#and also for clarity because they apologized right before she died and she wants to know what they were apologizing for

[kung-fu-cutbug]

you ever just take a randomly-generated Rogue Legacy 2 character and make them into a Guilty Gear OC just because you can

[sonntam]

Preface to God of War "Lore and Legends"

Sunlight is rare in Wildwoods these days. Nonstop snow falls faintly, day after day. Some mornings we hunt food and chop firewood. Other days we clear lost souls from the forest near our compound: Draugr, Reaver, Hel-Walker, sometimes a beast or hissing Revenant. We work so well together now. Even the tough ones fall fast.

But most of our time is spent at the hearth. During the long hours, Father tends the fire and seasons the stew. Sometimes he tries to decipher scrolls we collected on our journey. Are my rune lessons finally sinking in? Hard to say. Meanwhile, I’ve taken to revisiting this journal. Its loose leaf pages are easy to move, so I’ve spent time reorganizing and rebinding them into chapters that are more useful for reference.

As I reread old entries, I add to them. I’m older, and I know so many new things now.

When I do this, I feel Mother’s presence.

—

She taught me so much — how to read runes, how to hear the forest. She told me the tales of Norse gods, giants, men, and monsters. On our walks, she’d show me how to see with “wide-open eyes” — even familiar things, things I thought I already knew. Over time, she said, a watchful person sees familiar things differently. Some seem brighter, some darker. Some even offer vapory glimpses of the future.

Mother also taught me how to write about what I see. That’s why I sense her now. Together, after one of our treks, we’d review what I’d written. She’d ask simple questions about my observations — questions I sometimes couldn’t answer. This often upset me.

She would say: Just open your eyes wider and look again.

That’s what I tried to do with my journal. With help from Father and Mimir, I’ve reviewed our journey, step by step, with wider eyes. I reread my original observations then added anything I’ve learned since. In some cases, I attached new pages. But anything I’ve added is clearly marked as such. Mother always demanded honesty as well as clarity in my writing.

And so, I will honor her memory, even as I sense her near me now.

—

There’s one more thing I want to mention here at the start. It’s about Father.

When firewood is stacked high and the larder is full of smoked meat, Father and I often “relax” by training in the yard. He is a warrior, after all. He likes to keep his skills harp, and truth be told, so do I. My Talon Bow can never match his Leviathan Axe for sheer power, but if I choose the right arrow, its sting can weaken even powerful foes.

Father is pleased with my agility and timing. He actually tells me so!

And this is the thing.

Since I was very young, I could “hear” feelings in animals. On rare occasions, I could even hear Mother. But trying to probe Father’s feelings was like banging on a Traveler Champion’s shield. Before our journey, his long silences roared in my head. He guarded something cold inside. I could see it in his eyes. And when Mother died, they seemed to get colder.

But then something happened in Alfheim.

—

It was early in our journey. We had retrieved the Light of Alfheim (a terribly hard task) and were canoeing back to Tyr’s Bridge. As Father paddled, I mentioned Mother and I saw his eyes go cold again.

But when I challenged him, Father seemed to burst. His pain rolled over me like a hot wave. He said: “Do not mistake my silence for lack of grief! Mourn how you wish. Leave me to my own.”

And then I understood. I apologized. At that moment, things changed between us.

It was just as Mother predicted. Eyes I’d seen so many times before — eyes I thought I knew so well — suddenly changed because I opened my own eyes and saw them differently. I’d always seen Father as cold and uncaring. In truth, he is exactly the opposite.

And that’s why I’ve pored through my journal, word for word, looking at what I saw then, and adding what I know now.

I mean, I’m older, right? I’m not just a boy. At least, I don’t feel like a boy. Father doesn’t call me “boy” anymore, unless I complain about his stew.

—

And so, Father talks to me now.

Okay, not a lot. Sometimes just a word or two: “Fine shot!” or “Does it need more salt?” But sometimes, late at night, he stares into the orange embers and recalls Mother to me —or, as I like to think of her, Laufey the Giantess Warrior, she who first wielded Leviathan. So cool! Even Father didn’t know that. And as I've reread and revised this journal, I’ve come to realize something.

This is Father’s story, almost as much as it is mine.

Masterpost with God of War "Lore and Legends" transcriptions.

[eaudelune]

Hi so I’m really going through it atm and would appreciate some input/advice please💕 so i just found out that the guy I was talking to for a year long distance has had a gf all this time...the girl reached out to me calling my phone and I knew immediately it was weird that a Miami number was calling me...anyway she was wondering who I was because she said she saw my number on her boyfriends phone...I told her everything then sent her screenshots to confirm. While I was sending her them, the guy was texting me and then I called him and was like “you have a girlfriend” and he goes “you had a dating app” then hung up and blocked me...I don’t understand this because why would he cheat with me for a year just to block me when the girlfriend found out?? She said they broke up too...I’m just so hurt. She also blocked me after telling her everything so I can’t ask her if they are actually broken up or not...I tried calling him many times a weeks after from No Caller ID and he texts me “stop fucking calling, how it’s clearly over, to move on, stop being so obsessed” I denied it but I was just so hurt especially because he’s lied to me and led me on for what?? Why do this to me when we’re long distance why hurt me like that? Anyway, like 2 weeks later called me many times kept telling me to call him so did he goes “just wanted to apologize clear the air sorry you had to go through all that” and I was like “ok” then before I could say more he hung up and blocked me....then like 2 weeks after that messaged me “yo, kept calling me and I told him I couldn’t talk that I was at work at he goes “right” and I was like “I am” and he goes “bet” and I was like “what” and he goes “forget it” and I was like “?” Then he emphasized it...then I said I could talk later and he liked the text then I sent him “If you’re going to be rude and upset me then we don’t need to talk. You’ve really hurt me a lot. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend all this time so would have never even come to Miami to begin with to see you...that is gross. you putting me in the middle hasn’t been fair especially being that you’ve lied to me so much, made my anxiety way worse we’ve just hookup and you’ve left me every time being blacked out and all and could have died..... I really don’t understand why you would do that to me...or this girl really. You’ve wasted my time and money and don’t know why you would think that is okay....” then he emphasized that we would talk later but then when I tried to call him blocked again....why is he doing this?? Then I just stopped calling him for 2 weeks then this last Monday he calls me 3 times in a row, texts me “yo” then within 15 minutes blocked me before I could answer him..why is he doing this? I don’t understand and then blocking me....I left him alone so I’m really not understanding I’m also not understanding why he blocked me when the gf found out but would do this to me for a year....

Hello there!

I’m sorry that you are going through this. I can understand how deeply heartbreaking this situation can be. :(

To me, from what I’ve learned and from what I am feeling is that this situation is teaching you about how to value yourself; to know how precious, beautiful, and worthy you are!

It is teaching you to know that you deserve all that is good&best for you. It is teaching you how to take care of you. It is teaching you lessons on yourself so you can break free from this toxic cycle/pattern/situation … and much more! Once you learn your lessons and what you need to learn and understand from this situation, things will change for the better. You will know what to do to move forward in the best way possible for you.

Maybe asking yourself some questions may help you to bring clarity to your situation and learn about yourself. For exemple;

Do I still love him? - Do I still want him? - Do I need someone to be respectful of my needs and feelings? - Do I still want to be with him? - How do I want and need to be treat in a relationship? - What do I need from him? - Do I still want a long distance relationship? - Is it possible, at this moment, to have a mature and authentic conversation with this person so I can understand him better? - What am I expecting from him and this situation? - Are my expectations realism considering the situation? - Do I want or/and need to answer him when he keeps coming back? - Do I still want to deal with this third-party situation to make it work or not? - Do I still trust him? - Do I want to work on my myself and the relationship to built trust between us? - Should I let go of him or do I want to work on myself and my relationship to make it work? - Do I need boundaries with this situation, with him, with myself? - Do I need to block them? - What do I need to take care of me at this time? - What do I need from him so I can trust him again? And, so on.

(When it is appropriate, to ask the question why to your answers.)

So, my advice would be to bring back your attention, your focus and your energy more on yourself first. Self-awareness is key, especially awareness on your needs and wants. By understanding yourself and by learning what you need for yourself, chances are that you will start understanding him as well and your view on the situation will also change.

On another side, it’s understandable that you are trying to understand the betrayal and wanting to find answers on it. Maybe you need more personal contexts or perspectives from his side to make sense of his actions? Maybe there is a lack of communication? Maybe some misunderstandings on your relationships? Maybe he doesn’t even know, himself, why he is acting that way? Maybe he doesn’t possess the level of self-awareness and self-understanding required to meet your needs so he can explain himself to you at the moment? Maybe some personal triggers are coming out and he’s acting in unconscious behaviors because he’s in pain himself? I can’t really know what is going on with him (or even with the relationship) if you ask me but maybe trying to understand him in a more general way like this could be a possible option for you at the moment.

Also, consider to take as much time and space that you need from the connection so you can reflect on all this. Distancing yourself (energetically) from him as much as you need may help to start the healing so you can take a step back and see what choices and decisions to make that will support you for your highest good and the highest good of all involved in the situation. You’ll find the answers in your heart, trust it.

I’m not sure if this is the kind of advices or inputs you were looking for and I am sorry if it’s not the case. But I really hope I was able to help you in a way or the other :) Don’t forget to be kind with yourself in the process and trust yourself first above all.

I wish you a good day/night to you! Sending you lots of love, dear Anon.

[wheelsup]

the taming of the shrew | two

if i be waspish, best beware my sting

after some setbacks, penelope is willing to do anything to get you back on board. but has spencer already ruined things?

A/N: hello! im so sorry that this posting schedule is super inconsistent. the more i thought about this chapter, the less i liked the more technical aspects of it. but! i hope you enjoy to plot aspect of it nonetheless <3 thanks for reading!

category: fluff, slow burn series, spencer reid x fem!reader

wc: 4.4k

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Since that phone call with Penelope, she’d been over nearly every night for a week with plates of treats and onslaughts of apologies. Each time she came knocking, you told her there was no amount of persuasion that could change your mind. And yet the following night, she’d be there, a new type of pastry in hand and a new set of reasons why Spencer was worth the trouble.

First, she brought blueberry muffins and reasoned that deep below that prickly exterior, he really was everything she promised –– sweet and caring. But that must be deep, deep down. Like, The Lost City of Atlantis, deep down, because you didn’t expect it to surface any time soon. 

Then, she brought fudge brownies and explained that his behavior wasn’t personal –– he was getting snippy with everyone lately. And while you maintained that anybody would have a hard time getting along with Spencer, you were absolutely positive that it was now impossible for you. 

Quite frankly, it wasn’t just Spencer who was unwilling to play nice. You hated him. More than you’ve ever hated a stranger. 

You wished him a lifetime riddled with minor inconveniences that would drive him to the edge of insanity. You wanted him to miss all his trains by just a quarter of a minute; close enough so that he could see it leave the platform, knowing he almost made it on. You wanted him to constantly feel like he was about to sneeze. You wanted his socks to be perpetually wet, and if he should happen to put on a dry pair? You hoped he stepped in a puddle.

That was all you could think about as you laid out on your couch, munching on one of Penelope’s lemon bars while she paced around your apartment. She kept going on and on advertising Spencer to you. As annoying as it was, she was also saving you a ton on groceries that week. 

For the most part, you filtered her out. Not a single word that came out of her mouth was believable anymore, especially not when she was talking about Spencer. Despite what Penelope thought of him, you saw in him what she refused to accept. 

As her speech came to a close, she looked at you like she expected a response to dignify her prattling. 

“Give it a rest, Penelope. He’s a lost cause,” you laughed dryly. “He doesn’t need –– nor does he want –– anyone in his life.” At the very least, he definitely didn’t want you. 

“Yes, that’s the problem!” If you’d been listening to her, you would’ve heard her saying the same thing. “He doesn’t want to date!” 

Your head just about exploded when she said that. 

There had been countless, fruitless conversations about this, and all along she saw the gaping hole in her supposedly airtight plan?

“If he doesn’t want to DATE, then WHAT was the point of this?!” Your fingers pressed the bridge of your nose; you suddenly felt a headache coming on. Funny how it always happened around the time of day that Penelope came to visit.

Penelope stopped pacing. She stalked over to your couch, picked your legs up by your ankle, and moved them to make space for herself. You begrudgingly sat upright as she took her place beside you. 

“Because he’s not himself anymore. He’s not open like he used to be. Not to the people who care about him the most, and certainly not to the world.”  

Penelope toyed with the hem of her dress, distracting herself from her quivering lip before pressing on, “Spencer Reid has always wanted love. And it’s not right that he no longer believes he can have it.” 

You hadn’t seen Penelope look so desperate until now. It was concerning. Because what could make her look so hopeless? What could make Spencer so hopeless? 

“Penelope, I don’t know what’s wrong with your little friend, but… there’s a lot more bubbling inside him than you’re letting on.” 

She chewed up the insides of her cheeks, wincing to herself at your incredibly accurate claim. 

“You are hiding something, aren’t you?” You narrowed your eyes on her. You were no detective, or whatever exactly her team did, but she was just awful at concealing her thoughts.

“It’s not my story to tell,” she murmured. 

She could already feel herself about to give it away and doubled down her mental defenses against it. Focusing extra hard on keeping Spencer’s privacy intact. If only you knew her track record with secrets, you’d be proud of her for staying quiet this long.

“What isn’t your story?” 

“That his girlfriend died last year.” 

She spilled it before she even realized what she was saying. You’d just asked so nonchalantly that she forgot she was talking aloud. Penelope turned purple, terrified now that the whole truth was out there. 

You couldn’t even take satisfaction in the fact that your trick worked. You were just as mortified as Penelope, and if you weren’t already sitting down, you knew you’d need to. You assumed there was something deeper going on with him, you didn’t think it was a dead girlfriend. That was some Nicholas Sparks shit. 

“He pretends like he’s fine but I know he’s not. And if he found a way to move on, maybe he’d start feeling as okay as he claims to be,” she sniffled before snot could run from her nose, tears lining the rims of her eyes. “I know I should’ve given you the full picture, but I didn’t think you’d go for it if you knew…” 

You were too floored to process it all right away. This added a whole new layer of complicated to an already uneasy arrangement.

“Well, I know you’re right about one thing. I would’ve said no.” 

She gave you a set of pleading eyes, praying you’d see where she was coming from. 

“I know,” she whispered defeatedly. “But maybe... now that you know, you can understand why he acts out the way he does.”

“Penelope, I can’t just… make someone move on, or –– or get them to believe in love! Especially when it’s fake.”

How on Earth did she expect you to pull that off? Did that guy from A Walk to Remember move on when Mandy Moore died? You hadn’t seen the ending of the movie, but you assumed not. 

“I’m sorry, this is just… a lot bigger than the favor I thought it was ––”

“What if I could return it?” she cut in. The gears in her head started to turn, figuring ways to patch up the holes she made. 

“There’s nothing I need from you.” 

That couldn’t be true. Penelope looked around the room and it didn’t take her long to think of it.

“I can help you sell your art,” she tempted, gesturing to the scattered canvases. “You make all your income from this, right?” 

You didn’t want to give any fuel to her fire, but you nodded. “What if… what if you didn’t have to settle for local buyers? What if I told you that you could make way more money selling them to the whole world?”

You chortled at her idea. 

You were a local artist, through and through. Your art got put in local galleries and sold to local buyers. Nothing more, and that was fine with you. You realized it a long time ago that it was just a pipe dream to think you’d be more. 

“I’m serious! You could get a separate painting studio, and stop living in one? Huh?” She wrapped her hand around your shoulder, waving the other in the air, urging you to picture it with her. “Imagine this: a kitchen that’s separate from your living room. A bed, inside it’s own four walls, and more than twelve feet from where you cook your meals.”

Pushing aside her so blatantly insulting your apartment, if that were a possibility, you’d want nothing more. But it already sounded foolish and you hadn’t even heard how she planned to pull it off. 

“Penelope, I’m fine where I am. I make the money I need, and that’s... it’s fine.”

She gave you a pointed look. “You know, I can hack all search engine results to make sure you are what comes up first anytime someone enters the word ‘painting’, right?

An airy chuckle left your lips. Of course she could. You patted her thigh twice and stood up, prompting her to follow you to your door –– hopefully, so she can show herself to the other side of it. “Still no, Pen.” 

“Just take some time to think about it!” Her voice carried through the wood as you shut it on her.

*

There was this one bench in Kenilworth Park – the one that overlooks the crystal clear pond – that you’d always been able to rely on to fix any problem.

There was hidden magic in the bushes that sprawled out from the edges of the water, surrounded by spiky green blades of overgrown grass. A simplicity you loved in baby ducklings paddling into the tiny body of water, swimming close together so they don’t get lost in, what seems to them, a whole ocean. And clarity provided by the freshest air in the world, under the shade of the big oak trees on a late summer afternoon.

But at the present, none of that came close to being enough.

The artist’s block started off as a minor inconvenience, but without your permission, had stretched into weeks of steadily declining motivation. Each new idea felt even worse than the last, and you were acutely aware that there would come a point where you’d officially hit maximum capacity for how awful they could get.

Still, that didn’t seem to light a fire under you. You happily coexisted with the blank pages of your sketchbook. Staring down at them, laying open on your lap in their stark-white glory, you felt like you were playing a waiting game. If you stared long and hard enough, maybe they’d flinch. 

Unfortunately, you never got to find out who won, because your phone rang inside your pocket. As if the caller had interrupted an incredible genius at work (which couldn’t be farther from the truth), you hastily raised the phone to your ear, slamming your sketchbook shut.

“Hello?” Your voice wasn’t as kind as it could be for someone with nothing better to be doing. Two seconds later, you learned who was calling and came to regret it.

“Hi, This is Rebecca from District Arts, calling with a message from Andre ––”

“Oh, hi!” you tried to walk back your previous tone, straightening up in your seat and pitching your voice higher, “Yeah, I’ve been waiting to hear from him!” 

While Rebecca intimidated you, Andre happened to be your closest friend at the gallery. He worked closely with the artists to curate their collection and help them make sales. 

“Does he want to sort out what to set the opening bid prices at for my new pieces?” A handful of days ago, you sent him pictures of your new work and were waiting to hear his thoughts. You’d always been able to trust his opinion, and a vote of confidence from him might be just the thing to inspire you.

“Uhm…” There was a criminally long pause on the other side of the line, ended by Rebecca’s weary inhale. “Unfortunately, we’re calling to inform you that your pieces will not be included in the next rotation.”

For a minute, you weren’t sure what to make of what she said. You’d never heard those words before.

“What – what do you mean?” you laughed nervously. She probably misspoke. Perks of friendship aside, Andre always included you in sets. 

“Ugh, let me just get him…” her voice faded away as she put the phone down. 

That wasn’t exactly the reassuring statement you were looking for. In the time it took for the call to switch hands, your confusion finally melted in. And then quickly boiled into anger.

The District Arts gallery changed their entire collection every two months. The pieces shown accepted rolling bids throughout the full eight weeks, finally selling at the end of term to their highest offer. After that, the pieces got taken down, sent to happy new owners, and the entire gallery reset with entirely new works. 

So if you missed one rotation, that meant waiting two months to get back in.

“Andre, how am I just cut from the gallery!” you barked before he could get a word in. If he didn’t like your work, he could’ve just said so. 

“No one said that ––”

“Okay, let me rephrase.” You pinched the bridge of your nose, something you found yourself doing quite frequently lately, and took a deep breath in and out. It was seemingly just for show because it did absolutely nothing to calm you down. “Why wouldn’t you put me in the next set? I’m in all of them!”

“I know you are!” He sounded just as upset. “It’s just that… we give you the biggest space we have, because you always manage to fill it up. But this time… I’m not so sure you can.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed. “What makes you say that?” You asked that, but you knew.

“You’ve only finished three pieces… I’m worried how you’ll deliver seven more before we set up.”

“But… it’s four weeks away, I could do ––”

“And it took you four weeks to make what you have... I’m sorry. We couldn’t take that gamble.” 

He took your silence as an opportunity to turn off the work talk and speak, just friend to friend. 

“You know that I trust you and I’d hold that spot if I could. But, I also know what you’re going through right now, and… I don’t know, maybe letting yourself rest would be a good thing?” 

Your heart paused. By, “knowing what you’re going through”, you assumed he didn’t mean the little artist’s block.

“If you’re implying that I can’t do my job because of what happened with Cyrus –”

“I’m not, I’m not....” he backtracked as quickly as he could. “But take another look at the paintings you showed me and tell me if they feel like you.”

Even if he was right, you wanted to fight him. You wanted to cry. You wanted to beg that you didn’t need that big space; you were willing to downsize and just turn in the three that you had. Even if they got shoved into the corner where hardly anybody bothered to look. You just couldn’t afford to go two months without the income. 

But even with tears beading up, you realized that the gallery couldn’t afford it either. They needed to bring in money and you couldn’t do that for them this time. So they were right to go to someone who can.

“Right,” you sniffled, recollecting yourself so he can’t hear the shakiness in your voice. “I understand. It’s a big risk, like you said… It’s for the better.”

Andre tried to thank you for being understanding and spewed some sort of encouragement. The words flew over your head. You managed to toss in a few ‘mhmm’s and ‘sure’s at the right places to coast you along until the call finally ended. 

As soon as it went dead, you dropped your phone to the side and brought your hands to your face, rubbing them furiously over your cheeks. Your fingertips pressed hard into your eyelids, trying to forcibly reabsorb the tears threatening to spill. 

It almost worked, until you tried to breathe. 

A full sob escaped in that one gulp of air and you succumbed to it. But the loud crunching noise of some pedestrian walking over the falling leaves destroyed your sense of privacy, and you quickly wiped away all signs of your breakdown. The crunching stopped just short of your bench and on instinct you flicked your eyes up to see who the intruder was.

You did a double take. It was him. That fucking asshole.

He was standing there, looking dumber than you could even remember, with his hands in his coat pockets and a curious look on his face as he watched you cry. Tucking your sketchbook under your arm in haste, you made it a point to stand up with as much aggression as possible, rolling your eyes at him.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving,” you barked. “No need to yell at me this time.”

You bristled past him, barely refraining yourself from checking his shoulder as payback. You wanted to believe you were better than him, but it did sound incredibly tempting. He stood there for a moment before turning on his heel and following you.

“Wait,” he groaned.

You didn’t listen, neither stopping nor slowing down.

“I said wait,” he huffed as he caught up to you, popping up at your side and jogging along as you kept going.

“Yeah, because I need to listen to a guy who yells at strangers in bookstores.” 

Now that you’d brought up the elephant in the room, your feet started moving even faster, working double time to get you away from him.

Damn the fact that he had those long legs. He didn’t even break a sweat trying to keep up. He was inescapable.

“Well, if you waited like I asked, you would’ve gotten an apology for the ––”

“Gee, thanks!” you yelled, stopping for only a second to turn to him and give him a mocking bow of your head, hands clasped together like you were praising at his altar. “I was waiting with bated breath for that! Thank you, kind sir, for now my life can go on.”

“Look, I’m actually sorry,” he snapped. Then in realizing the irony, softened his voice, “I’m sorry for being rude. I was having a bad day… not that that’s an excuse.”

You stared at him blankly, just watching his mouth moving quickly and waiting until it finally stopped. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Did you… did you not hear what I just said?!” 

“No, sorry,” you smiled, voice sweet like sugar. “My ears filter bullshit. Wanna try again?”

He scoffed, looking away like he couldn’t believe you before stepping even closer. “What’s your problem?”

“Me!? The fuck –– what the fuck is your problem?” You turned and stormed off again, seething at his audacity. Spencer just couldn’t relent his annoying tendencies and followed yet again.

“My problem is that I’m trying to be nice, and you’re not letting me!”

You got a good, hard laugh out of that. “Okay, first of all, having to apologize for yelling at me and pushing me isn’t exactly the best starting point for the journey of becoming a nice person.”

“Like I said, I was having a bad day.” 

Under your breath, you muttered, “Well, I hope this one’s even worse.”

“Why are you such a ––” He stopped himself from finishing that thought. Even in his worst mood, he wouldn’t cross that line. 

But he didn’t need to finish it, you knew exactly where he wanted to take it. The soles of your shoes scraped against the loose gravel as you came to a grinding halt, ears ringing.

“A what?” You turned to face him, a sarcastic smile on your face growing wider as he started to shrink more and more. You got up close in his face, daring him to say what he really wanted to. So he could reinforce your belief in exactly the type of person he was. “A what?” 

Spencer pursed his lips and shook his head, refusing to say it no matter how much you challenged him. If he wasn’t going to have the balls to say it, you decided to take it upon yourself.

“Tell you what, you keep thinking about it and get back to me the next time you’re in a cunty mood.” 

The word he was thinking of was probably not as bad, but you had a habit of escalating things. Even if you took this one too far, you didn’t care. 

Before you tried to take off again, Spencer’s hand flew to your elbow. He tugged you back, forcing you to turn around and face him. He didn’t know his own strength; without any resistance, you came stumbling into his chest, at risk of falling over if it weren’t for his tight grip on your arm.

It took you a beat to push him away with both your hands on his chest, vocalizing your disgust for being so close to him. 

“Can you stop trying to disagree with me for a second? I’m trying to tell you that you’re right, I was being a… well, you know…” He avoided the word. Apparently ‘cunt’ was where he drew the line. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve it.” 

Your nostrils were still flared and blood hot as ever, but he made you pause. He looked sincere, if not a little tinged with guilt as well. You were suspicious of it.

“You saw me crying and felt bad, didn’t you?”

He laughed darkly. “Well, I saw you, yes. Did I feel bad? No.” 

“Oh, my God,” you growled, berating yourself for getting close to believing he might be capable of decency. 

“I’m joking! I’m joking.” He squeezed your elbow twice in earnest. “I did feel bad, but that’s not why I wanted to say it.”

“Okay.” You weren’t ready to give him a real smile, so you flattened your lips into a thin line and nodded once slowly, and left it at that. 

You still weren’t a fan, but the apology did dampen some of the resentment. Maybe he wasn’t the worst person alive. You’d settle for saying top ten most annoying, instead.

Minutes later, you came to the startling realization that he was still on the path, just two paces behind you. You flinched when you saw him out of the corner of your eye, not expecting him to still be here. 

“Uhm. Where are you… why are you still following me?” 

“I’m not. My car’s that way,” he gestured to the parking lot at the end of the long walkway. “I forgot my loaf for the ducks.” He didn’t mean to offer that information up, it just slipped out. He could practically see your smug expression coming before it even got there.

“You’re not supposed to feed bread to the ducks. It’s bad for them.”

“I don’t.” He didn’t care to explain this to you, but he couldn’t have you thinking he was any less competent than he really was. “It’s a special bread made from water and seeds that were ground into flour. It’s duck-safe.” 

“They make duck-safe bread?” Now that was something you’d never heard before. 

“No… I make duck-safe bread,” he said softly under his breath. 

You didn’t know how else you were supposed to react to that besides laughing wildly. 

“You make it?” He nodded like you were the crazy one here. As if he wasn’t the one spending his spare time grinding up seeds and baking loaves of bread for ducks, donning a frilly pink apron and oven mitts as he did so. At least that’s how you imagined it. “Why not just feed them the seeds?”

“Because, loose seeds will sink in the water and can potentially clog waterbeds and cause foreign bacteria growth in the pond.” 

“So you… hand-make the seeds into a little loaf of bread so it doesn't do that?”

He confirmed. You pondered silently for a moment, then absolutely had to ask, “You ever eaten the duck bread before?”

Spencer was caught off guard by that question. His cheeks deepened to a rosy color.

“Yeah, well, it was the house so…” he laughed nervously and stared at his sneakers. “It’s actually not too bad.”

You weren’t entirely surprised by that. You remembered what his grocery basket looked like, and given those same options, you probably would’ve tried the duck bread too. Still, you cracked the smallest of grins at knowing he makes bread for ducks. The one, sole redeeming fact you’ve learned about Spencer. 

You reached your car first, and Spencer stopped in front of it with you. 

“I’m actually sorry, you know,” he whispered once more, hand resting at the top of your car door as you opened it. He wasn’t talking about the incident at the bookstore.

“Yeah…” For a while you were so busy being angry at Spencer that you forgot about your own problems. 

He noticed your nose was still red around the edges, eyes still a little bleary. “Are you okay, by the way?” His voice was too soft, too genuine.

You shook your head no.

“Is there anything I can do?” You shook your head again. And then you had an awful thought.

You knew he was just offering to help just to say it, because that’s how people react when you say you’re not okay even if they don’t care. But there actually was something he could do for you… Something that Penelope could do.

“Uh, no but…” you fixed your hair and tucked it behind your ear, seamlessly switching to a flirtier voice. “If you still feel bad about the other day, you’re welcome to make it up to me.”

Spencer cocked his head to the side, unsure of how he could do that. 

“Hang out with me sometime.”

“H-hang out?” You could tell that it flustered him, even if he tried to play it off. He swallowed thickly, nose twitching and brows scrunched together.

“Relax, I really do just mean hang out.” You were lying through your teeth. He didn’t need to know that. 

As if he didn’t want to think about it for a second longer and just get out of this conversation as quickly as possible, he agreed without thinking it through. He didn’t even ask why an almost complete stranger would want to hang out with him. 

You stuck your hand out, expecting him to hand over his cell so you could put your contact into it. He rocked on the balls of his feet, watching as you input your contact and sent yourself a text on his phone.

“Hi, this is…” you read out your message as you typed, pausing at just the right place. “What’s your name by the way?”

“Oh-uh, I’m Spencer.” 

A devilish grin took over your face, hidden from his view while you were looking down at the screen. He was going to be easy to fool.

-

-

agh! im still not in love with how this chapter is turning out, but it came to a point where i just had to stop fiddling with it and just post it. any feedback or comments about this story is very much appreciated 💕

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[robininthelabyrinth]

LXC is the legal guardian and adopter for LSZ or LJY, and NMJ has questions.

part 2 of the LJY-adopted-by-LQR fic (now also on ao3)

-

“So, did I knock you up before I went to war or something?” Nie Mingjue asked. “Because I feel like you should’ve mentioned it if that was the case. Possibly in a letter.”

Lan Xichen was so tired that it took him a solid minute to parse what was wrong with that sentence and how to respond, and it was not by following his first instinct to apologize that he should’ve written better letters.

“Stop making fun of me,” he said instead, groping towards some measure of dignity.

Sadly, dignity was in very short supply when you were taking care of babies. Multiple babies. Well, one baby and one toddler, which was somehow worse?

Lan Xichen was pretty sure they’d figured out how to time their crying off each other.

“I would never,” Nie Mingjue said, like a liar, and then he picked up little Jingyi and – Lan Xichen simply cannot find another way to put it – shook him, in a manner not unlike testing a melon for freshness.

For some reason, this made Lan Jingyi stop crying and start making snuffling little giggles instead.

“How did you do that?” Lan Xichen asked, eyes wide.

“Do what?” Nie Mingjue tucked the baby into the crook of his arm and scooped up some food off the table, offering it to him, and Lan Jingy actually ate it. “Xichen, are you feeling all right?”

“Shhh!” Lan Xichen hissed, eyes fixed on the baby, which was neither spitting up everything nor wailing as if his heart was broken. “No unnecessary noise during meals.”

Nie Mingjue snorted in amusement. “Sure,” he said amiably, in the tone Lan Xichen had long ago learned meant ‘nice rules you’ve got there, it’d be an awful shame if someone found a loophole in them’. “This isn’t a meal, though; it’s just a snack.”

Lan Xichen eyed the still-not-crying Lan Jingyi and decided that now was not the time for a spirited debate on the virtues of discipline and fulfilling the merits rather than the word of a rule.

“Where’s monster number one gone?” Nie Mingjue asked abruptly. “He must be very good at hiding, because I looked away for a blink of an eye and he was gone.”

Lan Xichen’s eyes slowly dropped down to where a cloth-covered lump was not-so-sneakily edging towards Nie Mingjue’s foot.

Nie Mingjue was one of the foremost front line fighters of their generation, and possibly the previous one as well. His physical ability was matched only by his incredibly keen senses.

There was no way he was not aware of the lump.

“It’s a real shame, too,” Nie Mingjue continued. “I was planning on doing a test of how far you can throw children, but I think monster two here’s a bit too small to make the test worthwhile. But I guess it just wasn’t meant to be –”

You can’t throw children, Lan Xichen was about to say, except Lan Sizhui was tearing off the tablecloth and jumping up in excitement, shouting, “Here! Here! I’m here! I’m big enough! You can throw me!”

“Why does he want to be thrown,” Lan Xichen murmured, bewildered. He’d never wanted to be thrown around as a child. Had he?

In fairness, he wasn’t sure. No one had ever offered.

Apparently, though, Lan Sizhui did very much want to be thrown around, and Lan Jingyi even condescended to allow Lan Xichen to hold him while he watched.

“Higher! Higher!” Lan Sizhui shouted.

“Really? Is this high enough?” Nie Mingjue held him up at eye level.

“Higher!”

“Like this?” Above his head.

“Higher!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

“All right. How about –” Baxia slithered out from her place by the door, zipping over until she was right in front of Nie Mingjue, allowing him to step onto her like a stair, and then zipping upwards to about hip-height, lifting Nie Mingjue and Lan Sizhui with her. They very nearly hit a tree branch with their heads. “– this?”

Lan Sizhui shrieked with laughter.  

“It’s too early to introduce them to flying,” Lan Xichen objected, because it was. “Mingjue-xiong…”

Nie Mingjue hopped down with a laugh. “All right, one last toss,” he told Lan Sizhui. “Then you nap. Okay?”

“Okay!” Lan Sizhui, who had never once willingly succumbed to naptime in the entirety of the time that Lan Xichen had known him, promised earnestly.

Back into the pile of soft grass he went, giggling the entire time, and amazingly enough he really did fall asleep afterwards. Lan Jingyi, too, had fallen asleep at some point.

“I’ve decided that your brother needs more experience running a sect,” Lan Xichen told Nie Mingjue, who raised his eyebrows. “Starting immediately. I promise to allow you to leave when Jingyi is, oh, shall we say five years old..?”

You could reason with a five year old. 

Nie Mingjue laughed.

It was a type of laugh that suggested that he thought Lan Xichen was making a joke. This was incorrect.

“You’d be amazed at how serious I am,” Lan Xichen told him threateningly, “I’m sect leader here, this is my territory, I can have you arrested any time –” but by that point Nie Mingjue was already bundling him off to bed, too, combing out his hair and plying him with snacks and –

This was not helping his argument that Lan Xichen should be allowing him to leave rather than keep him trapped in the Cloud Recesses as a babysitter-slash-love-slave. 

Well, he wouldn’t really do that, of course. He’d let him go. Eventually.

It’d probably be good for Nie Mingjue’s stress levels, honestly.

“Seriously, though, how did you do that?” he asked, his head on Nie Mingjue’s lap. “They didn’t cry once.”

“I’m good with kids,” Nie Mingjue said, his fingers digging into Lan Xichen’s scalp in just the right way. “Now can you explain to me how exactly you ended up with them? Two, no less?”

Lan Xichen groaned and covered his eyes with a hand. “Sizhui’s Wangji’s,” he explained. “Not biologically, but he’s put his name down in the family register under his own. But, you know…”

“I know.”

Lan Xichen appreciated that he didn’t need to go into it. The doctors had estimated that Lan Wangji would regain full mobility within three years, so that was the period the elders had mandated for his so-called ‘seclusion’, but with Lan Wangji being locked away like that – even with visitors, even though he was trying his hardest to care for the child from where he was – meant that someone had to care for the child’s day-to-day life until his brother was ready to resume the role.

“Jingyi is a cousin, I think,” he continued. “His parents are dead, and uncle accepted guardianship for him…I think he’s going to adopt him, actually.”

“Then why is he with you?”

“I volunteered.”

“Xichen, I say this with a full heart of affection and tremendous respect for your capabilities,” Nie Mingjue said. “But why in the world would you go and do a stupid thing like that?”

Lan Xichen sighed. The worst part was, he couldn’t even argue that it wasn’t stupid – he was, quite obviously, terrible with children.

“Uncle’s still injured from the war,” he admitted. In fact, his injury was probably even older than the war, dating as far back as the burning of the Cloud Recesses – his uncle had never been much of a fighter, his impressive cultivation strength stemming almost entirely from gentler arts like music and learning and meditation, but when his home and his family and his students were at risk, he’d fought, while Lan Xichen ran. Not just fought; he’d kept fighting long past the point that his body allowed. It only made sense for the bill to need to be paid. “He had a recurrence of an old complaint, not long ago; he started coughing up blood. The doctors insisted that he try to avoid anything that might cause him  stress.”

“Stress. Like, say, a rowdy infant?”

“Exactly like a rowdy infant,” Lan Xichen agreed, glad that Nie Mingjue did not mention that what had happened with Lan Wangji was also likely a source of stress. At least the two of them had slowly started to repair their relationship recently – the heartbreak would kill their uncle sooner than anything else, and Lan Xichen might be weak, but he really couldn’t tolerate the idea of suffering any more loss.

And also, if Lan Wangji could see his way to forgiving their uncle, he might one day agree to forgive Lan Xichen, too.

“I see. So you ended up with the little one, too.”

“Yes. And they hate me.” Nie Mingjue coughed a little. “No, don’t deny it. They clearly hate me. They always cry and spit and yell -”

“They’re children, Xichen,” Nie Mingjue said. “Traumatized children. They do that.”

Lan Xichen didn’t need to open his eyes to know that Nie Mingjue was frowning in memory of pain long past. Lan Xichen remembered, with painful clarity, how young Nie Huaisang had been when Lao Nie had died, how badly he had taken it.

There’d been a lot of crying and vomiting and yelling there as well.

“You’re good with kids,” Lan Xichen said instead of commenting, trading delicacy for delicacy; he would not touch Nie Mingjue’s still-bleeding wounds just as Nie Mingjue avoided his own. “Very good.”

“Well, I like to think so, anyway.”

They remained in blissful, comfortable silence for a while.

“How would it have even worked?” Lan Xichen finally asked. His eyes were still closed, Nie Mingjue’s fingers running through his hair; he never wanted to move again.

“Hmm?”

“If you knocked me up before you went to war. I mean, they’re not even the same age.”

“Well, one of them’s from the affair, obviously.”

“I’m sorry, am I cheating on you now?” Lan Xichen opened an eye and pinned Nie Mingjue with a fierce look that instructed his lover to reconsider.

“Of course not,” Nie Mingjue said, mock-solemnly. His eyes were dancing. “You were so distraught after receiving incorrect news of my untimely demise that you conducted a ghost marriage with my spirit, and then went and had a child to continue my name.”

“…they’re both surnamed Lan.”

“So what? Are you saying I’m not good enough to marry into your sect, is that it?”

Lan Xichen’s cheeks were hurting from trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of implying such a thing.”

“There you go, then.”

“Can I ask why I felt the need to have a child to continue your name if I had one already?”

“…well, fuck,” Nie Mingjue said. “I’ve got nothing.”

Lan Xichen burst out laughing.

[scriibble-fics]

Magic

Excerpt from a new Jily seventh-year one-shot that has ballooned dramatically, to the surprise of no one. There's more to come!

As January slips by, days pass without a kiss at minimum, although they’re few and far between. On the other hand, they don’t waste a single day without some form of verbal interaction—laughter in between classes, or banter at mealtimes, or bickering at prefect meetings that almost always serves as a precursor to snogging. Increasingly, new activities join these pastimes that have somehow become cherished. Lily grows closer to his friends, and James makes quick inroads with hers, although sometimes her mates look a little too flattered by his attention for her liking. He requests her help in Potions, and they spend long hours together in the dungeons accomplishing more than just snogging, although that comes with the territory as well. In turn, he insists on aiding her in Transfiguration after Sirius offers continued help, and the way Sirius winks at her when James turns his back has her convinced that he’s pleased for reasons beyond escaping the extra work of tutoring her. Truly, Sirius surprises her more and more as the days melt by, because he easily detaches himself from James’ side to allow for the quiet, private conversations that begin to happen organically between them in the common room, and he even distracts her friends so it can happen. None of her friends complain about this new arrangement that secures Sirius’ attention, but Marlene seems perhaps the happiest of all.

She and James have talked before these conversations, of course. They’ve been housemates for years, after all, and he’s never shied away from paying her attention that she typically hasn’t wanted. Yet most of that attention has erred on the side of either endless banter or endless bickering, and the quiet, fireside chats that happen with more and more regularity feel worlds apart from either of those things. Sure, they still laugh and they still argue, although the laughs are quieter, and more smiles than harsh words accompany the arguments. He watches her plait her hair or rub her neck while they talk, his eyes soft as they discuss their respective career aspirations, and trade gossip about fellow students, and whisper secrets about their friends, and recount memories of the past and hopes for the future. He tells her about his brilliant potioneer father and brilliant herbologist mother, and she can almost picture them as he talks, his father’s spectacles and messy hair and his mother’s rigid posture and kind face. In turn, he asks probing questions about her own family, until she reveals bit by bit about her jolly, constantly-teasing dad and loving caretaker of a mum. Eventually, she even tells him about Petunia too, although it comes even more difficultly than any mention of her parents.

“I didn’t even know you had a sister,” he says one particularly chilly night as wind whips past the common room windows. She feels her shoulders shift outside of her control, and he catches the subtle change. He always does. “What?”

She’s trying, just like she’d promised Marlene, and it doesn’t come easily. “I’m sure her friends have said that to her about me.”

He takes that in for a moment. “Maybe,” he says eventually. “She’d be stupid not to claim you, though. Besides—” It sounds like he’s carefully counting each word. “Family isn’t about blood. It’s a choice. I mean, look at Sirius.”

He means it metaphorically, not literally, but they both look towards where Sirius lounges nearby, laughing with his friends and hers. It’s late, and particularly late for a weekday, so Sirius’ laughter sounds especially loud in the near-empty common room. Watching him throw his head back in amusement, it’s nearly impossible not to smile with him, and James does.

She doesn’t. If anything, Sirius’ laughter triggers something even sadder inside her, and for reasons she doesn’t fully understand, not at first. “It’s not fair,” she says quietly, words spoken without thought, and it all clicks together abruptly, like a radio station suddenly in tune. Her throat burns, and she clears it as she looks towards the fire. “Sorry. Sorry, I—” Her explanation falters and then dies in her mouth. There are probably words express it all—the sudden clarity in Sirius’ constant gregarious nature that he uses to win people over like his life depends upon it, her own people-pleasing ways, the ease of their bond that she’s never understood before—but trying to find them hurts too much to even contemplate past a couple of painful seconds.

James reaches for her hand, which has clenched into a fist atop her lap. Somehow, the slow stroke of his fingers eases the tension that has turned her knuckles white. Her hand opens, and his thumb caresses each of her knuckles as color returns. “Save your apologies for the next time you piss me off,” he says, and he turns her hand over in her lap.

She watches as he presses their palms together, his fingers dwarfing hers, and her mouth smiles before she catches herself at it. “It seems like I’ve been pissing you off less lately.”

He returns her smile, his fingers lacing through hers in a brief, warm squeeze. “It’s hard to get mad at you when you’re getting me off all the time.” Something shifts in his voice, something that squeezes her insides.

“Same, but don’t take that as a challenge to piss me off.”

He chuckles softly. “You know me too well. Well, I’m glad we finally figured out how to get you to tolerate me.”

His hand remains locked in hers, his thumb once again slowly brushing over her knuckles. She’s not sure which is more difficult to look at: their hands, fitted so neatly together, or his face, which radiates more warmth than even moments before. “Tolerate,” she repeats, skeptical. That hardly sums up the things he does to her body—and to her mind, and, increasingly, to her heart—on a regular basis. “The same goes for you.”

“Evans.” Her name comes out chidingly, and he waits until she looks at him before he goes on. “I don’t just tolerate you. And I’d—” He takes in a deep breath, eyes flickering back and forth between each of hers. “Your sister is stupid,” he says again, but it sounds entirely different somehow. “Anyone would be lucky to claim you. I told you—you’re magic.”

It’s not the first time he’s declared as much to her since the train, but it’s the first time that it sounds like something other than heated talk spoken against her mouth or skin. For the first time, she catches a glimmer of what he means—or a glimmer of what it means to her, at least, since she has no way of knowing if he feels the same. Something stretches between them, a moment that’s brief but heavy and undeniable, and she wants to look away, but she can’t. She’s suspended in time, held entirely in place on the other side of his gaze.

It’s magic, what holds her there, a magic unlike any she’s ever discovered.

“Thank you.” Her voice comes out soft and a little small. She sounds nothing like herself.

He doesn’t call her on it. He moves closer to her, shifting towards the edge of his armchair until their knees touch, and his other hand joins where he’s still holding hers atop her lap. “I’m rather good at palm reading, you know,” he says, and the magic between them snaps as the fireplace crackles, and so abruptly that she jumps a little. Before she can blink, things settle back into familiar patterns, from the lazy smile on his face to the teasing in his tone to her own immediate banter in return.

“Don’t insult my intelligence. You dropped out of Divination fourth year. I haven’t forgotten.”

“Flattered you remember my movements so closely.” He releases her hand so he can pull it into his own lap, and he traces a fingertip along her palm, drama exuding from every pore. “If you’re too scared to know your future—worried who might be in it, maybe—”

“Go on, then.”

The future—as told by James—holds things she expects and things that she doesn’t.

She expects him to predict a long life. She expects him to predict a continued close relationship with her friends. She expects him to predict a prosperous career in brewing, because she’s confided those dreams in him. He tells her all of those things as he tickles her palm with twisting caresses.

Yet she doesn’t expect his long description of her handsome future husband, a man who will allegedly propose many times before she’ll finally accept. She also doesn’t expect his recounting of all the children she’ll have, enough for an entire Quidditch team.

She’s laughing by the end, and he’s laughing with her. “That’s too many kids,” she says. “I’m not doing that to my body, and I can’t imagine that this wonderful husband of mine—”

“He’s handsome too, don’t forget.”

“Right. I can’t imagine that this wonderful, handsome husband of mine will expect it of me.” She wiggles her fingers. “Look again, will you?”

He obliges with all the seriousness of a seer, and his hair falls in front of his face as he bends in concentration. “Maybe not quite that many, but at least two, maybe three. It’s a lonely existence, being an only child. Your husband, he’ll feel pretty strongly about that.”

Thank god he’s looking at her hand. Thank god he’s looking at her hand and not her face, because—

All banter and faux predictions aside, she’s tempted to start practicing for those babies with him right then and there.

Accidentally or on purpose, she’s falling in love with him, and it’s all his fault.

[timelesslords]

time, mystical time (cutting me open then healing me fine)

Read on AO3

The night the second Giant War ends, Percy and Annabeth sneak out together 

For the first time in what felt like years, Annabeth was able to exhale.

They'd done it. Gaea was gone, the Romans were on their side, various monster armies had been defeated. Sitting on the porch of the Big House with the remaining seven after all was said and done had felt like both one of the most anti-climactic, and heaviest moments of her life. Leo was gone, and she hadn't fully processed that yet, she wondered if she would ever fully process that Leo, so full of life and energy, wasn't there anymore. But compared to the Titan War, casualties had been light.

She still felt on edge, like at any moment the dirt in front of her might rise into Gaea's familiar form, shout "surprise!" and murder them all now that they had their guard down. But the hours passed, night fell, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Which, considering how Annabeth's life had gone the past 7 years, was extraordinary in and of itself.

But it still didn't feel right. It didn't feel done . She could breathe out, but breathing in still felt like a struggle, like there was something caught there.

Maybe that was why, once her siblings seemed mostly asleep, Annabeth slipped on her yankees cap and snuck out the door. She reached Cabin 3 easily, and was not at all surprised to find Percy still awake when she tapped on his window. He opened it, letting out a waft of cool sea breeze into the night air. Annabeth pulled off her cap and Percy grinned at her.

"Thank gods, I was wondering if you were ever going to show up." he said.

"Some of us have roommates." Annabeth replied, but she was also smiling. Percy had a conspiratorial grin on his face, the kind that was contagious, and that would make any self-respecting teacher want to cry.

"Give me a sec," He said, disappearing from the window, and returning with a blanket a few moments later. Then he began to climb out.

"You know the door is like six feet away, right?" Annabeth asked, watching with amusement as he maneuvered his way out of the small window hole. Percy managed to slide out of it, his feet landing on solid ground a little harder than he probably intended.

"Yeah, but where's the fun in that?"

"You're ridiculous." Annabeth said. She had not meant for it to come out quite so fondly, but she didn't have the heart to try and correct herself.

"You love me anyways." Percy said happily, taking her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. It felt so easy, so natural, Annabeth could almost forget the past 8 months had happened. Like they were still two kids who had only been through one war in their lifetime instead of two Which, okay, maybe a pretty pathetic ideal, but it still made her feel good.

They made their way down to the beach, careful to avoid the cleaning harpy's regular paths, though Annabeth doubted they were even on curfew duty tonight. There was still tons of debris lying around from the earlier battle that hadn't been fully squared away yet, despite everyone working around the clock to get it done. Though, with help from the Romans, Annabeth thought they could probably have camp looking back to normal in the next day or two. They were scarily efficient. Either way, the harpies were probably taking the night off.

The beach, thankfully, had remained relatively untouched from the battle. There were a few dunes she wasn't sure had been there before, and what looked like a bit of wreckage from one of the orangers. But they ignored both, opting for their favorite spot just above the tideline, in the middle of the beach. Percy set down the blanket, and they laid down on it together, still holding hands.

They were quiet, but that didn't bother Annabeth. Quiet moments with Percy were stupidly hard to come by, and just being next to him made her feel whole again. Even after the weeks they'd spent together, Annabeth hadn't fully recovered from the time she had spent with him missing. She wondered if she would ever fully recover from that, or if she was doomed to dream of him disappearing right before her eyes for the rest of her life.

And that had always been the fear, hadn't it? That he would leave like everyone else in her life had, before she had him? It was her fault they had taken so long to get together, the way she kept pulling away, expecting him to get tired and go. But he hadn't. He had stubbornly stuck around, even when she was mad at him and being mean to him and hadn't really been all that pleasant to be around.

And of course, there was the other thing. The prophecy that had ruled their lives since they were twelve, that Annabeth had read at too young an age, and that she had applied to him from the minute that trident flashed over his head. He wasn't even supposed to be here.

"What are you thinking about?"

Annabeth glanced over at Percy, who had apparently been looking at her for the past few minutes.

"You've got that scrunched up look on your face." He said. He at least had the decency to sound apologetic.

"My face doesn't get scrunched." Annabeth protested, though even as she said it she became aware of the tenseness in her forehead and between her eyes. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"It does, when you're thinking hard. Don't worry, it's very cute."

"You're biased." Annabeth said, turning herself so she could look at him straight on.

"Maybe so." Percy said, with a soft smile and a half shrug. It was very easy to forget, sometimes, that they were half gods, but Annabeth saw it in Percy just then. Something beyond human in his touch and his eyes. Something divine. She wasn't sure how she had ever thought it would be possible for him to die. Looking at him now, she would swear up and down he was an immortal.

"I was just thinking about last summer. And the one before that. And all the time we wasted." Annabeth admitted.

"In our defence, we were kind of dumb then." Percy said, hitting her with a trademark grin. Annabeth had to smile back, even as she rolled her eyes.

"Speak for yourself, Seaweed Brain."

"Okay, okay. I was an idiot, and you were as brilliant as ever." Percy amended. Annabeth appreciated his undue faith in her, but it wasn't entirely warranted.

"I wasn't brilliant. I was pragmatic, which is just another kind of stupid if you use it wrong." Annabeth sighed.

"What do you mean?"

"Like," Annabeth started, not sure how to explain what she was thinking in a totally not-morbid way, "I guess I was just thinking about the prophecy the whole time. After the labyrinth especially, I just– I don't know. I was so scared of how it would all play out. I kept pushing you away because I thought it would be easier."

"You thought I was going to die." Percy said. He had a look of careful consideration on his face, free from judgement. He didn't let go of her hand.

"Yes." Annabeth said, feeling guilty as she did, "I mean, I should've known better. Prophecies never play out the way you think they will."

"The summer before. We ended things on weird terms." Percy remembered, "Is that because you thought the time was running out?"

Annabeth shuddered inadvertently. If it was up to her, she would never think about that summer again. It had easily been the worst of her life, maybe even now, and she had some really shitty summers to compare it to.

"It was partially that." Annabeth admitted, "Partially Luke. And... it was also sort of my prophecy. When you disappeared those two weeks and we– I thought you had died, I thought... I thought it was my fault. For bringing you on the quest."

Percy was frowning, like he wasn't quite following what she was saying.

"The last line. The one I didn't tell you about until after." Annabeth prompted.

And lose a love worse than death. Annabeth had been well aware of her crush on Percy at that point, but she hadn't fully, truly realized she was in love with him until she had thought he'd died for her prophecy. It was the absolute worst moment to have that clarity. Thankfully she had gotten a do-over of sorts, but it was hard to forget that kind of pain. That probably was why she had avoided him the rest of the summer, more than anything else, because she after she knew that she loved him the thought of losing him again, which had felt desperately inevitable at the time, was absolutely excruciating.

Percy's eyes widened in understanding.

"Oh. Oh. Oh gods, I was an idiot. I didn't even realize how much of an idiot I was for that." he said, "After you kissed me and everything. I just never put it together."

Annabeth couldn't help but laugh a little at the expression on his face.

"It's okay." she said.

"Did I ever apologize for that? I'm really sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. I tortured you enough after the fact."

"You did do that. I deserved it though. Gods." Percy said, rolling onto his back, looking up at the stars.

"Rachel didn't though." Annabeth said. She still felt a little twinge of guilt at how she'd treated Rachel the first few times they'd met. Looking back on it, it really didn't have much to do with Rachel at all; she had mostly been mad at herself, and Percy. Herself for not being brave enough to make a move, Percy for having a crush on a girl who wasn't her, after all they'd been through together. Not exactly fair feelings all around, but at least they'd been equally distributed. And she'd apologized to Rachel afterwards.

"No, probably not." Percy agreed.

"I was just mad, I guess. Luke was gone for good. Thalia had left, and I knew she had to, but it still hurt. And I thought I was going to lose you to her and then you were going to die, again, sort of, and it was all just kind of unbearable."

"I'm sorry. That you had to do that alone." Percy said, squeezing her hand, "I wish I had been better about it. I just didn't really know what to do."

"It's not your fault." Annabeth said. Then, after a moment of contemplation

"Though you could have at least acknowledged the kiss."

Percy groaned, covering his face with his free hand.

"I was so dumb. I still didn't know if you liked me after that. I thought you just wanted to forget about it."

"Well, after you didn't mention it, maybe." Annabeth said, a little teasingly. It was nice to just be able to sit here and talk about things. The past few months had been pretty hellish, but one thing they had done was put things in perspective. It was easy to laugh at their awkward 15-year-old selves' interactions now, while it might've still been uncomfortable a few months ago.

Of course, if Percy hadn't disappeared out of nowhere, they probably would've reached this point in their relationship organically, without all the trauma on the side. But if she thought about that for too long she would just get angry, and she didn't want to ruin the moment. It was a nice moment. The type of moment she wanted to have with him over and over again, until they both died of old age. For the first time that actually felt like an achievable goal.

"Can I get a do-over?" Percy asked, his trouble-maker smile back on his face. Annabeth grinned back.

"You can have as many do-overs as you want."

He leaned over and kissed her, soft and sweet, and frankly much better than the hurried, frantic one in the volcano had been.

"Annabeth Chase," he said as he pulled away, "I am acknowledging that that was an amazing kiss. I hope to have many more amazing kisses with you, for the rest of our lives."

Annabeth laughed and kissed him again, because she had the time, and they finally had the world to themselves again, and now that he had kissed her again, any time not spent kissing him felt like a waste.

"You're very good at that. Have I ever told you you're very good at that?" Percy said, when they finally broke apart again.

"Well, I had lots of practice before you." Annabeth said, unable to stop the sly smile from spreading across her lips.

"Like who?" Percy asked, indignantly. He was joking, but she could tell there was a note of genuine surprise there.

"Oh, lets see." Annabeth said, rolling back onto her back, fingers still laced through Percy's, "There was Zach, from elementary school. He wasn't very good, but practice is practice. And then Jake from that boarding school–"

"You kissed guys at your boarding school?"

"Oh sure. I was sad and you weren't around, I had to make do. I made out with Connor once, that was an experience."

"Our Connor? Connor Stoll?" Percy asked, unable to mask his surprise. Annabeth bit down a giggle.

"Yeah, on a dare. He wasn't so bad, really, but he could have used a little less ton–"

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Percy said hurriedly, and Annabeth finally let herself laugh.  

"Don't worry, you're better than all of them put together." Annabeth said, reaching around her own head and patting his with her spare hand.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that?" Percy asked.

"Mm. Might have to double check." Annabeth said, keeping her voice as serious as she could possibly make it.

"Oh yeah?" Percy said, and it was a dare to him now, which meant that teasing him so much had either been a bad idea, or a really really good one.

"Yeah." Annabeth said, and in a strange way she felt freer than she had before. Like a huge weight had been lifted off her chest.

Annabeth breathed in the salty sea air, revelling in the inhale. She might've started to cry if he hadn't kissed her then, but it was just as well. They had plenty of time.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Kissing the Pain Away

I absolutely blame @hournites for putting me in angst mode when I had been so fluffy not even 24 hours ago. 😒

He expected her tears after the way he almost died on the mission tonight. He knew that as soon as they were out of sight of the others she would break down. She didn't like to do it in front of the others. She had confessed to him that it made her feel "even more weak." Then and there he tried to assure that she was not weak and that nobody thought that she was weak, but every time something like this happened the thoughts came flooding back over her.

He had a remedy for it now at least. He would kiss her until she forgot about her insecurities. He kissed her everywhere that his lips landed, and no particular order and no particular speed. Whatever the mood called for was how he kissed her. They called it "kissing the pain away," and from the level of upset he saw within her tonight she would need more than ever before.

Rick had barely traced a trail of kisses from her temple to her neck before she inched away and sobbed, "No. You can't kiss this pain away, Rick!" She curled up into a ball, muffled as she added, "After what happened tonight, I don't deserve it."

"Beth.."

"You could have DIED because of me. You were so close! All because I'm weak and I still go out there."

"You're not weak, Beth. You're gentle. There's a difference."

"The difference isn't significant enough not to almost get you killed!"

He was sad, but she needed his strength. He reaches for her, trying to pull her into his arms, but she resisted and he sighed. "Okay. I don't have consent to kiss the pain away, or to hold you. I won't force it, even though I desperately wanna do both. But, Beth, one thing I'm not gonna do is just sit here idle while you beat yourself up. You don't deserve that and I won't stand for it."

She sat up and looked at him, quivering with sobs that broke his heart. "After everything, you're still protecting me, even right now. Against myself."

He shrugged, "Somebody has to…"

"That's the problem, right there! Each of you are so good at defending yourselves, but when I'm there, I'm a liability. To all of you.. To you, Rick. You could have died tonight. Not an exaggeration. You were a couple of millimeters from certain death! I can't keep going out there with this burden that you might choose to die for me."

Rick adjusted his legs to rest on either side of her, but kept his hands to himself, thumbs working in overdrive as he tried to word this in a way that would send her into a tailspin, "That's not up to you, Beth. We have a risk of dying every mission, every one of us, and we do the job mainly to protect other people who would never stand beside us in a fight. We've risked our lives for Blue Valley. Half the people in this town hate me and the ones that don't are complete strangers, and you're okay with me possibly dying for them, but not you? I'm sorry. But, as long as I'm alive, I'm gonna protect you always. Whether we're in the field, are in this bed, sorting through your emotions. I volunteer for it. It's part of my meaning in life. If I did have to die for you, Beth - I would just do it and that would be okay with me…"

"It wouldn't be okay with me!" She squealed, grabbing him by the shirt, then collapsing to cry on his chest. "That wouldn't be okay, Rick."

"I misspoke. I only meant that I wouldn't hesitate. I would never want to do that to you, of course not. But, I would die before I let you get hurt, if I can help it."

"Please promise me that you won't do that. You can't do that. It's not fair."

He sighed, holding her close to his heart, "I wish I could make that promise, Beth, but I know how you are about broken promises. What if I just can't keep it. The last thing that I would be thinking as I died would be about how much I'm breaking your heart by breaking that promise… and not having the chance to ever mend it." She wailed into his chest. This was rare, such a hard cry, but she had seen through her goggles with so much more clarity just how close to death Rick came tonight and she had been rattled since. "I'll promise you this.." she reigned in her cries, but didn't stop crying, to look into his eyes for whatever promise that he would make.

"I promise that I'll do my best, but if there is a situation where it's your life on the line or mine… That's not even a choice. If it ever happens. If there's no way that I can save you and also live… I promise, that will be my burden. It wouldn't be your fault. It wouldn't be because you're weak or because you did anything wrong. It will be because I love you, and as much as I would hate to leave you, my heart can't survive watching you die. Not with my… my history…"

Beth nodded her head. She knew that was the best that he could do and though she didn't think she was any more capable of watching him die - hell, just watching him come close to it tonight had shaken her to her core! She could barely breathe. She was certain she went into shock until she felt the water of the shower and it awakened her anguish.

But, she had not gone through the kind of loss Rick had. He'd seen his parents die, via Chuck. He'd mourned them more than half of his life. He had been terrified to even fall in love, for the fear that he might lose her to "the good sense to leave" him. There was no way that he could see her die and it was unfair to expect him to do nothing if she was in trouble. "I would love you, even with my last breath," he said quietly.

Images of him dying in her arms, apologizing and asking her to be okay made her eyes well up with tears again. "I changed my mind," she said. "Kiss the pain away. I can't take these thoughts. Just, kiss.. please…" But Rick was on top of this job. He had been wanting to, anyway. He knew that it wouldn't make her forget what she was experiencing. If he had almost seen her die, he didn't know if he'd be nearly as composed as she was. But, he wanted to overflow her emotional cup with good things.

They were alive. They were together. They were safe, for now. Every moment was precious, because every mission was dangerous, and kissing her was one of his own coping mechanisms. He didn't want to die, either. He was frightened, just by how much seeing the possibility of him doing so was hurting Beth. Tears began to fall from his own eyes too and when she felt them on her skin, she cupped his face and searched his eyes. She saw pain that reflected her own and felt so guilty… so guilty that she hadn't noticed it earlier.

Of course he was just as upset as her. Rick was extremely sensitive. "I need you to understand… that… I wouldn't throw away my life with you lightly. I want to live with you, to be with you, always. But, we chose to be heroes…"

She kissed his eyelids, letting him shut his eyes and cry things out against her bosom, then it was her turn to comfort him, to kiss his pain away.

[captain-emmajones]

in the palm of your freezing hand

Here is my contribution for Neverland New Year. Bigs thanks to @neverlandnewyear for organizing this and to @carpedzem for reading this over for me <3

I apologize for any grammar/spelling mistakes. They are all mine! 

Summary: 

Post 3x09: On their way back from Neverland to Storybrooke, Emma is alone on deck of the Jolly Roger while everyone is asleep...or is she really alone? 

Hurt/Comfort -- 1,6k words -- Ao3

The ladder creaks under Emma’s footsteps as she climbs out of Hook’s quarters where Henry lies peacefully asleep. 

The ocean breeze greets her outside; it tangles and dusts salt crystals into her hair. Goosebumps run across the exposed skin of her neck as the wood of the Jolly Roger exhales sighs of content, lulled by the waves. 

Emma breathes in -- 

After Neverland, and the lost boys, and saving Henry, everything is so distinctively quiet on deck. It has been deserted; there is not a human soul to be spotted. 

-- and exhales a sigh of relief, looking up with leaden eyelids towards the starry sky. 

Lazy, white clouds twirl around the moon; they seem to be competing for her attention as she bathes the ship in a cold, silver light.  

Another gust of wind swirls around Emma; she folds her arms around her body to smother a shiver and paces forward. 

It is her first moment of peace, all by herself, in forever. 

She licks her lips, tastes salt on the tip of her tongue, as she walks towards the ship’s bow. And repeats cautiously to herself: Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe. 

Everyone’s settled down in the crew’s cabin, with the hammocks and the bunk beds, but Emma knows she will not get any sleep tonight. 

She still feels on the edge of a precipice, can still feel the void calling to her and the restless shaking of her legs.  

The bitter taste, at the back of her throat, will not be swallowed down and this foreboding knot in her stomach will not stop whispering, murmuring, that something terrible has yet to happen. 

Henry is safe. We are going home. Henry is safe. We are -- 

Emma wraps her arms around herself in a tighter embrace to gather a surplus of heat. Angry shivers run down her spine, but she needs the fresh air, she needs the distraction in order to remain afloat and -- 

“Are you alright there, Swan?” 

She startles, heart racing, and spins around to face Hook emerging from the shadow, his coat swinging around him. Fuck. Shafts of moonlight sweep over him and slowly illuminate his features, touch by touch, until Emma can make out his eyebrows furrowed in a line of concern above eyes that have no business being this blue.

Her gaze lowers, flutters along pink lips and lands onto the pile of blankets folded against his chest. This sight brings her back to a few hours ago, when Hook safely tucked the blue bed cover of his single bed beneath Henry’s chin before standing up with a quiet smile and letting Emma and Regina flood in his room. 

“I just distributed those, but you weren’t anywhere to be found below,” he continues, stepping towards her. 

Emma blames his sharp and knowing gaze for her pounding heart and her anxious step backward. She thinks hurt flashes in his eyes, but it is only a momentary flicker and it soon dies into a gentle smile. 

And Emma’s figured out in Neverland that there isn’t much she can do, against that smile, and this earnest look on his face.  

“I’m okay,” she finally exhales, but it isn’t enough to dissipate the uneasiness she sees in his eyes. 

A playful gale interrupts her, preventing her from adding anything else, and she shuts her eyes under the cold surprise, muscles stiffening. 

Before she knows it, something soft embraces her and Emma lifts her eyelids to see Hook in front of her, securing a blanket around her shoulders.  

“There,” he whispers, even as his fingers skim lightly over the skin of her neck and then stop, “That’s much better, isn’t it, Swan?” 

Emma swallows down. Her hands fasten over the blanket, trembling fingers brushing against Hook’s. Her eyelashes flutter and a wobbling smile flickers across her face as his musky scent fills in her lungs. 

“Thanks.” A tender smile curls up the corners of his mouth and Emma’s heart lurches an unfair amount. 

Yeah...Fighting against that side of Hook is definitely harder than it looks like. 

Before she can catch herself gazing longer into his eyes, she whirls around to face the green waves that cradle and crash against the Jolly Roger. Although she cannot see him, Emma feels Hook’s hovering presence settling beside her. 

They stand there in a comfortable silence, shoulders almost touching, and Emma thinks it has been weird to see the pirate persona fade away, yielding to the Captain beneath it -- a Captain who has made sure everyone was safe and sound on his ship.  

She saw him proceed calmly, organized as he ordered everyone around and Emma thinks she caught a glimpse of the pirate Captain who, for three hundred years, was the only leader aboard this ship.

Emma also thinks it is odd how easily he gave up on his leadership, in Neverland, but then she stops thinking about it because those are dangerous territories to explore. 

Something bubbles up in the sea, beneath them. Emma squints. It must be a fish. 

“Did you eat anything?” He suddenly asks, shattering the silence. 

She shakes her head, blanket twirling along with her, and aims for a detached tone when she mumbles: “Nope. Wasn’t hungry.” 

And lowers her gaze for proper emphasis.

He sighs next to her. “You need to eat, Swan. And sleep. Savior or not, you are still human.” 

She scowls. “I’m not seeing you doing a lot of sleeping either.” 

A small laugh escapes him and Emma instinctively tilts her face to stare at him, biting her lower lip to smother a smile and clutching hard her blanket. 

It must be her lack of sleep, or just the euphoria of finally leaving Neverland, but Emma feels slightly drunk. Now that she thinks about it, her eyelids burn. 

“Point taken, Swan. However, this ship still needs a Captain. And once we’ll be in Storybrooke, I’ll have the rest of eternity at least to rest with the lots of you out of my ship.” 

He isn’t looking at her, and Emma has all the leisure to see the too big, too bright grin on his face fade into a frown and this unfamiliar and disconcerting look settle on his features. 

Emma’s stomach twists. 

“Oh yeah, don’t worry,” she hears herself say, “You’ll soon have this ship all to yourself.” 

Silence falls, dull and heavy. Even the sea seems to hold back her waves beneath her bosom, scared to shatter it. 

Emma gulps down. She does not know where to look. Gazing at him somehow feels too intimate. Something is clenching at her throat. She drops her gaze, stares at the blanket around her shoulders and then -- 

“Aye.” 

-- and then, looks back at him. Always back at him. (That will become a pattern, but Emma does not know that yet.)

Fuck. His head is lowered, stubborn wisp of hair hanging in front of his eyes; he seems to be examining the rings around his fingers, and Emma wishes he would look at her instead -- but he doesn’t. He remains frozen. 

A wave of heat overwhelms her and her free hand abruptly grips the wooden rail next to his. Although she winces at the cold, the desired effect occurs; he looks up, surprised, and delves into her eyes. 

Emma’s heart might sink to her feet but she goes on: “What are you going to do once we reach Storybrooke anyway? You know I won’t let you pillage and plunder this town, right?” 

The joke falls flat with the implications of her words and she sees his eyes go back and forth between hers, trying to read her. 

Panic sweeps over her. She just assumed, she just assumed that he would stay in Storybrooke, with them, as if, as if he belongs there or something -- 

Thankfully for Emma, Hook’s answer comes quickly and is delivered in a gentle, soothing tone that sends a loop in her stomach.  

“I’m not after these kinds of tresors anymore, Swan.” 

Emma nods, although her heart is now beating inside her mouth and her legs have turned to stone. 

“I’m happy to hear that. I wouldn’t want to have to chase you around Storybrooke.” 

Another laughter. Even the moon looks as though she is scrunching her nose and smiling upon them. 

“I beg to differ.” 

In a moment of clarity, Emma does think she should go and try to get some sleep, before her fingers end up doing something terrible, like grabbing the lapel of his coat. 

Eventually, there is just enough willpower left in Emma to allow her to slowly retreat. She blinks, inhales, gathers strength. Sleep. She needs sleep. 

“I’m sure you do,” she exhales and takes a step backward. 

As she passes him by, her right hand instinctively brushes across his arm; Emma sees Hook’s eyes widen at their contact, but he does not make any comment. 

A smile, she smiles -- 

“‘Night Hook.” 

-- and allows herself to look up and gaze into his eyes. There is something exhilarating, about staring into his eyes. Emma does not know why.  

Without looking down, she is able to predict the spontaneous jolt of his fingers towards her, fingers that rise and reach for her, and then stop, as if asking for permission and Emma meets him halfway. 

“Goodnight, Swan,” he answers back, as his hand curls around her knuckles, how can his skin be this warm?, and there is that stupid grin on Emma’s face again. 

She nods as Hook’s warm touch sends electric trails circulating all through her body. She is definitely too exhausted to care. 

Instead she keeps on smiling, fingers lingering in the comfort of his palm… 

...And then slowly backs away into the night -- a small, serene cloud floating along with her. 

[girlmeetsliv3]

Lilies of the Valley V

A/B/O!BTS x Reader

Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.

      "White is usually associated with purity and heaven. Fresh and crisp, white lilies also represent purity and modesty"

Release Date: 06/01/20 @ 8:40 pm

previous ~ next

           YN felt she was floating, her mind was floating, in and out of consciousness as she fought to gain control over herself but couldn't. She parted her lips to speak, only wails and moans came out instead of words. YN tried again - harder this time - but the same thing happened. She called out for someone, anyone, to hear her but her voice was beginning to fail her. Her body was shaking. No, not her body. Her bones were shaking. YN felt cold, incredibly cold, she tried to cover herself with the comforter but that only made her more uncomfortable. She thrashed and turned trying to get the blanket off, but it wouldn't budge. That only made her cry more. Eventually, she was so exhausted, she fell asleep.

           “Shh. It’s okay. We’re here.”

"Help me lift her, so we can change the sheets."

           “She needs a bath too.”

           No! No bath. Don’t move me. YN tried to talk to them, whoever they were, but they wouldn't listen. Her ramblings were incoherent at best, but in her mind, they made perfect sense. YN cried and complained, she was in pain, everything hurt and they were only making it worse. "Shh. Don't worry it'll be over soon." Something brushed against her cheek and for the briefest of moments, she felt calm but then the pain and discomfort only worsened. The fever was wrecking through her body and there was little anyone could do to stop it. "Hurry up!" It was too loud, it hurt her ears. When she felt the cool of the bathwater, she lost consciousness again.

           There was a crash, a loud one, and a cacophony of yells. Someone was getting closer to her, she could feel it but as much as she wanted to open her eyes they wouldn’t. Her nose was beginning to itch, their scent was too strong. It hurt. YN moaned again and tried to move away, but whoever it was had her locked in their grip. That only made things worse. Cramps began to pass all over her body causing the omega to spasm uncontrollably. They didn’t notice, too busy trying to pry the alpha off her to notice the pain she was in. Only once they had him under control did they notice the fever had returned and she was in a worse state than before.

           “Get him out of here!”

           “All of you leave! Now!”

           The warmth was gone and the room was cool again. Something cold yet soft was trailed throughout her whole body. “Don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll make it better.”

          When YN awoke it was to the sweet scent of raspberries and sugar. She leaned into the scent, wanting to drink more and more of it in. Only when she heard soft giggles and a sigh, did YN finally pry her eyes open. It stung at first all the clarity in the room, but after a couple of seconds, she became adjusted to it. YN felt depleted in every sense of the word but didn't yet know why. Her body ached, the way it might after a strenuous workout and her mind felt numb. It was when her outstretched arms touched skin that YN turned to the side, surprised to see Rosé of all people in her room.

           “Ro!” YN jumped up and embraced her friend. Having felt like it’d been years since they had last seen each other.

           Rosé hugged her back, but her grip wasn’t as tight and her eyes were filled with concern. “I’m so glad you’re okay YN. You had everyone so worried.”

           YN was taken aback, “What do you mean?” YN pulled away and looked into Rosé’s face trying to decipher what she meant.

           Rosé herself looked only more puzzled by YN’s words. “YN,” she spoke carefully as if explaining to a child, “You were in heat.”

           “That’s ridiculous my heat isn’t for a couple more days. I’ve been taking the suppressants.”

"YN, you were in heat. It's been almost a week and it was only this morning that you broke the fever." That didn't make any sense. How had it been a week? The last thing YN knew had been taking her suppressants and heading to bed. Had they not worked? But they'd worked fine for years. Even if it was a faulty batch, her heat wasn't supposed to occur so suddenly. YN didn't know what to say.

           “I’ve never heard of heats lasting that long or being that intense. They're only supposed to last a day or two max. Is that normal for you?” Rosé was wracking her head trying to find an explanation all the while YN sat silent. If I had my heat then that means… “And your mates were so worried. They kept asking me if this was a normal thing, but I didn’t know how to answer. Everyone was so scared YN.” That caught her attention, YN vaguely recalled people around her but she assumed that was a dream. “Did you take care of me, Ro?” The girl shook her head, “I was only allowed to see you today once they were sure your heat was over.”

           “What? Why?!” YN’s anxiety was beginning to rise.

           "It's normal. Mates get protective during heats, plus it wouldn't have been safe for another omega to be around. Could've triggered my heat and then we'd be screwed." This had quelled her fears, if only momentarily, casting a glance around the room YN noticed it was a wreck. Her bathroom door was thrown open and YN could see wet spots on the carpet and floor. Not to mention the basket was overbrimming with dirty clothes and sheets. Her memory of the events was fuzzy, it felt like she had just woken up from a long sleep. "Why are the doors gone?"

           Rosé whipped her head to see where YN was staring, then she smiled apologetically. "Um, apparently you triggered your alphas ruts. They're locked away in the mansion riding it out." So it had been the others who had taken care of her, which put her more at ease. "Where are they?" YN couldn't see anyone standing outside and her nose felt plugged, not allowing her to sense them. "They said they were going to get cleaned up. I'm sure they'll be back soon. They can't stand to be away from you for too long." YN was thankful that there were betas in the group. Though she couldn't see a pack of all alpha's getting along.

           “I’m sorry Ro. Sorry for scaring you.”

           "You don't have to apologize to me. I know how it is. I would talk to them about it though so that all of you can be prepared next time." Right, next time.

           “Don’t worry. This won’t happen again. I probably just got a bad batch.” YN was certain this wouldn’t happen again. She wouldn’t allow it to.

           "Yeah, but haven't you had them for a while. It's strange to get a reaction now. How'd your last heat go?" YN didn't know how to answer that question. Well, she did, but she knew the second Rosé found out the truth it would all be over. "What do you mean?" YN feigned innocence. Rosé tilted her head in confusion, "You know...how long was your last heat? I'm certain it wasn't this long. I don't remember you taking time off." Fuck. The longer she stayed quiet the more concerned Rosé became. “If this keeps happening you have to go see a doctor. It isn’t normal and can be a sign that something is up.”

           YN waved her off, “I’m sure everything is fine. My last heat only lasted three days.”

           “Okay, but when was your last heat?” Rosé had finally landed on the jackpot question. YN’s reluctance to answer only caused her friend to press her more. “I mean I don’t recall you ever getting like this.”

           YN sighed, running a hand through her hair only to find it was greasy and long overdue for a wash. “I haven’t had a heat since I presented Rose.” Her friend remained frozen in shock until YN’s words finally dawned on her. “Are you insane?! Why haven’t you said anything?! That isn’t normal YN! Something is obviously very wrong.”

           “I know it isn’t normal Rosé, but nothing is wrong. I’ve just been using the suppressants.”

           “But they aren’t meant to be used like that. They’re only supposed to control side effects, not fully take away your heat. No wonder you were in heat for so long. Do you realize how reckless you’ve been?! You could’ve died!”

YN rolled her eyes, "You're being ridiculous Ro. I wouldn't have died." Rosé had always been an overthinker and someone of frail health so it made sense to YN that she would react like this. This is partly the reason YN had refrained from telling her friend, the other reason is it was illegal.

           “Your mates told me you reached 41 degrees.” Oh. "Your body shut down and went into survival mode. They were afraid to take you to the hospital because they knew it might worsen your heat." YN had heard of intense heats causing fevers and cramps, but never to that extent. Perhaps, she had gone a bit overboard with the suppressants and her body needed a release.

"I'm sorry Ro. I really am. You're right I was being stupid, but I was scared. I didn't know how to deal with heats and the first time I experienced one I -" She had been about to tell Rosé everything. Confess the truth, but that would only shatter Rosé's perception of YN. Rosé would accuse her of lying and want to end their friendship, she couldn't risk her reputation by being associated with someone like YN. "- I was scared. That's why I did it."  

           “Oh YN.” Rosé pulled her into a tight hug and YN almost wept at the thought of losing her best friend. The person she truly had left. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Just promise you won’t do it again.” YN nodded, burying her head into Rosé’s neck unsure of whether she was being honest or not. She hoped she was.

           “I’m happy to see you’re feeling better.” True to Rosé’s words the men had returned in ten minutes exactly. Yoongi, Jimin, and Taehyung looked clean and brand new but YN noticed the weary expressions on their faces and the bags under their eyes. Yoongi smiled and went to sit on her bed, the others entered slowly too. Their movements seemed calculated as if they were careful not to scare her.

           “I am, thank you. I’m sorry about the trouble I’ve caused.” She did feel bad and can’t imagine what that must’ve been like.

         “It’s no problem. You’re our mate, it’s our responsibility to care for you.” Jimin stated, eyes warm as he leaned against the wall nearest where the doors used to be.

         Rosé had remained quiet and by your side, but sensing something in the air she excused herself. “I’ll be going now. Sorry for any trouble I caused.” Yoongi shook his head, “You were nothing but help.” Leaning down, she pressed a kiss against your cheek and said goodbye. “Get well soon.” She waved, before leaving for good.

           Once YN was sure she was gone, she turned her attention back towards the men. "Thank you for letting her come. I know it must've been difficult." Taehyung rolled his eyes, "Please if we hadn't she probably would've called protective services on us." Despite his words, his tone was light not meant to be taken seriously. YN simply nodded, unsure of what to say or where the conversation would go. It was Jimin who took the initiative, "You really scared us. Are your heats normally like that?" YN shook her head, "No. I don't know what happened this time. I think I had a faulty batch or something." It still didn't make sense to her.

          "You should stop taking those things. They aren't good in the long term, plus we can always use alternatives." YN didn't know how she felt about that but figured it was better to go along with whatever they said then to start a fight. "Plus," Taehyung added, "You should let us know when your preheat rolls around. That way we can plan." At this YN did oppose, “Namjoon knew though. I thought he would tell you all.” Jimin sighed, “You can’t trust alphas with that kind of information. I’m sure he did mean to tell us, but it happened so suddenly.”

           YN suddenly wondered exactly where all the alphas were and what rolled they played during their heat. "Where exactly are the others?" The betas exchanged a look. "They're in Namjoon's room. It's been so long since we all experienced a heat, so it kind of triggered their ruts." Yoongi explained, looking a bit frazzled with everything. "And the door?" They all visibly tensed, Taehyung stood up from the wall to walk towards the opposite side of the bed. "That was them. Lost a bit of control when you began to call out for us, but thankfully Yoongi managed to make them snap out of it long enough to get them out." Taehyung then laid down on the bed, causing YN to have to move for there to be enough space for the two of them.

        "Don't worry. We'll install new doors by tonight." Yoongi said as he looked disapprovingly at Taehyung.

         YN took a deep breath, steadying herself, and trying to prepare for what she was about to ask. "How did you take care of me?"

           Her question disoriented the betas. "What do you mean?" Jimin asked, coming to rest on the bed near YN's legs. "We changed your sheets, clothes, and bathed you sometimes. We also tried fever medicine, but you puked that up." The men had taken care of her, but that wasn't what she had meant. "No, I know but I mean did you take care of me?"

           The men’s expressions morphed suddenly, their faces becoming stoic. YN didn’t know whether they were upset or not. “No. We didn’t.” Yoongi spoke through clenched teeth. “You were barely conscious.” It hadn’t been what she expected. Perhaps that is why it had lasted so long, they had refrained from aiding her.

            “Oh. I just thought -”

             “Frankly, I don’t appreciate the accusation.” Taehyung’s voice had dropped at least two octaves lower. Even Jimin seemed to be gripping the bedding tightly.

               YN shook her head, raising her hands up. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was simply asking, but thank you. For respecting me.” It was a lot more than others would do in that situation. Especially with a partial bond established.

               "YN," Jimin called her name, forcing her to look at him. "You are our mate. Don't forget it and don't ever suggest something like that again."

               It seems they were trying to keep their hormones under control, for her sake, but YN could feel the anger radiating off them even in her weakened state. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Not knowing what else to do, YN reached out to touch Jimin and Taehyung’s hands while smiling at Yoongi. After a while, the tension dissipated and all of them were smiling. Each for a different reason, however. YN because she had managed to deescalate a potentially dangerous situation and the men because for the first time since knowing each other YN hadn’t denied being their mate.

         New doors had been installed, though these featured a combination lock the other ones didn't. 'For privacy' YN had been told and though she suspected that was not the only reason, she was at least thankful for it. She was also grateful that her tattoo wasn't ruined because of her heat as that would result in a whole other fiasco. The others had most likely noticed it - difficult to miss it was but hadn't seemed to care. Overall, YN was feeling a lot better and though Yoongi had insisted she rest, YN found that difficult to do. She had showered and applied lotion onto her tattoo before dressing and deciding to explore the grounds. Even though YN longed to go out with everyone else locked in the house, she decided that might not be the best idea.  

           As beautiful as the day was it had a draft which had her skipping over the swimming pool. The patio area was pleasant but seemed typical as did the outdoor kitchen. YN walked to where both side entrances were, eyeing the cameras observing her, but found them to be locked. In the end, YN settled on dragging out the large rug in the middle of her room outside to lay near the lilies. The garden was beautiful, reminding her of a simpler time. She watched as the gentle breeze caused the flowers to sway from side to side. With the sun partly hidden behind clouds, YN was warm but not uncomfortably so. The sound of nature around her was like a sweet lullaby which caused her eyelids to hang heavy after a while.

           This is so nice. Once she closed her eyes, her other senses heightened causing her nose to pick up on the soft smell of cotton. It smelled like a mix of eucalyptus and cotton, fresh and relaxing. "Mm. Smells nice." A soft chuckle reached her ears, YN opened her eyes to see Seokjin standing a few feet away from her. Though her primary reaction was to cower away, once she noticed his clean attire and the slouch in his usually straight spine YN quelled her fears away. "Sorry," Seokjin said softly. "I didn't mean to scare you." YN shook her head, she knew what she should do next: stand up, excuse herself, and walk away. But she was so comfortable on the grass and despite what she'd been warned the alpha in front of her didn't seem like he was in a rut. Didn't smell like it either. "I'm glad you're feeling better. We were all worried." Seokjin seemed awkward standing around, but YN didn't make a move to invite him nor did she dismiss him entirely.

           "Thank you for taking care of me." The smile on her face was genuine even if her words weren't the entire truth. Seokjin nodded but refrained from saying anything else. After a couple of tense seconds where both of them stared at each other expectantly, YN relented. Gesturing over to the carpet before shifting over. Seokjin took the same position as her, laying down staring up at the sky. "You're peaceful when you sleep." He commented, catching YN off guard.

           “As opposed to?” She joked trying to lighten the mood.

           “You were restless last week. Barely slept and even then when you did sleep, we were afraid you weren’t going to wake up again.” He spoke earnestly, tone hushed yet somber.

            "Oh," YN didn't know it had been that bad. She trusted Rosé but knew the omega was a worrier. Seeing the frown nestled between her brows, Seokjin reached over and smoothed the area. YN's eyes widening at his actions. "Don't worry. It wasn't that bad, we just were unprepared." Instead of removing his hand, the alpha trailed towards her cheek, cupping it gently. YN angeled her body so that she was facing him better, "The others told me about what happened. Did I really trigger your rut?" YN knew an alpha's ruts could be just as intense and painful as omegas. YN would never purposely want to inflict that loss of control on someone. No matter who they were.

            Seokjin smiled gently, “Don’t worry. It was only really Namjoon and Hoseok who you triggered. Jungkook and I already had our ruts but we decided to help the others, plus we didn’t want to risk it.” YN had assumed that the younger alpha in his lust-filled rage had been the one to tear down the door, or they all did. Never could she imagine Jungkook aiding the betas. “Then what happened to the door?”

             “Ah,” Seokjin laughed a bit, rubbing the back of his neck. “A fight broke out between us about whether we should take you to a hospital or not. Some of us got a bit territorial, things escalated and well… combine that with our ruts and we felt you weren’t safe so we wanted to take you into the house.”

            “To nest?”

           "Kinda. Jimin argued that you would feel uncomfortable if you woke up and were in a bed with all of us, so a fight broke out." A fight between mates? That YN had never heard of. She expressed said thoughts to Seokjin who only shrugged in response, "We're only human. Most of the time we agree on how to care for our mates, but each of us has different coping mechanisms and we were unprepared."

            YN didn't know why but she felt at ease around Seokjin, maybe because the alpha had never not been respectable and aware of her boundaries. Perhaps because he seemed like the only one who didn't place the pack bond above all or even acted like the stereotypical alpha. She felt they could be friends. That was a lot more than she felt for most of the residents in the house. Still, as the day went on and the sun began to set, the two of them remained on the carpet. Basking in the beauty of the day and each other's presence, though none would admit to it. It wasn't until the last sliver of sunlight remained, that their eyes met once more and YN found herself inkling to know him better. Most surprisingly of all, YN wanted to kiss him.

[28onlythebrave]

i received my pdf copy of We Jace You A Clary Christmas today and i was very excited because i have never read “Awake”, the first chapter of City Of Bones in Jace’ pov, sooo here are some of my favourite parts + my thoughts:

i love this because we don’t get much content of izzy, alec and jace together, and this little banter is so funny

jace noticed clary waaay before she saw him, when they were still outside the club!!! this is something i had never thought about, i always assumed they were already inside when clary and simon arrived. also, he said she is the only person there more attractive than them and that she has some sort of aura around her, which is very cute

jace was still looking at her!!

they hadn’t even talked and jace was already hoping simon wasn’t clary’s boyfriend also alec caught him staring at her while she was dancing and jace denied so alec took the piss out of him lmao i love them

program protection clary has already started in jace’s head!! he is happy she fell so that she couldn’t see the demon in its true form, and stops alec from giving him a stele, even tho he is injured, because he doesn’t want clary to see more

WHERE DO I START?! THIS SO CUTE!!

jace looks at clary and she reminds him of home

he almost died because she distracted him and his first thought is flirting with her??? honestly i love these two so much

jace describes her as so tiny that he could pick her up like a doll size kink we got you boy *wink*

clary tells him not to call her little girl and he apologizes right away, something alec and izzy are shocked of because jace never apologized for anything

THIS RIGHT HERE IS MY FAVOURITE PART EVER. Do i even need to elaborate??? “Clary. Of course that was her name. Clary, clarity, clary sage that folklore said gave mundanes the Sight. A name that sounded like lightness, brightness and seeing. Exactly the right name for a girl who seemed to be able to see anything. To able to see through anything. To able to see right through him” I MEAN!!!!!

once again i need to elaborate lmao:

isabelle mocking jace for flirting with clary amuses me a lot, izzy is one of my fav characters ever my queen

alec sees that jace learned her name right away, ohhh boy you’ll get used to hearing this name very often

jace wants to go find her soo hard, he just wants to bring her to the institute and make her part of his world

izzy tells jace “it’s like you’re awake” and smiles, alec and jace start joking about it but she was actually referring to the fact that jace always looked like he was asleep like nothing really touched him, also she tells this to clary in city of glass (next pic). i find this very endearing, thinking that clary is what woke jace up

[rosesgonerogue]

Let the Sunshine In - Prologue

It’s here! This is the prologue of the Jasonette fic I’ve been promising to celebrate my 100+ followers. I’m going to apologize in advance, this particular section is kind of angsty. I recently watched Under the Red Hood, and I’m in the middle of Violet Evergarden and I HAVE EMOTIONS. 

***********************

Ladybug collapsed in an empty alleyway, her entire body screaming from the latest akuma attack. She desperately wanted to cry, but she couldn’t give Hawkmoth any reason to try to akumatize her. Besides, in this state, she might just agree to his demands. 

She still had a few minutes before she transformed back, and in desperation, she flipped open her yo-yo. “I know the Justice League told me to stop ‘prank calling,’ but… I just need to feel like someone cares about this city. Please find me one person who is willing to help.” 

Jason should have been at school, but after getting in a fight he’d made the executive decision that he was taking the rest of the day off. He knew Alfred was planning on cleaning the mansion that day, so he found himself loitering around the Batcave when a call came in.

He was already in costume for… training, so Jason just had to slap on his Robin mask before answering. “Hello?” 

On the screen was the most beautiful girl that Jason had ever seen. She looked around his age, wearing a red-spotted suit and a matching domino mask. However, her mask didn’t obscure the clearest blue eyes that Jason had ever seen. They were entrancing, but also a bit broken, like him. She had seen too much, done too much. 

“Hello?” she said in heavily accented English. “Who is this?” 

“You’re calling a super-secure super computer, sweetcheeks. I believe that’s my line,” Robin said with an impish grin. 

He immediately regretted his statement when the girl looked close to crying. “I-I’m Ladybug, one of Paris’s heroes.” 

“But Paris doesn’t have--”

“Obviously we do have heroes,” the girl--Ladybug--snapped. “I’m not just a child pretending like the Justice  League accused me of. Our heroes are real, and our villain is very real. Hawkmoth is getting better and more dangerous as time goes by. I don’t know how much more our city can handle.” 

Jason straightened, somehow already sold on this girl’s story. “Do you have any photographs or footage of any of the events? I can talk to Batman about it--or at the very least irritate him until he listens.” 

Ladybug’s eyes widened, a glimmer of hope lighting up her face. “Batman? That means you’re--”

She was cut off by a beeping noise that made her curse softly under her breath. “I have to go, but I’ll call again. Thank you for listening, Robin.” 

“I’ll do what research I can, Ladybug. We’ll help you out,” Jason promised earnestly. 

Marinette smiled, the first genuine smile she’d had for days, possibly longer. Probably since she had become the Guardian of the Miracle Box. “You really don’t know how much I needed someone to care, Robin. Thank you. Bug out.” 

From then on, Ladybug fought with the knowledge and hope that people could and did care about her city. She called Robin on and off to plan how to convince the League that the situation in Paris was very real. He was brilliant, although it was obvious that everyone could see it except Robin himself. They even got to the point that Marinette would call them friends. There were a lot of things she couldn’t tell him and he couldn’t tell her, but they learned to ease one another’s burdens in whatever ways they could. Robin made her feel like Marinette could handle being the Guardian, and Ladybug made Jason feel like he was more than a street kid who couldn’t fill Dick Grayson’s shoes.

Things seemed to be looking up for Marinette on all accounts--schoolwork seemed easier, she had just the perfect number of commissions, and Lila had at least temporarily directed her attention elsewhere. 

They had set aside a time to plan every week, but one week Jason didn’t answer right away. Marinette didn’t think anything of it at first, he was probably busy. But when she tried again, it wasn't Robin that answered, but Batman. 

“How did you get this channel?” he demanded in a voice gruffer than Marinette thought was possible for a human being to produce. “Who are you?”

“L-Ladybug. I’m Ladybug, sir, and I was calling for Robin.” 

At these words, the man’s face distorted into the embodiment of distrust and rage. “You think this is funny? Because I will--”

“What’s wrong?” Marinette asked, dread curdling in her stomach. “Did something happen to Robin?” 

She couldn’t see his eyes from behind the cowl, but Marinette knew Batman was glaring at her, the singularly most terrifying moment of her life. “Robin is dead, because that’s what happens when children try to play hero. Leave that kind of thing to the adults, little girl, unless you want to end up the same way.” 

Robin is dead. 

Robin is dead. 

Robin is dead. 

Those three words pounded through Marinette’s head like an inescapable drumbeat. At some point the yo-yo had fallen out of her hand, and Batman had hung up with the strict instructions never to call again. 

The world felt fuzzy, not quite real to Marinette. In an unexpected moment of clarity, though, Marinette realized: strong emotions were coming. She knew she wouldn’t be able to deny Hawkmoth, not with the fresh grief coursing through her. Right now, even if it was just a short time, she needed to be able to feel. 

Marinette swung herself through Paris’s streets faster than ever before, launching herself at her balcony with desperation. Her transformation timed out just as she landed, making it easier to slip on Kaalki’s glasses. 

She had transformed with Kaalki once or twice before, and for some reason this kwami always made her feel a bit antsy. The second that the transformation settled, Marinette opened up a portal to the first place in her mind that was both out of Hawkmoth’s range, and secluded enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about being seen or heard. 

It was too much, losing Master Fu and then Robin. They had been the only things keeping Marinette sane and grounded, and she couldn’t talk about them with anyone else. That combined with the pressure of being Ladybug made Marinette feel like she was going to explode. So she screamed, she screamed until her voice broke, dissolving into pathetic sobbing as she collapsed in on herself on the forest floor. 

One by one, the kwamis emerged and surrounded her, concerned. 

Tikki was the first to speak. “Are you alright, Marinette?” 

“How did he die?” 

The kwamis traded uneasy glances. “What?” 

“Robin. Can you tell me how he died?” Marinette asked, clutching her knees to her chest. “I just… I need to know.” 

“Marinette, I don’t think--”

“She deserves to know,” Wayzz said, interrupting Tikki. “Marinette is no child. SHe’s already had Master Fu taken from her, but she can’t grieve with anyone. She can’t even speak to anyone about it but us. She needs this closure, even if it’s heavy to bear.” 

Tikki reluctantly agreed. “This would be easier if Plagg were here, but we can probably show you an approximation of what happened to the boy.” 

The kwamis present circled around her, a soft magic glow spreading across all of them. A series of images flashed through her mind, each worse than the last: the glint of a raised crowbar, a pale face with a maniacal grin, blood spattered across grimy floorboards… The worst of all, however, was the image of Robin’s face as the bomb counted down to zero, the hopelessness that came from knowing that no one would come to save him. 

Logically there had been no way for Marinette to know that any of this was happening, but she knew she would never be able to forgive herself. One of her only allies in the entire world had died scared and alone, and there was no excuse for that. 

She allowed herself to cry for a while longer, the torrent of emotions too much. But alas, negative emotions, and often emotions in general were a luxury that Marinette Dupain-Cheng could not afford. When her tears ran out, Marinette simply straightened up, fed Kaalki a sugar cube, and went back to Paris. 

From that day on, Marinette never spoke of Master Fu or Robin again, even to the kwami. She locked them deep in her heart where they could stay until Hawkmoth had been dealt with. As both Marinette and Ladybug, she devoted herself to ensuring that no one would ever feel as alone and afraid as Robin had. 

Ladybug was stronger, better at her job than before while Marinette was kinder, more helpful, and more generous than ever. To some it seemed like it was the same as always, but those that really knew her had noticed: her smile was never the same. It was… damaged, somehow, something like seeing the outline of the sun through a veil of clouds.

**********************

This fic is NOT going to be like this most of the time, I swear. I have a good friend that I swap story ideas with named Kit, and we have a lot of fluffy nonsense ahead, with the occaisional splashes of angst. This is actually going to take place a few years in the future, when Marinette is starting college. Just as an FYI, I write fanfiction because it’s fun, but also because it gives me a medium to get feedback and improve my writing. Let me know what you guys think, and if you have any questions or suggestions. This is a side blog, so just know that when I reply in the comments, it’s under the username rogueptoridactyl. Just let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, and hopefully you guys like it! 

Taglist:  @slytherinsheashire @cravethosecrazysquares @krispydefendorpolice @thesunanditsangel @sonif50 @kris-pines04 @persephonebutkore @tbehartoo @corabeth11 @caffeinetheory @drarryismylife101 @bluerosette23 @weird-pale-blonde-person @mystery-5-5 @heaven428 @thethirdwheelfriend @thetinymoonflower @interobanginyourmom @chocolate1721 @akana-sama @skyel0ve @katiegardneriscoolerthanyou

[alwaysmychoices]

Are you still doing HC requests? I’ve been thinking if Ethan didn’t back out in Miami and didn’t push MC away and they started their relationship then?

I know there are a few series about this kind of thing, and I used to be obsessed with them but apparently can’t remember any of their names to tag them. If anyone has some recommendations, please drop them below.

Also, I wanted to make this fluffy, but the more time I thought about it, the messier it got… I think that their relationship works in Book 2 because they’ve grown so much, but Book 1 Ethan and MC are just so chaotic. I basically just rewrote Book 1, so I may not have really delivered on this HC… If you want more fluffy stuff, feel free to hmu again, and I’ll see what I can do, lol.

Ethan & MC Dating after Miami  🔥 💖

⚪ Kissing each other in Miami was arguably the best and worst thing MC and Ethan had ever done.

⚪ Even in the moment, it felt monumental. It felt dangerous. But it also felt… right. Unsettlingly right. Like, no matter how hard they tried, they wouldn’t forget it.

⚪ There was a moment when Ethan almost backed out – when they were walking back to the hotel room and he was suddenly devoid of MC’s close proximity. There was a wave of clarity where he recognized that, no matter how right this felt, it was wrong.

⚪ But then she looked back at him… That soft smile, those shining eyes. And he realized he recognized the look. She had always looked at him like that. She had always wanted this.

⚪ Ethan wasn’t sure what changed in him, but he didn’t stop himself. Instead, he gently whispered, “You might just be worth the risk, Rookie.”

⚪ The next morning, MC was afraid he would change his mind again and push her away, but he didn’t.

⚪ When they got back to Boston, things were strange.

⚪ They didn’t know what they were doing. Those first days were made up of awkward exchanges, clumsy hookups when they absolutely couldn’t stop themselves, and a quiet understanding that whatever they had was stronger than they originally thought.

⚪ They didn’t say it, but it never felt like casual sex. In fact, nothing about it felt casual.

⚪ They didn’t know how to talk to each other at work, and worse than that, they didn’t know how to talk to each other when they were alone. The transition was clumsy and terrifying.

⚪ It didn’t help that their lives were slowly falling apart.

⚪ Miami wasn’t the night when everything changed. That was just the night they acknowledged what they felt.

⚪ No, the night that changed everything started as a normal Thursday. Naveen’s illness was getting worse, and MC’s career was being sabotaged by some unknown force. But those weren’t the things they kinds of things they shared – not yet.

⚪ MC came over to Ethan’s apartment late after work. And after they had sex, it was just silent.

⚪ None of this felt right. This wasn’t what they hoped for. The magic wasn’t gone, but it was stifled.

⚪ Maybe they were wrong to even start this thing.

⚪ Ethan was the one to say it, and when he was done, MC didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t want this to be the end, but what else were they supposed to do?

⚪ She left without saying anything.

⚪ And it felt wrong.

Both of them knew it.

⚪ Ethan took a long, hot shower trying to drown out the thoughts. He made a mistake, and he knew he had. He went over all the arguments against their relationship, but none of them were able to overpower his need to get her back.

⚪ When he called, MC didn’t answer.

⚪ So, at one in the morning, Ethan took a cab to her apartment.

⚪ He felt a little ridiculous when he did it. People don’t do this for the person they’re just having sex with.

⚪ But when was he ever “just” having sex with MC?

⚪ She answered his third call, and to his surprise, she came to the door to hear him out.

⚪ Ethan apologized, which was enough to startle MC. He said that he wanted to see this through, even if it was complicated (and a little unethical).

⚪ When he stopped talking, he realized she was smiling the same smile she gave him in Miami. That was enough for him to know he made the right decision.

⚪ After that, things were different. They had rules and expectations. And they both knew that this was something real. Even if they didn’t put a label on it, they knew they were together now.

⚪ The next few months were hard, but it was a little bit easier having the other with them.

⚪ They both had a lot of growing to do. Ethan’s conscience and sense of propriety remained a looming threat. MC thought she could everything, often to the detriment of what really mattered. Secrecy just added a new element to an already tricky relationship.

⚪ They fought.

⚪ The fights were always different. Sometimes, they were screaming in his apartment. Others, they were passive aggressive for hours on end. Often, it ended with them making up in spectacular fashion that night.

⚪ But a few times, the fights turned ugly.

⚪ Because, as much as they adored each other, they weren’t always sure if they were ready for this relationship.

⚪ They disagreed on so many things. Like if you should be nice at work. Or if MC expected to much of herself or if Ethan expected too much of everyone. They even disagreed on whether or not they even knew each other or if they were just building fantasies around the other person. Most annoyingly, Ethan viewed MC as naïve, a charge directly attributed to her youth. She thought he was just a cynical asshole.

⚪ But the big disagreement was the diagnostic team.

⚪ Ethan didn’t think it would be ethical for her to join. MC thought that was ridiculous. When they started dating, Ethan assured her that he didn’t want to harm her career or her reputation. He respected her as a physician, and he had great expectations of what she could achieve.

⚪ So, who did he think he was to hold her back now?

⚪ In the middle of one of their screaming fights, MC decided to remove his ethical dilemma and broke up with him.

⚪ It wasn’t the first time one of them threatened to end their relationship, but surprisingly, this one stuck.

⚪ And neither of them particularly liked that.

⚪ But they were stubborn – far too stubborn to accept defeat and ask for forgiveness.

⚪ They kept working together, and their coworkers politely pretended not to notice that their demeanor had changed. Naveen was the only one to call them out on it, but they never confirmed anything.

⚪ And then… Naveen checked out of the hospital, Ethan resigned, Mrs. Martinez died, and MC was suspended under ethical charges.

⚪ It was different after that.

⚪ The fight felt silly.

⚪ They missed each other so much…

⚪ MC called to see how Ethan was doing after Naveen decided to embrace his illness and accept his death. Ethan wanted to know if she was okay, too.

⚪ The call lasted two hours.

⚪ Just minutes after they hung up, MC went over to his apartment.

⚪ The second he saw her, he swept her up in a tight hug, and they both apologized.

⚪ The night that MC won the ethics trial, she celebrated with her friends and ended the night in Ethan’s bed.

⚪ Ethan told her that he wanted to go back to Edenbrook but that he wouldn’t return if that meant losing her. She agreed that he needed to go back, even if she was sad that meant going back to secrecy.

⚪ She was almost asleep when he whispered that he loved her.

⚪ He didn’t know she heard until she said it back.

⚪ The next morning, Naveen appointed MC to the diagnostics team, and their fragile relationship was under stress once again.

⚪ But this time, things were different.

⚪ They made their rules, and they openly discussed their concerns without yelling. They decided what they were comfortable with, and they vowed to communicate the entire time.

⚪ That summer was amazing.

⚪ They went on dates in the park, and Ethan spent a whole Saturday teaching MC how to sail. They kissed under the moonlight, and Ethan even introduced MC to his father. They never said they were dating, but after dinner, Alan made of point of telling his son how much he liked MC.

⚪ They actually got to know each other – the good, the bad, and the messy parts.

⚪ They grew as individuals and as a couple.

⚪ And then, things were almost easy.

⚪ There were messy moments, of course. They were both extremely stubborn, and working together, they had ample opportunities to disagree. But the disagreements were less dangerous now.

⚪ They were the worst kept secret in Edenbrook, and eventually, they dropped the pretense all together. They were never explicit about their relationship, but since everyone already knew, they didn’t go out of their way to keep it a secret either.

⚪ The second time Ethan said he loved MC, there was no life-changing event to prompt it. He just looked over at her one night and realized he was in love. He considered holding on to that information and making his declaration romantic and bold. But instead, he told her right there, right then.

⚪ She asked, “So, was I worth the risk in the end?”

⚪ “Definitely,” he replied.

⚪ “You, were, too,” MC paused for a moment, and just to be sure, she added, “Oh, and I love you, too. In case you weren’t sure.”

⚪ The amazing thing was Ethan actually was sure before she said it. And Ethan was hardly the kind of person to trust something that that.

⚪ In Miami, they had a feeling that this was right, and they were correct.

⚪ In fact, it was even better than they thought.

[httpjeon]

❝book of beasts: from the ashes❞ myg― m.

— summary: you perform a spell to meet your familiar; what you don’t expect is a centuries-old phoenix to be the one attached to your soul.

phoenix!yoongi/witch!reader | mythical shifter!au | fluff, smut, angst | 12k ↬ content warnings: reincarnation, soulmates, character death, corpses, murder, violent, mentions of black market slavery, blood, knives, loss of virginity, virgin kink if you squint, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, yoongi pushes you, light argument, regrets, crying, witch-hunting

a/n: finally, another fic for this series is out! it took me ages but i did enjoy this yoongi!

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Ever since you were a child, there had always been stories of reincarnation and soulmates being told around you. There was even an elderly lady in your village who could recall her past life with startling clarity.

It had always been a wonder to you, if you also had a past life and someone who you were destined to be with. As far as you knew, you couldn't remember anything other than your current life. Nothing had ever stood out to you with strange deja vu that many reincarnates would speak of feeling.

You had learned magic as a child, discovering that even though you weren't born a witch, you still had a natural affinity to the craft. When your parents died and your village eventually lost economic value, you decided to travel in order to find more knowledge of the world.

However, the world outside of your quaint little village you were born in was harsh and unforgiving in your status as a taught witch. Numerous towns outright rejected your presence, not accepting anyone except a pure-witch. It saddened you, to be told to leave as if you were a plague and receiving vicious glares and cruel whispers behind your back.

You supposed there was good reason; after the genocide against their kind many, many years ago — they were wary of outsiders in their close-knit communities.

You began to wonder if you'd ever find a place to settle down and call your home, you had turned 18 and you knew it was time to find a place to live.

Just as you began to give up on the idea of being able to live among witches, you came across Caelfall.

The sign leading to the town made your heart ache with nostalgia. You just couldn't describe it but it felt like you'd been walking through this very place before.

You were thrilled when you managed to snag a little shack on the outskirts to the town fit with a little personal garden that was in dire need of a good weeding. But it was definitely a good place to grow nightshade and various ingredients instead of having to buy them from the market. The place was a bit of a walk from the market anyway so growing common and easy things would definitely be a good idea.

Your good feeling of finally having a home was quickly vanquished when you realized the people of Caelfall were not as happy to have you in their midst. With a population of mostly elder witches, they stuck to the ideal that those who learned magic were not to be trusted; whether they believed you were a threat or simply foul in your learned status, you didn't know.

The first frustrating act committed upon you was when you arrived in the town's Apothecary to see what type of things you had to look at. An elder witch named Agnes was standing there, smiling but the second she saw your face that smile turned into a glare that you swear sent your soul six feet under. You powered through, offering a smile only to receive nothing in return before you looked at the various ingredients and premade potions that decorated the little shop.

When you attempted to purchase a packet of nightshade seeds, she had charged you twice as much as the price tag said. When you spoke up about it, she told you to either pay the price or you got nothing and you nearly left over it. However, a young girl with startling red hair about your age came from the back of the store, calling in a scolding tone "Mother! That's not fair!"

You were shocked when the young lady shooed her mother back to where she had originally come from. She apologized on her mother's behalf saying "Her mind and opinions are still stuck in that of when she was a child, that'll be 10 Silver for those seeds!"

And that was how you got your seeds for the right price and managed to start your little garden.

Your next run-in with Agnes was when you wanted to sell your nightshade to her but she tried to jip you by paying only half of what you knew you should have gotten. As a result, you had to go to the market to sell your goods.

The market had various stalls with people selling, buying, and trading; most of the people were outsiders who would come and go over time.

It was at one of these stalls that you met a girl by the name of Calypso who had paid you very fairly. She also happened to be selling various wares which led you to coming across a Spell Book.

When you looked through the pages, you were incredibly excited to see so many spells that you had never gotten the chance to learn or even seen before.

"How much?" You asked, making Calypso smile at your excitement.

"130 Silver originally but I'll give it to you for 100,"

"I can get that money up in a few months will you be here?" You questioned.

"A few months, I'll even put it aside for you and save it for you, okay?"

She was a godsend, truly.

And you were true to your word, managing to get the book in 3 months as you sold as many things in the market as you could possibly manage.

Though constantly working and going back and forth between the market was exhausting, it was worth it in the end.

The pure exhilaration and excitement you felt as you were finally sitting at your potions table with the beautiful, intricate leather-bound book sitting in front of you was palpable.

There was one spell among the hundreds that the book possessed that you just knew you had to perform. It was a deep-seeded need that you felt you must do it, almost as if your very soul was commanding that you do it.

The one spell that everyone knew learned-witches just couldn't successfully cast. It was something only those born as a witch could perform because they're the only ones who could possibly possess one.

The Familiar Spell.

There was something you just couldn't shake that told you you had to perform it, you had to find the end result. There was something at the end of this tunnel that you needed to see or discover. You would learn something about yourself in the process, you were sure.

The spell called for Nightshade of any color, Eye of Newt and a simple few Slips of Yew. The only ingredient that would be hard to procure at the moment would be the Yew.

The plant tended to fetch a high price so you had sold what you had to get the 100 Silver to afford the book.

This meant that you would have to venture into the forest to locate what you could find. Ingredients were usually readily found growing in the land surrounding where witches lived; it's why they settled in their particular villages.

The air was chilly and there was a slight breeze as you ventured into the forest. You held your worn wicker basket in your hands, your fingers beginning to burn as they were exposed more and more to the cool air. Sniffling, you followed down an overgrown path and you briefly wondered how long it had been since a witch actually had to come and fetch her own ingredients.

With the economy of the country booming, ingredients and things of that sort were increasingly easy to come by. Even peddlers from other lands would come to sell which ultimately made having to hunt through the forests on your own completely useless. You should count yourself lucky since that merely meant things would be very easy to procure in your predicament.

"Ah there," You muttered, your voice being drowned out by a slightly stronger gust of wind. Perhaps a storm was beginning to roll in.

Either way, the Yew was in your sights and you rushed up to collect what you needed. However, just as you began to sift through the green to gather berries, something caught your attention.

Standing behind the tree, hidden in vines and moss and covered by tall trees surrounding it was a structure. The walls were gray and a large archway stood, though cracked and partially crumbling away, as the entrance to it.

It was some type of ancient shrine.

Unable to keep your curiosity at bay, you stumbled your way through the brush and squeezed past trees until you were standing just before the entrance to the shrine. As you stood there, the hairs on your arms began to stand up and there was undeniable heat coming from within the building. It wasn't just hot, it was pure electrically charged.

The entire building was infused with magic. Magic that had even your own magic bubbling and sparking from within, and you weren't even a pure blood. 

This shrine was built by a witch — a powerful witch at that.

The whole place seemed to emit a vibrant purple glow; and you could see the faint magic markings of sigils casted into the stone of the building.

Clutching your basket tighter, you stepped up to the doors; they were simple wood but had engravings carved all along them. The doorknob was burning hot to the touch but for some reason, it didn't hurt though it felt like it should have. Perhaps it was a ward of some sort to keep non-witches from entering.

The door creaked loudly enough to make you flinch when you opened it, and you had to hold your breath at the gust of dust that invaded your throat. You doubled over, choking and coughing as your basket toppled to the floor and spilled your ingredients all over the floor with it.

The magic and energy in the air was palpable and as your coughing died down, you opened your eyes to see a completely different scene than what you had walked in on.

Instead of cobwebs and dust hanging in the air, everything was clear and even it seemed sunlight was now filtering through the windows. The walls were awash with beautiful purple instead of murky gray and the wood was now bright and in one piece contrasting to the rotting material you saw moments before. You noted that there was, however, still a big black burn scorched into the floor that didn't disappear, instead it became more prominent as the veil of grime disappeared.

As confused as you were, you were more intrigued with the podium and a table full of jars and ingredients that sat on the other side of the room. The floor creaked as you moved towards it, your heart pounding in your chest as you felt your very soul glowing in response to a certain book sitting innocently on the podium. It felt as if it was calling for you and you couldn't stop your hands from touching it.

You gasped, yanking your hands back as the material delivered a sharp zap to your skin. It wasn't painful, it just startled you and left your hands oddly tingly.

You carefully pulled the strap out of the loop that held the book closed, allowing it to fly open.

You watched with wide eyes as the pages flicked by on their own, the sound of paper moving filling the otherwise silent shrine. As it was empty, the sound seemed to be amplified. The book had a mind of its own, locating a page near the back of the book before falling still.

The Familiar Spell.

Mentally you complained about the fact you literally just spent 100 Silver to buy a book with this spell when this one was just sitting here literally inviting you to use it for free. But that was the least of your worries as behind you, glasses and jars began to clink and move.

This was true magic; an unknown force performing the spell without you even having to lift a finger.

"A Residual Spell," You mumbled, watching in wonder as the Eye of Newt jar popped open all on its own. A Residual Spell is a spell left behind by a witch who infused her own magic, usually through a scroll or runes, to perform a spell by being activated via unknown means — a specific trigger chosen by the witch. Whatever that trigger was, you seemed to accidentally cause her magic to release and now it was going to complete this raise familiar spell on its own.

But wouldn't that mean it was going to raise her familiar? What would happen if someone else's familiar were raised in your presence with no corresponding Witch to be by its side?

You didn't have very long to wonder as the spell was effortlessly completed.

The floor beneath you rumbled and vibrated, ultimately knocking you completely off of your feet. You groaned as your shoulder slammed against the wood floor.

"What—" The place where the black burn was scarred into the floor was glowing a vibrant purple. The temperature in the room raised what felt like 50 degrees, sweat forming on your skin as you watched flames physically erupt from the scorched spot.

You were sitting up now, watching with wide eyes as a figure formed through the flames followed by an ear piercing shriek that had you covering your ears with your hands.

The bird's wings stretched wide, showing vibrant splashes of red and orange colors. Razor sharp talons scratched the floor beneath it as it shook its body to fluff it's own feathers up.

Then, before your very eyes it let out another deafening shriek and this time you squeezed your eyes shut as you felt if you kept them open the octave of its cry might literally cause your eyes to pop out of their sockets.

Then, everything became deathly still.

Opening your eyes, the bird was now gone and in its place stood a pale man with pure onyx hair that hung over his face. His sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you through his bangs with his mouth open as if he were in shock.

"It's you..." He muttered before he was suddenly stomping his way across the room to drop to his knees before you.

"Wha-Who are you?" You whispered, now trembling slightly from the shock of everything.

"...I'm called Yoongi," Then the corners of his lips raised lightly and he placed his hand over your cheek. "I'm your familiar."

"What are you talking about? I didn't raise you, the magic did it on it's own," You muttered, shaking his hand off your cheek and standing up. You missed the way his smile fell before he too stood up.

"I am your familiar," He reiterates, leaving no room for you to argue with him. "I am yours only."

"A-Alright," His choice in words had your face heating up as you scampered back over to the door. There was no real reason for you to not believe a familiar claiming he is yours. If it weren't true, he'd surely let you know. "Th-Then I guess w-we...should go home?"

He smiled, this time it was a vibrant smile that had his eyes crinkling in the corners. Your heart sped up, a frustrating feeling of deja vu settling in your mind.

"Yeah, home," He repeated, following you to the door.

The longer Yoongi was in your home, the more his scent seemed to pierce into every inch of the place. It was smoky, strangely familiar and soothing.

He had knowledge of many things, helping you to learn and perfect spells.

You found him looking over the spell book from the shrine; it was difficult for you to read because over half of the spells were written in an ancient text you couldn't understand.

"What're you up to Yoongi?" You asked, placing your freshly picked nightshade on the table as you took a seat.

"I uh..." He cleared his throat, tapping his fingers on the surface of the page he was on. "I'm translating some of the spells for you."

"Oh?" You couldn't help but smile, leaning forward to see that he was, indeed, making notes along the expanse of the old, dulled writing. "You didn't have to do that."

"Well..." He cleared his throat and suddenly slammed the book shut, standing up. You couldn't miss the way his ears were burning red as he grabbed your nightshade flowers and began to pick the petals off of them and place them in a pile.

Yoongi had a quiet sense of kindness, he was never boisterous about his actions — simply doing them out of the goodness of his heart. He was easily flustered, which was endearing, especially coming from an ancient creature.

He had lived with you for about one week before he finally crawled into your bed. You hadn't realized he had been doing it, only noticing the increasing scent of smoke in your blankets. It wasn't until he rolled over one night, curled up into a small ball as he nestled into your side, waking you up that you realized he was there.

His lips were parted, features relaxed in a way you hadn't seen them before. He was breathtakingly beautiful with flawless, pale skin that seemed to glow against the deep shade of black in his hair. Mindlessly, you reached out to stroke his cheek and couldn't help but smile when he subconsciously nestled into your touch.

Having him beside you felt...so right. It was indescribable.

Something, deep inside you, told you that you needed him there — right beside you.

So you snuggled back down under your blanket and curled yourself around Yoongi's body. Easily, the two of you melted together as if you'd done it time and time again.

When the sun rose above the horizon, you took great pleasure in watching Yoongi blush as you told him; "You don't have to sneak into my bed, you know."

And after that, he would go to bed with you instead of waiting up and pretending like he wasn't tired as he watched you hunker down for sleep. He didn't have to ignore the pull to snuggle beside you until you fell asleep — instead, slipped in with you the second you indicated it was time for bed.

Even if he wasn't tired, he would go with you.

It was two weeks before he let slip the name 'Circe'.

"Circe, I think you should—" He cut himself off, stiffening under the confused gaze you set upon him. "I mean _____, you should try this spell out. I think we have all the ingredients for it. I translated it yesterday."

"Who's Circe?" You asked, taking the book from his hands as he held it out for you.

"It's nothing — just a slip up," He replied quickly, obviously not willing to advance with that conversation.

It happened again, though subconsciously, as he snuggled up to you one night. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, making your face burn hot with a blush as he woke you up. His breath fanned over the back of your neck and he squeezed you tighter as if he were afraid you would slip away from him.

"Circe...'m sorry..." He whispered trailing off into a series of unintelligible mumbling. What stuck out to you, however, was the pained intonation in his voice as if he were desperate for Circe to hear his apology.

Similar incidents continued to happen without fail. They were casual slip-ups, the name rolling off his tongue with practiced ease. It was a name he'd uttered many times in the past, you could tell. But no matter how much you pestered him to tell you, he would completely clam up.

You couldn't deny that it hurt your feelings that he wouldn't tell you. There was also the shameful feeling of jealousy lingering in your heart, burrowing deeper with every utterance of the name.

Why was he comparing you to her so much? Why wouldn't he tell you about her?

Was she really so important that he couldn't let her go even though he had been dead for 3 centuries.

Without meaning to, you began to hate Circe — a faceless mystery woman who seemed to haunt the heart of your familiar.

"Yoongi, did you get the fruits from the market like I asked?" You asked as you stood at your table, mashing ingredients together in preparation for practicing a new spell.

"Oh shoot...I'm sorry Circe—" He froze from where he was flipping through the spell book you had bought.

You sighed, pausing in your own activity to turn to look at him. He was stiff as a board, gnawing on his bottom lip. No doubt, he felt your eyes burning into him but he pretended not to notice.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" You asked, making Yoongi flinch as he was reminded he made the mistake again. Instead of answering, however, he kept his back to you and shrugged his shoulders.

You were growing frustrated. He was obviously avoiding it and it was obviously weighing heavy on his mind if he kept making the same mistake.

You were more frustrated with him than he realized and more hurt than you would like to admit.

"Yoongi, look at me," You commanded, walking up behind him.

He heaved a sigh and slowly turned to look at you, staring at you through the dark veil of his bangs. The tension that spread between the two of you was thick, it made you swallow nervously. Out of your peripheral, you saw the way his hands clenched closed so hard his knuckles turned white.

He exhaled and it made you realize how close together your faces were, his breath fanning over your skin. When you looked into his eyes again, you were shocked by how dark and heated they were.

Then he was leaning down, his lips ever so softly brushing against yours. It was fleeting and before you knew it, he was pulling back. Before he could get too far from you, however, you tangled your hands in the softness of his hair and pulled him back down for a much deeper kiss.

His hands, strong and rough, gripped your waist to pull you flush against his body. You were more than surprised to find that he was at least half-hard in his pants already.

There was something familiar about his touch, comforting and sweet as he stripped your body of all your clothes. You'd imagined being embarrassed in a situation like this; a man hovering above your naked, vulnerable body.

But as Yoongi’s lips trailed sweetly over you skin, you felt more relaxed than ever. The way he looked at you was almost pained, as if you were something so precious to him that it hurt him. His touch mimicked his gaze, holding you and touching you like you were made of glass that he needed to handle you with the utmost care lest you break apart beneath his hands.

You curiously touched his bare chest, mesmerized by the heat his body emitted. The Phoenix fire that was embedded in his very soul caused him to be incredibly warm. He smiled, leaning down to press his lips against yours again. You moved in unison with him, as if the kiss had been performed time and time again but you knew that wasn't the case.

Yoongi was the first man you'd been with in such a way. 

So why was it that your bodies worked together like a well-oiled machine?

You weren't able to dwell on it for long as he parted from the kiss and began to trail his lips down your neck, over your collar bones and down the center of your chest.

"Can I touch you?" He asked as if his lips weren't already where no man's had been.

"Y-Yes..." You breathed, biting your lip when he eagerly and suddenly enveloped a pert nipple in his mouth.

He cupped your other breast with his hand, thumbing over your neglected nipple. You whined clutching the pillow beneath your head. His mouth was hot, burning against the sensitive bud as he nipped it with his teeth. He added the perfect amount of pressure, working your breasts perfectly so that you were growing wetter by the second.

Unable to resist the urge, you reached down to card your fingers through his hair; so soft and thick. His dark eyes flickered up to meet your gaze and your heart stuttered in your chest at what you saw.

His irises were glassy, as if he were holding himself back from shedding tears. He pulled his mouth off of your nipple with a soft pop before he was surging forward to bring you in for a kiss again.

He gripped your knees, pulling your legs open so he could slot himself between them. You noticed he was as naked as you now, the hard heat of his cock nudging against your thighs.

"Yoongi..." You whispered, a sense of apprehension filling you at what the situation was implying.

Were you about to have sex with your familiar? Lose your virginity to him?

"Do you want this, ______?" He asked, voice low and raspy but oh so patient.

Did you want this?

You questioned yourself as you looked up at him, your hands pressed against his chest where you could feel his heart beat wildly from within. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were red and swollen from the kisses you'd shared.

As you met his gaze; warmth and comfort swirling within the dark irises you realized that, yes, you did want this.

"Please Yoongi," You whisper, canting your hips upward with a small whine.

"You're so perfect," He muttered, placing kisses along your sternum as one of his hands began to trail up your inner thigh. "So wet."

You whined when his fingertips ghosted along the sensitive folds of your heat. You spread your legs wider, eagerly inviting him to touch you some more. He took the invitation and slid two fingers between your folds, grazing your leaking entrance and swollen clit.

"Oh Yoongi..." You gasped when those fingers zeroed in on your bud, dragging your arousal from your entrance upwards to circle it until your thighs were trembling.

"Let me in," He whispered, prodding your entrance with two thick fingers.

His lips brushed against yours to distract you as he suddenly pushed those two digits inside you. There was a sting and you whimpered, clutching his shoulders tightly. He held still, allowing your walls to adjust to the intrusion before crooking his fingers upwards to touch a little spot inside you that made your hips buck.

The sensation was foreign but not unpleasant at all. His thumb moved to circle over your clit as he slowly began to fuck you with those two fingers. You held your thighs open, mouth falling open at the sensations shocking your system.

Before long, he was nudging a third fingers into your hole. The stretch wasn't anywhere near as bad as the first intrusion -- your walls having grown accustomed and prepared for the new addition. Yoongi's eyes flickered between your face, checking your reactions, and your core to watch how you messily accepted his fingers inside you.

"You're ready," He muttered, mostly to himself before sliding his fingers out of you. You felt empty immediately and whined as you walls clenched pathetically around nothing. His brought his fingers up to his lips, sliding them in to taste your juices on his tongue. The sight was incredible arousing, making you gush which brought a blush to your cheeks.

"Yoongi please," You whined, biting your lip as you watched him position himself at your entrance.

The tip of his cock was hot, sliding between your folds to gather your arousal along the underside of him. You gasped, glancing down to watch as he easily popped the thick head of his cock inside you.

It was more of a stretch than his fingers but it was welcomed and felt incredibly pleasurable to be filled again. Yoongi took your hands in his as he surged forward, moaning as more of your cunt swallowed him. He felt hot and hard inside you, cock throbbing at every noise you made.

When he bottomed out, he froze and leaned down to bring you into another kiss. Being filled by him was exhilarating, he pressed against that spot inside you that made your walls spasm around him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as his tongue met yours. He tasted sweet, the remnants of your juices still lingering in his mouth.

"I c-can't believe I get to have you like this again..." He whispered, voice sounding watery as he pulled back from the kiss to nuzzle against your neck.

The meaning of those words were lost on you as you felt the wetness of his tears on your shoulder.

"Yoongi..." You cooed, hugging him tightly against you to comfort him.

You remained like that for several seconds before Yoongi's tears turned into feather-light kisses along your skin. Your nails dug into his shoulders when he suddenly pulled back, his cock sliding deliciously against your walls before he pushed back in. He kissed your cervix, a little jolt of pain mixing with the pleasure.

His forehead rested against yours, fingers clutching the bed on either side of your head. Your breathing mingled as he set a steady pace — his pelvic bone grinding against your clit every time he sunk into you.

"I-It feels so good, Yoongi," You whimpered, lashes fluttering when he angled his hips to hit your spot.

"Yeah?" He chuckled, a cocky smirk gracing his lips.

You didn't get to say another word because he was pushing off from his hands to sit on his heels. He stared down at your body, gaze zeroing in on where his cock was buried in your cunt. Licking his lips, he pinned your knees open and began to fuck you faster. His bangs stuck to his forehead as he began to sweat in exertion.

You gasped, whimpering his name as the pleasure began to mount to overwhelming levels. He didn't pause or slow, keeping his eyes on the way your cunt gushed around him — soaking his cock as you swallowed every inch of him. You were tight, spasming and clenching around him as you got closer and closer to your high.

Yoongi groaned, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick the pad of the digit, slicking it up, before pressing it against your clit. You cried out his name, desperately reaching down to circle his wrist with your hand as he began to circle your sensitive bud.

"Yoongi I—"

"Let it go," He whispered, his free hand reaching up to cup your breast all the while he didn't cease fucking his cock into you. "Come for me, darling."

The pet name set you off and suddenly you were arching beneath him. Crying out his name you tossed your head back, trembling and clenching violently around his cock as he continued to fuck you through it.

"Good girl," He cooed, removing his thumb from your clit. "So good coming for me...around my cock...fuck..." He trailed off, muttering to himself and whispering praises towards you.

You went lax against the bed, eyes fluttering as you watched him reach his own high. His cum was hot as he spilled into you, hips stuttering before burying completely into you. His cock throbbed in time to his orgasm, continuing to cum inside until it began to drip out of you.

He collapsed over you, kissing you softly as he pulled out. Your face burned hot when you felt your mixed fluids gush past your still clenching walls.

"Just rest," He cooed, pressing his lips against your forehead.

The last thing you saw was his serene smile and sparkling eyes.

Cracking your eyes open, you groaned softly at how dry your mouth felt. Looking to the side, you naturally expected Yoongi to be curled up in his little ball as usual. However, your heart ached at the unexpectedly empty bed.

As you sat up in bed, you couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in the back of your mind telling you that you should check out the shrine. You slipped your clothes, which were scattered around the room, back onto your body and wrapped a shawl around your shoulders before venturing outside of your home.

There was distinct electricity in the air that had you shivering.

Yoongi was upset.

You hurried your footsteps to find your familiar, traveling a now-memorized path to the decrepit shrine, where you could feel his magic even more. Pushing the creaky old door open, you could see Yoongi crumpled down on his summoning spot with his face buried in his hands.

Loud, shoulder-shaking sobs tore from his lithe frame that absolutely broke your heart. You softly padded over to him, sinking to your knees beside his trembling form. When your hand touched his back, his whole body flinched before another sob tore from his lips.

"Yoongi..." You whispered, pausing when you heard the self-deprecating laugh escape his lips.

"I've been sleeping for so long," He choked out, finally pulling his hands away from face to see you see how his irises were glowing golden. He was so distraught mentally that he was letting his shifter magic seep through. "W-When you raised me again...I was so happy...I couldn't wait to see you again, ______."

"What do you mean...again?" You whispered, though he didn't seem to hear over his little sniffles.

"I love you so damn much but you don't even know how much you love me back," He growled, slamming his fist into the floor so hard you feared that maybe he would be able to break through with a single punch. "You don't realize...that we're made for each other," He spat.

"Yoongi, what are you talking about?" You asked, taking the hand he had punched the floor with into yours, the buzz of his magic coursing through the contact and making you tremble. He sat back on his heels, meeting your eyes and you realized that they were no longer glowing.

"You're my soulmate, ______," He whispered, scooting closer to you on his knees to take your face in his hands. "I'm your soulmate."

"What are you saying?" You shook your head but didn't brush his touch off. "Soulmates don't exist."

"They do," He insisted, moving one of his hands from your cheek to your chest, above your heart. "Our souls are intertwined — connected."

"How do you know that?" You pressed, locking eyes with him.

"You're the reincarnation of a witch named Circe," He explained, slowly taking his hands off of you as he took a deep, shuddering breath as if they memories physically pained him. "You-She died 3 centuries ago and I alongside her."

"That long?"

"I don't know why it took so long for you to come back but..." He once again cupped your cheeks and brought your face closer to his. Instead of the sadness you expected to see in them, you saw hopefulness and happiness. "You're here and...I can hold you again...I missed you so much..."

Something incredible happened when your lips met; you could see everything you couldn't before.

Inside you, you knew that everything he said was true and as you shared a kiss inside the shrine, you remembered everything from your life as Circe.

"Sweetheart," Your father uttered, a kind smile on his face. "You're 12 now...and it's been a custom for so long that at this age—"

"I'm getting my familiar?!" You shrieked, making your mother chuckle.

"Always a smart cookie," She praised, patting your hair softly.

"Yes, darling," Your father grinned. "As you know, being a witch, you're born with a creature attached to your soul, right?"

"Yes," You agreed, letting him take your hand and lead you to sit on a chair — it was made of stone and freezing cold but you were used to it.

"Do you remember what we have to do to raise it?" He quizzed, grabbing a bowl he had already set out in advance.

"You need nightshade, eye of newt, yew...a lock of hair and something infused with my magic!" You replied, grinning when he patted your head in praise. "But I don't have anything infused with magic..."

You weren't yet old enough to truly channel your magic like seasoned witches could. You were still learning the ins and outs of being a witch after all.

"Don't worry about that," You father replied, opening a glass cabinet to pull out a rose petal that seemed to glow purple. "When you were a baby, we had a dash of magic pulled so we could do this."

"We always think ahead," Your mother mused from behind you as if she were praising themselves.

"Now," Your father took a small pair of scissors, taking a chunk of your hair and cleanly cutting through it. "That should do it."

You watched with rapt attention as he placed your hair in with the glowing petal. Easily pouring in a vibrant red liquid that didn't have a label on it like the other ingredients; you assumed it was the nightshade, eye of newt, and yew mixture.

"Stand here, darling," You mother urged, waving you over to a spot marked with a sigil.

You did as you were told, standing in the center of it as your father crushed and mixed the ingredients in the bowl. Finally, he brought it over to you and placed the bowl in your hands.

"All you have to do is drink this," He uttered, stepping back away from you as he held your mother's hand.

The ingredients in the bowl melted into some soup-looking concoction that swirled red with the liquid and purple with your magic. You brought the lip of the bowl to your lips and titled it back — swallowing down the bitter mixture.

It burned once you swallowed it, making you drop the bowl in shock. You gripped your stomach and whined, flinching when the sigil beneath your feet began to vibrantly emanate a purple light.

It was still, terrifyingly silent for a beat before flames exploded from beneath you. The sigil was scorched — completely gone as you were surrounded by a wall of fire.

It was hot and you were scared you would get burned but even with the close proximity of the flames, not even your hair was singed.

Then, suddenly, there was another person within the circle of fire with you.

It was a boy your age, about an inch taller than you with pale skin and black hair. His eyes were blank as he regarded you.

"What is my name?" He asked, voice so soft that you almost missed it over the roar of flames around you.

"N-Name? I-I don't know!" You repeated, watching as the flames licked against his skin. "Y-You'll get burned!"

Even against your warning, at the flames touched the skin of his arms, he didn't flinch of move away.

"My name." He shouted now, voice stronger than any child you'd ever heard. It made you flinch when he narrowed his eyes at you. "You have to think. You know my name."

"No I don't! I don't know who you are!" You shrieked, growing panicked as the flames began to close in on your two. They were almost enveloping the boy and you began to tremble. His skin began to turn an inhuman red — human nails turning to black talons.

"You have to say it!" He roared, the flames finally covering him. He disappeared within the fire — an ear-piercing shriek following it.

"Y-Yoongi!" You cried, the name bubbling past your lips without you even realizing it.

All at once it was still.

There was no fire. The heat had vanished.

You were trembling as your parents watched on with proud smiles. Movement from below you caught your eye and you were shocked to see the boy kneeling at your feet.

"Yoongi!" You cried, watching as your familiar threw the spell book to the ground with a violent thud. "Why did you do that?!"

"How were you born to such powerful witches but you can't even cast a simple resurrection spell?!" He growled, jaw clenched in his anger as he glared at you.

"It's not a simple spell, Yoongi!" You argued. "It's one of the most difficult spells for a witch to cast!"

"You can't do anything right," He snapped, making you flinch. "You might as well give up on being a witch if you can't cast this spell."

"Yoongi!" You gasped, crossing your arms over your chest. "You're being mean, you know."

He scoffed, leaning back against the tree. "I'm being mean? You need to grow up."

"Yoongi," You muttered, nibbling on your lip as he began to walk away. Before he could get far, you grabbed his arm. "Where are you going?"

"Well I figure if I leave now I might be able to find a less pathetic witch than you to be attached to!" He snapped, shoving you to the ground before vanishing from sight before your eyes.

You knew it was impossible for him to do such a thing, but the prospect of him leaving you was painful. He'd been a constant in your life for over 4 years and his insults made your eyes sting with tears.

Holding your tears back, you packed up your belongings from the spell and made your way back home. A year ago, you'd been given a little house to live in away from your parents — a tradition for all witches who turn 15.

Yoongi naturally lived with you but when you got inside, he was nowhere to be found.

You allowed yourself to cry as you put the ingredients up and placed your spellbook back in its rightful place on the shelf. Sitting on your bed, you swiped at your eyes in an effort to stop crying.

It was useless.

Curling up on your bed, you hugged your pillow that was practically stained with his smoky scent — a very predictable smell to come off a Phoenix, you had mused. It had made him laugh and it felt so nice to make him laugh.

Your house was empty and still without his presence. You wondered where he was and you hoped he was safe.

It was a stupid wish considering he was an immortal creature made of pure magic. No mortal would be able to take him down.

It still didn't stop you from worrying.

The smell of smoke became stronger suddenly and you knew Yoongi had returned. You sniffled, sitting up to greet him regardless of the way he'd hurt your feelings.

His eyes were soft when they met yours, a whisper of your name falling from his lips.

"Welcome home," You recited your usual greeting for when he came home after you.

"I'm sorry," He whispered, kneeling on the floor beside your bed. He took your hand in his and laid it upon his hair as he nestled his head onto your lap. "I shouldn't have lost my temper like that. There was no reason for me to insult you or push you like I did."

"It's okay, Yoongi," You sniffled, carding your fingers through his soft hair. "I know you didn't mean it."

Similar incidents had happened before — though he'd never shoved you before. Ever since you moved in together, he'd grown more on edge and aggressive in his teachings.

"I didn't but it still doesn't make it okay," He whispered. "It's just...we only have a short amount of time before we have to begin our travels and I'm worried about you."

"Why?" You asked, moving his bangs from his eyes.

"If you're not powerful enough to protect yourself...when I'm not with you..." He sighed, brows furrowing. "Then anything could happen to you."

"You're just worried that if I die, you die," You joked, trying to break the tension.

"That's not it at all," He gasped, sitting up straighter on his knees. "You will always be more important than me."

His words brought a smile to your face and you couldn't help but wrap your arms around his shoulders in a tight hug.

You groaned, kicking a rock as you walked along the dirt path. It was hot — painfully so. The two of you had been on the move traveling for 3 months and summer was in full swing.

Glancing at Yoongi, you noticed the beads of sweat along his brow and you wondered how it felt to be a creature of fire in the summer heat. Suddenly, your own pain didn't seem so bad.

"There's a stream up ahead," You said, making him look down at you.

He'd grown several inches taller than you since you turned 18 — he was also developing very...attractive features. His eyes were sharper, almost like a cat and his lips were a soft, pink color that look delightfully soft against his pale complexion. His shoulders had broadened and he’d developed a sharper jawline but still retained a cute amount of cheek fat that made him look youthful.

"So?" He chuckled, glancing down at you with a crooked grin.

"Soooo...we should take a break and cool off, don't you think?" You raised a brow, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"You phrase it like a question but something tells me it isn't," He chuckled, easily seeing through you. You'd been together for 6 years and he grew to be able to read you like a book.

"Let's go," You grabbed his wrist and veered off the bath and walk through an overgrown path.

Before long, the distant sound of the stream grew louder and you could have cried at the sight of beautiful running water.

It was a much needed break, you sighed in relief as your sore feet met the cool water. Yoongi walked along the shoreline, muttering something about catching some fish for dinner. You were thankful to have Yoongi — he easily took care of you by catching wild food and cooking it with his fire incredible abilities.

He was a blessing, truly.

There were footsteps from behind you and you turned to look over your shoulder as you realized Yoongi couldn't have come from that direction.

"Hey!" You shouted, watching as two strange men walked up to your belongings.

One picked up your bag and began sifting through it. They completely ignored you, even as you launched out of the water to snatch your bag away.

"Hey now," The taller of the two grinned. "Why don't you just make things easy and let us have your stuff. It'll be a lot easier than having to kill you."

"Why, you—"

"You know what?" The other man, a blonde, snickered. "I think we should take her and bring her back. She'd fetch a pretty price on the market."

Your heart stuttered in your chest at the mention of the market. It was a black market in the region you’d entered — people being sold as slaves was commonplace.

"Y-You can have my bag..." You uttered, preferring if they took your stuff instead of kidnapping you.

"I don't think you have a choice now, little girl," You cried out at the violent grip on your arm as he began to drag you away from the shore.

All defensive spells and tricks you'd learned flew out the window in the face of real danger. It was the first time you'd come face to face with a threat that wasn't a wild animal and you were scared.

"Yoongi!" You shrieked, summoning your familiar immediately.

"What the—"

A single eruption of fire, red tinged with the purple of your infused magic, and the two men were gone. Nothing but two piles of ash were left in their wake.

"Are you okay?" He breathed, eyes wide with panic, grabbing your shoulders to turn you to look at him. "Are you hurt?"

"No..." You felt your body relax as he pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

Neither of you said a word as he held you, his head resting atop yours.

He was thankful you'd learned to summon him hands-free like that because, although he wouldn't tell you, if you hadn't he would have been much too far to get to you in time.

It was the first time he'd saved you and he never wanted to listen to your fearful cry of his name again.

"It's lopsided," You muttered, fighting the laugh bubbling up inside you as you stared at the cake Yoongi had made you.

"Listen!" He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "I did my best! And it tastes wonderful, thank you very much. The appearance doesn't matter."

"Oh Yoongi," You finally let your laugh free. "I think it's cute. I appreciate you making me a cake."

"Well it's the first birthday we're spending here," He gestured around the little cabin the two of you settled in. "So, I figured we should celebrate."

"I think it was a great idea," You agreed, using the knife he'd brought along to cut a piece for yourself and for Yoongi.

Though he didn't need to eat since he was an immortal being, he genuinely was still a glutton. He loved food, especially sweets which you found cute.

"This is good!" You groaned as you took your first bite. "Where'd you learn to make this?"

"I asked that traveling lady who stopped by last week."

"You're so cute," You giggled, finishing your slice of cake along with him.

He hummed, eyes following you as you began to get ready for bed.

He whispered your name and you paused in fluffing the pillows to look at him. You jumped when you realized he was standing in front of you suddenly.

"What is it, Yoongi?" You asked, leaning into his touch as he cupped your cheek.

His eyes were dark as usual but there was a gentle smile on his lips. You reached up to cup his hand against your cheek as he slowly began to lean in closer to you. He paused for a second, your lips almost touching to make sure you didn't want to move away.

When you didn't, he closed the gap and you shared a sweet kiss with him.

Your first kiss.

You knew you loved Yoongi long before you found yourself laid out bare beneath him. His lips were soft as he trailed kisses along any and all skin he could access.

"No one's ever touched you like this," He whispered, mostly to himself. "Or seen you like this."

"J-Just you, Yoongi," You whispered, arching your back when he wrapped his lips around your nipple.

He hummed, hand sliding between your thighs to graze over your wet slit.

"Ah Yoon— " You whimpered, clutching desperately at his shoulders through the feather-light stimulation.

"Does that feel good?" He asked, voice muffled as he switched to mouth at your other nipple. The cool air on you now neglected bud caused it to harden and peak.

You didn't get the opportunity to reply, only a broken whimper escaping your lips when his deft fingers found your clit hardened and swelling under your arousal. His fingers were hot and rough but his touch was gentle and soothing.

"Are you ready for my fingers, sweetheart?" He asked, nosing softly against your cheek to press a kiss against the heated flesh.

"J-Just one..." You whispered, biting your lip nervously when his middle finger was positioned at your entrance, ready to enter you.

"You ever touched yourself here, baby?" He asked suddenly, running the digit through your folds to get it nice and wet with your juices.

"Wh-When would I ever have time for that?" You grumbled, feeling your thighs tremble when he began to circle your clit again. "I-I'm literally always you..."

Yoongi chuckled at that, a dark almost possessive sound. "True. I think it's better that way."

"What do you mean?" You breathed, meeting his dark gaze.

There was a pregnant pause, a drawn out stillness between the two of you. You were breathing heavily, wound up from the teasing he'd been giving you.

Then, a cock smirk fell over his swollen lips and you were suddenly being filled his his middle finger. Your mouth fell open and you gasped — the feeling foreign and strange to your virgin body.

"Because I'm the only one allowed to touch you like this now," He whispered, leaning over your body as he slowly fucked his finger in and out of you. "Not even you will be able to make yourself feel like I can."

He met your lips in a heated kiss, your arms wrapping around his shoulders to hold his body close against yours. Your entrance was stretched a bit more when he introduced his ring finger. It wasn't uncomfortable like you'd feared, there was a little sting but when he crooked his fingers just right your back arched.

"Ah...right there?" He asked, grinning before leaning down to nip at one of your nipples.

"Yoongi!" You cried, clawing at the soft blanket beneath your body. "I-I need...I want...please."

"What is it?" He asked, voice soft and comforting when he sensed your rising panic.

Everything was so new for you — the sensations and needs you felt. It excited him like nothing else ever has. He wanted to be the one to give you everything you wanted — wanted to be the first and only person to make you feel good.

"I-I don't...know..." You choked out, mindlessly grinding your hips down in search of more stimulation. It felt like you were teetering on the edge of something — needing a little push to fall apart in pleasure.

"I've got you, sweetheart," He cooed, resting on his forearm above your head as he began to drill those two fingers into your clenching cunt. "I know what you need."

You abandoned your hold on the blanket to cling to him. He pecked your lips, holding your gaze as he introduced a third finger. The stretch was a bit more painful than the last but it quickly and easily faded when his thumb began to grind against your sensitive bud.

"Yoon, I— " You felt breathless, eyes wide but unseeing at you gazed up at Yoongi.

"Cum for me," He growled, fingers pounding into you at just the right angle to hit your g-spot perfectly in time to the cruel circles he made against your clit. "Come on, sweetheart. Let it go for me."

Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your walls clamping tight around Yoongi's fingers until he had to stop — simply grinding his digits up against that spot inside you as you came. You clung to him, holding him tightly against your body, his soft praises keeping you grounded through the waves of new, untold pleasure he forced your body to ride through. Finally, you were left a weak, spent mess beneath him. His fingers slowed, working you down from the high as you walls continued to spasm randomly.

Finally, he pulled his fingers from your cunt and held them up. They glistened beneath the meager candle light, coated with your cum and soaked with your arousal. You covered your face in embarrassment when he slid those very fingers into his mouth with a moan.

His tongue swirled around every centimeter, savoring your sweet taste.

Mindlessly, his free hand found its way to his cock. You felt yourself clench pathetically at the sight of his fist wrapped around his thick cock — jerking himself off as he cleaned his fingers of your cum. With a final moan, he pulled his fingers away and bit his lip as he looked down at you.

"Do you still want to?" He asked, abandoning his grip on his cock to grip your hips.

"Please, Yoongi...I want you," You whispered, spreading your legs further to fit his body back comfortably between them.

"I love you so much, ______," He whispered, lowering his head to kiss you.

It was a soft, chaste kiss despite the situation you were both in. Your heart fluttered at his confession, feeling tears prick at your eyes with a smile.

"Will it...hurt?" You asked suddenly, feeling the wet tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

The size difference was daunting, you could tell without even looking. You could feel it. He was thicker than his 3 fingers and definitely longer — he would no doubt kiss the deepest parts of you.

"I'll make sure it doesn't," He whispered, running his fingers down your sides causing goosebumps to rise along the skin.

You leaned up to kiss him again before falling flat against the bed — leaving your body open and vulnerable for anything he wanted to do. Your explicit trust in him made his heart race and he bit his lip to hold back the stinging of tears in his eyes.

He sat back on his heels, gripping his cock in a trembling hand to slide the head up and down your folds slicking himself up with your juices. He held back a moan when you trembled every time he brushed over your sensitive clit.

Holding his breath, he began to push into your entrance. Your previous orgasm had allowed your walls to relax but you began to tense up as he tried to push inside.

"You have to relax, ______," He whispered, prodding the tip against your entrance.

You whimpered, shaking your head. "I c-can't."

"Yes you can," He whispered, thumb finding your clit and circling it. "Let me in, sweetheart."

You sighed, head falling back as he rubbed your bud, pleasure mounting once more. Without you realizing, you melted against the blanket — his name lingering against your lips.

Suddenly, he surged forward and sunk half of his cock inside your tight walls. There was a sting, as you expected, but as he continued to push forward until his cock was sheathed completely — the discomfort vanished.

The two of you were still, your walls spasming around him as he leaned forward to kiss you again. You'd never get tired of feeling his lips on yours and coupled with the way he was filling you — it was addictive.

He pulled back, just the head left stretching you open, before he sunk back inside. You were so wet that you could hear it but you didn't have it in your to be embarrassed. The way he was looking at you, dark eyes filled with lust and love, you didn't feel an ounce of shame in your body.

"Feel so...good," He grunted, beginning to fuck you in earnest while keeping his pace gentle for your sake.

"I-I...I want more, please Yoongi," You softly begged, breathless from the way he stretched you so deliciously.

"Yeah?" He asked, a scoff escaping him in a huff. "I don't think you're ready, baby."

"I am! Please!" You whined, arching your back and grinding your hips against him. The movements were inexperienced but still drew a moan from him.

"No, darling," He whispered, holding your hips down as he continued the same pace. "You can't handle that yet."

His tone left no room for argument and even if one was building, it died at your lips when he began circling your clit again.

"Yoon..." You breathed, clinging to the blanket beneath you again.

"Come for me," He whispered, lips brushing against yours as your body suddenly stilled.

He felt you come, walls tightening around his cock. He continued to work you through your high while grinding against you. The way your back arched and you cried out his name as you lost yourself over his cock was enough to send him over the edge — no matter how hard he tried to hold it back.

You gasped feeling the gush of heat inside you. He moaned your name, burying his face in your neck as his cock throbbed against your walls. He abandoned working your clit when you whimpered and gripped his wrist — the dual feelings of him touching the sensitive bud and coming deep inside you too much for you to handle.

Slowly, when both your bodies calmed down, he pulled out. His cum gushed out of you and you whimpered — embarrassed but he just smiled.

"You're mine now," He cooed, laying beside you to pull your body close to him.

"I love you Yoon..." You whispered, kissing his jaw softly, making him smile.

"I love you too," He replied, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

Breaking through the wall of overgrown shrubbery, some of the twigs scraping your arms on the way. You didn't pay any attention to it, however, as you were immediately taken in by the sight in front of you.

It was some sort of temple, it looked old and was obviously not cared for or in use for anyone anymore.

Yoongi moved in front of you, shielding you from whatever possible threats could come from the abandoned place.

"Hey, what a strange place," You whispered, following Yoongi into the decrepit, old shrine. "What do you think?"

"I think it'd be a good place to hole up," Yoongi replied, moving around the dusty pieces of furniture. "We can put up some warding spells and hide out."

"Good idea," You agreed, placing your bag on an old table.

Yoongi walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your cheek. "We'll be okay. If we can hide long enough, they won't be able to find us."

"I hope you're right," You sighed.

"I think it'd be something to look into, Yoongi," You said, sighing when he ignored you. "Yoo—"

"No. There's no reason to do it now," He snapped, his back to you. "You're only 24, a spell like this shouldn't be performed until you're in your 50s!"

"But things are different now, Yoongi!" You cried. "They're rounding up all the witches and putting them to death. I'm at risk now and I want it done before it's too late!"

"Stop talking like you're going to die!" He shouted, making you flinch as his voice echoed off the stone walls.

"It's always a possibility—"

"No," He snapped. "I'll protect you. I've done it all our lives and I'm not about to fail now."

"Yoongi..." You whispered, standing up to wrap your arms around him from behind. "Please..."

You felt him sigh as his shoulders went lax. He turned in your grip and looked down at you, His eyes were shining with tears as he leaned down to kiss you.

"Thank you," You whispered against his lips.

That was when you performed the spell; locking away a piece of his power, his soul, there in the temple inside your spell book. Only someone who shared your magic signature would be able to see the true shrine — the one you and Yoongi lived in, rather than the one that would appear for others.

And only someone who's soul would be connected to Yoongi's could release him once you died.

It was only a year later, in the bitter cold of winter, that your fears came to fruition. You'd been out collecting wild foods as Yoongi hunted. The two of you did such work at night to avoid being detected as best you could.

You hadn't seem the dark figures stalking you like wolves until it was too late.

All it took was one moment for everything to crumble. A knife to your heart and you were falling to the freezing snow.

The pure white became stained with the red of your blood. Above you, the night sky was lit brightly with the light of the moon and the stars. You and Yoongi loved clear nights like that.

It took everything in your power to whisper his name — the air fogging up with your breath as you uttered it.

The name of the man you loved — the man who would forever be etched into your very soul would be the very last thing you said.

He had felt it long before you had summoned him — your draining spirit. But seeing you on the ground, eyes desperately searching for him broke him.

He fell to his knees, finally coming into your line of sight. He couldn't help the sob that tore past his lips when, despite your situation, you smiled.

You had half expected you wouldn't be able to summon him with your diminishing life force. But being able to see him in your final moments was all you could ask for, truly. Although his eyes weren't filled with the vibrant happiness you wanted to see, they were the eyes you loved regardless.

He cupped your cold cheek, his own body still emanating heat. He leaned down, pressing his lips against yours and held there, just kissing you, even after he felt your soul leave.

The gaping emptiness left inside him was painful, the bitter reminder that he had let you die. He had failed to protect you and now he had to face his punishment.

It wasn't much of a punishment, after all he didn't want to live in a world without you.

He picked up your body, limp and cold, before making the short trek to your home — the shrine.

All around him, he could feel your magic from the wards you'd put up. Despite that, it was disembodied and felt fake without your soul there to feed them.

He knelt beside your body as his skin began to flake off and turn to ash. He held onto your hand for as long as he could until his hands turned to ash.

He kept his eyes on your beautiful face until he finally disintegrated — a charred stain on the floor beside your body. The last thing he whispered were from his very soul uttering words of love for you.

Around him, as Yoongi's soul too vanished, the lively home once created within the shrine reverted back to a hollow decrepit place that would only be seen for the next 3 centuries.

Until your soul finally made it back to him.

Pulling back, you met his eyes, finding unrestrained fire and love and...lust swimming inside them. He seemed to notice the change in you; he reached up and cupped your jaw to move in for another kiss.

His lips were soft and warm, that lovely smoky scent enveloping you as he held you close to him.

Although the memory of the first time you were with him was burned into your memory -- you couldn't forget the other ways he held you. With rough hands and filthy words whispered in your ear.

"Please Yoongi," You whispered, reaching down to cup his hard length in the material of his pants. "I want you please."

"Yeah?" He grinned, lips turning from soft to rough as he kissed you again.

"Show me that I'm yours again, please," You begged, moaning when he suddenly pinned you to the hard floor.

He growled, pushing the hem of your dress up roughly to expose the panties you wore beneath. He didn't hesitate in tearing them down your legs and pinning your thighs open.

"So pretty for me," He groaned, eyeing your wet slit spread open for his greedy gaze. "All mine, right? Tell me."

"All yours, Yoongi, only yours!" You cried out when he dipped down and ran his tongue over your clit to taste the creaming juices you gushed at being in such an exposed position.

He knew exactly what to do to make you feel good, swirling his tongue over your clit until you were tugging at his hair. You felt your cunt clench when he suddenly spat against your entrance.

"Can't wait, I need you so fucking bad," He whispered, pulling his cock from the confines of his pants.

He slapped the head of himself against your clit, making your hips jump. Then he finally sunk into you to the hilt with a groan of your name.

Having him inside you after remembering everything was unlike anything you'd experienced in your life. He felt so good, stretching you perfectly, and grinding against your g-spot to make you whine.

He loved the noises you made and he couldn't help fucking into you harshly from the get-go.

"Yoongi! Harder!" You cried, making him chuckle.

"Yeah? Want it harder?" He smirked, hooking your knees over his arms to leave you completely open to him. "I'll fucking ruin you, sweetheart."

The words made you clench him tightly and he groaned. The wet sound of his cock sinking into you mingled with your moans as he doubled his pace. His hips slapped against yours harshly — pain blossoming alongside the pleasure when his cock kissed your cervix.

Your eyes rolled back, body spasming under the onslaught of pleasure.

"'M gonna...cum..." You sobbed, reaching down to circle your clit.

"That's it baby," He whispered. "Get yourself off for me. I'm so close."

Suddenly, he froze balls deep inside you. His cock throbbed for several long seconds before he groaned and came inside you. The rush of heat oh so familiar that it set you off as well. You came, clenching and trembling around his cock as he continued to spill his load. Finally, he pulled out — making you whine and clench once more.

"Oh? You still want to cum?" He asked suddenly, knowing by the way you continued to mindlessly circle your clit with trembling fingers.

"Please Yoongi," You begged, gasping when he replaced your fingers with his own.

They were rough, circling and grinding against the bud until you were arching once again.

His cum gushed out of you, soiling his fingers as he continued to work you through the high and aftershocks.

You grabbed his wrist, bringing those cum-soaked fingers to your lips to envelop them and swallow the mess down. He sighed, yanking his fingers from your mouth to press his lips against yours.

The kiss went from heated and lust-filled to loving and soft in the matter of moments. Pulling away, he gave you his familiar gummy smile before sitting up. He tucked his softening cock back in his pants and smoothing your dress back down properly. Your panties were torn from when he had yanked them off of you — leaving them of no use.

"Should we go home?" He asked, standing up and taking your hand. Your legs shook a little as you put weight back on them.

"I think so," You smiled, lacing your fingers between his.

The two of you left the shrine, the wards and sigils that had been put there by Circe glowing brighter now that your power was connected with your old soul.

Yoongi smiled, tugging you down the familiar path — talking happily about what he wanted to eat for dinner.

You couldn't help but giggle along with him, your heart fluttering endlessly in your chest.

Even though so much time had passed, as Yoongi's nose wrinkled in the wake of his grin, you were reminded that he hadn't changed one bit.

You vowed that even after this life, you would always return to him. You never wanted to be the source of his tears. You couldn't even imagine how he must have felt knowing you didn't remember him. Didn't remember the feeling of his lips against yours, the memories that must have haunted him every time he looked at you -- knowing you didn't share them anymore.

Even now, you could feel his pain; remnants of your last death still weighing heavily on his mind. You squeezed his hand, pausing to pick a wild flower that bloomed within the green grass.

Handing it to him, he smiled. His eyes sparkled with unshed tears — making your heart ache. He smoothed your hair behind your ear, placing the flower there and took your hand again.

As he looked on, you kept your eyes on his side profile.

You loved him and you never wanted to forget the feeling of his love again.

© httpjeon 2019. do not repost or modify.

[imomomi]

Warnings: Some violence towards the end.

Word Count: 1,535

         “Kita-san,” you called, dismissing the rest of your advisors. Two lone servants remained in the room, both women. He nodded towards them, a small smile building at the shock one of the women displayed. Servants, he found, often worked the hardest and were given little praise for it. Honest work would only keep someone honest if it was rewarded. He settles the box on the table, ignoring your curious glance for the moment.

           “I apologize for interrupting you,” he started. You shook away his concerns, reshuffling the papers you held in your hands. He caught sight of the few on top, bearing the emperor’s seal and wondered just how deeply your relationship with the man went. What could motivate their emperor to save a single life?

           “It’s nothing to concern yourself over, Kita-san. I’m happy to be rid of them,” you said. Your smile felt more genuine than it had yesterday. “My brother told me that you refused our accommodations.”

           “You don’t need to waste such luxuries on us,” he said. Your smile faltered slightly, and you looked away from him. Had he said the wrong thing?

           “When I was younger, Nobuko would sleep in my room. He hated being alone after our parents died…if it’s anything like that, I understand the desire to stay with the people you’re familiar with.”

           “You’re close with your brother?” he asked. He had inferred as much yesterday, but hearing you speak now, he realized that you were capable of great affection. The same fondness that you carried for the people you ruled over was echoed in your family. It reminded him so much of his grandmother, that he had to force his gaze away to temper the uncomfortable tightness in his chest.

           “Nobuko is my best and only friend. He might resent being stuck here with me, but I’m glad he is.”

           “How long has it been since you left the compound?”

           “The day before the attack, I went to the markets. I wasn’t gravely injured, only some bruises, but I preferred the situation kept private.”

           “Are you scared?”

           “Yes,” you answered and shifted your gaze to look at him directly. “I don’t want to die…but I also want peace at whatever price it comes.”

           “Even if it’s your own life?”

           “Kyoto will be safe. Nobuko is smart and kind where I’m not…sometimes, I think that the world would be a little better had he been made Clan Head.”

           He didn’t answer you. Regret was something Kita had trouble understanding. If you tried your hardest, with all the skills and determination you had, then what was there left to regret? He often found that people allowed their doubts to weigh down their abilities.

           “What’s it like in Hyōgo?”

           “Our estate overlooks Hyōgo’s rice fields. In the morning the sun shines over the grass and trees, hitting the dew so that everything looks as if it were riddled with diamonds…I wouldn’t trade it for the world,” he admitted. There was a hint of envy in your gaze, but it passes quickly. Your eyes narrowed in his direction.

           “Are you married, Kita-san?” you asked. The unexpected question has him choking and a laugh burst from your mouth, so loudly it startled one of the servants. You stopped almost immediately and cleared your throat. His neck feels tight and itchy, the way it always does when he’s caught in an uncomfortable position. These are the types of situations that Suna thrived in. A mix of laziness and cunning lending him the right words and gestures to play the game of seduction. He didn’t think it was your intention to seduce him. The suitors that came to your halls had more than Kita ever would, but you seemed curious, as if he were a puzzle to solve. It troubled him. If you wanted to dig, their mission would be jeopardized.

           “No,” he answered curtly, “I have no need for a wife.”

           “I envy men for having the ease to choose between what they need and want. If I am lucky enough to be reborn, I think I should like to be a man.” Your words were softly spoken, barely louder than a whisper, but filled with a yearning that Kita could not comprehend. You had everything and still wanted more.

         “Your servants,” he muttered, glancing again at the two women. The forgotten box rustled before them.

         “Leave,” you ordered sharply. The women moved quickly, bowing low as they left the room. Kita circled the table, coming to a stop by your shoulder. He knew it was inappropriate, but his name had never been spoken in those types of rumors.

         “We found this messenger crow late at night,” said Kita. He pulled the top from the box housing the crow. Kita turned and noticed that you had not moved since the crow was unveiled. A thousand thoughts crossed his mind at once. Did you know? Was it a spy or a message from another prefecture? Why had the emperor moved his hand to protect one woman? How far would this rebellion go? What kind of ruler were you?

         As a child, he’d often prayed to the gods for peace. They were words he repeated because he’d heard his grandmother say them. His belief mattered little, but he liked the steadiness that came with visiting a temple. Did you pray for the same? Or had a rebellion risen to overthrow a tyrant? The files he received told him that you were kind, benevolent, and gentle. Words told him nothing of your actual temperament.

         “That bird has been coming for months,” you said, turning to him with sharp eyes.

         “Then you have housed a spy for months,” he answered. He stood, the silk of his kimono flowing like water around him.

         “A crow could come from anywhere.”

         “It could,” he agreed. You followed as he paced back and forth. It was rare that they worked with their client directly and the echo of your footsteps behind him felt like a cage. He needed room to move without you watching, but trust was not something he had.

         Kita stopped.

         “Whatever you wish to know, I will tell you. But, do not ask who sent me or why,” he said.

       “Why are you walking through my home as if you have lived here all your life?”

         “I had a map. I know every room in this compound, as do my men,” he answered. His voice rang with sincerity, no hint of a lie lingered in his face. You hesitated, unsure of what to do or say when met with the truth.

         “Are you here to harm me?” you asked.

         “No,” he paused, weighing his words and added, “not unless you give me reason to.”

         “I don’t trust you,” you admitted, sighing heavily, “I want your men gone. I want this whole thing to end, but I cannot change the fact that you’re here. Refusing your help when you offer it freely would be foolish.” You turned and looked at him directly. It was hard to be intimidating when you were forced to wear heavy silks and stood shorter than most men, but years of fending off political attacks had given you a clarity that few had. In the end, what happened would happen. The only thing you could control was your own actions.

         “If you betray me or my clan, I will hunt you to Jigoku and back,” you warned. The threat hung heavy in the air. Kita bowed his head, acknowledging its severity.

         “You have my word that we are here to help,” he said. “There is a woman we wish to speak to. A servant in your household.”

         “A suspected traitor,” you mused.

         “Yes. If it’s true…”

         “The penalty for treason is death.”

         “You would kill her?”

         “I assume that’s your job. Take what information you can and deal with her quietly.”

         “She should be sent to Hyogo as a prisoner. A death would be suspicious.”

         “I don’t give people out as gifts, Kita-san,” you said. Your lips pursed tightly and he felt your offense hanging in the air between them. He hadn’t meant to imply anything, but before he could apologize, you moved forward, colder than before and more aggressively. Your hand caressed the rounded belly of the crow, a finger stroking its head softly. In a move so swift, he would have missed it had he blinked, your fingers twisted around the bird’s neck and pulled tightly. The crunch of bones filled the air.

         “That is what we do to traitors in Kyoto,” you said, blankly. “Do with the girl what you wish, but if she betrayed me or my family, I want her dead.”

         You walked away, black feathers following your path as you shook away the last remnants of the crow from your person. Kita watched them fall, his stomach twisting with both fear and respect. People who could stomach death that easily were far and few between. Another part of you had been unveiled and slid into his mind the way a key unlocked a door, reminding him that there were things about himself that he didn’t know. The memory of your fingers, twisting and pulling, go through him like wine.

Masterlist

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[moonlit-jeno]

love sick

Chapter 6- Renjun

pairing: nct dream ‘00 line + reader

genre/warnings: angst, mild gore (i literally mention the word blood once)

words: 2.4k

summary: If Renjun were in the right headspace, he would know that something is off.

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It’s not like Renjun expects you to suddenly start acting like you’re attached at the hip, but he’s not really prepared for you to start actively avoiding him. He would prefer something in the middle if he’s being honest. Somewhere along the lines of ‘you poured me coffee and now to show my appreciation I will kiss your cheek.’

You’re at the counter pouring yourself a glass of water when Renjun walks up, wrapping his arms around you from behind. He goes to place a kiss to the top of your head but you jump and his nose explodes with pain. Renjun lets go of you and you successfully duck away from him.

“Ow, fuck. You’ve got a really hard head.” Renjun winces and holds his nose, thanking the heavens above that it isn’t bleeding. 

“Don’t sneak up on me.” Is all you say, glancing at him before opening the refrigerator and grabbing a cup of jello. Weird. Normally you’d be exploding with apologies.

Renjun furrows his eyebrows. “Aww, is someone a little scared?” He teases, reaching out to pinch your cheek. You swat his hand away.

“Can you not?” You sound pissed off, and you certainly look angry. Your response has him a little taken aback and Renjun retracts his hand, looking at you more carefully. 

You’re glaring at him and your jaw is clenched, but you also look a little bit shaky. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” You scoff, turning and walking away from him. Renjun watches you go, his jaw dropped open in disbelief. He’s still standing like that when Donghyuck walks in. 

He’s so out of it that he doesn’t even notice him, only being alerted of the other boys presence when Donghyuck walks up and screams in his ear. Renjun jumps, arms flailing as he instinctively tries to put Hyuck in a headlock. The younger just laughs, dancing away from him.

“Ah, Renjun,” Donghyuck shakes his head, tsking under his breath. “Gotta be alert, my man. Never know when someone’s gonna come up and getcha.”

Renjun laughs, still distracted by your odd behavior. “Yeah, sorry. I’m a little out of it.” Donghyuck picks up the kettle and shakes it, checking to see if there’s still water in it. There is. Satisfied, he puts it back on the stove. “Thinkin’ bout y/n?” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Yeah, actually.” Renjun laughs humorlessly. “How’d you know?” “I think it’s pretty fair to assume that she’s the cause of most of our distractions.” Hyuck responds, rummaging through the cabinet for the tea bags. He holds the box up. “Want a cup?” Donghyuck’s comment catches him off guard. “No, I’m okay. What do you mean she’s the cause of out distractions?” “Oh come on, I think you know what I mean.” Donghyuck wiggles his eyebrows once again and Renjun gets the urge to shave them off. He stares blankly in response. “Or maybe you don’t. What’d she do to capture the mind of the genius himself?” Renjun lets out a dramatic sigh. “I dunno, she just seems kind of off. Like she was in a super bad mood earlier.” Donghyuck starts to make his mug selection. “Oh, yeah. She was crying yesterday, so she’s probably still recovering from whatever had her so upset.” “She was crying yesterday? When?” “Man, I don’t know. Around when Jaemin made dinner?” Renjun’s mind mind goes into overdrive. That’s after they had their moment in the greenhouse. Shit. Was she crying because of him?

Renjun nods. “Huh. Shit.” “Why? Did you- oh fuck, I forgot to turn the stove on, damnit- did you do something?” Donghyuck asks.

“I don’t think so. I’m just wondering if she’s okay.” Donghyuck makes a sound of understanding. “I’m gonna go try to talk to her.” Renjun’s mind is running a million miles a second as he walks to your room, trying to work out what to say. Did you really regret hooking up with him that much? He didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do, right? He knocks lightly on your door, deciding to just walk in when you don’t respond. 

You turn, wide eyes hardening into a glare when you realize who it is. “You know that you’re supposed to wait after you knock.” “Yeah, sorry. Can I come in?” Renjun’s nerves take over and he laughs a little. You don’t.

“What do you want?” His laughter dies and he clears his throat, your icy tone leaving him with a bad feeling in his stomach. 

“Well, you seem kind of off so I just wanted to check in and see if you’re okay?” Renjun says, hovering unsurely in your doorway.

You roll your eyes, turning your focus to your nails. “You asked me that earlier and I said I was fine.” Renjun’s starting to get a little annoyed now. He feels his eye twitch and he wills himself to stay calm. “No, you asked me why I cared and then stormed off.”

“So why do you care?” You raise your eyebrow and Renjun swears if he sees another person raise their eyebrows at him they’re going to lose them.

“Well, I just thought that after all that time in the greenhouse that we-” You cut him off. “That we what? That we’re married now?” You laugh incredulously. “I met you what, a month ago? Two? We barely know each other, Renjun. I don’t need you watching over me like you care.” The words hit Renjun like a punch to the gut and he opens his mouth to argue before realizing that he has nothing to say. Poking his tongue into his cheek and nodding, he silently backs out of your room. He can’t even bring himself to slam your door.

He feels like crying, anger and frustration clawing at him. What do you mean you barely know him? Sure, you haven’t known each other for very long, but what about all the late nights you spent talking? All those times you sat in the greenhouse with him, reminiscing over childhood memories? It’s stupid, it’s so stupid that he’s letting himself get this worked up over it, but he can’t help it. Renjun debates going down to talk to Donghyuck about it, but he decides against it. It already sounds dumb to him, no doubt it’s going to sound even dumber to his best friend. He’s really not in the mood to be teased. Not knowing what else to do, Renjun turns and makes his way to the place that has recently become his safespace: the greenhouse.

Renjun runs his hand through his hair much too roughly as he storms towards the greenhouse, cursing at himself. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and grits his jaw, trying to relax himself as he enters the building.

He’s stuck in his own head, overanalyzing everything he’s said, everything hes done over the past day. Why can’t he think of what he did wrong?

It isn’t until he steps fully into the greenhouse that he realizes he’s not alone.

There’s a man kneeling in the dirt, pulling at one of the plants. Renjun watches as the guy inspects the plant, holding it in front of his face with his head tilted.

It’s not too late. Renjun hasn’t been noticed. He takes a step back. There’s a crunch.

The guys head snaps towards him.

He expects the guy to immediately launch himself at Renjun, rip his face off, tear him apart. But the man only looks at him, standing from his crouching position.

“Hello there.”

Zombies can’t talk, right?

“H-hello.” Renjun’s voice is shaky, barely audible. He wants to cry.

“Is this yours?” Renjun nods. “I’m sorry for the bother, but I was just so hungry”

If Renjun were in the right headspace, he would know that something is off. The guy’s too twitchy, hands shaking as he smiles much too intensely at Renjun. His eyes are a little bloodshot, and Renjun’s stomach twists as he realizes that his eyes are looking in two completely different directions.

“So, so hungry.” The eyes are completely vacant.

Slowly, he starts to back away. The guy doesn’t seem to notice. Anxiety wells up as he gets to the door. swallowing thickly as he turns the handle. He’s finding it hard to breathe, keeping his eyes locked on the guy as he slowly opens the door.  Nothing happens. He gets one foot out. The man doesn’t move. He opens the door wider.

The door creaks.

Clarity returns to the man’s eyes strikingly fast, and then he’s moving towards Renjun at full speed. Renjun watches in horror for a second too long, his body finally listening to his brain as he flees.

The door to the house is so close and yet it looks impossibly far. Renjun isn’t thinking logistics- he’s not thinking about how his friends are all in that house, how he’s leading a potential zombie to them. He’s just thinking that the house is safe, and right now he’s in the attack zone.

He risks a glance behind him as he gets to the door, and the man is right behind him, so close that he could grab Renjun with a reach of his arm. Renjun screams and launches himself up the three steps, his hand closing around the door handle. The stairs seem to be his saving grace, tripping the guy and sending him crashing to the ground. A hand closes around his ankle but Renjun manages to tear himself free, pulling the door open before slamming it shut behind him.

He collapses with his back against the door for a moment, panting, his life still flashing behind his eyes as he swallows down his vomit. It’s the feeling of the door rattling as the man throws himself against it that snaps Renjun into action.

“Fuck. Fuck! Y/N, Hyuck, fuckin- we have to leave right the fuck now!” He clicks the lock and scrambles to his feet, running through the house. “Jeno, Jaemin? Where are you, we need to fucking leave!”

The three boys are all in the kitchen, and Renjun would comment on the tension in the room if he wasn’t in such a frantic mode. Jaemin’s the only one sitting and he turns to look at the Renjun when he walks in. “What? Why?”

“Zombies, why the fuck else? Get y/n, get the keys, we need to go.” Jeno is already running off, screaming at the top of his lungs for you, and you appear a moment later looking dazed. Your eyes are puffy and you look absolutely murderous, but that look is replaced with fear as you take in their states.

You don’t question it as Renjun tells you you have to fucking go, just grabbing the sneakers by the door and nodding. Jaemin’s got the key in his hand and Renjun counts down to three before you open the door, sprinting out to the car as fast as you can.

The car beeps as Jaemin unlocks it and they all pile in as fast as possible. The doors are locked, the engine is started, and then they’re off. The tires squeal as they peel out of the driveway, breathing hard.

In their minds, they’re driving away from the threat, not towards it. Jaemin nearly crashes the car when something hits the windshield, yelling out a “oh, fuck no” when he realizes that it is 1) a person and 2) said person is slamming themself against the glass.

Jaemin swerves violently as he tries to throw the guy off, hitting a curb and nearly tipping the car onto its side. You’re screaming at the top of your lungs, one hand gripping onto Renjun, the other grabbing onto Donghyuck.

“Get him off!” Jeno screams, pushing his seat back as far as it goes as the zombie tries to break through the area right in front of him.

“I’m fucking trying!” Jaemin screams back, jerking the wheel violently to one side to get them off the sidewalk and onto the rode. He pulls a terrifying combination of stomping on the gas while jerking the wheel to one side, sharply turning the car and flinging the zombie onto the street in front of him.

The guy gets back up and Jaemin hits him full speed. Blood splatters on the window. You sob.

It’s followed by dead silence, all of you processing what just happened. Your face is buried in Renjun’s shoulder. Numbly, he pats your head.

Donghyuck breaks the silence. “Okay, I want to make it clear to god that I wasn’t joking when I said I never wanted that to happen against.”

That gets a weak laugh out of Jaemin and Jeno. “Guess that confirms that you’re not God’s favorite.” Jeno jokes.

“Like we didn’t already know that.” Jaemin scoffs. Hyuck sniffs in mock hurt.

You don’t respond, but you do pull your head away from Renjun’s shoulder and let go of his wrist. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, watching as tears stream silently down your cheeks, your hands wringing nervously in your lap.

“At least we were prepared.” Jeno points out, referring to the pile of emergency foods you’d stashed in the trunk just in case. There are also guns in there, courtesy your father, though he has no fucking idea how those would come in handy. They’re more there for the allusion of safety.

Jaemin and Jeno bicker while the radio provides them with static, Jeno eventually giving up on finding a working channel and shutting it off. Donghyuck grabs onto you and shoves his face into the crook of your neck before falling asleep. You sit stiffly in your seat, staring blankly at your hands.

Renjun scratches absentmindedly at his ankle, frowning at the persistent itchiness. There must’ve been spiders in that greenhouse.

No, not a spider. The conversation in the background fades out as his ears start ringing, heart pounding in his chest. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, praying under his breath. Slowly, carefully, he rolls back up his pant leg. Another deep breath. Renjun opens his eyes

The veins are black.