somehow preserved their friendship up until this day. You mentally thanked Jihyo for coming with you.

“You know, I don’t really like forests.” She spoke beside you, in the passenger seat.

“Me too.” You answered, looking a bit forward to see if the line of trees will be over soon.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” She asked, a bit worried about the apperance of the road,

“Yeah, that’s the address Jungwoo said it was.” You pointed to your car’s GPS. “Ugh, I hate him for going there before us.”

The voice in the GPS announced that you are only two minutes away from their resthouse. Soon, you spot the surprisingly beautiful house that was hidden behind the vast trees. You turned left and followed the concrete pavement that will lead you to Jungwoo’s resthouse. You saw Jungwoo wait for you in front of the house. He waved his hands to instruct you on where to park your cark. You and Jihyo exited the car, in awe of how beautiful and modern the exterior of the house is.

“Wow, this place is beautiful.” Jihyo spoke, still looking up to observe the house.

“How in the hell did you guys afford this?” You asked him.

Jungwoo laughed and said, “Some of the guys are pretty loaded. Come on in, the inside is just as beautiful as the outside.”

He helped you and Jihyo in carrying your bags. The moment you entered the house, your nose was filled with a lavender scent. The living room was clean and spotless. The interior design almost resembled a romanesque mansion. Details were adorned with gold but the whole color scheme revolved around greys and black. It was almost like a scene out of a fairy tale.

A man emerged from what you assumed was the kitchen. He wore a welcoming smile on his face as his cheekes was adorned with dimples on both sides.

“Guys, this is Jaehyun.” Jungwoo introduced the man. “Jaehyun, this is Y/N and Jihyo.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you both.” Jaehyun’s voice was like velvet. There was no denying that he is an attractive man. You felt your cheeks flush as he smiled at you. “I hope you enjoy the night here. We tried to make the house as clean as possible for you.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” Jihyo said.

“Well, it’s just common courtesy.” Jaehyun replied. “I’ll see you around.”

As Jaehyun left, Jungwoo ushered you and Jihyo to the guest room. The guest room looked magical. A princess could live there. You wondered what the other main rooms looked like if the guest room was this beautiful. Before Jungwoo left, he reminded both of you that dinner shall be ready anytime soon.

--

The aroma of delicious and enticing food made your stomach grumble. A man who introduced himself as Doyoung fetched you and Jihyo for dinner. He has a wide smile and friendly facade. The faint conversation between men was heard from the dining area. The moment you stepped in their line of vision, you were welcomed by such beautiful faces. Jungwoo’s friends were beautiful. They all had welcoming auras. All except for the tallest one.

Johnny moved his vision from his Taeyong to you. A pletora of butterflies swarmed his veins.

No, this cannot be. He thought.

Taeyong nudged the huge man. He gave Johnny a face that told Johnny to keep it together. He remained crossed browed as he forced himself to match the smiling faces of his friends. At the corner of Taeyong’s eyes, he saw Jungwoo fidget.

The rest of the dinner went on smoothly. You spent most of time between Jungwoo and a guy named Haechan.

“And no matter what you do, do not go in the last room on your floor.” Haechan warned you. You nad him decided to stroll around the garden at the back. There was a fountain in the middle. The breeze was a bit chilly.

“Why not?” You asked.

“Let’s just say someone won’t be happy.” He answered.

As you two walked around, you decided to look up at the facade of the house. As soon as you raised your vision up, you saw a curtain immediately close.  

--

Johnny rubbed his hands on his face. Desperation and exhaustion swarmed his veins. He couldn’t accept it. Leona was his mate, his most treasured jewel. And just with a blink of an eye, she was gone. Johnny knew that Leona was mortal and she was bound to face death. However, what he cannot accept was how soon she was taken from him. She didn’t even get to marry him and see the world with Johnny like he promised her. Now there was you. The moment you entered the dining room with the sweetest smile on your face. The way you laugh at something Haechan said only encouraged the raging fire inside of him. He wanted nothing more than to feel your smooth skin against his fingertips. The moment you stepped into the dining room, he knew. He cursed Jungwoo for even thinking about letting you stay in this house for a night. He wanted to be angry at him but he know that this is Jungwoo’s house as it is Johnny’s. The roar of thunder echoed in his room. He sensed Jungwoo approaching.

“How long have you known her?” Johnny asked the second Jungwoo came through his door.

“A year.” Jungwoo replied sparingly.

Silence enveloped the two werewolves. Jungwoo poured himself a glass of whiskey and sat in the couch of Johnny’s room.

“There’s a big storm coming.” He started. “We figured that we can’t travel for the next day or so.”

“So what you’re saying is that my mate is about to spend another night here?”

“I did this for you, Johnny. Why are you so hostile about this?” Jungwoo cocked his head to the side, obviously confused about the way Johnny’s reacting. “You spent all these years moping for Leona. I found your mate for you. Why do you not seem happy?”

Johnny sighed. Jungwoo will never understand him. He knew better than to argue with him. After all, he did go behind his back to make him happy. He sighed and whispered, “I don’t know.”

Jungwoo’s eye softened. It was him and Doyoung who saw Johnny break down every night after Leona’s death. They were the ones who saw how his demeanor changed. Jungwoo doesn’t know a lot of things about the supreme alpha but one thing’s for sure: he loved Leona more than anything else.

--

Haechan’s warning to you about the last door on your floor only made you curious. You were never one to snoop around especially when you are told not to. But there was something about the way he said it that made you only want to go there more.

The storm only intensified through the night. You were bummed that your ski trip would be delayed but the joyful spirits of the other guys made you feel okay. You tried your best to sleep. You envied Jihyo who was already somewhere in dreamland. You decided to step outside the guest room. Wall lamps illuminated the long hallway. The guys definitely hit the jackpot with this house. You reached the stairwell and leaned down to check if any of the guys are awake. You didn’t bring any slippers so your footsteps are unheard. The center of the stairs were lined with carpet. By the feel of it, it was definitely expensive. You started to wonder just how rich Jungwoo and his friends are.

There was a light that came from the kitchen. You went there and saw the tallest one, Johnny. He might have sensed you since he immediately turned his head around despite you being careful with your footsteps.

“Hi.” You said, offering him a warm smile.

“Hey.” He reciprocated your smile.

“Are the others asleep already?” You asked.

“I’m not sure.” He answered. You started to play with your fingers due to the growing awkward silence. “Do you want me to warm some milk for you?”

“Oh no, you don’t have to.”

“Please, I insist.”

You went along with his offer. Johnny was beautiful. He has a sweet smile and his lips were unique in shape. His body was also very well built. He towers over everyone, especially Taeil. Since you are shorter than Taeil, Johnny definitely towers over you.

“What do you study in university?” Johnny asked, he has his back towards you while he prepared your milk.

“Sociology.” You answered. “I met Jungwoo through my roommate hunt ad.”

“Living with Jungwoo must be hell for you then.” He added.

“Actually if it weren’t for his idiotic science experiments, all would be fine.” You chuckled.

You and Johnny talked through the night. You learned that he was studying multimedia arts at a university a bit far from yours. He also loved doing photography. He showed you multiple photos that he took of his friends. It was safe to say that Johnny wasn’t only beautiful on the outside.

--

You looked at the scene in front of you. Jihyo seemed to have a liking to the guy named Mark. You groaned at how they ignored you while they lowkey flirted with each other. The sun was shining outside. You hoped that the storm won’t come back tonight so you could go on with your ski trip. You decided to go outside the garden. The garden was still a bit wet from the storm last night. Out of nowhere, a hand was placed on your shoulder. You jumped in surprise but immediately calmed out after finding out that it was just Johnny.

“You shouldn’t wander around after a huge storm.” He advised.

“Why not? The sun feels great.” You answered, feeling the warm tickle of sunshine on your arm.

“The creatures at night didn’t get the chance to have their run last night because of the rain. They’ll do it now.” He explained.

You wondered how the hell does he know that.

--

You and Johnny kept in touch even after you went back to the city. Though you both of you became very busy with university, you still managed to hang out every once in a while. You never really told Jungwoo about your frequent dates with Johnny. You didn’t know how he would react and you don’t really want him to make a big deal out of it.

The moonlight helped the street lamps in illuminating the dark streets. The spicy flavor the wings you and Johnny shared a while ago still lingered on your tongue. You hid your flushed cheeks onto the thick scarf that was wrapped around your neck.

“That was by far the greatest chicken wings I’ve had my whole life.” Johnny commented beside you. He insisted that he’d walk you back to your dorm.

“Right? It was so good.” You said back. He chuckled beside you.

It wasn’t long before you reached the doorstep of your dorm. You turned to face Johnny who only smiled down on you. Your eyes travelled from his eyes down to his soft lips. You wondered how they taste like. The silence that lingered between you gave Johnny the signal for doing something he might probably regret later.

Your eyes widened when you felt a pair of lips touch yours. Magic burst through your blood. The sweet mix of heaven and spice made you light-headed. You clinged onto Johnny’s neck as you felt something in you and deepened the kiss. You’ve dreamed about touching him for a few nights now. For some reason, he never left your mind ever since you met him. And you for sure won’t forget him any time soon.

You pulled back although you wanted more.

“Let’s do that more.” You spoke.

“I agree.”

--

A bottle of wine later and you found looking up to the ceiling of your dorm. Your head was spinning. The memory of you and Johnny kissing last night only clouded your brain. It ignited a fire in you that you never knew could exist.

“I like him a lot.” You confessed to Jungwoo beside you.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He agreed. Of course he’ll agree, he knows why.

“We’re going on a date tomorrow night.” You added.

“I’m glad it’s Johnny you like.” Jungwoo said. “Not some playboy that’ll break your heart.”

You smiled endearingly at your friend. Jungwoo’s heart warmed at the sight of you. He saw love in your eyes.

--

You giggled at a joke Johnny said. The fancy restaurant he took you to had the best champagne and it was starting to get into you. He held your hand as you swayed them back and forth. He blushed at your demeanor.

A faint sound of a slow love song came from a obnoxiously lighted music store. An idea popped inside of your mind. You pulled Johnny towards the store.

“Woah, slow down.” He reminded you but it had no effect as you were practically running towards the origin of the sound.

“Dance with me.” Your droppy eyes looked up at Johnny.

He looked at the greatest sight the universe had given him in centuries. He chuckled at your idea but proceeded in doing so. You rest your head on his broad chest as he held you close. Johnny’s cheek rest itself on top of your head. He wanted so bad to remove the image of Leona from his head. You’re here. He wanted so badly to give you everything. But the fact that you were down the most romantic thing with him only made him feel a punch to his guts. Everywhere he looked, he always only ever saw Leona.

--

Johnny inserted the key to the door knob of the room. The room was dark yet it contained the light of his life. With the flick of the light switch, dozen of paintings filled Johnny’s vision.

The biggest portrait stood in the middle. Johnny approached it with precaution, afraid that it would break with the slightest touch. The lively colors contradicted the life of the person in the canvas. Rosy cheeks, red lips, and smooth skin. A tear escaped Johnny’s eye. The pain rummaged through his chest. And he remembered it all. Despite it happening years and years ago, every detail was crystal clear in his memory.

“How do I love someone else when I’m reminded of what could have been?” He whispered to the woman in the canvas. Hoping that magic would disperse into the portrait and bring Leona back to him again. The image of you crossed Johnny’s mind. He knew that you were made for him and him only. Werewolves and vampires were given the gift to determine their and their colleagues mates. It was rare for these creatures to be mated to a human. There are only a few werewolves that are destined for humans. And he was unfortunately one of them.

Johnny went outside to the forest. The cracking of his bones and ripping of his clothing accompanied the sound of the rustling leaves. The soil was moist against his paws as he pushed himself towards the air and ran. The adrenaline fueled him and he doesn’t know how long he could run. All he knew was this was the only thing he could do to alleviate the pain.

--

Night after night you found yourself even closer with Johnny. Earlier today, he helped you with your literature homework. As a thank you, you decided to order chicken and come over to his house that he shared with Jaehyun and Mark. You walked through his street and texted him that you were already there. As you approached the porch, you spotted two huge wolves in their front yard. Your soul almost left your body as the creatures whipped their head towards you. You didn’t know what to do. It was like someone super glued your shoes onto the pavements. The rational part of your brain yelled at you to run but your limbs refused to cooperate.

One of the wolves had a dark grey fur, one was white. As much as they are a beautiful sight to look at, the fangs that slip past their snout made you realize that these are dangerous creatures.

“Johnny!” You yelled, hoping he could hear you from the inside.

The grey wolf grunted and stepped towards you. It boggled you how it was only the grey one who was provoked by your yelling. The white wolf watched the grey one as he slowly padded towards you. The rational part of you once again demanded you to leave or to throw the chicken the other way in hopes that it’s that they��re after. However, fear seemed to have melted the moment the wolf touched your arm with its snout. It was sniffing you. And yet, you didn’t feel scared. Lifting a shaking hand, you touched the fur of the wolf. It was smooth as silk.

“Johnny?” You cooed at the wolf. You must definitely be dreaming. The wolf rubbed its head on your hand. Johnny is a fucking wolf? You moved your gaze to the white one. You were confused as you saw Jaehyun standing to where the white wolf was. You gave him a look that showed concern and confusion. All he did was nod at you. You returned your eyes to what you assumed was Johnny’s wolf. Jaehyun gestured for you to go inside the house. He still hasn’t spoken a word to you. You looked back to the grey wolf and trudged your way inside.

You sat the edge of Johnny’s bed. Your left leg rocking up and down in anticipation. You still couldn’t grasp the whole thing. If Johnny and Jaehyun were werewolves, does it mean the others guys, and even Jungwoo, are as well? The door opened softly and you saw Johnny entering lightly.

“You weren’t supposed to find out that way.” He started. His eyes looking down at his feet.

“I still can’t understand anything.” You admitted.

He sat beside you and held your hand. “I’m a werewolf. I know that seems so fantasy movie-like but I am.”

You nodded and squeezed his hand in assurance.

“The reason why Jungwoo took your roommate offer is because he knew that you are my mate.” He continued.

“Mate?” You asked.

“Every wolf and vampire are destined with a soulmate.” He said.

“Vampires exists as well?” Your eyes widened at the scary thought. Your mother told you that these only existed in fiction and you had nothing to fear about. But, the revelations of tonight told you otherwise.

“Yeah. Taeyong and Mark are vampires.” Johnny answered. “Some are destined to be with their kind and some are destined with humans.”

“How long have you been alive?”

“More than four hundred years.”

“Why did it take this long for you to find your soulmate?”

Johnny paused for a while. You saw how he had to swallow before answering. “I met her before. It was the year 1845.”

“What happened to her? She didn’t turn into a werewolf?”

“No. Humans can’t turn into werewolves.” Johnny explained. “It wasn’t long before she died. We only knew each other for 4 years.”

You swallowed in realization. The whole thing was scary. You didn’t know how to take it all in. All you knew was there was something in you that wanted to just kiss him. You sat still in silence. You sighed before turning back to Johnny. Without uttering any questions, you latched your lips into his.

Johnny knew that you were the one made for him; he knew that the night you went to the pack’s house. But tonight, he accepted it. He accepted the fact that the fates bestowed him a new mate. He knew that he would be gifted another one once his soulmate dies. Since he was unfortunately destined to be soulmates with a human, this cycle will go on and on for as long as he lives.

The tension was thick in the air. Johnny’s face was so close to yours that you could almost taste him. The shade of his eyes turned darker, filled with carnal desire. Raising his hand, he cupped your cheek. Love excreted from your skin. For the first time in centuries, Johnny felt something warm. Without wasting any time, he leaned down to capture your lips.

The synchronization of your lips intensified when he felt your fingers tug lightly at his scalp. The growl that fell from his throat traveled to your core. He pulled back to look at your face. He pleaded the heavens to allow him to see beauty again and they did. You felt your back slowly touch his soft mattress. The light from the moon entered his room through the large windows.

The skirt of your dress rode up as you tangled your legs around his waist. His clothed cock pressed deliciously against your aching core. It wasn’t long before every fabric was shredded from your burning bodies. Johnny latched his lips on your neck. He left a few possessive marks before travelling down to where you needed him the most. Your eyes widened when his tongue came in contact with your folds.

It was safe to say that you knew what every corner of heaven looked like that night.

--

“You had sex with him?” Jungwoo yelled at you in surprise.

“What difference does it make?” You reasoned out. “We were bound to do it anyway.”

“Yeah, but you just found out that he’s a werewolf and your instinct was to fuck him?”

“Stop talking as if you’re not one! I’m still mad at you for not telling me.”

“I’m scared that you’ll be scared. It was better you find out about it from your mate.” He explained. You rolled your eyes. Your playful banter coming down as he threw an arm around you. “It amazes me how well you’re taking this.”

“Have you found your soulmate yet?” You asked.

“Not yet. Maybe soon.” He said, shrugging his shoulders.

You hugged him and reassured him that he’ll find his mate soon. You two spent the last remaining hours of the night talking about his werewolf abilities.

--

He knew violence is never the key. But the sight of some guy creeping his filthy fingers across the skin of his mate boiled hell in him. He saw red, he heard nothing but the devil inside his head telling him to punch harder and deeper. It wasn’t until he felt the warmth of your small palm struggling to keep him calm. Lucas held Johnny back as Jaehyun stood in between him and the creep.

“Come on, John.” You said softly, tugging at his arm.

He followed you not before shooting one last threatening gaze at the creep.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You exclaimed.

“That guy was harassing you.” He growled. The wolf in him threatening to come out but he held it in, in fear of scaring you.

“You could have just come up there and talked to him.” You said, getting the small first aid kid in the compartment of his car.

“Why are you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” He said before hissing as the soaked cotton ball touched one of his wound.

“I’m just saying, you didn’t have to put yourself in such danger. Who knows how strong he is.”

Johnny snorted. No one is stronger than him and that guy in the party knew that. He was part of a rogue pack. He knew better than to mess with the alpha of all werewolves. It was on him to know better.

Johnny’s frustrated gaze softened as he looked at your features. Your soft, feathery touch reminiscent of your soft voice. Johnny knew it, he knew it deep inside of him. He felt it burst through his veins and into his mouth as he muttered.

“I love you.”

--

The soft chattering of people welcomed your ears as you and Johnny entered an art exhibit. A love for the arts is something you both shared. Your friend, Minghao, invited everyone in your batch to come see his art exhibit. You scanned the walls filled with all kinds of art; some are photos, sculptures, digital art, abstract art, and a whole lot more.

Johnny bounced as he darted towards the wall filled with photos. You smiled at his cute action as you followed him.

“Wow.” He said in amusement.

“Oh, that’s taken by my classmate, Dahyun.” You pointed to a photo of the sky.

“The kids from your university are extremely talented.”

“They sure are.”

You spent the rest of the night gazing over the artworks. Johnny knew it would be best for him to do as well but he couldn’t help but fawn over your amazed face. The way your eyes shine whenever you look at something you really like. The way your mouth form a small “O”. The way your hair fall from your shoulders when you crouch down to look at something. He admired everything about you that night. A smile swept across his lips.

The night was young but the two of you decided to head home early. The incoming winter season was slowly introducing itself by blowing the freezing wind. A thick layer of sweatshirt draped across both of you and Johnny’s arms.

“I hope I’m keeping you warm.” He said to your sleepy air. You only smiled in response.

Although he had your arms and a thick blanket wrapped around him, somehow, he still felt cold.

--

The sound of rustling leaves filled Johnny’s ears. He slowly opened his eyes and saw sunlight peeking through the branches of the tall trees. He slowly sat up and held his head in his hand. In front of him, an elegant fountain was on display. The water flowed through its different spouts. He stood up and saw the figure of a woman. He knew who it was, he know the person like the back of his hand.

“You should let me go, John.” Her voice is soft yet her words burned.

“I love you, Leona.” He pleaded.

“Y/N is here. You found her.” Her demeanor showed nothing but comfort and sincerity. The sweet smile lingered through her lips. “I no longer exist, John.”

“I can’t.” He whispered.

“Of course, you can.” Her touch shot a blaze through Johnny’s system. “I always believed in you, right? I believe you can.”

--

The soft light of the sun awakened you. A large, heavy hand was wrapped around your waist. You looked back to see Johnny’s sleeping face. You swiped a stray hair out of his face as you admired. You decided to press sweet kisses to his cheek, in hopes that it’ll awaken him.

Johnny stirred and only pulled you closer. The tightening smile that crossed your face soon vanished at something Johnny said in his sleep.

“Hmm, Leona.”

For the next months you let it go. The sound of his voice whispering that name still haunted your mind but you did your best to throw it at the back of your head. You still didn’t know the status of your relationship with Johnny. It just never occurred to the both of you to talk it out. Were you girlfriend and boyfriends? You said “I love you” to each other, that has to make you both official right? The thought sounded cheesy but you just didn’t know how to introduce him to your other friends.

“It’s not I don’t want you to meet them, it’s just that I don’t know what to introduce you as.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Just say that you don’t want me to meet your parents and go.” Johnny fought back.

You sighed. “All I’m asking you to do is to define what we have right now. Do you want me to tell my parents that you’re just some guy I fuck?”

“How can you still not get it? I told you I love you.”

“Ugh, do you really think saying ‘I love you’ is gonna make everything loud and clear between us?”

He exhaled sharply. Johnny’s mind was clouded. All that’s running through his mind as of the moment are brief memories of Leona. But you were here. You’re the new soul that was destined to be with him. The universe answered his pleads and yearning. He cursed himself as he realized that there was a part of him that wished he never said the three words to you. He didn’t even realize that you left if it wasn’t for the harsh slam of his front door.

--

Jungwoo sighed as he opened a new pint of ice cream for you. A soft blanket was draped over your shoulders as your head rested on Jihyo’s shoulders. Jungwoo looked over Jihyo and they both exchanged a look of sympathy for you. You hated feeling this way. You know full well that a man shouldn’t be the reason for your tears. But it just hurts knowing that Johnny probably don’t want a future with you.

“I wish I could hug the pain out of you.” Jungwoo said. You sniffed and straightened your position. You have to ask Jungwoo the question.

“Woo,” You called. “Who’s Leona?”

The muscles of Jungwoo’s upper body tensed at the mention of that. That’s a name he hasn’t heard in a while.

“How did you know that name?” He answered you with another question.

“Johnny,” You sobbed but swallowed thickly to continue. “He said it while he was asleep.”

Jungwoo stood up from his seat in the couch and joined you and Jihyo on the floor. He slinged his arm around your shoulders and rubbed them in comfort.

“Leona was Johnny’s first mate.” He said. You remembered Johnny mentioning that he met his first mate before. “We only knew her for a few years. Johnny really loves her and what made her death even more painful is that it happened only 16 hours before their wedding.”

You gasped at the revelation. Were you supposed to feel sorry for Johnny?

“So, there’s a probability that he still haven’t moved on?” Jihyo asked.

“That might be it.” Jungwoo answered.

All you did was sob harder into Jungwoo’s chest. Your two friends enveloped you into an embrace that they wish could take away your pain.

--

The stars twinkled above the whole city. The wind whistled as it breezed across the trees. The sound of Jaehyun’s party seeped into the walls, making the faint sound of the commotion echo through the balcony. Johnny sensed your presence from behind him.

“Hey.” You said, walking over beside you and leaning your body against the railings.

“Hey.” He replied.

“You said you wanted to talk?”

“Uh, yeah.” Johnny sighed. “I should be over the moon for meeting you.”

“Hmm.” You could only hum out a response.

“I’m sorry.” He said with all the sincerity he could offer. “You’re my mate and nothing could ever change but-”

“You told me you loved me.”

His eyes softened. “I know. I am.”

“Then what’s the matter? Is it me? Is it-”

“I’m not in love with you, Y/N.�� He cut you off. He couldn’t bear the pain of hearing you blame yourself over something that’s his fault alone.

Your eyes watered even more. He saw your lips whimper and tremble.

“I wish I could push myself to forget her. To forget the pain and every memory of her.” He started.

“You don’t have to do that. It’s okay, I understand.” You assured in a small voice.

“I’m sorry.”

“When do you think you’ll be ready again?”

“I don’t know.”

You tried to hold back the tears that welled in your eyes. Your breathing became staggered. You stood on your tip toes as you placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

You walked back to your house with a heavy heart. It was as if the world decided to throw boulders on your shoulders. You looked up to the moon and sighed. The tears fell from your cheeks like a storm. You were uncertain if you would see Johnny again.

Oh my god, I’m gonna die as lonely as I feel tonight.

----

“A bouquet of asphodels and purple hyacinths, please.” Johnny said to Taehyung the florist.

Taehyung smiled softly at Johnny as he turned around to arrange the bouquet. After Johnny got the flowers, he walked slowly to your destination. He wasn’t sure if you were ever going to forgive him but he tried. He melted every ounce of pride within him. Johnny hated apologizing but he knows he has to. He could never spend the rest of his painfully, never-ending life without hearing your forgiveness.

He crouched down and place the flowers. Your new home only caused Johnny’s heart to squeeze tight. It reminded him of what could have been. For all the regret and mistakes he made, he exhaled sharply. As if on cue, a stray white tulip landed on your grave.

Johnny smiled behind his tears. He picked up the flower - the sign that you forgive him.

FIN.

a/n: i hope you liked this! feedback and thoughts are always welcome. <3

[lorelylantana]

Savageries of the Heart Chapter 5: Homecoming

First-Previous-Next

Ao3

Chapter rating: T Overall Rating: E

“How did this happen?” she asked, setting the slate down to look at her husband. He looked sheepish.

“It didn’t happen overnight,” Link explained, “After the Sheikah were banished from the Kingdom of Hyrule they came to us for protection after their own military forces were lost, and the other races opted for their own independence. That much is true, and it was for centuries after. The Sheikah don’t really have a desire for leading outside of their own people, so as long as the Zonai reinforced their borders and funded their research they were content to share the fruits of their knowledge. 

“We’ve always believed in extending a hand in aid where we could, so on the occasions that the other races reached out for help, we’ve been the first to respond. We built the dam in Zora’s domain and we killed the Lynels haunting the Rito snowfields. When the Gerudo canyon collapsed we’re the ones that cleared the rubble to let them travel safely once again. Bit by bit the other races began to see the benefits of being a unified nation again, so we expanded the railways, the Sheikah streamlined communications, new Wardens were named, and we came whole again.”

“Not completely,” Zelda interjected, oddly defensive. She felt Noodle’s nose bump into her chin, perhaps in response to her racing pulse.

“Not completely,” Link agreed, “But it was a king on Hylia’s throne that fractured the continent in the first place, and the Sheikah have long memories. Even with the countless records locked away, they knew it wasn’t the first time they had been made to vacate Hyrule, so they advised us to keep the royal family in the dark and wait.”

“For what?” Zelda asked. He looked in her eyes.

“For the right Queen.”

Fat chance of that one, considering her uncle sat on the throne and she was the Hollow Daughter of Hylia.

“Tell me more about the Wardens,” Zelda said, uncomfortable at the implied expectation.

Link scooted over, taking the slate in his hand he fiddled with the map settings until Zelda watched the borders she was familiar with reappear. Noodle uncoiled from her spot on Zelda’s wrist to sniff at the screen, her snout tapping on the small region north of Mount Lanayru, if that was indeed it’s name and not another lie told to her people. A box appeared with white text.

The Wellspring

Warden: Dorephan [Contact]

Rising Warden: Mipha [Contact]

“Each region is governed by a Warden,” Link explained, his breath tickling her ear and his arm slipping around her waist, “Dorephan is the current Warden of the Wellspring, but he gave his notice of retirement last year, so Mipha, his daughter is carrying out the majority of his duties until she slays a great beast and takes over his position completely.”

Zelda tapped the harbor their icon was inching towards, highlighting the region that Zelda originally thought to be the entire Zonai nation.

Dragonlands

Warden: Link

Rising Mother: Zelda Lana Hyrule [Contact]

Zelda noticed that the word ‘contact’ was written in green. Curious, she tapped it, expecting the screen to change. Instead there was a chiming from her headdress. Zelda tensed up. Link gave a little chuckle before pinching her translator between his fingers for a moment.

“What was that?” Zelda asked, but he only held up his finger again, shooting her a wink as he got up and left the the observation deck

“Can you hear me?”

Zelda flinched, startled. Her husband’s voice had replaced the mechanical words from her translator.

“Yes,” she responded, walking to the window to see her husband walking into view below. In her ear she could hear the sea breeze until his voice returned.

“A secondary function, though a recent one,” Link said, waving up at her.

Zelda looked at the slate again.

“Why can’t I call you?” she asked, noting the option to contact didn’t appear next to her husband’s name.

“That’s my personal slate, it would be like writing a letter to myself.”

He began walking up the stairs, and she could hear his footsteps, which was a bit disorienting without a stair in sight. They spent the rest of the trip eating their lunch while Link explained the basic functions of a Sheikah Slate. Zelda pressed an icon with a small blue circle, and a glowing blue orb appeared in her hands. Link mumbled something in Zonai that the Zelda’s translator interpreted as a string of curse words that had her ears burning. Link took the orb from her hands, chucked it through a window he’d opened before pressing the ‘cancel’ button right next to the one labeled ‘detonate’.

“That was an explosive,” he said by way of explanation. Zelda’s eyes widened.

“Does everyone else on the continent have access to explosives?” she asked, alarmed. Link shook his head with a laugh.

“Farore above, no. The slates given to Wardens and have greater capabilities than most citizens’. Standard issue slates are much more limited. Identification, communications, and finances only.”

“What does it mean by ‘Rising Mother?” Zelda asked, now holding the slate at arm’s length.

“Being my wife makes you the Mother of the Dragonlands, but since you haven’t officially accepted the title you’re listed as ‘Rising’.”

“How do I accept it?” she asked, Link smiled, bright and relieved. 

“I’ll show you when we get home.”

She liked that sentence because of the assumption. There was a warm undertone to the flippant reminder that she had a home here. She was in a foreign country that wasn’t at all like she imagined, but she had a place set aside for her. It was enough to banish the dissatisfaction of her question going unanswered and allowed her to walk hand in hand with her husband with a spring in her step. As they descended onto the dock, she couldn’t help but notice that it was pretty deserted, though she did see a large building at the top of a large cliff. Link led them down into the sand. They came across a strange platform on the ground before Link placed his palm on a screen covered pedestal. After fiddling with the screen Link took out a vial of simmering red liquid she recognized as an elixir and pressed it into her hand. She drank it, savoring the kick that she recognized as a spicy elixir. Link watched as she swallowed it.

“How did I do?” he asked, brow raised. She took another sip.

“It’s a tad overdone,” she admitted, “but effective,”

He nodded, satisfied with her answer. She shook out her limbs, the heat spreading to her fingers and toes like a fever.

“It’s a little warm for a spicy elixir, isn’t it?” she asked, quizzical. He winked at her, resting a palm against the blank screen. After a blue line ran up and down the pedestal chimed and the world faded away.

The world returned in slices, descending bit by bit to create a small alcove tucked in the corner of a much larger room filled with plush chairs and couches facing a strange black rectangle set upon a table. Despite the questions burning through her mind, she found herself transfixed by the opposite wall. Rather than the intricate stonework that made up the majority of the room, the wall they walked along had an almost translucent, iridescent quality to it, orange light shining through that mimicked the sunset outside. She pressed a hand to it and dragged her palm along its smooth, chilled surface, her breath coming out in clouds in front of her. Link showed her a large glass box filled with vegetation and a lamp which, in a notable departure from the standard blue light fixtures around the room, shone with a warm yellow light.

“For Noodle,” Link said by way of explanation, opening the box.

Zelda beamed from ear to ear, reaching into the terrarium to let the serpent climb onto one of the winding branches. She could have sworn she saw some of the blue scales glow, but it was probably a trick of the light.

“Say Noodle again,” she said, tucking her hand into his elbow.

“Why?”

“Because it sounds cute in your accent,” she admitted, cheeks flushing slightly.

He gave her a quizzical look but nonetheless obliged her, “Noodle.”

She giggled, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder as they walked down the hall to a larger, yet somehow more intimate room.

 Zelda stepped forward and turned to examine their bedroom. The walls were carved in hundreds of illustrations of plant and animal life alike, each shape crafted with a myriad of stones that must have been gathered from all corners of Hyrule. A fox made from the rich Eldin rock, wolves shaped from the cool blue of Upland Zora, and pigeons carved from Necluda stone. The lush scenes of the wild were dominated by sprawling depictions of dragons lording over it all. She recognized the serpent she glimpsed on their wedding day coiled protectively over their bed which, while lower to the floor than her own, was far wider than any bed she’d ever scene and stacked with silks and cushions. 

After the stress of the day, Zelda was ready to lie down, but her husband had other ideas, taking her hand and pulling her to the corner on her left, where another dragon curled around a bath that looked far too big for just the two of them. Nevertheless, Zelda followed him gratefully, glad that at least one of her preconceived notions of the Zonai held true.

Owlan had told her the Zonai viewed baths an intimate affair, which she had understood. The difference lay in that married couples were supposed to bathe together, and often. This practice was apparently so common that newlyweds were not considered fully united until they blessed their marital home with a bath. Thus, when Link’s hands began to unravel the cloth around her chest, she made no comment, only moving to undo his belt.

When they were both stripped down they stepped over the lip of the massive tub. Link took the lead as the welcoming spouse, turning her around so he could run his hands down her back. Despite the spicy elixir having a good deal of time before it wore off, the water felt cool. Not enough to feel uncomfortable, but impossible to ignore. If her elixir couldn’t hold off the chill, she wondered how frigid it must be. Zelda was dissuaded from asking questions by Link’s touch, warm and steady as they started to rub soap into her back. She sighed and felt her head roll to one side. Zelda let her gaze rest on the luminescent stone of the second dragon. Unlike Farosh, the horn of this creature almost resembled a crown, spikes pointing away from the creature’s face. 

“I saw Farosh on our wedding day,” Zelda said idly, her shoulders easing under his touch. He hummed and started to work on her arms.

“The gods approve of our marriage.”

This intimacy in the water was softer than what they shared in their honeymoon, but no less potent. Perhaps this gentle caress was one of the unsung sides of love, often overlooked for that wildfire lust that overtook them so many times. And yet, as Zelda grew warmer under his ministrations a deep sense of peace took root, easing away the emotional strain of the day’s revelations. For all the deceit revealed to her, his growing affection for her felt genuine. 

Link pulled her to rest against his chest so he could reach around to her stomach. When she relaxed and let her arms rest back in the water it became clear that the heat wasn’t just from his embrace but from the bath, once so cold it broke through her elixir’s protection.

“What happened to the water?” she asked, dragging a hand through the bathwater. It was heated as a hot spring. “Zonai leaders have always drawn strength from the land, wielding magic both consciously and instinctively.” he explained, washing and rinsing her hair, “This flow is strongest in the springs and other sacred sights, giving us enough protection to render even the harshest weather mild.”

Link turned her around to look her in the eyes as he took her leg into his lap, “We swore to each other before our people,” he explained, massaging her calf as he spoke, “we’ve proven this union to one another in our bed. But only here, alone in holy water atop a sacred mountain, do we verify our marriage before the gods. You are Mother of the Dragonlands, and now all the spirits watching over us recognize you as such, and give their power freely.”

Zelda smiled, security pulsing steady in her chest. The feeling was compounded by small, swirling clusters of energy she could now feel brushing against her skin and shielding her from the unrelenting cold of her new home. After pressing a quick kiss to his lips she urged him to turn around.  Relishing in the heated water, she took the cloth from the lip of the tub and lathered it in soap so she could start to scrub his back and arms. She traced some of the paint on his bicep before wiping it off.

“What do the markings mean?” she asked. She had watched him apply the paint several times since their wedding, though never as much as he did the night itself.

“It’s less about design and more about location,” he answered, “The paint makes us stronger. We use it to stimulate the muscles we use most in battle.”

She rubbed his other arm clean before moving on to his chest. He smiled lazily, resting his hands on her hips, his thumbs circling idly.

“How’s it made?” 

“I’ll send you the recipe.”

Zelda raised a brow, “Just one?”

“The only one that works.”

Now that was an intriguing prospect. Alas, it would have to wait for another day, as Zelda started to yawn when washing his legs and feet and her eyes had started to close on their own accord when they dried off on the steps leading up to the tub. She heard Link give a low chuckle as he pulled the towel from her hands and began to rub the moisture out of her hair, massaging her scalp in the process. His touch put her at so much ease that she ended up dozing off with her face resting against his thigh. Zelda only stirred when he did, sliding off the lip of the tub to take her in his arms. She didn’t open her eyes when she was rocked in his arms as he crossed the room. She felt the cool, smooth sheet covering the bed before it dipped to accommodate her husband’s weight. Zelda reached for him blindly and was rewarded by his arms wrapping behind her back, pressing their bare chests together. She felt Link’s lips on her forehead.

“Goodnight,” he whispered into her hair. She nuzzled his shoulder and kissed what felt like his collarbone.

“Goodnight.”

[angelaiswriting]

I Love You | Fuze x fem!reader

✏️ Pairing: Fuze x fem!reader

✏️ Summary: The five times he thought he loved her, and the one time he told her. (Inspired by the lovely @kind-wolf​, who also provided prompts since I lack in the fluff department lol)

✏️ A/N: I’m rusty af but there you go, someone please bring back the X times they thought they loved their person and the time they told them trope, thank you very much. Alice, I hope your day will be better than yesterday, thank you for all the help 💛 @sazafraz​ I hope you’ll enjoy this as well :’)

✏️ Warnings: just what I hope is fluff (+ it’s almost midnight, I proofread this as best as I could, forgive any mistake pls)

✏️ Word-count: 4,887

ONE

The first time he thought he could love her was when everything else felt cold and distant.

 If it wasn’t for the fact that she picked up the call right before the third ring, he’d have one more reason to sulk about the past shitty forty-eight hours. First, a mission almost gone wrong and that has left him battered and sore. In pain would probably be the best term, but Shuhrat doesn’t like to complain too much. Then, a fight with a couple of operators he doesn’t know that well but that he has by now labeled as dickheads, thus turning them into people he won’t be looking forward to hanging out with—not now, and surely not even any time soon. Then, problems with his flight, which have led to him landing in Moscow five hours later than anticipated.

And if that isn’t enough, he’s almost considering turning on his heels and hopping down the five flights of stairs that separate him from the chaos of the city out there. He has his duffel bag in one hand and an umbrella that decided to break at the wrong damn moment in the other. And truly, he doesn’t know why he’s still holding onto it but some part of him buried deep inside his brain makes him believe that everything’s going to shatter if he lets it drop.

But he’s ringing the doorbell for the third time now and he thinks that fuck it, maybe I should really just leave. And if it weren’t for the fact that the anniversary of his brother’s disappearance is coming up, he would crash at his parents’ place; he’s missed them, after all. However, right as he’s about to truly turn around and start his descent, there’s commotion coming from inside. Barking. Someone groaning. And then the sound of a dog whining and grumbling at an order it doesn’t want to take.

“Hey!” She’s panting, trying to hold back a white and brown dog by its collar. “Sorry, this big baby just came back covered in mud from his walk and I was giving him a bath.”

“It’s…” Shuhrat eyes the big hound dog and for a moment, he wonders how on earth she’s managing to keep him from jumping through the threshold. “No problem.” The smile he gives her is just half there, and he’s painfully aware of it. If it were another time in his life, probably twenty years or so ago, he’d let the tears run freely down his cheeks, but he knows how to keep himself in check now. “Sorry it took me so long. I couldn’t find a taxi, so I had to take a bus.”

But she’s grinning, and the happiness so clear on her face makes her eyes squint. “God, I’m so happy you’re here, Shuhrat! It’s been forever! Come in, you’re soaking my doormat,” she adds with a chuckle.

Walking into her apartment proves to be quite the feat, with the dog—Buran, she says with great pride in her voice—barely moving from the spot he seems to have rooted himself in right in the entrance. He doesn’t move; he simply stands there, with Y/N trying to drag him at least a step to the side, and stares at him, muzzle wrinkled in preparation to snarl, but the aggression never comes. After a long moment of contemplation, Buran takes a step forward, boops his thigh with his nose, and then turns back toward his owner.

“He’s a big boy,” she says when she lets go of the dog’s collar, “but he’s never hurt anybody. Sometimes I think it’s all for show.”

“Is he…”

She nods, and the discussion ends there. He doesn’t ask how she’s been holding up after her grandparents’ death, and she doesn’t tell. What she does, though, is wait silently as he takes his boots off, the only sound that of Buran drinking water in the background.

When he looks up, she’s staring at him and there’s the shadow of a frown on her face, her head slightly tilted to the side as she studies him. He almost feels like a specimen in a laboratory, and there’s this knot slowly forming in the back of his throat that just… chokes him, in a way. He has nothing to complain about, but the stitches on his left thigh sting like a bitch, and he’s exhausted, and all he wants is to sleep curled up under heavy blankets for at least a month.

She doesn’t inquire, though. She doesn’t ask him possibly uncomfortable questions: they’ve known each other for far too long that they now know when it’s time for questions and when it’s not. All she does is offer him a smile—one of those half smiles of hers that always used to make him wonder how much, exactly, she knows.

“You look like you could use a hug.” She doesn’t step forward as she says that, and he doesn’t either, but her eyes never leave his.

“My clothes are wet.”

“And your point is…”

When she does hug him, it’s like being trapped in one of those moments where the body moves faster than the brain, and he finds himself wrapping his arms around her before he even has the time to utter a word. She’s warm and solid, in a way, and it’s almost like he’s being given permission to just let go for once and forget about anything that’s not part of the here and now.

It’s then that the thought pops up unsolicited in his mind. They’ve been growing closer again, and it’s like the time they spent growing apart when he was engaged didn’t even exist in the first place. Her texts are what he wakes up with a smile on his lips for, even though Sanya pokes fun at him at times, and he often finds himself subconsciously longing for her calls.

He’s hugging her, his forehead pressed into the crook of her neck as he soaks her clothes, and he thinks that fuck, if he could open up enough to fall in love again, why not with her?

*

TWO

The second time he thought he could be in love with her was on Skype.

 “Is that my sweatshirt?” The urge to grin is tugging at the corners of his lips and he does his best to suppress it, truly, but it’s a hard task when at some point Buran jumps up on her bed and all Shuhrat sees is his wet nose and hairy snout.

“C’mon, baby, sit back,” he hears her groan as she drags the dog back from her laptop and against her pillows. “Jesus, I hadn’t expected for this bear to fall in love with you so fast.” These words are followed by a jokingly eye-roll and a cheater whispered right against Buran’s ear. “But yes, Agent Eagle Eye, it’s your sweatshirt.”

“The last time you wore my things, we were still in school.” He misses those days—kinda. He’s glad he doesn’t have to put up with teachers and classmates anymore, doesn’t miss tests or having to study, but there’s still nostalgia laced with those memories and for a moment, it tastes bittersweet, until she answers back with one of her jokes.

They talk about everything and nothing at once for a long while, spend long minutes catching up over what happened in the past three weeks, after he’s finally gone back to Hereford after the month he’s somehow managed to spend in Moscow. Bunkered up for most of the time in her apartment with her dog is more like it, but these are details he has no problem overlooking.

Timur is nice and although he never says an ill or sarcastic word about how Shuhrat’s leave has gone, there has always been a smile on his lips that wasn’t there before that godforsaken mission. Sometimes Shuhrat thinks his friend knows something he doesn’t—like right now, as he gets dressed in a nice suit to go out on a date—, at least not yet, but he also doesn’t want to ask questions whose answers he might not want to hear, so he always keeps his suspicions to himself.

He does sigh, though, when Tima pokes his head from behind him and smiles at the girl on the screen. This man’s always blabbing about you—or something like that; Shuhrat is too busy worrying about his burning ears and how they’d better not be blushing to actually pay attention to the quick exchange between his two friends.

There’s silence after that. Timur leaves the dorm room after Maxim popped his head in, and it’s just Y/N and him once again. They stare at each other and she’s smiling and he’s trying to force his brain to think because fuck, he’s okay with long silences, really, but not with her. It’s Buran’s soft bark that encourages the conversation to flow again, and she asks if he’s received the package she’s sent.

He has, and when he recovers it from under his bed, where he’s been storing it in wait for one of their video calls, she prompts him to open it. His chuckle makes her chuckle because damn, sometimes she just goes to sweet lengths for him and he never knows what he’s done to deserve such a friend.

“I hope you still love korovki,” she giggles and when he picks up a handful of korovka candies, that giggle turns into a soft laughter that seems to ring even through the speakers of his old laptop.

“You even remembered about slivy v shokolade…” The smile is more in his eyes than it is on his lips, and he knows it, he feels it somehow. It’s a nice feeling and it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, and for the first time ever he wishes he could push himself into his screen and out of hers just to give her a hug. “Why?” he wonders out loud and before she breaks out into a huge smile, he has a brief couple of seconds to scold himself for asking that question. Even though he has no reason to, really.

“You were feeling down,” she explains, “and you also sounded a bit pissed. I thought candy would make you feel a bit better again, since I clearly can’t ship this ball of fur all the way there.” She ruffles Buran’s head as she says so and the dog licks her face before settling down and laying his heavy head on her belly. “He sends something as well, in case you feel lonely, since you basically became snuggle buddies.”

He chuckles, both at her words and at all the time Buran has spent on his lap in the time he’s spent crashing at Y/N’s place. “Not my fault I give nice cuddles,” he shrugs as he digs through candies and chocolates.

There’s a rabbit plushie in there and while it’s been washed, it’s clear who its previous owner is. An ear is slightly off, a little more down the head compared to the other, and it’s proof that Buran played with it a bit too roughly one day and tore it off. The ribbon around the rabbit’s neck is new, though, a vibrant sunflower yellow color that matches almost to perfection that of the dog’s collar.

“I thought this was his favorite,” he muses, holding it up so that both she and Buran can see it.

The dog woofs once before he snuggles his human and a paw accidentally moves the laptop enough to turn it to the side and pick up his wagging tail. A moment later, though, Y/N is back into the frame.

“I told him to pick a toy to send to you, and he chose that. Don’t question his choices, Kessikbayev. My baby knows what he’s doing.”

“Alright, alright!” But they’re both smiling, and it truly does feel like being kids all over again, when they played with his brother and her sisters in the park.

“There should be something else on the bottom,” she says after a while, more seriousness in her voice, and she sits up a little straighter to lean against her pillows. “I know it’s probably silly, but I remember when our parents took us to Kazan when we were eight and we said we would be friends forever. We both lost our bracelets swimming two years later, but…”

Her words fade as he opens the rectangular plastic box he missed just minutes before. There, stretched out open, lies a white bracelet with a single aquamarine bead. It is exactly like the one they had gifted each other a lifetime ago and even though almost twenty-five years have passed, it still feels like yesterday. The blue sky, the birds chirping, and the condensation of their breaths mingling in the air as all they could think about was the fritters they were going to buy soon with the rest of their money.

“Burya and I went back to visit one of my aunts, and when I saw it in the shop window, I thought, why not?”

He doesn’t tell her he won’t be able to wear it, not for the majority of his time at least, but he still has days off, and he still appreciates her lovely gesture. He appreciates it more than he can tell and when he looks up from the bracelet to thank her, all he can think about is how light he feels when he’s with her. Even through Skype.

*

THREE

The third time he thought that maybe he was truly developing romantic feelings for her was when she came to visit.

 It’s the week before his birthday, the only one she’s managed to take off from her work at the vet clinic, but he swears he already feels like the birthday boy on his special day.

He’s rented a room for her in the bed and breakfast closest to the base, but they both know he’ll end up spending more time there than he will in his own dorm. The guys will probably start asking questions, but he knows Timur has his back and that he’ll come up with something—like he’s always done in the weeks that have followed his Muscovite leave. For once, though, he doesn’t mind the questions: he would still prefer not to answer them, for he’s not sure he’d have answers to give anyway, but somehow he doesn’t mind the idea of people he’s (kind of) close to wondering about what’s going on between him and a woman.

Which he… doesn’t know, but he guesses that he’s ready to find out.

That’s what he thinks about as he lies in bed next to her. His thumb is slowly brushing along the two-word tattoo on the side of her ribcage, below her breast, but he can’t exactly focus his mind and actually read it, for he’s too busy wondering how they ended up in that situation in the first place.

“What are you thinking about?” she whispers after a while, gaze focused on the wooden beams of the ceiling visible in the warm light of the dimmed bathroom lights they left on before they even had the chance to towel themselves dry.

His answer is preceded by a low hum that seems to reverberate right in his chest. His lips press a light kiss to the side of her boob before he props himself up on an elbow to look down at her. He smiles and then, with a tingling sensation still in his lips, he whispers back, You.

Her hand comes up to cup his cheek and right as she lets out a soft sigh, her thumb wipes across his cheekbone once. “What are we doing?” she asks, her eyes never leaving his as she does her best to even out her breathing. She will be sore in the morning, but Shuhrat doesn’t know yet.

He shrugs his shoulders once and for a moment, he almost regrets staying over. He should have gone back to the base; he should have accompanied her back to the bed and breakfast, of course, and then gone back to the base. Stayed up with the guys for a few drinks, watched football on the huge flatscreen in one of the common areas, and then slept in his bed.

“I think we…” Her tongue briefly comes out to wet her lower lip and he finds himself unable to look away. “We could do it again.” The tone of her voice is hesitating and it falters toward the end of the sentence, somehow making it sound more like a question than an affirmation.

Shuhrat smirks and when she tentatively pulls him down to kiss him, her lips press against the scar above his lip for a moment. “Now?” he asks, voice raspy but eyes twinkling as one of his hands trails down her side and over her hip.

“No!” Her laugh is weak and breathy, and she closes her eyes for a second before she shakes her head. “I want to be able to go on that hike with you and your friends in the morning. But when we’re back… Who knows?”

He’s leaning against the frame of the bathroom door five minutes later, dressed only in his birthday suit and arms crossed against his chest. He’s watching her brush her teeth and absentmindedly listening to her recount something Burya did the day before she left him at one of her sisters’ place, but his eyes keep on getting trained back to the tattoo on her ribcage.

Two words. An exclamation mark. 

The smile that tugs at his lips is hard to contain and even to conceal, and its reflection in the mirror is what makes her turn her head in his direction as a confused expression settles on her features.

“I used to always say that.”

She spits mouthwash in the sink before asking back, “What?”

“So mnoj!” he smiles. “With me! Growing up.”

It takes her a moment before realization dawns on her and her eyes trail down her body in the mirror. “Yeah, I know, that’s why it’s there,” she smiles.

*

FOUR

The fourth time he thought he was starting to fall in love with her was at a paintball game.

 The early spring air is still chilly when they decide to play paintball on the ground of Timur’s dacha. It’s a way to pass time—and to give Timur and his girl a few hours alone. Glazkov doesn’t say it—he never does, truly, he doesn’t complain—but his broken leg is bothering him a little and he needs to look after it a bit more instead of hiding his discomfort behind a finger when his friends are with him.

If anything, Y/N has been a great addition to the group—and Buran has managed to bring a smile on everyone’s face countless times with his playful antics and his oh-so-sweet nature around his human. But even though he would love to participate in the game, Y/N has ordered him to stay back on the porch in fear that he—or anyone else, for that matter—might get hurt somehow.

She’s teamed up with Alexsandr and despite the fact that they have already lost three games, they’ve still decided to go for the same tactic one more time. They’re hiding behind a different set of bushes, sure, but he and Maxim can hear them giggle at some pun one of the two must have said, and a victory has never been easier.

They stand still for a while, listening to their hilarity, but before they have the time to take a step forward, Buran dashes across the grounds of the dacha and flushes them out. There’s a rapid sequence of Burya! and Party pooper! and I can’t breathe! that makes both Shuhrat and Maxim laugh out loud, paintball guns still in hand and pointed toward the bushes.

Tachanka is the first to get out of his hiding spot. He crawls across the cold and hard ground trying his best to keep breathing through his laughter as Burya playfully shakes his leg in his usual way to play fight. “Soldier, you’re giving out our position!”

“You should know how to play this game better than this, Sanya,” Maxim exclaims and the second after their friend has managed to stand back up on his feet, he shoots a green paintball right in the middle of his chest. “Dead.”

When Burya runs up to him, Shuhrat can’t help the happy laughter that bubbles up in his chest. “Good boy,” he coos, glove-clad hand petting his head. “Now go drag your mama out.”

He stops for a moment as the dog runs back behind the bush and in that brief minute, he realizes for the first time that he has never felt like this, at least not in a long while—like he has finally opened up, even if only to those close to him.

But then Y/N’s pleas of surrender take him back to the present moment and he smiles because damn, he thinks this is thanks to her as well. Her and this happy dog he’s grown so attached to.

“I promise I won’t shoot, Solnyshko!” and even though Max is chuckling under his breath in a way that would lead to thinking the opposite, he still lowers his gun and takes a step back.

Back at the dacha, as Timur’s girlfriend places all kinds of sweets on the table to pair with their tea, Shuhrat takes Y/N to the side for a moment and sits on the porch with Burya staring at them from the porch swing. It’s just the two of them, like after a whole day spent playing and all the other kids went home, but just… a bit quieter, with the first stars starting to twinkle in the approaching darkness of the evening.

“I’m so bad at paintball,” is the chuckle that distracts him from the never-ending horizon. “But Sanya surely wasn’t helping!”

“That’s no excuse, love.” He wraps an arm around her shoulders—earning a low warning whine from her dog—and pulls her closer into his side. “You’re both bad, that’s just the truth.”

The playful slap he earns to his knee is weak and light. “I should have teamed up with Maxim. I think we would have beaten your sorry ass, then.”

She grins up at him and he smiles down at her and for a moment all he can think is Fuck it! before he tilts his head and kisses her.

*

FIVE

The fifth time he thought he was in love with her, without a doubt this time, she had kids tackling her to the ground.

 Tanya’s fifth birthday party is going strong and after the mermaid-themed cake and an endless hour spent opening presents of every kind imaginable, all the kids have gone back to playing. It is a tag game this time and as Burya plays with them, running around the garden and barking happily every once in a while, Shuhrat and Y/N watch the scene with the biggest grins on their faces.

She’s sitting sideways on his lap and he’s probably holding her closer than he ever has. It’s been a while since they stopped wondering what it was and just… embraced it. It’s nothing official, everything’s still off the record, but he has clothes at her place and a mug in a cabinet in her kitchen and when he’s over, the leather armchair in the living room becomes his and Buran’s favorite spot to snuggle and relax.

“I didn’t think your family could get any bigger,” he confesses when she pecks his freshly-shaven cheek.

“I have five sisters,” she giggles, snuggling closer and resting her head on his shoulder. “If we fly low and go for an average of three kids each, I will end up with fifteen nephews! But as you see,” and she points at her sister Marina and the baby bump she’s sporting, “we’re not flying low at all.”

He laughs at that and hugs her closer with one arm as he brings his beer bottle to his lips with the other. “Have you ever thought of…” He shrugs. “Adding some of your own to the bunch?”

She looks at him lost in thought for a while, taking the beer from his hand to steal a sip, before she eventually shrugs her shoulders in return. “I don’t know, I haven’t considered it yet. I’m happy with just Burya and you so far. He’s like a baby to me, he’s just not in human form.”

He doesn’t have time to say anything. Little Kolya drags her away by her right hand, and Masha follows suit and grabs her other hand.

Shuhrat watches with a smile on his face as she goes back to being the babysitting auntie and just as seven children gang up on her and drag her to the floor, Anastasia sits next to him and sends him a knowing smile.

“I’ve never seen her happier than when she’s with you.” Her confession somehow catches him unprepared and although there’s nothing wrong in the words leaving Y/N’s eldest sister’s lips, he still feels the urge to tear his eyes from her. “And I know I haven’t seen you in forever, but I remember you being at your lowest and I’m glad you’ve both pushed each other back to the surface.”

*

SIX

Then, there finally came the time he told her.

 All Shuhrat can do is look at her, simply stare at her dance in the pouring rain that has caught them by surprise after a whole afternoon spent playing with their dog on the beach. He knows the quick and sudden summer downpour isn’t bound to last long, but the intensity of the rain and the deep gray of the sky almost make him think otherwise.

Their Ukrainian vacation on the Black Sea has felt like a dream so far, the best leave he’s had in forever, probably. Nothing has managed to disrupt his peace in the past week and if anything, he’s spent these days getting closer to his girl and Burya. Whether in the apartment they have rented or out exploring, nothing has ever felt so much like home, not even in a foreign country, than it feels like with her.

She’s twirling and laughing now, though, face turned up toward a steely sky and arms open wide, almost as though she could somehow take flight. The ringing of her laughter is drowned out by the raging pitter-pattering of the downpour that is soaking him to the bone, but he swears he can still hear it. Buran is barking by his side, unable to stay still or to stop his tail from wagging wildly against his shin, and there’s something so indescribable in the scene he’s witnessing that his heart feels like it’s being held in a grip.

It is one of those moments when the time feels like it finally stops, if so for just a moment, and something clicks. There’s this one piece that finally finds its place and a light turns on, and everything is clearer than it’s ever been. Not that it hasn’t been before—because it has, even with him not being able to fully admit it to himself—it’s just that it feels… actually real, this time. Like that’s the truth and there’s no hiding it anymore, not when it’s clearly brighter than the sun.

The realization seeps into his limbs like the rain that’s soaking his clothes and he just… smiles. It’s only one side of his lips at first, a smirk that tries to conceal the smile he can’t contain—in vain.

When she stops right in front of him, still giggling like a child, her breathing is all over the place. Fast and almost messy, and she is panting, desperately trying to catch her breath as she shakes her head a couple of times, trying to make the world stand still once again. She has hair sticking to her face and he can see her black bikini through the soaked-through fabric of her summer dress.

He somehow thinks back to the day he rang her doorbell three times. And to the hug she gave him that day, the one that almost cracked his tough exterior right open, and he realizes that he doesn’t really mind feeling like that with her. That he doesn’t really mind being vulnerable in her presence, and that he enjoys feeling like he belongs with her.

It is then that he says it out loud, and it feels good and almost warm inside as he stands there, teeth clattering from the cold. But the rain is too loud, and when she screams over its sound and over that of the howling wind that picks up suddenly, he finds himself kicking aside all the fears he has at the idea of opening up completely.

“I love you!” He screams it in the rain, with the wind slapping water in his face, and it feels better than it ever has in the past. And he’s blinded by the raindrops but even despite that, he sees her face light up in one of those bright smiles she’s never able to contain.

“I know!” she yells back before spreading her arms again. “That’s why I’m happy: because I love you, too!”

I’m a hoe for feedback in case you wanna leave any 💛

Original picture: https://www.pexels.com/photo/bunch-of-petals-on-white-surface-4041274/

[legobiwan]

could you do 18 and 100 for the trope mash up thing? (And if you want two characters, Obi-wan and Hondo?- I got a little confused with your added instructions to the trope mashup)

Circus AU / Accidentally Saving the Day (Hondo & Obi-wan)

Anon, I had to WORK for this one and even did a little research into circus history since I am woefully undereducated about the topic. I think I’ve found an interesting way of weaving these all together and giving a little bonus at the end. Stick with me here, I need to do a bit of an introduction to get this whole idea going. 

For the purposes of this AU, please assume that the Clone War and all the events surrounding it happened directly after Naboo, meaning everyone is about 10 years younger than they are in canon. Also assume that Qui-gon was not killed on Naboo, although that has little bearing on this particular story.

THIS GOT OUT OF CONTROL. I was expecting to write a fun little 1,000 word thing, not a whole AU concept. But here we are, so….uh…

We’ll see what everyone thinks? Enjoy. And good luck  :D

—-

“How are they doing?” Szimon Tesdak asked, thin, long mustache bobbing up and down at the ends.

The other man patted the Pamaradian prancer’s neck, running his fingers through the thick mane of her hair. The prancer shivered, eyes darting back and forth, hooves tapping nervously on the durasteel floor. The man known as Whisp spoke softly in the creature’s ear, the words foreign to even Szimon’s cosmopolitan ears. A few moments later, the prancer settled, nuzzling her snout into Whisp’s shoulder. 

Whisp turned to face Szimon. “They’re restless,” he said. “Fourteen hours in a cruiser is a bit much for anyone to take.”

Szimon waved the veiled criticism away with a flick of his wrist. Yes, it had been a long journey, but the payoff would - hopefully - be worth it. And they needed the credits - or whatever these people were going to pay. 

“An hour more and we’ll be there,” Szimon said with false confidence.

Whisp stood, crossing his arms tight against his chest, the black-and-crimson fabric of his worn travel tunic wrinkling with the gesture. There was a hint of beard on the young man’s chin, something that, when it grew in, would likely age him a good ten years. The man peered at Szimon with grey-blue eyes like he was trying to ace one of those vision tests at a local spaceport agency. Always looking for hidden meaning, he is. 

And sometimes he finds it. 

At least with the creatures, that had been the case. Two years Whisp had been working for Szimon and never had the older circus master figured out the man’s trick. Szimon had spent his life in the circus, from his childhood on Thybaar right up the grand days of the bright Coruscant lights to his now-ramshackle operation held together by thread, petty theft, and the occasional cashing in on favors owed. 

Szimon had seen it all - and more,  but nothing like Whisp and his ability to communicate with the creatures, like he was reading their minds. “The Whisperer,” the other members had taken to calling him. The moniker had stuck, albeit in shortened form, Whisp’s real name - whatever it had been - long forgotten.

“Remind me again why we’re flying out to the Outer Rim for a show? Seems a bit of an expense when we could just as easily round up a few smaller venues for far less hassle,” Whisp said.

“Ah, Whisp, ever the cynic,” Szimon clapped a meaty hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Don’t think of it as a hassle,” he waved a dramatic hand, as if unveiling something from a behind a curtain. “But as an expansion of our operations.”

Whisp cocked an eyebrow. “Hardly difficult seeing as our operations comprised of three planets the past month, two of which we never actually got to land on.”

Szimon snorted. Well, yes, business had been down because of the war. Szimon himself cared little for the politics of the Republic or the Separatists. A government was a government, with all its little games and corruptions, mazes of betrayal, and endless mountains of datawork. No, Szimon Tesdak would never be chained behind one of those desks. 

But many others were, shackled to unfulfilling jobs and lives, stuck in a desert of mediocrity and boredom. That was where Szimon came in. Unhappy citizens tended to breed unhappy revolts. But give them a nice circus, something to laugh at, a little magic that was absent from their day-to-day existence?

It didn’t really matter who was in power. The problems, the outcomes -they were always the same in the end. 

Still, the war had been disruptive to his business and over the past few months, the “Great Thybaarian Traveling Show” had been forced into semi-refugee status as planet after planet was devastated by the conflict between a mechanical and clone army. Circuses were part of avoiding war, not conducting it.

Szimon shook off the dark thoughts with a wide smile. “Come on now, Whisp. We’re going to make great friends on the Outer Rim. My benefactor has promised a large sum, maybe even a sponsorship if we play our cards right.”

“I thought they were pirates,” Whisp retorted, half-smile playing on his face.

Szimon made an airy gesture, chuckling. “Pirates, embezzlers, Hutts. As long as we get paid, I’ll work for the Sith themselves.”

Whisp tightened under Szimon’s arm, which was wrapped around the thin man’s shoulders. Some unreadable emotion passed over his face, a premonition of a storm. After a moment, he spoke, hesitant. 

“I suppose.”

“That’s the spirit!” Szimon exclaimed, shaking Whisp. “Come on, we have to make preparations for landing and I’m not letting Battlebuzz near those controls again.“

—–

“That was a very impressive show, my friend,” the pirate known as Hondo Ohnaka sidled up to Whisp, unceremoniously dropping into the seat next to him, tankard full of green ale. 

Whisp looked up from his own mug, half-consumed, eyeing the pirate warily. “Thank you,” he replied, adding, “I think,” after a moment’s hesitation. It never hurt to be too cautious around pirates. 

“All those acrobats, all the flips and whooshes.” Hondo made an extravagant gesture with his arm, nearly taking Whisp’s head off. “And the beautiful women dancing to such music, it shouldn’t be allowed!” he grinned, giving Whisp a knowing look. ”My men, they enjoy that - some of my women, too!” Hondo cackled, downing the entirety of his pint in one go, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“But you, my friend - with the creatures.” The pirate’s voice turned a shade serious and several parsecs more calculating. Whisp bit his lip, steeling himself to steer another drunken conversation away from this dangerous territory. “Yes, the creatures,” Hondo continued, nearly singing. “Now that was something I’ve never seen before. Most beast tamers use weapons.” The pirate made a few motions mimicking a whip. “They use fear and intimidation but you!” He pointed a finger that almost went up Whisp’s nose. “Ah, it was almost like you talked to them with your mind.”

Whisp gave a forced shrug, his pulse starting to race. He needed to stay calm. Needed to focus on the present, not his anxieties. He laughed to himself, bitter, wholly aware of the gross irony of that statement. “Just an ability I’ve had since my youth,” he said, voice flat. “Better me in the circus than those brutish weapons-wielding tamers you mentioned.” Whisp scowled. That much was the truth. Whisp couldn’t abide by their methods, couldn’t stand the way the pain and fear radiated from the abused creatures. He knew he couldn’t save them all, but if he could give a second chance to even a single Borcatu, if he could find a home for those who had been cast out -

Anger trilled at the back Whisp’s brain, a sensuous, lush melody more tempting than any of the ribald pirate ballads in the background.

Hondo beckoned at another Weequay, grabbing two pints from a serving tray, setting one in front of Whisp in an unspoken command. “Yes, your youth. Tell me about that. Your accent is polished, very posh, very Core World.” Very monied. If only, Whisp rued.

It had been too much effort to try and tame his accent, which stood out amongst Szimon’s motley crew of performers like a neon bell weed in the desert. 

Whisp took a long sip of his beverage, smacking his lips together. The new alcohol was a step higher in quality than the dredge he had been drinking before. He peered to Ohnaka on his right, wondering if he was about to be drugged, kidnapped, or worse. Oh well, he thought, drinking some more of the beverage. Might as well enjoy while I can.

“I was brought up in the Core,” Whisp recited, setting his glass down, not even needing to think about the words he had said them so many times. “My family, unfortunately, abandoned me, so I took to farming in the Mid-Rim as a means of sustaining myself. It was there I discovered I had an affinity for creatures and then did some work in healing clinics before the war broke out. The Republic Army took over all the planetary clinics so I was forced into finding…” Whisp bobbed his head, “more creative ways to apply my talents.”

“Interesting,” Hondo noted, his gaze greedy as he looked Whisp up and down. Whisp’s other hand moved to his waist. So much for enjoying. He fingered the blaster he had hidden under his red and silver vest, neatly tucked away in a shoulder holster. 

Hondo held out a hand. “I don’t mean to cause you alarm, my young friend,” he said with a laugh, sitting back in his chair, kicking both feet up on the table. “You can put your blaster away, I only want to talk business.”

Whisp’s hand tightened for a moment before he raised an open palm in a universal gesture of surrender, his brow furrowed.

“What type of business?”

“What type indeed?” Hondo hummed, rocking his feet back and forth in time to the bawdy, clangorous music. Somewhere on the other side of the room, Tergallian and Lopisa had gotten into a knife-throwing contest with some of the pirates. Whisp had a feeling the Weequay had bet on it and that the pirates were about to lose their shirts, pants, shoes, and who knew what else in the deal. Might have to make a quick getaway if there’s enough of a ruckus, Whisp thought, eyeing the locations of the exits and the best strategies to get there without being shot. 

Again, he winced. 

“Oh, you won’t make it out, I promise” Hondo commented, his expression still jovial. “All the exits are under full guard and I guarantee there’s no other way out unless it’s by my command.” He pressed a finger into the table, all traces of humor gone from his voice. “Unless,” he began after a moment, “you are a Jedi.”

Whisp was off his stool in an instant, blaster in hand. Not wanting a direct confrontation, he pointed it towards the ground, the table hiding the weapon from the view of most of the other pirates and circus members. Off in the corner, Szimon’s eyes grew wide as he made a series of furious movements in Whisp’s driection.

“I’m fine,” Whisp signed back in the strange language of gestures known only to those in this particular circus, an easy way to communicate on stage while looking artistic and also a not bad method of either avoiding trouble or sometimes finding it - if their pockets and stomachs were empty enough.

Hondo clasped his hands behind his head, looking unconcerned. “I did not mean to upset you,” he said, lips quirking upwards as if he had just figured out some baffling puzzle. “Only warn you about my security system. But let us not talk of such things, as they disturb you and as my dear mother always said - “ Hondo raised a finger. “Son! You catch more apidactyls with honey. And if that doesn’t work, you can still catch them with a blaster.”

Not worth the fight. Not even sure I’d win this fight, Whisp sighed inwardly. Knowing when he was outmatched, or at least when to choose his battles, Whisp retook his seat with a muttered curse. 

“Fine, then. What do you want from me?”

Hondo smiled. “Ah, now we talk business,” he shrugged. “Nothing much, my friend. And nothing - mostly - to do with your little traveling show. But the circus isn’t going to pay you forever and a man of your many talents - ” Hondo leaned forward, putting both forearms on the table. “Could fetch a pretty hefty payday if he found himself aligned with the right people.”

Whisp’s eyebrows rose. “Are you offering me a job?”

Hondo raised both arms. “Maybe, if you are willing to - “

“Hondo!” A large, burly man came barreling into the room. At once, the music stopped with a zippered rip of a holodisc jarred from its needle, pirates and circus members alike turning to the wide-eyed, heaving pirate. 

“We got trouble out there!”

Immediately, Hondo came to his feet, blaster in hand. “What kind of trouble?”

“I think it’s the Republic! Looks like them, at least. They’re tryin’ a fall back to our compound!”

“We’ll see about that,” Hondo growled, raising his weapon. “No one takes over Hondo Ohnaka’s compound without my permission!”

—-

Blaster fire rang out from all sides, a multicolored lattice of deadly energy. To Whisp’s surprise, Hondo was near the vanguard of the pirates, shooting at the incoming wave of bright, white uniforms with terrifying precision. The pirates were good, Whisp had to give them that, the transition from unruly drunkards to semi-disciplined guerrilla fighters more seamless than Whisp thought possible. 

“Any ideas?” Szimon asked next to him, the pair huddled behind a large boulder, just out of range of the real fighting. Whisp knew Szimon didn’t care one way or another about who won this particular battle - one of thousands Szimon had witnessed over the years. But their ship - their livelihood and home, not to mention only asset - lay just beyond the front line of what Whisp was pretty sure were the infamous clones. If their ship was damaged, or, even worse, destroyed - they were all done for. 

Whisp took in the scene, applying his natural affinity for tactics that had been first discovered early in his tenure with Szimon, an awkward encounter with the Ruuthian mafia, a highly successful performance, and a jar of…requisitioned heeble eggs belonging to Ruuthian mob boss. It had been his quick thinking that had gotten them out of that mess, a plan so crazy it couldn’t do anything but work. From that point on, Whisp had earned the nickname, “The General,” much to his dismay.

Carefully, Whisp extended his senses, not only his eyes and ears but his other senses, the ones he kept locked away from everyone else - everyone else except his creatures. The creatures didn’t care what his status or title was, if he had succeeded or not, if he occasionally broke some moral law that had been branded into his mind as a child. The creatures didn’t judge - they had never judged and found him wanting.

It wasn’t good. For all of Hondo’s firepower, they were still in the bottom of a cereal bowl in the sandy crevasse, the clone troopers above holding higher ground as they advanced on the compound. It didn’t escape Whisp’s notice that the troopers’ blaster bolts were consistently going wide, aimed to injure or impede, but not kill. Some strange long-buried instinct rose in Whisp’s chest as he watched the men, sensing their similarities, down to a genetic level. Was he was supposed to be on their side? Supposed to be fighting with them, supposed to -

An explosion rocked the compound, bringing down metal, stone, and all kinds of debris on the pirates. Hondo barked out more orders, a line of men running to set up what looked like a short-range missile while the rest of the pirates resumed their firefight. 

I’m supposed to be getting us out alive, Whisp fumed at himself. No more distractions. Szimon’s face was covered in dust and sand and for a moment Whisp almost laughed. The circus master looked the spitting image of the Great Lady Devonna in her full makeup. 

“Are you alright, Szimon?” Whisp asked, helping the other man to a seat. 

“I’ve seen worse,” he growled, swiping debris from tassled gold epaulettes perched on bright red shoulders like two Felucian retrine sparrows. “Just do something, Whisp, I’m not getting any younger here.”

Right. Whisp looked again at the fight, the positioning of the men, their ship. The pirates weren’t going to win an all-out firefight, not like this and Whisp had to assume there would be reinforcements coming sooner than later. It was now or…

Whisp frowned. They could wait for the clones to take over the compound and beg for lenience. But knowing the Republic, they’d probably confiscate the ship. And send them to prison. Besides, Whisp’s own presence might raise too many uncomfortable questions, ones he had no desire whatsoever to revisit.

So much for that idea, he rued, while surveying the scene. The clones were all faced towards the fighting, Hondo’s forces feisty enough to keep them fully engaged. There weren’t that many of them, not a full battalion, for certain, which meant it was likely Szimon’s ship was wholly unguarded and not even considered a threat, as it had no visible weaponry. If he could just…

Whisp closed his eyes, feeling for the familiar energies, the outlines of the creatures he cared for, from the smallest snitmouse to the largest morak. Yes, he thought, connecting his mind with the stampede creatures. They would never see it coming. 

A moment later the earth rumbled, the fighting slowing to a small drizzle of blaster fire as the line of clones turned to the oncoming dust storm that hid the three moraks, now prodded on by Whisp, feeding off of his repressed frustration and anger with the representatives of the institution that had driven him to this life in the first place. Of the people who were trying, again, to deprive him of a home, of a place where he belonged.

Unaware the opaque cloud hid anything living, no less animals whose shells repelled most blaster fire - a well-kept secret known not even in the fancy universities on Coruscant - the clones fired to no avail as the moraks descended, sending bodies flying in every direction with desperate shrieks, the remainder of the forces too startled to return fire efficiently. Three bloody minutes later, the remaining clones ran, retreating, leaving the bodies of their fallen comrades as the only evidence of the failed ambush. 

Cheers rose the pirates as they lifted their weapons in glee, somehow manifesting mugs of ale in their hands only a scant minute after they had been involved in a full-bore battle. Whisp slowly climbed from behind the rock, pulling Szimon up with him. The Thybaarian looked at Whisp as if it was the first time he had ever seen him. 

“Was that you?” he asked, eyes trying to pierce through years of layers, of hidden secrets that were the only true skin of the man known as Whisp.

Whisp laughed, uncomfortable. “What? No, I mean - “ 

Szimon shook his head, still dazed. “I always had my suspicions, you know. Not just the creatures, although I’ll grant you that’s one hell of a trick.” He paused, his expression unreadable. “I figured there was some reason you weren’t up with them in that fancy tower, figured it was none of my business, but now - “ Szimon’s eyes turned calculating. “This isn’t just some parlor trick, is it, it’s - “

Whisp backed away, palms splayed in front of him, as if trying to stop the words from entering his space. “No, I’m not. I - “ he looked around, wild, feeling just like one of his creatures, feral and trapped. He was going to lose his home again, once they found out, it was all going to be over. “I never - “ Something snapped, then crackled with inside of Whisp, like the breaking of an invisible, electric bone, sparking flying everywhere.

“I never was one, okay!” he yelled, stomping his foot. “Never was, never will be! That man - that child - died over ten years ago. This -” Whisp gestured angrily at himself. “Is what I am. Nothing. More.”

They had been certain leave Whisp with that message. Nothing more. Just nothing.

“A fascinating story, my young friend,” a low, baritone voice intoned from behind them. “I would be curious to hear more of it.”

Whisp spun around. The man was - there was no other word for it - regal, imperious, commanding the attention of every being in the valley, as he moved towards Whisp and Szimon, long brown cape billowing in the wind, deep violet outfit a perfect fit on his broad chest. Hondo’s troops paused mid-swig, ale running down their necks, and even Hondo himself craned his head forward to get a better look at the newcomer. 

Fifty blaster rifles rose at once.

The man stopped, surveying the ends of the weapons pointed at him with a disaffected gaze. The compound held its breath, sinews tightening around triggers as an unworldly clarity came over the canyon, as if each atom, each sound wave could be made manifest as a physical, tangible reality. And then the man smirked, wholly unconcerned with his vast disadvantage in the situation as the world returned to its customary blur. Whisp and the others exhaled, noisy phlegm crackling up their lungs, dust tingling in their throats.

The stranger took an unhurried step forward raising one hand. 

“You may lower your weapons,” he addressed the pirates, voice betraying nothing but absolute confidence. It occurred to Whisp then that the man had never been at any disadvantage at all. “I intend no harm,” he added in his deep, patrician voice.

Hondo took an equal, ambling step forward, hands clasped behind his back. He circled the newcomer, a hound sniffing for possible quarry, gazing him up and down, as if he were a incoming shipment of contraband. Then, after a moment, Hondo gave a nod, and the blasters summarily disappeared. 

“My, my we are popular today,” the pirate began amiably. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Mister…” Hondo gestured at the other man in question.

“I am here for three reasons,” the stranger announced, ignoring Hondo’s unspoken inquiry. “The first was unwelcome, but unsurprising. My ships were caught unaware, en route from a trade post in the Outer Rim to Jybosti. I carry the identification cards and manifest if you desire proof of my claim. The Republic forced our hand, causing us to land here and engage in an unwanted ground battle which regrettably involved your forces.” The man turned to Hondo, giving an apologetic gesture. Hondo answered with cool regard, his skepticism echoing through the enclosure. Whisp had to agree. No one just happened to go by a place like Florrum without reason. Especially someone like this. 

Still, it wasn’t the stranger that had been one shooting at them. Maybe he was telling the truth. Or at least a part of it.

“Secondly,” the man continued, opening his arms, “I would like to thank you all for, how shall I say - “ He paused for dramatic effect, lifting his chin slightly. Whoever this man was, he knew how to hold a crowd, perhaps even better than Szimon. “Saving the day, however unexpected your heroics may have been.” 

“Yeah, heroes!” One of the pirates bellowed, raising both his blaster and ale mug, several others echoing his enthusiasm with chants of “Heroes!” which quickly devolved into far less elevated rhetoric.

“And thirdly?” Hondo asked, after the raucous had died down. 

“Thirdly,” the man drawled, turning his full attention on Whisp. “I would like to know further details regarding this young man’s story.”

Whisp’s eyes went wide as he took an involuntary step back. “There’s not much more to tell, I’m afraid,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. The words were automatic, a defense mechanism so perfectly tuned, it was nearly instinct. But the strange pressure that had been growing at the back of Whisp’s brain spiked with the lie, leaving a dark, velvet shadow in its wake, something immensely powerful yet a balm to his frayed emotions. It was something…

Whisp gasped, eyes locking with the other man. 

It was something familiar. 

The stranger smiled, all edges as he clasped his hands behind his back, addressing Szimon. “This young man is in your employ?” he asked, brusque, nodding towards Whisp. 

Szimon straightened his jacket and his posture, already sensing a deal in the making as he slipped into tell-tale ringmaster persona. “Yes, sir, best creature tamer I’ve ever seen.”

“Interesting,” the man commented, drawing out the word. “And if he were to leave your employ, how would that affect your operations?”

“Well, I daresay it would be quite the inconvenience,” Szimon began, his confidence building as he fell into the familiar patter of a sales pitch. Whisp barely heard the words, disbelief rising like an angry, red ocean. Would Szimon really do this to him? Now? After everything? 

“…so you see, unless I would be suitably compensated for my losses…”

The grey-haired man leaned forward and whispered something in Szimon’s ear. Szimon’s eyes went moon-wide, his mouth dropping open, words tripping from his mouth. 

“I trust that would be satisfactory?” the man asked.

“I - ah - “ Szimon sent a half-apologetic glance over to Whisp, eyes gleaming with barely-contained avarice. “I think that would be more than fair.”

“Excellent,” the man articulated, ignoring Szimon’s half-gasped ‘thank yous,’ now directing his full attention back to Whisp, drawing himself up to full height. “And you, who are about to enter my employ. What is your name?”

So that was it. No offer, not even a perfunctory question, Whisp’s future once again dictated by the whims of others. Whisp clenched his teeth agains the injustice of his very existence. “Whisp,” he answered, barely keeping the venom from his voice, fists tightening into balls, nails digging into his palms. 

“Your real name,” the man growled. Behind him, Szimon gaped, now looking on with unabashed curiosity, a faint patina of guilt oozing from his sweat-beaded forehead.

Long-buried memories, banished ghosts relegated to an afterlife he had not yet experienced rose in Whisp. He squeezed his eyes shut against the assault of emotions, of the sharp knives of betrayal, the deep pools of loss that threatened to overwhelm him. Had it been so long since he had uttered his own name?

Forcing a noisy breath between his teeth, he steeled himself, meeting the icy gaze of the other man, who considered him with keen, intense interest. 

“My name is Obi-wan Kenobi.”

For a brief second, the Force surged in a strange, dark elation as the stranger’s eyes glimmered with satisfaction. 

“And I am Yan Dooku of Serenno. Come, Obi-wan,” he said, putting an arm around Whisp’s shoulders, leading him away from the confused and quiet scene of pirates, of the doe-eyed stares of what had - for a brief, happy moment - been his family. 

From one family to the next, always a visitor. First the Jedi and Qui-gon Jinn, then Bandomeer. Then clinics, then circuses, and now this. 

With Dooku.

Something settled in Obi-wan’s gut, not unpleasant. For the first time in years, he allowed himself to open to the Force, wholly and without constraint. This felt right, more right than anything else had in Obi-wan’s life. 

“Come,” Dooku repeated, voice warming ever so slightly. “We have much to do.”

[holy-honeybees]

Snowdrift

AO3

Rating: T+ (for swearing)

Summary: Three friends and  their dog get lost in a snowstorm while investigating the paranormal. Amidst swirling flurries of white, some lose their way and get lost in their memories, others lose sight of their friends and loved ones, and an unforgiving winter quickly fills in the footprints one would follow to get back home.

A/N: I started this back in November but sadly never finished the work. I was thinking of holding off till it started to snow again, but figured now was as good a time as any to try and finish this.The title is taken from Snail's House song "[snowdrift]" which you can check out here!

The last bit of fluff before the storm!

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter One

Chapter Four

Mystery woke slowly the next morning to the sounds of hushed conversation, wriggling out from under Vivi’s arm as the heaviest sleeper of the group continued to snore away. He stretched out his hind legs, giving himself a good shake before blearily regarding the two young men deep in conversation. It would figure that the ghost, who technically didn’t need sleep, and the insomniac, who pretended that he didn’t need sleep, would be the first two up. The disguised kitsune mused momentarily over who had been the first to rise before discarding the train of thought as largely pointless at this ungodly hour of the morning. Instead, he trotted over to the rear doors of the van and, having long ago discarded all pretense of being a semi-normal dog, gripped the handle in his teeth and opened the door to the outside world.

“Mystery, wait—” The warning came too late however, and a sudden gust of wind wrenched the door out of his grip, tumbling him headfirst into a snowdrift as he lost his balance. The kitsune struggled for a moment to right himself, only to find he was buried almost up to his haunches in the snow. It would quickly be approaching Vivi’s knees, a height that Mystery was quite familiar with, having spent most of the human’s lifespan at the same level. The cold didn’t bother him much, with his thick fur coat providing protection from the freezing temperatures, but the prospect of having to hop through the snow was simply embarrassing. He had been just about to shift to his natural state when a large hand grasped him by his scruff and hoisted him back into the van, pulling the door shut behind him. Back on solid ground, Mystery quickly shook the loose snow from his pelt. He could see Arthur shivering in the corner, the icy blast of air he’d unintentionally let inside severe enough to even wake Vivi from her slumber. The girl mumbled sleepily and rubbed at her eyes.

“Good morning,” the kitsune deadpanned. Vivi glared at him, though the expression lost some of its heat by the way she was squinting as her eyes adjusted to daylight.

“Arthur and I were just talking about the situation outside,” Lewis said.

“The situation?” Vivi mumbled, putting forth a valiant effort to stay awake.

“The snow hasn’t let up at all,” the ghost said, “In fact, the van’s almost buried up to its wheel wells.”

“According to the radar, it doesn’t look like it’s going to be stopping anytime soon either,” the mechanic explained, gesturing to his laptop screen as he turned it to face the others. There was a large patch of icy blue stationary in the middle of the screen.

“Unless the satellite image froze again…I think the weather is starting to mess with the van’s internet connection,” Arthur muttered.

“So we’re snowed in?” Mystery surmised. Lewis and Arthur shared a look before nodding their heads.

“We were discussing possible solutions before you guys got up. With the snow so deep, the van won’t budge.”

“I could make the van ‘go ghost’ to see if we can get past the snow that way, but, well…” Lewis spared a glance to the mechanic who’d paled at the reminder of the monstrous purple semi-truck.

“It’s not the best idea,” the ghost concluded, “And the nearest town is still miles away, too far to walk,”

“Why don’t we just stay here?” Vivi suggested, already settling back into the blankets on the floor.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Arthur frowned.

“Not for forever, just until we figure out a solution we can all agree on or until we become unstuck. We’ve got plenty of supplies,” Vivi yawned. Mystery thought it must be exhausting being so optimistic and loved the young woman all the more for it.

“I’m not sure hot cocoa counts as ‘supplies’,” Arthur said, “but we do have enough food for at least a couple more days.”

“What about your ghost hunt though? You were so excited to go,” Lewis said.

“I’m excited to spend time with you dorks,” Vivi snorted, “Besides, yesterday was fun. We can teach you how to make a snowman now that you’ve mastered snow angels.” The specter huffed a fond-sounding laugh.

“I suppose that settles it then,” he said, Arthur nodding in agreement. The three turned to look at Mystery for his acquiescence.

“I have missed the snow,” the dog conceded.

“Good,” Vivi mumbled sleepily, her eyes already drifting shut again, “We’ll try to head out later today if the snow melts some. Otherwise, we stay until tomorrow. Just think of it…as a…snow day…” And the blue-haired girl was asleep once more, snoring away as if she’d never been disturbed.

“I better let my parents know about the delay. As if my dad wasn’t already worried enough …” Lewis sighed, shaking his head, “Would it be okay if I borrowed your laptop again, Arthur?”

“Sure, for as much good as it will do you with this crappy internet connection,” the mechanic shrugged, “The radar image either keeps freezing up or there’s a particularly stubborn snow cloud that’s decided to park itself right over top of us. I’ll check to see if I can get a better signal after another cup of coffee.” Lewis narrowed his eyes at his friend.

“What? The instant stuff isn’t that bad,” Arthur joked weakly.

“Yes it is,” Lewis replied, “And it’s not so much the quality of it that I’m worried about but rather the quantity of how much you drink.”

“Oh, come on! This will just be my—”

“Fourth cup,” Lewis interrupted, giving the mechanic a withering look, “I’ve been counting.” Arthur squawked in indignation, and Mystery barked out a brief laugh before turning back to the rear doors, leaving the two young men to squabble over what an acceptable caffeine intake should be for the jittery mechanic.

“Uh, Mystery? Looking to do a repeat performance from earlier?” Lewis said.

“I have to go outside,” the kitsune replied.

“W-Why, is there some-something out there?” Arthur asked in alarm.

“No, I just have to…” Mystery put his ears back in embarrassment, “Go.” There was a moment of silence in the van before the ghost and the mechanic broke into a fit of laughter. Vivi mumbled in her sleep and turned to her other side.

“Oh man,” Arthur said, wiping at his eyes, “Sometimes I forget you’re still kind of a dog.”

“Here, let me get the door for you,” Lewis offered. The kitsune grumbled in annoyance at the two young men’s antics. It appeared they weren’t just children in Mystery’s eyes after all. With Lewis propping the door open, the dog leapt from the van gracefully, landing in the snow in his kitsune-form so as to not get stuck again, his six tails lashing about in the wind. To his dismay, he saw that the indentation from where he’d landed minutes earlier had already begun to fill in, quickly losing its definition as the snow continued to pile on the ground. He would be very surprised if the Mystery Skulls managed to leave their temporary resting spot today.

“Just let us know when you’re ready to come inside, okay?” Lewis said. Mystery gave him a curt nod before trotting away through the snow to find some privacy, hearing the door of the van click shut behind him as he made for the tree line in the distance.

The kitsune truly had missed the snow, and it had been decades since he’d had a proper winter that reminded him of home. He admired the way his breath fogged around his snout in short bursts, thinking of centuries worth of winters spent in Japan. He wondered if he was growing old and senile, reminiscing the way he was, or if it was just his softer side showing. Oh, how the other yōkai would laugh if they could see you now, Mystery mused, passing between barren trees with snow-laden branches. A lot had changed since he’d first met Vivi’s ancestor and been subsequently defeated by her. He was no longer the feared and respected fox spirit he once was. But it was a change for the better, if for the company alone, the three young humans he’d come to think of as his pups. Mystery knew he would go to great lengths to protect them, having failed to do so before. The world was a dangerous place, something Mystery, as one of the dangerous things in it, was well aware of. He had thought that by playing the role of the unassuming mascot he’d been protecting them, but it had nearly cost him everything. The kitsune had chosen to keep silent when he knew they were walking into danger. He thought he’d had everything under control, that if it became absolutely necessary to intervene, he would be fast enough.

He was wrong.

Mystery had wondered if the cave would be the end of his little pack. By some miracle, fate had brought them back together though and allowed for reconciliation, which was more than he could have hoped for. Now, he would give his six tails just to keep his pups safe. As far away as he was, the kitsune could still sense them clearly, would be able to sniff out their souls from miles away if he had to. The burning, electric purple scent of Lewis, so different now from his once muted yet strong mulberry color. The familiar blue that was comfort, love, home, Vivi, the ephemeral sparks of her magic potential flickering through the blue like frost on a window pane. Arthur’s sunshiny yellow pulsing like a beacon. Even as the mechanic had healed in body and mind after being possessed, the damage done would leave Arthur vulnerable for the rest of his life, unaware that his soul was broadcasting an enticing signal to the supernatural.

Mystery thought back to the day before uneasily. Arthur had been so sure he’d seen…something in the road. Mystery had checked then to see if there was anything out there that could pose a threat to his pups and had come up empty, but perhaps the jumpy mechanic’s worried nature was beginning to rub off on him. Over-confidence had cost him dearly in the past, and it was a lesson the kitsune had taken to heart. Mystery pushed the boundaries of his senses to their limits, concentrating hard until he was confident he had encompassed a wide enough radius around their present location for his extrasensory search. Like last time though, he came up empty. There was the purple, yellow, and blue, his own strong red scent, but not another living thing for miles, and no supernatural entity he could detect waiting in the shadows. Besides the colors he was so familiar with, everything was as tasteless, scentless, and colorless as the snow Mystery waded through. Satisfied with his thorough search, the kitsune shook himself free of his troubled thoughts along with the fine layer of snow that had gathered on his pelt. He took care of his business before heading back towards the van and the blended colors of the souls he loved so well. They’re safe this time, he told himself, even as the feeling of being watched prickled at his skin and caused the fur along his back to stand on end.

---

As Mystery had predicted, the Mystery Skulls were not to depart that day, everyone preparing to spend another night on the floor of the van instead. The snow continued to fall, adding further inches to the foot or so already on the ground. The wind had picked up as well, now violently swirling outside. As the snowstorm increased in intensity, so too did Mystery’s feelings of unease. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched despite knowing that they were the only ones out here. The dog eyed the door to the van warily, and though nothing had passed beyond the rear windows except for more falling snow, Mystery still couldn’t force himself to relax. Had he any less self-control, he might have even let out a whine.

An unexpected, hesitant touch to the back of his head startled the dog badly, causing him to leap to his feet. The hand quickly withdrew as Mystery whipped around to look at the source of the touch, only to see Arthur staring back, eyes wide with panic. The kitsune couldn’t fault the young man for being afraid of him, particularly when Mystery had been the source of the mechanic’s impromptu amputation, but it still hurt whenever Arthur jumped at his presence or eyed him warily. This had all been so much easier before he’d come clean about the truth of his existence, when he could just ignore what he’d done, what he was. The kitsune wondered if he had kept his secrets to protect himself from their fear and rejection as much as he’d done so to protect the Mystery Skulls themselves. Arthur still raised his hand though and, extending it slowly, bridged the gap between them. The mechanic patted his head and Mystery did his best to ignore the tremors he felt running through the young man’s hand as he leaned into the touch.

“Y-You okay, pal?” Arthur asked in a quiet voice, “You seem kind of tense.”

“Just eager to get going again,” the fox spirit reassured as the mechanic continued to pet him, “Tired of being cooped up in the back of the van for so long.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but Mystery didn’t want to reveal the true cause of his unease, certain it would further unnerve Arthur. Vivi and Lewis were in the opposite corner of the van, chatting amicably as Vivi composed an email to send off to her parents while they visited her Granny Yukino in Japan. The ghost and the girl were blissfully ignorant of the troubled conversation he and Arthur were having. Vivi’s enthusiasm for their so-called “snow day” had yet to wane, and Lewis was more than happy to just go along for the ride. Mystery would prefer to keep it that way rather than worrying his pups any more than he already had. Arthur continued to stroke his fur as Vivi concluded her email and got up to pass the laptop back to the mechanic. He paused to give a final scratch behind Mystery’s ears, just the way the dog liked, before receiving his laptop with both hands. Mystery would have loved for the petting to continue, childish comfort as it may have been, it had helped settle him significantly. There was no one out there, no danger to his family. Just the wicked winds of winter howling outside. Accepting that, he contented himself to just lay down and listen as his humans talked.

“Any word on how your Granny is doing?” Arthur asked.

“She’s still recovering from her fall, but she’s tough as nails,” Vivi replied proudly, “Mom and dad are just there to make sure she doesn’t overdo it on her own. She has a hard time just taking it easy.”

“Still, I’m sorry about the timing, it’s not fun being on your own for the holidays.”

“It’s alright, I’ve got you guys to keep me company!” Vivi said, unwaveringly cheerful, “Besides, me and Mystery are this close to cracking the secret to my mom’s fried chicken recipe. It has to be in the dredging. I think we’ll have it perfected just in time for dinner on Christmas Eve! It won’t be so different from any other year that way, I just won’t have to fight my dad for the last drumstick.”

“I’m looking forwards to being able to cook Christmas dinner for my family again,” Lewis said, “It’s one of the few days the restaurant is closed, so it’s nice to see mom and dad relax and put their feet up for once. Plus, I make a mean lasagna.”

“Heh, I think Uncle Lance gave up on cooking for Christmas after that year he tried to do one of those beer can turkey recipes. Hell, the fire chief might’ve expressly forbidden it. I think we’re doing Chinese takeout again this year.”

“At least orange chicken is something normal to eat…” Vivi teased.

“Hey, don’t bring Surf’s Up Pizza into this!”

“It’s so nice to be able to see the restaurant decorated with poinsettias again,” Lewis said distractedly. He had a wistful expression on his skull, seemingly unaware that he’d even spoken aloud until he noticed Vivi and Arthur staring at him intently, their playful argument abandoned.

“Mom always decorates the restaurant with poinsettias around Christmas. I…I never thought I’d get to see it like that again,” Lewis confessed. Vivi smiled at the ghost warmly, giving his arm a little squeeze before she turned her attention to their other friend.

“What about you, Artie? Lance do much decorating at home?” She asked.

“I don’t think Uncle Lance is real big on Christmas. The only Christmas movie he’ll even watch is Die Hard. I think he only decorates ‘cause he knows I like it,” Arthur began, “Growing up with my dad though…we were on the road pretty often and spent a lot of nights in the car, even on Christmas. Not a whole lot of room for a tree in there, but he’d always make sure to get one of those little tree-shaped air fresheners to hang from the rearview mirror. We’d set our presents up on the dashboard under it.”

“You don’t talk about him a whole lot,” Lewis said.

“Y-Yeah, I try not to think about it too much,” Arthur replied, making an attempt at a casual shrug, “But…ever since it started snowing, it’s been hard not to think about it. I haven’t seen snow since I came to live with Uncle Lance, so I guess it’s just bringing up old memories.” The mechanic rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly, seemingly caught off-guard by his own admission. Mystery nosed tentatively at Arthur’s hand and was rewarded with a few more pats to the head and a small smile from the young man. Over the tops of his glasses, the kitsune could see Vivi and Lewis exchange concerned glances.

“Well, I don’t have Die Hard with me, but how about a movie?” Vivi suggested, eager to offer a distraction to try and lift their spirits. Without waiting for a response, she pulled the bag she’d packed for the trip into her lap, digging through it fervently.

“Duet’s not real big on commercial, non-secular holidays. So far, The Tome Tomb has remained unspoiled by those tacky Christmas stations you hear in most stores this time of year. I’m actually not sick of Christmas yet,” Vivi said as she rummaged, “Aha! Here it is, the best Christmas movie of all time!” She displayed the DVD case to the others with a flourish. Mystery perked up as he saw the familiar title.

“A Nightmare Before Christmas?” Arthur said, his smile now returning in earnest, “That would be your favorite.”

“I watch it every year with Mystery! Things have been so hectic lately, I haven’t had a chance yet though. What do you guys think?”

“So long as I don’t have to listen to ‘Feliz Navidad’ for the rest of our road trip, I’m happy,” Lewis replied.

“We should still have enough charge left for a movie,” Arthur said, handing his laptop back to Vivi. It was all the encouragement she needed, and with a whoop of excitement, the young woman quickly popped open the CD drive and inserted the disc. They all crowded in front of the small screen, glum mood from moments earlier all but forgotten. Vivi wasted no time in piling the blankets on top of her friends, making sure they were all sufficiently cozy before finally pressing play. Mystery curled up on Vivi’s lap as the movie began, his chin resting on Arthur’s knee as the mechanic resumed stroking his fur. The four of them chattered happily about plans for the holidays and the upcoming year, joking and laughing as the DVD played. Eventually they lapsed into a comfortable silence and began to doze before the movie even finished. As usual, Vivi was the first to nod off, though she was quickly followed by Arthur to Mystery’s surprise. Lewis, seeing them fast asleep, bade the kitsune a quiet good night as the black coffin he rested in materialized in the back of the van, disappearing just as quickly once its occupant was inside. With all of his pups resting for the night, Mystery surveyed the warm scene he’d found himself a part of. Arthur finally looked relaxed, a bit of drool dotting the corner of his mouth, and Vivi had cocooned herself entirely in blankets, except for an arm that had been flung around the mechanic’s waist in her sleep. Mystery chuckled fondly before he spared a final glance out the window, still seeing nothing but snowflakes flicker past the glass. Just as the credits began to roll, he finally curled up in the blankets at Vivi’s side and joined the others in sleep.

Outside, something colorless as snow stood poised to strike.

[moeruhoshi]

Princess x Dragon headcanon bc what else do I do with my life?

His father warned him of humans, beasts who would lure you in with their fake smiles and kind words if given a chance to do so. That their hugs were filled as an opportunity for them to stab an unsuspecting creature in the back. There were tales of the dark ages, when humans and dragons fought, allies with inherited magic turning their back on their masters to side with their native race. Gone into hiding after the Dragon King Festival had ended, their lives spent apart for over four hundred years.

Natsu liked to explore, away from home and from the prying eyes of his cousin, yearning to see the world outside of their marked coven. He snuck away whenever his parents had gone hunting, returning with just enough time left to seem as though he’d been brawling with Gajeel all day. He never went too far, flying quick and low into the neighboring woods, strolling in a similar but smaller dragon form. He liked the different scents floating in the air, finding flowers, not near his home, fruits he’d never tasted before, showing down a wolf to prove himself as the alpha. He was careful, never near a village, never near a path he knew the humans traveled. If there was ever any trouble, he was off in a flash, never daring to look back if there were humans who’d be out for his scales. Pelts of war, his father would say.

On this particular day, he made his way to a lake he had heard elders talking about, one that sparkled brighter than the sun under a full moon. It was risky to stay away from his home at night, but Igneel and Grandine had gone for elk beyond the mountains so it wouldn’t have been till the next weekend they’d come home. Natsu had an affinity for the more shiny things in life, he was a dragon, after all, his tail swishing just thinking about the glittered water. He flew, hidden above the clouds and down under the large treetops, no town or village close enough to be on his radar. He happily trotted through the empty woods, curling into a comfortable ball once he reached the water's edge. There was still time before the sun would set, the dragon letting his eyes flutter shut, napping while he waited for the wonder to appear.

It was light, the sound of her voice as she hummed, stirring his more than sensitive senses. He was cautious, opening one eye to see a girl on the other side of the lake. The clouds were now a mix of purples and oranges, sun almost out of sight. Her toes waded in the water, eyes glued to the rippling surface; she hadn’t noticed him yet. He stayed still, in the dark, probably looking like a rock to her. Women, his father told him, were the most vicious of their kind. They could fake a smile through any pain, used it to gain their wants and needs, to hide their malice as they took your life. Kindness so ripe only to bitter the tongue with their hidden lies if one was foolish enough to take a bite.

He was scared, sure, swore he wouldn’t take his eye off her. But he wouldn’t wait a month and risk coming back here just because a girl had found her way into these thick woods. It was strange seeing her, dressed in fine silk and embroidery, no guard by her side to acknowledge her status as a lady or royal. His ears tuned in to the forest around them; no one else around for miles.

She sat in a small patch of wildflowers, twisting them into a crown to wear, song still vibrating lightly as she placed it atop her head. She whispered for her mother as she looked towards the sky, the moon beginning its cycle. Her finger traced and connected the constellations, Natsu following her movements as she did so. He knew them well, was taught them by way of navigating his home below the mighty Draco if he ever got lost.

He flinched as she suddenly wept, unsure of how or why she would be, curious as to why such a beast seemed so frail. For a moment, he felt drawn to her side, to help her, because maybe she was lost. These were very dense woods that lacked any safe berry bushes to eat from, and territorial animals were only a wrong path away. He felt a whine build in his throat, unsure of what to do, instead choosing to merely watch as the moon came above the lake as his elders said it would. Its light reflected brightly against the surface of the water, almost blinding when it first appeared. It lit up whatever lied underneath, hidden crystals or bioluminescent algae, that made the water glow a truly auspicious hue. He smiled, for this was the wonder he was genuinely excited to see, reigning in his happiness before his tail began to wag.

She smiled as well as it lit up, gracefully wiping her tears with a handkerchief, stepping further into the shallow water to observe up close. He flinched as the sound of a twig breaking nearby stole his attention, eyes darting to the line of the trees northwest of his location. Eyes well adjusted for the dark landed on an older, mean looking wolf snarling upon sight of the girl. She didn’t notice, too busy humming and twirling on the shore, stuck momentarily in her own world. Panic rose in his chest as the wolf neared her, slowly stalking its prey, teeth sharp and certainly making an aim for the neck she displayed without much of a thought. He kept to his feet, breath rapid as he tried to hurry his decision. She was human, humans were evil, so he shouldn’t interfere with nature taking its course. But she was lovely. Even from afar he knew her beauty was one no dragon back on Tenrou could match. And she was sad, the tears that spilled from her eyes beckoned him to aid her, gripped his heart and forced him to his knees. The human had wormed her way inside him like an infection caught in the wind. The warnings his father gave him had been right, humans were dangerous beings.

He flashed into his more humanistic form, desperate to move as the wolf reared its pounce. She caught sight of the wild mutt, body still as a faint gasp left her lips. Fire boosted from his feet as he shot across the water, rearing his fist as it attempted its kill. He snarled as the animal fell to the ground, challenging it with a thick growl. Natsu’s scales and fire crawled up his skin, scaring the savage thing into submission with its tail between his legs.

The dragon huffed as he calmed his aura, cautious as the breath of the girl behind him pulled him away from his sudden anger. He was slow to face her, dread filling the pit of his stomach as he met her shaking eyes. Natsu watched her chest heave, hands clasped tightly as she held them close to her. He wanted to run, knew he should run away from the human who he was sure would try to kill him.

They stared at each other for quite some time, the lake illuminating each other’s features, either too scared to speak. The dragon felt clammy, feeling hot when he’d never so much as broken a sweat under the cape of his flames. Her eyes were doe and kind, full and a deep shade of brown. Her scent wafted in the wind, sweet, inviting, and warm. Natsu felt his scales bristle at his attraction for the human, Igneel’s words suddenly at the back of his mind.

“Thank you...” He gulped as she began crying again, the gravity of the situation quickly falling to her shoulders. His hands moved without thought, wiping the tears he so strangely despised.

“Go home, it’s not safe out here,” He mumbled, still holding her cheeks, impressed by their softness.

“But...the wolves...” She blushed as he toyed with her, serious eyes seemingly taking all that he could of her in.

“I’ll take care of them,” An instinct bubbled in his chest as he let her go, somehow sick at the idea of allowing her to leave.

Natsu paced in annoyingly rapid circles, his cousin near ready to knock him on his ass. It had been almost a week since his encounter with the human girl, his experience unlike the tales the ancestors had spun. He feared this is what they warned him of, their control powerful enough to fill his mind with constant thoughts of themselves. His nose tracked her faint scent, hundreds of miles away but it followed him like a ghost. Gajeel found himself a bit worried when the flame brain kept mumbling to himself and hadn’t bothered to fight him since the night he snuck off.

“Alright,” The metal dragon grunted as he dragged the shorter boy off into the woods. “The hell is going on with you?”

“I can’t say,” He frowned, ignoring the deep glare the other sported.

“I’ll go tell the others you sneak off the island all the time, so fess up Salamander. You’ve been driving me crazy with your annoying ass grumblin’.”

Natsu knew of the consequences if he dared to tell the truth, trusting his cousin better than the sure punishment of his adventures being leaked to the adults.

“I met a human,” He sighed, cringing as the color drained from Gajeel’s features. “She was about to get eaten by a wolf—I couldn’t just watch! I-I don’t know what happened...we only spoke for a minute...she’s all I can think about, all I can smell...I can’t stand being away from her!”

“You gotta go kill her,” He said seriously, gripping Natsu’s shoulders as he growled. “This is exactly what Metalicana and Igneel warned us about! She’s infected you with a curse!”

“A curse...” It made sense, ability humans were sure to possess to lure him in with obsession. “Can it be undone? I...I don’t know if I can hurt her.”

“That’s the curse talkin’, a human would never reverse their magic to save you. I say get her before she gets you. Leave before it gets any later, I’ll cover for you,”

Natsu was almost too eager to take off towards the setting sun, snout leading him in the direction of the human witch who was probably waiting for him to arrive. It stung, the thought of having to burn her to a crisp to save his sanity, thinking the girl too precious. More than anything he wanted to wrap her in his arms and coo her to sleep, protect her from outside dangers, hoard her and keep the blonde to himself. He shook his head of these crippling thoughts as he slowed his approach to her home. It was a lone tudor castle in the middle of the woods they had first met. It was old, practically falling apart, deserted if not for the girl locked away inside. He landed on her balcony, quickly shifting as he was unsure the structure could hold the entire weight of his dragon form.

He watched through the window, too nervous to attempt walking in uninvited. The maiden just emerged from her bath, fluffy towel falling to the floor as she stood in front of her armoire, slowly shuffling through her collection of nightgowns. His breath caught in his throat, eyes raking over the lithe curve of her body, uncomfortable as he continued to watch her in secret. 

“I...I can’t...” He whined, unable to follow through and confront her as his cousin suggested. Her curse was too strong and pulled at his heart, wanting to run away but couldn’t find it in him to leave again. He sat and waited in the shadows as he heard her clothes shuffle on, the creak of her bed as she ducked underneath the covers. The dragon anxiously chewed on his thumb as the change to speak to her slipped away, her breath steady and even as she fell asleep.

It had been hours until he forced himself inside her bedroom, instantly dropping to his knees as her aroma overcame his senses. The curse choked him, pulling him immediately to her side to smother his nose where it centered. He was grateful for her heavy sleeping habits, lost in himself as he practically climbed on top of her. He purred and nuzzled against her cheek, holding her close as he sat above her blankets, a whine thick in his throat. His sharp canine bit into his bottom lip, breath ragged as he stared intensely at her sleeping face. Gajeel’s words floated through his mind for a moment, and he saw his chance to rip away at her while she slept. His cheeks flushed as she mewled in her sleep, squirming underneath him as she adjusted herself. Her spell was too strong, he couldn’t even think about raising a hand against her, she was too precious. The dragon licked his lips, shaking as he dipped closer to meet her own. Eyes fluttered shut as he indulged in her flavor, heart beating wildly even with such a quick kiss.

“A dream...?” The girl woke up with flustered cheeks, clutching her blanket close to her chest as she slowly sat up, the room empty just as it had been before she fell asleep.

“Natsu, where have you been?” His mother scolded him as he came through the trees of his home, jumping as his parents glared at him.

“We got home last night, and you weren’t here, what’s going on?” His father said as he crossed his arms. Gajeel said you were on the other side of the island, we couldn’t find you.”

“Sorry, I was just explorin’,” The pink haired boy mumbled as he pushed past them, cringing as Grandine pulled him back.

“Your scent...” His face paled as she caught a whiff of his scent, Igneel curious to smell him as well. “Eh? Natsu, you’ve imprinted?”

[futurewriter2000]

Becuase I hate you the most ~ pt. 4

A/N: Finally decided to edit this draft. Bruh. But I’m finished it wit it and I hope so much that you like it. It’s not one of my proudest fics but I am trying here. All the loves <3

PAIRING: George x reader! Malfoy/BlackTAGS:@siriusly-loves-snuffles, @slither-in-a-half, @nadinissavage, @shadyladyperfection, @geeksareunique, @ashkuuuu, @xinyourdreamsx, @maralisa124, @loserslytherpuff, @chloe-geoghegan1, @musekala, @moonysmilkshake, @crispyfrenchfrieschrusis, @unicorn-sparkles123, @queenofravenclaw05, @redhead-weasley, @fashionlive15, @quokkatrash, @bennie-badeend, @sly-vixen-up2nogood

Other parts —> MASTERLIST

(requests are closed)

Xx

You didn't think words could sting so much. That his absence would hurt and that his eyes could hold so much hatred towards you. You hated how your whole relationship, if you could call it that, changed so much in so little time.

But no. You could never have feelings or future with him. No, your father would disown you if you were ever even rumored to be dating a blood-traitor like George Weasley.

Though he didn't seem like a blood-traitor to you. He was kind and compassionate, funny and always keen on the jokes. So fierce when it came to protecting the ones he loves and so shy when it came to love.

You simpered to yourself, knowing how shy he was at the beginning when the two of you started your "thing" and how he was so braver after, kissing you in places he knew the two of you would be seen. And as much as you hated his try on getting the two of you exposed, you liked how dominant and determined he was in every kiss.

And it was now that you thought you heard his steps coming your way but as they approached, you knew they definitely did not belong to George Weasley.

" Ciao Bella." greeted his twin, smiling and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

" Ciao idiot." you retorded back, pushing his arm from your shoulder and walking away from him.

However your quick pace was not even compared to his long steps, he slid in front of you, stopping by an inch, and giving you the famous Weasley grin. " You're avoiding."

" I wonder why?" you faked a daft look before throwing your bag on the other shoulder and crossing your arms over your chest. " What do you want?"

" Here's the thing." his grin spread wider, his body backing you against the wall while his hand, which rested on the wall behind you, kept the distance safe. " You're a Malfoy, I'm a Weasley and there has always been a rivalry between our family as well as the houses. You hated me, I hated you-bam boom- but now we have gotten to a point where I, Fred Weasley, has to, as always, drag your stubborn and determined arse back there to explain the Snuffles situation and then fix the miserable twin brother situation,"

"Snuffles?"

" The almighty father of yours, yes." he rolled his eyes, closing in the proximity between you two to which to your surprise started to make your heart race. Blushing, you couldn't decide if it was because of his handsome features or the fact that he had pissed you off by speaking of your father.

Yet you pretended not to care. " The only way you'll be able to drag my arse to him is when I'm dead. So good luck." you knocked his shoulder and started walking away from him.

" Yes, yes, I understand that." he kept walking after you. " But-"

"No! No buts." you cut him off.

"If you only list-"

"Fred no! I don't want to ever hear about him!" you finally snapped, glaring at him.

"Fred yes! Fred is the one responsible for his brother and Fred wants you to see the truth behind the hidden dirty lies." he spoke more seriously, his grin disappearing from his lips.

"Why are you talking in a third person?"

"That's not the point " he rolled his eyes. " The point is that if you don't come with me to see him, to try giving him a chance to explain the last fourteen years, you - and him- will feel and understand each other much better." he spoke as he put his hands on both of your shoulders.

" I never thought of you as the serious, caring type, Fred Weasley." you snorted and quirked an eyebrow

"Stop avoiding the subject." he sighed.

And it was his eyes, his kind and beautiful eyes that made you say what you said. To make the frustration inside of you finally break free. " Oh, wouldn't you just like to hear from your father after fourteen years of spending your life with a different family. Thinking about why you didn't belong! Knowing why you didn't resemble them at all! Thinking about why your father preferred your younger brother and not you. YES! Wouldn't you just love to see a father who has left you for fourteen years, two of those spent outside Azkaban with his Godson instead of his daughter? Why don't you just go spend time with your father who always put you in second place! A father who put the Potter family before his own! Always!" you shouted, blind to the tears that shed from your eyes.

Fred, shocked at first, watched you in empathy and his hands all of a sudden wrapped around your body and pulled you closer. You put your hands around him as well, gripping his robes and sobbing into them. As a twin, you have sworn to believe that he would smell like his brother but he didn't. He smelled after a different cheap cologne. Spicy and fresh, like mint, but sweet like honey. And it was that kind of smell that comforted you. It was the smell and touch to make you calm and vulnerable.

---

A week had passed and you were on the verge of breaking down. Every single week was filled with exams and projects, essays, reports, party, ... you didn’t know how to start and to top it all off, there was a Yule Ball coming up.

But that was the last thing on your mind. Your little brother has once again, as always, pissed you off.

So, wherever you were now storming off was better than anywhere near that castle. When the tears started gathering and your throat started to squeeze, you plopped down on your ass and leaned against the tree. Hugging your knees, you let your head fall on your arms and you sobbed.

All the stress and the anxiety that has been bugging you for so many months now expressed through your tears and sobs. The worst part was that as much as you hated to admit, you wanted George by your side. You needed him by your side because he was the person who could always cheer you up in this situation.

But your thoughts about your problems were soon interrupted by something cold and wet touching your arm. You quickly looked up and were faced with a pair of familiar grey eyes. His fur was long and curly, in a dark black color while his quite big snout kept forcing itself under your hand.

You shot him a puzzled look at first, wondering about the boned looking dog who continued to force his snout under your hand until he finally succeeded and let your hand travel to the top of his head.

Simpering, you scratched his head and brushed your thumb against his big ear. “ You really know your timing, mate."

He whined and moved forward with his body, letting his head fall on your lap.

“ You’re adorable.” you smiled, letting your fingers travel down his fur, feeling his ribs on the sides. “ A stray? “ you mumbled to yourself and he let out another whine. “ Well, don’t worry because I am a sucker for dogs and will get you fat immediately.” you cupped his face and kissed his forehead.

He shot his head up immediately, staring at you with his bright blue eyes. Almost as he was expressing surprise. Almost as he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

You gave him a suspicious look because as much as you stared at those eyes and as much as they reminded you of him... it couldn’t be true.

You denied that feeling. Always. You denied it because you didn’t want it to be true. He gave you warmth and safety. It was what you felt every time you came and visited him since that day.

He was a stray. A stray with no family and no owner.

It’s what you kept telling yourself. Every single day when you visited him when deep down you knew the truth. You just kept denying it.

So as months passed by and another day followed, you plopped down on your ass and waited for him to come.

Yet he didn't. You waited and continued to sit on the cold grass. It felt like hours have passed when only 15 minutes did. Twenty minutes, 30 minutes...

You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. " Guess today someone is busy." you grumbled under your breath and pulled out a bag of food, placing it next to a tree.

" Guess I am." a voice came from behind and you froze where you stood.

Like your heart has stopped and the whole world started to spin, you continued to stand there, frozen, with your eyes spread wide and staring at the Hogwarts castle.

" I kept thinking the ways to approach you. Guess it's too soon." he chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his neck.

" What are you doing here." you tried to speak but it came out as a weak, broken voice.

And as much as you didn't see it, it broke him. It broke him to know how much you really hated him. How much you were afraid of being alone with him...He didn't want this. He didn't want you to be left with the Malfoys or his mother or growing up to know your biological father was a criminal. He was far from that and he resented Remus for not taking you in as a godfather duty.

" I just want to talk, Layla." he spoke softly.

You sharply turned around, glaring at him through your fallen tears. " My name is (y/n), not Layla!"

" (y/n). Okay then." he spoke calmly, slightly lifting his hands. " Can we talk?"

"No! We cannot!" you snapped immediately. " YOU ABANDONED ME! FOR FOURTEEN YEARS!" you shouted at him, tears streaming down your eyes. " I WAS THREE! THREE!" you continued to bawl. " AND ODD HOW I CAN REMEMBER EVERY SINGLE MOMENT SPENT WITH YOU! 'Princess, you called me.' " you spoke quietly now. " Layla, you named me but Layla is not here." you continued. " The day you left me, left your whole life behind, was the day you decided to give me a new life. A life as a Malfoy."

" I didn't abandon you. I-I."

" You chose them. You chose them every time. Even when you got out you went after Harry first."

" You really think I would do that." he spoke surprised and your eyes met his. " You were the first thought when I woke up in the morning and the last when I fell asleep." he said and took a step closer. " You were the person who made me sane in that prison. You were the happiness I clung to when I thought I'd lost it all." he smiled and took another step to you. " I made a mistake, going after Peter the way I did. I wasn't thinking straight. I wasn't thinking at all but when James died I was ought to feel lost and angry. But I wasn't ought to not think of you."

He was now so close to you that his hand could touch your chin and brush the tears from your cheeks.

" I did see you. Before Harry. " he sighed and you felt your heart somehow lighter for tons. "I saw you walking down the corridor with your friends, laughing and teasing Draco...you were so happy...so grown up." this time a tear escaped his eye. " So obliviated by the fact of who I was to you...and I was afraid you would be scared if I came to you because you thought of me as a murderer. And after the holidays you came back different and I knew that you found out. Every time somebody mentioned Sirius Black, you flinched yet pretended to be fine." he paused for a moment before speaking again. " I couldn't do it. I couldn't face the hate you felt for me every single day since you found out. "

" I didn't hate you back then." you cut him off. " I hoped that you would come to me and tell me that you didn't kill that wizard. That you have an explanation for all of this...but you didn't. And I waited for you for a year and stopped after I realized you just didn't want to see me."

"But I did!" he took a hold of your hands and pulled you closer, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. " I did, Princess. I wanted to." he pulled you into a hug, squeezing you so tightly as he decided never to let go of you. " I love you so much. My life is nothing without you in it and Harry may be my godson but you will always be mine." he pulled away and cupped your cheeks. " You gave me three the most amazing years of my life. Even when you told me you hated me I found it a blessing just to see your eyes, your hair..a Slytherin-wow." tears streamed down his cheeks as well on yours. " So bloody proud of you." he sobbed, smiling before he pulled away and cupped your cheeks once again. " And I'm sorry. I am so so sorry for what I put you through."

[thetravelerwrites]

Kermit (Ohio Frogman)

Rating: General Audiences Relationship: Gender Neutral Reader x Gender Neutral Frogman Additional Tags: Frogman, Exophilia, Interspecies Romance, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Girlfriend, Mild Language Words: 1518

@aeliad showed me this cryptid and thought I’d like it. It’s my first attempt at a moodboard, too; an experiment to see if it helps catch the eye. Just a bit of fluff to clear my head and distract myself from the anxiety of multiple looming surgical procedures in the coming weeks. Please leave feedback!

Moving to Ohio hadn’t been your idea, but when your sister gets out of a bad relationship and calls you for help, what are you gonna do? She couldn’t just up and come to you, either, since both of her kids were still in school and it was the middle spring semester, so the only thing you could do was go to her.

She lived in a small town outside of Cincinnati, nevermind where exactly, but it was charming enough. Though, strangely, several of the people in town had told you to stay away from the bridges when you arrived. When you asked why, they simply smiled and moved on.

Well, it wasn’t going to stop you from taking your runs; they were the only thing that kept you sane. You could only listen to your sister complain about her ex so many times before you needed to get out of the house.

There was a running track near the Little Miami River that looked promising, though you noticed it had very little foot traffic. Not that that bothered you in the slightest.

It was still early morning when you took your first run since moving here. The sun was just under the horizon, the air was nice and crisp, there wasn’t too much condensation making the trail slick, and the best songs were playing on your phone’s random queue. It was the perfect morning.

There it was, in the distance: a bridge. A bridge next to the water, no less. The very thing everyone was warning you about. You couldn’t see what the big deal was. Small town people were just way too superstitious.

The sun was rising, and you stopped for a moment to appreciate the way the light reflected on the water. It was then she saw the glow of eyes in the water about twenty feet away.

Couldn’t be a gator, could it? They were common where you lived, but did they live this far north? You weren’t sure, but you weren’t willing to stick around to find out.

As you turned to continue your run, you tripped on the only rock in the road and hit the ground hard, your phone skittering out of your pocket and across the pavement, ripping the headphones out of your ears. You heard a splash, as if something had jumped from the water, and you turned to find a creature standing over you, looming in the low light.

It was green and wrinkly, standing only about four feet tall, with a huge head and wide mouth. It’s weird eyes bulged from it’s head and the pupils had a weird sideways hourglass shape. It had four fingers on both hands and both feet. It was barrel-chested though it’s waist was extremely narrow.

Your heart thudded in your chest as you looked up in it. It reached out to you and you remembered you had legs and ran. You heard a whoosh and then a thump. You looked behind you and realize it was jumping after you, it’s leap a staggeringly long distance. Damn it! It would catch up to you without breaking a sweat.

You kept running, hearing it leaping faster to catch up. Again, because life was a cruel son of a bitch, you tripped again on seemingly nothing. You turned, and it was upon you, crouched over you, staring at you with its strange eyes.

“Whatever you’re going to do, Kermit, just do it,” You said, your fear making you facetious. You tended to be snarky when you were scared.

They raised his closed fist and presented it to you, and you flinched, not knowing what to expect. They opened their hand, and your phone lay in their palm.

“You dropped this,” They said, their voice surprisingly smooth. You were expecting it to be… well… croaky.

“...oh,” You said, reaching carefully for your phone.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” They said, backing away.

“No, wait,” You said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’ve just never seen anything like you before.”

“Wouldn’t think so,” They said. “Not many of us left.”

“What’s your name?” You asked them, giving them yours in return.

“We don’t use names,” They said. “That’s a human thing.”

“Oh, well, can I give you a name, since I’m human?”

“The thing you called me before will be fine,” He said.

“Kermit?” You said, laughing. “That was a joke.”

“Why is it funny?” They asked, tilting their head.

“Uh… never mind,” You said. “I have to go, but I’d like to come back and see you. Would that be okay?”

“You want to see me again?” They said skeptically. “People are scared of us. You were scared.”

“Yeah, true,” You admitted. “But I’m not scared now. I’d like to get to know you better, if you want.”

They thought about it for a moment. “Yes,” They said. “I would.”

“Okay,” You said, standing. They stood with you, standing about a foot shorter, and you had to suppress and urge to kiss their broad snout. “It was nice to meet you, Kermit.”

“Come back soon, please,” They said, giving you a wide, strange smile. It leapt back down the road and disappeared back into the river. Your last look back saw their eyes following you down the road. You smiled. And here you were scared you wouldn’t make any friends in this town.

You came back every morning and afternoon, and they were always there to meet you. You had to admit, you thought they were very sweet. They didn’t understand much about humans, having never spent much time around them, but they tried hard to understand you and your customs enough to have long conversations.

They tried to tell you about their own people, but they had been alone since they were young, and they couldn’t really elaborate much on their life. They spent most of their time observing humans who came close to the river and encouraging the growth and wildlife in the waters.

Sometimes they would give you things they found in the river, usually shoes or bottles or other rubbish people left in the water they thought you’d like because you were human and they were human things. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t have the heart to tell them it was garbage.

Although once or twice, they did give you things that were interesting, like a stone carving of a moose, a petrified branch that was several interesting colors, and a fox skull encrusted in shells. Those you kept in your apartment, on a special shelf you had bought to display them. Your sister was beginning to wonder where your eclectic taste in art had come from.

“Why do you give me presents when I come see you?” You asked them one morning as you were eating a picnic breakfast you had packed with them.

“Our kind are very solitary beings. We don’t have what your kind might call friends. The only time we attach ourselves to another is when we take a mate.”

Your stomach clenched. “Wait… wait, wait, are you saying you’re courting me?”

They played with their fingers nervously. “Have I done something bad?”

“No, no, it’s not that,” You assured them. “I just… didn’t know.”

“I’ve been drawn to you since the moment you didn’t run away from me screaming. I thought that was rather endearing. I should have told you right away, but I thought you would refuse right away. I thought maybe if I gave you the gifts first, you might be less likely to reject me when I asked you to be my mate. As I said, there aren’t many of us anymore. I’ve been alone for a long time,” They finished morosely.

“I do like you,” You told them, and they looked up hopefully. “It’s just a little sudden. It’s going to take time to wrap my head around it.”

They tilted their head in confusion.

“I mean, I need to think about it,” You clarified.

“Oh,” They said. “That’s fair.”

You bumped their shoulder. “Don’t look so worried. You haven't scared me off. I still like you.”

“I’m glad,” They said, laying their large head against your arm. You bent down and placed a kiss between their eyes.

A few weeks later, it was warm enough to go swimming, and you went into the river with them. They took you to a secluded part of the river and showed you the nest they had built.

“For you,” They said. “No pressure; it’s just in case. I like to be prepared.”

You hugged them. “I love it,” You told them. “And I love you, too.”

They looked up at you with hope. “So you accept me? You’ll be my mate?”

You laughed. “I’ll have to find a way to explain this to my sister, but yes. I accept.”

“Oh!” They exclaimed, somehow strong enough to lift you up high despite being shorter than you. “I’m so excited! I can’t wait to lay my eggs inside you! I love you!”

You laughed. “Yeah, I love you too.”

…

“Wait, what?”

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[lala-pipo]

Title: It's the End of the World as we know it – 1/1 – Pairing: Jonghyun x Key (JongKey) Rating: PG-13  Genre: AU, Drama Warning(s): Character Death Final Word Count: 4,474 

                            Written for the JongKey Writing Contest

Have you ever wondered what you would do if you had only one hour left to live? Have you ever wondered where you would be, and who you would be with?

Jonghyun had.

More often than he would have liked to admit. But no matter what wild scenarios he had come up with in his mind during a loose string of uncountable sleepless nights, reality looked different; harsher, crueler, and more uncontrollable. It showed him the finality of life, showed him that nothing on this planet was meant to last forever, maybe not even the planet itself.

That even infinity had its limit.

He had imagined to be at home with his family and his dog and eat his mother’s cooking for the last time. He had imagined to nag at his older sister for dying her hair in an extravagant color once again, and fondling his dachshund’s floppy ears beneath the table, feeling its wet, cold snout press against the palm of his hand. He had imagined to sit together at the dining table with the people he loved most in the world, laughing and joking, drinking some wine, pretending that it was just another normal day, and that the sun would rise and shine again the next one. He had imagined to hug all three of them in a tight embrace when the time was almost over, telling them under tears how much he loved them, thanking his mother for everything she had done for them.

It was a classical dream scenario, a quite clichéd one, one might even say. Spending time with the people closest to you, a sentimental act of fellowship deeply rooted in our genetics.

But what if you didn’t know about your last hour on earth beforehand? What if you were unprepared, thrown into cold water without any time to get ready for it?

Would you live your life differently?

Jonghyun had heard from the end of his existence too late, far too late.

A huge comet approaching earth, a natural disaster that would wipe out South Korea all at once, erasing it from the map as if it was an accidentally made spot of ink.

To make things worse Jonghyun wasn’t in Seoul with his family, but on the other side of the country for vacation, standing in the middle of a sidewalk in Busan, people screaming and crying, kneeling on the asphalt in despair all around him, the transportation system and radio network collapsed, cars lining up chaotically on the street, abandoned and forgotten since there was no use in leaving the city anymore, the whole country destined to disappear in less than an hour.

A modern version of Judgment Day.

There was no battlefield of the dead, no fire reaching up to the sky in bursting, hot flames, and no noise of advancing hooves belonging to the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. There was nothing the like but the screeching of people in agony.

Agony caused by the sudden realization that humans weren’t supreme, but small, petty parasites, infesting every fragment of this planet and claiming it as their own out of greed, only to let it slowly rot from the inside until it would eventually surrender, and fall apart completely.

“We should go somewhere else. I don’t want to be here during my last minutes on earth.”

There was a hand on Jonghyun’s wrist all of a sudden, pulling slightly on his wrinkled, white dress-shirt, urging him to start walking. As he turned around he looked straight up into a pair of feline eyes; eyes he barely knew. He had seen them for the first time less than nine hours ago, checking him out curiously in a club close to the beach, the person belonging to these eyes introducing himself as Kibum a little later.

“Where do you want to go?”

Sirens could be heard all over town, the same penetrating noise circulating in the air for almost two hours by now, a stern voice resounding through loudspeakers, telling everyone to stay calm.

What reason was there to stay calm if this place was doomed and there was no place to go, no way to survive?

“The beach.”

Jonghyun couldn’t fully fathom the situation he was in as he followed the other into the bustle of people, every single one of them having their own story to tell.

How many of them were alone in this town? How many of them had planned a date for today? How many of them celebrated their birthday? How many kids were about to be born nationwide in the next few minutes only to be faced with death shortly afterwards?

The man in front of him was slim, his movements smooth and delicate as he pushed his way through, throwing a look over his shoulder every few meters as if to make sure that Jonghyun was still there.

It was a surreal experience and Jonghyun felt like he had disconnected from his body already, feeling himself walk, but having no control over his actions anymore. His eyes were fixed on a prominent mop of blue dyed hair that stuck out from the crowd, his mind blending out all the noise around him.

Everything blurred into nothingness, the people, the sound, every single building surrounding him, and he just kept walking, and walking, the humid summer heat causing his shirt to stick to his skin, sweat rolling down his temples and neck, his eyes hurting from the brightness of the burning sun.

There were people trying to escape their destiny by boarding little fishing boats and rubber dinghies to leave the peninsula when the two of them finally reached the beach, the attempt hopeless, because the shock waves of the impact would reach far into the ocean, probably even noticeable on the Southern islands of Japan. However, faced by danger humans tended to clutch at any straw in faith for salvation, ignoring all possible consequences their actions might have.

The warm breeze near the ocean was refreshing, and drowned out the sirens echoing over the streets almost completely. Jonghyun took a deep breath, salt and desperation mixing in the air, a feeling of finality embracing him in its arms.

Usually, Busan’s white beaches were a haven for residents as well as tourists during summer, thousands of people swarming around to find an empty spot of land for their towels to flee daily life, but today it almost looked deserted despite the temperatures, no one but them and the people on their little boats occupying the hot sand.

His companion sat down beneath a left-behind sun umbrella; the stick crooked, and the white lacquer on it partially flaked off, revealing rusty patches of metal, the cloth of the blue cover torn on one side, the ragged piece of fabric waving in the wind, single threads coiling around like worms.

“That’s it, I guess. The final hour of our lives.”  

Kibum unfastened his red sneakers and placed them next to him on the ground before he took off his white socks, and neatly rolled them up to stuff them into his shoes, burying his toes into the sand.

“That’s not how I imagined it to be,” Jonghyun uttered quietly, sitting down into the shadow next to the other, looking out into the sea. The seagulls flying over the ocean, screeching, and looking for food, went on with their routine, lived their life like every day, not knowing that the fish they caught would be the last they ever ate. He wasn’t sure if he should pity or envy them for not knowing what was about to come, that this place would be gone as well as all existing life in foreseeable time.

“Me neither,” Kibum agreed, and lay down with a sigh, stretching out his pale legs into the sun, which were only covered by a short pair of blue, washed out jeans. “No need for sun blocker anymore, I guess.”

Involuntarily both of them started laughing at the absurdity of the comment, waiting for their lives to end, but wasting thoughts on trivial things like the prevention of a sun burn.

“It’s weird knowing that you will be the last person I will see in this life.”

Jonghyun turned serious again, and gazed down at Kibum before concentrating back on the sea when the other looked back at him.

“I think you can be lucky that it is my face and not the face of someone far less attractive,” Kibum replied in a teasingly mocking tone, putting a small smile onto Jonghyun’s face. They had spent the night together at a cheap hour motel, a hook-up that was about to turn into the last social interaction of his life.

The sirens had woken them up from a short slumber, Jonghyun’s head still aching from the whiskey he had drunk the night before, his legs and arms entangled with the other’s naked, sweaty form beside him. Jonghyun had gone clubbing with the goal of getting laid, the simplicity of this human desire making him snort scornfully in retrospective. He should have stayed home in Seoul with his family, should have given his mom a foot rub, his sister a compliment, and his dog a treat, but all should have’s were pointless now, changing nothing about his circumstances.

“Why do you think it will hit us of all places in the world? Do you think it’s because we wanted too much in too little time?”

“The world, as it is now, wants to die, wants to perish — and it will,” Jonghyun responded absentmindedly, diving his hands into the sand and lifting them up again, letting the grains trickle between his fingers, the feeling somehow comforting.  

“Where is this from?”

“Demian by Herman Hesse. It’s one of my favorites. Under other conditions I would recommend you reading it.”

Jonghyun rubbed his hands against his black skinny jeans to get rid of the sand before he reached for his cell phone in his pocket, a picture of his sister appearing on the screen as he pressed the menu button.

“South Korea is just the beginning. Others will follow soon. If not hit by a natural catastrophe then by a man-made one. Humans have been greedy for too long, polluting the air, the land, and the sea, destroying nature with every step they take, not caring about other lives existing on this planet. This world can’t go on like this. It doesn’t want to go on like this,” Jonghyun explained pensively, unlocking the screen of his phone only to see that there was still no radio signal, robbing him of the chance to talk to his family one last time.

Yet he opened his messenger app to write his mother and sister that he loved them, sending the text off into no-man’s-land before pushing the phone back into his pocket with a sigh, hoping that they were together, that they were safe, that they weren’t scared.  

It was strangely quiet on the beach like the silence before a storm, ringing in the beginning of an end.

“Do you have any regrets?”

Like a movie Jonghyun saw his life pass in front of his eyes; kindergarten, elementary school, middle school, high school, university, and his first real job. Saw missed chances, unrequited love interests, accomplishments, failures and success, saw his first love and his last one, saw the good times he had with friends, and the lonely times when he thought he was the only person left on this planet.

Every experience – be it good or bad – had formed him, had made him into the person he was today, a person he was proud of.

“No, I don’t think so. You?”

Kibum sat up then, pulled his legs towards his chest, and hugged his knees, staring straight ahead into the distance, his blue strands of hair softly waving into the breeze, covering his eyes every now and then.

“Yes, actually I have,” he began, and licked his lips. “I should have come out earlier and stand up for myself instead of hiding behind a mask, pretending to be someone I’m not for years.”

Kibum combed his hair back with his hand, and held it in place for a moment before he let it fall back into his face again, the strands parting in the middle of his scalp, framing his smooth forehead beautifully.

“There was this guy called Minho. I had a crush on him all throughout high-school. He probably wasn’t into guys, but who knows. I should have told him after graduating that he was my first love so I could find closure, but I never did. It always bothered me to not know what could have been, you know? What if he had felt the same way and had the same fears as I had? I eventually moved on and got over him when I entered university and stumbled upon my first boyfriend in a lecture about renaissance art, but this question always lingered in the back of my mind. What if things had been different? First loves are hard to forget, I guess. Even if the love was one-sided.”

Jonghyun hummed in agreement, thinking about his own first crush, an exchange student from Japan who had joined Jonghyun’s class in his first year of high school, and had made him want to learn Japanese on the spot. Unfortunately, his motivation for learning the language by watching anime non-stop had dropped as quickly as it had come when the boy had moved back to his home country after only four weeks.

“Why aren’t you with your family or friends right now, but suggested going to the beach with a complete stranger instead?”

“You are not a complete stranger, but a person I slept with. So let’s call you an acquaintance of bodily intimacy since it sounds more formal than a hook-up,” Kibum deadpanned, bumping his knee against Jonghyun’s. “I’m from Daegu, I only came to Busan for a gallery opening that was supposed to take place in two days. I thought I should combine this trip with a short vacation. Dying during my break from work. That’s the way to go, I guess. What about you?”

Kibum leaned forward to rest his cheek on his knees, having his head turned to Jonghyun to look at him.

Wasn’t it fascinating how one could have already seen a person’s naked body squirm in pleasure and arousal, have licked every part of their body with their tongue, have seen them come with loud moans, and yet didn’t even know where they were from or what they did for a living?

Not that it mattered anymore.

Every word that left their lips would be forgotten when their time had come, and Jonghyun heard the clock ticking away in his mind, every passing second bringing them closer to their fate.

“I live in Seoul, but decided to take a short break from everything and come here to see something else for once.”

“Maybe it was destiny that two people who are not from Busan meet each other in this city for their final goodbyes,” Kibum pondered, a pout framing his small mouth. His face was pretty with its high cheekbones and bright skin, a mischievous sparkle gleaming in his eyes whenever he started talking. If they had met at a different time, at a different place Jonghyun would probably have asked him out on a date to actually get to know more about him than just the small, cute butterfly tattoo next to his navel, and the faded, finger length scar on his inner left thigh.  

The little boats were far out in the ocean now, getting smaller and smaller until they disappeared beyond the horizon. Maybe there was a chance for these escapees after all, maybe they would make it far enough so only their boats would get ripped apart by the shock wave and not their bodies. But what were they going to do after that, swimming in salt water without any land in sight? Die on the high sea? Torn apart in the blink of an eye by the impact of the comet seemed like a better death, a less painful one compared to drowning from exhaustion.

“I wonder why I’m so calm and haven’t freaked out yet. Maybe I’m still believing that all this is just a macabre joke or a nightmare I’m eventually going to wake up from,” Kibum said after a while and straightened up again, stretching his arms behind his head one at a time, moving his shoulders in a circular motion.

“I feel the same way. I know I should panic, scream, cry, show any kind of emotion, but this all feels so unreal, as if it was part of a very bad dream. I know it’s not, but I feel numbed,” Jonghyun described his thoughts in a composed voice, his eyes wandering along the coast, and up into the sky.

His posture stiffened when he saw the comet, his hand automatically reaching out to grab Kibum’s shoulder, his free hand pointing at the sky. There it was, still far away in the distance, but visibly getting closer. It would only take about fifteen more minutes before the comet would fly above their heads on its way to end their lives. According to the emergency announcement the comet would crash near Daejon, around 125 miles away from Busan.

Allegedly the military had tried to destroy the comet before it could reach the peninsula on request of the government, but all attempts had been unsuccessful. At least that’s what the voice had said. But who knew what the truth was? Maybe members of the government had left the country in their private jets by now, abandoning South Korea and its people, treating them like a sounder of swine on their way to the butcher. In a government having turned out to be so corrupt and ruthless it wouldn’t come as a surprise to Jonghyun.

“So this oversized shooting star will extinguish us at a single blow?”

Kibum didn’t seem convinced and tilted his head, looking a little dumbfounded.

“It seems like it.”

They hadn’t given out detailed information about the comet and its size. The last time Jonghyun had been able to check the news, the comet had still been described as a harmless and a seldom occurring spectacle, because it would pass earth close enough to be actually detectable by the human eye. What had caused the comet to change its course all of a sudden?

It was a question Jonghyun would never get an answer to.

“Damn, I feel like getting drunk,” Kibum groaned, fanning himself, pulling at the collar of his white, loose tank top to blow some cold air into it. Jonghyun looked around the beach, turning his head to scan the nearby street for any vending machines.

“Your wish is my command,” was all he uttered when he finally discovered two of them standing right next to each other, and he stood up from the ground, tapping off the sand on his jeans before crossing the beach on his way to the beverage dispensers. Spending his last money on some alcohol in the morning seemed like a wise decision, he thought as he scanned his ID before choosing different brands of beer, the cans falling into the retrieval unit at the bottom of the vending machine with a metallic clicking sound.

As he was about to put his ID back into his wallet he halted for a second, fingers gliding over all the information that made him identifiable for everyone on this planet, letters and numbers that had determined his life. It all seemed so useless now.

Before going back he used the remaining coins in his wallet on some chocolate bars, sour gummy worms, a small bag of chips, and a pack of salted peanuts. There was no need for him to care of his diet or health anymore. Both arms loaded with sweets and beer he made his way back to Kibum, the comet already appearing to be bigger compared to the last time he had checked. He let the snacks flutter into the other’s lap like snow before he sat down with the beer in his arms, neatly lining up the cans in the sand.

“I didn’t know what brand you like, so I bought everything that was offered. Choose whatever you like,” he explained swiftly, letting his hand wander over the different cans in an inviting gesture.

“Wow, right now I honestly pity myself for only meeting you on the last day of my life. You seem like quite the catch, Mr. Jonghyun,” Kibum stated with a wink, going for the blue can in the middle.

“It’s Kim. Kim Jonghyun.”

Jonghyun didn’t know why he had said it, since what importance had it for him to say his full name anymore? Was it a flash of nostalgia? An anxious wish to not be completely forgotten? He hadn’t accomplished anything in his life that could be found in any history books, his name so common without a touch of uniqueness to it. And yet he had always liked hearing his name, had liked the sweetness it had when his mother said it, the teasing roughness when his sister used it, or the urgency it had when a lover called it during sex.

“If it weren’t for Kim being the most common surname in Korea I might as well believe that we’re indeed destined, Mr. Kim Jonghyun. My name is Kim Kibum.”

With that Kibum cracked open the can with a sizzle, the carbonated beverage fizzing out, causing the other to immediately lift the can to his lips, slurping loudly.

“Cheers to us then, Kim Kibum,” Jonghyun smirked, opening his own can to lift it into the air. “To the last minutes of our lives,” he toasted, and then clinked cans with the other. The liquid felt cold as it trickled down his throat, the sweet bitterness letting him forget the reason why they sat on the beach at 8am in the morning with beer in their hands.

“I loved this sticky, gummy stuff when I was a kid. I would always go to the 7-Eleven near my elementary school to spend my pocket money on it,” Kibum mumbled after he had ripped open the black bag of gummies, munching on a sugar coated red and blue colored worm, half of it hanging out of his mouth. “It’s weird how I remember the oddest details of my childhood right now. There was this flower shop near my house and it always smelled of exotic flowers in my room because of that. We moved away from this shop over eighteen years ago, but somehow I have this distinct, familiar, flowery scent in my nose all of a sudden, and I don’t know why,” he continued in thought, taking another worm before offering the bag to Jonghyun.

“Maybe our brains already have accepted the fact that it will all be over soon, and want to remind us of nicer episodes in our lives,” he replied quietly, seeing himself walk around the house in his kendo uniform as a little boy, jumping in front of his sister with a bright pink swimming noodle in his hands every chance he got, challenging her to a duel, his sister only rolling his eyes at him and calling for their mom when he didn’t stop going on her nerves. He had been such an annoying little brother, he thought to himself with a smile, wondering if his sister still remembered it.

“It’s quite close now,” Jonghyun stated after a while of them sitting next to each other in silence while drinking their beer and eating unhealthy snacks. The comet was red and blazing, dragging a bright train behind.

It was the first time Jonghyun felt something like fear bubbling up inside of him, his insides clenching uncomfortably, and his heartbeat quickening in his chest. Humans often started to feel emotions like fear or happiness only when directly confronted with the things that caused them, when it became tangible, noticeable for their own eyes.  

“Do you think it will hurt?” Kibum’s energetic voice was quieter now, the mischievousness in his eyes gone when Jonghyun looked at him.  

“I don’t know, but I imagine it to be over quickly. Don’t be scared.”

Jonghyun grabbed for Kibum’s hand then, squeezing it lightly, both of their palms sweaty and sticky. He felt like the words he had just spoken out loud were rather meant to calm his own nerves than being a reassurance for the other, his body trembling.

“Can you hold me?”

The comet was flying above their heads now, darkening the blue sky, and throwing a big shadow on earth. They could feel the almost unbearable heat radiating from it, the ear-piercing sound it made as it passed them. Jonghyun let the beer can fall into the sand without a second of hesitation, the leaking liquid coloring the sand in a deep brown as he leaned forward to sling his arms around the man next to him, clinging on to him as if he was his most beloved possession.

He thought about his sister and about his mother, about their family dog, and the friends he would never be able to see again, tears finally starting to build up in his eyes, and running down his cheeks, falling onto Kibum’s tank top.

“Thank you for staying with me.”

Kibum’s voice was not more than a whisper and Jonghyun only tightened his embrace, nestling his nose into the other’s hair, breathing in salt and soap, and pressing a soft kiss onto his head, fingertips burying themselves into the other’s skin.

They waited, and waited, listening to the rushing of the waves, and the calling of the seagulls. Jonghyun heard his own heartbeat drumming in his ears as if it was a marching band accompanying him on his way to face the gallows, felt the quivering of Kibum’s body in his arms.

Seconds and minutes passed without anything happening, the tension in Jonghyun’s body agonizing. But then everything fell silent all of a sudden, the waves, the seagulls, Kibum in his arms.

The heat that washed over them seconds later was insufferable, swallowing and devouring their bodies, lashing their skin, tearing it apart. Jonghyun held onto the other desperately, the shock wave hurling and pushing them towards the ocean. There was a moment of splitting pain in his skull, and Jonghyun heard Kibum piteously scream in agony.

Then the moment was gone, a feeling of warmth and light flowing through Jonghyun’s body. He felt free and weightless, his body drifting through the air in ashes before there was nothing left of him. Nothing left of his world.

Time had stopped.

The world was still.

                                                 The End

[lonely-pages-of-ink]

Lost

The leaves under my back were uncomfortable and I let out a small whine, obviously I'd been pushed out of the nest in the middle of the night. I wiggled closer to where I'd expect to find a warm body, but there were just more leaves. Eyes cracking open, I let out a big yawn and sat up with a stretch. I wondered where Chelsea had gone, her usual snores were absent from the early morning sounds.

I let out a small yip and expected her to be my side almost immediately. Frowning when no one answered, I slowly opened my eyes all the way. Dragging my tongue over my snout, I shook out my fur as I woke up fully.

Peering around, I was surprised to find myself sitting in the middle of the forest. Confusion filled me as I swung my head around, unease suddenly chasing off the rest of any sleepy contentment I'd been feeling a moment before. I let out another small bark, fear filling me as I realized I was nowhere near the den.

There was only silence that followed my tentative cry. Heart pumping faster, I got up and started to pad around. Feeling scared and small, I looked around in hopes of finding something familiar. All the trees looked the same and nothing smelled right. The bad feeling in my tummy grew as I slowly made my way through the trees. I had never really liked being alone, but this was ten times worse. I had no idea where I was or why I was here.

I refused to think that they had just dumped me here, the pack covering their tracks and leaving me to wonder aimlessly. Chelsea wouldn't do that. We were family.

Repressing a whimper, I kept going. I knew that I'd eventually find someone, there had to be civilization somewhere. The world wasn't just woods.

I'd only been walking for about ten seconds when I froze, a twig snapping to the right. Before I could even think about running, a large black shape shot out from the bushes and slammed into me. I cried out, tumbling over onto my back. A large black wolf stood over me, pining me to the cold ground. Eyes wide, I stared upwards at them as a deep growl rumbled in their throat. Without realizing it, my body had begun to shake.

I knew I was small, it was impossible not to when I constantly had my sister by my side. She was older, bigger and stronger. Everyone in the pack was bigger, they all knew how to remind me of this daily. This wolf just made it glaringly obvious, their body looming over me as I cowered into the dirt. After a moment, they let out a huff and leaned down to drag their tongue over my forehead and between my ears. Even though was something you did to calm down pups, I relaxed a little and was able to recognize that this was a male warrior.

For a moment, he stared down at me as he contemplated something. Slowly, he nudged me over onto my stomach and lifted me up by the scruff of my neck. I let out a squeak of protests, but he didn't reply. Embarrassed and unsure what was happening, I went limp and let this stranger carry me. There was no way I could fight them off or ever outrun them.

In silence, we traveled through more unfamiliar land. I recognized nothing, my scruff prickling uncomfortably from being so far out of my element. I was scared, nervous and sweaty. I knew the other wolf could sense this, but thankfully he made no comment. Soon, they came to a stream and they leapt easily onto a rock in the center of the water flow. I let out a noise of complaint as some cool water splashed up as he landed, the stone just barely peeking out from under the surface.

"Quiet." he said, voice slightly muffled.

I complied, and we spent the rest of the journey without saying a word. I started to drift a little, the gentle rocking from the warrior's walking and the soft wind through my fur making me drowsy. The moment I spotted a den, I snapped back into reality as butterflies burst into life in my stomach.

Unable to do much else, I just kept my head down as we entered the dim cave. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I didn't look up. I didn't want to see the scary guys in a new place or the questioning looks I'd get. I knew I was quiet, but I usually wasn't shy. Then again, I'd never met anyone new before, the nerves were most likely from the whole confusing scenario.

A hundred new scents assaulted my nose and I could hear voices all around me, but I couldn't bring myself to lift my head. I was ashamed of being carried around like some pup and I was tired from the emotional rollercoaster I'd been through. I had never been so far outside the den, I had never been attacked or comforted by someone I didn't know before. I could only absorb so much at one time, so when I was set on the ground I just laid there on my side and closed my eyes.

"Who's the pup?" I heard a gruff voice ask. I'd never met another alpha in my life, but I knew this guy had to be. He had the same aura that demanded respect that my alpha had.

"Not sure." The black wolf replied. "Found him by the border."

I felt a nose press into my flank and I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, wishing to be back by Chelsea's side. There was a soft snort and the touch disappeared.

"He's a little thing, isn't he?” I heard the alpha say. That hurt.

"Yeah. Whoever he belongs to, they left no trace, they left him there to die." Okay, now I was feeling sick. Left to die? Why would Chelsea do that? I was the only family she had left... "He's not even old enough to speak yet."

"Frank! Not in front of the kid." A new, distinctively feminine voice said, sounding appalled.

"Sorry." The wolf who had carried me, or Frank, grunted back.

"Hello, little one. Can you open those eyes for me?" she said in a kind voice. Slowly, I did as she asked. "Ah, there we are. You're a cutie, aren't you?" If I wasn't a wolf now, I would have turned bright red and sputtered out embarrassed non-sense. This she-wolf had blond fur and calm brown eyes, smiling warmly down at me. "Come along, I have someone I'd like you to meet."

I didn't want to move farther into this other pack's den, but it seemed I had no choice, so I hauled myself to my feet and trudged after her.

She was obviously the Luna, her presence grabbing the other's attention and softly nudged them into moving politely out of the way as she past. She wasn't forceful or commanding like an alpha, she simply got respect because everything about her seemed to naturally make you want to listen.

My attention was back on where she was escorting me the moment I heard the small squeaks. I stepped behind her hind legs, nervous and unsure exactly who to trust. The Luna tsked and reached back to nudge me unwillingly forwards. "This is Lola," she murmured. "She'll look after you." I could hear that she wanted to say something more but held it back. I took a deep breath and slowly padded forwards to the equally nice she-wolf. Her presence was warm and motherly, the soft sent of milk making me relax.

"Well hello there, little one." Her honeyed voice murmured, snout coming forwards to touch mine. "It's nice to meet you." I shied away, the action far more intimate than anything anyone's ever done to me before. She let out a soft chuckle. "No need to be shy. Come, I'd like you to meet my pups."

So, she drew me forwards, laying on her side so her stomach was exposed to the little wriggling bodies could burrow into the soft fur and suckle eagerly at her teats. Immediately, embarrassment prickled along my pelt. This she-wolf was feeding her pups and was inviting me closer. I had never been so flustered in my life, ears flat on my head as I quickly backed away. She frowned but smoothed out her features to coo comfortingly at me. I was on the verge of tears, frustration and pain from the abandonment mixing together into one big mess inside me. Closing my eyes briefly, I carefully came forwards under her promptings and joined the others. I pushed in close and considered one of the other pups drinking away before pressing my face into her fur and sat there under the illusion of feeding.

I wasn't going to sink as low as to feed from this stranger! I was nearly seventeen winters old, I shouldn't be here! I sniffled quietly but continued to pretend until the small bundles of energy detached from their mother and happily snuggled in close for a nap. I distanced myself from the rest and curled up alone outside the small bubble of the content family. I counted around five pups, a rather large litter, and I was the clear outsider. I was the same size as them, a sharp blow to my pride, but I didn't have any of the natural tawny and brown they all had. I was a dull gray and off-white, completely different from the others but not pretty like the other snow-pelted warriors in my pack.

I knew that I'd be here, in this pack of strangers, for a while. If it was true, if I had been abandoned...well I didn't want to dwell on that thought. They'd either come for me or they wouldn't, I couldn't go wondering alone in the woods. I'd been lucky to have been taken in by such nice people, I could have easily fallen prey to a feral pack of rogues.

I let out a long, shuddering breath. I knew I didn't belong, I barely belong in my last pack, but I couldn't help the big empty feeling in my chest. The feeling of the pack bond had been long severed and I knew that technically meant I was a rogue. This pack currently thought I was a pup, maybe no older than two winters, and that was a problem. I couldn't speak like everyone else, I never was able to master that. Not only did I struggle with something as easy as breathing to everyone else, I was unable to successfully shift freely. Sure, I could do it, but it wasn't smooth, and it couldn't be accomplished in one go.

I sleepily pawed at my eyes, a big yawn coming. I settled down more comfortably, content on trying to shift the first chance I got. I'd most likely end up spending my nights, writhing in the moonlight as I chased that burn and stretch of a true shift. Might as well get all the rest I could manage then.

With one final eye rub, I laid my head on top my paws and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

-an excerpt from the first chapter of my story First Choice