#there's Meaning for Nil leaving these places behind too.

[chloefraazers]

nil + in the flood | Horizon Forbidden West (2022) footage from hfwpc by @kittleskittle

[nelithic]

　𝐚𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐚 ,　𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 　/　drabble ₊

"if imitation is required, then so be it. nil's safety is all that concerns me."

we would never be human, my brother and i. we could never hope to pass. even as i said these words to the divine dragon, i recognized that it was concession only. we needed somewhere to stay, a place to rest our weary forms, and regain our strength to continue on. i would make any placations and reassurances necessary to ensure this, so long as we needed it, and leave them behind when it was no longer of use. such simple falsehoods were common, a quotidian tool to dull the fangs of the prowling and jealous until another day. they would still come, of course. just as we would still depart.

　　　　——— ⟢　

we would never come close to human, my twin and i. their faces made this clear. the divine dragon was hopeful and naive, and believed baselessly in our ability to make ourselves at home because, they assured us, they had been able to do the same.

on many occasions, i said to them: "that success is owed in part to your nature as a divine dragon. you underestimate the strength of a systematic distrust."

always, they would reply that my ' systematic distrust ' could only be dismantled by time and visibility, that given enough show of good intent, the others would have no choice but to accept us. i expressed that nil and i were not here to give shows of our intent, nor was it vital to us to earn the humans' trust. we had no interest in becoming the ' good ' fell dragons for others to praise.

always, they frowned. and i was unable to tell if my words had disappointed or saddened them.

　　　　——— ⟢　

"so, why the lance?"

a curious voice broke through the haze of sweat, exertion, and the punishing summer heat. i looked down to my bruised hands, to chastened palms rough and raw from the abrasion of wood, and planted the training weapon point-down in the ground between us to rest. it was as much an acknowledgement of their question as it was a wordless statement to come no closer, and in this single gesture simultaneously provided answer.

"i thought you said you wouldn't fit in."

"i have not."

and this was not untrue. seasons had passed, and nil and i had still not found a more remote, more willing sanctuary. and the faces had not changed. still we undertook tasks together and together only, at times with the divine one for company and otherwise a solemn and happy pair. for though there were those in the army who may stomach us one or the other, both at a time set them ill at ease. i did not fault them, for it did likewise for me. and i would not let nil alone, whose blood was too gentle still to wield steel against soft humanity should they strike first.

"my brother has made some progress with his axe. with a spear, i possess another means with which to protect him."

"ah," the divine one said, as though this was expected, though there appeared to me a distinct hope that there was more to be revealed. i sensed a certain expectation — that it had been a natural decision to complement the preferences of those around me: my brother's hatchets; the divine dragon's sword.

but i would disappoint. the consideration had never occurred to me; only that, of the options available, the spear proved most versatile. to slash, to pierce, to strike bluntly, close or at distance; to be thrown, and lighter weight than an axe.

and above all, to keep the enemy at bay, and nil behind me.

i turned the human weapon on the divine one now to demonstrate this. their startled blue eyes shone wide beneath the sun. "facing your sword will assist me in improving quickly. three seconds and i will attack."

　　　　——— ⟢　

we could never have been human, my other half and i. after all, the humans had all taken their leave, what few remained of them, splintered and swept away like shards of glass.

and now it was quieter than it had ever been — in gradlon or amid the army camps.

regardless of what we intended, we had become the ' good ' fell dragons in the end. some of their faces had eventually changed because of this; others had not. i wondered whether seeing this had satisfied the divine one, had made them believe we had indeed managed to fit in with time and visibility; i had never had the chance to ask. regarding the fresh grave now, the spotless stone, the clean engraving, i felt that so long as this may have perhaps been true, my own intentions ceased to matter. and the praise and judgment of others ceased to matter.

my hands were once again bruised, raw from battle though the old callouses had long faded, and i tried to summon the memory of them again through vision too clear to be appropriate. i willed my eyes to weep, and it did not come. i gave that to nil instead, asked him to weep for both of us.

the spear drove point-down in the grass between the two of us once more, beside the pedestal's simple tomb, as though the iron sought the one who rested beneath it like a compass needle.

i could not reach. my hands could not reach. my tears could not reach.

yet with this lance, i may . . .

. . .

　 【　nel has mastered halberdier　】

　

　┃┃┃　

▀▀ 　BOTANICAL HEADCANONS　₊　|　abatina : is there anything in life your muse has changed their mind about over time ( due to becoming more educated on the topic , certain experiences , etc .) , or that they would change their mind about under certain circumstances ?　|　asked by @heriteur

[iviarellereads]

Fugitive Telemetry, Chapter 1

(Curious what I'm doing here? Read this post! For the link index and a primer on The Murderbot Diaries, read this one! Like what you see? Send me a Ko-Fi.)

In which we get to fill in some more gaps in the timeline.

Murderbot scans a dead human, and determines they've been dead for probably about four hours. Mensah seems skeptical, even after receiving MB's report on how it arrived on that figure, and watches Indah for her reaction. MB sees it on the feeds from its new intel drones, rather than its own vision.(1)

The corridor isn't very well-traveled, but it is a weird place to get killed. Anywhere on Preservation Station would be, come to that. Accidental death is close to nil, and the overall threat assessment for murder is at just 7%, the lowest it can be anywhere people and MB are.(2) And yet, a dead body, on the floor.

Just as Indah's finished the report, and is also skeptical, a tech comes in, saying they estimate time of death about four hours ago. Indah sighs. MB asks if there's an ID, since the dead person's feed interface is broken. The tech, Tural, looks to Indah for permission first, then confirms there was nothing scannable on or in the body to indicate ID.

Indah looks dissatisfied, so Tural says they have to wait for Medical to scan the body to match against visitor entry log scans, and Medical isn't here yet because it's the school's preventive health check day. Indah asks if Tural told them it's an emergency, but they say they did, and Medical said it's only an emergency until a pronouncement of death.(3)

Mensah stops Indah from going too much on a rant about what she'll do, and says she'll talk to Medical, as planetary leader, to convey that it's not accidental and it is an emergency. The ports have been closed, at least. She also asks Tural if they're sure the dead person is a visitor, or if they might be local. Tural says they assumed visitor, but no confirmation.

MB interprets Mensah's face to mean she doesn't think anyone's doing a very good job of this. MB thinks Station Security is out of its depth, since Preservation is typically so peaceful. Indah doesn't look much more impressed, and tells Tural to keep working on an ID.

Tural takes off to escape the blast radius before Indah blows up, and Mensah's look grows more pointed. Indah throws her hands in the air and says fine, she'll go talk about it. So, Mensah, Indah, and MB leave the corridor, and step behind a plant in the nearby junction.

MB scans the area for listening devices, and Indah asks if it has experience with murders. MB admits to some. Mensah privately asks MB if it thinks this was GrayCris. It thinks maybe, but tells her it doesn't have enough info yet.

Still privately, Mensah asks it to work this investigation with Station Security.(4) She adds that it will be a great opportunity, even if it's not about GrayCris. MB replies that they don't want it, but Mensah suggests it could help improve MB's relationship with Station Security and thus Preservation Alliance, if it wants to call it home. MB knows she's right, but it doesn't like it.

Indah is waiting for them to finish whatever private conversation they're having and Mensah's still staring MB down, so it answers Indah's question more thoroughly: yes, it has experience with murder investigations in controlled circumstances. There's some discussion of how "controlled circumstances" means "corporate slave labor camps", before Indah asks if MB is willing to work with StatSec.

MB thinks for a couple pages about how its actual memories of those situations are fuzzy, because they were pre-memory-wipe, but it has watched lots of mystery media, so it probably has 30 to 40% useful knowledge.(5) It asks if they'll increase Mensah's security, per their ongoing debate. Indah says she's increasing every security level, including Mensah's, and doesn't need to be told her job.

Mensah clears her throat and asks Indah if an employment contract will be invoked. Indah says yes, if only to keep "the terrifying solicitor" (Pin-Lee) off her back. MB still doesn't know a lot about being a participant in a contract. It asks if it can examine the dead human now, and Indah asks it to call them "the deceased" or "the victim", please, but leaves before she receives an answer.

She missed Mensah mouthing the words stop it at me. (I guess the feed isn’t adequate for all forms of communication, particularly those that involve a lot of glaring.)(6)

=====

(1) Placing this distinctly after Home. (2) The comment about uninhabited planets still being 7% once Murderbot lands on them is just gold, perfection, no notes. (3) When your main sources of death are accidents and intoxication-related aggression, that probably seems like a really smart triage of resources. Just, y'know, to be fair. (4) The book name explanation comes shockingly early this time: fugitive telemetry is the use of telemetry (recording data at various points) to locate a fugitive. So, it's just a reference to the plot being a murder investigation. They can't all be ten-dimensional chess! (5) This is the most hilarious thing to me in this whole chapter, because it's the CSI effect. (6) I beg to differ. Miki used the feed with emoticons. They can convey an awful lot. 😄🫡😒😡

[stars-written]

At first, she thought she was seeing things. Coruscant was a busy, bustling place, after all. Seeing two people, several meters apart, both heading to the same place was not uncommon. It didn't mean anything. She told herself this, over and over again, as she walked through the marketplace, blue eyes darting across the distance towards the Senator every so often.

And yet, no matter where the Naboo-native went, the figure also seemed to go. Cloaked in shadow and never more than a shop behind, the figure weaved through the crowd to march in time with the woman ahead of her. Nil-rae frowned to herself, a familiar voice whispering at the edges of her mind. Leave it, it said. It's not important. It's not your place. She recognized that voice all too well, deciding, very firmly, to ignore it.

She would be made almost immediately, or she hoped she would, by the entourage following her fellow brunette. A woman like that rarely went anywhere without a following of some kind. But still, she had to make herself known one way or another, even if it meant being dragged away in shackles immediately afterward. Stepping swiftly forward, she approached the representative of Naboo, calling out just loud enough to be heard.

"Senator!" Throwing her empty hands up to prove she had no weapon in her grasp, she paused as two flanking guardsmen stepped between her and the former Queen. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to intrude but..." Her voice dropped and she looked back, straining her gaze to pinpoint where the stranger had gone, unable to see them now that she'd gone and made a scene. Turning back toward Padme, she searched the woman's gaze, insistent in her tone and expression. "I believe there's someone following you."

(@desireandduty liked for a starter!)

[idlechatting]

42. Aries. Isfp-T

Character’s full name: Tudor Marion Alex

Reason or meaning of name: (Alex) Defender of Humankind/ (Marion) Star of the sea; Beloved 

Birth date: March 25, 1980

Good personality traits: Passionate, Empathetic, Artistic

Bad personality traits: Low Self-Esteem, Anxious, Independent 

Character’s soft spot: Dennis, Jasmit, Ines. Musician Nils Frahm. Classical renditions.

Height: 6`0

Hometown: AMS

Current location: MD

Mother: Mariana Tudor (Deceased) Relationship with her: Permissive 

Father: Virgil Tudor Relationship with him: Authoritarian

Type of childhood: Unpredictable. Nurturing. Estranged.

First memory: Alex was 22 traveling with the Julliard Orchestra to Carnegie Hall. This would be Alex’s first time, after rigorous training performing at the hall. After his performance a few musicians decide that the night shouldn't end and suggested going out for drinks. Alex was definitely not read for his high to die down and opted in for a night out. Having traveled back to campus first to put away any of his belongings he got a message from his father that he needed to call him urgently. He’d find out that his mother was in a coma after suffering 2 strokes. Alex would book a flight to Maryland and stay by his mother's side at the hospital. The night before Alex’s father decided to have his mother be pulled from the plug he was told to spend the night in a hotel and get some real rest. The next day, Alex returned to the hospital with his mother not in her room. He had asked the nurse what happened and found out his father pulled her plug earlier that morning. He rushed to his fathers in rage having one of the most explosive arguments he’s ever had with his father. He and his father haven’t spoken since. 

Most important childhood memory: Alex was 12 when his family decided  to move to America. Not that America wasn’t a place he wouldn't mind seeing, but living there and leaving his life was hard for him. Having protested, asking why the move was needed only prompted an irritated Virgil to snap at Alex that he ought to stay in a childs place. Alex would listen, only to leave unannounced in the night to hide away in an area he frequented a lot as a younger child. noon came, and he completely forgot to return home that night. He would hear the call of his father, afraid to come forth knowing the punishment he’d receive. It’s not until his mother goes looking for him, having realized the only place she hadn’t checked was the small hideout he hid as a child. She would find him, smirk, climb inside the tight space, and snicker as Virgil grew frustrated with them both. Without ever communicating, Alex was sure his mom hadn’t told because she understood how he felt about leaving. She too did not like the idea of leaving her life in Amsterdam behind. But, his father wanted the best education for his son to further his musical talent.

Childhood hero: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Dream job: Violinist and Composer

Education: 4yr Doctor of musical arts degree

Smokes: No Drinks: Socially  Other drugs: No

Optimist or pessimist? Introvert or extrovert? Daredevil or cautious? Logical or emotional? Disorderly and messy or methodical and neat? Prefers working or relaxing? Confident or unsure of himself?

Animal lover? Yes.

How he feels about himself: Alex feels like he always has room to improve. Although he can be quite negative on himself or his accomplishments he knows he is a hardworking and diligent person to get what he needs out of life.

One word the character would use to describe self: Growing

One paragraph description of how the character would describe self: He doesn't do well with stress, so much so that he’s found himself stuck completely. When things are good he’s good, showing off his sociable side and  affection he rarely shows, not because it’s hard for him, it’s just he’s usually tucked away at home or not up to talking to people showing himself to be unapproachable. He is a passionate musician, finding most of his contentment playing, listening, and composing music.

What does the character consider his best personality trait? Empathy 

What does the character consider his worst personality trait? Low Self-Esteem

What does the character consider his best physical characteristic? Nose, Eyes, and Hair

What does the character consider his worst physical characteristic? Lips, forehead.

How does the character think others perceive him: Handsome, Moody.

What would the character most like to change about himself: His ability to get stressed easily and his self-esteem.

Best friend(s): Dennis (met in New York during one of Dennis’s travels. Alex was performing at a club during his first years of college. They met, exchanged numbers and had kept in touch. Their bond grew after he lost his mother as Dennis proved to show how much of a great friend he was during his time of need) Jasmit (He used to watch her perform at the club he frequented. Eventually, after watching him perform she came up to him and boldly asked if he wouldn’t mind hanging out with her. He thought she was hitting on him, but she was impressed by his talent and they started jamming together. Till this day they still jam and keep in touch)

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 1, Episode 2

Episode 2 picks up the morning day after the initiation party, the girls are having breakfast lunch at their dorm, the boys at theirs, and everyone wants the juicy details about what happened at the party...

Culture: Tell me more, tell me more, did you get very far? Although, it's pretty funny how the roles are reversed, Maddie is all "meh" about it, while Nils tells a different story. Then again, since when do you get together after a blowjob?

Culture: I actually have no idea why Simon is having breakfast at Skogsbacken, since regular schools only cover lunch for students, everyone eats breakfast at home, and then goes to school. Then again, it allows a scene where (Never mind, they're having lunch, thanks @kamand !) Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm casts some nervous glances at Simon after having been called out for disappearing at the party and almost forced to confess to making out with someone.

Culture: I know Felice is trying to put August down, but don't knock a proper Swedish pizza! As much as I like living in the US, they can't fucking make pizzas here, and the first thing I eat every time I go back to Sweden is always a real pizza. With pineapple and shrimp as God intended pizza to be made!

Culture: August is namedropping ski resorts in the Alps, which is where you go skiing in Europe if you have money, although Saint-Martin-de-Belleville is actually near Val Thorens in France, while Verbier is in Switzerland. It does have a three-star restaurant, though. Sweden and Norway have a couple of decent ski resorts, but the Scandinavian mountain chain is simply not as impressive as the Alps.

Subtext: Remember Wilhelm getting up and hurrying to math class in the beginning of the scene? It was so he could grab the other seat next to Simon, because he knows Simon is gonna sit next to Sara, since no-one else does.

Culture: Formally greeting your teacher before class is very uncommon in Sweden, but since Hillerska is all about discipline and tradition, of course they do it. Note that they're again using the formal Swedish title for male teachers, Magister, which in a regular school would be kind of a joke, since teachers and students are on a first-name basis with each other.

Subtext: Wilhelm is exposing how the world works if you have money. At Simon's old school, studying alone would result in good grades, but Hillerska is slightly corrupt and almost expects the students to essentially pay for getting a good grade.

Subtext: Simon is lying to his teacher, he absolutely hasn't talked to his parents about paying for private lessons.

Subtext: No, Sara absolutely does care about what other people think about her, and when she directly tells Felice that she would actually like some friends, that's when Felice gets it and starts making an effort to become real friends with her.

Culture: They're all bilingual at Simon's home, they're all speaking Spanish and Swedish, although Linda has a very noticeable accent to her Swedish. Based on demographics and statistics, the most likely scenario is that Linda immigrated to Sweden from Chile, met Micke, and started a family. In real life, Omar Rudberg was born in Venezuela and grew up in Sweden, while Carmen Gloria Pérez was born in New York, and grew up in Puerto Rico.

Subtext: Remember how I talked in the intro post about how distant social classes know nothing of each other? Ayub and Rosh are either working class or lower middle class like Simon, and since rowing is a typical upper class sport, they know nothing of it, they don't even think of it as a real sport. Unlike football, which is a proper working class sport, they know all about that!

Subtext: Scandinavia has Jantelagen, and everyone there thinks it's uniquely Scandinavian, but all countries have some form of Tall Poppy Syndrome. In this scene, Simon is starting to make a class journey, he started rowing, he started trying to fit in with the other upper-class kids, and getting into a relationship with someone as upper-class as Wilhelm would definitely move him all the way. But going on a journey means leaving things behind, which is why Rosh and Ayub are cutting him down and literally turning their backs on him. They like it in the small town of Bjärstad, why can't he be happy there too? Why is he betraying his roots?

Subtext: This comment from August nicely foreshadows a later episode when August does something traceable on a School computer...

Subtext: What August means is that he's not sure Wilhelm has the same desire to be accultured into the upper class, to play the part of a proper prince, in the same way that he and Erik have accepted their roles and are even enjoying them.

Culture: Although it's impossible to read the name of the medicine, the paper tag on the bottle indicates that it's some kind of prescription medicine. From the conversation with Vincent, we learn that it's some kind of ADHD medication, probably some kind of Dextroamphetamine since those improve athletic ability and cognitive functions in healthy people.

Culture: Birkenstock sandals are associated with hippies in Sweden as well as in many parts of the world, so August is actually saying that the school counselor isn't really part of the same upper-class society as the rest of the staff. And again, his use of the word sosse drives the point home.

Subtext: Consequently, the counselor sees right through August and refuses to immediately prescribe him the medication that he wants...

Subtext: ...even though August tries to both bribe him and threaten him into giving him the medication he wants.

Subtext: A big theme of this episode is class journeys, and in this scene and a previous exercise scene, August gushes about how good a thing that is, how proud he is of Simon for going on one, and spouts some crap about how everyone can make it if they really want to.

Subtext: Thankfully, Madison says what we're all thinking: August is full of shit, life isn't fair, and they're only at the school because they were born into privilege.

Blink and you miss it: After Wilhelm has nervously texted his crush for the first time, he starts to bite his fingernails, but quickly stops himself, because why would he be nervous? He's just texting another boy about rowing practice, there's nothing more to it!

Subtext: Simon's texting game is on point though, he knows exactly what he should write to get Wilhelm to go on a totally-not-a-date with him.

Subtext: In the same way that August couldn't convince the counselor about being sick, I don't think Wilhelm's atrocious acting here convinces August that he's sick either.

Culture: Public transport in the greater Stockholm area - or wherever we're supposed to be - is of course cash-less, and you pay by either charging a special card, or by signing up in their app and buying tickets through there. The point of this scene though is to drive home how Wilhelm has never ever had to take the bus before in his life, and therefore has no idea how it works.

Culture: The totally-not-a-date starts at a Circle K, which in Sweden is just another gas station, but it is actually a Canadian multi-national convenience store corporation. The price of gas is of course posted in kr/l, and 13.98kr/l corresponds to roughly $6/gal.

Subtext: Throughout the totally-not-a-date, Wilhelm is trying to reach for common ground with Simon, trying to show him how he's just a regular guy...

Subtext: ...but then real life intrudes, Wilhelm is recognized by some local girls, who call out to him and run away giggling, which shows how he's not a regular guy, he's going to get recognized wherever he goes.

Culture: Kokt eller grillat, boiled or grilled, are the two ways you can get your hot-dog at pretty much any hot-dog place in Sweden, and ketchup and mustard is always offered. The correct answer to this question is of course grilled, with ketchup and mustard, and this just shows that Wilhelm is a man of culture and good taste. Unfortunately, they were out grilled ones, so they all got boring soggy boiled hot-dogs instead. Is there a metaphor here? I don't know.

Subtext: Again, the show drives home the point that absolutely no-one has a problem with people being gay. Simon is clearly out to Ayub and the rest of his friends, and Ayub immediately picks up on the fact that this is totally a date.

Blink and you miss it: Ayub nudges Simon with his elbow to tell him that he should make a move on Wilhelm.

Culture: What we're looking at is just the local junior/high school football team, Bjärstad, playing a match against some other unnamed junior football team. Since the stakes are super low, the audience basically consists of whichever parents and friends of the players that could be bothered showing up.

Culture: Driving age is 18 in Sweden, and even then getting your own car at that age is extremely uncommon. However, you can easily get a license for a moped when you turn 15, so these are the vehicles of choice for teenagers to get around.

Subtext: August found out about Wilhelm's trip to town, but his main problem with it is that he wants Wilhelm to stop slumming it with lower class people, and to start hanging out with everyone at school instead, so that he can be properly accultured into the upper class. Again, sosse in this context means working class, not socialist.

Subtext: Although Simon felt really great about his first date with Wilhelm, the text message reminds him that Wilhelm isn't a regular person, and that even this innocent little trip generates interest and scrutiny, and can't be posted publicly.

Culture: As everyone should have noticed by now, Madison keeps speaking English, while everyone speaks to her in Swedish, so clearly she understands it. But here she gives her motivation for sticking to English, and that is that she doesn't feel she's good enough at speaking Swedish. Boarding schools like Hillerska attracts international students that have some kind of connection to the country, so a likely scenario is that Madison grew up in the US with a Swedish parent, and she's being sent here to experience Swedish culture and get immersed in the language to learn it better.

Cinematography: This shot of August drives really home all the pressure he is under, he's out of drugs, the headmistress just hinted that he's out of money, and he's literally being weighed down by books and work-out weights.

Subtext: Simon has kept his visits to Micke a secret from Sara, so here he has to intervene to make sure August doesn't accidentally reveal this to her. He also wants to protect his sister, so he's redirecting August's search for drugs onto himself.

Subtext: And on the flipside, Simon isn't really telling his dad that Sara still hates him and really doesn't want to see him, so he's vague when Micke asks about Sara and Linda.

Culture: Finally a bottle of medicine where we can read the label! Unfortunately for Simon, this is Tramadol, an opiate prescribed for pain relief, which is the complete opposite of the kind of drugs August wants.

Subtext: If you haven't figured out yet that this episode is about class journeys, August spells it out for us here. However, the reason he's "congratulating" Simon in front of everybody is because Simon just supplied him with more drugs, so this is his way of thanking him, since he can't really pay him.

Blink and you miss it: For a split second, Wilhelm grabs Simon's leg during the scary scene.

Subtext: The entire dialogue of the movie works as subtext for what's actually going on between Wilhelm and Simon at this point, and Wilhelm is getting a little freaked out by this sneaky display of affection.

Subtext: The movie also puts words on the implications of Wilhelm getting together with a boy, what about having kids in the future? Can you carry on your family name and traditions, or will they die with you?

Lost in translation: The plaque actually says "FEEL YOUR RESPONSIBILITY FOR THE HERITAGE". Even though the plaque means the heritage and legacy of the school itself, Wilhelm is thinking about his legacy, his heritage, and how getting together with Simon would threaten that.

Lost in translation: Wilhelm actually says "jag är inte en..." - "I'm not a..." before he stops himself. So it's not possible that he was trying to say "I'm not gay", because that doesn't work grammatically in Swedish either. He could be trying to say "I'm not a guy like that" or "I'm not a guy who likes guys", that would work.

Cinematography: The framing and silhouetting of this shot is just chef's kiss. The outline of their hair allows us to see who is who, and we can see from their poses that Simon is welcoming a kiss, while Wilhelm is still hesitating.

[boeswhore]

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 → 𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧

summary: after catching feelings for her best friend, y/n tries her best to keep her feelings to herself and if that means she’s going to have to ignore elias, she’s all for it but turns out elias doesn’t like the idea of that.

join my taglist !

13. “please don’t shut me out.”

pairings: bestfriend!elias x upset!reader

my masterlist!

“i’m fine petey.”

“you don’t need to come over, go to practice .”

the only words spoken by me to elias. that was all i could say and he knew that it was all bullshit but still didn’t bother to push me at all knowing that i would eventually come clean to him, and even if all the communications were through the phone, i didn’t need to see his face to know it was upsetting him.

it wasn’t just elias, the boys were starting to pick up on my behaviour too. i got multiple calls and texts from brock, quinn and nils and each of them were laced with concern and worry.

at first i had the motivation to answer them, but now i just began to leave them all on opened or delivered.

there is just so much going on and putting it on elias is the last thing i want to do. he’s already busy with his hockey schedule and travis green has been really hard on him and i just don’t want to add to his stress and frustrations.

brock: y/n, we’re so worried about you. please answer my calls.

quinn: i hope you’re alright. i’m so worried rn.

nils: y/n, we are all here for you.”

petey: kärlek, i don’t know what’s wrong and if i did anything but please, answer my calls and texts. i’m so worried for you right now.

i push my glasses up on my face as i plop down onto my couch flipping through the tv to find something good to watch. i needed a break from my phone. i felt like absolute shit leaving the boys so worried but i couldn’t find it for myself to message and call them back.

the door rings and i furrow my eyebrows in confusion. i get up and trudge slowly towards the door, opening it and my eyes widen as i realize it was the one and only boy i have been trying to avoid for the past two weeks.

the first thought that ran through my mind and was to shut the door on his face and that’s exactly what i did, but him being a step ahead of me quickly places his foot in to stop the door. “y/n. we need to talk.” elias says as he pushes the door opens and shuts it behind him.

“there’s nothing to talk about elias.” i mumble, walking away from him and into the living room, taking my previous seat on the couch. he trails behind me, sitting next to me placing his hand on my knee.

“what’s going on älskling?” elias asks and i sigh. he was making it really hard to keep the tears in. “i- i said nothing lias please.” i reply earning a scoff from him in response.

i feel the tears brimming my eyes and i can feel his gaze burning into the side of my face. i close my eyes tightly.

i get up and quickly make my way to the kitchen, trying to keep in the tears that were starting to form. having elias here right now, only a couple of feet away from me did not make it easy at all.

i just wanted to jump in his arms and cry my eye out but i couldn’t. i grab a waterbottle from the fridge and take a sip, trying to calm myself down.

i feel elias’s hand wrap gently around my waist, turning me to face him. i feel my heart beat faster at the small touch. i look up at him, to see him already gazing down at me intensely. i look down, pushing up my glasses on my face. “please don’t shut me out y/n. i can’t help you if i don’t know what’s wrong.” elias murmurs, caressing my cheek.

that’s all it took.

the soft touch of his hands pressed against my cheeks were more than enough to let a tear finally slip down my cheeks. i try to say something but the sobs overcome me as elias is quick to pull me into him. “baby, please don’t cry i’m here.” elias coos, swaying us both back and forth.

“it’s all too much elias.” i choke out between my sobs and he pulls me away from his embrace. “what’s too much?” he questions, wrapping his arms around my waist, keeping me close to him.

“i’ve been so stressed with midterms and exams. stuff at home isn’t going so well for me right now and i haven’t even properly slept because i’ve been studying like crazy to keep my mind off of family problems and now i’m putting it all on you.” i croak out.

elias looks at me, concern written all over his face. “and now, you probably think i’m some loser who just can’t handle stuff on her plate.” i murmur and elias shakes his head. “what? no i don’t! you couldn’t ever bother me.” he says.

“yeah right petey. you have way more to focus on then to listen to my dumb sob stories.” i mumble, pushing my glasses up on my nose. elias sighs before wrapping his arms around my waist, lifting me up on the counter. he stands between my eyes, resting his hands on my thighs.

“can you stop? you would never bother me. i would drop anything for you baby. as cliche as it sounds. i’m so in love with you. we made a pact didnt we? we are going to be there for each other no matter what.” elias says and i nod.

i wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into me. he quickly takes in my actions; wrapping his tightly around my waist. “you know- you scare me. you make me feel something no one else ever could.” elias murmurs against my neck. i smile at his words, “i love you.” i whisper as he pulls away and presses his lips against mine.

“next time, please don’t shut me out for this long ever again. i think you literally almost killed us all with concern.” elias grumbles. i laugh as he pulls out his phone to snap a picture of us. almost immediately the boys snap back. “see, i told you!”

“never again.” i say, resting my head against his chest.

-

[gamergirl929]

The PPC (Chrislex x Reader)

The PPC, or the Polyamorous Power Couple find themselves on field together for the first in a match against Sweden, but when fouls go uncalled, and tackles become a bit too hard, the duty to rein in her two spicy girlfriends falls on Christen’s shoulders. 

“I mean, there’s no way we can lose, not with the PPC leading the charge.” Megan smirks and your brows furrow.  

“PPC?” You ask with a snort and Megan grins.  

“The Polyamorous Power Couple.”  

Christen giggles, her cheeks flushing when Alex slips an arm around her.  

You, meanwhile can't help but pout, wanting to be between the two women, but unfortunately there wasn’t anywhere on the bus where the three of you could sit side by side.  

“Awwwwww.”  

Your brows furrow when a pair of arms wrap around you from behind, a pair of arms belonging to Tobin Heath.  

“Don’t pout, I’ll give you a hug.” She grins and you laugh, leaning back against her chest.  

Alex’s brows arch, as do Christen’s their eyes narrowing playfully as they glare across the aisle at you and Tobin.  

“Hey, she was pouting.” Tobin gives you a squeeze.  

Megan leans from her seat and into the aisle, the woman’s eyes narrowed as she stares Christen and Alex’s way.  

“You know the power that Y/N’s pout holds.”  

You smirk, knowing full well how that pout effects both Alex and Christen, the two immediately caving at the sight of it.  

Christen glances at Alex.  

“Oh, trust me.” Alex snorts and Christen giggles, the two speaking at roughly the same time.  

“We know.”

                                                           ***

You exhale loudly, bouncing on the heels of your feet as you stare out of the tunnel and at the field, a field you would be on soon, a field you would be starting on against Sweden.  

Your eyes widen when a pair of arms slip around you from behind, the owner resting their chin our shoulder.  

“Are you nervous?” Christen whispers in your ear and you sigh, leaning back heavily against her chest.  

“A little, you remember what happened last time against Sweden...” You mumble as your eyes flutter shut, the last game against Sweden weighting heavily on your mind.  

Christen frowns, remembering all too well what happened during the last bout against Sweden, the way you crumbled to the ground, clasping your injured leg after a reckless tackle.  

A growl makes your eyes flash open, a smile stretching across your face when you see Alex standing in front of you, her arms crossed across her face and eyes narrowed in a glare as she eyes the players donned in yellow.  

“Oh, it better not happen again.” She growls, a number of the Swedish players taking a step back when they see the look in her smoldering blue orbs.  

You shake your head, grabbing her arm and pulling her to you, your arms slipping around her as you kiss her cheek.  

“Save that spice for the field.” You whisper, grinning when Alex kisses the tip of your nose.  

“Oh, I have enough to go around.”  

Christen giggles, her hot breath tickling your ear, the woman pressing a kiss to your cheek before she moves to her place in line.  

You take a deep breath, your eyes drifting to Christen’s back, before drifting to the large number thirteen adorning Alex’s jersey.  

You nod curtly to yourself, smiling when both Christen and Alex glance your way, Alex sending you a wink whereas Christen simply grins, a smile you can’t help but return.  

Kelley gives you a pat on the back from her place in line behind you, the defender smiling when you turn her way.  

“Ready?” She asks and you nod.  

“Ready.”  

The line begins to move and you take a deep breath, your fear completely dissipating as you make your way out of the tunnel and onto the field.  

                                                           ***

The snarl that left you was inhuman as you made your way towards Alex, pulling her up off the ground for what was the fifth time in just the first half.  

Sweden had been particularly hard on the forward, who’d basically gone down anytime she’d been in possession of the ball.  

Alex moves to her feet with a grimace, her cheeks flushed and face contorted in anger, anger she directs at the ref who hadn’t been calling any of the fouls committed against her.  

Sweden had committed a NUMBER of fouls, against not only Alex but you as well, though none had been called.  

You wipe a blade of grass from Alex’s shoulder a scowl on your face as you glare at the player who’d fouled her.  

You shake your head as you make your way across field, your shoulder knocking with hers, roughly.  

A whistle makes you stop dead in your tracks, the incompetent referee marching towards you, her hand in her back pocket.  

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You growl under your breath as she stops in front of you, a yellow card held high above her head.  

“You’ve got to be fu-

The sound of a whistle blowing makes you fall silent, the first half coming to an end in a rather irritating fashion.  

A hand gently takes your own and you growl in anger, though when you realize the hand belongs to Christen you fall silent.  

She practically drags you towards Alex, the forward grabbing an equally angry Alex’s hand, earning a similar reaction as she’d gotten from you, an irksome growl, though when blue orbs lock with green she too falls silent.  

“Come on.” Christen whispers as she squeezes your hand, as well as Alex’s.  

Despite your anger, you squeeze back, as does Alex.  

                                                           ***

Christen’s eyes dart from you, to Alex, to you, to Alex, her head on a swivel as she does her best to calm her girlfriends down, the two of you scowling angrily.  

Fingers slip gently between your own and you sigh, the feel of Christen’s hand in yours bringing you a sense of calm, a similar thing happening to the woman on the other side of Christen.  

She gives both your hands a squeeze and you sigh in unison, the two of you leaning against Christen who’s all too happy being between the two of you.  

Momentarily your hand leaves Christen’s, only to slip around her moments later, your fingertips caressing Alex’s arm.  

“Are you okay?” You whisper lowly as to not be heard.  

Alex smiles, taking your hand and giving it a squeeze before she kisses the back of it.  

“I’m okay, are you?” She asks and you nod, your cheek resting against Christen’s back.  

“I am.”  

Alex sighs as she leans against Christen’s back, the tip of her nose brushing yours.  

Christen smiles at the feel of the two of you resting against her back, the woman wanting nothing more than to stay like this, but they had a game to play, a game that was currently nil, nil.  

Reluctantly, you leave your resting place when Vlatko enters the locker room.  

Christen grins when you press a kiss to her cheek, her cheeks flushing further when Alex does the same to her other cheek.  

“What would we do without you?” You smile and Megan snorts from her place across the locker room.  

“Probably get detained by the police.”  

You lean around Christen, grinning when your eyes catch Alex’s, a grin stretching across her face.  

“Well, we still have a second half to get though, don’t we?” Julie snorts and Christen shakes her head, her green orbs wide as she looks from you, to Alex and back.  

“Please don’t get arrested.”  

Alex shrugs.  

“No promises.”  

Christen turns towards you and you grin innocently.  

“Same.”  

She shakes her head, nonetheless taking your and Alex’s hands.  

“What am I going to do with you two?”  

                                                           ***

Unfortunately for Christen moments after the start of the next half you’re on your back staring up at the cloudy sky above you.  

You roll over onto your front before moving to stand, angrily brushing the bits of grass from your uniform.  

Christen jogs towards you, her hand resting on your back.  

“Are you alright?” She whispers in your ear and you nod.  

“I'm fine.” You growl, sending the Swedish player who’d taken you down a glare, a glare only rivaled by the one Alex is currently sending her.  

It seemed as if Sweden had turned their attention from Alex and onto you, seeing as a few minutes later you were back on the ground again.  

You snarl as you jump to your feet, trying to decide whether to go for the ref, or whatever Swedish player was closest, but before you can Christen moves to stand in front of you.  

“Don’t she isn’t worth it.”  

“THAT WAS OBVIOUSLY A FOUL! COME ON! THIS IS FUC-”  

At the sound of Alex’s voice, Christen jogs away, grabbing Alex’s arm and dragging her away from the ref, the forward grumbling angrily under her breath as she’s pulled away.

You want more than anything to advance on the ref yourself, but an arm slipping around you makes you still, an arm belonging to Kristie Mewis.  

“Thought I’d help Christen reign in her spicy girlfriends.”  

Your bottom lip juts out in a pout.  

“Why’d you pick me?” You ask and the blonde snorts.  

“You’re shorter than Alex.”  

You huff, sending her a harmless glare.  

“Not that much shorter.” You mumble and Kristie snorts.  

“Are you sure about that?”  

You growl, your nose crinkled.  

“Bite me Mewis.”  

She holds her hands up in surrender.  

“That’s Christen territory, not mine.”  

Christen, who’d just jogged over, brows arch.

“What’s my job?” She asks, confused her brows furrowing in confusion at the deep red flush on your cheeks.  

Kristie shrugs.  

“Ohh, nothing.”  

                                                           ***

Unfortunately for Christen yet again, Alex is taken down in the box in the last few moments of the game, a foul that is, YET AGAIN, not called.  

That is seemingly the last straw for you, as you march across field towards the referee, the woman entirely unaware that you’re quickly advancing on her.  

The whistle blows loudly, signaling the end of the game, giving Christen free reign to chase after you, the woman literally throwing you over her shoulder before jogging to Alex who is also stomping towards the ref.  

“Chris-

“No.”  

The remainder of the USWNT watch as Christen carries you, and drags Alex off the field, the two of you snarling and spitting angrily at the ref and any Swedish player nearby.  

“Chris! Let me go!” You whine with a pout and Christen shakes her head.  

“No.”  

“Then let ME go!” Alex growls, trying to wrench her arm free, though halfheartedly as to not hurt Christen.  

The woman simply shakes her head.  

“No, and if you don’t stop, you’re both sleeping alone tonight.”  

You lean around Christen, your eyes catching Alex’s blue orbs, the woman’s pout just as jutted out as your own.  

Alex pulls her arm free, instead of running away though, she crosses her arms across her chest.  

You follow suit, crossing your arms across your chest, though Christen doesn’t put you down, instead opting to carry you to the locker room.  

“You can put me down you know.” You huff when she passes into the locker room and she scoffs.  

“No, I can’t.”

Alex snorts.  

“You’ll probably run out onto the field and kill the player that took Alex down.”  

Tobin snorts as she passes by.  

“And then the ref.”  

You shake your head.  

“No, the ref would be first.”  

Christen turns to Alex, smiling when her girlfriend opens her arms.  

You grunt as Christen passes you off to Alex, the woman wrapping her arms tightly around you from behind, your back against her chest.  

“You know, most people would kill to be where you’ve been in the past five minutes.” Megan snickers and you hum, your arms uncrossing, your hands moving to rest on Alex’s.  

Alex’s finger's part, allowing yours to slip between them.  

“Oh, so SHE gets to hold your hand and I don’t?” Christen pouts, her pout disappearing moments later when you take her hand.  

“That’s better.”  

Megan shakes her head as she looks around the room, she and Tobin sharing a glance.  

“Idiots.”  

Emily shakes her head.  

“Correction.” She wags her finger, the blonde grunting when Kelley pulls her into a headlock.  

“They’re gay idiots.”  

You smirk, giving both Alex’s and Christen’s hands a squeeze.  

“It’s okay, we know you’re jealous.”

Kristie snorts.  

“I mean honestly...? A little...” She snorts and Sam elbows her.  

“I’ll tell Rachel.”  

She scoffs.  

“Bitch, you know she’d agree.”  

                                                           ***

Much later that night you’re grunting as you fall face first into bed between Alex and Christen, the two women giggling.  

Christen rolls over on her side, the woman’s hand slipping under your shirt and running up and down your back in a gentle caress that leaves you basically purring.  

Alex glances at the forward, her smile splitting into a grin.  

Fingers tangle in your hair and you hum, your eyelids drooping.  

“Noo...” You whine, though you make no attempt to move, your chest rumbling.  

“No what???” Alex asks with a giggle and you grumble.  

“I should be the one taking care of you guys...”

Alex grins apologetically, reaching over you and cupping Christen’s cheek.  

“If it wasn’t for Chris, we’d probably both be in jail.”  

You snort.  

“Probably?” You ask, your voice muffled.  

Christen’s hand leaves your back as you roll over, a smile stretching across your face.  

“Still, I wish you would’ve let me have a go at the ref.” You pout, your eyes widening and cheeks flushing as Christen ducks down, the woman pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose before she kisses your lips.  

“Then you wouldn’t be between Alex and I right now.” She smirks, and you huff.  

“True.” You blush, rubbing the back of your neck.  

Alex leans down, the woman kissing the nape of your neck, before she wraps her arms around you, pulling you back against her chest.  

You sigh, your eyes fluttering shut as your smile splits into a grin.  

“Unless you don’t WANT to be between us.”  

You scoff.  

“Now who said that?” You giggle, sighing in content when Christen scoots closer, her nose brushing yours as her head rests on the pillow beside you.  

Christen covers Alex’s hand with her own, their fingers intertwining where they’re resting on your hip.  

Christen grins when she realizes you’re fighting off sleep, your eyelids fluttering shut before you snap them back open.  

She brushes her nose playfully against yours.  

“Sleep.” She whispers and you yawn.  

“But...”  

Alex nuzzles into the spot behind your ear.  

“We’ll be here when you wake up.” She tickles your earlobe with the tip of her nose and you smile.  

Sleep is moments from taking you when you find your voice, words slurring as you fight off sleep.  

“I love you guys.”  

Alex gives Christen hand a squeeze, the two grinning.  

“We love you too.” Alex whispers, pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck again. 

Christen pecks your lips, her grin widening when you attempt to reciprocate, but fail immensely.  

“So, so much.” She whispers.  

You hum, unable to fight sleep any long, surrounded in the comforting heat coming from the two women on either side of you, two women you love more than anything in the world.  

[choiwrites]

kth | wolfgirl (m.)

Words: 10k  Genre: twlight!au, it’s new moon but taetae as jacob, ur bella but you have a personality :o, oh also smut and a little angst Warnings: no protection and no fcks given, language ig?, descriptive seggs lol, vampires and all that bs if that triggers sum of yall, oral (f receiving), tae is younger than u and kind of a sub (dom tae is overdone we need change in this country) i cant think no more no thots hed mt Rating: 18+ Song: Iron & Wine - Flightless Bird, American Mouth Summary:  During your stay at your Aunt's house in the wet town of Forks, you never thought the boys next door will change your perspective in how you see the world.

The weather in Washington was something you’re not used to. You can never go places without getting mud on your shoes and it takes more than your patience to clean them every time before going out. Sure, it was great to experience a different weather other than the blazing sun in Los Angeles, but it was hard to adjust. You weren’t ready for it with all the sleeveless and loose tops you brought from Los Angeles.

After months of debating with your mom, you decided it would be a great way to spend your summer vacation turning your camera focus into something more dark and cloudy. Your professor had also suggested that it would look good in your portfolio if you try different moods in photos other than the hot weather in Angeles. So, you thought about it for months before asking your mom to buy you tickets to see your Aunt Sylvia who you're currently living with for the meantime.

She was in her mid-thirties, but she looked younger than her real age. She knew how to groom and with the way she looks, she probably had that life during her high school days. You rarely see her though, you can remember all the conversations you both had. She leaves home early for her duty at the police station as an attending desk officer. Her place wasn't big, an average suburban house painted in cold tones of white and gray with dark furniture inside. It's not your typical definition of cozy. Good thing you brought your two sweaters — one with a Christmas tree embroidered on it and one with the phrase "'tis the season!" Wearing a sweater in Los Angeles only means one thing, and that is the season of giving. But who cares, it's not like anyone was going to notice, right?

About to finish the second cup of black tea, an idea pops into your mind about what Sylvia had said about the landscapes nearby the house. However, she had warned you about the risks of a few wild coyote appearances, but one could call you a junkie. There’s no fun in danger, but dangerous does rhyme with adventurous.

A cool whip of breeze enters the thin fabric of your sweater, immediately regretting stepping out of the doorstep after locking the door. As you are approaching the back of the house to enter the woods, young laughters echo through the area, lessening your fear for a bit. It must be safe if a group of teenagers are hanging out in such a secluded forest.

Unbothered by the noises, whether they were from teenagers or not, you make your way further into the woods of coppery branches on the endless verdant ground with subtle eau de nils. It’s like walking into a surreal three-dimensional render of a forest, too perfect to be right in front of your eyes.

It was quiet and serene in the woods. Aside from birds chirping, it felt like out of this world. It was an alien planet. Everything was green — the moss surrounding the place, every tree had some sort of fungi beneath it, the soil dark brown as if staring right into the earth’s eyes. The very healthy kind of earthy, and it was easier to breathe in the forest than it was in the city of Los Angeles. No wonder why they're both on the opposite sides of the country. They're literally poles apart. Being at Forks, it's as if you were able to be in a different country. It was secluded, unlike in Angeles, there are people in every place you go.

While changing the film of the camera, a strong gust of wind on your left side. So strong that your body stumbled onto the ground. You were on your knees, camera shattered as it hits a hard medium-sized rock. You break a couple of curses to the wind.

The camera looked hopeless with lenses separated from it, lying in pieces against a rock.

"What the hell was that?" 

There had to be some kind of a fast animal that ran from your side, which quickens your pulse, but the devastation you felt for the camera overthrew that fear. When you caught a glimpse of the 'wind,' it was human-like. It ran around in every direction surrounding you,  freezing you into place. The only thing you were able to do was to keep watching the human-like creature run in circles like lightning. You tried standing up, but it approached you in a rapid current that you fell into place again. But you couldn't see it, you weren't able to look into its eyes.

"You shouldn't be out here alone,” behind you says.

You whimper, embarrassed when the deep voice sends hums into your nerves.. 

"Why didn't you run?" He looks at you with knitted brows as he approaches to help you get on your feet. He’s far too attractive to be a wild coyote, you slap that stupid thought away.

"I... I didn't know what to do,” you force out, still affected by the broken camera and creeping fear.

He was around four inches taller than you. He looked about your age. Dark thick hair, with light brown irides inside his almond-shaped eyes. His skin was of a rich walnut tan, and his dark green hoodie complements that. 

"You must be Sylvia's niece. I'm Taehyung,” he said in a sultry manner as he offered a hand for a handshake.

"How do you kno-"

"She told us. My family's close with Sylvia. Our mothers used to be best friends, y/n." He puts his hand back in the pocket of his hoodie.

A tinge of embarrassment brushes through your cheeks, feeling guilty that you didn't give him a handshake. But all of that is ignored when he smiles.

"Did I creep you out?"

You chuckle softly. "No, of course not. I'm just still in the moment... of processing." You ease him, as if you were able to read the tension in his undecipherable eyes.

There was a few seconds of silence before Taehyung spoke again when he noticed your camera on the ground.

"Hey, we have a technician at home, maybe he has some tools he could help you with."

He was absolutely gorgeous. You find yourself lost in his face, studying his features and every little action he does. He would look so good as a muse. If only you could capture him right now, he'd be perfect under the clouds that create shadows that contour his cheeks and makes his eyes even more mysterious.

"Don't worry, you can trust me. Sylvia knows where I live,” he adds. 

Though that doesn't really solve the problem, you find yourself walking with Taehyung in the woods, drifting away from the devastation and fear from earlier. 

The laughters were from them. The laughs you heard earlier before entering the woods were from Taehyung's friends. They confirmed that they were walking around the woods earlier and that they passed by your house. All looking friendly with similar doe eyes, almost like they were relatives. They were all in a circle, all of them sitting on a chunk of thick logs, dressed in a similar way. The men were younger than you, but there is a girl who's older than you. She didn't seem as friendly as the others as you notice the judging glances towards your way. She had shoulder length of hair and she was just as tan as Taehyung. Taehyung discussed each of them one by one to you, all of them introducing themselves in an endearing manner except for her. Only saying her name was Leah and that was it, which made you feel an ounce of intimidation.

"So, y/n, how long do you plan to stay?" Embry, the one with the shortest hair, asks as he plays with the two twigs he'd been digging up dirt with the moment you arrived. His color was a tad bit darker than the others. He had a grin that could steal every girl's heart. He was gorgeous. They were all just as gorgeous as Taehyung.

"Oh, one month. I have a college application to fix back home,” you answered surely. You were only here to take photos for your college portfolio, and making friends was out of the picture until today.

"Sucks for Tae, I had a feeling you could be more than a willing candidate to be his girlfriend." Everybody laughed except for you and Tae who exchanged awkward glances at each other.

"Stop it, Bry." Taehyung wanted to laugh along but embarrassment got the best of him.

"She looks so out of place. You probably party a lot in Los Angeles, don't you?" Leah gives you a stern look, seriously waiting for your response. She only wants to get a reaction from you and you weren’t the only one to get the feeling as the group feels the rising tension between the both of you.

"No, I don't go to parties. Mom is very strict." You tell her. You didn't want the group to feel that you were intimidated, after all, you wanted to befriend everyone.

"She'd be perfect for our overnight tomorrow then." She prickly grins.

"Right! Want to join us in La Push? It's the nearest beach out here. We'll have bonfires and such," Seth, the youngest one with the tiniest body (still bigger than yours), expresses in excitement. Out of all of them, Seth was the friendliest. 

"I'll go talk to Sylvia for you, if you want." Taehyung raises his brows. He had been laughing quietly ever since he had brought you to meet his friends - which seems like he regrets, additionally. He was more mysterious than you thought. He didn't share much of his life during the discussion, only three things: his last name was Kim, he’s 20 years old, and he lives at the rez along with the rest of the team.

"Sure. I'll just bring my other camera." You smiled.

Taehyung said that he'll get Chase, a friend of his who wasn’t part of the circle, to fix the broken film camera. He assured that it will only be a matter of three days before the camera is all yours again. After a few more useless fun discussions, you had forgotten that the sun had settled for a while. When Taehyung realizes your face of worry, he offers to give you a ride home. Great, a ride with the wild coyote who had immediately earned your trust by rising a brow. You wouldn’t be so shocked if you end up ‘missing’ in the news in the next hours.

He owned a Chevy pick up truck. It was red, but faded, making it seem vermillion in color. It had a few dents and you were sure that it wasn't one of the smoothest rides you've ever had. But Taehyung made a few jokes about how he feels uneasy with the truck as well, only to reveal that it has been with him ever since his birth.

"It's great. Very retro." You gave him a smile to let him know that he doesn't need to feel embarrassed with his truck.

"Shut up, Y/N. I know it sucks, okay. I can't even play a single song here without a static." He laughs and you admit it.

He gave a charming wave to your window and had a small chat with Sylvia, who’s been home for hours, before leaving, probably about the La Push trip for tomorrow. Once you've changed into your pyjamas, Sylvia knocks on your door as you are about to settle in bed.

"Tae told me about the La Push camping tomorrow,” she began.

"Are you gonna let me?"

She smiles in an assuring way. You can't deny how lovely she looked with her hair down, her waves framing her heart-shaped face. "Of course, honey. You better wake up early tomorrow. Tae told me that he'll pick you up by seven." She winks and rubs your shoulder before heading downstairs.

A beach trip in a cloudy town without bringing any hoodies with you? Sounds about perfect, if you’re looking for a hypothermia attack. And you were never a morning person either so it’s a big mystery why you even agreed to go in the first place. The waking time in Los Angeles was ten in the morning. In Forks, it was seven. 

When Taehyung arrived, he was wearing a black shirt and a black leather jacket, pairing it with slightly oversized pants. He looked bigger than yesterday, maybe it was the jacket that made him look buff. He waved softly before you even stepped out of the doorway. He was carrying a medium-sized paper bag with small wet stains.

"My sister made us breakfast. Just in case you didn't have enough time to prepare," he opens the car door for you and waved to Sylvia goodbye, "thought you'd take more time because you probably wake up late in the city."

“I’m somehow a little offended with that assumption,” you cooed and he replied with a stammering laugh, unsure whether to take it as a joke or not.

He fumbled with the stereo and it played better than yesterday, giving you a sloppy smile as the first chords of Creep by Radiohead plays.

"You fixed it?" You take a bite from the sandwich his sister prepared. You thank God his sister prepared it for you, your stomach would be growling by now.

"Yeah. I just didn't want us to have that awkward silence along the way." He breathily laughs.

Everything Taehyung has is beautiful. He had an amazing laugh, a deep sultry voice, and doe eyes. He's simply astonishing. You were sure that everyone he has met so far had fallen in love with him. You weren't one to deny that either.

It took around fifteen songs before the both of you arrived at the beach — thanks to Taehyung's amazing playlist. It was quiet, the weather didn't change much in the place. Still cold and dark, untouched by a glimpse of sunrise. It was windier than the rest of Forks, and you wore your Christmas sweater to at least help with the cold a bit.

It was weird to say, but Taehyung radiated heat whenever you were near him. It's like when you're not around Taehyung, you feel the coldness of Forks. His truck didn't even feel cold though his air conditioning was on, you just felt a sense of unfamiliar comfortable heat you found yourself curling in your seat minutes ago. The group welcomed the both of you except for Leah of course. Sooner or later, you knew you'd start to hate her.

"You guys are early,” you tell Embry and Paul as they greet you with warm hugs.

"Of course, we are. It's La Push, baby." Embry gives you a wink and you blush.

"Okay, Bry, I haven't had my breakfast and you're already winking." Paul fake puked and the rest of the group laughs.

They started setting up tents as Taehyung offered to take your bag when he noticed how it's weighing you down. Before he could put it in the tent, you took your digital camera and started roaming around by yourself to take pictures of the view. Astounding as you had expected. It's like you were in the middle of nowhere. Only Taehyung's friends were at the beach which was a lucky shot for you and the group.

"Set up the fire, Tae! We're having breakfast." Leah yells across the place as she places the logs in the middle of the circle the tents are built in.

Taehyung sighs loudly. "Get ready for the Quileute Tribe stories." 

"You seem tired of it, you joked.

While Taehyung builds a fire with the rest of the boys, you secretly take pictures of him busy as the both of you keep talking.

"It's always the story every camping day. The Quileute Legends, you know? The scary stuff." 

You knit your brows when the word ‘scary’ comes into play, bringing your camera down to take a better look at the almost sweaty Taehyung.

"Scary stuff? How scary? Thrill me." You weren't aware as to how much Taehyung also studies your features. He wanted to know you better, but he was afraid of scaring you away by asking too many questions. It had always been his issue, scaring people away from him. And this time, he didn't want to let you in like the others, he just wanted to be acquaintances. But the more he spends time with you, the more he wants to be near you as if there were magnets pulling you together.

"I don't know what would thrill you, y/n. But the world is darker than you think, it's not always safe." He gives you a look. It was impossible. You were five feet away from him, but you could almost see your reflection in his eyes. It was too comforting. You were devoured by his eyes, falling steadily into his charms.

"I know. It's just as scary in L.A., I mean," you gulped, "crime is everywhere. Can't really stop it." You explained.

"It's not always crime that's scary, y/n. I'm talking unexplainable things." He smirks.

"Like paranormal?" You gaze away from him, starting to take pictures of the beach. But no matter how hard you try to distract yourself from Taehyung, your eyes keep falling on him.

"More than paranormal. Ghosts are easier to believe in."

You inhaled sharply. "I mean those are just legends, right? What's with the obsession in the Qui-Quileute Tribe?" You struggled pronouncing the word.

"It's not me. It's a tradition." There was a moment of silence before you could think of what to say again.

"Delete my pictures by the way." He scoffed.

"I thought you didn't notice."

"I was posing." 

You laugh at his joke, still certain you're never deleting any of his pictures, most definitely the one when he accidentally looked at the camera.

"You look sort of beautiful in the camera." Your lids flutter like a high school girl. “Not just in the camera, I mean… haha.”

He stares at you in confusion, and somehow you always find yourself frozen and embarrassed whenever he looks at you. "Sort of beautiful? You're more naive than I thought." He removes his jacket and throws it on the log nearby, revealing his buff body. You look away in discomfort, you didn't want to find yourself checking him out. "I'm not what you think I am. And I don't think you want to know."

"Maybe I do." You point the camera towards him and take a shot of his reaction. You wink.

The clouds hovering above the clamorous sea tell that there's probably rain coming, but it seems like the group wasn't bothered by it at all. You were sitting next to Taehyung two feet away from you on the logs nearby the fire that Seth had given up trying to help making after a couple of failed attempts. His heat never failed to linger around you though.

Sam was discussing the Quileute Legends and the group was very fascinated with the story, even though Taehyung had confirmed earlier that they've already heard the story too many times from their own families. Sam was good. He had a way in telling stories. You find yourself actually believing the legends. Werewolves and vampires? Shapeshifters and Children of the Moon? You weren't one to believe in such fantasies. You liked to watch historical movies more than fairytales, but with the way Sam elaborated every part of the legend, you can't deny the shiver that you felt when he discussed the cold ones.

Fast like lightning. Beautiful and alluring. Undead without a soul.

You thought it was ridiculous for Sam to even give out a warning about the cold ones. You were suppressing your laugh a little bit, and you were sure Leah already had her eyes on you. Why would Sam give out a warning about the cold ones? It's not like they were actually real. He also mentioned a treaty. And he sounded pretty serious about it too, even Taehyung was carefully listening. All of their eyes were on Sam, except for Leah.

Sam talked about a specific family of the cold ones, that they proposed a treaty. These cold ones are not allowed to hurt anybody from Forks, or else the mentioned werewolves are allowed to pose a fight with them. He talked about it like it was a plan.

It was afternoon and the clouds were still as thick as it was in the morning, but rays of sunlight shone through the gaps between the dark clouds. It looked ethereal, an aesthetic you'd only see in paintings. You thought those paintings are only manifestations of amplified emotions of the painter, but here you are, smiling to your camera as you take hundreds of shots.

"Save some memory for the other landscapes," Taehyung says beside you, throwing pebbles to the water, each bouncing impressively for three times.

"I know, I just can't get enough of this. You don't see that in L.A." You pointed your index finger towards the horizon of the sea.

"Yeah, but at least you can swim in LA. It's too cold out here to even go for a swim,” he emphasized.

"Not when you're around. It's weird, but I feel like you have a fever. You're too hot."

He raises his brows . "I know I'm hot," he chuckles.

"I didn't mean it like that,” you protest, though you know for a fact, Taehyung right. If he were to live in L.A., he'd be escorted many times by a modeling agency.

"So, I'm not hot?" You knew he was teasing and your embarrassment was obvious enough because of the blood rushing through your cheeks.

"You're attractive. I'm sure you know that." You roll your eyes, trying to keep everything casual — which is getting harder and harder every time he's around.

"No, I don't,” he teased. He was obviously getting pay back on you for taking candid shots of him earlier.

Your eyes landed on Sam and Emily play-fighting in the sea, just the sight of them being happy made you feel a bit of a heartache. You were a sucker for romance. The boys told you earlier that they were engaged for three months now. Leah was Sam's ex-girlfriend and Emily was Leah's ex-best friend. Finally putting the pieces together why Leah was one of the hardest to be with. She was extremely hurt and broken. She would rather shut the world out rather than let anybody in. She would rather be alone, than find anyone again who could possibly hurt her.

"Look," you poked Taehyung who was too busy throwing pebbles, "Sam and Emily are swimming. We should too!"

Though you were shivering, you bravely took off the mustard jacket that Taehyung had let you borrow. You were left with your thin brown tank top and denim shorts. He's still in his black shirt, unbothered to even take it off nor his jeans.

"What are you doing? Let's go." You tell him as you walk towards the sea.

This was a bad idea. It felt like ice was draping all over your body. How can Emily look like she's having fun when you're over here freezing just by stepping into the water? Half of your body was shivering from the wind, the lower half was for sure numb. You wanted to slap Taehyung for taking so long to get in with you, and you weren't even sure why you were so desperate for him to get in with you. It's not like he had a heater with him.

It took Taehyung a few more seconds before he started taking his shirt off, revealing his caramel skin, but it wasn't his color that caught your eyes, it was how built he is. His body looks like it was sculpted by the most talented and precise sculptor. It was defined, and shadows are doing magic in giving it silhouettes in the right areas. The best part about it was how shy he was taking off his clothes, like a teenager getting ready for his first swimming lesson.

He was for sure planning to swim today, revealing the gray trunks he’s wearing underneath his jeans. He needs a bigger one that fits him better, because the trunks he's wearing isn't doing him any justice.

Okay, no. Maybe it was justified by a subtle outline of his —

Don't even look down there, y/n, you tell yourself.

You didn't know where to focus. His thighs were just as eye-catching as his abs. Just as toned and thick. It would be such a material for thigh riding, you thought and you quickly shake your head at the idea. It has to be the waters that did this to you. Time has never been more relevant when he was walking towards your way, as he scoops water with his hands to wet his hair, while biting his bottom lip and giving you a small smile after.

"Freezing?" He smiles, eyes pierced on your small body. You were hugging yourself, embracing yourself from the fact that if you let go of your hands, you might touch something else.

"You were taking so long." 

He chuckles before holding your arm, taking it off your body. "Come on, dip your whole body." He pulls you softly towards the ocean, the sound of walking through water comforting your ears.

He was a foot away from you, the water level was on his chest and so was yours, but slightly higher. He looked even more godly. His hair pushed back, and to see his face in its entirety was a blessing, a gift.

None of you dared to talk, and you thought it was better that way. You just get to stare at him, as the sunlight lands itself upon his bronze eyes with specks of gold if you would close enough, majestic indeed to see something like that once in your life. You'd wish to wake up to that every morning.

There was this comfortable silence between the two of you. Drops of water fall under his eyelashes, fluttering them as he struggles to stare back at you. The moment was ruined when he suddenly smiled and looked towards Embry and Paul. Embry was sitting next to Paul, staring at the both of you while laughing. You shrug, feeling invaded.

"Why? What is it?" you asked Taehyung.

"They're thinking ridiculously."

 You furrow your forehead. "How do you know?" He tightens his hold around your arm as he keeps you steady near him, aware of you struggling to touch the floor.

"I just know," he softly plants circles on your arm with his thumb, "trust me."

"Maybe we shouldn't stand too close to each other then. I think they're making a big deal out of it." You didn't want to come off feisty, but you guessed it went that way for Taehyung as he moved away from you without letting you go.

"No, they're not. They're just teasing." When he said that, it was like he only said it to get near you, to assure you that it was okay to be close to him like that.

"Still cold?" he asked.

"Not so much anymore." You muttered. There were so many questions you wanted to ask Taehyung, but your voice isn't very trustworthy at the moment. You know it will betray you the moment you open your mouth.

"Penny for your thoughts? Why did you want to swim?" His voice was soft, calming as the ocean.

"I wanted to test how warm you can make me, even in freezing water."

He laughs breathily. "Seriously?"

You nod. He wanted to tell you a lot about himself, but like you, he was just as scared. Skinny dipping wasn't really your thing, especially in cold water, so after a few more moments of swimming and small talks with Taehyung, you let yourself dry by sitting next to the tent, keeping yourself busy by viewing all the pictures you took.

It was four in the afternoon, and the sun looked like it was already setting. Time was almost irrelevant at Forks, you wake up and the next thing you know, you're already getting ready for bed. Even though today was quite eventful, the clock still ticked quickly.

Feeling dry enough, you walked to the other side of the beach, Embry had mentioned that there was a cliff nearby along the woods. Though Taehyung was busy drying himself and laughing with the others, he glanced your way as you were heading towards the woods. You lifted your camera so he knew what your motive was, and he flashed a sly smile.

Trees. Cliffs. Birds.

The place could be a haven for the National Geographic Channel.

"I thought the pack wouldn't ever leave you alone like this." A deep voice spoke behind you, his english accent was thick and strong. You were sure that if you turn around, he’ll be ten feet away from you. You regret blinking your eyes, because the next thing you knew, he was right in front of you. His expression with so much thirst, so much hunger. For what?

You only inhaled sharply, first thing coming into your mind, confusion overpowering your nerves. You examined the man before you quickly. Olive skin, dark ruby eyes. His skin was inhumanly shiny, he almost looked dead, but in a mesmerizing type of way. He had dark purple circles, but his eyes were beautiful enough to distract you from it. He mirrored a cement under sunlight, he had fragments of diamonds and glitters on his skin. It wasn't your brain consuming you but his visual, his aura.

"Didn't bring your dog with you?" You weren't sure what he meant. He takes a step forward to lean into your ear, and your feet beg to stay, your eyes staring deeply in his beauty. You were too engaged, everything about him had you in place.

"You smell different from the others. Are you aware of that?" His breath touched your skin and there the exact opposite of heat seeping in your skin. “La tua cantante. I can hear your blood flowing through your veins. I can hear your heart. It's beautiful." He sniffs your neck as he hisses.

He wasn't human, and this time you were sure. He had danger lingering in his eyes, but it dressed so captivatingly beautiful, you found yourself lost.

"It won't hurt, I promise. It will be just a tiny bite, you won't even feel it."

There were words coming out of your mouth, you swore that. But nothing, your mouth still and close. It's sort of like he had power upon you, controlling and manipulating your body to be a mannequin. 

"Shh, don't fight it. You won't win over me." His teeth were grazing on your neck, seeking for a soft spot. You were unsure of his nature, what could he be?

An alien from this alien planet? An experiment gone wrong that escaped from a lab, perhaps? Maybe a demon, or an angel. A greek god of some kind?

They were all terrifying.

At the corner of your eye appeared a shirtless Taehyung, but he didn't look like himself. He was red, smoke flaring around his body. His chest expanded by time, and when you felt a small sensation of sharpness on your neck, Taehyung jumped towards the man.

No, it can't be.

This isn't Taehyung. Taehyung was gone. Maybe you were imagining things, but you felt all of them happening in front of you. As the man got distracted, your senses came back, falling on your side from losing balance. You pushed yourself away from the two monsters, as you would describe it. This wolf was huge, enormous. Any man who would try to fight it will easily lose. It stands almost seven foot, three bears wide.

Without trying, the creature had already decapitated the man. You weren't sure how to feel — safe or worried — but you were sure that you are mortified, and your face clearly expresses that.

You were only moving away from this huge thing in front of you, maybe that'll help you escape. But you don't even know if you wanted to escape. A part of you believes that Taehyung is inside that wolf, maybe eaten alive, or a spirit. 

So much for the wild coyotes, thanks for the heads up Sylvia.

Your eyes met his. Dark bronze eyes with specks of gold if you look close enough. You could almost see yourself in them, they were that kind. His eyes had a message for you, to approach him, to pet him, that it was okay and he will never hurt you. Before your hand could land on his lowered head, Sam and the others came running to help you, obviously seeing the wolf, but not even being bothered like you were.

"Y/n, are you alright?" Sam helps you stand on your feet.

Sam and the wolf had some kind of connection. Sam stared at it and the wolf left.

"So, wolves are normal here?" you spoke with a weak voice.

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again, thinking of how he can explain what just happened. You know that he knows something, and he was struggling to tell it.

"Where's Taehyung?" You scan their faces with no sign of Taehyung.

Holy shit! The wolf ate him! you thought. All you want to see right now is Taehyung. To prove himself. He can't be that wolf. The wolf must have eaten him. It is far too impossible for Quileute Legends to be real.

"We should get going before the other cold ones get here." Sam assists you to get back in the tents, completely ignoring your state of bewilderment.

Maybe it's a Forks thing to be mysterious and quiet. It irks you so much that none of them are even acknowledging what happened. This would be a great story for your mom.

Hey, Mom. Just wanted to call to tell you about how great my day was. So Taehyung, right? Aunt's neighbor, really hot guy I'd totally fuck, got eaten by a werewolf. But that's not too crazy, an incredibly beautiful medieval British man held me hostage, telling me he wanted to suck my blood. What a Forks thing! And everybody saw this huge tall wolf, I'm talking as big as a shelf kind of wolf, but they all acted like it was some puppy leaving the scene. Anyways, Mom, I'm traumatized. Going home in a week.

There is no way you can paraphrase that. No way you can make everything happening right now to sound normal at least one bit. This must be normal in Forks, but this is some Hollywood work in LA already. Things like these don't happen unless there was a shoot next door.

"Hey, you okay?" Leah approaches you. Her concern is seemingly genuine.

"I'm alive, guess I am okay. Where's Taehyung?" You don't bother to look at anyone at all, you drive your attention to the waves landing on the beach, hoping you could synchronize your breathing with them.

"Taehyung's fine. You don't have to worry about him."

"I saw him there. He was... he was red! Like he was burning! And... and there was smoke. Then I blinked, then there's a wolf. I swear it ate him!" Leah looked at you with wide eyes, but her lips were shaking trying to hide a smile.

"You're not taking me seriously! That wolf killed that guy! I don't know. He sounded British!" Leah bit her lip. "That was horrifying. I saw its head removed, there was no blood! What was that?" Leah inhaled sharply before looking at you with assurance.

"Can you calm down? The wolf you saw, don't you think it was described like the one in the legends?" Leah almost shouted, yet still controlling her laugh.

"Shapeshifters? Those are legends, Leah! The wolf ate Taehyung!" 

She chuckled. "No, they are real," she protested.

"The British man there was a cold one, a literal vampire. Taehyung didn't kill him, he was already dead."

No.

"Shut up, Leah. I know you hate me, but this is no time for jokes." 

She laughs harder. "You're right about me not liking you, but I'm not joking. That dark brown werewolf is Taehyung. One and only Taehyung. 20 year-old Taehyung who lives at the rez. That Taehyung."

'The world is darker than you think. It's not always safe.'

Taehyung had already given you clues from the start. But a word from Leah wouldn't be enough to stop your mind from going everywhere. You needed to hear this from Taehyung.

It was twilight already and the group had decided to spend the night in their cabin, instead of the beach. Sam explained that it was for your safety which until now he hasn't elaborated yet. Emily offered newly baked muffins, but it was too late before you could grab one when all the boys devoured around them. You gave Emily a smile.

"You can have the next batch." She shied away.

Emily looks like an average girl next door. She had fringes and medium length hair, they were very flat. Her skin was like the others, tan and healthy-looking. One thing you haven't examined deeply about her were her eyes. Embry had told you once that staring at Emily would bother Sam, and when you first saw her, you knew immediately why. She had a scar on one of her eyes, they looked painful. It looks like a cat scratch, only if that cat was a lion. It covered half of her face, but that didn't stop her from being lovely. She was still pretty in every way.

Taehyung arrives at the cabin, looking at everybody except you, his body resting on the door frame. He was heavy-breathing like he just finished a race. Sam came after him, giving him a small pat then walking towards Emily. Taehyung's eyes remain on the floor. His actions were complicated. You haven't figured him out yet.

"Y/N, Tae, maybe you can talk outside alone." Sam smirks at Taehyung, and Taehyung smiles back.

'This is no time to be smiling!'

Taehyung finally looks at you before leaving the door and you follow. But he still hasn't talked. And your rage is piling up inside you, you finally take a step forward.

"Care to explain what the hell happened there? I thought you were swallowed by that — that thing!" He gulps, stopping his tracks and turning around to see your face.

"I was scared," you muttered.

He totally understood why you were scared. Because he was just as scared and confused as you when he first discovered who he was, and just like you, he chose to deny it in every way he can, and he hoped that denial can make a change.

"You're not supposed to know about this. I didn't want to put you in this position — of knowing what truly there is." His eyes are sad, like he was a missing child.

The same day Taehyung figured out what he was, his eyes looked exactly the same; with fear, agony, and deprecation.

"So, you're a werewolf?" You felt his pupils dilate.

He looked at you in disbelief as if he hadn't given enough clues yet.

"Werewolf. Shapeshifter. Monster. Dog. Whatever you call it, it wasn’t my choice." His voice was weak, almost ashamed of what he had just said.

"And you kill —"

"Vampires." He finishes your sentence before you could assume. "Just vampires. The cold ones? Those that violate the treaty? They’re real." And so the legends were correct and real, and the evidence stands right in front of you, breathing and staring at you.

But no matter what angle you look at him, he wasn't a monster. He is not what he is described in the fairytales. He wasn't a merciless creature, not even harmful. He was just this young boy who lived near you.

"I get that you're afraid of me. Trust me, so am I."

"I'm not scared of you. If it weren't for you I would be bloodless by now." You bit your lip. "But I'm still a little overwhelmed." You gulped.

He had no words, but he was relieved. And you knew that when his eyes twinkled, the kind he gave you when you were jamming to the songs he had in his truck.

"If it's okay for you, I'm inviting you and Sylvia to my birthday tomorrow. It's just a small gathering."

"Will there be drinks?" you kid.

"Sam doesn't really want me taking any drinks for the meantime." He chuckles.

"Why not?"

"He said that I can't be on alcohol during my first six months of phasing. Why? Do you drink?" he innocently asks.

"Was just teasing." You playfully pushed him before proceeding to walk back in the cabin.

Before you even knew it, Taehyung was irrevocably infatuated with you. He wouldn't have thought that a college girl would give a small attention to someone younger than her, or even finding out about who he truly is and still staying by his side. He had spent so much time denying who he was, but maybe being a werewolf isn't so bad after all, if phasing is what it takes to protect you or anyone at all.

You were just like what he thought you would be — kindred spirits.

The party isn’t filled with loud chats and crowds, it is a gathering. Taehyung tried his best to always stand by your side to give you ease in enjoying such an unfamiliar place as Sylvia gets indulged in conversations with the others, completely forgetting you. Every minute though, he'd have to leave you alone on the couch but he'd return as soon as he can.

There weren't much talks between you and him either, only a couple of smiles exchanged whenever Embry and Quil do something embarrassing in front of the both of you.

It seemed as if the night was the longest night of your life, only occupied with listening to others’ stories and Taehyung sipping a punch from his red cup. He had asked a few questions to keep things interesting, but it was hard to keep the mood flowing. You had asked about his hobbies and all the boring stuff you could think of, and surprisingly he would reply with enthusiasm like he have always wanted to be asked those questions. This makes you more curious how his daily life goes, how many people does he actually talk to.

When the hand of the clock drops at ten, you were just patiently waiting for Sylvia to get on her feet and cut the conversation with the others but she seemed to have consumed more alcohol than she could tolerate and the next thing you knew she was laughing like a maniac. You were stuck in a loop circle of smiling so thinly to everyone you get eye contact with.

You distract yourself with admiring the intricate designs of Taehyung's small home, and the thought of a young Taehyung growing up in where you're sitting currently makes your heart jolt. It's uplifting seeing his pictures on the wall, but there was a difference between his smile before and his smile now. One can easily tell which was more true. You had no clue what it's like to be his kind, hell even now you still can't believe what he is. But it sure shows in the way he had changed judging from the innocent photos that hang on the wooden walls. You've never known him since then, yet you wanted to restore this angel-being beaming at the sight of a camera who now hates being in photos because he thinks he's some sort of a monster.

You wanted to ask him about the pictures, the one where he was wearing a towel with a headband, the one where he was framing his face. All of them speak some kind of connection with you, maybe it's your love for photography that makes you feel this way, but innocence is one of the hardest thing to lay your lenses on.

Then you finally got it. What your professor was talking about, drawing something intangible to your camera. This is what he meant. Your gallery is only filled with landscapes, mostly the aesthetic of architecture and nature. Taehyung is what you needed to change the mood of your photos, not the weather, not the dark ambience of Forks, but his story. If only there's a chance for you to grasp his mystery in a single picture, his adventurous smile in one flash.

A pang of pain in your forehead pulls you back into reality, and the lights that stood above you only made it worse. You needed to leave immediately before the pain has you grunting. Welcomed with a wrapping breeze, you brace yourself and regret wearing the dress Sylvia begged you to wear. She said it was her favorite when she was your age, a Prussian blue dress that stops before your knees with tulle around the hem and a lighter blue ribbon on the chest.

Of course Taehyung who sits beside you would notice your leaving, and before you can inhale the fresh air from the porch, he was already asking what's wrong.

"I don't feel so good. I think I'm gonna have to go home alone since Sylvia's still occupied," you said, pushing on your temples with your thumb and middle finger.

"I can drive you home. I don't think they'd notice that we left, they're all pretty wasted." He chuckles, complementing the high tones of the strong wind that travels past your bodies.

"I'm really sorry. I'm being rude, I mean this is your party... your birthday party and you're going to drive me home."

He places the sippy cup on a coffee table near the entrance, and he was palming his pocket to reach for his keys.

"It's fine, y/n. The party's been dead four hours ago and I can't send you home alone. Do you have the house key or should I go back inside and ask Sylvia for it?"

"She gave me a duplicate. I think it's best we go now. My head's really killing me."

It was unusual, headaches. They rarely come to you since you monitor your phone usage and water intake. You hate getting them because you hated taking meds for it, and you just hoped Sylvia would have a stock of it. Your fingers have been roaming your forehead for a while yet you can't seem to navigate where the pain is, where it's beating. It would be better if you could massage it along the ride but you were struggling to even keep your fingers raised.

Taehyung stops the car in the middle of somewhere as you are hitting your head continuously on the head rest. It was quiet, a deafening silence that rang your ears that brought you to open your eyes. Taehyung wasn't in his seat anymore, only fog filling for his place crawling under your skin.

There was your breathing, crickets, and rustles of trees that travel the air. You weren't sure how to react but one was definite, you were scared. The hand resting on your thigh turning white and wet, breathing faster and heavier as the air seems to be corrupted with toxic poison that does nothing but suffocate you.

Don't get out of the car, don't get out of the car, you chant internally hoping it will help your situation.

"Hello, dear," a slinky voice says through the window, almost similar to the man— vampire from yesterday. Could it be? Could there be more? "Don't make me wait, dear. Open the door and make this easy for the both of us, hm?"

It sounds the exact same as the accent the man had with an alluring tone that draws you to open the door. However, it wasn't just her tempting attempt into convincing you to endanger yourself, the pain in your head inflates as you try to control yourself.

"You want it hard, my dear?" She smirks, you weren't sure but you hear the spread of the corner of her lips.

Then she was in front of the headlights, filled with rage, her eyes dark and dangerous as she showed her predacious teeth. From here, you can feel the vibration of her anger as if she had the ability to let you feel all the harnessed emotions inside her. You can count them one by one: anger, vengeance, and the feeling you get before success. None of them were positive emotions, none of them was mercy. She came here to accomplish one thing.

Your death.

Finally understanding it, inside her browbeating eyes were agony and mourning. She was here to avenge the death of the vampire that Taehyung had killed. She was as beautiful, as seductive with her pale skin and ruby lips, curly strawberry blonde hair that flows until her shoulders.

You discovered that there was a split second of slow agonizing memory of your life before it's taken, and you wished there was none. She runs towards you, careless whether she bashes her head into the glass. She takes your neck, her fingers poking specifically at the sides and right before you can regain your breath your eyes open.

Gasping and catching air, awakening in the seat with Taehyung by your side who drives in silence as Midnight Rambler by The Rolling Stones plays from his rusty stereo.

So if you ever meet the midnight rambler

I'm coming down your marble hall

Well, he's pouncing like a proud black panther

Well, you can say I, I told you so

He sits there, unaware of the chaos that repeats in your head. It all felt so real, the grasp on your neck that locks your throat, you could've sworn you've given your last breath. The pain had stopped, replaced by dizziness that you knew would pass as minutes go by. 

"What's wrong?" he asked. "Is there something on my face?"

You shake your head. "I didn't know I was staring."

That's right. You didn't know you were staring. There was so much comfort in knowing he never left, the heat of his presence brings you a feeling of security. It's okay now. Taehyung's still here. By your side.

Once reaching home, Taehyung does his best to assist you as though you were ill. It's cute how he acts that way, so careful, so gentle. Upon reaching your room, Taehyung stops before your bedroom door, almost waiting for an invitation.

"I should get going now. I'll tell Sylvia you felt sick." And before he could say good bye, you're already wrapping yourself in the blankets as he passively makes a step away from your door.

"Taehyung," you said, reaching out. "Thank you for today."

He doesn't turn back. "You're welcome. Also, thank you for coming."

A shiver spreads across your back when your lids start to fall, and your body jolts upwards. The beautiful woman from the early nightmare visits your mind again, her face inches from yours close to ripping it apart.

"Taehyung," you whispered, but he heard you within the thin walls of the lonely house. "Can you... stay for a sec? I... I had a nightmare earlier... felt so real. C-can you?"

He walks back, eyes landing everywhere except your body that waits for him on the bed. Is she serious? he thought as you opened the blankets for a space behind you.

"Until you fall asleep?"

You nod. He kicks off his shoes and he positions himself behind you, both of your breaths synchronizing as he lies down softly. You bury your cheek into the pillow when you feel his warmth wrap the room, the security coming back. You turn your head to see him watching you inches away, his hand keeping his head up as he rests his cheek against it. You take his free hand that lies on his right side, pulling it to your stomach requesting for him to scoot closer until his body brushes your back.

You can stay like this, for longer than you can imagine. Just the sounds of your breaths and the hums of his loud thumping heart that makes its way to your upper back, the release of breath from his nostrils that flies over your hair. Peaceful. Safe and sound.

In his embrace, you forget everything: the packing for Los Angeles, the fear of not getting into any university, the supernatural that you had discovered that you still cannot comprehend, the clouding fear that something is coming to get you. In his arm, it's like they never existed. The worries are nothing but disappearing sea foams, a water in heat that evaporates into thin air.

You enclose the hold in Taehyung's hand above your stomach, intertwining them for ease. Falling back into his embrace, he subtly moves away hoping you wouldn't notice. His warmth turning into heat, breathing ragged, hold on you tighter and stronger. Then you feel it, a gentle thrust behind you and he pretends to adjust position. He pulls you closer with the hand on your stomach and you sigh which caused a poking at your butt.

You may not be the smartest person on earth, but it doesn't take a book to know what it was. Taehyung murmurs an apology, his words passing by your neck which sends your stomach into a spiral. You rub your thighs together hoping to dissipate the throbbing in your core, not now.

Not now that Taehyung's beside you. Or maybe it should be now that Taehyung's beside you, you were open for a helping hand. His hand over your head tucks a strand of your hair, the finger brushing on your temple made your aching much harder to ignore. There would be no distraction, no having to worry about who will hear the both of you, for God's sake the house was built in the middle of nowhere, so you thought 'Fuck it.'

You tug his hand to the middle of your chest, to rest them between your breasts as your head turns to face him. He gulps, looking at you intently with lust hovering over his hooded eyes. You lean towards him, your lips reaching his and he pulls away for a second before diving back in. He had pillowy lips, and if it weren't for your hot need at the moment you would let your lips sleep on them for a longer while, but as of right now there are a lot of tensions that need handling.

You leave his hand on your chest while he's still shy to grope one of your breasts. Your hand then wrapping the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, he sighs. That sigh caused the aching to grow, shaking your behind to feel how needy he was and he sighs again. His hand that was on your chest now pushes below the curves of your breasts to pull you closer, to have more friction, to thrust into you.

Until he couldn't take it anymore, he wants you below him as much as you want him on top of you. He hovers above you, his knee swift in spreading your thighs open and he is bucking in a steady pace on your clothed entrance.

"Take me, Taehyung," you breathe the second he leaves your lips.

He takes it slow, burning your insides, as his fingers pull the bow on your chest, untying the effortless knot you had made in the mirror. Too slow to keep up with your throbbing heat, you trail his hand to open the loose front, exposing

your nude bra. His eyes are pinned on yours, and you would make quick glances at his moderate hand you're directing. You unclasp the front of your bra, and when he hears it setting on the bed, he kisses you as if asking if you were really sure. Beneath the feverish endless kiss were words of fear from him, what if he wasn't truly ready.

The last time he had experienced this was long ago, a time before he knew how dangerous he could be. Careless of what his hands could bring, when he hadn't given a single thought for any of his actions. Well, it was one time, only once with the first girl he had ever loved. And the first was always the quickest, but it was unforgettable, he had kept every detail of her daisy fresh skin remembered under his fingertips. The laughs they had shared in between, a significance of the innocence they were about to lose. His head loses in doubts, questions that can only be answered if he risks hurting you tonight.

Then you whisper, "It's okay, you're not going to hurt me." Because in your mind, that was the last thing in his abilities. You smile, "It's okay." Rubbing circles at the back of his trembling hand, his jaw clenches.

Once he had started kissing you again, you parted his lips with your tongue in which he had replied with a tender bite causing you to moan within your throat. This motivates him to grope your breast, aggressing as seconds pass by, pulling a nipple in between his fingers and you arch your back. You rest your feet on his back, synchronizing with the movement of his hips. You admire the way his head moves downward, stopping after every inch of your skin to place a soft kiss until he reaches your breasts to which he places a long stripe lick moving from one bud to another while his eyes remain on yours. He's going to be the death of you.

You pant, trying to reach his hips that came to a halt. His hands pushing the hem of your dress higher, stopping at the middle of your waist. And his evil slow hands, still taking his time, move behind your thighs to pull them away from his back and placing them on his shoulders as he gets comfortable right between them. With gaze pierced on yours, he flats his lips on your clothed slit, tracing the wet spot visible in your white underwear. The thought of you being almost naked underneath the dress ever since earlier brought Taehyung into insanity, he could've fucked you with his fingers on the couch, he could've removed them and left your pussy out in the open as he keeps it in his pocket, he could've done so many things if only he knew earlier how much you'd wanted him just the same.

You look at the empty ceiling, too affected by the darkness in his stare, you were scared you would cum too quickly if you remain watching. He pulls your garment upward to put his bare thumb against your clit, until you couldn't take it and you look down again to see him putting the said thumb in his mouth. Sweeter than the cranberry juice he'd been tolerating to drink, adding that to the list he could've done earlier while your panties were in his pocket; enjoying the sweet fervor of your cunt on his tongue. He plays at your clit, tongue curling to lap up the wetness that increases as his spit mixes in. He knows so well what he's doing, the fragile scoop of his bottom lip from your opening to your clit where he stops.

Everywhere around his lips glistens as the bright light from the hallway outside your room shines upon them. His hands still holding your thighs steady, he slips his tongue inside you which has you shaking and he had to adjust the control in his grip. Once they've settled, he puts his touch above your breasts, flicking both buds in each hand.

You were crumbling under him, desperate for release, grunting in a throaty voice as you tried to keep yourself together. Tears huddle in your eyes, blurring your vision until he stops, now smiling above you while he pulls your underwear away from your body. It doesn't take long for him to get naked and you take time to admire his build. His skin was made of honey, toned and reflective of the warmth he emits. His cock slapping his tummy before he could fully get out of his tight boxers, his tip reaching his button.

He returns to his position between your thighs but this time around he was the one to wrap your legs around his waist. His shaft falls between your slit and he makes subtle movements in burying himself between them.

"I just want to say," he began, "how amazing you are." A gravelly moan of your name escapes his lips as you take matters in your own hand, thumb going over the head of his cock while the rest of your fingers rest wraps his cock.

He thrusts into your hand. His face forming wrinkles, frustration painted across his face. Until he falls on both arms caging your head, bucking for more friction, enjoying the suppleness of your touch. He was groaning, panting, and making a mess of himself to which all echoes from one wall to another. You put a hand on his abdomen to break his movement. He obeys, feeling you part yourself for his cock, torturously slow in entering you.

You pull your hands to your sides, getting a hold of Taehyung's biceps. Opening your lids to watch his pupils dilate as he rams the rest of his length inside your beating entrance.

"Y/n," he groans, brow knotting together when you clench around him. He's going to fall apart, he thought. You wrap him tighter, letting go of yourself in ecstasy, careless whether you melt into the bed or break it, all is well as long as you're looking into his eyes.

He chants your name again and again in a symphony of continuous moaning, and all you could say is how good he sounds. A compilation of ah's and oh's whenever he reaches your spot, his head brushing against it and it felt like nothing but heaven. More, he wants more, if only he could fuck you endlessly he would. The bed hits the wall in coordination of his sharp thrusts, and he's losing himself in you he couldn't care less if he breaks the walls. In sync with the sounds he makes were your gasps and high-pitched whispers of his name that he can see himself in the near future thinking of them and fucking himself alone in his room as he recalls them.

"Tae— oh fuck, Taehyung," you cried out causing his cock to twitch inside you, you call out for more. His name and a couple of curses were the only words you could spew out. Trembling, you feel an explosion of euphoria inside you, letting go of the tight grip around Taehyung's arm.

With one last fluid thrust, he pulls himself out and spills himself on top of your stomach. Both of your breathing slows until they were no longer audible. He rolls to his back beside you waiting to cool down and you take care of yourself by wiping his cum away with the tissue from the nightstand.

"I'm sorry, I made a mess," he says, breaking silence.

You didn't reply, instead you lie on your side to face him and wrap his cock in your warm hand. His cock still hard and wet under your touch, he breathes out a long sigh. "I made a mess of you too."

He chuckles before placing one last kiss on your forehead, and you watch him fall into his dreams. You shut the door, thankful Sylvia didn't come home during the circumstances earlier. You make a note not to leave it open next time.

Next time? Were you actually hoping for a next time? It's not long until you're leaving. Forks is not your home. Your home is on the other side of the country, and everything you grew up with awaits there. Forks is not your home, you tell yourself. The night grows along with your need for sleep, falling onto Taehyung's chest and getting lost in a slumber. You wake to Sylvia opening the door, an indication of her coming home, and you fall asleep again.

The next time you wake up, the sun shining alight from the windows to your eyes, Taehyung was sitting at the end of the bed fully clothed. His head turns slightly, feeling the sense of your waking.

"Y/n, there's not just one who wants to kill you," he says but you couldn't make out a single word, "there's a whole coven of them."

a/n: happy new year! pls dont take the bella comment seriously. also team jacob ftw!!! also appreciate my banner work owo.this is my first descriptive smut like i actually write them having sex idk i hope yall like it tho :* i love y’all! 

[thescientistowl]

Dawn Eases Night, Chap. 3

Here you go, gang, an update at last. Sorry it took a little longer than I orignally planned - I've been working a lot of late shifts at work so I haven't had as much time to write as I'd like.

We're still in nice territory so there's no nastiness to tag just yet. I keep promising bad stuff, but honestly I just want to write fluff because the bad stuff is coming and I don't like it! I guess that means the summary for this chapter is just... Aloy and Nil being massive softies for each other.

So, please enjoy! It's a little filler-esque, this chapter, but it just had a few things I wanted to get out that I don't think I could fit in any other chapter.

And again, no beta. We die like... spoiler!

Chapter Three - To Call Our Own

     Aloy stepped from her room, feeling the slight rush of air that preceded the closure of the doors. She could still hear Beta gently snoring away – having asked GAIA to leave her doors open just a little – and Sylens was, presumably, still hiding in the room that he had claimed for himself. She still wasn’t used to hearing this place so quiet and still, empty of the several lives that had lived there with her many months. But they had their jobs to do, their own friends and families to visit, and they deserved a break after everything they had been through.

     Her hand reached to her throat, where a red Carja silk scarf was wrapped gently around her neck, and she smiled. She deserved a break too, even if it was only a small one in the greater scheme of things.

     And hopefully, Nil would be happy to see her wearing his old scarf.  

     With a final check that she had everything that she needed, Aloy made her way up the stairs and to the control room. She wanted to check in with GAIA before she left.

     GAIA was, unsurprisingly, waiting for her as she arrived. Her smile was gentle, her eyes kind, and both were warm as they were bathed in the golden light that made up her avatar.

     “Good morning, Aloy.”

     “Morning, GAIA.”

     GAIA motioned to the weapons on her back, and the packs at her sides. “While I appreciate that you wish to recapture Hephaestus, I must ask why you are preparing to venture out when you had previously stated that you were to be taking a break.”

     “I am, GAIA, don’t worry.” Aloy smiled, gesturing to herself. “I can’t keep running myself into the ground, I know. I’m going to head out to Vegas for a couple of days.”

     “To spend time with Nil?”

     Aloy jerked uncomfortably. Was she that easy to read?

     “I could be going to visit Morlund and his friends.”

     “This is true, but given that most of your time there has been with your friend Nil and the racers, I merely assumed that this would be your course of action.” GAIA paused, looking mildly concerned. “I am sorry if I was incorrect. Perhaps my predictive analysis coding requires attention.”

     “No,” Aloy soothed, “you’re fine, GAIA. I am. Going to see Nil, I mean.”

     GAIA smiled and nodded. “Then I wish you a safe journey, Aloy.”

     “Thanks. Would you keep an eye on Beta, please? I don’t trust Sylens to not try and force her into work at some point.”

     “I will.”

     With a parting thank you, Aloy turned and made her way back to the common room, gathering some dried fruits and nuts from the breakfast bar and placing them inside her food pouch. Now she was ready.

     The land outside the western entrance was blanketed in light purple shadows as the sunlight peeked over the mountain behind her. Below sat the shelter that she, Erend and Kotallo had made for their Chargers, one built of old rocks and made to resemble a rockslide that leaned against the bottom of the mountain. It wasn’t an ideal shelter when there was an entire repair bay below them, but they were low on options since GAIA had locked the bay down in order to keep it safe from Hephaestus.

     Buddy had appeared from the small entrance upon hearing her footsteps, and he bleated up at her impatiently.

     “You know where we’re going, don’t you?”    

     Above her Aloy heard the gentle flapping of metal and film, and a shadow descended over her until a Sunwing appeared in her vision.

     “Morning, Birdie.”

     The Sunwing, Birdie, squawked and landed below, next to Buddy. The two machines had, at least to Aloy, appeared to have become friends; two independent override codes that bonded over their mutual love of trying to make Aloy’s ride as uncomfortable as possible when she led them into dangerous situations. She supposed she deserved it.  

     Both machines watched as Aloy climbed down from the edge to join them. Birdie squawked again, tapping at Aloy’s head with her beak.

     “I’m going to go to Hidden Ember for a couple of days, guys, so Buddy,” she turned to the Charger who suddenly started to fidget with excitement, “you’re with me.”

     Buddy bleated happily. Birdie, however, grumbled.

     “You don’t even like sand,” Aloy turned to the winged machine, her hands on her hips. “And the races don’t interest you. Just stay here, for Beta’s sake. Please?” She was begging now. “With Sylens around, she’s going to need to get out every now and then, and I trust you to look after her.”

     Shortly after their defeat over the Zeniths, Aloy had taught Beta how to fly. She was proud that her sister had become a fair flyer, even if Beta herself didn’t like leaving the base too far behind. At least it gave her a sense of freedom and a feeling of control that she had severely lacked for the better part of her life.

     Birdie chirped, tapping Aloy once more with her beak before she took flight, kicking up dust until she vanished from sight behind the mountain. Inside the shelter the remaining Chargers, with their severe lack of personality, bleated until the dust settled.

     “That could have been you, you know.” Aloy pointed at the shelter. “Boring.”

     Buddy chuffed agreeably in reply.

     Turning to face their path down the hill, Aloy thought that perhaps she should check if Nil and the racers were actually at the Stillsands track. She had recently gifted him with a focus, so it would be easy to check.

     She had no intention of dragging him into the impending battle with Nemesis - no, she was not going to ruin his newfound happiness for that – but she had wanted a way for him to see some of the things she could see. She wanted to share some of the wonders of the old world with him, and she couldn’t do that if he didn’t have a focus.

     But this business, with Nemesis and Hephaestus, she was keeping away from him. He had recently seen the inside of a cauldron with her and he had struggled with that, but she knew that if she asked for his help that he would offer his blade, his bow and his life regardless of how uncomfortable the situation made him. She wouldn’t let him do that. Not now.

     But she was getting distracted.

     Raising her hand to her focus she activated it and found Nil’s name on the list of contacts that it held. She had never tried to contact him via the focus network before, and she fleetingly wondered if this was going to be a bad idea.

     “Here goes nothing.”

     Tapping his name, Aloy heard her focus blip, ready to transmit her voice over the vast distance between her and Hidden Ember.

     “Nil?”

     She heard a commotion in her ear, a scuffle, and string of Carja curses.

     Aloy pursed her lips together, trying to contain the laughter that shook her shoulders. With a steadying breath she spoke again. “You okay, Nil?”

     “Aloy?” Nil’s voice sounded… terrified?

     “The one and the same.” Again, she fought back laughter.

     “By the sun, Aloy!”

     “Sorry, I forgot to tell you that I could talk to you with the focus.”

     “You forgot.” His voice was deadpan, and this time Aloy couldn’t hold back her laughter. “How do you forget something like that?”

     “Well, I was in a rush when we last met.”

     “That was weeks ago!”

     Aloy’s laughter died. It was weeks ago, wasn’t it? But she had been so busy trying to figure out how to recapture Hephaestus that she had forgotten to contact him in the meantime.

     She was a terrible friend.

     “I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.” She said, genuinely apologetic as she leapt atop Buddy. It felt like such a hollow apology when said out loud.

     Aloy heard a calming breath come from Nil’s side of the network. “It’s alright, I understand. Whatever the nature of your calling, I am well aware that it keeps you occupied.”

     She smiled, her heart fluttering at both the softness and the kindness in his words.

     “So,” he began, moving on, “what is it that I can do for you, partner?”

     Aloy relaxed as she let Buddy take the lead, knowing full well that he knew the way.

     “Are you at the Stillsands?”

     “Currently I am at my humble abode. The children decided to visit the arena, and I felt no desire to join them.” The smile in his voice was clear. “Should I expect the company of a certain blood-haired huntress?”

     “In a day or two, yes, if Buddy and I don’t run into any trouble on the way.” As if on cue, Buddy led them both away from a wandering herd of Bellowbacks, barely avoiding their gaze. “Where should I meet you?”

     “I believe that would have been obvious.” He chuckled, and in the background Aloy could hear him moving things around in his small, makeshift home. “I shall make you a fine meal when you arrive.”    

     Aloy smiled. He really didn’t like going near Hidden Ember without his squad.

    He continued. “Would you prefer peccary or hare for this meal?”

     “Ooh, I don’t know. Surprise me.”

     Nil chuckled. “Very well, my dearest partner. I shall, once again, amaze and delight you with my culinary skills.”

     “I’m looking forward to it.” Aloy didn’t need Nil to reply, when she could already picture the look of pride and accomplishment on his face.

     Buddy bleated a sharp warning, and Aloy looked up from where her eyes had turned downwards and half-lidded, to find two Ravagers pelting down the hillside towards them.

     “Aloy?”

     “Machines. Nil…”

     “I’ll leave you to it.” He paused. “And I’ll see you soon.”

      “You will.”

     With a tap of her focus the call was ended, and easing her bow from her shoulders, Aloy gave Buddy an encouraging pat on his withers.

     “Alright Buddy, you move, I’ll shoot.”

     Buddy charged forwards, bleating a war cry, and Aloy’s first arrow flew, hitting the leading Ravager’s cannon, shearing it at the joint and sending it flying. Another arrow removed the canon of the second machine, and soon cannisters and armour pieces littered the ground as Aloy and Buddy danced around the enraged machines. A well-placed hit left one of the Ravagers exploding in a shower of sparks, its carcass falling just ahead of them, and Buddy leapt over it as it slid towards him. The final Ravager howled, hurtling towards them, lightning sparking about its body as it prepared an attack. One final arrow, landing squarely in the machine’s optic, and it too fell to the ground in a cacophony of crashing weight and flying metal.

     “Good job, Buddy!” Aloy whooped, patting her Charger firmly on the head. His replying bleat was bright.

     “I’ll just grab a few of those cannisters and we’ll be on our way.”

     Thankfully the rest of the journey was uneventful, save for Beta contacting her and tersely demanding that she be informed before Aloy left next time. Sylens, too, called her, but Aloy elected to ignore his griping.

     It took a day and a half to make it to Hidden Ember, where Aloy decided to make a quick stop to trade her new acquired cannisters with Abadund and the settlement’s newly acquired cook. With them, she bartered for some Carja herbs that had arrived via Camp Nowhere, and two bottles of the better tasting Oseram ale that Aloy found she could stomach. Saying her quick goodbyes to Morlund and Stemmur as she left, she and Buddy headed east and out beyond the ruins, heading towards an ancient plane that had crashed into the hillside centuries ago.

      Their path climbed higher and higher across the dunes until they came to a dirt path along the bottom of a cliff, and they scaled ever further towards the summit. Aloy could see sparsely scattered wrecks of old-world machinery as they rode, before they broke from the established path and made their way to a much smaller, narrower path. At the end of the path, nestled between two rock faces, were the ruined remains of what had once been the body of a plane.

      Nil’s home.

     What remained of the plane itself resembled a metal tunnel, open at both ends, and decorated with the colours of the desert dwelling Tenakth. Outside the nearest entrance was a Charger, one that watched both machine and rider approach with vague curiosity: Nil’s Charger, whom he had affectionately named Devil’s Thirst.

     Nil was nowhere to be seen, but if he had left his mount behind then he couldn’t have gone far. Leaving Buddy in the company of Thirst, Aloy made her way inside.

     He had made some changes since she had last visited, making the sparse space a little more homely. The small and temporary campfire that he usually lit was now a permanent firepit, with a little cooking station and spit set up next to it. There were more tools on the workbench, and a small handmade table and set of stools now sat neatly in the middle of the plane. His storage chest was now etched with carvings of machines - mostly Chargers, she noted – and there were several small figures of machines and humans dotted about the metal shell of the vehicle in various places. Canvas and cloth hung from the roof, some for decoration and some as curtains to block out the weather or the chill of the desert night. He had also made himself a proper mattress of straw and cloth, with his bedroll placed atop it. Aloy noted, with a smile, that there was a second bedroll neatly rolled up next to it, with enough room on the mattress for it to also be laid out.

     They had become accustomed to sleeping so close to one another – something Aloy had never believed she would be able to do with another person.

     She remembered when Nil had first brought her here, following her terrible experience at Thebes, just to afford her a little breathing space away from the brash and lively youths that, though they had meant well with all their clamouring and chattering, had only aggravated her mounting stress.    

     Aloy wasn’t even sure how she had made her way to Hidden Ember, to the Stillsands, that day. She had been in a daze ever since she had returned from Landfall and left Alva in Varl’s capable hands, claiming that she had a few more jobs to do before returning to base. In reality she had needed to clear her head.

     Perhaps Buddy had decided that she needed companionship that didn’t involve anything to do with her mission? Or perhaps instinct had taken control of her, leading her there itself?

----------

Three days after the events of Thebes, at Nil’s shelter…

     “You don’t camp with the others?” Aloy questioned, dismounting Buddy as Nil swung himself to the ground from his own mount and removed his mask. The Tenakth paint on his face was beginning to run from the absurd heat that was battering the desert that day, and he ran his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair, leaving it stuck in all kinds of strange directions and angles. Secretly, Aloy thought it looked adorable.

     Nil himself looked at her with a tired smile as he led her inside. “I did at first, when I became better acquainted with them. But now? No. Too many times did I wake in the night to find either Haxx or Josekk trying to remove my mask.” He placed said mask on the workbench with a small thump, as though for emphasis. “There are only so many times that I can beat some sense into those boys before all sense is actually lost to them.”  

     But Aloy was incredulous, and not about the teens’ behaviour. “You slept with the mask on?”

     “Yes.”

     “Every night?”

     “I thought we had established this, but yes.”

     “Nil…” Aloy sighed, but the smile that grew on her face was apparently infectious and soon Nil was smiling with her – a toothy and all together genuinely cheerful smile.

     She looked around her once more, taking in every detail that she could. There was nothing that betrayed Nil’s Carja roots, and the few decorations or touches of life were purely of the Tenakth style. The shelter itself was far enough away from civilisation to be considered relatively safe, but it was open to the wilds and, therefore, machines or roaming explorers.

     “It is lovely here,” Aloy began, giving him a thumb’s up as she did, “but a little open to the elements. And the markings, they’re Tenakth. Don’t they use this place?”

     Nil shrugged, taking some flint and a piece of metal from the worksurface. “The Tenakth patrols stopped coming out this far months ago,” he knelt by the campfire, striking at the metal, and sparks began to fly. “And I very much doubt that the Oseram would ever venture this far into the desert.”

     (In retrospect, and with the clarification that came from hindsight, Aloy laughed at his words in her memory. Boomer, an Oseram, had in fact briefly stopped at these ruins not long after Aloy’s initial visit – something that had caused Aloy to laugh out loud when she and Boomer’s sister, Delah, had followed Boomer’s trail. Nil, thankfully, had been away that night). 

     Nil gestured for Aloy to take a seat by the fire as it slowly crackled into life and she accepted gratefully, taking in the peace of the slowly dying daylight. She listened to the faint chirps of nearby insects, the occasional grunt of a passing boar, and Nil’s gentle breathing as he moved about his small shelter, stashing his weapons in various safe places around the plane. A warm and comfortable silence enveloped her, sinking into her skin and bones, and pushing away the oh-so-uncomfortable recent memories of obscenely grand walls, cold and sterile, and the unfaltering golden gaze of the man who ended the world…

     She shivered, suddenly cold and clammy, just as she had been during her exploration of Thebes with Alva and the damned Ceo, even when the lava had risen higher and higher, threatening to swallow she and Alva both… and what Faro had become, mutated and all together wrong. An abomination of nature.

     Distantly, she became aware of a voice trying to break her from her thoughts – was it hers, or Nil’s? - but she was in too deep. Memories of Faro’s terrified companions forced themselves to the forefront of her mind, and Ted’s cold and calculating approach to what he clearly saw as a little collateral damage in trying to maintain his image… though why Aloy was surprised, she did not know: after all, Ted Faro had brought about the end of the world. Ted Faro had killed the Alphas that had worked so hard to keep life safe…

     “Aloy!”

     Aloy snapped free from the hold her mind had kept on her, her focus shifting to find Nil’s silver eyes looking directly into hers. Gone was any trace of the easy smile that now seemed to constantly grace his face, replaced instead by a deep concern as his brows knit with worry. His hand was hovering close to her shoulder, as though he had thought about touching her - perhaps to shake her free of her thoughts?

     “Sorry, Nil,” she blinked, shaking her head a little as though it would help rid her of the last few vestiges of Thebe’s ghosts. “My mind just… wandered. I’m okay.”

     Nil hummed, not satisfied with her answer.

     “Really, I’m fine. I just…” Aloy paused, thinking on how to best phrase her words as to not give too much away. “I travelled somewhere a couple of days ago. It was somewhere I needed to go, but it doesn’t mean that I necessarily liked what I found. I guess it’s still on my mind.”

     She watched as his frown grew deeper, his eyes thinning as he looked away. She knew that look – it was a dangerous look, and she had seen it once before during the Battle of the Alight, in the fires of what had been Meridian Village, as a Longleg had tried to kick her into the side of a burning building. She had seen this exact same look cross his face then, made even more deadly by the dark shadows cast by firelight. The roar that had followed as he plunged his blade into the machine’s neck made her blood run cold, and she saw his lips move as he said something else to the machine, his lips curled into a vicious snarl. But it was that fatal strike that felled the Longleg and after the fight was won Nil had turned his gaze to her, as calm as he usually was, as he lamented the destruction around them. To say that the whole experience had been jarring would have been an understatement. 

     But now Aloy watched as Nil sat in front of her, clearly trying to decide if this was a problem that could be solved with violence, and if so, how best to go about it. Aloy simply stared at him, noting the angles of his face from the curve of his brow to the line of his nose, to his strong chin and jaw… and she tore her eyes away before they roamed further.        

     “And what was this place, partner?”

     She huffed a laugh, but it was completely humourless. “Besides a monument to greed and hubris?” Aloy paused, shaking her head to herself. This could sound stupidly ridiculous, considering Nil knew nothing of her ongoing mission to save the world and, therefore, nothing of the world that had come before this one. “It was supposed to be a survival bunker for one of the Old Ones, but it was far too convoluted to be for mere survival. The man that owned it… he was greedy, self-serving, and he cared so little for those around him. He destroyed so many lives. He killed his own companions. And then he made sure that… place would be the death of any intruder.”

     “But you’re alive, Aloy…”

     She paused, ignoring his words as a tremor began deep in her bones. “There was so much fire… the lava, the smoke, the crashing as the whole damn place fell around me. The screams…I honestly thought ‘this is where I’ll die, surrounded by strangers’. I hated it. I hated that place…”

     “Aloy.”

     Nil patiently waited until Aloy’s attention was back in the present before he left her, moving away to his storage chest, his back to her. She watched with vague interest as he lifted the lid and took something from within, and from the movement of his arms he was turning whatever it was around in his hands. He stood almost as still as stone for a long while, but before Aloy’s concern grew too great he turned back to her, a red silk scarf in his hands. The same scarf he had worn during their adventures as bandit hunters.

     He moved back to her, his pace slow and his face uncertain. His fingers ran over the fine fabric in his hands, and as he came to a stop before her, kneeling so that they were almost level, he looked deeply into her eyes. There was so much trust buried beneath his quicksilver irises, coupled with such sobriety that Aloy wondered just what was so important about the material in his hands.

     “Here, Aloy,” he began, gently wrapping the scarf around her neck, “this will suit you better than it ever did me.” He tied the scarf with a simple knot.

     “Nil, I…”

     “I insist.” He finished his work and once again looked so deeply into her eyes. “At least this way it will never matter how far you will travel, nor whatever battles you will fight; you will always have a friend there beside you, in spirit at the very least. And,” he gestured around him, at the shelter, “consider this place as much your shelter as it is my own. You will always be welcome here, Aloy.”

     Aloy felt something warm prickle in the corner of her eyes, followed by an all-encompassing warmth that she had not felt in a long time. It felt like the times Rost had admonished her sternly, all the while with the hint of a smile on his face, for sneaking out to find the food they desperately needed. It felt like the warm grass and blue skies of the Embrace, and the knowledge that a safe shelter stood firmly nearby.  

     It felt like home.

     Nil sat back on his haunches to examine his handiwork. Clearly unsatisfied with something, his hands went to the knot where his fingers reworked it. It was only when he was satisfied that his hands came away from her throat, where they hovered for a few painful seconds before resting on her shoulders, his thumbs gently rubbing at the bone. A tremble rolled through her, starting from Nil’s touch and travelling at speed down her body, and he snatched his hands away as though she had burned him. Or as if he had hurt her.

     “Aloy, I’m sorry.”

     “It’s okay.” She looked up at him, at his wide eyes and his large hands that still hovered closely to her.

     He smiled – a half smile – and lowered his hands.

     Aloy felt her heart sink, and she reached out to him with a hand of her own. Their fingers grazed, and Nil stilled.

     For the longest time they sat in silence, each of them searching the other’s face. Then, slowly, Nil’s hands returned to her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing gently along the bone. Aloy’s hands went to his arms, her fingers closing around firm muscle, warm under her palms.

     They were both trembling.

----------

     Aloy was setting the spices and the bottles of ale on the table when she heard the approaching footsteps outside, accompanied by a quiet chuckle and the words “hello, Buddy”, quickly followed by a happy chuff. Seconds later Nil appeared in the entrance, his mask upon his head and silhouetted in the early evening sun. A peccary hung limp in his hand, lightly dripping blood.

     “Aloy,” the smile in his voice was unmistakable, “I was expecting you a little later than this. Did you rest at all on your journey here?”

     “Maybe.” She returned his smile in full, before gesturing to the items on the table behind her. “Surprise!”

     Nil placed the peccary by the unlit fire before removing his mask, moving over to stand by her side. Aloy’s gaze was instantly drawn the focus on his temple, and she felt a warm flush of pride wash over her.   

     Nil, however, roamed his eyes over the spices, his smile spreading.

     “Powdered dawnpepper, crimson heat…” He picked up each bottle in turn, examining the contents with interest. “Where did you find these?”

     “There’s a new cook in Hidden Ember. I asked if she’d be willing to sell me some of her supplies, and she agreed.”  She tapped one of the glasses with a fingernail. “You always make our meals. I just wanted to contribute something for a change.”

     “You have already done enough for me, Aloy.”

     She looked up to find him gazing down at her, his face full of warmth and his smile gentle. His free hand went to her arm, his thumb softly running across the apex of her shoulder, whilst she wrapped her arms around his middle, pulling him into a tight hug. Aloy felt the rumble of his quiet laughter before she heard it, and soon both of Nil’s arms were around her too.

     “I’ve missed you.” Aloy gave him a gentle squeeze to highlight her point.

     “And I have missed you.”

     They held on to one another for several moments longer before they parted, Nil flashing her a smile as he turned and made his way to his workbench. There, he laid his mask atop it and, after freeing himself from their straps, his armour pieces sat there too. He stood before her wearing nothing but a pair of wraps around his forearms and his green shorts, the yellow scarf from around his neck thrown aside. Aloy tried to keep her eyes from roaming but his chest was everywhere, and with the hair that had been allowed to grow since he had left the Sundom - hair that heavily dusted his nicely sculpted pectorals and stomach - it was becoming an increasingly difficult task.

     It was also something that had not gone unnoticed by Nil himself, much to Aloy’s mounting dismay. It certainly didn’t help that she had, one night, on a visit to Erend whilst he was at Hidden Ember, become terribly drunk off Scrappersap. Consequently, her drunken idiot-self had loudly proclaimed that she was very attracted to her good-friend Red Teeth’s chest hair… just as ‘Red Teeth’ and his squad pulled up outside the settlement to rest after a long day of racing. Truly, she had wanted the earth to swallow her whole there and then, and Erend’s raucous laughter offered her little in support as she was surrounded by feral teenagers who wanted nothing more than to embarrass her further.

     To this day the teens would not let her live it down, especially Haxx and Pekka. But it seemed as though Nil had decided to poke fun at her more than they ever would, stripping himself down to his shorts at every available chance he could safely find when they were alone together.

     “Like what you see, girl?” He smirked, watching intently as Aloy tried so very hard to look anywhere else.

     “Shut up.” Aloy laughed, trying to hide her blush with her hair and failing miserably to do so.

     With one large stride Nil was at her side again, helping her to undo the clasps that held her armour together, until she stood in the plain Nora clothing that she wore beneath, the red scarf around her neck. Her armour joined his in a neat pile atop the workbench.

     One of Nil’s fingers came to rest on her throat, tapping gently at the little part of the scarf that had escaped the neck of her tunic. She watched as his eyes brightened, and the tell-tale quirk of his lips that followed told Aloy everything she needed to know. He was ecstatic that she was wearing it, as he was every time she did, but Nil was trying his very best to play it cool.  

     Aloy grinned. She knew he wouldn’t miss it.

     Eventually, he looked up. “But, please, make yourself comfortable,” Nil gestured to one of the stools, “I’ll prepare the food.”

     “Can I help with anything?”

     “No, absolutely not. You are my guest, and I offered. Besides…” He gave her a sly grin as he began to light a fire. “I’d rather die gloriously in battle, Aloy, and not perish from food poisoning.”

     “It was one time, Nil.” And the last time, perhaps, since the undercooked duck had nearly killed her too.

     “And one time is more than enough, thank you.”   

     Aloy watched as he quickly dressed the peccary, carving chunks of meat from bone and throwing it into his cook pot before tossing the entrails to the vultures outside. He washed his hands with a little water from his nearby skin, before moving to his storage box and producing from inside a bottle of cooking oil, some vegetables and a small bag of rice.

     As he worked on adding a decent amount of oil to the meat, Aloy tilted her head and looked at the focus on his temple once again. “I am really sorry if I caught you off guard before, with this.” She pointed at her own focus, and Nil shrugged.

     “Oh, it was no trouble.” Leaving the meat to fry, Nil began to chop up the vegetables. “I was simply lying quite comfortably in bed, examining strange old-world glyphs, when your disembodied voice spoke so softly and directly into my ear.” He gave her a sharp and pointed glance. “Not once did I believe that your ghost was haunting me.”

     She chuckled. “Sorry.”

     Nil hummed, turning back to his food preparation.

     “So, old-world glyphs?” Aloy started, shifting in her seat so that she could rest her head against the lukewarm metal of the plane. “Does that mean you’ve been trying out your focus?”

     “If, by trying, you mean stumbling through a fog of endless confusion, then yes.” He huffed. “Those glyphs; they are so very unfamiliar to the Carja script.”

     “It takes some getting used to. I think the only reason I learned to read the glyphs so quickly was because I was still a child when I found my first focus.”

     “And children are notoriously fast learners.” Nil stated flatly, adding the now chopped vegetables to the pot. “That is what my nanny would always say.”

     Aloy raised an eyebrow, and Nil froze. She could see from the rapid loss of colour in his face that he had realised that he had made a grave error. This was something new that she had learned about him, and from her meagre knowledge of Carja society, she knew that only the noble families had these ‘nannies’ for their children.

     So, Nil came from a noble family. It was clear, however, that he did not wish to speak of it, if the trembling in his hands was any kind of indication.

     She needed to move away from this subject, for his sake.     

     “Would you like me to teach you how to read the glyphs?”

     Nil’s expression perked up immeasurably, gratitude etched into his face. “I would like that.”

     “Tomorrow, then. It will be an early start – lots to learn.”

     “Aloy?”

     She looked into his eyes, where the warmth in his expression was the deepest.

     “I… when I mentioned…”

     Aloy held her hands up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

     He smiled again, his head tilting to one side as he simply mouthed “thank you.”

     As the darker evening descended upon them, Nil added water and rice to the now cooked meat and vegetables. With a pinch from each spice that Aloy had bought for him, Nil gave the stew a good stir before placing the lid on the pot. The meal was going to be a simpler affair compared to the things Nil usually managed to cook in the wilds, but he certainly knew what foods to combine to make even the simplest dish an absolute delight.

     With nothing to do but wait, Nil moved away from the fire and joined Aloy at the table. Aloy had opened the bottles of ale and handed one to him, which he took with thanks. After a long swig, he placed the bottle on the table and looked at Aloy curiously.

     “There was something on the focus that took me by surprise.”

     “Oh?” A feeling of unease bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Had he somehow seen something about Hephaestus, or worse, Nemesis?

     “Yes. It was… I don’t quite know how to describe it.” Nil frowned. Aloy gave him an encouraging nod, and he continued. “It was as though I was looking upon the ghosts of the past: Our ghosts, haunting metal halls.”

     Aloy let out a quiet sigh of relief, quickly followed by laughter. “You found some recorded footage, that’s all.”

     Nil frowned, though a single eyebrow arched.

     She pointed once again to her own focus. “This records things when it is being used – which is, to say, whenever it’s being worn. It remembers sounds and sights, exactly how things happened, and you can playback that footage whenever you like.”

      “I see. So, the ‘footage’ I witnessed was recorded from our little trip in the cauldron. Does that mean this,” he pointed to the focus on his temple, “is the same focus you leant to me there?”

     “It is, but data can also be transferred from one focus to another. It’s always good to have a backup.”

     “And what is ‘data’, Aloy?”

    Aloy smiled. They had time to kill until their meal was ready, she may as well go into the deeper explanations.

[dabi-anon]

What if I made this my last post.. ever? I mean, I do feel as grand.

I don’t like this.

Things were better than.

Now, there are pieces.

Some too small but way too important to leave behind.

I want to be whole.

I just am tired of hoping and dreaming..

I am not as important.

I am small and.. nothing.

Nil.. it means nothing..

I am Nil.

I wanted to make nothing into something but I can’t..

I can’t.

I am dramatic, posting this on the place where I have more people talking to me..

I am an attention whore.. I hate it..

I am a toxic manipulative bitch..

I am sorry.

- N

[blueeyedrat]

Steam Next Fest! New name, same idea: a large library of demos for new and upcoming games to try out. In between finishing up some games and assorted projects, and starting up some games I've been meaning to get around to, I was able to find time for some demos that caught my eye.

More comments under the cut:

Sable - This was the first and last demo I tried this time around, and it's a game I've been intrigued by for quite a while. I wasn't actually able to finish the demo either time I played; I fell out of bounds and had to restart the first time, and it crashed later on during the second. It doesn't run well on my old laptop, I suppose... which is a shame, because technical issues aside, I was really enjoying it! I don't play open-world stuff all that often, but this one definitely scratched an itch. It reminded me a lot of Zelda with a similar "run everywhere and climb everything" vibe. Gliding through the air and crossing the vast dunes on a hoverbike felt pretty satisfying, too. The designs are distinctive and visually striking, the music is nice, and the demo provides just enough hints about both the setting and Sable herself to leave me wanting more.

Terra Nil - A "reverse city builder" about restoring life to a barren wasteland. I wish I had more to say about this one, but it's another one for the "I wish my laptop could run this game better" column: the demo kept crashing before I could really get into it. I liked what little I was able to play, though. The gameplay was pretty intuitive, and the aesthetic was quite lovely. Will definitely be keeping an eye on this game, one way or another.

Patrick's Parabox - A sokoban puzzler with a recursive twist: rooms nested in other rooms, and in some cases, rooms nested within themselves. The extra dimension adds a fun spin on the base sokoban gameplay, and the demo showcased some fun ways it could be used for puzzles. I recommend looking into it if you're interested in games of this sort.

Harmony's Odyssey - A puzzle game about unscrambling colorful dioramas. The art style's cute and appealing, and the puzzles were fine, but it didn't seem to have a lot of depth beyond its basic mechanic. The interface was a bit awkward, too; the camera was either too far zoomed in to see all of the pieces, or too far zoomed out to see any of them. It was charming enough, but I'm not sure I'll be delving into it further.

Little Witch in the Woods - From one cute-witch-themed game to another, and another game I've been curious about for a while. A chill life sim with a cozy setting, a colorful cast of characters, a variety of flora and fauna to discover, and a focus on magic and potion-making rather than ordinary farming. Very charming, but also very slow-paced. While it is satisfying to process resources and concoct potions, foraging for said resources is a slow grind, and it's all too easy for your efforts to go to waste because you accidentally tossed a potion bottle in the wrong direction. Still, it seems like quite a pleasant time if you have the patience for it. I'm undecided if it's the sort of game for me, but I'm willing to wait and see.

Faerie Afterlight - An exploration puzzle-platformer with a bright, beautiful visual style. Gameplay-wise, the movement feels nice and has potential to be pretty interesting: the demo starts off with your character having just unlocked the ability to jump and wall-jump, you obtain a dash later on, and more abilities will likely come further in the game. It has some unique mechanics (like controlling a secondary character who can interact with gates and possess enemies) and the combat is okay, but the demo stumbles once or twice when it demands you manage all of these aspects simultaneously. Seems like an alright game, even if it didn't stand out to me like other games on this list.

Unpacking - A meditative puzzle game about arranging everyday objects in rooms. This is another one I've been interested in, and now that I've tried it for myself... there's a lot to unpack, if you'll excuse my wording. There's a certain weight to nostalgia and sentimentality, even when it's tied up in mundane objects like books and toys. The comfortable and familiar, the things we keep with us, and the things we discard or leave behind, everyone values them differently. Even in a brief demo, Unpacking manages to encapsulate this idea in a way that few other games can. Each segment is a snapshot of a different moment in a person's life. Through the simple task of sorting through their belongings and finding a place for everything, you learn about this person, and a narrative emerges. What they take with them, what they leave behind, and what they pick up along the way. It's a fascinating little game, and one that could be emotionally compelling in ways I was not prepared for.

OGOPOGO - An arcade puzzle game about making palindrome block chains. ...Have you ever stumbled across a game that feels like it was made specifically for you? I had never heard of this one until a few days ago when I was perusing the Steam demo list. It's a simple concept, but it trips the pattern-finding part of my brain in very pleasing ways. I can see myself sinking a lot of idle time into this one when it comes out.

TOEM - Quite a pleasant game to round out the list. There's been a renaissance of photography games over the past year or so; I still have New Pokémon Snap and Beasts of Maravilla Island waiting in the wings, and I can think of half a dozen other titles either already out or near on the horizon. It's easy to see the appeal, since it's a sort of game that inherently rewards exploration and discovery while also being pretty chill and low-stress. TOEM looks to be a fine example, with a simple, charming black-and-white art style, and a friendly and inviting world to run around in and complete tasks with your camera. Take a picture, it'll last longer.

A few technical bumps on the road, but a nice selection of games regardless. See you next time.

[alivedeanwinchester]

In his color coded speak | 1.3k | tattoonatural (read it on AO3)

The first thing Cas notices while putting Dean's body back together is the ink.

Tattoonatural: where everything is the same except Dean Winchester gets to be the tattooed man he deserves to be and Cas gets obsessed with that.

The first thing Cas notices while putting Dean's body back together is the ink.

Intricate lines etched in skin, some delicate and some violent, all joined together to form black patterns. A skull on the upper arm, that goes together with a dagger just below, a butterfly on the neck that looks fragile just like the skin there, a tiger and a wolf and a fox, a snake crawling up the wrist. Cas has never thought "beautiful" relating to humans before that moment, and it wouldn't be the last time he would think that relating to Dean Winchester.

On the course of those first encounters, Cas always gets himself trying to get glimpses of inked skin, Dean using so many layers and all. Not being able to see it again makes his own skin prickle with something that he can't name.

Getting more accustomed to humans, he learns that those are tattoos, a process where a professional artist inserts ink into the second layer of skin creating images or drawings, he learns that some people give meanings to their tattoos and some just do it because they think it's pretty. Cas keeps wondering which one is Dean's case.

The first thing Cas notices when Anna kisses Dean in that barn is her ring finger, there's a tiny delicate cross tattoo in it, he even gets the irony. The next thing is the way her hand cradles Dean's cheek and that makes his stomach turn in a bitter way that he doesn't quite understand.

Even in the middle of an apocalypse in the making, Cas' curiosity continues to grow, but he seems unable to ask Dean about it. He finds his opportunity in the name of Sam Winchester.

They're sitting on a motel room table and Sam's sleeve lifts when he goes to grab his beer.

"Is that a camomile flower?" he asks.

"Uh... yes" Sam answers frowning.

"I apologize, didn't mean to-".

"No, it's okay, just... uh... it reminds me of Jess, that's all", and Cas waits while Sam strokes his inner wrist where the tattoo is.

"It was our first date and we got a little drunk. There was a tattoo parlour around the corner and she kinda dared me to do it. She even got the idea and the place ready, asked the artist to put some color on it and I just did it... because even then i already knew I'd do anything she asked me too".

They don't talk about it anymore, but Cas can't shake it out of his mind for days. He wonders if someone dared Dean to do it too, if he touches the Orion constellation in his right arm or the compass wind rose in his shoulder and thinks about that person like Sam does.

The night after they try to kill the devil and fail, when everything goes to shit and they lose Ellen and Jo, Dean grabs his arm and takes him downtown, where there's a place in a dark street with a green neon sign and a broken window. Inside, there's a pool table and antifascist posters on the walls. Cas leans on a wall while Dean sits with Joe - a tattoo artist, Cas learns as Dean introduces them - and ruffles through a notebook. He points at something on the page and goes lay down on the tattoo stretcher, his left arm outstretched.

Eventually, Cas approaches them, he sees needle breaching skin and leaving ink behind, he sees the way Joe gets serious when doing a tough line on the drawing, the way Dean looks at the ceiling and seems to be at peace. Later, Cas remembers thinking Dean never looked so beautiful, enduring the only pain that is not forced on them, the pain he allows himself.

Dean doesn't explain anything, doesn't show the new anchor sitting on the inside of his arm to anyone but him. Cas doesn't know if he cares so he doesn't tell him, but anchor tattoos mean stability, peace, strength, determination and passion, some things that dean wants and some things that dean already has but ain't aware of. Cas thinks he understands the feeling, the want of something to focus amidst of chaos, the controlled pain and the mark that stays.

Cas thought that once he had understood, he would stop thinking about them, but he doesn't. He starts wondering what he would do if he would to mark his flesh like this. He doesn't know where this is coming from, but it's always present.

There's always this want when it comes to Dean. He wants to know more, he wants to watch and memorize every feature, he wants to listen, but most of all he wants to touch. That urge is so intense that sometimes he lets his hands linger when he's healing Dean's wounds. He keeps wanting even when the world keeps ending around them.

When they get back from purgatory, Cas does something about it.

Dean finds him in front of a mirror later, with his shirt up and a tattoo sitting on his ribs. They just stand there for a moment, Dean's eyes keep going from Cas' face and his torso and he seems stunned. Cas knows him well enough now to realize what he's thinking, "how contagious can I be to fuck up something holy ", but he doesn't say it, he reaches for it.

When his fingers ghost Cas' skin, he asks "Can I?" and Cas just nods because he doesn't know how to say that there's nothing that he wants more.

Dean touches the letters very softly, alis grave nil , "Wha- what does it mean?".

"Nothing is heavy to those who have wings".

Dean keeps his touch very gentle, he traces the yellow and white lines that resemble a halo and the letters again and Cas just stands there breathing.

"Why? I mean, Cas, it's beautiful, but... I didn't know that you... ", he's standing upright now and looking Cas in the eyes and Cas wants.

"Because I wanted Dean" and aren't they all in this mess because Cas dared to want things he couldn't have, because Cas dared to feel and to fall?

Dean reaches again, his palm against cas cheek. They breathe together for a moment and then Dean kisses him.

Cas always dreamed about telling Dean that it's okay to want things, that he deserves good things and that he isn't broken, and that even if he was, Cas would choose him over and over again, but he never knows enough words for that.

So he shows him. With the softness of his lips and the wetness of his tongue and the grip of his hands. In the way he pulls Dean's hair just enough to hear a moan from him, in the way he pushes him to bed, and sits in his lap, the way his fingers drag on Dean's side when he lifts his shirt. In the soft way he opens him up and fills him in and in the hard way he thrusts when Dean asks for it.

Dean started tattooing himself when he was fourteen because he needed the needle pain to ground him, something he could control, something that was only his. To prove the universe that his body belonged to him and not to his father or the violent life he was going to live. Cas started tattooing himself after he raised a soul from perdition and fell so irrevocably in love that he needed to manifest in his body where he really belonged. Not in Heaven or Purgatory or the Empty, but at Dean Winchester's side.

Cas gets to want things now and to have them and Dean learns to ask for more. And if Cas gets to trace Dean's tattoos with his tongue these days, neither Heaven nor Earth get to know about it.

[calenheniel]

In Fantasy, a frozen fanfic | Chapter 1

Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | G+

In a desperate bid to save their country from political and financial ruin, King Agnarr and Queen Iduna of Arendelle strike a deal with a former foe, King Albert of the Southern Isles. His price? That their firstborn daughter marry his thirteenth son.

Previous installments: Prologue

Follow updates: #InFantasyFrozen

For Helsa Week 2021, Day 1: Parenthood. @helsaweekmasterlist

Author's Note: This is a draft, exclusively available on Tumblr. I have literally the outline for every single chapter following this written, but not fleshed out into readable form yet... so this is all you are going to see for a while. It took me a while to write, as you can probably tell. Enjoy and please leave feedback.

»»————-　❈　————-««

Chapter 1

Snow pattered soundlessly against the arched window of the king’s study as he and his wife sat across from one another at his desk, reviewing the morning’s mail by candlelight. The fire crackled loudly in the hearth a few feet away, bringing a warm glow to the otherwise dim and drab space.

Iduna looked out briefly through the glass panes, the outside world obscured by the total darkness of the winter months. She was just able to make out the snow flurries of white and gray, and beyond that, under the lanterns lining the walkway to the castle gates, she imagined she could see the slow and halting movements of the castle’s servants as they shuttled through the gates and back. The town square, and the fjord beyond it, were entirely hidden from her view.

She shivered, drawing her heavy fur robe closer around her frame, and the small movement was enough to cause her to lose her grip on the letter opener in her other hand. It cut the side of her thumb as it clattered to the desk, and she released a small cry of surprise and pain as droplets of her blood fell on the envelope at the top of the unread stack, staining it red.

“Oh, dear,” Agnarr sighed, pulling a handkerchief from his chest pocket and wrapping it around her open wound. “You must be more careful with that.” He eyed her chattering teeth with concern. “Is the new robe helping even a little bit?”

Iduna looked away. “You know how difficult my… condition has been,” she said, gazing down at her swollen belly. “Even in rooms with the best-tended fires, I’m always cold.” She touched the collar of the robe, shooting him a small glare, and added: “Anyway, it’s not as if you paid for this yourself.”

Agnarr frowned but said nothing, returning his attention to the mail after another sharp look from his wife. His eyes widened as he examined the seal, and he paused, causing Iduna to glance at it with curiosity.

“Who is it from?”

He swallowed and began to open the letter, avoiding Iduna’s still-drying blood splatters. “The Southern Isles,” he said at length, causing her face to darken.

“Speak of the devil,” she grumbled.

He read it in silence to himself at first, but at Iduna’s unnerved expression, he passed the paper to her. She reluctantly accepted it.

Dearest Agnarr and Iduna,

Allow me to pass on my belated congratulations to you both for the auspicious news of your first child’s coming! While I was surprised to hear that the delivery date is so soon, you cannot imagine the happiness this has brought my family and I, and especially to my youngest son, Hans. He is eager to meet his future wife and in-laws. Rest assured that we will be the first guests to arrive for her christening.

I have ordered a small gift for my future daughter-in-law which you should receive in about one month, just in time for her birth. Please accept this as a token of our continued friendship and soon-to-be unbreakable bonds of family. I look forward to hearing what you think of it when we meet again in person soon.

Yours respectfully,

Albert

Iduna scowled and crumpled the letter in her unbandaged hand. “How can he be so sure it will be a girl?” she muttered. “The nerve of that man! We should never have told him that I am with child.”

“He would’ve found out eventually, whether we did or not,” Agnarr pointed out, sighing. “And besides, we did wait a while – probably too long – to write to him about it. Which he obviously picked up on.” He gestured for Iduna to hand him the ball of paper, which she did while sporting a glower. “I’m not sure there’s any need to be so sullen, dear. Nils said it was likely to be a boy.”

Iduna opened her lips as if to speak, but her face suddenly paled, and she collapsed from her seat to the floor, holding herself up on all fours. She groaned with pain as her husband rushed to her side, panic flashing across his eyes.

“Agnarr,” she moaned, “I think—I think it’s time…”

»» —— ««

Agnarr paced outside the bedroom, his features hollow and drawn from sleeplessness. Iduna’s moaning echoed from inside the room out into the hallways, and the sight of various attending ladies scurrying in and out of the room with fresh sheets and bowls of water did little to ease his worried mind.

He had long since dismissed his councilors from the scene, finding their hovering presence unnecessary at best—and unsettling at worst. Their questions about the queen’s health, while infrequent, were regular enough to cause the king to lose his temper and bark that it would not improve just because a gallery of onlookers wished it so. Sympathetic to their young monarch, they had left him in the care of the servants, and so he had waited, alone, for many hours to hear a spot of better news.

The grandfather clock at the end of the hall struck ten just as the door reopened to reveal the royal physician, who wore an equally exhausted expression. His hands, though recently washed, still had specks of the queen’s blood dotting the wrists and under his fingernails.

“Nils! It’s been an age. What’s going on?” he demanded, pulling the older man aside.

The physician stifled a frown. “I don’t have much news to share right now, Your Majesty. She is still in labor, just as before. We are doing everything we can to keep her comfortable.”

Another groan from Iduna resounded in the background, and Agnarr shot Nils a dark look. “You call that ‘comfortable’?”

The noise began to wane as they listened to the head maidservant, Gerda, whisper to the queen inside the room. The king’s expression softened. “Please, Nils,” he began again, “you’ve been here since my father was a young man. I know you’ve seen almost everything in your time.” He placed a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “Just give me your honest assessment of what’s happening. I need to know if she—”

Agnarr broke off, swallowing a sob that threatened to choke him. Nils patted the king’s hand on his shoulder, taking it into his own, and sighed. “It’s difficult when the baby comes this early, Your Majesty. And with Her Majesty being in labor for so long…” He paused, squeezing the king’s hand. “I will do everything I can to keep her and your child alive. That you can rest assured of.”

Agnarr looked back at him with tears straining his vision, his lips just barely forming the beginnings of a grateful smile before a terrible cry erupted from inside the bedroom.

“All of you, out!” Iduna screamed, and then said something else in a voice too quiet to be heard. A flurry of attending ladies rushed out of the room, and the king broke away from Nils to rush to the doorway.

He was met there by a tired, distraught, but somehow still defiant Gerda. “No,” she said, stopping him in his tracks. “She needs to rest for a moment. I’m sorry, Your Majesty.”

Agnarr scowled. “Gerda, for God’s sake, let me in—”

Nils placed his hand on Agnarr’s shoulder, silencing him, and nodded to Gerda. The older woman shot the king a frown, and then sent a grateful look to the physician as she walked away from the door.

Agnarr turned on him. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Fru Gerda is correct, Your Majesty. It is not your place to intervene.” At the king’s heated look, the physician dropped his hand from his shoulder, resting it on the doorknob as he took a step inside the room. “I’ll bring you more news as soon as I have it, but for now… please, try to get some rest.”

Agnarr watched in defeat as the physician closed the door behind him, and finally slumped into an armchair beside the room, his head lolling forward as he began to drift towards slumber.

»» —— ««

“Your Majesty?”

The king awoke to the gentle shaking of his shoulders, and his eyes blinked open slowly. He groaned as his vision finally cleared, seeing Nils. “How long have I been asleep?”

The physician smiled. “Only a few hours.”

Agnarr nodded, placing his aching head in his palms, and then with a suddenness that took Nils aback, it shot up in alarm and stared at the bedroom door. “It’s so quiet—what’s happened?” He stood from the armchair, grabbing the physician by both shoulders. “Is she all right?”

The strange, new sound of an infant’s babbles surfaced from behind the door. The king’s eyes widened as his grip relaxed, and he stared at Nils in wonder.

“Is that…?”

The old man’s smile widened. “Yes, Your Majesty. And Her Majesty is fine now, enjoying a well-deserved rest.” He sighed with contentment. “It truly is a miracle for the child to have been born so healthy, and of normal weight and size, in spite of everything.” He took one of the king’s hands in his own, patting it. “Would you like to meet your newborn daughter?”

Agnarr’s face paled. “Daughter?”

Nils nodded, and looked sheepish. “Yes, Your Majesty. I’m afraid my prediction of her sex was rather inaccurate.”

The king paused, and plastered on a smile, though light droplets of sweat beaded at his forehead. “No matter,” he said, and inhaled as he nodded towards the bedroom. “Lead the way.”

Agnarr entered to find his new daughter in Gerda’s arms, bundled up and half-asleep, a smattering of light blonde hair visible on her soft scalp. Iduna lay in the bed just a few feet away, sleeping quietly, the only visible sign of the previous day’s strain being the pallor of her skin.

The older woman smiled at his coming despite her obvious fatigue, meeting him halfway across the room. “Should I make arrangements to announce the birth of the princess, Your Majesty?” she whispered, looking with fondness down at the infant.

Agnarr shook his head. “Not yet,” he replied after a moment, unable to tear his eyes away from the girl. “At least, not until the queen awakens, and can meet her daughter properly.”

Gerda nodded, casting a pitying glance at Iduna. “Quite right, Your Majesty. The poor woman was barely able to speak a word to the child before drifting off.” She gently handed the baby to its father. “We’ll leave you three alone for a little while. I’ll be back with refreshments for everyone soon.”

At this cue, she and Nils exited the room, closing the door behind them. Agnarr sat in a rocking chair beside the fireplace, his gaze fixed to the sleeping babe in his arms, and his apprehension and fear gave way to a warm, glowing smile.

“Don’t worry, child,” he murmured, and tucked the sleeping bundle closer to his heart. “I’ll protect you.”

»» —— ««

The queen awoke to the same darkness that had greeted her the morning before, but also to the sound of creaking wood. She squinted and saw, with delighted surprise, her husband and daughter sitting together by the hearth.

“Agnarr?” she called in a soft, weary voice.

He looked up with dark circles under his eyes, but his expression was radiant as he walked to her bedside. “My dearest, you’re finally awake!” He handed her their child with infinite tenderness, sitting next to her. “I think she looks like you,” he remarked.

Iduna gazed down at the still-sleeping infant with some bittersweetness, and then back up at her husband. “Has the birth been announced yet?” she asked, unable to hide the anxiousness from her voice.

He shook his head. “No. I wanted to hold off until you were awake.”

“Good,” Iduna sighed with relief, brushing stray strands of the white-golden locks from the child’s eyes. Her nose wrinkled. “I can’t believe that old bastard was right all along,” she muttered. “How did he know?”

Agnarr wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t think of such things now,” he chided her, and returned his attention to the baby. “What shall we name her?”

Iduna frowned. “I hadn’t thought of any names for a girl.”

“I know, but…” He paused. “What about Elsa?”

Iduna blinked. “Elsa?”

He nodded. “Yes. It was the name of my favorite cousin. She died when I was still a boy—fell through ice while skating. This could be a good way to honor her memory.”

His wife frowned. “Agnarr!” she protested. “That’s far too morbid. Can’t you think of anything else?”

Before the king could reply, the infant nuzzled up against her mother’s breast and hiccuped, drawing her parents’ attention away from their dispute. Agnarr glanced at his wife with a cheeky smile. “I think she approves of her name.”

Iduna sighed, and could not help but smile in return. “Fine. Elsa it is, then,” she agreed.

They watched her for a while longer before Agnarr glanced up at the clock on the bedside table. “I should have Nils check on her, and make sure everything’s all right,” he said, and stood.

Iduna grabbed his hand and brought him back to his seat. “Not yet,” she said. “I want to enjoy this time we have with her, before all the hullabaloo starts up.” She patted his hand before letting it go. “But do fetch us something to eat. I’m famished.”

He bowed his head. “Of course, dear.”

She nodded her thanks. As he opened the door, he looked back on the blissful sight of his wife and daughter together, perfectly content, and smiled.

»» —— ««

Agnarr carried the tray of biscuits and tea with deliberate and careful steps as he made his way down the hallway from the kitchens back to the bedroom, chastened after nearly dropping the whole set a few minutes before in his unfamiliarity with the task.

Gerda, walking behind him, fretted over his apparent clumsiness. “Your Majesty, please, won’t you let me bring it to the queen?”

“It’s fine, Gerda,” he refused, trying to wear a reassuring smile even as it was clear he was concentrating intently in order not to trip. “I won’t break anything, I promise.”

The older woman muttered under her breath, following him despite his protests until they were a few paces from the bedroom door. At that point, after a sharp glance from the king, she relented and left him to his own devices.

Alone again, he sighed, placing the set down gingerly on the armchair by the door. “I’m coming in!” he called to Iduna, resting his hand on the doorknob.

A shriek from the queen, followed by the sound of their baby’s wailing, almost made the king fall back in surprise. He rushed into the room in alarm—only to find himself frozen in place by the sight that greeted him.

Their child lay crying on its back on the bed, a swirl of snow surrounding its tiny body. The queen was pressed up against the wall beside it, her entire frame shaking as she stared at the girl in open terror.

Agnarr regained his bearings long enough to close and lock the door behind him, drowning out the distant cries of worry from Gerda down the hall, and then sprinted towards his daughter. He gathered her up and pressed her into his chest even as a cold wind and snow whipped around them both, making him shiver.

As his warmth slowly enveloped her, however, so too did the strange elemental effects dissipate, until finally the baby was quiet again.

He sighed as he sat on the bed in exhaustion, and nodded for Iduna to join him. “Everything’s all right now,” he assured her. The baby whined a little. “She just needs to be fed.”

The queen returned to his side with caution, her face still drawn, and eventually took the child back into her arms. With a trembling hand, she unbuttoned and pulled aside a flap of her nightgown, pressing the infant to her exposed breast.

To both parents’ surprise – and relief – the child suckled without further dramatics, and Iduna released a long, shuddering sigh.

»» —— ««

Several minutes and harried exchanges with Gerda later, the child was asleep again in her mother’s arms. Her innocent, peaceful face gave no indication that she was aware of the fuss that had just taken place around her.

Once she was sure that the child would not stir, Iduna placed her on the bed, nestling her among the pillows and fresh sheets that Gerda had insisted upon providing (even though she had been disallowed from setting them up within the room herself, much to the woman’s displeasure). She remained sat on the edge of the bed, silent, taking little comfort in their temporary respite.

Agnarr had been quiet since the baby’s extraordinary display, pacing between the hearth to warm himself, and the door to shoo any interruptions away from the room.

She swallowed, and spoke at length. “It’s because of me,” she whispered, looking at the ground with shame. “It is my blood that has caused this.”

The king paused in his nervous walk to look at his wife, perplexed. “What do you mean?”

She would not meet his stare. “Do you remember how we first met?” she asked.

His head cocked to the side as he walked towards her, stopping just short of the bed. “Of course,” he replied. “I was sixteen, making the rounds with my father meeting townsfolk, and you were selling bread at market… but what does that have to do with anything?”

She hesitated at the question. “That… wasn’t actually the first time we met.”

He frowned, crossing his arms. “What are you talking about, Iduna?”

The queen pressed her hands together in front of her, her brows stitched in thought, and finally met her husband’s gaze. “It was during the battle in the Enchanted Forest. You were knocked unconscious when some large rock came loose, and I…” She reddened. “I got us out of there before the forest was sealed off, and left you with some soldiers who had managed to escape. They brought you back home, and I fled into the mountains.”

Her vision misted over as the memories returned to her. “Luckily, I was found by a kindly older woman and her husband there. They were never able to have children of their own, if you remember,” she said, “so they took me in, without question, and taught me their trade.”

The king stared at her in dumbstruck silence; after a time, his arms uncrossed, and he pulled over the rocking chair from the fireplace towards the bed, sitting down again. “When we met at market,” he drawled, “I asked you if I’d seen you before. Do you remember?”

She blinked in surprise, and then nodded. “You denied it at the time,” Agnarr noted, one eyebrow raised.

Iduna grimaced. “I was afraid you would find out the truth.”

He connected the threads with sudden clarity. “That you were one of them,” he said, his eyes wide. “One of the Northuldrans.”

Her face grew hot. “Yes,” she admitted. “I never told you before, because I know the history between our peoples. Because of what happened to your—”

At Agnarr’s darkening expression, she stopped, curling her fingers around the cloth of her nightgown in her lap. At length, the king turned his stare on the sleeping child in the bed next to her. “And what of our child’s powers?” he asked. He eyed Iduna with suspicion. “Did you know she would be born with such abilities?”

Iduna sighed, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “It was just as much a surprise to me as it was to you. None of the Northuldrans have had such powers—not for several generations, at least.” Her brow grew furrowed. “In the old days, it is said that some of my people gained them through their relationship with the spirits of the Forest. I don’t know how, but it seems as if Elsa has inherited some of this magic.”

The king said nothing, and stared blankly at the painted blue wall behind the bed.

Iduna trembled. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I should never have kept this hidden from you.” Her eyes were full of fear as he remained silent. “Please, Agnarr, say something, lest I lose all hope.”

Her husband’s frame was taut, and his expression betrayed nothing even as he began to speak. “Do you know what happened to my mother—Queen Rita?”

Iduna was taken aback by the question at first, pausing to collect her thoughts. “Only that she disappeared when you were still a child, never to be seen again,” she recalled, eyeing Agnarr with a growing sense of dread. “Your father blamed it on evil spirits, if I remember correctly.”

Agnarr’s lips were pressed together in a thin line. “He was already a superstitious man before that happened, and afterwards…” The king sighed, and slumped forward in the chair. “He considered the mere existence of an ‘enchanted’ forest anywhere within his realm to be a personal insult, even if its inhabitants exhibited no special powers.” He looked at her morosely. “And you know how that ended.”

Iduna swallowed, and made no reply.

The king looked pained by his memories. “I still don’t know what really happened to her,” he said, “though I think I understand why she left. My father thought that buying her trinkets was enough to demonstrate his affections, but… she missed home, and her family. And he never grasped that.” He frowned. “In fact, he took offense at it. Which only made her more miserable.”

Agnarr paused for a while, and weariness overwhelmed his previously stern countenance. “My father was wretched with grief and anger for years after she left, and I cannot blame him for that. I imagine I would feel much the same if I lost you.”

Iduna stared at her husband in surprise, and then her lip quivered as she threw herself into his embrace, burying her weeping face in the crook of his shoulder. He held her shuddering body tightly, his eyes closed as he kissed her exposed cheek.

“Oh, Agnarr,” she said through muffled sobs, “I’m so sorry.”

He held her as he waited for her crying to subside, and then asked in a gentler manner: “Do you know anything about our daughter’s magic, Iduna? Are there any stories about such powers among the Northul—your people?”

His self-correction made Iduna smile, and she glanced back at their child. “I’ve forgotten most of those stories, truth be told,” she said. “I’ve been in Arendelle too long, I think.”

Agnarr nodded in understanding. “That’s all right, dear, I was only wondering—”

“Wait,” Iduna interrupted, sitting up in her husband’s lap with a start. “There was one old Northuldran legend, about a Snow Queen… she was said to have frozen over entire kingdoms that refused to obey her will.”

At the king’s paling expression, Iduna nervously added: “It was probably just a fairytale made up to scare children, and teach us right from wrong. I doubt our little Elsa would ever be so powerful as to do such fantastical things.”

Agnarr’s lips twisted into a frown, and he raised Iduna off his lap and onto the bed as he stood, pacing again. “We cannot be sure,” he said, his hands clasping behind him. He stared at Elsa with concern. “My father did a fine job of scaring the wits out of everyone in the kingdom with his tales of the evils of magic, and inculcating the same prejudices in them which he held himself. Even if her powers never reached such heights as the stories describe, the fact that she has them at all is—” He shook his head, his troubles mounting. “We’ve only just forged a hard-won peace with Weselton, and secured some new trade routes that had previously been closed to us, no thanks to my father. And all of that would be at risk if they knew, let alone…”

Iduna caught his meaning as he stopped in his tracks, and the two exchanged a long, uncomfortable look.

“Albert,” she finished for him, her mouth dry. “He cannot know about this, Agnarr.”

The king’s expression was bleak. “No,” he agreed, “he cannot.”

Iduna trembled. “Well, that settles it,” she said, trying to sound resolute. “We’ll teach Elsa how to conceal her powers, so that no one ever finds out about them. That way—”

“It’s impossible, Iduna,” Agnarr cut in, pressing a hand to his forehead. “We cannot keep such magic in check forever. And besides, it… would be too cruel to ask that of her. She will not understand.”

“It’s the only way, Agnarr,” his wife insisted, though her lips quivered. She bit them to keep them still. “If we explain to her why it’s necessary, and keep her safe within the castle, away from the town—” Iduna broke off, unable even to convince herself of the workability of her plan, and tears began to collect in her eyes once more.

Agnarr could not keep the despair from his own voice. “Even if we could manage it, and keep her hidden away until she comes of age,” he murmured, resting a hand on her shoulder, “how, then, could we ensure that she would not reveal her powers to her future husband?” He frowned. “If that boy is anything like his father, he would no doubt try to manipulate her, and use this great power to suit his and Albert’s purposes.” He shuddered. “I cannot allow that to happen.”

Iduna stared at the child, her brow bearing the weight of defeat. “But what can we do, Agnarr?”

The king stood stock-still in contemplation, relying on every fiber of his remaining self-composure not to collapse back into the chair. A creeping shadow of gloom crawled across his face, darkening his brow. “There may be a way,” he said, swallowing.

At Iduna’s forlorn, questioning look, he continued: “Before my mother left, when she was at the height of her suffering, she would talk sometimes about a magical race of creatures that had the power to ‘heal’ her.” He paused, and clarified: “Trolls, apparently, living in a valley somewhere in the mountains above Arendelle. She said they could perform all manner of spells, and I heard her talk in her sleep once or twice about wanting to go see them.”

Iduna stared at her husband in disbelief. “Trolls.”

He reddened. “Yes, well,” he said, “I realize how absurd this sounds, Iduna, but…” He glanced at Elsa. “Now that I’ve seen what our child is capable of, the idea of magical trolls doesn’t seem so farfetched.”

“What are you saying, Agnarr?” Iduna snapped, shaking her head. “That your mother went to see them? That they helped her… ‘disappear’?”

His shoulders raised in defensiveness. “I don’t know,” he conceded, “but what if that were the case? What if…” He sat back down in the rocking chair suddenly, staring at Iduna with clear eyes. “They erased her memory.”

Iduna frowned. “How can you be sure?”

“I’m not,” Agnarr admitted, “but if the trolls are as powerful as she said, then… it might explain where she ran off to, and why she never came back.” He sulked. “I wonder if father knew.”

Iduna took in this speculation with confusion and annoyance, pressing a hand to her right temple as she sighed. “Even if that is what happened,” she began, trying to keep the impatience from her voice, “what does any of this have to do with Elsa?”

Agnarr struggled to answer for a time, unable to articulate his thoughts. At his wife’s expectant stare, he offered: “We could take her to them, and ask them to… remove her powers.”

The queen shot up in alarm. “Have you gone mad?” she hissed. “Do you have any idea how sacred and special her magic is?” Fury alit in her blue irises. “It is a gift, Agnarr. No matter what your father – or anyone else – thinks or says, it is a part of her eternal soul. To take it away from her would be akin to spitting in the eye of God himself.”

“Then what do you suggest?” the king retorted, exasperated. “What other choice do we have?”

Iduna’s anger faded as she contemplated the question, and her expression grew melancholic. Agnarr, sensing the shift in her mood, placed one hand on hers. He noted that it had gone cold.

“What is it, Iduna?”

She stared at him in quiet desperation, and before she could stop herself, her face sunk into her hands, and she wept.

»» —— ««

“Is everything alright, Your Majesty?”

The question weighed on Agnarr more than the physician expected, and the latter exchanged a glance with Gerda as the doors to the king’s private study were closed behind them by a guard. The dark, windowless room seemed impossibly small, lit up only by a candelabra on the desk between the king and his guests, though a keen observer could notice its impressive depth and height through the flames.

Agnarr’s head was bowed for a moment, and when the silence grew too difficult to bear, he released a shaky exhale. When his gaze met theirs, they were stunned to find it fresh with tears.

“The child passed this morning, in the queen’s arms,” he said, his voice tremulous from grief. “Just after we named her—Elsa.”

Gerda’s hands flew to her mouth to suppress a cry, though she began to sob into her handkerchief soon after. Nils entered a state of shock, staring at the king in utter bemusement.

“But, Your Majesty… how is this possible? I saw the princess just a few hours ago, healthy as a newborn could be.” He shook his head. “How could her condition deteriorate so suddenly? Why…” He frowned deeply. “Why did you not call for me sooner, if she was—”

Agnarr rose his hand, quieting the physician. “It all happened very suddenly, I assure you,” he murmured. “It seems you were right after all, Nils, about the dangers of premature birth.” He closed his eyes, and his lips trembled. “I only wish we had not glimpsed what could have been, before the end.”

Nils’s frown eased, but only slightly. “Your Majesty,” he began more gently, “please, let me see the child. It will help me to better ascertain what happened, and be sure of Her Majesty’s health as well…”

The physician trailed off as he realized that the cold determination in the king’s eyes would not allow for further argument. “She needs time alone with the child – with Elsa – to grieve, in her own way,” Agnarr said. “Then, we will relinquish it and make preparations for the funeral.”

“But sire,” Gerda mustered the strength to speak through her tears, “it’s not proper. The child’s body, it will—” The woman gave in to a fitful sob at the thought before continuing. “It will cause Her Majesty great sorrow to see the princess that way.”

Nils did not speak, but his grim expression indicated his agreement with the maidservant.

Agnarr’s mouth pressed into a thin, firm line. “These are the queen’s wishes,” he stated, “and it would only cause her greater sorrow to take the child from her so soon.”

Gerda hid her moan of anguish in her handkerchief, and Nils patted her on the back, his frown etched into his wizened features as he stared at the king. “Very well,” he relented, bowing his head. “We will wait until Her Majesty’s mourning period is over.”

Agnarr gave a faint nod of thanks. “I appreciate both of you – your service, and your care – through all of this,” he said. Turning to Gerda, he added: “Leave any meals outside of the room for the evening. I will bring them to her myself.”

The older woman managed a nod in return, the cloth in her hands barely stifling her constant sniffles.

He turned his back on them, his hands clasped behind him. “You may go,” he said.

Agnarr waited until he was sure that they had left to release a deep, shaking sigh. He gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white, and then exhaled again, turning his attention to the tiered bookshelves which lined either side of the room, stretching out into the darkness of the far wall.

With sudden and frantic energy, the king began to rifle through the books, coughing and sneezing through the clouds of dust and cobwebs which greeted him as he pulled them off the shelves with little regard for their long-undisturbed state. His initial, methodical skimming of the first shelf was quickly replaced by mere glances as he ripped books from the successive ones, clearing out rung after rung, unsure even of what he was seeking.

Long minutes that felt like hours passed in this way, and by the time Agnarr reached the far end of the room – though he was only halfway through the stacks – he leaned back against it, spent of his energies and despairing of the futility of his quest, resting the candle in his hand down on the floor.

He sat there in the gloom of his father’s former study, now his own, caught in a state of bewildered insomnia when he brushed his hand against the candle, causing it to tip over to the ground. Luckily, he reacted fast enough to put out the flame that began to catch on a nearby loose sheaf of paper, and turn the candle back upright. As the remaining smoke tendrils rose from the burnt page, he sighed, accepting even this small bit of relief.

Agnarr.

The king’s back was rigid at the familiar voice, and he stared out into the darkness with terror in his eyes.

“Who—who’s there?” he whispered, looking to and fro. When nothing answered him, he curled his hand around the candleholder at his side, though he dared not move from his seat. His lip quivered. “Show yourself!” he demanded, unnerved.

A sighing wisp of a sound encircled him, causing the flame of his candle to flicker and dance, and then seemed to disappear into a corner of the room to his left. Agnarr followed its path with wide eyes, seeing it end somewhere at the very bottom shelf on the other, untouched side of the room. He grabbed his candle, ignoring the burn of hot wax as it dripped onto his bare hands, and held it towards the spot where the voice had led him.

There, nestled between inconspicuous volumes bound in the same, dark brown leather as most of the other tomes in the room, was a slightly larger and red-colored spine. He pulled it out with greater care than he had for any other book in the study, surprised by its heft, and gently laid it down on the wooden floor below. He blew away the dust that obscured the text on its cover.

Even when it became legible, however, the king found that it was comprised of ancient runes in which he had no education or training, and so he could make little sense of what its contents might be. When he opened it to the first few pages, paragraphs upon paragraphs of the same, unreadable runes greeted him.

“Very helpful,” he muttered to himself, glaring at the candle’s steady flame in his hand. “I must be going mad,” he said, sighing, and moved to place it back on the shelf.

Forgetting its weight, the book fell from Agnarr’s hands as if in protest, and as it banged onto the hard floor, it opened to a section that he had not yet seen. He held the candle with trepidation and curiosity over the pages, careful not to drip any wax onto them, and his eyes widened as he got a better look at their contents.

On the left was a page of runic script, but on the right was a faded illustration of a mysterious, dark creature with narrow, yellow eyes, its hands raised to the sky. Below it lay the sleeping body of a man on a carved stone bench – a nobleman, or perhaps even a king, Agnarr thought, from the looks of his fine raiment and armor – and from the man’s head, extending into the sky, were swirls of smoke and clouds of fantastic colors, all intermingling to create a stark and foreboding image.

The king shuddered at the sight even as he was unsure of its meaning, and he ran his hand over the lines of the drawing. He paused over the head of the sleeping king, feeling an unusual groove on the surface of the page; smoothing his fingers down, he realized it ran all the way to the bottom, and he quickly turned to the next page.

Folded and tucked into the centerfold of the book was a loose paper, sandwiched between another page of text and what looked like an illustration of a white stag. Agnarr ignored the picture, and busied himself with unfolding the paper. Flattening it out against the other pages with one hand, he felt his jaw go slack in surprise, and he had to hold tightly onto the candle to keep it from falling over again.

It was a map, with the fjord and castle of Arendelle drawn prominently in the bottom left corner, encircled on all sides by nondescript forests and mountains colored beige, brown, and dark green. From the castle was demarcated a clear path in red dashes through the mountains, to a spot at the top right corner of the page marked with a large “X.” Next to it was, Agnarr assumed, the name of the location; and though it was written in the same runes as the rest of the book within which the map had been hidden, the first two letters gave him some clue as to what – or who – could be found at the final destination.

“Trolls,” he murmured. The candle flickered, seemingly in agreement. He eyed it with wonder, and then looked up at the ceiling, seeing nothing more than total darkness… but sensing much more beyond it.

Collecting his wits, Agnarr folded the map back up and slid it into his breast pocket, and then closed the red book and slid it back onto the shelf. Standing with newfound strength from the floor, he walked back with brisk purpose towards the entrance. Once there, he lingered in the doorway to look back with a sad smile, disregarding the disarray his manic search had caused in the room.

“Thank you, mother,” he whispered, and left.

»» —— ««

The path to the stables was as shrouded in December’s eternal nightfall as every other part of the kingdom, and Agnarr was thankful for having traveled there enough times in daylight to know his way in the dark. He adjusted the sling against his chest so that it faced more towards him, and the deep, royal blue color of its cloth was well-disguised beneath his plain brown riding cloak.

His steward followed close behind with a lantern, though the light did little to illuminate their path. When they reached their destination, the older man gave a sigh of relief, holding aloft the light so that the king might better see the harness and gates guarding his prized horse, Sigurd. He eyed the king’s costume questioningly, but Agnarr would not answer the look as he untied his steed, leading it out of its stall with the trained hands of a horseman.

After carefully laying the saddle atop its broad back, he nodded to the steward, who waited expectantly, bracing himself. The king grabbed the older man’s shoulder, using the leverage to slide his foot into the stirrup and mount Sigurd.

A small, babbling sound escaped the bundle slung across Agnarr’s chest; the older man stared at it for a moment, but said nothing. The king almost sighed with relief, but elected instead to nod at the gesture of discretion in thanks.

The steward could not help but demonstrate some concern. “Are you sure about this, Your Majesty? There have been reports of brigands in the mountains as of late, and I can easily send one of the guards to go with you—”

“There are some sensitive matters I must discuss with the tradesmen there—too sensitive for company,” Agnarr interrupted in an authoritative tone, though his face reddened with embarrassment at his own vagueness. He adjusted the sling again, and continued in a more conciliatory way: “I will return before sunrise, Kai.”

The steward’s skeptical expression was obvious even in the dim lighting, but he did not press the king further on the matter, and stepped back from the horse.

The king could not bring himself to address the man’s suspicion, and whispered into Sigurd’s ear. The horse gave a whinny of comprehension, and the two set off down the path to the gates at a quick pace, disappearing into the night.

»» —— ««

Agnarr arrived at the location marked on the map – or where he thought it should be, based on his knowledge of the mountains – with a weariness etched into his brow that made him appear far older than his twenty-one years.

He had come upon a clearing in the forest resembling a Roman amphitheater, and the full moon above shone on the stage and surrounding theatron, which were covered in moss as if from long disuse. From his vantage point at the edge of the forest path leading into it, he could also make out countless stone orbs of various shapes and sizes, all draped with moss that matched their surroundings, scattered throughout the rows.

The king eyed this warily, clutching the bundle across his chest close to him as he dismounted Sigurd. He tied the horse to a tree nearby, and proceeded with caution into the center of the arena. “Hello?” he called out.

When nothing answered him, he swallowed, and made a second attempt in a more confident voice. “I am King Agnarr of Arendelle,” he announced, “and I have come seeking help.”

His statement was met with another bout of silence, and sweat beaded at his forehead as the bundle across his chest started to wriggle, making small mewling noises.

“Please,” he said, looking around at the empty valley in desperation, his eyes growing misty from the threat of tears, “I have no one else to turn to. The very fate of Arendelle is at stake.”

Finally, at this plea, Agnarr began to hear – and feel – a series of rumblings all around him, the very earth quaking beneath his feet. He looked down to plant them more firmly and keep himself from tripping, and in the background Sigurd whinnied with fright, bucking against his restraints. When the king lifted his gaze again, he was shocked to find that the same static, stone orbs he had observed before were rolling down the theatron of their own accord, until they were completely encircling him.

No sooner had he adjusted to the notion of self-propelling rocks than they began to take the forms of living beings, one by one uncurling into equally circular, stocky trolls.

At first, they seemed all alike in their terrifying newness to Agnarr: a small mop of bedraggled hair atop their heads, smocks or tunics made of moss covering their small bodies, jewelry containing precious minerals and stones strung around their necks and wrists, and impossibly large eyes that stared at him and caused him to shrink under their scrutiny. Sigurd’s incessant, fearful whinnying in the background did nothing to dispel his own fear, and he stood stock-still, unable to move.

After a minute or so, however, the king found their collection of eyes more curious than threatening, and was slowly able to differentiate the creatures from one another by the color of their necklaces, or the particular partings of their mossy hair. This calmed him, and as his breathing returned to a more normal rhythm, so too did his steed quiet in the background.

The trolls began to clear a path amongst themselves, and through it, one approached Agnarr with a slow, deliberate gait. Judging by the length of its mane, its long moss cloak, and the ostentatious, heavy decorations of green baubles strung about its chest, the king guessed that it was their elder.

“Your Majesty,” it said, bowing as much as its age would allow. Agnarr nodded in return. “I am known as Grand Pabbie among our folk. It is a pleasure to meet the son of Her Majesty, Queen Rita, after so many years.” The troll paused, registering the surprise on the king’s face at the mention of his mother. “But tell me, what brings you to the Valley of the Living Rock?”

Agnarr hesitated, but soon found himself pulling back his cloak and drawing down the top of the blue cloth to reveal his daughter’s waking features. Her bright blue eyes and soft coos were met with a chorus of “ooh”s and “aah”s from the crowd, who gathered in closer around the king to catch a glimpse of the newborn.

He was both comforted and unsettled by the attention, and unconsciously stepped back with Elsa. Pabbie, sensing this, gave him an encouraging nod to continue. “It’s all right, Your Majesty,” he reassured the king.

Agnarr swallowed. “I’ve come with a difficult – unthinkable – request,” he corrected himself, his voice shaking. “I only make it out of desperation, for the safety and life of the princess.”

At the encouraging and concerned looks of the trolls, he looked down at his child, and laid out the account of his coming to the valley in detail: how he met the queen; her true heritage, and the magic present amongst her folk; the conflict between her people and his father; the fear of magic in Arendelle; the unusual and difficult pregnancy, as well as the premature birth of the princess; and, finally, how Elsa’s powers had manifested earlier that same day.

When he finished, Pabbie asked: “May I take a look, Your Majesty?”

Before Agnarr could inquire as to what he meant, the elder troll conjured a cloud of fine, purple dust that seemed to seep out of the king’s forehead into the air above them, recalling to him the illustration he had seen in the red book. The cloud began to take shape, revealing Agnarr’s memory of seeing Elsa’s powers for the first time. The trolls tittered in astonishment at the magic, and the king watched the scene replay with the same dread and awe as he had just a few hours before.

As the spell came to a close and the cloud faded away, Pabbie looked with wonder upon the babe in the king’s arms. “Truly remarkable,” he murmured.

Agnarr shifted uncomfortably at the remark, and continued: “Yes. And Iduna and I could have borne all of these difficulties, but for one: Elsa has been betrothed to a prince from the Southern Isles since before her birth, as this was the price named by its king for his support in rebuilding Arendelle after the war.” He shook his head. “And that is not one we are willing to pay, after discovering her powers.”

The elder’s brows furrowed. “Why do you fear this king, sire?”

Agnarr frowned. “He is cruel, Grand Pabbie, prone to exploiting whatever unsavory opportunities he can to give himself the greatest advantage over others. While I know my father’s flaws full well, his mistrust of Albert was not one of them. That man…” He sucked in a breath. “He had his own brother killed to hold onto the throne, and has had the audacity to claim the death was a ‘tragic accident’ ever since.”

The trolls murmured to each other with wide eyes at this revelation, but Pabbie’s brow merely rose while he otherwise remained calm. “And you fear that he would bring the same harm to the princess, or otherwise seek to use her to bad ends,” he surmised.

Agnarr nodded. “Yes. We’re quite certain he would, which is why…” He trailed off, staring down at his child through a veil of mourning, and then looked back up at the troll with unspeakable grief. “We do not have the means to conceal her powers forever, nor would we even know how to do so.” His eyes closed, and he trembled. “It was by the queen’s request that I come here, and ask that you look after Elsa in our place. I had hoped we could ask you to remove her powers instead, but my wife forbid it.”

The trolls gave a collective gasp at this admission, with consternated whispers traveling through the crowd. Pabbie raised his hand, quieting the ruckus. “And Her Majesty was right to do so,” he affirmed. “Though, truth be told, it would’ve been impossible for me to fulfill such a request, even if you had asked it of me. There exists no such power in this world.” He paused, glancing at the child. “Does anyone else know that you’ve brought her here?”

“No,” Agnarr replied. “Her birth had not been announced, and I told the physician and servants that the princess died shortly after her birth.” He reddened. “Truthfully, I’m not sure they believed it.”

The elder was quiet for a while at this, and stared with sympathy at the child, who continued to flitter between sleep and wakefulness. “Her power will only grow with time,” he said. “There is beauty in her magic, but also great danger.” He gazed up at the king. “You did the right thing in bringing her to us, Your Majesty. We can raise her as one of our own, and teach her to use this great power for good. But…” The troll’s eyes softened. “Are you sure you want to do this? For if you do, she will never know you as her father, nor the queen as her mother—nor will you be able to see her again, lest you risk raising suspicions about her parentage.”

With tears trickling down his cheeks, Agnarr assented with a tiny nod. “Yes,” he murmured.

Pabbie bowed his head. “So be it.”

The trolls watched in silence, waiting; Agnarr, shaking, held onto his child for as long as he could, and then knelt down, his tears falling onto her cheek. He removed one riding glove to wipe it away, and then pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. Removing the scarf from around his neck, he wrapped it around the princess as he drew her up from the sling, and whispered:

“Goodbye, my sweet Elsa.”

With weak hands, he handed her to an older, matronly troll who had stepped forward from the crowd to stand beside Pabbie. As the exchange was completed, the king stifled his sobs, as did the trolls surrounding him, who watched the scene with oddly human tears streaming down their stony features.

Pabbie placed a surprisingly warm hand on his shoulder. “It will be all right, Your Majesty. Rest assured that she will live well and happily in the Valley, in harmony with nature and her magic.”

The gesture was of little comfort to Agnarr, who continued to cry. At length, Pabbie took the king’s ungloved hand in his, and with the other he removed one of the jewels from his necklace. He chanted a brief incantation under his breath that turned the mineral from green to purple, and then pressed it into Agnarr’s palm.

“Crush this gem into fine powder when you return to the castle,” he instructed, “and mix just a few grains of that into the drink or food of anyone who saw the princess alive. It will ensure that their memories of her are erased, and confirm your story about the queen’s miscarriage.”

Agnarr wiped his tears away with the heel of his gloved palm. “I will,” he nodded. “Thank you.” After a moment, he felt his lips quivering again. “Grand Pabbie…”

The troll was attentive, holding the king’s hand. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

The king swallowed uneasily. “I hate to ask this, or even think of it yet, but… if Iduna and I have another child, will it also—”

“Have powers?” Pabbie finished. Agnarr nodded, red-faced. “No, sire,” the troll assured him. “It is highly unlikely. Such magic only comes along once in a generation, if at all.”

“You’re sure of this?” Agnarr asked.

“Yes,” the troll repeated, and added in a kinder tone: “You needn’t worry.”

The king could not help but release a small sigh of relief, though it was soon replaced by a deep look of regret as he heard the princess gurgle from within the scarf with which she had been wrapped.

He stood, turning away. “I should go, now, before my presence is missed,” he murmured, and the trolls parted to clear a path for him back to Sigurd. The horse watched his return with impatience, knocking the ground beneath him with one hoof for emphasis, and Agnarr quickly untied him.

As the king slotted one foot into a spur, he was surprised to find Pabbie before him again, staring with understanding and warmth so pure that it caused him to shudder.

“Your Majesty,” the troll said softly, “I promise that we will keep her safe.”

Agnarr paused for a moment, staring down at the elder. The dried tracks of his tears were still visible on his face under the moonlight.

“Tell me, Pabbie,” he murmured, “did my mother hesitate, before you erased her memories?”

The troll’s expression lifted in surprise, and then turned wistful. “She loved you very much, sire,” he said. “Were it not for her fear of your father’s reprisal, she would have taken you with her.”

Fresh tears brimmed in Agnarr’s eyes. “Answer the question, Pabbie.”

The old troll sighed. “Of course she did. To give up a child… it is the most difficult decision in the world. But she knew you would suffer more, if she raised you in her condition.” He gazed up at the king with a knowing expression. “I know it probably never made much sense to you before, though perhaps it does now.”

Agnarr’s lip quivered, and he found he could not challenge the assertion. Without speaking another word, he swung onto Sigurd’s saddle in one swift, practiced motion, and allowed himself one last glance at his daughter.

“Tell her we loved her,” he said at last, turning away. “Tell her we’ll never forget her.”

Pabbie bowed his head, and the king threw his hood back over his head. Guiding his steed towards the path into the forest, the two set off towards Arendelle at a clip.

In the distance, the child began to cry.

[joshuas]

the playlist

♫ pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

♫ genre: college/university student!au, slice-of-life, crack (at the end, really), fluff

♫ word count: 1.4k

♫ warnings: Nil of note!

♫ prompt: #You made me a Christmas playlist but it's just Mariah Carey's "All I want for Christmas is you" and I can't tell if you're hitting on me or if it's a joke. - if anyone is aware of the owner (?) of the prompt, please let me know so that I can credit appropriately :)

♫ a/n: The first addition to my Christmas drabbles! Enjoy this lowkey chaotic fic!

♫ skz christmas drabbles: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

[16:23] 10th Dec.

Entering the cafe your friend Chan was working at, you sighed contentedly, inhaling the smoky aroma of freshly ground coffee. “I need caffeine like right now.” You slumped against the counter dramatically. “Exams were that bad, huh?” He smiled sympathetically, starting up the espresso machine. “Not bad. Tiring, but not bad. I’m honestly just erasing any memory of them as we speak.” You sighed, propping your chin on your hands. “Well, regardless, I did make you something as a gift for completing those... things that you’re currently forgetting.” “You did? I mean you didn’t have to.” Your eyes lit up though, negating any attempt at masking your excitement and curiosity. “Okay, well I should clarify. It’s nothing big. My professor set us a task to make a playlist for someone, basically for the purpose of getting us to consider the audience that we’re making music for... so I chose you. Just think of it as something to relax to after a long week of exams.” He explained, tone slightly laced with trepidation that you payed no heed to. “Well, I’m flattered that my best friend considered me to be their... muse for this assignment? In fact, I’m super curious as to what songs you put on it. Send it to me tonight and I’ll listen to it!” You grinned, grabbing your coffee and waving as you exited the shop. “Yeah, okay...”

“Don’t spill the flour everywhere!” Your friend, Felix, stressed, pushing the bowl of cookie batter closer to you.

“This whole process would be a lot more fun if we could listen to music, as well.” You rolled your eyes at his hotheadedness. “Hey, you’re the one that wanted to make gingerbread for Chan because of the whole playlist thing, which is highly romantic by the way. Also, we all know what happens when you get distracted while cooking.” He smirked, mixing through the batter. “I’m pretty sure friends can make playlists for their friends. Besides, I have you to help this precarious venture not go sideways.” You flashed him a smile, opening up the playlist and pressing shuffle play, before quickly redirecting your attention to to the cookie trays. All I Want for Christmas Is You blasted out the speakers, you laughed awkwardly as Felix raised his eyebrows pointedly at you. Odd song choice, but okay.

Half an hour later, with Mariah Carey playing on loop for almost 10 times, Felix rubbed his temples,

“Either Chan has an extremely unique sense of humour, or it’s an extreme declaration of his undying love for you.” Parcelling the gingerbread away and neatly tying a bow on top, you looked at him, “It’s weird, though. All the songs on the playlist are the same. I don’t think Chan would do that... it’s probably some network glitch or something like that.” You resolved, thoughts whirling as you cleared the kitchen. You had known Chan since childhood. Growing up, the two of you were as thick as thieves, causing enough grief to last both your parents a lifetime. It wasn’t until late high school that you’d started viewing him differently. Every little act of kindness that he did out of friendship made your heart both burst with happiness and twinge at the fact that he didn’t share the same sentiment as you. You hadn’t ever really considered the possibility of him liking you back. You never wanted to venture into that territory, afraid that you’d get your hopes up and your friendship, something you valued more than anything, would be ruined at the cost of your curiosity and feelings. You considered it as too selfish to even entertain the thought. However, some nights you couldn’t help but daydream on how it would feel to have his soft lips on yours, and to be wrapped in his warm embrace every night. Yet, whenever reality dawned on you, you shut down that part of your brain, reinforcing to yourself that the two of you were only friends. “Hey, Y/N? Sorry to interrupt whatever internal monologue you’re having but I’m going to leave now. Regarding the Chan situation, I’m not telling you to read into it too much, but considering Chan, I doubt it was just a joke.” Felix gave you a tight hug, snapping you out of your reverie. Sighing, you shut off the speaker, heading to your bed, your thoughts provoking as you tossed and turned, unable to drift off.

[18:39] 12 Dec. You had actively avoided the cafe and Chan over the last few days, fleeting texts often with one worded answers being the only form of communication between the two of you until you had sort of wrapped your head around the whole playlist situation. You knew it was bad to keep Chan in the dark like that, but you weren’t ready to see him, regardless of what his reasoning was. It wasn’t until Felix had forced you out of the house to give him the gingerbread you had baked that you had to face your fears and him. The door jingled as you stepped into the place, Chan in the same place you last saw him, humming to, wow, he really likes this song, none other than All I Want for Christmas Is You as he wiped down the counter, “Sorry, we’re closed.” He called out, not glancing up as you approached. “You must really love Mariah Carey.” You raised your eyebrows at him as he glanced up at you, startled, “Y/N? You’re alive?” “No. I’m the ghost of christmas past... Of course I am. I came bearing gifts. Particularly Christmas ones since you’re going home tomorrow.” You placed the gift bag in his arms, avoiding his gaze. “Thank you.” He said quietly, putting the bag to the side. “So, about the playlist—“ You both started. He stopped as you continued. “Was it a joke?” You blurted out, silence pursuing as Mariah Carey belted in the background. Santa won't you bring me The one I really need Won't you please bring my baby to me “This is really poor choice of music... anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re my best friend.” Your heart twinged in disappointment as your throat tightened, casting your burning eyes to the ground. He grabbed your hands, “but... it wasn’t a joke. I literally put 100 copies of All I Want for Christmas Is You in a playlist to try and articulate my feelings for you.” “Wait... so you were hitting on me?” You questioned, looking up, incredulous. “I mean. Yeah.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Cool cool cool cool cool.” You stared at each other for a while, eyebrows raised. You surged forward, pressing a quick kiss on his lips, as he gaped at you in shock. “You mean you...” “I don’t know about you, but I don’t go around kissing randoms after they declare their undying love for me, unless I like them too.” He pulled you close to him, his lips moving tenderly moving against yours. Time came to a standstill, the music distantly playing in your mind as you wrapped your arms around his neck, the two of you blissfully enjoying each other’s company. You pulled apart, breathing heavily as a smile spread on both your faces, laughing softly. “You know... your wish did come true.” You remarked. “Wish?” He tilted his head, questioning. ��All you want for Christmas is... you know...” You gestured to yourself, as he facepalmed, laughing, “I guess you’re right. All I’ve wanted for Christmas is you.”

+bonus -  high-key crack ((because Felix would never ever do this)) this is lowkey inspired by Chan’s Room: Ep. 69! Watching your silhouettes behind the tinted windows of the cafe lean in to kiss, Felix scrambled out of the car, eyes wide in horror as realisation dawned on him. “No! This can’t be happening! My plan...” He fell to his knees on the sidewalk, his upset tone echoing throughout the almost deserted street. He was in turmoil. He had been the one to orchestrate this whole thing - 100 copies of the same Mariah Carey song on a playlist, even with the concept of a playlist, he was sure you would hate it. However, what he didn’t account for... was that the two of you had feelings for each other. His heart twinged enviously at the possibility of Chan sharing all the pick-up lines customers (cough cough stays) had used on him throughout his day on you instead of Felix. He had to do something about this. This wasn’t the end for platonic Chanlix. He’d get his pick-up lines back.

➳ part two?  |  masterlist!

[mymelodyheart]

All I Want For Christmas Is You Chapter 4 ~Revelations and Snogs~

Previously in A Christmas Request ...

"Claire?"

"Hmmm?" Her voice was like a breathless whisper, and he wasn't sure if he imagined the yearning look in her eyes. It took all his self-control to keep from kissing her right there and then. Instead, he locked down all his muscles and willed himself to think of animals that start with the letter D. And all his damn brain could summon was the word dragonfly.

"May I ask ye a favour?"

"I don't kiss on the first date," she said too quickly, but her words contradicted her manner as she stared at his lips.

"That wasn't what I was gonnae ask ye."

"Oh!" Her eyes flew to his, and she blushed profusely. "Oh, well, that depends on the favour then."

He swallowed hard and leaned forward, taking her hands in his. "Will ye spend the rest of yer holiday with me?" He cleared his throat. "What I'm trying to ask of ye is, will ye stay here until the Three Kings ...until it's time for ye to go back to London?"

She blinked thrice. 

"Alright."

"Alright?" A lungful of air whooshed out of him.

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

   Alrighty Beauchamp, what have you just done?

Grabbed life by the balls? Isn't that the mantra?

Nope!

What do you mean nope?

Those are not your words. Not our words.

Yes, they are. You know, live in the moment and la-di-dah!?

Nope, definitely not.

Whose are they then?

Annalise's.

Ah, well ...

Claire mentally shrugged. 

"Sassenach?"

She snapped out of her tunnel vision, then looked at the big hands still holding hers. She was still trying to wrap her head around the idea of agreeing to spend the rest of her holiday with a total stranger. Who are you and what have you done with the ol' Beauchamp? "I'm sorry. I was thinking of Annalise. This is our holiday together, you see. I just agreed to spend the rest of my holiday here without consulting her." She shook her head and laughed despite the conflicting thoughts floating around her head. "I'm quite sure she'll be fine with it. She's the one who's always pushing me to be more spontaneous."

He squeezed her hands. "I'm flattered to be the reason for your spontaneity."

Her face heated. "I've never done this before ...just so you know."

He tried to catch her eye, and when she returned his gaze, he gave her a lop-sided smile. "Neither have I."

Oh, he's so good. Claire blew out a breath and stilled her heart. "That's comforting to know," she said, trying not to look too flustered. Knowing so little about him, she knew she should be wary, but for some reason, she felt safe. Everything about him was brand-new and familiar at the same time. It's as if there had been a melody playing in her head for her entire life, and he'd finally given it words.

"And Analise is welcome to stay too," Jamie quickly reassured her. "Ye said ye're booked at the Airbnb until Boxing day, but I dinnae think there'll be any guarantee ye'll be able to extend yer stay there with it being high season and all. But we have a family cottage that we rent out for the long term, and it was recently vacated. With all the Christmas fuss and work during the past few weeks, we never got around to letting it. Ye and Annalise are welcome to stay there for the rest of yer holiday." And then he grinned. "I'm quite certain my brother would be thrilled with the idea of yer friend staying too."

Claire laughed. "You're probably right. They seemed to have hit it off."

"Ye could say the same for us, don't ye agree?" he asked in a low voice.

She stared at him. How could he looked so calm and collected when she hadn't figured out how to articulate what she was feeling? On top of it all, it seemed he'd perfected the art of persuasion with finesse, so much so, she'd immediately jumped at his invitation to stay in Broch Mordha without a second thought, surprising herself. When it came to the dating game, she would have equated over-confidence to smugness which as a rule turned her immensely off. But there's a sincerity to Jamie's flirting that she found all too endearing and very charming.

She searched his face. Ready or not, she was curious to explore the unfamiliar emotions this beautiful man was drawing out of her. In her history of dating, no man had ever moved her to make her take the leap of faith. Deep down, something always seemed to be missing, and she'd simply put it down to her inability to know what she wanted. To say her hope of finding herself in a romantic relationship had taken a hit would be an understatement.

When her last date had ended in a blaze of abject embarrassment after she was accused of being a cock-tease, she'd decided she was done with men, at least for the foreseeable future. She had a concrete five-year plan, and getting involved with someone when her heart wasn't a hundred per cent into it, wasn't one of them. Annalise continued to hassle her to dive back in into the dating pool head first, but she'd been content to wade in the shallow end. It may have been frustrating to never take the plunge, but at least, there was a nil chance of her drowning in a sea of mistake. But now?

"Baby steps," she whispered.

"Sorry ...I didn't quite catch that."

She pulled her hands from his hold and drank the rest of her already cold Dutch coffee. When she finally placed the mug down, she looked up and smiled at him. "That rental cottage you were talking about, can I at least give you some money for it?"

He shook his head. "No way. In case ye've forgotten, I invited ye to stay."

"But you've been paying for everything all evening. Hardly seems fair."

"Spending my hard-earned quid for the pleasure of a gorgeous lass' company? Every penny spent is worth it if ye ask me." 

When he talked like that, she knew her blush wasn't going to fade anytime soon. "Annalise will disapprove, and I'm pretty sure she will want to have her say in the matter."

"And so will Willie."

"Are you always this stubborn?" she countered.

"Only if I want something badly."

They have a stare-off for a few heartbeats before Jamie tore his gaze away and cleared his throat. 

He glanced down at his watch. "So, the last horse carriage ride around the village is in about twenty minutes. We should probably get going." 

"Horse carriage ride?"

"Aye. Part of the Christmas night tour." He got up from his seat and gallantly offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

It's so old-fashioned and chivalrous, she laughed out loud. "Well, I guess we shall." As soon as she linked her hand into the crook of his elbow, he sucked in a quick breath. "Are you alright?"

He looked down at her hand on his arm and smiled. "Aye. I'm just concerned I might have trouble adhering to yer nae-kiss-on-first-date rule."

They headed out of the cafe and into the frosty air, and she was acutely aware of the low voltage electricity buzzing around them. "Would it help if I put my retainers on? I have them in my bag. I usually put them on at night."

"No, not really. I just have to remind myself of the promise I made to Annalise before we left the pub earlier."

"What promise was that?"

"I promised her I'd behave otherwise ..."

"Otherwise?"

"I have to face the consequences."

She laughed. She knew Annalise's threat so well and by heart as the same lines had been often used to warn her dates in the past. "Well, let me see ...did she say if you misbehave she's going to show you the end of the world up close. And she's going to let you see the kingdom come with your own eyes by sending you straight to the southern hemisphere and letting the ashes of death rain all over you."

He grinned at her. "Something like that. How she's going to achieve that, I have nae idea."

"Never mind how. If you keep on focusing on Annalise's threat, that should be deterrent enough."

He gave her a sceptical shrug. "If ye say so." And then he looked down at her and winked. "But then again, ye're worth tempting fate for."

..........

Claire found herself being hoisted into a festively decorated horse-drawn carriage with twinkling garlands, gold & white berries. To her amusement, even the shire horses were wearing faux antlers. As she sat down, she felt their buggy dipped low as Jamie followed and settled next to her, putting the gift bags on the floor and pulling the woollen blanket over them. As their transport rumbled and creaked into motion, he put an arm behind her, resting it the edge of their seat's backrest, leaving her no alternative but to lean against the curve of his body. His closeness and the motion of their carriage added another layer of tension to her already overworked adrenal glands.

"Comfy?" he whispered, leaning into her, his warm breath on her ear.

"Uh-huh," she managed, licking her lips that had gone suddenly dry. It was a challenging feat to ignore Jamie's presence when his sheer size encroached her space, his thigh brushing against hers and the motion of the ride, sinking her deeper under his arm.

She forced herself to focus on the sounds of the hooves and bells, and admire the trees wrapped in lights, wreaths adorning almost every window, and Santas or nutcrackers standing guard outside front doors. For once, Jamie didn't speak, and she allowed herself to relax, revelling the clean, crisp air of the Highlands. Although Broch Mordha was nothing like London, quieter and had a slower pace of life, the atmosphere in the village was electric. It was almost magical, more natural and everything seemed to make more sense, instead of the rat race that occurred daily and nightly in the big city.

Every year, at around Christmas time, she came back to the Highlands in search of some peace, and every time she returned to London, she always felt like a brand new person, invigorated, well-rested and ready to tackle the New Year. But there was something different about her visit in Broch Mordha compared to the other places she'd been to in the Highlands, and she had a feeling deep in her guts, she'd have trouble leaving this place once her holiday was over. 

"Ye dinnae look tired at all, Sassenach. Ye're used to staying up late?"

She glanced up at Jamie and smiled. "I sleep very little. I don't know, maybe I have insomnia."

"Really? Perhaps it's just a consequence of living in the city. I mean it's loud there, and I presume ye live in a flat where ye can hear the comings and goings of yer neighbours."

She sighed. "Yes, there's that. The flat Annalise and I live in is not really the most tranquil setting. It doesn't help that I am an overthinker."

"What do ye think mostly about when ye cannae sleep?"

"Mostly about work," she shrugged, glancing at the lights overhead that were hung above the streets. "Don't get me wrong. I'm happy, and I'm grateful for the good life I have. It's just that sometimes I think about the day when I would stop searching for ..."

Jamie waited for her to finish her sentence, but she couldn't find the words. "For what?" he finally asked, his hand squeezing her shoulder, urging her on.

"More," she replied candidly, surprising herself with the unguarded utterance that came from her very soul, ragged with honesty and desire for something she didn't have a name for. Yet. Suddenly, the empty place inside her reared up, seeking company. "How about you? What do you think most of at night?" She paused, trying to tamp down the sudden curiosity that flared up, but it was out before she could stop herself. "A certain lass perchance?"

To her astonishment, she felt him tensed beside her, and after a few seconds, he let out a sigh. "I have nightmares," he confided.

Her head jerked up, and she twisted in her seat to look into his eyes. He was probably waiting for her to ask a torrent of questions, but she remained silent, allowing him to set the pace of their conversation. She nodded her head to continue.

"I used to be with the SAS. It's a special force unit for the British army. The unit I was in was responsible for a number of roles including covert reconnaissance, counter-terrorism, direct action, and hostage rescue. My best friend, Simon MacKimmie, was captured while spying behind the enemies' lines. He was a valuable informant for both sides, and my team were under direct orders to get him out of there alive and as swiftly as possible." She watched as his throat worked as if he saw the scene replaying in his mind. "We found him quickly enough and thought we were out of the woods. But the enemy fire broke out just as we were about to board the helicopter. Simon and I were hit, but my wound was superficial, whereas my friend's injury was fatal. I promised him everything would be alright and would make sure he stayed alive for his family. Before he slipped away, he made me promise to take care of his wife, Laoghaire, if he didn't make it. She was pregnant at the time. I didn't hesitate and made a vow to keep that promise."

"Oh, Jamie ..."

He pressed his lips into a determined line. "Months later, I was discharged from the army after I was diagnosed with PTSD. I resigned myself to a quiet life as the flashbacks from the horrors of the war and friend's death worsened. Laoghaire and I became close, as we talked a lot about Simon and I helped her with the things she needed. That was when I found my purpose in life again, and even though I wasn't in love with her, I loved her like I loved Simon so I asked her to marry me so that I could take care of their child. It was a sacrifice, aye, but it was a small price to pay, considering I get to live, and my mate will never get to see his unborn child. So we planned to marry after the child was born. So while we were waiting for the big day, I bought a house for us, and my brother helped me restore it."

"But Laoghaire didnae want to live here. She wanted us to move to Liverpool because she couldnae stand the quiet and the remoteness even though she was born and bred here. I told her we would talk about it after the baby was born. But I was worried that living in the city would make my PTSD worse. Meanwhile, rumours were going around that Laoghaire has been seeing another man when Simon was still alive and that she would often disappear to Liverpool weeks at a time. I ignored it as I didnae care for idle gossips and dismissed it as such. Ye see, she lived and worked in Liverpool before she married Simon; hence, I thought, that was where the rumours had stemmed from. She's a very ambitious lass and has this dream of making it big one day. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I later found out from a reliable source that not only had she cheated on Simon, but she cheated on me while were engaged. I began to wonder if the child she was carrying was even Simon's. While I was building her a house and funding her trips to Liverpool, she was seeing the same man she'd been meeting up with when Simon was still alive. When I confronted her, she admitted to it. So the wedding was cancelled, and she went to Liverpool to give birth to her child and to be with the other man ." 

He shook his head at the memory. "She reminded me of someone I used to pursue. She'd rather be with a man wearing a five grand suit than be with a labourer like me. I guess it's the lure of the city. Sometimes I feel like I failed Simon and his family. I made him all sorts of promises that I couldnae keep and the memory of the glimmer of hope he had in his eyes turning to death, keep recurring in my dreams."

Claire knew the last things Jamie needed were apologies and pities. He seemed like a proud man who didn't shy away from responsibilities and was unapologetically himself. "I guess we both have demons that keep us up at night," she finally said.

Jamie shrugged and waved his hand. "Dinnae fash. I didnae take ye out so ye could watch me wallow. I've done enough of that myself."

She took a deep breath. "I'm not going to pretend I wholly understand everything you've been through, but one thing I know is that you being part of the SAS means you were trained with the elite. You were drilled to save lives, and with that comes, precision and no room for error. So when something goes wrong, and someone dies during your watch, it becomes your fault."

He looked at her as furrows deepened on his brows.

She placed a hand over his. "You tried to absolve your guilt of not being able to save your mate's life by taking care of Laoghaire, who was so undeserving of your kindness and generosity. God or a higher power or the universe, or whatever you wish to call it, is trying to show you something important. You don't get to choose, Jamie. At the end of the day, you can only do your best, but you can't save everyone. No one can. Right now you're learning to live with that, and all you can do now is make sure you get to the other side. You can't take responsibility for everyone's action but yours."

Something lit up in Jamie's eyes. Emboldened by the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, she grinned at him. "No wonder you won at the caber toss and your team trashed the opponents at shinty today. You have so much pent up emotions dying to come out."

Jamie suddenly laughed out loud and pulled her against him. "I think I need to fire my therapist and hire ye, Sassenach. All this time, we'd circled around the realisation, always walking on eggshells. But ye ...ye just gave it to me straight. I think I'll need ye to stay longer past three kings."

She poked him on the ribs. "Be careful what you wish for!"

..........

A couple of hours and a glass of mulled cider each later, they walked in silence as Jamie guided her down the path that led to the bed and breakfast cottage. As it turned out, he lived three minutes walk away from where she and Annalise were staying.

After spending a whole night out with him, her body was still buzzing with so much energy. She'd never had such a powerful reaction to a man before. Nor enjoyed the company of one as much as she did tonight. She felt like she could uproot all the trees that stood on her path.

"I had a really grand time," he said.

"Me too. Thank you for a wonderful evening."

"And thank ye for the company."

As they neared bed and breakfast cottage, she realised they were exchanging lame small talk, but there's nothing lame about what's passing between them. Either way, she couldn't care less as she'd never laughed so hard in her life.

When they finally reached the small gate, she stopped and turned around to face him. "Well, here we are," she smiled, trying to conceal her reluctance to go.

He hooked the giftbags onto the wooden gate and nodded tensely, the tightness in his jaw quite evident. "Aye. Here we are at Mrs Fitz's place. I ken the ol' dear. She used to feed me and my brother jam piece and milk when we were bairns." He took a step forward and cleared his throat. "I ...um ...tonight was really special." 

"I think so too. Thank you again for everything."

He ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. "I'm no' tired yet, so I'm just going to take a walk some more until I'm ready for bed," he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

"Yes, you do that. Fresh air is good for you. And I ...ah ... I'll talk to Annalise about extending our stay here. Ah well ... that's if she's still awake." She rolled her eyes and let out a nervous laugh. "Or if she's home. So ... I'll see you around?"

"Aye, I'm just down the road if ye need anything."

"Yes. Got it. Down the road. A hop, skip and jump away."

He stared for a few heartbeats, then ran his hand behind his neck and gave her a crooked smile. "I meant it, Sassenach. If ye cannae sleep, ye can drop by anytime. I'm a light sleeper. Apart from personalised packaged-tours, I also specialise in making a mean toddy to help ye sleep. And a wicked mushroom omelette if its breakfast ye want. Oh, aye, I'm good at foot massage as well."

She stifled a giggle threatening to burst as a ball of warmth bloomed in her belly. "I have no doubt you're good at those things. I'll bear what you said in mind if I need anything or if I have trouble sleeping. And if I have a sudden urge for a foot massage, I'll pop by."

He shook his head. "Ye're not just saying that to spare my feelings are ye?"

"No. Of course not. I enjoy your company. So ..." Claire took a deep breath. "...this is it. Good night, Jamie. And thank you again for everything." Oh, dear God, I keep saying thank you! She stood on her tiptoes to give him a peck on his cheek just as he offered his hand. Their sudden awkward movement made her lose her balance, bumping her nose on his jaw. They both took a step back and laughed. This time she held out her hand, and he shook it.

They continued to stand there and shake hands, neither of them letting go, their smile slowly ebbing away as they stared at each other.

Jamie was the first to speak. "Right, this is the part where I watch ye walk away."

"Yes. I'll go now. It's getting late." She smiled as she took a tentative step away from him, but he didn't let go of her hand.

Her bottom hit the wooden post behind her as Jamie took another step forward. His height and breadth blocked out the street light, and in the shadows, his expression looked almost pained. She'd had men looked at her with desire before, but nothing like the way Jamie was doing right now. The way his jaw and muscles tensed and his breathing shallowed, she knew it was taking him a lot of effort to hold himself back. Her eyes travelled down to his throat and watched his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

"Sassenach." His voice cut through the haze, and her eyes flew to his as he leaned down and cupped her face. "Maybe ye could stay for just a wee while more."

Her heart began to thump wildly against her ribs as the air between them charged. "I really should get going," she whispered, the blood roaring through her ears almost deafening. She willed herself to move, but she remained fixed on the spot.

"Or perhaps ye can just stand here for a few minutes more and let me do this."

She stopped breathing and time stood still as he softly brushed his lips across hers. Then he pulled away for a brief second waiting for her to object, and when she didn't, he kissed her again.

Her brain seized, and her eyes automatically closed. She'd never felt lips so soft nor been kissed with such gentleness. She once read an Oscar Wilde quote, and it said, "A kiss may ruin a human life." It had puzzled her then because up until now, she'd always thought, although some kisses were sweet it was nothing more than two people putting their faces together and exchanging spit. But Jamie's kiss? She knew it had ruined her for any future kisses. This was the type of kiss she never even knew existed. It was the kind of kiss that inspired stars to climb into the sky and light up the world.

She waited with bated breaths for more, but nothing happened.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. "I've wanted to kiss ye from the moment I laid my eyes on ye," he whispered and grazed her lips once more. "Ye've nae idea how beautiful ye are."

Oh, sweet Jesus! He'd barely touched her. It was merely a light brushing of their lips and the slightest sensation of his breath on her face. But it was enough to cause the static crackling between them to be ignited, and she was left wanting more.

Before she could reassemble her thoughts and make sense of her emotions, he stepped away from her and tunnelled his fingers through his hair. "May I please have yer phone, Sassenach?"

"Oh! Wot for?"

He smiled at her. "I'm giving ye my number." 

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans and handed her phone over. She watched him dial his own number on her screen, and after a few seconds later, his own phone rang. 

"There, now I have yers too." He pushed her phone into her back pocket and blew out a breath. "I'll see ye tomorrow?" 

"You want to see me again?" she teased, smiling.

"I dinnae even want to leave ye tonight."

She dropped her head down to hide the heat creeping up her face. "I'll see what's Annalise is up to and we'll take it from there. I'll either call you or send a message."

He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her face up. "Ye're not mad I kissed ye? I havenae forgotten yer rules about first dates."

Claire picked up the gift bags, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. And then she smiled. "I'm starting to believe the rules don't apply to you. Good night, Jamie." And with that, she turned around and walked towards the cottage without looking back, knowing full well Jamie was still stood there waiting for her until she'd safely made it to the house.

Once inside, she allowed herself to slide down to the floor and relived the memory of their first kiss. And she sat there for a very long time.

Dear Readers,

Here's a little story about this chapter. I got stuck at the beginning of writing this one. So what did I do? I started writing from the middle, then the conclusion and finished the opening in the end. It's common to get stuck in writing, so I thought I'd share this wee tip with you. So just in case, the latest update lost some of its fluidity, you now know the reason why. 😀

Anyway, thank you for reading and your feedback from the previous chapter. It's something I truly appreciate. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I look forward to reading your thoughts. Meanwhile, sending you all best wishes and hope you're taking care of yourselves and your health. x