#too cause there sure are. do custom chao get their own tag | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

seraphica · 2 years ago

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Welcome to Tumblr

I haven't found a single masterpost intro to tumblr, so i made one. I'm loving all the memes and 2012-era jokes, but for those who do actually move over it'd be nice to have something helpful. Below is a non-exhaustive, alphabetical reference list of tumblr things that might be helpful to a newbie or returnee.

Disclaimer: Links to posts are to versions I reblogged, so they will have all the additions and no risk of linkrot if someone deactivates or changes their username. Also sorry this shit is so long. I’m sure I missed stuff too.

Activity - the little lightning bolt at the top of the page is your activity log. If you click on it, it will show you recent notifications for your blog - you can filter to mentions, reblogs, or replies, and you can also change which blog's notifications you're looking at. It will show notes both for posts you reblogged that people liked and reblogged from you, or posts you originally made that people liked or reblogged somewhere along the line. If a person you're following likes or reblogs your post, it'll be shaded a slightly different color.

Ads - historically Tumblr Ads have been their own genre of hilarious - not at all targeted, generally completely insane. Some genuine advertisers are now getting in on it which isn't as fun. You can go ad-free for a fee. (Or use Firefox + UBlock origin on desktop)

App - Tumblr has an app. I only use desktop. Someone else will have to help you here.

Asks - you can send people 'asks' that they can respond to privately or publicly. You can have asks turned on or off, allow anonymous or only logged-in users, etc. Asks you receive will trigger a notification on the 'envelope' icon.

Blacklist - a feature on XKit (see below) that allows you to filter words and phrases you don't want to see on your dashboard. You can customize it to include words and phrases, whitelist words that would allow the blacklisted phrase to be shown, choose how filtered posts behave, etc.

Blaze - When you make an original post, you'll see the option to 'blaze' it. You pay a set amount of money to have it show up on the blogs of a certain number of people. There's no guarantee of interaction, and there are some restrictions on what can be blazed. You also shouldn't say, blaze a fanfic and then be shocked when all the people who see it aren't in your fandom and are very confused. You SHOULD blaze pictures of your pets because tumblr loves that shit. As a whole, tumblr users aren't a fan of brands or marketing, but we do like the option to support the site while causing a different kind of chaos. You can't blaze reblogs.

Celebrities - very few celebrities are on this site (that we know of) and frankly we like it that way. If they come here, they need to follow the example of Neil Gaiman and act like everyone else on this hellsite (affectionate).

Censorship - you can say things like 'kill', 'dead', etc. on here. Don't censor words like 'd3ath' because it will then show up on the dashboards of people who have the word 'death' blacklisted. If you censor, do so only to keep yourself from showing up in the searches - i.e., if you're complaining about Celebrity X, you might use a pseudonym like Bumblebee Cucumber to keep your post from showing up in searches for their real name. You won't get shadowbanned for saying 'fuck' or 'abuse'. If you're talking about something and want to help people avoid it, you can also use tags like tw: abuse or cw: violence that people can blacklist.

Community Labels - a relatively new feature, this is designed to allow more types of content on tumblr by giving a vehicle to mark them as mature content - featuring violence, addiction, sexual themes, etc. You can choose to show, blur, or hide items marked with these labels. I believe they're hidden as the default on the app, to align with apple's restrictive app store policies.

Dashboard (Dash) - this is the name for your homepage. You can set it to be endless scrolling or pages. I highly recommend the latter, both for loading purposes and so you don't lose your place. Your dash contains posts from people you follow, the option to make new posts, etc. More on settings.

Deactivating - some people deactivate their blogs. If they do, you can no longer find posts on their blog - but the posts they made will still exist if they've ever been reblogged. It'll show their username as something like usernamedeactivated20221031.

Deleting - deleting a post will get rid of the version on your blog, but reblogs will survive. If you say something really stupid and then delete it, but someone has reblogged it already, it will always be out there.

Drafts - Drafting a post allows you to save it and edit later before posting or queueing. To save a post as a draft, click the arrow next to Post and select ‘Save as Draft’. You can also queue, schedule, preview, or post privately.

Editing - You can edit your post even after it’s been posted. However, if someone has already reblogged the post, the edit will not impact that reblog or any reblogs that come from it. You will occasionally see people editing their own old posts to claim they were clairvoyant about something 10 years ago. The ability to edit other people’s posts when reblogging was limited a few years ago, though there are workarounds if you’re REALLY trying.

Following - following someone will set it so their posts show up on your dashboard/homepage. If you're having a hard time, a good starting point is to search tags and blogs to find some that share your interests. Keep an eye on blogs that they reblog from, as well - those might be blogs you'd enjoy. And don't be afraid to unfollow! Maybe they're spamming your dash with content about something you're not interested in, or failing to tag things, or are making posts constantly insulting something you like. Curate your space and unfollow. You don't need to make a call-out post or confront them, just press the button and move on.

Likes - Hitting the heart on a post adds it to your likes, and adds to the total notes count, but doesn't really boost it in any other way. You can have your likes public or hidden. You might choose to like posts to go back later and choose which to reblog, or use them to send a bit of love to the person who posted it (such as a mutual's personal post).

Linking- you can use in-text links on tumblr! And you should! Linking is a great way to cite your sources or share relevant information. Within this post you'll see several links to more information.

Memes - Tumblr has a lot of in-jokes, and humor here is a bit different than some other social media. Memes pretty much never die, and many of the ones you've seen on other sites got started here.

Messaging - Tumblr's chat feature. You can have this set to allow anyone to message you, or just people you follow. It's a nifty way to share a post directly with someone, as well.

Missing E - you were here once and have been gone a long time. See XKit.

Notifications -See 'Activity'. You can also enable notifications via email, or presumably on the app (again, I don't use the latter). I recommend turning them off for email.

Porn Ban - Tumblr used to be a lawless place, with a common refrain being 'go nuts, show nuts'. A few years ago came the infamous porn ban, which led to a large exodus of users and the unfortunate phrase 'female presenting nipples'. While the content rules have relaxed a bit recently, 'We still don’t allow hate, spam, violent threats, or anything illegal, and visual depictions of sexually explicit acts remain off-limits on Tumblr'. The CEO talked a bit more about the restrictions, as well.

Posting - You can create your own posts on Tumblr. They can be text, quotes, videos, photosets, or a mix of the above. You can even use limited HTML to edit them in html mode.

Post+ - literally no one does this. It's the concept of paywalling your posts. No one on tumblr is going to pay to see your posts. No one.

Queue - one of my fave tumblr features. The queue lets you set up posts for later. For instance, mine is set to post 10 times per day between 8 am and midnight my time. You can still post outside the queue, but it's a great way if you want to avoid reblogging everything at once, or if, say, you posted something and want it to self-reblog later in case your followers missed it on their dashboard. To queue a post, select the arrow next to 'Post' when posting or reblogging, and select 'add to queue'. If a post is in your drafts, click the clock icon to queue it up.

Radar - Tumblr radar is posts that staff have selected to highlight. Generally this will be art, occasionally photos. It might be brand new or years old. You don't get on radar by using magical tags and hoping the algorithm selects you. Radar also only shows the first image in a post - you'd need to click on it to view any other images or associated text.

Reblogging - the lifeblood of this site. posts are shared via reblogging. The vast majority of posts on most blogs will be reblogs, and often the original poster isn't someone they even follow - it's just traversed through the tumblr ecosystem over time. Reblogging puts the post onto your blog, and thus the dashboards of your followers, while keeping it connected to the original poster. You can add your own tags, engage in a conversation, etc. If you laugh at something or enjoy it, reblog it to share it! Reblogging with tags also means you can search your own blog later to find a post again easily. If you don’t want people to reblog your original post, you can also turn reblogging off.

Reposting - don't do it. Reposting is when you take something someone else posted on tumblr - art, graphics, a screenshot of text, etc. - and make a new post with it. If you want their content on your blog, reblog it. If you want to share something from elsewhere that isn't on tumblr, make sure you cite your sources (and if an artist elsewhere says 'no reposting to other sites', DON'T post it on tumblr).

Replying - clicking the speech bubble below a post will allow you to reply to it. Replies will show up in the notifications of both the person who put the post on your dash, and the OP. You can have conversations in the replies. It's also possible to turn replies off entirely - if the button is greyed out, the original poster turned off that function. (Sometimes for the better).

Search - using Tumblr's search function will search both the content of posts and their tags. It's a notoriously questionable feature in the results it returns and their order, but it can find some hidden gems. you can also search within a specific blog - such as by going to seraphica.tumblr.com/search/cats, you should find posts both tagged 'cats' and with 'cats' in the content.

Settings - Settings lets you customize everything for your blog, including appearance, whether anonymous people can message you, password-protecting a blog, hiding it from search results, etc. You should customize your blog a little or people might think you’re a bot.

Sharing - clicking the share icon allows you to send a post via messages right to another blog. It also gives you the chance to copy the link, embed, share to specific other sites, etc.

Shortcuts - there are a whole bunch of keyboard shortcuts to make your tumblr experience smoother - posting, reblogging, and viewing. Click the little person icon and then 'Keyboard Shortcuts' to view a full list.

Sideblogs - You can create multiple blogs from a single Tumblr account. Your main blog is the one that will show up as following people or liking posts, or in replies, but you can sort out the kind of content you post into specific themed blogs. For instance, I use @blue-sky-sapphire for fandom blogging, @disneyesque-dreams for Disney-related content, and @fuckyeahneopia (mostly dead now) for Neopets. I can access all of them from this blog, and view their notifications and messages without having to log in and out. There isn't a magic button that tells you all of someone's other blogs, so it's possible to have a main blog and sideblog that aren't obviously related to each other.

Sourcing - When you make a new post on tumblr, there's a nifty gear icon on the top right. You can paste a source link directly in there. (You can use this same button to make custom post URLs, change the editor type, etc.). It's also good to add source links in the text - for example, if I share a photo from Flickr, I may set the source as the original image link, and the below the photo put 'Photo Title by Photographer [via]' with the via linking right to the source.

Submissions - You can choose to allow people to submit things to your blog. For instance, you might share pictures of other toasted-marshmallow cats with @straycatj. When posted, those submissions will also automatically credit you as the submitter, and should be tagged 'submission' by default. You can also turn submissions off if you don't want people sending you things.

Tagging - unlike other social media, tags on tumblr aren't part of the post itself. They allow spaces and punctuation (bar commas, which mark the end of a tag). They are also a much more important factor here, IMO. Tags are used to:

Sort things on your own blog (i.e. I can later go to seraphica.tumblr.com/tagged/cats for all posts that are tagged 'cats')

Show up in tracked tags (if you're the original poster)

Allow blacklist to work

Follow content you're interested in.

add commentary or jokes without clogging up the original post

The first ten(?) tags you use on an original post will allow it to show up in that 'tag'. If you're following a tag, you can set that following topic to show up on your dashboard - or just have it as an easy link for the future, without crowding the dash. Tracked tags only include original posts that actually have that specific tag, rather than searching the full content of a post or what tumblr thinks is tag-related.

A rule of thumb is that you only use tags that are actually relevant to the post. If you're posting a picture of your cat sleeping, you might tag it 'cats', 'black cat', 'pets', but it'd be out of line to tag it something like 'destiel' 'epcot' or 'rabbit'.

It's polite to use a consistent tag for things you reblog frequently. For instance, a mutual of mine recently got into Formula One racing. Because she uses the tag 'f1' consistently, I'm able to blacklist that and have them hidden on my dash without having to unfollow her (which I didn't want to). Conversely, if she'd used the tag 'formula', i'd run into an issue - EVERY post on my dash that had the word formula in it would be hidden, whether talking about baby formula, math formulas, etc.

Any tags you use on a reblog show up in the notifications of the original poster and the person you reblogged it from. They can be a great place to add mini-commentary like 'beautiful work op' to art.

More on Tagging.

'Spoilers' is a good universal tag to use. You can tag something 'Movie X Spoilers', but unless someone has 'movie x spoilers' blacklisted, it won't be hidden unless you also tag it 'spoilers'. The second tag can be useful for telling someone what the spoilers are about if you've also tagged it spoilers, but it won't trigger the 'spoilers' block.

Themes - you can completely customize your blog to have its own theme and page - for instance, seraphica.tumblr.com uses a theme from @magnusthemes that has been customized with my own info, images, links, and colors with minimal coding knowledge.

Timestamps - you can enable these both via Tumblr itself and via xkit. It allows you to see when something was originally posted, and is super helpful for figuring out how recent and relevant information may be - particularly news items.

Tipping - you can enable tipping on your blog, and an icon will show up on your original posts even when reblogged. Most people on tumblr do not have money to send you, so don't expect much at the moment.

Username - Your username can be anything untaken, and include letters, numbers, and the - dash. You can change your username easily, but that will make it available for someone else and any links elsewhere that went back to your blog will be dead. (Though posts you made should be updated with your new name). Restrictions are pretty minimal, and you'll see people with usernames like 'officialcompany' that are not actually connected to that company. As long as their blog is clearly a parody (and not genuinely impersonating), it's fine.

Verification - not a thing here, and we don't want it.

XKit - currently 'XKit Rewritten', this is an add-on for Firefox or Chrome that allows additional customization

... Menu - on the top right of posts, you'll see a '...' aka meatball menu. Clicking on it will bring up a selection of options relating to the post, the person who reblogged it, etc.

Miscellaney....

Don't put a bunch of identifying information out there. This is one of the last bastions of actual online anonymity and we like it this way.

Curate your experience. Unlike most other social media, that is actually possible here. You can turn off suggested posts and only see things from people you actually follow.

Reblog. Most blogs are majority reblogged content before they are original posts. That's the way this place works and thrives. That's how you see posts from outside your orbit that have been selected for sharing by other people.

Don't screenshot posts and repost those screenshots. You can reblog the same thing a hundred times. You can bring old posts back to life. Screenshotting should only be used if you're using it as a reaction image or like... compiling an archive of November 5, 2020.

Unless you have something genuinely valuable to add, keep it in the tags. If someone things your tags are funny, they'll add them to the post in their reblog. Think of it as peer-reviewed humor.

Share your sources. In-text links, the built-in source option, etc. Don't just steal stuff from the internet and call it a day. And remember, Pinterest is not a source.

We post bullshit here. Get used to it.

Feel free to add on if I missed anything important.

#long post #tumblr #intro to tumblr

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liibrii · 4 years ago

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Miya!Reader x Miyas

Synopsis: Nothing simpler than grocery shopping. Right?

wc: 1.2k

a part of The third Miya series

a/n: Miyas are pure chaos and I’m here for it. If you wanna be tagged in the coming scribbles lemme know and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

One thing was sure; every single time you were sent to get groceries Osamu got lost somewhere between entering the store and the first shelf. Years of being used to it and you still worry, knowing better than anyone he always follows his nose rather than his eyes; though ever since the mango incident you'd rather no one knew you are related.

And after all, he is like a cat, aloof and distant until food came into picture and he winds his way between your legs till he either gets what he wants or you end up flat on your face. And he still gets what he wants.

Atsumu on the other hand, is a parrot. A colourful, obnoxiously loud parrot who always wants whatever is in your hands, not caring what you knock over trying to keep your small treasures from his grabby little claws. Or, hands.

The current treasure in question being the shopping list. It's been a long time since you stood a chance against Atsumu when it came to pure pulling strength and the unfortunate victim to experience it is, well are, the two pieces of paper in yours and his hand. “Great,“ you say, “if we forget to buy anythin' I'm blamin' ya.“

“This wouldn't have happened if ya just gave me the damn paper in the first place,“ huffs Atsumu.

You stuff the torn piece of paper in your pocket. “Where's Samu?“

“What am I? His babysitter?“

“No, that honour would be mine,“ you dead pan to his snarky question. Throwing a quick glance up and down the aisle you fail to notice your other brother between the customers. Well, whatever. He'll show up sooner or later. So you return your attention to tooth paste. Dad likes the blue one. Only there are at least four different blue ones.

“Just take the cheapest.“

“That one's digustin’.“

“If we buy the cheaper stuff we'll have more money left over to buy snacks!“

“Ooo,“ your eyes widen as you do the quick math, “Tsumu yer so smart!“ You grab two of the cheapest tubes. “Maybe we can even get Samu-nii to make us some onigiri...“ The mere thought of them makes your mouth water.

“Samu-nii?“ he frowns. “Ya never call me that.“

“Ya lost that privilege when ya framed me for eatin' his puddin'. We should get some hair dye too. Yer roots are starting to show.“ No way are you going to let your brother walk around with roots showing. Oh no. Not under your watch.“Maybe some purple shampoo but I don't see it anywhere...“

“What for?“

“So we can get ya a real nice platinum colour.“

“Nah, I like the one I have.“

You straighten up and give him a look of disbelief. “It's yellow.“

“Gold! It's gold! 'Cause I'm a champion!“

Right. “Whatever you need to tell yerself little brother.“

While he hisses back insults, because he's the oldest and how dare you disrespect him in the 7-Eleven of all places, you try to remember what the next thing on the shopping list was. Shampoo, right, check, dad's favourite shaving cream is already in the cart, as is deodorant you've gotten in a fight over with Atsumu just a minute ago (“I want this one!“

“Tsumu this one stinks like a teenage boy who hasn't showered in a week.“

“I AM A TEENAGE BOY!”). You should take one for Osamu too. Their morning squabbles weren't how you liked starting your day, not that a single deodorant would stop that but one can dream, right? Speaking of which, slowly it would be time to start looking for your always hungry triplet. Still ignoring Atsumu you head towards the food section.

Here's the thing about parrots. Just like cats they want attention when you have something more important to do. A cat will nudge you, lay over your books or keyboard or whatever you might be doing at the moment, maybe dug its claws in your leg or just straight up refuse to leave no matter how many times you push it away. A parrot on the other hand, will perch itself on your shoulder and scream till you give it what it wants.

That's what Atsumu is doing at the moment. Well, not the screaming part, though his blabbering is just as annoying. He's leaning on your shoulder, flicking your ear while you compare the prices of bonito flakes. “Stop that.“

“I'm gonna get chips.“

“Wait for-“

He's already walking away, pushing the cart and whistling, so you roll your eyes and return your attention back to the packages. Which one did mom say tasted weird again?

Here's another thing about parrots. As innocent as they may look to some, they do love creating this thing called chaos. And here's the thing about chaos. Unlike some other things it's worse in small dosages, because in small dosages it's funny. For example, a parrot filling your shoe with sunflower seeds.

Or a golden haired boy filling the shopping cart with bags of chips. There's barely enough space for those three packages in your arms.

“Mom's gonna go ballistic if we buy so much chips,“ you say looking at Atsumu trying to stuff one more bag in the cart.

“We'll just pay separately.“

Oh right. You could do that. And this time not fail to forget taking the receipt out of the bag before dad finds it. While Atsumu tries to decide which package of crab chips to take next (as if he could cram one more in the cart) you sneak in some small packets of super sour candy. For later. You never knew when Samu will itch and go through your secret stash.

As if he smelled you're collecting ingredients for a trap his gray hair appears on the other side of the aisle. “What's with all that?“ he asks when he sees half the cart is filled with snacks.

“Supplies.“

Osamu puts his hands in pockets. “Put them back.“

You blink. Twice. Then glance over at Atsumu who looks just as shocked as you. He narrows his eyes and pinches Osamu's cheek. “Ya feelin' alright Samu? Got fever?“ Osamu swats his hand away. “Who are ya and what have ya done with our brother?“

And his hands are empty too... The only time Osamu didn't come back carrying a bunch of food was when you were shopping at a shoe store.

“If we don't buy snacks we can get sushi,“ he says with an expression that clearly asks how you two idiots couldn't work that out on your own.

“Oooo,“ both your and Atsumu's eyes widen in awe. You could get sushi. You both look at all the tasty, tasty snacks in the cart. Sushi... Or maybe ramen. A new restaurant did open up the street just last month. But then you'll have no goodies for later... But it's sushi.

“Alright, I'll get these back!“ Atsumu grabs the bags and stacks them back on the shelf.

“Hey! I haven't agreed yet!“ you protest.

Osamu pats your shoulder. “Two to one.“

You roll your eyes. It wasn't the rule of 'two over one' overruling whatever your answer was going to be, it was more you hate being the losing one. Even when you get a reward. Even when the reward is tasty food.

At least mom's paying.

tagging: @espressons

#Miya Atsumu #miya osamu #miya twins #hqcorenet #miya atsumu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #atsumu x platonic!reader #osamu x platonic!reader #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu fanfic #inarizaki #the third miya #libri scribbles #can u tell I've been reading Terry Pratchett?

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softyoongiionly · 5 years ago

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Portraits of a Tiger|| 01

Legends of a great and equally terrifying warrior nicknamed the Tiger have been emerging from your fellow villagers for quite sometime. Stories of his skill, his stealth and his supposed wickedness have been passed around to the point where he is more prophecy than person. You have lived your life with a strong sense of conviction, rarely letting gossip influence your opinion. However, you would be lying if you said that his legacy didn’t intrigue you. When the Tiger and his infamous army arrive in your village to refuel, you come face to face with the man behind the myth.

And no amount of marketplace gossip would ever be enough to capture the true complexity of his nature.

Pairing: Merchant! Reader x Warrior! Yoongi

Genre: Adventure, Romance, Smut (later), Fluff, Angst

Word Count: 12k

Warnings: language, depictions of violence both verbal and physical however they are fairly mild, mentions of war and power dynamics, there will be smut in future parts so, (18+ only please).

Current Tag List: @bulletproofbirdy @gldnrecs @naajix @bluewhale52 @nikkikenji @lustedkisses

A/N: oh okayyyyy HELLO!!! Its here!!! Warrior! Yoongi is finally emerging from the depths of my writer blocked brain and I am SO happy you get to meet him. Once again, this series will be posted in parts just as Mama Mia! is and it may not necessarily follow a linear timeline.

Also, I know I mentioned her in the tag list post but, SERIOUSLY you guys this story would not be possible without my wonderful friend @bulletbroofbirdy aka Rachel who has literally spent so much time dreaming up with wonderful universe with me. My sweet angel, you are the greatest in the world and I love you. Please go follow Rachel and send her all the love in the universe and thank her for her genius brain because, without her, this fic wouldn’t exist.

War.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence where you’re from.

The ever-present shifting of the borderlines is a constant reminder of the struggle for power.

Many see it as a valiant effort, a noble cause...

But, war is something that doesn’t appeal to you.

It doesn’t sit right with your perspective on the world.

Sure, you understand it’s strengths and why it could be seen as necessary.

However, the consequences of war, of violence- never seem to be worth it.

Death.

It’s not an uncommon occurrence where you’re from.

When war is constantly raging on the background, it should be expected.

It should be normal.

To most of your district, it is.

To you?

Every single rise in the death toll sends icy despair into your heart.

Every drop of blood spilled feels as though it’s your own.

You’re desperate to find the solution for peace but, you know it’s not that simple.

Man is never content.

The struggle for power is never ending.

As you grow up, you learn to adapt.

Learning a trade is the easiest way to establish yourself so, you take up knitting and medicine.

You sell your wears and remedies in the market every other day and spend your off days replenishing the stock that you sold.

Your parents live comfortably but in order for them to do so, you’re in the market for hours on end.

Today starts as any other.

You’re gathering your wears in your family’s home as the sun is beginning to peak over the mountains.

The colors it throws through your window are breathtaking and, if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d be able to enjoy them a bit more.

Thankfully, your preparations don’t wake your parents as they sleep soundly in their bed.

You wish for nothing more than for them to be at peace every chance they get.

They have sacrificed so much.

The market displays its usual scenery.

The fishermen are always first setting up their catches from the evening prior, the butchers are hanging up their kills from the overnight hunt whilst the farmers arrange seasonal produce on their carts...

You always have your cart near the end of the market.

It’s easier for people to think about softer things such as knitted blankets or healing elixirs once they’ve purchased their food.

Thankfully, business is decent.

Your wares are well-made and your elixirs have an exceptional success rate.

The prices are fair so you attract all walks of life but, you focus more on serving the lower class folk such as yourself.

One of the fisherman, who you’ve grown acquainted with over the last few months, nods to your cart as you’re setting it up.

“What do you have today __?”

With a smile, you hold up a mauve woolen blanket which you’ve spent nearly two weeks on.

“This is the item of the day. I used a root dye to get the color- what do you think?”

He purses his lips, nodding in consideration, “I’m sure someone will snag that right away. It looks warm. It will be very useful over the next few months. Do you have any of that uh- “ Lowering his voice, he cranes his neck to assess whether or not any of his team can hear him, “ginseng mixture that you sold to me last week?”

You bite back a smirk as you nod towards the woven basket containing your various medicines, “I do. I made a new batch last night. Did you need some?”

A rapid nod is sent your way along with a handful of coins, “Thanks. It worked wonders last time. My wife sends her gratitude.”

Your cheeks heat up immediately but given that you’ve heard worse things in the market place, you merely giggle and file your payment away.

Ginseng is a natural stimulant that you often recommend to men experiencing issues with sex or fertility. Whilst you completely stand by its effectiveness, you won’t deny that it’s slightly awkward working with the men you’ve helped. Especially since they often insist on loudly announcing how many times they had sex the night before.

The rest of the setup goes smoothly and by the time the sun fully takes its place in the sky, you are ready for the market to open.

As your adjusting the sign on the front of your cart, you hear an interesting bout of conversation ignite in front of you

“Did you hear? The Royal Army is arriving today to refuel.”

“You’re lying. Are you serious? Do they- do you think they have him with them?”

“Of course! They aren’t stupid enough to travel without him. They’d be ambushed immediately.”

“Yah, what are you talking about?”

“The Tiger. He’s coming through town today.”

Instantly, your heart stalls in your chest.

You try your best to appear unbothered but, it doesn’t stop the panic from seeping into your bones.

The Tiger and the fleet of warriors he oversees are well-known in your village.

Word of mouth is truly a powerful mechanism for spreading information and, stories of The Tiger had been circulating for quite sometime.

They started out simply depicting a powerful new recruit into the Royal Army.

Despite his initial inexperience, The Tiger quickly rose through the ranks due to his otherworldly fighting skills.

According to the rumors, The Tiger was known for his silent destruction.

By the time his enemies could grasp what was happening, The Tiger and his men had already completed their mission.

They had already killed, maimed or destroyed whatever they were after.

A recent success had led to The Tiger becoming the General of the largest fleet in the Royal Army.

From what you had gathered, he wasn’t much older than you so the fact that he essentially lead an entire army is quite impressive.

However, given the stories of his cruel and cold blooded nature, it makes a lot of sense.

“I heard he beheads the enemy general on the battlefield after he wins...��

“I heard he killed 3,000 men all on his own in the middle of a thunderstorm!”

“I heard he keeps a viper on him at all times and he sets it loose on anyone he disobeys him!”

“I heard that he never sleeps.”

“Do you think he’ll come here? Would he be seen out in public like that?”

“Why wouldn’t he? He has nothing to fear, there isn’t a single soul in this village who could take him on.”

“Plus, he never travels alone. He’ll have his men with him.”

With a snort, you continue displaying your cart as normal and, only then do you realize that you stand out amongst the other merchants.

Every single one of them has an offering for the warriors.

It’s not customary to do so and, you’re only viable guess is that it has something to do with the market fawning over this tiger character.

“Were we supposed to put something out?” You murmur to the woman beside you, brows knitting in confusion.

She chuckles heartily, “When a normal fleet enters, no. We usually just offer them food and the resources we can spare.” A bit of excitement flashes through her eyes as she adjust the basket of radishes on her cart, “However, this is no ordinary fleet. I suggest you put something out too dear, that pretty face of yours could land you husband on the Tiger’s army, any one of his men would be a worthy mate. They aren’t shooting blanks like my husband over here!”

Her body jostles with laughter as she shoves her hand up against the man beside her, who looks whole-heartedly unamused.

“Jane, please...” He grumbles

You can’t help the grimace that comes across your face when Jane mentions finding a husband but, it’s quickly replaced with a mixture of amusement and sympathy.

“I have something for that.” You offer in a hushed tone and, the man seems to unfurl from his submissive position as he offers a meek smile.

“You do?”

You don’t have time to answer him before the mood of the market shifts into quiet chaos.

“I think they’re coming!” The fisherman whispers frantically, adjusting the sign on his cart for the millionth time.

As much you hate to give in to the hype, you feel compelled to go with the flow and, put something out for the warriors.

You settle on a basket of your most popular anti-inflammatory ailment that’s proven to be quite effective amongst your customers.

The long strips of white wood are haphazardly placed into a woven basket as you brace your ears for the piercing sound of trumpets.

Magnificent as the musicians in your village are, the blaring cacophony of noise is far from something you wish to be apart of this early in the morning.

However, the noise never comes.

The gates open up as normal as a reasonable size crowd begins meandering throughout the market.

You turn towards Jane with confusion painting your features, “Where’s the music?”

Jane is adjusting her radishes once again, glancing eagerly towards the crowd of people, “The Tiger does not allow fanfare of any kind. A far away village defied his orders once and played for him and his fleet anyway and- well...” She smirks bemusedly, “it didn’t end well for them, so we respect his wishes.”

Your eyes widen at that as you nod, swallowing back any fear that threatens to crawl up your throat.

“Got it.”

The usual slew of customers begin filing in and as business begins to pick up, you slowly forget about the famous warriors that were to enter.

Roughly, an hour later, your basket of willow bark remains untouched and, you begin to consider putting it back in its normal place. This particular bark is quite annoying to obtain and you don’t feel great about giving it away to some warrior after you’ve spent hours trying to procure it.

However, as you glance at other offering baskets, you notice that some of them have been emptied.

This means of course that either your fellow merchants put their offerings away or, the warriors are already in the market.

A strange and unsettling feeling washes over you at the thought of deadly warriors perusing throughout town. You expected that they would be recognizable, especially given their reputation but, nothing seems to give away their presence.

As a paying customer leaves your cart with an armful of various items, you notice something that normally doesn’t garner your attention: hair.

You see it amongst the crowd, peeking over the tops of heads.

It’s a shimmering icy platinum and it’s tied up atop a strangers head with a beaded string. It moves throughout the crowd slowly, stopping at various points, likely exchanging words with another merchant before you finally make out the face it belongs to.

A man dressed in cotton linens maneuvers out of the crowd, dark eyes scanning his surroundings almost anxiously. As he moves closer to you, you’re able to fully take in his features.

Pointed and smooth, his face is the epitome of contradiction.

Deep brown eyes, rounded button-nose, pouty lips and strong eyebrows adorn his face whilst his rather large hand flexes instinctually towards the object hanging off of his hips.

It’s a sword.

This man certainly isn’t a civilian.

Unfortunately, you’re unable to ignore the beauty he possesses. He is quite ethereal once you get a closer look at him; you don’t think you’ve ever seen another person that looks quite like him.

As he speaks with the fisherman, your ears perk up to in an attempt to hear the sound of his voice.

Faintly, you can discern a bit of rasp and calculation in his tone but, you aren’t able to absorb it over the sound of the market.

Its then you realize that you’ve been staring at this stranger for far too long and, if you’re ever going to meet your quota today, you need to avoid distractions.

You sell another one of your blanket moments later, increasing your daily total by a reasonable amount. Making blankets is enjoyable yes but, it’s extremely time consuming so it feels good when someone rewards you for your hard work.

“Please have some radishes! They’re grown in top soil from the northern region! It gives them a certain uh- “ Jane’s shrill voice pulls your attention towards her cart which now brandishes a new visitor: the stranger with the blonde hair.

You're realizing that Jane is pausing mid-sentence because, she is desperately looking to you for answers.

You've assisted Jane with her produce before as she was having trouble with the flavor of some of her vegetables. This was mainly due to the fact that she had been using the wrong kind of fertilizer but, you had also given her several tips to improve the overall taste of her produce.

“A certain crunch...” You finish for her, stabilizing your tone as you brave a glance towards the man. “The mixture of the soils helps with the texture.”

His feline gaze rushes towards you at the sound of your voice, as if he wasn’t expecting you to speak.

At the sight of you, his lips part momentarily before quickly sealing in a tight lipped smile which directs toward Jane.

“Thank you.” He nods toward her as he takes one of the radishes and tucks it into the pocket of his linen pants.

“Of course! Um thank you- sir for your...services...” She stutters and it’s then you notice that she hasn’t made eye contact throughout the entirety of their conversation.

A bit of discomfort flashes through his eyes but otherwise, he merely grunts in acknowledgement.

Jane’s comment is the last bit of confirmation you need that this man is indeed a warrior.

However, his reaction to her words strikes you as odd. Warriors rarely shy away from gratitude. They are often proud and boastful regarding their positions but, he seems to be bothered by what she said.

The man never looks back at Jane as he makes his way to the next cart. Every so often, you notice him looking over his shoulder or glancing towards the entrances/exits of the market. His presence doesn’t necessarily make you uneasy but, his behavior sure does.

He acts as though he is in danger.

It puts you on edge but, you direct your attention back to the customer in front of you.

“Good morning.” You smile, “Anything catch your eye?”

The man cards a hand through his salt and pepper hair as he leans over your cart, eagerly scanning the items you have on display.

“Eh do you have anything for dry skin? With winter around the corner, I gotta start thinking about this old skin of mine. The wind does a lot of damage on my knuckles.”

“You know what? I think I have just the thing...” You bend down to access the crate beneath your counter and grab a medium sized glass bottle, “This is an olive oil and honey treatment, it will treat dry skin immediately but, it’s meant to treat dry skin over a longer period of time too. I also-” You bend down once more to grab a tin of cocoa butter and place it on the counter top, “have this. This should help with daily wear and tear. You only need a little bit so this tin should last you through the winter.”

The man smiles eagerly and quickly reaches for his pockets before he freezes. You don’t notice until you look up from your counter but, the platinum haired warrior is back and, he’s standing right behind your customer.

“O-Oh go ahead, go ahead. I uh- I'll go next...” The man stutters, gesturing frantically to your cart.

With a quirked brow the warrior moves to step in front of him until you raise your hand.

“No sir, it’s ok. You’re in the middle of a transaction.” You insist, eyeing the warrior sternly, “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

The immediate crowd surrounding your cart seems to pause, nervously glancing towards the warrior who merely nods and steps back into place.

The shock is apparent on the faces of the crowd but you ignore it and send a reassuring smile towards your customer, “Ok, that will be 11.50 and-” You slide a bundle of rosemary towards him, “take this too, on the house. Brew it in some hot water to aid digestion, winter food tends to be a bit harsher on the system.”

The man swallows nervously, dragging his items toward his chest, “Thank you—uh so much. Thank you.” He turns towards the warrior, directing his gaze towards his feet as he bows his head, “Thank you for your service...”

The man doesn’t allow the warrior time to respond before he rushes off back into the crowd but, you get the feeling that it wouldn’t matter regardless.

The warrior doesn’t seem interested in anyone’s gratitude.

“Let me know if you have any questions.” You nod your head towards him, pushing the basket with your offering towards the edge of the counter before busying yourself with putting a few things back in their place.

He says nothing but, he approaches the counter whilst his eyes shrewdly observe the ins and outs of your set up.

He’s even more striking up close. His smooth, tan skin is mostly unmarked except for the giant scar running down the center of his right eye. It goes up the center of his eyelid and disappears right above the center of his brow. It’s still red and angrily risen against his otherwise angelic looking face.

A warrior indeed.

The bit of people around your cart haven’t stopped their staring but, they are at least making an attempt to look like they aren’t paying attention. It doesn’t stop you from wishing that you didn’t have an audience.

“Tree bark?” He questions with an arch to his brow

You look towards the basket he’s gesturing to before returning your gaze back to his.

“White willow bark.” You correct, almost defensively and it cause his lips to twitch.

“Is this some kind of decoration?”

You shake your head, placing your fingers on the edge of the basket, “No. It’s meant to be chewed. It reduces inflammation. I figured it would be useful since I imagine you deal with muscle soreness quite often.”

He smirks, “Amongst other things yes,” With long elegant fingers, he points to the basket, “So- if I chew on this, I should feel relief from any pain I might be experiencing?”

An all too rapid nod comes from you as you continue your explanation, “Well it’s mainly used to treat pain in your muscles and joints. If you’re looking to treat other types of pain, I have other options...”

He shakes his head, his hair swishing to the side as he does, “This should do, thank you.”

You suspect that he’s done, given that the bark is (annoyingly) free and he’s only seemed to be interested in the offerings thus far so, he surprises you when he asks yet another question.

“Do you have any more of that salve?”

“Of course,” You offer him a smile now that the initial tension is starting to lift, “Did you want a big tin or small tin?”

He purses his lips in thought, looking towards his hands, “What do you recommend?”

Without a second thought, you step towards him and take one of his hands, bringing it closer to your face for inspection.

The man seems to freeze in place, eyes widening in absolute shock, his own limb betraying him as it goes limp.

His hand displays evidence of the life he lives.

Rough, calloused and blistered...

His nails are bitten down to a point that almost looks painful but, the thing that stands out the most is how beautiful his hand is to you.

The strength in his skin is palpable and the indigo veins protruding against his hand are a firm reminder of what he is likely capable of.

What you don’t notice however, is the utter panic that flushes across his face or the way his eyes dart nervously between you and his hand.

Just as you would during any consultation, you briefly run your fingers over the palm of his hand and up the length of each of his fingers

“Hmm I would recommend the big tin, I think...you have a lot of rough spots but the skin between your callouses is quite smooth so,” You carefully set his hand back onto the counter and return your eyes back to his, “what that tells me is that your skin is roughened by your environment rather than by an actual lack of moisture.” You slide the big tin towards him, “Apply this to the dryer areas as needed throughout the day but, every night before you go to bed, make sure to put this on. Sleeping with it will allow it to seep into your skin and heal the dryness over time.”

The warrior’s eyes are transfixed on you and for a moment he is completely speechless, his hand lingering on the counter before hurriedly places them back at his side.

He can’t understand you and why you just touched him.

But what’s worse, is he can’t understand why his mouth is suddenly dry.

Or why his skin is on fire...

Or why his heart is thrashing around in his chest.

He clears his throat and nods, “Very good. I’ll be sure to follow your instructions.” He sticks the hand you didn’t touch into his pocket, fishing around for something, “What’s my total?”

“That will be 3.50.” You say with a smile, holding out your hand.

He dispenses his payment into your palm before stowing his items away in his free pocket.

“Thank you.” He grunts, the hand you touched still kind of awkwardly lingering away from his body.

Was he going to wash it as soon as he got the chance?

Did you smell weird?

“Of course, have a nice day. Safe travels.” With a wave, you send him off, missing the small smile that momentarily appears on his face.

You’re genuinely relieved that the encounter is over but, you’d be lying if you said that it didn’t intrigue you.

Before you’re able to get your bearings and move on, Jane is rushing over to you frantically.

“What on Earth was that??? Do you know him??? Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?!” She swats your arm, her eyes wide with incredulity.

“Ow!” You grip your arm, “What are you talking about?”

The man has already disappeared back into the crowd but, you’re still attempting to keep your voice at a reasonable level.

Jane does not follow suit.

“You just put your hands on the Tiger!” Jane shrieks causing you to recoil in response, “He could kill you for that! What were you thinking?”

“He’s going to kill me because I touched his hand?” Your brow arches in amusement, as your lips threaten to smile, “I had no idea who he was Jane, I was just helping a paying customer.”

She doesn’t like your answer and quickly swats your arm again, “Y/N this is not a joke! He’s a dangerous man. I nearly fainted when you looked him in his eyes but, then you touched him and-”

“Jane, that’s enough.” The fisherman hisses, gesturing wildly to the crowd of people, “You’re making a scene and he’s still out here somewhere.”

She huffs her hands rushing to smooth out the apron over her dress before rushing a finger into your face, “You won’t be laughing if he shows up at your house with a sword in your face. You need to be careful.”

You smirk at this but otherwise comply, not wishing to fire her up any further, “Thank you for your concern Jane, I’ll make sure to carry my sword around too, you know, just in case.”

Jane snorts then and rolls her eyes, scurrying back to her cart and mumbling something along the lines of:

“That mouth is going to get you killed...”

You can’t help but giggle.

There’s no doubt that the man you just spoke to was a warrior and, maybe he was some almighty warrior but he other than an intense staring problem, he didn’t scare you at all.

Thankfully, business is booming for the remainder of the day and although you’re thrilled at the money you’ll be taking home, you aren’t looking forward to all the replenishing you have to do.

The last order of business before heading home is picking a few things for your parents and grabbing the last of the steamed buns for your best friend.

Rachel has lived beside you ever since you can remember. The two of you spent most of your childhood running around the village, causing mini bouts of chaos everywhere you went. Despite the challenges life had brought the both of you, you grew together rather than apart.

Rachel is the village’s most treasured teacher and she’s been running the school for the past few years. She’s kind of the best and, you have a feeling she’ll be interested to hear about the rather interesting events that had transpired over the course of your day.

As you turn down the dirt path towards her home, you start to wonder where the Tiger and his fleet would be staying.

Your village wasn’t run-down but it wasn’t exactly luxurious by any standards.

The rubble near the beginning of the street along with the various empty wooden barrels doesn’t exactly count as décor and, the occasional drunken argument outside the village’s tavern certainly doesn’t add any class to the area but, its home.

Rachel's house is easy to spot amongst the rest of the street as it’s the only one completely covered in plants.

She’s had a love of greenery for quite sometime and, it’s amongst the many things you two bond over.

Adjusting the bag on your shoulder, you immediately reach for the handle and use all your weight to shove the front door open.

Rachel is sitting on her sofa and despite the fact that she was expecting you, she still jumps at the sound.

“Oh my goodness!” She exclaims “Have you ever heard of knocking???”

You giggle but otherwise ignore her and lean against the door dramatically, “Rachel, you better get one last look at me because, this might be the last time you ever see me.”

She laughs lightly and folds her arms, “What did you do this time? Did you call the apothecary a fraud again?” Wiggling her fingers, she reaches out for the snacks your holding.

“Ok first of all, he is a fraud but no....it’s much much worse.” You shove the snacks into her awaiting hands before flopping down on the armchair, “I touched a man’s hand...”

She freezes, the bun lingering near her mouth, “Alright, now I am officially curious, why is hand touching worse?”

You smirk, “I touched...the Tiger’s hand” You point a finger at her quickly as her lips part, “Before you even make the joke, no it wasn’t a real tiger...it was THE tiger.”

Rachel snorts with laughter before going wide-eyed in shock, “You...wha--the Tiger? THE Tiger??? You TOUCHED the Tiger?!!?!? What were you thinking?!? Oh my god, did he bite? Wait, focus, Rachel---Why did you touch the Tiger?!?”

Whilst she’s rambling on you burst out in a fit of giggles, snuggling back against the chair, “He came to my cart looking for a good salve for his hands. All I did was do an assessment as I normally do to see what he needed. I don’t understand why everyone is freaking out...he seemed pretty harmless to me.”

She leans forward on the couch, “Harmless? He seemed...harmless?!?” She whispers frantically, “He has personally slain hundreds of men with those very hands!!!

“Why are we whispering?...”

Rachel returns to normal volume, rolling her eyes “Fine. More like thousands if you count how many his army has obliterated. And you just pawed at him--are you insane? He has killed people for less! At least that’s what the rumors say.”

You keep giggling, completely unfazed as you make yourself at home, “The rumors also say that he killed an entire village because they played their trumpets for him. I don’t know how credible these rumors are.”

“Well....what was he like then? You cannot drop this information on me and not give me every detail.” She insists, gesturing wildly at you before leaning back and sipping from her mug.

“Uh he was fine. I mean- he was normal I guess, I don’t know. He has really long hair, its blonde- like really blonde. He looks young, way younger than I thought he’d be. He has a big scar over his eye. Jane was practically drooling over him...”

Realization crosses Rachel’s face as she watches you intently. She relaxes back into her chair as a knowing smile spreads across her face, “Ohhhh young, blonde, mysterious...Jane must really HAVE been drooling. Seems like she’s not the only one, though...”

“I mean- the fisherman guys were pretty excited too I guess. I don’t know what the big deal is honestly, I know he’s supposed to be good on the battlefield but they were treating him like he was some kind of king or something.” You narrow your eyes “Are you suggesting I was drooling over him? Because I definitely wasn’t...I even told him to wait his turn in line.” You insist, shifting around on the chair.

Rachel crosses her legs dramatically, steeping her fingers as she observes you, “Was that before or after you found out he was handsome? Hmm?” She smirks again, holding her hands up innocently, “I am implying nothing, I am just NOTICING that you are definitely affected by him. I haven’t seen you impressed by....well, anyone.”

She’s not wrong.

“Hey hey whoa...who said anything about impressed?? I’m not impressed. I’m not impressed at all.”

Rachel eyes you suspiciously”...right...not impressed at all. Well, did you at least hear anything about them? Any word on how long the army will be here? We’ve got to be the safest village in the country as long as they are in town.” Suddenly, she facepalms in realization, “My students will be so distracted as long as they are here.”

“Not impressed. He’s just a man with a scar and sword...” You insist, twiddling your thumbs “I guess they are just refueling, I’m not sure how long they will be here. Jane told me I need to watch my back so, hopefully not for long...” You giggle again, thinking of how excited the schoolchildren will be now that the legendary Tiger is in town, “maybe you can make an assignment out of it...”

She stares off into space for a moment and mutters, “that’s not a bad idea...we could get outside, maybe a soldier could come speak to them? There’s got to be at least one that’s not terrifying?...” Rachel shakes her head, unimpressed with your lack of understanding, “Just a man with a scar and sword—he is the most feared military leader of our generation! And I wouldn’t worry TOO much about watching your back. After all—none of the legends involve the Tiger killing civilians, do they? At the very least his presence here means good business for the village. If you can get the Tiger as a repeat customer I can only imagine the profits you’ll turn at that little stall!” She muses, laugh heartily, “Buy the salve that soothed a beast! I can hear the gossip already...”

You point a finger at her, “I like the way you think. If you ever want to stop educating and enriching the minds of our youth and be my business partner, let me know...” Suddenly the humor within you dissipates as the reality of your situation seems to sink in, “You don’t think I should be worried though right?”

Rachel lets out a short laugh, “Thanks for the offer...” She shakes her head, “As far as this Tiger business is concerned...I don’t think your safety is under any threat. How did he react when you touched him? Did he seem angry?”

“He just froze...” You recall, your eyes unfocusing slightly, “It was kind of weird honestly. I’ve never had anyone do that before. It’s pretty normal to get checked out during an apothecary visit. I guess I wasn’t supposed to look at him either but, how the hell am I supposed to do an exam if I can’t look at his face?”

“Hmmm...that is strange. I’ll be honest, I thought he would have scolded you or pulled away based on the stories. Unless...” Rachel slumps back against her sofa, her face relaxing into a smirk, “...he was just as surprised by you as you were of him.”

You wrinkle your nose, “Ew no. Definitely not.”

Rachel doesn’t look convinced but you continue nevertheless, suddenly wishing to change the subject.

“He looked nervous I guess- I don’t know. His hand just sort of hung there after I finished. Today was weird...anywayyy-” You nod to the dough between your palms, “How are the buns? Did anything interesting happen in the education world.”

“Oh three boys got in a worm eating contest and threw up on their practice parchment so I could go without that kind of interesting for awhile. The buns are transcendent as usual but you-” She narrows her eyes in your direction, “- are dodging. Why would a general be nervous around you hmm? You said he is young...is he also handsome?”

“Ah god I love kids...” You note with a giggle before shrugging, shrinking back into the chair, “I don’t know. Objectively he- he definitely wasn’t ugly.”

Rachel raises an eyebrow, “I sense there is more to it than that.”

“Fine. He was easily the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in my life. There! Are you happy now?” You grumble before dramatically staring off into the distance, “Oh to be murdered by the most handsome man alive...how romantic.”

This prompts a twinkling bout of laughter from Rachel who has finally finished the first of her many snacks, “I can think of worse ends my friend. Perhaps that was your only interaction? I am sure he is busy making preparations; too busy to be executing smart-mouthed apothecaries. I wouldn’t fret too much Y/N.”

With you sigh, you accept her analysis, sending a nod her way, “You’re probably right and, that’s probably for the best.” Despite the conviction in your tone, you can feel the disappointment on your face, “Thank you for calling my mouth smart.” You smirk before nodding toward the door, “I should probably head home. My father has a nasty cough and I seriously doubt he’s taken the medicine I left for him.”

Meeting you at the door, Rachel pulls you in for a big hug, “The smartest mouth in town- that's why I keep you around. Give your father my love and tell him, if he gives you a hard time—I will find out!”

You laugh, hugging her tightly, “The second smartest mouth in town...” You insist, “let’s do the tavern this weekend please. The children have been taking all your time and I miss my best friend!”

“Of course! No pack of tiny ruffians can get between me and a night out.”

You pat her shoulder gently before stepping out of the doorframe, “That’s right.” You smile, thankful to have someone like her in your life, “love you, have a good night.”

“Good night, sleep tight...” She sings, slowly closing the door, “don’t let the Tiger bite!” She laughs wildly before slamming the door shut to prevent your retaliation.

She’s a menace.

The walk back home is pleasant, the fall breeze nips at your skin through your sweater but, it feels refreshing against your flushed cheeks.

Your parents are asleep by the time you return home.

It’s common for you to arrive well past their bedtime but, despite your lack of contact, they still manage to make you feel loved.

On the kitchen table sits bowl of stew and freshly baked bread, along with a new blanket for the winter.

Your mom makes a fresh one everywhere with thicker fabric to combat the icy freeze of the winter climate. The stew will be cold but, your heart will be warm and your stomach will be full.

In truth, these are the only things that matter to you.

Living simple certainly has it’s drawbacks but overall, you are comforted by it. Your parents raised you to be thankful for the things you have and to only set your sights on obtaining things that truly matter to you. It doesn’t mean that you shouldn’t have goals but, your parents have always stressed that external success can be fickle and, material possessions only take you so far.

Being content is truly priceless and, you’re thankful they instilled these values into you.

Climbing into bed, you allow your mind to wander to the man you met today.

You couldn’t quite understand the legend behind him. Not to say that he wasn’t worthy of such folklore but, it’s more so that you didn’t exactly understand the warnings behind it.

He didn’t seem scary.

Although, it’s possible his demeanor is something he uses along with his beauty.

It could be that the Tiger lives up his animal comparison.

Beautiful and deadly.

Village gossip shouldn’t keep you awake longer than necessary, you think, it’s time to rest up so that tomorrow’s work day doesn’t feel like a never-ending task.

With the sound of the whistling wind just outside your home, you slowly close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

Your plan for a peaceful nights rest is completely demolished when you feel the frantic hands of your mother shaking you awake.

“Y/N! Wake up! Wake up! Raiders- they are raiders outside, hurry!” She drags the covers off of you, “We have to go!”

In a haphazard blur, you spring to your feet and arm yourself with a few important possessions and your sword.

Your parents tow behind you as you make your way out of your home.

The village is in utter chaos; shouting, clanking metal, screaming, amber flames peaking out from above the rooftops.

You grab your mothers arm, keeping her close to you as you try your best to follow procedures.

Like most smaller villages, your area is equipped with a protocol that will ensure the least amount of damage if there were to be an invasion.

Collect the essentials and gather your loved ones

Arm yourself

Make your way to the town square; there is strength in numbers.

Allow the raiders to take what they want (with the exception of human lives)

Negotiate

Simple in theory but, rarely in practice.

It’s difficult to keep up with a protocol during times of intense stress.

Amidst the chaos, you see Rachel scrambling out of her house, with a bag slung over her shoulder.

You cry out for her, desperately hoping she will hear your voice over the madness,

“Rachel! Over here!”

With wide eyes, she reaches out for your mother’s hand, bowing her head to shield from any possible debris.

“The army is here, they will protect us.” Your father murmurs solemnly beside you, his face stoic and rid of any bit of positivity

This could end very badly.

The four of you rush into the town square, trying your best to remain calm throughout the screaming, back up against a wall. Your grip tightens on your mothers hand as you spot the tents of the armed guests currently residing in your village.

The raiders continue their plundering throughout the town accompanied by the sounds of glass breaking and shouting.

Suddenly, there is a different sound: the clanking of swords. Briefly, you can see glimpses of armor peeking out of homes, the sight causing your eyes to widen.

“Look!”

Rachel and your parents crane their necks to see what you’re pointing out as the sounds coming from within your village begin to change.

Grunting, groaning, more clanking swords and a bit of shouting shoot out of the main street like fireworks.

“Clear the path!” An unfamiliar voice shouts and it’s then you can see what’s going on.

The raiders have been captured thanks to the ominous group of tourists that arrived yesterday.

Oddly enough, you don’t even remember seeing them leave their tents and it makes you wonder how the hell they managed to move so quickly undetected.

There are several men, dressed in black and gold armor, dragging the raiders by their shirts to the center of town square. One of them is a tall, doe eyed looking man with shaggy brown hair and biceps that could likely snap a neck if they so desired. He has his sword to the back of one of the raiders who scuffles along on his knees to meet with the rest of his captured teammates.

As the rest of the soldiers file in, another leader of the troop, tall and equally broad, gestures to Bambi with the biceps.

“Jungkook-ah! Bring the leader to the center; let our general deal with him.”

Jungkook does just that, quickly the toe of his boot into the back of the raider and jerking his head to the center of the plaza, “You heard him- move.” He grunts and the raider reluctantly shuffles forward.

Your fellow villagers are reasonably alarmed but, they all seem to freeze in place as they watch the show unravel before them.

This is already more excitement than your village has had in ages and, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t eating it up.

The man who has now been identified as Jungkook, steps away from the raider, still pointing his sword at him, a smug smirk on his face, “You know for a master thief, you were far too easy to catch. Lucky for me, I made a bet with my brothers here that I would catch you in 10 minutes,” Jungkook walks back towards the man, entangling his fingers in the roots of his hair before tugging backwards, “, and according to the clock tower, it only took me 8.”

Beside you, Rachel seems to swallow back her surprise before subconsciously starting to fan her face,

“Goodness, he really is something huh?”

Despite the tense nature of the situation, her demeanor makes you giggle,

“Stop drooling over the calvary...”

She smacks you playfully which causes your father to shush both of you, a moment which reminds you of your schoolyard days.

A bit of immaturity is actually refreshing after the events of this morning.

“Jungkook-ssi,” A voice bellows throughout the plaza, sending a chill down your spine, “What have I told you about placing bets on our captors huh?”

As the voice grows louder, you see him: the Tiger, stepping out from the main street, his long platinum hair flowing freely in the wind. His hand brandishes a sword, one that most certainly possesses the ability to inflict some serious harm.

Sheepishly, Jungkook smirks, releasing the man’s hair roughly and stepping back to his original spot, his sword posing to strike.

“Sorry hyung, this one was just too easy. I saw him skirting the perimeter last night, I know it would be a sure win once I saw his technique.”

So that’s how the army was able to move so quickly; they already anticipated this attack.

The Tiger chuckles darkly, his eyes alight with pure delight, “Aish- what am I going to do with you people hm?”

He moves like his name; slow, deliberate, deadly- you know that you’re about to witness an execution and you aren’t sure if you can stomach the sight, even if these raiders deserve it.

Its your turn to swallow back your reaction to him which doesn’t go unnoticed by your best friend standing beside you.

“Now look who’s drooling...” She teases, giggling as you playfully shove your elbow into her side.

The crowd is dangerously still, hanging on each syllable the Tiger speaks whilst his men, six other soldiers roughly his size, watch intently.

The rest of the raider clan are being held captive by the remainder of the fleet, bowing their heads in shame and fear but, the leader seems unaffected by their defeat.

“You lot aren’t men.” The man spits, his accent thick, “you’re narcissistic little boys who like to play dress up. You’re cowards, hiding behind your swords, killing everything that stands in your way. You have no idea how the other half live. You have no honor.”

There are gasps throughout the crowd then as your village grows shocked at the way he’s spoken to the Tiger.

If you had any hope that this wouldn’t end violently, it’s been squashed by the time the leader finishes his sentence.

The Tiger however, merely chuckles again, a light smirk on his carnation lips,

“It’s odd that a man who earns his keep by stealing from others would have the authority to lecture my men and I about honor.” He kisses his teeth and slowly raises his sword to brush against the man’s cheek, “Look at all these poor people hm? You've terrified them. Your lack of intelligence isn’t their burden to bear now is it? But you have made it their problem; ripped them from their homes, terrorized their children, their livelihoods and, all because you’re too incompetent to learn your own trade.”

The Tiger’s words infuriate him and the next thing you know, he’s lunging off the ground towards the Tiger, a snarl arising on his mouth.

It prompts your hands to fly to your face and your feet to nearly trip over themselves as you brace for the inevitable fight.

But it doesn’t come.

With one swoop of his arm, the Tiger has the leader knocked to the floor and underneath his leather boot. Jungkook has reacted quickly as well, his arm raising in the air to slice his sword through the man’s body. With one twitch of his hand however, the Tiger stops Jungkook from following through,

“See? You can’t do things like that my friend. Because if you do, my big friend here with the sword will slice your greasy head in two.” The Tiger smirks again, before turning his head over his shoulder, “You folks wouldn’t want to spend the day cleaning blood of your beautiful plaza now would you?”

Overexcited villagers quickly shout various commentary at him,

“Kill him!”

“Cut his head off!”

“Make him pay!”

The Tiger chuckles once more, raising his brows as the man struggles beneath his boot, “Well, I guess you’re lucky they aren’t in charge of your punishment...” He looks up towards the remainder of his fleet, nodding his head at the other prisoners, “Namjoon, Jin: ensure that none of these men are here against their will. If the rest of you are here by choice, I suggest you make yourselves disappear into the forest before I allow these fine people to get ahold of you.”

Immediately, the Tiger’s fleet begin following his orders and take the men away towards their tents. As they walk out of the plaza, only Jungkook, the Tiger and the clan leader remain.

You notice Jungkook scan the crowd then, peering out at the eager faces watching the show he is willingly apart of. Very briefly but noticeably, his eyes land on your best friend and as they do, they seem to linger.

He looks curious, almost boyish in a way as his ways seem to memorize her face but before Rachel even realizes what’s going on, his eyes quickly return to the raider.

“If you’re going to kill me, just do it. Don’t be a coward, I can’t listen to you ramble any longer.” The man growls which prompts the Tiger to push his foot down a little harder upon his back.

“I’m not your executioner, thief. Your fate resides with the Queens.” He explains, matter of factly before jerking his head towards Jungkook, “Put him in the portable cell. I’ll send a notice to the council that we have a criminal that needs to be dealt with.”

Jungkook nods, eagerly crossing the bit of plaza and kneeling down to restrain the man with handcuffs.

He grips the chain linking them and heaves him upwards so he’s standing between the two men.

“I’ll hose him off first,” Jungkook wrinkles his nose in disgust, “I don’t want him stinking up our camp.”

“Fuck you-” The man spits, jerking his wrists in Jungkook’s grip which then causes the Tiger to raise his sword once again.

“Behave yourself, thief.” He commands, his eyes darkening for the first time, “I’m assuming if you’ve heard stories of my fleet, you are privy to the fact that we don’t miss our target. Please don’t give me a reason to live up to my name.”

With that, the two men drag off the clan leader towards the rest of their fleet, not bothering to look back at the dozens of people they just saved.

They ignore the applause, the gratitude, the pleas for them to return and feast.

You have to admit that you’re shocked.

The supposedly wicked and ruthless Tiger sure seems to have quite a bit of restraint and diplomacy.

“Did he- did he really just let him go? Unharmed?”

Rachel asks a very good question and it seems to be the one on your parents minds as well.

“It’s extremely odd. I was fully prepared to witness an execution, he would have been within his right.” Your father notes, his eyes still trained on the center of the plaza.

Generals have a certain level of freedom with the prisoners they choose to capture; they are expected to have good judgement and carry out punishments if necessary.

In essence, the Tiger had every bit of authority to end that mans life and, given that he an eager crowd behind him, it genuinely perplexes you.

“Organized raids come with an automatic life sentence, the leaders are usually executed within a few days of their trial.” Your mother notes and it’s then that Rachel notices your silence.

“Well I think it’s safe to say that you didn’t make it on his hit list. You can’t be worse than a lead raider...” She grins, knowing full well that your confusion also comes with an annoying amount of curiosity.

She also knows that you plan on finding a way to speak with him again.

And she is absolutely right.

--------------------------

“Should I say hi to Jungkook for you? Ask if he’s betrothed?” You tease and Rachel promptly throws balled up dress your way.

You went to her house after the excitement in the town square to bake a batch of fresh bread for the Tiger’s fleet.

Bread is increasingly hard to come by these days due to a crop shortage in the northern region so despite what people may think, most military diets consist of salted meat and corn.

Doughy, fluffy, cheesy, rosemary bread is a luxury.

“I have a feeling you’ll be preoccupied with your mission to court the Tiger.” She retorts but a deep frown comes over her then, as she wraps the last loaf in parchment paper, “Are you sure you should be doing this? Waltzing over to a tent full of dangerous soldiers doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“I want to thank them.” You insist, loading your basket with the rest of the loaves, glancing up at your worried friend, “All the village ever talks about is how ruthless they are, how cruel they are known to be but, the reality is: they saved us. It must be frustrating to refuel just as any other fleet would and have people gossip about you or fear you unnecessarily. I’m not planning on staying for tea or anything, I just want to show my appreciation.”

Rachel raises her brows, “That’s all hm?”

You nod, “Yep.” Your lips pop with the sound of the p and Rachel remains unconvinced.

“This has nothing to do with the Tiger?”

“Of course not.” Your answer tumbles past your lips far too quickly and, it causes your friend to grin knowingly at you.

“I know that look-”

“Ugh what look?”

“The look. That one-” She points at you, “You’re about to do something you know you shouldn’t.”

Her smile is far too contagious and her knowledge of you surpasses anyone you’ve ever known in your life.

She has your number and there really is no point in lying to her.

“Fine, ok maybe it has a little something to do with the Tiger-” You smirk, trying to stifle the giggle that threatens your disposition, “Don’t laugh at me!”

Rachel’s twinkling laughter fills the room as she rounds the counter. Placing her hands on your shoulders, she smiles fondly at you, “Just be careful ok? I know he intrigues you and honestly I’m not at all surprised but, don’t let your curiosity get in the way of your safety. That’s the most important thing.”

“I won’t.” You promise, smiling back at her, placing your hands on hers, “I promise, I’ll be careful.”

Rachel helps you out once again, insuring you have everything you need before her soft voice is answering a question you asked moments earlier.

“And uh about that Jungkook boy-”

You smirk, “He’s definitely not a boy, did you see his muscles? He looks like he could bench press a mountain lion.”

She grows flustered, “No, I didn’t see any muscles, I have no idea what you’re talking about-”

“Oh so you also didn’t notice him staring at you in the plaza today right?”

Rachel’s eyes widen, “Wait he was?” She clears her throat, amending her eagerness as you giggle, “He definitely wasn’t staring at me don’t be ridiculous. What I was going to say-”

“What you were going to say is that ‘no Y/N, I don’t want you to check on Jungkook’s marital status directly but, should you happen to come across his left hand, let me know whether or not you see a shiny band around his finger, not that I would care or anything. Because, I totally don’t have the hots for him.’ “

Her mouth opens and then closes like a fish before she playfully nudges you through her doorway, “Shut up.”

With a laugh and a few parting words, you are off to visit the tent of your village's heroes.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous.

But you’d also be lying if you said you were nervous for the right reasons.

The concept of walking into the basecamp of a supposedly elite and ruthless fleet is one thing but, talking to someone you find attractive?

Absolutely terrifying.

Your presence is immediately noted by the men inside the camp.

Two of them are seated at a table outside of one of the tents, hands and teeth full of meat, their motions freezing in place as they see you.

As you pass by one of their horses, you notice of them is speaking with a group of raiders.

The conversation seems amicable, suggesting that many of the raider clan was indeed in your village against their will.

You approach the main but, before you are able to make ring the bell on the outside, you are crashing chest first into a very firm and very broad chest.

“Holy-” The voice sounds familiar and as you look up, you are meet with the bambi with biceps himself: Jungkook.

“Hello I-” You attempt to begin but his panicked voice interrupts you.

“Yah hyung??? Uh there’s a-” He swallows thickly stepping away from you, “There’s a girl here!”

The word seems foreign on his tongue and his behavior genuinely surprises you.

Where was the cocky warrior from this morning, brandishing a sword and placing bets on his captors?

“Jungkook, for the last time- we don’t use that word. We say young lady or woman...” Another voice, one you don’t recognize fades into your scope of hearing before pushing open the fabric of the tent. He is arguably just as beautiful as the other men, tall, dark haired, buff- as if he would be anything else.

“Oh, hello. Are you...” The man narrows his brows as he looks towards the group of raiders speaking with one of his counterparts, “Are you with the group or?”

You shake your head, your basket swinging when you turn back towards the village, “Oh no, no I’m from the village. My name is Y/N Y/L/N...” You bow your head slightly, “I came here to bring you this,” You gesture to the basket, “It’s fresh bread. I wanted to thank you for saving my people today.”

You feel the need to rush out your explanation as the rest of the fleet continues to stare at you. In fact, the way they are looking at you is rather unnerving.

It isn’t disrespectful just intrusive; they are looking at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head.

“You-” The man before you cocks his head, looking befuddled, “You came here to- thank us?”

“Well yes, I know bread is hard to come by and I figured you could use a pick-me-up after your fight this morning.”

He smiles now but his incredulity doesn’t change as he takes the basket from your hands, “It’s warm.” He notes, “Did you bake this recently?”

“Yes I baked it today, just now actually uh-” You decide to speak candidly now since the possible threat margin seems to be closing, “You look confused.”

Jungkook is practically hiding behind the man you’re addressing and it takes a large part of you not to laugh at his behavior.

“Forgive me.” He chuckles, “We aren’t exactly used to hospitality. Most villagers avoid us like the plague, it probably has to do with our General but regardless.” He bows his head, “We appreciate the gesture. I’ll make sure to pass along your gratitude to him once he returns.”

“Oh is he not here? I was hoping to thank him myself.” You try and mask the disappointment in your tone, not wishing to come across as stranger than you already did.

The man shakes his head, “No. He often takes a walk after an invasion; gotta make sure the perimeter is secure.” He smiles and you are taken aback by how white his teeth were, “My name is Seokjin, I’m the outreach expert on the fleet and unofficial chef. I promise your bread will be put to good use, it’s been months since we’ve had any decent carbs.”

His comment makes you smile and you are delighted that his demeanor is so welcoming.

“I’m sorry to heart that. Will you be in town long? I can try to set you up with a few more baskets before your departure?”

Seokjin chuckles warmly before snorting as Jungkook paws at the basket, “Easy.” He admonishes but its too late, Jungkook already has half a loaf down in his mouth, his chest rumbling with the sound of his groan.

“Oh my god hyung, it’s so good...”

Seokjin looks disgusted with him but hands him the basket anyway, nodding to the rest of the fleet, “Share. Make sure you save a loaf for Yoongi and I.”

Jungkook happily obliges but not before turning towards you and bowing, “Uh thanks for the- for the bread....”

His sentence is choppy and over before it even begins as he goes bounding off in the direction of his team.

“Pardon him, he’s been in the army since he was fourteen. We haven’t done an amazing job at socializing him but, he’s getting better. He’s still a bit antsy around women though.” Seokjin chuckles, fondness in his eyes, “Ah but to answer your question, yes. We've decided to set up here for a few weeks to train our new recruits. I would love to more of this bread if it’s not too much trouble.”

You smile, waving him off, attempting to conceal your happiness at the news he’s just delivered, “Nonsense, I’d be happy to bake some more.”

“Excellent!” He chirps, clasping his hands together, “I’m sure Yoongi would be happy to know we’ve finally manage to contact with a villager. It’s been an issue for us, stories spread like wildfire you know? And just like wildfire, they tend to do more harm than good.”

“And Yoongi is?”

Seokjin chuckles, “Ah I believe you’d know him better as...” He flutters his fingers dramatically, “ the Tiger.”

Yoongi.

So that was his name.

“Oh yes,” You amend, “I’ve certainly heard of him but, I prefer to make my own judgements rather than succumb to the gossip.”

He smirks, “That’s very noble of you Y/N. I for one,” He places a hand on his chest, throwing a wink your way, “, live for the gossip.”

Your meeting with Seokjin ends soon after that with a promise that you would return with more bread.

As much as you wanted to rush back to Rachel’s house to inform of your meeting with the ‘most dangerous fleet in the world’, you remind yourself that school is in session; a necessary but annoying inconvenience.

However, there are plenty of ways you plan on keeping busy for the remainder of the day and one of them involves visiting the river to collect more herbs for your remedies.

You obviously weren't able to sell your wares today as the marketplace was still littered with evidence of the robbery. Your parents had insisted you take the day off to restock and recuperate whilst they helped the village leaders clean up.

Reluctantly, you agreed and you are now very grateful that you had.

The river has always been one of your favorite places. It was rich, green, buzzing with life and, always a few degrees colder than your village. Surrounded by mossy trees that seem to stretch as high as the clouds, the river is encased with life. Rabbits, squirrels, tortoises, frogs and a plethora of birds all coral in the area the river resides in whilst bears, big cats, wolves and monkeys hide behind the dense forest. It’s any apothecary’s paradise as it is also the residence of any herbs capable of growing in damp areas.

Angelica, Blue Vervain, Marshmallow, Stinging Needle and more: the river is your one stop shop for so many of your essential ingredients.

Today you’re after a particular herb though and armed with another woven basket, you make your way towards the large bushels of it growing at the base of a tree trunk.

Valerian is an essential herb in your arsenal and due to its popularity, it’s something you’re consistently having to restock.

Gathering it carefully, ensuring you don’t disturb the root of the plant.

You are so enthralled with your current task that you don’t even notice that you are no longer alone.

“Is this where the tree bark grows?”

You jump nearly six feet out of your skin, whipping your head around to face your intruder.

Standing before you is the myth himself, the Tiger or as you’ve recently learned: Yoongi.

He’s still in his armor from earlier, his long tendrils pulled back away from his face into a low ponytail. Between his lips, which are curving slightly, is a piece of the bark he had taken from your cart the day prior.

He is chewing it as you instructed.

“You of all people should know not to ambush someone like that...” You breath, placing a hand on your chest, “I could have wacked you with this basket or something.”

He just smirks, “I’ve had worse.” He notes, taking the bark from between his teeth, “I’m sorry I frightened you though, I didn’t expect to see anyone here.”

“Likewise.” You retort, nodding your head at the bark, “Is it helping?”

He shrugs, “Too early to tell I suppose but, it’s tending to my oral fixation so, either way it has a purpose.”

You straighten up a bit more and smooth out your dress, “It will work, it just takes a bit of time.” You assure him before adjusting the herbs in your basket, “I came by your tent earlier to offer my thanks for what you and your men did today, your outreach coordinator Seokjin told me he’d pass along the message but-”

“You did what?”

His tone doesn’t entirely lean one way or the other and you quickly grow worried that you offended him.

“I brought a basket of bread to uh-” You swallow thickly, meeting the intensity of his gaze, “to your camp as a thank you for saving my village.”

Several emotions flicker across his face before he settles on surprise, “I see. Were they polite?”

You can’t help but smile, this day truly has been full of surprises and, Yoongi’s demeanor is only adding to that list.

“I only had the privilege of meeting Seokjin and well- I kind of met Jungkook but, he seemed a little-”

“Awkward?” Yoongi smirks

“A little.” You amend, “But both of them were very polite. They explained that they often don’t receive any hospitality on stops like this; I was very sorry to hear that.”

Yoongi’s teeth seem to catch the inside of his cheek as he nods curtly, “There’s no need for apologies. Hospitality is welcome but, never expected. I try to teach my men that we should never expect gratitude for what we do as it so often comes with a price.”

“I suppose gratitude should be offered situationally then, there was very little draw back to what you did today. Our village is privy to raiders; maybe if word gets around that you all were in town, that might prevent this from happening again.”

He purses his lips before nodding in consideration, “I see you’re point. Regardless of its necessity, gratitude is always welcome: especially when free food is involved.”

His comment makes you giggle and your laughter makes his lips itch in a way they never have.

“I wholeheartedly agree with that. I get a surprising amount of baked goods sent my way doing what I do so, I’ll have no problem dolling out the gratitude while you all are here.”

Yoongi’s brows knit in confusion, “Do you people often pay you in baked goods?”

Laughter flows freely out of your mouth then and you shake your head at his question, “Definitely not, I sell my goods for currency as does any obedient member of society,” At this Yoongi smirks again, he likes your wit, a lot, “but I do receive muffin baskets, cakes, pies and whatnot from happy customers. They’re mainly from women whose husbands have taken my ginseng remedy.”

His curiosity blooms, “And why is that?”

You feel a bit of heat rushing to your cheeks, “Ginseng enhances uh- drive, often times it can be used a stimulant to promote you know-” You’re hoping Yoongi will put the pieces together but instead his eyes remain expectant, “passion.”

The word makes Yoongi straighten up a bit and in an effort to look casual, he nods quickly and hums a little too loudly.

“Ah yes. Of course. Well, as I said- free food is free food right?” He wagers, his fingers rubbing at the bit of bark.

Its your turn to smirk now but, you quickly change the subject when you ask, “Is the leader of the clan secure? I didn’t see him when I passed through your camp.”

He clears his throat, bringing the bark back towards his mouth, “He is. I have him locked up just behind the trees so he isn’t able to influence the new recruits. He had an alarming number of unwilling participants within his group, many of them claimed to be brought there with the threat of physical harm.”

You kiss your teeth and shake your head, “I don’t understand that kind of behavior. I understand that sometimes desperate people do desperate things but, to exert power or harm over another person without a viable cause...it just makes no sense to me.”

He’s intrigued now and as he brings the bark back to his lips, his brow knit with curiosity, “Hm. So do you think there is a justification to steal but not to commit violence?”

You can’t figure out why your opinion would matter to him but, you sure as hell aren’t going to question the length of this conversation.

“I think that some people believe they have no other choice but to steal. Wealth and power aren’t possible without a poor man to stand on, to oppress- I don’t support the idea of taking what doesn’t belong to you but, I could see why people are driven to do so. People are growing tired of being the poor man. Senseless violence isn’t something I could find a justification for. What the raiders often do, is both so I guess-” You hesitate, “I’m conflicted.”

Yoongi is captivated by your explanations, not because they are particularly ground breaking but, because they are particularly human. You aren’t afraid to discuss the complexity of life nor are you afraid to admit when certain things confound you.

“That’s a fair assessment. Do you agree with today’s outcome?”

Your smile returns, as you adjust the basket on your arm again, “I did. Especially because it seemed to surprise everyone, myself included.”

His lips return to his smirk, “Why? Because I didn’t behead him?”

“Exactly.” You breathe out a laugh before continuing, “I for one was shocked to see you deal with the situation without your trusty viper...”

His face turns to one of incredulity, “Oh my- you're not serious are you? Do people genuinely think I keep a viper on me at all times? Do they have any idea how unpractical that is?”

Yoongi’s reaction sends you into a fit of giggles and the sound makes his lips itch again.

He decides he enjoys the sound very much.

“I’m sure you’ve set a few people straight after this morning,” You offer, wiping a bit of moisture from the corner of your eye, “I doubt the rumors will repopulate the same way after you leave.”

“What do you think of them?”

“The rumors?”

“They’re entertaining.” You shrug, “But I don’t like to make assumptions about people unless I’ve met them, not even scary and supposedly cruel generals like yourself.”

The ghost of a smile shows itself on Yoongi’s mouth and his eyes seem to glimmer, pleased with your answer.

“I wish more people had that mindset.”

It’s all he says before promptly dropping the subject again, nodding in the direction behind him, “I should probably head back to camp. I have a feeling that the longer I am away, the smaller my chances of getting any of that bread become.”

“You’re probably right, I have to be back before sunset anyway.” Your parents don’t like it when you’re out at the river after dark, “It was very nice meeting you Yoongi. I hope you enjoy the bread.”

His lips as he realizes something vital, “I’m sure I will. Forgive me, I don’t remember catching your name...”

At his observation, you extend your hand towards his, “Oh of course, my name is Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Without looking down, he grasps your hand gently as if he were afraid to break it, “Y/N- I’ll remember it.” He promises unnecessarily but it still sends a flutter through your heart, “Get home safe.”

When he releases your hand, you step back towards the bushel of Valerian before smiling once more,

“You too.”

As Yoongi departs from the river, he smirks to himself.

Perhaps this wouldn’t be the routine stop he had planned on.

Perhaps this would be so much more.

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closer-stars · 4 years ago

Text

Heart of Depth (1)

Member: Yeosang Genre: Action, Slice of Life, Fantasy, Fluff Word Count: 8.8k (nice) Requested: I g u ess so,,, Content: Yeosang’s rich but he’s tired but wait there’s More. Genshin Impact AU/Inspired-- I say inspired bec this is more modern than where Genshin is currently set. Food mention. Allusions to death. (there will be fighting in future parts) Note: Hi so... uh,,, this is actually a Months old request that happened at the height of some personal,,, things,,,, so I may have forgotten One aspect of the request and got carried away. i am so Sorry. There’s gonna be fluff eventually. If you would like to be tagged for this, please do tell me~ Thank you also to my beta readers! Also Yes i changed the title to something else, I think this just Fits better. Network: @ateezlovenet Tag List: @barsformars @miniyeo @jeongyunhoed @yeekies @yeotlny @frankenstein852 @shinyddeonghwa @prodbyteez @yeochikin @yeocult

How long has it been since he has mingled with humans? He’s not sure. He’s not quite sure either of how old he is. Sapphire eyes gaze at the scenery from where he stands. Over north, he remembers a battle that has left thousands scarred in years to come, honored and remembered rightfully in generations to come. To the east, he remembers the betrayal of his dear friend for power, how difficult it was to wash away the blood from his hands. It was more difficult to wash away the nightmares. In the west, he can still picture a palace being built, only to be ruined once more by opposing forces who saw potential in his land, how he raised so much chaos to bring order back. Southwards, he remembers his lover, their lively eyes dimming with a promise of seeing them soon. It’s been too long since that promise and not once has he seen them. The memory causes him to fiddle with the pendant hidden beneath his shirt. He tries not to play that memory in his head once more as it would only causehim more pain than necessary.

He’s seen the world decay and grow. He sees the mountain of which he created eons back to tame a beast that once ravaged the lands. Fortunately, the beast is no more, the area has become a place for people to relax and unwind from the stressors of present day life. He wonders how humans have come this far, little by little gaining independence from a god that led them to safety. The need for a god is ending soon as it is only a matter of time before he passes on the powers to someone else. All his friends have retreated away from their responsibilities, handing the job to those who can continue it for them. He’s the only one from the original seven that is left.

He wonders: do these people still need a god?

This was a question better left for another day, for today is a full day of routined duties.

He returns to his living space, spacious but empty. What else can an immortal put into their home without giving away their age? Even if humans can barely understand the concept of immortality, priceless antiques can make him a target of many, so he tries to live simply. He of all people should know that.

Alas, the key word here is: tries.

The furniture around his abode are not of cheap quality, but one of longevity, not that his wallet hurts at the price. His clothes are not from everyday brands either, while he does not look down those whose options are limited by currency, his preferences for clothes can make one mistake him to be a regular of luxury brand releases. His palate though was another thing entirely. He misses the food of the past, while there are some areas that have kept the practice to produce the meals he misses alive, the process to acquire them is tedious.

What he wants, he can get with ease. All except someone. The empty feeling in his living space has not changed since his lover’s passing. Since then, he’s never taken an interest in anyone else, holding onto their promise of seeing each other soon. Whenever that will be. He’s gotten used to living on his own but he does not like it. Watching humans below him move at such a pace exhausts him, they live longer than the humans he remembers, but still move as if their lives are shorter.

Ironic really.

The sky is a beautiful purple once he’s near his home and rather than cooking something, he opts for take-out. Somewhere along the way of his existence, he eventually has settled for what humans now eat and as a result, he has a small soft spot for fried chicken. He misses seeing the stars though, how they remind him of them and the way they’ve created them to be what they are now.

Each one carries someone’s destiny. Maybe he should’ve asked them where his star is.

He buys himself a hearty serving of fried chicken with the various dips to eat for the night. He waits outside of the franchise, watching people come and go, hurrying to bury themselves in the comfort of their own homes. With the years of life on him, he finds no reason to hurry. It doesn’t take too long for the staff to hand his chicken to him, bidding him goodbye as they cater to the next customer. At least he didn’t forget his wallet today.

Yeosang has been a creature of habit, always wanting to do certain things in a certain order every day. But something about today makes him want to break the sense of familiarity, no harm in it he assumes. He’s been the only god in this region thus far, save for a few other creatures that roam the roads to protect the humans from unexplainable happenings. He spots the new coffee shop down the corner, it’s clear that they’re fairly new. He didn’t have anything waiting at home, he could spare them a visit to support their budding endeavors.

He enters the empty shop, and already he’s greeted by a light wind chime tinkling as he closes the door, along with a few pastries on display. There were a few flowers sprinkled about in the premises as well.

“Welcome!”

A bright voice catches his attention and it takes him a few moments to tear his gaze from the curious confectionery treats to shift his attention to the person behind the counter. Something in his chest drops at the sight of you. There’s something about you that stirs a feeling in him and he’s stunned. It’s been awhile since he’s seen eyes that remind him of wine: brewed carefully, poised and intense.

His gaze on you is unmoving, and it causes you to shift on your feet. You clear your throat to have him snap out of his daze. “Sir? Would you like to order something?” You’re worried your first customer is a creep and you’d have to install more security measures in your shop. A small part of you hopes it’s just the first day exhaustion getting the better of you because there’s no logical explanation as to why this man’s eyes seem to glow. He doesn’t answer again and you speak up a little louder this time.

“Sir? Would you like to order?”

Your question brings him back to reality and he blinks for a few moments. He’s not on a hill. He’s in a coffee shop, being eyed with confusion by you. He clears his throat and straightens his back. “Apologies for the lapse in attention, what do you recommend?” He asks carefully, eyeing the sweets and the menu that displays various coffees and tea. Truthfully, he would’ve gone for his black tea but what’s the point when he wants to know more of what your shop creates and gives?

You glance at your menu then at him. “Are you into sweets? If you are, I recommend the iced dark mocha and the caramel macaron. If not, then the Moroccan mint tea latte and the vanilla macaron.” Truthfully, you pegged him as someone who didn’t have a sweet tooth but looks have always been deceiving haven’t they? You watch the man take your options into deep thought as you stand there, waiting for his decision. Should you have described your products? Do they not sound good? Is it too limiting? “I can also rec--”

“I’ll take the mint tea latte and the vanilla macaron.” He says, fishing out his wallet for the second time. Without another word, you ring his order and ask for him to wait for a few moments for you to prepare his order. He takes a seat nearby as he observes the interiors of the new shop. It’s simple, quaint, comfortable, things that remind one of home after a long day.

You approach his table with the prepared latte and macaron in a small bag for him to carry on the way home. “Here are your orders, Sir.” Your voice brings him out of his musings. The smell of mint laced with the subtle sweetness of vanilla greets him as he returns to reality.

“Please just call me Yeosang.” He tells you as he stands up, ready to return home. His eyes still bear a heavy weight as he looks at you intently. The request catches you off guard, but you nod regardless. You watch him leave the premises, leaving you alone with the wind chimes tinkling in his wake. Your eyes follow his figure until he’s out of your sight, walking to wherever you assume he’d live. A strange man indeed but at least you had a customer for today. It’s a slow start but it is a start. It would take a while before you can close for the day but no matter, you can clean up whatever must be cleaned until the next customer comes in.

On the other hand, Yeosang has taken a few sips of the latte, somehow attracted to the subtle creamy texture with the comforting sharpness mint carries. He never had a liking for over sweetened tea with cream, the recent rise of milk tea has left him confused with the palate of humans but this tea fits his taste. He wonders if he can recreate this in the coming days, for now, he wants to be in his home eating his chicken.

His thoughts return to you, wondering who you are really. Someone that reminds him of years past, before the world is what it is now. For now, he focuses on what’s in front of him: fried chicken, tea latte, and a macaron. Perhaps he’ll drop by your shop again in the days to come.

---------

Maybe it’s a good thing that you don’t have many customers today because your best friend has decided to enter the establishment. “What’s my favorite human doing?” He asks in the most obnoxious way. The volume startles you out of your daydreams and it’s a good thing you had quick reflexes, otherwise you would’ve dropped your glasses.

“Have you ever heard of an indoor voice, Wooyoung?” You chide, with a wiggle of your finger you conjure a small wisp of icy air against the exposed skin of his ankle. This causes him to yelp in fear, thinking it was an insect. Fortunately, it was just your antics.

He complains after hearing your snickering. “You know I don’t like insects!” He whines as he sauntered over to the counter. He thought you would’ve kept the pearl back home but he guesses the first day jitters made you want the reassurance of the pearl.

You lean against your elbows as he eyes your menu with utmost curiosity. “Can I help you?” His complaints don’t faze you, if anything it makes you want to annoy him more.

“Can’t I worry over my best friend? It is their first day of their new job!” It’s so hard to stay angry at a guy who just knows he’s charming and well intentioned. Also, you’ve known this guy since you were children.

So you sigh, conceding to his wishes, “It’s a slow day, Wooyoung. I’m actually surprised I got this shop to become a reality. I think you’re my third customer-- speaking of which, what would you like to order?”

“Do I get a discount?”

“Do I think you should get a cup full of ice poured down your shirt?”

He pouts at your retort. “Are you at least going to let me buy the strawberry cake?”

“Do you want coffee with that?” You ask as you start ringing up his order.

“Iced americano please?” There was no need to add syrup into his order if he uses that tone again. Maybe that’s the perk of having your best friend taste test all your creations, he just knows what to order and it’s clear that he loves your strawberry cake.

He decides to stay in your shop until closing. There’s really no reason for him to head home when the two of you are sharing an apartment to ease the burden on your respective wallets. Living on your own is expensive. The remaining hours of the shop go by with Wooyoung telling you about his day and his shift at a dance studio. It’s still a little hard to function after the new sickness has ended but life has to keep moving. You fill him in on the new face you saw today, an interesting man, well kept with what looked like high quality clothes, yet the stark contrast of the fried chicken he held was a nice twist you admit. You don’t mention the glowing eyes otherwise Wooyoung would chalk it up to you and your affinity for anything creepy late at night.

“You just met this guy and you’re already gushing about him. This is why I told you to download that dating app already.”

“Shut up, Wooyoung, I’m not into him like that. Even if they do an event to boost their sales, I’m not downloading an app just for the sake of dating!” You return with a whine. Eyes shift from the annoying man lounging on the stool across you, to the clock hanging on the wall. Time to clean up and close for the day. “Move your butt, Wooyoung. I have to clean up the place before I close for the day.” Bless his soul though, for he helps you clean up and take out the trash.

The distance from home isn’t too far, but it isn’t too near either. A few stops away using the train and it doesn’t hurt the wallet for the most part.

Really this spot is a dream come true for you.

----------

‘Leave! Take my people with you!’

‘Don’t be foolish! You can’t fight them alone!’

A harsh shove puts him out of harm’s way. The last thing he sees is the confident smile shining against the heavy downpour.

He awakens with a jolt. Eyes glowing brightly only to dim to brown orbs as he tries to regain his bearings, above him is a cream colored ceiling, not the stormy skies that pelt against his window. It’s been thousands of years but the burden still presents itself on his shoulders. Yeosang sits up, brushing his hair up and out of his vision. On his bedside stands an amulet, sewn into it were the visuals of a rare white flower. Never had he found someone to give this too, for the sake of safekeeping. Choi San was considered but he thought better, his lifestyle would have left the amulet in a concerning state. For now, it will stay on his bedside.

Another day of business meetings.

Another day of wanting something.

See, while Yeosang found comfort in the luxury of his home and in routine, it still felt stifling. Being a god isn’t as glamorous as modern pop culture makes it out to be. He wonders who gave these humans the idea that being immortal, being powerful would be something good. Perhaps the Order’s influence was a lot stronger than what the Archons had assumed. Though he could ask for help in changing such perception, it is out of his power and field to be able to do such. That is a thought for another day, for today, he has to deal with finding a suitable middle ground of a contract with clients from another country.

Now, he could just change his top into something presentable and leave his bottoms as just his pajamas as it is through video call but he prefers to be presentable from head to toe. He’s seen enough slip ups from his peers to consider just changing top up.

Maybe if the weather eases up later in the day, he could give your shop a visit.

--------

You nearly jump out of your bed when Wooyoung bursts in, saying that it’s time to start the day. Who gave Wooyoung the right to make his yelling your alarm clock? You make a mental note to annoy him later on. First thing on the to-do list is to get out of bed which admittedly takes longer than expected.

Once you leave your room, you’re greeted by the smell of something cooking. In this friendship, Wooyoung’s in charge of cooking, while you were in charge of baking. Heavens forbid that the two of you don’t eat well. He was also in charge of you staying physically active thanks to his antics. While you had the Cryo vision, he had Electro. Any ‘static’ that you feel from him was admittedly him just wanting to annoy you.

“How are you so awake this early?” It’s 7AM. You open your shop at 10AM. He on the other hand, his work starts at 2PM today and ends at midnight. If anything, you should be the early bird, while he is the night owl.

“Because between the two of us, i’m easier to wake up. Now go eat before it gets cold!” He chides you gently as he continues to wash up the pans. You glance at the meal set on the table, he made all of these? All these side dishes and meat?

“What time did you wake up?”

“5:30?”

“Jung Wooyoung, what the-- I could’ve just grabbed something from the lady down the street.” You could also make yourself a cup of coffee in your own shop, it’s your own money anyways.

“Relax! I can catch up on sleep before my work starts and mind you, it’s raining so it’s better to get to your shop and be able to dry up before any customer enters. Don’t forget, I packed you some lunch because we all know you’d forget to grab food on the way”

At the mention of rain, you notice the downpour outside. That probably explains the humidity lately. Time for a change of plans on what to wear today, at least your boots could take on the rain and still make you look good. Your bottom lip juts out as you watch the rain but you decide to change your attention to the food in front of you. Heavens forbid that you don’t eat what Wooyoung makes for you, otherwise you would go back to take out and instant food for a good week. Once finished, you’re about to wash the dishes when Wooyoung shoos you off. “Go, you know how the station can be with this weather.” You don’t force it, so you leave your plate by the sink and go and get ready.

--------

You arrive outside your shop, unlocking the door while balancing the umbrella on your shoulder. Once you were inside, you let out a sigh of relief. The dry air inside provides you comfort from the humidity outside. The rain isn’t as hard as it was in the morning but it was still a challenge to walk through people who were damp from the downpour. With the current weather, you didn’t need to water your plants too much so that’s one thing off the list.

You get started on cleaning and setting everything up for the day. Now you weren’t sure if you’d get more customers today but it was better to be safe than sorry. Not long after you cleaned up the place, someone enters the shop. “Hello and welcome!” You greet them warmly from behind the counter. The first thing you notice is his sharp feline features, softened only by his curiosity for the pastries on display. You watch him carefully, wondering if he’ll stay and order something or leave shortly. After all, it is a little too early for sweets, though if that was what he prefers then you shall provide. The mysterious man leans a little closer to the display rack, eyeing the various treats you’re selling. You note the odd streaks of white on his slicked hair, surely this place has their own share of memorable fashion. Maybe in the future you could do something similar to your own hair, you’ve been wanting some sort of a change after all.

“How much for the smallest cake?”

There were various voices that you expected to come out of his mouth, his gentle manner of speaking was not one of them. You look at the cake he’s pointing at. Guess he has an eye for the finer things. “Twelve thousand won, sir..” You return a little flustered by his mannerism.

“Can I ask what’s in it?”

You stand up a little straighter, hoping to make your first sale for the day. “Dark chocolate and milk. There’s dark chocolate mousse in between the layers as well.” To be honest, this is your favorite creation, not too bitter, not too sweet, still perfectly smooth in your mouth. Well, it wasn’t easy to get all the ingredients for it either. He straightens up and looks at his watch. As he looks at the time, you take note of what he’s wearing: are there really people that have expensive taste that live in this side of the city? His bomber jacket alone looks more expensive that your entire outfit. There’s something about how he carries himself that tells you to stay on his good side, no matter how pleasant he presents himself to you.

“I’ll come back later today to buy it.” He states and a small part of you deflates. You don’t want to hope too much on his words, people often do choose niceties rather than honesty. His tone leaves no room for you to guess if it was politeness or a genuine promise so you just nod.

“We’re open until 10 PM, Sir.” You inform him. A part of you doesn’t believe his words but for the sake of making money, you let him know.

“I promise, I’ll come back later.” He eyes your display again, as if trying not to forget your products then at your face. There’s something in his eyes that you can’t recognize but you let it be. Being a regular folk makes everyone look the same but once you’re out here selling things, you end up noticing all the small details. Maybe it’s just in the first few days.

His effort to reassure you makes you chuckle softly. Maybe he does mean it, with that you nod. “I’ll take your word for it, Sir. Have a nice day.” You can only assume that he flashes a smile from how his eyes curve as he bids you goodbye. When he turns his back to you is when you see a teal orb hanging on his waist. Another Vision holder. Maybe you should take the chance to explore the area one of these days. It’s been a while since you met other Vision holders besides Wooyoung and some of his fellow dancers.

It’s the silence that follows once he leaves that makes you wish you had some sort of pet or companion in this shop. But that will be a thought for another day, for now, you busy yourself with your own phone. You couldn’t really message Wooyoung at this hour anymore, you know he’s back in bed catching up on sleep before his shift. Hours pass and you end up busying yourself with a book you found online. It becomes a deep dive at that point, the only time you had to put your phone down is when a customer comes in for a drink and even then making their orders doesn’t take too long.

Your reading takes you to worlds past; how people preserved their memories beyond just the word of mouth and writings. The art that accompanied their memories was a reason as to why certain practices are still being done until present. Through faded colors, the preservations to keep them still visible and intact have brought you to beyond just the materials and methods of the past. It has brought you to the vivid awareness of a working society that had dwindled down then revived to become the society you now live in.

By the time you snap yourself back to reality, it’s already 3PM. You forgot to eat your lunch. You look outside and the streets weren’t that cramped yet. It won’t be until two hours later when rush hour begins. Wooyoung was right once more, you decided to just eat towards the back. Making sure that people still know that there’s someone inside the shop while still having the comfort of privacy to eat.

The windchimes ring again, making you cover your food immediately and rush over to the counter. “Hello and welcome!” You say, out of habit.

“Hello again!” The same guy from earlier has returned. This time with Yeosang. It takes a moment for you to get over your surprise, not expecting the two of them to know each other. Really, what were the odds?

Yeosang too looks at you with wide eyes, piercing and unmoving, but it’s the soft curve of his lips that dampens the intensity of his gaze. Only you were not aware of the turmoil inside the other’s body. San was all too aware of it but he says nothing.

“Hello! Have you decided what to buy?” You ask, tone carrying careful gentleness as you try to keep your gaze on the man with the white streak.

“Yup! The dark chocolate cake from earlier and two vanilla tea lattes please!” You didn’t really expect this sharp eyed man to carry such a bright tone in his voice.

You take the chance to glance over at Yeosang. He clearly looked a little embarrassed to be trapped in his peer’s hold. A small smile warms your features, a little amused to see someone who gave you the impression of being so composed turn a little red. “Sure thing, that’s 16,000 won.” You state, ringing up their orders. “To go or dine in?”

“Would dine in be fine?” Yeosang’s friend asks.

“Perfectly fine.”

“Then dine in please.”

You direct them to sit anywhere as they wait for their orders. The two leave you to it, and once you are out of earshot Yeosang breathes out in relief. “Choi San, you are blessed that I can’t throw you out to sea right now.” He hisses, though without any malice.

“I can see why you’re affected though, heh.” San snickers, his eyes flickering towards your general direction. He’s unfazed by Yeosang’s eyes glowing into an intense blue. It’s an empty threat, they’ve been through worse and a human reminding them of a dear presence won’t hurt him. “They do have similar energies, and an affinity for plants.” San notes, gesturing to the presence of flowers in your shop. “Especially that one in particular.” He adds. Should he feel alarmed?

You quickly serve their orders, leaving them alone as you try to finish your meal quickly before the smell disturbs them. It’s not too long until you finish your meal, a major factor being that you weren’t reading as you ate.

You stay behind the counter for the rest of their stay, making sure to stay out of their earshot,as you continue your reading to pass the time as it is only them who have decided to stay in your shop.

“So you’re saying, the human behind the counter, reminds you of them?”

Yeosang sighs at the inquiry, he should’ve expected the disbelief. It’s been thousands of years since his lover had made their return to this world since their passing. The edge of the cup grazes the bottom of Yeosang’s lips as he thinks. “Yes, I don’t quite understand why or how, but if my nightmares have returned then that must be something.” Truly, when it comes to his dear lover, his logic tends to be thrown out the window. Not entirely, at least. At the mention of night terrors, his companion raises an eyebrow in surprise. “San, take my word at least at the mere fact that my night terrors have returned.”

San’s features fall slightly at Yeosang’s unwillingness to discuss his nightmares. It’s a reasonable move, they can never tell when the walls listen. “Can we at least talk about this at your place? I remember you clearly choosing that building for their refusal to be affiliated with any organization.”

“Very well. Once we have finished our meal here, we can return.”

It’s not until you hear his friend thank you for the food and coffee for the second time that you realize you’ve been in too deep into the reading material. The sight of you trying to regain your surroundings as you blink away the words swimming about in your vision makes Yeosang’s friend chuckle lightly. Yeosang on the other hand eyes you closely.

“San, can you wait for me outside? I won’t take too long.”

So that’s his name. You glance at the male who shoots you a bright smile as he leaves the premises, he eventually stays near the door. Once he’s out of ear shot, Yeosang clears his throat to get your attention again.

“Are you alright? You seem rather dazed. '' Yeosang asks. There’s something in his tone that you couldn’t quite tell if it was concern or not.

Dazed might be an understatement. “Yes I’m fine, I just got too into what I was reading..” You explain a little shyly as you try to regain your bearings. You can still see some words in your vision, it takes a few more blinking for them to melt from your sight.

He smiles a little at your reaction. “If it’s not too much to ask, what were you reading about? Surely, it must have been an interesting topic?”

You glance at your phone, unsure of how to describe what you had been reading. “It was uh, art history.” This piques his interest, something in his eyes sparkles and it takes a bit of your self control to not chuckle at the obvious enthusiasm.

“Is that so? Perhaps I can take some of your time in the future so that we can talk about art?”

Was he asking you out? You stare at him in disbelief. The question is still trying to sink in.

If you weren’t who he thinks you are, a friend would be good enough for him.

“Of course, if you aren’t interested I won’t take any offense in it.” He follows up upon your silence. He worries if he was a little too forward with such a question.

“No!” You speak up, surprised by the force in your own voice. “I mean, no… as in, no it’s not that I’m not interested, it’s just, I don’t know you besides your name.”

You have every right to be wary, he thinks. The current era has birthed plenty of amorality. Even if one seemed harmless, it might be too late when the realization of its true power sets in. His hand comes up to his chin in thought. He genuinely wants your trust, besides his earnest wish of you being his past lover, your interest in something he likes could lead to the two of you being friends. “Would it be alright if I become a regular in your shop though?”

The question takes you by surprise because in usual circumstances, the customer becoming a regular is a gradual unspoken promise. Maybe it was for your own safety too as his initial question could be understood with some malice. Something in you tells you that you’re safe with him. At that thought, you smile warmly. “I wouldn’t mind. It will take a while before I memorize your order though.” Also, you needed to make money.

“Good things take time.”

His words make you laugh lightly. “You should get going, your friend has been waiting for you for quite some time now.” You remind him gently as you tip your head at San’s general direction. He’s already pouting, clearly impatient.

Yeosang’s cheeks glow in embarrassment for letting his friend wait. “Very well, I’ll see you tomorrow then…?” He trails off, unsure of how to address you. You catch on to the gap and offer him a nickname.

Yeosang repeats after you thoughtfully, and his eyes warm up when he fixes his gaze to you. “I shall get going then.”

You watch him leave the shop, greeted by a relieved San by the doorway. The two of them bid you goodbye, and you watch them walk off until you couldn’t see them anymore.

What an odd day, you thought to yourself. At least you had something to look forward to each day now.

---------

“What do you think?” San asks by the door of his apartment.

“It may or may not be them.” Yeosang admits. They were always a sensitive topic for him. “Regardless, should it not be them, a human friend might do me some good in this worn world.”

His wording reminds San of his other plan and it makes his heart drop slightly. “You’re really considering it?”

A heavy sigh slips from Yeosang’s lips but he nods. “I’m far too old, San. Someone needs to take over soon as much as I would like it to be you, you have your own responsibilities in this world that only you can fulfill.”

The conversation takes a heavy turn that San wasn’t ready for that he had it turn back to you. “Did you ever get their name? What did you talk about?”

Yeosang updates the male in your lengthy conversation. San notices the small smile on his friend’s features. “...By tomorrow, I’ll be back in their shop, roughly the same time.”

“Yeosang, the both of us know that it isn’t roughly the same time, you’ll be there on the dot. What’s going to happen if you get tired of the same drink huh?”

“I will try their other products.”

“You’re going to spend so much money over them, Yeosang.”

“If it means building a genuine connection then it’s a small price to pay.”

--------

It becomes a thing that you wait for everyday now; him coming by your coffee shop at this exact time everyday. Every 5PM you start to await his arrival. At this point, you already know his order by heart: vanilla tea latte with two pieces of dark chocolate macarons. Sometimes, if the two of you were lucky, he stays with you beyond closing time and by then, you could offer to taste test some of your possible new products.

Today is a lucky day for the two of you. It’s nearing closing time and you’ve told some of your customers that you would be closing up soon, to give them enough time to wrap up and go. Enough time as well for you to clean up everything and if time permits, for Yeosang to taste test some of your creations. You walk up to Yeosang’s table. “Excuse me, Sir? We’re closing in an hour.” You state as professionally friendly as you can-- if that was even possible.

The male looks up from his book to be greeted by your features and your weak attempt to keep yourself from smiling. He slips the bookmark in between his reading, and from your view point, it looked like a reading on a certain era of history. You don’t get enough time to look at it better as he closes the book gently. “Shall I leave the premises, dear?” He entertains you for a moment, flashing a soft smile once you chuckle softly at his efforts.

“You can, but that would also mean you won’t be able to taste something I’ve been trying out lately.” Something in his eyes flashes with curiosity and excitement. It honestly reminds you of a cat that’s staring at their favorite toy.

“Then I shall stay and keep you company.” He returns. By now, the rest of the customers have left. You change the sign to only accepting take out orders for the last hour. “Do you need my assistance?” He offers, looking around the usually spotless place. There were some used plates along with a few mugs that should be washed on some tables, along with the trash. He wonders how you manage to do all of this by yourself. When he approaches the counter, he sees you already cleaning the coffee machines first. He calls your nickname again, and this time you manage to shift your attention to the male standing by the counter.

“Yes?”

“Would you like some assistance?” He reiterates, waiting for your response.

You look around the place and you spot the used plates and mugs. “Can you get those for me,please? Just put them by the sink. I’ll wash them.” As soon as he nods and gets to work, you busy yourself again with the coffee machines, making sure everything was spotless before getting yourself to wash everything. It takes a few trips from the man himself to get everything stacked neatly near the sink.

“Anything else, dear?”

At this point, you’ve gotten used to Yeosang calling you dear. There was a certain sweetness to how he calls your nickname as well, reminding you of hot tea sweetened slightly by honey. “Just keep me company, and tell me about your day.” You return, pulling him a seat as you start to wash everything.

He accepts your offer, sitting down across you as he tells you about his day. For him, it was not anything extraordinary: meetings within the morning, visitations within the afternoon, up until the time of him being able to spend the last few hours of the day here with you. But you didn’t let him off that easy, you wanted to know more about this man who decided to befriend you. He entertains your questions with ease.

“So you’re telling me, you’re part of a board of directors of a museum?” You’ve always wanted to work in one but life had other plans for you. You were thankful your coffee shop was picking up with the people that you were slowly having more than enough money to keep you and Wooyoung above water. Maybe when you manage to make more money, you could buy some simple art works to hang around your shop.

“That is correct. Are you interested in them?” He asks, head tilting to the side as he watches you dry all the plates and mugs before keeping them. While you busy yourself with keeping everything in order, he picks up his book. His fingers fly across the pages, looking for something.

“I am.” You turn on your heels, drying your hands before pulling a small cake out of the refrigerator. “Always loved going to museums when I had the time. Anything related to art and its history, I loved it.”

He sees the small container, wondering if this is the cake you wanted him to try. “Is this the one you want me to try?” His inquiry is affirmed by your nod.

“I tried a little something with this one, lavender and blueberry cake. It’s not really something you hear or see on the usual…” You had to admit it was a risk, too much lavender and it risks being potpourri. For you, the amount you put into creating this was just right, but you had to get a third opinion as well. You weren’t selling food for your own taste after all. You ready a glass of water as well, should Yeosang need to wash out any undesired taste. Yeosang’s eyes don’t seem to have any apprehension to your cake. True, it looks a little plain but he does understand the need to not waste on design when the material itself still isn’t of the desired outcome. He takes a small bite out of your cake, just as curious as you are, and if anything he trusts your skills that it wouldn’t be a poor result.

All of a sudden, his eyes light up and he raises a thumbs up to your cake. “This is actually lovely. Lavender’s subtle, the blueberry adds the sweetness and the cake isn’t too dense and moist. It’s lovely. Can I bring an additional slice home?” There’s a bit of icing that’s left on the corner of his mouth.

“Y-yeosang, you got a little bit of icing on your mouth..” You say, too focused on the pale purple cream. You watch him flounder about trying to rid of it with his finger, only to fail. At his failed attempts, you laugh softly. “Let me do it for you.” You grab a piece of tissue, and when you shift your attention to him, he’s finally wiped some of the cream off. It’s a bit endearing to see a man so well poised look rather lost and a little frustrated over something as small as icing. “Here.” You tip his chin up for him to stay put as you wipe it off successfully.

Yeosang feels his heart nearly jump out of his throat at the proximity, especially at your gaze. It’s only when you let go of his chin that he feels himself breathing again. From then on, he ate carefully and slowly. It’s not that he didn’t want that type of closeness.

While he finishes what’s left of the cake, you pack up the rest of the cake you had offered into a small box. “Keep the rest of it.” You state and Yeosang suddenly perks up in surprise at such offer. “I can recreate the cake anyways, I had Wooyoung taste the first half, so we still have some back home.” You explain.

Who was he to say no? So, he flashes you a smile, one filled with utmost thanks and gratitude. “Thank you, I’ll try to make sure that San gets a taste of this as well.” He returns.

He asks you where you live, not for personal wants but out of concern for your safety. It’s late into the night by the time the two of you left the shop and to walk on your own was surely a dangerous thing to do. From how you’ve spent your time with him, you don’t see any malice in his questions. You reassure him that you don’t go home on your own, rather you wait for Wooyoung outside the dance studio. “Would it be alright if I accompanied you to where this Wooyoung is?”

The walk to the studio has you telling him who Wooyoung is. A best friend who was practically like a brother to you since you could remember. You weren’t quite ready to tell him just yet as to how the two of you became so close. That was left for a better time. You do tell him that both of you are Vision carriers, just like he is, only Wooyoung had the electro vision, while you a cryo vision. “I honestly thought he would get the pyro vision knowing how much he loves to dance but I guess life had other plans for him.” You admit with a bashful laugh. You mention his vision in passing, not out of rudeness but out of curiosity. A hydro vision, you can imagine just how driven and eccentric this man could be.

He doesn’t correct your assumption on him. He did carry an orb like object on him, just dangling around his waist was a deep blue orb, almost as if it carries the water from the deepest parts of the ocean. He wonders how you got your vision, cryo carriers always had a story to tell that are usually not for the faint of heart. Yet, he understands that there are boundaries one must not cross.

He climbs up the stairs with you, until he’s assured that you will be safe for the time being. “Stay safe on the way home.” He says, readying himself to leave once the studio’s staff have recognized you.

“How will I know if you’re safe as well?” You ask, pouting a little at the man you’ve come to appreciate. That was a good question, he paused for a moment, thinking of how he would be able to inform you of his safety. Your eyes brighten at an idea. “I can give you my number?” You offer.

It was a good thing the offer came from you because should it come from him and the altercations that carries would be too much to bear. He hands you his phone, somehow you weren’t surprised with the model. If he looked like he can buy the entire building your coffee shop stands on, the latest phone model would be nothing. Once you’re done putting in your number, he calls the number and true enough your phone rings. “Rest assured, I’ll be home safely.” He repeats. His gut wants to press a light kiss on your forehead but not now-- not in front of all these people, not when the two of you are still warming up. With that in thought, he decides to pat your head lightly as his goodbye.

“Who is that?” The man asks after handling the identification process for the students. Your eyes flit to the dancers waiting by the door, they’re probably waiting for the last class of the day.

“Hm?” You ask a little confused by the question until it dawned on you that Yunho, a friend of Wooyoung, was referring to the stranger who accompanied you. “Oh! Yeosang…” You trail off, unsure of how to define what the two of you had just yet. “I guess, he’s my friend.” You say after a moment. That sounds right, yeah the two of you have grown closer over the past few weeks. It seems to be correct to call him a friend at least.

“A friend huh?” He repeats with a waggle of his eyebrows, just to tease you.

You roll your eyes, playfully threatening to punch his arm. “Yes he is! Don’t get funny ideas, Yunho or else I’m not bringing cookies anymore.” You say much to his horror. The sight of his features dropping into a pout makes you coo.

As you wait for Wooyoung’s class to end, you and Yunho catch up on what has happened. The studio seemed to carry more vision carriers than you expected. It made sense though, a dance studio harbors people with various reasons that had kept them pushing in this form of art. Yunho was one of them, a pyro vision carrier. One way or another, a vision carrier manages to know a fighting style or handle a weapon. For Yunho, it was a longsword. Truthfully, you never have seen him handle it but you know for sure he’d be graceful with it.

You tell Yunho of how you met Yeosang, and admittedly he was an interesting guy with eyes that were so strong when caught in a situation he didn’t expect. Yunho then trades a story of how the studio was going to stay open a little later than usual-- it seemed that a big name had rented the studio after their dance class. It’s a good thing that he was a bit of a nocturnal so he’s going to stay while the studio’s being used.

“How are you going to stay awake on your own?” You ask, aghast by the idea of staying up that late.

“No worries. We have coffee in the office so I can make myself a cup. Also Wooyoung gave us some of your white chocolate cookies that were scratch.” He admits with a toothy grin. You let him take the scratch, he pays for your goods whenever he has his cravings anyways.

“Just make sure that if you want a better version, you’ll pay.” You tease.

The conversation is cut short when the door opens and the students step out, clearly exhausted but happy with the class. Wooyoung is the last to exit, the other staff rushing in to quickly clean the room before the next class uses it. He’s just as sweaty and tired but the way his face lights up tells you otherwise. You thrust your hands out putting space between the two of you. “If you think of hugging me while you’re drenched in sweat, I will not share the leftovers from today.” You threaten and he whines in rebuttal.

“Is it the strawberry cake?”

“No..?”

“Okay, then come here.” He quickly returns beckoning you to come over to his arms. You quickly scoot away behind Yunho.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry..” You whine, pouting. Wooyoung looks at you in mild alarm at your statement.

“Did you forget to eat?!”

“I don’t like eating dinner without you, dumbass.” You admit as you follow him into the office, bidding Yunho a goodbye.

The words make Wooyoung coo this time, squishing your cheeks in his hands. “Just let me wash up real quick then we can eat here.”

You sit by the couch as you wait for him to return. As you get comfortable, albeit sleepy, your phone vibrates with a message from an unknown message.

[ ??? to You ] I’m back home safe now. :) -Yeosang

It’s Yeosang. The corners of your lips quirk upwards at the realization, while Wooyoung hasn’t returned you quickly type up a reply.

[ You to Yeosang ] That’s great! I hope you get a good night’s sleep ^^

You read his message once more and you feel a little bit of relief knowing that he’s safe.

Wooyoung comes out looking a little better than earlier. The towel draped over his shoulders. “Let’s eat dumdum.” He says, dragging his chair over to where you are with his meal.

The two of you share the happenings over the day. Wooyoung being surprised that Yeosang has walked you to the studio especially at this time. “Maybe I should meet him sometime.” He says. It’s not that he’s jealous, he’s been protective of you since day one. Anyone can take an interest to take advantage of anyone nowadays, he felt relief knowing that you had decided to wait for him instead of walking straight home with him.

“Yeosang-- ah what, Wooyoung! Wooyoung, you don’t have to do that..” You say, clearly confused as to why you had Yeosang’s name instead of Wooyoung’s in your head.

Wooyoung stares at you dumbfounded by the slip up. “Kid, just say if you’re heads over heels for him. Whatever, I’m keeping an eye on that guy.” You can’t blame his protective nature, until now no one really knows how the Order knew of your family’s whereabouts. Whatever their method was, it had to come from someone who was in close contact with your parents thus resulting in you being the only one still alive. You also know that Wooyoung’s incredibly stubborn so you give in. It was inevitable for anyone who knew you to know Wooyoung and vice versa, the two of you are a package deal. “So he comes to your shop every day? Same time?” He asks. You can already see the gears in his head moving.

“Wooyoung, if you scare him off, I swear--” You grumble through your food. It’s not that you didn’t like his protective manners, for once you felt a little happy to have a friend who wasn’t from his circle; someone you’ve met on your own. “Listen, I didn’t even tell Yeosang my real name yet for my safety too.”

That was something he didn’t expect, though a smart move, it was something he understood. Your words make him stop in thought. He still wants to meet him. “Fine but I still want to meet him because he’s someone who’s growing on you.”

You wonder how he didn’t get the geo vision, but you concede to his wishes. “He’s in the shop every 5PM onwards, always with a book.”

“You’re telling me this guy stays with you.. In the shop.. Until you close?”

His question makes you shoot him a look. “Did everything I tell you just exit out the other ear?”

“No, they’re all up in here. I just wanted to get the facts straight….” he trails off, pushing the chair back to where his workspace is to look at his schedule. “Alright, I don’t need to come in tomorrow,” Oh, dear. “Which means, I can meet this friend of yours to make sure he isn’t anyone shady.”

At his plan, you lean back on the couch. There really is no point in changing his mind. “Fine, let’s finish up and head home. The two of us need a shower.”

On the way home, you tell him as well that you were going to start selling the lavender cake by next month. “I still got half of the tester cake saved for you.”

He has a feeling you gave half of it to Yeosang but he spares you from his teasing. Wooyoung flashes an excited smile as the two of you walk out of the station. “Great, while I wait for you to finish showering, I’ll finish the cake.”

“Jung Wooyoung!”

part 2

#my writings #yeosang fanfic #ateez fanfic #ateez scenario #yeosang scenario #idk what else to tag this as #yeosang x reader

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bqstqnbruin · 5 years ago

Text

Teach me something 2

It is 2:30 in the morning and here I am dropping something that is so cheesey we should call it fondue (ignore me I’m tired)

BUT this is the fic that I was talking about that I decided is going to turn into a four part mini series, so I hope you like this. Sorry for typos, but y’all know me well enough by now to expect them.

Read the other parts: part 1 // part 3 // part 4

---------

“Hey, guys, come on! I asked you to do this silently, this is not something we’re doing as partners,” you yell over your students. “The only reason you should be talking right now is if you are asking me a question and Josh is the only one doing that right now.”

Your students are not listening to you; it was the end of the day and a beautiful day at that. With the weather getting warmer and nicer compared to the winter you just had, the last thing your students wanted was to be doing chemistry; they wanted to be outside.

“Excuse me!” you end up yelling, something you hadn’t done before, causing some of your students to jump, “If you’re trying to be louder than me, it’s not going to work. Do you want to see how loud I can be?” You couldn’t believe you were yelling at your students, but for some reason, you were just at a breaking point. You see Annie across the room, eyes wide, shaking her head no at you being the loudest one, “Annie is saying no, do you guys agree?”

The students murmur in agreement, not talking and leaving the classroom in an awkward silence. Before turning back to Josh, you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath to try to calm yourself down a little before talking again, “I’m sorry guys, but I did say that this was something you should be trying on your own. If you have questions, ask your partner quietly. There is no need for me to have to shout over you.”

The entire week had been absolute chaos: the lab you wanted to do with your students didn’t work the way you wanted to, the warm weather was causing your students to act absolutely batshit by the end of the day, you hadn’t seen your husband since Sunday because of how busy he was gearing up for the playoffs with the Flames, and you were just overall falling behind on everything you wanted to do. Nothing was going right for you.

You sit down for the first time since lunch, your students working quietly the rest of the period, only whispers of sound as they asked each other questions they were probably too afraid to ask you at this point. The bell rings, signaling the end of the week, your students scurrying out as fast as they can, hopefully just to get outside and not to get away from you.

Searching through your desk, you finally find your phone buried under papers that you had to take home and grade that weekend. The end of the quarter was coming up, and you had at least seven assignments to get through and put in your grade book. Shoving them in your bag, you find Matthew’s contact, hoping that he was finally out of practice to pick up.

“You have reached the voicemail box of: Matthew Tkachuk,” you hear his voice intertwined with the automation for the voicemail greeting he was too lazy to customize, “Please leave a message after the tone.”

“Hey, babe,” you say, looking at the ring on your finger, “I’m done for the week, I’m probably going to be heading home soon but I want to try to get some grading done first. Any way you can pick something up for dinner tonight? I’m exhausted and I just don’t feel like cooking, unless you want to. Ok, call me when you’re out of practice. I love you, bye.”

You keep your phone out on your desk, sound on for if Matthew actually calls you. The entire week had been a game of telephone tag, and you were praying you would finally catch each other before actually seeing each other at home.

“Hey, Mrs. T?”

“Oh, hi, Nazeem, what’s up?” you greet one of your students as he comes in and sets his bag down on the lab bench.

“I was wondering if you could help me with those K problems?”

You sit down and get started, working on practice problems and trying to reteach him the equilibrium problems, “Ok, so for this problem, are we at equilibrium?”

“No.”

“How do we know that?”

“Um, because it says that,” he hesitates, scanning the words of the practice problem again, “the concentration of the NH3 is 0.405 molar, and it asks for the direction of the equilibrium shift?” he guesses.

“Yes, but you’re guessing aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” he admits, causing you to let out the first small laugh you had all week.

“Ok, so with these problems, it’s important that you know you can’t just use K, right? Because K is used for what?”

He stops and thinks for a moment, brow scrunched as he tries to answer your question, “When you have initial concentration and you’re looking for equilibrium?”

“You’re guessing again,” you tell him as he just nods admitting to it, “You clearly know the answers to what I’m asking, there’s no need to guess. Trust your answers, you’re going to need to on your final. But if we aren’t going to use K, what are we going to use?”

“Q.”

“Exactly. Calculate that, and then call me back, I’m going to grade some stuff, ok?” He nods, putting his head down to his paper to get to work. You go back to your desk and start grading, checking your phone to see if Matthew had at least texted you back. Nothing on your screen but the picture of your first kiss as husband and wife that you had as your background for the last couple of months. You would give anything right now to go back to the month leading up to your wedding last summer; you and Matthew were both off from teaching and hockey, spending a month of bliss together doing whatever you wanted.

“Mrs. Tkachuk?” you hear Nazeem ask, snapping you out of your daydream, “I think I got Q.”

“Let’s see. Ok, so you found that Q is 0.233, while K is given as 0.00542. So what does that mean for the equilibrium shift?”

“It shifts to the,” he starts, hesitating, only to be interrupted by the sound of your phone playing John’s Legend’s Stay With You, the song that was your first dance at your wedding. “Do you need to get that?” he asks, looking panicked that you would leave him for your phone call.

You knew it was Matthew calling you back, but you were with a student, therefore, still at work, “No, that’s just Mr. Tkachuk. I can call him when I’m on my way home.” The two of you get back to the problem, working for another half an hour before he finally says his mom was there to pick him up.

“Thank’s Mrs. T!” Nazeem calls, rushing out the door to meet his mom in front of the building.

Finally able to go back to your phone, none of your grading done that you had wanted to get done, copies that you just remembered you had to make for Monday, and a new voicemail to listen to. “Hey, love. Sorry I missed you. I’m just getting out of practice. I have an early day tomorrow and then they just told us today that we’re leaving for Dallas on Monday instead of Tuesday like we were originally supposed to. I’ll see you at home, but is there anything specific that you want me to get? Chinese, Italian, sushi, burgers, etcetera, etcetera. Honestly, all of that sounds good to me. Ok, I love you, bye.”

You send the stuff you need printed, pretty much sprinting down the now deserted hallways as you were probably the last teacher there. “Hey, Matthew. I guess you’re driving? God, I can’t wait to get home and see you, especially since I’ve seen you all of, what, twenty minutes since last week? And get whatever you want, I don’t care, but oh, can you please do the dishes? They’re piling up in the sink and I’m pretty sure most of them are yours,” you tell him, even though that doesn’t really matter. The copier starts growling at you, spitting out the copies as you pray that it doesn’t crap out on you in the middle of the print job, “Sorry, that’s the copier. Remember the day I told you about being in the Stampede, you wanted to push the buttons on this thing? Maybe next time you come you can play with it, admin said when it breaks for it good we can get a new one. Welp, ok. I love you, see you at home.”

You get back to your classroom, stuffing the folders with the fresh copies, thinking back to that day a few years ago when Matthew had been doing the same thing. Matthew hadn’t really been in to visit during the school year since, but he was always the first one to offer to come in when you said you needed help with something, even if it was something he couldn’t help with.

Driving back to your apartment, you just want Matthew to call. Packing up your bag and lugging out the 210 or so things you needed to grade, plus the material you needed to play the lessons for the next week that you were still struggling with actually exhausted you. The only thing you wanted to do was go home and see your husband for a night before he had to be whisked away a day earlier than originally planned to spend what would now be six days in Texas.

But the NHL and the Flames were pretty good about letting the guys know about schedule changes. It seemed sort of weird that the organization would let them know only a few days ahead of time. You could text Noah or Johnny and ask them about it, but what would that say about your marriage to Matthew that you’ve been together for less than a year and you’re already going behind his back to get information?

You know what? Screw it. “Call Johnny,” you say to Siri, Johnny’s contact coming up on your car dash.

“Hello?” you hear him ask, clearly tired from the day he had.

“Hey, Johnny, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh, hey, Y/N. What’s up? Is Matthew ok?”

“He’s fine, I just needed to ask you something,” you start, trying to figure out how to phrase it. You can’t straight up ask him if your husband was lying to you, but how to you put it otherwise? “I just wanted to check in; I heard you guys just found out today that you leave on Monday instead of Tuesday? I figured I’d offer to pick up some last minute things since I’m already doing it for Matty.”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’m all set. They told us about it last Wednesday, though. Matthew didn’t tell you?”

So he was lying? Or did he just forget to tell you until today? Either way, he shouldn’t have said that they found out today, he could have just said he didn’t remember. “I mean, I just remembered today. You know, long week, my students driving my crazy, normal stuff. But if you need anything, let me know. Tell Sean and Elias the same for me, too.”

“Gotcha. Bye, Y/N.”

He hangs up, leaving you to pull into your spot at your complex just in time to see Matthew running out the door. “Hey, babe!” he says, kissing you as you get out of your car. He was unusually happy for someone who seemed so tired on the phone. And for someone who just lied to his wife. “I’m running out to get the food now; I’ll be back in fifteen?”

“Ok,” you say, without being able to get another word in before he gets in his car and speeds off. You didn’t even know what you were eating, but at this point you would eat anything. You grab your bag, momentarily forgetting how heavy it was, lugging it inside to your place. All you wanted was to have a nice evening with your husband, one of the last ones you would probably be able to have for a while.

Wandering into the kitchen to put clean out your lunch bag, you find the sink full of dishes, indicating that Matthew had not loaded the dishwasher, even though you had asked him to. Sighing, putting your bag down on the counter, you get to work on the dishes. You probably needed something from the sink in the near future, and something told you Matthew wasn’t going to be getting to this any time soon.

Digging through the dishes, you prayed that none of them had started growing new substances that you didn’t want to deal with. Loading the dishwasher to capacity and still having more dishes, you sigh and just hand wash what was left. Mugs from last the beginning of the weak, plates, utensils, until you saw it: the handle of one of your favorite mugs, the rest of the mug not attached. Careful to dig around the rest of the sink, you found the rest of the mug, smashed under the weight of the dishes that had been sitting there. You had only liked the mug so much because it was the biggest one you had; there was nothing that special about it.

But it was enough for you to break, just like the mug had. All of the stress of the week came out right there, with you crumble to the floor crying, pulling your knees to your chest with your back against the cabinets, pieces of the mug still in your hands. Everything was getting to be too much, between constantly feeling behind at work, coming home almost every night to an empty apartment, doing everything to keep the apartment clean by yourself, and Matthew never being home was destroying you. You knew this would be hard when you said yes, but you never thought it would be this hard.

“Hey, babe, I got us burgers,” you hear Matthew call, walking into the kitchen, “Oh, my god, Y/N, are you ok?” He puts the bag down next to you, getting on the ground and pulling you into him. “What’s wrong?” he asks, kissing the top of your head.

You hold up the pieces of the mug, trying to stop crying. “Shit,” Matthew lets out once he realizes what you’re holding, “Did you drop it? Why are you sitting down, there could be shards on the ground.”

He picks you up off the ground, grabbing the food with his other hand. “No, I didn’t drop it,” you hear yourself yell, all of the crying turning into anger, “I found it broken in the sink because I have been asking you to do the dishes and the weight of everything on top of it probably broke it!”

“I’m, I’m sorry,” he stammers out, “I’ve been busy with practice and we’re leaving soon, and-”

“Like I haven’t been busy? I have a weeks work of assignments to catch up on grading, I need to plan the rest of next weeks lessons, make the tests for my AP kids because last years sucked, plus I’ve been the one keeping everything clean and the one thing I asked you to do, you couldn’t even fucking do that. Plus, you lied to me about when you found out you were leaving on Monday instead of Tuesday.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johnny told me.”

“You were talking to Johnny?”

“Yeah, I was talking to Johnny; I’m friends with him, too, remember? I asked him if he wanted me to pick anything up for him before you guys leave, like I always do, and he told me you found out last Wednesday? Why would you lie about it?”

“Well, what about the fact that you lied to me about dancing with the stampede?”

You stop and look at him, his face red as you can tell the anger is boiling up inside him. He hated that you had to go behind his back like that. But, you were due for a fight, you just wish it wasn’t over something so stupid like this, especially when he dodged your question in the first place.

“What are you talking about? That was five years ago. And I never lied to you about that!”

“It’s not like you told me the truth.”

“That doesn’t mean I lied about it,” you say, both of you raising your voices each time as if to outdo the previous voice level, “and if we’re really going to hash out and bring up stuff that we already said doesn’t matter, what about that time we went out with the guys and ran into, what, five girls you had hooked up with before you met me? How about we talk about that?”

“That doesn’t matter,” he snaps.

“Oh, it doesn’t? It doesn’t matter that you introduced me to them as your friend when we were engaged, only for one of them to tell me about all the sexcapdes you had, none of which I knew about. But that’s right, we had a night when we talked about all our past relationships to get them out in the open, hookups included, but I guess those girls just slipped your mind, didn’t they?” As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted it.

The look on Matthew’s face was one you had never seen before and never wanted to see again; the pain in his eyes as his face calmed from red to pink, trying to figure out if any of this was worth it. He turns around, facing the counter instead of you. He couldn’t take the look on your face any more than you could take the look on his.

“How can I expect to raise a family with you if you can’t even wash the damn dishes, Matthew!”

He whips around, eyes wide. “A..a fa-family?” he stammers out. “Are you?”

“What?” you ask, not sure what he means. “Oh, no, no I’m not. I’m just saying. We’ve talked about kids. We both want kids, hell we even already have names picked out. But how the hell am I supposed to be able to depend on you when you’re home to take care of children if you can’t even take care of you and me?”

“I do take care of you! I have done nothing but love you and support you in what you do with your life. You think that you would be living here if it weren’t for me?” He says, immediately recoiling at what he just said. He knows that teachers don’t make a lot of money, but he always loved that you were so adamant about doing something you were passionate about. “Y/N/N, I’m so-” he starts to say, walking towards you.

“You know what?” you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more from him. Of all the things he could have said, that was probably one of the most hurtful, “You have been my husband for almost a year,” you say, your pointer finger pressed to his chest, not fully pushing him away, but enough that he won’t come closer, “It’s time you start fucking acting like it.” Before he can get another word in, you turn on your heels and walk away.

“Where are you going?” he calls, trying to come after you.

“I’m going to Rory’s.”

“No, you’re staying here,” he says, trying to beat you to the door.

“No. You’re staying here and you’re going to figure out how to be a husband. I’m going to my friend’s place. I don’t care if that’s one less day with you at this point because if we don’t do this now,” you stop yourself, looking at the absolute pain in his eyes. You know you shouldn’t say it with his eyes glassing over with tears like they are, “then who knows how much longer we’re going to have.”

“Y/N, don’t leave,” Matthew pleads as you grab your keys, trying to ignore him. You could feel the tears coming back, but you couldn’t stay here with him. You go to your car, thinking that Matthew wasn’t following you. Pulling out of your spot, you see Matthew coming running, not fast enough since you pull away before he can get to you.

You drive around for a bit, debating on if you should even go to Rory’s or just go home. She was the one who had convinced you to tell Matthew about the Stampede, you knew she could give you advice with this. Knocking on her door, trying not to start crying again, she doesn’t answer. You should have called, you should just go back to Matthew.

“I’m coming!” you hear Rory call on the other end, just as you were about to leave. She opens the door, dressed like she’s getting ready to go out, “Hey, love, are you ok?”

She pulls you into her place as you start ranting to her about the fight that just happened with Matthew. “I just, I don’t know what to do. I love him, but I can’t keep doing things alone.”

“Did you tell him that?”

“No. I said he needs to figure out how to be my husband.”

“Look, you’re free to stay here for as long as you need to, but you need to go talk to him. Your marriage isn’t going to work unless you talk to him, just like I told you when you wouldn’t tell him about the Stampede,” she says, getting up and going to her kitchen.

She was right. You needed to go home to Matthew, but what would you even say to him at this point? What more could you tell him to get through to him that you needed your husband to actually act like your husband? You sit there on her couch, definitely intruding as she runs around her place getting ready to go out with her boyfriend, telling you not to worry because “he won’t be here to pick me up for another hour or so, he’s always late like that.” Meanwhile, Matthew was blowing up your phone with texts and calls that you weren’t answering.

This wasn’t fair to him; you shouldn’t be doing this. “Hey, Ror?”

“Yeah, Y/N/N?” She walks back into her living room to find you standing and trying to dig your keys out of your bag. “He wants you to be happy. Go talk to him.”

You rush home, definitely breaking a few traffic laws on the way. “Matthew?” you call once you get in the door. You look down, seeing the hallway lined with rose petals, an almost overwhelming smell of vanilla coming from candles that were lit in your home. “Matty?”

You follow the petaled path into the kitchen to see Matthew sitting at the table wearing blue dress pants and a white button-down, the outfit that he knew you loved on him, your favorite dinner sitting at your seat, along with a bottle of your favorite wine. “What is this?”

“I’ve been the worst,” he says, getting up to go to you. “I should have done the dishes before you asked, I shouldn’t have forgotten to tell you about leaving earlier and then lied about it, I should be at your beck and call at all times. I’m going to help you with your grading this weekend because the only place I’m going to be before I leave is at practice or by your side and no where else. I’ll even break into the school with you so we can break the copier.”

You can’t help but laugh, tears forming in your eyes, for the first time not out of sadness or anger. “You would do that for me?”

“I would do anything and everything for you. You are the love of my life. We said for better or worse, rich or poor, sickness or health until the day we die, and I know that I have never said anything that I meant more before I said that. I love you, Y/N, and I’m sorry if I haven’t been showing it,” he says, pulling you in for a hug.

“I love you, too. And I just need to you to do things when I ask you to. If I’m asking you for help it’s because I really need it.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I will, I just can’t lose you,” he says, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“The only time you’re going to lose me is when you wander away from me in the store,” you say. He laughs, wiping away the tear that had fallen from his eyes.

“I know you said we weren’t starting a family yet, but what do you say we go and practice?” he asks, kissing your forehead.

“I think you’ve had enough practice,” you tell him, smiling. His eyes grow wide, the smile on his face doing the same. Picking you up off your feet, he whisks you away to your bedroom, definitely not needing any more practice.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #calgary flames #calgary flames imagine #flames #flames imagine #nhl #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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x-woozi · 4 years ago

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Sugar, Spice, and Everything.. else?

Part 17: Family Dinner

Summary: After a very public embarrassing moment, y/n manages to make a few new friends. Though in trying to make those friends there is a bit of a complication in winning over the group.

A/n: Ta-da! I really hope you like it and don’t mind the “feature”(?). Please let me know what you guys think! 😊

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Tag list: @smileyjisung3 @milkywayfelix @scoups-of-sugar @holaaaf @hey-i-really-miss-you @kodzu-ken @axolotleyeliner @sunoo-luvs

Not having anything else going on you decided you would go over just to make sure Seungmin didn’t get seriously injured. Plus Felix said he was cooking, you didn’t know what, but you were sure it’d be good.

As soon as you reached the front door you could hear the yelling. It was about now when the wise words of Bang Chan came to mind, ‘what have I gotten myself into?’

You kid your hand to knock on the door. There was no answer and the screaming continued. After waiting a little long you tried the bell, still nothing.

Well they knew I was coming right? You thought to yourself reaching for the doorknob. Surprise surprise, it was unlocked.

You let yourself in and attempted to find the main source of the chaos. Peeking around the corner into the kitchen checking for Felix. He was in the middle of swatting Jisungs hand away when he tried to steal a bite. They both looked up when you approached the counter in front of you.

“How bad is it?” You asked, trying to prepare yourself.

“It tastes great!” Jisung smiled but then realized that you weren’t asking about the food. “Oh right, uh I wouldn’t go in there” he motioned to the living room.

“Yeah you’re not going to be happy” Felix added.

“Well now I have to go check” you sighed before making your way to see what was really happening.

They were definitely right, it wasn’t good. Changbin may be shorter than Seungmin but that didn’t stop him from tackling the younger boy and holding him in a headlock. Minho was standing just in front of you watching the two pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Come on Changbin I think he’s done now” Chan called out as he came down the hall. “Oh you really did come over, when did you get here?” He asked you as he sat on the couch. The two boys on the floor got up slowly dusting themselves off.

“Just now. I knocked and rang the bell,” you shot Changbin a glare as you helped Seungmin up. “No one answered so I just opened the door.”

“You just let yourself in?!” Minho asked “how?”

“I did this crazy thing where I used my hand to turn the doorknob and pushed it open” rolling your eyes “I did say I was coming to make sure no one got hurt too bad.”

“I was though” Seungmin coughed out giving Changbin the side eye.

Jeongin rushes into the room “You're here!” Pulling you into a hug.

“I sure am, you little cutie” you smiled poking his cheek.

“Yeah to babysit Changbin” Seungmin teased causing you to immediately nudge him telling him to stop.

“She's not here babysitting me, she's pretending to be your bodyguard.” Changbin countered before walking out of the room.

Me? A bodyguard? pft yeah, okay. You laughed to yourself.

“It’s ready!” Felix called “hurry before Jisung eats anymore!”

With how crazy they were with each other it was a little weird to see them sit together at one table and be somewhat calm. You might not ever get used to it.

Chan sat at one end of the table with Minho on the other. Jeongin, Felix and Jisung took their seats on one side with Seungmin and Hyunjin on the other. There was only one spot empty and you assumed that’s where Changbin would’ve been.

“Are you going to sit?” Jisung questioned.

“I was, but what about-“

“I got another chair” Changbin set it next to the one infront of you closer to Chan “I’ll sit here”

Now sitting between the two that, who since you’ve met them, have been fighting. You can see the evil smirk pulling at Seungmin's lips. The same one that appears right before he says something to Changbin to piss him off again. Before he has the chance to call for more harm to himself you poke his side and shake your head at him, to which he replies to with a disappointed sigh.

“Let’s just have a nice family dinner okay?” Felix said before fully settling to eat.

“So if this is a family dinner does that mean y/n is now a part of the family?” Jeongin asked. “Does that mean you’re replacing Minho as the mom??” His question silenced the table and caused you to choke on the water you were trying to drink.

“I’m not ready to have kids!” You raised your hands in surrender.

Minho looked stunned “why was I the mom?! I could be the dad!”

“No because Chan’s the dad” the youngests statement kind of made sense but it drew everyone’s eyes to Chan when he started choking on his food because of it.

“I didn’t know you were a father Chan” you laughed.

“Well you’re the new addition, and apparently now they’re yours too,” he retorted. “So welcome home honey.”

“This is not a good idea you guys, I am not responsible!” You tried to argue, throwing yourself under the bus, “hello I am a walking hazard!”

Seungmin placed a hand on your shoulder “it’s too late now, you’ve been promoted.”

“Yeah now we all have to pay” Changbin tried to mumble under his breath but you heard and hit his shoulder.

“Don’t be rude.” You cross your arms with a slight pout on your face, “I thought you were supposed to be nice to me now.”

“Alright I’m sorry” he yielded

“Wow see you’re doing great already,” Jisung commented across from you. “He never apologizes to us, even when Chan tries to tell him to.”

“Well that’s because he’s not as tough and scary as me” flexing your nonexistent muscles. There were a few muffled laughs but they all gave you questioning looks.

“Right.. okay no more fake parent talk, let’s just eat” Chan waved his hands dismissing the conversation just wanting to eat the food in front of him before it got cold.

As everyone started eating it got weirdly quiet, though it didn’t last long. Jisung being the adorable foodie he is very loudly yelled, “wow Felix this is great!”

Felix seemed completely done with him for the evening “You already knew that. You were just trying to eat all of it before it was even ready.”

You laughed as you enjoyed the meal, looking around the table. Most of them were just having their own side conversations. It was a nice family type dinner, the only thing seeming out of place was Changbin. Not in the way that he didn’t belong, just that he looked off today, more than normal. Sitting next to him and really looking at him now there was a small, slightly bruised cut just below his right eye.

“Hey what happened?” you asked as you reached up to touch it.

He winced when you made contact and grabbed your hand quickly, placing it on the table, “nothing, don’t worry about it.”

His action forced your eyes to his hand, which was also a little bruised. You picked it up to look at it better, “this doesn’t look like nothing Binnie”

“I said don’t worry about it” he snapped ripping his hand from yours and got up from the table.

All eyes were now on you again when you looked up. No one said anything, they just went back to what they were doing. You leaned over to Chan, “what happened to him?”

He shrugged “He doesn’t really talk about his fights.”

“You don’t worry or want to know?” you questioned.

“I mean he's never seriously hurt. It's always small stuff, so I just kind of let him be. He’ll be fine, just eat.”

You haven’t known him as long so maybe he really was fine, but you couldn't just brush it off or ignore it. Now you were going to worry. One of these days it might not be something small like a couple scrapes and bruises. If there was a chance to maybe help keep him from fighting, well then you were going to try somehow. Obviously no one else was going to talk about it right now. You figured you’d wait to try later, and just enjoy the food for now.

“Oh man I don’t think I can eat anymore,” Chan pushed his plate further from himself. “If I do I might explode.”

“Hmm I don’t know,” you start getting ready to take another bite. “I think I could go for some dessert.”

Jisung popped his head up with wide eyes making you giggle at just how much he really could look like a squirrel when he made that face. “What kind of dessert are we talking about?”

“I was thinking ice cream maybe?” you suggested.

Chan shook his head “You can count me out. I’m too full.”

“Alright I guess I’ll go, you need at least one real adult with you,” Minho spoke up pushing his plate from himself too.

“Umm I am an adult for one, and two what makes you the real adult?” you argued.

Hyunjin asked before Minho could respond, “okay so just me, y/n, Jisung and Minho?”

Jeongin nodded his head, “I’m just going to stay and play some games.”

Felix yawned, “Yeah I’m too tired from slaving away in the kitchen all day.”

“Don’t worry Lix we’ll bring you something back if you want?” Jisung asked.

“Should we ask if Changbin wants to come with us?” You asked remembering the absent member.

“It's probably best to just ask if he wants something on the way back,” Minho suggested.

“Yeah and there’s a place right around the corner so it won’t take that long,” Hyunjin added.

“Alright then let’s go! I am ready for a frozen dessert” clearly you were excited but you weren’t the only one, seeing how quickly Jisung jumped up to grab a jacket and his shoes.

It was a short walk to the ice cream shop and you were thankful for that much. The only issue was the line, it was like everyone in the neighborhood decided to come at the same time.

“Is the line always this long?” you asked, already starting to get impatient.

“Not really,” Hyunjin looked around the shop. “It might be because of the new guy up there.”

“Well that would explain all the customers being girls,” Minho commented trying to look up at the counter.

You tried your best to look past the line to see but couldn’t, “Well on a scale from 1-10?”

“I am not going to rate the guy!” Minho sounded so shocked at your question it made you laugh.

Jisung didn’t sound completely positive when he answered, “a 7 maybe?”

“Nah I’d give him like a 9” Hyunjin commented.

The two boys looked at each other and shrugged in agreement before turning back to you and answering together, “an 8.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’ll just wait and see for myself. I’m not sure I trust your judgment yet.”

Surprisingly the line moved up fairly quickly and you were able to see more than just the top of his head. You’re eyes widened seeing his face, recognizing him almost immediately. “How could you give him a 7?!” you asked in a whispered yell.

“At least I gave you an answer” Jisung shrugged looking at Minho.

“But he's on the dance team for our school, that automatically bumps him up,” you sighed. “Looks like Hyunjin is the only one I can trust here.”

With that comment Hyunjin did a little dance and sang, “I’m the favorite, I'm the favorite.”

Quickly trying to shush him when the two girls in front you turned to glare at you. Any other time you would’ve simply made a comment so they’d mind their own. At this time you were more worried about getting ice cream from the very attractive guy at the register.

“Look she's denying it, so you can’t be,” Minho teased.

“You’re embarrassing us all,” Jisung added. “Plus if anything I’m the favorite.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny any of this at the moment,” you said staring up at the menu. “because I don’t know what I’m getting and we’re next.”

Minho looked at you confused “This whole time, and you didn’t think about it?”

“I’m going to go with the strawberry cheesecake one,” Jisung was confident in his choice.

“Oh that sounds pretty good,” you commented thinking to get the same thing just as it was your turn to order.

“Hi, what can I get started for you?” The boy flashed a smile making you blush slightly, you moved your eyes down to his name tag.

’Dino’? Like -saur?

“And for the pretty lady?” he asked looking back to you after letting the boys order first since they knew what they wanted for sure and weren’t distracted like you.

“Uh-” You froze. He definitely flirts with all the girls, you told yourself even though it still made your face redden a little more.

“Gross” Hyunjin mumbled with disgust on his face.

Minho put some money on the counter in front of you, “We’re going to go sit down.”

“But-” Jisung tried to protest but was pulled away too quickly.

“So do you know what you want?” he asked again.

You, thinking to yourself, except it wasn’t. You only realized that when you saw the way his eyebrows shot up. “Uh I mean the cheesecake. Strawberry. In a cone.” You sputtered out quickly just trying to move past it. You pushed the money forward, rushed out a thanks and ran to where the boys were sitting. Of course they picked a table where they would be able to witness the whole thing. You could tell they did too, just by the looks on their faces.

“All that, and you didn’t get my change?” Minho asked.

“You didn’t even wait for his response,” Hyunjin laughed.

You rubbed your forehead as you slouched down in the empty chair and sighed, “I know it was bad.”

“Bad?!” Jisung yelled, making you sink even further down to avoid the eyes of the other people in the shop.

“Shhh, you don’t have to yell,” you whispered.

“He asked what you wanted and you responded with ‘you’. Who does that?”

Hyunjin hit his leg, “He’s coming, he's coming.”

A tray was set on the table between you and Minho, “Here’s your ice creams. Oh you forgot your change and receipt.” He made sure to hand the money to Minho but slid the receipt to you with a quick wink before returning to the counter.

“And that worked?!” Jisung asked, again very loudly, looking at the number written on the little paper on the table.

Minho hit the younger boy's arm “this is why no one tells you anything.” To which he responded by crossing his arms and starting to sulk.

“Anyways,” Hyunjin interrupted before they could continue, “do you plan on texting him?”

“I’m not sure yet. Can we just get out of here before I can embarrass myself anymore.”

During that short walk back Jisung continued to tease you about it, while Hyunjin teased him in your defense, “At least she got his number, even though the start was a little rocky” he joked.

“Ok, ok. Look,” you stopped to look at each of them. “When we get there, no one can know how bad that was. Got it, not a word.”

“Han? Keeping a secret?” Minho scoffed, “Good luck with that.”

You turned to him with the biggest puppy dog eyes, “Ji please try, I don’t want all of them to tease me about it too.”

“I will, I promise”

And he did. After you got back the only thing that came up was how you all forgot to bring the rest of the boys something back. No one really said anything about it except Jeongin, but you agreed to take him another time.

Now you just had to go home and decide on if you were actually going to text this Dino guy.

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drwcn · 5 years ago

Note

I can’t wait for more of your discordance au, I’m a sucker for angsty wangxian! I’m actually really curious about what’s going on with Lan Xichen the whole time he’s gone. Is he recovering for all that time or is there some political plot he needs to take care of? I saw that courtesan Meng Yao tag too which makes me even more intrigued 👀👀👀

Awww you guys >:) Thank you so much for the encouragement.

Unfortunately, Xichen and Huaisang are not a pair. The hidden agenda of this fic is xiyao (lol sorrah), and I know people tend to feel either YAY or NAY about xiyao so I’ve totally separated the wangixan and xiyao part. You can read one without the other and it wouldn’t make much of a difference at all. At best Meng Yao is mentioned in end of the later wangxian parts once or twice.

I love Xiyao because I think it’s full of possibilities. Obviously canon!xiyao is tragic and problematic af, but this is an au, so... I do ...what I...want? Meng Yao in this au is his own worst nightmare - a courtesan, and Zewu-jun is the handsome polite gentlemanly amnesiac he saves.

Below cut are more reasons why Lan Qiren longs for the sweet release of an early qi deviation (arc synopsis of lan xichen & meng yao’s half of the story).

Lan Xichen’s Arc: where politics turned deadly.

Well, just because Wen Ruohan isn’t a thing doesn’t meant the Yin Irons aren’t a thing. Is there political bullshit waiting to happen? Absolutely. Except our protagonists are proactive this time.

For months, both Qinghe and Gusu have been getting reports of strange sightings along their Lanling borders. NMJ and LXC have been investigating, and they suspect that JGS may have had something to do with it. Prior to Lan Xichen’s disappearance, he was getting close to finding out the truth.

What happened was this:

Xue Yang (who will exist solely in other people’s narration) had killed the Changs and taken a piece of the Yin Iron. Upon capture, XXC and SL (both alive and well and doing their own thing) delivered him to the Chief Cultivator, thinking justice has been served. (Lol. no.). Once JGS got his hands on one of those, he began to plan world domination bad things with it and shit started acting fucky right away, eliciting the suspicion and subsequent investigations of the Lans and Nies.

Jin Guangshan does wonder how his secrets are being leaked, but he doesn’t get to find out until the end.

Lan Xichen, on his part, is fairly sure of what’s been causing the appearances of these so called “fierce corpses”. He knows about Lan Yi’s barrier in the Cold Cave, and suspects someone has gotten their hands on a piece of the Yin Iron. Both he and Nie Mingjue suspect Jin Guangshan, and have been quietly collecting proof.

Jin Guangshan, not about to be defeated so easily, sets up a trap and ambushes Lan Xichen during one of his investigations. LXC was in “plain clothes” as part of the investigation, because it’s dumb to go around investigating dressed as the Sect Leader of Gusu Lan, but during the ambush, Lan Xichen loses Liebing and Shuoyue in the process. The only thing he has on him is Shuoyue’s sheath when he is found by Meng Yao.

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything or who he is. He sees a pretty young man who introduces himself as Lianfang. Lan Xichen was wearing blue when he was found, so “Liangfang” calls hims A-Lan.

Meng Yao’s tragic back story that’s actually tragic:

The bullshit - er, the story - as always, starts with Meng Yao getting kicked down the steps at Jinlintai by his Ho™ of a dad Jin Guangshan. In this universe, Jin Guangshan isn’t just a rich powerful Sect Leader, but also the Chief Cultivator. If anything, he has more reason than ever to make sure Meng Yao isn’t around to besmirch his good name (not that he has any good name to bismirch).

Claiming Meng Yao to be a liar, Jin Guangshan ordered his goons to have Meng Yao “taken care of”, but before that could happen, Madam Jin had come out to see what was the commotion. This was Zixuan’s birthday celebration after all, everything had to be perfect.

What she saw certainly enraged her, but her husband was about to kill a boy, possibly his own son, spill blood on their son’s day of birth celebration. Such cosmic bad karma she couldn’t possibly accept. “You don’t have to kill him, you absolute buffoon, just make sure he never comes back here!”

She meant buy his silence with money but Jin Guangshan had a more permanent solution.

Before the day’s out, Meng Yao was sold to a brothel, and was told “that’s where you belong”. Once, perhaps, he had dreamed about gaining the love of his father, but no longer. Now he simply wants his father ruined and dismembered.

But first he has to live.

The madam of the brothel had a keen eye for “good merchandise”, and one good look at young Meng Yao with those big eyes, delicate frame and dimples and she knew she could make big bucks off of him.

(And before anyone asks how old MY is here, the answer is: young. One of the many reasons why I would personally like to volunteer to stab JGS until it looks like he’s been cursed with the Thousand Holes Curse.)

The first couple of years were decidedly grim for MY. He was kept away from customers (mercifully), but he was a brutally trained in the art of dance and music. They kept him fed enough to dance but not too much to “ruin his figure”. His instructors quickly found that the youth was a quick study and got up no matter how many times he was trampled on (literally and metaphorically). It was no secret that life was gruesome, but Meng Yao survived. Meng Yao made his debut. Meng Yao became famous.

The establishment where he made his debut renamed him Lianfang - to collect/gather fragrance - and so from then on, he became Lianfang-gongzi. Soon, his art (and other stuff) caught the eye of an obliging patron who purchased him from the madam.

The patron, by all accounts, was a brute of man who had more appreciation for the liquor in his cup than the arts, but he was a cultivator, wealthy enough, connected to many other cultivator gentry familiues, and most importantly, led a subsidiary clan of the Chief Cultivator. As his prized courtesan and dancer, Meng Yao served at his whim, entertained at his parties and made happy his friends, all of whom were practicing cultivators or at the very least connected to the cultivation realm.

Our evil gremlin would not be our evil gremlin if he didn’t make the best of every situation. Meng Yao quickly discovered that not only was he particularly talented at getting people to divulge information to him, but that men were significantly uninhibited after sex and alcohol. Armed with a sweet face, an eidetic memory, and a hate inside him that longed to see Jin Guangshan severed limp by limp, he began his revenge plot.

(Here, I took inspiration from Nirvana in Fire’s character Princess Xuanji of the fallen Hua kingdom who was sold into servitude but established Hong’xiu’zhao, a spy network of girls/women who either worked as courtesans or secondary spouses of noblemen. Her goal was to create chaos and dissension within the royal court and government, like mites eating away at a large tree from within.)

Meng Yao amassed an enormous amount of intels on gentry families and evidences of the many underhanded conducts of the Chief Cultivator himself. He did this through his own work and through the other women working in his network, all of whom have been wrongfully aggrieved in some way. He promised them that one day he would help them to freedom.

For five years he’s been collecting secrets of gentry families, and had been stirring discord for three, weakening their cohesiveness, and using their growing animosity to weaken Jin Guangshan’s control on his subordinates. Naturally, Meng Yao heard about Xue Yang and the Yin Iron. It was also him who had been drawing attention to it for the other major sects.

Meng Yao doesn’t know Lan Xichen is the Sect Master of Gusu Lan, but he has no interest in hurting a man from nowhere. “You can stay here with me until you are better. After that, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to be on your way.”

Physically Lan Xichen recovered quickly, but when it was clear his memories wouldn’t be coming back, Meng Yao allowed him to stay.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Meng Yao has been Lianfang, been the famed courtesan, for longer than he cares to remember. He’s been had, used, and passed around by so many men that their faces are just blurried sillouettes in his memory. And yet, he’s never felt for a moment that he belonged to any of them, not even his patron, who possessed his contract and could resell him back to a lesser establishment and ruin him in a heartbeat.

But when A-Lan held him in his eyes, warm and dark like a summer’s night, without judgement or expectations, only gentle sweetness and a fond regard, Meng Yao could almost pretend he was just A-Yao, the name whispered reverently by those soft lips. The hand that held his moved to stroke his cheek, almost shy, and Meng Yao realized with a fearful pang that if this man from nowhere with nothing were to ask, Meng Yao could most definitely become his.

The thought scared him more than he was willing to admit.

The message delivered by the pigeon was clear. Meng Yao crumbled the slip of paper in his hand, then set it aflame in the candlelight.

The man who’s been living with him for the past four months, who he knew as A-Lan, who he trusted enough to take to bed, was the Sect Master of Gusu Lan: Lan Huan, Lan Xichen.

Zewu-jun.

Everyone, even a non-cultivator such as himself, has heard of Gusu’s Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen’s young widower, left alone after not even six months of marriage.

But if even he wasn’t married, Lan Xichen could never accept him as he was, no matter now much his personal desire wanted him.

His hands shook. He balled them into fists.

Meng Yao should’ve known... he should’ve known it was too good to be true.

No matter, he told himself. This too, is an opportunity, perhaps the only one I will ever have. I will use it to destroy Jin Guangshan once and for all.

Lan Xichen made his way to the window, and gazed out into the courtyard where A-Yao was reading under the willow tree.

You should go home, a voice inside him said. Go home to relief Wangji of his burden, to release Wuxian from his mourning. Go back to the seat of Sect Master and the responsibilities waiting for you.

One more day, another voice fought back. Just one more day.

He doesn’t leave for another month.

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

You and Me...

Chapter 4

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** Okay guys please pay attention to the warnings I’m about to say! This chapter gets a little heavy, and this is where it all starts to kind of pick up. This chapter will contain hints of non-con/ rape. Rough smut, Jensen is a complete ass hole in this one, and before you ask there is a reason for it, mostly to give you a peek at his mindset before things really get rocky for him. The actions of the characters in this fic are completely fiction, and they are not to be seen as reflections of the people themselves! Lighter warnings are language, self-loathing (implied on Jensen’s part), mild descriptions of injury related to sex, nothing heavy there’s worse out there, degrading actions in a way, regret, angst, smut, I think that’s everything. (At least I hope so.)

Word Count: 2236

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen Ackles x Misha, Jensen Ackles x Jared, Jensen Ackles x Jessica, Reader X OFC Alex

A/N: When I originally wrote this chapter I didn’t even know who Steve Carlson was, so the Steve in this story isn’t him lol. Oddly enough I wrote this before I even really knew he was making an album lol. Anyway, all mistakes are mine, please don’t copy my work, Feedback is golden. If you want to be added to the series tag list, or my tag list just let me know! I hope you enjoy this one. After this chapter things tend to start to pick up a little.

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

Jensen’s POV:

“I can’t believe she got you back!”

Jared was laughing, leaning up against the bar in Jensen’s kitchen. Misha was sitting across from him, trying to hide the fact that he thought it was more than a little funny as well.

“Yeah man, you kinda ask for it,” he finally said, taking a long swig of his beer. A smirk firmly planted on his face and his eyes sparkling with a hint of amusement.

"Screw you both,“ Jensen said, turning around and grabbing himself a beer out of the fridge, a smirk playing across his face. He saw the hint of jealousy cross Y/N’s face when he greeted Jennifer today. He didn’t miss that every time he gave Jennifer a compliment, or flirted with her just a little bit that it was getting under Y/N’s skin. He knew Y/N had a crush on him.

He’d been in the entertainment industry long enough to be able to pick it off a girl’s face across a room. Which came in pretty handy at bars and parties.

He saw the way her breath caught when she met him for the first time. He saw the smirk cross her face when he got pissed today while she was screwing with him.

Jensen slipped his tongue out and over his full pink lips, letting it run across his lips slowly, followed by his teeth pulling slightly at his bottom lip.

"I know that look,” Misha said not even trying to hide his amusement at this point. “He likes her,” he said, looking to Jared grinning like he’d just won the lottery. “Jensen’s got the hots for Y/N,” still with that same evil smirk on his face.

“What? No, I don’t!” Jensen said, getting up from his seat he’d just sat in across the bar from Jared and turning his back to them again so that they could not see his face, acting like he was cleaning up a spill on the counter.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen that look before. You got a crush on Y/N. Furthermore, I think she may have it for you just as bad. She just doesn’t know it yet,” Misha said, taking another swig of his beer, raising his eyebrows annoyingly.

“I do not have a thing for Y/N,” Jensen said, still trying to defend himself. “She’s a self-absorbed little bitch.”

“She’s only a bitch because you’re a dick,” Jared said, staring at his friend and trying his best to read him.

Jensen just stopped wiping at the counter and stared at him. The conversation he walked up on coming back to his mind. The look on Y/N’s face when she said that he was probably gonna go fuck Jennifer later stun more than he wanted to admit it did, even to himself.

He ran his fingers ideally over the small piece of paper in his pocket that Jennifer had slipped there when he hugged her goodbye today. No doubt it was her number. He definitely had a chance to get her in bed. That’s all he’d want from her anyway. She seemed like a nice enough girl, but she was a lot younger than him, and he didn’t want to screw up her life by letting her get attached to him. It had been way too long since he was ‘with’ a woman, and he needed to blow off some steam.

“I’m definitely thinking about hooking up with that blonde though,” Jensen said with a smirk, his friends exchanged worried looks between themselves.

“Jay she’s young, man,” Jared said looking at his friend, his concern grew more and more by the minute. He’d never seen Jensen act this way before, much less heard him talk about or to a woman the way he has lately.

“She’s legal,” Jensen said, waving his hand, and blowing his friend off, and pulling out his phone and the little slip of paper.

“Whatever man, I still think it’s a bad idea,” Misha said, getting up and finishing his beer. He didn’t like to see Jensen in this state, and he wasn’t going to watch him sit around and do something stupid.

“I’ll see you guys around. I got a charity event to help organize. You guys gonna be there?” he asked, looking at Jared more than Jensen. Seems like Jensen’s plans had already been set for the night.

“Sure man, I’ll be there,” Jared said, getting up to see Misha out to his rental car. Jensen just grunted and continued texting, setting up his meetup for tonight.

Your POV:

Sitting at your friend’s bar in downtown Austin you take a look at the room that was buzzing around you.

It wasn’t late, but it was a weekday, so the crowd here was kind of calmer than usual. You liked it when the bar was like this. Less noise and chaos. Alex, your friend, was leaning in on the bar cleaning off some spilled alcohol from a few minutes ago when he tried to show off his shot stacking skills and failed miserably. You needed the laugh. He was always good for that. That’s why he was one of the people you were closest to. He always knew how to pick you up when you needed it.

“So, how much longer do you have to work with said dick?” Alex asked, you weren’t supposed to tell anyone that Jensen was recording at your work, but you knew Alex wouldn’t tell anyone.

The two of you had met In college, and he was the older brother you never had. You told him everything. You always had. When you started having trouble in any way you always told him. This Jensen issue was no different.

“Not a clue. Kinda is up to him. However long it takes for him to correctly cut the 12 songs he’s chosen to record. He’s talented enough, but he’s such a raging ass hole,” you tell him, taking a long swig of your beer.

“You know it seems a little out of character for the guy. I’ve seen all the convention videos and watched the tv interviews. He didn’t seem like a dick then. Jared said he was going through a divorce. We don’t know what his ex-wife did. Just give him some space and some respect. We’re not in his shoes and we don’t know what he’s going through. He may loosen up around you now that he knows you can hold your own,” Alex said, walking down the bar to wait on another customer.

You knew he was right. He usually was. Alex always tried to see the best in everyone, no matter how they presented themselves. That was just his way.

Maybe some of this was your fault. You hadn’t exactly handled this situation like an adult either. So if you were being completely honest with yourself, you could be partially to blame.

Tomorrow you will try and make peace with the man because you didn’t really want to go to war with someone like him. You also had watched the con videos, and the thought of having to deal with an ass hole who likes to prank people just wasn’t falling very high on your bucket list.

Tonight though, you would enjoy the fact that today you won. That would be enough. You still had to work with the man for the foreseeable future. There was no reason to have to go to work miserable every day, just because you couldn’t handle a little attitude from a client.

You were going to be the bigger person if it killed you.

Still, when he looked at you, no matter how mad you were at him, or how much you tried to hate him, you get that same feeling deep in your gut that you haven’t been able to pinpoint yet. It bothered you. It bothered you more than it probably should have. Cause once he was done with this recording, you knew you’d never see him again. That was probably what got to you most of all.

Jensen’s POV:

Sliding his now softened length out of the young blond laying underneath him, Jensen immediately stood to his feet without even looking at Jennifer he started for the bathroom. She laid there on the bed, saying nothing, just staring at Jensen. A pissed off look on her face.

That was not what she expected.

That wasn’t what she really wanted.

How could she tell him no though? He really gave her no room for an opinion.

Jensen had been a little rough with Jennifer purposely. All he wanted was to do what came there to do and leave. He didn’t want her getting attached, and catching feelings that he honestly wouldn’t be able to reciprocate it.

Someone else seemed to have a hold on him already, no matter how much he fought against it.

He could tell she hadn’t enjoyed what had just gone on between them. He had got off though, and so in his opinion, his mission was accomplished.

When he came out of the bathroom he saw her sitting with her back to him slipping her shirt back on over her head. He saw the light purple bruises he had left on her neck and sides. Flashes of what went on a few moments ago ran in front of his eyes.

Her small frame slamming against the door. His hands roughly undressed her. The feeling of his hand firmly around her throat. The look of fear in her eyes.

He shook his head trying to shake the image from his mind. Guilt already starting to take its hold.

When she stood to slide her skirt back up her legs he saw the bruises he had left here in the shape of his fingers. She had told him he was hurting her, that she wanted him to stop; but he didn’t. He just kept going until he was finished... Why didn’t he just stop…

Jensen swallowed hard, trying to not vomit in the middle of the hotel room floor. His own actions made him sick to his stomach. Why did he do that? What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t want to hurt her. He just… He just lost control, taking things out on her that he’d obviously had pint up inside of him since the divorce.

Walking over to her without a word Jensen looked down at her, and she wouldn’t look at him. Damn, he’d screwed up now, and he knew it.

Putting his finger under her chin, making her look at him. He stared at her for a moment. There was something wrong, no light there. The excited girl he’d taken here just an hour before long gone.

He hated what he was doing, but he had to protect himself.

“Let’s just keep tonight between you and me. No need for anyone else to know,” he said, winking at her like it could solve everything, and she’d just melt at his feet and forgive him.

He knew that wasn’t going to happen. She said nothing, just stared at him with hate forming in her eyes. Pulling a few bills from his pocket, Jensen threw it on the bed next to her. She looked down at the money, and then up to him.

“Show yourself out,” he said. grabbing his wallet and heading for the door.

He hated himself for what he just did. He saw it now. He needed help. The look on that poor girl’s face haunting his memory as he drove back to his house, stopping several times along the way to throw up. Even though it started out consensual, it hadn’t ended that way and he knew it.

He didn’t even make it to the front door before another wave of bile fell from his mouth uncontrollably, having already lost the entire contents of his stomach on the drive home.

He had turned into a monster. He hated himself for what he’d just done, but he couldn’t take it back. It was done. There was no way to fix it.

Images of himself repeatedly ramming himself into her. The dead star that took hold on her face after she finally gave up begging him to stop. The tears that were pouring down her face. How she tried to squirm away from him...

Another wave of sick came falling from his mouth as he stood in the shower, scrubbing his skin raw under scalding hot water, trying to wash the monster away. He’d never forgive himself for what he’d done to Jennifer. He dreaded facing her at the studio tomorrow. How in the hell was he going to face someone he’d hurt so deeply?

He drank himself to sleep that night, texting Jared telling him that he was sorry for the way he’d been acting, promising he would stop being an ass hole. He didn’t tell his friend what he’d done, he couldn’t, he could never tell anyone. It would die with him, shame making him hate himself deeper than he ever thought was possible.

He laid there that night praying that whoever was listening up there would forgive him for what he’d done.

Give him another chance.

—————————————————————————————————-

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daughterofluthien · 4 years ago

Text

Fictober - Day 6 / Whumptober - Day 6

Prompt number: 6. “that was impressive” Fandom: Teen Wolf Rating: T Characters/Relationships: Alan Deaton and Scott McCall Word Count: 2865 Warnings/Tags: canon-typical violence, possession A/N: Deaton POV of the end of 3x19 “Letharia Vulpina,” with added episode tag

The plane landed after nightfall, and he knew he was running out of time.

It was ironic, really. The majority of the trip -- including entering a Yakuza base of operations under false pretenses -- had gone nearly as smoothly as he could’ve hoped. He had even managed to carry the sample vial of lichen through customs in his medical bag with very little fuss.

The first sign of trouble was on the connecting flight out of Sacramento. According to the scheduled arrival time, they were only a half an hour away from their destination when the pilot announced over the intercom that an unexpected thunderstorm had formed, and they would be experiencing some turbulence.

This turned out to be an understatement.

When they did finally reach their destination, the pilot informed the passengers that they had not been cleared to land. This was due to the amount of lightning activity in the vicinity of the airport, and Deaton felt a sense of growing dread. The forces of nature often reacted in sympathy to intense foci of supernatural activity, and such events had been known to cause storms in the past. And when the supernatural activity in question was a pitched battle between ancient spirits known to harness electricity--

If the storm dissipated long enough for the plane to land, that might mean it was already too late.

Eventually, there was a sufficient break in the lightning strikes, and the plane landed without any serious incident. All departures had been delayed, however, as weather reports forecasted that the storm would only get worse before it got better.

The storm was already severe, and Deaton drove back to Beacon Hills faster than was strictly safe in these conditions.

If they followed the previously established pattern, then the Oni would’ve manifested as soon as the sun fully set, which meant they were already active. Of course, they weren’t technically a danger to anyone except the Nogitsune and its host, but if someone tried to interfere with their task, he knew they would show no mercy.

He also knew that Scott would almost certainly interfere.

Even through the storm, he could hear the sound of a fight behind the clinic, so he parked in front, mentally running through the steps necessary to prepare an injectable suspension from the lichen.

Intramuscular injection would be preferable, to get the solution inserted as close to the nervous system as possible, he decided. Keep the spirit from puppeteering its host by manipulating the electrical impulses controlling the musculature and brain. An aqueous vehicle would be best. Include a small amount of ethyl alcohol to break down the lichen, hopefully releasing the toxin into the body at a faster rate--

He entered the clinic and was immediately greeted by the sound of someone in pain.

His blood ran cold. Apparently, his fears on the plane had not been unfounded after all.

It was only the sounds of pain and not the sounds of fighting, which indicated that the Oni hadn’t yet materialized inside the clinic. That meant that, with a little luck, they still had time. He gripped his medical bag tighter and hurried towards the back room, closing the gate behind him as he did so. From what Scott had told him, the Oni were eventually able to break a mountain ash barrier, but it took energy and time.

Tonight, time would be invaluable.

He turned around to see Scott, rain-soaked and in visible pain, fully impaled with what looked to be an ancient Japanese sword, though it was too dark to make out any further details. Kira was attempting to pull it out, but in what he assumed was fear of hurting Scott further, she did not use the amount of strength required to cleanly remove it. Scott’s didn’t scream, but his face contorted in pain.

The sword remained firmly lodged in place.

Deaton was about to rush forward and assist, when Stiles -- or rather, the Nogitsune -- grabbed Kira by the wrist and threw her into the table with the sort of strength only possessed by supernatural beings. She slumped to the ground, unconscious.

Dread settling deep in his gut, Deaton stepped back into the shadow of the doorway. Short of breaking the mountain ash barrier and letting the Oni in, the small sample of lichen that he carried in his kit and had traveled over 5,000 miles to find was the only possible hope of subduing the spirit that was inhabiting the teenager.

And it wasn’t ready.

Between the items in his kit and the supplies in his office -- mostly consisting of overflow from the fully stocked exam room, but sufficient for his purposes -- he should be able to synthesize the mixture quickly. But it would still take time.

According to all the information that he could find, Nogitsune gained power and strength by leeching off of pain, fear, and other negative emotions. With the Oni bearing down on its location, Deaton knew the Nogitsune would be desperate for the power to match them.

It wouldn’t kill Scott until it had devoured every last bit of fear and pain available for the taking. If he worked quickly, he would have time to prepare the solution.

It was a cold comfort.

When the Nogitsune’s back was turned, he slipped into his office. He caught a glimpse of Scott’s face as he passed and saw the dread that he was feeling mirrored in Scott’s eyes. Deaton thought grimly that if the spirit was in fact looking to maximize horror and fear, terrorizing the young man while wearing the face of his best friend was certainly an effective method of doing it.

He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, according to the legends, the creature had existed for centuries. Perhaps even a millenia. It was only logical that, in all that time, it had learned to hone its craft.

Once inside his office, Deaton opened his kit on the desk and set to work as quickly as possible. He didn’t close the door, as everything counted on him remaining unnoticed. He didn’t dare do anything that would alert the Nogitsune to his presence before the solution was prepared.

The open door also meant that he could clearly hear the proceedings in the back room.

He emptied the sample jar of lichen into a mortar and pestle, and began to grind it into a fine powder. Or rather, paste, as the lichen was still fresh and held a fair amount of liquid.

In the other room, the ancient chaos spirit spoke to Scott with a mockery of a best friend’s concern. “You okay?”

“Please don’t. Stop.” Scott’s reply was more accurately breathed rather than spoken, and Deaton’s heart broke. He had, of course, seen the young man terrified on numerous previous occasions -- but this was the first time he had ever heard him beg.

He tipped the contents of the mortar back into the sample vial, and scraped out every last bit of lichen that he could. He recognized the inherent danger in using all of the material that he had, but this sort of thing had not yet been quantified by science. If he skimped during the first preparation and it wasn’t enough, he likely wouldn’t survive long enough to try again.

In the other room, Scott screamed.

Deaton’s hand tightened around the vial. He didn’t increase the speed at which he was making the solution, because the risk that he would make a noise that could be heard by the Nogitsune was too great. Because any error or misstep could get all three of the teenagers trapped in the adjacent room killed.

He measured out the proper amount of distilled water in a graduated cylinder. Added it to the vial. Measured a smaller amount of ethyl alcohol.

The Nogitsune’s quiet, measured voice overlapped with the sounds of pain that started and stopped in short bursts. “Does it hurt? Hey, look at me.”

Deaton wanted to tune it out, but he was well aware that would be foolish. For one, it was important to know your enemy. Any details that the being let slip in a moment where it thought it had total control could be important. And second, as a medical practitioner, he had a duty to pay as close attention to any signs of Scott’s physical state as possible, in case the situation became so dire that he needed to intervene immediately.

He wasn’t sure what he would do if that moment came before the solution was prepared.

He added the ethyl alcohol, capped the vial, and shook it vigorously. The ground lichen swirled through the liquid, tinting it a light and cloudy green.

Outside, the spirit continued it’s monologue. “A Nogitsune feeds off chaos, strife, and pain. This morning, you took it from Isaac, then you took it from Coach. And then from a dying deputy.”

Deaton closed his eyes. Selfishly, he found himself wishing that he had never taught Scott about that side of his abilities. Though, he supposed that the teenager inherently cared so much and so deeply for others, that he would have discovered it on his own, even without Deaton’s interference.

Scott McCall was only seventeen years old, and he had every right to be as selfish and self-centered as boys his age often were. Yet without fail, he always considered the well being of others above his own.

It was part of the reason that he rose to the status of True Alpha less than a year after being bitten.

It also made Deaton worry deeply about him, as Scott refused to worry about himself.

He selected a needle -- large gauge, so there would be little chance of the particulate in the solution clogging at the entry point. Screwed it onto the tip of the syringe.

The Nogitsune’s voice deepened, finally revealing itself as the demon it truly was. “Now, give it to me.”

There were no longer sounds from Scott.

Deaton knew that if a werewolf took too much pain, their system could eventually be overwhelmed, sending them into shock and damaging them beyond the healing capabilities of the body. This could eventually lead to death.

He did not know what would happen to the body if that pain was violently consumed by an ancient spirit of chaos. He imagined that it couldn’t be good.

He was running out of time.

Deaton loaded the syringe.

“You really have to learn, Scott. You really have to learn not to trust a fox.”

He depressed the plunger slightly. Primed the needle.

“Y’know why? ‘Cause they’re tricksters.”

He tapped the syringe, dispersing any air bubbles.

“They’ll fool you.”

Done.

“They’ll fool everyone.”

Deaton walked into the exam room and -- in one clean, practiced motion -- injected the contents of the syringe into Stiles’ neck.

The Nogitsune’s control of its host was instantly severed, and Stiles crumpled to the ground.

Thankfully, Stiles didn’t immediately seize or have a visibly severe reaction. He was immobile on the ground, which was mildly concerning, as the fully human Stiles should not have been harmed by the lichen, but the others needed more immediate medical attention. Kira was still unconscious on the ground, and Scott--

Scott was braced against the exam table. Panting. Face pale. Fully impaled by what Deaton could see now was a wakizashi. He hadn’t spoken since Deaton had entered the room.

Deaton wasn’t sure if, in his current state, he was even capable of it.

Scott’s eyes were wide and panicked, as if he didn’t fully believe that Deaton was really there. Deaton met them with a grave look, because this wasn’t going to be pleasant.

Not for the first time, he wished that supernatural creatures didn’t metabolize anesthetic so quickly.

He braced a hand lightly on the teenager’s torso, careful to not place it too close to the wound, and with the other hand pulled the sword out as quickly and cleanly as he could manage.

He was glad the sword was straight, rather than curved. He’d rather not cause any additional damage during the removal.

Scott still groaned loudly as the blade was yanked free. Deaton let the offending object clatter to the ground.

Unsurprisingly, the first thing Scott did was to ask after Stiles.

Deaton wished that he had better news to give him -- while the fox inside of Scott’s best friend was currently incapacitated, he had no idea how to remove it or kill it. “Not yet.” He fixed the body on the floor with a look.

Scott appeared to have only started to process that information, when they were interrupted by a groan, and he looked over, startled. “Oh god, Kira!”

Nearly hidden behind the exam table, Kira had begun to stir. Scott started to bend down to check on her, but Deaton could see that he was in obvious pain, exhaling through gritted teeth.

He placed a hand gently against Scott’s chest, halting the movement. “I wouldn’t do that just yet, if I were you. Those muscles are still healing, and we wouldn’t want to tear anything further.” He followed Scott’s gaze to the girl on the floor. “I’ve got her, don’t worry.”

After a brief moment, Scott nodded, and Deaton bent down to help. He checked her head for any bleeding or contusions, but she seemed fine. When Kira assured him that the only thing she felt was a little lightheaded, he helped her to a chair.

If she had been fully human, he would’ve been worried about a concussion, but he suspected that the fox spirit inside her would prevent that sort of thing from happening. While he didn’t know if she had learned to consciously master her healing abilities yet, those sorts of things tended to happen a lot more automatically when the individual was incapacited.

Kira’s gaze landed on the bloody sword on the ground, before glancing up and over at Scott. “So now what?”

Scott, for his part, was standing stock still, with his hand over the wound in his abdomen. He was staring at Stiles.

Kira persisted. “Scott?”

He shook his head. “I don’t-- I don’t know.”

Deaton gathered a few medical supplies, then returned to Scott, carefully lifting up his shirt to clean the wound and tape a bandage in place. He noted with satisfaction that the torn edges of the puncture had already begun to show signs of healing. While he didn’t look up from his work, he interjected anyways. “Now, the three of you need to get back to your homes and rest. You’ve had a very long night.”

He glanced up at Scott, who could still barely move following his injury, but he only furrowed his brow in confusion. “All three of us? Even Stiles?”

Deaton nodded. “The poison I injected in his system should give Stiles control of his body back, at least for a couple days.”

A little bit of hope returned to Scott’s eyes. “Long enough to buy us some time to fix this. To save him.”

“But what about the Oni?” This was from Kira, and she still sounded terrified.

Deaton glanced over at her. “Well, they haven’t gotten in here yet. And if I’m right, the wolf lichen has surprised the spirit deeply enough that the Oni will no longer immediately register him as supernatural.” He looked back at Scott, because he knew the young Alpha had the same fears. “He’ll be safe.”

Scott released a breath, and at least a small amount of tension visibly left his body. “Thank you.”

Deaton smiled. “Anytime.”

In the end, after a matching bandage was placed over the exit wound on Scott’s back, it was decided that they would call Sheriff Stilinski to come pick up Stiles, as the older man was likely worried sick. Once Scott was healed enough to move, he and Kira would take the jeep to go back to their own homes.

While Scott called the Sheriff, and Kira texted her parents to let them know she was okay, Deaton knelt down to check on Stiles, who still had not fully stirred. However, despite the trauma of an entity invading his body and mind, the boy’s pulse was strong, and his pupils were evenly dilated. That was not a guarantee of anything, of course, but all they could do now was wait and see when he woke up.

As he worked, Deaton spoke quietly to the spirit locked inside the teenager’s mind. “You know, I know you can hear me,” he said conversationally, “And I suppose you thought that was impressive, getting them all to jump to your every whim like that. The chaos and fear left in your wake. But you chose the wrong host.”

He glanced over at Scott, who was still on the phone, tired but determined. “You chose his best friend. And he’s not going to stop until he figures out a way to remove you, permanently. And as for me, well, I’m generally not one to advocate for killing. I prefer to heal.”

Deaton thought about Scott’s screams of pain. The Nogitsune taunting him with the face and voice of his best friend.

“For you, though? I’m willing to make an exception.”

#fictober20 #whumptober2020 #no.6 #stop please #teen wolf #fic #possession tw #violence tw #alan deaton #scott mccall #whoops this one actually took 3 days whatcha gonna do #also i fell asleep right before posting this last night 😂#my fic

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