#the more i write the more i stumble across plot holes

[iwantacoolusernameman]

Will I ever finish this fic? *screams* *inhales* *screams louder*

[filmsbyun]

Manacled Hands, Shared Sins || Choi Soobin

i. CHAPTER ONE

.☘︎ ݁˖ Back to story ml .☘︎ ݁˖ Event masterlist

Being a Slytherin was never about villainy – it was about survival. So when you stumble across Choi Soobin, Ravenclaw’s golden Head Boy, accidentally ripping a hole through reality itself, you do what any sensible person would: you make it his problem.

Unfortunately, you’re also a witness to the ritual. Which means if this whole mess comes to light, you’re just as screwed as he is.

⊹₊⟡⋆ 11.7k/ ?

Ravenclaw!Choi Soobin x Slytherin!afab!reader

[NOTE that: Specific warnings will be listed before every chapters || Check the story masterlist page to get the genre + whole warning section] chapter warnings: hogwarts college/uni au, characters are 20+, except for the first part of this chapter - the entirety is written in flashbacks, prejudiced system, reader and soobin starts with a rocky relationship (they're both emotionally constipated and just trying to survive), mild description of nosebleed and fainting, dual pov

MHSS is finally here oh my god this fuckass fic made me pull my hairs out and crash out on a daily basis. It's totally on me for making such a detailed plot back when I dropped the teaser I'm ngl don't even know what was going through my head when I came up with the storyline. I'd like thank my moa friends for this chance and allowing me to bring this story to life <3 ily all so much. The story will be updated weekly! Hoping you like this story as much as I hated writing it <3 Reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated! © filmsbyun ── please do not copy, translate, or repost my work without permission.

Tonight, everything had the chance to change.

After a failed heist of the Marauder's Map from the caretaker’s office, you were compelled to take an improvised detour.

It was supposed to be a perfectly well planned infiltration of the said office to get the magical tool before anyone even realized something was missing. It should have gone without a hitch.

But then Choi Yeonjun, in all his infuriating recklessness, knocked over a lamp with the crook of his elbow.

There was no time to think, let alone breathe. The fast approaching footsteps of the caretaker and his cat reverberated into your bones. You spun on your heel and cast one murderous glare in Yeonjun’s direction, one that said you’d personally transfigure his organs the next time you see him, and then darted into the hidden passage behind the filing cabinet. You didn’t need to tell him where to go — he knew. The two of you split, vanishing into separate secret tunnels that curved beneath the stone walls like veins.

It was an old maneuver in the textbooks — splinter the team to fracture pursuit. Let the enemy scramble. Let them guess which way you’d gone and lose time deciding.

You ducked beneath low beams, boots scraping against damp stones, and emerged somewhere near the third-floor Charms corridor. It was dead silent. You took a moment to press a palm against the wall, steadying your breath, your other hand clenched into a fist.

You felt the irritation bloom in your bloodstream. You hated disruptions to your perfectly constructed plans. More so if the plan promised you nothing but the desired result in your desired way. You despised the unpredictability of someone else’s incompetence.

The map should’ve been yours tonight. You could’ve had one of the greatest magical tools in your very hands if Choi fucking Yeonjun didn’t fuck up. 

Hexing him in your mind wasn’t enough. You needed to see him writhe and squirm and regret every breath he took from the moment he decided to knock over that damned lamp. You wouldn’t stop until he begged. Until the arsenal of curses in your vocabulary bled dry.

Tonight, everything had the chance to change.

You didn’t know what it was exactly but suddenly you felt uncomfortable inside. If your senses weren’t keen, you would’ve almost missed it. The air felt uncharacteristically colder, a dip so slight it could’ve been passed off as a draft. Especially during this time of the year considering summer was fast approaching. Yet here, in this corridor, the air felt wrong. Not just cold, but cutting in a way that made your skin tighten beneath your robes. Your eyes narrowed as you stared ahead.

It was not safe to stay outside now considering the caretaker is well aware someone is breaching the curfew hours. You should’ve doubled back the moment you reached the junction. You should’ve taken the route back to the Slytherin dorm long ago.

But instead, you found yourself walking toward the far end of the corridor. It felt like something magnetic was pulling your being to it. It was as if a vicious voice in your mind telling you to see what you could find in there. You stood in front of the door, now feeling the chill biting into your skin through your robes.

Turn around. Leave. 

Magic tainted the air and the darkness that surrounded you, but it was almost foul. It reeked of something utterly bestial. 

Just before your hand gripped the doorknob, you paused. You stared at it, eyes slightly narrowed and one single thought planted itself in your mind: But what was the point of going in? There was no logic to this, and definitely no reward waiting on the other side. You didn't even know what was behind that door. If you had the map, perhaps you would’ve had some semblance of direction. Instead, all you had was this knot of frustration curdling in your stomach and a bitter aftertaste crawling up your throat reminding you of your failed heist.

Out of spite, your hand twisted the knob.

Locked.

Your head tilted slightly. There was a strange tension in the air that clung to your skin the moment you touched the door. Magically sealed.

Colloportus, probably.

Someone was inside. Now that tickled your curiosity. 

“How useless,” you muttered under your breath before fishing out your wand as you stepped back half a pace, “Alohomora.”

The enchantment peeled away with a faint metallic creak. The door opened, spilling cold, stale air into the corridor like breath from a tomb. Your instincts made you grip your wand tighter, the tip barely alight, casting only a faint glow that brushed against the floor.

As you stepped inside the door shut softly behind you, muffling out the corridor. At first, the light seemed distorted, your vision struggling to orient itself to the strange hue tinting the air.

You didn’t know what you were expecting on the other side. An unused room with dust-slicked furniture, perhaps. Rows of forgotten bookshelves or peeling chalkboards — the leftovers of a classroom that no longer served a purpose. At worst, a Gryffindor huddled over some misguided prank, ready to bolt at the sight of whoever crossed them.

Anything, really. Anything but this.

Tonight, everything was going to change.

Anything but him.

You could've sworn your heart stopped beating for a moment. The hand holding the wand slowly dropped to your side as your eyes adjusted to the dark — hoping you were seeing things.

A rift in space, like a violent slash through the air itself. The air around it warped, sucked inwards and shuddered out, like the room was caught in a perpetual gasp. Blackness spilled outward from it in slow drips, thick tendrils of darkness stretching and recoiling, disappearing again, only to return seconds later with renewed intent. The edges shimmered faintly, like oil catching low light, and the space around it throbbed with unnatural pressure.

And standing before it, back to you, head tilted upward like he was staring into the maw of a god in utter defeat was—

"Soobin?" His name slipped out of you before you could help it. A bewildered recognition punched out of your chest. 

Choi Soobin flinched like you’d hexed him.

His body twisted sharply as he turned to face you, eyes wild and trembling. There was a pale sheen on his forehead and a terror in his gaze that had nothing to do with being caught and everything to do with what stood — what moved behind him.

You stepped back instinctively, wand lifted a little higher now. Everything was supposed to change tonight but not like this. You were never supposed to find him, let alone come near him.

It had been a year already without exchanging more than what the corridors and shared classes required — brief flickers of coincidental glances, not even nods. It was meant to stay that way until you took your last breath, until you could forget what he’d asked of you with those eyes, what you gave in return without ever saying yes. But here you were, standing just a reach away from him, again.

“Soobin… what are you doing?”

A little over one summer ago, your world unexpectedly collided with Choi Soobin. 

You always steered clear of situations that never concerned you. It wasn’t indifference; rather, it was a necessity. It was a rule you clung to with the kind of desperation only survival breeds.

From the moment you were sorted into Slytherin, your name had carried a shadow. You had no freedom to define yourself because everyone else decided who you were before you had a chance to be anyone.

Peers assumed the worst — that you were manipulative and power hungry. Even the smallest act of kindness from you was met with suspicion, as if it were part of a larger scheme. You still remembered a moment in second year — offering to help a Hufflepuff carry a stack of books, only to watch them recoil like you’d threatened them. You remembered thinking to yourself, what would a twelve year old possibly do?

In group projects, Slytherins were the ones no one wanted to be paired with. In duels, you were expected to go too far, and so you held back until it was dangerous to do so. 

You learned fast that there was no benefit in trying to prove yourself otherwise. No matter what you did, your actions would always be dissected under the same poisoned lens. This prejudice, this reputation that Slytherins couldn’t escape sometimes baffled you. You had to learn to lean into the mask they gave you just so you could quietly survive. The unfairness you faced didn’t soften with time; it calcified. Hardened into something dense and cold in your chest. It was rage, maybe, but rage so familiar that it settled inside you like second skin.

Therefore, you began to adapt. If the world expected you to be dangerous, then at least you’d make sure they were right to be scared. You started giving them what they wanted. You built a shell so tight around you that you could breathe without fear of anyone getting too close. You developed a habit to always make sure you’re the one in control.

Because being in control meant being safe. Control was how you survived. In this twisted, prejudiced system that you’ve come to resent so deeply, you had to make sure you played the game cunningly. People always assumed Slytherins were power-hungry. They never realized that power was just another word for safety — one you were forced to cling to, because of how the world decided who you were before giving you a chance.

The House prejudice. The biased professors. The way people assumed light was good and dark was evil — you despised all of it. But instead of trying to break the system, you chose to play it better than anyone else. The only power you craved was the kind that let you live without compromise.

And maybe that’s why people like Choi Soobin made no sense to you.

He existed on the other end of the spectrum, where people assumed the best instead of the worst. Head Boy. Top of the class. House of blue and bronze. Teachers adored him. Students respected him. To them, he was the golden standard, someone whose light could not be touched by shadows. You’d always watched him from a distance, not out of envy, but as a way to study the architecture of privilege. The kind of boy who never had to prove he was good — people just believed he was.

You had always seen him as the perfect, pristine model of a student — without a hint of fault, always so thoroughly put together that it seemed almost unnatural. His uniform never bore a crease, his hair always neatly styled and his dimpled smile which was entirely too charming — was the sort that teachers favoured and classmates admired. His record gleamed with achievements, badges, merits, and praise. It was only natural, then, that you saw him as one might look upon an altar, some polished figure placed far above your reach, never faltering and never flawed.

He always looked so unbreakable. 

Until that summer of your freshman year, when you pushed open an unused storage room’s door on the outskirts of the castle, you found him hiding away with tears running down his cheeks. And just like that, everything you thought you knew began to fray.

The summer sun flared behind you, casting a wide spill of golden light across the dusty floor, stopping just short of where he sat crumpled in the dark. That spill of light caught his face, and for the first time, you saw Choi Soobin — utterly shattered.

He was crouched down, knees pulled to his chest, shoulders trembling as though whatever composure he usually clung to had slipped completely from his grasp. His face was flushed and puffy, neat hair now askew and those lips — bitten and swollen — looked like he’d tried to hold the sobs in until it hurt.

Your eyes widened on instinct, mirroring his, except his were glassy and bloodshot, and the moment hung between you like glass waiting to hit the floor — your breath stuck in your throat, his faltering in his chest.

The tear tracks that streaked his cheeks glistened faintly in the scant light ought to have made your stomach twist with empathy. But that sight of him — this pathetic, crumpled version of Choi Soobin — sent a rush through your bloodstream so sharp and immediate you almost didn’t recognise it. 

It slithered through your chest like a thrill you had no right to feel, a bitter sort of satisfaction rooted not in cruelty but in the cruel symmetry of it all. Because right in front of you was Choi Soobin with a crack in his polished shell. How lucky were you to catch it? Alone, and by sheer accident?

A strangled sound left his throat as he stumbled upwards, hands fumbling to steady himself against the wall. One arm reached out towards you as though bridging the space might undo what had just occurred.

"Why are you here — no, it doesn’t matter. You—!"

Your heart kicked to your stomach at the sight because of what it meant. He was going to plead. You could see it forming in his panicked eyes, in the way he was reaching out slightly, from the shadows he curled in, towards you who stood at the threshold in the light.

It was ironic, almost cruelly so. All this time, you had been the one forced into shadows while he basked under everyone’s approval. And now, here he was, desperate and cornered in the dark, with you holding the door. That image clung to your vision, tipped the balance of your thoughts.

"Please," he rasped, voice hoarse and shaky. "Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t see this. Alright? You didn’t see me. Please."

Because even as your heartbeat quickened, even as your mind raced through the possibilities this encounter had suddenly opened, a low, grim voice inside your head reminded you that this was someone breaking. You weren’t supposed to feel satisfaction watching it happen. It came with an edge of shame, twisting itself around your ribs. You weren’t cruel. You never had been. But the balance of power had always been something you fought to claim, and now that it lay squarely in your hands, warm and alive and real — you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want to close your fist around it.

He said it again, almost tripping over the repetition, each plea more frantic than the last. His tone was splintered with desperation, barely stitched together by what little dignity he had left to himself. He sounded as if the very idea of you walking away with this memory terrified him more than being found in this state by anyone else.

Because you were the one person who’d say nothing, and mean it. Unless you didn’t.

And oh, the way your heart picked up with each of his pleas. This wasn’t the sort of power you clawed tooth and nail for in the face of prejudice. This was power handed to you, freely, through the very act of witnessing. He had no clue what you might do with it — and that, more than anything, made him panic.

A part of you recoiled at the sensation and as much as that part of you that still remembered the sting of loneliness wanted to offer him mercy, the part that had learned to survive by staying three steps ahead… it could already see the leverage hanging between you.

For years, you’d learned how to hold your tongue, when to manipulate a conversation, how to survive being judged before anyone saw the green and silver snake emblem — after all the side glances, all the mistrust, and all the assumptions it was like the universe had thrown you a bone. 

Golden, rule-bound, Head Boy Soobin, asking for your silence.

You didn’t need to think very hard. If he didn’t want this moment to exist, then you held the power to erase it — or hold it like a noose. You wondered, idly, what it would feel like to have him caught in your palm. What might he give for your silence? What could you make of that control if you truly chose to keep it?

"Why?" you asked, your tone cutting through the charged air. "What’s in it for me?"

Soobin froze, eyes widening, clearly taken aback by the question. His mouth parted, searching — no, scrambling for something, anything to say in return. But for a few seconds, he came up empty, lips working soundlessly until his gaze flickered to the floor. The apparent defeated breath which slipped past his trembling lips ruefully had you claiming your victory. You should’ve known better than to think you could easily seize up a Ravenclaw like him.

You watched the change wash over him like it was a spell. He straightened up fully, the trembling in his frame gradually pushed aside by the sharper angles as if remembering the role he was supposed to play. There it was again — that mask. Neatly pulled back into place, only this time you knew how easily it cracked.

"Forget it," he said sharply, though his voice cracked slightly around the edge, betraying the rush with which he reclaimed control. "Just go. If you’ve got what you wanted, then go on. Walk out. It won’t matter either way, will it?"

You blinked once, your brow twitching in surprise that slowly bled into caution. There was something in the way he said it, a calculated precision that felt as though it had been honed under pressure. It was meant to cut.

"No one’s going to believe you anyway."

With two long strides, his frame came close enough but still maintained a safe distance. He towered above you in height, his shoulder far above where yours stood, and  you took in the way that if you had stood a little more close to him — his lips would have easily brushed your forehead if he so much as leaned in. Yet, your chin stayed level. Your feet didn’t budge.

But the meaning behind the words struck harder than you anticipated. You’d heard that before too many times, from too many people, in too many forms. Like he’d plucked it directly from the mouth of every person who'd instinctively blamed your house for bruised egos.

The implication that your voice held less weight simply because of the house you’d been sorted into. He meant it as a bluff, a wall of indifference to hide the very real fear he’d shown before. But those words scraped across old wounds, and the sting made your fingers twitch.

A breath caught in your throat, then left as something closer to a scoff. You've played this game too many times to lose your balance now. You gave him a look that teetered on the edge of disbelief and smiled, or rather, allowed your mouth to curl into something too restrained to be mirth.

"Are you sure about that, Head Boy?" The title left your lips like a mock coronation stripped bare. "Because not long ago, you looked frightened out of your skin over what I might do after seeing you like… this. Doesn’t seem like such a throwaway moment now, does it?"

You stepped forward slowly, one foot after another, until there was barely an arm’s length left between you both. Soobin didn’t move but his throat bobbed with a swallow, jaw clenched — and your gaze stayed level with his, unshaken.

"If you’re confident," you said quietly, laced with the barest edge of challenge, "then say it again. Tell me to leave, to walk out of here bearing witness to your pitiful state, trusting that blind hope of yours that I’ll just let it all vanish. Go on, Soobin. Tell me."

His jaw ticked, eyes flickering with too many thoughts at once, and for a long, stretched-out second he simply stood there, every inch of his tall frame taut with conflict. Then, lethargically he dragged a hand across his face. His fingers pressed hard into his brow, then down over the curve of his cheek, wiping off the exhaustion with those long drag of his fingers. 

"What do you want?" he asked, finally.

This was him giving in — not to you personally, but to the situation. And that’s when you get to decide the terms of how this arrangement will proceed. You took a moment yourself to think over what you truly wanted. 

You didn't hold any personal vendetta against him nor do you want to hurt him. You never wanted to hurt him in the first place, only sought to solidify the leverage he himself presented in front of you. Having the Head Boy tethered to you — even by circumstance — might one day tip the scales in your favour. And right now, you weren’t above playing the long game.

Your gaze flicked briefly to the scuffed floor beneath your shoes, your expression falling into one of mild, almost disinterested contemplation, though your mind raced through possibilities with exacting clarity. After a few moments, you let your lips curl into the faintest semblance of a smile.

"Hmm. I’ll think about it," you said at last, voice low but audible. Then, meeting his eyes again, you added, "Until then, our hands are manacled."

Your smile had barely faded, the echo of your words still hanging in the air —

"Until then, our hands are manacled."

— when you made the turn, prepared to let him go, to walk out and leave the silence to stitch him back together. You had no intention of dragging it further, no desire to bruise what dignity he still had, only to mark the moment, to keep the upper hand. But before your foot could land into a stride, his fingers closed around your wrist.

They weren’t rough or bruising, but they held just enough insistence to halt your step and to command your attention. Your head turned sharply. He was looking at you not with that frantic panic from earlier but with a kind of stillness that unsettled you. The flush had left his face, leaving behind a pallor that did not suit him, and his breath came shallower than it should have.

"I don’t like to be in anyone’s debt," Soobin said, and though the words came soft, there was nothing weak about them. They were steady enough to sound like a decision had been made. “So whatever it is you want — name it. Just say it, and you’ll have it. Then we’ll be done.”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off-guard by the vehemence in his voice. You weren’t sure what surprised you more — that he still had it in him to bark terms, or that he thought this was a simple trade to finalise and forget. You studied his face, the stubborn tilt of his chin clashed with the dampness at his temples, the taut lines around his mouth, the sheen over his skin. Your eyes flicked to the point of contact between you — your wrist, small in his hand — and you gave it the faintest twist, more a signal than a struggle.

"Let go," you muttered.

But before you could follow through, before you could wrench your hand back fully, your gaze caught on a detail that hadn’t been there seconds ago. A line, red and stark, had begun its slow descent from his nose to the curve of his lip. You blinked once, processing it.

"Soo—"

Your attempt to speak his name fractured mid-syllable as his expression shifted — eyes unfocused and jaw slackening. His frame swayed alarmingly, head tilting forward but he looked at you mustering all of his might one last time.

“Please,” he managed to breathlessly croak out. His grip, which had held you fast only moments ago, tightened just once, a brief flare of strength as if trying to hold onto something, anything. Then it went slack completely.

In a heartbeat his knees buckled and the full weight of him collapsed forward.

Soobin woke with a start, lungs dragging in air that felt stale and far too cold against his damp skin. His chest heaved once before he shot up onto his elbows, eyes darting around with a vague urgency as though he couldn’t quite piece together where he was. The dimness of the room pressed in on him, shadows stretching long across the stone floor. It was only when he caught sight of the small, rectangular window near the ceiling — its glass tinged with the bruised hues of dusk that it clicked. He was still in the storage room. The sun had gone down. How long had he been unconscious this time?

He shifted slightly and saw a robe, folded neatly and placed beneath his head like a makeshift pillow. His own had been draped over him, now pooled in his lap where it slipped down when he sat up. His brows furrowed, and he was about to straighten up further when a voice made him flinch.

"You’re up?"

His gaze snapped across the room. You were sitting against the opposite wall, legs stretched out in front of you. There was nothing pointed about your tone, nor any warmth either. 

At a loss he turned his head slightly, taking in the storage room with a fresh glance but the abrupt movement sent a sharp throb blooming behind his temples and he winced.

"Don’t move around too much," you said, uncrossing your arms and getting to your feet with minimal fuss. "You passed out from exhaustion."

You crossed the room in even strides before crouching down beside him — not too close, but near enough that he could see the faint sheen of sweat on your collarbone, likely from the stress of the situation rather than the air itself. His eyes tracked your movement before narrowing slightly.

"Why are you still here?" he asked, tone lower than usual, roughened by wear.

Your eyes rolled over to his with a sardonic tilt to your brow. "Surely you weren’t expecting me to lug you up to the Hospital Wing, were you?" There was a dry slant to your voice, and your gaze flicked once to his tall frame, your meaning crystal clear.

He had the decency to look slightly confused.

"I nicked a few healing potions," you added, pulling a small vial from your pocket and turning it over in your hand. "Didn’t use a Reviving Spell because you looked too comfortable knocked out cold."

But Soobin just blinked at you, frown deepening as he shook his head faintly, strands of hair brushing against his forehead. "No... that’s not what I meant. I meant—" he faltered, eyes narrowing again, "—why didn’t you leave?"

You stilled, the potion vial cooling in your palm. You looked at him squarely then, and a soft sigh pushed from your chest as if the answer, though simple, was too tangled to unpack in full. You let your gaze fall away for a moment, tracing the dull lines on the stone floor, before you leaned forward and offered the vial towards him.

"Why were you crying?"

The question came out quiet but not tentative, as though you already knew the answer — which you did — and were just daring him to name it aloud.

He didn’t take the vial nor did he answer, rather his eyes dropped to his fists, now limp against his lap. He stared at them for a moment, before murmuring, "I thought I said I don’t like to be in anyone’s debt."

You chuckled, the sound soft and lacking any real bite, though it made him glance up with mild surprise. It was clear then that he hadn’t expected that reaction. You, on the other hand, were beginning to see him more clearly with every passing minute.

The perfect version of Choi Soobin in your mind had long since shattered. And now, as he sat there frowning at his own hands like they’d betrayed him, you could finally admit that he was no different from you in the ways that mattered.

You gave the bottle a small shake and then dropped it into his lap, where he fumbled clumsily to catch it.

"You won’t be in my debt," you said evenly, and got to your feet again without waiting to see whether he drank it or not.

Soobin's fingers tightened slightly around the healing vial in his hand, knuckles paling as his eyes lifted slowly, gaze steady in that way of his — still somewhat guarded, but no longer openly confrontational.

"For what?" he asked, a rasp still clinging to the edge of it. "For your silence? Or the fact that you helped me?"

You paused in your step, then turned just enough to glance down at where he sat. The rigidity hadn’t left his posture, and you could see the way he was still watching you like he expected the other shoe to drop. It struck you then, how similar it looked to the way you’d spent half your life waiting, anticipating, calculating. It almost felt like staring at a mirror.

And for once, you couldn’t fault him for it.

"You’re still on guard," you observed, your tone level, not accusing. You turned back to face forward again, keeping your gaze on the opposite wall as you spoke. "Can’t blame you. I’d be, too."

Soobin didn’t respond straight away. But then his voice came, a little rough, the words spoken slowly like he wanted each one to land. "You asked what was in it for you. So how do I — why should I — trust that you’re not just doing all this because it benefits you somehow?"

You didn’t look at him right away. Your gaze flicked to the dim slit of the window, the last strips of sun thinning out like paint against the castle wall, and you exhaled slowly before finally meeting his eyes again.

"You’ve every right to be cautious," you murmured. Then, quietly, as though confessing it more to yourself than him, "I might’ve wanted a transaction earlier. I’d be stupid not to. But I’m not heartless. I couldn’t walk out and leave you there, knowing full well I could help."

The question in his eyes was still there, though fainter now, as though his certainty was beginning to wear thin. And maybe that’s why you said what you did next.

"I’m not what they make me out to be," you said. "Most times, I’m not even close. And you of all people should know what that’s like, shouldn’t you?"

That made his brows draw in, and the crease between them deepened just slightly. You knew he’d caught the implication.

"People see what they want, right? They call you perfect because it suits them. Just like they look at me and see trouble. A Slytherin must be scheming. I’m used to being doubted. But you—" Your voice softened just a notch, not in pity, but in recognition. "You get doubted for the opposite. No room to slip up because you’re the one everyone bets on."

"You don’t know anything about me," he muttered at last, gaze dropping and away from yours.

"I could say the same," you replied without hesitation. "Besides, I’ve seen plenty already."

You watched the storm gather behind his eyes again, but it wasn’t the same as before. There was less bite in it, more weariness. With a sigh, you stepped closer and crouched beside him again, retrieving the vial he still hadn’t opened. "Drink it," you said, holding it up in front of him. "It’ll help. You’re still half out of it, and it’s getting late. They’re probably already wondering where you are."

He hesitated, but finally took it and drank, his throat working through the bitter liquid. You waited, arms draped across your knees. When he lowered the bottle, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth, you didn’t bother sugar-coating the next question.

"Why don’t you want people to see you like this?"

He didn’t look at you, just stared down at his hands. Then, almost like the words slipped out without meaning to, he said, "My worth only matters if I come out on top."

Your head tilted, just slightly. The pieces had been falling into place from the moment you found him, but now they were slotting in too perfectly. You didn’t say anything for a moment. Slowly, you exhaled.

You were beginning to think there wasn’t much point in keeping him leashed by some hollow agreement. He was just as misjudged as you. So you shifted back, sitting on your heels, and said, "Look, I know trust isn’t a word people use around Slytherins. I’m not asking for that. But if it’s fairness you want, then here’s my offer. You agree to help me out when I ask — and in return, I keep this between us. That’s it. Just an even trade."

You watched him closely, saw the flicker in his expression as he tried to process your offer, the way he was weighing the edges of your words. And maybe you should’ve been more idealistic, more kind-hearted, but that wasn’t how you’d learnt to survive.

You hoped he’d say yes — not just for your sake, but because it meant he’d started to see you as more than the house stitched on your robes. But even then, deep down, you knew better than to let your guard down. Because in your world, trust was a currency far more dangerous than gold, and if he ever turned on you, you’d have to do what you always did: survive.

“Alright.”

Soobin couldn’t recall the last time he’d slept properly. His days began far too early, long before the rest of the castle had stirred, trudging into duties that he never had the heart to refuse. The badge stitched into his robes caught the sunlight just right, glinting with every step, as though reminding him of what was expected. He ticked every box, filled every space that others left behind. It was never enough to simply do well; he had to do more. He had to be more.

By the time evening fell, Soobin had already run himself ragged. His nights were riddled with broken naps, eyes shut only to be startled awake by the persistent tug of responsibility. More often than not, he’d catch the sunrise from the dormitory window — bleary-eyed, blanket kicked to the floor, still in uniform from the day before. If he did sleep, it was never for long, and it was never uninterrupted. And yet, every single morning, he would rise and reapply the polish on the version of himself that the world had come to know. He’d fasten the buttons on his robe, draw his tie straight, and pull that mask on with both hands — the one that made people proud of him. The one that made them believe he had it all figured out. The one that hid the parts of him that no one cared to ask about.

He hadn’t even realised, until recently, just how long he’d been wearing it. It had grown into his face like a second skin. He often told himself that he was doing it all for his own sake. That the pursuit of perfection was something he wanted. But if he peeled back the layers, if he really sat down and looked the truth in the eye, he knew it wasn’t that simple. Since he was a child, affection and approval had come tethered to achievement. A good grade earned praise, a trophy won applause, an honour badge earned a pat on the head. It didn’t take long for the boy to understand: his value was conditional and was tied directly to success. And so he adapted. He became whatever was needed of him. The world taught him that love and worth were things to be earned.

So, every morning, he told himself again: this is for me. But behind that mask Soobin was already rotting.

The real him — the raw, tired, fallible boy that existed beneath the accolades and expectations had long been buried beneath a veneer of perfection polished so thoroughly that even he struggled to remember what lived underneath. It wasn’t that he wanted to fool anyone, but the thought of letting that image slip, even by a thread, left him dreading what might be left behind. The fear was always there, crouched at the back of his mind: if he stopped producing, if he slipped up, even once, would he still matter? Would he still be worthy of the praise he’d spent his entire youth collecting? Each day they asked more of him — more excellence, more responsibility, more poise and each day, Soobin gave them all of it with a smile that never reached his eyes. He gave until he had nothing left, and still, the asking never ceased.

No one had ever managed to break through the mask he wore — not classmates, not professors, not even his closest acquaintances who only ever saw the version of him that smiled at the right time, performed when needed, and never once faltered. The hollow part of him, the part hidden behind tired eyes and rehearsed words, had been left untouched. Until you appeared with a sledgehammer and hit it square on his face, cracking the mask in one go.

You, who were supposed to be a stranger.

Soobin hadn’t known what to make of you. He knew your name, of course. You’d both walked the same corridors for years. Sat in the same exam halls. Existed in the same world but it had never collided. He had always been far too consumed with perfecting himself to ever stop and consider the people around him. While yours seemed untouched by that particular strain of madness, carved from a quieter kind of resilience. 

He thought you were the sort who liked to be alone, someone who kept to the shadows by choice. Maybe he hadn’t cared to look beyond the lines he’d drawn in his head. He had never paused to wonder what you might be like beyond the stories told in whispers between students, never thought your paths would cross in a way that mattered.

And now, in the wake of a single moment that had slipped past control, you were there, woven into the edges of his thoughts, tethered to a side of himself he’d worked desperately to conceal. You had seen a part of him that he hadn’t even let himself look at for too long. And Soobin, for all his cleverness, didn’t know how to untangle that without losing hold of the rest.

“Soobin?”

The voice cut clean through his thoughts, sharp enough to pull him back from wherever his mind had wandered. He blinked, turning his head toward the Ravenclaw prefect standing beside him with an expectant look. Right. They were in the middle of an inspection. A lost artefact, supposedly one of the older enchanted trinkets tucked away for display, had gone missing over the weekend, and somehow it had turned into a full-blown investigation. Not that the item held any real threat or value; if anything, Soobin thought the whole affair had been blown grossly out of proportion. He cleared his throat, mustering a faint smile as he straightened up.

“Sorry — what were you saying?”

The prefect, arms folded and brow creased, let out a sigh. “I said we ought to check the dungeons next. The Slytherin prefects have been acting shifty ever since we mentioned rounding up their lot for questioning.” Another groan followed, the boy’s voice carrying an exaggerated drawl. “Honestly, I’ve seen them slinking about corridors they’ve no business being in. Always somewhere they shouldn’t be. Isn’t it obvious who we ought to start with?”

Soobin listened, the words floating past him like smoke, leaving behind only irritation. It had been three days since that afternoon in the storage room — three long days filled with restless thoughts, unspoken questions, and your voice echoing in the corners of his mind: "I’m not what they make me out to be." — "You of all people should know what that’s like." And he did. Merlin help him, he did.

“No,” he said, voice clipped but not raised, the change in tone enough to make the prefect blink. “Leave the Slytherins out of it. Unless you’ve got solid proof, there’s no cause to single them out. You told me the last magic trace showed the artefact was by the lake, didn’t you?” He raised an eyebrow, the smile now gone from his face. “Then if you’re so eager, go dive in and see what you find.”

The prefect’s face coloured with disbelief. He opened his mouth to object, but Soobin cut him off before a single word could leave his lips.

“You’re dismissed.”

The prefect faltered then turned on his heel and stalked off. Soobin’s eyes drifted to the window at the far end of the corridor, to the grey skies outside. Three days, and yet your words still stirred something uncomfortably real in him.

Yes, this was what his mind had become in the aftermath; an utter disarray because of you.

To clear his mind, Soobin had taken to sorting potions in the classroom long before any of the junior students were due to arrive. The room was still and faintly lit by the slanted sunlight pouring through the narrow windows, and for a short while, that silence had granted him the illusion of peace. He busied himself sorting through labelled vials and rattling jars filled with potion ingredients, meticulously aligning them according to the Professor’s usual arrangement, hoping the orderliness would somehow impose itself upon the growing disorder in his mind.

Anything to stop his mind from drifting back to that moment three days ago. Anything to stop thinking about you. And of course, as if summoned by thought alone, the door creaked open.

He froze mid-reach, heart lurching with the sharp recognition that some part of him had known it would be you. You paused in the doorway, your own expression unreadable, but you masked your surprise more effectively than he did. Glancing around at the empty classroom, you ambled in and let a few vials drop onto the surface with a clink.

"You following me now?" you said, tone dry but teasing, your eyes flicking toward him with a faint quirk of your brow.

Soobin, throat dry, feigning a disinterested scoff and muttered, "Don’t flatter yourself."

You smirked faintly, then leaned back against one of the desks. "Word is, someone’s lost a trinket and now the castle’s having a meltdown over it."

He watched your face more than he listened to your words, wondering if you, too, had already been on the receiving end of those narrow-eyed stares and baseless suspicions like the rest of your house? He wouldn’t put it past them. Slytherin had always made for convenient scapegoats. He didn’t know if anyone had singled you out yet, and he wouldn’t ask — but the thought made his chest tighten regardless.

"I’m looking into it," he said at last, hands fiddling with a cork that didn’t need adjustment. "I’m doing what I can to stop people jumping to conclusions. But — well — I mean, I just hope —"

You snorted and held up a hand, cutting him off without needing to raise your voice. "Don’t pity us. Told you, we’re used to it by now. Frankly, it’s getting funny. Watching them scurry around like rats thinking they’ve uncovered something worthwhile. But I will say this — you’re wasting your time rounding us up."

You reached into your robe and pulled out another small vial, turning it over between your fingers before tossing it lightly to the desk beside him. He watched you cross the room with an unhurried gait before you leaned your side against another desk, tilting your head slightly as you continued. "One of your prefect lackeys cornered me yesterday, asked if I’d been out past curfew. Couldn’t lie — of course I had. Have you seen our dorm? Feels like a cupboard on the best of days. Sometimes I need air, that’s all."

His eyes widened, caught off guard by the ease with which you admitted to rule-breaking, and you laughed at the expression he wore.

"Lucky I was out, though. I had such a magnificent view of the Great Lake. You might want to check with the Gryffindor Quidditch lot."

He blinked, processing your words. "Are you sure you saw —"

You shrugged, straightening up, brushing past him with a careless grace. "Up to you, Head Boy. Whether you believe me or not, that’s your decision."

Just before stepping out, you gave him a languid wave over your shoulder. Just like that you were gone, leaving him standing there amidst the shelves and sunlight and questions.

Soobin stood unmoving for several long moments, your words echoing louder than he’d expected. There was no logic in doubting you — not when everything you’d done until now pointed away from manipulation. Besides, you had every reason not to help him. Perhaps it was your way of keeping the suspicion away from your house, now that you had him at a disadvantage. Or were you truly doing it because you simply could?

Either way, the more he thought of you, the less sense you made, and the more you occupied his thoughts.

But for now, he had to take a chance. A risk, yes — but one rooted in instinct. By mid-afternoon, he had assembled his group of prefects and approached the Gryffindor Quidditch team. What followed sent a ripple through the castle by sundown: sure enough, buried beneath spare brooms and scattered playbooks, the artefact was found, tucked into a leather duffle that bore the team’s crest.

The case, to the astonishment of many, was closed within hours.

In the Great Hall, under the enchanted ceiling dimming into evening stars, Soobin had been summoned to the front of the room and praised, his name ringing out across the four long tables amid applause and murmured admiration. He bowed his head politely, offered the required responses, accepted the accolades — but it felt hollow. 

Because the truth sat heavily in his chest: the success wasn’t his. It all felt wrong because it wasn’t his doing.

As his eyes swept over the Slytherin table, he found you seated among the others, your chin propped on your palm, your expression as unreadable as ever. But you were watching him. He held your gaze, his shoulders slumped with the breath leaving him in a slow sigh. If his eyes could speak, he hoped they’d managed to say the words he couldn’t voice aloud, not here.

You did this.

You smiled faintly, a small twitch of your lips before you looked away.

The applause continued, but Soobin could no longer hear it properly over the ringing in his ears. The recognition refused to sit right. Praise meant nothing when it was built on someone else’s truth. If the system failed to acknowledge how to recognise the likes of you, someone had to.

Because he, at least, knew the full story — and he wasn’t about to forget it.

For as long as you could remember, sleep had never been something that came easily to you. It was a fickle guest at best, arriving uninvited and leaving without warning, more often absent than present. There were stretches of time where your nights blurred into each other, endless hours spent staring at the ceiling of your dormitory, thoughts circling like vultures over carrion, refusing to give you peace. On nights when the insomnia bit harder than you could handle, you would find yourself wandering beneath the stars, seeking calm in the open air and high arches of the Astronomy Tower. It had long since become your refuge, a haven away from the noise, both external and internal.

Draped in shadows and starlight, the tower had always felt like another world entirely, a secret space far removed from the buzz and bustle of daily life. Up there, it was just you and the sky, the stretch of it so vast it made your problems feel smaller, if only for a little while. Over time, the late hours had become sacred, a carved-out slice of the day that belonged solely to you. You knew the patrol schedule of the prefects by heart, memorised the patterns of their rounds and adjusted your movements accordingly, weaving yourself between the gaps they left behind. It was a routine that had served you well for years, earned and protected with vigilance.

So when you reached the floor just beneath the tower that night, bleary-eyed from another restless stretch and wrapped in your usual cloak of solitude, it came as a rude jolt to realise your calculations had, for once, failed you. The faint scuff of approaching footsteps told you someone else was near, and your brain kicked into high alert, racing to concoct a plausible diversion or escape plan that might buy you time. But your mind never had the opportunity to come up with a plan.

A strong hand caught your arm, and before you could so much as draw a breath, you were pulled into a narrow alcove, swallowed by shadows. Another hand came over your mouth firmly and you froze in alarm. Your heart thundered in your chest as your back hit the cool stone of an alcove wall. You blinked trying to restore your disoriented vision in the dark and when your vision steadied, you saw Soobin.

He was pressed close, his body angled between yours and the faint light spilling in from the corridor, and he looked at you with a warning glint in his eyes as he brought a finger to his lips, silently urging you not to make a sound. You stared at him, stunned into silence, and after a long beat, he slowly withdrew his hand from your mouth and stepped back. The sudden lack of contact made the air feel colder somehow, and you drew in a sharp breath as if recovering from a plunge underwater.

From where you stood, tucked away in the shadows, you listened to him speak with another prefect. His tone was levelled as he dismissed her presence with a few convincing words about being on patrol and already checking the area. Eventually, the sound of footsteps receded down the staircase.

You remained still until you were certain the coast was clear, then turned your head toward him. He leaned against the entrance of the alcove, arms crossed over his chest, and for a moment there was something almost rueful in the way he looked at you.

"Had a feeling you’d be here tonight," he said, voice softer than you expected.

You eyed him warily; instinct dictated your response. Your brow arched, tone dry as ever. "So you are following me."

To your surprise, he laughed — a proper one, soft but genuine, and you found yourself momentarily thrown. It wasn’t the reaction you’d expected, and as the sound settled, you noticed how it pulled deeper creases at the corners of his eyes. His dimple deepened, and though you’d never admit it aloud, your gaze lingered on it a moment too long.

He motioned his head toward the staircase. "Come on."

You hesitated for a heartbeat before following him up the remaining flight, steps silent against the worn stone. When you reached the top, he didn’t speak immediately, simply moved to one side to let you pass through the archway that opened into the Astronomy Tower. The wind tugged faintly at your hair, and above, the sky stretched wide and blinking with stars.

"I was wondering," he said eventually, glancing sidelong at you, "if you wanted to seal our transaction."

That caught your attention. You regarded him with narrowed eyes. "Oh? What do you propose?"

He exhaled slowly, as though choosing his words with care. "Top floors are part of my patrol area. I usually take the tower last, so it’s clear most nights. You could use it — whenever you like, really."

You tilted your head, assessing him, weighing the truth in his words against the instinct that had long since taught you to doubt everyone. He seemed to sense it because his voice softened, the bravado peeling back just slightly.

"It’s my way of saying thank you. And... I’m sorry. For the things I said back in the storage room. The way I looked at you then. If using the tower brings you any kind of peace, then maybe it’ll bring me some too. Knowing I could give you something in return."

You scoffed at his words, startled perhaps, but far too practised at hiding it to let the slip show for long, and as always, you reached for the oldest armour in your arsenal: deflection. “You do realize I didn’t do anything grand for you, right?”

Soobin didn’t so much as blink at your reply. If anything, he looked rather resigned to hearing it, offering a soft nod that seemed more of a confirmation to himself than a response meant for you. “Yep. Had a feeling you’d say that,” he murmured, then he held out a hand, as though proposing a treaty. "Truce?"

Your gaze dropped to his outstretched hand, studying it as though it were a foreign object before your expression twisted with incredulity, arms crossing in front of your chest in a motion that was part self-protection, part calculated provocation. “And access to the Restricted Section whenever I need it. You’ll cover for me,” you bargained smoothly.

One of his brows arched, and though his expression remained composed, there was the faintest flicker of exasperation in his eyes, perhaps even reluctant amusement at your audacity. “I don’t even have permission to enter that place myself,” he replied, the protest lacking any real conviction.

You only shrugged, unbothered. “Yes, but you’ll be let off the hook far more easily than I would, wouldn’t you? I’ll take advantage of that,” you said, voice light but the meaning underneath it anything but.

A long sigh escaped him, and he brought his fingers up to rub at his temples as though your very presence were both a headache and puzzle. You raised your hand with theatrical flair, interrupting him with a disarming smile that hinted at mischief rather than apology.

“I think that evens out the weight of our deals. I’m being so terribly generous by keeping your secret, after all. Surely you can manage this much for me in return. Unless —” You tilted your head, letting the smirk curl lazily across your lips. “Your saintliness is repulsed by my sins?”

That drew a comical snort out of him, and he shook his head, shoulders dropping a touch as though conceding the match, if only this round. He turned without answering, crossing the space to where a weathered satchel lay slumped against the stone wall of the tower. From it, he pulled a book bearing the tell-tale signs of having been plucked from the shelves no ordinary student was meant to touch. 

When he held it out to you, you didn’t move to take it right away. Your brows drew together, gaze narrowing as it moved between the book and his face. “You don’t have permission to enter the Restricted Section, you say?” you asked slowly as the implication sank in.

Because it was obvious now — to get that book, he would have had to slip past more than one barrier, and likely break more than a few rules. The smile on his lips told you he hadn’t borrowed it under anyone’s good graces. He’d gone in himself, without approval and permission.

He didn’t look the least bit remorseful. If anything, there was a flicker of pride in the way he stepped closer, extending the book again, as though this too were part of the truce. “As you can see, I’m no saint,” he said with a soft laugh bordering on irony. “You already know that, don’t you?”

Then came the grin again, lopsided and strangely genuine in a way that didn’t suit the polished Head Boy the rest of the school had come to revere. “We’re sharing sins.”

You looked down at his hand again. The very hands that had been manacled to yours by shared sins and lighthearted transactions, as though the pair of you had sealed some farcical pact made in jest. Who could have predicted that those same hands would soon find themselves bound in matters far graver, knotted into secrets far more treacherous, tangled in deeds that could not be wiped clean with a simple curfew excuse or concealing secrets? 

You shook his hand once, a simple act that now bore the full weight of a promise neither of you could have fully understood at the time. That was where it began — the point from which everything gradually, almost imperceptibly, began to shift. What started as necessity quickly became habit, and habit became familiarity, until even the strangeness of it began to fade into routine.

It surprised you, how quickly the pattern formed. The corridors would be vacant by the time you arrived, just as he had said, and you no longer had to move with the same guarded tread or cast furtive glances over your shoulder. He would appear after his patrol, and there would be a brief exchange of acknowledgement before you two went into your bubbles.

Most nights passed in that strange parallel silence, with the only sound being the occasional turning of a page. He studied a lot, not just schoolwork but obscure texts filled with difficult incantations, ancient theory, and dense paragraphs even the professors didn’t bother assigning. Sometimes he muttered to himself, testing wordless charms under his breath, barely more than a whisper of intent and flicks of his wand. Other times, he simply fell asleep.

You would watch, faintly incredulous, as his posture would slacken and his chin drop slowly to his chest. There were nights he barely lasted twenty minutes before nodding off, and you had to wonder if he really lacked that much awareness or if he was just that used to trusting no one would disturb him.

Or worse, if he thought you would be kind enough to rouse him when it was time to leave.

He’d be disappointed if he thought you’d be that nice. You weren’t his minder. Yet each time, as if on cue, you found yourself going back to your words; fingers tapping his shoulder or nudging his arm with a muttered, "It’s time."

The days rolled into weeks. There were nights when the silence gave way to words without preamble. One such night found you with your back resting against the cold surface of a column, head tilted back to peer up at the invisible sky beyond the high windows, while Soobin lay sprawled nearby on his back, his arms folded over his midriff. The silence between you transformed into something so harmless now that when he spoke, it didn't feel jarring.

"Mind if I talk?" he asked, not so much seeking permission as gauging whether your presence was receptive to it tonight.

You said nothing, only glanced down at him briefly before returning your gaze upwards, and by now, he knew you well enough to take that for a yes.

"I don’t reckon I’ve slept properly in weeks," he murmured after a moment, as though he didn’t expect an answer, and perhaps didn’t even want one.

You wanted to respond — your nights hadn’t been restful either, not for years now — but instead you stayed still, allowing him to continue.

"There’s always something more to revise, more to commit to memory, more to get just right. If I’m not top of the class, it’s like I’ve failed — like I’m squandering the whole bloody point of it, whatever 'it' is meant to be."

There was a note of distance in his voice now, like he was repeating something someone else had once said to him, or perhaps something he’d told himself so often it had begun to lose all meaning. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling, but they weren’t really seeing it, and when his hand came up to drag across his face, it was with a weariness that seemed to sit in his bones.

"I don’t even know what I’m chasing any longer," he said, pressing his fingertips beneath his eyes, as if he could force back the shadows clinging to them. His voice had lowered further still. He took in a breath, one that hitched slightly at the end. "I reckon most people think I enjoy it — the marks, the badges, the praise. That I live for it. I’ve never said otherwise, have I? That’s probably my own fault." He gave a shrug then, though it looked rather more like his shoulders were folding in on themselves than offering any real dismissal.

Maybe no one had ever asked. You didn’t reply, but you did shift slightly, sock-covered toes flexing beneath your robe as your thumb found the edge of a loose thread at your knee. You rolled it between your fingers, not to fidget, but to keep your hands occupied while your thoughts tangled around his words.

They weren’t revelations, not really — not anymore. Over the course of these late nights, in snatched looks and half-conversations, you had begun to fully piece together a version of Soobin that didn’t match the one paraded around the castle like some living trophy. He’d carried the image so well, you supposed people had stopped asking what lay beneath it. You weren’t even sure if he could see over it himself anymore.

You’d suspected as much weeks ago. Merlin, you’d known from the moment you found him in that cramped storage room, folded in on himself with tears slipping down his face like he was trying to shed everything that made him human.

He wasn’t held together by certainty or pride, but by the sheer pressure of never being allowed to fall behind. He lived in a world of ‘musts’ and ‘shoulds,’ where stepping out of line meant failing entirely. And you — well, you had come to see it far more clearly than you’d intended.

"If I stop," he said, voice thinner now, barely carrying across the distance between you, "it’ll look like I’ve given up. But if I keep going like this, I’ll fall apart." He said it as a truth he'd long since resigned himself to.

So you picked the option where no one notices. You didn’t say it out loud, but the thought crossed your mind anyway, bitter still not untrue.

You glanced at him though all you could really look at were his hands. One brushed a loose string on his sleeve, then curled into a fist. They were restless. He hadn’t looked your way once.

“You’re not very good at taking your own side,” you said eventually. Your voice wasn’t cruel. 

He gave a brief snort, as though the truth of it didn’t surprise him. “I’ve not the faintest clue how,” he said, voice dry. “I think — I think I’ve only ever been taught how to win. No one ever mentioned what to do if I decided to lose on purpose. Or if I just lost.”

You shifted again, rolling your head to the side to look at him, your cheek pressed to your forearm, eyes sharp in the shadows. The air was beginning to bite more now somehow, the stone floor colder beneath your robes, but you didn’t move beyond that small adjustment.

"That sounds like a miserable way to live."

He remained silent, then softly, "It is."

No words were shared for a few minutes. You sat with everything he said, not sure whether to add anything, or whether adding anything would cheapen it. It felt like he took a part of his heart out and forced you to hold the bleeding piece. And now it sat in your hands, raw and uncomfortable, a truth so vulnerable you didn’t know if you had the right to hold it. Your hands were now tainted. 

His titles and image walked into rooms before he did. His perfection gave people something to admire, but it never gave them a reason to look closer.

“I’ve got people saying they admire me,” he added eventually, the words shaped around a humourless laugh, “saying they’d always be there if I needed. But do I really have anyone I can rely on?” 

He said it like a question, but you weren’t sure he wanted an answer. He was lonely. Far lonelier than you’d guessed.

“Is that why you were crying that day?” you asked carefully. 

He smiled, if only faintly. “Had no one to talk to. So I tucked myself away till I couldn’t take it anymore.”

He turned then, rolling onto his side to face you properly, one hand folded beneath his head. That smile remained, though it didn’t touch his eyes. “What about you?”

You frowned. “What about me?”

“Why do you always seek control?”

“To survive,” you answered plainly.

But it was enough for soobin. Because he wasn’t a fool, and the truth had been clear to him for a while now. Ever since those strange, shared hours in the storage room brought your paths colliding, he’d had to confront a version of you that defied every assumption he’d once held. You, who always seemed self-possessed and untouched by opinion, had wormed your way into his orbit without propriety, and now, there you remained: fixed and constant and increasingly difficult to ignore. You were in his periphery in ways you hadn’t been before, cropping up in spaces he’d never registered you in, though now, he wondered how he could’ve possibly missed you.

His gaze had become trained on the people around you — he observed the way others spoke to you, the glances exchanged in corridors, the narrowed eyes in classrooms and he noted the subtleties most others overlooked. The treatment wasn’t always cruel, but it was pointed, and it was frequent. Soobin, who had lived much of his life under the soft glow of admiration and expectation, found it easy to see the difference. And in those differences, he understood you better than he expected to.

And you, though less willing to admit it, had started seeing him too. Not just in this shared nightly hour you had, but in your own time, when you caught yourself glancing up in the corridors to find him already there, or letting your gaze pause just a fraction too long when he passed by your table in the Great Hall. He seemed more present now than before, more noticeable, though you weren’t sure whether it was him changing or you. Your eyes knew to find him. And perhaps his had done the same.

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it all. The change wasn’t entirely uncomfortable but it made you wary. That was a more simple way to put it. You, who had learnt better than to give in to soft comforts, couldn’t help but question it. After years of distrust, of guarding yourself against shallow kindness and false smiles, how could you begin to allow anyone in? Even someone who had, bit by bit, begun to pull away at your corners without trying.

For Soobin, it was different. The change felt like breathing for the first time in too long. It confused him, yes, left him reeling in the early days, but it also peeled back that internal tautness he never quite realised he lived with. You with all your blunt remarks and unreadable silences had given him a kind of space he didn’t know he needed. You saw him when he didn’t have anything to offer. You didn’t praise him, didn’t expect him to prove himself, and didn’t look away when the cracks showed. And that had shaken him. Because it meant, for the first time in a long while, he wasn’t terrified of not being enough.

You were always being watched before you were known.

And he was always being looked at, but never really seen.

There was a sharp clarity in it now, the way you mirrored one another in temperament, in guardedness, in how you both wore your defence mechanisms like second skin. He had begun to see through yours, just as you had peeled back his. He knew you kept your heart barricaded not because there was nothing within, but because you had been given far too many reasons to lock it away. And yet, there it was, beating still.

He thought, perhaps selfishly, that if you'd let him, he could be someone you could rely on — just as he had slowly come to rely on you.

“Thank you for listening to me,” he said at length, and though his tone lacked embellishment, there was a sincerity to it that caught you off guard, not because you doubted its truth but because you rarely knew what to do with such honesty when it landed so plainly.

Your eyes snapped toward him, but by then he had turned away, flat on his back again, his face tilted towards the terrace and eyes closed as if he’d already begun to retreat from the moment. Your chest tightened, a discomfort blooming somewhere near your ribs. It wasn’t just his gratitude that disarmed you, but the fact that he meant it and it wasn’t something you were used to.

The air around you tightened. Though you rarely backed down from anything, your mind recoiled before you could think better of it.

“I’m heading back early tonight,” you said briskly, already rising on your feet. There was no sharpness to it, just a faint breathlessness. “Goodnight, Soobin.”

Soobin didn’t question it. He merely nodded once, eyes still closed, and let you go. Maybe he understood. Or maybe he didn’t care. You weren’t sure which would’ve unsettled you more.

Your steps echoed slightly as you made your way down the spiraling stairs, one hand pressed to the stone wall to keep balance, not that it mattered — it was your breath that threatened to slip, your thoughts that began to fray at the edges. You didn’t know what this meant or what tonight would become, if it became anything at all — but as you slipped down into the darkness, one thing had been made clear. Whatever had passed between you tonight, it was not the sort of thing that vanished come morning.

Whether you spoke of it again or not, you’d both remember.

To be continued.

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[beomiracles]

𝓞𝐅 𝓢𝐍𝓞𝐖 𝓐𝐍𝐃 𝓢𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝓔𝐑𝓔𝐃 𝓦𝓘𝐍𝐆𝐒

𝓓𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝓔𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐘 ⸝⸝ Foolish girl. You should know better than to wander up the snowy and cold mountains all by yourself. Yet you march onward, not caring for the biting frost as you draw your coat tighter around yourself. The tales told by your old grandfather had been enough to fuel your curiosity, to push the bounds of danger as you sought to see the dragons for yourself. — Perhaps you got more than you bargained for when you suddenly stumble across the one everyone thought to be extinct; the ice dragon. ⸝⸝

𝓹airing dragon!taehyun x human!reader (f) 𝔀arnings descriptions of injuries/blood, supernatural au, kissing, character death (not main), shitty and poor writing, lowkey rushed toward the end, kills myself.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ wc, 14.1k ་༘࿐

#serene adds ✎.. my contribution to The Veils Of Aethera which is kind of very shit and probably the worst piece I have ever written (I'm exaggerating, maybe..) no but theres a lot of plot holes, which I did not have time to fill out but could definitely explain if someone wants me to, because in my head I have all the answers and um yes. I haven't proofread this once and I'm not going to because im nic sick off my ass and also on the verge of just falling asleep hm, anyway I love u guys heh please don't be mad at me for posting something so below my usual level >-<

ONCE UPON A TIME… In a land far far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky, and the water sparkled under the glowing sun. Where mountains rose high and in which long, deep caves ran. Where the sea met shore in a collision of tall waves. Where the undead walked among the living. Where the winged flew above the finned. In a land where things beyond any reason and rhyme existed. And amongst those very beings, within the veils of Aethera, there was… 

FIRE, burning hotter than the sun. Orange and yellow flames dancing before your very eyes, their warmth caressing your face, shunning the cold around and embracing you. Fire warm enough to kill, if they wanted to. — Turning forests into ash, melting even the firmest of steel armor, incinerating entire kingdoms with one mere breath. 

The dragon’s powerful roar echoes over the mountain tops, loud enough for trees to shake. Even the wind gave way as they soared through the sky. Large wings slapping against the cool air as they danced through the clouds. Untamed beasts, that’s how most described them. Wild and fueled only by their desire and rage to destroy everything around them. 

Few humans were fortunate enough to face one of these creatures and live to tell the tale. But the ones that did were graced with luck for many generations to come. These humans, those who sought not to fight but to learn about these beasts, were a different kind of people. Reckless in the eyes of other humans but courageous in the eyes of the dragon. 

Together they conquered the skies, not as two but as one. Their souls connected with one another as they played a game of perfect synchronization. Moving swiftly in the dark, silently communicating with nothing but the twitch of a muscle. It was a different kind of understanding, a mutual one, a bond that ran far deeper than any other. 

A raspy cough slices through the image of the dark fiery dragon gliding through the sky and your attention immediately shifts to the old man in front of you. — “Grandpa! Are you alright?” Quickly rising to your feet, you scurry toward the old man as you kneel before him. He gives a weak nod, dismissing you with the wave of his wrinkly hand. 

“I’m fine, dearest..” He mutters, though the strain of his voice betrays his words. Still, you nod as your thumbs caress the back of his hand. “Now, where was I? — Ah yes, the dragons..” He shifts in his chair, the blanket slipping from his legs, and you rush to shove it back in place. Your old grandpa clears his throat as he prepares to continue. 

“You see there were these formations they would do in the air and–” — “Alfred, that’s quite enough.” The brisk voice of your aunt, Fiona, pierces through the air. She sways by the doorway, her arms folded neatly across her chest as her dark gaze narrowed on your grandpa. With a small grumble he adjusts himself in his seat, muttering something about Fiona being “a persistent know-it-all.” 

Your aunt doesn’t seem to care for his bitterness, for she did not enjoy hearing him talk about those “creatures” as she referred to them as. Instead she brushes past you, her arms wrapping around the old man as she helps him to his feet. “Enough about those lizards, come to bed.” — With a small glance over her shoulder, she addresses you in a most derogatory tone. “Make use of yourself out in the garden will you? Your grandpa needs to rest.” 

The sun is warm against your face as you squint toward it. Your aunt had a lovely garden, situated just on the edge of the forest, by the very far end of the kingdom. Humming along to the soft tune of a slow melody, your hands busy themselves with hanging the damp garments on the clothesline that was tied between two posts. 

A gentle breeze makes the wet fabric sway in the wind and you skip out of its way as you reach for one of the dresses. — “Thought I told you to let those things go.” The voice of your aunt slices through the relaxing atmosphere. She bends down to pick a pair of smaller pants from the basket, belonging to your younger cousin. 

Even if her words remained vague and dismissing, there was no doubt that she was referring to the stories she’d walked in on your grandpa sharing, yet again. When your silence has gone on for a good minute she continues, “You know how he gets, going on and on about that nonsense..” Fiona huffs as she gives the pants a harsh shake before folding them across the string. 

“But I should like to hear him out- His stories are beyond interesting, and he’s delighted to share them!” You chime in, a small, hopeful smile stretching across your lips. It was true, to reminisce about the tales of his youth seemed to be the only thing that brought your grandfather any sort of joy these days. It made the wrinkles around his eyes deepen when he smiled, a low breathy laugh rumbling within his chest. 

Your aunt Fiona shoots you a pointed look, her attention then drifting back to the damp clothes. “That is all that they are, stories. But your old grandpa does not seem to know the difference between tales and truth anymore.” She heaves a sigh as she turns to you, “Lest us not make matters worse by encouraging these…fantasies.” Her tone was final, like a large wooden door being slammed shut in your face. You held your tongue, returning to your chores as the day continued on. 

Dinner was chaotic, as it always was. With plates clattering against the small wooden table and glasses being tipped over. Your younger cousins bickered, their loud and whiny voices filling the cramped room. “Boys! Enough.” Fiona looks tired when placing the large pot of soup on the middle of the table, in the center of the whirlwind. The twins however, immediately quiet down though they continue to glower at one another. 

“He started it!” William shouts as he points to his brother, Theodore, who merely shakes his head. “Did not!” — “Did too!” For each time their whining voices grew all the louder, soon overpowering any coherent thought you might have. A small tap to your side diverts your attention from the arguing taking place. Mira, your youngest cousin, points to the jug of water, silently requesting you give her some. 

She was quiet, awfully so, in fact you don’t think you’d heard hear utter more than three words during meal time. You oblige by pouring her a glass, setting the jug back just in time for your aunt to give the twins a harsh tug to their ears, making them protest loudly. — “Give your mother a break will ya?” Her voice is harsh, leaving a thick silence behind as she lets go of her sons and takes a seat by the high end of the table. 

Opposite your aunt Fiona, sits your grandfather. He seems lost in thought as his wrinkly fingers play with the spoon on his hand. Everyone is now turning his way, waiting patiently for him to begin eating. It was customary to let the oldest man of the house eat before anyone else, and usually your grandpa was not late to indulge… Today, he seems distracted. 

“Father, are you not hungry?” Your aunt tries as she leans forward, gripping her own spoon tightly. You watch as his brows raise on his aged forehead, and your grandfather hums as his gaze drops to the bowl before him, as if he’d just realized its presence. — “Huh..” He huffs, readjusting his grip on the silverware as he stirs the warm soup. “Oh yes..” He murmurs, bringing a spoonful to his lips as he begins to eat. 

Everyone sighs in relief, all following as they, too, begin to feast. For some reason you find yourself unable to. Your gaze lingers by your old grandpa, noting the slight tremble to his hand and the effort it took for him to swallow. Often did you worry for his health, for how long you had left with him. Regardless of his condition, there was little you could do for him. It pained you greatly. 

Just like everynight, you tucked your grandpa in before bed. He’d gotten quite disoriented during later months and needed help getting from one place to another. With your arm around his weak frame, another one waiting to assist, you move him from his rocking chair and over to the soft mattress. — “There you go, pops. — Careful with your knees.” 

Your grandfather scoffs as he waves a dismissing hand your way. “Enough dear, these legs used to conquer battlefields, they shan’t submit to a short walk..” Still, there was an undeniable tremble to him as he slowly lowered himself onto the bed. — Only once you’d drawn the thick blanket over him, did he finally seem at ease once more. 

He hums to a foreign melody as you fiddle with the oil lamp on his bedside table. — “Ah, did I tell you about that one time… The one where I met a sundragon head on?” Your grandpa stifles a cough against his palm before shaking his head lightly. Though his train of thought was cut short when you place a gentle hand on his chest. 

“It’s getting late pops, you need to rest.” The smile you send him is far from convincing and you quickly avoid his piercing gaze as you adjust the lamp one final time. You never turned down one of his stories, even if you’d heard it a hundred times before. He was bound to catch onto it, and he did. The sounds of sheets rustling rings in your ears as he props himself up on a weak elbow. 

“Did my daughter tell you to stop encouraging me?” 

It wasn’t a question but a statement. Despite your reluctance, you slowly admit to it as you give a meek nod. Your gaze trains to your hands as they rest in your lap, seated on the edge of his bed. Your grandpa makes a small noise of disbelief as he thumps back against the mattress. “Just as stubborn as her mother..” He mutters as he gazes up at the ceiling. 

For a moment, a still silence fills the small bedroom, nothing but the wind tearing through the trees outside to be heard. Then your old grandfather suddenly speaks again. “Your aunt has every reason to resent those creatures, given what happened to my father..” — Your ears perk up at the mention of your great grandfather. He was, according to your grandpa, a man like no else. One who not only faced the dragons but even soared through the sky alongside them. 

Well, at least until… Your grandpa’s hoarse voice interrupts your scattered thoughts. “I do not blame her”, he murmurs, sounding almost melancholic. Yet you’re able to catch the undeniable glint in his eyes, the one that would shine whenever he spoke of his past. “Still…”, he coughs, a low and weasel sound, “I would like to see them one last time.” 

“To see the dragons once more, that is my final wish.” 

𓍼ོ

The very next morning is cold, a lot colder than a typical summer one in Aethera. You tug your coat tighter around yourself, even your gloved hands slowly succumbing to the biting frost. It’s early, much so that the sun itself has yet to rise over the horizon. — Quietly, you slip out of your aunt's small cottage, sealing the door shut behind you as you give a final glance over your shoulder. 

Your footsteps crunch against the leaves and twigs as you make your way through the thick and dense forest. Nature around you was still asleep, at least, most of it. You did not dare stop to think about what kind of creatures roamed these woods, what kind of entities lingered in its shadows.. A shiver runs down your spine and you shudder before pushing those thoughts aside, marching forward with hasty steps. 

And soon enough, the trees part, making way for the large mountains ahead. With newfound eagerness, you rush forward, more than ready to leave the dark forest behind as you emerge from the treeline. — You pause, finding yourself in complete awe as you stare up at large stones, crafted by nature itself, their tops covered in a bright blanket of white snow. 

Here you were bound to find what you were looking for. Dragons. Determined to fulfill your grandfather’s dying wish, the least you could do was set out to bring back the one thing he sought to see the most. You knew a lot about dragons, well, as much as he’d let on to in his stories. Still, the thought of seeing one up close.. It made your stomach tingle. 

But the mountain is a lot crueler than you’d anticipated. The hike to the top is unforgiving, tearing your limbs apart as your body aches. You’re panting, knee deep in thick snow as you battle against the harsh winds. In spite of it being late July, the harsh conditions of the Frosty Peaks seemed to know no bounds as it served you whiplash after whiplash. 

Frantically your gaze searches for an entrance, for any way to access the mountain. Your grandpa had long ago told you about the dark caves dragons resided in. “They’re quite tricky to find, not something you would just stumble upon. — A dragon’s nest is its most treasured place.” That’s what he’d said. 

You knew to look for small, almost unnoticeable anomalies. Something that any other bypasser would mistake for nature's misfortune. A twisted branch, a cracked stone.. The cold wind hurls against you, making an almost ear piercing screeching noise. You can no longer feel your face as you keep your gaze trained to the ground, intently looking for something, anything that would give way to an opening. 

But you come up short. There was nothing here. It felt like you’d been climbing this mountain for forever. It was never ending, everywhere you turned there was just snow upon snow upon snow. Every rock and every tree looked the same, perhaps you’d been walking in circles. What if you couldn’t find your way home, what if you were to freeze to death upon this quiet mountain, all alone and shivering as you take your last breaths.  

The lantern you had brought along had burned out, yet you clutched it tightly as you stumbled forward. With your head bowed and your desperate eyes seeking what you thought to be the impossible, you’re unable to foresee the snare that protrudes through the white snow, not until it’s too late. It catches around your wrist, causing you to yelp as you fall forward. 

It’s cold, it’s so cold that it burns. The hard ground caresses your tired body, the soil beneath welcoming you. With shaky hands you brace yourself against the mountain, daring to lift your head only an inch, wincing at the pain that throbbed within. “Ow..” You whine, clutching your temple as you screw your eyes shut. 

When you open them again is when you see it. At first you didn’t know whether to cry or to laugh. In disbelief your gaze flickers between the lily that was currently in full bloom, thriving in deep snow, and over to the opening presented before you. — Unbelievable. 

Excitement coursed through your veins as you scramble to your feet, eager to escape the menacing wind. It’s without thinking twice that you dart for the cave’s opening, throwing yourself inside with a relieved sigh. Your soft pants leave small clouds of cold in their wake, and you lean against the wet stone walls as you catch your breath. 

With wary eyes you survey your surroundings, taking in the endless pit of darkness that awaits you. The cave curved in a C-like shape, and the sounds of water quietly dropping from its ceiling fills the otherwise eerie silence. — It takes you a moment to re-light your lantern, but once you have, its warm glow manages to bring you at least some sense of comfort. 

Your hesitant footsteps bounce off the wet cavern walls as you delve deeper into the mountain. With your lantern held high, it guides you through the passages, an unexplainable tug at your chest urging you forward. Perhaps you should turn back, perhaps this had been a bad idea. After all, you did not know anything about dragons apart from what your grandfather had told you.— Was this really such a good idea? 

A turn to your left leads you onto an even darker path, and you feel a shiver crawl down your spine, sending a shockwave of nervosity through you. With a small gulp, you readjust your grip on the lantern, its light casting your face in yellow-ish hues. — So far there was not a single sign of any other living being, and you had been listening to nothing but your own shaky exhales for the past twenty minutes. 

Just when you had begun to consider retreat, did the tip of your shoe crash against something hard. Not being able to catch yourself in time, you stumble forward a second time that day. But this time, there’s no snow to catch you, and you hit the hard and cold cave floor with a loud crash. 

“Ow..” Your groan pierces the thick silence, and you wince as you grab ahold of your already pounding head. Not again you sigh. Everything hurt, your body felt sore and bruised, you could only imagine how you looked beneath all your layered clothes. 

Upon turning around, you find that what you had tripped over had been not a stone, not an overly large branch or any other of nature’s call. No, this was something entirely different… With squinting eyes you peer down at what appeared to be scales covering something the size of a smaller tree trunk. Confused you glance around in search of your lantern, it had slipped from your grasp during your fall. 

You find it a few feet away, gingerly shuffling over as you retrieve it. Thankfully the flames within were still alive and you cradled it close as you turned back to the strange scaled thing you had tripped over, only to find it gone. — Your heart catches in your throat, making your eyes widen and the lantern threatening to crash against the ground once more. 

A cold and harsh puff of air hits your back, hard. You gulp, slowly and carefully turning around as you clutch the lamp in trembling hands. Immediately your gaze falls on the exact same scales you’d seen just moments prior. White and smooth, perfectly covering four large legs, your attention fixates on the long and sharp claws on its feet. Then over to the almost translucent and magnificent looking wings, neatly tucked against its sides. 

Dread fills you when you realize that what you had tripped over had been its at least 10 ft long tail. With a gawking expression you watch as said tail curls around its body. In almost cinematic slow motion does your gaze shift toward its head, where sharp canines rested in its mouth. There was no doubt that this was exactly what you had come here looking for. 

“A dragon..” 

The words leave your lips before you can stop them. Your soft whisper of disbelief carrying out into the cold air. It looked stoic, yet far from the dragon's your grandfather had described. This was not the dark and fire-spitting beasts he’d told you about, this was… A wet droplet splashes against your cheek and you glance up to find icicles peering down at you from the ceiling, their pointy ends looking ready to pounce. 

A low huff brings your attention back to the creature before you, just in time to watch as it cracks an eye open. Its ice blue irises a stark contrast to the narrow slits of its pupils. This dragon did not hold the gaze of warmth and fire. — It held one of ice cold death. 

You stumble backward on trembling legs. The wet and hard cave wall feels like daggers against your back when you crash against it. Your breath comes out in jagged pants, your heart beating through your chest as you realize the dangers of your situation. The plan had been to watch them from afar, to silently slip away as if nothing had happened when you had gotten what you’d come here for. The plan did however, not include coming face to face with one of them. To become trapped within the cold and eerie darkness of these caves with the very beings that ruled them. 

With fear in your eyes, you watch as the dragon rises to its feet. Cold blue eyes locked on your small figure as you stay pressed against the wall, cowering before it. The sounds of its heavy steps echo between the icicles hanging from the ceiling, it makes the floor shake and rocks move as it slowly makes its way closer. 

You can feel its chilly breath all over you, freezing your already damp and shivering body tenfold. You screw your eyes shut as you turn your head away, preparing yourself for the fate inevitably to come. — Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. You should’ve listened to your aunt. You had been a fool to believe your old grandpa. You should have never come here and you should have never woken this beast. 

But the sharp and soaring pain of its large canines never came. And when what feels like an eternity has passed, you finally dare crack an eye open. Your vision is clouded by blues and whites, its nose hovering inches from your face. You couldn’t understand why it hadn’t made another move to attack you, to snap your frail body in half and rid itself of your invading presence. 

The dragon only watches you, the slow waves of cold air washing over you when it exhales. You swallow, gaze drifting down its long and majestic body as you wait for death to come. It is then you realize that something was wrong. There, tarnishing the translucent hue of its large wing is a large and ugly crack. Dark crimson spills from it in dramatic fashion as it taints the dragon’s shattered wing. 

It was hurt. 

A pang of sympathy washes over you at the sight. The frantic beating of your heart faltering for a short moment as you exhale the sigh you’d been holding in. The dragon seems to notice where your attention lays and immediately covers itself up by tucking its wing to its side. — A low, predatory sound builds in its chest, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to rise as you will down a gulp. 

It pulls back, and for a second you think it might retreat. But instead it opens its terrifyingly large jaw, presenting you with rows upon rows of teeth sharp as swords. You want to scream, but the dragon beats you to it as it lets out an ear piercing roar. — It makes the icicles above you shatter, their splinters flying everywhere. Even the walls tremble under the powerful sound and you find yourself darting for the exit without a second thought. 

The sound continues to plague you as you run through the murky and long cavern walls, fighting your way through the maze you had once entered with curiosity and hope. Now you claw onto the desperate feeling of life, with tears streaming down your cheeks and your heart in your throat. 

It’s not until light presents itself and you catch the sun on your face that you breathe out. Your lungs burn, your legs ache and your head pounds. The snow feels warm and inviting, and your knees sink to the ground as you plummet toward it. — One glance behind your shoulder shows the entrance gone once more, and you sigh, whether it was in relief or not, you can’t tell. 

But as you make your way home that day, you can’t help but think of the dragon up in the mountain, and the large wound on its side. 

����ོ 

Your grandpa accompanies you as you prepare dinner that night. Your aunt Fiona was out gathering wild berries and fruits along with your younger cousins, and so the kitchen had become a peacefully quiet and inviting space. The air is warm, the steam coming from the hot stew cooking over the small fire, caressing your face. 

Perched on his stool by the high end of the table, your grandfather watches as you prepare plates and spoons for the family. His expression is calm, serene even. He doesn’t look as exhausted today, and you’re glad. These quiet and tender moments with him were ones that you cherished, for you didn’t know how many you had left. 

Yet you can’t help your mind from wandering toward the mountain on the other side of the forest. Your thoughts are plagued by the lonesome creature hidden within the stone. “Grandpa…” Your fingers drum against the rim of the glass you were wiping down, a small frown tugging across your brows. 

The old man hums as he shifts his gaze over to where you’re standing, obviously waiting for you to continue. It’s just… You don’t know how to. With a small, almost inaudible sigh you set the glass down. “Did you ever.. I mean was there ever such a thing as… ice dragons?” — The question catches him off guard, sure your old man was used to your inquiries about both the dragons and his past life. But something like this had never been brought up. 

“Ice dragons?” He echoes, and you think you catch a flicker of intrigue behind his otherwise pale eyes. “Where have you heard about those?” He then murmurs as he attempts to sit a little straighter. You immediately rush to his side as you place an arm around him, “Careful.” But your grandfather only swats your helping hands away as he stifles a cough. 

You purse your lips, but keep a steady grip on his shoulder as you hand him a glass of water. “I’ve just… Been doing a bit of research, and I stumbled across the topic.” You bite the inside of your cheek before adding, “There was hardly anything documented, so I was hoping you knew more..” 

Your grandpa hums, the sound long and drawn out as he takes a sip of his water. “Well of course there’s nothing documented, ice dragons have been extinct for centuries.” He says it so calmly, like it was the most casual thing in the world. But it wasn’t. You had just seen one, you were sure you had seen one. 

Images of the dragon up in the mountains flash before you. The blue and white scales, its frosty breath, its icy and penetrating gaze. But that would be impossible then.. It shouldn’t exist if they were extinct. — “Are you sure?” 

With a small scoff, your grandfather sets his glass down. “What kind of question is that?” He quirks a bushy brow, his expression gauging as he studies you closely. “If there was as much as a single ice dragon left, I would be sure to know of it”, he states with a huff. You did not want to argue over the matter any further, and thus kept your silence as you continued setting the table. 

Perhaps it had been a flicker of your imagination. The cave had, after all, been dark. It was possible that what you thought was real could have been all but an illusion. — But the ice cold shiver that ran down your spine as you recall its cold breath on your skin was most real. You think of the blood, of the large wound slashed across its side. How defensive it had gotten when it caught your gaze lingering. 

You pitied the being. What awful it must be to feel pain like that. 

“Why do you want to know about ice dragons?” The hoarse voice of your grandfather pierces the warm air and you turn to him with a small almost helpless smile. “I don’t know… Curiosity I suppose. ” You mumble, choosing to not bring up the day’s events in front of your old man. Your grandpa nods, his face looks sunken as his eyes drop to his empty plate. 

Outside, you can hear the faint noise of your aunt and younger cousins as they approach the small cottage. “Curiosity will get you far”, your grandpa agrees, though his voice sounds almost solemn now. — “But we should not let our thoughts linger in the past.” 

𓍼ོ

You find yourself setting out early in the morning that follows as well. But this time, you’ve brought more than a small lantern. The bag you carry is heavy on your back, making each step up the steep and snowy mountain twice the labour. Yet you persist, stubbornly trudging through the thick snow that reaches all the way to your knees. 

The cold and harsh winds make for a narrow view as you squint against them. Your nose has lost all its feeling, and you’re certain that you’re developing frostbite on parts of your body. Frantically you search for the tiny lily. You had tried your best to retrace yesterday’s steps, wantonly stumbling back and forth as you scour the ocean of bright white. 

“Where is it… Where is it..” Your lips are numb, your tongue feels way too big for your mouth and your words come out slurred. Never in your life had you been this cold before, and only God knows how much longer you’ll be able to carry on forward. 

But then you see it, its bright pink hues lighting up your world like fireworks in the night sky. And just a few feet away, the familiar entrance presents itself. — Despite your better judgement you had returned. Pity, that’s what you told yourself. Pity and empathy, that’s what you felt for the lonely dragon. It was why you had come here, with the intention of helping, as best as you could. It would’ve been what your grandfather would have wanted. 

Guilt weighs you down. It weighs heavier than the large bag on your shoulders. This secret you kept, it was bound to kill you. But such a thought seems small in comparison to the large cave that awaits you. — One final harsh thrust of the wind wins you over as you hurry inside, desperate to get out of its claws, even if it means finding yourself in the grasp of another. 

The maze-like system that was the dark and wet cave is strangely familiar, even though it shouldn’t be. Your feet move on their own, carrying you through the long and narrow labyrinth. For each step you take, your heart beats a little faster. Fear and anticipation courses through you. — Scared as you may be, but this time you had come prepared. This time you knew what waited around the corner, and as you made a final turn to the left, you exhaled. 

It’s dark, but now you know to watch where you place your feet. You’re silent, moving carefully through the cold air. Your lantern casts the cave in a warm and yellow glow, a stark contrast to the murky greys surrounding you. The icicles are sending gentle droplets of water down your way, one by one they splash against your cheek, the soft noise filling the open space. 

You had expected it to be there, you had tried to imagine it over and over for the past day. But the large dragon still catches you by surprise when your gaze falls upon it. Hurled up by one of the rocky and uneven walls, its large wings folded over what you presumed to be its wounded side. Its chest rises and falls with each slow breath it takes, the dragon appears to be in a calm slumber. Cold puffs of air shoots through its flared nostrils, the condensation vanishing in the darkness. 

It takes but one misstep on your part, the sound of rocks being crushed beneath the sole of your shoe echoing out into the silence. The disturbance wakes the sleeping dragon, and you find your gaze glued to its icy eyes as they snap open. Naturally, you expect for it to come lunging at you, just like it had the day before.  

But the dragon remains oddly still, slowly exhaling yet another wind off freezing air as it watches you with an almost expectant glint. It was impossible to read the creature, no matter how hard you tried. Your grandfather’s stories only did so much, and it was admittedly far different to come face to face with one on your own. 

“Hi.”

The greeting comes without you even thinking twice, it’s quiet, soft and timid. You’re surprised by your own rush of calmness at its semblance of indifference. For some reason, you did not feel threatened by the dragon today.

With slow and gentle movements, you let the bag slip from your shoulders, placing it down on the hard stone surface beneath you as you begin rummaging through it. You had not known what to bring along, for anything involving medicine was far from your expertise. The moss you’d brought from just within the forest line was thick and wet, but you vividly remember your aunt dressing your scraped knees in such. 

Gauze was sacred, you had to venture all the way to the kingdom in order to acquire some. It was why you had taken as little as you could from your aunt’s medicine cabinet, hoping and praying that she wouldn’t be able to tell. — It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

You feel the dragon's intense gaze on you as your trembling hands undo the roll of gauze, you wondered if it’d be enough to even go around its large body once. It was worth the shot. — You stand up straight, clearing your throat as you draw in a short breath. “I uh, I’m here to help you..” You give the dragon an awkward smile. It was impossible to know if it could understand you or not, but judging by the way its gaze narrowed at your words, you would guess it did. 

It’s okay, you tell yourself, gripping the supplies in your hands tighter. You take a hesitant step forward, gauging its reaction as you keep your eyes on its head. But the dragon remains unmoving. Alright. Three more steps. Still good. — It’s not until you reach its side, your outstretched fingers reaching for the shattered wing, that the dragon flinches. 

A low, menacing growl builds in its chest. The sound makes you falter, your eyes widening as you swallow the shriek about to escape your lips. “I…” Your mouth opens and closes repeatedly as your heart hammers in your chest. Had you taken it too far? Your intentions were pure, sure, but could this beast see that? 

“I mean no harm…” You say as you let the moss and gauze drop to the ground, presenting your now empty hands before the dragon. The creature watches you with pupils that are narrowed into slits, clearly untrusting of your ways, but makes no move to snap you in half. — It meant something, at least so you thought. 

Your attention slowly returns to the pale wing pressing against its side. If only you could get a closer look. Your palm graces the smooth and cold scales, fascinated by the foreign texture. But the action is almost immediately met by a harsh snarl from the dragon as its large head jerks your way. 

Its breath is just as freezing as you’d remembered it, coming out in harsh puffs against your already shivering body. You’re so close that if you leaned forward as much as an inch, your foreheads would meet. — Your gulp is painfully audible inside the dark gave and you fumble for words. 

“Y-You’re hurt…” Your shaky finger points in the direction of its wing and the dragon follows your direction. You watch in slight bewilderment as it flexes the broken wing. The wound looked harsh and deep, you were sure it restricted most of its movements, not to mention causing it great pain. 

The dragon makes a small noise that sounds almost like a human grunt. The sound catches you off guard and you turn back just in time to catch its head shifting forward again, its attention seemingly fixed on something far away. It looked almost… defeated. You wondered for how long it’d been isolated up here, how many sleepless and painful nights it would’ve had to endure. 

When it doesn’t make a second attempt to snap you in half, you take it as your sign to move forward. A brief inspection of the long cut helps you determine that it would probably not need any stitches. Said discovery relieved you as you had little clue of how to work both needle and thread, especially on dragon scales. 

You pick at the moss you’d previously discarded, bunching the wet plant up in your hands as you sought a suitable approach. It would’ve been easier had this dragon been slightly smaller, or you slightly bigger. — Nonetheless you give it your best shot. The dragon hisses when you press the cold moss against the crimson cut, but you try your hardest to ignore the way it tenses beneath your touch, praying and hoping that it would remain as still as it had up until now. 

Once the thick layer of moss is in place, your foot blindly reaches for the gauze as you roll it over. With the help of your teeth, and a lot of effort as your arms fought to keep the earthy moss in place, you managed to throw the small roll over its wing, only to catch it as it came down on the other side.

The process was tedious, and due to the size of the wound, it required you to repeat your original move a multitude of times. You work quietly, biting your lip in concentration as sweat pooled on your forehead. To try and get your mind off of the situation and task at hand, you try to figure out just what could’ve caused an injury like this. 

Had the dragon taken a fall? Gotten in a fight with another of its species, or even worse, a completely different creature? You were no fool, and you knew that dragons were far from the only spirits that roamed this forsaken island. There were beings far more dangerous than a pair of claws and a large jaw. The thought alone made you shiver. 

A loud thud snaps your attention to your left, your heart leaping out of your chest. But the terror subsided just as it had surfaced when your gaze fell on the dragon's head, resting atop the cold and hard cave floor in an exhausted manner. It exhales, the condensated cold air blowing from its nostrils like smoke out of a chimney.  

It was impossible not to pity the lonely creature, and you feel your stomach twisting as you watch its defeated expression. There was much you wanted to ask, things you longed to know. For now, you were content with not getting torn in half as you tended to the crack on its wing. It was enough, you tell yourself. 

Once you're done, you take a step back to inspect your work. It looked… messy. The gauze was wrapped in uneven layers, with moss peeking through here and there. An amateur's job, that much was evident. But the dragon doesn’t seem to mind, for it spares no more than a quick glance toward the now dressed wound. Instead, its cold and harsh gaze lingers on your fidgety frame as you debate your next move.

Your eyes dart around the dark cave, lingering on its sharp and rough edges. You wondered how uncomfortable it must be to live like that. The lack of sunlight, the lack of warmth.. Not that this dragon seemed to need it. — But there was really nothing here. And as you fetch your lantern once more, throwing the now empty bag over your shoulder, you turn to meet the dragon’s icy gaze. 

“I’ll be back”, you say, and though it did not reply, you caught the faint shimmer of its once tired eyes. 

𓍼ོ

You return to that same dark and cold cave for many days to come. As time passed, you found yourself growing all the more comfortable in the dragon’s ever looming presence. You would bring fresh moss, making sure to check on the wound as best as you could. — And though your bag weighs half a ton, you still managed to bring some nutrients all the way up the mountain. 

“Here”, you had said as you threw the bag on the stone floor. The dragon had given you a small glance, its expression appearing almost judgemental before its gaze had flickered to the fish you’d brought along. — “Why come on, you must be hungry.” You motioned toward the fresh meat, feeling rather proud of the accomplishment. The dragon had let out a huff, blowing a cold puff of air your way before begrudgingly indulging in the food. 

Conversation was difficult to make. You often talked to yourself, thinking out loud as you rambled on about whatever topic came to mind. Sometimes you didn’t speak at all, instead choosing to let a comfortable silence envelop the two of you. You did not know if the dragon enjoyed your company, perhaps it only put up with you because it had too little strength to snap you in half. 

Yet the creature continued to occupy your thoughts. Its almost translucent wings, the pale scales covering its body, the sharp pair of icy eyes. One day you’d brought a small notebook along. Using a piece of charcoal, you sat perched against the opposite wall as you drew the dragon to the best of your abilities. You found it to be a great excuse to watch it for long periods of time rather than stealing subtle glances. 

Truth was that no matter how many times your eyes fell on the dragon, you still found it hard to believe just what you were seeing. Suddenly your grandfather’s stories all made sense. The suspense and thrill of the dragons. The dangers and the courage it took. You understood why he enjoyed talking about them so much, you could feel his passion as you sat in silence with something so sacred. 

But for each day that passed, the large gash on its side lessened in both size and severity. You wondered how much time you had left before it eventually spread its wings and took off. The thought plagued you more than you’d like to admit… 

The morning is crisp, the moist and warm summer air had yet to fall over the small cottage you resided in. Just like any other morning you’re up and about, quietly shuffling throughout the tiny space as you pack today’s essentials. You were thinking of bringing along a book, perhaps you would read out loud to the dragon, any form of entertainment would surely brighten its mood. 

Your eyes roam the crowded bookshelves, stuffed with literature of all kinds. From herbal tea recipes to novels and history books. The pad of your finger stops atop one of the shorter pieces, something you’d easily be able to finish within the day or the next. But before you can as much as pull it from its spot, squeezed between two thick history books, the sound of a floorboard creaking startles you. 

“It’s a little early to be up reading.” Your aunt Fiona sounds like she’s just caught a thief in the midst of its burglary. And when you turn to face her, you find a satisfied smirk stretched across her thin lips. — “I…” Your words fall short, your throat suddenly thick with a fear you couldn’t quite place. “Well I was just-” 

“You know I’ve noticed you sneaking around lately.” Fiona takes a step forward, and you start to wonder if she’d perhaps gotten up early solely with the intention of catching you. Her eyes gleam with satisfaction when they land on the book you had been reaching for just moments ago. — “Gone all day without as much as a word, you worry you old grandpa.” 

Your aunt would often use your grandfather as a pressure point, knowing that the mention of him would get you to crack. She takes another two steps forward, stopping a mere feet away. “Perhaps you’re trying to get out of your chores”, she nods toward the garden outside, even though it had been left unattended for a mere week. 

You shake your head, immediately trying to deny the accusations she was pinning on you. “It’s not-” — “Then what?” Fiona cuts you short, her voice snappy as her face twists into a small grimace. “What could be keeping you from your frail and old grandpa?” She had a point, and the fact that she did was a bitter thought indeed. You should be spending more time with your grandfather, you should be helping your aunt around the house, there are a lot of things you should be doing. 

The sound of your swallow is painstakingly loud, shattering through the brief silence. “I know…” You bow your head, shame trapping your will to go see the dragon up in the mountain. “I’m sorry.” 

Fiona seems satisfied with your answer. She purses her lips, humming to herself as she eyes the bag flung over your shoulder. “Leave it here”, she points to the sofa on your right, “You won’t be needing it for now.” — Reluctantly you do as she says, letting it drop to the soft cushion before turning to your aunt with disappointment surely written across your face. If she catches it, she doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. Part of you is relieved that she seems to have little interest in prying further. 

“The garden needs tending to”, she states before turning on her heel and heading for the stairs, likely with the intention of waking your cousins. But as she reaches the first step, she throws a glance over her shoulder, her sharp gaze landing on your still unmoving frame. Her eyes narrow, “And don’t even think about leaving the house until you’re finished.” 

You could understand your aunt’s reasoning. Raising three children and taking care of her sick dad would surely take its toll on anyone. Fiona was strong, a lot stronger than most people seemed to think. Usually you did not mind helping her, for it made you feel useful. — But today your heart yearns to be elsewhere. You find yourself glancing toward the mountain, your thoughts occupied by the pale dragon, the image of its icy gaze burned into your mind. 

Because of that you find yourself hurrying through your tasks. Your fingers pull carrots from the moist soil, they pick basil from the fresh plants and pluck ripe apples from the old apple tree that leans to the right. Sweat dribbles down your forehead, and you mindlessly wipe it with the back of your hand as you carry on forward. 

The work felt tedious today, and you stole peeks at the kitchen window, trying to catch a glimpse of your aunt as she moved about the house. When finally, after what felt like decades, your basket is filled to the brim with fresh nutrients, and the plants had all been watered and tended to, you return inside. 

Setting the heavy bag down on the kitchen table, you look for Fiona, but she’s nowhere to be found. Your eyes drift toward the living room, lingering on the book you’d reached for that morning. You had done your chores for the day, so there was technically no harm in sneaking away, if only for a few hours. 

𓍼ོ 

Your way up the steep mountain feels lighter that afternoon. Your steps have a slight skip to them as you bounce forward. Nothing seemed to weigh you down, not even the full on scolding that you might receive from your aunt upon your arrival back home. 

By now you find the lily with ease, its familiar and bright pink hue standing out perfectly among the clear and white snow. You’re excited, giddy even. The thought of spending time with the grumpy dragon brought you a kind of joy that should definitely concern you, and had you been any wiser, you probably wouldn’t have entered the cave that afternoon. 

It was even colder than last time, yet the air was still, not a single gush of air hurling your way. You creep forward, without getting lost, because you’d acquainted yourself with the layout of the maze-like mountain. Now every twist and turn felt like a familiar face, one you’d seen so many times before and would always remember with a nostalgic smile. 

You enter the opening that leads into what you had begun to call ‘the dragon’s nest’. The name was quite silly, but you didn’t mind since you were the only one to use it. But a frown quickly finds its way to your face as you regard the empty space. — The dragon was nowhere to be seen. Confused, you take another couple of steps forward, instinctively calling out for it, “Hello?” 

There was, of course, no answer. You didn’t know what you had expected to come out of the simple greeting anyway. Rocking back and forth on the sole of your shoes, your mind rakes with different possibilities of what could have happened. Had it taken off? Maybe someone had found it, even worse, killed it. 

No, that couldn’t be right. 

Then you spot it, light. That was new, for the cave had been nothing but a room of complete darkness, ever since you first stepped foot here. Eager, you approach the source, forgetting all about your lantern as you discard it on the floor. Due to your previous visits being spent in such dim light, you had never noticed that the cave curled in on itself, leading even deeper than you’d originally thought. 

The squeeze to get through however, was tight. There was no way a dragon would be able to fit through here. Rough and cold stone scrapes against your chest and back as you push yourself between the rocks, determined to find your way to the other side, to the light. — With a heavy sigh you finally stumble free, bracing your hands on your knees as you allow yourself to catch your breath. 

When you glance up you realize that what you had stepped into was an even bigger part of the cave. But this one was basked in the warm rays of the sun. You’re almost blinded by the bright light, and you shield your eyes with your arm. Half the cave opened up and out into the sky. From here, the snowy mountains looked absolutely breathtaking. 

And as you regard the snow coated treetops, the way the sun reflected off the white surfaces, it suddenly hit that you had never actually stopped to admire your surroundings. Each day had been a battle to the top, never once had you taken a break to glance around, to appreciate nature in its truest and rawest form. 

But your moment of serenity is quickly broken by the sound of what you assumed to be a rock rolling across the cavern floors, the noise ripping you from your trance. You spin around, eyes wide as you try to locate its source, all to no avail. This part of the cave seemed just as empty as the last and the frown on your face only grew. 

The dragon was really gone. 

Then, just as you’re about to turn back, all air was knocked out of your lungs. The first thing you feel is pain, sharp and flaring through your body when your back is slammed against the cave wall. Your scream never makes it past your lips. And suddenly, the light that had previously enveloped you whole, was gone, shielded by something – by someone. 

Your jaw hangs slack, the same terror you had felt on your first encounter with the dragon returning. It takes a moment for your flimmering eyes to adjust, but when they do you finally see the man before you. His face is dark, clouded by rage. The almost pitch black hair on his head falls in front of his eyes but you can hardly focus on his complexion, much too aware of the large hand he had wrapped around your throat. 

Your breath hitches, a faint and helpless gasp escaping your open mouth. Who was he? Why was he here… How did he know about this place? — But then your gaze falls on his naked chest, there, covered in gauze and moss, the very same gauze and moss you had so carefully wrapped around its once large wing.

Finally, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re dark and gloomy, but they’re familiar. As they narrow on you, there’s an undeniable hint of blue, shining within their irises depths – an icy and cold blue. 

You realize then that the man before you was the dragon himself. 

“I…” Desperately your fingers claw at his hand, trying to pry him off of you. The urge to speak is strong, but his vice-like grip overpowers it. His chest heaves, his breaths coming in ragged and rough, his hand around your throat tightening with deadly force. — “Why did you come back?” It’s the first time he utters as much as a word. It sounds strained, as though he’d gone years in silence. 

When he finally releases his hold on your neck you fall forward, clutching at your throat whilst gasping for air. He watches you soundlessly, his expression twisted into a scowl. “W-What..?” You finally manage to croak out, feeling as though your wobbly knees were about to give out any second now. 

The man scoffs, his fist connects with the cave wall next to you and the stones crack under his knuckles. “You should not have come here”, he barks, fury radiating off of him. “You do not belong here, human.” 

He says the term with such distaste, making it sound derogatory. Perhaps it was. Yet you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around it. This was the very same dragon you’d been tending to for almost a whole week now. The creature in which you’d poured your love and affection onto, carefully building what you thought to be a relationship based on trust. 

But as he stands before you in his human form, you hardly recognize him. 

The man takes a step back, leaving you to exhale in relief. He turns away from you, as if trying to disregard your presence completely. You watch as he approaches the edge of the cave, where the bright sky meets the dark mountain. — Even with his back turned, you could tell that he was beautiful, breathtaking. 

“I don’t understand…” Your quiet whisper seems to echo, a sound that you should be used to by now. Still, you can’t help but cower at the intensity of your words. The drag- man, does not turn to look behind him, does not spare you as much as a single glance. “It is not for you to understand”, he firmly states, his tone holding a bitter and resentful edge. 

You shake your head, “I helped you-” — “You humiliated me.” He’s looking at you now, his cold gaze reaching you from across the cave. Your stomach drops at the statement. Have you done something wrong? You thought you were helping… “You degraded me by putting your filthy human hands on me.” He spits the words out, his voice laced with a venom so poisonous that it sunk into your veins. 

“You were hurt-” 

“I would have been fine”, he snaps. You feel frozen under his stare, unable to move as you shrink against the cave wall. He glances toward the bandage around his chest, the traces of what you had thought to be a gesture of kindness and empathy was something he regarded with hatred. It hurt. His jaw clenches, his hands curling into fists by his side. 

“You should leave.” 

Your blood ran cold at that and your lips part, an objection ready on your tongue. But he’s quick to realize that you won’t budge. With a small grunt he turns his back on you a second time, as he does, you catch a glimpse of the many scars slashed across his skin. They were a bright white, appearing healed though it seemed not even time could make them fade completely.

Before you can get another word out, before you can reach for him – he leaps off the edge. A terrified scream leaves your lips, and you slap a hand across your open mouth in shock. For a second you thought that he might have actually taken his own life, right before your very eyes. Everything is silent at that moment, and you do not dare move. 

The sound of wings, slapping against the cold air is what gives you new hope. You see him, the pale blues easily giving him away as he pierces through the clouds, riding out the hurling winds. Your heart aches at the sight, for reasons unbeknownst to you, reasons you don’t think you wanted to get to the bottom of. 

Suppose you would miss him, the lonely dragon. 

𓍼ོ

Days passed. Days that would soon turn into weeks. The reality of your otherwise mundane life slowly sunk in, like fog easing its way from the ground after a rainy day. Only there was no sun to greet you after such gloomy weather. Your life seemed bleak these days. You did not know if that had to do with the absence of the dragon, whose name you never got, or your grandfather, whose health was declining each day. 

Your days had shifted, and you no longer spent as much time in the garden. Hours upon hours were passed in the presence of your grandpa. His hand in yours as your thumbs caress his old and wrinkled skin. — He would cough a lot, and you could tell that it his condition was starting to wear him out. Regardless of that, he continued to drag on his long stories about the dragons, only with slightly less action. 

Because even his stoires had found new attention. 

“You know, they were actually quite crafty too.” Your grandpa’s voice is hoarse, and sometimes you need to strain your ears in order to hear him. Nevertheless, you sit by his rockingchair as he inistied on not spending his entire days bedridden. A blanket is placed over his lap, for he easily got cold these days, despite it being late summer still. 

“The dragons?” You ask, to which your grandfather nods. “Ineed, in their human form of course. - And they were quite talkative too”, he recalls with a smile on his lips. You wanted to disagree on the matter, for the ice dragon you met had been anything but friendly. You thought you could still remember the glare he’d sent you, one that had stung through flesh and bone.

Your grandpa is attacked by another fit of coughs, and you help as best as you can by gently patting his back. “They sound lovely”, you murmur when readjusting the blanket over his legs. He gives your hand a thankful squeeze, humming in agreement. — “They are. Oh how I wish you should have known the gentle ways of a dragon, I think you would like it.” 

He remains silent for a brief moment, his tired eyes lingering on the open window. The soft and warm summer breeze occasionally brushed past, sending a refreshing wave of air your way. Outside your younger cousins play, their screams of both joy and youth bounce off the trees. “Even my daughter might come to terms with it, had she just given them a chance.” 

Something in the warm summer air shifted then, a darker cloud pulling over the otherwise clear sky. For long you had avoided the subject, danced around it because you were afraid, not of asking, but for receiving an answer. Still, your curiosity could not be contained, and as you witness your grandfather in his final moments, you realize that there might not be another oppurtitny for you to ask. 

You clear your throat, shifting on your own chair as your hands remained clasped around your grandpa’s. “Say… What happened with my great grandfather?” You present the questions calmly, yet you avoid his eyes, your attention fixed on your intertwined fingers. — With a wheeze-like inhale, your grandpa sighs. 

“You have not asked about him before”, he states and you can feel the slight tremble to his hands as they rest in your own. “No”, you say, “I haven’t.” You knew that avoiding this could not go on for forever, he knew it too. Your grandfather nods, taking another deep breath that seemed to cost a lot of effort. 

“My father was a fearless man..” He begins telling it like he would any other story, but there’s a definite melancholic edge to his tone. “He was the closest our family ever got to the dragons”, he pauses, eyes flickering to met yours for a brief second, “Some even speculate that he fell in love with one of them.” 

Your jaw slacks at that, the surprise evident on your face. “In love?” You echo, to which your grandfather chuckles. “She was a most beautiful woman, a man would be stupid not to recognize such, and my father was far from stupid.” He leans back in his rocking hair, it makes a creaking noise beneath his weight as it shifts backward every so slightly. 

“They did spend a great deal of time together, much so that it worried the others.” — “Days could pass without my father returning from the mountains once. It’s quite confusing for a young boy such as myself to be left with his absence. - But I knew then, that my father’s love for the dragons was something I should aspire for myself.” 

He made it sound beautiful, a lot more than it should have been. This was no fairytale for its ending was most gruesome. You knew that without having to ask. And with a heavy sigh, one that made his chest puff out before it shrunk again, your grandpa seems to come to terms with how the story had ended. 

“Despite their love she still carried the deadly traits of the dragon. - But his death was never her fault.” Your grandpa turns to you with a solemn smile, “That’s what he would have wanted me to say.” 

He doesn’t continue, even though you thought that he might. No, for once, your grandpa seems content with a shorter story, one that spoke for itself. Strangely enough it made you think of the dragon up in the mountain, he was not the same yet he was everything a dragon represented. He confused you, you told yourself that it was the reason he lingered in your mind, even when he shouldn’t. 

𓍼ོ

Ingredients for your grandfather’s medicine were of best produce if you harvested them yourself. Your aunt Fiona had therefore urged you out the house that morning, making you embark on a rather long walk as you searched for the plant she desired. It was of magical properties supposedly, and therefore it grew only under magical conditions. 

Lunarspore, or something along those lines was what it was called. A small, purple mushroom that thrived best in the murky waters of warm lagoons. Such a place did indeed exist on the island of Aethera, and as all humans, you knew its dangers. — Mushrooms weren’t the only thing that fed off of the almost glowing water. Beneath the surface lurked creatures far beyond any will of good. 

Your feet come to a halt by the edge of the lake, your eyes narrowed as they peered across the thicker layer of fog that coated the misty surface. An uneasy feeling bubbles within your stomach, but you don’t turn back around despite your gut instinct screaming for you to do just that. Instead, you crouch down by the water, gaze searching for the round and plump mushroom. 

It takes a while, but soon enough you stumble across one. With a relieved exhale you reach for the small knife stashed in your belt, flicking it in your open palm before reaching out to snag tha plant. You’re disappointed by its size, you would have expected them to be bigger. “This thing would barely last us a week..” You mutter as you begin searching for another one straight away. 

To your surprise you find a second mushroom almost immediately. But to your dismay it was further out in the lagoon. You hesitate, gaze flickering between the safety of land and the need for the mushroom ahead. These waters scared you, and you did not want to wade out further than absolutely necessary. — In the end your desire to help your sick grandfather wins you over. With one tug, you pull your dress above your knees as you begin your descent into the lagoon. 

For each step you take forward the water seems to get warmer. A strange and almost calm feeling washes over you, it puts you at ease, even as your mind yells for you to turn back. You ignore the strange sensations and keep your eyes set on the target ahead. Finally, as you reach the mushroom, you reach for it, but before the blade of your knife can slice it from its roots, a quiet whisper pulls your attention to the left. 

Nothing but still and purple water fills your vision, yet you can’t shake the feeling that you weren’t alone. Something, someone, was there with you, lurking and stalking where your weak human eyes couldn’t see. The whisper is soft, it sounds almost like a melody, a sweet and enticing tune. You know you shouldn’t listen, you should scream for its silence and beg for your life. 

But you can’t help but fall under its trance. 

The water moves, gentle waves brushing against your naked legs. Your dress falls from the now loose grasp of your fingers, the cotton immediately being soaked up by the lagoon. The mushroom is long forgotten and the knife threatens to slip from your hands. 

You see it now, long and flowy hair reaching the surface, its arms outstretched as it approaches. But you do not feel fear, in fact your whole body is calm, frozen in place as you watch the siren approach. You knew what was coming yet you couldn’t find it in you to lift as much as a finger in order to stop it. 

Its wet and long fingers lock around your wrist, slowly tugging you toward the murky water. Its song rings clear in your ears now, but you cannot make out as much as a single word. You allow yourself to be pulled, the water is warm and inviting, enveloping you whole. For a moment you forget about everything, nothing exists and time is not real. 

But then, just as your head was about to submerge under the surface, something hard and sharp hits you across the stomach. You’re lunged backward, snatched from the siren’s gentle but firm grip and hurled into the sky. At first, you’re too dazed to even realize what had just happened, but when your vision finally clears, and you behold the ground so far beneath you, is when you scream. 

Everything was moving at an alarming speed, the wind whistling in your ears, the sound followed by that of winds slapping against the air. You glance up only to be met by the very same dragon you thought you had seen for the last time. He’s looking straight ahead, clearly unbothered by your terror as you squirm in the gras of his long claws. 

If he let go now, you would fall to your immediate death, reduced to nothing more but a pile of shattered limbs as you melt against the ground. The thought scared the living daylights out of you and you stop fighting and instead cling onto him with all your might. 

You’re… confused. Why was he here? After your last encounter you’d been certain that you were to never cross paths again. Yet here he was, not only that… He’d saved you. You dare another glance down, beneath you your surroundings are changing quickly. From up here they all seemed small and insignificant, even the lagoon which you had almost fallen victim to. 

Your eyes shift toward the dragon, watching as his now healed wings tore through the sky, carrying you to a destination still unknown. You swallow, feeling at loss for words. His hold on you was firm, but it didn’t hurt but you felt pathetically weak squeezed between his claws. — The questions of why and how continue to run through your jumble of thoughts, even when the snowy mountain comes into vision. 

Up here, the mountain seems a lot smaller, lesser. Fog covers the bottom half of it, making it impossible to even get a peek of the ground itself. He aims for an opening, one so familiar that your stomach dropped all the way to your toes. You knew exactly where he was taking you now. 

He slows down, large wings twisting in the air as he comes to an almost abrupt halt. You shriek when the claws around you loose, making you slip from their hold. But the wet and cold cave floor isn’t far, and you land on wobbly feet with a small thud. The dragon quickly joins you, but the sound of him landing is not the loud and powerful noise you’re expecting, and when you turn around, you find him in human form again. 

He runs his fingers through his dark hair with a small shake off his head, it looked almost as though he was dusting himself off. Your eyes trail across his muscular frame, something you had barely allowed yourself to look at last time. Briefly you wonder why he always seemed to appear without a shirt or any garment to cover his chest, but when your gaze flickers over his toned stomach, you find that you did not mind. 

Dark yet cold and almost icy eyes flit over to you, and they narrow as he catches you staring. You blink, pulling your invading gaze from him as it jumps across the cave, one you had been in before, both of you. It’s then that reality slowly washes over you, you were here, with him, and he’d just saved you from a fate worse than death. There was only one thing to say. 

“Thank you.” 

You smile, hoping that the sincerity and your gratitude would show. But the man only frowns, his stoic features twisting into confusion as he watches you from the other side of the cave, a far and safe distance from you. “What for?” He grunts, the disbelief in his voice clear as day. 

With parted lips you find yourself mimicking his perplexed expression. “You saved me…” Because he did, right? But he only shakes his head, emitting a small scoff as his jaw clenches. “The siren, the lagoon, I was… I would be..” — “You would be dead”, he calmly states, the simplicity to his tone made you want to shiver. 

“I paid my end of the bargain”, he then says and for a moment you could not wrap your head around what he meant by that. Then it all came together. He was making amends for his broken wing, the one you had so carefully tended to, even without his compliance or permission.. Still he was willing to do the same for you, even if only to pay back the debt that seemed to weigh him down. 

“Now we no longer have any reason to see each other”, he states as a matter of factly. You can’t tell if he looks relieved or merely tired, or perhaps maybe just at peace. He turns from you, and you panic, worried that he was about to take off once more. You don’t think you could stand seeing him leave, not again. Truth was, you had grown quite attached to the dragon… Yet you knew so little about him. 

“You have yet to tell me your name.” It was the first question that came to mind. You bite your tongue, but when his eyes only narrow you quickly add, “You know mine.” It was true, you had told him your own name on your third or fourth encounter, for it had felt rude not to introduce yourself when tending to his wounds. 

He scoffs, averting his gaze as it roams the now pink sky, painted by the warm hues of the slowly setting sun. His cold skin looked raw under the orange rays, and you find yourself mesmerized by everything that is him. You had so many questions for him, so many answers you longed to hear. Was he really the last ice dragon? How did they all die, and why had he lived? 

Everything is silent for a minute, much so that you swore you heard the song of birds in the far distance. Then he exhales, a long and low breath. Without looking at you he says, “Taehyun.” 

“Taehyun is my name.” 

You instantly smile, practically beaming toward him. “That’s a beautiful name”, you hum. Taehyun snorts, giving a small roll of his eyes as he turns away from you to peer out over the sky. “There’s hardly anything beautiful about a dragon.” He says it so quietly, almost a whisper. It was probably never intended for your ears, but you hear it. 

Why did he loathe his own kind? How could he be ashamed of something so majestic as himself. It made no sense. — Your feet move on their own, slowly carrying you across the cave. You never stop to think, and Taehyun does not turn your way. Then, before you know it, you’re beside him. 

His skin is cold against your lips when you press a hesitant kiss to his cheek. His jaw twitches, and you feel his heavy gaze on you once you pull back. His dark brows are furrowed into a confused frown, but he doesn’t look angry. “It’s how we say thank you.” You smile in a way you hadn’t in ages. 

Taehyun watches you, his eyes studying your face intently, as if considering his next move carefully. “You humans are strange”, he mutters, but there’s an almost teasing edge to his tone, much different from his usual gloomy demeanor. “A good strange or a bad strange?” You ask as you nervously pull your bottom lip between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, turning to face your way and you suck in a sharp breath when you realize just how close you were standing. His expression is still hardened, as if stuck in a permanent frown. Within his dark irises swirl strings of cold blue, and they seemed to shimmer under the setting sun. 

You tense up when he suddenly moves even closer, his ice cold chest brushing against your flaring hot one. “Good”, he exhales, his cool breath slapping your across the face when he leans in to press his lips against yours. His kiss is not the same sweet and hesitant gesture you’d given, but it’s not rough either. It’s… him. 

A single shiver runs down your spine when his hand snakes to the back of your neck. It was so very different from when he’d had his fingers wrapped around it, squeezing with all his might. He touched you like you were made of porcelain, one push too far would make you shatter in his palm, and he would be unable to piece you back together. 

The kiss goes on for forever, time slows down until it ceases to exist. You want to watch him, drink in his almost serene expression. Yet your eyes flutter closed as you return the gesture. Never did you question why he did it, because that didn’t matter. He felt so perfect against you, as if he was made for you and you only. Perhaps in another universe he was, in a universe where you were just like him, and not a weak and frail human. 

He pulls back, lips parting only an inch from your own, his forehead resting against yours. He’s breathing softly, the tension washed from his face as he regards your flustered one. “That’s how we say thank you”, he murmurs. 

“Why are you thanking me?” You whisper, your wide eyes peering into his. Taehyun sighs, blinking slowly as he swallows. “I don’t know. Why are you thanking me?” — You smile, your shoulders slumping into a shrug. “I don’t know.” 

You saved him, and he saved you. A favor for a favor. You were no longer bound to the other yet it somehow felt like your heart was going to break into a million pieces if you let go now. Taehyun inhales slowly, his nostrils flaring when he does. “Can I kiss you again?” He wonders, and the question makes you almost delirious. 

“Yes.” You’re already pressing your lips against his, desperate to feel him on you once more. He smiles into the kiss, a gesture so warm and contrasting to the cold and freezing layer of ice covering him. — Your hands are on his naked chest, fingers splayed across the now healed scar. The soft groan he emits vibrates on your tongue, urging your bodies flush against one another. 

“You’re so warm”, he murmurs against your skin as his kisses move to your cheek and down your jaw. Your head falls back, the sunset basking the two of you in color, the world outside silently watching. — “You’re cold..” You whisper, your fingers intertwining in his dark hair regardless. 

Taehyun chuckles, a sound you’d never before heard him make, it made your heart flutter. “I am”, he hums, his own hands trailing down your sides, relishing in the way you shiver as you stubbornly cling to him. The cold could not deter you, it never had and it never would. For Taehyun’s heart held all the warmth you should ever need. 

The kiss ends for a split second in order for you to catch your breaths. Soft sounds of heavy panting fill the large cave, echoing off its dark and wet walls. You swallow, taking the moment to find your bearings as you gaze into his shimmering eyes. You knew then that he was someone you could trust, with your life if need be. It made your next move all the more obvious. 

As you brush a dark strand from his face, you exhale. “I… There’s someone I want you to meet.” 

𓍼ོ

“Careful”, you murmur as you lead your grandfather through the high grass. He coughs and tries to swat your hands away but you insist on keeping a firm hold around his shoulders. “There, there, don’t wear yourself out.” 

“Pfft-” Your grandpa scoffs, shaking his head as he trudges on forward. “I haven’t been out and about like this in weeks, I’ve saved plenty of energy for the occasion.” He assures you. But you could tell by his laboured breathing and trembling arms that he was tired. You would have felt bad bringing him out here, wasting his precious energy like that. — But today was different. 

“Why are we even out here anyways? You can hardly expect me to help harvest any herbs..” He mutters as his tired eyes flicker across the open meadow. It was calm, the late summer air basking the two of you in a warm glow. “No grandpa”, you smile as you pat his shoulder, “That’s not why we’re here.” 

Your old man hums, giving a small nod as you come to a stop in the middle of the opening. “I have seen grass before, dear.” He gives you a pointed look and you can’t help but giggle as you shake your head. “I know, you’ve seen what I’m about to show you before too… But I still think you’ll like it.” 

Your grandfather raises a brow your way, his lips parting as if to say something, but before he gets the chance to, the trees ahead rustle. The sound snaps both of your attention that way, and you manage to catch a glimpse of your grandpa’s curious eyes just as Taehyun emerges from the forestline. 

When you’d first asked him, the request felt pushy, perhaps a little too much, but to your greatest joy, he’d agreed. The white and blue scales on his skin shimmer in the sunlight, and his nearly translucent wings seem to sparkle when he moves closer. He looks magical, hauntingly beautiful. But you force your gaze away from him and over to your grandfather. 

He was watching Taehyun with a slack jaw, his eyes wide as sausages and you’re glad that you’re holding on to him when his legs buckle. “That..” He begins, his mouth dried up and his voice hoarse. He turns to you, as if in disbelief before quickly glancing back toward the dragon before him. “Is he real?” He quietly whispers and you bite back a giggle. 

“Of course”, you say as you take his hand in yours. “Do you want to get closer?” The question was hardly needed for your grandfather moves with both newfound strength and speed as he approaches Taehyun who’s standing a mere ten feet away. He stops only when the dragon’s cold breath caresses his old and wrinkly face, a smile unlike anything you’d seen before etching its way across his lips. 

“He’s real”, your grandpa states, and you swore you could see the happiness blooming in his heart. His gaze wanders across Taehyun’s blue scales, a small frown tugging on his brows. “He’s…” — “An ice dragon”, you nod, “They’re not extinct.” 

Taehyun makes a small sound that comes across as half a grunt, half a snort. Your grandfather doesn’t seem to mind, far too preoccupied with taking in the sight before him. “How?” He whispers as he reaches a trembling hand out to touch the very tip of Taehyun’s cold nose. The action is intimate, and it makes your heart swell.

You never give him an answer, you’re not sure what you could even say. All you knew was that you had made his final wish possible, nothing else could make you feel better. — He spends the entire day with Taehyun, and when he shifts into his human form the two converse for hours on end. You watch them, wordlessly admiring the two. From the way your grandpa’s face lit up whenever Taehyun spoke of his life, to the dragon himself when he listened to your grandfather’s stories. 

As the sun set you practically had to drag your old man home, promising that Taehyun would visit as soon as he had the chance. — Even though such a time never came. 

Your grandpa died that night, it was a peaceful death, one kind and gentle. You watched with tears in your eyes as he inhaled a last time, his chest rising as he did. And when he finally exhaled, everything stopped. Every story and every adventure of his were reduced to just that… tales. Something to remember and to cherish. 

You cried until the sun rose on the naked sky, your tears drying just in time for fresh ones to spill. You cried until your chest hurt and your lips were bitten bloody. You grieved your grandfather with every fiber of your being, until there was nothing left but large and hollow holes in your body, filled with an eternal sadness. 

Taehyun was there, he came when he heard your cries. Even though his embrace was cold and his arms freezing as they wrapped around you, there was never a moment where you felt yourself shiver. For there was warmth in his heart, enough for it to spread to your own. — Taehyun would help you live, just like you had helped him.

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[squibsformers]

Feral Fears, Ch. 1

Human x Transformers fic

MTMTE/Lost Light, First Contact AU

Rating: M

Word Count: 1,004

Desc: After needing to stop off for more supplies, the Lost Light gets a strange, displeased, new passenger.

AN: Hi hi hello I hope you like this! This was the poll winner, maybe I'll do another chapter soon. If you like it let me know! I enjoy reading tags and comments on my things a lot. This one's short to kinda get me back into the swing of writing.

[Next]

“How in the pit have we gone through this much energon so quickly…?” Yellow servos tapped rapidly against the owner's desk, glaring at the report from Ultra Magnus. 

“If you bothered to pay attention, you would have heard me when I said the breach in the ship had us LOSE much of our stock, as well as how quick we went through our repair supplies... We can refuel and pick up more once we hit the next stop off, but we may be stationed at the outpost longer than you'd like.”

The prime sighed. “Longer as in a few vorns or-”

“Cycles. We have to wait for them to get us what we want if they don't have it.”

“Slag. Well… Damn. Okay, I guess we don't really have a choice- Set a course for the nearest outpost, tell the crew they're getting a… surprise few days of tourism to go run around and do whatever it is they please.”

“...That's not-” Ultra Magnus sighed. “That's bound to lead to trouble.”

“You wanna explain to everyone they're grounded to their rooms while we're parked and picking up supplies?”

Ultra Magnus sighed. “No…”

“That's what I thought. Plot a course! Let's get moving, the ship isn't gonna fuel itself!”

–---

Legs carried them desperately, ducking and weaving along unshipped cargo and barrels of fuel.

They had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep quiet, keep running. Your lungs burned, feeling like hot embers were popping in your bronchial tubes, making them hiss and whine quietly as they flex, their feet thumping quietly, trying to run on the balls of their feet as they scurried through the shipping bay.

They had to keep moving. Keep moving, keep running, keep pushing and going, it can't stop, if they stop they're FUCKED so utterly fucked-

“♠︎£°▪︎¤#%¡¡¿ ~×&%ꕥ˚꒦꒷꒷﹆¡¡”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck-

They ducked down between two shipping containers that barely had enough space that they could squeeze between, cutting down the row and looking around.

Where to go. They had to hide, running wasn't going to work, they were so much bigger, so much stronger and faster and smarter- but they could be crafty. Ohoho and could be sneaky.

….I mean they couldn't see shit but. Well. That would just be an obstacle to work past.

The organic looked around, squinting while leaning back against a crate… and stumbled some, feeling the massive box's frame was warped. Frowning, it looked up, and noticed a small, dark spot waaay up at the lid.

….Hole. That had a hole.

Hopefully, a hole the human could wedge itself into.

To the right, they spotted some metal pallets…and started climbing, grunting and huffing with effort. The makeshift knapsack weighed them down some, but they kept moving, desperate for an escape, for freedom. The fleshy's hands slip at one point and they drop, letting out a pain-filled wheeze and hearing a nasty, wet crack.

Don't think about it. Don't think about it, don't do it. Barely even slowing down, the human heaves themself up, panting. Their free hand reaches over…and they whine as they clench the break, sliding the bone into…relative place. It looked…okay. Perfectly fine. Yes.

Absolutely. Couldn't even tell it had a staircase break.

….Time to climb again.

The human sighed and began scrabbling up, wincing and trying to ignore the obvious injury it had. They didn't have time to worry about that, and they needed to get to safety-

“^^□●₩◆°°°▪︎°%”

Fuck. Those fucking robots were close.

One pallet, two, three, four, six, eight-

When the organic reached the top of the pallets stack, they looked over to that crate, judged the little distance you could out…

And leapt across the gap, purposefully overshooting the edge so it wouldn't miss but stumbled and landed hard, cracking their already damaged arm, letting out a yelp of pain.

“!#$♤♤□♡°•°¡¡”

Time to hurry. That sounded very aggressive.

Feeling along the edge of the crate, they finally found the hole… and blindly smushed themselves inside, falling a small distance onto a pile of…something.

Cabling? It felt like cables, it had the outer layer of rubbery plastic…

Geez it was dark.

……Geez it was really dark.

They heard metallic footsteps storm closer, and the little organic being covered their mouth, taking slow breaths to try and stifle the sounds of being… well, alive.

They stayed that way for what felt like hours, the dark slowly pressing more and more in on you, stifling and terrifying but at the same time a sanctuary, a safety net. They listened as those pedes paced about, searching, scouring, seeking them out. They heard the strange “Vrr wrr chtcht chitter krr bzrtkr krrrzst” that was their strange natural language. Aggressive tones. Still mad. They heard…

….

They heard beeping. Something is getting closer, beeping is getting louder. Heard new footsteps, old ones fleeing once the shouting began. Heard the beep directly outside their cable sanctuary.

And then… felt movement. The crate jostled and shook, and you held your breath, waiting for the lid to be ripped off and you to be found….

But…that didn't happen. Instead…. the crate moved. And you were moving along with it, whether you wanted to or not.

There was chatter, again. Lots of chatter. Then there was an obnoxiously loud beep near one side of the crate, another more.. blippy-beep next to that spot…And the crate moved once more, rattling a bit, before there was a hiss, a soft thud and the sound of pedes leaving.

The little human stayed in that crate. Stayed in it for hours. 

And then there was a new noise. A louder noise. A deep, thrumming, hum, that evolved into a bone and brain rattling roar, of impossible machinery kicking in, engines revving, turbines whirling, and a feeling like, for a brief moment, their soul was pulled from their body.

When they felt relatively normal again, the human slowly peeked out from the hole in the crate, and squinted.

They had a feeling they were on another stupid ship.

[tvangelique]

the west in common glory ✶

greetings. hello. hi. my name is solana . or tabby . [many other names said here] afro-asian. libra sun, pisces moon, capricorn rising. i was written by the cure and left in a time capsule. my mind is blown away by ancient history, you’ll find my awareness there, too.

sixteen . i go by she / her . a lesbian .. ? . i think ?? i like to kiss girls, and pretty boys when i’m half—aware of their masculinity ♡

frequently blogging : on a flip phone while on the coast of georgia

┊

i belong to creaky houses and holes in the walls. the universe in a physical form. a ton of physical forms. the universe has sparked me with the power of unpredictability and it’ll be a waste not to use it. barely online, i have the tendency to pop up and disappear until i’m on the other side of the country.

𝗁𝗆, 𝗁𝗎𝗆. favorite things .

my book. WOAH. so egotistical. i know. i’m autistic. (whomp whomp). i always give the advice to “write what you wanna read.”

i’m a daughter of cain, but i’m sure my profile screamed that already. given, i like the countryside (speaking as someone who’s lived there. twice!!!!), i like humid spring nights & biblical allegories

ancient rome captivated me. not too long ago, i happened to be in history, mourning julius caesar like he had laid across my own arms. i love gothic literature (interview with the vampire!!!! my beloved!!!), perhaps one day, i’ll touch up on yellowjackets .. and hannibal .. and—am i missing anything else?

a good instrumental + layering background vocals for the second rendition of the chorus + lyrics that even semi — relates to my own personal multiverse ????? everything. a romance sub - plot that ends in tragedy. btw. i never understood romeo and juliet.

“ . . . i was young & sweet

and then something happened. ”

um. confession. i have no idea how to use letterboxd. come back in a month or. two. but until then. here are some things i rate 5 stars.

sinners : ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“ there has not been a day where the soundtrack has not blown my mind. i’m so serious. and that sequence.. if you know, you know. one of the best in modern cinema. such a thoughtful depiction of colonialism & the effects it has psychologically. and vampirism as a way to depict cultural assimilation into the majority.. just go watch the movie. ”

bones & all : ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

“ watched this recently and lord. actually a comfort-film for all the wrong reasons. first off, i’m a sucker for any metaphor with cannibalism, but i love how this especially ties into addiction and generational trauma. also. maren is me. that’s all. ”

tabby core: maren, bones & all. jinx, arcane. elphaba, wicked. rue, euphoria. lucy gray, hunger games (apparently???? many people have told me this???). gretchen, mean girls. claudia, interview with the vampire. coraline.

shifting realities. okay. to give a bit of a backstory, i’ve always been a spiritual kid. i was seven ? — years old when i stumbled upon those youtube spells. say 3 mantras, end it with “ to mote it be ” run out the room to see if my dolls have truly moved on their own or not. i grew up on fairy truths, BDA (believe, dream, achieve) if anyone remembers them.

anyway, i was with my father one day when i’ve seen that they had posted a video, but it didn’t have the words my brain was familiar with—no. my mantras were replaced with music, and a 20 second video became three minutes. i had no idea what i happened to be looking at, but it continued. i discovered subliminals in 2018, which i used religiously,

then. boom. i saw that iconic video about a girl shifting to hogwarts. swapped the hogwarts phase out for a naruto one and a over exaggerated streamer dr that included more musical numbers than i’m willing to admit. anyways. trial and error. i’ve smelt vanilla when i was sure we owned no scented candles. and i’ve never tried again.

until a book fell on my lap and my need for praise told me to “deal with it.”

[waveworn-rover]

I'M A NASTY DOG! Pt.1

Fleeting touches and breathless kisses, they just can't seem to let you out of their sight. You know what happens next, don't you?

Content: 18+ sexual content (minors don't interact please), all content will be consensual :)

Description: wlw established relationships (fem!reader), plot with smut, fingering (changli), Jinhsi has a cock, strap-on use (rover), hinted rough(ish) sex (rover), pussy eating (zhezhi), vibrator use (baizhi).

Characters: Changli, Jinhsi, Fem!Rover, Zhezhi, Baizhi

Note: Part 1 of a two part fic and my first smut fic ever (yipee), I wanted to write for the wuwa women due to the lack of fics so i made a whole blog for them lmao. This is kinda experimental since I'm not used to writing smut, so it'll be a mix of plot and smut. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

Changli

The harsh winds that descend upon the snowy lands of Mt.Firamament have done nothing to ease your anxiety. You shiver, hugging your frost-bitten body as you blindly walk around, searching for your lover. Changli had been uncontactable for the past few weeks, ever since she had gone to Mt.Firamament with the rover. She told you not to worry, "It's but a simple matter, my love. I'll be back before you know it." What a lie that was.

Upon hearing the news of a blast occurring on the mountain, resulting in the time barrier placed by the sentinel to be removed, you had expected Changli to return to you by now- but to no avail. Which brings you here now, in the snowy plains of Mt.Firamament, using a tracker to find your lover. But as the surroundings grow colder and your body grows weaker, you make the crucial decision to stumble into a cave to take cover from the harsh weather. Cold and very much fatigued, you slump against the cave wall, soon falling asleep.

You don't know how much time has passed, but you wake up to the feeling of warmth- one that seems all to familiar.

"Seems that you're awake now, hm?"

You startle, looking up to find Changli sitting across from you, a tense smile on her face. "Changli! How did you- I-," you stutter, scrambling up to hold her close. She all but chuckles, moving closer to you.

"Naughty girl, didn't I tell you time and time again not to worry about me?" Changli coos, brushing your hair back to get a better look at your tired face. "Now look at you, dirty and hurt from the harsh weather. Tsk- you seem to forget that you can't keep yourself warm without me."

You whimper shamefully, yes- you had fully known that she was more than capable of keeping herself alive in this place. Her forte is useful for keeping her body warm amidst the snowy mountain. Yet you couldn't help but worry, she was your lover after all.

"I'm sorry... I was just- I was worried."

Changli merely hums, pulling you closer to her warmth. You feel the heat emitting from her body, and the feeling of her warm lips as she kisses yours. "It seems that you're still cold, my love." Your eyes widen as you become trapped under her cunning gaze. "Let me warm you up."

"O-oh...!" You let out a soft gasp, your back arching as Changli grabs your ass. "Changli, wait- ah!" She flips you onto your back, carefully laying you down on the soft pelt of fur below you. She wastes no time in removing your underwear as her hungry mouth attacks your bare neck, marking you up. All you could do is moan pathetically, your body writhing under her hot touch.

Her hand spares no moment to waste, fingers dancing across your sensitive skin. Your legs tremble as you feel her touch against your aching folds, desperate to be pleased. You moan out her name, your voice shaky with anticipation. "Relax for me, darling.", she whispers into your ear, a subtle command for you to give her access into your warm hole. Her sultry voice, paired with those warm fingers of hers gave you no room for disobedience.

In a matter of mere seconds, she had you trembling and shaking, her warm fingers thrusting into your wetness with a fury that could rival her flames. The sound of skin against skin, the brush of her palm roughly bumping against your sensitive clit was proving too much to bear. You grip her other arm tightly, your eyes watering from the pleasure.

"C-changli...! Please- please don't stop!"

Changli pants above you, your whorish moans make her pulse with desire. Leaning down, she kisses you with fervor, angling her wrist so that her fingers hit that spot in you that's just right. Your body tenses and you grab onto her, your nails raking down her smooth back. With a precise thrust into your pussy, she presses down on your sweet spot, making you cum. Your back arches into her body and you moan loudly, but it's alright. After all, no one else but her can hear your screams of pleasure in this cave. Changli eases you through the orgasm before slowly pulling her fingers out. Still leaning over you, she sensually licks her slick-coated fingers, making you shudder.

"Good girl..."

Some people praise Changli for her behaviour, in which when she sets her sights on something, she doesn't stop until its in her grasp. Well, you suppose you can thank her for that when you both went for a couple more rounds, perhaps... five more. By the time she brought you to your last orgasm, you were nothing more than a moaning mess sprawled on the pelt. Changli didn't seem fazed at all, a slight blush on her face, maybe her back had been scratched up by you, paired with lips turning red from how much you both kissed.

Changli laid beside you, pulling you closer. You snuggled into her embrace, earning a thoughtful hum from her.

"Thank you... for coming out here to ensure I was safe. I don't want you to do it again, but still, thank you.", she mumbled, voice laced with affection and worry. She won't let you risk your life like that for her, not any more.

"I'll take a week off once we get home."

You smile, kissing her soft skin. Although you were too tired to speak, lacing your fingers with hers let's her know all that she needs to know. Changli smiles, tightening her grip on your hand.

"I've been away from your touch for too long, my flame."

Jinhsi

The magistrate of Jinzhou has always been a busy person. With workloads of documents to read, varying problems of the people to listen to paired with her own self doubts, Jinhsi was the busiest woman in Jinhzou. Though she spends her days hunched over her desk in the ministry office or making her feet sore by traversing the whole city, her one salvation comes in the form of her lover- you.

With another round of work completed, Jinhsi sighs tiredly as her day ends. She misses you dearly, noting how she barely had time to head home these past few days due to her job. Jinhsi adjusts herself in her seat before reaching out for her terminal to call you. As usual, you answer in the blink of an eye, never one to keep your lover waiting.

"Jinhsi! How are you, darling?"

Jinhsi stiffles her growing grin, ecstatic to hear your voice. She coughs lightly, clearing her throat before replying.

"I'm doing well, my love. In fact, I've just completed my work and should be free for tonight. I'll be home soon."

Jinhsi can't help but smile broadly as she hears your happy squeal from the terminal. How she missed witnessing your happiness in person, at least she'll be home soon. A few minutes of chatter later, you both hang up the call. Jinhsi heads down the hall, confirming her leave with Sanhua before finally heading home to you.

As soon as Jinhsi gets home, she opens the door, bracing herself for an onslaught of your affection but instead, there was no one to greet her. Confused and mildly disappointed, she calls out your name, searching through the house for your presence. After minutes of searching the house to no avail, Jinhsi barges into the bedroom. A chocked sound escapes her lips as her jaw slacks in shock to find you laying on the bed, dressed in lingerie that barely covers your body, a familiar collar dangling in hand.

"Welcome home, dearest magistrate. Or should I call you...puppy?"

Jinhsi breaks into a full blown blush, stuttering and jumbling her words. You all but chuckle, amused at her reaction. Perhaps it has been quite some time since you've both last made love, it seems that she has forgotten her place- under you. You rise from the bed and saunter over to the distressed and evidently horny woman, clicking the collar in place to her neck, giving it a nice, deliberate pull.

"Ah-"

Jinhsi doesn't even have time to retaliate, her lips immediately being engulfed with yours. She doesn't fight your dominance, letting you take control of her pleasure. You grip her hips, pulling her even closer to you. Your bodies press against each other, letting you feel her breasts against yours and, well, her protruding cock.

"Looks like my sweet girl is getting impatient. Let me take care of that..."

Pinning her against the door, you kneel down to face her crotch. You come face to face with her adorable boner, chuckling softly when Jinhsi whines in embarrassment. You pull down her underwear, watching her cock slap against her tummy, precum leaking from the pink tip. You press a teasing kiss to her stiff cock, earning you a desperate groan from her.

"Please...d-don't tease me..."

You raise an eyebrow at her shy plea, standing up. You kiss up her neck, your ears blessed by her soft mewls of pleasure. Without further ado, you pick Jinhsi up and carry her to the bed. She let's out an unexpected squeal, holding you tightly. You lay her on the plush bed, leaning over her anticipating frame. Her body shivers, cock rock hard as she waits for your next command. You smirk knowingly, spreading your legs, giving her a glimpse of your wetness.

"I'm going to ride you now, pup. Are you ready?"

Jinhsi nods, too shy for words. Her usual calm demeanor is nowhere in sight, instead replaced by a fumbling mess, desperate for her lover.

"Words, darling. I need to hear your consent.", you drawl, resting your hips right above her cock. Jinhsi whines, grabbing at your thighs. "I'm ready- I'm ready! Please...!"

You snort in amusement, the ever so powerful magistrate of Jinzhou reduced to a mere mess, all for you. The sight turns you on even more as you align her cock with your folds. The gathered arousal between you both made the penetration slick and painless, filling you all the way. Jinhsi snaps her hips into you in reflex, unable to control her body in liu of the sensation of your gummy walls.

You shudder, feeling her cock twitch inside you. With a groan, you lean forward to capture her wrists in your hands, pinning her arms over her head. Now reigning full control, you slam your hips into hers, bringing full pleasure to you both.

"Oh, puppy... such a good- ah! Such a good girl for me..."

Jihnsi could do nothing but snap her hips to meet yours while she herself whined pathetically. Soon, the combined movement brought your pleasure to the peak as you both came at the same time. Slowly, you rise up, panting above her. A mixture of your combined cum drips out of your pussy and onto her belly, earning a shudder from the whinpering woman. Jinhsi whines at the loss of your warmth, immediately clinging onto you. You laugh, caressing her head as you pepper her face with soft kisses.

"Welcome home, my dear Jinhsi."

Fem!Rover

For the past few days, you and Rover have been traveling around the outskirts of Jinzhou on a quest to complete missions for the pioneer association. Given that Rover didn't have any major plans, you both had agreed to help the pioneer association with some light work, that being taking down tacet discords. As a resonator yourself, Rover was confident enough in your abilities to let you follow her. Still, she was somewhat protective of you, but you don't mind. You find it attractive when she helps you out in combat, giving you a chance to admire her muscular build.

Caught up in your daydream, you fail to notice an injured spearback approaching you from behind, it's claws gleaming with the intent to strike you down.

"Watch out!"

You gasp, turning around at the right moment to find Rover slicing the tacet discord's paw off before finishing off the monster. Your breath shudders and you feel weak in the knees. Unconsciously, you grip onto her outfit. Rover immediately holds you in her strong arms, pulling you close to inspect you for any harsh wounds. After checking that you were unhurt, she let's out a soft sigh, hugging you tightly as you tremble.

"You're alright... I told you that I wouldn't let any harm come towards you, didn't I?" Rover chuckles softly, but you could hear the strain in her voice. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak in this moment.

"Come, let's collect our reward from the pioneer association. Then we can finally go home for tonight."

It was nightfall when you both arrived at the association's main building, luckily you were able to claim the... 'special' reward, as they called it. You're not sure what's so special about it, but considering it was a wrapped box, you had to wait until later at home to open it up. You yawn, holding onto Rover's arm as you both walked to your shared home.

Once arriving home, you take a shared bath before taking some time to relax in the living room. As you sip your drink, Rover sits beside you, holding the box in hand. Leaning your head on her shoulder, you prompt her to open it up. To your honest surprise, the special reward was something you never expected.

"Is... Is that a strap-on?"

Rover didn't reply right away, making you look up at her. Her face was impassive, but a bright blush adorned the tip of her ears.

"Rover? Are you alright?" You reach out, brushing your fingers against her cheek. Rover takes hold on the strap-on, turning it around in her hands before she turned to you.

"I want to use the strap-on. Now.", she growled out, her arm holding your waist to keep you close. You could see the how serious she was as you looked into her eyes- it was akin to staring at a hungry predator. You stuttered, feeling your heart beat faster as your body heated up with the familiar feeling of arousal.

"Please."

"...oh," you mumbled softly as your foreheads connect, letting you feel her breath against your lips, "I don't mind... I mean, we should make the most out of the reward, right?"

Quicker than you could comprehend, Rover claimed your lips with hers as she lifted you up with an arm, holding the strap-on in her other hand. You cling onto her, the sound of your combined whimpers and her groans echoing through the house as you made way to the bedroom. She laid you on the bed, giving you time to undress as she fastened on the harness.

Rover wasted no time in prepping you for the strap-on. She lifts your hips, using her hands to hold your lower body up as she eats you out. You cry out in surprise, gripping blindly at the sheets as her tongue prods your sensitive entrance, showing no mercy in her attempts to be drenched in your arousal. In less than 5 minutes, she makes you cum for the first time tonight, your arousal dripping down her chin. Her golden eyes gleam with satisfaction, taking note of how your body trembles for her.

"I love the way you taste," she groans, adjusting your body to line the faux cock with your folds, "but I like it better when you (s)cream for me."

With that, she thrusts the cock into you, your orgasm from earlier aiding in the penetration, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of being full. As time passed, the sounds of sex amplify in your bedroom. The bed creaks with your passion as Rover fucks you deep, hitting your good spot over, and over, and over again. The harsh collision of her body with yours sends jolts of pleasure to your clit, making you moan out and cling to her as she ravages your body. She takes you- claims you with an almost primal look in her eyes. She spares your body almost no mercy, biting and sucking your neck as well as gripping onto your thighs till her nails form crescent moon shapes on your skin.

"R-rover! Ah- haAh! Please don't s-stop, want you to cum in me!"

Your delirious bable stuns her for a brief second, causing you to whine in confusion. She pants above you and the moment you see that look in her eyes- the golden gleam intensifying, you know you're done for. She holds you closer, her lips right next to your ear.

"Bite my shoulder if it gets too much. I don't want the neighbours complaining about the noise you'll make when I breed you."

You nearly scream when her hips snap into you, the faux cock kissing your cervix. Doing as she told, you bite her shoulder as she absolutely rams into you, her strength unwavering. She brings you to your high multiple times, only stopping to ensure you were alright to continue after a water break and resuming the feral fucking soon after. By the time you were spent, legs shaking and drool dripping down your chin, it was almost close to dawn.

With care, Rover takes out the strap-on from your quivering hole, earning a tired moan from you. Discarding the harness, she adjusts your body as you both lay down together in bed, preparing for sleep. After a much needed glass of water for you both, you snuggle up to your lover, content and happy to be in her embrace. Rover was quite for a while, drawing circles on your back to lull you to sleep.

"You almost got badly hurt today," she mumbles solemnly. You tense, a frown on your face. "I'm sorry, I got distracted."

Rover hums in response, her grip om you tightening. Yet her touch was not painful, it was comforting. "I promised to keep you safe, but you have to help me out too, okay?"

You nod, pressing a gentle kiss on her collarbone. "I promise."

"Forver and always."

Zhezhi

You've always known Zhezhi as an excellent artist. Ever since that faithful day- where you both met as children, you've always associated art with her. It was that day when she opened up your dull eyes to the colours of life, her talented hands commanding the brush like it was a part of her. It was no surprise that you soon became infatuated with the girl, insisting on sticking by her side even when you both had grown older. Your families- despite their seemingly uncaring attitudes, would never dare to come in between you both. It seemed that fate itself had decided that you were meant for each other.

You weren't the only one who agreed that Zhezhi was a wonderful scholar of art. There were many in Jinzhou that would pay a high price to obtain her paintings. With all that said, who in Huanglong was this baffling idiot you see- yelling at your Zhezhi?

"I told you I wanted it by today! Can't you work up some resonator magic to paint it faster? I don't have all week!"

You grit your teeth as the man yells at your lover, eyes narrowed in fury. Zhezhi was naturally shy and incredibly soft hearted, something you found endearing about her. But now? Watching her sob quietly as she gets berated like a lowly servant? It makes your blood boil, so much so that you had to take a deep breath to avoid suddenly activating your forte.

"What seems to be the problem here, sir?", you drawl, sauntering up to them. You sneak a hand around Zhezhi's waist, pulling her closer to you and letting her weep into your shoulder. You fix an icy stare at the man in question, your gaze making him stumble over his words in sudden fear.

"W-well, you see, Zhezhi said she needed a week to finish my commissioned painting- but it's not like I have time to wait, yknow? I'm a busy businessman, I've got places to be, people to meet. I simply can't wait! I thought that since she's a resonator, she should be able to finish the painting quickly, so I-"

Before he could even finish his nonsensical babbling, you place a firm hand on his shoulder to stop him, your grip almost painful enough to make him cry. Almost.

"Let me get this straight, sir. You yelled at Zhezhi for not completing a commission she told you would take a week to complete, despite it not being the deadline yet?" A strained smirk appeared on your lips as you tilt your head, as if trying to comprehend his stupidity.

"Do you think Zhezhi is some kind of robot? Even as a resonator, she needs time to complete a painting that would usually take months to be done. Can't your small brain comprehend even the most basic sense?"

Your retaliation makes him whimper, a shameful noise that makes those passing by laugh. He quickly apologises, telling Zhezhi to take her time with the commission while paying her extra for his mistake. You sneer as you watch him leave, walking away with a still sobbing Zhezhi. Heading to your shared home, you hug her close, whispering soft reassurances into her hair. Once she calmed down enough to talk, you wiped her tears away and fetched her a warm cup of green tea.

" ...Thank you, for helping me.", she mumbled, an embarrassed blush adorning her face. You shake your head, pressing an affectionate kiss onto her hairline.

"It's nothing you should apologise for, love. It's not your fault he was being an asshole."

Zhezhi snickers, slapping your shoulder playfully. You smile, relieved that she's not too down about the situation. Well, that was what you initially thought. Yet you know her all too well, the slight downturn of her lips was enough of an indicator that she was still feeling down about the whole situation.

"Zhezhi... it really isn't your fault, yknow?", you mumbled, connecting your foreheads together. She met your gaze, sniffling softly. During times like these, you know just the thing to. You lifting up her hand in yours, you press a kiss to her palm, slowly inching up to her collarbone. Zhezhi's breath hitches as you nibble her neck, giving her a hickey. Seeing how she doesn't show any discomfort, you tease her hips with your fingers whilst marking up her neck. An all out attack in her senses leaves her whimpering for you.

You nip her sensitive ear, earning a meek squeak from your lover. She holds onto you, a desperate whimpering mess- all for you. Despite your usual... rougher intimate moments, whenever Zhezhi gets sad like this you've made it a tradition to comfort her with affectionate sex. Toning down on your teasing, you pepper her face with playfully kisses, making her squeal.

"H-hey! That's not fair!", she laughs, hiding her face in your neck. You simply chuckle in response before parting her legs and kneeling down to face her pussy. You'll never get tired of how expressive she is, finding satisfaction in the bright blush adorning her face. Removing her underwear, you lick a teasing stripe through her slit, causing her to twitch and moan.

"Prepare yourself, love. I won't stop till your wetness is all I can taste."

You dive in, sucking on her sensitive clit. Your alternate with tongue fucking her pussy, groaning when you feel her clench on your tongue. The stimulation was mild at first, but your expert skills brought her to heights of pleasure.

"Ah- wait, hyAh! S' too much- hmph!!"

She grips your head and you growl at the interruption, bumping your nose against her clit. You hold her thighs apart with your hands, feeling them twitch as she slowly looses control over her body. You increase your pace, making Zhezhi scream in pleasure. She tries to run away but you hold her down firmly, reassuring her.

"Breathe, sweetheart. Just one more, give me one more." Zhezhi trembles, her pretty eyes shining with unshed tears. She nods, staying still for you to work your magic. Determined to bring her to one last orgasm, you suckle her folds as your fingers play with her clit. Unable to hold back, Zhezhi arches her back with a raw scream of ecstacy, squirting all over your face, her essence dripping onto the floor. You drink her up, being careful to avoid overestimating your lover.

"Haaah... ha...", you get up from your spot on the floor, kissing up her body as she pants from the aftermath. While you had wanted to spoil her with soft sex, something in you knew that she was craving more. So you decide to spoil her with the best aftercare you could provide. You head to the kitchen, fixing up a glass of water before going to the bathroom to get a moist towel. Once you returned, you let her drink from the glass as you wiped her down, holding her in your arms soon after. Zhezhi leans into your embrace as you caress her tired frame, lulling her to sleep.

"Rest now, my love. You deserve it."

Safe to say she slept soundly, knowing she was loved by you.

Baizhi

If anyone were to ask how you and Baizhi acted while working in the Academy, they'd be met with a mixed answer of 'they're in love your honour' and 'this is the 5th time they've tried to sabotage each other, and it's only Monday!'. But to those who've known you both for years, they'd say you and Baizhi had the healthiest rivalry anyone could have in an environment as competitive as the Academy, where its known to be full of intellectual minds.

Your relationship dynamic with Baizhi had brought quite the attention to yourselves, with many researchers vying for a piece of your work-life drama. As you and Baizhi were both one of the top intellectuals in the Academy, your rivalry was top material for a Jinzhou drama show. Competing through research, prototypes and theories, you both made the best pair on the team.

Unbeknownst to everyone else, however, you and Baizhi had an ongoing agreement for each and every competition you held. The 'loser' will have to do whatever the winner says, and the 'winner' will reign in that power for a whole day at most. A healthy agreement considering you both had discussed on what was agreeable for both parties. Although, you've never reached a point as to where you both became 'winners'...

Until today, that is. You had both presented your research on the Echo's to the higher ups, your reports contradicting one another. Despite that, they were both accepted by the Academy heads, leaving both you and Baizhi stunned.

"It... seems that we were both fruitful in our research, Baizhi.", you mumbled as you walked back to your shared lab. Baizhi simply hums, clearly thinking about what happened. "It appears so, though I never anticipated something like this happening."

You reach the now empty lab considering everyone had already gone home for the night. You turn to Baizhi, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean against the table.

"So, we both won this time. Now what?"

Baizhi thinks it over, sitting on the table across from you. You stared at her plush thighs, a blush creeping up your neck. You were always weak for her thighs, given how her resonator mark was on it as well. It was a part of Baizhi that you shamefully had a fetish for, but you'd never admit that. Though the longer you both pondered in silence, the more agitated you became, wanting to bury your face in those luscious thighs of hers.

"It seems there's no other solution but to make us bother winners. So, what do you want to- hey, are you listening?" You break out of your daze, fumbling over your words.

"O-oh, huh?"

Baizhi sighs, sauntering up to you. She pins you against the table, closing the distance between you both. "What's on your mind? I know that beautiful brain of yours must be thinking about something."

You preen at her praise, blushing from embarrassment. You don't reply right away, instead, you turn the tables, pushing Baizhi back somewhat to kneel down and grip her thighs. Baizhi yelps in surprise, not expecting the sudden situation. You kiss her supple flesh, making her moan.

"Well then, allow me to be the first 'winner' to claim her prize.", you purr seductively, enjoying the aroused look on her face. Grabbing the remote, you made sure to lock the lab doors and soundproof the walls for security measures. Once done, you reach up and pull down her thong, slick evident on the fabric.

"Well well... it looks like our dear miss Baizhi here is wet beyond measure. All that slick from just me kissing your thighs, baby?"

Baizhi groans at your teasing, holding the back of your head and stuffing your face in between her thighs. "Shut up..."

You moan happily, spreading her legs to nudge your nose against her sensitive clit. She stifles a moan, refusing to give you the satisfaction of hearing it. You whine in displeasure, biting a hickey onto her left thigh in retaliation. Baizhi hisses at the feeling, her hand gripping at your head.

"Don't be a brat. You'll hear me moan when you've earned it."

You huff in return, a sudden thought appearing in your mind. You grin, a cunning look that leaves Baizhi skeptical- and somewhat worried. You quickly stand up and head to your desk, rummaging through your drawer, looking for something. Baizhi looks at you with a confused frown on her face, calling out to you.

"What are you looking for?"

Finding what you needed, you showed it to her as upu scurried back. Her eyes widen at the object you were holding, a small pink vibrator. You grin, kneeling back once more as you eased her legs apart.

"Easy, baby. We've done this millions of times already. Well- not millions, but you get it.", you chuckle. Despite that, you knew Baizhi felt embarrassed whenever you pulled out the vibrator, one that you specially made for her. She always turned into a quivering mess for you when you use the toy. Pressing a reassuring kiss to her thigh, you ease the toy into her wet folds and turn it up to the lowest setting.

Baizhi shivers at the intrusion, holding onto your shoulder for support. As time goes on, you increase the setting of the vibrator. Baizhi couldn't help but let out her cute whines at the feeling.

"A-ah... mmgh... haAh!"

You revel in her shameless sounds, adding to the sensation by suckling on her clit. Both your hands firmly hold her thighs apart, marking her skin with your nails. Baizhi sobs at the pleasure, her body protesting at the sheer intensity of it all.

"Good girl... Good fucking girl...", you growl into her wetness, watching as droplets of tears gather at her eyelids. She knows to stay in place for you, holding onto the table behind her for support. You increase the intensity to the maximum level once you motive her hips stutter, knowing she was close.

"P-please... darling please!"

How could you ever ignore her whiny gasps? With one last suck to her clit, she comes undone on your tongue. Her slick was enough for the vibrator to slip out, falling onto the floor. You ignored it for now, focusing on easing her down from her orgasm with little kisses and comforting touches.

When you stand up, Baizhi meets your lips with an appreciative kiss, pulling you closer by your hips. You both took a minuet to calm down when suddenly, Baizhi squeezes your ass with her hand.

"Oh! Baizhi?"

Baizhi smirks, her finger trailing down your back, making you arch.

"It's my turn now, darling."

You know, you're starting to regret teasing her so much when you had your way with her.

"So bend over."

End note: I did not anticipate how long it took me to get this done 😅 anyways imma sleep now, that's enough horni for a week 😌

[angelpuns]

Leo hardly felt relieved, even with the tracker now halfway across the city. They still knew where he lived and when they caught up with the rat they were gonna be running back to his lair. And they'd probably be pissed. 

He really wish he knew what these guys wanted, but it wasn't really smart to hear out a villain monologue when it was 3v1, ya know? 

So for now, he had hunkered down in the lair and waited. His traps were set and waiting, and the heavy cage he'd scrounged up from the hidden city police was hidden in a distant room. He wondered vaguely if the big guy could break through, but decided this was his only real option. 

At least if they were trapped in the lair, they were trapped, right? Then he could figure out what to do. 

It felt like hours before he finally heard distant footsteps and muffled, hurried conversation echoing down the subway tunnels. He tucked himself further into his hiding place, peeking over the lip of the vent he was in to spot them. 

Just as he'd predicted, they waltzed right into the entrance, voices whispering frantically to each other. 

Leo rolled his eyes, these guys weren't very smart, huh? If they were trying to sneak up on him they were failing miserably. 

The purple one was nearing a trap, and Leo readied his katana. If he was lucky, they'd all fall for it, but if not he could just wait until they were all standing together. 

The purple one took a step too far and stumbled, right into a net Leo had left there. It wasn't very fancy, sure, but it was what he had on hand, alright? 

There was a confused shout and a scramble to get him out from the other two, and that’s when Leo took his oppurunity. 

He slid from the vent to the floor, their backs to him for the moment. 

The purple one spotted him first from his netted prison, but before he could worn them, Leo launched his sword across the lair. 

He only had two good portals left, so he had to get this right on the first try. 

It stuck into the post behind them, and the three creatures seemed to know what was happening even as Leo landed behind them and cut a portal beneath them. The two that he hadn't trapped fell through, a dramatic clang echoing from the other room as they fell into his cage. 

“ LEOLEOLEO DON'T CUT ME DOWN, I SWEAR TO GALILEO-”

Leo didn't waste time worrying about why this guy knew his name, his other sword coming up to slice the ropes that held him up and drop him into the cage as well, only seconds later than the other two. 

He quickly closed the portal with a huff of exertion.  Yeah, he might have overdone if a bit. 

He trailed lazily into the next room, the cage now rattling with his three green prisoners.  

They stopped when he walked in, though, so maybe he would actually be able to get them to talk. 

“So,” he started, grabbing a chair and flipping it around. He took a seat and leaned forward, arms resting on the back of the chair, “ what do you want from me?” 

----

Okay I think this part is stupid and not written that well, but whatever. I totally forgot about his plan to trap them so I had to backtrack and write all this business out. He really doesn't have much of a plan except for trap them for now and figure it out as he goes, so much for being a strategist :/

I like to think that as good at Leo is as at planning he is better when he has more pieces to work with. In this case he doesn't have nearly enough and he also just doesn't have enough information. also since he doesn't know that they're his brothers he's missing key info that is gonna come back to bite him in the ass :/

Anyway its a good thing this isn't a real au I'm working on as seriously cause I'd be more worried about the plot holes :) this is just to get the idea out on paper before I inevitably move on.

Part 1 | Part 7 | Part 9

[love-at-first-sight-23]

Hello!! Could you please write a sub!Anakin Skywalker where the reader (preferably female reader) ties him up? Like, to a bed or to a chair? And maybe pegs him? Thanks!!

Yes of course!!

All Wrapped Up- Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Plot: Anakin is used to being dominant with you… but tonight you’re the one who has him tied up and bent to your will.

Warnings: Smut, fluff, p in v, pegging, 18+

A/N: Keep the requests coming, loves! I loved this one!

You and Anakin are sitting at the dining hall table, eating dinner together with Padme and Obi-Wan. You try to sit as calmly as you can, dressed nicely and using your napkin and silverware properly. But it’s oh so hard when Anakin sitting is directly across from you, stealing secret glances and smiles at you.

It would be bad. So very bad if Obi-Wan, his master, or anyone found out. But it’s incredibly difficult to ignore those dark eyes, the ones that you could get lost in forever.

You and Anakin have not been together for long, but ever since the two of you met, all you’ve wanted to do was hear his voice, to be in the same room as him, to feel him.

You try to keep things discreet. What the two of you did was kept behind closed doors, where no one could see or hear you. You simply couldn’t help smiling back at him, batting your eyelashes in his direction.

When Anakin accidentally spills a spoon of soup on the table, distracted while looking at you, you cover up a giggle behind your hand.

“Sorry, that was my bad.” He mutters in embarrassment. Oh, how you couldn’t wait for what you would do to him tonight.

As you finish your meal and get up from the table, you stop him before he can leave. Holding his hand, you walk together up to his room, where you lock the door with the key.

Kissing each other on his bed, you love the way his warmth and affection fill you up. You kiss more and more passionately, his hands tangled in your hair. The way the moon shines through the curtains makes the scene straight from a romance movie.

His hands move gently under your dress, lifting it over your head and unclasping your bra. You are now both naked in the brunette’s room, desperate for each other’s intimacy.

Then you decide to turn the tide of events. Taking an old pillowcase, you order him to sit against the bed frame. He eyes you carefully as he does so. You take the fabric and tie his wrists to the headboard, pulling them tightly. You swear you catch a glimpse of fear in his blue eyes. He has no chance of escaping you and he knows it.

“Want me to take care of you, Jedi?” you jeer in his ear.

“Yes.” Is his only response.

At that answer you take his cock in your mouth, sucking it down and forcing it up your throat. He groans as you slide your tongue on its underside, pushing it deeper and deeper. You fight the urge to gag as you nearly hit the back of your throat. Anakin shutters beneath you, and you force him to stay still by pressing your palms into his legs.

His cock finally reaches the end of its passage and you feel his cum flooding down your esophagus as he orgasms. Your eyes close as if to savor the taste. When you release him the juices drip out of your mouth, and Anakin wants nothing more than to touch you when he sees how hot you look gazing up at him.

“Not yet, Ani. You’re not being untied yet,” and he looks downwards, biting his lip. You can see how much he hates not having control, powerless with his hands tied above his head.

Mercilessly you flip him onto his back, retrieving a plastic dildo from his side drawer. Hidden under several books, where no one can accidentally stumble across them. But unfortunately for him, you know all of his secrets. You shove it into his ass hole, causing him to gasp out your name. Hands clenching, sweat beads on his forehead as you thrust the toy in and out of him, ensuring it hits its mark.

You leave the dildo inside of his hole for a few moments, waiting as his breathing becomes increasingly ragged. Then you pull it out of him quickly, bringing out a strangled groan of “Agh-gh!” from his mouth.

“You’re so sexy like this, letting me do whatever I want to you. Do you know that?” you say sweetly. He doesn’t reply, just remains head facing down on the bed. “Only I’m as good at doing this for you, my beloved.”

You flip him back over, deciding to give him what he wants: at least part of the way. Your opening wet with self-lubrication from his sounds, you slip onto his dick, making Anakin throw his head back. Anakin Skywalker, the Chosen One, the most powerful Jedi in the galaxy, falling apart beneath you and calling your name in anguished whines that travel straight to your core.

Your jumping becomes more insistent, as your g-spot is hit deliciously again and again. His nails dig into your back, making you certain there will be marks there tomorrow.

You reach your climax, veins setting on fire like there’s lava flowing through them. Your heart beats out of your chest.

Only after you’ve had your entire fill do you unknot his hands and release him. He sags in relief with you onto the mattress, overstimulated and exhausted. Every movement makes him wince. You clean each other up and Anakin peppers kisses up your neck.

“We’re never doing that again.” He murmurs into your skin.

“We’ll see,” you laugh softly as you fall asleep, snuggled up against his chest.

[theglamorousferal]

The Cryptid of Smallville

I am posting the first couple chapters of the fic that I am currently working on juuuust in case AO3 goes down again. In the next couple days I’ll start posting some of my wips that I don’t think I’ll finish. If any of them inspire people to write more then I’ll be happy. 

I had the thought a while ago about what if Danny was raised alongside Clark Kent and the hijinks that would result in Danny being near the liminal space that is cornfields. These are basically a series of connected one-shots because I am not that great at trying to do a real plot lol

Without further ado, here’s the first chapter of the Cryptid of Smallville! (Small edit: here’s the link to AO3 the first two chapters are there)

______________________________________________________________ The night sky was clear and open above the cornfields as a gentle breeze caused the plants to stir. It was a calm night on the Kent family farm. A streak of neon green broke across the sky and landed in the middle of the fields, purple tinged smoke wafting from the crash site. A boy of about six rolled over in his sleep, glowing green eyes glancing at the stars above framed by smoke. The gentle breeze is still blowing, returning the night to calm.

*****

Danny was gonna put Clockwork in soup time whenever he got back into the Zone. 

He was laying there, staring at the clouds in the sky, surrounded by corn, and only about three and a half feet tall, wondering where in the Realms he was. Clockwork had said something about sending him off somewhere with people who could handle a child with powers growing up before tossing him through a portal by the ankle. He had ended up in low orbit and was lulled to sleep by staring at the stars he is so fond of.

Crawling out of the hole he was in, he examined the surrounding area and just found a bunch of burnt and slightly smoldering corn and kicked up dirt. The gentle breeze brought the smell of bacon to his nose and he floated to look just above the tall plants around him. He spots a house in the distance and starts heading there, making sure to walk the last few yards just in case this isn’t where CW intended him to go. He finds himself stumbling from the field just to make eye contact with a man pulling on his work boots for the day on the porch steps, the man freezes. 

“Hey Martha?” The man yells into the house.

“Yes Jon?” a voice muffled from the door yells back.

“Do we have a spare room done up?” the man, Jon, asks, not taking his eyes off Danny.

“Why? Are you expecting someone and forgot to tell me?” the voice sounds like it’s getting closer to the door.

“No honey, I think we may have a repeat situation of Clark though.” He briefly glances from Danny up to the last bits of smoke wafting from the field. A quiet “What?” comes from the house. He gentles his voice, full attention on Danny. “Hey son, did you have a bit of an accidental landing in the corn? Is your head okay? Are your parents around?”

Danny stays still for a moment thinking about what’s going on. The man seems to at least suspect that he crash landed on his property and mentioned something about something like this happening before. Have these people dealt with a random child appearing at their house before? Specifically one that crashed from the sky? He has many questions, but he should probably answer Jon first. 

“Yeah, I got sent away until I was better, my head doesn’t hurt at all and my parents are not exactly from around here, and don’t know where I am.” He pauses thinking about it. “Does the children-crashing-onto-your-farm-thing happen a lot to you?”

Jon chuckled as he finished tying his boots up and walked down the stairs just as the door opens and a woman in an apron is standing there looking surprised to see an unknown child standing in her yard. The man crouches down in front of Danny, giving him a once-over. 

“You’d be surprised, now what’s your name son?.”

“It’s Danny Fenton, what’s yours?”

“Jon Kent, my wife over there is Martha. Now you look like you could use a good meal and a washup, how’s that sound?” Jon grins at Danny and musses up his hair before standing and offering a hand to walk into the house. He smiles over at Martha who blinks and then gives Danny a warm smile, standing aside to let them enter the house.

“Good thing I made some extra breakfast then, let’s get some food in you young man, you’re as skinny as a post!” She smiles and heads towards the kitchen. “Be sure to wash up your hands first hun, can’t eat with dirty hands! And Jon! What have I told you about your muck boots being in the house! I’m sure Danny can find his way and wash his own hands; second door on the right hun; and git outta my house with those things on, I’ll have more coffee ready for you once you feed the animals!” Jon pouted and trudged his way out of the house.

Danny smiled a little to himself as he looked for the door Martha was talking about, noting the wallpaper and decor that looked like every midwest farmer’s house he’d seen in any piece of media ever. After washing his hands he made his way to where he could hear soft humming and dishes being washed. He saw a plate of pancakes and bacon on the table next to a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk, and a container of syrup and headed to the spot.

“Thank you Mrs. Kent.” he said from his seat and she smiled back at him, going back to the dishes. Danny realized he’d probably have to start explaining what he could to them soon, but decided to focus on the breakfast in front of him. The breakfast that wasn’t alive and currently trying to kill him. He nearly cried.

“So Danny,” Martha began as she wiped her hands off with a dish rag. “Do you remember how it is you got here?” She joined him at the table with a cup of coffee after setting a mug, a spoon and the sugar bowl next to the machine for her husband when he came in.

“I do, it’s a really weird story though, I’m not sure you’ll believe me.” He was hesitant, he still wasn’t sure these were the people that Clockwork meant to send him to. Though they’ve taken the whole crash-landed-child-thing pretty well… Screw it, he’ll see if he can wait until Jon comes back and explain to both of them. “Can we wait for Mr. Kent too? I don’t really want to say it twice.” 

She smiled at him, taking a sip of her coffee and then nodded. “That’s fine hun, he shouldn’t be more than a couple minutes unless the rooster decided to pick a fight again.” she chuckled to herself, looking out of the window while drinking her coffee. She sees the faint trail of smoke rising in the sky outside and her eyebrows pinch in worry. “You didn’t happen to see anythin’ burning when you got up, did you?” 

Danny glances out the window and sees the smoke. “Oh no, there was just a little bit still smoldering in the hole, but there wasn’t anything actively burning. I can show you both when I finish explaining what I can.” The slapping of a screen door startles him and Jon walks in, heading straight for the coffee maker and making himself a cup, then joining them at the table.

“So Danny-boy, what can you tell us?” Jon gives his full attention to Danny. 

Danny shifts in his seat, looking every part the six year old he appeared to be, uncertain at the attention of two adults. “Well, it’s a long story and kinda out there? I’m not sure how much you’ll believe?” He looks uncertain at the pair across from him who share a look. Martha reaches across the table to take Danny’s hand.

“Honey, you wouldn’t believe the stuff we’re used to, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Danny only hesitated a moment longer and then sighed looking far older than his apparent six years. “So to start off with, wherever this is, I’m not from around here. I’m assuming since you both speak English that this is still Earth, but maybe not MY Earth, I’m still a bit confused on the whole ‘multiverse’ thing, but either way, I got sent here until some stuff got sorted out and so I’ll be here until it does.” He was rambling, he knew, but he’s kind of anxious about stuff. “I kinda got put in my childhood body and now I have to get back to my actual age and my Guardian said something about time here running differently than in my dimension before he just chucked me through a portal. He did say he was sending me to people who could handle my weirdness as I age, so I’m assuming you are them and maybe have some experience with kids with freaky weird stuff happening to them?”

The Kents once more shared a look, this one a little longer than the last, then turned back to Danny. “Oh son, I think you’ll fit in just fine. So, how long can we expect you for? I can tell you’re probably a lot older than six judging by how you talk?”

Danny blinked at him, trying to process the fact that they didn’t seem phased and rather seemed like they believed him. “Uh, I was sixteen, so I guess a decade? I’m sorry to impose on you for a while, really I can figure out stuff on my own, I don’t want to be a bother.”

Jon chuckled “Oh trust me son, it wouldn’t be an issue, I’m sure Clark would love a younger brother, or at the very least a friend who understands him. We have plenty of room here, and though we’d probably ask you for help with chores, we’d be glad to have you for however long you need.”

Danny blinks again at them. They weren’t serious, right? They just seem fine taking in a random child and having him live with them for however long. And who was this Clark? What did he mean by younger brother?

“Clark?” he asked hesitantly.

“Oh right, our son, you’ll meet him when he gets home from school, I’m sure you’ll get along just fine! Now Danny, let me show you to a room and we can get you settled, we’ll probably have to head on over to the thrift shop to get you something to wear besides these charred and muddy pj’s, but we should have something from Clark that’s too small that’ll fit you for now.” Martha took his hand and led him upstairs to where he’d be in apparently his new home.

*****

Clark had had a pretty boring day at school. The classes were boring. He had to hold back in gym class again and when studying the skeletal system in biology, he started studying the teacher’s bones instead of the display skeleton or the worksheet. He was really looking forward to getting home and maybe going for a fly around the fields where no one could see him or maybe catching the latest episode of Rescue Rangers. 

He could spot his house in the distance and after looking around to make sure no one would see him, he sped down the driveway as fast as he could, knocking up a lot of dirt in the process. He really liked going fast, whether running or flying. He just loved the wind in his hair. 

“Ma, Pa, I’m home.” he kicked his sneakers off and rushed upstairs into his room to drop off his bag. He listened around for heartbeats and realized that Pa was out on the tractor and Ma was out with the chickens. He froze as he heard a much closer sound though. It was very slow and faint, but he could hear another heartbeat in the house. Even more, he could hear someone muttering to themselves in the guest room and the flipping of pages.

Clark slowly made his way down the hall towards the sound and peaked in the room with his x-ray vision. There, sitting on the ceiling, was a child about half his age reading a ratty old book about space. Clark stood in the doorway, now able to see him in regular vision and just stared at him. He took a moment until he decided to just join him up there and sat across from him.

“So who are you?” Clark asked while the kid was still focused on his book. He didn’t even look up from the book.

“Name’s Danny.” The kid paused for a second before he looked up and stared at Clark. Danny looked from Clark to the ceiling, to the floor, and then back to Clark. “Oh, so that’s why they said I’d fit right in here. I guess we are pretty similar! I’m guessing you’re Clark then?” The child beamed at him, putting out his hand to shake. Clark took it gently, not wanting to hurt the kid. Then the kid gripped his hand tight and Clark realized that they have more in common than he thought and gripped his hand tighter in response.

“So where are you from?” Clark asked, very curious as to how this kid who could fly and had his strength, but also had almost no heartbeat ended up at his house. Danny rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m not from this Earth and I kinda got put here to recover for a long while and my Guardian decided your parents are the best equipped to handle a kid growing up with powers, so he sent me here. I’m guessing because of you?” 

“Yeah, mine started manifesting around your age. What powers do you have? How long do you plan to be here? Where are you from? You said this wasn’t your Earth, I’m guessing you’re from a different dimension then? That’s so cool!” Clark, ever curious, shot off many questions rapid fire and Danny laughed while answering them all as best he could.

Part 2

[thegreatobsesso]

Happy Storyteller Saturday 💜

This is your invitation to share a snippet of your writing that you love, and talk about why you love it.

Bless! Not sure why this was the first thing that popped into my head to post, but here you go:

Sober Electra screamed in protest; if she was here she’d be waving a big neon sign that said, SHUT UP, DUMMY. But Sober Electra wasn’t here - all the vodka killed that boring bitch and now Drunk Electra was steering the ship!  Ship, ship - a drunken sea captain, eyepatch and peg leg, sailing straight into the eye of the storm. “My dad,” she said, vaguely aware of the silly grin she was probably wearing. Peter just looked at her like he was waiting for more.  Right! That wasn’t enough for him to understand the thing she was trying to say; she needed more words than that. But they were hard to find when he was looking at her like that. Why did she feel like she was gonna catch on fire when he looked at her?  “He used to say, when I mouthed off,” she stumbled forward, putting on her best impression of him, “Ellie, you stop that right now or I’ll wash your mouth out with soap. And then sometimes, when I kept on sayin’ stuff he didn’t like, then he did.”  Even Drunk Electra knew to stop there because that train of thought pulled into the station at a bad place. Toot toot, next stop Damageville, where a thin, half-used bar of blue soap slides down your throat because of all your thrashing and then you can’t breathe anymore. Dad’s fists under your ribs, trying to dislodge it, failing because it’s wet and slippery.  Pulling magic out of yourself you didn’t even know you had.  The only time she ever actually moved something with magic, too. But now, with Peter, she was going to do it again. That was what he did. That was why she was with him, now. Dad had just cried and thanked God and called it a miracle. What a fucking dumbass.  “That sounds awful,” Peter said over her deafening inner monologue. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”  She wasn’t uncomfortable. She felt like straight-up shit. She’d just been having fun, too. Now her mouth tasted like soap.  “It’s fiiiine,” she said, turning her head toward him too quickly and nearly face-planting into his lap. She caught herself with a hand on his chest, or, maybe he caught her first by steadying her shoulders.  She was okay.  She was here now, wasn’t she? Jack-o-lanterns grinned from the windowsills and make-believe cobwebs blanketed the balustrades. If there were any spirits haunting the graduate tower they were friendly ones and all the bad stuff was over and gone. The past was a bridge under water, or something.  “Maybe it’s time for bed,” Peter said. “How’s that sound?”  “It sounds so good,” she hummed. “I’m...”  She closed her eyes, imagining the nice thick blankets, curling up, cozy and comfy. “Mmm. I’m cold in here.”  Peter shrugged off his button-down sweater and held it behind her, leading her hands through the holes. Then she let him put one of her freshly-sweatered arms around his waist to steady herself as they stumbled back to her room.  “I have a secret,” she sang as he helped her with her key. “And I’m not gonna tell you what it is, no - matter - what.”  She pinched her fingers and pulled them across her lips, like a zipper.  “That’s alright,” he said, smiling as the wards pulled back. “Tomorrow you can tell me all about the secrets you’re not gonna tell me.”  He came in just far enough to supervise her descent into bed, and she fell asleep without taking off her heels. 

Here are all the reasons I love this flashback scene from The Insuppressible Electra Ray:

The sweater he puts on her at the end is hugely plot-relevant and basically the entire scene was written around a reason he'd do that, but it turned into a scene where we learn a bit about her trauma and get to attend a cozy Halloween party at a magic school.

I love writing people in various stages of being drunk/drugged/otherwise compromised. It's so fun.

The past was a bridge under water, or something is literally one of my favorite lines I've ever written.

Electra is so fucking stupid, I love her to death - she presents as so powerful and threatening but she's literally just a dumb frat guy.

<3

[shuunnico]

Any criticisms for the Lord of the Rings trilogy?

A few.

Primarily, I'll talk about the extended cuts, but special mention goes out to two in particular in the theatrical because of how egregious they are.

Cutting Saruman's death and the Mouth of Sauron both create issues with plot holes and unresolved plots. The first doesn't give Saruman and Wormtongue closure and the second causes continuity issues when they army is at the gate.

Now, for the extended versions:

Fellowship:

The Nazgul should've seen the hobbits during the "Get off the road!" scene. The road is a straight path and the hobbits were only just out of sight when the rider appears.

Gandalf should've said something about the Mines not being safe. He very clearly knew something was wrong given his expression.

The goblins should not have been able to hone in on the Fellowship that fast, given the chain/corpse fell into a deep pit, far below them.

Two Towers:

Brego finding Aragorn after he falls off the cliff is very convenient. The horse was let loose a day prior and it just so happened to head in the right direction to stumble across Aragorn in his time of need.

The 'torch orc' that needs to be shot and killed before it sets off the bombs is a bit silly when you realize that if Legolas DID kill him, they'd just send another one.

The elves were very clearly added last minute. While this isn't a huge issue, they do just show up so they can die and have no greater impact on the story. Nobody remembers Haldir.

Gollum's betrayal could've been avoided if Frodo just told him the truth about the pool, archers and threat to his life instead of misleading him.

Gollum should've been having his 'self talks' a bit further from Frodo and Sam. Given the volume he's speaking at, it's a miracle none of them woke up and overheard him.

Return of the King:

The Eagles aren't properly set up or explained. You can infer some things, but a lot of it has to rely on the books to understand and that's not great.

Denathor, on fire, would not have been able to run that far.

The Eye probably should've seen Frodo when it focused on him. It would've been better to have the spotlight almost get to Frodo before Aragorn pulls its attention away.

That an entire tower of orcs kill themselves, allowing Sam to nearly breeze in and rescue Frodo is very convenient. If that didn't happen, Sam would've had no chance.

That the giant chasm opens up in just the right way to swallow all of Sauron's forces, but spares Aragorn's army is convenient and silly with how precise it is.

Overall, I love the Lord of the Rings trilogy. Literally the reason I got into mythology, folklore, world building and just wanting to be creative overall. But I can't say they're perfect.

These aren't just personal issues, like how I might dislike Sauron's helmet design or how I don't like how Faramir/Eowyn get together the way they did.

These are more concrete writing flaws within the script and story. You don't have to be bothered by them, you can like them if you want, but they are still issues that probably should've been buffed out before the films

[veerbles]

it's been a month and a half since I finished the trc series and while I'm still in that nice fic-binging portion of the post-book phase, I've been somewhat unsuccessfully trying to put together my final thoughts on it. so I'm gonna try to do it in writing instead.

I'm not usually a big fan of reading criticism in fandom spaces, so I'm just going to put all my thoughts under a read more and if anyone is interested in reading this: this has been your fair warning.

overall, I obviously enjoyed the books. I think my very first assessment to my s.o. of it the night I finished trk was: good writing, really good character work, excellent world building; so-so plotting.

so here's the plotting thing. just before I read trk I stumbled across an interview with the writer that made me sort of uneasy, and gave me an ominous feeling that turned out to be completely accurate. she told the interviewer, "Secrets and tricks, that’s all I’ve got," and immediately I got the inescapable feeling: this is an author who thinks they're really smart, and wants you to know they're really smart, and they are going to finish the books in a way that makes you think they are really smart, for all the wrong reasons.

let me preface by saying: not every question needs to be answered in the final book of the series. some questions are meant to keep you wondering, and that's fine, as long as they're not integral to the plot. why did the gang find one of the pig's wheels in the mysterious lake? don't know, and it's fine that I don't. iirc, ronan even mentions it at the end of trk and thinks to himself that maybe their adventures with the ley line aren't finished. cool! loose ends!

but some questions are integral to the plot. and in the trc's case, too many of them are left unanswered, to the point where I didn't get even a hint of that 'ooooh, the foreshadowing' feeling you expect to get when everything is finally resolved in a clever way. it left me with the feeling that the writer wanted the book to feel smart and mysterious by using all these tricks and secrets, and then overshot her own abilities to tie all of these tricks together into a cohesive plot, leaving more holes than material.

1. Glendower & Co.

the glendower plotline is one of the most disappointing things I've read in a while. I'm SORRY, but it's true. I love mythology! I loved the potential of this! I don't even mind that he ended up being dead all along - that's fine, if not a bit expected imo. the real magical favor was the friendship we made along the way etc. etc.

but if you really, really think about it, he ended up serving no point to the books. the trc series would've been virtually the same if gansey was obsessed with researching the ley lines themselves for the magical aspect of it, and ended up stumbling upon cabeswater in the exact same way, and wandered around in its caves, and the demon was awoken. glendower could've easily been written out entirely.

OR: the glendower story could've still served a purpose while being dead. they literally woke up both his magicians - gwenllian and artemus - and even drew parallels to two of the main characters by calling ronan and adam "gansey's magicians", but BOTH OF THEM served no purpose to the plot? at all?? I would've even accepted them not serving direct purpose, but instead helping further along blue's character arc. except blue spends three books wondering about her biological father, has one (1) conversation with him, finds out she's a half tree-spirit and... that plotline goes nowhere, enters the game way too late, and doesn't tie in to much else in the end.

or instead, the writer could've leaned into the obvious hint-dropping and played out the reincarnation plot that was lying in waiting. but as soon as the hints about gansey actually being glendower started being too heavy, I knew it wouldn't happen. because again: a writer who wants to come off smarter that their readers won't drop hints that their readers can easily decipher (even when sometimes it's definitely the right thing to do, to improve the reading experience).

the glendower pointlessness pokes more holes in the story. why did noah become a ghost? not every dead person in henrietta does, clearly. presumably, he became a ghost because gansey was dying at the same time. but why? "You will live because of Glendower. Someone else on the ley line is dying when they should not, and so you will live when you should not." gansey heard this glendower line because time is a loop, etcetera; noah whispered it to him before he passed on because he knew he was supposed to, because gansey already told him. but if there's no glendower magic, only ley line magic, then the whole "balance" thing was supposed to be that gansey got to live because noah died. except noah didn't die. presumably #2, noah didn't die (yet) because he was supposed to trade his life for gansey's, which he does, at the end of trk. but what all this means is that noah traded his life for gansey's twice, both when he got stung and when blue kissed him, at two different points in time. and we still have no explanation, or even a hint of an explanation, for what powered the ghost thing.

2. Prophecies

in the raven boys, we get several prophecies: one, from the fox way psychics; blue will kiss her true love and he will die. two through five, from the dreaming tree; blue will kiss gansey, in his aglionby sweater, and he'll ask her to kiss him knowing it'll mean his death. adam will cause gansey's dying and his friends will turn on him. gansey will see glendower lying in his grave. blue and gansey will almost-kiss in his car and talk about wanting to just pretend they can.

in the raven king, ronan says the prophecies in the dreaming tree aren't prophecies at all: "[They're] Nightmares. [...] When I dreamt that tree, that’s what it did. Worst-case scenarios. Whatever mindfuckery it thought would be most likely to mess you up the next day.”

except, blue's vision is an exact match for the kiss scene in trk. gansey's vision about glendower is an exact match. their combined vision about the almost kiss is an exact match for a scene in bllb. all of these come true.

so one of two explanation has to be true: ronan is wrong, or the writer ret-conned herself into a corner so she won't have to deal with the last vision. but this is an internal conflict - if ronan is wrong, that means adam's vision is a prophecy, and it just never gets addressed properly. did he really change his fate by sacrificing himself to cabeswater? how? what was supposed to happen, originally? and if the future changed, what was the point of showing the vision to begin with...? it's very possible there could be a reason, but seeing as it's never presented to the reader, it brings me back to the writer wanting to be smart more than she cares about the reading experience.

3. Henry

I'll probably get hate for this, but that's okay. what the fuck was the point of henry?

don't get me wrong: he's a fun character. I'd argue that he's not significantly more fun than the fox way ladies, or mr. gray, or any of the other side characters that didn't get a huge amount of focus and certainly could've, but it's less that I'm mad about henry than the fact that I'm mad about henry's patchwork insertion.

henry gets mentioned for the first time in bllb, and only gets actual action in trk. that's fine. another side character. but in a sudden, unexpected turn, he goes from cameo to main character that is present in all of the big plot moments, is suddenly in the gang, and is tied into gansey and blue's future post-canon...?

if henry was so important, he should've been written in from the get-go. I cannot be expected to care about a character that turned up in the third act of the play. if henry wasn't so important, but serves as a plot device in the fight against the demon and/or a character replacement for noah (like we're in a disney tv show and when a character gets written off another is written in as their "archetype" replacement), he shouldn't be given so much screen time and should definitely not be there at the culmination of the story (gansey dying).

I just couldn't bring myself to be as excited about gansey's plot in trk - when, arguably, trk IS about gansey's plot - because most of gansey's chapters were spent on trying to sell me on henry. and like, he's fun! he ends up deeper than he looks! the toga party chapters are... fun...? but I didn't see the point, and so couldn't bring myself to care all that much. and now whenever he's in fics I resent him, and that's sad, because it's for no reason at all. if he just got treated as the minor character he is, I would've liked him so much more.

CONCLUSION: I might add more points when I think of them. lol, sorry. this is a rant, not an actual review.

[courtneysmovieblog]

Stumbled across some MCU stan tweets ripping on the people complaining about the Rhodey Skrull reveal.

We’re not upset about Rhodey being a Skrull, we’re upset that that he might have been a Skrull since CW, which means all his movie character development was Skrullshit! And even the showrunners can’t seem to make up their minds about when he was replaced--what kind of writers throw out shock twists without even a plan?! JFC...

The more I think about it, the more I feel like any other character would’ve been a better Skrull reveal than Rhodey: Maria, Sharon, Val, Thunderbolt Ross, Natasha’s rando friend, Wanda (impossible, I know but still)...hell, Endgame Steve or even Peggy would have been fun just to piss off the Steggy shippers!

Instead, the MCU just tosses out two measly Skrull reveals that cause more plot holes and tries to pass them off as good twists. If the MCU stans are happy with that, whatever, but they don’t have to trash us just because we don’t like their crap writing.

[sakuraryomen01]

Hello yesterday i stumbled across your blog while looking for Sukuna fics and read the jerk childhood best friend Sukuna one...and omg!! I'm in loveeee! it's soo good! The fun, angst and tension kept me on my toes. Their dynamic is so goooood. Reading it with the songs you provided really escalated the experience. I wanted to thank you for making my not so good day end with happiness 😊😊 you are brilliant writer.

First of all, my dear reader, I wanted to say thank you for the boost in confidence in my writing. Recently I've been in a rut so your kind words really mean a lot to me, I hope to start posting again as I have not been feeling that mentally well.

(Has been the excuse for months now ~~;;)

I've been worried about plot holes I may have missed, or any other mistakes I may make. I've also been working on things for my fic so that it's better! (And more songs!!♥)

Until then, I hope to post soon!!!

Ty for reading^^

[brokenrealitylooper]

Some of my favorite anime are older ones; Evangelion, Eureka Seven, Robotech, Inuyasha. Though I do like some more recent ones; RWBY (yes it counts), Sword Art Online, Log Horizon, Arpeggio of Blue Steel.

But the place I enjoy writing is RWBY and Evangelion. Though they aren't what got me into fanfiction.

This is long, and ends up rambling about Fruit Loops at the end. (my massive RWBY time loop fic. so, ya know, spoilers)

-o-

I started looking for stories after watching Vandread, and stumbled across both Vandread and Inuysha fanfics. (c.2005-ish)

My favorites there are "Vandread: Army" by... I think Norsehound, and "Source of Magic" by Moonsilver, respectively. "Vandread: Army" I can't find any longer, but it involved a larger crew that altered some of the story in an interesting way. It's too bad it appears to be gone, as it was one of the better ones that didn't add angst. "Source of Magic" also disappeared, but I was able to contact the original author and got permission to post it on FFnet before I left that domain for Ao3. It's a really neat blend of Inuyasha and the modern world, where Kagome is the "source of magic", and who she marries changes magic's alignment to either light or dark. It occurs over their time in college, and is a fun read.

-o-

I went on to watch Evangelion, and that's when I fell in the rabbit hole of fanfiction. Reading so many stories of Asuka and Shinji, and wanting to try my hand at alternate endings. I still have my FFnet, and it still has most of my old writing. (c.2007-2014)

I shipped Asuka and Shinji, of course, but I also had a lot of fun shipping Asuka with Touji; they appear in the little bit I did for an Evangelion time loop fic set in the same... "universe", I guess, as Fruit Loops. I also had fun mixing up the other couples, like: Kensuke and Hikari, Shinji and Hikari, and Kensuke and Rei.

Some of my favorite Evangelion fics are "The 2nd Try" by JimmyWolk, and "The One I Love Is" by Alain Gravel/Rakna. I'd caution on "TOILI" as it has some some implied sexual content--much like the series--though it's been decades since I read it, so I'm not sure what that content was. T2T is clean, and is a time travel fix-it fic. Highly recommend.

-o-

Now, RWBY... RWBY is where I finally wrote and finished my multi-chapter fics; Tarnished Silver and its sequel Regrets and Love. I also have a massive time loop fic called Fruit Loops--referencing the colors and that it's a time loop--that I'm slowly working on. It has over 440k words already, and will only get bigger. I also have a collection of oneshots set in NobleTheft--the series name for TS and R&L--that adds non-canon and canon scenes, titled "NobleTheft Omake". (c.2015-current)

I love how the FNDM--or fandom--gave pairings nicknames, like Lancaster for Ruby and Jaune, or WhiteKnight for Weiss and Jaune. That's where NobleTheft comes in, it's for Weiss and Roman. I love all three, plus DragonSlayer (Jaune and Yang).

But in looking for good fics, I stumbled across Ruby and Roman in one called "Two Side Of A Bloodied Coin" by ItalianTorchwick. It's an insanely well done fic, and handles the age difference well. They don't get together until years after a big fight separated them. I used it as a bit of inspiration for Fruit Loops.(pairing is RoseWick) Another good one, which inspired a plot device in Fruit Loops, was "SoulBound" by xT-Zealot. It's closer to canon, and deviates by adding in "soul bonds", the ability to tie the Auras of two people together to feel emotion and heal each other. It does lean on the FNDM's love for WhiteRose and BumbleBee (Weiss and Ruby, and Yang and Blake) but is a good story. There was also "Dating What Daddy Hates" by Coeur Al'Aran. Weiss doesn't want her father setting her up, so she makes a deal with Sun: pretend to be her boyfriend during her family's vacation to get Jacques off her back. Jacques calls her out towards the end, but by that point she and Sun have actually fallen for each other. (this ship is called SunFlakes)

-o-

Now after all that, I wanna just list out my ships in those two.

Evangelion: Asuka/Shinji Asuka/Touji Asuka/Kaworu Hikari/Kensuke Hikari/Shinji Hikari/Touji Hikari/Kaworu Rei/Kensuke Rei/Kaworu

RWBY: Lancaster. Ruby/Jaune Rosewick. Ruby/Roman WhiteKnight. Weiss/Jaune NobleTheft. Weiss/Roman (My favorite, but I'm biased; I wrote two whole fics and a collection of oneshots for them) SunFlakes. Weiss/Sun BlackSun. Blake/Sun DragonSlayer. Yang/Jaune Goldilocks. Yang/"Junior" Hei Xiong (as far as I know, this is only in Fruit Loops)

-o-

And finally, explaining a little of Fruit Loops and its pairings.

Lexicon first: Looping is repeating time, "I'm Looping". Looper is the person who remembers previous timelines, "I'm a looper". Waking/Awake/Woke Up refers to a person suddenly remembering all the lives they've lived. "I'm Awake, Ruby" or "I Woke Up this morning". Aware means the person is aware in some way that time is repeating, but they generally don't remember anything. Anchor is the person who's death triggers time to reset. "Weiss is the Anchor".

Loops generally last about six years, from the first day at Beacon until Weiss died at her family home in a White Fang attack two years after graduating. Sometimes they last longer, when Weiss is able to prevent or survive the attack. Sometimes it's only longer for a few, when they "Wake Up" further back in time than Beacon. Only Weiss is Awake for every Loop, the others wake almost randomly. When Weiss Wakes Up relative to the others is also random, though normally she Wakes first. Each time they Wake to a new timeline, their Aura increases. They keep the Aura they had from the previous timeline, and gain added Aura from the new timeline. This leads to some crazy tricks and abilities as the well of power they have to draw on deepens.

Okay, so...

Because time keeps repeating every time Weiss dies, no'one who is "looping" is actually their physical ages. Everyone that gets together is offset heavily in the opposite direction. (eg. Ruby is well into her 200s by the time she and Roman start dating, and he's barely starting on 100. Similarly, Yang is also in her hundreds by the time she and Junior--barely a few decades behind her--settle into NotDating. I'm not counting Weiss and Jaune as, despite the loops making her decades older than him, they were already together before time started repeating.)

The offset in ages is because they didn't all start looping at the same time, as mentioned above. First Weiss, as "anchor", then Yang after dozens of loops. Ruby was next, a handful of loops later. Blake followed a dozen or two after Ruby.

The pattern mostly holds for everyone. Junior actually became "aware"--recalling pieces or just rolling with comments that reference previous timelines--before Blake started "Waking", and became a Looper soon after, though he made Yang keep it a secret for a while.

Roman was next, followed by Ozpin. Ozpin actually kept to himself a few Loops before Waking and catching Roman acting as a professor, and Roman outed him. (Roman did it for Ruby, he Woke early enough to keep his name clear and put in the effort to become a professor at Beacon. Her "knightly thief".)

There was a pause before Neo started Looping, and another long pause before Cinder started to Loop as well. Emerald was next, and then a pause before Mercury joined the Loops.

There was another longer pause before Ironwood began Looping, though like Ozpin he "stealth looped" to avoid giving away his knowledge of past timelines until, again, Roman outed him.

And last, after another long pause, Adam started Looping.

The group believes Roman and Adam started Looping because of how focused on "turning them around" Ruby and Blake were. Ruby for Roman, Blake for Adam. Though they aren't sure what is required to "add" a Looper; mere proximity, general interaction, or interaction with intent.

After Adam starts Looping, Blake suffers a sort of... mental break? I suppose? She never liked Roman, and several times hunted him when Ruby wouldn't catch her. Her relationship with Adam was unclear, and after an argument with him and Yang, she took time to really look at herself.

(One moment while I back up: Blake, who often fled or retreated into her books, got really good at putting on an act when she had to interact with Roman. Or anything else that made her uncomfortable, and she couldn't avoid. She leaned heavily on it, to the point where she didn't realize she was "checking out" every time she used a "mask/front".)

Continuing: Blake realized she had locked herself in. No growth, no change, even after centuries. But locked in her mind was the memories of a version of herself who lived a full life before she had Woken Up to that Loop. A whole person who wasn't trapped by her own mind.

Blake didn't care that she could have unlearned her habits. She was, again, running. She pulled out all the memories of this other Blake, pushed it to the front, and let go. Belladonna "died", and Blake Woke Up to the Loops.

After that mess was settled, Blake settling in and reconnecting with everyone--including Roman, as her memories from her "first life" painted him as a mentor--they begin to really focus on finding a way to end the Loops.

Out there, Roman and James had learned, was a quartet of very twisted individuals who had orchestrated Weiss' death, trying to twist the Kingdoms to their own ends or, failing that, burn them down to start their empire over.

[ladygenevieves]

☽ G U I D E L I N E S . ☾

Ⅰ. ABOUT ME

The name I go by online is my middle one, Ann. I’m twenty-six-years old, cis-female (she/her), bisexual, & from the US (EST).

I've had an interest in fantasy from a young age. I was enraptured by Barbie & her paintbrush, which could transport her anywhere she wished when she waved it across a wall. Or the Lady Amalthea, & her majestic form as both human & unicorn. As well as the Pevensie children, & the wardrobe which needed only be stepped through, which thus led them into a magical realm. And who could forget Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole to a strange new world?

As I grew older, fantasy became far more of an escape, & the subjects of my fascination changed—Outlander, Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Rings of Power, The Lord of the Rings, etc—but not my enchantment with the genre. When I write in these environments, I am transported to them, and I'm glad to have you here with me as we make our escape.

Ⅱ. GENERAL

This blog is meant to be a safe space for you as much as it is for me. Feel free to read, interact, & peruse at your leisure. Be aware that I do have a full-time job, though, along with a number of other responsibilities to tend to—from household chores, to errands, to pets. That said, this space is very personal to me, & I intend to spend a good deal of time continually curating a wonderful experience here for all involved. I want it to feel like a sort of little digital home for any who step across its threshold.

Ⅲ. INTERACTION

I’m an open book & would love to make new friends! I’m exceedingly easy to get along with. I love discussing hyper-fixations of all kinds. Whether it’s writing, reading, TV, games, music, & beyond.

If you ever have any questions about Gen, the character I’m shipping her with, the lore I’ve created, resources I’m using, this blog, Photopea questions (my chosen medium for Photoshop, because I’m definitely not paying for the real thing, lol), etc., please do not hesitate to shoot me an ask. I encourage curiosity, expanding your horizons, & indulging in your creative spirit! It’s how this blog was born, after all.

Ⅳ. PROHIBITED

Drama, call-outs, anon hate, content theft, & bigotry of any kind will not be tolerated here. You’ll merely be blocked if you exhibit such behavior, rather than indulged in being given the attention you’re clearly seeking. This is a place of peace, learning, & exploring. And I won’t have it otherwise for a moment for me, my followers, or anyone else who stumbles upon this blog.

Ⅴ. CONTENT

I write both fanfiction & original stories here. I tend to focus primarily upon the former, however, as it’s easier to work off of pre-established worlds/settings & characters when you’re just doing all of this for a fun hobby like I am.

I’ve been writing fanfiction for around 15-16 years. I started, as many did, with Twilight (though, my story was written by-hand & heavily based on Stephanie Meyer’s world & characters, instead of being a direct reworking of it with her actual mechanics & characters). I’ve been writing as a whole since I was 5, however, & hope I’ve come a long way from writing about disappearing haunted houses and vampire cats, lol.

Ⅵ. THEMES

I will be exploring innumerable subjects here. Some triggering, some not. I will list on my posts, in the tags, said triggers so you are warned before clicking the ‘read more’. If you get upset after reading something you were forewarned about, do not come complaining in my inbox or comments about it. I took the initiative to ensure you were educated before you went forth in looking over what I’ve written.

I do write dead-dove, sometimes out of interest, sometimes as catharsis, & sometimes because it serves the plot well. I don’t like limiting myself in my writing & don’t intend to start doing as much.

Nevertheless, I do like to sometimes break things up by writing fluff & just generally more pleasant topics. I’m always onto something new, so be sure to keep a look out!

Ⅶ. FORMAT

I’m definitely seeking a specific sort of aesthetic with this space. So, I plan to make it as pretty as I can, right down to the last nail, so to speak. I use special tags & keep things here meticulously organized. So, if something isn’t working, or doesn’t look quite right, please, please let me know so I can fix it ASAP! Keeping things tidy is for my sake, yes, but also so my followers have an exceedingly easy time navigating my little home for Genevieve on both desktop & mobile, including on the Tumblr app.