#only to drop it like a hot potato when there was a chance to explore it

[gingerslemonade]

I don't think I can even, like, begin to describe all the ways and levels in which SSGN makes me mad.

[existslikepristin]

Please, No Virginity Puns

The most recent thing I posted before tumblr. It was on Choerry's birthday, and I am proud of that.

Tags: TheLounge, Loona, Choerry, male reader insert, it's her birthday!, 100% butt stuff, I ate a thesaurus

~~~~~

It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you get there?

Well, moments prior, you were sitting next to Choerry at your small dinner table. She’s always insisted on sitting as close to you as possible in order to enable near-constant snuggling. It’s gotten a little annoying here and there, but you can’t help but concede to her innocent demands whenever she smiles.

Of course, and not that you’ve ever complained about this, that’s not to say that her demands aren’t always entirely innocent. Most of the time they are, but not always.

That day, for example, you woke her up with breakfast in bed. It wasn’t tradition, but you were just getting her back for the last time she did it for you. And what better day to present her, prone, with a pancake, pulverized potato, and porridge parfait platter… with toppings… than her birthday?!

It can be hard to tell if Choerry is acting or not at times, but you’d like to think that her cartoonish level of enthusiasm for the treat was entirely real. She carried that sunshine throughout the rest of your day, skipping through the park, greeting everybody on the way to, inside, and on the way out of The Lounge, at the surprise party that you helped all of her members get her with, and when she dragged you to her room.

Not a drop of alcohol had touched her lips that night, so it was all the more surprising when she shoved you onto her bed and stated matter-of-factly-but-also-vaguely that she wanted you to put a thing in her butt. Her words came out of her mouth like shimmery soap bubbles.

You had to pause for a moment to process her words. You were certainly up for some sexy times with Choerry. You had anticipated it was going to happen when she put your hand down her pants near the end of the birthday party with no attempt at subtlety. But her exact word choices had you rubbing your temples out of exasperation, even as she stripped herself down to her ridiculously cherry red lingerie.

Your chance to admire that rare view was lost to history, however. She removed the lingerie from her body while she claimed your lips. Your disappointment at not getting the opportunity to remove it yourself quickly faded when she popped back up though.

Her breasts were as perky as her attitude, and also your dick. She was quick to notice the latter and made quick work of your clothes too. She sighed satisfactorily at the sight of your sword and stooped to supply it with a suck and some slickening slobber, so you suspected the sex was starting summarily; more swiftly than standard, it seemed.

Concerned for her well being, you made sure to ask if she had lube available. Again, you weren’t going to complain about her gusto, but she lacked the anal experience that some of your mutual friends had, at least you assumed. Sure enough, there was a bottle mere feet from her reach in her drawer. She grabbed it and jumped back on top of you, pouring it generously over her ass crack and your cock with surprising accuracy for someone so engaged with a hot and heavy kiss.

You were sure you had something to say on the matter. Perhaps some additional words of caution, maybe some other words of encouragement. It didn’t matter what you had to say anymore. Choerry was already on top of you, nude and keeping you muted with her tongue. How did you-- come back around to the exact same thought that the story began with?

“It’s okay, right?”

You attempted to blink away your stupefaction. “O-okay?”

“Mhm! For me to… you know!” She leaned in and whispered directly into your ear, “Put your penis in my butt.”

Ah, yes. The demand that you had nearly forgotten in her flurry of kisses, now slightly reworded to include your dick in the equation. “Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?”

“Just checking!”

“We’ve… done this before.”

“I know!” Choerry swooped back in to continue kissing you, implying that she had no intention of expounding further. Her fingers wrapped around your cock, massaging the whole length to ensure that the lube had maximum coverage.

Your breath caught as you felt her readjusting you, tapping you around between her legs as she tried to match you up with her intended target purely via exploration. Your cock was ground between her ass cheeks, the tip slid over her clit, and dipped briefly into her pussy. A groan was the only complaint you could give to only being given a half second of her fantastic heat.

You didn’t have to wait long to get it back. Her ass opened up to the pressure she applied against it with your dick, but exceptionally slowly. Choerry released a series of little exclamations into your mouth as she pushed. She tossed the lube bottle to the side and snatched your hand, curling her fingers into your palm.

Finally, the last pop came, and was followed by a short slide. With no more manual guidance necessary, she grabbed your other hand as well, which promptly slipped out of her grip considering the amount of lube present.

Choerry released you from your kissy bliss to look at her slippery hand, a mixture of anger and amusement on her face. She tried a couple more times to hold your hand with it, but you liked this look. You easily slithered your hand out from under hers every time she slapped down. It was like watching a cat trying to catch a laser pointer.

It was just another reminder that no matter how deep inside Choerry you may physically be, she’ll never stop bringing a goofy-ass smile to your face.

Finally, you relented and entwined your fingers with hers, locking your knuckles together so you wouldn’t fall apart. She glared down into your eyes, but a grin still crept through. “Thank you,” she said, lips tight and nose scrunched up.

With you fully in her grasp, Choerry straightened herself up, allowing you the opportunity to look up and down her sublime figure. Though her movement caused her to cause you to penetrate her a bit further which caused her to flinch slightly, she kept herself aloft on her knees to not go too far all at once. She closed her eyes and took a series of deep breaths there, as calmly as if she was meditating.

As much as you wanted to go ham on her ham, you didn’t want to hurt her, so you contented yourself with watching her chest rise and fall. “Happy birthday…” you whispered.

“You’ve already told me that today,” Choerry intoned, eyes still closed like she was drifting off into her own little world.

You laughed. “I was saying it to myself! Have you seen you?”

She smiled again, and said three words in a voice that made it seem like she was speaking to an audience on the edge of their seats, “Okay, I’m ready.”

Her fingers constricted around yours, so you questioned if she was, in fact, ready. But you wouldn’t be the one to stop her.

Choerry’s tight tush trucked its way toward the top of your tower twice to tighten her take on the task at the time, before torturously trending testicle-ward. She temporized without taking your entire tool.

So hypnotized were you with her graceful movement that you didn’t even notice the frustrated moan coming up your throat until it was too late.

Her eyes popped open. “I’m sorry!” She sounded like she meant it, too. “This is… tough.”

“Take your time,” you said, straining your voice for comic effect.

“Could have used that four paragraphs ago,” she said, continuing her extremely slow descent down your shaft.

The odd statement distracted you just long enough for Choerry to finish her drop. No longer did space separate your pelvises. You grew concerned again when she winced and bit her lip from the inside.

“Choerry, we really can do something else. Don’t hurt yourself please.”

She gave you an exaggerated, indignant gander. “Rhetorical question: Who gets to choose the cake on her birthday?”

You held in your “cake” joke.

“It’s me,” Choerry’s voice was far too chipper to make this talking-to sound as stern as you were sure she wanted it to come across as. “As birthday lady, I get to pick the cake, and I get to feed it to you if I want to.”

You held in your “cake feeding” joke.

“And tonight, the cake I pick is my bum.”

You opened your mouth to comment on her most excellent selection of the word “bum” in the midst of a scenario where your cock is fully inside of said bum, but you instead gasped a sharp breath.

Choerry ground forward, pulling your dick with her and anointing the lowermost part of your stomach with the juices being lightly sprinkled from her clit.

“Besiiides,” she continued, re-angling her hands to she could tickle the backs of yours, “We have all the lube! Even some that’s got a certain special flavor to it!”

“Just some?”

“Yeah, ooh,” she crooned, apparently quite enjoying the grind back down your pelvis, “I didn’t get it all at once. Now guess the flavor!”

You waited for her grinding to pause again to be able to think straight, “Does it start with a ‘C?’”

Her smile grew. “Yes!”

“Is it a fruit?”

“Yes!”

“Is it… cherry?”

“Failure!”

“Wha--”

“It’s coconut!”

If you weren’t so established in your hand holding with Choerry, you’d have palmed your face. Thankfully, thoughts of how she could have possibly expected you to guess that were pushed to the back of your mind as she resumed her removal of your breath with a series of fanciful body rolls.

Finally fucking her fanny felt fictional. For while not the first foray there, far-fetched was the philosophy that it was fielded often, the front being the favored fornication fissure for the foreseeable future. Unless, of course, you could make this an especially special session.

But woe was unto you. Choerry had the upper hand(s) figuratively as well as literally. But, perhaps, you thought, this was exactly what she wanted and you could wait your damn turn to take control.

And you liked letting her anally probe herself this way, so, you know, what were you to do but enjoy the ride?

Over the course of her self-imposed ravaging, Choerry’s meditative breaths became ragged. Her eyelids fluttered at regular intervals. Through it all, she held her phantasmagorical demeanor. A couple of times she reached for the lube bottle and shotgunned it somewhat inaccurately between her legs, but it did the job. You were happy to see that she was still considering her own comfort.

In fact, to your surprise, her mouth opened wide in a silent shout. Her core trembled anticipatorily. Her hands held yours with a colossally increased lewdness. And those two mystical words trickled from her tongue with a high-pitched susurration, “I’m… cumming…”

Choerry’s grinding came to a grinding halt. Her body jerked and she fell onto you. Your cock sprang free of her ass in, and as a result of, the same motion.

You untangled one of your hands to stroke her back in the most adoring fashion you could muster. After chewing on a thesaurus for the prior hour, you were sure neither of you really needed any more words.

She stayed there for a spell, and you were happy to let her. It was so late it was nearly no longer her birthday, but her birthday it still was. She deserved the rest, along with the rest of your undivided attention.

Her whole movement consisted of her back going up and down as her lungs attempted to revive her fighting spirit, and her thumb lovingly shifting over the divinatory lines on your palm. You wished she would do something about her hair plastered on your chin, but ninety-nine percent of paradise is paradise enough.

You were disappointed when Choerry rose once more, slimily straddling your stomach. She detached her hands from yours to give the hair on either side of her face a good backward flick over her shoulders, and she sighed with contentment.

It was a shock to hear her speak again after such a prolonged reticence, but her unerringly cheerful voice was entirely welcome nonetheless.

“More please.”

You couldn’t then, and you still can’t help but concede to her innocent demands. Her smile just touched the corner of her lips. Sure, some of her demands aren’t so innocent, but… How did you get here again?

[here4theheartbreak]

Rest, Relaxation... And Exploration

AO3 Link Here!

Collaboration with: @i-live-so-i-love Relationships: Junkook x Yoongi Genre: smut Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~5k

Tags: smut, friends to lovers, Nephilim Jungkook, monster/human Romance, mutual masturbation, handjobs, first kiss, getting together, tentacle monster, tentacles as erogenous spots

Summary: Jungkook knows that Yoongi needs a break, and wants to help him relax. He just hadn't planned on THAT kind of relaxing.

A/N: Written for @calixwrites - hope you enjoy!!

“Why are we doing this again?” Yoongi grumped, getting out of the car and squinting at the sunlight. 

Jungkook twisted and stretched as he stood up, trying to wake himself after the long drive. The day was almost warmer than he’d prefer but it was perfect for what he had planned. 

“Because you have been working too much in that tiny studio with no windows, no sunlight, and no fresh air for too long. You need some outdoor time,” Jungkook reminded him. 

“I’m allergic to sun and fresh air,” Yoongi deadpanned. 

Jungkook was used to Yoongi’s dry humor. He’d known him for years. Ever since he’d accidentally walked in on Jungkook in full Nephilim mode; all thirteen eyes and six tentacle-esque wings on display. Jungkook rarely had them out, even in private, but he’d been in a public bathroom trying to get his clothes and hair perfect for a date. And frankly, sometimes it was just easier with six extra appendages. 

He had been able to keep Yoongi from screaming and convinced him he wasn’t crazy. Originally, Jungkook had only meant to keep tabs on him so he didn’t try to run to the authorities, but somehow, he’d gotten a close friend out of it. A friend that, right now, desperately needed some fresh air and a good meal. 

“Hush and help me unpack,” Jungkook scolded.

Together they lugged it all up the stone steps in one go. (Tentacles really could be handy sometimes.) The beach house that Jungkook rented for cheap from a friend of a friend was small and tidy. One room served as the kitchen, dining room, and living room, plus a bathroom and a tiny bedroom. It would do for a night. The real benefit of the place was that it came with a quarter mile of private sandy beach. 

“I thought the point of this was to get me out of a tiny room?” Yoongi teased after they finished looking around. 

“it is. Which is why we’re going to lay out in the sun. Put some swim trunks on.” Jungkook beamed at his horrified expression. 

“I’ll burn to a crisp! We don’t all have your magical immunity to the sun, you know.”

“I packed you sunscreen. The strongest I could find. You’ll be just fine. And you get to do one your favorite things. Just with fresh air and sunlight.” 

Yoongi continued to look skeptical. Jungkook pouted. “Just give it a chance?”

Yoongi’s expression softened; Jungkook knew it would. The human couldn’t resist a good pout. 

“Fine.”

The two of them changed and made their way across the hot sand. About halfway between the house and waves Jungkook stopped.

“The perfect spot!” He announced, setting down the bag and rummaging through it. Yoongi looked around.

“What makes this spot any different than anywhere else?”

Jungkook shook a large blue and white striped towel and laid it across the sand. He flopped onto it dramatically, the ground giving a satisfying thunk at his bulk. “Because this spot has a towel.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Jungkook reached out, fishing through the bag for a second towel. He threw it to Yoongi, smirking when it smacked the other square in his grumpy face. 

Yoongi set it out, his expression decidedly softer. He settled onto the blanket and paused before kicking his sandals off and tugging his t-shirt over his head. He rolled onto his stomach, head pillowed on his folded arms. He wiggled a little, making a spot for himself in the soft sand. “This isn’t so bad,” he hummed.

Jungkook tried not to stare. It’s not that he’d never seen Yoongi without his shirt on. There had been occasions over the course of their friendship where he’d spilled something on himself, or it was just somehow more convenient, but admittedly it wasn’t often. Jungkook hadn’t actually expected him to take it off. But there he was, his broad back looking far paler in the sunlight. 

They were just friends. But, that didn’t stop Jungkook from having eyes. And Yoongi was an attractive human even by human standards. Yoongi had his eyes closed; the soft curve of his lashes and the resting pout of his lips drew Jungkook’s attention next. He really, truly was achingly beautiful. 

Jungkook dug around in the bag and dropped a bottle of sunscreen next to Yoongi’s head. 

“There you go, potato chip.”

Yoongi grunted and opened his eyes. 

“Were you already half asleep?” He asked, rummaging through the bag for a snack.

“Maybe. Did you just call me a potato chip?”

Jungkook pulled a bag of actual potato chips from and popped it open. He smirked. “Yeah. You said you were going to get crispy. And you’re already plenty salty.” He tossed a few of the ships into his mouth. 

Yoongi ignored your joke and squeezed a dollop of the lotion onto his hand. He began to rub it into his arms and face methodically. It was a little unnerving to watch his features slowly be obscured by the sunblock. He glanced up at Jungkook and cocked a brow. 

Jungkook smiled sheepishly, aware he’d been caught staring in an entirely creepy way. He offered Yoongi the bag of chips in an apology. Yoongi reached for them, but paused, both his hands covered in the gloopy lotion. He shrugged and held his mouth open like a baby bird instead. With an affectionate shake of his head, Jungkook dropped a chip into his mouth. Yoongi chewed and swallowed, and demanded yet another with an open mouther. 

“Too greedy,” Jungkook scolded through a laugh, dropping another chip into his mouth. 

He was actively ignoring the fact that it felt a little coupley to be hand feeding him chips. It wasn’t that he’d never considered a romantic relationship with Yoongi. He just knew it would never happen. They both had busy lives and, not to mention, Yoongi was so far out of Jungkook’s league it was nearly laughable. So, any crush that may have tried to bloom was quickly uprooted; Jungkook valued their friendship far too much. 

After the third chip, Jungkook tossed Yoongi something to wipe his hands with. He laid back to enjoy the sun, feeling much of his stress being chased away. 

“Hey, can you do my back?” Yoongi asked, popping the bubble of relaxation Jungkook had been drifting away into. He sighed and sat up, taking the bottle from Yoongi. 

“You have such pretty markings, it’s a shame to cover them,” Jungkook commented casually as he began to rub the lotion into Yoongi’s back. The lines that arched over his shoulder blade and along his spine were nearly symmetrical. As Jungkook worked lower, he wondered what the markings further extension would look like. Humans often had more complex designs in that area, but Jungkook had never seen Yoongi’s. With how shapely Yoongi was though… Jungkook could only imagine they would be just as pleasing. 

“Huh?” Yoongi asked softly. “What markings?”

“These,” Jungkook traced one line that dipped along Yoongi’s spine, still faintly visible through the metallic speckled UV reflecting lotion. 

Yoongi squirmed. 

“Ticklish?” Jungkook asked, repeating the action. 

Yoongi grunted, wiggling away from his fingers. “I will put so much spice in dinner tonight that you won’t be able to taste anything for a month,” he threatened, laughter in his deep voice. 

“Oh fine,” Jungkook held up his hands, relenting. “Now hold still so I can finish.”

“Hey, I was holding still. You started it.”

Jungkook smiled at his pout and set back to work. Just as he finished up, Yoongi spoke again.

“Really though, what markings? Do I have scars or freckles that I don’t know about?”

“No, your stripes,” Jungkook explained hurriedly, hearing the worry in Yoongi’s voice. 

Yoongi craned his neck back to see Jungkook over his shoulder. “I don’t have stripes.” 

It was then that Jungkook remembered. “Oh! Duh. I forgot. You must not have the right ocularity to see them.” 

He was normally so careful around humans. His parents had drilled into him how important it was that people didn’t ever know about his differences. He almost never brought up the things he knew humans couldn’t see with their limited visual range. But Yoongi made him feel so normal. Aside from his initial freak out, he’d never acted like Jungkook’s abilities were anything more than a unique curiosity or a party trick. His expression now remained puzzled. Jungkook closed all but two of his eyes, limiting his vision to what a human would have. He couldn’t help but frown at the way Yoongi saw himself. It was so plain, like a rainbow in black and white for a human. Yoongi was still gorgeous, but that spark was missing. A human’s markings and colorings told Jungkook so much about them than their visible light ever could. Yoongi’s were particularly stunning from day one. 

“In your visible light spectrum, they aren’t there,” he further explained.

“Ocularity? That sounds like a word Namjoon would know. Some obscure thing.”

“It means the number of eyes you have normally. Though I suppose in this case it’s more about spectral frequency than actual number of physical eyes…”

“And in your eyes, I have stripes?” Yoongi looked down at himself, curious. “I must look so weird to you.” He laughed lightly.

“Not at all,” Jungkook said. “You’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Yoongi cocked his head and grinned. 

Jungkook could feel his cheeks heat but tried to ignore it. “Yes, beautiful. You can’t tell me you aren’t aware of how stunning you are and how many people find you attractive.”

“Maybe,” Yoongi conceded. “But I didn’t think you did.”

Jungkook’s blush deepened. He tried to ignore it, but thought his cheeks rivaled the sun’s heat at that very moment. “Anyone with eyes thinks you’re gorgeous. So yeah, that includes me. Doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re an annoying troublemaker who worries his friends by overworking thought,” Jungkook stuck his tongue out and turned away, hoping Yoongi would let it go after the riff. 

“So,” Yoongi continued much to Jungkook’s disappointment, “if you have more than the usual number of eyes, and more than the usual amount of uhh… Ocularity… Does that mean you find me more than the usual amount of beautiful?”

Jungkook sighed heavily. “Does it matter?”

“It doesn’t, I guess. I just always thought you were good looking. I never realized you thought the same about me.” 

Jungkook scoffed, rolling his eyes in disbelief. “I’m sure the glowing eyes and tentacle wings are super sexy to a human.” Jungkook could hear the bitterness in his voice, but it had always bugged him. Any partner he’d ever had had only seen a part of him, nobody ever saw him completely, for what he truly was. They’d call him a monster. 

When Yoongi remained silent, Jungkook figured his question had been answered. But Yoongi finally responded, “it is to this human.”

Jungkook snapped his head up to look at Yoongi then laughed. There’s no way that could be true. “You’re just being nice,” Jungkook said. “I appreciate it. But… Let’s just go back to enjoying the sun, eh?” He rolled onto his back on the blanket and closed his eyes, letting his skin soak up the warm rays. 

Yoongi laid back on his stomach fully, silent for the moment. Jungkook could feel him watching him, but didn’t mind. It was a comforting feeling. 

“I’ve always wondered. Can you feel your wings like that? Aren’t they on your back?”

“I can, and they are. But they also aren’t. I can still feel them and move them. You’re used to thinking in three dimensions, as a human. But when I hide my wings or other parts of me, it’s like…” Jungkook frowned as he tried to find an analogy Yoongi would comprehend. “Like taking pants off a paper doll. They both still exist to you, but for the doll, it doesn’t have pants anymore.”

“So hiding your wings is like taking your pants off?” Yoongi chuckled. When Jungkook glanced over, Yoongi winked suggestively. Jungkook’s brows furrowed, confused about what had gotten into his friend today. “No, not really,” Jungkook sighed, opting to ignore the flirtation… If that’s what it was. “It’s not a perfect metaphor.”

“Do you keep them hidden because they’re private? Or so you don’t scare people?”

“I’m pretty sure people would run screaming or try to lock me up and do horrible tests on me if I just walked down the street with glowing tentacle wings and thirteen eyes,” Jungkook deadpanned. 

“You know I wouldn’t thought. But you still almost always keep them hidden from me too. I wasn’t sure if it was because they were private.” 

“Oh…” Jungkook pauses to consider. “I guess it’s just habit,” he finally settled on. Even home alone he rarely brought them out. Only when he needed the extra appendage to flick a light switch off across the room or carry things. There was another long pause as Jungkook thought about Yoongi’s question, and Yoongi, apparently, was thinking as well. 

“Can I see them?”

“Why so curious all of a sudden?” Jungkook asked. His tone was gentle. He sat up and wiggled his shoulders a little to pull his wings into this dimension. 

“Wow.” Yoongi sat up and looked over Jungkook’s shoulder, his eyes tracing the long, golden, glowing tentacles. They shifted subtly in his perception, never entirely free from the currents of the fourth dimension. “I forgot how beautiful they are.” His gaze darted over to Jungkook’s face and he frowned. “What about your eyes?”

Jungkook hesitated. “You sure? I mean glowy wings might be tolerable… But thirteen eyes…”

“I’m sure. I can handle it. No screaming this time.”

Jungkook chuckled a little. He scrunched his face and blinked a few times, letting every part of himself slip into this dimension. It felt nice, like releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

Yoongi stared for a long minute, his gaze intense. Maybe it did feel more like taking your pants off than he thought it would. Jungkook considered hiding his eyes away again; maybe he had horrified Yoongi after all, but Yoongi seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

The pause grew to the point of awkward between them. Jungkook sighed, but opted to ignore it. He rolled onto his stomach to lie in the sun once more, wings still out. 

“Can I touch them?” Yoongi blurted out. He paused when Jungkook looked up. Jungkook could swear he was blushing. “I’m sorry, was that rude?” He asked.

“No. Not rude. Not so different from touching my arm, I guess… I don’t know, really… I don’t know a ton of other Nephilim to have some sort of reference.”

“Oh, uh, right… Sorry.”

Jungkook shrugged and sat up, facing Yoongi. Yoongi did the same. Jungkook spread the tendrils of his wings out in front of him like open hands, glancing up at Yoongi expectantly. Yoongi reached out, setting his hand on top of them. Jungkook was surprised at the sensation. It felt so strange, but not uncomfortable at all. Soothing, in a way. 

“They’re warm,” Yoongi said, surprise apparent in his own voice. He stroked his hand along the length of them, and Jungkook suppressed a shudder. It felt really good. Like someone rubbing his back but… More. Yoongi shifted his hands from stroking three at a time to just one. He twirled his finger around the tip of it, as if spinning a hair. The motion sent an unexpected shiver of pleasure down Jungkook’s spine and he gasped, nearly crying out. He yanked his wings away and instantly shifted them out of sight. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean—” Yoongi cried in surprise. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it would feel like that,” Jungkook stammered, his cheeks flushed and hot.

“Did I hurt you?” Yoongi’s brows were knitted together in concern.

Jungkook wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “No…” He mumbled. Yoongi must not have realized… “The opposite, actually.”

“Oh…”

“I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m so sorry,” Jungkook continued. “I honestly didn’t know it felt like that. I’ve never let anyone touch them, I didn’t know—”

“You’ve never let anyone touch them?” Yoongi asked, cutting Jungkook off.

“Of course not. You’re the only human that knows about them. Who else would have?”

“Your parents?” Yoongi suggested.

“They’re terrified of them. And besides… Now I’m glad they haven’t,” he admitted, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle. 

“It’s not fair.”

“What isn’t?” 

“That there’s this whole other side to you. An amazing side that you don’t get to show anyone. That you don’t get to explore at all because of how people are.”

Jungkook shrugged one shoulder. “I’m used to it. It doesn’t bother me anymore, I’ve spent my whole life hiding it. And besides,” Jungkook smiled. “You know the real me. So, one person has seen it. And accepts it… I hope.”

Yoongi nodded thoughtfully. 

Jungkook looked back down at the blanket. There was a small nagging feeling in the back of his mind, a curiosity about what he’d felt in Yoongi’s hands, what more would feel like. He could explore it on his own, he figured. He wanted to put this whole awkward, humiliating event past him and get on with the relaxing weekend—

“I can help you,” Yoongi said, cutting into his plan. 

“Help me?”

“You don’t know much about… That side. I mean, you didn’t know how it would feel to have someone touch them. But someday, I mean… You’ll meet someone who you can share that with, I hope. So, you’ll want to be prepared, or at least know what to expect. So, if you’re curious and wanted to, I… I could help you explore.” Yoongi looked down as he spoke, fiddling with the sand between their blankets.

Jungkook blinked, his mind taking a long moment to process exactly what Yoongi was asking. Was he actually offering… Based on his inability to make eye contact… And the beautiful pink glow of his cheeks, he was. It was strange, thinking of it, definitely not something friends did, right? Jungkook chewed his bottom lip until it hurt, his head twitching as he thought through the situation. It was definitely more than friends. And he should definitely not say yes. This held the potential of changing their entire relationship forever. Ruining it, even. Or making it something more. Yoongi had mentioned finding him attractive. But that was out of the question. No, he had to politely say no, this was something he could explore on his own. 

“Okay.” The word came out firm and decisive, evidently his mouth had decided to ignore every shred of rationale his brain was giving. 

“Really?” Yoongi looked up, his own eyes wide, as if he were as surprised by the answer. “You… I didn’t think you’d agree,” he admitted. “You’re sure? I do want to. But, I know this is… Big. We can stop any time.”

“I know.” Jungkook nodded. “I trust you.”

Yoongi’s entire face brightened, his mouth upturning into a gummy smile that had Jungkook’s heart fluttering and his cheeks and chest warming. 

He took a breath, not sure where to start. “So… What should I do?”

“Well, I need to see them to be able to touch them,” Yoongi teased, reaching out and waving his hand in the empty space where Jungkook’s tentacles should be. 

“Right.” Jungkook wiggled and let them appear once more. 

“I’ll never get over how pretty that looks,” Yoongi commented. He let his hand fall, watching the movement of them for a moment. 

“So, I don’t know what I’m doing here,” Yoongi said. “You’ll need to let me know how it feels, okay?”

“You mean you haven’t played with tentacles before? What kind of twenty-something year old are you?” Jungkook teased. 

Yoongi scoffed. He reached out, catching one of the tentacles. He squeezed lightly, just hard enough to give some pressure, his eyes on Jungkook’s face.

“That’s okay, doesn’t hurt but… Doesn’t feel like it did before—Oh!” 

While Jungkook spoke, Yoongi slid his hand slowly up and down the tentacle. 

“Better?” He whispered. Jungkook nodded, closing his eyes. Yoongi repeated the motion and reached out for another tentacle, doing the same. He pulled one closer to him, twirling his finger around the tip like he had before. 

Jungkook moaned softly, his eyes snapping open. He covered his mouth with his hands. “Oh, God, I—”

Yoongi let go of one tentacle to tug his hands down. “We’re alone. You don’t have to be shy.”

“This is so weird,” Jungkook mumbled, leaning toward Yoongi a little.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, please don’t stop… Do that again?”

Yoongi chuckled. He repeated the twirling motion and then slid his hand down the tentacle, moving it back up in one fluid stroke. Jungkook felt his belly tighten up and he moaned softly, his shoulders sagging a little. 

“Come closer to me, I want to reach more of them,” Yoongi whispered. 

Jungkook moved onto the same towel, resting on his knees in front of Yoongi, his head bowed. Yoongi made a small noise. He moved forward, wrapping both arms around Jungkook. He caught the tentacles in his hands, sliding his fingers over them and pressing where they emerged from Jungkook’s back. His short nails scraped over one as he stroked his fingers up it, and Jungkook cried out, jerking forward. 

The motion sent him slamming into Yoongi’s chest, his heart pounding wildly.

Yoongi cried out in surprise, tightening his grip on Jungkook’s back. “Hey… You okay?”

“Y—Yeah,” Jungkook stuttered. He could hear Yoongi’s heart pounding as fast as his own. The aura around Yoongi was shifting, a vibrant array of colors that would have made the most strong-willed person a little dizzy. 

“Are you okay?” Jungkook worried. “Is this… Not good?”

“This is…” Yoongi drifted off. Jungkook looked up at him, meeting his gaze. Yoongi’s pupils were dilated and dark despite the sun, his gaze intense. 

“This is what?” Jungkook pressed. 

Yoongi swallowed hard. He shifted, pulling Jungkook closer to him. “It’s okay,” Yoongi whispered. “You can lean on me.” 

Jungkook pouted a little at Yoongi’s lack of an answer, but let himself be guided onto Yoongi’s lap. Yoongi’s hands slid over his back once more, up short, anxiety bitten nails scraping over the sensitive trunks of his tentacles. Jungkook moaned helplessly, letting his forehead fall onto Yoongi’s shoulder. 

Yoongi began to work each of the tentacles in turn, squeezing and stroking, rubbing, each one, testing each. Jungkook’s entire body was on fire. His stomach was knotted in a million twists, a heat and pressure more intense than he’d ever felt before building low inside his belly. 

“Yoongi—” He strained. 

“I’m here,” Yoongi purred. His breath was hot against Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook moaned wantonly. He didn’t care. He didn’t care that they were “just friends”, he didn’t care that this was just “exploring”. Every emotion he’d felt for Yoongi was rushing back. Every glance that was less than friendly, every “what if” whispered in the back of his mind, every moment shoved away and boxed up under the guise of not wanting to ruin things, not being good enough, not being human enough.

“Yoongi!” He cried again, his voice taking on a pleading lilt. He let his head fall back, leaning into the touches. He looked at Yoongi, struggling to focus. The aura of colors surrounding Yoongi seemed to reflect his own inner chaos, shifting and writhing around them. Despite all of the emotions flooding him, it still surprised Jungkook when he felt Yoongi’s lips against his own. It took him a moment to react. Yoongi’s mouth was soft and plush, tasting of the potato chips they’d shared earlier, the faintest hint of coffee from this morning. He felt Yoongi begin to pull away and made a small noise, instinct kicking in. Jungkook wrapped his arms around Yoongi and deepened the kiss, pressing every inch of his own body against him. 

The tentacles that Yoongi wasn’t touching wrapped around them, brushing Yoongi’s back and neck lightly. 

He could feel Yoongi’s cock, pressing up against the fabric of his swim trunks, just as hard as his own. Jungkook brought his hips down, grinding their crotches together gently. It was almost disappointing; the lack of feeling he got from it. It was nice, of course, but didn’t feel near as amazing as Yoongi’s hands on his tentacles. 

Yoongi, on the other hand, reacted beautifully. His hips jerked and he moaned into Jungkook’s mouth, his grip tightening ever so slightly on the tentacles. 

Jungkook pulled back, pressing their foreheads together. He began to hump himself against Yoongi, their breathing rapid as they shared the same warm pocket of air. 

Curious, Jungkook let one tentacle sink down, sliding over Yoongi’s bare knee. He shifted his own seating position and pushed it up slowly, into the leg of Yoongi’s swim trunks and up. Yoongi’s eyes widened almost comically when he felt it, his hands going still.

Jungkook pushed up further, letting the tip of the tentacle brush over Yoongi’s balls, already drawn tight to his body. Up further, and around his cock. He wound the tentacle around it in a firm grip, amazed at the texture he could feel, and how good it felt. He could feel Yoongi’s pulse, fast and strong. He stroked it experimentally. Both gasped. It was so intimate. Though it wasn’t exactly like being penetrated, it was so much more than any masturbation he’d done before with anyone. He began to jerk Yoongi off slow and steady, his own climax drawing closer. 

Yoongi was wiggling and moaning, clearly struggling to maintain composure. He continued to work Jungkook’s tentacles, knowing the perfect motions at this point to send all the good sparks straight to Jungkook’s guts. 

“Please—“ Jungkook gasped. 

“Are you close?” 

Jungkook nodded. Yoongi let go of one tentacle and grabbed the front of Jungkook’s shorts. He pulled them out and pushed them down just enough for the tip of Jungkook’s cock to be exposed. 

“Nobody likes come in their shorts.” Jungkook laughed breathlessly. He did the same for Yoongi, but moved back and pushed them down further.

He watched his tentacle stroke Yoongi’s cock, breathless at the beauty of it. The stripes on Yoongi’s back wound around to his front, swirling around his cock in complex, beautiful patterns. 

“Together—“ Yoongi panted. 

Jungkook blinked at him.

Yoongi let go of his tentacles only long enough to pull him close again. He touched the tentacle on his cock. “Jerk us both off.”

“I can barely feel my cock with you touching my tentacles,” Jungkook admitted.

He still did as Yoongi requested, unable to hide the smile when Yoongi’s hips jerked. The skin of their cocks slid together as he stroked them both with the tentacle. 

Yoongi turned his focus back to the other five, matching pace as they each pulled one another toward climax.

Jungkook came first, unsurprisingly. His head fell back and he shouted Yoongi’s name. His full form shimmered into view, the intensity of his orgasm forcing him into one dimension. His cock spilled his release down the shaft, slicking the way for his tentacle as he continued to stroke them both. Every nerve in his body was on fire, even his tentacles felt as if they were tensing and releasing in time to the powerful climax.

Yoongi swore and jerked. Jungkook forced his eyes open in time to watch, not wanting to miss it. Yoongi’s release spurted onto Jungkook’s belly. Yoongi shuddered, dropping his head onto Jungkook’s shoulder as the waves of pleasure washed over him. Jungkook could nearly see it in his shifting aura, beautiful and hypnotizing. 

The two sat in silence for a long time after their orgasms faded, catching their breath and letting the reality of what happened sink in. Yoongi was the first to move, reaching over and dragging the bag closer. He found the towel he’d used to wipe his hands earlier and used it once more, cleaning the release from their bodies and Jungkook’s tentacles tenderly. 

Jungkook moved off him and back onto his own blanket, fixing his shorts. He shrugged a bit, his tentacles and extra eyes slipping from view once more.

“So…”

“That was…” Yoongi began at the same time. They both chuckled a little, a tension in the air. 

“What do we do now?” Jungkook finally asked. He found himself unable to meet Yoongi’s gaze, afraid of what the other was going to say. 

“You were saying I was handsome. I mean… That you thought I was,” Yoongi began.

“You are.”

“Was it just that? Like… You think I’m handsome but we’re friends and… That’s it? Or… More?”

Jungkook cautiously looked up at Yoongi. He was sitting in a similar position, staring at his hands in his lap. 

“I’m afraid to answer,” Jungkook admitted.

“Please, don’t be. I need to know.”

“I don’t want it to ruin our friendship.” 

Yoongi looked up. “If you’re scared of that… Does that mean it’s a yes? To… More?”

“I tried to ignore it. I figured we were both busy and you’re… So handsome. I’m just…” Jungkook drifted off. 

“The most stunning person I’ve ever met,” Yoongi finished.

“That’s a boldfaced lie,” Jungkook snorted.

“No, Jungkook. It’s not.” Yoongi moved forward. He grabbed Jungkook’s face, cupping it in his hands. “I’ve been fascinated with you forever. You’re funny and kind and beautiful, and so interesting. I can’t get bored around you. You make me so happy. I just figured… I’m so… Human. And how dull I must be to you.”

Jungkook grimaced. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You are anything but dull.”

“I lack the ocularity,” Yoongi responded, his voice shifting as he smirked. Jungkook laughed. He set his hands over Yoongi’s wrists.

“So, it seems like… We both have been interested in more for a while.”

“And were both too worried to say something.”

“Now that the truth is out… What’s next?”

Yoongi smiled softly. “I think we go take a dip in the ocean. And then make dinner… And then come lay on the beach and watch the sunset together… How does that sound?”

Jungkook smiled brightly. He let his tentacles and eyes appear, his heart skipping a happy beat when Yoongi’s smile broadened.

“I think that sounds like the perfect first date.”

[tendertokyo]

My take on NCT at Hogwarts

what is it with me and being active on this god forsaken app all of a sudden... anyways, i know that we've thrown jk rowling in the garbage but listen i can't just throw away my whole childhood for one stupid rich white cis woman. also i have no idea what's going on with the neos but when do i ever? alright here we go

taeil: he's giving me frustrated hufflepuff, like he really wished to be in gryffindoor but it didn't work out. think he'd be a halfblood and have a pet toad. likes to visit hagrid for tea sometimes. simps over some bad bitch in slytherin, really thinks she's into him too, everyone tells him she's way out of his league. broke his wand twice already trying to open a can of sardines

taeyong: also strong hufflepuff energy. he's the keeper and captain of their quidditch team and a prefect too, picked purely cause he's good with kids. walks around without his scarf in the cold winter because he wrapped it around ten's neck one morning and nagged on him for not taking care of his health properly, never got the scarf back and doesn't mind. i feel like snape would intimidate the crap out of him, like he would not be able to stay calm during his classes rip. he'd be adored by all the other teachers though, especially flitwick who believes he's really gifted in charms

johnny: a gryffindoor pureblood and keeper and captain of the quidditch team. always the one who tries to talk things out with mcgonnagall when they pull some stupid shit and get caught, never successful. has the marauders map and likes to throw underground raves in hidden rooms and tunnels. buddies with peeves and the house elves. buddies with everyone actually. and regardless of liking him like that or not, every girl in school has fantasized of fucking him in the quidditch locker room showers ooooop-

yuta: omg the heartbreaker of the school. a halfblood slytherin prefect and beater. snape's favourite student, like he gets whatever he wants from that man without trying. everyone is lowkey into him cause of his hot and mysterious vibe and there are so many rumours about his sex life circulating around, but no one actually knows if he's seeing someone. people also speculate he's a metamorphmagus but no lol he just dies his hair a lot. has a pet cat who's mean to everyone except him and mark. likes to explore the forbidden forest cause he's a weirdo

doyoung: a ravenclaw pureblood who hates quidditch, only shows up for taeyong's matches and nags him afterwards if hufflepuff loses. he's the headboy and happily uses his title to threaten haechan. hates divination with a passion and idolizes mcgonnagal, as he should. knows everyone's bussiness in the whole damn castle, never starts drama but almost always ends it. used to tutor some younger students but they quickly realised he's a mini mcgonnagall and zoomed straight outta there. snape lowkey wishes he was in slytherin but don't tell anyone

kun: gryffindoor headboy, probably the calmest person in that entire house and the only one who can kinda control the chaos. if yangyang or hendery annoy him too much he'll give them the wrong password on purpose, mcgonnagal has this unspoken respect for him for that reason. feels really bad for the house elves and wants to help them as much as he can. known as the dad or daddy of gryffindoor, depending on who you ask hehehehe

ten: the artsiest ravenclaw but fucking terrible at riddles, so he's always stuck at the door unless someone let's him inside lmao. is super into divination but purely for the aesthetic. never wears his uniform properly, always wears taeyong's scarf and lots of witchy jewelry. started a dance club in the room of requirement, loves hogwarts halloween with his whole heart. set a classroom on fire once and managed to sneak away undetected. always hooks up with someone at johnny's parties

jaehyun: the fucking fratboy of gryffindoor. he's a halfblood and a chaser on the quidditch team. left so many girls on read oh my god. sneaks alcohol and weed into school, coorganizes parties with johnny, yuta and mark. people think he's this hot bad boy or some shit, lol no bitch he's a dumbass don't waste your energy on a doofus like him, have you heard his laugh he sounds like a 45 year old man. mcgonnagall doesn't trust him at all, always looks at him with shifty eyes. the fat lady flirts with him everytime he approaches the commonroom door

winwin: on the snobby pureblood side of slytherin, like he gives off really judgy vibes. is in ten's dance club, there's a rumor going around that he's an animagus 'cause he moves gracefully like a cat or smth, but he isn't he's just really talented. spends most of his time in the owlery petting birds. the bloody baron freaks him out, most of the ghosts do. tried to be a big brother figure to renjun and chenle but they bullied his ass like crazy so he dropped them like hot potatoes

jungwoo: the most confident gryffindoor y'all. he's a muggleborn and a chaser. has the cutest pet owl, is really into care of magical creatures. snape hates him because he's too "sunny" of a person. wild at parties but looks fine in the morning somehow. the biggest flirt you'll ever meet and has so many bitches wrapped around his little finger lol, there's a rumor going around that he's real beast in bed. awesome at dueling, uses his cute airhead shtick to apsolutely destroy people. can you tell i love his pisces ass?

lucas: a hufflepuff halfblood and beater. wannabe fuckboy but can't because he cares too much lol, those muscles are made of feelings dawg. hits on every girl he sees and is almost always successful 'cause we're weak for cute and sweet himbos. is the biggest show off on the quidditch field and has his own fan club. really into care for magical creatures, like literally wants to befriend every single one of them, hagrid has to pull his ass away from them before he gets hurt rip

mark: a gryffindoor prodigy, a muggleborn and a chaser. the most stressed prefect you've ever seen. mcgonnagall has a soft spot for him and everyone knows it. snape dislikes him but respects him because he's fucking brilliant at potions. a lot of people like him and are into him but he doesn't know how to respond to them lol socially awkward king. plans parties with johnny yuta jaehyun and ten, is always roped into the dreamies schemes against his will. no one can fucking tell if him and haechan are on good terms cause they're at each other's throats all the time, but slobber all over each other like crazy when they get drunk

xiaojun: the most emotional ravenclaw. a halfblood and a prefect. he dated a girl for a long time and she broke his heart, moped about it in the prefect's bathroom for ages. lowkey believes she cheated on him with yuta but isn't sure, is extra weary around him though. says he's done with love but then simps over a new girl every two weeks smh. no one understands how he's such good friends with hendery and yangyang, like the combination of the two of them is a recipe for disaster. whenever they rope him into their bullshit, he always manages to drop their asses in the perfect time and doesn't get caught. many portaits are jealous of him 'cause he has better bone structure then them lol

hendery: the best definition of a gryffindoor. comes from a rich pureblood family, is a beater on the quidditch team. he's the life of the party, man. out of all the students he hates, he is the one snape hates the MOST and he's so proud of that. a really fast runner so he never ends up in detention 'cause it's just too hard to catch him. buddies with the ghosts and hagrid. tries really hard to impress girls, it only works half of the time when he's not being too intense

yangyang: also a gryffindoor pureblood, tried out for the chaser position but didn't make it, is still bitter about it. has a really fucked up owl that always messes up his letters. constantly in detention, like he's cleaned that entire castle by himself 43 times already. also in ten's dance club, also really good at dueling when he actually tries. really into muggle culture, explores it in his free time and shows everyone cool, new music he found all the time. gives kun daily headaches cause he's way too energetic in the morning

shotaro: imma say he's a hufflepuff but don't quote me on that cause i don't know him that well. he seems like he'd have lots of friends though and would be in ten's dance club

sungchan: don't know him well either so i'll just say gryffindoor??

renjun: i'm torn between ravenclaw and slytherin, gonna go with slytherin for him. he's a halfblood and a prefect, also uses his title to threaten haechan. loves defence against the dark arts anď herbology, might become a healer someday. gets tricked by the moving staircases all the fucking time, ends up at madam pomfrey's way more than he likes to admit. likes the slytherin aesthetic but can't stand the evil stereotypes. most people think him and chenle are brothers, wants to strangle chenle when he plays into it. once told the bloody baron to fuck off, no one dares get on his bad side since that day

jeno: pureblood hufflepuff prefect and a chaser. he's the cute, athletic guy everyone has a crush on. is on snape's good side 'cause he likes cleaning up his brewing station after finishing the task the lession is about. is the best flyer in the entire school and has the best chance of getting scouted in the future, everyone knows it but if you mention it to him he blushes like crazy. i feel like he's been in many fwb situations but they all ended well because he's a gentleman

haechan: a slytherin through and through. halfblood and seeker on the quidditch team. thought he was gonna be prefect and was hella pissed he wasn't chosen, i mean hello you're a snake who would want to give a snake authority goddamn it. also always complains during quidditch matches, calls everything a foul just 'cause he wants to win. puts up this persona of the mischevious slytherin boy but it falls flat on it's ass because he's peeves's favourite target

jaemin: a muggleborn hufflepuff, because of that reason he's sworn to himself he'll take care of jisung like a mother. a chaser on the quidditch team. such a sweetheart my gosh, like that dude is always so happy, unless he hasn't drunk his 6 cups of coffee. speaking of, mcgonnagall and pomfrey worry for his health like crazy but won't admit it. excells at care for magical creatures and charms, horrible at ancient runes like he didn't think there'd be so much math involved. girls are also crazy into him but he's such an introvert, the thought of someone wanting to be around him so much scares him. still flirts with everything that breathes lol

chenle: a slytherin and a pureblood, from one of those rich old families. because of that people expect him to be a lil brat, turns out to be the coolest guy you'll ever meet. he's friends with everyone regardless of house, a chaser on the quidditch team, known as the one who scores the most points in a game. he's great at defence against the dark arts and transfiguration, is thinking about becoming an auror 'cause that dude fears nothing i'm telling you. was made a prefect instead of haechan, rubs it in his face like crazy, but ultimately just let's people get away with stupid shit like "haha nice one, respect". memorized all the secret passageways of the castle in his head, helps johnny, mark, ten and jaehyun with their parties. pisses off filch like no other, was in detention all the time with yangyang until they realised how terrible it is when the two of them are in close contact lol so he gets let off the hook all the time. also fucking flirts with everything that breathes, the biggest fucking tease like you never know what he means smh

jisung: jaemin's muggleborn hufflepuff son, though most people are surprised he isn't in gryffindoor 'cause god the reckless shit that boy pulls... always late to breakfast with his uniforn all messy. people think he's very innocent but like his bestfriend is chenle, so how pure could he be. he's a seeker on the quidditch team, goes extra hard during hufflepuff-slytherin matches 'cause he wants to knock haechan off his high horse. blushes like crazy whenever he sees a cute girl which only gives chenle more reason to tease him 'cause he's a lil bitch like that. is the star of ten's dance club but has tripped and fallen down multiple flights of stairs, this kid's a walking paradox

to conclude:

gryffindoor: johnny, kun, jaehyun, jungwoo, mark, hendery, yangyang, sungchan

hufflepuff: taeil, taeyong, lucas, jeno, jaemin, shotaro, jisung

ravenclaw: doyoung, ten, xiaojun

slytherin: yuta, winwin, renjun, haechan, chenle

[votederpycausemufins]

This one’s short but it exists at the very least. Just had a busy few days and I’m exhausted but also wanted to write. So now we have this

scattered au by @hermitcraftheadcanons and pinging @helleborusangel as always because I can :3

“Alright! That’s going to complete contraption number one! Whack a Melon!” Zedaph said after writing the name on a sign. The sheep hybrid had set up a bit of a base in a clearing of the jungle he had spawned in. When he couldn’t contact anyone, his immediate thought was he could probably rig something up with redstone to send messages.

With that idea in mind, Zed dug down to get the redstone he needed. He also got some diamonds followed by obsidian so he could get into the nether for quartz. As he was finishing that up, he ran out of melons in his inventory, so he had to farm more. With that, he started thinking about a way to make a farm, and so when he finally got some quartz, instead of working on something for communication, he just made the melon contraption.

“Now… what was I doing again?” Zedaph asked himself, taking some of the melons that came out from the contraption courtesy of the parrot he had led in there. “Ah right! Communications! Oh but I’m all out of quartz! Guess I’ll have to go back to the nether.”

He started to go back to his nether portal, but then noticed his pickaxe’s durability was low. He could use his diamond one, but with everything going on, he had left it in a chest down where he was mining. So Zed trotted back down to his mining area and started looking through the chests. But no matter where he looked, he couldn’t find it.

Reluctantly, he just made himself another iron pickaxe, making his way back up the surface and into the nether. He would get more diamonds later. He’d have plenty of time once his contraption was done.

~~~~~

Tango stared at the two pickaxes he held, one in each hand. He knows he only crafted one. He’s absolutely sure of that. He had gathered enough diamonds to make it and some armor, but he hadn’t bothered to make a second pickaxe. So where did he get it?

Tango put both of them in a chest in his small base. The entire thing was made out of stone even though he was surrounded by trees. Or at least, he had been. He had noticed it a bit after the sun suddenly appeared in the sky when he was finishing up for the night before resting. In his shock and joy at something working right, he had suddenly set some nearby wood on fire.

Thinking back, Tango couldn’t think of it happening much before, though he had spawned near a lava lake in the jungle, so his flames and fire from the lava could have gotten mixed up. Still, it was definitely worse now, but he at least had a good way to cook food whenever a stray animal came by.

He was also trying to gather two sheep or cows for breeding as he was growing wheat for bread in replacement of meat. It wasn’t the best source of food, but it was like the whole jungle had been emptied of its melons. A few oak trees were here and there for him to get apples from, but that wasn’t guaranteed.

Tango had also tried going outside the jungle for better resources, but after getting hurt, he wasn’t healing and couldn’t get far with the jungle itself letting a good number of mobs spawn. So now his only chance was to hope a zombie dropped a carrot or potato, or somehow find at least one melon seed.

~~~~~

Zedaph came back through his portal, munching on more melons. They weren’t the best food, but at least he had plenty. Since he wasn’t sure what to do for food, he had just taken any melon he saw, filling his inventory with the fruit. Maybe he could go looking for something else, like chickens or sheep or something to get for food.

Pulling his tools away, Zed started exploring more of the surrounding jungle. For the most part, there were just leaves, wood and vines, but sometimes he could spot a parrot. “Hello? Any chickens out there? I’ve got some seeds and I’ve already got a parrot. Hmm, he doesn’t have a name yet though. Maybe he’s an Andy. Oh yeah! I’ve also got wheat for any cows or sheep. I’ve just-”

Zed reached into his pockets to switch the seeds out for wheat, only to find he had just a single piece left. It was pretty odd, because he knew he had at least six when he started looking. Or was it less than that? Anyway, it was at the very least more than two when he set off. Six or three, because he had thought about making bread, right?

As Zed thought more, he didn’t really notice the fact that he was eating the last piece of wheat he had, not until it was fully gone and his hand was left empty. “What? Why, I think I’ve got a wheat stealer around here! Something really likes wheat, but it’s probably some sort of animal, so maybe I just need to find it and lead it back to my base. Yeah, that should help!”

~~~~~

Tango’s back in his mines when he finds a cave he hasn’t explored yet. Normally, he would just be cautious and explore, or even block it up with everything that was going on. But instead, it was all lit up. For a moment, he’s trying to think if he had just forgotten about the place, but then he also thought about his mysterious second pickaxe. This isn’t just his mine, at least, not anymore. Someone else was close enough that they claimed this place as well.

Immediately Tango was rushing back up to his base. Signs usually weren’t flammable enough for him to worry about, so crafting those could be helpful, and he definitely had wood to spare. He crafted up a few signs and then memorized his base’s coordinates before going back down. He wrote down that he had been there and the exact coordinates of his base.

Tango had no clue when the other hermit would return to mining, or if they were even working in that area anymore. As a precaution, he put more signs up with the same messages, but he still couldn’t help but worry they wouldn’t see the signs. Though right now, that was really his only hope if he didn’t want to be stuck in the jungle for who knows how long.

.

.

Etho was worried he wasn’t respawning anymore when all he saw was darkness. He didn’t know what was up or down or left or right. For all he knew, there was nothing. And then a comm smacked into his face.

It wasn’t his comm, he could still feel it in his pocket. He turned it on long enough to see it belonged to Bdubs. But the owner was nowhere in sight. Etho started to look around for him, but all around was just inky darkness. And then it was pain.

He had reached the part of the void that you couldn’t live in, that tore you apart. No matter how strong you were, the void could kill you, and it was killing Etho.

If it weren’t for the lack of messages of Bdubs dying, Etho would think he were stuck here. But why was his comm here if he wasn’t? As his vision was going dark, Etho had the answer. The void could kill anything, but apparently it wasn’t killing Bdubs. Who knew how far down he was at this point.

On his last hearts, Etho threw the comm down as fast as he could, hoping just maybe that extra speed would help it get to its owner. It was probably already at terminal velocity, but maybe it would work.

And then Etho died again, the void stealing the last of his health: and when he next woke up, he was in a desert, all alone. It was still early in the day at that point, but already the light sand was reflecting the heat back at him. He couldn’t even see any dead bushes for sticks, just cactus. Also lots of sand, the biome large enough that there was only desert around him as far as he could see.

Pulling out his comm, Etho was still grateful for the coordinates they gave. He was pretty far from spawn, but the desert, while hot, was mostly smooth terrain. He could go straight towards spawn with little trouble and hopefully get out of the desert before long. So, with little else to do, he startled walking.

Eventually Etho finally saw some sort of life other than cactus. Well, previous life, as it was some dead bushes which he broke for sticks. Still, it was better than nothing. But that begged the question of why there weren’t any to begin with. That likely would only happen if someone broke them.

Then Etho realized something. He died and suddenly appeared at Ren’s side. Killed and he was in the void finding Bdub’s comm. torn apart by the void, and now he was in a desert someone obviously had been. He wasn’t showing up in completely random places, he was showing up near the other hermits.

Etho stopped walking and immediately started digging at the sand with his hands. He was upset that the sticks were going to be lost when someone else probably needed them, but right now dying was actually more important. He used the sand to build up high below his feet, getting into the air, and then he jumped down, the amount of damage killing him.

As he had been falling, he made mental notes. Ren at a ravine, Bdubs in the void, someone in the desert, and now-

Etho opened his eyes and was met with Impulse’s face. He tried to breath in from shock from nearly being nose to nose with him, but instead of air, his lungs were filled with water. Etho knew he was already running out of time, so he quickly grabbed Impulse’s shoulders and shook him.

Impulse seemed to wake up a little, opening his eyes. It made Etho panic for a second as his normally brown eyes were red, and the ninja was reminded of Ren, but he wasn’t attacked. Instead, Impulse touched him, as if to make sure he was real.

As Etho’s lungs burned more, Impulse died first to drowning, which normally he wouldn’t like, but that meant neither of them were cursed. He started punching at a block, putting all his strength into it. Impulse hesitated for a moment, then joined Etho in his task.

Etho kept punching at the block until he finally died, but he did what he needed to. The cracks were large enough and Impulse still had enough time that even after Etho had died, Impulse was able to finish breaking the block. It didn’t open up to an exit, but Impulse stared at the sliver of air at the top of the space. Etho wasn’t back, but that didn’t matter. As Impulse died again, he started at the next block. That missing block might still be filled with water, but it was also hope.

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 1

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~4,900

Warnings: Blood (go figure)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Next Chapter   Read on AO3   Masterlist

Taglist: @symbiont13

Lilah McNamara knew, in that moment, that she was definitely going to die.  Hanging from the ceiling,  harness digging into her hips, she swung back and forth in a long, slow arc.  Arms waving wildly, she glanced around the room, looking for the first one to strike.  Richie had said no more than five.  Five culebras hiding out in a nest, easily taken down with the right firepower (which they happened to have).  All she had to do was lay the explosives, get to the roof, and repel down the side of the building.  Easy peasy.

As the swing of her movement slowed, Lilah was able right herself enough that an involuntary, nervous smile, flitted across her lips. There were, indeed, five of them. And, they were looking at her, confused. This was good. Confusion bought her time. Her brain worked to come up with a logical excuse for having crashed their...ritual?

The room was a large, open space with little in the way of furniture.  The domed glass ceiling had partially fallen to the tile floor below. There were a few chairs here and there, but the focus of the décor was the altar at one end. There was a copper bowl sitting in the center, the liquid inside thick and red. She filed that away to examine later, when her life wasn’t in immediate danger.

Standing behind the altar was what she assumed was the real target of their mission—which had not been brought up during the briefing for the job. Lilah was going to kill Richie for leaving this out of their plan—she just knew he was hoping for a special guest. And, this special guest was pretty much the end all, be all, of special guests.

Brasa. Rival. Blood drinker. Sun god. He was dressed in all black, a heavy leather coat hanging from impossibly wide shoulders.  Lilah stared at him with doe eyes, knowing the threat that he posed to her far outweighed the threat of the culebras now circling a few feet below. He had eluded all of their schemes to take him down, somehow dodging explosives, machine guns, arcane magic. He was untouchable, and he was here.

Above, a face peeked over the edge of the broken glass. Lilah looked up (or down) at Seth, knowing that panic was plain across her face.

“Pull me up!” she shouted, her gaze moving back to the more pressing danger. This was not how she had planned to die. Though, with the way she was living her life lately, it was the most likely.

Lilah had done some pretty stupid things, pulled jobs in extremely dangerous locales, and had narrowly escaped some serious prison time. In the last few months she’d been with the brothers Gecko, all of the close calls she’d had during her career had been blown to little pieces. Poof. Gone. Utterly unable to compete with the sheer insanity of learning that vampires existed, that demi-gods were roaming the earth, and that she had joined up in the fight against them. If she didn’t kill Richie first, she’d shoot Seth as soon as she got her feet on the ground. Speaking of which...

“Fucking rope,” Seth grumbled, his hands reaching down to grab at it.  

He gave an experimental pull before bracing his foot on the ledge and putting his weight into it. Lilah heard the scrape of it being pulled, her body lifting a few inches. The next grind of material was drowned out by a rising growl that drew her attention, unwillingly, from the culebras’ hungry faces. Brasa was slowly circling the altar, his eyes so black that there was nothing of the white left. His lips were pulled back in a snarl that exposed a dual set of fangs—shorter, but no less sharp than the ones she’d seen on culebras they’d hunted down before. She felt her heart lurch in fear.

The circle of hungry predators opened for him wordlessly, their eyes sparking with villainous amusement, fangs out and teeth bared. Lilah felt her body go involuntarily lax, her arms hanging by her ears. So, this was it. After months of working to quell the flow of these enemies, months of listening to the brothers argue about how best to attack and the most effective defense system.  After all the things she had stolen to give them an edge. After all that...this was her end.

The rope yanked again, lifting her another foot or so. She bounced in the harness, feeling it catch at her inner thighs and shoulders. Another yank. Another foot. Seth wasn’t working fast enough. Brasa was within arm’s reach of her, his fathomless eyes looking up and an unreadable expression on his face. She looked back at him, hoping her death would be quick.

Another yank, this one harder than the last. She cringed as she rose and fell with a little yelp. Looking around, she frowned at the ceiling, her breath stuttering as she caught the fraying of the rope where it met the jagged glass surrounding the hole she’d made by falling stupidly through the skylight. Oh, fuck...it was going to snap.  She was going to fall...Lilah glanced back down (or up), and made a quick calculation. Head first, she would break at least one bone, possibly crack open her head. A painful end, then.

Seth yanked her again, and Lilah could hear him yelling in frustration about it from above.  She grit her teeth and yelled back at him.

“Pull harder, you asshole!”

This man could pull a win out of his ass at any time, no matter the circumstances. And now, he was struggling to pull her up from the depths of her literal death. It figured.

From not so far away, Brasa chuckled and took a step or two back, his shoulders canting down. Lilah flicked her attention from the ceiling to him and back, did it again, then felt herself reach a blind panic. Two running steps, and he leaped into the air, arm outstretched. Lilah made a vain attempt to bat him away, earning herself a strained huff of laughter.

His gloved hand grasped the harness where the five points came together at her sternum. Air pushed out of her lungs as he dug them into the material. His weight, coupled with a counterpoint pull downward had the already frayed rope finally breaking from somewhere above.

For half a second, she was weightless, and then Brasa’s bulk began to fall, taking her along with him. There was no grace in what she did next, a reaction of pure instinct. Lilah’s hands went for his shoulders, the largest target she could get at on him. Her legs kicked out as she grabbed him, the complete force of her body landing on him.

She had intended to take him to the ground, to drop everything she had on him like a hot potato—and then haul ass out the side door.  A couple hundred feet, and she’d be able to pull the burner cell from her pocket and hit speed dial. Boom.

That’s not how it worked out. He caught her.  He fucking caught her.  All her weight, all his weight, the pull of Earth’s gravity, and all. Lilah stared at him as he wrapped his arms around her, holding her about six inches off the floor.  He didn’t even have the good grace to flinch when her toes smacked against his shins.

Arms tucked against his chest, legs hanging uselessly, Lilah could only look at him, agog. He looked back, brows rising towards his hairline. And then he smiled. All teeth, the skin at the corners of his eyes wrinkling. This smile was worse than the smiles of his companions.  This was a real smile, one that indicated a level of happiness that his kind shouldn’t be able to achieve. That, more than anything, scared her shitless.

Above them, a voice shouted, “You let her go, you fucking snake. She’s on our team.”

Brasa let out a soft breath, his mouth relaxing a little, but the smile remained on his closed lips, “I disagree.”

Seth cursed again and was suddenly firing bullets into the crowd around them. Lilah ducked her head a little, noting that Brasa made no move, though his arms tightened even more. Growls and the ricochet of bullets hit her ears, her eyes shut against the flurry.

In his distraction, Lilah was able to blindly free her gun from the holster at her thigh, turn off the safety, and fire a round. The recoil set off her aim, and the shot that was aimed to shatter his femur swerved to the left and merely ended out in a flesh wound. Still, he yelled as he dropped her and that was all she needed to get her feet underneath her and haul ass through the wrong fucking door.

She’d gone right when she should have gone left, her eyes half closed in fear, the whiz of bullets flying around her. The panic made her blind and desperate. Lilah cleared an open doorway and hit the far wall, her feet skidding across the hardwood.  She sprinted down the hall, feeling a scream worm its way out of her throat when a loud, angry howl sounded behind her. It scored through her chest and pushed her to move faster.

Not looking back, she moved through what must have been a common room to another hall, rounding the corner and heading for the only door left to her.  It opened easily, but Lilah found herself hesitating before a set of stairs.

“God, damn it,” she breathed, wanting to not be right where she was at that very second more than she wanted anything in her entire life.

After a moment of indecision, Lilah stepped through and closed the door as quietly as she could behind her. It was dark, and she didn’t want to chance turning on a light. Feeling her way, she stepped down stair by stair until her foot stopped prematurely, nearly setting her off balance.

Inhaling deeply, Lilah swallowed back the urge to cough at the musty smell. She could hide out here for a bit, wait until the coast was clear, and then go back to the original plan. Wait it out.  Original plan.

Lilah tried to breathe, her hands reflexively slipping the clasps of the harness free so that she could have something to do while she thought. There was next to no light—except for what filtered around a walk-out door. Lilah blinked at it for a moment, clearly not able to handle her good luck. She got two steps towards it before she was spinning around and flung the other way. The harness flew from her hand, landing somewhere in the dark. She might have screamed had her throat not clenched so damn tightly that not even air could pass through.

Lilah caught some pretty decent air before she hit the wall with a dull thud and a sharp pain in her side. Landing in a little heap, Lilah struggled to get her bearings. Pushing from the floor, she leaned against the wall and faced her attacker, hand already reaching for her gun. She didn’t even get it out of the holster before her wrist was being held immobile. A palm pressed against her chest.

There was no moving forward or backwards. Not without his permission. Lilah sucked in a breath, glancing at the door behind him, and then back to his face. Cast in mostly shadow, Brasa didn’t look angry, as she expected. He looked...rather pleased. Lilah would rather that he was angry. Angry, she could probably deal with. Pleased was another matter entirely.

Leaning in, he inhaled deeply, his face unnervingly close to hers. Then, he pulled back, looked at her, and breathed, “Finally.”

Try as she might, Lilah couldn’t think of a single thing to say. She just stared at him like a fucking idiot while he looked her over, assessing. His hand pressed minutely forward, knocking a little more air out of her chest, and then he was stepping back and away. With the extra support, Lilah teetered off balance a moment before she caught herself.

It appeared that her luck was more of a fluke, fate’s last taunt before she was snuffed out of existence. She mentally flipped the universe the bird. Physically, she held very, very still. Just because he wasn’t killing her yet didn’t mean that death wasn’t coming.

Brasa remained between her and the door, blocking any hope of a clean exit. Lilah widened her stance, hand reaching again for her gun. Her heart dropped into her stomach when she realized he’d snagged it. A glance at his right hand confirmed it, the glint of the barrel shining in the low light. Fuck.

Brasa set it on a nearby table, and then reached up and tugged on something she couldn’t quite see. A singular light bulb flashed, swaying gently. Lilah squinted as her eyes adjusted, blaming the way her eyes watered on the additional light. Her hands curled into fists, her palms sweating, heart thudding. Every second stretched out into eternity as she waited for him to make his move.

He was squared up with her, his broad body more intimidating with every passing second.  A glance downwards told her that the bullet she’d put in him was about as ineffective as shooting him with an air pellet—he didn’t even appear to be bleeding anymore.

“You are,” he began, his voice low and rasping, “An impossibility.”

Her mouth opened, a moment passed, and then, “I’m a what?”

His jaw tightened, “An. Impossibility.”

She did not have the capacity for philosophical discussions right now. Her body was filled with similar amounts of adrenaline and ire, the force of it keeping her heart beating hard in her chest. She was lucky she even had the capacity to form words, her panic and fear squeezing her throat none too gently.

Lilah looked down at her body, sighing, “I’m alive. I’m real. I’m possible.”

Was this how it was going to go down? Mind games? All of her research told her that he wasn’t that kind of killer. He never played with his food. He simply killed. Quickly. Efficiently. It was this primary detail that had separated him from the others they’d tracked through the desert. Lilah had spent a long time trying to reconcile the horrific stories of his kind with the level headed determination and strategic planning of their leader.

Brasa shook his head, “Not for me.”

Purposefully stretching her jaw open, Lilah felt annoyance spark in a way that she couldn’t quite get a handle on, “Well, get over it. If you’re going to kill me, do it.”

He bared his teeth, a light chuckle escaping as he crossed his arms, leaning against the table, “I’m not going to kill you.”

Lilah refused to admit to herself that her eyes lingered a little too long on the shape of his body beneath the heavy leather.  She’d seen him from afar a couple times, always either through the lens of a monitor, or the top of a building as she directed traffic for the mission. Lilah knew he was big, knew he was strong. Up close, he was far, far more terrifying. Broad in a way that made her think he could take a serious hit and stand, still in a way that told her he was confident she posed no threat. Which, she didn’t. He had said he wasn’t going to kill her. That left...

Torture. It was going to be torture. Possibly, he wanted information about her partners in crime. Seth had prepped her that they sometimes did that, though it was definitely out of character for him. Lilah couldn’t handle that. She was a thief, a procurer of things, a researcher, a team manager. She wasn’t equipped to handle torture. Fuck that, she’d do this her way.

Quick hands had the burner cell in her hand, her thumb on the speed dial, “Okay, do you know what this is?”

His eyes followed her movement, “A cell phone.”

The slow drawl of the words, the lilt at the end. He was amused.  First, pleased. Now, amused. Lilah was neither. God, she hoped Seth had gotten off the roof by now. She wouldn’t be alive to feel guilty about inadvertently killing him.

“Its the detonator for a series of pipe bombs I’ve placed around the foundation of this building. The whole building. I press this button, and everything comes down around us.”

His mouth quirked, “It would take more than that to kill me.”

“But, not me,” Lilah countered. “You won’t get anything out of me if I’m dead.”

Not even bothering to pause for his answer, she dug her thumb into the button, eyes squeezing shut and waiting for the boom. That didn’t happen. She was once again grabbed and bodily moved, air whipping across her face and snatching at her hair. Lilah tried to pull her limbs into her body in a movement borne of instinct, tried to move to protect herself from whatever was happening next. She couldn’t get so much as an inch of leverage.

His arms were in a vice around her, and they were moving at incredible speed through the street outside. She winced as the bombs went off, the sound hitting her in the back as much as it hit her ears. Suddenly, she was dropping down, her weight shifting around and the light completely gone. Around her, she could smell him—coffee and caramel. His scent should not have been in the least bit soothing, but there she was—soothed. His breath was fast, but his muscle showed little to no strain. He moved with more grace than she’d ever seen, full sprint down a dark tunnel carrying her effortlessly.

They came to a stop in...a bunker? Lilah couldn’t get more than a cursory glance around before her brain was reminding her that humans weren’t meant to move that fast. He set her down on a chaise lounge, taking no more than two steps back. Lilah held her head in her hands, trying to ward off the vertigo that was threatening whatever was left of the dinner in her stomach.

“Breathe deeply,” he ordered, sounding just this side of angry, which he had no right to be.

Lilah flipped him the bird. He laughed. She groaned.

“What are you doing?” she said, finally, when her head stopped spinning.

“Saving your life,” he replied, with bite. “Since you’re so ready to give it away.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

She sneered, “I didn’t really have a choice about that, did I?”

“Neither do I,” he replied, adding, “It seems.”

Lilah stared at him, her brain a little slow on the uptake, “Well, I’m so glad we’re in the same boat, then.”

Brasa’s face relaxed enough that he looked a little bewildered.  Lilah counted that as a win. At the very least, she’d bought herself a few more minutes of time by setting him back on his heels just a bit.

“Are you alright?”

The question startled her, true concern lacing his tone. Lilah narrowed her gaze at him, trying to puzzle out what the fuck he meant. Pleased. Amused. Concerned. None of these things matched up with how she knew he was. How she had always been told he was.

He repeated the question, taking a step forward. Lilah leaned back, tilting her chin up as she studied his expression. He looked like he didn’t know quite what do to do with himself. Lilah didn’t know how to take that.

“What do you want from me?”

Better to get to the point. The faster she knew what he wanted, the faster she could agree (lie) and try to get him to let her go in the process.  

He blinked, “What do you know of Xibalban mating practices?”

She sputtered, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Brasa rolled his eyes, “Obviously nothing.”

Think, Lilah. Stall him.

“Well, its not nothing if you’re going to drag me into wherever this is to talk to me about it.”

His eyes dropped to the floor, his tongue rolling across his lips as he considered what she’d said. Lilah had to turn her head to keep from following the motion, her cheeks warming—which made no sense.

Brasa’s eyes returned to hers and she noticed that his irises seemed to contract, the pupils shrinking down so that she could see his actual eye color—a deep brown. Lilah took a deep breath, desperately trying to think of something to say to keep him from killing her long enough for Seth, or Richie to find her.

“You are special,” he stated, as a matter of fact.

Everyone she knew was special. Seth and Richie were special, Kate was special, the bar staff were technically special (and immortal). Lilah was a fixer. Lilah was a good problem solver. Lilah was not special.

“Bullshit,” she replied, unable to keep her mouth from firing off the first thing that went through her head.

He laughed, his chin lifting, head rocking back. Genuine amusement, “That is an appropriate response, I suppose. It is exceedingly rare for a Xibalban to bond with a human.”

Lilah drew back, “Who’s bonding? We’re not bonding? We are miles—leagues—away from bonding.”

Head cocking to the side, Brasa eyes her with curiosity, “I wonder if you know how wrong you are—deep down, of course.”

Feeling suddenly tired, Lilah rubbed at her eyes, feeling desperate in a way that came from long term exhaustion, “Just kill me. Just...kill me. I don’t want any part of your games.”

His face grew still and grave, “No games. You are my bondmate. It is best that you come to terms with that as soon as possible.”

Bondmate.

Lilah had heard this term a few times, usually when talking with Kate. She described it as something akin to a soulmate, a relationship that was deeper than love, bordering on obsession—especially for...Lilah drew in another breath.

“That can’t be true.”

He shrugged, an elegant motion, “It is. Not believing in it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Try as she might, Lilah could not detect an ounce of deceit in him, and she was pretty good at that. Her mouth tightened as she attempted to think of a way out and coming up short.  She’d have to play his game, if she wanted to live.

“And,” she said carefully, “What are you going to do about that?”

He considered it for a moment, “You’ll have to come with me.”

Out of the question.

“Come with you,” Lilah repeated lowly. Then, “I can’t do that.”

Brows lifting, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because I have a life,” she shot back, frustrated. “Because I have a job, and obligations, and people who depend on me.”

She was exaggerating just the tiniest bit.  She didn’t have a life, not really.  But, she did have a job, obligations, and people (three people, really).

He shifted his weight, “I know the feeling. Intimately.”

There were a few moments of silence. Each of them looking at the other, drawing conclusions. Lilah could see strain in his posture, leashed ferocity in the utter stillness of his body.  He wanted to move. He wanted to do something.  He wasn’t, for some reason. He was standing a few feet away from her, just waiting.

“Let’s say,” Lilah offered, thinking she might be able to negotiate, “That I accept that I am your bondmate. Is there a way for me to go back to my people, and still—I don’t know—act...as… a bondmate?”

She hated how timid she sounded, how unsure. But, she thought the question legitimate enough that he might consider it, might give in.  If this was true—and that was a big ‘if’--there was no way he was going to be able to hurt her. He couldn’t. It was impossible that he could kill her.  Kate had said so.

When he didn’t answer, Lilah gestured to the room around them, “Where are we?”

He moved, she flinched. He stilled.

“Its an old hideout. Unused for maybe half a century, possibly forgotten.”

She nodded, “Okay. And you know about it because…?”

One side of his mouth lifted, “I built it, a long time ago.”

Lilah nodded again, looking at the walls, the masonry cut so tightly together that it couldn’t have been mechanical.  This place was old. Very old. Old as balls.

“Its good work,” she murmured, her hands curling on the lounge beneath her.

The cushion was still intact, but the fabric was beginning to fray. It was at least fifty, possibly sixty years old. The wood looked hand carved. There were a few boxes scattered around, but the room was mostly empty.

Brasa dipped his head in acknowledgment of her compliment, “There is a way that I could send you back.”

Lilah perked up, “I’m listening.”

He took a step forward, “I would need to know that you are safe at all times. I can’t be distracted by how human you are, how fragile.”

Lulled by the idea that she might come out of this unscathed, Lilah motioned for him to continue. He licked his lips, hesitating only a moment.

“I would need to initiate the bond.”

She felt her mouth purse, felt her shoulders tighten up, “How would you do that?”

He knelt in front of her, a simple and smooth motion, “A simple blood exchange. Yours for mine.”

There was nothing simple about a blood exchange. It was never, ever simple.  She had to tread lightly.

Heart picking up, she whispered, “You want to bite me?”

Brasa shook his head, producing a blade from somewhere on his person, “I wouldn’t need to. A little cut would be all it would take, to start the process.”

She swallowed, “And, you’ll let me go.”

A small, fervent hope built inside her that she might be able to gain some traction.  Blood exchanges may not be a little thing, but Lilah might be able to manage it. All told, a little bloodletting was a very small price to pay—if he happened to be right and they did initiate the bond, she would have to figure out a way to deal with that, eventually. Bloodletting. Wiggle room. Escape.

He nodded, his expression so sincere that she had no choice but to believe him.

Before she could change her mind, Lilah held out her arm to him, “Go ahead.”

For half a second, he looked surprised, but he quickly grasped her forearm, pushing back the sleeve of her shirt and pressing the blade into her skin. It was sharp enough that it took a second or two for the pain to kick in. She hissed as he brought her arm to his mouth, sucking gently at the wound. It was an odd feeling. Her body was telling her ‘danger’, but her brain was telling her to hold still, lest he sink his teeth into her.

He was warm—hot, even. His whole body radiated heat that burned even through the gloves on his hands. Lilah sucked in a breath as he ran his tongue over the cut, a spark of pleasure rising along the little prick of pain. Abashed, she looked anywhere but where his mouth was pressed intimately to her skin.

Very carefully, his tongue swiped once more over the little cut, his palm coming up to apply pressure. Lilah bit her lip, taken aback by the bliss on his face. At this distance, she could see the way his skin glowed a little in the low light, could see his eyelashes sweeping against his cheek as he blinked dreamily at her.

Seeming to catch himself, Brasa quickly shrugged an arm out of his coat and rolled up his shirtsleeve, slicing into himself like it was nothing. Lilah hesitated, her mouth open, her breaths coming in hard.

“Only a mouthful,” he prompted, “That’s all it will take.”

Leaning down, Lilah pressed her mouth to the bleeding skin, her body resisting the urge to draw it in and swallow.  Eyes closing, she forced herself to work against her own instinct, applying a little suction and pulling him across her tongue.  Only a mouthful. That’s all she allowed, jerking away and making herself push it down her throat.

She wished she hadn’t done that.  Lilah wished for all the world that he’d just snapped her neck in this dingy little room underneath the street. The sweetness of him, the utter honey still coating the inside of her mouth, was enough to make her want to die right there.  She definitely never wanted to do that again just as much as she desperately needed more. Her tongue touched that back of her teeth, licking at the remnants so that she could taste him just a moment longer.

He swallowed audibly, “What’s your name?”

“Lilah,” she answered, brain too foggy to lie.

“I am Brasa,” he offered lowly.

She blinked, “I know.”

Brasa watched her for a few moments before standing, offering her his hand.  Lilah ignored it, rising to her feet and moving around him.

“You said I could go.”

He stared at her, “I did say that.”  And then, “I’ll take you to the surface.”

[thorne93]

History Repeats (Part 9)

Prompt: Life’s hard, right? Well throw in a not so great job, a broken heart, and chasing a pipe dream in LA. But could someone come along to make all the bad shit disappear? Or is he just another heartbreak waiting around the bend?

Warnings: language, drug addiction, alcohol addiction, angst/heartbreak, adult themes (??)

Word Count: 2711

Note: Aesthetic made by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo because she’s absolutely amazing Beta’d by @like-a-bag-of-potatoes and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo . Brainstorming from @carryonmyswansong

**Song Inspiration: Delicate by Taylor Swift

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A package arrived and you nearly screamed from joy. You unwrapped it immediately and grinned ear to ear. You’d had an idea some time ago, but had only gotten around to it recently. But now, you could put your plan in motion. Hayden would be home in probably forty-five minutes so you began to set out candy, cokes, and got the popcorn ready to pop with melted butter and salt on the side. 

Hayden walked in, looking beat and you felt bad for him, but seeing him was always the highlight of your day, even if he didn’t feel the same. Again, you were plagued with the question, how and when did Hayden go from he friendly face you enjoyed seeing, your savior of the day to the man you could hardly stand being away from? At this point, you didn’t care, you were just happy he was here, with you, whether he  felt the same or not.

“Hey! How was work?”

“Exhausting...I think I’m just gonna hit the hay,” he said, walking in.

“Wait! I have something for you!” you said, running over and grabbing his hand and pulling him on the couch.

He plopped on the couch, his head resting on the back with his eyes closed. “Ugh. Y/N, I’m tired. Can it wait till tomorrow?”

“Well...technically, it can, but I can’t! I have a surprise for you!”

“A surprise? What is it?” 

You grinned and pulled up a basket, the first DVD on top.

“Open your eyes,” you instructed. 

He propped one eye open to look at you, and when he saw you were holding something, he opened both and sat up. He looked at the object on top, picking it up. 

“In the mouth of Madness…” he said curiously as he flipped it over in his hand, then looked at the next one sitting on top of the pile. “Street Law? Y/N, why do you have old movies I played in?”

“Because we are going to have a marathon of your movies!” you exclaimed, giddy.

“What? Why?”

“Well...because I’ve never seen a lot of these. I’ve seen you in like two things, and I don’t think that’s right. I want to fully understand my roommate,” you explained with a beaming smile.

“We...You really don’t have to do that,” he insisted, getting shy as he leaned forward and started looking at the movies. “Wow. You really got all of them…” he mused, almost under his breath. “But I’m barely even in In the Mouth of Madness,” he remarked. 

“So? Your face is in it, so we’re watching it.”

“And why am I being subjected to this?” he asked as he fell back on the sofa and propped up his feet. 

“Because,” you started as you hopped up to pop the popcorn, “I need you here to make fun of you when you stay cheesy shit in these movies.”

“And how do you know I say cheesy shit?” he retorted, spinning to face you, resting his chin on the couch, looking more than adorable. 

You shrugged. “Doesn’t every actor, somewhere, have a few skeletons in their closet? I’m sure out of all of these films, at some point, you said something totally stupid, and it’s my duty as your best friend to make sure you don’t live it down,” you teased as you stuck your tongue out at him. 

Grabbing the popcorn, butter, and salt, you headed back to the couch and plopped down beside him, starting the first movie that was already queued up. 

The two of you settled in for a long marathon, and you got through several films, until you reached Life as a House, which totally blew you away. The opening scene of Hayden made you audibly gasp.

“Oh, my god, that’s you!” you shouted as you pointed at the TV. 

“Yeah, that’s kinda the point, Y/N,” he joked before you slapped his shoulder, causing him to laugh.

“No, you jerk. Like...That’s you! You look so…”

“Young?”

“I was going to say different. You don’t look much older than now. Oh my god, you’re such a brat!” you commented as you watched the film. Usually you tried to keep quiet during movies, but this was just too good and too easy to mess with him. 

“Uh, no, he’s a brat. I’m not,” he corrected, pointing to the screen and glaring at you.

“Well you play the part pretty well,” you joked with a sideways look.

“That just means I’m an excellent actor and I take no shame in that.”

“No one said you should.” At this, you stuck your tongue out at him. “I am loving the outfit,” you mocked.

“Oh, just shush and watch the damn thing,” he commanded, gesturing to the movie.

You giggled and quieted down to watch the film, trying to ignore the fact that you did really like him in this role. It was the first time so far he looked...of age. He had a goth look to him and at one time, you’d really been into goth yourself. He didn’t look half bad with black hair, but his blonde fit him so much better. 

The movie progressed nicely. You really did think he was acting very well, seeing as Hayden could never act half as bratty and annoying as his character, he made it believable. But then...at a particular scene, he was in a shower and your hormones started to stir in ways you wish they didn’t. If you’d been watching this alone, it would be one thing, but actually sitting next to the guy who was getting you hot and bothered, being your best friend, made it feel insanely awkward for you. 

It didn’t help then, that later, in the same shower, his female co star kissed him and he orgasmed prematurely. Regardless of the fact that it wasn’t real, that the character was facing embarrassment...you were highly aroused. The sounds he had made, the expression he wore, it was all dangerous mix of an aphrodisiac for you. Because like it or not, real or fake, Hayden had just made orgasmic sounds, and you hadn’t realized until that moment how badly you wanted to hear the real thing. 

Chancing a glance at him, he was sitting with his right arm resting on the couch, propping his face up with his cheek resting against his fist. He looked so...calm, and observant. 

“Are you okay?” you suddenly asked.

He turned to you, breaking out of his trance. “Huh? Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

“Well, I just realized, I never asked you if it was okay to watch all of these or if you’re comfortable with it or whatever. I just sort of made you do it,” you noted meekly.

“Y/N, it’s fine. It’s kinda fun reliving these films.”

“Good. If it gets weird or awkward or anything, let me know,” you assured.

“You mean because I just came on screen with you watching? No, not awkward at all…” he said evenly before shooting you a half smile and turning his attention back to the screen.

After the film was through, and you were done crying, you picked up your glass and went back to the kitchen for a refill when your hand accidentally knocked into the counter, smashing the glass in your hand to pieces. The bottom part of the glass broke off onto the floor, the top piece in your hand had entirely shattered, shards and pieces flying everywhere. When you looked down, your feet had tiny bloody streaks everywhere, and your hand had shards of small pieces of glass in them.

“Y/N?” Hayden said as he turned around at the noise. “You okay?” 

“Uh, yeah, a glass broke. I’m fine though.”

“Oh, shit. It's everywhere,” he said as he jumped up and came over. He picked up the big pieces and put them on the counter. “Oh my god. Your hand,” he noted as he looked at it. “Don’t move, you could get cut worse,” he instructed as he looked around at all the tiny shards. Without warning, he suddenly grabbed you bridal style. 

“Hayden!” you shrieked, scared of him dropping you, your arms flying. 

“Y/N, stop. I’m just carrying you over here so you don’t step on the glass,” he said as he got you on the sofa. “Don’t let your feet touch the ground. You don’t want to get glass stuck in there. I’m gonna clean that up and I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I can clean up a simple glass breaking,” you argued as you started to get up before Hayden pointed at you and gave you a warning look.

“Don’t. It’ll take like two seconds. Just sit.”

He ran to the closet and got the broom and worked on sweeping nearly all of the kitchen then came over to you, examining your cuts on your legs, feet, and hands. He was still in jeans and boots, so he had been safe from the glass, but you were in a shirt and pajama shorts, barefoot, leaving you open to all the glass.

His fingers traced over your feet, lightly touching up your leg, the sensation much stronger than you anticipated. You and Hayden touched all the time, grabbing his hand to pull him somewhere, hugging every now and again, hitting him playfully...But now, he was tenderly, gently, touching you, and shortly after that orgasm scene in your head, so your body wasn’t responding in the typical sense, sending a blush to your cheeks. 

“They look okay, nothing too deep, just need to be cleaned up. Where’s your kit?”

“I’ve got peroxide and cotton balls and all that in my bathroom, the bottom drawer on the right,” you informed, thrusting your chin towards your room. 

“I'll be right back.”

“Hayden--”

“Shut up,” he said without looking at you as he walked away. 

When he returned, he set to cleaning you with a wet washcloth, wiping the little streaks of blood everywhere, then used peroxide on all the spots that came back up, patiently, gingerly tending to your minor cuts, his attention seemed hyper focused on the task at hand. Meanwhile, your eyes were planted on him, watching him, drinking him in, etching the lines of his face, his fingers, his jawline, his neck all to your memory. 

Once your eyes hit his fingers, your thoughts went to places they shouldn’t explore, places that shouldn’t be explored. But, you couldn’t help it. Hayden was beyond any man you’d ever met. He was...everything you’d ever wanted from a man and more. He was a father, a caring, loving one. He was a best friend, loyal, patient, willing to listen to you vent and bitch and whine and complain on end. He was a hard worker, never complaining of long and hard days, not much. He was talented and funny and understanding. He was kind and thoughtful. 

You wanted to know everything about him. You wanted to share nights with him as well as days. You wanted to know what it feels like to greet him when it got home with a kiss, instead of a friendly wave. You wanted to know what it was like to wake up next to him. You wanted to know what his scruff felt like before he’d shaved in the morning. You wanted to know what it was like to call him in between shots and tell him how you loved him, how you wanted to see him.

Sometimes, you wanted to just pretend, even for a second, that he was yours. That when you were sitting together on the couch and his arm was around you, that it wasn’t a relaxed friendly gesture. Sometimes you wanted to pretend that when he walked in the door, he didn’t go to separate bedroom, that he joined you in yours...

You wanted to know if he felt the same. You wanted to know if you danced in his dreams too. If you plagued him at work. If you were an ever present force in his life as well. You wanted to know if he looked forward to seeing you. You wanted to know if he desired touching your skin, all over.

Did he want any of that?

Suddenly, he was done treating your feet and legs and he looked up at you, his eyes filled with so much wonder and mystery, you were captivated by them as he gave you a soft grin. 

“Can I see your hands?” he asked and you silently obliged, turning them palm up so he could start the same routine. The entire time, you stayed mesmerized by him, watching him, just in awe that you’d met someone like this.

And that’s when it hit you. You didn’t want to wait another day to see if he felt the same. It’d been nearly four months since you met. And for some time now, you’d felt some pretty deep feelings for this man, and every day it was getting harder and harder to ignore those feelings.

“There, all fixed up,” Hayden said with a wide grin as he sat the cotton ball on the coffee table. 

“Thanks...Would….would you wanna go out to dinner?”

He frowned slightly. “Tonight? But it’s after midnight,” he commented. “If you’re hungry I’m sure we could find something--”

You shook your head, slightly laughing of embarrassment and nerves, no trace of real humor in the chuckle. “Uh, no, not tonight. Like, I don’t know, Saturday or something?”

“Uh, maybe, why, what's up?” he inquired as he continued to clean up the supplies he’d brought out.

“Uh...I...No reason,” you said, shaking your head, the same nervous laugh escaping as you sat back on the couch. “What’s next? Star Wars I think. Awesome. I haven’t seen this since it came out and I’ve completely spaced it since then…”

Hayden noticed you rambling, your cheeks heating, your hands shaking and it suddenly clicked in his mind.

“Y/N, why did you want to go to dinner?” he softly demanded as he took the dvd case from you and sat it down, situating himself on the edge of couch so you could look at him. 

Taking a deep breath, you weighed your options of answering. On one hand, you could save face and save the friendship if you just told him to forget it. On the other hand, you knew that if you denied your feelings, you would always wonder if it was a missed chance at a great opportunity.

“I...uh….I was asking you on a date. I just wanted to see if you wanted to go for dinner and drinks or...whatever…” you explained, your eyes on your lap as you toyed with the hem of your shirt. 

Hayden’s eyes cast down as well as he mulled over how to answer, and the fact that he had to think about it was answer enough.

“It’s fine, I get it. You’re not interested. No big deal. I swear,” you promised. “We can still be friends and all that.” 

Inside, you were twisting. You’d made a fool of yourself. Now he knew that you had feelings for him and he didn’t return them. Would he feel awkward around you now?

“Y/N...I...I just...I’m still getting over things with Rachel,” he explained. “I just...I’m not sure I’m ready.”

You nodded. “No, yeah, I get that. It’s...delicate. It’s too soon. I understand. I’m sorry I brought it up,” you said, trying desperately to sound normal. A stiff silence hung between you two before you finally piped up and said, “Star Wars next?”

“Uh, I should be getting to bed. We’ll finish tomorrow, yeah?” he asked, his brows going up, hoping you weren’t offended, probably. 

You nodded. “Sure. Yeah. No problem.”

Standing, you smiled a goodnight smile at him, and he returned it. “Well, goodnight. See you in the morning,” you quietly said as he returned a salutation and you went to your room, closed the door, and got into bed. Before you knew it, hot tears were streaking down your face, staining your pillow. Quickly, you turned on music so he couldn’t hear your heartbroken sobs.

~~~~~~~~~~

Forever Tag:

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Hayden Christensen:

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History Repeats:

@multifandomblog315​

[indyerstraits]

Task 01. CHILDHOOD ➤ Jamie Dyer

Praise the innocence of childhood soon forgotten

PARENTS

Jamie’s family has always been chaotic with his parents rotating in and out of the house but there were some good times among all the bad. Whenever Margie returned, her and Jonathan united again like no time had passed at all, continuing their reckless partying together and playing house with the kids. Although temporary, the house was filled with the kind of love that would get any kid excited, even Jamie. Margie would buy all the kids things with money she didn’t have and Jonathan, while drunk, managed to stay in the house for movie nights.

As townsfolk, Margie’s as elusive in Gravewood as she is in the Dyer house. Rumors of her working the truckers at the truck stop for rides out of town circulated sometime when Jamie was young and later, her disappearances would be explained by a pregnancy she would claim was John’s. Margie comes from a blue-collar working family who had a brief peak in success when her brother started working the mines that fueled Gravewood’s growth. Margie herself was a former beauty queen as a teen, but got pregnant and dropped out.

Jonathan is a staple of Gravewood’s community in the sense that every community needs a belligerent drunkard. Older parents might recognize him from the old Dyer family of Gravewood, an upper-middle class bunch of folks who were more or less well-off. With only one son to carry the family name and fortune, it’s safe to say that the family is as good as dead.

Neither parents appear to be employed.

Jamie’s relationship with his parents is strained at best in recent days, but he wasn’t always so pessimistic. As a kid, Jamie still believed that things would fall back into place whenever Margie came home and looked forward to it because it was all he’d ever known. His relationship with John has always been one of a parent to his unruly father but he was more willing to play his part then. Felt good about it, even, for being such a mature and responsible kid.

FRIENDS & SIBLINGS

When it came to friends, Jamie was always eager to have them even if he wasn’t the best at making them. He talked a lot to anyone who would listen to him, regaling stories and factoids about the latest thing he read like he was making a sales pitch. There was always a Dyer boy who would be picked before him, being the youngest of the eldest Dyer kids (by 25 minutes), but Middle Child Syndrome was a hot potato passed between him and his twin, Johnnie.

He made friends with Alec and Charlie in Cub Scouts for a brief period of time and later met Elle through Charlie too. While he wasn’t absurdly outgoing as a kid, it was the most energetic he’d ever been and was always game to do whatever it was the other kids were doing (once, at least, before he decided it was a horrible idea and would tell them so in many many words). He was the first to suggest exploring and wandering aimlessly around the ‘uncharted woods’, keen on checking out the old fairgrounds and trying to get up to the top carts (to no success, because even as a kid, Jamie was famously unathletic).

The Gallery of Uncommon was his favourite place to be, next to Second Chance bookstore.

This moment in childhood was a good one for Jamie, even if he’s always felt like the odd kid out of the bunch.

APPEARANCE

Puberty hit Jamie late. He was scrawny and unassuming until he sprouted like a bean pole late into high school. He’s always been baby-faced with fluffy hair and too-big teeth. As a child, he wore a funny little cat hat in order to be separated from his twin brother but later abandoned it when they developed more distinct personalities.

Jamie and Johnnie shared the same flannels and shorts for most of their childhood until things started mattering in high school. Jamie kept the flannels and Johnnie moved onto floral shirts and exposing as much skin as possible.

FAVOURITES

Jamie loved to read. There wasn’t anything that didn’t pique his curiosity. From cereal boxes to National Geographic, he was always found with his nose in a book when he wasn’t talking about it. His favourite novels were horror mysteries like Goosebumps and Alvin Schwartz novels. Later on, he started getting into Stephen King, Dean Koontz and Clive Barker. 

Jamie’s infatuation with cinema stemmed from his movie nights with his family. The lack of supervision allowed him to watch scary movies at a young age and although they were terrifying, they allowed him to be afraid of something within his control. After all, Pinhead only existed as long as the TV was still on. His favourite movie from childhood to present is Pan’s Labyrinth. 

His favourite food as a kid was Mom’s chicken and dumplings. He’s tried to replicate this as an adult, but hasn’t been able to replicate the same nostalgia. 

PERSONALITY

Jamie was a weird kid in many senses. Not only did he mature faster than other kids, but he was also very smart. He was always found talking back and making keen observations which would later give birth to his sharp wit and inability to keep his mouth shut. Jamie’s proclivity for curiosity has dwindled only a little as he learned more about the things that scared him. 

Due to his unreliable parents, Jamie started looking at danger like inconveniences and is often overruled by a need to fix/overcome them over running away. Ultimately, this resulted in his petulance in adulthood. The things that truly terrified Jamie were always things no longer in his control. His need for it was prevalent in childhood in the way he took over most conversations and plans when making them. To most, he was fiercely independent. To the observant, he was a very scared little kid.

With his intelligence also came a vast and colourful imagination that would fill his head with thoughts and ideas that he made known to just about anyone whether they asked or not. He gave life to monsters and demons, ghosts and spooky haunts with passion and an air of melodrama.

His infatuation with the creepy and unusual stemmed from a need for stability and he latched onto cryptids and ghosts because they were always there when he needed them. 

[lambourngb]

I can’t even find the post where it says you are doing he wip meme, but because you are answering some, because I have a headache and need to be cheered up and because names do count as words 😇 - ”Joe”

Sneaky! Aww I hope the headache gets better and this cheers you up :

Michael was busy shoving the hot greasy mix of potato hash and eggs into his mouth when he heard the normal sounds of conversation drop into a hush as the front door to the bunk house swung open. Paul Foster stepped inside and immediately headed toward Michael, causing a flare of alarm until he realized that Joe had claimed the seat next to him. That set off a different type of signal in Michael.

The memory of misinterpreting things between them still cut sharply into his chest when he thought about it too long. It was too close to the ache he held for Alex.

“Hey Joe, got a new task for you,” the young foreman greeted. Michael could tell by the tone, that whatever the task was, it was sure to be unpleasant if it was getting shifted to them. The grandson still had soft hands and very few callouses despite the nature of the work he claimed to do. “We had a small plane fly over the other day. They said they thought they saw some strays of ours up on the other side of the canyon. That’s too close to the reservation. Do you think you could ride up there and check it out?”

“Sure thing boss,” Joe agreed, amenable and light. “You think you can keep the boys busy for a day or two? It’ll be kinda rough to ride up there and back in one day without making camp for the night.” Then, aware that Michael’s fork had started to slow as he listened in to the conversation between them, Joe added, “Guerin and I can take care of it no problem.”

“What did the kid do wrong that you’re making him camp out rough with you? Nevermind, I don’t want to know.” Paul asked jokingly as he got to his feet. “All right, I’ll keep the rest of them busy checking fence lines and moving hay.” He waved, the rest of the men groaning at the task. Walking the miles of fence line in the sun was tedious but a needed chore.

Michael wiped his mouth, his plate finally clean and turned to meet Joe’s watchful dark eyes. He couldn’t help but feel suspicious at the sudden inclusion after the last week of careful professionalism between them. It felt like a trap, that Joe was looking to spend this time away from everyone in order to reinforce just how normal their working relationship was. He could take a pass on that, even if it meant missing out on a chance to explore the crash site more fully. “I used to sleep in back of my truck, so if this is supposed to be some kind of punishment-”

“Oh it is, but who says it’s for you?” Joe smirked, inviting Michael to share in the joke with him even as he confused Michael thoroughly. He pushed himself upright, taking his plate and Michael’s empty one, “Nah, it’s actually supposed to be a treat for you. You think I don’t know that you sleep outside sometimes under the stars? And that you’ve been walking the back pastures at night? Figured this was something you wanted.”

It was something that Michael wanted, just not everything, but he should be used to that by now.

Michael closed his mouth belatedly, both nettled and warmed by how closely Joe had been observing him. He had a lot of wants, he was used to shuffling through them like cards he could never play, but lure of the night sky and what fell from it in 1947 was only one of them.

[fleckcmscott]

Bewitching Hour

Summary: October has been a blissfully busy month. With Halloween around the corner, Arthur and Y/N have some planning to do.

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 4,665

A/N: Special thanks to @hhandley80​ for this request! You've been so supportive and sweet. I truly appreciate you and hope you enjoy it!

On a side note, my oneshots will be more sporadic. I'm still writing but life has been life. Also, I've finished the first draft of another multi-chapter featuring Arthur and Y/N. It's going to take time to rewrite the subsequent drafts and edit, edit, edit. The chapters will go up once the story is ready. Thanks for your patience and support! 🙂 I heart you all!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask! 

Arthur's suggestion that they make plans to celebrate Halloween should not have been a surprise. He loved starting traditions with Y/N, and she prized adopting them with him. "It's been awhile," he'd said as they'd walked arm-in-arm to the laundromat. "I think it'd be nice."

Holidays had been a source of merriment most of her life. The beauty of red and green decorations at Christmas. Turkey and mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving. An egg hunt and chocolate rabbit at Easter. The togetherness of family during them all.

Halloween, though, wasn't a favorite.

As a child, she'd had fun trick-or-treating, riding her bike from house to far-flung house. And she hadn't minded escorting her little sister as a teenager. Y/N's homemade witch costume had been passed down. She could still recall the sleekness of the ribbon between her fingers as she'd secured the pointed hat under Mabel's chin.

But the magic had fallen away. When married to Jeff, she'd had to attend his boss's annual party. After receiving an apologetic shrug and kiss, she'd be relegated to hanging out with the other wives. They'd included her in their recipe swaps, in their exchanges of mild gossip. Her natural friendliness made chit-chat easy, far easier than having a good time. Those evenings had been spent nursing a glass of wine and willing the clock to go faster.

During the period she'd cared for her father, she'd tried to hand out candy. She liked being a good neighbor and imparting kindness in the form of bite-sized sweets. As his health had declined, the porch light had gone dark. Random rings of the doorbell would result in shouting and swearing. Repeated attempts to explain the door's lock wasn't broken. Festivity would transform into drudgery. It hadn't been worth the trouble. Instead, she'd watched terrible TV specials while her thoughts wandered to a future far from Boonville. A future she'd doubted would ever be.

"I don't know if it's your thing," Arthur had continued, bringing her back to the present. "But you might enjoy it with me." The response he longed for was evident in the worrying of his pocket, outlines of his knuckles visible through the tan cloth.

Everything they'd experienced together had soothed the sting of those wasted years. The hesitancy lurking in her was silly. Unwelcome. Less than either of them deserved. She'd met his keen eyes and half-smile. The sudden mental image of him dressed as a cowboy or pirate, eyepatch and all, prompted a laugh. Convinced her as she dug out her dry-cleaning stub. "It isn't my thing," she'd said. "But you are."

Relief had relaxed his wrinkles, save for his crows feet, which had deepened as he'd returned her happy expression. A slender arm wrapped around her waist, drew her against his solid frame. Once the clerk disappeared through the swinging doors to retrieve their clothes, Arthur grasped her chin and kissed her. The tender explorations were soon sloppy, and she'd giggled, his enthusiasm becoming her own. Their noses had met, his lashes resting on his wide cheekbones. "I think you're the sweetest treat, Mrs. Fleck."

Currently, Donahue's Department Store, Gotham's number one retail emporium (if the ads were to be believed), was bustling with last-minute shoppers. Weary mothers escorted their babbling children through the aisles. Clerks swapped out displays for the changing blue light specials. Lines went for yards. Patricia and Y/N sought refuge at a corner table in the café on the top floor. The warm glow from the pendant lamps provided a relaxed ambience, one that matched the hot cider and pumpkin spice cake they were savoring.

"I've got my grandson on Sunday," Patricia said between bites. "My daughter's going to a party with a medical records tech from Gotham General. Met him when she missed the bus. They split a cab and hit it off." Chuckling, she lifted her mug. "Speaking of, how's married life been so far?"

Memories of the past week quickened Y/N's heart, until she thought it might stop. How Arthur had gripped her replacement Social Security card, just to read her new name. The way he'd grab her for a twirl whenever they were in the kitchen. The reverence in his gaze when they'd lay together after sex, a look that both thrilled and made her blush. "The bills for his medication and appointments will no longer make us cringe," she deadpanned. She lowered her fork. "When we met, I was kind of blindsided - I'm not the type to fall in love quickly." The corners of her lips tugged up. "Being married to Arthur feels like a habit. A habit I should have learned twenty years ago."

"I'm glad you found each other." Patricia reached across the light brown table and covered Y/N's hand, gave it a squeeze. Then she wiped frosting from her mouth and nodded in the direction of the escalator. "Now let's find a costume that'll drive him nuts."

Beyond the colorful cosmetics and pungent perfume counters, they sorted through racks of vinyl smocks and plastic masks. Pop culture icons and princesses. Vampires and spooks. Knockoffs of classic movie monsters. Most were poorly made and decidedly uninteresting. Y/N pawed through accessories in a nearby basket, a cigar here, a patched hat there. "How about a hobo? I could steal Arthur's tie."

"This was his idea. Give him something a little exciting." After a roll of Y/N's eyes, Patricia held out a plastic display bag. "Found it."

The white font on its blue label declared she should "Create a unique look!" A woman in a leopard-print leotard and bow-tie wore black cat ears and a tail, the only two items included in the set. Y/N's nose wrinkled. "I don't think so, Patricia." She rummaged through another bin and examined a hockey mask. "I don't show a lot of skin."

"You show Arthur." Patricia ignored Y/N's glare, continuing to shove it at her. "Every man loves a woman dressed as a cat. Our next lunch is on me if I'm wrong."

Patricia could be relentless, but Y/N had to admit she was usually right. She arched a brow as she eyed the costume. Maybe she could find a solid body suit instead of animal print. The kit was only $2.98. And her friend had made it a challenge. "You're on. But I'm not wearing a bow-tie." She crossed her arms across her chest and tapped her mouth. "Your turn. Would Robert like you as a French maid or a go-go dancer?"

~~~~~

It was a busy season for performers. Arthur remembered HaHa's talent agency being booked solid for October by the end of August. Myriad functions at nursing homes, parties, and children's organizations took place throughout the city. Amusement Mile had a series of special events, allowing Arthur to work extra hours before the slowness of winter dragged in. Once the holiday was over, he'd buy make-up and props on clearance.

He'd always assumed he would like Halloween - if he'd had the chance to celebrate it properly. It was about connection, something he'd never managed. The customs gave him a pretense, a template to meet people, rather than leaving him wondering how to go about it. Provided a hiding place for his seeming inability to act normal.

Recollections of the day were few but vivid. When he'd been around eight, there'd been a party at school. The teacher had made brownies and given the students a half-hour respite from lessons. (A welcome relief, since he wasn't very good at most of them.) But he hadn't had a costume. Hadn't known how to reply when the other kids asked where it was. Not wanting to be left out, he'd pocketed a watercolor pallet and sneaked to the bathroom.

The teacher (he wished he could remember her name) had walked in as he'd smeared green and blue on his face, a pathetic attempt at a turtle. Fear of punishment had caused his laughter. But her kindness as she knelt, wiped away tears and pigment with a scratchy, brown paper towel, had calmed him. "Wait here," she'd instructed. It had taken all his courage not to run home.

After some minutes, she'd returned, an old white sheet in one hand, black marker and pair of scissors in the other. "The nurse won't miss this." She'd traced eyeholes, helped him cut them out. She'd asked questions. About his mother and what it was like at home. Questions he was at a loss for how to answer. Finally, she'd draped the cloth over his head. "There," she'd declared. "Gotham Elementary has its own ghost."

Even as he'd gotten taller and the sheet no longer went beyond his knees, that costume had remained his go-to. He'd venture out to the rest of his building, knocking on paint-chipped doors and pushing broken buzzers. Having learned to stay away from doors that yelling or funny smells emanated from, he hadn't gotten a lot of candy. What he had collected he'd shared with Penny. The wax lips became a free toy. He wasn't sure his memory of startling his mother and being tickled until he couldn't breathe was real or imagined.

At twelve, he was told he was too old to go trick-or-treating. He'd starting scrounging for change to buy hard candies at Helm's Pharmacy. They weren't particularly appetizing, but they'd been what he could afford. Only a few kids rang, a number that dwindled further every year. Most neighbors kept their distance, likely aware he was troubled. Cinnamon discs and butterscotch drops had loitered around the apartment for months. He'd sucked on them in an attempt to cut down on his smoking, just to save money. It hadn't worked.

Y/N hadn't spoken about the holiday, not the way she had other special occasions. At first, he'd thought it had slipped her mind. Work, planning their honeymoon, completing the red tape required to meld all aspects of their lives had taken up much of their time. But, given her reluctance to talk in detail about her past heartache, he'd come to assume her Halloweens had been unpleasant. He was certain he could change that.

Sitting on the dingy, dark green plastic seat of the train car, he giggled to himself, chest puffing up as he straightened. They'd been man and wife for eight whole days. Movies and songs said love was supposed to be somewhere between serendipitous and fated. A happy accident that was meant to be. Lying awake at night, he would find himself wondering where they were on that scale. If the emotions swirling through him - the excitement of belonging, the fear of fucking up - were what every newlywed felt. Then Y/N would snuggle closer in her sleep, murmur nonsense into his skin, and for a few minutes he'd be at peace.

Years had been spent trying to figure out who he was. Trying to find an identity, his role within the world. While he was still searching, it had been far easier to become accustomed to the role of "husband" than he'd dreamed.

Teaching his wife about events across the city had been a delight. Gotham Village's Annual Costume Extravaganza was a parade that went all the way to Gotham Square. He'd participated a couple of times, never formally registering but slipping into the clown section. It had been exhilarating. Had allowed him to pretend, for a little while, that he was being seen. That the crowds lining the sidewalks were cheering for him. Signs for extravagant balls were plastered on billboards and lampposts throughout the streets; he'd have gladly attended and shown her off. A haunted house was being held in a building in his old neighborhood, a fundraiser for the orphanage. He hadn't brought that up.

In the end, once he'd explained trick-or-treaters went from apartment to apartment, they'd decided on a cozy evening at home. The details had been left to her. Whatever she'd plan, he'd love it. He wondered what she'd disguise herself as. Would she be a sexy devil or nurse, like he'd seen on a sit-com? The notion sparked a fire in his cheeks.

Given how busy he'd be, he'd stay dressed as plain, old Carnival. Part of him regretted accepting two gigs, especially on a Sunday. He would have preferred her company. But he wanted to put the money towards the wedding band he'd put on layaway. (Even though they had one account, he wasn't going to let her chip in for it.) He should already be wearing it for all of Gotham to see.

The lurch of the subway prompted him to rise and grasp the pole grip. His stance widened as it came to a halt, knees bending with the instinct of a man who'd ridden public transportation since he was a boy. As soon as the graffiti-covered doors parted, he stepped out onto the platform and ascended the stairs, eager to share his new insurance information with Dr. Ludlow.

~~~~~

Scratchy violins and the hum of a theremin. Shrill shrieks and cracks of thunder. A cackle resounded, then a pipe organ, playing a melody in a minor key.

There was no doubt about it. Halloween spirit had saturated 4A.

NCB's Movie Marathon Mayhem had begun at 10:00 AM. Y/N had had it on since getting out of the shower, hoping to catch a horror classic while she decorated the apartment and prepared Bloody Mary mix. As she hung cotton batting between the television's rabbit ears, creating a long, narrow spider-web, she realized they were only playing cheesy B-movies. Giant insects threatening buildings. Science experiments gone wrong. Alien invasions. Oh well. At least she wouldn't have to pay much attention to get the gist of the plots.

The orange plastic platter, black bats along its edges, had been an impulse buy. She thought its array of sugary skeletons, candy bracelets, and Jolly Jack chocolate bars would be well received. But having seen only one or two kids in the lobby, she had no idea how many children lived in their building. She hoped she'd bought enough.

The cardstock window decorations she'd found were festive and matched Arthur's sweet nature. One portrayed a warted, green witch flying on a broom past a full moon. On the other, a ghost and mouse shared a pillowcase of candy and wished a "Happy Halloween." She held the tape dispenser between her teeth as she stuck them to their white front door.

Just then, the elevator dinged. Glancing to her left, she saw Arthur stroll down the cheerfully lit hallway. Buoyant expression on him, despite his white, blue, and red make-up being streaked from sweat. Striped prop bag on his shoulder and carved pumpkin cradled in his arms. "The store owner was going to throw it out," he explained with a half hug. "But he let me have it as a tip."

Classic, triangular eyes evoked the annual carving contest her parents had taken part of back home. Her father had been well-known in the community, being the town's only doctor. Entering the competition had been expected. They'd never won but enjoyed it all the same. Y/N had picked out the patterns and scooped out the squash's slimy innards. Her mother had baked the seeds. Peals of their laughter echoed in her ears, and a lump formed in her throat.

She swallowed hard against it. Dammit, Y/N. Get it together. This was supposed to be a special night for Arthur and her. She needed to distract herself. One of his curls peeked out from under his bald-cap and green wig. She twirled a strand around her finger. "With that toothy grin, it just might be your twin," she said. He pecked her temple, the kiss sticky from greasepaint. She lit the half-melted candles using his red lighter and put the jack-o-lantern just outside their door.

While he freshened his paint in the bedroom, she slinked into the bathroom to change. Arthur's and her routines were closely aligned; keeping her costume hidden had not been easy. The headband holding the furry cat ears was quite stiff, its teeth a tad sharp on her scalp. Once it was in place, she hid it under her hair. The lint on her form-fitting stretch top and leggings reminded her why she rarely wore all black. She retrieved her brown eyeliner from the nearby shelf and started in on her whiskers.

Arthur's footsteps neared, heavy due to his clown shoes, and Y/N turned to lean back on the sink. His thin lips parted as he scanned her body, forehead furrowed in pleasant surprise. His reaction planted a seed of bliss in her belly, one that bloomed every second they regarded each other. The lunch she'd have to spring for was well worth the pink shells of his ears. Eventually, she held out the fluffy, wired tail and a safety pin. "Would you pin this just below my waistband?"

Fingers grazing hers, he took it and sat on the toilet lid. He cupped her hips and pulled her closer, positioned her until the dampness of his breath hit a bare sliver of her back. "Hold still," he murmured, his voice sending a tingle through her. At his gentle ministrations, the spandex of her leggings felt snugger. "Did you- Did you read my journal?"

A faint click of metal as the pin closed. "No." She colored the tip of her nose, frowned at how lackluster the shade was. "I'd never do that. Even if I'm dying for a preview of your material. Why?"

"No reason." A soft huff, his shy smile clear in his answer. "I have an idea." He handed her a washcloth and hurried out of the room. She was patting her face dry when he returned, a fine tipped brush and pot of black greasepaint in his hand. "This'll look better."

Her brow arched. She'd only had her make-up done once; Patricia had invited her when they'd first met. Such an outing was not her preference, but Y/N had accepted, being new in town and wanting to learn about her colleague. There'd been champagne at the counter, which she'd sipped until she'd spent too much on eyeshadow and apricot scrub. The next morning, she'd put the products and a note on Patricia's desk: "I'll never forgive you. Thanks!"

The heat radiating from Arthur prompted her to close the gap between them. She craned her neck towards him, slid her palms to his yellow vest until she held him just below his ribs. His forefinger curled under her chin, lifted it slightly and angled it to the right. The cool, wet brush met her fevered skin. The dusty smell of the greasepaint blended with a whiff of stale cigarette smoke and traces of his sweat. She licked her lips.

The vibration of his chuckle was felt before heard. "I really like your costume," he said lowly. Two more ticklish caresses of the bristles on the apple of her cheek. "If you're not careful, I might werewolf and go wild."

She stretched closer to him, the fervor in his tone going straight to her center. Though he'd been growing bolder, his cocky side wasn't often revealed. She wanted it, thirsted to see more of the wild horse kicking inside him. Her touch ran over his chest, until she dipped under his black suspenders and pulled. "Are you going to gobble me up?"

Teasing strokes on her nose. "Maybe." Then his thumb whispered along her jaw and guided her face upwards. His kiss was supple, slow, a drag of his mouth as his tongue sought entry. She yielded, the simmer of anticipation bringing her to her toes. He groaned deeply and palmed her thigh, then fondled the curve of her rear-

The ding-dong of the doorbell halted them. He lifted his head and laughed, gaze sparkling. "I got paint on you."

She twisted in his arms and looked in the mirror. The whiskers caught her eye, embellished at the ends with dainty curlicues - his skill never ceased to impress her. Red brightened her lips and streaks of white were on her cheek. "It's all right. They'll just know I've been necking with a clown."

~~~~~

The sound of the bell continued. Over and over and over. More than it ever had in Otisburg. There were mummies, ghosts, a couple of skeletons. A superhero proudly displayed his red cape and blue tights, and a kid in her karate robe went on about her yellow belt. A tiny clown, too young to walk, was brought by her sister. As Arthur made funny faces, the baby cooed and tried to take his red, foam nose. Arthur parted with it gladly.

Only one member of the Wayne family appeared, slicked back hair and pompous pout making the disguise complete. The man accompanying the boy introduced himself as their upstairs neighbor and shook their hands. After one look at Y/N, he nudged Arthur's bicep. "So, she's the one keeping half the building up at night. Good on you, pal." Arthur blinked in confusion as she ushered the guy away, red-faced and muttering about his nerve.

Arthur was overly generous, giving out fistfuls of sweets while taking a few extra seconds to gather his nerves and compliment the costumes he liked best. It felt good to interact with strangers without constantly second guessing himself. Y/N would rub his arm or kiss his shoulder and tell him what a great job he was doing. "Kids are easy," he said, refilling the candy dish. But he reveled in her praises, anyway. And the knowledge that meeting the neighbors was going well.

Clean-up required little effort. The jack-o-lantern sat on their kitchen table, flames flickering as the wicks burned away. The door decor was packed safely for use next year. His plaid blazer was slung over the back of a dining chair and his wig was off. Y/N's decision to leave her whiskers on pleased him - she made a damn sexy cat. He pocketed the last few pieces of candy to snack on during the remainder of the evening.

The Sunday Night Special Presentation she'd picked out, a made-for-TV horror movie, began at 9:00 PM on GBC. Most of its airtime was punctuated by her tipsy snickers and legal wisecracks, which was typical when they watched something stupid. Yet, as the show went on, she grew quieter, barely speaking between sips of her third cocktail. As they sat on the sofa, her posture stiffened. Forearms crossed over her breasts. Her nails dug into her upper arm.

The change started two-thirds of the way into the show, when the plot about a doll running amok twisted into a story about a professional woman trying to assert herself against the demands of her mother. Against the expectations of availability. To fight for the simplicity of having dinner and peace and quiet. It resonated with him, which felt weird. Especially when the film cut to black, the implication being the mother would meet a violent end at the hands of her possessed daughter.

A cheerful jingle came on. Puerto Rico was a direct flight from Gotham Airport, it advertised, a flight that lasted "two hours and fifteen tropical minutes." They should get out while the weather was still good. The juxtaposition of mood broke him out of his ponderings. He flicked off the blaring television with the remote. Then he heard Y/N sniffling.

She set her glass on the coffee table, a slight tremble in her hand. "I need some air," she whispered as she rose, then went out onto the fire escape.

Arthur rubbed his thigh and pressed his lips together. He wasn't used to seeing her cry. Not from sadness. Should he follow her? Give her time? Both had worked previously, depending on the situation. But he wasn't sure what had upset her, what situation they were in now.

Exhaling sharply, he grabbed her glass and dumped the rest of the drink down the kitchen sink. Rinsed their dinner plates and put the slow cooker in the fridge. When he'd finished making decaf coffee ten minutes later, she still hadn't returned. He ambled towards the ajar glass door and stepped out.

Moonlight outlined her shapely figure and reflected off her hair, the silver a contrast to the orange glow of the streetlamps illuminating her face. Her stare seemed fixated on the street below. He followed it to see a group of ghouls and goblins spraying shaving cream on a shop window. A couple, one he'd see occasionally when out for a cigarette, walked down the sidewalk. A woman was half-carrying a drunk man towards a bus stop.

Upon clearing her throat, Y/N spoke. "I may not look like it, but I had a great time with you tonight. The movie just got to me." Relieved, Arthur sidled next to her, wrapped his arm about her back. Her head fell to his shoulder and she smoothed her hand over his stomach. "I don't mean to hide from you. Someday you'll know the details of my earlier life." She scoffed. "When I'm ready to think about them." He entwined their fingers and kissed her hairline, avoiding the wired tips of her cat ears.

Shivering, she took a shaky breath. "There are no skeletons in my closet. Only disappointments." Her voice cracked as she beamed at him, cupped his cheek, and pressed her face to his. "Knowing I'd get to have you would have made those years so much easier."

He held her tightly, massaging between her shoulders. She'd been speaking about herself, but he couldn't help thinking it was about him, too. His years with Penny. His stints in Arkham. The loneliness, the isolation, the endless anger and yearning to be more than a speck of dirt no one cared for. His journal was full of questions about where the hell his one and only was. If he'd known she'd be real, tangible instead of a figment, would existence have hurt less?

Wincing, he tried to push through those thoughts. To focus on her instead of himself. What mattered was that Y/N needed him. Perhaps a joke would cheer her. "I was thinking the other night of how easy it is to smile around you," he said. "You tickle my funny bone." Amusement bubbled in her throat, music to his ears. She released a contented sigh and nuzzled the crook of his neck.

Peaceful stillness ensued as the minutes passed. Though the breeze was chill, goosebumps forming on his pale skin, her affection kept his heart warm. His fingertips rubbed circles into her lower back, and she offered a pleasured hum. Across the way, footsteps pounded. He glanced to see a kid darting up the street, plastic pumpkin pail in tow. The boy's scream was filled with boundless energy: "Happy Halloween, Gotham!"

Snorting, Y/N took Arthur's hand and led him inside. The cheap tail she wore bounced with every exaggerated swivel of her hips. "I've behaved all evening, which your werewolf comment made extraordinarily difficult." She looped her arms around him and flashed a come-hither stare. "May I have a goodie?"

The scrape of her nails on his scalp coiled a knot in his abdomen. "Aren't you supposed to say 'trick-or-treat?'" he asked huskily.

"Your pussycat needs a petting or two." She closed the bedroom door behind them. "Maybe even a mauling."

His brows shot up on a hitched giggle. Then he palmed her hip while she started in on his buttons. Before she got too far, he traced a whisker with the pad of his thumb. Let their foreheads meet and pecked her eyelids. "Only if you give me something good to eat." He pressed into her, his enjoyment relentless, not waiting for her reply before devouring her mouth.

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve​, @howdylilflower​, @sweet-nothings04​, @stephieraptorr​, @rommies​, @fallenstarsabyss​, @gruffle1​, @octopus-plasma​, @tsukiakarinobara​, @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile​, @another-day-in-chuckletown​, @hhandley80​, @jokerownsmysoul​, @mrscarnival​

[surrealsunday]

since this has came up... can you write one shot of established!Elu in grocery store!!! please please please pretty please please 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Anon, you left this in my inbox forever ago and I had every intention of answering it then but I must have gotten distracted (oohhh shiny object!) and I just re-found it. My sincere apologies! I hope this little snippet of Tempo Eliott and Lucas shopping for groceries will fit the bill… it ended up differently than I thought… but yeah, I’ve said it before… I have so little control over these characters. It was also only supposed to be a couple hundred words… yeah… story of my life:

❤️❤️❤️❤️

Lucas snorts with what he intended to be exasperation but in actuality comes out affectionate and amused. “Yeah, but why did we have to come here? This is more than a little out of the way, love.”

Eliott grins back at him, pulling Lucas along by their linked hands as they make their way through the entrance of what looks to be a ridiculously overpriced grocery store. Lucas can practically see the blinking sign situated right over the organic fruit he can’t even identify – Be warned: You will be subject to encounters with vegans and hipsters. Enter at your own risk.

“Live a little, baby!” Eliott pulls Lucas forward, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pressing a smacking kiss to the side of his head. “We’re exploring!”

“I prefer exploring new countries… new cities. New grocery stores wasn’t top of my list.”

Eliott expels a noise of amusement. “Ok, rich boy.”

“Hey!” Lucas laughs, shoving at Eliott’s side. “You’re the successful artist around here. I’m just some washed up movie star.”

Before Eliott has an opportunity for a rebuttal they’re faced with two teen girls who have stepped directly in front of their path. Eliott pulls Lucas to a stop.

“Hi!” One girl bursts, sounding like it took all her strength to do so. “I’m so sorry. This is so awkward. I like – never do this but –”

“Oh my god, you are such an idiot,” the other girl laughs. “Just ask him!”

“Shut up!” The first girl hisses, face deepening to a truly concerning red. She looks back at Lucas. “I was just wondering if we could have a picture?”

Eliott’s mouth is suddenly at Lucas’s ear, chuckling softly. “Yeah. Real washed up, heartthrob.” He presses a kiss there, before dropping his arm, hand sliding down Lucas until he pats him lightly on the ass before stepping back.

“Yeah, of course.” Lucas smiles winningly, thankful for his ability to call upon his acting chops in such moments. Of course he’d be approached near 23hr, wearing threadbare sweats and a t-shirt that has a nice sized hole near the bottom courtesy of playtime with Ouba that got a little too rough, hair a riot of tangles after he hadn’t bothered to brush it following a particularly energetic shower with Eliott. He can only imagine what he looks like. It doesn’t help that Eliott always insists he looks “so fucking good, I don’t know how I ever let you get out of bed,” even when Lucas is sure he’s looking his most ‘never seen a mirror in his life.’ Really this is Eliott’s fault – for skewing Lucas’s perception of himself so entirely. Lucas just wanted pancakes.

“I can take it,” Eliott offers, gesturing for the girl’s phone, “if you like.”

“Oh, no,” the girls giggle, exchanging a quick look, “we meant like – of you two?”

Eliott’s face wrinkles in confusion and Lucas finds a genuine smile growing on his face. Even after a year and a half together, Eliott still doesn’t understand his face has become just as recognizable as Lucas’s.

“Us?” Eliott asks confused, looking to Lucas and back to the girls.

“Yeah,” the girl confirms, biting her lip nervously.

“She thinks you guys are stupid hot together,” the other girls suddenly blurts, much to her friend’s horror.

“Oh my god, Emilie, shut up!!!”

Lucas chuckles, taking pity on her, not entirely upset by the new direction of this request. “It’s no worries.” He quirks an eyebrow at Eliott. “Well?”

Eliott breaks into a radiant smile, looking back at the girls who now look a little stunned – Lucas so entirely understands. “You sure you want me uglying up the shot?” He winks at them and Lucas can’t hold back his eye roll as he hauls Eliott towards him. Stupid, charming, hot fiancé.

The girls both giggle, eyes focused solely on Eliott now… Lucas can’t blame them for that either. Eliott drapes himself across Lucas from behind, pressing their heads together, and Lucas finds his own smile spreading across his face as the girls take what is definitely more than just a couple pictures, then squeal as Eliott turns to press a kiss to Lucas’s cheek. Lucas knows these pictures will be trending on Twitter by the end of the night but at the very least he’d like to avoid being hounded when there’s still pancake mix to buy.

“You mind giving us an hour before posting those?” Lucas asks when the girls are done taking the pictures. “Give us a chance to do our shop before anyone knows we’re here?” He leans towards them with a charming grin. “God knows I won’t be able to keep the masses off him.” He tilts his head back towards Eliott as the girls laugh.

“Of course,” the girl with the camera agrees easily. “And thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You are so embarrassing,” the other girl whispers as they turn to walk away, furtive glances back towards Eliott.

Lucas laughs, turning in Eliott’s arms to press a quick kiss to his mouth.

“Can’t take you anywhere,” Eliott whispers against his lips. “My movie star.”

Lucas hums. “Well if someone hadn’t used up all the pancake mix on Idriss, we wouldn’t be here. Midnight pancakes are a right I won’t be denied, Eliott.”

Eliott grins, shrugging and looking entirely unapologetic. “Maybe it was all part of my masterplan.”

“Masterplan?” Lucas snorts. “To drag me a million blocks out of the way to explore some random hipster grocery store?”

“To drag you a million blocks out of the way to make out with you in random aisles of the hipster grocery store.” There’s a cocky smirk on Eliott’s face that suggests this really was his plan.

“Well,” Lucas licks his lips, sliding his hands down to press against Eliott’s chest, “you’ll have to catch me first.” He pushes back from Eliott abruptly and spins on his heel to sprint away. He’s taken Eliott by surprise and he delights in the way Eliott laughs behind him as he gives chase.

It’s more an easy jog than anything, neither of them particularly wanting to draw more attention to themselves than they already have, and Lucas lets Eliott catch him just as he turns into a snack aisle. Eliott latches to Lucas’s bicep, spinning him quickly and immediately pressing him back against the shelves as he connects their lips. Lucas sinks into it, letting Eliott control the kiss, turning it hot and dirty in no time at all – definitely not hipster grocery store appropriate. Lucas revels in the fact.

A bag of chips suddenly tumbles down from above them, falling on their heads before continuing to the ground at their side. Lucas breaks their kiss to look down.

“Ooohhh, I could go for some chips.” Lucas is proud of the way his voice comes out relatively unaffected as Eliott takes the opportunity to lean forward and press kisses to his neck. “Chips, and pancakes with chocolate chips, and oohhhhh gummy bears.”

“You know what I could go for?” Eliott whispers, biting Lucas’s earlobe before sucking it into his mouth.

“Mmm, lemme guess,” Lucas whispers, eyes slipping shut, as he runs his hands through Eliott’s hair, “only the best hipster crap for you. Kimchi… cold brew coffee… kombucha… organic light beer…and fruit that doesn’t cast a shadow.”

Eliott is laughing against his neck now. He pushes off the shelf to look at Lucas with a shake of his head. “You’re a little shit.”

Lucas wiggles an eyebrow. “Yeah but,” he reaches down for the bag of chips, waving them in Eliott’s face, “I’m a little shit with…” He turns the bag slightly to read what product he’s managed to inadvertently procure. “Uggghhhh.” His face scrunches with revolt. “Root vegetable chips?! What – are potatoes not good enough for hipsters now? Who would do this to chips?!”

Eliott snorts with laughter, taking the bag from Lucas to place it back on the shelf before weaving their hands together. “C’mon, baby,” he begins pulling Lucas down the aisle, “let’s go find your pancake mix.”

“It’ll probably be made with sprouted flour that keeps growing inside your belly or something,” Lucas grumbles.

Eliott laughs lightly, looking back at him. “You know that’s not a thing, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll see if you’re still laughing when plants start growing from my belly button.”

“You have a cute belly button. It would work.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Eliott pulls him closer until he’s able to wrap an arm around Lucas’s back. “Yeah. Your idiot.”

Lucas turns slightly to wrap arms around Eliott’s middle in a half-hug, tucking his head down with a cheek pressed to Eliott’s chest. “We’re still gonna get gummy bears though, right?” Lucas whispers, maybe a little aware that there is no way for Eliott to resist him like that.

Eliott sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of Lucas’s head. “Ok and gummy bears. But you know you shouldn’t eat so much refined sugar when you’re training. I’m just trying to help you stay healthy.”

“Please!” Lucas scoffs, raising his head enough to look up at Eliott. “Refined sugar is like the foundation of every runner’s diet.” Eliott snorts. “And besides,” Lucas adds, looking around them slightly at the other snacks lining the aisle, “in this place they’re gonna be organic and made with real fruit juice or some crap. Basically salad.”

“You’re so stupid,” Eliott laughs.

“Yes, but you knew that when you – ohhhhh CHOCOLATE!” Lucas launches away from Eliott to the other side of the aisle, staring up in awe at the selection of chocolate. Sure, the words ‘organic’ and ‘vegan’ are on at least a few but… chocolate is chocolate. Lucas will deal.

“God,” Eliott’s chuckles come from behind him, “what am I gonna do with you?”

Lucas glances back over his shoulder. “You’re going to marry me.”

Eliott’s face immediately softens, head tilting as he looks at Lucas. “Yeah. I am.”

[lovemxnot]

How to kill a dragon | Lee Minho

Genre: how to train your dragon!au, Vikings!au, enemies to lovers.

Pairings: Reader X Minho ft. 3racha & Hyunjin (if you squint).

Word count: 18.7k

Warnings: language, blood and gore, idk they're Vikings what would you expect.

Synopsis: It was your soul's mission to avoid Lee Minho at any cost, but life seemed to have other plans. A plan full of dragons, confusion, lots of tears, Minho, and newly found troubling feelings.

A/N: This will be a two-shot ( honestly just like two more parts and an epilogue left), ‘cause I'm dying over here and can't think of an ending, this has been sitting in my drafts for 4 months now, and I think its time to set it free.

umm, give me feedback? I’d love to hear what you have to say. Anything to motivate me to finish this story. or not, hope you enjoy it anyway !

I.

Steam was still rising from your soup bowl, meaning you haven’t been sitting on the polished wooden bench here for that long. But time could not go any slower than a wagon pulled in mud whenever you were in the presence of the almighty Lee’s family.

All they did throughout the whole weekly-dinners you and your father had with them in the great hall was boast and brag about how powerful they are, how many dragons they’ve slain, how much dragon skin they have hung up on their walls as tapestry, and how many teeth they wore around their necks, one from each species they’ve killed, as a reminder to the townspeople of who they were.

They perceived themselves as royalty. No one actually liked them, but everyone bared with their bragging as they played a crucial role in keeping this land safe and in one piece.

Your spoon kept picking at the peas in your soup, glaring at them, hoping if you keep your head down and stare at your soup long enough, you might turn into one eventually and not have to sit through this agonizingly long Rendezvous.

You wished you could skip these dinners, but being the last and only descendant of the villages’ chief put you in a tight spot. The Lee’s were a compelling family, they kept the village safe for innumerable years, forming a long line of dragon slayers. So to refrain from rendering this town to ashes, your father made sure to always be on good terms with them; thus you have to sit next to your father on a weekly basis in the large hall placed up north the island, where the elite lived, and pretend you don't dream about having their heads on sticks.

Appetite nowhere in sight, you abandoned your soup in favor of playing with the mashed potato next to the rib meat dosed in a brown sauce, smashing it even more. The food looked delicious, props to the chef, but you lost your appetite whenever you were within a mile of their existence. Being their neighbor wasn’t that fun either. Not when you inevitably meet at least one of the Lee’s whenever you step a foot out of your house.

You were beginning to believe this dinner might actually end on a peaceful note this time, without food thrown at each other across the table. Until the pretty faced boy seated in front of you opened his mouth.

“Why so quiet, Y/N? Dragon got your tongue?” Lee Minho, the youngest and last of the Lee’s, teased.

Great, now any sign of you having a civil, quiet meal completely perished.

You glared at him, trying to keep composed and not fall into one of his tricks, you replied, “Having to stare at your face all evening makes me want to hurl.” Alright, so much for keeping your composure.

“Aw, I make you that nervous?” He grinned, mischievousness sparkling in his pretty brown eyes— you meant ugly, ugly mud brown eyes.

“Aw, you want me to shove my foot up your ass?” You taunted.

“Y/N.” your father warned, but you ignored him.

“If that's what you're into,” that made everyone on the table queasy. And made your cheeks burn.

“you're revolting.”

“Come on, princess, I know you like me.”

“ I’d much rather have myself hunted down by a night fury than fraternize with you .” It was infuriating how good looking he and his brothers were.

His oldest brother, the firstborn- Chan, was the only one with a cool-headed mind, he was notoriously known in the village for his strength but he never, not once bragged or acted out as the rest of his younger siblings.

You were even more agitated with the way your heartstrings tugged whenever you set eyes on Minho. But you never liked him. There was no reason behind that, no big fight over who got the last biscuit from the great hall buffets, or quarrels over who-said-what-about-who, and especially no arguments over who was the better Viking because you-along with the whole island- knew that both of you have never killed a dragon.

While 12-year-olds were out there with a dash in their slate, both you and Minho were known for being the most softhearted Vikings this town has seen in decades. It was no victorious title, especially not to Minho, the legacy of the Lee’s must continue on, and you understood how suffocating it must feel to have to bear the weight of the crown he was forced to wear since the day he took his first breath. And it’ll stay on his head till the day he takes his last.

You hated him because he was a stuck up prick that couldn’t stop himself from annoying the living daylights out of you. And as far as you know, he couldn’t stand you either, if the glares he always sent your way weren’t an indication of his hate than you don’t know what it is. But you had no idea why he hated you. You never did anything to him. His hostility originated from the pressure of being the black sheep of the house, but why he chose to take it out on you was a mystery.

“Be careful what you wish for.” Minho had the audacity to smirk, right where you had a steaming hot bowl of soup in your hands reach. Did he not learn from the last time he tried to test you? Was the slimy residue of the goat intestines that left his hair sticky and smelly for a week not enough of a warning of how hands-on you could get? He might need a reminder.

He was right though, Night furies were no joke. They are the most feared type of dragons. It only appears at night, never shows itself. It’s fast, stealthy, and never misses an aim. If it has its eyes on you, then you better pray to Odin to give you enough stamina to outrun it to a shelter, because other than that your chances of encountering a night fury and coming out alive are nigh to none.

It’s sporadic to see a night fury, much less kill one. No one knows how it looks like, and no one has ever caught or killed one. The only sign that one has come to hunt you is their screech and their unmistakable blue plasma fireballs that could burn anything to ashes upon contact.

You could say night furies were the most sought after dragon in the Lee’s, they want them as a trophy. If they could get that under their belts, then this town would not hear the end of it with how high their heads would be in the asses, proudly wearing it as a tophat.

While you were busy thinking of your comeback, You heard his parents and your father joking as always, saying how you two bickered like a married couple, and how perfect the both of you already played into your foreseeable future marriage.

This was another point that added fuel to your hatred. Your families always talked about how the both of you would eventually come around your little fights and marry each other.

With that said, you still would rather be eaten alive by a dragon than have to face the Lee’s for any second longer.

You opened your mouth to say exactly that, but the perusing pair of eyes that were set on you made you shut up. You turned your gaze from Minho's and caught his older brothers instead.

You’ve always admired Chan, he was calm and collected, unlike his baby brother. Fighting in front of him made you feel immature. You two don’t talk often, but you would have absolutely no problem if he were the one you would be betrothed to. He was a very sensible man.

You dropped your gaze back to your plate, letting go of the issue. Shame draped over your shoulders like a coat, you don't mean to pick fights with Minho, but his constant remarks always hit the nail on the head. He knew how to get on your nerves, and it irked you to no end that you give him the power to do so.

“So tomorrow is the big day, yeah?” Minho’s father cut into the pregnant air with his question, gathering everyone’s attention back to him, ignoring you twos previous bickering.

“Yes, the sea has cleared up enough for us to set sail.”

Seeing as it was getting hotter these days, sun heating up your armors, turning them into a portable fireplace, melting your skin. Seas turning back to their natural liquid state, your father and his soldiers were bound to go on to one of their semi-annual sea trips.

It completely slipped your mind. It was always around this time, where the adults of this town sailed out to explore the ambiguous sea, in hopes of finding where all these dragons were nesting, while the younglings stayed back for dragon training.

Dragon training.

You’ve managed to avoid joining training thus far, somehow explaining to your father how important it was for you to learn from the town's seamstress how to sew two pieces of leather skin together. But you had a feeling, not this time.

“ Is Commander Kim still the head trainer for this year's dragon training ?” Your father nodded, then said, “ speaking of dragon training, Y/N will be joining this year.”

That was news to you. You knew it was bound to happen, but knowing that he signed you up behind your back without consulting you first hurt.

“What?!” Your spoon clacked loudly against the plate, gathering everyone's attention.

“You heard me,” He said with finality. “ Minho will be there with you too. One of you might actually kill a dragon this time.” He added humorously as if that would make either of you feel any better. You would rather jump into an active volcano than have to stand next to one of them.

You saw Minho scowl at the mention of his name while everyone else at the table cackled.

“ I bet Y/N will kill one first.” Changbin, the second oldest son and the older twin of the lee pair, made the frown on Minho's face deepen. You could see he was trying to not burst, his hands curled to a fist, knuckles turning white.

Sympathy washed your disdain away, You always felt sorry for Minho whenever his brothers made fun of him. You were an only child and were handled as a relic, meant to be seen and not touched, behind compacted glass. You've never lived a life of sibling rivalry, it wasn't that you envied people with siblings but the thought of having someone to throw the blame on when you tear one of your father's maps seemed pleasant. You always thought blood is thicker than water but witnessing firsthand the unfortunate bulling of lee Minho made you think otherwise.  

“ what’s she going to kill it with? Her crossbow?” The younger twin, Jisung, Snorted. You ignored him, both pairs of the twins were nut heads. Albeit good looking nut heads.

“But Father,” you tried to bring the conversation back onto you, letting Minho breath for a second, not that you cared about him, but because you would hate it if you were in his place “the seamstress finally managed to get velvet, she’s going to show me—“

“No more excuses!! this time you're going!” He slammed his fist into the table. He looked mad, you didn’t know the town folks shit-talking about his daughter being too weak to inherit this town bothered him that much. He must have reached his limit for him to slip and yell at his kin in front of other people. “ how can I pass this village down to you if you can’t even face a training dragon?!”

Ouch. That stung. It wasn’t like you wanted to become the next chief, you wanted to explore the world beyond your tiny island, study the plants and animals, experience life in general. But you were tied down by duties and responsibilities.

You were startled into tears, you’ve never felt this humiliated before. Getting yelled at in front of your archnemesis made tears threaten to fall from your eyes. Now you wished you had stared at your soup harder, those peas looked like they were having fun.

Picking up your crossbow from beside your leg, you stood up abruptly. Your soup could not rival the heat that was pooling in your cheeks, eyes glassy, lips pressed to a tight line. “I'll take my leave.” you rushed outside, ignoring your father's calls. Missing the solicitous stare that followed your figure out, his fists unclenching, chest filling up with both gratitude and pity.

II.

Pine green leaves on frail branches tickled your face every once in a while on your trek down the dirt road of the forest, strong winds -signs of an oncoming storm- kept bristling with your hair, braiding it into knots that had you dreading the thought of detangling it. Boots imprinting the unscathed pathway, Crossbow in hand, you shot at any object that moved. Not because you were scared. No, you loved the forest dearly, it was your second home. Whenever you felt stressed, you'd take walks here, or when you had free time you would come and study the plants and animals that habitat here. Which was more often than you'd think.

You wanted to blow off some steam and going to your house wasn’t an option as your father most probably will be there. Unkind words might be exchanged, and you didn't want your father to leave the next day and be gone for who knows how long with fighting as his last memory with his daughter. That's if he comes back this time.

On their last voyage, they came back two weeks later than they said they would. It sent the village into a state of panic with wives thinking they lost their men, kids orphaned, and most importantly - you thought you lost your last living parent, left alone to fend for yourself, forced to fill your father's place at the throne. Alas, it triggered your father into taking action, forcibly joining dragon training was the aftermath of the trepidation. If something were to happen to him you had to be ready to take control. But when worse comes to worst, you weren’t sure you'd be able to breathe the air the same way you did before without grief numbing you, or look at the sun and think of anything except for the two parents you lost, their souls ever-burning as bright as the sun. Colors would all look dull to you, any positive emotions nonexistent in your period of depression. But it was your destiny, to lead these people into many more years to come.

It was well after midnight, dinner lasted as long as usual, but the night seemed young now that you weren’t tied to the bench. Not looking where you were going, You kicked the pebbles under your feet and shot another bolt to the inert tree to your right. Stars provided minimal light, filling the forest with an eerie darkness, you tuck your hair behind your ears every time mother nature played and whirled it into your face. The dark shadows of the night didn’t affect you, it wasn’t your enemy, and right now it gave you more comfort than anyone could, letting you be with your thoughts. You had the forest memorized like the minuscule cracks that sat on the ceiling of your room, concatenating as harsh, unforgiving winters pass by. You could walk through it blindfolded and still tell which tree was which. Which tree you and the apothecary’s son, Hyunjin, had carved both your initials on after a diffident kiss on one spring day, stashed under for shade from the beating rays.

It was nothing but a burst of curiosity, a quick touch of the lips and then a whole lot of laughter. You frequently drop by at his house now and help out with whatever concoction he is working on while you talked. You help scavenge some of the herbs they need for the medicine from the forest. In return, he listens to your whining about a particular reincarnation of the devil that won't stop pestering you until you rest 6 feet underground. It was a small price you had to pay for a great therapy session.

The forest was your safe ground. No one comes to it unless they needed something. Even so, they wouldn’t venture far into the woods like you do. It was the quietest part of the whole island. Some would think that living in the forest would make for a good hiding spot from measly dragons. That would be true if it weren't for the so-named Razorwing dragons. As its name convey, they have razor-sharp wings that could slice through any concrete object with ease and snack on you for breakfast, picking their teeth with your bones. Vikings are infamously known for their unwieldy stubbornness, and your people were no different, refusing to be chased off their island by some winged beasts, they'd die with their ego held high, soaring like a flag in the sky, or forever stay rolling in their graves.

You knew you were going to have to face training one way or another, but getting enrolled in it without your knowledge and being informed a day before the training begins wasn’t the way you would’ve liked it.

You were mad at yourself more than anyone else. Why couldn’t you just kill one? Why did you have to be so soft-hearted and feel bad whenever you see one laying on the ground, beheaded brutally, or crushed to bits by hammocks, and skinned raw. They were vicious animals, after all, stealing your livestock, burning the crops, killing people- be it children or adults. they didn't have mercy on you, so why should you?

A cold droplet of rain cut into your train of thought. You saw before you heard the rain start to pour down in-between the cracks of the thickly woven tree leaves.

It was dangerous being outside after sundown, dragons liked hunting in the darkness of the night. But it wasn’t the first time you sneaked out here without your fathers' knowledge. you’d often slip past him and his watchers to go venture out and saturate your curiosity. 

You should head back, but you didn’t want to face your father, not after you stormed out on him. you will surely get a lecture and you were in no mood for that.

You took shelter under the last tree you shot, pulled the bolt out of its body and layed against it, rough tree bark rubbed against your palms, your eyes shut for a minute, listening to the heavy drops of rain slam down at an unhuman velocity, winds carrying them north towards the town.

As frightening as some people found storms to be, you felt the opposite. the rucks caused from the howling wind and thunder took your mind off of things. Dozing off on the sound, your shoulders dropped, chest lighter than earlier, feeling yourself get lifted as the rain washed over you. With one last deep breathe, you opened your eyes only for it lock with someone else’s.

Or should you say something else’s, for the viridescent hues of the snake slitted eyes peeking through the leaves on the tree facing you were no man's eyes. They were a dragons.

This jolted you awake faster than an ice bucket thrown in your face. Drowsiness nowhere to be seen, you tightly grip onto your only weapon but didn't lift a finger, you didn’t dare to breathe either, praying if you stay still enough it might forget you were there. The eyes didn’t move, didn’t blink, It was locked onto you. A strike of thunder lighted up the sky enough for you to see the leathery black skin of the beast in front of you.

You’ve spent hours upon hours reading every book about dragons your tiny excuse of a library had- every type, species, how they look, their tactics, pressure points- but this one looked nothing like the rest from the glimpse you caught. It didn’t fit any category. You weren’t sure what type of dragon it was, you’ve never seen this one, which struck you as odd. What was even weirder was how quiet it was. Dragons are impulsive and reckless. They don’t stop and stare.

Could it be… dare you say..a Night Fury? 

The name itself sent another wave of panic throughout your body, unconsciously tightening your fingers around the crossbow. But if it was then why wasn’t it attacking you?

A sudden faint horn sound blared in the air, succeeding in catching the dragon's attention away from you, It turned its head towards it, interested as to what it was. But it was no surprise to you, you’ve heard this often. they were the warning sirens, meaning the village is under attack. This was your chance to run away, while it was distracted.

You didn’t waste a second, you shot a bolt in its direction before running as fast as your tired legs could run over the muddy ground. It was a miracle you didn’t trip with how uncoordinated you were, one hand pushing the branches out of your way while the other held onto you crossbow, head turning left and right trying to catch sight of the nightcrawler.

Oh why just why were you so unlucky, You were starting to regret not going home. Minho's voice rang in your ear “be careful what you wish for.” that damn lee, so what now he was a fortune-teller too? 

You kept running and running but no human legs could ever beat the span of a dragon's wings, the dragon was on your tail. Your doubts of this being a night fury completely vanished when you heard the unmistakable sound of its screech as it got ready to shoot a fireball at you.

You luckily dodged it by hiding behind a tree and sent another bolt blindly behind you. You were nearing the middle of the forest, where trees were scarce, thinning out slowly as you reached near the town, which put you in clear sight for the beast stalking you.

You needed a plan, quick.

Yelling for help would surely go unnoticed as the village is already under attack right now, not to mention the roaring thunder and wind cackling every two seconds. You could try hiding, but there is no place here that the dragon won’t be able to reach. Damn Odin and thor your only option is to continue running and shooting your bolts in hopes that one might hurt it enough to leave you alone.

Thunder rumbled, snapping you back to reality. It was too quiet, what was the fury doing? Was it waiting for you to come out of hiding?

Your question was answered when you felt the tree you were leaning blast on fire, burning your hand and your backside with it. Your yelp of pain was drowned out by the screech it let out. This was no time to cry over burned skin, you griped you crossbow again, ignoring the searing pain you felt and peeked out enough for you to see the dragon dive-bombing towards you.

You took a running start before you shot your bolt high up in the sky were you barely saw a shadow moving in the dark midnight sky, you turned around before you could see if it hit it, but the pained roar it let out let you know.

Twirling back around in surprise, eyes wide, you saw it’s silhouette slowly descend, starlights guiding your eyes as the dragon failed to gain control of its wings. Trees hid its landing but the tremble of the ground made it known that it didn’t fall that far away.

You ran recklessly through the forest, not caring anymore if branches scratched your face,afraid that more of its kind will come. Your burns throbbed painfully but adrenaline and fear kept you going.

Emerging from the last line of trees, you saw what you already expected to see. Vikings in armors running around with swords and spiked clubs, chasing dragons, fires breaking out everywhere despite the heavy rain. But that could not beat the horror you just went through facing one of the deadliest dragons out there, and miraculously coming out of the encounter alive.

Blindly you push yourself between people in hopes of seeing a familiar face but the rough blow to your shoulders knocked you on your bum, sending a fresh wave of pain to your injuries.

You looked up to see an aggravated Minho peering at you from above.oh it couldn’t get any worse.

“Get out of my way dimwit,” he snarled but the look on your face snapped him out of his zone, he took notice of how charred your hand and clothes looked, fear swirling in your eyes. This wasn’t the first dragon attack that you have witnessed, so what had you so shaken? 

“What's wrong?” You were too frightened to acknowledge that he was being nice to you for once. He seemed worried.

“N-n-night Fury– Chasing me— my crossbow — it fell ” you stuttered badly, trying to explain between breaths, but it was illegible. Your side burned more with each breath you took in. The grainy ground wasn't so kind on your palm, either. 

“What? What are you saying?” his eyebrows furrowed, face scrunching in confusion. He couldn't hear over the sound of the downpour and the dragons roaring. He didn't seem irritated, he reached his hands to yours, trying to help you get back on your feet, but he touched your burns and you nearly blacked out from the pain.

Your wail surprised him, he kneeled down to you now, concern obviously showing on his face, he carefully grabbed your hand and turned it to see the scaly red skin. Raindrops mercilessly piercing it.

“Odin's beard Y/N, what did you do to your hand? Shove it down a dragon's throat?” He scolded, you slipped your hand back, not appreciating his condescending tone.

Determined to get up on your own, you tried to gather your balance back but failed to do so and stumbled forward, in return Minho’s hands reached for your Waist. Your eyes stung as much as your burns.

The pain was unbearable, you saw black dots dancing in your vision, how much more was life planing on humiliating you? First, you get yelled at in front of him and now your crying. You were contemplating on going back to the night fury and begging it to eat you up. 

Lightheaded, you dropped your head on Minho's shoulder. shock was slowly leaving your system, exhaustion replacing it. 

It was strange, you've never been this close to him. Hell, you could barely stand living next to him, but right now, right here, where you could hear his heartbeat thrum in your ear despite the mayhem around you, feel his breath stagger on your neck, smell the assortment of rain, sweat and his natural musk dripping off him, with his arms secured around you, you felt safe. 

Minho would never tell a soul but he liked this, he liked how soft you were being with him, how reliant you were on him right now, how you fit in his arms. But he didn't like the scrunch that marred itself on your face. He would never confess it but he was out looking for you when he heard the sirens go off because he noticed you didn't go back home after your little outburst.

Without a word, he hauled you up, on hand under your knees the other warily yet rigidly dwelled somewhere near your bosom. You were too far out of it to scold him for touching you, and he was too strung out over you to let his mind wander far away.

Clouds roamed your vision, you fought to stay awake- you had to stay awake, you had to tell your father what happened, but the pull of unconsciousness was too strong.

III.

coarse cotton creasing under your skin woke you up. you don't recall your bed cloaked in such rough covers, but then again you don't recall going back home at all. Your eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness of daylight, a quick scan of your surroundings deemed this was the apothecary's house. There was no roaring outside so that had to mean the attack was over with, the sun was just starting to rise, peaking beyond the horizon, golden rays slipping through the window. The rain dwindled to nothing and the town was in post-war mode.

You sat up confused. Your mind was hazy, the last thing you remember was bumping into Minho before passing out. Embarrassment hit you like a brick wall, knocking the breath out of you when you remembered how you acted in front of him earlier. The Minho you know would have used that opportunity to tease you, but from what your foggy mind recalled, he was anything but earnest and caring. 

You would say it was your imagination but the pulsating sensation in your hand and ribs beg to differ.

They were much better, your hand almost completely healed while your side that took most of the hit was a bearable pain. Whatever concoction the apothecary- or was it hyunjin? - used on you worked like magic.

You slid on your boots and stood up. Many were laying around on the beds around, no doubt victims of the invaders. You couldn’t stand seeing people like this, so you rushed out the door and jogged back to your house, not to mention you were in no mood to have hyunjin nag your ear off. Your father was bound to set sail soon, and you need to talk to him before he goes.

If you had actually killed-or caught- the dragon then that changes everything. And if the said dragon was a night fury too, then you would surely gain the respect you never had in the first place. Perhaps he might even change his mind about attending the training, which would save you the hassle of facing Minho daily.

The town was a wreck, houses caved in, sorrow hanging like a dark cloud in the air, town gloomy despite the sunny day. The days after an attack are always the worst, repairing houses, regrowing the crops, burying the dead.

 you would have arrived at your residence faster if you weren't stopped every two seconds with town folks bombarding you with questions. You brushed them away with “Yes I'm fine”’s and claiming you had to catch your father before he sailed. They couldn't argue with that.

You finally reached the top of the hill that held your house when you caught sight of Minho stepping out of his own, tools in hand, no doubt on his way to help in construction. Despite how much you hated the lees, they really did a lot around town, but their boastful way of talking was what made you want to stuff breadsticks in your ears. Nobody likes a snob.

You froze in your track, normally you would either overlook his presence and avoid confronting him like he was the night fury himself, or you would bicker like cats and dogs until someone intervenes. But perhaps you could play nice for now and thank him for what he had done yesterday. After all, he saved your life. If you had passed out on the ground out there alone, you would've been an easy target for the dragons. A bullseye marked in neon red for hunters a mile away to spot. It bared on you that he was decent to you earlier, you had never, be it rarely, seen him this caring about anything disregarding himself. You were seeing him in a completely different light, and you didn't like the way it made your heart flutter.

He noticed you too and halted in his place, expression unreadable. Silence ensued, which was new to both of you. You didn't want to be the one to start the conversation. You didn't know which Minho you'd meet today. You caught his gaze grazing your form, precisely where he knew you were hurt. His cheeks tinted redder than usual when he knew he was caught, he looked the other way instantly and continued on his journey downhill. That was peculiar. Normally you were the one to ignore him and his petty attempts at a verbal combat, not him.

Before he could completely pass you, you reached for his arm “Hey Minho..” his expressions, yet again, were hard to read but you could only decrypt his body's stiffness upon contact of your hand as discomfort- Or was he flustered? His ears looked like they were about to let steam out- so you let it go.

 “I just...wanted to thank you for yesterday.”

He looked up into your eyes, no cocky smirk on his face, no strut in his walk, and no stick shoved up his ass, he seemed...tolerable. He opened his mouth to say something but someone beat him to it.

“Y/N?”

Mr.swoon himself came up from behind Minho, whose face turned sour. You never saw chan pick on Minho before, if anything, he always ended the teasing, so why does Minho look as if he bit into raw meat? Meanwhile, chan’s face displayed obvious distress, over you.

“Are you alright? I heard you were hurt badly.” Chan stepped forward, looking at you worriedly. It made your heart divert from its normal pitter-patter, you felt your body shiver up with exhilaration with the attention he was paying you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine now. It was nothing.” Relife brightened his face up, curling the corners of his lips in a smile that seldom sat on his face. He reached for your head, messing your hair up affectionately. you shrunk into yourself, your lips mirroring his. you liked the attention but the arrows Minho’s eyes were sending you were starting to get on your nerves.

“Yeah, brother, stop babying her. She can handle a little scratch, right?” he patronized. “oh wait, if I recall correctly, you passed out on me.”

And there he was ladies and gentlemen, the grade A asshole lee Minho you knew. Whatever happened a couple of hours ago must be a dream, because this Minho could never be that one, and to think you were beginning to believe that being around him won't be as suffocating anymore.

Why was he like this? his personality change gave you whiplash, he usually liked setting your nerves on fire or flirted like there was no tomorrow, sometimes even blurting borderline rude remarks, but this was straight-up jackass material. 

Blood pooled in your head, you were lucky enough to escape from the grasps of the dragon with all limbs attached, yet he was mocking you for passing out from burns that fried you like a piece of meat. You scoffed, you didn't have time to deal with his identity crisis. So like the good ol’ times, you ignored Minho in favor off keeping your sanity intact. 

“I need to catch my father before he goes, see you around?” you directed at chan. He noded and you were off, not a glance shared in the sullen boy's way.

The men sailed once the sun fully raised, and you were currently burning daylight. You prayed you could catch him before he goes, and it was heard. Your father stood in his gear talking to both commander Kim and Minho’s father outside your house. They seemed to be in a serious discussion, with how animated they all looked, but this couldn't wait.

“Father!” you called, successfully gaining his attention, “can I have a minute with you?”

“Y/N!” he held you close, eyes searching your body. Did everyone know about your little mishap yesterday? “What are you doing out? you should stay in with the healers” anger and concern were etched in his words.

“Father, I need to talk to you.” you urged.

“what about? I don't have much time” you noticed the curious stares from both Commander Kim and Lee. “In private,” you emphasized.

“Y/N, there's no time for that, whatever you need to say say it here.”

“No father, this is important.” you would never dare mention the night fury in front of the lees, you could already see the greed seeping out of their pores.

He saw how desperate you looked and dismissed both of the men before facing you. “Alright, one minute.” 

You took a breath in. This is it. this would change everything.

”I caught a night fury.” You let out in one breath.

Surprise, confusion, bewilderment, that's what you wanted to see. Not the blank stare you got. His eyes held a note of disappointment, he thought you were bluffing and he wasn't having it.

“Y/N, your mother would be really disappointed in you right now.” an arrow to the heart would have been less painful, “ if this is your attempt at getting out of training-”

“What?! Father no, I mean it! when I ran out of the great hall I went to the forest and it started raining and at first, I wasn't sure if what I saw really was a night fury or not but it was! It burned me before I shot at it and it fell !”

He shook his head, disenchantment clear “You want me to believe that you, out of thousands of Vikings that died trying to slay it, caught one? Y/N you're worrying me. You might've hit your head yesterday too.”

“Father I swear, it was sitting there just staring at me! -”

“Dragons always go for the kill Y/N, they don't sit there staring at you.”

You should've expected this. Your proclaims sound far fetched, even to your own ears.

“Y/N, please just, for the sake of this island, promise me you will go to the training.”

“But father I really-”

“Promise me!” he cut you off, not listening to what you had to say. There was no use, he wasn’t going to belive you anyway, you had no proof on you right now and there was no time for you to drag him to the forest where the dragon may or may not still be.  You dropped your head in defeat.

“I promise.” You let out begrudgingly.

The boats off far trumpeted out their horns, one last call before they sail into the unknown. Your Father dropped a kiss on your head. “I’ll be back,” he muttered his infamous last words.

You nodded your head but couldn't stare him in the face, defeated that your own blood didn't believe you. You should have expected this, why did you think differently in the first place? The timing was wrong. He thought you were making up excuses to bail on training, just a rowdy child defying their parents' order.

But his words lingered in your head.

Dragons always go for the kill, so why didn't it?

IV.

legends have it that in a cave by the edge of a lake, on a peninsula far far away, laid the gates that separate the mundane realm from the netherworld. But you believe you found one here, in front of you, in your islands forest.

It looked like a demon tried to climb its way out of hell. The usually packed dirt ground embedding rocks and other small plants was sunken, forming a sinkhole. Trees fallen around it, derogated from the soil, broken and carved into with claw marks. You were apprehensive, your father scoffing you off made you waver and doubt that anything that happened yesterday in the forest was anything but a figure of your imagination. But not anymore. Nothing but a dragon was strong enough to slice thousands of years old trees in half like they were twigs.

It must be somewhere near. You were going to prove your father and everyone that had underestimated you wrong. You were going to find that damn dragon, carve its heart out, and strut back to town with it held high up above your head When it felt nothing but downgrading to you, but if that’s what you had to do then so be it.

“ what’s she going to kill it with? Her crossbow?” you mimicked Jisung’s words in a high pitched voice as you followed the markings down the path, pushing a long branch out of your way, only for it to bounce back and slap you in the face, makeing you lose your balance.

your foot caught onto a rock and you plunged headfirst down the slope. A slope you hadn't known existed, barricaded by long abundant streaky vines and luscious shrubs. You held on to lose vines on your slid down, lessening your fall impact but it still hurt when your back met the grass-covered ground roughly.

You let out a wail as you body throbbed, but the second cry that reached your ears didn't come from you. You froze in your place, looking like a starfish out of sea-with your back to the ground, arms and legs spread out. That voice was too deep to be from your mankind. 

Mutley, you turned your head around. And there it was, The nightcrawler, curled up on itself, midnight black leather skin shining under the gleaming rays of the sun. You couldn’t tell its head from its tail from the way it was huddled up under the shade of a tree a good distance away from you, and you weren't sure you wanted too. Maybe it wasn't such a bright idea to come search for it alone after all.

You’ve studied all types of dragons, but you've never seen one like this, hell no one has seen one like this. It intrigued you. you found your curiosity overpowering your greed of self-righteousness. Which wasn't much, to begin with.

Was it dead? But you definitely heard a groan, was there another one here?

Your inquiries were answered when you saw its tail flick out from under his wings.

Holy mother of Odin's overgrown beard it was still alive.

Okay, okay, everything's okay, it didn’t seem to notice you, deep in its slumber. if you quietly sneak to that boulder behind you without catching its attention, you might-

Crack.

So it seems you might have irrationally run to the arms of death, twice in less than 24 hours. Damn that twig, might as well just go and poke the damn dragon awake and yell in its ear “Hey I'm here!! Come eat me !!”.

 The dragon slit one eye open at the sound. Its head finally peeking out from behind its wings. you must've woken it up from its deep daze when you slam-dunked the ground then gave out your whereabouts with the twig.

It didn't move and neither did you. This sent shivers down your back, you felt like you were standing under the same tree from yesterday, taking cover from the storm, The same eyes fixated on yours. The golden hues swirling in the green pool of its eyes charmed you, but they seemed off, muted, not as vibrant as you had first caught sight of them in between raindrops.

Once again, You didn't dare to breathe, afraid it might activate it into attacking. you tried to appease the shivers from shaking your body but to no effect. A grumble rumbled from its body. It obviously remembered you, and it didn't like you by the looks of it. It stood up on its legs And slowly neared you, with each step forward it took, you took one back until your back hit the designated rock you wanted to hide behind, a little too late now.

You should’ve brought someone with, maybe chan as he seemed to be the only trustworthy and capable person in this town that wouldn't dismiss your claims as an effort of escaping the training.

It took calculative steps forward, one of its wings spread to its full frighting span while the other laid close to his body, a mix of a pained howl and a growl slithered out of him. A piece of wood, one you knew too well as you crafted it yourself, caught your eyes as it jutted out of the wing hauled up to his body.

Bingo. So you did hit it, but you only managed to cut one of its wings, immobilizing it.

Balance was everything for flight. One tiny crack in the system and everything crashes. You wouldn't have guessed that such a feared dragon had such a weak spot. That was probably why it hunted at night. While other dragons had spikes, bumps or rough scales covering their bodies, it had nothing but sleek obsidian black leather skin which helped camouflage it in the darkness of the night.

Anyone in your place right now would feel elated at hitting a night fury, but the only thing that simmered in your chest was guilt. You did this to it, You took away it’s liberty.

Discreetly you tried to reach for the knife you had stashed in your belt but it was sharp, it caught your movement and growled warningly at your hands. You pulled them back up in surrender but the growling didn’t cease, its eyes didn't move from your belt. It felt threatened by it.

You again reached for the knife but this time held onto it and threw it away, far from the both of you. It was a daunting move but its growling stopped and it turned its slitted green eyes back to you. It studied you again for a long moment, then took a couple of more steps forward. You were beginning to regret throwing away your only defense mechanism.

But the dragon stopped a foot away, it just stood in silence, once again, for what felt like an eon before it laid down on the floor with a heavy thump, spreading its hurt wing, whining as it did.

You mentally cocked your head in confusion.

Was it..... was it asking for your help?

You were befuddled to say the least. You’ve been taught since your fetus days that dragons were ruthless animals, with an unquenchable thirst for blood. So why was there a dragon lying defenseless on the ground in front of you, whining like a kicked puppy?

It still had its eyes open, assessing your every breath. With a newfound surge of chivalry, you stepped forward and slowly reached until your fingertips grazed its injured wing, smooth scaly leather brushed past your tips verifying what you dreaded. It didn't retract. It really was asking for your help.

You were conflicted. You could easily attack it right now and win. You could prove everyone wrong. This was everything you needed, handed to you in a silver plate with a bow on top. But its eyes peered into yours, emotions whirling in them, mirroring yours. hurt, fear, desperation. 

You made up your mind.

Before you could regret your decision and curse yourself to rot in hell, you reached for that part of the stick that stuck out of his wing and cautiously broke it off, so it was easier and less painful to pull the other side out. it surprisingly sat still, except for the little whines and heavy breaths it let out.

As soon as you freed it from the pain, it stood up on its feet again and pounced on you, Shoving you down to the ground, locking you in place, helpless and on your back. Oh, you were so dead. Oh dear god, you have been a good child so far, what did you do to deserve this? Was it your constant fights with Minho? But it was always him that initiated it, you were simply defending yourself!!

You closed your eyes, ready to feel your skin blast of your bones, but all you got was a deafening angry roar in your ears that left you deaf for the rest of the afternoon, then it was off you, trudging towards the pond near the other side of the slope.

It didn't kill you.

It didn’t kill you, and you didn't kill it. You had the opportunity to do it, but you didn't. It knew so yet still took the chance with you and once he saw you were willing to help, he let you go too.

Mayhaps It was all a big misunderstanding. Maybe dragons were fighting only as self-defense. Maybe it was us they were afraid of and not the other way around.

Shaken to the bone, you got up and sat against the rock behind you, eyes glued to the leathered fiend. Your mind felt like mush, thoughts overlapping but one thing was clear. Dragons weren't as dangerous as you have been made to think.

It didn't seem to mind you staying here, in fact, it ignored your presence as it tried catching the fish from the pond, only for it to give up after several fruitless attempts and whine while laying down on the ground, licking its open wound clean.

It would probably never be able to fly again. Your bolt ripped a big nasty gash through its wing. 

Guilt sat heavily in the bottom of your stomach. You've never felt this shameful before. It felt horrible and you couldn't stand it, it was almost up to par with how you felt whenever someone reprehended you for your fights with Minho.

Picking up your neglected knife, you skipped to the other side of the pond as to not startle the dragon, and sat quietly by the brinks, studying the unsuspecting fish serenely swimming to and fro down below the clear water. You felt the dragons gaze curiously turn on to you. you kept yours on the aquatic organisms, waiting to strike them in the right moment.

Moments later drenched in droplets of pond water, dried dragon blood and a bucketful worth of fish piled next to you, you were pulled out of your zone when you saw- and felt a shadow looming over you. 

It was your scaly companion, sitting politely a couple of steps away from your hunt, tongue peeking out and nostrils sniffing the scent. 

“You can eat it.” you weren't sure it would understand you but by the way its pupils dilated before it lunged at the fish, tail wiggling upon your words, you knew it did.

Guilt still stubbornly hung on your lungs, even after your act of repent. you might have sated its hunger but it will never be able to soar the skies again.

There was one way you might be able to help, but you weren't so sure it would work. You have stitched dragon skin together before but not when it was on a living breathing one. But perhaps it was worth the shot. 

You’d do so tomorrow. If it was here tomorrow. But for now, you had something else to worry about. Your first dragon training lesson.

V.

“We’ll start off today with something easy.” They said. 

You thought Commander Kim might teach you how to properly pick and hold a shield and a sword, or how to find shelter, not throw all ten of you in an arena with an enraged dragon chasing you around.

you just barely escaped the grasps of a dragon only to be thrown under another one. you stuck by the corner of the arena, letting the others get chased by it instead, tranquil and at peace until your shoulder was bumped into.

“What's wrong Princess, you scared?”

“I told you to stop calling me that.” you rolled your eyes because of course Minho would take any chance he has to tease you and pretend like he didn't bully you hours ago, even if it was in the middle of the fucking training session. “And if you're so brave Mr.Slayer then why are you hiding too ?”

“I’m not hiding, I’m simply waiting for the right moment to strike.” He puffed his armored chest out. you were afraid your eyes might get stuck to the back of your head with how far you roll them around him.

“Keep telling yourself that buddy, you'll eventually start believing it.” you kept your eyes on the creature in front. But Minho turned quiet, which struck you as odd. If you learned anything from the years-long disputes with him was that he always had the last word, hell he would outlive the gods fighting to have the last word. You turned your face only for it to be a mere inch away from his. It took you back to the day before, the same emotions ran through you only this time you weren't in agony, well not physically at least, But your soul would never rest as long as you were around a Lee. A familiar tug pulled at your heart at the way he was leaning into you, nose closing in on your neck.

“What are you doing? marketing yourself as bait?” he looked up into your eyes. 

“What-?” you asked, confused.

“You smell like fish.”

you had rushed here straight from the forest without stopping at your house to change out of your bloodied sullied clothes. This was bad, if a human could smell the fishy odor off of you then a dragon’s heightened sense of smell would surely pick it up and mistake you for food.

“T-That's none of your business.” you pushed him away, putting enough distance between you to placate your thumping heart.

“since when did you like fish?”That took you aback, you hadn't known he noticed you picking on the fish meat they regularly served at the great hall. You hadn't known he focused on anything else other than his own ass.

“Since when did you care?” it might have come out as a bit too defensive but you felt threatened, he seemed to know a bit too much about you for your liking. Perhaps while you were too busy looking at anything other than him, Minho was busy looking closely at nothing other than you, engraving everything his eyes percept in his mind under a folder with your name on it, closely studying you, memorizing details for him to recite later. 

“Y/N, Minho stop trying to gauge each other throats out and focus on the lesson.” commander Kim yelled at you from his place outside the arena, where he was safe and sound, watching you from above. 

“shouldn't you be teaching us how to deafened ourselves first?” annoyance colored your voice. 

“You learn on the job.” Commander Kim yelled back, “now stop huddling up like a bunch of lovebirds and get out there.” 

you rolled your eyes once more, yeah you might lose a limb or two but it was no big deal, at least you would have a tale to tell your father when he comes back.

The others in the middle of the arena were trying everything they could, from chasing it around with their shields and weapons to it chasing them with fire bursting from its mouth.

This was ludicrous if you had wanted to get chased around by a dragon you would've stayed back at the forest with the night fury, and you were going to stat just that to your instructor. you marched towards where he stood. “Commander Kim with all due respect, don't you think its a bit too hazardous for us to be running around free with a dragon?” you were looking for a way out, you didn't want to fight the dragon.

“The only thing you should be worried about right now is that scaly thing heading towards you.” he pointed with his head behind you.

you ducked just in time when you saw a wall of fire headed at you. “EXACTLY MY POINT !!” you shouted at the instructor as you ran for your life, shield over your head. you recognized the dragon classified in the nonlethal class, not the worst but still could do serious damage if it wanted to. And right now, it seemed like it wanted to. It was chasing you much more vigorously than it had with the others. No doubt it had finally catching a whiff of you.

Everyone noticed how crazed it suddenly turned, now it was their turn to cower in the corner while you fought it off.

“come on knock it out” you heard commander Kim yell over the flapping of wings, “ bang his head with your shield.”

Easier said than done if you lift the armor away from your face for a second the dragon wouldn't hesitate in attacking. Was there a way you could subdue it as you have done to the night fury? there must be, your heart wouldn't be able to take it if you injured another one of them. 

“lookout !!” you heard someone shout before a weight slammed on top of you, squshing you to the floor with its body. you looked up in surprise only to see Minho’s the culprit. Right, where your body was a second ago was now a molten hole, magma dripping down from it like pudding.

He got off you and slammed the shield in his hand roughly to the dragon now laying dazed on the ground. He let out his breaths in deep heaves, and you’ve got to admit, he looked attractive like this, dressed in his armor, out of breath with beads of sweat clinging to him. you mentally shook those thoughts away. This was no time to appreciate his physical appearance when his sole purpose of helping was probably to take the glory away from you.

A palm was offered to you. You would've taken it if it wasn't attached to the person that pushed you to the floor in the first place. You pushed his hand away and got up yourself. What's up with him? he helped you out when you passed out earlier only for him to make fun of you for doing so, then comes around acting like nothing happened only to push you out of harm's way and saved you from getting burned again.

“I could've handled that myself, I don't need your help.” you brushed the dirt off of you as if that would do anything to your already soiled clothes. Minho's face fell, his hand flattered in the air before he pulled them back to his side in a fist.

“Whatever suit yourself,” he scorned, “next time why don't you run to chan when you need help.” 

What was he going on about? You had tried to be nice to him and thank him earlier when he had helped. He was the one that acted like a jerk and made fun of you. And what did chan have to do with any of this? he couldn't possibly be jealous of chan?

While you were facing your little dilemma named Lee Minho’s bipolar tendencies, commander Kim jumped down to the field and put the knocked out dragon away.

“Good job Minho,” he clapped him on the back but Minho didn't look so thrilled, avoiding your eye contact.”First rule of the battlefield: Never hesitate. Give it one second and it will not hesitate in burning you to crisps. class dismissed”

Minho was the first one out, sulky throwing off his headgear and shield to the floor as he exited the arena. why was he playing the victim here? it was your turn to scoff now and sulky leave the arena, though you had the decency of putting your gear back in its intended place.

  VI.

“Say,” you began, gathering Hyunjin’s attention from his working hands, busy mixing another concoction. “Theoretically, If I were to have to numb a dragon, would one of our numbing Potions work on them?”

That got Hyunjin’s hands to freeze in their place, question marks clear in his eyes. “Where’s this coming from?” There was a hint of suspicion waltzing behind his question. 

“Just a thought.” you shrugged nonchalantly.

He sighed but answered nonetheless, “we don’t know much about dragon anatomy but, theoretically it would probably take a shit ton of dosage to numb them than it would for us.” 

you nodded your head. “thought so.”

He dropped whatever was in his hands and faced you completely, hands leaning on the table separating you from him.“okay spill it. What did you do ?”

You weren’t surprised he asked. He knew you too well, with how often your curiosity got you in trouble and all. You contemplated telling him everything, if there was anyone you would trust to talk about what had happened to you in the past 48 hours, it would be Hyunjin. It felt wrong to keep something away from him, he was the person you shared everything with. 

Thumbs twiddling in your lap, your eyes wandered around the knicks and knacks spread out in the workplace. The tapping of Hyunjin’s fingers on the wooden surface forced your eyes to the jagged line that ran through the back of his left hand, reminding you of the time hyunjin got glass shards carved into it. It was very foolish of you to go around sniffing and picking at the ingredients around his workplace. Turns out The pretty pink liquid set up in the farthest shelf was put up there for a reason, it was poisonous and had hyunjin not slapped the bottle out of your hands reach you would’ve been poisoned to death. And had his parents not been around to put the antidote on hyunjin would’ve been one arm less or worse, dead.

You couldn’t possibly put him in harm's way again, he was too sweet and innocent for that, you would never forgive yourself if anything happened to hyunjin, you still didn’t completely forgive yourself for the scar you marred on Hyunjin’s delicate form, despite how many times he told you it was fine.

Perhaps later, once you've got your thoughts organized you would tell him, but for now, it seems like it's going to be your little dirty secret.

“Nothing.” You shrugged again. he didn't have to say it, it was written all over his face, he didn't believe you.

 “Really there's nothing. Just one of the many unanswered inquiries running through my mind.”

By the purse of his lips, you knew it bothered him that you were shrugging him off, but he dropped the issue nevertheless.

“If you say so,” he side-eyes you while he goes back to working again,” so what's new with Minho?” He slipped out so easily.

“What? Why would you bring up that spawn of the devil for?” 

“Well, you always end up talking about him anyway so I'm just cutting to the chase.” Smugness sure was a good look on him. His eyebrows quirk and that little tug that pulled one corner of his lip up would have anyone fall to their knees.

“Wha-“ you would deny it if it wasn’t true. Somehow, someway Minho slithered his way into your subconscious, permanently sitting with a crown over his head in the gold-encrusted chair he placed in your mind, playing with your thoughts, making you think about him even when he wasn't around. To be frank, you always complained about the lees in general to hyunjin, namely a certain one was mentioned more than the others, but that was only because you wanted to push him off the edge of the island..right?

“What are you getting at?”

“oh I don't know,” he hummed, his hands didn't stutter once while he spoke,” that your too stubborn to confront your feelings about him.” 

“What feelings ?” you stubbornly denied.

“See?” he deadpanned.

“Whatever.” You didn't like the heat pooling in your cheeks or the jitters convulsing your stomach. 

“Just admit it, Your so used to hating him that it has become easier for you to just go along with his weird charade of displaying his affection for you than it is to actually do something about your feelings for him.”

“What? He doesn’t like me like that. He likes making me conjure up scenarios of his slow brutal death every day though.” 

Despite your little way of deteriorating the conversation, Hyunjin’s face turned serious, “ Y/N you’re blinder than a ground mole if you think Minho doesn’t like you like that.” 

“No, he doesn’t!! He was such an ass to me yesterday!” 

“Look.. that was different Y/N. I don't really agree with his way of approach but…” he looked lost in his thoughts, searching for the right words to describe such an enigma.

“he hasn't had it easy since day one. It's not really an excuse for him to treat you the way he does but, deep down he's just a diamond in the rough, a child that's been teased since birth for being too caring. He’s too afraid of showing anything close to emotions for anyone but for some reason his act always seems to slip around you.” That had your heart stop. 

“ You didn't see the way he hurtled into here the other night with you in his arms, he himself was bleeding but he wouldn't let me touch his cuts until someone treated you first. Y/N I think your the only one that could help him.” 

Now that was surprising, you were pushed once again under the same shed of light you saw Minho in after your accident.

“Help him?” 

“Have you ever considered talking to him? Like a normal conversation where none of you would set the room on fire?” 

You have tried, you tried to talk to him on the morning of the sailing, and now that you think about it he did act differently until you were both interrupted by chan. 

The door behind hyunjin creaked open and Hyunjin’s mother popped her head out, “ Hyunjin can you— oh good morning Y/N, how are your burns healing?” 

“As perfect as the rest of me.” You replied sarcastically, thankful for the interruption.

“Cheeky as always I see,” she chuckled, “I need to steal hyunjin for a bit, we need an extra hand in the back.” 

“Yeah, I was leaving anyway. Dragon training starts soon.” Saved by mother Hwang, you couldn't thank her enough for it. 

“Be careful out there. I heard the training can get pretty wild.” 

Images of Minho pressed up against you on the floor flashes before your eyes. That was not what she meant, THAT WAS NOT WHAT SHE MEANT. 

You shook your head, “ yeah..” 

A shrill sound pierced the air, making all three of you jump. “Oh boy, hyunjin, come quickly, help me pick up the cauldron from the fire before it starts spilling everywhere.” 

“Think about what I said.” He noted quickly at you before he followed his mother back into the room where they worked most of their magic.

He was right. Hyunjin was always right. But you had other pressing matters than pouting around and pondering over unsaid feelings.  

VII. 

Second day of training did not go the way you imagined it too. 

Sure today you were, once again, locked in the arena with everyone else, a new dragon unleashed, freely soaring around you. But what was different was a certain brunette that stayed quiet for the first time since he was born. 

It was a breath of fresh air. Nothing nagging you,  floating around you, buzzing in your ear like a fly. But it was disorienting. Was he upset over the first class? 

Whatever, you didn't do anything wrong, you didn't ask of him to save you. you didn't ask for anything but here you are.

Today’s session didn't last long. whilst others were greedily fighting for who gets the victorious title of defeating the dragon today, You did try to act as if you were actually trying to fight the dragon, but then went to the same spot you were just a mere 24 hours ago. Commander Kim yelled at you the same way he did yesterday and you had turned a blind eye to him. 

You were stuck in limbo. For one, if you don’t show an effort in learning, it will reach your father’s ears once he comes back and you don't think you’ll be able to handle him looking at you with disappointment dripping off of his entire being. But two, you weren't sure that fighting dragons was the right thing to do anymore, the night fury has planted new speculations in your mind, maybe the gods created both dragons and humans to live cohesively in harmony. Maybe you've all just had it wrong. Maybe you could do something to change how everyone's mind.

And three, Minho's silence was deafening. Why just why did you have to live next to each other? Every day, after each lesson, the both of you would have to take the same path to go back to your own respectful homes, albeit you don't stand next to each other, one of you would be ahead of the other, mostly you- unknown to you that the boy let you lead because he wanted to keep a protective eye on you.- god forbid you get seen walking with him, that would be the end of the world. 

“Have you ever considered talking to him? Like a normal conversation where none of you would set the room on fire?” 

This time, you were the one left staring at his backside while he treaded up the road. Not a single cheeky remark said. Thoughts of starting up a conversation with him skipped your mind, but what would you say? Thank you once again for saving me yesterday? Why did you insist on having me treated first? Why’re you such an ass? 

A white ball of fur jumped at the feet of the boy in front of you. Unlike your startled self, Minho's face sported a soft smile, one you had never seen, one you didn’t know he could sport.

He crouched down to be on the same level of the pretty snow white feline basically throwing itself on him. Nimble fingers rubbed the back of the cat's ears, pulling a loud purr out of it. 

He looked so small crouching down next to it, smile still painted on his face. Did he know you were behind him? Probably not because you've never seen him like this, and by the way the feline trusted him he must’ve been doing this for a while.

“What have you been feeding it, young man? She won't eat any of the food I give her anymore.” An old lady, you recognized her as the local chef’s wife, scolded Minho, a playful lilt in her voice.

He giggled. 

He giggled.

“Mrs.whiskers likes your husband’s smoked tuna did you know that?” 

Oh no, no no. Who allowed your heart to skip a beat it the sound of his chuckle. No, it was probably a heat stroke or something, you're already exhausted from standing still and doing nothing in the arena, it was probably the heat getting to you. 

You hurried off past Minho, not listing to the rest of the conversation, and turned left, at where the path leads you to the hidden dragon buried deep in the forest, passing both of your houses on the way, earning a Quizzical stare from Minho on your retreating form.

You had snuck a couple of numbing potions after Hyunjin disappeared behind the closed door, your homemade sewing kit stashed next to it in your brown leather bag, a couple of fishes thrown in there too, to persuade the dragon on letting you stitch him incase he let you.

You were determined to fix things, or else you would quite possibly disintegrate from the heavy feeling in your chest. 

This time, you gracefully slid down the slope instead of tumbling down it. You had peaked through the veins to catch a glimpse, and what you saw shriveled your heartstrings. 

The dragon let out an annoyed groan as he once again fell to the ground after failing to catch his balance once in the air. It kept repeating, landing, getting up, spreading its wing, shaking its tail once before leaping into the air only for it to not catch drag and slam back down into the ground once more.

Its head suddenly whipped towards you, the same annoyed growl was heard and you wondered again if you should've brought someone with you. Or...maybe even Minho as he seemed keen on breaking the mold you had set for him.

Nope. Not going to think about him.

Running viciously at you with its teeth bared and a heart stoping screech, unleashing its wrath on you, was what you expected the dragon to do, instead it let out a burst of flames to the ground in front of him successfully charring the grass, with its wing it put out the fire than laid upon it. Its back facing you. 

So it held a grudge against you. That's...not what you expected. Not that it shouldn't hate you but that a so-called ruthless beast could show such human-like emotions. 

You slowly neared it, calling to it as you did. 

“Hey..uhh harmless creature,” it didn’t respond.

“Umm, it's me. uh Again.” It let out a huff at that, chest moving up and down violently.

“... I know you probably hate me, a-and I don't blame you for that,” you stuttered,” but I might be able to help you.” 

Its ears flipped backward, it was listening. You had its attention. 

“I have a proposition for you.” You laid down your satchel and took out the fish. A sliver of a movement of its tail told you it had caught a whiff. You whipped the fish around to let the wind carry the scent to him.

“If you lay still and snack on what I brought you without jumping me this time, I will fix your wing.” wide beady eyes stared at you, it tilted its head to one side, just like how a dog would do to look at you better. if you had seen it do this a couple of days ago you would of pissed your pants, but strangely enough, you found it enchanting now.

it fully turned to you now, nose sniffing the fish still dangling in your hand, but it didn't move any closer.

you throw the fish in your hand in front of him alongside the others you had in your satchel. still as a rock, it didn't move, eyes fixated on you.

“go ahead, I didn't poison them.”  but you did dose them heavily in some of the numbing potions you got. They were scent and tasteless so hopefully, the dragon wouldn't sniff or taste anything weird. 

At that it lunged at the food, letting you peacefully walk to his side. 

Its injured wing was as it was yesterday, pulled close to its body. 

“Buddy, you're going to have to spread your wing.” you tapped his wing softly.

it stopped munching for a second but complied in the next. so it was starting to trust you.

 you took what was left of the potions you had in your bag and poured it gently onto the angry open wound, It was just a precaution, for you and for the dragon. you wouldn't want it to slap you with its boney wings and possibly break one of yours. with one bat you would be thrown like a rag doll across the meadow field.

It didn't seem to react to the liquid touching him, except for a tiny twitch of his underlying muscles, so you did your first puncher with the needle. It was way harder to puncher through the thick layers of muscles and scaly skin than it was with normal leather.

And as you had expected, upon the incision, its tail twitched from its previous serenity and struck you in the face with such force that had you thrown to the ground behind. 

“ouch, that was surely going to leave a bruise.’” It looked at you accusingly, hurt shining in his eyes.

“look, it pains me just as much as you, but if you want to fly again, this might be the only solution!”

it was a hassle but after another round of one-sided verbal negotiation, a row of neat stitches decorated his left wing. “now I would tell you not to move around much but-” you couldn't finish your sentence as it had stubbornly tried to take flight, it did for a hot minute until a couple of the stitchings tore.

It looked at you with pleading eyes once it was back on the ground.

“come here, you big oaf.”

After you had repaired the stitches, the dragon had yet to move from your side. You dared to pet its head and it let you, closing its eyes and leaning towards your touch, smooth leather skidding under your touch, soft purs rippling out of him.

you closed your own eyes, resting beneath the tree, shading in it, letting your thoughts wander and finally puzzle the pieces together.

it was as you suspected, dragons weren't that bad.But the question now was, what are you going to do with this new piece of information? This town had fought years after years and gave birth to generations of dragon warriors. It was your island legacy, their creed, to kill dragons. How were you, an overlooked human, supposed to convince them of what their thick skulls would never want to accept? 

You looked at the dragon resting peacefully next to you.

“How can I save you?”

VIII.

“whats wrong with your face?” is the first thing you hear come out of Minho's mouth after his whole devotion to being silent as a monk around you.

The blue and purple hues staining your cheek was not something you could hide with your hair, it was on display for everyone, but that dipshit didn't have to announce it to everyone in 10 meters ratio.

You glared at him, couldn't he have phrased it nicer? who were you kidding, this is Lee Minho you were talking about, he's either as smooth as the butter you spread on your rockhard biscuits or as rude and grumpy as the old fisherman's wife living down by the bay.

“I punched myself so I wouldn't have to see your face. But oh here you are.”

He tsked, he was genuinely worried about you, if it wasn't for that he wouldn't have broken his silent treatment with you.

With that, he turned the other way to hid the pout pulling his lips down in obvious disdain, albeit you caught sight of it, and god damn your heart for leaping at such sight.

Were you too mean?

you were starting to get a headache from all the thinking so you decided to stop and focus on your lesson, and by focus, you meant to think of ways to avoid engaging in the ruthless practice.

to say the next couple of days were eventful would be a lie, Minho kept ignoring you and you kept going to the forest after each lesson to play with the dragon, who you playfully decided to name starlight- it was the first time you caught sight of him on a starry night. plus it wouldn't agree to be called anything else, you kept calling it by different names but it only responded to starlight.

Everything was going swell, except for the fact that you had the most wanted dragon as a pet and that you missed Minho. You missed hearing his annoying voice, you don't miss his rude remarks but you miss playfully bantering with him. He doesn't look like he's doing well with dark bags stitched to his under eyes and stress lines forming way too early for his age. Dare you say you were worried for him. But you decided not to interfere, for now.

You could notice the stares of the people around you, eyeing your ever-accumulating marks and bruises decorating your body. You couldn't do anything about the ones that your clothes cant hide. Starlight likes to play rough and the other scratches are from your clumsy self. Questions were bound to be asked and you weren't sure what the answers should be.

By now it was nearing the deadline of your father's voyage and your training, Minho was looking worse by the second, he looked as if he was forced to sleep with a dragon in the same cave.

“Alright soon to be Vikings gather up.” commander Kim announced, gathering everyone's divided attention from staring at the large, tall wooden walls placed in the usually empty arena, forming a maze of sorts. “Today we’re doing something different, you are to pair up in twos and go into the maze. In there somewhere are eggs stashed away, guarded by some obstacles. First team to get out with three eggs wins. easy right?”

You noticed some of the girls standing next to you ogle at Minho, no doubt thinking of throwing themselves on him in a chance of becoming his partner. You would think the girls would know better than to pair up with him as he would be as useless as his twin brothers brains, but you guess those girls just might share the same brain.

“Minho, Y/N you're together. The rest are free to choose,” he announced oh so casually as if he and the others haven't noticed yours and Minho’s lethal relationship.

“What?!” you both exclaimed, sharing a look. “That's unfair!! -”

Commander Kim raised his palm up, shutting you up “You're both too busy bickering at each other to fight the actual enemy here.” you begged to differ, dragons weren't the enemy” you have got to trust each other. It's the golden rule.”

“I’d rather go in by myself.”

“I second that,” but Minho didn't sound as opposed.

“No, what I say goes.” he refused again “now get on with it before I tie the both of you together.”

you sighed, there was nothing you can do about it, the sooner you get it done with, the faster you can go and hang around your new pet.

Minho was as quiet as ever so you took the lead for once and talked. “let's get this over with quickly, I’ll get the egg and you keep an eye out for me, no tricks no games.”

he nodded lethargically, eyes darker than his usual bright brown ones.

once the horns announced the start of the game, both of you sprinted inside. Large walls caged you in a foggy mist, you could barely see your hand. This wasn't good, you might separate from Minho and get lost. Blindly you reached for where you last saw Minho, your fingers touched the familiar cool metal plates that cover his chest, you slid it down until you found his hand.

“what are you doing?” he whispered.

“so we don't get lost” Thank Thor that it was misty and the scarlet tinge coloring your cheeks couldn't be seen.

“lead the way.” you gestured with you interwind hands. he took the liberty of interlacing your fingers, firmly squeezing your hand in his. Had you not known it was your hand in his you might have thought it was your heart with the way It was pumping so weirdly.

Sightless, you both relied on your sense of touch and hearing for this task. Your hands guiding you away from any dead ends, ears listening for any unwanted visitors.

you stubbed your foot against a rough object which caused it to roll away. An egg !!

“There's one here! “you squeezed Minho’s hand, gesturing to where you heard it roll. Slowly you unlace your hand from his, to grab the golden egg and shove it in the pouch you were given.

“okay that was too easy-” you should've kept your mouth shut for the sudden gust of wind hovering over the back of your necks made both of your bodies turn rigged, your hand sneaking back into Minho’s wordlessly.

Simultaneously, another team bumps into your backs, bringing with them another dragon. Upon collision, the other team's egg fell from their hand and rolled next to your feet. You took it, quickly stashing it in your pouch. Leaving the only problem now is to escape this trap, find one more egg than get the hell out of here.

“don't move,” Minho whispered. Dragons have blind spots, hiding in them could eventually lead to losing the dragon's track.

The boy on the other team scoffed, recognizing Minho's voice “as if id take advice from you.” and made the first move. Colossal mistake, now he had both of the dragon's attention pointed at him. A disadvantage for him but an advantage for you. 

You and Minho took off running away from the pair, letting them deal with their foolish act.

Eventually, you reach a part where the fog doesn't hang so thick in the air and it is safe to let go of your hands. but neither of you do.

“How many do we have?” he askes.

you hold up two fingers with a shit-eating grin. he copies yours and smiles back.

“I'm guessing we're in the eye of the maze now.” you reached a circular place, with nothing but five pathways, one of them must be the exit while the others must be where the other teams entered from.

“I'm gonna take a wild guess and say that's not it.”Minho points at one pathway that you could clearly see lightning strikes reflecting from the walls along with shrilling screams.

“Yeah, lets hurry before they come out and bring it with them.” you agreed.

All four other pathways seemed as equally suitable for the exit as each other, so you randomly chose one. The path seemed normal in the beginning but the more turns you took the darker it got. Light spilled from random crevices up above, enough for you to see Minho next to you, but not enough to illuminate what was beyond him.

you froze in your place when you felt a tug on your pouch, pulling it roughly away from you. “Did you just take the pouch?”

“What? No, why would I?”

“Well, something did.”

The sound of rummaging came from behind, causing both of you to turn around. From what your eyes could catch, the relatively small-sized blue dragon with its head in your bag was what caused the sound. It sniffed into your pouch before it pulled the pouch with its mouth to a corner where you noticed a third egg sat. You recognized the dragon immediately, body going in full flight mode.

“That tiny thing is what took it?” Minho mocked, already making his way to the dragon.

“Minho NO, it's more dangerous then it looks,” you pulled back on his hand. This type of dragons were known for their razor-sharp poison-filled spikes and speed.

“It's fine. It's small. We’ll just grab the pouch and pounce.” He advanced as he talked, making it dangerously close to the dragon.

“No Minho one sting from it and you'll be-“ you don’t get to finish your sentence as you push Minho with all your strength out of the way of the flying spike. The spike hit the wall behind you, inches from where he stood “ -Paralyzed.” You finish, out of breath.

The small dragon, now aggravated, was ready to strike at the both of you again but it sensed oncoming visitors. You looked at where its beady red eyes were staring and vaguely saw shadows that resembled a human’s.

Distracted, Minho made the brave choice to run to your pouch, stuff the third egg in, and as he so kindly phrased it pounced away. Dragging you by the hand with him.

“RUN!”

You had hoped the dragon would go after the new guests that arrived, but it didn’t seem to appreciate you taking its eggs. You felt a weight cling onto your back and force you down to the floor, unwillingly removing your hand from Minho's grip.

Before you could even react Minho had flung the pouch at the dragon with such vigor that you were sure the thud it made rang through the whole arena. He helped haul you up quite easily that you for a second forgot how much you weight, were you that light or was Minho always been this strong?

The dragon swayed from side to side, shaking its head a couple of times as it did. Before it could gain its senses again, both you and Minho were out of sight.

After multiple run-ins to walls- and to each other- endless twists and turns, you finally see the light. Just a couple of steps more and you will be out of this maze.

 You make it one foot out but something pulls Minho back inside, linked hands dragging you back with him.

“Minho!”

The same spiked dragon was on his back. Quite literally. It had its claws dug into his armor, pulling Minho backward into the maze, it's tail ready to sting Minho's neck.

It was time to choose, you either spare the dragon and let Minho get hurt. Or hurt the dragon in order to save Minho. Both options sucked, but maybe…

It’s a lucky guess. You had accidentally discovered this one time when you were fooling around with starlight,  there was no assurance it would work on other types of dragons, but if it did it would save both of them from getting harmed.

It was now or never. Before you could back out, you reached your hand under the dragon's sharp teethed mouth and scratched the thick calloused skin on its chin. It instantly unclawed Minho, grip going lax, eyes slowly closing, head leaning into your touched until it fell to the ground, completely paralyzed and in bliss.

Minho was too busy heaving on both his hands and knees to speak.

“Are you okay? Did it sting you?”

He shook his head, not sure what question he was answering but the lack of a hole in his neck reassured you. He looked back at the dragon, surprised to find it in a daze on the floor. He didn’t have to ask, you could read the questions all over his face. How did you do that? But you quickly dragged him up and out the maze, not letting him utter a word.

You didn’t like using any of the tricks you learned in front of others or in your training sessions. This was a slip-up. thankfully no one was around to see it except Minho. As much as you had prayed that the Lee’s would get eaten by a dragon you didn’tThankfully mean it.

“Congratulations! you're the first team out.” Commander Kim claps both of you on your backs, a bit too roughly.

“We make a good team,” you sheepishly said to minho, not expecting him to reply.

A smile tugged at his lips, one you had never imagined you'd see directed at you. “yeah… I guess we do.”

You were going to have to give hyunjin a visit with the way your heart was palpating so much lately. 

IX.

“Starlight I can't throw that!” the sound of your laugh echoed in the empty forest.

The pond mimicked the sunset above, reflecting the apricot haze off the water, rippling softly as you swung your feet to and fro. Pants pulled up to your knees, scratches and marks from starlight rough playing on display.

Said dragon whined and nudged at the fully grown tree that he tossed at your feet a second ago after the fragile twigs you kept throwing him kept snapping between his sharp teeth.

The dragon was almost completely healed by now, the stitches have worked, you took them out the other day and the dragon could fly again. It was a very melancholic event, you were happy it could fly again but you were going to miss hanging with him. The moment you took the last stitch out, it zoomed away without looking back, spinning and soaring in the sky.

“You're not going to say goodbye ?!”

So he came back, gave you a lick that clung to your hair and clothes and took hours to pull off of you, gave one last look with its wide green eyes, then spread its wings and flapped away, roaring happily as he did.

You may have shed a tear or two, but no one shall know.  Missing your companion, you went back the next day to the same place it has been inhabiting for the last week and a half and low and behold, and there it was drinking from the pond, waiting for you to visit.

As days go by, you slowly saw more sides of the dragon unfold as it started trusting you. Whether it be how quick-witted it was with the way he mimicked whatever he saw you do, to how goofy and puppy-like he could be with the way he would sleep upside down like a bat on a tree or spin around in circles trying to catch his own tail, All to which help solidify your thought. Dragons were not your enemy.

starlight whined again once it saw you laugh at him, “Bud, I can't just throw a tree like you!”

he turned his back on you, throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old that had his favorite toy taken away.

“Bud, come on,” you reached to pet its head but he stubbornly turned away.”I'm tiny compared to you, I don't have wings I cant fly. I don't have superhuman strength either, that's why I have you by my side.” you hugged it, trying to turn its head towards you. 

“look at you, acting like a baby, you even look the part!” you were referring to the stray tree leaves stuck between the scales on the back of his neck, no doubt from when he pulled the tree out of the ground. You climbed on his back to pluck them out, and before you knew it, your feet were no longer on the ground. Now call yourself crazy but you had always thought of riding on the back of a dragon before, wondering how it would feel to touch the clouds. But not when the dragon was playfully somersaulting mid-air, over the ocean, 50 feet above.

“STARLIGHT!! PUT ME DOWN!! BADBOY!!” you yelled, eyes glued closed out of fear. that seemed to make it sulk even more as he playfully zipped down and dipped the edges of his wings into the water before spraying you with it, making you shut your eyes even tighter.

“STARLIGHT PLEASE!!” You have anything to catch on to except his bare body which wasn't much. Your fingers were slipping from the momentum he was flying at. “ STARLIGHT IM GONNA FALL!! PLEASE PUT ME DOWN”

It stubbornly flew higher, wings heavily swifting through the air, until it broke through the first layer of clouds.  “ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! YOU’RE A GOOD BOY, YOU’RE THE BEST PET DRAGON EVER NOW PUT ME DOWN didn't.”

It was satisfied with that and flew you back down, just in time for your fingers to finally slip and lose grip. Your body bomb dives to the ground, landing all your weight on your wrist for support, causing it to twist a weird angle. 

“Ah!” Your exclaim caught the dragon's attention, seeing you in pain made him look at you all pleadingly, with dilated pupils, the same way he does whenever he knows he did something wrong.

“Starlight, you can't just do that without me knowing, I'm not like you if I had fallen from you that might have been the end of me.” 

It whined and looked at the floor, huffing out a fiery breath.  You tried to move your wrist, but it was refusing to move without any pain. 

“Great, now I'm going to have to visit hyunjin.” A sigh slips from your lips. It wasn’t like you were avoiding hyunjin…but you were avoiding him.

 The dragon before you got up and hurls to the pile of food you gave him earlier, only for him to come back with a fish in his mouth. 

A peace offering. You did the same thing to him when you first freed him from your bolt and again when you stitched him up. 

Starlight was intelligent, perceptive, a quick learner. You caught sight of him a couple of times copying whatever you were doing, be it sitting by the brinks of the pond with your legs in the water- the dragon plunged its whole tail in instead- or laying down on your back and closing your eye to take a breather. 

Sorcery is what people would say if they saw this. You have manged to tame the so allegedly accused untamable. You managed to win its trust, and with it came its whole being.

It was a very moving gesture, he felt guilty and didn't want you to be mad at him. He dropped the fish and nudged at it, begging you with his eyes.

“Oh, starlight.” You pet his head with your good hand“ I'm not mad at you, but next time do give me a heads up. I'm not like you, I don't have wings, if I plunge from a high place, I will die.”

It licked at your knotted up hair, leaving a trail of spit as he did, A bad habit he has that you have yet to teach him not to do because it made it even harder for your detangle your hair.

“Ugh, thanks bud.” You wipe the goo off your face, spraying back at him.

He helped you get up to your feet, letting you put your body weight on him. He walked you all the way up the slope you descend from to get down here, but it didn't step a foot out of place, he knew you wouldn't allow him too. It was too dangerous, you couldn’t have someone accidentally see the both of you here.

“Thanks, starlight,” with your good hand you itched behind its perked ear, right where you knew made him turn to a purring mess “Now be a good boy and stay out of sight?” 

You pulled your hand back, but starlight followed it, nudging your hand back over his head. You laughed again at him “ I’ll give you more pats tomorrow. Stay hidden, okay bud?” If it were a human being, the sulky pout would be evident on its face.

“Now go on you big baby.” he let out one last screech before it flew away. 

Its been a while since you've visited hyunjin and you've been meaning to go one of these days, but you were dreading having to answer the question you knew he would ask about the ambiguous causes of all your injuries, so you just avoided going to him, preferring to heal your wounds at home with you minimum knowledge of dressing burns and scraps. But this seemed like it might need professional attention. 

A sigh slips out again once you're in front of Hyunjin's door. Throbbing wrist in hand, throbbing headache in the process.

“I was wondering when you would stop avoiding me.” Hyunjin's snarky voice greeted you. 

Of course, he would notice. This has been the longest you’ve gone without seeing him, but you were pretty occupied with your new pet.“I...wasn’t avoiding, practice has me occupied.”

“Uh hah is that so ?” he deadpanned, stare poking holes into your soul.

“So what did i do in my past life for you to grace me with your precence?” He mocked a bow.

 “Ha ha very funny.” You held up your wrist and showed it to him. “ i fell down and sprained my wrisy.” 

“ did you fall down a hellhole or something?” he gently took hold of your hand, twisting it here and there to see what he was dealing with.

“You could say that.”  

“Lucky you, it doesn’t seem fractured, probably just trauma. Keep it wrapped and it'll be good as new in no time.” 

He brought out a cloth and started to wrap your hand firmly in it. He pushed the sleeve of your shirt up and noticed all the burn marks adorning your skin. 

“So are you going to tell me how you really sprained your hand?” Knowing you had an excuse ready on your tongue, he continued, “And why you look like our rusty thousand-year-old cauldron?” His tone was nothing like his playful one earlier. 

“Fell down the rabbit hole.”  He didn't appreciate your joke by the looks of it. His hands stopped and he looked you dead in the eye,” Y/N your really starting to worry me. Is something wrong? Is someone doing this to you? Is it Minho?”

“What?! No! No one is doing this to me.”He stayed still, gaze still holding yours, doubt shifting in them.

“Trust me. I'm fine in that regard. Minho's actually…been tolerable lately.” You didn't realize it but a smile took form upon your face and it didn't slip Hyunjin’s radar.

“What do you mean?” 

A third sigh in less than ten minutes graced your lips, but this one wasn't of exasperation. “Ever since commander Kim partnered us up for a task, Minho’s been civil with me.” 

you didn't mention the shy smiles shared between coincidental run-ins. You hadn't imagined that the smile he gave you after the game was over would grace you for the rest of the week. Whenever you would see him, you would send him a smile, and he’d give you one back. It set fire to your veins, burning your nerves- a good kinda burn, not like the ones starlight usually toasted you like a marshmallow with.

You didn't talk or anything, but it wasn't that suffocating silence either. You were tiptoeing on eggshells, not knowing whether you should be the one to talk first or not.

“Still doesn’t explain why you're all tattered up.”  He wasn't letting the subject go. Maybe now was the time for you to tell him. You trusted hyunjin. He could keep a secret. 

But just like the last time you saw him, a door opening intervened your moment. This time it being the main door of the house. You both turned to see none other than the devil himself standing there. 

Lee Minho.

Hyunjin glanced at you before looking back at Minho, noticing the small smiles that fused both of your faces.  

“Hurry up,” you mouth to hyunjin, but hyunjin being hyunjin slows down deliberately instead. If it wasn’t for how good looking he was you would’ve punched him back to the days he was a blabbering mess of gaga’s and giggles (not that he was any different now).

“What brings you here? “ hyunjin asks Minho while his hands are busy moving no faster than his brain cells over your wrist.

“Mother said you have a new batch made of that sleeping potion.” 

“Yeah, it's around the back let me bring it for you.” He looked at you, pointing an accusing finger at you “ and you, this conversation isn't over.” 

“Yeah yeah just go now.” You shoo him with your now, thankfully, fully wrapped hand.

Minho stood next to you, eyes inquisitively grazing over your injured hand.“What..” he seemed to be contemplating whether to continue asking or not but seeing as you maintained eye contact, curiosity shining in them, he gathered the courage up “what happened?” He timidly asks. 

That took both you and your heart by surprise, “I- Just tripped and fell, nothing serious.” 

He nodded and you think you hear him murmur “that's good “ under his breath but you weren't so sure with the way his head cocked downward. It was so unlike him. 

“Are you okay?” You decide to ask because the sag of his shoulders, the disheveled clothes, the unkempt hair and the circles around his eyes were getting concerningly bigger each time you saw him that he could almost rival how big starlight's eyes were. 

He looked surprised at your question. The act of you taking an interest in his well being stirred something in him, sending tingles down his fingertips. He stayed quiet for a bit, pondering on what to say. The soft sound of the clock ticking keeping your thoughts company “I’m —"

“Here you go.” Sometimes hyunjin could spout out words that could rival Plato’s, other times he was as dumb as a plank of wood. You had never wanted to shove his long pretty fingers down his throat more than now.

Unable to read the moment, you shot hyunjin a glare for interrupting Minho from finally talking to you. Wasn’t he the one always encouraging you to go and speak to him? 

Minho look disappointed too, shoulders sagging even more, a hint of dismay in his voice“ thanks.” He paid and ran away. Not looking back at you. 

“So, where were we?” Hyunjin called back at you. 

“ you know what, maybe some other time.” You followed Minho out.

“Y/N!!!”

X. 

Sniffles. 

Not yours but of some obscure figure that slipped out of the Lee residence. door closing behind them, shutting any light from slipping onto the dark shadows of the night. Sardonic laughter followed the figure out, slumping tiredly to the ground.

Your legs locked in place, lungs frozen, afraid that making a sound would disturb the figure even more. A Wizz of breeze rustled the trees behind you, turning the figure’s head in your direction, faint moonlight emphasizing the wet trail decorating Minho’s cheeks.

It was Minho. He was crying. 

Your mind came to a halt for a second, you think your heart did too. What do you do when you see someone that you not long ago wished them the most heinous way of dying looking the same way starlight did when you took away his ability to fly- tired, hopeless and scared.

upon your feet crossing the space between you and him, Minho held his palm up, stopping you in track, “ Go away,” He looked the other way, his other hand wiping whatever his thin sleeves could catch “I don’t need your pity.”

And you would have complied any other day, but the hollowness filling his eyes scared you. His deep brown eyes that would usually glimmer with a hint of mischievousness around you were gone, leaving nothing but black sinkholes. “Im not doing this out of pity.”

He didn't look your way. “I told you to go away, princess.” 

“And I told you to stop calling me princess.” 

silently you fold down beside him, not speaking, but letting him know you were here. His sniffles were the only thing breaking the silence every few seconds. He side glanced you, a sigh coming out of him seeing you stubbornly sticking by his side. He set his hands down beside him to hold his weight while he faced straight ahead, staring at the moon waving behind big dark clouds, There were no tears on his face but his eyes were red and shiny, wetness clinging onto his eyelashes, sticking them together.

You had your fair amount of silent moments with Minho, but you hated this one the most. No words were said but pain and grief lay so thick in the air you could touch it. It took no genius to know that he was getting teased, yet again, by his brothers before he stepped out of the house.

Timorously you set your hand above his, wordlessly speaking. He didn't retract his own. Instead, he aligned his palms to yours, triggering your beating organ to skip a beat.

“What's wrong?” you dare ask. That seems to set start his fountain of tears again as they clung desperately onto the tips of his lashes, lips quivering so he pressed to a tight line. He leaned on to you, laying his head on your shoulder, face hidden in your neck.

You didn't know if your heart clenching was from his crying or the proximity of him. You let him do as he pleased, hot tears dripping onto your neck, soaking your clothes. It brought tears to your own but you blinked them away, letting the wind dry them up. Your thumb rubbed circles on the back of his hands, occasionally drifting to trace over his knuckles, sharing warmth.

 His deep heaves eventually lessened to normal breathing, tears no longer dripping.“What am I supposed to tell him when he comes back?” he crooned so softly that if you weren't listing for it you would've missed it.

It took you a second to realize who he was talking about. “Your father?”

He sniffed.

“ I...dont know.” You squeezed his hand,” I wouldn’t know what to tell mine either.”

The mark of your father's return was nearing and it had you in a swirl of emotions. No doubt you would be joyed at him coming back alive, but you did not know how you would unveil your new discovery to him, Vikings have spent years upon decades slaughtering dragons, finding pleasure in it, turning it into a sick contest of masculinity and strength.

Minho’s hair tickled the side of your face, reminding you he was still there.It was warm- you were warm, despite the cold draft swifting on by. Sitting next to him, under the glinting beam of the moonlight fluttering through the clouds sent warmth down both your bodies.

“My brothers are right. I’m not worthy of the Lee family’s name.” 

That startled a reaction out of you, moving back so Minho was obliged to stop hiding in your neck. “Hey,” you called him but when he continued looking away you unlaced your hand from his, and instead held his face, gently turning it to meet your eyes, palms cupping his cheeks. “Look at me.”

“Just because they can ruthlessly skin a dragon alive and pluck its teeth out with their bare hands doesn’t make them any more worthy than you are.” You had said it with so much sincerity that it almost swayed him. It sent an unfamiliar surge of warmth roaming freely in his chest. His eyes stared into yours, shining with unshed tears. 

“Lee Minho, you’re a kind, rare soul and if anything, it's them that are unworthy of you.”  His eyes quivered, switching between your eyes and lips. You didn't know where these words were coming from, but you meant every single one of them. It might’ve taken a while for you to see it but Minho really was caring in his own way.

You didn't know what force pulled the both of you together but before any of you could wrap your minds around it, you felt Minho’s cold lips pressed on yours. Your hold on his cheeks weakened, fingers sliding down his chest, gripping onto his shirt.

After what could’ve been minutes felt like hours, he distanced himself enough to murmur, “I don't want to kill, Y/N” the way your name melted off his tongue sent a shiver down your spine, grounding you in place with his gaze, breaths tickling your lips. You were seeing and experiencing a lot of firsts, uncovering new sides of Minho. 

“Maybe…” you hesitated. Should you tell him? Could you trust him enough to know that he won't take advantage of knowing where starlight likes to hide at night and run back to tell his father in an attempt of redemption? You would be giving the perfect salvation plan.

“Maybe we don't have too.” You pulled away, standing up with your hand outstretched to him. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

 It was a huge leap of faith, trusting a Lee. But if Minho bawling his eyes out in the middle of the night over not wanting to slaughter dragons wasn’t enough of an indication of how different Minho was to them then you really were as blind and as thick-headed as a ground mole.

[my-fanfic-soul]

No Need to Regret: Chapter 27

From the Beginning

Being in London with Niall still felt like a dream. That first night had started the process of my emotional tank refilling. I hadn’t realized just how empty it had become.  I was so drained but everything about being here was helping me recover.

We had all walked down to a local fish and chip shop for dinner, Olivia’s hand laced through mine and Bethany chattering about what she knew about British history through what she had learned in school. Niall had looked so at ease, his hand occasionally reaching up to brush against my lower back. Every time we went to cross a street, his hand went up almost protectively, and it wasn’t just for me. He wouldn’t let the kids go until he was certain the cars were going to stop or pass us by.

At the shop, he had belly laughed when Olivia had made the realization that chips were french fries, not potato chips and he had bantered playfully with Ethan over where the appropriate place to put ketchup on fries was. He was good natured in his loss when the shop owner took Ethan’s side, even as Ethan and Olivia teased him mercilessly.

On the way back to his flat, though, was when my heart had really started to feel the effect of what this trip would do for me. The sun had gone down and the temperatures had dropped. My siblings weren’t used to it being cold in March and Beth was wearing a thin jacket. When she shivered, Niall didn’t even seem to think about it before he was slipping out of his own coat and handing it over to my little sister. We were still fifteen minutes from his house and he didn’t complain once about being cold. He didn’t make a comment about her needing to remember to bring a better one next time.

How did I manage to find someone like him?

We have fallen into a comfortable schedule for while we’re here. Niall wakes up and goes down to the gym while I shower and get dressed. By the time he gets back, I’ve woken up the kids and started the process of getting everyone fed and getting ready for the day. While he has work commitments in the morning, my siblings and I head out to see some of the more touristy parts of London.

The afternoons are spent with Niall. On Saturday he had taken us to a museum, Sunday we relaxed in a park while he passed a soccer ball back and forth with Ethan and Olivia, Monday we had all gone to see a movie together, and Tuesday we took a trip to Windsor. In the evenings we would make dinner in his kitchen and he would do things like play video games with Ethan or teach all of us how to play poker, minus the money part of it. It was easy to focus on the good moments and look past the moments where Ethan whined because we were going somewhere he didn’t care about, Olivia whined about her feet hurting, or Bethany whined because the other two weren’t getting in trouble for whining.

There were so many more good moments than bad.

It was easy for my mind to wander, to imagine this as life all the time. The practical part of me knew it wasn’t possible, the kids were normally with dad and Niall is gone so often-- this is more of a tease than anything else. But the bittersweet feeling of knowing that there was a potential out there in the world for my younger siblings to know a good life, a life full of love and attention, was a near constant presence.

Our schedule on Wednesday was completely thrown off from the moment I woke up, though. Instead of waking up to Niall slipping out the door of his bedroom in his workout clothes, I woke up to fingers tracing down my neck and a gorgeous, blue eyed Irishman staring at me lovingly.

“Happy birthday, Kendra,” he whispered softly before peppering my cheeks, forehead, and finally lips in soft kisses.

I closed my eyes again and stretched, groggy and surprised by the greeting but pleased. “Thank you,” I murmured, my voice deep with sleep as I caught his lips with mine. He grinned, his hand sliding from my neck, down my shoulder and my side to rest at my hip. He squeezed gently and swallowed the soft moan that escaped my lips. As wonderful as it was having my family here getting to truly know Niall, I was trying to calculate how long we had before they woke up if we stayed quiet.

“None of that,” he whispered. “The kids are already awake and making breakfast.”

Every trace of tiredness evaporated immediately as I opened my eyes to give him an exasperated look and started to sit up, pushing the blankets off of me as I went. “You left them alone in the kitchen? Bethany burns cereal!”

A swift kiss put a halt to my attempts to get up. “Don’t worry so much, they’re fine. I’m doing the hard part; they’re just washing fruit and getting all the ingredients together. They love you, they wanted to do something special for you.”

“As much as I’m enjoying the kissing--” another one was planted on my lips for the compliment, “Don’t you think you should get back in there before one of them finds their ambition and burns this entire flat to a crisp?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were awake and let you know that you need to go ahead and shower. I’ve got a busy day planned for you, birthday girl.”

I sat up at that. “Don’t you have work this morning?”

His mischievous grin made my insides melt. “I rearranged some things.”

My brain was waking up now and making better sense of what he was saying. “Wait. You’re telling me you woke them up this morning, early, and they all just cheerfully went to make my breakfast?”

“No, they knew the plan.”

“When did you have a chance to plan this with three kids?”

He kissed me gently as he grabbed my hands and pulled me out of bed. “Now, darling. A man should never share his secrets. Go shower. Take all the time you need to do your hair. I’ve got breakfast and the kids covered and a full day of exploring London with you.”

“What are you…”

“Go.”

I wanted all of the details, but the draw of the shower was stronger. One thing I had learned to appreciate about Niall’s flat was his water pressure. It was a thing of true beauty and I stood using all of his hot water for as long as I could stand it, washing and conditioning my hair. Leisurely stealing his expensive soap. Allowing the stream of water to massage out the pleasant exhaustion Niall assured me was normal for a vacation.

I’d sleep on a thin mattress full of nothing but feathers if it meant I got to use that shower every day.

There was a crashing sound from the kitchen as I finally stepped out and I almost rushed to see what had broken but paused at the sound of deep laughter. He was spoiling me in ways I never could have imagined. It was a relief to be able to pick up a hair dryer and take time brushing out my hair knowing there was another adult who had it handled.

When I finally joined them there was flour all over the counters, stray raspberries scattered across the floor, and four grinning faces greeting me. “Happy birthday!” they chorused together before my younger siblings attacked me with hugs.

“No cake,” Niall said, holding out a plate in front of him. “But we made you waffles with all of your favorite toppings.” Sure enough, there were thick waffles with syrup, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and raspberries on top-- completed with a single candle.

“I told him that if we put all 21 candles on it, we might set off the fire alarm,” Ethan teased. I pushed his head playfully and he grinned again.

Even with Niall leading them, there still managed to be six different keys between the four of them for singing happy birthday to me, and they ended in three different places, but I couldn’t get the smile off my face. It was by far the best birthday I’d ever had and it was only the morning. Behind the residual smoke from my single candle being blown out, Niall’s glowing face promised a day that I’d never forget.

---

And how could I? He had planned everything out perfectly with my interests in mind. He remembered conversations I would have never thought to hold onto. He thought of everything and expected no work on my part from beginning to end.

Breakfast was homemade waffles made to perfection with scrambled eggs and sausages that I watched Ethan scarf down as fast as he could. He participated in a video chat with each of my siblings still in the States so they could all wish me a happy birthday, as well. He took charge of cleaning up and directing the kids on what to do to streamline everything. Once he and the kids were dressed, he ushered us out the door and down to the car.

“Where are we going?” Ethan asked as he crawled into the back with his sisters.

Niall shook his head, “Does no one in this family enjoy a good surprise?”

“No,” all three kids chorused together.

“Get used to it.”

Traffic was as hectic as ever but we eventually made it to a parking garage in London near all the tourist attractions. “Won’t you be recognized?” I asked nervously as we all piled out of the car. Niall pulled on a ball cap and gestured to his nondescript clothing. “I really hate to break it to you, but you’re no less gorgeous dressed like a frat boy than you are when you’re standing on a stage in skinny jeans.”

Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

“As long as we’re moving, I should be fine.”

We walked for nearly ten minutes, keeping the kids close to us, Niall’s hand firmly gripping both mine and Olivia’s. Seeing him so protective of all of us did things to me. When I saw where we were headed, I couldn’t help the smile that was starting to hurt after half a week of it being nearly constant.

“The Tower of London?” I asked and he nodded. It had already been on our agenda for today and Niall had remembered, even though I hadn’t been detailing our plans to him much before the day of. I had mentioned it a few weeks ago, in passing, that it was the plan for the morning of my birthday.

He wasn’t playing around, either. We were met near the start of the line by a woman who introduced herself as our guide. He had arranged a privately guided tour for all five of us, allowing plenty of time for me to absorb every detail that I wanted.

And we did. Between the four Americans, we kept her on her toes asking questions and looking at everything we could. Niall kept track of Livy so I wouldn’t have to worry constantly about where she was. Ethan and Bethany did their part to not wander too far away and only squabbled a little, which I still had to manage but I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my morning.

When we were done, we wandered down the street towards a sandwich shop and I got my next surprise in the form of a familiar face. “Mark!” He wrapped me up in a friendly hug with a happy birthday. “I thought you’d be spending time with your family, not slumming it in London on your break.”

“My family’s in the city while I’m here. Don’t worry about me.” Niall introduced him to my younger siblings and Mark joined us in the shop for lunch.

When we were done, Mark took the kids back up to the counter to buy sweets and Niall turned to me with nervousness in his eyes for the first time this trip. “Mark’s actually here for a reason. I want your trip to be special and today to be all about you. I want the rest of the day to be just you and me.”

My heart squeezed in my chest. I wanted that, too, but… “Niall, the kids. We can’t just leave them to their own devices, even at the flat. It’s not right.”

“I know, I thought about that. That’s why Mark’s here. If you’re comfortable with it, Mark has agreed to take the kids for the rest of the day. I figured you’d be happier if it was someone you knew and trusted.”

“But, his time with his family…”

“They have their own stuff today.”

I sigh, wanting so desperately to give in because I want it, too. Time with just Niall outside the moments we stole before we fall asleep at night seemed like a dream. When they came back to the table, I laid it out on the table for them. “Are y’all comfortable spending the rest of the day with Mark?”

Ethan, predictably, eagerly agreed. He was convinced the man was more than he let on and had been asking about exercise in ways that implied he believed Mark had killed a man. Nothing was cooler to a twelve year old boy. Bethany nodded her own agreement, seeming unconcerned with the plan. “You and Niall need some time to do whatever it is adults do in this city.”

Livy was the only hold out. She glanced nervously between me and Mark. Abandonment issues were a real and constant thing with her these days and I couldn’t blame her. If she said no, I’d tell Niall we needed to reevaluate the plans. But she quietly asked, “Are you coming back tonight?”

“Yes,” Niall assured her. “And if you’re asleep before we get back, I’ll make sure she goes and wakes you up long enough to know she’s home.”

She chewed the inside of her lip and asked, “Will Bethany be there all day?”

“Absolutely,” I tell her, wanting to touch her, reassure her. It’s hard to give her the space she needs to make decisions on her own in an attempt to prevent any more codependency issues. My first instinct is to make everything better for her and it’s hard to let that go.

Finally, she nodded. “I’ll go with Mark.”

It was huge for her, but I couldn’t make a big deal about it without making her take another three steps back so I settled for smiling at her and assuring her that Mark was very nice and that I knew him well from his time in Texas and when I had visited the band.

It’s still hard watching them walk away and back towards Niall’s car, which he gave Mark the keys for. “I’ve got a service picking us up tonight,” he explained when I questioned it. “Mark hasn’t got a car big enough for all four of them.”

I set my shoulders and smiled up at him. “So, what’s on the plans for an adult’s afternoon?”

He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and steered me down the street. “We’re gonna take a little stroll before our next tour.”

I glanced up at him, taking in his relaxed features. He was happy, content. Well rested even though I knew tour was exhausting for all of them already, and this had only been the first leg. “I bet it’s boring playing tourist in a city you already know so well.”

“I’d play tourist in Mullingar if it meant I got to spend the day with you,” he replied easily. “Besides, I don’t get many opportunities to explore London like this. It’s nice to be a tourist, again.”

“You do nothing but travel.”

“Ken, you’ve been with me on tour before. There aren’t many opportunities to get out and see the sights. Last year they had to put us in a bread van just to get us out of a hotel to go see the Christ the Redeemer statue in Brazil. It doesn’t exactly allow for taking pictures in front of pretty buildings.”

We walked quietly while I wrapped my head around having to sit in a delivery van in order to leave my hotel. Things had been hectic when I had visited him on tour, but it had never been that bad. “How is it that you have to hide to leave a hotel, but you can walk through London without any problems? Why do we need two security guards to go around New York, but I haven’t even seen Howie since we got here?”

Niall kicked a coffee cup out of our way, keeping his head down as we moved. “It’s different when we’re supposed to be somewhere. When they can anticipate us leaving an airport or showing up to a venue, that’s when it’s the worst. And some countries have fewer restrictions on what the paps are allowed to do and that makes it inherently more dangerous. When we’re off, it’s easier to blend in.”

I looked around, taking in the blend of modern buildings with older ones mixed in, like they had forgotten them when they were cleaning the streets. It spoke to the nature of London as a whole, tradition laced into a fast paced, modern world. “Do you ever wish you could go back and do the normal tourist thing? Just walk down the street, taking pictures of obscure trellises without worrying about ending up in next week’s magazine print?”

“More often than you know.”

We rounded a corner and Niall led me up to a modern building. “What are we doing here?” I asked skeptically. Modern anything was more his taste than mine and so far the entire day had been geared towards my interests and likes. I was trying to not feel selfish, but this had been his idea of a birthday gift for me.

“Just trust me,” he urged me, gave me a soft kiss, and pushed the doors open for me.

 Niall:

If I could spend every day watching the way Keni’s eyes light up in the face of historical information, I’d die the happiest man on Earth.

When I led her down to the basement, she’d given me a funny look and said, “You do realize you’re famous, right? People are going to know it was you if you kill me in a basement.”

“If I was going to kill you, don’t you think I would have done it back in the woods in Texas? Just trust me.” Fact was, I was nervous. This hadn’t been on her list of things she wanted to do while she was here. Nothing about the rest of our day was something she had wanted to do, but I was ready to shit myself with anxious hope that she’d love it anyway.

Either I knew her, or I didn’t, but I was sure she’d love her surprise.

The moment she saw where I’d brought her, she was speechless and I knew I’d been right. It filled me with a certain amount of pride when she looked at me with glowing eyes. “I didn’t even know this was here,” she told me, gesturing at the sign declaring that it was the Billingsgate Roman House & Baths remains.

My girl likes old things, and I’m here to provide.

“I didn’t either until I started planning for your birthday,” I confess. “I know it’s not a castle, but I thought you’d enjoy it, nonetheless.”

“It’s perfect.”

She nearly hugged our guide when she learned that taking photos wasn’t prohibited inside, as long as she didn’t use flash. But best of all was the soft “Oh!” she uttered and the wonder that filled her eyes as she looked at the 2,000 year old remains for the first time. It just looked like a collection of dirt and rubble to me, but I would have bought her an entire excavation site just to see that look on her face for one minute longer.

Drugs had nothing on the way she made me feel.

It wasn’t that I found the tour to be boring, because it really was full of information on London when the Roman’s still had control here and the way the bath house worked, but I didn’t find it interesting in the way Keni did. She asked questions constantly, her eyes taking in details that I would have ignored completely. She asked questions about social structure that even with a textbook in front of me, I wouldn’t have thought to ask.

Watching her mind work was as attractive as watching her clothes come off.

She was beside herself with giddiness an hour later when we made our way back up to ground level. “I can’t believe that it was in such good condition! Just… there. Right below London. It’s amazing! Who could even imagine?”

She could, if she gave herself enough credit. The thought made me smile as I looked at her fondly. “Well, we’re not done here, yet. Do you see that church door?” I ask, pointing up a walking path. Her lips purse as she nods. “Walk up that way.”

For a girl who had just joked about me killing her in a basement, she was awfully trusting. She didn’t even hesitate as she walked up towards what looked like a church building. I kept close enough that I could hear her gasp when she got her first glimpse at the church ruins. “Oh, they’re magnificent!” she breathed. “I would have never thought to look back here. And with all those business offices all over the place…”

“I know. It’s an oasis. Keep walking, there’s a gate up here.”

“We can go in?!”

I grinned at her and her face positively glowed with light as she rushed up the path. I followed behind her, watching her explore among the ruins and the ivy. “The church was ancient,” I told her as her fingers brushed along a window frame. “I don’t know much about the history, but it was bombed during the Blitz. The church of England made the decision not to rebuild it and at some point, they decided to turn it into a public garden.”

“Our government would have just torn it down.”

I chuckled, watching as she nearly tripped over a paving stone as she stared up at a higher window. “Don’t start thinking too highly of the British. There was plenty of that, too. But these walls have stood for a thousand years, why tear them down now?”

But she wasn’t paying attention anymore, her focus was on the ruins surrounding us.

She was too beautiful for words and I couldn’t help myself. While she was distracted wandering around, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started taking pictures of her. The wonder in her eyes. The way her hair blew lightly in the wind. Framed in doorways. Through what was left of a window. I could see her mind working, imagining what it had looked like. How the stain glass would have looked. The way people would have walked through the doors for centuries, looking for faith in faithless times.

I had pieced together Keni’s love of history bit by bit over time, through conversations and other pieces of her life that I knew about. Her working in a museum and her fascination with Greek Mythology had been the most obvious, but there had been more. When we talked, she always had random bits of trivia for a lot of the places I was traveling to. She watched documentaries fairly often on Netflix and the majority were history related. She had never met a museum she didn’t love and when she was planning this trip, she had been the most excited for the tours of all of the historic places in the area.

It wasn’t hard, if you were paying attention.

I’m glad that I was because I can tell how much she’s loving this. I was worried that I was trying to shove too much into one day, but we needed this. She needed this; being able to enjoy the history of a place without worrying about how bored Ethan was or if Liv had wandered off or if Bethany was starting to get hangry.

We’re both going to be exhausted but it’s worth it to experience what it would be like if we could travel together.

Keni was reluctant to leave, but I had another surprise up my sleeve, more that I thought she needed to see. More that I wanted to show her. 

 “You really love this sort of thing, don’t you? History and all of that.” We were plodding our way down a sidewalk, hand in hand, towards the street. She had just trailed off from talking about what the buildings that were still standing had seen.

“History, culture, how people live and used to live… It’s always been a passion of mine. Getting that job in the museum was like a dream come true. Where are we going, now?”

I gently nudged her and pulled her back against my side. “Have I supplied any clues so far today?”

“No.”

“And did you like it all, anyway?”

“Please? A clue?”

I shook my head and gestured to the car with a business emblem on a sticker in the windshield pulling up onto the side street. “We’re getting in this car.” She turned wide eyes to me and I chuckled. “It’s a car service. They’re supposed to be picking us up, Keni.”

“I think you’re trying to get me killed.”

Opening the door for her, I grinned. “That’s not a very good birthday present, is it?”

The glare she gave me before she slid into the backseat of the car held no heat and yet it sent heated desire through me. I was starting to think that she could do no wrong. There was nothing about her or the things she did that made me want to duck and run. If I wasn’t so sure that where we were going next was going to be the best part of her day, I’d skip straight to the end of our day where I could finally get her alone after everyone went to bed.

That peaceful look on her face as she holds my hand across the middle seat and gazes out the window at the buildings passing by… I’d sell everything I own to have this moment forever. It always feels so right but so surreal to be in her space. To breathe in the scent of my soap on her skin as she brushed past me. To be able to reach out and touch her whenever I wanted.

 Kendra:

The car turned onto a small street off Piccadilly and pulled to a stop. “A bookstore?” I asked, looking at the display window of a shop with a sign declaring that they sell rare books and prints, interest and confusion swirling around in my mind.

“Antique books, to be precise,” Niall said, his face neutral but a smug look in his eyes. “Prints, too. I thought you might want to look around for Noah. And before you get fussy about how expensive something is, it’s a gift to him from me, since he couldn’t make it on the trip with the rest of ya.”

Noah’s art. He always remembered Noah’s art.

Stepping through the doors was like walking into a warm embrace. It was like a library had been condensed and intensified. All around us were cases full of books, the familiar musty smell overpowering and riddled with age. They weren’t anything I had ever considered for myself-- why buy books that were so old you couldn’t even read them for pleasure? I found myself drawn to the nearest case, however. From surprisingly vibrant covers with finely embedded gold lettering to thick leather cracked with age, long life marked by discoloration.

“I hoped you’d like it,” Niall said, his hand brushing lightly across my lower back. “Take your time, Ken.”

Everywhere I looked there was something new drawing my attention. The way covers were painted. The detailing on leather bindings. I was touched that Niall had not only remembered my love of history and books but found a way to combine them in a way I hadn’t expected. “How did you guess I would enjoy this?” I asked as I took in the details on a book called Bill the Minder, light green with gorgeous gold detailing.

He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve been in a library with you, Ken. And you always have a book on you when you leave the house. Too many sometimes, but that’s an old argument.” We both smirked at the memory of us arguing about how many books it took for me to write a paper.

After looking at all of the bookshelves, I went to look at the prints. I won’t lie, it’s not really something I’m overly interested in but I knew Noah would be all over it. He paints and draws, but he’s interested in every art medium there is. In the end, I find a vintage Olympic poster from the 1972 Olympics in Munich and a piece entitled “Gentleman Commoner & Nobleman, Pro Proctor” with three men wearing what looked to be graduation regalia from some time around the Victorian era, if I had to guess. It wasn’t my major area of interest when it came to history but it fits with Noah’s high school graduation coming up and I knew he’d appreciate it.

I had thought to argue with Niall about the prices until he gave me a look that promised his full stubborn rebuttal. I left well enough alone. In the end, it wouldn’t be nearly as much as buying Noah a ticket here and back would have been.

When we made our way up to the counter, I noticed a book sitting casually on its surface. I perked up instantly as I saw the black lettering embossed on the deep red cover: A Collection of Greek Mythology. There was an image that was taken from a Greek vase depicting a battle in the same black under the title and my fingers itched to pick it up.

“You can look through it, if you’d like,” the man standing behind the counter offered as he started on working up our order. I hesitated, not wanting to damage something that probably cost a fortune. In the end, curiosity got the best of me.

The top edge of the spine and the corners were frayed in a way I was familiar with-- the sign of a frequently used book. When I gently opened the cover, I discovered a list of names, previous owners I’m sure, in fuzzy pencil markings. The text was in clunkier letters than what you’d see now, and the spacing was different. Like it had been done on a typewriter. All of the most popular Greek myths were present, with pictures depicting key scenes at the beginning of each story. Occasionally, written in the margins were small notes or lines would be underlined. It was like peeking into someone’s textbook notes.

“How old is this?” I found myself asking the man who had been helping us.

He typed something into his computer and said, “The item intake says this edition was published in 1852.”

I would have ripped my hands away from it if they hadn’t been supporting the front cover and the pages I’d already turned. It wasn’t as old as some of the other books in the shop, I’m sure, but it was the oldest thing I’d touched in my life besides maybe a rock or a building.

I shut it gently and sighed.

“Do you like it?” Niall asked, leaning against the counter as he watched the man carefully pack away Noah’s gifts.

Nodding, I pulled my hands away from the cover. Every history documentary I’d ever seen had antique pieces handled with gloves. While this book wasn’t that old, I felt weird leaving the oil from my skin all over it. “I love it.”

“Good. Cause it’s yours.”

I stared at him blankly, my mind rushing to catch up. “Niall, you can’t. It’s too…”

Warm, thick fingers reach out and wrap around mine. “Don’t start in on the price again. It’s your birthday, Keni and I know how much you love Greek mythology. I already bought it.”

Today had already had too many surprises and my brain was struggling to keep up. “You already…”

His eyes were dancing. He knew he’d done well. “That book right there is the real reason we came, I needed to pick it up for you. I scoured every rare book shop in London looking for a book on Greek mythology for you. Had to use the online catalogues since I’ve been out of the country and you wouldn’t believe how hard it is finding one.”

My hand spasmed in his, gripping his fingers tighter as I looked at the book laying in front of me. “Most guys get a girl a bear or a cheap necklace for her first birthday after they start dating. You’re setting the bar way too high, Irish.”

His smile matched the delight in his eyes. “I’m planning on outdoing this birthday for many years to come.”

I stepped into his chest, wrapping my arms around him as the smell of him mixed with the smell of books in my senses. “It’s perfect. I don’t think you’re going to be able to top this one.”

“We’re still not done.”

----

Not being done included walking around looking at all of the shops before taking me to dinner at a nice French restaurant. I felt ridiculously underdressed but Niall either didn’t notice our relaxed attire or simply didn’t care. His attention was solely on me.

He flipped back to the wine selections and pointed at them. “I know you could drink here legally yesterday but it still seems momentous.”

I wasn’t even sure what to get, but our waiter was more than enthusiastic about helping me decide based on what I had enjoyed in my limited experience and what I was ordering to eat. Once he was gone, I asked Niall, “What did you do for your 21st birthday?” I thought about it for a minute and then corrected myself, “Probably what you do for all your birthdays. I forget that it’s not that magical number in most countries.”

Niall chuckled and shook his head. “We made a pretty big deal of it, alright. We had a concert day of, but I went to Vegas as soon as I could, since I could finally have the full experience. Don’t remember much of it, to be honest.”

“How very rockstar of you,” I tease. “Six months later and you’re having to be home in time to put a 7 year old to bed. My, how the mighty have fallen.”

Blue eyes lock onto mine. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be, Ken.”

Say what you want about the man, but Niall knows exactly where to get good food. The waitstaff are all attentive and in no time at all, I have a steaming plate of food right in front of me. He waited until I had a mouth full of fish before asking, “If you like history and anthropology so much, why aren’t you studying them?”

I nearly choke and take a few moments to chew properly and get my mind in order. “I have taken courses for them.”

“You know what I mean, Ken.”

I spin my fork around on my plate, half wondering if there’s someone with impeccable manners watching me and about to have a stroke. “I love them, but it’s not easy to make a career out of them. The financial risk is too great, especially with me helping out so much with the kids. I need something that has better odds of me finding a well-paying job.”

“Even if you’re not passionate about it?”

Thumbing the stem on my wine glass, I mulled over how to respond. “It’s not like I don’t care about helping people, it’s just not… my biggest interest. I don’t think there’s any harm in allowing your passion to just be a hobby in the name of doing what’s best for you and your family.”

“If you could have any job in the world, what would it be? Don’t worry about risks or your siblings for just a few minutes. What would it be?”

“I’d love to work in a history museum as an archivist or curator. Or take on a research position about ancient civilizations. Artifact research. It doesn’t really matter, as long as culture and history are involved.”

“So, you want to be Indiana Jones?”

I scrunched up my nose at him. “Would you hate me if I told you that I’ve never actually seen those movies?”

He stared at me, his jaw hanging slightly loose. “You’ve been living under a rock. Hurry up and finish your food. We’re going to go pick up cupcakes and get back to my place to fix that. Tonight.”

It wasn’t Vegas, but I couldn’t imagine a better day that he could have planned for me.

Master List

Chapter 28

[killervibe]

Be Honest

Note: Spoilers for 6x02! 

Summary: The biggest challenge, Cisco soon came to learn, of being Killer Frost’s reluctant co-life coach, was that getting Killer Frost to open up was like pulling teeth.

~.~ 

The biggest challenge, Cisco soon came to learn, of being Killer Frost's reluctant co-life coach, was that getting Killer Frost to open up was like pulling teeth.  

Caitlin did not like to talk about her problems either, so Cisco wasn't sure why he's quite so surprised. The difference, however, between dealing with Caitlin bottling up emotions and Killer Frost pretending not to have any, was that with one he could have a nice, civil conversation with that ended with hugs and mutual understanding—The other was desperate scrambles to damage control imploded social disasters.  

 Thus, when Killer Frost knocked on Cisco's workshop door with a grimace that looked like she drank spoilt milk for breakfast, he dropped his welding tools like hot potatoes. "What did you do?"  

 "I fucked up."  

 "What did you do?"  His tone was not kind, and it never seemed to be instinctually. He had to control his voice around her. She bristled when he grew cross without the chance to defend herself, despite the pattern which proved he always had reason to be.  

 Frost didn't reply straight away, but she did go for Cisco's extra rolling office chair. Reclining back against the leather, she began to ramble her story while yanking off the black combat boots Ralph found for her at a thrift shop. Cisco tried to follow along, batting away her feet as she tried to prop up her mesh socks against his screwdrivers.  

 Frost rolled her eyes and huffed. "I was doing him a favour, I thought you told me to be nice. Now Ralph hates me."  

 "He doesn't hate you," Cisco replied diplomatically. That man's patience for Killer Frost rivalled the water in the ocean. Cisco couldn't relate. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.  

 Cisco adores Caitlin, and he adores her will to stick out taking a long cognitive nap to let her alter ego have some life experiences, but by god did he not adore her.  

 He's not sure what it is. Barry thinks he's being stubborn and unwilling to try, and Ralph simply never had a problem with her to begin with, but Cisco misses his best friend terribly. The way they laughed and joked, and split the work together to lighten each other's loads. And it's hard to articulate the loss he's feeling without outright dissing Frost to her face.  

 Cisco tried to reformulate his words, cutting out his irritation. She came to him on her own, and she was following the advice he provided. Despite her feigned nonchalance, he knew she really did hang onto every word he gives.  

 "But you lied," he pointed out gently. "If you were honest, he wouldn't have felt so embarrassed when he walked into Jitters with split pants. He knew you knew he was flashing his Spider-Man undies even after he asked for your opinion on his outfit. See? Breach of trust." 

 Cisco turned around, pulling his mask over his eyes so he could get back to work. He had just ignited his blow torch when it extinguished with a spurting fizzle. Cisco looked down to find ice over the nozzle. He bit back a groan and swung back to face her, raising an eyebrow after getting rid of the gear altogether. "Yes?"  

 She could never just ask nicely.  

 "So..." Frost frowned like she couldn't wrap her head around something. She brought one of her legs down from his desk, bending at the knee to lean against, pulled up to her chest. Her hair spilled over her ripped black jeans. "Telling the truth is more important than sparing feelings?" 

 Loaded question. Cisco hesitated. "Sometimes."  

 "Well, when do you know?"  

 "It's a judgement call. When you feel it's important enough."  

 "How do you know when it's important enough?" she pressed.  

 Cisco massaged his temples. "If the truth is something that the person needs to hear, and you're telling them because you care about their well-being and you truly believe it will benefit them going forward, then yes, it supersedes being sensitive." He met her eyes. "Okay?"   

 "Yeah, sure."  

 "We good?" 

 Whatever, she'd usually snark then stalk out. And then Cisco would find Ralph and they'd Compare Notes and Call Banks and Explain Things to save Caitlin's credit score or her reputation with her growingly exasperated landlord.  

 "Do you have a migraine?" she said instead. Cisco started, taken aback. "I—Uh." He had to admit his fatigue could not be entirely blamed on Killer Frost's obnoxious gum chewing habit. 

 She stood up, "When was the last time your prescription was refilled?"  

 "It wasn't."  

 "I'll get something for you." With a firm grip on his wrist, she yanked him out of his chair and stormed down the hall to the Med Bay in her socks.  

 "...Caitlin?"  

 Frost turned around and snapped, "Is it so hard for you to think I care?" 

 Cisco blinked as she rummaged through the drawers of the Med Bay, unable to form any words to reply. 

 Everything was disorganized now, the stethoscope he'd gifted her slung limply over the edge and bags of saline left unopened on the counter. And there was still all the art, reduced from her initial splurge, to lessen Caitlin's financial headache, splattered abstract all over the place. There because he had encouraged her to follow her own wants, explore her own inner-mind. And her framed masterpiece, the Princess Bubblegum copyright infringement in its 2HB graphite glory in the middle of it all.  

 Without any finesse, Killer Frost broke the lock to Caitlin's drug cabinet, and dug through the array of medications until she found an orange capsule bottle.  

 "Take two now. It's all I have left. I guess Caitlin would normally keep them in stock." She ripped off another sheet from Caitlin's memo pad and feigned her signature. "Get Kamilla to go to the pharmacy and don't skip out on their instructions. Okay?"  

 Without the echoing voice or attitude mixed with the medical jargon, it was like she was really there.  

 Cisco swallowed the lump down his throat, unable to explain the sudden prickle behind his eyes. "Okay," he whispered.  

 Killer Frost crossed her arms. "Just say it."  

 "No." There was nothing to say. It's a trap. If he tells her how much he misses Caitlin she'd simply use it against him.  

 Her mouth pulled back tightly. "So you can give advice but can't take it?" 

 Cisco twisted the child's lock on the bottle and unscrewed the cap, popping two pills immediately. He made a weird face as he washed it down with a cup from the sink, frowning deeply at her insinuation. "Excuse me?" He's not the one playing Risk and Monopoly with Caitlin's money and social status.  

 "Fine," she said. "I'll do it."  

 "Do what?" 

 "What you told me to do."  

 Cisco heaved a tired sigh. "You just need to apologize to Ralph about the boxers and--" 

 "You're a coward who's given up on what you want with your life--"

 "--Wait."

 "No--"

 "Frost--" 

 "--No. You're dating a girl you have no feelings for because you think it's safer than falling for someone who might hurt you again and you're sitting every day in that little workshop of yours fiddling on toys you don't really care about because you don't get the chance to use them yourself."  

 Cisco gawked.  

 "You're not as nice as you think you are, you're bitter and mean, and yeah you yell, like a lot. You're rolling your eyes behind everyone's back and then mutter like we're the stupid ones. At least we're not running away from all our problems."  

 "Frost--"  

 "And you're not happy. You're not happy. It's not fooling anyone. Wake up."  

 Godforsaken seconds dragged on like scraped skin against asphalt. Cisco wasn't sure how long they stood across the room from each other in tense silence.

 Her demeanour was cool, neutral. Infuriating.

 Cisco didn't know how to feel, the weight of the words still ringing in his ears. He fumbled, trying to find ammunition to fire back, anything to defend against the empty dignity Killer Frost just pulled under him like a rug.  

 His vocabulary went blank, his brain numb, and when he opened his mouth nothing came out—Nothing. Nothing. Empty.  

 The clock on the wall ticked, and Frost snapped her gum.  

 "Why would you say that?" The burning sensation behind his eyes returned, threatening with a pressing force.  

 Finally she lifted her heated stare, scoffing in her trademark manner. With a flip of her hair, she closed the lights off on him still in the room. Her Caitlin voice carried from down the hall only an increment softer. "Why do you think?"  

[withabackpackandcamera]

February 17th, 2020

Day 3: Food Hunting and Sightseeing On My Last Day In Singapore

Because today was my last day in Singapore, I knew that I had to make the most of it and try as many foods and drinks as my belly could tolerate. So, instead of doing free breakfast at the hostel, I went out in search of web-recommended foods.  

For brunch, I decided that the must-try dish of the morning would be Char Kway Teow at Outram Park Fried Kway Teow Mee, one of the many stalls listed on the 2019 Michelin Bib Gourmand List of restaurants. Once I made it to the hawker center, I worked my way around the complex until I found the stall I was looking for. Luckily, no line yet. I guess it’s because char kway teow is a pretty heavy noodle dish that I wouldn’t think people would turn to so early in the morning (by this point, it was probably mid-morning for me). Anyhow, I bought their famous dish for $4 and sat at a table nearby, thoroughly enjoying the flavorful noodles for brunch while watching people line up to get their share of char kway teow for brunch. I guess it isn’t all that uncommon to get noodles this early.

Once I was done with my brunch, I explored a bit of Chinatown since I had skipped it (for the most part) the last couple of days. I stopped by the Sri Mariamman Hindu Temple, where I got my first experience with the widely-used forehead temperature gun. After this temple, I made another quick stop to check out the Buddha Tooth Relic Temple. Because I was in the vicinity of another Michelin Bib Gourmand hawker stall, I decided that I had enough room in my stomach to stomach more food. So I made a quick detour to check out J2 Crispy Curry Puff at Amoy Street Food Centre, the same complex I went to get my kaya toast yesterday. The crispy curry puff with potatoes and chicken was pretty good. A good flaky texture for the puff pastry and warm potatoes on the inside. I didn’t really taste the meat that was supposedly in there. Hm. But it was good nevertheless and worth trying out.  

After stuffing myself, I went back to the hostel to check out and store my bags for the day. I also used this opportunity to take a quick breather and plan the rest of my day. Before too long, I was up and at it again, this time taking the MRT to the Lavender stop on the East-West Line to check out the Muslim neighborhood of town in Kampong Glam.  

It took a little bit before I actually ran into anything while walking through Kampong Glam. But once I actually hit Haji Lane and Arab Road, that was when things became colorful and lively. The streets were lined with restaurants serving all types of middle eastern foods, as well as Thai and Vietnamese food. There were tons of little shops selling all sorts of colorful things, like fabrics, carpets, etc. And a cool looking mosque as well. I strolled through the shaded small streets, one by one, checking things out, until I made my way over to the Bugis area to continue my exploration. Because I needed a little bit more cash for the rest of the day’s adventures and needed some souvenirs, I wandered around the area trying to find an ATM and some souvenir shops. While looking for an ATM, I checked out the nice, expensive mall, as well as the cheap market right across the way from it. There were no good souvenir shops to be found but I did eventually find an ATM for some cash. 

By this point, I was getting hungry. So instead of taking a lunch break in Orchard as I had originally thought of doing, I took a detour and routed myself back to Chinatown for the meal of the day at Hawker Chan Soya Sauce Chicken Rice and Noodle, one of the cheapest, if not the cheapest, Michelin-starred restaurant in the world (it renewed its one Michelin star in 2019), located in Complex Market and Food Centre (this was the original location before it expanded to a location right outside of the hawker center). As I got to the stall, I was fortunate enough to find that there were very few people in line at the time I had arrived. Thank goodness. After a short wait, I ordered their signature soya sauce chicken rice for $2! SO CHEAP! And my first Michelin starred meal! And the plate was quickly in my hands right after. I took a seat at a nearby table and quickly devoured my plate of soy sauce chicken on top of white rice. It was delicious! The chicken was moist and super flavorful. The only sad parts about it: the bones and not enough chicken. But overall, a great choice and experience for lunch.

Before leaving for the Orchard area of Singapore, I dropped by another stall, 02-164, for a sugar cane drink and quickly downed it before heading to the closest MRT station. Once in Orchard, I strolled around the big shopping district, again, looking for souvenirs. I looked around and, for the most part, didn’t find much of anything worth buying. After walking through much of the area (and through some buildings and shopping centers), I went back to my hostel to grab my camera bag and tripod before heading back to the marina for sunset photos. 

I got to the marina earlier than I intended and ended up sitting around waiting for an exciting sunset to appear before my eyes and over the marina. Nope, that never happened. I took a couple shots here and there but ultimately, sunset and the evening skies were a dud and I didn’t get any photo worth showing off. Disappointing. I ended up staying for a while to see if the sky would get better or if the photo opps would improve... but nope, nothing. Also, I stayed back even longer because I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the lights and water show in the marina if it, by any tiny chance, surprisingly occurred. Despite seeing some water streams and lights being messed with (I thought it might have been a warm up for a surprise main event), ultimately, there was no show and I ended up waiting way too long and wasting more time than I should have.

With little time left before I had to make my way to the airport for my red eye flight to Cebu, I rushed back toward my hostel with hopes of finding some food place along the way. Ultimately, I didn’t end up getting any food (I stopped by Teok Market briefly but there wasn’t anything there worth buying) but decided instead to take a quick detour to Chinatown to try out a boba place call LiHo that I had heard about and didn’t yet have a chance to try and to find some postcards to take home. So I took the MRT to Chinatown again, got off, walked quickly in one big circle and found boba (I got their signature standard boba, which I think was brown sugar milk tea, which was pretty good) at LiHo and some postcards at a nearby convenience store before boarding the train for the hostel.  

The turnaround time from the time I left the train station, walked 1km to the hostel, got my bags, drank my drink, and got back on a train to the airport was probably around 15 mins! What a rush! I barely had time to finish my boba and enjoy it! So exhausting. But once on the train, I chilled and relaxed and ended up getting to the airport a little earlier than I expected. Luckily, the check-in process was seamless and I was able to make it to the lounge, take a quick shower, eat a little bit of hot food, and even buy another postcard and keychain before making it to my gate, boarding my flight, and finding that I had an entire row of seats to myself for a relatively empty four hour flight to Cebu. Whew, what a whirlwind last few moments in Singapore! But glad I fit it all in before leaving!

5 Things I Learned Today:

1. As far as I know, there are two hawker stalls in Singapore that have earned a Michelin star either currently or in the past: Hawker Chan and Hill Street Tai Hwa Pork Noodle. 

2. Kampong Glam is the Muslim/Middle Eastern-influenced neighborhood of Singapore. There, you can find different types of shops, stores, and restaurants with Middle Eastern tastes. You have Lebanese and Malaysian foods, Persian rugs, silk shops, etc. 

3. One boba drink can cost WAY more than a Michelin-starred meal at a hawker stall in Singapore. It’s crazy how prices can be so different between items, whether it’s street food, a dessert, a novelty, etc. 

4. In Singapore, there are temperature checkpoints everywhere. Airports. Expensive housing buildings. High-end hotels. Temples. 

5. Unlike other countries I’ve visited, Singapore doesn’t seem to have as many cookie-cutter-type souvenir shops selling a lot of cookie-cutter-type souvenirs. It was really hard to find postcards and keychains in the places I went to and that’s pretty unusual when I travel.

[alkhale]

Just read the two chapters of Locked Here for Forever... I wanted to ask, do you think it's bad to want to be in a situation like the protag? Not specifically that, but to genuinely want to be controlled/manipulated by someone... I think it's probably really unhealthy, but I've been "into" that kind of thing for about as long as I've known what it was. I was just curious about your opinion, because liking things like that makes me feel like I'm probably not a good person in some way ^^;;

(this one might be a little long because i think this is a bit of a serious thing and i wanted to take the time to answer it properly.)

For starters, don’t ever consider yourself “not a good person”. You’re absolutely not a bad person.

I’ve kinda thought about the ins and outs of this while I was going about writing it (and while I’m still writing it) and I’ve thought about how a lot of it really is circumstantial. To be blunt, everyone’s got their kinks, their fantasies, things that just get them going, you know? I get that. I think plenty of people understand that. It’s the same reason why some people are like “bruh isn’t them using a whip abuse” but it’s just that some people just... get off on that. And as long as the relationship is healthy and mutual and it stays within the bounds of harm only for those purposes, okay yeah go nuts. Writing the fic has been mostly about exploring whether or not I could actually write a good story/smut/make characters act a certain way. I think “bad” using this term loosely, characters, are incredibly interesting. Manipulative characters playing a cat and mouse sort of game or otherwise are also really interesting to me.

I think I understand the allure. I definitely see it, for sure. Part of the reason why I’m a huge fan of the webtoon “Cheese in the Trap” is because it does a really good job of going about with a character considered manipulative to borderline perhaps sociopathic, but the line is drawn because the male protag still feels empathy and emotion. Sociopaths aren’t very nice like that hahaha.

If we’re speaking in layman’s terms, sure, it seems kinda hot to have someone like that doing these things to you. Having someone playing that sort of game, mapping out your moves, slowly boxing you out into a corner until you’ve essentially got nowhere else to go but them--I think a lot more people are into that than people will say.

People fantasize about all kinds of things. They’re into all kinds of things. That’s okay. It’s different, maybe unconventional, but like I said, if it’s mutual and understanding, and it makes you and your partner happy, yeah man go nuts. Bust out that whip cream and blindfolds yo.

That being said, I will say this:

If we’re talking in terms of sort of... acting the part. Role play maybe if you will, we’ll say this is green. If your partner knows being a little stern with you, being sneaky and sly and you being aware of this but maybe acting the part of not being aware is okay with both of you, then yes, green. It’s under the same umbrella as people who’ll talk dirty. Instead of dirty talk, you just like people who talk... smart-sneaky. Cunning. 

Some people like being told what to do. They like taking orders and etc, that’s fine. AS LONG AS NO ONE’S TELLING U TO DO ANYTHING THAT PUTS UR LIFE AT RISK OR OTHERWISE, then okay, we’ll say this is green. Some people like a bossy partner. They like to be dependent and sometimes, some people will go so far as to say they like living like a lavished pet. Bruh if that’s what’s for u then okay man we don’t judge here yo. I’m a strong believer in to each their own.

If you, anon, kinda want to lean more toward these things, I think that’s fine. These are okay things to be into. It doesn’t make you a bad person and being into these things doesn’t make you a bad person.

But.

People who will actually go about manipulating you and your emotions. without your consent. without the idea that it isn’t meant to always be like this. without proper, proper concern for your well-being. manipulative bastards who will go so far as to orchestrate things, leave you boxed into a corner, isolate you from everyone else and the people you love, manipulative fools who may say they love you and in their own warped, twisted way, maybe they do, and start to convince you of things and make you doubt yourself and have you feeling emotionally ripped apart and mentally tearing at the seams? Yeah, these people are scum and this is an unhealthy relationship and you need to stay away from them. Maybe that sounds kinda hot, but the cruel truth is not feeling like yourself? It really isn’t that great. It’s miserable. This is not a healthy relationship. It really, really isn’t. No, this doesn’t make you a bad person, at the end of the day, people who would want to do this to you are the real scum, but you shouldn’t give them the chance to put you through this either. Remember you deserve nothing but the absolute best and this is not the best and you deserve love and understanding. 

These manipulative people are scum of the earth and drop their fucking asses like a hot potato.

I’ve been in a relationship that tended to have its moments where it seemed a bit manipulative. You think wanting to understand them is what it is, you’re just willing to see if from their point of view, but it’s not. It’s different. “Don’t you think this? Shouldn’t you just do this? Why even bother with this?” Under the guise of possessiveness or playful, saucy jealousy, I was being told I didn’t spend enough time with them. Don’t you think your family doesn’t treat you well enough this. I think you’re better than your friends that and while I nodded at first, the moment the words came out of their mouth it was like a slap to the face.

I would die for my family. A thousand times over. My friends have helped make me who I am and stuck with me through my worst, pushing me up, and kept me grounded at my best. They’re not perfect people. They will make mistakes. I may sound perfect compared to them, but I am not. I am just like them and they are just like me. And when I realized this wouldn’t work, it was an absolute deal breaker. 

No one is the center of your world but you. You can gravitate toward people and combine your worlds for one amazing, beautiful universe of your and their creation, but you’re at the center of your world and you are allowed to pick what stays in and out of your orbit. Not others. Just remember that and that you deserve nothing but the best and you are not weird or bad for being into anything different.

Just stay away from unhealthy relationships. like anon, i will drop kick your ass if u end up in one and drag u away from it so u can be loved by people who will rlly love u.

- i hoped this help i’m really just a dumbass but hopefully this helped!