#that felt so bone-deep and heartfelt and intimate

[psalmsofpsychosis]

........ ...... :/

[raelly-writing]

Into the Abyss

Thancred/fWoL, 5.0 Shadowbringers MSQ level 80 spoilers.

I’ve had this in my drafts for ages, but finally was in a decent enough mental space to finish it up. And now I think I’ll go and write something fluffy.

Passing mention of the tank role questline. :)

AO3 link

----

”Y’shtola, Urianger, I need to know.”

Viana frowned at the elezen scholar where he remained seated on one of the undersea rocks. His head was lowered, whether in thought or to avoid her gaze she did not know. There was a twinge of guilt for the forceful tone she’d taken but this was no time to beat around the bush. Besides, focusing on them was better than letting her gaze stray to the silent, white-clad figure in her periphery that had remained stock still throughout this whole exchange.

Standing next to Urianger, Y’shtola crossed her arms, a disapproving frown of her own on her features. “I will not have you prematurely end your life,“ she responded firmly.

“And I am not planning to,” Viana shot back “But I need to know that you can dispose of me if it comes down to it.” Despite trying not to, her eyes flickered to Thancred for just a second. His head was downturned, hair obscuring his face, but his posture was tense where he leaned against the rock wall. Her chest grew tight, and suddenly it felt hard to speak. Swallowing around the lump in her throat, she returned her attention to Y’shtola and Urianger. “I can’t ask any of you to strike me down - for all we know the Light will just corrupt whoever does it into another Lightwarden.”

As if to remind her, sparks of white suddenly danced at the edges of her vision. She bit back a groan as she closed her eyes, though she already knew it did nothing to lessen the glare of the flashes. “So, tell me, is there a way I could strand myself in the rift where the Light won’t harm anyone?”

“Opening a gate to transport thine there wouldst require preparations,” Urianger’s quiet voice replied. “The Exarch did not share how he planned to accomplish such a feat.”

Prickles of pain skittered up and down her spine, making her muscles tense under the weight of her gunblade and armour chafing against her suddenly hypersensitive skin. Forcing herself to keep her voice steady, she spoke slowly and firmly, “You had days while I lay unconscious.” The dizzying lights danced at the inside of her eyelids, taunting her. For all the things Urianger had concealed, right now she needed that resolve of his to do what was best for the worlds at large. “Don’t tell me you did not think of some way to do what G’raha- the Exarch had planned to do himself, or some other way to subdue me if it came to the worst.”

There was a brief silence. “There… may be some way, yes,” Urianger finally responded. “But I hath not the time to ascertain it to be an assured method to contain the aether thy harbour. If thou truly is able to traverse the Rift to the Source, mayhaps there wouldst be a way to prevent thy from reaching thy destination...”

Gritting her teeth, she nodded. “It’s better than nothing at all.” She wanted to see G’raha rescued, but she could feel the Light grinding away at her very being.

It was disorienting how slow her senses and reflexes were becoming – if they faced more opposition down here in the sea trenches she’d have to let Thancred take the lead in whatever fights there were. Her limbs felt too stiff, as though her skin was already in the process of turning into fine porcelain, and the familiar weight of her gunblade seemed too heavy in her hands.

And it wasn’t just her physical body that was affected. Though she had not said anything to the others, while imbuing some of her cartridges with aether she’d felt like the usually easy task took more effort than usual, like her aether was stagnating. In this state, she’d just be a danger to herself, and more importantly, a hazard to the others if she failed to intercept a blow meant for one of them.

As the flare of pain stilled to a mulling, lingering ache, a numbing, cold sensation of fear flared in her chest in its stead. Would she even be able to see this to the end before whatever Ryne had done to contain the Light failed?

A hand on her arm made her open her eyes to find Y’shtola at her side. Her expression was determined, though Viana had known her long enough to catch the traces of concealed worry in her expression. “Whatever Emet-Selch has in store for us, I for one will fight to see you ridden of this burden, my friend.” She turned her head ever so slightly, glancing back towards Urianger and Thancred. “We all will.”

“I know,” Viana replied quietly. “And I hate asking it of you three…” She sensed the weight of Thancred’s eyes on her then, and swallowed, her throat feeling as dry as if she’d swallowed a mouthful of sand. “But… if I’m turning,” she spoke, slow and firm. Urianger finally looked up and she met his golden gaze. The guilt hung heavily over his features. “I need to know you all will do what is necessary, whatever that may entail. Contain me, seal me away until you can dispose of me.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, but nodded. “Thy will shall be done.”

A small, tired smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you, it eases my mind to know that.”

The sound of the twins’ bickering drifting through the cave made them all glance in the direction of where they and Ryne had gone to scout ahead in the tunnels. It felt wrong to keep this conversation from them, but Twelve, she knew none of them would accept the idea. Y’shtola cast one discerning glance in Thancred’s direction then turned to Urianger. “Let us hear what they’ve found.”

Urianger nodded and got up, but paused for a moment. “I swore to thee that I wouldst see this made right,” he spoke quietly. “Have faith my friend, and we shall prevail.”

“My faith in you all never waver, Urianger,” Viana replied with a small, reassuring smile. There was a flicker of something akin to relief in his expression, and he finally managed a hesitant smile of his own before following Y’shtola to meet the younger members of their group.

As their steps faded away, leaving her alone with Thancred in the small seafloor grotto, he pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against. When she bridged the gap between them with a few slow steps, he glanced up at her. There was a hard determination to his eyes, but there was pain there too.

Reaching out, she took his hand in hers, not sure what to say. Thancred’s fingers were cold where they were left exposed by his gloves - her own were not faring much better - but it was a welcome skin on skin contact before he laced his with hers. The comforting weight of his other arm settled around her waist, hugging her close so he could press his cold nose against the side of her neck. Inhaling slowly, she closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his hair, wrapping her other arm around his shoulders. The scent of salt, fish and seaweed clung to him, but she could detect that earthy, masculine tone, laced with gunpowder, that she associated with him - a comforting reminder of the few private moments they’d been afforded in the past weeks.

“It won’t come to that,” he broke the silence with a gruff murmur. “You will be fine.”

She knew it was as much to reassure himself as her. Unbidden, her thoughts strayed back to that first morning she’d woken to him tracing the scars on her back. Despite the heavy subject it’d sparked, the intimate warmth of that moment, the joy she’d felt just resting in his arms, the tender look in his eyes and heartfelt smile… it was a sharp contrast to the cold that seemed to have seeped so deep into her bones that she wondered if she’d ever feel warm again. Drawing a slow, shuddering breath she squeezed his hand. Had it truly only been a few weeks since then? Would that she somehow could turn back the clock to be back in that moment with him again.

But the path would lead here again no matter what.

A sudden flare of pain made Viana groan as white sparks once more danced behind her eyelids. Vaguely, she was aware of his hand slipping from hers to hold her steady when her knees threatened to give out from under her. It felt like something jagged was logged in her chest, making it hard for her to draw breath.

“Easy there, I’ve got you…” Thancred’s low voice spoke in her ear. Trembling, she tried to focus on him and not the pain or the panic that bubbled right under the surface of it. The searing pain in her chest continued, her breaths pained wheezes while hot tears stung at her eyes and slid down her cheeks.

Thancred kept murmuring into her ear while holding her steady, even as she leaned more and more of her weight onto him. Had he not, she would probably have tumbled to the hard seafloor as she jerked to the side and finally, after a series of rib cracking coughs, spat out more of that viscous white fluid. Nausea curled in her stomach at the cloying, numbing feeling it left in her mouth. It was like having a mouthful of fine, gooey sand in texture.

With a trembling hand, she reached for the water canteen hanging off her belt, but Thancred’s hand was already on the clasp, and pressed the cool metal container into her hand.

“Here,” he spoke as he quickly unscrewed the top.

Choking out her thanks amidst the waves of pain, Viana took a quick mouthful of the water, eager to clear her mouth of the vile liquid. Thancred said nothing, just kept her steady when she leaned to the side and spat out the white-tinted water.

She felt him press a brief kiss to her cheek as he steadied her once more, arms securely wrapped around her. These attacks weren’t getting any easier. Shivering, she cradled the canteen in her hands and rested her head on his shoulder, wishing for the pain to subside.

“Better sit down for a moment,” he said quietly.

Nodding, still with her eyes closed, she let him lead her. White sparks still danced behind her eyelids and there was an unpleasant, crawling sensation at her back, as if her skin was shifting and changing form.

Thancred knelt in front of her as he helped sit down on a low rock, staying there with his arms wrapped around her while murmuring soothing words in her ear to ease her through the waves of pain. She was not used to feeling small, or vulnerable or weak and fragile. Ever since she’d left Ul’dah as a teen she’d been used to shouldering her own problems, to carry on no matter what happened. But as she curled herself around Thancred’s solid frame, there was comfort in not having to hide her quiet whimpers while she kept her face pressed against the crook of his neck, to just allow herself to be held and supported without fear of judgment or pity.

It couldn’t have been more than a minute or two that they sat there, yet it felt like an hour before the white lights and stabs of pain slowly ebbed away once more and her breaths came a bit easier. Awkwardly, she loosened the vice-like grip she had on his coat sleeve, trying to will her hand not to tremble. “Forgive me,” she whispered harshly as she straightened her back.

She felt one of his hands leave her waist to cradle her jaw, keeping her from rising to her full height. “You are not the one I want apologies from,” he replied as he rested his brow to hers.

Despite his soft tone, there was a hard undercurrent to it that betrayed his anger at the situation, and those who had shepherded her towards this destination.

He shifted slightly, his nose nuzzling against hers - a motion that had quickly become familiar to her. The memory of Tesleen turning flashed before her mind’s eye. A hard jolt of fear made her jerk her head to the side before he could kiss her - fear that some of that tainted ichor might still linger on her lips, of somehow passing on the corruption festering within her to him.

Thancred froze, hazel eyes seeking hers.

Tears stung in her eyes while her heart ached for that small bit of intimacy. Blindly, she set the canteen aside and grasped his wrist, pressing a kiss to the back of his fingers, where they were covered by his gloves. “I’m sorry I just… the Light… it corrupts, I don’t…”

“It’s okay,” he whispered, the harsh, jagged edges of regret and sorrow all too clear in his voice. “I understand.”

All of a sudden, she felt cruel. If that argument in Twine had gone differently, if she had not been angry enough to accidentally let slip what she’d hid away in the depth of her heart, then… then perhaps he would not have kissed her and they would have just kept ignoring this that lay between them. Perhaps then he would have an easier time to let go of her, to just mourn her as a friend, rather than something more - forever a ‘what maybe could have been’ instead of something real and tangible, something that felt good, and sweet and right that was cut short by the cruelty of the universe.

A hot tear rolled down her cheek. Death was something she had made peace with a long time ago. Yet, this primordial force that was threatening to break free and twist her very being into something wretched and relentless, it scared her to her very core. It would not be clean, or final. Some part of her would linger, like fragments of a cup that had been shattered against the wall, its contents still barely clinging to the shards.

The mere thought of turning on him and the others made nausea twist and coil in her stomach. Thancred was smart - he must know that it was a very real possibility that he might have to fight her, to buy the others time to contain her were she to suddenly lose control. Even if she knew for sure that striking her down would not corrupt the next person into another Lightwarden, she could not ask that of him. Not after seeing first-hand how that act of putting down a loved one had festered and eaten away at Granson nearly to the brink of ruin.

Regret and grief were such potent emotions.

Drawing a slow, shuddering breath, she closed her eyes. “Thank you, for everything, Thancred,” she whispered. “They’ve been dear to me, these past few weeks.” Would that she had had more time with him.

Thancred moved slightly, slipping his hands from hers to cradle her jaw. His thumbs brushed over her cheekbones as he held her gaze. A turmoil of emotions swirled in his eyes, his brow furrowed and jaw clenched. “I’m not going anywhere yet,” he spoke firmly. “So don’t you dare try to tell me good-bye now. Not when we still have a chance to defeat that Ascian and somehow fix this.” There was a flicker of despair over his features, a momentary crack in his stern facade. “Just don’t.”

Viana blinked at him, then slowly nodded as she swallowed. “You’re right.” When she woke in the Crystarium, she had not planned on quitting, to just go quietly and let whatever Emet-Selch said come to pass. She’d fight for this world, and herself. For Thancred, the twins, Y’shtola, Urianger, Ryne and G’raha. For the Source.

Faint though it was, hope did remain.

A small smile curled the corner of Thancred’s mouth, though it did not reach his eyes. Leaning up, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “There’s that determined look I know so well.”

Huffing out a tired laugh, she nodded. “Alright, let’s do this then.”

Viana gathered up her canteen and returned it to her belt, then stood up on only slightly unsteady legs. Thancred squeezed her hand reassuringly as they left the small grotto to find the others. She’d draw her strength from his support, and that of her friends’, as they pushed onwards, further into the darkness.

[kodzuken-pie]

✿ In your arms ✿

• || Yaku Morisuke x reader || •

Genre : Fluff💕 , Songfic🎶

Song : Arms by Christina Perri

Warnings : none

Word count : 1292

——————————————————————————

The day was long and both you and Yaku were tired to the bone. Today was the last day for you to pack your things for moving day. As you both stood in your now empty living room, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh.

“This is it huh?” Yaku sighed as well.

“Yeah. We’ve been here for so long. There’s so many memories.” You were feeling sentimental already.

“We sure do. This is the first place we moved into before we got married so yeah.” He says looking around.

You put your hand on your chest right on top of your heart, thinking about your wedding day. You look at your left hand and smile at the ring on your finger and you reminisce.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Do you, y/n l/n take Yaku Morisuke as your lawfully wedded husband?” The priest asked, looking at you.

“I do.” You say bearing a heartfelt smile.

“And do you, Yaku Morisuke take y/n l/n as your lawfully wedded wife?” The priest now asked Yaku.

“I do.” He says, eyes watering.

“You may now kiss the bride.” The priest says brightly.

Right at this moment, everything disappeared. It felt like it was just the two of you as you shared one of the most intimate and deepest kisses to claim each other. Now officially husband and wife, you hold each other foreheads touching and eyes locked on to each other.

The moment was disturbed by the applause and cheering of your friends and family. Everyone saying congratulations and teasing was also going around. As you two walk back down the aisle, your hand never left his and he held yours tightly.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“My love?” Yaku disrupts your daydreaming and takes your left hand in his.

You smile sweetly at him, heart racing. He leads you to the bay window and tells you to sit down and rest. You do as he says and lean your head against the window and look up at the night sky.

“Were you thinking about our wedding day again?” He teases. “You know it’s been almost a year since.” This made you look up at him.

His eyes met yours blazing with intense love. This made you grab his hand and force him to sit down next to you. You give him a little kiss on the cheek and smile.

“It’s been that long huh?” You say as you look at your hand in his. “I’m so happy Yaku. I’m so happy I’m with you.” You look at him, tears threatening to fall.

His eyes widened and cheeks flushed red. Holding your hand tighter, he pulls you in for a kiss. A kiss so deep and passionate and sweet. When he pulls away, he rests his head on your shoulder and you rest your head on top of his.

🎶 “ I never thought that you would be the one to hold my heart.” 🎶

You started singing and you put your arms around him holding him tightly as he nuzzles your neck.

🎶 “ But you came around and you knocked me off the ground from the start.” 🎶

You held him tighter and he started singing too.

🎶 “You put your arms around me and I believe that it’s easier for you to let me go, you put your arms around me and I’m home.” 🎶

He places a small kiss on your neck and urges you to continue singing. You sing for him, your song for each other. This song was the song playing on your first date and this was the song you danced to on your wedding day.

You held him closer to your heart as you continued singing. His arms snake around your body to embrace you and he leans in to your chest and listens to your heartbeat. Your voice flowed throughout the apartment, memories flooding in like your love for him. The night he proposed to you was one of these fond memories. He quoted the song before he popped the question right in this very apartment.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Hey love, are you ready?” He asks, poking his head through the bathroom door. “Wow.” He says looking at you and he falls silent.

“Yaku! My outfit was supposed to be a surprise!” You yelled at him, pushing him out the bathroom.

“Sorry love! You look gorgeous, like you always do.” He says as he stands at the doorway.

You open the door and pout at him, he laughs at the gesture and pulls you in for a hug. You take the hug and lean in close, head resting on his chest. His heart was beating fast and this made you curious.

“Lovey? Why are you nervous? It’s not like this is our first date or anything?” You look up at him, curious.

He looks away and his face turns red. “Ah no, it’s just, I don’t know if you’d like the surprise?” His words failed him.

“Whatever the surprise is, wherever it is I’ll love it so you don’t have to be nervous.” You reassure him. “Because I love you Yaku.” You add, his name sounding like a melody.

His eyes widened and they started to get tearful. He lets you go and grabs your hand and he leads you to the living room. You followed along, still curious. He stands you at the center of the room and turns around, facing away from you. He took a deep breath and turned to look at you.

“Y/N, being with you makes me the happiest man alive. You saw right through my walls, you caught me as I was falling. I’ll never let a love so close and whenever you put your arms around me, I feel at home.” He says as he locked his eyes in yours, holding you captive in a sea of light brown.

He took your hand and knelt on one knee. Your heart started racing and tears were about to rush down your face.

“Will you be my other half and complete me?” He asked, holding your hand tight.

You were surprised and speechless. Tears now falling down your face and you felt your love grow, something you thought wasn’t possible but there it was.

“ Yes.” You say, you breath hitching as you answer through sobs.

The look on his face was precious, something that you would keep in your mind forever. The night was perfect and your love for each other grew more and more as each day passes.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

🎶 “You put your arms around me and I’m home.” 🎶

You finish the song not realizing the tears following down your face. He looks up to you, cupping your cheek and pulls you in for another kiss. This one is filled with love and adoration. You return the passion, your hearts beating in unison.

He pulls away and wipes your cheeks. “You don’t understand how you make me feel y/n. The world could end right now but it won’t matter as long as I’m in your arms, I know that I’ll be safe and everything will be alright.” He whispers to you with a soft look on his face.

This made you cry harder, tears now flowing nonstop. He kisses the corners of your eyes and now he is holding you. His warmth reached your heart and you stopped crying. It was quiet for a moment and it felt peaceful.

“Let’s make more memories, you and I.” You broke the silence and snuggled against his chest. “My feelings for you will never wither. My heart will always be filled with love for you and you only. You are my forever Yaku Morisuke.” You added.

“You are my forever too, y/n Morisuke. I will never let you go.”

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[veridium]

Bonus Episode

The morning of their departure for Adamant Fortress compels Inquisitor Theia Trevelyan to practice some of her most intimate rituals in preparation for violence and battle. As she does so, her love and colleague Josephine discovers a side of the Inquisitor she has kept to herself: who she was in the days of the rebellion, and what yet lingers in her life and soul from such tumult. 

If a morning dawn could conspire to have as many colors as it could during one sunrise, that would be the morning of the Inquisition’s departure for Adamant Fortress.

Blues, purples, reds, and oranges water-colored the horizon, and Theia was witness to every fluctuation of every hue. She sat on the ground of her balcony, the cold stone underneath her bare thighs, exposed by the gathering of her night dress skirt so as to sit with her legs criss-crossed. This was the morning a warrior Mage would desire to see, if it were to be her last.

In front of her was a small wooden bowl, artisan-made and modest in design: the etches on the side were of Free Marches origin. It was one of the few small objects she had maintained in her possession since they went on the rogue during the rebellion. She remembered how she carried her small possessions -- what Olivia would call her “estate” in reaction to her protectiveness of it all -- in a dirty cotton nap-sack over her shoulder. A bowl, a knife, some medicinal herbs, and a jar of wax that could be heated over a campfire and used for various tasks, like leaving notes for fellow wayward Mages to find -- notes full of intel, like where the nearest water source was, where the Templars were stationed, or what villagers to trust and not trust. Theia always insisted on a paper trail wherever they went.

But, nowadays, paper, wax, and herbs were in abundant reach. But, on days such as this, she still found a use for her bowl and incense herbs.

Ceremoniously, she had gone out to the balcony as the first shades of daylight began to show. Sitting on the ground, she lit the herbs with a soft flicker of fire from her palm, and as they began to smolder, the blew lightly to encourage the burn. Then, placing them in the bowl, the stream of incense and smoke reached up into her face and chest. She placed her hands on her lap and closed her eyes, quieting her thoughts and engaging with the core of her body, the core of her powers.

Soon, the visualizations of her surroundings faded away. She stopped feeling the stone floor and the morning air, as she became enveloped in the raw energy of her body. It was like oscillating currents: centering her storm energy, she felt the static brew from the tips of her fingers and toes, up into her shoulders and thighs, meeting in her abdomen. Then, within her mind, she reached her hands towards the hearth of the ice within her soul, and felt the concert of cool air and rigid cascades of ice and frost in her hair and down her neck. It felt like goosebumps, but hungrier.

In her mind’s eye she then turned to look over her shoulder, feeling warmth on her cheek as she sought congress with the fire now. It was more raw, less accustomed to her devotion and training, but still strong. The heat, in its own way, was formidable simply because she had left it so untouched and unburdened with restriction. But, it had been kept at a distance. She reached a hand out again, almost asking for it to be appeased with her lack of attention. Ravenous, but patient, she felt it intertwine around her forearm, forgiving.

She grinned with a solemn reassurance.

Mages sought congress with their own selves in many different ways. Some never walked a step without being in conversation with it all, and such people were powerful and capable of balancing their emotions along with the raw momentum of their abilities. Others sought to separate the reactions of their powers from their own, and only when they would figuratively reach out a hand to collaborate would this side of themselves take center stage.

For Theia, her powers were as much a part of herself as any limb of her body or hair strand on her head. She almost recognized it as its own autonomous force, but merely using her body as a conduit of expression. In exchange for such candor, she was able to push her limits more in training. She learned this from her mentor, Lady Faustina, during her days in the Circle. If it weren’t for Faustina, Theia would have been at war with herself perhaps for forever. Having a mentor say it was alright to conjoin emotions and magic, and even healthier to do so, was a life-defining moment for her.

She learned this ritual from her, and she did them before every major battle and major conflict she could. People like Seeker Cassandra and Madame Vivienne, as well as Solas, learned as they traveled with her that on certain nights they could find her in her tent quietly sitting and meditating on the air of incense. Some of them understood more than others, but they all recognized how vital it was for her own soundness of mind and body.

As she felt at last connected with the main triad of her abilities, the all-too-expected disruption in the currents appeared. It was the magic of the anchor, brimming and seething out of place. She had tried many times to understand it, to make it feel more at peace within this captive body, but it wrestled with her. This was not the body of an elf, this was not its desired vessel. Their heritages were in contention with one another, and there seemed to be no hope of reconciliation. Still, in a way, Theia felt almost as if the anchor pitied her. She didn’t know whether to feel thankful or fearful at that intuitive observation.

She took another deep inhale, her lungs filling with a deep aroma of flowers and stems burning.

Just continue this path with me, is all I ask. I can fend for myself.

The anchor’s temper calmed, and with it the green glowing she saw in her closed eyes dissipated, going back to the locale it had occupied in her body and soul. It re-centered itself, and she was contented once more, for the time being. For now, Shemlen. For now.

Her shoulders rolled back and framed her straight and confident posture. Her braid of hair resting over her right shoulder.

She hadn’t noticed, of course, but someone had been watching her for several minutes after waking up alone. The person watched with a soft curiosity, having wrapped her naked body in one of the linen sheets of the bed. Her raven black hair was messy and knotted, but it looked positively beautiful in its tousled curls. She leaned against the archway wall; what was originally instinctual alarm that perhaps Theia had left for the siege without saying goodbye, had given way to heartfelt adoration. This was the first time she had caught the Inquisitor during one of her most intimate ritual practices. Theia never ever tore herself away in order to do such things when they slept together, even the night before Emprise du Lion. As she watched in quiet stillness, she wondered why.

Then, Theia began speaking out loud, and her thoughts silenced themselves out of fear of being too loud.

“We battle like warriors,

Avenge like wolves,

Love like the sea of Amaranthine.

Angry like the storm,

Our blood seethes

Until our justice is yours and mine.

Come to me sisters

In the killing of lesser men,

We drink to their downfall,

And dance to our blessed rise.

For your strength is my bone,

Your oppression my armor,

Your grief my staff blade edge,

And for your protection, I pine.

Guide my hands in war,

And my heart in forgiveness.

For tonight, we fight like Kings

And take to the bed of their Queens.”

The words sent chills down Josephine’s spine as she heard Theia’s lamentation. It sounded like something you would promise before drinking from a chalice or slicing a vein open for a blood oath. Something more powerful than any treaty or contract: the commitment of one’s heart and soul.

A moment passed, and Theia let out a deep exhale of release. Her eyes open, the rich purple emboldened by her consortium with her powers. They glowed with ferocity as she looked down at the herbs, their smoke waning.

“You know, I would have invited you if I wished you to witness my radical Mage rituals,” Theia hummed in a calm monotone, reaching and grabbing the bowl, cupping it with one hand as she stomped out the rest of the burning embers.

Josephine felt her stomach drop, fearing she had done something terribly wrong. She stepped away from the wall and grasped at the sheet wrapped around her body.

“Forgive me, Theia, I was only concerned when I woke up without you. I feared you had left.”

Theia looked ahead as she listened to her response. She grinned with compassion, not meaning to come off as angry.

“It’s alright, Josephine. I just...am not used to having an audience is all. It wasn’t my intention to scare you,” she rose to her feet, turning around and facing her. She tried her best to have a facial expression that was compassionate enough to soothe Josephine’s nerves.

Josephine, meanwhile, anxiously rolled her shoulders as her lover’s eyes met with her own.

“Does this mean I cannot ask what the purpose of this practice is?” she asked with shyness.

“You can, if you know the right way to ask,” Theia retorted, walking past her towards her desk, setting the bowl down on it. Josephine’s shoulders turned as her gaze followed her movements.

“How do I, then?”

“Ask what the Fox hunts for.”

“What does that refer to?”

“I’ll tell you, if you ask it.”

A pause, while Josephine nervously shifted her weight.

“What...does the fox hunt for?”

Theia turned and leaned against the edge of her desk with her hip. She crossed her arms, letting a sly smile appear.

“The fox hunts for the hunter who steals her meal.”

Josephine couldn’t help but be even more intrigued, but she had no clue what she was talking about, and it was a rare feeling for her, being lost.

“I...I do not know what…”

“My Love, it’s alright. It’s...it’s language from my days during the rebellion. Me and my group, we had certain...routines. We developed them while we were in the Circle, but then when things changed, we relied upon them for more than just comfort. The oath I recited, we would say at night before we would go hunting, or when we anticipated battle with Templars or bandits. It’s a sort of rally call, so-to-speak. We would chant it together; it was the only chant we revered as much as any Andrastian would revere their own.”

“It...sounds like you desired vengeance a great deal.”

“Would you blame us? We were hunted like bush animals. Survival meant...harnessing something more carnal, more animalistic, in a sense. I was not always proud of my actions, but, I will never regret them with the knowledge of what endangered us all. It kept us alive.”

“You scarcely discuss your life in the rebellion. I suppose I pictured it different,” Josephine took a couple steps closer.

“Not everything the Templars do are within the confines of duty and integrity,” Theia’s tone was cold, reminiscent of a time when her soul was hardened.

“I did not mean to imply that, I am just not used to seeing this side of your demeanor.”

“I understand, trust me, I am not offended. It’s just interesting, sharing it with someone else, someone who isn’t also trying to survive.”

Theia saw that Josephine was still feeling uncomfortable. She stepped away from the desk and approached her, taking light hold of one of her hands.

“So, what does the fox refer to?” Josephine’s curiosity was very robust.

“The fox was one of our codes to refer to ourselves or each other. Instead of saying mage or woman, we would discuss movements of foxes, birds, wolves. Like, for example, if I was to tell my comrade that I saw what looked like a Mage traveling alone with the Templars on her heels, I would say the “Fox hunts in territory where she is just as easily the prey of wolves.” Then, we could go find her, or try to cut off the Templar pursuit.”

“You sound like vigilantes, or mercenaries.”

“We were a mix of both, I could say. It was a way of keeping our identities as secret as possible.”

“How did you maintain that, given you walked with staffs?”

“We stashed them when we had to, and relied upon the magic in our bodies. One person would be tasked with guarding the stash while the rest of us would do recon, or get supplies from a nearby village.”

Josephine walked over to the couch by the fire, the sheet trailing behind her slightly as she sat down. Theia followed her, taking her place beside her, elbows resting on her knees.

“Why are you opening up so easily now, after all this time?” Josephine asked another question.

“Perhaps I am nostalgic, as violent and horrific as it was. I miss the women I traveled with most of all, especially on days when I feel alone or I intimidated by an oncoming challenge. I take comfort in the superstition that if I maintain our rituals, somewhere, out there, they feel it and send their strength to me. And, if they do so as well, I lend my strength to them.”

“Where are they now?”

“Olivia is the only one who I know of her location and safety. There was Veronica, Rosalyn, and Naomi besides us. Veronica took her own path, last I heard she was nestled somewhere in Denerim. We all thought she was foolish to do it, but, she has family there. Rosalyn wanted to be a part of the action, and she left to find her battles and get her vengeance. I don’t know if she’s alive or not, but, that is not a promising detail. Naomi wanted to be a healer, and help the downtrodden, so when we found a village that had taken on refugees she stayed to assist. I returned to Ostwick, looking for survivors, any of my mentors, hoping I could help rebuild some of the security we had lost. I don’t know why, but, after seeing all I had seen, it was as if something trained into me told me to do it. I returned and found my mentor, Lady Faustina, in hiding. She and two other colleagues sent me to the Conclave using the remaining clout they had, and that is how I ended up at the Temple.”

Josephine listened with intention and care. This life she led, it seemed to pose more questions than answers with every divulged detail. Why did her and her friends go on the run? What did they hope to accomplish? Who was she when she was a Circle Mage?

But, as Theia looked at her, and she saw the ache in her eyes as she re-lived it, and she knew it would take time.

“Theia, I cannot possibly know how difficult those times were for you, but I hope you know just how much you inspire me.”

“Inspire you?”

Josephine bit her lip slightly. “Yes. You have had to live through some of the most unthinkable experiences, and even though you have not opened up to me as much as I would hope you could, I know that it is because you carry these memories with a steeled will and heart. Your protectiveness is hard-won and trained. I respect your abilities, and not just those you derive from magic,” her hand went and rested on Theia’s thigh.

Theia’s chin tilted with intrigue. “Even with the tumult of the Mage Rebellion being the topic of disdain and hatred for all of Orlesian nobility?”

“Someone who has a true commitment to an earnest and integral political constitution extends understanding to all sides of a conflict before passing judgment.”

“If only the Templars and the Chantry would practice such mediation.”

Josephine’s face tensed with soreness. These institutions helped define her power and notoriety, but she was no fool. She knew when they misstep, and when they intentionally strode beyond boundaries of decency.

“My dear, you are doing it again,” Theia’s voice cooed as she took hold of Josephine’s hand and pulled her to her. Josephine shook her head and leaned into her shoulder, resting her cheek.

“I deserve to overthink occasionally, mi amor,” she muttered back.

“I will tell you more stories, you must give me time. It is still all fresh in my heart.”

“I understand, truly, I just wish you always remember that you can do so.”

Theia’s arm around her shoulder gripped more snuggly, and she put her lips to Josephine’s hair.

“You fill my life with new rituals, ones that comfort my heart instead of priming me for loss and pain. Forgive me if I wish to relish in them and keep ones from a different time for my own sentimentalities.”

For a moment, it was as if no battle awaited her. No marching of troops, no arming. Just them, in this space and time, with their own private ceremonials.

[becausegoodbye]

My Favourite Albums of 2017

You’re supposed to do this before the end of the year, but -- well, maybe you’re not supposed to do it at all. 

Partner - ‘In Search of Lost Time’

I don’t like the concept of ‘guilty pleasures’ in music, but the closest thing to a guilty pleasure I have is probably early Weezer. Nowadays I mostly talk about them as an archetype of 90s softboy misogyny, but at the same time: holy shit those first two albums were great, right? Melodically, they came imbued with this deep sense of pop hooks, and emotionally, they tapped into a potent vein of impotent anger and wasted apathy and sly humour. Partner, from Ontario, seem to agree, which is why they’ve set about conquering that territory on behalf of the queers. ‘In Search of Lost Time’ is an album of queer goofball stoner anthems, and it’s every bit as tight as the best power-pop the 90s ever created. The hooks are there, the humour is there, the sneaky musicality is there, the wild air-guitaring-while-jumping-up-and-down-on-your-bed is there. I’m making it sound like a throwback, but it’s not really; it’s a joyful conquering and flexing and flag-planting. I didn’t have more fun with an album in 2017.

WHY? - ‘Moh Llean’

I don’t even know what to say about this. It’s magnificent, and I don’t feel like I know it at all. It’s like ‘recommending’ someone the Dead Sea Scrolls. Like, yeah, sure man, they’re a good read. Dizzying and dazzling and inscrutable. After a bunch of duds, the band who made Eskimo Snow is finally back, and they sound like they died on a mountain and got reborn as a convocation of eagles. Nothing else sounds like this. Nothing else has the guts.

Adult Mom - ‘Soft Spots’

From the very opening moments of this album, when the soft acoustic strum is coloured in by the autumnal electric lead, I don’t stop swooning. Adult Mom are always pitching these very mild curve balls at you: a song that starts with a dancey backbeat is subverted by folky plink-plucking; a song that starts out as a regretful elegy erupts into a shimmering choral hymn. It’s just a gorgeous album, which I probably ended up spending more time with, all told, than any other album on this list.  

Aminé - ‘Good For You’

The melodic juice on this album, I swear to God. There’s a deadpan humour here, a colourful bounciness, and moments of sincerity that cut right through. It’s one of those albums where, when you go through it looking for favourite tracks, you end up with, like, ten. I keep watching this NPR Tiny Desk concert he did with a five-piece band, and marveling at the springy beauty of these songs.

Milk Teddy - ‘Time Catches Up With Milk Teddy’

Gorgeous and full-throated with pockets full of pennies. This is always what I wanted a Milk Teddy record to sound like, and now it finally does. I keep imagining it as the soundtrack to an Australian-Irish co-production Christmas film: fake snow shot on Super 8, a pile of wet scarves piled by the door. This isn’t a ‘uniquely Australian’ album; it’s just a unique album, made by an utterly unique band, and its deep Australianness is all the stronger for not being forced. My record player sits by a window. When I put on Time Catches Up With Milk Teddy, I always open the window to let the city listen. 

Rostam - ‘Half Light’

At first, I thought this album was pretty thin. Some nice melodies, some interesting textures, but not really all that much to it other than as a musicographical puzzle-piece, allowing us to see what Rostam Batmanglij had brought to Vampire Weekend over the years. But then I just kept wanting to listen to it. I kept going on walks at sunset just to listen to it. I kept swaying to the strings and gulping down the hurried mumbled lyrics. It kept stopping my scroll, and closing my eyes. I was wrong -- this is a special album. 

Florist - ‘If Blue Could Be Happiness’

I feel like as I get older, what I want from music is becoming more simple. I want to be calmed, I want to be held, I want to be rivered. This is an album of simple touch, of dusting brush. It’s filled with earnest truths, whispered under doona covers. It’s beautiful and kind, and a place to hide. 

Aldous Harding - ‘Party’

I find it too distracting to do anything else while this album is playing. I always have to stop what I’m doing, and sit there balancing on the quaver in her voice. Sinking in the seas between her fingers. Aldous Harding’s music is intimate and ghostly and beautiful and stark. She has a cannibal’s sense of humour, and a queen’s bearing. She’s operating at like seven different levels. She’s whiskey poured from a gun in a dive-bar in heaven.

Coma Cinema - ‘Loss Memory’

The final album from one of my favourite projects of recent years. A lonely, fragile-boned collection of bedroom-pop, bound in gauze and blinking at the stars. Every single song has at least one lyric that makes me ache, at least one instrumental layer that makes me tingle, and a terrible sadness that makes me quiet. It’s plainspoken, heartfelt, and perfect. I hope he’s okay. 

Mount Eerie - ‘A Crow Looked At Me’

I’m not going to say anything about this. I can’t. Here: 

"Written and recorded August 31st to Dec. 6th, 2016 in the same room where Geneviève died, using mostly her instruments, her guitar, her bass, her pick, her amp, her old family accordion, writing the words on her paper, looking out the same window. 

Why share this much? Why open up like this? Why tell you, stranger, about these personal moments, the devastation and the hanging love? Our little family bubble was so sacred for so long. We carefully held it behind a curtain of privacy when we’d go out and do our art and music selves, too special to share, especially in our hyper-shared imbalanced times. Then we had a baby and this barrier felt even more important. (I still don’t want to tell you our daughter’s name.) Then in May 2015 they told us Geneviève had a surprise bad cancer, advanced pancreatic, and the ground opened up. What matters now? we thought. Then on July 9th 2016 she died at home and I belonged to nobody anymore. My internal moments felt like public property. The idea that I could have a self or personal preferences or songs eroded down into an absurd old idea leftover from a more self-indulgent time before I was a hospital-driver, a caregiver, a child-raiser, a griever. I am open now, and these songs poured out quickly in the fall, watching the days grey over and watching the neighbors across the alley tear down and rebuild their house. I make these songs and put them out into the world just to multiply my voice saying that I love her. I want it known. 

"Death Is Real" could be the name of this album. These cold mechanics of sickness and loss are real and inescapable, and can bring an alienating, detached sharpness. But it is not the thing I want to remember. A crow did look at me. There is an echo of Geneviève that still rings, a reminder of the love and infinity beneath all of this obliteration. That’s why. - Phil Elverum”

[punk-in-docs]

You Were Always Mine, Chapter 12

AU Tom Hiddleston - Romantic, Historical Romance, Victorian Fic. 
Based off the imagine; ‘Thomas spying on you after your divorce and doing anything to get you back. Including threatening your new beau.’ credits go to the lovely ladies at Tom-Hiddleston-Imagine.Tumblr.com. Link to the imagine here…. http://tom-hiddleston-imagines.tumblr.com/post/158156795440/gif-lokihiddleston-imagine-thomas-spying-on-you
 Chapter number: Chapter 12 Author: Punk-in-docs Triggers/warnings: smut! And angst.

~

“Do you think…”

Thomas asked, his coarse, rough, morning voice grating against her ears like gravel. They had shared another exquisite night abed last night, and were consequently naked as a result. She felt his warm, inventors fingers slide along her shoulder. His lips joining to her silken skin not long after. Kissing over one of his favourite moles that pocked her pale body.

“… That because of the strict social times we find ourselves in. Miss James. When a single man can’t so much as touch a single woman. That our sheer, overwhelming need to make love, quite as often as we have done, is fuelled by a deeper, more salacious desire to be all the more promiscuous?” He enquires.

She chuckles sleepily. Opening her eyes to her sun drenched bedroom, to peer across at him over her shoulder. He lay behind her. His hips keenly pressing his lower body into her own. She shuffles round, he lifts his arms to tuck her into his pale chest. He smelt like sleepy bed sheets, and the musk of male sweat. He enclosed his arms about her. Pulling her so they were pressed skin to skin.

“Yes. Dear heart. Why don’t you know, It’s the only reason I allowed you in my bed.” Vianne teases with that fabulous, cheeky smile he adored seeing. He can’t help it. He smiles too at the sight of her own. His hands slides under the covers, down over her hip, and squeezes the fleshy globe of her rear.

“Cruel, vixen, woman.” He smiles, not taking his eyes off her. His eyes creasing at the sides with the force of his smile.

“I think we keep on ending up in each other arms, and bed sheets, because you and I both know it’s inevitable that we should do so.” She adds. “It’s astonishing to me how very right it feels.” She tells him.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t always so. You’ve no idea. Vianne I will regret not being a good husband to you for the rest of my life.” He tells her earnestly. Guilt drowning those expressive eyes. As he stroked a pretty coil of hair back past her cheek.

“From that very first Sharpe kiss. Stood on my doorstep, in the pouring rain. I was condemned.” She explains to him. That made his heart hurt. Because how had it escaped his notice she was besotted, body and soul with him, and he barely gave her any indication that he returned those feelings.

“Oh, my love…” He sighs. Taking her face in his hands.

“I… Back at Allerdale. Even when we were alone. I could never seem to, fully, disclose how I felt. Because I was certain the walls had ears… Now I am relieved of that, burden. Let me make it evidently clear. Vianne. Before you, I felt like my life was rehearsed. Ball after ball, flattering girl after girl. Doing nothing more than being a vessel for Lucille’s greed and monetary needs. She kept saying to me, "this one will be the last. Then it can be us, for eternity. Just love and death.” But I couldn’t… Would not, let her get to you. I tried with all my might… But then you….left anyway.“ He explained.

It was her turn to feel rotten. Here he was pouring out his heart. And she still hadn’t told him about the contents of her own. She so badly wanted to let them loose.

"Well. I’m sorry there had to be such tragedy and heartbreak on our routes back to one another.” She swallows.

Their intimate, pillow talk made all the more heartfelt. As they lay in one another’s arms. Bare and vulnerable. And they had both been as such, many times before. Brutalised by his family and suffocated by his sister. And she, orphaned as a small child, and then thrown, after her heartache, at the mercy of a man who broke her bones, bruised her, and beat her. In their separate ways, they had both been battered, and mangled by life, and love.

“I’m not.” Thomas tells her. Still stroking her coppery hair. Admiring her.

Being free of his biggest demon two years ago, had liberated so many things for him. Of course, in his anger and rage, he had completely put aside the love he previously had for his sister. He could only focus on all the horrible things she’d made him suffer through. The murders. The grief. The rage. He was dangerously fed up of living under her iron fist. And then along came this red haired, saviour. Vianne was a godsend in more ways that one. She was his salvation. And she had saved him. She’d made him see what true love, caring, and nurturing was. Being with her was the first time he felt like his life wasn’t shrouded in cold shadow.

She sighs. Pressing a kiss to his hand. She could see sometimes. A sadness flare in his eyes. He had lost one woman he loved to gain another. And no matter how horrid the circumstance was, it was bound to have a deeper hold on him than he let on.

She wants to tell him. But somehow, now didn’t seem like the right time…. In her gut she knows she’d feel down to the very narrow of her bones. when the right time was. She didn’t want to spoil this moment.

“When do you need to leave for work?” She asks.

The sun had only just risen. But it was full and bright. And promised the day would be a happy one. He had mentioned last night that he needed to make a call in at the office. Check the yard was running along without him. His office was installed in a large factory come foundry in Richmond.

“I’ll go before eight. If I can stomach tearing away from such a naked beauty.” He smiles.

Vianne was biting the bullet. She knows she had to try and tell him somehow. And her courage flares.

“Well… Why don’t I come and relieve you of a lonely lunch hour? I haven’t got to help Harriden until this afternoon. We could…go for afternoon tea if you cared for it?” She asks. Her brain tells her that Saint Anthony’s was virtually five streets over from Thomas’s factory workplace. Could she stomach taking him there? Letting him know the truth?

“I’d adore that. You be careful though.” He warns her. “Start flaunting that beautiful face and figure on the factory floor, I could quite rightly have mutiny on my hands from my workers.” He flatters, winking at her.

She laughs at his honeyed words. He always did have a silver tongue. And he always found ways to put it to good use.

“I thought gentleman of your calibre, Mr. Sharpe, only flattered women, in order to get them into situations much like the ones we presently find ourselves in. Now, your gallantry seems rather superfluous. Does it not?” She teases.

“There is a beautifully naked woman in my arms. Miss James. Whom I made come undone, screaming my name the whole night through. I flatter her when I see fit. Naked or not.” He lusts, his eyes growing dark.

Before she can point out that he would be late for work should he carry on. Her eyes flutter back in her head, and she sighs wantonly as his lips find that certain spot on her neck. He feels her body shiver, his blood ran hot and his ardour started to stir.

He doesn’t have time to be gentle with her. Not this morning. He flattens her on her back, harshly grabbing her hands and pinning them up over her head. Making her supple curves arch up, exposed, prostrate under him as he asserts himself between her split thighs. Those predatory eyes rake over her body. Over her pert nipples, and her heaving chest. He’s assessing her like he wants to swallow her whole.

“Thomas…” She gasps softly. Her voice hoarse with lust and he’d barely even started yet. He trailed his lips over the pulse point in her neck. Feeling it thrum against his lips. Smirking as he felt it. Quickening. Like a carnivore would sense it’s preys pulse erratic in it’s fear.

“You keep your hands where I’ve put them.”

He tells her firmly. She nods. Complying. Eager for his next move. Retracting both hands, he skims down to her ribs, and his mouth swoops down to capture a rosy peak in his hot mouth. His tongue toys with it. Driving her to distraction. Making her buck and writhe, and her head thrown back, exposing that long neck. He feels her toes curling against the sides of his thighs.

His head travels lower. Leading kisses down the centre of her body. Not stopping. Even when he got to her sweet cleft. He trails his fingertips through her dark thatch of hair. She gasps shakily again. Trying hard to obey his wishes. She moans gutturally. Clutching her hands, hard, into the pillow behind her head. Biting down her lip.

He kisses her. Right at the very heart of her womanhood. A jolt of longing tears through her body. He liked toying with his belongings, did Thomas Sharpe. Her moans were music to his ears.

More so when his notorious silver tongue lapped and lapped at her, coaxing pleasure to flutter through her veins. Bursting through her body like tidal waves. Her back arches, and she cannot believe the carnality of the sounds, moans, that they are both making. He groaned as he dragged his lips across her, and stroked two long fingers to plunge deep inside her. Keeping his mouth on that little pearl of pleasure. Her sex sucked ravenously at his appendages. And through strands of that wild raven hair, he looked up, seeing her strain against his ministrations. She was crying out gods name, closely mingled with his own.

She looked so beautiful. Breathtakingly so, when he was pleasuring her. A sight he could watch for eternity. Her face contorted in a soundless cry of ecstasy. Her body shuddering as her legs wrapped around his shoulders, urging him closer.

He can’t take it. She was eager for more. And he ached to give it. He has to be inside her. He snatches himself away from her with a snarl, and one hand presses open her right thigh, he guides himself to her wet sex, and drives in deep with one push of his hips. Their bodies slap together, and his mouth crashes down to her own.

He allows her hands to move now. Especially as those small, dainty things grapple for his shoulders, the sting of her nails biting into his back urges him on. He growls against her neck. Plunging himself deeper into her velvet heat. His free hand, that didn’t clutch at her breast, folded her thigh up and over his hip. She can feel their pelvises gyrate, matching the speed of the other. Their bodies flush with heat, the sensation of one another’s weight and skin only fuelling the raging desire. His teeth dig into her neck, nibbling at her delectable skin.

“Everytime I touch you. God. Even when I’m inside you, still making love to you…” He groans. “All I can think… Is that I want more… ” He moans, bucking his hips faster. Seeing her groan as she clutched at him harder. Her dark blue eyes taking in the sight of him as they made love. That primal, dark lust in his eyes as he gave them both pleasure.

“You have me. All of me… Oh god. Thomas…you have me…” She sighs. He watches her bite her lip. And that almost makes him come undone.

But he can’t. Not yet. He helps her along. Rubbing his thumb in pressing circles around that tight pearl that makes her shout loudly. But when her legs start to shiver again. He knows he’s doing something right.

The pleasure comes to a urgent peak. He grabs her hips, and slams into her hard. Adoring the sounds of their bodies as they entwined sharply. Slapping together. He takes her face in his hands, and kisses her. They groan into each other’s mouths. Shouting and muffling their release. Coming powerfully undone together.

When he finishes coaxing out every, single, ounce of pleasure he could wring from their encounter. Panting, he leans over her. Resting his forehead on her shoulder. Kissing her dewy skin.

“Careful. Or you’ll be late for work… My dear. The boss can’t be seen to be unpunctual.” Vianne sighs. Raking a hand through his onyx hair.

He gathers her closer, if that was even possible. Cupping her head. He kisses her again. Deeply. His thumb stroking over her ear and jaw. The way he held her so possessively made her feel safe, adored and desired.

“I can be as unpunctual as I like. With this beauty in my arms. There’s a danger I may never be on time, ever again.” He winks.

~

Whether he parted from Vianne. He felt as if he were leaving a part of his heart behind. But the thought of returning to her soon, put a spring back in his step. He strode proudly off the the Richmond factory that morning after bedding his beautiful ex-wife.

As soon as he stepped foot across the factory threshold, he is plunged straight back into the world of mechanics and engineering. Of pistons, the scent of motor oil, frayed fan belts, head gaskets and manifolds. His mind turning from leisure to industry. He strides to his workshop slash office, and before he can even set down his briefcase in the desk, he is roped into helping on the factory floor.

His day passes quickly in a blur of dynamics and difficult machinery. At one point, he is on his back, under the stubborn contraption he invented, swearing the cursed thing into either oblivion, or working order.

His white shirt sleeves were rolled up, and this leaves him in a black waistcoat and breeches. He was virtually up to his elbows in grease and muck. Trying in vain to fix a loose, misbehaving, spur gear that had come off it’s tracks, with a dial calliper. He was wincing up at the machine. Muttering little pleas to god that it would work after his interference.

“Come on, you bloody nuisance…” He talks encouragingly up to it. Hearing the clatter and bustle of the factory floor going on around him. But he didn’t hear the sound if a pair of heels heading his way.

“What’s that old saying?…” Comes a sweet, silvery voice that he instantly recognised. It makes him grin instantly. He couldn’t see the source of such a lovely voice. As he currently had his head halfway under the main bulk of his life’s work. But when he ducks his head out, he sees his biggest, most beautiful distraction beaming down at him.

Copper hair perfectly coiffed in a chignon. Kitted out in a blue velvet dress, and navy drop sleeved jacket. With diamond droplet earrings dangling from her lobes, and a dark bowler hat perched over her eyes, pinned to sit low on her hair. Looking as gorgeous as ever.

“… It’s either, a bad workman blames his tools. Or, that one about speaking to inanimate objects kindly, and treating things how you want to be treated yourself…” She grins. Folding her gloved hands as she leaned against the nearest, safest, table.

Looking over her shoulder, at the intricate blueprints spread out behind her. Pinned to the surface with dividers, compasses and scale rules. The blueprints looked terribly beyond her comprehension. That were engineers of a different sort. He of machinery. She of anatomy. Both were detailed trades.

He groans, and the sound takes her back to that morning, when they were abed. But he then heaved himself up from under the thing, into his feet. His clothes flecked with dust and muck. His hands were slathered all over in engine grease. And he even had a smudge if it on his forehead. But he had that determined, steadfast glow of a man who looked as though he very much enjoyed his profession. Which he knows he did beyond all doubt.

He daggers a glance around him. Seeing that a few pairs of male eyes were remaining fixed on her. The rare sight of a beautiful woman on the factory floor. In amongst the muck, grime and incessant whirring of machinery. It was no place for a gentle woman. But Vianne looked right at ease, and at home, by her lovers side.

“Well. Kind words will be wasted, on this shrewish machine. She’s as stubborn as anything I’ve known.” He tells. Reaching behind her for a rag on which he wiped his hands.

She blushed when she thought of what those hands had done to her that very morning. He saw it also. When he leaned in close. He could smell the alluring french perfume on her neck. It clung to her bed sheets too, he noticed, and after he made love to her, he could sense it lingering on his skin too. It was intoxicating.

After he did clean his hands, he took hers, and kissed it.

“You. Are the most inciting lunch break from work I’ve had in a very long while.” He smiles. Winking at her in a lusting way. That was when he noticed she had a hamper slung to the crook of one elbow.

“May I enquire as to the occasion?” He asks. Nodding to the wicker basket. Still wiping his hands. Grease was, literally, slippery customer of which to rid himself of. She smiles. Lugging the basket further up onto her hip.

“Our luncheon. Is the occasion. And I hope you have an appetite. Hot, homemade chicken pot pie. All the trimmings. Buttered potatoes, cabbage. And two bottles of ginger ale, with Jeanie’s excellent Chester pudding if that doesn’t satisfy your hunger.” She tells. He wasn’t even hungry, but after hearing that list. He was suddenly famished and his mouth watered.

He leaned closer to her then. His smile growing completely wicked.

“Depends. To which hunger of mine are you referring?” He asks slyly.

“The culinary kind.” She smiles back. Equally as flirtatiously. He steps away before he causes outrage and scandal. They saved that for behind closed doors. He grabbed his jacket, and leads her through to his office. Closed off from the floor by a wall of windows. He opens the door for her, letting her pass through. She smiles at the scene before her. Even if no one told her this was his office, she’d know it from the personal touches alone.

It was unorganised, a little cluttered. But stuffed to the brim with half finished inventions made from a brilliant, kind mind. Tiny metal creations, contraptions and half finished toys. Littering the shelves, or clumsily collapsing to heaps on his desk. There is a worn, expensive scarlet wool rug on the floor, the fire burns merrily, as does the oil lamp on the desk. The walls were a washed shade if midnight blue. Crammed with framed blueprints and maps. And a homage to Isambard Brunel in one frame.

She places the hamper on the desk, and takes off her gloves. Thomas shuts the door behind them. Coming up behind her, he sweeps a coil of her hair aside, and presses a kiss to the join of her neck, and spine. Closing his eyes. Humming in bliss.

“Despicable. Mr. Sharpe. People may see us…” She worries, looking outside the windows to the factory floor. Biting let lip as she feels his on her skin.

“Get your coat off. Miss James. I’ll unpack the food.” He promises, moving around her as she peels off her outer layers in the welcome warmth of his office. He unlatched the lid, diving in for the warmed pies and all the trimmings.

She un-pins her hat, and lays it on his desk. Rounding it to have a closer look at the pictures on his wall. Her hands on her hips as she examines them curiously. Tilting her head. Thomas watches her being inquisitive. Smiling at her for that trait he so adored and admired. When she turns back, something on his desk made her halt in her tracks. There were two silver picture frames on his desk. And she was in the both of them.

One was a wedding photo. Both him and her, side by side in wedding attire. Stood at that chapel in Gretna green. And the other, was simply her. A portrait. Black and white, she was elegantly posed. Her hair coiffed, and wearing a fine high collared dress. That spears warmth right into her very heart. Thomas looks up. Seeing her admire the pictures. One hand gingerly reaching up to touch the top of one of the oval frames. He sighs a smile.

“None of…. Your family?” She asks softly. He knew full well she meant Lucille. She just couldn’t bring herself to say it. And he didn’t blame her.

“They aren’t the ones I missed.” He tells her. Smiling gently.

She has to tell him. She had to tell him now. She was waiting for the right moment. And this was it. She’d never forgive herself if she didn’t take it. Grab it tight and take that risk. It was too great to let it pass gently.

“Thomas… I’ve . There’s been something… on my mind now for… Quite a while. And it’s…” She stammers. Wringing her hands together, nervously.

He blinks. Tilting his head to urge her on. But when she opens her mouth. A sharp rattling knock to the door cuts her off. She blinks. Jarring out of the moment as Thomas, frowned apologetically, and went for the door handle. A worker gave his apologies for his interruption. But told Thomas something brief about a frayed belt and a loose gear shaft.

He turned back to her, leaning close. Kissing her solidly on the lips as he cupped her head.

“I’m so sorry. You can start without me if your hungry. I just have to see to this urgent matter…” He smiles. Kissing her hand, before he slides away. Off onto the floor, away to fix and tend to things.

Vianne watched him go. She sighs. Heavily. She wished she could mend things as readily, as adeptly as he could. As it was, the moment, yet again. Had slipped right through her fingers.

~

@frenchfrostpudding @heavymist @totallynotasmutblog enjoy ladies 😘

[misssophiachase]

Prompt: some of my favorite seconds on this earth are the seconds filled with my lips spilled upon you're collarbone and my hair nestled into you're fist - CP Klaroline

Thank you to such a lovely lady, what a beautiful prompt (pretty sure you should be writing yourself with this vivid description). I hope I did this mini drabble some justice. Points of view will alternate but only slightly. All lyrics from one of my fave songs by Crowded House.

Fall at Your Feet

I’m really close tonight and I feel like I’m moving inside her…

The moonlight spilled into the room through the open window, casting silver shadows upon her soft skin. Klaus was in awe as he ran his fingers over them slowly, relishing in her beauty, pinned tightly beneath him. Her golden waves were splayed across the pillow, those blue eyes clouded with unmistakeable lust and her creamy neck was beckoning for his touch.

Lying in the dark, and I think that I’m beginning to know her…

Immediately his crimson lips were on her, hungrily caressing the length of her neck causing her to moan in his ear only spurring him on further. Klaus continued his journey nipping her skin playfully, her legs now winding their way around his lower back. Klaus dropped his head lower, trailing kisses along her collar bone and moving dangerously close to the swell of her breast. Her hands were lodged in his curls now, massaging them deeply as she writhed beneath him.

It was that moment which struck him, Klaus knew this was all he ever needed even if it was just for a few brief seconds of happiness with her in his arms. If that was all he had then Klaus considered himself the luckiest hybrid in the world.

Let it go, I’ll be there when you call…

Klaus woke with a start, like he did most nights she haunted his dreams. They always felt so real, so much so that Klaus thought she was lying in his bed and he could actually smell the sweet perfume he’d committed to memory. The sad realisation he felt was immense. He figured that one morning he’d know it was all just a dream but Caroline Forbes had that tendency to stir even the smallest glimmer of hope within the darkest depths of his soul, even if he hadn’t seen her in years.

He loved her, that much was clear from the first moment he laid eyes on her but Klaus hadn’t expected just how much she’d effect him, until he was imprisoned. She’d become his saviour, the one who’d got him through those long and torturous days. The disappointment of not having her there was far outweighed by the comfort and much needed solace she provided when all he wanted to do was give up and die. He could just imagine her telling him to fight back and stop being such a baby, he was an Original Hybrid after all. He could see her expressive blue eyes rolling in his direction as she said it.

As it turned out she’d been his saving grace and here he was returned as the rightful King of New Orleans. As much as the power and glory had surpassed anything else before, Klaus couldn’t help but feel that there was something significant missing from his life. Her. Caroline Forbes. His blonde angel.

When Alaric had visited New Orleans unexpectedly and informed him about Caroline’s new direction, Klaus wasn’t surprised. He knew she would do something great and noble for others. Klaus had sat at his desk that night torn about whether to send the letter. Everything he’d written was heartfelt and sincere (even if his however long it takes comment was slightly self indulgent) and the cheque he’d donated was well deserved.

Klaus sent her that cheque ten days ago, not that he was counting or expected to hear anything but he’d be lying if he wasn’t desperate for a glimpse of Caroline, even if it was brief. He’d entertained visiting Mystic Falls but knew he needed to keep his space. He’d wait, hoping that she might call one day, it was all Klaus could hope.

And whenever I fall at your feet…

Caroline had planned on unceremoniously throwing back his cheque but once she ascended the stairs and entered his bedroom that plan flew straight out the open window. Bare chested and lying splayed out on the king sized bed she immediately faltered. Partial nudity wasn’t in her brief. When Kol had gestured upstairs this was the last thing she imagined happening. She really shouldn’t have been surprised the cheekiest Mikaelson had sent her into this precarious situation without warning.

Caroline made her way slowly towards the bed, her eyes unable to leave his attractive physique. Yes, they’d been intimate before but she’d tried to block out that toned chest, crimson lips and blonde curls for her sanity, until now that was.

“Caroline,” he moaned, making her stop still in her tracks. At first she thought he’d caught her sneaking inside uninvited but looking at his face with his eyes shut tight and lips pursed it was obvious he was still dreaming. “Don’t go.” She was taken aback, wondering why he was so upset. Especially by her departure given they hadn’t been together in so long.

Alaric had alluded to some upheavels but hadn’t gone into further detail. Caroline had always assumed given his invincibility, Klaus was untouchable to anyone and anything but given the way he was thrashing about on the bed she wasn’t so sure. It was obvious that even the most powerful beasts had their demons. She leant down at the side of the bed and against her better judgment began to stroke his hair softly. Within an instant he’d stilled, it was like she could feel him gravitating towards her touch, like the wolf he was. Caroline was transfixed unable to take her hands or eyes off him now.

You let your tears rain down on me…Whenever I touch your slow turning pain

Caroline wasn’t sure how long she knelt there rubbing the path between the sticky curls at the nape of his neck to the stubble lining his strong jaw, probably hours. It was like she could feel the peace settle over him as she caressed him slowly. Once she thought he’d eventually calmed, Caroline moved away slowly only to find him moving about again, whimpering in some sort of indescribable pain as he did. They’d had their differences in the past but Caroline couldn’t stand to see him so tortured.

“Caroline,” he pleaded, a few stray tears rolling down his cheek. She instinctively moved towards the bed again, now lying down beside him. His arms had immediately encircled her waist and as much as she wanted to object she finally felt at home as he held her close. It was obvious that he needed her as much as she needed him.

Caroline nestled into his embrace, trailing some kisses along his collar bone before they eventually fell into a deep sleep knowing that tomorrow was going to be the beginning of their new life together.

Whenever I fall at your feet...

You can review HERE

[jinjikook]

1st Win | Hyunwoo | (M)

word count: 2k

genre: fluff + smut; idol-verse! + established relationship

pairing: reader/hyunwoo

summary: monsta x has just had their first ever win on a music show, and you’re too happy to celebrate that achievement with your boyfriend, who’s a part of said group.

masterlist

You couldn’t believe it. After nearly two and half years of working themselves endlessly, the boys of MONSTA X had finally won their first music show. Screams erupted from the waiting room you were in, all the Starship staff huddled around the TV screen were cheering and shouting in happiness.

Including yourself.

You hugged some of the make-up noonas and congratulated the managers, proud of your boyfriend’s idol group finally receiving the recognition they deserved. You felt your hands trembling, anxiety that was once making your stomach knot up terribly now channeling itself in mindless energy that brimmed all over your body.

The need to celebrate was deep within your bones and soon you were met with the winners themselves. They burst into their waiting room, screaming and shouting and crying, a mix of emotions whirled around the small room as everyone congratulated them. You smiled widely and hugged everyone, keeping your hold tight around your boyfriend, Hyunwoo, especially.

He looked down at you and smiled brightly, his tear stained cheeks puffing up around his eyes as his smile grew wider. You never thought you’d see Hyunwoo cry, he was always so strong and stoic and brave. But you knew it was a very powerful moment for them to receive this award so you didn’t want to point it out. Instead you helped straighten his clothes out, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

He had to prepare for a VLIVE broadcast, as the members wanted to announce their win to their fans and thank them personally as soon as possible. It was sweet, really, how much they loved them.

You quickly followed the remaining staff and helped clean up their belongings while the group sat at the couch and began their broadcast. You could hear them do their official greeting, amongst some sniffles and coughs.

They all cheered and thanked Monbebes for their support and then began to pass the phone around to ask each member how they felt and what they were thankful for.

You laughed when Minhyuk said he was happy to get his phone back, teared up when Hoseok talked about his undying love for his fans and especially his mother and you smiled when Hyunwoo secretly mentioned his thankfulness for his loved ones as he snuck a glance towards you.

After a few minutes, it was time to go.

The staff were planning on going out for drinks and the group was offered to eat meat at a good restaurant that night but the boys were so exhausted and overwhelmed that they took a rain check for later on it.

They returned to the dorm, Hyunwoo asking you to stop by whenever just so he could talk with you after all that’s happened.

You managed to make it just a few hours after the win, needing some time to calm your nerves and also get gifts for the members. After you’d arrived and been swamped with hugs and smiles, you’d divided the gifts and smiled fondly at their excitement. They were all very grateful and thanked you profusely. Hyunwoo had kissed your forehead and mumbled into your hair, asking if now you two could go talk in his room.

You nodded and he held your hand, leading the way. Changkyun ooh’d at the sight of you two leaving together while Minhyuk giggled like a schoolgirl. You shook your head at their antics, so happy to be close with this group.

Hyunwoo shut the door behind you and before you could reach to turn the light switch on, he brought you in for a tight hug. His breath sounded labored and you realized he was crying again. He shivered in your hold as you wrapped your arms around his large frame, head settling in-between his neck and shoulder.

He continued to shake as you peppered soft kisses to his skin, willing his body to calm down and for him to just breathe. After a few minutes, he was able to finally pull back to look you in the eyes. They were soft and full of emotion, his lashes wet and clumped. He smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, just a small peck, before coming back and beginning to speak.

“Baby, I… I don’t know how to thank you. For always being there for us, for me. You never gave up on me, even when I had given up on myself. After so long, I thought we’d never win. Especially with rookies getting better and better as debuts passed and how many times we were up against groups with more fans and capabilities, much more so than us and—“

“Hyunwoo, you’re all are plenty talented and capable—“

“Y/N please, let me finish.”

You nodded and shut your mouth, letting you boyfriend finish.

“We may have some talents but at the end of the day, there will always be someone better than us. Just like even the best aren’t always so. As comebacks came and gone, I was sure we wouldn’t be together any longer. Not only is me being an idol always putting a strain on our relationship, it’s also just how different you and I are. They say opposites attract, but I never thought I’d fall in love with such a beautiful and outspoken person. I’m truly so blessed to have you by my side every day, whether it’s for better or worse. I may not speak my mind often but in this moment I just know I have to tell you everything because if I don’t, I might just pass out. Winning today made me realize just how happy you’ve made me, despite the setbacks we’ve experienced as a group. You’re amazing with the other members and you’re always so positive. It’s because of you I’m able to get up every day and put my all in everything I do. Because of you, we won today. But I’m happier to have won your heart over any award we may ever receive. Thank you so much Y/N, I love you.”

You felt tears running down your cheeks, despite not even noticing how close you were to crying all throughout Hyunwoo’s heartfelt words. His hand reached forward and he thumbed the tear tracks away, bringing his face closer to yours to kiss you, channeling his feelings into his actions.

He was always able to speak his mind with what he did rather than his words, but after that confession, his actions were much more passionate than ever before. The kisses began to grow in strength and heat, his hands coming around your waist to pull you in even more. Your torsos were smashed together, Hyunwoo’s large hands rubbing up and down the sides of your body.

You tongues clashed together while you fisted your hands in his hair, pulling tight as emotions began to consume the two of you. The room was silent other than the labored breaths and wet smacks of lips from your heavy lip-lock. Hyunwoo groaned at a particularly hard tug of his hair and his hips ground against yours, his thick arousal prominent in his pants.

Kissing had gone on for some time, only escalating in passion as you two slowly disrobed, shirts and pants coming off in a flurry of nips and pecks. Soon you were both naked and in one of the bunks, not caring whose it was as Hyunwoo began to finger you open. As he stretched you, your walls clenched around his digits as he continued to kiss you and swallow the moans that came from you the more he spread his fingers.

He hit a particularly sensitive spot inside of you and you squirmed in his hold, a loud moan escaping your mouths. As he hovered over you, he thrust his fingers into you deep, trying to reach that bundle of nerves again to repeat your reaction. Hyunwoo found it in no time, sparing you no mercy as he ravaged it and made you nearly come at the overwhelming feeling.

Hyunwoo quickly pulled out his fingers, hand coming back to spread your juices on his own length, coating it before lining himself up.

You two have been together for nearly a year and a half now, so you’ve already gone through the tests and such, deciding to be on birth control for the sake of Hyunwoo not needing to worry about getting condoms or leaving them somewhere where fans could see in VLIVEs.

The head of his cock began to breach your walls all while you were laid down on the bed, watching Hyunwoo’s loving expression as he looked down at you. He smiled before leaning forward and catching your mouth in another passionate kiss, distracting you from the stretch of his thick length. Once he was fully seated in you, he leaned his forehead against yours and gave you a second to adjust.

All the times you two have been intimate and yet this moment always felt raw and new in your mind. You’d never get over the feeling of him being inside you, the heady scent of his sweat thick on your tongue and overwhelming emotions buzzing off your bodies.

“Can I move yet, angel?” Hyunwoo so sweetly asked, watching your face intently for any signs of discomfort or pain. Once you gave him the green light, he didn’t hold back any longer.

Hyunwoo gripped the sheets by your head and began to thrust slow and deep, hitting the very spot he’d mapped out earlier with his fingers. Every grind against your body had you reeling, the only words you were able to form were Hyunwoo’s name and stuttered curses. He rocked your body hard, so hard you swore you’d seen a new strain of colors just underneath your eyelids. His arm slid under your body while you arched your back at a thrust that had you crying out in pleasure. He gripped your body from underneath and used it as leverage to go deeper, slamming into you with all his might.

His mouth latched itself onto your neck while he furiously pounded into you, the bed shaking in its very frame at the pure strength behind every thrust. You felt yourself tearing at the seams, ready to burst when suddenly Hyunwoo took his grip around you and pulled you up as he sat back against the foot board.

You hadn’t expected this change in position, especially so close to your climax but then Hyunwoo had his feet braced against the mattress as he fucked up into you. He held you tight in his grip, every one of his muscles pulled taut as he used all of his strength to fuck you with no abandon. You just let yourself be put to use, the pleasure too much for your body to handle. Hyunwoo’s body glistened with sweat and you let your hands rest on top of his shoulders, nails scratching along the surface of his skin when he’d thrust up harder than usual.

It was over in a second when Hyunwoo whimpered, actually, literally whimpered, your name, begging you to come so he could do the same. You came tumbling down from your high, swearing loudly as Hyunwoo finished inside you all while bringing you back into a flurry of loving kisses.

All the sudden, the harsh lines effortlessly blending into one another, the once passionate scene of sex now turned to a loving embrace of two souls so perfectly matched for one another. He kissed you softly as he laid you back down onto the bed.

He pulled out of you gently, trying to keep from touching where you were most definitely over-sensitive at this point. He kissed along your shoulders, the column of your throat and every inch of your face. He ended his trail at your mouth, sealing it with one last kiss, his eyes once again soft and shaking.

You were so proud of him, for winning and for coming out his shell to tell you how he felt. About everything.

“I love you Son Hyunwoo.”

His cheeks rolled over his eyes as he grinned dumbly, kissing you again before telling you he loved you once more. You couldn’t have been luckier to have found and kept him in your life.

[svt-stories]

hi!!! christmas just ended i hope yours was great!! anyways can i request for a scenario where you and chan have the same birthday and you celebrate it together? thank you so much!!

study abroad au! kinda angst in the beginning bc you’re studying abroad in korea but you felt like you didn’t have anyone to celebrate with. (sorry if youre already in korea or something lol,)

You sigh, chewing the inside of your cheek. A heavy feeling laid in your chest, joking to yourself that it’s a heavy heart. It was a weird feeling to explain, not necessarily sad, or angry or even content. Just there. By all means, you felt blessed for spending your birthday in the place you’ve grown to love over the semester. One down, another to go. Yet, in that semester, you had doubts. Sure you had friends, but were they really? Of course you were happy, but then what’s this nagging feeling? You pushed it off as homesickness, the same feeling you got while sitting in the crowded dorm room on new years eve. The ache you got when it felt like no one was around, and there for you. Shaking the numbing emotion from your head, you decide then and there, that this birthday was going to be a great one. Even if it meant being by yourself because if you can’t have a good time by yourself than what’s the point at all. 

You toss your phone onto your desk, playing your favorite ‘get pumped’ tunes as your rummage through your things, picking out the best outfit for the night. After taking your time getting ready to perfection, you grab your things and head out the door, a faint smile lingering on your face. It was not that late in the afternoon, people had just started getting off of work, and the Seoul streets began filling in. The movement of it all, while you used to find it anxiety enduing, became a source of energy and excitement. The air was crisp, but not bone chilling, pleasantly tingling the tip of your nose. You stopped in your favorite stores, trying out the new products, and testing again the ones you were skeptical on buying. It was relaxing and mind clearing, thinking about if you should buy the new Kakaotalk hand cream instead of the laughter of pairs of friends outside. 

It had been around an hour or two before you decided to treat yourself to you favorite restaurant, a little hole in the wall type place that you first discovered during the beginning of the semester. The owner was a nice, yet loud, old lady who managed to make you feel welcome, and intimidated at the same time. She gushed openly about how she missed seeing you sitting in her restaurant. 

You could hear Zion.t being played in the kitchen, the soft melodies and heavenly smells seeping out into the main dining area. Glancing around you taking in a deep, heart warming breath. In somewhere so far from home, this place was able to take you back. The owner asks if you want your usual, a knowing gleam in her eyes. You nod in response, unable to avoid the laugh that escapes you. A few others scattered the restaurant, more than usual, you observed. In the midst of looking around, you barely registered the person climbing onto the stool next to yours. It was a small counter, only four seats in front of it, with you and one other occupying two of them. You glance at the person next to you, only to find them looking back at you. Their eyes widen in alert.

“Sorry, is this seat taken?” he asks, looking rather confused. You chuckle out a no, gesturing for him to take it. After being in Korea for some time, you understood that strangers rarely talked to each other, so you figured it was another one of those situations. Except, it wasn’t.

A wide smile spread across the boys face, causing a dimple to take shape. It was a friendly smile, something you had not been used to unless it was a drunk night with your roommate, or hanging with the other foreigners at your school. Of course, not everyone was this way but it was definitely noticeable. “Here by yourself?” You manage to ask, deciding that if he rejected your conversation, it wasn’t the end of the world, and if he didn’t, then you got yourself a dinner date. It was painfully obvious that he was impressed by your Korean, another face you had gotten used to over time.

“Yes, sadly, everyone I knew was busy.” He fakes a pout. “I’m Chan.” You answer with a small laugh and your name. “What about you? I don’t see you here with anyone.”

“That would be correct.” You sigh. Your attention momentarily drawn away by the business owners son placing your favorite dumplings in front of you. He continues to take Chan’s order before walking back into the kitchen. “Birthday celebration for one!” You ‘cheer’ weakly with your arms. Today was not even that bad, but it felt weird to say you were having a good time alone on your birthday.

“Really?” Chan’s jaw drops, causing you to raise your eyebrow questioningly. “Today is my birthday too! Ah, what are the chances.” He tsks with a smirk. It was your turn to be shocked. Because, what were the chances, two people born on the same day, celebrating alone, yet in the same small, hidden noodle shop. “Fate, perhaps.” Chan laughs, taking the sentence out of your thoughts. 

This time, it was the shop owner who brought out your large noodle bowl, placing it down with a heartfelt smile. “How did you hear about this place?” You ask Chan, curious if his story was similar to yours, a late night with a mind numbing head ache and a stomach eating itself. He tells you how his friends introduced him to it a few years ago, and he’s there nearly every other week since. “I’m surprised I haven’t run into you before then.” You mention, taking a bite from the yummy dumpling.

“Then I have an idea, how about we spend the rest of the night here together.” He must have noticed the expression on your face, “at least until midnight!” he hurriedly adds. “So we don’t have to spend our birthdays alone, and if you want to leave at midnight and never speak again, then so be it. Or better yet, if, I mean when, my amazing conversation skills win you over, we can make this a regular thing.” He smiles brightly, but you can tell he was nervous from the proposition. 

“And why should I say yes?”

“How about it’s making up for lost time.” He smirks, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. “You said it yourself, ‘I can’t believe we haven’t run into each other’ so I say we make up for the times we could have, tonight, making these birthdays even more interesting.” You had the urge to hit him, why the hell was he so cocky? On the other hand, the mood in the air was pulling at your heart, and at your optimism. 

“All right,” You reply with a nod, slurping up a thick noodle. “You better not disappoint.” 

And boy did he not, Chan was funny but in a way you couldn’t put your tongue on. His presences turned the dull ache in your chest into a warm glow, a bubbly light feeling. It had been a long time since you laughed that hard, mainly when he inhaled a noodle. Time passed by quickly, already ordering dessert after two noodle bowls down, you were treating yourself. Chan on the other hand, ate much more. Three bowls, and many more side dishes later before he considered dessert. “What do you want?” He asks, leaning over to look at the same menu as you. It was intimate, nearly feeling too much too soon yet the feeling of discomfort never came. Instead you leaning in toward him so he could get a better look. 

“Want to split bingsoo?” you offer, too full for one by yourself. Chan looked impressed, excited for this step in your ‘relationship’ he approves with a smile. A few minutes later, the dish is brought out, looking delicious as ever. The night continues, laughing over shared spoonfuls of ice cream, red bean and other toppings. You did not even realize when you finished it, continuing talking over school, Chan’s dancing aspiration, life in Korea and anything else that came to mind. The restaurant fluctuated in guests. Becoming louder, and drunker, as the night progressed. 

“Yah!” The owner calls out your name, your head turns quickly towards her. “You’re never here this late, shouldn’t you be heading back to school?” She looked worried, always looking out for you. It was then that you finally glance at your phone, only to see the clock read back “2:06 am” 

“Oh my god.” You scoff, amazed at your lack of paying attention. Chan sees the screen just as you had, it was surprising his smile could get any brighter.

“So, I guess this means I’ll see you another time.”

-june

i really really like how this came out, so I hope you enjoyed it.