#I am so tempted to read The Sun and the Star but I am scared of it being a huge timeskip if I don't read like seven books before it

[aussied]

Okay hi yes hello Percy Jackson fans

HEY so I just finished The Last Olympian! What do you guys in the fandom recommend I read next? I know I'm kind of at the "splitting off point" where I can read the other stories in the universe, but I also know that The Chalice of The Gods just came out.... I'm not sure what I should start next!

(Yes, I do know that not all of the other stories are about Percy Jackson himself. That's fine -though I would like to read more stuff with him in it-! I just wanna know if there's a "best order to read things in" thing that folks recommend.)

So PJO fans, where should I go from here?

[missinghan]

cold sun ⤖ han jisung

❖ genre : soulmate au; fluff; angst

❖ word count : 2,6k.

❖ warning : slight swearing

❖ summary : in a world where one will lose something if their soulmate doesn’t reciprocate their words of love once they turn sixteen, jisung is willing to take the risk so you won’t have to bear the burden.

❖ note : i just realized how i always tend to write for jisung when i'm down :')) anywho this piece is a little different than what i usually come up with but i hope y'all enjoy it ♡

It’s the first day of the week.

“Hey, Y/N. I like you!”

And Han Jisung is really annoying.

Those words come out so easily. It's casual in a way that makes you bury your red nose deeper into the soft fabric of your scarf, which makes your footsteps quicken unknowingly as his voice chases after you loudly. Either way, this isn’t the first time Jisung has said so. In fact, it’s become a habit for him to remind you every other day.

There’s no particular reason why. Or at least that’s what you think.

It’s the end of the week. Jisung decides to hang himself upside down on your bed while you’re stressing over a presentation. “Hey, Y/N.” A cold winter breeze comes rushing against the perplexing glass of your window, shaking the frame violently before all motions come to silence.

Until, “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he creeps up from behind you and chirps into your ear.

“What?” you let out a groan of displease when tempting warmth embraces you whole, prompting you to drop your attention and looking over your shoulder.

Jisung pouts, “You didn’t answer me.”

“It’s because you’re annoying,” you sigh.

“Answer me when I call your name,” he pulls you in a fraction tighter, careful enough not to hurt you but firm to not let you slip away at the same time, and cradles your neck warmly, “So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“Alright, stupid.”

The all too familiar gummy smile returns instantly. “Hey, Y/N?”

And you can’t help but roll your eyes. “Yes, Jisung?”

“I like you,” he giggles into the hug, “I like you a lot.”

Han Jisung really is annoying.

He’s annoying because he talks too much. He’s annoying because of how he always asks for your notes after a gaming night with Felix just to nap in class. He’s annoying because he’d drop you in a heartbeat for a single slice of cheesecake from Jeongin’s mom’s bakery. He’s annoying because of how well he can get along with everyone.

Chatty, down-to-earth, easy-going with a lovable smile—attractive, very attractive.

It’s the week after that. “What...happened?”

“He lost his voice,” Jeongin sighs, looking like he genuinely wants to facepalm himself against concrete while walking with an incoherent Jisung to school; expressive hands with his mouth agape and all.

You tilt your head, “...for real?”

“For real.”

After a few seconds of eyeing Jisung struggling with converting what’s in his head, you exhale deeply and quickly rummage through your backpack, “Just stop, you look ridiculous.” And he does just that, zipping his mouth metaphorically and giving you those typical puppy eyes. “Here, use this.”

His eyes light up like stars when you rip off a page from one of your notebooks and offer it to him along with a pen. Truth is, you’re expecting something as predictable as ‘I like you’ or ‘It’s alright it’s just the worst cold I’ve ever caught’. But then, what’s displayed on the piece of paper right now only baffles you.

Park is going to murder you if he sees some uglyass tear in your Ochem notes :)

A forced grin splits your lips open. “Not if I murdered you first and then the entire school and then myself.”

The first genuine smile blossoms on his lips when you give him a mini-sized notepad and pencil the day after—his sixteenth birthday.

And Jisung decides this is it.

It happens when the sun hasn’t even come out yet and the irritating blue light from his phone reads 5:32 AM.

It happens when he sees your reclined figure leaning back against his mattress, his pupils tracing your delicate features. Perplexed emotions fill his eyes to the brim, fulfillment bursting within his chest when you stare right back at him with such purity. So pure that it seems you can do no harm to him and neither can he.

“Hey stupid,” you murmur quietly, shoving a notepad and pencil against his chest, “Happy birthday.”

Jisung gives you a bright smile, opens his mouth, and snaps it close mere moments later. Sixteenth birthday. Early in the morning. Tired grins. The fondness of being so disgustingly in love.

He can’t help but lean in and caves into the taste his soul has longed for as long as he can remember.

Two weeks have passed since Jisung has lost his voice.

Nothing has differed if you’re being completely honest. Han Jisung is still annoying. His lack of ability to speak doesn’t appear to be a problem to him at all. He loves chatting with people even though he’s more of a listener now. But with the small notepad you gave him a few days ago, being socially active is the norm for him even now.

Thanks to his rather short-period experiences of observing people’s expressions and how their features contort in certain ways when they’re feeling certain emotions, Jisung catches onto your mood more quickly during bad days to help you release your inner turmoil by scribbling down something stupid on the notepad. It’s kinda nice like this, you’d think to yourself sometimes.

Other times, you’re more scared that you might have forgotten what his voice sounds like.

“No wonder you got a fucking cold. Stop taking midnight showers already.”

You wave Jisung over when he closes the wooden door to your bedroom, droplets dripping from his hair as he scratches his stomach tiredly. His hair is a mess when he lazily crawls onto your bed, the cushion beside you dips slightly.

His index finger pointing at his post-shower head and a shit-eating grin are all you need to snatch the white towel around his neck.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” you mumble while rubbing the cotton fabric into his hair, “But you’re awfully upbeat for someone who’s lost their voice. Can’t you at least pretend to be sad about it?”

A noise of protest escapes his throat like second nature as your eyes carefully read the quick movements of his mouth. “And can you not be so mean to someone who’s lost their voice?”

A faint smirk creeps its way up to your lips. “Still like me now?”

Jisung thinks hard for a few moments before jumping out of bed to snatch his notepad from your studying area. Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Your heartbeat momentarily spikes at his scrawny handwriting. Just when your gaze is averted away to cool the blush on your cheeks, he tugs at your sleeve again and points at a different mess of scribbles. You’re more gentle when I’m like this. And you’d always find me if I ever got into trouble. What’s there for me to be sad about?

“Annoying little shit,” you swallow your pride and let him settle his head against your chest.

His presence melts into yours during the hardest hours of the twenty-four, heartbeats on heartbeats and warmth on warmth. Your one regret is that you’re unable to register his tears that night, only the incoherent, breathless hiccups almost as to desperately call out your name.

It’s been a month since Jisung’s lost his voice. And the night when he kisses you for the second time, his notepad is long forgotten next to your pillow.

I-can’t-talk. Give-me-a-break.

Jeongin. Cheesecake. Please? Pretty please?

I’ll fucking kick you.

Wait, there’s homework?!

...so you’re telling me LMAO isn’t how French people laugh?

“This is what you’ve been doing during breaks huh…” you mumble under your breath while lazily flipping through the papers. The occasional ‘I like you’-s do pop up every two pages or so, which is more than enough to make you smile like an idiot. But that is until a peculiar paragraph yanks your attention by its neck and tosses it against a brick wall.

Mom, promise me you’re not going to cry.

He made auntie cry?!

I lost my voice for real now but it wasn’t supposed to be like that at first. I just wanted to mess with Y/N and freak her out for a day.

I’m seriously going to punch him.

She was a lot softer toward me after that, you know. I know it’s extremely selfish of me but I just can’t help being so happy. I’m sorry, mom. I really am.

Han Jisung you fucking idiot.

I was going to surprise her on my birthday by saying ‘good morning’ out loud but nothing came out. My voice was gone.

Guilt, anger, remorse take over you. You knew nothing of this. You never once questioned for a logical reason behind the loss of his voice and kept moving onward as if it’s not that big of a deal. You didn’t suspect it as a kind of prank, either. But you still care, all this time! You have been doing everything in your power as a way for both you and Jisung to treasure himself even if he can’t speak anymore.

I went to a check-up last week. Nothing came up. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

However, without fail, the obnoxious part of you will keep wandering back to the concept of soulmates that has been engraved so deeply into the society you’re living in. It makes no sense to you that Jisung lost his voice for no reason right before his sixteenth birthday. This explains it all now.

It’s going to be okay, mom. Because I have Y/N. I know she would come running toward my side over and over again even if she can’t hear me anymore. I really don’t know what I’d do without her in my life.

Jisung knew the penalty for being the first to exchange any words of love yet he still did it. And you were too busy overlooking that stupid pride of yours to say those three words back.

It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to forget what I used to sound like. I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.

Jisung fixes the strap of his backpack, looking up at his mom after slipping into his sneakers. She ruffles his bed head and hands him a small white box with Jeongin’s bakery’s signature logo on it.

He tilts his head in faint confusion, peering at the box of pastry in his arms.

“Give it to Y/N on the bus, okay? Her parents aren’t home right now. You know how she would always skip breakfast when they’re out of town.”

His eyes light up instantly in realization and Jisung nods, preparing to bid her farewell. Just then, his front door comes flying open. It can’t be a mere acquaintance because there are very few people other than his parents and himself who know of the spare key hidden under the welcome mat.

As Jisung turns around, he’s keenly aware of your teary eyes already trained on him. Which in hindsight, makes no sense. As a result, panic rises within the hollowness of his chest, his lips falling agape but no coherent words come out.

“Y/N, sweetheart,” his mom flinches, slightly caught off guard, “Is everything okay?”

A scowl stretches over your contorted features as you shut the door loudly. “What the hell is this?” you question, shoving the familiar notepad into his chest. “A prank? A prank?! Do you think that this is funny?”

Jisung’s frantic eyes move to read the paper and every single color on his face drains tremendously. He easily recognizes the peculiar paragraph by how much lighter the ink is compared to the rest of the messy lines because his pen was running low and his hand couldn’t stop shaking.

Your voice.

His eyes avert back to look at you. His brows furrow timidly and shaky breaths burst from his lips almost like a desperate cry for help. There’s too much he wants to say, too many things to explain, and too many questions running through his head that he can’t process what to do next. He might just overwhelm both you and himself.

I need to hear it again.

And you might not stay by his side this time.

“Okay, don’t answer me then, I guess,” you chuckle lowly, dipping your head and turning around.

Jisung grabs at your sleeve instinctively and drops the pastry box, his gaze empty and all too knowing. Sorrow glazes over his starry eyes when it starts becoming hard to breathe properly. The outlines of his lips are moving non-stop yet nothing comes following after that.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you rasp out and tug at his hand. Then it hits you. He’s like this because of you. Jisung lost his voice because of you.

His mom cuts into the conversation, “Y/N, you don’t understand!”

“I’m sorry, auntie,” you smile sadly and take off running into the streets.

You, in the midst of your self-loathing and guilt, allow your feet to go wherever they want as your vision spirals into a blur. A single droplet threatens to fall when a forceful hand yanks you back to reality.

It takes Jisung a moment to regain his regular breathing pace. And when he finally gets it, all he can do is call out to you with the same inaudible sounds and the same desperation in his eyes. It seems as though he’s fully aware that the prank was the stupidest, most irrational thing he’s ever done. But there’s more to the ocean within his eyes than just remorse.

“I already told you,” you clench your jaw and slap his hand away, “I don’t fucking know what you’re saying!”

A deep sigh. “Why am I mad? Of course, I’d be mad! It’s because of me that you lost your voice! It’s because I like you, too! Yet I never said it back… You lost your voice because of me! Don't you get it? Why can't you just hate me for the sake of it?!”

You miss his voice. You miss it a lot.

You want to hear it again. You want to hear him call you by your name. You want to stay up late and talk about anything to the ends of the Earth and back with him. You want him to be the obnoxious, chatty Han Jisung you've always known.

You miss how annoyingly loud he is.

“Y-Y...Y/N…!”

Jisung collapses onto his knees, a hand on concrete while the other is on his neck. His chest rises and falls unevenly, muffled noises of discomfort echoing deep down from his throat. Despite that, what you heard just now, is his voice.

“Answer me when I call your name. So I’d know that you’re still here with me.”

“I promised you, didn’t I,” you spread your arms and smile warmly, “That I’d always answer when you call my name. As long as I can still hear you, I will come running toward you over and over again. Doesn’t matter what it takes, doesn’t matter where you are.”

Jisung lifts his head and tears come rolling down on his cheeks. His throat feels swollen when he stutters with difficulties, trying to convey what’s in his head, “Y-Y/N, don’t- don’t go! Please don’t leave me...!”

“Come here,” you close your eyes with the widest grin on your lips, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Only when Jisung grows closer and throws his arms around you, sobbing into your uniform do you convince yourself that all of this isn’t a hallucination. The hug is a lot stronger than what you’d expect. First of all, you nearly fell over from the impact and your arms are pinned so tightly to your sides that you feel like your ribs are going to snap.

Everything is so overwhelming that all you can say is, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles into your hair and loosens his arms a bit so you can loop your hands to the nape of his neck and hair.

“You’re so annoying, Han Jisung.”

He purses his lips, sniffling, “You tried to make me snap on purpose. Meanie.”

You quirk a playful brow, “Still like me now?”

“Yeah,” Jisung smiles, “A lot.”

Because he knows that he has you. Until every last star in the galaxy explodes as a supernova, Jisung has you.

[keepingupwithpotters]

If you’re taking prompts

“You’re really warm.” and

“Come back to bed. Please” for jily pls??

I am laughing at for jily like I'm capable of writing for anything else. I promise you, even if it is about two unrelated characters, I'll find a way to make it about jily

Also finally put the drabbles on ao3 as promised so you can read this there as well

Fretting over Lily Evans was nothing new for James, but this time might’ve put him to his early grave after all.

He touches her forehead discreetly, trying not to disturb her sleep. She went in and out of her slumber all night, giving him a scare half the time with her nonsensical mumblings. He doesn’t recall when exactly he fell asleep too, not long ago according to the rising sun, but that’s how he finds himself next to her now.

Blinking his eyes woozily, he gives himself permission for a moment of bliss before jumping into action, pretending they are lying side by side not because she is burning like a furnace, but like he always wakes up next to Lily, this hair tickling his shoulder not unusual.

He can only guess what prompted her to call him last night. A bitter part of him thinks it’s because she knew he would come running, no questions asked. It’s hard to ignore that part when that was exactly what he did, probably before he even hung up the phone. There is, of course, always the chance that it was the side effect of her running fever. One should not underestimate it, he learned that firsthand all through the night.

The pretense falls apart when he feels Lily’s skin, panic rising inside him all over again. He has spent the whole night trying to make sure her temperature didn’t pass 40 degrees, hand ready over his phone for the minute it did. It feels like it has risen again, her cheeks flaming bright to prove his insight right.

“Aren’t you gonna kiss my forehead?”

She startles him, with the question or her half open eyes smiling dozily at him, he doesn’t know.

“Why would I take advantage of the ill, Evans?”

Her smile gets softer, fonder. “That’s how my mom used to take my temperature.”

He’s never been able to say no to that smile.

She closes her eyes with the kiss, looking content and peaceful, not at all like the bedridden patient she is supposed to be. He lingers one second longer than necessary.

He has forgotten the purpose of the act until she looks at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

“You’re really warm.”

She doesn’t care for his furrowed brows or less than satisfactory explanation when she snuggles into him, purring, “Thank you, so are you.”

“That was not a compliment, Evans.” He tries to hide the fact his breath hitches when she burrows her face in his neck. “That means I am doing something very, very wrong. Are you sure you don’t want me to call anybody else?”

Her hold on him tightens even further if possible. She sounds like a petulant child when she whines her refusal. He can imagine, and feel, her pout.

He tries to untangle himself from her, but she looks so offended by his actions that he feels the need to explain himself. “I need to wet these rags again, and you need to eat some breakfast so you can take your antipyretics.”

She opens her mouth to say something, another refusal going by her displeased expression, but he jumps from the bed before she can tempt her more.

He goes to the bathroom first, thinking maybe some cool water would do him good too. She is already asleep by the time he comes back, hand reaching out to where he once laid on the bed. He places the damp clothes on her forehead with a grin, letting it take over his face while she is not able to see it. The pills he found when he rummaged through her medicine cabinet are put on her nightstand, waiting for his arrival with some food.

Preparing some eggs and toast helps him gather himself a little more, the habitual routine putting his brain on autopilot. The morning feels like something out of James’ dreams with Lily cuddling him in the bed and him making her breakfast, he finds it necessary to remind himself the true nature of the situation as he fills a glass of water for her.

She is awake when he enters the room, following his motions silently as he puts the plate on her side too. He is just about to sit on the chair by her bedside when she stops him with a hand on his arm.

“I promise I’ll eat something in a minute. Can you just… come back to bed? Please?”

His will already weakened since he woke up, he finds that it crumbles completely when he hears her voice so weak, tone so pleading. He lays down on his previous place without saying anything, her head finding his shoulder immediately.

A small hand traces patterns on his chest, nails tickling the heart underneath with every swoop. They could probably live in that relaxed bubble forever if the question nagging inside him just hadn’t popped out unexpectedly.

“Why did you call me yesterday, Lily?”

The finger drawing flowers, stars, and initials never stops its movement. “Because I had a high fever, and I didn’t want to go to the ER.”

“No. I mean, why did you call me?”

He holds his breath in anticipation of her answer, and she stills momentarily too before shaking out of her stupor. “I wanted to be with you.” Her voice sounds so small. “I always want to be with you, you know that.”

There is relief ballooning inside him with her words, mixed with something he dares not name. He hums softly as a response, neither denying nor confirming her assumption.

“We can stay in bed for one more minute, then I’m gonna make you eat that breakfast, Evans.”

“Two, because you just took advantage of a sick person’s honesty and I deserve it.”

“Deal.”

He’ll let her pretend like he won’t do anything she asks for. They both know it’s a lie anyway.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Don’t Look! [Part 3]

<- Part 2 | Part 4 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader

Once again, transformation AU by @we-are-all-just-a-bit-crazy, I’m just making a fic with it! (Going to try to wrap this series tomorrow; we’ll see if I can keep up the pace). Mutual pining + Chilton having trust issues. 

2,160 words

The door opened a crack, and Dr. Chilton’s eyes appeared, searching up and down the hallway. Your pulse quickened. Finally, you were going to get answers—some logical explanation for what you’d seen last night. At least you could show him support this time instead of leaving him trembling in the dark.

He seemed to be human again. You found yourself checking and rechecking the texture of his skin for lingering signs of spikes and swirling darkness. A chill ran down your spine at his proximity, like it did when you saw a spider. You wished it wouldn’t. You didn’t want to be afraid of spiders. You didn’t want to be afraid of him.

Finding the coast clear, Chilton opened the door another few inches and stepped out wearing your grey hoodie and sweatpants. His hair was a mess, the hood pulled down to hide it.

“I cannot be seen this way. If you need me, I shall be at home. You have my personal number. Please call Nightengale Restorations and have them fix the office. Tell them I will pay a fifteen percent bonus for having it done this week,” he prattled in his professional tone as if this were just another workplace matter. He walked away, a slight hitch to his swift gait, but turned after three steps and met your eyes. “Thank you,” he said.

***

There was no confrontation after that. Dr. Chilton resumed work the next day, and things simply went back to normal. That is to say: awkward silences, reading novels into every word, and the simmering tension of pretending everything was normal when, in fact, nothing had been resolved.

Questions burned in your eyes, but fear restrained your tongue. The answers would only make you more afraid, and so Chilton did not volunteer them.

You didn’t run away, but you didn’t ask, either. Chilton was satisfied that you were just as in denial as he was.

The daily routine went on exactly as it used to: you would arrive at 7:30 am, knock at his office door, hand him a coffee, and take the file of paperwork he wanted done that day. Only there was hesitation in your knock, and you waited for him to say, “Enter,” instead of sauntering in like you owned the place. He had you put the coffee down on his desk so you would not risk brushing his fingertips as you sometimes did. When you took the file, you stared at him like he might bite.

“That will be all,” he said, dismissing you before your stoic mask faltered and you showed your true disgust.

***

Chilton’s skin crawled beneath his suit from his arms to his feet, and his scar throbbed for the first time in weeks. Having Abel Gideon back under his care was disconcerting, but a necessary part of Will Graham’s therapy—or rather, another clue in the case Graham was building against Hannibal Lecter.

He was skeptical at first. Graham was a lunatic—a sociopathic manipulator. Delusional. Yet, even a sociopath could not fabricate such elaborate lies with that much sodium amytal running through his veins.

The nightmares would be worth it when he was the man famous for bringing down the Chesapeake Ripper.

“Hey.”

Chilton looked up, eyes rimmed with red from hours of staring at a computer screen, working late yet again. You held up a bag of takeout, a weak smile on your lips.

“Need a break?” you offered, moving to sit across from him at his desk. Everything in the office was tidied up—you had cleaned most of it yourself the day Chilton went home in your sweatpants. The damage wasn’t as bad as it looked. Most of the furniture was simply overturned, not broken. Only the antique in-wall shelving waited for professional repair.

“No. Thank you,” he said, waving away the food. His lips thinned wanly. “You may help yourself if you like.”

He was equally surprised and suspicious when you stayed, unpacking the container of vegetarian pesto tortellini. He watched hungrily as you lanced one with a plastic fork and brought it to your lips. His stomach growled.

“Are you alright?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, straightening defensively in his seat.

“With Gideon here. That must be difficult.”

“I manage.”

You chewed another pasta in silence. Finally, he couldn’t help it and grabbed the second fork, stealing a tortellini off your platter. It was rich and flavorful—a bit heavy on the salt, but obviously from a fine restaurant. He held the bite in his mouth. No strange aftertastes. He did not feel woozy after swallowing. There was always a chance you were willing to drug yourself to get to him if you had an accomplice waiting to spirit him away to some secret facility.

“All right,” he snapped, chair shooting back toward the wall as he stood. “What are you after?”

You gave a startled “Mmph?” around a mouthful of pesto.

“What is the catch? A price for your silence? Why are you here, bribing me with dinner?”

“I… I’m not—what? I was worried about you.”

“Unlikely, considering the circumstances. Tell me what you want.” His eyes locked onto you, cold and piercing.

“Fine!” you broke. “I want you to forgive me!”

“For what?” he sneered, half believing your words were a veiled threat.

“I’m sorry, OK? Please—what can I do to make up for it? I tried giving you space, but now you look at me like I’m going to kick you, or”—your eyes widened at the plate of food he only touched after you ate some—“poison you! I swear I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” he asked in an entirely softer tone. He sat back down, hunching forward across the desk to search your face.

Your head hung low, and you murmured quietly, “I know I didn’t handle it well. I should have left when you asked. Now I understand… you didn’t want anybody to see that. I invaded your privacy. And then I freaked out!” Your voice broke. “And I’ve been trying to… to make up for it. I know you don’t want to talk about it, but—dammit, I’m pushing you again! Sorry.”

The urge to hug you overwhelmed him. If there wasn’t a deliberately massive table in between you—meant to keep others at a distance—he would have hugged you.

“Are you not afraid?” For once, the broadness of his desk seemed obtrusive.

“I could never be afraid of you.”

Your arm crossed the divide, reaching for his hand. It touched, warm and easy, and gave a sympathetic squeeze that set his blood racing. Then it retracted, and his skin ached for the lost contact.

“I just got scared because I didn’t understand what was happening. I still don’t. Maybe I am still afraid, a little. But not because—! Please, just… tell me what that was. What happened to you?”

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Eyes narrowing, he answered cagily, “First, what do you think you saw? Light can play tricks on the eye, especially after long hours in a morbid environment, possible exposure to hypnotic drugs… Let us be sure we are on the same page.”

“Are you seriously going to gaslight me now that we’re finally talking? I’m not an idiot. You still owe me those pants back!”

While he floundered for words, your eyes squeezed shut, and a hissing laugh burst from your nose. A red flush crept up his neck, under his shirt collar. It was inappropriate to laugh in this situation, but perhaps that was why it was so contagious—it had been too long since he’d seen you laugh, and even longer since he’d done so himself.

“Those cheap, scratchy, torture devices? Consider it a favor that I tossed them,” he quipped. (Forget the fact that he had been sleeping with his face buried in them for the past week and simply did not wish to return them before wringing them for every drop of your scent.)

“And yet you wore them, which means I saved your ass. Checkmate, doctor.”

“Please. It is barely a Vienna Gambit.”

Laughter felt foreign in his throat. It was soft, and only lasted a brief second, but it was cleansing. You smiled at him, rolling your eyes, and his soul lifted.

“Very well,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Ask your questions.”

Your eyes darted to the windows. Another late night. Stars appeared (the handful not blotted out by Baltimore’s light pollution). You chewed your bottom lip.

“Are you going to transform again?”

“Only on the night of the new moon, when twilight gives way to the black of night. No need to worry.”

“Just once a month, then? Werewolf rules?”

He shot an offended glare, though you weren’t wrong. “Sometimes two, near the aphelion. And during an eclipse. It… hates sunlight. Even the reflection of the sun. It wants to be in darkness.” The thought disturbed him—the way the beast called him to the shadows. He always fought it to stay indoors, locking himself away from any nocturnal roving. It frightened him what might happen if he gave in. The coppery taste of blood haunted his dreams.

“Then… would you transform if you went spelunking? You know, in a cave? Or a submarine?”

“I have not tried. A darkened room is not enough. I would not tempt it.”

You swallowed and thought. Your lips twitched, building to the important question: “Is it still you in there?”

“Yes. More impulsive—I would never have smashed the decor—but I am still there.” It brings my true self to the surface, he thought, but withheld this. A slimy, dangerous, unlovable wretch. He looked at you, sitting across from him in front of a container of food you brought to share, and wondered what you were doing there after seeing it. How could you bear to be near him?

“But you’re not going to… eat me or something?” You were embarrassed to ask, and he gave you a fittingly scathing glare.

“No. I would not eat you.” He stabbed a tortellini and popped it in his mouth.

“Then I want to see it.”

He choked.

“I want to get a better look. To wrap my head around it. Besides, it seemed painful—next time I could bring you a hot towel, or… a cold pack, or… I don’t know, some tea? An ibuprofen?”

“There is no next time. You were never supposed to see that in the first place.”

“Please? If it’s going to happen again in two weeks, I want to be there. Prepared this time.”

“This is not a zoo. I am not some freak show to be gawked at! What happened to you being sorry?”

“I just want to get to know you,” you answered, and your voice sounded so small his heart reeled. You snapped your head up, “I mean—I want to be there for you. You shouldn’t be alone.”

He scoffed, defensive again. “Why? Because I might do something dangerous? I am more than capable of controlling myself.”

“Because you deserve to be comforted when you’re in pain.”

Your words struck him like a nuclear bomb of basic human decency. Deserved? Comfort?

“Does anyone else know? Does anyone… take care of you when you change?”

Only his family knew, and they certainly did not take care of him. Bringing him that bag of clothing in the morning was the first time anyone had done something thoughtful for him—helped him with his condition. Even if you had run away at first, you wanted to be supportive. To know his dark side.

Why?

Was it possible? Did you feel the same way about him as he did about you? His hand still felt warm from where you had briefly touched it.

He had to admit, it was nice having someone be there for him. Even a small gesture like old, loose-fitting sweatpants in a bag made a world of difference. Or dinner at his desk. He imagined you pressing a steamed towel to his forehead, and he did not hate the idea—doting on him like a spa therapist, taking the edge off the pain as his hair fell out and skin split open. Or watching him become hideous. Vomiting at the sight of him. Losing all interest you might have had. Realizing it was a mistake to be there.

“Thank you for dinner,” he announced in curt, clipped syllables. “That will be all.”

“Frederick…” Your voice was low, personal. Pleading. He did not like how personal it was. How you were giving him everything he wanted, like you were baiting a trap.

“Fascinating as this must be for you, I still have work to do. Your shift ended an hour ago. Go home.”

“OK. Right. I’ll see you in the morning.”

You didn’t see him trembling as you left, clutching his hand over his fluttering heart.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Taglist: @beccabarba​ / @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ / @thatesqcrush​ / @dianilaws​ / @permanentlydizzy​ / @mrsrafaelbarba​ / @madamsnape921​ / @astrangegirlsmind​ / @neely1177​ / @onerestein​ / @dreamlover31​ / @isvvc-pvscvl​​  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu​ / @welcometothemxdhouse​​ / @feedthemadness-sweetie​ / @law-nerd105​ / @amelia-song-pond​ / @michael-rooker​ / @xecq / @madpanda75​ / @alwaysachorusgirl​ / @bananas-pajamas​ / @leanor-min​ / @mad-girl-without-a-box​ / @katierpblogg​ / @worldofvixen​

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 9 | " THE SPACE BETWEEN US "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

warnings: very mild swearing; brief arguments

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

[ PREV. CHAPTER ] | [ M. LIST ] | [ NEXT CHAPTER ]

START OF PARK SUNGHOON'S POV

I stood there at the side, leaning against the arched entrance. I never meant to eavesdrop in the conversation you were having with the firstborn of the Yang family. It piqued my interest upon hearing your troubles and impulsively decided to help you. To pass time, I guess… or to stall my father into giving me his magnificent title of a duke and have me marry some lady I don’t even desire to have.

Without any significant bargain in the offer, I suggested anyway with the thought that maybe this could help me look at myself the way everyone did before I made history with your brother. The physical bruises and scars we both afflicted on each other faded with time, but the torturous memory continues to haunt us. I may look fine around his presence, but he never had the slightest idea of how I curse myself every single night knowing I not only ruined him and his tender affections with Yena, but our budding and steadfast friendship as well.

I was heinous then. But I swear with my whole heart, I don’t ever intend to hurt you now the way I did with your brother. The moment I let myself drown in your alluring gaze under that brightly lit moonlight, I told myself I won’t take another girl for granted. Not just because I owe it to Niki, but because you were the first person who looked at me without judgment despite knowing your brothers detest me with the entirety of their souls.

I’ve been courting you for over a month now and I’m completely aware of the things we’ve agreed upon about the ruse; needless to say, one might catch feelings in the aftermath. I know this was all a show to give Jungwon a headstart for his own game, but why am I gravely pained every time his name slips out of your lips? Why do I keep myself up on most nights thinking about this lingering question of who do you love? Why do I want to hold you even closer to my side every time he looks at us in dismay?

I’ve come to know that I had myself caught in the middle of whatever this is between you and him; that I’m just the fuel to the fire that’s already been there, left neglected within time. But I can’t help but feel like I need to protect you from him; from whatever hurt he might cause you over time. Although I know my place in all of this and where I stand, it still stings thinking that it isn’t in your heart.

Why would it be, anyway? I’m only just a page you couldn’t keep; a filler in your romantic novel who had the part of the villain origin story but couldn’t fight your hopeless hero. Sadly, Jungwon’s five steps ahead of me. So much for telling the ton there was us in the making, but you weren’t even mine to begin with.

Your mother invited me and the Yang family for dinner a sennight ago. She said it was to properly introduce me as your husband-to-be to your family, that includes your lover’s sitting across the table discussing the recent blow from the Daily Tattle, which was, of course, us.

“Jungwon, dear, have you wished your friend, Y/n, luck on her future wedding with the duke-to-be? Need I remind you that she’s going to need some of it from her best friends.” Lady Yang gently nudged her son who was busy tapping his spoon and fork upon the table. “Jungwon here is finally courting someone, have you heard of that, dear? Lady Choi, daughter of the-”

“The ever famous cheese merchant of our city, Viscount Choi, whom without, we wouldn’t be eating this opulent cheese on the table right this very moment.” I finished, which made the two mothers impressively smile in my direction. Realizing how uncomfortable you become at the very slightest mention of Jungwon’s new lover, I figured butting in could end your agony; seeing that your man is stupid enough to not read the situation in front of him. He seemed more occupied with the utensils than your disheartened state.

As predicted, you excused yourself, and it went without saying that Jungwon followed after you as you rushed out the dining hall and out to your garden. Your brothers and his soon left the hall and went with their casual discourse on the parlor, leaving his and your mother exchanging wedding plans with the company of champagne bottles and cheese. I held my head up high as I walked into the library to reflect on matters that kept me wondering at night. Until Niki strode in, with a pocket watch in hand.

“Riki, I’m-”

“Save your breath, Your Grace. You’re going to need it in case you piss the hell out of Jungwon and he lands his knuckles on your pretty face again.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Can’t get your hands dirty for your sister yet you can for Yena?”

“Do not fucking tempt me, Sunghoon.”

“Too bad. I’d love to see you try, though.”

“And I’d love to see your little mouth shut, Your Grace. You’re impressive, but I’m sure you’ve always been told that. For a moment there you really had me thinking you were about to apologize to my brother. Turns out you’re still the coward that you’ve always been.” Jay walked in unannounced, slightly scaring me. He’s like a lion ready to hunt for prey, even though he’d just sit there looking unbothered. I’ve always deemed your eldest brother with veneration. All I did was drop my head low when he threw me those harsh words, though I completely agree as they embody me in so many ways possible. I hate it.

“A wedding, huh? Don’t you think you’re going too far, already? This ruse is nothing but a shame to both our families. Heed me while I’m asking you nicely to end this foolishness you’ve invoked on our sister.”

“Forgive me… but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Fortunately, Niki was quick enough to grab a hold of Jay when he was about to come at me. I must say this now before it’s too late, and better be in front of your brothers than your lover.

“I will take full responsibility for Y/n. I will be a man of worth to her and a word of honor, I will end any future causes of grievances upon us both. I will protect her from it, just as I’m doing now.”

“You’re doing nothing but stall her from her fate with Jungwon!”

“And how do you know she still cares for him? Haven’t you seen the look on your dear sister’s face whenever Jungwon’s name is brought up? Haven’t you seen that man strolling around the town with a fancy girl in hand a week after breaking your sister’s heart? I thought so. But you just want things to go your way. I’ll respect that. For now.”

I dashed out of the library after giving them a piece of my mind. Though I had planned to apologize to Niki, Jay’s words got the best of me. I headed towards the garden to look for you, but before I could have your attention, Jungwon already did.

END OF PARK SUNGHOON’S POV

 Jungwon rushed to the garden, following Y/n’s quick pace in an attempt to block out any possible thoughts about her lover. Basking under the bright moonlight, Jungwon grabbed her by the wrist, making her turn and crash against his jabot-clad chest.

“Y/n, please-”

“Really, Jung? God! You totally had me fooled that day when I thought we were having a moment!”

“We did! But-”

“But what? You can’t hold yourself accountable for the things you left me with so you squander your way with another lady? Tough blow, don’t you think?”

“Please, Y/n, I just need you to listen to me and-”

“I’m tired, Jung. All these years, you let me wait for you for five years just to have you run back and hurt me again. I’m tired of you making a fool out of me, and I’m dumb enough to always let you. Because I love you. I love you so much, it fucking hurts. I have so much love for you yet here you are, always welcoming me with fleeting bliss and leaving me with endless torment. But the damage has been done and I’m out. I love you, but I guess I’m going to have to leave it like this.”

“You still do?”

“God! I poured out my heart for you and all you could say was that? Jung, how can you be so dense?! I wouldn’t have let you hold me that day in the forest if I don’t love you! I asked you for a new start but you ran off and a week later you’re traipsing around Northumberland with Lady Choi! Right in front of me!”

“You were with that man that day too, in front of me! You look at him with so much admiration with your hand hanging on his arm. How do you think that made me feel?!”

“More than the damage you did to me? What a load of nonsense, Jung! And here I thought you already knew that Sunghoon and I were just fooling around to get to you.”

“Well, I’m here now, Y/n! I’m all yours now!”

“No, you’re not. You just can’t bear the truth that you lost me to him. At the end of the day, it will always be your pride. It always has been. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m apologizing but I still will. This ends here, Jung. I wish you well.”

The entire time that Y/n and the young lord were arguing out the garden, Jay and Niki were carefully listening from the library’s window; Niki figured it was finally time to spill the truth to his sister.

Niki followed Y/n to her room, taking note of the soft sobs and sniffles she emitted. She turned around when she felt her brother’s footsteps trailing after her.

“Riki…” Niki was suddenly enclosed by Y/n’s tight embrace, dampening his jabot shirt with her tears. He returned the warm hug as he gently rubs her corseted back, feeling the constant huffs from her crying.

“I’m sorry about Jungwon.”

“He doesn’t deserve me.” The lady muffled against her brother’s chest.

“Maybe you’re right. And neither does Sunghoon. Listen, Sister. There’s something I need to get off my chest. Come.” The two entered the lady’s room and Niki carefully shut the door tight, locking it in the process. He sat atop the neatly arranged bed while patting the space next to him, gesturing Y/n to sit closer to his side.

“Jay isn’t happy with the sudden announcement of your engagement, and neither am I. But always know that I will always have your back, just like how you always have mine. I’ve seen how Sunghoon made you smile and laugh like how you used to with Jungwon back in the day. This day feared me but we’re here now, and I must tell you the reason why we’re all against him courting you in the first place.”

“Remember Yena? The girl I told you about in the letters? Sunghoon… he deceived her. He made her cheat against me, fed her with lies, and tricked her into thinking our love was nothing but a hoax. I saw them one day in his father’s garden, I followed them, curious enough to see how he made her happier than when she was with me. Until he kissed her. He took her first kiss when I thought we’d be sharing it with each other. And she kissed him back... like I wasn’t even someone to reckon with. Needless to say, I attacked him. The boys went against him afterward. Jungwon was there too. With all the lies he wired into her brain, Yena never looked at me the same after that day. And the many days that followed. She and Sunghoon just suddenly stopped seeing after the fight that erupted between us.”

“The thing was, sister, Sunghoon never loved her. He was young and didn’t want to let the opportunity pass, that’s what he told us when I had his collar by my clutch. That was the only excuse he could ever give us. The asshole that he is.” Niki clicks his tongue while dropping his head low, gaze fixed on the carpeted area on the floor across them. “Fuck. I would still have Yena if he didn’t try to treat things like we were playing a game of who could get the girl first. Thinking about the time he wasted on nothing genuine, Yena could have spent it on me instead and I would have had her here, introduced to Mother and the ton.”

Y/n placed a hand on her brother’s closed, shaky fists. Niki let out soft sniffles, trying his best to keep himself from cracking. “I’m sorry, Riki, I didn’t know. He told me it was all in the past and that he desires to make amends now.” Niki jerks up, eyes fixed on his sister’s eyes. “You’ve only heard his point of view, you never heard mine. Sunghoon’s made a whole record in university, Y/n. He goes around the grounds breaking hearts like he owns them. Girls would swoon over him and he would gladly oblige. What an ambitious, cunning little prick. And now he has you wrapped around his fingers, the same way he did to Yena.”

“I’m sure he means no harm now, brother. He’s been nothing but kind and gentle to me. He makes me utterly happy; the part of my romantic story where I used to want Jungwon to be consistent of.”

“You know, I’ve always been considerate of your choices and aspirations, sister. But I will not lose you to Sunghoon like this. I’m afraid Jay and I will have to be very uptight with you seeing him from now on. I’m sure by now you’ve come to understand why Jungwon’s scared of surrendering you to him. He means well, sis, Jungwon…”

“I will not settle for someone whom I have to spend a lifetime second-guessing whether he wants me in his life or not.”

“But he’s been missing you a lot lately, hasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid him missing me is far too different from him wanting to marry me.”

Niki only sighs before planting a soft kiss on his sister’s temple and fixing his fit to present himself back to the lobby. Y/n was left in her room, fidgeting with her fingers while anxiously biting her bottom lip in deep contemplation.

Sunghoon may have stolen her attention from Jungwon, but she had to admit, she never regretted it. She has felt safe with Sunghoon the past months they’ve been together. Jungwon did nothing but torture her constantly with every chance he got. Although they hadn’t been sticking around their ruse’s ground rules lately, she feared the time between her and Sunghoon would be up soon and she wouldn’t feel his comforting presence around her anymore.

Sunghoon may have gotten her used to their dilly-dallying that time apart from each other could make her feel miserable. Not to mention the embarrassment that would come with it considering she is foretold to be Northumberland’s next duchess after all.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

[trynatalktou]

Save the last dance for me

Read on: ao3

‘’Why is he breakdancing in a slow song?’’

‘’I have NO idea.’’

‘’It’s horrifying.’’

‘’I mean, it’s kind of impressive.''

OR

We get the slow dance we were hoping for.

Through the music rippling its way across the salon; one could not simply take no notice of Hong Cha-young’s blazing magnetic force.

It could be perceived while she shared a waltz with Larry and his perfect posture.

Pulled awkwardly on Han Seo’s arms in a successful attempt to loosen up his stiff two left feet.

Swayed and skipped with Yeon-Jin and her unmatched energy for the entirety of two songs who left them breathless - both from uncontrollable laughter and from their high-stamina moves.

Or now, with Luca and their swiftly spinning which only ever seemed to momentarily cease when every so often Cha-young would trip on her own heels and he would hold her from the fall into a dip move.

Smooth.

Vincenzo stops resisting her pull by the end of the song.

‘’May I care to share the next dance with you, Miss?’’

The miss in question nods enthusiastically, and Luca kisses her hand in farewell, waggling his eyebrows -  in response, she gives a mockingly curtsy.

As soon as Luca leaves, Vincenzo takes a hold of her hand in his,finally drawing into her spell.

He is bewitched.

‘’It’s Mrs., actually.’’ she corrects, lacing her arms around his neck.

‘’Is that so?’’ is paired by a complacent grin.

‘’Well, soon to be anyways. Mister should be around here somewhere, so I would suggest you to behave.’’ she winks. ’’I would also like to inform the kind gentlemen to not do any fancy tricks - I think Luca might have reached the limit of twirls I can give before vomiting all those drinks out.’’

‘’Firmly noted.’’

A romantic beat starts to pulsate its leisurely melody through the crowd.

‘’When I walk down a road I don’t know well

And I am full of scare and doubt

I think of you [...] ’’

‘’It seems that it won’t be a problem sweetie, at least rhythmically speaking.’’

‘’That wasn't as smooth as you must imagine it was, darling.’’

He hooks her ankle to plunge her flirtatiously.

Cha-young steps on his foot.

‘’Urca!’’ comes as a soft whimper.

‘’Achilles’ heel much? What did I just tell you about the whole Luca thing?’’ She chastises.‘’I thought that he would for sure eventually drop me.’’

‘’He would never do such a thing’’ Vincenzo answers matter-of-factly. ‘’For one, I would have to play my own few jabs at his Achilles’ heel - and well, for two, he is actually quite an exceptional ballroom dancer .’’

‘’Oh, that he is.’’ She sighs.

‘’Should I be jealous, Mrs. Cassano?’’.

‘’[...] When you call my name,

I can see the light

Guiding me home like the stars in the night[...].’’

For all their smugness, the little name still manages to send a matching flame down their spines.

‘’Should I be jealous Mr. Cassano?’’ she retorts, defiance clear in her eyes.

He snorts while her lips twitch in amusement - his glance consequently drifts, enraptured by the small action.

Giving is at this moment could be described as the very definition of inevitable.

He closes his eyes and drowns into her perfume - into her. Permitting that the same allure who brought him to her tempts them even closer.

‘’[...]I’ve already known

I’ve already known

I’m lost without your arms around me.’’

Head angled down, he closes the proximity to at last kiss her - wait - the feeling is not the one.

He abruptly opens his eyes and discovers himself to be kissing - her cheek. She only chuckles at his betrayed expression as they pull apart.

‘’Sorry, amore mio.’’ she says while cupping his cheek. ‘’But you simply can not miss this.’’ and turns his head to the right.

There, in the middle of the dancefloor, Park Suk-Do twisted and popped his limbs sharply -and surprisingly - in compliance with the beat, handstands and stretches matched some of the moves in a testimony of the man’s incomprehensible flexibility. Larry could be seen gaping at the man, utterly dumbfounded.

The sentiment was shared by anyone who had the privilege and perhaps misfortune of seeing the scene.

‘’Huh, I think we found ourselves another exceptional dancer.’’

‘’Why is he breakdancing in a slow song?’’ Vincenzo asks, slightly scandalized.

‘’I have no idea’’ she accentuates the phrase with bewilderment.

‘’It’s horrifying.’’

Cha-young tilts her head.

‘’I mean, it’s kind of impressive - I bet he could give Larry a run for his money.’’

‘’Don’t ever let him hear you say that.’’ Vincenzo turns to her.

‘’Never.’’ she responds with a beaming smile.

‘’there’s no one else I’ve got in this world.

How could I live without you

until the sun cools down we will love

Nothing can stop us, no one will hurt us

I will be forever in your arms’’.

‘’Do you look like this to all of your dance partners?.’’

‘’Yah! What kind of girl do you take me for?’’ Cha-young slaps his chest. ‘’I only do it to the extra handsome ones, naturally.’’ she finishes with a roll of her eyes.

He pushes her flush against him by the waist. She looks up at his face, expression unreadable. The scene distinctly resembles that night - a couple of lives ago - filled with makgeolli, denial and hand gripping withstand.

He holds her tighter at the memory.

‘’Mr. Cassano please refrain from impropriety in public.’’ She gasps dramatically.

He hums and brings his right hand to draw circles though the nape of her neck.

A groan escapes her lips. He smirks.

Her own Achilles’ heel.

‘’You know what they say, impropriety is the soul of wit.’’ he whispers slily.

Her nose scrunches up in a giggle.‘’That’s most definitely not the quote.’’

‘’I’m always by your side, my love.

And this love is entirely for you,

With you, from you.’’

The force of this woman - that has him foolish with love, weak at knees, all and none of what the poets would write about and sing. Broke down his stride and now has him broken at the most random times.

‘’Vieni qui, per favore’’ He pleads.

The saint grant his wish.

‘’I’m always by your side, my love

From now my everything’s for you,

with you, from you.’’

[hisbluemonarch]

A Bram Stoker night

Eve’s lips curled at both sides when the movie ended. Her favourite. Carved by the hand of the Bram Stoker book she had read over and over again. She turned her head shyly to the side to see Asa next to her on the sofa. He was close even though there was sufficient space for them both but she didn’t mind it in the slightest. He was quiet as always, just looking back at her, maybe even scanning her thoughts, which made starting a conversation even more difficult for the librarian. She wasn’t good at that but still tried with the enthusiasm of the shared moment:

“Have you found it enjoyable, Doctor?”

Asa took a second to appreciate the brightness in her eyes. How to catch a spirit.

“For the most part”.

“Oh”, Eve’s voice was so transparent that it wasn’t hard to notice her worry. “What was missing?”

“Science”, Asa let himself show a smirk. “I don’t think Van Helsing methods would be approved nowadays. But, who am I to judge about stakes in people’s bodies? Doesn’t seem to be my field”.

Eve let out a silent giggle. “I believe you are right, Doctor Emory. However, I’m sure the movie is intended to show the sacrifice true love requires”.

Oh? Please continue, butterfly.  

“To search for someone through oceans of time. To feel torn apart when you lose them. To be utterly in their hands, begging for them to take you to their darkness because you cannot stand to live in a sun field where they are not in it”.  

Asa smirked again, then purposefully shortened the distance even more so that both faces were separated just by mere centimeters. It was amusing how responsive she was, the redness on her cheeks quickly to show.

“I’m- I’m sorry, is this boring?”

“Not in the slightest, Eve”, he moved his index finger to tilt her chin up so that her anxious eyes making an effort to avoid him were forced to look into his.  

“My…”, Eve swallowed. The digit was already burning her skin but there was a universe full of new unnamed stars in the doctor’s gaze and she wondered if it was possible to get lost. “My favorite scene is precisely that one. When she- when she begs him to bite her so-so that they could… be together… for the end of times”.

“Hm”, Asa let out with just his exhalation, lips now a millimeter away from Eve’s mouth, his finger on the chin now changing into the gentlest grip he could elaborate for her jaw.

Eve felt about to explode with an unforgivable heartbeat. It was torturous to have him closer and closer yet she couldn’t move. Just like an insect knowing the spider is coming closer but still trapped in the web. This beautiful web of unspoken words.

“Did you find a favorite scene, Doctor?”, she asked with a shaky voice. It was silly but still pushed by her anxiety.

“I sure did”, Asa murmured and finally kissed her. Eve stood frozen for just a few seconds, brain trying to process the new reality of his wonderful, warm, sweet lips. It felt like tasting a forbidden apple, something too far away from her nature but still presented before her, tempting her to surrender. And she did, because her pale hands went for Asa’s face, caressing the contour of his cheeks as well as the strawberry hair. His gentleness quickly progressed into roughness gripping her tiny neck with a bit more strength yet still trying to control his urges not to scare her, conscious of the fragility of her wings.

However, Eve’s response was unexpected. His touch sent her to move her body close to his and increase the intensity of her kissing, needy whimpers escaping her nose working as traitors for Asa’s weight to push her to lie on the sofa. He stopped kissing her for a moment to look into her eyes once more, one hand exploring the side of her body and grabbing a hold on her hip, experimenting if she complained. She didn’t, her arms only strengthening their embrace around the doctor’s head, shyly pulling him closer.

Asa continued staying still, observing her gestures before letting out: “Ask me to bite you, Eve”.

Eve gasped. She though he was asking for consent and was fascinated by the idea of being bitten with love after Dracula. With a barely audible voice, she said: “Would you bite me, doctor?”.

That seemed to press a key of inner satisfaction for Asa. He moved to her neck, tantalizing her skin with kisses before front teeth and fangs bit the surface. Eve let out an unwilling moan. It felt tingly as well as the hand moving her dress upwards. Asa moved his lips to her ear to whisper: “Ask me to bite you again, Eve”.

“Would you bite me, doctor?” Eve asked and a moment later, her toes contracted at the increased intensity. It was slightly painful and full of warmth, not to mention the same hand caressing her inner thigh.

“Ask me again”, Asa let out with a groan.

It started to feel dangerous yet more than captivating. When she obeyed and he deliberately bit her this time, something was woken in her. Her hips moved up at the pain and a waterfall of whimpers and moans receive his fingers on her sex, allowing them to start tracing circles on her clit.

“Beg, Eve”. Asa demanded locking her into a trap of desire that went against her basic instincts.

“Would you bite me?”, was the best Eve could say this time and Asa went for the hearbeat in the crock of her neck biting it as if he could drink from her bloody heart. Eve whined, confused between the pleasure she was feeling between her legs and the pain he was inflicting. She tugged from his hair trying to alleviate it. Asa stopped all actions but just to grab her wrists and slowly moving them to lie on the sofa’s arm above her head, making her understand they were supposed to stay there.

“Doctor…”, she whimpered when his fingers masturbated her again; too many gasps to think properly.

“Shhh”, he hushed above her earlobe. “That’s not begging”.

“Please?”, Eve said not sure about what she was asking for.

He let out a silent chuckle. “That’s better”. He bit her again, drawing out a pair of blood drops that had her crying out.

Asa looked again into her eyes. Tears were threatening to spill from their corners but she was still immersed in the pleasurable friction. “You are so good for me, Eve”.

He didn’t want to break her yet but he wanted to show her the abyss. One day she was going to jump and fall into his claws. For now, he was just going to fuse with her carnally and conquer more of her delicious moans.

As long as she still kept saying “please”.  

[gucciwins]

Canyon Moon

Harry receives love letters and Y/N doesn’t love anyone more than she loves Harry.

Word count: 5685

A/N: I started this story three different times and the other two are sitting in my drafts unfinished. I had a vision for this and then as I was writing it would die. I was in a deep hole but I have made it out. Canyon Moon is special and I love her so much. Everyone give her some love, she is underappreciated. Thank you to @hsogolden​ for allowing me to partake in the #FineLineFicChallenge I love this story and I hope you do as well. 

Please let me know your thoughts

Hope you enjoy! xx

The sun was shining, and the neighbor’s kids Alex and Max were laughing as they rolled around in the grass together. Harry smiled, looking over at them as he made his way to his car. 

“Good morning Mr. Styles.”  

Harry turns around as he was opening his car door and as he hears someone approach and greet him. It's the mailman, Greg. He’s an older gentleman with a big friendly smile and kind brown eyes. 

“Morning, Greg,” Harry responds cheerfully. “How’s Irene, has she got the roses planted?”

“Oh, she’s doing well. She has a bit of a cough, but nothing a chamomile tea won’t heal. Our son came by and helped her. They are looking beautiful.” His smile is so bright.

“I’ve only got one piece of mail for you today; it seems,” Greg says, reminding Harry of the original reason for his visit. “Seems it came a long way.” 

At those few words, Harry’s green eyes light up. Greg knows it’s one full of love. Harry is given the letter but doesn’t look down at it until he bids Greg goodbye, and he’s sat in his car. 

Harry is quick to open the letter, not bothering to see who it’s from because he knows only one person that loves sending him letters. As he slips the letter out of the envelope, a picture falls on his lap. He doesn’t think twice and picks it up, turning it around. Harry smiles at the photo of a woman with her arms spread open wide sunflowers standing tall and beautiful behind her. That’s not the most beautiful thing in the picture, no it’s the smiling woman that makes Harry’s world turn. 

His lady is in Amsterdam; more specifically, she is at the Van Gogh Museum surrounded by sunflowers that don’t shine as bright as she does. Harry brings the photo to his lips and gives it a quick kiss. 

My darling Harry (I was tempted to say sunflower),

I’m in Amsterdam! It’s beautiful, and I am taking many pictures, don’t you worry. The camera you gifted me is helping tremendously; I didn’t realize how lousy my last one was. You always know best. I’m thankful for you, still. Why am I in Amsterdam, you are asking. Well, I’m here to write about the famous Van Gogh and the masterpieces he created because this will be going up on his birthday, but you already know that because you read all my writing. My biggest fan. I miss you. I know it’s my job, but it’s not easy missing you. I found this bakery it was amazing but nothing compared to you. If anything, it made me want to jump on a plane and have you bake me one of everything. Missing those famous cinnamon cookies right now. 

The sunflowers had me reminiscing. Do you remember our first date? I went to pick you up in my old beat-up car named Betty. I remember being nervous, walking up to your front door. I kept repeating in my head don’t trip as I was walking up the stairs. I knocked twice before I heard a loud thump, and you yell shit. It honestly calmed my nerves. Then they all came back when you opened the door and stood in front of me wearing a cashmere solar system sweater with black pants and beautiful boots. You looked out of this world (tell me you’re laughing reading that). Then you started turning red because you looked me up and down and saw me in black sweatpants and an old over sized red Malibu crew neck with beat-up old skool vans. “I’m pretty sure I told you to dress down because we were going to be painting.” Then you responded, “uhh...you make me nervous. I changed my outfit five times and forgot you told me how to dress.”

At that moment, I wanted to reach up to kiss you, but I felt that would have scared you off (I was wrong). Then I remembered I had something in my hand and immediately thrust my hand forward. I shoved sunflowers in your face, and your response was to hug me because no one had ever bought you flowers. We then proceeded to enjoy a fun painting date on the beach. You pointed out my moon in my painting of the ocean instead of the sun. You didn’t question it; you just told me it was beautiful. I know you remember all of this (at least I hope you do). I just miss you. It’s lonely, but I love my job. Remember, I love you more. I love you more than the moon loves coming out at night. I’ll be home soon, darling.

Love Y/N,

Your fiance xx

Harry smiled down at the letter and wiped his tears. These love letters kept him going and, for some reason, made your love even stronger. It was the best first date he had ever gone on. He knew at the end of the date that Y/N was the one for him. 

Harry is ready to go to work but has to let his lady know he received her letter. 

Amsterdam letter was a sweet treat this morning, won’t even need to have my morning danish. 

Well, I’m glad it made it to you safely. 

I do need you to eat a treat in my name. I’m missing out. 

I’ll have a scone in your honor. 

That’s a beautiful picture you sent. I can’t believe you were hiding that from me. 

Got to keep you on your toes ;)

I’m going to bed. I have an early flight tomorrow

Safe travels, my love. 

Thank you. I love you xx

I love you xx

Harry tucked his phone away and felt his heart tightening in his chest. He lets out a deep breath, knowing he needs to relax. Harry just misses her. It’s hard; her job keeps her away, but the good thing is Harry’s bakery keeps him busy. 

“Morning, boss, man!” Sarah greeted him as soon as he walked through the back door.

“Hello Sarah, what’s on the agenda today?”

Sarah picks up the paper in front of her and looks it over quickly. “Kevin’s dinosaur birthday cake. It’s a red velvet cake.” 

Harry nods. “I got it. Who’s mending the front today?” 

“Jimmy and Tam.” 

“Will you head out front during lunch rush?” Harry asks, knowing how busy they get because of their croissant special. 

“Of course.” 

Sarah looks over at Harry, who has a smile on his face as he hums along to the song playing from the speakers. 

“What’s got you so smiley?” Sarah finally asks.

Harry grins, not being able to stop himself from sharing. “I got a letter from my lady today, that’s all.” He says, trying to shrug it off. 

“You get those all the time!” She exclaims. “This was different, tell me why.”

 Harry stops gathering his ingredients and looks over at Sarah. “She retold the story of our first date. Told me little details I didn’t know.” He smiles, thinking back to the letter sitting in his car. “Reminded me of how far we’ve come.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet.” Charlotte butts in as she walks in, holding an empty box that she begins to fill with treats. From danishes to chocolate croissants. “Please let Y/N know I miss her and that she should stop eating pastries from all over the world. It hurts my feelings.”

Harry laughs. “I’ll be sure to let her know.” 

With the conversation, dwindling Harry gets to work because he knows he has a busy day ahead of him.

~ ~ ~

It's a Monday morning when Harry receives another letter. 

Harry rolls out of bed late after staying up, talking to his love for hours. If he had to choose between sleeping and talking to Y/N, then sleep be damned. She's met up with a friend from what she's told him. After leaving Paris, she found Alfie and decided to travel together since they happened to be going the same way. It comforted Harry, knowing she had a friend at her side, but he wished it was him instead. 

Harry made his morning tea and warmed himself a muffin. He was taking in the quiet of the house, and it reminds him of how much he hates it. He missed when Y/N would play music so loud he thought his eardrums might burst, also missed the smell of slightly over burnt pancakes, but most of all he missed her rolling over in bed and laying her head on his chest and softly tracing his swallow tattoos to wake him up from his sleep gently.  

Harry walks into the kitchen and makes breakfast. He's in the mood for pancakes and a good cup of coffee. As he waits for his coffee to cool a little, he steps outside to collect the mail. A grin spreads across his face as he takes a step inside, abandoning the light bill for the time as something far better has arrived. 

It's a little crumbled but no rips. The letter feels light in his palm but heavy in his heart for the words contained inside. There is an address from Paris under Y/N’s name. 

Hi darling, 

I'm in Paris sitting outside on the balcony and eating my weight in macaroons, and I feel sad. I look out and see how pretty the Eiffel tower shines at night and how you'd love to view it. I'm surprised we have never come to France together. What a shame. You would put the Eiffel Tower to shame with your beauty. Harry, I see the moon standing high and I tell her all my secrets. All the ones I want to say to you. I keep thinking back to a time under the canyon moon. I remember telling you how upset I could never see the stars and their constellations and learned all about them because if I couldn't see them, then at least I wanted to know all about them. Then two weeks later you rent out a big cabin up in the canyon of who knows where and you let me tell you all about the stars. Then you looked at me and said I shined brighter than all of them. All it took for me to say I love you. I'm still not sure if you cried, or it was the reflection on the stars in your eyes, but I swear your green eyes never shined brighter than they did that night under the canyon moon. I'm sorry, I'm not coming home yet, but I hope you know I never forget where my heart is. 

I love you xx 

Love,

Your future wife

Harry smiles down at his pancakes. That date was perfect. It was the one where Harry knew she was the woman he was going to marry. Harry thinks back to how open they both were that weekend together. Once he got back home after dropping her off, although he didn't want to say goodbye but had to because they both had to go to work, he called his mom. The conversation was Harry gushing about Y/N and how she was the one. He also let Anne know that she had a big sweet tooth, which was a big plus in his book. 

Harry wants to call Y/N, but she had let him know she would be busy the next following days but would text him when she could.

 It's moments like these where Harry wishes his love didn't have a job that kept her away. It's selfish of him to ask her to stay and give it up her dream job for him. He'd never forgive himself if she did it. 

Harry has never in his life been so conflicted. He wanted to be selfish, but he couldn't for the sake of her happiness, but what about his?

~ ~ ~

It's been a shitty day. Harry got to work late, and Charlotte wasn't able to come in because she was down with the flu. Sarah had the week off because she was in England attending a cousin's wedding. It was Javier, the newest employee and him against the world today. Harry hates to admit it but he felt everything he baked tasted and looked bad. It was so bad that he handled the register, and Javier was sent to the back and baked the day away. Harry decided to close two hours early because he was beat and he knew for a fact so was Javier. He sent Javier home with a box of pastries and 75% of today's tips that sadly wasn't much either.

Harry knew he needed to let off some steam and decided to go to his gym where he'd do some running, and if his trainer was there, then a bit of boxing as well. To Harry's luck, the gym closed because there happened to be a problem at the front desk that caused the entire gym to lose power. Harry went home upset and in need of cuddles. 

He wanted to talk to his love but honestly had no clue where she was or what time it could be. He hadn't made an effort to speak to her this past week, seeing as they got in an argument, and it was all his fault. He didn't expect it to escalate, but it seemed he had run short that day. 

He currently wasn't making an effort, and Y/N was. He was just acting like a dick because he was stuck in his head wishing he could hug her and apologize. She sent extra pictures of herself, sent more I love you texts. Heck, even Anne called him to let him know that she was getting loads of pictures and was worried about Y/N. Harry knew she was doing that because he wouldn't answer her texts, and she was close to spiraling. He knew today he would send her a long message begging for forgiveness. Then hopefully, she'd tell him a story, and he'd drift off to sleep to the voice of an angel.

Harry arrived home and wanted to head inside but made a stop at his mailbox. He placed the keys in the yellow bowl by the front door. He was about to drop the mail as well when a stamp caught his eye. It was an international stamp of the moon, and Harry knew one person who used those. He didn't bother checking the information and ripped it open.

I'm sorry.

I know when you get this, our fight will be water under the bridge. (this is me being optimistic) I didn't expect us to argue about my job, it's my love, and I worked hard to be where I am. I know it's my fault; it always seems to be my fault. I'm the one making you wait at home alone. I'm the one not offering any support. I might be doing you a favor if I walk away, but I'm selfish I could never let you go. I'd let you leave me, but I'd never push you away. You're my best friend. I know you're hurt but so am I. I promise harry, I'm almost home before you know it you'll want me gone by how much time we spend together and I never let you leave the house. It sounds perfect to me. Do you remember our first big fight? I'm not even sure what we were fighting about, but I was sure you were about to walk away from me, so I did it first. I ran out the door and sat in my car and cried. I didn't even have the power to drive away. (it was also my apartment I ran out of.) You stayed up there crying as well. I think I knew if I turned that car on and left you, it would be the end of us, and I wasn't ready for that. I took a deep breath and marched my way up to my apartment. You sat on the floor with your eyes closed — a picture of us in your lap. I remember taking a deep breath and walking towards you and held my hand out. I thought I had been holding it out for the longest time but was only ten seconds. You grabbed it and pulled yourself up; I remember the cold metal of your rings meeting my hand, and I just wanted to cry, but I also was a woman on a mission. I turned out the door, and you followed, holding my hand tighter. I walked up to the roof, never letting go of your hand. I laid down on the blanket that I had left there, and you followed. We laid their hand in hand for hours until you scooted over and put your head on my chest. I ran my fingers through your hair and just began to tell you all my useless science facts. Slowly we talked it out, and at that moment, I knew I could never let you go. You are the best thing in my life. 

I love you xx 

Sincerely,

A girl in love missing you like crazy

Harry finished reading and found himself against the door. He's so stupid, of course, she'd take the blame. She's excellent at pointing the blame to no one but herself. This was all him and he had been acting like a jerk. She had been looking for reassurance that they'd be fine, heck she believed they'd be alright by now. She believed in them, and Harry didn't believe in himself. 

Harry picked himself up and sat on the couch. He pulled his phone out, and without thinking twice, he clicked the call. It rang and rang and rang until it got to voicemail. He deserved that he felt. He tried again, and after the second ring, he heard a faint hello. 

"Hi, love," He whispers before speaking up. "It's Harry." 

He waited a few seconds and heard no response. "Lovie"

"Sorry, hi. I was sleeping, got out of bed, or I would have fallen back to sleep." She told him like it was normal for him to wake her in the middle of the night. "Are you okay, did something happen?" She panics quickly, knowing it must be a little late there. 

"Everything's fine, nothing to worry about. Well, everything is not fine, and gosh, I'm just frustrated, and it's all my fault." 

"Harry, baby!" She says a bit louder to stop him rambling. "Slow down; I'm not sure what's wrong. Help me understand so I can help you."

"I ignored you for no reason, besides not being able to get over my pride, and you sent me this beautiful letter." Harry takes a deep breath to stop his tears, but it's no use. "You say you're selfish and take all the blame, but we both know it was my fault. I keep pushing you about your job, but you never once said anything about mine, especially when I stay there for hours, perfecting a recipe and standing you up."

"You make it up to me by bringing me sweets" She decides to input, hoping it will get a laugh out of him.

"I'm serious!"

"As am I, Harry." He hears the frustration in her voice. "I've missed too many date nights. You stay home or you state late at the bakery. You don't go out as often with your friends because everyone is always with their partners. It's killing me that you're unhappy."

"Stop," Harry begs, afraid of where this conversation could go.

"Am I selfish, Harry?" She dares to ask. "I want you, but I also want my job, but I fear there might come a time where I might have neither."

"I swear I will always be here. Look down at the ring I gave you." Harry wipes his nose softly. "It's a promise of forever. A forever I only want with you."

She doesn't answer, but Harry knows this is forgiveness. 

"Is this part of our forever?" She questions. 

"It is, a forever, we'll tell our children and grandchildren about."

Harry goes quiet, and so does Y/N. They bask in the quietness and hold on tight to the future they have together.

"I'll be home soon, darling," She promises. "I love you."

"I love you."

~ ~ ~

Harry! Darling!

I just had the best phone call! I am amazed and shocked. Oh, honey, I forgot to mention I’m in Rome. You know how much I love it here. I swear I still want to marry you in Italy. (Please think about it.) I had the pleasure of going to this gallery opening for this artist who’s making his significant return, and it was beautiful. His work, I feel, speaks to you. He’s also very handsome but don’t worry he is also very much taken. (no one ever looks as good as you do) I didn’t get the chance to speak with him because he doesn't like interviews, but I got on well with his girlfriend, who I chatted up because of a painting he did of the night sky in Italy with a big moon and girl looking at it from her balcony. I asked how much, but it’s not for sale. (bummer, think it might be special to them). Darling, I’m coming home. Soon I promise. Before you know it, I'll be running into your arms at the airport, and I won't even care about the PDA. I miss you. Say hi to Sarah and Lottie for me (winky face).

I love you xx

Sincerely,

Your love

Harry laughs out loud in the middle of reading the letter. She says the craziest things, and sometimes he is crazy enough to follow along. Getting married in Italy sounds like a great idea, also a bit impulsive. His mom wouldn’t be opposed, but he knows her parents would be. 

Harry reads it over and is surprised to see that she didn’t address what the phone call was on. I guess he would have to ask her during their next phone call. 

Harry arrives at his bakery and smiles at Sarah, chatting up the regular Mitch. Harry knows she tries her best to get him to crack a smile or laugh at a joke, but he never does. At least to Sarah's knowledge, he doesn’t. Harry has seen him smile down at his drink every time she turns around or walks toward the back. Harry knows it's only a matter of time before Mitch cracks and allows himself to pursue the baker. 

Sarah approaches Harry with a smirk on her face. He looks away and walks away from her. 

“Harry, I haven’t even said anything yet.” She gasps in disbelief.

“You act as if I haven’t known you for years.”

“This has to do with-” Harry is quick to interrupt her.

“Nope, if you talk about her, I won’t get any work done, and it’s about time I go sign some checks.” 

“This is important!” She yells.

“If it’s important, she’ll let me know.” 

Harry shuts his office door and gets to work because this paperwork that was piling up was not going to do itself.

~ ~ ~

I'm going home. 

I'm not sure when you’re receiving this, but I’m waiting for the phone call that follows because this is the first you hear about it. I'm estimating it to be a week from when I sent it so I should be home in two weeks. That’s crazy, just know I'm crying as I think about it because I can’t wait to feel those strong arms wrapped around me. I can't wait to have you naked for the next few days (wow! I really wrote that) I can't wait to visit the bakery and eat everything you’ve been making. I swear if I come home to a bunch of people in our home because you wanted a welcome home party, I will drive myself back to the airport and get on the next flight out of there. I just want you in your birthday suit and the bed (the wall or couch is fine if we don’t make it).

I'm going home. 

Sincerely,

(soon to be) Mrs. Styles 

~ ~ ~

Five days.

Harry has to hold on for five days; then, he’ll get to see his love. 

When Harry got the letter, he stood there in shock, reading it over and over again. Once he read it for the ninth time, he set it down on the kitchen counter and rang the person who was causing him to feel like his heart would beat out of his chest. 

Harry spent the first ten minutes, crying asking Y/N if she was serious. He knew the trip should have been about a whole month longer. The rest of the call was spent each in their separate beds, no clothes, lots of filthy talking, and sweet, beautiful moans that neither of them wanted the moment to end. 

Harry was very distracted at work. He put salt in the flour for cupcakes instead of sugar. Thankfully, Charlotte caught that, or it would have been much worse later. Sarah tried her best to convince him to go home and relax, but Harry knew if he did, he would go crazy. The result being Harry was allowed to knead the dough and do paperwork in his office.  

Today, he would be doing more paperwork because it was necessary when running his own business, he just didn’t believe it when many people told him about it. Harry enjoyed it for some strange reason.

Harry stopped in front of the back door and admired the light blue color he was convinced to paint by no other than Y/N. The hand prints make him smile. His employees put their hands all around. When first painting, he just wanted to add some color to it, but she argued they needed a little more. She grabbed the yellow paint and opened it carefully. She pushed it towards Harry, gesturing him to put his hand in. He does so no questions asked, then she guides it to the middle of the door and puts pressure on it. He pulls away and smiles at his long fingers. Harry grabs her hand gently places a kiss on her knuckles then dips it into the paint. He brings her hand very close to his print and presses it against the door. It’s sweet and loves that Javi, Lottie, Jimmy, Tam and Sarah have theirs on as well, it signifies his family here at his bakery. 

Everything reminds him of her, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Harry enters and finds out he is locked out of his office, which is weird because it locks from the inside. A note slides out from under reading H, head to the place where we first said I love you. Harry knows it’s from her, but why would she send him up there. She is not supposed to be home until five days from now, so what exactly can she be planning; nevertheless, Harry leaves knowing Sarah will take care of the bakery and sets off to the canyon. 

~ ~ ~

Harry makes it to the small cabin he rented for the weekend they spent at the beginning of their relationship. He turned the note over, and it gave him this exact location. The sun is beginning to set, and it paints a beautiful picture one he wishes he could paint if only he were a good artist. 

He walks to the front door and finds another note. It says, Head to where we looked at the stars. He rounds the house and makes his way to the large backyard that has a beautiful ocean and mountain views. From a distance, he makes out a large red blanket surrounded by too many pillows. Harry could dive right on top and have a soft landing. Harry sees a small picnic basket and another note on top. Before he can read it, a song he’s never heard starts to play. It makes him smile because he may not know the song, but Y/N does, although she denies it; he always sees her singing along to these unknown songs.

“How about a picnic.” 

Harry turns around quickly and stares. He looks at her in disbelief. 

She’s here. 

She stands there wearing black sweats, a plain white t-shirt that most likely is his and worn-out white vans. 

Harry’s green eyes scanned her up and down his mind not believing she was there. Harry is quick to notice he’s crying when he blinks and feels water run down his chin. 

“I was hoping for a hug or a kiss, but staring is also acceptable.” Y/N jokes. 

Harry breaks out of his trance and runs up to her. He cups her face gently with both hands and holds her close. It’s pleasant and calming, finally being together after being apart. He opens his mouth to say something but closes it just as quickly. Instead, he leans down and connects his lips with hers.

It’s two missing puzzle pieces coming together to become one. 

“I love this welcome!” She says with a massive smile on her face. 

“You’re here.” His first words to you. “Five days early.” 

“Well...I’m right on time. My letter arrived to you a week later than I expected. You were excited and told me you were counting down the days and booked the whole week for us. I couldn’t crush your excitement even if it were to tell you I’d be home sooner.” She explains. 

“I’m very much surprised, but I don’t have the week off.” He pouts. 

“You do!” She assures him. “I went in this morning and worked everything out with Sarah. She’s got a soft spot for me. No one seemed to mind you’d be away for two weeks. Said it would be good for you.” 

“You’re sneaky” He laughs. “I love it.” He kisses her cheeks repeatedly.

She gasps and slaps his shoulder lightly. “Why did I have to find out with Lottie that Mitch and Sarah are finally dating?” 

Harry stares at her, confused. “Catch me up; last; I knew he was still pining for her from afar.” 

She shakes her head, no. “No, they looked really cozy this morning like a long hug and a kiss on the cheek.” Y/N sighs dramatically. “I wish I had a chance to ask her, but that can wait.”

Y/N pulled away from the embrace and walked towards the blanket. “Come on, darling.” She looks at him from over her shoulder. “I’ve got lots of kisses to make up for.”

Harry hums in agreement. “Something else you need to make up for that requires little to no clothing.”

Y/N laughs and squeezes the hand she’s holding. “All in good time.” 

Harry lays down first and sighs over how comfortable it is. Y/N is quick to follow, and Harry pulls her close and gently rests her head on his chest.

“When I arrived here, I thought you were going to have me stay here for the next few days alone until someone would arrive and murder me.” Harry shares with a small laugh.

“A bit dark, my darling.” She shakes her head at his thoughts. “I was thinking of having you arrive, and the whole thing would have been filled with guests and food for our wedding, and you’d have to marry me instead of waiting until autumn of this year, but I thought it would give you a heart attack.”

Harry’s heart starts beating faster. “You would have married me today,” Harry states, confusion in his voice. 

“Today, tomorrow, yesterday. I’m ready to become your wife.” She sits up. “I’m ready to settle down, finally get that cat or dog that we’ve been dying to get.” She looks up to the stars and smiles. “It’s time we really focus on us and move forward.”

“We’ve always been moving forward.” Harry is sitting up now, confused, and concerned. 

Y/N moves and sits on his lap. She cups his face gently and smiles at the beautiful face she had to look at from a phone screen for too long. 

“We’d stop moving when I’d go away to travel and do my writing. It might not have felt like it, but it truly did. We’d have movie dates through a computer screen, and it’s not the same as being together cuddled on our couch because I can’t hear your slow chewing so you don’t miss something important or when I give you massages because the bakery has been crazy. We-I deprived us of the little things in our relationship, so I felt it was right. I took our future back into our hands and we can move forward together.” Y/N grabs his left hand and strokes his ring finger where one specific ring should be. “I’m done traveling. I got a new job. I’m starting this autumn. I promise the only traveling I will do is with you by my side.”

“You quit traveling and being a journalist for me.” 

“I mean yeah, Professor Styles has a nice ring to it, don’t you think.” Y/N is laughing at how in shock Harry is. “Did you think I would spend the rest of my life traveling?”

He nods his head and hugs you tight. 

“My darling, my place in this world is right next to you.” 

He grabs her chin and guides her face to his. “I love you,” he whispers against her lips, before closing the distance between them and giving her a soft kiss. 

Y/N and Harry didn’t expect to make it work when they first got together because they were on two different paths, but through the guidance of the canyon moon, together they would go on to live a life full of joy, laughter and the driving force of it all, love. 

 ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading! Come talk to me about Canyon Moon here

Happy Birthday Harry  🌙

[brideofcthulhu10]

I know I ask alot but could you do a story about the reader getting kidnapped and being held hostage against the boys as black mail or something and the boys coming to save them.

Don't even worry about it! I don't want any of you to feel guilty about multiple asks, there are no limits! Ask as much as you want.

So this is a bit rough, but I will defend my portrayal of the Frog Brothers. Remember they were willing to stake Star and Laddie TWICE, even when they were helping them, just because they were half vampires. A girl and a little boy were still a threat. With that being said, I hope you still enjoy

Taken from Your Bed

Fem!Reader x Poly! Lost Boys

CONTENT WARNING: Blood, Gore, Offensive Language, Subjects of Torture

The idea of a polyamorous relationship was something you had never considered in 17 years of living. The whole idea sounded so complex, sharing someone you loved with multiple people, or multiple people sharing and loving you? It just sounded like a huge mess.

 But when it came down to it, you could never choose between the beautiful vampires that had become absolutely smitten with you. What had started as a summertime time fling with the youngest and most perfect glam rocker, Paul, had evolved into a blossoming romance with his brothers. Late summer nights of riding through wind-warped beach dunes and cool morning naps were your new life. Your house had never really felt like a home even before you were coaxed into the arms of your blood sucking princes, and soon you just stopped coming back. Honestly they didn't even look for you. You'd be eighteen soon, you had graduated early from high school, there wasn't exactly much else to be done. It wasn't a surprise that your family was indifferent, you always questioned whether or not your parents had even wanted children. So, in the dark of the night they swooped in, liberating them of your belongings, and your presence. No note, no farewell, just an empty room with empty drawers.

Some days it would depress you. The subtle rejection hurt, but those days never lasted long. Any signs of tears and they'd be piling on you with a plethora of love. Paul would always remind you it didn't matter. You were with them now! Anyone else can burn in hell. The old cove where Star had slept was made up for you. They were more than happy to trash anything belonging to that treacherous girl. Battery powered fairy lights were hung across worn wooden bed posts, streams of colorful curtains kept you well shielded from any intruders, a mountain of stuffed toys from various trips to the boardwalk decorated the floor and your bed. They even managed to dig up a dusty old dresser for you clothes, and amongst your glamourous new cave dwelling, more often than not at least one of the boys would share the bed with you. On special occasions they'd all fall asleep with you in the middle between piles of plushies and pillows. Each one loved to spend time with you on and off the boardwalk. 

Marko was up for absolutely anything as long as he could be with you. You'd read out chapters of The Outsiders while he burrowed in your lap, just entranced by your soothing voice. He'd beg you to sing to him, just to get a glimpse of what that entailed. You could sound like a dying seagull and he'd still call it a serenade. On lazy days he would let you practice painting his nails when you got bored, or brush his hair. That was his favorite. Paul would whine that he wants his hair brushed too, only for David to interject that it's his turn next. Yes, even David loves having your attention on him. When you aren't sitting pretty in his lap, he's laying lazily against you while you run your fingers through snowy blonde hair. If you get him relaxed enough he'll let out a low, growling hum. You started calling it a sleepy bear sound. Your time with David was often mellow, wrapped in his arms while he read. Eventually you'd grow curious and peek at the pages, asking him to read out loud. "Only for you kitten." He'd whisper.

Dwayne could braid your hair for hours, telling you old stories his granny would tell him passed on from centuries. Your favorite is the wendigo, the story of settlers driven to cannibalism after being trapped in a cruel winter, doomed to roam as superhuman beasts. It makes you wonder if what they had seen were ancient vampires? He'd chuckled, throwing in a casual "maybe" then ask if you wanted feathers woven in your hair as well. Uh, yes please! Dwayne always made sure you were taking care of yourself. If you hadn't eaten that day it was suddenly top priority. He'll remind you the importance of 7 cups of water a day, plenty of rest- until you point out he does none of that. He'd then argue he's undead, that doesn't count. 

When Paul had his turn he'd be ecstatic. You'd both head bang to blasting music off the rock box, fix each other's hair in wild teased messes, sneak in a bit of heavy petting. Watching tv became a staple thanks to some rusty generator you "found" on a fisherman's boat after he… disappeared under mysterious circumstances. With a bowl of popcorn he'll pop in a scary movie, savoring those jumps that made you hide in his chest. It was too adorable! As soon as the other boys saw you two watching a film they'd all join and Paul would huff about his private time being commandeered. 

Even with all of this, you had still decided to remain human much to their dismay. It wasn't that you didn't want to be a vampire. But after the Frog Brothers nearly wiped them out, the boys needed someone to be a daytime watch guard. You weren't supposed to fight anyone, just raise an alarm if there were trespassers. The thought of that made you pout. It's not like you couldn't handle yourself. Sure you weren't Bruce Li, but you had a few street brawl victories under your belt. You could certainly handle those Frog dorks.

 Or so you had thought. 

That night you were absolutely positive no one had seen you, you certainly weren't supposed to be seen. It was 4:35 am, almost the entire boardwalk was scattered by now with most of the families long gone home. The lights were being shut off, rides had been closed hours ago. Only a few party animal adults still lingered at the bars making last calls, lazily returning to their beds after a draining night. A dense fog had started to roll in, coating the moon and beach in a haze. The foreboding swoon promised possible rain the following day. Taking advantage of the ethereal beauty the night was, you had lured two absolutely wasted surfer guys that had been stumbling across the boardwalk now eagerly following you through the misty sands expecting a night of thrills once you reached the caves. Calmly humming, you dragged your toes over the damp sands while wisps of ocean waves tempted to reach your feet. At the last stretch you waded through the shallows, cautiously climbing up onto slick mossy rocks when you reached the mouth of the cave. "C'mon boys. My friends are just dying to meet you," you purred. 

The high fives and penis innuendos were short lived when a flurry of dark figures swooped them into the air. You simply say atop the wet rocks with your knees delicately held against your chest. The screams and gurgled cries were lost to the ocean, and soon a familiar face poked from above looking into the cave. 

"Peek-a-boo," Marko teased, hanging off the roof of the cave before swinging next to you. "Have I ever told you, you have awesome taste in meals for a human?"

"Is that you, or the boozey blood talking," you asked with a giggle, smearing the blood off his cheeks to steal a quick kiss.

"Bow don't go taking all of her, Marko." You looked up, watching David swoop in coated in bloody stains with Paul and Dwayne trailing behind. 

"Sorry I could only bring you five people tonight guys, the fog coming in scared off whatever was left on the boardwalk. I barely caught those last two leaving the bar."

"Don't even kitty-cat, you already brought us way more than we expected," Paul protested, hanging on your shoulders from behind. 

Dwayne nodded, still leaning up against the soggy cave. "Five is enough to keep us full, princess, you did plenty." 

So with another successful night of feeding the boys were left ready to rest as 5 am rolled around. The sun tempted to rise before they had reached the cave, the boys slipping away to their dark hovel after giving you a mess of good night, or rather, good morning kisses. Although you often went to bed shortly after a night out, this morning you felt a surge of energy keeping you up. Thankfully it was a gloomy grey sky, causing minimal sunlight to burst through the slivers and cracks leaving the possibility still open that one of them would come to sleep beside you. Until then you chiseled away the boredom with a pair of headphones and a pile of comic books, flipping through the pages with eager anticipation for the next scene. Two hours barely dragged by, leaving you rolling over your bed in misery. Staring at the ceiling you debated sneaking into the cave. Maybe drag a blanket and a pillow, cuddle up on the ledge.. and then David would give you an earful for not only sleeping where you could fall but climbing through the tunnels. Oh well. It was only- 7:30 am. Perhaps you should spend the day out? But, something felt off. 

You sat up, pulling off your headphones trying to listen for anything out of the ordinary. There was a disturbing still to the room, even the ocean sounded distant.

 Then without warning, a firm hand clamped over your mouth from behind. You tried to wildly thrash and scream, but the sounds were heavily muffled under the thick layers of a towel. There seemed to be another who was running in front of you to grab at your wild legs still getting in every possible hit you could. They were whisper-yelling, demanding you keep your voice down. To hell with that! You managed to kick one in the face! The struggle dragged out for easily five minutes by this point. It always seemed to work faster in fiction, instead it dragged out for what felt like forever. The scent burned your lungs, it was getting harder to breathe, your resistance wavered as the drag of exhaustion continued to claw at your eyes. Your violent thrashing became a few heavy swings of your shoulders, until you could barely move anymore. It was impossible to fight the monstrous sleep they forced you into. Your body dropped into unconsciousness, finally able to breathe as you slipped away in the darkness.

Marko stirred in his sleep, swearing he could hear you screaming just outside. It wasn't until he opened his eyes that he was able to relax. Quiet as the day is long. It must've been his imagination. 

Flutters of light faded in and out of your peripheral vision. The more you saw, the more you heard. Two grumbling voices bickering back and forth. 

"- I say we should just ice her now!"

"Not until we can smoke the rest of 'em out! A vampire rarely travels alone these days! The rest of them won't kill us as long as we have her!"

A verbal groan alerted their attention towards you as you shifted in place. It was still daytime, maybe mid afternoon? You honestly couldn't tell. When you tried to sit up you felt a sharp, worn resistance that kept your arms firmly in place. The rope rubbed your wrists raw. Your boots couldn't get any traction on the floor, it was covered in dust and old hay. Finally you were able to see those responsible for your capture. 

"Oh you have got to be kidding," you announced, glaring at the two camo-clad brothers posing like suburban commandos. This was some old dusty barn, and you were kidnapped by the self proclaimed vampire hunters of Santa Carla, the Frog Brothers, Edgar and Allan. Typical.

"So, you guys have gone from murder to kidnapping. Well, I guess that's progress."

"The only murderer here is you, blood sucker," Edgar gruffly retorted, pointing a freshly sharpened stake in your face.

"Vampire? I'm in the sun you idiot!"

"We all know about you half bloods being in sunlight, you can't fool us." You didn't even realize the tall one spoke. His sneering upper lip wouldn't cease to display the disgust he held against you. 

"You two must be sniffing too much old newsprint," you snorted. "There's no such thing as vampires."

That's when Edgar got close, tilting your chin up with the stake. "We saw you drawing those civilians to the cave for your little monster buddies." 

His words hit you heavily. You were certain you had been careful, utterly positive. Instead not only had you been tailed, you had exposed the boys to a group of radical nutcases ready to kill. Now it was personal. Steeling your resolve, you took in a deep breath. "So what?"

Allan yanked you by your shirt, looking back into your eyes with his own hate. "Where are the others," he hissed. 

With everything you had you tilted your head back and bashed your forehead against his. The force made your ears ring. They always did it in the movies, but no one ever said just how much it hurt. There was a dull sting where your skull had taken the brunt end of the attack while it traveled all the way to the back, a small trickle of what you could only assume was blood dripping off your forehead. Meanwhile the teen had fallen onto his back atop the filthy floor still grasping his forehead with a groan, Edgar jumping up over Allan ready to drive that stake into your heart. 

"No!" Allan grabbed his brother by his shirt, just before it came inches to your heart. "We need her alive… for now."

With a smirk you sloshed around the spit in your mouth. As soon as Edgar turned to face you, you sent the congealed saliva in a forceful blast across. Direct hit. Edgar wiped away the disgusting phlegm off his eyes and in his rage quickly uncapped a bottle of holy water. Yes, a full water bottle of it, and doused you in it. 

Great. Now you were tied up. bleeding, AND WET. You gave them a disinterested glare, cocking an eyebrow. "So, again, not a vampire. Believe me now?"

The two looked at each other and quickly huddled. They would mutter amongst themselves, occasionally peeking above to glare at you and your rolling eyes. Alright, so you were human. Even a head vampire couldn't be out in daylight, and half vampires couldn't handle holy water. But in a way that only made it worse! A living servant of the undead, a spy to lure helpless victims into their grasp, a caretaker of evil! A traitor to your own kind! That settled it then.

Groaning even grew tiresome by this point. You tried to wiggle out of your crude bonds, but you had to give them some semblance of credit, this was a damn good knot!

"Alright," Edgar boomed, catching you off guard. "You may be a human, but any ally of the undead is still an enemy, and we're not showing you an ounce of mercy!"

Allan nodded, and suddenly the atmosphere took a turn for gloomy. He watched with disinterest as you tried to wedge your heel into the ground to scoot away from them but it seemed to have no use. The struggle had you thrashing until you lost balance, flopping over on your side. He stomped over and wrenched you up by your shirt, this time keeping a cautious distance from your head.

 "If they're keeping you alive.. they must think you have some sort of value." Alan finally knelt down to your level with your shirt still clutched in his left hand, brandishing a hunting knife with the right. The glint of it shined in your eyes in a cruel afternoon glow. In its looming reflective surface you could see your own e/c eyes as wide as saucers. They didn't see you as human. You were an ally of their greatest enemy, just as "evil" as the vampires they were so determined to hunt. Being human was no longer a bargaining chip to prevent injury. "Call to them."

Your teeth ground until they hurt, jaw locked in place. "Go to fucking hell," you hiss. 

Before you could land another blow to Allan's smug face, Edgar had grabbed you from behind to keep you in place. The blade lightly caressed the flesh of your upper arm, catching the folds of your skin leaving tiny knicks. It tempted the surface to break beneath it's cruel will as Allan repeated his command through gritted teeth. "Call. Them."

Threats of torture weren't enough to break your silence. Fine, so be it. The tip dug into your arm, skin peeling away in a stream of ruby leaving a trail behind. You sucked in a sharp hiss, but bit on your tongue before you could yelp.There was no way you'd let them get to the boys. If you had to die so they could live, so be it. You wouldn't let out so much as a whimper. Do your worst.

Late afternoon dragged out, clinging tightly to every ticking second until the sun gave way under its own weary weight. The moment night lifted, crowing hoots echoed the cave. Freedom at last! Paul swung out of the cave brimming with excitement, Dwayne flying out behind him and crashing onto a couch leaving a cloud of dust for him to sneeze out. David was the last to waltz out, looking towards your corner. Odd. You were usually the first up to greet them. It'd become almost expected by this point. Sensing David's confusion along with his own, Marko gleefully jumped down from the rafters over debris to reach your bed. Someone was certainly sleeping in!

"Y/N? C'mon baby girl, wake up! Time for..," he paused, pulling away the curtains to find your bed a disheveled mess. Your cassette tape had been eaten to shreds by your portable player, magazines and books thrown on the floor, wads of sheets kicked off topped by discarded plushies. "Guys, c'mere!"

Dwayne quickly jumped up, expecting you to be snuggled in bed like a baby bird in its nest. Instead he stood beside Marko and looked past the curtains at the disarray your little corner had become.

 "Since when does Y/N go out this late at night," Paul questioned from behind the two. Whoa, did a tornado come through here? He hopped over, pulling the trashed tape from your player. 

"She doesn't," David said slowly, a flood of concern spilling into his head. Fully pushing the curtains away they all stepped in, looking for any sign of where you had gone.

Paul managed to wedge out the mess of black threading and plastic, getting a good look at what you had been listening to. Def Leppard's Hysteria Album. He had scrounged up some dough a few months ago for your birthday, you guys spent the whole weekend listening to it. For some reason you liked their gifts even more when they didn't just steal them. This was your favorite thing from him.. you'd never just leave it in the player to get trashed. "Dude what happened here?"

 David lifted your blankets, noticing an unfamiliar scent intruding over your delicate aroma. Someone else had been here. Someone who shouldn't have been here.

Marko was able to catch whiff of a gnarly chemical scent, bitter. Crouching down, it was almost missed. Amongst your belongings was an unfamiliar towel stained with some sort of fluid. Peeling the soggy rag off the ground he took a whiff and immediately scrunched up his nose. "Hey, David, man. Smell this. Is it familiar?"

David caught the drenched towel tossed his way and barely had to smell it to recognize the stench. Throwing it down he began storming out, standing in the center of the room trying to listen for your heartbeat. None. 

"What is it? Where is she," Paul demanded. This was getting to be too much. 

"This isn't a coincidence boys," David hissed, looking their way. "Someone took Y/N. That rag was drenched in some sort of concentrated chemical."

The boys grew solemn, David's words setting into each of them. Paul was enraged, already his red eyes seeping through. How dare anyone take you from him! He'll rip them apart!

Marko's silence held a cruel storm ready to burst, biting on his thumb to stifle any unsteady rage. All he could picture were horrid images of you being hurt. Fear and guilt overwhelmed him. That wasn't a dream, he really had heard you earlier crying for help. The shame of it made him clench his eyes shut. A cacophony of blame riddled his heart knowing you had been taken just beneath their noses. He shouldn't have left you alone, he should have checked on you the moment he thought something was wrong!

Dwayne stood in silence, slamming his fist against the wall. Crumbles of concrete dusted his busted knuckles that quickly healed in place. You were supposed to be theirs, and he failed to protect you! "We have to find her," he choked out, pushing a mess of black hair from his furrowed brow. The not knowing was killing him. It was killing all of them. You weren't just missing, you were stolen while they slept only feet away. 

Even David felt an internal rage unlike anything he'd felt before, not only at the perpetrators, but at himself. A beast among men, eternal life with a bounty of strength worth a thousand. What fucking good was it when while he slept you were torn from your bed? But another thought sat heavy in his heart. Their hearing was impeccable, damn near perfect. Why hadn't you called them? A scream, a cry would be enough! He began to march over to your bed again, but a new perspective had just granted him a moment of clarity. Hidden just under your blankets was a broken strip of red cloth one could only assume was a headband. Clasped tightly in vengeful fists, David's eyes turned bloodshot. He knew exactly who took you. 

You weren't even sure how many hours had gone by at this point. The brother's grew restless at your resolve. While they regrouped in the corner to reevaluate their plan, you had found a nail jutting out from the floorboards to scrape your ankles on, slowly sawing away the worn rope that kept your legs together. Any movement stung. Cuts decorated up your exposed thighs and arms. Fresh blood caked over dried wounds, dirt became mud by this point from the excessive wounds and had smeared up your legs. They had conflicting feelings about throwing any swings your way. You were surprised to hear Edgar verbally voice his hesitations regarding unleashing a blow on a girl. Allan stepped in, but came to the same conclusion that he couldn't hit you. Well, after four good catches to your face. Utterly moronic, a knife was far more painful. Perhaps it gave them some sort of distance from you, punching was just too personal. Still, your busted lip was not appreciative of the last minute sentiment. Part of you wanted to mock them. If you're going to kidnap and torture someone go all the way at least, don't puss out half way through. But, you had other plans. You rapidly ran the rope across the nail while they bickered back and forth, nearly there.. and then you heard a massive thud land on the roof. 

No. No not yet. You quickly dragged your feet as fast as you could while the brothers flew into a panic. But now your feet were free. Using your knees you hoisted yourself up to the nail, rapidly dragging your arms across to saw the straw away. Edgar and Allan began checking each other for weapons, and right as the rammed into the door again your wrists came free. Right!

You dashed for the brothers, snatching the bottles of water and dumping out every drop into the ground. They ran to grab you as you tried to bolt out the door, almost able to see Marko in the air above when suddenly someone had grabbed a fistful of your hair. That was enough to make you scream. A chunk was ripped from your scalp, the rest still tightly grasped in Edgar's fist. 

David watched you bolt out the rickety old barn, ready to fly down to you until they caught you in their grasp. Paul didn't even hesitate once they snatched you back, that is until he caught sight of a shimmering glare wedged tightly against your throat. 

"Get back," Edgar demanded, twisting your arm. The pain rang up through your back to the point you feared your shoulder was being pulled out of place. Your breathing began to become shallow when something cold slid on your throat, Edgar's free hand pressing the blade to your throat so tightly a thin line formed beneath it. 

"You're fucking dead, you little shit," Marko hissed, jumping off the tin roof. 

"M-Marko," you whimpered. You didn't dare move an inch. 

"Back off death breath! Or your little pet becomes your next meal!"

With that warning Edgar tilted the blade just beneath your chin. 

You tried to pull your head back to keep your distance from the foreboding piece, looking at Marko with fear. 

"I'm sorry…"

Marko took a step back, unsure of how to approach this. Any moves he made could result in you being taken. He could see the barrage of wounds coating your skin. It made his shoulders shake, just aching to rip this punk's head off. 

From inside the barn Dwayne hovered over the rafters, shattering the bulb that provided the only light in the room. Left in the dark, Allan grasped at the wooden stake in his hand. He could hear Dwayne rapidly flying through the barn, but he could never move fast enough to see him. "Come out you coward!" 

Allan's scream alerted Edgar to his brother, turning his head just soon enough to watch him bled dry. Dwayne pried his fangs from the limp teen with a disgusted snarl in the dark, chucking the corpse at his brother's feet.

"NOOOOO!"

You took the chaos as an opportunity to escape, knocking his hand off of you and trying to bolt forward. Paul flew to snatch you, his hands tightly wrapped around yours when he heard the most hideous sound. Flesh tearing, bones cracking under the pressure with squelches of blood pittering down into the ground. His fingers trembled watching your delicate face drop in horror.

Edgar stood behind, only seeing the red of his rage as he drive the knife further into the small of your back. "Die you witch bitch!"

Those were his last words as David jutted his hand through Edgar's chest. You screamed in horror watching Edgar barely have a reaction to his own heart being held outside his body, collapsing into a hollow husk of flesh. What air you had was rapidly escaping your lungs, falling in a cascade into Paul's arms. 

"No, no no! Y/N!" He dropped to his knees, holding you tightly against him. David knelt down beside you two, Marko running and skidding on his knees beside you while Dwayne leaned over you. They were all holding back tears, David's hand brushing over the hilt of the knife still jutting out. 

"I'm so sorry," you hiccups between tears, fingers tangled in Paul's jacket. "I co-couldn't… let them g-get you."

Marko shushed you, running his fingers through your hair. "Its okay baby girl, we know. Just hang on, okay?"

David wedged you into a sitting position onto his knees, looking at Paul. "As soon as I pull," he began, pushing your hair away from your neck ", you bite."

The suggestion sent chills through you. "B-but.."

"Y/N, kitten, it's right through your lumbar artery," David whispered softly, lightly tapping the hilt with his gloved hand sending a dull pain through your entire back. "This has gotta come out. But when I pull it out, you could bleed to death."

"Please don't leave us, baby girl." Marko held your hand, looking at you in fear. He wasn't ready to lose you. None of them were. If you had to turn to stay with them, they'd do it in a heartbeat. 

With a slow breath in, you hugged yourself against David and closed your eyes. Paul moved beside your neck as instructed, but Dwayne and Marko each took one of your wrists in their grasp. They all wanted to turn you. "O..okay.. d-do it.."

David kissed your cheek softly, clutching his hand around the knife. It hardly put up any resistance against his vampiric strength. You, on the other hand, couldn't help but cry out. Tears flooded your face, nails dragging against David's jacket. When they could see the tip of the blade surface, Paul dove his fangs into your shoulder. David bit into the left side of your neck, while Marko and Dwayne tore into your wrists. What should take hours only took moments. 

Marko held onto you, closing his eyes tightly trying to muscle through your agonized cries before pulling his mouth off. Tears spilled from Paul's eyes, tearing away before he lost control. The taste of your bittersweet blood lingered on his tongue. Dwayne and David held you in place, and finally you had felt your heart stall, then stop. 

You didn't need to catch your breath anymore, there was no longer any breath left to catch. "I'm sorry… I'm so so sorry,:" you whimpered, buried against David's chest. "Th-they had holy water, they were going to ambush you… I-I couldn't risk it.."

"No more, kitten," David shushed, holding your head on his chest. 

"Don't worry about it princess." Dwayne ran his hands over your hair, kissing the top of your head. "This won't happen again."

"We are never letting you out of our sight again," Marko cooed, nuzzling your hand against his face. Paul gently kissed your available cheek, looking up at the black sky shifting to grey. "Guys, the sun's comin' up."

"So it is." David lifted you bridal style into his arms, kissing you softly. "Let's get you home babygirl. Tonight we'll take you out for your first hunt, but for now, you need your rest."

A burst up wind carried you off into the air, holding on tightly to David as he flew you over the ocean, above the clouds, back to the safety of the hotel. Your home. Forever.

[datawyrms]

Dannymay2020 Day 31: Free Day (ghost sword fight lets go)

It was for science, a good cause. His life would be so much better if he didn’t have to hear his parents gleefully discuss ripping apart some mindless ectoplasmic scum molecule by molecule. Right now though, he was remembering the other reason he flinched in horror when having to take his parents anywhere. Complete embarrassment. One extra downside to ghost powers: knowing you actually can just have the ground swallow you up in shame, but knowing you really, really shouldn’t. When your dad is sitting with sodas strapped to his head and waving a foam finger with your friend’s name on it, it got very tempting.

He’d almost prefer dealing with an ecto gun. “Dad, you’re actually going to pay attention, right?”

“Course I will Danny-boy! That goth friend of yours will kick that ghost right back to its own dimension, and I’ll be watching.”

The half ghost groaned, crossing his arms. “Dad.”

“And totally see if it’s actually a fight with rules. I did listen, son! It’s just good to see young people taking up ghost hunting!”

“This isn’t ghost hunting!”

“Right. Your friend is just going to clobber a ghost with a sword. For Science!”

Well he wasn’t wrong exactly, but it wasn’t helping him not regret every second of this stupid plan. “It’s more Sam’s doing the ghost a favour, and Sam’s doing me a favour by letting us watch. Sooo don’t go calling the ghost scum or anything. Please.”

“Hmmhm. I did read your notes son. You think I’d come with no weapons if I thought your observations were shoddy?” he clapped the boy on the back, who had to struggle to not fall over. “Still gotta root for your friend kiddo!”

Yes. Yes he did, actually. Yet asking his dad to maybe be a little less enthusiastic was like asking the sun to maybe be a little less bright. Pointless, and possibly amusing to anyone overhearing you. “She manages without a cheering section most of the time,” he felt the need to point out before heading down the hill to check in with Sam.

“I don’t know what I expected. Not that, that’s for sure.”

“Tell me about it. I didn’t think he’d do anything but scowl from the hill because he’s worried about a dastardly ghost. Sorry.” he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes flicking between his friend and the bright orange blight on the hillside.

“Nah. Arlas will probably get a kick out of it anyway, she likes having an audience,” Sam shrugged, fiddling with the lightweight wooden sword. “I have a few new tricks. Who knew Star of all people would like fencing?”

“Did she swear you to secrecy?”

“Bought my silence by being a pretty good practice partner,” her grin faded somewhat “Guess I’ve been buying into their ‘popular’ shtick too. She’s not that bad.”

“Then I’ll pretend you didn’t tell me. You don’t think she’ll try and talk to Dad, right? That could get ugly real quick.”

“She might. She knows to keep the whole met in the ghost zone thing quiet, but I can’t promise much else,”

“Well I can’t promise he won’t call her putrid protoplasm so we’re totally doomed.”

“Maybe we can make it sound like good natured ribbing?”

“With what ribs?” Danny smirked in spite of himself

“Oh shut up you. Go worry about not turning invisible trying to hide from your dad or something. I’ve got this.”

He nodded, backing off to head back to his expected spot. He wasn’t meant to know the ghost well, after all. He did notice the ghost showing up before anyone else, but forced himself to act oblivious.

“Oh, there’s the spook! You mentioned the heavy leg armor, these ones can’t do the leg shapeshifting thing, right?”

Danny blinked. He’d actually read and paid attention to all of it? “Yeah, that’s right. It can be pretty heavy since they don’t have to walk much with the whole flying thing, apparently.” his eyes flicked to his Dad’s face, trying to figure out how the man felt about Sam and this ghost greeting one another in friendly terms. He didn’t look angry, so maybe it was a good sign?

“First to three hits is what you said, right?”

Man this felt weird. Answering things about ghosts without constantly worrying he’d be called a ghost for it. “Sam’s pretty sure five would take too long. Either because she gets tired out, or a ghost hunter barging in.” Something he had almost done three times, but he couldn’t mention that bit.

Jack kept his eyes fixed on the two, leaning forward even as he slurped from the ridiculous soda contraption. “That’s how she wins, right son?” he pointed as Sam blocked a swing and danced backwards, forcing the knight to give chase. “She outruns em and can go for smaller openings.”

“How did yo-yeah. That’s usually how, since she can’t just fly after her…” How could he pick up on that and not his son literally falling through things for a month?

Arlas looked as if she might have caught on to Sam’s usual plan as well, backing off instead of pursuing after another failed clash. He honestly had zero idea what to do in that situation that wasn’t ‘shoot ecto blast’, but his friend seemed to have a decent idea, feigning a left swing before jabbing forward at a much greater speed.

“Ha! Lookit that, already winning!”

“You’ll distract her if you cheer louder.”

“Nah, your little friends are tough!”

He did seem to be right, the boisterous cheering when Sam had the upper hand not earning as much as a glance from the fight. Sam did shoot Danny a look at the boo his Dad made when Arlas managed to turn a block into a strike Sam couldn’t defend against in time, and he could only shrug. Hopefully the knight wasn’t too annoyed at the blatant favoritism. Or maybe she expected it, being a visitor and all.

Still, making it through the combat without having to stop his Dad from trying to capture or hurt the ghost was pretty good. Even if it was still really weird to have him just watch. He personally didn’t even need to watch the fight, watching Jack was more than enough indication on how things were going. Okay, maybe he was a bit paranoid, watching just in case he had to do some split second overshadowing. Moreso now that the ghost apparently wanted to say hello to the watching human, to his complete dismay.

“Oh, so it is a family thing! What interesting armor.” Arlas said, looking at the bright orange jumpsuit. 

Jack did seem a little surprised at the possible complement, hiding it with a nod. “Always need to be prepared!”

Danny manared to peek out from behind his fingers. Dad hadn’t threatened her. That was progress. That was good! Him possibly wondering why she thought jumpsuits were a family thing was not good! Sam’s advice of remembering not to turn invisible suddenly seemed very useful.

“Still I hope it was a good show. Sir Manson is still a bit too fast for me, but I’ll figure out a way around that soon, you’ll see.”

“You could just lose the armor, you’re way better at planning than I am.” Sam pointed out, earning a laugh from the ghost.

“If I plan to work in it, I must be able to beat you in it! The extra preparation can only be a good thing. That, and I can use the same trick on the others if they get overconfident.”

“So you consider being a knight as a job? You could do something else if you got bored of the sword swinging gig?” Jack asked, hand on his chin as he watched the floating knight.

“Of course! There are plenty of things to do back home, but who wouldn’t want to help protect the Queen? It’s not like I cannot retire when I no longer wish to do it.” she paused, looking up at the sky as if searching for an example. “I suppose you do not really have proper communities of ghosts over here, just the stronger sorts or the occasional animal?”

“Nope. We just get the town attacking beasties”

“Ah, well who doesn’t? Troublemakers will be troublemakers.” she shrugged easily, apparently not considering herself a ‘beastie’.

Jack considered the answer, the loud slurping sound rather at odds with the pensive look on his face. Surely he didn’t think this ghost would make up an entire fake backstory, or be perfectly fine with losing to a human in a fair fight while being ‘mindless’. “So the Fentons are known over in your world then?”

“Well I wouldn’t say unknown. The outfits are pretty memorable! Yours more than your son’s. He is your son, I think. That’s the right term?”

Of course she had to bring up his jumpsuit. That he never wore. Because it was on his ghost form. Sam’s wince in sympathy did not help.

“See Danno, even the ghosts think you need more colour! Even Jazz’s is blue, maybe we should get you an orange one.”

“Maybe. Mine’s fine, thanks.” he managed to speak, hoping he didn’t sound too much like he’d been internally choking.

Sam took up damage control before her friend managed to be more suspicious than a wolf in a sheep pen. “Well, I’ve got stuff to do, and Arlas does too. See ya Mr. Fenton.”

The ghost did seem a little put out to not continue to chat, but took Sam’s lead, turning invisible before making her way back home.

“Not even going to try and scare anyone while she’s here huh? Interesting.” Jack commented. “Certainly a lot to think about kiddo! Our little researcher,” he ruffled Danny’s hair, earning a grunt from his son. “You think you might be able to arrange talking to some of these other ‘non-violent’ ghosts?”

“Oh. Yeah. Probably? Not right away, but sure.”

“Great! I want to see for myself if the stories line up. If they do, then we’ll need to figure out why only the blobs and animals showed up before the portal.” he got to his feet, apparently wanting to go write things down in the lab right away.

“Because they were the only ones dumb enough to leave the ghost zone without a portal to go home with.” Danny muttered “The smart ones wouldn’t risk it,”

“Right, you scrawled that on the back of your folder. Which ghost told you that again?”

In truth? Frostbite. Yet he didn’t have a way to explain that. “Phantom.”

“Well you can’t use yourself as a primary source son, that’d be considered speculation.”

Danny could only stare. Whoops.

[countessmorgasson]

The First Year

Asra x MC fic taking place during one of MC’s first memories with Asra.

Gender neutral MC

(Disclaimer: The timeframe in this scene takes place before the prologue. It’s also really late here, so I might make small edits on this post later on, it felt a little short to me)

Stuck.

Stuck.

Stuck.

For a moment, I’m watching the world from someone else’s eyes. Asra’s sitting in front of me, and even though I hear him speak, I don’t react.

And then like emerging from water, I snap back.

I inhale sharply, nearly hitting Asra as I move my arms forward- just to make sure I can.

That was odd.

Asra looks more scared than I do, however.

“Oh, m/c.” He breathes. For a minute, his eyebrows scrunch up and I fear he may cry. He gathers himself together and exhales slowly, bringing a sweet smile to his lips.

“Are you with me now?” He takes my hand, his skin much warmer than mine. He’s always had such soft hands- as long as I could remember... which isn’t really much. But I remember the feeling of his skin on mine. I’ve never felt anything but softness with him.

“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Sorry. I must have... spaced out.”

Asra looks at me with a twisted smile.

“Not exactly. You were frozen. I don’t think you could hear me- you didn’t move for... a few minutes.”

“Oh- I’m sorry. What did you say earlier?”

“It’s not important. How do you feel?”

I shrug, flexing my fingers and stretching my arms forward once again. They almost burn, like it’s been a long time since I’ve actually moved my body. Otherwise, I feel completely alright.  It was a normal day at the shop. Asra and I were just sitting together at our table, about to read my cards. Now I’m... facing someone with the most forlorn look on their face. It brought me pain. Oh Asra... you worry so much. 

“I feel okay. Why was I frozen? Was it a spell?”

I’m still fairly new to magic, or at least, new again, according to Asra. I’m not quite sure what that means. He just tells me that I need to start anew.

Sitting here in this shop sends a mix of feelings throughout my body that I’m not sure I can process.

This is my shop- I know it inside and out. It’s like I have a lifetime of feelings and emotions wrapped up in this shop.

And yet, I’ve only been here for a year. I can’t remember being here any time before that. In fact... I don’t remember anything besides this shop. Besides Asra.

We spend the better part of our days practicing magic. He’s such a talented magician. I wonder who taught him. I’m grateful to be amongst his company.

“M/c?”

“I’m okay. Just thinking.”

I forgot, I can’t get lost in my thoughts too often. It worries Asra- I think he’s afraid I’ll get stuck for good.

I move my arms, but I can’t really move my legs. They’re numb from how I’m sitting.

Oh no.

I think I’m slipping back.

I just told him I’m okay...

Stuck.

Stuck.

Stuck...

-

Cold water. 

This time, coming back seems to hurt.  It’s like I’ve spent all this time on ice, and I’ve finally plunged into the water below, shocking ice chilling my body.

I feel sick, noticing the obvious time lapse. How long was I like that? Asra’s not even here, he’s...

“M/c, thank goodness!”

He must have seen me turn my head. I find myself in his arms, his head nuzzled in between my neck and shoulder. I hug back, suddenly feeling very... sad. It’s like Asra’s own emotions spill into me. Our hearts are beating so hard I can’t tell which beat is mine.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to himself. Sorry?

“Why... are you sorry?” My throat is dry.

“I just am.” He sighs. “I shouldn’t have told you about the market.”

The market... the market. Oh! That’s what he was telling me earlier, just before my first... blackout?

What was it he had said, oh...

‘You won’t remember, but one time you got into the funniest argument with a vendor over the quality of an old Vesuvian coin you found...’

What? I have no memory of that. When did that happen? I’m tempted to try and remember, but then I think back to Asra still in my arms, begging me not to push for any memories. That must have been what kept me locked in place for... an hour? Two hours?

Oh, I’m doing it again! Getting lost in my head...

“What time is it?” I make sure to speak and keep my arms and fingers moving, so Asra doesn’t see me getting lost in my train of thought. I don’t want to bring more worry to him.

“It’s been about an hour. I think you should go to bed.”

“Bed? It’s still light out-“

“Not to sleep. Just... relax. I don’t want you walking around too much. You seem... sensitive today.”

With that, Asra’s arm is around me, leading me up the stairs to our shared room. I cave in and settle on our bed, beckoning for him to join.

“Well, don’t just leave me up here,” I tease. “I’m cold now. Come lay with me.”

He happily gives in, laying next to me and snuggling closely with his head lying on my chest. I sit up and rub his shoulders. He relaxes his arms, leaning into my touch.

“M/c, I should be doing this to you.”

“It’s good for me to stay moving, right? And you’re... always taking care of me.”

In another sudden wave of sadness, I lean down and wrap my arms around him in a soft, albeit a little awkward hug. He holds on to my arm, as I let a bitter sigh slip from my lips.

It’s just so frustrating... feeling like I constantly need to be watched like some ticking time bomb. If he’s not around I could hurt myself. How do I express the way that feels? That fear in the back of my mind, that I won’t be able to function on my own? What if I’ll always be like this, a burden for Asra to carry..?

I didn’t have to say what I was thinking. Asra seemed to feel it.

“Oh, m/c...”

We sit like that for a moment, hugging in silent bliss.

He eventually turns and takes me back in his arms, wiping the tear he saw on my cheek. His heart must be beating wildly. Mine is. He gently leans in and comforts me with a small kiss.

“You won’t have to worry about this someday. And... I enjoy taking care of you. Just so you know.”

He kisses my forehead now, leaning back.

“I’m going to make us something to eat. Sit tight.”

Just as he’s out of sight, I hear rain begin to splatter on the cobblestone outside. I lean towards our window, breathing in the cold, wet air. It brings me a sense of relief. The sky looks as if it’s been kissed by the sun; tinted orange with golden stars twinkling in the distance. The rain is a soft, gentle kiss on the earth, and for a moment, I remember that it’ll be okay.

No matter what.

[halfblood-fiend]

Star Trek Bingo 2020: Vertical Prompt 5

FUCK OR DIE

Show: Enterprise

Words: 5,940

Rating: Mature

Warning(s): explicit sexual content

The Ex in Extra-Terrestrial

Mestral had known that this outcome was inevitable. His biological needs would always catch up with him, he had only hoped that it wouldn't come to this, to her. It's been three years since he last saw Maggie, now she was his only hope if he wanted to stay alive. He only wished she would not judge him too harshly.

Read it on AO3.

He had known that this day was going to come eventually. It was as inevitable as the rising and setting of the single sun on this world that he had called his home for three years. A part of him—highly illogical though it was—had hoped it would never come at all. Perhaps, he would get inexplicably lucky (strange how that word had worked its way into his vernacular through his prolonged Human exposure) and his biology would not be so predictable.

But Mestral could feel the thunder in his bones and the crawling across his skin. Where everything on this planet was once cool to discomfort, now it was all burning hot. The pon farr was upon him.

Mestral did his best to take care of his problem himself. He had undergone meticulous planning on how to best approach this particular and unfortunate biological inevitability. He purchased a sequestered cabin far away from any human towns, stocked up on all the food and comforts he could think he needed, and he had planned to hole himself up and meditate for as long as it took to break the rampant fever. He would turn his intent inward, he could destroy his cabin if he wished, but he was optimistic it would not come to that.

However carefully he planned, a single loose thread nagged at the back of his mind. What if he could not do it alone after all?

On his travels, he had met a great many interesting and kind person. Some were even extremely aesthetically pleasing. None, however, had come close to the same importance as the woman from Carbon Creek, Maggie. No matter how pleasing the company or how fantastic for his work a new human was, Maggie was often in Mestral’s thoughts. Was she well? How was her son, Jack? Was he excelling in college? He had often wished to see her, to give in to a weakness that nagged in his mind, and, more often, in his heart. Always, logic dictated to him that to revisit Carbon Creek was never a viable option.

But if all his best laid plans regarding his Pon Farr failed… if he was forced to take a Human mate… Maggie was always Mestral’s first and only thought.

Promising himself it was better “to be safe rather than sorry” Mestral settled himself in a cabin in the woods of Pennsylvania, near where he and his crew had first crashed. He was careful to avoid Carbon Creek, choosing to drive further to get his necessities rather than visit the town where he could very well be recognized. Then, he settled in to wait.

It was very nearly two Earth weeks before he broke.

Mestral agonized by his telephone, but the meditation and the thrashing had done little against the onslaught of millions of years of evolution. He was backed into a corner and forced to make a final and irreversible decision.

He wished he didn’t have to do this to her.

Mestral dialed the long since memorized number and held his breath. After a few rings he felt a distinct sense of relief when he heard her voice on the other side of the line, slightly curious.

“Hello?”

He wasn’t certain she would answer at the late hour, but he was eternally grateful. “Hello. Maggie. This is… it’s Mestral. I—” How could he even begin? Where could he start?

“Mestral.” His name fell flat in her voice, and he withered inside, just a little. “You know you have some nerve calling here after all this time.”

“I-I know,” he replied quickly. He had calculated for this, but hearing the hurt in her voice made it worse. Foolishly, he had hoped, it would be as though no time had passed. But of course, humans with their short and emotional lives, would not let such pain as he had caused live down easily. Mestral closed his eyes and pressed the receiver to his ear desperately, like the lifeline it was. “Margaret, there is nothing I can say—”

“You’re damn right!”

“—only offer my sincerest apologies for the hurt I have caused you. I… I would not have bothered you again if…if it wasn’t imperative. If…” If I wasn’t dying. Mestral squeezed his eyes shut and felt the fingers in his pocket curl into a fist. What could he do? How could he explain?

How would she react?

“Mestral…?” Maggie asked softly. The change in her tone was encouraging, but Mestral wondered if it would be enough.

“Margaret, I need your help. You…you’re the only person I can trust. Can…can we meet?”

Maggie was quiet for several heartbeats, then, “Yeah… Yeah, we can, Mestral. Where—”

“At your tavern. After closing. Please…It will be a strange request, but I ask that you do not tell anyone of my coming.”

“You’re scaring me, Mestral,” she said in a hushed whisper. “But if you’re in a bind, I’ll help if I can. It’s the decent thing to do, no matter what you did to me.”

“Thank you.”

The lights inside the tavern were still bright, but Mestral had watched the last patron exit ten minutes ago. He stayed back in an alleyway across the street, just in case some late caller had a change of mind. The last thing he wanted to risk was for anyone else to see him here again. Part of him very much doubted that any Human, by their vaguely careless natures, would notice how he had remained virtually unchanged in the last three years. The rest of him was too compromised by the plak tow to believe he was thinking clearly. He was taking enough risks as it was, being here at all. No need to “tempt fate,” as it were.

At one am sharp, his fedora pulled low over his forehead and the collar of his heavy wool trench coat pulled up against the chill, Mestral pulled on the handle to Maggie’s tavern.

The air was warm and the sharp smell of Human alcohol reached his nose. For a moment, the idea to get Maggie so intoxicated she might forget everything crossed his fever-addled mind. And was immediately dismissed. Mestral refused to hurt her ever again. He was here to prostrate before her and entrust her with the greatest secret he had and hopefully, hopefully, she would accept him as her mate.

Otherwise, he was about to make the largest mistake of his life. And perhaps the last one, if Maggie was unwilling to help him. Between revealing his true heritage or dying, it was quite obvious which was the preferred.

Maggie sat waiting for him at a small table near the center of the room. She looked up when he entered, and tired blue eyes glanced at the clock behind the bar. A small smile crossed her face, though Mestral couldn’t quite tell if it was sad or exhausted. Perhaps both.

“You were always a punctual one, weren’t you?” she asked, softly laughing to herself. “Not sure why I’m really surprised.”

Mestral nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet. Even if his senses were not as acute as his female counterparts’, the Plak Tow made what he did have nearly unbearable. Maggie smelled sweet. He could nearly taste her on his tongue from here. He had not quite anticipated the heady roll of memories that assaulted him the moment he was back in this place. Too easily he remembered sitting at the bar with her, smelling her perfume as she walked by him to deliver drinks, the way her lips felt on his when he had kissed her goodbye all those nights ago.

He could barely remember why it had been logical at the time to have left her at all.

Maggie regarded him for three heartbeats and then scoffed to herself. She turned her face away from him, her hand coming to her mouth. “I’m a damn idiot, Mestral,” she said bitterly. She sounded halfway between a laugh and a sob and this confused him. He remained helplessly by the door, waiting for her to continue. “I thought I could stay mad at you. I told myself to just hear what you had to say and then send you on your way, but seeing you…” When she turned back to him, she was misty-eyed, but made no comment on her mental state. “It’s good to see you,” she said so quietly, Mestral was certain no Human could have heard it. “Sit down, will you?”

“Maggie, I—” How many times had Mestral gone over what exactly he would say. So many ways he had planned how to broach the subject, but she was right. Seeing her sitting there, so close and yet so undoubtably far before him… “It is good to see you too,” he replied. He moved deliberately, all too aware of the storm that brewed inside him. How easy it would be to destroy the back of the chair, to throw the furniture rather than sit in it. This world was not made for him, but selfish as he was, he sought to make himself a home here. He forced himself into everything.

Mestral closed his eyes and attempted to gather his thoughts.

“Believe me, Maggie, that I had not really wanted to leave you. It was for—”

She shook her head violently and pressed her mouth together. “Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare, Mestral. Just…” She sighed. “Your coat. You must be burning up.”

“I am fine.” No, too harsh. “I appreciate your concern,” he added with more control. He was burning up, but coat or no, it would hardly matter. When he opened his eyes again, he sought her gaze. She put her hands out on the table between them, her intent clear. He stared at her fingers and gulped.

After a moment, she understood that he would not touch her, and Mestral hated the way her hands curled back into her body, the way the edges of her mouth set. “What is it that you need, Mestral? You sounded desperate on the telephone.”

Where to begin?

“If it’s money, I can do what I can, but you know what it was like here in the bar for me—”

“No, Maggie. I did not seek you out for monetary means. Nothing so…plain.”

She bit her lip and made no motion to speak.

“I… I would have a favor to ask you. And… it would be no simple task. In fact… it is almost unthinkable for me to request it of you, but I sincerely have no other choice. You must know that I have exhausted all other means.”

A crease appeared between her eyebrows and Mestral had to look away. The edges of the plak tow were making this painful. Such a monumental task not to shout his need at her without a care for her understanding. But he must hold firm. He must know a bond with him could be something she desired. She had seemed to desire it once, but three years was a lot of time for a Human and Mestral could make no assumptions.

“Just tell me, Mestral,” she said gently.

“I…will admit I do not know how to explain. There is no way to make my confession without it sounding…”

“Try me.” Again, she put her hand out, and again, he wished that he could allow himself to take it.

He drew his eyes away from her palm and focused on the chipped edge of the well-worn table.

“What do you know about Roswell?”

Maggie uttered a quick surprised bark of a laugh. “What?” she asked, incredulousness in her voice. “You mean…? What are you asking? About aliens?” She leaned away from him and crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head. “Did you show back up on my doorstep just to tell me about cookey conspiracy theories? And to think I thought you were going to ask me something serious—”

“I assure you, Margaret, I am completely serious.”

She narrowed her eyes at him for a heartbeat and sighed. “Sure. Roswell. Supposedly there were extraterrestrials that came to Earth to conquer us—or something—UFO’s and all that, but they were just stories. The guys here tell them when they get too drunk. Hell, Jack will tell me about them once in a while—subscribes to some trashy alien fan magazine that fills his head with drivel. All these tall tales and there hasn’t been any proof. So just what does this have to do with you?”

Everything. Mestral looked up at her disbelieving face and considered his words carefully. “Roswell and a few of the other isolated incidents were not founded entirely in fiction, Maggie. Some of them are true.”

She shook her head at him. “You came all this way, crawled out of God only knows where…just to talk to me about aliens… To think I thought you were different once—”

“I need your help!” Mestral cried over her. He balled his fists in his lap, and squeezed his eyes shut. “It is essential that you have a full understanding of me before I ever ask you for my favor. Roswell was real. The extraterrestrial race that landed there was one my people know as the Ferengi. And they are not the only other alien race out there. There are hundreds of thousands more across millions of galaxies. Space, the universe… is so incalculably vast, Margaret… You could not have truly believed that I, nor you, were ever alone in it.”

Such a logical argument, but her mouth remained a firm line. “So, there are aliens out there, according to you. Which is crazy—but fine. Say I buy that. Get to the part about you.”

Mestral stared at her hopelessly. This was neither going as smoothly nor as well as he had hoped. There was nothing gentle about his delivery, nothing light about what he had to say, and every moment longer he spent languishing was another moment he could feel his control slipping from him.

In all the fantasies about what he might say to Maggie, it had never been this way. Never shouted and never spoken so plainly. He had hoped for a kinder understanding. He had hoped for open arms, for the open heart that he had remembered her to have possessed. Rather foolishly, he now realized, as he stared despairingly at the years-dulled lacquer of the table top.

“I… I am one of them,” Mestral said softly. He peeked beneath his lashes to gauge her reaction, but there was nothing to gauge. With nothing else to do, he pressed on. “My colleagues and I. We were not from this world, nor any one nearby. We came here to-to study Humankind. Our races are so similar, yours and mine, and—We crashed. Outside of Carbon Creek. We stayed there for some time, but we were starving. And—”

”What?”

“We did not think we would ever be rescued, but then our distress beacon was found. T’Mir and Stron—they both returned to our planet with the rest of our people, but I—I elected to stay here on Earth—”

“You’re a—”

“I am an…” Mestral licked his lips. His heart beat frantically in his side. There was hardly any going back now. He’d come this far. And yet he considered reaching out and catching her neck in a nerve pinch and hoping that she would awake believing all of this to be some kind of dream.

But if he did such, he would die.

Maggie leapt from the table and took several shaky steps back. Mestral forced himself to remain seated. He put his hands up and hoped.

“You’re trying to tell me you’re some kind of a-a-a—a MARTIAN?”

He blinked. “A Vulcan.”

“A what?!”

“I am a Vulcan. Not a Martian. There are no such things as Martians.”

Maggie pressed a hand to her head and then pressed the other to her face too. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“No,” he replied quietly, staring at her intently as though if he took his eyes off her for a moment, she might disappear. “I am Vulcan. You asked me once why I always wore a hat when last I was here. This is why.”

She peeked through her fingers and watched as Mestral reached up with trembling hands and removed his fedora from his head.

He had relaxed on the Surakian look that nearly all his people adopted. It was easier to cut his longer hair himself, as visiting a Human barber was out of the question. There were certain advantages to keeping his hair longer as well. He could hide the tips of his ears the way Stron had done in his time here, but with the benefit of fewer people calling him “Moe.” Now, he revealed himself to Maggie, tucking his black hair behind his pointed ears and reflexively smoothing the front away from his forehead, as he had seen so many Human males do.

There was no fighting the nerves that swallowed him now as he stared up at Maggie, who’s face he could see, even behind her fingers, was crumpling in confusion and despair. She uttered a small squeak and waivered on her feet. Mestral half-rose, ready to catch her, should that be what she required, but she stepped further away from him. He froze. It occurred to him quite clearly that any movement he made now would mean the end of him. The end of this…whatever he had hoped it would be.

Lowering her hands, Maggie stared at him as if he was a different person. Her face was still stricken and pale, her mouth parted slightly but she wasn’t screaming or running. Mestral supposed he had to hope that counted for something.

“Your…” she said in a hushed voice. She took a step toward him and Mestral willed himself to be perfectly still, electing even to hold his breath lest he scare her away.

Her eyes jumped back and forth from his face, taking furtive glances at his ears as though she could offend him if she stared.

Please understand, he thought desperately. Please.

She came close to him. She raised a hand in front of her face. Mestral stared at her fingers. “M-may I…?”

Mestral clamped his jaw tightly. It was necessary. It had to be done. Control yourself! He gave Maggie a tight nod.

Slowly, her fingertips brushed the hair at his temple, and he closed his eyes, the muscles in his stomach going taut. Her skin blazed on his as Maggie touched him, tracing the shell of his ear and sending ripples of agonizing pleasure unwittingly throughout his body. Every nerve screamed at him. They shouted for their release, for the desire to grab her like some barbarian and find his end with her. Enough! they cried. To hell with patience! But Mestral was better than his base instincts. He had to believe he was.

He couldn’t tell how long or short a time the torture was. His skin sang long after hers had left him. Her smell filled his nostrils as he fought miserably for control of himself through a haze.

“—beautiful.”

He met her gaze again and was shocked to find her blue eyes on his face, looking over him wonderingly. “I always thought there was something strange about you, Mestral. It’s a little…validating to find out I was right.”

The tenderness in her face made him breathless. Mestral hardly dared to hope that perhaps this plan would work out after all.

“So…you’re an alien. And now you need…what? Asylum?” She smiled slightly. “I don’t know how much help I can be if you have a spaceship and everything.”

“I do not,” Mestral said hoarsely. “I committed to staying on Earth, and I was left with nothing. T’Mir and Stron took the wreckage of our ship, lest Humanity find it.”

Maggie nodded. “Okay. Makes as much sense as anything else, I guess. So…”

“My favor is not something to be asked about lightly. But as I have no way to return to Vulcan, and no hope of… There are certain…” Certain what? How could he possibly say it?

“Mestral,” she breathed, laying a hand on his chest. Perhaps mistakenly where she believed his heart could be. “If you are the only alien here… Are you…lonely?”

He looked down at her. Not quite the truth, but close enough. Perhaps if that was as close as an understanding as they could come to…

No. No, this was not enough. Mestral didn’t come all the way here and risk his exposure just to ease loneliness. And Maggie deserved to know everything, not be unwittingly tricked into bonding with him.

“I am…” He licked his lips. He could nearly taste her. “I am in need of… My kind, we must…take mates every seven years. I believed I could fight my nature but…”

Maggie’s eyes widened again.

“It was never my wish to leave you. But without my kinsmen, my anonymity here in Carbon Creek was limited, and I wished to travel to see more of your world. But when I felt the Pon Farr upon me—”

Maggie mouthed the unfamiliar words as he spoke.

“—my thoughts were only of you. There is no one else on this entire planet that I could possibly trust—”

“You…you came back just to have sex with me.”

Mestral shook his head. “No! Maggie, no. I-I came back to take—to ask you to be my mate. I can think of no other—”

She pushed him away with the hand on his chest, and though she could never hope to move him, Mestral stumbled back at her request. When she spoke, her voice shook with rage. “This was your request. Your favor??”

“Please understand—”

“Even men from other planets are all the same!!”

“No, Maggie—”

“You know, I guess I do owe you my thanks, Mestral. Thank you, at least for being so goddamn honest! If my ex-husband had been so upfront it would have saved me a lot of heartache!”

“Maggie, please!”

“You should go, Mestral! I am not some-some slut to-to-to—”

“Please, Maggie, I will die!”

Mestral squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. He staggered to the table and sagged his weight onto it. So much effort. It had taken so much effort to keep collected, but now his blood was pounding in his veins. His body threatened to shake itself apart, to rend his skin like tissue paper. He whimpered and then his legs gave beneath him and he collapsed onto the floor.

He hadn’t wanted to mention that final detail. It felt too much like pressuring. But as he saw his chance slipping away, he couldn’t keep the truth to himself anymore. His mind was hardly his own any longer. Maggie was truly his last and only hope.

“Mestral!” Maggie called from somewhere far off. Her voice seemed to carry sluggish and leaden as though through a dense fog.

“I would not have come, if it was not such a dire situation,” he wheezed, not entirely sure she could hear him. Perhaps the plak tow had driven him entirely mad and he was speaking to no one. “I wanted to protect you from anyone who could discover what I was. I wanted to… I—”

“Mestral…”

“I have a great admiration for you, Maggie. I…I owe you so much…”

He felt a pressure against his face and heat blossomed from his lips. The same heat that he had wistfully recalled over the previous three years.

Reality snapped into focus.

He was sprawled on the floor, his head in Maggie’s lap, and her lips; yes, her lips were pressed to his and he relished in the feel of her, the smell of her, the promise that lingered in the way her hands cradled his face. The blazing in his body screamed anew.

She broke their kiss and smoothed his hair away from his face, shaking her head. “I hate… I hate how I can’t let you go. I don’t know if what you’re saying is true or if you’re just… It doesn’t matter. I was so in love with you. I hate how I’m still in love with you…”

Mestral blinked up at her and raised a hand to touch her cheek. The feel of her skin sent a shock through him but he grit his teeth against the desire that uncurled in his chest. “Maggie…”

“Just…tell me what I need to do. T-To help you, I mean.”

He outstretched his fingers and Maggie followed suit. When all her fingertips touched his, he shuddered. He could hear her breath catch, feel her heart pick up its pace. The gnawing in his blood grew nearly to its boiling point.

“Parted from me…and never parted,” he murmured.

“Never and always touching and touched,” Maggie replied. Her eyes widened. “How—”

“We are becoming connected,” he breathed. “You can feel me as…as I feel you.”

She wanted to ask what that meant, and Mestral wanted very badly to tell her, but as his entire body shuddered violently, he could see he was out of time.

Mestral gulped. “I…we will only go as fast or as slow as you…”

Maggie smiled down at him. “I’m not a blushing virgin, Mestral. I know how this works. I was married once before, you know.”

Not like this, he thought, but he knew better than to say it.

He wanted so badly to kiss her. To reach out and drag her onto him, but he resisted. If he could do one thing right…if he could treat her the way she should have been treated all along…

Maggie licked her lips and looked at him resolutely. “Maybe that would be good for a… f-for a Vulcan woman but…” Her other hand smoothed over his hair and she stroked Mestral’s cheek with her thumb. He trembled under her touch and if he wasn’t already too weak to stand, he would have needed to use every ounce of his will to hold himself in place. “B-but I’m not a-a Vulcan woman, Mestral. I’m Human… and…and I just want to help you. Before it’s too late.”

Mestral realized she had heard his thoughts. It was happening so quickly with the fever. He nodded.

Gulping, Maggie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to his and this time she eased her tongue into his mouth. She pulled her fingers away from his and stroked down his arm. Her own fingers shaking, she trailed them across his chest and down his abdomen. She hesitated at the waistband of his pants and then attempted to undo his belt with one hand.

“Maggie,” he said hoarsely between her kisses. Something tight and desperate like fear knotted itself up around his heart.

“I know that it’s probably…strange. But a penis is a penis, right? You can show me what you like later.” Freed of the belt and the button, Maggie’s hand plunged beneath his pants and when she grazed his length, he convulsed, his hips bucking and a strangled cry escaping his lips. She squeezed lightly and bright light exploded behind his eyes. Every inch of his skin was on fire. “Is… is it pretty much the same for…Vulcans?”

She thumbed across the double ridges of his head, catching the dorsal nerve as she went and Mestral’s back arched.

“I’ll just go ahead and take that as a yes,” she said breathlessly.

When she withdrew her hand, Mestral made a most undignified sound, but he understood when her hands flew to the hem of her dress and she started pulling off her undergarments. He tried to lift himself up to sitting but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. She eased her legs out from under his head and lowered him completely to the floor, bending to kiss him again. Briefly. Then she straddled his hips and settled on top of him with a little shake of her own.

He groaned and gripped her thighs with his hands.

She was so fragile. He would have to be careful. But he didn’t know if he had that much control left in him.

Maggie bit her lip. Through her bare skin, Mestral could feel her trepidation. He wished he could give her more words of comfort—or any words at all for that matter, but he could not form anything comprehensible through the blood fever’s highest pitch. The only thing that he seemed to know was the ache that sprung from every part of him. All of him desperate for the relief that the press of Maggie’s body promised.

Fumbling fingers attempted to pull down his pants. Mestral obliged her by lifting his hips easily, even with her on top of him. She gave a little gasp, but she stabilized herself on his chest. His hands wandered up her thighs, revealing more pale skin to his hungry gaze. If he had any energy of his own…

Reaching around behind her back, Maggie groped for Mestral’s member. Her fingers running along the downy hair there sent him into frantic pants. He shook with anticipation for—there! She gripped his base and sent shudders and stars running though his body.

Her eyes were fixed on him. Determined. Resolute. He would have never known she was nervous if it wasn’t for her skin pressed to his.

Maggie rocked backwards and he felt his tip against something slick and hot. Tossing his head back, he keened through grit teeth and fought against the instinct to drive himself into her.

He couldn’t! He wouldn’t hurt her!

But all at once, Mestral was seized with pleasure as Maggie did her own driving. She was wet. And hot; so so blessedly warm. Like he never imagined. From far away he was dimly aware that Maggie had moaned, a lovely sound that melted him. Or it would have if he wasn’t already blistering.

She eased herself up and down, sliding over him, her hands planted firmly on his chest, his fingers digging into her flesh. Steadily, she rode him faster and he was blinded by colors so bright they all blended into white behind his eyes.

A meld. He needed a—

Mestral’s body convulsed and the tight strings that had wound in his stomach unfurled and snapped. He came in a high string of groans that would have been unacceptable for his Vulcan bondmate to hear. His new Human one, however, grinned with satisfaction and bent forward to press her lips over his cheeks, his nose.

It was like breaking a shackle that he hadn’t known he was wearing. Like coming up for air. His head cleared in an instant.

Mestral knew he was nowhere near finished, that there was still far more to this mating experience, but he could feel the strength returning to his limbs and a modicum of willpower returning to his mind.

He would no longer be a passive participant. Maggie deserved better. And he would make it up to her.

Grabbing his Human by her waist, Mestral rolled them over until he was poised on top of her. He watched the emotions play across Maggie’s face—shock, pleasure, delight—and he reveled in them.

He hitched the fabric of her dress up to her middle and noted how she gleefully undid the buttons at her neckline and freed her breasts for him. He heard her plea in his mind and bent to kiss her flesh the way she wanted, his tongue tasting her sweet skin. As his lips closed around her pert pink nipple, he thrust into her, and her cry of pleasure radiated down his spine with his own.

“Maggie,” he sighed as his hips found a rhythm with hers. “Maggie…”

She uncurled for him. He heard so much of her. Everything she said and all the more that she thought. She was open to him. Maggie was all his.

She came around him in a shuddering and delightfully human orgasm. The way her walls tightened and convulsed made him hiss and break through another of his own—another tie of Pon Farr snapped on the tavern floor.

His head felt clearer than it had in weeks.

“God, Mestral. God.”

The Vulcan cradled the woman to his chest and nuzzled his face into her neck. He breathed the scent of them both in and shivered.

“I still need you, Maggie,” he whispered.

She nodded, in a numb sort of way. He could feel through her skin that her mind was still fuzzy and reeling, but she was interested.

‘I’ll do whatever you want if you keep fucking me like that.’

Mestral blushed at her thoughts, but he was grateful the feeling was mutual. His fever was only somewhat lessened, and he was unsure if Maggie’s stamina could match his own. Who knew how much more he would need from her until his biological drive was sated?

“Bedroom?” Maggie panted as she attempted to wiggle her hips into his. “It’s been way too long. I don’t want to stop if you don’t.”

Mestral groaned and nodded into her neck. “I do not.” She whimpered as he eased himself out of her and got to his feet with her in his arms. Maggie told him the way without her having to utter a word.

‘Is he still gonna be here in the morning?’

He looked down at her. She watched him with glowing admiration, but there was sadness deep in her eyes. Sadness that he put there, he knew, but that he swore to himself to undo.

Mestral contemplated the ramifications of their actions here tonight while he climbed the stairs. Something big had changed for both of them, even if Maggie didn’t know the full extent of it yet. Whether she ultimately chose to keep him around when she found out, it didn’t matter just now. So far as Mestral was concerned, Maggie was his bondmate now, and he would do everything for her that that might entail here on Earth.

Anything. He would do anything she asked.

He lay her on her bed with care and she smiled up at him. She peeled off her dress and cast it aside and watched as Mestral shed his own coat and shirt and crawled on top of her.

Maggie’s fingertips traced the line of his jaw and along the shell of his ear. She lightly pinched the tip between her finger and her thumb and Mestral shivered. She grinned up at him. With her brown hair curled out over the pillow beneath her, she was a marvelous creature to behold.

‘Please, God. Let him stay this time…’

Mestral bent slowly and captured her lips in his. The soft movement of her, the pressure between them built and made his blood simmer again. His need pent in his body, winding up once more.

He broke the kiss and let his hand smooth up her arm until he clasped her hand in his own. “I will stay for as long as you want me,” he whispered against her lips.

“You really mean that?”

“Yes. I absolutely do. I am loathe to make the same mistake twice. I have not stopped thinking of you since we met, and I will not leave your side again unless you ask me to.”

She kissed him again. There was a certain finality to it that made Mestral warm.

“I’d have to be crazy to do something like that.”

[sicut-in-caelo-et-in-terra]

Hi! I came across your blog and I’m so happy I did. I recently started to open my eyes and wanted to know Jesus and I am beyond happy I did because I already feel like a more calming presence around me. However, I was wondering if you have advice on how to stop with the ‘false idols’ thing? I spent the last few years only feeling validated when getting notices, spending money or whatever for meeting celebrities I liked and I’m so exhausted + tired of doing this. I’m just scared of falling back

Thank you so much for the ask! And I'm so happy you've been coming to know Jesus!

Yeah, false idols are tough. We all have them, and there's extensive literature on why they're bad and how to get rid of them - read the writings of almost any Saint. The first one that comes to mind is St. Thérèse of Lisieux and her little way. For more info I would recommend reading one of her actual works like Story of a Soul, or you can read something about her writings by someone else, like I Believe in Love by Fr. Jean C. J. D'Elbée. But here's my take largely based on the Little Way.

Here's the thing that might kind of seem surprising to hear in a discourse on purging idols. Money, power, fame, sex (although sex is a bit complicated of a topic, for a different post), things you buy, food, celebrities, likes on social media, politics, all these things that can become idols, aren't actually intrinsically bad. They become bad when they become your source of meaning. They become bad when they become the center of your life. They become bad when they stand in between you and God. They become bad when you stop seeing them as gifts God has given you, and start seeing them as things you deserve, or things you need, or things you can't be happy without.

Okay, great, that's why we've come here, so that we can figure out how to make those things be not like that.

Let's talk about chocolate. Chocolate is good. Chocolate is exquisite. I love it. I just had a piece of chocolate earlier today because it was my cousin's wedding and my mom was making candy baggies for the guests and there was some candy left over. I had a dark chocolate Kit Kat. I ate it and it was great, and I didn't think much about it and went on with the rest of my day.

But before time began, before the creation of the angels, before the beginning - God, who would go on to create massive spheres of plasma millions of times bigger than the sun, and black holes and quasars and dazzling crystals of amethyst and waterfalls and physics and kittens, who would go on and send his dear Jesus to die because he would rather endure that pain than be separated from me, who even now has sent an angel to watch over me who is so powerful that he could extinguish any one of those gigantic stars with a swing of his sword, God said, "On October 10, 2020, my beloved son Jared is going to eat a dark chocolate Kit Kat bar and I can't wait to make him even just a little bit happy for it."

Like can you understand that?! This modicum of joy that I received, which I barely paid any mind to before moving on with my day, was a gift that since before it all happened God has been giddy to witness me experience. Even now as I move my thumb across the screen to write these words, God watches with utter love, in total enjoyment. You know how when you see a gif of a celebrity you like doing some normal movement in their day and you fall a little more in love? God experiences* a million billion kajillion times that, towards you, specifically, every second of every day.

(*to say 'God "experiences"' is not quite right but in this context it is a sufficient explanation even if not technically accurate)

Okay, so idols.

Everything that is good, is good because of God. And any and every good that happens to you, ever, is because God specifically wanted it for you (delight that comes from sin is not counted here as a good) because He loves you.

Why is there something rather than nothing? Why is there a you rather than no you? God doesn't need you, and He doesn't lack anything without you. He made you out of love, because He wants the good for you. Everything is a gift.

And suffering? That's also a gift. But for a different post.

So, go ahead and eat a dark chocolate Kit Kat bar. You might be tempted to think, "I deserve this." You might be tempted to eat the first one and then seek after infinite dark chocolate Kit Kat bars because you love them so much. You might be tempted to treat the dark chocolate Kit Kat bar as an end unto itself. I guess you might be tempted to construct a golden dark chocolate Kit Kat bar statue and have an orgy all around it until Moses comes down from the mountain and grinds it into powder, mixes it with water, and makes you drink it. But instead, do this - recite these words: "Bless us, O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we have received from thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord." And really understand the words. Know that this is a gift, given to you freely by God. Let this dark chocolate Kit Kat bar be a sign, from God to you, that He loves you. That is what good things are for.

When all your candy is eaten for the candy's sake, or to vainly fill some hole that a wound has left in your heart, it will leave you, as you described, empty. But, properly ordered, no good thing will ever go to waste.

Now, some more practical tips (and anyone reading this please feel free to add)

1. Fast. This is a good practice for everyone, but especially if you've identified a particular idol in your life that you're having trouble ordering properly. If there's something that keeps making you feel empty, something that keeps getting in your way on your path to God, give it up. If it's not a sin, give it up only for a time, and break the fast sometimes. As Catholics we break our fasts on Sundays and solemnities to celebrate the Resurrection, but it's also a good practice because having something you really like but haven't had in a while, makes you appreciate it more and it's easier to see it as a gift. Also bask in the silence that has been brought to your life when this thing you often turn to is no longer available. It's uncomfortable at first but it's good.

2. Thankfuls. I do this every night, once over the phone with my girlfriend and once right before bed as part of my examen prayer. Now, psychologists are recommending it for people with depression as well so. Basically what you're going to do is review your day and notice the gifts you have been given. You can tell someone or write it down, or just pray it. Thank God for everything you've received. If your mind tends to wander like mine, I recommend with starting with a set number, like 3. Or try and think of everything you can.

3. Replace. This is another psychology tactic, also useful when conquering sin. Feeling like you want to watch porn? Draw instead (doesn't have to be a good drawing). Feeling like you're going to gossip? Excuse yourself and say a quick prayer instead. Gonna post something funny (and maybe a bit mean) for the sweet sweet dopamine from getting likes? Maybe journal instead. Have a plan for when you notice yourself being about to idol something. Fasting can enhance this practice cause it makes you more aware and more likely to catch yourself as well.

That was a very long post, but I hope it was helpful. Thank you for reading! And I'll be praying for you.

[thisbentleyplaysqueen]

The Angel, the Demon, and the Not-so Holy Ghost

                                                  Chapter One

Thank you to SuperiorDimwit for helping me by editing this chapter!

Next Chapter

Soho, London, 1881

    The sun has just risen over the city, but Aziraphale had never gone to sleep. Rather, he sets down the book he had been rather engrossed in as the sun slips through his dirty windows. With a small sigh, he pushes to his feet and begins his morning routine by putting the kettle on.

Angels needn’t sleep. This was true, and Aziraphale never had seen any reason for sleep. However, he prided himself in a concise morning schedule: put the kettle on, make some bread and jam, enjoy a nice cup of tea while deciding when to open the store for the day- or whether to open at all! He loves the liberty of choice. 

 A gentle smile graces his face as he considers the loaf of bread, just bought the day previous. He slices the first slice. The butt of the bread is viewed differently among different cultures. Some treasure the first slice, others find it beneath them to eat such a piece. For Aziraphale, he couldn’t bear to throw out even a morsel, no matter the meal. Crowley would always flash him a knowing smile, aware of the angel’s concerns, and would always slide his barely touched dish over. Crowley always seemed to know the perfect time to ‘tempt’ him…

 A frown grows and he finds he had long stopped slicing the bread. He sighs, and sets down the knife and allows his hands to unclench. Even as his hands relax, a knot begins in his stomach. He turns away from the bread and intends to cross the kitchen for a deep breath at the window, but freezes at the sight of the book on his countertop. Any previous trace of a smile has long been forgotten as he slowly nears. 

The book seems to be his instruction on the birds of Europe. It is still open, and the only sketch on the page is of a duck. Aziraphale cares not to read what type of duck it is as his fingers trace the sketch. 

‘Do ducks have ears?’ The voice in his head wonders, in that familiar lilt. ‘Must. How would they talk to other ducks?’

Aziraphale’s lips twitch at the thought, but then immediately disappears at the recognition of the voice and the memory drags its burdens along. He slams the book shut much harder than he intends, but merely huffs as he moves the book off the counter. He turns back to the bread, cutting the second slice with much less grace before turning to the jam.

It has been twenty years since his argument with Crowley, and he hasn’t heard from the demon since. As an angel, he shouldn’t worry, let alone about a demon...but Aziraphale has never been very good at angelic things. He ate, he drank, and he worried about demons who he had refused a means of suicide. At the time, he thought it was wise to not give in to Crowley’s request. Now, he wonders if Crowley even existed anymore, or if he had found his own means...oh, he can’t bear to think of it-

The door opens and slams shut, and Aziraphale jumps. Instantly dragged from his brooding, he stiffens and calls. “We’re closed!” 

Now that he thinks about it, the door had been locked…

Catching a breath he didn’t need, he holds it as he creeps around the corner into the shop. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to stop his shop from being robbed, he thinks as he gathers his angelic power, but he didn’t think it would ever happen this early. Why it wasn’t even noon yet…

“Aziraphale!” Aziraphale jumps at his name, and whips around, hand poised to defend himself. He freezes, though, as he connects the familiar voice to the face. 

“Gabriel?” He lowers his hand, before hurriedly clasping them behind his back as he clears his throat. “I...I wasn’t expecting you.”

Gabriel waves him off. “Just dropping by for a quick word.” He glances around, “I see you’re still attached to this...mortal collection.”

“The bookshop.” Aziraphale clarifies before nodding. “Yes, it helps establish a cover for me and connects me with many humans-”

“That’s great, Aziraphale.” Gabriel interrupts, sitting down in Aziraphale’s favorite chair. The other angel tries not to make a face at that as his superior relaxes into it. “We need to talk.” 

“What...what about?” Before Gabriel can answer, the kettle begins to whistle shrilly from the kitchen. Gabriel covers his ears and glares. 

“What is that infernal sound?”

“Oh, that’ll be the kettle. I will take care of it.”

Aziraphale bustles off to the kitchen, and hurriedly moves the kettle to a cooler plate on the stove. The kettle quiets, and he reaches up into the cabinet and pulls down two teacups. 

“What is that?” Aziraphale nearly drops a teacup as he whips around to find Gabriel in the doorway, nose wrinkled. 

“Erm, tea.” He places the tea leaves before pouring the hot water. “Would you like a cup?”

The wrinkle in Gabriel’s nose grows and Aziraphale’s smile fades as he sets the kettle down. “Right.”

“Right.” Gabriel agrees, before clearing his throat and crossing the room. “Now about that business…” 

Aziraphale is cornered against the counter as Gabriel towers over him. 

“Normally this would be a mission reserved for angels of…” He decides not to finish that sentence, instead giving him a grin and a chuckle that seems forced. “However, seeing as you are the only unassigned Earth agent, this will be your mission. You need to go to Paris.”

“P-Paris?” Aziraphale stutters out, remembering his last experience in France. That time in the bastille was simply awful, he really had been lucky Crowley had been there… His thoughts break off at the demon’s name and at Gabriel’s sharp look. 

“Yes, Paris. To one of those human...singing places. The unangelic ones. I believe it has something to do with the word Populaire…”

“The Opera Populaire?” Of course, Aziraphale knew of that! Before the French revolution, Aziraphale had taken quite a liking to the opera, especially in Paris. However, it’s been so long since then… “What about the opera?”

“There have been...rumors.” Gabriel raises his eyebrows at that. “The humans have been letting their imaginations run away with them, it seems. Talking of a spirit terrorizing the place, scaring the humans that are there. I’m sure it’s nothing, just a silly story. However, if there is a spirit, then you must stop them. They do not have permission to remain on Earth and must be dealt with accordingly. Do you understand?”

Aziraphale nods. “Just...how exactly am I supposed to find this spirit?”

Gabriel grins and claps a hard hand against his arm. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. But get to Paris, and stop that spirit.”

With that, Gabriel snaps and disappears. 

“...Right.”

                                                          ---

The next day, Aziraphale finds himself in a train car, watching the world pass him by as he attempts to read. This train would take him to the Channel, where he could take a ferry across, and then another train to Paris. It was much less convenient than a miracle, but he had no doubt Gabriel would consider it ‘frivolous’, especially when he might have greater needs for miracles on this journey. 

Most spirits are content to pass from Earth to the afterlife. After all, they are the souls of humanity, and many have been told of a paradise or of a new life waiting for them. Some got lost on the way, and so angels would be sent to guide them to their judgment, whether it be the paradise of Heaven or the heat of Hell. Those spirits (ghosts, as he learned humans called them) were often apologetic, and pliant the rest of the journey. 

However, there were some who had become attached to Earth. Aziraphale couldn’t necessarily blame them, but everyone had their time to take their leave. He dreads the day, but he would go willingly when called. That’s what these spirits don’t understand. They drag their feet, clinging to a belonging treasured  from their life that is often in the hands of another human, bringing terror to the new owner. Removing those spirits were nasty business: attachments were destroyed, humans were traumatized, and often that earned the spirit a one-way ticket to Hell. The memories and stories of those spirits send a shiver down his spine as he clutches his long-forgotten book between his hands. He may need every miracle and power in his inventory. Who knows if this spirit has simply lost their way, or has no desire to travel to the afterlife at all? 

For the moment, he needs a plan. He needs to sneak into the Opera Populaire himself and see if he can reach out to the spirit, show himself to be a peaceful guide to the afterlife. That will be much harder with humans in the way, and he would rather not force many humans to look the other way. No, that will gather too much attention...

He blinks and suddenly realizes the train has come to a stop. The scent of salt in the air and the muted cry of seagulls turns his attention to see the train station and the docks beyond. His ferry waits for him, and he still has not a single plan. Perhaps he’ll think of something while crossing the Channel.  

“This is my stop.” He says to no one but himself, closing his book and slipping it into his carpetbag. He rises and reaches above his head for his suitcase. With a huff, he grips both bags, and shoulders his way out of the compartment. He hears a gasp of air wrenched from his someone’s lungs and a loud BAM. A cane clatters to the floor, and Aziraphale drops his bags in horror. 

“Oh, my dear boy, I am so terribly sorry!” Aziraphale fumbles for an apology, and instantly bends to grab the cane. Unfortunately, so does the man, and their foreheads collide. Stars dance in front of Aziraphale’s eyes as he winces, both men clutching their heads. “Oh, how clumsy of me.”

“Satan’s sake! This is the last thing I needed this morning!” 

Aziraphale freezes and the man suddenly stops when he finally looks at Aziraphale. 

I know that voice…

 After a pause, as he prays his eyes aren’t deceiving him, Aziraphale’s gaze travels up, meeting the shaded gaze holding what he knows to be snake-like eyes blown wide, just like his own. 

“...Crowley?”

[justal0wk3yg4mer]

Things I’ve Said: Outlast 2 (Some Spoilers) with friends!....again.

The returning horror game series with my wonderful friends! Last time my post looked a little all over the place, I apologize, I forgot the bullets. This time there will be bullets and...........the guys get nicknames!!! There is Whiskey (always drinks whiskey), Goldilocks (it’s his hair), Doodle (he can do the doodle bob voice really well), Peaches (Doodle made a comment about how he always smells like peaches), Gramps (He’s grouchy), Scary Spice (He’s like a big bro to me and is really protective), Blue (Accidently poured blue paint on himself), and your humble blogger is lovingly named Baby Spice (why? cause I’m the youngest and must be protected }:( ). That way it’s a little less confusing (and the guys really wanted me to use our nicknames). We were a little drunk while playing this because we knew some fucked up stuff was going to happen so it took us a minute to finish it. For those that are curious I am not just doing Outlast, I am currently working through Prototype right now and will be finished with it soon. Now on with the show!!! 

Me and friends:

Player/Real life actions:

Character dialogue:

Me: Has anyone actually played this game yet?                                          *Lots of head shaking and no’s*                                                                  Me: OOF boys big OOF.                                                         

Blue: Your only choices are run, hide, or die.............hm, sounds festive.

“I’m scared.”                                                                                             Me: Bitch meeee too. 

Peaches: Red leather yellow leather. Red leather yellow leather. Red leather yellow yeat--FUCK.

Gramps: If there is going to be a lot of emphasis on religion in this game then I’m gonna need more alcohol.                                                              Me: Yeah. Hey, aren’t you catholic?                                                              *takes a shot and slams the glass* Gramps: YEP

Whiskey: Holy shit! He talks!

Me: Woman’s comfort? What the fuck does that even...........oh there are people in the grass. People with glowy eyes. Nope no thank you.

*Reads another letter.* Doodle: What the fuck is going on with the women in this town?!

Me: Fucking bird.

Scary Spice: That bitch is uuuuugly!

Blake: “God wants me dead.....Okay.”                                                      Me and Goldilocks: Saaaaaamme.

Gramps: These people worship this fat bastard? 

All the guys: Period.                                                                                       Me: Fuck you guys.

Me: WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!?!?!?! 

Blue: Oh, buddy it can get a lot worse.                                                          Whiskey: Why do people say that anyway? You’re just asking for it to get worse.                                                                                                            Peaches: It’s man’s way of trying to understand and cope with the unnatural order of life’s cruel fate.                                                                Me: I was gonna say cause y’all think it’s funny to tempt karma but that’ll work. 

Me: Hey there fella, come hide down in my cellar. You’ll be alright........maybe. 

Gramp: Oh great first children of the corn, now fucking men of the corn.     Me: Yeah, but at least you could fix the children. Can’t really do anything here.                                                                                                              Gramps: If Blake wasn’t such a pussy, I’d be fighting everyone. These hands are rated E.                                                                                        Goldilocks: E?                                                                                              Gramps: E for everyone.

Me: I really like the stars in this game. They’re very beautiful.                      Scary Spice: You are too innocent for this game.

Blake: “A teacher once told me that the music of birds was proof that God exists and loves us.”                                                                 Gramps: Fuck, I need a drink.                                                                     Peaches: Why? You have been drinking.                                                     Gramps: I’ve heard that same shit before.

Me: Ah! Tentacle monster!                                                                            Doodle: Wouldn’t surprise me if there was hentai in this game.

Goldilocks: Baby Spice, for the sake of our drunken hearts, fucking run! You are begin chased!!!! 

*Comes across the woman on a bed.* Scary Spice: This is so fucked. 

Me: By dawn? That’s not how pregnancy works.

Peaches: Guys, I’m confused. I thought Val was a female. But fatty-          Me: That’s not fatty. He is fat bastard, we’ve discussed this.                        Peaches: My bad, didn’t mean to disrespect fatty. Anyway, fat bastard just called Val a male. So which is it?                                                                  Blue: Surprise, fucked up religious town is actually very progressive.

Gramps: Yay, back in the corn.

*Lockers burst open and all of us jump* Blue: Why the fuck aren’t we jumping at dead bodies and other legitiment things. Why lockers and birds?                                                                                                            Peaches: One, we’re drunk. Two, as sad as this might be, we may be use to the bodies. *And not two minutes later the monster jumps out and makes us all scream.* Peaches: Are you fucking happy?!?!? 

Me: I’d like to solve the puzzle now.                                                              Doodle: Go ahead.                                                                                      Me: Is it strangle?                                                                                          Doodle: That is correct!

Scary Spice: Dude, I really don’t think bandages are gonna help. You know you have bones in your hand right? 100% you wouldn’t be able to use your hands.                                                                                            Me: Videogame logic. Gotta love it.

Doodle: Congrats guys! We are officially half way through the game!          Everyone else: Fuuuuuuucckkk!!!!

*Tounge/tentacle comes out of the phone*                                                    Doodle: See! See! Hentai!

Whiskey: Why hasn’t someone drop kicked that little fucker yet?

Gramps: *Humming Row Row Row Your Boat*

*Listening to Blake rant about the ‘christians’ and heretics*                           Me: I’m so glad he has a moment to discuss the obvious, just in case we haven’t been paying attention.                                                                      Blue: What a guy.

Scary Spice: It’s rainin’ blood!                                                                        Everyone else: Hallelujah! It’s rainin’ blood.                                                  Scary Spice: You guys complete me.

*Val appears.* Whiskey: I’m gonna throw up.

*Finally reaches Lynn but get caught by Val and then it blinks to a memory.*                                                                                                        Me: What the fuck just happened? I’m lost.                                                  Goldilocks: Same. Gramps look it up.                                                            Scary Spice: I already did. By the way Val is trans.                                      Me: Good for them.                                                                         Peaches: Well? *Scary Spice explains what happens to us and we are all in shock and disgust.*                                                                                    Doodle: NO MEANS FUCKING NO! 

Me and Doodle: PREGANANANT!                                                                Me: Also again, not how pregnancy works.

Blue: Be careful he says. I’ll help you down he says. Fucking drops her.

*Everyone at this point is very concerned for Lynn and is begging Blake to carry her.*

*Watching the birth scene* Everyone: EEEEEWWWWwwww.

Me: Shut the fuck up you fat bastard, it’s a baby. Take one step toward Blake or the baby and I’ll jump into this game and cut you.                          Scary Spice: Preach.

Goldilocks: Guys I don’t think that’s the sun.

Doodle: Did we die?                                                                                      Me: Yeah dude. We died.                                                                              Doodle: Well that fucking sucks. 

And that is the end. Now, I’m sure as some of you know in 2021 we will be getting another Outlast so the boys and I will be playing that whenever it comes out (no matter how terrifying and gruesome). For this post I was able to get a better tally because my dearest friend *coughGrampscough* got me one of those counting clickers for my B-day! Jokes on him, he got to hear that clicking the whole time. So ladies and gents, the most accurate tally for this game is (the tally is this because of the amount of voices we would randomly hear or we would say it to one another):

STFU: 579                                                                               

[exodusmc]

Ocean eyes

Genre: merman au, soulmate au

Words: 2461

Paring: Merman Jimin x reader 

Warning!: Drowning( but not really)

a/n: This is a different stroy. More open-ended, for everyone to make their own story. 

My edit but feel free to use it

“I don't want to go” staring at the wall with a blank face had you fuming on the inside. Your friend had been whining at you for over a week to go to that stupid land of sand and big death hole. 

“Why not?!” Ulji stated over the phone, dragging Soohyun into her mission.  

“Because I don't like the water nor sand” 

“But there will be hot boys!” her hormones was unbalanced and consuming her intellect. Soohyun chuckled over the line, you could picture her playing with her delicate painted nails. Let’s just say that she is the graceful one of your friends. 

“I don't care! Go fix your hormones and leave me alone” you huffed before hearing a soft voice, belonging to Soohyun, saying bye. 

You were left alone in your room, grateful to your more sensible friend, but couldn't help to feel the cool scary sensation of water pulling you in, deeper into its grasp. It’s true you don't like the ocean but you felt like you had a reason for it. You loved the water as a child, playing in it, feeling free because of it, but seeing a kid drown before you, almost following them, had you scared beyond death to even step inside the ocean. You shuddered remembering the small body slack and lungs burning. 

-

Next day was hotter than an oven, the sun fryinging you even in the shadow. Cursing the ball of gas, you opted to stay inside, reading. Peace had finally wrapped you in its arms when your door littelry flew up, a high voice screaming. You knew who it was and every fiber in you tensed, a big blue land tugging at your mind.

“Come Y/n! It’s time for the beach!” fear rolled in your eyes but you hid it behind rage and thirst for blood. 

“It’s to warm in here..” Soohyun stalked after Ulji, her lips painted even if she was supposed to go swim. 

“What in the world are you doing here?” nose flared at your friends, who were lovely in any other circumstances besides now. 

“Taking you somewhere fun!” Ulji laughed and you couldn't help but grit your teeth. 

“Who of you two thought I would come with you when I refused yesterday?” Soohyun smiled, arm draping around your shoulders. 

“Come with us, I promise it will be fun”

-

And that is how you ended up on the beach, old memories crawling over your skin. You tried to not let it show but it was hard. Clutching your bag, you took a deep breath. Everyone who you ever told about the accident would say that it weren't your fault, and they were right, but you still felt guilty. Someone lost their life, someone lost their loved one, and if you just had done something, maybe they would still be alive. 

“Y/n, something wrong?” Soohyun looked at you for a second, her eyes holding regret for forcing you here. 

“No I’m fine” you didn't mean to sound so mad but all the feeling you felt made you stressed. 

“I’m going to read” Soohyun gazed after you, wondering about your fear of the ocean. She didn't understand how you could be so afraid, not even stepping a foot in the water. 

Soohyun suddenly felt bad. There was something you weren't telling her and maybe it was something which hurt you, connected to the fear of the sea. Ulji had a small tendency to not see deeper than the surface. She just thought you didn't want to go and with no good reason, but Soohyun just had to see your eyes to realise that you were hurting and hiding. 

“Where’s Y/n?” Ulji smiled up to the taller one, naivety shining in her eyes.

“She’s reading..Let’s take a swim..” Soohyun dragged the youngest away, soon having distracted her with boys and given you some peace and quiet. 

You tried to read but the sound of water and people made you nervous. It was like you were a child again, waiting to stumble down into the deepest end of your world. You stared the whole ocean out, finding a spot where it connected to the sky. There weren't any good spots with shadows so you started to feel the burn from the sun. You wanted to feel cold and the only way for that to happen where you stood, would be to step into the ocean, which you couldn't. Maybe I should just go home. It was tempting, running away like you had for years but something made you want to fight, to take back your power. Heart racing in your ears was drowning out the soft swishing sounds of the coast. Your throat became drier the closer you got to the water but you stalked on, stubbornness forcing you. The shore almost touched your feet and it made your breathing hard. No-one was around you, no-one could save you, and maybe that was what pushed you to wander out into the ocean. Memories of its embrace wash over you, your hair standing. It didn't feel so scary anymore, like the death never happened. Pushing forward, you felt a little easier, your heartbeats a little slower. A smile spread over you face, almost crazy, when the water enveloped everything under your chest. Adrenalin raced through your veins, it being the cause to your fastening air intake. You didn't even realise it when your feet no-longer reached the ground. Your whole body was afloat for a second and it felt so amazing. You were free again but sudden panic exploded in you, the panic to breathe. You screamed, slipping down and away from the surface. Your body tried desperately to move, to see the sun but couldn't. You thrashed in the water, every wound from the accident ripping open. Water drowned you, replacing the air in your lungs. 

“..No” you whispered, rage filling you, rage at yourself. Why in the world would you did you think this was a good idea. It finally claimed you, like it should have done all those years ago. 

“What are you doing?!” Namjoon screeched at the younger one, who swam with a girl in his arms. He didn't listen, just fought with time and the mortality of humanity. 

Jimin moved as fast he could, having heard the screams of agony and plead for life and not death. Namjoon was hot on his tail, purple hair and eyes alike. The water was deep but no match for his tail, shining blue like a saphier and the sky. Jimin saw the cave they stayed in, fin burning from the work. He broke the surface, laying the girl on some rocks. He managed to do mouth to mouth. The girl coughed up so much water, he didn't believe it was all in her body. Jin had come as well, pink hair damp over his eyes. 

“What happened?” he sounded out his question, directing it to Namjoon who looked stressed. 

“He just took her!” Jimin's face contracted in annoyance, not understanding why they were so cold. The girl would have died if he didn't do anything and the thought of her dying made his blood stop flowing. He stared down at her, eyes closed but breathing. 

“Don't  be so insensitive!” Jimin never snapped but this time couldn't he control his temper. 

Namjoon and Jin stared at the younger, quiet. He who was the oldest started to feel and see something deeper than just rescuing a poor soul. Like they shared a fate with each other. Jin furrowed his eyebrows, carefully moving to sit beside your sleeping body and Jimin. Namjoon went to them as well, looking over you and remembering someone who only could be saved by ocean tear. 

“Do you remember?” Jin asked, glancing at the scar over Jimin’s chest, right over his heart. 

“I do…”it was painful, the memories of dying and being born of the water. Jimin absent minded laid a hand over his heart, feeling the ragged edges. He touched your hair, plucking a strand to swirl around his fingers. It felt like he knew you, had met you before but couldn't remember you. Jimin knew that you didn't go to the beach, he would have seen you if you did, and still had this nagging feeling of recognition.  

“What do we do now?” Namjoon sighed, rising from the water, fin laying on the rocks. 

“I’m not sure. She’s alive but..things may still not work out. She needs a doctor” Jimin watched you pained. He knew you had to go, preferably without knowing him and his secret but he didn't want you to. Fingers dragged over your cold skin, having almost died. Jimin wondered if he could still see you, after all this, because he couldn't let you go. 

“Get the ocean breath. Let’s take her somewhere else” Jimin held you close to his body, watching Jin make you eat a fruit from the ocean which granted you air for a shirt while, enough to get you to the surface. 

“She will be fine” but will I?

-

Your whole body felt  sore, lungs burning. Chills went over your skin and you sat up so fast, you saw stars. A hoarse scream  left you, the frightening feeling of death chasing you. Arms wrapped around you but it didn't relax you, it pushed you to fight even if everything hurt. 

“Relax! Breathe!” a voice you had never heard before made you finally open your swollen eyes, locking them with a pair of ocean blue ones. 

“Who are you?!” you wanted to be loud but couldn't. Your throat feeling raw and like it was bleeding. 

“I’m Jimin..I-I found you..a-and I” the boy stutter his words but you didn't listen, instead taking in his features. 

He had blue hair, falling in a middle part, slightly damp. His lips plump and jaw sharp, like a v. However, those weren't the things that caught most of your, it was his shining tail. Under his belly button, blue scales followed what should have been his legs, ending with a light teal fin. He had abs and a scar which looked misplaced on his chest. You stared wide eyed, not believing your eyes or maybe you were dead and there was no angels but mermen. Jimin took in your confused gaze, smiling sadly because now, now were you dragged into his life. 

“I am a-”

“A merman?” you  asked, looking in his eyes. It was something about him, something familiar. You had seen him before but when? 

“Yes” his eyes disappeared into half moons when he smiled, it seemed sad. You glanced down his chest again, the lines of his scar rugged and forming what looked like a drop. 

“W-who are you?” am I even alive? The question suddenly hitting you hard. You could be dead now. 

“Am I alive?” Jimin looked over your face, realising that you thought you had drowned and seeing something which weren't supposed to exist messed with your brain. 

“You’re alive. I promise..What’s your name?” your skin crawled, eyes moving around you. Stone enclosed you and Jimin, probably a cave. It was beautiful, the water reflecting slightly in roof, like a sky under the sea. You saw krystals which sat around you, colors changing. 

“I’m Y/n…” Jimin moved to sit beside you, fin in the water. He didn't really know what to do, even if he once had been a human too. 

“Soo..Ehm do you have any questions?” you looked at him, having may but couldn't choose one to start with. 

“I didn't know you existed.. “ a feeling of awkwardness spread through your body, which slowly gained some warmth. 

“I didn't either..” Jimin chuckled lightly, making you frown in confusion. 

“You didn't?”

“No..I’m not born a merman..I..I almost died when I was younger, but Jin saved me..from drowning” he looked at you, taking in you, your legs. He sometimes wonder what could have been, if he still was human but he would never have met the guys if he lived. 

“Really..?” he nodded, hair bouncing around him. Jimin weren't what you had expected, his dialect taking you back to your home town. 

Jimin watched your eyes widen in terror, a slight tremble to you lips. He panicked, sure you were going to die right then and there. Hands fell on your shoulders, ready to save you but you had just realised why he was familiar, why you had seen him before.

“W-where did you drown?” you leaned closer, searching for his eyes, the eyes of the child which had disappeared before yours. You remember them like brown and with Jimin’s shape. 

“Outside a town..”

“Busan” your hometown left both of your lips, eyes wided. 

You had found him, the one you made yourself believe you killed, but he was alive. Maybe not breathing in a sense but alive nonetheless. You didn't know what to do, selfish relief washing over you as tears trailed down your cheeks. Jimin stared at you in beliverment, confused as to why you were crying, still pulling you into his embrace. 

“I thought you died!” you cried out, not hurting anymore. The burden you had been caring for so long just disappeared. 

“Oh okay?” you actually laughed, realising Jimin had no clue about your sudden emotional break. 

“I-I was there. I saw you drown when I was young and ever since have it felt it was my fault” you dried your tears, smiling blissfully at him. 

Jimin too realised why he thought you were familiar. You had played with him when the two of you swam too far away from the shore, resulting in his death. A blush crept over his cheeks because there was something else, something Jin told him when he awoke after the transformation. The connection he had to you.  

“Y/n..I was told that the one who was the last one to see me as human, would be linked to my soul..”Jimin stared at you and you stared back. 

“What?” soul mates doesn’t exist but neither do mermen. Everything was becoming too much. Your bliss ceasing, new responsibilities slowly holding your hands. 

“And that’s not the only thing..You could help me back” his mind wandered away, you saw it in his eyes, to a place where he could see his parents, where you could be with..you.

“How?”

“I’m not sure..but something about my past and the connection to you could do it..” he trailed of, watching you, actually feeling you in his heart, his human heart.

It was like star gazing, looking in his eyes and only the future laid before you, but would it be with him by your side or you by his?