#she was clueless - it was falling but she thought she was flying and it did really feel so good to fly

[andromeda3116]

for some unfathomable reason, i've been thinking a lot lately about this insane comedic original story i started when i was first at college and didn't have internet, way back in 2008, and i went back and tracked it down (on Ye Olde LiveJournal, which hauntingly still exists in the aether) and like. i still kinda have a fondness for it. it's ridiculous and extremely 2008, both in terms of being dated and in terms of who i was a person then, but i still kinda wish i'd ever finished it. the idea has milled about in my head of actually handling the concept now, as an adult, but tbh, i don't think it would really translate into my style now. it just exists as an artifact of my sense of humor circa age seventeen.

i can still remember being the person who wrote it, sitting in that dorm at that desk on that dinosaur laptop and you know, sometimes i still miss her.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. VII

tags: @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @hueanhdang @thelastemzy @purple-1995 @pedro-pascal-love @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97

cw: blood, death, violence, threats

The minutes passed excruciatingly slow on top of Morningstar. Seamus pressed tightly against her back still, as if he was afraid of the dragoness trying to throw him off. Daenys wouldn't put it past her, honestly. If it wasn't a risk to catch her, Morningstar would buck him off like an ornery stud.

Even with the wind blowing past her at such a high speed and the altitude of the flight, Daenys only felt a flaming heat. It burned through her veins like fire, unrelenting with its assault. She became dizzy with the overwhelming thoughts in her mind. She hadn't foresaw this to her conscious belief.

Daenys couldn't go back to the Red Keep. Not until Rhaenyra was on the Iron Throne and could protect her. She would be trapped in a snake pit with no way out except for death. She would rather die than return alone. Aegon was a drunken cunt who found enjoyment in tormenting others, found his nightly entertainment in fighting rings, and found his pleasure in the many whores of flea bottom.

Aemond was even worse. He had great skill and wit to aid him, but his madness made him the most dangerous of the two.

Otto and Alicent were compliant with the brothers now that they were reigning. Unstoppable, Daenys knew. The Queen Mother wouldn't do anything for the defense of her step-granddaughter, not in a thousand years. Otto might even suggest for Aemond to take her as a wife in a display of dominance over Rhaenyra's claim. Her eldest daughter, sister-in-law to the King.

The thought did not help her nausea. She couldn't go back.

A better fate would be to die at a formal execution. A statement to the Realm; not even the high-borns were safe from treason.

She would die there. Body or spirit, it did not matter. Daenys wished to die on her own terms, not to the whims of a whore and a madman.

Her own mortality haunted her. A princess, eldest daughter to the Queen, meant to have the blood of the dragon. Destined to die on her dragon, yet not be honored with 'a dragonrider's death'. There was no being shot down by a scorpion in a great battle for the history books. No dragon dance to perform in the skies with another beast. Only a man. A craven.

She would be alone, only with Morningstar. Like her ancestor Aerea, who mysteriously disappeared for an entire year with her dragon to Old Valyria, only to return and die without telling her story. Daenys would be remembered for her madness, not her sacrifice. A footnote, perhaps, in her mother's reign. No chapter would be dedicated to a girl who did nothing.

It wouldn't matter. Daenys wouldn't be alive to care about her legacy. She was born with her dragon. She would die with her, too. The thought comforted her more than anything else could. She was a proud dragonrider, and that's all that mattered in the end, perhaps.

Seamus squeezed her waist, knife at his thigh, almost poking into hers carelessly. Not that it would matter if it did, she could return to King's Landing with no limbs at all, and Seamus would still be rewarded. "Can't this beast fly any faster? I thought dragons were supposed to be Gods."

"She cannot fly against the winds so easily." Daenys told him, resisting the urge to tell him it was common sense. She should've fed him to Morningstar when he presented her with the wolf's head. She was naive to believe he was clueless instead of slighting her intentionally. What a coward. He couldn't even fight Cregan head-on, despite his age and experience difference. Proudly, Daenys knew that Cregan was a rare once-in-a-generation talent. As a Stark should be. He would be in the history books of great and important leaders throughout Westeros history. Perhaps most known for his protection of all that resided south of the Wall or his aid to the Queen during the war for the throne. The Wolf in the North.

Maybe her death would inspire Cregan to send more bannerman than he originally planned, out of pity for the Queen's loss. Though, she secretly hoped it might be to avenge his short-lived lady friend.

He scoffed, "what a joke."

"Do you wish to walk to the crownlands?" She bit, regretting it when he dug his blunt nails into her skin. She would be left with plenty of bruises littering her skin on the morrow.

"Watch your tongue girl, or I will remove it."

She nodded quickly, refraining from speaking any further. When had she grown so mouthy? Only days ago, she would've never imagined saying such things to a man who had a knife to her back, or anyone, for that matter.

Daenys grinded her teeth, looking ahead sharply. It was only clouds below, grey skies spanning for miles ahead. If Cregan was following on horseback, he would've long since lost sight of her. She prayed that he was, even if he could not do anything from such a distance. The thought comforted her.

Morningstar shrieked, the sound jarring even to Daenys' tuned ears. It was higher-pitched than usual, like she was calling out for another dragon. Or a person.

A thought formed in her head. Morningstar did not have to bite someone to kill them. She, like many of the other dragons, had one thing unique to her. Baelerion had his unmatched size. Meleys was the fastest of the living dragons, even with her large form. Caraxes had a long neck, resembling a bloodwyrm. Sunfyre had his renowned beauty. Syrax had a regal grace to her that no other dragon matched.

Morningstar released a blue fire from her chest, burning hotter than the orange and red fires of her kin. She seldom used it, other than to cook her food. It scorched everything it touched in less time than other dragonfire. Daenys bit her cheeks anxiously. She would not live to the sunrise.

She would not see the bruises form and eventually fade.

She would not see her dear brothers again, nor race in the skies with Vermax and Arrax.

She would not feel her mother's warm embrace.

She would not see Cregan's kind eyes again.

But it would be her choice. Her sacrifice. For once, Daenys would do something. Perhaps not heroic, like her fathers', or significant like her mother. She would prevent herself from being held hostage with her timely death. Daenys knew that if she were taken, put to the gallows publically, Rhaenyra would back down in order to save her only daughter. It was obvious what the smarter option was, objectively.

She swallowed down her nerves, coming to a solemn acceptance.

Sliding her hand up her bunched skirt, Daenys slid the dagger slowly down her leg, uncaring if she nicked her skin. She could only feel the cold pommel in her grip and the hot adrenaline in her blood. On one side, she clutched her dagger. On the other, she reached for Seamus' weaponed hand. She snatched his wrist in a chokingly tight hold, trying to force his hand to open and drop his dagger. He jerked in surprise, not expecting the underwhelming Princess to act out. In his sudden movement, the dagger grazed her neck, drawing an angry red line of blood from it. She gripped the wrist tighter, his body acting against him and opening his hand up to drop the dagger. It fell to the forest floor, long out of his reach. She whipped her other hand down on his, stabbing it straight through his hand and into the saddle.

Seamus screamed out in pain, howling curses at the girl. "Forget alive! The King will have you returned in bits and pieces!"

When he tightened his arm around her waist again, she pulled the dagger back to her chest, allowing his blood and twitching hand to smack her across the jaw wildly. She twisted and fought in his grip, hot blood smearing across her face and neck. Seamus' eye was squeezed shut painfully from a scratch she managed to give the eyeball directly; the sight pridefully reminded her of Aemond. They both heaved with effort, fighting each other and to stay on the saddle. Below, Morningstar fluttered her wings in a panic, hearing Daenys yelp into the cold air.

He reached for her dagger, grunting when she continued to slice at his exposed hand's flesh. They continued their struggles, both covered in blood now. Daenys turned at the waist, taking the flying fist at her eye with a crazed look in her violet eyes. She stabbed the dagger into his soft belly, satisfied at hearing him cry out. When he pushed her into the front of the saddle, hands trying to keep a grip at her neck, she cried out. At her struggles, he slammed her repeatedly into the hard material of the saddle by the tight grip of her scalp, leaving her breathless and light-headed. "Stay still, you little brat!" He growled into her ear.

"Dracarys!"

Morningstar repeated her cry, refusing the command fiercely. Seamus left the dagger in his stomach to keep himself from bleeding out, though he was tempted to in order to kill the Princess faster. He would have to be satisfied with feeling the breath leave her throat.

"Dra—arys, Morn—!" She yelled breathlessly, wheezing at the excertion. The pressure was too much, black spots filled her vision.

Finally, after much reluctance from the white beast, the skies erupted in a beautiful icy blue light. Daenys, still pinned to the front of the saddle, could only shield her face uselessly with a single arm. Seamus, enchanted with the sight, had sat up. Daenys grinned hauntingly, baring red teeth to no one. Blood smeared across her lips and face, giving her the appearance of the dead already. At least Morningstar would return to Cregan. He would not be left clueless.

Morningstar easily flew through the impossibly hot flames, her dragonscales keeping her unscorched. Seamus, however, was not so lucky. His pain-filled screams didn't last very long, the blue fire-lit man lighting up the clouds like a thunderstorm. Daenys, too, was covered in the dazzling light, but her throat made it impossible to scream.

Morningstar knew the fate of her rider, mournfully calling out for her one final time. She sung the song that Daenys was always happy to hear, sometimes singing back when they were alone. The dragoness did not waste time flying any further toward the crownlands, descending toward the snowy woods and to the nearest clear patch she spotted. The smell of burning flesh filled the area that she landed in, the sound of two bodies individually thumping to the melting ground. But Morningstar refused to look at the bodies, refused to have the sight of Daenys tainted with what she had done. Killing her own rider, a sacred bond broken. The dragon curled in on herself, waiting to join her rider in death. No matter how long that took.

🗡

Daemon ruled over Dragonstone's council in Rhaenyra's absence. Jacaerys and Daenys have both yet to return, not yet receiving the dreadful news. Rhaenyra had left on dragonback immediately after the raven came, searching for anything to let her see the truth of it for herself. Daemon mourned Lucerys, too, in his own quiet way. He had to be strong for his family, for the living.

He left the council in the afternoon, wandering the empty halls of Dragonstone. Missing three children from its vast halls, the castle was a shell of its former vibracity. Daemon passed Jace's chambers on his way to Joffreys room, then paused when he noticed Daenys' door ajar.

He remembered that it had been closed when she left. Daenys had always been particular about who went in her room, constantly reminding her younger brothers to knock before they entered. Carefully, he creeked the door open, hand resting on his sword.

No one was inside.

Only a few scattered books and pages on her desk that Daemon knew wasn't the work of his daughter. She was a tidy person, never a thing out of place in her quarters. It brought her peace within her little bubble. Perhaps Joff had gotten curious, rumaging through her 'girly' romance books, as the boys liked to tease her for reading.

He approached the desk, ready to organize the books and place them back onto her shelves. He noticed the scribbles on the pages, the first instinct he had to associate with them was Joffrey's childish writings, but upon closer inspection he saw that they were a repeat of the same words.

Dates were placed at the top of each page that he turned to. A personal journal, Daemon concluded. Curiosity got the better of him, sitting to read what the contents were. He wished he had put the book back when he delved into the rabbithole that was Daenys' mind.

Every day, for the last seven years, was dated throughout many journals. Some worn, some newer. She started to document her 'dreams' after Laenor's death. There was one most nights. Some mundane—forseeing what she would eat the next day. Others painful—like Daenys knowing that she would take a tumble from the steps of Dragonstone's cobble steps. Others, on a rarer occasion, prophesied important events in their family's life. Most of these dreams were documented in an obsessive way. Sentences were written down hundreds of times, no doubt mindlessly by Daenys, who was still deep into her vision.

She foresaw Viserys' death, Aegon's usurping, Meleys killing hundreds of smallfolk in the dragonpit, Rhaenyra losing Visenya to stillbirth. Why hadn't she ever said anything, before hand? The dreams are always dated either the night before they happened or merely a few days later. Daemon flipped furiously through the journals, looking for answers.

Daenys kept returning to one dream. One, that wasn't foretold. Laenor's death by fire. She had never trusted her mind to tell her the truth after it had not warned her about her own father's demise. She cursed the Gods boldly in writing and cursed herself for letting her father's life slip out of her grasp.

She did not know a truth from a lie, though all those that haunted her after were true. Still, she did not confess them to Rhaenyra or Daemon in fear that she would be wrong. One wrong warning and disaster might strike from ill preperations. Daemon rested his head in his hands, rubbing at his temple stressfully. It was Rhaenyra who went through her journals, too. She must have searched through every word of them for a glimpse at Lucerys' fate but found nothing like Daemon had. Daenys left Dragonstone before she could foresee his death. Daemon couldn't find it in himself to be cross with his daughter. It was his fault she never confessed her visions anymore. He had plotted with Rhaenyra to fake Laenor's death, keeping it a secret to all in the realm except for themselves, even Laenor's children.

Could this have been prevented? All of this, the war, the usurping, Luke's death. If only Rhaenyra and Daemon had confessed their sins.

🗡

It was hours that Cregan spent on horseback, looking between the trees and the skies in hopes of spotting the white dragon. Dusk had gone ahead, running at a pace that a horse could not keep up with for nearly as long. He was forced to walk most of the time, lest he killed Red by exhausting the poor horse. Every second that passed by was torture. His mind never let him forget the terrified look in Daenys' eyes.

He let her slip away again. This time, due to his own stubbornness. He distanced himself from the Princess, a hundred reasons why nagging in his brain. But none of them mattered now, when he had allowed her to go off on her own. He knew she was upset. He knew that she was leaving the campsite because of the unbearable silence.

Cregan knew, and still let her out of his sight. He failed again after promising that he would protect her. Those sad violet eyes, which had looked at him with all the trust in the world, were out of his reach.

Taken hostage on her own dragon, being used for Knott's selfish desires. Cregan knew he would be a man damned to eternal suffering if he believed in the New Gods. For the first time in his life, he regretted not following them. His only punishment would be his own guilt, which would eat away at him for the rest of his mortal life.

Cregan straightened in his seat when Dusk came sprinting to Red's heels, barking urgently. Cregan signaled for the direwolf to go on again, commanding Red to gallop in a chase. What had he found? Cregan hadn't seen or heard Morningstar since they had left, only instinctively going straight South like he knew Daenys woukd guide Morningstar. Dusk must have heard something that his owner could not.

The direwolf held himself back in terms of speed, staying at a pace that Cregan could keep in his sights at all times. It was not another half hour before Cregan spotted Morningstar curled up in a clearing. Dead? No, that was impossible. There were no threats to the dragon so far North.

Cregan slowed Red to a hault, jumping from the mount with a frantic resolve similar to his wolf's. His whole body was tense at the sight of Morningstar alone. If Seamus had forced Daenys to land and took her somewhere on foot, the dragon would be at the treeline, tearing out trees one by one to get to Daenys.

Where was she?

He almost didn't want to know.

Cregan approached Morningstar slowly, holding his hand out and brushing against the dragon. No response. No growl, no purr, no lifting her head to see who had approached her. He would assume the dragon was dead where she laid if he did not watch her middle slowly move up and down, as if she were only in a deep sleep. "Morningstar," Cregan murmured, coaxing the dragon to wake up.

Only the winds of the North filled his ears as they rustled through the trees. Dusk's growl perked his ears as he focused on the dragon, futility attempting to make her wake.

"What is it, boy?" Cregan asked from the other side of Morningstar. He walked around to where Dusk's call came from, freezing upon the sight. A large, extremely burn body lay dead on the floor next to the dragoness' wing. It was pure black, no sign of any distinguishing features that once dorned the body. To Cregan's relief, it was the size of an adult male. Seamus was dead.

But where was Daenys? And what happened to make Morningstar not be pleased at her work?

Dusk nudged at someone stuck under the body, whining and sniffing at it loudly. Cregan dragged Seamus' corspe away from it, tossing it aside with a disgusted sneer. Serves the bastard right.

It was Daenys, bare as the day she was born. Curled up instinctively to protect her own body heat, though the fire from Seamus seemed to have done that well enough. How was she alive? Unburnt, unharmed? She looked serene, peaceful, as if she were simply taking a nap in the forest with Morningstar. Cregan stiffended, realizing the situation. He swiftly covered the girl with his cloak, taking her into his arms like one might a wet and shivering kitten. Her skin burned to touch, almost making Cregan drop her: but he persisted through the burn.

Cregan considered himself an avid learner of the histories. It was his duty as a Lord and The Warden of the North to know everything about the Seven Kingdoms and all their houses. That included the Targaryens'. Never once, in any of the expensive texts he can arduously labored over in the late nights after his father died when he was only three and ten, was a fire-proof man or woman every mentioned. A secret, mayhaps, hidden by the Targaryens to not give away their strategies.

It was hard to say. When she woke, Cregan would simply have to ask her himself. For now, though, all that mattered was that the sweet girl was alive and in his arms again. As it should be.

Cregan lifted his head from looking at Daenys' worry-less face. When she was awake, she always had some underlying fear hidden behind all her other emotions. It dominated her, consumed her. Cregan saw it even when she was laughing, when she was safe. He wished to make it go away, to chase off what haunted her soul. But even the strong Lord could not fight internal battles for someone else. He could only hope that she gained enough strength of her own to save herself.

Like tonight. Daenys saved herself from her kidnapper. Cregan would soon figure out how she did it and how she survived it. He had a dark feeling that he would not like the answer.

He brought Daenys to Morningstar's eyeline. Shut, like her rider's, Morningstar looked a mirror image of Daenys. They both looked so much more at peace when not plagued by their thoughts.

"Here, girl..." Cregan murmured, lifting Daenys for Morningstar to notice. The dragon lifted its eyelid slightly, the scent of Daenys filling her nostrils. Immediately, the dragoness' violet eye widened and she jerked up. Delight washed over her features, as much expression as a dragon could have. Morningstar rosed to her wings and hind legs, sniffing at Daenys as if this were only a deceitful dream. Cregan grinned at the sight of the beast being active once more, assuming she had become despondent due to her rider being injured or presumed dead.

He shared in her relief and delight both.

After allowing her to reunite with the Princess, Cregan mounted Red carefully, placing the woman in front of him, facing him to lean on him in her sleep. The cloak still covered her, leaving a slight chill over the Lord's back and shoulders. It did not matter, as long as she was safe. The whole ride, taking well into the sunlight, was spent with one arm clutching the reigns and the other firmly across her waist to keep her safe and close. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in her smokey scent, content to be in her presence again. Even a minute without her felt like torture, not knowing how she wad faring all alone in a perilous situation.

Finally, once they reached the campsite again, Morningstar flying far ahead to it and waiting, Cregan placed her into his tent and bundled the Princess up in more furs. He did not wish to dress her, so it would have to do. He didn't sleep, watching over her and the campsite as he waited for the Princess to awaken.

It took nearly a full day for that to happen. Cregan grew more worried with every passing hour. Night had come, making it almost twenty-four hours since Daenys had been taken on dragonback by Seamus Knott. He stared at her intensely, watching every breath she took and every twitch mistaken for her waking up. He began to wonder if he should turn back to Winterfell, or even continue foward to the closest house, coincidentally Knott. He would be reluctant to take her to the very house where the vile man who hurt her was breed in, but a maester was a maester.

Daenys woke with a pained gasp. Cregan nearly jumped with her, stunned at the movement. "Cregan..." She called for him before she opened eyes. When she did, eyes bleary from her long sleep and likely more unpleasant dreams, Daenys teared up at the sight of the man sitting in front of her.

He was quick to wipe away falling tears, ungloved hands gently caressing her soft skin. "You're safe, my girl. He is dead. He can not hurt you again." He promised her, brows turned up in sympathy for the distressed Princess.

"I know he is dead. I killed him." Daenys sobbed into his warm touch, clutching onto his wrists like a lifeline. "I didn't—I wasn't even sorry for it, when it happened. I was glad that he would die, to hear his pained screams."

Cregan brought her to his chest, wrapping her safely in his embrace. "You cannot blame yourself for what you felt. You are not a bad person for it. Men kill all the time for selfish reasons. You killed to save yourself. It is okay."

"It does, Cregan. It does." She insisted, shaking her head vehemently as she gripped his tunic.

Cregan felt unsure of how to comfort her. He was never the best with words. He killed his first man because of his duty as Lord and Warden. Executing a deserter of The Wall for his crimes and disloyalty. He felt no guilt because he knew it had to be done. Such was the way of his station and the Old Way.

He could only hold her, stroking her hair while she cried. They stayed like that for as long as it took for Daenys to calm. Even after she quieted down, they stayed in one another's arms for the familiar feeling of bittersweet solace.

"I knew you would come for me. Thank you, Cregan." Daenys spoke up hoarsely. Cregan looked down at her, placing a strand of hair behind her ear and ignoring the spots of blood on her face.

"I would've ridden all the way to King's Landing to find you."

She truly believed him.

"I should've headed your advice, then." When he gave her a confused look, she continued. "When you wanted him gone. You didn't trust him from the start, I was naive to believe a kinslayer could ever have honest intentions."

"You wanted to see the good in him, even after I told you his crimes. That is not a sin, Princess. If you only ever saw the bad in your subjects, you would never trust again. You were fair in giving him a chance." Cregan mused, resisting the urge to rest his chin on her head. This position was too familiar for a Princess and a Lord—especially when both were unwed. They ignored that fact multiple times throughout his journey.

Was Cregan a fool for not caring? A better man would've surely escorted her back to Winterfell days ago when the wolf attacked her. The North was no place for a princess. He was a selfish man.

He was not before he met Daenys.

At the very least, he hoped that she did not think him bawdy or vulger for being so close to her. He had never known himself to be a slave to his baser desires, never visiting brothals at every want and whim or taking a mistress before he was wed. No, he was not like most men in that regard.

But oh, how he yearned for her. To simply be in her presence was a blessing from the Old Gods. To hear her brilliant laughter or speak her mother tongue so gently with her dragon. Every little expression she allowed him to bear witness to; joy, sorrow, fear, regret. He wanted it all, forever. Wanted Daenys to be kept safe in Winterfell with him, at least then he could always know she was sound.

She had grown so much in her little time with him. So shy and guilt-ridden to even be stepping foot in his home, though it was well within her rights as a Princess to do as she pleased. She remained gentle although she witnessed the brutal killing of a predator who nearly took her life—killed a different kind of predator herself. The little rabbits and the wolf were given kind words and careful handling even after they felt no pain. The titleness man being mourned and cried for even after he had attempted to use her for his own grab at power.

Cregan wished to covet all of her purity and goodness for himself. To keep her away from all things tainted lest they successfully drag her into their clutches. In Winterfell, she would be safe to flourish. Like a rare winter rose, which could only grow and bloom in specific conditions, Daenys could not do so in King's Landing–or even Dragonstone.

He decided then that he would make the offer to Queen Rhaenyra. His council had advised him of such things when Aegon first usurped the Iron Throne, telling their Lord that the Queen would ask for men, and it would be wise to ask for something in return.

If that made him a selfish man, then so be it.

🗡

Daenys wished she didn't wake up from her tumble off of Morningstar. It would be easier if she burned alongside Seamus. From the moment she gained consciousness, memories and guilt flooded her senses. She killed a man without remorse. For her own defense, Cregan had valiantly reminded her, but that didn't do anything to sooth the bile in the back of her throat.

She was a foolish, spoilt, and naive girl for trusting such a man. She would not make that mistake again. Daenys was glad to see the winter Lord, as well as Dusk and Morningstar, but all that did little to lift her mood. The night passed slowly with Daenys staring at the tent's roof, counting the passing seconds until Cregan woke and they would start their journey once more. She glanced at him, admiring his sharp features in the little light provided by the moon. She was vaguely aware of her state under the furs, and even more aware of how he had seen her before he wrapped them around her. For some reason, she couldn't bring herself to care for her modesty.

A nagging question burned in her mind.

Why hadn't she caught fire like Seamus did? Her kin had never recorded such an event in their histories, nor had she dreamt of such things happening to herself nor other people. Laena Velayron was burned to death by her dragon, Vhagar. So clearly, the bond was not what saved her. Daenys wished to test herself once more against fire, but feared that she would not be so lucky a second time. There was no way to know her true condition for certain until she returned to Dragonstone. In the castle, all Valyrion texts were kept and passed down the generations straight from Lord Aenar Targaryen.

Beside her, Cregan stirred. He was closer tonight than he had been previous nights. Much closer, in fact. Their breaths mingled warmly when she faced him, and his arm lay outstretched slightly towards her own. She was exceedingly grateful to the man for all he had done for her over their time together. Patient with her trances, teaching her to hunt and defend herself, comforting her in her dark thoughts. Slowly, Daenys interlocked her fingers with his, squeezing once. She shifted to her side, planting herself close to his body heat and comforting scent. She slept beside him for the remaining hours of the night.

🗡

get yourself a ride or die (literally) like Morningstar, who was determined to let herself starve to death because she couldn't live without her best friend.

i hope cregan's little monologe didn't sound dark or controlling, he truly does love her and wants her safe, knows the south lands would not be good for her because they never have been.

how does one write in a man's pov? I will never know. I feel like I always made them too dark or cold. anyway, I hope yall enjoyed the chapter 🩷 feedback appreciated

[not-in-your-walls]

I am horrible at coming up with titles for stories, but just know this is g/t 👍

Warning: this will use giant having a human pet concept, and a bit of fearplay

A pet, that’s what I am. Born into a world that was too big for me- into a life where I was nothing, but an animal, meant to be used as a toy, a companion, or whatever my owner wanted me to be. Even still, I had hope. I was raised alongside those who believed giants to be evil, but, seeing so many different types of giants walk into the pet store, adults, teenagers, kids, I knew- no, I hoped they were like us. Human. Unfortunately, it was all for naught.

I was given as a gift to a giant my age- Jacob was his name. He barely paid me any mind. He did his thing, and I did mine. He wasn’t cruel or anything, just…quiet. 

I was seated on his desk, fumbling with an old post-it note, occasionally looking up, watching as he typed away on the computer.

I looked back as I heard the creak of the chair, the lack of the clicking keyboard. He slumped back against the chair. As I was just about to look away, our eyes locked. 

Without warning, I was suddenly lifted several feet into the air, my torso pinched between his thumb and forefinger. I had to fight the urge to squirm, especially when I slowly being lifted towards his face, until I was at eye-level with him. 

His blank stare bore into me. I was airborne, flying and freeing falling within seconds, before landing on something warm…squishy…his hand. I didn’t even have a chance to catch my breath as I was once again tossed. My stomach did flips, and once I landed back on the skin, I squeeze my eyes shut. Upon landing on the third time, I tightly grasped on his point finger, my entire body being pressed against it, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Please…no more.”

——-

Jacob never really cared about humans, or any of his fellow giants for that matter. It’s not that he was apathetic, more so that he didn’t like people. So when he was gifted a human only a few days prior, he was very clueless on what step to take next. She was relatively quiet, as was he. As usual, while he did his homework, she did her own thing, folding and unfolding a post-it note, seemingly lost in thought. 

He hadn’t know what had came over him, but once he was finished with his homework, he became bored, and what was the first thing he saw? The little human. Without thinking, something he seemed to do much of lately, he pinched her between his thumb and forefinger and brought her up to his face. 

He could feel her writhe within his grip, every tiny movement, her warmth, he could feel at all, but at the time he wasn’t too preoccupied with those thoughts. That being said, he threw her into the air, easily catching her. He had repeated this two more times, head bopping up and down as she rose and fell. 

Once she landed the third time, something different happened. She clutched onto his pointer finger, surprisingly tightly for someone of her statue. Then, she whispered something.

“Please…no more.” He could feel her tiny puffs of air on his finger, her rapid heartbeat. When he moved the finger ever so slightly, she held on tighter. 

She was trembling. 

“Hey…” he whispered. God, she truly looked so…small right now. “I’m not going to throw you.” He tried again. Even with his words, he couldn’t help the small smile that began to form on his lips. He knew finding something like her paralyzing fear of him to be cute was fucked, but he couldn’t help himself. Even still, he continued the gentle approach. 

He began to use his free hand to gently play with her hair, limiting himself to only his pinkie. She shivered underneath every little touch, but also ever so slightly loosened her grip as the minutes passed. 

Eventually, once her grip loosened enough, he brought his hand over to the desk and tilted it, grimacing only after he caused her to roll harshly only it.

“Sorry.” He mumbled. He should have never been given a pet.

[yoonzinuhh]

what kinda future ?

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 : seungcheol x reader

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 : fluff,romance,angst,possible reincarnation

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 : mentions of death

𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿’𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 : for entertainment purposes only. might sound so dramatic and rushy but i rlly love this tbh. and yeah it’ll just have 2 parts ! thanks @asyre !!

the first time when he saw you,the girl of his dreams. girl of his dreams as in literally. his dreams always had the same pattern.

him as a knight climbing up the balcony to meet the princess,the love of his life. her voice and laughs were like a melody to him,her eyes that spoke million words,her smile that gave him assurance.

the second time he saw the girl of his dreams. she had her hair tied up,some of them falling onto her eyes,as she ran behind a balloon that was flying towards him. but he couldn’t care about the red flying whatever. his eyes were on her,just her.

she sees the balloon fly towards someone tall,hoping he’d catch. he smiled and let it pass. she gives him the weirdest look before running towards it.

for a second seungcheol thought his world stopped but was interrupted by her disgusted look. he chased her,the balloon,her steps and finally held the string,smiling. and her clumsy self tripped onto him. cliche but god he swear he hears something romantic playing behind as he held her,eye contacts being passed,like the whole world paused,again.

but his dreams always had a pattern. he would fall in love. fall in love so bad that he was ready to give his life away for you,his love. so would she, but the only difference was she does as she said. you always gave up your life for him. not once,not twice. but in every single dream of his,always without showing your face but a small mark on the right side of the shoulder. thats all he sees in his dreams.

seungcheol never believed in second life or reincarnation. he never believed in soulmates either in contradiction to his dreams.

it was another weekend where he is on the other side of the counter,putting up a fake smile for his side savings,to take care of himself. with rain being harsh the shop was more crowded.

cliche again. the door opened with the sound of the bell ringing,cold breeze hitting his face,drops of water on the glass as he looked at the direction of bells. he swore time stopped.

the prettiest girl he has ever seen,your hair little messy and wet from the rain,little shivers over your shoulder as you came upto the counter. hands hugging yourself you look through the menu board biting your lower lip trying to decide on something hot to drink.

“hi..can i get the hot cocoa andd..” you eye the bakery counter and give out a sigh.

and stupid seungcheol did not hear a word. his whole attention was on you. your hair,your lips trembling and little droplets on your nose. he snapped when you wave a hand at him with a confused look.

“um..do i have to repeat my order ?”

oh god. is he in love. he is in love. he is.

you sit in the corner of the cafe,sadly looking through the window while sipping your cocoa. the rain doesn’t seem to be kind to you. sighing you get up walking towards the door until a voice,little too familiar but you don’t know who it is from.

“hey ! here..you can carry this..” the clueless handsome guy from the counter handed over his umbrella to you.

“no..thats fine i can manage thank-“

“i insist. and i have hours more for my shift it’ll stop by then.”

and something doesn’t make you deny.

his eyes were fixated towards the door. maybe you’d come in to give him his umbrella. maybe he could shoot his shot. maybe he could- oh god..there she is.

walking in you smile at him. everything feels slo-mo to him. with romantic song playing behind. just like his dreams.

“hey ! thank you so much..uh..”

“seungcheol..you can call me cheol” with a stupid smile.

“thanks seungcheol. oh and im y/n” you giggle out.

y/n. such a pretty name. he thinks.

“two minutes. it’s on the house” he rushes as if it was most expensive order he has ever taken.

“no no seun- cheol.” his heart skipped a beat.

“you’ve already done enough yesterday. if at all anything it should be me who should be getting you something” you laugh.

“lets do it” oh. he cant believe he just said that. to be honest he’s little too proud of shooting his shot.

the day ends with him dropping you off at the bus stand,too many stories and laughs. he is giggling and kicking his feet off at bed thinking about you. and it goes on for almost a month and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t fall more and more for you.

and right when he thinks about having a peaceful sleep it returns. tears streaming all over his face as he screams into a void. a image of his lover trying to smile a goodbye as the beeps of the little screen next to her ends. he begs,cries,asking you to stay but just like the other dreams of his,you choose not to.

at first cheol thinks of it as a nightmare. once twice nothing scared him. but everyday ended up the same. him falling in love. him being in love. him losing his love. the pattern was always the same. it was too real and often for it to be just a nightmare. but honestly he cant take it anymore. waking up with a bead sweat slipping down his neck he looks at the clock. 4:02am. the same as every other day. and something in him always asks him to get flowers every time he gets the dream of her passing. for some reason,the daisies.

his usual go to shop is closed so he just walks where his phone takes him to.

‘must be here’ he mutters to himself.

“good afternoon sir how may i help yo- cheol !?” your eyes widen then softens.

“you work here !?”

“uh yeah..not too long ago..” you smile. “soo how may i help you?”

“i’m just..looking for some flowers..”

“oh really ? i thought you were here for laptops” you say high pitched earning a laugh from him and you.

“well..do you have daises?”

“daises ? my favourites” you smile. “just a minute”

billing it for him “it’s in the house” you wink.

“oh come on y/n-“

“i insist ?” you laugh mocking his tone something’s on up your head.

“do you know..daisies mean new beginnings ?”

“really ? i just..”

“thats why i really love daisies. it’s like..” you stare at the flowers and he stares at you. a few seconds go silent.

“anyways..are these for..someone?” you eye at him. hoping for a no. god you don’t even know why but you just want it to be the answer.

“uh yeah” he scratches the back of his head. wow.

“see you later ?” you nod a smile.

running back home from work he sets the flowers onto the little water jar on his desk. he just stares at them. for a minute,or minutes. and something in him tells him to run. run to her. and he does.

running to the flower shop he sees you with your bright smile getting out while waving at the old woman inside.

“y/n ! y/n wait !” you turn around to see breathless cheol resting his palm on his knees while the other had his little flowers from earlier,little dull still beautiful.

“cheol- whats wrong is everything alright ?”

he shakes his head into a no. still breathless he hands over the flowers to you. “for you” he says trying to catch his breath.

“me ?..why-“

“y/n look..i’m..i just want to be straight forward..oh my god what am i..just hear me out for a second okay..?” he says taking your hand in his.

“okay..” you whisper.

“look..i know its so sudden but god..i like you..ever since you walked through the door. felt like my whole world..just stopped..it sounds cheesy but yeah..i really like you..i’d..i’d like to..like you ?”

“woa- damn yes that really did sound cheesy” you chuckle looking down. but inside you felt everything heat up. the handsome guy from cafe just asked you out..or the only friend you made who you might have a little crush on just asked you out..wow.

breathing out he tries to find your eyes “so..?”

“so ?”

looking up at him for several seconds you tip toe to peck him on his cheek.

“bye then ! ” you laugh as you rush away.

my god. thats all cheol could think you. his big ass grin,he bets you saw those tomatoes on his cheeks. he was down bad for you.

———————————————————————-

dating cheol was pretty simple. you both made sure to meet almost every day with him dropping you home or take you out for a coffee. and friday evenings meant a movie and cuddle at one of your places. it was peaceful. it was loving.

and just like another day there were you trying to make a meal without burning the kitchen down while cheol is just walking behind you like a puppy.

“no way he did that !?” he exclaimed at another story of yours tonight. that’s what you loved about him the most. growing up you never had attention which made you a reserved person but he was always ears. always ready to listen to everything you say out. blabbers rants worries..everything.

gently pacing away the hair that fell on your face “let me tie it up” he smiled while tying your hair with your band that’s always on his wrist just in case you needed it.

hugging you from behind he places his chin onto your shoulder and places a peck. at the very moment his eyes widen. his eyes widen at the mark on your shoulder. the one that always haunted him.

“y-y/n..how did you get this mark..”

“uh i dont know but i remember my mom saying it was a birth mark ? pretty unique right” you tilt your head back to get a glimpse then peck his lips.

the whole night during the movie seungcheol was unusually silent. all he could think about was the mark. it could be a coincidence right ? the stupid dreams he had could be just dreams right ? it should be..right ?

tags : @aaniag

[kangmoon27]

King's doll | Jungkook ff oneshot

Pairing: Yandere king Jungkook x Doll Yn

Summary: When the king is obsessed with his sister's doll and secretly stole it from her to turn in into a human in exchange of his wife.

You blink your eyes repeatedly. You're alive? But how? This is impossible. You shouldn't be alive.

The king walks in and saw his younger sister crying on the ground. He was frustrated seeing her like that. He loves her a lot. A lot means he will do everything and anything just for her.

She saw her older brother who is now the king of their kingdom and run towards him. Hugging him tightly while crying.

He went down on his knees and hugged her back, trying his best to calm her down.

"My doll is gone, please do something King oppa. I want my doll back!!" The princess's protested while crying none stop.

"Don't worry I'll try my best to do everything that I can" The King said while caressing his sister's hair. While his sister is crying over a doll, he's smirking widely cause it's finally happening.

You get up from the bed while rubbing your eyes. You smiled when you saw your feet. You can move them!! You can move!!.

You slowly stand up from the bed while holding the wooden craft on the side of the bed. You laugh. You're overjoyed.

You take a step forward without holding the wooden craft but within a sec you came falling down on the ground. You groan in pain while looking at your feet with tears in your eyes.

The door made the sound of crack that catches your attention. With a teary eyes, you look at the man who just came in. His cold expression gives you chill on your spine.

You saw his dark odds searching the room when his eyes fell on you. He smiled and slowly walk towards you. You're clueless. You don't know what to do. You just stay there in the same position as he came closer.

He extended his hand and caresses your cheek. With just one touch of him you truly felt something build inside your stomach. It's like butterflies are flying on your empty stomach.

"You're as beautiful as I thought you would be my doll" He said and laugh. His laugh somehow scared you. You don't know why but everytime he's trying to do or say anything your feelings started changing. A mix feeling or scared, happy and more.

"I'm Yn, doll Yn, you know me?" You asked him. You're truly clueless, you don't even know who's this man Infront of you right now.

"Yes baby, I know you, you're my doll. You're the king's Doll" He smirk while you look at him in confused.

"No, I'm not your doll. I'm princess ell's doll, I'm her doll she always play with me. Like a tea cup dinner!! I would love to do that now!! I can finally drink the tea from cup!!" You cheerfully said as you tried to get up. You run to the door to open it attempting to find your owner when the man suddenly grabbed you by your arms and sigh.

"No, you're my doll. Look at you, you can talk, you can walk, you can literally do anything that you want and you wanna know why? It's because I turned you into human like us I asked the witch to turned you into a woman in exchange of my wife leaving my child without a mother cause I'm so madly, deeply obsessed with you. I even steal you from my sister and now she's crying none stop. I did all of that just to turn you to this. Now you have to pay, just stay by my side and do whatever I told you and we will be just fine baby." He gave you a peck on your lips and smile.

He loves looking at you so clueless. You don't know the world. You don't know what is wrong or right. You just know that this man help you to become human just like that and you knew you owe him alot.

The king was frustrated. He's burning in anger after he find out you went out of your room. He forbid you to leave that room and you already break one of his rules and now he's burning in madness.

Soon the king finds out that you're with the princess. In hurry, he opened the door slamming it hard while his eyes are running in red. He saw you sitting on a small chair with a tea cup in you hand, he also so his little sister who's sitting Infront of you.

The little girl run towards his brother and hug him tight. "Thank you so much King oppa, you bring doll back. I love you saw much." Her smile is reaching her eyes. She's so happy but that happiness won't last long.

Jungkook pushed his sister hard making her fall on the ground. She look at her brother while tears falling in her eyes. Getting on his knees and grabbed her small cheek hard, almost burying his fingers on her cheek.

"She's not your doll, can't you see she's can walk, she can talk, she can blink. And your doll never do any of those so stop saying she's yours cause she isn't!! She's mine!! All fcking mine!!" He pushed her again making her lay on the ground while crying. She's too young to understand her brother's possessive over a doll that he turned into human.

You watch everything. Unable to identify what's going on. You feel like you wanted to do something but you're forbidden. He made rules for you to follow and you wanted to do everything he says to not disappoint him and give him a reason to abandoned you just like how other's abandoned their toys.

You never wanted to leave your room but as soon as the princess saw you he started pulling you inside her room and even set a tea cup for both of you.

Right now Jungkook doesn't care about anyone else rather than you. He even hurt his sister for you. He made his way towards you, grabbing your wrist hard while looking in his eyes.

You look at him, you're scared, his look is terrifying you. You don't know whether you want to cry or be fearless. He hates it when you have tears in your eyes. You're forbidden to cry.

"Didn't I told you to never leave that room?!" He shouted making you flinch. You're so close to crying but he ruthlessly caresses your cheek and whispered. "Don't you dare break another rules or else there will be a worst punishment for you. Come on put on that beautiful smile"

You gulp and slowly put on a smile. He smiled back before letting go of your hand leaving a red fresh mark of his fingers.

"That's right doll, my beautiful doll should never break the rules or else I'll be fcking the shit out of you." He smirk before pulling you out of the room leaving his sister crying behind.

As soon as he locked the door he came to one of his knight and said. " Hung the princess upside down. She needs to learn her lesson." The king left while holding your hands not wanting to let go.

Every mistake have some consequence and since you broke the rule you have to pay for it.

Your thr'at is burning in pain. Tears building inside your eyes. But you have to hold it, you can't cry or else he would do something worst.

Throwing his head back while m'aning. Your mouth is so warm and he loves it. He couldn't get over the feeling of pleasure you're giving him while you're on your knees s'cking his c'ock.

He's high. This could be the d'ath of him. Not he knew he's not only addicted to your beauty but also to your body tension. He will surly do it everyday without a missed.

Soon you felt a warm think creamy and salty liquor in your mouth. It's like an explosion. He released a heavy sigh before turning his head to you. He smiled as he caresses your cheek while slowly pulling out his man. He closes your mouth before a drip of cum even fell off your mouth.

"Swallow. Swallow it all without wasting anything. Be a good doll you are to your king."

You did as he said.

It's midnight when you're suddenly awaken by the princess. You can see the bruises on her face through the light that is coming from the moon.

"I-I don't wanna do this but k-king oppa is hurting you, I heard you screaming. He's turning into a monster so I'm here to save you doll." The little princess said while trying to pull you but you don't know whether you have to follow her or not. You don't want the king to get mad at you and even be punish.

"No I can't ell. I owe him alot, I'm not your doll anymore. I'm the king's Doll now. Look at me. He made me a human just like you and for that I have to pay for it. But don't worry you will always be my favorite owner." You smiled at her but that doesn't change her mind.

She just keep on pulling you out of the room while avoiding to made any noise so that the king won't wake up from his sleep.

"Come on let's run away from here. He's a monster" The princess said and started running out of the castle while holding your hand. You couldn't do anything but to just follow her.

The king woke up from his sleep after getting the news that his sister run away with Yn. He's burning mad. He doesn't care about his sister anymore all he care about is you.

He almost give up everything he has just to turn you into a human like him and there's no one he will just let anyone take you away from him. You're his doll and no one else can own other than him.

Jungkook entered the old almost haft ruined house and search for someone. As soon as he saw the old lady he made his way towards her and lay down his child that is only a months old.

The witch look at the king Infront of him "I want to to turn my little sister into a doll in exchange of my child." He said making the witch laugh and immediately agreed.

His wife and son are not important to him. Jungkook married his wife because of his father while the son is not his own but from a villager that his wife fell for even before marrying Jungkook so they're just useless to him.

All he needs right now is you and he would do anything just to get you back.

[lgbtimelords]

a fanfic i'll never write, part 1:

is a mirror just a reflection (or is it the door to a parallel universe)

Dreams are a weird thing.

The lapse between unconsciousness and consciousness. The moment fleeting images show up in your mind and sometimes, they quickly leave. You’re not supossed to remember them, books say. It’s repressed memories, repressed ideas, some that are kept that way for a reason. Most people don’t want to know what they mean. They don’t want to dive into the depths of their minds.

Not her, thought.

The dreams, the weird and inconsistent dreams she has every night, are the only thing she has any autonomy over. Her mind is hers. Even if sometimes it feels like her body isn’t.

They train her. Guide her. Mold her into turning into what they want, into what Alex wants. But not her mind. They can’t take away her mind, her thoughts, her dreams.

And even though part of her knows these aren’t her dreams. She still holds them close, thinks about them. Tries to analyze them, for a lack of something better to do.

She dreams of darkness. And solitude.

She sees punch after punch land against her face, seconds from each other, even though the person above her always has a different face.

She dreams of bodies falling on top of each other, unmoving and pale as they fall to the floor. Althought she never recognizes any of the faces.

She feels pain, always, in one way or another, across her entire body. Nails cursing through her blood and she’s unable to make it stop. Except it does stop, when she wakes up. Even if her beating heart and the residual pain she can almost-feel are still there.

She doesn’t know what they mean and the classic literature books that are mailed to her bring little answers. Just more questions. Just more ideas and thoughts they want to carve into her mind. She doesn’t let it. She tries to argue back with the books that offer no feedback and when Alex arrives, she tells them she agrees with the books- lets him smirk satified as she puts on her clueless face.

She wasn’t always like this. She did fall for his games. She did let him mold her mind. At first. It wasn’t until her tenth reread of The Great Gatsby that she realized it was the only act of defiance she had done against Alex- reading a book. She realized how much he hated her thoughts on it, even though her outlook was a nice one.

Why wouldn’t Alex want me to see beauty?

But she wanted to see beauty. Beauty outside of the compound she’s been confined in. But beauty seems like such a foreing concept to her. What is beauty? The dresses women describe in her books? The money and lavish jewels she’d never seen? The music she’d never heard? The beautiful people her guards describe during their breaks?

She’s not sure she has ever seen beauty. But she wants to. She desperatly wants to.

But she can’t get out.

Her life is just the couple hundred of miles that belong to this section of the Kaznian army. Her sleeping cuarters are not more than four old and empty walls. The training grounds are not more than snowy ground and thick cold air.

And she spends, day and nights, training and reading and studying. For what? She’s never told.

She learns to control her powers to the fullest. Reach their limit and know when to stop right before they leave her body completely.

She learns every language on this planet, Alex quizzing her on all of them until she’s better than him. She learns to mimic every accent and dialect under the sun- for what? She’s never told.

And months pass. Months after months after months. Alex comes and goes, like always.

He comes and goes, but the dreams are always there.

---

The ground is shaking. A lot. She faintly hears objects falling to the floor. Glass breaking. People screaming. She hears pain- like when she heard Mikhail call it out. But she cannot move now. She cannot fly away into the sun and offer her help.

She hears pain. Her feet are stuck on the ground unable to move. And she hears pain, a lot of it.

Someone tugs her arm, forces her legs to move and follow after them. She looks up- and it’s the first time she realizes how close to the ground she is- and finds the back of someone’s head. A man, looks like.

He screams words over his shoulder in a languaje she can’t understand because all she hears is pain. And she notices, when the tall man kneels in front of her, that she’s the one screaming in pain. Fear. Sadness. Confusion.

The man, eyes that she’d seen in her own reflection before, soothes her with his words. And even though she cannot know what he’s saying, she understands the meaning. “Stay calm, inah. It’ll be over soon.”

He picks her in his arms, and she hides her face in the crook of his neck. Hides away the screaming and breaking of estructures she knows they shouldn’t be falling, and takes comfort in the man’s colony and his soft clothes.

But the small comfort is ripped away when suddenly she’s not in his arms anymore. She’s alone. And it’s cold. Everything is so cold. The chair she’s sitting in is cold. Her clothes, which are supposed to bring her warmth, are cold. Her hands are cold. And when her fingers slowly trace the glass in front of her, it’s cold too.

Although the cold isn’t the worst part. It’s the darkness. There’s nothing to see. Nothing to feel. Just her. Alone. Looking forward and never backward to empty darkness.

And then there’s a light. It’s big and blinding. And fear spikes throughout her body even though she’s not sure why. She does not know what the flames are for.

The flames get closer and closer and closer. The surrond the small crystal box she’s in. And so, she screams.

----

Red daughter, they call her.

Or snowbird, for a lack of a better name.

But after a year of her solitude- or, at least, solitude surrounded by people that only spoke to her for a couple of second- Alex tells her her name is Kara.

That her life was taken by an impostor, and that he’ll help her get it back.

And if there’s a shadow behind Alex’s eyes that makes her schomach turn, she doesn’t mention it.

---

She’s flying, faster than she’s ever flown. She’s flying with a clear direction, closer and closer to her target.

She doesn’t really know what her target is until she sees the plane in front of her eyes. She quickly realizes something is wrong. The couple of planes she’d seen in the sky always flew flawlessly and at a constant speed but this one, this one moves through the air carelessly and speedily. There’s no direction, the plane only falls and falls, closer and closer to the city buildings.

She knows she has to save it. There’s people there. She knows it. But most importantly, her heart is telling someone even more important than all of them is there too.

She keeps on flying. Her limbs feel heavy. She feels disorientated. But she keeps on flying.

When her hands touch the base of the plane, there’s a small jump of exciment on her heart but then-

It’s like her hands run out of strength and the grip she had on the plane gives out and she watches as it goes down and down and down.

The plane hits a skycrapper in an explosion and she cannot move. She watches as the fires burn, the building falls, the few people still alive scream. And she doesn’t move.

Her heart is screaming for something, someone. She doesn’t know who.

The tears cover her face in and out of the dream.

---

Alex starts to show her the world.

“Again,” he says, “because Kara Danvers stole your life and memories from you.”

He shows her one city a day. She sees the children dying of hunger while rich men drown in their riches. She sees little towns burn because of big factories.

“So,” she starts, uncertain, “I am Kara Danvers?”

“Not yet. Once you kill her, you will be.”

She sees so many awful things in this world, she begins to understand why Alex is so full of hate. But the only thing keeping her from following him blindly is not his hatred, but his refusal to see the beauty, the love, the hope.

His face at the mention of the last word leaves a heavy weight on her heart.

---

She hears Christmas music.

She hates this one.

She’s standing in the middle of an empty street. She looks around, wondering which one will show up first this time.

The man in the black suit shows up first. He’s always wearing the same thing- a black piece of clothing that covers his entire body, with a symbol on his chest. She always gets a sense of deja-vu when she looks at it, but she never remembers what it means.

“I win,” he says. And even though she cannot see his face, all she sees is a blurry silluete where his face should be, she can tell there’s a smirk in his face anyway.

He punches her, making her lip burst out with blood. She falls to her knees.

When she opens her eyes again, a woman that looks like her is above her. Dirty blonde hair but blueish skin. Her voice always sounds distorted but she also says “I win.” before punching her too.

A red robot is next. He sends a wush of wind her way, making her fall to her knees. She sees someone’s shadow on the broken floor below her before she feels them kick her in her back- it makes her fly again, it’s another woman this time, one with a dark clothes and a mask covering her face.

Her punches hurt the most, they leave her gasping for air and wishing she’d finally wake up. And she does wake up, once they reach the top of a bulding and the other woman lets her drop.

She falls and falls and falls until she’s consious again and screaming in fear, waking up her guards.

---

Alex leaves her alone in a cute little apartment- her apartment. The one that was stolen from her by the impostor that looks just like her.

The apartment is nice. Homey. Just one big space divided into kitchen, dining room, living room and bedroom by the setup of the furniture and one big curtain. And it feels weird and painful that, when she walks around and touches what it’s supposed to be hers, she finds no familiarity in them.

She finds that sense of deja vu only twice; when she sees that picture in the fridge, the one of two women together- herself or the impostor, she’s not sure, and someone else. Brunette, short hair, kind smile. Alex.

Why does the impostor have an Alex? Was there always two Alexs? Which one is the real Alex? Which one is the real Kara? The real her? Is she the impostor?

There’s a thightness in her chest- it takes her a while to realize it’s just emptiness. Empty like her memories. Empty like the walls in her room. Empty like her heart. And there’s nothing to fill the hollowness in her except maybe wish, hope, pray that she is actually real and this impostor has stolen everything from her.

Except it doesn’t look like it. Except she’s only got Alex’s words to believe and she’s not sure how much of them believes anymore.

She feels nothing, absolutely nothing, as she walks around her own things. She guesses she should feel recognition, maybe a sense of deja vu or of belogning. But all she feels is nothing, only curiosity and anger at best. She could be anywhere, an apartment that isn’t hers, and feel the same. She doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.

But then. She sees it.

The portrait sits on the right bedside table. It’s modern, white background and small red hearts all over it. But it’s not that that catches her attention, it’s the picture in it.

The smile on her face- her impostor’s face- is so big, so happy, so excited. She didn’t even know she could smile that big. The blonde’s got her arms wrapped around someone else, a woman, who’s sutting comfortably atop her lap. She’s all dark hair and pale skin, she’s got one arm around her shoulders, pulling each other as close as possible.

Her smile is as big as her double’s and she’s the most beautiful woman she’s ever seen.

And that’s when she feels it. The pang. The ache.

Right in the middle of her heart. As if seeing this woman had suddenly pulled a thread, making her walk closer and closer and closer to the picture until she’s picking it up. Her fingers slowly tracing her face. The sharp line of her jawline, moving to her cheekbones and stopping as soon as her own eyes land on green ones.

It’s like they’re magnetic. Hypnotic, perhaps. And she wants more. More of those eyes and that face. She needs to see in more than a picture, she needs to find the woman because, if only a mere picture could cause such a reaction on her, then what will the real thing do?

She needs to find the woman. She needs to see her. She needs to find her name.

She does so in the pages of Kara Danver’s dairy. She finds it rather quickly. Pages and pages written about Lena. Over and over again. Only interrupted from time to time but other names like Cat, Brainy, Nia, Kelly, Alex. But Lena is the one that catches her attention the most, because every time she reads it, her heart jumps in a way it doesn’t do with anyone else.

And she knows, deep down part of her knows, this woman help her. Will fix her. Give her back her memories.

In the last pages of the diary, she finds a quote written by her (but which her? The impostor? Or herself, before she lost her memories?) on a ripped out magazine page that supports her own hunch.

Lena doesn't realize how much potential she has. I hope now at least the world will.

“Lena Luthor,” she whispers, wonder runs through her veins at the name.

And it’s enough. It’s all she needs. The name and a location.

It’s not long before she’s walking down the streets of National City, stolen glasses on her face and borrowed clothes on her body, moving through the sea of people as she heads to L-corp.

The people at the front door and desk do nothing to stop her nor ask her any questions. They just wave at her, all smiles and excited hellos. She knows they think she’s the other Kara, the one that knows what her place is here. But she is Kara, right? Or at least she was.

A part of her is thankful they do nothing to stop her, her journey to Lena easier than she thought it’d be as anyone that crossed her pointed her in the direction of the woman. While part of her is annoyed that her security is so lacking. What if she was an enemy? What if she was here to hurt Lena?

The rush of protectiveness is sudden, it creeped on her like Alex’s name had. It hadn’t been there and, suddenly, it was. And she couldn’t make it disappear. It only defeates once she sees Lena, safe and sound as she finishes talking to someone and walking into the elevator.

[aettuddae]

funky — chapter 66.

➵ synopsis: aeri takes her members to a music festival to introduce them to her newly made friend, jeon minki, the front person of a popular rock band in south korea. after seeing minki, karina, aespa's leader, becomes completely starstruck with the rockstar, and decides to find a way to make them fall in love with her, even though minki is the most clueless person in the universe.

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[half written chapter]

"so..." the people in the back of the car were engaged in conversation. "did you kiss somi?" said yunjin curiously.

"yes." admitted aeri with a shy smile.

"so what's up? are you guys a thing now?" yizhuo popped in excitedly.

"i guess." replied the girl in a whisper, trying to hide her blush. "i mean, she just invited me on a date tomorrow." she specified after taking a breath and calming her nervousness.

"minki, how does it feel like that your best friend is going to be your sister-in-law?" minjeong addressed them.

"you go, girl!" they exclaimed with a big smile on their face, to which the girls squealed, copying their excitement. "you both deserve to be happy with someone who treats you well." they added with sincerity.

"aw, i love you, boo." aeri blew a kiss to the rearview mirror to make sure they saw her.

"and i, you, boo." they pretended to catch their friend's flying kiss and dropped it on their cheek.

jimin, right next to minki, was admiring this whole interaction full of tenderness. she loved seeing her friend happy and surrounded by people who loved her, and then there was how it made her mind churn to see the person she liked smiling and so cheerful.

it felt like she was finally in the presence of the minki she was supposed to meet when she returned from the united states.

minki moved their gaze from the road for just a second, but it was time enough to find the girl in the passenger seat smiling as she looked at them. they could also see her put on a serious expression the moment she realized she was caught.

the rest of the ride continued with small talk between the girls in the back, while the two in the front tried to completely ignore each other's existence.

"we've arrived." announced the one driving as they parked outside the building where the aespa dormitories were located.

yizhuo, minjeong and aeri started to grab their things, but before they got out of the car, jimin spoke up.

"you guys go first, i want to talk to minki."

and everyone in that car tensed up at such words.

"sure..." rambled aeri, thinking. "yeah..." she mumbled out again. "come on, yunjin." she ordered, this time sure of what to do.

"huh?" the girl looked at them confused. "but... i don't live here."

"do you want grape juice?" offered yizhuo trying to act as normal as possible.

"i don't know," the girl was totally puzzled. "do i want grape juice?"

"yes you do, let's go." minjeong took her hand and started dragging her out of the vehicle.

"min-ah, i'm going to get some grape juice, but i'll be right back, okay?" she warned her friend. "you two..." she analyzed the people who would be left in there. "don't kill each other meanwhile." she warned and left with the others.

after the other girls left, only jimin and minki were left in the vehicle, silence reigning.

neither dared to speak to the other, until the younger girl's voice was heard.

"i think we need to clear up a couple of things." she blurted out.

minki just nodded. they didn't know what to say, the tension was killing them, and the truth was they were too bad at showing their feelings, so they waited for her to speak first.

"jaemin and i don't have anything, he's gay and has a boyfriend." she picked up again the topic they had left earlier at the party. "the pictures..." she took a breath of air to calm her anger and the nerves from being there alone with them. "we were talking about how happy we were at that moment. he was telling me about jeno, his boyfriend, and i," she thought about whether she should say the following, but she really had nothing to lose. "i was happy because you showed up in my life." she revealed. "we were drunk and mellow, so we hugged, and that's it."

minki took a moment of silence to take in what they were discovering. but really, it was just them thinking about what an idiot they were.

"so," the girl spoke up again to break the silence. "how did that end up in you fucking your band mate?"

for a moment, minki even thought they could cry while thinking how poorly they acted with this girl. but after that question, they got upset again.

"i'm not fucking my band mate." they stated.

"it sure looks like you are." jimin contradicted.

"i saw you with someone else and thought it was obvious that the moment someone more interesting, attractive, or whatever, came along, i stopped being what you wanted." they confessed bitterly. "and i thought it was my fault because i allowed someone to have the chance to make me feel that way."

"well, that's a problem that could've been fixed through talking and not blocking anyone." she raised her hands showing obviousness. "but how did you end up fucking your band mate? i don't get that part." the black haired girl brought a finger to her chin, tapping it gently, pretending to think.

"rosé made me feel chosen." they said simply. "and i was hurt, i had the wrong perception of you at the time. it just happened." they finished.

"oh, so, it just happened!" jimin made quotation marks as she remarked on the last sentence. "great, it makes me feel excellent to know that the thing that's been hurting me for the past few days just happened." she assured angrily.

"you made me feel like shit and she made me feel like i would never have to go through something like that because of her!" they developed further.

"and yet you swear there's nothing going on between you." she mentioned incredulously.

"there isn't." they said again. "it happened only once because i doubted you, but at the end of the day, you're the one that i want."

"well, buddy, you won't have me until i'm sure you won't doubt me anymore." she unfastened her seat belt. "and until i know i can stop doubting you." she opened the door next to her.

"then, the roles have turned around." minki pointed out.

"what are you talking about now?" she complained, putting a leg outside.

"now i'm the one who has to win you over." they replied with a playful grin.

"win me over again, mind you." stressed the younger girl, getting completely out of the car.

"won't you give me my goodnight kiss?" they said in a fun way before jimin closed the door.

"no, you still smell like rosé." she made a disgusted expression and finally closed the car.

[pearbunny]

the bucket list ✘ [three]

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summary: Fly to Korea. Check. Buy a bouquet of flowers for a stranger. Check. Have said stranger come along with you to accomplish your bucket list? Well that wasn’t on the list, but falling in love was. 

pairing: han jisung x afab!reader

genre: 18+ [MDNI] strangers to lovers, non idol au, crack, mostly fluff, later chapters to include: angst, comfort, smut.

general warnings:  tourist!mc, adult themes including but not limited to: suggestive content, nudity, cursing, alcohol consumption, mentions of death in later chapters, overarching theme of mental health, eventual smut.

word count: ~3.4k 

chapter content: Flirting, mentions of self-image insecurities, mentions blood, bad sleeping habits, Jisung is aa dork and we love him. author's note: still got a couple of fluffy chapters before we get a lil serious, but hey at least m/c is starting to realize she's physically attracted to him, right?

Early in the morning, you sneak out of the front door, taking Jisung’s keys to the apartment that he always left on the kitchen counter. Your sleep schedule was all sorts of messed up because of the jetlag, so you figured that since you were awake so early, you might as well grab coffee for the both of you. 

You werequick to come back and you thought you had successfully snuck in and out of the apartment without Jisung waking up, but when you opened the door, Jisung was at the kitchen island, replacing the water to the bouquet you had bought him two days ago. 

You place the drinks down and lock the door behind you. “Good morning, I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet.”

Jisung shakes his head and puts the vase of flowers by the window sill. “No. Not at all.” He comes back towards the kitchen to grab his iced americano. “But you could let me know you were awake so that I could have gone with you.”

“What time did you wake up?” You finally take your shoes off by the door, then head towards the couch to get comfy. 

He sits next to you and takes his phone out to check the time. “Three hours ago? I don’t know, I didn’t really check the time.”

“What?! Do you even sleep?” 

“Yeah, I do, but... I don’t know; sometimes it’s hard. I just end up laying in bed thinking.” 

You frowned at him, “Have you tried Sleepy Time Tea?”

He laughs a little, he thinks the name is a little silly. “I haven’t, but I honestly just have a messed up sleep schedule. On the weekdays I will usually work the night shift, and then on weekends I work until 3am.” 

“Oh, so you’re usually asleep during the day?” 

“You know, now that I think about it.. I don’t think I sleep much, but I do take naps in between whenever I can.” He laughs at himself.  “Uh, hm…” He hesitates, unsure about the next sentence. “I used to go to the gym a lot after shifts, but I stopped going so it’s been a struggle finding a different routine.”

“Ooo, buff Han Jisung era?” You jokingly raised your brows up and down in a suggestive manner. “I would have loved to have seen that.” 

Jisung looks offended for a moment as he rolled up his t-shirt sleeve over his shoulder and flexed his bicep right in front of your eyes. “I’m still buff!” 

You blinked, long and hard, then stood up, clearing your throat. “Get ready. We’ve got a bucket list to finish.” You walked away into the guest room and closed the door behind you, only to lean on it and slide yourself down into a sitting position on the floor. 

“Why are we here?” Jisung asks over your shoulder, waiting patiently while you stare at a shelf at the art store.

“Well,” You sigh in defeat and spin around to face him. There's a slight frown on your face. “I’m trying to find the appropriate materials for the next bucket list adventure, but I’m not quite sure what I’m… looking for.”  You turn back around to the items on the shelf. 

Jisung stands beside you and follows your lead. It's obvious he was  just as clueless. There's a moment of silence before he turns his head towards you. “So... what are we doing?” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that escapes your lips. “Next up on the list is "Draw a Portrait of Someone'” You make your way to another aisle, deciding to stay away from the paints and brushes. “But everything is so expensive.” 

Jisung follows behind you. “Oh. Is this another one of those go up to a stranger and draw a portrait kind of thing?” 

You stop in front of some fancy sketchbooks. You open one up and feel the quality of the paper; it was hardstock with a rough texture to it. You turned the book and looked at the price and quickly put it back, shaking your head. You glance your eyes to Jisung who had a playful pout on his lips. “I was thinking we could do each other, but I can find so–”

“No!” He cut you off, “I don’t think I could handle you falling for another stranger!” He feigns being hurt, a hand over his heart, clutching the fabric of his shirt. 

You rolled your eyes, “Jisung, you think too highly of yourself.”

“I’m kidding,” He emphasizes. He walks down the aisle and picks up a notebook. “Do we really need this stuff? We could just use some old notebook paper I have back at the apartment and some crappy pencils.” 

You raised a brow, “You have notebooks?” 

He looked at you, deadpanned. “Yes.”

“And pencils?”

“Yes?” He was looking at you weird now. 

“Oh… I guess I just didn’t realize people still wrote things down on paper.” You shift your weight, feeling a little awkward. “Figured everyone just used their phone.” 

Jisung leads the way out of the art store, shaking his head with his hands stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah, but what happens if I lose my phone?”

You follow behind him, quickly catching up to his longer strides to walk beside him. "Well, it would be saved into the cloud I would hope."

"Well yeah, that's true," He nods as he continues to walk in the direction of the apartment. "But at what point does the cloud just stop working?"

You raise an inquiring brow at him.

He laughs gently and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm just saying that eventually, years and years and years down the line, there won't be physical copies of anything. Maybe I want something to be remembered like that."

"I never thought you'd be so sentimental."

As he turns into the building, he walks backwards into the door to hold it open for you. "Oh, so you think of me often?" He smirks at you.

You walk past him and roll your eyes hard, making sure he saw you. "You think you're so funny."

Jisung opens the door to his room, stepping aside to let you in first. “This is where I spend… most of my time. If I’m not at work.” 

“Where do you work by the way?” You step into the room, looking around at your surroundings. 

"I'll take you there sometime."

"Ooo," You look at him playfully, "Is it a host bar?"

He laughs, "Do you think I'd be a good fit for a host bar?"

You decide not to answer and instead, take a look at his room. It wasn’t exactly the way you had thought it would be. You thought it would be like every other guy’s room, extremely minimal with very little personality. To your surprise, he had a lot of belongings. You couldn’t help but smile at the small pile of plushies on his bed. 

He sees you looking at them and cleared his throat. “They’re from when I was younger.” 

You reached out to pick up one specific plush and patted its head. “This Pikachu didn’t come out until last year. I would know, I couldn't find a seller that still had it for months after it released.” You laugh at his embarrassed expression and place the Pikachu back down on his bed, moving on to the rest of his room. 

You walk towards a keyboard, fingers grazing over its keys. “Do you play?” 

“Yeah. Since I was 6.” Jisung watches you in the middle of his room with his eyes following you as you make your way around it.  

You nod silently and move on towards the corner that had an instrument cased propped up between a wall and a bookshelf. “Guitar too?” 

“I dabble.” 

You look through the books on his bookshelf, surprised to find numerous genres. Some manga, some horror stories, even a book about blue whales. There are a couple of textbooks as well, history and language specifically.

"Oh, you really do like physical copies of things, huh?" Your fingers touch over the spine of some CD cases. "Do you carry around a walkman too for your burned CDs?"

"No, of course not, I just like to buy my favorite albums is all."

Looking into Jisung’s room was like getting a look into who he truly was. If you're being honest with yourself, you're a little relieved that he was kind of a nerd. You find it dorky, cute, and very endearing. It was very much a breath of fresh air to find someone who didn't really care about what other people thought.

Finally, up against the wall adjacent to the window, is Jisung’s desk. He's got multiple monitors set up. There's the one in the center, curved, and to the left of it was a monitor that is turned vertical. Above the both, looked to be a large TV screen. There are little trinkets under the monitors: a cat shaped stress ball, a small figurine of what looked to be an anime girl, and a smaller metal figurine of a wolf. Next to the desk was a pretty substantial mic recording set up. 

“You make music?” 

“Uh. Sometimes.” He chuckles nervously, hurriedly going towards the bookshelf. He pulls out two notebooks, trying to change the subject. You find it really cute how shy he was being.

“Can I listen one day?” 

Jisung grabs a couple of pencils from a cup on his desk and bites on his lower lip, finally looking you in the eyes. “That seems like a third date kind of thing.”

Subconsciously, you hold your breath at the thought, a weird feeling in your stomach, akin to butterflies. 

For a dork, he was pretty smooth. 

“Wanna go to Hangang Park?” 

You sit on top of Jisung’s coat that he had brought specifically for you to sit on so your jeans wouldn’t get any grass stains on them. The both of you had found a spot that was shaded under a large tree, near a pedestrian pathway, on a slight hill to give you both the view of the Han River. 

While Han makes sure there were no ant hills around, you take a moment to look through the notebook he had given you. The margins are filled with doodles and comics, but its contents are of what seem like notes from a language class. 

“Okay. No bugs. No ants. We should be okay.” Jisung sits next to you and you shuffle your weight around to sit facing him. 

You hand him the other notebook and a pencil. “Okay, please don’t judge me if I can’t draw very well.” 

Jisung scrunches up his nose and shakes his head, “I’m sure I’ll like it either way:” He opens the notebook up and bends his knees towards his chest, using his legs as a makeshift drawing table. He holds the pencil in between his middle finger and thumb delicately, sketching very lightly on the paper. He glances back and forth between the paper and you. “How serious are we taking this? Can I just draw a stick figure?” 

You shake your head no with a small giggle and give a huff shortly afterwards, feigning annoyance. “Give it your best! I know I will, I want you to look at it and be amazed at how good of an artist I am. You're going to wanna frame this.” 

“Even if it wasn’t a Picasso, I’d still hang it up on the kitchen fridge.” 

“Gee, thanks mom.”  Your voice was dripping with sarcasm. 

Jisung gives you one last smile over his notebook before he focuses on sketching. 

The silence between you too is comfortable. Instead of idle chit chat, it is the sounds of pencils sketching on paper, birds chirping, the soft hum of cars on the road, people playing together by the river, the sound of a couple of bikes and the little ringing of their bells off in the distance. 

It's nice. 

You look up from your sketch momentarily. You took a drawing class back in high school, which lead you to taking more art classes in college, but you were never too serious about it; you just like sketching. Especially people. It was always fun to learn about a person just by studying their features so closely.

You draw out his brow bone that protrudes out from his forehead in a soft manner. His high cheekbones match in height, and his cheeks, even in concentration, rounds out to his sharp jawline. You sketched out his general features, starting with his nose and how it sloped downward at the tip. The shape of his lips: the bottom fuller than the top. 

 “Look up at me?”

He does as told and once you nod to signal that you had gotten what you needed, you both went back to sketching.

His eyes are wider in the inner corners and came together in a slight point upwards, his lashes are long and pointed straight down; you momentarily have a thought about how guys always had better lashes than you. 

You look back up at him, staring at his lips to make sure you had gotten the overall shape right. You frown when you weren’t getting it right. You glance back and forth between the sketch and Jisung, making minute adjustments. The corners of his lips naturally has a soft curve upwards, and although his top lip is thinner than his bottom, he has a decently pronounced cupid’s bow, which probably adds to the natural way his lips look like he was pouting most of the time. 

You squint at your drawing. You were so fixated on his lips. It was probably your favorite feature of his, but there was something off about it. You look back up at him, brows furrowing as you concentrate on his lips, dead set on getting it right. You sigh in frustration. 

“You okay?” 

The lips you had been staring at move and the deep voice behind it startle you, not expecting it at all. You were so lost in the task at hand, you forgot that he was actually there in front of you.

“Sorry, I just…” Your voice trails off. Admitting that you were staring at his lips, even if it were for the drawing, is embarrassing. 

He laughs and smiles at you for just a moment before he goes back to sketching, his lips falling back to a concentrated state. 

That movement was enough to give you what you needed. His bottom lip casted a shadow onto his chin, which you shade in to give that full pouty effect. 

“I think I’m almost done…” Jisung’s pencil strokes grow heavy as he finishes. “M’hm, done!” He exclaims, then turns his back to you before laying down in the grass. He looks up at you, his notebook against his chest, drawing face down so you wouldn’t be able to see it.

He tries to sneak a peek from his position on the ground by your legs, but you quickly turn your drawing away from him. “Not until I’m finished.”

“You’re taking so long, you better be getting every little detail of my handsome face.”

You refuse to look him in the eye, only catching glimpses of the smug look on his face through your peripherals. You notice a scar on the outer corner of his right eye. “What happened here?” You place the pad of your finger on your own face. 

“Ah,” He raises a hand in the air above his face to shield himself from the bright rays of sun. “When I was younger, I was running around in my classroom and I fell and hit my head on a desk and well…” He pauses his story momentarily to laugh at the memory, “I didn’t even notice it was bleeding until my teacher made a big deal about it. On the bright side, I got to go home early that day.” 

You couldn’t help but to smile fondly at the idea of Han Jisung as a child. “Were you a good kid?”

He scoffs and turns on his side to look at you. “Definitely not. My dad called me a naughty kid. Always had to take me to the hospital because I was just so clumsy.” He points at a scar in the center of his forehead. “I got this one because I was riding my tricycle around a parking lot. I was doing laps like I was a racecar driver or something and when I crossed the imaginary finish line, I threw my hands up in the air and crashed into a garden.” He rolls his eyes, recounting that specific memory and sighed. “I was such a dumb kid.” 

Silence overtakes you again as you go back to your drawing and you add the scar on his forehead. 

“What about you?” 

“Huh?” You don’t look away from your drawing, trying to hurry up and finish.

“Your eyebrow,” Jisung is looking up at you, his eyes examining your features as you had done to him. “It looks like you have a scar.” 

“Oh,” You kept sketching. “When I was a baby and just starting to learn how to walk, I busted it when I tried to stand up right under a table.” You rub at your brow where the scar was. “Actually, my mom used to tell me all the time that I was perfectly fine. I wasn’t crying at all! Then she picked me up and started babying me and that's when I started crying.” The smallest smile plays on your lips. “She called me her little actress.” 

“Have you ever tried acting?”

“No. God, no. I’m horrible at acting. I’m so easily read”.

“Okay!” You hold the notebook away from you, admiring your work. “I’m ready to share mine.” 

Jisung sits up and turns to face you again. “Don’t expect too much from me, I am not an artist at all.” He turns his notebook over to show you his drawing. 

You tilt your head with a smile, reaching out so you can bring the sketch closer for inspection. If he hadn’t told you he wasn’t an artist, you wouldn’t have believed him. He was definitely being modest, or maybe he just pays attention to all the small things on your face that made you you.

You weren’t immune to comparison and insecurities. Everyday was a battle. It could be as simple as the way your jeans felt on you that day, the way your hair refused to cooperate, maybe even the fact that you had to try an extra five times to get your eyeliner right. But the way Jisung had drawn you, it wasn’t about the way you looked; it was about what he had chose to emphasize: the kindness in your eyes, the concentration of your lips, the passion in your furrowed brows while you drew the portrait of him. 

To see yourself through someone else’s eyes was amazing, and to see yourself through Jisung’s eyes… 

Well, it was bringing a sort of warmth to your cheeks, a dizzying feeling in your head.

You exhale deeply and close your eyes, a little overwhelmed. When you open your eyes again, Jisung was looking up at you, brows together in concern. “Wait, are you okay? Is it ugly? Because I’m sorry if it is, I told you I wasn’t good at drawing! You’re not ugly, I promise. I just suc–” 

“No, it’s great, Jisung. Really. Thank you.” You smile and place a hand over his, gently squeezing it to convey your gratitude. 

The look of concern on his face melted away to a bright smile. 

“Here.” You flip your notebook over to show him your drawing. 

“Wow, Y/N. I didn’t know you could draw.” 

You shrug your shoulders casually, like it was no big deal. “I took a couple of classes.” 

Jisung’s smile widens as he admires your work, then suddenly, he points at a spot on the notebook. “You forgot something.” 

“I did?” You lean over, looking at where his finger was. He's pointing at his cheek. You look up quickly and notice that you did miss something. You quickly dot your pencil on the sketch to correct your mistake. 

“I call it my chocolate chip.” He says above you, over your head. 

Slowly, you look up, nervous at your proximity. 

You weren’t looking him in the eyes. You couldn’t do that for a couple of reasons: 1) complete embarrassment. You are very much up in his personal space. 2) You absolutely 100% did not want to see if he was looking at you. 

So instead, you’re looking at his mole on his right cheek which was dangerously close to his lips. 

His lips parted slightly and it takes everything you have to stare at the mole.

You felt so dumb. What was he talking about? Chocolate chips?

“I– I  like chocolate.” You said. 

Out loud. 

You said that out loud. 

His lips are pulled apart now as he laughs loudly, leaning so far back he eventually falls. 

You take the opportunity to straighten your posture and glance over at his form: laying back down on the grass, arms crossed over his stomach clutching his sides as he laughs. 

You cover your face, absolutely mortified. 

After a while, Jisung catches his breath and places a hand on the crown of your head, ruffling your hair in the process. 

“Y/N, it’s okay!” He's trying to comfort you, but it only makes you more embarrassed.

You drag your hands down your face and groan out loud. “No! It’s not! I’m so embarrased.”  You start to gather your things, closing your notebook and placing the pencils back in your bag. 

“I like chocolate?” You repeat yourself. “I like chocolate?!” At this point, you're just mocking yourself. 

Jisung tries to hold back his laughter, standing up before you could. He offers you a hand to help you up and you take it. You’re about to say thank you, when instead he says, “Hey, a lot of people like chocolate.” 

The smirk on his face is too too much. 

“Ugh, Han Jisung, stop making fun of me!” Your face is beat red, You stomp off, trying to create space between you two so you could calm down from all the embarrassment. 

Jisung follows after you, laughing. 

ending author's notes: Was talking to my friend Nikki about how these two are so incredibly wholesome. Was also talking about how this fic does have a warning of eventual smut. Also mentioned that I couldn't wait to ruin that wholesome image. :)

taglist:

@burningchaosdeer @bat-shark-repellant @jisunglyricist @captivq @lixiel0ver @channieandhisgoonsquad @dalamjisung @laylasbunbunny @beanebabyy @hyunfilms @leyknxw @vixensss @cutiespaghetti

couldn't be tagged

[felixcloud6288]

Higurashi: Festival Accompanying Chapter 1

We know all the secrets surrounding June 1983, but we don't know everything leading up to that month.

Everything begins at some point likely around the mid 1950s. Before she was Miyo Takano, she was Miyoko Tanashi. She was scared of horror stories, loved collecting the flags that came with her kids meals, and loved her parents very much.

S-Save me r/vexillology!! I'm trying to identify all 19 of the flags Miyoko has collected.

The flags I can identify for sure:

Brazil: near the bottom center

Canada: near the center to the right of Brazil

China: in the top right corner

Denmark: In the top left, above South Korea and partially buried under two other flags

Finland: Above Denmark and slightly covering it up

France: The flag covering up Denmark

Germany: bottom left corner

Greece: Center far right

Japan: Near the center

South Korea: Center far left. Partially covered by the drawer wall

Switzerland: Bottom center, next to Brazil

Turkey: Bottom right corner

United Kingdom: Top Center

United States: Top center. Right above Canada

Meanwhile I think these are also in the pile:

Argentina or Austria: The flag under the Swiss and Brazilian flags. I'm leaning toward Argentina because red is drawn in darker shades

India: The flag at the top right above the US flag and partially covered by the drawer

Italy or Ireland: Flag to the right of Switzerland and above Turkey. I'm leaning more toward it being Italy.

I cannot figure out what the flag between Canada and Greece is. At first, I thought it was the Czech Republic, but the shading on this image doesn't match the Czech colors at all. And it's backward too. There's also a flag in the top right corner that is very hidden. All I can tell is it has white on the bottom. My guess is it might be Indonesia. I was also considering Estonia, but Estonia was under Soviet rule at this time and it was illegal to fly the Estonian flag.

I was really hoping the Mexican and South African flags might be in here.

You're placing a curse on your kid if you tell them god will give them happiness if they're good. You're telling them it is their fault when life happens and things fall apart. And almost as if on cue, Miyoko's life falls apart on the same day her father told her that. The only thing you could say she did wrong was she didn't hear her father when he called out to her.

Mr Tanashi losing his right hand in the train derailment is just twisting the knife. It's not enough that Miyoko's mother died in the accident and that she saw her father die. She's also denied one final headpat before he dies.

I want to try being fair to the social workers working on Miyoko's case. This is the mid 1950s. World War II ended at most a decade ago. Around 4% of Japan's population was killed in the war. Two cities were utterly destroyed, and there's the general economic collapse that comes from long-term military action.

No matter how much they may want to help, resources in this environment are stretched thin. Trying to find and contact a single person with no leads would likely be difficult today. It would be a herculean task in the 1950s.

And it's also this kind of scenario that lets an institution like the one Miyoko was sent to to exist. Those social workers were genuinely clueless about how that orphanage mistreats the children brought to it. They genuinely think they're providing the best possible solution given the situation, and the head of the orphanage knows how to put on a kindly face in front of them.

I genuinely don't know if the panel of the man patting Miyoko's head is real or her imagination. Him giving her even the slightest kindness is so out of character. And Miyoko grew up in the exact opposite of an abusive home. Her instinct when seeing someone raise their hand to her is expecting kindness and being utterly confused when she's hit instead.

I love and hate how that first slap to Miyoko is so perfectly executed. A full page image on the right half of the page spread. You just turn the page and see Miyoko violently slapped across the face. It's as sudden to us as it is to her. And right before it happens, the chapter implied that there is hope for her despite everything that's happened. But that one slap knocks the hope out of her and us.

back

[dontspillthefrijoles43]

Lost hero XIII- Breisa

Crashed landing…why would a flying dragon land that way?

Warning: Minor injuries, broken ankle, teenagers being teenagers, demigods being clueless Word count: 1557 Summary: AHHHHHHHH! 💥Crash! .....I think I broke my ribs...

Likes ❤️, Reblogs🔁, and comments 💬 very much appreciated!

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Breisa used to have a habit of being clumsy and tripping. 

She figured nothing beat free falling through the air at the speed of sound.

Far below she saw city lights glimmering in the early dawn, and several hundred yards away the body of the bronze dragon spinning out of control, its wings limp, fire flickering in its mouth.

A body shot past her—Leo, screaming and frantically grabbing at the clouds. “Not cool!” 

She tried to shout. But the force they were falling at knocked the wind out of her lungs. All she could manage were short gasps. 

Breisa had to think fast of the next best thing. She focused as hard as she could to try to levitate. 

But the fear of being pulverized into the ground was just too much. 

Something caught her arm and yanked her close—Jason and Piper. 

Piper screamed “You have leveled out! Stretch out your arms and legs!”

As the fall slowed down, she felt power coming from Jason. Whatever he was doing was working—but they lurched up and down like on a bad carnival ride. 

“Hav…get...Leo!” Piper yelled through the winds.

“...rough!” Jason shouted.

‘Wait what?!’ Breisa thought.

And they shot through the air like a bullet. 

Then whump, a warm body slammed into Breisa—it was Leo. She grabbed him as best as she could but he still wriggled and sweared.

“Stop fighting!” Breisa shouted, “It’s us!” 

“My dragon!” Leo yelled, “We gotta save Festus!”

An explosion rang below them. A fireball rolled into the sky from behind a warehouse complex, and Leo sobbed, “Festus!”

Jason’s face turned different colors of red and purple, he was straining himself too hard to keep them afloat. 

They bounced like going down a giant staircase, hundred feet at a time.

Breisa's eyes were straining against the wind—she could barely make out a factory complex where Festus crashed. It was made up of warehouses, smokestacks, barbed-wire fences, and parking lots lined with snow-covered vehicles.

Jason groaned, “I can’t—“

 And they dropped like stones. 

They hit the roof of the largest warehouse and crashed through into darkness. 

—

“¡HIJO DE PUTA!” Breisa swore. 

She landed on, now smashed—wooden crates. Pain shot through her ribs.

Jason's voice called in an echo, “Where’d they go? Where’s Piper?” 

“Ow, bro!” Leo groaned, “That’s my back! I’m not a sofa? Breisa?! Piper?! Where'd you guys go?!”

“Here.” Piper whimpered a few feet from Breisa.

“I’m right here too!” She forced herself up, and made her way towards Piper. 

Breisa stumbled a bit but found Piper trying to get up from a metal catwalk. But her left foot was pointing the wrong direction.

“¡Aye güey!” Breisa winced and helped her sit up.

Footsteps rushed up the steps beside the catwalk. 

Leo began to ask, “You two okay?” Then he froze as he saw Piper’s foot. “Ohh, no you’re not ok.”

“Thanks for the reassurance.” Piper groaned.

“You’ll be fine.” Jason tried not to sound worried. His voice failed him. “Do any of you have first aid supplies?”

Breisa rummaged through her bag—she found a bottle, pulled it up, and it read ‘antibacterial cream’. “Um, This could work? If the bone was sticking out..”

“Uh…” Jason turned, “How about you Leo?”

He dug around his tool belt, pulled some gauze and a roll of duct tape— which seemed too big for the belts pockets.

“How did you—” Piper tried to move her leg and winced. “How did you guys get those things?”

“Magic.” Leo and Breisa said in unison.

Piper raised an eyebrow. 

“My sister gave me a magic supply bag.” Breisa explained. “It works.” She was pleasantly surprised. 

“Magic tool belt.” Leo said, “I haven't figured it out completely. But I can summon just about any tool out of the pockets, plus some other helpful stuff.” He reached into another pocket, and pulled out a tiny tin box. “Breath mint?”

Jason snatched away the mints. “That’s great Leo. But can you fix her foot?”

“I’m a mechanic. Maybe if she was a car…” He trailed off.

“I think I can.” Breisa piped in. She tried remembering some of many first aid lectures from her aunt. She kneeled on the catwalk—slightly above Piper. “I’m going to need something to keep the pain away.”

Leo snapped his fingers at Jason. “Wait, what was that godly healing food they gave you bro— Rambo food?”

“Ambrosia dummy.” Piper said through gritted teeth,“There’s some in my bag, if it’s not crushed.”

Jason took her bag, and managed a ziploc bag with smashed pastry squares. He passed along.

“Here.” Breisa broke off a piece and fed it to her.

She relaxed a bit and demanded, “More.”

Jason frowned. “Piper, we shouldn’t risk it. They said too much could burn you up.”

“I’m guessing that should be enough for the pain anyway.” Breisa glanced at her awkwardly pointed foot. “I should set your foot.” 

Piper didn’t look so relaxed anymore. “Have you ever done that before?”

“Oh yeah bunch of times.” Breisa lied. “Leo,got anything I can use as a splint?”

 He found an old piece of wood and broke it in half. Then he handed her the gauze and duck tape. “Espero que sepas lo que estás haciendo.”

“I do…mostly.” She mumbled. “Jason, Leo— hold her leg still. Piper, this might hurt.”

Breisa counted to three in her head and snapped her foot in place.

 Piper shrieked, and sucker punched Leo in an arm—who screamed in a higher pitch than her.

“Fuck off.” He swore, catching Breisa trying to hold her laughter in. 

All together, they wrapped up Piper’s leg in makeshift splint. 

“Ow.” She winced, “Maybe next time we shouldn’t set my foot before the painkiller? That hurt like a bitch.”

“That hurt? Geez, beauty queen!” Leo rubbed his arm. “Glad my face wasn’t there.” 

“Sorry,” She said. “And don’t call me ‘beauty queen’, or I’ll punch you again.”

Breisa smiled, “You both did great.”

“We all did.” Jason passed Piper a water canteen. “Everyone else good? No server injuries?”

“Just some scratches.” Breisa waved off, but her side throbbed. She winced and clutched it. “Maybe a couple of bruises.”

“Definitely a bruised ego.” Leo was still rubbing his arm.

Jason handed both a piece of lemon squares.

It tasted like her dad’s arroz con leche. She felt the pain ease a bit.

Snowflakes fluttered through the hole in the roof.

Breisa just realized how old and abandoned this warehouse is.

Half broken tools around the floors and rusty machines. There were metals and wood materials in different directions. The place was tagged with graffiti. 

“What happened to the dragon?” Piper asked. “Where are we?” 

Leo’s expression turned sullen. “I don’t know with Festus. He just jerked sideways like he hit an invisible wall and started to fall.”

‘Hope you enjoy your trip demigod!’ The voice from the dream echoed. Breisa shuddered. 

Leo pointed to the logo on the wall. “As far as where we are …” 

It was hard to see through the graffiti, but  she could make out a large red eye with the stenciled words: Monocle motors, assembly plant 1. 

“Closed car plant,” Leo said. “I’m guessing we crash-landed in Detroit.” 

Breisa wondered how he would have known that. But he was the mechanic, she would second guess him. “How far is that from Chicago?”

Jason spoke,  “Maybe three-fourths of the way from Quebec? The thing is, without the dragon, we’re stuck traveling overland.” 

“No way,” Leo said. “It isn’t safe.” 

 Piper nodded. “He’s right. Besides, I don’t know if I can walk.”

Breisa butt in. “Four people—Jason, you can’t fly that many across the country by yourself. I’m not even sure I know how to magic us there.”

 “Right,” Jason said. “Leo, are you sure the dragon didn’t malfunction? Mean, Festus is old, and—”

“And I might not have repaired him right?” He puffed out his chest defensively. 

Breisa put her hand on his shoulder. She gave a look to both of them.

“I didn’t say that,” Jason protested. “It’s just—maybe you could fix it.” 

“I don’t know.” Leo sounded crestfallen. He pulled a few screws out of his pockets and started fiddling with them. “I’d have to find where he landed, if he’s even in one piece.” 

“It was my fault.” Piper spoke suddenly.

“Piper,” Jason said softly, “you were asleep when Festus conked out, it couldn’t have been your fault.”

“Yeah, you’re just shaken up.” Leo agreed 

“You're in pain. Just rest.” Breisa tried to put her at ease.  

Piper’s guilt only grew. She looked like she wanted to say more but she swallowed her words.

 Leo stood. “Look, um, why don’t you two stay with her? I’ll scout around for Festus. I think he fell outside the warehouse somewhere. If I can find him, maybe I can figure out what happened and fix him.” 

“It’s too dangerous,” Jason said. “You shouldn’t go by yourself.” 

“Ah, I got duct tape and breath mints. I’ll be fine,” Leo said, a little too quickly. “You guys just don’t run off without me.” 

Leo reached into his magic tool belt, pulled out a flashlight, and headed down the stairs, leaving Piper and Jason alone. With Breisa.

“I’m going after him.” She stood up awkwardly, “Uh scream if any trouble.”

“Be careful.” Jason called. 

Breisa gave a thumbs up and rushed down the steps. She took a deep breath and plunged out into the snow.

__

(A/N: Post again sometime again this month, sorry of my lack of motivation 😭, hoping to finish this fic before spring [April] . Hope you all enjoy this chapter :), did not plan on leaving another cliffhanger for too long)

[baby-girl-e]

Cowboy like me

Characters - Iceman x Maverick, Carole Bradshaw

Summary - Ice once called Maverick a Cowboy. Maybe he was right, but maybe Ice was a cowboy like him. 

Or Maverick gets invited to his cousin's wedding and Ice tags along as his secret lover. 

Word Count - 5k

Warnings - mentions of period typical homophobia

A/N - This one is massive, but she’s my baby so I don’t care. Cowboy like me by Taylor Swift is one of my favorite songs and it just SCREAMS Icemav in my head. I hope you like it and all of the lyric Easter eggs I’ve included :)

Maverick never thought he’d find love. Not in that ‘oh woe is me’ sort of way, but in the genuine way of, he just didn’t think it would happen. When he met Charlie he thought maybe he was wrong, he let himself believe it for just a moment. That moment was fleeting, she left without as much as a goodbye. Maverick was absolutely crushed, he vowed in that moment to never get his hopes up again. However his wingman apparently had other plans. Ice showed up at his door after he heard about the breakup with beer and pizza stating that he could wallow this one night and then he was done. Much to Mav’s surprise it actually worked, the day Ice demanded that he get over it he actually started to feel better. 

“Honestly Mav it would be embarrassing to be so put out by someone like her. She can’t even fly a jet and yet she wants to tell us how? No thanks.” 

Ice’s words, although harsh, were exactly what he needed to hear. He still built a brick wall around his heart, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore. 

He carried on like that for a while. Waking up, teaching at TOP GUN, hanging out with Ice, sleep, repeat. It was grossly mundane but it was working. He had a schedule and something to look forward to. He realized later that it was actually someone that he looked forward to. Ice was the best part of his day. If he did something he was particularly proud of, Ice was the first person he wanted to show. If there was a new movie out, he couldn’t imagine watching it with anyone else. 

Of course Maverick being Maverick he never thought of it as love. Why would he? He had deemed himself incapable and not allowed. Ice on the other hand was on a better track, unbeknownst to Maverick.

He remained clueless until one of his weekly phone calls with Carole when she tried to point out the obvious. 

“Peter Mitchell, you are so in love with that boy.”

“What? No Carole this is Ice. He’s a man.” 

Silence on the other end. Then a very dramatic sigh.

“Pete, my sweet angel. Did you know that you can fall in love with someone, even if they’re a boy?”

“Yes Carole-anne I know. But I’ve never even thought a guy was attractive, how can I be in love with one?”

He knew that woman enough to know she hated being called Carole-Anne, he was hoping to try and derail her choice of subject. In hindsight he should’ve known, this is Carole, she was the human epitome of ‘if there’s a will, there’s a way’. 

“There’s a first for everything sweetie. Will you indulge me, just this once? Just hear me out.” 

There was no way he’d get out of this, better to get it over with fast. 

“Fine Carole, but there’s no way this is going to end like you think it will.”

(Spoiler alert, it does)

“That’s the spirit! Okay, first question. And feel free to just answer these in your head if they’re too personal. When you wake up in the morning, who do you most look forward to seeing?”

“Hey, that's not fair. Ice is the only competent person I see all day. It’s either him, my students, or fucking Viper. We’re friends, it's not that weird.” 

“Okay, okay. Next question, when you called to tell me about that cat you rescued from a pipe, was I the first person you thought to tell?”

His immediate thought had been Ice. He didn’t think much of it then but now? Maybe she was onto something. His first thought was often, ‘I've got to tell Ice.’

“That silence is loud Mav. Okay now I want you to close your eyes.”

“Carole, this is silly.”

“Hush boy, are they closed?”

Maverick reluctantly closed his eyes and told Carole he had them shut. 

“Now, imagine you’re at home. It’s a Saturday night and you’re bored. You’re just dying to do something. Then there’s a knock at your door, you open it and, who’s there Maverick? Who do you wish was there? Living people only, you can’t say Nicky.” 

Ice. There was no question. It was how he had been spending his Saturday nights for the last couple of months. 

“It’s Ice Care bear.” 

“Wow, I never would have imagined. Keep your eyes closed for this last thing, and bare with me here. He comes in, and kisses you. Be brutally honest here, would you pull away? Or would you kiss him back?” 

That was enough to give him mental whiplash. Never before had he imagined kissing Ice. But he listened to Carole, like he always did, and tried his best at imagining what it would be like. 

Oh, Oh. 

He audibly gasped at the thought. He’s sure he’d kiss like he flew, straight to the point. A man on a mission. He’d probably hold Maverick in a vice like grip, and he can almost feel his hands at his waist. 

“Fuck Carole.”

“Sorry Pete. This probably isn’t the best of revelations is it?”

For a million different reasons, no. It’s the worst revelation. But for that one good reason? It’s everything. 

After that phone call Pete is hyper aware of his interactions with Ice. He notices every look, every touch, everything. He can’t decide if he’d rather the feeling be mutual or not. On the one hand if Ice didn’t like him like that, he’d be crushed. But if he did? That was an entire can of worms that he wasn’t particularly excited to open. 

“Alright Mav, give it up. What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothings wrong. Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that you’ve said maybe four words to me since I came over? Or the fact that you’re sitting on the other side of the couch like I’ve got some contagious disease or something.” 

He was right. He was sitting so far away because of something contagious. He was noticing how good looking he actually was and wanted to jump him every other second. He could play it cool at work, no matter how good he looked in that uniform it was a reminder of why crushing on Iceman like a schoolgirl was such a bad idea. But here in the comfort of his own home, Ice on his couch wearing sweats and a black t-shirt he was certain was soft, his self control was dwindling. 

“Ice I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

Almost like he didn’t hear him, he scoots closer to Maverick, getting right in his face. Maverick couldn’t help but let out a small gasp. 

“No, I’ll worry about whatever I want. What’s going on?” 

He said it so soft and low that Maverick couldn’t help his gaze dropping to the other man's lips. They looked so soft and inviting he almost reached out. Almost.

“I can’t say Ice. I just can’t.”

He was whispering now too. There was no way he could trust his voice to stay steady otherwise. Ice’s eyes caught Mavericks again and put his hand on the joint of his neck and shoulder. 

Maverick shudders.

“Hey, it’s me. There’s nothing you can say that will make me run away.”

Oh he could think of a few things. But he didn’t think Ice would drop it anytime soon. 

“Promise you won’t laugh at me or stop being my friend?”

He had never felt so small in his life. He felt like a child, just begging for love. 

“I promise. There’s no getting rid of me.”

His eyes looked genuine. He was serious. Maverick thinks he could do this. 

“Well lately… I’ve been having these feelings. Romantic feelings. For you.” 

There it was, bomb dropped, now all that was left was brace for impact and damage control. 

The impact hit and… Ice broke into a smile. Wait, a smile?

“You do?”

He looked almost childlike too. Only his wasn’t fear, it was hope. Almost like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but in a good way. 

“Yeah Tom. I do.”

Mav could see tears starting to form in his wingman’s eyes.

“Fucking finally.”

The next thing he knew he was being kissed. This kiss was nothing like he’d imagined. Still straight to the point, but oh so much better. Maverick was kissing him back in an instant and felt those hands he had imagined move from his shoulder to his waist. The intensity picked up and before Maverick knew it he was on Ice’s lap. He was straddling the taller man and took this opportunity to feel his hair for the first time. It was softer than he’d imagined in this un-gelled state, short but still long enough for Maverick to run his fingers through. The sound that prompted out of Ice’s mouth was positively sinful. It was all Maverick could do to moan back. 

Eventually air became a need and they pulled away slightly. 

“Fuck Mav. That was…”

“Yeah. I know. How do we…”

Neither of them could finish sentences at the moment it seemed. But the question of How do we do this still hung in the air. It was the looming threat of dishonorable discharge that made them hesitate in the first place. 

“Did we just kiss?”

Apparently kissing Ice made Maverick stupid, more so than usual. 

“Yes Pete we did. Do you wanna do it again?”

“Yes please.”

And so they did. Again. And again. And again. Eventually they found themselves in the Kitchen? How did they get here?

“Seriously Mav, we need to talk about this. Do we want to keep doing this?”

“Oh I absolutely do.”

“As in just the kissing or… like an actual relationship?”

Maverick thought for a moment. He wasn’t sure they could ever have an actual relationship, at least not in the same sense most straight couples do. But whatever they came up with, he wanted it. 

“I want everything with you Tom. Whatever we can get away with.” 

And so they did. True to their word they made their own version of a relationship. Ice told Slider and Maverick told Carole and Merlin. He had gotten close with the RIO in the months following the Layton rescue. The circle was small, but they didn’t need the world to know for them to feel valid. They had who mattered. 

Sooner or later a year goes by and the couple is all but living together. Ice rarely goes to his house, if only to keep up appearances. They’re on the couch one night when Maverick gets a phone call, not uncommon given Carole usually calls at this time of night. 

Mav comes back from the kitchen with an unreadable look on his face, which is uncommon given Ice is usually able to read his boyfriend like a book. 

“Babe? Something wrong?”

“No, no. That was my Aunt Margie.”

“Aunt? I didn’t know you had relatives you still talked to.”

Tom was right. Maverick really didn’t have much family that he still talked to. His dads family made him out to be a pariah after what went down and his mothers family was nearly non-existent. 

“Not much no, but this aunt was only 20 when everything with my dad went down and she was already disowned by the family because she had a kid at 16. She contacted me when I was a teenager and introduced me to my cousin Emma, she was only a little younger than me. Anyways, we were always close, I still call on holidays and birthdays. They called after Goose died.”

“Oh baby I had no idea. What did she want just now?”

“Emma’s getting married.”

Maverick couldn’t believe someone younger than him was getting married. He supposed that maybe if things were different him and Tom would probably be starting to talk about that too. A nice thought.

“Wow. Are you going to go?”

“Yeah she was calling for my accurate address so she could send an invite, on the flip side I’m one of their only family members too. It’s in two months, Texas.”

“Two months huh? That’ll probably line up with our leave.” 

“Which poses the question, would you go with me? She already said I could bring a plus one.”

Tom looks stunned, like it had never crossed his mind. They had spent so much time just assuming that they’d be doing things separate that it shocked them to consider doing stuff in public, together.

“I’m sure she meant it to be a romantic partner, Pete.”

“Well it’s a good thing you’re my boyfriend then Tom.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Of course he did. All he did was understand that stupid little fact. It was killing him. 

“She knows I’m a pilot, I’ll introduce you as my wingman. We can even come up with some story that you have family in Texas and decided to tag along to save money on gas.”

“Maverick she just called, how did you think of that so fast?”

“Darlin, I spend most of my time thinking up excuses for us to do all sorts of things. I love you like that.”

Tom had tears in his eyes, something Maverick noticed ever since they started dating. It was almost like he couldn’t believe Maverick was in love with him, even if they had exchanged those words months ago.

“Well when you put it like that… Let’s do it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah baby. Let’s go to Texas.”

                    ///

Maverick was extatique to say the least. He spent the next two months booking a hotel and making all of the necessary arrangements. He even researched towns for Ice’s fake family to be from in case someone asked. 

Finally the day came for them to leave and Maverick was up before the sun packing the car. 

“Mav, baby, I love you but for Christ’s sake the sun isn’t even up.”

“We’ve got places to be darlin, giddy up!”

“Pete, you did not just say ‘giddy up’.”

Ice looks pretty, all exasperated in the light of the just now rising sun, staring up at Pete from their shared bed.

“We’re going to Texas my dear, I’m just getting you ready.”

A signature eye roll from the Iceman.

Eventually they made it on the road, with a little prodding from Pete and a lot of groaning from Ice. The ride itself was long but peaceful if Pete was being honest. The only times that the two of them get to feel like a real couple was when they were alone (besides the times they were around their friends that knew) and this car ride was an extended amount of alone time. They held hands whenever they felt like it, even if Ice had lectured him on safe driving (but he never let go). They talked, and talked, and talked. About nothing in particular, just whatever came up. 

“Ice, you’re telling me that you had a girlfriend for an entire year and you didn’t know?”

Ice was driving and past flings came up. A lighthearted mistake honestly.

“First of all I was thirteen. It wasn’t like we were kissing. I thought she was my friend and she and everyone else thought she was my girlfriend. Never in my life have I thought a woman was attractive, she was my first and only girlfriend.”

“Well, I wish I could say the same. You’re my first and only boyfriend.” 

Pete realized what he said too late. Was it too soon to talk about forever? Or could they ever talk about forever in their situation?

“That confident huh? Think I’ll put up with your crazy ass forever?”

“You love my ass.”

Tom laughs and Pete lets out a laugh of relief. Ice made a joke about forever, but he never said no. He’ll take it. 

                    ///

They eventually (after a fifteen hour drive) make it to Lubbock, Texas where Mav’s cousin is getting married. They pretty much drop dead in the hotel room, not even having the energy to take advantage of the change of scenery and the comfortable bed. Well, they did use the bed but for strictly passing out. 

The next day is the wedding and Pete is nervously pacing the room as they get ready. 

“Let’s go over this one more time.”

“Baby, I’ve got it. If anyone asks, I am visiting family too, we decided to just drive together.”

“And if they ask where they’re from?” 

“I say they’re in San Antonio. Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Pete gave him a nervous smile and Tom pulled him in for a kiss. 

“Hey, baby, it’ll be alright. Okay? Let’s just relax a bit and enjoy some time together. Hm?”

Pete was anxious and for good reason. He was about to introduce his boyfriend to some of the last people living he considered family. But they couldn’t know he was his boyfriend and damnit if that didn’t hurt. Pete thought Ice was pretty much the coolest person ever, and the fact that he loved Pete? He wanted to shout it from the rooftops. 

They arrived at the wedding without incident, but in a pleasant silence that only came with their level of connection. Walking into the venue, which was some fancy country club, he didn’t really know what to expect. He honest to god only knew the bride and her mother and from his knowledge of weddings while limited, those were the two busiest people on a wedding day. 

“What do we do, just sit?” Pete asked Tom in a whisper, only leaning in slightly. Back into the mode of ‘we’re just wingmen, nothing more.’

“What, have you never been to a wedding before?”

Pete stared at him blankly. Not really knowing how to answer since he hadn’t but he knew that wasn’t a normal thing. 

“Oh, you haven’t, have you?” Tom looked genuinely shocked. 

“I mean I’ve seen them on TV, so I know the gist but… never in real life no.” 

Tom looked sad, like he was just putting together why he hadn’t. Pete had been an orphan for a great majority of his life. He had no family but the people whose wedding they were currently at, and it wasn’t like his foster families were super keen on parading him in front of their friends. 

“Well I have, so I'll show you. Sometimes they want you to mix and mingle, and other times you sit on a specific side if you’re there for either the bride or groom.” He loved Tom for just explaining it and not dwelling on his less than fun childhood. He always knew what to do. 

They venture further into the venue and Pete see’s what is clearly an aisle with chairs on either side. Behind it is a big white tent over the tennis courts, he made an educated guess that it was for the reception.

“See there’s a sign here that says Bride so that’s the side we’ll sit on.” Tom points out a fancy wooden sign that indeed said bride. 

They sit towards the back, hoping to inadvertently avoid people talking to them, but that seemed an impossible feat for a wedding. They were approached by what he assumed were two bridesmaids almost immediately. 

“I don’t believe we know you two, how do you know the bride?” They seemed nice, both blonde, one tall and the other a little shorter. Obviously his type, case in point: Ice, but he was way too obsessed with Ice to even notice their looks. 

“I’m Pete Mitchell, Emma’s cousin. This is Tom Kazansky, my wingman.” He gestured to Ice and he gave the girls a polite wave. 

“Wingman huh? Are you pilots?” Ah this age old question. 

“Naval Aviators actually.” If Ice weren’t in public that surely would have gotten an eye roll out of him. 

“Oh I see, well I’m Emma’s best friend Suzanne, and this is the equivalent of my wingman Anna.” 

Pete couldn’t help but laugh. She probably didn’t think of her friend in the same way that Pete thought of Tom, but he understood the sentiment. 

“Well it’s nice to meet you both. I’m sorry I can’t say she’s mentioned you.” 

“Emma’s always been private about her family for reasons I’m sure you understand. She’s mentioned you a couple times, said you were a victim of the Mitchell shame too?” 

“That’s one way of putting it. The Mitchell’s were always about what they looked like to everyone else, and I guess a child of a teen mom and the son of a traitor was just too much.” 

Ice was a silent participant in this conversation, but his eyes went wide at his boyfriend's words. Pete wished he could squeeze his hand to reassure him that he knew what he was saying, but alas. 

“She mentioned that too. I’m sorry they got you too. But from the looks of it you found yourself some family too?” 

She didn’t even know the half of it. Tom was his everything. 

“Indeed I did.” 

“Well, we’ll catch you later, shows about to start.” With that they walked away, leaving Ice and Mav alone once more. 

“Since when are you so loosey goosey with the whole ‘I’m Duke Mitchell’s kid’ thing?” 

“Since they weren’t Navy people. I’ve learned that people outside of the Navy don’t really care that your dad is an enemy of the state. At least not much.” 

Ice smiled and god was he ever going to get used to that? Ironically his smile made him feel like he was being melted from the inside out. 

                        ///

The ceremony was nice, a little boring, but Ice told him that it was normal. He couldn’t help thinking what his and Tom’s wedding would be like. He knew that was a dangerous thought, but he couldn’t help it. In an imaginary world he knew they’d have the class of ‘86 there to celebrate with them, something small. Pete would want to send invitations to everyone he knew though, once again having the urge to shout that he loved Tom Kazansky and was loved back from the top of his lungs. 

They made their way to the tent covered Tennis Court that had been lit up with twinkle lights after the sun started to set. It really looked pretty magical. Romantic. 

“Wait here and I’ll get us drinks?” Tom was a great boyfriend, albeit a secret one. 

“That’d be great thanks.” He had to physically restrain himself from calling him babe and it hurt more than it should’ve. 

Tom left with a wink and Pete found himself alone at the table, not something he was upset about. But it didn’t last long before his aunt found him. 

“Pete! I’m so glad you came!” She embraced him in a hug and Pete all but melted into it. It had been too long since he had a maternal hug that wasn’t from Carole.

“Me too Margie. Congratulations by the way.”  She pulled away but still held Pete by his arms. 

“Oh I didn’t do much. She found him all on her own. How are you doing?” What a loaded question. Honestly? He was doing great. He had a boyfriend he adored and a job he loved. The only thing that would make it better was to have Nick by his side to enjoy it with him. 

“Things are good. I’m doing good, honestly.”

She gave him a knowing smile, she was always smarter than anyone in his family. 

“That’s good to hear Pete. I hope you’ll introduce me to your wingman tonight, maybe get some insight as to just how good your life’s been?”

Wait, what did she mean by that?

“Oh, Margie he’s just-”

“I know Pete, your wingman. Don’t worry I’m not asking, I’m just happy you’re finally happy, no matter the reason.” 

She patted his cheek and walked away before he could say anything else. It wasn’t until he felt a tear on his cheek that he realized what had just happened. She knew, and she didn’t care. Well would you look at that. 

                    ///

Eventually Ice came back with their drinks and Pete told him what his aunt had said. He was nervous, obviously, but he trusted Pete and if Pete trusted her? That was enough. They were just hanging out when Suzanne approached their table. 

“So, how’d we do, boys?” She had an air of humor about her, someone he could really see himself being friends with. 

“You didn’t trip once, I’d say it was a success.” Ice had been quiet for most of the day, so it was nice to hear him loosening up a bit. Probably thanks to that drink.

“Well Tom that’s good to hear, I actually had some less than noble intentions coming to say hi. I was wondering if you’d like to maybe dance?” Her question was directed at Tom and Pete could nearly hear his heart break. Oh. 

“I’d be honored.” Say what you want about Iceman, cold-hearted or whatever, but the man was a gentleman. He had to say yes. What was he going to say? That he had a boyfriend? 

As they walked away Tom looked his way and gave him an apologetic smile. His heart cracked again at the sight of the love of his life taking the dance floor with someone else. She got to hold him close, in the middle of a crowded room, and nobody could say anything. His whole world stood out there swaying with someone that wasn’t him. 

Pete rarely cursed the world, god knows he had many reasons to, but he never did. He didn’t like to whine. But now? Under the tent covered tennis court? He could curse the whole planet. All because of some scared little people deciding that he couldn’t love who he wanted, he had to suffer for the foreseeable future. 

Not able to take anymore of this, he stood up and walked out of there. He was outside but he felt like he was suffocating from the lack of air going into his lungs. He stops when he knows he’s alone outside of the tent, far enough away that he won’t be bothered but not so far he can’t still hear the music playing softly in the background. 

He sits on a bench that’s barely illuminated by the moonlight, and lets himself wallow. He cries for his lost friend, he cries for his parent-less upbringing, and finally he cries for not being able to love out loud. He knows it’s probably the worst place ever to cry about these things, but he can’t help it. It’s like a dam broke and he was helpless to stop it. 

Vaguely in the distance he hears someone walking towards him, and he mentally prepares himself to lie his ass off as to why he’s crying. But when he looks up and sees that it’s just his boyfriend approaching he settles. There’s no hiding tears from Ice, it’s a lost cause.

“Mav? Baby are you okay?” When Ice gets closer Pete can see the look of deep concern on his face.

“No.” He said simply. Why lie to the love of your life? 

Ice embraces him in a tight hug the second he’s close enough. Maverick can tell he might be crying a little too. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t want to be rude. I-”

“Shhh, I know baby. I know. Still makes me sad that I can't dance with you like that.”

Ice pulls back and has a look on his face, a rare one of mischief. Distantly Mav can hear the opening notes to Etta James’ At Last, one of his favorites. 

“You can if we’re alone, do you see anyone around?” 

That cheeky bastard. “No, I don’t think I do.” 

Ice looks around for good measure and pulls Mav close, nose to nose, one arm around his waist, and the other gripping his left hand. He leads them in a somewhat sloppy waltz, but it’s quiet enough that he can hear Tom’s small embarrassed laughs so he doesn’t mind. They carry on like that for a minute, just soaking in the moment.

“This is dangerous Ice.”

“What, dancing with my lover?” He whispers that last word far too seductively for them being in public. 

“Yes, but us in general. We’re a dangerous game. Can you be okay with that? I know how you are with your rules.” He winked to try and lighten the conversation.

“I know, but you’re worth it to me. If it came down to it and I had to pick you or my wings? I’d pick you.”

Pete was speechless. Flying was their whole world. 

“You can’t really mean that Tom.”

Ice had a soft lovesick look on his face.

“But I do. With my whole heart.”

Pete tried not to get choked up, failing miserably. When he and Ice started dating he really didn’t know how long it would last. Like Ice had previously said, he really was a cowboy, he’d never been in a long term relationship like this before and wasn’t sure he had it in him. But after a while he started to realize that maybe Ice was a cowboy like him. Hardened by the world and all of its evils, but it seemed in the end they found each other and all of that changed. Ice’s boots had their home beneath Mav’s bed, and forever they would stay. 

“I hope you know that you’re it for me Tom. I’m never gonna love again.” 

Tom smiled, all watery, and kissed Pete hard on the lips. 

“Me too Mav. Me too.” 

They stayed like that for a while, in each other’s arms, relishing in this stolen moment. Pete was infinitely glad he decided to go to this wedding, it was exactly what they needed. 

                    ///

Over the years of their relationship, the pair danced a lot after that wedding. It was usually in the privacy of their home, with the kitchen radio playing in the background, but it was their little thing. Mav’s favorite though was at their wedding. It was 2011 and DADT had just been repealed, and they invited everyone they knew. Even Pete’s aunt Margie and cousin Emma, and her three grown children. They decided that they’d have their first dance as a legally married couple to the same song they had their first dance to, At Last by. Etta James. It was perfect. 

Swaying in that ballroom with his husband, Pete felt like his world was complete. He had locked down the most beautiful man on the planet and damnit if he wasn’t proud of himself. 

“Hey Kazansky?”

“It’s Kazansky-Mitchell to you.”

“Right, but I’ve just gotta say something.”

“Out with it then.”

“You really are a cowboy like me, aren’t you?” 

That got him a laugh he could listen to forever, would listen to forever. In that moment he decided that forever was the sweetest con. 

[d-nessi]

A/N: OOOf that Chapter gave me a hard time cause I'm so inexperienced in writing really cute fluff (even after 10 years of marriage😅🫣 well never wrote it down lol) BUT I think this is a good start for now.

minimum of swearing, also lots of fluff, loveydovey aaaand yes kissing.🥰

word count: 2,3k (welp these chapters getting bigger)

Proofread? : I tried but as always I'm german so...you know ;)

use of HE/SHE

Again the Name of this Chapter is from the song covered by the daugther of craig mazin, jessica mazin! Absolutely beautiful🥰😇

(This is not my YT Video)

Chapter 3

♡NEVER LET ME DOWN AGAIN♡

sweet...not too sweet...I slowly take a deep breath and open my eyes dreamily. Totally blurred with fatigue I feel only her soft hair and I immediately realize what is happening here.

I look down directly into the face of Bella, arms wrapped around her and our bodies so close that not even a needle could fit between us.

Silently I just enjoy every second, not that it's over too quickly.

What are we actually? Friends? Lovers?

Bella moves a bit, hums a little and just continues to cuddle with me, unaware that I am not her pillow. I smile while my heart probably wants to kill me from stumbling and I gently caress her cheek.

She is so sweet....simply everything about her is so sweet. Her fawn eyes, her smile and when she laughs it's so incredibly infectious.

Lost in thought, I look at her and I am miserably aware that I am in love with her. I never want to leave her side. I am aware of that but her?

Too big is the fear that something comes in between or she does not share all these feelings with me.

Stillness?

Is useless because even without words it is obvious what's happening here.

Impossible to get out of there today without an ultimatum. Either my heart will be broken or I will have achieved impossible.

We were just 2 girls in a bar and now I'm lying here with her...she absolutely clueless...yet.... Bella's hand moves to my upper arm gently grips and slowly opens her eyes.

Here we go....

"HUGH!?!"

Other than expected to startle, fall down or hit me in the face was her first impulse to hide her face in my chest which doesn't make the whole situation much better. The heat rose in her face and her breath became faster.

"Bella?" I mutter while trying to get away from her rather unwillingly.

"Bella!?! hey..h..hey breathe!"

Her breath is like that of a marathon runner as she continues to cling. "ssshhhh....oi hey it's ok it's just me. You had a nightmare and I thought I'd keep you company."

Her breathing slowly calms down a bit and she sits up without looking at me. I regret it, after all I didn't want to scare her.

"I didn't mean to catch you off guard I'm sorry" I say sincerely.

"It's ok, I...better make breakfast now. I have an appointment with my manager later to prepare everything for tomorrow. I'll book us a single suite, they are always free" She stands up and smiles at me.

"Thank you for taking care of me" She blushes "I liked that...." and she goes into the bathroom to freshen up and make breakfast.

"She liked it...."

My cheeks burning, while my heart beats again in the wrong rhythm and as if that is not enough there is the tingling again.

Sitting at the table I look at my breakfast. "Aren't these suits expensive?" I asked curiously.

"Please don't worry, my manager will take care of it. I invited you so it's fine." We finished our breakfast and did the rest of the things that were important.

*NEXT DAY AT THE AIRPORT*

Rain pours down on us as we arrive at the airport. We finally find our plane which will fly us to New York.

From there we change planes and will get to Calgary. It is getting colder and colder and in Calgary there is probably already snow.

Bella sneezes.

I can clearly see the bags under her eyes. She must have hardly slept the last night. "Make yourself comfortable we have an 11 hour flight ahead of us." She says and yawns.

"Are you tired? You're welcome to sleep. It's still the middle of the night anyway," I look at her, scrutinizing.

He lies down while I order a drink. 11 hours caught, miles above together with the love of my life who still not broke my heart.

She seems to have fallen asleep quickly so I sit down next to her and watch her shallow breathing.

That's a good girl.

Another panic attack wouldn't be so good up here. She sleeps so peacefully so quietly that I hardly notice that I am also drifting off to sleep.

While I slip down more and more without noticing it, Bella snuggles up to me again. I freak out for a second and just let it happen.

Cuddle my head on hers, grab her hand and stroke my thumb gently over the back of her hand.

Her lips draw a small smile on her face.

Fuck........

how much I want to kiss these. Our bodies are so close together that I can literally feel his heartbeat.

For a second I don't think and get so close to her with my face that our noses touch very gently. She sleeps so deep she doesn't even notice.

My whole body feels almost numb It makes me mad to be so close and yet so far away from her. I didn't realize how much my frustration had built up and tears were coming to my eyes.

I don't wanna hurt her...not again.

Bella opens her eyes but this time she just looks at me, feeling her breath makes me super excited.

My body is so fuck'n ready to kiss her releasing all the tingling. As if she internalizes me she blinks a few times trying to close the gap, but turbulence makes our lives hell when we both hit our heads.

I swear I must have a pact with the devil himself. I am sure that our lips have just touched, even if only delicately.

"fuck this stupid weather almost scares me!" I groan and sit up while rubbing my forehead.

"everything okay with your forehead?" she looks at me and also holds her forehead.

"yeah it's fine" I smile briefly and just throw myself backwards on my back.

He looks at me, hesitates, but I feel his body against me again very carefully and with deliberation. Bella plays with the thread of my hoodie and then looks up at me.

"have you ever been to New York?"

"no, only England was my only destination" I say and gently stroke her back. Oh man my heart-doctor is going nuts if my heart doesn't calm down soon. But I love it, the tingling, the goosebumps and Bella....

Actually now would be a good time to say what I feel but I don't want to ruin this one moment.

After all, we still have a few hours left and damn it, I just want to spend them with her! I cheekily tickle her back and promptly get the answer.

"HEY!" she giggles so sweetly and suddently gently bites my arm.

Gaaawd I love her big smile especially when she gets excited. No matter which interview she held together with Pedro I always had to grin wide when she laughed.

"bella..."

"mmh..."she murmurs and snuggles closer to me while tenderly stroking my arm up and down.

"what the hell are we doing here....? What does that mean?"I close my eyes.

"That we're friends and killing time...?" she says playfully with an almost ironic smile.

"Liar...." I say barely audibly and hug her tightly. Everything feels so perfect right now and I can feel exactly that her heart also needs a doctor for God's sake.

Please...never let me down again.....

The rest of the flight we spend with cuddling and just enjoying each others presence without talking much.

It felt so magical and I know that won't be all. Anyway, I will make it clear to her what I feel. I already know when...

***NEWARK LIBERTY INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT***

Huge crowds, tall buildings and an incredible amount of lights even in broad daylight.

I feel like I'm in heaven. "I've never been to New York. "I can't get out of my amazement and look around as if I had landed on a foreign planet.

Bella smiles and stands right in front of me. "So we have exactly 12 hours to get on the other plane. You want to have a look around the city?"

"yeah absolutely of course!" I'm getting way too excited while looking arround.

There are advertisings from the current shows THE LAST OF US also other super popular series like House of the dragons.

"you once said in an interview that you watched House of the dragons".

"yes i did, it was great" she smiles

"but no Game of Thrones"

"yeah I just can't see Pedro's eyes being squeezed out" she looks at me mischievously.

"I already know where we are going to look first so come on" she moves on with a confident smile.

I giggle "As you command, your Queen and Highness of Westeros," I say as I bow and stifle a laugh.

"If you don't want to be beheaded right away, follow me immediately, you despicable yeoman!"

I didn't expect that, so I look at her in surprise as I stand up straight again. "Dude I thought you were going to hit me, instead you turn me on".

This time it was Bella who was not prepared for my words and now stands there completely perplexed.

"Bella? Bella Ramsey!?" ... "it's the Ellie from the new show! wow!" People are coming closer and closer to us with their mobiles in their hands.

"BELLAAA!!!" people start to freak out sure we are in New York and there is a higher volume of people.

At first Bella smiles but as fast as the people approach us the more nervous she gets.

"come babe" I grab her hand, pull the hood of my hoodie over my head and just run.

Not just anywhere no...to one of the first places we were going to. after a short sprint and completely out of breath I ask the cab driver if he can give us a lift.

Luckily he can give us a ride and before we know it we are there. When I wanted to take my hand to me, Bella just grabbed it again and lightly pressed it shut. I first look at my hand and then into her eyes. She is obviously smiling happily.

I quickly gave the driver his money and we got out. There it is...The figure standing on a massive pedestal made of a copper shell that stretches on a steel framework in the right hand a gold-plated torch. The Statue of Liberty.

"wow even from here it is really huge" even Bella marveled.

"crazy..." here I am standing on American soil, the Statue of Liberty in front of me, and that together with Bella. That it has come so far I would never have thought but fate means it exceptionally times well with me.

Bella is still looking at the statue without knowing that she is the main attraction here.

Hardly people around us I just grab her hand, pull her to me and without wasting time our lips meet. Everything around us becomes surreal almost empty and at the same time it is as if a bomb has exploded right next to us. Her lips are so soft and tender without resistance.

I more or less detach myself from her lips and look at her silently without even the slightest hint of an expression.

"Friends huh..." I whisper. She didn't resist the kiss. Question answered I thought but hell was I wrong.

The complete answer still comes as she takes my face in her hands, still hesitates a little but finally fills the space between us. This time our two lips are completely in harmony, clearly more demanding and greedy. God how I hope that is not just a dream.

My heart prepares to stop while Bella's breathing gets out of control. We involuntarily and breathlessly break away as we look into each other's eyes. Face to face pretty close I can feel her fast breaths on my lips and the heat.

I bite my lower lip before I lose control not to kiss her once again. "I'm leaving the friend zone," I whisper, barely audible. "fuck" I can't and just steal another kiss from her, she totally melting into it.

Finally, Bella made a sound, but not the one I expected. A soft sigh. She seems to enjoy it. We disengage again, and as we do, I look at her seriously. "You have no idea how big my crush is on you" I take a deep breath and gently grab one of her hands.

"Y/N...." She looks at me lovingly with her red cheeks. "you were just a girl in the bar. I knew WHO you were and I was a fan of yours before...I admit that, but I never thought this would happen. for real!"

She looks at my hand and thinks what to say. "Normally I avoid all the fans, you haven't given the impression that you want to jump on me" There it is again, the sweet smile of hers.

"I wanna be your Lover for the rest of my life!" I speak softly. "I want to be the one who protects you, accompanies you to all possible interviews to stand by you. want to hold you tight whenever you have another nightmare. wake up next to you every day and punch everyone in the face who gets too close to you.

Maaan Bella looks so happy. She hugs me and burries her face in my neck. "you are the cutest I swear!" She mumbles in my shoulder, realizing how people starts looking again.

"we should go" She says shortly and grabs my hand. "I don't care what people saying" We ignore all the people and walking to the different places like coffeeshops and a few other sights until the time comes to go to our next plane.

A/N: Things getting interesting. So If I am done with the whole plot I will be open for requests of yours.

Also smut will comming in the next 1-2 chapters. I will clearly mark that part in chap if some of you don't want to read that and just want to skip.

For more Chapters, stories and more just look at my Masterlist ♡

[wolfstar-ao3]

5 oneshot Wolfstar fics and 1 long fic

These are the last fics that I have added to my bookmarks. No order. Enjoy xo

Don't Let Me Go by writingfrommywindow

Summary:

Sirius has a nightmare and Remus comforts him <3

1,004 words | Complete, 1/1 | Hurt/Comfort, Sad Sirius

The flying pancake incident by nephele_baino29

Summary:

Remus Lupin isn't jealous, swear on Merlin's Beard. But the full moon is only two days away, and it seems Moony is eager to come out. So when some poor and clueless Hufflepuff lad tries to flirt with Sirius, Remus is not pleased at all. He gets really jealous... it probably was the wolf-thing... nevertheless, food is thrown, but, on the bright side, Sirius finds it amusing.

Or... the time Remus got really jealous and threw James's pancake. Sirius is not so oblivious. James and Regulus get to sit back and enjoy the show.

2,064 Words | Complete, 1/1 | Silly, Jealousy, + Jegulus

I'd Love You Still by Engie_Ivy

Summary:

"Sirius please, stay with us, okay?"

Everyone keeps telling Sirius that he must stay, but he's so tired... The darkness is luring him in, with a promise of escaping all the pain and exhaustion.

But there's something very important he must tell Remus first.

2,845 Words | Complete, 1/1 | Angst with Happy Ending, Sirius POV, First war

Midnight Snacks and Stolen Hearts by orphan_account

Summary:

The first time it happened, Sirius wondered if miracles were real.

The second time it happened, he wondered what on earth he did to deserve something so wonderful, if only for a few moments.

-

Sirius falls head over heels for Frank's gorgeous and hilarious roommate. The catch? The stunning man is sleepwalking every time they meet and believes Sirius is just a dream.

7,490 Words | Complete, 1/1 | Silly, Modern Setting, They're kinda stupid, A bit of angst

My Beautiful Miracle by dogtagsbucky

Summary:

The thought put a lump in his throat as his eyes filled with tears, because there was nothing more Remus wanted than to be with Sirius and to have Sirius love him back. And now he would have to go through the added agony of seeing Sirius dance with another one of his fangirls at the Yule Ball. Sure, Sirius always seemed uninterested in them, never really paying them any attention, but surely one of them would gather up the courage to ask him to the ball and Sirius would say yes, just so that he wouldn’t have to go alone. And Remus would sit in the corner, trying not to feel heartbroken as Sirius twirled some random girl across the dance floor.

2,795 Words | Complete, 1/1 | Fluff, Pining, Love confessions

+ 1

What if I really am what my mother told me by useless_juice

Summary:

Sirius Black fucked up, like really really fucked up. He told a secret he shouldn't have and now has possibly ended two lives. Is he really the destructive force that his mother has believed him to be all along?

Aka the prank but sirius really blames himself for everything

also fuck she-who-must-not-be-named

36,573 Words | In progress, 13/? (Last update May, 6) | Angst, Children Abuse Referenced, Pining

soport fics in progress and send them love in the comments!!

[starryserenade]

Myth and Magic Ch. 18: Learning to Fly

Fic Description: When Tir Na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: Our party of heroes - both mortal and fae - continue onward towards The Haven, a hidden faerie refuge. But where they expect to find safety, hidden dangers may await.

Links:

AO3

Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: Coming Soon

~~~

Neither mice had gotten much rest at all, by the time the purples and blues of the Faerie night had dissolved into the brighter shades of pink and gold that heralded the day.  After gently returning Max to a place just beside his father, each had gone back to the spots they’d chosen before…albeit a little closer. And, rather unknowingly to either, their tails had found each other as they drifted off to sleep. 

This didn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the group, who woke far before they did, and it was especially evident to Daisy, who was now arguing vehemently with Clarabelle over whether or not they should wake the two now or allow them a little more time.

“Daisy, the poor dears are plum feckered. Just let them rest!”

The duck scoffed. “Pft, they’re feckered all right. Wonder whose fault that was.”

The truth is, Daisy hadn’t minded Mickey when she first met him. But then she’d thought about it. And one thing about Daisy, was that she had the tendency to think herself into a tizzy. So she thought about how he’d probably been the one to get Minnie in trouble in the first place and she thought about how completely clueless he’d been about his own identity (how do you not know you’re a faerie, for feck’s sake, when you’re bleedin’ silver blood at a single touch o’ iron??).  And just when she’d begun to think him just a tad bit competent, he’d gotten them all sent here, leagues away from where they should have entered the realm. It was a waste of precious time, and not Clarabelle or Morgana or Clarice acted quite so worried or furious as Daisy was certain they should be. 

Worst of all, he had Minnie wrapped around his little finger. Watching him fawn over her their whole journey so far, casting her those infuriating little glances and touches here and there, it made Daisy want to explode. No one was that sugary sweet, not really. Abnos knew she and Donald weren’t. 

The last time Minnie had acted like this, things hadn’t ended well. And if Daisy was honest with herself, and she really wasn’t, she’d know she was scared. Scared that her friend was going to be hurt all over again. Scared that she’d lose her, maybe for good this time. That was all she saw in Mickey. 

“...an’ seein’ as the two of them saved us, I think they deserve a little extra rest!” 

Daisy hadn’t been listening to a thing Clarabelle was saying. She was too busy watching the mice snuggled deep into their little mossy beds. Then Mickey stirred and turned over on his side, bringing him close enough to Minnie that his breath must have tickled the fur on her neck. Conscious of this or not, she let out a soft murmur and turned over too, until both of their noses were just about touching. 

That was enough of that.

Only vaguely aware of Clarabelle’s increasingly frustrated, “Are you listening”s, Daisy scanned the place around them for something she could use. Flora in the fae realm were rarely without their unique characteristics, most of them useful in one way or another, almost all of them entirely different from much of anything found in the mortal realm. Take the trees above them for example – Willows were scattered around the clearing. Weeping Willows, specifically, which had gotten their name for a very different reason than their mortal counterparts. 

In the night, when faeries were awake and about, when the whole realm thrived in the coolness it brought, the willows dripped freely with waves of cold starlight. It was in the day, when most fae settled down against the heat, that those same flows gathered instead.They formed little tear-shaped fruits in the branches of the trees, and would come crashing down at the slightest touch or tremor.

Daisy grinned.

“Clarabelle, you’re absolutely right,” she said, in the middle of the faerie’s ramblings-on, and smiled sweetly.  “I’m so sorry for doubtin’ you. In fact, why don’t you head on over to help Goofy out with getting some breakfast on, and I’ll go ahead and keep an eye on Max in the meantime.”

“Oh-OH!” Clarabelle clapped happily, thoroughly unused to having Daisy back down from any argument whatsoever. “Glad you’ve decided to see reason. I’ll be gettin’ on then. Do try to be quiet, all right?” 

“Mmhm, absolutely,” Daisy promised, with absolutely no intention of honoring the words. She caught sight of the little one called Max in the corner of her eye. He was playing with a bunch of pebbles, tossing them as far as he could in his own personal competition. His father had been watching, tossing them in turns (they always landed just short of Max’s throws), but when Clarabelle approached, he stood and dusted himself off, dirtying the surface of his trousers more than they’d been before, and turned to walk a ways with her. 

“Oh, Max!” Daisy grinned with a sugary sweet smile, and the little boy perked up. “Do you want to see how to throw them really far??”

He nodded vehemently, watching with wide eyes as Daisy picked up a pebble of her own and eyed the branches above the two sleeping mice. She tossed it lazily in her hand, a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “See, the trick is to pull back really far an-” 

She let the pebble fly, Max grinning all the while, Daisy grinning even more as she watched it strike a branch in the trees above. The leaves shuddered, and the fruit within them trembled. 

Sorry, Minnie~ 

The whole lot of Teardrops slipped from their branches, crashing to the ground in an enormous splash. Minnie squealed and Mickey shouted in surprise, their slumber immediately shattered by the sudden wave that left them leaping out of their resting places. They were drenched, and looked something like a feral disaster as they stood there with their fur all dripping, eyes wild with shock, and breathless little gasps escaping their lips.   

Clarabelle gasped in horror, and Morgana swiveled to look at Daisy, furious fire blazing in her eyes. 

Daisy only laughed, and when Mickey had finally recovered enough to gain what looked like some semblance of his surroundings, he glared daggers her way. “Why y-!”

He trailed off because Minnie blinked, and then looked at him. Her eyes scanned him for a moment, then she seemed to be overcome by… by something . She brought her fingers to her lips and tears welled in her eyes. 

Daisy’s heart sank. She hadn’t thought the trick would cut so deep. “Oh, Minnie, I’m…”

The hand fell and laughter burst forth from Minnie’s mouth, ringing like a bell across the clearing. “Oh… oh, Mickey!” She managed through fits of giggling, both arms wrapped around her stomach. “You…you look awful !” 

This was enough to dissipate his indignation, apparently, as he stared at Minnie, his eyes wide with surprise. It didn’t take long for that smile of hers to cross over, either, and soon he was laughing too. Soon everyone was laughing, or chuckling, or giggling, except for Daisy herself, who scowled as the mice came closer to each other than before. 

“O-oh, I do, huh?” Mickey chuckled, raising an eyebrow. Minnie nodded sweetly, batting her lashes and waiting for the inevitable swipe at her own pride. She knew she looked as bad as he did, if not worse, with her hair dripping like moss down her shoulder and her silver dress clinging to her skin so close it seemed it might become scales all over again without any magic at all. 

But Mickey only grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “Aw, geez, well if Her Majesty says so it mus’ be true. She’s the epitome of perfection, after all. Poor sap like me could never hope t’compare.” 

And then Minnie was all over him all over again, playfully scolding him for not playing along, reassuring him that he was every bit as lovely as she was and probably more, because she was nothing special, really. 

Daisy groaned and threw up her hands, plopping down on the ground next to Max and dejectedly picking up a few of his pebbles. He looked over her shoulder, that two-toothed grin as wide as ever. “Can ye show m’again! You’re reeeeaallyyyy good!”

She snorted and tossed a pebble. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

It didn’t even clear Max’s worst throw.  

~~~

It took the mice a good while to dry off but that was all right, Morgana had assured them, because it would help keep them cool. The faerie realm had grown warmer of late – too warm for most faeries to be out and about during the day, which is precisely why they’d decided to set out in the morning. Better to avoid unpleasant company, the faeries had assured them, though traveling near the river would be enough to keep the party from getting overwhelmed by the heat. Even so, the fae in the group had armed themselves with some of the Teardrop fruit, should it get too sweltering, although Morgana hadn’t neglected to toss a comment in there about how “nice it would have been not to have had such a good number wasted by the morning’s 'accident.'”

She’d glanced at Daisy then, who had turned a bright shade of red and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her dress, grumbling miserably. 

For a good portion of the morning, Minnie couldn’t keep her eyes off Mickey as she walked behind him. There was a distinct sort of bounciness in the way he moved that might have made her laugh if she wasn’t so busy studying how he seemed to sparkle in time with the rest of the world.  He wasn’t hiding his wings anymore and instead of being pulled in close to his back, they swept behind him in an almost majestic way, swaying along with each of his energetic steps, pulsing with magic in the same way the grass about them pulsed with light in the wake of each warm breeze. He beat them lightly every now and again, and it would take him just an inch or two above the ground before he’d flutter back down and resume his usual stride. It was cute. Really cute. And Minnie found herself blushing, however much she tried to hide it.

“He’s a looker, isn’t he?” The tiny voice giggled in her ear, following a buzz of even tinier wingbeats. Then Clarice landed on her shoulder, folded her hummingbird wings and, dangling her legs, cast Minnie a playful wink.

Minnie laughed softly, and blushed more deeply than before.  “He’s more than that,” she murmured, still staring wistfully. Mickey gave his own feathers a little shake, and then tossed a glance over his shoulder, grinning broadly when he caught Minnie looking his way. 

She smiled and then buried her face in her hands the moment he turned back around. She could feel Clarice’s smirk without even looking. “Certainly helps though, doesn’t it?”

She didn’t respond, only sighed, which sounded a bit more like a squeak than anything else. He didn’t need the help but…it did, it really did. 

Mickey himself was busy asking Morgana all sorts of questions about the fae. About magic and flying and faerie food a-and, and a little bit about faerie weddings, even, for no reason in particular. She did laugh then, but aside from that she didn’t treat it any differently from any of his other questions, which he was grateful for. 

He could hear Minnie behind him, giggling faintly every now and then and speaking in that soft whisper-like voice she used when she thought she was being subtle. Ah…well, she was being subtle, he supposed, considering he couldn’t make out a single word. Of course that only made him want to hear more. It was rude to eavesdrop, he knew this, and he really did try to resist for some time, brushing off the urge with a shake of his wings. But then the temptation grew too much to bear and he turned his head to look behind him. 

There she was, all awash with the light of the Faerie sky, her cheeks a sunrise shade of pink and lips curved into a delicate smile.  Even if she’d kept talking, Mickey wouldn’t have heard a thing. He was too fixated on that sweet smile that widened when her eyes met his. This made him smile back, of course, and he had to turn away before he was altogether overcome by the heat he felt rushing to his face. Morgana must have taken notice, because she chuckled lightly. 

“Love is a splendid motivator of magic, as I’m certain you’ll discover.”

Even as she spoke he felt his fur prickle with energy, like tiny pins were poking through his skin. He let out a subtle gasp and then drew in a breath, trying to calm the sensation while Morgana laughed all the while.

“You’re in the Faerie realm, child. Magic is a part of all things here. You’ve been asking me about magic this whole time, and my answer is this – you’re better off letting it flow through you – Abnos knows it’s been locked away for far too long.”

He chuckled, smoothing his fur. “Yeah? An’ if it does somethin’ I don’t like?”

Morgana furrowed her brow then, and she looked towards Daisy, who was tagging along behind Minnie and keeping just enough distance that she wasn’t quite intruding, but could keep a close eye on her. When she caught Morgana’s stare, she narrowed her eyes, frowned, and abruptly looked away. 

Morgana sighed and looked back at Mickey. “If Daisy’s words frightened you, I’d advise you not to listen. She’s worried for her friend is all, but I don’t believe you’re a danger to us. You saved us with your magic before, don’t you remember?”

“Well, gosh, I didn’t real- ”

“You did, and I think you know that.” She looked him over momentarily, eyes falling on his mended wings. A lift of her head and a slight grin proved her satisfaction. “Your kind prided themselves on their wings, you know. I’m glad to see yours healed.”

Mickey’s tail twitched, and his cheeks grew warm. Morgana didn’t ask just how they’d been healed or who had done it, but he had a feeling she knew. He laughed, and scratched behind his ears.

“Awe gee, well… still don’t really know how to use ‘em. Not properly, anyway.”

Morgana shot him a pointed glance.

“Just because you don’t remember doesn’t mean you don’t know how. It might help to stop wrestling with your magic every time it surfaces.” 

“But, what if-”

“Mickey, listen,” she interrupted, lowering her voice so that its gravity could be heard by him and him alone. Her eyes shone with something like sympathy, and something else akin to a parent’s stern glare.  “A Changeling’s wings are a part of them, and a fae who’s lost connection with the magic in them is one who’s likely to lose themself, too. I’ve seen it happen before.” Then she paused for a moment, waited to make sure he was listening. “I don’t think you realize what a gift your princess has given you in returning them to you now. Don’t squander this chance.”

There was a hidden sharpness behind her words, however softened it was by discretion, and Mickey shuddered in its wake. It didn’t take much for him to think back to the emptiness that had been slowly growing in the years since he’d woken up all alone, a shadow that had encroached on the parts of himself he’d been most proud of. He was still himself, he knew that. But he wondered now how close he’d come to truly slipping before Minnie came along. 

Close, he realized with a twinge of shame, recalling the moments he’d nearly given up entirely.

That was then, this was now. 

“I won’t,” he answered firmly, straightening his posture. It didn’t lend him much height, but anyone could have seen the stark resolve that took hold just then. His wings shone a little brighter. 

“Good.” 

“Still don’t know how to use ‘em though.”

Morgana cracked a smile and nearly laughed, looking as if he’d missed the point entirely. But he hadn’t. There was an excited twinkle in his eye, and as he glanced back Minnie’s way, that flicker of magic began prickling through him all over again. Though he still had no clue what it was going to do, he didn’t feel so inclined to fight it off this time.

“Just have a little fun for once. See what happens.”

~

Minnie had taken a moment to distract herself from swooning over Mickey by taking a look at her surroundings, which weren’t like anything she’d ever seen. The trees had grown thicker and darker, until they didn’t quite seem to be trees at all. It was so dim, in fact, that Minnie didn’t realize at first that these weren’t trees at all. Something like strange mushrooms now towered over their heads, glowing in shifting shades of blue and green, flickering spores drifting about in the air.  Bells chimed in tiny flurries in the distance, echoing through the foliage and shadows until they’d drifted away, yet to be replaced by another lovely sound. She found it beautiful, enchanting even, despite the eerie silence that had fallen over the forest.  

Her fascination was so distracting that she was thoroughly unprepared for the bundle of feathers that came flying at her from out of nowhere to land on top of her head with a gusty flutter of its wings. She saw nothing but a brief silhouette of the thing before feeling it alight upon her head, and so, thoroughly terrified upon its doing so, she immediately screeched, ducked her head, and started flailing her arms in an effort to get it off. It did, quite quickly, though it let out some sort of screeching protest of its own before being snatched up by Daisy who’d practically flown herself just to get her hands on the thing. 

The creature really didn’t like that, and squawked and squirmed and screeched until Daisy was forced to let it go, and it glided to the ground in the center of the group, its feathers fluffed and wings outstretched defensively as it glared Daisy’s way. 

Clarice was laughing hysterically, Clarabelle stifled a snort, and Morgana watched with a humorous twinkle in her eye. As Minnie recovered her breath and tried to soothe the hair that had been ruffled by the creature, she became acutely aware of the faeries’ humor, and finally set her eyes on the thing at the center of them all. Her apprehension dissipated immediately. 

“Oh…Oh!” She gasped, clasping her hands together happily as the bluish hue of the faerie fauna shone down on the creature’s lovely form.  “Oh, it’s just a sweet little owl! Poor thing! Did I frighten you?”

It looked back at her then, feathers slowly flattening as its wide eyes settled on hers. With a shake of its wings, it opened its beak and chirped at her, then seemed altogether unsatisfied with the sound it had produced. 

“Awe, are you trying to talk to me?” She cooed, slowly kneeling down beside it. It didn’t move an inch, didn’t seem spooked by her presence at all.  When she stretched out an arm, it tilted its head as if to think it through, and then stepped up without a moment more of hesitation. “Oh, what a sweetie!” She was giddy with adoration, and scratched between the feathers on its neck. It craned its head upwards and she took that to mean it liked it, as it leaned into her touch. 

“Mickey, are you seeing this?” She laughed without taking her eyes off the bird, and it almost seemed to flinch. When Mickey didn’t respond, it was enough to tear Minnie’s attention away. “Mickey?” 

She looked up and found him nowhere in sight. With a gasp, her eyes darted around them before falling on Morgana, a bit crazed with panic. The faerie didn’t seem worried at all. “Morgana! Where is he?!”

The owl chirped and Morgana nodded its way, a knowing smile drawn across her face. 

Minnie furrowed her brow, utterly confused, until the owl clicked its beak, and nuzzled against her arm. Her gaze fell back to it, and the realization struck. She knew those wings, knew the little twist in his feathers, and the starry pattern drifting up each plume. 

A strange thought, something like a memory maybe, told her she’d seen them in more than one place before. But it was ripped from her mind before she could grasp hold of it, leaving her with only the most recent epiphone. 

“Oh…my…” she breathed, cheeks flushing. “Mickey?”

It dipped its head and screeched, then drew back again at the sound of its own voice. “Oh-oh dear,” Minnie stammered, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as it—er, he— stared back at her. Mostly because she was trying not to laugh. “But how…w-why…erm…” she glanced helplessly at Morgana. “Can he change back?”

“Oh, he will eventually. Once he figures out how.”

Mickey straightened, feathers rising and falling in what Minnie took to be something like irritation. It was adorable either way. He was so…so fluffy. It took everything she had not to nuzzle her cheeks against those downy feathers. But he seemed nervous enough as it was, and she was loath to embarrass him any more. 

“Will that be soon?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Daisy threw back her head and laughed loudly. “Oh, this is rich!”

Goofy, though certainly well-meaning, had the bright idea to pipe in too. “Dontcha mean, ‘‘it’s a hoot!’ ”

Daisy laughed louder, and this time everyone else joined in, save for Minnie who probably should have gotten some sort of reward for just how long she’d been able to maintain a straight face.  

Mickey squawked defiantly, and then swiveled his head to glare at Morgana. Minnie had to bite her lip to keep from commenting on the near 360 degree turn. 

Morgana laughed. “I did not trick you. Every Changeling goes through this, and it will come to you eventually. It won’t do us any good to sit around here squawking about it.”

He opened his beak to interject, but Minnie slipped a finger through his feathers to give him a scritch and with a shiver, he settled back down. “You’ll figure it out, I know it,” she whispered, nuzzling his beak with her nose. He squinted happily and seemed to sigh. “Besides, I was friends with an owl once. They’re extra clever. You’ll be back to your old self in no time.”

They continued onward after that and as they moved deeper into the forest, Mickey pattered back and forth on her forearm, chirping and squeaking like he was testing his voice and finding it unsatisfactory each and every time. At one point, his talon got caught on her sleeve and tore through it, and he looked back at her with such a terribly apologetic expression that she simply couldn’t help but plant a light kiss on his beak to assure him it was perfectly all right. He hopped up to her shoulder after that and stopped pacing, though after a while she noticed him spreading a wing from time to time, shifting it forwards and backwards as the air swept underneath it. When Clarice darted nearby, he would stare at her for a moment too, as if studying every rapid stroke of feathers. 

Eventually, she felt him shift nervously, and then before she knew it he’d hopped off to glide in front of her, and was beating his wings furiously in an attempt to take to the air. She yelped a bit and then giggled at the sight, cheering him on in her heart. It didn’t do much good, though, because he ended up doing nothing but summoning a swirling cloud of dust just before landing clumsily on the ground. 

“Speed won’t do you any good,” Morgana called back to him without turning around, just as Minnie had scooped him back up on her arm. He tossed her a thankful look and shook out his feathers as Morgana continued. “Your wings are far too big for that.  You’ve got to focus on shaping the air beneath them. Don’t fight the wind – use it. Make every stroke count.”

He tilted his head thoughtfully and then shifted his weight again. 

“Want me to give you a boost?” Minnie whispered, and he looked at her momentarily before chirping in what she decided must be agreement. She lowered her arm and he crouched, waggling his feathers. Then he let out a screech she took to mean “go!” and she lifted her arm to send him up in the air.

When he first spread his wings, they looked uneven and clumsy. They caught the air, but nearly sent him tilting too far in either direction. A few choppy beats did nothing to steady him, but then Mickey managed a single, powerful downward sweep, and his wings returned outstretched in perfect time. Minnie cried out happily, and he glanced back at her with an expression she was sure was pride. 

She was right, of course. Mickey wasn’t entirely happy to be stuck the way he was–Morgana had tricked him, no matter how many times she claimed otherwise. But even he could admit, as the air billowed under his feathers in just the right way, there was an unmistakable thrill that flooded his chest. 

On the next stroke, he didn’t fight the air quite so much, instead shaping his wings so that they drew it underneath, the spiraling wind sending him upwards as the tips of his furthest plumes stretched towards the sky. When he looked down to see Minnie beaming up at him, he felt certain he could touch the stars without ever growing tired.

He let out a screech that would have been something like a whoop if he’d been in his human form, and allowed himself to soar higher, breaking through the glowing canopy to rise up into the skies above.

It was nearly twilight again, and the shifting colors sent a rush through Mickey like he’d never felt before. Familiarity and freedom and heartache all at once. Like he’d just found something he’d lost a long, long time ago. The wind rushed around his feathers, as crisp and cold as a river rushing past a hand dipped among its currents. 

The faerie realm stretched on endlessly, and he could hear the quiet breath of the world waking up again, bathed in the coolness of night. He heard flowers unfurling and fog settling like a blanket over the forests. Yawns of waking faeries and ripples of dew puddling beside their homes of wooden knotholes and arching leaves. And…

Oh. Singing. 

It was difficult at first to sort through all the sounds drifting through his ears – which were near and which were far away. It seemed to him he could hear everything there was to hear. But this sound, this song, he knew at once it was nearby. His eyes scanned the surface of the forest until he caught a glimpse of a gap in the canopy. This patch alone was covered in fog, but he could see the river they’d been following flowing from it. Or…well, was it?

Mickey had to squint to make sense of what he was seeing, because it seemed at first that the river itself was being overcome by a rush of earth, as the blue nearest the foggy clearing vanished slowly, replaced instead by a dirty brown. But no, he realized after a moment, there was no river of mud. The water was simply drying, as if some wellspring had suddenly ceased to exist. 

The song grew louder, and his wings missed a beat. The twilight sky had filled him with a blazing excitement only moments ago, but now he found himself feeling lackadaisy, like he wanted nothing more than to forget all his troubles and go dancing the night away. There was no harm in that, surely. He’d worked so hard and he was so tired, so lonely. This music felt like it could take that all away, like if he’d just join in he’d never have to worry about a thing ever again.  

His wings didn’t line up on their next stroke, left him steadily declining. He didn’t notice.

There was a lingering feeling like he was forgetting something, but it was slipping away. That was fine by Mickey. At least he thought it was. He didn’t like the feeling of conflict that arose within him, like there were two pieces of his heart fighting with each other – over what he wasn’t sure.

On the next wingbeat, which he nearly missed again, the speckles in his feathers blazed with light, and a searing pain ignited in his twisted plume. And he remembered. He remembered how he’d gotten the scar, remembered Minnie and the dagger and the swipe of the blade as she set him free, caught him in her arms and bandaged his wounds. And he remembered, in a way that almost seemed as if it wasn’t his memory at all, that it wasn’t the first time they’d met. No…no…he knew her long before that. And, gradually, he grew to remember a moment where there’d been…a song…like this one.  Then, he remembered the thought that scorched his thoughts the moment he’d heard its tune. 

Danger! 

The flare of the memory startled him awake, and he let out a screech to shatter the spell that had fallen over him.  The enchantment fought him, threatened to draw him back in, and he struggled bitterly against its pull. When it only continued to poke at his consciousness, he immediately folded his wings and dove towards where he’d left his friends. He refused to rest his voice long enough to let the song seep through. The sick feeling in his gizzard was enough to remind him. He’d nearly forgotten her. Nearly left her behind.

Now, shrieking and screeching and shaking his head to clear the magic from his mind, he pierced through the canopy towards his friends. He barely had the sense to spread his wings before he reached the ground, but whether he’d thought it or not, they did it for him and cushioned his fall just enough to keep him from getting too badly hurt. He landed in a cloud of dust, the song still filling his ears as he stumbled amidst his friends, several of whom immediately rushed to kneel beside him. 

Minnie gasped, he thought he heard, and gathered him up in her arms, running her fingers through his feathers. “Mickey, what’s wrong?? Mickey! Mickey!” 

[lgcdavika]

✧˖*°࿐ the interview about that sunday in the village

davika was confident about the interview. being in front of the camera lost its power to make her nervous, to make her doubt that how she wants to present herself comes through. it always does. it's almost automatic and scary how she has an automatic headspace when the time to do interviews arrive.

davika hasn't quite reconciled the discrepancy between how she wanted to the weekend to be and how it actually went. she hated that, for the first time in a long time, things did not go her way. and worse, she didn't fight it, nor did she made any efforts to steer it to the direction she thought she wanted it to go. she had let things unfold the way they were supposed it, and with it, she allowed herself to be taken by it, like jumping into a coursing river. unsure, out of control. out of her control. it's far too early to be complacent and to fall into the arms of nostalgia. she cannot afford that at this time. and not anytime soon.

and while the turbulent thoughts pounded in her head, the interview had commenced. "tell us about your favorite moment for today." it was a predictable question, part of the many that was in her list. answers were already prepared really, it was only a matter of adjusting delivery to how things unfolded with outside intervention, or which story would get more attention. "my favorite moment was..." the smile on her face wavers for a second, but she instantly moves as if she were thinking hard, crossing her arms, brows knitted as she hummed. as though she were thinking hard because there were so, so many. the forced sarcasm in her head made her cringe. which was odd because... when did she have any internal incongruence before this? it was far too long, or worst, it never happened.

'my favorite part of today was hayoung unnie checking up on me' it was not an easy thing to say, though knowing davika it was supposed to be. it would have opened a conversation, a curious little thought that there may be a connection. it's brilliant! and she didn't even force, it fell on her lap. so why can she not just say it? it was right there. "my favorite moment was... when we sold the homemade products, i think it struck everyone's competitiveness again, you know?" she smiled, not even a hint of insincerity anywhere.

the second question came right away, "and how do you feel about that challenge?" and davika was starting to get annoyed. but she cannot let that show, not even one bit. "i wanted to keep the winning streak, because i was part of the winning team yesterday." she replied with the same warm and friendly smile that she keeps on when the energy to perform winds down. 'i like winning' was more like it, she'd have this interview in the bag if she played the cheeky card. but she just couldn't and it felt like utter betrayal. she had develop a way to deal with the remnants of others' betrayal but not of her own.

"after today's or this weekend's activities, who do you feel closer to?" davika never weighed in on that sans the benefits... this question is as basic as it can get, it was standard and she shouldn't think too hard about it. she knew what to say and how to play it? so why is it so damn difficult to say something now? she wasn't even thinking about playing safe, she had cards prepared. she had plans like it was some kind of simulation. why be... sentimental now? "i think i got closer to other trainees who aren't really part of my circle of friends?" she starts, nodding her head as she finds a spot to on the floor to stare at, acting as if she were pondering over some kind of shared core memory. this would have been such a solid, screen time worthy performance if she could concentrate properly. "i made more friends this weekend, and that's one of the best things i got here".

davika finished the interview with flying colors, of course. not clueless, but not an expert either. when she finished her turn and left with her thoughts, she felt even more frustrated with herself. like she had dropped the ball when the universe was conspiring in her favor this time around. she choked. and that has never, ever happened before. why did she let that happen? because of a weekend when she felt like she belonged? a weekend when she felt like everything goes her way like the planets were aligning? she knows better than to trust feelings and how life goes.

[annnaanya]

Far-Fetched.

I had a lot to say about love when I was young. When I was 13, I think I read too much fanfiction and YA fiction for my own good to make me think that I was eligible to write about something so complicated and confusing. I felt like I knew so much about it and how it works—the fun and the mundane things about it. But I was merely a child, still. I barely knew anything about how the world works, let alone how love works.

When I was 15, I thought I was finally fit to write about it. It's a shame but I guess the world works in mysterious fucked up ways. 15-year-old me got her heart broken long before she understood what love should really mean. Maybe there was some truth to it. Maybe there was some fucked up lesson behind all the pain that I had to endure as a 15-year-old teenage girl. But one thing's for sure, I may have the slightest bit of idea of how the world worked back then, but I was still clueless... about who I am, where I was supposed to be, and who I want to be. There was still so much out there more important than falling in love. Figuring out who I really am is one of those things.

Turning 18, you would think that it would make some kind of change in how I view love... Well... Adulting only diverted my attention to more important things than finding someone to cherish. Adult life was more complicated than I thought it would be. With my depression lurking in the corner—waiting for their graveyard shift, college applications, going to college, friendship break ups, trying to make new friends, and dealing with the pressure of maintaining the class standing that I once had no problem keeping... learning personally about love... it was completely out of the picture. As much as the idea of having someone to hold me while dealing with all of those is charming and romantic, my brain did not permit me to be in a state that is capable of feeling it.

In a few days, I will leave my teenage years behind. I'll be twenty. Witnessing the first wedding that my family had in years made me realize how far-fetched the idea of falling in love was for me. And there really is no one to blame for this but myself. I find that I became too ambitious to figure out if I want to do the same. I realized that maybe I wasn't fitting for that kind of committment, maybe not until I pleased the eyes that are leering at me or until I've pleased my heart with the things that I want right now.

I was always proud of how many books I've read in my entire life, and how early it was when I took a liking to reading books. But maybe it was more of a curse than it was a blessing. For the cherry on top, I've been fangirling since I was 13 (hence, tumblr as my choice of platform for writing my word vomits), obviously, it's already a dead giveaway that the standards are through the roof. I expect so much from love and I can't expect so much from people. It's a losing game to risk it with such high expectations. Taylor Swift A philosopher once said, falling feels like flying till the bone crush. It's only going to hurt. And being too hurt to function is the last thing on my list right now. I have responsibilities and people to tend to and I am already faltering. I cannot let my guard down or I will fall completely and lose everything I have worked so hard to have right now.

That being said, whenever I am told what to do when I commit to that kind of obligation, my response will always be... "Mapapanis nalang ako sa bahay ng nanay ko." (I would rather rot in my mother's home) But we all know, I am just not ready for that kind of conversation. Maybe not until I've carried out my dues.