#my son is finally going outside and getting tan that he deserves

[nickpeppermint]

Evolution of how i used to draw Ness is so funny

Each time he's getting more scrunkly

My dear sweet child, why were you so effing pale omg 😭

[starlit-crossing]

Lost in Foster (Working Title) Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - Meeting the Waynes

Slowly the skyscrapers of the city were replaced with the rolling hills as the car made its way to Crest Hill. They hadn’t told Danny much about his new foster home, leaving it vague. The only things he could get out of them was that the man ran his own business, and he had many successful adoptions in the past. At this point he thought he was going to a farm, being forced to do chores early in the morning. The further they went the less sure he was, as houses began to periodically appear he began wishing it was a farm.

The homes they passed were large, fashionable manors with acres of land in between. Gated fences and lavishly long driveways sat in front. Not a single other car appeared in the streets as they quietly made their way deeper in. It took about twenty minutes to get from the city to the last house in the neighborhood. Similar to the others a wrought iron fence blocked the driveway in, the car pulling up to a grey speaker just outside the gate. Mr. Densen, the man put in charge of Danny’s case, rolled down his window and buzzed the button on the speaker box. A voice answered but it was too quiet for him to hear.

“It’s Chris Densen with the Gotham CPS. I was informed you were expecting our arrival with a new foster placement?” Densen answered, the voice responding in time with a positive tone. The gates creaked as they opened wide enough for the car to pull through. The manor ahead of them was the largest of those they had passed, even larger than Vlad’s back in Wisconsin. It stood four stories tall with light colored brick making the walls. Large windows reflected the rare morning sun, smoke flowing out of the chimney among the dark tiled roofs. The driveway went in a circle around a large patch of grass with a fountain nestled in the center.

Standing on the patio atop of the stairs leading to the manor was two men and a kid. The oldest was dressed in a fitted suit with a small mustache and a balding head. Next to him was a man around his parents age with black hair and tired blue eyes. He wore pressed black pants and a light grey turtleneck. Finally, standing back towards the door was the kid, his skin was tan with black hair and green eyes. Dressed in shorts and a hoodie he stood with his arms crossed as he glared at the car. They all began walking down the steps as the car came to a stop.

“Hi Danny, I’m Bruce Wayne. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Bruce smiled, offering his hand as Danny exited the car. Danny looked at the hand and back at him, first impressions were okay. He didn’t seem like Vlad, there was no smooth-talking flattery or blatant evil tone, but he was rich. If the house was anything to go from and though being rich didn’t make you evil, it didn’t help you in Danny’s book. The whole situation was just dredging old memories leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“Hi.” Was all Danny could offer in return while shoving his hands into his hoodie. Bruce gave a small laugh and brought back his hand.

“Well, I hope you enjoy your time here at Wayne Manor. If you need anything feel free to ask myself or Alfred; he may be the butler, but he deserves the utmost respect. He’ll be able to show you your room later this evening. The one lingering behind us is my son Damian, he’ll be giving you a tour of the grounds while I speak with Mr. Densen here.” He watched as the butler took his backpack from the car and headed back inside. The kid finally approached; a look of disinterest glued to his face.

“Welcome Daniel, follow me. Let’s get this tour over with.” Damian drawled.

Isn’t he a peach, Danny thought to himself rolling his eyes. “It’s Danny. Just Danny.” He repeated.

This kid ignored him as they made way for the front doors. Inside was the entrance hall, it was fairly large with white tile bordered by wooden flooring along the walls and staircase. The staircase itself was two separate stairways that connected at the top of the second floor. The walls were covered with red wallpaper, paintings, and portraits. Most notable was a large frame with a velvet background. It held six ovals each with its own silhouette and name. The first was Bruce’s name and portrait, followed by three more underneath that said Richard Grayson, Jason Todd, and Timothy Drake. Below them were two more that said Cassandra Cain and Damian Wayne.

“Is this painting your family?” he asked.

“Some, yes. It needs to be updated but it has the elder children of my father. All adopted except for myself, I am my father’s only biological son.” Damian explained proudly, not before his eyes went wide and adding, “Don’t get any ideas about being adopted. I have enough brothers as it is!”

“Trust me, I don’t plan on it.” Danny answered, as proud as the kid was, he’s still just a kid.

“Good. Let’s continue,” He led them through a door to a large kitchen, it was as nice as a five-star restaurant with expensive stoves and appliances. “This is the kitchen, it’s Pennyworth’s domain. If you cause any trouble here, you will be banned. My father is an unfortunate example.”

“Understood.” Danny continued, following Damian further into the building. It had been nice being able to eat food that didn’t fight back. It was good to know that it would continue. The tour went on through the manor with small comments here and there. Apparently, Bruce was a well-known figure in Gotham with him hosting parties on occasion in the manor. They did in fact have a barn on the grounds though Damain mainly spent the time there introducing Danny to all the animals. The Bat-Cow being the most interesting, named for the city’s protector and the bat marking on its face. They ended the tour in the garden just behind the mansion. “That’s the entirety of the grounds. It’s quiet for now but Duke will be home later this evening for dinner and the others will surely visit once they know of your stay.” He went on, Danny had been mostly quiet during the tour, only offering responses and questions that would help him later. Danny hadn’t seen much that would’ve stood in his way of leaving. In fact, with little to know security around outside of cameras it should be as simple as any other home they put him in.

“By the way, I know why they asked my father to take you in. I thought I’d save you the trouble and let you know there is no way off the grounds without getting caught or falling into a booby-trap. I should know, I’ve tried.” With that Damian headed inside the building, leaving Danny outside the manor. How did he know I was thinking about leaving? Also booby-traps? Danny wondered, making his way inside. They’d expect a runaway to go at the first chance he got, best for him to wait till later that week.

---

Danny was eventually shown to his room on the second floor, which happened to be across the hall from the other resident Duke. Apparently, everyone who lived here at some point still had a room for themselves and could come back to it whenever they visited. He had double-checked his backpack which had been placed on top of the desk next to a computer. Everything seemed in place, next he checked the room for any cameras and recorders. He didn’t really expect to find anything, but it was better to be safe than sorry. This took up much of the afternoon leaving him to read on the bed when he was done. Around 6pm there was someone knocking on the door to his room.

“Danny? It’s time for dinner,” The door opened to reveal another teen around Danny’s age, his skin was dark, and he was wearing jeans with a red t-shirt, a lightning bolt on the front. “Better hurry Alfred made some cookies for your stay. Trust me, you don’t want to miss them. I’m Duke by the way, nice to meet you!”

Danny gave him a nod and followed the guy down the hall and stairs to the dining room. Already sat around was Bruce at the head of the table and Damian in the seat to his right. Duke took a seat across from him and gestured for Danny to seat beside him. As soon as he took a seat Alfred placed a serving of pasta and salad in front of him, a glass of water already on the table.

“Thanks.” Danny said, grabbing a fork and digging in. As the food hit his mouth Danny had to keep himself from scarfing the whole thing down. The pasta had a creamy sauce of cheese and marinara with well-seasoned chicken shredded and mixed in. It was delicious, he could only imagine the cookies Duke had mentioned.

“So, Danny how was the tour Damian gave you?” Bruce asked from across the table.

“Good.” Danny answered in between bites. Duke gave a look to Damian almost surprised at the kid.

“If it was anything like mine, I’m sure he threw some odd comments in.” Duke chimed in.

“Excuse you, Duke. Both of my tours for you and Danny were quite excellent. We even gave a visit to the animals.” Damian smiled pointing his fork at the teen.

“I’m sure, did he tell you about the booby-traps on the grounds? Loves to mention them but not which ones are real or not.” Duke said elbowing him. Bruce smiled at the antics between the two.

“He is right though, most only get armed at night though so there is nothing to worry about.” Bruce went on. “Most are there due to large amount of villain attacks in the city, though we’re far from most of the dangers you can’t be too safe.”

“Yes, very safe with the laser grid that got installed over a month ago.” Duke tagged on sarcastically, Bruce giving him a quick look. I thought I was done with lasers, Danny thought sinking into his seat. Things continued like this for most of the meal and he was starting to get some sense of what everyone was like. Damian, being the youngest, tended to boast about his skills and achievements. Duke was like Danny in being new to the manor but was more familiar with everyone than he was. Bruce was still a bit of a mystery; he was trying to be a positive influence in the conversation but seemed to be holding back. They all were in some way, dancing around a topic none of them were willing to bring up. It was probably due to him just showing up, the people at the CPS had told him the home he was going to didn’t normally foster random kids.

Alfred was just bringing out the cookies when he stopped by Bruce and whispered something in his ear. Danny watched as Bruce’s face shifted from the smile he had been wearing all night to something more serious. He almost looked like he was brooding as he listened to what Alfred said, Damian and Duke looking at him waiting.

“Sorry Danny, but something has come up at Wayne Enterprises. It’s nothing to terrible but as CEO of the company I need to look into it.” He rose from his seat; Damian was following suit.

“Do you need any help, Father? I will one day work at the company so it would benefit for me to accompany you.” Damian was practically already out the door when Bruce responded.

“No Damian, I need you here. It’s a school night anyway so you’ll need to get some rest.” Bruce reasoned, meanwhile Duke held back a laugh. Damian scowled at the two before returning to his seat and grabbing a cookie from Alfred’s tray.

“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” He said before continuing out the door. Danny didn’t give it too much thought, he had never owned a multibillion-dollar company so who knows what stuff that entailed. So, he grabbed a cookie or three and made his way back to his room. As he went, he thought for a moment that the grandfather clock at the top of the stairs was off. Its face read 10:48, taking a look at his burner in his pocket it read 8:06. It must be broken, Danny thought and returned to his new room for the rest of the night.

Master post - Chapter 4 Prev. <<< Next >>>

[ilustra-ss]

First of all this is an AU, all the TMNT characters are adults, they are in their late twenty´s, please keep the negative comments to yourself/En primer lugar, esto es un AU, todos los personajes de TMNT son adultos, tienen más de veinte años, por favor, guárdate los comentarios negativos.

This is my first fanfic if you want to give me opinions send me a private message i will be very happy to be able to improve thanks to you./Este es mi primer fanfic si quieren darme opiniones mandeme mensaje en privado estare muy feliz de por poder mejorar gracias a ustedes.

He know that he shouldn't go and be walking outside in the early morning,it's to risky but he knows,is the oldest brother,the leader,the next successor of the Hamato clan,the perfect golden child knows he needs to go back inside but again he going to take risks

The risk of caught by brother, trying and successively pull him inside of their home,yelling at him,one of them go and finds his father master splinter so he can lecture him about why he shouldn't go outside so early in the morning,why he shouldn't go alone,if he still remember what happened to him when he faced all alone the Shredder or how Miyamoto is not meant for him.

Not meant for him?

why, why splinter mentioned Usagi Miyamoto 

Because of his prejudice.

Usagi is know as a traitor,a samurai with a serious look that scares the dumbest people,a worthless bunny.He is not and never will be worhtless,he is kind,loyal,brave and the best samurai warrior of all times they should know that by now,His family should know by know too! if they know...then why are doing this?he dosen´t deserve love and happines like the other? 

He is not worth it?he has done everything right and perfect to keep them happy and proud he never begs for nothing but the only thing he is ask to this family  is to let him love his samurai.

Nowhere to go,all thought goes out the window when he sees someone in the distance, the shadow was getting closer and closer to reveal that it was indeed Usagi Miyamoto,everything happened very fast, see him if was like the first time tehy meet his heart was beating a thousand times a second, they were dating for a while but the affections of his beloved got him every single day, but today he felt nervous more than usual Usagi approaches to his kappa holding his hand in a gentle and strong way,looking into his eyes to finally say these simple words.

“will you marry me?”

He knows that this can make everything worse, with his father, brothers, everyone, but the love he have for him is more stronger than a prejudice,he knows the risk.

As the rays of the sun just rising illuminated his soft white fur with happiness and security looks his lover in the eyes and with a smile answers him.

Él sabe que no debería salir a caminar temprano en la mañana, es demasiado arriesgoso, pero esto el lo sabe porque es el hermano mayor, el líder, el próximo sucesor del clan Hamato, el niño perfecto, el sabe que deberia entrar a su casa pero nuevamente el va a tomar este riesgos.

El riesgo de ser atrapado por sus hermanos, tratando de traerlo sucesivamente dentro de su casa, gritándole, uno de ellos va y encuentra a su padre, el maestro splinter, para que este pueda sermonearlo sobre el por qué no debe salir tan temprano en la mañana, por qué no debería ir solo, si aún recuerda lo que le pasó cuando se enfrentó solo a Shredder o cómo Miyamoto no es para él.

¿No es para él?

por qué, por qué splinter mencionó a Usagi Miyamoto

Por su prejuicio.

Usagi es conocido como un traidor, un samurái con una mirada seria que asusta a las personas más tontas, un conejito sin valor. El no es ni jamas será un conejo sin valor, es amable, leal, valiente y el mejor guerrero samurái de todos los tiempos. Todos a estas alturas deberia saberlo, Su familia también debería saberlo! si saben...entonces por que hacen esto?no merece amor y felicidad como los demas?

¿Él no vale la pena? ha hecho todo bien y perfecto para mantenerlos felices y orgullosos, nunca ruega por nada, pero lo único que le pide a esta familia es que lo dejen amar a su samurái.

Sin lugar adonde ir, todo pensamiento se va por la ventana cuando ve a alguien a lo lejos, la sombra se acercaba cada vez más para revelar que efectivamente era Usagi Miyamoto, todo pasó muy rápido, véanlo si fue como la primera vez que se vieron su corazón latía a mil por segundo, estuvieron saliendo por un tiempo pero el cariño de su amada lo atrapaba todos los días, pero hoy se sentía más nervioso que de costumbre Usagi se acerca a su kappa tomándolo de la mano de una manera suave y fuerte, mirándolo a los ojos para finalmente decir estas simples palabras.

"¿Quieres casarte conmigo?"

Sabe que esto puede empeorar todo, con su padre, hermanos, todos, pero el amor que le tiene es más fuerte que un prejuicio, conoce el riesgo.

Mientras los rayos del sol apenas naciente iluminaban su suave pelaje blanco con felicidad y seguridad mira a los ojos a su amante y con una sonrisa le responde.

[ordinaryschmuck]

Sneak Peek of Chapter 3 of La Asombrosa Arácnida

"Here you go, Sammy," I said to an actual street performer who sat outside a sandwich shop called Sal's Subs. Sammy always sat by this place, strumming on his guitar and getting a fair amount of attention with his talent, but not enough change for his music. So, if anyone deserved a twenty deposited into his guitar case, it was Sammy.

"Thanks, Aracnida!" Sammy exclaimed, ignoring the accent mark, but I gave him a pass on it. "Oh, and check it: I'm totally making headways on your theme song!"

"Oh, that's not--"

"Aracnida~! Aracnida~!" He belts out, strumming his guitar. "Does her best for me and for ya~!"

"That's really--"

"Makes a web of any scale~! Catches thieves, just like...Ah, dang it." Sammy set down his guitar with disappointment. "Ok, The lyrics need fine-tuning, but I'm telling you, that song will be a hit!"

"I'm...sure it will." I gave him two thumbs up and felt extra grateful that my mask hid my unsure grimace.

"I'm gonna hit you in a minute!" A new voice screamed. Out came Sal, owner of the shop, holding up a broom menacingly. By the sight of him, Sammy scrambled to grab his guitar and his case full of--I think--twenty-eight dollars and started running.

"I told you to stop coming here and ruining my business, you hippy! And you!" Sal glared at me, gripping his broom tight. "Give me one good reason not to smack you for encouraging that freak?"

"Because I can easily snap that broom of yours in half," I retorted, planting a hand on my hip. Sal squinted at me, keeping his anger stagnant...before belting out a laugh as he set the broom aside.

"I almost got you, right?" he said between laughs. "Come on, admit it."

"Not even close." I grinned under the mask. "Though it's cute that you think a broom would have stopped me."

"Eh, it's better than nothing. I mean, I still remember how you dealt with that thug who went with a punch, the poor bastard."

"He had that coming. You and I both know it."

"Oh, absolutely."

Just then, an older woman with gray hair and a tray of cookies came out, smiling at me.

"Pensé que era tu voz," She said. And, yes, that's Spanish. Google is your friend. If you want her to learn your language, the least you can do is learn hers. "Es tan bueno verte de nuevo, querida. ¿Quieres una galleta? Son frescos."

"Mamá, tus galletas son para clientes que pagan," Sal complained, only to get lightly swatted by his mother.

"Salvador, esta joven impidió que un ladrón dañara nuestro negocio y a tu esposa. Ella merece una galleta gratis, al menos."

"Gracias, Sra. Vocahnan," I finally spoke up. "Pero no es necesario."

"¡Disparates! Aquí." She took a cookie off the tray and handed it over. "Insisto."

"...Bueno si insistes." I take the cookie and roll up my mask just enough so I can take a bite out of it. Just then, I started to hear some familiar vibrations and went to pull out my phone.

'No way it was five-thirty already...' was my first thought. Turns out, it was just Vee calling me.

"Me tengo que ir." I shot a web to a building and zipped myself up into the air. "¡Gracias de nuevo por la galleta!"

(Also, if someone could be a friend and check the Spanish on this one, I would greatly appreciate it.)

[idamariaw]

A one-shot where you meet a british man, a bit clumsy for his own good sometimes but at least it brought him to you.

This is dedicated to @atlafan, Happy Birthday 🌸

The air was humid, warm and had a strong scent of your favourite jasmin bodywash as you carefully stepped out of the bathtub to continue to get ready for your date tonight. A date that you’ve been looking forward to all week and made it way easier to get through classes and exams, even though you didn’t know much about Harry yet. That was his name, Harry Styles.

You met him just over a month ago in the coffee shop near your apartment where you spend most off your afternoons to study or read, the earthy and warm environment having a calming effect and the staff always sweet. You were reading an article for your course in political science, Stevie Nicks ’Wild Heart’ playing with your notes and books neatly in a pile by your side as eveything sudden flew to the ground with a large thud. It startled you a bit and you took your headphones off to register what caused the mess while you heard a voice beneeth you along your dropped belongings,

”Shit! I-i’m so sorry. My guitar bag got stuck in the corner of your books, I really didn’t mean to.”

A mop of chocolate curls cought your eyes while speaking to you with his deep voice and keeping to apologize even though it didn’t matter, you knew it was an accident. After picking up your things he got up to his feet and you got the oppurtunity to really look at him now. Tall, broad build at the shoulders, skinny jeans with a button up in different patterns, curls to his chin and the most beautiful green eyes you’ve ever seen.

”I’m so fuckin’ clumsy, first time at this coffee shop and this happens.” Now you noticed he had an accent, a british one? Well if your cheeks weren’t burning before they sure were now.

”Oh no it’s okay! I promise. Accidents happen, i’m pretty clumsy myself so you’re not alone. I was getting zoned out on my work anyway so you helped me with that” You said with a smile to reasure you’re not irritated or anything.

”Thank you for trying to make me feel better, but your muffin got on the ground as well. Let me buy you another please?” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit and pouted his heartshaped lips and you just couldn’t say no.

”Oh and I’m Harry by the way, Harry Styles.”

After that you asked him to sit down with you and tried to give him a good impression of the shop although it’s caotic beggining. You learned that he actually was brittish, was majoring in English Literature, wrote music and sang covers with his band.

You met him every now and then the following weeks and after sharing a carrot cake with a latte a few days ago he finally got the courage to ask you what you thought about for weeks,

”Would you be willing to see me outside this coffee shop for dinner on Friday? Please?”

And here you were, freshly out the bath and in your closet looking for an outfit. It was early autumn and Harry said he’d pick you up at 6, so a leo printed long skirt and a sage green knitted sweather along with maroon converse and a bamboo knitted purse with some jewelry would work. A pretty little matching lace bralette and panties underneath just in case things would go that way. Just as you put on a layer of your strawberry flavoured lip gloss you heard the doorbell ring and your heart skipped a beat. You looked over yourself once more before getting your purse and rushed to the door.

There he stood, so good looking it almost made you angry, with his signature black skinny jeans, a black button up, brown boots, a tan coat and hair up in a bun.

”Hello darling, I’m sorry if i’m a tad early. These are for you by the way.” He came in for a hug and kissed your cheek as he handed you a bouquet of red roses and you got a chance to take in his strongly scented perfume that consumed your senses.

”No I was just ready so it’s okay! Wow thank you, i’ve never gotten flowers before. I’m just gonna put these in a vase and I’ll be right with you.” He furrowed his eyebrows a bit as he leaned against the treeshold.

”Really? Hm I’ll remember that then. I’ll just wait by the car, we’re going for a drive about 20 minutes away if that’s okay. Take your time darling.”

As said, he waited by the car and opened the door for you on the passenger side and then you were on you way.

”Can I have a guess at where we’re going? Dinner somewhere maybe?” You asked even though you didn’t really have any but you’ve always loved surprises and he didn’t even know that.

”Well you can guess darling but i’m not sure you’re gonna figure it out that easy. But yes, we will have dinner in a way.” He answered you with a crooked smirk, showcasting his dimples.

After the 20 minute drive he parked by a black steele double gate leading the way to something you were quite familiar with but haven’t visited in ages.

”The botanical garden?” You asked surprised while Harry opened the door for you to step out.

”Yeah, is that alright with you? I figured as you like the atmosphere at the coffee shop so much this could be nice.” He said a bit shyly.

”Are you kidding me? Ofcourse I love it, I used to be here as a kid with my parents a lot but haven’t been in ages!”

”Thank god, I got nervous there for a second. I’m just gonna get some things in the car but you can start walking up and I’ll meet you at the front.” He said as he started to pick some things out from the back.

You felt giddy and excited as you approach the building and started to walk up to the front like Harry told you. It was when you came to the entrance that you noticed it’s closed and locked. Did Harry know this? Then you felt a hand at the small of your back and the smell of his perfume announced his presens as you turned around and what you saw made you melt to a puddle inside. The guitarbag was secured aganist his back and in his arms he held a picnic basket with a blanket and filled with all kind of goods.

”An evening picnic at the botanical garden with some live music, can’t go wrong with that can we?” He said with a cheeky shrug even though you could sense the nerves in his eyes.

”Seriously? That’s so nice Harry, oh my god. It’s to much to be honest. But how do we get in? And is it even aloud?” You didn’t want to doubt him or his plans but you couldn’t help it as it was actually closed.

”Hm don’t need to doubt me darling. I know the owners son as I helped him with a poem analysis in our class so he owned me a favour.” He explanied as he fished up the key in his coatpocket and opened the door with ease.

The setting and environment was everything you remembered from when you were younger and visited this place, green and thriving plants and vegetation everywhere, even a little pond in the middle with a fountain. The ceiling was made of pure glass so you could clearly see the sky that began to darken and stars starting to shine through, it was breathtaking.

”I was thinking we could set up and get up these stairs close to the roof to we get the best view.” You heard Harry speak up as he lead the way up to a white spiral stair that got you to a spot near the roof to spread out everything and sit comfortably.

He really didn’t spare anything on the food or drink, a nice rosé wine, fruits and berries of all kinds and a fancy charcuterie board.

”Harry I hope you know that you didn’t really need to do so much for our date, a romcom with a burger and fries would have been just as nice. But I really appriciate this, thank you so much.” So said honestly because it was true, just being with him was more than enough.

”Thank you for being honest darling but it’s not to much. You deserve the effort and I want to show you how important this is for me, how important you are for me. Feed me a strawberry please? And do you have any song requests?” He said as he brought up the guitar from its bag.

”Maybe ’Leather and Lace’ by Stevie Nicks if you know that one?” You asked softly as you brought the strawberry to his pouty heartshaped lips and your throat got a bit dry when he hummed against the fruit as he took a bite.

”Mmh, thank you darling. And yes I know that one, a pretty big Stevie fan myself actually.”

He said as he started to play the strings on the guitar, the melody started to fill the garden and softly singing the lyrics made everything complete. It was almost like the man in front of you couldn’t be real with how perfect he looked.

”You’ve been staring at my lips quite a lot this evening.”He said taking out of your trance and making you blush down your neck.

”W-what? Oh i’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable…” You started to explain yourself but he cut you off quickly,

”Shh, no darling it didn’t make me uncomforable at all. Come here please.” He made grabby hands at you as you sat opposite to him on the blanket so you could come up to his lap.

”I promise you it didn’t. I’ve been looking at you too you know, so beautiful today it makes my heart ache. So happy and thankful, proper cuite you are. Must have the sweetest mouth to. Would you let me have a taste?” He said as his fingers came to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and lips almost touching yours.

”Yes Harry please.” You almost whimpered against his mouth until you felt his lips softly pressing aganist yours. You shifted in his lap to wrap your fingers in the nape of his neck below the bun to deepen the kiss, Harry leaning back to take a breath.

”Tastes like strawberrys darling, gonna give me a toothache with this sweet mouth of yours.”

You continued to kiss for a while and as he moved down to your neck he felt you shift against him more and he got the courage to lay you down on the blanket and hover over you to get better acess to the rest of you.

”Can I take this off? Or will you be cold?” He asked while playing with the hem of your sweather.

”No I want it off please, I won’t be cold.” You barely finished the sentence before the sweather was off and Harry started to kiss from you neck down to the crease of your breasts.

”Smells like flowers darling, and so soft. Perfect tits you have.” His raspy voice sent a shudder down your core the same time as he carefully touched your breasts and started to kiss them through your lacy bralette.

”What’s this hm? A fuckin nipple piercing? Almost as if you’re tryin to kill me, fuck.” Oh yeah, you almost forgot about that one in your right nipple and he sucked and nipped at it as a man obsessed.

Being teased and played with for so long now made you whimper again and you tried to buck your hips into him for more friction now as you started to ache from your lower region.

Harry noticed this and made the decision to use this against his favor.

”Do you want my mouth somewhere else darling? Seems like your aching pretty bad. Or fingers maybe? Need you to talk to me.”

”Yes please, I want your mouth on me so bad. Please Harry.” If you weren’t so worked up you would feel embarassed for your neediness but you just couldn’t care right now.

”So polite, ofcourse I’ll give it to you. Anything you want, you’ll have. Can I take the skirt off?”

You nodded quickly and he got down so he was facing your core and budged up the skirt around your hips. He kissed your mound over your panties and looked up at you with a cheeky smirk.

”Matching knickers, hm? You’re flattering me darling, being so pretty for me.”

”I-i was just being hopeful…” You let out a breathy laugh at his observation feeling the blush creeping to your cheeks again.

”I was to if i’m being honest but I didn’t want to push you into anything, i’m so thankful that you let me see you like this but I really want to take these of as pretty as they may be and taste you properly. Smells so fuckin’ good I’m going insane.” He took the panties of and let out a low growl while spreading you open with his fingers and see how you were glistening from the wetness under the starlight. Going in for a long stripe with his tounge from your slit to your swollen nub, sucking and nibbling at it just the right way to make you give out a loud shaky moan. He continued playing with your clit with his tounge and lapping up all the sweetness he could get while he felt your legs starting to shake against his head and your moans only got louder.

”Making such pretty noices for me darling, keep going. Need to know that I make you feel good. Want my fingers as well while I play with your clit? Already so swollen for me.”

”Yes fuck i’m gonna cum soon, please Harry I want your fingers please…”It was all you could say before you felt two of his fingers press against your slit and tounge going back to your clit. Your hands found his hair and he let put a growl against you as you tugged on it harder than you intendent, small strais of hair coming out from the bun.

”You can cum darling, I’ve got you. Being so good for me and letting go like this. Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had, so so fucking good for me. Let me have it, please.” He continued to thrust his fingers as he said his dirty words and that sent you off the edge and gave you the most intense orgasm of your life. Small tears rolled down your cheeks and Harry kissed your inner thighs to help you come down. He licked his fingers clean and covered you again with the skirt, going up to face you and kiss your lips.

”Mmh, hi pretty girl. Felt good?” He asked nuzzling against your nose and stroking your cheek.

”Oh my god, yes. You’re literally perfect Harry, thank you.” You closed your eyes and cuddled into his side as he laid beside you looking up to the stars against the glass ceiling.

”No I’m not darling but thank you. What do you say about cleaning up and head over to mine, watch a movie and I can make you a cuppa? Sounds good?” He asked you before whispering quitly to himself ”And thank god for me being a clumsy fool.”

[bloodycassian]

 Cauldron Damned. 

Reader x Cassian + Feyre BFF

Prompt -  bestie bestie bestie a cassian x reader fic where reader helps feyre with the cauldron - not rhys and she ya know  like rhys did and cassian basically breaks down and it’s super angsty but rhys lives so the reader gets to aswell ig tag @ bellefleurs and @ eerievixen

Her hair was a mess and painted to her neck with sweat but you still held her. Still gave and gave, until you were out of breath. Until you could feel yourself slipping. "Keep going.... You're doing so good." You panted out, trying to put a smile in your tone. She was the Mother herself, forging that cursed Cauldron back together.  Rhys was breathing heavily behind you after being knocked out by Lucien. You had given the Autumn court son a look and he had known what you needed him to do. Rhys would be snarling mad when he woke, but you knew what you had to do. To save your home, to save the entire world. Feyre was ready to risk it all, fearless and full of hope. You had to save that hope for your Court. Better you than her, better the high lady and lord survive than just an officer. You smiled at the thought of what you'd told Cassian before this final battle. Before you knew it would turn into saving the entire world from the Cauldron's vengeance.  "You better make damn sure my memorial statue looks fantastic. No priestess, though. Make sure it makes my wings stand out." You joked on the flight to the base camp. Cassian danced around death like he was it's balancing point. Like he was in tune with each and every death or life dealt. He laughed at your abruptness on the subject.  After months of skittering around each other, of trying not to stare too long or acknowledge that pull you felt towards him... It was nice to finally be alone. To let that tension ease out with a few jokes. It was too easy to be with him, like you'd known him much longer in the year of preparation for this battle.  "And you better make sure my wings are bigger than yours on that sculpture." He banked around a large cliffside and you followed, like a magnet. Like you could read his mind, you turned when he did. He rose with you, compensating for the cool mountain wind.  You rolled your eyes dramatically, flapping a bit higher than him for emphasis as you drawled out "Poor War General, his wing size matters so much to him." He shrugged, circling lower and lower with you until you were on the ground together amid a clearing. The grass was soft, covered in early morning dew. "Some say wing size dosen't matter, you know." You said with a wink, making him double over with laughter. It made you begin laughing too when he started running out of breath.  Once you had both collected yourselves, You began building a fire together. Rather, a massive bonfire that was to act as the signal to the army for where to move. His face was grim when he threw the last of the logs together. You understood why. "The Kings army will be here before us." You said, voice low. He only nodded. You kneeled in the wet grass, one knee down the other one supporting your wrist bracer. He followed you silently.  You spoke in unison, the ancient words from all the Illyrian warriors before you: "Name me God of Death today. Let us bring that name to those who do us wrong." + Feyre muttered something you couldn't hear. The darkness crept further in on you. You could see some light between your blurred vision. You could see how her hands lit up the cracks in the ancient stonework. You could feel her practically vibrating with the strain.  Your tears dribbled on to her shoulder, knowing these would be your final moments with her. Your final moments in this world. There was no better way you'd spend it than saving her. Spending those last few minutes being able to tell her how amazing she was. You felt her smile when you leaned your head against hers. Your heart ached. You whispered what you hoped were encouraging words in her ear. A rupture of sound- a crack fully mended -and your chest filled with blooming pride at your friend.  There was something crackling, ripping. You weren't sure if it was inside you or if it was the magic Feyre was performing. There was a gasp behind you and rustling, but you dared not take your concentration away from her. Away from how she leaned back into you. Dared not speak a word to distract her other than giving her those little jabs of confidence when she started to shake.  "You got it, Feyre. You can do this." You managed, before that caving feeling in your chest seemed to give in. You were breaking, you knew that much. But she wasn't done yet. Your breath leaked out from you, like you were being squeezed.  "Make it all worth it, Feyre." You managed to whisper out before you could no longer hold yourself up anymore. You laid back, your legs wrapped around her, mirroring her own. You hooked a foot on top of hers and gave her what you could from where you crumpled.  Death was easy, slow. Like a soft lullaby taking you away. You knew what lay before your body, and only hoped you were enough to get Feyre to where she could mend the rest on her own. You gave her all of your soul, all your being. She had to make it. You let the wave of that soft lullaby take you under.  + Cassian didnt think before shoving his way through the crowd into the tent. Didnt consider what he might find there, and how his heart may be ripped from him at the sight of it. The death that crept at that tent was a feeling he wouldnt forget in a thousand lifetimes.  His best friends lying unconscious on the floor before the cauldron. He went numb, still like a cold glacier. Lucien frantically shook Rhys, attempting to wake him. Cassian's head roared and he was falling to his knees at your side. He took your head in his lap, gently. As if he could still hurt you. He didn't notice he was crying until he saw the fat teardrops on your cheek. He wiped them away, leaving dirt smeared there. Another yell of anguish, and Rhys was coming to. From the sound of the yelling or from Lucien shaking him.  Azriel entered the tent then, solemn. Then his eyes widened. Those shadows darted around the room, taking each member of the court into account. The shadowmaster rushed to Feyre, checking her pulse and sighing. He noted the way your leg tangled around hers. His heart gave a painful squeeze. He saw both his brothers in agony. And he swore on his life there would be no place for the cauldron to be found again. Cassian cradled his mate's head in his lap, rocking gently. Rhys' dark power cracked the sky outside the tent once he was conscious.  Rhys rushed to Feyre, scooping her in his arms. He brushed her hair back from her face. Azriel could practically hear the mental screaming coming from both of them. The shadowmaster laid a hand on top of yours, closing his eyes and letting his tendrils of power, of those whispering shadows reach out. They circled your head, slowly like a snake.  He felt that song then, singing back with his own. The essence of your soul, dancing around your aura.  His eyes flashed open in surprise, then a manic laugh rumbled from his chest. "Rhys-" He breathed, pulling his attention away from a waking Feyre. Cassian looked up in a flash at his brothers, watching them exchange looks.  "Bring my mate back now." Cassian growled at Rhys. The tone was utterly deadly. Promises of death from the Lord of Bloodshed if his command was not answered. Azriel's eyes darted between his brothers. As if he was expecting Cassian to attack. The high lord would have been gaping at him if he hadn't experienced the same pain of almost losing a mate. He nodded, pulling himself together long enough to enter your vacant mind. Then the cauldron was humming, as he dipped a mental hand into it as well. +  Rhys' commanding voice rang out over your land of lavender and sunshine. "She will miss you." His voice was soft, but the attention it drew was still there. The meadow you laid in was softer than any silk in Velaris. More luxurious than any chair made to accompany your wings. You sighed, taking in the sweet scent before he spoke again.  "Too much, I believe. Especially when she hears about what you did to save her." He appeared at the edge of the soft meadow, the grass around him waving like the sea. You sat up, dazzled at the sight of him here. In such a bright, lovely place. His tanned face seemed to glow with the smile he held for you. "I'm tired." You said, voice groggy. You wanted to lay back down. You closed your eyes, for just a second and when you opened again he was in front of you, crouched. He held a tattooed hand out, giving you a nod. "Just come with me and you can nap all you want." His eyes sparkled. Not with that starlit power, but with tears ready to spill over.  You took that hand and closed your eyes.  + Feyre's warm hand in yours was the first thing you felt when you woke. Rhys held her in the corner atop a pelt rug beside you. The brothers leaned against each other. Rhys played with Feyre's hair as she rested. The sight of them together, him protecting her so well made your heart sing in approval. you knew she always deserved someone as good as Rhys. The fire where the Cauldron once was made the tent cozy. There were no sounds other than the soft breathing and the occasional pop of wood on the fire.   Azriel sat at the door, sword on his lap. Ready to kill if anyone dared enter. Then, you looked to the softness that cradled you. Cassian's face was covered in dirt, blood and more. He looked exhausted. Like he had been beaten, lost and beaten again. You tried a weak smile at him.  Clean rivers ran down from his eyes, revealing the dark skin underneath. "I couldn't let you get a statue without me." He said, voice trembling. You smiled the best you could and reached a hand to stroke his cheek.  "How-" You began, but he shushed you. "Just..rest for now. We can talk in the morning." He brushed a thumb over a silent tear that trickled from your eye. You nodded, and let him pull the blanket more firmly around you. Lulling you to sleep with soft humming.

[verfound]

WIP Wednesday: 4/27/22

Me, Sunday, high off Spring Break and a week away from work: "YEAH I'LL TOTALLY HAVE THIS SHITPOSTFIC READY TO GO UP WEDNESDAY!"

Me, Wednesday, crawling through the door and not even sure she's spelling 'Wednesday' right anymore serious does that word look weird to anyone else: "...blegh here's the rest of that scene fic'll happen when it happens."

“Oh my God, this is amazing.”

Sheila King froze outside her son’s bedroom door.  Her son’s closed bedroom door.  The laundry basket on her hip was completely forgotten as she heard said son moan.  And then his best mate ask in a raspy voice: “…what if we tried it like this?”

She turned towards the door, eyes wide, as a moment of silence passed.  She slowly approached the door, her hand reaching for the knob, and froze again when Perry started gagging.

“N-nah, mate,” he coughed, gasping.  “Too…too much.”

“I love it,” Luka answered, his voice low and sounding like he was lost in…ahem.

Sheila’s hand returned to her laundry basket, her face burning as she realized what exactly was going on behind that door.  She pivoted away from the door and continued on her way to her own bedroom, ready to put the folded washing away.  And blast the first CD she could find.  To give her son and his friend (boyfriend, boyfriend, they were finally boyfriends!) the privacy they deserved.

She closed her door a little louder than she probably could have, if for no other reason than to (hopefully) bring their attention to the fact that they were no longer alone.

She was halfway through putting her basket away when she heard Perry’s door open and voices retreating down the hall.  She pursed her lips as she considered the small stain on the breast of her husband’s tan cardigan that she could never seem to get out.  As happy as she was for Perry and Luka – she had been expecting this day for years – that had seemed awfully…quick.  Perhaps she had…ahem…ruined the mood by slamming the door?  Maybe neither had been comfortable continuing with her just down the hall.  Or maybe…oh, goodness.  Had the condom broke?  Had they run out?

…oh, dear.  She knew they were both boys – young men – and didn’t have to worry about pregnancy, but just because Luka couldn’t get Perry pregnant (…or vice-versa, Luka might enjoy bottoming, she didn’t judge!) they should still be using condoms.  They knew to use condoms, right?

It had just occurred to her that Peregrine had had the sex talk with their son, not her, and he was so…what with how he was raised…well.  She just wasn’t sure his sex talk had included the gay sex talk, is all.  She had never thought to confirm that with him, even after Perry and Luka had started spending so much time together.

When she heard Perry coming back up the hall a few minutes later (alone, so she assumed Luka had gone home), she dropped the cardigan she was still fiddling with and rushed towards the door.

“Perry, sweetie, can we talk?” she asked, catching him right as he was about to go into his room.  He paused, a hand on his knob…on the door, and blinked at her.  He didn’t look embarrassed at all, thank goodness.  Just confused.

“Sure, Mum,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking over to her.  “What’s up?”

She took a breath and pressed her hands together.  If she was a particularly religious woman, it would look like she was praying.  She put her fingertips to her lips, her thumbs beneath her chin, and leveled her beloved son with a Look.

…Sheila King had never been the best at giving Looks, not like Anarka Couffaine – or even Juleka Couffaine – was, so she wasn’t terribly surprised when Perry’s expression remained…somewhat blank.

“I heard Luka was here,” she finally said, slowly.  Perry blinked at her, his expression still mostly blank.  “With you.”

“…yeah?” Perry said, nodding.  Sheila swallowed.  Oh, dear.  He was going to make her spell it out for him, wasn’t he?

“In your room,” she continued, inclining her head towards him.  “Alone.”

“…er, yeah?” Perry said again, drawing the word out as he nodded.  “We’re alone in my room all the time, Mum.  You’ve never been weird about it before.  It’s just Luka.”

“Well, yes, sweetie, I know it’s just Luka, but that’s the…not problem!  It’s not a problem – not at all!” she said, waving her hands as Perry’s eyebrows rose and his mouth dropped open.  Oh, thank goodness.  He seemed to be getting it.  “I’m very happy for you both – you know I adore Luka!  It’s just…well…I don’t want to pry, Perry, but…he seemed to leave in a bit of a hurry.”

“Er, yeah,” he said, nodding.  “Marinette texted him.  Something about her dad getting a flat and not being able to pick her up.  And it’s raining, so…you know he wouldn’t just leave her stranded.”

“I know, I know, he’s a good boy,” she said, nodding.  “Man!  A good man.  A nice, good, proper, young man.  Always there to help a friend.”

Perry snorted and muttered something she didn’t quite catch.  She pushed out a breath and barreled on.

“I’m sorry, sweetie.  I know this is awkward, talking about such things with your mum, it’s just…I love you and want to make sure you’re being safe,” she said.  He froze, his eyes bugging open as his jaw dropped.

“…about what?” he asked after a moment, shaking his head.

“About Luka, sweetie,” she said, taking the few steps down the hall to reach him.  She grasped his hands and squeezed, smiling reassuringly at him.  “I know.  You two are young and in love – it’s natural.  Normal.  Expected.  I don’t mind at all, Perry – sex is beautiful.  Just promise me you’re being safe.  You are using condoms, right?”

“…fucking what?” Perry squawked, his eyes getting so large she was afraid they’d pop right out of his head.  She pursed her lips and squeezed his hands.

“For the sex,” she said, nodding towards his door.  “That you and Luka are having.  You are being safe, right, Perry?”

“When…when were…Luka and I were…fucking what?” he spluttered, shaking his head.  His eyes were still impossibly wide, his pupils so small all she could see was the beautiful brown he’d inherited from her.

“Oh, don’t be so shy, Perry – I told you I’m not mad!  It’s normal!” she sighed, swinging their hands between them.  “I heard you two just now, before he had to leave!”

She leaned in and smiled, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

“I think that Marinette girl owes you two a date night,” she said.  She jumped as Perry ripped his hands away from her, shuddering.

“Mum, no!  God, no!  No, no, no!” he said, shaking his head.  “We weren’t…Luka’s my mate!  I love him to death, but not enough to fuck him!”

“Perry, language!” she scolded, and he groaned as he rubbed at his face.  “And what do you mean you weren’t?  I heard you!  Talking about…things!”

“About the hummus, Mum!” Perry cried.  She blinked, pausing as she processed what he’d said.  Hummus…?  “We were just noodling – not like that, Mum, it’s a music thing – and we got hungry, and Luka’s never had hummus before, so we were eating hummus!  Not each other!  I mean…shit!”

His face was turning as red as his shorts.

“But…you said he was too much…” she said, shaking her head.  “And then you started coughing, like…”

His face was redder than his shorts now.  He whirled around and stormed into his room, leaving the door wide open behind him.  His bed certainly didn’t look like they’d been…up to anything…and a moment later he was storming back out, a container of hummus in one hand and a tin of diced chiles in the other.

“Because Lulu is fucking weird and likes to put actual fire in his mouth,” Perry grumped, waving the tin at her, “and I am apparently a wimp that can’t.”

“…oh, you actually were eating hummus…” she said, her face growing warm as he glared at her.  She bit her lip and studied his face.  He looked embarrassed, and maybe a little angry, but he didn’t look like he was lying to her…  “Sweetie, are you sure that’s…all you were doing?  You both sounded…”

“Oh my God, Mum, he has a girlfriend!  I have a girlfriend!” he cried, throwing his hands above his head and dropping the containers he’d been holding.  “Who has so far given me no reason to need condoms, but yes, when she does I’m sure we’ll use plenty!  God!”

He whirled around and stalked back into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sheila frowned and bent to pick up the hummus and chiles.  She knew what Perry had said, and yet…

She just wasn’t fully convinced.

[takahero]

some descriptions of Basta in Inkheart if you’re interested!! spoiler warning just to be on the safe side, in case u haven’t read it. and my unsolicited commentary here and there

“‘Naturally I recognised them at once. Capricorn had sent his best men. Even Basta was with them.’” — pg.99

“Rasping cat’s-tongue voice” pg.125

“(Basta’s face) was thin, sharply angular, with close-set eyes…Basta was not a tall man, and his shoulders were almost as narrow as a boy’s, but Meggie held her breath when he took a step towards her…He had an aura of fury about him, or something keen and biting—” pg.126

“Only Basta wore a snow-white shirt, just as Dustfinger had said, with a red flower in the buttonhole of his jacket, a red flower like a warning.” pg.131

“He caught her eye, and with a twisted smile kissed the blade of his knife.” — pg.173 (I JUST HAD TO ADD THIS)

“‘Oh, Basta can’t write,’ replied Capricorn calmly. ‘None of my men can either read or write. I’ve forbidden them to learn.’” — pg.176 (literacy rights for Basta 2k21)

“She could see the trepidation even on Basta’s face, although he was doing his best to hide it by assuming a particularly bored expression.” — pg.185

“‘Abduction!’ Basta savoured the word. ‘Sounds good to me. Really good.’” — pg.192 (ok but if u read it a certain way. unofficial evidence that basta would enjoy reading if he could LMAO)

“‘Where’s our luggage?’ she asked.

“Dustfinger looked at her with amusement. ‘I expect Basta’s divided it out among Capricorn’s maids. He likes to ingratiate himself with them.’” — pg.213 LMAOOOOOOO OH MY GOD

“Basta was still standing in the road. His face was sharply outlined when he lit a cigarette with a lighter.” — pg.215

“And he bent down to cut through the leather thong that Basta wore around his neck. It had a little bag tied with a red drawstring hanging from it.” — pg. 231

“‘Ah, Basta!’ Fenoglio smiled. Each of his separate wrinkles expressed self-satisfaction. ‘One of the best villains I ever thought up. A rabid dog, but not half as bad as my other dark hero, Capricorn. Basta would let his heart be torn out for Capricorn, but his master is a stranger to such loyalty.’” — pg.264

“‘You know, if you were to ask me which of those two I was prouder of, Basta or Capricorn, I couldn’t tell you! Even though some critics said they were just too nasty!’” — pg.265

“Basta emphasised the word, putting his foxy face so close to Meggie’s she could see herself reflected in his eyes.” — pg.301

“‘You’ll do no such thing!’ he spat at Flatnose, as the grey cat disappeared under the wardrobe. ‘Killing cats is unlucky. How often do I have to tell you?’” — pg.303 (friendly reminder that the last time he appeared, he kicked a dog in the ribs 😐)

“Basta was walking just behind her, and she heard him quietly cursing the rain.” — pg.304 (irrelevant but i kind of hc basta to like the rain, since it would dampen dustfinger’s showbiz LMAO)

“Basta’s eyes always narrowed when he smiled.” — pg.305

“‘You wear long sleeves,’ Fenoglio continued very slowly, as if giving Basta time to take in every single word, ‘because your master likes playing with fire. You burned both arms right up to the shoulders when you obeyed his orders and set fire to the house of a man who had dared to refuse his daughter to Capricorn. Ever since then, someone else has laid the fire, and you confine yourself to playing games with knives.’” — pg.308

“‘Oh, I know all about you, Basta,’ he said. ‘I know you’d give your life for Capricorn any day, and you’re always hungry for his praise. I know you were younger than Meggie when his men picked you up, and ever since you’ve loved him like a father. But shall I tell you something? Capricorn thinks you’re stupid, and despises you for it. He despises you all, his devoted black-clad sons, although it’s his own doing that you’re still so ignorant. And he wouldn’t hesitate to set the police on to any one of you if it was to his advantage. Are you quite clear about that?’” — pg.308 (FENOGLIO…..RUTHLESS)

“Basta winked at Meggie.” — pg.310 (wink 1)

“Every cruel deed with which he had ever credited Basta was probably going through his head. Basta relished the fear on his face for a few delicious minutes.” — pg.312

“Basta’s car had not been in the car park at all since they’d come here. It was unusual for it to be gone so long, because Basta didn’t like to be away from the village for any length of time.” — pg.318 basta is a homebody guys

“‘Save your tongue for later, scribbler!” Basta interrupted. ‘I don’t like whispering.’” — pg.324

“Almost all the women in the village kept away from Basta, but he didn’t keep away from them.” — pg.337

“‘Take him, for instance,’ he said, pointing to Basta. ‘I always knew he was a very unhappy boy before you picked him up. As it says in another very fine book, it’s terribly easy to persuade children that they are worthless. Basta was convinced of it. Not that you taught him any better, oh no! Why would you? But suddenly here was someone to whom he could devote himself, someone who told him what to do — he’d found a god, Capricorn, and if you treated him badly, well, who says that all gods are kindly? Most of them are stern and cruel, wouldn’t you agree? I didn’t write all this in the book. I knew it, that was enough.’” — pg.345 (this is really the part that made my stance toward basta change. like PHEW. that’s a lot to unpack)

“Basta was notorious for his silent tread.” — pg.363

“Basta’s breath smelled of mint, fresh and sharp. Apparently a girl he’d once wanted to kiss had told him he had bad breath. The girl had regretted it, but ever since then Basta chewed peppermint leaves from morning to night.” — pg.364

“He whistled softly through his teeth, then held the book close to Meggie’s face.”— pg.374 (i was rendered speechless)

“Basta’s lips quivered with annoyance, but he bit back his reply and, without a word, put his hand under the black cloth.” — pg.377 (ugh I loved this. like we know he worships capricorn like a dog, but earlier fenoglio flat out told him capricorn couldn’t care less about what happened to him. more than that, capricorn asked basta to bring meggie and fenoglio — prisoners — into his home. later dustfinger says that basta would’ve slept on the threshold of capricorn’s room if he could but none of the men sleep there. so with all of this fresh in his mind, you can imagine him feeling quite hurt and betrayed. UGH I wish he had a greater arc surrounding capricorn…like even if we saw a few hints that his loyalty was starting to show cracks…idk what his arc is in inkspell so maybe I’ll sit tight for that)

“He was in a hurry to get back to the light of day, away from the dead and their ghosts. His hand shook as he hung his lantern on a book and opened the grating over the first cell.” — pg.409

“Dustfinger was always surprised to find how easily you could scare the man with a few words.” — pg.409 LMAOOOOO

“‘That notion of burning us isn’t a very new idea, Basta, but then you were never fond of new ideas.’” — pg.422

“His teeth were almost as white as his shirt.” — pg.442

“Meggie saw from his face that everything in him felt revulsion, but he came closer and took the creature. He held the scaly body well away from him as it wound and twisted in the air.

“‘As you see, Basta doesn’t care for my snakes!’ said the Magpie, with a smile. ‘He never did, not that that means much. As far as I know Basta doesn’t like anything but his knife. He also believed that snakes bring bad luck, which of course is pure nonsense.’ Mortola handed Basta the second snake. Meggie saw the viper’s tiny poison fangs when it opened its mouth. For a moment, she almost felt sorry for Basta.” — pg.446

“‘Basta likes to use snakes to scare women who reject his advances. It didn’t work with Resa. How did it go exactly — didn’t she finally put the snake outside your door, Basta?’” — pg.446 (10/10 resa & snake well-deserved)

“Basta did not want neighbours. Indeed, he wanted no other company but Capricorn’s. Dustfinger knew Basta would have slept on the threshold of Capricorn’s room if he had been allowed to, but none of the men lived in the main house.” — pg.478

“Basta was probably the only man in Capricorn’s village who locked his front door.” — pg.480

“They said in the village that whenever Capricorn had a house set on fire Basta took away a brick or stone, even though he feared fire at other times, and clearly that story was true.” — pg.480

“(Everything in Basta’s house was scrubbed clean, as spotless as his snow-white shirt.)” — pg.481

“Once or twice, footsteps approached, but each time they passed by the house. What a good thing Basta had no friends.” — pg.482

“Basta was not in a good way. Whenever they looked at him they saw his hands clinging to the bars, knuckles white under his sun-tanned skin.” — pg.503 (BASTA’S SUNTANNED?!?!)

“Basta in particular was the object of enough scorn and derision for ten men, and from his failure to react at all one could only guess at the depths of his despair.” — pg.503

“For the fraction of a second life came back into Basta as his former lord and master stopped by the bars; he raised his head, his eyes pleading silently, like a dog begging for forgiveness…Basta only bowed his head and stared at the floor. Elinor thought he looked like an oyster with the flesh and life sucked out of it.” — pg.504 (i honestly still can’t wrap my head around his behaviour in this chap. i mean yes, the gladiator-style death sentence looming over his head can’t be understated. but i think for me it was how rapidly his spirits deteriorated from screaming for help in the cell to becoming a husk of a man before he even saw capricorn again? how?? was it all because of dustfinger spooking him so bad in the crypt?? 🤔🤔)

[hepalien]

Shrunkyclunks (Modern Bucky/Cap Steve) Fic Rec

Hate Sex & Hair Protocol by @maddiewritesstucky - Mature, 1.8k

SHIELD Agent Bucky, UST, Enemies to Lovers (in Steve’s head), Humor

They’re all full of shit, Steve decides.

His team don’t have a clue what they’re talking about, running their mouths about the way he and Bucky look at each other; the tension that seems to be at a constant near-snapping point between them.

'It’s called annoyance' Steve wants to yell in each of their faces, loud and one by one. It’s the pain of having to exist every day in close proximity with someone who drives you out of your fucking mind.

---

In which Steve discovers that ire and desire may just exist side by side in his brain.

Stop interrupting my grinding series by @rohkeutta - Teen, 2.5k

Nurse Bucky, Wrong Number, Fluff, Humor

“I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

“Someone who’s watching you live on TV,” Bucky tells him as the tiny patriotic figure on the screen takes the turns like he instructed. Bucky should probably be a lot more freaked out about this, but honestly? After a tour in the Middle East and six years as a nurse in New York, even this isn’t enough to ruffle him. One sees a lot of shit in the ER. “Also, you better hang up now, that thing is behind the next bend.”

“Uh, okay,” Captain America says. “Thanks?”

“Whatever,” Bucky says, disconnects the call and turns the TV off to get ready for his shift.

Save a Horse, Ride a Captain by @galwednesday - Teen, 2.7k

War Vet Bucky, Meet Cute, Fluff, Humor, Modern Howlies

Bucky tapped him on the shoulder, swaying back and forth a little as he waited for the man to turn around. “Hello,” he said, and then promptly forgot what else he was going to say, because this guy was fucking beautiful. “Wow. Good face.”

Two of the guy’s friends, a man wearing a suit that fit so well it had to be bespoke and a man with a cute little gap between his front teeth, started cracking up. The petite redhead sitting next to them cocked her head to the side and pulled her phone out of her handbag. Beautiful Face just looked kind of pained, so Bucky redirected. He was a gentleman. He could take a hint. No hitting on beautiful guys who were uncomfortable with that sort of thing, no matter how lickable their jawlines were.

“Hello,” he repeated, doing his best to mind his manners. “I’m very sorry to bother you. Can I have a piggy-back ride?”

You Make My Heart Skip A Beet by @musette22 - Teen, 3.8k

Chef Bucky, POV Outsider, Fluff, Humor

“I made soda bread.”

Steve lets out the 6’2” supersoldier equivalent of a squeak. “Oh, I love soda bread,” he says eagerly, rolling forward on the balls of his feet like he does when he gets excited. “My mom used to make it all the time when I was growing up.”

The tips of Barnes’s ears turn red, and he mutters something that sounds suspiciously like, “I know.”

more under the cut

Cafe Au Écoute by @littlesystems - Teen, 3.8k

Coffee Shop AU

No matter where Steve goes, there's always the chance that he'll overhear a conversation about himself - or rather, Captain America. This coffee shop is no different. The fact that he keeps eavesdropping well past the point of plausible deniability is another matter entirely.

#TweetMeDaddy by StarSpangled - Teen, 4.1k

SHIELD Employee Bucky, Misunderstandings, Crack, Humor

Coulson, for his part, stares up at Bucky with such a betrayed look of frozen horror that Natasha actually goes the extra step and presses another button, capturing the moment and airdropping the photograph to her phone for posterity. When he speaks, his voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. “Why…?” He swallows and starts again, trying for some semblance of normality. “...Why would you tweet something like that?!”

“If you must know, sir,” and somehow he manages to make ‘sir’ come out with the same inflection most people reserve for ‘motherfucking son of a bitch’, “it’s because I have a difficult time doing my job when my job involves monitoring the man with the best fucking ass in the United States of America.” He slowly lowers himself back into his seat until he’s at eye level, making extreme eye contact with Coulson until Coulson turns away to make mortified eye contact in Natasha’s general direction through the one-way glass. Natasha would take another picture, if she weren’t too busy catching Steve’s red-faced sputtering. “Sometimes, I vent to my Twitter followers. Sometimes, it’s about hot men with washboard abs. Can I go now, or do you need a graphic description of how I pleasure myself at night?”

at first chance i'd take the bed warmed by the body by @spacebuck - Explicit, 8.2k

YouTuber Bucky

This close, Steve can see exactly how beautiful his hands are. He’s never really noticed before, or at least he’s never really had a reason to notice, but the man’s hands are large, tanned like he works outside all day. There’s an endearing callus on the heel of one of his palms, and Steve can’t quite work out when calluses became endearing.

Steve pauses the video. Swallows hard. Casts his eyes around for anything that’ll keep his mind off the hands on his screen, off the words inked into those hands, the delicate shape of a bird’s wing, the curling edge of a vine.

He looks down. The name of the channel is right there, blaring the man’s name right into Steve’s brain until it feels like he’s known it all along.

Bucky Barnes.

OR: the one where Bucky's a youtuber who solves puzzles on camera, and steve's smitten and horny

Came with my cool (I dropped it) by @liionne - Teen, 9.2k

Yoga Instructor Bucky

"When you said I need to loosen up, I didn't think you meant literally."

"I meant it every way. Mentally, emotionally, and physically." Natasha says, and thrusts a yoga mat at him.

there once was a diamond by bloobeary - Teen, 11.3k

Fluff, Thanksgiving

"You," Becca seethes, and hits him with a wooden spoon. "Could have told me," Hits him again. "You were dating Captain America." Final hit, Bucky laughs. He supposes he deserves it, giving her no more information than the fact he was bringing his boyfriend to Thanksgiving dinner at her house and then showing up with Steve.

Salt by littleblackfox @thelittleblackfox - Mature, 12k

Bakery AU

The cinnamon roll is gone in four bites. Four indecent, jaw-unhinging bites, and Steve sucks the last traces of lemon and icing from his fingers with a low, throaty sound of satisfaction. He glances up at Bucky, who is leaning against the counter and watching him with avid fascination.

“Um…” Steve says around his index finger. There’s still a little icing on the bed of his fingernail, and he stops trying to work it off with his tongue.

“You know those movies where the girl eats an eclair or something, and it’s really, like, sexually charged?” Bucky asks.

Steve pulls his finger out of his mouth. He’s never seen that kind of movie, but the thought of Bucky eating an eclair is certainly… well, it lingers. “Uh?”

“Yeah, well that was the exact opposite.” Steve scowls, and Bucky cackles gleefully. “You are something else, Steve.”

Leg Day by Brokenpitchpipe - Explicit, 12.1k

Gym Thot Bucky

“So talk to him,” Sam says.

“I can’t,” Bucky groans. “I can’t, Sam, I. He just.” He fluffs his hair up and stares at Sam, distraught. “I want him to bench press me.”

“Okay, so it’s serious,” Sam interprets. “Got it."

(Or: The one where Sam is Bucky's long-suffering roommate, Bucky is a hot mess of a millennial, and Hot Steve spends far too much time on the Lat Pull-Down machine.)

Art Nouveau by voluptuous_panic - Explicit, 12.2k

Bartender Bucky, Tattooed & Pierced Bucky

Steve's on the worst date of his life. At least the bartender's cute.

much tattoo about nothing by @deisderium - Explicit, 14.5k

Tattoo Artist Bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

No Wonder There's Panic in the Industry by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Not Rated (I’d say Mature?), 20.5k

Stark Industries Intern Bucky, Team fic, Humor

In which Bucky Barnes and his BFF, Clint Barton, are NYU interns for Stark Media Group competing to be Pepper's favorite.

Or alternatively, the time Bucky assisted the P.A. team on the Steve Rogers piece and ended up (adopted) with a contact list full of Avengers.

Life of the Party by @aggressivewhenstartled - Explicit, 21.6k

Superhero Impersonator Bucky, Mistaken Identity

“You know, kids,” Steve heard from the backyard, “one of the most common threats a superhero has to face is inside an active volcano! We’re going to have to work on your evasion skills, so for the next five minutes, the floor is lava!” This was met by a sudden spike in both volume and pitch from the small children as they scrambled onto every raised surface they could find and immediately launched themselves right back off.

“I’ve never seen actual lava in my entire life,” Steve said, vaguely offended.

“You got a superhero impersonator for The Falcon’s niece’s birthday party,” Sam said, incredulous. “The Falcon, who is an actual superhero.”

Trust Enough by @geneticallydead - Explicit, 23.3k

Misunderstandings

“Saturday. Yeah, that’s good,” Steve says, and actually scuffs his shoe at the ground. Like a ridiculous shy superhero damsel. “Say eight? I live-“

“Yeah, big building with the A on it,” Bucky says, and can’t help a big stupid grin. Steve stares at him, looking a little dazed, and after their whole conversation it’s only now that Bucky’s brain catches up and realises Steve finds him quite attractive. So. Win for Bucky.

“Let me get your number,” Steve says finally, after they’ve stared stupidly at each other for about three hours, taking out his phone.

So they exchange numbers, and then Steve says he should go, and Bucky agrees, and they kind of stare at each other for a bit more, then Steve actually does go, but not before taking Bucky’s hand and squeezing it warmly in a way that makes Bucky want to shiver all over. Then Steve is gone, and Bucky is standing alone in the alley, grinning to himself.

Right up until the moment he remembers that Steve thinks Bucky is an escort he’s just hired.

Well fuck.

The Roommate by layersofart, Niitza - Teen, 28.6k

War Vet Bucky, Roommates AU, Humor, Fluff, Angst, Team fic

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

Brooklyn Baby by sprinkle_of_cinnamon - Mature, 33.7k

Coffee Shop AU, Modern Howlies, Mistaken Identity, Team Fic

In which Bucky is just trying to live life and enjoy his unofficial official table at the obnoxiously hipster coffee shop but some guy named Steve stole his spot.

Or, the time that Bucky unintentionally befriended the Avengers and had no idea.

Never Talk to Strangers by mambo @whtaft - Teen, 40.4k

Grad Student Bucky, Slow Burn

Never Talk to Strangers: or; How a Forgotten Childhood Lesson Led Bucky Barnes to Appreciate Charlie Chaplin, Befriend an A.I., Slip on Soap Bubbles, Be Mistaken for a Succubus, and Try to Woo a Superhero.

Sinking Our Teeth In The Heart Of The Sun by fallendarlings @pressrestartwrites - Explicit, 102.8k

Single Dad Bucky, Kid Fic, Slow Burn, Domestic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Steve has Autism

Bucky Barnes never intended to become a single father at 25. But life has always enjoyed kicking him while he's down and it's showing no signs of stopping. A chance meeting with a brick wall of a guy named Steve in the formula aisle of the grocery store leads to a friendship it seems like both of them need. If only Bucky could remember that's all they are- friends. If only Steve didn't slot into their lives so perfectly and look so good spoiling Bucky's daughter (and Bucky, despite his protests).

Oh, if only Steve didn't turn out to be Captain America.

Steve Rogers is wandering around a world that he doesn't fit into, fighting for a government that he doesn't trust, just because he doesn't know what to do with himself if he ever relaxes long enough to actually think about anything other than the next mission.

And then came Bucky Barnes and his newborn baby.

More recs

[stars-trash-18]

Home lll

Ngl this was kind of a filler chapter. but it’s what I got, if anything this will give you more background on reader and the planet’s history.

Again please message me about corrections about anything, especially if I use anything gendered or with racial descriptions. 

You did as promised, you delivered some crops and spare farming supplies. After that you turned your focus back home. You went about as normal, getting Attila to school, smoking meats, tanning hides, and prepping everything else for the monthly market. The town several miles from your ranch had a weekly market for smaller sales, but once a month they had a large fair to sell bulk items for better prices. It helped keep some income during the weeks coming in and when the fair happened it brought in tourists or larger buyers to bring in the bulk income for many of the families, including yours.

 Over the years you had gained the reputation of being one of the better ranchers to buy livestock off of. You cared for them like they were your own children and made sure that everyone walked away with a decent price, whether or not you gained a profit or broke even. 

Because of this the fair became one of the only markets you showed up to, you'd bring your products and had the city wives falling over themselves for the leather and furs, the galactic ranchers trying to outbid each other for whatever prized bull you brought with you, and the smaller families happy when you turned the wealthier business to them. Because, although you had a wider range of product than most other farmers, you made sure to make a sly comment about others like, "The Ferdorick's leather products are some of the finest, if you decide to buy from me i'm sure they'd make this hide into a wonderful jacket,". 

Something you valued so much more than the core worlds was the community that surrounded the outer rim planet, in planets like Coruscant people walked by the needy everyday. But here if someone needed shelter or something to eat the locals would give it to them, whether they were one meal away from the same fate or not, they still extended a hand and gave what they could. They did it for you when you ran, when you first landed with Attila balanced on your shoulders wondering what to do it was the Ganoris' who set you up in their spare bedroom, the Ferdoricks who taught you how to tan hides and gave you your first 5 head of cattle, and the Actorias who gathered the materials and taught you how to build and thatch. You were a stranger who was more dangerous than they knew, but they extended their hands to you and you work so that you can prosper and help them too. So when the Armorer landed on your doorstep you wondered if it would be wrong to turn her away, because you were tired of seeing people.

You enjoyed chatting with those you knew, but seeing so many strangers more than once a month made your social batteries drain. But you reluctantly invited her in and sat across from her at your table as you went about preparing the morning coffee. Already preparing yourself for the long day ahead. She sat regaly for someone who was so weary weeks prior, she reminded you of the tall bamboo stalks from your ex’s estate with how she could go from being bent with stress to tall and strong. She only watched you carefully as you moved around your small kitchen and rested a hand onto the table, only moving it to say no when you offered her a mug. 

“How can I help you today, is everything alright?” you inquired carefully, blowing the steam away to cool the sweet nectar of the gods. 

“Everything is alright in our new home, it’s been a long time since we’ve been able to call anything that,” she receded, her voice filled with warmth at her family’s good fortune before she continued.

“I’m here to ask if you would be willing to help us again, we’d like to gain some income but don’t know how we’d be received by the community and we’d prefer to stay as hidden as possible,” she breathed a heavy sigh when she finished. You blinked at her owlishly for a moment before giving her a calming smile and leaned back in your chair.

“I’d be glad to help, from what little I know of Mandalorian culture your people are famous for their care of those they consider family and it’s the same here,” You paused to sip your coffee before further explaining, “ There’s a story that the natives tell, the natives that have been here long before space exploration, that this planet was steeped in war but over time as the war dragged on the blood spilled by the fallen started to poison it, causing more to die from starvation than battle itself,”

“They came to the agreement that to preserve themselves they had to merge, it took many years but finally there was peace and balance, they shared their knowledge with each other and valued cooperation and helping others and that has remained the same since, they are wary of outsiders but would still help them at any cost, because with all the bad in this galaxy they hope to heal it one person at a time,” you finished before pausing again in thought, “But don’t mistake the peace for weakness mandalorian, the people of this planet will still fight if it’s the last thing to do, because though they prefer peace if you threaten their homes and family they fight like you wouldn’t believe, now onto the business at hand,” you chimed as you pulled your datapad in front of you.

“That was insightful, all the same. We'd like it if one of our own accompanies you to the market so you can show them how this planet works,” She replied thoughtfully, tapping her fingertips onto the table briefly in thought. “We understand that there are a few threats to you at the monthly fair but Paz has volunteered to accompany you to help carry your goods and some of ours with the added benefit of protection, from what i’m told you’re more than capable but at this moment it is the only labor we can provide,” she clarified. “ We'll give you a percentage of our sales since by extension we’re using your reputation to do so and to compensate for you teaching Paz the ropes, because what he learns with you he’ll bring to us,” she further revealed.

You huffed a laugh before waving your hand at her, “nonsense, here knowledge is free and openly shared, I’ll send you the coordinates for the public libraries and can have Attila look out for your children if you ever decide to put them into the school, besides you have more mouths to feed than I do and I could frankly use an extra set of hands at the market so this will go towards you’re payment for the land,” you receded. The armorer jolted for a moment at your news, her breathing seeming to stutter for a moment before she straightened further.

“Very well I accept the terms, I must ask however why you show us such hospitality,” she prodded, you understood what she really meant. She was trying to find any ulterior motive, and you could see why with how the mandalorians have been treated throughout their history. So you only thought for a moment before answering her, setting your mug down and looking to the floor to try and keep the memories at bay.

“I was running from someone who wanted me dead and to take my son, I was an intelligence officer for the resistance during the war so I knew that this planet would be the safest and furthest away, when I got here all I had was a small bag with necessities and little Attila slung over my shoulders,” You breathed in heavily to try and build a wall around the memories that flashed into your mind, trying not to get thrown into an episode, “I had nothing, but the people here took care of us, they helped me and as the saying goes taught  me to fish,” you smiled softly at the memory of the elderly patriarch of the Actorias lecturing you.

“So to repay them for their kindness is to pass it forward and no one is more deserving than the Mandalorians, you guys were really screwed over by history,” you finished with a slight chuckle and turning back to the mandalorian matriarch, who sat rigidly. She rose from her seat at the table and placed her arm over her chest and bowed slightly.

“That was all I needed so I’ll take my leave, but know that you have a clan of mandalorians in your debt, those who threaten you threaten us,” she said like a vow before she swiftly turned and walked out of your home. Using the jetpack you didn’t even notice light up as she took off back towards the bunker. 

~~~~POV switch to earlier that week~~~~~~

“Paz you don’t have to be the one to accompany the rancher, we can send one of our more experienced merchants to better learn the trade,” The Armourer explained with a hand to the front of her helmet in exasperation.

“I know, but if you send me it’ll be better to gauge how the people would react to us, I can also provide security,” He stressed, adamant about being the one sent to learn.

“From what you told me they are their own security, you just find them attractive,” Din teased his brother playfully, earning an elbow to the side gap in his armor from Paz and a groan from the Armourer.

“Enough you two, Paz if you’re so enthralled with the rancher I’ll grant your request now both of you out,” she reprimanded before waving her tongs at them in dismissal so she wouldn’t have to deal with their childishness.

As they left Din passed his brother with one last jab, “try to learn a little Verde”.

[obaewankenobis]

for forever — obi-wan kenobi

pairing(s)  :  obi-wan kenobi x reader ( mostly focused on obi-wan’s character, not the relationship because i am a hoe for this man )

summary  :  after the fall of the jedi order, you can finally be together. alternatively, obi-wan needs therapy/deserves happiness.

word count  :  2.1k

warning(s)  :  character death, a bit of angst i guess but it’s mostly fluff.

notes   :  roughly edited so i apologize if things don’t make sense, i honestly came up with this on a whim and have No Idea what was going through my head when i wrote this. the povs also switch a lot but enjoy </3.

       The sand bit at his fair skin, the grainy winds of Tatooine ruffled through his auburn locks, peppered with strands of grey, as Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, rigid and grief stricken. Kind wrinkles framed his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion and desolation, the memory of a thousand wars flickering in the brilliant blue reflection. Without speaking, the woman looking at him from afar knew he had suffered a lifetime of hardship and grief, his aching heart not given a moment to mourn the loss of those closest to him. The mahogany cloak billowed around his body, covering the burnt, tattered tan robes he wore, as the wind picked up, signaling there would be little time before the twin suns set and it was much too dangerous to be outside. Snuggled between the lone man’s arms, swathed in soft cream blankets to shelter him from the cruel and unforgiving weather, was a baby. With sea blue eyes and the sparse tufts of pale blonde hair, the newborn was the mirror image of his father — that in itself was bittersweet.

       Fire. That was all Obi-Wan could remember, the smoldering lava confining him and his enemy — once his friend, his brother — inside a tight circle of flashing blue and blazing rage. Now, things were blissfully quiet, as if the universe was trying to give him peace of mind after what it had taken from him. With heavy shoulders and hollow eyes, Obi-Wan was a shell of who he used to be: a great warrior and an excellent negotiator, all gone. His last mission was here, on Tatooine, to deliver the baby to his aunt and uncle: Owen and Beru Lars. Then, he would spend the rest of his years wasting away in a sandy prison, languishing in his defeat.

       “Is it true?” The woman from afar, who had taken to staring at him from a distance, finally approached him, awaiting his answer with bated breath — Beru. Is it true? The words reverberated in his head, as the reality came crashing down upon him. The woman in front of him needed certainty, she needed answers, answers Obi-Wan could not give her.

       “Yes,” came the final reply. Who knew a single word could hold such heavy meaning? Yes. An entire government who’s history spanned hundreds of years prior collapsed within a single day? Yes, that had happened. His religion, who he had devoted his entire life to and poured his soul into, gone? Yes, decimated without a sliver of mercy. The baby’s father, the hero of the galaxy, the crown jewel of the Jedi Order, killed? Yes, murdered in cold blood.

       Beru finally brought her attention to the boy nestled within the robes of the man. “Is he . . . ” She seemed to only speak in half questions, as if finishing the sentence would make it a harsh reality, and leaving the query to hang heavy in the air would somehow leave her life in a fairytale.

       “Yes,” he replied again, nearly choking on his words as the boy let out a tiny coo, as if he sensed they were discussing him.

       “Oh.” There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation, before the woman decided to continue her pattern of half inquiries to form her own story. “May I?” With shaking arms, Beruu reached forward to take the boy from Obi-Wan’s grasp and welcome the baby into her own warm embrace. Part of him didn’t want to let the child go, for once he did he would have no real connection to his past life. Letting go of the boy meant letting go of everything, from his first steps in the Temple, to his meeting with his apprentice on Naboo, to the countless, sleepless nights in a war torn galaxy, it would all be gone. The woman’s tender smile and patient gaze was nearly patronizing, she was trying to sympathize with something she couldn’t possibly understand. No one could. A wave of fury washed over him, trapping him in a cage of his own emotions. Obi-Wan had never felt such an intensity roll over his body, preferring to keep his temperament a tranquil, emotionless pit. But this raw, uncontrollable fury was soon washed out with an even more overpowering bout of sorrow, shaking him with such force it made his knees wobble and threaten to give way. For over thirty years he was taught emotions were the enemy, by being detached and aloof he would survive, and look where that had gotten him.  

      Another soft cry from the baby jerked Obi-Wan back into the present moment, as his tiny arms reached for the woman, drawn to her sunny kindness and comforting aura; he realized a place to call home or a comforting shoulder to cry on was never something he could offer as the baby grew older. The woman made a small clicking sound with her tongue, looking up at Obi-Wan with an expectant gaze, and yet his grip on the baby remained the same. Although his mind seemed desperate to listen to logic, to reason, his body remained motionless, following the dull ache and painful longing in his heart. The battle between his mind and emotions lasted a fraction of a second, and at last, as it had time and time again, his mind won.

       Like he had done all his life, selflessly sacrificing himself for thee good of the galaxy, he let go.

     The woman took the baby in her arms, and began her journey back to her homestead, pausing just slightly to exchange one last parting smile and a word of comfort. “I think someone wants to see you, Master Kenobi.” With that, Beru began walking, a happy baby in her arms, to her husband, just as the sky merged from clear blue to salmon pink and hazy orange, the twin suns beginning to disappear over the horizon rapidly. As the light dimmed and dusk settled in, the man could make out the shadowy figures of Beru and Owen Lars, holding Luke Skywalker in unmoving content.

       Here to see me? Obi-Wan frowned, reflecting on the woman’s words. This was not his home, his very identity was supposed to remain a secret, who could possibly want to see him? Unless . . .

       No, that was impossible. He had mourned your death just as he had mourned every other Jedi’s death the moment their own clones turned against them, and he would not allow even a tiny sliver of hope to crawl its way back into his heart. Because in the end, he could only cling to the belief that things would get better, and false hope in such a desperate time would be his undoing.

—

       You wondered how long you could stand in the shadows before he noticed you, standing awkwardly by his dewback as he delivered Padmé and Anakin's son to his new family. Like Obi-Wan, you had suffered the loss of everything and everyone you knew, your entire life destroyed in the span of a second, and all you could do was stand there, watching everything burn. The Jedi robes you once wore with pride, robes that were once a symbol of humility and hope across the galaxy, now put a priceless bounty on the head of anyone who wore them.

       “Obi-Wan?” The name was dry in your throat, mouth parched and lips cracked due to the harsh Tatooine heat.

       Though he was always subtle, you could see his entire demeanor change, the way his shoulders became straighter, the way his hands, once balled up into fists of worry, were now relaxed and laying loosely at his side. In a moment, he had turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, caramel boots growing dull and scuffed as he stepped through the unforgiving desert surface beneath him. “You’re alive,” his voice came out in a hushed, cautious tone, disbelief still tainting the edges. “I thought — Yoda and I — the only ones left — ” his words grew more jumbled with each passing phrase that left his lips.

       “But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off, the calm gentleness of your tone making him stop in his tracks. Slowly, each movement pained and deliberate, you stepped closer, inching your way forward until he was right in front of you. Neither of you could look away; with the Jedi Order dead, there was no reason to hide in secrecy now.

—

       To realize he was not alone was comforting, but to know it was you he could seek company in was freeing. In that moment, with the distance so close between your bodies, Obi-Wan dared not breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out the smallest of breaths — this was all he had ever wanted, and still, despite everything, it was something he believed he could never have.

       He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Not after he spent all those years repressing the desire that burned so deeply within him it began to rot within his heart, trapped with no release in sight. At one point, he had every reason to deny the yearning stirring within him, but now? Now there was no war, no Council, no code, no nothing to stop himself from unleashing decades of pent up turmoil within him.

       And stars, it was suffocating.

       He couldn’t do this.

       “You know you don’t have to push me away any more.” A suggestion more than a factual statement; voice thick and barely audible.

       Was this a dream, a fantasy meant to be chased after in his sleep? Or some sick, twisted premonition the Force was trying to convey to him? So many nights he had spent languishing in his loneliness, dazed in a delusion that remained but a figment of his imagination.

       “I know.”

       “What?”

       “The Jedi are no more. We . . . We don’t have to pretend we don’t have  — ” The words were bittersweet on his tongue; even with no one there to watch and scold him, he could not betray his way of life so easily. That everyone I have ever loved, I have watched die in my arms? And throughout all of that, I have never been tempted by the dark side, but if I lost you, I would be afraid of my own morality? Those were not easy thoughts to formulate into a coherent sentence — there were no words Obi-Wan could say that would even begin to describe how he felt.

       Instead, in a tender gesture of vulnerability, he reached out through the Force, and all at once it came crashing down on him.

       This feeling . . . it was all consuming, and he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water and not surrender to its frosty depths. He was submerged in an endless stretch of icy ocean water so frigid and numbing, that he felt nothing and everything all at once. It was terrifying to think — and let you know — you held so much power over him, but in the same instance, he felt at peace, like a weight he had dragged around for decades was finally lifted off his shoulders. I love you, rang as bright as the city lights on Coruscant and as clear as a Nabooian waterfall. I love you.

       “I love you, too.” He heard your voice in a soft whisper, swelled up with emotion as you took in everything. Chills erupted down his spine; he couldn't quite tell if it was from the inky blanket being tugged across the sky as dusk descended into nightfall, or if it was the four word phrase that left your lips.

—

       “I cannot live without you,” Obi-Wan let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning across your face just slightly, your foreheads making contact in the lightest movements. You felt dizzy, in a dreamlike trance, for you had never been this close to him. You could see every horror he had survived in his glassy blue eyes, notice every perfect imperfection that blemished his skin and made him all the more real. In a moment, his face had become blurred as he closed the distance and finally, finally, his lips were on yours, and you connected in a long awaited, eternally sought after kiss. You could feel his hands, calloused but gentle, cupping your face, as your own fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, the kiss grew more fervent and needy, every rule you had ever lived by crumbling as you melted deeper into his touch.

       After a long moment, you broke away, breathless, your face still tantalizingly close to his.

       “I will never leave you, Obi-Wan,” your lips parted in a determined vow, a promise you would keep to your dying breath. The Jedi were dead, and yet you never felt more alive.

[dykeninthdoctor]

“ironhusbands, pre relationship, focusing on them in their first year of college and being like rhodey really realizing how young tony is” and “sweater sharing”

“Have you heard–“

“Did you see–“

“He went to Rob’s party–“

The whispers are carried to him on the wind, full of rumors, sometimes lies, sometimes truths.

Jim doesn’t care. He knows Tony Stark–the heir to the Stark empire, son of the legend, Howard Stark–is on campus, but he doesn’t care.

There’s no reason for him to.

The kid is 16, apparently, a prodigy for his age, which Jim could’ve guessed, and he gives zero shits about his education.

Jim hasn’t heard anything about the kid going to classes; only about parties, and girls, and sometimes, the whispers mention boys, too. They call Stark a charmer, a slut, a flirt, and worse.

Maybe Jim cares a little bit.

Stark is 16, and he already has a reputation, one that scares Jim.

“Oh my God, did you see how much he drank last night?” a girl says, eyes wide in a mockery of surprise.

“He never seems like he’s drunk, though,” her friend says.

Jim frowns.

“Maybe it runs in the family,” the first girl teases, and then they’re both laughing, walking in the other direction.

Jim frowns harder.

-

He goes to a party the next chance he gets.

Stark is there, in the center of it all, holding court like a prince standing on the backs of his adoring subjects. He’s sprawled across a sofa, legs draped across the lap of a girl whose hand is resting on the inside of his thigh, head in the lap of another girl whose lips are staining marks of red across his jaw.

Stark’s eyes are glazed, the smile he wears is taped on, and Jim realizes with a sinking feeling that it’s all a mask. A mask hastily built, a mask with cracks that Stark uses alcohol to fill, so that no one can see the emotions behind it.

Jim doesn’t know how, or why, but he can.

“A toast,” Stark slurs, raising the plastic cup in his hand, “To dear ol’ dad, who sent me to this lovely institution.”

A cheer goes up around the room.

Stark drinks.

Jim’s moving before he realizes, shoving his way past people, fighting to get to Stark, snapping sharply, “C’mon, Tony, let’s go.”

To his surprise, and fear, Stark gets up and takes his hand without second thought. Jim tries not to think about why.

When he takes Stark outside, the kid–because God, he’s just a kid–looks up at him with a raised brow and a smirk made of plaster. “We’re gonna do it outside? You’re into exhibitionist shit, huh?”

And then he’s on his knees in front of Jim, and Jim’s trying not to throw up.

“No–shit, no, please stand up, Stark–“

“What?”

It’s the confusion in his voice that finally does it, and Jim’s retching into the bushes that line the house behind them, coughing up bile.

He hears the clumsy motions of Stark getting to his feet, feels a small but calloused hand on his back, sees Stark’s face–eyes wide, lips parted in a small o, the face of a kid–and then throws up more bile onto the leaves.

“I’m sorry?” Stark offers quietly, and it’s so different from the brassy, loud, slurred voice of the prince Jim saw only minutes ago.

“How old are you?” Jim asks. It’s not what he meant to say, but as Stark’s eyes go a little wider, he knows he needs to know the answer, because it’s not 16.

“I’m almost 15.”

Jim tries not to throw up again.

-

He takes Stark back to his dorm, with its single bed and tiny cork board with pictures of Momma Robbie and Jeanie tacked up, with the single poster of a galaxy taped to his wall and the precarious stack of textbooks on his desk.

Stark drowns in his clothes, the knitted sweatshirt hanging off his shoulder, revealing a collarbone littered with hickeys, the sweatpants hanging low on his hips, showing bruises the shape of fingers pressed into tan skin.

“Why?”

The question rings out in the silent room.

“Why what?”

“Why are you being…like this?”

“Because you need this,” Jim says.

Stark just looks at him, his chest rising and falling with exaggerated slow breaths, his eyes blinking slowly, his hands clenched in fists at his sides.

“C’mon, get in bed.”

When Stark doesn’t move, Jim freezes.

“No, Stark–not like that. I’m not gonna do anything with you–to you. We’re not doing anything. You deserve a safe place to sleep. I’m gonna do homework, okay?”

“Okay,” Stark says quietly.

When he falls asleep, curled around the only pillow in Jim’s bed, he looks even younger.

Jim makes himself a promise.

A promise to protect Stark.

-

The next day, when he wakes up with his face pressed to the pages of his physics textbook, and his bed rumpled but empty, he realizes protection is not what Stark wants.

Too bad, Jim thinks. Too fucking bad.

-

It’s harder than he thinks to find Stark; even if the kid doesn’t attend classes, there aren’t parties during the day.

The whispers don’t tell him anything, and today, they’re about him.

“He went home with him, just like that–“

“Have you see him around before?”

“Stark just listened to him–“

Jim ignores them.

He goes to his classes, he takes notes, he tries to focus.

He also thinks about where Stark might be hiding.

-

He doesn’t have to think too hard; Stark’s sitting in his dorm when he gets back after his 5:00 lecture.

The door was locked, but Stark didn’t seem to have any difficulty with that.

“Hi,” Stark says.

“What the fuck,” Jim says back.

Stark shrugs. “You were nice to me. What do you want for it? Money? A reputation boost? We can pretend to fuck, if you don’t want to for real, just so that people think you got some.”

“What do I want for it?” Jim repeats.

“Yeah, payment.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“C’mon, everyone wants something,” Stark says, and the way his eyes avoid Jim’s, despite his casual pose and even more casual tone, tells Jim that he’s scared.

“I don’t want anything, Stark.”

It’s a lie; he wants to know who hurt Stark, he wants to give Stark a hug, he wants to protect Stark.

He also wants Stark to let him out of choice, rather than obligation.

“Okay,” Stark says.

Okay, Jim thinks.

What he says is, “You can stay while I do my homework, if you want.”

“I talk a lot,” Stark tells him. “I’ll bother you.”

“I have a little sister, you can’t be worse than her.”

“Oh.”

So Stark stays.

-

“What’s your name?”

“Jim.”

“Oh, that won’t do at all. What’s the rest of it?”

“James Rupert Rhodes?”

“Rupert?”

“Don’t start with me, Stark–“

“Tony. My name’s Tony.”

“And my name’s Jim.”

“Not anymore, it’s not. You’re Rhodey now.”

-

“What are you doing?”

“Physics.”

“No shit, Sherlock, I meant the equation. You calculated wrong.”

“I did not.”

“Put it in the calculator, it’s not 6.78, it’s 6.57.”

“You did that in your head?”

“I’m not just a pretty face.”

-

“How old’s your sister?”

“She’s 10, but she’s 7 in that picture.”

“That’s your mom?”

“Yeah, I took that picture of them at the lake near our house.”

“She…she looks nice.”

“She’d like you.”

-

“What’s your major?”

“Aerospace Engineering, so yeah, I’m a rocket scientist.”

“Damn, how’d you know what I was gonna say?”

“You’re predictable, Tones.”

“Tones?”

“Well, if you’re allowed to give me a nickname, shouldn’t the favor be returned?”

“I…yeah.”

-

So Jim becomes Rhodey, and Stark becomes Tony, and sometimes Tones.

-

Rhodey realizes a few months in that Tony doesn’t need protection.

Tony knows how to protect himself, with a sharp quip or an even sharper smile.

What Tony needs is love.

So Rhodey makes a new promise.

-

After Rhodey has to drag Tony out of another party, after slurred words become quiet apologies, after Tony falls asleep in his bed again, Rhodey calls his momma.

She tells him to bring Tony home for Christmas break.

-

In Rhodey’s eyes, Tony’s never looked more alive than when Momma Robbie convinced him to play Scrabble with her and Jeanie.

-

“That boy needs love, James,” Momma Robbie tells him, a mug of tea cradled in her hands.

“I know, momma.”

“You gonna make sure he gets it?”

“Pretty sure I already am.”

-

When the clock strikes twelve on New Years, Tony tries to kiss him.

They’re on the roof, the stars above them reflecting in Tony’s eyes, and Tony tries to kiss him.

“No, Tones,” Rhodey says softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I love you.”

“Just not like that?”

Tony’s voice is broken glass, slowly tearing Rhodey’s heart to pieces.

The lie is a knife to the chest.

“Just not like that.”

Tony nods quietly.

They don’t share a bed that night.

-

When they get back from break, after a silent car ride, Tony asks suddenly, “Wanna see my workshop?”

It would’ve been simpler to ask if Rhodey wanted to see his heart.

There’s no other to answer to give than yes.

-

It’s a beautiful mess of chaos, the only description befitting the place where Tony breathes life into wires and gears and lines of numbers.

Rhodey doesn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you, Tones.”

Tony hugs him for an hour, and then spends three more showing him each idea, and then uses another two to get lost in a new project.

Rhodey realizes that this is where Tony truly comes alive.

He’s a kid in a candy store, a bird taking flight, a genius at work.

And he’s beautiful.

The knife, the lie, digs harder into Rhodey’s chest.

-

Tony has bad weeks, and worse weeks, where Rhodey doesn’t see him for days, but it’s okay.

It’s okay, because Tony always comes back.

-

Rhodey learns about Howard during a bad week, and about Jarvis on a good one.

He learns about Maria on a good week, and about Ana on a bad one.

Tony brings him pieces, and Rhodey starts to build the puzzle.

Some pieces are missing, and will probably always be missing, but it’s okay.

Rhodey will love him no matter what.

And slowly, Tony is starting to believe that. Rhodey can see it in his eyes, in the way his mask comes off, in the way the cracks become windows for Rhodey to look through.

-

The summer is long. Tony calls him some weeks, emails other weeks, doesn’t talk at all for most of them.

The worst part is not knowing if he’s okay.

But Rhodey takes what he can get, and gives as much as Tony will take.

-

When they get back to school, there are fresh bruises on Tony’s arms. Rhodey gives him a new sweater from Momma Robbie and Tony wears it like its armor.

They get a dorm together, officially, and most nights, Tony ends up in Rhodey’s bed, in Rhodey’s arms.

Watching him wake up is the best part of Rhodey’s day.

It’s hard, to keep lying, but Tony’s still just a kid, and Rhodey won’t be another person to use him.

So he loves him in the ways he can, and it’s enough, because it has to be.

-

The whispers are constant, always talking about them, but this time, Rhodey truly doesn’t care.

He knows better than the lies they spread.

-

“Rhodey–Rhodey, wake up,” Tony whispers against his chest.

Rhodey grunts. “‘m sleeping.”

“It’s raining.”

“So?”

“I wanna go outside.”

It’s the look in his eyes that does it, the wonder. Rhodey’s on his feet before he even realizes it. “Okay, Tones.”

They dance in the rain on the roof, and Tony laughs, and Rhodey looks at him, and sees nothing but happiness, and feels nothing but love.

-

Rhodey kisses Tony on his 18th birthday.

Maybe it’s wrong, but the way Tony laughs against his lips and twines his arms around his neck is nothing but right.

“I thought–“

“I lied, genius, I had to,” Rhodey whispers, ready to let go, but Tony just holds him tighter.

“Thank you.”

“For lying?”

“For loving me the way I needed.”

[kiapet2]

where the two ends meet

The newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman knows two things:

First, that his brother is dead.

And second, that it is his fault.

But when Roman journeys into the witch’s forest on a quest of penitence, he discovers that there is more to the story than he could have known. What he finds there may be his salvation— or his ruin.

Takes place after @whenisitenoughtrees‘s fic thrice for another day. Can also be read on its own.

Pairings: Platonic Creativitwins, Background Intrulogical

Word Count: 4,029

Warnings: death mention, grief/mourning, blood and injury, abusive parents

AO3 Link

Nearly a month after his family buries an empty coffin, the newly-elevated Crown Prince Roman slips out from his castle room and walks alone into the forest.

Unlike past evenings, Roman does not turn into the stretch of woods closest to the castle. At this point, he could likely name every rock and tree and still not find what he’s looking for. Instead, he walks in a straight line, heading deeper and deeper into the woods.

There is said to be a witch at the center of this forest, one who preys on the surrounding villages and whom no man should approach lest he meet his end. Roman had once thought to adventure into the woods to slay such a foul creature, but his intention tonight is far different. He has need of help only a wielder of magic can provide.

And if the venture is to end in his death, so be it.

...

Roman hasn’t been walking for long when he becomes aware of someone following him. The feeling comes and goes— a tingling on the back of his neck, like he’s being watched— but as Roman scans the woods around him, he cannot detect any signs of unusual activity.

The third time he feels the presence, Roman comes to a sudden halt and places a hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Show yourself, whoever you are!” he calls, then scans the trees around him for any sign of a response.

“Why have you entered my woods?” an irritated voice says from somewhere behind him.

Roman whirls around and draws his sword in a single, fluid motion.

The person standing behind him raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. Roman takes the man in: dark hair, a sharp-featured tan face, and piercing dark blue eyes that seem to peer straight to Roman’s core through a pair of wire-rimmed glasses. Despite the man’s simple clothing, Roman knows with a deep certainty that this is the witch.

Ignoring all his instincts, Roman sheaves his sword and holds out his empty hands in a gesture of peace.

“I have been searching for you,” he says. “I have a request to make of you, and am prepared to reward you well.”

“I don’t make a habit of dealing with royalty,” the witch says coldly.

Roman’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Yes, I know who you are, Prince Roman of Thaylar,” the witch says, “and I am surprised you would dare come here, considering your family history. You are either very brave, or very foolish.”

“Both,” Roman says, “but I mean you no harm. If you would hear me out—”

Dark blue energy forms in the witch’s hand. “I have nothing to hear from you, witch-killer. I would advise that you vacate my premises, before I am forced to take action.”

Roman swallows and takes an involuntary step back. Perhaps he should listen to the witch’s warning, abandon this fruitless quest and return to his bed.

It’s not worth it, his father had said after they found Remus’ trail leading to the forest. He couldn’t have gotten far anyways.

Roman straightens his spine and lifts his chin. He owes this to his brother— owes him so much more than this, but it’s the only thing left that Roman can do.

“I only wish to find my brother’s body,” Roman says, “So that I might bury him. Aid me in this and I will ask of you nothing more.”

The witch seems to search Roman’s face for something, his expression unreadable. Then he nods once, sharply.

“That, I can answer easily enough.”

Without another word, the witch turns on his heel and heads off into the forest. Roman hurries to catch up, biting back the urge to question where they are going. The walk lasts far longer than it feels like it should, and Roman suspects the witch is leading him around in circles so he will not be able to tell how to get into his lair. Or how to get out, some part of his mind whispers. He shoves it aside.

Finally, they reach a small clearing with a wooden cottage that looks surprisingly simple and well-kept for a witch’s lair. The witch leads Roman around the back of the house to an herb garden, stopping at a small pile of stones. For a moment Roman wonders what spell the witch intends to cast here; then the shape of the stones registers fully.

A cairn.

“I found him a little ways out from here,” the witch says. “His ribs had broken and pierced his lungs, and he’d been bleeding internally. It was a miracle he managed to make it even that far.”

Roman lowers himself to his knees and hesitantly places a hand on the upturned earth, trying to comprehend that under it is all that remains of his brother. Even now, it feels like all of this is a terrible dream, and one day he’ll wake up and Remus will be alive and driving him crazy again.

“I am sorry for your loss,” the witch says stiffly.

Roman’s chest feels tight, and he swallows past something lodged in his throat.

“He would like being buried here, by the garden,” he chokes out. “He always went on about how everyone becomes food for worms and fungus eventually. If you were to grow your strangest plants over his grave, it would have made him very happy.”

It feels wrong, to speak of his brother in the past tense.

“Might I ask what happened?”

Roman squeezes his eyes shut, holding back the tears that burn at their corners. He doesn’t deserve to cry, not over this.

“I gave him up as a witch,” he whispers. It’s the first time he’s said it out loud, and the words seem to grate and tear at his throat. “He trusted me with his life, and I betrayed him.”

The silence behind Roman is telling.

“Thank you,” Roman rasps, “For putting him to rest.”

He stays there, kneeling in the dirt, long after the witch has returned inside.

...

Remus cries out as he tumbles into the tower room’s wall, jarring harshly against the rough stone.

“Father,” Remus cries, “Father, wait—”

“You are no son of mine!” Father snarls, lifting Remus by the front of his shirt. “Foul demon!”

Roman’s mind screams at him to do something, to run forward and grab Remus or yell at his father to stop but instead he just stands there, frozen in horror, as in one great motion his father shoves Remus through the tower’s window and dangles him out over open air.

Time seems to slow as Father screams curse after curse in Remus’ face, as Remus clutches at the hands holding him above a dizzying drop. Remus’ gaze slides over to meet Roman’s, and for one terrible moment Roman sees in his eyes pure devastation. The agony of betrayal.

And then Father releases his hold, and Remus is gone.

Roman wakes up screaming.

He rolls over onto his side and curls up in a ball, taking harsh, gasping breaths. It takes a moment for him to register that he’s not standing in the castle tower staring in horror at the empty space where his brother used to be— the space that was right there in front of him as if Roman could have reached out and touched him but he was already gone and it was too late—

Breathe.

Roman closes his eyes and listens. In place of the screams that still ring in his head, he hears only the sound of wind swishing through trees. He reaches a hand out and feels loose dirt beneath him. He’s lying on the ground, outside. Roman opens his eyes and sees a dark sky full of stars.

Perhaps Remus is among those stars now. Would he like that? He’d probably think it was boring, to be honest. The thought brings a slight smile to Roman’s face.

Roman sits up, focusing on his breathing. It takes another moment for him to recognize where he is: the witch’s clearing, right by Remus’s... by the grave. It is dark except for the light of the moon— full, a poor omen. Roman had meant to be home by this time as the forest becomes vastly more dangerous at night, but apparently his many nights of lost sleep have finally caught up to him. There’s no use to it now; he’ll just have to wait for the light of dawn to find his way home.

Father will not be happy when Roman returns after dawn has already broken.

Roman has been much less concerned with keeping his father happy, as of late.

No, what bothers him most is why he’s been allowed to stay here at all. Considering the witch’s initial hostility to him, Roman figured admitting to turning in his own brother for using magic would result in being thrown out at best and murdered in his sleep at worst. And yet here he is, sitting in the witch’s clearing un-murdered.

Roman reaches out and touches Remus’s cairn with reverent fingers. He can’t bring himself to regret falling asleep here, dangerous though it may have been. It feels right to have slept beside his brother one last time.

“Well isn’t this sweet! Roro, I didn’t know you cared so much.”

Roman freezes. He knows that voice. But— but that’s impossible—

Roman scrambles to his feet and turns, heart in his throat.

Remus stands before him, illuminated by the light of the moon. He’s clad in the clothes he died in— Roman would know, he sees them in his dreams every night— and there’s a stain of something brown on his shoulder and neckline that Roman doesn’t particularly want to identify.

Roman gapes. “Re, what— how—”

Remus’ smile is bright, but his eyes are cold. “I think you know, Roman.”

Roman feels the blood drain from his face.

They’ve all heard the legends: spirits of magic-users who roam the earth, invested with their magical power and seeking vengeance on those who wronged them. Roman’s father once taught him the proper ways to... dispose of... witches to prevent such a phenomenon from happening. It was Roman’s least favorite lesson by far.

“There it is!” Remus cheers as the comprehension dawns on Roman’s face.

Roman falls to his knees, trembling.

“Remus,” he breathes, “Remus, I—”

He breaks off, lost for words. Roman has thought about what he would say to Remus if he had the chance dozens of times, dreamed up countless scenarios where he prostrated himself and begged for forgiveness or explained himself in a way Remus would understand. Now that he’s actually here, those dreams seem childish and futile in the face of everything that’s happened.

“So funny story,” Remus says, “I’ve thought it over and someone must have told the king about me, right? But I never practiced where anyone could see, and there’s only one person I ever shared my secret with. The person I always shared everything with. Got any idea who that could be, brother?”

Roman’s stomach feels like lead, and he can’t bring himself to look Remus in the eye.

Remus laughs softly. “That’s what I thought.”

His face twists in sudden fury and he shoots forward, getting in Roman’s face and forcing him to flinch back.

“Do you know how it feels, Roman? To have every bone in your body shattered, shards of your own ribs stabbing your insides until you drown in your own blood? Do you know how it feels to lie helpless and dying on the forest floor, knowing your corpse will stay there forgotten, with you replaced without a second thought? How it feels to be betrayed by your own twin, the one person in the world you’d thought you could trust?”

“Stop!” Roman cries, clutching at his head.

“Aw, is baby Roman too sensitive for all that?” Remus croons mockingly, pacing around him. “Do we need to protect his innocent little ears from the icky details of his brother’s brutal murder?”

Tears gather in Roman’s eyes, and he struggles to keep them from falling.

“Remus, I swear, I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“Then what did you want? Why did you do it, Ro? Did you want my throne that much? Or did you just hate witches more than you loved—”

“No!” Roman protests. “No, Remus, I could never hate you!”

“Then why?” Remus says, and the raw pain that fills his voice is so much worse than the anger. “Why did you tell him?”

Roman’s throat is tight and his eyes burn, but he forces the words out anyways. Remus deserves to know.

“Y-you kept hurting yourself. You’d come in bleeding and half-dead from experimenting with your magic and you wouldn’t see a doctor and, and I thought that one day you were going to kill yourself and it would be my fault for not stopping you. I thought if I— if I told Father, h-he would make you stop—”

Remus laughs bitterly. “You thought old daddy dearest, who has scores of magic users killed every year, would what— let me off with a warning?”

Roman flinches. “You’re his son! I didn’t— he was understanding before when I—”

“He was understanding of you,” Remus says. “You are his son. I’m sure he was thrilled at the chance to get rid of me.”

“I’m sorry.” The words force their way out in a whimper, and Roman’s stomach twists at their inadequacy.

“You’re sorry,” Remus says flatly.

Roman’s response catches in his throat, and instead he just bows his head, refusing to defend himself further. Nothing can make up for what he’s done.

Remus laughs suddenly, loud and manic. He snaps his fingers and mutters under his breath, and Roman is lifted into the air, a gentle pressure holding his arms against his sides with far more control than Remus ever had in life.

Remus gives him a vicious grin. “And what if I said ‘sorry’ wasn’t enough? What if I said I was going to have my vengeance, right here and right now?”

Roman’s tears finally overflow, and with them the pain that has been building ever since Remus went out that window.

“Do it,” he sobs. “Kill me.”

“What?” Remus says, sounding startled.

Roman bawls, not the pretty tears of the heroes in his books, but in wracking sobs that tear at his throat and send streams of tears and snot running down his face.

“Please, just kill me. I killed you. I killed you, and I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I killed you.” He cuts off with another sob. “Do whatever you want with me, please, I deserve it. I deserve it.”

The force holding Roman releases and he drops heavily to the ground. He curls up, chest heaving, and waits for the first blow to fall.

But the touch that falls on his arm isn’t painful; it’s soft and warm. It pulls him up and holds him tightly against a chest that is solid, breathing, beating.

Alive.

“I’m not going to kill you, Roman,” Remus says, his voice strangely choked, and Roman can feel it reverberating through his chest. “You’re my brother.”

Roman’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest. Remus, he’s... he... how did he—

The world spins, and Roman sees a brief flash of Remus’ worried face before everything goes dark.

...

“Roman! Roman, please!” Remus screams. He clutches at Roman’s hands where they grip his shirt, his face a mask of terror as his legs dangle over nothingness.

Roman fights desperately, screaming from deep within his mind, but his body doesn’t move.

“Why, Roman? I’m your brother!” Remus whimpers, tears gathering in his eyes.

Roman hammers at the boundaries of his mind but is helpless to stop it as his hands steadily, inexorably loosen.

Remus screams again as he slips through Roman’s fingers and falls into the darkness.

“Roman!”

“Roman! Roman, wake up!”

Roman jolts awake, his heart pounding as he gasps for breath.

“Ro? Hey, can you hear me?”

Roman blinks blearily and a face fades into focus above him. Worried red eyes, that ghastly mustache, a white streak in his hair...

“Re?” he croaks.

Remus grins. “There we are!”

“Remus,” Roman breathes. He reaches out with one shaking hand to cup Remus’s face and feels warm flesh beneath his fingers. “Are you really here? Or— or am I dead?”

Remus gives him a lopsided smile. “Takes more than getting thrown out of a tower and smashing my bones to smithereens to kill me!”

Roman surges upwards, wrapping his arms around his brother and burying his face in his shoulder.

“Hey, come on,” Remus says as Roman begins to shake, his tears wetting Remus’ shirt. “You’re going to dry yourself up if you keep crying this much. Just shrivel up like a human raisin until you end up a dried-out mummy and someone finds you like a thousand years later and wonders what the hell happened.”

The thought is so gross and ridiculous and Remus that Roman finds himself laughing through his tears.

“Gods above, I missed you.”

Composing himself, Roman pulls back and looks Remus over. He’s wearing simple, weathered clothing, his hair is an absolute mess and there are dark bags under his eyes. He’s the most beautiful thing Roman has ever seen.

“How?” Roman says, his voice cracking with emotion. “I thought you were— that I’d— How are you even here right now?”

“I healed a bit and then dragged myself here,” Remus says. “Logan did the rest.”

Remus looks back over his shoulder with a surprisingly soft smile, and for the first time since waking Roman tears his gaze away from his brother’s face to look at where they are. Roman is sitting on a cot in a simple wooden room, bare except for a small table and worn bookshelves lining one wall. The witch’s house, Roman assumes. The witch himself is standing stiffly a little ways behind Remus, his face transitioning from warm concern to dark displeasure as it moves from Remus to Roman.

“You lied to me,” Roman says. “You knew he was alive all along”.

“Technically, I never spoke a falsehood,” the witch— Logan— says coolly. “I did find Remus with the injuries I described. I merely was able to heal them, if barely.”

“We had to be careful,” Remus says. “I didn’t know, if...”

If Roman felt any real remorse for what he’d done. If he would turn Remus in again, once he found him.

Roman rises from the cot, causing Logan to dart forward in alarm. But Roman just lowers himself to one knee, bowing his head and placing a hand over his heart.

“I swear to you on my life, I never meant to harm you in any way,” Roman says. “I have regretted what I've done every day, every moment, since we parted.”

“Yeah, I got that from the whole bursting-into-tears-and-telling-me-to-kill-you thing,” Remus says. “Which was dramatic even for you, by the way.”

“People will often show their true selves during states of heightened emotion,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses. “The ruse was a logical course of action to discern your intentions.”

“And also fun!” Remus says. “You should have seen your face, Ro, it was so white! I make a pretty scary ghost.”

“You were terrifying,” Roman says honestly, which makes Remus beam.

Still on one knee, Roman turns to address Logan. “And thank you, my good witch, for saving his life. I am forever in your debt.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Logan says sharply. That and his icy glare make it quite clear that he is not as forgiving as Remus. Roman winces internally; this whole debacle is not the best first impression to make to a sibling’s lover.

And that’s what Logan is, or at least what Remus wants him to be— it’s written all over his brother’s face. Before... before, Roman would have teased Remus about it, and then Remus would probably have made some sort of lewd comment that would make Roman sputter and shove at him. They’re not quite at that point now, he thinks. Not yet.

Roman inclines his head to the witch. “You have my gratitude all the same.”

“Look at us, all making up and being friends!” Remus cheers, but Roman knows him well enough to see the lingering discomfort in the slant of his shoulders and curve of his smile. Remus isn’t as okay as he’s pretending to be.

Roman rises and clasps Remus’ hand in his own.

“Remus, I have done you a grave disservice. While I cannot take back the pain I have caused you, I can offer you back the crown. If you wish it, I will give you my blade and the clothes off my back so that you may return to the castle in my stead and reclaim your birthright under my name.”

Remus stares at him for a moment, then throws back his head and cackles. Something deep in Roman’s chest loosens at the sound; he hadn’t realized how much he missed Remus’ laugh.

“Like hell am I going back to that burning trash heap!” Remus says. “Look, getting thrown out a window sucked major ass, but finding this—” he gestures to the house around him— “is probably the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Behind Remus, Logan’s face turns bright red. Well that answers that, then.

Remus takes Roman’s other hand, meeting his eyes. “If you really want to make this up to me, go back. Become king. And change things.”

Roman bows his head once more. “I do not deserve this second chance, brother,” he whispers.

His hands tighten on Remus’s and he meets his twin’s gaze again, determined. “But I will do as you ask. I swear it, with every inch of my being: I will make things right.”

Remus shouldn’t trust Roman with something this important, not after Roman made it so clear what his word is worth. And yet, Remus nods as if satisfied and steps back.

“It is past sunrise,” Logan says. “I will not have you drawing search parties into this forest when the castle discovers you are gone.”

“I’d best be off then,” Roman says, knowing a dismissal when he hears one.

“I’ll walk you back!” Remus says.

“Absolutely not,” Logan snaps. “I will not allow you to walk that sort of distance while you are still on the mend.”

“It’s been a month!”

“And you were bedridden for weeks!”

“Logan can show me out,” Roman says firmly. “The last thing I want is you hurting yourself more over me.”

Remus’ eyes go watery. “But we just found each other again.”

Roman pulls him into another hug. “I will return, as long as you will have me.”

Remus nods into Roman’s shoulder, tightening his arms around him. They stay like that for a few moments more before they reluctantly part.

“Right, then,” Roman says. “Goodbye, for now.”

“Goodbye,” Remus says, unusually subdued.

Logan shows Roman to the door, and together they begin to walk across the clearing to the trees.

“You should know,” Logan says, “that if you break his trust again or hurt him in any way, all the guards in the castle will not be enough to stop me from killing you.”

Roman laughs heartily at that.

“I knew I liked you, Specs!” he says, slapping Logan on the back. “I’m glad Remus has someone like you looking out for him.”

Logan blinks. “Right, then. Good.”

“Wait!”

Roman looks back to see Remus standing in the house’s doorway. He looks... concerned?

“I know it’s going to take some time to be okay with what happened,” Remus says, “For both of us. But you weren’t the person who threw me off that tower. The king was. Just... remember that, okay? Remember that and come back.”

Roman nods mutedly, and the door closes.

“Right,” he says, clearing a mysterious obstruction from his throat, “let’s go then.”

With that, Roman turns and walks into the woods, headed back to the castle. Back to the duty he promised Remus he would fulfill.

And this promise, Roman intends to keep.

[2-cute-4-school]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨

pairing: Lee Donghyuck x gn!Reader 

genre: fluff, a small part of angst but all ends well ;)

word count: 2.4K words

a/n: my part of the christmas collab called ‘The Triangle That Defines Our Existence’, hosted by the lovely, amazing, incredibly talented, the sweetest human being who deserved the entire world @dearncityy (ღˇ◡ˇ)♥, thank you for allowing me to be part of this (੭ु｡╹▿╹｡)੭ु⁾⁾ ᶦ'ˡˡ ᵐᶦˢˢ ᵘ ᵃ ˡᵒᵗ ᶦᶠ ᵘ ᵈᵉᶜᶦᵈᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶜˡᵒˢᵉ ʸᵒᵘʳ ᵇˡᵒᵍ ᵉᵛᵉⁿ ᵗʰᵒᵘᵍʰ ʷᵉ ᵇᵃʳᵉˡʸ ᵍᵒᵗ ᵗᵒ ᶦⁿᵗᵉʳᵃᶜᵗ 

my masterlist | event’s masterlist!!!!

You know how souls are connected? How soulmates are created from the stardust of the same explosion, traveling for millions of years through time and space just to end up meeting in the same coffee shop down the road over a spilled latte after living thousands of miles away for their entire lives? How oceans and mountains, galaxies and dimensions, hate and love tear them apart but this small string, thinner than a strand of hair, but stronger than an entire army brings them back together? How fate works?

Do you think snowflakes miss each other? Born from the same cloud, fluffy and blue, the interest of any curious child’s eyes and just the stretch of an arm away, almost like-

“The blue one, please!”

“Can I get the blue?”

The owner of the candy floss shop stared flabbergasted at the pair of you, hands stretched towards him with bills clutched in-between your fingers. 

“I’m sorry but it seems like there is only one left and we’re out of blue colorant.”

At the newfound information, the boy beside you turned to you abruptly, cheeks flushed and determined shiny eyes.

“I believe I was here first, so I should be the one to get it.”

“Excuse me but you believe wrong, if anything, I asked for it first.”

You both scoffed in disbelief and carried on arguing as the owner watched with apologetic eyes while a line of equally impatient children accompanied by their parents whined for their own sweet treat.

“So therefore, as I have stated in my previous point of my thesis, I-”

“Move, we’ve been waiting here for 5 minutes already-”

Your new archnemesis turned to the kid behind him who dared interrupt his essay with burning eyes which might have just melted the frozen snot peeking from the child’s nostrils.

“Shut up, you bogey-eater garden dwarf! Learn how to respect your elders! You should- Hey!”

As you could tell the child’s mother’s eyes bulging out of their sockets and the choice of words directed towards her son, you quickly shoved the money in the owner’s hands, grabbed the stick of the blue candy floss with one hand, using the other one to drag the boy away from the commotion he himself caused before he lost an ear to the mom’s fury.

“Hey! Hey, you thief! How dare you-”

“Oh shut that trap for once, better thank me for dragging you away before that mother pulled a Van Gogh on you.”

He dusted himself off once you let go as if filth has touched him and you heavily debated just slamming the entire sticky candy on top of his head, but you decided against it. You worked to hard for it just to waste it on a head that didn’t even deserve it.

“This isn’t over, I still want that candy floss.”

“Let’s just share.”

He looked like he wanted to protest but he most likely couldn’t come with a better idea so he just sighed and shrugged dismissively. You both settled down on a bench on the side of the Christmas-decorated street and didn’t waste a second to dig into the cloud of sweetness.

“So... should I ask for the name of the person I fought tooth and bone for blue candy floss?”

“You want to go back and ask that kid? I’m not sure you’ll get out alive.”

You nudged his arm with your elbow and you both broke into smiles. He turned to look at you and you met his honey filled eyes, colorful lights dancing in them and it seemed like entire galaxies were celebrating the upcoming holiday too.

“Donghyuck. Friends call me Hyuck or Haechan. So you can call me Donghyuck.”

You deadpanned, but it only made him giggle louder. His nose was even more flushed than his cheeks and you couldn’t help but admire the way the rosy pink blended in with the natural tan of his skin. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he scrunched his nose mid laugh and you could understand why universes decided to reside in him.

“I hope you choke on candy floss.”

He only laughed harder and if Christmas was a laugh, it would have been Donghyuck’s, pure and hopeful.

“But what is my knight’s in shining armor’s name?”

“It’s Y/N. So you can’t call me. Ever.”

Despite your threatening tone, his smile didn’t lose its brightness. If anything, it shone brighter, lights and colors and happiness playing along his features and you couldn’t help but think that the moles on his face created constellations with the stars in his eyes. You saw art in what others saw as incident.

Donghyuck’s eyes widened as he stared at you, an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips before he exclaimed.

“A snowflake! It’s snowing! It’s snowing on Christmas Eve!”

“What? Where?”

“It’s on your nose!”

Your eyes crossed as you tried to catch sight of the small ounce of snow that settled on the tip of your nose. Donghyuck stared smugly as you turned accusingly and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re making fun of me!”

“I’m not! It really is-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you jumped in your seat.

“Donghyuck, one landed on your nose too! It’s there! It’s really snowing!”

And sure enough, one white traveller after another found their ways down in a whirlwind, waltzing on the last steps to their final destination in the eyes of thousands of admirers.

“Now we have matching snowflakes!”

Donghyuck laughed fondly at your excited tone, watching your enraptured eyes light up like a child’s and he thought that he might have found his Polaris. Right under his nose, he had found the brightest star in his sky.

“Yeah, do you think they were competing for candy floss too?”

“Maybe they confused it with their home. Don’t you think it resembles a cloud in this lighting? Maybe they thought they have found their way back home.” You pondered for a while, before grinning. “Mine won anyway.”

“Pffft, mine must have been confused by yours. How could you confuse candy floss for a cloud?”

You just shrugged, munching on the last bit of the sweet treat.

“Oh, Y/N, how much was it? Let me pay for my half.”

You thrust your phone in his directions, cheeks flushed less from the cold and more from the embarrassment of your next words. Donghyuck watched as you fidgeted in your place, his own expectant excitement building up inside of him as he accepted your phone gingerly.

“The cost is your phone number and a promise to share candy floss again. Only if you want to of course, don’t feel obligated to-”

“Let’s confuse snowflakes again, maybe it’ll snow again. My treat.”

You both smiled so largely your cheeks hurt the entire night.

~~~~

Your snowflakes decided to travel together on that fated day so you and Donghyuck decided to take their example. You stuck together and time didn’t seem to pass in the same way it used to. A year turned into a month, a month into a week, a week into a day and this day into a second. A second spent together. A second you cherished more than entire years. The second Donghyuck decided you put the moon and stars in the sky, or rather the single sparkly star on top of his Christmas tree.

“Stick that fucking star on that branch or I swear it’s either you’re taking a dive into the floor or my back will crack so loud your grandkids feel shivers down their own spine!”

“I’m obviously trying, Donghyuck! The branch is too thick, it won’t fit-”

“That’s what she said- oof!”

You made sure to dig your heel into his ribs hard enough to shut him up.

“Don’t you dare taint this holy evening with your bull!”

He grumbled under his breath but didn’t retort anything and struggled obediently to hold you up for long enough for you to put the finishing touch to his, no, both of yours’ Christmas tree: a silver, shining star.

“I told you it would be easier if we simply used a ladder, but nooo.”

“Where is the romance in that?”

“And where is the romance in me cracking your back and possibly falling on top of this tree?”

Your boyfriend groaned at your smart reply, tapping your thigh impatiently.

“Finally! You can put me down, the asshole has saddled up!”

“Never phrase it like that again please.”

After you were lowered, you both stepped back to admire the piece of art that stole- Donghyuck gasped softly once he took a look at the clock hung on the wall. Four hours?! How could that be possible, it only felt like... a second.

He turned to watch you instead of the overflowing tree, ornated in tinsel and lights. You glowed so much more than any view in this world in Donghyuck’s eyes. His Polaris indeed. No matter how lost he would ever be in life, tangled in his own mind, struggling against his own, one look at his brightest star and he’d find his way back to you through the darkest of nights. He deemed it only right for his guiding star to hang the star on top of your tree as if you hung it in a once starless night once he turned off the lights in the room.

Donghyuck thought that maybe he could live in an eternity in a single day with you.

“Ah, it snowed so much outside. It looks so fluffy, I have to!”

“What, no Y’N, wait!”

Before Donghyuck could even react, you sprung away from him, clumsily slipping on some shoes and running outside in only your sleepwear. Your boyfriend ran after you, gathering your jacket before joining you in the snow. He found you a few steps away from the entrance, crouched before a mound of fresh snow, digging your already reddening hands into it and spreading it around to form drawings and words. He sighed as he laid your jacket over your shoulders and crouched beside you.

“Don’t be so reckless, you’ll catch a cold like this.”

“Look who’s talking” you shot him a pointed look “where’s your own jacket if you’re so worried about colds?”

He spluttered for a moment, realising he forgot his own jacket in his rush to make sure you wouldn’t suffer too much because of the cold.

“I need no jacket. Jackets are for weaklings.”

You rolled your eyes, focusing back on the snow gathered in your hands. 

“I feel bad for the snowflakes. They left their home, maybe they were even separated from their loved ones on the way down here. I bet they miss them. But they are trapped here once they landed. If only they would have the chance to fly for a little longer and search for them.”

You threw it in front of you, watching as it spread all around you, floating elegantly in a dance of their own before regaining their place on the spotless white dessert. Donghyuck watched you with curious eyes.

“I feel so bad for them I almost want to take them into my own home and care for them and love them-”

“But they’d melt.”

“Huh?”

“The snowflakes would melt. It’s not the right kind of home for them. Love isn’t always what they need, sometimes it consumes you little by little, it reduces you to nothing.”

“I’d rather melt into nothingness if it meant I felt even a second of pure love.”

‘That’s Y/N for you indeed’ Donghyuck could only shake his head as a small, content smile settled on his face. He scooped a little bit of snow into his cupped palms and brought it close to his lips. You shrieked.

“Don’t eat it! I get it, I won’t bring snow into the house!’“

He laughed so joyfully the shy moon cowered behind clouds at his beauty.

“I’m not planning on eating it, dumbass.”

“Then?”

“I’m wishing upon snowflakes?”

“Maybe we should head inside, maybe you have a fever.”

“Shut up, I’m not delusional. There are no dandelions during winter and snowflakes are our thing anyway, right? So let’s wish upon a snowflake instead of dandelions this time.”

He didn’t wait for you to react before he blew harshly into his palms, sending the small pile of snow flying out of his hands. Donghyuck could only think of a single thing while watching the swirl of the freed snow dancing in the dimly lit street in front of the house.

I wish for you to be my north star, to keep guiding me home to you.

~~~~

But sometimes it gets foggy. And sometimes you lose your way.

Donghyuck stared at his own reflection in the silver globe. He looked anything but Christmas-y. There was no twinkle in his eye, dull orbs gazing back at him almost condescendingly.

He’s always been a spitfire, a follower of his own fate that he made by his own hands. He swore to never let a flame touch, but promises are meant to be broken and his love, too burning hot, consumed you just like warmth consumed the snow. You slipped through his fingers just like snowflakes get separated in the harsh wind.

And Donghyuck was sure that if snowflakes could feel, they would be the most pitiful. A separation so sudden, so forceful, one that leaves you desperate to turn back time even for just a second. To watch them for longer. To hold on tighter.

‘Lee Donghyuck, you dumbass’

He sighs as he lowers the globe, putting it back into the box that would soon go into the basement where it resides for most of the year. One goodbye after another. Undecorating and storing away the once lively Christmas tree felt even more melancholic than usual, because while it meant a ‘see you later’ to the brightness of his house, he might have lost his chance at even saying a proper ‘please let me see you again’ to the brightness of his soul.

He looked up, catching sight of the lonely star sitting atop of the tree, the only decoration left. So far out of reach.

‘Feels so wrong to search for a stool for that after so long. Also feels wrong for me to be the one to take it off. I got too used to you.’

‘Too empty, where are your ridiculous decorations?’

‘Too blank, where are your rainbow vomit Christmas sweaters?’

‘ Too quiet, where are your late carols?’

‘...Where are you?’

Donghyuck had to shake himself out of his zoned out state, looking out the window at the lights still hung around his porch. He should remove those too. He stepped outside, being immediately enveloped by the winter winds blowing around the freshly laid out snow.

‘It snowed a lot this year. Where are your snow-angels?’

Donghyuck touched the scarf wrapped around his neck. The one he searched for for hours just to find it laid around the ‘neck’ of the snowman you both built earlier that day. Despite his scolding, he couldn’t help but think that who needs presents when his biggest blessing is smiling so purely right in front of him?

‘Are you building snowmen away from me now? Are you using someone else’s scarf now?’

His face contorted into a grimace. He grabbed two fistfuls of fresh snow, throwing them into the wind, watching them meddle amongst themselves

‘You talked all that shit about giving them a second chance to find their loved ones after a storm, to find their soulmates once again. So where are you?’

‘Why don’t you give me another chance to find you too?’

Donghyuck watched helplessly as the snow settled down once again. What if soulmates get lost forever? What if they don’t meet again? He crouched in the middle of the alley to his house. The same one you walked on and away from him.

A lonely snowflake landed on his hand, as if to prove Donghyuck a point. He couldn’t help but chuckle sarcastically, pain lacing his usually bright tone.

‘Are you feeling it too, buddy? Are you alone too?’

‘How about you, my love? Where are you, Y/N?’

Another snowflake slowly descended right by the one already settled on his hand. Destined together, by the hands of fate, by each other’s hand, by time itself. 

‘Ah, found your soulmate, have you?’

‘Where has mine gone?’

A crunch resonated in Donghyuck’s ears, right in front of him. So close.

“Sorry for the wait.”

His head snapped up. Did heartbreak cause illusions? Did desperation cause hearings? No, while his brain took its time comprehending, his heart knew instantly. It recognized its owner.

“It got confused and a little scared on the way here, but it finally found its way back home.”

You were home. At home in his arms, nestled in his embrace, face buried in his chest, right above his erratic heartbeat. 

“You know, late comers have to pay for the wasted time.”

“Oh, is that so? How much is it?”

“Just a lifetime spent together.”

Donghyuck’s eyes sparkled again.

~~~~ 

You still haven’t decided what takes the crown as the best replica of the fluffy clouds traveling lazily across the sky. You stick another piece of baby blue cotton candy in your own mouth while internally debating between the two choices. The floss of sweetness you had the luxury to eat at the moment or-

A whine interrupted you. Your head snapped to the side just to meet a pair of puppy eyes staring back at you, waiting for acknowledgement.

“Hyuckie too~”

“Maybe Hyuckie should have bought his own then.”

Despite your seemingly annoyed retort and the roll of your eyes, you still offered him a piece of cotton candy, one that he didn’t hesitate to snatch right from your hand the moment it was presented in front of his lips.

You stared adoringly at your boyfriend as he munched satisfied on the sweet and you could barely suppress the need to run your fingers through his soft locks, bury your hand into your own warm, lavender-smelling cloud.

“I’m getting flashbacks from our first meeting.”

You snapped out of your haze, redirecting your attention to Donghyuck’s words.

“Huh?”

“It’s the same bench. When you stole my cotton candy and then offered to share it with me oh so kindly-”

“I paid for it! And saved you too for the sake of it!”

“And then trapped me with you in order to repay you.”

You slapped his arm, watching fondly as he dissolved in a fit of giggles. You both knew he didn’t mean it, he spent countless hours thanking the world and you for bringing you two together and allowing him happiness. You sighed a bit melancholic, only just realising that he was right, this was the same bench you ate your first candy floss together. Same place, same people, same surroundings, different circumstances.

“It feels like an eternity ago.”

“And at the same times it feels like only yesterday.”

A beat of silence passed before Donghyuck spoke again, quieter, more careful, almost timidly.

“I’m scared too sometimes.”

You leaned into him, nuzzling your cheek against his shoulder. He brought the hand that wasn’t holding your waist already up to your face, cupping your cheek delicately and caressing it with his thumb. His snowflake finally had a soulmate.

“Why?”

He bumped his nose against yours, leaning his forehead against yours. He had you, under his fingertips, breaths mingled, hearts beating together.

“What if it’s over before we realise?”

You hummed softly, your lips brushing against his as you murmured your next words, a secret shared between lovers

“Doesn’t matter. Time is nothing with you, an irrelevant notion meant to hurry us when all we want to do is linger a second more. For you and me, there’s no end and no beginning.”

And sure enough, here you were. Two snowflakes, vulnerable and in passing, sharing a cloud and a timeless bond.

[castiel-barnes]

Books.

Pairing: Frankie 'catfish' Morales x Reader.

Summary: Frankie sees you reading a book, while he is out with the boys.

Wordcount: 1.4k

Warnings: Fluff and swearing that's it.

Tags: @phoenixhalliwell @scribbledghost @prideandpascal @maxlordsgf

The boys had gone out for the day, just to have time together where they're not getting shot at 24/7. They stopped off at a small cafe, though their loud nature they kept mostly quietly as they were in the cafe.

Santiago had noticed that Frankie was a little bit distracted. He tracked Frankies eye line, to find you. Sat in the corner by yourself, reading by the window.

"They're cute." Santi whispered into Frankies ear,

"Wha- oh yeah they are." Frankie replied in a blushing mess. Santi laughed, clapping Frankie on the back lightly.

"¿Por qué no vas a hablar con ellos hermano?" (Why don't you go talk to them brother?) Santi asked,

Frankie looked at you and back to him, pulling his hat over his eyes slightly.

"No sé. Quiero decir, míralos. No creo que merezco a alguien así, especialmente lo hermosos que son." (I do not know. I mean, look at them. I don't think I deserve someone like that, especially how beautiful they are.) Frankie replied, taking a sip of his coffee that was still way to hot.

"Eso es una mierda. Definitivamente te mereces a alguien tan maravilloso como se ve. Sólo inténtalo." (That's bullshit. You definitely deserve someone as wonderful as they looks. Just try it.) Santi said smiling at Frankie softly,

Finally, Tom, Will and Benny finally noticed that Santi and Frankie were nattering in Spanish.

"What you two on about now?" Benny asked,

"Frankies got a crush." Santi said in a sing song manner.

"I do not!" Frankie denied kicking Santiagos shin, causing Santi to hit his knee on the table. Just then has the cutlery on the table rattled as Santi hit his knee, you looked up and saw Frankie pull his hat down with a blush on his cheek.

You smiled and went back to reading the book you had. Frankie glared at Santi and Benny just smiled.

"Dude you realise, they looked over just now. I swear." Santi stated,

"C'mon fish, they look cute. Just give it a try." Benny said looking over his shoulder at you briefly.

"Los odio chicos." (I hate you guys.) Frankie stated standing up,

"No, no lo haces." (No you don't.) Santi smiled. Frankie walked up to the counter, and asked the barista to send a small cake over to your table. He sat back down for a few minutes, and saw the barista walk over to you with the cake.

As the barista explained it was from Frankie and pointed out who it was, you looked up at him smiled shyly. You motioned your head to go outside, and Frankie thankfully nodded.

He stood up and grabbed his jacket. And went to go outside.

"Where you going?" Will asked,

"Outside." Frankie shrugged. Santi spied that you were also standing up and getting your jacket.

"Mantén la boca cerrada Santiago." (Keep your mouth shut Santiago.) Frankie glared at him. Santi put his hands up in mock surrender only smiling.

"Ve a buscarles pescado." (Go get them Fish.) Frankie walked away taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair, before putting it back on.

You both got to the door at the same time, and Frankie smiled awkwardly holding the door open for you. Santi smiled at Frankie and Frankie just flipped him off.

"Do you think they'll go out on a date?" Tom asked,

"10 bucks I say they will." Santi said,

"Alright bet." Will stated looking at the two of you sitting down outside.

You held your book close to your chest, and smiled shyly up at Frankie.

"Uh, thank you for the cake..." you started the stopped not knowing his name,

"Frankie, uh my name is Frankie Morales. Or as my brothers call me 'catfish'." He introduced himself.

"Y/n.. Y/n Y/L/N. Thank you for the cake Frankie." You replied, still holding your book close,

"It's okay, I um I just thought you'd like one." Frankie explained tumbling over his words slightly.

"Were your friends trying to convince you to talk to me?" You asked smiling slightly,

"Yeah.. those guys. They're like my brothers, but sometimes they can be a bit annoying." Frankie explained blushing, and looking back to see the guys turning back quickly.

"They seem like good friends though." You stated smiling,

"They are, trust them with my life. But they sometimes decide that I need to meet someone and then they get annoying." Frankie said. The two of you sat there and talked for a while, and then you realised the time.

"Oh crap, I have to go. Um thank you Frankie for the cake. Here." You smiled sliding a piece of paper over to him and walking away.

Frankie looked at the piece of the paper, and smiled brightly. There on the piece of paper, was your phone number. He blushed and smiled, waving you off as you hurried off. He walked back inside, with the widest smile He could convey.

"What happened?" Will asked,

"I got their number." Frankie exclaimed sitting back down.

The boys cheered, and Santi clapped Frankie on the back.

"Bien por ti hermano." (Good for you brother.) Santi smiled.

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

Few hours later:

Frankie had been sitting on his porch, for maybe almost an hour. He was trying to figure out what to text you. Finally he decided on something.

'Hey Y/N, it's Frankie Morales from the Cafe.'

Frankie texted, letting you know it was him.

'Hey Frankie, it's so nice to hear from you.'

You responded. There a slight pause in Frankies response.

'Could I ask you a question?'

Frankie asked, and you could almost hear the hesitance in his voice,

'Sure go ahead.'

You replied, wondering what he was going to ask.

'Could I maybe take you on a date please?'

You smiled softly. From your short conversation at the cafe, you could tell he was a sweet soul. Though you didn't know everything about him yet. But to you, he was one of sweetest people you met.

'Of course, I would love to go on a date with you. Where should we go?'

He thought for a moment, trying to think of a nice place.

'There's a nice little café that's inside a book shop I think. It's just down the road from the one we met at today.'

Frankie stated hoping you would know the one.

'Yeah I know the one. Would 5pm be alright?'

You asked,

'Yeah that's alright. See you then.'

Frankie smiled to himself. He took a shower and got out some nice clothes to wear. Looking at the time, Frankie realised that he still had an hour left until he was meant to meet you. So he decided to let the boys know that he was going on a date with you.

'Hey boys, just letting you know I'm going on a date tonight'

Frankie stated in the group chat,

'Is it with that cutie from the café?'

Will asked.

'You lot owe me 10 bucks!'

Santi triumphed, Frankie could practically hearing it in his head.

'Yeah it is. And you guys had a bet going?'

Frankie asked kinda amused. The boys went back and forth for a little while until Frankie told them he had to go. He walked to the little book store that was just past the café, and waited there for you. Of course, with his military training he was almost 20 minutes early.

But he was glad to see that you had gotten there early aswell.

The two of you chatted for a long while, having a small meal in the process. When you both finished your meal and drinks, you looked around the book store to find any new books that might've caught your interest.

Frankie had a beaming smile, as you explained one of the books you were currently reading. You also ended up showing him a picture of how many books you actually had.

By the end of it, you both felt like you had known each for more than a day. Something had clicked with the two of you. Frankie walked you home being the gentleman he is.

"Thank you for today Frankie, it's been a lot better than I expected." You smiled squeezing his hand gently,

"It's okay Y/N, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. I did aswell. Do you think maybe.... I could take you on another date soon?" Frankie blushed slightly feeling your hand.

"I would love that. Thank you." You responded, after a few more moments you went inside and smiled to yourself. Feeling like you just met the person you were meant to be with.

Frankie got and cheered loudly. Thankful that nothing went wrong on the date and that he can take you on another one.

[sweetestlamb]

Lighting Up Your World

Episode 17 

Summary: Gang-tae and Mun-yeong continue their road trip, finding themselves and helping others along the way. 

Author's note: Here is part 1 of the weekend fic updates! I tried my best to make these interesting and multilayered channeling my inner Jo Yong. The focus is on MY/GT and their healing but I also wanted them to heal others too on this journey so we do meet an OC. If I had time this could be something that continues each weekend, but work and life starts again very soon so I won’t make any promises but I had a really fun time writing this and trying to plot out the story so it felt familiar to IOTNBO with conflicts and resolutions, only they all happen within the chapter lol. Without further ado, here’s episode 17 ;) *Play “Lighting up Your World* 

The mood shifts drastically after Sang-tae's departure, they're both sulky and a bit flabbergasted by his sudden decision to leave, this was their first trip as a newly fledged family, it felt monumental, like a rite of passage of sorts; but by the morning they've accepted his choice and set sights on their next location. Gang-tae lays in disbelief thinking about how much his brother has changed, how much their relationship itself, has shifted.

Thanks in part to her, his eyes land on her sleeping form, gorgeous in the low lighting of the camping van.

She had crashed into their lives like a bulldozer, hell bent on having him, but only as an object- something to capture and conquer. Somewhere along the way, despite their unconventional start; love had blossomed. It wasn't an easy start and it took time to nurture but he couldn't imagine his life without her now, their little family.

I love you Moon Gang-tae.

She loved him. Meant it with every fiber of her being, it was detectable in her eyes, swirled in the pools of her captivating eyes. If that wasn't enough her actions proclaimed her love, never turning her back on him despite his sometimes despicable behavior and words that cut her. Running back to defend him from the one person she despised the most, uncaring of her own fate. He hadn't known he could experience love like this, all-consuming devotion. Not until she entered his life.

A smile blooms on his face, it all started with a stab. He knew others wouldn't understand- Jae-su's disbelieving face flashed in his memory- but it made perfect sense for them, she who was so jagged and broken when he met her and him so complacent and selfless, saving others even at his own detriment.

I met your mother after she stabbed me in the hand. Then months later she stabbed me in my other hand.

His chuckles fill the tight space of the van, until he hears a hoarse voice, "What are laughing at?"

With a small jump he turns to face her, adorable baffled look on her face, and he sits up to better see her.

"I was thinking about us."

She looks at him deeply, searching his eyes before continuing, "And that made you laugh? Were you thinking of good things?"

"Well... I was thinking about how we met and how we would tell that story to our future son who looks like me." He responds sheepishly, heart singing at the soft look that forms on her face, that happens often now, her blushing every time he mentions their future. He makes sure to do it often, for both of them. After wrongly viewing their relationship as ill-fated, it seems more important than ever to say the words out loud, breathe them into the world and give them life. Mun-yeong and Gang-tae are destined. 

He can’t help but imagine her round with his, no their child, swollen belly protruding from her slim frame, as she demands his attention and curses him for her condition. It would be as beautiful as it was terrifying. 

All in due time. 

After a few seconds of sustained eye contact she finally snaps out of her daze, craftily switching the subject to escape her own unease, “How are you really feeling about Oppa leaving? Do you want to end the trip and follow him?” 

For a moment, he wonders who is the person and what have they done to his Mun-yeong? The woman he first met lacked empathy for others, disregarded their feelings and trampled all over their boundaries; she was a new person, reborn. No, unpeeled, showing another layer to her personality. Considerate and caring with him and with Sang-tae, even putting them first at the expense of her own desires. 

Swiftly removing the blanket covering his torso, he strides toward her on the elevated bed, reaching out to caress her head, she is aptly watching his every move head subconsciously leaning into his tender hold. 

With his eyes firmly locked on her own he replies, “I...am happy. I am happy that he knows what he wants to do, he finally has a dream of his own. A dream just for him. And...I don’t want to go back. When I told you I loved you, that was my promise to keep moving forward, no matter what.” 

Being here, with you, that is my dream. That he leaves unsaid. 

He basks in the warmth of her smile, beaming on him, shiny solely for him. His own personal sun. 

“You’re so cheesy now.” She teases him playfully rolling her eyes, and he chuckles before shrugging, he’s never had a chance to be cheesy, probably has all that cheesiness packed up inside ready to come out, she is going to get it all. 

Curling his hands around her small face, he draws her closer before pressing a kiss to her forehead, watching her eyelids flutter close as she sighs gently. His lips are soft on her smooth skin, nothing more than a peck, a silent thank you for being here with him. For staying. 

Then he finally announces, “I know our next destination. While you were sleeping I found another spot for us.” Before she can question him he states, “It’s a surprise.” 

Her groan of annoyance is music to his ears, as he rushes to the front of the van, ready for their adventure. 

The sunlight brilliantly twinkles on the rippling waves of the water as he pulls up to their destination, a lake sequestered away and roughly hidden by trees and foliage, there is a quaint wooden dock leading to the watery oasis but not much less. He hums in contentment gazing at it, it is almost too peaceful to be true but they of all people deserve some peace after the hell they have been through. 

Mun-yeong stumbles out of the tiny bathroom of the van, peering out the window at the view, she stares at him bewildered, “A lake?” Why did you take us to a lake?” 

He shakes his head at her question, “To swim. Why else do people go to a lake?” He can hear his brother’s voice replaying in his mind, Why ask such an obvious question? 

With a glare she humphs crossing her arms in a symbol that he can read all too well- I’m not doing it- before stomping away, “I’m not swimming.” He watches her back as she defiantly strides back into the small compartment. 

He makes them a quick late breakfast of rice and grilled meat, scooping out a hefty amount for his grumpy girlfriend who has yet to leave the camping van. He had nagged and pleaded at the door, eager to get outside and see the lake, it was tempting especially on such a scorching day. But she had ignored all his calls, even childishly responded “I can’t hear you.” Before he had stomped away in the opposite direction, fondly irritated at her behavior. 

The van door creaks open as she finally decides to exit, he pointedly does not look up, not wanting to seem too eager at her arrival after she spitefully ignored him. He pushes the food in her general direction, not making eye contact. So she sits down on the unoccupied chair to his left, he is unprepared for the breadth of naked skin he sees when she does. 

With his fixed gaze on the food in his lap, the edges of his peripheral vision catch her bare legs, heeled sandals encase her foot but there is no material in sight on her legs. Just bare smooth, inviting skin. 

He gulps, reaching for his water. 

Drawing in a deep breath to reinforce himself, he slowly begins to raise his head, eyes traveling from her ankles to her smooth thighs, similarly naked before he stops on her torso. She is wrapped in a bathing suit, tight fitting and devastatingly distracting. The devilish suit is black and partially mesh, with her skin peeking through the stomach but solid across her breast and lower region. 

His tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, despite his desperate swallows of water to re-hydrate his heated body. Grabbing his food, he stuffs his face with rice and meat hoping that will prevent him from begging her to let him take her back into the van and peel that suit off her and.... 

“I am still not swimming, but I figure I can get a nice tan at least.” She offers as away of explanation, he nods robotically, eyes still trained on the ground. Before a white bottle is forced into his vision, he jumps back in his seat, eyes finally landed on her body completely. 

Unbelievable. 

The glimpse he saw does nothing to prepare him for the entire picture, she looks amazing in the suit as if it was made specifically for her body, knowing her taste and monetary capabilities; the idea isn’t too far-fetched and he curses whoever gave this weapon to her. Atop the bridge of her nose sits her glossy black sunglasses, the same ones she wore when he saw her outside, a beautiful black storm cloud under falling cherry blossoms. Her hair is pulled back into a high messy bun, two braids on her side that disappear into the bun, wisps of hair that escaped the bun frame her face beautifully. In short, she looks like the cover of a high-end fashion magazine and he is at a lost for words. 

His musings are prematurely interrupted by her waving something in his face, a thin container, “--Are you listening to me? Take off your shirt.” 

He shakes his head, almost dropping his bowl in shock. 

Only seconds away from taking another gulp of water before her request. He doesn’t miss the smirk that curls on her lips, he knew she did that on purpose. 

“What? What are you talking about?” He shakily asks, pulling his thin white t-shirt protectively around himself. 

She tilts her glasses down ensuring that he can see her eyes before dramatically rolling them, “You act like it’s something I haven’t seen before.”

“We’re outside though!”

“So what?” She fires back, looking at him, exasperation farrowing her eyebrows.

He breathes hard, their eyes locked in a heated battle, before he sighs accepting his fate, admitting to himself that he is not as opposed to the idea has he’s acting. Guilt settles in his stomach as he remembers the excitement that coursed though him as he realized that without his hyung, he would be alone with Mun-yeong.  All by themselves, at given times no one around for miles. No one to hear their screams. The idea of being alone and unencumbered with her was thrilling. 

In one fluid motion, he stands up and grabs the end of his shirt, carefully lifting it up and over his head. Standing in nothing but his slippers and dark blue swim trunks, the only pair he packed, unlike her who probably had endless suits of different styles and colors. In that way they were vastly different, he was practical and minimal whereas she was extravagant and larger than life. 

Her eyes burned on his skin as she stood up as well, carelessly tossing her food on the table, before curling her finger at him in a seductively beckoning call, “Come closer.” Her voice was smoked honey, as if in a trance he found himself obeying, stepping forward a half step, “Closer” and closer he went until he stood directly in front of her. 

She audaciously looked him up and down, tongue peeking out to swipe across the span of her pink mouth. 

Then with anticipation thick in his throat he watched her hands grow closer to his body, creeping closer and closer to his skin and then they were finally on him. 

He jolted at the cold. Jumping away from her hands. 

“What’s wrong with you? I told you I was going to put sunscreen on you.” Her eyes narrow and he feels a blush cover his cheeks, at his red face she lets out a long drawn ahhhhhhhhhh before speaking, “Why did you think I wanted you to take your shirt off? Were you expecting me to do something else?” She lifts one perfectly threaded eyebrow at the suggestive inquiry while simultaneously moving back into his orbit to rub the sticky white cream into his stomach. 

He lets himself enjoy her touch, deliberate ministrations into his skin, her face close enough for him to kiss and only a thread of control keeps him contained. Her hand strokes across his abs, fingers purposefully creeping into the crevices of his body before she trails her manicured finger down to his trunks, so close to where he wants her hand, panting now with anticipation, half hard just from her hand on his skin. 

Then she stops. 

Pats him on the shoulder with a clipped, “All done.” Impish look clouding her face, he glares at her departing back, the pep in her step; she knows exactly what she just did to him. The wink over her shoulder reinforcing his speculation. 

Damn, she-devil. 

When she begins to rubs the same sticky cream into her legs, slowly and wantonly, peering at him whilst she does it, his only solution is to run and dive straight into the water, welcoming the cool blanket that soothes the raging heat in his loins. 

He swims alone for a few minutes, propelling himself back and forth in the shallow water, before he eventually feels the twinges of boredom creeping in, this was meant to be their adventure, he didn’t want to swim alone, imagining wet kisses and wandering hands under the guise of the water.  All new experiences that he only wanted to share with her. 

With those thoughts in mind, he silently vacates the water, footsteps light as he tiptoes to Mun-yeong, glowy and alluring from her spot on the lounge chair she  pulled seemingly out of thin air. Sunglasses still shielding her eyes he waves his arm to see if they attract her attention, she lays motionless still, breathing steady and unhurried. 

Perfect. 

Now, knowing that she will not notice his approach, he creeps forward putting on his best imitation of a spy, avoiding twigs and leaves, anything that will alert to his presence. After a measured and timed approach, he looms over her, taking a moment to bask in her tranquil beauty. She is a goddess in that bathing suit and he wants to remember her face in this moment, in a few seconds she will be ravenous in his arms, clawing and thrashing. It is the perfect juxtaposition of her personality. A beautiful disaster. 

Before he can second guess himself- maybe she was right and he did have a death wish- he grabs her, lifting her out of the lounge chair and wrapping her securely in his arms. 

“YAH!” Her reaction is expeditious, nails scrapping across his arms as she tries to break free from his strong hold, he winces at the sharp burst of pain shaking her slightly to dislodge her, but her efforts do not hinder his mission. He laughs at her screams and threats, “Put me down! Gang-tae, I will kill you!” Gaining speed as he reaches the end of the dock, with a bounding leap he flies through the air, weightless, until they crash through the surface of the water. Water splashes onto the dock from their impact and his nose burns with the sudden influx of water, before he scrambles to the top, taking her now suspiciously limp body with him. 

The sight that greets him when they burst to the surface, makes his body go numb with regret. 

Her face is ashen, almost grey in hue, wet hair plastered to her skull. But what stands out most are her eyes, usually brimming with love and light for him, now sunken and packed with an emotion he never wanted to put there; fear. 

He can feel how rapidly she is breathing, her body shaking like a leave under his hold as he keeps her afloat, the air wheezes out through her colorless lips as she begins to convulse in his arms, he is paralyzed under her visible distress. 

She begins to keen, “Please, please, get me out. I need to get out!” The sorrowful plead that shatters into a scream breaks his heart into a million pieces, and with only a small hiccup he responds to her cries. Kicking his legs powerfully, swimming as quickly as he ever has in his life, arms protectively wrapped around her shuttering form until the reaches the bank. 

It takes a moment to for her to recognize that they are now on land but once she does she leaps from his arms, whipping around and racing to the camping van without another word. 

He is left shell-shocked. 

Standing alone, wracking his brain to figure out what caused such a visceral reaction and not coming up with an adequate answer. Then he realizes that is not important, all that mattered now was reaching her and comforting her, those eyes would haunt him forever otherwise. 

Dashing to her rapidly retreating form, he catches her arm, twirling her around to face him. 

The fragments of his heart, shatter into even smaller pieces. 

Twin trails of tear stream down her face, dripping off her chin before disappearing into the ground. 

“Mun-yeong...” He vocalizes her voice like an apology. 

She breaks the connection between their arms, turning once more to walk away and he can’t stand to see her walk away from him, not again, never again. 

Softly capturing her hand again, he begs, “Please, tell me what I did wrong?” 

Struggling to speak through her choked throat she replies, “I can’t right now. I just need to be alone for a bit, I’m not running away.”

Those words again. 

He wants to hold on tighter, recalling how she had run away after uttering those words before, viciously slamming all her doors shut and pushing him out. She reads his face like a children’s book. 

“I promise, I’m not running away, this time. So let me go, for now.”

Trusting her words, he releases her hand. Heart sinking as she climbs the stairs and disappears into the camping van. If the sun continues to shine, he is unaware, the dark clouds of shame and regret hanging over his forlorn head. 

“When I was young, I had dreams of my mom drowning in a lake.” 

His head buzzes at the confession, so intensely focused on the food sizzling on the grill he had missed her reappearance. Lowering the tongs to give her his full undivided attention as she bares another layer of Ko Mun-yeong. 

“My dad... I thought he drowned my mother in a lake. And every night I would have dreams about her screaming for my help. Sometimes when I have those sleep terrors, I can see her above me, her body is dripping wet. I....” She takes a pause, sitting down in a chair further away from him and he almost cries at that small amount of distance she is placing between them. 

But she is also wearing his flannel shirt, dwarfing her small stature, her fingers clutching it as if needing protection. 

Following a deep breath she presses on, “I haven’t been in water since. I’m....scared. I’m sorry that I’m already ruining this trip--”

He doesn’t allow those words to settle in the air for a second before he’s out of his seat and crouching before her, he begs for permission with his eyes, and watches as she ruminates before nodding, with a sigh of relief he gathers her cold hands in his own, warming them instantly. 

“You didn’t ruin anything. I didn’t know, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I never want to make you cry, I told you I would protect you and I let you down. I am so sorry, please forgive me.” Tears pool in his eyes, as he presses his lips to her hands a kiss following each word of apology, anguish flooding his system. 

Silence fills the space between them as he continues to kiss sweet sorries into her skin before she wrangles her hands away, placing them softly on his downward chin, lifting his head until their eyes meet. 

Her dark orbs are now swirled with pain, love and something inexplicable. 

“I should be asking you to forgive me, I don’t want her on this trip. This is just for us, she can’t ruin this.” Her voice trembles despite the force that she exclaims her wish. 

He smiles grimly, “We can’t run from her. You once told me that trauma should be faced head on. You were right, we can’t be expected to be perfect yet. We’re only human, you didn’t do anything wrong. Thank you for coming back and letting me in.” 

I love you.  He thinks it hard enough for her to hear it. 

A sad smile slides across her face, “You’re so adamant these days, I can’t shake you. If I tried to run, you would probably chase me down.” 

He doesn’t verbally reply to her assumption, letting the resolve in his eyes speak volume instead, she has always been able to read him like a book, this time will be no different. 

She appears so delicate and fragile, he doesn’t even attempt to stop himself from crouching up and pressing a kiss to her lips. She moans at the barely-there touch, hands tightening on his face as she drags him closer, deepening the kiss with a languorous swipe of her tongue. He crawls into her space, tilting his face to transform the kiss from deep to dirty, mouths opening to prod and swallow each other. Her teeth graze across his bottom lip before, pulling it and releasing it with a filthy, pop. His dick jumps at the stinging sensation. 

Reluctantly he pulls away from the delicious kiss, worry for her overriding his sex drive, she hadn’t eaten since this afternoon, locked herself away since the lake incident and skipping lunch. It was more important that she get sustenance right now. 

She groans at his sudden withdrawal, blindly chasing after his mouth. He laughs at the adorable image. 

He presses a piece of grilled beef to her mouth instead, chuckling as she opens her eyes in doe-like surprise. He keeps that comparison to himself, she wouldn’t take kindly to him comparing her to self-proclaimed arch nemesis right now. 

“Eat this. My mouth doesn’t have any nutritional value.” 

Her face twists as if she is about to argue, but the booming growl of her stomach pierces the air and she blushes before opening her mouth and consuming the succulent piece of meat. 

Dinner passes by in a flurry of meat and rice, as they take turns feeding each other and she teases him to retrieve meat from her mouth. They talk about the future and all the places they want to go, he hasn’t smiled this much in his entire life. As he packs up their dishes and chopsticks, he sees her stretching, pulling her body taut from the motion. He wonders if she’s wearing anything under his flannel shirt, her bare thighs taunting him for a second time today. 

“I’m sleepy.” 

Like a Pavlovian whistle, his body reacts to the innocuous declaration. Images of their previous night together flood his minds, slamming her into the bedroom wall as he sucked wet kisses into her neck, her legs wrapped around his waist as she sensuously grinded into his erection, her head thrown back in rapture as they imitated sex through their clothes, both hungry as they ripped through the clothes, his eyes rolling back as he slammed into her tight pussy, her nails scratching welts on his back. The sweat on their bodies mingling and drenching her luxurious sheets. 

The soft click of the van door closing slaps him from the memory and it takes a moment to realize that he is now alone. 

He presses down on his erection, hard, embarrassed at how aroused just a memory of her can make him. 

Inhaling the crisp night air, he marches into the battlefield. 

The camping can is dark upon his entrance, the only illumination provided by the stray moonlight that filters in through the tiny windows, after his quick and efficient appraisal of the confined area, he realizes that she is nowhere to be found.  Strange. 

Scratching his head he wonders to his bed mat, pausing for a moment before making the decision to remove his shirt, confidence dominating the usual stream of shyness that floods his bloodstream. He lays down on his bed roll, comically similar to Mun-yeong as she had beckoned him to join her on the bed. He had been a fool then, to refuse such a desirable offer, but he wouldn’t be making the same mistakes ever again.  

The soft patter of her footsteps approaching causes his heart to skip a precious beat. Then it stops completely when she enters his line of vision. 

Temptation. 

That is the word that blares like a siren in his head as he takes her in, her hair is down in soft waves around her face, face washed clean and flawless in the light, and finally he looks at the short silk slip that contours to her every bump and curve. Spaghetti thin straps exposing edible shoulders, as the silk ends dangerously high on her thigh, lace dancing around the ends. 

Jaw permanently on the ground, he watches in dismay as she barely glances at him, wondering eyes fleeting across his abs almost too fast to catch, as she climbs the stairs to her bed, her ascent making the slip creep obscenely up her thigh almost giving him a wonderful glimpse at her ass. 

Pushing past the frog in his throat he croaks out, “Where are you going? I thought we would sleep down here together.” 

She absently arranges her sheets, moving them out of the way, putting her body on clear display for his starving eyes. With eyes that glow in the dark she calmly replies, “Why did you think that? It was your idea to sleep separated in the first place remember?”

Yes, he remembered. When Sang-tae was still on this trip with them, she had offered for Sang-tae to take the bunk bed and they sleep side by side. But he had declined anxiously, knowing that he would not be able to keep his hands to himself if they were sleeping in such close proximity, terrified at losing control so close to his brother. 

She seemed to take a malicious glee from throwing his words back in his face. 

“But that was before.” He whined, “I thought you were sleepy.”

He tried to subtly infuse meaning into the word hoping to remind of their last rendezvous. 

She didn’t bite. 

“I am sleepy, that’s why I’m going to sleep. Good night Gang-tae.” With a quick wave, she rolled over, facing away from him as he glared daggers into her back. 

Fuck. 

He couldn’t see the smirk that overtook her face at his obvious frustration. 

Time ticked by, or it would have if they had a clock in the van. Instead he marked time with the sounds of crickets chirping in the forest. 

Chirp. 

Chirp. 

Chirp. 

Finally he sat up, tossing the blankets from his body as he gazed at Mun-yeong’s still form, the moonlight provided enough radiance to see her perfectly in the dark. He couldn’t resist the pale glow her skin, clearing his throat he called out quietly, “Mun-yeong? Mun-yeong-ssi? Are you awake? Mun-yeong?”

His calls went unanswered. 

He sighed. 

Then he picked up a shoe throwing it at the wall of the camping van, the sound deafening in the silence. She jolted up, with quicker reflexes than you would expect from someone who was deeply sleeping. “What was that?” She turned to him, shock on her face. 

Twisting the truth slightly he replied, “Um.. I don’t know. Sounds like something ran into the van. Probably an animal. But now that you’re awake I was wondering if you’re cold?”

There was a pregnant pause and he vaguely heard her whisper under her breath, “Ran into the van, my ass” before she spoke loud enough with the intention of him hearing, “No, I’m not cold. If you’re cold you should use Sang-tae’s blanket he left it for you.”

He rolled his eyes at her helpful suggestions, that was the last thing he wanted. So he pressed on, “I’m using that blanket too, but I’m still cold.” He gathered the blankets as he approached her bed, resembling a child fleeing to their parents room after a bad dream. 

“What do you want me to do about that?” She asked, still turned away from him and that made it effortless to ascend the stairs and slide into the bed with her. His body’s weight sinking into the bed, announced his presence and she looked at him in surprise. 

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cold.”

“I told you to deal with that on your own.”

“No, I want you to help me deal with it.” He pulled her into his arms, crushing her face into his naked chest. Minutely moaning at the smooth feel of her nightgown on his skin. 

With a huff of dramatic annoyance, she pushed him away, turning her back to him again before saying, “Fine you can stay. Please go to sleep, just go to sleep.” 

Their night at the guest house surfaces in his mind, her pleas for him as he coldly rejected her once again and begged her to sleep, suppressing his desire to take her right there and then. Karma was indeed, a dish that was best served cold. 

He now knows exactly what she’s doing and why. She is serving him a taste of his own medicine, showing him how he made her feel in those moments when he wasn’t quite ready to let her in, but wasn’t man enough to voice that to her either, so he lashed out and hurt her unnecessarily. 

Gathering his courage, he swallows his pride, “I’m sorry.”

Silence is his only reply. 

Then with a small move, she presses back into his chest, their bodies melding from shoulder to toe. 

He wraps his arms around her, humming at finally having her back in his arms. He holds his breath, waiting for the seduction to continue but she simply lays in his arms, contently playing with his fingers while he’s so hard he could hammer nails with his cock. 

With a casual grip he begins to play with her fingers too, moving their hands up until they are treacherously close to her breasts, ensuring that every swipe of his thumb on her hand also collides with her nipples. Her breath hitches when he catches her erect nipple, but she doesn’t stop him. 

Then he begins to undulate his hips, thrusting his boxer-clad cock into the silk of her slip, groaning at the intoxicating sensation before his control snaps like a rubber band and he surges forward, pulling her close and grinding into her with dark intentions. 

She hisses at his cock’s hard crash into her ass, “Aiish you sly fox, is this why you came here?” 

In lieu of responding to her obvious inquiry, he pushes his hand down the front of her gown, squeezing her breasts in his hand, harshly pinching the tight nipples until she moaned and squirmed in his hands. He pumped his thick length into her back, haphazardly catching her ass and the crease of her thighs with each rough thrust. With a punishing squeeze to her chest, he retracts his hands only to push his boxers down his hips, cock bouncing out in excitement, ready to play. 

His eyes roll back at the feel of her silken gown on his hot engorged skin, precum wetting the material obscenely, as the game ends and she is as enraptured as he is, humping back into him, vigorously. Ripping her panties off from under her nightgown, he tries to plunge a finger into her moist center, but his elbow knocks into the bed railing and he groans at the hindrance. She is a panting mess in his arms now, pressing back into his heavy thrusts, his cock catching on her wet folds, as they both moan in pleasure. 

“Can I try something?” Nerves prickly under his skin.

The question leaves his mouth before he can talk himself out of it. She stills at the sudden question but shakily replies, “Yes, just do it. Stop talking.” 

He laughs at her impatience, jubilant that she wants him with as much vigor as he wants her. Grabbing her around her waist, he hoists her up into a seated position before sitting up too, using that leverage to turn her upside down, before dragging her onto his body and he lays back down onto the bed. 

A perfect 69. 

She gasps at the sudden change in position, before looking back at him from over her shoulder, “I knew you were watching porn in the bathroom. Next time, come to my room we can do some hands on learning.” 

He swats her ass in retribution, “Now you’re the one talking too much.” 

She smirks pressing her lips together and he can’t help but joke, “Well you don’t need to close it completely, just put it to better use.” 

Eyes darkening from the proposition, she leans forward and swallows the head of his cock, wet mouth wrapping him in a squishy heaven. His hips subconsciously jerk forward, forcing more of his length in her mouth and she moans around the intrusion. 

Then he looks up at the feast before his eyes, her wet and open above him, primed to be devoured by his hungry mouth. He wastes no time in licking her folds, wiggling his tongue into the moist cavern and groaning as she moans at the sensation, vibrations tingling around his cock. They both set off to wreck each other, her tongue relentless as she slurps and licks every inch him, distracting him from wrecking her. At a particularly hard suck at his balls, he shoves two fingers into her, corkscrewing immediately and giving her little room for adjustment. 

He grabs her ass cheeks to pry her open further to his onslaught, twisting his fingers into her at the same time licking across her clit, pulling it into his mouth and humming at her addictive flavor. 

She pulls off his cock to shout, “Fuck.” Among other expletives and it’s good that he’s not a religious man because pure blasphemy falls from her sinful mouth. He misses the feel of her mouth around him, so he thrusts up wildly catching her mouth as he fucks into her, in perfect synchronization as he fucks into her with his fingers. 

She is a drooling mess above him, spit drowning his cock in a filthy river, he focuses on making her lose her mind as he feels his end growing near, tongue and fingers both hammering at her pussy, plunging, filling, worshiping. 

Her body twitches violently, drawn tight like a bow, before snapping its release and her juice rain down on his waiting face, bathed in her glory. 

His tongue never stops its lap at her until she keens in pain, “No more, it’s too much.” Reluctantly he pulls away, pretty swollen lips closing at his retreat, he kisses them one final time. 

Without warning, she leans forward and slides down his cock, pushing past her gag until he feels himself slide down her throat and two quick fucks into that constricting paradise is all it takes to shoot hot cum down her throat, his eyes roll in the back of his head. She swallows and swallows, until finally drawing off as the abundant cum dribbles on his naked thighs, some even pooling on the sheets. 

Collapsing to her side of the bed, it takes some effort to meet her eyes in their opposite positions, her head at his feet. But when he does, he sees all the love and fire he knows shines luminous in his own, he worries if this passion might just be too powerful for even them, might it burn them up leaving nothing but their ashes? 

What a way to go. 

He gathers her pliant body in his arms, moving her until she's sheltered in his arms, she will never have to sleep alone again, she has Gang-tae and Mang-tae. The doll now clutched tightly in her hand.

They drive for days before they come across a small town, pulling into a gas station to refill the van tank. They hadn’t yet emptied it since their first fill and he was working hard so they wouldn’t, loathing the idea of getting stranded on the side of the road with Mun-yeong. She would chew his head off. 

“Be careful.” He calls out to her as she wonders into the diner adjacent to the gas station, they’d she’d grown tired of rice and grilled meat and had decided to get some food at the nearest diner. He’d told her to go ahead and get them a table, while he refilled the camping van. 

He thinks about how far they’ve come on this journey, literally and emotionally. He has shared stories with her that he has never shared with another soul, not even Jae-su. Has experienced things he never thought he would be allowed to, this trip itself was a life long dream that he'd foolishly given up on but she showed him that it was okay to dream.

He didn't have to suppress his every whim or desire, was teaching him everyday that he was worthy of wanting and receiving.

With all those thoughts permeating his mind, he is completely caught off guard when he enters the diner and sees her menacingly looming over three young boys, a butter knife in her hand. "If you keep bothering her, your parents won't have children." Those are the words, he hears her utter, to children.

All who, trip over themselves fleeing from her screams of “A witch, a witch!” as they scamper back to their tables and said parents glare at the women dressed in black from head to toe, provoking their innocent children. 

She smiles at them, waving with the knife still prominently in her hand. He promptly snatches it from her grip, reprimand on the tip of his tongue before a small mouse-like voice cuts him off.

"Thank you lady. Are you a princess?" Appearing from behind the shadow of Mun-yeong's body, a thin child creeps out, twiddling her fingers as she gazes up at Mun-yeong like the stars are hung in her eyes. He's never seen a child look at her like that. 

"No. I'm not a princess. They weren't wrong, I'm a witch." She answers deadpan, twirling her fingers to add to the glamour.

She looks very much the part in a bellowing black dress with a full skirt and puffy sleeves, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail with a black rose pin in the front. She towers above the young girl in shiny black leather pumps, that almost gleam under the fluorescent lights. Armor back on since the lake. 

He readies himself for the cries that her statement will evoke.

Flabbergasted when instead he hears, "Cool. You're the prettiest witch I ever saw."

Mun-Yeong preens at the compliment before turning to walk away, but the girl catches the material of her dress, rudely tugging it to get her attention.

The sharp eye at the hand on her dress is enough to make the girl immediately release it but Mun-Yeong peers down in question, "When I grow up will I be pretty like you?"

Without even a second to consider Mun-Yeong replies, "No. No one is pretty like me."

He watches the joy melt from the child's eye and opens his mouth to lessen the blow, take the sting off her too blunt words. But she beats him to it, "You shouldn't aspire for looks, you can't control that. Pick something you can control, like being strong so you can beat up your bullies." Her little shoulders perk back up and she beams at Mun-Yeong, his girlfriend's lip curl up at the side.

Before she walks into the diner, finding an empty table, he watches in shock as the young girl wordlessly trails after Mun-Yeong. The sight so familiar it knocks him in the heart. Just like flies to a fire, people like them were drawn to Mun-Yeong's light, the sparks that singed around her as she boldly did what you only dreamed of.

He joins them both at the table, and finally takes a good look at the little girl. She has a cute round face, rosy cheeks, her hair is pulled back in a disheveled ponytail, what stands out are her clothes, they are too put it kindly filthy. Tattered mess that hand off her thin frame and immediately the need to protect her overwhelms him.

"So what's your name brat?" Mun-yeong's deep voice breaks the silence.

"Min-jo."

He sends a warm smile in her direction, noting that her eyes haven't once left Mun-Yeong. Still he adds to the conversation, "Hi Min-jo, I'm Moon Gang-tae and this is my girlfriend Ko Mun-yeong. She writes children's books, maybe you've read one of her books before."

If her eyes were filled with adulation before, now it is tenfold as she jumps in her seat, "You write books? That's so cool! Do you like it? Are they fun? What are they about?"

Taking a sip of the water, the server brought them a few minutes ago with the menus, Mun-Yeong glances from the corner of her eye, before darkly whispering, "They're about chatty little brats who get eaten when they ask too many questions."

Min-jo's eyes widen in shock, little mouth falling into a perfect O, before her bell like giggles ring through the air, "You're so funny Ms. Witch!"

Mun-Yeong smiles back, a full face crinkling smile, at a child. Someone else's child. He is stunned into silence as he watches them converse, the kid ignoring Mun-Yeong's hint and asking her a million more questions. She even answers a few. He watches the miracle, stuffing noodles into his mouth, utterly charmed and bewildered.

When they've all finished their meals- he's still shocked at the amount of food such a small body was able to consume- he opens his wallet and places down the amount plus a hefty tip. He stands up and they follow his lead, Min-jo still trailing behind Mun-Yeong, before a voice stops her in her tracks.

"Oy! Where are you going? You know better than to bother the guests, get back here!" A woman in an apron waddles out, catching her by her arms preventing her from taking another step.

The woman bears no resemblance to the child, sharp where she is round so he wonders if that's her grandmother, before he asks the question aloud. Min-jo's head bends down until her face is completely hidden, "No. I'm an orphan I don't have anyone." Her voice is barely a whisper, lost in the wind as soon as it leaves her lips.

He watches Mun-Yeong tense at the word, eyes shifting back and forth between the two. Three orphans in one diner, the world's saddest story.

He wonders if that was what drew the girl to them in the first place. Destiny. Then he remembers what he overheard. Definitely destiny, Mun-yeong showed up when she needed someone to help her. 

If someone shows up when you need then, I call that destiny. 

Mun-yeong sniffs at the tears that are pooling in the child’s eyes, her own eyes dark pools that reveal nothing. 

"That's no excuse to feel bad for yourself, you can't control that either. Stop following me and learn how to be a leader, then one day when you're older you can make your own family. I did." Her words are matter of fact with no warmth yet he sees the hope they ignite on the child's face, her eyes large in wonder. Pride washes over him like a wave.

Mun-Yeong turns to leave, before promptly stopping and returning to the girl, bending down to meet her at eye level, "Tell those bullies that a witch gave this to you and if they tease you again it'll turn them into frogs." She unpins the black rose pin from her hair sliding it into the young girl's messy hair, her little hand comes up to touch it in wonder.

Tears swimming in her innocent eyes.

Without another word, Mun-Yeong leaves in a whirlwind of black cloth and witchy flair, and he watches Min-jo watch her, her seemingly cold words had been exactly the balm this child needed. He bids Min-jo farewell, bowing at the older woman who takes the young girl's hand, maybe not her biological grandmother but clearly she cares for her. He hopes they let each other know one day, their true feelings.

Love should be shared and acknowledged, unless what's the point of loving?

"You made her feel better."

She looks up at him from her place on the chair, passively, "I told her the truth."

He noticed a long time ago that she doesn't quite know how to respond to compliments, begs for them but once she receives them she quiets down as if taken back by their presence.

"You did really well Mun-Yeong, I'm so proud of you." Instinctively her head comes forward seeking his hand and he happily strokes his hand across her head, amazed by the woman he loves. He impulsively presses a kiss to her head as well, breathing in the floral aroma clinging to her hair.

That night as they lay together, no facades this time, she walks right over to him and slings into his arms, demanding that he stroke her head to help her fall asleep. He concedes happily. Too tired to try for anything more, he resolves to do it tomorrow. The thing that has been on his mind since he told her that he loved her.

He's going to ask her.

What's the point of having all this love and not showing her?