#glowing egg shape light

[naoiseart]

Avast! A page of dubiously coloured Sonic OVA doodles...

They are everything to me <3

[zeeislewd]

It's well past midnight when you finally bring yourself to climb the stairs to your bedroom, grumbling to yourself as you flip light switches and plunge yourself into abject darkness before going step by step up the creaky old staircase. You can hear the floorboards shift and protest against any weight being put upon them, and you hope against hope the noise of your steps doesn't wake your partner; they certainly deserve the rest.

As you crest the top of the stairs you see a strange shape; where you had expected to see your partner's dimly outlined sleeping form instead you see a dim glow under the covers, little moans and wet noises... A smile spreads across your face and you move closer; you don't have anything to be up for tomorrow morning, why not offer your love a little stress relief?

You pull back the covers and start climbing into bed, leaning down to kiss your partner when you notice the shock on their face, staring at you like they're afraid. At first you're confused, but then you feel something against your leg, damp and warm, and you look down. Whatever you expected to see between their legs, a mass of writhing tentacles slithering out of them, curling around their legs and now reaching up to take hold of you by the waist... That certainly wasn't it. At first you think this might be the cause of their fear, but then they open their mouth and manage to stammer out a few words.

"L-love, I'm so sorry, I- I mean I was planning to tell you soon and- But I-" they keep cutting themself off but you can gather enough context through the shock to realize this is just another facet of your partner, of the love of your life that you hadn't yet learned. A smile creeps onto your lips and before they can stammer out any more apologies you move in for a kiss. Their worry begins to melt away and you feel their arms wrap around you, their tentacles now moving with purpose, given permission to touch you for the first time. You feel the wriggling tendrils wrap around your waist, a few carefully slithering into the waistband of your panties, seeking out your soaked cunt.

The kiss turns into a deep make out, you feel their tongue push at your lips for entry and open your mouth to let it in only to realize it's another tentacle slithering up your lover's throat and into your mouth. Their eyes open to look at you, to keep their gaze locked on you to gauge your reaction as this new tentacle tests how far it can go. At first it only slips an inch into your mouth, then two, then you feel it touch your throat and start easing down. The tentacle is just a little thinner than their tongue, and they've made you take things down your throat before, held you between their thighs to see how long you could last... And it was hard to focus on having your throat fucked when you could also feel a tentacle in your pussy slithering deeper than anything was meant to enter you.

It prodded at your cervix and you felt a jolt of pain, pulling back reflexively, but it was determined to gain entry to your womb, and as soon as it was all the way inside you could feel why; the first egg was pushing against your labia, the bulge in their tentacle stretching you further as it moved up and into you. Another egg followed shortly, then another, and another; a near constant stream of eggs dropping comfortably into your womb until your belly was swollen out and full, so round you looked at least six months pregnant.

The stretching, the weight of your belly, the feeling of just how *full* you are is enough to push you over the edge. Your legs turn to jelly as you cum, letting out a desperate little moan over the tentacle in your mouth. It's clear from your partner's writhing body that they're close, too, and soon you feel the hot sensation of cum flooding down your throat, sticky and viscous all the way down into your belly. Gush after gush, pulse after pulse, the tentacle in your mouth starts to pull back out of your throat, leaving one last load on your tongue before re-entering your partner's lips to hide away once more. The cum tastes salty, but ever so slightly sweet, warm on your tongue...

As you break free from your orgasmic stupor you see an embarrassed grin on your lover's face, their hands up on their mouth to try and hide it but you can see the joy in their eyes. You know exactly what they're thinking and you blush, closing your eyes and rolling off of them to let the weight of your belly rest on the mattress instead of being pressed between you and them. They run a hand over the curve of your belly, the tentacles cradling it gently... You were going to be a mother, and not even remotely how you expected.

[murdrdocs]

been having a niche thought of marrying patrick sort of for the benefits and access that comes with it.

no one knows if you and patrick married for the right reasons. there were suspicions at the engagement party, jokes made by the people who knew you best. "i never thought these two would settle down, much less with each other". laughter followed, but everyone knew there was truth in the statement. why in the hell would you decide to marry patrick zweig?

love, is what you tell everyone. according to both of you, you're soulmates. and yeah, in most regards both are true. you and patrick share a love for each other. but that love is shared with others, too. you know each other better than most. but there are two others who know you both just as well. sitting at the end of the table during the engagement party. sitting just close enough to you and patrick during the wedding reception.

the donaldsons are maybe the real reason why you and patrick married. it started as a joke, really. a deluded, elaborate bit created by a drunk art (finally allowed to indulge now that he's retired) and a barely-tipsy patrick (put on a strict regimen by his new coach).

"if you two married, no one would suspect anything between us," was art's reasoning. it barely made sense to you at the time, but not much could make sense when you were struggling to stay awake, being lulled to sleep by the rumble of patrick's chest beside your ear where you lay, and the sweet waft of tashi's perfume carrying in the evening wind.

"think about it," art had continued. "people won't be suspicious over two married couples being close friends. they already probably think i'm cheating with," art slurred your name and you distantly acknowledged how nice the sound was like that. it reminded you of when he was fucked out and he called for you. "and they think tashi's cheating with you, patrick. but if you two were married..."

and art didn't have to say much else. because on a fresh mind the next morning, standing in art and tashi's kitchen, wearing patrick's shirt and waiting for freshly cooked eggs while looking at the sunspots covering art's back and shoulders, you began to understand the logic in art's argument.

married couples were friends. close friends. spend the night at the others house and hosts birthday parties for each other type of friends.

maybe that's why after that day, you and patrick started seeing just each other more. maybe that's why the two of you started dating. maybe that's why patrick took you to a nice place, had art help him set everything up, and popped the question with a ring that tashi assured him you would like. maybe it's why you went through with the wedding, why you bought a house together, why you became mrs. zweig in every sense of the title.

and truthfully, it's a nice life.

it's nice seeing patrick walk downstairs shirtless, his body on display for you to ogle. it's always been like that between you two, yes, but something's different. he has hickies on his shoulders, two from art and then one from you right beside it. there's scratches on his back from you and tashi. he's always wearing his wedding band, and the gold glints nicely against his tan skin. sometimes, you pull the ring up his lithe finger and admire the way he has a tan line now. a permanent reminder of you, even if your presence in a shared space is the same.

he looks cleaner, too, from work of you and tashi. his body a healthy mix between lean and toned. his skin glowing from the inside out. his beard shaped up nicely, a light brown that works well with the burnt orange sprinkle in his eyes. curly hair kept short, more and more greys growing day by day.

it's nice sitting in tashi and art's backyard on patio furniture the four of you had a say in, sharing drinks and old anecdotes before you all went upstairs to entangle your bodies upon the king-sized bed.

even without the legalities, you and patrick would've remained intertwined in tashi and art's lives. but it feels right like this. it feels more secure. like you're committed to each other in the same ways that you're both committed to the dolandsons.

plus, patrick seems to be more bearable as a husband than he was as a friend (the term used loosely of course).

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 16 [final chapter] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

warning(s): talk of past drug use and withdrawal symptoms.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / chapter 8 / chapter 9 / chapter 10 / chapter 11 / chapter 12 / chapter 13 / chapter 14 / chapter 15

[love renée but fuck am i getting sick of this gif. been looking at it for sixteen goshdarned chapters. finally i am freed.]

You woke up first. Naturally. Every time, every single morning that you'd had sleepovers, you'd been the first to wake up. The sun was shining through the blinds in a pleasant, warm yellow tone. Still morning but not unreasonably early.

You shifted to a more upright position, looking down at the girl still snoozing, whose hand was holding onto your forearm. She was all sprawled out, starfished as much as one could be on a couch. Her body was taking up the shorter end of the L-shape, one knee curled up towards her body, just barely on the couch, while the other stretched well beyond the end of the divan. You were situated much the same, except the other way around. You laid on the longer end so that your heads had almost met in the corner.

Her arms reached out towards you, one around your pillow and the other holding onto you. You knew you'd fallen asleep with much more distance between you, but you couldn't say you minded her having drifted.

Did you, though? You sighed and grumbled as you got up. Might as well do something while you contemplated reality, or something. Mrs George had insisted on some classic American breakfast ingredients, such as bacon and pancake mix. You didn't feel like causing a fire hazard, so pancakes were a no-go, at least for now. Eggs and bacon you could do.

What did you even, like, want? Realistically, actually, no, unrealistically what did you want? There was no sense in trying to make your base wants and desires realistic because at that point was any of that yours anymore? Likely not.

You wanted nights spent with Regina, talking and eating take-out, laughing until your tummy hurt and looking at her glowing in the blue light of whatever Adult Swim show was on at the time. You wanted grocery trips with Mrs George and to go to Kylie's games. You wanted people at school to just, simply not be jerks. You wanted Janis to find peace. You wanted Cady to wake up.

You wanted yesterday to not have happened. You wanted Thanksgiving dinner at the Georges' to never have happened. You wanted for your dad to be different, for Mr George to be different. You wanted your mom to not have died.

Looking at the bacon sizzling in the pan, you chewed on your lips and thought about that. You wanted many things. So many things, mostly for things to not have happened or to have happened differently. It was all wildly unrealistic. You were not a wizard, a time-traveller, or some other mystic being. You were a teenager.

You cracked the eggs into the mix. God, it smelled divine. You pulled a salt and pepper shaker from the spice rack and sprinkled a reasonable amount on there. You groaned out loud and threw your head back when you remembered there was sriracha in the fridge. Mrs George had seen you eyeing the bottle and had not taken a no for an answer, despite your abundant protestations.

"Spare your kitchen utensils the horror and go masturbate in your room like a normal person!" Regina hollered from the living room.

"Oh! Spatula! Harder! Harder!" You cried, moaning like you were receiving the blowie of your life. "If you want breakfast you're gonna have to witness this sordid affair." You called back, giggling. You leaned back from the stove, bending back at the waist. Regina was leaning her chin on the armrest, still more or less sprawled on your couch. There was a pout on her lips and a light flush to her cheeks.

"I'll show you sordid, nerd." She grouched before getting up. You straightened your posture, turning back to the stove, and probed the eggs in the pan with the spatula with a satisfied grin on your face.

You wanted this and more, above all. Was that something you were allowed to want? More importantly, was that something you were allowed to ask for?

Regina came up behind you, hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You didn't jump, much, which you were proud of.

"Looks yummy." She pointed out.

You hummed in agreement. "Can you put toast in the toaster?"

"Sure."

Then, as if no time at all passed, you were sitting down. Then eating and chatting. There was toast, eggs and bacon, and you'd made yourself a bowl of oatmeal. Mrs George had splurged on some blueberries and local honey. Regina refused to make eye contact when you were chewing, citing that your O-face was hard to look at. You only moaned louder and made more faces at her.

Then, just as you were heading to the couch to digest the meal as god intended, lying down, Regina yanked you to the foyer. Still in your jammies and everything, she insisted you bundle up and go for that walk she was talking about yesterday.

You'd hoped she would've forgotten. Sure, the weather was nice for once but if you didn't have to go outside then why would you? It was below freezing!

Much like her mother, she would not budge. You were going on a walk.

"What am I? A dog?" You muttered as you wrapped your scarf around your neck.

"If you were a dog, you'd be a... A Doberman." She was already dressed. It was odd for your roles to have switched like this. Usually, you were the one waiting for her to get ready. She had on a thick, white parka and a cute beanie. She also had on black leggings sure to insulate absolutely nothing and bulky, also black, fur boots.

"What? 'Cause I'm big and scary?" You preened at that, smiling widely.

"Nope." She tilted her head, examining you. "Gloves."

"Geez, okay, mom." You grabbed some mittens from the hat rack. "Why Doberman?"

"They wouldn't look so scary if they didn't have their ears clipped, y'know?" She said. You just looked at her weirdly, not catching her meaning. Your ears were not clipped. "Anyway, let's go."

"Aye aye," With that, you were out of the door.

You walked the block and down to the street. The sidewalk stopped so you went by the side of the road. She was walking ahead of you. It was cold out but not too windy, so it didn't feel so bad.

The sidewalk started again eventually. There, you walked side by side. You were just looking at a bird perched on a wire when you felt her grab your hand. Thinking she had something to say, you turned to look at her. She was still facing forward, the other hand in her pocket, walking along. She was just holding your hand.

Oh. Oh. She was holding your hand. Out in public. Not a lot of people were out at this hour, not even cars since it was a weekend. There was a woman with a stroller. A psychopathic man out on a jog. A dog walker. Still, it was outside where anyone who walked by could see.

You arrived at the park, hands clasped together. You stopped by a bench.

"I don't think we should sit." You said, observing the coating of snow piled on top.

"Let's go over there." Regina pointed to a tree a little ways away.

You went obediently, following the tug of her hand in yours. She was holding your hand. You felt all warm in your chest, like you were full of warm water.

You stopped by the tree. She looked around, trying to spot if anybody was nearby. Then, like she had a secret to tell you, she motioned for you to bend down closer. You did. Her hand squeezed at your fingers as the other came up to your neck, pulling you down the rest of the way.

The warmth you'd felt became hot, like an oil fire erupting in the foil-covered saucepan that was your heart, kernels and half-popped popcorn sputtering out as she kissed you. Your eyes just barely got to shutter closed before she pulled away. Instinctively, your body so starved of affection and touch, you chased her and found her lips again.

She smiled against your mouth. It felt like a secret of the utmost importance being shared, like a pinkie finger wrapped around your own in the corner of the room during a sleepover, giggled promises and childish adoration. She tasted vaguely like breakfast, and maybe egg-breath should've been nasty, but it wasn't.

Cold seeping in, the anxious feeling like you were soon going to be caught taking hold, you pulled away. You didn't lean away entirely, crowding her against the tree. When you'd gotten so close, pinned her, you weren't sure.

"Do..." What were you supposed to say post-kiss? "Do you like it sloppy?"

"What?" Her brows furrowed and the smile on her face turned sharper. What to say post-kiss: Not That.

"Uh, I mean, I just- uh..." You swallowed. "I don't know how to, like, I don't have technique. I dunno. Was that good? I saw Aaron was doing it differently..."

Regina rolled her eyes, head thumping lightly against the tree as her neck lolled back. "You would bring up Aaron now." She sighed. "It's fine. It's- it's good."

"Okay." You swallowed again. A slow smile crept up to your face. "It was good?"

"Ugh, yes, shut up." She shoved you away, but you just allowed the momentum to swing you back to her. "I... I don't think I'm good at words."

You chuckled at that. "No, you're not." She glared. You shrugged. "But, hey, you know me. I'm Chatty Kathy."

"No," She huffed through her nose, seemingly in frustration. "I wish I could say to you what I mean. What I feel. But I just... It's... It's not supposed to be but it's embarrassing."

Looking at her, hunched in on herself like a girl her age was supposed to be at times, so different from how she was most of the time, made your chest feel tight. You figured a person having been raised like she was, having turned out the way she had, would find being vulnerable uncomfortable. Or, as she said it, embarrassing.

Then again, it wasn't your place nor your duty to psycho-analyze her.

"Reg, I..." You hesitated. "I'm tired of, like, sitting in the passenger seat while you bulldoze everyone. I'm tired of feeling like if I do something you don't like you'll push me under too." You pulled away from her, hands getting sore from leaning your weight against the rough bark. "And then there's this whole thing." You gestured around you at the empty park. "Even if we were the best couple ever in terms of, I dunno, vibes or something, we're still..."

"Lesbians." She finished for you. "I'm a lesbian, Jorts." A sentence you never thought you'd hear from Regina George. "I know. For me, it felt justified for a long time, keeping them in their place, but since we started talking again, doing all that stuff just started to seem... Unimportant. And stupid." She fiddled with her fingers, eyes glued to the space between you. "It hasn't gone away. I still want to, I guess, hurt people because it does make me feel better even if it's, like, fucked up. But I want something else more than I want that."

"What's that?" You couldn't help but ask, hope stuck in your throat. Choking hazard.

"You, obviously." She said it so flippantly as if those words didn't just send your heart into the Milky Way. "I want you. I'll stop doing that stuff for you. I know we can't be out yet, but I... I have good grades."

You looked at her, puzzled. She huffed and continued. "I'll go to college. Major in, uh, I dunno, some sorta politics and I'll change the law. Maybe a law degree would work better for that, actually." She seemed to think about it for a moment before returning to her point. "Whichever one would be best in getting gay marriage legalized."

"You..." You had to laugh at that, disbelieving as well as delighted. "You're gonna change the world for me?"

"If that's what it takes." She said, determination shining so bright it made your eyes water.

"Wow, okay." You licked your lips, trying to will the stupid grin off your face. You had some important questions still. "If I moved away, would you still stop?"

She paused at that. Took a moment to really look at you, like she hadn't considered that to be a real possibility.

"Yes." She sounded so sure you believed her. "I just don't have... What it takes anymore. I guess. I don't know if there's something wrong with me that I... I want to be mean, sometimes. It's funny. For me." She glanced down and then looked somewhere over your shoulder. "It took a lot of work to get to what Regina George is now. I don't want to put in all that next year."

"Y'know what they say. New year, new me." You quipped, looking down at her. You were quite sure your pupils had morphed into heart shapes, despite your valiant efforts to have this meaningful conversation without seeming like a love-drunk idiot.

(She kissed you. You kissed her. It was a beautiful morning, you were on a walk and you'd held hands and then you'd kissed under a barren willow tree. It was the first day of Christmas break and you were spending it with Regina George.)

"Does that mean I can be a raging bitch till January 1st?" She asked, eyebrow notching.

You laughed. "Only if you..." You bit your bottom lip, getting nervous. "Only if I get a kiss for every mean thing you say."

"Deal." She offered her hand to you, a cheesy smile on her face.

You pulled your glove off and spit on your hand, then made to take hers.

"Ew! That's disgusting!" She flinched away from you, violently shoving herself back against the tree. "Don't- no! Not near me! Don't touch me with that!"

She bolted and you ran after her, cackling maniacally. You waved your spat-on hand at her as you chased her around the park, her shrieking and you laughing.

"I'm serious, J!" She looked at you over her shoulder as she ran. "Stop chasing me!"

"Stop running away from me!"

"You're just gonna smear your spit on me, you- you fiend!"

"Pinky swear I won't!"

"I won't pinky-swear with your disgusting paws, you-"

With a yelp, Regina tripped over something, probably a root, and fell to the ground. You, having been closing in on her, put the brakes on, windmilled your arms, and tried to stop, but soon followed her into the snow.

"Ouf!" The breath wooshed out of her as you fell on her. She wheezed as you rolled off of her, half-heartedly punching in your direction. You giggled and dodged to the best of your ability, not even minding the snow seeping through your pyjama pants.

Giving some time for her to recover, you laid on your back and looked up at the sky. Clear blue with some thick, greyish clouds looming in the peripheral, morning was turning to day fast. Soon, the park would surely get some more traffic. Kids and their adults, mostly. There was a sizeable play area in the centre. You were pretty much on the outskirts of the park.

It was a familiar spot. You and the guys used to meet your other friends here all the time. Those times it'd been night, too dark to see the faces of the guys with big gym bags, filled to bursting with little plastic baggies and glass bottles.

You turned your head to look at her once her breathing had quieted down.

"You bitch," She hissed at you, the usual venom in her voice gone, replaced by exhaustion. You could only smile, somewhat sheepish but mostly just happy.

"It'd be a lot harder to resist if we were still in school, y'know." You said, turning back to watch the sky. "You can't change the law until we graduate. Until then, we're stuck here. And then, let's say you do change the law and it's passed, it's gonna take some time for people to accept that."

"Yeah," Regina agreed, folding her arms under her chin to lean on.

"And you can say that you'll change a hundred times easily, but actually doing it is different."

"When did you get so wise?"

"When I was all alone for years and did some stupid stuff."

"Like what?" You could tell she wouldn't be expecting what you said next. Even you weren't expecting it.

"You know how I sell drugs and alcohol, right? Where do you think I get the stuff from? I got to know some people while we weren't talking." You sighed. Remembering those times, the worst of them, still so fresh despite it having been years, wasn't nice. "Vandalism, underage drinking, shoplifting, driving without a licence... Did some harder drugs than weed... Stupid shit. I stopped most of it when I got caught the last time and almost went to juvie. Dad got me out, somehow. Probably threw money at people."

You turned your head to look at Regina. She was already paying keen attention to you. "I told my mandated therapist I was gonna change. I said I wasn't going to ever do anything like that ever again. I lied, of course."

"When did you actually stop, then?" She asked.

"Months after the mandated therapy was over." You put your hands in your pockets, getting cold. "I wanted to do it before then. I wanted to just, not be that. A druggie fifteen-year-old spraypainting some dilapidated trailer, hanging around guys that were way too old to be hanging around me. I didn't want to be that but at the same time being anything else was terrifying. I don't think highly of myself, but that was low even for me. Then, Mrs George found me one time."

"Mom?" The question was more out of shock than actual inquiry.

"Yeah." You blinked a couple of times. "I was in a bad state. Withdrawals. I made her promise she wouldn't tell my dad if I allowed her to take me home. She was talking the whole ride from downtown to mine, trying to keep me awake. I just lost it. I don't remember what I said or exactly what I did, but she had to pull over and restrain me." You gulped. "It was awful. Then she offered that I could mow your lawn for some money. I used it the first couple of times to get a new dose. She used to ask what I'd be spending it on and those times I had some bullshit excuse, but the first time I said I was probably gonna get some McDonalds', she cried. Cried real actual tears." You didn't feel like looking at Regina, but you could feel her eyes on the side of your head. "After that it just... It wasn't worth it."

"You never told me." Regina breathed out, still sounding shocked.

"I didn't want to." You turned onto your side, body facing her. "I was- am ashamed."

You didn't feel shame now, though. You undoubtedly would later, tomorrow perhaps, but not now. You were glad for it. You regretted it, wished you hadn't gone down that road, but lying there in the cold snow there was only indifference. That had happened. You had done that.

"Me too." She whispered. "Obviously, it's not the same, but-"

"I know what you mean. And it could be more similar than you think. Quitting an addiction is hard, but I wouldn't say quitting a behaviour is easy."

"It's stupid to compare drug addiction to being a bitch." Regina huffed, a frown on her face. "It's incomparable."

"Well, then let's not compare. Both can be hard in their own way without diminishing the other. What I'm trying to point out is that," You thought for a moment. "We're both trying to get over a bad, toxic habit that feels safe and good and like the only option, without seeing the merit or the other supposedly better option first. It's scary."

"Are you still trying to get over it?"

"I haven't been on drugs since, no. But it's not something that goes away. Not ever."

"And you're still kinda in it." She said, remembering your hustle around the school.

"Yeah. I can't expect you to be all buddy-buddy with everybody suddenly. That'd be hypocritical."

"So what do we do?"

What a question. One that you did not have the answer to. You didn't feel unsettled by the confusion. You hadn't told anyone of your dark past (gosh, could you be any more emo?) since those that knew had just kind of stumbled across it, so telling somebody felt... Good. You'd just sort of blurted it all out without thinking about it too much.

"Can we go back home? I wanna..." You stopped, realizing I wanna make out with you on the couch sounded awfully crude.

A lecherous grin spread Regina's cheeks. "Oh, I see. You just want me for my body."

"No!" You denied, indignant. "I would never."

"You would never want me for my body." She reiterated, purposefully misconstruing what you said. "Wow. Just wow."

"Regina, c'mon, I just mean..."

"Say what you were gonna say." She rolled away and up, towering above you with a twinkling smile pointed down at your prone body.

"Let's just go," You said and tried to get up. Like some bondage dominatrix, she pushed you back down with a shoe on your chest.

You hated how that sort of got to you. Your heart beat faster against her Ugg. Hopefully, she didn't feel it through the thick sole.

"Nuh-uh. Say it."

"I... I wanna make..." You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. "I wanna go home and make out with you on the couch."

"Oh, that wasn't so hard, now was it, baby? Let's go."

It was only once you'd made it back, chucked your wet clothes into the hamper, and spent a considerable amount of time in liplock, that either of you thought to circle back.

"Hey," Regina said, adjusting her weight to not be leaning on you so heavily. Your lips smacked apart and, gosh, now you were the gross ones. "I just now realized,"

"What are you realizing while you're supposed to be kissing me?" You pouted, falling onto your side and away from her. Your hand went over your eyes like you were a swooning maiden. Regina just patted your leg in mock consolation.

"You have your drug thing-" Only she would refer to your past addiction as your drug thing. "but I was, like, the only one doing anything actually wrong. Actively. You know what I mean." You craned your neck to look at her. Your double chin was probably epic.

"I lied to you by omission. I was really mean to you on Thanksgiving."

"Okay, lying by omission was bad and never do that again," She paused, waiting for you to affirm. You nodded solemnly. "But you were only mean after I was mean first. So, both forgiven. Anyway, I'm talking, like... I don't know how to say it."

You blinked. You didn't know what she meant so you couldn't really help. Regina huffed, nails scratching absent-mindedly on your calves.

"You made it sound like we were both wrong for how things exploded." She eventually said. "That was all me."

"I shouldn't have been such a doormat. I let you walk all over me and I never said anything about how I really felt."

"I don't think you can be in the wrong for that."

"I think I can be. At least the way that I was. I could've said something."

"And what would that've achieved? Me cutting you off and nothing changing?"

You clambered up to your elbows. "And now we're here." You smiled, one side a little crooked with how gleeful you were. "Look, we can hash everything out during the break, now just... Let's focus on other things."

Regina, still looking conflicted, caressed a hand up your leg. You shivered. You were in just a hoodie and loose briefs. Regina was more covered up than you, but still in just your old basketball shorts and a big band tee.

"Reggie, I'm getting used to asking for things I shouldn't want. Amuse me." You turned onto your back and hooked your legs around Regina. She fell forward, hands braced on either side of your torso. "Kiss me."

"I just don't want to mess up and have all this go away." She swallowed, a worried crease between her eyebrows.

"I think we're gonna mess up plenty of times. It's a possibility you'll find some justification to make somebody's life hell for a time. I could relapse." You pulled her closer with your legs, arms coming up to cross your fingers behind her neck. "A lot of the time we're not gonna want to admit it, we might not even know it. So, we can lay out a few... Promises, or something."

"Okay," Regina said, gazing down at you like you never imagined. Like you meant things to her. Important things.

"Promise me that you'll listen. Even if you disagree, please hear me out." She nodded seriously. "And, in turn, I promise to speak my mind. When I don't like something, or just like something, I'll say so." Again, she nodded. You loosened your hold on her neck and rubbed your thumbs on her cheeks. Getting to touch her like this, having her literally between your legs, was more than you ever thought you'd get.

Even if this ended in a similar fashion to the Thanksgiving kiss, or even much, much worse, you'd have regretted not taking the chance for the rest of your life.

"And... This is the most important one... Come closer."

Regina shifted closer, bending down, her elbows coming to rest next to your chest as she turned her ear towards you.

You whispered conspiratorially, like this was top-secret: "Still let me do your yard work."

Notes: Fucking christ. I wrote this all in one sitting. 4.3k words. That's like two chapters. I've written long chapters before, longer than this, but I got so used to the 2k on average pace that this felt huge.

Also! Don't be spooked by the [final chapter] marking! This is the last chapter in the story, yes, but we'll be hearing more from Reggie and Jorts still! I have a couple of epilogue sequences I want to write. Would y'all be interested in a poll as to what order those should be published? As in, chronological. Do we start from 10 Years Later... or something more like, idk, next summer? Lmk in the comments :)

This might be counterintuitive to add, and if my lovely amazing readers have exercised their reading comprehension during this series they might get why on a more nuanced level, revenge on Gretchen was left out purposefully. This will not be the last we hear of her, I have some plans for her in some of the epilogues, but yes. That plot point was left open on purpose.

The name. A lot of people like it! I was feeling insecure about my lack of foresight and impulsive naming, but hey, as it turns out it's not that deep! To add, it went really nicely with the end there I think :) No changes will be happening.

This note is getting so long. I just wanna thank everybody that's been along for the ride so far. I read every single comment and check my notifications way too often for new ones. I'm pretty used to writing for quite dead/inactive fandoms on AO3, and I love that site it's my origin, but it's very different to Tumblr. I just feel like people on here are much more open to sharing their thoughts. Everybody who's bore witness to my grief with the taglist, thank you for your patience. And thank you so much for wanting to be on it. I cannot believe people wanted that. For little ole me? Oh, you shouldn't have...

If there are spelling errors or grammatical weirdness, shhh. I'm not reading all that again at 1am. Toodles!

Taglist will be posted separately! Comment on that post if you want to be added to be notified when the epilogies are published!

[rehenys]

God, you're so handsome. ~ T.Wolff

TW: Implied smut, Age Gap, Smoking. Synopsis: Toto and George Russell's Sister are sneaking around.

God, he's so handsome in his vintage Merc and black Tom Ford glasses. With the sleeve of his black shirt casually rolled up, his muscular forearms catch the light. A wisp of smoke hangs between his parted lips as he waits for me at the end of the road, hoping my brother doesn't see us. I drop my duffle bag rushing into his arms and meeting his lips with a sinful kiss. His lustful eyes raked over my outfit, biting his lip But we both know time is of the essence.

Out on the open road of Monaco with the wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck, just us and the ocean. His palm lays flat on my exposed thigh, mindlessly drawing shapes, his fluffy hair tousled due to the wind. His skin was glowing due to the setting sun. We pause to watch the sunset. I lean back against his chest, nestled between his long legs, with his arms wrapped around my waist and his lips against my neck. While my phone rings in the back seat.

5 missed calls from George

It's midnight, and we're tangled up in his sheets. I'm nestled against his side, his warm skin pressed against mine. His hand slowly roams my hip and waist until the teasing becomes too much. I stand over his body, holding him like a python, he canʼt keep his hands off me or his pants on. His lips whispered my name like a prayer.

16 missed calls from George

DAY 2:

In the morning light, he's still as handsome as ever, with tousled hair and sleepy eyes. I press a soft kiss to his jaw. As I try to untangle our limbs, his arms tighten around my waist. I flop back down, giving up on getting out of my safe place. After all, who needs breakfast?

Around mid-noon, we begrudgingly leave the bedroom to have ‘breakfastʼ. Who would have thought Toto Wolff would look so good making eggs? His bare torso is covered in an apron, his dexterous fingers wrapped around the whisk. I just intently stare at him making us breakfast, simply mesmerised, which he notices, he winks before giving me a bowl of strawberries to snack on. We share Crêpeʼs with whipped cream, with my feet in his lap; our lips swollen and his marble skin covered in purple splotches.

26 missed calls from George

It's the dead of night, and he sits on the sofa with his spectacles on, furiously typing away on his laptop, his hair messy from running his hand through it, his face set in a scowl. I just made his favourite Pumpernickel bread, and I have about 45 minutes to kill while it bakes. He looks too delicious right now for me to resist. I stand in front of him with an innocent smile, slowly moving his laptop away. His brown eyes crinkle with excitement, His lips find mine as I tug on his hair, gently massaging it to soothe the sting. He chuckles against my lip, his large palms sinking into my skin as my fingers nimbly unbutton his white shirt. My lips meet the skin between his neck and shoulder, his head thrown back in pleasure.

38 missed calls from George 

DAY 3:

The next morning, I grab my phone while Torger is in the shower, to see a flurry of texts from my brother cussing me out, asking where I am. I calm him down, listing more lies to cover up our trial and he blindly trusts me, my heart heavy with guilt but he would never understand. I repeat it in my head like a mantra till that guilt settles when Toto takes me into his arms, kissing away my problems.

We lay on the couch as I read out loud, my hand running through his hair, his eyes fluttering shut. God, he's so handsome.

I chuckle, my darling all worn out. The simple domesticity of this week has me longing for more. we need to tell my brother, but how can I, this wasn't meant to happen but if I could go back in time I wouldn't change a thing. but my brother wouldn't understand, he has always been protective of his baby sister, and I know he would blow a fuse if he realised I was with his long-time mentor.

Our peaceful weekend had come to an end when he parked at the end of the road; back where we started, His face seemed to be set in a permanent scowl during the drive back. A chaste kiss and I walked up the road back home nodding at the security guard as he let me in giving me a sorrowful look. Stepping through the threshold of my house I switch to being the perfect sister and daughter of The Russells.

I happily greet my brother, feeding lies about my girl's weekend like I didn't spend the whole weekend in bed with his Boss and Mentor. As I head up the stairs he complements my outfit, I thank him with a soft smile but beneath that pretty pink Chanel dress he brought are the bruised hand prints of Torger Wolff with love bites to match.

[nina-ya]

Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Law x reader CW: Mentions of blood. Fluff overall. WC: 1.2k

Leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the moon casting its gentle glow on the calm waters, you found comfort in the rare moment of the submarine surfaced on the open sea. Law joined you, and a comfortable silence settled between you, the only background noise being the ship's engines and  the crash of waves.

“You know,” he starts, his fingers idly tracing the railings, “I’ve heard of these groups of islands on the Red Line, uninhabited and unexplored,” his fingers seem to trace circles into the railing, mimicking the islands as he continues, “I can see the entire crew living on one of those islands, just all of us together.” His fingers halt in their place, and his gaze shifts to you, “... and I see you there. I see you and me together, just living without a care in the world.” The atmosphere fills slightly with a tension and you sense a rare vulnerability in Law's demeanor.

“There's something about the uncharted,” he muses, his gaze fixing onto the stars above. “It’s just so pure and untouched. Not ruined by horrible people, and we would be the ones to shape its story.”

As he speaks, Law's demeanor softens, revealing a side of him rarely seen. His eyes hold a glimmer of anticipation, and the corners of his lips betray a subtle smile.

"I've seen enough chaos and battles," he admits. "What I want is to discover a future with someone I care about."

In the quiet between words, Law’s hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining. "I can picture it," he confesses, "a life where you and I are free from the constraints of the world. One where we can live freely." 

The conversation drifts into the early hours of the morning, the shared hopes and dreams only giving way to the certainty of being together forever. You know Law loves you when he talks about a future with you in it. 

- - - The dim light of Law's cabin barely illuminates the room as the submarine sails through the night. As a habitual insomniac, he found himself immersed in the quiet of the late hours. Papers, maps, and various other books are scattered across his desk, evidence of a night spent deep in thought and planning.

The first rays of sun begin to filter through the porthole of his quarters, Law, weary but determined, pushes himself to finish what he has already started. Knowing that you will wake up soon, Law decides to ignore the drowsiness that threatened to consume him. Without a word, he closes his books, tidies the clutter on his desk, and heads to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Law moves with purpose. He selects ingredients, and soon, the aroma of fresh coffee beans fills the air as he brews a strong pot for you. The soft sizzle of eggs hitting the pan accompanies the noise of the coffee dripping into the pot

Despite the evident weariness in his face, Law continues. He plates a simple yet thoughtful breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Just as the sun begins to shine over the submarine, Law returns to his quarters. The signs of a long night are evident in the disheveled papers, the scattered books. Yet, on the small desk, there sits a neatly arranged breakfast tray, just for you. 

As you stir awake, the smell of breakfast fills your senses. You look over to the source of the smell and your eyes land on the desk. There, you find the meal and right next to it, lays Law, who is sound asleep. You smile softly as you take in the sight in front of you. You know Law loves you through his silent acts of service towards you.

-

-

-

The smell of blood fills the air as the battle comes to an end. Law surveys the aftermath, assigning the uninjured members of the crew to tend to the more severely injured ones as his own attention turns to focus solely on you. 

“Here, let me help you.” He commands in his usual stern tone as he guides you to a less chaotic area, the subtle urgency in his voice betraying the composed facade. He quickly starts his examination on you, not wanting to miss any bump or scratch.

As other more bruised and battered crew members come to seek medical attention from Law, he quickly dismisses them. "Give us some space," he declares, a  firmness in his voice indicating that he is not to be disobeyed.

Law meticulously examines you and your injuries, his fingers tracing every cut, every scratch, every bruise on your body as he decides his next course of action. He determines that your injuries are only surface level, but insists on staying with you and patching you up himself. 

His attention never wavers as he tends to each and every wound on you, making sure to give you extra care and love and attention. He knows the rest of his crew needs proper medical attention, but a lingering voice yells at him to make sure that you are completely taken care of before anyone else. As he applies the bandages, you can see the care and love for you he has in his eyes. You know Law loves you when he puts your health and wellbeing above others. 

-

-

- 

Law sits in a corner of his quarters engrossed in the latest issue of "Sora the Warrior." The glow of the lamp beside him casts a warm light on his face, emphasizing the focus in his features evident in the furrow of his brows. 

You enter the room, your purpose being to look for something, but your gaze falls upon Law and the unexpected sight of him being lost in a comic.  A hint of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a playful smirk. Law, sensing your presence, looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to embarrassment.

Caught in the act, Law instinctively closes the comic, a poor excuse falling from his lips as he utters "It's not what it looks like," a rare flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. His attempt at nonchalance only fuels your amusement.

You can’t help but tease him. "Didn't take you for a comic book fan, Captain," you say, a playful glint in your eyes.

Law sighs realizing he can't talk his way out of this one.  "Fine, yes I'm into comics." he confessed, embarrassment evident in his tone.

Out of curiosity,  you encourage him to share more. "Really? I had no idea you were into this stuff. What do you like about it?" you asked, taking a seat beside him.

Law hesitates for a moment before launching into an unexpectedly enthusiastic explanation. His eyes light up as he dives into the storyline, the character development, and the battles. As he rambles on, the embarrassment melts away, replaced by a childlike enthusiasm.

He begins to show you the comic, pointing out details in the artwork, discussing plot twists, and even theorizing how the story might go. The more he talked, the more animated he became, his initial embarrassment transforming into genuine enthusiasm for the comics.  You find yourself smiling in complete and utter infatuation as his more unexpected nerdy side comes out as he rambles passionately. The excitement in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes shows you a different side of Law, one that you hope to see more often. You know Law loves you when he shares his unexpected passions with you.

[juniperdugong]

Forgot Your Lunch - Scoups

WC: 1023 || Genre: Fluff :) ...Angst :( || Happy (late) Birthday to this very handsome man!! ❤

A/N: If this does well maybe a pt.2 with what happened? (I totally don't have a whole story in my head about this fic alr...and this totally wasn't meant to be a teaser but got out of hand)

Some songs that inspired this fic!

Those morning hours, right before the sun shines in all its splendor, when most people are still resting their tired brains, and when quietness feels like a warm welcome to the day.

These were Seungcheol's favorite hours. The slivers of warm orange sunlight peaking through the curtains illuminating the space, giving the house a different type of glow. He relished in the fact that no one, not even you, was awake during this time. It gave him all the pleasure of gazing at your sleeping figure and giving you a few feather-light kisses before he actually got started with his day.

Seungcheol had gotten really into cooking when you two got together. Watched the tutorials, wrote down the recipes, and did a lot of the grocery shopping when he had the time - he even asked for help from Mingyu when he was really struggling. All of this effort put in for one simple goal - to be able to make your lunches for work.

He took great pride in making sure your lunch was not only healthy and balanced but nice on the eyes as well! Presentation was half the battle of cooking in his (humble) opinion.

Today wasn't any different, after haphazardly washing up he waltzed into the kitchen and chose a fitting playlist for such a joyful morning. He knows what to make, one of your favorites, a very simple and delicious spread of kaarage, a rolled omelet, rice, and a mix of fruits and vegetables cut up in the cutest little shapes! (Never forgetting the homemade spicy mayo, of course.) It's a specialty of his - and more than that - it was the first lunch he made you that you had raved about to your coworkers, only boosting his ego evermore.

Humming along to the music he went through the motions of washing and cooking the rice, setting out all the ingredients he'd need, and placing all the dishware on the counter in an assembly line. The few times that you'd woken up early enough to witness this practiced scene you'd have to admit that it was impressive the way he had gotten it all down to a T. Like a drill sergeant he would lead the charge in the kitchen, at least in the mornings, and if you ever dared to lift a finger…the earful you'd get before work- But what else can you expect from the most loving husband in the world AND the leader of one of the top kpop groups in history?

It's like everything, all the problems and worries, drifted away during this time. The sole issue in Seungcheol's entire world being what you would eat for the day. It was his way of showing you that he still cared and that he was still very committed. With a job that kept him away from you for such long periods of time and that took up all his energy and attention when he was home, it only felt right to do something as small as wake up before you and devote some time to you - even if you weren't always there to see it.

It would be a very hard task to try and tear away the smile that grew from him as he carefully assembled the different pieces of your food into a bento box. The only change in expression coming from the way his brows would furrow and his mouth would form a pout when he was ultra-focused with a knife or when he was gently making the finishing touches.

He took the chicken from the hot oil and placed them on a paper towel-lined plate - he knew how much you hated the excess oil when you ate. Turning off the stove in a swift movement he turned his attention to slicing the egg roll into perfectly proportioned pieces that you could eat in one bite. Then the fruits and vegetables - today's variety, some blueberries, leftover chocolate-covered strawberries, and a small salad with cherry tomatoes, all served with a small toothpick - he took note of that little comment you had made about how eating things with a toothpick makes the experience a bit more fun.

With a little jaunt in his step, he moved to put the puzzle together in an eye-pleasing manner. And once he was satisfied - he stepped back from his masterpiece. His gift to you. He looked at the clock-

8pm.

Oh.

It's night time.

That's right.

He stilled completely, coming back to reality. He left the kitchen with a ruffle to his hair. Dragging his feet into the bedroom he let his hands roam around the cold sheets, desperately searching for your warmth - your figure.

This was your bed too! The one you shared. C'mon, you remember, right? You're supposed to be here.

He looked out the window, no slivers of sunlight. Just the light pollution of a bustling city.

It's late and you're supposed to be home now, works done. It's supposed to be done.

He balled up all the sheets in his two fists and knelt on the bed. Gritting his teeth through tears that didn't dare hold back his emotions. And he punched that mattress so damn hard he could swear it felt like a human fighting back against him. The tangling of the sheets feels like Seungkwan and Dino holding him back from doing something else to hurt himself. He screamed so loud that his throat hurt, and he choked himself with the sound until red and veins popped. Drunk on something akin to anger but closer to loneliness he headed face-first into a pillow - but oh it was yours. The one you laid on just a few days ago. His tears and snot smeared across the blank canvas created a gross mirage but he didn't care. He let himself sit there, inhaling everything you left. Wailing into your remnants - curling up into your side of the bed, what would always be your side of the bed.

You forgot your lunch. It's here with him. "So come back, y/n. I'm really fucking sorry."

A/N: Hey guys...been a minute (a few days) And I come back with this- I do really like this though. Love me some happy memories and train wreck tbh. Let me know what you lovelies think! Have a great weekend or week, depending on when you see this. (protip DO NOT read this while listening to "The Place Where He Inserted the Blade" almost shat tears) Please Reblog and Comment if you enjoyed ! (They act as power-ups for me)

Taglist (OPEN): @bemybabiibish @bath1lda

[eywa-eveng]

ᴠᴏᴡs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙɪɴᴅ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴛᴏɴᴏᴡᴀʀɪ & ʀᴏɴᴀʟ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.8k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst, hurt/comfort, slight nsfw

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – pregnancy, mentions of childbirth

A lorpaytsyal with its rows of shimmering fins swims past, stirring a cloud of syuratan that glitters like a burst of blue stars over the sun speckled sand. The shape of the white light bends to the pattern of the rippling waves, tracing out swirling shapes that break only in the shadows beneath the rows of coral. The polyps bloom in shades of purple, spindly limbs weaving together to form a canopy of darkness. Some pieces are broken, the cracked knobs revealing inner layers where something tore away the unwanted sprigs. The stony flesh of the coral has been cracked and shaped into a small alcove, just big enough to host a nest. A bed of stray lengths of seaweed and dead fragments of coral sit in the space hollowed out in the shadiest part of the sea floor. It’s lit with only the faintest glow of blue algae that’s dotted over the eggs nestled within the shallow burrow. Nestled in the shallow burrow are eggs, enough that a few going missing wouldn’t be enough to noticeably deplete the clutch.  

Light warms the hidden recess as you swim closer, the txampaysye clinging to your back filling the dusky hollow with the light of a soft sunrise. The pale green shells take on hues of gentle yellow and warm pink as you pick over the mound of eggs. They’re small, no larger than your palm, and each is only the weight of a small stone. You’re careful as you sift through them. The shells are soft and pliable, the texture like skin as you press lightly against each one. Curious fingers trace over the weighted areas of the wrinkled shells, feeling the slightest silhouette of the sea snake growing within. The light of the gill mantle is just enough to pierce through the thin membrane to the veins lacing through the shell. Each occupied egg is set gently aside but every few are empty, unviable. The shells harden when there is no life to support inside it. Though there’s no way for the mother to know that so you’re quick about your work, checking and replacing the eggs before an angry snake comes threading through the net of coral branches. By the time you’ve picked over the entire nest you’re left with a bounty of six eggs that you tuck gratefully into the satchel slung across your chest. 

It’s already heavy with other trinkets found during your exploration. Pearls in shades of blue and pink, shards of crystal smoothed over by the tide, and shells formed into delicate designs. The fabric of your pouch is nearly over encumbered as you tuck the last egg inside, leather ties straining as you tighten it closed. Sunlight traces across your skin as you swim away from the resettled nest, spears of light beginning to poke through the farther you get from the center of the coral hoard. The light of your tanhì flickers out as you emerge, sunlight swallowing the flecks of bioluminescence as it dances over your skin. Its warmth is lost in the coolness of the water as you swim, calling for your tsurak with a few throaty clicks. It takes time and a few more calls before the skimwing returns in its own time, darting through the forest of sea plants and schools of meandering fish to find you, though it doesn’t stop to allow you to mount as it rushes past. There’s a practiced ease to catching the handle of its saddle and tucking yourself against its back. Tsurak are known to be temperamental creatures, stubborn and selective with who they allow to bond with them. 

It is only your own temperament that keeps your fieresome companion returning after hunting in the open ocean. Some mounts have been known to leave the village and never return, leaving their rider to find another mount to bond with. It’s a vague fear whenever you go beyond the bounds of the village. You are not a hunter despite your childhood training. There is no reason for you to be beyond the seawall if not for your own pleasure and your tsurak knows this, can feel it each time tsaheylu is made. Your curiosity and excitement sings through the bond. It should’ve been tampered years ago and likely left you without a willing mount but you’ve yet to allow expectations to dampen your indulgences. There is balance in your excursions. For every treasure you find there is something of utility. Bones to be made into needles and knives, healing plants that only grow in the deeper waters, fish that seem to favor areas beyond the village. You leave no room for reproach and so you’ve been allowed to continue to spend your days however you’d like, coming and going as you please unless something in the village demands your attention. Still you return while the sun is still high in the sky. 

The terraces are crowded with people fishing as your tsurak leaps over the wall, beating its wings with a loud screech that draws eyes to your arrival. There’s no slowing even as the shore draws closer. Instead you simply loosen your grip and pull your tswin free of the bond, sinking into the water as your tsurak turns tail towards the open water once more. It leaves you in a cloud of frothy bubbles stirred by the rapid swing of its tail fins, unbothered by your distance from land. This is the way of things between you. Your chosen mount is bolder than most, hardly tampered by your own personality echoed through tsaheylu. It is a privilege to ride such creatures and it never lets you forget even after so many years of bonding. 

Warmth kisses your cheeks as you surface for a breath before diving back into the water. The morning had been tiring, your palms and feet scuffed and sore from climbing along the jagged edges of the island cliffs. The shore isn’t so far off that you’ll tire before you can reach it yet you still roll to your back and allow your body to float on the gentle waves. A deep orange glow plays behind your eyelids as you close them against the bright light beaming overhead, the heat of it drying the drops of water from your exposed skin. Beneath the water, the lazy paddling of your tail is interrupted by a quick tug that shocks your eyes open, stinging your gaze with the white heat of the sun. It’s hardly frightening as you recognize the distinct feeling of fingers wrapped around your appendage, though it isn’t exactly a pleasant sort of shock. The white clouds seared into your eyes disappear as your secondary lids slide closed as you look beneath the water to see the one bold enough to snatch at your tail. 

A sharp swing of your hips yanks you free of Tayku’s grip and he lets go willingly, raising his hands in a show of peace even as a roguish smile plays at his scarred lips. The boy is young–young enough to be your son–and yet he chases your tail as if it’s dipped in nectar. There’s an air of flirtation about him as he swims circles around you, the smug smile never leaving his face. His intentions are clear, as clear as your own answer has been. A terse rejection is what he and all your other suitors have received since this new season of courting began. It’s why you find yourself beyond the bounds of Awa’atlu more often than not in recent days. To avoid interactions such as these where the newly made men of the clan come nipping at your ankles, yapping about giving you strong sons. 

It wouldn’t be so terrible if they were closer to your own age, if you hadn’t watched them grow up alongside your firstborn. Each of his life achievements you’d been there to see and now he’s pulling his tswin over his shoulder in a bold display of his intentions. It would almost be endearing if he was younger and didn’t yet know the weight of his words and what he is asking for. But he’s a man now, one of the People, and knows exactly what he’s asking for as he tilts his head and flashes his fangs. You watch him posture and boast in the water for a few moments longer before rolling your eyes hard enough to open your secondary lids and turn to swim towards the shore. 

A brief surface for air gives Tayku a chance to swim beneath you and you nearly knock into him when you dive under again. He’s close, not so close that you can scold his overly familiar behavior, but just near enough that you can’t forget his presence. He clings close like a fish to the underside of a nalutsa, swimming with his face towards the surface and eyes on you. His distance is well-placed, just far enough to keep out of range of your annoyance. For all their simpering advances the young men don’t allow their infatuation to cloud their knowledge of your brash personality. This is the closest Tayku has gotten in all his advances and he still knows to keep out of your reach after inciting your temper with his childish grabbing. You’ve never been known to be particularly docile. If you were a fruit your skin would have thorns and your meat would be sour before it turned sweet, a delicacy only few people could enjoy despite the outwardly attractive look. 

«I was looking for you earlier.» Tayku signs, perfectly timing his words to your sparing glances towards him. It isn’t interest that draws your eyes to him. You’re more curious to see if he’ll leave you be if he’s ignored, though it seems Tayku has taken your brief glances to mean more than they are. He must have because he doesn’t abandon the conversation even as you arrive at the village, pulling yourself on to one of the many overhanging paths without so much as a parting glance. He stutters for a moment as you whip your loose hair over your shoulder, pelting his face with stray drops of water. 

“Where did you go today?” He asks after pushing his own damp hair away from his face, arm flexing purposefully. He’s harder to ignore outside of the water being the size that he is. Tall and wide, crowding your vision as he trots along beside you, uncaring of where you may be leading him. It hardly matters. The village is a place of finite spaces and he’s well aware of where your marui is. All of your suitors are if the gifts left outside your pod are any indication. Newly tanned fish leather, a carved box full of delicate beads, a freshly caught fish wrapped in thick leaves. There has been no shortage of anything in your home since the village welcomed its newest adults into the ranks. 

It feels so strange to be spoiled in this way again after so many years. Your time for courting had come and gone with no mate to show for it. Your son was made from a humble request for a fertility match. A quiet meeting with the village elders and tsahìk praying that Eywa grant you the child you’d so desperately wanted despite your lack of a mate. It had taken some time but they found an auspicious match and you fell pregnant quickly after, still unmated but filled with new life. It’s just as well that the two of you forwent the forging of tsaheylu seeing as your child’s father went on to be named olo’eyktan soon after you fell pregnant. He was mated off to the chosen tsahìk as is tradition and you certainly didn’t have the knowledge to assume such an esteemed position. 

The three of you became a true family, raising your children together as proper siblings despite their mixed parentage. And seeing Ronal pregnant again after so many years has raised the desire to be a mother within you once more. It was your mistake in making your intentions known to others because now you have men like Tayku trailing after you in the hopes that they’ll be the father of your next child. Never mind that they’re all nearly the same age as your first, some younger in fact. Far too young to be sniffing after you like a hunting nantang. You say as much but Tayku simply laughs, tossing his head back as if you’ve just told the funniest joke. He’s hardly being subtle in his advances. It’s nearly desperate how badly he wants to please you and yet he won’t indulge your greatest desire of being left alone to find a willing man on your accord. You’d been there for the first matchmaking and now know what to look for. An unestablished man is not something you are interested in at your age. If you are to share a parultsyìp with someone you’d rather they know their place among the clan.

Tonowari was beyond your expectations. The day the elders had collected you, and led you to a marui seldom used and sequestered within a particularly thick thatch of mangrove roots, you hadn’t known what to expect. Least of your wildest imaginings had been the clan’s finest warrior and chosen successor to the olo’eyktan. Everything that Tayku is even now in his youth is a single spark next to the open flame that Tonowari was when he was the same age. He’d been a few years your elder when you formally met, already covered in a multitude of scars and tattoos. Testamates to his prowess. It was your honor to give him his first child. 

His arrangement with Ronal was to the benefit of the clan and you’d never begrudge them that. If not for the elders’ decision you would’ve been settled with less than the best the clan had to offer you. It hardly mattered that he was mated so soon after. And now, nothing would make you lower yourself to allow the first man that asks to father your next child. If you were to have another baby it would be with a man who had earned his place within the clan, not these boys that had only just come into their own. 

“Did you find anything interesting today?” Despite your lack of answers Tayku keeps up a steady stream of chatter that sounds like bugs buzzing in your ear. He’s sweet and eager to please, and handsome despite the thick scar running through his lips. He will make a woman very happy someday. But not you. And you aren’t selfish enough to rein him in until you’re satisfied that he’s proven himself. That could take months or years and by that time he’d expect to mate fully for all the trouble you’d put him through. It wasn’t something you wanted. 

Being tied so closely to someone has always held a bit of terror to someone like you, utterly uninterested in staying tied down. When you were younger you dreamed of exploring the ocean, of visiting with neighboring sea clans and learning their traditions. But now you have your son, you have your family. Even without a mate you’ve managed to halt any plans of leaving Awa’atlu for too long. Still your childish fear of being mated persists. It may be rare but mating bonds can go sour and without death to break it you’re left tied to someone your soul no longer desires. It makes you wonder if Tayku even realizes what he’s asking of you. He has heard that you want another child, yes, but he courts you as if he expects tsaheylu to be made. You’re little more than a stranger to him, the mother of his childhood friend. To be tied to you could be his nightmare but he can’t see past the opportunity to lay with a previously untouchable woman. The thought is dizzying. 

“Don’t you have chores to attend to?” You ask at last, tiring of him shadowing your every move through the village. He raises his chin, grinning down at you, most likely elated that you’ve finally deigned to speak to him after his flaccid attempts at starting a conversation. 

“I’m already finished. I went hunting early this morning and my catch was enough for the day.” He goes on about the two large fish he caught along with his regular bounty, enough to measure the haul of any other hunter still out fishing beyond the reef, caught within the first few hours of the day. “I wanted to bring you one but I couldn’t find you.” Just as well because you wouldn’t have accepted his gift. A fish as large as he says is far too sumptuous to hoard to yourself with only you and your family. It’s a lavish courting gift, one that anyone would be elated to receive, but it would be passed out of your hands just as quickly as it came, sent off to feed the village as it should. 

“Do not feed me before the village. Your duties come before your indulgences.” It’s what you were always told when you were caught sneaking off somewhere but he blinks as if he’s never been scolded in the same way, his smile slipping for a moment. Your words are no harsher than they’d usually be but it seems they’ve finally started to break through the shell of adoration he’s formed around himself. Of all your aspiring mates he is one that has lasted the longest, clinging to even the thinnest thread of hope that you might one day share in his laughter or return a flirting remark. Instead you’ve remained steadfast in your rejection. In the days to come you can only hope he will fall away and shun you like the others, scorned and embarrassed by their own insistence that they’d be the exception. His mood only worsens, smile falling completely, when your son’s voice carries down the path towards the two of you.   

Ketsräno stands with his brother at his side, both their faces drawn tight in a show of hostility. Ao’nung has his spear in hand, ears drawn back as he glowers at the man beside you. Tayku is closer to his age, an old playmate and friend that slowly fell away as his responsibilities expanded. It is easy to see why neither of your sons would be happy to find an old acquaintance lingering close to their mother. 

“Ma Sempul is asking for you.” Ketsräno says, eyes not leaving Tayku’s face. A heaving sigh empties your lungs. Returning to the village has been one inconvenience strung after another like beads choked around your throat. It had been your hope to return home and go over all of the morning’s findings, but the wind has seen fit to blow you from one discomfort to the next. Tonowari is one of the people you’d least like to see today aside from these men flocking to you like hì’ikran over a dead fish. His sentiment towards you seems to have soured lately and you aren’t keen on subjecting yourself to his sullen mood. But the summons seem to keep Tayku at bay, at the very least. Any man with love for his life would be too afraid to follow you into the akula’s den Tonowari’s home has become in regards to you. Or perhaps he simply isn’t keen on testing your sons as they part to allow you past before meeting shoulder to shoulder once more, a clear sign for their old friend to keep his distance. 

They’re fiercely protective of both you and Ronal. It’s your hope that you’ll find the tsahìk at home beside her husband but there is no such grace upon your arrival. The marui is deserted save for the olo’eyktan sitting just inside the entrance whittling away at a piece of gnarled driftwood. 

A glance at the sun still sitting at its peak in the sky tells you none of your children will be joining their father for many hours to come. Tsireya will be teaching the village children, and Ao’nung and Ketsräno will likely have returned to their own chores. If Eywa is kind Ronal might return to relieve some of the tension already beginning to fill the home. Emotional discord incites her temper. As tsahìk she empathizes in a way that runs far deeper than anyone else and the labor on her soul is nearly exhausting at times. Her tolerance for such things in her own home has dwindled to nothingness with her pregnancy. If your silent prayers are heard Ronal will return shortly and send you away before Tonowari can finish saying his piece. Because he seems to be in no rush to speak to you despite asking for you as wood shavings gather at his feet. It must be his expectation that you’ll speak first, a trap for him to find something to pick at you for. You tighten your satchel over your chest and hope he won’t ask about its contents as you go about making a purposeful formal greeting. 

“Oel ngati kameie, olo’eyktan.” You bow far lower than necessary and watch Tonowari’s lip twitch with displeasure. “Your son said that you were looking for me. How may I be of service, nawmtu?” It’s a thinly veiled dig and he knows it. There’s no reason for such formalities between the two of you. You may not be his mate but he is still the father of your child and that affords you some privileges when it comes to speaking with him. Purposefully invoking formal speech is a slight against him, as if he is a stranger to you, a clan leader and nothing more. At last he sets aside the wood he’s carved into a lethal point and sheathes his knife, standing to his full height. His jaw is set, muscles flicking beneath the ink of his tattoos. 

“‘Nawmtu?’” His tone is curt, brows knit tight as he stares down at you. 

“Have I said something wrong?” He nods with soured understanding at your coy question, clearly not pleased with your sudden lack of sense. He stands aside and nods for you to enter and you bow in thanks despite having entered his home many times with no permission needed. This is the place your son was raised, of course you have long since been given leave to come and go as you please. And yet you stand just inside the entrance, feet not moving a step further until Tonowari pulls the covering shut to be sure your meeting won’t be disturbed. Any hope of Ronal coming to dissuade her mate’s brewing anger is dissipated with the closing of the curtain.

Without the uncovered entrance the marui has gone somewhat dark, only the faintest light filtering through the blue membrane woven into the curved wall. It’s not so dark that you can’t see but just dim enough that Tonowari’s tanhì have come to life. Anxiety curls in your stomach like stinging tendrils. What had you done to make him so upset with you that he wants no one to stumble upon this conversation? Many nights have been wasted worrying over what could’ve made him turn so cold towards you in recent times, and many more days were lost returning the bitter feelings he has given you. The love you thought you had for each other has withered on the vine, leaving only this angry awkwardness in its wake. At least Ronal is still kind, still loving, albeit more distant than before. 

If he will not speak on it you will not ask. So the two of you stand in the dusky room, eyeing each other with no words to say. He has called you here. If he wants to speak you’ll hear him, but it won’t be your voice that sparks the embers simmering between you. 

“Sit.” He says at last. His voice is stripped of any emotion. There’s only the blunt command of a man above your rank. Your knees find the woven floor and your teeth nip at your lip, biting near to bursting to keep your less than polite remarks at bay. It’s clear his patience with your attitude has thinned beyond salvaging. It feels as if you’re a child at your parent’s feet, waiting to be scolded for unruly behavior despite your age. You’ve aged far beyond reproach, but no matter your relations Tonowari is still olo’eyktan. 

“There are no eyes but mine to see you now, so let this song and dance be finished.” He expects that your attitude will dissipate because he asked it of you? After weeks of animosity he wants to call off your ire with only a few words. Not even an apology for forcing you to anger. It’s almost insulting how sure he seems of your complacency. He walks to sit behind you and you flinch at the feeling of his hand brushing behind your ear. First one then the other as he removes the dried fish fins you weave into your hair. The style is reminiscent of how forest Na’vi adorn their hair with feathers, though it’s a rarer style to find in Awa’atlu. Still, in recent times you’ve noticed younger women beginning to favor your hair ornaments and clothing. Likely in the hopes of catching one of the men trying their hardest to court you. The thought of Tayku and the rest willfully ignoring girls that would happily be courted only further sours your mood and distracts you enough that Tonowari’s hand brushing against the nape of your neck startles you. 

“What is on your mind that you’re so distant from me?” His voice rolls like thunder through the dark pod as he begins to comb through your hair, carefully unwinding any tangles he finds. So it’s you that wedged this distance between you? It also must have been you that started this battle of poorly concealed anger. How can you be faulted for your distance when it was he who first sent you away with his sudden lack of kindness?

“Where is Ronal?” It is not what you mean to say but it’s the only thought plaguing your mind aside from the resentment festering in your heart. 

“Ronal?” He seems taken aback. “I’ve called you here and you are thinking of her? How far your heart has gone from me.” 

“It isn’t me who put this distance between us.” You say bitterly. It is not your place to be faulted for his own lack of accountability. 

“No?” He doesn’t sound convinced. If anything he sounds more incensed than he had been before. “I’ve been hearing things recently, talk among the People.”

“There is always talk in the village.” It’s how days are passed. Idle chatting about small squabbles and other petty drama between people. Family rivalries persist through generations, childhood rifts persist through the years, age old stories are told to warn younglings against the mistakes of the past. Talk never ceases, it rolls in and out like the tide, constantly renewing with more things to whisper and laugh over while cooking or fishing. The elders of the village are far more intune with the business of everyone else, but it isn’t so surprising that things have gotten back to Tonowari. It is his job to keep the clan in harmony and he can’t do that if he allows conflicts to fester without at least a small acknowledgement. 

“Yes, there is always talk, but very seldom does it involve your name.”

“But it isn’t surprising if it does.” Whatever gossip has spread with your name linked to it can hardly be of consequence. “Is someone questioning my abilities as a tattooist? I’ve heard Wepxtil has gotten better at his craft as of late. If he wants to spread word that his abilities have eclipsed mine I don’t care enough to stop him.” You’re one of the most renowned tattooists in the clan and many people carry your marks on their skin. The elders have said that hands like yours are only born once every few generations. If someone wants to question your abilities they’ll simply have to ask Eywa why she has blessed you so graciously. 

“It isn’t about your tattoos. No one would believe that someone that just passed his rites could rival your abilities. It is about other names that have been spoken in the same breath as yours. Rumors of your future.” 

“Speak clearly then.” You’re growing tired of his words swimming in circles. 

“There is talk of you wanting another child.” He says it as if he’s swallowed poison, like the words sting his tongue as he speaks. 

“Is that all? It is the truth. I want another child. Ketsräno is a man now. He doesn’t need his mothers to dote on him as Ronal and I used to. My nest will be empty once he finds a mate. I want a new baby to love. Seeing Ronal pregnant again has made me miss motherhood. She looks so happy. I’m jealous.” The last part is said in jest as an attempt to lighten the heaviness in the air. You could never be jealous of Ronal. She is strong and beautiful, yes, but she is your equal in family matters. Your hearts share a bond that is deeper than simple friendship. Her children are yours in all but blood. You’ve raised them as your own just as she has raised your son. There is only love between you. Or there had been before this sudden rift. Tonowari doesn’t seem to hear the joke in your voice. His hands fall still in your hair. 

“Jealous?” 

“Not truly.” You rush, trying to keep the exasperation from your voice. “I only meant that seeing her pregnant again has brought back cherished memories. I’m not too old to have another. I would like to have at least one more.” 

“So it’s true. You want another child.”

“Why are you treating this as if it is a problem? I expected that you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy?” His anger bubbles over at last. His hands fall away from their idle combing and he stands to pace, tail strained tight with tension. “How can I find happiness when you try to keep this from me? I didn’t hear these words from your own mouth, I had to hear them from others.” 

“I hadn’t thought it mattered to tell you. I was going to see about any unmated men of the clan that showed interest before asking for another match from the elders. Though I suppose I should’ve gone to the elders as I had before, or at least asked Ronal of her opinion. Trying to find a match myself has been like catching fish in a torn net.” Which is to say it has been a failure, time and time again. The men your age had overlooked you once before or you turned away their offers of courtship for one reason or another. In the years since Ketsräno’s birth your options have only continued to dwindle. Now it feels as if you’re trying to reap crops from infertile land. 

“You still have not mentioned speaking to me about this.”

“What need would I have of your advice? I respect your word, of course, but fertility matches are matters for tsahìk and the elders. Olo’eyktan was not needed for my last match.” His insistence surprises you. Tonowari has been a strong and magnanimous leader since he was named olo’eyktan but he has always known his place, deferring to Ronal and consulting with village elders on things that were beyond his years of wisdom. Never have you known him to dip his hand into things that were of no concern to his position. He shifts to kneel before you, body moving with the tight precision of a bow being drawn. Tension has gathered on his shoulders beneath his mantle of akula teeth. 

“What need?” He tilts his head in a way you recognize, ears quirking upwards in interest as he assumes the tone he’d always use when the children asked him a simple question. It was slow and understanding of their lack of knowledge. For him to turn it on you as if you know nothing of what you speak about is patronizing. At last your distaste can’t be quelled and your lips pull back to show the points of your teeth. Instead of heeding the obvious show of hostility Tonowari laughs. It’s short and humorless but a chuckle nonetheless. 

Heat flashes across your cheeks, down your neck, and up your ears as they pull tight against your head. The loud hiss that accompanies the burst of hot embarrassment is perhaps the first you’ve ever directed at Tonowari. There’s never been a need to snap at him aside from a few dissatisfied scoffs when his words are just a touch too cruel when the children have misbehaved, though you’re admittedly the least strict of the three of you. Still it’s well deserved now as he treats you as if you’re a child for not confiding in him something that was none of his concern. Perhaps you might’ve told him when you found a match as you would’ve everyone else close to you, but now, before decisions have been made? He has no part in it.

You draw in a deep breath through your nose before pushing it out of your chest. “Apologize. Now.”

“You want an apology?” His tone isn’t as cruel now. Instead he sounds disbelieving as if demanding anything of him is beyond what he expected of your audacity. 

“Yes, I want an apology. You’ve been speaking to me with such disdain as if I’ve done something wrong for making a change in my life! It hasn’t even come to pass and here you are shaming me for going about it in a way that doesn’t suit your tastes. Apologize and tell me plainly what you want to say. I can’t know your mind if you do not share it with me.” The two of you are not mates, you do not share the deep emotional bond that forms when tsaheylu is made. Perhaps Ronal as tsahìk and his mate could parse what has been eating at his spirit but you aren’t so enlightened to his deepest thoughts. If he has something weighing on his mind the only way to share it is through words. Not this callous critiquing and avoiding he’s taken to. 

Tonowari sits back on his heels, no longer leaning towards you as he seems to mull over your words. His eyes linger on your face as if he’s trying to trace the shape of your pil with his gaze. It would almost be disheartening, his silence, if you didn’t know him to be a man of carefully considered words. In all things he is calm and collected. Striking only when a target is within reach and speaking only when he’s sure of his words. 

“I’m disappointed.” He says at last. 

“Disappointed?” Your voice is pitched with disbelief. “Because I want an apology after the way you’ve been treating me?” 

“Because you can’t seem to imagine why I would want to be told about this.” He still doesn’t sound angry. He rarely is. But he truly does sound incredulous as his lips pinch together to stave off the smile curling at the corners of his mouth. If he’d been truly upset before, the feeling has passed like a storm. Now he seems amused as he watches you work through your thoughts. He’s speaking in riddles, words tied into knots for you to try to unravel. 

“Is this because of Ketsräno?” At last a gentler expression finds the olo’eyktan’s face. 

“In part, yes, this is because of our son.” The way he says it is more possessive than you’ve ever known him to be. Our son. A reminder that the two of you will always be intrinsically linked no matter the paths you choose to walk. Still, you can’t fully understand his meaning. 

“What about our son? I have no interest in any of his old friends that have been fawning over me if that is your worry.” 

He frowns. “They should not be trying to court you.” 

“I’ve made my disinterest known but they’re rather persistent. It’s almost insulting that they think I would entertain their advances even for a moment.” 

“I agree, they’re reaching far beyond their place. But it would stop if you made your choice. I can be of assistance if you would only let me.” 

“Then who would you suggest?” He seems taken about by your requests for a name as if he hadn’t just offered his insight in the matter. When you say nothing more he nods slowly as if he’s made a decision he doesn’t wish to share.

“If you don’t know then I don’t wish to speak of it any longer. Clearly our hearts aren’t as closely aligned as I once thought we were.” He decides. 

“If you don’t wish to speak then I’ll leave. No sense in us sitting here exchanging barbs. You won’t tell me what you truly want to say and I’m not going to force it from you. It’s clear neither of us are in a place to speak kindly with one another.” He stands as you do, and for a moment you expect him to stand in your way. He doesn’t but seems to think better of it as his hand catches your shoulder before you can push the covering aside. With the petulance of a child you wrench your shoulder free of his hand only to tear your satchel as the overencumbered fabric finally gives way under the harsh movement. Crystals, shells, pearls, and eggs spill over the floor, leaving a glittering heap at your feet. For a moment you simply stand there, not even looking down to acknowledge the mess that’s been made of your collection. When at last you look down Tonowari is already there collecting what he can into his hands, pausing when he picks up one of the eggs. He stands, staring at the small egg in his palm.

“How many times have I asked you to stay out of their nests?” He asks slowly, fist curling around the hardened shell. It won’t burst as a fertile egg would but there’s a fear that his hold will be enough to shatter it as his knuckles begin to pale with the tightness of his grip. You ignore him and gather what you can in your hands, fully intending to leave without another word. He doesn’t allow you. Instead he lifts your chin with a gentle hand, blue eyes burning into yours. 

“You never listen.” He says softly. “What if you’d been hurt?”

“I wasn’t. I am not a child. I can take care of myself.” You say hotly despite the common knowledge that the ocean holds beauty and danger in equal parts. On another day you might’ve heeded his words as a gentle reminder to take care of yourself and not sprint into danger, but today you only hear incessant insults. 

“You’re acting like a child.” He snaps, anger finally rushing forward. You scoff, stepping back away from his touch. With your salvaged treasures held tight to your chest you turn to leave. He calls after you, drawing eyes to watch you stride purposefully away from him. Here is more kindle for their fire. How the rumors will grow with whispers of strife between you and Tonowari. No one but your family has seen the growing tensions between the two of you and now it’s laid bare for all to see. The prying eyes allow you the courtesy of pretending not to see either of you as he storms back inside, not bothering to follow you. His stubbornness is a blessing as you retreat home with all the dignity of a finless fish. 

What has changed? What has gone so wrong that Tonowari seems perturbed by your every decision. The first instances of his more callous attitude trace back to when you’d idly mentioned having another child while fishing in the terraces. The seawall has always been a breeding pool for village gossip and it doesn’t surprise you that rumors have sprung up like flowers in the wake of your thoughtless banter. He must’ve hoarded the knowledge to himself, let it poison his every thought of you until it all came rushing forward at once. 

There’s a braided band of flowers waiting just outside the marui when you return home and you nudge it inside with your foot, quickly drawing your own coverings to properly wallow in your thoughts by your lonesome. The treasures you salvaged from the floor are dumped unceremoniously into a basket. Some had gotten left behind but you don’t even want to look at what you’d managed to save. Instead you focus on cooking. Lighting a fire and gathering ingredients to keep your mind from wandering. 

Ketsräno doesn’t come home even when the evening deepens to night. It isn’t anything out of the ordinary, him not joining you to eat. Most meals are taken in communal eating areas or with the entire family. It is you that hasn’t been where you’re expected to be of late, the shared hostility driving you away from the simple comforts of a family meal. Instead you eat in silence, watching the dying embers of the cookfire. The night isn’t quite deep enough to sleep but you’re exhausted both physically and mentally. 

Tomorrow will be spent close to home, perhaps sequestered away just as you are now, with chores that keep you away from anyone else. Leaving home would mean facing your foolhardy suitors and disgruntled olo’eyktan. Neither sound appealing as you go about straightening the marui in the fading firelight before unfurling your bedroll, keen to be done with the day. You’ve only just laid down when someone enters the pod. Expecting that it’s your son returning from his meal, you simply roll away from the light coming through the parted covering, intent on falling asleep as quickly as possible. The blue light of Naranawm disappears just as quickly as it appears in the corner of your eye as the curtain is drawn once more. When no word of a greeting comes you know it isn’t your son. After a moment the marui swells with flickering light despite your groaning protests. 

“I am sleeping.” You complain, pulling the dark curls of your hair across your eyes in a vain attempt to shun the low light now filling your home. 

“Not deeply enough to stop you from speaking.” Ronal tuts. “I come to comfort you and you can’t spare me a single look?” Of course it’s her that has come for an unannounced visit. Where was she when you needed her earlier to help mitigate her mate’s bitter attitude? 

“What do you want, Ronal?” You sigh, finally sitting up to look at her. You needed her with you before, now you shun her presence as she stands beside the shell torch she’s lit with the forgotten wreath of flowers in her hand. It sets her hair alight with a wash of amber light that plays across the thick waves, green eyes paling in the orange light as she scowls at the gift. Distasteful fingers pluck at the flowers before she tosses it down. More petals fall when it lands but she hardly seems interested in the mess she’s made of one of your courting gifts. Truthfully, don’t want that gift or any of the others but there was still work that went into crafting it for you. Maybe you’d kicked it earlier but it deserves better treatment than being torn at by Ronal’s judging fingers. The gift and the boy that left it for you deserve better than your scorn. 

“I want you to be rid of your anger, firstly.” She frowns. “I’ve only just arrived. You have no reason to be upset with me. If you have anger you’d better dispel it before you decide to turn that venomous tongue against me.” 

In most things you and the tsahìk are perfectly matched. That includes a shared propensity for sharp retorts, though Ronal seems to keep her brashness reserved for you in specific. Perhaps because you’re the only one that won’t startle at her blunt responses. Her tongue is sharp as an arrowhead when she means it to be and she won’t spare you from a verbal sparring match if you provoke her. She’s likely to trade jabs with you long into the night if you think to turn your dour mood against her. Though she’s stirred your irritation simply by coming to disturb your peace when it was clear from the shut covering that you want to be left alone for the night. 

You stifle another sigh, letting the anger rush away from you in a deep exhale. “I’m sorry. Did you want something?” 

“I want nothing, it’s you that wants something. Another child, I’ve heard.” It isn’t a question. She means to tell you she already knows what it is that’s upset you and that she’s here to rectify the situation. She and Tonowari must’ve had time to themselves before the children returned home for the night. Ronal wouldn’t dare to raise such a topic of conversation where their ears could hear of their parents’ quarreling, though this goes far beyond the typical spats shared throughout the years. This will set a rift between the three of you that might never be bridged or mended. 

“I do,” your tone is careful, “though it seems my desire has disappointed everyone.” Ronal turns towards you with a swiftness, long skirt twirling around her legs as she snaps at you. 

“Skxawng. Sometimes I think you are willfully wrong.” The heel of her hand thumps your temple when you stand, as if she’s expecting something to rattle loose inside your head. All it earns her is a warning oìsss as you smack her hand away, temper flaring once more.

“Is it my lack of sense or everyone’s lack of explanation?” I snap. “Everyone seems upset but no one will tell me why. May the Great Mother guide me because I do not know what to do anymore.” 

“Ask.” She says it as if you’ve yet to think of such a solution. 

“Ask? That is all?” She stares patiently, emptily. Enough to draw a scowl to your lips. “Alright, Ronal, what do you suggest I do?” Her ear twitches at your sardonic tone but she seems to accept your words as a genuine plea for help. And it is, because you’re desperate to return your life to some semblance of peace. To do away with the pesky suitors and despondent looks from those around you. 

“You are asking for a fertility match?” This is hardly the formal environment in which you first kneeled before the previous tsahìk and passed on elders all those years ago, but Ronal is still tsahìk and she can make a ruling on the matter despite the lax environment. When you confirm your wish she hums. 

“I have already chosen someone suitable for you, if you’ll have him.”

You’re hardly convinced. “Who?”

“Tonowari.” She says easily. Your heart turns to stone in your chest, the weight of it dropping to your stomach. A flash of something cold prickles across your skin like an ocean spray as humiliation warms your cheeks. 

“Don’t mock me!” For a moment you truly thought that she had come to offer her guidance as tsahìk but even now she is clearly teasing, trying to further incite your ire. What had you done that both of the people you hold dearest seek to toy with you in this way. A prickling heat rises behind your eyes as tears begin to blur the edges of your vision. All these years of love and compassion and they’re tossing it aside to tease you for daring to want something more in this life. Ketsräno is all you have that is truly yours and even he is shared with his father. Soon he’ll slip between your fingers, passed from one hand to another as he makes his own path and finds his rightful place among the clan. Is it such an awful thing that you want to go through the journey again? Raising your son has been your greatest honor, more than any glory you’ve received within the clan. You were meant to be a mother and they’re mocking you for it. 

“Get out.” Ronal seems surprised, ears flicking upward as her brows rise in disbelief. “Get out!” 

“No.” She sounds astonished that you’d ask her to leave. 

“Leave! Get out and leave me be!” You aren’t shouting, not yet, mindful that the woven walls aren’t thick enough to trap your voice inside if you speak too loud. 

“Mawey, paskalin.” The term of endearment is hardly mollifying but you gather yourself even so. Anger has turned to sadness and all you want is to be left alone. By Ronal, by Tayku. Everyone. The chaffed heels of your hands are rough against your cheeks as you dry your tears. Ronal pulls your hands away from your face to lead you to your bedroll, pulling you down to sit in front her. Slowly she releases your hands in favor of holding your face. Her thumbs are soft as they brush away the stray tears still beading in your eyes. 

“Ease your storm.” Her voice is low as a roll of thunder though you can’t decide if the rain is coming or going. Going it would seem, as she holds your face like a precious stone between her hands. 

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Why have you lost faith in us?” Us. As if Tonowari didn’t look to be cursing your name the last you saw him. You left him. Walked away without a second glance as if he meant nothing. A bridge has two sides and both of you have burned them in turn. 

“You have been hurting me at every turn in recent days. Where were you earlier? Surely you knew Tonowari was going to express his anger eventually and you left me with him to drown. At least if you had come to send me away I wouldn’t be so upset now.”

“So it is my fault that Tonowari wished to tell you his feelings? He is a grown man–your olo’eyktan and father of your son–if he wants to air his grievances with you, that is no business of mine. Do not put the blame on me for his actions.” 

“The same way you aren’t blaming me? Because it certainly feels like there is no one else in the world you’d rather snap at than me. What bond can we have if it frays so easily? Son or not, there is no us. Both of you have made that plain to see. There is me and then there’s you and Tonowari. I regret that I spent so long thinking otherwise.”

Ronal tilts her head impatiently. “You don’t believe that.”

“No? Why shouldn’t I when all either of you has done for the past weeks is belittle and mock me for something you would never begrudge another woman? Tonowari acts as though I am stupid for not knowing what he won’t say and doing as I please. And now you’re here to tell me I’m wrong, too. I don’t want to hear it anymore, so, please, leave. Leave so we can move on from this. You are still tsahìk. I will always respect you as such but right now I’m not certain my heart can take being so close to you.” 

Ronal looks as though you’ve struck her across the face, green eyes growing wider with each passing word. For a moment you expect her to stand and storm out, to go back to her home and her family and be done with you as you’ve requested. Instead she sits in silence. Her face is guarded as you try to read her thoughts through the subtle shifting of her muscles. The firelight doesn’t help as it throws shifting shadows over the shape of her face, hollowing her cheeks one moment and darkening her eyes the next. When at last she speaks her voice is doleful,

“We’ve hurt you. It was never our intention and it pains my heart to know your hurt was done by my own hand.” She won’t cry, she’s too resolute for that, but the upset is evident in her voice. “But, you’ve hurt us, too.” Perhaps you have caused them grief lashing out the way you have but it doesn’t absolve them of anything. Biting the hand that stabbed you doesn’t heal your own wounds. 

“We’ve become clouded so let me say this and clear the air; Tonowari and I have given our souls to each other as mates. Before Eywa, tsaheylu was made. This is known.” You nod, unsure of what she’s trying to say. 

“A mating bond is made by choice. A choice you have decided to never make. We know this. But it is not the only way to be bound to someone. There are vows and oaths, bonds made through words and actions. And you made that bond when you didn’t estrange Tonowari from his son, when you allowed me to raise Ketsräno with you. A fertility match is usually forgotten when one partner finds a mate, but you felt no such need to shun us or hide yourself away. You stayed by our side from the moment you were matched.” Her hand brushes the edge of your shoulder as she reaches behind you to draw your tswin forward. Her fingers are gentle as they trace the weave of your hair wrapped tight around the sensitive nerves within. 

“Your first tsaheylu is with your mother.” She’s suddenly quieter, eyes distant as she winds your thick braid between careful fingers. “I remember when Ketsräno was born. You were tired but you smiled brighter than I’d ever seen as you held your son and made the first bond, and you didn’t rest until you’d seen Tonowari and I bond with him, as well. I thought from that moment on we all acknowledged our place in each others’ hearts.” 

The day is one you will remember for the rest of your life. Ketsräno had come early in the day, just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. Most of the night had been spent warring against the pain in the shallows, squeezing tight to Tonowari’s hands as he held you and Ronal tended to what he couldn’t. It had been only the three of you and your spirit sister until you were far enough to call the clan to witness the birth of a new life. Your cheeks were sticky with tears by the time Ketsräno came at last into the pink light of dawn, legs kicking to the surface as he made easy work of his First Breath. There was the usual whooping and cheering but you didn’t truly hear any of it, far too enamored with your little son. 

It was a moment meant to be shared with the clan but all that mattered to you was the family gathered around you. There was exhaustion and blinding happiness filling your head and then the gentle thrum of Ketsräno’s vitra as you made the first tsaheylu. There hadn’t been a thought in your mind in regards to what allowing Tonowari and Ronal to bond with Ketsräno would mean, and now you are dealing with the consequences of your addled decisions so many years later. In that moment you had treated the olo’eyktan and tsahìk as your mates and continued every moment after. You don’t regret it, not for a moment, but you loathe your own ignorance. Tears begin to burn anew in your eyes as you recognize your mistake. 

“I’m sorry.” Over one misunderstanding you had nearly burned your world to the ground. “I’m sorry, Ronal.”

“Hear me now, paskalin. Listen well because I don’t want to have to repeat this ever again.” Her tone is strict but not without her own stern sort of affection. “Oel ngati kameie. Nga yawne lu oer. I will say this once and you will carry it in your heart for the rest of your life; we are yours, and you are ours.” You know it. A hidden piece of your heart has always known that even if you never found a mate you would be content with your life with Ronal and Tonowari. But they’re mated with each other. Of course you never considered you could fit in a place where two halves already made a whole. 

“Tonowari has been in love with you from the moment he was set to be your fertility match. His love for you was easy. I didn’t earn his affections so easily, you remember.” You do. Being olo’eyktan or tsahìk is a heavy burden to bear and while Ronal always did so with grace it was plain to your eyes as someone close to both of them that their love took some time to blossom. They were awkward with each other, stepping lightly to avoid any upset before finding their standing as a mated couple. Ao’nung and the rest followed soon after. So strange that two arrangements had such different results. Or perhaps not seeing as the three of you managed to tie your hearts together in the end. Though you never considered your place in their lives to be valued in the same way they regarded each other. Clearly you’d been wrong all these years. 

She leans in close to rest her forehead against yours and heat builds in the space between your lips as you breathe against each other. It’s a familiar sort of closeness that you’ve neglected to think could ever mean more than a close bond of friendship and parenthood. The tip of her nose draws across your flushed skin, brushing through your drying tears as she nuzzles against you. Her breath is warm against your cheeks as she takes in the scent of your skin, kissing the ripples of your pil until her lips find yours. They’re soft and warm and she tastes of sweet juice. The kiss is fleeting and precious. 

“Oel ngati kameie.” The words are whispered against her lips as she kisses you again. How long have you spent saying such words when you hadn’t truly seen what was right before your eyes. So many years wasted considering yourself an accessory to their bond when, in their minds, you had always been included. How much you have missed trying to live freely and save your heart the ache of abandonment when everything you could ever want was already within reach. Your fingers trace over the tattoo etched around the shape of her and curling high on her cheekbone. She hums quietly, eyes falling shut as she pulls you as close as her stomach will allow. The torch she lit is still burning but it gives you light to see her by as she falls asleep beneath your gentle touches. You resolve to speak with Tonowari when you wake, to try to mend the hole you’ve torn in your lives. 

It’s easier said than done, though, because when the sun rises and Ronal with it you find yourself hesitant to approach Tonowari. Dawn turns to day and you find your hands busy in places the olo’eyktan would have no reason to be. By the time the sun has reached its peak in the sky you’re busying yourself in Tsireya’s shadow, assisting her in teaching the children. She seems grateful for the added guidance you can offer, never asking what possessed you to suddenly want to stay so close to the village when midday usually finds you far beyond the terraces, hunting or frolicking on some lesser traveled islands. Weaving is easier work than hunting, not as strenuous of a task, as you teach the younglings the different types of braids and knots that make their homes and clothing. When the sun begins to set the children scatter home and you realize the day has been wasted without you speaking a single word to Tonowari. Tsireya keeps up a pleasant conversation as the two of you straighten up the marui used for teaching, collecting dropped beads and setting aside the childrens’ weavings. 

“Txa’ro shows a lot of promise, I think.” She hums happily. “She learned the arrowhead pattern quite quickly.” You nod, though your mind is far off. If any student showed any outstanding capability today you hardly noticed it. The whole day has passed in a haze like fog has settled before your eyes. Last night was like a dream, a short breath before the waves crashed over you once more. If your daughter is bothered by your uncharacteristic silence she doesn’t mention it, simply carrying the conversation herself as you follow her absently through the village only to stop once a familiar marui comes into view. It feels as though your feet are caught in mud, sucking you into the bouncing path as Tsireya continues on, happily chatting until she realizes you’re no longer beside her. 

“Ma Sa’nok?” She reaches towards you, expecting that you’ll move to take her hand, and her face falls when you don’t. Both of you stand watching each other until finally Tsireya nods and says good night, finishing the trek home by herself. It pains you to see your daughter upset and distant but you can’t bring yourself to face her father. Not yet. Instead you go in the opposite direction with no destination in mind. You walk until you run out of woven paths and the air no longer carries the scent of dinners being made, until you reach the fringes of the village where the beach is deserted. 

This isn’t how the day was meant to end but it ends all the same as you sit and watch Naranawm’s shadow swallow the sun. Soon the eclipse will break into deep night and you’ll return home without having shared a single word with Tonowari. So strange that is. There were once days when the two of you could be parted for only a few hours, for as long as chores demanded it and not a moment more. But that was when the children were young and needy for their parents’ attention. Now they’re old enough to deal with things on their own without your guidance. The sand is soft as you lay back to stare at the sky until it goes dark as your eyes drift shut. They don’t open again until you feel the sand shift beside you. It’s different than a rising tide swelling around you and you turn your head towards the disturbance. 

Tonowari sits beside you, lit in deep shades of blue beneath the night sky. He isn’t looking at you yet. Instead his eyes are fixed in the far distance, on the dark silhouette of the seawall where the terrace pools are lit with rippling syuratan. When he finally looks at you his eyes are filled with a foreign sort of longing. It’s a strange expression to see on his face. Tonowari has never been known to put his desires before anything else, if anything his wants and needs can be forgotten and buried if it means peace and prosperity for the clan. His role as olo’eyktan is put before everything in his life. Every clan needs a leader and Tonowari and Ronal both uphold their roles with the utmost care, never straying from the path Eywa has set for them. Seeing him look so lost within himself would be mystifying if you didn’t know the cause of his clouded mind. It’s in the reflection of his blue eyes, the pattern of your glowing freckles appearing like aysnatanhì in his forlorn gaze. You’re the reason for this and it feels like a knife to your heart and you desperately want to heal the wounds you’ve caused. 

“I’m sorry.” It isn’t enough but you say it anyway. Sorry is for stepping on someone’s tail or being too rough during training. It’s for small disagreements. Not something like this. Still you want to cling to the idea that what’s broken can be fixed with enough patience and attention. Tonowari seems to share the sentiment as he brushes the sand from your hair as you sit up, fingers tracing down your arm until he can bring your hand to his lips. It isn’t a kiss. Not truly. He presses his lips against your knuckles like he’s trying to see if you’re truly here before him. He seems soothed when you don’t turn to smoke before his eyes. 

“Don’t.” He says before you can further embarrass yourself with meager words of atonement. “Don’t apologize.” Your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. Apologies are all you have to give. If he won’t accept them then perhaps this distance can never be bridged again. 

“May I speak plainly?” You’ve never asked his permission to speak as bluntly as you do, but Tonowari is always considerate, even when it is undeserving. He takes a while to speak after you nod your acquiescence as if he’s weighing his words to see which will sit heaviest on your heart. Even in his anger he can find a moment to be kind. 

“You’re the most difficult woman I’ve ever met.” He says at last. It doesn’t sting as much as you’d expect it to. It’s a sentiment you’ve heard your entire life. Too brash, too harsh, too willful. Of course people will find you difficult but it’s the first time Tonowari has said it so plainly. 

“Ronal may not mind having to fight with you and wrangle you like an untamed beast, but I do. I only want to love you but you make it so hard for me. If I get too close you pull away. It feels like I am fighting to keep you by my side. And then you say–” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You say you want another child and you don’t come to me for this. You flaunt yourself around the village as if I cannot give you what you’ve asked for. I can. I will. You just have to let me. That is all I want.” 

“I didn’t know.” It’s hardly an excuse but it is the truth. Tonowari stiffens beside you, lips pressing into a firm line.

“Didn’t know?” He glowers, ears pulling back before he calms himself. “Then let me tell you so that you know. From today onward, paskalin, let there be no more confusion. I love you. As a husband loves his wife, I love you. I know you do not wish to be mated. I understand your heart. But you are my mate even still. You belong to me and I belong to you. Just as I belong to Ronal. Just as you belong to her. And if you want children I will give them to you. No one else.” He bares his teeth though there’s no one but you to see his show of possessive aggression. 

It’s so strange to hear him want something so desperately. Tonowari has always done what is expected of him. For the good of the People he has always thought of the clan before himself. To hear him almost begging for this allowance to be selfish, it lights a fire inside you. 

“I don’t care about them. Tayku and the rest,” Tonowari scowls at the sound of the boy’s name, “I never wanted them.”

“Then what do you want?” You’re reminded that beyond his duties as a leader, Tonowari is a warrior. He pulls you into his lap with great strength, one hand keeping your eyes on his as the other holds your waist. 

“I want this.” You whisper. “I want you.” 

His lips burn as they meet yours in a deep kiss, searing the promise you’ve made into your memory. The night air is warm but you shiver as Tonowari’s hands trace across your skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close with him and it overwhelms you as he pulls you tight against him and whispers sweet promises over your parted lips. You whine as his fangs nip over your neck, tongue tracing the shape of your tattoos until he finally settles against your chest. He noses at the delicate shells of your draping top, breath puffing against your heated skin. His blunt nails drag down your exposed back to your hips, pulling you harder against him. His intentions are clear and you’re more than happy to comply as he toys with the knots keeping you covered. You’re far enough from the village that no one will stumble upon the two of you as he lays you bare beneath the stars.

The hardest part passes with the rising of the sun but there is still work to be done before things can truly be as they should between the three of you. Hunting is strenuous but there is always more to do after the beast is slain and prayers are said in its honor. There is cleaning, skinning, cutting, cooking, and preserving even after that. The hunt is not over until even the bones of the animal are put to some use. The renewed and deepened intimacy with the olo’eyktan and tsahìk is hardly enough to heal the pain amassed over many years. A wound needs to be tended not ignored lest it bleed you dry. It was nearing that point, would’ve surely reached it had you gone through with letting another man father your newest child. The strained bond would’ve been shattered to splinters beyond salvaging but as it stands you can manage to slowly place the pieces back together. 

It is a slow walk to where you want to be, but each step brings all of you closer. At first it’s only small things; Ronal stealing kisses in secluded places and Tonowari lingering near you far more than necessary. They’re more protective now as if they’re worried someone will come along to trample on your budding affections. It’s all new to you, this deeper sort of courtship as you’ve never allowed anyone to go beyond the point of flattery and gifts. The fierce loyalty is to be expected. In truth you’ve never been loyal to anyone besides them. Even before your confessions and admissions of love you never bothered to be closer than friends with anyone. To be doted on so openly soothes the bruised piece of your heart still agonizing over being left behind if they grow tired of you. In so many years their feelings have remained unflinching for each other, and for you. It’s a nagging feeling you wish to starve out of your mind. Eywa has graced you with two people you adore and who love you with equal fervor in return. Tsaheylu or not the three of you have been mated since you laid with Tonowari beneath the night sky. 

Things have finally fallen back into place. Ronal still bites back at every curt remark you make and Tonowari still worries anytime you’re too far from home. But there is no more edge of awkwardness as you hesitate to kiss Tonowari or lean against Ronal. Bashfulness is unneeded when they revel in your tentative touches. Their affections manifest differently, Ronal being more subtle as Tonowari is more boastful, but you learn to balance yourself between the two of them. Ronal won’t ask for a kiss. She will simply stare at your lips until you offer one. Tonowari acts instinctually, wrapping you in his arms the moment the desire rises. It swirls new rumors of the clan leaders’ mate though many simply laugh over how long it’s taken you to accept the title they all called you in secret. It dizzies your head to know that it had been only you standing in the way of your happiness, clawing and hissing when no one meant to harm you. How foolish you’d been to run from your feelings when they were so plainly reciprocated. All that pain suffered and inflicted with no reason for it. The thought weighs heavy on your heart, ears lowering as you mull over your work. 

“Enough.” Ronal says just as quickly as the regret begins to creep in. The energy of the air has surely shifted as your soul sinks into a dark place and your tsahìk is quick to catch it. She’s irritable in the last months of her own pregnancy, more easily disturbed by small things. 

“Come here.” She makes room on the hammock she’s sitting in expecting that you’ll join her without protest. Of course you do, dropping what you’d been doing to sit beside her. The squid can wait. You’ve harvested enough of their ink for the moment though the one in your hand clings defiantly, little tentacles winding around your fingers as you try to drop into the bowl with the others. Ronal makes a face as she watches you gently peel the creature from your hand. Despite their necessity for the tradition of tattooing, she’s always found squids to be unpleasant. Something about their wriggling legs unsettling her. It’s an amusing distaste she has considering how many times you’ve reminded her their legs are more similar to the sinuous nerves of a kuru, but she won’t have it. You press a kiss to her temple as you sit to offer penance for bringing the creatures near her. 

She hums and goes back to her sewing, stitching delicate beads into the intricate weaving of a new top. Idly you flex your leg, gently rocking the hammock as you bury your foot in the sand. The day has gone by with a harmonious sort of stillness as the clan spent the heat of the day on menial tasks. Despite the more secluded area you find yourself in you can still hear the soft din of voices; work songs and gossip and children shrieking happily as they splash in the waves. You rest a hand on your stomach. Enough time has passed for you to be showing. Tonowari has been pleased since Ronal first confirmed the news, hands constantly brushing over your stomach even when you looked no larger than you had before. Now he’s weak with anticipation for their first stirring. You can already hear the words on his tongue as the olo’eyktan appears down the beach, smiling happily at the sight of his mates cocooned together. 

“Oh.” Before he can ask there’s a sudden fluttering in your stomach, light and quick like the feeling of a fish swimming past you. 

“Oh?” Ronal asks, setting aside her sewing. Your hand presses lightly against the place you felt the burst of movement. 

“Are they moving?” Tonowari asks excitedly, already kneeling before you. His hand trails up your calf to settle on your knee, blue eyes imploring as you stare blankly in wait for another flutter. It comes again and you laugh at the strangely ticklish feelings, pulling his hand from your knee to press against your stomach. 

“Did you feel it?” You ask when the baby moves again. Your child is strong, moving with great vigor. It isn’t always a pleasant feeling as you remember the bouts of sickness Ketsräno raised while he twisted and kicked inside you, but this is the first of the new baby’s movements and they’re hardly enough to disturb you. Tonowari nods though his eyes stay trained on your belly. Ronal’s hand pushes in beside her husband’s, fingers overlapping with your own as you guide Tonowari’s hand to where the kicks are strongest. She’s shared in your toiling of carrying a child, knows that it won’t always be this easy, but for the moment neither of you mention it. Instead she presses a kiss to your cheek, your nose, landing one on your lips when you turn towards her amorous mouth. Tonowari catches your lips soon after, hand still pressed against your stomach. He doesn’t go far as he pulls away. 

Instead he wraps his hands around your waist, lifting you from your seat to twirl you in a circle. There are no words for what he’s feeling because all that falls from his lips are sounds of pure elation. Laughter, as deep and rolling as the ocean fills the alcove as he dances with you. Ronal watches the two of you for a moment before smiling herself and standing to join. Your heart swells near to bursting as you realize this is what you would’ve missed had the storm of distance and anger never torn through your life. You’ve made something better of what remained when the rain gave way to sunlight. This is what you tried to deprive yourself of with your rash overthinking. You’ll never be so presumptuous again. Not when Tonowari and Ronal renew their vows to you with each passing breath. Paskalin, tìyawn, muntxate. They don’t let you forget their love for even a moment and you’ll dedicate your life to returning it a thousand times over. 

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Lorpaytsyal – chandelier fish

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Txampaysye – gill mantle

Tanhì – bioluminescent freckles, star

Parultsyìp – little miracle, term of endearment for a child

Sempul – father

Hì’ikran – dorado verde, small ikran (speculative)

Nawmtu – great person (honorific)

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Skxawng – moron

Oìsss – angry snarl, watch it!

Paskalin – sweet berry (term of endearment)

Tswin, Kuru – neural braid

First Breath – Metkayina birth ritual

Vitra – soul

Nga yawne lu oer – I love you

Aysnatanhì – constellations

Tìyawn – love (term of endearment)

Muntxate – wife, female mate

[the-californicationist]

Picking Flowers

@pricesugarwife left this amazing comment on one of my posts and i couldn't get it out of my head...

pricesugarwife: Nos complaces con un smut Hades!Price x Persefone!Reader??? *se arrodilla*

te amo griss!! espero que te guste esta historia que escribí para ti, nena. 🩷🩷

TW: rape/non-con/cnc elements, loss of virginity, corruption, very bad greek mythology knowledge (sorry, it's just make believe okay jeez)

In a grove in Hellas, long, long ago… 

Before you opened your eyes, you already knew what you would see. Slowly, as sleep fell away from you, like the warmth of a blanket being pulled away from your body, a heavy darkness giving way to light, you could see a warm, egg yolk glow behind your eyelids. The sun had cut a path through your windowpane, and now it cast itself like a spell, masking its burn over your face. When you opened your eyes, you would squint through your lashes, looking up through the green mottled leaves, neon, blinding, of the twisted yew outside of your window. You could smell your mother’s bread baking in her old dutch oven, hints of oregano and pepper wafting through your room, bringing the warmth of the hearth with them. You could almost taste the crispy crust, roasted to perfection, protecting the soft, textured middle. 

Finally, you peeked between your lashes, and before you, your self-made dream came true. The sun filtered in through your glass a little less bright than what you had imagined, but the greens were there, and they reminded you that today was your favorite day: the arrival of Spring. 

“Sephie! Are you awake?”

Your mother’s sing-song voice fluttered down the hall and tucked itself through the crack of your bedroom door. She always knew when you woke up, and although you’d never questioned it, you had to admit it was uncanny. You chalked it up to the wonders of motherhood. She seemed to know every other thing about you, so why question it?

“Yes, Mom. Coming!” You called back, your own voice a little stronger, a little less like a delicate lark, a little more like a robin. 

You were very much a late bloomer, still living with your mother at almost twenty years of age, especially when most of the girls in your village had suitors or proposals by sixteen. But, you didn’t let it bother you. As your mother was ready to remind you, the thread of your life was your own, and you would follow its path until the end, whether you wanted to or not. If Lachesis had measured your life out to be this way, then that was that. Why question it?

You pulled on your robes, woven on your family loom of the finest silk threads. You had begged your mom to add a tight spiral of cyclamen along the hem, the flowers so familiar, their pink heads watching you as you followed your daily path to the river. So, she had insisted that you try. You were well enough a woman now, and more than skilled enough to craft your own clothes. And you had; it had been easier than you thought, and you added a few glass beads in that same heart-shaped petal to the tips of the cord of your belt. 

You owned no looking glass, but you never noticed its absence. There was so much more to do than to stare at something you couldn’t change. Focus on what you can do, your mother’s voice haunted your mind, not on what is already done. Besides, your mother insisted that you were beautiful, so why question it?

“Here, my darling,” your mom tapped you under your chin, handing you a cloth satchel full of bread, fruit, seeds, and dried meats, “Before you go to the river, please check on the well. It should have clear water for you to fill this skin. Fill it again on your way home. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t, Momma. I promise.”

“That’s my good girl.”

You were out of the door and heading down the hill to the well before you knew it, the feel of the soft grass comforting your heels, cold and damp from the morning dew. The village below you was coming alive, its people tending to their new lambs, planting seeds in the black, fertile soil, carrying buckets of water to and from the olive groves, pruning the dead branches away from the new growth on each branch. Their bustle and laughter as they worked together made you long to live in town. But, your mother had insisted that the town and its people would just be a distraction, and you’d never experienced such a thing; why question it?

When you approached the well, you were alone. You let your hands trace their way along the rough, grey stones, feeling the familiar edge, reaching for the thick rope to pull up the bucket. The worn hemp gave way, and the echo of the old wooden bucket hitting the sides of the well rang out like shrouded bells. You reached for the handle of the bucket, pulling it up to the rim, carefully filling your waterskin, making sure not to waste a drop. You used the rest to wash your face and hands, letting the cool water soak into your cheeks, adding moisture back to your body after a long sleep. 

Suddenly, your eyes darted up to the treeline just beyond the well’s clearing. You thought you saw a shadow that stretched just a little too long, shaped just a little too wrong… but when you studied the dark spaces between the trunks, there was nothing but lush overgrowth. You packed your waterskin and tossed the bucket back into the water; you were eager to get down to the river. The light always played tricks on you in this glade, so why question it?

You walked quite a ways through the valley, using your fingers and the softness of your touch to coax the flowers to bloom and grow as you let your hand fondle its way through the tall grass. When you reached your river, you savored the sight. The way that it curved into a deep ox bow was your favorite thing. It was as if the river had carved out a small, circular stage just for you. In it, you worked on your crafts, practicing growing buds from seeds, trees from roots, ivy from the palm of your hand. Then, you sent it out, down the river towards town, making sure the village was well-shaded, well-fed, and well-protected from the elements. 

It was hard work, and you always slept after a long afternoon of using your magic, but your mother always said that no one else would be able to do a better job than you, so you kept at it, and it was the one thing you never questioned. 

This time, when you woke up from your nap, you knew you weren’t alone. As you sat up, you looked around, thinking that a striped kri-kri or a golden jackal would be nibbling at the food in your pack. But, sitting with his legs crossed, was a man dressed only in a dark blue chilton, the shoulder of which hung loosely around his waist as if he were a farmer who had been toiling in the field. He was no farmer. Not with those inhuman eyes of ice fire, pale and bright, glowing although the sun was at his back. His body was that of a giant, muscle-bound and heavy, full of power just rippling beneath the surface. He reminded you of the well. How deep did his strength flow? His beard and chest were furry but well-groomed, just like that of a nobleman. 

You greeted him, apologizing for your slumber,

“Good day, sir. Forgive my sleeping. I was just tending to my flowers, and I must have dozed off.”

“No trouble,” his smile came to him easily, and you enjoyed it, basking in it, “I enjoy watching you work. It is a gift to see it up close.”

He reached out his hand and plucked one of your most vibrant hyacinths from its stem, cradling your art in his huge hands. 

“Beautiful,” he purred, speaking of the flower but looking at you. 

“Thank you, sir. Can I offer you some bread or fruit from my pack? I carried clean water from the well this morning.”

“How generous you are,” his smile showed his straight, large teeth this time, and he tucked your own flower behind your ear, letting the delicate petals tickle your sensitive flesh.

You prepared a small piece of bread for him, decorating it with nuts and juicy lobes of fruit that you had carefully peeled with your hands, tearing off a piece of dried meat for him to try as well. You ate with him in companionable silence, watching him as he chewed. Whereas the kri-kri would have greedily gobbled up the bread from your palm, this man seemed unsurprised by it. What was a delicacy for some of Gaia’s creatures was a mere appetizer for others. But, it may be that he had much finer fare at home, so why question it?

“Do you live near to this glade, sir?” You asked, hoping to learn more about your handsome stranger. 

His hands peeled the delicate pith from the citrus lobe you had given him, expertly trimming it as if he had done it for a thousand mornings, knowing exactly how hard or easy he needed to pull the flesh for it to yield, feeding it into his mouth in a wet, juicy bite, letting the sweet nectar soak into his beard and become sticky. 

He chewed slowly, eyeing you carefully as he did, seemingly in no rush to answer your question. So, you tacked on another one, impatiently, 

“What should I call you?”

“I have been called many names,” he spoke, looking down at his hands, staring at his open palms as if to divine some sort of future before his eyes shot back to yours, pinning you where you sat.

“Hm,” you smiled, inching closer, pretending to get a better look at him, studying him like a statue at a temple, “You do not look like an Akakios, nor an Eirenaios…”

“No,” he chuckled, his laugh rolling like a volcanic crag inside of his throat, “I should think not.”

“I cannot imagine naming you Melanthios, though it fits your face,” you giggled.

“I’m not sure I appreciate that, little petal.”

His laugh was still jovial, so you pushed him further, 

“Perhaps Kleisthenes. Your strength is apparent, as is your status. Surely, that must fit you.”

You leaned back, biting off another chunk of bread, saving the crust for last, satisfied with your naming ritual.

He shook his head, 

“I’ll give you a hint. It’s very brief, or at least much less trouble than Kleisthenes.”

“Bion, then.”

“Mm,” he frowned a bit at the edges of his smile, “Quite the opposite in essence, I’m afraid.”

“Perhaps you are a foreigner. One of Troy, or Rome, even? Something brief, like John.”

“I am foreign enough to this land, so I suppose John is close enough,” he sighed, allowing you to finally take your win. 

You hadn’t realized how close you had drawn yourself into him. You were now near enough to smell the oils on his skin: laurel, salt, and something akin to tarnished silver. His hand reached out to touch the curls of your hair, carefully braided by your mother, entwined with small flowers and ivy stems to keep it off of your neck. But, after your nap, one lock had escaped and was now being delicately twirled in this man’s immense fingers. 

“And what should I call you, little flower? Marjoram is too serious for you. Iris, not serious enough.”

“Persephone,” you offered, unwilling to force him to endure the same naming torture you had just gone through. 

“Ah!” He gasped, leaning toward your face as if seeing you for the first time, “Persephone.”

Then, before you could even know what was happening to you, your lips were tasting his. He was cradling you in his arms, holding your limp body against his bare chest, the gold of his necklaces and armbands warm from his body heat as they pressed into your skin. He was kissing you, moving his mouth against yours, forcing your jaw to yield to him, to take his tongue into the hollow of your cheeks, to suck the citrus juice from it, the memory of his food still fresh on the muscle. 

You had never been kissed before, even though you had practiced on two of your fingers held tightly together, watching lovers sneak up to the well on hot days of work to do to each other what you longed for someone to do to you. It was so much more satisfying to feel another’s lips move against your own, nothing like the static, chaste practice you’d tried to mimic. 

Only now, after you were left gasping, feeling his hands wander along the edges of your chilton, his fingers beginning to dig into the loose gaps in the fabric, did you question whether you should be kissing this man or not. But, it felt too good to stop. 

John, or whoever he was, pulled away for a moment, and his eyes seemed to study your mouth, inspecting your plump, swollen lips as if something was wrong. You wrapped your hands around his neck to steady yourself, and he lay you back, letting your head be supported by the plush grasses beneath you. He spoke to you in a hushed whisper, even though no one was around for miles, 

“I have been watching you, Persephone. I see you growing your lush gardens, creating a world full of life, all for me to take. And I come back every autumn, when the sun is shy and the sky is dark, just to inspect all of the gifts you have given me,” he kissed you again, his hand finally snaking its way under the shoulder of your robes, peeling it down slowly to reveal your full breasts to the open air, “And I eat them up. All of them, and I take them home. I’ve been keeping them for you. All of your treasures from years past. They’re still there for you to see.”

Then, before you could ask him what he meant, his mouth latched onto the dark nipple of your breast, suckling at it like a babe. And then, very much not like a babe. Like something else. Like a wolf digging the marrow from a bone. Like an otter clawing at a clam, slurping up the tender meat inside. 

And then, he stopped. He sat up, holding you by the shoulders and helping you sit up with him, fixing your top so that you were covered again, dizzy and reeling from his attention, the wet skin of your aching nipples sticking to the silk fabric of your gown. 

“Sir, I…”

“Come with me, love,” he held out his hand, “Don’t you want to meet your old friends?”

You didn’t know what to say, but he seemed so friendly. There was a dark, twisted piece of wort inside of you, growing and twining itself around your belly that made you want to see if he might put his mouth on you again. It had been so lovely… Besides, you very much missed your old creations. You remembered hundreds and hundreds of seasons of creations you had made, trees and plants, fruits and flowers. It would be wonderful to be reminded of all of the things you had brought into the world. If he had kept them for you, it may even be rude to refuse his hospitality. He seemed so sure, so why question it?

So, you took his hand, and he led you through the earth, ripping at the dirt like a heavy veil, marching down into the darkness, leading you step after step down a winding, rocky staircase. Above your head, you saw the last bit of a ruby-colored sun, setting in the distance, illuminating the ceiling of roots and fungus that hung above you as you delved further into his depths. 

Then, your heart skipped a beat. You saw your river again, her wine-dark waters now black, curling in that same ox bow pattern, cutting the land in half. On one bank, the souls of the living waited to be ferried across, and on the other, fields and fields of your own flowers, frozen in time, neither growing nor dead, shrouded in darkness in the grey soil of the Underworld. 

He led you onward, towards his blue, gleaming castle, all of its walls made of shining glass, distorting the world outside, and concealing the one within. You marveled at the wide door, its ebon gate the only iron you could see, and all of the castle guards were the dead. Their lifeless eyes gray and cloudy, set inside of gaunt, bony faces, unseeing, unfeeling. You did not fear them, even though you were sure you were meant to. You knew them. You had made the food that fed them while they were alive. You had grown the trees and bushes that had sheltered them when they lay beneath your boughs, exhausted from their labor or their warfare. Who was afraid of an old friend?

Then, you watched your companion climb the long stair up to the throne of Hades, for that is who he was after all, and he sat on its plush seat, motioning for you to sit in an equally-crafted chair beside him. There was no difference between the two thrones. His was not higher, nor was it more elaborate. So, you sat, waiting to see what Hades wanted to show you. 

A delightful processional began, and you spotted some of your first flowers being brought to you on pedestals and pillows, you ooh’d and ahh’d at them, sharing stories and listening to Hades tell you all of his tales of how he brought them here to keep. How he’d waited so long for you to come and join him here, to rule in the Underworld beside him as its queen. 

“What do you think, love? My people are desperate for more of your creations. You are the only one who reminds them of home. They see your trees and your flowers, your fish and your fruits, and their souls finally know peace. Be my queen, rule beside me, help me put these souls to rest here in Elysium.”

“I am still a maid, sir,” you told him, “My mother is the one who would make that choice for me.”

He looked at you confused,

“You are a goddess most powerful. There is no one who can make choices for you. Even I am no match for your magic. I cannot bloom these fields.”

“When I return home, I will consult her wisdom, and she will help us marry.”

“Very well,” he sighed, “Perhaps you will at least allow me to show you the same hospitality as you have shown me. There is a feast that awaits you in my chambers. Will you join me, petal?”

You had no excuse. How could you refuse him the same thing you had provided. After dinner, you would return home and tell your mother about this handsome suitor.

You followed him from the throne room and entered his chambers, sitting on a wide lounge where platters of meat and fruit and honey in wide bowls waited for you to dig into them. You did not shy away now that you were in the comfort of his rooms, letting Hades sit beside you, as close as he could, feeding you berries and sweetmeats from his hands, dipping his fingers into your lips and letting you suck them clean, laughing and joking with you. 

He had done a poor job of tying your robe back onto your shoulder, and it kept falling down. Finally, when you were about to adjust it again, he stopped you, pulling it down even further to hang with the cord of your belt, letting your breasts hang free upon your ribs, heavy and full, sensitive from his earlier ministrations. 

“C’mere, love. Lay back and let me feed you. You must be so tired from your work today,” he murmured in your ear, allowing you to lay your back across his chest, his legs spread wide to allow you to sit between them.

You did as he bade, letting him feed you grapes dipped in honey, delicious fish and mussels, crab and octopus still cold and fresh. He ate, too, feeding you sometimes from his own mouth, bending to kiss you with sweet bites between his teeth. 

Then, when you had both had your fill, he used his hands to rub your sore muscles, easing the tension in your neck, down your shoulders, and then finally, he stopped,

“Alright, love. We should bring you back to Demeter. I’m sure she is waiting.”

“No,” you protested, ignoring the fact that he knew your mother’s name, “I mean… I thought we could stay a bit longer. I’m so full; a journey would be too arduous right now.”

“Oh?” He returned to petting you, letting his hands trace just outside of your breasts, fingers skating through your underarms and then up along the thin skin of your neck, “How should we occupy our time, my love?”

“Just… like this,” you let your hands wander to his strong thighs, massaging down his knees and calves, admiring the muscles there. 

“If that’s what you want, my love, then you shall have it. All that you want shall be yours,” his tone was dark in a way you had never heard from another person, but you felt so good, so why question it?

His hands were callused and warm as they covered your sensitive breasts, plucking at your nipples like the petals of one of your flowers, and you mewled from the pleasure, asking him for more and more and more.

Then, you felt his mouth on your neck, sucking and licking you, reminding you of how it felt when his mouth was on your tits, making your flesh tingle like the crackle of lighting, like the cold of the first swim of the season. 

So, you turned towards him, spreading your legs on either side of his hips, sitting proudly in his lap, hoping he would return his mouth to where it was needed. And he did. It was as if he read your mind, knowing you wanted him to suck and suck and suck against the softness of your skin, to use his tongue to press into the nub of your nipple, over and over until you felt your legs begin to shake as if you were shivering from the cold. 

“My pretty flower, it feels like you need something else, hm? What would you like? I will give you Olympus if you ask me for it.”

You weren’t sure what to ask for. When a flower asks to be picked, growing symmetrical and soft as it does, what does it know about the plucking? Only picked flowers know what they’re really asking for, don’t they?

“I don’t know… I just… I need…” You tried to make sense of your body’s wishes, and why you were rocking your hips back and forth, why you needed to feel something between your thighs. 

Hades’ smile widened, that dark beard pressed out of the way of his full mouth as it turned up into a grin, 

“How about this, hm?” 

He fumbled with your robes and his, and then you felt yourself sigh with relief when he placed some part of him between your legs, giving you something to rub against through your softest petals, wet with excitement and desire. You both sighed, and you could feel the heat of him as you rocked back and forth. It felt like his wrist, but then again, it didn’t. It was wide enough, but at the end, instead of a hand, it was the fleshy edge of another tongue, perhaps. Something that was licking your hole every time you passed over it. 

Eventually, everything was wet beneath you. His robes, your robes, his body, your body… it was a sticky, dripping mess. You had lost your breath, your heart beating out of your chest, your mind sparkling like a fire and then going blank like you had drank too much wine. Over and over, you felt everything and then nothing. It may have been hours, but you couldn’t tell. He didn’t seem like he was in a rush to be finished with your game, so you didn’t question it. 

“More, still?” He finally asked, kissing you on the mouth sweetly, sucking on the tip of your lolling tongue, “My greedy little flower…”

You weren’t sure what more there was. But, he showed you. This time, when you rocked back, he used his hand to notch himself at your hole, and if you pushed forward, you would have to press yourself onto him, to take him inside of yourself somehow. It was the same way you had used your fingers inside yourself to play in your bed or in your glade by the river, just touching yourself for the comfort of it. 

But, this was different. This was not comfort, it was magic. It felt like old magic, something from the world as it was before. And yet, he had promised you whatever you wanted, so you didn’t question it. 

As you slipped yourself over his fleshy knob, you experimented with your movements, rolling your hips back and forth, seeing how it felt to push him deeper and deeper inside of you, stopping when you felt like you were being stretched open. Then, you tried circles, turning your hips around and around as you sat in his lap, feeling him slipping deeper and deeper inside of you as you found your rhythm. 

He was busying himself with kissing you, or suckling from your nipples, but you could tell he was enjoying himself as much as you were. His grunting was that of a rutting deer, hoarse and loud. Finally, he reached some sort of limit, and he grabbed you, changing places, pressing you beneath him on the lounge, nearly ripping off your robes and his own, making you naked in front of him. 

Then, you saw what you had been using for your pleasure. His phallus stood tall and strong against his belly, ruddy and throbbing, shining with your wet nectar. You had never seen one up close, and when you cradled it in your hands, it felt alive, like it was separate from him even though its thick root was buried deep inside his body. 

Hades’ eyes glowed bright blue, his own magicks coursing within him, and he told you,

“Open your legs.”

So, you obeyed, entranced by his power and the feeling you were experiencing, weightless and floating in your own mind. He fed himself into you, as deep as you had gone and then deeper, not stopping when you hissed in a breath from the feeling of your muscles stretching beyond the point of comfort, delving far enough to cause pain. 

“Ahh!” You cried out, but he shushed you with his mouth, kissing you again and again, distracting you from the discomfort of his invasion. 

“That’s my good girl…” He praised you, just as your mother always did, for a job well-done or a chore checked off the list. 

But, you didn’t feel like you were doing a chore. In fact, you felt like you were watching him do one for you. His thrusting was violent and repetitive, his huge rod pounding into you with every snap of his hips, grinding his tip inside of you deeper and deeper. As you moved past the pain and back into a throbbing sort of pleasure, he looked as if he was taking your pain away from you in this ritual. His face was set in a grimace, his eyes ferocious and snarling, his voice growling and letting out only deep, throaty whines. 

So, you did what he had done for you. You kissed his furry chest and latched onto his soft nipple, listening to him cry out with a sudden shout. 

“Love, I can’t… ”

You didn’t know how to help him, so you kept sucking and sucking, hoping you would bring him the pleasure that you felt, that you might ease his pain. 

But, he grabbed your face in his huge hands, pulling you away from his chest, squeezing your cheeks to make your lips press into a helpless sort of pout. 

He growled down at you like a wounded animal,

“So beautiful. My queen. My perfect little flower.”

Then, you felt your body tumble into another one of your hypnotic phases; your muscles clenching, your toes curling, your breath neither coming in nor rushing out, helpless to your own reaction. 

“Unghff-fuck… that’s it. Persephone…” He looked at you with those eyes, the eyes of some unearthly being, the bright icy glow keeping you in that cyclone of pleasure, thrashing you with it over and over, making you feel a wet gush between your legs, warm and slick. 

He released your face and leaned backwards, peering down at your body from his kneeling position, letting you watch how he was pistoning inside of you, pressing himself through you and filling you up. He watched himself for a moment, staring down at where you were joined, and then he sank himself all the way in and tossed back his head with a bellowing shout.

You felt his prick writhing inside of you, pulsing and throbbing. You waited, panting with him, watching him wipe the sweat from his brow. He pulled himself out slowly, and lay it on your belly, letting you see the last of his seed drooled from his tip. There was blood on your skin when he pulled away, and as much as you tried to wipe it away, it stained.

Hades carried you to his bed, wrapping you in his dark blue silk sheets, cradling you in his arms until you both drifted off to sleep. 

You awoke to the sound of a woman crying. A voice calling your name. But, you were so tired, you must have been dreaming, so you didn’t question it. 

AO3 Link -- Thank you for the bookmarks and kudos! <3

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 33/33 ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! NO Smut but BIG TRIGGER WARNING, Language, Ben being hurt, Reader being hurt, soft Ben, sad Ben - it´s a fucking mess

Word Count: 4627

A/N: This is part 33 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

The baby's room was a testament to Ben's dedication and love. Together, you had spent countless hours painting, decorating, and arranging every detail with care. As you walked around the room, your heart swelled with a mixture of pride and anticipation.

The soft gray walls provided a calming backdrop, while colorful accents added warmth and personality to the space. A cozy crib stood in one corner, adorned with plush toys and fluffy blankets, ready to welcome your little one into the world.

On the opposite wall, a small dresser and changing table offered practicality and convenience.

As you ran your hand over the smooth surface of the crib, a wave of emotion washed over you. Soon, this room would be filled with the laughter and cries of your precious baby, a thought that filled you with joy and excitement.

Despite the early stage of your pregnancy, seeing the room take shape helped solidify the reality of the new life growing inside you.

For both of you, it was a way to channel your excitement and anticipation, turning the abstract concept of parenthood into something concrete and tangible. Each brushstroke of paint, each carefully chosen decoration, was a step closer to embracing the future as parents.

Sitting in the rocking chair, you gazed out of the window, the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains casting a warm, comforting light in the room.

The rhythmic motion of the rocking chair was soothing, lulling you into a state of peaceful reflection. As you traced gentle circles on your belly, you couldn't help but marvel at the miracle of new life, feeling a profound sense of connection to the tiny being nestled within you.

"You know", you murmured softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "your daddy's been working so hard to get everything ready for you. He's been painting and building furniture, all to make this room perfect for when you arrive".

Your hand gently caressed the curve of your belly as you spoke, a tender smile gracing your lips. "And me? Well, I've been trying my best to take care of you, making sure you're safe and healthy in there".

As you spoke, you felt a faint flutter against your palm.

"And let me tell you about your dad", you continued with a playful smirk, "he's a big tough guy, but deep down, he's a total softie when it comes to you. I've caught him talking to my belly more times than I can count, telling you stories and making all sorts of promises".

You chuckled softly at Ben's earnest attempts to bond with the baby. "He's going to be the best dad, even if he does have a habit of burning eggs in the kitchen".

As you spoke, you couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for Ben. You knew that beneath his tough guy act, he had a heart of gold, especially when it came to you and your baby.

"And you know what else?", you continued with a mischievous grin, "he's absolutely terrified of changing diapers. I swear, every time I mention it, he gets this deer-in-the-headlights look. But don't worry, little one, we'll figure it out together".

"I can't wait to meet you", you whispered, your words filled with love and longing. "We're going to be a family, and I promise to love you more than anything in this world".

You rose from the rocking chair with a gentle sigh, feeling a bit restless and in need of some fresh air. Slipping out of the baby's room, you made your way downstairs and towards the front door. The sun was shining brightly outside, promising a pleasant walk through the neighborhood.

Missing Ben, you decided to head to Vought Tower. The familiar route felt comforting, and soon enough, you found yourself stepping into the sleek, imposing building. You made your way up to his office, greeting a few familiar faces along the way.

Once there, you discovered Ben was in a meeting, so you settled down on the couch in his office. The faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air. You smiled, feeling a sense of closeness despite his physical absence.

As you waited, you absentmindedly stroked your bump, your thoughts drifting to the life you were building together.

Suddenly the door to Ben's office burst open with a loud thud. Ben stormed in, followed closely by Butcher, their heated argument filling the room.

"I can't believe you’re still against fucking killing him, Butcher!", Ben snarled, his face contorted with frustration. "Keeping Homelander captive is a ticking time bomb. He fucking needs to be put down once and for all".

Butcher rolled his eyes, his own anger simmering just beneath the surface. "I've told you before, Soldier Boy, we need him alive for now. There’s too much we don’t know. We can use him as leverage".

Ben's eyes flashed with fury as he paced the room, his hands clenched into fists. "Leverage? You think that psychopath is going to be anyone's fucking leverage? He´s a fucking piece of shit!".

Butcher stepped closer. "And you think going in guns blazing is the answer? This needs to be strategic, not a bloodbath".

Ben’s anger was palpable, and for a moment, you feared he might lash out physically. But then his eyes landed on you, and his expression softened slightly. "What the fuck are you doing here?", he asked, his voice still edged with irritation, but with a hint of concern creeping in.

Butcher couldn’t resist adding his own commentary, a smirk playing on his lips. “Looks like someone brought their distraction to work today”, he said, his tone laced with amusement.

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks as Butcher’s teasing remark earned a sharp glare from Ben.

Before things could escalate further, you decided to intervene, hoping to diffuse the situation. “I just missed you”, you said, trying to keep your tone light. “And I was kinda bored”.

Ben’s gaze softened as it shifted to your belly, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "You shouldn’t be wandering around on your own", he said, his voice tinged with worry. "Especially not with everything going on".

Butcher seemed to sense the change in atmosphere, offering a gruff nod before making his exit. "Fine, fine", he muttered, rolling his eyes as he left the office, leaving you and Ben alone once again.

With Butcher gone, Ben turned his full attention back to you, his expression softening as he approached. "C´mere", he said, his voice gentle as he guided you towards the couch.

Ben's grumpiness seemed to melt away as he gently pushed you down onto the couch, his body weight pressing against yours. With tender care, he lifted your sweatshirt, exposing your bare little baby bump, and began placing soft kisses along its surface.

Your cheeks flushed with warmth as Ben continued to pepper your belly with kisses. With each tender touch of his lips, you felt a surge of affection and adoration for the man beside you.

In a soft, murmured voice, barely above a whisper, Ben expressed his love. "I love you so fucking much", he mumbled against your skin, his words filled with emotion and sincerity.

Ben's hands gently cradled your growing bump, his touch both protective and loving. As he looked up at you, his eyes were filled with a mixture of tenderness and awe.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, his expression reflecting the depth of his love to you and your unborn child. With a soft sigh, you reached out to caress his hair, your heart swelling with affection for the man who meant everything to you.

Passion ignited between you as Ben pressed his lips to yours, his kiss filled with longing and desire. With your legs spread beneath him, you welcomed him closer, the warmth of his body enveloping you as your lips moved together in a fervent dance of love and need. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the two of you.

But Annie's abrupt entrance shattered the moment, her voice cutting through the air with urgency. "Ben, we need your help!", she yelled, her words punctuated by the sounds of chaos and commotion from outside the office. The urgency in her tone sent a jolt of adrenaline coursing through both you and Ben, snapping you out of the intimate bubble you had been enveloped in just moments before.

Ben's demeanor shifted instantly, his focus shifting from you to the chaos unfolding outside the office. With a commanding tone, he ordered, "Stay here", his voice tinged with urgency as the noise escalated and the sound of shattering glass filled the air. You nodded in response, watching as Ben hurried out of the room, his expression grim with determination.

Annie's voice cut through the chaos, her tone urgent as she relayed the situation to Ben. "It's Homelander", she shouted over the noise, her eyes wide with alarm. "And he seems to be on V!".

Ben's jaw tightened with determination as he took in the gravity of the situation. "Stay close", he instructed Annie, his voice firm as he prepared to confront the threat head-on. "We need to take him down before he causes any more damage".

Ben cursed under his breath as he surveyed the scene before him, his eyes narrowing with rage at the sight of the shattered lobby, the injured and screaming people, and the few who lay motionless on the ground, their lives already lost.

Butcher peered out from behind a metal door, his expression a mix of exhaustion and amusement as he glanced at Soldier Boy. "Well, looks like it's another day in paradise, eh?", he quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm. "Who knew babysitting superheroes would be so much fun?".

As Ben dodged another piece of debris hurtling towards him, he muttered under his breath, his voice tense with frustration. "How the fuck did Homelander manage to escape?".

The chaos around them made it difficult to think clearly, but Ben knew they needed to act fast to contain the situation before it spiraled further out of control. With Homelander on V, the stakes were higher than ever, and every second counted in their efforts to bring him down.

As Homelander made his way towards the elevators, Ben cursed under his breath, his jaw clenched with determination. "We can't let him get away", he muttered, his eyes scanning the chaotic scene for any sign of the rogue supe.

With a sense of urgency driving him forward, Ben pushed through the panicked crowd, his focus squarely on intercepting Homelander before he could wreak any more havoc. Time was of the essence, and failure was not an option.

Butcher's grumble mixed with frustration and exhaustion as he observed the elevator doors closing. "Bloody hell, he's probably hunting for you", he muttered towards Ben, his tone dripping with irritation.

Ben's frustration erupted into a string of curses as he realized the danger you might be in. "Fuck", he shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos of the lobby. "We need to get upstairs, now!".

Annie's frustration boiled over as they raced up the stairs, her voice sharp with anger. "Where the fuck is A-Train when we need him?", she cursed, her words punctuated by the sound of their hurried footsteps echoing in the stairwell.

As they sprinted up the stairs with all their might, the sense of urgency weighing heavily upon them, the reality of their limitations became painfully clear. Despite their superhuman abilities, they were still too slow to catch up with Homelander.

Your heart raced as the door slammed open, but your anticipation turned to fear as Homelander strode into the room. Before you could react, his strong grip closed around your throat, pressing you against the wall with alarming force.

Your breath caught in your throat as Homelander's grip tightened, cutting off your air supply. Struggling to speak, you choked out a raspy plea for mercy, but his furious glare told you that he wasn't in the mood for leniency.

"Where is he?", he growled, his voice reverberating with anger. "Tell me, or I'll crush you like a bug!".

"I-I don't know", you managed to gasp out, your voice strained and hoarse. But Homelander's eyes narrowed with suspicion, and he shook you roughly, demanding answers. All you could do was gasp for air, your vision starting to blur as darkness crept in at the edges.

Within seconds, Ben rushing towards Homelander. The rest of the team followed closely behind him, their expressions a mix of concern and readiness for battle.

"Get your fucking hands off!", Ben roared, his voice laced with fury as he confronted Homelander head-on. But Homelander only tightened his grip on you, a menacing sneer twisting his features.

"I'll snap her little neck if you come any fucking closer!", Homelander threatened, his voice dripping with malice as he glared at Ben.

But Ben didn't falter, his gaze locked on yours with unwavering determination. "You touch her, and I swear I'll fucking tear you apart", he growled, his fists trembling with restrained rage.

Homelander's lips curled into a twisted smirk as he observed the scene before him, his grip on you tightening even further. "Looks like you've got yourself in quite the predicament, Soldier Boy", he taunted, his voice laced with amusement as he watched Ben's furious reaction.

You struggled to gasp for air, your vision blurring as the lack of oxygen threatened to overwhelm you. Homelander's mocking words only added to your fear, and you prayed that Ben would find a way to save you before it was too late.

Ben's voice cut through the tension like a knife, his words dripping with barely contained rage as he stepped forward. "Let her go", he growled, his eyes flashing with a deadly intensity. "Or I fucking swear, I'll make you regret it for the rest of your miserable life."

Homelander's smirk widened into a sinister grin as he reveled in the power he held over both you and Ben. "Oh, I don't think so, Soldier Boy", he retorted, his voice oozing with malice. "I have plans for our little reunion, and you're not going to ruin them".

You could feel your strength fading, the world around you growing dim as you struggled to remain conscious.

Homelander's cruel laughter echoed through the room as he taunted Ben, his words laced with disdain. "You know what, since you asked so nicely", he sneered. Without warning, he slammed you against the nearest wall with terrifying force, the impact sending shockwaves of pain coursing through your body.

As darkness closed in around you, you felt a wave of dizziness overwhelm you, your consciousness slipping away as the world faded into blackness.

With a primal scream of "No!", Ben's heart skipped a beat, his worst fears unfolding before his eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, fueled by a surge of pure rage and desperation, he charged towards Homelander, his chest beginning to glow with an otherworldly intensity.

Meanwhile, Butcher sprang into action with lightning speed, his focus solely on rescuing you. He swiftly reached your unconscious and bloodied form, scooping you up in his arms before darting away from the chaotic scene.

As seconds dwindled down to the inevitable explosion, Ben made a split-second decision. With a primal roar, he launched himself at Homelander, their bodies colliding with bone-crushing force as they crashed through the nearest window, hurtling out of the building and into the open air.

Ben detonated in a blinding flash of light, the force of the explosion rippled through the air, shattering windows and sending shockwaves reverberating through the city streets. In that moment of fiery destruction, every trace of V within Homelander's body was obliterated, leaving him powerless and vulnerable once more.

As Homelander attempted to scramble to his feet, Ben swiftly tackled him to the ground, pinning him beneath his formidable strength. With a primal rage burning within him, Ben unleashed a relentless barrage of blows, each strike of his shield raining down with bone-crushing force upon Homelander's defenseless form.

The sound of metal meeting flesh echoed through the air as Ben's fury consumed him, each strike driven by a primal instinct to protect you and exact vengeance upon the one who dared to harm you. With each blow, Homelander's resistance faltered, his once invincible facade crumbling beneath the relentless onslaught. With a sickening crunch, Homelander's body fell limp, lifeless beneath Ben's victorious wrath.

Meanwhile butcher brought you to the hospital of vought, Annie following him quickly. Annie's urgency was evident as she reached out, grabbing Butcher's wrist in a desperate attempt to gain his attention. "Butcher, she's…", she began, her voice fraught with concern.

But Butcher cut her off with a terse nod, his expression grim as he met her gaze. "Pregnant, I know", he replied, his tone clipped and resolute.

Without wasting another moment, Annie led Butcher towards your doctor, her sense of urgency palpable as she handed you over swiftly, ensuring that you received the immediate medical attention you needed.

As the medical team rushed you towards the operating room, panic gripped the air, the urgency of the situation evident in their hurried movements. Doctors and nurses swarmed around you, their voices blending together in a chaotic symphony of commands and reassurances.

Butcher and Annie watched helplessly from the sidelines, their faces etched with concern as they observed the flurry of activity surrounding your unconscious form. Despite their own fears and uncertainties, they remained steadfast, determined to do whatever it took to ensure your safety.

Annie's surprise was evident as she turned to Butcher, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. "How the hell did you know she´s pregnant?".

Butcher shrugged nonchalantly, his gaze steady as he met Annie's incredulous stare. "I pay fucking attention", he replied bluntly, his tone leaving no room for further questions.

Annie's voice cut through the tension, her words tinged with urgency as she turned to Butcher. "I'm going to find Soldier Boy", she declared, her determination evident in her tone. "We need his blood for (Y/N)".

Butcher nodded grimly, his jaw clenched with worry, while Annie darted off, disappearing into the chaos of the tower in search of Soldier Boy.

Butcher's heart sank as he stood outside the operating room, his gaze fixed on the flurry of activity inside. Despite the doctors' efforts, he could hear the ominous rhythm of your heartbeat, irregular and weak. He knew that the odds were stacked against you.

Your injuries were severe—broken bones, internal bleeding, and the trauma inflicted by Homelander had taken its toll. The fact that you were still clinging to life was nothing short of miraculous.

Butcher clenched his fists, his mind racing with a mixture of anger and helplessness. He wanted to storm into the room and demand that the doctors do more, but he knew there was nothing more they could do. All he could do was stand there, waiting, praying for a miracle.

Ben's heart clenched as he burst into the operating room seconds later, his eyes fixed on your pale, unconscious form lying on the table. Covered in Homelander's blood, his own wounds forgotten in the urgency of the moment, he strode forward with purpose.

"No!", he barked, his voice echoing off the sterile walls of the room. "Don't touch her!".

The doctors and nurses turned to look at him, surprise and confusion evident in their eyes. But Ben's gaze was unwavering as he approached the table, his hands trembling with a mixture of fear and determination.

With a steady hand, Ben inserted a needle into his arm, drawing his own blood. His eyes remained fixed on you, his expression a mixture of fear, determination, and desperation. The room fell silent as the doctors and nurses watched, their hands poised but hesitant, ready to intervene if necessary.

Carefully, Ben injected his blood into your system, his movements precise yet urgent. With each drop that flowed into your veins, his heart clenched tighter, his mind racing with a torrent of thoughts and emotions.

"I've got you", he murmured softly, his voice barely a whisper amidst the tension of the room. "Just hold on, Baby. Please…".

Ben's heart clenched with each passing moment, his gaze fixed on you, the love of his life, lying so still on the operating table. The beeping of the machines monitoring your vital signs echoed in the room.

As he watched your heartbeat falter, Ben felt a surge of panic grip his chest. In that moment, it felt as though his own heart had stopped beating. The world around him seemed to fade away, leaving only you and the desperate need to save you.

With trembling hands, he continued to infuse his blood into your veins, willing it to reach every part of your body, to breathe life back into you. Each second felt like an eternity as he waited for a sign, any sign, that you would pull through.

"I can't lose you", he whispered hoarsely, his voice filled with anguish. "Please, (Y/N), don't leave me…".

The sound of the monitor's alarm pierced through the tension-filled silence like a knife, sending a jolt of fear coursing through Ben's veins. His heart sank as he watched the flatline on the screen, the stark reality of the situation hitting him like a sledgehammer.

"No…", he whispered. Tears welled up in his eyes as he felt a surge of desperation wash over him. He couldn't lose you, not like this.

Frantically, he leaned over you, his hands trembling as he searched for any sign of life. He pressed his ear against your chest, praying for the faintest whisper of a heartbeat, but there was nothing.

Panic consumed him as he realized that time was slipping away, that every second mattered. With a sense of determination, he began to administer CPR, his movements desperate and frantic as he fought to bring you back from the brink.

"Come on, Baby", he pleaded, his voice raw with emotion. "Don't you fucking dare leaving me!".

As Ben continued to administer CPR, his hands working with a mixture of desperation and determination. Despite the risk of exacerbating your injuries, he pressed on, each compression accompanied by a silent plea for your return to consciousness.

With every compression, he prayed for a response, a sign that you were fighting to come back to him.

And then, as if by some miracle, he felt the faint flutter of a heartbeat beneath his fingers.

Relief flooded through him, mingled with a sense of disbelief and gratitude. He didn't dare to hope too much, knowing that you were still in critical condition, but the fact that your heart was beating again was a small victory in itself.

Gently, he cradled your battered body in his arms, his voice choked with emotion as he whispered words of encouragement and reassurance. "That's it, (Y/N)", he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. "Stay with me. You're going to be okay…".

As Ben continued to infuse you with his blood, he watched with a mixture of relief and apprehension as your heartbeat grew stronger and your injuries began to heal.

Though the process was agonizingly slow, Ben remained by your side, his gaze never leaving your face as he willed you to keep fighting.

The seconds stretched into minutes.

Ben remained steadfast at your side, his heart racing with every beat of yours. The team stood outside the room, anxiously awaiting any signs of improvement. The doctors and nurses hovered around, their expertise focused on monitoring your vital signs and assisting Ben in any way they could.

For over an hour, Ben continued to infuse you with his blood, his determination unwavering as he watched your wounds slowly close and your injuries begin to heal. But still, you remained unconscious.

As the last drop of his blood flowed into your veins, Ben felt a sense of exhaustion wash over him, both physically and emotionally drained from the ordeal.

Ben pulled the needle away. Before he could stand straight, the dizziness overwhelmed him. The massive explosion and the blood loss were too much, even for him.

Butcher reacted quickly, catching Ben before he could collapse to the ground. The weight of his body felt heavy in Butcher's arms as he struggled to keep Ben upright. With a grunt of effort, he managed to support Ben's weight, his own exhaustion evident as he steadied himself against the nearby wall.

"Easy there, mate", Butcher muttered, his voice strained with fatigue. "You did good. Now let's get you sorted".

Ben's head swam with dizziness as he leaned heavily against Butcher, his vision blurring at the edges.

Hours later, Ben awoke in a hospital bed next to yours. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the grogginess. The sight of you lying still beside him sent a jolt of panic through his chest. He quickly swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, but another wave of dizziness hit him, forcing him to grip the bed's edge for support.

Butcher and Annie, who had been sitting on the couch, quickly stood up. "Whoa, take it slow there", Butcher said, moving towards Ben. "You’re no use to anyone if you keel over again".

Annie nodded in agreement, her expression a mix of concern and exhaustion. "You need to rest, Ben. You’ve done everything you could".

Ben shook his head stubbornly, his eyes locked on you. "I need to be with her", he muttered, his voice rough. "I can’t just lie here".

Butcher sighed, placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder to steady him. "You’re no good to her if you pass out again. Sit down".

Ben reluctantly sank back onto the edge of his bed, his gaze never leaving your still form. "Is she going to be okay?", he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, the vulnerability in his tone stark and raw.

Annie stepped closer, her eyes soft with empathy. "She’s stable for now. Your blood saved her, Ben. She just needs time to heal".

Anyway, Ben slowly walked over to your bed, his steps heavy and his body still covered in blood. He gently brushed a strand of hair off your face, his fingers trembling.

He waited for a few minutes, the fear of what would follow was too great.

For a moment, he closed his eyes, focusing his super hearing, desperate to hear the heartbeat of his child. But as the silence stretched on, a cold dread settled in his chest. There was no second heartbeat.

Butcher and Annie exchanged worried glances, sensing the shift in Ben’s demeanor. The realization hit Ben like a physical blow.

“Ben…”, Annie began, her voice soft and cautious, tears in her eyes.

Ben shook his head, not ready to hear the words. "No", he whispered, his voice breaking. "No, it can’t be…".

Butcher stepped forward, placing a hand on Ben’s shoulder, his usually harsh demeanor softening slightly. "Come on, Ben”.

...to be continued. -> here is the prequel "His second exception"

———————————

A/N: ALRIGHT!

Please… don't hate me. I know, I know. It's a fucking lot.

I can imagine this all seems rushed and too fast, but I'll be honest, I just wanted to get this horrible thing over with.

But! We are far from finished.

Since HOE has a whopping 33 chapters and fucking 164.396 words, there will be a second part, second ´Book` if u will. It will pick up exactly where we left off. Without a time jump or anything like that. The first three chapters are already done and I can´t wait to share them with you.

I promise we will be happy again🥰

Please let me know what you think <3 But pls don´t hurt my feelings too much. HOE is my Baby after all ._.

-

Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy@jackles010378@vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles@sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl@emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444@seasonofthenerd@staple-your-mouth@artemys-ackles@selfdestructionandrhum@mystic-mara @kat-nee @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @star-yawnznn @me1501 @CheyNovaK @faephoria @hobby27

[adoregojo]

he doesn't realise how lonely he is.

the birds nagging on the early morning was freaking annoying and made him wanted to block the window ten times more. he hated how his breakfast tasted, he added to much salt and now he keeps grimacing at every bite. the usual black stray cat on his doorstep keeps greeting him every morning, and all he could find to reply to it meowing was a frown. sunny days were nothing but a pain, the bright light hitting his face as if it was forcing him to like it. how vexing.

the difference shape of flowers peeking out from the next door store brings him nothing of a sense of joy, if anything he wanted to stay away from it due to it attracting the bugs. his coworkers never talk to him, not like he wants to talk to him. he never looked them in the eyes anyway.

he can clearly hear them, their whispers -that were too loud for him to hear- about him being likely an old grumpy grandpa in disguise, they even made bets on if he would smile one day. it didn't hurt him, he couldn't gave a good fuck for it, he just wanted this day to end so he could go home and never have to see anyone.

he doesn't take his shoes off when he's in the apartment, it was too much of a hassle and he doesn't get any visitors anyway. there's barely any food in his fridge, mostly leftovers. he just eats to survive another day. watching pointless tv shows that never truly entertained him, in fact he found them boring but as long as they kept him busy he didn't care.

winter was too cold, summer was too hot, autumn was stressful, and spring gets him a sick problems all the time.

he truly doesn't know where to enjoy anything in life.

well, until he met you.

all of a sudden, the birds melody doesn't sound so bad, so he opens the window for some fresh air. he stared to put afford in making breakfast, not his usual too slaty eggs it is now a fluffy pancakes with your guidance as you embraced him from behind. they weren't perfect, but the pleased noises you make after every bite made him proud. of course he doesn't forget to feed your cat, the same black cat that he claimed it was nothing but a bad luck.

he didn't realise of how much of a neighbours he had till he started coping how you greeted them, it was nice when they started sending you guys food. especially when you liked them and sometimes they'll send his favourite.

sunny days were welcomed now. especially when the bright light would hit on your skin causing a reflection that's making you a walking glowing star. maybe he liked the sun a bit now.

he made progress on talking back to him coworkers, instead of the silent treatment he actually looked at them knowledge them. he actually started looking at them when they speak to him because you told him it was rude not to. soon he was invited to lunch with them where he would show off his bento box you made for him, he was glad the whispers disappeared. he didn't get how much it bothered him till now.

the owner of the flower shop who was an old lady was now a common person he had to see every week, she remarked he was her most loyal client. he received a tones of advice and recommended flowers as well pinching his cheek as a farewell message. needless to say he always tried coming home -he stopped calling it an apartment- to you without an empty hand, having your favourite pair of flowers was a must now. as well taking off his shoes and putting it directly next to yours, this was it right place.

rethinking it now, winter may be still cold but at least he got the scarf you got for him warped up to his neck, if he buried his nose in the soft fur he could smell your cologne -a reason why it was his favourite one- summer was perfect for you two picnic dates, and every time he could kneel down and thank the sun for making you so blazing and sparkly.

autumn was where you would count the crunchy golden leaves, you sometimes warped yourself around it as if it was snow. it was his favourite memory since it made his heart beating fast. and in the end you were his spring, where his love would bloom for you again and again.

restaurants weren't a waste of money and time now. he has a prefers show and it was the one that made you laugh until the tears formed in your eyes, he honestly doesn't find them as funny but it makes you smile so he didn't care.

life stopped being meaningless afterwards, and he could finally say that he enjoyed living as long as it was beside you.

nagi, rin, sae, toji, choso, ushijima, kenma, diluc. kei, sakusa. you favs!

[atzfilm]

— the most lonely creature (m)

〰️ pairing; k.yeosang/f.reader

〰️ word count; [35.9k]

〰️ genre; dragon serpent!au, water god, fantasy

〰️ summary; finding a yeouiju in the forest brings terrors unlike you've ever seen– in the shape of a water god

〰️ warnings under cut

content; use of explicit language, mythology (not completely accurate), smut, mate mentions, injuries, Blood, Strong Language, cursing, dehydration, anxiety, age gap, double penetration, marking 

-

You brush off your sleeve, glaring at the tree that prickled the fabric. You stretch your shirt slightly, seeing the small, dime-sized hole it left. Your friend insisted that this material was high quality, the best of the best. But from that small hole from a branch, you wonder if he only thought this because he saw it in one of those buy-it-or-you’ll-lose-the-discount commercials. You roll your eyes, giving the branch another pointed look before continuing your climb.

You love the outdoors. The soft breeze that flows through the air, the sounds of the animals and insects speaking to one another. Sometimes you'd see a deer dash through the thick brush, too quick for you to admire its beauty. The fresh air that you adore; better than the city, filled with noises of angry people and an odd odor that never seemed to fade. You breathe in and out slowly, sweat coating your forehead.

Your former coworkers always wondered why you loved being in the mountains by yourself, instead of in the office with everyone else, slaving over a desktop and complaining about the cheap coffee. But what can you say? Maybe listening to them whine about the broken air-conditioner for what had to be the hundredth time finally struck a nerve. And who wouldn't want to be outdoors? The sounds of nature are all you listened to. And nothing could be better than that.

After about an hour of hiking, you spot a coursing river. You raise a brow. A river? This high? You stumble along the rocks and sit by its side, watching as the clear water flows over the rocks and misses easily, disappearing down the steel tilt of the mountain. You reach down, letting the clear water roll along your skin, a small dent in the ever flowing current.

It feels almost oddly lukewarm, a bit like a hot spring. It's strange. You glance up, the sun beaming down on your surroundings. Could it be that? Your eyes move over to the opposite side of the river, a glowing light catching your eye.

You glance at the river, large rocks making a strangely perfect path across the water. You debate in your head whether to ignore the shiny object in the distance, or take the risk to cross the water. It doesn't even look too deep if you slipped. You bite your lip, before deciding. You toss your bag over your shoulder tightly before taking the first step on to the rocks. Your hiking boots aren't cheap, but they're made for tougher terrain so you assume that they would work easily on this surface.

You slowly cross, making sure you're fully stable before moving on to the next one. It's a lengthy process, hands trembling as you finally toss yourself into the small pile of leaves on the bank of the river, cushioning your fall. After taking a few seconds to breathe, you dust off your clothes and look at the object you couldn't help but feel drawn to. You crouch town, pushing the grass away.

It looks almost like a large pearl, a bit dusty and covered in grime. But as you wipe it away with your fingers, the shine peaks through, its outer layer egg white. You pick it up, surprised at how lightweight it is. It has to be less than two pounds, but with its size you'd assume it would be much heavier. Nothing scratched your interest on what it is, and the only person that comes to mind is your old office buddy.

Wooyoung. Wooyoung would know what this is.

You opened your bag, lightly pushing it between your belongings before standing up. The sun's beginning to set, and you'd rather not be out here, not when you're not the best hiker. You glance at the spot once more, before walking back the way you came.

-

You walk through your door, tossing your bag into the mud room and kicking your shoes off. You send little kisses to your fish before walking into the kitchen, pouring water into the pot and placing it on the stove.

"Oh shit the Pearl," You run back, looking through your bag and seeing it shine at you. You wash it off in the kitchen, then place it next to the window by your door. It glows softly in the low sunlight. You stare at it for a bit, before dialing your person.

He picks up after only one ring.

"It's almost 6pm so it's not late enough for a booty call," is the first thing he says. He's sitting in his office, knickknacks piled on shelves behind him.

Jung Wooyoung. The bravest man alive, at least in your book. When you were an intern at your editing company, he was one of your superiors. Compared to everyone else he was much more mellow, not caring much about deadlines and always encouraging the people underneath him to take their time with assignments. It didn't bring much favor to him whenever all the departments had meetings, but he always had excellent reviews from the authors. And that made the management hate Wooyoung just as much as they loved him.

Once you were transferred to Wooyoung's department, a soft hello and a tasty coffee made you both best friends. You were inseparable; assignments were given to you and he always stayed by your side to joke about his team or to laugh at the typos some authors did. Every moment spent with him was amazing, and if you were honest with yourself, you did have a little crush on him. At least until he told you that he didn't really imagine himself with someone. That he loved artifacts and stories more than people. It’s more of a fondness now than anything else.

But that day. The day that Jung Wooyoung poured coffee on your department manager. The day that Jung Wooyoung leaped out of your office, high speed and was followed by what had to be dozens of security guards. The day that Jung Wooyoung decided to quit editing and to be a historian, searching for artifacts and educating people when necessary.

And damn he is good at it. You know how smart he is, but never in your life did you think he'd open his own shop in the city and be one of your wealthiest friends within a span of years. Him leaving your office is probably the reason why you wanted to work at home. He's bold enough to go for his dreams, and you felt that too.

"I'm not calling you for a booty call, idiot," You snort, and he laughs. "What's up? How's it going?"

"Ah, you know the usual. Rich men walking in with their trophy wives and wanting to buy one of my babies for way less than it's valued. And then the wives pout and he puts out some extra cash to buy it," he frowns as he looks at his papers. "Did I tell you how much I hate millionaires? All they do is take money and sleep with it."

"Aren't you a millionaire?" You say through a soft smile.

He nods. "My point exactly."

He grabs something off the shelf behind him, before showing it to you. "Hyung came into my shop the other day and said he found this letter from the twelfth century. It's a love letter," Wooyoung traces the words delicately. "It's a bit cheesy, I think you'd like it."

"Yunho really came into your shop to give you a letter? How much did you give him for it?"

Wooyoung sighs. "Nothing. All he wanted was a date."

"That's cute," You laugh, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"It would be, if I didn't say yes."

You blink. Yes? He said yes? You try to keep your face as straight as possible, his eyes moving to the camera. You don't notice the longing in them, they want to hear you protest and say that no, you don't think that going on that date is okay. But all you do is smile, and nod.

"I think you deserve a date, Woo. You've been cooped up in that shop for so long, time to explore the outside world," You move your face closer to the screen. "And from what I can see, you probably haven't showered in days."

"Ah, you're not my Mom," He sighs. "Why did you want to call me anyway? Just to make fun of me?"

You bring your phone with you, flipping the camera to the back one. Your stone sits in the same spot, no longer glowing like before. Wooyoung leans closer to the screen as you align the camera.

"I was hiking and found this thing in the underbrush. I wiped it off a bit 'cause it was dirty but I have no clue what it is?" You say the last bit as a question.

Wooyoung stares at it, his head cocked to the side slightly. He pouts a bit, and you hold back your aww's, knowing he loves being called cute a bit too much. He'd probably go on about it for a week.

"Is it heavy?"

"Nope," You reply. "Can't be more than a few pounds, give or take."

"What kind of color is it? I know it's white, but is it more pink-white or a yellow-white?"

You move the camera out of the way, squinting your eyes at it. "Probably more yellow-white? A bit darker than an egg."

"I can't really tell from this camera to be honest. It can't be a pearl, because it's too big. Almost like the size of a fist. And it isn't heavy either. Would you mind if I came over to your house tomorrow? I'll probably see it better that way."

You flip the camera back to your face. "Will I ever say no to a visit from my favorite person in this universe?" You say, "And I can finally give you your nasty underwear that's been here for way too long. I'm tired of staring at them in my drawer."

"Are they... in your underwear drawer?"

You glare at the screen. "How old are you again, dirty old man? I'm hanging up, see you at twelve!"

He opens his mouth but you've already ended the call, tossing your phone on the counter. You wince as it slides all the way off, the loud drop echoing around your small home. You glance over to make sure it's safe, before walking around it, throwing yourself dramatically on the couch and letting out a sigh.

Your eyes travel back to the strange orb-like thing, sitting next to the window. Whatever it is, you know it's only a reason to not work on the next editing of your client's story. You love the story, actually. Filled with more sci-fi elements than you could think of. You're sure that she's going to become the next James something one day. But goodness, the angst. You needed breaks in between or else you'd be sobbing over a bowl of ice cream, questioning your life choices and wondering if you'd ever find someone that loved you as much.

You push those thoughts away, running your fingers through your hair slowly. Tomorrow's a long day.

-

A knock on the door makes you put your coffee to the side, eyes flicking to the window next to your door. Wooyoung stands there, waving his arms frantically. You grin at him, hopping off the stool and opening the door. He immediately walks in without even saying a good morning. At least he kicks his shoes to the side, walking around the small hallways until his eyes land on the sphere next to your window.

He leans forward, poking it lightly with his finger. "This is the strangest thing I've ever seen," he mumbles, rubbing it with his thumb. "Where did you find this again?"

"Next to the river in the mountains about an hour out from here. I thought I was an egg from an ostrich or something-” He gives you a deadpanned look at that comment- “But it doesn’t sound like anything is inside. It’s not hollow, which is weird because if not-”

“Then this thing would have to weigh at least ten pounds,” Wooyoung murmurs. “Do you mind if I pick it up?”

“Be my guest,” you say, gesturing to it. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me. Just don’t make too much of a mess, yeah? We both know how you get around new things.” A literal mind boner, you think, walking back into the kitchen.

You listen to him play around with it, mumbling his thoughts to himself as you sip your coffee. After about twenty-ish minutes, he runs back into the kitchen, flopping himself on the stool across from you.

“You have to take me to where you found it!” He says, giddy in his chair. You purse your lips, shaking your head.

“I don’t think I want to go back there,” You mumble, taking another sip. “It’s a bit of a ways away. And my legs are sore from yesterday. Plus, I barely edited today and it’s due in two weeks.” You complain, and he scoffs.

“You told me about this thing, and you don’t even want to show me where you got it from? How could you?” He pouts, hand over his chest as he glares at you.

“Wooyoung, you don’t even have hiking-”

“All of it is in the car. I always come prepared,” He says, and winks. “In any situation.”

“You’re disgusting,,” You tease, and he laughs. “Alright, we can do it. But for crying out loud, if you scream at a bee we’re going to turn right around and come back. I’m serious, Woo.”

He frowns. “I am not scared of bees, y/n.”

You raise a brow. “We’ll see.”

-

“Fuck, did you see that?”

“It was a fly, Woo, a fly.”

He laughs nervously, “Ah, I was just testing you.”

You two climb slowly, Wooyoung not far behind you. He jumped a bit at various things, but oddly didn’t at snakes mating. Instead he watched, until you called him a creep and he walked away. You’re almost at the spot where you found it, the sound of running water and the smell seeping into your nose. You glance back at him to make sure he’s close behind, before pushing past some leaves and overgrown plants to reveal the beautiful river.

It’s a bit drier now, but it seems to glow slightly when you enter, as if to give you a soft Welcome. You stand there for a moment, hands resting on your chest as you admire the water. It’s clear enough to see the bottom, various species of sea life swimming through, oblivious to this outside world. Wooyoung finally makes it next to you, breathing heavily.

He opens his mouth to complain, but his eyes widen at the scenery, looking at you. You smile softly at your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts. He doesn’t dare interrupt; he loves seeing you like this the most. You take a couple more moments to breathe in the fresh air before turning to him.

“You see those stepping stones in the middle?” He nods. “That’s what I used to get across. It was close to the bank of the river, hiding a bit in the mud.”

“Interesting,” he begins walking to the stepping stones, and you follow close behind. Just because he knows about these artifacts doesn’t mean he knows nature; he spends more time in his office than the sun.

"Be careful-" You utter, watching as his shoes slip slightly on the pebbles. He looks back at you. His purse is tight around his waist, hair pulled into a small bun on the top of his head. He sticks his tongue at you.

"Real mature," You mumble, and he laughs. You don't notice how close his left foot is to the water, his grip on the rocks slipping. He looks back at you in panic before falling back into the water.

"Wooyoung!" You yell, reaching out and grabbing him by a strap on his travel bag.

He lurks forward, and you reach onto one of the big stones. The rock digs into your fingers and you curse to yourself, grinding your teeth as you try to hold onto him and yourself. But the river...

It has other ideas.

The current picks up immediately, flinging you back from the rocks you desperately held onto. Wooyoung struggles to grab something, anything in his grasp, but the branches are too far away from him. You turn around, your head bobbing up and down from the depths as you try to think of a way to get out. But your feet don't even touch the bottom, and you feel the panic begin to rise in your chest.

"Fuck, I'm sorry y/n, I wish that there was someway we could get out of this-!"

You turn your head, spotting a stump not too far from where you two are. With all the strength you can muster, you yank him through the water. You wrap your arm around the stump, Wooyoung holding on tight as well. You both catch a breath, before he begins to laugh.

Your anger subsides, and you giggle with him as well. "Fuck you! We could've died!" You yell, splashing water at him.

He chuckles slowly as the two of you make your way back to dry land. "You didn't tell me how slippery it was. I could've died!" He jokes.

"Keep talking like that and I'll throw you back in there, idiot." You grumble.

The two of you finally make it to shore, breathing heavily. He flops on his back,chest rising and falling. You lay next to him, your hair slapping against your cheek. You two don't say anything for a moment, heart still pumping at the rise of adrenaline. You glance back at the log, watching as it detached itself from its spot and continued down the river, falling over the incline and from your sight. It was a miracle; it suddenly appeared as you turned your head. You were sure the both of you were done for; but you suppose that that's how life works.

Wooyoung leans up, picking leaves off his clothing. He looks at you, "Hey. I'm sorry, I wasn't paying close enough attention-"

You wave him off. "As long as we're alive, you don't have to say sorry. Now, if we both fell and I had to walk with your sorry ass to the gates of Hell, we would've had some issues."

"Hell?" He frowns. "I'm too good for that."

"You saying that brought you a little bit closer to burning for eternity."

You two continue to tease one another as you walk back down the mountain, the small orb of yours still tucked safely in your bag. Through the laughs and pushes, you notice Wooyoung wince. You look down, a slash on his left forearm, bleeding profusely. After much protest from him, once you get down the mountain you insist on bringing him to the hospital. Even though he whines for a bit, you call Yunho; the one person you can count on to bring him there in one piece.

He picks up after the first ring.

"Papa's pizzeria, delivery or pickup?" Yunho asks, and you sigh, rubbing your forehead. These two idiots are plucked from the same tree.

"Woo is hurt and I need you to take him to the hospital," You hear him stumble over something in the background, and your frown deepens. Maybe you'll just bring him yourself? You already have to deal with enough as it is, and if you're being honest with yourself, delaying your editing for another day won't do much to your workload. You'd still procrastinate until the last second.

"How hurt? Did he get his finger stuck in the garbage disposal again?" You hear him fumble with something, "I told him to stop sticking things down there, and here we are."

"I think he'll tell you the story once you get there, since he won't let me bring him," You glance back at pouting Woo, "I think he's a bit embarrassed," You whisper.

"I'm right here!" He complains, and you snort.

"I'll be there in ten minutes, make sure he elevates his finger and stays away from the sink. I'll wait in the car-" Yunho stops in the middle of his talk. “Wait. Please tell me he didn’t try that butt thing again.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Wooyoung takes the phone out of your hand, and you stare at him, a brow raised. He turns away from you, but you can still see the blush that brushes his cheeks.

“Stop saying stupid things and get here already before I bleed out and die, okay?” He ends the call, turning to you. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

-

Yunho stands across from Wooyoung, clicking his tongue as he examines the abrasion on his arm. "What did you do, fall off a cliff?" He scolds, and Wooyoung looks at you, a grin cracking his face.

"If you weren't so busy saving lives, I wouldn't have done this to get your attention," Wooyoung says with confidence and a wink, not noticing how red the tips of Yunho's ears get.

"Let's go to the hospital before this thing gets infected." His eyes flick to yours. "Are you okay being alone? Unless you want to come with us."

"Nah, I'm good. I have to finish up some work before leaving. Woo, please let Yun take you and don't try to convince him otherwise," You glare at Wooyoung, rubbing warm water on your cut. Yunho notices the slight winces you do, and glances in the sink.

He frowns. "I'm a doctor, and you're asking for me to ignore your hand. Sometimes, I wonder if Wooyoung's the idiot."

"Hey!" You protest, and he takes your hand out of the sink, examining it closely.

"It's only a surface wound, nothing too big. Just clean it and put a bit of antibiotic on it and change it every six hours. Let it breathe a little before replacing the band-aid and you'll be fine." He says, smiling at you.

Jeong Yunho. Before meeting Wooyoung, Yunho has been your friend for several years; probably since you were small kids, running around the playground. You were close, perhaps a little too close. Your other friends always insisted that you two should date, because you were compatible, but god, you know too much about him to even give it a second thought. He's pretty, you'd give him that. But if you could barely stand Wooyoung's jokes; Yun's were on another level. He couldn't stand five minutes without saying something stupid.

And you love him, you do. But if you had to stand that for more than a day you're sure you'd go mad. Handling one of them is enough to give you a slight headache. But two? Absolutely not. You'd rather fall down that mountain.

"Thank you Yun," You say and he nods quickly, turning back to Wooyoung.

"Time to get your ass to the hospital. I would help you myself, but technically I'm not allowed to since I haven't seen your chart," he says, and Wooyoung only rolls his eyes. He glances at your bag quickly.

"Hey, I'll look more into that orb thing okay? Don't miss my call or else, y/n," he points a finger at you, before following Yunho out to the car. You wave them off, a coffee in hand. Once they drive far enough away, you close the door behind you.

You dig through your bag, placing the orb back in its spot by the window. You think back to the river, a frown on your lips as you stroke the sphere. It still had plenty of water in it, but not enough, you think. You wish silently that it goes back to its original shape, worry about your features. Global warming is a bitch.

You let go of the ball, placing your cup in the dishwasher and stretching your arms. You're exhausted from everything that's happened today, but you still have to edit that angst, sobbing-over-your-popcorn story. So you puff out your chest, taking one last look at the shiny orb shining softly before walking into your dungeon.

-

Wooyoung is fine, he just had a few bruises and they stitched up his abrasion on his arm. Yunho told you the whole story, from Wooyoung's loud screaming to the nurse frantically looking at him and asking if he needed to be sedated. And even with Yunho there, Wooyoung almost stopped the circulation of blood in his arm from how tight he was holding onto him. You can only imagine how dramatic he was; Wooyoung is all bark and no bite.

You flick off a stray leaf from your arm. Some would say you're out of your mind for coming out there without even a week passing since you two almost killed yourselves crossing the river. You know Yunho would have a fit, locking you inside your home and not letting you see the light of day for a month minimum. But you consider yourself a bit fearless, so what's so bad about climbing the mountain again? Seeing the pretty water and having a picnic next to the river?

You finally make it to the spot. A rush of calm flows over you as you set up your spot, lightly flapping your blanket over the forest floor and taking out your small snacks. You sit next to the water as you sip your tea. There's so much more water now, completely different from a couple of days ago. A bit of it splashes against the sides of the bank, some falling over you like a mist. You hum softly, taking a bite of your sandwich.

Your eyes flick over to the other side of the river, and you stop what you're doing. A small cabin is there; it's dark wood almost masking itself against the foliage behind it. You raise your eyebrows in confusion. That couldn't have always been there; there was no way you and Wooyoung would miss it. You tuck the rest of your food away, standing up.

Vines creep along the sides of the small home, flowers decorate the bottom of the windows. It looks a bit old but well kept, signs of someone living there clearly seen. A small part of you is curious, fingers itching to see what's inside. But you shake your head. There could be someone in there right now, and you could be invading their space. You glance down at the blanket.

You could be on someone's property right now.

You crouch down, folding up your blanket as quickly as you can. A creak makes you stop what you're doing, eyes moving back across the river. A man locks the door behind him, staring down at the river. His eyes move along the bank, confusion in his gaze. You look back down, packing away your things. No need to attract more attention to yourself. You shove it in your bag, looking back across the water.

The man's eyes are frozen on yours, an unnaturally bright blue, almost as translucent as the water below you. You don't move, his eyebrows furrowing as he stares at you. You feel a strange feeling roll over you, your skin prickling and your hairs standing straight up. Whatever this man... thing is, you know he's not friendly. He takes a step forward, and your body moves into overdrive. You throw your bag onto your back, running through the forest.

You try your best to leap over the rocks and fallen sticks in your way, desperate to get away from him. You hear the stomping of his feet behind you, your heart beating in your ear blocking out most sounds. Your feet catch onto a piece of bark sticking out of a stump, and you stumble before falling onto your back. You hear his steps getting closer and closer, and you try standing up, but curse, staring at your leg. A deep gash covers your calf, and you try your best to hold back your tears.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His voice is right behind you, and you tense up, quickly turning your head around to face him. He stands above you, arms crossed. His blue eyes narrow, pupils similar to a snake's. He cocks his head to the side, glancing quickly at your leg before flicking back to your face.

“Why are you here?”

You open your mouth, before closing it. This man could be a serial killer, ready to kill you at the slightest mistake in your words. You’re sure that he knows what you’re thinking from the inquisitive look in his eyes. He’s waiting for you to lie, he’s waiting for you to make something up.

“I was having a picnic. Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t know this was someone’s property–"

“You shouldn’t be able to see me.” He says plainly. “How can you see me? Have you visited a witch? Are you dying?” He presses you for answers, taking a step closer. “Tell me now, Human.”

This whole situation is getting weirder by the second, so you shake your head, trying to drag yourself away from him. He grabs onto your arm, glaring at you. The bright blue pierces through you, and you quickly realize that they aren’t contacts or a stylistic choice. His eyes are really that color.

“Answer me.”

“Let go of me first, creep.”

He glances at your leg again, before letting go of your arm. You lift yourself onto the stump that tripped you up, breathing heavily. The blood leaks out of your leg slowly. You feel yourself getting lightheaded, and you rub your eyes.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this. If you want to report me to the police or something, can you just do it already? I don’t think I’ll last much longer.”

“Are you feeling faint?” He asks, crouching down to touch your leg. You wince as he brushes your cut. “You can’t leave the mountain like this.”

“Of course I can’t, idiot-”

“But I cannot help you. I need to know where Yeouiju is first. I can sense it on you.” He says, pulling back.

You huff in irritation. “I don’t know what a Yeouiju is! Can’t you just help me?”

“Yeouiju has gone missing ever since you appeared, Human. It rested in the soil next to the river. It has gone missing ever since you traveled across the waters.” His eyes move to your bag, before looking at you. He knows it’s in there, but he hasn’t said a word. “If it is not in my hands, terrible things could happen.”

You open your bag, taking it out. “I didn’t realize it wasn’t yours, I’m sorry.” You give it to his open hands, and he sucks in a shaky breath as it touches his skin. You see the stone glow slightly, before he places it in his pocket.

“You made a wish.” He says softly, “And you didn’t use it for yourself.”

It seems like he’s waiting for you to respond with something, but you keep your thoughts to yourself. He stares at you, frustrated. He shakes his head slowly, lifting you up and pressing you against his chest. You yelp, wrapping your arms around his head. His skin is cold, your hands shivering against it. He walks through the forest with ease, barely rocking you. You come to the river, and he glances down at you.

“Close your eyes, human.”

You hold them tight, and he walks. You’re not sure how he gets over the water so easily, but you open your eyes as he opens the door to his cabin. He places you down on his sofa, telling you to stay put as he disappears into another room. His home is cozy, a fireplace in the corner crackling, filling the silence. Everything looks handmade; from the chairs at his table to the clock on the door to the cabinets lining the walls. He has candles in every corner of the room, flickering softly. And the floor is… moist. You're sure every surface of the wood is wet.

You notice that he doesn’t have electricity anywhere in the house, a wood burning stove in the living room and it looks like the kitchen doesn’t even have running water. You try moving your leg but pain strikes up your calf, and you let out a low groan, biting your lip. Here you are, in a stranger’s home without anyone knowing. You curse yourself for leaving your phone at home, even though it’s no use; there’s no signal out here.

-

Yeosang stands in the opposite room, staring down at Yeouiju. He doesn’t quite understand how you were able to see and wield the orb; it could only be held by wise ones, and ones of pure heart. He hasn’t seen a human hold it in ages; it always sat outside, a stray passerby oblivious to its presence. And yet, you hold it without even knowing its power, using your wish to refuel the river’s waters.

He frowns, placing Yeouiju back on his shelf. Many humans who were able to see it in all its glory used their wishes on selfish things; riches, glory, full health for themselves, immortality. But you, you used yours to help a river. Once you took it from its holy spot, he felt the pain of it being gone from his presence in his chest, a hole ripped out cleanly.

He rubs his chest, but it feels different ever since he touched the stone. He knows that something is off, something the other gods didn't tell him about. He runs his fingers through his hair, glancing back at the stone before walking out.

-

"I told you to stay still." He says as he walks back in.

You finally take in his appearance. He's wearing old clothes, loosely fitting to his form. White shirt and cargo pants, though his shoes are oddly clean. He kicks them to the side, staring at you. His hair is blond, overgrown and covering a bit of his eyes. He walks to you, holding a small, leather bag in his hand. He sits on the floor next to you, digging through his bag. You see him take out small clothes, he sniffs it once before looking down at your leg. He frowns, glancing up at you.

"It was foolish of you to run. You could have hurt yourself more than this," he takes out small tweezers. "Close your eyes if looking at me doing this is uncomfortable."

Before he begins, you move your leg away. He sighs, dropping his arms.

"What's the issue?" He asks, already exasperated. "This will be finished quickly if you cooperate."

"How do I know you're not going to poison me or something? Or is this your evil plot to lure me into your home and keep me as your pet? Huh?"

He stares at you. He pulls your leg close to him, holding it tightly. He blows on your leg softly, and you feel it grow numb at his breath, and you widen your eyes.

Okay, at this point you can only come to one conclusion. This must be some weird dream of yours. Though it is a first, seeing someone like him. You try to calm your heart as he leans forward, slowly picking out small pebbles and other debris. The silence is comforting, but your curiosity is lingering as you look at him. There's something off about him, from his eyes to his calm demeanor to his strange home in the mountains. And there's more to it, but you just can't figure it out. His eyes flick up at yours, emotionless.

"Are you going to stare at me the whole time, or ask your questions?" He asks softly. "I will not tell you my name, and I will not tell you why I have a home in the mountains, or about Yeouiju. But you may ask about other things, and I'll decide if I want to answer."

So the things you want to know, he's not going to say. He digs into your skin as you try pulling away, but his grip is so strong and steady that it doesn't even faze him. His pupils widen as he focuses on cleaning your wound.

"Why don't you have electricity?" You ask softly.

"Why have man-made things when you can live off the Earth? She has given us everything that we need, there is no use for electrical appliances. I have candles, and I have wood. I live near a river. Nothing more is needed." He says simply. "I am going to cleanse your wound, please tell me if the pain is too great."

He slowly dabs the cloth on your skin, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Not finding any, he turns back to your cut.

"Why did you decide to help me? To bring me to your home?"

He stops cleaning for a moment, and you wonder if you asked too much. He closes his eyes for a moment before speaking.

"The River told me that you were pure, the waters flowing through the mountain whispered to me, and I only listened. There is nothing more to that." He takes out his butterfly stitches, looking at you. "Close your eyes, it will hurt less."

"No, I'm fine—"

"Close your eyes, I don't have time to argue with you about this. Just, close your eyes."

You glare at him but shut your eyes, putting your hand over them. He huffs, then begins to take care of your wound. You could barely feel his touch, the light brushes against your skin still cold. You wonder if it's because he doesn't have heat, but the fireplace should suffice, right? And it's almost the end of Winter; Spring is right around the corner. Wait, why are you worrying about a man who lives in the woods? He's probably been here for years and knows how to live without assistance from you. You aren't his friend; why are you even thinking about it?

Your eyes flick open, moving to the stone necklace resting against his chest. Carved into each stone are symbols you don't quite recognize, a light blue peeking out from the strokes. He grunts, and your eyes move back up to his. He frowns, looking down at your leg.

"You need to rest before leaving; it will be too hard to hike back down the mountains with a wound like this," he stands. "I'll give you some of the stew I made earlier since you didn't finish your lunch." He doesn't ask if you want any, walking back to the kitchen.

He looks back at you sitting next to the fireplace, hand reaching out to feel the waves of heat flowing off of it. Your hair has leaves sticking out of it, some falling to the floor without much notice from you. He leans on the counter, running his fingers through his own.

They will not approve of him having a Human in his home; he knows that. He can only imagine what his brothers might do if they stepped into here, fresh off a trip to see Mother. Eyes moving to the Human in the room, bringing less hospitality with their stares than him. Perhaps San will accept you, but it is a reach. Even though he’s the brother with the most light-hearted mind, he's furious when he needs to be.

He reaches over, taking out a wooden bowl from his cabinet and opening the lid to the stew. Steam moistens his face as he places chunks of meat and potatoes into your bowl. He looks at you again, and this time, you're staring out the window. You rock your not-injured leg, too deep in your thoughts to notice his stare. He places his hand in the water, breathing slowly.

He almost drops the bowl at the sudden onslaught of emotions. He closes his eyes, teeth grinding as his heart swells in his chest, a ringing in his ears and his hand shaking. He's not able to produce sweat, he knows that, but he feels it fall from his cheek. His eyes dilate, looking at you. The word keeps on chanting over and over in his head, and he tries his best to suppress it. Because it cannot be. You are an ordinary Human, it is impossible-

Mate.

"Hey, are you alright?"

You turn to him, and jump. He's trembling; tears falling down his cheeks and sweating more than you've ever seen. You stand, limping slightly.

A small breeze drifts through the window, and he tries to hold his breath. But the creature in him takes control, awakening. The sweet smell of your pheromones brush his nostrils, tickling his nerves. He closes his eyes again, struggling to tell you to stop moving. If the counter wasn't between you and him ...

"Don't move." He says, voice rumbling.

You immediately stop, as his eyes burn into yours. They're completely black as they look at you, the pretty, crystal blue gone. You see as he clenches the counter with his hand, as if he's struggling to keep himself from jumping over it.

Mate. Mate with her, she is yours.

The same words continue in his head over and over, becoming too much to bear.

"Leave, now." He says.

You look outside, the sunset almost turning into the starry night sky. But if you're honest, you'd rather deal with the woods than the strange man in front of you, whose eyes move to every flick of your muscles, neck strained. You grab your bag quickly, limping out the door. Before you leave, you turn back.

"Uh, thanks. For helping me. And I'm sorry I stole your stone."

You shut the door, quickly hobbling across the river, ignoring the loud crashing sounds behind you. You don't know what's up with him, but you don’t want to know. Not really. God, Wooyoung and Yunho would laugh if you told them about this, about meeting a strange guy in the woods and going into his home. Well, scold you first, before bursting into laughter. Telling you that you hit your head a bit too hard on the ground, that you should've gone to the hospital along with Woo. That you have a concussion.

You shake your head at your silly thoughts, your flashlight guiding you back home.

-

You shut the door behind you, taking stuttered breaths. You toss your phone to the side, running your fingers through your hair. Leaves catch onto your nails, and you grunt, tossing them in the small bin next to your door. Whatever the fuck just happened, you wish you can just push it out of your mind, toss it to the side and pretend that today is just another ordinary day.

You throw yourself onto your couch, a nightly routine. A shot of pain goes up your leg, and you hiss, looking back down at it. He bandaged it up pretty well, neatly cleaning off your wound and leaving only the aligned butterfly bandages behind. You run your fingers along the side of it, humming to yourself softly. Was he high? His face was so red, but it just looked like he smelled something terrible.

You reach for your remote, turning on National Geographic. MythBusters is on, talking about the loch ness monster and dragons. You raise your brow, relaxing into the cushions. As he begins his trip to some Forest in China, you hear the familiar beep of your phone. You glance at the caller ID, and see Wooyoung's kissy face. Is he already fine and dandy? You were sure that he caught something with that deep gash. You answer, balancing it between your ear and neck.

"What's up-"

"Where is the stone? y/n, tell me that you don't have the stone anymore," he says through rushed breaths. It sounds like he's run a marathon, gasping through your phone. You lean away slightly.

"Your voice is muffled Woo. Move away from your mic," You complain. "But yes, the stone is back where it's supposed to be. Out of my hands. Deep in the mountains, never to be seen again."

"Thank God. I was researching about it and it talked about it having omnipotence power, and it belong to the ancient dragons-"

You hear a soft knock on your door, and you lean over your couch, looking through the side window next to your door. You see a figure standing there, completely still. Wooyoung continues to yap about the end of the world and something about serpents as you groan, standing and stretching. The banging gets louder, and you sigh.

"What? Who are you?" You yell.

"y/n?" Wooyoung says, "When did you go to the mountains? Did you go alone?"

"Woo, shh. There's someone at the door-"

"Who's at the door, y/n?" You hear the nervousness in his voice. "Fuck, can you just answer me already? I'm about to piss myself."

You walk to the door, but stop, staring at the small window. You can recognize that frame from anywhere. Large body almost blocking the whole window, blue eyes shining through the glass. Your hand shakes, barely listening to Wooyoung's rants into your phone.

"y/n, tell me who the fuck–"

"What did you say, Woo? About the stone and the dragon?" You say softly, your eyes never leaving his.

"Well, it's not a well known story, but sometimes there's a four-toed, Korean dragon that carries a stone called Yeouiju, carried either in its mouth or claws. This is all legend, but it says that whoever is worthy of it and carries the stone, will have the blessing of the gods. Something about the abilities of omnipotence and creation at will. Almost like a wish fulfilling stone, y/n. And it also mentions something about if dragons lose their hold of the stone and is found in the hands of another, they are destined."

"Destined?" You say breathlessly. The door begins to shake, a smile slowly forming on the man's face. You hear a small mhm from Wooyoung as he continues.

"Yup. Whoever is able to hold the stone, is destined to be with one another. Like mates, I guess."

The door begins to rattle after Wooyoung finishes. You take a step back from the door, eyes wide.

"I don't know what that stone that you found was and I know you don't believe in things like this, so please just drop the skepticism for a bit and listen to me. Don't go back for that stone, y/n. It's better to just pretend that it doesn't exist, and live your life without it. I'd rather you not go up the mountains either."

The door groans under his weight, small cracks slowly forming. You move into your kitchen, looking at your phone.

"Wooyoung," You say softly.

"Yes, what's up?" You don't respond after a moment, and he begins to panic. "y/n? You never told me who's at your door? What's wrong?"

"Do you really believe in this whole dragon thing? Because if you do, I'm ninety-fucking-percent sure he's right outside my door," You say. Wooyoung doesn't say anything for a moment, before a chuckle erupts through the phone.

"Don't shit me right now, y/n. Wait..." he trails off, before speaking again. "What happened when you dropped off the stone? y/n, this isn't funny, I'm being serious."

The banging gets louder. You wince each time, putting your phone on speaker, your hands shaking too much to hold it.

"I met a guy in the woods, Woo. His house was weird, he didn't have electricity and his eyes looked like some type of lizard's... And I ran back home, Woo. He told me to leave, and I did. But right now, the man I found in the woods is outside the front door, and he wants to come in."

You hear crashing through the line, and things thrown all over the place.

"y/n, do not open that fucking door. y/n, go hide somewhere, in your room or something–"

"Why won't you let me in?"

His voice echoes in your home, and your eyes flick back to the door, seeing him staring right at you, even through the tempered glass.

Nothing will happen, don’t you want to see me? I won’t hurt you. Just listen to me, okay? Open the door, and everything will be fine.

The cracks in the wood grow, and you feel your heart beating in your ear. The dark wood is slowly coming apart, and Wooyoung is too far to come and save you. You're on your own.

"I'm on my way, y/n, please go hide somewhere, don't open that door! I'm not going to hang up the phone, okay? I'll be on the line with you," he says, and you hear him zipping up his coat. It takes him over an hour to get there every time, and even with him speeding he could only knock off about twenty minutes. And that's if he doesn't run into city traffic.

Your phone beeps, blinking and showing you your low battery.

1%.

Who are you talking to? Is that your mate?

His voice drips with jealousy, and you're sure if you stay on the line any longer–

"Woo, I'll have to hang up now, but I'll make sure to call you back, alright? My phone is running out of charge." You say, hearing the curses fall from his lips.

"Don't you hang up on me!"

You click the end call button, keep your eye on the door as you plug it into your charger in your kitchen. The thumping slows down a bit, and you hear a soft knock on the wood.

I'm sorry for making you walk down the mountain alone, but I was with you the whole time. I didn't let you out of my sight.

That was the feeling that itched your skin, making you turn back every couple of seconds. He was protecting you– no. No, he was chasingyou.

Why don't you let me in, y/n? I want to check up on you, make sure everything is okay.

You shake your head, though you're not sure if he could see that gesture. You're too scared to speak to him, to say a word that'll show your weakness. Show how desperately your body wanted you to fling that door open. You don't know what's gotten into you, but the pull, the urge to see him is slowly overcoming your rational thoughts.

Are you feeling okay, y/n?

You love the way your name rolls off his tongue, familiar and yet, not. He slowly pushes his body against the door, waiting for you to say something to him.

I know you want to speak to me, please. Just say something so that I know you're okay.

You wrap your fingers around the edge of the counter, keeping your eyes to the floor.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," You whisper. You're not sure if he hears you, until a low moan falls from his lips, his jiggling of the door handle increasing by the second.

You sound like you need my help. I can hear it in your voice, you need me, don't you? You feel that, you feel that feeling rolling over you? I can smell you from here, y/n. I know you want me. I know you want me to make love to you, don't you?

You fall into your stool, wrapping your arms around your body, legs tight together.

Want me to fill you up with my cum, have you shaking with how good I pump into you? Biting into your neck, sucking marks into your skin. I bet you'll like that, right?

You try to control your breaths, but a low moan falls from your lips, and you hear him fall to the ground. The TV is too low to hide the sound of him unzipping his pants. Too low to cover his loud moans as he rubs himself just outside your door. You can only imagine the sweat dripping down his forehead, head thrown back and eyes tight as he fucks himself into his hand.

Fuck, I'm here, y/n. Just open those legs for me, hm? Don't you want me to smell you? To suck your clit, to make you cum? Just open them. Do it for me, now.

His voice turns aggressive at the end, and you don't move. You know what will happen if you do. And you're not sure if you'd want to stop yourself from throwing that door open, taking him without a second thought.

You're mine, you know that right? Since you grabbed my stone, we're destined for one another. No mortal will make you feel like I do. I can hear you panting, you know. I can see you, sitting there. Struggling to listen to me, trying your best to keep yourself in that chair.

I know you're thinking about me fucking you. Opening the door and shoving you against the wall, shoving my cock into you without a second thought.

He stops moving for a second, standing up. He begins hitting the door, the brute force breaking off one of the hinges. You need to hide now. You look from the floor to the glass, and between the foggy texture, you see something peeking through. Are those… wings?

His eyes meet yours, and his name rumbles in your mind. It isn't from his mouth, you just feel it being given to you.

Yeosang.

You get up from your chair, not thinking about the repercussions of your actions. Not thinking about how he can smell you. He grunts loudly, slamming himself against the door harder. You run into your bedroom on the opposite side of the house.

Your eyes move all over, before they rest on your closet. It's such a typical place to hide, but you have no other choice. Then your eyes move to your bathroom, but you shake your head. No, that'll be the first place he'll check. You quietly open your closed door, shutting it behind you with a slight click.

You hear your door being kicked in, and you flinch, cursing at yourself for not checking your phone charge before running in here. You hear his soft footsteps as he walks around your home, your breaths hushed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says softly, voice echoing throughout the empty hallways.

You say nothing, not daring to even move an inch. The door squeaks open, and you press your hands over your mouth, eyes watering. Your hands shake as you hear his slow breaths. You know he doesn’t want to hurt you, deep down you know that. But the fear of the unknown, the fear that he’s actually here to damn you for taking his Yeouiju, makes you think otherwise.

“Why didn’t you open the door?” He asks, stopping in front of the closet. His finger scratches the wood, and you hold in your sobs. “Aren’t we meant to be together?”

The door flings open, and you scream, covering your face. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to steal the stone, please!”

Hands pull you up, and you yell, trying your best to fight against him.

“y/n! Y/n! Hey, listen to me! I’m not him, I’m Woo! Hey, hey,” He says, and you open your eyes, looking at the soft brown eyes of your best friend. “Hey, calm down. Just breathe, alright? I’m here, no one’s going to hurt you.”

He pulls you into his arms, trying his best to calm down the shakes that just won’t stop vibrating through your body. You cry against his shoulder, clutching so hard against him you’re sure you’ll leave bruises.

“Don’t you ever fucking hang up on me, alright? Don’t you ever do that to me again.” He says sternly, and you feel his tears drip onto your neck. “Fuck, you scared the shit out of me, I thought… I thought-”

He doesn’t say it, but you know. A small knock makes you jump, and Wooyoung holds you tight, standing in front of you and turning to the door. Yunho stands there sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.

“I know you said to stay in the car, but it’s so dark out there and the loud music could do only so much, ya know?” He glances behind Wooyoung, meeting your eyes.

“So I heard you caught the eye of a dragon?”

-

Wooyoung stands in the kitchen, flipping an omelet. His eyes stare at you through the window, watching you swing yourself softly on the swing. Yunho stands next to him, balancing on one leg. His eyes follow his gaze, and he sighs.

“You haven’t taken your eyes off of her for days, Woo. She’s fine.”

Wooyoung looks down at the pan, shaking his head. “She says she’s fine, but I know she’s not, hyung. She pretends, you know that. She always says that she’s okay, but then I hear her crying in her room, telling us that it’s just an emotional movie. Every time she goes into the bathroom alone, she locks the door and takes less than two minutes in and out. She’s anxious; and she’s trying to hide it from us.”

Yunho nods slowly. “So, this dragon thing, it’s real?”

Wooyoung knows he doesn’t want to believe it. Believe that just up those mountains, a creature lays in wait, waiting for Yunho and him to leave so he can see y/n again.

“It’s as real as sliced bread,” Wooyoung murmurs. “I can’t believe it myself; but what else do you think broke in the door like that? And it was from the outside. No human or animals around here could do that much damage. And I’m sure that an elephant didn’t travel over here to knock down her door.”

“So, what do we do?” Yunho replies. “Do we bring her back to our apartment?”

Wooyoung elbows him, ignoring the smirk on his face. “I haven’t told her about that yet, idiot.”

“Better now than never,” Yunho shrugs. “But I’m being serious. We know she hates the city, but if she’s too afraid to stay alone, well, if we’re too afraid to let her, then we should bring it up.”

Wooyoung grumbles. You already have so much on your plate; dealing with the head editor at your job, this dragon nonsense. Bringing up his new relationship with your childhood friend would probably bring more stress to your life. Wooyoung frowns as he stares at his egg, taking a small bite.

“Fine, we’ll bring it up. But let me tell her first, okay? I think it’s better for her to hear it from me.”

Yunho shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me. I think she’ll be happy you finally have some dick in your life.” Yunho narrowly misses Wooyoung’s spatula, laughing as he chases him around the house, the stove of course, safely turned off.

-

“This is not possible. A wise one never mates with a mortal, a Human of all the possibilities,” Seonghwa says through clenched teeth, staring in disgust at his younger brother. “What have you done?”

“Do not scold him so much, Seonghwa. He must have made some sort of mistake, I cannot see Yeosang’s mate being a Human. It is impossible.” Jongho says, defending his brother. “He is the wisest of us all, don’t be so harsh.”

“Or perhaps he would like for this to happen,” San says, eyes on his brother. Yeosang says nothing, listening to their complaints. “He has always followed what Mother says, but at some point, we all rebel. This may be his time.”

“You all are being harsh,'' Mingi mumbles, staring at the blood on the couch. It smells like Human, the stench not too bad on his nostrils, since he has been infatuated with one before. He looks at Yeosang’s tired eyes. “I trust Yeosang with my whole life. Let him explain himself first, please.”

“Fine,” Seonghwa murmurs. He glares at Yeosang. “Explain, now.”

Yeosang keeps his eyes on the floor, exhaustion not the only thing taking a toll on his body. He hears his inner dragon desperately wanting to leave his home, and run to yours, completing the mating ritual. A chain attached to his legs, made with the toughest metals that Earth can provide. It wraps around his kitchen counter; keeping him in his place.

He stares at the chain for a moment, before sighing, pushing his long locks away from his face.

"The dragon told me, this was not my choice and never will be. I just helped her in the forest, tended to her wound. And then when I was about to feed her, I felt the pain in his chest. The overwhelming feeling of the beast trying to claw himself out and mate with her. My dragon is never wrong, even in this Human form. This is why I have myself chained up. Even now, it wants to shred the four of you apart to get to her. And your insults are only fueling the anger in my chest."

He looks at them, and Mingi tries his best to hold in his shock. Scratches cover his face from his claws, slowly healing. Dried blood stains his cheeks but he couldn't even begin to notice. He sees the tightness in his brother's jeans, the reigned in anger that keeps him from leaping at the rest.

Because he has felt this way before.

"Hyung," Mingi mumbles softly. "We all know what happened when my lover was a Human. I am afraid. Afraid that the same would happen to you and y/n. I don't think... I don't believe we should allow you to see her again, or vice versa. It is for the best."

A low growl rumbles in his chest, and the others stare at him, ready for an attack at any given moment. But Yeosang closes his eyes, calming himself.

"We are ancient ones; there is no reason we should even be able to have mates," San mumbles, rubbing his forehead. His red hair is striking compared to the rest of them; but he is a fire dragon. It is expected for him to look this way. "Why did Mother insist?"

"She wanted us to have a chance at a normal Human experience. Ever since she gave us this," Seonghwa gestures to his body in disgust, "Human form, she has wanted us to assimilate into everyday society. But Yeosang has kept to himself, as well as the rest of us." Seonghwa looks to Yeosang, white hair covering his light pupils, almost translucent. He wears his brown human contacts when necessary; but he prefers to let his eyes breathe.

"You should have left that Human to die. It is the natural order. I know that you are... slightly leaning to caring for them, but they are not like us. And you seemed to have forgotten that.

"I couldn't leave," Yeosang explains. "She had Yeouiju. I couldn't leave without retrieving it. Without it, our rivers will dry. Even if I am in control of the rain and river, that doesn't mean that I can stop it from drying out. Finding out I'm to mate with y/n, that was just a mistake."

Mingi shakes his head, brown hair and eyes more normal than the rest of them. Besides the reptile slits as pupils, nothing else was out of the ordinary. At least, from what the normal Human could see.

"I don't approve, Yeosang."

"I heard you the first time," he grumbles. "But this is not our only issue."

Seonghwa tenses up, and San speaks. "What is it now?"

"I am not the only one that has a Human mate."

They all exchange looks, knowing exactly who he speaks of.

"What will we do about that? He hasn't been careful, but mother will approve. She will stop us if we ever interfere. She would scowl us."

"Make sure that he does no harm to the Human. Even though most of you despise the creatures, they are Mother's creations. Seeing them harmed only disturbs her rest. And we are the guardians. Yunho will stay in line." Yeosang is confident in his resolve. Yunho is the one that has spent the most time with the lesser beings. He knows how to be like a Human.

-

Yunho pouts as he stands at the door, Wooyoung next to him. You lean against the wall, rolling your eyes at the behavior. You're fine, and they continue to insist that you go with them. But from the lingering gazes Yunho gives his ass and the smirks Wooyoung sends his way, you've had enough. And you love them, you do. But the constant laughing at higher volumes than necessary and the toilet seat being up, you've had it. The only reason why you haven't kicked them out earlier is because they were worried out of their minds. But you're okay now.

For now.

"y/n, please eat more. You're stuck in that room all day and never come out. I'm serious," He adds, seeing the look on your face. "I bought vitamins and left them in your room. And if you need more—"

"Ah, Woo! She'll be fine, she is an adult not a child," Yunho complains. "And I've been standing here for ten minutes as you showed her around her own house and told her where her own things are. The new idol show is going to start soon, let's just go." Yunho pulls at Wooyoung, kicking him outside. He gives you an apologetic look.

"Call us if you need us. We're here for you, you know that, right?" He says softly. "I don't want you to be hurt, especially by this strange man. Call me if he appears. Do not hesitate, y/n."

You see the plea in his eyes, desperate for you to listen to his words. You nod, and he pulls you into a quick hug, squeezing you tightly before kissing your forehead and stumbling after Wooyoung. You wave to them as they go, your heart clenching. You know that you should have gone with them. If he wanted you this bad, he knows. He'll be waiting for you to be alone, and you're not sure if the feeling in your chest is anxiety or excitement.

-

You frown as you submit your edit of the chapter, shutting off your computer. You let out a long, breathy sigh, throwing yourself back in your chair. The wheels give it’s last sad effort and you yelp, falling back to the floor. The drop echoes around the house as you groan, small whimpers falling from your lips. You hear a loud bang, and you barely glance up, Wooyoung’s probably forgotten his underwear that he still didn’t take back. Hands reach and lift you from the floor with ease, and you laugh slowly.

“Don’t make fun of me I know I’m an idiot, Woo,” You say, reaching down to pick up your fallen chair.

Hands reach for it instead, and a cold shiver rolls up your spine. His hands are too big to be your best friends’. Your eyes follow his arms, meeting the light blue that you’ve tried to erase from your head. His hair is pulled back from his face, resting in a low bun. He looks at your shocked expression, and slides your chair under your desk. You take a step back once he moves forward, and he stops.

“I-”

“Why are you in my house? How did you get into my house? Why are you in my room? Get out!” You yell, eyes flicking to the phone text to your computer. He follows your gaze, shaking his head.

“Calling more Humans to assist you won’t make me go away. And I heard the sound, and I came as quickly as I could. Are you alright? You hit the floor pretty hard.”

As quick as he could? Was he waiting outside your door? You know that the hike from his home to yours is at least an hour, and that’s if you don’t stop to take a break. He takes in your confused expression, waiting for you to object, for you to scream and run away from him. You wear your thoughts on your face, your eyebrows furrowed and your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hair looks like you’ve ran your fingers through it over and over, and you’re wearing your sleepwear, loose on your frame.

His dragon rumbles inside of him, and he closes his eyes for a moment, too quick for you to think it’s more than just a blink. He opens them again, keeping his gaze with yours.

“Are you stalking me?” You ask, “Are you waiting outside my hours, waiting for the opportunity to pounce on me?” You know you sound crazy, but he’s crazy! He’s the one that broke your door, which led to Yunho standing there in confusion as he tried to fix it.

“No, I told you that I came-”

“Yea, you came when you heard the sound. But you had to be close, it’s not possible.”

“Are you sure it’s not possible? You know that I am not a Human,” he says simply. “Just accept it, and then you’ll understand that I can find you anywhere and be there within moments.”

He sits on the bed, and you hear something drag. You glance down, seeing chains wrapped around his ankles. He doesn’t explain why he has them, just stares at you.

“Please leave my house.” You say softly. “I don’t want you here, Yeosang.”

That shatters the expressionless look on his face. His mouth forms a small o, eyebrows tight in concentration. “You know my name. I haven’t told you my name, but you know. How do you know?” He stands this time, eyes flicking between yours. The pupils narrow into slits, blue darkening.

“I heard it. When you were outside my door, I heard your name whispered into my ear.”

He nods slowly. “So this is not a lie. It’s true, you are my mate, y/n.” He takes your figure in. “I cannot believe you’re my mate, a Human.” He says that last word with a bit of revulsion in his speech, almost hissing as it comes out. “I couldn’t … I didn’t think it was possible to mate with a Human. I didn’t think that Mingi was telling the truth, but you are here.” He reaches out, but moves his hand back quickly when you flinch. “I will not hurt you. You know that.”

“I don’t know that, Yeosang! I don’t know you, I have no clue who the fuck you are, and you continue to just barge into my home, thinking it’s yours. Saying that I’m your mate, but I’m not. I don’t even know your last name, I don’t know anything but the fact that you live in a small house in the middle of the forest and you’re horny as Hell!”

He snorts at that. “I’m not sexually aroused all the time. It’s just when I’m in the presence of my mate. My dragon inside of me wants to have children, that’s its goal. But when I’m alone, I’m fine. I don’t have the desire.” He looks at you, “I didn’t want this either. To be your mate. That’s why I live in the forest alone, away from Humans. I would rather be away from all of you, isolated and live on my own. But unfortunately, you decided to come into my forest and take Yeouiju. If you just left it alone, none of this would have happened.”

You stay silent at that. He sighs, tugging at a small hair that fell out of his bun. You notice that his fingers are lined with silver rings, each one has a strange symbol. Just like the necklace that rests on his neck. You look away, trying your best to comprehend whatever the Hell is going on right now.

He’s right; you’re not scared of him. Your chest leaped when he appeared, but a wave of calm fell over you once you realized it was him. Despite everything, you feel safe. With a man who claims he’s a big, bad dragon that lives in the woods. With a man who claims that he’s your mate. With a man that almost made you drop to your knees just a week or so ago because he told you to. You consider yourself an independent woman. Not listening to the begging of some man to shove his dick in you. And yet, you’ve been drooling over that night, wonder what would’ve happened if you opened the door…

“Stop.” He says, clenching his jaw.

“What? I didn’t even say anything!” You say, your face warming by the second. Oh God, you’re making a face, aren’t you? The fuck me face? How more embarrassing can this get?

“You didn’t need to, I can smell you. If you continue I won’t be able to stop myself.” He says simply. Your body shivers, and he growls.

“I said stop.”

“I am! I am, can you just go?” You open the door, gesturing out. “And never come back?”

He looks out into the hallway, closing his eyes for a moment. He opens them again, a tired look in his face. “If I leave, I will be back unfortunately. Even now, my dragon wants me to stay. To set up my nest here because your home is filled with the scent of you, and those other men,” He wrinkles his nose. “I thought that I could speak to you, about more than just mates. About why I am like this, and about my dragon that I mentioned and you don’t seem that fazed that I keep on saying it.”

Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung, this guy was right! Your nerdy best friend is right! You look at Yeosang, frowning. He doesn’t even look like a dragon, did he adapt as the years passed? Changing his form to walk among you humans easily?

"My friend, he's really into this stuff. He researches old objects and keeps many. A kind of Indiana Jones if you really think about it.”

Yeosang stares at you blankly and you can only sigh, your reference meaningless to his ears.

You rub your face, turning around and walking into the kitchen. He follows behind, a bit slow on his part. You start the coffee maker, before turning back to him. His eyes are empty, not even a peek into what he’s thinking. But you notice how they flick all over your kitchen, taking in the environment with caution.

"What are dragons?" You ask, staying a bit away from him. The counter is the only thing separating you, but he doesn't make any motions to get closer to you, and you're glad. "Are they giant lizards?"

Yeosang scoffs at that. "We are not giant lizards. We are..." He trails off. "The best description would be a mix between a lizard and a serpent. We are cold-blooded, and we mate for offspring in the early Spring."

You tense up at that, knowing that Spring just began.

"Is that why you picked me as your mate? Because it's early Spring?"

He shakes his head slowly. "No. Mother, when she created us we were supposed to guard our realms. Make sure the balance of the Earth always stays the same. But she noticed how lonely we were. You see, I don't often see my brothers. Since I am in charge of Earth's water, I have stayed alone on that mountain for millennia. No human has ever had the ability to see me or my cottage, because it is hidden from their eyes. But you," He looks at you. "You have changed everything. And a part of me is afraid of this. I've never wanted a mate, because..."

He looks down at his hands. "I have seen my brother care for a Human. And watch him die in his arms, unable to do anything. He wasn't his mate, but he cared for him like so. Mingi didn't deserve to get his heart broken like that, so I swore that I would never do the same. I would never interact with a Human, I will stay away."

"But your eyes met mine from across the river. At that moment, I knew that you were different. And you happened to be the one mother chose for me. A Human who would die in a few decades, only a few hours for a creature like me."

He told you the harsh truth. He doesn't want you, and it's not like you want him. You barely know him. But the feeling of rejection swirls in your chest, the burning sensation of knowing that you're unwanted making you want to vomit.

"Then why are you here? Is this supposed to make me feel better? Make me want to throw myself into your arms and thank your Mother that she made us mates? I don't know you, Yeosang. And I don't think I want to. Not after you basically called me a waste of time."

He winces at that. "I didn't mean to–"

His eyes turn to the open doorway, narrowing. He moves in front of you, blocking your view. You try to push him out of the way, but he glances back, glaring at you. You stay silent then, hiding behind his wide stature.

"What are you doing here?" He asks, emotion lost in his voice.

The new person laughs, and it's like magic to your ears. Not as pleasant and mouth watering as Yeosang, but pretty damn close.

"Ah, do you want to hide her from us now? We just wanted to take a peek at your mate."

"Leave." He says simply. "I told you to not involve yourselves in this, it'll only overwhelm her–"

"Overwhelm me? Why do you keep on treating me like a fucking kid?" You peek your head out from around him, and he sighs, letting you stand in front of him without much protest.

A man stands there, arms crossed as he tilts his head and takes in your figure. His eyes roam over your body, teeth biting his lower lip. His eyes rest of yours, filled with something you can't figure out. You wouldn't have noticed anything strange about him, but his eyes are a lighter brown.

"Yeosang didn't say you were a beautiful Human," his voice is smooth, slithering into your ear as he speaks. He takes a step forward, "Perhaps you'd want me instead?"

"Cut it out," The man standing behind him mumbles. His hair is a dark red, eyes matching the same. His eyes flick over you quickly, frowning. "She knows how easily you fell in love with a Human, and yet, she continues to do this to us." He tsks, looking away. "How despicable."

"San, Mother makes decisions for a reason. We must be grateful, she is the one who made us into who we are," The slick talker rebuttals. He looks back at you, nodding his head once. "Nice to meet you, I'm Mingi. The one with the bad temper is San. Seonghwa isn't here, he decided to go back to his Home."

Mingi looks at Yeosang, a small pout on his lips. "Don't hide your playthings from us anymore—"

A low rumble echoes around the room, stomping Mingi in his speech. You feel Yeosang move closer to you, almost inches away from pressing his back against yours.

"Watch what you say," he says.

San sighs. "He's already bonded, there's no use. If we remove her, it will only tear him apart."

Remove? Remove? Were they going to—

Yeosang feels your heartbeat race and he stands in front of you, wrapping an arm around you protectively. His skin is cold but it's comforting, his grip strong as he holds you to his side.

"I won't repeat myself, San. Remember your place. Both of you leave her home, now."

Mingi's face drops. "I'm sorry," he tilted his head to you. "To both of you. Please be well."

San sniffs, eyebrows furrowed. "Doesn't it smell like–" Mingi slaps his hand against San's lips, a nervous laughter erupting from him.

"Haha! Time to go, San. I'll see you back home, Yeosang. And it was nice meeting you, y/n. I hope to see you again soon."

Mingi pushes a resistant San out of your home, shutting the door loudly behind them as they leave. Your hand brushes lightly against Yeosang's arm, and he slowly lowers his chest, heart beat steadying to a normal pace.

"I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect them to show up here so quickly." He confesses, turning back to look at you. "And I understand if you don't want to be my mate. I'll just stay away."

You feel your body reject the idea. Tears spring to your eyes, your hands begin to shake, and your breaths kick up in speed. You shake your head, not wanting to meet his eyes."No. No, I mean... We can be friends, Yeosang. I don't want you to disappear. Not until I've given you a chance."

His somber expression fades as he takes in your words. "You don't have to do that to make me feel content. I'm okay with being away."

"Are you? Are you okay with not seeing me?"

His eyes move to the floor at that. He doesn't say anything, but as the old saying goes, actions speak louder than words. You nod slowly.

"Okay, then we can be friends. Just... when you come to my house, maybe knock before barging in? And don't break my door anymore please, it took Yunho way too long to fix it."

You see the disgusted look on his face, but before you can question it it fades away. He moves his head in agreement, slightly tilting it to you.

"I'm fine with that. When you are inviting people into your home, do you trust them? There are many who say they are something when they are not. You should be wary of that."

"No one that's come into this house is someone that I don't trust. At least, not until today."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't you trust my judgment?" You ask through clenched teeth. If he's referring to you not letting your best friends into your home, you'd shut it down immediately. They're the only people that you love and trust in this world. Not even him, your destined mate, can get in between that.

He sighs, mumbling words in a language you don't understand. He takes off his necklace, rolling the stones between his fingers for a moment. "You've kept your eyes on this for a while, so before I go I should tell you what this is. "When we were first created, all of us were given a token of Mother's love and protection. She gave me this necklace and the silver on my fingers. The symbols are something that your Human mind won't quite comprehend. But essentially, it protects you from danger and deep woes. Since... Since I worry for you, I would like it if you kept this with you."

You stare at it in his hands, his fingers brushing lightly over the stones.

"I can't take that—"

"I am a dragon, y/n. I do not need protection like this. And I have my rings, if you are worried about that. Please, this will make me feel better about leaving you alone without my protection."

Before he was complaining about having to be your mate, but now he's basically confessing his love for you. You nod, barely, and he takes a step forward, slowly dropping it on your neck. You think that some feeling will go over you, but there's nothing but the smell of him that surrounds you. He stares at the necklace on your neck, letting out a breath of relief.

"Please don't take it off unless I'm with you. Now that you're my mate, it makes you a target for beings that are too terrifying to name. Beings that lurk in the forest."

He hears your heartbeat pick up at that, and curses himself for scaring you.

"They won't come to you, I've already placed protection around your home. Nothing within a twenty mile radius will come to you unless I perish. And I am older than the stars."

You laugh, and his chest whines at the sound. He closes his eyes, trying his best to remember the beautiful symphony. His eyes move to how yours crinkle at the corners, how your nose scrunches up and your cheeks lift.

"I cannot believe the universe decided to make my mate a dragon that constantly reminds me that he's older than dirt. And people said Twilight was bad."

He listens to you mumble on and on about how unfair the world is and something about sliced bread. You look at him, and your eyes still. A small smile graces his lips, and it's one of the most ethereal things you've ever seen. You feel your cheeks warm at your thoughts. Watching him stand there, your doubts go away for just a moment.

"I'll see you soon, right?" He asks.

"Yes. Yes you will, Yeosang."

-

Wooyoung walks around your home, eyes flicking over everything. You watch him with mild curiosity, waiting for him to complain about the dishes not being done or something so minuscule that not even your dragon— Yeosang, would be able to notice.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He questions, worried. That's why you love him. Despite his annoying habits and a bit of overbearing behavior, he cares about you. He cares about you so much, and thinking about it almost makes you cry.

"I'm okay, Woo."

He takes a step closer, doubt in his eyes. "Are you sure? You don't need anything?"

"No, I'm fine Woo. All I need is you and Yunho, and I'm good. Answer my calls and whine for all I care, but I'm good. No more walking around here like a zombie, no more jumping at the slightest sounds. I'm good."

He runs his fingers through his hair.

"Fine, but stay away from that forest. I'll buy you one of those treadmills that makes you think you're walking in nature."

You chuckle, and he grins at how he finally got you to laugh. Your eyes move over to Yunho, your smile slipping slightly.

Ever since they've arrived, he's been off. He was all smiles until his eyes flicked over your figure, moving from your necklace to your home. He wrinkled his nose in disgust and sat on the couch, saying nothing else. Wooyoung didn't notice the change in his attitude, too worried about you. But whatever upset him, you just hoped it wasn't you. He didn't even laugh at any of your cheesy jokes or crack one of his own. Does he think that you're lying about how okay you are? Does he know that you're hiding something without saying it?

You've been on edge the whole time because of him, waiting for him to finally snap and say what he has to say. But he's kept his lips shut, staring ominously into the muted TV.

"Alright well Yun and I have a date later, but just text us if you need anything, alright? We're just a phone call away!" He hugs you quickly before pulling on Yun's shoulder. He stands, and you almost scream as his eyes meet yours.

They're completely black, filled with nothing. But he blinks and it's gone, as if you just imagined it. Yunho breaks out into a smile, different from his quiet behavior only moments ago.

"Take care of yourself, alright? Don't get into any trouble." He says the last word with a bit of anger, and you nod, letting the both of them walk out. As they shut the door behind them, you lean on the counter, eyes unfocused.

No. It was just a trick of the eye. It's not possible for him to have black pupils. You push away your silly thoughts, trying to think coherently. He's been your best friend ever since you were a child. Whatever you think you saw, it isn't true. You keep on telling yourself this, scrubbing the plates with much more vigor.

-

"Tell me more about Humans. Do you have lifelong mates, are there people you are destined for?" Yeosang asks as he watches you type on the computer.

You sigh, "No. Well, it's not like our bond. People sometimes choose someone to spend the rest of their lives with, and it's not fate or destiny. They go through problems, some may have multiple people they love. It just depends on how their life goes, ya know?"

You don't hear anything from him, and you continue to concentrate on the words in front of you. He seems to get the picture, moving away from you and walking around your room. You don't see him stop on your drawer, don't hear him opening the top one because of your immense concentration on your work.

Yeosang brushes his fingers on the fabrics, obviously your undergarments. His hands reach deeper, something solid touching the tips of his fingers. He pulls it out slowly, a large pink cock standing in front of him. He feels his face flush as he stares at it. Do Humans... pleasure themselves this way? He pokes it, a faint smell of your pheromones coating the outside. He quickly drops it into your drawer, slamming it with such might that you jump in your seat, turning around to look at him.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Pink cheeks and red ears greet you back, and your eyes move to the drawers behind him. You think about what you have in there, panic immediately reaching your eyes.

"Just... Don't look at people's stuff, alright? And haven't you lived for several millenniums? The first thing that you should've learned was privacy!" You hiss, and he nods, bowing quickly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize that you pleasure yourselves—"

"Stop! Stop, please don't make this more embarrassing than it already is."

He nods, and you turn back to your desk. Your eyes can't seem to concentrate on the task, and you throw your head to the desk in frustration. Yeosang moves back over to you, concern about his features.

"Why do you do things that upset you?" He asks softly. "Isn't it better to do more calming activities? I have seen you stressed since I've arrived, and that will only decrease your lifespan."

You can't help but pout, "I love my job. I just hate when I can't figure out how to edit something with better words. And I need money, Yeosang. Nothing comes easily in life."

He shrugs at that. "I live in the mountains with what nature provides. The only use of money to me is a way to start my fire. But I do see how focused Humans are on it. It's a major reason why you all suffer so greatly. You should look back to your ancestors and see that the simple life is best. But barely any of you know how to start a simple fire without the use of your tools."

He glances at your computer, hands crossed against his chest. "You stared at that for so long, you don't even realize that three hours have gone by." He glances at the time on your clock. "Would you like me to make something for you?"

You frown. "You don't even know how to work the oven, why would I let you near my kitchen?"

His lips lift up into a smirk, showing the ever elusive dimples in his cheeks. "I'll bring you to my home. Something is already cooking."

You think about the last time you were there, his eyes locked on yours as he struggled to hold himself together. Hands digging into his kitchen counter as you basically ran out, your leg straining in pain as you made your way down the mountain. You were terrified at the time; a bit of you still is, even if he's your mate.

"I won't hurt you," he says softly. "I can feel the change in your temperature, and hear the way your heart beat changes. I can't read your thoughts, but from this I know enough. I won't hurt you," he repeats. "That was my dragon out of control. It's never experienced a scent like yours before, but I've controlled it. And it won't dare to hurt you, it wants to only protect."

He rubs his forehead. "This... All of this is complicated. There's so much to explain to you, but I'm not sure if you'd like to hear it." His words are coming out in soft whispers, unexpected from such a vocal being like him. But he's nervous, hands shaking slightly as he pulls on his hair. You've grown to notice that it's a nervous habit of his.

"Let's go to your home," you say, and he visibly brightens up at your words. "And I don't think you'll do anything to hurt me. I trust you."

You trust him. His lips twitch, wanting to curve into a smile. But he's so scared of frightening you away that he only nods, not noticing your shoulders drop a bit at his dry reaction.

"We should leave soon, then. Before it gets dark out."

-

You still make him nervous when you're with him. The smell of you stuck in the air, whiffing around his small home. He keeps quiet though, checking and tasting his soup frequently. He's not sure what you like; salty or sweet, spicy or mild. It makes him panic a little, hoping that he satisfies you.

You sit in the living area, eyes on the fireplace flickering. His eyes trail along your exposed skin, landing on the junction between your neck and shoulders. He's been wanting to mark you as his since he's found out, but easing you into this is what's best. You don't know anything about him, and tying you to him that way will only break you two apart. Resulting in him being more broken than he already is.

It's hard, he wants to tell you everything, from his birth to now. Everything that he knows about dragons, wanting to see your eyes shine with curiosity at his words. But he holds himself in, not wanting to overstep. You're loud and blunt, you'll tell him when he's doing something wrong. He tastes the stew once more, nodding in satisfaction.

"You know," he looks at you, and you're turned back, smiling at him. "You don't have to make the stew perfect. As long as it's edible, I couldn't care less about the flavor."

"I just finished." He grabs a wooden bowl, thinking back to how only a couple of weeks ago, you were with him. Same scenario, but this time your leg is fine. The healing water, or cleaning liquid, that he poured over it, helped. He still hasn't told you about the small trick that he did, but that's for another time.

He takes two bowls and spoons, and walks over to you, trying his best to not trip. He's clumsy, he knows that. He passes the bowl to you and you thank him. He sits across from you, watching as you take the first bite into his mouth. You say nothing for a moment, face and body motionless.

"Is it too salty? I can add more water—"

"Yeosang, if you told me you were such a good cook I'd ask you to cook for me all the time!" You say, your face bright. "What the fuck! This is some Gordon Ramsay, some Bobby Flay type shit! It's amazing!"

He sighs in relief, sipping his slowly. "I'm glad you like it, y/n."

Your smile twitches. Your name falls off his lips easily, making your whole body shiver.

"You never said my name." You say softly. "To be honest, I thought you didn't know it. But you finally said it, so we're getting somewhere, right?" You say, and he nods.

"Yes."

You hold the hot chocolate in your hand, sitting closer to the fire. It has to be past midnight, your soft whispers echoing around the room. You two have talked about everything; from your rocky relationship with your family to your friends. He talked about his family life as well, and how much he loves the forest.

"What kind of dragon are you?"

"I control agriculture and water. That's why I keep my home so close to it, I can feel everything. I could even feel when you and your friend fell in. The water is connected to me in such a way that if I concentrate on it, I can feel the sea life that lives in its depths. And when the forest breathes, I do. Everything is connected," he puts his hand on the ground, closing his eyes.

"Can't you feel it?"

His smile grows on his face, and you stare in awe. He's showing you his true self; the sharpness of his canines and the beautiful lift of his cheeks. Eyes closed into small crescents and skin glowing with the flickering of the fire. You've never seen him so relaxed, free of woes and anxiety. It's a beautiful sight.

"Do you feel it, y/n?" This time his eyes are open, resting on yours. It's not a lust filled gaze, not emotionless. It's filled with... something you didn't expect to see.

Care.

"Yes, I can." You say, the double meaning behind your words apparent. He smiles softly, looking to the floor.

"It's not proper for you to stay at a dragon's home, but I cannot let you go back down the mountain at this time of night. Not that you won't be with me, which you will, but there's too much danger when it's the night. I would prefer it if you stayed here." He scratches the back of his head. "Ah, but I only have one bed. I can sleep on the couch while you rest there."

You place your cup on the stump coffee table, shaking your head quickly. "I can't just take over your bed."

"I'm not letting you stay in the living area, y/n." He says, not leaving room for protest. "There's spare clothing in my room, and there's running water as well. Please, take as long as you'd like. I'll wait for you to finish."

You purse your lips, and he raises his eyebrow, waiting for you to challenge him. But you're too exhausted to give a hint of your usual sass so you nod, standing up.

"My room is the last door to the right. And the bathing area is right across from it." He says, grabbing your cup and walking into the kitchen. You watch him for a moment before following where he tells you to go.

You push the door open to his room slowly, peeking inside. You aren’t sure what you expected; but this isn’t what you think a bachelor pad would look like. His room has shelves of books everywhere, some in languages you can’t even pinpoint. The earthy smell of Yeosang swirls around the room, and you take it in, the scent comforting. Scattered papers lay across his desk, but you ignore all of them, walking to his closet and peeking inside. It’s lined with mostly dark colors, so you grab whatever pops in front of your face before closing it quickly. A small thought dawns on you.

You don’t have any underwear.

Your eyes flick to the drawer in the corner, but you shake your head. Nope. Even if he’s your mate, he’s still a complete stranger and going through a stranger’s things is a no-no. You quickly walk out, shutting the door behind you. Going commando is a thing, and you’ll embrace it! You glance into the living area before going into the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

-

Yeosang sits on his couch, running his fingers through his hair. He can hear the scolding of his brothers in his head right now, telling him that this is a bad idea, being alone with you. Telling him that he should have rejected you long ago; that his presence in your life will only make it harder for him to resist you. Because technically, you aren’t his. Not until his marks cover you.

A small knock on his door makes him tense up. He’s been so lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear the pitter patter of his elder brother coming to see him. He walks in without a care, glancing around the open space before staring at Yeosang. He hasn’t dropped his glamor, eyes still the solid human brown. He frowns at Yeosang, closing the door behind him.

“Why have you brought her here again? Didn’t the others tell you how dangerous it is? You might hurt her, or worse. I thought you out of everyone would understand the risk.”

“I thought you would understand, since your partner right now is a Human. You’ve been around her for longer than myself and haven’t hurt her. Saying that I will is hypocritical.”

Yunho rolls his eyes. “You haven’t spent time with Humans in centuries. You find them revolting, you actively avoid their presence. And yet with y/n, you seem to do the complete opposite of what you usually do. Is this really because of Mother?”

Yeosang nods, but stops himself. “No. This is not only because of her. Yunho, I care about y/n. I do. She is different, much more different than the Humans I am used to. I don’t want to see her gone, not yet.” He mumbles. He can’t help but yearn for you, even when you’re still showering, oblivious to the conversation the two of them are having. “And you shouldn’t be here, anyway. You haven’t told her who you are, it’ll upset her when she finds out.”

“And I never was going to tell her, Yeosang. But, you messed everything up,” He growls in frustration. “All of the glamor I put on them, all of the backstory that I’ve made up so that she believes that we grew up with one another, you ruined it.”

“Just tell her!” Yeosang hisses. “y/n can take it. As well as Wooyoung.”

Yunho growls at the mention of his lover’s name, but that doesn’t stop him from continuing.

“She trusts you, and maybe her trust will sway a little, but in the end the two of you have been best friends since she was a child. You’ve spent more time with her than me, she won’t push you away.”

“You don’t know that,” Yunho confesses. “I care about y/n, more than you can ever know. I’ve had no problem with Humans since the beginning. I’ve seen the good nature in them, I’ve seen the destructive nature in them. I have seen them rejoice at their best and fall at their worst. y/n is a pure soul, and there are already very few. But with you… her soul will be tainted. And I don’t want that for her.”

“Mother wouldn’t make her my mate if it would have destroyed her soul.”

“I would agree if Mother wasn’t too occupied with other worlds to focus on ours. She doesn’t just have us as sons, Yeosang. Why do you think we rarely see here within a millennia? We aren’t her favorites, we are one of the first ones she’s created and abandoned. She won’t care about who she made our mates, or the outcome of it. She only cares about her most respected sons, the ones who can control whole planets on their own, not just elements.”

Yunho looks outside for a moment. “She couldn’t even think of one for me. She made me in charge of darkness. All I do is make the moon rise. You hold Earth’s waters in your hands. Mingi holds sunlight at his fingertips, Seonghwa controls the air we breathe and San controls fire. And I, darkness.” He looks at Yeosang, face solemn. “I am telling you this because y/n is more important to me than many things in this world. And I don’t want to be the one to console Wooyoung when you can no longer control the dragon within you, and hurt her in some way. And this isn’t me being a pessimist, this is me being realistic. Face it Yeosang, you aren’t capable of taking care of y/n the way you want to. You don’t even know what cell phones are.”

He sighs, pushing stray hairs from his face. “Just think about this more, alright? Don’t make a decision based on what Mother says, make it based on what’s in your head and heart. More so your head, because your heart only has that dragon controlling it.” He grumbles, taking one last look at the bathroom that you’re in before stepping out.

Yeosang watches him go, biting his lip, his arms still crossed against his chest. “Nice to see you after a few centuries too, Yunho.” He utters.

-

You wrap yourself in Yeosang’s blankets, the smell of him wrapping around you. You could hear Wooyoung and Yunho right now, screaming at you for even stepping outside your house without letting them know. Woo will probably combust from so much anger, Yun having to pick up the pieces from the floor. You puff, letting out a stressed breath. This is a bad idea. This is a really fucking, shitty ass bottom of the bottle, terrible idea.

Even though it’s almost 3am, you can’t even fall asleep. Your eyes won’t dare to shut no matter how much you squeeze them together. You’re not sure if it’s from nervousness or if you’re waiting for Yeosang to knock on your door and say something. You let out a low groan, pushing your blankets off of you and staring at the ceiling.

A mirror stares back at you, and you yelp, on the verge of screeching at your bed head staring back at you. What in the living hell? Why does he have a mirror? Does he watch himself sleep?? Is it a kinky thing? You gasp, staring at the sheets underneath you. Has he? On these sheets? You throw yourself out of the bed, paranoia running through your bones.

What the hell is going on with you? You’re pretty sure you’ve slept completely fine on Wooyoung’s sheets, even though he was known as the sex freak throughout your time as his coworker before he flipped his shit. You rub your face, small whimpers falling from your lips. All you want to do is sleep and yet here’s your mind, throwing water at you and saying no way.

A small knock on your door makes you jump, eyes flicking to the small crack.

“It’s Yeosang. Do you mind if I come in?” he asks softly, and you nod, before realizing that he can’t see you.

“Yes,” you mumble.

He pushes the door open slowly, looking at the bed. His shining eyes move to you curled up on the floor, curiosity in his gaze. But he doesn’t ask, sitting in the chair several feet away from you.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admits. “I usually don’t have much of an issue on most nights, but my eyes don’t want to close.”

You laugh, a breathy one barely escaping your lips. “Probably because I’m here,” You say, looking away from his gaze, not wanting to see him nod in agreement. “I can still leave, you know. I have a flashlight on my phone and walking down won’t be too bad…”

He snorts. “I’m not letting you walk alone at this time, and I can’t sleep because… Because now that you’re here, my dragon, no, I want to rest next to you.” You don’t lift your head, and he wonders if he offended you in any way, so he quickly cleans up his words. “Being on the couch is fine, I have no issues with that. I can sleep anywhere. But with you here, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep without you being close to me.” He admits, rubbing the back of his head. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I think being honest is best. You… can kick me out any time, I won’t be offended.”

You’re not, not at all. Instead, you feel your chest flutter with the possibility of Yeosang holding you close, his head resting on top of yours, your back against his chest as he presses his lips to your temple and you both fall asleep.

“I want you.” You say simply.

You don’t see the way his face turns pink at your words, ears burning red. You quickly realize what you’ve said, and you backpedal quickly.

“I mean! Haha, I was saying that I want to sleep with you, in the same bed. Like, because we’re tired, not the other,” You throw your head back in frustration. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughs, and you enjoy the sound. “No, I get what you mean. I want to do that. We should do that.”

You stand up, crawling back underneath the covers. Yeosang follows your lead, lifting up the covers and sliding underneath. Your warmth compared to his cool skin gives you a different feeling. You stare at the ceiling, eyes on him. He met yours, a small smile on his lips.

“You can’t fall asleep with your eyes open,” he says simply, and you snort, turning your back to him. He laughs, and you feel him slide, his back to you as well.

You stay like that for a few minutes, and you know what you want. You’re an adult, all you have to say is-

“Do you mind if I hold you?” he whispers, his body turning to you. A small yes escapes you, and he doesn’t hesitate, pulling you against him.

His chest rests against your back, rising and lifting slowly. Your feet press against his legs, and he basks in their warmth. He wraps his arms around your waist, face in your hair. He takes this moment to breathe you in, your smell surrounding him. His skin is several degrees colder than yours, and the dragon in him tries its best to pull you as close as possible, without hurting you.

Your eyes flutter close, comfort quicker than before. Yeosang mumbles a soft goodnight into your ear, and you whisper it back. Your trip to sleep land is quick.

-

The sun shining through the windows wakes you up in the morning. You squint, trying your best to blink away the night. It feels like weights are trying to keep your eyes closed, but you know it's probably midday, already too long to stay in bed. Your boss is probably endlessly calling you about your assignment for the week. You stretch your arms slowly, palms hitting a solid body. You almost scream, until you think back to last night.

You roll over. Yeosang is still fast asleep, his chest rumbling every time he exhales. His hair is a mess, covering most of his face. You reach out to push it away from his face, but you stop yourself, dropping your arm. He pulls you closer, and you yelp softly, your chest pressed against his. His eyes slowly open, looking down at yours.

"Good morning," You say softly.

He says nothing for a moment, eyes flicking between yours. He blinks slowly, breaths slow. His hands are pressing against your bare back, and you feel something, some thing hard against your stomach. He nuzzles his nose against your forehead, sniffing softly.

You push your hands against his chest, and he tenses up. "Time to go back, yes?"

He quickly lets go, leaning up in bed. He looks at you, glancing down at you wearing his clothes, face darkening. "I need to use the bathroom." He stands quickly walking out and not ever looking back.

You glance down, seeing your nipples perked, on display for the world to see. Now you feel your face warm as you look around the room for your bra. You usually sleep with the bare minimum on, so you're glad he didn't barge in when you were getting dressed. Wearing the same underwear twice in a row is gross, and going commando once in a while couldn't hurt. But you're in his home, wearing his clothes. You slap yourself, grabbing your bra from your dirty clothes pile and quickly putting it on before he walks back in.

You think back to last night, his cool hands wrapped around your waist, soothing in the early morning. If this happened a couple of weeks ago you'd freak, demand that he bring you back home and you'd never see him again. But you like the way he feels, hands oddly soft for a man his size. Pressed lightly against your bare stomach, never traveling lower. Lips pressed against your neck, tongue—

Your hand flicks up to your neck, and you quickly look in the ceiling mirror. Nothing's there, and you sigh in relief. And a bit of disappointment, but you'd rather deal with those feelings by yourself later.

"The bathroom is ready," Yeosang says, not daring to step in the room. I've left a fresh pair of clothing. I don't grow, so everything is my size. And I've realized that..." His face is completely red now. "I don't have any new underwear to give you, since I don't wear any. I'm sorry about that."

You try to keep your eyes on his, not daring to flick down. No, you're being good. Definitely not imagining what he looks like with those pants off. Nope, not at all. Yeosang sniffs, and backs away slightly.

"I'll be in the living room. You can come whenever you're ready, and then we can go back to your home."

He walks away, leaving the door wide open. You scratch your head, grabbing your things and bolting to the bathroom, not daring to even take a glance into the living area.

-

His fingers are gripping his thigh so tight, hard enough to tear. He tries to keep his thoughts empty, but all he can think of is holding you in his arms, his dragon so close to your neck, so close to making you his. Yunho is right; he isn't ready for this. He isn't ready for you, and he's not sure if he'll ever be. You're so delicate, so alive and warm and Human, the complete opposite of him. He's cold, his heart pumps blood but it's useless, he can't die. You're a Human, and he's a dragon.

And nothing will change that.

But he can't stop thinking of how your body curves into his, how you're the perfect size for him to wrap around. How he loves how soft you are under his touch, how you smell. Why are you so enticing, so beautiful and fragile? Yeosang looks at the floor, straining his dragon. He's barely holding himself back. He can't do this anymore. He can't see you anymore, not like this. Not even as friends.

He doesn't want to say it out loud, but after today, he won't be coming back to you. He'll move his home away, in another forest far enough away that you wouldn't look. But close enough that if you're in danger, he'd be able to get there at a moment's notice.

Don't. His dragon whispers to him. This decision will only hurt more. It will hurt us being away from her.

He shakes off the voice, keeping his thoughts rational. No, nothing can change his mind. Nothing.

You walk into the living room, seeing Yeosang stare off into the forest outside. He looks back at you, his eyes a darker brown. Different from the beautiful blue you're used to looking into.

"Yeosang, your eyes—"

He nods. "In case we stumble into Humans hiking. It's better to make myself look like them, so that I don't have to deal with the aftermath. Are you ready to go?" He doesn't seem fazed by you wearing his clothing, eyes calmer than you've ever seen them. You nod, and he walks outside, you follow close behind.

He says nothing to you, despite your long talks from only hours ago. Yeosang keeps several feet ahead of you, ears probably listening to your every movement. You’re not sure what happened over the course of these few hours, but you can’t help but feel worried. Did you do something to bother him? Did it bother him that you accepted his offer so easily? Did you offend him when you were talking last night?

You stumble over a rock, and Yeosang doesn’t bother to glance back. “Be careful of your footing,” He says.

"Did I do something?" You ask after about a half hour of walking. He shakes his head, but doesn't give you a verbal response. Your irritation rises as he keeps his back to you, not even bothering to acknowledge you with a look.

"Is it because you think I'm easy or something? Or did I offend you with something I said last night?"

He shakes his head again, and you stop in your spot. No. You're not going to do this wordless answering anymore. Yeosang sighs, staring straight forward.

"The sun won't be in the sky all day, y/n. It's best to move quickly so that you're safe in your home."

"I won't move until you look at me and tell me what's wrong so we can fix this."

He looks back at you, his lips tight. His eyes are cold, the beautiful warmth from mere hours ago gone from his face. It's like you're a stranger, nothing to him. He pushes a stray strand, tucking it behind his ear.

"It's nothing."

"It's something, or you won't be treating me like shit."

"If you stopped acting so entitled, then maybe you won't feel that way." He hisses, the blue slightly breaking between the brown contacts.

"Excuse me? Me, entitled? You're the one that brought me to your house, kicked me out and then banged on my door, humping it like a dog in heat. And then you barged into my home unannounced, basically on your knees to be my friend. And then you say that I'm your mate. And you're telling me that I'm entitled? When all I've done is accept you when I’ve wanted to push you away. I even believed that you’re a dragon! I didn't even question it!"

You're sick of it, sick of this hot and cold, this warmth and bittersweetness. You just want him to accept you as you are, and not push you away. You just want him to tell you what's wrong.

He stares at you. "All of you Humans are the same. Valuing your lives above everyone else's. Not admitting your mistakes, blaming it on everyone except yourself. You are the one who grabbed Yeouiju from the ground. You are the one who took it away. You started this all, and yet you continue to blame it on me."

The anger emits from your body as you stare at him blaming this all on you. Fuck him, fuck all of this! You storm past him, too tired to give a rat's ass about what he has to say. He grabs your arm, stopping you.

"Didn't you want to know why I'm annoyed?" He asks, and you push him away. He resists, and you struggle against his grip.

"You know what, Dragon? I don't give a fuck why you're mad. Because I've done absolutely nothing but accept you as you are, I've cared for you and all I get back is anger and you continuing to push me away after you open up. I'm tired, I'm tired of playing these games with you. I've never hated someone as much as I do you." You pull again, and this time, you stumble back.

But he doesn't reach for you, letting you fall to the ground. You struggle to your feet, ignoring the dirt that sticks to your clothes. No, his clothes. Yeosang opens his mouth, but you hold one finger up.

"Yeosang, I thought this was going to be something, you know? I thought you were going to accept me being a Human and you being a Dragon. I thought we were going to learn about one another and one day... One day ..."

He knows what you want to say. He desperately waits for the word to fall from your lips, but you shake your head again.

"Don't follow me. I can make it back on my own without your help."

You continue down the mountain, cursing at yourself for believing that he'd never hurt you, that he cares about you. You hope that you can forget what he told you last night, his silent plea for you to care for him completely vanishes from your mind. Your tears stain your cheek as you walk down, but you don't dare to wipe them.

Yeosang's eyes follow your figure, until you completely disappear from your view. He can adjust his sight to watch you go back home, but it'll only be more painful for him. He clenches his fingers, claws digging into the flesh. This is the best way. You, hating him and thinking that he no longer cares for you. It's the only way to keep you safe, he thinks. It's the only way that he can assure you won't come looking for him.

He takes a deep breath, before turning back and walking back home.

-

Wooyoung sees how slow you walk around your kitchen, the bright you he's used to gone. He's not sure what's happened in the past few days, but he doesn't pressure you to say it. You're still writing and editing, so it's nothing with your job. Yunho, even with his endless jokes, doesn't crack a smile on your face. You only nod although, downing your fifth coffee of the day.

"I'm worried about her," Wooyoung says. "She's not herself. y/n always gets into slumps, but nothing this severe. She won't even push us away and never rejects our invitations to stay over. She hates when we're here longer than necessary, Yun." Wooyoung says softly, ear listening to the clicking of you typing on your computer. You keep your headphones in usually, but he wants to make sure you're not listening.

"She even leaves the house, and she never leaves the house. I mean, I've never seen her cupboard so full of crap. It's like she's here, but not. Not really."

"I know." Yunho replies, eyes on your door. Wooyoung can't see, but he can. He can see as your fingers shakes as you type, eyes unfocused. It's you desperately trying to hold on to what you have left, and he knows it's his fault. He frowns softly.

This isn't how it is supposed to be. You're supposed to welcome Yeosang being out of your life, free of the danger that is him. But it seems to only take a toll on you. And there's only one person he can ask about what to do.

Mother.

"Woo, want to stay here for a bit? I'm going to buy us some dinner and I'll be back."

Wooyoung nods at his words, biting his lip in nervousness. Yunho pecks it quickly before standing up, walking out the door. He parks the car a ways away from the property, before closing his eyes. He looks up at the stars, finally locating the one he wants to talk to.

"Hi Mother. I have an issue I need to solve. It's Yeosang, and his mate."

-

Two days go by. Then a week. Then a month. You hike up the mountain, eyes desperately looking for a glimpse of him. But the other side of the river is empty, Yeosang's cottage long gone. You fall to the grass, sobs rocking through you. You don't even feel him with you, our chest void of Yeosang. You never thought that not seeing him would make you feel this way. Like the world ended.

But you tried to move on. You let Yunho and Wooyoung over to your house often, their hilarious behavior letting out small smiles from you. Even if they're a bit strained. Wooyoung noticed the change of behavior in you. He tried to interrogate you about it, but what could you say? It's not like you were in a relationship with him; no, he is, was, just a friend of yours. And even saying that is a stretch. But how can you explain that you feel like your heart is shattered into dozens of pieces, unable to glue back together?

So all you tell him is that you're fine. That it must be the change of seasons, that's all. And he believes you, at least for now. And Yunho, you know that he can see through your facade. He can see how broken you are, although he doesn't say it. But he's over at your home more often than Wooyoung is, cooking for you and reminding you to leave your house often. And you're glad to have someone like him so close to you, someone who's been with you your whole life and won't disappear on a whim.

-

Yeosang sits on his couch, so interested in his sewing that he hasn't noticed all of his brothers arriving in his room, staring at him. Even for an immortal, they have to nourish themselves. Yeosang feeds on sunlight but he hasn't left his home in so long. His cheeks are beginning to look hollow, his eyes losing the steady light that always shined brightly. The tanned dragon is slowly turning gray.

"You can't keep on doing this, it's draining you." Mingi says, tapping him. "I've never seen an immortal close to death, but you look like it. You're losing your shine, Yeosang. Your hair is falling out. You need to go outside."

Yeosang shakes his head. "I don't need to control water and plants from outside. All I have to do is flick my wrist, and they'll be fine."

"Stop acting like a child, it's like you've lost someone," Seonghwa grumbles, and he sees him stop in his sewing for a moment, before continuing. "Wait, when was the last time you've seen y/n?"

"It doesn't matter."

They all exchange looks, before their eyes land on Yunho. Yunho says nothing, staring at his younger brother. He's never seen Yeosang so frail, so weak. He rubs his face. This isn't what he wants. He wants you to be safe, he wants Yeosang to learn how to interact with Humans before becoming your mate. But hiding out in this cottage? Not saying anything to anyone for months at a time?

"What did you say to him?" San shakes his head. "Even we didn't interfere with how he and y/n interacted. You should know better than to involve yourself with mates. You know what happens if they're separated for too long."

"She's not my mate," Yeosang says softly. His voice is a bit scratchy from not talking for so long. "We didn't complete the marking. She is still free to live her life. To be unrestricted."

"That's not how it works, Yeo," Yunho finally says. "That's how our species mates, yes. But you both, you are soulmates. Lost in their creation, and split in two. And when you met, they finally lived in harmony. But when you separate them like this, it will only slowly kill you. You have to stay with your other soul." He looks at Yeosang, reaching out and stopping his hand from moving.

"I said those things about you out of anger. Your soul won't hurt her, it's destined to protect her. To protect her soul. Yes, you have to beware of your dragon, for he is fearsome. But that is all you have to worry about. y/n is yours, you two are meant to be."

"That's why, when San and I finally visited y/n, we knew. We saw how entwined your souls were, and we vowed to never try to separate you two. Seonghwa did as well, but it seems like Yunho didn't get the message," Mingi glares at the eldest. "But you have to go back to her. Her soul is yours, and yours is hers. Please just fix this."

Yeosang scoffs, pushing his hand away. He runs his fingers through his overgrown locks, hair in serious need for a wash. He thinks back to how he cut the ties with you, left you walking down the mountain alone, not even daring to look back. You're better off without him now.

"Mother told me." Yunho says, seeing the resistance in Yeosang's face. "She told me what happens when you're separated from your mate and reject them."

Seonghwa shakes his head. "This is why you shouldn't have involved yourself, Yun. Mind your business next time, like the rest of us."

"There's no use arguing about it," Mingi says softly. "Yeosang will make his decision, and that's it. We will respect it and move on. But let's give him some time alone." He looks at how pained his brother looks, and hates that they were a primary cause of it. "I'll see you in a bit, yes?" He pats Yeosang's shoulder, walking out.

San says nothing, following close behind. Seonghwa already disappeared into thin air, a bit ironic since he controls it. Yunho is the last one left.

"Go." Yeosang says simply. "I'll figure this out, but you need to leave. I know you wanted what was best for both of us, but you made a mistake, and now we have to suffer because of it."

Yeosang looked at him, the blue faded. "Give me some time."

Yunho nods. "If it makes it better, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to get this far." He turns, walking out the cottage and closing the door behind him.

Yeosang slowly puts his materials away, thoughts consumed with you. You standing on the other side of the river, sobs reaching him as he watched you, too terrified to tell you that he never left. That he just hid his home from you. That despite Yunho's warnings he couldn't bear to leave you alone, not without being close enough to feel your presence.

He grabs his dirty plates off his small wooden table, tossing them into the sink so roughly a few break from impact. He leans over the small sink, staring down at the shards decorating the bottom. He's rejected the idea of you for so long, he doesn't know what it means to finally accept you for who you are. If he's true to himself, he has pushed you away even before Yunho told him to. He didn't like the idea of you and expressed it vehemently to you whenever he was given the chance. Now, his dragon is finally content in his chest, accepting you fully.

He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Now all he has to do is see if you're willing to love him back.

-

You bang your fist on your keyboard, groaning. All of that progress, all of the hard work and dedication you put into editing is gone. Washed down the drain of the internet, never to be seen again. The document somehow deleted since the last time you looked at it, only the first draft sitting on your desktop. You're too exhausted to even complain about it, needing coffee more than anything else.

But you don't have coffee. You rub your neck, hands landing on the rock necklace that graces your throat. You touch it softly, before reaching back and taking it off, tossing it in a small drawer in your desk. You don't need it, you don't need him. But you don't have the heart to throw it away. You glare at the drawer one last time, before grabbing your bag, leaving him behind.

-

Yeosang washes his hair quickly, the hot water not enough to scrub away his regrets. He steps out of the shower, glancing at himself in the mirror. He looks exhausted, eyes void of emotion and cheeks a bit sickly. He touches his facial hair, growing a small beard from not shaving. He eyes the razor in the corner of the sink.

Should he trim it? Perhaps you'll like the beard on his face, different from the dragon you're used to. He grabs it, and the scissors, trimming it low enough to leave a shadow, but not all the way down. He already trimmed his hair in the shower, still long enough to tuck it back into a bun if he wanted to. He brushes it back, before he feels the fingers throb.

He stares down at them, seeing the glow rise. You took off the necklace. His heart drops, mood immediately anxious. Did you not listen to him? You needed to keep it on when he's not around you, he won't be able to protect you all the time—

He grabs his sweats, not bothering to dry himself off completely. You couldn't have gone that far.

-

You stare at the prices of vegetables, frowning. Did they increase them somehow? You haven't shopped by yourself in forever, but were they always this expensive? You glare at the outside of the pepper, rubbing it slightly. It's too shiny for your liking, probably filled with nasty pesticides and other gross things to make them look this way. You groan, throwing it back into the pile. You should have stolen some from Yeo— your friend's herb garden. Or maybe one day investing on your own. You have the acres, all you need to do is use them.

You grab the most natural looking one that doesn't have brown spots, and toss it into your basket. You don't notice the frantic look of a man who's just walked into the grocery store, eyes searching for only you.

You excuse yourself around a elderly couple, smiling at the woman as she scolds her husband for picking the item that's three cents more. It warms your heart to see older couples; thinking of what brought them together and how they're still together. Did they meet when they were in high school? Maybe in the middle of school dance? Or did they meet in college, eyes meeting one another across the library? Maybe reuniting after years of not being with one another, too scared to tell the other how they feel? Your mind runs through these scenarios, until your eyes land on a man not too far away from you.

If you didn't recognize the giant coat he loves to wear, you would have dismissed him. But the pumping of your heart in your ears, the dryness of your throat as your eyes land on him. He's talking to an employee of the store, eyes the cold brown you hate. He turns around, stopping in his words, and looks to you. You clutch your basket between your fingers, not daring to move as he nods at the employee once, before walking over to you. He's not that tall, you've seen taller, but he walks with purpose, head held high.

You snap out of your daze, placing your basket to the side and excusing yourself as you navigate through the people, walking out the door. No, he can't just show up again. Not after pushing you away with a stupid explanation, leaving you to deal with whatever is between you on your own. Your hand fumbles with the keys in your pocket as you jog to your car, chest rising and falling quickly.

You click the unlock button, glancing back and forth before crossing the street. You don't see the cyclist pedaling quickly, staring at his phone instead of what's in front of him. Before he gets too close, a hand yanks you forward.You shriek, falling forward into his chest. The man in the bike yells a quick apology before pedaling away, seeing the glare of Yeosang, seeping through the contacts he wears. You pull back away from him, dusting off your clothing before opening the door of your car.

Yeosang pushes on it, closing it back.You groan, rubbing your face in frustration.

"Why did you take off your necklace?" He demands, the first words to come out of his mouth since he left you.

Is that what this is about? A stupid rock necklace? "What? Did you want it back or something? I can give it back to you, just leave me alone."

He shakes his head in frustration. "No, y/n. It's not just a decorative item. It protects you when I'm not around. That is why I gave it to you. You cannot just throw it to the side."

You huff. "I don't need your protection. If I did, you wouldn't have left. You would have stayed, but you didn't. Please just let me go home, I don't need this right now. I want to be alone."

"Can you listen to me for five minutes? I can explain why I left if you'd just listen to me. Please." He tries to catch your gaze but you avoid his eyes.

No. You won't be pulled into this sob story of his again. You don't care about the balance of the world or his problems anymore. You've moved on. Just like he wanted you to. You pull on the door again, but he doesn't move his hand.

"You're not asking, are you?"

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "I just, I really need you to listen. We don't have to do it out here, we can go to your home—"

Absolutely the fuck not. Even him standing here is making you feel things you'd rather not. Being in your small home, his scent swirling around? You'd probably go more feral than you already are.

"Follow me," You press the lock on your car, marching over to a small bench. You sit down, gesturing for him to follow. He kept his distance, sitting as far away as he could. He looks at you, waiting. Waiting for your eyes to meet his, but you stare ahead, lips in a straight line. You're giving him little pull, but he accepts it. He hurt you, and still is. Even this small communication between you is more than he deserves.

"You already know about the mates thing and about me being a dragon."

A woman walks but raises her eyebrow and pulls her child closer, pace increasing.

"I didn't want to leave you. I didn't tell you, but one of my brothers came to see me the night you stayed at my home. He was concerned about my acceptance of you being a Human, and empathized that I hated Humans so much that it wouldn't work. That I'm not around them enough to be able to even comprehend how to care for one. That I will hurt you like one of the others did. And I was scared."

You play with the skin next to your fingernails, biting your lip. You never would've guessed that the big, bad dragon could be scared. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and he's still looking at you. Gaze steady. Eyes sure.

"That's why I let you go. Made you believe that I wanted you gone, even though I wanted you to stay, I wanted to be there for you as much as I could. But I couldn't risk your life just for my pleasure of seeing you. I didn't want to do that. So I hide away from you. I saw you, when you walked back up the mountain. Crying when you saw my cottage gone." He looks down, feeling his eyes grow watery. He wipes it away, continuing. "I desperately wanted to run to you and say that I'd never leave you. But that would only lead down a bad path. At least, that's what I thought until recently."

"He told me that mates are more than that. That he made a mistake. My brother, Mingi, found his long ago even though he killed them by accident. He hasn't been the same since, and we weren't sure why. We thought it was grief, but it's so much more than that."

His eyes flick back and forth. "I don't know if this term is correct, but he phrased it as 'soulmates'. Two souls so entwined that whenever they separate for too long, or a rejection, they slowly die."

You finally turn to him. You see the fading of his beautiful hair, a slight beard covering his face. He reaches up, taking out his contacts. He looks at you, and you hold back your gasp. The beautiful blue you're used to seeing is faded, as if he's aged centuries in only a few months. You reach out, rubbing away a tear that falls without thinking. You pull back quickly, blinking quickly.

"I'm dying. And you're dying too, but it's not as obvious." His eyes flick around your face; from the deep bags underneath your eyes to the lifeless hair that you have pulled back from your face. You laugh dryly, shaking your head.

"Being tired doesn't mean I'm dying."

You say those words, but you believe him. Besides the last time you saw him, he's never lied to you. You feel the exhaustion sticking to your bones. But right when your eyes met his in that parking lot, things immediately felt lighter. The fluorescent lights in the shabby supermarket didn't burn as much. You were literally stuck in place as he walked up to you.

"I'm sorry." He says again. "I'm sorry for doing this to you, for pushing you away when I wanted you next to me. I can't stop thinking about you." He admits. "And I know you won't welcome me into your arms quickly, but I hope that we can start again, from the beginning."

You want to. You want to pretend that you don't want to do it desperately, but you do. You miss him, you miss the smile that he shows you, you miss the slight pout he makes when he's in deep thought, the slight widening of his eyes as he speaks about something he loves. You can't stop thinking about him, either. You nod.

"Okay, but no more secrets."

He closes his eyes. "What if the secret isn't mine to tell?"

You turn to him sharply. "There's something else? Yeosang, what the fuck? Are you a God or something now?"

He stares at you for a long minute, before throwing back his head in laughter. "I didn't tell you this, but Humans long ago used to pray to my brothers and I, giving sacrifices and holding ceremonies in our honor." He furrowed his eyebrows in concentration. "I couldn't ever understand why. We were prevented from interfering, but why sacrifice to someone you cannot see or feel? And why do you think that we will accept that? It's a strange behavior." He cocks his head for a moment, shaking his head.

"You're avoiding my question," you narrow your eyes. "What's the secret?"

He purses his lips. "It would be best if you bring your friends Wooyoung and Yunho over to your home so that we may discuss it together. It's impossible for me to tell on my own."

"You need my friends to tell your secret?" You question, and he nods.

"It will be best if they are there, yes."

"And why does it need to be in my house? Can't we go somewhere in public?"

He sighs. "I have already been given strange looks as people heard my words walking by. I am supposed to keep my presence a mystery, and not show myself. But I am already out here in public, this only makes matters more dire."

You chuckle. This silly dragon. "No one would believe your words. I'll invite them, but I still need to go shopping." You stand, and he follows your movements. "Are you coming?"

He nods quickly.

-

He follows close behind you as you grab the basket you left, thankfully still in the same spot as before. You look around the aisles, nose wrinkling as his scent fills your nose. You’re still a bit annoyed with him, angry if you really think about it, so him being so close and copying your every movement slightly irritates you. You turn back, and he looks down at you.

“Have you forgotten what you wanted to get?” He asks, and you shake your head.

“No. But do you have to stand so close? It’s not like I’m going to go anywhere,” You walk forward, the stomping of his feet echoing around the small store. If he’s any louder he’d break the tiles, you think.

Your eyes look for the sign for coffee, but before you could walk down, Yeosang brushes past you, eyes focused ahead. He picks up a small container and points it to you. A dragon covers the front of the box, one of the popular name brands you’re used to seeing. You see the slight pout grace his lips as he points at it.

“Dragons don’t look like this, why do Humans depict it this way?”

You shrug, “Probably because of how friendly it looks? No one wants a terrifying dragon on the outside of a box. Most things are made to look approachable, not scary.”

“But we don’t breathe fire, well, none of us but San,” He puts it on the shelf. “Humans long ago wouldn’t dare do such a thing. They cherished our presence, and would never defame us this way.”

He goes on and on about the treatment of dragons as you look through the varieties of coffee, hopefully finding the one you enjoy the most. Yeosang grabs something else, and before you could scold him for it, he hands you your favorite brand.

You raise your brows in surprise.“How’s you know?”

“Because it smells like you,” he says simply, grabbing another. “And I like how it smells on you. How many do you want?” He holds another in his hand, and you shake him away.

“Only two. Coffee isn’t that good for you, you know. And I love the caffeine, so I can’t get decaf,” you say, walking down the next aisle.

His eyes roam around the store in wonder, quickly tagging behind you whenever your smell fades. You wince whenever he bumps into a display or shelf, but admire him when he helps an older man pick something off a shelf. He complains about despising Humans constantly, but all you see is a clumsy, gentle man not so carefully guiding his way through the store with a slight smile on his face. Whatever his other brother said to him, you can’t believe it. No one that hated people this much could walk around you all with such a calm demeanor. He’s been hiding that he cares for so long, and you decide to ask him about that another time.

You put your items on the conveyor belt, Yeosang watching as the cashier slowly scans your items. He gives Yeosang an odd look but says nothing, telling you your total.

“I didn’t see you bring anything to trade,” he whispers. God, when was the last time he’s left the house? You pass the cashier the money as Yeosang stares in confusion as the currency is exchanged. You reach to grab the bags but Yeosang takes it from you, walking out the store.

“Paper? You give him paper in exchange for all of those goods? Is this how society is now?”

“When was the last time you got some fresh air besides today?” You ask him, and he thinks deeply.

“The last time I left was when people exchanged goods for goods. A cloth for a few tomatoes. Things like that.”

He hasn’t been outside in hundreds of years.

“How do you have all of those things in your house then? A shower, clothes, dishes?”

“My brothers bring me most things since they know how I feel about the Human world. And I make many on my own. Water freely runs through my shower because I control it. I don’t need the modern plumbing that you have in your home. As I told you before, there’s no reason for me to go outside since I can grow my own plants easily.”

“So water just appears out of thin air?” You can’t believe it.

He laughs as you open the door to your car, placing the bags on your backseat. He glances around the neighborhood, before holding up his hand. You feel a slight breeze as he points to his hand, slowly twirling his fingers. A small tornado appears in his hand, but instead of wind it’s a whirlpool, droplets of water spinning quickly. He watches as you stare at it in amazement. You reach your finger to poke it, and he stops, the water dripping into his hand, back into its normal state. He blows on it and it disappears into the air, as if he just didn’t make it come to him.

“All air has a bit of water in it. Since Seonghwa controls the air, he’s always frustrated when I do things like that, but yes. Water out of thin air.”

You grin widely. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

A blush immediately covers his face, and you laugh. Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you glance down, seeing the caller ID.

“Hey-”

“Why are you calling me to your house? And you said it’s an emergency? Why don’t you call the police and why are you being so vague?” Wooyoung spitfires the questions one after another, “I swear to the fucking hills, if you went into that forest again I’ll literally bury you myself. Eight feet under.”

You roll your eyes at him, knowing he can’t see it. “Can you relax for two seconds, please? So, do you remember that Dragon egg thing that we found in the forest?“

“We found? You mean you found, and irresponsibly brought into your home, not knowing anything about it and me finding out that it’s basically a mating egg-”

Yeosang pulls the cell phone away from you, placing it next to his ear. “Listen, Wooyoung, right?”

“Who in the living fuck-”

“We don’t have time for your antics. Listen to what y/n has to say, and come to her home. And as a clarification, it is not a dragon egg or a mating egg. It is Yeouiju, and it stays in my possession.” He hands the phone back to you, a triumphant look in his eyes.

You put the phone back to your ear, “Hey.”

There’s silence for a moment. “That’s the dragon, isn’t it?” He asks softly. “What the Hell have you gotten yourself into, y/n?”

“Just bring Yunho with you and come to my house in a few hours, alright? I’ll give you food and everything.”

“Alright,” You almost hit the end call button, but Wooyoung shrieks before you can. “Are you okay? I know he can probably hear me, but are you safe?”

You glance at Yeosang, and he’s staring off into the street, but you know he’s listening. The way his ear twitches when he hears himself being mentioned is proof enough. ”He won’t hurt me, I’m okay. See you later.” You hang up, unlocking the door to your car.

You gesture for Yeosang to enter, and he struggles for a moment, before finally swinging the door too wide and jumping inside. He slams it rather hard and you wince. He looks at you apologetically.

“It would be easier for me to bring the both of us back to your home,” He says, rubbing his neck. “That’s what wings are for.”

You gasp a bit too loudly, and he looks at you in concern. “So that night, I was right! You do have wings-! Wait, no, let’s deal with this later.” You turn on your car, glancing both ways before looking at Yeosang. He watches you, his head cocked.

“Put on your seat belt.” You say.

“What’s a seat belt?” You point to yours, and he looks behind him, seeing it resting inside the interior. He glances at you once more before yanking on it.

You hear a loud crack, and pray to the heavens that he didn’t break it. You peek over, seeing a large, gaping hole where the seat belt used to be. Your poor car, the only one that you’ve had since high school. Your baby. And he broke her.

He looks at you quickly, “Ah! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’ll fix it!” He reaches out to touch it, but you grab his hand, stopping him.

“No, no. It’s fine, just pretend that you have a seat belt and don’t jump out of the window. You’ll be fine. My car will be fine.”

You take one more look at the hole, a pained clench to your heart.

-

You finally get home after the long and quiet ride, Yeosang's eyes rarely leaving your face as you drive. You never felt more unsafe in this small car of yours, his hair brushing against the ceiling of your car, your hands sweaty against the wheel. He smiled whenever you made a snide comment at a terrible driver, glaring at them as you passed by.

"I've never seen you so furious. This is worse than when you're stuck at your computer." He mumbles, rubbing between your eyebrows. Your eyes flutter at his touch as he tries to rub away the frown lines. "There's much more things to worry about in life than incompetent carriages."

"Like," he leans forward, a smirk on his lips as you lean away, "A dragon in yours."

"Yea, yea. But from the time that I've met you to now, you're not as scary as before."

The smirk drops from his lips. He thinks for a moment, moving back. His eyes flick to you, before looking away.

"Did I scare you back then? I didn't realize how much of an impact it would have had on you, but I'm deeply sorry. That's not me; I won't ever do that again. Not when I'm clear-headed." He looks at you, a strained smile cracking his cool facade. "I won't hurt you."

"I already know that, Yeo. At least, physically." You get out of the car before he could ask more questions, already putting behind the months without talking to him. You're still a bit pissed about it, yes, but your mother always taught you that it's better for you to move on. No need to dwell on the bad things in your life.

Yeosang helps you carry the bags into your home, watching as you walk around the kitchen and put things away. Your phone vibrates, and you see that Wooyoung messaged you about being about fifteen or so minutes away. You run your fingers through your hair, looking up at Yeosang. He sits on the stool, staring at his hands.

"Is it that bad?" You ask softly. "That you need to bring my friends?"

His eyes look at you pitifully. "I wish I could explain it to you myself, but it's too close to home. It wouldn't be right for me to explain this story without them being here. They both... Need to be present in order for you to believe that it's true. Especially Wooyoung." He rubs his chin, the scratching of his hairs echoing around the kitchen.

You aren't one to care whether or not a man has a beard, but your eyes keep on trailing back to the nine o'clock shadow covering his cheeks, to the new piercings that cover his ear. Whatever happened these past few months; you know he's gotten more attractive. Even the aura around him seems more sure of himself, the fearful mate gone. Your eyes move to his lips, unconsciously licking your own.

"y/n?"

You snap out of it, eyes back on his. He looks at you in amusement, a playful look in his eyes. You clear your throat, and he points to the door.

"I believe your friends are here."

You nod, quickly walking over and throwing open the door. Wooyoung looks at you, hair a mess and a wary look in his eyes. Standing a couple of feet away from him is Yunho, the grin always stuck on his face. He looks as sharp as usual, probably just coming back from the hospital. Wooyoung walks in, Yunho squeezing your shoulder as he walks by, completely different from the cold shoulder he's been giving you for days.

Wooyoung looks at Yeosang sitting in the kitchen and freezes in his steps for a moment. Yeosang stands, holding out his hand to Wooyoung. Your friend takes it, his body trembling slightly.

"Pleasure to meet you," Yeosang rumbles. "I've heard a lot about you."

"And I've heard nothing about you," Wooyoung murmurs, glancing at you in silent anger. Yunho takes a step into the kitchen, eyes on Yeosang.

You notice the air tense up once they look at one another. The Yunho that greeted you at the door is gone, replaced with a solemn him. He nods at Yeosang, arms crossed against his chest. You shut the door behind you, walking and standing next to Wooyoung. You feel the anxiety emitting off of him and you rub his fingers slowly, trying to calm him down.

They continue to look at each other in silent thought, as if they're communicating without speaking. Yeosang seems to grow in frustration as he looks at Yunho, and you knock on the table, trying to get their attention.

"What the hell is going on?" You ask, glancing between the two. "Do you know each other?" Wooyoung scoffs, and you look at him. "What?"

“It'll be hard for brothers not to know each other, right?" Wooyoung murmurs.

Brothers.

You look at Yeosang. He takes in a breath, looking down in shame. You look over at Yunho and he seems to be more relaxed, leaning against the counter as he looks at you. Too relaxed, as if Wooyoung didn't just tell you this groundbreaking fucking news.

Your head pounds as you take it in, seeing the obvious tension between the brothers. Brothers. They're brothers. Yeosang is a dragon, so that means ...

"You're a dragon," you say softly, eyes watering as you look at Yunho. He drops the careless act, taking a step to you. Wooyoung pulls you close to him, ignoring the low rumble of Yeosang's chest as he presses himself against you.

It's not possible. You've grown up with one another, you spent your whole life next to Yun. He can't be.

"Don't do that," Wooyoung says. "Don't try that everything's okay bullshit. You've lied to her, you lied to the both of us. So drop the cocky attitude and say it like it is."

Yunho touches the edge of the counter, the island separating you and Wooyoung from the brothers. Humans from dragons.

"It's true. I didn't think I'd ever have to tell you this, but I am like Yeosang. I am a dragon." He closes his eyes, before opening them.

A dark abyss stares back at you, completely different from the bright blue you love to see. His is empty, just an endless void. He turns to Yeosang, before looking back at you.

"I didn't want to lie—"

"Just stop with the excuses and tell the story, Yunho. We don't have all night for your nonsense. We've heard enough of that for a millennia," Yeosang interrupts. "Say it."

"Watch your tone," Yunho growls, and you feel the room shake slightly at his rise in tone. Yeosang doesn't flinch though, an exasperated sigh falling from his lips. Yun looks back and you and Wooyoung.

"When you were young, I found you alone in your home. Your parents abandoned you when you were only five earth years old. Left you behind in that shack. At the time, I was very wary of taking care of you. I thought about bringing you to a local shelter. So, disguised as a Human, I flew to a nearby one. I dropped you off on the steps, but before I could let you go, you called me by my name. My true name."

He smiles. "I couldn't have fathomed that a Human child would even be able to know that. And then, I looked at the shelter I was to leave you at, and I couldn't. So I raised you as my own. I was your mother and father, putting up a mask so that you'd never know. I was your friend as well, taking care of you every moment that I could. I didn't want you to have a bad life; so I raised you in a small town with people you'd know. Once you grew and left home, I didn't have to pretend to be your parents anymore. I kept the thought in your head that you recently saw them, so you wouldn't be tempted to go back."

"You... you manipulated me." You say. "You made me think I had parents, that I had this life when I was always alone."

Yunho shakes his head. "No, you had me. We had each other. You were never alone, y/n."

All through elementary, high school and college, he's been your only friend. At least, until you met Wooyoung. You've been friends with someone that's lied to you for your whole life. Your head is throbbing terribly, and you rub it slowly, trying your best to calm yourself down before you faint or have a breakdown.

"Are you alright?" Yeosang asks, and you look at him. Your eyes are bright red, your body trembling. He stands up, walking around the corner to you.

You don't bother complaining as he pulls you out of Wooyoung's arms, turning on the faucet and pressing his wet fingers to your forehead. You feel a slightly burst of heat before it gets cool, crawling across your forehead and soothing your throbbing headache.

Yunho looks at you in concern, knowing that if he gets closer to you, it'll only get worse. Yeosang bends over as he stares at you, waiting for you to tell him you're okay. You nod slowly, and he stares at you for a moment more before sitting back down in his spot.

"I'm sorry," Yunho says. "At the time, I didn't know how essential it was for Humans to be in contact with other humans, and for you to have someone other than me. I wanted you to have a good life, but it seems like I made it worse." You see the guilt ridden in his features.

"Everyday I wanted to tell you what I am. But, I couldn't. Humans shouldn't know about our existence. But since you are Yeosang's mate, and Wooyoung is my..." His eyes flick to Wooyoung, before he looks back at you. "We thought it would be best to tell you. I just wasn't sure when, until Wooyoung called me. I told him before this, that's why he's not that shocked to hear my words."

Yunho rubs his head, "And I am the one who insisted that Yeosang never see you. That you two should separate and never reunite. I thought it would be best, but as we've found out, I'm wrong."

Your head is spinning. Too much information thrown at you all at once. All of their eyes on you as you take it in, waiting for a response. But all you could do is nod and shake your head, that being painful enough. You know that Yeosang could smell and feel how you're doing, especially from the frustrated look in his eyes.

"This conversation is done," Yeosang says, turning to his brother. "y/n needs some time to think this over. Come back if she wants you to, but it's a lot of information for her to deal with. I know you wanted immediate action, but give her some time."

If you could jump over the counter and kiss him all over you would. But all you could do is give him a smile.

"Okay. Okay." Yunho looks at Wooyoung. "Would you like me to go home on my own?"

Wooyoung grips his keys in his hand, looking over at you. He presses his lips to your forehead, squeezing your hand slightly before turning to him.

"Let's go. We'll talk more about this on our way back. y/n?"

You look at Wooyoung, and you see the exhaustion in his eyes. It's hit him, not as dramatically and life changing as you, but still. He doesn't look like his happy go lucky self, bags under his eyes and hair wild on his head. You wish you could hug him and tell him it'll be okay, but you fear that if you open your mouth you'd just scream and cry. So you nod at him.

"I love you, you know that right?" He cocks his head. "And I'll kick his ass if you want me to." He glances over at Yeosang. "Call me or text me when you can."

He kisses your forehead once more before pushing past Yunho, who gives you one last sorrowful look before following after him. They close the door behind them, leaving you and Yeosang in silence.

Yeosang says nothing, the silence ringing in your ears. You feel the breakdown slowly build as you stand there, hands quickly rubbing against one another. The image of your mother is slowly disappearing, her wise words slowly morphing into Yunho's, his voice replacing hers. You never really thought about it, but your parents are a blur. You don't have pictures with them, your graduation pictures are selfies with Yun. Your whole life is a lie, no matter how you look at it.

Your breaths quicken, head throbbing. You hear Yeosang saying something, but your head spins, too overwhelmed to answer. You clutch the counter in front of you, eyes flicking back and forth.

“y/n!"

His voice rumbles around you and you look at him. He holds his face between your hands, rubbing your cheek lightly.

"Take slow breaths, in and out," His hand places yours on his chest, holding it there. "Follow the rise and fall of my chest, and do the same thing. In and out."

Your lips tremble as you try to follow his instructions. He feels your heart slowly go back to normal as he rubs your cheek. Your eyes are closed as he watches you for any signs of you beginning to faint. But you're listening attentively, despite your life crashing before you. You open them. He smiles at you, dropping his hands from your cheeks, the cool feeling gone. You're a bit better now, and you smile at him.

"Will it be okay?"

You ask with your eyes, willing him to understand. He holds out his arms, and you don't hesitate; falling into his embrace easily. His body surrounds you as you sob into his chest, his hands rubbing your back lightly. Your fingers dig into his back, a normal human would hiss at the grip but it doesn't bother him in the slightest. His lips are pressed into your hair as you shake in his arms. There's no words that could take the hurt and betrayal that you feel away, no matter how hard he thinks. He wants you to be okay, he wants to see the smile gracing your face again. So he says the only words he can.

"I'm here for you, y/n. I'm not leaving you. Not again."

-

You sit on the bench, staring at your laptop that rests on your lap. Yeosang insists that you get some fresh air, the air in your house too stale. You didn't want to; your home is so cozy and you can just open the windows. You used to love the outdoors, you spent most of your childhood outside. But after the revelation that Yunho dropped on you a few weeks ago, you didn't want it anymore. You know that all he wanted was for you to have a good life, but the way he manipulated you; you're not sure if you can forgive such an act. You close the computer, tossing it to the grass softly and stretching your body. You close your eyes as the sun beams down on you, the soft breeze comforting. You touch the necklace that rests on your neck again, wishing that Yeosang is here to enjoy the day with you.

After that night, he stayed true to his promise. You couldn't stay in your home, too familiar and too many traces of Yunho around you. So Yeosang brought you back to his, carefully taking care of you and letting you sleep on his bed alone. You missed the comfort of his cool body against your own, but he respected you, even when you whined for him to stay next to you. He didn't mind sleeping in the living room alone, although you noticed how he kept close to the fireplace.

As you stayed with him, you noticed a lot about him. He constantly wore layers, even in the summer sun. After prying a bit, he told you that the snake side of him craved warmth since he's cold-blooded. That's why his dragon wanted to stay close to you so often. That's why he always stuck close to you wherever you went. He craved warmth, soft rumbles in his chest each time you brushed against him or stood close enough.

You knew you were overstaying your welcome at his home, even though he insisted that you were not a stranger. That everything he owns is yours. Despite his intense flattery (you're sure you could heat up the whole country with how embarrassed you were), you decided to go back home.

The first step over the threshold threw you back to the terrible night. But you pushed past the negative feelings and cleaned. It took three full days, but you cleaned your whole home from top to bottom, a bit of a fresh start for you. Yeosang drops by often now, giving you the fresh vegetables he grew and not leaving for hours. He kept his promise, telling you that you're his friend, never bringing up the fact that you're both mates.

But you could feel it.

The stares he'd give you when you're freshly out of the shower, skin clean and covered in nothing but the scent of you. His eyes on you whenever you laughed at something he said, or when you snorted at a silly TV show. The tension between the two of you as you sat at your table and ate, feet only inches apart. Hands a brush away from one another. Napkins dabbing lips and licks dragging across skin. His hands would clench the table, eyes closed as he controlled his instincts, his emotions. You thought the need that you feel whenever he's with you was just a you thing, but after spending some time with each other, it's mutual. But you're scared. You know so much about him now, and you're scared that someday you'll lose him. That all of this is just a fantasy and you'll wake up alone. So you two do this dance every time you're with one another, pretending that you don't want one another when you do.

The breeze makes you open your eyes, and glance at your home. A few more hours until Wooyoung drops by.

You were never mad at him. He's the only friend you trust now; his honesty never swaying. You love Wooyoung, you do. After meeting Yeosang, and Wooyoung being in a relationship, your romantic feelings faded. You still consider him the most important person in your eyes. He's told you that he's still friends with Yunho, constantly nudging you to speak to your long time friend, or should you say parent?

You want to. Sit down and chat, tell him how hurt you still are but that you're ready to forgive. But you're not brave enough yet. Not ready to hear him speak with you. But you miss how his laughter filled the place, brightening up your day in the simplest of ways. You want to forgive him immediately, but a part of you is a bit pessimistic. Why should he be forgiven so easily? He broke your heart, shattering it. But he saved you from a life of sadness and struggle. He took you under his wing without a second thought, and raised you as his own. He was, is, your best friend. He’s been there for you whenever a boy or girl broke your heart, whenever you failed a test.

You sat on the edge of your bed, staring at your phone. The words that she sent you, a simple “I’m sorry we didn’t work out” stuck in your mind. A small knock on the door distracted you, and you turned, seeing your best friend, Yunho standing there. He held your favorite ice cream in his hands, along with your go-to movies. He tilted his head as he watched the tears fall down your cheeks, a small pout on his lips.

“Well, you can’t just spend all day crying about it,” He said simply. “Time to wash that sadness away with this!” He holds it up, rocking on his heels in excitement. “I have every installment of Harry Potter there is, and I even brought a little Dumbledore plush for you.” He threw the DVDs in front of the TV, holding up a small bearded man. He wiggled his eyebrows, and you laughed for the first time in hours.

“You’re an idiot,” You grumbled, and he pulled your bean bags chairs in front of the small TV, dragging you as well. He kissed your forehead before plopping on the chairs, turning it on.

“But I’m your idiot.”

You take a deep breath, opening your eyes again. You hear a soft knock, and turn to your home, seeing Yeosang standing inside. He nods at you, a small smile on his lips. You lean up from your spot as he slides the door open, holding a small bag in his hand. Despite his average frame, he bumps his head into your low hanging flags, glaring at it before walking over to you.

“I apologize for not coming earlier, but I have to warn you-”

The door slides open again, and you look past him, seeing the bright red hair of his brother, San. His red eyes brighten as they look at yours, an excited wave sent your way.

After Yeosang and you mended your bond, the rest of the brothers (excluding Yunho) visited you frequently. You are quite surprised that San seems the most eager to learn more about you, stopping by your house several times a week. Yeosang discouraged him often, wrinkling his nose whenever he smelled his scent in your home, but he did like that you got along well. His brothers are his core, and it only pleased him that you and San were so well acquainted.

“y/n!” He screams, and you wince at his loud voice, rivaling even Wooyoung’s. He runs up to you, pulling you off the bench and into his arms. He always smells like a campfire, probably because his essence is entirely made from flames. He pulls back, ruffling your hair. “How is our favorite human doing?”

“Stop speaking to her like she’s an animal,” Yeosang mumbles, his voice immediately tired. “And I told you not to come out until I tell her.”

“I want to be here when you tell her.” San cocks his head, bottom lip purposely poking out as far as possible. “Yunho is leaving soon, we don’t have all day.”

Yeosang slaps his forehead. “I told you I would tell her-”

“Yunho is leaving?” You interrupt, body rigged. “But he’s lived here forever. Why would he go? Where is he going?”

Yeosang runs his fingers through his hair. “He doesn’t need to leave, but he feels that he’s bringing you and Wooyoung too much grief. He thought it would be best if he separated from this town, and left without saying so. I told him that it would only hurt you more if he left without a word, but he insists. I’m here to bring you to his home, and convince him to stay, because the rest of us couldn’t.”

You blink quickly. “Why… why? Who said I wanted him to stay?”

Yeosang raises a brow. He felt the lie before it even graced your lips, your heart beating faster and your hands fidgeting. San clears his throat. “We don’t have time for your silly human denials, Yunho is minutes from leaving.”

You push down the sour feeling that rises in your chest. He’s right, he’s right. You need to act like an adult and face your fear of seeing him again. You nod, and Yeosang wraps his arm around your waist. You yelp as he presses you against his chest.

“Hey, what are you-!”

“We have to fly there, we don’t have time to drive,” He looks down at you, your faces inches apart. “Do you trust me?”

“…Yes.”

“Then close your eyes.”

You shut them quickly.

Your body floats for a brief moment, heart jumping in your chest as you clutch your tightest onto Yeosang’s shirt. Your hair slaps against your face, cheeks sucked in and nose flaring. The burst of air is so quick, you don’t even get the chance to scream. Yeosang’s arms let you go, and you open your eyes.

You stand in front of Yunho’s apartment. Yeosang brushes your hair away from your face, eyes on yours. His blue flicks between yours, making sure you’re okay.

“Do you feel alright?” He asks, and you nod quickly.

San falls onto the ground seconds later, dirt flying everywhere. Yeosang leans back up, slight annoyance on his features. You love when they interact with one another; since Yeosang is older, he always scowls San whenever he gets the chance. San, despite his cold demeanor from before, is playful and full of life, eyes always sparkling at the newest discoveries.

You pat down your clothes, and run up to Yunho’s door. You don’t bother knocking, swinging it open. He always keeps it unlocked, explaining to you before that he’s not scared of someone robbing him. You always called him crazy, at least, until you realized why he isn’t scared.

Boxes are stacked up around his home. You push past them, looking around for him. Your eyes move to his figure sitting on the couch, head in his hands. He moves them away, looking back at you. You’re still not used to the endless black that looks at you, and he sighs, tugging on his roots.

“Yeosang brought you, didn’t he?” He asks softly. “I didn’t want you to know about this. You were fine without me being here since you found him. You don’t need me anymore.”

“Shut the fuck up for two minutes, Yun,” you move next to him, and he doesn’t flinch as you sit only a foot away. Your eyes scan him. His black eyes look at you, waiting for you to tell him how much you hate him, and that you’re happy he’s leaving.

But you pull his body into yours, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. He feels the tears fall from your eyes, but he doesn’t dare hug you back. He’s afraid that you’ll only push him away. You hold him for a few more moments, before pulling back, wiping your soggy lids.

“I’ve been thinking about what to say to you for so long, how to tell you how much I hated-” his body stiffened at that word- “that you pretended for so long. That you lied to me my whole life, and it took for Yeosang to appear for you to say that everything was a lie. But you know, I didn’t stop thinking about how much you helped me when I was younger.”

You watch as his face stares at yours. Yunho that’s your best friend, your brother, and your family.

“You taught me how to brush on my own. You taught me how to deal with heartbreak in the best and worst ways, you mourned with me when one of my friends passed in college. You taught me that kissing a boy doesn’t mean you’re pregnant, and you taught me right from wrong. God, I hated my parents at some points, and you even came in as my best friend and helped me see that sometimes, parents make mistakes and that no one is perfect. And it was all you. You, you made me into the person that I am today, and I can’t hate you for that.”

His hand trembles when you place yours on the top, squeezing his fingers.

“I cried for so many days when I found out. I cursed at you so much that I didn’t realize that you saved me. You took me out of that house when I was abandoned by the people who created me. You could have left me to die, but you didn’t. Yunho, you saved my life. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for that.”

You reach up, rubbing the tears that fall from his cheeks. “I don’t care about you being a Dragon, I don’t care that your eyes are black or that your laugh makes me want to scream sometimes.”

He cracks a grin, and your heart warms.

“I just don’t want you to leave thinking that I haven’t forgiven you when I already did. All you wanted was to protect me from danger, and I can’t blame you for that. Like you told me, everyone makes mistakes. We just have to accept, move on and grow.”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead against yours. The same thing that your parents, no, he did when you were a child. “You say that I saved you, but you saved me.” He says softly. “And I will never regret taking care of you. No matter how much you screamed and cried as I changed your diaper, no matter how much I struggled with teaching you the Human way of things. No matter how much I wanted to give up, seeing your face the next day only brought me joy, and I’ll never regret that, Pumpkin.”

You giggle softly at the nickname, “Thank you, Mr. Adult.”

“Well, I guess I can’t leave my kid behind, huh?” He teases, pulling back. You groan, throwing yourself back onto the couch.

“No Dad jokes Yun, I swear to god-”

“Ain’t no God here but me, bay-bee,” He snorts, and you only cover your face with a pillow, a loud scream drowning out his jokes for just a moment.

“I can’t believe I didn’t realize it,” You say. “You literally talk like ‘dad’. The jokes, the mannerisms, I can’t believe I didn’t think about it twice.”

Yunho rolls his eyes. “Why would anyone think that your best friend and your parents are the same person?”

Before you can comment, San bursts through the door, holding a couple of bottles of champagne. Yeosang and Wooyoung drag behind him, both annoyed. You can only giggle at his antics, and he wiggles his brows, yelling about how he loves Human alcohol.

Wooyoung comes next to you, squeezing your shoulder. “Did you make up? Because he’s been whining about you for about a month and I could only take so much.”

“But I thought you didn’t know he was leaving-” You look at Yeosang, and he whistles, waltzing into the kitchen. You glare as he goes, knowing you’re going to have a talk with him later.

-

You rub your eyes, yawning softly as you stand in the kitchen. Yeosang is supposed to be gone for the next few days, helping a small village somewhere continents away to replenish their water supply. He told you countless times that he can do it from the coziness of his home, but you insisted that he actually leave his cabin, and your immediate vicinity for once to explore the outside world. That being said, you walk around in one of his shirts he’s left behind and your underwear, comfortably hidden underneath the fabric. You’ve been a bit cautious around him recently, realizing that you both feel the same attraction for one another. But you know how his dragon gets whenever it gets a whiff of your scent, so you stay layered whenever he’s near.

He’s been a bit strange lately, walking around you in circles every once in a while, eyes on yours as he waits for you to say something. But you immediately called him weird and pushed him away, a sigh falling from his lips as he ignored you for the rest of that day. He always sniffed you from your side as well, rubbing his arm against you for a moment before continuing on in a conversation. You weren’t exactly sure what he would be doing, and you’re a bit anxious to ask. Yeosang is an open book, but you can tell when some things bother him, how he shuts down. Especially at the mention of his Mother, who he never speaks about, and if he does, very vaguely.

You sip your coffee, sitting on the edge of your kitchen stool and flicking through the channels on the TV that rests on your counter. Gordon Ramsay pops up on your screen, and you turn it up, giggling at how he ridicules someone for not knowing how to boil an egg. You hear the creak of your door, and glance over, expecting to see Wooyoung or Yunho.

But Yeosang walks around the corner, eyes a bit tired. He looks at you, a small smile on his lips. You jump up, running over to him and throwing yourself into his arms. He laughs as you wrap them around his neck, his face tucked into yours. He breathes in deeply, missing how you smell. His body grows stiff as you pull away, hopping over to the microwave to heat up your coffee.

You walk over to the stove, pouting at the little amount of apples you have left crisping. “Sorry Yeo, I didn’t think you’d show up until the middle of the week. Do you want some bananas? I have a couple left-”

Your eyes flick to him. The sparkly eyes that you’re used to seeing are dark, the deepest blue you’ve ever seen them. His eyes are focused on your legs, trailing up and ending where his shirt began. You tremble at his gaze and he closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath. His hand grabs the counter next to him, biting his lip as he tries to keep himself together.

“Yeo, are you alright?”

His pupils are blown once they look back at you, trembling each time you take a soft step towards him.

“Don’t move, y/n. Please.” He asks desperately. “Why are you wearing that? Why do you smell different?”

You feel the chill of his skin as you stand only a few feet away from him. You think back to the first time he looked like this, eyes focused on yours. This time, there’s nothing separating the two of you; only his pure resilience and your poor judgment. You think back to what you could have done to make him this way, and your heart drops. You haven’t taken your birth control in a while. Wooyoung told you that he’ll drop it off, but he never did, and it slipped your mind. His chest rises and falls quickly as he waits for you to say something.

“I… I forgot to take my birth control,” You say, and his chest rumbles at your words. You feel your core clench, and he whines, turning away.

“I can’t, I can’t do this,” he mumbles. “y/n, I need you to stand right there and don’t move, or else I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” You ask softly, pulling down your shirt. He only flicks his head back quickly.

“I’ll fuck you into that counter,” he says simply. You know that he’s trying his best to remain in control, but you see the strain on his neck, the white of his knuckles as he keeps himself steady. “Do you want me to do that, y/n?”

His voice flips, hands slowly moving off of the marble. His eyes are blazed as he keeps them trained on you, flicking to whenever you take a step back or move your arm.

“Answer me.”

You try to hear through the deep tone of his voice but your head is throbbing. He has no idea how much you’ve wanted this, wanted him to claim you as his mate. You thought his odd behaviors were only reasons to push you away, his hands rarely gracing your skin.

He stalks toward you, hands dragging against the counter as he watches you play with him, avoiding his steps and doing the opposite of his movements.“I have but so much patience, y/n.”

“I want you to fuck me,” You whisper, and he visibly trembles at your words, quickly walking around the counter. You know he loves the game, so you run quickly into the living room.

Yeosang follows close behind with ease, twirling you around and pressing your chest against his. You feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his breaths frantic with need.

“y/n, if we start, there’s no going back,” You hear the sweet voice of Yeosang speak through the lust cloud of the dragon. “Mating is a lifelong commitment. It can be treated with uneasiness. Once you say yes,” his hands brushes against your cheek. “I won’t be able to hold myself back.”

You never thought that you’d like him, let alone love him. His hard exterior is the toughest you’ve had to break through, but inside is the man that you love. The dragon that you love.You reach up, running your hands along his cheek. He leans into your warmth against his cool skin, waiting for your answer with thin patience. You can feel his growing arousal resting against your stomach as you whisper the words he wants to hear.

“I love you, Yeo. I want this, I want you.”

You pull away and he lets you, watching you as you fall back onto the pull out couch, the bed already made. The switch is almost immediate. Soft, smiling Yeo is gone.

He leans over you, pressing his lips to yours immediately. He bites your lower lip, begging to enter you. You don’t protest, letting his tongue explore you. He doesn’t let up, as if he’s searching for something within you. He sucks on your tongue for a moment before moving away.

He grabs your legs, spreading you wide. He presses himself against you, and you ground as he licks a strip up the cloth underwear, before ripping it off easily. He doesn’t waste time; pressing his face into your wet cunt as you tremble at his touch. Three fingers push into you immediately with little prep, and you yelp.

His eyes flick to yours in concern, but seeing you nod, he pushes in and out quickly. His plump lips wrap around your slick as your cunt sucks in his fingers with little resistance. The sounds of your moans echo around the room as he eagerly growls into you, fingers hitting your g-spot with ease. As if he’s done this dozens of times. He grinds himself into the couch, ears perking up as you encourage him to go faster with his strokes. You arch your back as you feel him slip four fingers into you, five, your high slowly reaching its peak. You almost fall over, until Yeosang pulls out quickly. He pulls off his shirt, your eyes scanning over his body.

His skin is covered with what looks like scales, brightly colored blues tracing his chest. He always wears long sleeves, so you never noticed how from elbow up, his arm is decorated with tattoos, some in writings you can’t quite understand. He doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it; ripping off his pants.

His cock springs out onto his belly, and you groan at the size, until you see something else underneath. Another cock, the equal size, sits underneath the first, light blue, dripping with precum. His eyes scan yours, waiting for you to reject him and push him away.

“You’re beautiful,” You say, smiling up at him.

His face reflects his smile as he leans down, pressing his lips lightly against yours. His cocks twitch against your cunt and he groans, licking the curve between your shoulder and neck lightly.

“This isn’t like Humans,” He says, rocking his cocks between your folds slowly. You try your best to concentrate on his voice, feeling the ridges of him brush lightly against your clit. “When I’m about to cum, I’ll bite your neck, y/n. I won’t let go until I’m finished.” He curses, looking between your bodies to see his cocks rub slowly. “I need to know you’re okay with me putting both of them in you. I can put in one if you want, we can stop if you want to-”

“Just do it, Yeosang. I want to feel all of you, I want you to fuck me until I can’t speak, mark my neck and make me yours-”

He presses his tips into you, and you tremble, your first orgasm immediately hitting you, your cunt tightening against him as you moan. He lets you come down from your high, before continuing his slow descent into you. He presses his lips against yours, trying his best to distract you from the stretch your pussy is getting. He tightens his eyes, shoving himself into you in one even stroke.

Your cunt is so tight against his cocks, that he can’t even move for a moment, you hold on him too tight. His balls rest against the outside of your lips, and you’re amazed at how much can fit inside your, the feeling of him completely taking over all of your senses. You know he wants to go as slow as he can, but he can only control himself for so long.

“Ease up, y/n,” He mumbles softly, rubbing your arm softly. You wrap your arms around him, feeling the smoothness of his scales underneath your fingertips. You let go for a moment and he lets out a breath he’s holding, slowly dragging his cock out of you. His eyes look back down, seeing your arousal coating his two cocks.

Your hands reach down, pushing him against you again. He chuckles lowly, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Can’t wait to fuck you like a real dragon would.”

Before you could respond, he sinks back into you quickly. Your soft moans fall off your lips as he moves in and out of you, the rolling of his hips hitting yours with ease. He runs his tongue along your sweaty neck, hips not stuttering once. You can feel how much he’s pacing himself, the clench of his brows and the strained veins in his neck.

“Go faster,” You encourage, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to go faster, I can hurt you.”

“Yeosang if you don’t fuck me, we’re not doing this again.” It’s a lie. It’s an utter, total lie, but he believes it.

He leans up, grabbing both of your legs and placing them on his shoulders. His pace quickens, hips becoming bolder as he collides with your flesh, the squelching sounds echoing in your living room. Yeosang couldn’t care less about how loud he’s being, groaning as he sees you in front of him, your top half still covered and your bottom filled with him.

“All of this, just for me. No one can ever have you, see you like this,” He whispers. “Look at your stomach, I can see my cocks moving in and out of you.” He grunts, strokes relentless. “You’ll look so beautiful filled with my cum, smelling only like me.”

“Yeo,” You struggle through your gasps, and he smirks as drool falls down your cheeks, your eyes moist and head thrown back. “P-Please don’t stop. Fill me up baby.”

His snarl makes your body tremble. He presses his lips to your leg, pace quickening. You hear the strain of your couch under this much movement, hoping that it doesn’t break.

His muscles strain, veins popping out on his arm as he revels in the feeling of your cunt around him. His hips seem to only go faster and faster, cocks easily moving in and out of you. The slap of his skin against yours only fills your mind, his moans music to your ears. You feel how hard his tips hit the inside of you, watch as your belly moves in and out as his cocks swell inside of you. If you weren’t so filled with the thought of him, you’d be terrified that he’d rip you apart with how fast he’s going.

He keeps up the merciless pace with ease, mouth open as he pants, eyes not leaving yours. The slapping of his balls against your lips are music to your ears, and you feel the rise of your arousal coming once again. It’s much quicker this time. He seems to sense it without your words, dropping your legs and pressing himself into you.

“Cum for me,” He says. He grips your hips as he slams into you, his pumping pace making you see stars. His teeth brush against your throat, and you scream as you reach your high. “I love you.”

He sinks his teeth into you, his hips sputtering as he claims you as his. You scream through the pain and the pleasure of him inside you. Your climax hits you so hard, legs wrapping around him as he pumps into you. His hips sputter, his balls slapping against you a few more times until he hits you hard once more. You feel the warmth of his cum hit your walls, filling you up. His cold body wraps around you as he runs his tongue along the wound, slowly closing it up.

Only your quick breaths fill the room as Yeosang pulls you on top of him, your sweaty bodies pressed against one another. He doesn’t slip out, letting his cocks rest inside you as his fingers trace your back.

“Two cocks? Scales?” You say into the silence, and he laughs, pressing his lips against your forehead. “You could have warned me about that, you know.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He says softly. “I didn’t expect for this to happen right when I got home.”

“Home?” You say, lifting your head and looking at him. You see the deep blush coat his cheeks, the cheeks that you love. You laugh, pressing your lips against his chest. “You’re my home.”

He chuckles slowly.“And you’re mine.”

[enmi-land]

#OO1. THE PRiNCESS & THE EGG

𝓘. ──── . . . 𝑀𝗂𝗅𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗅𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖣𝗂𝗌𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖯𝗋𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗌.

🥚 𝓲-LAND EPiSODE 1 𓈀 4.0k ꗃ ❛ KOR, ENG, JP, CHi ❜ ✖ NO WARNiNGS! `⎚⩊⎚´ NEXT ꒰ NOTE ✦ There will be no mention of Lee Youngbin in this or any future episodes of I-Land because he’s trash. Also, the Korean aging system will be used for all I-Land chapters to avoid confusion.

shall we go 𝓲NTO THE NEW WORLD ?

Mila is halfway through a forest located in an unfamiliar sector of Seoul, when she thinks that she may have just signed away her life. And in a way, she is right—‘survival show’ being the first hint—but not quite in the way she was originally thinking with her overly active imagination. 

BigHit is about as trustworthy as an entertainment company can be in this day and age. Their company headquarters is an industrial building located at the same address provided on their website, and thankfully not an abandoned strip mall in the middle of a street that hasn’t been renovated since the revolution of push-button phones. They also have enough hotshots (well, technically only two if you don’t count acquired groups, but TXT and BTS honestly make up for it) under their label that any unsuspecting teenagers their scouting agents pounce on in the middle of the street are more likely to jump for joy than call the police.

Those are all green flags by industry standards, by the way.

A girl can do a lot worse than BigHit for her first idol traineeship, that’s for sure. But no one can fault Mila—a foreigner and a young woman—for doubting them just a tiny bit when the black vehicle, which was supposed to transport her to the venue of the new idol factory called I-Land, drops her off in front of a Hunger Games-esque forest and drives away before she can even turn her back to the road.

The one thing that eventually reassures Mila that she didn’t fall for an elaborate plot to traffic her organs is the fact that she has Kiara next to her. No one in their right mind would try their luck with her. (Well, that and Kiara actually made sure to carefully read every word on the contract for the show—fine print, included—before signing it.) So by the time Mila is out of the woods and into the I-Land building, she’s already forgotten her momentary suspicion towards her perfectly respectable, lawful company.

Mila throws up a peace sign when she spots a camera on the way inside I-Land and shoots a smile-and-wink combo its way. She doesn't question why the lighting is barely brighter than the corridors of a nightclub (not that she knows what those look like, being only seventeen), and just follows Kiara, who easily navigates through the halls like the semi-professional Pac-Man player that she is.

The two girls eventually make it to a doorless frame which, in Mila’s humble opinion, resembles a gate to the afterlife with the way it’s practically glowing. It isn’t until she gets closer that she realises it’s because it leads right into another room—one with much better lighting. Mila has to squint a little to adjust her eyes to the sight of a bright, white stage in the middle of a black room, and long benches arranged in an upside-down U shape that several people are already seated on.

It looks like she and Kiara are one of the later arrivals. She’s honestly not sure whether to feel grateful that she wasn’t one of the first trainees—forced to wait for however long it takes for people to make it out of the Forest of Death—or unnerved by the fact that being one of the later trainees means there are just that much more people staring at her as she follows Kiara through the door.

Right. Well, then…

There is a bunch of whispering as the two girls enter the room—which, to be honest, is entirely expected. Kiara is a celebrity among trainees, even as a trainee herself. She is the epitome of the overachieving student that parents with high expectations compare their young, impressionable and insecure children to on a daily basis. Everyone has heard her name at least once in their time as a trainee.

Mila, on the other hand, is the overgrown puppy that is always seen following her everywhere, and has become something like a neighbourhood stray that everyone knows and gives free headpats and snacks to. A BigHit mascot, if you will.

In other words, they have a fair amount of clout.

Mila and Kiara watch as the other trainees stand and bow politely in greeting, causing both of them to return the gesture. Mila is somewhat distracted, though, because she’s trying to figure out how she’s supposed to get to them. Her face scrunches in confusion. There is no path connecting the platform that holds Mila and Kiara and the platform with the other trainees, which makes no sense.

She wonders if the interior designers of this building are fans of Subway Surfers and expect her to jump over the gaping space between the two platforms like she has a jetpack booster or something, because what in the world is this?

Mila jolts in fright when there is a sound of mechanical whirring and the platform that she is standing on begins to move forward without any warning. She immediately latches onto Kiara on reflex, and she swears she can see her soul flying towards the ceiling. So do excuse her language, but mothertrucker—

“That scared me!” Mila whisper-exclaims. There is a round of quiet laughter that reminds her she isn’t alone, and she immediately covers her mouth while side-eyeing the rest of the trainees, who seem to be fixated on her with looks of either amusement or admiration—or a little bit of both.

Ah. How could Mila forget? She is the trainee with the lauded title of ‘Best Face’ (no, really, it’s an actual superlative used by BigHit’s marketing team for the lucky duck they deem most likely to succeed as a visual in any group), and she is reminded of it when her ears manage to catch some of the comments about her from the other trainees.

It’s not hard to hear the overlapping whispers of “pretty” that take over the room. But she swears she hears someone—one of the younger male trainees, judging from the voice—say something along the lines of, “It’s a fairy!”

That comment in particular makes Mila smile, because dammit, that’s so cute!

Kiara turns to Mila with her typical resting bitch face (it could be the YG in her that’s responsible for it—but honestly, if you ask Mila, it’s simply because Kiara is just Like That). The older girl doesn’t say anything about Mila’s sudden giddiness, instead choosing to ask, “Where do you want to sit?”

“Hm?” Mila looks around. “Oh.”

The platform makes it to the seating area (finally—it was kind of awkward to stand on, with how slow it was moving) and she gets to look at the other trainees. She immediately recognises Heeseung in his tye-dye shirt, and Sunghoon and Jay are predictably standing next to him in black and white. Mila’s immediate thought is to sit next to them. But then she reckons that since they already know each other well enough, she should really get to know the other trainees she’ll be spending the next few months with.

It never hurts to make new friends, right?

Mila eyes an empty spot on the opposite end of the bench, between a guy in a green shirt and a female trainee.

That’ll do it!

“Let’s go here, here.”

Mila instantly tugs Kiara towards her chosen seat, and the boys sitting nearby instantly shuffle down to make more room for them. Mila recognises the sweet gesture for what it is, and gives them a small bow of gratitude. She then turns and bows to the female trainee—who is around her age, by the looks of it—before taking a seat. Kiara is taking a seat on Mila’s other side, closest to the guy in the green shirt, while Mila decides to greet the trainee next to her.

“Hi! I’m Mila by the way,” she says enthusiastically, “and this is my unit partner, Kiara.”

The female trainee instantly perks up, though she sports a flush on her cheeks. “I’m Hwayoung!”

To Mila’s surprise, Hwayoung then gestures to the two boys next to her—who are already looking straight at Mila. She didn’t get to look at their faces properly before, but now that she’s so close, it’s hard not to see just how handsome they are.

She never thought it possible for someone to give Sunghoon, or even Heeseung and Jay, a run for their money as the top placeholders of ‘Mila’s Most Handsome Faces.’ But here she is, looking at two boys—one with luscious lips, and one with foxy eyes—with an aesthetic appreciation she usually reserves for absolute perfection.

“These are my unit members, Kim Sunoo and Sim Jaeyun.”

So those are their names, Mila thinks as she stares at them unashamedly. But then Hwayoung’s words catch up to her, and she is forced to turn away, her head whipping towards Hwayoung with wide eyes. Both she and Kiara are shell-shocked as the two boys bow in greeting. “You three came here together?”

“Ah, yes…” Jaeyun chuckles and bites his lips (there’s no way that isn’t on purpose, right?), before running his hand through his hair. It’s a common nervous tick to have, so Mila can give him the benefit of the doubt. But she doesn’t think she’s ever seen someone be so flirtatiously nervous before, and she honestly doesn’t know what he’s trying to achieve.

All she can say is, if he’s trying to fluster her, it’s working really well.

…He’s hot, okay?

“Now that I think about it, we’re probably the only mixed unit here,” Sunoo states.

“No kidding,” Kiara says. Even if this is a co-ed survival show, there haven't been many cases before the announcement of I-Land where male and female trainees perform together on their own accord. 

Mila opens her mouth to say something, but then makes eye contact with Jaeyun—who’s smiling in amusement—and all she can manage is a quiet, “Okay.” This earns her a heart-fluttering laugh from the boy, which in turn makes Mila malfunction. She blinks rapidly, and everyone next to her can probably hear the sound of a Microsoft Windows computer software crashing.

Mila clears her throat. “Anyway! Have you guys known each other for long?”

“Not really,” Hwayoung says, fiddling with her fingers in her lap. “We only met a few months ago. I was meant to audition with other girls, but they decided to withdraw at the last minute, so I was stuck without a group. Sunoo and Jaeyun offered to group together with me because they were also in a group of three, but had one member leave the company.”

“Ohhhh, that’s good it all worked out then!” Mila says with a smile. Hwayoung agrees with a nod. 

“How about you two?” Hwayoung gestures to Mila and Kiara.

“Ah, we’ve known each other for two years now,” Mila says. “Kiara-unnie was one of the first trainees I met when I first moved here from China.”

Kiara had been just as much as a legend even then, being a YG trainee before she moved to BigHit around a year before Mila arrived. She was the one assigned to give Mila a tour around the company. That was virtually all it took before Mila decided to fixate on her like newborn chicks do to the first thing it sees once it hatches. It helped that Kiara was one of the only fluent English-speaking trainees at the time, which—because of the lack of Chinese trainees—was invaluable for Mila in order to communicate.

To this day, people still express their surprise when Mila tells them that Kiara was the one to painstakingly lower her fever when she got sick for the first time as a trainee, or that she’s the one who irons her uniform every night so Mila can look presentable at school. They credit Mila for being able to thaw the Ice Queen’s so-called frozen heart. But really, Kiara has never been anything but a warm and loving soul.

“You must be close then.” Hwayoung says it in a way that’s not really a question but a statement. 

Mila immediately nods. “Exactly.” 

Kiara smiles from next to her, and rubs her back fondly.

“Ah—wait a second, you’re a foreigner?” Sunoo asks in shock. “Your Korean is so good, I didn’t expect it!”

“Thanks!” Mila laughs. 

She sure hopes so! Between all the Korean lessons and being surrounded by the culture everyday for two years, Mila would be embarrassed if she weren’t able to hold her own in the language. The only times she’s needed to use English or Chinese since moving to Korea are when she’s with foreigners who aren’t as confident with any other language, or when she’s talking to family over the phone. She’s pretty proud of it, actually.

“You must have been pretty young when you moved, then,” Hwayoung observes thoughtfully.

Mila hums non-committedly. “I was fourteen, so I wasn’t that young then compared to some foreign trainees who leave home these days.”

“That’s still young, though?” Jaeyun says with comically wide eyes.

Mila laughs sheepishly. “We’re probably the same age, so I don’t know.”

“Speaking of which,” Kiara interjects, “how old is everyone here?”

Mila tilts her head. “Right. How should I address everyone? I’m a 03-liner…”

“Oh, really?” Sunoo suddenly perks up with excitement, jumping in before Hwayoung can respond. “I’m also a 03-liner, too!”

Mila feeds off his excitement, clapping her hands together. “Wah, seriously? I don’t have any same-age friends! This is so cool…” She does a little kicking motion with her feet without realising it, looking a lot like the giddy teenaged girl that she is. “You can talk to me casually, then!”

“You too, you too!” Sunoo beams. And, wow, he might be even prettier than she is, to be completely honest. 

“Huh? What about me?” Jaeyun asks, feeling a little left out of the sweet bonding moment. But then a lightbulb appears to flash above his head in realisation of something. He smiles widely again—damn him—and places a hand on his chest as he looks at Mila. “Oh, wait—I’m older than you.”

Mila blinks, eyes wide. “Seriously?”

She suddenly gets hit by deja vu. Because is it just her, or has she been in this situation before? Wait—no, she definitely has. It occurs to her just then. A few years ago, it was Heeseung; then Jay, then Sunghoon—every time she meets a guy she finds particularly attractive, they happen to somehow be older than her.

Huh.

Well, let no one think that Milana Bai is anything less than consistent. She clearly has a type.

Jaeyun is still grinning at Mila and she stutters out a pathetic, “Okay,” since that is obviously the only thing she knows how to say when she’s flustered. 

Really, it would be much better if the boys on this show were average-looking, or less than—but that obviously isn’t the case. Whoop-dee-doo.

Hwayoung, the godsend, chooses that moment to interject into the conversation. She states that she is the same age as Jaeyun (Mila will probably have to address him as ‘Oppa’ eventually, won’t she?) and Kiara establishes her dominance as the eldest, being born in the good old year of twenty-zero-one. Then of course, Sunghoon and Jay, being the busybodies that they are, choose to invite themselves into the conversation to state their own ages as proud World Cup Babies—even though nobody asked.

She catches Sunhoon’s gaze, blinking questioningly as he stares at her—most likely because of her decision not to sit near them, when there had been a space next to Heeseung at the time Mila and Kiara arrived. The two have a little staring match, which doesn’t take long for Jaeyun to notice. His head turns left and right between them like he’s watching a ball being hit back and forth in a Wii tennis match.

“Do you all know each other?” Jaeyun asks, referring to Kiara and Mila, then to Jay and Sunghoon. (Heeseung is busy talking to some other trainees on his other side—which is probably for the best. It’s a bit cumbersome trying to talk to so many people while they’re sitting in a row.)

Jay nods. He glances at Mila, whose eyes are still locked with Sunghoon. “Yeah. We’ve all been friends for a while now.”

“Wah…” Sunoo and Hwayoung both seem impressed by this, for some reason.

“Right,” Mila affirms, “which is why it’s good to meet new people.”

She makes sure to direct the last bit at Sunghoon, who looks away, clearly sulking. He’s always been like that, though—always just a little bit possessive of the friends he makes. Sunoo, Hwayoung and Jaeyun are the opposite, however, and seem pleased by Mila’s words.

The ball is well and truly rolling now, and they chat without any awkwardness. There are a few intermissions due to new arrivals, which happens a lot until finally there are a total of twenty-seven trainees crammed onto the benches, looking like a colourful pasta necklace Mila would have made in elementary school. That’s a lot of trainees—especially considering that there are screens displaying the number fifteen, instead of the number of trainees there actually are inside the room right now.

“What do you think that’s about?” Mila asks Kiara, nodding towards the number.

Kiara shrugs. “Dunno. We’ll probably learn soon, though.”

True to her words, a blaring siren noise disturbs the peace of the room and causes more than one trainee to jolt in surprise. Mila is glad she isn’t the only one this time, but she thinks she may have let a little squeak escape her lips. Oops.

A voice soon follows, announcing the rules of the show to the trainees through many speakers located around the room in a cinema effect. Mila’s head admittedly drifts among the clouds for majority of the melodramatic spiel, but she manages to catch the important details. Basically, an audition will be held to decide the fifteen trainees worthy of entering the esteemed ‘I-Land’—and the ones who decide who enters will be themselves.

Inch-rest-ing.

Mila doesn’t even have to look at Kiara to know that she definitely wants to go first. It makes the most sense, after all.

No sooner than the voice finishes announcing the commencement of the so-called Entrance Test, Kiara is shooting up from her seat with Mila hot on her heels. They move so quickly that no one is able to react until they’re halfway to the stage. She can feel the way all the eyes in the room are pinned to her back, and is grateful that Kiara is here with her, or she never would have had the nerve to walk up so confidently—much less as the opening act.

But, well, Mila can’t really call it confidence if she feels like she might projectile vomit because of her nerves, can she? (Maybe she shouldn’t have had that chocolate donut on the way here, after all…) She barely registers having her mic attached to her, because her brain is trying to distract her in the only way it knows how to.

Aha, listen boy~ My first love story—

Mila clears her throat to stop herself from laughing out loud at her own thoughts. She instantly looks more confident though, and does her obligatory introduction without a hitch. “My name is Mila. I’m seventeen years old and I’m from China. I’ve been dancing for four years now.”

“I’m Kiara, and I’m nineteen years old,” Kiara starts to introduce herself—even though she really doesn’t need to. “My specialty is rap and songwriting.” 

They bow, and their audience applauds politely as they get into position. There’s a few loud beeps that serve as a countdown. At the end of it, Mila and Kiara instantly spring into action when the room resounds with the first few notes of EXO’s Call Me Baby.

Kiara starts the performance off on a strong foot with her strong rap, so Mila makes sure her efforts aren’t in vain and carries through with equally strong vocals. It gets time for the bridge—which is her time to shine—and she surprises herself with how good she sounds as she delivers her lines. (Then again, after hours and hours of drilled practice for this moment, it would be embarrassing not to deliver anything less than a peak performance.) She can’t see the trainees’ expressions, since the room is dark except for the stage, but she wants to imagine that they’re impressed.

And apparently they are.

Mila is practically heaving by the end of the performance (attractively, she hopes—she has an image to protect), after having used her lungs to their maximum capacity. But it’s worth it when she hears the applause that follows her finishing pose. She almost feels like a real idol, though she knows she’s a long way from being one. Still, she allows herself to savour the victory of today—watching with triumph as twenty-five hands fly into the air to vote for her spot in I-Land.

Mila feels the urge to fall to her knees in relief and wobbles on her way back to her seat like she’s jelly on a plate. She is greeted with warm compliments from her friends and feels the weight lifted off her shoulders. As everyone is settling down from the hype of her and Kiara’s performance, she manages to catch Heeseung’s gaze for the first time today. She feels her cheeks warming when he smiles softly at her before mouthing an unmistakable, “Good job.”

She hides her giddiness for the rest of the Entrance Test, but not very well. It shows in her actions anyway, since by the time the last group finished performing, she’s voted for twenty-five trainees—that is, everyone except herself and Kiara. 

It's a bit uncomfortable whenever someone is eliminated, as a bright red square is lit up beneath their feet like a beacon announcing their failure to the world. Fortunately for her close friends—and newer ones—they manage to pass with flying colours.

There are familiar faces, including a few of her fellow BigHit trainees. Aside from Heeseung, Sunghoon, and Jay, she sees Jungwon (who looks as cute as ever, she must add) and his unit perform All I Wanna Do by Jay Park, which is a pleasant surprise because despite being under the same label, Mila has never actually heard the boy sing before. He had been holding out on her. She had no idea his voice was so pleasant to listen to.

There were also the other female trainees—four of them to be exact, excluding herself and Kiara. There was a duo of girls from Be:Lift—Sena and Gyuri—and a soloist, Yumeko, as well as Hwayoung, who was of course with Jaeyun and Sunoo. Their unit in particular left an impression, as they were the last to perform. But not only that, their performance of Crown was so endearing that she couldn’t help but smile, which she made sure to tell them as they returned to their seats with success.

“I was so thankful when you raised your hands for us” Jaeyun says with a smile. It’s fine, though, since he’s facing Sunghoon and Jay—oh, never mind, he’s turning to face Mila now. “Thanks so much.”

Sunghoon, thankfully, comes to the rescue and offers sincere if not awkward reassurance. “We voted for you because you’re good.”

Mila nods in agreement. But that isn’t really the only reason she voted for them—or everyone else. She just doesn’t see the reasoning behind her evaluating others trainees, when she herself is one too and doesn’t really know any better than they do.

(But there’s apparently more of them than the I-Land capacity allows—judging from the negative number being displayed on the screens—so she’s not sure how that’s gonna work out.)

Of course, not everything can be sunshine and rainbows on a survival show. Because viewer ratings are obviously dependent on the level of teenaged misery and drama that the producers can elicit from the trainees, this is probably the easiest that it’s ever gonna be. 

The real work begins as soon as Mila enters the abomination that will one day haunt her dreams years into the future, otherwise known as The Egg™. 

taglist⠀( OPEN ! ) ⦂ @em1ejiee @menichoi @dracoslovergirl @rosas-in-the-garden @blossominghunnie @lovelypham @cornenhapovs @nee-issaire @jwnstars @tommina @queenriki7

© ENMI-LAND, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE, REPOST

[teecupangel]

Why not just Desmond being an angel.

And it freaks everybody out and everybody thinks he's holy or something and he's just like "all right okay why not"

It had happened by accident.

It had to be an accident, right?

Altaïr had been thrown out of the room and the Templars had unsheathed their weapons. Malik had been focused on protecting his brother, shouting at him to run as he tried to keep all of the Templars busy.

Robert de Sablé didn’t even look back when he walked away after ordering their death.

Malik didn’t know what happened.

He saw Kadar freeze when he neared the scaffolding that would lead to the treasure and Malik swore his eyes glowed gold for the briefest of moments.

Before one of the Templars charged at him.

Kadar snapped out of it and tried to block, his stance unstable enough that he slipped backwards.

Into the scaffolding…

Taking the Templar with him.

The Templar’s sword struck one of the wooden pillars keeping the scaffolding stable and…

Malik didn’t have any explanation for it.

It shouldn’t have happened.

The scaffolding started to crumble, making Kadar and the Templar run away from it as fast as they could.

And then…

The wall next to the scaffolding began to break apart, golden light coming from the cracks before the entire thing fell down.

Together with the treasure and the ark where it had been resting.

The ark broke in half, splitting in the middle to reveal an egg shaped thing made of stone that was around the height of perhaps Malik when he was sitting on the floor.

The treasure fell on top of it, shattering like it was made of glass.

Where the shards fell on the stone, the stone changed and spread.

Until…

What had been stone had changed to seemingly three pairs of wings with white feathers that seemed to shine gold all curled together.

The wings twitched…

Before slowly opening, stretching to its full size.

Revealing a young man seemingly sleeping, the three pairs of wings attached to his back. His head was resting on his propped up knees.

No one could speak.

No one could move.

Until…

“Altaïr?” Kadar whispered hesitantly and Malik could see why he would call out that fool’s name.

The man looked too much like Altaïr for it to be a coincidence.

Almost as if hearing the name, the man…

No.

The divine being in front of them opened his eyes.

Instead of Altaïr’s golden eyes, his eyes were light brown with specks of gold in them.

And Malik wondered how he could see them from where he was standing, a few meters away from the winged being.

The divine being looked around and blinked.

His eyes met Malik and his lips parted.

“It’s an angel!”

Before he could speak, the Templars all knelt and began to pray.

The Templar who had attacked Kadar took off his helmet and…

It was a woman.

A woman who was praying fervently at the divine being who…

… looked at Malik with wide confused eyes.

Unorganized Notes… I mean… sorta notes?:

Desmond is surprised for a few seconds then he goes “Be not afraid” and tried to sound super impressive “Ye are in the presence of…………… the will of God.” and he’s just bullshiting his way to uuhhh. He has no plans.

He glanced at Malik and Kadar and oh yeah, alright.

“Ye shall not harm these… men of justice for they are… under my protection…?”

At that point, Desmond knows he is ffuuuccckkeedd. Malik is obviously onto him. Kadar is super confused and just keeps staring at his face. Then…

Maria, of all people, agree and even goes as pledge her sword to him which is super weird and Desmond’s just “???”

In the end, Desmond accidentally takes the Templars about to kill Malik and Kadar with him as he leaves the temple with Malik and Kadar. It’s a very awkward journey and Desmond has no idea what else to do other than…

Oh wait… there were other Templars stationed nearby and they all saw him leave with his ‘entourage’.

Before he could try to say anything, Maria speaks for him, calling the messenger of God and that he had been sleeping in the Ark of the Covenant which sounded like a super big deal (and he can’t even whisper to Malik to ask what the hell she was talking about because the Farm was never religious and the only time Desmond even heard of the Ark of the Covenant was from Indiana Jones) and…

… why does it feel like Maria was converting people into becoming his personal army???

Oh god… Was this…

Was he going to take his own army to Masyaf???

[t4tower-of-t4terror]

‘Cause I Swear, I’d Burn This City Down to Show You the Light

Malleus Draconia x gn reader fluff

Malleus looked forward to your moments together more than anything in this world. He found himself waiting for nightfall, waiting until he could talk with you in front of Ramshackle underneath the light of the moon.

He saw you with your friends every once in a while, laughing and smiling as you all talked. He didn't know what the feeling in his chest was when he saw that. He wanted to bring you those feelings. Malleus would do anything to preserve that smile.

He didn’t know how often he made you smile. Your eyes lit up as you saw the glowing green fireflies through your window. They always preceded his appearance. And before you could blink, there he was, tall and ethereally handsome and standing in your shoddy garden yet again.

The air around you buzzed with his magic. It held the same weight as the air before a late-summer storm. You told him months ago that he was always invited to hang around your dorm and the glow of his joy hung in the air like the glow of his fireflies (were they his? You didn’t know). And so he sat cross-legged on a pillar in front of your home, holding his little egg-shaped tamagotchi in his hands.

Malleus’ head shot up as he heard the loud creak of your door as you rushed to meet him, parcel in hand. You were bounding with energy. The usual fatigue of your nighttime encounters hadn’t hit you yet.

“Hello child of man. What do you have there?” the fae prince asked, cocking his head to the side in the way he often does when confused. You find it endearing.

“Well, it’s your birthday, right? I wanted to be the first one to give you a present!” Malleus felt a pull in his chest, as if his heart was jumping out from his ribcage.

“You remembered? In all honesty, I hadn’t even noticed that the clock had already struck midnight,” he said, trying to cover up the emotion in his voice at you remembering such a small detail about him. A detail he didn’t even remember telling you.

“Lilia came up to me about a week or two ago to tell me that your birthday was today. I wanted to do something for you, so here!” you placed the parcel in his hands.

He carefully undid the wrapping paper to see a bracelet made of shiny plastic beads and string. The beads were green, black, and purple all in an organized sequence. In the middle of the bracelet was “Tsunotarou” spelled out in silver cube-shaped beads with black lettering. Malleus’ eyes widened. He slipped it around his hand and it fit perfectly against his wrist.

“I’m sorry it’s not much. I know you’re probably used to bigger presents. It does glow in the dark, if that makes it any better,” you say, slightly embarrassed that you’re giving the prince of Briar Valley a glow-in-the-dark kandi bracelet.

He takes your hands into his. Softness leaks into his emerald eyes. He’s smiling with similar softness. You can see that he is moved to tears. Malleus experiences his senses and emotions in the strongest ways possible. He is often composed out of necessity. But he lets that mask drop around you. He lets himself be emotional and he talks about the things he loves. And in this moment, the contact of your hands on his holds an intimacy beyond description.

“This means more than you could ever imagine,” Malleus says.

“I have one, too. I had extra beads after making yours. So I made one with your nickname for me. We can match now, if you want,” you say, removing your hands from his grasp to rustle through your pants pocket and pull out your bracelet.

It is in the same colors, except now it says “child of man” in the same silver and black beads. Malleus gasps softly when he sees it, when he sees how the moonlight glints off of the plastic. He takes the bracelet from you and takes your hand again. He slips the elastic string onto your wrist with the same affection that a lover would slip an engagement ring onto the finger of their betrothed. It’s deeply emotional to a point where it feels silly. You’re both on the verge of tears over exchanging bead bracelets. He does not let go of your hand.

Wordlessly, he lifts your hand to his face, pressing his lips against the bump of your knuckle. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Thank you for this gift you’ve bestowed upon me. I will not remove it. You are kinder to me than anyone has been in centuries. I cannot thank you enough, child of man.” Fae do not often cry, but Malleus feels as if he might.

“I also have ice cream inside, if you want,” you offer, breaking him from his spell-like daze.

"Do you want me to stay? It's late," he says.

"Yes, of course I do. I got it just for you. You're always invited here," and he squeezes your hand, unaware that he's even doing so.

"In that case, it would be my pleasure," Malleus says. He is calm, yet sincere.

You walk hand-in-hand to the kitchen of Ramshackle, where a shoddy mini fridge resides on a countertop. You pull out two rectangles, white and wrapped in plastic.

"What kind of ice cream is this?" He sounds excited. You know it's his favorite food.

"It's ice cream sandwiches. They're Neapolitan, so it's vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry all together" and his excitement shows in his face, grateful as you offer him one.

You watch as he tears open the wrapper and sinks his pristinely white fangs into the chocolate cookie and ice cream. He quickly goes into another bite as you start to dig into yours. You can hear the beads on his wrist softly click against each other as his hand moves.

"So? Thoughts?" You ask, licking your lips of the remains of ice cream.

"I like it. I think the addition of all three flavors is unique. If you are more particularly interested in one flavor over the others, you can eat that one first. Or last, if you're so inclined. I prefer to eat my favorite part of a dish last, to savor it the most." You listen as he explains his ice cream preferences.

"Thank you, child of man. You have brought more joy to my life than you could ever know," and you smile. That smile that caused him to fall so hard.

"Could I request one more thing of you?" He asks.

"Yes of course, Tsunotarou," you say with that same smile.

"Could you stay by my side like this? I know about your desire to return home, but I cannot fathom a future without you." He is so tender and earnest in this request-slash-confession that you feel as if the world is just the two of you.

You have grown fond of this world. You looked at your future in your old world with a sense of looming dread. Now, that dread was finally replaced with hope. Despite everything, you were happy here. You had been planning to ask Crowley to cancel his efforts to return you home. You were going to break the news to Malleus after that, but now seemed like a better time.

“Of course I will. I was secretly hoping you’d ask. I know I miss my old world, but this world is kinder to me than that one ever was. I want to stay by your side, Malleus. I want to stay for as long as you’ll have me.” You are just as tender as he is and he perks up in joy.

“It would be an honor to have you with me. I will write home for my grandmother to set up the preparations,” he says, his smooth baritone voice filled to the brim with excitement.

“Preparations? For what?” You ask, slightly confused.

“Our arrival and the announcement of my future co-ruler of the Briar Valley.”

[princessleechan]

“Choi Seungcheol must die” Epilogue

Masterlist

📌chapter tags: SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, written chapter (3.6k), utter fluff and surprises

taglist: @silvsie @christinewithluv @stayinhellevator @aiforyuu @2youngsworld @justcruisingalonguntilbamkpop @asyre @simpxxstan @anzellll @hipsdofangirl @plskillme22 @lirtha97 @lixiel0ver @notevenheretbh1 @leah-rose03 @woozarts @expensive-idiot @doveblackboat @the-boy-meets-evil @tamakis-bbyy @freshdetectivenight @mrsdacherry @smilechannie @alltheshineofthestars-blog @ocyeanicc @horanghaezone @wonuqrtz @leewonkyeom @horangboosadan @kkooongie @myghobi @wonunuwoo @wonwootakemyheart @shuasunshine @dinonuguaegi @ckline35 @miriamxsworld @itsokaytobedumb00 @seokgyuu @nishloves @bmkgemz @conwunder @kawaiimusiccollection @humankimbap @ashes23 @writingbarnes @strawberryya

A year later

The morning sun filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow that gently penetrates the small gaps in your closed eyes. With a sleepy squint, you flutter your lashes as you gradually emerge from a deep slumber. Shifting your head from the pillow, a hand extends out from the cozy depths of the blanket, wrapping around your frame.

“Stop it…” a groaning voice protests.

“You're the one who wanted to share my bed,” you mumble, nuzzling into their chest. “Face the consequences.”

They respond by pulling you into a tighter embrace, their arms enveloping you, and their chin finds a comfortable perch on the crown of your head. “Fine,” they mutter, the warmth of their breath brushing against your hair.

As the two of you engage in this intimate morning ritual, another head pops into view. With a bemused expression, she scrutinizes the scene, her presence intruding on the moment that might seem suspicious to any outside observer. Her eyes, filled with curiosity, take in the details of the shared embrace, brimming in a playful curiosity.

"Minji, you're suffocating her.”

“I'm not…” Minji growls, her voice weak and sluggish.

“Maybe a little,” you manage to squeak, though the amusement in your tone is evident.

Finally, Minji releases you, her fingers gently loosening their grip, and she chooses to bury herself underneath the covers in a futile attempt to shield herself from the intrusion of the morning light. The soft rustling of blankets marks the end of the embrace, and you feel the lingering warmth on your skin as she seeks refuge from the brightness. Turning your attention to your savior, Gyuri, you find her already poised and ready to embrace the day. She stands with a graceful confidence, her attire impeccable and thoughtfully chosen for the day ahead. The morning sunlight catches the subtle details of her outfit, casting a gentle glow on her figure.

“Thank you.” You said with a voice devoid of consciousness.

“We can’t begin our morning with manslaughter,” Gyuri responds with a chuckle, her tone retaining its bubbly and inviting quality.

Sweeping the room with a more deliberate scrutiny, your discerning gaze catches a subtle irregularity. "We're short one."

“Breakfast served for my lovely ladies.”

Haru makes her presence known along a tray full of breakfast painted in shades of red and pink. From eggs to ham, and scones to her specialty pancakes, glistening in the honey gloss of the syrup and valentine sprinkles topping it all off. A grin stretches across your face as you're drawn in by the irresistible aroma, prompting you to join in and assist your friend in the pleasant surprise.

“Haru, you shouldn’t have,” you gush.

“Can't have our Galentine weekend without heart-shaped pancakes. Or bacon.”

“I’m up,” Minji stirs from her slumber, immediately alert at the mention of her favorite morning food.

A burst of excitement surged through the group as you and your friends hurriedly converged, exchanging laughter and animated banter. The anticipation of the upcoming meal heightened as each of you took turns crafting plates, carefully selecting and arranging a delectable array of food to share in bed. The air buzzed with a vibrant energy, a communal spirit filling the space as the aroma of the feast enveloped everyone. It starts your morning off right.

Since the fiasco that was ‘Choi Seungcheol must die,’ your public persona has evolved significantly from being labeled as the girl who supposedly shattered the campus heartthrob's—well—heart to normal girl once again. While a handful may still harbor disdain, you've garnered admiration from many others, including the lovely ladies seated around you sharing a meal. Despite have all dated the same man at least once, you've managed to forge genuine connections, finding common ground and shared interests that transcend your ex.

Basking in the sisterhood of this unique friend group proved to be a breath of fresh air. The unwavering support from these like-minded women has become a source of comfort, and you find yourself smiling at the regularity with which their presence graces your life.

"Oh," Gyuri polishes off the last bite of her syrup-soaked pancake and casually drops the bomb, "We should go to the Valentine fair in town. It’ll be cute and fun. All of the guys would be there too.”

“Will Mingyu be there?” Minji muses, a sly grin curling her lips.

“Minji, really?”

Minji playfully waves her fingers over her face, emphasizing the importance of facial features. “I’m just saying, good looks run in your family. Didn’t stop at you or your fine ass brother.”

Gyuri rolls her eyes. “Gross.”

“Come on, I deserve a chance. Y/n did.”

“Pardon,” you ask with a mouthful of eggs. You swallow the remaining food, thanking Gyuri, who wipes food from the corner of your lips.

"Yeah, the gorgeous guy you rejected, who's still holding onto feelings for you, along with my little brother, by the way. It’s about time he has someone new to look at and I can be that someone. If only his thoughtful little sister would steer him my way."

Gyuri lightly nudges the girl, nearly knocking off her glasses before he regains her posture. “I am not setting you two up. You both annoy me enough as is. I can’t imagine what’d happen if you were together.”

“You hate me. Just say that.”

“Minji…” Gyuri warns. “You know that’s not true.”

“Gyuri hates me,” Minji whines shedding fake tears. “She despises the potential of me being a sister-in-law.”

The youngest in the group, Gyuri sighs, shaking her head as though unimpressed by the antics of her older friend who lacks the mental maturity expected of her age. Her expression hints at a weariness, a silent playful disapproval of Minji’s snarky attitude, exhibiting a wisdom that belies her youth.

The collective smiles from you and the rest of the women in the room signal another good day, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

The air carries a crispness that beckons to be inhaled, immersing you in the delightful blend of the sweetest aroma from freshly baked goods and the rich fragrance of the hottest, freshly brewed espresso. You're glad to have join in on the festivities, rest assured that you’d have company, even if that company included a couple.

Minji playfully feigns distaste. "Come on, Haru, it's Galentine's, and you bring your fiancé?"

Haru casually strolls alongside your group of friends, hand in hand with Junhui, who recently earned himself and Haru a newly coined label. She grips his hand just a little tight as her other arms clasped over his bicep. “But he’s such cute eye candy, plus I know he's been dying to come to this festival too.”

The fact that they got together no longer bothers you; in fact, you've come to realize it's for the better that they did. They couldn't be more perfect for each other, and the warmth of their connection is evident. As you reflect on the realization that a romantic relationship with Junhui was never in the cards for you, you find yourself smiling now. Despite your initial feelings, you're genuinely happy he found someone who loves him enough to commit to marriage. You weren’t so sure if you could’ve filled such shoes had it been you.

The grown man sticks out his tongue and Minji returns the gestures, tugging you and Gyuri by her side just as tight. “You two would never betray me for a man.”

"No, but you'd make an exception for a Mingyu," Gyuri points out, a fact made evident from this morning. "Speaking of which…"

Your attention is drawn to the lanky figure making his way toward you. His face lights up with a warm smile, and his arms open wide and inviting. "Guys!" he calls out enthusiastically, his expression and body language eager to greet his dearest friends.

"Mingyu!" Minji exclaims, wasting no time as she runs into his arms, momentarily startling him before he warmly reciprocates her embrace. "It’s nice to see you, Minji. I’m sure Seokmin is here somewhere."

She scoffs, clutching tighter. "I didn’t ask."

He chuckles, gently patting her on the back until she releases him. "You all look beautiful today, especially my darling sister," he says, pulling Gyuri into the tightest of embraces.

"Stop," Gyuri protests, pushing him away. "You'll ruin the hair."

“Spoiled as ever. So what do you guys wanna do first?”

The question appears to be a general inquiry, but you can't help but notice the glance thrown in your direction, almost as if he's anticipating your response. You simply shrug, mumbling a "not sure" under your breath. He hums, conjuring an idea while everyone else discusses possible plans.

"Well, if it helps, maybe there are a couple of things I thought we could consider doing."

“A haunted house? On Valentine’s day?”

“Don’t you know couples love scary movies?” Mingyu responds to Haru's question with a playful counter.  “You and Jun can go, and then–”

“Me and Mingyu!” Minji chimes in, taking his arm.

Mingyu politely smiles. “We could do that, or,” he takes you with his other arm, “We can come as a party. Use it as a test of courage.”

“A test?” Gyuri inquires with a taunting grin. “A test where you scream like a little girl and you get hurt because it’s too dark inside?”

Mingyu shoots a momentary glare at his sister, the edges softened by a hint of amusement, before his eyes shift into a silent plea. "Who knows? Perhaps amidst the chills of the show, you might accidentally find a guy you're meant to be with," he suggests, a playful yet hopeful undertone in his words.

“I’ve already met my guy,” Minji says. “But if it’s what Mingyu wants, we should go.” Her gaze shifts to the already-established couple. “Mom and dad first.”

“Minji, you’re older than me,” Haru states matter of fact.

“Until you break the engagement, you’re mom and dad.”

You proceed in the designated order, walking behind the couple as they lead the way into the haunted house. The remaining four of you huddle closely, a tightly-knit. You find yourself positioned at the edge, where the suspenseful anticipation of what lies ahead intensifies as you step into the dimly lit entrance of the eerie attraction. The air is thick with harmonious trepidation and the fear of unknowing, anticipating every possible jumpscare.

Mingyu, the largest of the group, ironically turns out to be the biggest scaredy-cat among you. Just as his sister predicted.

“What’s that?” he would shout. “He’s gonna jump out—damn, why did that look so real? OK—WHO OR WHAT TOUCHED ME?”

Before long, he starts darting off on his own, but Minji makes sure to hastily follow behind. Meanwhile, Gyuri vanishes amid her brother's episode, somehow amplifying the fear as he frantically searches for her. You attempt to keep up as best as you can, but your best falls short when you find yourself alone, struggling to locate even the exit.

"Uh, guys?"

You don’t know how you managed to do it, but there you were, standing frozen in the dimly lit corridors of the poorly made haunted house, a chill creeping down your spine. The creaking wooden floorboards and flickering lights creates an eerie enough atmosphere to make you wish you hadn’t made fun of it earlier. The playful screams and laughter of your friends now feels distant as an unfamiliar unease settles over you, turning what was supposed to be a casual haunt into a genuinely unsettling experience.

A split second later, a masked volunteer leaps out, causing you to stumble backward and collide with the person who materializes behind you—a solid, firm chest greeting you. Swiftly apologizing, you turn your head, locking eyes with the unexpected stranger. It takes a moment to register, but disbelief gives way to recognition as he smiles. His complexion, illuminated by the inconsistent lighting, exudes a radiance that you find oddly captivating.

Impulsively, you clutch at the fabric of his clothes, pulling yourself closer. "How are you here right now? You're supposed to be studying Europe."

Chan, a welcome sight, continues to smile warmly as he assists in guiding you out of the haunted house, his presence a comforting contrast to the lingering shadows and cheap Halloween supplies.

“We finished early about a week ago. I wanted to be a surprise.”

While you spent the remainder of your college years at the local university, Chan chose to venture abroad, a decision made in the aftermath of the Seungcheol incident. A clear sense of satisfaction is evident on his face as you take your time retracing the features of his face that have now matured in your time apart. 

“Oh my god, how are you? How was Italy? You look… amazing.”

He chuckles at your ceaseless chatter, intertwining arms with you along the entire path. “I'm well, still adjusting to the time difference. Italy was filled with great food, great wine, but, sadly, no you. I made do, though.”

You playfully elbow him, unable to contain the smile spreading across your face. “You never stop. God, the others will be so happy to see you!”

Upon reaching the exit, Chan, with a playful glint in his eye, deftly guides you around a concealed corner. The mischievous grin on his face deepens, and he suggests, "I have a better idea: we meet them later after you and I have a chance to catch up.”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST Y/N?” Seokmin's voice echoes through the chaotic atmosphere, laced with a touch of frustration.

"Go, go, go." Chan, immediately recognizing the urgency, deftly propels you forward, skillfully navigating through the crowd. With a sense of urgency, he guides you towards more private quarters.  

“I can't believe Seungcheol's a dad now. A lot happens in a year,” you remark, savoring the indulgence of your double scoop brownie delight, the rich chocolate flavors mingling with the conversation, as you relaxed by the campus’s lake side.

Chan kitten licks his mint chocolate cone, savoring a sweet taste that he misses so much.“Yeah. I’m an actual uncle. It’s weird, but parenthood has done him a lot of good. He’s a lot different than he was back then.”

“How's he managing it all? Girlfriend in the picture, I'm guessing?”

He shrugs. “They're giving it a shot. Seems like she'll stick around, and Cheol might too. I've never seen him look at a girl the way he looks at his own daughter. They all look happy together. She’ll keep him grounded.”

“Now he’ll start defending his daughter from guys like him when she gets to his age one day. Cosmic Karma.”

Chan chuckles. “He better or I'm stealing her away and raising her myself.”

“So, how’s it been for you? What’s Italian Chan like?” you inquire humorously, reaching the sweet waffle cone.

“Still Chan. Just know the difference in wine now and why pasta should never be broken in half.”

You take a deep breath, mustering the strength to voice the question that has been swirling in your mind. The weight of the inquiry presses against your chest, and you can't help but wonder how much this very question has occupied your thoughts. Finally, you manage to ask, "Anyone special to you?"

He glances at you thoughtfully, smiling as he let out small bittersweet sigh. “There was...but I let her go. I tried dating while I was in Italy, no one right for me though.”

“Hmm.”

As you mull over his words, Chan's eyes drift into the realms of distant memories, a wistful gaze reflecting the moments he reluctantly left behind, “What about you? I can’t help but overhear you tried it out with Seungkwan while I was gone.”

You chuckle, the memory painting a genuine smile across your face. “And boy, was that awkward. We only stood a chance as friends. My dating life hadn’t been much of anything these days.”

A familiar glint dances in his eyes as he indulges in his ice cream. “I see.”

“Don’t go looking too happy.”

“What? I’m devastated. My OTP.”

You laugh, lightly shoving him, remembering how much he really did make you laugh. There wasn’t a person that made laugh the way he did. “Shut up.”

“So…no one special for you either, hmm?”

You meet his gaze, a flicker of earnest crossing your expression before you shake your head. “No.”

Silence settles between you, a moment pregnant with unspoken thoughts and emotions. When your ice cream is gone, your hand itches for something else to hold. The air becomes charged with a quiet wonder, both of you reminiscing in the shared moments—the sleepovers, the messages between lines that you told one another. There’s peace in this space you share, as well as bitterness in the possibility that has yet to arise.

“Do you remember what we said, after that third night straight you slept over at my place?”

Your mind drifts back to that moment. The air was filled with the aroma of fried chicken for dinner, and Chan had effortlessly polished off five beers. It was one of those nights you wished could last forever, where the outside world faded into the background, leaving only Chan in its wake. “Not sure,” you respond.

“Right people, wrong time,” he repeats. “That we would’ve probably gotten along a lot better if we met under different circumstances. If it wasn't for what I was going through or what you were going through, we might’ve been right together.”

Your cheeks flush, and you internally curse yourself for momentarily forgetting. It was one of the most intimate moments you've ever shared, and surprisingly, sex wasn't even involved. Despite all the heartfelt words exchanged in that moment of vulnerability, you had half-expected him to have forgotten about it by now. “What about it?” you inquire, trying to keep your composure amidst the resurfacing emotions.

He leans in, licking evidence of dessert off his fingers. “I thought about that a lot when I was away. How we worked together was great. How you made hours pass by like minutes, minutes like seconds.” 

“You thought about me, hmm?” You tease.

“I was in the most romantic city in the world and all I could think about was how you’d love it here, so yeah. I thought about how better it would’ve been with you even if I knew you’d wretch at the smell of squid form the squid ink pasta.”

As Chan speaks, you notice the subtle shifts in his expression, the glimmers of nostalgia and contemplation in his eyes. A moment of quiet lingers between you, the unspoken acknowledgment of what could have been. The weight of untold emotions hangs in the air, and you attempt to break that down.

“...You would’ve tried forcing that into me.”

His laughter feels like medicine for longing. “Maybe I would’ve.”

“Why are you bringing all this up to me? Professing your love, huh, Lee Chan?” you challenge.

“And if I am?”

“Chan…we shouldn’t.”

His eyes dim, appearing as if he expected this response yet still disappointed. “Why not…”

“We said why–”

“Because we were both vulnerable? Fragile? Susceptible to hurting each other because we were interested in other people. Y/n, I haven't thought about Haru since I saw her here at this festival because all I could think about is you.” As the words linger in the air, Chan's admission leaves a charged energy between you. The festival surroundings seem to fade into the background as the unspoken tension and emotions build.

Your hands bunch up your pants at the knees, and you pull yourself up from the grass. “Chan…”

He follows, determined to stay by you. “We’re not who we were a year ago. There’s nothing else holding us back. Not our friends. Not my brother. Not any unrequited feelings. Just me and you.”

You've pondered this ever since you realized your feelings, sometime after he left. How you'd long at him, how he looked at you. Whether he still had feelings for Haru or if he somehow harbored interest in you. Or course, you wanted this but was any time the right time? “...Right people.”

“Wrong time, but that’s not the case anymore,” he steps closer, his presence enveloping you, and he cups your face in his hands. The warmth of his touch is both comforting and electrifying. “I want to try it with you because, knowing you, we work damn well together. We deserve that. We deserve this more than anyone.”

You shake your head, recognizing the stolen quote. Lips stretched over your face, and you take half a step closer. “Screw you.”

Not giving him the chance to react, you capture his lips instead, savoring the familiarity. The the soft rustle of the wintertime breeze and the distant of other people only served itself as background that becomes te white space on now your vividly painted canvas. In that stolen moment, the world narrows down to the warmth of the kiss, an electric charge passing between you and Chan, and longing grip of his hands claiming your body. Each second is written meticulously into a story that you both finally decide to explore, the delay only proving that all had been worth the wait.