#today I love you especially deep miss you enormously

[myheartxmyman]

[nadas-dirthalen]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART ONE — [ 2 ]

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's begin with...

Titans: Dark and Light, Compassion and Rage, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (1/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

Alright, pals. If you've been here a while, you know how this goes. I always start by listing what we're going to cover, like anyone who's never fully recovered from academia.

Today's Discussion:

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The Titans the first Shapers of the known world.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans

The best thing about Dragon Age, as someone who loves the series to death, is that its worldbuilding is consistent, but also bears the unique quality that we, as players, are not aware of it all. Our protagonists in each game don't know everything; the people they learn from also don't know everything. We learn what we can through codices that are all biased and need an extra layer of decoding. This is a feature, not a bug.

It also means that we did not know how to understand the Titans before. Even my 30,000 words of theorycrafting, especially my piece all about the Titans, had elements of speculation. I had to check that speculation against other sources like the Chant of Light, which is a source that we REALLY did not know how to decode when it was revealed piece by piece in DAO, DA2, World of Thedas, and Inquisition.

Here, I'm going to break it all down, piece by piece.

The Titans were the first Shapers of the (known) world.

It is said in the Descent DLC that Titans are enormous beings whose singing shapes the world. Their existence predates much of Thedas, if not all of it. The Titans are called the first Shapers for this reason, and in Veilguard it is restated several times over that they did, indeed, shape the world—for instance, by Cole in Inquisition.

"Their ancient shapers were mountains drawn of all their wills, walking their memories into valleys of the world." —Cole dialogue.

Inquisition told us so much more about the Titans than just that, though. The Titans have a realm all their own, a counterpart to the Fade, mentioned over and again in the Chant of Light and referenced as a quest name in Inquisition.

Here lies the abyss: the well of all souls.

The Titans are beings of the Abyss.

Now, it's important that I mention right here that the Chant of Light has existed long before Inquisition. In fact, its tale is what opens DA:O as the game begins. Recently Eurogamer stated that BioWare has had a massive lore document for the 20+ years of its existence, and I believe that there is no truer example of this than in the Chant of Light itself.

The Abyss, for a long time, was a mystery to us. Inquisition cleared it up a lot—not only with its game content, but with World of Thedas' publication shortly thereafter.

Not only is the Abyss referred to in many elven codices, but we go there. The key locations of the Descent DLC—the Forgotten Caverns, Bastion of the Pure, and the Wellspring—are in a region called the Uncharted Abyss.

Now, with Harding, we go deeper into the Deep Roads than the average dweller. The same is true in that instance: venture down far enough, and we reach a Titan's heart.

We find a Titan's heart there. But the Titan does not wake—none have before DA:tV, and even then, they have not fully woken. Because, for as long as we have known...

The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.

"It's singing. A they that's an it that's asleep, but still making music." — Cole dialogue.

There is so much Cole dialogue in Inquisition that speaks on the sleeping Titans, on their old songs that once sang the same, on how they will never wake up, that it would be folly to try and post every codex here. Suffice it to say: Cole knows of the Titans, knows of their songs, and knows they are asleep. He is one of the pathways to our knowledge of the Titans in Inquisition, and his words are peppered throughout the game.

The Chant of Light also makes reference to a mountainous Maker, who oft speaks about a forgotten mountain. When Andraste meets the Maker "in darkness unbroken," specifically, these words are used:

The Maker Appears to Andraste (7) Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. — Andraste 1:7

Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing — a being who has been broken, but whose heart still beats. We can hear that, in the Descent DLC.

Veilguard confirms that both sources are true through Harding, her personal quest, and the codices for the Dwarven people.

Records that exist outside of Orzammar mention "great sleeping Titans" and "the First Ancestors." — Codex Entry: Harding's Notes: Orzammar and Titans

Harding's experiences in Veilguard, in this way, serve to prove Cole right. That is a deliberate narrative choice: BioWare's way of saying, Yes, this is true. Yes, you should take Cole's take on Titans as correct.

We also know, from Cole, that this state of being is permanent. Not only are the Titans asleep, but they don't know how to wake.

Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how. No one should be here. — Cole dialogue.

This becomes crucial information in Veilguard, and central to the main plot. It serves as the backdrop for what actually matters most to the characters living in Thedas right now, which is...

Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.

By now, a lot of people have seen this reveal in the art book: the dwarves were created to tend to their Titan hosts/makers. But we knew this before—we just didn't know it in context, and therefore we did not believe it to be objectively true of Thedas.

In truth, we've known about the elves and the dwarves' origin since the Chant of Light came out in full with World of Thedas volume 2.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I talk about it in more depth in my Chant of Light dissection, but what this verse says in context is that the dwarves (the Maker's second children) are beings crafted by the maker: bodies made of lyrium, souls made of the same "dream and idea, hope and fear" as the original spirits.

This concept has already been massively hinted toward with both Valta (who has become The Oracle in DA:tV) and Dagna, who both connect to isatunoll during Descent and Inquisition's base game, respectively.

We've known about the Evanuris' horrible crimes since before Inquisition, as well, for the same reason and from the same verses in the Chant of Light.

Until, at last, some of the firstborn said: "Our Father has abandoned us for these lesser things. We have power over heaven. Let us rule over earth as well And become greater gods than our Father." (8) The demons appeared to the children of earth in dreams And named themselves gods, demanding fealty. — Threnodies 5

With the context given to us by Trespasser and Veilguard, we know without a doubt that the Evanuris are those "jealous spirits" that comprise the Maker's first children.

And just like the Chant describes, they sought to conquer the earth: the realm of the Titans.

The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.

Trespasser taught us so much of what we needed to know about the Evanuris' and Titans' conflicts. Its codices in the Deep Roads outline how it was Mythal, specifically, creating some of the first elves in the coffins found in that zone. The Temple of Solasan features coffins of the exact same kind.

Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras Ir san'a emma Him solas evanuris Da'durgen'lin Banal malas elgara Bellanaris, bellanaris. — Codex: Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3

My (updated) translation: Isatunoll Mythal gives you dreams Lyrium within Becomes Solas evanuris Little stone boy You give nothing to the Titan (anymore) Forever, forever.

Trespasser reveals that Mythal mined the bodies of slain titans and rendered their demesne unto the People: she conquered Titans and used their bodies for her own ends. The hints about these actions, however, are not exclusive to Trespasser, nor to Solasan. These seeds were planted all the way back at the Temple of Mythal.

Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work. Elgar'nan, help us tame the land.

This codex to Elgar'nan makes reference to Elgar'nan giving victory over the Earth (capital-E, the Titans). Trespasser would follow this up with much context—that it was Mythal who was first known to have slain Titans, "rendering their demesne unto the People."

I theorized that Mythal's mining of Titans for lyrium to make elvhen bodies was what angered the Titans, based on codices in Trespasser and the Temple of Solasan. (I go into much more depth there!) Veilguard confirms this theory in Solas' Memory #4: A Memory of Manifestation.

Solas: I have the Fade. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake? Mythal: The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade. We are the best of physical and spirit.

Mythal's crime was what took the war with the Titans in a new, darker direction. It was what would set off the chain of events that would change the very nature of the world—and it was foreshadowed, back in Inquisition, by Cole.

The Titans—the Earth—fought back.

"They made bodies from the earth, and the earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget." — Cole dialogue.

In this post, I theorized that it was Solas' creation itself that caused the first Titan to "go red." That is to say, to change its nature and fight back. I used codices from Trespasser and Solasan to get there, as well as one paragraph from World of Thedas and this codex on Fen'Harel that describe the Forgotten Ones as "beings of terror, malice, spite, and pestilence."

Thinking about those words, and specifically terror, I read the codex in the secret Deep Roads room in Trespasser with fresh perspective.

For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast.

Terror. The first of the turned Titans. The fire/plant/ice imagery also caught my eye, and when I went back to Solasan to check, there were many hints that this was, indeed, where Terror came into being. (For more, go look at the most recently linked post in this section!)

Huge implications for Solas aside, what this codex taught me is that Titans' natures could change. This was confirmed in Veilguard many times over, yes—but my point here is that Inquisition taught this to me, just a few days before I gained the context of Veilguard. This was never a retcon! However, this lore plays exactly to BioWare's rules: we did not have the full context, and so almost no one read that Deep Roads codex as it was meant to be interpreted—including me, the first few times I read it!

It was only when I'd seen the achievement icons before Veilguard's release that it all clicked for me. All of the lore of Inquisition and everything before it made sense. That was never a bug, never a retcon, but a genius twist on BioWare's behalf: one that almost no one guessed at for an entire decade.

One that changes everything.

Titans, we know for certain now, behave as spirits. Obscure hints in World of Thedas, Inquisition, and the previous games have been confirmed in Veilguard. This new understanding changes not just the Titans, not just the dwarves, but reframes everything we know about the entire history of Thedas and how its magic system works.

______

Thank you for reading! It means a lot when people engage with these. And don't worry: I'm not nearly through with them. It's taken me a while to compile everything, but with more of Veilguard added to the wiki every day, it's a lot easier to compile things for these posts!

(Immense thanks to the wiki staff, of course. <3)

Up Next: Titans and Spirits are far more similar than we think, and it means everything.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Gone But Here All The Same｡⋆.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x plus size reader

Being a military wife could be quite lonesome especially being a military wife to a ghost but he knows exactly what you need to make you feel less alone

Warnings: smut, phone sex, masturbation (m&f), some reference to death and PTSD but not really, dom!Simon, sex toys, bit of voice kink, size kink

WC: 1.7k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

You knew what you were getting into when you married Simon. He was a member of the special forces who technically didn’t exist- you were used to the long months when he was shipped off, the anxiety that John Price would show up on your doorstep with a frown and a letter from the military, the anger and the fear that your husband carried on his chest every moment of the day.

You knew all of this and yet you still married him because he was the best thing to ever happen to you and besides that, he was the best lay you ever had.

Simon had ruined you for any other man (and toy) the moment that his thick fingers slipped between your soft thighs and into your panties under the bar table on your third date. He drove you insane with the smallest of touches, playing with your body with a finesse that only a seasoned soldier could.

You constantly ached for him, feeling so hollow without his thick cock stretching you to your absolute limit. Sure the reunion sex was absolutely mind-blowing every time he came home but with Simon leaving for sometimes months at a time, your need for any sort of pleasure drove you insane.

But luckily, he was going to call you today.

Simon called when he could, usually it was from a private number or some foreign phone, a different number every time. He had created a system with you, he would always call on the 13th of every month and if he missed it, he would call you on the 23rd. 

You sat on your shared bed, staring intently at your phone. The minutes ticked by at a snail's pace as the sun cast a warm orange glow over the large bedroom. You sighed when the clock hit 8, you doubted that he would call today.

A groan slipped from your lips as you rocked forward to slip from the bed, but just then the phone screen lit up, displaying a cute photo of you and Simon on your honeymoon as a random number rolled across the top. You snatched it up and quickly answered.

“Simon.” You breathed, relief flooding your body. His chuckle crackled through your phone’s speaker.

“Hello to you too bunny.” Your smile grew even wider if that was at all possible. He only ever called you bunny when he was in a good mood. You flopped back against the mountain of pillows propped against the headboard, keeping your phone as close as you could in lieu of your husband’s massive body.

“Are you coming home soon?” You tugged the collar of the shirt you were wearing up to your nose, inhaling the fading scent of his cologne.

He was silent for a moment. “No, not yet love.” ‘Love’, that’s what he called you when he was trying to let you down easy. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion but he quickly spoke again. “I do have a present for you bunny.” He purred, his voice dropping down an octave to that deep baritone that haunted your wet dreams.

“But nothing was delivered to the house?” 

“Oh bunny.” He said mockingly. “Your present is already in the house. How ‘bout you check my nightstand.” You practically dove over to his side of the bed in your excitement, Simon’s broken laughter following after you.

The drawer slid open and you gasped. Sitting on top of one of his many spare balaclavas and a book he was in the middle of reading was an enormous dildo. There was a suction cup on the bottom where the balls should have been and with a little bow sitting on the head, it made you laugh a little under your breath. “Got it?” 

Simon’s voice broke you out of your trance. You snatched up the toy and gasped at the weight of it. “Simon what is this?” You settled back into your original spot, your fingers flexing around the purple silicon almost unconsciously.

“I would think you know what it is considering how often you beg for it.” He said right as your middle finger brushed against an incredibly life-like vein towards the base of the fake cock, a vein you knew very well.

“Is this- is this your cock?” Molten heat pooled between your thighs as you held the toy even tighter, now realising that you were indeed holding a replica of your husband’s generous gift. Already you were using your free hand to pull your soaked panties down your legs.

“Damn right it is. You think I would let another cock near you?” He snarled, sending another wave of arousal right to your core. You moaned softly into the air as your fingers brushed against your aching clit, smearing your wetness over the sedative bundle of nerves. “Oh you like that don’t you.”

“Si.” His groan echoed through the room and you could faintly hear the sound of a zipper.

“Go on bunny, get that cunt nice and stretched for my cock.” You were dripping onto the comforter beneath you, desperately eager to follow each and every one of his orders. Excitement began to curl in your stomach as two of your fingers easily slipped into your cunt. It wasn’t nearly enough for you, your fingers weren’t as thick or as long as your husband’s but they were warming you up well enough.

“Can I put it in now?” You pleaded into your phone, needing your husband’s cock nestled inside you once more, even if it was only a replica. He let out a sniffled groan and you could just picture the way he was biting his lip to keep his voice down, his blue eyes squeezed shut as he gripped the base of his dick to stave off his end. He always got noisy when he was about to cum.

“I don’t think your little cunt can handle it.” He managed to get out through clenched teeth. You nodded frantically. “Words bunny.” He snarled, briefly jolting you from your haze.

“Yes Si, can handle you. Always do.” Your other hand practically flew between your thighs, the toy gripped so tightly you could feel the silicon give under the tension. The cold tip bumped against your hot skin as you notched it at your entrance. 

Your cunt burned as it finally breached you, dousing the ache in your belly. You whined with pain and Simon moaned. It was no secret that he loved the size difference between you both, he revealed in the way you cried when he fucked you, his massive cock stirring up your guts in the most deliciously painful way.

You could barely breathe as you reached the halfway mark. “So big.” Your back arched and you forced another inch inside you. A wet slapping came through your phone’s speakers along with Simon’s muffled breaths.

An image of him flashed behind your eyes- fully dressed in dark clothes but with his fly open and his thick cargo pants shuffled down his hips just enough for his cock to be free. The ridged lines of his skull mask would hide the way his lips twitched as he got lost in the feel of his gloved fist around his aching length. 

You cried out as you finally reached the hilt of the dildo, finally you were full of him once more. “Simon, you feel so good.” You pulled the toy out only a few centimetres before pushing it back in and sending a shockwave of pleasure through you. 

“Fuck bunny, keep talking.” He ground out as the wet sounds on his end picked up the pace.

“I can feel you in my belly, so big. Stretching me out.” Your hand began to move faster. It wasn’t the same as when your husband fucked you, you couldn’t feel his weight keeping you picked to the mattress or the way his cock would throb and twitch within you but the sound of his voice right next to your ear was all the same. 

His groan resonated through your chest, lighting your nerves up with that familiar fire. “Take that fucking cock, bunny, be a good girl and fuck yourself on it. Let me hear you cum for me.” 

You thrashed on top of the bed, hips rolling down to meet your hand with each thrust. “Simon!” You clumsily strummed your clit with your other hand so wishing for the rough fingertips of your husband instead. “‘M close.” You mewled.

“Cum.” The connection crackled with the depth of his voice but the effect was still the same. Your body seized suddenly as your jaw dropped in a silent scream. Pleasure rippled through you like a tidal wave, both easing and fuelling your lust. 

As soon as your breath returned to your lungs, you chanted his name over and over again as you rode out your high. “That’s it, good bunny.” Simon cooed, his breath hitching as he thrust into his fist with an added fervour. You were delirious with ecstasy, the toy inside of you now only keeping you full while your orgasm began to fade.

“Simon. Need your cum.” You begged softly into the phone. “Please Simon. Need it so bad.” He gasped and then moaned deep in his chest. 

“Shit.” He said breathlessly after a moment. “Shoulda brought a towel with me.” He grumbled and you laughed.

As gently as you could, you eased the dildo from your cunt. You winced at the stretch, now feeling sore and satisfied for the first time in two months. “How much longer do you have left on the call?” There was a grunt and then the sound of a zipper.

“Not long.” You sighed and relaxed back into the pillows. Simon always got quiet after sex, his pillow talk was practically non-existent.

“I love you.” There was a beat and then.

“Go take a shower and have a snack. Don’t forget water.” He never said it back but you felt it all the same. “I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

There was muffled shouting in the background and he sighed. “Stay safe out there. Don’t worry about me.” Your fingers curled around your phone and tucked it closer to your body.

“Always do bunny.” He replied simply. “Always do.” 

You held onto the device long after he finally hung up. It was hard being Simon’s wife but it was also the easiest thing in the world because you knew that he would always be right there, even when he was thousands of miles away.

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[rollofleaf]

Owlcatober Day 2: Fake Names

Day 2, give it up for day 2! A short bit with Hilde, originally this was going to be part of the Dance of Masks fic and it does still lead into that. I am working on that, just not while I'm doing these monthly challenges.

Queen Galfrey chose to stay behind while the rest went to the festival. Hilde had to order Anevia and Irabeth along; the two tried to refuse the respite they desperately needed. The trip to Kenabres took two uneventful days, and two nights that Arueshalae spent curled up tight in the arms of her Hilde. The camp was too intimate for them to be comfortable with sex, especially when Arueshalae knew she wouldn’t be able to keep quiet. She didn’t mind, cuddling inside a warm sleeping bag pressed against Hilde’s flushed skin brought her all the bliss she could ever want. Aivu joined them, sleeping with her head on their bag like an enormous puppy and very happy to be traveling outside of Drezen.

Arueshalae awoke on the third morning to find herself alone. A brief pang of loneliness hit her, swiftly dimmed by the sound of Hilde’s voice outside. Nenio’s followed, a collected, “How about that? Do you approve?”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Nenio!” Hilde’s voice rang out again, just outside the tent. Arueshalae slipped on a vest and some pants and poked her head out. Nenio was sitting next to a woman who was looking at herself in the mirror. The woman’s form shimmered for a brief instant as she looked at Arueshalae and grinned. “Oh, Arueshalae, good morning!” She had Hilde’s voice, but her skin was lighter, her eyes were a deep brown, and her hair was a vibrant platinum blonde. The illusion wrapped around Hilde didn’t hide her freckles or the scar over her nose, though.

Arueshalae looked at her with some confusion. “O-oh! Good morning. Um, why do you look like a human? A very lovely human,” she couldn’t help but add.

Hilde shrugged and looked back. “I think I’m going to go to the festival like this. If it’s really in my honor, then showing up as myself will just be… I won’t get a moment alone. I won’t get to enjoy it as myself, I’ll just be a symbol swarmed by people. I miss being a normal person, not the Knight Commander.”

Arueshalae squatted down next to Hilde and Nenio, a pensive look coming over her face. “Maybe I should do that too…” She looked down at her own tail as it twitched and curled gently around Hilde’s wrist. “I’ve changed, but… Most people probably won’t see that. They’ll still just see the monster. Oh, but disguising myself feels too much like deception!”

Nenio briefly glanced up, then went back to studying the ring she was imbuing with the illusion. “I’m not implying you haven’t redeemed yourself, but I might caution against a disguise. Statistically, you are far more likely to suffer violence if someone sees through your illusion than Hilde is. Far, far more likely.”

“That’s… True. M-maybe I just shouldn’t go. I wouldn’t want to cause a scene or scare people or-“ Arueshalae paused as Hilde tapped her tail twice. Their little code that Arueshalae was getting in her head and starting to spiral. Hilde’s signal for her to stop, breathe, and clear her head. She did as she was asked, closing her eyes and sucking in a few breaths through her teeth. “S-sorry. No, I… I should go as myself. My true, honest self, shown to the world.” 

She let out a squeak as Hilde planted a kiss on her cheek. “There’s my brave Arueshalae… As for me… I think I’ll be going as, um, shit, help me think of a fake name.”

Arueshalae tilted her head. “Um… Why? Oh, I suppose you’d be recognized by your name. Hilda, maybe? No, that’s too obvious. Edlih! It’s Hilde backwards! Also too obvious?”

Nenio chimed in, “And it doesn’t sound like a normal name. Perhaps, was there a name you were almost given as a child?”

Hilde sighed. “Yes, but those were all boy’s names. Oh! Nenio, could you make the illusion look a bit more Varisian? I’ll be Esmerelda today!”

“Esmerelda… That name sounds familiar.” Arueshalae sat down, wracking her brain for any mention Hilde had made of such a person.

Hilde answered quickly with a grin. “Esmerelda was the woman that let me travel with her caravan when I left home. She was kind of like my mom for a few years… No doubt she’s gone now, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind me borrowing her identity a little! So there’s a name that has some meaning to me.”

[devildomdoofus]

Lemon Dreams: Part 1

[NSFW]

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan

a bit of spicey lil dreams the brothers have of MC. If requested, I’ll add the undateables (minus Luke) into a Part 3.

Gender-Neutral as always.

MINORS:

DO NOT INTERACT

DO NOT PROCEED

Be smart, have common sense.

I’m not responsible for your irresponsibility.

You see the warnings. I put them out plainly. Adhere.

‼️WARNINGS‼️

NSFW, mature theme, mature content, implied intercourse, nudity, swearing, light bondage, BDSM, tidbit of pet play, wet dreams,

IF I MISSED ANY, PLEASE INFORM ME

Author’s Note (Sorry, I’ll try to be brief):

Trying my hand at some “light” N S F W content to see how I do and see how it goes.

Thank you all, once again, for the love and support and positive responses!! You’re enjoyment is the reason I keep doing what I love to do✨ Please: stay healthy, stay safe, stay you, and stay ruling them all, MCs 💕

- DevildomDoofus

💙Lucifer:

Regrettably, it has been nearly a millennia since he’s had any amount of a decent shuteye due to his brothers’ antics, his oversight of R.A.D., and obligations to Diavolo so you can only imagine the amount of fatigue that he felt in his mind, body, and soul. But because of his image and his own personal desire to be nothing short of perfect, he couldn’t simply rest whenever or wherever he pleased. It was outlandish to even consider the idea. Unfortunately, the side effects of denying himself any form of rest were starting to show. It was causing him to make mistakes he wouldn’t normally make and Diavolo had to personally intervene, using his authority on behalf of his dear friend’s health or lack thereof and demanded that he take a day off. He was the only one in all of the realms that could try and convince this workaholic to put on the breaks. You, yourself, have tried before but Lucifer was as stubborn as the days of summer were long and you felt like you were talking to a brick wall. But because Lucifer could not deny his prince’s demands, he reluctantly obliged... but not without absolute confirmation that nothing would go wrong while he was absent and as soon as he felt rested enough, he would return immediately.

Locking himself away in his room while putting a soundproof spell on the outside of it, he finally sits down at his desk and leans back in his chair as he sluggishly closes his eyes. The silence was both mildly relaxing and extremely uncomfortable as it was so rare for the world around him to be so... quiet. so undisturbed. So peaceful.

It was a bit unnerving.

He sighs deeply. This whole resting thing was going to be a lot more difficult than he originally thought. He stands up to go grab a vinyl record, places it on the antique gramophone and turns the device on. The orchestra makes their way through the metal funnel and the melody of the instruments echo beautifully throughout his room. “Much better,” he hums to himself. He tosses his coat aside, unbuttons his vest and drops it to the floor, removes his button-up shirt, kicks off his shoes, and does away with his belt while his pants follow suit. He dons his nighttime robe and finally slides into his bed. As soon as he hits the mattress, his eyes shut and his mind turns off, allowing him to drift swiftly into a deep slumber.

The dream started out like any other dream he’s had in his life; it’s mundane and not much is going on. It’s practically the same as ‘bringing work home with him’ but in his dreams. He’s at his desk, crossing his t’s, dotting his i’s, finalizing some paperwork, and the like, while the stress from his waking hours begins to find its way back to him like a boomerang.

Then, as if by magic, all of his stress melted away as soon as he heard a knock on his door along with your voice calling for him softly on the other side. He smirks. “You may enter.” He kept his head low as you stepped in due to the fact that he was finishing signing a particular paper. “Just a moment,” he instructs, as the last cursive letter finds its place on the paper. He begins to lift his eyes to meet yours. “Now, what can I do for yo-...” He freezes.

There you were, standing before him, in nothing but one of his ties hanging loosely around your neck. His jaw clenches and his fist tighten into a ball so firmly that his knuckles turn white under his gloves.

‘Like a lamb to it’s slaughter,’ he quotes, internally.

Needless to say, the dream takes a more DRASTIC turn and he’s got you bent over the desk, hands tied up with his tie that you so graciously considered to bring with you, and his name pouring out of your lips like a faucet. He’s taking you all for himself, piece by divine piece, with every snap of his hips, bite of your skin, and claw of your flesh. What a sight you were beneath him.

The moment he wakes, his body is covered in a ‘morning’s dew’ of sweat and the sheets of his bed have become painfully heavy on his lower half. His heart is still thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes are darting everywhere in his room, ensuring that he’s alone and no one can see him in such a disheveled state. He uses part of his robe to dab away the sweat from his brow and then rubs his eyes as he collects himself.

Spends the next many few hours calming himself down and hoping that he is blessed by some unholy miracle where NOBODY walks in...

especially you...

with nothing but his tie hanging loosely around your neck and-...

Ah shit.

The following morning at breakfast, he is eyeing you rather heavily from across the table and his brothers take notice but never dare to say a word. They just assume that you’ve done something to piss him off again and want no part of it.

They are not entirely wrong, though. You had unknowingly irked him quite a bit.

You entered his dreams without permission, made such a delectable spectacle of yourself in front of him, and caused him to feel things that no other demon, angel, human, nor any other soul for that matter, has been able to make him feel. And now he has to deal with these explicit thoughts and feelings, especially when you’re around or in his vicinity, along with many other things that demand his attention and it’s all just so irritating. Delightfully irritating. The kind of irritating he secretly enjoys.

The next few days, you never really get the sense that anything is off with Lucifer for how well he carries himself, no matter his circumstances, and yet... he seems to be less physical with you. Normally, he would give you the occasional hand on the shoulder or upper back when you needed guidance, allow you to lean on his shoulder when your days had been particularly rough and you needed to rest, or pinch your cheek when he teased you but lately... he wouldn’t even keep eye contact with you for very long without turning away and- was that a hint of pink in his cheeks? No, surely you are imagining things. Lucifer, blushing? Has the devildom froze over?

💛Mammon:

This poor, sweet and a little bit sleazy man was just SO exhausted from having to get up early that morning when he’d normally sleep in, to go to a school he doesn’t ever really pay attention to, as well as constantly keep lower demons from getting anywhere near his precious MC, bribe Levi to do his homework in exchange for an exclusive Ruri-Chan figurine (which he went into further debt to obtain), keep his overbearing fanbase from his modeling jobs happy on social media... it all was simply too much for The Great Mammon to be doing when he could alternatively be doing something better. Like being lazy sleeping off this R.A.D lag.

He had skipped his last few remaining classes and told you he was headed to your room to crash before school let out and you two could hang out later. He plopped onto your bed, nuzzled his face into one of your pillows, and fell asleep shortly after to your sweet aroma surrounding him.

His dream began as they typically do, with him gambling his Grimm for higher payouts or watching the Devildom stock market fluctuate in his favor... or more often times than he’ll ever admit, it’s just the two of you spending some quality time together alone for a change.

Only this time, his dream didn’t end up the way it typically did.

In his dream, he was sitting next to you on the sofa with his arm resting behind your head wanting to wrap it around you so fucking badly and watching whatever you had put on when it was interrupted by the winning lottery ticket read out. He leapt from couch with a big yell and the winning ticket in hand, and rushed to hug the tv and to kiss the demon inside of it, thanking him, Lady Luck, and anyone else involved in his incredible fortune today. As he turned around to come squeeze you tight with excitement and have you share in his celebration, his whole body tensed and he stopped in his tracks. He had become a deer in the headlights.

You were now lewdly postured on the couch, bare and exposed, excluding how you were practically dripping in gold jewelry/accessories whilst surrounded by enormous piles of Grimm. With one finger, you beckoned him over.

To say that this is one of his all time favorite fantasies would be THE understatement of the millennia.

He was in front then over you in a matter of milliseconds, his demon form taking over his body and stealing noises from you that the entire House of Lamentation- no- the entire Devildom could hear and FUCK he loved that thought almost as much as he adored you he cared about you; the thought that the entire Devildom could hear that you were his and his alone, that no other soul could make you feel like this.

And just as it was about to get really good, he wakes up.

Red faced, breathing heavily, and a thick coat of sweat all over his body. Not to mention the newfound, painful tightness in his pants.

He’s jerking his head around the room to confirm hoping to deny that is was all simply a dream, and to be certain that you hadn’t come back from school early or something and found him like this.

“Unholy shit.” He wipes the sweat from his face and then takes his phone in his hand to check the time. “UNHOLY SHIT!!” You had texted that you were on your way back home 10 minutes ago! He had to be quick.

He replaced the sweaty sheets and pillow cases with new ones, adjusting them so that it looked as it had before he slept on them, tied his school uniform coat around his waist to disguise the ‘friendly neighborhood bachelor,’ and darted like a bat out of devildom to his room, avoiding major hallways and doors to ensure that no one could stop him or chase him down and see him in his predicament.

You can be sure that for the next few weeks, he’s avoiding you like the plague. He sends texts that he is “paying off a debt and can’t make it,” or “Sorry MC, I’m a little tied up at the moment. This Grimm won’t make itself.” and to you it was a little odd, but nothing he hasn’t exactly done before, so you go about your days as normal. Poor Mammon has once spent an entirety of four months working a few jobs to pay off one big loan.

If only you knew how often he was reliving that dream in his head, over and over and over again. For such a thing to become reality? Well... he feels he’d have better luck winning the lottery. But just as he gambled, he wouldn’t give up so easily.

🧡Leviathan:

It is not uncommon for Leviathan to have certain dreams about certain individuals he enjoys, be it anime characters, video game characters, idols that he fawns over, etc. It’s normal. Quite often, in fact, but he would rather LITERALLY DIE before he ever admits to such a thing, much less have anyone think he has a crush. With his brothers as they are known to be, he’d never live it down. Which is one of the reasons why he keeps himself locked away in his room and goes on binges of whatever it is he’s invested in at the time. He’s left alone to do and be as much of himself as he pleases without judgment. It is one particular episode of an anime he had been bingeing for several hours that has him with his head resting upon his keyboard and ever so slightly snoring away as the characters converse in the background. It wasn’t boring in the least, it’s just that his eyes refused to stay open any longer and his body decided for him that it was about time for a proper nap.

His dream began as normal, with him on a quest to save the renowned, royal heir from the ten-headed beast that guarded the tower in which they were kept. The journey to the tower was extensive and not without its obstacles, the battle was epic, in every sense of the word, and the reward for it’s heads would match the gratification of the victory that ensued it.

Little did he know that in that tower, it wasn’t just any royal heir lying in wait for their prince to come, as they had always been. It was you.

You, in all of your glory, draped across the bed and adorned with the finest of cloths that were barely covering your most intimate of skins.

As he entered your bedroom chambers, expecting to find a fictional character he adored in his waking hours, he stops dead in his tracks and his entire body turns red hot in matter of seconds. You could easily hear the thumping of his heart throwing heavy blows at his ribcage, and, if you looked close enough, you could see the steam trickling out of his ears. You could also hear the clinking of his amor, the metal plates shaking against one another as he trembles before you.

Leviathan.exe has stopped working.

Yes, he’s had plenty of dreams like this before but.. fuck.. they were never of you. Much less like this. Believe him, he’s tried on many occasions to at least see your face or hear your voice, ANYTHING. But inevitably, his anxiety and shyness won in the end and you never came passing through his dreams... until now.

You leant against one arm, your lips curling into a smile, and then beckoned him silently with one crook of a finger.

Anxiety and shyness who?

He quickly does away with the heavy armor, tossing them aside, and crawls across the bed to you, to your face, to those precious lips.

He takes a hold of them in his own and seemingly devours you as he strips you of what little cloth covered you and then pushes you back down against the bed. The dream continues with your bodies intertwining in every way that earned him the lewdest of noises from you.

Until he jerks awake with his face a deep shade of crimson, body covered from head to toe in a mist of sweat, and a heartbeat that could put a drum solo to shame. He quickly scans his surroundings as he’s coming back to reality, making sure he’s the only one within a mile’s radius. If anyone thought he was a hermit now, you can only imagine what it would be like if he was caught looking the way that he did. The anime that he had fallen asleep to was now on a screen that was asking for confirmation if he was still watching. He presses the power button on his computer and wipes away the sweat on his brow before leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to the ceiling as he’s recollecting the dream. He sees the faces you were making in pleasure pass through his mind once more and it makes his face turn 30 shades redder and increases the painful tightness in his snug sweatpants. He shakes his head, no longer wanting to continue digging this grave of overwhelming lust, and plants his head back onto the keyboard. Lord Diavolo, please, just kill him now.

The following months, Leviathan stays locked away in his room and avoids you as if you were the final boss of a game he never wants to stop playing. He knew that if he saw you, got near you, or even heard your name being mentioned, there would be no way of stopping his thoughts, his body’s reactions to those thoughts, nor his brother’s comments about how he’s “acting awfully strangely.”

As much as he wishes that he never had the dream in the first place because of all of the trouble it’s causing, he can’t help but relive it over and over again, putting it on repeat in his mind. But to admit to you these powerful feelings and attempt to bring it to reality? Only normies do such a thing... right?

💚Satan:

Line after line, chapter after chapter, book after book, he simply could not put the new series he had discovered down. He was so invested, he’d finish one book and immediately pick up the next. His mind was reeling far too fast for him to stop now and nothing in all of the three realms could do so. That is until his own body waved it’s white flag and begged for him to shut his eyes, even if for just moment. Satan bargained, internally, that he’d allow himself roughly thirty minutes of rest before he’d pick back up where he left off. He sets the book on a nearby desk, settles down onto his loveseat and closes his eyes.

As a man of many talents and faces, his dreams were known to be as heavily diverse as he was, and often times reflected whatever book he had been reading, philosophy he had been pondering, or stress he had been managing. No one particular type of dream frequented more than another.

That being said, in the past few weeks, you had been a bit more physical with him. Whether it was a simple brush of the hands as you two reached for the same novel, late night study sessions ending up in late night study and cuddling sessions, or the occasional linking of arms as the pair of you walked the length of a museum and studied its inhabitants. It goes without saying that you were making an impression on him and his mind, leaving little to no room for any other thoughts than the ones involving you. Naturally, you had found your way into his dreamworld and you were the one constant in the ever changing slumber visions.

The dreams that you were involved in, which were now a majority of them, were mostly sweet; the most intimate being the one time you had placed a chaste kiss upon his cheek. If you were to ask him about these dreams that had him chipper than usual, he would smile and tell you that “they were simply pleasant hallucinations but nothing more.” And he’d be lying through his teeth, desperately trying to keep his cheeks from reddening in front of you. If you were lucky enough that his gaze lingered, you’d catch the tint of pink making its way across his face. The poor inner romantic in him couldn’t help himself. He’s mastered the art of poker face in its entirety, but when it came to you, his willpower and calm demeanor waned into nothingness and he was like putty in your hands. Just don’t push it or there will be Devildom to pay.

This particular time around, though, his dream would take a more unforeseen turn.

In his dream, he had invited you to join him on an outing over to the Royal Library and you two were now making your way to your favorite lone table in the farthest back corner, hidden behind the many shelves of books. After claiming your usual spot, he went to gather the books he wanted to go through and planted himself in the chair to finally open them up and get started. Meanwhile, you had wandered off, presumably, to find and create your very own mountain of novels to conquer.

An hour or so passed and he had made his way through five of his books when he felt a tap against the cover of the one he was currently reading. “Forgive me, MC, but I’m almost done with this paragraph and I need just one more moment to do so.” Another tap against the cover. “May it wait, MC? I’m nearly finished.” This time, you gingerly grabbed the tip of his book and tilted it away from him (a pet peeve of his). Just as he was about to give you his trademark glare of warning, his eyes widen and his jaw clenches, with his fingers letting go of the book and tightening into a fist taut enough to turn his knuckles white.

There you stood before him in little to no clothing, fluffy little cat ears and a tail to match, with a leash and collar adorning your precious neck. You took his stiffened hand, ever so slowly opened it up, and delicately placed the end of the lead into his palm, flashing him your cheekiest grin.

Now you’ve gone and done it. He snaps.

He jerks the end of the lead so that you’re aggressively pulled forward, bending over the table and sending the piles of books to the floor with audible thuds, and your lips crash into his. He uses his free hand to trap cradle the other side of your face as he devours your lips, devours your taste. Impatient and hungry, he soon lets you go with a low growl before standing up and dragging you behind him, forcefully, by the lead, coming to the front of a shelf that leant against a wall and grabbed your waist, lifting you up to push you against it, having more books tumble to the floor with a sound thud, while once again, taking your lips with his. Something about the way you looked, the way you sounded because of his actions, drove him completely mad.

Before it could go any further, he jerks wakes to the sound of someone knocking on his door. He quickly scans his surroundings and when he finds it empty, he breathes a heavy sigh of relief. The knocks continue and from beyond the door, a familiar voice requests his audience. “Satan? It’s Solomon. My apologies, but I just wanted to return a borrowed book.”

He reaches for a nearby cloth and dabs away the sweat that covered his face. He steadies his breathing and in the stablest voice he could muster, he answers back, “Alright. One moment please.”

“Take your time,” the sorcerer replies.

He gathers himself quickly, as the master of his own emotions does, hoisted up from the loveseat, straightens himself out and starts to head for the door but with a quick glance downwards, he pauses. There’s no way he could greet Solomon with such a visible... display...

He takes his coat from the coatrack, wraps it around his waist and finally opens the door with a welcoming smile.

“Thank you kindly for the recommendation. It was a pleasant read,” Solomon tittered in recollection then immediately shifted into a frown of concern. “Satan... are you alright? Forgive my intrusion, but you seem a bit disheveled.” The disheveled man in question nods, chuckling in hopes of deterring Solomon from pressing any further by lightening his aura. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for your concern. I simply had a bit of a nightmare.” Solomon raised a brow and Satan continued in his tall tale. “It had been so long since I’ve had one, so I’m sure you can imagine how unnerving it’s effects had on me.” Moments passed like molasses as Solomon pondered what Satan had said and the uncomfortable silence was wearing down on Satan’s last minute, makeshift composure. “Thank you for returning the book,” Satan’s voice firmly interjecting the fellow wise man’s thoughts as he received the book from his hands, “and I’m delighted that you enjoyed yourself.” He holds the book in front of where the coat covered his waist. “If you wish for more recommendations, I’ll be happy to share them with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some tea to drink and a book to read to calm my nerves. Good day, Solomon.” Before Solomon could get a final word in, Satan slips back into his room and shuts the door. For good measure, he locks it and turns the deadbolt. He shuffles back over to the loveseat where it all began and dropped down, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a heavy sigh. The blush that wanted so desperately to creep it’s way into his complexion the moment he’d awoken was now set free and his entire face turned red. He knew how to keep a tight grip on every other emotion he’s ever had... but love? Lust? This was going to be a challenge.

Outside of the door, not having moved an inch, Solomon stood with his chin snug between the crook of his forefinger and thumb. “Can demons have nightmares...?” He audibly contemplated as he waited a moment, following his train of thought before asking himself aloud again, “If so... then why did Satan have an erection?”

A pair of delicate hands found their way to Solomon’s shoulders and he glanced over them to see Asmodeus leaning in close to his ear. “It’s called a kink, darling.” Solomon politely shoos away the embodiment of lust with a gentle wave of his hand before starting down the hall from which he came, with the demon practically skipping in tow. “Kinks, we both know, I’m aware of. I had just assumed that his.. situation.. would be more relative to Belphegor.”

“Well,” Asmodeus chirped, “that’s what you get for assuming.”

[turtlee-rockin]

weee hiii i saw requests were open and i just wanna say I LOVE YOUR WRITINGGG and i was hoping maybe you could do a lumity fic with lee amity? maybe luz could notice amity had a crappy day at school and invites her over to the owl house to spend some time together reading good witch azura and decides to cheer her up with some tickles! <3

A/N: HOORAY my first ask!! Tysm to @twordyfluffytrash for sending this prompt in, I had a great time writing it.

Prompts are still open!

The Shades of Amity Blight (Lumity)

Ship: Lumity (lee Amity, ler Luz)

Words: 1100

Summary: see above!

_______________________________________________

Today was not Amity Blight’s day.

She was late to school because of Ed and Em, spilled food on herself during lunch, and to top it all off, she tripped over her own feet in the middle of the hallway, spilling her books everywhere.

In fact, the only positive thing that came about all day was Luz.

Luz, who had given her the notes she missed during their first class.

Luz, who came running with napkins clenched in her hand.

Luz, who didn’t hesitate to drop to her knees and offer a kind smile when others simply stepped over them.

And Luz, who had caught Amity by the arm after school.

“Hey Amity! Wanna come over and read some Azura? Eda is taking King out shopping after she brings us back, so the house’ll be empty. Except for Hooty, of course. I guess you’re never really alone when your house is alive.”

Amity’s heart leapt at the invitation. Usually after a day like this she couldn’t wait to get home, but spending time with Luz and their favorite book series sounded like exactly what she needed.

“I would love to.”

Amity smiled, but Luz noticed that her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

-

At the Owl House, the two sat huddled on the couch. Luz held the book for both of them to see, and Amity rested her head on Luz’s shoulder.

They read in comfortable silence for a while, but the human could tell that her friend was tense. She began to brainstorm ways to cheer her up.

“Hey Amity, can I read this next chapter out loud? I want to practice my voices.”

“Huh? Oh, sure, go ahead.” Not one to question Luz’s actions, Amity complied.

For the next couple of pages, Luz put on what can only be described as a performance. She created different voices for each of the characters, and tried to make them especially goofy.

However, when she didn’t get more than a small chuckle from Amity, Luz frowned.

Time for plan B.

“And so, the good witch Azura was forced to face her most dastardly opponent yet… theeeee” -Luz stretched out the syllable- “TICKLE MONSTER!!”

Amity sat up and looked at Luz. “Luz, that’s not what the book sa-“

She was cut off mid sentence by Luz tackling her onto her back.

As she settled on Amity’s thighs, Luz spoke. “Now Miss Amity, I couldn’t help but notice that you are in dire need of some cheering up.”

Amity’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink at the realization of Luz’s intentions.

Stage 1: blushing

“Luz it’s r-really okay, you don’t have to do anything! I’m fine! See?” Amity stretched her face out into an exaggerated smile as she babbled, possibly to hide the real one creeping its way onto her lips.

“I don’t believe you~” came the singsong response. With that, Luz shot her hands down, making the witch beneath her shriek, and started squeezing her sides.

“NOhohohooo!! Luhuhuz!” Amity grabbed Luz’s wrists, tugging at them, but she was weakened by the nonstop tickling. Her heels dug into the soft couch, not providing her much traction. She was effectively trapped.

“Ah, there’s that smile! I missed it, you know.” At Luz’s words, Amity felt her face heating up even more and let go of Luz’s wrists to cover it.

“Oh no, ‘Mity, don’t hide it from me now!” Luz momentarily stopped her tickling to pull Amity’s hands down from her face, which was now an entirely different color than when she had covered it.

Stage 2: rosy

Luz held Amity’s hands out and away from her face for a few seconds, before letting go and quickly darting her own hands underneath Amity’s outstretched arms.

They didn’t stay outstretched for long. Amity slammed them down, hugging herself. Her head was thrown back, eyes tightly shut with laughter.

“GEHEHT OUTTA THEHEHERE!” She all but screamed.

Luz laughed alongside her at the reaction she gave.

“I’m trying!” Luz said playfully, wiggling her fingers harder. “You’re trapping my fingers!”

“YOU’RE THEHE WORHOHORST!” Amity cackled.

Amity thrashed and kicked, all to no avail. After a minute or two, she was out of breath.

Luz smirked and removed her hands, deciding to give Amity a breather. From the looks of it, she was in need of one.

“Thahahat was sohoho meahehean,” Amity said, panting and giggling even though Luz was no longer tickling her.

“Maybe, but you know you love me~” Luz teased.

“Yeah, right,” Amity scoffed. It seemed that she had regained some of her sass.

Unfortunately, Luz was still sitting on top of her, and still looking for any reason to make her laugh more.

The brunette gasped in mock offense. “How dare you? You shall pay for your snark!”

“Wait! Luz, don’t! I’m sorehehe!” Luz was now lightly scribbling all over Amity’s neck and pointed ears.

Her ears.

Unfortunately, her ears were one of Amity’s worst spots, and Luz knew this all too well.

Speaking of ears, hers were now a bright red as well as her face.

Stage 3: scarlet

Instead of the heavy belly laughter she had been emitting earlier, squeaky, high pitched giggles now left Amity’s mouth.

“Ehehehe! Luhuhuz!”

“Hmm?”

“I- wahahaha!”

“What was that?”

“I’m gohohoing to wihihipe thahat smirk off ohof your fahahace!”

Luz raised her eyebrows. How Amity could be so feisty while giggling her head off, she would never understand.

What she did know was that Amity’s remark couldn’t go unpunished.

“Alright, that’s it!” Luz bent down, took a deep breath, and blew an enormous raspberry on Amity’s neck right beneath her ear.

At this, Amity’s laughter fell silent. She flailed so hard that Luz fell off of her sideways.

However, on her journey to the floor, she grabbed one of Amity’s arms and dragged her down with her.

*thunk*

Both girls landed and rolled, laughing all the while. They ended up lying on their sides facing each other, and it was a while before they stopped giggling.

“You know…” Luz’s dreaded smirk was back again.

“What now?”

“You never told me to stop.”

Stage 4: tomato

“Yes I- you know what- shut up!”

Poor Amity couldn’t even get a sentence out.

Luz giggled. “Are you at least feeling better?”

In all the goofiness, Amity had forgotten about her not-so-good day.

“Yeah, I am. Thank you, Luz.”

-

Later on, Eda and King came home to the sight of the pair asleep on the floor with content expressions on their faces.

Eda just sighed with a smile and gently placed a blanket over them.

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

➷Icarus

Pairings: Dabi/ Reader, Hawks/reader

Tags: pirate au, mermaid!reader, human!griffin!Hawks, pirate!dabi, angst, lots of it<3

Summary: set in an early 1700s au, during a time where Pirates have began taking over the seas and for runaway prince Touya, piracy is the only escape. But after the most unexpected event, his life takes a completely different turn.

Are y'all proud of me? Look at me! I made an edit, AN ACTUAL EDIT. okay quick thing to say before I hop into this is that I absolutely love this with all my heart. Writing it is my therapy, I hope anyone reading finds joy in this. Stay tuned for the next parts.

The first intake of air that enters your lungs feels like poison.

Sweet, mellow, nectar like poison is what you think of it nonetheless, especially if it's the only price you have to pay to bat your eyes to the aqua color of the sky. Today in particular the sun is too bright, too hot, to proud to shine over the little specs of clouds that dare litter that eternally beautiful azure canvas.

You can literally feel the river of tears that begs to stream down your eyes. Your hair is sticking to your skin annoyingly, but you don't dare brush it off, the little pools of seaweed that you've used to accessory yourself with are ghosting around you, spreading and straying away as you shift to your back.

As you lay on your back, letting the water push you to the surface, your ears are happily halfway submerged to the water, the tickling sensation soothing you just enough. Your (s/c) tail lays flat on the surface, halfway submerged much like the rest of your body. You bend it slightly to the side, flapping your tailfin onto the surface softly. Sprinkles of water splash over your torso, eager to finally find their way back into the water, like a fished out fish, racing in a match against time and the vaporising power of the burning sun.

Absurdly you float, feeling your body spinning and twirling as the tides swiped you from place to place. The dazzling sparkles of light that shine onto the water are magnetizing your gaze, pleading with you to fixated them with a look as the sun slowly travels its path to what seems as a few inches away from its previous spot, to you at least.

Your hand shoots up, right above your head, idling between you and your view of the enormous, bright star, as your long fingers spread you take a peak through the fishy fins that join them together. There's a deliberately feeling of malice and loath as you look at them -you've planted the seed of hatred towards the feature, not so long ago- and the slight undertones of your sheer and much illuminated skin looking fins stretch under your brain's command. You've never thought about it beforehand to this, but they hurt when you spread them, kind of like reminding you that there's a limit to what you're vulnerable or not.

At least the skin on his palm, the skin between his fingers isn't joined like yours.

Ironically, it gives you a sense of freedom.

You've only seen him on his ship. Once. But that doesn't stop you from having a painted image of him in the back of your head.

He's a timid buccaneer with a long ultramarine cloak, dreamy cerulean eyes, raven locks so unkept under the loops of his low ponytail and a barbaric lust to cause chaos. In other words, the Captain of a pirate ship.

That's all you need to know to be fascinated with him. You never heard his name, you never heard anyone speaking directly to him, all you had was a moment in which you exchanged looks, you with your pruned up fear of humans and him with big, bounty charged eagerness to spare you.

Maybe that was what had fascinated you about him in the first place. No other pirate had ever spared a mermaid with such light heartedness and a weird bubbly feeling in your chest had foamed its way into your heart ever since.

It's only when you feel you're disassociating out of this hybrid body that an all familiar trill filled your water muffled ears. That was your cue to swim to the shore.

With one deep breath of the surface air you submerged your form into the water, wobbling your tail around to cure any drizzling numbness that could occur were you to simply swim right on the spot. Your hands sway over your face and spread into half circular motions as you flap your fins and tail prominently, rising your body just under the surface.

You only open your eyes when you feel like your bird friend is close enough above the surface. And when you lock eyes with his golden orbs you notice the sly smirk that paints his whole face.

"Race you to the shore?"

Knowing full well that he can't hear your voice from the surface you nod sharply and only once, signaling your acceptance of his challenge. Ruby red wings flap hurriedly from his back, rustling the waters underneath him. You only grunt, because it's unacceptable that he believed he could throw you off track by doing the minimal damage to your surrounding environment.

Even for someone as fast as Keigo though, it's hard time mess up with the tides, even harder to compete with one if the most excellent swimmers, a merfolk.

Your tails flaps dangerously, torpeding your body forward and into a tube of salty bubbles as you swirl all around while swimming. Your eyes are fixated on Keigo, watching his every move as you shift through currents, the fins of your tail occasionally scraping over slack rocks ever so slightly. Your heart is pumping in your chest as you watch Keigo flap his wings again, you spare him a grin that mimicks his own and he raises an eye brow at you, extending an arm and taking his body just a foot more above the surface of the water.

His hand submerges into the water, startling you enough to make you widen your eyes at the sight of it. Little trails of his speed form in white foam behind his hand as he moves forward but you notice how the flat of his palm comes to scoop over the back of your head.

Like hell you're going to let him win this tim-

Your whole body is shaken suddenly as you are guided to the left, then to the right, your eyes squinting shut everytime your tail painfully bumps into the thin distances between the sharp, spike mounds of rocks you had failed to notice.

"Easy there, you don't have to rip your skull open to keep up with the fastest bird alive."

Keigo smiles at you and wiggles his eyebrow to your direction more than twice. It pokes your ego slightly. This playful comment nudges with your merfolk pride and the raptor seems to enjoy it, it seems like it's funny to him to mess with the way you swim when you can't exactly do the same for him up in the air.

And it's only when his hands wrap around you leisurely through the water, seemingly avoiding to actually touch you, but only interested in the intention to cage you that you pout and close your eyes, ready to flap your fins once more. That's the only advantage you need to outsmart him and out speed him.

Nevertheless, before you even manage to execute the first flap to your master plan, Keigo is quick to lock his hands around you, on you. He's even quicker to pull you over the surface.

"That's not fair!" You squeal.

"Isn't it?" The blond chuckles "I thought that you would like to come in tie with me for once"

"You're-"

"Insufferable?"

You laugh at him feverishly, as thin salty bubbles form in the pits of your chest. The soft exhale that travels out of your nostrils is a hot puff of air against Keigo's wet, naked chest, but instead of wincing to the tingling feeling, you feel the pleasant hum of a chuckle vibrate from his chest to yours.

"More or less"

It comes out as a soft coo, another huff of air against his chest though this time it's impossible not to feel how your skin feels against his. But that's just you, you remind yourself. From your point of view, you eye across his chest, careful not to let your face touch him, but your fins are beginning to betray you, perking up furiously.

Keigo seems to notice the way you shift against his grip, but he doesn't cease with his smile. It's only when he lowers you far away from his body though still keeping you in his grip that you see a fragment of his expression slip into what could be seen as sorrow.

"You merfolk could never convince me you're superior beings, you almost crushed against rocks" Keigo laughs.

Surprisingly, this time your chest doesn't feel heavy.

Instinctively you let your whole weight fall on his arms -what are you to a supernaturally strong griffin anyway. You hang your hands on both sides on your body, bobbing your fingertips right onto the surface, dipping them inches into the warm body of water.

"Sorry, your only obstacles seem to be puffy clouds huh?" Your sarcasm is lost in the grander scheme if the smoothness of your voice.

"You could never outrun me, let that sink in" He says, kidding with his head to the shore "where do I drop you?"

"Here's good, the sunset's nice from here" You reply "and yes, I can outrun you that's why I was so feverish about it."

The monotony in your statement is in contrast to its context and Keigo raises a brow at you, though it quickly drops as you manage to miss it. It's too eerie, too complex for his own good to pry into the feeling he's getting from your behavior, but if he were allowed to, he'd talk about how you don't seem to be your usual self.

With a swift flap of his wings he lowers himself into the water, his lungs filled with as oxygen as hes believed he needs from only a second ago. His hands come loose once the sheer liquid engulfs him; he feels how your fins tap against the feet, tickling him to the touch as the moisture softens them up again.

He wonders, if that's how soft his feathers feel to others.

His eyes don't open in the water, more likely because he's diving for the split of a second. It doesn't feel like a life time, just like any other time hes felt time pass by when diving, but he's putting that on you. He won't admit aloud, but his heartstrings pull slightly at the thought of you rooting yourself into him.

At least that's how he feels. And his smile widens when you pop your head out of the water you and shoot him a glare of your most glistening eyes with your lips pressed together in a thin line. He flies lower, with the intention of landing and flips his body so that his legs are facing the sand underneath him.

"Ah, today's nice." He sighs the moment he lies on his side, his elbow popping just in place for his hand to cup his face.

"It is, isn't it?"

Keigo smiles but a hollowing heat spreads to his chest, it's though as he can feel the bones underneath the layers of his own skin. It's his choice to ignore the feeling, rather, he coos a little over to your side, spreading a wing to your side. Red feathers splash happily into the water as they submerge, causing him to scrunch his nose pleasantly to the feeling.

"Keigo"

His feathers perk at the sound of his name, little, ruby feathers spike to his heart's commands. Tenderly your hand shoots to the sharp edge of his left wing, brushing down a few of the stray hawk downs.

He twitches to the touch; with legs that turn stiff as the slim looking black claws of his toes pop, his body shudders the peculiar affection. Keigo isn't used to being touched in the way merfolk get all tacky with each other. Griffin hybrids aren't as sleek and affectionate with their younglings, rather, being physical is discouraged.

"Mmhm?"

The way he coos against you like a little chick though, can't be discouraged by anyone other than you. As more feathers wrap around you, shielding your exposed scaly body from the scorching of the sun. The talons of his hands reach out to caress the hair above your ear, running some strands through his fingers.

You don't dare speak yet. There's a blasting of emotions that's happening inside your chest that your lungs can't respond to. It's only that, your face is so close to his, your nose almost in sync with his. But his eyes didn't look at you in a way that had once seeked.

Heavy chest and a quivering breath, even underwater. That's all the Keigo ever gave you. With his charms, and the perky feathers on his chest and hands that cooked everytime you were close. The pluming wings on his back that reaped the skies in a single flap; a creature worth of a mermaid's love was either worthy or atrociously mischievous, wasn't that the old saying?

And there was a time where you had been in love with him. A time where you had thought that mating for life with the griffin would be the right for you. Many merfolk had swam the path before, many had contributed to the birth of those atrocious, deadly sirens as a species, but at a time, the thought of your own little siren with Keigo sounded like a fairytail.

And that was all it was. Keigo had his eyes on a fairy, then on a raven griffin from his friend's flock.

If Keigo knew of all the hot tears you'd shed first him in the past, would he have sought to mate with you?

Well now you didn't care.

You didn't care about the world of creatures ever since that day.

"Keigo-"

"Y/n-"

You speak simultaneously, almost letting out the hazardous intentions of your statements overlap each other. It only makes you want to giggle though, as much as Keigo seems to want to sit back and wait for you to speak, the sheer profanity that lays beneath what you're planning to ask is coiling the blood in your heart in the most endearing way.

"Can I go first?" You ask and Keigo nods into your eyes.

His golden orbs dont leave yours, not even for a second.

"Is walking hard?"

Keigo's first response is to cock an eyebrow at you. It seems like such a silly, innocent question to which he can't give a definite answer, still the little smile that creeps to the corner of your lips is convincing enough for him to think of one

"Huh?" He laughs as well but this time, his hand comes to rest leisurely over your cheek.

You share a look in silence. The pointy tips of his talons are merely touching your skin in small places, while he scratches tenderly around your skin. Your faces are only inches apart and although it should hurt that he's only a ghostly breath away, your heart stutters at the thought of you learning more about walking.

"I'd like to walk"

In your excited state, you miss the way Keigo snuggles his nose right next to yours, unbeknownst to you, you deny the way his lips beg to clash with yours.

"Keigoo, tell me!"

Keigo seems to sigh a little over his own breath. The little nibble on his heart is quick and gone before he gets the chance to even feel it, so he doesn't blame it on the lack of the contact he had sought for.

"It's like," He pinches his nose "I guess it's like standing but with motion, like when you grab into a rock and pull your body around it?"

"Do I grab on rocks?"

"No, you just stand on your feet. And move them like so."

"Interesting"

Keigo scratches the coarse hair on his chin, puckering his lips to the side of his face as he's trying to think. As if he's trying to out the pieces together.

"And is it hard to learn how to walk?"

"Well I'll tell you if you tell me why you're so interested in learning all these stuff!" His claw soughs slightly onto the sight of your face, forcing you to face him once again.

He's never seen you express concern about this particular subject. But as he guesses, most mermaids do from time to time.

Nonetheless, now is his chance to spurt out what he wishes to say, now that his nose is on yours again. Now that your lips as ghosting over his again, now that your palm reaches slowly for the harsh flex of his bicep.

"I-"

But once again he's cut off.

"It's for a friend. She saw this pirate the other day."

The words that slip so reluctantly off your mouth finally manage to peak Keigo's interest in what you're trying to say. The mere hesitation in your struggling voice is accompanied by the twirling of your tail around his legs. It's a struggle to get as comfortable as before, but Keigo gladly ignores anything that doesn't involve staring in your eyes.

"Tell your friend" Keigo pauses. His wings push you onto him further, trying to coo you in his consultations "a pirate isn't worth her tail."

"But why" You mutter against him.

An atrocious feeling in his gut spurs the moment you let the palm of your hand slip down and splash onto the water. The silent act of giving u accompanied by you hanging your head an inch lower, just so that your lips miss contact by what can only seen like a huge gap. To him.

"They're sick, and they're thieves and they murder creatures for bounty"

"They do?" You ask, terrified

"They tie them to their ships, they shoot them, anything to carry them back to their orm and sell them for money. Tokoyami barely escaped them."

"How will they know I'm a creature if I have legs"

Keigo sighs. The memory is enough to send chills down his spine and cause the feathers on his hands and feet to spurt absurd and proudly. Whoever this friend of yours is, they're out of their mind.

There have been merfolk who have rejected their nature throughout their centuries to nest with humans, only to grow sorrowful in their regrets that they chose to live such mundane, mortal lives. To want to be with a pirate, the worst of the worst, someone who could only die in a few years of being on a ship, was like disgracing the creature world.

Wait- he heard right didn't he?

"You?"

[gukyi]

good luck charm | kth

summary: kim taehyung has nearly everything he’s ever dreamed of: an apartment in new york city, a lead role in an off-broadway play, and a best friend to share it with. but even still, there’s one thing missing—love. and when he goes on the hunt for it, he dots every i and crosses every t, leaves no stone unturned, but forgets to look at the person who could ever love him the most: you.

{friends to lovers!au, roommates!au, actor!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x female reader genre: fluff, angst, unrequited love word count: 11k a/n: a huge thank you to MK for commissioning me for this piece–i hope it’s everything you dreamed of!!!! these are tough times, but i hope this can serve as a distraction to everyone!! please stay safe and wash your hands! if you’re interested in commissioning me, check out this post! also, if the pictures are unclear, click on them for higher resolution!

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.”

You see a tuft of purple hair sticking out behind a basket of orange pansies, two nimble hands with long fingers fiddling with the stems. 

“I bet you say that to everyone,” you tease, as Namjoon peers out from where he’s hiding behind a shelf of flowers, greeting you with the same warm grin he always wears. 

Namjoon pauses, gaze tilting upwards as he corrects himself, “my favorite customer who’s about to confess to her best friend of four years with a bouquet arranged by yours truly?”

You roll your eyes, thankful that there’s nobody else inside this little flower shop. Not that you seem to have an issue exposing your entire life story to certain strangers, especially if they’ve got dimples and colored hair to match. Namjoon has always been something of an exception—perhaps he is one of the closest friends you have here in the city, where everything moves so quickly you barely have time to say hello to a new acquaintance. Namjoon and his flower shop are a respite, a safe haven in a bustling world, where time always seems to move slower than it does outside. 

“Don’t remind me, I’m sweating just thinking about it,” you tell him, trying to cover your nervousness with a laugh. 

“Ah, well how could I forget, when you came to me to arrange the perfect bouquet for tonight?” Namjoon says. He chops a wilting flower from its stem and places it behind his ear. Even though it’s a little sadder, a little less lively than its comrades, the bright yellow of the primrose complements his hair nicely, making him look even more ethereal, magical, than he already does. 

“Who else would I ask besides the best bouquet-maker in town?” You ask as Namjoon leads you to the counter, where various bouquets have been laid out in vases, ready for pick-up. It’s a secret garden here, all green and fresh and calm, a sharp contrast to the industrial machine outside. 

Namjoon heads to the back, a room behind a little wooden door that’s the slightest bit too short for him, so he has to bend down to avoid hitting his head (he still hits his head rather frequently, though), as you breathe in the scents of the flowers surrounding you, the roses and the daisies and everything in between. It’s not much, but it does calm the thick beating of your heart ever so slightly, and that’s enough. 

He emerges a minute or so later, banging his head on the way out. In his hands is one of the biggest bouquets you’ve ever laid eyes on, thick with some flowers you recognize but more you don’t. It’s breathtaking and gorgeous and impressive, all at once. 

“Namjoon, you know that I didn’t ask for this many flowers,” you chide as he plops the bouquet down onto the counter, clicking away at the ancient cash register to his left. 

“Consider it a good luck gift,” Namjoon tells you with a wink. 

You sigh, pulling out your card to pay him. “I could use all of the luck I could get.” The likelihood of tonight going more right than wrong is miniscule. But what else can you do, besides try? “What do they all mean?”

“Well, the daffodils represent honesty and truth. The red carnations mean love, obviously. So do the chrysanthemums. The baby’s breath is just for decoration, but it also means everlasting love. The gardenias are for secret love. And the freesia is just because I thought it went well with the bouquet,” Namjoon says expertly, pointing to each one as he tells you what it means. “I don’t know if Taehyung’s super up with his flower meanings, but I think that even the gesture will say more than enough. But if he is, this is just a bonus.”

“I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?” You say, the nerves overtaking you. You were hoping to just act calm and collected, thank Namjoon for the bouquet and be on with your lives, but even you can’t help but seek advice from him. 

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “If you think it’s going to go so badly, why have you planned so much?” He poses. “It’s normal to be nervous about this sort of thing—what if I mess up, what if he doesn’t feel the same way, what if he rejects me—but I think that, deep down inside of you, there’s a part that thinks that it will all be worth it. And I don’t know, maybe I’m just a sucker for happy endings, but I think that that’s the most important. The part of you that doesn’t want to spend the rest of its life thinking about what might have been.” Namjoon’s phone lights up next to him, his lockscreen a picture of him and another boy, shorter, but with the same dyed hair. The two look so happy together. He gazes down at it, exhales, and shuts his phone off. “Just my two cents.”

“You’re wise beyond your years, Kim Namjoon,” you tell him with a smile. Maybe you are nervous about the what ifs, nervous that this whole thing could blow up in your face, but is it so naive of you to listen to that whisper in your heart? The one that says, maybe he feels the same? “I wish you’d take your own advice, sometimes.”

“It’s different,” Namjoon murmurs to himself. “He and I… this is all we’ll ever be.”

“You don’t know unless you try,” you tell him. You know the feeling. Perhaps, if tonight goes well, it will encourage him to give it a shot himself. “You never know.” Namjoon looks up at you, smile wide but eyes sad. There’s clearly something more that he isn’t mentioning, but you won’t push it. You get it. How could you not? “What if he does feel the same?”

The bell above the door rings on your way out, fingers clenching onto a bouquet, praying and wishing and dreaming that maybe this will all be worth it, in the end.

Something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

When you return to your apartment, Kim Taehyung is slouched on your dinky loveseat, arm deep inside a six-month-old box of Frosted Flakes, as an episode of Jeopardy! plays on his laptop, his eyes empty and glazed over as he stares at Alex Trebek, wordless.

You nearly jump in shock, terrified that he’ll spot you and the enormous bouquet in your hands, terrified that he’ll ask you about it, terrified that your entire plan for tonight will get flushed down the toilet the moment you and him lock eyes. But it doesn’t, because Kim Taehyung doesn’t even acknowledge you when you walk in, for better or for worse, and you manage to stash the bouquet into a vase in your bedroom before rounding on your roommate, because something is up with Kim Taehyung. 

Kim Taehyung hates Frosted Flakes. The only reason they’re in your apartment to begin with is because Jungkook had brought them over one time when he was visiting, and even then they were stale. Now they’re extra stale. So stale that they make a hollow sound on your countertop when you tap them against the laminate. 

Kim Taehyung normally shuffles through Jeopardy! like it’s nobody’s business. He gets at least a quarter, if not half of the questions correct, and always earns more points than you. But he doesn’t even open his mouth when Alex Trebek says, “This Renaissance artist left Florence to serve as principal engineer for the Duke of Milan’s army” and you know that he knows it’s Leonardo Da Vinci. 

Kim Taehyung normally has plenty to say, especially to Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip, who currently resides in your living room. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has been your honorary second roommate ever since the two of you moved into this apartment four months ago. Taehyung made him a little museum placard that is framed and hanging on the wall above him, and he has an account on every social media website under the sun. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip has more followers on Instagram than you do. But today, both he and Sawyer are silent and unmoving. 

“Tae?” You ask, treading over to the couch as he empties the box of Frosted Flakes into his stomach, finishing up the episode. “Is everything alright?”

“Mmrph,” he mumbles in response. You suppose that means he said fine, which means that no, everything is not alright. 

“What’s going on? You’re normally really excited the day of your shows,” you ask. At least he hasn’t entirely turned into a soulless hermit, and he moves his legs off of the couch so you can sit beside him. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Taehyung says, louder. “I don’t know. I feel like it’s going to go really badly, is that wrong?”

You smile softly, shaking your head as you reach a hand out, letting it rest in his lap before he takes your hand in his. “No, it’s not. Tonight’s a big deal, isn’t it? You must be under a lot of pressure to do well.”

“I’m just so worried that I’ll fuck it up and everyone will hate me forever,” Taehyung says, exasperated. It’s almost as if he’s tired with himself for being so negative. 

“You’re not gonna fuck it up and nobody is going to hate you. I’ll always love you, you know that,” you assure him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung says, but the worst part is that you’re not sure if he really does. 

“It’s okay to be nervous, and to worry. Tonight is really important. But you’re an incredible actor, and you’ve always been so good at what you do,” you tell him, thumb rubbing against the back of his hand softly. “I can’t tell you how proud I am of you.”

Taehyung lets his head rest on your own and the two of you sit together on the couch in silence, watching as the minutes on his laptop clock tick by. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and soft, firm underneath his chest. You wonder if he can hear yours. Hear how it’s picking up speed, hear how it beats only for him. 

“You always know what to say,” Taehyung tells you. “I wish I knew how to do that.”

You grin sadly to yourself, happy that the two of you are side by side so he doesn’t have to see your face. How could Taehyung tell you something like that? How could he, when every time you’re near him, you’re speechless?

You never really considered yourself to be a theater person when you were younger. You would fall asleep when you went to see plays with your parents or on a school field trip. You never made an effort to go see the performances that your school put on. You were one-hundred percent confident that you would go through all four years of university without seeing one of the fifteen different theater groups’ shows, not because you hated them, but because they never crossed your mind in the first place. 

And then, you met Kim Taehyung. 

You met Kim Taehyung halfway through your freshman year because the two of you were in the same Cinematography in the 1900’s class. And then, suddenly, you were eating the same shitty food in the dining hall after class ended at seven in the evening. And then, suddenly, you were studying together, spending nights watching Jeopardy! on his laptop when you didn’t feel like doing any work. And then, suddenly, Kim Taehyung mentioned in passing one day that he had a show that Friday, and would you like to come, it would really mean a lot to him, he thinks you’ll really like it. 

And then, suddenly, you were a theater person. 

That night was the first night Kim Taehyung had ever taken your breath away. And every performance, every night, every fucking moment after that, he never stopped.

Tonight is no exception. You can’t say that you’re super well-versed in theater fame and its technicalities, but you think that this may just be Taehyung’s best performance yet. Here, in this theater off of Sixth Avenue, to a crowd of two, perhaps three hundred people, Taehyung is nothing short of amazing. He never is. From the moment he steps on stage in a raggedy old flannel and jeans, eyes wide with dreams, he reels you in and makes sure that you won’t leave this theater, won’t leave here unscathed. But the fatal blow is halfway through, when he finally spots you in the third row, sees you staring up at him in wonder, and he smiles. 

There is so much that you wish you could tell him. 

After the show, you race back to your apartment, desperate to finish up the last of the preparations before he arrives, after taking off all of his makeup and his costumes, saying goodbye to all of his co-stars. Normally, you’d hang around, let him introduce you, but tonight is different. Special. 

[September 8th, 9:35PM]

You: Had to go home bc I’m planning a special something for the star of the night! Sorry I missed all of the fun afterwards You: Something very important to tell you

Taehyung: ohoho Taehyung: I wonder who that could be Taehyung: Coming soon. I have something to tell you too! ^^

You stare at the text as you grab the vase of flowers from your room, setting it up at your very unimpressive kitchen table. What could Taehyung possibly have to tell you? Other than perhaps a thanks for showing up (as if you weren’t going to). 

What if, that voice whispers. The part deep in your heart, the one that you wish would shut up sometimes. 

“No,” you say aloud, perhaps more for yourself than anyone else. “No. I have something to tell him. I have to tell him this.”

You never know, she says. He might. What are you waiting for?

You pull out all of the scented candles in the apartment, setting them up on the coffee table and on the windowsills. There’s a plate of macarons that you had purchased from the fancy bakery in Midtown sitting by the vase, a little treat for the two of you since your diets usually consist of premade Costco pasta and takeout. 

There is so much you want to tell him. So much to say, and no way to do it. It seems impossible. As the minutes tick by, as he gets closer and closer, you wonder if you even have the courage to open your mouth. It’s not as if this is life-changing news. It would be so easy, so easy to just pretend that this is nothing but a celebration of Taehyung’s very first major off-Broadway show, to push down the ache in your heart and tell that voice to stay quiet, if only for a little longer. You’ve lived like this for so long already. Who’s to say you can’t live like this forever?

Taehyung comes home as you’re flicking through late-night television show reruns and fiddling with a Rubix cube, anything to keep your mind occupied and your fingers busy. You hear as he fumbles with the lock—his key has always been a little bit off—and scramble to get everything ready, shutting your laptop and putting the Rubix cube on your designated Weird Stuff Shelf. The apartment smells like a hodgepodge of vanilla, flowers, cinnamon, and champagne, and the flowers are already starting to wilt slightly. But it’s now or never, really. 

Taehyung swings the door open with a grin and gasps in excitement when he sees you, standing in the hazy, flickering yellow light of the kitchen, surrounded by candles, with a plate of macarons and a vase of flowers on the table. 

“Oh my God!” He says, overjoyed, high off of the adrenaline from a successful show, eyes still sparking from the spotlight. “Y/N! What is all of this?”

“Just a little something from me to you,” you say awkwardly. You have no idea how to tell him. You’re not sure if you even will. “To celebrate.”

“Dare I say, this apartment has never looked better,” he tells you, beaming. He walks over to where you’re hovering by the kitchen table, knee deep in it all, admiring the sight before him. He leans over you, ever so slightly, as he takes in the scent of the flowers, the macarons sitting before him. And then he turns to you, the glow from the candles making his eyes warm and caramel-y, almost as if they’re shimmering in the light, and he says, “You did all of this for me?”

“Of course,” you tell him, because you would do this again and again if it means you could see him like this. If you could watch him burst through the front door for the rest of your goddamn life, watch as he comes home to you. “Tonight’s special.”

“It wouldn’t be without you,” he tells you honestly, candidly. He tells you that because he means it. You wish you could say the same things to him. “You’re my best friend, Y/N.”

It’s now or never. If he takes one step closer, turns to look at you one more time, you don’t know if you’ll still have the courage. You don’t know if you even have it right now, but tomorrow, when you wake up, you don’t want to regret this night. You don’t want to wonder what if, what might have been. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“I have something to tell you,” you breathe out, words heavy on your tongue. You can feel your heart seize up, almost like it’s holding its breath with you. 

“Right, you said that,” Taehyung says with a nod, stuffing a cherry macaron into his mouth. “I have something to tell you, too.”

“Do you want to go first?” You ask him. You just need a little more time. You just want to hear his voice once more. 

“Okay,” Taehyung says happily. “I got a girlfriend!” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well. 

Okay. 

“Really?” You ask, trying to make it sound more like a Really? That’s great! and not a Really? I thought that we had something special. You don’t think that you’re doing a very good job.

“Yeah!” Taehyung says. He’s ecstatic. It tears your heart in two. “I mean, I know I’m just… a super, hopeless romantic and I fall in love with people when they hold the door open for me, but I’m really happy with her. It’s Ariel, actually, she played Lucy! Isn’t it funny how even though our characters never even officially met, we still found something there?”

“Yeah,” you say, emotionless. Taehyung is far too excited, far too joyous to notice. 

“I just—I wanted to tell you, because you’re my best friend and you deserve to know,” he says, breaking off half of the raspberry macaron and holding it out to you. “What did you want to tell me? Did you say it was important?”

“Oh, uh…” you fumble, shaking your head at the macaron. Your stomach has never felt smaller. It’s like there’s nothing left to say to him. “I think I’m getting transferred to another office.” It’s not news. Your job told you that last week. But it’s something, and it’s better than being honest. Anything is, at this point. “They might pay a little more.”

“Yay!” Taehyung says. “That’s great! Now, maybe we can fix up the lights in the kitchen. So they don’t read horror movie every time I try to make pasta at 2AM. I’m happy for you, you deserve it!”

You smile, putting on a brave face, just for him. “Me too.” You can’t muster up the strength to say anything else. 

Taehyung spends the rest of the night gobbling down the macarons and telling you all about Ariel, as you try desperately to tune him out. Even the sound of your own thoughts would be better than this. Anything. Anything. Eventually, after it’s long past midnight and Taehyung realizes he’ll need his sleep for the show tomorrow night, he bids you goodbye and sets off to his room, a bounce in his step.

You stand in the middle of your apartment. Even though it’s small, and even though you have him, it’s never felt emptier.

Namjoon always says that flowers don’t just need food and water to stay happy. They need love, they need to be surrounded by happiness. He says that they can feel it, that they react to it. That’s why he always tries to be happy when he’s working. Because he hates seeing the flowers so sad. He says they remind him of himself.

It’s no wonder why the flowers in the vase look even more wilted than before.

Here’s the thing: You had pretty much always known that it was going to hurt like this. There had always been that part of you, deep down inside, that knew that there was no way it wasn’t going to hurt like this. That knew that there was nothing you could do to stop it from hurting like this. 

And still, foolishly so, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, telling him would make it stop. You gave into this fantasy that, even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he let you down easy, even if he told you that he just wanted to be friends, it would be better. 

That’s the worst part of it all, really. The fact that you never even told him. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t. You never told him, and now, somehow, everything is even worse than before. 

The flowers have long been thrown out by now, tossed out after hardly a week, unable to stand the tension in the air, the emptiness that lingered far beyond that night. Still, you remembered to keep one, plucking it from the vase before it died of secondary sadness. Because even if they hurt you, even if they tear at your heartstrings one by one, you’ve always had this terrible habit of never letting go of what you love. You pressed the flower with an old college textbook, placed it into a thin little vase, meant for one flower only. A red carnation, to remind you of what you could have had. What might have been. 

Kim Taehyung is significantly less worried this time around as he prepares for the opening night of his latest play. He wakes up early and does some yoga in the living room, pushing all of the furniture to the walls so he has enough space to Downward Dog in peace. He watches a couple episodes of Jeopardy! as he eats the Pad Thai he Doordashed to your apartment, and gets half of the questions correct. Even from your bedroom, you can hear him talking to Sawyer. 

“I’m excited for tonight, Sawyer,” he says to him. “I don’t know, last time I did Shakespeare was sophomore year in college, I think? I was Mercutio. It was fun and I got to use a sword. Y/N came to that show, too. I annoyed her so much that night that she told me that she was glad Tybalt killed me, but we had a good time anyway.”

Sawyer doesn’t say anything back, because he is a Suspicious Floor Dip in your living room. But it’s so lovely to hear Taehyung’s voice again. 

“Do you think that Y/N’s been acting weird, lately?” Taehyung asks. “I just feel like—I feel like she and I aren’t as close these days. She works in her room a lot more and some days I don’t see her at all. Which is crazy, because we live together. My ex always said it was a little weird how I lived with my best friend who is also a girl. But I don’t think it is. Do you think I did something wrong?”

No, you wish you could say, leaning against your thin bedroom door as you hear Taehyung wonder aloud. Never, in a million years. It was me, you want to tell him. I got my hopes up and now I’m paying the price. It’s not you. It’s never you. 

“Yeah, I guess she’s just busier these days,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “She did get transferred to that new office a couple of months ago. But she’s still my best friend. I’ll never stop telling her that—she deserves to know that no matter what, she always has me.”

“Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Therapist, huh?” You interrupt, finally getting the nerve to open your door. Taehyung’s on his way out, all dressed, backpack on his shoulder. He has to be at the theater a few hours before the show begins, anyway. 

“He’s just so easy to talk to,” Taehyung jokes. “Did you… uh… did you hear that?”

“The part about being your best friend?” You ask with an eyebrow raise, making Taehyung smile. You don’t mention the other things you heard. You don’t think that would make things better. 

(You’re not sure what will, at this point. Telling him is off the table. You distantly wonder if it was ever on the table to begin with.)

“Just making sure you knew,” Taehyung says with a grin. “Don’t want you forgetting about that.”

“How could I?” You muse, and it makes him smile something fierce and makes you wish that things were different. 

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Taehyung says. He must know the answer, already. 

“Of course I am,” you tell him. “Who do you take me for?”

“I’ll look for you in the crowd, okay?” Taehyung says, a hand on the doorknob as he gets ready to leave. “Keep an eye out for me. Promise?”

It’s always been so hard to say no to him. 

“Promise,” you tell him. 

That night, you sit a little further back, shadowed by the mezzanine above you, but Taehyung finds you anyway. As he schmoozes his way through the storyline on stage, he sends a wink your way, a couple of the girls in the row in front of you giggling to each other when he does. You sort of wish he was really winking at them. That way, it would hurt a little less. 

Afterwards, you linger around in the lobby, waiting for him like you always have, like you always do, like you always will. You don’t have anything special waiting for him back at your apartment. There’s nothing left to tell him. 

You spot his head of soft, wavy brown hair far before he spots you, can make it out in a sea of cast members as they cheer for themselves, celebrating another successful opening show. Your face lights up when you see him, when you see that he sees you. This is how it has always been. This is how it should be—you find each other in the crowd, grinning as you congratulate him, as he introduces you to his cast members and then invites you to the afterparty. You spend the night together, high off of the adrenaline and just a little tipsy, before stumbling back to your apartment, basking in the afterglow. 

You want nothing more than for things to go back to the way they were. 

And then, you see her. 

“Y/N!” Taehyung shouts excitedly, and it takes all of your strength to not let your face fall as she comes into view, hand interlaced with Taehyung’s. “I knew you’d be here!”

“How could I not be?” You say, letting Taehyung wrap you in a one-armed hug rather than two. “You know me.”

“This is my girlfriend,” Taehyung introduces proudly, motioning to the pretty girl beside him as she waves at you good-naturedly. “Madison, this is my roommate and college best friend, Y/N.”

“Taehyung talks about you non-stop,” Madison says with a smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you say, because what else are you supposed to say to the love of your life’s new girlfriend? How else can you salvage this conversation when you already see it going terribly? “You both were really good tonight. I’m happy that I came.”

“Me too!” Taehyung grins. “Did you see me wink at you? I promised you I would.”

You nod, eyes desperately scanning the rest of the room, the rest of the people, the floor, anything to keep from watching as Madison drapes herself over Taehyung, intertwines their hands as she leans against him, like she can’t get enough of him. 

“Hey, do you want to come to the afterparty? It’s at Alex’s house, apparently he has this brownstone in Brooklyn all to himself, I’ve heard it’s gorgeous—”

“No, actually, I have a lot of work that I need to catch up on,” you interrupt. You don’t think you’d last five minutes there, where the only person you know is Taehyung, where he’s got a girlfriend on his arm the entire time. You aren’t even sure how you’re faring now, if you’re even  breathing, standing before him and his equally-gorgeous new partner. 

You just wish everything could go back to normal.

Taehyung’s brows furrow, disappointed. “Oh, you do? But—”

“Yeah, I’m just—I’m really sorry, Tae, you know I want to. But I should get going. It was really nice meeting you, Madison, I hope we can see each other again sometime—” You spew out a few more goodbyes and even more apologies as you rush towards the exit, turning away so you don’t have to see Taehyung calling after you. 

On the way back, you bump into Namjoon, who’s closing up shop for the day. He looks positively exhausted, always working diligently from morning to far past sunset every day, but he smiles when he sees you, setting aside his tired eyes to say hello. 

“Hey, Y/N, fancy seeing you here,” he greets. “How are you? How’d it go?” He gives you a sort of grin that means that he thinks it went super well. 

“Not great,” you tell him truthfully, because it’s late and you don’t feel like hiding things anymore. 

“Oh,” Namjoon says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the way he thinks that none of the things he has to say will go down very well. You know the feeling. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him, even though it’s not. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Namjoon asks solemnly. 

You frown. “Do you really think we should both be having this conversation?” Namjoon has his own secrets, his dreams of a short boy with colored hair by his side. “You aren’t much better.”

“No, I’m not,” he muses to himself. “But it is a big deal, Y/N. Please don’t act like it isn’t. You love him, don’t you? Even if he doesn’t love you back.”

You love him. 

It’s not a secret anymore. 

You love him like the stars love the moon, surrounding her in their light, making sure she never gets lonely. You love him like an old Hollywood movie, film faded and worn, getting played once in a while to make sure you never forget where you started. You love him like a flower, carnations, daffodils, chrysanthemums, perking up when you’re around him and wilting when you’re not. 

“It doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh. Certainly, there are more important things to dwell on. You’re looking for a new job because being an office temp isn’t exactly what you were envisioning for your life. You want to start fixing up the bathroom, because the grout by the shower is starting to disintegrate. Sawyer the Suspicious Floor Dip is a fire hazard. “I’m okay with just being friends.”

Namjoon smiles, and it’s so sad, but not with pity. It’s sad with I know, and sad with feeling, because he gets it, and that must be why you’re here, standing on the sidewalk at ten on a Friday night, underneath the street lamps as the city begins to open its eyes. “But when you have him the way you do, how can you be okay with any of it?”

Taehyung comes home late that night, and you only know because you’re running to the bathroom at the same time he fumbles with the door. He takes longer than usual, which means he’s drunk, and you can only hope and pray that he’s alone. You watch as he finally manages to unlock the door, stumbling inside, managing to turn on the main overhead lights in your apartment as he does. From where you’re peering at him from the darkness of the hallway, you can make out dark red, purple spots all along his skin. 

You pull the bathroom door almost shut, leaving it a little ajar so you can gaze out at him, watch as he pours himself a glass of water and downs the entire thing before he makes his way to the hallway, heading for his bedroom. From here, you see the way his hair is mussed, all fucked up from someone’s hands in it, see the marks up close, the way they line his neck, his jaw, his collarbones. He finds his way to his bedroom and shuts the door behind him as you stand, trapped in the bathroom, mad at him for not knowing but furious at yourself for being so ridiculous.

Love was never supposed to hurt like this. 

The next time that you attend one of Taehyung’s opening nights, you don’t stick around long afterwards. 

You were planning on it, of course, like you always do, because ever since college you’ve made a point to see him after a show, tell him all of the things you wish you could say to him all of the time, you were amazing, you were brilliant, you were perfect in every way. You even have a small bouquet of flowers in your hands, arranged by none other than Namjoon—a pity bouquet, an I hope that you two can still be friends bouquet—ready to give to him, ready to see them sitting on your kitchen table as a reminder. 

And then, you see the way he kisses her, overcome with joy, running on that post-show high. You see the way he pulls her into him and plants one on her, arms wrapped around each other as they celebrate, in their own special way. 

Suddenly, the flowers feel like dead weight in your hands. 

You manage to catch one of the few co-stars of Taehyung’s that you recognize, one who was in Our Lives with him. His name is Seokjin, and he’s gorgeous. Broadway material. Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony material. He stops to say hello to you, and you ask if he could give the bouquet to Taehyung, tell him it was from you. 

Seokjin’s nice. He doesn’t ask why, he just nods. It saves you the trouble of telling him. Nobody wants to listen to your sob story. He says goodbye to you, and that he hopes to see you again soon. You hope so too. 

You spend the night curled up in your room pretending that everything is fine. You don’t see Taehyung when he comes home, and you don’t see him the next day, either. 

It’s not as if you’ve started to avoid Taehyung entirely. You live together—it would be downright impressive if you didn’t see each other for a whole day. It’s just, sometimes he still—

“Y/N? Wanna order Pad Thai?”

“Hey, Y/N, they’re playing The Devil Wears Prada on Freeform, do you want to come watch with me?”

“Central Park is having a Dog Festival, do you wanna go together?”

And sometimes, you just can’t. The thought of spending time with him makes your heart ache, whether it be from not wanting to be too close, or from missing him terribly. Either way, you don’t know if you’ll ever be able to muster up the same courage you once had. 

Turning to look at the pressed carnation in the vase atop your dresser, you laugh to yourself. It’s hard to believe that just a few months ago you thought that you would finally be able to tell him, to open up your heart and let him look into it like a kaleidoscope. Hard to believe that there was once a time when you thought that maybe, just maybe, he loved you back. It feels like it was eons ago. Like it was another universe entirely. 

You know that it’s not right for you to do this to Taehyung. He’s still your best friend. He always will be. He has no idea. He’ll never know. 

But sometimes—

Sometimes he comes home love drunk, wasted on kisses, splotches of pink lip gloss decorating his skin. 

Sometimes he spends dinner telling you all about the date he went on, the amazing vodka shrimp linguine he had, as the two of you eat Kirkland spaghetti in your dinky apartment. 

Sometimes he tells you that you’re his best friend, and that he misses you. 

Being in love with Taehyung had always been easy. It was being best friends, and making sure to keep the feelings a secret, that was hard. 

Taehyung isn’t home tonight. You hadn’t asked him where he’d be. You didn’t think that it mattered. 

And you tell yourself, over and over again, that it doesn’t matter. That you don’t need to know where he is every second of every day. He’s got a life outside of what exists in your stuffy apartment, a whole world of people craning to see him. He has reviews written about him in  The New York Times and people lining up outside the theater for his autograph on their Playbill. There’s so much more to his life than what he has with you. 

It’s better this way, you tell yourself, even if it’s not. Even if every time you step into your apartment, glance over at the vase on the kitchen table, you are reminded that it’s worse. Every time you see a damn carnation, daffodil, chrysanthemum, you can’t help but wish that things were different. You’re even starting to avoid Namjoon. 

That night finds you at a small Italian restaurant in a tiny alley off of Ninth Street. You’ve never been, but it had good reviews on Yelp and you could do with spending some time alone, wallowing in your feelings somewhere other than your bedroom. You’re starting to feel suffocated just being there. It would be good for you to get out. 

It would be good for you to get out, because the apartment reeks of what ifs, of what could have beens, and you can’t spend more than five minutes inside without throwing yourself your own personal pity party. You hardly see Taehyung nowadays because you can’t bear looking into his eyes anymore. Everything is awful, and you wish that it wasn’t, but you don’t know what to do to fix it. 

But Fate seems to love doing that thing where it’s out to get you. From the moment you met Kim Taehyung, Fate decided that you would be her next target. That no moment with him would leave you unscathed. And tonight is no exception. 

It’s just your luck that, ten minutes after you’re seated, the bell above the door rings to signal another customer, and you look up to see Taehyung and his girlfriend strolling in, glowing under the warm yellow light. You’ve never been more thankful, in that moment, to be seated right beside the bathroom, just out of sight of the booth that the hostess leads them to. It’s terrible, and it’s terrible, and it’s terrible. You watch as they order two glasses of a fancy rosé and giggle as they cheers to their show, to their lives, and to themselves. They spend the evening in the light of a single exposed bulb above their head, laughing and smiling and talking. 

The craziest part is that once upon a time, that would have been you. You and Taehyung would have decided that the night was a restaurant day and not a stay-at-home-and-cook-meal day. You would have found a quaint little place on Yelp and gotten the cheapest food on the menu. Once upon a time, you looked like that. 

[April 17th, 7:34PM]

Taehyung: [image sent] Taehyung: MMMMM look at this yummy yummy fish that I had tonight!! Taehyung: We should go here sometime!! I think you’d like it hehe

You look down at your plate. The food in front of you tastes like ash. 

“Congrats,” you say when you hear Taehyung leaving his bedroom, feet padding against the hardwood floor as he makes his way to the kitchen. 

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, eyes wide. It’s almost as if he’s surprised to see you out here, sitting on the couch, answering emails. Like he can’t believe you’re in your own home. You can’t blame him. “What are you talking about?”

“The review on The New York Times,” you tell him distantly, switching over to the tab on your computer where you read it. There’s a picture at the top of Taehyung and his co-star, front and center, holding hands as they look off into the distance, staring into an unknown future. “It’s your first five star review, isn’t it? They even listed it as the Critic’s Pick.”

“Oh, I… uh,” he begins, “I haven’t seen it yet. Been too busy.”

Bitterly, you wonder why. Even when you two are further apart than you have ever been, even when he spends all day out of the apartment and you spend all day inside, even when you barely fucking see each other, you can’t help but click on the articles that mention him, scroll through every review that mentions his name. 

Things might be different now, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t be proud of him. Of what he does. Of who he is. 

“Well, they said great things,” you tell him, sparing him the trouble of looking. “You deserve it.”

“You’re coming tonight, right? You have to, if the play is getting such good reviews,” Taehyung asks, an olive branch. You’ve spent so much time doing everything you can to keep your relationship as distant as possible, hiding in your bedroom and eating dinner at odd hours. But this is the one thing that you both can still hold onto. Taehyung’s shows, his performances, and you, in the audience, always finding his eyes. If everything else is in shambles, at least you will always have this. “I think you’d like it.”

“It sounds very Matrix-y.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, shrugging. “It sort of is. But it’s also about love. You’d like that, right?”

You suppose you’d like it a little more in another timeline.

Taehyung continues, barely giving himself time to catch his breath. “Basically, these two kids are playing this life-simulation game where every move they make directly corresponds with the actions of the characters they’re playing as. Cue me and Lancaster. And we meet, and slowly fall in love, over a series of chance encounters. You know, a coffee shop, the bank, a restaurant.”

“Really?” You ask, brows furrowed. 

“Why?” Taehyung’s eyes widen in concern, smile downturned ever so slightly as he takes in your expression. 

“I don’t know—” you begin. There’s just something about the storyline that rubs you the wrong way. “Maybe I’m just being cynical. But is it really possible for two people to find love like that? Through chance? Luck?”

Perhaps, Namjoon would say. You can hear his voice echoing in your head now. After all, wasn’t it luck that brought the two of you together?

You shake his thoughts away. Namjoon’s got his own set of problems—he’s in no position to be the wise one in this scenario.

Taehyung shrugs, as if he’d never given that a thought to begin with. “I don’t know,” he says. “I think that love can blossom anywhere. Just so long as you nurture it, water it and give it lots of sunlight. I just—I think that if you look hard enough, you can find love anywhere.”

You turn to face him, blinking up at him as you stare at each other, sitting on this damn couch in the middle of your apartment. Taehyung waxes poetic in front of you, tells you that if you just fucking look for love, you’ll find it. But he doesn’t know—and he never will. You’ve been looking for love for the past four years, you’ve been searching in all of the nooks and crannies of your body, and the only place you’ve ever found it has been in the deep pit of your heart, dusty and quiet and forgotten. Even now, staring into his eyes, scanning every bit of his irises for even a sliver of it, a spark, you come up empty. 

How could he say something like that, when he lives with you? When he looks at you while you’re eating takeout or sitting and watching a movie together. Does he just not see it? Or worse—does he know, and just refuse to say anything?

Suddenly, your body turns cold. It’s hard to believe that someone as hopelessly romantic can’t see what’s right in front of him. 

“I wish that was how it worked,” you say sourly, the words leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You snatch your laptop from the table and head into your room, leaving Taehyung alone on the couch, speechless.

He may be the one with flowers blooming in his heart, but you have been drowning for the past four years, and never have you felt further from the surface than right now. 

You don’t go to Taehyung’s opening show that night. 

Taehyung leaves to get ready at the theater at three in the afternoon, and you bid him goodbye before holing yourself up in your bedroom and keeping yourself busy. You start watching the newest season of Stranger Things and tidy up the knick knacks you have scattered all over the place. Anything to keep your mind occupied. 

Taehyung texts you during intermission.

[June 3rd, 8:55PM]

Taehyung: Hey are you here?

You don’t respond. 

By ten at night, you end up with the cleanest room you’ve had in years and half of the season left to watch. It’s not a great kind of busy. The red carnation atop your dresser stares into your soul and you nearly throw it out three different times. But it’s an okay kind of busy, because you don’t know if you could have beared to see Taehyung on stage tonight. See him dancing around with a beautiful girl on his arm, confessing his love for her and pulling her in for a kiss. 

Over the years, you have seen Taehyung kiss so many people. From the shy freshman boy cast next to him in a student-written play in college to the model-esque women on stage in an off-Broadway play with him. And it never used to hurt—not like this. You saw him lock lips with another and you supposed that that was just show business. 

But it’s not show business anymore. It stopped being show business that night, when he came home to an apartment lit up with candles, the sweet scent of macarons wafting through the air, and told you he had found someone. It hasn’t been show business since, not when Taehyung is looking for love and finds it everywhere except where you wish he would look most. 

Maybe you’re just being selfish. Taehyung doesn’t have to love you for you to love him. You knew that. You lived with that. He’s your best friend. He always will be. You can’t do anything to force him to love you back. You had always been fine with just being friends. 

But just—knowing that he doesn’t feel the same. Having that certainty rooted deep within you. That’s the part that hurts the most. 

Taehyung comes home earlier than he normally would on a day like this, catching you in the kitchen as you brew some chamomile tea, hoping that it will calm the waves that crash against the pier inside you. You turn to meet his eyes, and suddenly, you feel like you can’t see anything in them at all. 

“Why didn’t you come tonight?” He demands. “I looked for you and you weren’t there. Where were you?”

“Here,” you tell him. “I was thinking maybe I would go tomorrow.”

“But you’re always at my opening show,” Taehyung says, like you don’t know that already. “Why didn’t you come? Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” you tell him. You don’t think you’re drunk or tired enough for this conversation. At ten at night, you’re still cognizant, aware of what consequences this conversation might have when you wake up in the morning. 

“Then why weren’t you there? You know I need you there,” Taehyung pleads, coming up to you as you stand in your kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil.

“No, I didn’t know that,” you tell him firmly. You went to his opening shows because it was tradition. Not because it was necessary. 

“You’re my good luck charm, for god’s sake, Y/N,” Taehyung says, fists curled up at his sides. You can tell that he’s trying hard not to burst at the seams, like there are so many things he’s holding at the tip of his tongue. “I did such a shit job tonight without you there. I spent the entire first half of the show looking out into the crowd so much that Lancaster asked me if I had taken anything before we started.”

“That’s not my fault,” you tell him. “I didn’t know that you thought I was your good luck charm, or whatever.” And, because you’re bitter and petty and heartbroken, you add, “I would have thought that would be something your girlfriend is.”

Taehyung loses it. “What’s been going on with you, Y/N? Why are you being like this? Ever since my first show, I feel like we’re drifting further and further apart. You never want to spend time with me, you never want to come to my afterparties, you barely spare a glance at my girlfriends when I introduce them to you, and now, you’ve stopped coming to my shows. All of these things that I thought that we shared, ever since college. Tell me, Y/N, am I doing something wrong? Is there something that I’ve missed? Because it feels like we’re fucking strangers.”

The water finishes boiling, the kettle whistling on the stovetop as steam billows from the spout. “I’m not obligated to do any of those things, Taehyung,” you tell him harshly. “Just because we did them in college doesn’t mean I have to keep doing them now. What, did you think we’d still be doing that sort of stuff when we’re thirty? Forty, fifty? They were just college traditions.”

“‘College traditions’?” Taehyung asks, astounded. “Were all of those nights that we spent together just college traditions, too? Are we not allowed to do those things anymore? I miss you, Y/N. I hate not having you around and tonight was the worst it’s ever been. I don’t know what to do or say, I don’t know how to fix this, I don’t even fucking know what’s broken.”

“I just need space, Taehyung,” you tell him, hands gripping the edge of the countertop as you stare at the laminate, eyes tracing the lines to keep you from meeting his own. “I just need some time to myself, that’s all.”

“But why, Y/N?” Taehyung pleads, He reaches over to grab your hand, holds it in between the two of you like a lifeline. 

“‘Why?’” You echo angrily. “You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?” You tug your hand from his grasp. It’s clear you’re beating a dead horse. You wonder why you even tried in the first place. How naive you were, standing in the kitchen surrounded by scented candles and flowers and macarons, dreaming of a life with him by your side. Foolish. 

“Realized what?” 

“That I’m in love with you!” You shout, and the world goes silent. The kettle stops whistling, the water having evaporated into nothing, the packet of chamomile tea left, forgotten on the countertop. You stand there, breaths heavy, chest heaving, as you look at Taehyung, angry and mad and in love, all at once. 

“You’re what?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” you hiss. “I already know that you don’t feel the same.”

“Y/N, wait—”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” You turn on your heels, storming into your bedroom and collapsing against the door. Finally, finally, finally, you let the tears wrack your body, sending shivers down your spine. There’s salt on your tongue and smudged liner beneath your eyes. 

You thought pressing flowers makes them last forever. But even the red carnation is starting to shrivel. 

Subject Title: New Project????

From Park, Seojoon, to me

Hi Taehyung,

You did a great job last night in Chance Card! Really proud of you for accomplishing so much. Pretty soon you’ll be on Broadway and be too big for a small manager like me. You’ll need an agent, and a publicist, and a stylist, and a dog-walker…

Anyway, just emailing to let you know that Hugo Cleveland reached out to me to see if you were interested in auditioning for his next play. He personally wanted to see if you liked the part, and would give you preference if you did want to audition. It’s called Cupid, and it’s another one of those modern-day retellings of an old tale. I thought you might like it. Attached is the script and a short description of the play. Let me know if you’d like to give it a shot! I think this might be the project that gets you onto Broadway!!

As always, contact me if you need anything at all.

Park

Taehyung, still in bed despite it being nearly noon, taps around on his phone, pulling up the description of the play. He hates reading PDFs on his phone, so he’ll check out the script on his laptop later. 

Cupid by Hugo Cleveland

Cupid chronicles the tale of the world’s most well known hopeless romantic—Cupid himself. Set in a world of magical realism, Cupid has the power to make two people fall in love with a single shot of his arrow, and spends his life walking around the city of New York, bow and arrow by his side. 

The only problem is that Cupid has no way to make people fall in love with him, because his magic operates under the assumption of soulmates—a single person meant for another. And as the years have gone by, he has searched and searched and searched over millennia, desperate to find love, but it’s almost as if everyone has soulmates except for him. 

Little does he know, he need look no further to find the person he shall spend the rest of his life with—not when his best friend has always been by his side. 

Taehyung glares at the description like it’s personally offended him. He knows that it’s just a coincidence that he happens to receive this email the morning after his fight with you, but he can’t help but feel like God is playing the world’s worst practical joke on him. 

Cursed with the memory of an actor, he replays last night in his head over and over and over again, looping the feed back and forth as your words echo in his mind. 

You don’t know? You can’t tell? We’ve known each other for four years and you haven’t realized?

He never knew what he was supposed to be looking for. You were just friends, you had always been just friends. But then he looked out in the crowd and couldn’t see you anywhere, couldn’t make out your eyes even in a sea of hundreds like he always does, and it felt like there was more than just another audience member missing. He spent the rest of the evening getting his hopes up, thinking that maybe you’re just sitting somewhere else, maybe you put in colored contacts, maybe you’re hidden by some really buff guy in front of you. 

He missed you, last night. He’s been missing you a lot recently, missing the way the days you spent together would bleed into nights. Missing the way you wrap your arms around him and smother him in cuddles, missing the way you always remember his takeout order for the fifteen different restaurants you frequent. Missing the way he once thought that you could spend your whole lives together. 

Realized what?

He supposes that he has always been a bit foolish. All of his ex-girlfriends broke up with him, never the other way around. And while they all ended on good terms, they all said the same thing to him: it always seemed like his heart belonged to someone else. But he misread that, too. He just thought that he hadn’t found the right person, yet. He would keep searching until he did. 

That I’m in love with you!

The craziest thing about it all is that your confession didn’t even shock him that much. After the initial surprise wore off, it was almost as if the dust settled around you, the storm finally calming. Like finding the last puzzle piece after thinking it had been lost for days. Like feeling everything click into place.

Taehyung has been thinking a lot about last night, but his least favorite part is always this:

I already know that you don’t feel the same.

He wishes that he could have told you. He wishes that he could have been strong enough, could have realized what he had before it slipped through his fingertips. Wishes that he could have reached out and grabbed onto you and never let go. There’s nothing more that he wants to do than see you again. You live in the same tiny New York apartment, and you’ve never felt further away from him. 

Taehyung wills himself out of bed and washes his face, clearing away the leftover makeup and the sleep in his eyes. It’s a fresh start. It’s a new day. 

He sees you standing in the kitchen, making that tea that you had left forgotten last night. He catches your eyes for just a second before he loses them again, watches as you turn your back to him in a desperate attempt to avoid contact. 

“I got a new potential show to audition for,” he says loudly, breaking the silence. 

“That’s cool,” you say, emotionless. 

“Do you want to know what it’s about?”

You don’t respond. Taehyung takes this as a cue to continue. 

“It’s about a boy on a search for love,” Taehyung begins, rallying himself despite only being able to see your back. “And he goes out and sees all of these people falling in love and wants that for himself. And he wonders why nothing is sticking, why he can’t seem to fall in love with anybody. And then he realizes that the reason he can’t seem to fall in love with anyone else is because he’s already found his person.” A pause. He’s just summarizing a story, but this feels like a confession. “His best friend.”

You turn around sharply, tea sloshing in the cup in your hand. Taehyung inhales, then exhales. It’s now or never. You’ve been friends for so long. Who’s to say you can’t be more than that?

“Don’t you think I’d play this part well?” He asks. 

You shrug, closing your eyes and breathing heavy. He can tell that you’re holding something back, trying not to burst at the seams. “I’m not sure, Tae.”

“I think I would,” Taehyung tells you confidently. He takes a step closer to you, reaches over to take the cup of tea from your hands, placing it on the counter. “Because I’ve been doing it for so long, already.”

You gasp when he kisses you, a gust of air escaping your lips and immediately mixing with his, seize up at the feeling of his lips on yours. Immediately, Taehyung wonders if he’s overstepped a boundary, or two, or five, but then he feels you relax under his touch, feels you reach your hands up to cup his cheeks as you press against him insistently, drunk on the taste of his lips on your own. 

Taehyung’s kissed a lot of people in his day, but this one is different. He’s felt sparks, seen fireworks, but with you, it’s as if he’s sinking into a warm bath after a cold day. As if he’s returning to an apartment filled with the things he loves after a long day out. As if he’s coming home. 

All of these emotions, all of the little things tucked away in the corners of his soul, in the dark attic of his heart, come bubbling up to the surface, and all he can do is hope that you can feel them, swallow them up like wine, as you press your lips against his, grinning. 

Finally, you pull yourself away, almost as if you think you’ll get drunk if you keep going. 

“How long?” You ask. 

Taehyung shrugs. “I don’t know. A while now, definitely.”

“Really?”

“I think so,” Taehyung says. “I guess that I was wrong, what I said before about looking for love. I looked everywhere, I wanted to see it in every spark that was set my way, but I forgot the most important place. I should have known.” You curl into his touch, resting your head against his chest as his arms wrap around your waist. “How about you?”

“Forever,” you breathe out. “It started and it never stopped.”

Taehyung beams. The flowerbud in his heart had been shuttered for so long, hardly watered and never in the sun. And then suddenly, the curtains opened up and the clouds began to cry, and everything blossomed. You make him feel like he’s always home. You make him feel safe. 

You make him feel like a red carnation in bloom.

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[the-infamous-coat-of-baron-zemo]

Missed Opportunities - Helmut Zemo x Reader | Chapter 2

Here it is! I'm managed to whip up another part to this story. I hope you all enjoy this next bit!

If you missed out on Part 1, it's here.

Word Count: 2300 and some change

-----

Side Note: Obviously, I have taken some liberties with the plot and timeline of TFATWS. So this will be loosely based on the timings of what has happened, but will not be a chronological order of events occurred.

Much love to you, and thank you for the inspiration! And yes, there will be a Part 3 because this was more of a set-up chapter. So hopefully you won't be too disappointed with this one.

~Sandra~

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

As things turned out, your conversation with Bucky and Sam went surprisingly well. Once you were finally able to say your own piece and explain the entire story, a lightbulb seemed to have gone off within both of them.

Sam, of course, was the most understanding, realizing that the reaction Zemo had was surely due to the intense trauma of what happened. He went on to explain; he had seen those types of emotional outbursts between complete strangers who had similar experiences when The Blip happened. They would come into support groups to tell their own stories, once upon a time when the world began trying to make sense of what happened.

He said it was normal. And Sam was right, he's always right. It was a perfectly logical explanation, and those are the things you look for and stood by.

Except, this.

Nothing about Zemo's reaction felt normal. The connection upon seeing him again twisted up your insides and set your nerve endings on fire. None of your previous interactions ever gave you pause like this. No, this was different. Seeing the raw emotion on his face. The intensity of how closely he wrapped you into his body, as if he were trying to consume your entire being. You were held so closely to him, you could felt the beat of his heart, hear the raggedness of his breath, and sense the tremors beneath his fingertips.

Clearly what happened had changed you both. It would be hard not to given the enormity of the event. Again, you tried to think back to your time visiting him over the past couple of years in prison. Was there always a connection between you? Simmering beneath the surface? And The Blip was simply the catalyst to uncovering something hidden? You scoffed. Now you were just entertaining nonsense. Yes, it was emotional, but this was Zemo we're talking about. There's always a reasoning behind his actions, and they're usually executed in ways that only benefit him.

And just like that, logic and sanity had finally returned to you, like a cold bucket of ice water dowsing you over the head.

You remember looking to Bucky after Sam had finished his explanation and acceptance of everything that had transpired. You had sagged in relief noticing he had taken the information in stride and was no long on the defensive. However, in the following days after, you would always catch him now and again eyeing Zemo with some sort of suspicion. You figured with how manipulative the slightly unhinged genius could be, James was simply keeping a watchful eye on him. And why should he? We all should. Zemo was not to be trusted, and yet - deep down, you felt as if you were lying to yourself. That when push came to shove, you could trust him.

And that scared you.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

All of you were gathered around the kitchen island discussing tactics on where to locate Karli. Bucky had pitched we should be looking in isolated and abandoned areas, but Sam had different feelings on the subject. He felt they should be looking in more highly populated areas, as he believed they would want to try and blend in with the community like normal citizens.

So of course they start bickering, again.

You wanted to roll your eyes at them in utter exasperation, but held back. Instead you settle for a face palm as you continue to map out possible routes Karli and the Flag-Smasher may travel to stay accessible, but not completely visible to the public eye.

As you were zooming into a particular area that looked promising, you felt the brush of someone's hand against yours to the right of where you were sitting.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was. Sam and Bucky were still debating who's idea would bring around to most promising results in the short amount of time we had before Karli decided to strike again.

You peered up at Zemo thinking he was hovering to catch a glimpse of what you were working on, but instead you were surprised to see he had simply poured you a cup of tea and set it next to you.

The brush of the hand was deliberate though. This you knew for a fact. Over the past few days since your little reunion, you noticed Zemo had been silently giving you brief bouts of physical contact. Nothing overtly sexual in nature. In fact, they were quite light and fleeting. Sometimes, it was a brush of his hand against yours, a soft touch at your lower back or the slide of his fingers against a hip as he walked past you.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the actions. They certainly didn't disrupt you, but your body always took immediate notice when he did it.

The chair you were sitting in had swiveled when you went to look at Zemo. You had planned on quietly thanking him, but he had already moved to the opposite side of the island to observe the land markings Sam had drawn up on a paper map.

You gently picked up the tea cup and brought it to your lips. The warmth of the tea emanating from the cup was a balm for your hands. Before taking a sip, you closed your eyes and inhaled the scent of the tea. Ah. Cherry blossom. Apparently, a favorite of his according to James.

When you opened your eyes, Zemo was now watching you. You tilted your head to the side and smiled graciously at him, mouthing a 'Thank you' in reply to his kind gesture.

The corner of his lip twitched up in response to your thanks, nodding back at you. He held his gaze as you took a sip of the tea.

Your eyebrows shot up as you swallowed the tea. It was quite delicious. You pointed to the cup and nodded your head up and down in quick succession to show your appreciation.

You could tell Zemo was holding in a chuckle, but refrained from expressing himself fully. You had narrowed your eyes, and thought about calling him out on it, but ultimately decided against it. Instead you motion your head to Sam and Bucky acknowledging their ridiculousness. Zemo just dismissed them with a, 'What did you expect?' type of look.

Finally you had enough of the two knuckle-heads on the other side of the kitchen and decided to intervene on their behalf otherwise they would never accomplish anything today.

"You guys planning on coming to a conclusion any time soon, or should I start selling tickets to this show?"

James stopped his rant and turned to you, "He started it," pointing his finger at Sam. "Sam just doesn't want to admit that my prospective places have added value that his don't."

"Now wait, that's not entirely true Bucky. I just think -," Sam started in again, but you had cut him off before he could finish.

"For the love of - how old are you two? It amazes me Steve got as much done as he did with you two around," you shook your head in feigned disbelief.

You might have felt bad about your slight outburst, but it was absolutely worth it to witness the sheepish expressions on both Sam and Bucky's faces. You wished you had snapped a picture. Definitely would have made it your new lock screen on your phone.

"If it's okay, I'd actually like to offer a third option," you said, motioning them over with a flourish wave of your hands.

As Sam and Bucky moved over to you, you shifted your eyeline to Zemo, "You too Zemo. Let's get your opinion on this as well since you are a resident to the area and more familiar with its surroundings than we are."

Zemo rose from his place and came to rest at your side, hovering, but not in a suffocating manner.

Even though Zemo had kept a reasonable amount of distance between you, Bucky seemed to show some displeasure as you saw him scoot him a bit out of the way as he tried to put some distance between the two of you.

You bit back a comment in favor of going over what you had discovered and turned to Sam, "I know we want to locate Karli as quickly as possible, but there are too many variables to account for when scouting buildings that they could be hiding out in. I propose we search in hidden pathways that could quickly get the Flag-Smashers in and out of different parts of the city without being readily detected."

"Alright, that does make sense, so what are you suggesting?" Sam tilted his head in agreement before gesturing for you to continue.

"Take a look at this map," you swipe your hand up the computer screen to show a holographic image of an underground rail system.

"Those look like the old track lines from a railway project that was never completed. If I remember correctly, the government abandoned the project when they ran out of money. Most of the tunnels were built, but never quite finished," Zemo interjected.

"Exactly," you turned to him beaming.

You moved your hands animatedly as you were excited by this prospect, "These tunnels travel throughout the entire city. Karli and the rest of the Flag-Smashers can easily maneuver where they need to with these routes. If I were to put money on it, I'd bet you could find their insignias left on the walls of the tunnels below as a potential guide that could -"

"That could lead us straight to their hideout," Zemo finished, smiling with what could be described as something akin to pride, clearly impressed with the astute observation you made.

"I see where you're going with this. You know, you might be onto something. Especially with our truncated time table," Sam chimed in. "Bucky? What do you think?"

You turned your chair around so you could face the three of them fully.

"Yeah, I agree. I think there's a legitimate chance we could find some clues at the very least," Bucky replied, leaning in over your left shoulder to get a closer look at the image.

Memorizing it most likely.

"If I may suggest, here?" Zemo said, pointing to a location not far from them.

You saw Sam and Bucky turn to each and nod in agreement of the starting point.

"That's good. It's also close to one of the last places we spotted Karli, so it makes sense to check it out first before branching off somewhere deeper," Sam assented.

You turn back around and start typing on the keyboard. A few moments later a ping erupted from everyone's phone.

"I sent the map to all of us, so we each have a copy," you stated.

You closed the laptop and hopped off the chair you had been sitting in, packing your stuff up into your backpack off to the side.

"Whoa. Whoa. What are you doing?" Bucky said, placing his vibranium arm on your shoulder to pause your movements.

"Getting ready to go?" you questioned slowly, as if your actions weren't obvious.

"You're not coming with us," James stated sternly.

You turned to look at Sam.

"Listen, Bucky's right," Sam answered. You saw him hold his hands up in the air and shrug before placing a hand on your shoulder before continuing, "I know, it's a shocker, having Buck and I agree on something - but when it comes to your safety, we both feel the same."

You chewed on your inner cheek, knowing this was going to most likely be a losing battle. You pursed your lips, closed your eyes slowly, and sighed before lolling your head to the side in defeat.

Sam grinned knowing he won and dropped his hand from your shoulder, as he left the kitchen to go get his gear.

Bucky came up from behind you and gave you a quick hug and kiss on the head.

"Thank you," James murmured before moving to the door.

"You can't fault them for caring," Zemo said, voice carrying softly through the air.

You pivoted around to where Zemo was, watching him adjust his holsters and making a move for his coat.

"I know," you begrudgingly admit.

Zemo put on his coat and walked over to stand in front of you.

"It may not be completely dangerous, but there's always a chance, and it's not one your friends are willing to take with you," Zemo stated.

You drop your head slightly to stare at the floor. He was right. Sam and Bucky just wanted to look out for you, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be helpful down there. You do know some self defense. You spent 10 years around Steve and various Avengers over time, it's not like you weren't going to pick anything up.

"Zemo let's go," Sam said briskly, as he walked past them to meet Bucky at the front door.

You lifted your head up and saw Zemo give a curt nod to Sam before focusing his attention back on you.

Zemo started to walk by you, but paused to lean into, grabbing your wrist to gently rub his thumb over your pulse point and whisper, "And neither am I."

With that, he abruptly walked off to join Sam and James.

Your wrist was tingling with sensation even after Zemo had left your side.

Before they all left, you managed lean over the island to strangle out, "Please play nice with each other and come back in one piece!"

You could hear the huffs of laughter as they left and the door clicked shut behind them.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

[mandoalorian]

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Four: Lies

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person's relationship with his son. You've heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You've felt his pain and anguish and you've never been able to relate to anything more. But things don't come easy for you, and they certainly don't come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: brief mention of blood, allusions to an abusive household/family, mention of child custody battle, 80s typical misogyny, cursing.

Word count: 5,200>

Masterlist

I Believe In Love Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Four - Next 

-—-—-—-

He'd lied. You read the name over and over again, the crumpled letter shaking in your hands. Lorenzano. Lorenzano. Lorenzano. He wasn't Max Lord, he was Maxwell Lorenzano and you had no idea how he could lie to you - or better yet, why he would lie to you? There was a reason for everything. You might’ve been new to the world of man, and you might not yet understand their conditions and way of life, but it didn’t change the fact that this hurt. He was your first friend - your first real friend who wasn’t a child. He accepted you into his home, and he even believed you when you told him who you are. You had opened up about being a literal goddess from the secret haven Themyscira, and he hadn’t even told you his real name.

And then, your visions of him… memories and dreams… they hit you one by one. Now you could finally put a face to the voice that had been haunting you. He was the child you saw when you had fallen asleep in Black Gold Cooperative, the child who was getting bullied for the clothes he wore, and his shoes. You felt foolish not realising it sooner. The image of ‘Little Lorenzano’ getting tormented perfectly paralleled the way Alistair had gotten cornered in the park earlier today. Your heart ached for them both.

Max Lord was clearly putting on a brave face in front of you. But now that you knew who he really was, you knew that he was deeply hurting, and he needed your help. He might not realise it, but this is why you were here. You’d come to the world of man to fulfil your duty as the Goddess of Home and Hearth for a reason and Zeus had deliberately connected you with Alistair and Maxwell. This was your purpose. They were your purpose.

You smoothed out the letter to the best of your ability, deciding that if you were to help him, you should probably read it. You had hope that it would help you understand things and allow you to piece together the puzzle. You glanced back at the speckles of his blood in the sink, and the smashed vase on the floor. Whatever was in this letter had clearly angered him.

I, Theodore Thomas IV, share a bond with Miss Grey and recognise that she is a caring and devoted mother. We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.

A bond. You were quickly able to identify that Julianna Grey was the mother of Alistiar, although the bond between she and Theodore Thomas IV had not yet become clear to you. Your heart would usually find warmth in the revelation that Julianna was, in fact a ‘caring and devoted’ mother, but instead it grew cold. As the goddess of home and hearth, you could sense the lie in his words. You wanted to believe that Julianna was a good mother, but your intuition said otherwise. These were your powers - and there was no way you were wrong about this. Despite the immediate concern you had for Allistair, you pushed the feeling to the back of your brain and forced yourself to continue reading the letter.

Mr Maxwell Lorenzano and Miss Julianna Grey divorced on the seventh month of 1980 after being married for two years. Miss Grey notes that their relationship was strained since the beginning, with Mr Lorenzano too preoccupied with his career to focus on his family.

Marriage - Max and Julianna were married. It was something you had read about back on Themyscira when you had spent time educating yourself on the ‘way of man’. Marriage was, supposedly, a sacred ritual that joined together the spirits of two people in the name of love. And love was the fundamental principle that would create a family. At the core of a family, was love, and that was the most important thing. Your eyes flicked back up the final sentence of the first paragraph; “We are in full belief that Alistair Lorenzano would be better off, in the care of his biological mother.” You couldn’t help but shake your head profusely. These people wanted to take Alistair away from Max? There was no way. Theodore may think that Julianna deserves Alisitair, but it was never going to be about ‘deserve’. It could only be about love. And you knew for certain that Maxwell loved Alistair with his whole heart.

I have known Miss Grey since 1980, after working on her and Mr Lorenzano’s divorce case. As not only her partner, but also a trusted lawyer of our capitol’s legal enforcement, I can whole-heartedly ensure that sole custody of Alistair Lorenzano must be granted to Miss Julianna Grey.

Divorce was something you weren’t so familiar with, and you figured it should be something you ask Maxwell about at a later date. It was at this moment you learned that Theodore was Julianna’s partner, lover, even. No wonder he thought so highly of her. There was no question about it. You knew you had to pay Julianna and Theodore a visit to see for yourself. You had to see the truth.

Please find us at the District Columbia Court, D.C., in one week from the date stated on the letter. If you make no effort to show and fight your case, you will be banished from seeing Alistair until he turns eighteen years of age.

Banishment? The thought of splitting up Max and Alistair filled you with the most excruciating pain. You couldn’t let this happen. You wouldn’t let this happen.

Sincerely,

Ted

So Theodore was Ted and Maxwell was Max. If you had known that names in the world of man could fluctuate so much, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten mad so mad at Max for lying about his name. After catching the address on the envelope, you engrained it in your memory and carefully folded up the letter and placed it in the pocket of the Maxwell’s pinstripe shirt that he had given you to wear. Now you just had to figure out a way to get to the address on the letter.

You spent some time sweeping up the shattered glass on the floor, and cleaned up the sink before padding back into the living room and sliding your feet back into your gladiator sandals, buckling them up. You even picked up the lasso of truth and tied it around your waist so it acted like a makeshift belt on you. There was no way you were going to leave it behind. You took another look at the photo frame that was on the small table next to the couch and picked it up. You smiled as you felt the exact same love that Maxwell felt when he was in the photo, holding baby Alistair. Just looking at the family portrait filled you with so much joy. You knew that Max’s love for his son was genuine.

Turning the frame over, you opened it up and took the glossy polaroid out, placing it in the same pocket of your shirt. You loved the photo and you wanted to take it wherever you went. 

It was cold outside, and the sky was a deep shade of blue. There was definitely a draft, and you wondered if you should’ve changed back into your Amazonian warrior gear. The oversized shirt that Maxwell had given you, as well as the gladiator sandals, didn’t really provide you with the greatest amount of warmth. You weren’t even wearing anything on your legs.

A small old lady with a zimmer frame was walking down the street. “Oh wow!” she exclaimed, looking you up and down, presumably judging your outfit of choice. “You have very nice legs, but aren’t you cold?”

You looked down at your legs, noticing the goose pimples, and nodded in confirmation. “Yes, but I’ll be okay. Do you think you could help me with something?” you asked curiously, watching as she raised her eyebrows.

“Me? Help you? What could little old me-”

You took the letter out of your pocket and pointed to the address. “How do I get here?”

She adjusted her glasses and squinted. “Thomas Family Lawyers,” she read out loud, before turning back to you. “Honey, this law firm is on the other side of Georgetown. You best call a cabbie, especially this late in the evening.”

“A cabbie?” you asked, shivering in the cold. “I’m sorry… I’m not from round here.” you shrugged helplessly.

“Let me help you.” the old lady said, reaching into her purse and bringing out an enormous 1984 brick-like cell phone. The contraption shocked you, and you even wondered how she had fit it in her bag. She pulled out the antenna and began to dial a number. “Hi, could I get a pre-paid taxi to Thomas Family Law Firm, Georgetown? Thank you,” She put the phone back in her purse and offered you a smile. “A cab won’t be long. I’m Mrs Stagg, by the way. Might I enquire… why are you going to a family law firm when you’re not even from the area?”

“To help a friend.” you returned the smile.

“Does your friend live in this neighbourhood?” 

“He does. Um… his name is Max Lord?” you explained but the way it left your lips made it sound more like a question. Lord? Lorenzano? What difference did it make?

“Ah,” was the small sound that emitted from Mrs Stagg’s throat. “Max Lord, the oil guy. My son Simon is- was an investor for Maxwell’s company. From what I heard, the company is bust. A joke. Max Lord has been scamming the entire nation for years.”

“Scamming?” you asked, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“Black Gold Cooperative have shares in oil fields all around the world, only, the oil fields have completely dried up, you know - with the Cold War and all. But he kept going… kept making those silly infomercials and selling his dream. ‘Anything you want, you can have it.’ or something like that.” Mrs Stagg scoffed, shaking her head incredulously. You recognised the quote from when you had seen him all suited up on the television. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand. Why would he lie to the whole country?” you beckoned further, despite the conversation bringing you some uncomfort. Max had seemed like a genuinely good guy and a loving father up until this point. 

“For money, I suppose. That’s all it’s ever about with folk like him. Money. I chastise my son for it too. He’s the CEO of Stagg Industries and the only reason I could live in such a beautiful neighbourhood like this one. He bought my home here,” she beamed proudly. “But, I don’t know much about Max Lord. Don’t really see him around on the streets either. He must be cooped up in his office most of the time. Hey, you’re his friend. Maybe you should ask him why he’s nothing but a low-life conman.” 

Her words stung, and they weren’t even about you. You were completely lost for words, and surprised that she had so much hate in her heart for Max. Granted, if he was rivals with her son, it would make sense, but she did raise many questions that concerned you greatly. When the taxi pulled up, she paid the driver and helped you into the passenger seat. “I don’t know Max Lord,” she whispered from the other side of the car door. “But please darling, be careful.” She warned you before the cabbie whisked you away.

Your concept of time was slightly askew, but you figured the journey to the law firm lasted twice as long as the journey from Black Gold to Max’s home. You looked out the window taking in the stunning city at night. The buildings were all lit up and reflected against the windows, creating a glitter in your eye. There was nothing like this on Themyscira. No tall skyscrapers, no enormous shopping malls or company buildings. D.C. was booming, and it was beautiful. The journey allowed you to process Mrs Stagg’s words and think even more about Max. Clearly, both Julianna and Theodore had their reasons not to like Maxwell, and now, so did Mrs Stagg and her son Simon. You had to speak to Max and confront him. You knew there was more to him than what meets the eye.

Thomas Family Lawyer’s was a big building, not as big as Black Gold Cooperative, but it was still big. Just as you went through the revolving doors (which you had now grown accustomed to, due to your time spent and Max’s office) a group of girls began to file out. Whilst Raquel had been somewhat confused by your presence, these girls shot you the most evil of stares.

“Do you know what time it is? Office hours are closed. Why are you here?” One girl with sleek black hair spat coldly. You practically winced at the malice in her voice.

“Oh, I’m here to see Theodore Thomas?” you said slowly, nervously biting your lip.

“Who are you?” quizzed the same ebony haired girl.

“I’m a friend of Max Lord.” was the only thing you could come out with. Maxwell had warned you to refrain from identifying yourself as the ‘goddess of home and hearth’ in front of the public. He told you that people won’t believe him like he does, and that they’ll think you’re crazy. You had no choice but to believe him.

“Max Lord!” a red haired girl gasped, and a shorter blonde girl slapped her hand over the redhead’s mouth. “Sorry,” the redhead muffled as the blonde girl removed her hand. “He’s just so sexy.”

“But you know we’re not supposed to like him.” The blonde girl hissed.

“Huh?” you asked, knotting your eyebrows together. “Not supposed to?”

The ebony haired girl let out a longing groan. “Will the both of you just shut up?” she grimaced, glaring at the other two girls before looking back at you with that same mean stare. “Turn left, his office is the big one at the bottom of the corridor. You’re lucky he’s working late tonight.” 

“Yeah, on his girlfriend’s case.” The redhead said weakly.

“Can you not keep your mouth shut?” Snapped the black haired girl. “Why would you say that in front of this hobo stranger when she’s just said she’s Max Lord’s friend. She doesn’t need to know that Mr Thomas is working on the custody case! It’s a wonder he hasn’t fired you yet for being so stupid.”

You had zoned out of the pointless conversation about mid-way through anyway. Those girls were nothing but rude to each other anyway. You slipped past them and down the corridor until you reached two double doors, not hesitating for a second to open them up.

There, with his head buried down into a pile of papers, was a dark haired man in a tight fitted suit. He abruptly looked up when you had entered his office, his mustache wavering in bewilderment as he took in the appearance of a girl who was wearing nothing but an oversized button up shirt and brown strapped gladiator sandals. “C-can I help you?” he gulped, relishing the sight of his body like it was the sweetest view he’d ever come across. You crossed your bare legs together awkwardly, feeling slightly vulnerable by the way he was staring at you. 

“Are you Theodore Thomas IV?” you asked.

“I am.” the dark haired man confirmed, shuffling around in his leather seat.

You nodded, turning around to close the double doors behind you and walking over to his desk. You took out the crumpled up letter that had been addressed to Maxwell Lorenzano and slid it over the expensive oak wood. “What is this?” you questioned. Theodore took out his reading glasses before analysing it.

“Where did you get this letter?”

“Max Lord is my friend.” you gulped, folding your arms over your chest. “And this letter…”

“You mean Maxwell Lorenzano?” Theodore scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Listen, I’m not here to discuss that low-life loser, okay? I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

“So do I.” you persisted. “This letter…”

“Unless you’re his lawyer, and I doubt you are,” he snarled, looking at you up and down with the utmost disdain. “I will not be discussing the letter with you. Friend or not, it’s confidential.”

“I’m here to help him.” you gritted out, unable to believe the anger that dripped from your own tongue. It was true, you were angry. You were angry at the way everyone was so against Maxwell Lord, and you were angry at the fact the reason remained so unclear. Every new person you met didn’t like him, and you just wanted to know why.

Your words did pique the curiosity of Theodore, however. He raised an eyebrow and leaned over his desk, his gaze not breaking from you once. “Help him? You mean, you’ll be representing him in court?” You weren’t sure what that meant, but you nodded your head. If this was the only way you could get information out of Theodore Thomas IV, then so be it. “Do you even have any legal experience?”

“What? No. I told you, I’m just his friend.”

Theodore let out a boisterous laugh, the level of volume making you flinch. “Shit, he can’t even afford his own lawyer. I didn’t realise it was that bad,” he assumed. “Excuse me for one second.” he pointed a finger and dialled a number on the telephone.

Meanwhile, Maxwell was Julianna’s home. When Alistair heard his dad’s voice, he came running downstairs to greet him. “Daddy!” he called excitedly, running into his father’s arms. “You came back!” Maxwell picked up Alistair and spun him around, pressing a loving kiss to his son’s forehead.

“What do you want Maxwell?” Julianna sighed, tapping her foot impatiently against the marble floor of the lobby.

“To talk,” Max answered, placing Alistair back down on the floor. “Just us two. Uh- is Ted here?”

“Lucky for you he’s working late at the firm. Working on our damn case,” Julianna shook her head before turning to face her son. “Alistair, go to your room.” she commanded.

“But I want to see daddy!” Alistair cried, tears pricking his dark brown eyes.

“He can stay.” Maxwell negotiated but the comment was completely lost on Julianna.

“Go. To. Your. Room.” Julianna barked angrily, which sent a frightened Alistair running back to his bedroom.

“Shit Julianna, he’s just a kid. No need to talk to him like that.” Maxwell frowned, his ex-wife’s tone reminding him of his own father’s.

“Now Maxwell, I know you’re not giving me parenting advice, are you?” she asked sarcastically. Maxwell noted how bitter she had become, or perhaps, how bitter she always was. “I’m assuming you’re here to talk about the case. Try and change my mind. Well, you can’t.”

“Julianna, I know things have been rough between us since the divorce but I just want what’s best for Alistair. I love him so much.” Maxwell revealed.

“Bullshit!” Julianna scowled. “All you do, Max, is speak bullshit. You want what’s best for him? You’ll allow me and Ted to have full custody of Alistair. You’re a shit father and you know it.”

“I know- I know I’m messed up. I mean, I’ve messed up in the past but, something happened. Something inside me woke up and I’m ready to step up Julianna. I’ve changed, please just believe me. I love Ali-”

“You don’t deserve him,” Julianna growled. “You know what Maxwell? You’re nothing but a deadbeat. Just like your father was.”

Maxwell felt his face turn red with rage at his ex-wife's comment. He clenched his fists so hard his knuckles had even turned white. “I am nothing like my father!” Maxwell yelled defensively as the anger bubbled within him. He wanted to cry. Every time a memory of his own abusive father came up, it made Max want to curl up into a whole and cry. It broke him.

Before Julianna could reply, the phone on the wall began to ring. Julianna answered it.

“Hey, Julie?” Theodore was on the line, still laughing from his talk with you. “Baby, you won’t believe this.”

“What is it?” Julianna asked hesitantly, twirling the wire of the phone around her finger.

“Some girl- some half naked girl is here- in my office claiming to be a friend of Maxwell,” Theodore spluttered. You frowned at his tone of voice as he talked about you, right in front of you. Julianna turned to Maxwell in bewilderment, who was just standing there and had no idea what was going on. “She’s saying she’s going to represent him during the custody trial.”

“What?” Julianna spat. “Who the fuck is she?”

“I don’t know! Never seen her in my life. Pretty little thing though, I guessed maybe he’s fucking her? Not sure. She says she’s living with him.”

“Living-” Julianna couldn’t help but repeat her boyfriend’s words. “Teddy, Maxwell is here. Right now. Can you come home and… bring her with you? I want to have words with her.”

“Got it. See you soon sweetie.” Theodore finished before hanging up the phone.

Julianna turned to Max. “That was Theodore. He says some half naked girl has shown up to his office claiming to be a friend of yours.”

Maxwell’s eyes went comically wide as his greatest fears became realised. “What? No, no- there’s no way. That’s impossible. I told her to stay at home- how the hell did she get to Thomas Family Lawyer’s?”

“You’re asking me?” Julianna gasped in disbelief. “Who the hell is she, Max?”

Max was so confused and shocked, he couldn’t even find words. If you had found your way to Theodore’s office, that meant you had read the letter. It also meant that you knew his name. And finally, it meant that you had completely invaded your privacy. Part of Maxwell was mad, but an even bigger part of him was confused as to how you ended up on the other side of Georgetown in the office of his ex-wife’s current boyfriend. You weren’t even from round here, hell, you’d only gotten into a car for the first time today. Julianna and Theodore weren’t the only ones who had a thousand questions. Maxwell did too.

When you arrived at the Thomas family home, you looked at it with complete adoration, just like how you looked at Maxwell’s home. It was extensive in size, with beautiful pillars and adorned with flowers on every corner. Maxwell and Julianna were waiting for you and Ted in the dining room. Ted hung up his suit jacket on the coat peg in the lobby and you slowly followed him into the dining room. Unlike Maxwell’s home, which was covered with photographs of Alistair, you couldn’t spot a single picture of the bright eyed child in any of the rooms you passed. You wondered why.

When you entered the room, Julianna’s and Maxwell’s jaws both dropped in unison. “She’s wearing your shirt!” Julianna screeched, pointing her finger accusingly at you. 

“Yeah? So fucking what?” Maxwell shot back. “I didn’t realise you can police my wardrobe now!”

Your gaze flicked between Maxwell and Julianna who were already arguing with each other. "Can we settle down?" Theodore intervened, placing his briefcase down on the table.

Maxwell turned to you and took a deep breath. "Why- why didn't you put on some clothes before you left the house?" he sighed, closing his eyes as he tried to keep his composure.

"I- I didn't have any clothes and. I didn't know if it was normal to dress like this in the world of man." you admitted sheepishly, feeling embarrassed that you'd made a fool of yourself and seemingly Maxwell too.

"The world of what?" Julianna scrunched up her nose. "She has no clothes? Maxwell, where did you pick this whore up?"

You stiffened up at her harsh words and Maxwell's dark eyes snapped open. "Don't call her that," he warned. "She's… different. Look, I can't explain now but-"

Julianna turned to Theodore. "I want her out of my house. She's a fucking prostitute."

"She's not a prostitute," Maxwell sighed, running his fingers through his dark blonde hair as the stress engulfed him. "She's just a friend."

"I want her out." Julianna reiterated, her voice like venom.

"I- I can wait by the car," you told Maxwell timidly. He didn't reply, instead just putting his head in his hands. You turned to Julianna and Theodore. "I apologise for any intrusion I may have brought upon you both." you said before walking away.

Even before you got to the front door, you'd heard them start fighting again. Maxwell wasn't yelling, but Julianna was so loud and accusing. You couldn't help but feel like she brought around such a toxic environment.

As you leaned against Maxwell's car, you looked up at the upstairs window. It was illuminated, signifying that the light was on. It was so cold and you couldn't help but sigh as you waited for your friend to return and take you home— if he still liked you, that is. After everything that had gone on, you wouldn't be surprised if he just left you on a street corner to fend for yourself. 

You were delighted when you saw Alistair in the illuminated window. He poked his head around the curtains, smiling and waving immediately when he saw you. You grinned back, thankful to see the sweet boy and to know that he was okay. The smile on his face dropped and although you couldn't hear what was going on back in the house, you could tell by his expression that there was something wrong. Alistair disappeared from the curtains and you began to untie the lasso of Hestia from your waist. Swinging the rope around in the air, you attached it to Alistair's balcony and swung yourself up to the third storey of the Thomas family home. You quietly tapped on his window. After only a few seconds Alistair returned and let you in.

You clambered back into the house, finding yourself in the little boys bedroom. "Hey Alistair, how you doing?" you smiled, kneeling down and giving your friend a hug.

"I'm good, I'm so glad to see you again!" Alistair confessed with a toothy grin. "How did you get up here?" Alistair asked curiously, stepping out onto the balcony and looking at the long way down from where you had been standing by his father's car.

You gulped. "Can you keep a secret?" you whispered. Alistair nodded enthusiastically. "Okay." you showed Alistair your lasso, and he watched it with bright eyes as it glowed gold. If you could trust Max, you knew for a fact you could certainly trust Alistair. After all, they were your purpose. They were the reason you had found yourself in the world of man.

"Whoa, what is it?" Alistair asked, pointing his finger hesitantly, as if he wanted to touch it but not sure if it would hurt him.

"It's magical," you revealed. "My mother Hestia gave me it. It lets people see the truth, and speak the truth. It knows when you're lying."

"...And it helps you climb up really tall buildings? Like Spiderman?" Alistair asked with wide eyes.

You giggled. "Yes."

"Can I try?" Alistair beckoned further.

"Maybe one day," you promised him. "It can be difficult to learn, but I'd love to teach you." 

You and Alistair both gasped as you listened in on what was going downstairs. You heard footsteps, and it sounded like Max was leaving. You rose to your feet and approached the window again, unravelling your lasso. "Hey, I have to go now. Listen, you can't tell Julianna or Ted that I was up here, okay? I don't think they like me."

"Oh, they don't like anyone who's associated with daddy." Alistair frowned, but nodded understandingly. "Are you going home with daddy?"

"I hope so." you replied, because there was really no way of telling where you stood with Maxwell at this point in time.

"Good," Alistair beamed, and in that moment, you recognised his smile to be the spitting double of his father's. "Because I like it when you're around daddy. He's not as miserable."

You tilted your head but had no time to question Alistair because you heard the front door open. Swinging back on your lasso, you attached it to the branch of a tree and dropped back down to the front of the porch where Maxwell's car was parked. Wrapping your lasso back around your waist, you pretended like you hadn't moved from the car— like you had been waiting for him this entire time.

"Good night!" Maxwell called but earned no response, only the slam of the front door. He sighed deeply and slumped his shoulders in defeat before turning to face you. His lips were curled into a frown and he shook his head as he approached you, sliding past you and unlocking the car door. "Get in." he told you, to which you obliged and slipped into the passenger seat.

Maxwell dropped his head to the wheel of the car in frustration. He wanted to scream. Cry. Yell. Curse. He hated this. He hated having to fight for what was already his. He needed Alistair— his life would be empty without his son. There was no question about it. And unfortunately for Max, he was beginning to lose all hope.

"Are you okay?" You asked, feeling as though the question was a stupid one considering the disheveled look on Maxwell's face. You placed a hand on his back with full intention to be comforting. He didn't reply. After a few seconds of silence, you heard his sobs. You heard his whimpers and chokes. "Oh Max." you whispered quietly, rubbing his back.

"I can't— I can't fucking do this," Maxwell cried, tears dripping down his cheeks and falling onto the steering wheel. "They're right— what they say about me— they're all right. I'm a monster."

You winced, shaking your head at his comment. "You are not a monster." you assured him.

"You don't even know me," Maxwell huffed before glaring at you, the tears still falling. "You're just— you're just some random girl who came into my life at the wrong fucking time and— I don't even know why you're here. Why are you here?" He said your name like it was poison and the desperation in his voice was enough to make your heart ache.

You swallowed. "When I found out your name, your real name, I knew for certain… Zeus brought me to you and Alistair for a reason. Everything is so clear now. Max, I'm here to help you."

"I'm screwed— we’re screwed. It's pointless. There's nothing we can do. We can't go up against them. Julianna is a fucking psycho and Ted is one of the best family lawyers in the state—"

"And I'm the daughter of Zeus and Hestia. I'm the Goddess of Home and Hearth and I will not let them rip you away from Alistair." you promised with pure determination in your voice. The change of your tone was enough to make Maxwell stop crying and look up to you like you were his saviour. His angel. And despite everything that happened, despite the feeling of complete hopelessness, he believed you.

The war began now.

-—-—-—-

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[vminity21]

sweet on you | ksj

Pairing: baker!seokjin x female!reader

Word Count: 3,087

Genre: fluff, absolute fluff on the valentine’s day

Warning(s): other than i have the biggest sweet tooth whether it is for seokjin or a colossal of desserts but you have been warned otherwise none; Rated: pg

Summary: after every excuse you take to visit your favorite local bakery to see your favorite employee, in a sweet surprise, you learn that the baker happens to share an immense crush on you as you do him.

Credits to: @suhdays​ once again for creating the cover! Happy Valentines day!

Seokjin kneads at the dough of what is to become the toastiest of baguettes while flour paints his arms, and his gloved hands grow achy from the continuous batches. Special orders flow numerously as the holidays inch closer, and with Valentine’s day approaching its turn, it has been long hours of consistently baking and recreating desserts for the hopeless romantics. Inwardly he knows he is guilty of such fondness for a face haunts every crevice of his mind even in the odd hours of the evening when he tosses and turns in his sleep.

The ring of the door signals another customer prompting Seokjin to slip off his current gloves to exchange for new ones, lifting his head to see none other than who makes his heart leap every single time- you. Smiling brightly in his direction, he gulps before putting on his confident face. “Welcome back! I’m glad to see the macarons didn’t scare you away,” he chuckles while you press fingertips of pure chagrin to your forehead.

“I consumed all thirty of them and I’m not sure if I should be ashamed or proud, but I surprisingly survived,”

Quiet murmurs of customers are sporadic throughout the space, yet their wandering eyes remain on the décor of the bakery, hardly noticing the sparks glimmering between you and your favorite worker. “Whoa,” Seokjin bellows, “And, I’m not sure if I should applaud you or tell you to beware. Sugar can be brutal,”

“Well, with your recipes, I’d say it’s worth the risk.” It’s a subtle flirt, yet the flattery in Seokjin’s eyes melt your heart.

“What can I get for you today?” Seokjin’s covered palms press against the freshly sanitized glass as he stares at you contently. Every chance you get, you enter this very bakery in the hopes of seeing Kim Seokjin, and every chance you get, you take home another treat that you save for your cheat day after a long week of work. Out of every local bakery, you have yet to find one that tops the way Seokjin bakes. He has a knack for ingredients and everything you have tried has been sent straight from the pearly gates of Heaven. But you are also convinced that Seokjin was God sent too because when you first discovered this place, you did not expect the immediate spark when you locked with his kind, umber eyes.

Hearts must have danced in elegant spirals around your frame while you witnessed the light movement of his hair when he turned in what seemed in slow motion to face you- plump, pink lips spread into a warm smile, teeth whiter than the whites of your eyeballs, his skin was clearer than the windows, and the way your mouth watered at the sight of his broad shoulders- you are not sure if you even breathed for a straight minute. He welcomed you with kindness and surprisingly tolerated your indecisiveness on what to purchase, but inwardly you were trying all you could to remain in his presence because something about him reveled serenity. And you wanted every part of it.

Seeing Seokjin sparked slumbers of exuberant pink paths prodding beneath your dancing shoes that are clacking in the direction of the delightful smell of marshmellows where sky tower lollipops align the world with their colorful swirls glistening beneath the brightly lit sky without a sign of melting. Vines of licorice would twist along chocolate trunks with branches growing gummy-like leaves matching the scrumptious hues of your surroundings. Rainbows of hard candies trickled along the ground to decorate the view prompting the compulsion to sink your teeth into every delicacy especially when your eyes would cast upon the pastel colors of macarons- flavors of creams protruding between the slices. You would barely miss his silhouette exploring amongst a bed of gumdrops that sat a far distance from an enormous peppermint pinwheel breezing against stalks of blue and pink clouds of cotton candy.

Visions of prancing gummy bears decorate a mountain of frozen ice cream while gingerbread men scope the milky river to avoid being caught by the currents desperate to travel the terrain as you longed to with the man lost in this wonderland of a universe. Oreo crumbs trail on either side of the stream, the smell of chocolate wafts in your direction while you continue the journey. Humming to yourself, your adventure is to endeavor the red velvet island- cream cheese frosting fluffing in an appearance of frames of pictures of more delights as well as smeared professionally into an imagined ceiling. The deep red, walls caked firmly with countless desserts poised in different areas of the domain tempted tourists passing by into taking a bite of their delectable treats.

Nearing the entrance, you would pause, recognizing him pirouetting throughout the greenery resembling grass but is edible as everything made in this dream you are infatuated by. When the pang of something grasps your attention, you searched your eyes along the sky- not noticing anything right away and when you returned your glance to where you found him, he disappeared. Halted in curiosity, you gasp at the tap on your shoulder. Crescent eyes beaming while he brushes his fingers along your gleaming lips, and that’s when your fantasy would wonder the feel of his kiss. The taste of strawberries encompassed your tongue once you would lean into him, but when something else nickered your frame, you pulled away. In awe, you observe minuscule, circular sprinkles shower the two of you in surprise. They tangle within your hair while boisterous laughter escapes both of you simultaneously- palms rising above your head while you spin, attempting to catch them as they rain. Shuffling the sprinklings within your hands, you are in love with the resilient colors brightening the atmosphere as it heightened the happiness.

The dream that has become your most cherished- golden pinecones stick to floating silvery cotton where chocolate cupcakes with thick swirls of white icing blend with red, glistening ornaments- the aroma of fresh pastries with shiny, red jelly are enticed with powdered sugar; thistles of brush dangling above while you whirl around at the enchanting view. Polka dots beautify the walls imaging fondant icing while slithers of whipped cream dazzle the rest of the desserts present. It doesn’t take long before an existence melts behind you, wrapping his arms around your frame, plopping his chin onto your shoulder. It’s the sweetness of his countenance, the plush kiss he places on the corner of your jaw; the delicate aura you are scared can magically disappear; the delicious taste of his kiss when he twirls you to capture your lips, pinning you against another wall reflecting swirls of cinnamon, fingers pressing into your waist while your hands grip his plumy tufts in desperation for more. Sprinkles clang numerously within the walls miraculously not needing a sky to downpour; lips locked and lost in time, it finalizes the fantasy where you wake up with a dazed smile.

“Please tell me you’re not contemplating macarons again,” Seokjin’s voice breaks through the cloud of thoughts bringing you back to reality while you awkwardly suppress the burn of a blush flooding your chest. “I purposely withheld your favorite flavors in hopes of you trying something new.”

“Oh, you brute, I should have known!” You laugh, seeing his shoulders shake in response to his teasing toward you, “So new? Like, new new or never had before new? I um… You know, I was actually planning on trying something new today,” you do not mean to lie, but you kind of lie.

“You had every intention on getting your usuals, and I have bamboozled you.”

“Alright, sir, two can play at this game because I can always go to Hoseok’s bakery-”

“Okay now you’re just being cruel!” Seokjin’s laugh is your favorite sound as he chuckles. Hoseok is his competition but also his best friend, and he is aware that Hoseok has been gaining much success with the recent opening of his bakery, but of course your heart belongs with Seokjin and his glorious, scrumptious delicacies warm and inviting within the glass casings.

“It is called revenge, and I shall prevail.” You wink.

Shaking his head, he quiets but only enough before he lifts his gaze to yours once again, “Speaking of anything new, I think I may have something in mind that you might like actually. I’m preparing to add another dessert to the menu, but I need someone to taste test to make sure it’s good enough to sell to the general public. Would you like to be the judge?” Seokjin leans off the glass casing still smiling at you while your eyebrows shoot up in excitement.

“Hm,” you release a purposeful ponder, “When are you wanting to showcase?”

“How about on Valentine’s day itself? I will be closing the shop early and you can come by after hours. Besides, I don’t really have anything else to do, and when I get bored, I bake.”

Boldly, you tilt your head, a knowing smile budding on your lips, “Are you asking me on a date, Seokjin?”

“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t.” Your heart flutters in reaction to his tender grin that follows his words. You have dreamed for countless months to win this man’s affections and here you are, about to experience your first date with him on Valentine’s day of all days.

“Well, I guess I will see you this weekend,” you muse, “I have high expectations for whatever you create, Seokjin.” Turning on a heel, you shift ever so slightly to throw him a chirpy shrug. Outwardly, it is all a show of composure though your inner self is screaming in joyous bursts mirroring the fireworks going off beneath his chest.

When Valentine’s day comes, Seokjin goes all out in early hours of the morning before the shop opens, red streams curl from the walls where he carefully tapes them- red, pink, and white balloons hover along the ceiling to bring more colors and the very second, he closes for the day, he will paint the floor with a myriad of rose petals while candles flicker upon the tables sporadically. He wants to prove to you that he has been waiting for this moment for a long time and he will celebrate you every day if you let him. A bundle of dark red roses lay hidden in his office as well as a heart shaped box of what one would assume is the typical fill of chocolates, but nay, it is holding the surprise of your favorite macaron flavors, just to add to the dessert that he is elated to make. He begins his swift trek to the kitchen, collecting all the ingredients and sprawling them along the counter in preparation before the crowd sets in. And when they do, he serves the happy couples with all smiles, looking forward to whenever he gets to see you.

When the hour comes for the bakery to close, he rushes to finish up the pastry, pouring melted chocolate as the completing touch. “Perfect,” he whispers, protecting the sweets with a lid to maintain the heat. A soft knock on the door makes his heart skip a beat as he briefly flings his apron on the counter, dusting off any crumb excess off his clothes and ruffling his hair before throwing a mint in his mouth. Releasing a slow exhale, he smiles, “Operation, win her heart.”

Sauntering to the entrance, he pauses in awe. Your hair is styled flawlessly while the red, shimmery dress clings to your figure complimenting a pair of high heels. Makeup covers your face in an exceptional amount where the color of your eyes shine, once you see him- mouth ajar, eyes widening in reaction, he robotically opens the door to invite you in. The smell of roses and small hints of lemon reach your nostrils calming the anxiety quivering within your fingertips. Seokjin looks so handsome as he always does, the black turtleneck hugging his torso while the tan slacks hang slightly loose against his long legs. “You look amazing,” you murmur, him shaking his head to bring himself back to the present.

“I can say the exact same to you. You look… God, you look-”

“Proper? Trim? Elegant? …Alluring-”

“All of the above,” he says breathlessly, “But you always look so beautiful,”

Blushing at his compliment, it is hard for you to stay serious sometimes especially when you are nervous, so your eyes scan the décor of the building, “I love what you’ve done with the place,” you step forward with the click of a heel, noticing the rose petals glinting upon the mahogany colored floor.

“I was hoping you would say that.” he clears his throat, “But here, have a seat, I have the dessert ready as well as a few other surprises,” he skids a chair out for you as you descend in shock. Other surprises? He disappears but only for a few minutes before he confidently returns with a lidded case covering whatever it is, he has made just for you. His other hand hides behind his back as he effortlessly places the tray upon the table. “And walla,” he smirks, lifting the lid as your eyes enlarge at the golden brown pastries pressing against a truffle of cream, some protruding delicately on the sides as melted chocolate trickles from the pastry and onto the plate. The sight is so tasty, and you can feel your mouth watering as the smell of the treat becomes prevalent.

“What is this?” You say in uttermost anticipation as he chuckles at your readiness.

“Profiteroles,” he replies, “They are one of my absolute favorites, and I have been wanting to make them for some time but haven’t until now.”

“Try one with me,” you break eye contact with the mesmerizing profiteroles to stare into the chocolate of Seokjin���s eyes, “But after you reveal what is behind your back.”

When a hearty laugh brushes past his widened smile, you are beyond yourself when he gradually brings into your line of vision, a bundle of roses and a heart shaped box, “You are not allowed to open the box until you eat a profiterole though,” Seokjin playfully demands, “So until then, I will protect this box at all costs.”

“I promise I will not touch until you say so. You have my word,” you raise your hands in defense to add to your statement. Seokjin sits across from you, settling the gifts next to the plate. Soft music reverberates suddenly to drown the silence as you feel your heart flying- you are certain that no one has ever done anything as sweet as this for you.

“Are you ready?” He says, scooting the plate closer to you.

“Very ready,” reaching carefully, you grab the treat, knowing very well that you want to devour it whole, and when you do, the cream mingled with the chocolate melts on your tongue deliciously as you close your eyes hazy. “Oh, my word,” you breathe, wanting another one immediately. “This is delicious! You have met every expectation! Jin, customers are going to love these!” The nickname flew from your mouth so naturally and instead of verbally responding, Seokjin chortling a high pitch laugh, leans forward, reaching his thumb to swipe a spot of chocolate from the corner of your mouth. The gesture is so sweet, you can’t help but gaze at him as he returns his hand back to lay on the table. “Have you tried one yet?” You speak softly. “You should. You’re phenomenal.”

He swats the air, “I’ll have one later. Your opinion matters to me the most anyways,”

“You?” Speechless, your eyes flit between his, nothing but admiration falls from his stare. “How do you do it? How do you make my mind drift to the happiest of places? I swear you just- I can’t- it doesn’t matter where I am, I am not happy until I see you.”

Reaching across the table, he leans forward, intertwining his fingers with yours as cliché as a movie, but this is the only movie you are willing to watch where the fairytale of him is connecting with you. “That’s why I always made sure your usuals were made as soon as I arrived. I didn’t want to disappoint nor have you betray me for Hoseok. Plus, he prefers coconut macaroons, not macarons.”

“The distinction between how they are actually pronounced. Thank you for clarifying,” there is nobody that has made you laugh as much as he has. “In all seriousness though, I don’t think I’ve ever had anything to look forward to until I found you.”

“And I couldn’t focus unless I knew who you were and if I was going to see you again. That’s why I always made conversation no matter how small until time gave me enough courage to finally ask you to be here.”  

“Well, I am very glad that you asked.” Smiles linger while eyes remain connected. He has the most eloquent, gentle manly charm and you hope he will end up being your eventual forever one day.

“Come here,” In one flawless swoop, Seokjin reaches for the arm of your chair, sliding it closer to where your legs touch. Surprised laughter serenades his ears once the chair is paused, but the nearness of him sends tingles along your skin. A faint scent of cologne grips to his clothes igniting the further desire building from the crave on your lips. He leans in, you meeting halfway to close the gap in the softest brush of his kiss. Sunlight exposes through the windows to illuminate in response to the magic happening right now in this moment. Linking your arms behind his neck, he wraps his around you, tugging you closer, deepening the kiss- getting so lost in you that nothing else outside of this bakery matters- only you matter.

Feeling his smile within his kiss, you pull away but still close enough to feel his breath swiping your chin, you giggle, “So what’s in the box?”

“I guess you’ll have to see,” he presses a quick, giddy kiss. You squeezing him once ecstatically.

“Okay, but first, let me get some more sugar.” You move your palms to squish his cheeks to where his lips pucker. “I don’t know about you, but I like it brutal.” And with that, you kiss him again, letting destiny complete its story on a day you never dreamed would mean so much.

[lardguz]

The Aegis's Master Plan

I'm posting this story from the mobile app because I can't access my laptop until later today, but! I've been chipping away at this stupid story for months now, I started it way before the last story I posted. I kind of wrote myself into a corner by getting both Mal//os and J//in at sizes I had never really written before and then... Kept going. So it took me a really, really long time and lots of writers block to finally figure out how to finish it. But, I did! I think. I can't remember if I ever like, wrapped the story properly because the file is so goddamn big. ^^;

Regardless, I hope you guys enjoy two very homoerotic antagonists stuffing each others faces!

The Monoceros. A huge mechanical marvel of a warship, unlike any other that the nations of Alrest used for their transport. This metal beast of a ship didn’t rely on Titans to move, instead roaming the Cloud Sea unfettered by any lifeform. Within the black metal armor of the craft lay the secret base of the Blade terrorist group, New Torna. The leader of the ragtag group, the Flesh Eater named Jin, was currently preoccupied with matters other than freeing Blades and Core Crystals from those who would abuse them.

 

The long-haired man stood in the Monoceros’s kitchen, cooking up a storm. Three serving carts piled high already with his culinary crafts, he was working on loading up the fourth and final cart with the last of the dishes he had planned for the evening. This much food was usually only prepared for huge feasts for royalty, or small armies, but Jin had only one dining partner this evening. Said dining partner was currently heckling him from outside in the mess hall.

 

“Hey, Jin! How much longer is dinner gonna take, anyways?! You’d think 500 years of perfecting your technique would make you cook faster than the average human child, hah!” called the loud, brash voice of Malos, the Aegis himself, and Jin’s second-in-command in leading New Torna.

The white-haired Blade groaned as he plated some Gormotti Sashimi, and called back in an even tone that didn’t betray his frustration with his partner. “I’m almost done, Malos, would you please be patient? You requested a lot more food than I am generally used to preparing at once.”

“Well, what can I say?,” the sarcastic voice bellowed back, “Regaining my full Aegis powers made me really damned hungry. And you do not want to be on my bad side when I’m hungry, so HURRY IT UP.”

Jin sighed and resigned himself to his position, when a brilliant idea struck. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pouch. The quiet man had stolen this appetite-enhancement powder out of the barracks of the Ardainain warship he had stormed on his own a while back. Some private must have stashed it away to help gain muscle mass in training exercises. Maybe I could use this to get back at Malos for all the shit he’s constantly putting me through… thought Jin. Without missing a beat, he opened the pouch and began sprinkling its contents liberally over every single dish he had prepared for the evening. His cunning plan now in motion, Jin began wheeling the massive feast out to the dining hall, where Malos sat waiting for him.

 

 The darkly-armored Blade sat reclined in his wooden chair, his boots kicked up on the banquet table. He sneered as Jin began putting all the beautiful dishes he’d spent all day cooking on the table. “So this is the best food Alrest has to offer, huh? Certainly doesn’t look like much, Jin. You sure this will please an Aegis like me?” Jin nodded, respectfully and impassive, refusing to reveal his intentions with his expression. Malos chuckled, and pulled a plate of Ruska Dumplings toward himself. “Guess I’ll just have to see for myself, then!” Grasping a dumpling in his armored hand, he popped it into his mouth, chewing contemplatively. His eyes opened slowly, and he spoke around the dumpling. “Hey, that’s not half bad. I think I’ll eat the rest of these if you don’t mind, Jin.”

 

“No, go ahead, Malos. Feel free to enjoy until you’re satisfied.” Jin responded softly, as he began moving some more of the plates within reach of the hungry Aegis. He observed silently as Malos demolished the plate of dumplings and immediately moved onto the next dish, a plate of grilled salmon with herbs, without even making any of his usual sarcastic comments. That powder really shut him up, Jin silently mused, when he noticed something else. It seemed like his appetite wasn’t the only thing the powder was effecting. The Aegis’s once-strong and muscular body seemed to be growing softer before Jin’s very eyes. As Malos polished off the salmon and moved onto a plate of Cinnopon Rolls, some of the armor plating his body snapped off and clattered to the floor, allowing his partner to get a better look at his growth.

 

The first thing Jin noticed was that Malos’s stomach was much, much larger than it was before. The soft, flabby mass was resting comfortably on his thighs, the stretchy bodysuit he wore under his armor not doing anything to hold it back. His thighs were also softening considerably, and Jin couldn’t resist pinching the plush fat that now coated them, nodding approvingly as his fingers sunk in about two inches deep. The Aegis’s ass, once well-toned and round, was now squarish in shape, the cheeks losing their form and squishing into the back of the dining chair, threatening to droop off the edges along with his fat thighs if he kept up the rate he was devouring his solo feast. His arms were also getting bigger and softer, and his formerly toned pecs were now budding into a magnificent pair of breasts, resting comfortably atop his growing gut. His Core Crystal was nestled comfortably between each moob, and Jin wondered how visible it would be in a few hours. Malos’s face, which not long ago was rather sharp and intimidating, now undeniably had a certain rounded softness to it, his cheeks puffing out just a little bit, and a double chin peeking out any time he chewed on his food. Jin began massaging his boyfriend’s shoulders softly, feeling the fat between his fingers and getting an unexpected thrill of delight from it. He realized this was no longer about payback, but wanting to get his partner as big as he possibly could, and knowing he was an Aegis, that was probably a pretty high ceiling to reach.

 

Jin leaned forward to whisper in Malos’s ear from where he stood behind the growing Blade. “Are you enjoying the meal, Malos?” he asked softly. Malos laughed around a mouthful of roasted poultry. “Hah! What, can’t you tell? This food is suiting my needs just fine, Jin. Why, d’you want some too?”

Jin hesitated. “Oh, no, I’m fine. I made this all especially for you, remember?”

Malos nodded, taking another massive bite of the drumstick in front of his face. “Yeah, yeah, I know. But I feel like you really earned this, ya know?” The Aegis chuckled darkly as he made his move.

 

With alarming speed for one as fat as he was, Malos spun around in his chair and grabbed both Jin’s wrists, forcing him to the floor. Jin let out a yell of surprise that was cut short as Malos landed on top of him, his massive weight pinning him and knocking the wind out of his lungs. Malos smirked deviously. “You really thought I didn’t notice the food was off?! You idiot, I’m the Master Blade, of course I noticed you messed with my food! Which means…” Malos reached for a plate of Lovemerry Cake, grabbing a fistful of the sweet confection and shoving it into Jin’s open mouth. “You’re gonna be enjoying this lovely meal with me, Jin! It’s just not fair for you to not get to taste your own delightful cooking too, after all! If I’m gonna be a total fatass, I’m taking you down with me, asshole.” After shoving the entire cake, handful by handful, into Jin’s desperately resisting mouth, Malos hoisted his bulk off of his boyfriend, delighted to see a slight bulge of a new tummy growing on the Flesh Eater’s abdomen. Jin shakily rose from the floor and automatically made his way towards the other end of the banquet table, pulling the nearest plates close to him and immediately digging in without comment. Malos snorted and sat back down in his seat, the wood creaking under his already sizable ass. “I’m not letting you upstage me in this one, though, Jin. You’re never gonna outgrow an Aegis.”

 

The two men feasted in silence, the only sounds the scraping of silverware on plates, the loud smacking of lips, and frantic chewing as the appetite enhancing powder caused their stomachs to scream for more and more food. Jin was mostly gaining weight in his lower half, his titanic thigh rolls and enormous ass cheeks seemingly swallowing his wooden dining chair whole, their flab overflowing and dangling over its edges easily. His gut, which was still large but not nearly as big as his beanbag-sized cheeks, oozed over his tree trunk thick thighs, seeping between them and forcing them further and further apart. The white-haired Blade’s clothes were ripping at the seams all over his growing form, as he stared across the table at his partner. Malos was a Blade of his word, to be sure, and was not letting Jin catch up to his growth at all. The massive man had surpassed a double chin and had moved to triple, his cheeks starting to droop into fat-laden jowls that ruined his once-menacing expressions. His neck was lost under a ring of fat that looked like a small tire around his face. Malos must have fully burst out of his bodysuit a while ago, his mountainous bulk no longer able to be contained within its confines. His breasts sagged down either side of his triple-decker gut, each one larger than any female Blade’s boobs in existence. His arms were covered with jiggling fat that drooped off his biceps, slapping heavily against his numerous side rolls and his moobs every time he brought food up to his fat mouth. His gut was split into three rolls, which cascaded down his front and pooled in his wide lap. The dark Aegis’s flabby gut was definitely his largest asset, even the topmost roll large enough for a Tirkin to sleep on comfortably after only a few hours of feasting. The middle and bottom rolls split where his belly button once was, the fat from the middle roll folding over it and making a crevasse that would only get larger and deeper the more he ate. His meaty love handles stuck out to the sides of his massive belly, the side rolls they formed impeding him from placing his pillowy arms straight down at his sides, forcing them to rest at an angle in the brief moments he wasn’t stuffing food into his greedy maw. While his lower half wasn’t nearly as large as Jin’s would be when he eventually caught up to his current weight, Malos’s lard-laden ass and dimpled thighs still overflowed out of the tiny wooden chair he was in. He actually registered in his mind that his enormous asscheeks were almost definitely stuck in said chair, which was creaking and groaning constantly under his prodigious behind. He suddenly had an idea to keep the chair inevitably breaking under him from being an issue and heaved himself onto his feet.

 

Malos waddled his way out of the mess hall, leaving Jin behind to continue eating on his own. The round Aegis had to shuffle his massive thighs past each other with each step, the inner rolls rubbing against each other no matter how far apart he kept his legs. The lowest roll of his stomach slapped against his knees as he wandered around the halls of the Monoceros, looking for any of the other Torna members. Unfortunately for Malos, the first one he found was the one he least wanted to see right now.

 

Mikhail, the blonde skirt-chasing scoundrel of their group, was leaning against a terminal, punching something in on the keyboard. Hearing the huffing breaths coming from a bit of a ways down the hall, he turned toward the noise's source and saw Malos’s morbidly obese form and couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement. “Whoaaaah, Malos?! What happened to you? You look like you must’ve ate an entire Ardun by yourself!” Malos groaned. “Mikhail, please. For once in your life, shut the fuck up.”

Mikhail looked playfully hurt by this statement, and cried back in response, “Boss, I’m hurt! I was just saying you look even bigger than last time I saw you! Why are you being so mean to m—GAAAH!!” The blonde man didn’t get to finish his sentence as Malos made his move, pushing his entire body against Mikhail’s and using his massive gut to pin the smaller man to the wall. He leaned his blubbery face in close to Mikhail’s and snarled, “I told you. To shut. The fuck. Up. Got it?” Mik nodded, his cheeks flushing bright pink as he felt Malos’s body enveloping his own. “Good. Now here’s what I need you to do. Go grab two benches from the storage room. The ones meant to sit four people. Bring them to the mess hall as fast as possible, or so help me, I will crush you like the worm you are, got it?”

 

By the time Malos managed to waddle his way back to the mess hall, the benches had already been brought in, and Jin was planted firmly in his. To Malos’s disgust, he realized that Jin had surpassed him in size while he was gone. The white-haired Blade’s enormous, shapeless ass was already starting to get close to overflowing the bench he was sat upon, with the fat of his massive thighs making his legs look roughly the size of a particularly old Puzzlewood tree from Gormott. Malos moved as fast as his overburdened legs could take him to his bench and began stuffing food into his face at double speed, chewing frantically to make sure his boyfriend didn’t end up larger than him. They kept feasting long into the night, even after the benches shattered beneath their respective bulks, leaving them to shift their nearly-immobile bodies onto the table so they could continue reaching the food with their fattened hands. Being Blades, and incredibly powerful ones at that, they retained movement in their arms for much longer than most, long past when they both were immobilized by their own corpulence. Their multitude of chins and neck rolls blended seamlessly into each other, their drooping jowls wobbling and smacking loudly every time they chewed, and their cheeks so fat that they started to impede their vision slightly. Their massive moobs pressed into their neck rolls, giving the impression that their faces were sinking slowly into their own fat. The only thing hindering their powerful Blade arms from accessing food readily was the fact that their fattened hands were starting to sink into their fat as well, their flabby pillows of arm fat starting to absorb them at the wrists. Their legs had already done the same to their feet, the dimpled lard of their calves already collapsing over their ankles about an hour ago, preventing either of them from being able to even waddle ever again. Even if their feet were visible, though, they wouldn’t be able to touch the ground. Even Malos’s comparably small ass was still a veritable mountain of adipose, lifting him off the ground by about half a foot already, each cheek the size of a couch and steadily spreading out under him. His massive gut spread even further, its numerous rolls spreading out underneath him as he strained his overencumbered arms to try and reach the dishes that were closer towards the middle of the banquet table. Jin’s gut was nowhere near as huge as Malos’s, but his massive ass cheeks pushed him about a foot and a half off the ground, making it just as difficult for his fat-covered arms to reach the tantalizing feast near the center of the table. Both Blades soon surrendered, wobbling futilely as they fell back, unable to move anymore due to the lard encasing their once-powerful bodies.

 

Malos was wheezing for breath, the strain of leaning forward even too much for him now. His boyfriend was in a similar state, face flushed crimson as he huffed to regain his composure. The Aegis breathlessly spoke to Jin from where they both sat with the table and its forbidden meal between them. “H-hey, Jin. I think… haah… we might need… huff… to ask some of th-the others… haah… for h—urp, help… finishing this.”

Jin tried to nod in agreement, but with his face and neck caked in fat the way they were, all he could manage was wobbling his face fat instead. “Yeah, th-that sounds… huff… like our b-best… haah, haah… option, Malos. Should I… hnngh… call for them?”

Malos only belched in response, which Jin decided to take as a “yes”, and he sent out a mental signal to Mikhail and Akhos to come to the banquet hall at once. As soon as they both arrived, to quell any sass or small talk from the two particularly condescending Flesh Eaters, Malos cast a quick Monado Enchant on them and gave them their new instructions: to feed himself and Jin the rest of the many plates of food on the table in silence. Akhos immediately moved to grab plates and began climbing his way up to where Jin’s face was being slowly buried in between his breasts and back rolls, while Mikhail did the same for Malos’s mountainous form.

 

The two men continued to grow and grow the more they were fed, their hands now long ago absorbed into their arms’ fat rolls. Malos’s titanic stomach overtook the table, crushing it underneath its enormous weight. Thankfully Mikhail and Akhos had already moved the remaining plates onto the guts of their two leaders, which had long since become large enough to be used as a table anyways. Jin, with five crab skewers in his fat mouth at once, realized that he could feel his rear pressing against something, but since his face was so sunken into his own fat, he couldn’t even begin to move his head to see. Even if he could turn his head, all he would have seen was his boulder-sized ass cheeks and his cascading rolls of back fat that led down to them. His gut, while smaller than his partner’s, was still enormous, and was slowly getting pushed under Malos’s much larger and more expansive stomach rolls. The Aegis currently was having an entire four-tiered cake shoved into his mouth piece by piece and loving every second, reveling in feeling every inch of his flab creeping further and further across the room. He felt more powerful than he had ever felt in his life as the Aegis.

 

After hours and hours of feeding and eating, finally, the two Torna leaders were finished with their feast, and sat in the aftermath of their massive gain. The only thing Jin could see past his flabby cheeks that took up most of his vision was the ceiling directly above him, as everything else he could see was his own soft pale flesh. His miniscule face was nestled deeply between a valley of his massive jowls, his flabby back rolls, and his cascading chins and neck fat. His breasts sat atop his enormous gut, each one larger than the table that he originally placed the feast on was before it was crushed under his and Malos’s combined weight. The rings of fat next to his breasts that were once his arms contained no signs of once being able to wield a katana expertly, now uselessly huge with his fingers and hands swallowed up beneath the rolls of adipose covering them. His gut was mostly eclipsed by Malos’s enormous stomach rolls, but Jin’s ass and thighs were his biggest asset by far, both of which were so massively obese that they spread across the room and pressed firmly against the metal walls and ceiling of the Monoceros’s mess hall, threatening to crush them under the weight of his titanic ass fat if he ate any more food.

 

Malos was in a similar state, though he had definitely surpassed Jin in sheer size. Not that it really made a difference when both Blades were huge enough to fill the entire mess hall between them. Malos’s blob of a body towered over Jin’s, his wobbling mountain of a gut covering almost every inch of his side of the room and squishing up against Jin’s comparably-smaller stomach rolls, waves of pillowy flab spreading all over. The Aegis’s core crystal was nestled between his two boulder-sized moobs, still perfectly present despite the sea of soft fat around it. Malos’s face, however, was much less visible, the once-sharp and intimidating features now buried between enormous flabby jowls, rippling chins and neck rolls, and hefty rolls of back fat that already threatened to crash over onto his face. The black haired man wiggled his fingers from where he could feel them buried under the incredible amounts of lard that coated his arms, chuckling deeply as he realized he could still move them despite his hands being absorbed into his arm fat hours ago. Suddenly, his core began glowing with a purple light that enveloped the fat rolls that were once his arms, which then flowed over to his partner, Jin, covering his entire corpulent form with a glow of dark energy.

Jin groaned as his body started wobbling, every fold and roll rippling and slapping against each other loudly. Suddenly, the light dissipated, and the white haired Blade felt… strange. He almost felt lighter, despite being thousands of pounds overweight now. He squinted his icy blue eyes, trying to peer past his overfed cheeks to look at his boyfriend, Malos. He could make out the pale blob that was now the Aegis’s body across from him, and he heard deep, almost maniacal laugher coming from the mound of flab, which sent the entire expanse of fat wobbling all over.  Malos spoke, his voice deepened significantly by all the fat caking his neck, and his words slurred from his incredibly flabby cheeks and pudgy lips making talking all the more difficult.

“Sho… Jhin… Hah doesh ih—hnnnnhhhh—feeuhl… tuh hahve—nnnnghhh—th’ pohwehsh… ohf an Aegish…?” Malos had to pause frequently to wheeze between words, the weight of his body making speaking and breathing at the same time a difficulty. Jin grunted in confusion. What did he mean, the powers of an Aegis? Malos laughed again, his drooping breasts wobbling like pendulums with each booming sound. “Youh… hahven'… fihgurhed ih—haaaaah… haaaahhh…-- ouht? Shtahnd… uhp… Jhin… an’ cohme… tuh meh…” The Aegis stopped talking, opting instead to gasp for breath, exhausted from exerting himself by just talking for a few seconds. Jin sat there in shock, wondering how the hell Malos expected him to stand up at his size. But then he remember that he did feel lighter somehow after Malos did whatever it was he just did, so the Blade attempted to move his presumed-useless legs.

 

Jin was surprised to find that his legs did in fact move, and he was easily able to shift his room-wide bulk into a standing position somehow. The resulting movement of his enormous rear end slapped both hills of lard into the wall of the dining hall, making the entire room echo with the sound of their bulk clapping against the cold metal. Jin hesitantly began shuffling his bloblike body towards his boyfriend’s immobile form, inching his carriage-sized legs past each other painfully slowly, the entire expanse of his body rippling with every slight move he made. His stomach, leg rolls, and ass cheeks all dragged along the floor, making the journey all the more difficult even with the strength of an Aegis making it possible for him to move at his incredible size. Eventually, Jin stood at the base of Mount Malos. He heard his boyfriend’s voice, smug as ever even with the weight affecting his speech, echoing from above him. “Haaaaah… ekshellehnt… Naoh… Ah—hnnnngh—neehd youh… tuh… clihmb uhp—hhhhhnnn—tuh mah… mouff…” Jin grunted in confirmation, moving his fat-swaddled arm rolls experimentally. They responded to his movements despite being disgustingly overfed, his hands still buried under their rolls, but it was enough for Jin to be able to climb the massive, wobbling expanse of Malos’s stomach rolls. It made for very slippery going, with one not-insignificantly smaller blob of a man climbing another one. Jin’s oversized arms and legs sank deep into Malos’s soft belly, the leader of New Torna feeling like he was going to fall into a crevasse of body folds and never be found again. Their fatty bodies slapped against each other loudly as Jin slowly ascended, every inch of their bodies shifting endlessly with waves of movement. Finally, Jin found his blob of a body perched atop Malos’s chest, gazing into his boyfriend’s cold gray eyes, surrounded by the sea of fat covering his entire face. Malos grinned, his eyes almost disappearing behind the creases of fat that formed when he did so. “Sho… naishe—haaaah—tuh shee yuh… agaihn… shekshy—hnnnngh—Reahdy tuh… fihnush thish?” The Aegis said, looking almost ecstatic that his plan had progressed this far, whatever it was. Jin nodded, or did as close to a nod as he could manage at his size. Malos explained through wheezing breaths that the true power of an Aegis granted him the ability to make whatever he wanted reality. He had given Jin some of that power to help make him bigger than any Titan or even the World Tree itself, so that he could fulfill his desire to destroy Alrest by crushing it beneath his own continental sized body. Jin agreed, lifting his sagging arm rolls and conjuring a flow of food to enter Malos’s waiting mouth. The Aegis moaned in satisfaction, readily gulping down anything that came near his greedy maw.

 

Rex and his companions were visiting his hometown of Fonsett Village to recuperate after their last encounter with New Torna. The Driver of the other Aegis, Mythra, sat on the overlook that he and his friends from the village had jumped off of into the Cloud Sea an uncountable number of times, watching the sun set as it bathed the clouds in a golden glow. Rex heard footsteps in the grass behind him and turned to see who was approaching. His eyes met those of the Gormotti Driver, Nia, who he’d been traveling with since the very beginning of his journey. The brown-haired boy grinned at her and patted the grass next to him. “Oh, hey there, Nia! C’mon, come sit and watch the sunset with me! Fonsett has the best sunsets you’ve ever seen!”

Nia scoffed, rolling her yellow eyes, her cat ears twitching with amusement at the boy’s enthusiasm. “I swear, Rex, yet such a kid sometimes! But, sure, why not? Sunsets ain’t really a thing I ever got tae enjoy much in my life.” She sat down next to him, crossing her legs beneath her and placing her hands on her knees.

Rex looked over at her, examining the look of quiet concern on the girl’s face as she stared at the clouds below. He piped up gently. “Nia, is something the matter? You look like somethin’s botherin’ you.” She closed her eyes and smiled wryly before responding. “Aye, nothin’ gets past ye, does it, Rex? I was thinkin’ about Malos and Jin.”

Rex tilted his head a little in confusion. “Jin and Malos? Why? Are you worried about ‘em or something? Do you miss ‘em?”

“Miss ‘em?! Pfft!” Nia snorted, “Of course I don’t miss ‘em, they were a right couple’a tossers. I was jus’ thinkin’ that somethin’ don’t seem right. I feel like they might be up tae nae good. I just feel somethin’… off in the air I guess? Somethin’… big?”

Rex clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth a few times before replying. “You know, I was thinking the exact same thing earlier. I feel something off in the air, too. Like the flow of ether energy in the air is… growing? Or maybe shrinking? I dunno. But maybe you might be right, and it’s something to do with them.”

Nia was about to theorize some more when she stopped, her ears perking as she looked off on the horizon. “Oi, Rex, d’ye see that there off in the distance?” She pointed to a large shape flying high above the Cloud Sea. Rex looked, squinting to see it better as it was so far away. “Is that… The Monoceros?!” He exclaimed in shock. Nia nodded. “Aye, that’s what I thought, too. Doesn’t it look a little off tae ye, though?”

Rex peered at the battle ship of New Torna and realized it looked… misshapen. The metal hull seemed to be bulging weirdly in places, and it also seemed like its flight path was sinking slowly, like something was weighing it down from within. “That’s odd. Why’s it look like that, do you reckon, Nia?” The girl shrugged. Rex looked back and noticed, now that it was a little closer, that some of the metal plating of the hill was coming apart at the seams, and something pale and soft was oozing out of the gaps. One panel fell off entirely, and in its place burst out a wobbling pillow of soft material, almost like a bubble of some kind. The two young Drivers looked at each other in confusing and worry as they watched the Monoceros fall apart piece by piece as it sunk closer and closer to the clouds below, revealing more and more of the strange, pale mass contained within the ship. “That definitely wasn’t there when I was still with Torna…” Nia murmured, “What the ‘Ell is goin’ on…”

 

Suddenly, the air was split with the shriek of breaking metal, as the entire remains of the Monoceros burst open, sending two indistinct shapes, one at least twenty times larger than the other, plummeting into the Cloud Sea. The smaller blob-shaped object landed on top of the much larger one with a resounding meaty slap, sending rippling shockwaves all over its form. The enormous wobbling mass floated suspended in the clouds, while Nia and Rex tried to figure out what it was. That was when they realized the shape was growing larger at an alarming rate. Rex looked at Nia, his eyes panicked. “Uh, Nia? We should probably evacuate everyone in Fonsett to safety. Whatever that thing is, it’s getting bigger by the second!” Nia nodded and the two ran off to the village to gather everyone together.

 

Jin sat on top of his boyfriend’s uncountable chins and neck rolls, thrilling in the feeling of his own massive expanse of rolls sinking into the even softer and ever-growing fat of the Aegis himself. One wouldn’t even be able to tell the acres of soft, pale flab were a Blade unless they got very, very close. Malos was completely unrecognizable, any semblance of a humanoid form long buried beneath tons upon tons of adipose. His gigantic mountain of stomach rolls spread for miles and miles across the Cloud Sea, blanketing the thick, puffy clouds with even thicker, softer, heavier fat rolls. Malos’s monumentally sized ass cheeks, each one now bigger than any inhabitable Titan, stretched out behind him for almost as far as his incredible gut did. The mounds of adipose that were once his legs were ringed with soft, dimpled fat rolls, completely unrecognizable as anything that once resembled a leg. His piles of pudgy love handles had reached the hundreds now, looking like a stack of floppy pancakes leading up to his enormous chest. Malos’s breasts were astonishingly huge, large enough to crush the entirety of Alba Cavanich under just one of them easily, each one weighing at least over ten tons. His face was barely visible anymore, between the boulder-sized jowls drooping down the sides of his face and impeding his vision greatly, his rings of hundreds of flabby, wobbling chins and neck rolls, and the cascade of back fat that was crashing down on his face from above. The Aegis’s mouth was constantly occupied with an endless deluge of fattening foods conjured up by Jin’s new powers, Malos’s mouth constantly stretched to its limits by the sheer amount of dishes crammed between his overfed cheeks,. He had no time to talk anymore, not when he was eating constantly to grow larger and larger and eventually crush all of Alrest beneath his massive blob of a body, but then again, why would he ever want to waste time talking? Becoming the largest Blade in all of Alrest was truly a calling worthy of the Master Blade himself.

[hotpinkhoshi]

let me (m) | park chanyeol

pairing: park chanyeol x f! reader

genre: little angst, fluff, smut

word count: 2.5k

summary: after a rough day in the studio, chanyeol knows a surefire way to make himself feel better. 

a/n: umm hi everybody! i know this may not be what you’re used to or what you expected if you haven’t been following my blog. i’ve been captured by park chanyeol, and i’m still coming to terms with it but i desperately wanted to try to write a cute fluffy drabble for him. it ended up at 2.5k and a little smutty. also, i haven’t been writing as much as i’d like to lately, so... forgive me if you can tell that i’m a bit rusty!

You first noticed something was off when Chanyeol was quiet entering your shared apartment. Normally, he’d be calling out for you or for Toben, or perhaps singing softly to himself. More often than not, he was in an exceptional mood when he got off work and finally came home to you. 

But today was different. Chanyeol simply walked through the front door and locked it behind him, setting his keys onto the wooden table set up in the entryway. You stood in the kitchen, halfway done chopping up the veggies you needed for tonight’s dinner. Toben was curled under the kitchen table, more than happy to be left on his own with his favorite stuffed toy. 

“Yeol? Is that you?” you called, after noticing that he didn’t greet you as normal. 

“It’s me,” came his reply, his tone low and without inflection. 

You listened as his slippered steps carried through the apartment into the kitchen, setting your knife down and wiping your hands on a towel. When you turned to look at Chanyeol, you could read it all over his face. 

Chanyeol didn’t often have bad days. He had long days, tiring days that drained his energy near his breaking point, but he rarely had days that had his mouth fixed into a frown and a crease settling deep between his brows. Today seemed to be one of those days. 

“Oh, babe,” you said, your own mouth turning down into a sympathetic pout. “What happened?”

Something about the way he looked, ears sticking out from under his beanie, enormous hoodie draped over half his body, and his pink house slippers just made you want to melt into a puddle. The pathetic, yet adorable expression was just the cherry on top. 

“Mmph,” he grunted, closing the distance between your bodies to wrap his arms around your waist. He ducked down, burying his head into your neck. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he mumbled as you circled your arms around his torso. 

The whine in his voice let you know that whatever had him so pouty was nothing serious. More than likely, it was a particularly difficult day in the studio, one of those sessions where nothing seemed to come out right.

You stood there for as long as he needed you to, letting his warmth envelop you completely. Bit by bit, you felt some of the tension leave his body. No words were needed as he relished in the comfort that your presence brought him. 

“Baby,” he finally said, pressing a sweet kiss to your neck. “Can dinner wait? Kinda just want to cuddle with you for a while.” 

Years into your relationship, and he could still make your heart swell as if you were still in the midst of falling in love. Even something as simple as a kiss, expertly placed right at your sweet spot, was enough to have your pulse racing. 

“Of course,” you answered, arms sliding around to his front so you could clasp his hands in yours. Once he’d pulled away enough for you to see his face, you leaned up on your tip toes to place a kiss to the freckle on his nose. 

You let Chanyeol lead you back to the bedroom where he didn’t bother flipping the light switch, just tugged you to the bed. After he flopped onto his stomach, you stifled a giggle and climbed in after him, snuggling up to his side. 

In the process of maneuvering into the desired cuddling position, Chanyeol’s beanie slipped off to reveal his wildly messy hair, making him look all the more kissable. Especially with that little pout and puppy dog eyes he was giving you. 

“How was your day?” he asked softly. He had scooted down the bed, his face resting against your stomach as his arms looped around your waist. 

You shrugged and rested your hands on his broad shoulders. “It was good. Missed you, though,” you told him honestly. 

Chanyeol chuckled, his breath tickling your stomach where your shirt had ridden up. “I always miss you.” 

“Yeah?” you asked. 

“Mm. Can you play with my hair?” 

Your lips quirked into a smile as you slipped a hand up the nape of his neck into the soft waves of his hair. The man might have been a head taller than you and be able to pick you up as if you weighed nothing, but he had no shame asking for you to rub his back or play with his hair when he couldn’t sleep, or needed some extra comfort. 

“Is everything okay?” you whispered. 

Chanyeol hummed, eyes still closed, and you felt his shoulders shrug. “Just wasn’t a good day. Thought I could finish the song today but I just couldn’t get it right.” 

You could hear the disappointment in his voice, directed at himself alone. He was hard on himself when his creativity didn’t cooperate with his plans, and you absolutely understood. In his industry, he was constantly working towards a deadline no matter how inspired or drained he was feeling. 

“I’m sorry baby.” You slid your fingers through his hair, petting the back of his head softly. Chanyeol brought you closer and nuzzled into your tummy, his eyelashes tickling your skin. 

“S’okay,” he whispered. 

A few minutes of silence passed between the two of you, just enjoying each other’s company in the quiet of the home that you shared together. Your eyes fell shut after a while, though your fingers continued to card through Chanyeol’s hair. 

Just as you were nearly drifting off, you barely registered the feeling of his body shifting, ever so slightly. Then he was pushing your shirt up, revealing a larger expanse of your torso. 

Goosebumps formed as Chanyeol pressed his lips against your skin, soft and featherlight. You shivered, your eyes fluttering open. 

“Yeol.”

“Yeah?” 

“What’cha doing?” 

You felt him smile mid-kiss. “Mm, I’m just cuddling.”

Running your tongue over your teeth, you stifled a gasp when his touch traveled lower, dangerously close to the waistband of your leggings. 

“Baby,” you whispered, lifting your head to stare down at him. 

You were met with a mischievous stare, that glint in his eye telling you everything you needed to know. Maybe he’d had a bad day, but Chanyeol was a man that knew what he wanted. There was usually little to no room for persuading him otherwise. 

“What? You don’t like it?” 

A kiss under your bellybutton had you swallowing instead of answering at first, the movement of your fingers in his hair coming to a halt. 

“Oh, no, I do. I just… didn’t think you’d be in the mood. For this.” 

Chanyeol only hummed and shook his head, dragging his lips down even lower. His arms untangled from under your body, big hands traveling along your sides, warming you up with his touch. 

“Can I?”

His voice was quiet, a seemingly innocent question. If you had answered no, that you simply weren’t in the mood or you were too tired, you knew he would back off. But for him, the answer was always yes. 

At first, you’d been embarrassed how quickly he could have you spreading for him, folds dripping with arousal and voice begging for him to touch you. But Chanyeol had quickly shown that you had no reason to be bashful around him. 

“Mhm,” you replied, hips lifting as your leggings were peeled from your legs. “But I wanna make you feel better.”

Chanyeol looked up at you then, his big eyes twinkling with stars and the sweetest smile on his lips. “Trust me, this will make me feel better.” 

His smile was so contagious that you found yourself laughing softly, fingers trailing down to the tips of his ears. You squeezed the cartilage playfully and wiggled your hips as warmth traveled through your entire body. 

As always, Chanyeol took his time. He liked to build you up, make you quiver for him and beg, before finally diving in and giving you what you wanted. It drove you insane in the most glorious way. 

You got comfy, enjoying the gentle kisses he was peppering onto your stomach and hips, his hands gripping your sides to hold you in place. At this point, he knew your body and the way you liked to be handled. He knew you loved when he put his hands on you and handled you however he pleased. 

“Legs up,” he whispered, at the same time he scooted down the bed until his head was between your thighs. 

You obeyed, lifting each of your legs to hook them over his shoulders. When Chanyeol went down on you, he liked to press as close to you as he could, have your thighs pressing so tightly into his face that you could feel each clench of his jaw. And you couldn’t complain. 

“My pretty girl,” Chanyeol muttered, as if to himself, as he leaned in to kiss your thighs. 

“Do you have to tease?” you asked, huffing softly and jerking your hips. Just ten minutes ago, you hadn’t been in the mood in the slightest, and now he had you squirming and praying for him to get on with it. 

Chanyeol chuckled, the deep tone sending tingles down to your fingertips. “I just wanna enjoy you. Is that okay?” 

It was a sweet sentiment, but you knew him well enough to know that it was mostly because he wanted to drive you crazy. “I guess.” 

For a few more minutes, Chanyeol dragged it out, though you were grateful when he pulled back briefly to remove your underwear. His kisses got closer and closer to the place you needed him most and you found yourself breathing heavier, pulse racing with anticipation. 

“Baby,” you started to whine, just as Chanyeol flattened his tongue to lick a stripe up your center. You gasped, then groaned, fingers digging back into his hair to squeeze tightly. 

The act encouraged him. He delved in and got to work, latching his mouth around your clit while flicking his tongue back and forth at a quick, practiced pace. You were loud, now, your moans and whimpers echoing throughout the apartment. 

Chanyeol alternated between sucking and licking your clit, all while he held your thighs around his shoulders, his fingers digging into your flesh to keep you in place.

“Right there, oh-” you whined. “Feels so good, Yeol, you’re so good…” 

Maybe this was why he had been so adamant about tending to you, rather than letting you take care of him. As much as you wanted to get on your knees for him and cheer him up, you knew he needed this. He needed to be reminded that he was a man, capable of anything, including making you come with just his mouth. 

Words were tumbling from your lips, praises of his mouth and his tongue, the way he was making you feel, and how much you loved him. It seemed the more you egged him on, the faster he went, the more determined he was to send you towards your peak. 

You lifted your head and stared down at him because you loved to watch, and you were not disappointed. Chanyeol’s face was buried between your thighs but his eyes, they were open, staring back up at you. 

“That’s it baby, fuck. You’re the best. Right there, yeah,” you whispered, gulping as you drew your bottom lip between your teeth. 

There was determination in his eyes, a dangerous and exhilarating stare that you had come to know very well. You could feel the pressure building and the heat practically radiating off your skin the closer you got to the edge. 

You started to squirm, both trying to draw yourself closer and further from the overwhelming pleasure at the same time. Chanyeol didn’t miss a beat, tightening his arms around your thighs and shoving his face deeper into your heat. 

“I’m g-” you stuttered, fingers clawing at his hair, the hood of his sweatshirt, his sleeve, until both hands found the back of his head and gripped it firmly. “I’m gonna-” 

Chanyeol hummed against you, the deep vibrations like a shockwave straight through your entire body. The tension snapped and you cried out, nearly sobbing from the euphoria he’d given you in such a short time. 

Your body jerked with each wave of pleasure, back arching off the bed and hips wriggling despite how hard he was holding onto your flesh. His mouth never stopped licking and sucking, creating obscene noises that only made your orgasm more intense. 

When it all became too much, you found yourself bending away from him, pushing at his head to avoid overstimulation. There was a time and place for that, and to be honest, he didn’t have the stamina for it today. 

So he just kissed your skin, gently stroking your thighs and kissing over your stomach as you came down from your high. Your chest heaved with deep breaths and when you opened your eyes, you found they had been clamped shut so tightly there were stars in your vision at first. 

Once he was hovering over you, you wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him down for a kiss. You tasted yourself and smiled, not ashamed to enjoy it. When you pulled away, Chanyeol tucked his face into your neck just as he had earlier, though this time he felt a thousand times lighter. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he whispered with a gentle kiss under your ear. 

“No, thank you,” you replied with a laugh, ruffling your hand through his hair. 

Chanyeol chuckled into your neck before he flopped back over onto his back, a blissful smile on his face as he stared up at the ceiling. 

“At least I know I can be the best at something today,” he confessed, glancing over at you with a smirk. “Just call me the pussy eating champion.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you told him, though you found yourself giggling while you dressed your bottom half.

You turned over once you’d pulled your leggings on, settling onto your stomach so that you could prop yourself onto your elbows. There was an obvious tent in his joggers, proving to you that eating you out was just as pleasurable for him as it was for you. 

But when you reached out for his belt buckle, Chanyeol opened his eyes. “As much as I would love that, I’m starving.” 

“You’d rather eat than have me suck you off?” you asked, eyebrows high on your forehead. 

Chanyeol just shrugged and climbed off the bed, reaching for your hands. When he pulled you to stand, his eyes were full of the kind of adoration that could only exist between two people that were truly, deeply in love. 

“Later.” 

The rest of the evening you spent in the kitchen, finishing dinner as a team and eating on the couch while you found something mind numbing to play on the TV. You didn’t end up returning the favor, but neither of you seemed to care too much as you dozed off together on the couch, limbs and hearts intwined. 

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Not So Golden Opportunity (BAON)

Summary:  Usually Stretch likes getting packages in the mail, but there is always room for an exception.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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The knock on the front door wasn’t much of a surprise, not when it came at delivery o’clock. Stretch always had packages coming in, everything from equipment for the lab to a new t-shirt that declared he was a ‘Karaoke King’, there was always something for their delivery person to drop off. At any given time, there was enough cardboard stored in their garage waiting to get dropped off at recycle to make one heck of a box fort, and that was on his list to do with the neighborhood kiddos one of these weekends.

So, the knock on the door? Not a surprise. What they were delivering on the other hand—

“uh, wow, thanks, marty,” Stretch said, a little dubiously. Marty let out an agreeable honk and meandered their way back to their little mail truck, leaving Stretch standing there with an enormous armful of flowers from an unknown source. Couldn’t be from Edge. Sure, he’d given flowers a few times, but Edge was more of an in-person sort of guy when it came to presents.

Welp, there was only one way to find out, wasn’t there. Time to get his Velma on and look for some clues.

Stretch carried the massive thing inside and plunked it down on the coffee table to give it a closer look. It was actually a very nice floral arrangement, even Stretch could see that and he didn’t know shit about flowers or décor. Tiny sprays of white, bell-like blooms and ferny green things surrounding several huge blooms of golden flowers, the likes of which Stretch hadn’t seen in years, not since they were Underground.

Hm. Golden flowers.

The card had Edge’s name on it, but Stretch didn’t bother sneaking a peek. Mystery solves, there was only one person who would’ve had this delivered to their door and he probably made it with his own fuzzy hands. The real question was why that asshole was having flowers sent to his husband, thank you, and the only way to find out if he needed to start making plans to yank out hunks of fur with his bare hands was to ask, with the minimum of simmering jealousy possible.

“babe?” Stretch called. Edge was in the kitchen, making preparations for their new cupboards to be installed next week. “hey, c’mere a minute!”

He’d expected Edge to be pleased, he did like his flowers, heck, maybe even excited in that adorably subdued way he had, and much as Stretch could have done without any surprise packages from Ass-gore in their house, eh, he’d deal with it if they made Edge happy.

The last thing he anticipated was for Edge to stop cold halfway out the kitchen door, the fleeting expression of disgust crossing his face quickly shifting to blankness. Edge wasn’t exactly the most emotive guy out there, but Stretch was pretty good at reading his facial version of charades and right now there wasn’t so much as a twitch of the eye socket or a curl of his mouth as he said, low, “Please put that in the garage.”

“the garage?” Stretch repeated doubtfully. He looked down at the extravagant display of floral dominance in his hands and wondered if he’d heard that right. “you sure?

“Yes, because someone might notice if you put it right into the trash.” That blankness cracked, a little, enough for Edge to snap out, “Just get it out of the damn house!”

Yeah, okay, got that message loud and clear, especially since Edge was starting to look a little glowy around the hands, like he was considering a little impromptu, and violent, floral rearranging. Stretch grabbed up the offending bouquet before it could end up as target practice and shortcutted out into the garage.

Like the rest of the house, it was neat as a pin, no oil stains on this concrete floor and all the tools neatly put away on the pegboard. In the back corner was the motorcycle, shrouded in drop cloths and waiting for Edge to be able to take it out for a spin again. Didn’t seem like putting the flowers anywhere special was part of today’s theme, so Stretch stuffed the thing into the furthest spot, away from Edge’s car so he wouldn’t have to see it when he came out on his way to work tomorrow.

Job successfully achieved, Stretch dusted off his hands and teleported back inside. Edge was already gone from the living room, no surprise there, but he hadn’t gone back to the kitchen. A quick, not-at-all-frantic search found him sitting out on the front porch and that wasn’t really a surprise, either. But the cigarette in his hand? Now that blew past surprise all the way into flabbergasted shock. Far as Stretch knew, Edge hadn’t bummed a smoke in months, his general attitude towards smoking was distaste with extreme prejudice. It took a helluva lot for him to give into the urge for a quick fix to a nicotine craving. Whatever his issues were with the flowers, whether it was the gift or the person who sent them, they were bad.

“babe?” Stretch asked, cautiously, still hovering half in the house. As worried as he was, he wouldn’t push, ready to leave if Edge wanted to be alone.

Edge only shifted the cigarette to his other hand and patted the concrete next to him in silent invitation. A little relieved, Stretch came out and sat down. He dug his own cigarette out of the crumpled pack and the two of them sat hip to hip, quietly smoking. Overhead, the sky was endless sea of deep blue broken only by the occasional streak of a puffy cloud. A nice day, too nice for the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air, but Stretch didn’t ask them. Edge would talk when he was ready and if he never was, welp, that was fine, too. Edge wasn’t the only one who could be supportive, Stretch was more than willing to take his turn under the weight.

It wasn’t until Edge tamped out his cigarette in the ashtray Stretch kept out on the porch that he spoke.

“I’m sorry,” Edge said finally. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“i think i’ll live, babe,” Stretch replied, dryly, “the wounds were superficial.” He gave Edge a gentle nudge in the side with his elbow. “you okay?”

Yeah, okay, that wasn���t pushing, thanks. Besides, it was a stupid question, because the answer was obviously going to be a ‘yes, fine’ and that’d be it.

Except that he didn’t get the obvious answer he expected.

“Not right now,” Edge said. His sockets were half-closed and instead of their yard, he seemed to be looking miles away. “I will be.” They sat in silence for a while longer, Stretch watching people walking by, waving as required and leaving Edge to his thoughts. He was lighting a second cigarette when Edge finally spoke again, softly. “Golden flowers.” The faint hitch in his voice could’ve meant nothing, if the person he was sitting with didn’t know him so well. “I haven’t seen real golden flowers in years.”

Stretch considered that. “i’m taking it they weren’t sorely missed.”

“Hm?” Crimson eye lights briefly flicked his way. “No, not at all. I hate the blasted things.”

Stretch only took a long drag and exhaled slowly, blowing a smoke ring up into that blue, blue sky. He didn’t ask or urge him to talk, simply being there if he chose to. And Edge did, slowly, as if choosing every word with care. “The only place in Underfell where golden flowers grew was the king’s chamber in New Home. My memories of that place are…not pleasant.”

Not pleasant. Yeah, like lava is a wee bit warmish or the Titanic sprung a little leak. Indisputable truths: water is wet, the sky is blue, grass is green, and any meeting with the king of all Monsters in Underfell was not pleasant.

The explanation made perfect sense, really; if Stretch’d had a minute to actually think about it instead of dividing his attention between ditching the flowers and then finding his wayward husband, he probably would have figured it out on his own. Perfect sense, yep, and that was why Stretch was torn between temptations. First, to grab Edge and hold him close, to keep him there in his arms and do whatever it took to chase away any of the mental ghosts that were creeping in, to be the protector for one damn time. And then there was the equal temptation to take that little flower arrangement on back to the source and see if he could find any handy place to stick it, because right now, he was ready to cram it so far up someone’s fuzzy buns that they’d need their dentist to help get it loose.

But Edge wouldn’t appreciate either of those options. All Stretch could do here was sit here, be here, and hope it was enough.

Stretch was so lost in his thoughts that he startled at the touch of a gloved hand as it settled gently over his bare one, sharp fingertips blunted by fabric lightly stroking his own. “He didn’t know, love. He mentioned to me in passing that he’d started working on floral arrangements again for the summer and that he’d be sending them out to Embassy employees, and I completely forgot.”

Trust Edge to know exactly what direction his thoughts were headed, right off the grid and into a little righteous revenge. Didn’t help that the things Stretch wanted to say to that excuse weren’t exactly helpful. Things like, Asgore should have been able to guess, homey reminders were only good for people who actually liked their past home, and maybe a reminder to pay some fucking attention to anything besides his own personal popularity contest was in order. Or how about suggestion for a visit to emphasis the whole ‘we don’t send my husband any gifts without pre-approval, asshole’.

None of those options were actually useful and either might actually get him banned from the Embassy this time, so Stretch kept ‘em to himself and only said, “i know.”

Then he let out a squawk as that gentle touch on his hand turned into a firm grip around his wrist and he was abruptly yanked over into Edge’s lap. He barely managed to put out his cigarette before it landed anywhere unpleasant. It took a little creative, and occasionally blatant, wriggling to get situated but in the end, he was settled across Edge’s femurs and snuggled in. His own hands were perfectly G-rated, Edge’s only slightly less so but it wasn’t like anyone on the street could see the hand he’d slipped under Stretch’s sweatshirt and settled over his sternum, right where his soul would manifest if he summoned it. Neither of them did, not yet, not out here in front of the broad daylight and the neighbors. The barest suggestion was enough for right now.

“I’m all right,” Edge murmured, and the warmth of his breath against the curve of his jaw was a tempting distraction. But Stretch wasn’t gonna forget to hand over a carefully selected piece of his mind to Asgore the next time he saw him.

Next time fuzzy ass wanted to send a present, he could stick with a gift card.

-finis

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 7 ~All In A Day's Work~

WARNING: MILD SEXUAL CONTENT

Previously in  A Wrinkle of Time

"You have my blessings. Conditions are, there should be once a week phone-calls. Video or facetime ones or whatever you call it. And when I'm on British soil ..."

Jamie suddenly straightened up on his seat. "We'll visit, or ye can come and stay with us." 

Quentin shot up on his feet. "Very well then, welcome to the family, Fraser. Go and get your dinner ...you wouldn't want your wife ..." he coughed, his face turning red. "...I mean your girlfriend reheating what she's just lovingly made."

Jamie got up as well, ready to shut the laptop, relief and confusion at the sudden turn around washing over him in waves.  What the fuck just happened?  Too bewildered for words, "Of course," was all he could muster. 

Quentin hesitated, as if in search of the right words, his throat working overtime. When he finally spoke, Jamie couldn't help but hear the emotion in the older man's voice. "If Claire's father was alive today, he would think his daughter has made a fine choice."

His jaw dropped involuntarily. "He would?" 

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

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   Claire sat at her desk in her newly built writing studio, contemplating what to do about Thomas Christie next. For the past couple of days, she'd attempted to reach the elusive blogger by all means of communication: phone calls, email, comments on his posts and private messages in his Instagram and blog account. But her efforts, to her frustration, were to no avail. She'd even asked around the village for information on his whereabouts, but each answer led to nowhere. Though he had a resident address, it's quite apparent he wasn’t in. She'd thought of asking Jamie for help but decided not to. It was her project, and she's determined she would accomplish it with her own research skills.

Sighing, she leaned back against her seat and stared at the ceiling. Her boss, John, was counting on her to convince Christie to publish with Dreamweaver Publishing, and so far, she had nothing to show. Looking out the window facing the open fields, her gaze settled on the tractor bumpily navigating a small ragged lane, the rumbling of the engine soundless. She smiled. True to his words, Jamie had more than adequately soundproofed her workspace, shutting out any distracting noise. But with no sign of life from Christie, her work had been brought to a standstill.

Ah, hell! Claire glanced at the time. It was already mid-morning, and she'd been sat there staring blankly at Christie's blog all morning. What to do, what to do? She switched tabs on her browser and looked at his Instagram account, and realised he'd just posted a photo circa a minute ago. She decided to strike while he was online and send a message. Go for it, Beauchamp! With huge calming breaths, she rolled her shoulders and began to type, her fingers flying over the keyboard.

Hello Mr Thomas Christie. My name is Claire Beauchamp from Dreamweaver Publishing Company, London. I have been trying to reach you for the last couple of days to offer you a proposal that may be of interest to you. Some time ago, we came across your blog, and after having read through the content, we've come to realise it has an enormous potential to become the ultimate guidebook to the Scottish Highlands in print. Your knowledge, passion, and enthusiasm for Scotland and your keen eye for photography have captured the public interest, our company and myself included. We'd love to assist you in reaching your highest potential and expanding an even broader following should you be interested in authoring a book. I will be in Broch Mordha for the next few days if you wish to speak to me in person, and I will be more than delighted to explain the details. Any feedback you can give me at this point would be highly appreciated. Best regards, Claire.

Thinking Christie would appreciate the option, she included her phone number and her professional email address and then clicked send. After going over her message, she randomly liked his posts and commented on a recent photo for good measure, hoping it would be enough to get his attention. Oh, please answer this time!

Satisfied for now she'd done everything she could, she decided to make a coffee. She was just about to get up when her phone rang, making her jump in the process. Oh, sweet Mother of God! She must be more on edge than she thought. Clearing her throat, she gingerly tapped the answer button on her screen.

"Hello?" she squeaked. Damn it! I sound weird. 

"Miss Beauchamp?" a deep, heavily accented voice answered. "Thomas Christie here."

"Mr Christie! You called!"

"Please, call me Tom. I'm no' much for convention and formalities. May I call ye Claire? If that's alright."

"Of course," she smiled, regaining back some semblance of composure. She'd already prepared a presentation in her head, but looking back now, it sounded like a pitch from a realtor selling a million-pound property. She reminded herself, Thomas Christie was a nature buff and liked to live an uncomplicated life, if not minimally, when travelling around Scotland in his restored Westfalia Volkswagen Camper. If she'd learned anything from his posts, it was that he wouldn't be easily persuaded with a promise of fame and monetary gain. There's no option but to start improvising.

"I heard a pretty lass was looking for me," he drawled with a hint of amusement in his voice. "I was informed ye were asking around. At first, I thought ye might have been from the council trying to get hold of me because of my unpaid council taxes. If that had been the case, I would have made an exception and come and paid my dues after seeing the photo my mate has taken of ye. Shame it wasn't a better close-up."

"Photo?"

"Aye, photo. My mate took it when ye werenae looking and sent it to me. Ye are bonnie, I must admit."

"Oh!" Holy, is he flirting? Claire wouldn't be surprised. This man's charms had drawn quite a lot of female fans to his site, and it was apparent that he's attempting to weave it on her. He probably thrived in his devotees' admiration, making him aware of his own appeal. This kind of cocksure behaviour wasn't a novelty, so she ignored the teasing but attempted to maintain a fairly laidback attitude. "Well, as you can see, I'm not from the council. And if I were, I wouldn't be making a noise about it now, would I?"

He laughed out loud. "You're right. So, what can I do for ye, Claire?"

"Have you read my message?"

"I have," he said quietly. "But I want to hear from ye why ye think my blog would be good enough to be published."

"Well, as I said, your passion and enthusiasm for Scotland are very apparent in your writing. Your words are ... how shall I say it, so visceral. But I'm not going to lie, though. We would need to make a lot of adjustments before we could present it to the mass. A bit of tweaking here and there and ..."

"Tweaking? I thought ye liked my work as it is?"

"Oh, I do," she said hurriedly. "You misunderstood. We wouldn't want to take the essence out of your writing. It's just a process every book has to go through before it's published. Like polishing your sentences, making them smooth and clear, ensuring that they don't have unnecessary phrases and repetition. And of course, there's the design and typesetting ...oh, well, that's for much later on. It's all standard drill in the publishing process."

"I see ..."

When a long silence lapsed, she checked her phone screen to make sure they were still connected.

"Tom?"

"Aye, I'm still here." He took a huge deep breath. "And what's yer role in this, Claire?" 

"I'm the editorial assistant for Dreamweaver, and I'm here to make this proposal and answer all your questions."

"Right ...Weel, ye see, this is my concern. I'm an avid book reader, and while I'm pleased with all the attention my online journal is getting, I highly doubt that my writing would make it among the best selling list, let alone would anyone, for that matter, be too giddy with excitement to buy it. So what's all the fuss?"

The ambiguity in his voice wasn't lost on her. He may be this self-assured, nature-loving, nonconformist bloke as he'd portrayed on his online travel journal. But clearly, some of that attitude needed to rub off on his self-belief for his art.

"Oh, but that's where you're mistaken," she reassured. "My boss, John Grey, is totally sold with the idea of your adventure stories around Scotland, and he thinks with the proper structural development, design and marketing, it would be a hit. Especially with your fans. The concept is refreshing, and it would be different from any travel guides out there. And besides, it would be an excellent boost for Scottish tourism."

He made some muffled noise and then cleared his throat. "What about ye?"

"What about me?"

"Are ye sold on the idea of my blog?"

Part of John's faith in this book's promising prospect clung to Tom's admirable physical qualities. But for her, that wasn't the main selling point.

She straightened up from her seat and leaned over her laptop. With a flick of her wrist, she brought her computer to life and right there on the screen was his Instagram account. She remembered John's words, Sell him the dream! But she didn't need reminding. Tom may not be the most proficient writer, but his contents were great, especially the picturesque panorama photos. She read a few snippets of his post and smiled.

"Tom ...this opportunity Dreamweaver is offering you would be great exposure for your travel journal. By publishing it in print, you'll be able to reach a broader audience. Your knowledge of this wonderful place is beyond incredible from flora to fauna, the lands' history, the weather phenomenon that can only be termed as typically Scottish ...the whole package is simply amazing. Your passion and enthusiasm for this place make me want to go on that adventure you so love …" She inhaled deeply, searching for the right words. "And I know deep in my guts your future readers would feel the same way. And that's what a great travel book should do, great adventure stories that inspire readers and challenge them to step outside the comfort zone ...even for a little while. This is the kind of book that could encourage people to explore, make them realise that escape from the daily drudgery doesn't mean expensive trips halfway around the world, and that adventure can be found in one's own backyard or a few miles trip down the road. I say you should share this with the world. And to answer your question ...yes, I'm totally sold."

She was out of breath by the time she finished, so she leaned back on her seat and crossed her fingers, hoping for a positive outcome. It was all now down to Tom. She didn't want to push, but the longer the silence between them went on, the more she felt like she was forcing him into a snap decision.

Ah, hell! "Look, Tom, there's no need to decide right now. You have my number. Why don't you think about it for now and call me up when you've made a decision. How about that?"

"I have a better idea. How about we discuss this further in person before I decide? Let's say ...over a dinner date?" he suggested in a low voice.

The word date resounded loudly in her ear. Oh, dear, God!

She needed to play this right without making it look like she was turning him down. Hoping for the best, she laughed nervously. "Of course, it only seems fair to meet first in person before you decide." She swallowed hard and squeezed her eye shut. "But I would hardly call it a date. We can meet at the Inn's pub in the village square and professionally discuss everything over lunch if that's alright. And just to be clear, I already have a boyfriend." 

"Ah, damn!"

She flinched. "Oh, dear!"

He laughed. "Relaxed, Claire. I get it. Ye're taken, and I'm no' surprised. But ye cannae blame a lad for trying, could ye?"

"N-no, of course not ..."

"So business lunch it is then. I'm away for a few more days, so ye have to wait a bit more. I'll give ye a ring when I get back. How's that?"

Yess! She made an effort not to sound too relieved. "That's perfect, Tom! I'll see ye in a few days!"

"Great!" Then the line went dead. 

She let out a massive sigh of relief. So damn close! Feeling elated at the outcome of their conversation, she shot to her feet and did a happy dance. She couldn't wait to call John and tell him everything. If she did her work well and laid out all the finer details of the publishing process and projected outcome, she knew Tom wouldn't be able to turn down the proposal. Invigorated, she immediately went back to work and began typing her outline. Ah, life is good!

..........

Jamie killed the chainsaw engine and pulled down his safety goggles when he caught sight of Jenny's car approaching. He had a bird's eye view of the driveway from the tree and could see everyone's coming and going. What the bloody hell is she doing here? She didn't usually come to job sites; nevertheless, he decided to come down since it was nearly lunch break. Wondering why her visit couldn't wait until work was done for the day, he gripped on to his harness and made a slow descent.

His sister got out of the car, stopping to greet some of the workers and subtly launching glares at him. Alertness immediately snapped in Jamie's shoulders as he realised something was up. 

He dropped to the ground, his work boots landing on a combination of mulch and wood chips debris. As he laid down his chainsaw, he watched his sister approach and noticed the forced smile she had for the workers a few seconds ago, waning from her face. He braced himself as he waited for her to say something, unease slithering like a snake up his spine. This was definitely not a friendly visit.

"What's this I hear, ye havenae been attending therapy?" she hissed. "Have ye gone, daft?"

He glanced above Jenny's head to see if anyone was watching them before glowering down at her. "For fuck sake, Jen, ye're no' my ma," he said in a low voice. "Whatever's about to spew out of yer mouth, this is no' the time nor the place for this."

"Ach aye? Wait till ma hears about ye missing yer therapy!"

"Oh, what's this? We're back in primary school or what? Rushing off to ma to tell her everything. Why cannae ye give ma and me a break, eh?"

"The therapy is for yer own good!"

"I'm fine, Jen! I told ye that many times! What part of 'I'm fine' cannae ye understand?"

"Ye've been telling everyone that all yer life. Everything's fine ... I'm fine ... dinnae fash," she mimicked his voice, her face scrunching up. "Ye say that all the time even when, in actual fact, most of the time ye werenae. So why do ye suppose I dinnae believe ye?"

Jamie looked up at the sky and let out a massive breath. "Aye, there's truth to what ye say. But this time ...I swear, I've never felt better."

"Bloody hell! All this time, I thought ye've been attending therapy. I wouldnae have known if Geneva hadnae asked after ye."

"Weel, if ye'd asked, I would've told ye!"

"No, you wouldnae. And that's always been yer problem."

Christ, why can't she just shut up? He glanced up and noticed his men were looking towards them now. He tugged at the neck of his shirt and winded his head. "Jenny, stop! I cannae do this right now."

His sister stepped forward and was right at his face. "Ye think I'm telling ye off for fun? Weel, here's the news. Everyone wants the best for ye, but ye dinnae care, do ye? Ye're acting like one selfish prick!"

"Jenny ..." he warned, feeling hot and cold all at once.

"No, dinnae Jenny me ..."

"Jenny, shut up! I cannae ..."

"Ye could've at least had Geneva assessed ye. Is that too much to ask?"

Jamie shut his eyes. When he opened them again, he realised Jenny's voice had become distorted, and the grating sound of the stump grinder and helicopter whirring above his head grew more punctuated. Without a hint of warning, a bomb suddenly detonated inside Jamie, and his world began to move in slow motion. Seeing nothing but red, he was only vaguely aware that his angry bellow brought everyone in the vicinity to a standstill.

"What the fuck, Jamie!"

Jamie came to his senses when an arm landed across his chest. He realised Willie was standing between him and Jenny. He glanced at his sister, and her expression caused something inside of him to still. He looked down and saw his fists were two rocks, shaking as if prepared to do some severe damage. Oh, God!

"Jenny ...Willie ..." Jamie whispered. "I ...ah ..."

Hands curled up under her chin, Jenny's eyes were as big as saucers, and she looked terrified. Of me? His heart nosedived to his boots so swiftly, he wondered how he remained upright. The fury evaporated in an instant, and all that remained was shame. He'd felt that kind of guilt before but never with enough punch to knock the air out of his lungs. For crying out loud, this is my sister. What was I thinking?

"Jen ..." He attempted to reach out to his sister, but Willie's arm restrained him. Realising the cause of his older brother's concern, he forced his fists to unfold, aware of Willie watching closely. "I'm so sorry. Oh, Christ, I wasnae gonnae hurt ye," he rasped. "I could never lift a hand to ye. Ye must know that."

He swallowed a lump when Willie appeared reluctant to let him go. But Jenny patted their brother's arm, nodding to let them know she was alright. When Willie took a cautious step back, Jamie immediately gathered his sister into his arms and cradled her against his chest.

"Jen ...forgive me. I didnae mean to shout," he said thickly. "Ye ken I wouldnae physically hurt ye, aye? For Christ sake, ye're my sister, and I love ye. Ye looked so frightened. I couldnae bear the way ye looked at me ..."

"Jamie ...I wasnae scared of ye ..." Jenny whispered. "I was scared for ye."

He pulled slightly away and searched her face. "What do ye mean?"

"Even though ye've been to war, I ken ye dinnae like fighting and violence. Ye abhorred it. I was scared ye might do something ye might regret and make yer condition worse. I dinnae want that for ye."

Jamie stared down at her. "Jenny ..."

"Look, Jamie. It was my fault. I shouldnae have pushed knowing yer condition, and ye ken what my temper is like when it gets out of control. It's like ..."

"Like mine ..." Jamie finished off for her. Drawing her once more into his embrace, they stood like that for a while. Soothing, apologising and hushing each other.

Willie stared at them and shook his head in disbelief, mumbling a sequence of profanities. It wasn't the first time he'd seen their outburst with such intensity. But it was probably the first time Jamie had seemed out of control. Reassured that peace had been restored, for the time being, Willie spun around and left them alone. Exercising his authority at their workers, the older Fraser barked warnings that gossip coming from their workplace would not be tolerated and anyone found guilty would be subjected to an immediate suspension. And with that, he stomped off, leaving them all to stare at his disappearing form in shock.

..........

"There ye are," a deep voice mused.

Claire jumped, making her slam the fridge door and Adso bolt out of the kitchen. She took a deep breath before turning around. 

"Jamie! You're home early. I was just about to prepare dinner."

"Willie didn't need me for the rest of the afternoon, so he sent me home early." His chest was bare and heaving and glistening with sweat. He must have taken off his top as he came in. "I ran all the way from work. I think I may have far too much energy," he explained, slowly approaching her. His hand reached out and placed it behind her neck, and drew her in for a slow wet kiss, knocking the air out of her lungs. His other hand slid under her sweatshirt and squeezed her breast. "Tell me, what am I suppose to do about it, Sassenach."

She pulled away from him and scrunched up her nose. "Jamie! You're dirty."

"And here I thought ye like me dirty." There was no amusement in his tone, and his bunched jaw told her he was on edge or maybe stressed? 

"Why don't you take a shower while I make us something to eat, or better still, how about a bath to help you relax? I'll even bring you a beer," she suggested, feeling a tad concern as she eyed him questioningly.

"How about ye come and have a shower with me," he wheedled, tugging her closer. 

She drew away and took a step back. "Jamie, I've just had one, and I'm all clean." 

"No' a problem. I can get ye dirty in no time." Jamie hauled her into his arms as she tried to dodge. Squealing, she slapped his chest. Once more, his hands wandered, causing a tingling sensation to coast all over her body. "There we go, ye're as dirty as me now." Pressing himself against her, he inhaled her hair as his breath came faster, fingers twisting in the hem of her top. "Ye definitely need a shower now." he gritted.

Laughing, she peered up at his face, and what she saw made her do a double-take and swiped the smile off her lips in an instant. Oh, sweet Mother of God, he looks worse for wear. Something must have happened at work. Didn't he say Willie sent him home? Looking closely, she noticed he looked weighed down with need, and it wasn't just the sexual kind. It was something more and urgent. He'd had almost the same look the other night when he woke up from a fitful sleep, but she hadn't pushed to find out. His hands were all over her now, frantic and desperate like he was trying to grasp onto something to anchor himself, his breathing becoming more shallow and harsh, and his eyes beginning to glaze.

"Jamie stop! Stop right this second."

He immediately stilled and loosened his grip, shame marring his face. "Ach Christ, Sassenach, did I hurt ye? I did, didn't I? Tell me! Oh, dear God ..."

He was about to turn away, but with her hands, she forced his pained face to look at her, a moan barely subdued in his throat. She could already read what was going on through his head. No way would she stand by and let him take any blame, feel shame or guilt. Not this time. And not anymore. He'd made mistakes like everyone else and would continue to make them, but he needed to believe he was a good soul. This had to stop now. "Look at me, James Fraser," she demanded in a firm voice. "Look at me! Whatever is going through that damn mind of yours, don't you even bloody dare entertain it. Are you listening to me?"

"Sassenach ..."

"No, Jamie! I don't know what happened to you today, but let me tell you this ...shit happens all the time, alright? And sometimes we don't get to have any control over it. That's just the way it is. Tonight we're going to talk, even if it takes the whole bloomin' night. But first ..." Before she could change her mind, she stepped away from him and yanked off her top and pulled her leggings down. When she was fully naked, she took his hand and laid it on her bare breast. "Take whatever you need, Jamie."

He baulked. "Sassenach ...ye shouldnae want this in my state. It's wrong. I-I was too rough. I could have hurt ye." His voice sounded hollow and agonised. 

"But you didn't."

He palmed her breast. "Christ, do I have a shred of decency left?"

"Do you love me?" she asked, undoing his jeans button. She saw he was already highly aroused and his skin covered in goosebump.

"With all of me," he groaned when she pulled down his zipper. "And ye ken that."

Determination licking through her veins, she stood on her tiptoes and spoke into his ear, her hand sliding inside his jeans to caress the ridge of his hardness. "If that's the case, what we're about to do is not wrong."

A voice raced through her consciousness, telling her this was the way forward. She knew he needed his control back before he would be able to speak to her. So she got down on her knees and pulled his pants down. 

When he wrapped her hair in his fist and tilted her head back, she smiled. "Now, let's get dirty and exorcise those pesky brain chatter, shall we?" Before he could reply, she took him full in her mouth and worshipped him with her love, absorbing every frustrated growl that ripped from his throat and every emotion that poured out of him with every roll of his hips. 

She pushed him to the edge and over until he found his release, and his loud cries echoed in the air. When he shattered around her, his body slumped onto the floor and into her arms.

Claire knew they had a long night ahead of them, so she cradled him, waiting patiently for his breathing to calm. Later after she bathed him, they would talk, but for now, she was contented just to hold him a little while longer, as she wondered how many of Jamie's demons she would have to slay tonight and if love would be enough to conquer his hell.

Dear Readers,

Thank you all for your feedback from the previous chapter. I know it was a bit deep and dark, but I really did want to do Jamie's condition justice, and I must admit, I probably got carried away putting so much emphasis into it. But that's just me, I guess.

And as for the latest instalment,  I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.  I must admit it is moving a bit slow, but it's a necessary move to pull this story together as I cover loopholes and grounds. One day, you'll understand the logic behind it.😀 So have patience, my friends - all in good time. Stay safe for now and take care until next time. X

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“Natural” - Chapter Three - Embry Call x Reader

Honesty 

I let Embry drive to the secret spot. I felt it was easier than listening to him attempting to navigate. Also because “you can’t drive with your eyes closed” and I had to have my eyes closed or it’s not a surprise anymore. 

Oh how he is still the giant goof I fell in love with as a child, a preteen, and a teen. Embry Call was the love of my life for as long as I can remember. 

Embry started to blast our shared playlist on my radio. The car ride quickly turned into us belting out our favorite songs together. A dream come true if you ask me, I just wish I could see his beautiful face singing. 

“Can I open my eyes yet?” I asked, turning the music down.

“In a few minutes, we’re almost there, bean.” He rubs a small circle onto the back of my hand with his thumb. 

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks, and I tried to stop the giggle from leaving my mouth-- I felt myself smiling anyway. 

A few minutes pass, and I finally feel the car park. 

“You can open your eyes now.” 

I open my eyes and am met with an unfamiliar treeline. We aren’t parked in a designated parking lot; there aren’t even any signs. 

“Do you know where we are?” I ask him, surprised at how isolated this place seems. 

“Of course. I’ve been here a lot.” 

“Is this where you kill me?” I laugh. 

“Oh yeah, you caught me, bean.” He rolls his eyes. 

“Wait, Em. Quil and Jake said there’s been a lot of bear attacks. Is it safe in here?” I ask in a worried tone. 

“Bean, I would never let anything happen to you. A bear is not on my list of concerns.” He puts his hand on my lower back, continuing to walk us into the woods. 

“Okay, Em. I know you got huge and weirdly strong and everything, but, and no offense, I don’t think you could take a bear down single handedly.” I look at him with raised eyebrows.  

“Oh you’ve gotta stop doubting me. It’s safe here, though. I’ve never seen any bears here.” He smirks, leaning closer into me. 

“Okayyyyy there tough guy.” I chuckle, following his lead. 

We press forward, walking to the mysterious place. 

“It’s about a fifteen minute walk from here, not too bad.” He shrugs. 

“Sounds fair.” 

After about another ten minutes and then some, Embry tells me I have to close my eyes so the surprise isn’t ruined. 

“Em, I can’t hike with my eyes closed.” I laugh. 

“Get on my back.” He offers. 

“No, you absolutely cannot carry me the rest of the way. You’ll die.” Eyes widening out of my skull. 

“No, don’t be ridiculous. Either get on my back or I’m picking you up, bean.” He grins. 

“Em, I just-” 

My words were cut off from the quick swooping motion of Embry picking me up. He picked me up so effortlessly, leaving me surprised. 

“Okay, now close your eyes. We’re getting really close.” 

“Em, how did you do that?” I ask, eyes now closed. 

“It’s quite simple, really. I used my arms and I-” 

“Oh hush, you know that’s not what I meant.” 

His laughter was music to my ears. Hell, his voice was heavenly enough to put me into a slumber. I feel so weird, thinking so intensely about him. He’d probably think I’m absolutely nuts. Though, he seemed to watch every movement I’ve made since we met up, and hangs onto every word I say. 

I rested my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It soothed me, it almost put me to sleep. 

“You can open your eyes again.” He says as he gently puts me down on the ground. 

“Holy shit, Em.” I take in the surroundings around me. 

“You like it?” He asks, like an excited child. 

“Like it? I love it.” I tell him. 

I walk deeper into the clearing. It was surrounded by pine trees and a small river running through the end of it. 

“I thought you would. You always loved this kinda stuff when we were younger.” 

I turn around smiling at him, thrilled to see how much he valued me back then. 

“I did, I still do. I haven’t changed too much. I’m still (Y/N). And you’re still Embry.” I smile at him.

“Yeah, I guess so.” He awkwardly pulls his lips tight, pursing them together. 

 “Em, you’re the same Embry I’ve known my whole life.” I walk over, grabbing his hands and looking up into those deep chocolate eyes. 

“(Y/N), you really feel that way? You think I’m the same?” He asks with unsure eyes peering into mine. 

“Of course. Just a lot taller, warmer, and bulkier. Other than that, you’re the same soul I’ve known.” 

“Oh, bean. I missed you so much. Can I tell you something?” 

“Of course, anything.”

“Remember when we kissed before you left?” 

“I could never forget it.” 

“There isn’t a day where I don’t regret not doing that sooner. Doing it more. I wish that you didn’t go. I wish we weren’t apart for so long. I just wish I told you that I loved you before you left. Or even after, I wish I told you before today.” 

My breath hitched, and I couldn’t feel anything in my body anymore. I was in shock. My whole life I was in love with Embry, and now he’s telling me it was mutual? I always felt it wasn’t one sided, but I never thought I could be so lucky. 

“Em, I wish I knew. I’ve been in love with you since day one. I think about that kiss all the time. I’m so happy you felt the same way, I just wish either of us had the balls to say something. Especially when I was gone. Being so far from you for so long, it hurt. Being back with you, it feels so natural-- it feels so right. Seeing you again, I expected it to feel something… but what I felt when I saw you. I don’t understand what happened Em. It’s like everything around us stopped.” I try my best to explain my feelings. 

“I know, bean. I know. I have a lot of explaining to do today. That happened to me, too; a little more on my end. You being here is the best gift I could’ve asked for. I love you, (Y/N).” 

“I love you Embry.” 

“Can I kiss you?” His lip quivered slightly. 

“Please.” I looked up at him with pleading eyes. 

He bent down, one hand grabbing my waist, and his other holding the back of my neck. I wrapped my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth radiate off of him. 

The kiss was hungry, his soft warm lips intoxicated every fiber of my being. Chills ran up my spine, leaving me weak in the knees. This kiss felt like a thousand suns exploding, I never wanted this kiss to end. 

Embry pulled away a minute or so after the kiss started. Leaning his forehead on mine. 

“Wow.” I breathed out. “I know.” 

“I wanna do that more often, Em.” 

“We can, soon. I don’t want to rush either of us into anything, (Y/N).” 

“I understand. Thank you, Em.” I hug his waist tightly. 

“Of course, bean. I just want you to know everything before you decide anything.” 

“Embry, you have to tell me what’s going on. Did you kill someone?” 

“No, (Y/N). I never killed a person.” 

“Okay, so we’ll watch the sunset on the beach, and you can tell me all about it.” 

“Alright, let’s go back to the car and head over to La Push.” 

I nod and he grabs my hand, leading us back to the car. 

“How do you know your way around here so well?” I ask. 

“I’ve been here a lot.” He looks down at me, flashing me the signature Embry Call grin. 

Jesus, that face makes me weak in the knees, every time. Video chatting with him did it no justice. 

Our walk to the car was one of silence. It was a lot of longing stares at the other, listening to the sounds of nature. Enjoying the peace that Embry has never failed to bring me. 

We get to the car and I drive us to La Push, enjoying another car ride with the company of Embry. 

Getting out of the car, I grab the blanket I kept in my trunk and head down to the beach. 

Embry rolls out the blanket for us to sit on. I plop down and he follows, sitting close to me. 

“So, I just want you to know that I would never lie to you. Everything I’m about to tell you is the truth, and I can prove it. Okay?” He looks at me, dead serious eyes. 

“Alright, Em. You’re making me a little nervous.” I chuckle. 

“No, no. I would never hurt you. Just understand that before I tell you the rest.” 

I nod, worry starting to kick in.

 Hurt me? Why would I think he would hurt me?

“Okay, do you remember those stories that Old Quil and Billy used to tell us? Like when we were kids?” He asks me. 

“Yeah. I loved those stories. I thought they were great.” I smiled.

“I know, I remember you loved them. But, (Y/N), they’re true. The shifters are real. It’s all real. The cold ones, too. All of it.” 

“Em..”

“No, please. I can prove it. I just want you to be prepared.” He looks at me with pleading eyes. 

“Embry, on this hypothetical that it’s all real-- what are you trying to tell me?” I ask. 

“I’m a shifter. Jake, Quil, Paul, all of us. Seth, Leah, Jared, and Sam. We all can shift. We protect the land, the people from the cold ones. I promise I can show you.” 

“Okay. Show me, Em.” I look him dead in the eyes. 

“Well, I have to show you in the woods. These are tribal secrets, nobody is allowed to know. Only those in the pack, and their imprints, of course.” 

“Imprints? I don’t remember that part of the story.” I admit honestly. 

“Yeah Billy never talked about that much, he probably didn’t think we wanted to hear about it as kids.” He laughs a little. 

He stands up, reaching his hand out for me to take. I look up at his face, grab his hand and follow him into the woods. 

We walk a few minutes into the woods, out of sight from the beach. 

“Okay, just stand back for a minute, and just remember-- I promise I won’t hurt you.” 

“I trust you, Em.” I smile at him. 

Though I didn’t necessarily believe him, a part of me felt this was true. I never knew Embry to be crazy, and after all these stories came from somewhere. I just… I never expected it to be anything more than a legend. 

He smiles at me, nodding. He strips down to just his boxers, causing me to put my hand out, covering the lower half of his body from my sight. 

And that’s when his body began steaming. His body shook intensely. 

Before I knew it-- there was an enormous grey wolf in front of me. Standing on all fours, it was over six feet tall. This was a massive wolf. I looked down at his paws, easily bigger than my head. His head, bigger than anything I could’ve ever imagined. 

“Em?” 

The wolf nods, letting out a small whine. Walking over to me with his head low, showing me that there’s nothing to be afraid of. 

“Wow. You’re beautiful.”

I reach out my hand, running my fingers through the soft fur on his head. Scratching behind the ears. 

“So this was the secret? You’re the big bad wolf?” I ask, chuckling at my own stupid jokes. 

Embry took his head, nudging me on the shoulder as a way to tell me to shut up. 

“So, everyone I grew up with gets to turn into a giant wolf superhero, and all I get to do is lick my elbow? Something doesn’t seem fair here.” I laugh. 

Embry’s massive head lays itself on my shoulder, weighing it down enough to almost start hurting my neck.

“So this is what you were nervous about? That I would think of you differently? You’ve become one of my favorite stories growing up as a kid. You aren’t a monster, Em. I think you’re amazing.” I smile at him. 

He takes a step back, looking my in the eyes once more before grabbing his clothes off the forest floor. He runs behind some brush, I heard some bones cracking before I heard Embry shuffling in the bushes. A moment later he returns in front of me. 

“Thank you, (Y/N). I was just afraid of how you’d take this. I didn’t want you to be afraid of me, or want nothing to do with me. I know it’s a lot to take in.” 

“It is. I honestly still feel a little whacked out, but I meant what I said, Em. You are such a light in my life, and you always have been. Em, you scared me before. I didn’t know what to expect but… this is workable. My best friends are shifters, they’re incredible. This is magical, Em.” I smile at him.

He walks over and hugs me tight. 

“Thank you for accepting me, bean.” He whispers into the top of my hair. 

“Of course, Embry. But why are you so worried about the way I would react?” I ask. 

“Well, I’ve been hiding it from my mom for over a year, I just want her to stay out of the drama it brings. I was afraid of hiding it from you, too. But I also didn’t want to lie, I wanted us to stay comfortable. But, it’s a dangerous world. I wanted you to stay being my little bean.” He smiles softly at me. 

“I’ll always be your little bean, Em. I want you to be honest with me, always. No judgment here.” I smile. 

We walk back to the beach as the darkness falls. 

“So, imprinting?” I ask. 

“Ah yes, imprinting. It’s kinda like a soulmate-- whether that be platonic or romantic. It happens after you phase, if you’re lucky. When you first meet eyes with them, everything stops. It’s like all of a sudden, whoever you imprint on becomes your world. It’s not gravity holding you down to the Earth anymore, it’s them. You’d do anything, be anything for them. A brother, protector, a lover… but it’s all up to you. You get to choose this, (Y/N).” 

“Oh wow. So I’m… I’m your imprint?” I ask. 

“Yes, you are my imprint. You get to control it all from here.” He looks at me with a hopeful look in his eyes. 

“Well, Em. I’ve loved you my whole life. This is what I wanted, and if it’s what you’ve always wanted… then why fight it? I agree that we should take it slow but, I want you.” I breathlessly answer him. 

“(Y/N), you don’t know how happy this makes me.” 

I lean up, kissing him on his lips again. This was a feeling I would never get used to.

“Thank you.” He says, almost short of breath. 

“No, thank you, Em.” I lay my head on his warm chest once more. 

We sat back down on the log once more, his arms wrapped around me, keeping me warm. 

“So, can I ask you some questions?” I ask. 

“Of course.” 

“So, how hot are you? Like temperature wise.” 

“Jake said 108.9. So I’ll trust his word on that.” 

“Holy shit. You really are my dream space heater.” I giggle. 

“I love keeping you warm, so it works for me.” He kisses the tip of my nose. 

“Next one, so the cold ones. Those are vampires. That means that they’re real? And they’re here?” 

His face drops, realizing the heavier question. 

“Yeah. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you, ever. Ever since the Cullens moved back, we started phasing. Bella’s dating Edward Cullen, yes. But they only feed off of animals, so they call themselves vegetarians, if you will. Anyway, since they’ve come back we’ve had issues with some nomad vampires. One especially keeps coming back for Bella. She’s been running on our land a lot, she’s just hard to catch. We’ve been trying to catch her, too.” 

“So you say catch her, but you’ll be killing her, right?” 

“Yes, (Y/N). She’s dangerous, she’s a rogue vampire on the hunt for revenge and blood. It’s what we were made to do.” 

“No, I know. I just wanted to make sure. Just saying, you said you’ve never killed a person, low and behold you have killed vampires, though.” I tease. 

“Oh, technicalities. They’re already dead. It’s to save everyone.” He nudges my shoulder. 

“I know, Em. But the Cullens, they’re good?” I ask. 

“Kinda. I still don’t trust them all that much but we are civil. We have a treaty.” 

“I see. So who knows?” I ask.

“The pack, the Cullens, Bella, Billy and Harry, and the imprints. Though there’s only three of you guys right now. You, Emily, and Kim.” 

“Ah I see.” 

“I’ll introduce you formally to the rest of the pack tomorrow at our bonfire. You get to come to those.” He smiles at me. Pulling me closer into his chest. 

“Quil’s coming, be prepared.” He tells me. 

“What? How do you know?” I look around for Quil nearby to no avail.

“I hear him and Jared.” Embry tells me.

“From where?” I ask. 

“I don’t know, they’ll probably get here in a few minutes.” 

I look at him in disbelief, wondering how correct he was. 

In the meantime, he explained to me the other perks of being in the pack. The mind connection, the healing abilities, speed, and strength. It was all so amazing, I couldn’t believe it was real. Apparently the “bears” were vampires-- I knew there were no bear attacks.

“Hey what’s up dorks?” Quil interrupts a few moments after Embry told me. 

“No fuckin way.” I look at Embry in disbelief. 

“At least a mile away.” He boasts. 

“So she knows now?” Quil looks between us. 

“Yeah, I know it all now, dork.” I mock. 

“Ooh Embry, you finally joined the imprint club. I’m Jared, I have the best eyesight and I’m the most handsome. I know we’ve met before, but I’m a new man now.” Man this guy was goofy as all hell. 

“Wow, incredible. What an honor to meet you again.” I mocked his tone. 

“You know it, girl.” He winks. 

“Does Jake know you know yet?” Quil asked. 

“Not yet, I assume he’ll find out soon. I’m coming to the bonfire tomorrow.” I smirk. 

“Oh god, we’ll never be able to get rid of you.” Quil says, sitting on my other side and messing my hair up. 

“Rude.” I remark. 

“I haven’t heard a peep out of him since he left with Bella today.” Embry informs us. 

“Oh wait, so she knows because he imprinted on her?” I ask.

“No, you’d think so-- but no. He’s just in love with her, which ropes us all into the drama with her and her leech.” Jared says. 

“Oh, I see.” 

“Yeah, Jake’s pretty sensitive about it. Maybe don’t bring that up to him, bean.” 

“Noted.” 

We sat around, joking for hours. I began to yawn and leaned my head onto Emrby’s shoulder. 

“You tired, bean?” He whispers into my ear. 

“A bit. What time is it?” I cuddle deeper into his shoulder. 

“A little after midnight.” 

“I should probably go home soon, I’ll be too tired to drive if I wait longer.” 

“News flash: you’re already there, bud.” Quil laughs. 

I whine into Embry’s shoulder, sticking my tongue out at Quil. 

I felt Embry’s strong arms lifting me up, carrying me to my car. 

“I’m gonna take you home, okay? Where are your keys?” He asks softly. 

“Inside pocket of my bag.” I mumble. 

I felt him go into the bag, hearing my keys jingle. My car unlocks and I feel Embry put me into the passenger seat, buckling my seatbelt. 

“Thank you, Em.” I mumble. 

“Of course, bean.” 

I don’t remember any of the drive home, as I was asleep for the entirety of it. 

I wake up to Embry’s strong hands lifting me out of the car and walking to my front door, unlocking it with my key. 

“Where’s your room?” He asks. 

“Upstairs, the second door on the right.” I manage to get out. 

We go up the stairs, and he pushes my door open. Embry lays me down on my bed, and tucks me in before plopping my keys and bag on my desk. 

“Goodnight, bean.” He kisses my forehead before walking to my door.

“Em, wait. Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” I ask. 

“I can do that.” He smiles before slowly walking over to my bed, trying to be quiet in an effort to not wake my dad. 

“Thank you.” I lay my head on his shoulder once he gets into my bed, wrapping my arm around his waist. 

He begins to stroke my hair, and hold me in his arms. 

I could swear that if  there was a heaven, this was it. 

I felt my eyes drooping, unable to stay awake much longer. 

“I love you.” I mumble.

“I love you too, bean.” He kisses my forehead. 

And that’s the last thing I remember before drifting into my peaceful slumber.

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Word Count: 3635

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