#worth every penny Hes so funny i love his voice

[saturnerens]

LOOK WHATTTTT IIIIII BOOOOUUUUGGGHHHHHTTTTTTTTTTT (yes i already own the paperback but Who gaf!!)

[isa-beenme]

Velar is citizen with azriel?

The requests are ending and I'm DESPERATE

There's only one more someone help me, send something, ANYTHING, doesn't even need to be from the bingo 😭😭😭😭😭

I don't think I have enough creativity to think alone with my own head

This one is small but so cute 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 azzie's shadows 🥺😭😭😭😭 I would date him just to play with his shadows honestly

Golden

Azriel strolled through the vibrant streets of Velaris, his usual calm demeanor slightly disrupted by the bustling energy surrounding him. Everything has been peaceful since the official end of what they called the "Age of Terror" and the defeat of a great part of their enemies. Despite the happiness that overflowed him, Azriel somehow missed all the agitation and the danger. Not that he didn't have anything to do, but the number of missions that requested his presence started to short as time flew.

Without the mess and agitation, he wanted to settle down as his brothers did, find someone to love and to live a quiet and peaceful life with, or the closest a spymaster could get on that topic. This proved itself to be the hardest thing he ever did in his life since his options were scarce. Everyone seemed to fear him or not even interested in anything but his dick.

As he neared his favorite coffee shop he noticed a little commotion on the front door. The shop was a quaint little place tucked away amidst the city, not very known by the population but definitely worth every penny he spent. It didn't take long for him to notice a sign that read "New Barista". Apparently, this new person brings a new wave of interested people to the store. He couldn't help but be happy since he knew the owner was an old lady that didn't want much but to see his clients happy.

Curiosity sparked within him, and he decided to step inside, intrigued by the idea of someone fresh in the city, something that became common since the war stopped and thousands of people from every court went to Velaris searching for a better place to start their lives. The moment he walked through the door, his eyes found you. A young female with captivating eyes and a smile that seemed to light up the room was the best way to describe Azriel's first impression. 

You stood behind the counter, diligently preparing orders for the eager customers at the same time you kept a conversation with each of them, always looking interested in whatever they were saying. Azriel took a moment to observe you, admiring the grace with which you moved around the shop, an effortless charm evident in every gesture. It was in that instant that he knew he had to get to know you, to uncover the stories that lingered behind those enchanting eyes.

Summoning all his courage, Azriel approached the counter, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. 

-Good afternoon - He greeted, offering a polite smile. 

-Oh, hello there. What can I get you? - You turned around to see him, slightly shocked by him. Everything in his appearance looked so… perfect. It was almost scary.

-Just the usual for me, please - He asked, already taking off the coins to pay. You didn't move an inch, smiling at him as if it was funny. It took him some moments until he realized his mistake - Of course. I'm sorry, you're new here. Uhm, a regular black coffee, that's all.

-Okay then, a regular black coffee it is - You said, already starting to prepare his order.

-I couldn't help but notice you're new here - You stopped what you were doing, looking at him with a confused expression. He looked back at you, before realizing his second mistake of the day - I mean, new in the city. I never saw you around - Your eyes met his for the briefest of moments before you returned to work, a big smile on your face.

-Yes, I am. Just moved to Velaris a few weeks ago. It's been quite an adventure so far - Intrigued, Azriel leaned against the counter, eager to engage in a conversation, watching to stop himself from making another mistake. 

-Velaris is a wonderful city, there are a lot of things to do. Have you had the chance to explore much of it yet? - You paused again, quite shocked by his sudden interest.

-Not as much as I'd like. Any recommendations? - You asked with a playful glint in your eyes, testing his intentions.

-Well, there's a hidden garden not far from here, tucked away from good part of the prying eyes - Azriel's lips curled into a mischievous smile, getting closer to you as if to whisper a secret - With prying eyes I mean my family. They are quite the gossipers - You couldn't help but laugh, the coffee quickly forgotten on the counter.

-I thought you being the spymaster would be the biggest font of the gossips - He almost looked offended if it wasn't for the smile that started to grow on his face.

-I never said I wasn't, it doesn't mean I want them prying on my business - You felt your cheeks reddening as you took in his words, understanding that you would be one of his business - About the garden, it's quite a beauty in this season if you allow me to say. Would you care to accompany me there one evening? - Your eyes widened with surprise, a deep blush painting your cheeks now. 

-That sounds... lovely. I'd be thankful if you showed me - You turned back at your work before your colleague gets the opportunity to get mad at you for not working - Okay, I think that's it. A regular black coffee for the Shadowsinger - He took the cup from your hand and made a little bow, making you chuckle a little. He took a sip of it and started to turn around, but he stopped in the middle of the way and came back to the counter.

-I'm sorry, but I think there is something wrong with my order - He gave the cup back to you and you felt your heart beat faster. If your first mistake was with him your career could be done. And maybe your date too.

-What is wrong? I can fix it - You gestured to the cup, ready to throw it away and make a new one.

-I'm sure you can fix it. It's just that is missing your name in the cup - You stopped middle way, looking at him in disbelief as his smile took over his whole face, making him look even more beautiful than before - It's unfair that you know who I am and I only know that you're the pretty fae that makes a delicious coffee.

-Okay, you got me there - Your cheeks were already hurting from smiling so much, still in disbelief at his attitude - You can't ask your shadows, anyway?

-Well, I can. And they already know. But if I ask you then I have a reason to hear you talk - You wrote it all down in his cup and gave it back. He read it and turned the cup to you, lots of words written down but any was your name. His eyes asked you a silent question.

-My address. So you can pick me up and take me to the garden. You can ask my name there - You smiled brightly at him, calling for the next customer.

You exchanged one last look before Azriel leaves the coffee shop with a newfound happy pace in his step. He couldn't help but feel that this meeting was something special, the start of something he couldn't quite take place yet. His shadows poked him in his cheek, which was still locked in a big smile.

-What? You never saw me flirting? - He asked to the smoke around him. The little beasts surround him as if they were laughing - I just don't do it often. But you can see that it worked.

The shadows once again moved in laughter, making him groan in frustration before taking another sip of his coffee. Yeah, he could definitely get used to this every day.

[kny-agere]

Hello! If at all possible, could you write a drabble about Little Daki and Little Akaza having a playdate together with a Cg Gyutaro and Cg Douma looking after them? I love to imagine that they have little playdates together and get into mischief while little! ^^ I think that it's adorable! (As always 0% pressure!)

-Kerfuffle :3

Hehe this was soooo fun to write, I think Daki definitely gets away with a lot less than Akaza does (Sorry Douma but I think Gyutaro has more experience in this area) and it shows here

★彡☆彡★彡

“Oh I feel like a grandpa now!” Douma claps his hands cheerfully at the sight of Akaza and Daki… Playing isn’t quite the right word when Daki is just bossing the elder around, but if it’s what suits the duo then it’s an appropriate exchange.

Gyutaro’s frown deepens and he scratches his neck. “How’re you a grandpa? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten anybody pregnant.” His voice is dry and humorless. All of his attention is focused on his sister.

“Hm? Oh well if I turned you into a demon that makes me like you’re papa. And even though Daki’s you’re sister she’s more like your baby too sometimes. That’d make me a proud grandfather right? It’s like we’re a big family!” His tone is a strange mix of real mirth and the faux cheery tone he puts over everything he says. It’s always hard to tell what the man is really think.

“You shouldn’t say dumb sh- stuff like that. Learn to shut your mouth sometimes.”

“Awww, see it’s like you’re going through a rebellious phase!”

Gyutaro huffs but doesn’t have any response other than that. He’s not the easiest to talk to, but Douma generally gets along with him the most compared to anyone else (subtracting his own sister of course).

So in the silence he turns his attention back to the children. They’re playing dolls or something similar. Every few moments Akaza’s eyes dart nervously around. He can barely look at Douma, and ignores Gyutaro completely. The blonde doesn’t understand the embarrassment. It’s not as if the other’s are in a position to judge either.

Regardless the feeling leaves Akaza quieter than usual. He moves the figures around aimlessly. Every few moments he murmurs small little phrases to contribute to the pretend show.

Daki however is much louder. Her bratty and demanding nature remains constant throughout all her forms. She was happy however with her partner’s obedience. Even when the girl had demanded all the “prettiest and bestest” dolls Akaza hadn’t even blinked. All the figures where of fine quality in the end, worth a pretty penny that Douma had gladly paid. The dolls where mostly women with fine dresses and beautiful painted faces. That drove their game of pretend towards princesses and other royals that gossiped amongst each other.

“Oh lady akane, my husband is still fighting in the war! I miss him so much.” Daki moves her doll around as she creates the narrative.

Akaza smiles, fingers hanging in between his lips. His own figure stays mostly silent as he does. Instead he just hums as he manipulates the head of the doll.

Daki pauses her movements. “And now pretend that, pretend you’re actually in love with me and you’ll confess your feelings!” She giggles at the idea of it.

Still intent on keeping his mouth shut Akaza simply bobbles the head around and presses its face against the one in Daki’s hand. Both demons laugh at the imitation of a kiss.

“Lemme see yours!” She swipes the doll from his hand before Akaza can object. He doesn’t try to steal it back, but a frown graces his features.

Before anyone in the room can even react Daki places the two figures in a lewd position. She squeals with loud joy before Gyutaro snatches the toys from her hands.

“We don’t play like that.” His voice is commanding as he towers over the girl.

Douma is quick to approach the scene too. He scoops up his boy, who had partially covered his face at the realization of what Daki was trying to portray. “It was a little funny!” Gyutaro’s grimace deepens as he shoots the elder a threatening look. “Oh but I suppose not very appropriate. Perhaps it’s best we go our separate ways for now.”

“Yea yea, sounds great.” Gyutaro holds his sister, who is pleading to keep playing.

“Please Nii-chan I won’t do it again! I’m sorry ok.” Her hands tug at his hair as she tries to slip out of his grasp. “I was just de-depict-ting a proper narratorive.” Daki pauses her begging to carefully pronounce the words.

“You can be sorry at home.”

“Nooo! I wanna keep playing.”

Their conversation fades to background noise as Douma travels further down the hallway. “Did you have fun sweet boy?” He lightly bounces the demon in his arms.

Akaza giggles softly and wraps himself tighter around Douma. “Uh-huh.”

“Good, how about we set up another playdate? Maybe after Daki has learned her lesson.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you listening baby?”

A finger pops out of Akaza’s mouth. “Yes! I wanna play again.”

“Alright, you can lay you head back down. I know you must be tired.”

Soft pink hair tickles Douma’s neck as the boy searches for a more comfortable position. He’s sure by the time they get home Akaza will be fast asleep.

★彡☆彡★彡

[callsign-phoenix]

I wrote this for a lovely anon, I hope you like it!

It is a part two to this Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x female!reader imagine.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

Warnings: cursing

Life with Maverick was quite honestly heaven on earth.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had felt this good in anyone else’s company, but if it was up to you you would have only ever stayed by Maverick’s side.

He was charming, funny, daring, loving and so intensely into every moment you shared it was like coming off from a high whenever he had to leave your side.

Nevertheless, the two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret because your dad would freak out and because Maverick wanted to keep being able to love you, just being the two of you.

You liked it the way it was, it was something beautiful you kept just for yourself, and you felt like you deserved that beauty.

At functions you found the right times to sneak away and Maverick had found the perfect way to sneak into your window at night so none of your family members would notice.

Studying from home had both ups and downs, but you liked sneaking your boyfriend in through your window despite the anxiety.

Maverick was funny and easy to talk to and he was so good in bed, the way he touched you spoke of a lot of practice and experience, but you managed not to let that bother you.

You were always so happy in his embrace after your initial gentle greeting and love making that it was the only time you relaxed completely, your head on his chest and your naked legs intertwined lazily.

It was usually time for casual and quiet conversation, you’d tell each other about your day and what you had experienced when your bedroom door opened and you heard your sister’s voice in the doorway.

“Hey, I know it’s late and I don’t want to bother you but have you seen my…,” Penny peeked her head into your room sheepishly but she fell silent the second she found the man in your bed, her eyes widening.

You were absolutely shocked but you were glad it had been your sister walking in and not your parents, because you knew your father would have killed you.

You sat up quickly, pulling the sheets along with you to cover your naked chest and Pete followed your lead, struggling to pull on his boxers as his eyes were locked on Penny’s.

“Pen, I’m so sorry, but this is exactly what it looks like,” you tried to explain yourself, but your sister didn’t even bat an eye at you.

“Pete?” She asked instead, and confusion began to flood your face.

You knew that they could have met at any Naval function but you also knew Penny and Maverick, and you and Mav had met the exact same way and had ended up in bed as well.

With Maverick’s track record it wasn’t far-fetched that he could have slept with your sister, which shocked and angered you immensely.

You pulled something over your head and up your legs to cover yourself as you heard Maverick exclaim a simple ‘hi, Penny’ that sounded like he was grinning.

You found that stupid smile on his face and your eyelids fluttered with hurt as you sat back down on your bed in a wave of dizziness.

Penny’s face showed nothing but regret as she looked from Maverick to you, and it was painfully obvious that she wasn’t happy about the developments.

“You know each other?” You asked no one in particular, but Penny chose the easy way out.

“I’ll let you two talk,” she whispered before slipping outside and closing the door, leaving the two of you in a rather awkward silence.

“Did you sleep with my sister too?” You asked in a very low voice, your eyes barely daring to look up from the hands you had placed in your lap, but you managed to look at him after a while.

Maverick nodded as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but the hint of reluctance on his face showed that he knew you weren’t feeling well.

“I didn’t think it was important,” he answered, as if that would have solved anything.

“You didn’t think it was important? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” You questioned him, but he just shook his head.

“You slept with my fucking sister!” You exclaimed rather loudly, and Maverick reacted by trying to silence you, his eyes darting to the door to make sure your parents hadn’t heard.

The fact that that was more important to him than your emotional well-being made anger bubble up inside you.

You took a few seconds to think as a thousand thoughts ran through your head.

All you could focus on was that he had a lot of experience that you didn’t, and that just let a wall of doubts build up that was about to be broken down by your anger.

“Pete, she called you Pete,” she whispered, and his face fell slowly.

“That’s my name. Baby, you know that’s my name, I’ve told you that,” he answered quickly, but your brain pulled a blank for a few seconds, not even listening to what he was saying.

“No one calls you Pete,” you whispered, and he nodded.

Goose had previously called him Pete and Penny also knew him from when he was still in flight school, but the fact that him and Penny went way back would have not sat well with you in that moment so he decided against telling you.

“I prefer Maverick,” he answered swiftly, avoiding that bullet for another time.

There was another moment of silence and Maverick tried to approach you, but you vehemently shook your head and he stopped.

“Do you touch me the same way you touched her?” You asked, your eyes finding his and anger boiling inside you, making your breath hitch.

“Is that why you’re so good in bed, because we’re so similar?” You continued asking, but Maverick simply furrowed his brows in a way of denial.

He didn’t say anything, which left you to form another thought that seemed to scream at you inside your head.

“Am I only your replacement because you couldn’t have her?” You finally voiced your fear, but Maverick continued his approach to you.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed next to you only clad in his boxers while you wore his shirt, both your hair in disarray and both of you seeming extremely agitated.

“No, baby, no, definitely not,” he tried to assure you, one hand skimming over your cheek before he let it fall behind you, resting his other hand on your thigh.

“I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t want to be, I really care for you, baby,” he tried to apologize, and it worked in a way.

You definitely felt reassured but that only made your feelings of anger reappear, which meant that rage began to pool into your heart and it seemed like your field of vision grew smaller and a tint of red too.

“Are you fucking serious, Pete?” You asked, stressing your use of his first name, and he quickly pulled his hand away from the place on your thigh it had been sitting on.

“We’ve been going out for months and you haven’t found the time to tell me that you fucked my sister before getting to know me?” You continued, and he winced at the words you chose.

You were usually much kinder and definitely not as angry, which made Maverick fear for getting a visit from your dad.

“How many times did you sleep with her?” You asked, your voice ice cold and void of emotion.

Maverick felt his heart beat faster at the question because he couldn’t lie to you, but he also knew that you wouldn’t like the answer.

But he actually liked you, he didn’t want to mess it up.

“I… more times than I’d like to admit,” he answered in defeat, and his honest answer surprised you.

Nevertheless it also angered you further.

“Get the fuck out of my house,” you told him, getting up from your seat only to collect his pants, socks and shoes from the mess on the ground and throw it at him.

He caught all of it more or less effortlessly, which only convinced you that he had experience with that as well.

His face was blank and not understanding but you didn’t want him to see you cry, so you forced him towards your window without even giving him a chance to dress.

“Out, get the fuck out,” you repeated angrily, but Maverick stood his ground.

He turned to face you, whispering your name as if he wanted to say something, but you didn’t give him the chance.

“Out,” you repeated rather loudly, and he winced at that.

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell climbed out of your window and jumped down onto the ground, hurrying to put on everything but the shirt you were still wearing.

You turned around to rush to your bed and break down onto it, your anger and sadness jolting your body in sobs that were accompanied by the biggest tears you had cried in a long time.

You were absolutely devastated in the moment because you knew you had to tell him that that behavior was unacceptable.

Maverick was inexperienced when it came to being in a relationship.

That meant you had to show him the ropes, and despite your need to be held by him you knew you had to stay strong in the moment, because you needed to make a point.

Your relationship with Maverick wasn’t over, but you didn’t let him treat you lightly.

You were serious, and he had known what that felt like too.

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

[itsclydebitches]

With all the discussion of CRWBY/RT's apparent obsession with heroic sacrifices in RWBY as of late (and how poorly framed/managed they are), a part of me can't help but wonder if they're trying to chase the high of Epsilon/Church's sacrifice at the end of Red VS Blue Season 13. (Here's the scene in question for context: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M5jM_mrOqec) Which I will admit, I found to be a pretty good scene as a sendoff to the character and at the time thought it was a nice way to end the show. Though RT ended up souring it by continuing on with season 15.

Thank you for the clip! I obviously have no idea what RT's motivations might be regarding the prevalence of these sacrifices - is it "chasing the high" or is RvB just early evidence of a writing trend? - but regardless, I like this a whole lot more than what RWBY's been giving us. I think this has a nice balance between the somber, emotional soundtrack and the funny one-liners that sound like they're core summaries of many character's personalities (unlike Weiss who suddenly becomes the comic relief). I like that Church (if I'm right about how is speaking there) doesn't actually end with "...I hate you all the least!" but has his actual goodbye speech once he's privately recording. I'm missing a ton of the nuances of his argument, but I like that it at least comes across as thought out: he's reassuring the AI voice that he's sure about this, he lays out how the sacrifice will hopefully help the others survive, he acknowledges that he's only here in the first place because of them, and there's some element of being "held back" that this sacrifice would do away with. Finally, I LOVE the self-referential acknowledgement that heroes don't get to see if their sacrifice was worth it (which is one of the problems with having Penny die and then chat with Winter, or Ruby drinking the tea and then waking up fine in the tree: suicide presented as just a journey where you don't really lose your connection to life), ending with the blank screen. We don't get to know if they win either! We are emotionally connected to Church in this moment, experiencing the story through him, and like him we don't get the reassurance of knowing whether the others survived! (Well, until you hit Season 14, apparently lol). You've just gotta have faith that the sacrifice meant something - "aint that a bitch."

And all this, I want to stress, is coming from someone who has NEVER watched more than like two episodes of RvB,which I've now totally forgotten. This scene is the entirety of my context... and I enjoyed it. Which I bring up largely because of the Moistcritikal drama. Personally, I take issue with the idea that someone's negative opinion of a clip is unreliable because they haven't seen the rest of the show. Does that mean then that my enjoyment is unreliable too? Most RWBY fans wouldn't say so because, after all, why would you get mad about others agreeing with you? They're only up in arms because he was critical of the show, rather than praising it, despite both situations stemming from the same ignorance. To say nothing of the fact that criticism is dismissed even when fans (like me) do keep up with the canon, a ton of the side material, are immersed in fandom, and are present for every major development. Doing everything "right," apparently, still doesn't earn you any trust in your opinion, so... why was all that necessary again?

I do believe that context (for obvious reasons) can severely skew an opinion one way or another. For example, I recently saw a new Magnus Archives listener saying that although they were loving the podcast, it really took them out of it to try and believe that all these people just happened to write down perfectly composed, poetic narratives about their experiences. I so wanted to say that there was a reason for this. That, eventually, the podcast would reveal a canonical explanation for how this occurs, taking what's originally a huge aspect of suspension of disbelief - arguably to the point of annoyance - and reframing it as a major worldbuilding detail that enhances the enjoyment instead of detracting from it. So there are obviously cases like that, just like I might enjoy the RvB scene more or less depending on my experience with the rest of the show... but that doesn't mean my enjoyment now is wrong? Nor is Moistcritikal's lack of enjoyment wrong. I find the 'Oh, you just don't understand and you're willingness to speak on the topic without every scrap of information is insulting' to be, itself, a pretty insulting response. This desire to invalidate someone's honest opinion of what they've been given is an issue on its own, but beyond that, a good show should be able to read well even without the rest of the context. Hasn't anyone ever analyzed a clip of a show in school that they enjoyed? Gotten excited over an ambiguous moment in a trailer? Decided to watch something based on just a video/GIF-set here on tumblr with no other info? Good media is good even when you don't fully know what's going on and bad media will read badly without the distraction of already being emotionally connected to the show. Toss in the fact that people can pick up a fair bit of context from the scenes themselves and that Moistcritikal had fans in the chat explaining the situation. People can still look at a clip and think the dialogue is badly written, or the acting shoddy, or the animation poor, or the whole conflict - once explanations are given - to be pretty badly conveyed. None of this takes an intimate knowledge of nine Volumes to develop an opinion on. Moistcritikal might miss character dynamic details like Yang standing in front of a passive Blake to 'protect' her from her little sister, but he can still respond to the general gist of the situation and the ways in which it was executed.

[spyral-out-keep-going]

Ok Hozier concert thoughts in order of the set list but also no order for the random things I remember

Awesome venue (Blossom Amphitheater). If I lived closer I’d go to so many shows. Also we drove through a little bit of the Cuyahoga National Park on our way out. It was a dark forest but would love to go back someday

Cool set! It looked like a scarf kinda, then the lighting and visuals changed it and the “scarf fringe” became the roots underground! Which like makes way more sense - it’s related to the album duh (yes I did have an edible before the show)

Opener Joy Oladokun was fantastic! Will be listening to more of her music. (Also the way she left the stage was so cool. The guitar sounded on all atmospheric and it was just neat)

Omg Hozier and band started off with De Selby pt 1 & 2 and it was magical. Like. It sounds like the album. But better even??

Also we stood up when he came out and didn’t sit down once - the energy was up!

Jackie & Wilson, From Eden - yes yes love them!

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene was another one that somehow? Was better live

Dinner and Diatribes - loved the visuals they had on the screen at the back of the main stage and off to the sides. (I posted a short clip of this one)

Speaking of I didn’t record any whole song, just tried to catch all the talking bits between songs. He named all kinds of crew (and individual thank yous. Very nice) and at the end we all sang happy birthday to one of his crew team members!

There one bit where Hozier was like if you’re down there then who’s up here on stage? And the screen shows a dude with Hozier-like hair and beard got the crowd laughing - funny guy!

Next song was Francesca - 10/10 beautiful one of my favorites I love it

It Will Come Back - excellent dirty guitar and the lows he gets to make me shiver

Like Real People Do - so pretty

I, Carion (Icarian) - SO HAPPY he played this I wanted to cry

Abstract (Psychopomp) - he introduced it by of course mentioning the animal thdid mention before they started playing that “it ends on a happy note because it died a very quick death. It was fine. It didn’t suffer. Too long. It didn’t suffer too long. Happy Tuesday” (And that is a direct quote because I got that on video). Like… Sir 😆 Happy Tuesday I guess lol

Would That I - chilling the vibe a bit more - but got the crowd harmonizing which sounded so great

Just to get the crowd hype for Too Sweet!

Almost (Sweet Music) - beautiful vibes again

Eat Your Young - his voice hitting those high notes!

And of course Take Me to Church - powerful beautiful and got the progress flag out at the end 💗

They all went off stage but he came back alone (now hair up in a ponytail!) for an acoustic Cherry Wine performance. Gorgeous

Unknown - I will sha la la anytime anywhere

Nina Cried Power - another one of my favorites! And he introduced it by of course mentioning Ms. Mavis Staples and how big and small ways we can make a difference each day, and segued into the power of protest and what it’s achieved and then basically repeated what he said at Lolla (& maybe other shows?) about calling for ceasefire and a free Palestine and contacting our representatives. Like over 5 minutes and well worth it because it needs to be said. and acted upon.

Last one was Work Song. Just a perfect end.

So many kudos to the band

And seriously a tornado touched down in the area so the venue told everyone to shelter in our cars so my friend and I watched the clouds for a funnel and heard the sirens a few times and thankfully it passed and the show went on! Just a 30 minute delay of the gate opening. I know everyone there was manifesting the end to the severe weather lol

I will definitely try to see him live again. 100% with every penny! Oh yeah and Hozier thanked everyone and recognized the money spent to see him and other artists.

Very classy guy. Quality

[yinyangp]

Vocaloid 6 Voicebank Thoughts

Less formal than a "review" but I wanted to share my thoughts on the V6 banks I have and have used. Ngl it's primarily positive, and y'all may have noticed I tend to use V6 more than I use SynthV just because I have more fun with Vocaloid. These are more or less gonna be in order by when I used them. I also might add to this post if/when I acquire new banks. Anyways here goes:

Allen

I really enjoy the tone of his bank, it's a sort of RnB/trap/rap-esque voice and that's not common in vocal synths so I appreciate it

English is really clear and the Japanese accent is also passable - mandarin isn't so good but I also barely use mandarin so

Goes falsetto when he goes high which in the right song goes hard

Probably my favorite of the four "default" banks

Sarah

A nice, solid, more mature sounding voice with is always welcome imo

Dunno if I've ever finished a whole song with her in english but I like her in Japanese just as much tbh

Once again, the mandarin needs work. I'm wondering if that's not just all of the V6 banks that were recorded for english

Unfortunately her voice tends to lose power in the higher range which makes her hard to use sometimes (but, most AI banks, not even just vocaloid ones, also have this issue.)

Tied with Haruka for second favorite default bank

Haruka

She kinda leans into the "cute little girl" voicetype but, it's still unique and has a rich quality to it

Once again I've never used her in full for english but I can't complain about her english really, I just have other banks I'd rather use for english??

Her mandarin is pretty good actually! I've noticed banks recorded for japanese handle mandarin better.

She also loses power when she goes high but it's less noticeable than with Sarah, since Haruka's less powerful to begin with

As stated previously, she's tied with Sarah for second place in the "default bank" category

Akito

So mid it hurts

Seriously he's not bad but he is the most Generic Male Voice on the market

Literally just "the Kaito we have at home"

I almost forgot he even existed and went straight to the next vocal on my list before realizing my mistake

I pretty much only ever use him for backing vocals, like octave down harmonies that are out of the main singer's range

Gumi AI

Gumi is love, Gumi is life,

Far higher quality than any of the default banks, like not even in the same league. Literally she's better in every conceivable way

The english accent is a little worse than the V3 english bank but by far more natural sounding, so it makes up the difference

Her mandarin is decent. Not much else to say, and I think Haruka's might be a little bit better???

Pretty much the only bad thing is that once again, the bank loses power in the higher register and that's hard to compensate for.

Regardless, easily my favorite voice for the engine. Period. Every time I tune her I have a blast.

Fuiro

I bought her while she was on sale and she was worth every penny

Seriously she sounds like a youtaite and I love love love her mature warm tone

Her english is also very clear and natural sounding. I've used her more in english than in japanese (which is funny since she was recorded for JPN lol)

In general, she feels more expressive than the others because her tone varies a lot depending on pitch

With that said, her range feels a lot more limited - she switches into falsetto almost immediately upon hitting C4 (C5 in UTAU) but she also can't go too far below C3 (C4 in UTAU) without starting to sound robotic

Even so, she's probably my second favorite V6 bank after Gumi

Una (Spicy)

Finally finally finally a voicebank that doesn't lose the powerful tone in the upper register

Her english is good but it's the only one where I've had to use extensive phoneme editing like you would in a V3/V4 non-native bank

Sometimes the english phonemes sound a little weird, especially [e], [I], and [V]

Still, it's the Una Spicy tone we all know and love

The styles Una comes with kinda suck actually, Gumi and Fuiro both had style presets that make them sound great but idk what's up with Una's

I still love her tho, especially having a powerful vocal that can also go high and stay powerful

Una (Sugar)

Soft, but still has Una's solid, cutesy tone

English is a bit better than Spicy's but still not great (what happened here? the others cross language synth just fine)

The Sugar styles are also better than Spicy's styles but still not great (again not sure what happened there)

Still, the tone is great and it's very fun to tune

DISCLAIMER: I literally got Una's banks yesterday so my opinions on them are not fully formed.

[accessoriespolh]

Inpector gadget. artoon

#INPECTOR GADGET. ARTOON MOVIE#

#INPECTOR GADGET. ARTOON SERIES#

#INPECTOR GADGET. ARTOON TV#

Inspector Gadget’s Brain also took part in the sequel, which was a good thing.

#INPECTOR GADGET. ARTOON SERIES#

Adams, of course, voiced Gadget in the original series and its various spinoffs, which were somewhat of a parody of his role as the main character in Get Smart, which was itself a parody of spy movies. In a end-credits cameo, Don Adams provides the voice of Brain as he talks to Penny via a collar walkie talkie. In other canine moments, during a dream sequence Brown flings a Chihuahua across a street (and then catches it safely), and a car theft is accomplished in front of a vet clinic. (Possibly Skip in My Dog Skip helped with this, too.) He contributes to the film by comforting various characters when they need it and stealing a minion’s underwear during the final fight sequence. On the other hand, there is Brain, Penny’s Beagle, who is the reason I fell in love with the breed. Penny is more like Gadget’s mother than his pre-teen niece, which is a little odd,

#INPECTOR GADGET. ARTOON MOVIE#

Rupert Everett’s Claw was nothing like the cartoon version, instead being an unhinged creeper, and Gadget himself harassed Brenda throughout the movie as well. (Dabney Coleman’s line about a cross between Columbo and a Nintendo is about the best quote.)

#INPECTOR GADGET. ARTOON TV#

There are a disconcerting amount of random spoof attempts ranging from Mission: Impossible to Godzilla and the 1960’s Batman TV series, some of which work better than others. While I loved it as a kid (had the complete McDonald’s Happy Meal set of tie-in toys), even then I knew it was terrible, and a recent rewatch really confirmed this opinion.Īfter security guard John Brown is killed during a robbery, he is rebuilt and resurrected as a cyborg, sworn into the Riverton Police Department as a PR stunt, and stumbles his way through finding the guy who killed him, a rich businessman named Sanford Scolex (AKA Dr. If you don’t remember it (or blocked it out of your memory), Inspector Gadget is a 1999 Disney comedy that moves at a frantic pace (80 minutes, 12 of which are credits), starring Matthew Broderick (WarGames, Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, 1998 Godzilla ) as the clueless eponymous cyborg police officer, Michelle Trachtenberg as his niece Penny, Joely Fisher as would-be love interest Brenda Bradford and comedian DL Hughley as the voice of his car, the Gadgetmobile. While fans of the 1980’s syndicated cartoon series may disagree, it seems kind of obvious. Inspector Gadget’s Brain is without question the best part of the movies. Inspector Gadget’s Brain was the best part of the movies, easily. There's only so much we can do with our lives.By Wesley Coburn 2 years ago Follow Tweet And to anyone who was listening, don't watch it, it ain't worth it. Sigh, I think I might as well stick a DVD of the old and far better Gadget on. Well, how about the ugly and unappealing animation that looks rushed and dull? Or the fact it's the usual Canadian toon that has 2 segments nowadays in one episode which means everything is rushed? Is that fine for ya? Hold on a minute, no one's here. Okay, what if I told you that Dr Claw isn't menacing in the slightest and has an actor who overacts so much you'll pine for the days of Frank Welker? Oh and even better, what if I said he has a new sidekick who is irritating? Still not enough. What if I told you that Inspector Gadget has been turned into an annoying and bumbling fool who falls other every time just to get a cheap laugh from the audience? Will that turn ya off? No. I'll have to think of cunning ways to tell you why you shouldn't watch it. But no, I'm not here to praise the original like some happy type of guy who just had his first taste of coffee, I'm here to say that this so-called "updated" version ain't worth your time. We all know what the original series was like, it had good animation, funny jokes and memorable characters. Boom! Did you hear that sound? Something tells me another childhood favourite has bitten the dust and has been replaced by a lifeless CG version.

[sdvharveybby]

How the Bachelors handle farm work

So, I got the inspiration of this from the parking lot of Walmart. Don’t ask- I don’t know.

Also, these are hella long but I just LOVED writing this. I really did- they all are just so cute. I hope y’all enjoy reading this!!

 Alex

Ever just wanted to move a straight up cow? Then boy do I have the man for you!!

Honestly, because Alex trains so much he has the stamina and strength of a bull. He will help you move anything you need him to for as long as you need him too. Hay bales? He’s got it. You need help hoeing, planting seeds, and watering? Literally no problem. Because he hasn’t been so big on book learning- he loves learning through his physical strength. He loves when you teach him the basics of crop growing and how to properly take care of animals, and once you teach him- you can just let him run wild. He’ll then realize how physically stressing your job is and will soon put ‘working on the farm’ as part of his regiment. (Plus seeing him chop down trees shirtless isn’t such a bad sight, heh heh.)

You soon realize that he just loves all the cows. He moo’s back to tease them almost all the time, but genuinely enjoys feeding them and giving them pats on the head. His favorite way of showing off to you is going, “Hey, honey!” when you turn around, you’re always surprised to see him just holding a calf in his arms. His beaming smile makes your heart flutter.

Alex is always willingly to help you out on the farm in any way he can- sometimes you don’t know if it’s because he loves you or it’s because he thinks of it as training. With time though, you see that it’s actually both. He loves when you ask him for help because he enjoys knowing that you depend on him too and showing off his muscles in some way just makes him smile. He loves making you laugh, so while you take care of the chickens- he likes to make funny voices for the cows.

His constant help on the farm and his drive to make you laugh, has you loving him even more.

Sam

Sam doesn’t know a whole lot about farming, but he absolutely loves working with the animals. I’d imagine goats would be his favorite because they’re just so weird. I mean, he’s fascinated by the fact that they just want to eat everything in sight- soley because they can and that they don’t know any better.

Another reason Sam loves working with the animals is that once he realizes they’re safe and relatively easy to handle- he brings Vincent along to show him how to pet and take care of the animals. Sometimes you’ll see Penny, Vincent, and Jas on a field trip to the farm so that Sam can actually be a guide to them (of course Jas also gets the opportunity of showing off what she knows since she lives on a farm herself.)

There is nothing more wholesome than seeing Sam’s goofy smile when working with the kids. He loves feeling like he’s a part of the children’s lives and enjoys teaching them lifelong lessons.

Although… Seeing him fighting the goats as they try and eat his shirt is one of the funniest parts of your day. You can’t help but laugh as you watch him tell the goats to, “F*CK OFF!” (only sometimes do you actually help him.)

Sebastian

Sebastian wasn’t to keen on helping you out on the farm when you first asked for his help. “I’ll just screw things up.” He kept saying to you, but one day, as a present you give him a pure black egg with freckles on it. You tell him that it’s a very special looking chicken that’s hard to obtain, but that when it grows up it’s black. Oh man. When you told him this, he was ALL about this chicken. He placed the egg in the incubator and every single day- he would check up on it until it hatched.

The chicken and him were absolutely inseparable. You’d find him talking to himself all throughout the day until you find out that he puts the little chick in his sweatshirt pocket and literally carries it around everywhere with him. He shows off his little chick to everyone he knows- what made the chicken and him even closer was that people were just as weirded out by the chicken as they were of Sebastian. “I want to call my chicken, Midnight” He explains one day, “I actually feel like Midnight understands me as much as you do.”

Sure, Sebastian wasn’t great help with any of the other tasks on the farm, but the fact that he gives you the biggest, goofiest looking smile whenever he holds Midnight- it makes it all worth it. You’re happy that you could give Sebastian something to look forward to each and every day. It’s not long until you have a pet bed in your own house- just for Midnight, but you can’t complain. Seeing Sebastian smile as often as he had been was enough for you.

Harvey

The physical work was not Harvey’s specialty. After trying to assign him different tasks- you figured that you should let Harvey do what he wanted to do. After all, you married the goofball because you enjoyed his independent and nurturing side. (Getting patched up or given a deep tissue massage after a long day was wonderful.)

It wasn’t until you saw him grumbling over some paperwork that you asked him what he was doing, “I know I don’t have the endurance and strength to help you out on the farm, but I wanted to help you out at least in some way.” When he hands you the papers- you find out that he had been tallying every single expense made on the farm. In short, he decided he wanted to handle all of the farms finances whilst also checking crop prices each season and dating them back through the years to see what crops made the most money. “Grow potatoes in Spring, blueberries in Summer, and cranberries in the Fall.” He started, “As you can see here-“ and that’s where you lost him. Going through all the numbers made your head spin, but the fact that he did this all on his own and that he wanted to do it gave you so much relief. After a flurry of kisses- he was happy to know that he was doing a good thing.

Although you also find that when you patch up the Greenhouse- he gets excited. You find out that the expansive farm was just overwhelming to him and he didn’t want to get sunburned or heat exhaustion (which happened to you often.) You give him the territory of the Greenhouse and tell him, “Just work on it on the days you want too. You’re not required to do anything.”

You soon find it extremely touching though when he routinely presents you with flowers that he grew himself. He explains that he only wanted the Greenhouse to gift you flowers all year long.

Elliot

Elliot finds the farm relaxing and fascinating. Having only lived on the beach- the farm was an entirely new territory that he got to explore. Every day, you’d find breakfast on the table with a note on it. You understood the general theme within each note being about ‘beauty’. He’d ask you the same question every day once you finished reading it, “Do you understand it yet?” What does he mean by ‘yet’, you wonder? Sheepishly you finally understood what every single note meant, and he was writing about you the whole time. When tiny snowflakes covered your hair in the Winter when you came in in the evening to how the sunlight glistened on your skin in the Summer. You finally get that his real fascination was watching and admiring you while you worked.

That’s not to say that he didn’t help you sometimes. Working on the farm humbled him greatly and inspired him to continuously write every single day. Before you knew it- he had multiple books published that became successful, all because he had you and your farm as inspiration.

His biggest physical help on the farm was taking care of the plants that grew each of the three seasons. He loved working on the farm with you because his enjoyment was discovering the new leaves that grew over night- or that a flower would bud on the potatoes. He was routinely in awe at the new discoveries in plant life that he couldn’t give it up. You would give him a section of the farm to take care of- only come to find out that when you finished your section, he was too distracted by about the third plant that you would have to finish it for him. He would always profusely apologize about it, but you found it touching that even something as simple as a plant was just so exciting to him.

Sometimes he looked like a little kid- mouth agape and eyes sparkling when he’d see a plant, he personally took care of growing bigger and bigger. As a gift, you gave him planters so he could better watch the plant life grow. His big, sweet smiles stick in your mind, making you smile too. He was just too cute.

Shane

You expected him to basically fight you over the chicken coop. But with everything that Shane had been through- you didn’t want to stand in the way of what made him happy. He complained about his body a lot, but you will never see this man run harder just to tell you that a new chick hatched overnight. You’d find yourself just watching him as he would chase the chickens around the pen only to then get swarmed by them- knocking him in on his ass every time. You would just laugh amongst all the bawking as he’d try to free himself. Now, he never hurt a chicken, and they’ve never hurt him- they just swarm him because they want too. It’s like one minute you’re watering your crops, just to turn and hear him scream as a mass of feathers cover him. You’d wash his clothes and routinely find feathers stuck in his pockets- you decided to collect them. One day you’ll make fun of him for it or cover the entire side of his bed with them. The feather prank was all in your hands.

Now, you thought he just had an affection for the birds until you get him to talk about them. Shane knows EVERYTHING about chickens- when’s the best time to feed them, what to feed them, how much to feed them, how to take care of their feathers, how to handle an egg-bound chicken, how to care for newly hatched chicks- this man knew everything. It wasn’t long until he knew the exact spot each chicken loved to be scratched at.  He’d explain that every chicken had a different spot that they loved being petted at- it was mind boggling.

Now Jas knew a whole lot about farming, but Shane would consistently bring her to the farm. She loved it too! Jas got to see Shane genuinely happy all the time and it brought her a lot of comfort to see him mess with the chickens (and the chickens mess with him back.) She was so happy to know that Shane was content and satisfied with his life now- instead of lonely and depressed. He expressed joy, and even to Jas- Shane was teaching her new things about chickens every time she came over. She’s smart, but there were things that he shows her that blows her mind.

Through it all- you knew Shane wouldn’t be big on helping out on the farm, but you knew if you could get him in the chicken coop, it would make him undeniably happy. That was enough for you- you didn’t marry him to make him work on the farm- you married him because of his goof ball smile and nerdy talk about chickens and it made you so so happy.

It also helped that he could take a joke and that you two could tease each other- filling his side of the bed with feathers cracked you up at the twisted face he gave. He was happy, and that made you happy.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[whump-town]

Will You Take Me Home?

Here is some heart-warming fluff to make up for what I did with the cancer fic. I would do it again so I’m not sorry but I do feel remorse for hurting you

Word Count:  5055

Retired Hotch’s Birthday

The normal temperature of the room outside his nest of throw-blankets and heating pad causes goosebumps to break out over his exposed arm. He groans, not even bothering to check the caller ID as he puts his phone to his ear and answers “Aaron Hotchner”. His voice has taken on the gravel of disuse, fogged by the painkiller-induced nap he’d accidentally fallen into. If he was following his doctor’s orders, that wouldn’t happen. His body would have acclimated to the drugs and the pain wouldn’t leave him so exhausted that he can hardly keep his eyes open when it dulls to throbs. Which, he’s not aware of just yet, but is the very nature of this call: his detrimental habits.

“Sleeping beauty,” the other person greets and he leans back against the pillows behind him, rolling his eyes. The phone rustles and Hotch shakes his head as he hears the faint scratching and rustling of keys at his door. “I knocked four times,” he’s informed. “I was starting to think--” the door comes free and Hotch doesn’t even look up. “I thought I was going to find you dead in here.” The call ends and from the other side of the couch, he hears, “which, by the way, would be a hell of a thing, you know? Dead on your own birthday.” He closes his eyes but feels the cushions get pushed down, the telltale sign she’s leaning over the back of the cushion overtop him. “Speaking of which,” she beams. “Happy Birthday, old man.”

He looks up at her, taking in the full effect of mischief he could only hear before. The expressive lines of her smile spread across her face and it’s a distinct moment when all he can think about is how truly awful things had been between them at the beginning. How mean he was, really, because it wasn’t her. It was his own inability to trust. Yet, here she is before noon on his sixtieth birthday leaning over his couch and no doubt about to start a pot of coffee that she’ll consume over three-fourths of.  Suppressing the smile tugging at his own lips, he raises a more important matter at hand. Far more pressing than why it is that she’s letting herself into his home. “How long until they come?”

Retired doesn’t mean born yesterday (whatever the opposite of that is, really). He’s not around the office anymore but given Garcia’s questioning last month of his favorite cake flavor, Dave’s inquiry into his schedule for this week, and Emily’s early arrival he knows exactly what they’re doing. To her credit, Emily pretends she doesn’t and she might be more convincing if he didn’t know every tell she’s had for the last two decades.

“Who?” she asks. “How long until who comes?” He just looks at her. A stand-off, really, to see who caves first. They’re assholes so this could go on forever and if she were looking for the thrill of watching him break and she would press on. She cracks but not because he’s better at this game, just because she’s excited. “You have an hour. I’ve been sent to get you ready so you’re not a crabby old bastard when they arrive.”

He groans, sinking back into the couch and pulling his blanket up over his head. Effectively locking her out. Well... not really. She just leans further over him, not caring when he grunts tries to burrow farther away. “Come on,” she shakes his shoulders. “Aren’t you the least bit excited? Penny made you those cookies you like and Derek is bringing Hank, who, I might add, is very excited to see Hops.” And she’s only buttering him up because-- “I’m not supposed to tell you this because it’s a huge surprise but Dave left this morning to go pick up Jack. He’ll--” she can’t even get it out. He peaks out, just the top of his head so he can narrow his eyes at her. To see if she’s just fucking with him, using his feelings against him but he sees only sincerity. She grins, she knows she’s won. “So up and at ‘em old-timer! You’ve got a gaggle of people to entertain!”

Old-timer? He’s four years older than she is. That’s not what he comments on. “Gaggle?” he repeats back to her, grunting as his knees protest his standing. “Really showing your age there,” he mumbles and steps out of the way of the pillow she throws at his head. “What?” he defends. “You said it, not me.” He shakes his head, heading back to his room and leaving her to entertain herself. Which she will and he can hear her rustling around the coffee machine. Nearly surprised that she doesn’t complain he still hasn’t set up the Keurig she got him for Christmas (which they are rapidly approaching him having owned now for a year).

Though he isn’t sure how to express it anymore, he’s excited to have them here. Even if he knows that it will get overwhelming, he can’t deny that the night will end far too soon and he’ll find himself missing them all over again. But that’s not what’s important. In an hour (less than that knowing Penelope and her strict party-throwing agendas) he’ll have them all right here. Reid with his never-ending knowledge, quizzing him on the book recommendations that Hotch has been slowly working his way through. With Derek and Savannah and Hank, the latter of which can’t pronounce Hotch and it makes his heart do a funny little thing when the toddler sees him and screams in pure delight “Hops!”

JJ will pour in with Henry and it’ll be like old times watching Henry and Jack slunk off together (and they all pretend like they don’t know they’re smoking pot in the backyard). Emily and Dave force him to mediate the same four fights that they always have and then they’ll stick around long after the others have gone home to talk about whatever comes to their minds.

And Penelope.

His house is about to be flooded with baked goods and meals in containers because despite being alive as long as he has, she denies the notion he can feed himself. She’ll organize them in specific ways and each will be labeled in her neat handwriting so he can tell what’s in each. Most of them will be vegetarian because she’s worried about his cholesterol (and the environment) and a few will be spicy and chicken will make its way into a few of the dishes. He’ll thank her and kiss her cheek and she’ll remind him like she always does, that all he has to do is ask. He won’t but he does appreciate how much she cares. As smothering as it can be.

He showers quickly, giddy in a strange way to get out and be properly ready when the others arrive. Not too quickly, the last thing he needs is to bust his ass while Emily is here. She is far too comfortable with herself and with him and he knows that she will come in here if she hears him. The other thing about that woman is that she might have a distaste for constantly being touched but she can put that aside to annoy him. Which has created this weird mind-game thing he knows he’s losing when he doesn’t even notice her encroaching on his personal space.

Everything is a battle with her.

He decides to save himself the trouble of being bullied and searches through his dresser for a pair of jeans. He owns maybe two pairs of jeans both purchased forever ago and just to help him fit in with the parents at Jack’s school during field trips and soccer games. He stuck out like a sore thumb when he was a kid and he knows he still does but he won’t be the reason Jack gets weird looks. Emily had raised an eyebrow at that (why he had even divulged this to her is beyond him) so evidently it didn’t really do the trick but Dave assures him he looks fine and Garcia thinks he looks like a DILF so… he’s fairly certain that’s good. He’s not really sure what that means but he’s learned it’s better not to ask her to clarify.

Emily is fixing the couch when he comes out, the apartment filled with the scent of the coffee she’s brewed while he was showering. “You’re going to burn the house down with this thing,” she tells him. She holds up his heated blanket as it offends her. “You need to go to the doctor, there has to be something they can do.”

What surprises him isn’t her apparent anger-- with Emily, it’s a diversion. Her anger is rarely that, it’s to distract, and right now he knows he’s to perceive her anger and not the way she fears for him. The way that she can’t say “I love you” like the others but can, instead, be outraged that his body has been working against him for so many years. She’s not angry at him for needing to be tucked up in that blanket all the time, she’s afraid of a vascular issue that might kill him or that he’ll leave untreated until they’re all being reunited at the closest general hospital. Waiting for a doctor to tell them that he waited too long or that his heart can’t handle another surgery or a million other things.

He takes the blanket from her, clumsily folding it over and tucking the cords into the folds. “I have gone to the doctor,” he assures her. Not for that specifically but he did bring it up. He leaves it at that for now and she understands that means maybe later. It’s not worth getting into and he doesn’t feel like thinking about George Foyet and his knife today.

“Hey,” Emily hums, smirking at him. “Your ass looks really nice in those jeans.”

He stops dead in his tracks, frowning as he looks back at her but just as he’s about to inquire what, no doubt, awful thing she’s done to make her feel the need to compliment him to compensate for it, the apartment door opens. They both turn to the noise and Garcia steps in and freezes when she notices the two of them standing there.

Looking at the bags full of things she has in her arms and then to Emily and then to Hotch she sheepishly smiles. “Happy Birthday?”

With a sigh, having accepted this defeat a while ago, Hotch steps to help her with bags. He tries to hide his amusement but he cuts Emily a glance, three bags in his left hand and more still coming, and he can’t help it. Garcia turns back just as the smile eats its way up his face and he shakes his head. For a split second, he can see her apprehension, the way that her fear of going overboard or embarrassing herself washes over her before she carefully masks it (and to think he gets all the shit about masking). “Thank you,” he whispers so sincerely that he has to avert his eyes. Adding softly, “you know, you’re the only person who ever cares to make me celebrate it?”

Which just makes her sad. “Sir,” she whispers frowning. “You deserve the world, do you know that?”

He blushes, shaking his head, but he can’t get the words out in his shock.

“Oh,” she tsks. She stands on her toes and pulls him down so she can wrap her arms around him. “I love you.”

Emily makes a sound of disgust behind them and he’s glad for the distraction before all this undue attention gives him a heart attack. “Bleh,” Emily rolls her eyes. But she brightens when she sees the red Tupperware container holding the cookies. “Are those the--”

Garcia sees Emily zero in on them and hands them right to Hotch, holding them to his chest. “Are not for you,” she says to Emily with a nod of her head.

So Emily just looks to Hotch and he passes them to her with a shrug and weakly defends, “they’ll go stale if she doesn’t eat half of them.” They’re his birthday cookies but she’ll get her hands on them anyway. If not today then the next time she lets herself in. If not her then Reid when he gets bored and wanders over here for entertainment. If not Reid then Dave then Derek… you get the point. He’ll never finish them on his own.

Garcia lets it go because she knows that’s how he is and because she has a crapload of other things to make sure he eats. He leaves her to mess with his fridge, it’s better to let her do her thing. She’ll move his almond milk to the side door because that’s its proper place (even though he’ll move it right back) and come in about five to ten minutes to fuss with him about a specific something she notices he’s lacking. Today it will be the complete lack of breakfast foods in this house when she knows for a fact that his doctors are giving him hell about eating more than once a day.

He’ll have no excuse, never does, but she won’t give him a chance to provide it either way.

Reid arrives next and actually knocks and waits for someone to let him in, something none of the others will do. He sheepishly offers Hotch the books he’s artfully wrapped in a newspaper and Hotch ignores it for a moment to hug him. If they don’t do it now Reid will just wait in anxious anticipation for it because he knows it’s what people do and he likes being hugged by Hotch but he doesn’t know how to initiate it himself.

“The Sultan of Brunei spent $27.2 million on his 50th birthday,” Reid tells him as soon as Hotch lets him go. “Michael Jackson was there,” he says with a nod. And Hotch smiles and listens to him anxiously work his way around the point that he’s trying to make. Which is that by the standards of the Sultan of Brunei, this party will be exceptionally small and quiet… the way Hotch would want it to be.

They are still standing at the door, talking about what the act of giving a card means. The way that the stories get warped and it thrills Reid to slide the pieces of that puzzle together through-out various cultural ideals until you have them. And that America has a very strange, above-average affinity for birthday cards.

Derek nearly hits Reid with the door when he comes in. Too distracted with a squirming Hank on his hip and Savannah behind him fussing with him for not knocking. He brightens the second he places his eyes on the two of them, a face that Hank matches perfectly upon seeing his favorite people.

“Weed!” the toddler greets throwing himself into his godfather’s arms. Reid takes him happily, laughing at how tightly Hank holds onto him. He just loves that Hank never gets tired of him. He could still see Hank every day for a month and Hank would still greet him with the same enthusiasm as the first day.

Derek is kicking his shoes off, offering Savannah his hand so she can do the same when he notices Hank still excitedly talking to Reid. That’s by all means not abnormal but-- “Hey,” Derek mumbles Hank. He nods his head to Hotch who is standing watching Reid and Hank with a bright, wide smile. “Don’t you have something for Hops?”

Reid puts Hank down before the toddler can start to squirm and Hank immediately glues himself to Hotch’s leg. No one knows why it’s just what Hank likes to do but not just, in general, he only does it to Hotch. He stands for a few seconds, both arms wrapped around one of Hotch’s legs, face pressed into the material of his jeans, and Hotch stands still to allow him to do it. Hops is a nickname he has no control over, the same way that Reid doesn’t fight that he’s been “Weed” now since Jack was two and stumbling over his name.

Hotch got off easy. When Henry was younger he just sort of kept his distance from Hotch. Hank… just really loves him.

“Is that a hot wheel?” Hotch asks softly when Hank finally peels himself away enough to offer the bright toy clutched in his hands. Hank beams up at him and stretches to hold it higher, trying to get Hotch to take it. “Oh wow,” Hotch gasps, shaking his head and pretending to just be so impressed by this toy so severely dwarfed in his hand. “Do you know what colors these are?”

Derek holds his hand out for Savannah to take and guides her through the house. Moving them to the kitchen to talk with Garcia and Emily knowing that he won’t be getting his son back this afternoon. Both because Hank won’t want to leave Hotch or Reid’s side and because Hotch and Reid won’t want him to leave. The Hotwheels was entirely Hank, they spent twenty minutes finding the perfect one when all Derek needed from the store was stain. Though they all agreed to no presents because Hotch would already hate them invading his home with cake, they all got him presents.

The others all got him books because that’s what they know he likes and he really does love to receive books. They’re fun entertainment and they all say something about how not only they perceive him but also the sorts of things that they like and he… well, he loves that.

Derek built him a new bookshelf. It’s sitting in the back of the truck and he’s waiting on Will to get here to drag the thing in here. Derek had noticed two weekends ago that one of the shelves Hotch uses in the hall was bowing under the weight of the books on it so he’d made something to replace it. Thin but heavy-duty-- he’d considered all the ins and outs of the current shelf. Things he didn’t like about it until he has a higher shelf that doesn’t stick out so obscenely.

Which doesn’t matter, really, Hotch will love it either way.

Hank keeps “Hops” distracted while the others pull dinner together. Emily is set to ice the cake but she’s awful and she’s sent to sit in the living room with the other three. Hotch is sitting in the recliner, Hank sitting on his knees and telling him about what he did in preschool this week while Reid pokes through the bookshelf Hotch keeps by the door.

JJ knocks as she comes in but still lets herself in. Henry is bummed to see Jack isn’t here yet but he’s quickly distracted and swept right back out the door to help his father and Derek move the bookshelf into the house. They don’t really need Henry’s help but it’s an effective way to ensure Hotch doesn’t try to help. Not because he can’t but because… he’s old and they don’t want to break him.

They’re just buying time, anyway, until Jack and Dave get here.

With them comes the party…

Hotch only puts Hank down to hug Jack, biting down his tears when he realizes that his son now stands just as tall as he is. Probably bound to be taller. He’s grown out his blonde hair in college and just as Hotch is opening his mouth to ask about school, how seeking out that Master’s Degree is treating him, he spots--

“A puppy!” Hank shouts.

Jack smiles timidly, stepping back to show his father the dog still held back by Dave’s hold on her collar. “Her name is Scout!” Jack kneels down, beaming up at his father while the thrilled puppy licks his face. “Do you get it?”

Oh, he gets it alright. Emily had snitched him out two weeks ago (to his own son, of all people) and admitted she was a little worried. He still doesn’t think there was ground for her fears. It’s not abnormal for him to shut himself out and if his therapist doesn’t think he’s any crazier than normal then that should mean he’s fine. At least, that’s how Hotch feels about it. That’s ignoring the way that everyone else feels. Which is that he’s visibly more on the edge and jumpy. That he gets irritated in public spaces and his anxiety is getting worse despite starting therapy and medicine he swears is helping.

Jack had done his best to get through to his father but sometimes Hotch makes those conversations like talking to a brick wall. That conversation had ended rather badly, honestly. Jack had yelled, shouting mindlessly that he’s twenty-five and he’s too young to have to be taking care of Hotch like this. Too young to have to fear that each day he’ll receive that phone call and the crazy thing is that Jack wouldn’t even be surprised-- everything about Hotch’s life is damning proof to the fact that he acts impulsively, reckless, and without care to his own well-being.

Jack had called later and he’d apologized, they both had. It had been careless on Jack’s behalf, Jessica had explained to him at sixteen some delicate things about his father. He’d come to understand just what it means for everyone around Hotch to love him. The way that his mother had tried to stifle that urge in his father and Jessica and Dave and Emily and Derek and everyone who has ever loved a man like Aaron Hotchner has tried to walk him back off that ledge. But it’s as if he was born there and you can move him but you can’t take that fundamental calling away. Can’t wash his darkness away.

Jack had spent his entire childhood likening the characters around him to his father, just pulling at strings to understand the man. Sometimes he’d earn himself a smile and other times a grunt. He’d bring his father the books or replay scenes in movies all to just see his reactions to know if the man he sees his father as is the same one Hotch sees himself as.

Freshman year of high school they’d read To Kill A Mockingbird and he’d thought his father to be a man like Atticus Finch. In many ways, he is but he keeps coming back to that book. Until during that heavily apologetic phone call, Jack had laughed and realized his father might be a bit like Atticus Finch but he’s a Boo Radley. The recluse that always represents unwavering good.

Hence Scout.

What had driven Boo Radley from his home? Little Scout Finch.

He lets them into the house, not really sure what to say. “You know,” Hotch mumbles, shaking his head. He watches the puppy eagerly work her way around the others. Snaking between legs and nearly knocking Hank over in her excitement but the boy is around enough dogs to only laugh harder. “You could have just got me a… gym membership of something.”

Derek huffs at that and now, he’s sitting in his living room watching his closest friends snickering at his son’s clever book reference. With a sigh, he leans down and offers his hand to the puppy, frowning when her first instinct is to lick him. “Hi, Scout.”

Jack squats down, petting Scout while she continues basking in Hotch’s attention. “You don’t go to the gym, dad.” Jack rubs behind her ears, smiling when Scout doesn’t divert her attention from Hotch. She’s zeroed in on him and he’s fairly content with that. “Besides I got Scout from that program that they run in Richmond.” There’s this dog training thing they do down there that his friend actually works at. Scout failed her training-- as it turns out she’s a bit of a reject. They’d tried to start her out as a service dog but she’d been too smart for that too. Too eager.

Hotch raises an eyebrow at that, not liking the sound of what he thinks is happening. Those dogs are expensive and it’s already enough that she’s a German Shephard. “What do you mean?”

Jack glances at Dave, “well…”

Dave steps up and soothes it out. “I made some calls and Jack’s friend helped us out. Scout is a reject from two academies, a failed service dog and from the police dog academy in Richmond. So she’s too smart for them to just send anywhere.”

Great, Hotch thinks.

“It’s perfect,” Emily snickers. “Hotch loves to take care of things and now he’s essentially got a toddler again.”

“She is potty trained,” Jack offers quickly.

But Emily is right and the idea is brilliant. Hotch does like to take care of things and having Scout will prompt him to start taking walks in the morning again. It might help him implement a strict eating routine, place him in the kitchen to feed her. He won’t go do things for himself but he will take her to the dog park and sit there until she’s tired. Throw balls for her to retrieve and (what had been the killing stone) is that she’s far too smart for her own good. She’s got other training. Senses anxiety and depression and is very protective.

Hotch frowns down at Scout, she’s placed her head on his knee watching him as he takes this in. Hank is leaned up against her side, fingers trailing through her short fur, and she’s entirely unbothered by it. She’s only worried about Hotch and Hotch is worried about her. He’s never had a pet before. Jack had a goldfish he fed occasionally but… there’s no way that counts.

“Thank you,” he says softly, rubbing at his fingers anxiously and frowning when Scout smacks his hand with her nose. He sighs and puts his hand on her head, scratching like he thinks she wants. Too distracted to note what she’s effortlessly just done. Put off by her clinginess, he’s not even thinking about the curling hot ball of nerves in his stomach. His mind does wander but she nudges him again and he sighs and keeps patting her head.

Dinner goes well and Scout and Hank are glued to his sides. Hank to his left feeding him chips and Scout green beans which Hotch sees and chooses to ignore. Her immediate allegiance to him is a little strange, she’s not too bothered with Garcia or Derek no matter how hard he tries to win her over (feeding her green beans just like his son). Scout does like Hank, Henry, Jack, and Reid. She takes to them like it’s nothing. She’ll go from ignoring Derek’s attempts to get her to sit to trot right over to Reid and lay over his feet.

Hotch does enjoy that, it’s funny.

They funnel out slowly after eight. Hank has already fallen asleep in Hotch’s arms and Savannah has to wipe his tears up and shush him back to hazy contentment with the promise he’ll see Hops soon. Derek will probably be over in a day or two to make sure that the shelf is holding up well and to transfer the books and he’ll bring Hank along to distract Hotch to do it.

JJ and Will trickle out not too long after. Henry and Jack conspire together to get Dave to take them for ice cream and he caves-- Jack promises to text him before he falls asleep to tell him where he landed for the night.

Garcia takes Reid home, won’t let him take the subway back at this hour and Hotch doesn’t even have to ask they just know to text him when they get home safe. He promises to eat the food Garcia left and she already has the date in which he should run out marked on her calendar. She’ll give him a week to bring back the Tupperware before coming over here herself and seeing what he has and hasn’t eaten.

Emily sticks around until ten. The two of them picking up meager things and she promises to come by early tomorrow and the two of them will go to PetSmart to figure out what kind of food Scout should be eating.

And before he knows it…

“I guess it’s just me and you then.” Scout tilts her head at him. “You want to… go to bed?”

He’s not really sure how the dog thing works. TV has shown him plenty of times they’re not supposed to sleep in your bed so he makes her a blanket bed of her own and marks down a dog bed on his list of things to get tomorrow at the pet store. He tells her goodnight and then blushes at how silly that sounds.

He’s in bed, changed into pajamas, and yawning into his book but he’s committed to reading a chapter every night. He hears her get up but he still jumps when his bedroom door is opened. She doesn’t wait for a command and doesn't listen to his “no” before jumping up into the bed alongside him. He’s trying to grumble, to get up but she lays right across his hips. Turning her head to look up at him and he gives up. “Only tonight,” he says.

Tonight turns into the way she sits between his legs, when they’re listening to the guy at PetSmart help them pick out food. To the way she looks up at him when he tries to estimate how big she’ll be to get her a properly sized bed. Which ultimately turns into him giving up and Emily hiding her smirk at just how whipped he already is.

Tonight turns into every night and if his nightmares stop coming as frequently because she’s laying atop him he doesn’t say anything. If he starts going out more and the team starts picking out pet friendly places to meet him for lunch or to have a coffee break then he also doesn't say anything but Scout is right there.

So… what exactly does it take to draw Aaron Hotchner away from the ghosts? A puppy.

[yesttoheaven]

I SEE YOU – chapter III

pairing – arthur fleck x female!reader

wc – 2.6k

warnings – just fluff and a little bit of angst

English is not my first language. I am getting help from google translator and he is not always a good ally, so I apologize for any typos or grammar errors.

Y/N – your name

Y/L/N – your last name

🔴 chapter one. chapter two. chapter three.

The actress looked around, enjoying the apartment where Arthur lived with his mother. The place was small, very different from what she was used to, but this simplicity was nostalgic and reminded her of her childhood; when everything seemed simple, despite the difficulties.

Unfortunately Arthur was still at work, but Penny assured her that he would be back soon and added that Y/N could wait for him. At first Brian didn't approve of this idea, considering that the actress was going to an important dinner tonight, but he should know that it’s impossible to say no to her puppy eyes. Now Brian is probably driving to Misty's house, ready to take her to Y/N's apartment, exactly as they agreed the day before. The only difference would be the absence of the actress, but this would be justified with: "She's at Angelina's." Although the plan was apparently perfect, leaving her alone with practically unknown people was worrisome. Y/N's safety was his responsibility. If something happened to her, Brian would never forgive himself, but she stated with all the letters that she would stay inside the apartment, waiting for him with Arthur and Penny. And they were not bad people.

Y/N didn't like to involve Brian in this web of lies, but Misty knew how to be stifling when she wanted to. Visiting Arthur was not illegal, but she didn't see it that way. In her conception, to be friends with Y/N Y/N/L you need to have a bank account with many zeros after the comma.

Placing her manager at the bottom of her thoughts, Y/N's eyes fell on the small table next to the couch she was on. A few magazines were spread out and a shy smile crossed her lips. She would probably never get used to it.

Noticing the young woman's interest in magazines, Penny said:

"This actress is so graceful."

"You think? I hear only bad things about her." Y/N replied, taking one of the magazines and placing it next to her face, reproducing the cover.

When the realization reached Arthur's mother, she looked at Y/N with wide eyes, thinking it was a mirage caused by the effects of the medicines she used daily. When she opened the door and found the woman on the other side, Penny didn't imagine that Y/N was Y/N Y/L/N, the same woman who is in all these magazines.

"That was my first cover... six years have passed and I'm still nervous on camera." The actress smiled, leaving the magazine with the other copies.

"You need to excuse me, I'm too old for that... I watch your movies with my son and I was unable to recognize you."

"It's all right, these photos are usually a little bit manipulated. Maybe that's why you didn't recognize me."

The conversation continued pleasantly between them. Penny Fleck didn't feel like she was talking to one of Gotham's biggest actresses; Y/N seemed to be just a nice neighbor, the one who always shows up for a visit at the end of the day. They only knew each other for a few minutes, but it didn't matter, Penny was comfortable, sharing with her a little bit of his life with Arthur, or Happy as she used to call her son. The actress considered this point intriguing, because when she met Arthur, sadness was the only thing that existed on his face like a second skin, but maybe she was just impressed.

...

Every day was exactly the same for Arthur. He went to work, spent the day spinning his sign in front of a store or visited sick children in hospitals – this was his favorite; Carnival loved to bring joy to them. The time to return home represented some relief for the clown. This meant that his co-workers would have to wait for the next day to continue making fun of him. Arthur would always be a joke for everyone.

Tired for another exhausting day at work – or just being who he is – all Arthur wanted at that moment was to relax by smoking a cigarette. Dragging himself out of the elevator, he made his way to his old apartment and took the keys out of his pocket to open the door. He warned that he was back, but his mother did not respond. Arthur suspected she was asleep, but as soon as he put his feet in the living room, his body froze.

The likelihood of them seeing each other again was one in a million, but here she was, surprising him once again. There was no plausible explanation for what he was feeling at the moment. Accelerated heart. Sweaty palms. And the most sincere smile of his entire life. Arthur was genuinely happy. Seeing the actress again was enough to erase all his problems. Y/N was like a breath of fresh air to his lungs. There was something about her, something that you notice from a long distance, but that Arthur can't put into words.

"Happy, your friend was waiting for you." Penny broke the silence, bringing them to reality again.

With a smile, Y/N stood up, running her hands over the dress she wore. She approached the man and greeted him in her soft voice:

"Hi, Arthur. How've you been?" Surprised by her own courage, she touched his shoulder and left a kiss on his cheek.

Arthur felt his cheeks turn into two tomatoes and he automatically looked at the ground, hiding a shy smile in the corner of his lips. But knowing that she was waiting for an answer, he took a deep breath, looking at her again and saying:

"Hey, I'm... I'm good. How about you?"

"I couldn’t be better. I hope I'm not bothering you, your mom said I could stay to wait for you."

"Don't say that, you never bother, dear! Now I'm going to leave you two alone so you can talk." The woman tried to get up and Arthur quickly moved to stand beside her, helping Penny back to the bedroom.

It was easy to see how much he loves his mother.

A few minutes later, Arthur was back in the living room, looking a little nervous about the situation. It was possible to state that the actress felt the same way, remembering the reason that brought her to the other side of the city. She didn't want to say anything in front of Penny, but now she could and the words were stuck in her throat.

"I don't know where to start... I'm so sorry for the way you were treated. They couldn't have done that to you, Arthur."

"How d-did you know?"

"Brian talked to the receptionist..." She said, biting her lower lip in an attempt to control herself, but that was not enough. "I'm so mad at Susan! Who does she think she is to treat you that way?"

"Don't be m-mad at her because of me... It's okay, I'm used to it." Arthur replied, trying to reassure the actress. The last thing he wanted to do was be responsible for erasing her smile, but his words made Y/N even more concerned.

"What are you saying?"

"My life is... different from yours." He murmured, shaking his shoulders as if it didn't matter, but the sad expression on his face showed just the opposite. "I d-don't want to bother you with my stupid problems. This is not worth your time."

"But I have all the time in the world to hear you. Please tell me..." Y/N insisted, still trying to understand what he meant by 'I'm used to it'.

Susan had compared Arthur to a criminal; someone dangerous. She judged him by his appearance. His actions. His somewhat confused way of speaking. No. This is not normal. This is not something that Arthur should just 'get used to'.

"C-Can I get you something to drink?" He asked, shifting the focus of the conversation in the blink of an eye. Just a few more words and he could feel the laughter in the back of his throat, begging to leave. And that was not what he wanted.

"But..." The actress tried again, but acknowledged it was time to stop. She showed one of her beautiful smiles and that was enough to warm the man's heart. "Water, please."

Following Arthur into the kitchen, she stood by the door, watching him. Arthur was not a bad person – and he wasn't a criminal either, as Susan thought. Y/N just wanted to have the opportunity to get to know him better. It was as if the man still has his face paint on; as if he were still Carnival and she desperately wanted to meet the man hiding behind the paint, but Y/N understood that invading his space was not the best way to achieve this.

"Oh, thanks!" She thanked him, holding the cup and drinking, as they walked back to the living room. Pointing to the magazines, she fired: "These magazines are old... Are you a collector or something?"

"Not exactly... It was a few months ago, this guy was throwing the magazines in the trash because nobody wanted to buy, but he sold it to me for half the price..." Arthur's eyes widened when he realized what he had said. He scratched the back of his neck, completely embarrassed, but the actress just started laughing.

"It's okay, Arthur. I like your sincerity." She added, finding the situation funny. "But tell me, what is your favorite?"

The man pointed to the third magazine without thinking twice. Unlike the others, this cover was focused only on Y/N's angelic face. She was holding a white rose; the petals of the flower touching her lips painted in bright red.

"You have the most beautiful smile I've ever seen in my life." He thought aloud, making her blush with his sincere words.

Y/N was constantly praised. Men and women. Different ages. Nationalities. Some were adorable, others completely depraved, but no one was able to make her feel what she was feeling right now.

Arthur was surprised at himself. This trust was not constant in his life, but close to her, it was as if he wanted to try. It was easy, because he was just telling the truth. Her smile was beautiful.

"So... what is this?" After a few minutes of silence, she asked, pointing again at the small table in the center of the living room.

"Oh, this is my journal!" The man picked up his journal and sat down next to her on the couch. "My therapist forced me to have one. I write my thoughts, some new jokes and other things..."

"I love jokes, but I need to confess that clowns are not my point."

"Don't you like clowns?" Arthur was not angry with her, in fact he thought it was funny. "How is this possible?"

"Don't judge me! It's nothing personal... I don't hate them completely, i just get a little nervous." Y/N started to laugh, being accompanied by him. When the laughter stopped, she said: "Now the million dollar question... What did you think of 'Midnight Seduction'? But you need to promise me that you will be honest with your criticism, right?"

The man shook his head in agreement.

"So I can start by saying that the ending was not as I expected, she died..." Arthur knew it was just a fictional death, but Y/N's flawless performance took that scene to another level. He was paralyzed by her talent. Y/N was definitely born to shine. Her filmography was rich.

"My Diana..." The actress spoke fondly about the character, remembering the day she read the script for the first time. Nobody was expecting this. "I like to imagine that she had a second chance. No prostitution. No drugs. Without HIV. And with someone by your side to love."

"This is a good ending, I like it... Rosalind was the only person who cared about her."

"Oh, did you notice?" Y/N asked, leaving the glass of water on the table. "I mentioned this in an interview, but the next day everyone was distorting my words!"

"It's just... love. What's wrong with that?"

"Unfortunately some people will never understand what love is."

Looking at Y/N and Arthur, it was possible to see that they were opposite poles. Their lives were completely different, but it was intriguing how they always found a connection. Time passed quickly, but they were still involved in a long conversation. Y/N loved to hear the man tell about his work as a clown – obviously he didn't mention the bad side. The actress told about NGOs, some trips around the globe and the preparation to play her characters. Each character was a new challenge and Arthur found it fascinating that she lived several lives in just one.

When the conversation followed a delicate path, Y/N considered changing this path, but she gave up and stood up, walking around the living room with a nostalgic smile growing on her lips. Arthur watched a few interviews, but hearing the actress speak directly to him about her childhood in Narrows was different. She lived in a simple house with her mother and brother. The situation was not easy, they did not have much money. Today her mother and brother are living in France, enjoying a wonderful life because of Y/N and her promising career. She missed them. She talked to them on the phone every day, but that was her best decision. Gotham has become a hostile, completely violent city, but it was in the middle of this violent city that her life changed...

"I was working at a restaurant in the downtown when Misty saw me in that hideous uniform..." Y/N couldn't help but laugh. "She said I was too pretty to clean shitty toilets, but cleaning shitty toilets was what puts money on the table at the end of the month... So she said she had an indecent proposal for me. I figured she would offer me a job at a nightclub... I probably would have accepted it. I was desperate to help my family, but she asked if i would like to be famous... A simple answer, "yes" and see how I look six years later. That horrible uniform became the most expensive designer dresses in the world, my mom has a beautiful house and everything she deserves, my little brother is having all the support for his studies and that girl with dreams turned into a famous actress, but..."

Unhappy.

Y/N completed in her mind, she was not strong enough to say that. She was also not ungrateful. Misty turned the girl's life into a fairy tale, but at the same time it took her life. In six years, she never had a break. Her manager was always bringing her a new job. The actress knew this was important for her career, but she didn't have time for anything other than work. She didn't have time to visit her own family. She was stuck.

Arthur heard someone knock on the door, but he kept his eyes on Y/N. The woman was in absolute silence and close to tears. Her smile was gone. She was suffering in front of him and he didn't know what to do to get this pain out of her.

"You should check this out." She murmured and at first he didn't react, but when the person knocked on the door again, Arthur stood up.

The actress took advantage of the moment to compose herself, trying to normalize her breathing, but when she heard that voice, her body just froze. The next minute the redhead appeared in the living room holding her Prada bag and looking at everything with an expression of disgust, but when she saw Y/N, she said:

"Mon cher, why didn't you tell me you wanted to visit your new friend? You know you don't have to lie to me."

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

a/n – likes and reblogs are appreciated but honestly I’d love to know what you all think of this one. really hope you enjoy it and thank you soooo much for reading ♡

[maroucia]

SanSan Russian Roulette | Summer 2021

Here they are! The results!😄 But first, here’s a reminder of the game’s rules: 

-Your prompt fill should be at least 500 words (one-shot or multi-chapter fic). You can post to the platform of your choice (AO3, FF.net, Tumblr, Twitter, etc.).

-Please tag "SanSan Russian Roulette 2021" on AO3, Tumblr, or Twitter so we can track all the wonderful fics!

-Post by 31 July—For multi-chapter fics, you’ll only need to have posted the first chapter by 31 July. You can post sooner than this. If real life crops up and your fill will be delayed, just post as soon as you can. If you’re unable to fill your prompt, please reach out to maroucia or sansanwritersguild on tumblr or @Mod or @...Maroucia… on Discord.

Now here are the prompts:

1.     To Fleurdeplume: “Dusk. Secret meetings. Stolen kiss. Sansa looks like a little bird but deep down, she's a wolf.” (From Lysae).

2.     To TheImmaculateBastard: “Inspired by a tweet, "I don't know what just happened, but I was at an animal shelter before work and a toddler walked in, pointed to me, and said “I want that one”. His mother looked at me and said “you can’t have that, that’s a grown man”” (From Lorel).

3.     To Jadedelcinismo: “Sansa is in love with Sandor and is jealous of someone in his life. Canon/AU, your choice.” (From Missy-1978).

4.     To Vermilion_Sunrise: “Sandor tucks Sansa in bed after her first day as Queen in the North.” (From Prettybadmagic).

5.     To Meganfence: “Fight, argument or other disagreement. Open to interpretation, minor or major.” (From Redbirdblackdog).

6.     To Sharkaria: “Sandor discovers he's got a good eye for photography. He fills his time taking pictures of his urban landscape, until he spies a Little Bird Muse...” (From Glamgrowl).

7.     To Missy-1978: “Kinda stole this from the Discord, but I love a forced marriage trope! Maybe Sansa got left at the altar and Sandor steps in last minute. Or a role reversal where she has to marry him to save his honor. Something fun and unexpected, can be modern or set in GOT world.” (From Atomic-bomb-shell).

8.     To TailBobSquid: “Jumanji AU - either a game that they are playing comes to life or they get sucked into a game that they are playing.” (From ReadyReaderOne).

9.     To Prettybadmagic: “Sandor is going to do it. He's going to do the kiss your best friend challenge. The friend he just happens to have been in love with since day one.” (From Islandida).

10.  To Glamgrowl: “Feel good and funny modern au where all Starks are alive and well. Sansa makes the first move on Sandor even though she's not sure she's his type as he is much older and works a blue collar job. (Please no Joffrey bashing) Cameos from other Starks would be awesome but not necessary.” (From Rayne).

11.  To Glitterswitch: “Bakery/coffee shop AU Stranger is Sandor’s service animal.” (From OrangeTabby).

12.  To LittleWolfBird: “Sandor joins the Stark family traveling circus when he sees a casting call for "freaks." Bonus points for Sansa on trapeze or tightrope.” (From GlitterGoth114).

13.  To Diverse.lorde: “Sansa playing her high harp (or other instrument) and singing a song that she wrote about/for Sandor.” (From Neleam).

14.  To Lysae : “Sandor finds out Sansa made him TikTok famous after a video of him goes viral: Sansa: hey can I have x/can we go to y? Sandor: no. Sansa, in a sweet voice: pretty please? Sandor, huffing: fine (Daddy on the end of pretty please would be lovely, but if Daddy Sandor isn’t your thing, no problem).” (From TailBobSquid).

15.  To OrangeTabby: “Mafia AU, fancy party. Dominant Sandor, thirsty Sansa Sandor in a suit, hand tattoos, creeping neck tattoo, whiskey - Sansa thirsting.” (From Meganfence).

16.  To Neleam: “Sanson Stark has always been the dutiful yet idealist second son of House Stark. Sandra Clegane is a Silent sister who has been disappointed by the very songs she once admired. A knight of the Seven and a handmaiden of the Stranger unexpectedly find comfort in each other.” (From Jadedelcinismo).

17.  To Redbirdblackdog: “Sansa gets her first tattoo by none other than the famous tattoo artist "The Hound". When she's in pain, she exhales slowly and Sandor says, "Good girl". Sexual tension ensues. (This prompt was inspired by a meme.)” (From Thequeen--in--thenorth).

18.  To Thequeen--in--thenorth: “Following a tumultuous few years, Sansa has spent every penny she's ever earned on a quiet cottage, surrounded by forest and wildlife. Not long after moving, a strange man appears in the pond near her home, half-alive and unable to remember anything about himself except his name: Sandor.” (From Suzi).

19.  To Atomic-bomb-shell: “Crust punk modern AU. Sandor is a crustie squatting in the backyard of an abandoned house. Sansa is a friendly neighbor who offers him a warm meal and access to her laundry room.” (From Diverse.lorde).

20.  To Lorel: “Sansa manages a gallery in King’s Landing. After storming out of a fight with her boyfriend, she drives off into the countryside. That’s when she sees the most amazing art behind some dusty glass in a car repair shop. Now all she has to do is convince the artist, Sandor, to do a show at her gallery.” (From Vermilion_Sunrise).

21.  To GlitterGoth114: “Walked in on. Caught in the act. "Can opened, worms everywhere." (From TheImmaculateBastard).

22.  To Islandida: “Robb comes home from war with a big loyal man behind him. Sansa never thought she'd see her brother again let alone *him*. Modern au or canon.’’  (From LittleWolfBird).

23.  To Rayne: “Modern AU: After finally getting out of an unhappy/controlling relationship with Joffrey that desecrated her self-worth, Sansa enrolls for self-defence classes with martial arts Master Clegane, who proceeds to build up her self esteem and fighting skills while the two fight their mutual attraction.” (From Fleurdeplume).

24.  To Suzi: “Prompt submission -- passionate time travel.” (From Sharkaria).

25.  To ReadyReaderOne: “Sansa leaves with the Hound that night. Their journey thru Westeros is loosely similar - Arya, Twins, etc. They find Elder Brother to help Sandor. After healing, all 3 head for Braavos, and the Dragon Queen. Lots of friendship/bonding b/t all 3; both defend Sandor from Dany. Devoted sansan, HEA!’’ (From Glitterswitch).

[missinghan]

countless skies upon me ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : fantasy; action; fluff; angst 

❖ word count : 16,5k.

❖ warnings : explicit language, mentions of blood + violence

❖ summary : when you stumble upon the notoriously skilled swordsman of Kalmburg, your heart finds itself wanting to get closer to his.

❖ a/n : this is the full extension of this blurb that I wrote impulsively after rewatching an old anime, please give swordsman minho a whole lot of love 🖤

prologue.

Minho’s wooden sword gets knocked out of his grasp, landing onto the floor with a loud series of clattering noises. The little boy widens his eyes when the tip of another wooden sword hovers over his stomach and he looks up to be met with the stoic gaze of his mentor. 

“What did I tell you yesterday, Minho?” 

“That I need to make more progress on improving my reaction time,” he answers grimly and rubs his forearm, head hanging low in shame. “I need to know the timing of the enemy like the back of my hand and use my own timing in which they don’t expect.”

His mentor retreats his sword swiftly, humming, “You got distracted, you weren’t observing my stance before I lunged at you. By narrating the enemy’s preparation, you can partially map out their movements, when and where they’re aiming for. That’s why you were taken aback and this allowed me to disarm you with little effort.”

“But master!” Minho pries stubbornly. “It’s not very fair if an opponent can’t fight with their sword, is it? A sword is supposed to be the coil of a swordsman’s strength. It’s all we’ll ever have.”

A fatherly smile dances on his mentor’s lips this time. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things,” he places a warm hand on Minho’s shoulder, speaking softly. 

“And it doesn’t matter if you still have your sword or not, fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

one.

Market stalls crowd the route, selling sacks of nuts and dried fruit, grilled meat hanging on lines after lines of roasting skewers. Powdered spices lay in rust red and dusty yellow and bright green piles spill from sacks as large as feed bags. Mixed and familiar scents cut through thin air, people bumping into each other, toes trodden on. Lovers stroll hand in hand, casually browsing whilst housewives hustle and bustle, hollering over background noises for the best price.

Minho ends up walking through the entire market before getting to work that day with an apple in his stomach, silently like a phantom, blending into the sea of people effortlessly. 

To him, work is just like another day in the market for stallholders, another pile of weapons needed to be honed and repaired for blacksmiths and another batch of bread to bake early in the morning for bakers. 

Except his job is somewhat… questionable and considerably dangerous for a guy who looks nothing like a warrior. At least that’s what he’s been told. Rather pretty-looking eyes being hidden under his long fringe, a high and slim nose bridge, sharp philtrum. He’s not that tall either and doesn’t necessarily have as many muscles as he initially wanted. But the swordsman doesn’t listen to his muscles to fight, he listens to his mind and becomes one with his blade. 

There’s no need for a shield or armor, for he thinks they’re doing nothing but getting in his way and slowing him down during combats. Minho draws his sword with no more qualms than a middle-aged lady gossiping about her irritating neighbors and slashes his enemies while thinking about what he’ll be making himself for dinner that day. There’s no joy for him in violence, but he takes extreme pride in a good clean kill. He has a reputation to maintain and that reputation keeps him safe in this world. 

A man approaches Minho from behind, leaning himself flat against the wooden bench that the swordsman has situated himself on for the past hour. The guy never makes the first move, that’s what he’s been told. 

“Twenty thousand units,” the masked client speaks up, his voice mellow and slightly muffled. “If you can bring back the head of a shadow wolf that’s been lurking around the Dunst forest these days, I’ll double the price. Silver-white fur, brown eyes. Make it quick too, and you can have sixty in total. He’s been eating up one too many of our sheeps already.”

His lips twitch subtly and he crosses his legs, keeping his tone low but clear, “Shadow wolves can’t handle the cold that well, why would one roam around a place with such tremendous decrease in temperature at night?” The sound of coins crashing against each other in the leather pouch suddenly irritates him. 

“C’mon, Black Swordsman, how would I know these things? I’m just merely a guy who’s trying to get by in life,” the man chuckles lightheartedly but Minho isn’t finding anything funny. No one ever gets the upper hands in a deal with him. “Look, I heard you’re good at your job and you sure look like you know what you’re doing so why don’t you just take the mon—“

 Minho stuffs his hands into his pocket and sighs, “Don’t think so lowly of me, I don’t accept deposits. I’ll only get my money once I’m done with the job. Meet me here tomorrow at noon, sharp. And if I don’t show up, consider locking your sheeps inside.” And with a grin through his flat lips under the mask, the cryptic client leaves Minho alone by the bench, fully satisfied with his attitude and reactions. 

The brunet gazes at the space ahead for a good ten seconds, thinking rather deeply about this before waving his hand absentmindedly, calling out to the errand boy who’s been hiding behind the ugly tree. “You can come out now, Jeongin. Did you catch any of that?” he asks without turning around. 

“Every single word,” Jeongin cancels the spell that’s been his cover during their entire conversation before stepping out, pursing his lips together. “A guy who’s trying to get by in life but still has twenty thousand to pay you beforehand? Sounds absurd to me.”

“Enough with the brainless chatters, you know what to do,” Minho pushes himself off the bench when his muscles start growing sore on the hardened surface. “If you do a good job, I’ll treat you out for dinner. Now run along, Chaeryeong is probably looking for you, don’t be late to class.”

Jeongin holds him back by the sheath of his sword, “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” 

“If anything, I might bring his head back instead of the wolf’s,” Minho replies monotonously, and Jeongin lets his hand fall to his side. The swordsman turns on his heels to see concern laced in the younger boy’s eyes, this prompts his voice to soften. “Don’t worry, a single wolf can’t hurt me,” he ruffles his hair before slipping into the crowd again, making his way towards the mountains to enter the Dunst forest. 

He wouldn’t mind dying alone, actually. It’s not like he has any regrets.

two.

The city of Kalmburg has it that no one has ever surpassed Lee Minho when it comes to the art of swordsmanship. 

“If you’re going to take on a guy who can parry a crossbow bolt with his sword as he’s contending against five other men, it’s time to re-evaluate the direction of your life—preferably while running away as fast as you can.”

The man walks up to the center of the town square every single day at the crack of dawn, his figure fully covered in a big black cloak, the hood thrown lazily over his head. All you can see is the strides he takes with his black combat boots. He almost belongs, but not quite. Kalmburg is known for its dashingly ornamental architecture — a white granite surface with serene spires can be seen from the castle at the top of the hill, soothing atmosphere and generically nice residents. Some say no beauty can be compared to its sunrise due to the dashing sight of a lake situated before the town square’s gate. 

Whereas, Lee Minho gives people a stark contrast with his dark aura and the black sword hung firmly on his back. He easily takes in everyone’s attention with a single sweep, his midnight orbs setting on nothing before he leaves as expressionless as he’s entered. His purposes and motives always remain hidden; hence the allure. Though it’s not hard to see how he’s making a good living on a daily basis. 

For one, he slays monsters; and for another, he deals with people. Outsiders might be surprised at how many units the Nobles are more than willing to pay him as long as he comes back alive, with the beast’s head limp in his hands. There were times when he’d come back covered in a sea monster’s gastric juice, other times he could barely walk back to the town because his spleens got severely damaged. But most of the time, he’d return as though he just got back from a stroll, outstretching his palm to collect the payment. 

Dealing with people is far more troublesome than those deadly creatures, Minho constantly tells himself so. It’s true, after all. Because when careless juveniles aren’t able to snatch their parents’ spare change on the dining table, they decide it’s a brilliant idea to challenge him for a duel. If they win, he’ll have to follow their request without receiving a single penny. But if things go the other way around, they will most likely come home crying for their mother. Such a nuisance. 

Today is no different. 

Moving into the morning dew is a shadow wolf. His paws kiss the earth not gracefully, but rather with evident difficulties and there’s a ray of exhaustion in that pair of bronzed eyes. The wolf has seen better days. His silver-white fur is thin and it clings to his frame like an old cloak in a gale. Even from several yards away, Minho can count each rib as they’re sticking out, he sees dejection in his movements as if he’s gonna let himself tumble to the ground any moment. 

Minho carefully inhales, pulling out a silver dart from the back of his belt. He raises his hand and aims precisely for the pine tree, just a strand of hair away from the wolf’s ear. When he exhales, the weapon comes flying past the creature before embedding itself to the wooden surface. 

The wolf whips his head towards the swordsman, locking eyes as he lets out a mere cry of pain, crimson dripping down on the side of his head. As Minho pulls his hood off of his face, slightly dubious that the creature of darkness will turn into a wisp of black smoke to take flight deeper into the forest, the wolf shakes his head before lying down on the soil, unable to coordinate his limbs. Then with his great grey head on his bloodied paws, he closes his eyes. He’s giving up on his life. 

“Something’s wrong. Shadow wolves’ blood isn’t supposed to be red,” Minho holds his breath in utter disbelief, taking a step backward. He’s got the wrong target. No, that client scammed him. 

A branch snaps. 

Minho reaches for his sword when the sound of thin air being ripped apart rings inside his eardrums, two blades coming in contact with each other and he has to squint slightly when tiny sparks of flame come to life between the weapons. Instead of looking at the raider, he quickly deflects their slash again. Hypothetically speaking, there are two possibilities: the first is that both swords are too weak to withstand the pressure of the blow, so they’ll simply break - in the exact same fashion. The second is in which case both blades are durable enough to field the contact, they will bounce right back. But his unwanted guest seems to detest him so much to the point they keep their sword grinding against his until their weapons slip against each other, creating a wave of grating shriek resonating through the woods, dust being thrown in the air. 

He stumbles backward, the sole of his shoes tearing the leaves below into bits. His vision shakes a little from the sudden attack before trying to focus on the figure before him. The first thing that he sees is the white wolf on the button of your silver-accent cloak. That’s the royal guards’ emblem.

“You,” the female voice catches him by surprise. “Lay another finger on that wolf now, I dare you.” You know all too well who this man is, and like hell you’re going to let him do what he wants just because of some cheap units.

Minho’s fully aware that his beating heart is thundering inside his chest, but he’s not sure if it’s because of the adrenaline flowing in his veins or those round eyes glaring at him from under the sunlight. He sees the grip on the hilt of your rapier being tightened and that’s when he regains his composure, taking in a deep breath. If he gave up now because of a pretty face with a deadly blade, he’d damn his reputation as a swordsman.

“Oh that wolf is all yours,” he smiles at you fakely, wiping the beads of sweat on his cheekbones away. “But you’re going to have to do better than snooping around on people.”

Minho steadies his grip on his sword, trying to keep himself together in the deafening silence, “So, who’s making the first move now?” The tonal mockery in his voice irks you and he seems to notice that too by the slight smirk tugging at his lips when the muscles on your face twitch. 

One. Breathe in.

You’re getting into your stance sideways, your blade eye level. This man doesn’t know what he’s getting himself into. 

Two. Breathe out. 

Minho isn’t letting his guard down this time despite being slightly impressed with your skills. Usually, there aren’t many girls who take up sword fighting, at least not in his hometown so he thought you’d be sort of a novice. But your dexterity is beyond incredible, he can hardly see the tip of your sword. 

Three. “I am.”

You charge first by swinging your rapier at him from above, Minho receiving the clash with the flat of his blade. He circles away from you, keeping his sword in motion while constantly changing his stances and attacks. Rapiers aren’t very suitable for slashing or slicing since the blade is so long and thin, it can only allow its owner more speed, more precise stabs and thrusts but greatly lowers their defense. So if he can just catch you off guard…

When the tip of your sword grazes just above his clothed ribs, Minho’s reflexes kick in and his blade knocks yours away almost immediately. With the bewildered look on your face as a signal, he dodges as you attempt another stab at his left ear. This causes you to trip on your heels, your balance quivering the moment his sword slashes at the button of your cloak rather than your neck. To prevent yourself from falling, you jump and do a backflip safely, breath’s fraying as the piece of clothing is completely ditched by a tree. 

“You are strong, just like the rumors,” you breathe out a stoic comment, chest heaving up and down rapidly. 

“You aren’t too bad yourself either,” Minho grins; he hasn’t felt this much eagerness to fight someone other than monsters before. In other words, he’s never faced someone who knows what they’re doing with a sword as skilled as you are. 

You cock a brow at him, confused, “Why are you smiling?” 

“I don’t know, actually,” he shakes his head and hearty waves of laughter bubble up inside his stomach. The brunet sheaths his sword with a loud ‘clunk’, walking towards you to place a warm hand on your shoulder. “But good fight, you really know how to hold a sword.”

“Wait… aren’t we going to finish this?”

Minho picks up your cloak from the ground, outstretching his palm, “You seem like a person who knows what it takes so I don’t think that’d be necessary anymore. But I’d be glad to take you on again?”

This man is baffling you, and not in a good way either. Nonetheless, you still slide your sword back into its sheath and accept his handshake. “So you’re gonna leave that wolf alone right?”

“Only if you tell me what happened to it,” Minho replies firmly, receiving a nod of approval from you. He actually seems like a solid person. Perhaps you can trust him. 

“That’s my brother, Chan.”

three.

The forest hums with life all around you. You lift your head ever so slightly when the sunlight slips through the green leaves and branches, lighting up the dirt path ahead decorated with outgrown roots and wildflowers. You gaze up at the fluffs of clouds, searching for the birds that are singing sweetly. Minho trudges on before you a couple of steps, finding the natural fragrance of the current surroundings rather soothing. It’s making his eyes droopy.

“What happened to him again?”

He stretches his limbs tiredly and yawns like there’s no tomorrow, making you scrunch your nose in disapproval. He’s not even paying attention to you. It’s been at least an hour since you’ve mounted an unconscious Chan on your horse — Noir and accepted this cryptic stranger as your guide for now. You’ve never been to this forest more than once so it’s best if you follow him—an experienced individual in order to get your brother back safely. 

You frown at him, giving the back of his neck a firm slap while your other hand is holding onto the rein. “Ow, what was that for?!” he yelps. 

“You weren’t listening, were you?” 

“Remotely,” he hums out a reply, “I didn’t sleep that well last night.” And that’s when you notice the dark spots under his eyes, the occasional tears whenever he squints his eyes under the sunlight. The job’s more draining and demanding than you thought. 

To be fair, slaying monsters and getting your hands bloodied might not be the best thing to do to a degree of morality but you really can’t judge him when you’ve only known him for a few hours. Minho’s far younger than you’d expected too. You’ve had your strolls downtown from time to time with your fellow royal guards and it’s not hard for rumors to fly. People were gasping and bouncing on the balls of their feet talking about this mysterious swordsman who’s dressed completely in black, a single one-handed sword, no shield, and no armor. They really had you thinking he was an old man in his forties who has no regrets, just trying to get by in life no matter what it takes. 

And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him charming the moment you saw that handsome face under the big cloak. 

“He was recovering from a business trip so our mage decided to treat him with a special potion,” you nibble on your bottom lip, looking over at your worn out brother sideway in concern. You’ve wrapped his injuries up with some of the cloth that you’d packed before leaving this morning, he should be fine. “I guess something went wrong; hence, he’s magically turned into a wolf, panicked and bolted out of the castle. And you know how cruel people can be sometimes…”

“Oh, sorry about that,” Minho feels a big lump in his throat when you secretly toss a glare at his direction. “I should have known something was off the moment he started bleeding red.” He shakes his head, highly disappointed in himself for mistaking Chan as a shadow wolf. His professional etiquette forbids him ever repeat the same mistake. 

You stop dead in your track, cocking your head at him in confusion, “What do you mean?” 

Wait, no, something’s wrong. Something’s terribly wrong. It can’t be that simple. “You’re still going to accept the job? I don’t think it’s worth the risk. He’s obviously setting you up.” His steps come to a halt, only a few feet away from you and before you can even tap him out of it, Minho snaps his head back, grabbing you by the shoulders. “Tell me, when you first entered the forest, did you encounter any wolves? Even just one?”

“N-No, I don’t think so,” you stutter, slightly flustered at the sudden decrease in proximity. But you soon shake the heat on your cheekbones away when he lets go of you, pacing back and forth to think hard about something. “Uhh- what are you-”

“Shh shh..”

“Did you just shush me-” The wind whistles in your ears and you stumble backward when Minho draws his sword, the blade coming in contact with something hard and deflecting it successfully. Your jaw is locked at the sight of an arrow sticking to a tree not very far off. That could have been your head instead...He just saved your life.

“Someone’s coming, take cover.”

Minho carefully tugs your horse over to a nearby slope when you hop off the main pathway, waving him over to a big tree. You both get down on one knee as the sound of armors crashing against each other grows louder, dreadful footsteps becoming more detectable. Swiftly, Minho notices the color of your bright blue cloak can easily be detected right through the bush and clicks his tongue in annoyance. He unbuttons his black coat, silently draping it over your smaller figure. For a second there, you widen your eyes at him but soon ensconcing yourself obediently under the leather fabric. 

Stepping into your vision are two familiar faces, Minho’s breath almost hitches in his throat when he realizes they’re clothed in the same blue and white uniform as yours. Both equally emitting the same hostility and mettle—as expected from the astute royal guards. 

“Hyun-”

You stagger backward when Minho clasps a firm hand over your mouth, shaking his head while you’re giving him a ‘what are you doing?’ look. The moment you manage to peel yourself away from his grip, your fellow colleagues are nowhere to be seen. They must be looking for you since you left the castle this morning without a proper announcement. “What was that about?! They’re my friends, now if you’d excuse me-”

“They aren’t the most trust-worthy people right now,” he lets out a sigh. “Think about it. They’re parts of the few people who could possibly see Chan the day before he turned into a wolf. And I’m sure the royal mage wouldn’t have such a reason to spike the commander of the guards. I don’t see how it’d benefit her if Chan was to take a break from his position. On the other hand…”

Is he accusing one of your friends of harming your brother? And for what too? A higher rank in the team? Preposterous! “Why would I trust you then, Black Swordsman?” 

Minho cringes inwardly at the nickname because good gracious, it’s so unoriginal. He’s heard about plenty of Black Swordsmen before during his wandering all over the Continent. They’re basically cryptic-looking swordsmen dressed in black...people really need to come up with more colorful monikers.

“Because I just saved your life from those people whom you called ‘friends’,” he blinks at you bluntly and the hand resting on the hilt of your sword tenses up. 

You take in a deep breath, slowly considering his deductions. It’s not like he doesn’t have a point but you don’t understand as to why Hyunjin or Changbin would want to overtake your brother, they’ve only become a part of the royal guards four years ago. You might not grow up together but after going on plenty of adventures and living in the palace, you’re practically family.

Still, humans are made of greed after all.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” you exhale. “You’re going to help me figure this out for throwing a dart at Chan’s ear. But if you even think about hurting him or make a single move that prompts me to think you’re doing something behind our back, I’m going to tear out your spine with my bare hands.”

Minho chuckles at your threatening tone, slightly scared for his life, “There’s no need to worry, miss…” You raise a brow at him when he trails off rather flusteredly. “Ma’am? No- uh, vice commander? What about lady…”

“The name’s Y/N,” you can’t help but break into a fit of giggles, amused at his sudden discomposure. Seems like this man has been chit-chatting with monsters more than having civil conversations with other human beings for his whole life. “And would you get your hands off me now? We don’t have to hide anymore.”

His chest swells a bit at that if he’s being honest.

four.

“Aren’t we supposed to be at the castle?” Minho looks at the log house before his eyes questioningly. Not that he’s complaining, he doesn’t think it’s the best idea for him to show up in front of royalties either. 

You pull off your hood and say, “No, the royal mage doesn’t live there.” After a few knocks with your knuckles on the wooden door, hurried footsteps are audible from inside the house—whoever’s in there must be dying to see you, Minho thinks. 

“Yeji, how are y—“ The door flies open and a figure thrashes against you faster than a lightning bolt, their arms wrapped around your torso, rubbing your back tenderly. You’re slightly taken aback but smile nonetheless knowing that your friend was worried sick like she’s always been. “Hello to you too, stupid.”

This prompts Minho to avert his gaze away awkwardly, the grip on Noir’s reign tightening evidently and your horse lets out a small neigh, nudging her nose against his side like she’s attempting to appease him. He murmurs a small ‘thank you’, hand reaching upward to brush through her shiny black coat. Shaking his head, he snickers at himself for talking to a horse. 

Yeji mumbles against your neck in relief, like someone’s just lifted a weight off her shoulders, “Good gracious, Y/N! Are you okay? You just left without saying anything. Changbin and Hyunjin said they couldn’t find you in the woods and Chan’s gone missing for a few days now and I got so worried I-”

“Slow down, Yeji,” you give her a firm squeeze in reassurance, chuckling. “It’s barely been a day. I did manage to find Chan, surprisingly, thanks to Minho, well, partly.”

“Who’s Minho?” she pulls away to get a good look at the man standing next to your horse, eyes widening in surprise. Dressed in black, one-handed sword, no shield, and armor. “Is that the Black Swordsman? Like the Lee Minho? He’s the real thing?”

You grit through a stiff smile, “As real as it can get.”

“Huh, and I thought he’d be some old, balding man in his forties,” Yeji comments while eyeing the swordsman up and down, making him somewhat uncomfortable. “He knows how to use a sword, is young and quite the looker too. Ohh I see what’s going on here..”

You warn her with a clap on her forearm, “You’re embarrassing me in front of that jerk.”

However, she ignores you and pushes the door open, motioning for Minho to carry Chan inside. “Move quickly now, Black Swordsman, I suppose Chan’s condition must be critical, his heartbeat and the blood flow in his veins is increasing at an alarming speed.”

Minho looks around in awe when he steps into the log house—there’s not much for him to say about the house. Furniture is self-explanatory enough: a single bed, a comfortable chair made with what seems to be one of the finest materials, a wooden shelf above the fireplace with an array of potions with different shades and colors, windows completely covered with curtains. It’s not much, but it does feel homey. He would be able to find a place like this with ease if he hadn’t wasted all of his money into information dealing and weapons trading.

“It’s nice, isn’t it? The house, I mean.” 

Yeji’s question snaps him out of it. And he looks over at the table where Chan’s lying, immobile and his bronzed eyes droopy and his breaths mingling. There’s a strange, bright light pulsing from the mage’s fingertips when she hovers her palm over Chan’s bloodied ear. Minho watches as the light flickers from a shade of white to blue, enveloping the open wound and heals it completely. He meets Yeji’s eyes before she pulls her hand back, her eyes glowing gold before turning back into a deep brown. The art of magic is truly fascinating. 

Minho manages to blurt, slightly flustered, “What?”

“You said the house’s nice, I simply agreed with that statement for it is true,” she briskly reaches for a flask, inside holds a soft green-colored liquid with golden specks floating around. 

“I didn’t say anything,” he frowns at her when she brings the rim of the flask to Chan’s mouth, pouring the odd-looking liquid down his throat. 

You speak up from behind her, arms crossed in front of your chest, “Yeji, stop reading people’s mind that’s creepy.”

“Okay I’ve got everything I need for the potion that’ll manage to turn Chan back into his human form,” Yeji tells you while rummaging through her wooden cabinets filled with bottles after bottles, grabbing some along the way as she comes back to the table. “But I’m missing some crystals. And I’m not talking about those fake ones that you see at the stores, the ones I need are way towards the north, in Drachens Hohle, on the Restless Cliffs.”

Minho hums, brows knitted together, thinking rather thoroughly about this. “Drachens Hohle is pretty far off, it might take us an entire day to get there, and then another day climbing those cliffs...we might need to pass by a store of a friend of mine to pack some stuff since I suppose you won’t be returning to the castle anytime soon. We’ll get moving as soon as possible,” he mumbles and nods to himself, satisfied with the plan. 

“Let me just make one thing clear here, Black Swordsman…”

He screws his eyes shut when air suddenly gets ripped apart, only opening them slowly after and almost flinches at the tip of a dagger pointed directly at his nose; one wrong move and his eye will be gone. Minho doesn’t know what should startle him more—the blade gleaming with a bright shade of yellow or the dark look in Yeji’s eyes when he meets them. He’s seen Chaeryeong do it many times before—incorporating magic with weapons, to better the damage output while maintaining the defensive factors. 

“If you lay just one single finger on my friend, I'm going to turn you into a mere, pathetic, little sparrow and lock you in a cage along with other pieces in my collection.”

Minho panics, feeling nauseous at the thought, “What collection?”

The mage withdraws her knife and laughs it off, “I was messing around with you, there’s no collection. Look after her for me, she can be quite clumsy sometimes.”

“The clumsy one here is you,” you mumble bitterly in the corner, extremely embarrassed for the sake of your friend. You might as well dig a hole and bury yourself in it.

Unexpectedly, the wooden door is once again pushed open, two men barging into the log house abruptly. You and Yeji remain still in your current positions while Minho touches the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it. “Don’t bother, they’re friends,” you wave at him absentmindedly before pushing yourself off the chair, walking over to the front door. 

“Y/N, where have you been?!” 

“Hello to you too, Bin.”

Changbin pushes past Hyunjin and jabs his index finger at you, eyes filled with both rage and concern. “What were you thinking? If you’re going to find Chan, we’re going with you. We’re a team and he’s our brother too! Don’t you remember? That was an irresponsible and childish action to do, you’d better have a good explanation for this. If you’re going to do something, at least act your role in the team more properly.”

Hyunjin pulls him back by the arm, shaking his head, “Changbin, stop. There’s no point in arguing. What’s most important is she’s gotten back safely.”

You eye both of your teammates back and forth, skepticism and uncertainty rising from the pit of your stomach. If what Minho said was true, then the culprit must be one of them. Or was he lying to you, trying to mess with your mind in order to achieve a personal goal of some sort? After all, you’ve only met him today yet you’ve known Changbin and Hyunjin for years now, why would you even hesitate to choose your friends over a total stranger? 

“I wasn’t alone.” Changbin pauses at your words. “He was with me, this is-”

“Lee Minho.” You gape at your friend in disbelief. 

Minho’s hand pulls away from his sword, a strange glint flashes in his eyes for a moment there. “It’s good to see you’re doing well, Changbin,” he says with difficulties, clearly not knowing how to act. 

“Why were you with her?” Hostility washes over the atmosphere when Changbin croaks out, fists clenching in anger. “Y/N, what were you doing with a scumbag like him? Haven’t you heard enough rumors about this guy? People like him only care about themselves, they’ll just end up hurting you in the end. There’s no good in letting him stick around.”

When you squint your eyes at him, Changbin takes long strides towards you, grabbing your wrist and attempting to pull you away. “Yeji, please take care of Chan for the time meaning and we’ll be heading back to the castle. Y/N can’t just leave when we need her the most.“

Minho tugs you back towards him and voices firmly, “I’m sorry, but your vice commander belongs to me now. I’ll be responsible completely for her security and escort her with all my respects. You’ll simply have to make do without her for some days.”

Changbin lunges for Minho’s collar, anguish seething inside his chest. “Insolent bastard! On what basis do you think you have the right to protect her? You might not be a threat, but you’d better stop pretending to be a hero.”

“A hero? Like you?” He shouldn’t have said that. 

Hyunjin looks rather concerned, rubbing his friend’s shoulders, “Changbin, we should go.”

“Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin,” you step in between them in disquiet, shoving Changbin away. “As vice commander of the royal guards, I will be coming with Lee Minho in the next few days on an important trip and I stand by my own decision. If my absence causes the team any trouble, I’ll be more than happy to receive the punishment from our superiors. You two are to return to the castle until further notice, continuing on with your service for the king and queen.”

“As we should,” Hyunjin smiles at you sweetly before walking over to Chan, giving the wolf a small pat on the head. In return, Chan lets out a displeased growl but it’s too small to notice. Minho watches the guard from afar, suspecting the strange glint in his eyes. He decides to say nothing about it.

“I’ve already warned you about him, don’t come crying for me when things go wrong.” With that, both of the royal guards excuse themselves out of the log house—Changbin shutting the door angrily after Hyunjin bidding you goodbye with a hug. This makes your heart heavy for not being able to trust them. You still don’t understand as to why, but you have a sudden faith in Minho, your intuitions are telling you that you should trust him. 

Softly, you ask, “You know Changbin?”

“He’s an old friend, we haven’t talked in a while,” Minho shifts uncomfortably in his chair, finding the topic rather awkward to talk about. “We didn’t get along that well back then either. Glad to see nothing has changed.”

You shouldn’t have asked him in the first place. 

five.

A wide variety of shops lined the streets of downtown Kalmburg: antique and art stalls, jewelry, and accessory shops, luxury boutiques, souvenir kiosks and stores selling leather goods, all showcasing an array of the finest wares in the area. Tourists flock to them like fireflies to a lamp, enthusiasm accentuating their features. The silvery melody of the drawl of sightseers and the strong, distinct accents of the locals drift through your ears as they amble by. 

You follow Minho to the very end of the streets with your cloak draped over Chan’s limp body. No one needs to know why there’s an unconscious wolf on the back of your horse. Alas, you both arrive in front of an old wooden door, the mahogany color fading as a result of time. He told you that he needed to pass by a friend’s place but doesn’t this place look a bit fishy-

“Five hundred units for ten bags of Philenor powder, and you’re good to go!”

A blond-haired boy peeks out from a client behind the counter. “Well if it isn’t my least favorite customer,” he voices cheerfully. 

“That’s because I’m smart enough to not buy any of your shit, Jisung,” Minho walks in with a grin, pitifully eyeing the dreadful-looking man who’s taking heavy strides out of the shop. He’ll learn someday. “Still running your greedy business as usual I see.”

The dealer named Jisung returns the sarcastic remark with a gummy smile, bumping his fist against Minho’s in a brotherly way. “Don’t speak so ill of me, will you? This greedy business is housing you,” he retorts, “I suppose you’re going to hog my place tonight as you always do, Black Swordsman?” So turns out he spends his night slumbers in this old crusty shop, no wonder people think he sleeps in the woods since they’ve never run into him outside of the town square before.  

“Actually, I won’t be in town for tonight,” Minho’s answer catches Jisung off guard. “I’m heading north, to the Restless Cliffs.”

“Another life-risking business trip huh. You’re going to need warm clothes, some supplement, and probably some medicine too,” Jisung hums to himself. “Hey, Felix! Get your butt over here and sharpen a sword!”

You detach your rapier from your belt and take a few steps forward before placing it onto the counter. “Uhh, can you perhaps do the same thing for my sword? I’m coming with him,” you try to appear as friendly, not wanting to startle him. 

But to your dismay, “Y-You’re one of the th-the royal guards!”

The younger boy looks over at you, utterly bewildered when he sees the emblem on your uniform. His eyes look like they’re about to pop out of their socket any second now. As if to fuel the fire, Minho jerks his head towards the direction of Noir, speaking casually, “Also, ask Chaeryeong to take care of the wolf and the horse for me. Tell her to be gentle too, the wolf is hurt and confused. Don’t let him drink potions that aren’t tested beforehand.”

“You brought injured animals to my shop?!”

“One more thing, I need to see Jeong-”

Jisung has to manually shut him up by swinging an arm over his neck, forcing his friend to tumble over the wooden counter, their cheeks pressed against each other. He’s practically spitting into Minho’s face at this point. “What in the world is an outcast, stubborn-headed of a loner like you doing out here with a royal guard?! Didn’t you say that having other people coming along would only get in the way? I thought you worked alone! What’s the deal man?”

“Ahaha, it’s a long story. You see-”

“Excuse my discourtesy for I haven’t introduced myself properly yet,” Jisung stops and averts his gaze over to you, soon letting go of Minho when you flash him a crooked smile. “My name is Y/N, second in command of the royal guards and I’ll be stuck with this dimwit for a while, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Jisung reciprocates your bow, the look in his eyes softening a bit, “And I’m Han Jisung, freelance dealer, single, I’m looking for a—“ Minho finds it irksome how his friend is already out and about, starting a proper conversation without almost getting killed by you so his fist moves on its own, jabbing against the blond’s stomach, forcing air out of his mouth with a low grunt. 

“Don’t mind him,” he turns sideways to reassure you, holding back the twitching muscles on his face. “He’s a decent person, despite how creepy he can be sometimes.” Jisung then elbows him harshly as a payback, making a scene when they start wrestling with each other like a bunch of toddlers. This makes you snort involuntarily, the Black Swordsman isn’t as fully-fledged as what’s been told around the public.

“Kids, that’s enough,” you tell them after making a grab for one of your pouches on Noir’s back. “Minho, why don’t you go meet up with the blacksmith? And Jisung, do you perhaps have a kitchen that I can borrow?”

While Minho’s mumbling something under his breath, hugging both of his and your sword to his chest to make his way behind the counter, Jisung nods at you, lifting a curtain next to a shelf full of weapons, gems, crystals, and potions that leads you down a dark, narrow hallway. “It’s not much,” he says and lights a candle so none of you would trip over each other. “But I hope it helps.”

“Don’t even, doing all of this for a stranger like me is incredibly generous of you,” you say humbly, not wanting to take anything for granted. “I’ll definitely return the favor when I come back.”

Jisung stops walking all of a sudden, causing you to almost bump into his back. “Is that so? Then, uhh…” he scratches the nape of his neck sheepishly. “How do I say this..? I know Minho can be irrational sometimes, loves pretending like he doesn’t care, and always runs into fire. So please..” His throat starts growing dry as he lowers his head a bit, attempting to bow at you.

“Take care of him for me, will you?”

You smile at the blond-haired boy, warmth flaring through your rib cage like butterflies, “I assure you he’s in good hands.”

six.

That night, you and Minho spend the whole night, the next morning, and the afternoon walking barefooted from Kalmburg to a small village at the base of the Restless Cliffs called Drachens Hohle. And it’s anything but Kalmburg. Rustic cabins dot the grassy hills as trees stand up like spikes, zigzagging the border of brick roads and unpolished homes. Rivers stream through deep valleys. The town is as complex as the heart, the streets are the veins, paved with red stones and the people are the heart. They look like they don’t own much, but are willing to share everything and anything. It’s the smiles on their faces, the way they greet each other, the sound of weapons and breastplates being pounded into shape that shows you just how alive this small community can be.

The motel Minho chooses looks like one of those places where men with beer guts would be snooping around with their neighbor’s wife, paying by the hour; a place where random hookers and drug-dealers would thrive. There are external wooden stairs that lead to a second floor, the second row of doors, that looks like the building inspector was either bribed to pass it or drunk on the job. You insist on finding a better place than this rat-hole but Minho said you don’t have to waste a couple of extra pennies just so the beds can be softer.

After dinner, you both receive your own keys before going upstairs to your respective rooms. A dingy place like this isn’t able to provide much when it comes to furniture anyway so there’s only a plain bed with pillows and a blanket, a nightstand with a pitch of water, and a small candle beside it. You sigh while casting your eyes around the room one last time. It’s just for one night.

“Y/N,” Minho gives your door a few knocks. “Are you asleep yet? I have something to tell you.”

You’re still halfway done with unpacking your stuff so you try to yell back without turning on your heels, “Not yet, just come in. I didn’t lock the door.”

He hums as a response before pushing against the wooden surface, closing it with a small ‘click’ after. “I just ran into the mayor downstairs,” Minho starts speaking and that’s when you finish putting your sword away, turning to look at him. And your cheeks inevitably grow hot since the first thing you have to lay your poor eyes on is his collarbones. This bastard really has the audacity to keep his buttons anywhere but a degree of appropriation. 

“Hey, focus,” he snaps his fingers as an attempt to knock you out of your trance, not noticing how he’s obviously the distraction. “It took an hour for him after rambling about his childhood and his love for the village to finally spill something about the kind of crystal that we need. At least pretend like you’re paying attention, will you?”

“I was paying attention,” you mumble loud enough for yourself to hear it. What a white lie. 

Minho quirks a brow and leans himself against the wall, looking amused, “Hmm, sure you did. Now, where were we? Ah! The mayor said those things aren't very hard to find, the only problem is that the field where they grow is right in front of a dragon’s den. No one has ever made it back in one piece. Chances are there might be other random monsters on the way…” 

Suddenly he stops talking, confusing you. “What’s wrong-“

The stiff look on his face seals your lips almost immediately. Faster than a lightning bolt, Minho turns the doorknob and rushes outside. “Who’s there?!” he snaps at the hooded figure running towards the end of the dark hallway, reaching for the sword on his back only to realize it’s not there. “Shit, this isn’t good.”

“Someone was eavesdropping. We’ve got ourselves a spy.” You close the door again after Minho walks inside, facepalming himself onto your bed dreadfully. 

He supports himself upward on his forearms and runs a hand through his hair, “Look, I’m not saying this because I’m doubting your abilities, I just want to guarantee your safety as much as I can. Their motives and patterns are getting pretty much unpredictable.” When he looks straight into your eyes with his warm, brown ones, your heart dips ever so gently. “Would you mind if I were to spend the night in your room?”

Your lips grow agape, your jaw almost drops to the floor. No one has ever asked to spend the night in the same room as you, not even Ryujin—your closest friend out of all the royal guards. Heck, you’ve barely known this man for a good three days yet why is it that your heart didn’t even hesitate? Are you scared? Most definitely not. Then what is it? What’s this weird, fuzzy feeling that’s been stirring inside your stomach for who knows how long?

“.....fine, but don’t try anything.”

Your heart is being weak again.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

You place your hands on either side of your hip when Minho comes back from his room with his pillows and blanket scattered all over the floor, organizing them neatly with his sword leaning against your nightstand. He flickers his eyes upward to look at your judgmental ones, slightly shaking from the cold and nervousness. “I’m getting comfortable?” he tells you, blinking innocently. 

Shaking your head at Minho, you snatch the pillow from his hands and situate it on your bed, right beside your own. “Hurry up now before I change my mind,” you decide after some time of consideration. The floor doesn’t look necessarily clean, and it’s not like Jisung would pack any extra clothes for him to change into. You’re just being nice like any normal, civil human being would. You’re sharing a bed with a stranger, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Oh, I’m good,” Minho scratches his head with a sheepish smile. “The floor is fine for me.” Although the cheap material of the mattress does look more convincing than the hard, cement surface. 

You squint your eyes at him skeptically, “Are you sure?” He then puts his hands up in defeat as though you’re pointing a knife at his throat and motions for you to scoot over with a wave of his hand. You both shuffle around after he slips into the blanket with you, shifting until you’re facing the wall while Minho’s staring awkwardly at the front door. Well, this is kinda nice, he thinks to himself when your back brushes over his every now and then. 

“Uhh, sleep tight, I guess?” Minho says before leaning over the nightstand to blow out the candle. 

“Goodnight to you too,” you spew out your last words of the day, deciding to keep your lips close before you embarrass yourself any further. Okay...maybe one last thing before you completely pass out. “Uhm, Minho?”

He replies softly, “Yeah?” Seems like he can’t fall asleep either. 

Minho tosses himself over the moment you move your body and this causes your faces to be inches apart, his warm breath fanning your cheeks. Although you can’t see him clearly due to the limited source of light, those round eyes are definitely piercing right through you, leaving your heart pounding faster than usual. 

“Can you tell me…” you nibble on your bottom lip hesitantly. “What happened between you and Changbin? You guys weren’t being very civil for old friends.”

When he shifts slightly again to face the ceiling, his arm brushes against yours but he does nothing about it. He likes the lingering warmth from the tips of your fingers. 

You watch in awe as Minho stares up at nothing, broken bits of sadness floating softly inside his irises like an unwanted scar from his past; it’s tragically beautiful. “It was years ago when this whole monster hunting thing started,” he starts calmly, finding it hard to not look at you. “I wasn’t alone, Changbin was there with me too.”

Then, he continues, not knowing that you’re widening your eyes at him, “We were in an assault team, traveling all over the Continent and making a living out of slaying those creatures. We didn’t have much back then, but we had each other. Unfortunately, everyone has their own secrets despite our promise of not hiding anything from each other. Changbin was planning on leaving the group to go on a different path, and I...I would secretly sneak out alone every night, throwing myself into danger, thinking that I wasn’t good enough…Truth is, I was just being selfish.” His voice trails off, trembling as if each word pains him, like a thousand arrow wounds straight into his heart.

Bitter. Unforgiving. Pain. 

“I knew that I was lying to them, that I should just leave without saying anything,” Minho swallows hard like someone’s stepping on him, forcing air out of his lungs mercilessly. 

“But I never belonged anywhere, they were all that I had—my only family. I longed for that warmth, that feeling of being at ease so I just, I couldn’t leave. One day, we were hired to clear out a dungeon through an anonymous letter. It raised some skepticisms in my head since I’ve gone there before, there was nothing, no monsters, no nothing. Even so, I was held back by my own cowardice, I was afraid they might question me. I didn’t stop them when they accepted the job, it was good money.”

Your voice fails you when you open your mouth to say something, so you wordlessly slips your hand into his, hoping that you’ll be able to convey some of your heat to his cold fingers. As if feeling encouraged by your action, he doesn’t push you away and regains his composure. 

“Turns out, my intuitions were right, we got scammed,” Minho says. “A group full of criminals attacked, wanting to keep all of our money for their own. We cooperated and gave them everything, yet that wasn’t enough. They needed to seal our lips for good….Only Changbin and I made it out alive, three mobsters from the gang died under my blade that day. I confessed to Changbin later on, he didn’t forgive me. I couldn’t forgive myself either, the only family I’d ever have was gone, my arrogance and pride killed them.”

Silently, you pull him towards you, caressing the back of his head like he’s gonna fall apart the moment you let him go. Minho’s breath hitches in his throat as he sees you wear a smile on your face, your starry eyes twinkling when moonlight slips through the crack of the wood-lined window, pieces of glass chipping off on the edges. You’re breathtaking, unearthly. 

“I’m not going to die, I know that you’ll protect me just fine.” There’s a wide-eyed expression on his face, his lips falling open but his words die in his throat. A tear unknowingly rolls down on his cheek, consequently blurring his vision with waves of sadness that only the broken would encounter. You let him nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, his fists grabbing at your shirt until his knuckles turn white. 

Minho cries into your chest unceasingly, “I don’t have any real strength. Without my sword, without the anonymity that has been casting terror and curiosity on people, I’m just Lee Minho, the coward who only ever knows how to run away and hide behind the shadow of the Black Swordsman. Changbin was right, I don’t have any right to even think about protecting you.”

“My father used to tell me,” you stroke his hair gently as choked sobs punch through him, pulling him back from the opening arms of his grief. “Strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things.” 

He stops for a moment, nostalgia hurling him back to the memories of two decades ago when he was still just a boy, training hard with his wooden sword while someone watched him from afar, a pleased look lingering on their lips. Tears pool in his eyes again when that person’s face flashes inside his mind but the hollow space inside his heart isn’t the same, there’s a ray of joy that’s managed to make its way through a crack of his walls. 

“And I don’t care if you’re the Black Swordsman or not, I only know the cryptic-looking guy who crossed swords with me and wasn’t willing to back down that day. I knew, I just knew that even without a sword, you could have beaten me. Because fighting isn’t an obligation, it’s a choice. A choice whether you’re going to fight until the very end or not.”

His tears can’t extinguish what has happened, yet only carry him forward until a time comes when that searing pain is distant enough to forget rather than remembering. And maybe one day, it might erase itself from his conscience for good. So perhaps it’s not much of an oddity to thank the salty liquid streaming down on his cheekbones. They’re a living proof for his morality, a barrier to save him from becoming a monster—indifferent to suffering and sorrow. 

Minho sees the fatherly smile on his mentor’s face, just like the old days. And then he sees you through his blurred vision, momentarily breathless at how close you are. 

“After all, I have a promise to keep,” you tell him but it comes out more like a reminder for yourself. “I won’t let you die even when I’m no longer capable of picking up my sword and I mean it. As vice commander of the royal guards, you have my words, Lee Minho.”

An ignited desire wells up at the bottom of his heart, and it baffles him. Lee Minho, a coward who’s willing to turn his back on everyone just so he alone can exist. A bastard who betrayed his only friends, who didn’t even try to plead for forgiveness, who coldly walked away from those painful memories. Such a self-absorbed being like him doesn’t deserve a simple ally, let alone something much more intimate than that.

Then he starts to remember why he’s here, with you. Your smile. Your voice. Memories are flooding back into his head about this girl who made her way into his life abruptly yet so easily. And before he knows it, she’s all that’s on his mind. 

So instead of giving in to his nightmares like he would every other night, Minho stops reminiscing his bloodied past, surrendering under the sense of familiarity radiating off your touch.

seven.

You both stand in awe as the great mountains loom before your eyes, cold grey crevices holding the blood of the fallen. While the lower passes wear a cloak of greenery, the peaks are crowned with a headdress of ice. As though the earth has a pulse, it rises through the mountains, creating their bold silhouette. From carved rocky outcrops, waterfalls drifting like skeins of white lawn, and in the fields, you can see the amber glint of the rivers and the occasional mirror-like flash of the lake. 

The mountains soar upward like they wish to plant a soft kiss on heaven, wanting to have a taste of the horizon all around. The path ahead winds as effortlessly as a blanket laid on a bed, yet each step feels heavier than the previous one, draining your energy. It only gets steeper and narrower as you make your way closer to the top, but giving up is not an option. You’re willing to go to the other side of the world barefooted, searching for every corner, every edge of this planet if it means bringing your brother back. 

A gust of wind howls in the distance, piling up snow in drifts, blinding your eyesight with ice-white dust. You try walking, bending over against the cold, protecting your eyes with your clothed forearms. Everything looms into your vision before vanishing completely, swallowed in white. “Minho?” you call out to him after a few minutes of not looking forward, waving one of your hands around until it can feel something. 

Another hand reaches for yours, and you snap out of your daze when the coldness on the tips of his fingers is clasped against your palm. “You’re as slow as a baby turtle,” he comments lamely while staring ahead, not letting you see the coral shade scattered across his cheeks. “Let’s just hurry up and get back, I’m hungry.” 

Breath pale against the numbing air, you blink thoughtfully while gazing down at the sight of his fingers being intertwined with yours as the frost patiently kisses your face. He’s still wearing the same old pair of fingerless gloves, no wonder his hands are freezing. But you suppose it’s because he doesn’t want the grip on his sword to slip. 

“Oh, I actually have something for us to eat,” you retract your hand to fish it inside your bag, already missing his warmth. “I guess we should have lunch, either way, we’ve been walking before the sun even rose.”

Minho makes a noise of confusion before bringing his steps to a halt, turning his head to see you pull out something being wrapped neatly in paper, giving it a slight jerk towards his direction when he continues to stare at you blankly. Wordlessly, he takes it and sighs, eyes widening when the smell of grilled meat invaded his nostrils. Inside the wrapper is a sandwich made from thinly sliced bread, generously stuffed with meat and vegetables. The peppery aroma inevitably makes his stomach rumble and without another word, Minho chomps on his lunch portion like a hungry child; the sandwich is long gone before he realizes it. 

“It’s...good,” he licks his lips to clean up the remaining sauce in the corners of his mouth. It doesn’t look any different from the ones he’s seen inside restaurants but the taste is what reminds him of something he ate as a kid, he almost teared up while inhaling it. “Where did you buy this? I’ll make sure to pass by the place when we get back.”

“I didn’t buy it,” you stride ahead of him to hide the giddiness in your stomach. “I made it yesterday at Jisung’s place. That’s why the bread got a little soggy if you couldn’t tell already.”

Minho fixes his collar and his hearty laughs echoes through your eardrums, stirring up feelings inside your stomach unabating. “You would make a fortune out of these,” he tells you while trying to catch up, following your steps in a hassle. “But now that I‘m thinking about it again, you shouldn’t do that, I’d hate to see people getting to enjoy the same food as me with some cheap units.”

You blush (out of anger) at his statement and attempt to cover it up by stepping onto his toes. This causes him to yelp while stumbling backward, almost falling onto his bottom. “Why did you feel the need to do that?!”

“I can just make you more if you like it that much, you jerk,” you murmur mostly to yourself but he hears it nonetheless. 

A smile makes its way to his lips, and a fuzzy feeling bubbles up inside his stomach. He’s not sure what it is, but he’s not complaining, really. It’d be nice if he could have the same delicious meals when he’d retired, dozing off while watching the sunset with his significant other and his own kids in his arms. It’d be nice if he could have a place to come back to when he needs a break, a shoulder to lean on and someone to tuck him into bed. It’d be nice if… He looks at you again after those shameless thoughts and immediately, embarrassment dusts his cheeks pink. His face feels hot despite the puffs of cold air escaping his lips. 

“Hey,” Minho pulls you to a stop by the hand, suddenly giving it a squeeze. “I just wanted to say thank you…” A glint of anticipation gleams in your gaze when you both lock eyes, prompting him to look away. “Thank you, for...the meal, it was nice. I might as well bother you a little longer to eat more good food.” Lee Minho you coward. 

“Do you only think about your stomach?“ you almost gawk at him, raising your hand to give him a slap in the face but Minho grabs your hand before you can do so. The next thing you know, his other hand is on the top of your head, ruffling your hair in a playful manner. 

He tells you and trudges on, grinning to himself, “Let’s get moving, we’re wasting time.”

“....Minho?”

“Hmm?” he turns around with a lovesick smile on his face but that’s not what you’re paying attention to.

“You might want to look out for that…”

“For what-“ 

Minho swallows heavily when he sees an enormous figure overhanging his shadow on the white snow. Slowly, his gaze follows the sound of faint yet sturdy footsteps and he holds his breath, eyes twice as white as before. 

“Just to be clear…” he asks breathlessly. “Dragons are nocturnal, right?”

“Correct,” you subconsciously take a step back. “And we might have woken it up.”

Minho takes notice in the thick stripe of black streaking down on one of its claws, and his face morphs into a frown when his surroundings reek off the smell of fresh blood. “No, someone else did.”

The dragon’s scales gleam dashingly in the sunlight, they are its pride and delight, violet streaks blending into a deep blue at the end. Its teeth so cold and sharp like icicles, they can easily rip any armors into mere ribbons of skin and bones. In its chest holds a hearth of ever flickering flame although the remorseless heart remains rime. Eyes with a shade of crimson as deep as the liquid that’s coursing through your veins, nourishing you; those eyes are seemingly endless pools of wisdom and intelligence.

But once those red pupils dilate and focus on the two mundane mortals before themselves, a glint of gold is suddenly evident, almost alarmed. The dragon takes off into the air with its wings stretched leathery like a bat, sending a small snowstorm flying towards the both of you. Minho squints his eyes hard while you’re shielding your vision with your forearms, coats fluttering as wind whistles into your ears.

Minho calmly takes a step forward, flashing you a smile sideways. What is he doing? 

Then, he spares you one last glance before drawing his sword. As though triggered by the sound of metal scraping against the leather sheath, the dragon flaps its majestic wings and inhales, heaps of glowing embers come swirling in midair, twirling towards Minho with a fiery dance. He’s just simply there, feet planted firmly on the ground as though challenging the creature’s deadly breath. 

“Minho, what are you doing?!” you yell at him, trying to keep your balance as the ground begins to tremble. “Get out of there!!”

Pretending not to listen to your warnings, Minho gets into his stance, blade angling low with his knees. What happens next downright baffles you. The blade of his sword glimmers with a shade of purple, his feet taking off towards the plume of fire that soon engulfs his figure completely in your vision. 

You squeeze your eyes shut not just because of the heat but also because you can’t bring yourself to see it. Once the air around you cools off, your eyes flutter open again to see Minho angling his head over his shoulder, throwing you a wink in the process. Did he just counter a dragon’s breath with his sword?

“Chaeryeong taught me that. Neat trick, isn’t it?” he says with a grin while you’re blinking at him in utter shock; he looks almost proud of successfully deflecting that breath attack. “I use magic more often than you’d think. Nothing major, only the basic things. Enough to keep me alive.”

“I still think we need to run first.”

Minho looks at you dejectedly, “Don’t you have a better plan?”

With a howl as loud as any sky-born thunder, the dragon flaps its wings more vigorously this time, flinging the layer of snow under your feet into a blizzard—a swirling storm of screaming silver, a primal force than conquers until its core explodes. Everything around you is almost white-out as you bat your hands around helplessly in the middle of this snowstorm. After a while, you can no longer feel your legs, it’s like the storm just sweeps you off your feet. You’re not sure if it’s because of the cold or-

What the…?

You widen your eyes in a panic; you’re falling. Your perception of time distorts, your surroundings slow down until there’s nothing, only you, the sky above, and a hole that’s only a few hundred feet away from where you were standing previously. Your hand reaches out to the canvas above, grasping the endless crevasse of blue. 

Everything’s a blur, a blur that swirls out of existence. Suspended in the air for a few seconds, you close your eyes and take a deep breath, letting your tense muscles relax. You won’t die from the fall since there’s a likelihood that snow’s already covered the pit. But you can’t just let yourself fall freely, that would cause minor, unnecessary injuries. So you reach for your sword, planning to jab it against the rocky surface as an attempt to go against gravity. 

Once the metal comes in contact with the side of the pit, tiny flares of fire flutter in the air as if the sword is being sharpened by a blacksmith, an ear-piercing sound hisses against your eardrums. The stab is strong enough to slow gravity down from pulling you downward any faster but it’s not enough to make you stop completely. 

Chan, you think while screwing your eyes shut, every cell inside your body is shaking, every muscle is aching. You can’t give up now, not when you’re still in one piece, and Chan’s hanging on the edge of not getting his old life back. You can’t give up not knowing who’s the culprit, not just yet. 

And you’d rather be cursed than making out of this place alive and leaving Minho behind. Your conscience won’t ever forgive you. 

When that thought crosses your mind, you grit your teeth and suddenly the sword stops sliding down, leaving you dangling midair on one arm. The rapier is too slender, it won’t hold on for long, and it’s not like you can climb all the way up to the top. 

A mighty, fearsome roar blares through your brain like wildfire so you flutter your eyes upward to see the dragon with its wings folded on both sides, diving at an immaculate speed into the hole, in your direction. 

There’s my ride. 

eight.

Once the blizzard settles down, the setting sun comes with a sky of fire, the orange of every wintry hearth. The color stretches far and wide along the horizon like a reflection of the dawn that comes after the velvety night. 

That’s when Minho sees them. 

The crystals have grown as something alive may do, thriving over the ages, through many generations. As such they become a rainbow sea made of perfect rocks, the shoreline ever-present and still with colors that shine in the brilliant light of a richness that only nature can bring. Minho might feel bad when he snaps off a piece, it’s like cutting a single, healthy rose in the middle of the thorny garden. But if it’s for Chan, he’s certain that you’d do anything at any cost. 

Minho sheaths his sword and sighs, turning around, “Y/N are you okay?” All that he’s met with is a muffled silence, the cold wind whistling into his ears, the hollow space before his eyes white-out and empty.

“Y/N?” Nothing. 

“Y/N!!” No one answers. “Y/N!!!”

No, he lets out a choked whimper. No, no, no.

His legs tremble inside his boots, his lips quivering, his fists clenched, his fingers turning cold. And the thing that terrifies him most? His heart feels like someone is grasping on it so tightly as though they’re going to crush it with their bare hands. 

A seed of fear suddenly grows inside his rib cage, thriving at an abrupt pace, branching out, gripping onto every cell, every muscle inside his body. He can’t breathe. This can’t be it, he tells himself, tumbling backward a bit. He promised not to let this happen. He swore. Yet his biggest nightmare is only one step away from becoming a reality. 

Minho wants to cry your name aloud over and over again until his vocal cords are torn apart, he wants to be vulnerable for once and let himself fall. How is he going to face Chan? And Changbin? And his own conscience? He might as well run his own sword through his heart because what would be the point in living if you’re no longer here?

All of this was a grave mistake. If only he didn’t throw the dart. If only you didn’t come with him. None of this would have happened. None of this would have happened if he didn’t accept that damned offer. He could have easily flipped you off the second that duel was finished and gone on this trip by himself. And face the scythe of Death alone, by himself, like he always does. He should have died alone, he deserves to die alone. 

But this time, he didn’t make the right decision and the consequences are horrendous. He gave in because of your stubbornness, your determination, your bossy nature. He let you in and his walls came down tumbling one by one, his stern and trained facade shredded into pieces. His head is a mess whenever he sees your smile, his heart can permit you to tread on his boring life. And because of those merely unguarded moments, he’s killed another person that he truly cares about other than himself.

Wait, something clicks inside his head. He almost forgets the most important thing of all. The culprit. 

Minho regains his composure and snaps his head back towards the crystals. The sun might be going down but its limited source of light is more than adequate to cast a shadow onto the snowy white surface. The shadow of a person, a person that’s not you. The shadow that sets a silent inferno inside his chest, the flame spreading by the ticking second. 

“I have been waiting for you,” he turns on his heels, reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Hwang Hyunjin.”

The shadow visibly flinches before stepping out, a hand outstretching from the black cloak to pull down the hood. When Hyunjin’s face comes into view, Minho’s muscles tense up, anguish making his head a little dizzy. But he maintains his cold front, not letting his opponent see how much this is affecting him. 

“I’ve got a feeling that you’d already figured it out the moment I visited the cabin,” Hyunjin says slyly, his facial expression rather relaxed. “And I was so close to silencing you little errand boy for good too, but I’ll admit, the little brat is well trained, he ran off before I could catch him. So tell me, Black Swordsman, where did I slip?”

“Your eyes,” Minho grits. “They weren’t staring at Chan with what’s supposed to be concern or relief. You were looking at him like a predator watching its prey from afar. If I weren’t keeping an eye on you, who knows what you would have done to him. He didn’t sound pleased when you touched him either.”

Hyunjin drops his cloak to the ground, laughing under his breath, “You are sharper than I’d expected.” He takes a few steps closer forward, craning his neck tiredly before drawing his sword, causing Minho to do the same. “Now, now, vice commander, an innocent man is about to be killed because of you.”

Minho can only snicker at the statement, “I’m not planning on going down easily.”

“So am I,” Hyunjin gets ready in his stance, glaring at his opponent. “I wasn’t really planning on dealing with you. I would rather end her and let you take the blame. Actually, that sounds like a better plan! Don’t you agree? No one would put their trust in you—a low, damned being who lives off the upper classes’ bloodied pennies.”

With his blood boiling hot, Minho inhales and exhales deeply to keep his voice calm. “End her?” he repeats after the guard. End her. Hyunjin hasn’t made a single move yet he feels like someone just stabbed him in the gut. How could he?! You trusted Hyunjin, you went through so much with him, you trained him. And now he’s just going to turn around and bite the hand that fed him? Traitor. “Over my dead body.” 

Hyunjin lunges forward, his feet sprinting quickly and he brings his blade up from a lower angle while Minho attempts to clash him from the head down. Both of their swords get knocked away on different sides from the harsh contact. Before Hyunjin can raise his weapon again, Minho sword slices at him sideways but he luckily deflects it in time—the reflexes and muscle memories from his training are kicking in. 

“Why are you doing this? Aren’t you her friend?”

Minho’s sword aims for his head once again; however, Hyunjin steps to the side and makes a grab for his hand, holding his weapon down. This makes Minho lose his balance for a few seconds while Hyunjin tries to cleave his neck. He stumbles on his heels at the last second, only getting away with a small cut on his cheekbone. The pain isn’t even there, he’s been beaten up ten times worse before, this is nothing. He’s practically numb by now. 

“Friend?” Hyunjin drags his sword against the ground before bringing it up to stop a slash at his chest, throwing snow into Minho’s eyes. He groans agonizingly when the white matters’ coldness burns his skin, blurring his vision. “She and Chan only care about themselves! They are the ones who get all the praises and recognition after a mission. Little rumps like me and Changbin?”

He angrily tightens the grip on his weapon, dragging a long slice downward, “We didn’t have any title, we’re merely just two faces amongst a hundred of the other guards. We get treated like we don’t even exist!”

“Did Y/N ever treat you that way? And Chan too?” Minho heaves after dodging the blow by rolling on the ground. He’s circling around the guard, trying to keep his mind clear. “From what I’ve seen, she seems to care about you and Changbin as much as she does about her brother. 

Hyunjin swings his sword at him, and Minho receives the hit with the edge of his blade. The sound of metal scraping against each other is pricking at his eardrums but he can care less, he won’t be dying today. “So you can break my soul,” Minho pants before both of them stagger backward, switching their initial position. “Take everything away from me.”

“Beat me up.” Another blocked blow. 

“Tear me into pieces.” Anger almost tears through his mind again. Anger towards Hyunjin for betraying Chan, you, and his entire team. Anger for falling into his trap. Anger for not being able to keep you safe. He wishes he could just unleash all of his hatred and rage on the guard. But what can he do? He’s one to blame too, after all. 

“Or kill me, even.”

Hyunjin catches up to Minho when he starts sprinting away to regain his vision, the two of them running side by side, in between the lined up crystals. Thrusting his sword at Minho in various directions, Hyunjin’s stabs are getting messy because of the limited amount of space. 

“But I will tell you something, you’d better listen to me and listen to me for good.” Minho’s sword strikes at him but he blocks it in time, their faces inches apart and their weapons threatening to snap each other into half. 

“Touch Y/N.” A low grunt escapes Hyunjin’s lips when Minho jabs his fist against his stomach, forcing air out from his lungs. “And I am going to give you a taste of hell. I have been there before, and you know what? You would be begging me for a painless death by then.”

When the guard falls onto his knees, his weapon dropping by his side with a loud clangor, Minho directs the tip of his sword on top of Hyunjin’s head. “Think about it again, do you think that all of this is really worth it?”

A sinister laugh echoed through his ears and Minho’s eyes grow alarmed when the blood trickled down on his cheek starts to harden a little. No, something’s wrong. “You spoke too soon,” Hyunjin tells him with a devilish tone, the corners of his lips being tugged up into a smirk. 

What is this? On the tip of his fingers reveals a dark shade of blue, it almost reminds him of the royal guards’ uniform. Suddenly his body collapses, he can’t feel his muscles, he can do nothing. His sword is so far away from his grip, he can’t even move his fingers. Paralytic poison. “You bastard!”

Hyunjin pushes himself off the ground, holding his sword by the hilt when the tip is faced downward. “I suppose this is the end. Our encounter is rather short but it was a pleasure to cross swords with the infamous Black Swordsman,” he raises it, chuckling. “Goodbye, Lee Minho.”

Minho locks his jaw, his muscles tense but he can’t move, his eyes are shut while he braces himself for the contact. But it never comes. A growl as loud and frightening as a clap of thunder rumbles through the sky and that’s when Minho opens his eyes to see the shadow of a dragon flying not too high above. Next thing he knows, a figure jumps off, falling rapidly like a lightning bolt. 

Your foot slams onto Hyunjin’s shoulder, causing him to fall back while you land on the ground safely. Before he can register the situation, your rapier is drawn to yank his long sword away. “Hyunjin?” you grit with tears brimming in your eyes. “Why?”

Hyunjin doesn’t respond, instead, he takes a few strides towards you wordlessly. You don’t raise your weapon nor retreat it, simply keeping it limp by your side. But he lifts the blade of your sword with his hands and swiftly runs it through his stomach, blood splattering everywhere. His arms are weak, yet he still tries to put one of them around your back, pulling you closer and leaning his head on your shoulder. “Congratulations, vice commander,” he taunts into your ear. 

“You’re a murderer.”

nine.

Chan finds himself waking up on a plain bed, a white blanket draped over him, and a cold towel on his head. All the mayhem from the past week comes crashing down on him like a tsunami, banging against his temple. He tries to push himself up but his limbs are too wobbly—it feels foreign, it’s like he’s inside someone else’s body and not his own. With every move, his head pulses in agony, and his muscles ache.

The pain stops when he sees you sleeping soundly against his bed, your head rested on your forearms. Another figure is present too, on the couch staring blankly at the flickering fireplace. Opening his mouth to speak, Chan scrunches his nose in pain as he accidentally strains his vocal cords but no words come out, only incoherent sounds. 

“...Chan?” you rub the sleep away from your eyes, yawning tiredly. 

“Ah..ah..ah,” Chan can only lift his arms, calling out to you in desperation. His eyes grow stingy at the sound of your voice and before he knows it, tears are already rolling down in his cheeks relentlessly. 

“Chan, it’s alright,” you hush him softly, slipping your arms around him and holding him tight. “Everything’s fine now, you’re safe. You’ve done enough.” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, that way he won’t be able to see your glassy eyes. This isn’t the time to cry in front of him. 

The door closes with a sharp thud.

Chan only convinces himself that he’s still alive, and back to his human form, not being buried six feet under the ground somewhere when your fingers graze the dull lines that his tears leave behind. A sense of relief washes over him the moment he sees your smile, though insomnia has been carved into your features over time. You’re safe, he closes his eyes. You’re not hurt. 

That’s all that matters. 

“Wait for me here, I’ll call Yeji in,” you give his hands one last squeeze. Chan pulls you back for a second there, a faint frown adorns his face. “Just leave the rest to me, we’re going to be alright.” 

With Chan’s weak smile as an approval, you dash outside, finding Minho standing like a soulless being at the front door of the cabin. He can’t bring himself to face you after what he did. His body is tired, his mind is a mess, and his heart is filled with sorrow. Even his sword seems too heavy for his existence, it’s weighing him down, making him not be able to move. 

“This was all my fault, wasn’t it?”

You don’t answer him and instead outstretch your hand, letting your fingers tug at the sheath of his sword. “Minho, it’s no one’s fault,” you mumble with your head hung low. “I dragged you into this. If anything, I’m the one to blame.”

“No!” His sudden outburst makes you flinch; hence you pull your hand back with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “If I hadn’t thrown that dart, we wouldn’t have met. If you hadn’t followed me on the trip, nothing would have happened! None of this would have happened! You almost died back there, Y/N. Do you know how much it scared me?”

“So you’re just going to leave me like this?” you raise your voice, trying not to snap at him. “After everything, you’re still going to turn away from me? Just like how you did to everyone else?”

“I-“ 

“Lee Minho, if you claimed to care about me so much-”

“I should stay away from you, I will only cause you more trouble. Even worse, I will get you in danger. I won’t forgive myself if anything happens to you.” His heart clenches at his own words as his shoulders shake, arms tense on his sides. 

You reach for his hand, and huff in determination, “Stick to your words and protect me then.”

ten.

It’s been a week since the incident happened. Hyunjin has managed to live after the fight, yet he wants to keep his lips sealed for a while as to why he intended to harm the commander of his team in the first place. For now, he’s being kept in the dungeon while the king and queen permit you to do whatever. After all, he didn’t cause the kingdom any trouble. And if you were being honest, you would forgive Hyunjin without a second thought just so things can be normal again. It’s not as easy as you’d hoped. 

Minho, on the other hand, has been praised tremendously by everyone in court for what he did. His name has been cleansed and every flighty rumor or gossip about him has been cleared out. He doesn’t like this at all, journalists are starting to snoop around Jisung’s place, leaving him no choice but to stay at Yeji’s log house for some time. His reputation was what used to keep him safe, now everything’s being flipped upside down. 

He stares at his own reflection in the mirror from across the room. Minho can’t tell if it’s because he’s only worn the color black for the longest time or he’s being irrational, but he thinks the white loose shirt and matching pants that the mage brought back last night from the castle just don’t look right. Is his own moniker messing with his head? Probably. 

Glancing sideways to catch a glimpse of his sword on his bed, he exhales dejectedly. I look like a joke, Minho thinks to himself. 

“I never knew the Black Swordsman would look this dashing in white,” Chan enters his room with a dimpled smile on his face, Changbin following him suit. He’s recovering from the past week of living his life as a wolf, it’s still quite hard for Chan to walk so Yeji forced him to use a wheelchair for the time being. 

“Don’t you guys have any clothes that aren’t so flashy?” Minho cracks a crooked smile, feeling unfamiliar being dressed in such a bright color. “I look ridiculous.”

Chan chuckles wholeheartedly and shakes his head, “Actually, that’s one of our less flashy ones. Don’t worry, you look great.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Minho’s question isn’t necessarily directed towards Chan, but rather the person standing behind him. “If you want to curse me for the things I’ve done, then fine, I accept it. I will leave Kalmburg and move to the other side of the Continent. You’ll never have to see me again.”

Changbin steps forward, and with a deep breath, he says, “Thank you, Minho.” 

Minho can’t believe his ears, did he just—

“Thank you,” Changbin says again; this time more firmly, and the look in his eyes softening. In those brown orbs, Minho can once again see the look he used to be met with five years ago, no hatred or anger, just warmth. He missed this. A ‘thank you’ has never sounded so nerve-calming before. It’s genuine, it’s real. Heartwarming, almost. 

“When you told me that you would protect her,” Changbin continues, gaze cast downward. “I almost believed you, I knew you weren’t lying. It felt like that day after we both got out of the dungeon all over again. My anger always got the best of me and I just burst. I never gave you the chance to explain yourself, I never got to know your reasons. I am sorry because I didn’t care about you enough, as a friend.”

“I am sorry too,” Minho rises from his seat on the bed, suppressing the happiness inside his ribcage. “I’m sorry I bailed on you that day, I think about it all the time.”

He pauses for a moment and sees Changbin outstretching his hand, the familiar broad smile dancing on his lips. Minho accepts his friend’s warm handshake and reciprocates his grin. “You’d better stay alive first before apologizing.”

Minho widens his eyes, “Of course I am alive!”

“No, I mean,” Changbin waves his hand dismissively. “I was going to ask you to join us since there’s a good chance that His Majesty won’t turn you down, but then I’d figure, you’re too reckless for us to handle either way. So if you’re planning on going out here and throwing yourself at monsters, you’d better stay safe or I wouldn’t forgive you again. And Y/N would never forgive herself.”

Chan eyes the small box sitting neatly on Minho’s nightstand, and teases, “Speaking of Y/N, when will you tell her?”

Minho scratches the nape of his neck with glowing cheeks, he can physically feel the pink tint darkening by the second. “I don’t know, but soon. I still need to have his permission first,” he leans over to take the box in his palm, opening it carefully. 

The sight of the silver band resting nicely inside makes his chest swell, his beating heart doing its best to not implode from joy. It might be too early, but he’s scared that if he doesn’t do this now, fate is going to be one step ahead and take you away from him forever. 

“Minho!” Yeji calls out to him from behind the door. “Y/N’s here!”

“I wish the best of luck for you then,” Chan tosses a wink in his direction.

eleven.

“No one asked you to come, Han.” Is the first thing Minho spats out when he closes the front door with his bag slung over his shoulder. Jisung’s welcoming grin falls flat on his face at his friend’s cold remark. He really should have got used to these things by now. 

“I did,” you tell him with crossed arms, releasing your grip on Noir’s reign. “Yeji said she’s running low on some herbs so I introduced her to Jisung’s place.”

Minho rolls his eyes to the moon. “Aren’t there more trust-worthy stores for the royal mage? Why would you refer her to that dingy dumpster?” And this statement prompts Jisung to give his knee a harsh kick followed by a mere glare from the younger boy. 

“I actually like his place, it’s cute,” you scoff. He’s just acting out since Jisung always shows up unannounced. 

“Why? It’s a rip-off.”

“Minho, you were living there for free!”

“I’m going to leave you two love birds alone now,” Jisung pushes past you to shoot Minho a mischievous smirk, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t do anything weird to her or Chan is going to cut your arms off.” Actually, you’re fully capable of cutting his arms off yourself if he dared think about doing something damned. The swordsmanship runs in the family after all. 

Your face morphs into a frown when Jisung finally enters the cabin, your head tilted to the side in confusion. “What is he talking about?” you ask but brush it off nonetheless; it’s Jisung, you can’t expect anything less from him. “Forget it, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Minho answers while petting Noir, your horse nudges her nose against his face in return—she’s always been keen on seeing him since day one. “How is your father these days? Last time I’d asked, you told me that he’d retired.”

You nod, resting your palm on the hilt of your sword, “He’s good. He said he’s already too old to train soldiers and he’d rather stay at home. Though he’s getting bored these days since there’s not much to do anymore. He’ll find a new hobby soon enough, he will need to take a break from everything eventually. Father has never let himself rest after our mother passed away, constant work distracts him.”

Minho hears you let out a small sigh and takes another step, his hands finding their way towards yours, collecting your fingers between his, giving them a firm squeeze. 

You give in after a few moments to face him completely, concern is flashing in his eyes while a small smile blooms on his lips. He looks a little tired, probably didn’t get any sleep for the past few days while you’re resolving all the problems in court. Minho never fails to stun you nonetheless, from the curve of his lips to the fullness of his eyelashes and the adoration in his warm eyes for you and only you; they make you feel at ease. 

“Like father, like daughter,” he brushes a strand of hair away from your face and jokes. “You’d better be eating well and getting enough sleep, vice commander.”

You snicker, “Speak for yourself, Black Swordsman, you look terrible.” That’s a lie, he looks absolutely wondrous it’s unfair. 

“I like this color on you,” you giggle after noticing his appearance today. They really don’t have any dark-colored pieces of clothing in the castle. “Look, we’re matching. You’re just not matching with your sword anymore.”

“Y/N.” The merry tone in his voice suddenly drops and Minho looks away, his muscles loosening. “Can I ask you something? But I don’t want you to get mad at me.”

You’re suddenly worried. “What’s wrong?”

“On the day that the incident happened….,” he trails off nervously. “Why didn’t you run away? You could have just left me there and got home safely. There will always be another way to help Chan. The chances of surviving that fight were too slim, there’s no telling what would happen. Why would you—”

“Lee Minho, are you even hearing yourself right now?” you cup his cheeks so that he’ll look at you. “Are you assuming I’m some sort of lowly being who will run away while their partner is in danger? I’d rather die with someone than let that person die in front of my eyes. Especially when it’s you! I would never forgive myself if I ever did that to you. So why are you saying such things?”

Minho reaches for your hand and melts into your touch, exhaling heavily. 

“I don’t know...I’m sorry I think I’m losing my mind. After everything, I’m scared that I might lose you. All I want to do is run away with you, from all of this, from everything. We can live together in someplace far away, where no one can find us,” he clenches his eyes shut. 

“I just- I don’t want you to be in love with someone who always has hell hanging by his doorstep, who gets his hands bloodied for a living, who—“

You place your index finger on his lips and shake your head. “Do you even know who I am in love with? Hm?” you question. 

“I’m in love with the most caring, kindhearted man that the world could ever ask for. Whose heart is so warm and fragile, he’s afraid to let anyone in because of his tough past. Whose will is so unwavering he didn’t even think twice about fighting off a dragon alone. But what makes me fall so stupidly for him, is the fact that despite his wounds and scars, he’d always prioritize other people’s needs before his own. Because he’d rather believe and regret than doubt and regret.”

“Y-You’re in love with me?” he studies your delicate feature in the daylight, his heart going on a rampage. 

You chuckle to yourself, “Yes, more than I should be because you’re a pain in the-“

Minho presses his lips against yours and inhales every word, sealing the nagging in until you respond to the kiss. Your hands find their way up to his soft hair, weaving themselves into the dark locks and dropping to caress his face after. He latches his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush against his so he can have more control of your movements. You’re drowning in his existence as he tugs and nibs at your bottom lip, trailing small kisses down your jawline before pulling away completely. 

“I guess this means you’re in love with me too?” you ask to distract yourself from the heat that’s flaring through your nostrils, setting your heart on fire. 

Your question has him stop for less than a moment, realizing that maybe he is in love with you as much as you are with him. And maybe you want him just as much as he wants you too. 

 He nods curtly, breath shaking, “Yes, yes I am.”

For the longest time, Minho used to forbid himself to cry, smile, and laugh like any sane human being would, as he thinks expressing his emotions is being strong, is protecting himself. But in reality, he’s just running away from his own problems instead of finding ways to solve them. 

Now, he will let himself fall, he will let himself cripple, he will let his tears run freely for strength is simply an illusion, there are far more important things. He will fight for what he believes in, protect what he cares about and run on his bare feet through the entire galaxy if it means he gets to see you at the end of it, if it means you can dive into his arms, safe and sound. 

Then, Minho thinks of what’s inside the little box, making the thing thundering inside his chest skip a beat. “Will you stay by my side forever?” he blinks. 

“Is that even a question?” you convey between labored pants. “Even if fate pulls you to the other side of the universe, I will find you, do you hear me? I will find you and fall in love with you all over again.”

“Very well then,” he holds you by the shoulders; the eagerness in his eyes lights up a curiosity inside you. “Y/N, let’s..” But it’s gone before you can even register. “Let’s get going, we’re going to be late.” It’s not quite the right time yet. He still needs to meet someone before tying you up with him for eternity. 

Because Minho too, will always find you and fall in love with you all over again. If fate has a problem with that, then he won’t be giving a damn. 

[satan-ruler-of-hells]

A Million Little Things

Who’s ready for the longest thing I've ever posted? So most of the time when you write, you have a character in mind first right? Because that makes sense. My dumbass however came up with this whole thing without a single name or descriptor and it didn't have one before 5 minutes ago. So if the characterization is off that would be why but I hope you all enjoy nonetheless!

A HUGE thank you to @thisnoodlewritesao3 and @pies-writes-and-more for all of their help and being patient while I freaked out over who to put in XD I love you guys.

"Why are you with him?"

 If you had even a penny for every time someone asked you that question you could've afforded the tuition of Shiratorizawa single handedly. 

"He's an asshole" or your personal favorite, "He's just using you to pass the time."

Usually you just let it roll off your shoulders, sticks and stones you know? But today you'd just have had a rough day. Between the frustration of not grasping a concept you were learning in class , and spilling the entirety of your bag out in the hall and your water bottle exploding you'd just about reached your limit.  Naturally that meant you had to deal with someone’s uninvited options on your relationship.

 "All you are ever going to be to him is a pass time, he's never going to actually love you.  Why would he?" 

The girl's face looks all too innocent except for the slight smirk playing at her lips. It's like she could see right through you and could see your deepest insecurity but you'd be damned letting her know that she got to you.

 "Well maybe you're right but at least he actually gives me the time of day."

 You walked away before you could hear her response and as soon as you walked out the door, the cool, fresh air hitting your face, the tears started slipping. You knew you were supposed to stop by the gym before walking home but you couldn't let Semi see you like this. Instead you walked home and immediately crashed into bed taking a nap hoping it would ease the knot in your stomach and the tightness in your chest. 

You woke up feeling very warm and a hand playing with your hair. 

Looking up through your eyelashes you saw your boyfriend idly scrolling in his phone. He must've sensed your eyes on him because he started speaking,

 "You were supposed to stop by and see me before coming home."

 It wasn't phrased like a question but you knew Semi well enough to know that he wanted an explanation.  You opened your mouth to respond but nothing would come out. How were you supposed to explain that you were scared to talk to him? Tell him what had been said for fear that maybe it was true. You'd always known Semi Eita was too good for you.  He was beautiful, talented, funny and he made you feel invincible. You had nothing to offer him except your love. But you knew all too well that it wasn't always enough. 

"Just wasn't feeling well. Didn't want to worry you that's all."

 His brown eyes pierced yours.

 "Nice try when your mom let me in she told me you were crying when you came home. What happened today?" 

You sat up looking away from him.

"Baby talk to me," you heard him move behind you, " I can't make it better if I don't know what's wrong." His unusually gentle voice had you falling apart almost immediately, spilling everything that had happened throughout the day ending with what the girl said to you.  Pulling your knees to your chest you sobbed, Semi grabbed you, pulling you to sit in his lap so he could hold you.  He didn't say a word, just letting you get out all the emotions you'd bottled up for so long rubbing soothing circles into your back, head resting on yours, occasionally pressing a gentle kiss into your hair. You stayed like that until, eventually you ran out of tears. 

"You hate mornings, mostly because you can’t sleep at night so you never feel ready for them. You don’t eat breakfasts because you say it’s nauseating eating that early in the morning. You hate wearing your hair up but can’t concentrate when it’s down so you always end up pulling it into a messy ponytail. You can’t help singing in the car to yourself even when you think no one can hear you and your favorite time of day is when the sky is a million different colors at sunset. You worry so much about everyone else but the second someone worries about you it’s completely unacceptable. There’s probably a million more little things you think no one notices because you don’t feel worthy of being noticed but I do. Do you want to know why?”

 He turned you around so your eyes met his, cupping your face in his hands.

 “Because I love you and only you. This isn’t exactly how I planned on telling you but it’s the truth. You’re everything I could’ve ever wanted and never knew I needed. Being with you and seeing how compassionate and caring you are makes me want to be the best version of myself, because then, maybe, I'll be at least half way to deserving you. Baby you are the only one I see, my first thought when I wake up and the last one before I fall asleep. Nothing and no one could ever change that, least of all petty bitches who wear way too much make up and smell like a perfume factory exploded on them.”

 You both shared a small laugh at the last part and you sniffled as he wiped away the last traces of tears from your cheeks. “There’s my princess.” Semi smiled and kissed your forehead, cheeks, and nose. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he pulled you into a sweet, gentle kiss. 

“I love you too by the way.”

 A gentle smile playing on your lips, the words feeling as natural as breathing. Running your fingers through his hair, you rested your head on his shoulders, content to soak in his presence and this moment  though messy, was perfect. You knew in this moment what it was like to be truly seen and to be loved without ever realizing it.

 “Thank you for coming and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything earlier. I didn’t realize how much everything was actually bothering me.” 

Semi's arms wrapped around you tighter and he pressed a kiss to your head. “I always want you to tell me when these things happen, when anything happens regardless if it’s bothering you at the moment or not. Let me be there for you, if you can let me rant about volleyball for forever then I think I can handle hearing about your day.” You could practically see his eyes rolling without ever lifting your head and you chuckled softly. 

“Fair enough.” He pulls away from you for a moment, just looking at you.  

You knew you looked like a wreck, because even though the tears had stopped, your eyes were no doubt red and puffy and your hair a mess from your nap. But seeing the way Semi looked at you? It’s like he was seeing something ethereal, the intensity of it made your cheeks warm and you squirmed in his lap.

 You looked away, unable to keep his gaze but his hand gently grabbed your chin bringing it back and he kissed you. You laced your fingers in his ashy blonde hair, breathless, you pulled away and the grin on his face was brighter than any sun and his eyes sparkling bright enough to put whole galaxies to shame. 

The next time someone asked why you were with him? Well simple, you were helplessly in love with him. But the best part was that he felt the same. It wasn’t going to be easy, nothing that’s worth it ever was. However by some miracle the universe gave you a man that looked at you like you’d single handedly hung the stars in the sky, you’d be damned if you’d throw that away.

[nooneelsecomesclose17]

Robron week - Day 2

This is really really tenous given the prompts, but I loved the idea and I think I made it fit!

I now pronounce you...

Robert couldn't believe now time flew. It felt like only yesterday that he'd met his daughter and now she was getting married. He was waiting at the bottom of the stairs for her, Aaron outside on the excuse of checking the vintage car he'd spent months doing up for his baby girl, but Robert knew better. Aaron knew he wanted a few minutes on his own.

"Dad, you ready?"

"Been ready for hours sweetheart. You know your Dad and I got ready for our wedding in about twenty minutes."

"Which time?" He can hear the laughter in her voice, all three of their children were fascinated by their two weddings and teased them all the time.

"Haha very funny. Now come on, let me see this dress I'm paying for."

"It wasn't that much!"

"Your grandmother took you shopping, I'm sure it cost a pretty penny." He hears her footsteps at the top of the stairs and looks up. "And it's worth every single one."

She looks amazing, far too grown up for his liking. He wishes he could turn back the clock to when she was still tiny, hair in pigtails, begging him to play with her. Now she's fully grown, independent and beautiful and leaving them.

"Will I do?" She does a twirl in front of him the way she always used to, laughing as she does.

"You look beautiful. Your Dad's going to have a heart attack, you know he's not dealing with the fact you're leaving home very well. This might just tip him over the edge."

Aaron had been the one who had interrogated Euan when she'd brought him home, frightening him almost to death when he'd casually mentioned their time in prison over dessert, but in the end even he'd had to admit that they were perfect for each other.

Ana was full of dreams, regardless of any limitations and she'd ended up disappointed numerous times when she'd thought she'd failed, or things hadn't gone the way she'd hoped, but Euan seemed to balance her out, his feet firmly on the ground but fully able to keep up with Ana and her moods that he swore she got from Aaron, even if he insisted different.

"Do you think he minds that I asked you to make the speech?" He shakes his head immediately. He knew Aaron was relieved if anything, never one for public speaking, but Ana had still been worried, creeping down the stairs one night when Aaron was asleep to ask him the best way to broach the subject.

"No, course not. Anyway he's been telling me stuff to put in all week so it's just as much his speech as mine." He holds out his hand to her after checking his watch. "You ready?"

"In a minute. How did you...you and Dad, I know you started as an affair, but how did you know? That it was him you wanted?"

"Oh I don't know, it just crept on me I think. Some days it didn't matter what I had on or what I was doing, I couldn't stop thinking about him, he was there every minute, from when I woke up to when I went to sleep. You know when you've got a crush on someone and they're always in your head, and you can't shift them no matter how hard you try? It was something like that, only a hundred times more. Why?"

"I...s'pose I just wanted to make sure I was doing the right thing. You and Dad have got through everything together, I want me and Euan to be like that."

"Well maybe with a few less visits to the police station, eh?" She glares at him, looking just like Aaron. "And are you?"

"I think so. What if we're not?"

"Then your Dad and I will always be here. This is your home sweetheart, whenever you need it. But, you won't, because that lad survived dinner with your Dad, and an interrogation by your Grandma, and there's not many that can say that now is there." In fact they'd seen off more than a couple of her early boyfriends one way or another which she'd been grateful for eventually. "Right, come on, let's go make your Dad cry eh?"

He takes her arm, leading her outside, seeing Aaron polishing the front of the car. It's been a labour of love and no matter how much he'd complained about it, Robert knew he'd enjoyed every minute.

"There you are! I was beginning to think he'd taught you his escaping out of the bathroom trick." When he finally turns round Robert sees the tears start and he shakes his head a little. "Look at you."

"Dad." She's blushing and his eyes soften as he looks at Aaron. Somehow they've managed to raise three wonderful children. "Would you be really offended if we left the car here, and walked?"

Aaron looks stunned, after the fuss she'd made about it but he nods. "Whatever you want, it's your day. The two of you can drive it to the station later if you want. Your Dad will pick it up."

"I will?"

"Yes. So why the change of mind?"

"Just feel like walking. It's a nice day."

"It's freezing!" He can't help complaining. It was mid December after all. "The church heaters better be switched on!"

"Come on old man, don't want you seizing up do we." With that Aaron takes Ana's other arm and the three of them set off towards the church. When they reach it he's surprised that their other daughter, Sara, isn't waiting for them as she's bridesmaid, but there's no one in sight. "Must all be inside, can't say I blame them."

"No, they're not. Come on." With that Ana lets go of their arm and starts walking.

They end up outside the village hall and he and Aaron both stop when they see the guests gather round the exact spot where they'd got married years earlier. It's decorated with hundreds of lights and it looks like something out of a fairytale.

"What the..."

"It didn't feel right getting married in church, neither of us is religious, and besides the two of you haven't done too badly after getting married here. We decided to surprise you."

"How did you do this? I walked up to your Aunt Vic's this morning and there wasn't a single sign of any of this."

"Everyone helped. Seb was in charge, which means it's a miracle that it's all working right but anyway...surprise!"

He doesn't know what to say, and he can see Aaron doesn't either, he's just standing there, mouth open.

"Well done, munchkin, you've managed to stun them into silence." Seb ambles over, the tie of his suit already loose and his hair all over the place.

"Don't call me that! Idiot!" She manages to punch him in the arm before he darts away, her aim always good. "It's my wedding day, you're meant to be nice to me!"

"Yeah yeah." He grins at her before kissing her cheek. "Good luck...munchkin. You look amazing."

When he's gone she falters almost and Robert knows exactly what it is, nerves, a little bit of sadness that this part of life is over and a new one is beginning.

"You ready sweetheart?" Aaron's there, as always, calm and reassuring and she nods, taking his arm once more, looking at Robert to take the other. "Let's get you married then."