#so i get a constant feed of what these random children did in a day (yesterday a girl showed my sister her poop lol)

[non-un-topo]

Have to thank my partner for realizing before I did that talking about kids with people makes me extremely dysphoric --- whereas I thought I just had a problem and hated children or something lol

[lovelykhaleesiii]

She’s Wonderful

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,797

SUMMARY (Anon Request) - “Hi, may I request, what is it like to be in a cute relationship (as "cute" as possible knowing that he probably has a great dependency towards the reader) with aegon, and how would he introduce her to his family 👪 (including rhaenyra and her children).Thank you, I love the way you write🫶🫶”

WARNINGS: clingy/needy Aegon, fluff, slightly obsessive!Aegon

A/N - this was the fic I lost but I think I remembered most of what I wrote. Still can’t get over it but hope it’s good 😭

Aegon would be so obsessed with you. He was skeptical at first, although coming to know how serious you were about your relationship with him, he would cling to you like no tomorrow. 

Always wanting to know your whereabouts, what your plans for the day were (just to see if he could intervene or see you), and always just asked how you were. 

He LOVED just listening to you talk, he could listen to your voice for hours and you could be talking nonsense. He loved the small moments with you, laying in bed with you in his arms or his head laid against your chest/stomach, as his fingers gently traced over your skin, or played with the strands of your hair. 

When he initially started to 'invade' your personal space, and at first it was overwhelming, as you'd never been paid this much attention before, although you would come to understand why he was so clingy to you.

You were the first and (if you were being honest) the only genuine person that loved him for him, regardless of the crimes and unspeakable things he had committed, you remained undoubtedly by his side.

And since he had met you, he voyaged never to harm or deceive you like that, he could never forgive himself if he felt unfaithful towards you.

Aegon found himself often spoiling you: you were not generally a materialistic person, although Aegon took it upon himself to shower you with as many treasures and gifts as possible, from delicious treats and wine Westeros could offer, the finest silks to wear, and the most bewitching jewels to don. There wouldn't even be a formal occasion to the day, it was out of pure love that he did so.

You’d come to also realise how whiny and sulky Aegon would become if he noticed a man taking much of your time talking, he would convince himself that there intentions were an attempt to ‘steal’ you from him. He’d be so engulfed in his horrid thoughts, when you seek him out lonesome in his room, he’d often be crying as he consoled with you out of pure fear of losing you. Only your constant reassurance and affections would cure him and bring him back to reality.

“Aegon you are the only man I hold dear, I could nor would I ever love another.”

Nonetheless, Aegon thrives off of how well you nurtured him. He loved that you would attend to his basic needs yourself, preparing his bath for him after a long, tiresome day of training, occasionally especially if he felt that he has not seen you enough throughout the day, he’d urge you to bathe him yourself (it would always end up with him pulling you into the water for a quickie). Just as a bonus, you’d even give him massages, your touch was all he needed. He especially loved when you would feed him. He went feral over eating grapes and small cakes off your fingers/palm, licking the sweet taste off your fingers.

On a random note, your scent was intoxicating to him. After a while, you were convinced he could smell you out.

Aegon would definitely be the first to say the words “I love you”, he didn’t plan to, in fact he tried to wait till you said it first, for he did not want to be greeted with disappointment. However, in such an intimate moment, he would just blurt it out. He’d noticed your reaction, or more so the delay. He’s whole demeanour would shift and you could notice it and intervened before his doubts would overpower him again. You exchanged the words and instantly, a smile reappeared on his face.

From that moment onwards, Aegon would talk to you late hours in the night about his intentions to wed you as soon as possible, plans for children and life in general.

He wanted you to meet the family first, as it would be inevitable. Although, even if they gave the slightest hint of disapproval for whatever pathetic reason, he wouldn’t buy it. “We can runaway, don’t much care for this throne.”

Aegon had tried to put the occasion of you meeting his family off for quite sometime. He worried that their provoking tendencies and high expectations would frighten you away, although you’d constantly reassure him that you were ready, and so long as he remained by your side, that was all you needed.

He actually introduced you to his dragon, Sunfyre first: he would talk about his special bond with the dragon and only until you’d seen it for yourself that you understood it. Sunfyre was an exquisite creature, and much like its rider, it shared the same genuine affection to your presence, and became protective of you. Aegon had no doubts that Sunfyre would retaliate against you.

The time has come however, and Aegon had organised for an intimate family dinner, with you as his companion. The family would be given a prep talk by Aegon individually, although whether they listened he had no idea. Even Rhaenyra and his nephews would be present to meet you.

He first introduced you to his parents, King Viserys and Queen Alicent.

Viserys was immediately very fond of your warm and hospitable demeanour, although due to his condition he was unable to stay for long before being escorted back to his quarters.

Much to Aegon’s shock, his father’s approval of you was the first moment he deemed proud of Aegon.

“I’m proud of you, boy.” And it was all thanks to you.

Alicent, on the other hand, remained quiet during most of the first encounter. She listened and carefully watched the way you spoke and carried yourself, throughout the night she observed you with each of her kin and did not want to make a haste decision, although much to your favour you were winning her over, however she made it hard to tell for even Aegon struggled to figure his mother out.

Otto, the Hand and Aegon’s grand sire, was the next you’d been introduced to. And out of everyone there that night, he was the most intimidating although he seemed not to care much. Only exchanging hellos before he returned to his seat, much to his own thoughts.

Aemond was the next, who remained quiet just as his mother’s side of the family, although still more interested in you. Aegon would later disclose to you, that Aemond found it hard to believe that his older brother had managed to score a well-mannered beauty like yourself. He was convinced that Aegon had either threatened or deceived you into such a union, which you’d both share a laugh over.

Helaena, the sweetest of them all, was quick to take a liking in you. As you’d greeted each other, you merely allowed her to speak, listening to her words and dreamy thoughts, which no one ever really offered her the platform to speak. She appreciated this, and knew she could trust you.

As you moved on to speak to the youngest Daeron, Helaena remained by Aegon’s side as they both watched you.

“She is very pretty, brother.” Aegon looked at her briefly before his longing gaze returned to you, giving her a simple nod and half-hearted smile, before he returned to stand by your side.

Daeron, young did not care for much, and presumed you were just another ‘bought’ companion of Aegon’s. Aegon would scold him later for this, holding his tongue as to not ruin the occasion.

In turn, you both walked towards Rhaenyra, Aegon’s older, half-sister and her side of the family at the other end of the dining hall. Aegon gestured for his mother to assist, for he did not have a proper relationship with Rhaenyra.

“Nyra, this is Aegon’s betrothed, Y/N-” Alicent lovingly exclaimed, one hand gripping your arm as the other supported your back. Her introduction had caught both Aegon and yourself off guard, you both sharing a fleeting moment as you smiled before facing Rhaenyra again.

That was proof of Alicent’s approval.

As Rhaenyra introduced herself, her fellow sons began to file in, eager to introduce themselves to you.

Jacerys, politely bowed, reaching for your hand as he planted a soft kiss, before looking up to smirk at his Uncle. Aegon simply rolling his eyes in response.

“It is lovely to meet you, dearest Y/N.”

Lucerys, more timid and shy than his older brother, bowed also, as you did, before uttering a warm hello, did he manage to crack a smile. However you noticed his eyes would scan across behind you occasionally: only to realise later it was Aemond he was anxiously looking at from across your shoulder, who merely fixed his firm gaze into his nephew, a sly grin on his face, up to no good.

Joffrey, the youngest, held in his mother’s arms, as he was the youngest in the room. Much like Luke, was shy and avoided your gaze, as he buried his face in the crook of his mother’s neck. You only managed to stroke his little hand with your thumb as a welcome.

“I do hope the night hasn’t already started to overwhelm you, this family can be quite intense at times,” Rhaenyra advises supportingly.

“Not at all, Princess. I also have a large family, I think I’ve grown used to the chaos it offers.”

“Oh this is Daemon, my husband, Daemon this is Y/N, the newest addition to the family.”

Daemon remained seated as his eyes scanned you from head to toe, giving a quick bow of his head with a soft welcome, before sculling the beverage in his cup.

Rhaenyra inched closer towards you, as she discreetly apologised for Daemon’s manner.

“Do not fret, Princess, I am not upset at all.”

She gave you a gentle squeeze before you’d all resumed your seats at the table.

The family continued engaged with you throughout the night, asking questions as they were keen to know more about you.

“Do not bombard her with such personal questions, let her eat.” Aegon scolded, although you reassured him that it was alright, you were relieved that they were showing interest in you.

He sat back relaxing himself, taking his drink in his hand, carefully observing you with a smile beaming on his face, that had never left since he’d brought you in.

Caught in his own fantasies of you in his head, he hadn’t noticed that his mother had crept up behind him, nudging him back to reality.

“She’s wonderful, Aegon. Truly I am proud of you.”

Aegon smiled brightly at his mother, nodding at her approval, his hand instinctively reached for yours as he held it reaffirmingly. He loved you, the family loved you, and soon the realm would to.

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Aiden starts forgetting things from his pre-Witcher life and panics. Luckily Cedric is there to help out.

Aiden's relationship with Cedric inspired by @inexplicifics . Check out their stuff, it's amazing!!

Aiden felt his breathing start to hitch, he’d finally managed to get the soup to go from a bright orange to a dark brown but it still didn’t smell right. No matter what he tried something was off and he didn’t know how to fix it. It was stupid Joel’s fault! He was the one who’d started a conversation over dinner about what their favourite foods had been from before.

“This soup my mother used to make." Aiden had replied, "It was so spicy it’d always make my nose run a little, but I loved it.”

Someone, he couldn’t remember who, had asked what had been in it to make it so warm and Aiden’s mind had turned blank. And so here he was in the relative privacy of the far side of the camp on the pretence of working on his potion making, hunched over a small cooking fire and surrounded by pilfered jars, trying to prove something.

It wasn’t fair! They’d been warned they’d start forgetting bits and pieces of their old lives but why did he have to lose this first? Why not the name of the town where he broke his wrist when he was three, or the time some random farmer let him feed an apple to his horse? Why did it have to be parts of her first?

He and his mother were always on the road, just the two of them. She’d never explained the why and wherefores, or if she had, he’d been too young to fully understand. All he knew was that while the other sights, sounds and smells had been ever changing, this one had been constant. The sweet, spicy smell permeating the air as Aiden watched her add various powders to the broth with all the precision of an alchemist. The two of them sat with a mug each as she ran her fingers through his hair and told him stories or sang in a language Aiden only half knew, the smell of the spices clinging to her clothes.

“Aiden, what are you – shit, kid. Guxart’s going to throw a fit when he sees this. You know how expensive these are.” Cedric said, taking in the scattered jars of various spices, some a good deal emptier than they had been whilst others were spilling half of their contents onto the grass.

Aiden turned to him, looking completely lost, “I can’t remember it. It’s something that’s always been in the back of my head, but when I try to actually think about it, it’s not...I can’t.” He buried his head in his hands with what might have been a sob.

Cedric edged closer, leaning over the pot and taking an appraising sniff, “You used too much Cumin.”

Aiden peered at him from behind his fingers, “What?”

“Cumin. It’s smothering everything else. Here, balance it with this.” He held out one of the jars to Aiden, “Keep adding it until I tell you to stop. Ok?”

As predicted, Cedric’s presence acted like a balm as he calmly gave instructions. It had been that way ever since the older Witcher had bent to his level with a friendly smile. Giving Aiden one of the sweet, flaky pastries he’d been eyeing covetously earlier while he quizzed him about where his mother was (he honestly had no idea. She’d told him to wait in the market and that had been two days ago) and what he knew about Witchers.

When he was around ten years old, Aiden had asked Cedric if he actually was his father: the two of them looked similar enough after all with the same unruly curly hair, the same nose and dimpled smile and he sure as hell acted like he was Aiden's parent sometimes. Cedric had laughed until he’d choked before explaining that no, they shared no blood in either of their respective family lines, and why it was impossible for Witchers to sire children so if he had any hopes of that, best dash them to the wind right now (at the time, Aiden had screwed his face up in response. Babies – blech).

Aiden took a mouthful of the finished soup before passing the mug over to Cedric, who’d bitched good-naturedly about how “You better plan on sharing seeing as I did half the work.”

“How did you know how to make it right?” Aiden asked, “You’re way older than me and I couldn't remember anything.”

“Cheeky shit.” Cedric aimed a lazy swipe at his head which Aiden easily dodged, “One of my predecessors taught me how, decades back. Not everyone here's a fan of spicy shit so I tend to make it for myself on The Path when I can.”

“You mean you’ve been able to make this the entire time I’ve known you and you never said anything?”

“Neither did you.” Cedric countered, “If I’d known this was important to you I would’ve shown you how way sooner. I keep telling you, at least one person around here will know something if you ask. Witcher shit isn’t the only stuff that gets passed down you know.”

“Well yeah. But I always just thought that meant like, drinking games and dirty songs and shit like that. That’s all I’ve seen get passed down when everyone’s back here for winter.”

Cedric snorted, “You’re not completely wrong. Nah, more personal stuff tends to be sorted in private. Which is why nobody bothered us after I shooed Axel away. He came over when you were trying to get the curry powder off your hands.” He said in answer to Aiden’s unspoken question of when the hell had Axel been there, “Seriously though.” He handed the mug back to Aiden, “Anything else before another meltdown occurs? I’m waaay older after all. I can probably tell you the best person to ask.”

Aiden shook his head, leaning against Cedric's side and momentarily picturing himself as that little boy sat in his mother’s lap while she held the mug steady to stop him spilling.

“Just this. For now.”

[3dayweeknd]

this is gonna be another dumb rant. its giving privileged

no tw

during the middle of dinner we were talking about if I move out will i take the dogs and I said if im aloneand long distance at vet school i dont think i could handle it. like maybe right now if it was me and my brother sure but not if its just me while im literally in med school. anyway all of the sudden my dad is all serious like mom if you hate them so much we should get rid of them genuinely. like im serious mom u hate them soo much we should get rid of them. like what the fuck that was so random. shes like no we're not gonna do that like i'm exaggerating i dont hate them etc etc whatever. and he just kept fucking going like nuh uh i know u hate them and if it makes so u mad we should give them up. and shes like ok lindsey is sitting right there. let's not traumatize her by suddenly getting rid of the dogs. and shes right. and hes like i dont give a fuck i'd rather lindsey has to go to therapy to deal with it than see u escalate your "hatred" of the dogs. like what the fuck dude. thats actually fucked up. first of all my mom would never hurt the dogs. she gives them more care than you have ever given. second of all, what the fuck. what the fuck happened to you hating me being in therapy. I know real fucking well that if you for some reason did go through with it, you would tell me to deal with it on my own. you would shame me for needing therapy and for mourning. i never want to be like him it makes me so mad. you got these dogs by your own choice when i was a child this is on you because you were a grown man and you for some reason did not think to discuss with or even notify your wife that animals were coming home. and you think living beings are so easily disposable you are so fucking privileged you think you can drop your animal off with strangers and never think of them again well fuck you. you should have thought of the commitment when you brought them home. and promising your children things just to constantly threaten taking it away is yet another fucked up thing I never want to do and i hope i never have children so you never get the chance to do that to them. oh lindsey let get a dog, oh now you (a 10 year old) won't walk them well lets throw them away. oh lindsey here's a rabbit you love rabbits well guess what even though you're 10 years old i'm making you responsible for a whole living thing. oh no why are you mad at me years later oh no why do you face constant guilt as an adult about some dumb fucking rabbit. stupid fuckinghhhhh it makes me so mad. you can't promise things and use them as threats you cant promise things and take them away you cant promise to care for a living being and act like it's disposable. it's a dog its not a toy its not an accessory you cant abandon them when you are perfectly capable of giving care. you're not even a caretaker you walk them once or twice a day and maybe feed once. you have never seen a vet bill in your life you've never seen a medication in your life you've never trained in your life you don't know anything about my dogs. you never listen you never want to help. if i get the chance i will be getting them away from you. i never want to see you own another animal i never want you to discuss my animals with me again.

[dodo-begone]

Crotch Goblins

Pairing: Purpled x Reader, Ranboo x Reader, Tommy x Reader, Tubbo x Reader

Request: wait would it be cringe if i like. requested your take on the yandere kids

Word Count: 1.6K

Warning: yandere, fighting mentioned, stalking, fear of abandonment, anxiety, stealing, kidnapping, the egg

A/N: This is all platonic! Nothing romantic.

Ranboo

This poor child lives in constant fear of forgetting you. His memory issues are a big problem and it affects everybody he loves. And his anxiety definitely doesn’t help his situation; it only feeds his paranoia of losing you.

To prevent losing any precious memories of you, he’ll write down so much about you. He’d probably have books on books just dedicated to things about you he wants to remember. Another way to always remember you is to never be away from you! It’s much harder to forget somebody if you’re constantly around them!

If you allow it, he’ll fucking cling to you. He loves the attention and reassurance you give him. Aw yeah he's a poor memory boy and constantly scared of Dream and enderwalking. Please stay by him??? Pretty please??

He’ll occasionally come over to your house in search of your company. Though he won’t tell you that directly. It’ll be under the pretense that he’s very scared of something happening and wanted to stay with you for some comfort. Not all of that’s a lie though. He always goes to you when he’s anxious; you’re his safe place. You make everything right and good again. You found it rather endearing that he trusted and liked you so much. Baked treats would always be on standby for his visits.

He’ll occasionally come over to your house in search of your company. Though he won’t tell you that directly. It’ll be under the pretense that he’s very scared of something happening and wanted to stay with you for some comfort. Not all of that’s a lie though. He always goes to you when he’s anxious; you’re his safe place. You make everything right and good again. You found it rather endearing that he trusted and liked you so much. Baked treats would always be on standby for his visits.

He’ll slowly start to stay at your house for longer and come back quicker. Soon he’s practically living with you. You’re not bothered by it at first, and you don’t think about it after a while. The domesticity of the situation just feels right. Why would you disrupt something like this?? And he deserves some of this. After all, the dsmp isn’t a nice place, and especially not to Ranboo. Why don’t you just let him have this?

Tommy

Tommy lives in constant fear of you abandoning him. Or worse, having someone take you from him. He’s lost so many loved ones already, and he doesn’t know how many more he can live through. You’re one of his most prized possessions, besides Tubbo and the Disks. Above Tubbo, but a close contender with the disks.

He’s gonna be clingy af. And he’ll do anything you want him to. By that, he really means anything he thinks you’d want him to do or something that’s “necessary”. Overall it’s just bad stuff. Be prepared for some warfare to happen just for you.

No thought, only fighting. Fights will break out over the silliest things. Like he wants attention from you? Fight! Someone getting too close?? Begone thot!! This is his friend! Not theirs! Back off.

After every fight, you’ll bandage his wounds while lecturing him. Not a single thing you say will be properly heard by Tommy. Your words would slur together in his ears, turning themselves into a beautiful song. Did you know your voice sounds really good? Oh yeah, you make the pain go away so quickly too. Your medical skills are just so fucking good, can’t you see?

There will be no question that he’d steal for you; he’d do it without question or request. If he finds anything that you might like or need? Yoinked as soon as the old owner isn’t looking. Finders keepers, after all. The smp is a dog-eat-dog world. And you deserve the fucking best shit man. If you find out it’s stolen, you’d return it in a heartbeat with so many apologies. You somehow found it somewhere and you didn’t know it was theirs. Wow you must like Tommy if you’re covering for him like that!

You’d be dragged around by Tommy on some days. All a grand tour to show you his creations, and he begrudgingly shows you some of the builds by the others. He feels somewhat inadequate when he eventually shows you his stuff. Like his multiple cobblestone towers. But you’re giving such nice compliments for each one. And they’re all so unique too. No two compliments are the same. He is a really good builder, huh?

Tubbo

He’s going to be protective of you. Not overbearingly so, but definitely is watching out for your safety a ton. With him having watched the lives of those he loves fall apart around them, he doesn’t want the same fate to fall upon you. He can’t go through that cycle again, and especially so soon. You’re so nice too. You definitely don’t deserve that fate.

Micheal took a liking to you really quickly. If Micheal likes you, that means that you’re a part of the family. He doesn’t care what you have to say, it’s just facts. You have a problem with it? Try bringing that up to Micheal. Want to tell him that you aren’t a part of the family? Exactly. So that means that you are a member.

Oh and you help him so much, which he’s thankful for. And it’s not just to a specific type of task either. You help with everything. Building, cooking, caring for Micheal, the whole biz. With you doing so much and putting so much effort into everything, that must mean that you love him like he loves you, right? Nobody does this much for somebody else without loving them. So the obvious answer is that you love him back!

Will do anything in his power to convince you to move in with him, Ranboo and Micheal. Like really hard. He pulled all of the charms and stops. And there’s a very slim chance that you didn’t move in. Though you would eventually. There isn’t a chance in hell that you wouldn’t be living in that house by some point. You’d be moving in with or without your consent. Maybe one day you just woke up in the mansion. Oh hey why do you look so confused? You agreed to move in already silly, don’t you remember?

There’s no and, if, or buts about it; he’d get Ranboo in on it also if he wasn’t already. They’re platonically married after all. And the three of you are all friends. So it’s obvious that Ranboo would be in on it as well. If he isn’t, then he’d turn a blind eye to Tubbo’s behavior. Huh, yeah he didn’t notice that at all. Nope, nothing odd happening here.

Would absolutely get you to help him on every little task that he could. Especially with building and taking care of little Micheal. The builds would be little cottage core stuff. Such sweet and quaint things. Not too much or too hard, but very pleasing to the eyes and the feeling of accomplishment the two of you got at the end of the project felt incredible. Children can be such a handful too, so any help for Micheal will be much appreciated. Plus it’s so much fun to play with children, especially children in Micheal’s age group. The more time you spend with them, the less time you have to spend with anyone else. Which leads to a smaller chance of being taken from them.

Purpled

This man? Oh he’s so fucking happy that you and him don’t have many relations outside of each other. It’s so much easier for you two. Since you two are so close, it’s easy to coerce you into living with him. Yeah it may be far from the rest of the smp, but that’s okay. It’s not like you had any friends there. It’s easier to stay safer so far away from everything. And you know what’s even better? Nobody would even notice y’all disappear!

Before y’all moved away, he always conveniently showed up at random times. It was always during times when you were alone or felt alone. Really helped you there; made you feel loved that somebody noticed and was there for you. Though it was odd how often he appeared at just the right moment. You wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth though.

He always knows what to get you. What your favorite flowers are, what food you like, what your favorite color is, your favorite gift items. He even knows your dislikes. Even the ones you don’t tell him. You know, anything a good friend would know.

If somebody even remotely offends/scares/harms you, they’re in fucking trouble. That? Yeah, that’s a valid reason to start a fight. He’ll beat them within an inch of their life and threaten to do it again if they even thought of hurting you like that. >:( Definitely got them to stop talking to you.

Since he’s working for the egg, he feels like the egg could maybe protect you?? Yeah he’s not completely under its control and he sees how crazy the other members of the eggpire are, but it can’t be that bad. The others are just praising it, talking about how it could make all of his deepest desires a reality. Not many people like going to the egg, and they wouldn’t be looking for prisoners there. So it should be safe for you. Well, safer than the outside world. And his deepest desire is your safety and love, so that should be easy to gain if he brought you to the egg, right?

There is no question: he’d kidnap you to bring you to the egg. Though it’ll be after a while of trying to persuade you to come with him for that. You heard so many horrible things about the egg, so it’d be better if you didn’t get involved with that. So if his attempts to get you to the egg fail, then some forceful measures will be used. It was for your best interest after all.

[otakusheep15]

SFW Alphabet - Satan

I had a really hard time trying to get Satan’s character right, so I hope I did a good job with this one

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

He’s not super affectionate, physical, verbal, or otherwise. Really, that’s just a side-effect of him being born from pure wrath. He simply just can’t express emotions very well. You’ll most likely have to initiate any affection if you want it. However, he does also like when you lay your head on his lap and he reads to you since it doesn’t require much. 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He’s the mom friend for sure. He helps you with anything you may need from studying to pranks. Of course, he does also make sure you both make it out of any trouble unscathed. I also lowkey see him as the type to carry around random snacks to feed strays he comes across, and he’ll give some to you so that you can also feed the strays. 

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Like I said, affection isn’t his strong suit, so cuddling isn’t really his thing. The closest he’ll get to cuddling is either you two sitting next to each other on the bed/couch or with him sitting up and you laying on his lap. He may also pat your head like you’re a cat. There might also be reading involved if he’s awake enough to read out loud to you. 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

He does like the idea of settling down, but he’s unsure if he really can. Yes, he can do basic household chores like cooking and cleaning, but he feels as though he couldn’t handle the more emotional side of settling down. Doing something like that means you truly love the person you’re with and he’s afraid that he might not have the emotional capacity to feel that strongly about someone. Then you came along and destroyed all of that nonsense. Now he wants nothing more than to drag you away and live out a romance just like in his favorite books. 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

There would most likely be a lot of yelling. Also lots of things being thrown around in rage. When he’s mad, he’s mad, and a breakup is a great way to get him mad. If he’s the one initiating it, he’ll try to keep a level head, but that solely depends on how the other person reacts. If they’re also calm, then it’ll be pretty civil and respectful, and they might even stay friends after. However, if the other person starts getting mad, that only makes him worse and it does not get better for that other person. 

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

Before you? He never even considered the idea. After you? That’s practically all he can think about. You know that one friend we all have that constantly gushes over sappy romance stories and constantly wishes how that could live them out with their partner? Yeah, that’s him. He’ll never admit that out loud though. The only one who actually knows about all of his fantasies are Asmo because he once walked in on him comparing you to this one character from a romance novel he liked (kinda like Levi with his anime). 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He knows how dangerous he can be. Not only is he a demon, and a powerful at that, but he also the literal embodiment of wrath. Even after years of keeping up his gentlemanly facade, all it takes is the slightest inconvenience to set him off. So he’s extra careful around you. Physically, he tries not to get to close to you, especially when he’s pissed off. Verbally, he tries to watch his language around you because he doesn’t want to hurt you by saying anything mean.  

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

His hugs are extremely rare but surprisingly nice. Since he’s scared he might hurt you by accident, and his lack of need for physical affection, he doesn’t hug you very often. However, they are super relaxing when they do happen. He hugs you just tight enough to keep you pressed to his body, but not so tight that it’s uncomfortable. 

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

Out of all the brothers, he one of the last ones to say it. He’s not all the familiar with the concept of love, especially in romantic context. Obviously, he knows how it feels in theory, but he can hardly figure it out in practice. The worst part is that he knows he loves you, but he has no clue how to go about it. When he does finally say it, he seems perfectly calm and collected, but he’s internally screaming the whole time. You’ll never know.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Surprisingly, he’s not one to get jealous easily. One of the benefits of having a poor grasp on emotions maybe? Whatever the case, he always tends to take a more logical approach to things, relationships included. He knows that you’re loyal to him and so he trusts you. If he has any reason to be jealous, then he’ll talk to you and workout any problems or concerns.  

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

His kisses can go one of two ways. They can 1) be the softest, most romantic kisses you’ve ever felt in your life, or 2) the most heated and passionate kisses you’ve ever felt in your life. Literally no in between. The former will usually happen during softer moments of bliss. Maybe you two were just in his room and relaxing or in the library studying. The latter only ever happens during more ~spicy~ times *wink wink*. 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He hates kids. That’s it. He hates them. They’re such a hassle, they need constant supervision and care, and they never shut up. He is a firm believer in children being the worst creatures in all the three realms. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He always wakes up first no matter what. He’ll go down to the kitchen and make you a cup of tea, but that’s only when you guys don’t have school. If you do have school, he’ll wake you up as gently as possible and help you get ready. 

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

He’ll usually drag you to hs room so that you two can spend the evening reading together. Sometimes you end up sitting next to each other and reading your own books, others you may end up in his lap while he reads to you. You mostly end up falling sleep first, and he’ll follow soon after. 

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

This boy is the definition of closed off. It does not matter how close you are to him or how much he trusts you, he will never tell you anything. Okay, he does tell you some things, but only surface level stuff. If you want the real, honest answers he has, you need to pry them out yourself. 

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Lmao what’s patience? Seriously though, he actually has a decent amount of patience. He trained himself really hard in order o control his anger, so he can actually be pretty chill for the most part. Obviously, he still gets mad all the time, especially with Lucifer, but he does try his best. 

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

He’s totally the type to write down facts about you in a secret journal somewhere so that he can reference it later. He has a great memory, but he loves just writing down everything you tell him about yourself just in case he forgets anything. He will never tell you or anyone else about the journal, but if anyone finds out, they will never be heard from again. 

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

He isn’t one to have any particular moment in mind, but he absolutely treasures those quiet moments when you two are alone. No brothers to bother you, plenty of books and snacks, and just each others presence. It’s quiet, calm and peaceful. These moments don’t happen very often due to the chaos around you, so when they do happen it’s special. Just being able to spend time with you is his favorite thing in all three worlds. 

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He is arguably one of the most protective brothers, and that’s saying something. The second someone even hints at hurting you, they’re dead. They just cease to exist. He will not let a single thing harm his precious human, and he’ll do whatever it takes to ensure your safety. He’d even go so far as to get himself in trouble if it means getting you out of it. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

He’s much more casual than most of his brothers, so he doesn’t see the need in planning over-the-top dates. Obviously, he wants you to be happy no matter what, but he knows he doesn’t need extravagant dates to make that happen. I mean, if you like things like that he’ll certainly try for you, but it’s just not his style. He prefers causal, lowkey dates. Coffee shop dates, going to bookstores together, sitting in his or your room and reading all day, and going out to play with the stray cats are all ideal dates for him. He just knows that, as long as you two are together, everything is already perfect. 

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Obviously, he has some issues he needs to work out. His anger issues are, of course, the main issue, but that also leads into other problems. For example, his daddy issues hatred for Lucifer is something he needs to get sorted out. He also has a hard time expressing his true feelings for fear of letting his anger out as well. Most of his issues are emotional, so he needs a lot of time to work on them. 

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He’s not so much concerned with physical appearance so much as social appearance. he is highly concerned about how he looks to the public. If he needs to look physically appealing in order to keep a good social standing, then he’ll do it. He’s not vain like Asmo or Mammon, but he’d be quick to put more into his appearance if it means he gains something out of it socially. 

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Honestly, he’s felt incomplete since being born, so even with you he doesn’t feel quite complete. You definitely help fill some of that void he has in him, but not even you can fix him completely. If you did leave him, he’d be back at square one, so he needs you to be there in order to make him feel even the slightest bit more whole. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

As I stated before, I think he keeps a journal of all of your interests so that he can remember then, but I think it goes deeper than that. I also think he has one for each of his brothers that he keeps on him. Any time one of his brothers mentions something they like, he’ll write it down to keep it for later. That way, if an occasion (birthday, anniversary, etc.) that would require this information would ever arise, he would already have it written down. No one knows about these, and he’ll take this secret to his grave. 

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

He refuses to even acknowledge someone without even the slightest bit of academic prowess. If he deems you to be stupid, you’ll never even hear from him again. He also cannot stand people who dislike cats. 

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

He has a tendency to move around a lot when he sleeps. No one has any clue as to why, but it’s not really a problem. That is until you two start sleeping together. He either ends up on top of you or kicking you out of the bed. In the morning, he’ll apologize, but it’s not something he can really fix. 

[acnelli]

First Time Falling

This is my entry for the @hpqueerfest 2021. Thanks to the mods who hosted this! And a big thank you to my great beta-readers @nagemeikenu and @static-abyss who put up with my phone-writery (writing time is hard to come by these days).

This story was inspired by Prelude and Fugue by shes_gone, and it’s set in a world where Harry didn’t go to Hogwarts, but had been prepared for his destiny.

Pairing: Harry Potter/Ron Weasley Rating: T TW: strong language, mentions of war time, mentions of drug and alcohol consume Prompt: Falling in love for the first time as an adult (late 20’s-early 30’s) Summary: Harry Potter –Head-Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World– spontaneously asked out a cute redhead and it turned to so much more than he could have ever hoped for. 

You can also read this on AO3 and FFN.

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

Not bothering to knock, Ron Weasley marched into Hermione Granger’s office. The heavy mahogany door slammed against the wall, making Hermione jump up from her chair.

“Ron,” she shrieked as a bunch of paper fell off her desk. “What happened?”

Instead of providing his best friend with an explanation for his sudden intrusion, Ron paced back and forth. The panicked look in his eyes made Hermione assume the worst.

With one swift motion, Hermione stepped in front of the redhead, forcing him to stop his frantic pacing. “Ron, please talk to me,” she pleaded, taking his hand into hers. “What’s going on? Is someone hurt? Is your family okay?”

Hermione’s worried expression and the panic in her voice finally brought Ron to his senses. “No, don’t worry, Hermione,” he sighed as he closed her office door. “I’m sorry! But...do you have time for a quick cup of tea in the cafeteria?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. This report is giving me a headache and I need a break.”

Hermione grabbed her purse and gestured for Ron to lead the way.

“I swear, Ron, if you almost gave me a heart attack over something Quidditch related, I’ll hex you into next week and make your new Firebolt disappear forever,” Hermione added as they made their way down to the Ministry cafeteria.

Ron glanced over at the bushy-haired witch, suppressing a grin as he told her his distress was indeed about Quidditch. They grabbed their beverages and headed towards a free table. Gracing him with a dark look, Hermione gestured for Ron to finally tell her what’s going on.

“Harry Potter asked me out on a date!”

This statement caused Hermione’s drink to go down the wrong way, resulting in a violent coughing fit and her spitting out the tea.

“What?” she wheezed out between coughs, as Ron cleaned his face and shirt with his wand.

He waited patiently until Hermione recovered, both from the coughing fit and the shock. “See, even you don’t believe me,” Ron sighed, harshly rubbing his hands over his face, “I don’t blame you, though. I can’t believe it myself, after all.”

Finally being able to speak again, Hermione put her elbows on the small table and leaned forward, determined to not miss a single thing about this story. “Spill! How? When? Where? And don’t you dare to leave out even the smallest detail.”

Ron shook his head, still in disbelief about what had happened to him just twenty minutes ago. Not being able to wrap his head around it, he decided to tell Hermione today’s events from beginning to end.

“Today, Robertson sent me a memo to come to his office to discuss the ridiculous complaints about the Tornados/Harpies game last week,” Ron started and couldn’t help rolling his eyes about the things he had to put up with at work sometimes. “So, I went there, gave him my report about the match and a brief overview. Thank Merlin, he only asked his usual useless questions about referee bribery claims. I was ready to launch into a whole speech but he suddenly dismissed me and told me to write up a statement for the press.

“I was just on my way back to my office when I met Seamus. The fucking wanker had the nerve to claim the next Cannons match for himself. I know he did that just to spite me so, naturally, I gave him an ear full about it as we waited for the lift. We only noticed Harry Potter standing right behind us when we got inside the lift. I probably sounded like an idiot but Seamus and I kept the conversation up because I always get second-hand embarrassment when people stop talking if Potter walks by or joins the lift.”

Hermione patiently listened to his ramblings, restraining herself from telling him to get to the point already.

Ron sipped on his tea and shook his head. “You know what? I read too much into this. Just realised that I’m acting exactly as everyone else does. What’s the big deal? Just a bloke who wants to have a pint after work.”

Hermione stared at Ron, expecting him to go on with his story, but he just kept sipping his tea.

“Ron!”

“What?”

“How did he ask you out?” She accidentally raised her voice but Hermione was finally losing her patience with him.

“I told you, he most likely-”

“Just tell me the damn story, already!” Hermione snapped, blushing a little when she noticed the people on the other tables giving her funny looks.

“Alright,” Ron said, raising an eyebrow at her. “Calm down, barmy woman.”

“You're the one marching into my office like a lunatic. Spill it! Now!”

With a heavy sigh, Ron continued with his story, curling his hands around the tea mug to keep from fidgeting.

“Seamus had already gotten off at another level, so it was just me and Potter in there. I tried to avoid the awkward silence, so I asked him if he followed Quidditch and was going to listen to or even watch the Tornados match tonight. He said that he does follow Quidditch and that he intended to listen to the match at home but if I'd be up to it, we could listen to it at this new pub that just opened in Diagon. He totally caught me by surprise, but I must've agreed because he told me he'll meet me at the fireplaces at 5. Then he left the lift. Then I freaked out and came to your office.”

Ron marked the end of his story by taking another sip of his tea before he defiantly crossed his arms in front of him.

“Jesus, Harry Potter actually asked you out! Oh my God!” Hermione almost squealed, grasping one of Ron's arms.

“Nah! I don't think so anymore. I bet he just wanted to have a pint and was only being polite when he asked me to come along,” Ron said. “Who'd ask someone out like that anyway?”

“Someone looking for a partner?”

“Yeah, but think about it, Hermione. Why would he ask me out? The guy is not only fucking famous, he's also devilishly handsome. He could have anyone he wanted.”

“So?”

Ron looked at Hermione as though she'd just declared the desire to live as a chicken.

“So? So, why would someone ask me out while on a random stroll through the Ministry? Who'd think ‘Oh, that freakishly tall ginger with more freckles than skin looks kinda awkwardly cute. Let's try to get a leg over?'"

“I dated you,” Hermione interjected.

“You don't count.”

“Well, thank you!” Her sarcasm was all but ignored by Ron.

“I just know I'll embarrass myself tonight,” Ron insisted, looking quite unhappy. “Let's go back to work. I still have to write that useless report.”

“Devilishly handsome, hm?”

“Shut up!”

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

Harry didn't know what had possessed him to ask the cute ginger out for a pint.

Maybe it had been the Prophet article speculating for the umpteenth time about when the Savior of the Wizarding World would finally settle down and make some black-haired, green-eyed babies. Rita Skeeter had many ideas about what worthy witch could conquer the heart of Harry Potter. All things considered, the article had probably not been the worst thing written about him so far.

Sometimes he wondered if he should've taken Sirius’ advice to feed the press and public meaningless details of his life. It wouldn't stop the constant speculations and made-up affairs, but it probably would reduce the paparazzi following him around, the crazy fans sending him love letters and maybe, they would find something more newsworthy than where Harry Potter bought his toilet paper.

But he hated the fact that people demanded this from him. He was 29 now, and while the great hype about him was over, he still seemed to be interesting enough to write about, even over a decade after his defeat of Voldemort.

He knew the majority of the Wizarding World was sincerely grateful for what he'd done. There were so many parents thanking him for the simple fact that they're still alive and able to see their children grow up.

It reminded him that it was all worth it. The sacrifices, the nearly friendless childhood, his secret life away from the public, the growing up with the knowledge that he might not live long enough to celebrate his 17th birthday. All of that had resulted in ending Voldemort once and for all.

When he'd destroyed the Dark Lord and his Horcruxes though, Harry’s hope of finally living a normal life got crushed soon after. In the post-war world, it had been next to impossible to lead a life like everyone else. Because of his childhood and his training by Alastor ‘Mad Eye’ Moody himself, he learned not to trust easily. And since occasions to make friends or interact with strangers had been few and far between, he never really learned what to look for in a friend.

He was well aware that he was complaining about a comfortable life. His parents had left him a respectable amount of gold, and Sirius bought him a flat in London after he graduated from Auror Academy. Maybe he'd gotten this job because of his fame and reputation, but he knew he deserved the position as Head Auror. There was hardly anyone with the same amount of training and experience he brought to the table, and he was under the impression the people working for him did genuinely like him as a boss. Two of them he even considered friends after all these years.

Aside from the two friends at work he also had his family. He had Sirius, Remus, Andromeda, Tonks and his godson, Teddy. He wasn't alone by any means, but he'd never met someone he could possibly fall in love with. Hell, aside from one of Tonks’ old friends from school and her father's attempts to set him up with several of his countless nieces—and later nephews when Harry told his family girls didn't do it for him—he'd never even dated. Toby—a fellow student from elementary school and the only friend his age—dragged him to Muggle pubs and clubs, resulting in the occasional snog or even a shag with a stranger. Needless to say, his first time hadn't exactly been romance novel material and it sure wasn't something he liked to think about. Sometimes, Harry feared that he would never fall in love, that he wasn't capable of developing those feelings for another person.

Those unpleasant thoughts combined with the Rita Skeeter article may have been the result of his sudden impulse to just go for it and ask the redhead out. But it also could have been the brilliant blue eyes, the kind, shy smile and the lean shoulders. Harry was sure, though, that the main reason for it had been the fact that this man hadn't treated him like a Messiah. It had just been an easy conversation, even if it had been only two minutes.

Harry hoped it would remain that way when they watched the game later. In fact, he could just brush it off as a friendly meeting with a fellow Ministry worker if Cute Ginger wasn't interested in anything more.

But when he thought about the redhead’s lopsided grin, Harry felt a foreign flutter in his stomach and he couldn't help but hope for more, even if it was just another visit to the pub.

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

In the 30 years of Ron Weasley’s existence, he'd never been on time for something not work-related. Today, though, he was almost ten minutes early as he waited by the fireplaces for Harry Potter.

Again, he felt rather pathetic. For a hot second, he considered waiting in a nearby bathroom to pass the time, pretending to get to their meeting place just in time. But then he reminded himself that he wasn’t a petty teenager anymore, and even if Potter found it pathetic, Ron didn’t expect a repeat of tonight, anyway.

He decided to just treat this like a meet-up with Dean and Seamus every other Thursday after work. Just two guys, enjoying a couple of pints together, talking about Quidditch. Nothing special. Nothing to freak out over.

The atrium was busy as ever but he spotted Potter right away when the Head-Auror stepped out of the lift and made his way towards the fireplaces. He still wore his magenta work robes and Ron couldn't help but notice how sexy they looked on him.

“Hi!” Potter greeted Ron, smiling somewhat shyly. “Ready for some beer and Quidditch?”

“Sure! But I forgot to introduce myself earlier, so I figured I'd do that now,” Ron said, giving the dark haired man a smile in return, as he offered his hand for a proper introduction. “I'm Ron. Ron Weasley.”

“I'm Harry.”

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

“No way! How did he get out of there?”

Harry barked out a laugh at Ron's tale of a night out with Seamus and Dean. His outburst was loud enough for the other guests of the pub to look in their direction. Ron found it amusing how a simple change into Muggle clothes, different glasses, and a slightly lighter hair colour resulted in no one recognizing the Boy-Who-Lived.

“Since it was a Muggle police station, Seamus had to spend the night there. Statute of Secrecy, and all. We picked him up the next morning and filled him in on what he'd done the night before, including showing everyone his pale arse.” Ron grinned deviously at the memory. “I invented some things for good measure. Unfortunately, Dean is too good for this world and told him a few hours later that I was taking the mickey.”

Harry shook his head, chuckling. “That reminds me of Remus searching the whole of London for Sirius, only to find him several hours later in a hidden spot on the roof. He was gazing at the stars and totally stoned. Combined with Firewhiskey, he didn't remember a single thing from that night.”

“Sirius?” Ron looked quite interested at the mention of his Godfather’s name. “Sirius, as in Sirius Black?”

“Yes. He was my Dad’s best friend. And he's my Godfather.”

“I'm just asking because I'm related to the Blacks. My grandfather married Cedrella Black.”

“Yes, I recognize the name. Her face got blasted off the family tree,” Harry said, and at Ron's raised eyebrow quickly added, “Sirius’ mother blasted everyone off that tree who didn't uphold the Black family's motto ‘Toujours pur’. So, Cedrella must have gone against the high and mighty Black Pureblood tradition.”

“Well,” Ron said, taking a swig of his beer, “she married a Weasley. I'm sure that alone was reason enough to disown her. The Weasleys have been notorious blood traitors since forever.”

“Sounds like your grandmother had good taste in men if you ask me.”

Harry winked at Ron, and the redhead felt the burning blush creeping up his neck.

Ron was once again amazed at how little time it had taken him to lose his nervousness. But Harry Potter made it very easy for him. Harry was confident, yet humble and polite. His humor didn't have Ron's sarcastic edge, but the redhead found Harry delightfully witty with a good amount of sass.

Ron didn't know what he expected but it was undeniable how easy it was to talk to Harry. He could only hope the raven-haired man enjoyed this just as much as he did. Harry laughed at his jokes and seemed genuinely interested in Ron's more-than-mundane life.

As much as Ron tried to see this as a meeting with a good friend, he couldn't help the warm feeling in his chest every time Harry smiled at him or his leg accidentally bumped against Ron's. And if the alcohol hadn't gone to his head already, making him imagine things, Harry's eyes kept flitting down to Ron's lips.

When the woman behind the bar announced the final round, they decided to call it a night since it was one of Harry's work Saturdays tomorrow.

As they ventured out of the crowded pub and into the cool night air, Ron was disappointed about the evening coming to an end. Time had flown and he was sure they could've talked for several more hours.

“Would you mind if I walk you home?” Harry asked just as Ron wanted to wish him a good night.

Ron nodded, not being able to suppress his smile as Harry obviously remembered him mentioning that he only lived a few blocks away.

They kept their pace slow and walked a little closer to each other than necessary, their hands bumping against one another. Every touch sent a jolt through Ron's body and he wanted nothing more than to take Harry's hand.

Eventually, they reached their destination. During the entire walk home Ron had gathered all of his Gryffindor courage to ask Harry out, this time for an official date.

“I- um,” Ron started, rubbing one hand against the back of his neck to ease his nerves. “I really enjoyed this evening and I was wondering...Maybe I got this all wrong, but you seem interested, and well, I'm interested too. And if you're not, that's totally fine. But...caniseeyouagain?”

And before Ron's face had the time to go completely crimson, he got his answer as Harry took his hand to pull him close, leaned up and kissed him.

Harry pulled back from Ron's lips, his stunning, green eyes slightly darker than usual and holding a hopeful glint.

Ron didn't give himself the chance to overthink as he put his hand on the back of Harry's neck and kissed him again. A deep groan escaped him when Harry licked at Ron's bottom lip and Harry took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside.

Ron was positive that he'd never experienced something more incredible than kissing Harry Potter. The only things he was capable of paying attention to were Harry and the wild thumping of his heart. And while it was exhilarating and new and positively made him weak in the knees, it also felt a lot like coming home.

Having lost all sense of time, Ron couldn't tell if they'd kissed for a minute or several hours when they broke apart. Harry's hands still gripped his shirt and Ron let his own hands glide from Harry's dark hair down over strong, well-defined shoulders to finally rest at his hips.

Both of them tried to catch their breath and Harry, who finally let go of Ron's shirt to put his arms around him, smiled up at Ron almost shyly.

“Yes, you can see me again,” Harry said, grinning.”What are your plans for tomorrow night?”

“Well,” Ron pretended to think about it for a second, “I thought I'd do this.”

And with that, he leaned in to kiss Harry again.

“I think that's a brilliant idea.”

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

Just as he turned off the radio and grabbed his coat from the rag beside the door, a loud knock sounded through Harry's now quiet flat.

“Ten minutes early. Eager, aren't we?” Harry said as he opened the door for a tall ginger with a picnic basket in one hand and a broom in the other.

“Says the one waiting right beside the door like a good dog.”

Ron shoved his way inside, putting down the basket and broom before pulling Harry into his arms.

“Happy Birthday,” Ron murmured against the other man's lips. “And I thought I was supposed to give you a present, not the other way around?”

Harry pulled back a little, apparently confused. Ron grinned at him and squeezed Harry's arse. “Thanks for wearing my favourite pants today.”

Chuckling, Harry pointed at the broom Ron had brought with him. “No way I'll fly on a broom in these. Good thing I also packed my joggers.”

Ron hadn't told him where they were going for Harry's Birthday. He'd just instructed Harry to be ready at 9 in the morning, so they'd be back in time for dinner at Grimmauld Place with Harry's family.

Only two months had passed since their first kiss, but Harry already felt as though he'd known Ron for much longer. Every kiss, every touch, all the teasing and banter, and late night talks felt so completely natural, yet blissfully exciting.

“Come on, grab your broom. We're on a tight schedule.”

Ron winked at him and before Harry knew it, they were standing in the middle of a giant Quidditch pitch.

There wasn't a single soul besides them, but Harry immediately recognized the giant Hogwarts House banners from his family's keepsakes of their school years. Aside from that fateful day when he'd fought Voldemort on those grounds, he'd never visited the school. Not before, not after.

Harry tried to swallow down the lump in his throat. The surprise must be the result of one of their late night talks, when Harry confessed that his deepest desire while growing up had been to go to Hogwarts.

“Are we allowed to be here or do I need to arrest you for breaking into school grounds?”

Arms wrapped around him from behind and Harry could feel Ron smiling against the back of his head. “I wouldn't be opposed to playing the big bad Auror and the naughty Suspect later, but this is actually 100% legal. Having contacts with important Quidditch officials has its perks sometimes. And my annual chess game against McGonagall helped too, I suppose.”

“Okay then,” Harry said, lifting one of Ron's hands to his mouth to brush his lips against his knuckles. “Fill me in on that plan of yours.”

Ron let go of him and reached for their brooms, tossing one of them at Harry. “I thought we'd fly over the grounds first, so I can show you everything from above. The castle looks fucking amazing from up there and the Great Lake is a sight to die for when the water reflects the sun.”

Ron mounted his broom and flew in slow circles around Harry as he continued to talk. “I hope you don't mind that I invited your family for dinner. But I thought we could all show you the castle, introduce you to our favourite spots and secret places. Andromeda can show us the Slytherin common room. I've never been there myself. I'll show you the kitchen first. That's where I'll cook dinner later while the others show you around.”

Jumping down from his broom, Ron looked at Harry with a mixture of excitement and reluctance as he rubbed the back of his neck. It was a telltale sign of the redhead being nervous, Harry had learned in the last weeks.

“So, I thought this to be fitting for a 30th Birthday. I wasn't sure what to get you that you don't already have, and I reckoned this might be fun.”

Harry didn't know what to say and his silence only made Ron doubt his plan more. It always baffled Harry how Ron didn't realize how wonderful he was. He wished Ron could see himself through Harry's eyes.

Right at that moment, as Harry looked into Ron's blue eyes, it hit him. In fact, he knew he'd been harbouring these feelings inside him for weeks now, but only now he could see it with shining clarity.

He was falling in love.

The feeling was new, something he'd never experienced, but still he recognized it for what it was.

 Love.

***

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors BE GONE

Trigger Warnings: None in this chapter.

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 1/16 (all chapters)

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto the stranger’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against your lover in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. Your lover sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

How on earth had you gotten yourself into this situation?

━

Whenever you looked back over the course of your life, one detail stood out far more prominently than the others.

You were a good girl.

You had never broken the law, had always adhered to the proper dress code, had never had a filling or broken a bone. You could, and very often did, define yourself by the roads you had never dreamed of taking and the decisions you had never made.

Never was it more obvious than the day you suffered your first real heartbreak. 

You had followed the rules carefully; had dressed respectably for every date; had taken care to listen to your boyfriend’s every problem. You’d learned to cook his favorite meal; had faked more orgasms than you could count to feed his ego.

You were sure you would marry that man and had mentally mapped out your next five years. You would have a simple ceremony and a child one year later, then another two years after the first. You’d named them in your imagination and frequently lapsed into daydreams about your future perfect life.

On your fifth anniversary he took you to dinner and you could barely hide your excitement. You knew he had been keeping something from you and you were so sure he was going to propose. You put on your best dress and favourite heels and spent an hour on your makeup and hair. This night was going to be perfect and your stomach fluttered as he reached for your hands across the table.

“(Name),” he said, squeezing your hands in his, “I’ve been thinking about our future.”

“Me too,” you said, squeezing back, willing yourself to hold it together. You wanted this moment to be so perfect and romantic that you would repeat it over and over to your future children and grandchildren. “I’m so happy we’re on the same page.”

“It’s been on my mind for a long time,” he said, smiling softly. “I’ve enjoyed all of our time together, but I think we need to move forwards.”

All you could think about was your future children; the length of their eyelashes and warmth of their hugs. You could almost smell the flowers in your wedding bouquet.

“I just...I think we’ve had a lot of fun together,” he said, “but I’m scared that if we stay like this we’ll fall into a rut. I don’t want to be married with a bunch of kids before I’m forty.”

And just like that, your stomach fell through the floor.

“Wait, w-what are you talking about?”

You snatched your hands from his, heart racing. Was this some sort of joke? You had shopped together for a new mattress only two days before. You glanced around the restaurant, looking for cameras or any sign that this was staged. If it was a prank, it was cruel.

“(Name), it’s not that I don’t love you, it’s just that, well… you’re like...how do I put this…”

He scratched his chin, searching for the right thing to say, even as your eyes filled with tears.

“You’re vanilla,” he said, “you’re safe, and sweet… but we’re still young and I keep thinking that I might want to try habanero or cayenne.”

“You think I’m...boring?” the words left your lips as a whisper and, while his reaction was to instantly reach out to you and apologise, the damage was already done.

“I can be habanero,” you said before you realised it. “I can be whatever you want me to be.”

“I know,” he said, “and that’s the problem.”

━

That night you stood in your shower for almost three quarters of an hour, staring into space as the water soaked you through. 

His words circled your brain like vultures. 

Vanilla. 

He thought you were vanilla. Perhaps the worst part was that you could not disagree.

It haunted your every action for the following week. All you saw when you got ready for work was your simple wardrobe and comfortable shoes. 

You were a good girl, mild mannered and meek, and everyone seemed to have noticed before you.

Shock made way for despair. Despair turned to denial and denial quickly turned to anger. You hated your ex boyfriend almost as much as you hated yourself, scouring your apartment for everything he had ever touched.

It didn’t take long for your friends to get worried about you. Normally you were all too busy to constantly check in on the group chat you shared, but since the breakup everyone had something to say.

However kind they might have been to spare your feelings, they genuinely did seem surprised that you had broken up. You had been a couple since your college graduation and one of the only constants in the past few years as everyone’s lives took different directions. 

As was to be expected, your friends had multiple different opinions on suitable coping mechanisms. Yuiko came over with food; Hana brought wine. Sayaka called you every evening to trash talk your ex.

Then there was Rei. 

Rei was the most boisterous member of your friend group, full to the brim with the kind of self confidence that was obnoxious on other people, yet suited her perfectly. Her reaction to the breakup was not to hand you tissues. She posted exactly one message to the group chat and it had haunted you ever since.

To get over one dude… you gotta get under another ;)

You had known Rei for years and never once taken her advice, but something about that statement stuck with you. You would never have come up with such an idea on your own and it left you blushing a bright scarlet. Rebound sex was not something girls like you did, which was exactly why you had to do it.

“I’ll show you vanilla,” you muttered as you put on another layer of red lipstick and pulled your dress just a little lower to tease the lace of your bra.

━

You met up with your friends at Ego , a nightclub you had heard a great deal about, though never actually gone to. You had never had any reason to; you already had a long term partner and didn’t enjoy the idea of dancing in full view of strange men. 

You wondered if you’d made a mistake even as you took a seat at one of the tables. 

“Any lookers?”

You glanced around the room, trying to make out faces in the darkness.

“I…” you said. “I…”

You swallowed hard, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

“I’ll get the next round!”

You thought that by going to fetch another round of drinks, you would be able to catch your breath and avoid drawing copious amounts of attention to yourself. You’d never spent much time at nightclubs, though, and realised your mistake once you got within twenty feet of the bar. 

Dozens of people in various states of intoxication crowded it, packed like sardines and all trying to get the attention of the bartender. You took a deep breath and took a step into the crowd, only for someone closer to the front to move and send a wave of movement through everyone else. Someone’s shoulder caught you in the chest, leaving you even further back than you had been before. 

Normally you were too polite to even contemplate shoving your way through a crowd, but tonight you weren’t yourself. You took a deep breath and put your weight into your shoulders, pushing against the others as forcefully as you could without actually hurting anyone.

At first you seemed to be making progress, though you soon regretted your decisions. As you got within a few paces of the bar, a guy in front of you slipped, the numerous drinks in his hands heading for your face.

Before they could make contact, however, someone reached for your wrist and yanked you towards the bar,  out of the line of fire. The drinks hit other partygoers and they cried out in shock; the glasses shattered as they hit the floor. You, however, remained untouched.

“Th-thank you,” you stammered, turning to your saviour. 

He was tall and lanky, with black hair tied back from his face in a ponytail. He wore a black shirt, black pants, black shoes- a complete contrast to the Blue Hawaiian in his hand.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, looking away from you and taking an indifferent sip of his drink.

The bartender was in the middle of clearing the shattered glass from the floor and so you waited in an awkward sort of silence, finally turning back to the man who had saved you.

“You look as happy to be here as I am,” you said. He looked the type to sit in shady bars with three fingers of whisky, not dance with inebriated strangers, which Ego was better known for.

“Wasn’t my decision,” he said. “Someone’s gotta babysit.”

He pointed towards the dancefloor, where a small group of people danced along to the beat. You couldn’t make out most of their faces, except for one, and you were sure your eyes were deceiving you.

“Is that...Present Mic?”

The stranger followed your gaze, to the man with more than a passing resemblance, who was currently wiggling his hips in time to the beat.

“Him? Nah. I don’t know him.”

“But he’s waving to you,” you said, as the man who looked like Present Mic waved his arms over his head and shouted something in your general direction. You couldn’t hear him over the music and the stranger next to you pointedly turned in the opposite direction, taking a long sip of his drink.

You had been so nervous about approaching strangers. Rei had made it seem so easy- merging into a group and catching someone’s eye. You had always had a boyfriend and never possessed the easy confidence of your friends. It was strangely reassuring that speaking to this man came almost naturally.

“My name’s (Name),” you said. “Listen, you really saved me there...this dress is hand wash only.”

“Shouta,” said the stranger. “My name is Shouta.”

“C-can I get you a drink or something? I really owe you one.”

You realised after saying it that he wasn’t even halfway through the drink in his hand.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said. “It wasn’t anything special.”

He picked the pineapple from his drink and chewed at it thoughtfully.

“Listen,” he said, “I don’t like playing games. What is it you want?”

You were tongue tied, mortified at being caught out so quickly. You fought to keep your composure.

Under ordinary circumstances, you would have stammered some sort of apology or explanation, but tonight you weren’t you and there was no point in denying that you had an ulterior motive.

“Fine,” you said, gathering your nerves. “Do you want to go somewhere more...private?”

You cringed the moment it left your lips, suddenly all too aware of how forward you were being. You couldn’t believe you’d all but thrown yourself at the first guy you saw. What was wrong with you?

He climbed down off the stool he had been sitting on, taking one final sip of his drink.

“Let’s go.”

━

And so it was that you wound up in the nightclub washroom, back against the door and Shouta’s lips on yours.

You had half-heartedly discussed with your friends what to do on the off chance you found someone. You were to post to the group chat with a photograph of you and whoever you left with. You hadn’t expected to leave with anyone, much less decided on where you would go if you did.

You would never have guessed that you would wind up in a washroom, with the door sealed shut behind you. Shouta crushed his lips against yours, one hand pressed against the door, the other on your waist.

Your heart raced, heat rushing through you and pooling in your core.

“Say,” said Shouta, lowering his hand and running a thumb over your lips, “you sure you want this? Right here, right now?”

You moved before you realised what you were doing, opening your mouth and running your tongue over his thumb, looking him dead in the eyes as you wrapped your lips around it.

He hadn’t expected it, but seemed to approve, for he smiled, pulling away and dragging you into another crushing kiss. One hand he positioned above your head; the other grabbed at your clothes, pulling down your dress to expose your bra before heading south.

He lifted your skirt, slipping his fingers into your underwear. You gasped as you felt his hand against your folds, planting your own hand against the door to brace yourself. He caught your eye, tracing a finger around your clit before slowly sinking it deep into you. You reached for his shoulders, hooking one leg around his waist and pushing your lips against his. You pulled him tighter and tighter as he pushed his finger in and out of you, dragging at his shirt and belt. 

He squeezed in a second finger and you bucked your hips into his touches.

As if in response, he pulled his fingers out of you and ran them over your clit- the warmth and wetness sending pleasurable shivers down your spine. You had never felt this way before; this man was as good as a stranger, yet you wanted him so very badly. You had never felt this kind of desire before, never known how it felt to have such a growing pressure inside of you. 

“Please,” you moaned into his mouth, not knowing exactly what you were begging him for. “Please—-"

“Come here,” Shouta growled, pulling you towards him and then across to the sink. You caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror, unkempt and wide eyed- a complete transformation from when you stepped out of the house.

You watched through the mirror as Shouta unfastened his belt and fly, lowering his pants low enough to give you a clear view of his hardened dick. He was far more muscular than his skinny physique let on, with a deep scar beneath his belly button. 

You were trembling from need, squeezing your legs together to try and fill the void his fingers had left. He smirked and walked towards you, taking hold of your hips and slowly, almost torturously slowly, pushing himself into you. 

He was bigger than you expected and you gasped at the feel of yourself stretching to accommodate him. He stopped in place, waiting for you to push back against him before pushing in further. At first his pace was slow, inching in only a little at a time, teasing an increasingly sensitive spot deep inside of you. 

“Faster,” you whined, digging your nails into your palms at the pressure inside of you. It was overwhelming your every sense, a coil winding tighter and tighter with every touch. “Please...please…”

He slapped your ass and drove in deeper.

This new pace was faster, his hips slamming into yours with such force that it sent you barreling forwards across the sink. You clung on for dear life, taking in the wet sounds as your bodies clashed; Shouta’s groans of pleasure and exertion.

“Oh my g-“ You whined, tightening your grip on the sink. “Harder, I’m gonna…”

You caught your reflection in the bathroom mirror as you came undone; took in your smudged makeup and disheveled hair.

Pleasure rippled through you and you moaned into it, pushing yourself back onto Shouta’s dick and taking as much of him in as humanly possible. You could feel every inch of him and he groaned at the feel of you tightening around him.

“Oh f-“ You murmured, holding onto the sink and grinding yourself against him in time to the spasms of your body.

You were so overwhelmed by the sensation that you lost all coherency, body acting of its own accord. He sucked in a single breath as he continued to fuck you and you could do little else but stare at your shoes.

You were doing this.

You were doing him . In a bathroom, no less.

He gathered your hair with one hand and pulled backwards, arching your back as he fucked you even harder. He was getting close and you could tell; his thrusts were getting erratic and the hand that squeezed your hip was so tight that it left bruises later.

“(Name),” he said, raspiness of his voice betraying his desperation, “where would you like me to...cum”

He groaned and you blushed a bright red.

“In...inside me,” you murmured, the depravity of it all too clear. This was a man you didn’t know; you were risking pregnancy and worse.

In that moment, though, it only added to the appeal.

Shouta pulled you even closer, slowing right down to an almost painfully slow rhythm. He held you in place as he came and gasped for air; the heat of his breath leaving goosebumps against your skin.

You could feel him twitching inside of you, his warmth dripping from you as he pulled out. 

You took a deep breath and stood up straight, Shouta letting go of you to pull up his pants. He rinsed his hands under the tap and splashed cold water on his face before grabbing a pile of paper towels.

“I’ll guard the door,” he said, motioning towards the same door he had pinned you against only a short time ago. “Knock when you’re ready.”

“Oh,” you said, watching him leave, “okay.”

For the first time all night, you were alone, the nightclub music in the background your only clue to your surroundings.

You walked towards the sink and took in your bedraggled appearance-bra on full display and cum on your thighs.

You couldn’t believe you were thinking it, but Rei was right. For the first time in weeks you weren’t thinking about the ex. For the first time in years you weren’t thinking about anything.

Habanero, you thought as you switched on the tap. 

This was how it felt to be habanero.

━

6 Months Later

You were still a good girl. 

That said, you no longer followed the safe roads. Not so long ago, you believed that your breakup was the end of everything, but it had actually been a new beginning.

Two months after the night at Ego , you cut your hair and quit your job. You had been there since graduation and your colleagues were more than a little desperate for you to stay. You had taken on the workload of about seven of eight people while earning only a pittance for a salary.

You had a new job now; something fresh and exciting and challenging to boot. It made you nervous, but that feeling only spurred you on.

You’d never been to UA before and it was much bigger in person. You could already tell you were going to get lost and found yourself grateful that the Principal had taken it upon himself to show you around.

“These are the first year homerooms,” he said, pointing out the doors on your left and right. “1-A and 1-B. I hope you pardon my presumptuousness, but I thought it might be useful to have you shadow one of our homeroom teachers for a couple of hours...get a feel for our curriculum and the kinds of students you’ll be working with.”

“That would be wonderful,” you said, eager to take notes.

“Wait here,” said Principal Nezu, “I’ll be right back.”

He knocked on one of the doors and stepped inside, presumably to fetch the teacher.

When he returned, it took everything in your power to stop your jaw from hitting the floor.

It was him, and he was just as shocked to see you.

“Professor Aizawa,” said Principal Nezu, “this is (Name), our new guidance counsellor.”

He glanced from you to Shouta, taking in your identical expressions.

“Oh… do you know one another?”

[96dys]

hydrangea ; johnny seo

money makes the world turn. there was so much of it, and yet so few people ever saw it. maybe if it weren’t for the money, johnny might have acted differently. maybe his family’s badgering wouldn’t have weighed on him as much as it did. maybe he wouldn’t have taken you, because finding a wife this way wouldn’t have mattered. he didn’t like the circumstance, but he couldn’t keep himself from liking you—the dirt-poor girl who worried more about helping others than feeding herself.

ceo au

taglist: @tyongpoetry @xianxian95 @aaaaalex05

masterlist

02 | little prince

eating breakfast alone wasn't something that was very new to you, though it wasn't often that you were able to eat breakfast, let alone something this size. your stomach had begun to ache just looking at the size of the plate in front of you, but your eyes lit up in awe of the colorful array of fruits. of course, they were accompanied by an alarming amount of vitamins and supplements, just as you'd been asked to take the previous day. a glass of water was provided to help you wash it all down, which you gladly sipped on between bites.

for the sake of getting out of your bedroom, you'd asked to have your meal in the common area, though you did your best to keep yourself just as isolated. you sat with your legs crossed in front of the coffee table, mindful of the way the skirt of your pale pink dress fell upon your lap. despite being alone, you couldn't help but feel as though you were being watched at all times. the door was open but a crack, just enough for you to see staff members pass through the narrow hallway. the curtains had been pulled open, allowing the bright sunshine to wash over your figure. a peaceful silence filled the air, something you were especially fond of. jisung was very kind, but you weren't sure you'd be able to handle any more of his mindless chatter after this morning.

of course, he had offered to keep you company while you dined, but you were very quick to decline. as hard as you tried, you were unable to hide your haste, for he had just spent almost an hour talking your ear off about the most random details of the wedding to come in just two days. it had gotten to the point where you stopped trying to decide which information was important and what was not in favor of blocking it all out entirely. even as you stood under the warm stream of water flowing from the showerhead above, you could hear him muttering things to himself as he tidied up your bedroom. you most imagined this behavior was due to growing up without the presence of others his age--if anyone at all. while you did feel sympathetic toward the boy, you weren't used to the constant noise.

your previous life was fairly quiet, even at the tiny, makeshift school where you had spent all of your free time. there was always the odd occasion where a child or two would be exceptionally talkative, though most of the time the children were too malnourished to have the energy. it was a struggle to get the group to participate much at all, let alone speak amongst themselves. you tried your best to encourage your pupils to make friends with one another, but this wasn't something that was accepted with open arms. you couldn't even find it in yourself to be upset at them for this, given that your brother had been your only friend growing up; it was this way for most people you knew.

after a long day at the school, you would go home to an empty home. it was tiny and everything seemed to be falling apart, but it gave you a private space to unwind as much as you possibly could. you never cared to invite anyone over, nor did you have anyone to visit. it was lonely at first, but after a while the silence became very calming. perhaps this was because it was the only constant in your life; the only thing that would be waiting for you at home without fail. a meal was not always promised, nor was a new book to read, but there would always be a heavy silence ready to envelope you as you drifted off each night.

looking down at your plate, you noticed that it was nearly empty. oh how you wished your brother was there to fight you over what remained, like he used to when he was too young to understand how little your family truly had to go around. unless you finished your food with incredible speed, he would begin whining about how hungry he was, about how you needed to share with him. you would always shoot him a glare and questioned why he deserved to eat more than you did, which would only result in the little boy pinching the tender skin around your ankles. as you cried out in pain, he would quickly grab at the food resting atop your lap., smiling to himself as he bit into your food. this wasn't something you ever imagined yourself missing, although the change in circumstance caused the memory to become very fond.

after having your entire life uprooted against your will, you've found that many of the things you used to find so unpleasant have been on your mind. this was especially conflicting, as none of these were things you had to deal with within recent years. it almost made you sad to realize that there was nothing to your life that was worth missing; everything you cared for had been ripped from your fingers the moment all of your family members were gone. you longed not for the days you spent as an adult, but the miserable nights you spent as a child begging your father to stop yelling at you over whichever minor inconvenience had stressed him out that time.

perhaps the anger you felt toward your current situation was purely out of spite, though this only caused your heart to sink a little further down into your chest. was your life of so little meaning that you couldn't find a good reason to continue to be hateful? did you have so little back home that this new setting seemed only a little less than pleasant? the change was beyond unfair, yet you could only sigh knowing that you were likely better off here anyway. you wanted to do more--to lash out in anger, fear, or something--but you just couldn't.

a light knock floated through the air, causing you to dart your head toward the door. it had been pushed open, allowing johnny to lean against the frame. he was smiling down at you, like he was genuinely happy to see you a second time. your eyes widened ever so slightly, just enough to make him chuckle. you had been doubting his promise to make time for you everyday, so his presence came as a bit of a surprise. in all honesty, you figured that work would come first, making you an afterthought for him to tend to at the end of the day, but he was as early as he possibly could be without having interrupted your meal. it was as though he couldn't wait.

"i'm really glad to see that you've eaten," he spoke happily, glancing at your plate for a moment before returning his gaze toward your face. he could tell that you'd taken all of your vitamins as well, which made his smile widen just a bit. a wave of joy washed over him momentarily, knowing that you felt comfortable enough to do so without any resistance. he made a mental note to send someone to clean up the remains of your meal, though it wasn't like you had left much of a mess at all. "we don't have to leave now, but i'm ready whenever you are. i don't mind waiting in here for a little while if that's what you want to do."

you set your fork down on the edge of your plate and shook your head. there was nothing left for you to do here and therefore no reason to stay. standing up was a very slow process, as you had to be very cautious in your dress, but it felt nice to stretch your legs once you were able to do so. it was no surprise that you were fatigued already, but you hoped it wasn't very obvious to the man in front of you. he seemed unfazed, so you assumed he was unable to tell.

"please tell me there's less walking this time," you muttered, mostly to yourself.

johnny laughed in response as he took a step to the side, allowing you to pass through the doorway. it wasn't hard to fall in time with your lazy footsteps, yet continuing to keep your pace posed a bit of a challenge for someone with such long legs. he did his best, though he wound up a few steps ahead within a minute flat.

he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a white plastic card. he waved it around for a moment before returning it to its spot, smirking down at you.

"it's your lucky day; being with me means you get to use the elevator and not the stairs."

an elevator. you were unable to form a proper response. of course, you'd read about such a thing in a few of your old books, though you had yet to use one yourself. it wasn't very often you ever entered a building with two stories, let alone enough to warrant the installation of an elevator. you wondered why the little card was relevant, only to conclude a few moments later that it must be some sort of a key. then, you wondered why it would be restricted. if you were able to use the stairs without issue, what was the purpose of deeming the elevator off limits? if they accomplished the same thing, you would get to your intended destination regardless. maybe he felt that blocking off the stairs wasn't needed, given the likeliness of you getting lost before making it anywhere important.

for a brief minute or so, you found yourself feeling less than adequate. it wasn't that you felt an overwhelming need to impress anyone here, but it was quickly becoming evident that you truly knew so much less than he did. the rational part of your brain knew that there was no one to blame for this, and yet you couldn't help but think that you should've taken it upon yourself to learn more. just knowing how to read as fluently as you did was a feat in and of itself, but the accomplishment seemed meaningless in comparison to all the things you did not know. you didn't even want to think about how poor your math skills had to be next to his.

much to your surprise, it didn't take very long to reach the elevator either. you both stopped in front of two metal doors, causing you to stare curiously as he swiped the little card. you bit back a gasp as they pulled apart. when you were rushed down to the garden yesterday, you had assumed that these doors were different solely for decoration. remembering that johnny works in technology, you didn't feel that it would be very off to assume that he would have more of a futuristic sense of style. stepping into the little room though, you realized that this made much more sense.

each wall was mirrored, causing you to become lost in your reflection as the doors came to a close. you could see johnny press a button on the large panel to his right, though you failed to focus your attention on the action itself. you didn't bother to wrack your brain trying to figure out how the elevator began to move on its own just a few seconds later, as you were so entranced by the couple that stood before you. you were already well aware of the height difference, since it was so hard to ignore during a conversation with the man, but it was so much more interesting to see the both of you side by side. he looked like a giant standing next to your small frame.

his eyes met yours through the mirror, causing you to quickly look away. he only smiled at your response, waiting but a second more for the elevator to come to a stop at the correct floor. as the large doors slid open, he gestured for you to step out first. he wasn't worried about there being any trouble finding the library, as it was located directly across the hall. this in mind, he allowed you to lead the way, which you seemed more than happy to do.

he thought it was cute how your steps became so much lighter once the open doorway was in sight, how your eyes seemed to light up upon entering the large room. he watched as you stopped a few steps into the library, examining your features as you looked around. while he had been expecting a positive response, you surely didn't disappoint. your jaw was nearly on the floor as eyes the size of saucers scanned the maze of bookshelves.

just past the entrance was an area that resembled the common area; a large sofa sat opposite the door, which was paralleled by a coffee table of equal length. there was a chair positioned on either side, though the fourth side was left open. the furniture sat atop a beautiful floral rug, which distracted from the dull navy carpeting the rest of the room had been floored with. there were rows upon rows of shelves on the three sides in question, rows that seemed to go on for miles.

"a's start just to the right over there, i think," his voice rung in your ear, snapping you out of the book-induced trance you'd fallen into. he pointed in the general direction you needed to go, which was all the permission you needed to begin walking. you were too excited to respond, so you simply allowed him to follow your fast paced footsteps as you began searching for the book you wished to read.

you'd never seen so many books in your life, let alone all at once. your heart did jumping jacks in your chest at the realization that you could never possibly be bored here. maybe every storm cloud does have a silver lining. no matter how unhappy you might become in the future, you were certain that you would never run out of books to take your mind away from the world. you couldn't wait to get lost in each and every one.

"are you looking for anything specific?"

you could easily make out the curiosity woven into every word. his fancy shoes made a dull click clack noise against the thin carpet, the sound trailing behind you. it didn't sound like he was making an effort to match your swift pace, but then again, he didn't have to. his legs were so long, you knew he could easily match your fastest sprint with a brisk walk if he ever decided to try.

"no."

yes.

once you finally reached the aisle you were looking for, your eyes lit up. the section marked 's' was very large, but you were quick to find what you were looking for. given the letter combination, saint-exupéry happened to be toward the beginning of the section. however, it was out of your reach. even standing on the very tips of your toes, every book on the top shelf was just out of reach. sighing to yourself, you fell back on your heels.

"which one?" johnny asked, causing you to quickly turn your head.

you had been so lost in thought that the sound of his voice startled you, but his close proximity was even more surprising. there was maybe two inches between the both of you. his steady breaths felt warm against your neck even after you turned away. flustered, it took you a moment to respond. regardless of your feelings toward him, no man had ever been so close to you before; you weren't sure how to react.

"uh, it's on the top right there—the little prince," you answered finally. your voice came out a soft mumble.

he reached over your head and easily pulled your book away from the others. you assumed this was why he'd gotten so close, and you were correct. the moment he passed the book on to you was the moment he took two steps back. regardless, this did nothing to stifle the heat burning in your cheeks.

in an attempt to ignore it, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the lounge. he walked beside you now, most likely because he had a very good idea of where you were going. there was no reason to follow you around like a lost puppy otherwise.

"why that book?" he wondered aloud.

there was a part of his brain that worried that the question was a bit too personal, but he couldn't help himself. after watching you move through the library at such a fast pace, he had to ask. you were nearly jogging; that book had to be extremely significant to you for one reason or another. glancing down at you, he noticed that you couldn't take you eyes off of the cover.

"um..."

you allowed the sentence to fizzle out, unsure of how to begin, or if you even wanted to at all. having been pulled away from your past life, you hadn't decided whether you wanted to talk about it with anyone. you didn't have much of a story to tell, yet it still felt like something you should lock away entirely. though you didn't truly understand why, you dreaded the thought of letting anyone here get to know you. whether this was because they were undeserving or because acknowledging your past life made this one real, you didn't know.

weaving through the seemingly endless aisles, you allowed you gaze to fall upon the book again.

your brother was a bright young boy, almost too smart for his own good. he never tried to be a troublemaker—not the kind you felt the need to raise your guard around anyway—but he would risk anything to stimulate his mind. if he didn't have a book to stick his head into or a math subject to teach himself he fell into a painful state of boredom. he couldn't stand being bored; you remembered him declaring once before that not doing anything productive made him feel like his brain was rotting from the inside out.

"it's only a matter of time before it starts dripping out of my ears," he used to say.

to this day, you were able to recall in great detail the first time he got himself into trouble with your parents. he managed to drag you down with him without even trying to; your parents found you guilty before you even opened your mouth. all over a stupid book.

"it's not like he can even read it!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air.

while his intellect surpassed even the adults in your life, his age was really showing. just like any thirteen year old boy, he felt that your parents were just overreacting; that what he'd done surely didn't warrant this kind of response. after all, it wasn't like he'd truly hurt anyone. even if he really did want to, you knew he didn't have it in him. much like yours, his attacks were never physical, only verbal.

to an extent, you agreed with him. the law wasn't really enforced unless you had the money to make people care about your problems, so you doubted he would get into any real trouble. the most that could happen outside of the home would be some kind of beating from the people he'd stolen from, but you doubted they would even notice its absence. however, watching this situation unfold had begun to give you a headache and for that reason alone you felt he deserved to be punished. "you still stole it," your father shot back.

he stood his ground, arms crossed over his chest. your father was a short man, but he still managed to make himself look intimidating when he saw fit. his actions helped greatly; he had the tendency to raise his voice when things didn't go his way, or allow his eyes to narrow into a glare that would tear through anyone in his path. sometimes you hated him for being this way, but deep down you knew it wasn't his fault. working such long days with almost nothing in return was enough to drive any man crazy.

your mother though... you looked to your mother and saw nothing but disappointment painted across her face as she held the book in her hands. you frowned. for the first time in a very long time, you witnessed her express something other than exhaustion. she was so kind and caring, but she was empty. everyday was a constant fight to keep her family afloat through high tides and thunderstorms, but over the years the tiny raft she'd woven for those she loved most broke apart piece by piece. everyday you watched a tiny piece of her float far far away right along with it.

"how could you let this happen?"

you quickly averted your attention toward your father, your eyes widening as a wave of shock wracked your body. he glared down at you, but you didn't really understand why; you hadn't done anything wrong. and so you said nothing. instead, you nervously pulled at the hem of your shirt, wishing this would all go away. but this wasn't good enough. when you failed to respond, he only rose his voice even more. he pointed his finger at you accusingly, like you'd gone out and committed the crime yourself.

"you were supposed to be watching him! it's not like you have anything else to do. you don't work, can't go to school—what could you possibly have been doing that was more important than making sure your brother stayed safe at home?"

it was then that you began to cry. tears flowed down your cheeks in rivers as you tried so hard not to start hyperventilating. you never took criticism well—not when it was far from constructive. it felt like he had lunged at your throat and your windpipe was beginning to crack under the pressure. if he kept at it, you were certain you wouldn't be able to handle it at any capacity.

you refused to respond. what was the point in trying if your father wasn't even going to try to understand? how were you going to tell him that your idiot brother had managed to sneak out because you spent the day asleep on the cold, hard floor? how were you going to explain that you were so tired, that your body was so physically exhausted that there were periods of time where you were unable to stay awake during the day?

you couldn't, not when everyone else struggled just as hard as you did. you could already imagine his response, something about how he works himself to the bone and still manages to stay awake.

it was pointless.

you thought you were never going to be able to forgive your brother for that day. that night, when you were certain the rest of your family had fallen asleep, you picked the book up off of the floor where your mother had left it. it shouldn't be there; your brother shouldn't get the pleasure of reading it.

so you hid it. you remembered having to be so careful as you moved the heavy water pot, struggling to keep quiet as the lid began to gently crash into the rim. you then lifted up the broken floorboard beneath it and placed the book inside of the small opening before repositioning everything. that night, you laid next to your brother feeling content with your actions, yet no more happy overall.

for so many years, you avoided that book just as much as you did the negative memory associated with it, but after your family passed, something changed. it didn't feel like something you wanted to distance yourself from anymore, but rather something you wanted to hold close to your heart.

the first thing you did once the body collection team cleared your home was rush to the water pot. you were so hasty in trying to move it that it tipped over in the process, spilling what tiny bit of water was left all over your thighs. but holding that book in your hands, it didn't matter. there was a tiny piece of your brother you had yet to familiarize yourself with and you so desperately needed to. it felt like it was all you had left of him. for almost a month you read the book time and time again until the tears stopped; by then you had memorized the entire story word for word.

the little prince.

"someone that i used to know was really interested in it, that's all," you said finally.

you were too stuck inside your own head to notice how much time had passed, but by that point you'd reached the lounge already. the couch closest to you suddenly seemed very inviting, so much that you quickly sat down in the middle. your mind was still a bit too far away to realize what you'd done, but by that point it was too late.

johnny was left to seat himself on your right. much like before, this left very little space between the two of you. this got your attention immediately. your cheeks burned red hot as he rested his arm atop the edge of the couch behind you.

"would you mind if i read it?"

too stunned to form a proper sentence, you merely nodded and placed the book on his lap. when you took the quickest look up at him, you saw that he was smiling. it was a genuine smile, not one of those smug smirks you'd seen once or twice before. staring toward your lap now, you could see him using his free hand to quickly flip to page one.

oh. he was going to read it to you.

"you don't have to do all that," you quickly spoke up.

you did your best not to come across as rude. in reality though, you weren't sure whether or not you should've said anything at all. you had yet to decide if you were uncomfortable with someone like johnny making himself part of something so sacred, or if you were angry at yourself for letting his close proximity make you so flustered. no matter how much you tried though, you couldn't help it. it would've been this way with any boy, you told yourself, but the fact that it had to be him was so, so irritating.

the brunette scoffed lightly.

"you think i don't care enough to get to know you?" he quirked an eyebrow at you, only resulting in your gaze being averted elsewhere. a moment went by as he awaited a response that never came. "i don't want to be strangers; i want to know things about you. i think it's premature to say that things are most definitely going to be real between the two of us, but i would like to try, if you'd let me. at the very least i want to get to know you as a person. if this book is something you're into, i want to read it."

he watched as your eyes fell upon the open page. as hard as he tried, he couldn't make out the expression contorting your features. somewhere deep in his being he was hopeful you were considering what he said, though he knew not to get his hopes up. while he understood why you would do so, the idea of being wed to someone who refused to keep him any closer than arms length made him sad. while he despised it, it happened to be the normalcy and there was nothing he was able to do about it.

almost pleading with you, he quietly added, "for me? you can sleep for all i care; just entertain me for the rest of the hour, please."

very hesitantly, you nodded and allowed him to wrap his arm around your shoulders. he then pulled you close, causing your breath to catch in your throat for a moment. never before had you been held this way, nor had you witnessed your mother in such a position; this type of intimacy was something you'd only ever encountered in the few fairytales you'd been able to read in your youth.

as he began to read in that oh so soft tone, you found yourself lost in thought. the more you tried to think of an occurrence where this scenario had been normalized during your childhood, the less you were able to come up with. it would be humorous to call what you were required to have with johnny love, and yet it was likely the closest you would ever come to such a thing in your life time. marriage was more out of necessity than anything, you had come to realize--especially for women. each person was allowed to interpret societal norms however they so chose, though you felt that marriage offered women a degree of safety that living alone was unable to, while men were given sex and children in exchange. in all your years, you had yet to come across a couple that seemed to truly love one another beyond this platonic agreement.

having been a woman that had grown used to living alone, you understood the need for a man in the house. it wasn't that you were very strong on ancient gender roles, but that you had been forced to live with such extreme anxiety at all times. what few policemen there were didn't care about any crime that didn't have the potential to pad their pockets, so young women were often assaulted late at night on the lookout for whatever scraps of food they might be able to find and eat. even going out during the day made you nervous at times, depending on who was in sight. you'd even made a mental catalogue of which neighbors seemed especially sketchy and why, as you had learned not to trust anyone. living seemed to become extremely dangerous after your father passed away.

your eyes began to flutter closed as his low voice hung in your ear. being endlessly tired was not something that was new to you, for each and every day you felt as though you could sleep for hours and wake up feeling like your limbs were packed full of sand. the man beside you wasn't helping either; the steady sound of his heartbeat was the perfect backdrop to your thoughts. perhaps he noticed, though you couldn't be bothered to open your eyes in order to check. instead, you allowed him to slowly brush his palm over your head, almost as if he was petting you. it was endearing in a way, though you would never say so out loud.

counting down the days, you realized there weren't too many left until the wedding to come. jisung had brought it up earlier, but the subject matter made you uneasy, so you did your best to tune it out, just as you did the rest of his blather. normally you soak up information like a sponge, but the young boy had begun to babble about who all he thought was attending, which wasn't something you cared to know. the thought of being trapped in a room with at least half of the world's most wealthy made a knot tie itself oh so tight within your stomach. not because you felt the need to impress any of these people, but because you had spent your entire life drowning in poverty while these people had very little to worry about. your main concern was finding a way to keep from choking one of them to death on your way down the aisle.

on top of that, it sounded as if the majority of the relatives that were to be in attendance didn't like the idea of your marriage in general. jisung had recalled chatting with a young servant named yeri over lunch, who apparently dealt with all of the invitations. he relayed that she was tasked with calling each household personally, so she was able to get a feel of how they had received the news. as he ran the brush through your wild locks, he snickered and told you not to worry about johnny's family, as she told him that over half of those she spoke with sounded very irritated.

"i think it's about the money, honestly," he'd laughed. his slender fingers then wove themselves through your hair, parting it in three at the nape of your neck. "that's really weird to think about, isn't it? maybe i've just been poor for so long that money doesn't really seem like something to pine over, but i think it's kind of ridiculous when people that have more money than i'll ever know what to do with are so upset that they're not able to come into more of it.'

in a way, you thought the boy was right. while you felt that greed was almost amusing coming from those who already have a great deal of money, you understood the need to pine over it. you couldn't even count the amount of times you had gone to bed hungry, as well as had to function starving the next day. even just a few dollars would've been able to keep you fed, even if only for the smallest period of time. maybe the issue wasn't that jisung had been poor for so long, but that he had all of his needs met for such a long while. in all honesty, you understood the want to fight tooth and nail for every dollar that came your way, as much as it pained you to admit.

suddenly, you felt johnny's chest move beneath you, quickly rising and falling as a gentle chuckle escaped his lips. even still, you pretended to be asleep.

"what's wrong?" he questioned, nudging you slightly. "you're gonna give yourself wrinkles or something."

you swore under your breathe. your features relaxed then. every crease in your forehead slowly evened out, then the rest of your face fell in line too. it wasn't something that you'd done consciously, though you did understand why he would question such a thing. you weren't entirely sure what it must've looked like, but judging from his reaction, you were likely pouting like a child.

"how long until we have to get married?" you asked, peeling both of your eyes open.

"two days," he responded simply.

looking at the book in his lap, you noticed that he had gotten through a handful of pages. telling time had never been something you were very good at, but you guessed it had been at least ten or fifteen minutes since he had began. that was the beauty of being lost inside your head, you thought. you were free from the confinement of time, as it mattered very little when you had other things popping out of every little nook and cranny your brain had to offer. there was always something new to dissect and pick apart without having to worry about how much time you were wasting. it was nice, especially when wasting your time with him meant he was unable to bother you for very long.

instead of awaiting a response he knew would never come, he simply joked, "why, are you excited?"

"i'm thinking," you said, turning to look up at him.

you weren't sure if you wanted to continue. you weren't sure if you wanted to let him in, to let him know what was on your mind. there was a lot on your mind. the thought of being kept here forever with no one to talk to on a deeper level than the gossip jisung liked to bring to your vanity made you sad, though it wasn't like you were having very deep conversations with the kindergarteners you taught back home. however, the brunette's actions irritated you to no end. you were afraid that letting him in would mean to let go of what he had done, which wasn't something that you were ready to do yet. you weren't sure it would ever be something you were going to do.

the hardest part to grasp was that jisung had been right; as much as you wanted to hate the man for his means of getting you there, you would never be able to hate him for putting clothes on your body and food in your mouth. thinking back to the large breakfast you had woken up to that morning, you frowned. you tried and tried, but you couldn't be upset about that. sighing to yourself, you finally came to terms with the fact that finding comfort in another person wouldn't be so terrible, since you were unable to go anywhere else. it was a given that you would be exceptionally picky with what information you felt he was worthy of having access to, but baby steps wouldn't hurt.

however, you really did like his nervousness, at least in the sense that he knew better than to pry. he waited silently for you to continue, still absentmindedly petting the top of your head. he had been timid about such an action at first, but once he realized you weren't going to bite his hand off, he became more confident about continuing. he had a very soft smile tugging at his plump lips, though you could see the angst hiding in those chocolate brown eyes. it was as if he wasn't sure of what you were going to say, like that scared him.

truthfully, it did. johnny's biggest fear was that you would never get over any kind of resentment toward him you may have. this was a feeling he understood, and he very much understood why you would be feeling this way toward him, but he at least hoped the both of you would be able to find some kind of middle ground. he was just as fond of the arrangement as you were; maybe even more so, since he had grown up watching it play out before his eyes.

his mother never really did overcome her hatred for his father. perhaps this was because times were different when she was younger. she had the pleasure of experiencing life before the war; she knew freedom without having poverty cripple the entirety of her family. even in the midst of the violence and war, she still found a way to be happy without having to rely on money to do so. because of this, being pulled away from her parents crushed her. she wasn't like you; she didn't find comfort in a full belly, nor did she see it as a reason to excuse what had happened to her. she loved her son very much, though she never even made an attempt to hide the fact that she cared for her husband very little. in fact, johnny often suspected that she only agreed to have a child as a form of escapism. he always wondered if that was why she insisted on spending all of her free time with him, even while he was being pestered by countless tutors.

maybe it was selfish to wish for you to get over a traumatic experience in order to be happy with him, but he didn't know any other way of living. what he wanted more than anything was for you to be happy, though he didn't think this was something he would be able to communicate correctly without making a pig of himself. he understood the severity of the culture difference between the both of you and didn't want to come across as arrogant, especially because he knew that he was. he didn't intend to be, but he wasn't naïve.

"i want to hate you so badly," you admitted finally. for once, you locked eyes with him. you wanted him to see you, to know that you weren't exaggerating in order to toy with his nerves. perhaps you didn't know the first thing about talking to boys, but you knew a great deal about communicating your feelings to the emotionally ignorant. you often had conversations of this nature with you brother when he grew old enough, as you found that talking took far less energy than fighting did. the man stopped petting you then, his hand simply resting at the nape of your neck. you rolled your eyes, watching him squirm a little in his seat. "you can keep doing that thing if you want, it doesn't really bother me one way or another. even if it did, i think i could punch you in the face and you probably wouldn't do anything violent to retaliate; i probably would've done that by now."

he wanted to argue, but he knew he couldn't. you were right. even if he hated you with every fiber of his being, he could never bring himself to raise a hand to a woman. just the mere thought of what he had to do to you already made him sick to his stomach. instead, he simply began his hand motions once more.

"i want to hate you so badly," you repeated, huffing a bit. your eyes drifted off, directing your glare at whichever bookshelf you spotted first. "i've been thinking about it a lot and i don't think you have any idea how much it hurts that for the life of me i haven't been able to find a way to make you into more than just a minor annoyance. i'm irritated at the circumstances of our meeting, but the more i think about it, the less i'm able to find you terrible. you should repulse me, but really, what did i have waiting for me back home? loneliness and starvation? i try to remember that i was making something of myself by educating children that weren't able to bathe most days, let alone pick up a book on their own, but it seems a little bittersweet when the skeleton i see in the mirror is all i have to show for it. i want to hate your guts for what you did, but how can i when you've given me everything i never had?"

this time, he pulled away completely. he recognized your hurt, yet he was unsure about what to do in response. he knew that honesty was in order, but these were not the kinds of conversations he was accustomed to. johnny was taught to suppress his feelings as opposed to expressing them, as his father thought that to share one's inner feelings was a very feminine thing to do. even i love you's were assumed and not spoken. an attempt was made in explaining his point of view on your journey to his home, but even then, he had barely scratched the surface of what was buried deep in his heart.

"i'm sorry for that," he began, his features slowly contorting with the first wave of distress that wracked his brain. "i'm not really sure what to say aside from that. i understand that you're upset and i understand why, honestly. i figured you would be, which i guess is why i've been trying to overcompensate with material items. i don't know if that makes me even more of a shitty person, but i figured that the least i can do is make sure you have what you need... i'm not going to sit here and pretend like i'm your savior for doing that, nor am i going to force you to like me. do i want you to? of course i do. i hope we can be friends at the very least, but i'm always going to respect your wants and-"

"don't you have a job to be getting back to?"

you wanted to scream. he was making it so hard by being a decent person, so much that you had half a mind to punch him square in the nose. you knew it was terrible to wish he were a worse person, but it would make your frustration so much more valid. it was very clear that his intention wasn't to confuse you even further, but that was the result regardless. you weren't sure where you stood, only that the ground you wished to be upon was very far out of reach.

he shook his head, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. while he was sure your irritation was very genuine, he was relieved to see that it wasn't likely to grow into something more. the last thing he wanted to do was dig himself a deeper hole to fall into.

"i don't have to do anything; it's more that i choose to get up and go to work everyday. if i really wanted to, i could easily appoint someone to take on my workload without losing any personal profit," he explained, closing the book in his lap and placing it on the coffee table. not only did he want to cut your date short before your annoyance really began to blossom, he could see how tired you'd become. keeping this in mind, he was slow to stand up and extend a hand toward you. there was a fleeting look of hesitance that washed over the irises of your eyes, but you took it nonetheless. while helping you to your feet, he continued. "i like my job--the techy stuff, anyway. having to be the bad guy all the time is honestly really stressful, but i guess that's just part of the package, right?"

though it felt like the question was directed more toward himself than anything, you took it upon yourself to answer anyway. your hand still resting in his, you allowed him to guide you back to the elevator.

"not necessarily," you responded, watching as he swiped his keycard once more. following him into the elevator, you took a few seconds to piece together the rest of your thoughts. it wasn't very easy given how little you knew about what it was he did at work, but you felt that his mindset was very flawed regardless of his job title. "if you're really as in charge as you claim to be, i don't understand why it has to be so terrible for the people that work for you, if that's what you're trying to say."

"you don't get it," he muttered softly.

he used his index finger to press another one of the shiny metal buttons on the panel before him. while doing so, he did his best to avoid your gaze. he didn't even want to think about how he must've sounded complaining about such problems, as they seemed so silly in retrospect. he felt so guilty complaining about the way he happened to make his money knowing you came from the situation you did. in a way, he felt like he had slapped you across the face, though he would never even dream of doing such a thing.

"no, i don't," you quipped. your voice was very level, yet you couldn't help but let go of his hand. it seemed like he wasn't really in the mood to hold yours any more than you were his. "i don't know anything about science, or engineering, or even how to count without using my fingers, but i know what it's like to be poor. my father worked for someone like you. one days worth of your earnings could probably feed a family like mine for at least a week, but instead big companies throw pennies at their workers and demand that we make it stretch far enough. maybe other decisions wouldn't feel so weighted if you knew your employees were going home to more than scraps from the garbage, but you're choosing not to find that out."

johnny remained silent. there was nothing he could say to refute your argument; you were right. this was an issue that was far easier to avoid before your arrival, especially now that you were choosing to voice your concerns. the money his business produced made it very easy to ignore the conditions certain staff members were likely living in. in all honesty, he'd never even given it much thought. his father had always preached that they were not responsible for anything that went on outside of the workplace, though he was neglecting to take into account that the things they provided during work hours directly contributed to everything that took place before and after. he felt ashamed now, having this thrown back in his face.

"you're right. i'm sorry."

the elevator opened up after what felt like forever, much to your relief. after taking two steps forward, it felt like the man had wrapped his hands around both of your ankles and dragged you back ten. you were well aware that the difference in upbringings might make conversation a bit difficult at times, but you weren't expecting him to be so ignorant to the state of the world beyond the little bubble he existed in. all it served to do was dull what little sparkle had managed to find you today.

"i think i remember how to get back to my room from here," you promptly informed him.

"you're sure?" he asked softly, to which you merely nodded.

you didn't know if there was really anything left to say. you were far too exhausted to entertain him any longer; all you wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep until you no longer felt the tiny pinprick of sadness in your chest. 

perhaps tomorrow he would manage to redeem himself, you told yourself. after all, he'd already made it very clear that he had more than enough money to do so.

author’s note: i’m so sorry this took so long ): i’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately, but i’m going to do my best to be more consistent with my uploads. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist (:

[catbountry]

Glancing over some of my older essays on politics, I’m kind of struck how, despite them not being written that long ago, I feel like I come across as a dumbass, or at least like somebody who thinks they’re much smarter than they actually are. And it’s weird, because most of my views are roughly the same; rather, it’s that I feel the way that they’re articulated comes across as too... I don’t know, smarmy? Smug, maybe? Lacking nuance. Blunt. Like I’m talking down to people. Obviously, this was never my intention, but it’s weird how something that was written while in my early 30′s somehow makes me wince a little... as I rapidly approach being smack-dab in the middle of my 30′s. God, I’ve been in my 30′s for almost 5 whole years now, fuck, where does the time go?

I think being able to come out of the other side of the Trump presidency in one piece has kind of helped add some much-needed perspective, at least for myself. I think the hypothesis that a lot of people who voted for Trump were desperate for some kind of change was proven correct when he failed to be re-elected due to his bungling of COVID, which, funnily (or not) enough, he almost could have looked like he was doing the right thing when he initially wanted to close the U.S. borders... except he’d been trying to restrict travel and close borders so often that of course nobody took such a suggestion seriously. And even if they had? Rich people still would have brought it over, because as we all know, rich people can just get away with all kinds of shit. Of course, once it actually hit, Trump really couldn’t handle the idea of looking weak at all, so instead, it was downplayed, joked about, not taken seriously, even though he’d been briefed that it was going to be really, really bad. And when he got it, and in private thought he was going to die? Well, once he beat it, of course he had to say it wasn’t so bad... even though it killed almost a thousand times more people than the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Most of them were seniors. I think that, as well as a general fatigue and disappointment over the lack of swamp-draining from those who weren’t fanatical devotees, probably sealed his fate. I admit, I wasn’t very sure Biden really had much of a chance for a long time... until COVID happened. But hey, at least we got our stimmy from Trump, right lads?

I’m still fully convinced that Trump never intended to win, and that his run was done purely for ego and financial gain, but his ability to effortlessly bait the media, as well as his unexpected exposing of the sham we all knew presidential elections to be, wound up rocketing him to success. Trump will no doubt go down as one of the most successful conmen in American history, one so slick he wound up conning his way all the way into the White House. The whole thing was like if The Producers was a presidential campaign, fascism included. Granted, I don’t think Trump was ever a true fascist; I think he wanted to be a dictator, but the actual job of being President was a drag. The cult of personality he accrued, however, was the biggest source of narcissistic supply that he’d ever experienced in his entire life. Hell, just being the literal President, the most important person in the entire fucking world, is a hell of a high that I don’t think he’ll ever really be able to reclaim. Trump’s going to be chasing that dragon for the rest of his life. Having “President” in front of your name is a lot nicer than actually, you know, having to be the President. I mean, look at how quickly Obama went gray. A lot of people are convinced Trump will run again in 2024, and I don’t doubt it, but unless something happens that completely throws us for a loop, I don’t see him being able to recreate the, er, “magic” of 2016. Everyone getting to see that, not only was his fanbase capable of having embarrassing public meltdowns just like the le epic triggered snowflake lib Hilary supporters, but that their meltdowns were even more embarrassing, and that they all looked like a bunch of fucking English soccer hooligans during the Capitol siege... well, I think that’s going to put off the swing voters, as well as the moderate Republicans.

Also, that Twitter knock-off founded by Trump’s aide, Gettr, being flooded by gay furries posting Sonic the Hedgehog foot porn? Feels like classic 4chan-style raiding. I approve. It almost feels like we’re healing, even if it’s just a little bit.

But what the fuck did we even learn from all this? What did I learn from this?

I don’t know. It feels like over the time I’ve been on Tumblr, what was once SJW became woke, and being woke has become very normal; so normal, in fact, that fucking massive corporations that use slave labor overseas will change their Twitter icons to rainbow every June because The Gays have become a safe, marketable demographic. On one hand, it’s nice to know that, at least in what I guess is considered the western world, LGBT people are more accepted now than they ever have been. On the other... god, it feels so cynical, doesn’t it? This is all very stream of consciousness, here. I don’t write very much on here since, surprise surprise, Tumblr’s been kind of dead since the porn ban. I still see people post, but it used to be that I couldn’t refresh my dash without seeing dozens of new posts. Now it feels like I refresh my dash and I’d be lucky to see a new post there an hour later. This is why I’m on Discord more. It feels like I have more productive conversations than I ever could on Tumblr or Twitter. Twitter is just... god. It’s like all the worst parts of Tumblr without the parts that made it fun aside from a few memes.

Sorry, I got off track there. The point I was going to make before is that, while I am still very firmly anti-censorship, I’ve managed to put myself in a position where it no longer feels like the stakes are so high. I can relax. I don’t have to feel like I’m on the defense the whole time as somebody grills me over some slip-up. I don’t use Twitter that much. When I do post something in response to somebody, I feel like I instantly regret it. I posted in response to some dumbass spreading a rumor that 4chan’s favorite Simpson’s meme about Sneed’s Feed and Seed is secretly ableist, and I got a response from some dude with an Umaru-chan avatar telling me how he’s proudly racist because he and his friends call each other slurs? Like bro, you’re posting cringe, you’re going to lose subscriber-

I don’t know what I’ve learned yet. Maybe that social media sucks and that chatrooms with friends are the superior way to communicate online. I tried out Telnet recently to go into some random IRC, that was neat. It just feels nice to not have to get into a fucking argument every fucking day over shit that doesn’t matter as much as people thinks it does, to not have to hear about every fucking time the President sneezes or farts. It’s not that there’s no longer anything to worry about; there is. I’d really like to see fellow lefties go after the handful of massive corporations that control the majority of the online experience, who censor not just all the racist white dude grifters in suits who all look suspiciously similar to one another, but us as well. I want to see us raise a bigger stink about the web being santized, sterlized, and gentrified to be friendlier to corporations who only want your precious data and eyeballs. Maybe without the constant distraction of Bad Orange Man, we could make that happen. Maybe.

Or maybe fucking Dream will breathe again and all the fucking children will piss their pants and clog up Twitter, fuck these kids, get off my internet, GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

[no-whump-on-main]

Untitled (for now) Vampire Whump

Soooo I binge read @whumping-every-day ‘s Ash and Callum series this morning (It’s INCREDIBLE, by the way, go read it now) and got mega inspired to write some vamp whump of my own, though with very different dynamics than in the Ash and Callum series. Also partially inspired by @whumped-cream ‘s prompt about a similar scenario :) (sorry for the tags y’all I just wanna properly credit)

ANYWAYS HERE WE GO PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK IT MAKES MY HEART SING

TW/CWs: some mild imagined gore/body horror, pet whump, long term captivity, dehumanization, vampire whumper/human whumpee, possible minor whump? Whumpee is described as young but her actual age is not known.

     There is a girl in the basement of the old wooden mansion down Buist street.

     The residence teeters on the outskirts of the miniscule town it was built in many decades ago, resting so far away from the rest of town that it is visited by no one but impish teenagers who dare each other to get close enough to pound their aching fists on the heavy black door, then turn and sprint back, completely unknowing of the horrors inside.

     Younger children make up songs about the foul creature rumored to own the estate, singing hymns in high-pitched voices to each other about the great evil. Rumor had it that the evil man inside lurked among them, perfectly blended into their society. He worked with them, prayed with them, lodged with them, and was, in every way, a part of them.

     The adults of the village grew out of believing the rumors about a monster who lurked among them as they aged. They moved on, found occupations, married, and had children of their own, who became the next generation to preach the tale of the vampire down Buist street, of the vile creature who cruelly drained human bodies for his own pleasure, then flew off into the night and locked himself in his lavish home until the desire to feed struck him again.

     That was where all the generations of townspeople had gotten him wrong. No, he did not feed off of strangers in the nighttime only to flee and leave his victims dead and drained.

     He preferred living, breathing sources of fresh blood. The basement of his wooded home contained a cell, dedicated to the upkeep of his servants. That was what he called them; the captives he took were but servants to him, warm, beings to feed him whenever he so desired. He never kept more than one at a time, and had never had a servant last much longer than one or two cycles of the full moon before their weak, fleshy bodies gave in to exsanguination. Oh, what pitiful things. The man who kept the servants (if one could even call him a man anymore, given that he’d sacrificed his humanity as he became nothing but a sadistic bringer of suffering so very long ago) almost pitied them. Not for the pain that he inflicted, but for the fact that they had to exist in such useless vessels. The only true purpose of a human body was to serve something stronger. It was an honor for a being so useless to find purpose by becoming a servant to someone greater.

     The vampire did not often make exceptions to his standards of keeping his servants. He had standards for a reason, after all. This meant that what he had now was a rare, beautiful thing.

     He had kept the girl in the basement through the passing of nearly two winters. With proper yet minimal care and caution to never feed too much in one sitting, he had managed to preserve her frail body and keep her blood pure, warm, and plentiful for nearly two years. Now, why he’d done this was still a mystery to himself. He could’ve gone through more than twenty servants by now, tasted the different unique notes of their blood, watched them all submit in front of his eyes, and yet, even with the knowledge of what he could’ve had, he was still more than content with his little pet. He had never found himself so infatuated with a useless human being before that fateful day nearly two years ago when he had spied the traveling merchant girl with nothing but a pack, a rack of spices, a pouch for coins, and a mare tied to a post in the grass nearby. There was something about the girl’s natural, unspoken charm that instantly drew him into obsession with her that day.

     He’d struck up a conversation with the girl and bought out nearly half of her wares, despite having no use for the human pleasure of assorted foreign spices. After a long exchange, it was all too easy to lure her back to his estate with the promise of a meal and a bed for the night; after all, she was a weary young thing who did not yet know the danger of following a strange man home, no matter how kind his appearance was. He doubted she’d been travelling along dirt roads any longer than a week.

     The girl had put up a strong fight at first. She was fiery, and the vampire admired that. Her fighting spirit proved to him just what a perfect human she was. She was not so weak like the others. For weeks, every time he came to feed on her blood she fought like a wild animal, biting and scratching and keening up until the very moment his fangs slid into her neck, forcing her into being still and silent as to avoid tearing her carotid artery.

     That initial fight, the aching rage deep in her very soul made her so much more gorgeous to see battered, muzzled, and completely submissive in the bounds of a metal cage built with the intention of containing a feral dog, not a broken human girl. 

     It took months, but the vampire had made her the perfect servant. The perfect little toy. And after so much work, he was never going to let her perish in the chilled waste of his basement underground.

     He called her Annalise. She did not know why. That wasn’t her name. But that foreign name, the one that did not belong to her, became so much easier to accept as her own as she was slowly beaten into perfect submission over many months, so fiercely that she could no longer recall what her name had been before. Or who her family had been, or what she had done to support them. She did not recall her favorite things, or what she liked to eat.

     She knew only her cell and Master. She knew that she was Annalise and she was perfectly behaved for Master. Every waking moment of her life was dedicated to him. Serving him. She belonged to him. Startlingly, she did not remember a time before the basement. There was only Master. He was all she knew.

     The cell she was kept in was cold and dark. She had not once felt the warm mercy of sunlight on her skin in a longer span of time than she could remember. She had not even been granted the gentle light and warmth of a fire. There were no windows in the basement; the only light she ever saw came from an oil lamp Master brought with him when he came to eat, then took away when he returned to his unknown abyss of a home upstairs. The commodity of warmth was similarly limited. Master brought her a thin linen blanket as a reward when he was pleased with her, but she could never quite decipher what exactly pleased him. His kindness, to her, seemed to come in random bursts of his own volition, but they were never underappreciated. Annalise was always so very grateful for the shreds of mercy he showed her, cowering at his feet like she was praying to her god every time he showed her even the simplest kindness. 

     Sometimes it would be a hot, filling meal, in stark contrast to the bowl of cold porridge and glass of water she was normally brought every morning. Other times it was warmth; the blanket, her favorite source, but also sometimes fresh changes of clothes, nightgowns that were made of thicker material than the usual thin cotton, and even jackets to layer over her usual clothing. Rewards did not come often, and never lasted long, but they were always blissful. She cherished what she was given until the very moment Master instructed her to give it back.

     Despite this, her favorite reward of all was not a physical item. Her favorite reward came  when she heard master’s footsteps tap tap tap down the concrete basement stairs, in the particularly heavy, tired-sounding manner that she knew meant he was going to feed. It came when he opened the creaking metal door to her cell, swiftly allowed himself in, but did not instruct her to crawl to him, kneel, and bare her pretty neck. 

     It was when he would hold her as he ate. It was a rare occurrence, but Annalise lived for it. He would scoop her into his long arms and cradle her like a child, sometimes whispering to her sweetly before gently brushing her matted hair over her shoulder, then tilting her neck and piercing her carotid. Feeling his fangs sliding into the pale, tender skin of her neck hurt every time, but when she was being held so gently, it was almost possible to forget the pain. To just focus on Master, and on him and his kindness only. The pain was so much more bearable when she was cradled in loving arms rather than kneeling on the stone floor, her knees in agony as emaciation had left the bones so very close to the surface of her skin, meaning they were constantly grinding into the ground. 

     His feeding never took long, only a few minutes. And typically, he would immediately leave, but when he held her, he’d always linger after finishing, tenderly wiping the excess blood away from the new puncture wound in her neck that would soon begin to scar before beginning to rock her, singing sweetly in a language she did not recognize until she fell asleep. That’s how she knew that he loved her. He would not be so kind if he didn’t.

     Most of her days simply consisted of sleep, as there was very little else to do but rest, and she was often too exhausted to do anything else. Constant shivering took a very heavy toll on her muscles, and even when she was granted warmth from Master, her shaking never really did stop. Her body had just simply never gotten used to the biting cold of the basement. At least Master never seemed to mind. He had never instructed her to stop shaking, nor had he ever seemed bothered by the cold himself when he came downstairs.

     The month now was January. For the girl, this meant spring would come soon, and the basement would be just ever so slightly warmer, something she was infinitely grateful for. She craved warmth more than anything. For the vampire, though, January meant something much more special.

     It meant that it was nearly the second anniversary of the day he had brought his special servant home. And because this girl was so very special to him, she deserved a very special celebration.

     The vampire thought it was high time his Annalise was introduced to his friends. He had a bustling social life, and yet, not one of his peers had ever met the girl. It wasn’t  terribly unusual for vampires not to meet each others’ servants, given their typically short lifetimes, and the fact that vampires did not meddle with anyone else’s pet unless they were invited to, in which case, they could easily become a pack of cruel, wild hyenas. The vampire knew of this cruelty, which was part of the reason he had never told a soul about the girl, but now, after so much time, and with how perfectly behaved she was, he was sure a few select friends could never spoil a thing about his beloved servant. He was overjoyed, ecstatic, even, to finally be showing her off. Not only would he be able to show her around the upstairs, he could use the opportunity to test her obedience, see just how far her devotion went.

     In a pattern now familiar to Annalise, he padded down the stairs to announce to her his spectacular plans. He had decided not to inform her until the day of, not wanting to get the pet riled up, but now, it was time. In mere hours, his friends would arrive to see the girl he had promised them all to be so breathtaking.

     And he had to get her ready.

[mamacleo]

"We don't want to be doing this either."

CW/TW: Frank talk about borderline personality disorder. Can be triggering.

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What did they give you?

Did they give you love? Did they give you respect? Did they give you support?

Did they give you abuse? Did they give you disrespect? Were you on your own?

If it's both? Unpredictable? Nearly random? And constant?

Imagine being in Marine boot camp. That for no reason you can grasp, either everyone hates you or you think they do. Imagine every expression of respect or support is suspect because you know it carries conditions that can cripple you. Because there is never any knowing if a good word hides a fist or a knife.

Imagine, too, that when you screw up, you will be physically hazed for you don't know how long, how hard, and it is random. What got praise yesterday can leave you bruised today. Or scarred. Heaven help you if they should get creative.

It comes with brainwashing. Always. Being told you deserve what you get. Your self-worth being dismantled with verbal violence. Always with the voice of rage. The sound of rage. You hear it coming before it arrives now. You are powerless to stop it.

There are no rules. There are no guidelines. There are no patterns. Any time, day or night. In your sleep. While you're eating. While you're resting.

Imagine being on guard for all of this all day, every day. Your amygdala, lighting up all day and feeding you nightmares at night. The constant short breath, the constant flow of adrenaline. Always assessing your surroundings in the vain hopes you might escape.

Now imagine that Marine boot camp lasting for twenty years.

How would you come out? What kind of a broken person would you be if you went into boot camp and it didn't end? Didn't stop? Worse than you imagined? You had no idea how long it would last? Every day, hoping it's the last, hoping there'll be a break, but there isn't and no one will tell you when it's gonna end.

Waking moment to sleep, then the nightmares. Lather, rinse, repeat. Twenty years. Maybe more.

Could you do it? Could you do it without committing suicide? Could you?

Would the Geneva Conventions allow us to do that to prisoners of war? Could we stand before The Hague and escape judgment?

What would you be like if you went into the Marines as a young adult and were trapped in it, no escape, no hope, and didn't come out until you were middle-aged? Two decades of this? Can you imagine this being done by the Marines and there not being a Congressional inquiry?

Could you do this to an adult human being?

It happens to children. Every day. Every, every day. By parents. Teachers. Relatives. Schoolmates. Clergy. Youth leaders.

The results of this are, for most victims, devastating. For most of us, we end up with this thing that psychologists tagged "Borderline Personality Disorder." That's what BPD is, not bipolar disorder, if you were wondering. The pathology of it is complex. It's brutally hard to cope with.

It's emotions ratcheted up way past 11. The best word I have for it is "operatic." Every cruelty is Carmen, every battle is Ride of the Valkyries, every terror is Don Giovanni. The pain, and it is an emotional pain so severe you feel it all over your body, is excruciating enough to make you scream. (At first.) I could tell you how it usually goes, but there is no usually goes. That's the horror of it. It's devious.

It knows you better than you do, because it's fueled by your subconscious and knows all the secrets you won't consciously admit to yourself. It will not hesitate for a heartbeat to use them to crush you, because believe me, BPD is all about destroying yourself. In your mind, you're just finishing the job the world started.

You're easily triggered. It can be anything. It can be nothing. You may not know what did it. It might hit like a shot. It might build up. It might come over you like a tsunami. Once it starts, you can't stop it. Not usually.

For instance: I have been showing borderline symptoms since I was about 11. I've been like this for 49 years. Only in the last two have I made the kind of progress to where I can now either divert or resolve the episode without the usual damage.

It wasn't easy. Though I didn't realize it until just this very moment, I used it against itself. I worked hard on this, obsessively, compulsively, for close to 40 years, and my progress is phenomenal.

All the fierce concentration, the operatic fears, the delusional thinking--I've gotten very, very good at it--and I still can't always stop it. I have strategies, but they don't always work. Every time is different.

Think about that. EVERY TIME IS DIFFERENT.

If you have not gone through it, you simply cannot imagine it. And the exhaustion. Oh, holy Hera, the exhaustion. You cannot imagine the crushing weight of a lifetime of this. It affects your physical health. People who don't have this don't understand, *it's cumulative.* And like arsenic, you can't flush it out.

The best you ever do is manage it. It's a life sentence. There's no escape. Your brain was hardwired to be like this. Like John Mulaney says, "We don't want to be doing this either." With work, and it takes a LOT of work, you can make it better.

But not everyone has it. Not everyone is strong. Not everyone is brave. Not everyone can make the right decisions. Not everyone can think clearly.

Most of us don't even realize it. I didn't until I was 58 years old and a shrink diagnosed me following a suicide attempt. How can you fix it when you don't know that it's there? Shrinks don't want to deal with us. We take work, exhausting work. We're hard to live with. They'd rather just medicate us, and not all of us respond to what few meds there are.

Now allow me to blow your mind.

THERE ARE TENS OF MILLIONS OF US.

We're "the weird kid." The dork. The manic pixie dream chick. The ones who hated ourselves so much it showed. That doesn't change. It never changes. There is no therapy, no counseling, no medicine that will ever get rid of that deep, tenacious rupture that is BPD self-loathing. The best you do is come to terms with it.

The stigma must end. It's difficult. We have a long road. It's only recently becoming known and there is a lot of fear of us. It's not unwarranted, either. People get caught up in our emotional storms and get hurt. Occasionally even physically. I will tell you hard things, but I will not lie to you: we have deeds to answer for.

Mine is managed, at last, but it still can't be controlled. I just spent a week in a particularly cruel one. And went into one last night. I got out, but the shadow of it will linger a day or two.

The best you can do is come up with strategies. That is something I can help others do now, and it is going to make everything that has gone before worth it.

[kuriquinn]

Wait For Me

Blanket Fic Disclaimer

Original Prompt by: @toscafan

"Olá. Você poderia escrever uma fic onde após Sasuke voltar para a vila, Sakura vai em uma missão e é gravemente ferida. Então Sasuke percebe que seus sentimentos por ela cresceram quando ele a vê ferida no hospital. Talvez com um pouco de Naruto preocupado também. Eu imagino isso entre o período que Sasuke volta para Konoha e antes de eles partirem juntos em suas viagens. Suas histórias são maravilhosas :) eu sinto muito não escrever em inglês :( “

[Roughly:  Hello, Could you write a fic where after Sasuke returns to the village, Sakura goes on a mission and is seriously injured. Then Sasuke realises that his feelings for her have grown when he sees her injured in the hospital. Maybe with a bit of Naruto worried too. I imagine it between the time Sasuke returns to Konoha and before they leave together on their travels.]

Author’s Note: As promised during Evil Author Day, I am trying to finish some of my WIPs. I actually managed to finish this one (Prompt # 4), which is a total miracle given how I’ve been feeling lately. And the fact I think this one is like...two years old. So yeah, major backlog of stuff that needs writing. Enjoy!

Beta Reader: None but me and my editing software :)

________________________________________________________________

⁂ ⁂ ⁂

It shouldn’t have happened.

The words repeat themselves on a loop in Sasuke’s head, like a record player tossed asunder, skipping unerringly back over the same line in a song. In every momentary pause where the words begin to repeat, there is a breath, an extended moment of tension where his chest feels tighter and tighter.

She hasn’t been on active duty rosters since the war. Her field is medicine, not defense or combat or infiltration, and as strong and talented as Haruno Sakura is, she’s still human and prone to mistakes. Shinobi work isn’t like riding a bike. You have to continue to exercise your particular skillset daily, or mistakes can be made, leading to mishaps, leading to—

It shouldn’t have happened.

サスサク

When the call came in for a relief-force of medicnin, it wasn’t unusual. War or no, there are still major medical emergencies and disasters. In this case, reports reached Konoha of an earthquake 350 miles away. Though the village had barely experienced a tremor, the quake had apparently devastated the shepherding community living at the base of the mountain.

As a rule, Sakura should have stayed behind to coordinate everything from the village; with Tsunade on another of her gambling jaunts, she was the most senior healer.

But the devastated town was without its own medical corps, and the number of injured was overwhelming. Every able pair of hands was needed and naturally, Sakura volunteered herself for the mission.

“I can do the work of a dozen medics and they might need someone to lift debris,” she informed the Sixth Hokage when he seemed likely to protest. “I also trained the latest group of emergency medics going out there; they’re still relatively untested in the field. Better they take their orders from me than some random jounin that you assign.”

Kakashi knew better than to argue with his former student, but he was reluctant. For some reason, he was uneasy. There was little reason for it that he could discern, but after all his years as a shinobi, he had learned to heed his instincts.

“Please, Lord Sixth, there are many large families there, with children.”

Against that—with no concrete reason to give—he could not say no.

“Do you need anyone else beyond the emergency medics?”

“Any civilians with basic first aid training,” Sakura replied, pleased at the response. “Whichever doctors and staff can be spared. The general surgeons, perhaps, but no one with specialized training or technique that we would supper from losing.”

Kakashi nodded and made a gesture she recognized to mean an official granting of the request.

“Ideally, you’d send Naruto as well. He could use the Nine-Tails chakra to mass-heal the simplest injuries. It would make triage a lot faster.”

“That’s not in my power. I’m already on thin ice with the Elders for my executive order to pardon Sasuke. I doubt they’ll want him leaving the village any time soon.”

Sakura scowled.

Under normal circumstances she would argue—she had long ago made clear her dislike  and distrust for the village Elders—but every minute spent arguing was wasting crucial time.

“Can you try to convince them?” she asked as she turned to leave the office. “We should be sending out best for this.”

“We already are,” Kakashi said with ease, and there was a smile in his eyes. The one Sakura returned was only a little strained, mind already on her future patients.

サスサク

Sasuke was on a short, probationary mission at the time, in the complete opposite direction from the disaster zone. He didn’t even hear about the earthquake until two days later.

While handing his mission report to Kakashi, he may have been somewhat surprised to learn Sakura would not be around to greet him the way she usually did—and Kakashi’s eyes had a far too knowing gleam in them when he mentioned it—but it never occurred to Sasuke that she would be in any kind of danger.

At least, nothing she wasn’t capable of handling for herself.

For those two days, Sasuke carried out his usual routine, slowly acclimating to being back in service to the village. It still wasn’t his preference to be around so many people, and there was a constant sense of discomfort that lingered at the back of his mind. The sensation of eyes on him from all over, ANBU and civilian alike, heavy with judgement and fear. The only time that feeling abated, even for just a little, was when he was around Sakura, Naruto or Kakashi.

Still, he wasn’t willing or able to seek any of them out. They all have busy lives, and he earned that judgement and fear from the village. It would be an easy feat to leave and never return, but he didn’t deserve easy. Remaining here was part of his punishment, and so he would learn to live with it.

At home, when the constant surveillance became too much, he went to an empty training ground and put himself through various sword forms or engage in other exercises. In two years, he’s grown used to living and fighting with only one arm, but it’s the constant practice that keeps him lethal.

On the morning of the third day he is going through one of his complex sword kata in the training ground where Kakashi made them genin. He tells himself it’s coincidence and not sentimentality that brought him here this morning, even as the three posts stand vigil over his training like towers of memory.

Today he is working only on form and movement, not using any techniques requiring chakra, just trying to sharpen his movements into their usual lethal grace.

As he uncoils from a low final arc of his sword, returning to a resting position, there is a sudden cracking noise; his gaze snaps toward it, and he watches as—apropos of nothing—the wooden post to his far right splits right down the middle.

Sasuke immediately goes still, focussing his awareness around himself and the area, scanning for danger. There is no one in this place foolish enough to try something—even if he wasn’t lethal on his own, the ANBU escorts hidden in the shadows would have been alerted.

The wind continues meander, sending leaves rustling; the sound of birds and the distant crash of the river do not change. There is not threat that he can detect, nothing but a growing sense of foreboding.

And then the ground begins to shake.

As far as earthquakes go, it’s not the worst he’s experienced. He has no problem remaining on his feat as the ground roils and trembles. Even the trees surrounding him show no sign of shuddering.

It’s small and innocuous, nothing on the same level as the one Sakura was sent to help with.

His eyes drift, lingering on the cracked post.

Memory conjures an image of a gawky twelve year old with too-long-to-be-practical hair and luminous green eyes betraying strain and discomfort as she feeds their third teammate tied to the middle post.

It’s probably nothing.

But for some reason his focus on his exercises vanishes, replaced instead with a growing disquiet in the pit of his stomach.

It only grows with every moment as he returns to the village proper and, without knowing why, makes a beeline for Hokage Tower. All around him, people talk excitedly about the tremor, laughing it off and telling one another what they were doing when they noticed it. It’s just a facet of their day, something that—while uncommon—is not dangerous enough to merit panic.

So why does he suddenly feel uneasy?

サスサク

Sasuke arrives at the Tower at the same time as Naruto, a face which causes his inexplicable agitation to ratchet immediately higher, especially given his friend’s uncharacteristic frown and the absence of his usual joking greeting.

Without exchanging words, they enter Kakashi’s office and are immediately treated to the sight of their former instructor pacing by the window, a frown drawing his brows together. The coiled cord of the telephone stretches and relaxes with his back-and-forth movements. It’s so in contrast to his usual demeanor—lazily slouched in his chair—that Sasuke’s spine stiffens in response.

Kakashi eventually hangs up the phone and faces his students.

“There was a second earthquake,” he tells them gravely. “Right next to the refugee camp we set up. According to reports, about 180 million tons of mountainside have crumble down onto the camp. They don’t know if there are any survivors.”

Sasuke’s fist clenches and Naruto’s eyes blink into slits as he activates his senjutsu.

“I can’t sense Sakura’s chakra,” he says, a panicked note in his voice. “Usually I get a definite flicker from her, even at this distance…”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Sasuke tells him. “She masks her chakra when she’s on medical missions to avoid presenting a target.”

He’s not sure how he knows this, since he can’t recall if she mentioned any such practice in their conversations since he’s been back, yet he knows it to be true. Still, this knowledge brings no comfort with it, because the uncomfortable pit in his stomach remains.

“She would be healing everyone after a huge disaster like that,” Naruto protests. “I’d definitely sense that. But I can’t.”

Which, admittedly, worries Sasuke a little despite his unshakable faith in Sakura’s abilities.

Naruto turns to Kakashi, his shoulders squared as if in preparation for a fight. “I’m going to check on her. Even if she’s fine, they’ll need help digging survivors out. I can definitely help with that.”

“Fine,” Kakashi says. The fact he doesn’t argue or mention the concerns of the Elders is telling. “If you leave now, you should get there within—”

Sasuke doesn’t stay to listen.

He’s already climbing the stairs to the roof where there is more open space.

He is by no means an expert at using his Rinnegan yet—every day heralds a new ability or application—but he has more or less figured out how to travel between far distant locations instantly.

“Oi! Sasuke! Wait up!” Naruto shouts from behind as Sasuke focusses himself on creating a pathway. He glanced the coordinates he needs on the papers covering Kakashi’s desk, knows where he’s supposed to go—

The space in front of him crackles, displacing the air, and then rips open, forming a portal of swirling violet energy. On the other side, he can discern a giant wall of rubble.

He wastes no time slipping through, trusting Naruto to follow directly behind him.

サスサク

The sight before them is a grim one.

Sasuke hasn’t seen destruction on this scale since the war.

Mountains loom around them, the closest one looking misshapen due to the giant shelf that has vanished as if scraped off with a giant chisel. Its remnants spill out in front of it, creating a smaller mountain of churned earth and rock, uprooted trees and other debris.

People gather around, civilian and shinobi alike, covered in dust and digging frantically at the rubble. Likely the lucky few who were far enough away when the second quake hit to avoid the harm.

There are almost no Konohanin, medicnin or otherwise, that he can see, suggesting a grim truth to him: they are all underneath the remains of the mountain. Dead, most likely, or trapped and dying as the seconds pass.

But where is Sakura?

She could survive being buried under such weight, and should have dug her way out by now. Stone and rock are like cottage cheese to her strong fists.

“Naruto!”

The two newcomers glance up as a Konohanin scrambles toward them. As he gets closer, Sasuke recognizes him as the kid Sakura has taken on as an assistant. Ando something or other.

“We need help!” the kid gasps when he arrives in front of them, dust-covered and exhausted. “We can’t shift the earth using doton because it could hurt the people underneath.”

The jinchuriki is already forming the signs to summon up shadow clones. If this has to b cleared by hand, he’s the best man for the job. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo.”

“We’ll get through this without a problem!”

“Believe it!”

The clones are already spreading out across the landscape, like a sea of orange washing over the scene.

Sasuke stares down at the boy. “Where is Sakura?”

Ando goes pale beneath the fine layer of dust, eyes pained. “When the earthquake stared, she was trying to get everyone in the medical tents to safety. When she realized she couldn’t, she tried to create barriers to stop the worst of the damage using doton. But it was coming on too fast, and so she tried to slow down the avalanche—"

“Of course she did,” Sasuke murmurs to himself, teeth gritted.

“—but it wasn’t enough! The last I saw, she was destroying the rocks coming at her, but then she was buried.”

“And where were you in all this?”

There’s an accusation in his words that has made stronger men tremble, but Ando merely shudders and clenches his fists. No shrinking violets working with Sakura, that’s for sure.

“I was on water duty. The rivers here were all polluted by the first quake, and so I had to travel far. I saw it all from that cliff up there and hurried down here as fast as I could to help, but…”

He gestures ineffectively, clearly not knowing where to start.

“Sasuke!” Naruto yells all of a sudden, and Sasuke’s head whips toward where he is helping a woman with shredded clothing to climb from the rubble. She is remarkably stable on her feet, considering the situation, and Sasuke understands a moment later when he sees the white creature attached to her shoulder.

“Lady Katsuyu!” Ando cries and hurries over, followed closely by SAsuke.

“Where’ Sakura?” Naruto demands as the younger boy helps the quake victim to sit down. “Is she okay?”

“She’s at the very bottom,” Katsuyu says fretfully. “There’s an airpocket and she’ll still have air for a little while, but she’s gravely injured. Her entire lower body is crushed.” Sasuke’s heart constricts painfully. “I tried to help, but she insisted I attach myself to all the refugees, to keep them alive until help arrives. I fear she won’t be able to keep it up very long. Even my healing can’t save the people buried so long without oxygen.”

“Little fool,” Sasuke growls, the viciousness of the words surprising him more than the situation. Of course she’s more worried about the survival of her patients and the others instead of herself.

“We’re getting her out,” Naruto declares, summoning more clones. “We’ll get her and everyone else out!”

And Sasuke finds himself hoping this is another miracle that his friend’s mere presence and stubbornness will help pull off.

 サスサク

The task is arduous and time consuming.

Sasuke is bizarrely conscious of the speed at which the time passes—too fast. They continue dragging survivors out from beneath the rubble—all unharmed, but looking more and more shambled as the rescue efforts reach deeper into the rubble. Every so often, there is a red glow, and the unearth another person being Naruto has managed to sense and enfold in his healing chakra cloak.

Sasuke uses his snake summons for the first time in years, sending them from his sleeve to slither around and crush rocks blocking their path. He digs one-handed while Naruto and the clones make quick work of their chosen debris fields.

They have yet to find Sakura, or a person that as died of their injuries; all of them so far have had a miniature clone of Lady Katsuyu attached somewhere on their bodies.

Yet he can’t sense Sakura.

“Her chakra signature is everywhere,” he frets. “She’s channelling it through Katsuyu to keep everyone alone. I can’t get a proper read on her.”

“And you won’t,” Lady Katsuyu says in a tremulous tone. “The byakugou has disengaged—her strength has finally run out.” She shudders. “We’re too far away. There’s no way we’ll make it to her in time. And I can only linger here a few minutes longer without her sustaining me.”

“We’ll make it!” Naruto growls, tone and eyes harsh like that of a cornered fox. There’s a panic there, belying his words, because he clearly has no idea how they’re going to do that.

It’s that panic more than anything so far that makes Sasuke’s guts roil and a sickening nausea of fear well up within him. Because Naruto never gives up, he always has hope and he always has some kind of harebrained plan to fix a bad situation.

And if he doesn’t have one in this case, it means Sakura’s fate is sealed.

Which—

No.

“You have a clone with Sakura now?” he asks Katsuyu.

“O-of course,” the snail replies, almost surprised at being addressed so directly.

“You can share your chakra between one another. Can you share the chakra of someone else the same way?”

Naruto’s eyes widen as he catches on. “Yes! If I share my chakra with you and your clone, I’ll able to sense where your clone is and we can find Sakura faster.”

“We don’t have that kind of time,” Lady Satsuyu replies mournfully. “And besides, I can’t share your chakra, Naruto-kun. The chakra of biju is too volatile, and unless a blood contract has been made, like yours with the toads, it would become too volatile.”

“You wouldn’t need a contract with me,” Sasuke says. “My chakra is entirely my own.”

The slug’s head bobs to one side in consideration, and then she makes a noise of assent. “We can try.”

Sasuke holds out his hand, allowing Lady Katsuyu to inch closer, pressing herself up against his palm. There’s a beat of tense silence as they both concentrate, Sasuke infusing a burst of chakra in the tiny creature’s body.

She shudders from the force of it, her energy signature changing to a mixture of her own and his.

“It’s done,” she says, and he can feel a tiny twinge in his senses calling from far beneath the crumbled mountain.

Sasuke nods and begins to back away from the rubble. “Get beneath her.”

“I don’t understand,” Ando is saying. “How will that be any different from before? Lady Katsuyu was already able to direct us to Sakura.”

“He’s not just looking for Sakura’s location,” Naruto says with a grim smile. “He needs to know exactly where she is.”

“But why—?”

Sasuke tunes out the useless questions as he positions himself somewhere with a decent amount of clearance all around him. Bracing himself—he’s never tried this particular gambit before—he activates the Sharingan and reaches deep within his chakra reserves.

Instantly, violent purple energy manifests, bones and muscle and armor, as Susanoo encompasses him all around. The burning, ripping pain of it has almost become distant by now, and he focusses past it, still holding onto that shred of his chakra beckoning him from wherever Sakura is.

He turns his head, concentrating on the space in front of Susanoo’s empty right hand and activates the Rinnegan.

A portal twists into being from thin air, and Sasuke hardly waits before raising Susanoo’s hand and pressing the limb through the portal. He can distantly feel the weight of her against the flat of the hand as it materializes directly beneath her body, and then pulls her backward, shutting the portal immediately after extracting her to ensure none of the rubble baring down on her might follow.

As gentle as he can, Sasuke lays Sakura down upon the ground, Susanoo vanishing as her body touches the earth.

サスサク

Everyone is already kneeling around her when Sasuke touches back down, the chakra giant vanishing once more. Lady Katsuyu vanishes, no longer having Sakura’s strength to draw on, and Naruto is snapping something at Ando, probably to get help.

All of it washes over Sasuke in a meaningless, soundless wave as his eyes fall upon Sakura. His lungs tighten as he takes in her broken body.

Her legs are bruised and battered, crushed inward in some places and bones poking out of other places; it’s the same for her hips and several ribs. Her eyes are open and staring, a trail of blood leaking from the corner of her mouth and nose.

The sight is terrifying.

For a short yet eternal moment he is back in the streets of the Uchiha district, surrounded by the bodies of his family. Just as he was then, he is frozen now—inutile and incapable of doing anything.

“Naruto…” he begins, not knowing exactly what he’s trying to ask.

“This is bad,” Naruto says, voice strained. His eyes are slits once more, his sage mode active as a red film covers Sakura’s body. “I can heal the big stuff, but so much has been pulverized…” He swallows as if in physical pain; Sasuke knows the feeling. “She needs someone that can do surgery at the microlevel. If I heal her right now, like this, I could do a lot more harm then good.”

It’s a measure of how far Naruto’s come that he recognizes this, that he knows not to simply ram through his power and hope it helps.

Sasuke doesn’t know what will help now.

Scenarios and plans speed through a mind more suited for battle tactics than life-saving measures, as he tries to think of any way that he can help her and wishing for the first time in a long time that Karin were here.

Wishing he had ever taken the time to learn more about the healing arts than how to kill.

All the while, the sight of Sakura’s shattered limbs taunting him as her blood seeps into the sand.

Sasuke blinks.

Sand.

The memory hits him out of nowhere, the way many of his recollections from before do. Waking in a hospital, distantly hearing people talking about a fight—sand versus strength.

“Tsunade,” Sasuke says, remembering how the Fifth Hokage dealt with something similar. Right around the time she healed his mind from Itachi’s merciless assault on it, she saved Rock Lee from a life of paralysis.

Naruto is frowning, once again on the same wavelength as him. “No one knows where she is.”

“I’ll find her. Get Sakura back to Konoha—”

“No…”

Both of them jump at the pained, feeble voice and glance down.

Sakura’s eyes are closed now, clenched as tight as her jaw when she speaks through gritted teeth. “There are still…people…” She tries to raise a hand, gesture toward the rubble. “Naruto…stay and…help…”

“Sakura, no!” he snaps. “You’re in a mess right now, I need to keep you going until—”

“…Too much…damage…wasting your…chakra…”

“Sakura,” Sasuke says tersely, and her eyes shoot open toward him. Awareness flickers behind green irises, along with some surprise, as if she didn’t realize or expect him to be there.

“Sasu…ke…”

He shivers.

There has never been a time in his life when he and Sakura haven’t been aware of the presence of the other. The fact she didn’t notice him is telling in the severity of her injury…as is her not expecting him to be by her side.

After all, when has he ever been?

What has he ever done for her?

“We have to get her out of here,” Naruto says. “Do you have enough strength for another portal?”

Sasuke nods, though he isn’t sure; he’s used his abilities twice now in quick succession. But for Sakura, he’ll try.

The space beside them rips open, once more opening onto the familiar rooftops of Konoha as seen from Hokage Tower. All they need to do is step through, and so Naruto goes to pick Sakura up, only for her to scream in sudden sharp agony.

Sasuke’s heart stutters, his concentration wavering slightly, allowing the portal to shrink and contract worryingly.

“She’s too hurt,” Naruto says, panicked. “We need to keep her on her back or…I might sever something important.”

There are no stretchers here, no immobilizing aids to move her. If he had any idea where Tsunade Senju was, he’d seek her out and return her here instantly, but he doesn’t have that time and neither does Sakura.

“I’ll bring her,” Sasuke says.

“But—”

“You stay here. Help the survivors.”

There’s something on his face that keeps Naruto from arguing further, but Sasuke is no longer paying attention. Once again, he centers himself, trying to divide his power between the portal and call up Susanoo in just the right manner.

It takes searing concentration to manifest Susanoo’s hand in the space between Sakura’s body and the ground, letting the chakra fill in beneath her and keep her steady and supine.

Sakura’s eyes are wide, trained on him in something like desperation, before they roll back and she lapses into unconsciousness.

Sasuke’s lungs constrict, but he forces himself to work through it, to slide Susanoo’s hand straight through the portal until Sakura is no longer lying among the debris of the dead but in the safety of their village.

Sweat breaks out across his forehead and the back of his neck, and he tastes blood in his mouth, but he manages to retract the chakra within him. He’s about to step through when—

“Wait!”

He grits his teeth, eyes darting back to the kid—Ando—who has returned.

“Let me come too,” he says. “I can keep her stable, or—or go get someone from the hospital, or—”

“Go!” Sasuke snarls, half from effort and half from irritation the boy is taking up valuable seconds.

A terrified expression breaks over Ando’s face for a moment, before he throws himself headlong through the portal.

“Find Tsunade,” Sasuke tells Naruto as he follows. He doesn’t have to hear the response to know he will.

サスサク

He has no right to be here.

The intensive care wing of Konoha’s hospital is a flurry of movement as doctors and nurses and medic-nin rush in and out of the surgery where they are working on Sakura. He lingers outside the doors, his own self-recrimination keeping him out here more than the ‘Staff Only’ sign on the door.

He doesn’t deserve to be here, to hear news of her condition. He left—he’s always leaving—and she’s always waiting. She’s always here and he realizes with a sudden disbelief that somehow, somewhere along the line something in him has taken that for granted.

Ever since the War, ever since watching her blossom into her abilities and to demonstrate power that makes her neigh indestructible, he’s been thinking of her as if she is. As if she’s a constant that will never change, that will always exist.

Like she’s immortal.

Except she’s not, she can die like anyone else.

It’s something taken for granted in their line of work, but medic-nin die the same as anyone else in the service. And Sakura would be the first to insist she is no more important than anyone else, that her life is the same value as any of their comrades. He knows if given the choice she’d sacrifice that same life without any regret—hell, he watched her try to do just that today.

That knowledge—and the reality of what is happening behind that door in front of him, the image of the light in her eyes dying—steals his breath.

Will that be his last memory of her? A broken body pulled from a wreckage?

Very real terror grips him then, something he hasn’t felt in years. A close, clawing sensation and his lungs constricting as something jagged forms in his throat. Nightmares of blood in the streets, blood in his hands and the rush of a waterfall in the background, the chirping of lightning in his ears—

“Sasuke.”

His head jerks up, the world around him returning, senses no longer going haywire to stave off the incoming panic.

Kakashi is standing beside him—when did he get here?—eyes somber. There’s a beat before he reaches out, hesitant, and lays a hand on his shoulder.

It’s as if a current is going through him, memories from long ago, that same hand on his shoulder. It’s the first time Kakashi has reached out to him since he left Konoha as a child.

“I’ve had news from Naruto,” his former instructor continues. “He’s found Tsunade.”

And somehow with those three words, every bit of tension in Sasuke’s body evaporates. He realizes he hasn’t been breathing and tries his best not to gulp for air, forces himself to inhale slowly through his nose, to not lose his composure.

Kakashi, of course, is not fooled. “Sakura will be alright. She’s strong.”

Sasuke wants to reply that he knows, he’s always known, but his tongue is still frozen. Instead, he returns his gaze upon the door, trying to sense what is happening beyond it.

He feels Kakashi remove his hand, but the man’s intense stare remains on him.

“I should go,” he eventually manages to say. Yet his legs refuse to move.

“You should stay. You’re exactly where you need to be.”

“I’m not—”

“You’re exactly where she needs you to be.”

Sasuke’s protest dies before it was truly born, and he goes back to trying to breath. Inhale and hold; exhale and repeat. It doesn’t matter what he needs or wants, after all.

Why?

Sakura is Sakura. Yes, they have always had a connection, a bond, but it’s the same connection he’s had with the rest of his former squad. You can’t go on missions or into battle with one another without developing a synchronicity. Even if the connections are different.

With Kakashi it’s the kindred spirit of someone who has lost everything almost the same as he has, with Naruto it’s a bond that can never be replicated for the most complicated of cosmic reasons.

And yet…with Sakura, there’s something different there.

He always thought it was nostalgia, the last lingering remnants of a weak child desperate for whatever scrap of affection was offered to him after losing his parents. Every moment he’s ever spent with her, he pretended like it didn’t affect him at all; and yet, there was always that eagerness he had to tamp down, wanting to see the smile on her face because he knew he didn’t deserve it.

A smile he missed in the years training with Orochimaru, then wandering the world in penance. He knows she’s had feelings for him since they were children, and has has spent most of his last years hoping against hope that she’ll let him go and move on.

That she’ll find someone else, someone worthy of her, someone who will keep her safe and guard her heart against pain. Because that’s all he can give her is pain; tht, and a soul that will never completely heal.

Except it wont matter, will it, if she dies?

She’ll be gone, and he’ll be empty again. No matter where he goes, he’s always known that somewhere, Sakura is out there, keeping him in her heart. He knows that even if she does find another, there will always be a part of her that thinks of him, just like he will always have a part of him that thinks of her.

But if she dies…if she doesn’t make it through this…

Suddenly he can see it.

Years stretch out in front of him, bleak and empty and gray. Visits to a gravestone of a life that could have been. Regrets and pain and an endless void of existing instead of living.

More of everything he endured as a child, only this time, without the tiny ray of sunlight that Sakura willingly gave him.

And suddenly, he realizes he doesn’t want that.

A world without Sakura in it, is not one that he wants to be a part of.

He wants her—needs her—to be happy. And if her happiness is him…if he could ensure that happiness somehow…

Well, he’ll do whatever it takes.

Sasuke takes a shuddering breath at the realization.

It feels sudden, like a switch has been flipped with realization, and yet at the same time he knows it has always been this way.  

He’s in love with Sakura.

The world returns then in sharp focus, ignorant to the realizations he’s just made. Kakashi is still eyeing him with concern. Perhaps wondering if he’s going to have to talk him out of leaving the hospital, even though Sasuke knows that he’s not going anywhere until he can watch her open her eyes again.

Until she smiles at him again.

Maybe not even then.

“I’ll wait for her then,” he says, shaken but still somehow managing to control the timbre of his voice. He leans against the wall, eyes once more resting on the door in expectation.

I’ll wait for her forever.

終わり

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栗

[oureuphoria]

Worst of You - JJK 05

You meet him under horrible circumstances but that doesn’t stop you from developing a very abnormal and completely unsolicited crush on your local hot police officer™. Too bad you have a bitch of a best friend, anxiety and an inability to learn from your mistakes which cripples your chances to be with the man of your literal dreams. Oh, and he has a lifetime’s worth of emotional baggage at 23.

Or

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong.” “Cool, I’ll let everyone know that you’re moving in then.”

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy

Pairing: officer!jungkook X  collegestudent!reader

Word count: 2,521

Note: If you don’t imagine that vine of the kid taking a sip of his mother alcohol when Y/N takes a sip of the wine then I will be very disappointed. 

| 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 |

It was 3:15 and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen. You decided to play a game to distract yourself but you (ironically) lost track of time prompting you to completely miss Jungkook’s arrival which prompted him to watch you curse at geometry dash for a good 7 minutes. He cleared his throat to get your attention which startled you, enough so to have you fumble your phone to the ground with a loud bang that had a couple of people looking your way.

“So, where’s my congratulations cake?” You asked while simultaneously checking your phone for blemishes. Fortunately, the screen wasn’t cracked, unlike your cool moments ago. “The best I can do is a muffin, take it or leave it.” You giggled in response but the sound mellowed down into a soft silence. It wasn’t awkward at first but you quickly got fidgety under his stare.

“So I needed at least 90% to maintain my 4.0 GPA but I got 89.9% and my professor refuses to round it. Can you arrest him for that?” The question may have sounded playful but you were in no way kidding. One more slip up and you could kiss your scholarship goodbye. “No. Y/N, 89% is great, don’t stress.” You nodded with a forced smile that Jungkook hadn’t noticed (or if he did, he didn’t comment on it) and for that you were grateful.

“Look, I know this is kind of sudden but I need a favour?” You hummed in reply, gesturing for him to continue. “Do you think you could baby sit my kids.” You dropped your phone again in shock and Jungkook facepalmed in shame. “My brother’s kids! Not mine, I don’t have kids.” He reached for your phone while you did and your hands touched for what could be described as a split second. You - being the melodramatic pre-teen that you are - had to suppress the urge to squeal at the very minor touch.

“How old are they?” You loved kids (aged 3-9) but babies scared you and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with them. “My niece is 7 and my nephew is 4.” “I can babysit them but are you sure your brother won’t mind?” Jungkook winced at the mention of his brother. He was quiet for a moment before he started shaking his head disapprovingly. “We just won’t tell him.” His fear was almost comical and you would’ve laughed if you weren’t afraid the sound would break him.

“They’ll be in good hands. Trust me.” And he did, he just hoped his older brother would too. “So, when am I babysitting them?” “This Friday, if that’s okay? They’re staying with me for the weekend but I have a work dinner scheduled that night so if you could occupy them from around 6-10 that’d be great.” You gave him a thumbs up in approval, mouth full of strawberry cheesecake. “Thank’s Y/N. I owe you.”  

You didn’t mean to leave your roommate in the dark about the two children that would be occupying your dorm for a few hours but the entire ordeal slipped your mind. In fact, when Jungkook showed up on Friday, you had been completely unprepared. “Oh, hello…” You waved at the kids who moved to hide behind their uncles legs - an act you remember doing before you were too big to hide behind people. Once your eyes had trailed down though, your focus shifted to Jungkook’s gorgeous thighs and your thoughts took a sharp 180. He was clad in black trousers and a slightly unbuttoned dress shirt and to say you weren’t practically drooling over him would be a lie.

“Okay, Luna take care of your brother. Alan, don’t break anything.” He lectured them cutely and you wondered how he ever managed to yell at hardened criminals with that soft face but you’d seen him mad and he definitely wasn’t a force to be reckoned with. The children nodded dutifully and you couldn’t help but smile. They were so small and cute and you were quickly finding yourself becoming quite excited to hang out with them.

“They both haven’t had dinner yet but you can feed them anything, Luna is really well behaved but she can be a bit sassy. Alan has an issue with grabbing random things but if he gets too out of hand just give him his iPad in his bag, he’ll know what to do. Okay, thank you so much. I have to go, bye!” Jungkook spoke so fast that you almost questioned if he spoke at all. You turned to the kids with a sheepish smile and a simple question to break the tension. “So, who want’s to play Just Dance?”

After a night of G-rated video games, McDonald’s and a very self-indulgent amount of baby Yoda, both kids were finally asleep on your couch and Alex had just gotten home. “Hey, who are the kids?” She quietly set her keys down before walking to the kitchen to get a glass of water, her eyes trained on the mini people draped over your couch. “They’re kids I’m babysitting; for a friend.” She nodded absentmindedly and you assumed from her quiet demeanour that something was off. You decided to ignore it. “So, um, we have a dorm inspection in a month. You should probably clean your room.” She waved you off with a nod and a flick of the wrist while she made her way to her room. You sighed and looked at the sleeping kids. “She’s not going to clean her room is she?” You whispered to particularly no one.

It was around 11pm when Jungkook eventually showed up. He scooped both of the sleeping kids into his arms and bid you farewell without a second to spare. The apartment suddenly felt empty and a nagging headache began to become apparent.

You let yourself fall back onto the couch with a huff, this was the life you were destined for. You were everyone’s second choice. The back-up plan, the plan B. You were a constant in a world that was continuously changing and yet you weren’t even a good one. You couldn’t dwell over your uselessness for long though. You had a paper to write and feelings for Jungkook that you needed to get over.

Unfortunately for you, Alex was upset and when Alex is upset she does some pretty reckless things. Like, calling her ex-boyfriend, for example who is now not so quietly comforting her in the only way he knew how. The Jimin way that always - without fail - keeps you awake for far longer than you anticipated.

You walked into your morning class the following day with a giant cup of coffee and a pair of sunglasses to hide the pain that glowed in your baggy eyes. You couldn’t keep the glasses on during the class though and just as you took them off, Jimin rushed to make a snarky comment.

“You look like death today.” “I blame your high pitched moaning, daddy.” Jimin might’ve been aroused by your use of his (not-so) secret kink but you looked like you wanted him dead and the venom dripping from your voice proved it. “At least I’m getting laid.” You rolled your eyes and decided to not press further. The two of you could argue till the end of time and in that moment you just needed to focus until the end of the class.

After 96 dreadful minutes of your human anatomy teacher’s droning, you managed to make it out of the class alive but not without catching the attention of William who was now chasing you down no matter how hard you avoided his gaze. “Hey, Y/N.” You smiled forcefully and hoped that your exhausted exterior didn��t come off as bitchy - but that was a stretch. “The officer told me that the attacker had no motive for doing what they did, so don’t worry, they’re not out for you or anything.” William smiled, laughing a little at the joke you seriously didn’t mean to crack. Did you even make a joke? You needed sleep, and fast.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same. You continued plaguing your college campus like a cast member of the walking dead with barely any purpose and motivation. Because the world hated you, you didn’t get home until 6pm and your exhaustion pretty much decided you’d be skipping lunch and dinner for whatever semblance of sleep you could get.

You were in the midst of brushing your teeth through the dull ache of your tiredness (because dental hygiene is important, you’re not scared of the dentist), when there was a knock on your door. You assumed it was Alex who had a history for forgetting her keys but when you opened the door, clad in iron man themed pyjamas, you were met with Jungkook who was visibly, not Alex.

You might’ve asked something like why he was here or how he got through the building door but your toothbrush was still in your mouth and the situation was getting awkward. “Get dressed, I’m taking you to dinner.” You gave him a weird look as you held your hand out to ask him to wait. You rushed to the bathroom to finish brushing your teeth before returning to the door which Jungkook was leaning on to tell him, “but I brushed my teeth.”

Jungkook scoffed at your excuse with both astonishment and annoyance. “It’s 6pm.” He retorted while his eyes skimmed your very small dorm to sit on your even smaller chair. “I wasn’t planning on eating!” He waved you off before taking out his phone. “Go get dressed so I can repay you for the babysitting.” You gave him a small glare, although you were hungry, you were more tired and all you wanted to do was sleep. “Couldn’t you have just given me $20 like any other person?” Jungkook doesn’t move his stare off his phone while he replies. “Where’s the fun in that? Now go get changed.”

You stuck your tongue out at him (even though you knew he couldn’t see it) before stomping off to your room to change into something more appropriate. Judging by Jungkook’s choice of fancy attire, this was probably going to be some fancy restaurant where you couldn’t pronounce anything and everything cost more than your rent so you decided to wear a light pink dress. You didn’t spend that long getting ready, in fact 90% of the time you were trying to fit all of your necessities into a tiny (impractical) purse because it was the fanciest thing you owned.

“You seriously wore a dress with sneakers?” Sure, expecting a compliment or a simple wow, Y/N may have been a little delusional but you certainly were not expecting him to insult your precious pink Fila disruptors. You didn’t reply as you trudged behind him with a scowl on your face.

“Where are we going, anyway?” You asked with a voice laced with annoyance as you stepped into his terrifyingly fancy car. You didn’t even want to know how much that thing costs to insure. He didn’t answer your question which you found pretty rude but the glare on his face stifled any complaint you were going to make. You watched Jungkook drive which would’ve been a lot more innocent if he wasn’t smirking every 3 minutes and annoying you even more.

The entire drive was composed of awkward silence and unanswered questions before he eventually he pulled into  bright driveway before getting out handing his keys to the man who ran the valet service.

Wait, valet service?

“This looks expensive, honestly I would’ve been fine with the $20.” You whispered to Jungkook before you walked inside but all he did was chuckle. “Y/N, it’s fine, it’s just a restaurant.” That, was a blatant lie. It was one of the most renowned Italian restaurants in New York and it was incredibly hard to get into but of course you didn’t know that so you were up for a pleasant surprise once you opened the menu.

“Oh shit, this is no-price-on-the-menu fancy.” You whispered to no one in particular but Jungkook picked up on the incoherent sound. “What?” “Nothing!” You quickly squeaked out. You were not going to let a simple menu intimidate you. Unfortunately, the entire thing was in Italian and you failed all the language classes that you took in high school.

“Order whatever you want, yeah?” Jungkook was hoping you weren’t intimidated by the prices but unbeknownst to him, that was the last of your concerns. You nodded slowly; too focused on trying to comprehend what the menu said. “You know what, I’ll just get whatever you get.” Jungkook looked at you with masked concern that you wouldn’t have been able to notice if not for his revealing eyes.  “Why? Do you not like Italian?” “No, it’s not that. I just don’t know what’s good here so, I trust you.” You lied straight through your teeth with a cunning smile that even had you fooled. Jungkook nodded and didn’t say much more. “Well, I usually get the steak.” You could feel the panic settling in. You hated steak - with a passion.

“I lied, I don’t know how to read this menu at all.” You blurted out before he could call the waiter and braced yourself for his degrading laugh. He did laugh but you were thankful for his guidance after. He explained pretty much the entire menu to you before you decided on getting some kind of pasta.

After Jungkook had ordered, (you’d rather stay out ordering food unless it’s completely necessary) another waiter followed quickly after and asked if you wanted any wine. Jungkook nodded but the waiter assumed it was for the both of you so he poured you a glass as well. You watched Jungkook’s eyes widen in fear when he noticed but before he could say anything the waiter was on his way. You looked at the glass with obvious fascination that Jungkook was positive on shutting down.

“Y/N if you drink that I will literally arrest you right here." “Yikes, okay, I’m sorry.” Your apology was sarcastic but he relaxed nonetheless; a mistake, on his part, because you were immediately picking up the glass to take a sip anyway. “Y/N!” You didn’t hear Jungkook berating you over the deafening scream of your tongue as the disgusting liquid went down your throat. “That was horrible, how can you drink that?” You spoke through your coughing fit while Jungkook carefully removed the glass from your grasp, calling a waiter over to take it away and bring back a coke instead. “You’re an idiot and now a convicted felon.”

You gave him a sheepish smile in return. “I was curious…” He shook his head in disapproval but didn’t press further; he found it hard to stay angry at you. You spent the rest of the night trying to make him laugh with your really (subjectively) funny dad jokes. He didn’t laugh but you blamed it on his dead sense of humour which Jungkook thought was a reasonable excuse.

“Y/N.” You cocked your head up to look at him with a frustrated expression. Who knew pasta was so hard to eat? “What?” You tried to say though it came out muffled as you tried to eat. “It’s sad watching you eat.” “It’s not my fault the pasta is so slippery!” He grabbed the fork out of your hand and effortlessly spun the pasta around your fork. You scoffed in astonishment but Jungkook decided to ignore your frustration. “Open.” You felt like a toddler, Jungkook (a grown man) was feeding you (an allegedly grown woman) pasta because you couldn’t figure out how the mechanism worked.

After you finished eating, the room was engulfed with an awkward silence. The distant voices and the clatter of cutlery filled the void although it wasn’t nearly enough. “So, you up for dessert?” You shook your head quickly, you were so exhausted you could’ve sleep right on the uncomfortable chair. “I’m too full.” Jungkook nodded and asked a waiter for the bill. You curiously tried to take a peek at the total but Jungkook snatched the bill towards him before you had the chance. “Think of it as payment for taking care of my niece and nephew.” It seemed like a little too much for just babysitting but you knew there was no point in arguing with him.

The entire car ride was quiet. You were too busy trying to conjure up the courage to ask Jungkook out (properly) and Jungkook was too busy trying not to crash the car. The moment his car was in front of your building, you blurted out the question before you could stop yourself. “Jungkook, can I ask you a question?” He was a taken aback by the abrupt question but he nodded nonetheless.

“I um… I like you, a lot and I just don’t want to get my hopes up and expect anything from you because that’s unfair and of course I don’t expect anything now I just…” You trailed off once you realised you had been rambling but  Jungkook didn’t seem to notice. His expression seemed entirely indifferent and you wondered if you had even confessed at all.

The silence was getting incredibly uncomfortable so you tried to diffuse the situation you had unwillingly created. “It’s fine if you don’t! It’s just a crush. I’ll get over it eventually so really-” Halfway through your rambling, Jungkook crashed his lips onto yours and you froze. Now, you’ve been kissed before, but never like this and the lack of warning shocked you enough to have you accidentally bite the poor man’s lip. “Ow. What the fuck Y/N?” You began apologising profusely while he held his lip and though the mood was definitely ruined, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry! Are you okay?" “I’m fine. Goodnight Y/N.” You were about to leave the car before you quickly turned around and gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then you hurriedly screamed ‘thank you’ and sprinted into your dorm building. Jungkook drove away with his heart heavy and his mind racing. He may have just ruined his entire plan.You on the other hand just realised you never got an answer.

[mcrrisons]

wooo hi friends!! s here FINALLY dropping this intro, you’ll now know that i’m late to everything O:) i have insane muse for this type of character so i’m sooo excited to be here! any questions lmk but now ........... *rubs hands together like a fly* let’s get to plotting

@mapleviewstarters​

『 travis fimmel. fourty-six. cismale. he/him. 』 oh heavens, is that WELLS MORRISON from CHESTNUT DRIVE i see roaming around mapleview? minnie may’s always calling them -BELLIGERENT & -CONTRITE. i happen to think they’re not that bad! they’re a pretty cool at COLLECTING UNEMPLOYMENT and every time i’ve seen them, they’ve always been +CAPTIVATING & +OPEN-MINDED. i hope i see them around again! 

TW: ALCOHOLISM, DEATH, ABUSE

GETTING TO KNOW WELLS

full name: wells irving morrison

age / birthdate / sign: 45 / november 18, 1974 / scorpio

gender / pronouns: cismale / he/him

orientation: hetero

height: 6′2″

hair color: dirty blond, some gray growing in

tattoos: a lot of drunken tats over the years, either cheap ones or ones that his buddies did for him for free. most of the actual WANTED ones covered up some scars he chose to ignore

drinks / smokes / drugs: big yes to all, no one left behind - but alcohol and cigarettes daily as those are more acceptable and easier to get

occupation: although collecting unemployment from the government, he often has plenty of odd jobs to make money under the books. 

residence: mapleview, born and raised. still lives in the same plot of houses his great great bought / built years ago.

alignment: chaotic evil (but he tries his best............ ok)

parents: hank (deceased) & caroline morrison 

siblings: 2 brothers (jeremiah & tucker) and 1 sister (addison) that he KNOWS of

children: lane morrison (intro here), and probably a few others but that’s for future plots!!

WHAT’S HIS STORY ?

wells’ blood runs thick through this town to a long line of morrisons, and they sure as hell make SURE everyone knows it. rumors have flown around about the morrison family for generations, eyes roll when they enter a space (at least in wells’ experience) & they own a reputation of chaos. scaring away newcomers just by being themselves. and of course, like it was in his dna, wells’ actions would align with those that preceded him.

he grew up on a plot of land bought many moons ago by his great great ... grandfather / uncle /  (the story changes every time he hears it) w/ a few trailer-like one story homes with broken screen doors & random “antiques” in the yard aka things that people in fair lane were throwing out that everyone THOUGHT would be needed one day. (still lives here btw!!!)

growing up around family was FINE but it reminded him of his destination - what he was going to end up like anyway, DESPITE being kinda smart in school & having larger dreams. the family was scrappy, deceitful; wells learned at an early age how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. he was taught how to STEAL, lie, charm, and how to get by with what they had.

wells spent most of his childhood at his uncle’s home, just a few minute walk away on the plot bc his own home wasn’t ideal. he looked up to the guy A LOT, but hasn’t spoken since he left mapleview for bigger and better things when wells was just 15.

his father, a returned drafted vietnam vet, took out the anger of what he witnessed / how he was treated / how life was UNFAIR out on his family, and often times physically. he wasn’t involved in wells’ life all too much, only when he needed something or wanted to let off some steam. 

his mother was a caring & loving woman, also mapleview grown (the two had been high school sweethearts), but loyal to a FAULT, always choosing her husband to back. 

screams, crashes, fights, fires - you name it. needless to say, that plot of morrison homes never had it quiet, easy. cops knew everyone by first and last name and could drive the route from the station to the morrison’s home with their eyes closed.

wells’ father DIED when he was 19 (although wells hadn’t considered him alive for a while) & no one knew HOW so there was never any closure for him, his mother, his fam... all his death provided was another source for the rumor mill surrounding the morrisons. was it a bad bar fight ? did he have a bad fall ? wrong pills ? some say his mother was a killer but he knew better than that.

wells’ mother is still live & somewhat well, living with his brother in a house about 20 minutes away. at her old age, it’s hard for her to do things on her own and it was decided that wells - the youngest of his generation - wouldn’t be able to care after her, let alone care for himself. she’s been there for about 10 years now and still complains every minute.

ok back to our boy. somehow wells managed to destroy every good thing that ever came his way. self-destructive due to self-hatred and REGRET which never got better as he got older and continued to well, destroy things. a slippery slope, for sure.

alongside his uncle, always dreaming of getting out of this small town, wells was good ENOUGH at school and that was his way. but of course it didn’t happen: 1. he fell into fulfilling prophecy of his predecessors, 2. he had not a PENNY to his name to leave (i.e. gambling addiction), 3. he had a child in his early twenties, 4. he tried to fight the admissions counselor at the nearby community college

having some sort of love in his life. didn’t happen: 1. he pushed/pushes everyone that dare get too close (mostly selfishly), 2. couldn’t change his addictive personality (i.e. alcoholism), 3. began to resemble his father, 4. has 0 emotional intelligence and cannot touch feelings/emotions

to get a job and be a normal person in society. didn’t happen bc: 1. has a narcissist complex, 2. would steal from the cash register, 3. would hit on customers, 4. doesn’t understand paying “taxes”

more to add here

BASICALLY, he’s lived a life. he acts as though his life is already over, there’s nothing to lose, nothing to gain and this is just how it will be for the rest of his time on earth. he’s despondent and lives far too much in the PAST, blaming himself for everything that came his way (but ok he’s not too far off tbh).

although MANY a regret linger in his mind before sleep, his largest regret is losing his family - the love of his life who LEFT the two high and dry just after about a year together and his son who moved out at just 16. the mother of his child was the only person he remembers that saw him for more than rumors, his facade and became a good influence to him - but OF COURSE he fucked that one up and she left. he blames himself big time, but would never show that. only hatred her way aloud. 

his son, lane, left while still a boy just like himself, and it HURT to think that the apple hardly fell from the tree above, not able to be a good father. never TAUGHT how to be one. manipulative to a fault, wells would always say the younger was never appreciative, never UNDERSTOOD... and he’d convince himself that his son hated him as much as he hates himself. he’ll also say he’s the only reason he’s still alive. LOVE / HATE seems to blur so often for the old man here. always did.

the only constant throughout his life has been alcohol. the morrison’s start off early of course, and wells was drinking/etc on his own by the time he was 12. UNLESS you count the bourbon his father would feed him to sleep as a baby. what started off as social and partying as he grew older, became something much more ugly. his body didn’t just crave it, it NEEDED it to function by the time he was in his early twenties. it was easier to hide it then, all young and into a good time but it wouldn’t just last for weekends. he’d need a drink to get by mentally, and physically and became fully dependent. a depressant to match his mental illness.

WHO IS HE ?

he has a DEEP southern accent with a hard RASP that sounds as though he smokes a pack a day (because he does). 

despite graduating high school (i KNOW, believe it), he doesn’t have a vocabulary too wide and will use larger words incorrectly all the time.

can have a bit of an old grumpy man aesthetic, easily belligerent, even though he’s only in his 40s and can be charming as hell too (that smile!!!! ok!!! knows how to manipulate.)

he doesn’t trust the government at ALL and is a bit of a conspiracy theorist, despite collecting money from the government each week for unemployment. he refuses to pay taxes so only does jobs under the books. will go on a tangent about how the government is creating diseases, hiding aliens; eat the rich, etc... he also doesn’t trust cops at all, despite being picked up and taken home by them at least once a week.

grew up on rock and roll! had a band in the 80s where he could’ve SWORN they’d be rich and famous. long hair, tight pants, acting out - wannabe motley crue.

drives (ILLEGALLY) an old ford from the 70′s that somehow still works, after losing his license years ago from too many DWIs. 

i assume all of the town knows him as the town DRUNK. maybe it used to be funny back in the day, but now it’s just really SAD. he’s a nuisance. 

WHO DOES HE KNOW ?

y/c HIRED him for some odd jobs, must be under the table.

HIGH SCHOOL BUDDIES who also stayed around mapleview. they can be friendly, enemies now, distanced, a lot to do here.

a BROTHER / step (which i might submit to the main :))

a ONE-NIGHT stand

a GOOD INFLUENCE who tries their best to get him working towards something better. fair warning, this would 9.99/10 times not work.

where wells is the BAD INFLUENCE to y/c, convincing them to drink a ton, giving horrible advice when they’re in their most vulnerable state.

a STORE OWNER that has banned wells from entering their establishment due to a prior mishap.

a DEALER of all things wells shouldn’t, but does.

THE HILLS by the weeknd - a plot where these two are hooking up or together but only in secret. whether that’s because they’re in different socioeconomic classes, have a bad history, the other is cheating... they have to hide.

WHITE KNUCKLES - they’ve previously had a bar fight, are known enemies. could’ve been something said about his family, his past.

[necropxlis]

A Cure to a Broken Heart - (Alistair x Elana Cousland)

A/N: So I had a random thought today and I got super inspired to write something about it. I haven’t written in years and it obviously shows lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy I don’t know how long it will be just yet. I will just write until I am satisfied. Please enjoy my piece of crap that I wrote! ^.^

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Seven years.

Seven years of peace within the kingdom of Ferelden. Seven years of standing by the love of her life. Seven years since she lost her parents in a coup and was forced to join the Grey Wardens. Seven years since she sacrificed everything and saved the world. Seven years of whispers and distant stares. Wondering when the royal couple will bear an heir. When the voice would call their king and queen into the forsaken Deep roads to waste away their days.

For years after their marriage and coronation, the nobles have constantly questioned when would an heir to the throne be born. The queen would merely smile and say she prayed to the Maker that it would be soon. The king would look at his wife with nothing but, what other people say is, love and admiration; but those who knew him well knew that sadness lingered in his eyes. Those who were close to the couple knew of their struggle with the fear of the future. The Calling. The one obstacle that the Hero of Ferelden could not overcome, could not defeat. The one thing standing in between their happiness.

“I think you should take a Mistress.”

Alistair froze and stared at his wife. His eyes bore confusion and then amusement. This had to be some kind of joke. His wife, his rose, would never have uttered something so ridiculous in her lifetime. She was smart and calculated. Cunning when it came to convincing the nobles into agreeing with them. She often played pranks on Alistair when they needed a little something to lighten up their day. Most of all she was in love with him and he was in love with her. This definitely had to be a joke, something to lighten their spirits. 

Laughter erupted from Alistair’s lips, “That’s funny, I thought you were serious for a moment. Yes, love, I will take a mistress and waste away my days in luxury like a true king.”

“Alistair-“

“You can’t be serious, my love. I would never betray you, I would never become my father.”

The queen sighed and motioned for Alistair to come closer to her. She grabbed his hands and looked at him with nothing but sadness in her eyes. Furrowing his brows, he tried to understand the reasoning behind her words. Was he not good enough for her anymore? Did she think she wasn’t enough for him? Did she want a divorce? He began to pray, to beg, to the Maker that she would not leave him.

“Alistair, you need an heir. Something I can’t give you. Please, take a mistress, or find another wife. Someone who can give you an heir. I’ll step down and-“

“Stop.“ he interrupted, “Don’t go any further.”

Alistair tore himself away from his wife and began to pace around the room. His hand roamed through his hair and down his face. His wife stared as he began to make dents in the floor with his constant moving. Wringing her fingers as her anxiety began to build. She had to make her thoughts clear. She was a ticking time bomb. Her fuse was running short.

She wanted to be the strong one. She wanted to be the one to end it so he could have the life he always wanted. He deserved a wife who could give him children, he deserved a family that loves him and makes him happy. He deserves everything she can’t give him. Her thoughts plagued her mind. Tears pooled in her blue orbs. The same orbs that her husband dearly loved and often told her he could get lost in them. She began to remember all the happy moments they had.

She realized how selfish she was being. Keeping him to herself all these years when he could have something better. The words of the nobles haunted her brain for years. She was the worthless daughter of the famed Couslands. How disappointed her parents would be. The wild Cousland daughter turned to be nothing but a fake. A woman who can’t give her husband a child to carry on the legacy. Useless. Good for nothing. Incompetent.

A cry tore from her delicate lips. The once strong hero could no longer keep her composure. Her walls that she had built up for years had shattered, like tossing a rock at a mirror. Alistair froze at the sound of his wife’s heart breaking more and more. She lowered her head to rest against a pillow so her cries were muffled. Her tears flowed like a river in the springtime, after the long months of being frozen in the winter. Fists tightly gripped the thin piece of cloth covering the woolen mass beneath her. Knuckles as white as freshly fallen snow. The stone walls echoed with each desperate cry. The anguish of a woman who will probably never know the struggles of carrying a life for nine months.

“Elana.”

At the sound of her name, the woman slowly opened her eyes to gaze at her husband. Alistair looked just as broken as she did. He knew the weight on her heart was heavy. The rumors of her being barren and not competent enough to give him what the kingdom desired most. He might not be the brightest star in the sky, but when it came to his wife he knew her better than she knew herself. What he could not fathom, was how badly this had affected her. Taking slow strides as to not scare her, Alistair gathered the broken woman into his arms. Brushing her hair away from her face, he saw just how this had haunted her. Her features had grown thin and pale. While he was blinded by happiness, he struggled to notice that his wife was suffering.

"Elana, I don't care about having an heir to carry on our legacy. The lords and ladies of wherever can kindly suck it." Alistair said placing a kiss to her forehead.

A small chuckle escaped from her cracked lips, "But you deserve to be happy."

The man scoffed and stared at her. This woman went to hell and back for them, for the world. She was the strongest person he had ever met and she carried his heart in her hands. If anything he was the one unworthy of such a wonderful human being. Elana accepted him for who he was, bastard prince, and all of his other baggage. She laughed at all his jokes and played along with him at times. She was his rock in the windy storm. Her blue eyes stared into his soul, begging, pleading him to just go along with whatever she was asking of him. But he was stubborn and was not going to let the only source of light leave his life.

"I am happy. Wherever you are, I am happy. We could be killing darkspawn for the rest of our lives in the godforsaken Deeproads, or we could be here ruling a kingdom and playing dress-up every day. As long as you are with me, I am happy." he said placing a strand of curly hair behind her ear.

A small smile crept up both of their faces. The love that each of them had for the other would be strong enough to overcome this battle. Time might not be on their side, but as long as they had each other, they would survive in this cruel world. Their love will shine through their darkest days.

But where there is light, there is also darkness.

Their days may have gotten better, their smiles may have lasted longer, but fear is a nasty enemy. It feeds and it feeds until it consumes that persons every being. Until that person no longer has any sense of humanity.Ripping the seal off of the crumpled letter, Elana slowly unfolded its contents. She was tired of being someone she wasn't, tired of fooling herself and her husband. If she wanted a future for the kingdom and her own selfish reasons, she would have to get her hands dirty once again. Scanning the parchment of every sentence it contained, something akin to a spark of hope rose inside of her. Maybe there was a way, a way for everything to work out in their favor. She needed answers. She needed to visit a certain witch.

"Dear Elana,

I have kept an eye on Morrigan for a while now, as I would for all of my friends. I am only doing this because if anyone can find the cure, it will be you. I have enclosed the coordinates to her location, may you find some answers to your questions. I will keep my ear to the ground for any new information I find and send it your way. Please be safe, I don't know what would happen if we lost you. One close call is one too many. My scouts will be watching.

Lilianna."

Her time has come. She would leave behind her life of comfort to seek what they have wished for years.

Elana would find a cure for the Calling.

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A/N: If you made it this far I appreciate you. Anyways I hope you enjoyed!