#i will eventually share pictures of my first bind too

[lenakluthor]

remember when i mentioned i’d taken up bookbinding? well, i finished binding people will say we’re in love by @takethegrasskara and i’m so happy with how it turned out, i wanted to show off a little. i wasn’t sure i’d be able to pull it off, since it’s significantly longer than my first attempt at binding, but honestly? i’m obsessed. and now one of my favorite fics gets to live on my bookshelf forever!

[blueparadis]

꒰ WHEN WE COLLIDED ꒱ ⋮ RAN HITANI.

───❪ SYNOPSIS ❫ ⋮ A decision always changes the course of one's life but mainly it affects just one person, the one who takes the decision. However, an accident doesn't, it affects more than one person. Ran seems to believe he can have both in his favor if he plays his cards at the right time.

───❪ TAGS ❫ ⋮ MDNI, 18+ & M RATING.

(sub!)ran haitani x (switch!)fem!reader, one sided pinning, manipulation, death via accident ( MCD ), fruity!ran agenda, yandere themes, mention of implied cheating, domestic violence ( not by ran ), bad marriage,slow burn, eventual smut.

───❪ PLAYLIST ❫ ⋮ stay by stephan, too close by sir chloe, million dollar man by lana del rey, i am the dog by sir chloe, me and my husband by mitski, movement by hozier, don't you know by james young, do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, sex with a ghost by teddy hyde, stuck on a puzzle alex turner, cherry waves by deftones, the witch by Rosenfeld & khemis.

part one.

summary: The monotony in the life of Ran Haitani has a flicker of excitement. It turns up for a second and then goes out. But, for a hungry animal to denounce the prey, even if it is a slice is nothing but a mockery of the ways of nature. word count —2,5k.

part two.

summary: Ran starts to gather pieces of his puzzle even barely has any piece of it, he could see a glimpse of the final picture. He has never been taught not to play with his food when he was a child and he never did unless the food feels stale and tasteless on his tongue. word count — 2,6k.

part three.

summary: Ran's heart starts to unwind, starts to overlook all the possibilities of obstacles he might face to have you. With his heart in a bind, he starts to seek ways to connect, ways to have you, see you, taste you, feel you. word count — 1,6k.

part four.

summary: There is a jinx that Ran heard when he was eight years old, from his nanny. "You lose the people with whom you share your handkerchief." Now, he is not much of a superstitious person but when he saw his favorite handkerchief in the fist of his father who was intimately clung by his mother in the newspaper picture, he started to believe; he started to experiment word count —1,1k.

part five.

summary: It has been almost half of another month since his last encounter with you. Ran has thought of his second encounter with you way too many times that it lies heavy on his eyelids, on his fingertips, creating goosebumps on his skin. It tingles his soul. He replays that particular memory in a loop until he gets drunk on it, until he gets what he is promised. word count —0.7k.

part six.

summary ~ to be updated soon.

───❪ NOTES❫ ⋮ read on ao3.

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dividers by @benkeibear. banner art by me. for better quality you need to view the image seperately.

This is for my beloved dawnie. @lalunanymph . ( kindly check her rules if you wish to read her works. )

Dawn baby, I have read your works when I'm happy, when I'm sad, when I'm angry, and whenever I missed you. I have kept coming back to read your works, again and again, especially during my exam season. And one day I reaslized that you and your writing has become an integral part of my Tumblr. Not only that, it has also shaped my writing and reading experience. Needless to say dawnie baby that I admire you a lot. So, this is a little gift from me to you for creating such a brilliantly bright trajectory in my writing journey. Tokyo Revengers has always been my staple fandom. Even being a multifandom blog it is the tokyo revengers’ masterlists which is most stacked. At first I thought I should write on Kakucho for you but didn't feel confident about it so I went with Ran Haitani. This is probably the third long fic on him and second series work. I don't generally write on my favs because I don't know what to write and how to write. It is always a struggle but I hope this scratches the right parts of your brain. Take your time, read it in a one fine afternoon all of a sudden or somewhere in next million years. I'm not in rush :’))

Love you,

paradis.

[mommieswithmuscles]

Photographer!Abby x Scrapbooker!Reader

Free Palestine, don't support Neil

No minors and No men

CW: fluff, angst, no smut but it has a suggestive scene, insecure!reader, mention of suicidal tendencies

Based on this song:

Title: No Flash Photography

You're at the dinner table, going through photos Abby had printed out. She reprinted everything so you could have a copy to put in the ever growing scrapbook you have yet to properly bind.

Each bin she gave you had a title so you could organize better. Nature, gatherings, events, us, and polaroids. You start with the one called nature.

You trim the edges with scissors before securing them in the special photo paper with bug stickers. The dual page is a collage of your trip to a national park. It's mostly shrubbery, plants, trees, and water, but there are some animals and insects sprinkled in.

You turn the page and make another collage out of the open space, both sides decorated with a yarn trim. Gatherings weren't really your thing, but Abby liked them, and you obviously like Abby, so you go to each one. You admire how she always brings her big camera.

The next collage is your brother's wedding. Him and his partner are dressed accordingly. You wore basic attire, Abby wore a plain suit. "When are you both getting married?" He had asked after Abby's camera shot the photo.

"Eventually," Abby answered for you both. You nodded in agreement. You knew you underdressed to match the other guests, but you couldn't help but feel you're taking away from the newlyweds. Abby caught onto your dismissive behavior and took you home early.

Shaking your head to clear out the memory, you continue to dig through the bin and retrieve more pictures. A few birthday parties, a couple engagement parties, some random game nights. You secure them with glitter glue, putting more of the colorful yarn around the trims like LEDs.

Pictures of you always have to have Abby. Otherwise you want nothing to do with them and tend to throw them away. Abby's trying to help you with your insecurity, but for some reason you can't work past it. You sigh, pulling out ones you convince yourself you like. Mostly dates, but a few random ones from trips catch your attention, so you add them. The pictures are secured with affirmation stickers that Abby bought you a few months back, when you first started scrapbooking.

The bin you were most nervous for was polaroids. You know they're mostly you, and you know they make Abby happy, but... you get upset every time you look at pictures of yourself.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Abby sits next to you, done with her work for the week. She came out of her office as soon as she was able to. Her hand cups your cheek, thumb ready to swipe away the unshed tears.

"I can't do it. I fucking- I can't, Abby. It's too hard." You kick the bin.

"Why don't I help you?" She presses her lips to your forehead. "We can start with holidays. Would that work?"

"Do it yourself," you bite.

"Don't start that. I know you're upset. I know these make you upset-"

"So why do you make me look at them? I told you that you could keep them, and now-" you gesture to the bin. "We don't need to share everything, especially not these."

"I make you look at them because I'm trying to show you what I see." She's patient. Too patient. Maybe if she could ever be mad at you, or fight with you instead of talk things out, maybe it would hurt less.

The thoughts start to spiral before you can stop them. All of the self worth and self esteem you had built towards crumbling in seconds. And there's Abby, taking care of you because you can't handle something as stupid as putting pictures in a book. Maybe you were better off-

"Eyes on me baby," her voice is gentle. Her hands guide you to face her, thumbs taking away the tears trailing down your cheeks. "That's my girl," she whispers. "You're so kind, and beautiful, and I love you more than anything. I'm glad you came into my life because you're the compass to my map. I wouldn't have it any other way. I've never been more happy than when I've been with you. I married you because you're my person. You're the moon to my stars, the sun for my flowers, and every breath I take with you fills my lungs with fresh air. I know you're in a darker place. And that's ok. We can work you through it step by step." She pulls you into her lap, rubbing your back as you bury yourself in her neck. You can smell your perfume on her. "You're safe, you're loved, you're home." Abby kisses your temple.

After you calm down, Abby lets you go. "Thank you," you sniffle, getting up to grab some tissues.

"Anything for you, my love." You get back to see Abby gluing small, flat, silver tack backs on the polaroids to secure them on the page. It looks like a cork board. Some of the photos are strung on yarn, some singles floating about, and one standing out the most. It's one of you genuinely smiling, tugging Abby along as you make your way to your destination.

"Come on, it's this way!" You had said, nearly dragging Abby through the mud. She's laughing behind you, scooping you up and kissing you once you got to the surprise spot at the creek. She kept her hands under your thighs when your legs wrapped around her waist.

"This view is almost as stunning as you are," Abby said as she put you down.

"Oh hush," you pushed her away lightly. "Ass-kisser."

"No, no, you don't know," she shook her head, voice mocking. She laid with you in the short grass, dirt dry under your backs. You initiated the contact, but she kissed you first, hands traveled along your body until you were gasping for air and begging for her.

"Baby? Where'd you go just now?" Abby's fingers tickle at your jaw as she cups your face.

"Here," you point at the picture you got lost in.

"I'm going to start dinner. Today seems like it was hard for you, and you could use some time away from the pictures for now. You- or we- can start back up soon, ok?"

"Ok," you agree easily. She's right. It's better to take a break, than let something be ruined.

[zhalfirin-binds]

Design inspiration  for my binding of  The fisherman’s favour  - written by Laura Simons and drawn by Débora Cabral

Just found some files I used for the fisherman’s favour and thought I’d share them to illuminate my approach on this one. It was the first and till now only time I have used a computer to make design choices (usually I just touch up the cover pictures, tweak their sizes to make them fit and that’s it)

I knew I wanted something resembling the sea and it’s depths and I knew what i wanted, but did you know those maps are called bathymetric maps or submarine contour maps? No? Me neither. Took me an embarrassing amount of time to find that out. 

Perhaps I could have drawn such a map myself, but to be honest, I don’t have much faith in my artistic skill so that was a no.

Most maps I found were either too simple or too complex though.

Or I simply found them not pleasing.  Personally I liked the idea of the sea just kind of coming in from the outside. but considering that this meant for the construction to either have a very thin front edge or a rather thin layer towards the spine I decided against it. 

Eventually I found in a topographic map with a fjord-like shape and way more layers than I felt like cutting out by hand. (I believe that grove I had from my scalpel stayed with me for the next coulpe of hours.) I intended to stick to 4 layers in the beginning but that seemed somehow very flat so I ended up with 6.

[costellos]

anonymous said: i can’t choose so mamihlapinatapei or retrouvaille for nanamin? 💓

a/n: ooo! both very good choices!! I decided to go with mamihlapinatapei since I had an idea for it first. I also added Gojo to the mix because I’ve been craving a good love triangle, and this was the perfect opportunity to write that. I hope you don’t mind; thank you for the ask!

tw: mentions of blood and stitches in Nanami’s part.

ask game: one-word ideas for when you’re feeling stuck (closed!)

disclaimer: I’m anime-only, so apologies if my character interpretations aren’t accurate!

❥ ┋ ❝ gojo, nanami, & how you know they’re in love!

mamihlapinatapei (yagán, n.) - the wordless, meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something, but are both reluctant to do so.

gojo satoru.

to be honest, it’s hard to tell whether or not Gojo is romantically interested in you. he won’t treat you much differently if he’s pining for you. in fact, his constant attention isn’t far off from how he treats anyone else.

at least that’s how it starts. he’ll tease you and take your things to get your attention. but if you pay him mind, Gojo will escalate things in a much quieter way.

he invites you to spend time with him alone. it’s not that odd, it’s just a meeting between two colleagues. sometimes it’s to offer constructive criticism to your teaching methods, sometimes it’s because he stopped by the convenience store and the clerk “accidentally” gave him two custard buns. ↳ “by the way, what’s your favorite flavor? no reason, just curious!”

then it starts getting more intimate. he’s a pro at making things seem natural. before you know it, you’re sitting with him in his office playing shogi. although it comes off as a friendly game between two coworkers, Gojo’s using it as a way to understand what kind of person you are. will you sacrifice your pieces in a valiant effort to win? will you play strategically to minimize losses? how much do you think before every move?

he can immediately tell that Nanami is interested in you, too. it’s not hard to pick up. over ten years of working together have shown Gojo that his partner is awful at hiding his feelings. but besides that, why wouldn’t he like you?

he tries butting in between you and Nanami. it starts as a way to tease his colleague (and as a very tiny way of getting closer to you), but like everything about Gojo Satoru, it escalates to something bigger. because while it may not seem like he’s envious, Gojo is horribly envious of the time you spend with Nanami. ↳ “oi oi oi, what’s going on here? he’s not boring you, is he?”

most of that envy comes from being the most powerful sorcerer of his generation. for one thing, he has his own lofty goals to accomplish. for another, he’s responsible for mentoring the literal vessel of a murderous tyrant. there’s not a lot of time for Gojo Satoru to be a normal 20-something. and sometimes, he really hates that.

that’s why he’s continuously trying to maximize his time with you. inviting you to his office for a game of shogi, tagging along on your missions, interfering in your time with Nanami... it’s selfish sure, but can’t he have a moment to be selfish?

he realizes that you’re in love with him too while playing shogi. it’s shortly after 5 PM and you’re sitting in his office, playing shogi as you typically do. you make some comment about how the sun seems to be setting later and later, that you’re glad that spring is around the corner. it’s at that moment that Gojo looks up, ready to make some witty quip about your observation, when he just. stops. and looks at you. the sun casts a perfect gleam on your skin, hitting all his favorite parts of your face in a golden haze. your eyes reflect every bit of light, as if to cast the entirety of the sun back at him. you’re smiling. he always thought that romance movies were a bunch of mumbo jumbo. he never understood why Itadori seemed so into them, right behind action flicks. but sitting here, observing you, helps him understand them a little better. ↳ “hey, [Name]? let’s... let’s go do something. no, this isn’t an excuse to get out of the game. yeah — I know, you’re winning! that’s not the point, it’s, ah... I’m hungry. come on.”

nanami kento.

for as stoic as he comes off, Nanami is much more obvious with his feelings. he’s still cold, but something about the way he treats you is somehow... less icy.

one of the most apparent ways is how he reacts when Gojo’s around. Gojo butts into the limited time Nanami gets with you, and he does it a lot. he initially tolerated it to paint a better picture of himself (can’t make you think he’s that cold), but. it eventually came to be too much. Nanami started shooing his colleague away after that. ↳ “we’re talking. can this wait?”

he also starts doing more research before your missions. mind you, not missions that you’re teaming up with him on. your missions. he examines what kind of cursed spirit you’re up against, what pros / cons your environment can offer you, stuff like that.

but he’s not overbearing about it. he knows that you’re a capable sorcerer. he just likes to be prepared if, God forbid, something were to happen to you. ↳ “your binding vow might do well if you can bring the curse under the highway. something to consider.”

on that note, he tries bringing you as close to your missions as he can. he always tells Ijichi that he’s going in that direction anyway, that Nanami himself can drive you to wherever you’re going. if either of you protest, he’ll tell you both that it’s not an issue.

however, he won’t offer direct help unless you ask. if you do, he’ll pretend to check his phone calendar, click his tongue, and say he that can make time. (it doesn’t take long for you to notice that he can somehow always spare an hour for you.)

Nanami would never admit it, but he hates how easily Gojo can make you laugh. he hates when he passes by his colleague’s office, because you’re almost always there. and he hates that every time you’re with him, you’re smiling at Gojo the way Nanami wishes you would look at him. Nanami wants to make you laugh too, but he knows that’s just not who he is.

that’s why when he is with you, he tries showing you as much of himself as what’s appropriate. that doting concern before you go off on missions, that availability when you need help, that wit around Gojo  — all equally apart of him, all equally for you.

sure, these are actions that he would demonstrate in front of the kids, too. yet he wants to emphasize that he’s not as unfriendly as he comes off. that tenderness is there and you’ve found it; he’s just bad at demonstrating it outwardly.

he realizes that you’re in love with him too as you patch him up. he stops at the school shortly after his first encounter with Mahito. Itadori is back in the dorms safe and sound, Ijichi has already clocked out; he just needs to stop by Ieiri’s to patch up. but when he gets to her office, she’s already left for the night, too. that’s when he sees you in the corner of your eye. you see his blood-stained shirt. concern immediately floods your face, and a sort of dread fills Nanami’s. he can’t take an earful. not right now. but you don’t say anything. no, you just unlock Ieiri’s office, sit him down, and begin dressing the wound. you handle it so softly, careful not to hurt him more than he already is. and God, it’s such an odd time for him to realize that you’re in love with him. you’re giving him stiches, and when you look up, you flash him the dumbest, most beautiful smile he’s seen. you’re sweating and you’re just as exhausted as he is, yet here you are, smiling at him. ↳ “you don’t have to do this. but I’ll, ah... I’ll return the favor nonetheless. let’s go out sometime. no, not with the others, just... us.”

like this piece? here are some similar works! 🌑 🌒 🌓

[duuhrayliegh]

watch your six - part three

go check out watch your six on my profile! *in the process of making a m.list*

pairing: eventual bucky x reader (its a slow burn babes)

warnings: trigger warning of sedation? it’s not a there for long though, also language and some creepy activity by gomez, i think that’s it, lmk if i missed something :)

a/n: heeeyy babes… ik i promised this a way long time ago, but it’s here now! i got way behind with my classwork and the freaking texas freeze week didn’t help at allll, it’s fine, i’m fine, it’s on fire but it’s fine. 

p.s.: our darling buck makes come in next upload :) stick with me, i promise i’m getting there. 

series m.list

ray’s m.list

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

“Alright ladies, listen up.” A tall woman with a short brunette bob commanded. “Our target is one Louis Richardson.” A picture flashed on a screen behind the tall woman. “Richardson is a prominent leader in the Svengali. He’s one of the higher ups so we cannot mess this up, girls.” There was a click and then another picture floated onto the screen.

“He’s going to be attending a gala next week. Our intel leads us to believe that the Svengali is going to conduct a trade of information from Richardson to a carrier.” She moved from one side of the room to the other, catching all of our eyes. I glanced around the room, searching for something familiar.

“Hey, you alright?” The girl to my left whispered to me. “Libra, stop drifting.” My head snapped to the girl. Gemini? Isn’t she dead? Wait, where am I?

“Gemini! Libra! Have something you would like to share with the group?” The tall women challenged, we looked at each other and shook our heads, remaining quiet. “Alright, so we’re going to be sending quite a few of you in on this one. Leo, Virgo, and Scorpio you’re going to be on the gala floor. Mingling with guests and keeping the public under control. We don’t want this breaking out into a whole scandal, do we?” The heads of the women in front of me bobbed back and forth as a response of no. The tall woman proceeded to give out tasks.

“Libra, Gemini, Cancer, Taurus and Aries. You are Plan B. If this should go south, we have intelligence that gives us an idea on where one of the Svengali safe houses is located. The five of you will be laying in wait. Your mission, should it be needed, is strictly reconnaissance. You are under no circumstances to engage the target in anyway, do you understand?” We nodded and then the room was silent. The tall woman took a deep breath, leaned forward against one of the desks at the front.

“This is a very sensitive mission that they are trusting us to handle. We will do so much better than anyone else could.” She stood to her full height, “You all have your assignments, this is all going down next week. Be ready, ladies.” She bobbed her head and sent us on our way. Picking up the folder in front of me, I turned to Gemini.

“Can you believe that they gave us this assignment, Gem?” My mouth moved, but I had no control over it. What the hell is happening? Gemini laughed at me and clutched her own folder to her chest.

“Will you chill out, Libra? It’s just recon. It’s really not that big of a deal.” I stopped and gawked at her then heaved out a cackle. She walked ahead of me, shaking her head at my reaction.

“Not that big of a deal for you maybe.” I puffed out my chest, “It’s my first mission, remember?” My chest deflated and anxiety began to set in. “Oh my god, it’s my first mission.” Gemini turned to look at me with raised brows.

“Yeah, so?” She breathed a laugh, “You’re making a big deal out of nothing, Libby.” She grabbed my shoulders and pulled me along to our shared quarters. “Just remember to stay out of your head and get it done. You’ll be fine.” She giggled as she released her hold on me and plopped onto her bed. “Everything’s going to be a-okay, Libby.” I smiled at the nickname.

“You’re right, Gem. Let’s crush this mission.” I walked over to her bed and swatted her side, “Scoot over, you cow!” I grunted as I shoved her. She gasped, then after relenting she laughed as I landed face first into the mattress. We both melted into puddles of laughter and I felt a slow smile spread across my face.

“She’s smiling. Why is she doing that?” A rougher voice left Gemini’s mouth. I giggled and looked over at her.

“What did you say?”

“Gomez, if she’s smiling that means she’s happy.” Gemini’s mouth moved, but yet again it wasn’t her voice. I know that voice, where do I know that voice from? I lurched from my spot on the bed and glared at Gemini.

“What did you shove me off the bed for?” I questioned Gemini incredulously. Another jolt of energy bounced me on the ground. What is happening? My head hit the side of something hard, something that allowed enough spring that my head rebounded back into it again. I released a groan of pain and went to clutch the area. When I tried to raise one arm, but they were clasped together behind my back. Opening my eyes, blurry images roamed in front of me.

“Oh, she’s waking up.”

“Yes, that is right on time.”

“Waking up? We haven’t gotten to the rendezvous point yet.”

“Well with the dosage I administered, she should be coming out of it right about now.”

“Then up the dosage, Doc. I’m not about to deal with another whiner for the rest of this trip.”

“I can’t do that.”

“You what?” There was a run of indistinct murmurs exchanged between the two voices. My vision began to clear up. I cleared my throat, wincing at the pain when I coughed. Blinking rapidly, I tried to get my bearings. I was sat in the middle of the Doctor and Gomez, shoulders making contact with the both of them. My eyes roaming still, I landed on Gomez’s now bandaged cheek. I smirked and then huffed a laugh.

He glared at me, “You laughing at something, little girl?” I leaned away from him.

“Honestly, laughing at the fact that I was able to hurt you.” Speaking through the gag in my mouth. The speech was so muffled but the effect was there. Gomez didn’t break eye contact with me as he leaned in.

“Better watch what you say around me.” He threatened, “Someone might think you aren’t just a scared puppy.” I glared at the man, nostrils flaring in anger. I should head-butt him. Contemplating my next move, my eyes flicked across his face. He intimidated me, but I couldn’t let him know that.

“Gomez, what the hell are you doing?” Suits asked from the front passenger seat. Gomez’s eyeline never left mine as he answered.

“Just letting the little girl know her place.” Mass scoffed from the driver’s seat and my gaze darted to the rearview mirror. Waiting with bated breath as to what he was going to say. Nothing, he said nothing. Although Mass didn’t really need to say anything. He looked at Gomez with disgust and then rolled his eyes.

“You got a problem, big guy?” Gomez pushed. Suits grumbled, turning to look at Gomez.

“Just shut up, Gomez. You can use your immature intimidation tactics there. Just not in the car. You’re annoying the rest of us.” I had to stifle a laugh, which isn’t hard when you’re gagged. “Give the girl another dose, Doc.”

“Already on it.” Not having been paying attention to the doctor was a mistake. In the time that I was dealing with Gomez, the Doc began assembling and filling another syringe. The prick in my neck alerted me that it was too late. I slumped in my seat, lids drooping again. “It’ll be quicker this time, but the effect will last for a longer time.” I wasn’t sure if he was talking to me or to Suits. It didn’t matter at that point, I was gone.

Cold, brisk air glazed over my skin, snapping me to attention. The quick jerking motion caused an ache in my stiff, restrained muscles. I groaned which slowly morphed into a scream. “Help! Someone help me!” I screamed until my throat sore again. Raspy shouts left my vocal chords, but that didn’t stop me. Wobbling around in the chair in an attempt to loosen the binds around my body. “Let me out of here! You have no right to shut me in here!” I didn't sound like myself, my voice was so gravelly. I jumped away from the right side of the room when a rush of air burst into the room.

Suits walked in and tossed a manila folder onto the stainless countertop. He pulled the chair out from the other side of the table and sat with a sigh. As he relaxed back into the chair, he stared at my face before flipping open the folder. Thumbing through the pages, he glanced up at me every now and again. What the hell is he doing? What’s in that folder?

“Did you bring me here to kill me?” I inquired cautiously. There was a pause as my question hung in the air and then a short snort of a laugh.

“Now, why would I want that?” My nostrils flared and my pulse quickened. Suits smirked at me and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table in front of him. He glanced back down to the open folder before him. “How many missions did you participate in?” My heart stopped, what the hell is he talking about? Does he know about my dreams?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice wavered, it wasn’t a lie necessarily.

“I think you do and I don’t take too kindly to people who lie to me.”

“Well then we don’t have a problem because I’m not lying.” I wasn’t really, at least I don’t think it was. Suits chuckled, it was humorless, almost sarcastic.

“I’ll ask you one more time. How many missions did they send you on?” There was anger layering his words.

“I already told you,” I said exasperated. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Now let me go.” Suits snickered.

“Alright, fine then.” Suits left the room. The LED lights illuminating the room cut out as soon as the door closed. I shivered in anticipation, trying to figure out what was happening. The temperature seemed to drop as my anxiety increased. My head fell forwards to rest my chin against my chest, deep breaths causing my whole body to rise and fall in time. I don’t know how long they left me there. Time seemed to crawl, mocking me as it slunked by on its wheel. I desperately wanted to rack my fingers through my hair and pull until this whole situation made sense. My brain felt fried and I couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Lifting my head I became aware of the sore crick at the base of it. I sighed heavily, how am I  going to get out of this one? As far back as I can remember, I haven’t done anything to anyone. No instances came to mind that would give someone, much less the government, to come kidnap me and chain me to a chair.

The door swung open and banged against the white wall. A surly, imposing man stared at me with an intimidating expression on his face. The lower half of his face was covered in a layer of stubble, thick, sculpted eyebrows gave way to deep honey eyes. Who the hell is this guy? He stalked around the table and the chair that I was confined to. My head jerked to follow his movements, I didn’t catch a good vibe from this one. Have I gotten a good vibe from anyone recently, though? I mean Suits wasn’t terrible, but he did kidnap me. I was rushed back to reality by the brush of the man’s hand through my hair, sweeping it off my shoulder. Without moving, I glared at the man through my lashes.

“What the hell do you think that you’re doing?”

“I’m here to ask you a couple questions.” He announced, his voice filling the room. My shoulders drooped, this is going to be a long day.

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

[ageofevermore]

Unsaid Emily

SUMMARY — and maybe it was the midnight ink on her wrist that tied her to him

WORD COUNT — 1.7k

───── ･ ｡ﾟ☆ﾟ: *. ☽ .* : ☆ﾟ. ─────

They had said goodbye to a child eight years before welcoming the second with shocked and scared hearts. They had promised to do things differently -- to like whatever she liked, watch whatever she watched, and love whatever she loved. They drew no boundary at personal belief when it came to this second child that shadowed the life of Luke, but they made no attempts to forgive and mend the empty spaces in their hearts where they had already done this. They had already gone through first steps, words, and heartbreaks. They had captured Luke’s seventeen years of life in their memory so perfectly watching hers felt faulty. They tried with everything they had to love her as they never loved Luke, but somehow that caused even more of a divide as everything was reminiscent of the deceased first born brunette. 

She had been away at school when his birthday rolled around; for the first time in her seventeen years of pitiful existence she didn’t blow out the candles on a stale chocolate cake. She spent the day away from stories of her brother, and instead  spent it knowing somewhere in the universe he wasn’t being smothered by Mitch and Emily’s persistent opinions. She couldn’t outrun home forever though. An amazing music program in Santa Monica pulled her away from LA for most weeks out of the year, but her mother was persistent that she abandon the dorms and visit home every so often. It was that fear of Luke again. He had instilled so many traumas that even trust with her was unruly and weak. 

She heard the doorbell ring as she was unpacking her pile of homework, the weekend away from school meaning nothing for the multiple classes she was taking weekly. Though the private boarding school was diverse in the makeup of their structured courses, she was still on a tightly wound schedule with instrumental practice and vocals along with mandatory academics like calculus. She hates calculus. She had only started around the corner because she heard the sound of her brother's name roll off of a stranger's tongue. The defined L sound was unmistakable, and partnered with the topic of music, the correlation was undeniable. 

“Yeah. That’s Luke, when he was two.” Mitch explained the picture between the girls grasp, eyes growing damp at the topic of his greatest failure as a parent. Luke was his perfect gift. 

“Do you have any other children?” The girl asked, gently setting the picture frame down and bringing her chocolate eyes up to Mitch’s. The gentleness of her expressions were weighing heavy on the hearts of a family that lived with the memory of Luke on their mind daily. Even with the retelling of his story the only fragment of his existence that she knew, hearing these words hurt.

“A daughter. Lily.” Mitch looked just behind the guest, eyes trailing over his daughter that shared the same midnight toned hair and hard blue eyes as his Luke once had. She stepped past the threshold connecting the foyer to the living room, ignoring the butterflies that spread through her stomach at a certain point across the hardwood. 

“I’m Lily.” She smiled tightly at the girl, hand extended in a polite greeting that was in no way authentic. Her heart was beating her ears, palms collecting sweat at the idea of knowing Luke from somebody else's perspective. 

“Julie.”  The two smiled at each other, both looking equally displaced despite this being Lily’s house, and having been Julie’s personal decision to come. Luke just had that effect on people. His memory made you hurt so deeply that anything other than crying felt wrong. 

“Did I hear the doorbell?” Emily asked, hand softly brushing against Lily’s back. Emily hadn’t even flinched when her child pulled away from the embrace, just accepted what had become routine since implementing the memory and the love of Luke. In remembering one child Mitch and Emily had completely pushed away the other. 

“Mom, this is Julie.” Lily introduced the two, her eyes wandering around the space that suddenly felt so full. She had stood in this same living room for seventeen years prior to the current evening and never had she got the sense of being complete. 

“Hello, Julie.” Emily smiled, looking over the girl standing in their living room with nothing more than a name to her purpose. “Oh, that’s a beautiful sweater.” 

She had never heard her mother speak so freely kindly towards others' clothing. She had woken the same morning, expecting the looks of judgement and unwarranted warnings that band-tees and vans had been the very wardrobe to have taken Luke’s life. 

When she had gotten Sunset Curve tattooed to the flesh of her wrist, binding her life to her brother's memory, they had gone mental. It had been tears of disappointment and pain at the foundation of an argument. They had come around eventually, but only off of the premise that they didn’t want to drive Lily away and watch her face death like Luke did. 

“Thanks. It’s my moms.” Julie looked down at her sweater, fingers softly brushing along the knitted material. By the solemn expression in her eyes, Lily knew that death had been upon her. Nobody bore such a heavy gleam without the persuading of trauma and grief. 

“Julie lives in the house where Luke and the band rehearsed. She was just telling me she found a song that Luke wrote.” Mitch looked down at Julie, all while Lily couldn’t shake the feeling of eyes on her. Looking around the room again, her heart jumped painfully in her chest at the orb of afterlife reflecting from the sun just behind Julie. As she stared into the rainbow colors of the orb, she couldn’t help but feel as though a set of eyes was sharing the encounter with her. 

Blinking away the delusion, Lily’s thumb traced the tattoo on her wrist, her eyes welling with tears. She might have rivaled a ghost all of her childhood, but she missed the soft and tender memories of her brother she didn’t have the heart to relearn. She could love him with everything she had, but never would see ask her parents about his short lived life. 

“It’s a song about a girl named Emily?” 

A tear fell from Lily’s eyes, while warm pools of grief framed the waterline of her blue optics, threatening to spill over at any second. She traced the spot where the orb of afterlife had once floated above the air with streaks of rainbow, but the sun had moved away and stopped casting a spotlight on the space. 

“Emily…” Mitch whispered into the open air of the space, eyes glazing over as he looked down to his wife that had beared two children and loved the first more than anything worldly. “I’m Emily.” She pleaded, although neither she nor Julie knew what she was asking for with her desperation soaked tone. 

“Then I think your son may have written a song for you.” Julie handed over the old and tattered piece of notebook paper that bore the same handwriting as all of Luke’s journals still stashed away in the attic. The same handwriting that lived permanently on her wrist, taking the shape of what his dream had once been. 

“First things first, we start the scene in reverse.” Lily had to shake the thought of music out of her focus, her body so heavily convinced that somewhere in the depths of her home a song was playing softly. The dimension of the vocals she heard was unlike any streaming platform ability, making her wonder if her mother had broken into the vinyls again. 

“All of the lines rehearsed disappeared from my mind when things got loud. One of us running out, I should've turned around, but I had too much pride. No time for goodbyes, didn't get to apologize, pieces of a clock that lies broken. If I could take us back, if I could just do that and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. Silent days, mysteries and mistakes. Who'd be the first to break? I guess we're alike that way. He said, she said, conversations in my head, and that's just where they're gonna stay forever.” 

It was a ringing between her ears that brought the delusion to a standstill. As her fingers curl around her wrist as if to physically grab the midnight ink, the whisper of a voice in her focus becomes too prominent to ignore. 

“If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace. Then maybe time would not erase me, if you could only know I never let you go, and the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily. If I could take us back, if I could just do that, and write in every empty space the words ‘I love you’ in replace, then maybe time would not erase me. If you could only know I never let you go.” She hears the words through herself so clearly, she’s certain the words she can practically feel are the same as what’s written on the page between her mother's fingertips. She doesn’t understand it, but somehow she knows. 

It’s him. Luke. Her big brother. 

Her wrist flashes hot for a second, startling her enough to abandon the tight locked gaze she has on the empty space behind Julie and look down at her reddening skin. “And the words I most regret are the ones I never meant to leave. Unsaid Emily.” 

A cold shock ran through her body in contrast to the searing hot pain circulating her wrist. She sniffled when the last sung Emily sounded through her body, the vibrato sounding so close to her it was paralyzing. When she found her bearings and the jelly like feeling in her legs dispersed to her heart, she looked back up at Julie.  

With one last fleeting glance towards the empty space behind Julie, the sight of a blue-eyed boy looking tearfully beyond herself, calmed the burn in her wrist. She made eye contact with the boy, a name fitting comfortably on her tongue despite the impossibility of it all. 

“Luke…” 

[starrynite7114]

Headcanon: Jealousy

A/N: Hello everyone! Hope the start of your week has been going well! Finally decided to do a headcanon. This is my first one, so I hope I did okay! This was really fun to do!

If you would like to make a headcanon request, please feel free to do so!

I have two more updates prepared, but I wanted to post this one first! 

Enjoy!

HC or Imagine of Angel and his S/O going to a club party and there's jealousy and drunkenness can be smutty and fluffy - @gemini0410​

Masterlist

Request list

tagged list: @justahopelessssromantic : @ifoundmyhappythought : @carlaangel86 : @marvelmaree : @woahitslucyylu : @encounterthepast : @enamoured-x : @whyisgmora : @briana-mishell24 : @bribri-82 : @briannab1234 : @chibsytelford : @agirllovespasta : @twistnet : @everyhowlmarksthedead : @trulysuccubus : @jadert15 : @sammskellington : @cind-in-real-life​ : @mheart27 : @claytoncardenasbabymama​ : @sadeyesgf​ : @thickemadame​ : @summertimesadnesswithadashofsass​ : @gemini0410​ : @elcococruz​ : @samcrobae​ : @sesamepancakes​ : @iambabyharry​ : @blackmissfrizzle​ : @soamayansfangirl​ : @1-800-imagines​ : @phoenixhalliwell​ : @lady-pswrld​ : @dazzledamazon​  : @getyourcrayoncas​ : @fvckthisbxtchup​ : @lukealvxz​ : @scuzmunkie​ : @nakusaych9​ : @danie1432​ : @cocotheclown​ : @soaronmywings​ : @my-rosegold-soul​ : @buttercup812​ : @itskiranbitch​ : @angelreyesgirl​ : @sheeshgivemeabreak​ : @vicmackeybullshxt​ : @bigcreatorwombatdreamer​ : @khyharah​ : @strawberrywritings​ : @cherry-icetea​ : @fuzzy-jellyfish​ : @losolvidad0s​ : @brownsugarcoffy​ : @courtrae89​

If you would like to be added to the tag list, let me know! <3

CREDIT TO THE ORIGINAL GIF MAKER!

Every club party, you were always right beside Angel. You were his fiancé after all, it was your rightful place.

Angel and you had a routine, if he drank one party, you drank at the next. Or basically one gets fucked up while the other got mildly fucked up.

But on the rare occasion you two came to a club party pissed off at one another, everyone was prepared for tempers to fly and for war.

You were level headed and Angel really had to try hard to get you riled up.

But Angel? 

Fucking forget about me.

Angel was a hot headed individual at baseline, but involve you? His fuse was shorter.

Which was why he was currently downing his third shot in the last thirty minutes.

“You want to slow down there brother?” Taza advised Angel as he downed his third shot in the last thirty minutes.

“Naw, I’m good.” Angel shook his head, watching as you took Riz around town at the pool table. You were ridiculously good at pool and it was the way Angel met you. Oddly enough, it wasn’t in Santo Padre. You two met in Los Angeles while he was hanging around Koreatown with Coco and Gilly. Gilly had a few cousins who lived around there and he decided to come with. 

You happened to be Gilly’s cousin and after that fateful night, you two were inseparable. It’s been six years and now, you two were engaged. Angel popped the question the day after your nursing school graduation and you couldn’t be any happier.

But even though you were engaged, Angel was a possessive man and he hated how these motherfuckers watched you, even Riz. 

He was his brother no doubt about that, but he knew that Riz tried to sway you his way before Angel ever came in the picture. 

To see you playfully laughing with him, it ticked Angel off.

Usually when you mess with Coco, Gilly, EZ and Creeper, Angel was cool.

But just the fact Riz even tried to get at you before, it just wasn’t cool with him.

He poured himself another shot, downing it once more. Taza watched Angel and just shook his head. “Don’t let jealousy consume you Angel, you don’t want an unnecessary fight with your girl.”

“Oh, I’m peachy, no fights whatsoever.” He requested for a beer, which EZ gave him with hesitance. “I’m fine.” Angel watched as Riz’s eyes drifted over to your ass as your dress slightly hiked up when you were making your shot. 

Angel could hold his alcohol, but taking shot after shot would eventually get to someone.

You saw the dark look on Angel’s face, the excitement running through your body was hard to ignore. 

You liked pushing Angel’s buttons for petty fights. After all, slow paced, sweet talking Angel making love to you was amazing, but pissed off, rough paced, dirty talking Angel was something fucking else.

It kept your sex life exciting. 

Besides, this all started because of how greatly your dress accentuated your assets.

“I thought I told you I don’t share,” he whispered into your ear as he took the pool cue from you.

The faint smell of alcohol on his breath.

Angel was bolder with liquid courage on him.

“Don’t recall that conversation.” You shrugged.

“Keep fucking with me and see what happens when I get you all alone.” Angel growled into your ear.

But you didn’t heed his warning.

After you beat Riz and he gave you a hug that lasted a little longer than Angel liked

Once Riz pulled away and was led away by another club hang around, Angel wrapped his arms around you from behind, nipping at your ear. “Daddy is about show you who this fucking pussy belongs to.”

Looking back at him, you saw the lust in Angel’s eyes.

You felt yourself become wet at that. 

You were in trouble.

Tears welled up in your eyes as Angel denied you from coming again. You were tied up, your hands resting on your stomach as Angel continued to lap at your folds, purposely passing your clit.

“Daddy, please, I’m sorry.” You cried out, trying your best to push his head away, but the restraints were preventing you. You laid on your bed, back arched.

“Look at you, acting like a little brat and now you’re trying to run from daddy.” He plunged his finger inside you once again, three fingers in. 

You moaned out his name, shaking your head back and forth, the familiar feeling in your abdomen has been stationary. 

“You wanna come princesa, you gonna be a good girl for daddy?” Angel slowed the pace of his finger, loving the feeling of your walls trying to suck in his fingers and how wet you were.

“Yes daddy, I’ll be a good girl.”

Angel smirked. He began to fuck you with his fingers in a come hither motion, your breathing was increasing, the fire pooling low in your abdomen was torturous, but Angel was going to let you come.

A few rubs on your clit had you crying out Angel’s name, tears streaming down your face due to the overstimulation. Angel gave your pussy good lick before he hovered over you, kissing you to show you how good you taste.

“You always taste so fucking good baby girl.”

You felt lightheaded, feeling as if you were in a daze. 

With your hands tied, all you could do was run your fingers through whatever was close by and it was Angel’s abs. Running your nails through your abdomen, letting out a whimper when you felt him rubbing the tip of his dick up and down your folds.

“Daddy, please,” you begged, tugging at your binds. “Please fuck me.”

Angel loved hearing you beg, it was one of his favorite sounds from you. 

“You were being such a bad girl earlier.” Angel slid the tip in, remaining stationary at your entrance. The thickness of his cock stretched your tight little hole as it always did, making you moan. You attempted to move, but Angel held you down.

“Are you going to listen to daddy?” He asked you, slamming his cock inside you before sliding back to his initial position.

You gasped as he had slammed into you, groaning in frustration.

“Are you mad baby? Just like how you tried to get daddy upset? You know how I don’t like to share.” He thrusted into you again, going back to his initial position. You clenched as he slipped out, making Angel groan. “You remember that conversation now?” Angel slowly moved in and out of you, his length stretching you in all the good ways, the familiar burn.

“Answer me.” He wrapped a hand around your throat, giving you a slight squeeze. 

“Yes daddy,” you whimpered.

“Mirame,” you opened your eyes, groaning at the sight of Angel. He was glistening with sweat, his muscles contracting as he began to speed up his pace. 

You began to clench around him, Angel was brushing against your g-spot, and you knew you were fucking close.

“I feel it baby, you’re close.”

And he was too, he was losing his rhythm, but he still kept hitting that spot, making your eyes roll back as you came, crying out Angel’s name in pure pleasure.

“That’s mi princesa, fuck.” He buried himself in you, your walls milking his cock. “Baby, fuck, you’re just milking daddy’s cock.”

You didn’t say anything, just pulling Angel down to meet your lips.

Pinning your hands on either side of your head, he hovered over you, loving the look you had after you came undone for him.

The swollen lips.

The red shade on your cheeks.

The sweat glistening on your body.

The deep breaths you took as you calmed your body down.

And it was all due to him.

“You drive me fucking crazy, mi vida. Getting me all riled up just so I can fuck you roughly.”

You bit your lip, looking down to where Angel was still buried in you. 

“I love you, Angel.”

“Te amo, mi amor.”

[sarcasticfina]

Fic Writer Tag Game

How many works do you have on AO3? 263

What’s your total AO3 word count? 4,901,188

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they? including the fandoms on FFnet, that haven't yet been moved over to ao3, that'd be a total of 37. separating the larger fandoms (marvel, dcu) into their individual parts: Thor; Arrow; Smallville; The Vampire Diaries; Glee; Captain America; Supernatural; Teen Wolf; Iron Man; Life with Derek; Firefly; Friday Night Lights; X-Men; Fantastic Four; Harry Potter; Sons of Anarchy; Girl Meets World; Batman; Daredevil; From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series; Transformers; Lost Girl; Game of Thrones; Banshee; High School Musical; The OC; One Tree Hill; CSI: New York; Degrassi; Gossip Girl; NCIS; The Unusuals; Criminal Minds; iCarly; Secret Life of the American Teenager; Twilight; and The Listener

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. and I wonder (if everything could ever feel this real forever) - darcy/bucky - Steve tells him that Darcy's harmless. Bucky imagines, on paper, Darcy is harmless. HYDRA wouldn't give her a second glance. But he does. He can barely keep his eyes off her. He's not sure he wants to. | Kudos: 5576

2. I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me) - darcy centric | darcy/steve - The path to self-discovery, including becoming Coulson's assistant-slash-liaison-slash-bff, Captain America's lady love, and rating fourth on the SHIELD BAMF scale, was like the yellow brick road; it was chaos and confusion around every bend. | Kudos: 3973

3. Take a little piece of my heart (and keep it for yourself) - oliver/felicity - A collection of Olicity prompts on Tumblr posted here for easier access/reading. | Kudos: 3498

4. You put your arms around me (and I'm home) - darcy/bucky - A collection of Darcy/Bucky oneshots, drabbles, and prompt fills. | Kudos: 3293

5. you (anchor me back down) - darcy/bucky - "I'll be right back." Famous last words. | Kudos: 2747

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? not all of them. i do try to keep up on them, especially on longer stories when there's been significant wait times in between chapters, or when a reader is asking a question or is unclear on something. and especially when someone writes a really indepth comment/review, i like to respond to those and talk about motivations and character growth.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? I've written a number of fics that either had suicide or major character death, so i'm not sure if one outranks the other in terms of most angsty... hmm... i remember "be still and know that I'm with you (be still and know that I am here)" and "light a match, burn the world to ash (I will watch it die, and hold your hand as I fly)" both got some pretty intense reactions when they were posted. And "It's Your Song That Sets Me Free (I Sing It While I Feel I Can't Go On)" was basically just angst from beginning to end. buuuuut, i think i'll say "so you think you can tell (heaven from hell" was, only because there's a build up of everything going so right, only to pivot at the end, so it feels very bittersweet.

Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written? i loooooove crossovers. i find writing in the marvel fandom makes things quite easy, but also smallville. as long as i can find a common thread, i enjoy finding a way to overlap two shows. i'll say the hardest one to write was "ruby red slippers (unavailable in her size)." I'm not sure why, but i found writing each personality together just felt strange. i liked the idea behind the story, but i definitely remember feeling like i was really forcing myself to keep going, like something just didn't fit right.

Have you ever received hate on a fic? oh, definitely. you cannot please everyone, it's impossible. for the most part, hate comes and i either argue back, take the criticism for what it's worth, or just ignore it when it's baseless. i think the hate that bothered me the most was a homophobic PM someone sent me re: "you know I will adore you ('til eternity)," on FFnet. i actually went and searched it up. they've since blocked me so i can't read our whole thread back and forth. but i did put part of it on tumblr so i could rant on it a bit, so you can see that here.

Do you write smut? If so what kind? ha. yes. depending on the story, it can be really detailed or really flowery. it depends on the ship, the plot, and how graphic i feel like being. i've definitely become more comfortable over the years with my writing. that said, i think everybody likes something different. i once had a reviewer tell me a sex scene was too much, just too intense. it was a stefan/caroline story and to be fair, that entire oneshot was just them fucking, lol, but it is what it is. to each their own.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Multiple times.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes! for the record, i am always happy to have my stories translated and shared. i just like having a link sent to me and to be credited.

What’s your all time favorite ship? i have a list of OTPs, because interests change and as shows come and go, my love for a ship can be shelved for a while before it pops back up at random. currently, i can't get enough of buck/eddie from 9-1-1. and, historically, chloe/oliver (smallville) and felicity/oliver (arrow) have been two of my top OTPs. but i think i'd have to go with bonnie/damon. they had all the potential and the show dropped the ball by not exploring it. at the same time, that's kind of a blessing, because i don't trust those writers to properly explore what they had without eventually destroying it for the likes of de/ena. it means a treasure trove for writing where it could have gone and all the what if's.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will? the intention is always to finish. but given how i feel about allison mack and how that impacts my feelings re: chloe sullivan, pretty much anything with her as a main character is not something i see myself returning to.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses? i'm putting these together because my strength is my weakness. i love to write. when i get an idea, i go all in and i will skip eating and sleeping to just write write write. but i also eventually hit a wall and i get so many ideas that i hyperfocus on one until the steam is gone and then i hyperfocus on the next one to maintain that need to keep writing, accidentally leaving the last story in the dust for entirely too long. i also have clinical depression that comes and goes, which hasn't been super great mixed with covid and isolation, so more often recently, i find myself overly exhausted and despite wanting to write, can rarely get motivated to do so. so, pre-covid, wrote so much i left entirely too many stories dangling. during covid, i've just been reading and struggling to get myself focused enough to do what i love.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i appreciate the authenticity when possible, but i've recently been reading more about how native speakers of other languages feel when a) their language is butchered by google translate, or b) it's just not genuine in terms of how bilingual speakers act or speak.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for? it was smallville, but i remember adopting it out to someone else because i wasn't going to finish it. so if you look at my ffnet, the first fandom i wrote for appears to be x-men: the movie, but i remember writing a chloe/oliver story prior to that.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? i have a lot. i mean, on ffnet, i have 576 stories, many of which were transferred over to ao3, with a lot of oneshots and drabbles getting joined together into collections. so there's a ton to pick from that span a 14-ish year timeline.

"you know I will adore you ('til eternity)" and "let me break (the walls that surround me)" hold a special place in my heart.

honestly, each story is important in its own way. there are bits and pieces of each that i love. every time i write something new it feels like my favorite. my best. and then a new idea comes along. there are scenes i've written that i loved more than the whole of what they became. lines that stand out that are almost too good to be a part of the larger picture.

one of my all time favorite passages i've written was bonnie's thoughts on damon and herself in 'if you love me (let me go)":

He is far from perfect. He is a novel of red, corrective ink. He is frayed pages and torn binding. His life, his choices, his mistakes leave lasting effects on everyone he meets.

She is a lifeboat with a hole in it. An anchor that drowns in the sea while everyone else remains steady above. She is both the calm and the storm, and while she screams that she will not be tamed, she cries. Bittersweet tears that go unnoticed and uncared about.

there are other stories, other pieces of dialogue, that i've been proud of. that make me laugh when i re-read them. that make me cry. and i love them. there are others that make me wilt and cringe and regret. it's a process. love and pride and growth, all bound together.

Tagging: @absentlyabbie, @anonymous033, and anyone else who'd like to fill this all out, haha

[tu-mint]

Amendment

A/N: Sooo I’ve been meaning to share my Mortal Kombat stuff on here for a while, I wanted to wait for the movie to come out first 😅🤣

TW: mentions of torture & sexual assault

In which Shang Tsung and the Black Dragon are officially put down and Earthrealm's defenders are able to return home, but Raelynn is stuck in her thoughts, but one of the young Kombatants is able to help her reconsider the negativity in her mind. (Based around MK11 & Aftermath but w/ a twist?)

Raelynn knew this all too well. With her entity as a half god, a change in time would do nothing to erase the horrifying memory in her mind back in the Black Dragon's dungeon -- at least, that's what it felt like. Hours upon hours of nothing but brutal beatings, each kick, punch, and swing as harsh as the last. While it wouldn't have hurt too much being that she was stronger than the average mortal, the bindings fused with the dark power of Shinnok's amulet extracted much of her godlike strength and left her as a helpless bait to be shredded and mauled at by the jaws of vicious and starved predators, desperate to take a leap at the prey before them. It still seemed unbelievable how she was alive even after all the bruises and cuts and blood...but she managed. After all, those shallow wounds were all but nothing comapred to--

The demigoddess shivered involuntarily and inhaled sharply. Thankfully, everyone aboard was too immersed in their own activities to notice her sudden actions, but she knew she wasn't stable enough with where her thoughts were treading. Her eyes searched for her son who was currently speaking in a group of the younger Kombatants. A yellow strip of cloth with an intricate design she couldn't make out was fastened around his bicep, and she wondered where it had come from until her eyes peered at the young male he stood beside. Takeda, son to Kenshi and pupil under Grandmaster Hasashi, was missing the usual yellow band that adorned his head as a reminder to those that he was a member of the Shirai Ryu clan. His short onyx locks blew freely but he didn't seem to mind all that much, instead grinning down at Haru who wore the cloth proudly. Cassie and Jacqui mirrored the telepath's reaction, the blonde pulling out her phone and snapping a picture. The sight warmed her heart and she was thankful the young fighters didn't look upon her son with irritation, but rather genuine care and happiness. When Haru had told her of the adventures and stories spent with them, a pang of guilt struck her for the early misjudgement on her part, believing they were just frivolous juveniles that only gained their high positions due to the status of their families.

Wishing not to allow her brooding to draw unwanted attention, Raelynn slipped silently to the back of the ship. Her efforts did not go unnoticed by Raiden who stood near the hull of the ship, but he decided against speaking with her in that moment.

He recalled the time he had found her, bound like a dog and covered in welts and lacerations big and small. She was curled into a ball, shaking and burying her face into her knees. It was then Raiden became aware of the state of her clothing, torn and barely covering her form as if someone intentionally ripped and pulled at it to expose more of her. Immediately he slipped out of his own robe and pulled it across her trembling form, respectfully averting his eyes. As he helped Raelynn stand to her feet, his eyes widened as countless more bruises and marks made themselves visible, tiny splotches of smooth brown skin barely surviving. These people had clearly put her through a very long, thorough beating, and it was evident that they were in no means hoping to show mercy. No, they wanted her dead. Raiden had teleported into the SF ship and rushed her to the infirmary room. People cleared the way immediately and knew better than to question his sudden appearance as he brushed past them while carrying the barely conscious woman to a bed near the back. He knew the Kombatants would be able to handle themselves well, so he stayed and began the healing process.

It was during this time he realized that Raelynn was no mere mortal, but a half god created by the hands of Cetrion. While it was difficult at first for him to fully trust her said intentions due to her creator's betrayal upon the Elder Gods, he had seen her heart's purity during the mission. The thunder god knew that she was making the best of efforts to redeem herself of past mistakes, and Liu Kang recognized this as well. A twinge of concern fell upon him just then as he knew that she still had much she needed to recover from. Whether she would eventually open up to him or not didn't matter, he would be patient and assist her as best as he could.

Raelynn took a seat upon the thick wooden rail and swung her legs over to face the bloody depths of Netherrealm's ocean. She wasn't afraid of falling nor coming across any odd sea creatures knowing that she had flying abilities, but of course she also wasn't dumb enough to try and test her strength or reflexes. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she looked on at the overlapping waves, allowing her mind to space out and roam. Her fingers tapped on the rail in a rhythmic pattern, and she suddenly was reminded of something. Her hands came together and moved in a circular motion, stretching further until the form of her solar powers had become a guitar. She clutched the neck and hugged the body of the instrument under her other arm smiling to herself.

Upon visiting the islands of the Pacific in the past, she had learned about the aspect of music through vocals and tools that produced a pleasant audio. The demigoddess found that these brought her a sense of peace and tranquility, and immediately she wanted to learn the ways of this fascinating revelation. What came as an interest to her in the beauty of music was the endless techniques for a new sound, new sensations, new reactions, and day by day, there was always the creation or discovery of another. She allowed her fingers to delicately pluck and strum a mix of chords, a tingle settling in her chest at the euphoria beginning to wash over her. Her hands moved on their own accord, finding a steady tempo and following a pattern with an occasional switch. The nerves that built up in the pit of her stomach had eventually disappeared into wisps of nothingness. Her eyes began to slowly close and she hummed quietly wanting no attention to be drawn to the back of the ship. It seemed to work decently, until-

"Wow, you're part god and a singer? Gotta say I'm definitely jealous."

The woman’s fingers froze in place already in position to strum a new chord. She craned her neck just enough to glance over her shoulder at the intruder, already knowing it who it was. “My life is nothing to be envious of, Specialist Briggs.”

Raelynn heard footsteps tread closer and tapped on her guitar. The younger woman climbed onto the rail and threw a leg over the other. They sat for a moment in silence, staring off at the deep scarlet waters swishing and rolling about. “I owe you an apology, Specialist.”

Jacqui’s eyebrow quirked and her eyes fell upon the half god. Raelynn took her silence as a sign to continue. “I apologize for my behavior towards you and your friends throughout most of the mission. Even after I had caused harm upon your lives and nearly killed your fiancé, you still ensured trust in me. That I could never understand, but-"

"It wasn't easy." The half goddess shifted her attention to the soldier. Her face was impassive as she watched the waves. Raelynn couldn't tell if her expression was a good or bad thing, but she decided against trying to get her hopes up. A great deal (if not all) of her acts under Cetrion were cruel and groundless, and she held no anguish up until the time she had to come face to face with the truth of her doings. It tore her day and night, and meeting Hajoon had her convinced that she would be able to leave the life of corruption far behind and start fresh. Of course, the facts couldn't be hidden forever, and the half goddess found herself back in the deep hole of falsehood, surrounded with nothing but fabricated offers to a better life. She scoffed mentally. That opportunity was officially closed off to her. It seemed as though disaster was always a few steps away, eager to ruin her chances at something sound, and risking it a third time was nowhere near appealing.

"There were many instances where I questioned why the Chosen One defended you to such an extent, especially after it was SF that provided for your recovery." Jacqui's voice had brought her out of her thoughts. "Trust me, I was beyond ready to blast a hole or two through your head a hell lot of times." She paused. "But spending time with Haru and hearing your whole deal...I understood you." Raelynn's brows raised slightly, not expecting such a considerate response.

"I couldn't imagine a life finding out that the one who was supposed to be my caretaker, my protector, my safe haven, was actually the one who robbed me of all that. My mother..." Her words trailed off and she peered down into her lap. She tightened her jaw and bit her lip to keep from releasing the tears awaiting just behind her eyes. Raelynn almost reached her hand out in an effort of comfort but stopped, not wanting to ruin the intimacy in the moment. Jacqui lifted her head and continued. "Man, it would kill me if she'd ever done something like that...growing up believing that everything was all good and sweet, and everyone just hated her for doing what I thought was the right thing, thinkin' it was my own folks who were the crooks trynna steal me away and take my power from me..." She scoffed. "Seein' my dad as a revenant then manipulated by Kronika was betrayal enough, and it hurt like hell. Point is, I realized that you truly had no malice in you. You were just takin' orders and tryin' to keep your mother—uh, Cetrion, happy."

And it was true. Raelynn trusted completely in the virtue goddess as any child would their guardian. She worked vigorously in carrying out the Elder Goddess' wishes, longing to eventually gain any sort of praise or affection, but it was rare that those occurrences came to past. Most of her upbringing revolved around unanswered questions and the constant urge to do better, trying at all costs to win approval. But like a fool, she allowed her heart to get the best of her, put her through the worst of hells just to seek out a foolish desire that would never be anything close to genuine. That's what messed her up in the first place, and she couldn't—no, would not dare to do something as stupid as that again. It was only her and Haru. Nobody else.

"I am...appreciative of your understanding, Ms. Briggs," Raelynn spoke after a long moment of silence. "You and your comrades are owed a huge debt on my behalf."

Jacqui chuckled and shook her head, then turned to look at the demigoddess. "You're damn right we are!" The two women shared a laugh on the rail. "Actually, I believe there is a way to pay back this debt."

"How so?"

"Well, Takeda and I's wedding was put on pause due to this whole mission, and it cost a lot to find decent live music. Cassie offered, but we're trying to have a simple proper wedding, not a drunk karaoke session. And you have the voice of an angel—well, a god in your case. If you can strum a few chords and sing a few notes for a few hours, I'll consider you free of deficit."

Raelynn cocked her head and raised a brow. "That's...that's all?" She figured the woman would request of something more extravagant, like a prolonged lifespan or giving her supernatural abilities. Jaqui nodded and crossed her arms awaiting an answer.

"I...very well, Ms. Br-"

"Jacqui. That formality stuff is weird if it's not comin' from General Blade." The demigoddess was taken by surprise again. She gave a single nod and looked on at the waves which now fell into to a more mellow and calm pattern.

Perhaps it wasn't just Haru and her against the world. Every person aboard had their story, their differences, their fall outs, but they were able to cast it all aside at an effort for peace upon a world that did almost nothing for them in return. Some aspects of the Earthrealm were odd, she thought. It was going to take a lot of time to get used to these people, but maybe, just maybe...

There was a sense of hope.

[defensefilms]

Defense Films Lists His Favorite TV Characters Of All Time

5. Chris Partlow- The Wire

The ending of The Wire paints Chris Partlow as something closer to a serial killer. 

He wasn’t. None of his hits were done out of pleasure, curiosity or even impulse. Every one of those bodies helped the Stanfield organization become what they became, even the one on Michael’s stepdad.

What Chris represents is reliability and capability. The ultimate “get shit done” guy. Out of all the characters on the show, none were more dependable or crucial to the success of the institution they served. 

Lester Freeman was capable but not a good politician and ultimately a nuisance to his superiors. Bill Rawls was incredibly capable at his job but he was power hungry and ambitious. In season 5, Gus Haynes is the most capable man in the news office but the problem was that Gus questioned authority and didn’t “go with the flow” when the office decided the paper needed a “refreshing” of how they cover the local news.

Chris didn’t have any of these handicaps impeding the people he served.

He recruits the foot soldiers for the Stanfield crew, even training them himself and Marlo had something akin to a small army at his disposal as a result. He organized his sub-ordinates, handled all surveillance when Marlo’s crew was under investigation at the start of season 5 and took care of incoming shipments after they established a direct line to the Greeks. 

When the task required finesse or subtlety, like the time he stole Sergey’s picture from the court office, he was more than capable of that too. When Marlo is questioning how to address the murder of one of his dealers, he listens to Chris and chooses to retaliate on the perpetrator directly rather than targeting everyone on his corner. 

Marlo truly comes to rely on Chris in matters concerning Omar Little. Every step of how Marlo wants to get back at the near mythical larcenist, is first passed by Chris. Chris takes this as his number one job throughout the show. Anything concerning Omar is handled with brutal efficiency, tact and an almost out ouf place  sense of professional pride. 

That’s Chris’ most endearing quality. Through all the blood, guts, scheming, lying, betrayal that comprises Baltimore’s underworld, all of which Chris is very much a part of, he has a pride in how he approaches the day to day business aspects of what he does. 

Stringer Bell is arguably the best second-in-command in the show’s run but he was dishonest, ultimately harming the survival of the institution he served and damn near going rogue. 

Chris doesn’t share such qualities as blind ambition or selfishness. He understands that trust is all he has in this game. When the indictments eventually come down and Chris is facing a life sentence he doesn’t complain or even raise the possibility of turning state witness. Instead he ends up on the yard along side Wee-Bay. Marlo in turn makes sure that Chris’ people are taken care of financially.

Many of the men that serve in the various institutions depicted in the show could learn a thing from Chris Partlow. When the time came, he fell on his sword and did so in full acknowledgement that this is where it all leads. There’s a kind of honor in that.

4. Tony Soprano- The Sopranos

One of the biggest misconceptions about The Sopranos was that it was a story about a gangster. It wasn’t, or at the very least, that would be an over-simplification of what the story actually contained.

What it was was a story about a man and his family, both biological and criminal. That’s the tie the binds all of the story’s narratives together.

Another way of looking at Tony’s story is one of leadership. Having ousted his Uncle Junior from the seat of power, season 2 and onwards, as far Tony’s criminal life is concerned, focuses on what happens once you get to the top. 

While the show’s creators gave you plenty of grizzly, violent scenes, what leads to those is the story of a man struggling and failing at leadership. 

In every season, Tony has to deal with a problematic figure, employee or subordinate. 

Season 1 was his Uncle and the idea of old fashioned leadership. Then in season 2 it was the ever-acerbic Richie Aprile, representing a generation older than Tony’s, that still feels entitled to something. Seasons 3 and 4 gave us Ralph Cifaretto, the only one among the men I’m mentioning that actually earns his status and then in season 5, it was his cousin Tony Blundetto.

Each of these problems is uniquely stressful for Tony because of how they pull at the threads of both his family and criminal life. With the exception of his Uncle Junior, he kills all of them.

By that metric, Tony is in fact a very poor leader. 

He doesn’t really deal with the Richie Aprile problem because his sister beats him to it. He doesn’t willingly promote Ralph Cifaretto even though Ralph earns it and is the only one among the candidates with any real intellect and business savvy. In both the cases of Christopher Moltisanti and cousin Tony Blundetto, Tony allows favoritism and nepotism to cloud his judgement and ironically both those men die at Tony Soprano’s hands.

This paints a picture of a tyrannical man, slowly devouring everything around him because he’s got to be in control. Worse yet, his need to be in control doesn’t actually lead to smarter long term decisions or better people management.

Tony’s relationship with Ralph in particular is built on professional envy. He feels entitled to Ralph’s race horse winnings because “why should his subordinate benefit more from anything than he does?”. He then proceeds to take ownership of the racehorse itself without assuming any of the costs of owning the animal. Then to top it off, he steals Ralph’s girlfriend purely because he has the status to do it, even digging in to Ralph’s personal life in order to justify doing so.

Textbook mismanagement. Every type of managerial violation you could imagine.

So how does Tony handle it when an employee is actually being a problem on a criminal/business level?

He rewards Tony Blundetto’s deception after the Joey Peeps killing by letting him run an already profitable gambling joint. He promotes Christopher to “made guy” even with his drug problems being well known, and he promotes Bobby Baccalieri, partly at his sister’s behest and partly out of spite.

 It was fun to watch on screen but you’d hate to work for Tony Soprano.

How does that translate to his family? What kind of leader is Tony at home?

Season 3 does well at examining Tony as a father/paternal figure starting with his relationship with Jackie Jr, which is built on concern at first. Then later it starts to make Tony anxious. Before Tony decides to push nature towards taking it’s course, when Jackie runs afoul of men in Tony’s charge.

His relationship with AJ is also a bigger part of the show as the seasons go and it’s not much better in as far as the leadership or guidance that Tony offers. We can waffle on about AJ’s failings as a spoilt teenager but the real problem is that Tony doesn’t see himself in AJ. 

That’s the first step to any failure of leadership. An inability to find common ground or identify with the people you’re leading.

We won’t go in to how hypocritical it is because the entire way that Tony entered the mob life is because he himself was a mob prince and his father’s status definitely paved the way for him. 

Hypocrisy. That’s the other key to failure in leadership. 

All these negatives added up to make the most fascinating television character in over 20 years. A constant stream of contradictions and watching a man say one thing but do another was it’s own experience and you didn’t realize what a horrible human being you were watching until you saw the show over and over again. A scary observation that implies people are either blind or really comfortable with evil and narcissistic behaviour.

3. Noah Solloway- The Affair

Out of all the characters on this list, this one was hurt most by writers hitting a ceiling in how much they could say about the character or how much they wanted to say.  Divorced men don’t really have that much representation, so if you’re writing a character that so strongly linked to that one particular event in his life, you may hit a ceiling if you don’t actually have real life examples to work with.

They had the right actor, the right story and it was the right time in human history to tell this story, it just felt like they didn’t follow through on really speaking on the plight or rise of guys in Noah’s situation.

Anytime I watched The Affair, and unlike most, I was pretty loyal to it despite what reviews told me, I identified with Noah. All those other characters didn’t make sense to me the way Noah did.

The story begins with my man being stuck in a rut, the kind of middle age funk  married men tend to fall in to, so he drives out to visit some folks and while he’s there he happens to meet a baddie. Story of every man’s life. Only he does what you’re not supposed to do and sacrifices everything he has so he can be with the bad-bad. 

Then my mans starts popping off with his book writing, gets a publishing deal and in his 40′s, he starts achieving his highest career peaks. See this is important because it shows that the writers understood the subject matter really well, as well as the demographic they were talking about.

Then the next season, they go in to some murder mystery plot, Noah ends up in jail somehow, almost as if the writers and producers didn’t feel confident that they could tell Noah’s story without the theatrics/murder mystery element. 

The other danger that the writers probably didn’t want to indulge was rewarding the character with any kind of happy ending or positive outcome. Noah’s infidelity serves as the jumping off point to all of the story’s unfolding plots, mostly depicting the impact on the lives of his immediate family, a handful of which play out in sad dramatic fashion. So the writers likely felt like Noah couldn’t win at the end. 

In the 1930′s when gangster films were first being made, they would commonly feature PSA messages at the start warning against criminal behaviour. 1931′s “Little Caesar” starring Edward G Robinson, features a warning at the end that makes it clear the film’s producers and writers needed the character to go down in flames at the end, to prove the moral point that “crime doesn’t pay”. 

A writer’s moral obligation and the times in which they live can lead some to write the ending that makes a moral point rather than writing the most dramatic or honest ending. I think Noah Solloway kind of suffered from this.

I don’t know. 

There was a chance to explore modern men in a way that most stories fail to. They had the foundation. They knew enough about who and what they’re talking about. However it didn’t manifest in the telling of the story. 

I’m not saying Noah needed a positive ending, it’s just that the one we got was not the most fitting nor did it wind up ending the story honestly or even dramatically.

Noah Solloway should have got the Tony Soprano treatment in as far as how much the writers explored his inner world but instead the show’s creators decided it didn’t matter. They didn’t answer the question of why this happens to modern men.

If nothing else Noah Solloway can be a blueprint or foundation for those telling this story in the future.

 2. Ciro Di Marizio- Gomorrah

About as slimy and as low down as a television character can possibly be. Ciro represents Machiavellian criminality pushed to it’s extremes. 

When writers plot a character’s trajectory, they often fill it with moments that make the character more endearing. Exploring the relationship the character may have with a child, friend or spouse that makes you see the character’s more genuine/compassionate/likeable side. The writers of Gomorrah did plenty of that with Ciro.

However, they didn’t hesitate to show you just how off-the-rails and downright evil Ciro could be. 

What’s funny is that Ciro is defined by loyalty and servitude when the story begins. He is a capable captain and rises to 2nd in command when the Savastano family needs him to. However the death of his close friend and mentor changes him for the worse and he goes ham. 

What follows is betrayal and Ciro basically masterminding a coup of the Savastano clan but the levels of paranoia that his new found power push him to, make him question whether it was all worth it. The world burns around him and a kind of justice is restored when Gennaro is able to take back power and restore the Savastano name. 

That’s one aspect of the show that Ciro truly exemplifies in that he rises to the top but the throne never truly feels like it’s his.

He is Iago-like in his ability to understand the weaknesses of people around him. He proves himself more cunning, capable, strategic, murderous and even business-minded than almost every other character. Every character except for Pietro Savastano (the man he betrays) and Gennaro Savastano. 

The show goes to great lengths to put forth the idea that crime families in Naples are on the same level as the pope. True modern day monarchies. Royal families that have the power to benefit or harm anyone around them. People bow their heads to them when they walk in public and use reverential terms when addressing them. They will often have salons, jewelers  or restaurants cleared out so they can enjoy the establishment in ostentatious privacy. 

When you look at it like that, Ciro was always an outsider. The difference between just sitting on the throne and being born of the throne. 

In that way maybe Ciro’s story is about redemption. 

He eventually sides with Gennaro Savastano again, helping him get his wife and daughter back after they’re kidnapped. He does this by essentially lying to/duping a crew of young dealers from Florence to fund this hostage rescue and then he offers himself as a sacrifice when the Florentines demand blood.

At his best Ciro served the clan and went to great lengths to restore what he had destroyed. 

1. Marlo Stanfield- The Wire

Is there any greater?

Sure there are characters like Tony Soprano whose world and whose inner thoughts the audience gets more familiar and intimate with. Within the same shared universe as Marlo is a character like Stringer Bell and the writers of the Wire go to great lengths to understand and convey his moral conflict as a drug kingpin turned wannabe real estate tycoon. 

Marlo is something purer though. 

You don’t need to know his inner-most thoughts like Tony because his utmost desire is simple, he wants to be the top kingpin of Baltimore. What more do you want?

He does not share Stringer’s moral complexity because unlike Stringer he is not conflicted at all. He’s not a drug dealer playing businessman, he’s just a drug dealer and that’s all he ever wanted to be.

From the start of season 3, it was fascinating watching this man move about on the screen with a confidence reserved for the richest and most talented. Indeed Marlo proves he has both in bundles. 

He outwits the older drug kingpin in Stringer Bell by maintaining independence from the Co-Op. He matches Avon Barksdale’s war effort step-for-step after Avon comes home from prison. He outsmarts the wily, Proposition Joe in order to learn how to launder his money and then get access to the Greeks.

It was fascinating watching Marlo avoid pitfalls, monopolize Baltimore, out-think his older counterparts and grow his empire to the scope that he did. 

There’s a youtube video that compiled all of Marlo’s scenes from his 3 seasons on The Wire and it pretty much plays like a feature film. Watch it here if you dig Marlo as much as I do.

You’re not watching a drug dealer become a kingpin, or at the very least that’s what I believe. It has more to do with watching the younger generation upset the order, and in a lot of ways that’s what Marlo represents. From the moment Marlo shows up, all old agreements are null and void. He does this over and over again throughout his story. Constantly upsetting the order and establishing his own. 

Indeed Marlo isn’t aware that this is what he’s doing. He’s acting on ambition, arrogance and naivety. 

It speaks volumes that most of the characters on this list have on-screen relationships that explore their personalities, like the aforementioned Ciro’s relationship with his daughter. Marlo has none of that.

Marlo’s most revealing relationship is his rivalry with Omar Little, a man he only ever encounters once. The continuation of their feud happens because Marlo refuses to let any perceived slight towards him slide. One way of looking at what this shows is that Marlo is both egoist and perfectionist, the latter of which is actually very prized personality traits in today’s business environment. The combination of the two is actually commonly seen among CEO’s and top executives.

Marlo shows every weakness and drawback of youth while exposing the follies of the more seasoned and experienced in his field. A walking contradiction in that way.

[yungidreamer]

Claimed

Summary: An intruder enters the territory of Chan and his pack, attacking people and causing havoc. Seemingly by chance he saves a victim that turns out to be his mate, but as fate would have it, he happens to be a wolf at the time. How will he protect her, come clean, and claim his mate?

Word count: 8.2k

Content warnings: slightly dark themes, a werewolf serial killer who is a vindictive asshole, impregnation kink, marking, minor descriptions of violence, sort of stalking, sort of possessive behavior. Some cursing.

Music: Come Out by Lenise Morales and War of Hearts by Ruelle

“Come on, boy,” she said, patting her leg and holding out the leash. “Let’s go on a walk before it gets too late.” Chan hopped up off his round dog bed near the couch, wagging his tail as he came to her. He sat patiently, turning his head to let her reach the leather collar she had put on his neck. Jesus, his pack mates would be in hysterics if they saw him like this, he thought to himself. But he could have endured the embarrassment for her.

How had he ended up like this? Really, it was a mix of destiny and bad luck on  both of their parts. He honestly never thought he would meet his mate when he was in his wolf form and hurt on top of it. Fights weren’t something he got into that often and something he avoided when he could, but that night three months ago he had caught that piece of shit lone wolf stalking her.

Why the loner had picked her, he had no idea, but Chan had to be grateful in some ways. How long would it have been before he ran across her if not for that? Jesus, what if he had gotten there too late? He didn’t want to think about it.

That night he had been sent to track the interloper that had been causing havoc in their territory. He was the first of the pack to actually find him, which must have been luck since Minho was generally the best tracker and Changbin a close second. They had taken the two days before and barely missed catching him at the no-tell motel he had been staying at and at some restaurant where he had mauled some poor woman heading home after her shift. Changbin had been furious with himself for not tracking him fast enough and had been the one to find her bloodied and crying near the back door of the restaurant. He had shifted back to human and called 911, telling them he had been passing by when he heard her crying, a plausible enough story not to raise any suspicion. Besides as far as anyone involved knew, it was a rabid dog attack… a massive rabid dog.

Tracking was exhausting work and got shared amongst all the members of the pack. The third night had been his job and he had taken a neighborhood near the one he had been stalking, suspecting he had moved his hunting grounds but not that far. His hunch had been right, but it was pure luck that he had come across the scent of the intruder as he patrolled, just hoping to catch some hint, some clue.

That whiff had pulled him down an alley and into the strip mall parking lot of the craft store. For the life of him, he could not figure out why on earth he would pick this sort of place. The parking lot was half empty since most of the stores were already closed… except the big hobby shop. The sodium orange lights of the parking lot had flickered and buzzed, bothering his sensitive senses and it must have done the same for the lone wolf… so why on earth would he choose to hunt here.

Chan had spotted him, in human form, leaning casually on a planter half a dozen meters from the entrance to the store taking a drag on a hand rolled cigarette. He had let out an involuntary huffing sneeze, hating the smell as it drifted to him. That had given him away. Even if he hadn’t been able to sense that he was a fellow werewolf, no dog would have been wandering around alone in a parking lot here, like this, at this hour.

“I’m surprised you found me, rover,” the loner had chuckled, self-satisfied and amused. “I would have let you guys be, but you couldn’t just let me hunt a little.” Chan had growled as he watched him stand up, letting the shadows and flickering lights obscure his face as he pulled himself into a standing position. He had moved fast, charging at Chan and drawing a knife just before he got within an arm's length of him. Chan dodged but not fast enough, and the knife caught him in the ribs, grazing over a couple of them before he could dig his teeth into the man’s arm.

“Fuck,” the man yelled, punching Chan in the jaw to force him to let go. Stars sparkled in his vision and pain sliced through him as the knife slid along his collarbone and upper leg. He had gotten one last swipe in before retreating, leaving Chan bloodied and limping.

A safe place to shift was what he had needed, there surely would have been someplace nearby, a little alcove or alley between a couple of the shops, but before he could get very far, she had stepped out of the store, locking up and leaving for the night.  Chan froze. He had been slinking away, slowly trying to get out of view, but was still very clearly in view when she had stepped out. His pain had blinded him to other sensations at first, but even before she turned and saw him, it hit him like a freight train.

Mine the sensation said with a ferocity he had never felt before. Why he had to find his mate like this, he had no idea. He wasn’t particularly unlucky. He didn’t spend tons of time as a wolf either. His pack was pretty chill and was pretty careful to stay below the radar. Their territory was safe and they were known for not being overly territorial, letting people pass through without a problem so long as they left and didn’t make problems. So how he ran across her while he was shifted and injured was just stupidly bad luck.

She had gasped when she finally turned around and saw him, but who wouldn’t when they turned around to see a massive dog behind them limping and bleeding. A moment’s fear had shot through her at the sight until Chan had whimpered, flattening himself on the pavement to look as unthreatening as possible.

“Hey puppy,” she said softly, putting out her hand for him to sniff as she leaned down, slowly coming closer. “Can I take a look at you?”

Yes please, he thought, rolling gently onto his uninjured side.

“What on earth happened to you… boy?” She asked, catching sight of his belly. “I don’t suppose you are going to make this easy on me and would just get in my car if I brought it around?” She sighed and patted his head. Rubbing his head into her hand, he rolled back over and pulled himself up to stand again. “Maybe you can just come with me, hmmm?” Standing up, she started to move towards her car, keeping an eye on him as he slowly limped behind her. She opened the back door to her car and patted the seat, inviting him to hop in, which he did quite happily. “Well at least that was easy.” She observed, closing the door behind him as he laid down on the back seat. “Now we just have to go spend my whole paycheck at the emergency vets.”

Sorry, he said to her in his head. I’ll pay you back when I can. Pain pulsed through him as the city lights swished over him in the back seat. The emergency vet clinic was only a half an hour away but that was way longer than he would have ever wanted to have to lay bleeding in the backseat of a car. In fact, he really was sure he could have gone his whole damn life without knowing what that felt like.

He was tough, he was the alpha of the group, though he didn’t enforce a hard hierarchy like some did. They were more family than anything else. They looked out for each other, did their part, contributed in any way that they could. It worked well for them and everyone was pretty happy with the arrangement. It was just his job to be the final voice when decisions needed to be made or to speak for the group when dealing with outsiders.

“Can you get up, pup?” She asked when she opened the door in the parking lot of the vet’s office. Chan nodded, though it probably didn’t look like it, what with being a dog and all, and stood up on slightly shaky limbs. Thank god they were close, he thought to himself as he stepped out the door and onto the pavement.

“I need some help please,” she said as they stepped through the automatic sliding door of the clinic.

“Oh my god,” the woman behind the counter said when she caught sight of him, picking up the phone on the desk and hitting a couple of buttons. “Doctor West we need you in reception now please, and bring whoever is back there to help.” She hung up the phone and dashed out from behind the desk. “What on earth happened?”

“I don’t know,” she said looking down at Chan as she kept a hand on his head. “I was just coming out of work and found him like this in the parking lot. Maybe he got cut getting out of a yard or went through a window or something?”

The receptionist had shrugged, it seemed like as good an explanation as any. They had taken him back, stitched him up and scanned him for an ID chip, which, shocker, he didn’t have. With no one else seemingly accountable for him, she had decided to take him home, saying she would try and find his owners. For now, she would pay for the vet bills and she just had to hope whoever owned him would pay her back. Though honestly, given the shape he was in, she wasn’t holding out hope there was someone, or at least someone responsible.

That was how he had ended up here and stuck in his canine form way more than he was used to. The one upside was that he was with her. She had spent a couple of weeks hanging up posters with his picture, but eventually just decided to adopt him herself, leaving him in the weirdest bind he could imagine.

The first few days he had stayed just because everything hurt too much to do anything else. I’ll change back soon, he told himself, I just need the stitches to heal a little first. Then one evening when she came home he could smell him and cigarettes on her and his heart had clenched. The loner had been there for her? For his mate? At that moment, that realization he had a feeling he never would have thought possible. Thank god I was the one that got stabbed. That had settled it. He had to be there, he had to stay and protect her, at least until the intruder was caught.

Not long after that he had shifted when she was off at work, finally getting in touch with his pack. After the understandable chewing out he let Jisung give him since he had basically disappeared without a word for DAYS, he explained what had happened and told him to pick someone to shadow her while she was out or at work. Jisung agreed, letting out a low whistle at the story and the news that he had found his mate. Chan left the details to him and the others, still not feeling even 50% if he had to be honest. He trusted them and for now, he was stuck.

Now it had been three months and the loner was still on the loose and still in their territory. They had no idea why and he had only attacked one person since that night. Now and again, when she came home from work, he would smell him on her, and still other times, he would catch the smell of the loner when they walked through the neighborhood. But it was never enough, never that fresh, and he had no idea how he was flitting around so close yet so far.

Jisung had the brilliant idea of getting one of them hired to work with her at the craft store. Chan had to admit, it had been a good idea, it kept someone close, but it probably wouldn’t have been the solution he would have wanted. Smelling Changbin on her every night when she came home from work rankled him an unbelievable amount, despite the fact that he knew nothing was happening with them. But between smelling his pack mate and the loner on her, and being unable to do anything with her aside from pretending to be her pet was going to drive him mad.

How on earth was he supposed to tell her who he really was? Buck also couldn’t just disappear. And yes, she had named him after the dog in Call of the Wild which was both adorable and painful. She was attached to him...just the wrong him. He needed to come clean but, aside from breaking to her that werewolves existed at all, something that would most likely freak her out, saying, surprise (!) you know that dog you’ve been letting sleep in your bed and changing in front of… well, he’s actually a guy. Because, you know, that would go over really well.

So that was how he ended up on the end of her leash, heading out for a walk. If he didn’t have to do this as a dog and have to make a show of going to the bathroom on these walks, he would be far happier. It was nice being out with her, he just wanted to be able to do it as a person, maybe holding her hand, though he might have tolerated a collar and leash if she really liked it for some reason.

Chan walked ahead of her, scenting the air as they made their evening loop of the neighborhood. All seemed well and normal for the most part, at least for the first half of the walk. But as they made the turn that would head them back towards home the scent of the loner drifted across their path. Chan stopped, causing her to bump into him and make a little sound of surprise as she accidentally stepped on one of his back feet.

“What’s the matter, Buck?” She asked, looking in the direction he was looking. “Did you see something?” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t answer and, after pausing for a few seconds, she moved past him, trying to snap him into moving again. Chan stepped in front of her, preventing her from going as he tried to place where the scent was coming from. “Come on, boy, I want to go home.”

I know, he said mentally, willing for her to understand him. Trust me, me too. Suddenly he saw it, the shape of another of his kind skulking on the other side of a cinder block wall. It’s dark chestnut fur moved slightly in the breeze as the animal stayed stock still. In a split second, it dashed back behind the wall and Chan gave chase. He pulled his leash out of her hand, sending a mental apology to her, and immediately gave chase. He couldn’t let this just keep going on. She called out his name, well the name she had given him, as he disappeared behind the wall, giving chase.

Quick as a flash, he saw the tail disappear around the back of the house on the other side of the block wall. He skidded around the corner, keeping the scent trail of the intruder under his nose. The chase led him through alleys and back yards as they ran and dodged. Finally he saw him disappear over a high fence and Chan lept after him, feeling like he was finally gaining on him.

When he landed he heard a snap and knew immediately that he had made a mistake. A sharp pain shot through his front leg. It had all been a plan, been a trap to get him here, to get him trapped… and to leave her alone. He had never really felt as stupid as he did right now. He finally gathered the will to look down at his leg to see it clasped in a leg hold trap, cut and bleeding, but thankfully not broken, probably by sheer luck. He couldn’t run like this and he had to get back to her.

With a gulp, he changed back, needing the dexterity of human hands to get out of the contraption. It pinched harder, stinging his nerves as his leg turned into an arm, thickening in the vice like grip. It took him a moment to stop seeing stars and then another to figure out how to press down the sides of the trap to open it. When he was finally free, he looked around. He had to get out but running around naked and bleeding was a great way to get the cops called on him.

Making his way to the edge of the neighboring yard, he looked over the wall to see laundry hanging on a line outside. He hopped over the wall and took a t-shirt and some pants, promising to try to remember to bring them back when he could. Once he was dressed, he ran. He ran towards where he had left her; ran like his life depended on it. Ran because hers probably did. His feet barely touched the ground as he rushed back to where he had left her.

Suddenly he heard a scream rend the air and he felt his whole body go cold. So stupid, he berated himself as he willed his body to move faster. Turning the corner a couple of blocks from where he had left her alone, he saw her… and him. The loner had cornered her against a fence in the front yard of some house, a hand around her throat and a knife pressed against her ribs. Without a second thought, Chan rushed forward with a guttural growl. The loner heard him and turned. Momentarily distracted from her, he didn’t notice when she jerked herself down, loosening his grip enough on her neck to fall in the direction opposite the knife he held on her. With his attention torn between two people now, Chan had the upper hand and wrestled him away from her.

“Run,” Chan commanded her as he tackled the loner to the ground. They rolled and grappled like gladiators, vying for dominance, both ignoring her. Something that turned out to be a mistake on the part of the loner. Just as he rolled on top, pinning Chan by gripping his injured arm, she rushed toward them, picking up the dropped knife and driving it into his back. The loner let out a rage filled scream and rolled away from them both as he changed back into his wolf form. Running away as quickly as he could manage and disappearing into the neighborhood.

“Are you okay,” Chan asked, getting up and grasping her upper arms. Her face was a mask of shock, eyes wide and not really seeing anything. “Look at me. Tell me that you are okay.”

“I have to find my dog,” she said, her eyes flashing around them, yet she didn’t pull away. “I think he tried to chase that thing away. He ran off and I need to make sure he’s okay… he was already hurt and…”

“I’m okay,” Chan said to her, giving her a little shake to get her attention. “I’m Buck. You found me in a parking lot and saved me. It’s me.” Her eyes snapped to his face and she went white. “I was following him that night, trying to figure why he was here. That’s how I got hurt, but that’s how I found you.”

“You were looking for me, too?” She shrank back, her eyes searching for something in his face.

“No, but,” Chan sighed. He needed to come clean but this wasn’t the place. Not in the open, not in someone else’s yard. “Let’s go home. Please. Can we talk there?”

“Home?” She asked, looking at him suspiciously.

“Your home,” he corrected. “Just, let me explain. Give me a chance.”

She looked down at the arms that were holding her, finally noticing his cut arm. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s not that bad,” he let go of her arms, trying to hide his injury a little.

“Let me take care of it,” she offered timidly. “Then we can talk.” Chan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. With a nod he led them both back to the house, keeping a gentle hand on her wrist as they walked. He needed the assurance that she was there, that she was safe.

She followed, letting him take the lead, slightly unsettled by how well he knew the way to her house. Part of her still didn’t believe him. But then again, she had just seen a man change into a dog or… wolf maybe, and she couldn’t explain that. She had never seen him before and yet he knew her dog, he knew where she lived, he had saved her. She wasn’t 100% sure, but something told her to trust him.

When they got to her house, she let them in and Chan pulled her inside, locking the door behind them before tucking her behind him as he scanned the room and tested the air inside the house for anything amiss. When he was satisfied that it was safe, he stepped further into the living room and headed towards the bathroom to care for his arm. He really knows where everything is, she thought as she watched him head there without hesitation. Stepping up to the sink he started running warm water, dipping his arm under the spigot to rinse it. He hissed as the water hit the wound, a tingling pain shooting outwards from it.

“Here,” she stepped up beside him, dampening her hands and lathering them so she could gently wash his wound. Chan sucked in a breath between his teeth at the sting. “Sorry,” she said softly.

“No, it’s okay,” he assured her. “I appreciate you helping me. I owe you my life twice over now.”

“Seems like both times it was because of me anyway so…” she didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on what her hands were doing.

“It’s not your fault,” Chan soothed. “We should have gotten him out of here long ago. He just… he keeps slipping away.”

“So what are you?” She asked as she patted his skin dry with a towel. 

“Werewolf,” he replied softly. “But I won’t hurt you.”

She nodded and pulled some gauze and tape out of the cabinet behind her. Kneeling down in front of him as he sat on the toilet, she spread some anti-infection cream over one of the wounds before putting gauze over it and taping it down. She did the same with the other side, then wrapped both with a sports wrap to keep it secure on his arm.

“What’s your name?” She asked, finally looking up at him.

“Chan,” he replied gently, reaching out to cup her cheek. “My name is Chan.”

“That fits better than Buck,” she gave him a nervous smile and laugh.

“God I love hearing my name on your lips,” he admitted. He leaned forward hesitantly, giving her a chance to pull away, taking her lips with a gentle firmness. She tasted like heaven, even better than he had dreamed those nights when he lay beside her in bed pretending to be her pet.

What am I doing, she asked herself, feeling a fuzzy, intoxication filling her brain as his lips pressed against hers. His tongue darted out against her bottom lip, begging her to open to him. Why did he taste so good, she wondered as she shivered under his touch. He was hardly the first guy she had kissed but he felt different and she didn’t understand it. She didn’t know him at all, despite the fact he seemed to have been living in her house for months.

“Love, I… I need,” Chan pulled back and stepped away from her. “We need to talk.”

“Sorry,” she leaned back, not meeting his eyes, wiping her lips to try and erase the distracting sensations.

“No, don’t apologize,” he soothed, reaching out to her. “I just need—” he broke off. “I need you to understand.”

“What do I need to understand?” she asked him, frustration coursing through her.

“You’re mine,” he said, taking her face in his hands. “I knew it the moment I saw you that you were supposed to be mine. I protect what’s mine. But I need you to choose me. I can wait. I can send someone else to stay here and protect you. Just… I need it to be your choice because once I have you. I’m not letting you go.”

She should have been afraid, she should have made him leave and run as far as she could as fast as she could. But something in her trusted him. No that wasn’t strong enough. Something said he was right, they were a part of each other.

“Okay,” she nodded as much as she could, still restricted by his hands on her face.

“What?” He asked, his eyes searching hers, trying to divine what she was saying.

“I understand,” Her hands came up to loosely grip his wrists, guiding his hands down from her face. She leaned forward, bringing her lips to his.

“Wait,” Chan took a step back, having to use all his willpower to do so. “You’re sure?” She nodded and his will broke. It had taken so much of him to pull away, to do the right thing. He hadn’t expected her to accept him and what he was. With a desperate hunger, he smashed his lips into hers as he lifted her and carried her to the bedroom. He already knew the place well enough he didn’t have to take his lips from hers as he took them both to her room. He tossed her onto the bed and crawled in over her, pressing her into the mattress with his body. He was pure muscle as he pressed himself against her, she could feel it even through the odd mismatched clothing he was still wearing.

“Chan,” she breathed when he shifted to kiss along her cheek.

“Say it again,” he groaned, grinding himself against her. “Say my name.”

“Chan,” her hand tangled in his hair, holding him close. He pulled back, only long enough to strip off the shirt and to slip the borrowed jeans off his hips. He covered her still clothed body with his, drawing her arms around his neck. She moaned underneath him, parting her thighs to let him settle between them.

“I think I’m a little overdressed,” she pointed out.

“I can fix that,” he grinned, rolling them both over. With hurried hands he pulled off her shirt and unhooked her bra before sliding it off her arms and tossing it across the room. His pupils widened as he took in her bare breasts. They looked soft and inviting and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to cup them. She giggled and covered his hands with hers. Sliding backwards off him, she unfastened her jeans and stepped out of them.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Chan propped himself up on his elbows and took all of her in with his gaze. Her hands lifted to cover herself and he sat up, grabbing her wrists to stop her. “Don’t hide…” he blushed slightly as he admitted it, “You’re so beautiful.” He pulled her down to straddle him, running his hand over her waist and thighs.

She leaned down, bringing her lips to his as his hands wandered over her body. He had thought about this moment for months. Being so near her and having her not notice him, not see him had been killing him. So close, yet so far. Every night when she changed for bed, he had done his best not to stare as she stripped and put on her pajamas, only peeking a few times. Everytime she wrapped her arms around him and cuddled into his fur as she went to sleep. He had wanted to change, to confess, to throw himself on her.

Now he had her holding him as his human hands wandered over her soft curves and it was even better than he had dreamed. She smelled like heaven. Like the forest in summer and fields of wildflowers. He wanted to take her in every way possible. Kissing along the side of her neck, he buried his face in her shoulder, pressing her body against his tightly. He wanted to taste her, to feel her flesh in his mouth, to see if she tasted as sweet as she smelled.

He knew why. It wasn’t that he wanted to eat her. The bite would mark her as his to any other wolf that might cross her path. It would meld them together according to their customs and the rules of the pack. The mark would claim her as his alone and give her the protection of the pack.

Breathing deeply, he fought the urge. He needed to do this right. I’m not an animal, he reminded himself, rolling over and moving them both to the center of the bed. Her pleasure had to come first.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. “I just want you to feel me.” She looked into his eyes for a second before nodding and closing her eyes as she laid on the bed beside him. Kissing her lips, he tasted her with a slow and lazy sense of leisure, reminding them both they had all night. He licked and nibbled at her lower lip, letting out an involuntary whine as he asked her to open to him. She parted her lips and let him in, still allowing him to set the pace, to guide her. His tongue thrust into her mouth with a hungry confidence. He devoured her like a sweet dessert, enjoying her taste with a slow deliberation. As he did, one hand played lightly over her chest and collarbone. His touch was as light a feather, teasing her with the contrast of sensations.

Leaving her lips, he slid himself down her body, dragging his lips and tongue over her neck to the center of her chest. He could hear her heart beating under her delicate rib cage, fluttering like a wounded bird. The sound stirred the animal inside him. Was she afraid? Her scent tickled his nose telling him that she was mostly aroused but underneath it was a faint sliver of fear. It wasn’t a fear of him, or at least not a real fear of him. It was the type of fear that makes a rollercoaster fun or that tickles your stomach when you stand near the precipice of a mountain and take in the wonder of the view. That frisson of a potential danger that was entirely unlikely, but not impossible. Looking up her body, he saw her bite her lip in anticipation of… something, of him.

He slid between her legs and moved lower on her body. He kissed and nipped at the flesh of her belly; so soft and vulnerable. The wolf in him loved that she trusted his teeth there. His wolf could have ripped that flesh with such ease and the fact that she trusted him like this made pleasure rippled through him. Moving lower, he settled himself between her thighs, lifting her legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Can I taste you?” He asked, nuzzling against her inner thigh.

“Yes,” she nodded, squeezing her eyes tightly as her hands fisted around the blanket beneath her.

“Show me what you like,” he instructed, licking a line up the slit of her body. “Let me know how to please you.” She nodded, her hands fidgeting with anticipation. “Baby girl, you can look at me now.”

Opening her eyes, she looked down the line of her body to see his hungry eyes fixed on her. Chan’s hand reached up to take hers as he held her hips down with the other, keeping eye contact as he made a testing thrust of his tongue into her. She gasped and squeezed his hand. Satisfaction settled in his chest and he threw himself into pleasing her as he read her body. He licked and nipped and sucked at her until she came apart underneath him with a strangled cry. She was beautiful and he had never felt as powerful as he did in that moment.

He needed to take her, to fill her with his seed until he was sure she would bare his child. An image of her, round with child, floated through his mind. Yes, the wolf inside him growled, take her. Chan slid up her body and positioned himself at her entrance as he pulled her into a kiss. She could taste herself on him as he stole her breath.

“Are you ready for me, baby girl?” He asked, brushing hair off her face.

“Yes,” she nodded, eyes hazy as she looked up at him. “Please, I want you in me.”

“I would give you anything you asked for,” He admitted, coaxing her thighs around his hips. “Have you… done this before?”

“Yeah,” she assured him. “Don’t worry.”

“Okay,” he nodded, a little relieved he wouldn’t have to hold back. Holding her face in his hands, he looked into her eyes as he curled his hips into hers with a slow deliberation. He watched as her face filled with wonder at the feel of his invasion. When he was finally seated fully inside her, he paused, taking a moment to enjoy the way her body stretched to accommodate him. It was like she was built to hold him.

“Can I move?” He asked softly, running the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“God, yes, please,” she nodded, digging her nails into the skin and muscles of his back. Smiling down at her and keeping eye contact, he pulled himself half way out before thrusting back inside her. She sighed at the delicious friction. His body felt so good inside her, felt like it belonged, or perhaps that they were becoming a part of each other. Chan moved slowly, relishing this moment. She shivered, her hands grasping at his wide shoulders as he moved.

“Please,” she said again. “I need more.”

“Anything for you,” he soothed, placing a few kisses across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. He pulled his hips back and plunged inside her, going as deeply as he could. Setting a steady rhythm, Chan buried his face in her neck as he began to let go and lose himself in the feeling. She filled every sense of his. Her smell, her feel, and the taste of her skin under his lips. Even her pants and moans filled him as they teased his ears in the quiet of the room. Her limbs held him close, gripping him like he was the only thing keeping her from falling. 

Pleasure rose inside him and he knew there was only so long he would last like this. He wanted to feel her come around him, feel her body milk him as she came beneath his touch again. Her heels hooked around the back of his thighs as she arched against him. The slight change in angle let him brush the sensitive spot inside her, making her quiver and gasp.

“Harder, there,” she begged, a desperation growing inside her.

“Are you close,” he questioned, his face tucked in against her neck.

“So close,” she whimpered, her nails raking his spine.

“Cum for me, baby girl,” Chan panted. “I need to hear you cum.” She whined and moved restlessly against him as the warm pleasure pooled in her stomach. He put his lips to the thrumming pulse of her throat.

“Chan,” her voice was barely a whisper when the knot of delight finally snapped inside her. As her body gripped him, he bit the flesh where her neck and shoulders met marking her as his. The shock of pain melded with her orgasm sending a cascade of sensations through her. With a final thrust he came inside her, filling her body with his emissions. He stayed like that until he felt her move restlessly beneath him and only then, reluctantly pulled out and moved to curl up beside her on the bed.

Her hand went to the bite on her neck. It still stung slightly but not nearly as much as she thought it should. Chan splayed a hand over her stomach, rubbing it in small circles.

“Are… are you okay,” he asked, looking at her lovingly as he laid beside her.

“Yes,” she nodded, taking her hand from her neck. “I didn’t expect you to bite me.”

“Just this once,” he promised, pulling himself closer to her. “It marks you as mine, gives you the protection of my pack. You’ll carry a little of my scent now.”

“Oh,” she blushed and looked at him. “Am I supposed to feel different? I don’t feel any different.”

“No,” he chuckled and smiled at her. “It’s something only my kind would notice.” She nodded and laced her fingers with his where they laid on her stomach.

“Did you do it so that he, whoever he is, would know?” She questioned. “Was this all just to, I don’t know, put him off?”

“No, although I would be happy if it did,” He gave her an adoring look. “This was because you were meant to be mine. Meant to be the mother of my babies; to be by my side for as long as we live.”

“So you want children,” she laughed.

“I want to see you filled with my child,” he admitted, his eyes going to where his hand lay on her. “I want to see it grow inside you. I want to raise it with you, watch it grow into someone as beautiful as you are.”

“Someday,” she nodded. “But I’ve been on birth control, so I don’t think we could just yet.”

“The bond,” he explained. “When I claimed you with my mark, it sort of…” he paused, searching for the right wording. “It opens you to me.”

“Oh,” she blinked at him a few times, trying to process what he was saying. “Even if we just… this one time?”

“Maybe,” he furrowed his brow slightly. “If  you don’t want, at least not yet,” sitting up, he moved to help her walk to the bathroom. “We can try to clean you out, maybe prevent it.”

“No, it’s just a lot to adjust to,”  she explained. “A lot has sort of happened since this morning.”

“I know, baby girl,” he laid down again and pulled her into a spooning position against him. “Let’s go to sleep for now and figure out the rest in the morning.”

Over the next few days neither of them left the house. She called in sick to work, not wanting to put either of them in danger by going out to a place he could so easily find and potentially corner her. Even with Changbin there, with so many people and such a big space, it would be possible to miss him, or at the very least, to not notice him until it was too late. Instead his pack mates came over to plan their next move. Chan spent most of his time planning with Minho and Changbin, setting patrol schedules and scout missions for everyone. Hyunjin was assigned the duty to investigate at the hotel and talk to the woman who had been mauled. Maybe it wasn’t a random coincidence that he had picked her, Felix had suggested after their second meeting. After all, if he was just looking to hurt people and just stir up trouble here, why target her? Sure it could have been a coincidence if he had just been foiled and chosen another target, but he hadn’t.

The suggestion had made Chan go cold. It made sense, but what had made him target her? There wasn’t something particularly special about her, except that she was his mate, but even he hadn’t known that yet. Was it possible the loner had some way of knowing even before Chan did? As far as they knew, it wasn’t possible to know but, still the thought lingered.

As the meeting was drawing to a close, Chan’s phone rang. Hyunjin was calling him from the hospital where he had gone to talk to the other victim.

“Chan?” There was a slight edge of panic to Hyunjin’s voice as he spoke.

“What’s the matter?” Chan asked the other boy, worried immediately by his tone.

“She’s… she’s my mate,” Hyunjin whispered into the phone.

“What?” Chan had a sudden sinking feeling in his chest. He stood up, needing to see his mate, to touch her and know that she was there and fine. He found her sitting at the table in the kitchen, snacking on something as she read.

“I’ve never met her before,” Hyunjin started to explain. “But I felt it the moment I walked into her room. She was just lying there, still sleeping, so hurt, and it just hit me. Her scent and just her presence; I know she’s mine.”

“How did he know?” Chan asked, pulling his own mate against him as he spoke.

“I don’t know, but this can’t be a coincidence,” Hyunjin insisted.

“I know,” Chan agreed.

“Look,” Hyunjin sighed. “I can’t leave her alone here. I have to stay for now.” Chan understood, letting him stay with the promise to send someone else to keep watch over her tomorrow so he could get some rest and come back to discuss what to do next.

“I hate this,” Chan said, as he sat at the cafe a block away from the craft store.

“We can hear everything that is happening,” Jisung assured him. “She’ll be fine, but we need him to come out.”

“I know,” He shifted in his seat. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They spent the afternoon waiting, and waiting, and waiting. Over an open line, Chan, Jisung, Changbin and Jeongin listened as she went about her day like everything was fine and normal. She helped customers, stocked shelves, and worked at the register, all while Chan was on the edge of his chair, waiting for something to happen. But, it seemed, it was all for nothing. The sun set and the store closed and seemingly all was well. She locked the front door and set about closing everything down by herself.

Chan relaxed a little, hearing her calm humming as she closed down the register and counted out the money in the back of the store. After the money was counted and locked in the safe, she just had to make one last pass through of the store to make sure no one had left something behind or left a mess and then she could head home. Over the radio, Changbin and Jeongin started joking around, getting playful after a tense day. Everyone was relaxing, at least until a loud crack broke over the mic followed by her surprised squeal. The jokes stopped and everyone froze.

“I know you all are out there,” the loner’s self-satisfied voice cut through the silence. “Don’t worry. I won’t make her suffer, but sadly, you will.”

Before the words were even finished coming out of the loner’s mouth, Chan was up, running as fast as he could to the store. He had to get in, he had to protect her. Jisung was on his heels as they ran across the street and into the strip mall parking lot.

“Why?” She asked, her voice slightly strained.

“Why should he have you when my mate was stolen from me?” He growled.

“What did they have to do with that?” She asked, keeping him busy for as long as possible. If he was explaining things, he wasn’t killing her.

“Nothing,” he admitted, dragging her towards the back door. “But neither did anyone in the last three territories I went through. This one was the first one that figured out it was me though.”

“What the hell is the matter with you,” she spat. “You think you can take something from others just because it happened to you?”

“Why should I be the only one who has to be alone?” He demanded, pushing her against the wall by her neck.

“The only one,” she scoffed, realizing this was probably not the ideal way to handle this, but she couldn’t help it. “You know most people don’t have some beacon to tell them who they are supposed to be with. Even those who do, people lose the people they love all the time. Car accidents, illness, crime, no one needs your help suffering, you selfish, shitty person.”

“What do you know,” he hissed back. 

“I know that your mate was lucky not to have had to spend a lifetime with someone who would do this,” she challenged. “No one deserves that.”

Shock and rage vied for dominance in his expression as he stared at her. He made a sound of pure rage and pulled back a hand to strike her. Never having been the sort to just lay down and give up, she kicked out catching the side of his knee. It didn’t really hurt him, but it was enough to unbalance him and make him catch himself, giving her the chance to break out of his grip. She knew she wouldn’t get far, he was faster and stronger, so she just tried to get as close as she could to where Chan and the others were. They would come, she had faith.

The loner came up, grabbing her from behind. “I’m glad, even if this is the last thing I do, I’m not just denying him his mate, but I’ll take his child, too.”

On the other side of the glass door, Chan felt half a second of numbing terror. He had to get inside, for both of them. Changbin picked up a part of a broken concrete curb stop and smashed it against the window, cracking the safety glass into a million little pieces, still stuck together by the coating, but weakened. He hit it again, opening a hole the size of a fist, and again, until the tear in the inner plastic layer got bigger. Impatiently, and perhaps a little recklessly, Chan covered his hand with his jacket sleeve and tore at the shattered glass. Finally the hole was big enough and he crawled through onto the display on the other side of the glass. He had to find her.

Their scuffling was audible and he found them quickly, rolling on the floor a few aisles into the store. She had curled into a ball, only moving to thwart his attempts to move her or drag her further to the back of the store. They all leapt on him, pulling him off her and dragging him away before they made sure he could never hurt another person. Chan stayed with her, trying to get her off the floor where she lay. He needed to hold her, make sure she was okay, make sure the loner hadn’t done anything to her that needed an ambulance.

She peeked out from under her arm, checking who it was before throwing herself into his arms. Relief coursed through her like she had never felt before. She breathed his name and threw her hands around his neck. Pulling her to his chest, he held her close for a moment before pulling her back to get a better look at her. Bruises were blooming on her neck and wrists, but that seemed to be the most serious injuries inflicted upon her.

“Baby girl,” he looked into her eyes, trying to find the words to express how sorry he was he hadn’t been there.

“I knew you would come,” she assured him.

“I will always come for you,” he promised, his hand dropping to her stomach. “For both of you. I will always protect my loves with everything I have.” Over the past few days he had been so preoccupied with their hunt and their planning that he hadn’t noticed the subtle change in her scent.

“How do you know,” she shook her head. “I don’t feel any different.”

“Nothing much, just a little change in your scent… hormones and all that,” He smiled and shrugged. It wasn’t really something a person could sense themselves. “Are you happy? I know this has been… too much.”

“I am,” she nodded. “I may not have chosen this way to meet you and fall into your world, but I don’t think I can imagine ending up anywhere else.”

“You’re mine,” he assured her. “And there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do just to see you smile.”

Masterlist

[timeforelfnonsense]

Bound

Dafni x Astartion || Rating: E (very spicy: See Ao3 tags for a run down ) || Ao3 || Sunshine & Starlight: My on going bg3 series  

Notes: Sub & dom Astarion all in one fic? Maybe so. Shadowheart's off-handed line about the PC tying her up if she started to turn inspired this filth (I'm sure she'd be loathed to know that). I'm also a fan of the sexy misuse of spells and hadn't written femme dom in a while. It was a perfect storm. Evlish Translations: Qu tel sy- Bindings of the wilds

Astarion watched Dafni’s dainty fingers casually trace an arcane pattern in the empty space before her. 

“Qu tel sy” Her voice wavered a bit in its attempt at sounding commanding. 

Cute.

Tendrils of jasmine vine sprung from the earth below him winding up his biceps binding him at the wrist. He’d heard her make a sharp quip about tying Shadowheart up that afternoon. The comment had worked his way into his mind. He was normally much more interested in taking the lead but the idea of playful, defiant Dafni taking control was rather enticing. A fantasy worth indulging in at least once. 

“Comfy?” She asked, her head tilting to one side. 

“Very.” 

With a nod, she began to leisurely undress herself. His hungry gaze followed her dainty fingers as they came to the tan leather straps that kept her breastplate fastened. She took her time with each buckle admiring the tiny floral etchings as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. Slowly she shrugged herself free. Carefully laying it down beside her long sword and bow. Next, she set herself to the thin metal plates that protected her knees, removing them and adding them to the neat pile. 

“You are taking forever, Daffodil.” He complained.

“I could go slower?” She retorted leaning over as she slid her hands down her thigh to her cave. 

“No. No, take your time I’ll just be making a mental note of what a terrible pricktease you are being.”

Dafni rolled her eyes, tugging off her boots. Her fingers toyed with the laces of her breaches before moving to the pearl buttons at the wrist of her tapered bell sleeve. 

“I’ve been thinking about something you said the other day.” She mused, halting her undressing once more, “Can you really not see your own reflection?” Astarion let out a frustrated breath. He should have expected her to drag it out. The little puck! Really he’d walked right into this. He tried to pull his hands free of their bindings so he could have her and be done with this gods’ damned teasing but she only waved her hand casually, causing the vines to pull him firmly to the ground. “My, my someone is impatient! I believe I asked a question?” 

“I really can’t.” 

“So, you don’t know what you look like?” She inquired. 

“I’m sure right now I look rather annoyed.” He quipped back.

“I’m being serious.” 

Oh no. 

Not the pout! 

Her lower lip jut out ever so slightly. Her eyebrows began to stitch and his heart threatened to melt into a puddle. He was certain she knew he’d cave if she gave him that look. He had been able to resist when they’d first met but lately that quivering lip was a sure-fire path to getting her way.

“Ugh- Alright! I'll indulge you! Little brat...” He said with a stroppy huff, “I have a general idea of how I looked before. Lacking any evidence to the contrary, I just assume I look amazing.” 

“Dear me!” She tuted with a chime of silver-toned laughter, “So cocksure. You satisfied my curiosity-” A coy smile flashed across her face, “For now anyway. I think that deserves a reward.”

She brought her hands behind her neck unbuttoning collar, tugging her blouse over the top of her head. Astarion gave a weak attempt at silencing a low snicker as the fabric got caught on the long line of her ears in her haste. An adorable pink bloomed across the apples of her rounded cheeks. Her fingers returned to the satin ribbon at the front of her pants once more, shimmying her wide, seductive hips as she slipped them off. 

His breath caught in his chest as he drank her in. She was eternal in the warm candlelight. A goddess all his own. Plump curves. Full breasts. Her loose curls cascading down her back like a river of rose petals. Freckles like flecks of gold covering her soft, kissable skin. She looked like a dream, dressed in nothing but her smalls and the crescent pendant that hung from her neck. The cool evening air danced across her bare sink prompting a tiny shiver from Dafni. Her nipples hardened as goosebumps broke out across her exposed skin. 

“You are outstandingly beautiful, to confirm your suspicions.” She hummed straddling his hips. He could feel her warm core against his length through the thin fabric of her panties. He pressed himself against her, rocking slowly against her cotton clad folds. She gave a delighted squeak, wiggling against the solid pressure of his erection. “ I wish I could draw so you could see for yourself. Unfortunately, I’m hopeless with bush and canvas. I am quite good with gab, however. I could paint you a picture with words instead? Would you like that?”  

He’d be lying if he claimed to have never been curious about his own appearance. He had a few memories of his mortal countenance. But like the majority of his past time and torment had left them hazy and abstract. He’d definitely had a little more color in life. He could recall being fair but not quite so cadaverously pale. His eyes would have been the most severe change, save the fangs. He’d seen the same haunting scarlet in the irises of every vampiric creature he’d met. He flitted through his thoughts trying to recall their previous color. Knowing Dafni she’d eventually ask him, if not now later on one of her whimsical larks. He was somewhat sure they had been green? Her offer seemed more and more appealing as his mind shifted through faint, crumbing memories. It would be fascinating to hear what parts of him she’d taken particular notice of. Moreover, Dafni had the remarkable ability to see the absolute best in everything. His appearance would likely be much the same and what man wouldn’t want the object of his desire to spoil him with compliments? 

“Go on.” He affirmed with another eager roll of his hips against the growing wetness between her legs.

“Very well. You have a strong, angular jaw and perfect cheekbones. You have a little birthmark riiiiiight- Here!” Dafni explained, noting the spot on his cheek with a peck, “You have the most heartbreakingly handsome grin I’ve ever seen. Your nose is very straight. I can tell you weren’t in many bar fights!” She giggled, tapping the tip of his nose with her index finger. Astarion scrunched his nose in response prompting another musical laugh from Dafni. Followed by a long, slow kiss to his lips. He slid the edge of his tongue along the seam of her lips. A dissatisfied curse escaped him as she pulled back. Dafni only continued to beam with bemusement at his wanting.  She brought a hand to a stray lock of hair that had fallen into his face. She wound the curl around her fingertip before sliding her fingers through his hair. Tugging softly at the root as she pushed it back. “Your hair is the color of moonlight. Your eyes are my favorite, though. So striking… The color of fine claret. Expressive too! If I want to know your mood I can always see it in your eyes. Or by the tips of your ears. They go pink when you are flustered. It’s faint but I’ve spent enough time admiring you to notice.” She nibbled his ear to emphasize her point, drawing a quiet whimper from Astarion. She kissed her way back down his body pausing on the hollow of his neck and collar bones. “You’ve always reminded me of the statues of the first elves we had in Peleira. Awe-inspiring figures cut from marble and alabaster. Trim and regal just like you.” She slid off his hips, kidding each rib on the right side of his body before settling between his thighs. Her soft hand wrapping around his member. A needy growl fell from his lips as she began her lazy pumping. She let out a playful chime of laughter before running her tongue along the underside of his shaft. “And of course your cock is absolutely glorious! So long with a slight curve that hits all my secret places. While I’m not the inexperienced maiden you hilariously mistook me for but, you do make me feel as if I were. You make sex feel new and exciting, Astarion. You make my life exciting all around. Normally my fancies come and go with haste, but I can’t imagine myself ever growing bored with you. I’ve never had a lover hold my attention as you do.”

Her adoring plaudits were overwhelming. Each comment was painfully sincere. Her free hand drifted between her own legs. The licentious mewls she made as her fingers toyed with herself made him even harder. His mind was swimming with desire. He wanted nothing more than to plunge into her snug, wet sheath. She must have seen the hunger in his expression. His body went taut as he felt her soft lips around him. Gods he wanted to touch her! To sink his fingers into her soft curls while she worshiped his cock. His hips bucked against her mouth as instinct took over. The sweet vibration of her giggle sending a shiver down his spine. He almost didn’t notice the feeling of more plant life ensnaring him, ankle to the shin. He could feel himself swiftly approaching the brink as she teases his tip.

“Daffodil…” His voice came out in a strained whisper, “You’ll need to stop soon. I’d still like to have you in other ways.” With a hum of understanding, she removed him from her mouth with a soft pop. Her thumbs hooked the edges of her underwear removing it in one quick movement. His wrist strained against his bindings as he attempted to reach for her hips. “Wait a moment. I want to taste you first.”

“You want me to unbind you?” She asked.

“I didn’t say that.” He chuckled a playful half-smile on his lips.

“Oh.”

Dafni’s belly flipped when she heard his request. The embers of confidence smothered by her own insecurities. She’d had her fair share of lovers between her thighs but she’d never like...That. Astarion was so lithe. She didn’t want to smother him! 

“You can say no, darling.” He reassured, “However if you are worried about hurting me, don’t be.”

Nibbling her lower lip as a hot flush broke out across her naked body. “How did you know?” 

“You have the same needlessly embarrassed look on your face as you did when I picked you up in the forest.” He sighed, continuing, “It's fairly common anxiety as well. I promise I’ll be perfectly fine. Besides if you accidentally suffocate me you’ll have to go fetch an emergency revivify scroll from Shadowheart and the thought of her reaction when you told her how I died is positively delightful!” 

Dafni tried to hold in her laughter but it came out in a snort, “You are awful! What if she wanted to see your body?”

“Gods, I hope she would! Can you imagine her shock? Finding me all tressed up in jasmine after meeting my untimely end betwixt your gorgeous thighs!” He stated with a mirthful grin, “This all hypothetical of course. I fully expect you’ll be the only one to experience a little death from sitting on my face.”

Dafni felt her nerves steadying with his gentle taunting. She couldn’t decide if she was touched or mortified that he’d taken note of her insecurities. She’d never voiced them but he had been perspective enough to notice the little changes in her demeanor. He had a knack for catching on to the little things other people tried to hide. Part of the ‘wiles’ that had kept him alive for the past few centuries. She supposed his perceptiveness was the flip side of his secretary. Both had been informed by a difficult life.

She brushed her lips against his. Their foreheads pressed against one another. “Alright.”

Dafni steeled herself as she settled her thighs on either side of him. Ever so slowly she lowered herself towards his smirking mouth. 

Oh wow.

All the worry slipped away with the first pass of his cool tongue along her slit. A lewd gasp broke free from her as he sealed his lips over her clit. Sucking and teasing her to delirium. Her hips grew a will of their own rocking forward, chasing the electrifying sensation. Her squirming only seemed to embolden him. His attention shifted to the mouth of her arousal. His tongue eagerly exploring her dripping center. Her confidence returning with each dizzying lick. She thought she’d feel ridiculous perched on top of him. The sight of Astarion happily ravaging her with his mouth left her feeling empowered and needy.

“Gods that’s good!” She whimpered rutting against him, “I-Wow… I kind of want to keep you here a forever.” She tugged at the roots of his soft curls pulling him deeper into her arousal. Promoting a delighted purr from Astarion as he continued to lap away at her quim. “Keep going! I’m so close...Ah! Astarion! Please! More!” A few more skillful sweeps of his tongue and the hot coil of building pleasure snapped loose. She hadn’t meant for the lamentation that followed to come out at such a high volume. She normally tried to be courteous of their friends. It was close quarters and they would likely not enjoy her keening half as much as Astarion did. She bit down her lip quieting another cry as the tempest of exaltation mixed with the sharp sensation of his teeth on her inner thigh. After a few swallows, he brushed his lips over the wound in a chaste kiss. She climbed down from her seat, flopping down on his cool chest. Her breath coming out in ragged heaves. “That was life-changing.”

She glanced up finding him staring with even more hunger than usual. His chin shimmering with slick. Lips stained red by her blood and his eyes alight with impatient longing.

“Years of practice.” He stated with a wicked grin, “Now if you’d be kind enough to free me, Daffodil? If I don’t have my way with you this instant, I might be driven mad.” 

She nodded climbing off his chest to receive one of his daggers from his things. She carefully cut away the blossoms and vines that held him prone. As soon as the blade cleared the twist of greenery, he pounced, laying her out on her stomach.  Dafni let out a peal of amusement, propping herself up slightly on her elbows. Astarion ran his finger along her slit, causing her to shiver. A dark, desirous sound rumbled in his chest as he sunk two fingers into her, “Still a little sensitive, are we? There is still nectar dripping from your flower down the back of your legs. I knew you’d enjoy your little ride. I certainly did. You’re so beautiful when you come undone. Squirming and squealing. Though, I wonder what the others will say now that they’ve heard you screaming my name like a trollop?” He let out a moan as Dafni clenched around his pumping fingers, “Should we see if I can get you to do it again?” 

Dafni cried out as he impaled her with one urgent push. His hips met her’s with a smack before he withdrew almost completely. She whined at the emptiness, relief washing over her as he resheathed himself with another unyielding shove. It seemed being unable to touch her had inspired a carnal frustration he was desperate to satisfy. He gathered her loose hair up in one hand, yanking her back as he continued to pound into her. He hissed as Dafni brought her thighs closer together, savoring the hardness of his length inside her. 

“Tell me again, tart.” He demanded wrenching her back to look at him, “Tell me how I make you feel like a vestal maid with my ‘glorious cock’.” 

“For you, I am reduced to a lusty, untouched damsel.” She confirmed pushing her backside against him.

“Indeed you are.” He released his grip on her curls, bringing his hands to rest on the swell of her hip tugging her even closer.

He growled his approval before sinking his teeth into the warm hollow of her throat. With each sip, she felt his heart fall into step with her own. It was a strange sort of intimacy that felt a bit metaphorical. Cold, wicked, Astarion’s undead heart lurching to life. Beating in perfect time with her own as she coursed through him. Dafni knew it was a silly, romantic notion but that could hardly be helped. Especially when he was ravaging her with such vigor. Her second climax flourished as he pressed himself against her just so. She convulses under him, tears streaming down her cheeks. Astarion tore himself away from her neck, incarnadine eyes burning ravenous with a mix of thirst and fearsome wanton need. 

He shouldn’t have bitten her again. It was a rash, risky choice, especially when he was already frenzied with lust. That first taste from her thigh had been the most exquisite yet. The sweetness of her blood mingling with the earthy tang of her slick had been transcendent. The soft, sunny, joy he’d experienced when feeding on her in the past had been replaced with a blinding exaltation that had nearly finished him off untouched. If the first bite had been transcendent the second had felt like finding himself in Arvandor itself. It took no small amount of will power to chase off his instinct to drink her dry.

As he beheld her writhing, buxom form an admission rushed out of him, “I never want anyone else to touch you again.”

Never?

Oh, gods, that was a fool thing to say! 

“I’m spoiled for all others.” She assured, “No one else could please me as you do.”

Her words ignited something base in him, pushing him to the edge. With a final crude thrust, he found his rapture, flooding her snug, soaking, heat with his release. All the while his thoughts rang loud with one word.

Mine.

 He lingered behind her for a while, his chest heaving and heart racing. He knew he must be a flustered mess and he didn’t really want her to see him like that. He’d already shown her too much. He squeezed his eyes shut. Composing himself before laying out beside Dafni.

 When his eyes fluttered back open he took stock of the scene before him. Dafni’s expression was somewhere between dazed and ecstatic. The wound on her neck was still dripping red. The one on her thigh had closed, turning a deep purple. His seed seeped from her entrance. His chest went tight, his cheeks a deep red. She was well and truly debauched.  

“Daffodil?” He said softly as he placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, “Are you ok, dear?” 

She blinked a few times before nodding, “I’m ok! Just a little woozy and overwhelmed, maybe? Kind of floaty.”

“Completely fair. That was...A lot. I might have gotten a bit carried away. Apologies.” He brushed the loose hair from her shoulder to get a better look at the puncture on her neck, “If you feel faint, you should eat something. Tell me what you’d like and I’ll fetch it from the camp’s stores?”

“Some water would be nice and maybe an orange? I think we have some left from the druids.” Dafni turned to her side, cozying up beside him. She looked up at him through curling pink lashes. Her mossy brown eyes expressing an uncharacteristic shyness. “After I have my snack, could maybe I stay with you again tonight? You can say no! I won’t be offended. I understand that you like your space and I don't want to be clingy! I-I’m just feeling a little vulnerable after all that and I don’t think I could handle a walk of shame right now…” 

It always stung to hear that she expected him to throw her out as soon as the deed was done. He supposed she had every right to after his attempt to leave her alone in the woods that first night. It should have been clear to her he enjoyed her company by now. Hadn’t she noticed all of the parts of himself he’d conceded to her? He’d told her about Cazador- Not everything but more than he thought he’d be willing to share with another person. He let her linger in his personal space and hold his hand almost constantly. He watched out for her when she was too blinded by her own generosity to do it herself. He had even admitted how important her well being had become to his own! And still, she assumed he’d toss her out into the night. 

“Of course you can stay,” He scowled tuting his disapproval as he spoke, “I just assumed you would start staying with me after I invited you to the other night. Apparently, I should have been more clear. Unless I tell you otherwise, you are always welcome to stay with me, Daffodil. So please stop acting as if I’m some cold-hearted dastard? It’s offensive and it bruises my ego.” 

“You mean it?” She chirped a blinding grin across her winsome features, “I can stay here whenever?”

He groaned, “Yes. I know you don’t like trancing alone and I like having you around. It makes sense for us to share quarters. If I need space I’m sure you’ll know. Now I’m going to get your food and water before you swoon from bloodloss or over-excursion.” 

[renee-writer]

An Invisible Thread Chapter 21 Mr. and Mrs. Fraser

She stands before the full length mirror, a bride. On pure white, lace, silk, and taffeta. Jenny had found it in a shop in Inverness. Everyone had done their jobs well and now it is finally the day. She will be Claire Fraser soon. Making official something that has been a fact for quite awhile now.

 

“You are so beautiful.” Her mum says. The tears she can’t hold back drip down her face. Thank God for waterproof make-up.

 

“Thank you mum. I can’t believe this day is finally here.”

 

“Finally?” a laugh as she takes a seat at the vanity table in the Laird’s room that is being used as a bride’s room. It will be a wedding night room also, a fact that makes Claire flush with embarrassment and anticipation.

 

“I have loved Jamie since I was two and knew I would marry him since I was eleven and we shared a first kiss. So, yes finally.”

 

“I can’t argue with that. Mary and Willy have the baby ready. He is so precious. Not,” she adds, “that I wish you making me a grandma anytime soon.”

 

“I have been on the pill for a month now. We are good.” Her eyes drift to the bed and she flushes again.

 

“That type of pre-planning is very responsible. You two are so young but, the responsibility you are showing makes me think the others are right. That you are ready for this.”

 

“We are truly.”

 

“For all of it?” Again she flushes. She wants him and badly. But the actual act, especially the first time, well, it was a bit intimating.

 

“I am a bit concerned about tonight.  We have been good. Not done that. Things but..”

 

Her mum smiles. They thought so, her and Ellen, but to have it confirmed. Now to help her daughter. “Claire, the stuff you two have done, did it feel pleasurable?” Her flush deepened. She nods. “Brilliant. Tonight do a lot of what you have been doing then move on to other things, eventually coming to together. You will know when it is time. It will sting a bit, but, if you find pleasure before, it won’t be to bad. Also, urinate before and after. Trust me. You don’t want a honeymoon bladder infection.”

 

“Ah, thanks mum.” She takes a seat on the edge of the bed. Her dad will be here within minutes. They will follow Geillis and Willy, and Mary carrying William down as a ring bearer.  Her mum will push the wheelchair as Claire holds her dad’s hand. A bit unconventional but a way for both her parents to walk her down the aisle.

 

“Oh my beautiful daughter.” Henry calls out when he wheels himself in a few minutes later.

 

“Isn’t she exquisite?” Julia replies.

 

“She is.”

 

“All ready dad?”

 

“Yes. Your procession is all lined up. William is so bloody cute in his tiny kilt.”

 

“Brilliant. And Jamie?”

 

“Well, I can’t tell you what he is wearing but you will soon see. He awaits you.” She lets out her breath and stands, soothing her gown out. Her mum adds the veil and they step out.  They head to the lift that the Fraser’s had added for Henry and head downstairs.  Her bridal party waits at the door that leads to the back garden.

 

“You are a vision Claire. My brother is a blessed man.” Willy comments.

 

“As you and Mary. William is the cutest baby I have ever seen.”

 

“Thank you Claire and for including him in the ceremony.” Mary softly says.

 

“You’re welcome.”

 

“Ready hen?” Geillis asks. She nods before replying.

 

“Very. I have been for years.”

 

The music starts. The Wedding Song( Where there is Love) and her heart speeds up as Mary and William step out. She smiles at the sounds of awe from their guests at the sight of the baby. Geillis squeezes her hand before threading her arm through Willy’s and stepping out next.

 

Claire takes a deep breath and takes her dad’s hand. The music swells at the lyrics, “a man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home”. Their cue. Julia takes her husband’s chair and they step out.  A trellis covered with flowers cover them as they walk down the aisle. It is beautiful but all Claire sees is her groom.

 

Her Fire Jamie is a Highland Viking Warrior, with his kilt, high boots, sword and dirk, linen white shirt, tartan held over his shoulder with a broach engraved with the family motto. He is magnificent.  By the look on his face, he thinks the same about her.

 

They move slowly, to slowly, as the music continues. “A woman draws her life from man and gives it back to him. And there is love.”  A few more steps and they are in front of Jamie.

 

The music stops and the priest smiles at them. “Who gives this woman to be married to this man?”

 

She hears her dad utter ‘woman?’ under his breath before he answers, “Her mum and I do.” He then takes the hand he still tightly holds and places it in Jamie’s.  Julia wheels him back towards the chairs and she is his. Her soon-to-be husband’s. It is a bittersweet moment.

 

She smiles at him as his warm hands enclose over hers. “I love you.” She mouths as the good father begins to tell their guests why they are gathered together.

 

“I love you.” He mouths back.

 

“Now the couple have vows they wish to pledge to each other.” He says after they have said the traditional ones. “Claire.”

 

“From the time I was your Curly Care,” a twitter of laughter runs through their guests. She, focused on him, talking only to him, continues, “I knew there was a bond between us, even if at two I was unable to express it. Being away from you was like being away from family. Finding you again at ten was coming home. I knew then we were more then mates. With our first kiss, I knew we were heading here. Jamie, you have been my second home, my soulmate, and now you will be my husband. I love you more then words can say and will as long as our souls exist.”

 

The laughter was now soft sobs as Jamie tells her, “So Fire Jamie and Curly Care finally made it here. I knew it too, as soon as I so you that day 16 years ago. I was inconsolable when my Curly Care wasn’t there at kindergarten. But, even then, I knew, knew, that someway, somehow we would come back together.  That the bond wouldn’t be broken. So, I was awed but not surprised when you returned. I did vow I wouldn’t lose you again. Now you stand here pledging to be mine forever and it is as it should be. As it was fated to be. Te agam ort, Claire. Forever.”

 

There isn’t a dry eye among their guests as they exchange rings. As Brian binds their wrist for the older part of the ceremony.

 

“You are blood of my blood and bone of bone. I give you my body so us two may be one. I give you my spirit until our life’s be done.” They pledge.

 

“May I present Mr. and Mrs. Faster. Kiss you two.” They do, tasting each other’s tears as their family and friends cheer.  He lifts her up and carries her back down the aisle to the laughter and cheers of the others.

 

The cake is perfect for them as the side, on each layer, shows a couple from weans until their wedding day, growing up and growing closer. Their story.  They carefully cut into it and feed each other. They dance, together and with her dad and his mam. They are toasted and feed. Claire throws her bouquet which Geillis catches. Jamie her garter, after removing it with a blush. He tosses it to Angus. Pictures are taken.

 

“We are leaving,” Jamie announces after a few hours. “You guys are welcome to stay as long as you like. Thank you for all you have done for Claire and I. We love you guys.”  

 

He takes her hand and they head to the house. Bird seed and bubbles follow after them.

[thoughtfullyrainynightmare]

Third chapter of my OC fic ^_^ 

With this chapter, Solara will have met all of the Vermillion siblings. But she will also have to face her own unexplained emotions, which she tries to deny. 😉

This series will have mature content so reader discretion is advised.

Words: 4940

Chapter 3

Solara sat by the desk, slowly familiarizing herself with the documents and lingo used, making notes for herself of the formatting and writing down phrases she still needed to run by someone, in order to be certain of their meaning. She stopped only to rub her temples every now and then, giving her brain time to process all of the information that came her way. Hours ticked away but she barely noticed, until she struggled to grasp even simple sentence structures and she concluded to herself that perhaps she ought to stop for the day.

It was then that the door swung open, Mereo standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip, and a raised eyebrow.

“You still here?” Her tone was a strange combination of disappointment, amusement and disbelief, which in its absurdity made Solara chuckle.

“Well, it’s not like you really showed me around the base anyways, so I figured that someone was bound to show up eventually. Besides, I had a decent amount of time to collect some notes and phrases that I need to-“.

“Give it a rest,” Mereo interrupted while crossing her arms.

Silence fell between them as Solara put down the paper she was holding, frowning to Mereo, who close her eyes and sighed.

“We both need to eat something,” she remarked, her gaze directed blankly ahead of her, into the depths of the burgundy carpet. “And I was thinking that we’d make a small detour and go see my brothers before doing so,” she continued, her tone growing more silent.

Solara’s frown melted as sorrow veiled over her complexion at the sight of her friend. “Of course. I suppose one is long overdue,” she said, smiling to Mereo with softness as she got up from the desk.

Mereo’s gazed focused on her, lips curling up just enough to notice; their agreement being in the silent gaze they shared. But as they turned to leave, Solara wasn’t quite sure if she actually heard Mereo murmur under her breath with gritted teeth: “They should’ve told me sooner,” or if it was just a figment of her imagination as she couldn’t picture her beast of a friend murmuring anything.

She glanced to Mereo from the corner of her eye, searching for any signs of confirmation for what she supposedly had just heard. Mereo’s expression had fallen back to that of a blank stare into distance, a telling sign of her being deep in thought. I think… She probably thought out loud. A careful smile rose back to Solara’s lips as Mereo started leading her forward without a word. She’s not blaming herself, I know that much, but whoever it is that didn’t inform her of the situation faster than this… Well, I feel sorry for the poor soul.

---

As they walked down the corridor, only the sounds of their steps echoed from the walls. During their travels there had been many silences that had fallen between them, but none had borne the weight of this one. Mereo’s gaze was on the floor, and though her expression was stern and unwavering, it spoke of her worry. Solara knew that Mereo was the type to never show even the slightest traces of weakness, but she wasn’t made of stone. She had feelings just like everyone else, and this, this was her sorrow. It was woven into the unsaid words that hung in the air, and hidden behind her eyes that now seemed distant.

They reached a door, but before Mereo could open it, Solara placed her hand on Mereo’s shoulder. A soft smile emerged on Solara’s lips; her eyes instead filled with grief as they looked at each other for a moment that seemed longer than what it must’ve actually been. The frown on Mereo’s expression softened and a careful smile tugged the corners of her lips as well, while her other hand curled into a fist. Mereo turned to face Solara, nudging her onto her shoulder with the said hand, before taking a hold of the handle with the other.

Solara only nodded in reply, letting go of Mereo as she opened the door.

Leo was standing next to the bed with a blank expression, sunlight cascading into the room from the window, under which laid a figure. Solara looked at the young lion as his eyes still lingered on his brother, while Mereo closed the door.

The pair of green eyes finally turned to look at them, giving the two a stern gaze that lacked his former enthusiasm and cheerfulness. All of which was more than understandable, but still filled Solara with melancholy.

Mereo only nodded to her brother as she walked over to the bed, the two siblings standing on opposite sides of the bed like guardians to their brother. Silence hung heavy over them as neither had anything to say, or perhaps too much to say.

Solara saw Leo’s hand curling into a fist, and by instinct she moved closer to him from the foot of the bed. But as she did so, she felt another tug deep in her chest. As if pulled by threads of silken cobweb, her eyes turned to the figure that laid in the bed, and nothing could have prepared her for what followed. Despite all the whispers of the walls, the lingering implores and the unexplained warmth, she couldn’t have anticipated the twisting of strings of fate around her heart. She stopped in place, seeing nothing but him as she placed one of her hands on the footboard of the bed, fingers curling around it.

Her ears registered the fight that erupted between Leo and Mereo, but it was distant as if in a dream. There as something about Mereo being wrong about their brother, and Mereo shutting his opinions down, but Solara couldn’t concentrate on it. Not any of it. All she felt was the entwining of golden threads around her soul, into a tight embrace, one that had previously only existed as passing breaths, but now pulled her closer and closer.

But she knew that she couldn’t. She couldn’t just sit at his bedside and take his hand onto hers, letting herself to be submerged into the endless ocean of the fondest emotions. She couldn’t. No. And yet the threads kept pulling, and wrapped tighter around her heart, sinking into it, clenching it and tearing it, but still… she couldn’t.

And the worst part was that she couldn’t explain why she felt the unexplained deep desire to hold his hand, and assure him that it was all going to be alright. She couldn’t hold him in her arms and stroke his hair, while humming a gentle tune to his ear. And, for the life of her, she couldn’t tell why she had such feelings for a stranger. But he feels familiar. As if I’ve known him all my life. How- why am I-? I just feel like crawling into the bed and laying down next to him would be the most natural thing in the world. I could nuzzle against his neck and press a gentle kiss onto his cheek while placing my hand on his chest and…. And what am I thinking?! There is absolutely no reason for me to feel like this. Yes, he’s handsome I’ll give him that, and I’ve been told that… what have I actually been told? Well, Mereo calls him stupid constantly, but I take it that it’s all just because they’re siblings. I know that Leo looks up to him, so he must be very capable… But none of that explains anything. I’ve seen aesthetically pleasing, or handsome, men before who’ve been courteous and kind, and I’ve never felt such longing for them. Her fingers curled tighter around the footboard as she battled with herself.

Then a memory flashed through her mind. Solara remembered her mother telling her about something like this when she was young, but much like most children, she hadn’t imprinted the conversation into her mind. What was it that she said? Something about… “Your father and I, we gravitated towards each other. It was something that neither of us anticipated, but it was… like a cosmic dance where I was being pulled to him, as much as he was pulled to me. And for this brief passing second, we call life, we’ll keep tumbling towards each other, refusing to let go.” Something like that. I think it was along those lines. So… Is that what this is? Lo- Lov- No. It can’t be. I don’t know him, unlike my parents who knew each other. My fate isn’t tied to him… and even if it was, it doesn’t mean that his would be tied to mine. These whispers of belonging, they must be mistaken. The Tree of Binding Fates might be yet to tell me… She swallowed and was woken from her thought with a slamming door as Mereo left the room. Leaving the three of them in silence.

Leo’s brows were furrowed and he clenched his jaw, his entire body seeming tense.

“It’s going to be alright Leo,” Solara tried as she took a few steps closer to him with an empathetic smile.

“But aneue shouldn’t say that! Aniue has been working so hard for the squad, and when he comes back, he’ll prove her wrong!” His statement was firm and filled with young lion’s pride.

Solara placed her hand onto his shoulder, feeling him relax under her touch.

“I just… I just wish that I could help him recover,” Leo muttered, probably for the first time in his life.

His statement radiated with the purest of wishes, which took Solara aback for a moment, as she felt her already bleeding heart, cry for him, for the both of them.

“He knows that you’re here, standing by him,” Solara comforted while casting another soft smile to his direction.

“How can you know?” Leo asked while turning to her, his eyes pleading as he wanted to believe her statement.

“Well,” she paused for a moment as her thumb brushed the crumbs of uncertainty from his shoulder. “I’ve been told that people in a coma can still hear what happens around them. So, he hears your voice and what you tell him. And even if you didn’t talk to him, or in the unlikely event where he couldn’t hear you for some other reason, I’m certain that he feels your strong mana around, rooting for him to come back.” She paused once more as Leo processed her words. “He knows that you’re there for him. I’m sure of it. You’ve always believed in him, and he’ll always believe in you.”

The young lion blinked and a careful smile emerged onto his lips as he looked at his brother.

“But,” Leo paused, thinking how he should formulate his question. “If I want to make sure that he knows that I’m here, I should just talk to him?” He asked, turning to look at Solara once again.

She only nodded as a reply, while retracting her hand as she saw certainty rising back to his eyes.

“Does it matter what I talk to him about?” He continued, looking at Solara intently.

“Hmmm,” she hummed while her eyes shifted to the ceiling as she thought. “I don’t believe it does. I’ve heard that some even read books to their loved ones because they don’t really know what to say, so they’ve felt that to be an easy starting point.” She smiled as her gaze fell back to Leo, who was still staring at Solara with wide eyes. “Is that something you’d like to try?” Solara continued as her head tilted a bit, the comforting smile ever-present on her complexion.

Leo’s gaze shifted to his brother as he thought. “I don’t really know that many storybooks…” he mumbled as his gaze fell to the floor. The veil of sympathy wrapped tighter around Solara’s expression as the corners of her lips tugged further, for she felt the bond these two brothers shared, and which made the moment all the more melancholic.

“Well, do you know if he had one? Or if there was one that he used to read when he was younger?” She inquired, hoping to lead his train of thought forth into a haven of hope. And as his expression brightened, quite like the light of awaking dawn which repels the shadows of night each morning with the rising sun, making Solara feel warmth spreading across her body.

“Yes! There was a book he said he liked when he was my age! It was… um…” Leo seemed to have regained his energetic self in a blink of an eye. He put a hand on his hip as another scratched his head, while he tried to remember the name of the book. “I can’t remember,” he admitted before continuing. “But he gave me the book! So, I can just read it to him and he knows that I’m here, right?” Enthusiasm seeped from his entire being, his both hands now held in front of him, ready to face the obstacles laid before him.

Solara nodded to him, her action only fuelling him further.

“I’ll go get it right now!” He exclaimed and started running.

Solara followed him to the doorway and called out after him:” Leo! There’s time for that later, but you should…” her voice faded with the sentence as the vermillion haired boy had already disappeared behind a corner. “Get something to eat first…” she finished her sentence, out loud, but speaking to no one. Her posture slouched forth as she sighed, but regained it as soon as she heard steps approaching her.

She turned around to see Randal walking to her direction with a cape in hand.

“Hello,” she greeted as she turned around, giving him a smile.

“Hello,” he replied and paused, thinking if he should make a comment or not. “You’ll have to excuse Leopold, he’s quite energetic and very quick on his feet.” He stated, his tone staying steady and formal.

“Ah, it’s completely understandable,” she smiled, loosely waving her hand in front of her as if to brush off the action.

Randal only nodded as a reply, while taking the last few steps towards her and handed out the cape he was holding. “Here’s the cape Captain Mereoleona requested for you. Welcome to the squad,” he smiled.

As far as Solara could tell, he was being sincere, but given that she had just taken over some of his work, there was something she wished to ask. Since she knew that the action could be seen as interfering with his territory. Thus, she felt a compelling need to clarify something to him as she took the cape from him, holding it in her arms. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here. But can I clarify something with you?” She asked, her smile turning to that of slight hesitance.

Randal’s expression became that of intrigue as he replied: “Of course.” There was no judgement, nor even a hint of malice in his eyes, which alleviated Solara’s worry.

“Well, as the newest addition to the squad I know that I technically shouldn’t be taking care of any of the paperwork, and my intention isn’t to step on your toes. So, if you feel like I’m overstepping my boundaries, and crossing onto your territory as the Vice Captain, I do hope that you tell me.” She gave him an awkward smile, hoping that she had succeeded in relaying her intentions.

Randal seemed surprised for a brief second before the expression faded, and a smile rose to his lips as his gaze fell to the side. “Well, as long as we’re having an honest conversation,” he paused long enough to gaze back at Solara. “I’m glad to finally have someone to do the work with me. You see, before the work was divided between myself and Captain Fuegoleon. And during the time he has been incapable of completing those duties, it has all fallen onto my shoulders. So, I’m- I’m afraid that I’ve fallen behind,” he admitted, a shadow of shame passed over his complexion and he sighed. “I’m just glad to have someone to help me, and I trust that Captain Mereoleona wouldn’t assign you to it if she wasn’t certain that you could take care of it,” he smiled, gratitude radiating from his expression. And with that the last traces of hesitance washed from Solara, making her feel lucky to have been welcomed with such warmth.

“I do hope to live up to the expectations,” she chuckled. “But there are a few questions I’d like to ask regarding the forms and lingo. As this isn’t my native language, I seem to find myself struggling a bit already,” she admitted with a slight frown.

“Of course. I’m happy to help the helper,” he smirked with good will, making Solara giggle. He joined her in her laughter for a brief moment as they shared gratitude for one another.

Once the laughter settled down, she continued: “So, is this a good moment or… um?” She asked, tilting her head slightly.

“Well dinner is served soon, so we can start at the dinner table if you feel comfortable with it. Or then we can talk afterwards.” He thought out loud, his gaze shifting to the ceiling before falling back to her.

“Either is fine for me. After all, in addition to my questions you need to fill me in on the most pressing matters that should be taken care of, post haste,” she shrugged.

“True,” Randal nodded as silence fell between them for a moment. Both thinking where should they start.

“Well, if we start already on our way to the mess hall, we’ll get matters moving quicker,” she stated, earning another nod of agreement form Randal.

Solara closed the door to Fuegoleon’s sickroom, seeing his form from the corner of her eye, which caused the golden strings to clench around her heart once more. A veil of sorrow passed her complexion as the walls whispered to her again, imploring her to stay. I can’t. She only thought, trying to brush it all away from herself, but only succeeding to press it deep down into the back of her head. This’ll pass. I’m sure of it. This is a crush and nothing more, so it’ll pass. All I have to do is wait it out. She tried to convince herself, force herself to believe that to be the case, but the flicker of hope is one the hardest thing to snuff out, only allowing her to deny its existence. So, it remained, small, and quiet, but it remained. She could push it away as much as she wanted, and try to deny it to the best of her ability, but it still flickered.

The door closed, alleviating her aching heart. The feeling grew quieter as they walked away, beginning the discussion on what Solara already knew about the tasks at hand, and moving to comparing the differences in legal procedures between Clover Kingdom and Thea. But only to the extent where they were able to confirm or invalidate similar practises, based on which they’d be able to determine areas that needed to be addressed further. Their conversation carrying through the dinner, Solara being seated near Randal in order to keep the conversation going. Mereo appeared, only making a comment on them finding common ground rather quickly, but not otherwise interfering with the conversation.

Everyone seemed friendly, making introductions and some friendly conversation, but still giving room for Solara and Randal to finish their discussion. The only one to arrive late for dinner, was Leo, a frown painted over his expression once more.

Solara’s brow furrowed at the sight of him, but she didn’t wish to hurt the young lion’s pride and address the issue right there, in front of everyone.

“Hey, Leo?” She asked in a suitable point of the flowing conversation.

“Yeah?” He asked, clearly trying to hide his troubles and putting on a brave face. But his tone spoke far too loud of the worry that must’ve curled into his bones once more.

“There’s something I’d like to talk about with you a bit later on, if that’s okay?” She gave him a reassuring smile, making the corners of his lips turn slightly upwards.

“Yeah, it’s alright.” He stated with a weak smile, a flicker of gratitude passing through his eyes.

“Wonderful,” she only said, not wanting to make a scene of the situation, all others seeming to pay no attention to the brief interaction, or thinking nothing of it. Only Mereo raised an eyebrow, but opted to say nothing.

---

After dinner Solara and Randal spent a considerable amount of time in the Captain’s, and Randal’s offices, revising documents and laying groundwork for the following day, sun already having set as they were able to wrap things up. Solara left Randal’s office, only to find Leo waiting behind a corner.

“Hey,” she greeted, giving him a tired smile.

“Hey,” he replied his gaze falling to the side.

“What’s going on?” She asked, as guilt of making him wait this long tugged at her heartstrings.

“I-,” he paused as he held out a book, his eyes falling to its cover. “I tried to read it to him, but I kept skipping over lines, or reading them twice, and then sometimes I had to stop to pronounce words correctly, and it wasn’t good story telling…” his confession fell from him onto the book and tumbled down onto the floor with a loud clang that echoed around the hallway.

Seeing him so defeated twisted her heart, subsiding her own fatigue as sadness washed over her. “Maybe it’d help if you first read the chapter to yourself quietly, and then read it to him,” she suggested, trying to meet Leo’s gaze.

He only grit his teeth, his fingers curling tighter around the book. “I tried that, but it didn’t help,” he forced the words out of his throat, their sharp corners slicing his tongue on their way out.

A brief silence fell between them as Solara search for words of comfort to give him, but felt powerless to help him. After all, there was so little she could actually do for him, and that little felt so inadequate.

“May I?” she asked while holding her hand out, Leo’s gaze lifting only enough to reach the tips of her fingers.

He said nothing, but handed the book to her. His eyes travelled with the motion as Solara held the book out to herself. She turned the pages to the first chapter, letting her index finger glide across the lines. The spacing between the lines is quite thin actually. It’d be difficult to keep track while reading out loud even if using a finger as a cursor. She thought for a moment, but as she became aware of her note sheet, that was still in her hand from her talks with Randal, an idea dawned on her.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she took the paper and folded it to reveal a blank surface. She placed the folded edge under the first line and began to read, moving the paper and revealing new lines as the story advanced, but stopped after the first paragraph. Her eyes lifted from the book and met with Leo’s, whose were now wide open, his mouth agape. “See, you can use a blank piece of paper to help you keep track of the line you’re on,” she smiled and held the book out, handing it back to Leo.

“You should read to him!” Leo exclaimed, making Solara’s brows shoot up in surprise.

“I-,” she paused as her expression softened back to what it had been, “Wasn’t this supposed to be for him to know that *you* are there for him?” she asked, but feeling a tiny bit flattered.

“What matters is that he knows that somebody is there for him! It doesn’t matter if it’s me reading or someone else, as long as he knows,” Leo stated firmly while taking Solara’s hand and started pulling her towards the sick room.

“Leo, I-,” she began, but didn’t really know what to say. Still Leo heard the hesitance in her voice, so he turned around to look at her, his hand still holding on.

“Would you read to him, please?” His tone was stern and determined, telling her just how much this meant to him. But what made Solara unable to turn down his request, even if she had wanted to, was the implore in his eyes.

She looked straight at him, seeing that he wasn’t going to give up without resistance. And quite frankly, she had no objections in going along with his wish, given that he indeed was fine with her reading in his place.

She blinked slowly, her expression melting to that of a soft smile and sympathetic gaze as she replied: “if that’s what you wish.”

Leo’s eyes lit up once more as a prominent smile rose to his lips in triumph. “I can listen too, can’t I?” He asked, excitement radiating through his question as his grip of her grew more intense with his enthusiasm.

“I can’t see why not,” she said, tilting her head as she hadn’t really imagined herself ever reading to people, but saw no harm in it. I can’t really say that I’m a storyteller, but if it makes him feel better, suppose it’s alright. She thought as Leo started pulling her forward once more.

“Um, Leo? Where are we going?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

“To aniue! Let’s start the story already today!” He didn’t as much as turn his head back to Solara, only focused to move forward.

She let out a faint sigh. It’s already late, and we both should be going to bed… But if it’s just for tonight, then suppose it’ll be fine. For the future we need to establish some kind of a schedule though, but… as things are already in motion, suppose staying up a little bit later for today is acceptable. She frowned slightly, but said nothing as she knew this to mean a lot to him, destroying his newfound feeling of security and comfort being the last thing she wished to do.

“Leo, there’s no need for you to pull me. I can walk on my own,” her tone stayed calm and gentle, but was spoken loudly enough for him to make no mistake.

“Oh right. Sorry,” he stated as he glanced to her and let go, rubbing the back of his head briefly.

“It’s alright,” she replied as they continued forward, a more profound silence lingering in the air as the base was starting to quiet down. And as it did, the pull towards the sick room grew more intense. The tugging and twisting made her want to run, but it’d do no good. It’d serve no purpose and she had no right. She grit her teeth, once more wanting to snuff out the lingering feeling, but didn’t get very far.

Eventually they reached the room, Solara forcing herself to keep her gaze away from the man who laid on the bed. Which proved to be difficult as she sat down on a chair next to him, Leo moving a chair onto the opposite side, facing her.

Just concentrate on the book and take deep breaths. This’ll pass. It’s nothing. She held the book out and began reading, Leo listening to her intently as the story unfolded. Minutes ticked away, but none noticed the time passing, as they were immersed with the plot. And as the first chapter ended, Solara put down the book, telling Leo that they should get to sleep. He protested, but gave in as they agreed to continue tomorrow.

Darkness prevailed outside, and the only light source in the room was a single candle that cast its soft glow around, shadows dancing with the flickering flame. Solara encouraged Leo to get some sleep as she summoned her radiating mana skin, extending from her fingertips as if as claws, to cast some more light into the room before snuffing out the candle.

“I’m not that tired,” Leo yawned, making Solara raise an eyebrow at him; a hint which he understood and got up to leave.

Solara stayed behind to move the chairs away from the bed, making a few yawns of her own. But as she passed the man in deep, deep slumber, she couldn’t help but whisper out a question: “Who are you to me?” A pointless question she needed to ask for reasons that she couldn’t fathom, and yet… despite knowing that she wouldn’t get an answer, she felt strange comfort rising from it. As if by acknowledging him, they would have gotten closer; the tugging of the strings of fate easing up for the moment. She scoffed at herself for being ridiculous, and shook her head while making her way to the door.

But as she was about to make her leave, the door being open by only a mere crack anymore, she stopped and whispered: “Good night.” Her voice barely reached her own ears, the action making her feel like a fool once more. But with those words she was able to close the door and retire for the night, wondering if staying here was actually a good idea as she questioned her sanity. But still, leaving seemed more painful than it should. So, for now, she settled for rubbing her temples and trying to work her way around the emotions that she shouldn’t have had. This will pass. A sentence that became a mantra for her. A mantra that lost gravity each time she repeated it.

[beelzebaes]

Lessons learned.

Obey Me! Shall We Date oneshot; Pairing: Beelzebub + (f)MC Warnings: None Genre: fluff, introspective, self indulgent The first time he sees her, Beel crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. Humans are small, fragile, breakable. He takes a hasty glance at his brothers and that’s really all it takes for him to know they feel the same way: a reign of demons, cold and sunless, was no place for a mortal. Even so, she doesn’t flinch at the sight of him. She stubbornly stands her ground, stiff yet proud, and slowly extends her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says, and Beel almost laughs. He half-expects her to cower, to somehow will herself into shrinking down the second his hand grips hers, but she doesn’t. She smiles instead, teeth showing and everything, and it istantly reminds Beel of biblical miracles. He smiles back. That’s the first lesson he ever learns: strenght isn’t a demonic exclusive. Humans, he’ll soon find out, are way more resilient than he gave them credit for.

“Listen, I don’t mean to shame you, but this is just excessive,” she notes, ungraciously plopping down on his couch. She clicks her tongue eloquenty, pointing to the mountain of chocolate bars resting on it. Beel snorts at her signature lack of elegance, but chooses not to comment on it. “I am the Avatar of Gluttony, you know.“ He absent-mindedly throws one of the sweets in her direction, too busy unpacking his own to pay any mind to the strenght he put in the gesture. A loud thud forces him to peel his focused glance away from the precious bar and look at his companion, who appears to be utterly unimpressed despite a hand pressed against her heart. “Beel, you threw it all the way across the room!” she whines then, standing up to retrieve her chocolate. “No wonder people aren’t big on demons.” “Aren’t they now?”, Beel retorts. He puts a hand on her shoulder and nods to the couch. “Sit, I’ll get it,” he says apologetically. “Sorry.” He strides towards the bar, stretching a bit in the process. “You know, Beel– ” “Hm? What?” Beel picks up the chocolate bar, but doesn’t turn immediately. He senses something in her tone, a feeling he experienced before. He knows what she’s about to say, feels it coming with a certainty that he rarely ever knew before. A lot changed since she arrived, though. Beel’s never been one for surety, for definitive answers  – if anything, he used to be costantly torn apart by doubts. Admittedly, he didn’t have it easy, even considering demonic standards. He doesn’t really like thinking about it, nor he enjoys being reminded of it: Beel remembers all of it vividly, thank you very much. The exctruciating pain of losing a sibling, of being impossibly fast and strong, just not quite enough. Of course, how could one forget the tragedy of not being allowed to repent, his sin being plainly dismissed by everyone around him? No atonement meant no forgiveness, no forgiveness meant eternal torment. That, added to the loss of his home, of his very essence, utterly and royally fucked him up. What level of certainty could he ever hope to achieve? The mere thought used to be ludicrous to him, just as blasphemous as his own existence. Because, honestly, how else could anyone describe it? After his halo twisted into horrifying horns, how could anyone welcome such change? No, nothing made sense anymore. Until she stumbled right into his life, that is. As of now, pain isn’t the only thing he can remember. Beel thinks about it with embarassing frequency: he pictures a small human standing in front of him, arms stretched impossibly wide, small and unafraid, shielding him from what would’ve been certain death had Diavolo not intervened then and there. He muses back to the comfort washing over his body the second she took his hands in hers, nodding and smiling, ecstatic at the idea of a pact binding them together forever. She shined brightly then, open and honest, and it almost made him want to cry. The Devildom had no sun, no summer to speak of, but that was the warmest he ever felt. He learned a lot, these past few months. About her, about himself. It’s to be expected, she explained once. When you spend all your days by someone’s side, well, how can you not? Beel didn’t quite know how to respond then, but he understood eventually. He got to know her better than anyone, and she knows everything about him just as well. It’s almost odd really, considering the nature of their relationship, mortal human and immortal demon. But Beel treasures her more than anything else, more than life itself. She’s his light, his anchor, and he’s completely and absolutely hers. She’s the one thing he’s sure of. It clearly comes as no surprise that, the moment she opens her mouth, Beel just feels it. That tinge of worry in her tone, the way she suddenly pauses before clumsily trying to finish the sentence… he’s seen her stammer like that, and it’s never ended well before. He doesn’t need to look at her to know she’s staring down at her feet. He bites his lip and waits. “Sometimes I just forget,” she continues, faltering yet determined. “That you’re a demon, that is.” “Did my chocolate throwing skills remind you?” Beel answers. It comes way too quickly, and he’s still not turning to face her. He’s deflecting, they both know he is. “I’m sorry,” Beel offers again, “I wasn’t paying attention.” It pisses him off, the way he can’t do anything but apologize. It’s infuriating. Then again, what’s he supposed to say? Why yes, yes indeed, I am a demon and the very fact you’re alive right now is a miracle even I can’t explain. “It’s okay, I actually found it funny.” Her reply, the way she whispers it… all of it makes Beel want to scream. “You do realize I am… a lot stronger than you, right? I could kill you in two seconds,” he deadpans. “You should work on that survival istinct of yours. Geez, I’m hungry–” “You wouldn’t.” Beel turns to her then, spins on his heels unnecessarily fast, and opens his mouth to reply, to say something. Nothing comes out. He pinches the bridge of his nose instead, desperately trying to find the words to convey just how frustrated their exchange is making him. “Of course I wouldn’t. I won’t,” he manages. But you still need to be careful, because if anything happened to you– “I’m not worried about getting hurt. I’m not scared of you guys. Of you. You know I trust you with my life.” She’s standing up now, and Beel silently prays to any divinity out there she doesn’t come any closer. She does. Of course she does. She’s never been a fan of caution, after all. “I just think… I wish I was a demon, too. Or, you know, an angel. Something more than,” she points to her chest, smiling weakly, “this.” Everything unfolds so quickly then, it almost doesn’t feel real. Beel doesn’t quite remember his legs moving, closing the gap between them in a couple of hasty strides. He can’t recall his hands stretching outwards to hold her shoulders, as gently as he possibly can given the circumstances. He’s vaguely aware of her eyes growing wider and wider with wonder, his hug inevitably lifting her way above the floor, her arms struggling to envelop his huge back while she clings to his shirt with what he imagines is all the strenght she can conjure, but that’s all he manages to focus on. He has to tell her. He has to make absolutely sure she knows. “I wouldn’t change you for the world,” he says finally, and it’s barely audible, but it reaches her. She hears him loud and clear, as she always does, and cries. “But when I leave– ” “Then stay.” He’s never really said it before. He thought about it, obviously, but he never really expressed it like that. As unnatural as it is for a demon, Beel feels all too vulnerable, naked almost, but it’s out. Might as well roll with it, he concludes. Beel takes a step back, his hands still on her tiny shoulders, and exhales loudly. He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until then. She’s standing there, stiff as a board, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks. Beel expects her to protest, and for a second he’s completely sure she will. And yet, she says nothing. A rare occurrence, really. “I know this place isn’t what you’re used to. I know there’s no proper spring, no actual summer, and I know you hate the food most of the times, I know you miss the sun, but I’ll try my hardest to make sure you’re always comfortable, and I– ” I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. “What are you talking about?” she suddenly cuts in, her hands trembling. She removes them from his back and wipes her eyes, only to place them right against his chest. Her eyes meet his, and Beel has to make a conscious effort not to look away. “The sun’s right here.” She smiles through her tears, and thanks to some sort of otherwordly miracle, it’s her usual smile. Teeth showing and all.  That’s when Beel understands. He’s already figured out how strenght can be borrowed, infinitely shared between two souls. She lent him hers, over and over again, teaching him how to take hurt and turn it into resilience. As tiny as she was, she supported him through it all, with all her might, albeit sometimes unsteady. He just never knew, never truly realised: she was his lighthouse, sure, but he was hers. He matters to this woman, this small breakable woman, just as much as she matters to him. And that’s the last  – and most important  – lesson Beel ever has to learn.