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bump1nthen1ght · 3 years

Text

I’m Still Hurting (Orc x Reader) Part 2

Pairings: Fem!Reader/Male!Orc

Genre: Urban Fantasy, Angst

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2107 words

Summary: You and your boyfriend establish a new normal

A/N: At long last, the highly requested part two! I had a bit of struggle coming up with a proper followup to the first part (which was part of why I left it with an open-ended ending in the first place lol). Little less angst this time, I felt these two deserved a little sweetness after the last chapter. Hope y'all enjoy!

Part 1

The first thing that caught your eye when you walked by the music store was the Grand Piano. It was gorgeous: Polished mahogany, a nice velvet seat, and keys that looked like they had never seen the sticky fingers of a curious 8 year old.

“Wow, is that new?”

You nod, admiring the old-fashioned air of the instrument. You knew jack shit about music, but even you could tell that this piano was an antique, one probably worth a good chunk of change.

“Must be. I’ve never seen it before and this place is on my way to work.”

Waruck hmms, pressing his hands up against the glass. His eyes sparkle when he sees the “Free to Play” sign right next to the piano. It probably reminds him of his Grandpa’s, the one he played when you guys visited his family for Christmas.

That was a long time ago.

“Want to go in?”

Waruck pulls away from the glass, eyebrows raised. He rubs the back of his neck and steps a couple feet back, trying to curb his enthusiasm.

“Uh, we don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind. It's been a while-” You pause, the slight-anxiety in the air making every casual word difficult, “It’s been a while since I’ve heard you play.”

Waruck smiles, small and polite, and opens the door of the shop for you. Before, he might have done a little bow and said “Ladies First” in a British accent.

But that was before, and this is now. Now, every comment is walking on eggshells, whispered tentatively and under your breath. Testing the waters for how comfortable you two could get around each other.

Still, it was exponential growth from two months ago.

--------

After your meeting at the coffee shop, you had asked Waruck for a month; A month of privacy, for you to collect your thoughts and feelings, to be alone for a bit. He had agreed immediately, shuffling out of the cafe with a hunched back and a melancholy air, but he had kept his promise. You took the time to focus on other things, shifting your relationship to the back of your mind and enjoying the day-to-day.

But a part of you felt a little bad, like maybe you were stringing Waruck along for an inevitable breakup. Getting his hopes up for an extra tortuous punishment that left a sour taste in your mouth. So on one brave Saturday night, you sent him a meme you saw on Instagram, one that reminded you of him.

That second month saw the two of you texting more and more frequently, sending little jokes, asking how your day was, so and so. Each week rebuilt a little bit more of that familiarity, that comfortableness. It finally got to the point where Waruck asked if you were free one weekend. He just wanted to get some lunch and stroll around the neighborhood for a bit. For the first time in a while, that idea didn’t seem too bad.

--------

The air is considerably cooler inside the store, a tiny bell ringing as a rush of air-conditioned air hits both of you. Waruck makes a beeline for the piano, his footsteps short and quick. You feel a smile crawl on your face; He always acted like an excited kid when it came to music.

Waruck plops down in the center of the stool, fingers lightly brushing over the keys in awe. You walk up the piano’s side, laying your hand on the wood and admiring the lack of smudge marks on the polished wood. Waruck tests out a G note and although the sound is short, it’s extremely pleasant. Waruck’s smile grows even larger.

“When I was a young boy…”

You mutter under your breath. Waruck chuckles, quickly continuing onto a G flat.

“My father took me into the city,” Waruck hums

“To see a marching band.” The two of you sing together, laughing a little bit too loudly and gaining a sharp look from the tired sales clerk. Waruck waves a little apology, but that playful grin stays on his face.

“Wow, that brings back some repressed Hot Topic memories.”

“Seriously. I can almost feel the book my band teacher used to thwack me with. Me and my buddies would sneak into the choir room and play that all the time.” Waruck’s fingers dance over a couple more notes, aimless.

You’ve always liked watching Waruck play. His fingers were so dextrous and controlled, not to mention long and nicely articulated. He’d probably make good money from a hand-model side-gig.

“Want to take a seat?”

You shift your focus away from Waruck’s hands. He’s made space on the bench and pats the open space next to him.

“Yeah, sure.” You say, despite the fast pace your heart is now beating.

You keep a solid two inches of distance between your bodies, keeping your thighs together as to not brush your legs with his. It felt like a middle school dance, keeping a bible length away from your partner to avoid the disapproving stare of the chaperones.

Waruck nods, absentmindedly running his fingers up the scale. “Any requests?”

Immediately, all non-love songs depart from your brain. One of your favorite pieces sits on the tip of your tongue and your brain refuses to let it go. You shake your head.

“Nope. It’s all yours, music man.”

Waruck chuckles, a little louder and a lot more comfortable, as he sits deeper in his seat.

“Prepare,” Waruck cracks his knuckles, “to be amazed.”

You bite back a laugh. He’s still such a dork.

He starts to play, his hands easily finding the right keys, moving like a well-oiled machine. Your heart nearly skips a beat before it melts into a puddle of sentiment.

It’s your favorite.

The song brings back memories of your childhood, a rainy day in, and delicious food. It’s like chicken soup for the soul and you can feel any of the left over tension leave your body.

Waruck’s eyebrows furrow with concentration, but he has a large smile on his face, his large tusks peeking out from his lips. His arm stretches across the piano as the song hits its most fast-paced part. His biceps and shoulders lean more into your space, but the feeling isn’t unwelcome. It feels natural, as if his presence and yours is part of the piece itself.

Waruck’s thigh brushes against yours, but his pace doesn’t falter and neither does yours. You stay enraptured, watching how easily he slips into the music. You barely even notice how you have begun to lean closer to his side; Your mind says it’s to give his arms plenty of space to play, but it’s still far more comfortable than you are willing to admit.

How easy it feels, in the moment, to fall back into routine.

The song begins slowing to a stop, only a couple seconds left, when the sounds of the music shop return to you. A giggle from not too far rings discordant with Waruck’s piano.

Three girls stand not too far from you, watching with fascination as Waruck plays.

“Wow, he is so good!” One whispers to her friends.

There is nothing even remotely lascivious in their eyes or in their words, but a knife still twists in your gut. Your throat constricts as flashes of your bedroom, of unanswered texts, and a picture of a bar corner booth send needles down your spine and into your heart.

Is this wrong? Is this giddy feeling you have only distracting you from reality? Is it like this song, Waruck’s playing, beautiful but temporary?

“Ugh, I want what they have.”

“I know, right? How romantic.”

They’re wrong, you’re wrong, this is wrong; It’s fake, fake, fa-

Your eyes dart to and fro, trying to desperately avoid Waruck’s quickly overwhelming body heat and your audience, before it catches on the distorted shape of your reflection in the window.

The glass is old, slightly drooping, even the golden lettering of the music shop’s name looks dusty and sun-bleached.

But what is unmistakable is you and Waruck. Waruck, playing piano, and looking at you. Looking at you with the love in his eyes you thought had died, or had never been there at all. The group of girls stands in the background, small and out of focus.

And Waruck is staring at you.

“Are you okay?” Waruck asks, his warm hand on your shoulder.

You whip your neck around, almost getting whiplash.

You’re here, in the music store, with your boyfriend. He looks at you, brow slightly puzzled from your wild eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I,” You suck in a deep breath, “Sorry, I guess I got lost in my own head. That song gets me kind of nostalgic.”

Waruck pats your shoulder and you miss it’s heat when he pulls it back to his side. He smiles, but you can tell he is still slightly worried.

“No problem, I get it.”

You notice now how much closer Waruck is to you. His chest has shifted towards yours, the fabric of his shirt sleeve pressing against the skin of your bicep. Waruck’s knee absentmindedly knocks into yours, but the contact doesn’t sting or jolt you. Not even the continuing silence makes the situation awkward.

It’s nice.

“Do you want to check out the record aisle? They might actually have that piece on vinyl.”

Waruck gestures with his thumb to the piles of CD’s and records not too far from you two. You nod

“Yeah, that sounds great.”

--------

The two of you spend about an hour in the music store, pointing out hilarious cover art and admiring some vintage finds. Waruck even gets you to chuckle a couple of times, slowly bringing out his old cheesy puns.

Waruck’s missed this.

You two walk out of the music store at the tail end of one of Waruck’s jokes, you playfully punching his shoulder.

The two of you wander, in the opposite direction of your cars, for a little while. But Waruck hasn’t lost track of time; No, he’s soaking in every moment he can, every smile and lingering look you give him. Every reminder that this is real.

He spent a week agonizing over what he did. Stuck in silence as he gave you your space. His friends (His real friends, not those assholes from the bar) had offered to come by and keep him company, but he turned it down.

When Waruck got back into routine, it was slow-rolling. It was difficult to fight the instinct to check his phone for a good-morning text, or check your Instagram for any ‘post-breakup’ partying.

No, he had already broken your trust once. The least he could do was give you some time. Spend some hour not wallowing in self-pity, but actively make a change.

Waruck began to accept those invites to a chill hang out, playing some poker and sipping on beer with the gang. He played his keyboard when the thoughts got too loud and went jogging when the music wasn’t loud enough. He called his mom a couple of times, even sent his sister a couple of texts to catch up. They hadn’t spoken outside of holidays for almost three years.

Maybe he was the one that needed time.

God, why did you have to be so smart?

“Oh shit, how long have we been walking?” You mutter, checking your watch for the time. Waruck turns around you, already knowing the answer was 27 minutes, exactly. The both of you were nearing the edge of the neighborhood, cafes and shops turning into residential suburbs. “Dang, time really flies, huh?”

Waruck smiles.

“With you? It always does.”

You give him a half smile, patting his bicep. “Oh my god, you’re such a cheeseball.”

Waruck winks and shoots you some finger guns.

“You know it babe.”

You giggle, checking your watch once more, face turning just a little bit.

“I should probably head back, I’m getting dinner with some friends tonight.”

A small part of Waruck yearns for more time, but he lets it go.

Space, this was about establishing space.

“I had a lot of fun today, Waruck.” You step a little closer, Waruck’s heart skips a beat.

“Me too.” He whispers, his breath catching as your fingers brush against his.

It’s a simple gesture, one you’ve down a million times. But when your palm slips into his, your finger’s interlocking, it’s like fireworks have gone off.

“Same time, next week?”

Waruck nods, not trusting himself to speak without a voice crack.

That’s all he needed, all you wanted; The promise of the future.

“Yes, I would love that.”

#my writing #orc x reader #reader insert #female reader insert #orc/human #monster/human #monster x reader #monster/reader #angst #orc

339 notes · View notes

trashbinbackyard · 3 years

Note

jack/mirad & kai/helvi

I woke up at 8 and went like eeeh i can sleep another half an hour and them boom, 1pm

1. Who's the one who's reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Mirad has grown past his most reckless tendencies, Jack however hasn't, but he's more at danger to himself than to others

Kai is very careful when he's out hunting and he's never alone. Helvi however has a habit of going into the woods alone

2. Who's the one to send the other "I love my gf/bf" memes

I don't feel like either?

If they had phones it'd be Helvi

4. Which one spoils the other more and do they ever get competitive to show the other more love

Mirad spoils Jack, lets be real, it doesn't turn into a competition bc it's in moderation, and mostly Mirad treating Jack to some of his skincare products

Kai miiiiight spoil Helvi juuuuust a bit, he doesn't mind getting up way earlier to fix her breakfast and help her tie her hair and acquiring many fur blankets

5. How many years did it take to get married or was it just not for them

A few years for sure, when they both were sure about it. Probably talked about it too before Mirad proposed

Few years, if wasn't for Kai's role in the village they would've gotten married later, as neither really saw marriage as That important and just something they one day would like to do.

6. What was their wedding like

Small, just closest family and couple friends, nothing extravagant for the middle aged men

Whole day event basically with everyone from the village and surrounding area invited (against Kai's best wishes), Weddings, and especially high profile weddings like that are few and far between and they're quite the event. Small ceremony but then a huge feast with dancing singing and general revelry

7. Is their friends/family supportive

Ellen is very happy for them both, Mirad's parents were wary but approve later on, Marda is still sus about Jack

Very much so, Kory pretty much pushed them to get married already, Kat when she finds out is very happy for them both. Helvi's parents are so proud and treat Kai like close family

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Mirad talks to Jack gently, checks if he hasn't hurt himself, bring him a snack and drink. When Mirad's distressed Jack will ask if he can do anything and keep him company if he lets him

If Kai's in distress he tends to shut down and all Helvi can really do is keep him company and hold him. If Helvi's upset Kai will call a timeout and just go somewhere with her where she can calm down and talk things through

9. Which one dissociates

Jack mostly

10. Which one stares at the other's booty like "damn" and how does the other react when catching them

Both. Mirad would be more cheeky (hehe) in his reaction while Jack is like "my booty?? :0"

Helvi. Kai blushes

11. When they live together what kinda place do they live in? What does their home look like?

Both had their separate places, where Mirad's was very neat and organized and Jack's was a whole mess. Jack would still keep his place as a workshop while he pretty much now lives with Mirad, where he learns to respect the house rules

They share a two-story chief's house with Kory and a garm, they have the whole lower level to themselves pretty much, and it's quite big, it's very cozy and bit cabin'y even if it's larger

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Jack's a sad drunk, first thing Mirad knew about him tbh. Mirad doesn't drink if I remember correct

Neither of them want to get Drunk drunk, just tipsy. Kai loosens up and gets chattier. Helvi gets giggly and cuddly

14. Which one rolls over in the morning to wake up the other one just to give kiss them

Beware the morning breath. Mirad wakes up before Jack

Kai doesn't wake Helvi up when he leaves the bed to go prepare breakfast, but when that's done he will kiss her goodmorning

16. Does one have an interest the other think is weird but wants to listen to it regardless

Jack likes welding for fun too, he's made some little "art" pieces for Mirad with textures he knows he likes, and Mirad appreciates it. Mirad's big into working out and Jack will be out of breath in two minutes if he joins but it's a pleasant experience

Helvi loves making potions and instruments and while Kai knows little about either he's up for helping her if she asks, she also sings. I know this seems kinda random bc I just know thought of it, but Kai's into drawing with charcoals, it would be fitting for his "quiet kid with not many friends" character (it hits a little too close home lmao)

17. Which one uses cropped hentai as reaction images

That's very much up Jack's alley

If they had phones, Helvi

18. Does one of them kinkshame the other

Not kinkshame, more like kink-concern on Mirad's part like "Jack, honey, WHY do you wanna be choked that hard"

Neither of them have really out there kinks, though Helvi would be up to do it in the woods. Just have to be extra careful they're far enough from any civilization

19. Is one of them self conscious about their body? If so how does the other comfort them

Jack, he's pudgy and wrinkly. Mirad doesn't mind it one bit and calling Jack a sexy beast on the regular makes Jack happy and less ashamed of his body

Helvi used to, before trans-your-gender spell hit, (and bc she basically got to decide what her body would look like of course she has no regrets) Kai is very body-neutral about himself, yeah that's a body, nothing special but ain't nothing wrong with it either

21. What is their song? Like the song that gives them overwhelming feelings?

Well I have listed Silent storm for them once and you know what, I stand by it

From Heilung Traust and Krigsgaldr (first half of it anyway), both were big inspirations for Helvi's character in general and Maria Franz is her voiceclaim too lol (also the guy on krigsgaldr second verse for Kai's voiceclaim (before 4.40 mark))

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Jack is a recovering addict, also depressed, and alcoholic (recovering when they get together). Mirad is also an ex-addict and while he's much further into his recovery he's not immune to the shitty stuff that still might happen, they're each other's peer support

Helvi used to have bad dysphoria

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Head, forehead for Jack (and lips of course) he's not that big into getting kisses on his body. Mirad is sensitive everwhere but IIRC neck and sides are big

Helvi's wrists and neck just below her ears. Kai's throat and forehead

30. Do they dance together

Mirad poledances, Jack enjoys the view

At their wedding sure, both lil tipsy and letting loose, both lost their flower crowns that evening

31. Do they sing together

More like hum if they feel like it

Helvi's the one signing, Kai might join in on a verse or two

34. Are they a reckless couple or safe

Pretty safe with the occasional reckless on Jack's part

Safe

35. What be their kinks and do they try each other's kinks

Love and Care, and choking

They're pretty vanilla

37. Do they get into fights often? If so what do they fight over and how do they make up?

Arguments sure about Jack's self-destructive behaviors sometimes but the rule is never go to sleep angry so they both reflect on it with compassion

Not really, at least before The Incident, apologize and kiss and make up

38. Which one's top, bottom, verse

Mirad's a top, Jack is a pillow princess vers

Kai's top, Helvi's bottom

39. What kinda sex they be having (gentle rough whatever)

Whatever they're in the mood for, some tender lovin'? Sure! Get hot and heavy? With moderation. Break into laughter in the middle of it? Silly is also a mood!

It starts off as hot and heavy but calms down to more gentle

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

Jack would just hit them with the "don't be meeeaaan 🥺🥺" Mirad I feel like would go the verbal route as well but more stern

It's common knowledge to Not insult the village shaman (the one who has illness remedies and the one who blesses you before you travel), and you DONT insult the the chief's kid/chief. They're both capable of defending themselves but Kai will step in if he happens to hear

44. Do they want kids

Nah, who needs kids when you got nieces

Yeah, and I've finally made up my mind, they're gonna adopt a bunch (and bc you dropped out of the campaign I can tell you how: a village not that near but not that far gets attacked by a power hungry druid and leaves bunch of kids without parents and the party will escort them back to Kai's village, before they go after the druid)

#whoowhee there was a LOT #the power hungry druid is part of visenya's backstory and I was planning on the party taking a route that crosses Ziva's fam's village and #they see it in ruins (also bc of the power hungry druid)#idk how it's gonna play out yet but thats the plan #armed asshats #space shitstorm #im sure you have made a post with songs for mirad and jack and only one I remember is moves like jagger #jack is pretty dysfunctional at the beginning but with love and support from mirad and ellen and therapy he will get better

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sugachaes · 3 years

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Blue Hour

A/N: Soooo this is like... the first fanfic I’ve ever written lol, I don’t usually write stuff like this, but it was fun! I should have more coming at some point in the future, but for now, here’s what I’ve got! My other socials are in my bio if you wanna see more of my work!

This fic has been cross posted to AO3 here.

Word count: 10k+

Content: Mutual pining, some light smut?, childhood friends to lovers, some angst, Jimin is either the best or worst life coach, no one is sure which, Hoseok is always drunk but I think he’s neat, Jungkook and Taehyung share one brain cell but it’s shaped like a heart, Shownu best boy

Jungkook is running late.

He’s rushing to exit his dorm building, not even waiting for the elevator to make it to his floor, rushing down the stairs in hopes that it’ll take less time. In his haste, he still manages to have time to regret choosing the top floor of the four story building.

Upon exiting the building, Jungkook takes off in the direction of his lecture, thanking his lucky stars it isn’t too far away from where he lives. He weaves his way through other students, trying to cause as little damage while also moving as fast as he can.

At last, he’s made it to the right building, bursting through the first door he sees and hoping he’s in the right place.

When he enters, the class has gone quiet, all eyes turned in the direction of the disturbance. The professor, after giving him a quick once over, decides to let the interruption slide and continue her presentation.

Jungkook makes his way through the lecture hall, hoping his seat hasn’t been taken by someone who was actually on time for the class. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that no one has taken his beloved spot from him, and plants himself there before moving to pull out his materials.

“Dude, what happened to you? I don’t think you’ve ever been late for anything.”

Jungkook looks up and meets the eyes of his best friend, Taehyung. The two of them go way back, all the way back to middle school when Jungkook had moved from his small town to the big city. After watching the boy desperately try to find a place in a school that was much larger than what he was used to, his constant confusion attracting stares from already established students, Taehyung decided he would help this clueless stranger for as long as he could.

“I must’ve forgotten to set my alarm last night,” Jungkook says, finally pulling out the book he was looking for.

“That’s not like you. Maybe it was a glitch?”

“Maybe.”

Taehyung turns his head to face the front of the room, having gotten the answers to all his questions. Jungkook follows suit, deciding he should at least pay attention to what was left of the class and hope he could piece the rest of it together on his own.

Though, his eyes can’t help but drift over occasionally, stealing glances at the boy next to him.

He’s not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, between the late nights watching movies together, Jungkook had fallen for Taehyung. Naturally, he pushed those feelings down, afraid that they may make him act selfishly, or worse, ruin their friendship. As much as he would like for things to turn out like they do in fanfiction, where it turns out the two of them have been pining after each other the whole time, he knows better.

So instead, he hides his feelings away, hoping that one day he’ll be able to go back to seeing Taehyung as nothing more than a friend. Though, it’s becoming harder to keep his emotions at bay lately. He finds himself relishing in Taehyung’s touch, whether he means to or not. Hugs when something goes good or bad for one of them, touches that last just a bit longer than they would for others, Jungkook takes advantage of each of those little moments.

Even though it causes him to fall deeper each time.

Once the lecture ends, the students begin filing out, likely off to more stress-inducing classes. As Taehyung and Jungkook are leaving the building, Taehyung decides this is the perfect opportunity to ask his friend a very important question.

“Hey, Kook?” Jungkook turns to offer his full attention to his friend. “So there’s this party-”

“Absolutely not.” Taehyung lets out a groan.

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“Tae, you know how I feel about parties.”

“I do! But this one will be different.”

“Last time you said that I ended up carrying you home.” Taehyung scratches the back of his head, recalling the incident himself.

“Ah, I’m a different person now!” Jungkook rolls his eyes. “Besides that was like… a year ago?”

“Four months.”

“It’s in the past!”

“Barely.”

“Please just come this one time? You only have to stay for an hour.” Jungkook stares at him. “Do it for me?”

A sigh leaves Jungkook’s lips.

“Only for an hour.”

Jungkook doesn’t even bother putting too much effort into what he’s wearing, throwing on jeans and a T-shirt and deciding it’s presentable enough.

“Good enough to get me bye for an hour,” Jungkook says, looking at himself in the mirror briefly.

As if on cue, Jungkook hears a knock at the door. He exits his room and goes to open the door, revealing a similarly dressed Taehyung. The only real difference lies in the leather jacket Taehyung has thrown over his shoulders.

“You don’t think you’re a bit underdressed?” Taehyung asks, taking in Jungkook’s work, or lack thereof.

“What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

“Nothing! Nothing,” Taehyung reassures him. “You look fine. Let’s go.”

The two of them head out, deciding to walk to the party given that it’s relatively close to their campus. As they grow closer to their destination, they can already hear the faint sound of music in the distance. They follow the sound until they arrive at the source of the music.

The house, no, the estate, that the party is taking place in is practically vibrating on its foundation as the bass flows through it and out into the air. There’s a few people loitering outside, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol wafting through the air. Someone is already passed out on the lawn. They likely won’t remember anything once they wake up. Taehyung takes a big inhale.

“I love the smell of regret in the evening.” He turns around to look at Jungkook, who already looks visibly sick as he takes in his surroundings. “Hey, are you good?” Jungkook appears to shake himself out of whatever stupor he’s in.

“Yeah, yeah I’m alright,” he says, moreso trying to convince himself than he is trying to convince Taehyung. “Just a little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

“Will you be alright?”

“I think so. I’ll just find a corner to hide away in.” Though he knows it’s just because he’s a good friend, Jungkook’s heart can’t help but flutter at Taehyuns’s concern for him.

“Nah, you don’t have to do that! I’ll stay with you the whole time.” At this, Jungkook gives him an incredulous look. “I’m serious! I want you to have fun, too.” Jungkook considers his words for a moment.

“If you disappear on me you’re buying me lunch for a week.”

“Deal.”

The party is well underway when Taehyung and Jungkook walk in. Bass coming from the speakers pulsates throughout the house. There’s a crowd of people on the dance floor, some swaying to the beat, others moving wildly. It’s not hard to tell who only has a slight buzz and who’s clearly overdoing it. Jungkook expects to see more people scattered across the lawn by the end of the night. As his eyes continue to sweep over the crowd, taking note of the guy currently hunched over and about to let loose every toxic brew he’d ingested hours prior, he hears a call of his name.

Following the direction of the sound, he turns his head and is met with the sight of a (very drunk) Hoseok.

Hoseok was one of the first people Jungkook had befriended when he first started attending school. When Jungkook had joined the campus dance team, Hoseok had welcomed him with open arms and a warm, inviting smile.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok slurs slightly. “I thought you didn’t like coming to these things.”

“I don’t,” Jungkook confirms. “I’m here against my will.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic!” Taehyung chimes in. He turns his attention to Hoseok. “I knew he’d just hole himself up in his room all night, so I dragged him out for some fresh air.”

“Calling this air fresh is a little misleading, don’t you think?”

“Ah, it’s really not that bad!” Hoseok says. “This is pretty tame compared to other parties here.” Hoseok stumbles a bit, and Jungkook reaches out to steady him.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Dunno. Stopped counting after four, though.”

“Aren’t you a bit of a light weight?”

“I don’t appreciate being interrogated like this.” Hoseok begins to walk away. “I’m off to get another drink!”

Jungkook watches his friend drunkenly stumble away, presumably to get even more wasted than he already is. He briefly worries if he’ll get home safely, but Hoseok’s done this before, he’ll be fine.

“Whose house is this, anyway?” Jungkook asks, taking in the valuable looking artwork displayed on the walls.

“Kim Seokjin’s.” Jungkook gives him a confused look. “Richest guy on campus. Only met him a couple times, he’s cool.”

Jungkook looks around again.

“I’m only staying for an hour.” Jungkook reminds himself. “I can last that long.”

“You’ll be fine,” Taehyung reassures him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to my friends.” he takes Jungkook’s hand and drags him further into the party. Jungkook’s lips can’t help but turn upwards in a small smile at the gesture.

Much to his surprise, Jungkook finds himself getting along with Taehyung’s friends. They seem to be much more outgoing people compared to himself, specifically Taehyung’s friend Jimin. He’s seen Jimin around a couple times, but never talked to him, the two of them existing in different social circles. It seems that a lot of time has passed since the two of them began talking, when really it’s only been about twenty minutes.

Jimin is in the middle of a story, dramatically waving his hands around to add to the narrative, when a song that some of the group, including Taehyung, recognize. They’re quick to rush to the dance floor, not wanting to be seated during what is apparantly the most well known song to most of the partygoers. Jungkook supposes he can let this one slide.

It’s when one song shifts into another, and then another, that Jungkook becomes nervous. He’s in a strange house surrounded by people he doesn’t know, all of which are a different level of inebreiated. He decides to look around for his friend, ready to remind him that he’ll now be feeding him for a week.

It doesn’t take long for him to locate Taehyung. He’s still on the dance floor, though he now has a drink in hand. He moves to get his attention when he notes that he isn’t dancing alone.

He’s not sure who the guy is, he’s never seen him before right now. He just knows the way he runs his hands along Taehyung’s body, the way they sway sensually to the song currently playing, is making him sick to his stomach.

He finds himself running to the door, hoping that Taehyung didn’t see him standing there, intruding on the moment he was sharing with this stranger. The longer he stays, the harder he finds it to breathe. He eventually makes it out onto the front porch, catching his breath as if he’s just completed a marathon. Once he calms down, he begins his walk back to the dorm, unable to get the images out of his mind. He checks the time. 10:47 pm.

He didn’t even make it the full hour.

Like Jungkook often does when he’s upset, he holes himself up in his room. He spends the entirety of the next day hunched over his computer, completing assignments before he turns to video games to ease his mind. While in the middle of a particularly tough fight, his phone dings. He groans before pausing, picking up the device to see who could possibly be disturbing him.

He visibly deflates when he sees that it’s Taehyung.

Not long after he left the party last night, he had seen a flurry of messages sent from the man in question. He elected to ignore them, deciding he had been through enough for one night. Now, though, he feels that he should at least let him know he’s okay and that he made it home safely. Sighing, he opens the text thread.

Tae Tae: Whered u go

Tae Tae: I thought i saw u

Great. So Jungkook’s staring didn’t go unnoticed. He drags a hand down his face before he continues reading.

Tae Tae: Were u not having fun

Tae Tae: m sorry

Tae Tae: :(

Jungkook finds his resolve cracking, if only a little. That is, until he reads the next message.

Tae Tae: I wanted u to neet someone

Well, this confirms everything he needed to know. His feelings were completely one sided. All the moments he worried he was reading too far into were just that, his own hopes being projected on to his friends. With his heart now heavier than it’s ever been, he finally reads the most recent message, though it barely registers in his mind.

Tae Tae: Hey, I’m sorry I left you alone last night. Time kind of got away from me, but I wanna make it up to you. Please let me know that you’re safe.

Jungkook finally responds, a half hearted “I’m okay,” and shuts his phone off immediately, not wanting to hear Taehyung’s apologetic messages that likely came in after.

It’s been days since the party, and Taehyung is beginning to worry.

He knows he messed up. He knows he promised Jungkook that he wouldn’t leave him alone for too long, but he ultimately wasn’t able to keep that promise. No, it’s not that he wasn’t able to, but rather he didn’t.

He told himself he’d return to Jungkook’s side after one song. That one song turned into him grabbing a drink, and ending up back on the dance floor with his friends. One more song, one more drink, one more song, one more drink, he cycled through these until an hour had passed since he left. He thought at one point he’d seen Jungkook, watching him in real time as he failed in doing the one thing he promised to do. He thinks now that it was likely just his imagination, his mind’s way of making him feel guilty.

He feels that he’s missed an opportunity. He wasn’t lying about wanting Jungkook to have a fun night out, that much is true. He’s always tried to push Jungkook out of his comfort zone from time to time. The other reason, the one he planned on surprising Jerry with, was introducing him to the guy he’d been seeing. He’d been friends with Shownu for about a year now, and they’d just recently decided if they wanted to explore being something more.

He thought this would be as good an opportunity as any to introduce the two of them, but he’d gotten carried away, and now Jungkook wasn’t speaking to him.

He felt a bit better knowing that Jungkook had made it home safely, but the coldness in his answer told him that he wasn’t out of the woods just yet. He’d really messed up this time.

Jungkook wasn’t only not speaking to him, he was even avoiding him.

He knows that Jungkook has been going to his other classes, if Jimin’s word is to be trusted, but for some reason he’s been absent in their one shared class. He’s likely been asking to be sent any work that he’s missed, being one of the proffesor’s favorite students. It’s unlike him to stay upset for this long. Soemthing must’ve happened before he decided to leave.

He decides that today, he’ll go and apologize in person. Somtehing he probably should’ve done in the first place.

He visits Jungkook’s dorm on a Wednesday afternoon, knowing that he’s in between classes right now and likely taking a nap. He makes his way through the small lobby and to the elevator, and suddenly he finds himself getting nervous. What happens if Jungkook doesn’t answer the door? Or worse, what if he does answer the door, but tells Taehyung he wants nothing to do with him? Or what if he knocks on his door and it creaks open slightly revealing Jungkook’s lifeless body and he gets framed for his murder only to suddenly be transported back in time-

Taehyung shakes his head. That’s the first episode of Erased. He’s spiralling.

The elevator dings, signalling that it’s almost time to either get his friend back or become the protagonist of an anime.

He should really finish Erased.

He makes his way to the dorm, operating purely on muscle memory after having been here so many times. When he arrives, he doesn’t bother hesitating, knowing he’ll think too hard and talk himself out of doing this, as he often does. He hears shuffling on the other side of the door, and suddenly, it swings open.

Taehyung doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jungkook in such a disheveled state.

His hair sticks out all over his head, he’s got on sweatpants and a hoodie, covered in wrinkles and mismatched. If Taehyung looks close enough, he can see a slight red tint to the skin around Jungkook’s eyes, signifying he’s been crying.

Taehyung feels something within him stir at the sight, but he ignores it.

Jungkook’s eyes are directed at the floor when the door first swings open, and when he looks up to meet Taehyung’s eyes, his own widen in disbelief.

They stand there in awkward silence for a few brief moments, not sure how to approach each other after how their last encounter had gone. Jungkook sighs, a tired, sad sound.

“Why don’t you come in?”

Jungkook is at a loss for words.

He was fast asleep when he’d heard the knock at the door, the sound waking him from his restless slumber. He drags himself out of bed, tossing on the first hoodie he sees lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, and tosses it on.

Nothing could have prepared him for when he opened the door.

Taehyung looks like he usually does, sweats and a hoodie with hair that was perfectly tossed. “People like the effortless look,” Taehyung had explained one day. He thinks he understands what he meant now.

After the two of them stand there akwardly, not sure where to go from here, Jungkook decides to invite him in. He decides if they’re going to stare at each other and say nothing, he’d prefer to do so within the comfort of his dorm.

Taehyung seems to look around the room, likely taking note of the mess that Jungkook currently resides in. A wave of insecurity washes over Jungkook at this.

“I wasn’t really expecting company,” Jungkook explains weakly.

“I didn’t think so,” Taehyung says. “I’m sorry I showed up unannounced like this. You’ve kind of been…”

“Avoiding you?”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence goes by before Taehyung speaks again.

“Look, I know I said I wouldn’t need to-”

“It’s okay.” Taehyung pauses, confused.

“You didn’t even let me finish.”

“I don’t need to. I’ve already forgiven you.”

“Then why-”

“I just needed space, that’s all.”

“So you’re not mad anymore?”

“Nope.”

“Promise?

“Yup.”

“Does this mean I don’t still have to buy you food?”

“Oh, no. You’re still buying me food.” The two of them share a laugh. The air feels much lighter than when Taehyung first arrived here.

Truth be told, Jungkook had forgiven Taehyung as soon as he opened the door. He’d started to feel bad about ghosting his friend, knowing that he would worry. He felt even wrose knowing that it wasn’t really Taehyung leaving him that had made him so upset, but rather his own feelings that were getting in the way.

If putting his own feelings aside would ultimately make Taehyung happy, then that’s just something he would have to do.

Taehyung coaxes Jungkook out of his dorm with the promise of greasy food from the campus diner, and he happily accepts.

A week has gone by since the two of them made up.

It hasn’t been mentioned yet, but Jungkook has a feeling that Taehyung will ask to introduce him to that other guy again. He knows it’ll happen eventually, and despite his dread, he just wishes Taehyung would ask so he can get it over with.

The two of them are at Taehyung’s apartment, claiming to be “studying” when in reality this was just an excuse for them to lounge around and watch reruns of Hell’s Kitchen. It’s when Taehyung keeps glancing over at Jungkook thinking he’s being subtle that he knows something is up. He grabs the remote and pauses, just as Chef Ramsay has finished calling someone a panini head.

“Okay, you’ve been watching me like you’re waiting for me to explode.” Taehyung chuckles, having been caught.

“Alright, you got me. You are so observant, you know that?”

“You’re stalling.”

“I would never!” Taehyung puts his hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“Please just spit it out already, you're making me nervous.”

“Fine, fine.” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “I want you to come to a bar with me this weekend.” Jungkook opens his mouth to speak, but Taehyung cuts him off. “Before you argue! I’ve been to the place before, it’s really chill. It’s like a grill and bar place. Not a lot of people go there, so don’t worry about crowds. It’s totally fine-”

“Now you’re rambling.”

“Sorry, sorry. I just really wanted you to be comfortable.”

It’s a sweet gesture, and Jungkook’s heart flutters against his will. He does his best to ignore it. He pretends to think for a bit about Taehyung’s proposal.

“You promise we’re not gonna get there and immediately be met with a huge crowd like we’re in some old tv show?” Taehyung lights up.

“I’ll see what I can do!”

“Then I’ll be there.” At this, Taehyung lets out a sigh of relief.

“I was worried you’d say no for a second.” Jungkook picks up the remote and resumes the show. “I think you and Shownu will really get along.”

Jungkook freezes. He’d never heard the other guy’s name before. Now, reality is starting to set in. This is real. He’s meeting the guy that’s in the place he’s wanted to be in for such a long time.

He has a feeling he and Shownu will not, in fact, get along.

Jungkook doesn’t ever think he’s taken longer to get ready for something in his life.

He’s still going to go, of course. He wouldn’t just stand his friend up after he did everything he could to accomodate him and his mildly crippling anxiety. He just wouldn’t pretend to be enthusiastic about it. At least, not until he had to.

He decides that this time he’ll follow Taehyung’s advice, throwing a leather jacket on to add to his otherwise plain outfit. He doesn’t know why he does it, maybe just to keep himself grounded, but he finds it comforting in a way. Like when he was a kid and he believed hiding under the blankets would protect him from whatever creatures may be lurking in the night.

Only this time the creatures are his stupid feelings. His stupid feelings which won’t go away no matter how many blankets he piles onto himself to burrow away from them.

The universe decides to break him out of the rabbit hole of overthinking he finds himself peering over the edge of, as there’s a knock on the door.

He opens the door and comes face to face with Taehyung once again. He manages to find humor in his current situation, the similarities to the diasastrous night that began all of his inner turmoil uncanny.

“I see you decided to take my advice,” Taehyung remarks, looking at his leather jacket. “It looks good.” Jungkook offers him a small smile.

“We should go before the crowd gets there,” Jungkook teases.

“There won’t be a crowd!” Taehyung says, exasperated. “You keep talking about them and you’re gonna jinx it.”

“If it means I get more free food, I think I’ll manage.” Taehyung playfully shoves him, and the two of them head off.

The bar doesn’t seem particularly busy tonight, much to Jungkook’s delight.

There’s a decent amount of cars, but given that it’s a Saturday night it could be much worse.

Entering the bar, it’s clear to see that this place is much different compared to the other bars Jungkook has been dragged to over the years. There’s tables and booths scattered arund the building, along with an actual bar for the people who would prefer the more traditional experience. There’s music flowing through the speakers, much lower in volume compared to the likely heavily packed clubs spread around the city, but still loud enough that the lyrics can be heard. The smell of food floats through the air from the kitchen in the back, the enticing scent having Jungkook almost floating in the air like he’s in a cartoon. There’s a few groups of people sitting at the tables and bars, chatting away, others on the small dance floor.

“This is the nicest place you’ve ever taken me to,” Jungkook says as the two of them make their way to an empty booth. “Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Taehyung chuckles.

“Oh don’t be like that, the other places weren’t even that bad!” Jungkook raises an eyebrow at him. “Okay, they were bad, but I can go to nice places too!”

“A broken clock is right two times a day, I suppose.” Taehyung ignores Jungkook’s thinly veiled insult.

“I invited Jimin to join us as well since you two seemed to get along.”

“For what?”

“I just…” Taehyung trails off for a second. “I didn’t want you to be a tird wheel.”

“Oh. Right.”

Jungkook hadn’t even considered that before agreeing to come. He’s glad he’ll have at least someone else to focus on to keep him from curling in on himself entirely.

As if on cue, Taehyung spots the two in question and, in an extremely embarrassing fashion for anyone else, waves both his arms at them to catch their attention. Jungkook hides his face, hoping that no one other than the two people now coming over, if Taehyung’s satisfied smile is anything to go by, will recognize him.

“Sorry we’re so late! Lots of traffic tonight,” a voice that Jungkook recognizes as Jimin says. Jungkook looks up to greet him, when his eyes drift over to who he assumes is Shownu.

The first thing Jungkook notices about Shownu is that he’s significantly more built than what he was expecting. The second thing he ntoices is that Shownu could easily drop out of college and pursue a modeling career. This is possibly the most beautiful man Jungkook has ever seen, and he finds himself fixing his hair because of it.

Jungkook has already decided that Shownu is his mortal enemy.

The animosity doesn’t last as long as Jungkook would have liked.

Shownu is funny, well put together, and just an all around nice guy. He does his best to include them all in conversation, and even offered to pay for the first round of drinks.

He’s almost distracted, not expecting to actually enjoy himself tonight, until Shownu plants a kiss on Taehyung’s cheek while Jimin tells a story. He feels his stomach start to turn at the sight, but he does his best to ignore it, not wanting to to ruin everyone’s mood with his jealousy.

The night goes on, the increasing alcohol in his system making Taehyung more and more affectionate as time passes. He’s leaning on Shownu more now, the latter seeming to enjoy the attention while also signalling to the waitor to serve Taehyung water in place of alcohol.

Jungkook sighs. He really can’t bring himself to dislike the guy.

Taehyung decides that he wants to dance, so he drags Shownu away and begins leading him to the dance floor, a few other couples having moved that way as hell.

Once the two of them leave, Jungkook lets out a breath, now feeling like he can breathe while the two of them are off being all over each other in a place outside of his field of vision.

“So how long have you had feelings for Tae?” Jimin asks casually, taking a sip of his wine as if he’d just made a remark about the weather. Jungkook is, understandably, caught off guard. He does his best to maintain his composure.

“What are you talking about?” Jungkook says after what felt like way too long to be an honest answer.

“Dude, you can drop the act. I won’t tell anyone,” Jimin says. “Though I’m surprised you haven’t told on yourself just yet. You’ve been trying to stare daggers at Shownu since we got here.”

“Trying?”

“Yes. And failing. Because you don’t even hate Shownu, you barely know him. You’re just jealous he’s in the position you wish you were.” Jungkook sighs.

“Y’know, I didn’t come out tonight to be read like this,” He says with a chuckle.

“It’s part of my charm. Consider me your traumatizing life coach.”

“Did you steal that from a TikTok?”

“Hey, I’m the one doing the reading here.” The two of them share a laugh. “But between you and me,” Jimin starts, suddenly sounding serious, “I don’t think their relationship will really go anywhere.” Jungkook’s interest has peaked now, and he turns to face Jimin fully.

“What makes you say that?”

“Can’t say. I’m sworn to secrecy.” Jimin thinks for a moment. “Besides, it’s best you don’t hear it from me. It would probably cause chaos otherwise.”

“You’re beginning to worry me.”

“Also part of my charm.”

“Is Shownu like…. A murderer or something?” Jimin shakes his head, an amused smile gracing his features. “A bank robber? A secret agent?” Jungkook goes silent for a moment, and then gasps. “Is the government after him for committing tax faud?” Jimin begins to laugh.

“Nah, nothing as interesting as any of those.” Jimin says, and then leans in. “He’s an alien.” When Jungkook’s eyes widen, Jimin laughs again. “I’m kidding! Just kidding. He’s just a normal guy.”

“Should I just move on then?” Jungkook asks, his cheerful demeanor starting to fade away.

“That’s up to you to decide,” Jimin says. “But.. don’t lose hope just yet. That’s all I can tell you.” Jungkook sighs for the umpteenth time tonight. “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“But what about-”

“They’ll be fine. They probably won’t even notice we’re gone.”

The two of them wave a passing waitress over to pay their tab, and head out the door.

The drive is quiet, save for the soft melody coming from the radio. They arrive at Jungkook’s dorm and, though the end of the night left him confused, he still had a good time. He thinks he and Jimin will be really good friends one day. When he opens the dorm of the car, he turns to face Jimin.

“Hey, um,” Jungkook starts, “thanks for talking to me.”

“Ah, no problem,” Jimin insists. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” Jungkook nods before stepping out of the car and heading to the dorm, thoughts floating through his head as he tries to figure out what Jimin knows about Shownu and Taehyung’s relationship that he doesn’t.

Unbeknownst to Jimin and Jungkook, Taehyung did, in fact, notice that the two of them had left together, if the tears that flowed so freely were anything to go by.

The next week, classes are cancelled, most buildings on campus are closed, save for the necessities like the dorms and dining hall, and people all over campus have either gone home or decided to hibernate in their dorms.

There’s a winter storm coming.

The snowfall predicted is said to be a few feet at least, and the roads will be iced over. Campus slowly becomes a ghost town, with no one wanting to be trapped in their tiny dorms under these conditions.

Jungkook opts to stay put where he is. He likes the idea of there being significantly less people around, snow falling and turning the once boring school into a winter wonderland. It reminds him of when he was a kid, and he would get to stay home and play in the snow, until his mom would call him inside, worried he would get sick.

He’s in the middle of a game now, deciding today was a good day to do the most challenging levels of Super Mario Maker he could find, when he hears his phone ding on his bed. The noise distracts him, causing him to fall into an awaiting pit of lava, the sound signalling his character’s demise mocking him.

He turns around to grab the device, lighting the screen up and revealing a text from Taehyung.

Tae Tae: Wanna go get lunch?

Jungkook is about to type out his response when another message comes through.

Tae Tae: You’re never gonna beat that level

Tae Tae: Too many trick moves

Jungkook is almost shocked that Taehyung knows what he’s up to, before remembering he’d been struggling with this particular level for weeks now and had made that fact very known. He begins typing out his response.

Kook: I’ll have you know I’m an expert gamer

Kook: Where we meeting up?

They end up going to the same diner they went to just last week, having already formed an addiction for the unhealthy food they have to offer.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much snow in my life,” Taehyung says after they’ve placed their orders.

“Me either. Normally I like the cold but I think even I have my limits.” Taehyung laughs.

“Man, we’re getting old huh? We’re sitting here talking about the weather. I thought we had at least another ten years before we got to this point.” It’s Jungkook’s turn to laugh now.

“Only ten?”

“Maybe not. I did just have to drag you away from a video game.”

“There’s no age limit on video games!”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this rant before.”

“You keep calling me out and you’ll hear it again.” The two share a laugh.

“Do you ever miss being a kid?” Taehyung asks, suddenly sounds serious.

“Who wouldn’t? I didn’t even know student debt existed when I was a kid, now look at me drowning in it.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Taehyung says, then pauses. “But what about like, I dunno, feelings and stuff?” This catches Jungkook’s attention.

“What like, hormones and stuff?” Taehyung chuckles.

“Kind of. Like, the only emotions we understood as kids were like anger and sadness and sadness. But not even like, fully either.”

“I think I get what you mean. When did things get so complicated?”

“Exactly. Everything used to be so simple.”

The two of them sit in silence for a moment. Neither of them usually discuss things like this with each other. Something has shifted between the two of them, thought what that shift might be, neither is sure. This is new territory for them, so neither is sure how to go about such a seemingly sudden change.

“Y’know,” Taehyung starts, “even with everything that’s changed, I’m glad you’ve stuck with me throughout all of it.”

“Of course I did,” Jungkook responds immediately. “How could I not after you were pretty much my guide throughout middle school?”

“You were wandering the halls looking for your next class for three days! I couldn’t just leave you hanging like that.”

“I totally could’ve managed.”

“And you’re also totally gonna beat that level you’ve been struggling with.”

“I was close!” Jungkook says, dramatically slamming his hands on the table. “I was so close, but then you dragged me away.”

“Oh sure, blame your lack of skills on me.”

The two of them continue to banter and bicker with each other, and things feel like they always did between the two of them. When their food arrives, they immediately begin trying to catch the food in their mouths, tossing it to each other and keeping score, and it feels like they’re back in middle school.

It feels like everything is simple again.

Once the two of them leave the diner, having filled themselves with unhealthy food that they’ll definitely regret later, they begin the trek back to Jungkook’s dorm. On the way, they pass by the school’s fountain at the center of campus. It’s frozen over now, coins that students tossed in for good luck rest at the bottom of the ice.

“Think we could break this and make some money?” Taehyung asks.

“It’s probably mostly pennies. Would it even be worth all the trouble?” Jungkook responds, looking into the fountain and examining the copper toned coins frozen in place.

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Taehyung is turned away from Jungkook now, but goes unnoticed as Jungkook continues his search. He spots an old band aid among the coins, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“The same place the coins are.” He looks up and sees Taehyung is facing away from him, but thinks nothing of it. “Your ideas of adventure usually end with us getting in trouble anyway. You’d be in jail by now if it weren’t for-”

Jungkook is cut off when a snowball is hurled at him, hitting the side of his face. He looks up immediately, meeting the mischievous eyes of his best friend.

“What? Too mature for a snowball fight?”

“You don’t know what you’ve done.”

Jungkook scoops up snow and begins forming it in no time, and Taehyung’s eyes widen in fear.

It’s not long before a war has broken out in the quad. They throw what feels like hundreds of snowballs between the two of them, laughing and screaming with delight as they do so. Eventually, the two of them tired themselves out, lying next to each other and laughing, the absurdity of their impromptu snowball fight finally setting in.

“We haven’t hung out like this in such a long time,” Jungkook says through giggles.

“Yea, it’s been so long. I’ve missed you over the past week,” Taehyung agrees.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Jungkook says. The next part, he lets slip out on accident, lowering his voice so that Taehyung can’t hear him. “I love you.’

He didn’t lower it enough.

“What’d you just say?”

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He couldn’t have heard him. He didn’t.

“I just said I missed you.”

“No, no. You said something after that.”

“I think you’re just hearing things. Did you get snow in your ears?”

“Jungkook.”

“I have to go.”

Jungkook stands from his spot and adjusts his jacket. Before he can make his escape and regret every life choice that brought him to this moment, he feels a tug on his arm.

“Say it again.”

“No. Please let me go.” He refuses to turn around and face Taehyung, and something in his chest aches at the realization.

“Don’t leave.” Jungkook says nothing, but he doesn’t move to get away either.

“I need to go.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes I do!” Jungkook yells, catching both of them off guard. “I can’t be around you. Not when I’ve felt like this for years.” Jungkook finally turns to face Taehyung, tears streaking down his face. “Not when I’m watching you fall for someone else. Someone who isn’t me.”

Taehyung finds his hold on Jungkook’s arm is weakening, and he lets Jungkook walk away.

Jungkook starts back on his way to his dorm, moving quickly, hoping that the faster he got to his drm the faster the embarrassment he felt would disappear. Taehyung’s touch, he found, burned against his skin, completely different from the gentle warmth he’d grown accustomed to. Taehyung would go to Shownu, and after some time, he’d forget about Jungkook. That’s what he believed.

He would never know that Taehyung stayed frozen in place as he watched Jungkook’s retreating form, tears of his own staining his face.

Taehyung has lost track of how long it’s been since that fateful day in the snow.

A few days? A week? Two weeks? He’s honestly not sure anymore.

Jungkook’s confession had woken up so many things in him at once. Sadness upon realizing that his friend has been holding onto those feelings fornsuch a long time. Guilt knowing that he’d essentially been flaunting his new relationship in his face, blatantly letting his friend know that he wasn’t interested in the most callous way he could do so. The worst part, though?

It had brought back old feelings he’d thought he had moved on from.

There was a time where Taehyung was certain that he and Jungkook would end up together at some point. The two of them were inseperable from the time they first became friends to a few weeks ago. It always made sense to him that they would get together and stay that way for a long time.

But things didn’t work out that way.

Taehyung had taken Jungkook’s shyness about the subject of them as a silent rejection. As a result, he’d told himself he had to move on from him, and for a while, he did. That is, until they’d started college together.

Once their environment had changed, Taehyung had noticed a change in Jungkook..

He was still averse to parties, that was still the same. But he’d grown more confident in himself. He’d been exploring different hobbies, started getting tattoos like he always talked about doing, he’d even joined a few clubs. Even with his newfound confidence, he was still the same boy that Taehyung had helped create a place for when they were kids.

Against his better judgement, Taehyung found himself falling for him again.

He thought that now, since he’d grown as a person, surely now he would confess his feelings. But the confession never came, and Taehyung had to once again push his feelings away. This is when Shownu came in.

Originally, they were just friends with benefits. No strings attached, they had agreed. They got along quite well, and that was all there was to it.

But Taehyung’s feelings for Jungkook still lingered, and he decided he needed to take it a step further.

He was thankful that Shownu had been okay with getting to know each other outside of the bedroom. Eventually, the guilt of using Shownu for his own reasons had started to eat away at him. He was leading someone else on but he couldn’t stop himself from doing it.

But when he’d noticed that Jungkook and Jimin left together that night at the bar, the dam broke.

That night, he’d told Shownu everything. The years of pining that had resulted in nothing, the reason he’d started their arrangement, everything, and Shownu had been nothing but understanding.

So here he was now. Cooped up in his room, sittting with the fact that he’d been casuing his friend so much strife, all because of his own selfishness. Even now knowing Jungkook’s feelings, he fears that he’s messed up too many times for them to ever have something more than they already do.

He’s in the midst of wallowing in self pity when he hears a knock at the door.

“It’s open,” he says, refusing to leave from the cocoon of blankets he’s buried himself in.

The door creaks open slowly, and Jimin walks in, rattling a bag of food like someone would do for their pet cat.

“I’ve got a piping hot bag of bad decisions with me,” Jimin says, approaching the vaguely human shaped pile he believes is his friend. Taehyung grumbles in response. “Still havent’ heard from Jungkook?”

“No.”

“You gonna reach out to him?’

“No.”

“You gonna stay in here and watch Bob Ross painting videos instead of facing your fears head on?”

“Yup.” Jimin sighs.

“You two are very similar, you know that?” Taehyung says nothing. “You guys really need to talk about… whatever it is you’ve got going on. That’s the main problem here.”

“What good will that do?” Taehyung asks, irritation present in his voice. “He probably hates me. And I don’t even blame him.”

“Well, at least we’ve crossed that bar.” Taehyung glares at him. “You’re not the only one at fault here, though. He bottles his feelings up as much as you do.”

“So what am I supposed to do, Jimin?” a sniffle. “I don’t know what to do anymore.’

Jimin’s heart aches at the pain in Taehyung’s voice. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the younger boy so distraught. He moves to comfort him, placing a hand on Taehyung’s back to try to calm him down, if even a little.

“I’m not sure,” Jimin says. “I think right now you should be honest with him. I think at this point, all he needs is for you to tell him how you really feel.”

“Do you think it’s that easy?”

“I do.”

Taehyung considers this for a moment. If he’d been honest from the beginning, years ago even, they wouldn’t be here. He just hopes that later is better than never.

“Okay. Then that’s what I’ll do.” Jimin smiles at him.

“Good. Now move over, Bob Ross’ voice eases the troubles of my soul.”

“What troubles do you have?”

“Two idiots not knowing how to communicate.”

“You’re sitting on the floor.”

Jungkook has never felt embarrassment as intensely as he does now.

It’s been long enough that any other person likely would’ve moved on, but this wasn’t something as simple as dropping your lunch plate in the middle of the cafeteria and having the entire room clap. Been there, done that.

He’d confessed to his best friend of several years that he’s in love with him. His best friend who he knew was seeing someone, at that.

He’s locked himself in his dorm once again, not even bothering to distract himself. Instead, he opts to just lie in bed and think about where everything had gone wrong in his life over the past few weeks.

Maybe he shouldn’t have let Taehyung talk him into going to that party. What if he hadn’t gone looking for Taehyung when he disappeared that night? Perhaps he shouldn’t have forgiven him so easily. He knew that last one wasn’t an option, though. He would’ve softened up eventually.

Now, things are different. He was okay with livivng with his feelings knowing that they would nver be reciprocated. He would still have Taehyung as a friend, and if he was happy, that would be enough for him, even if he wasn’t the one making him happy.

He’s been getting a lot of texts from Hoseok recently, likely wondering why he hasn’t been showing up to practices. Jungkook takes advantage of the weather conditions, claiming to have gotten sick. Hoseok had believed him at first, but the longer time passed, the more suspicious he got.

Jungkook has sent a couple messages in response, assuring him that everything would be okay, along with other vague promises.

He’s not sure what to do at this point. Maybe he hopes Jimin really has been lying so he can move on properly. He wouldn’t be shocked if Shownu showed up to beat him up at some point. He supposes he deserves it. Shownu hasn’t done anything wrong, and now he’s in the middle of this mess.

While Jungkook begins to spiral from regret to guilt, there’s a knock at the door. This time, he’s a lot less willing to deal with whatever this could be.

“Go away, no one’s here,” Jungkook says halfl heartedly.

“Hmmm, alrighty then,” a voice he recognizes as Hoseok says. “I guess I’ll take my snacks and Marvel movie box set elsewhere!” Jungkook’s eyes widen.

“Fine, it’s open.”

Hoseok walks in, a smug smile on his lips.

“Knew that would work.” He places his bags down before taking a seat at Jungkook’s desk, turning to face him. “So what’s up with you?”

“I told you, I’m sick.”

“If you were sick you wouldn’t have let me in.”

“Maybe I’m in the mood to infect someone.”

“You also get sassier when you’re lying.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

The two of them stare at each other, waiting for the other to break. A few more seconds go by.

“If I talk can we watch Iron Man first?” Jungkook says, not enjoying the silence in the room.

“Yes.” Jungkook sighs.

“Alright.”

Jungkook tells Hoseok everything, starting from how they met in middle school all the way up to what happened that day in the quad. He tells him about all the time they spent together in high school, how they had gone to prom with a group and ended up alone together in a park from their childhoof at the end of the night. He went through the details of Taehyung getting his first apartment, and how Jungkook had spent the first night there with him.

He talks for about an hour, and Hoseok lets him talk, not wanting to interrupt what appears to be the retelling of happy memories. Up until the current events that have him hiding out in his room, that is.

It’s only when Jungkook finishes that Hoseok decides to speak.

“It sounds like you love him a lot,” he says.

“I do,” Jungkook says. “I really do.”

“But it also sounds like he loves you, too.”

“Okay now you’re just making up things to say.’

“No, I’m serious. If what you’ve told me really did happen then it sounds like he’s just as ass over tits in love with you as you are with him.”

“Don’t you mean head over heels?”

“I know what I said.”

“But that can’t be right. He literally invited me on a date with Shownu.”

“Are you sure that night was for Shownu? He went out of his way to find a place you would find the most comfortable. Did he even once mention Shownu liking the place when he was telling you about it?”

Jungkook thinks about this for a moment. He remembers Taehyung ensuring that he would have fun, that this was the most comfortable place for him. He’d even invited Jimin out to ensure he wouldn’t feel left out at any point.

“I mean, I guess. But I think he was just afraid I’d cut him off if he dragged me to some noisy club.”

“Maybe it was both?”

“Maybe. But there’s definitely something there. I know there is.”

“And if there is? What do I do then? I’ve already confessed to him. On accident, like a moron.”

“Well, you already know how you feel. You just gotta wait for him to figure his feelings out.”

“And if he figures out he feels nothing for me?”

“Then you move on. You deserve to be happy too, you know. You shouldn’t have to hurt yourself just to keep him happy. If he was ever your friend he’ll understand that and respect whatever decision you make.”

Jungkook considers his friend's words. It’ll hurt, but if this is what causes the end of a precious friendship, then this is where it ends. He does a lot for other people, never thinking of how that could benefit him. But maybe it’s time for him to do that. At least once.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll just have to wait until I hear from him again. And when the time comes to make a decision, I’ll know which one I need to make.”

Hoseok stands from where he’s sitting and crosses the small distance between the two of them, wrapping his arms around Jungkook’s frame. Jungkook returns the gesture.

“Thanks for being here, Hobi.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m always here if you need me.”

“Can we watch Iron Man now? That was emotionally exhausting.”

“You do know that Iron Man-”

“One emotional outburst at a time, please.”

Jungkook is feeling much better these days.

He still hasn’t heard from Taehyung, but that’s okay. He’ll reach out when he’s ready.

The school has reopened, the storm finally passing and the ice starting to melt. Life slowly but surely trickles back onto campus, musch like the way the fountain in the quad has begun to flow like it used to.

It’s when Jungkook is heading back to the dorm to change for practice that he recieves a message he’s been both apprehensive about and excited to recieve.

Tae Tae: Can you come to my apartment tonight? I think it’s time we talked.

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to answer this time.

Kook: No problem, I’ll see you then.

“You sure you’ll be okay?” Hoseok asks from the driver’s seat of his car.

“Yea, I’m sure. I’ll just catch a bus if things go bad.”

“Do not do that. Call me if you need to.”

“Okay dad, anything else?”

“Remember what we talked about.”

“I will.”

Jungkook gets out of the car and makes his way to the door. He turns around before knocking, seeing Hoseok shoot him a thumbs up to cheer him on. Jungkook turns around, takes a deep breath and knocks on the door. Almost immediately, the door swings open, scaring him.

“Were you like, right by the door?” Jungkook asks, obviously startled.

“Yeah. Sorry, I was just nervous.” He peaks over Jungkook’s shoulder and spots Hoseok in the driveway. Taehyung waves at him, which Hoseok mimics before he pulls away. “Do you wanna head in?”

“That’s probably for the best. It’s still pretty cold out here.”

Jungkook lets Taehyung lead him to the living room, despite having already been here more times than he can count. They sit on opposite ends of the couch, not sure how to start after how they left things the last time they saw each other.

“So, um,” Taehyung starts, “how’ve you been?”

“Oh, god, can we please skip the awkward small talk? My head might explode,” Jungkook says, chucling slightly.

“Sorry,” Taehyung says. “I’m just not sure where to start.”

“Do you want me to go first?”

“Please?” Jungkook nods. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m nervous too.” He takes a deep breath. “Well, I think it’s safe to say we both know how I feel about you.” Taehyung nods. “It’s okay that you don’t feel the way that I do. You aren’t obligated to do so just because we’ve known each other for so long.” He pauses. “But I won’t pretend this isn’t hurting me. I can’t keep doing that to myself. I’ll do my best to hold on to our friendship but it becomes too much for me… then I’ll just have to go.”

Taehyung can only stare at him in shock. He can’t believe the words that he’s hearing right now.

“You think… that I don’t feel the same about you?”

“I mean… you didn’t say anything when I confessed to you.”

“You kinda caught me off guard.”

“That makes two of us.”

“But that’s actually what I invited you over to talk about.” A pause. “I’ve been in love with you since high school.” Jerry’s eyes widen. “Maybe even before that.”

“Wait, but what about-”

“Shownu? I just started hooking up with him to try to get over you. We just tried the dating thing to see where he would go.”

“So you guys are-”

“Broken up? Yeah, we split after that night at the bar.” Jungkook is about to ask another question, and this time Taehyung beats him to it. “I kinda thought you left with Jimin so you guys could… you know.”

“Why the hell would you think that?”

“In my defense I’d had a lot to drink that night.”

“You seem to do that a lot.”

“So I like a good cocktail, sue me!”

“You like several good cocktails”

The air feels significantly lighter than it had when they first sat down, now that their feelings are out in the open. The silence that settles over them after a bit more bantering is comfortable. They’ve moved closer to each other now as they catch each other up on everything they’ve been up to.

Jungkook decides he can’t help himself.

“Can I kiss you?”

Taehyung pauses immediately. He thinks he’s misheard him at first, until he sees Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to his lips. He’s certain his voice will betray him as soon as he speaks, so he decides to nod instead.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, they inch closer to one another.

When their lips finally connect, there are no fireworks. It doesn’t feel like time has stopped around them, and it doesn’t feel like the rest of the world has faded away and they’re the only ones left.

It feels like coming inside and having hot chocolate after playing in the snow all day. It feels like your parents cooking your favorite meal after you’ve had a hard day. It feels like putting on an old, worn pair of shoes after spending the day trying to break in a new pair all day.

Kissing Taehyung feels like home.

One kiss turns into two, which melts into five, and eventually the two of them find themselves unable to separate from one another. Jungkook pushes Taehyung down until his back meets the cushion of the sofa, and Taehyung allows him to do so. Jungkook’s dragging his hands wherever he can reach, wanting to memorize every detail of Taehyung’s body. Taehyung slides his hands under Jungkook’s shirt, drawing small shapes in his skin.

It’s when Jungkook grinds his hips into Taehyung’s by mistake, a whimper being ripped from Taehyung’s throat because of it, that they realize the compromising position they’re in. Jungkook pulls away, his eyes drifitng down to Taehyung’s kiss swollen lips.

“Do you want to-”

“Yes.” Jungkook blinks.

“You didn’t even let me-”

“Don’t need to. I’ve been waiting for this for years.”

“I just don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Ooooh, you think you could?” Jungkook squints at him.

“You think I can’t?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been with a lot of guys-”

“Can we please not talk you hooking up with other guys when I’m on top of you-”

“-and only one has ever been able to make me cry.”

“Wait, who?” Taehyung freezes.

“Forget I said anything,” he tries to lean up to kiss him again, but Jungkook pushes him back down immediately.

“Tell me who it was.”

“But-”

Now.” Jungkook’s demeanor has changed completely, but Taehyung can’t help but continue to tease him.

“Hmm I can’t seem to remember his name now. How odd! Bizarre, even”

“Taehyung.”

“Fine, you’re no fun. It was Shownu.” Jungkook tenses up. “It’s fine, don’t worry if you can’t-”

“Are you challenging me?”

“Maybe a little.”

Jungkook captures Taehyung’s lips again, much more vigorously than he had before. He grinds into Taehyung again, his movements deliberate, rough. The action elicits another sound from Taehyung’s lips, and Jungkook wishes he could make it his ringtone.

“Be careful what you wish for, baby boy.”

It’s not long before clothes are shed, scattered about the apartment in a careless fashion. They continue their minstrations, touches evolving into grabbing, light whimpers turning into loud moans.

Sounds of skin slapping against skin bounce off every wall of the apartment. Breathy moans and whines blend together, creating a symphony of pleasure between the two of them. They continue on until the wee hours of the morning, their bodies having grown slick with sweat.

Jungkook is the second person to ever make Taehyung cry.

The following weekend, there’s another party held at Kim Seokjin’s house.

Taehyung convinces Jungkook once again to go with him, promising they could leave whenever he was ready.

Jungkook is much more confident now, his arm slung over Taehyung’s shoulder as the two of them walk in. Mirroring the last time, Hoseok spots the two of them immediately when they walk in. Much like last time, he’s drunk.

“Jungkook! You came! I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“You saw me two days ago.”

“Exactly. That’s practically years!” He leans in closer to try, and fail,to whisper to Jungkook. “So what’s up with him.” He very blatantly gestures to Taehyung, who’s watching the two of them interact, amusement written all over his features.

“Things are good. We’re good.” Hoseok smiles before directing his attention to Taehyung.

“If you’d hurt him I swear I would’ve destroyed you.”

“You cried in the mall because a bunch of middle school kids tripped you and called your shoes stupid.”

“Middle schoolers are mean, man.” Hoseok hears someone call his name somewhere in the distance, and stumbles in that direction.

“Is he gonna be plastered every time we meet?” Taehyung asks, watching as Hoseok turns to wave goodbye to them.

“Honestly? Probably.”

They find their way to the same area they had been the last time they were last time, occupied by the very same people as well. This time, Shownu sits among them. For the first time tonight, Jungkook feels nervous. Shownu sees the two of them coming and waves them over.

“Hey, Jungkook! Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yea, Guess it has been a long time.” A beat of silence. “Listen, I-”

“No no, don’t you dare apologize. It’s completely fine. I didn’t expect things to get serious anyway.”

“Are you sure? Because-”

“No, really. I’m completely fine. I’m glad you two are happy.” He smiles, and Jungkook returns it.

He decides he thinks Shownu is actually a pretty cool guy.

Taehyung and Jungkook stay for a while, laughing and talking with the other people seated in the area. Taehyung eventually begins drinking to the point of heavy intoxication, as he often does, and Jungkook opts to take him home. They say their goodbyes, and Jungkook carries Taehyung out on his back and all the way back to campus.

Though it’s only been about a month since they were last here, the walk home makes Jungkook feel nostalgic. The night that had ended so badly for him had resulted in a whirlwind of emotions and unfortunate events. Even so, he thinks he’d do it all over again if he had the chance.

He glances over his shoulder and is met with the sleeping face of Taehyung, him having dozed off halfway through the walk home. As he gazes at the view before him he thinks yes, he absolutely would go through all of that again.

As long as he ended up with Taehyung in the end, he would do anything.

#taekook #taehuyng #jungkook #btsv #bts smut #bts au fanfic #bts fic #bts fanfic

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

Text

some thoughts that might seem unrelated but aren’t, i promise:

— in that atomic habits book I read a couple weeks back the author talks about using a specific, action-oriented question repeated throughout the day to help you build or break habits (like “what would a physically fit person do?” or “what would a sober person do?”).

— the aging books i was reading last month noted that people who score high in conscientiousness (on the Big Five personality traits) tend to age most successfully ie enjoy the longest stretch of active years. to quote this article, conscientiousness is “a fundamental personality trait—one of the Big Five—that reflects the tendency to be responsible, organized, hard-working, goal-directed, and to adhere to norms and rules...Conscientiousness comprises self-control, industriousness, responsibility, and reliability. A conscientious person is good at self-regulation and impulse control. This trait influences whether you will set and keep long-range goals, deliberate over choices, behave cautiously or impulsively, and take obligations to others seriously.” I tend to score very high in openness but very, very low in conscientiousness. more on this in a bit...

— my sister and i were talking recently about different kinds of intelligence, and also about core values. one of hers is efficiency, a word that i have all kinds of negative associations with lol but that she explained in ways i found really intriguing. for her efficiency isn’t about, like, Maximizing Productivity for Capitalism but is about methodically searching for the most effective, least confusing or redundant, most easily-communicable-to-others way to solve complex problems. when she encounters a system that has all kinds of weird bottlenecks or inefficient, time-consuming ways of completing a task (esp if the rationale for those methods is just “well.. that’s how we’ve always done it”), she starts immediately examining the larger structures and workflows around those bottlenecks to see if the established ways of doing things can be rerouted or simplified, and then she constructs new protocols or tools for people to use instead of the old inefficient way of working. efficiency will never be a core value of mine, in part because i think my humanities-oriented brain accords more value than her STEM/medicine-oriented brain does to wandering, daydreaming, slowed-down thinking, doubling-back or retracing one’s steps, and other “inefficient” modes of thinking that slow down the process but can lead you in unexpected directions or spark unanticipated epiphanies that illuminate the larger structures differently. i think we both share a keen interest in systems-level thinking and in examining whether established ways of doing things are the most effective ways of doing things, but we prioritize different modes of thinking and problem-solving in figuring out how to alter or redesign those larger systems (which is probably a result of temperament differences + our field-specific training).

THAT SAID, i have been thinking a lot about how one area of my own intelligence i would like to sharpen/hone in both my professional and personal life is like... a mode of intelligence that is linked to rigor, a more methodical approach to problem-solving, and the ability to construct & more methodically test detailed mental schemas. not quite sure how to articulate that but i feel like my thinking has gotten a little fuzzier than i want it to. and I think maybe this sensed fuzziness in thinking is linked to some of my ongoing feelings of restless discontent re: work. I also just in general want to be more conscientious in how I approach and solve problems, or in how I tackle big and small projects.

— this is more tangentially connected but: i feel like one thing i’ve noticed this year is that a lot of the people i admire professionally are really good at seeking out & taking on lots and lots of additional challenges or commitments, and they can do this in part because they tend to be very conscientious people, ie people who have big-picture vision but are also very detail-oriented and good at managing their time effectively & doing things efficiently so they can take on multiple projects without feeling overwhelmed. i feel like my own low-conscientiousness means that i can’t take full advantage of my high-openness—often i want to take on new projects or challenges but i worry that i’ll overextend myself or that the project will become more time-consuming than i anticipate. i think is linked to a different sort of fuzziness, ie a lack of clarity about how long things take or how much time i have — all combined with a deeply ingrained sense of myself as someone with executive dysfunction issues (poor time management, poor planning skills, poor organizational abilities, etc.). i think of myself as a very inefficient and extraordinarily disorganized person, whether this is 100% accurate or not, and that can sometimes lead to me taking myself out of the running for opportunities or limiting the number of projects i take on out of a fear that i won’t be disciplined enough to see them through.

— another thing my sister and i were talking about recently is how within large families, siblings tend to get assigned a “role” or a personality within the family dynamic very early on, and then they get sort of locked into that over time. everyone in the family expects them to always behave in that way, and there’s often a lot of unconscious resistance to letting your family members change or grow or develop in ways that contradict the clearly defined family role that’s been assigned to them, or the family “story” that everyone else in the family tells about them. you can get locked into both positive and negative roles—or like, often the positive role has a negative flipside. we were talking about how within our family, i’ve been “assigned” to be the “deep thinker” ie the introspective one who spends my life writing and thinking and daydreaming, whereas my sister has been assigned the role of being most like my father, ie very methodical, analytical, unemotional, and action-oriented (and therefore not introspective or inward-looking). and we were talking about how both of these have a negative flipside: my sister feels like she doesn’t get to be a “deep thinker,” or an introspective, emotionally intelligent person; whereas i feel like in my family’s story for me i am forever in “lalaland,” as my mom always says—head in the clouds, an ineffectual dreamer, the absentminded professor who has lots of big thoughts and feelings but is incapable of bringing any of my fantastical ideas to fruition because i have very little practical knowledge or stick-to-itiveness.

— as i’ve said many times before, i feel like i can’t solve the big-picture issues with my job right now, since so many of them are linked to shitty pandemic realities. but i was thinking that maybe one way to begin laying the groundwork for this final year in my job might be to work on strengthening my conscientiousness at the micro-level, ie in small everyday habits and interactions. my hope is that maybe by practicing conscientiousness in lots of small, low-stakes situations, i can start strengthening those muscles and building trust in myself as “the kind of person who does ____” (which i feel like is necessary for me to begin challenging the family story i’ve internalized what i am like). i mean, there is a lot of truth to that family story! but i bet that those aspects of my personality are nowhere near as inflexible or as like, divinely preordained as i have often assumed they are. like, i bet that through practice & through building better habits i can actually become significantly more conscientiousness (reliable, responsible, hardworking, efficient, good at follow-through, self-disciplined, etc) than i am now. and while efficiency may never be as central a value for me as it is for my sister, i think there is probably a way for me to see efficiency and conscientiousness as linked to my own core values, if only because those qualities or traits will allow me to better enact/embody my core values. so i think i can see it not as working against the grain of my personality, but as working to build out less-developed parts of my personality to strengthen the parts of my character that i value most.

— anyway this is all to say that for the last week i’ve been asking myself aloud “what would a conscientious person do?” multiple times a day, really any time i find myself at a small crossroads where i have to make a small decision. do i pick up that piece of cardboard and put it in the recycling bin now or leave it till later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i return that call from the plumber now or put it off until later? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i take two minutes to pay that $4 toll bill now or put it on the giant stack of “tasks i will definitely deal with when i’m in the mood to deal with them,” where it will inevitably become a $25 and then $50 bill because i forgot about it and now have to pay late fees? (what would a conscientious person do?) do i comment on that student’s draft now when i’d rather be on the couch scrolling through social media? (i could probably do it tomorrow, when i have another block of free time, but what would a conscientious person do?) i have no idea if it will work in the long term!! but it’s been an intriguing experiment so far, mostly because i think it is teaching me that many of the tasks i build up in my head as incredibly time-consuming are actually quite quick, and once you finish them you also free up all the mental energy you were putting into procrastinating on them, and are better able to move onto the next thing. i also feel like it is teaching me that uhh maybe a conscientious person is not like, a completely different species of human being, but just a person who has different habits or patterns of response to daily choices than i do. that feels important too: if we are what we repeatedly or habitually do, then changing what i habitually do can probably change the kind of person i am! i’m finding that there’s something very useful about the simplicity of the question, too. deliberately posing the question to myself interrupts my habitual, unconscious response (which is always some version of “i don’t have the energy to deal with that / don’t want to expend that energy right now -- i’ll put it off till later”) -- it requires me to stop and focus my attention on the present situation instead of sliding right past it without thinking about it. and there’s also something quite satisfying about framing it as a choice or a decision: i get to choose what to do, ie i get to exercise agency, and exercising agency makes your brain feel happy (we like to feel in control! we like making choices!). so throughout the day i get to experience lots of little bursts of whatever gets released in the brain when you make a decision and immediately follow through with it, and i think/hope that this kind of positive reinforcement is helping to strengthen those circuits and lay down the groundwork for new patterns of habitual response.

those are some thoughts this morning!! now i am going to allow myself a few minutes of sloth lol and then i’ll get up and exercise.

#mw #thinking aloud #long post

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thesvenqueen · 4 years

Text

With All My Love

Rating: MA (yeet, we’ve made it)

Pairing: Kristanna (as if it would be anything else)

Also on AO3

Previous Chapters

Note: i’m still unhappy with this bit but, i can’t look at it anymore. anyways, we made it lol

{Chapter 16}

For the first time since seeing Kristoff, Anna thinks he looks almost boyish. The surprise look on his face, his eyes wide, mouth agape slightly at the questions she has left hung in the air.

His hands have stilled, one sitting upon her waist while the other still rests at her shoulder, tangled in her long hair. He is completely frozen to the spot, jaw moving slightly as though he is trying to muster words but nothing seems to come.

Anna can’t help the smile that comes, the small giggle that escapes at Kristoff swallowing before finally speaking.

“I…” his voices cracks, he coughs, “...what?”

Anna’s smile softens, her hands running softly along his neck, up to the base of his scalp and feeling his hair between her fingers. “I said,” she nearly whispers, “make love to me?”

She stands on her tiptoes now, seeing if somehow the new height will add to her seducing. It doesn’t seem to do much as Kristoff still stares, licking his lips before speaking once more,

“Anna…”

“Please.” Anna says, nearly pleading, “Kristoff I...I can’t go another day not knowing, of wondering what if…”

Kristoff sighs, his hand that sat within her hair moving to cup her face. Anna can still see the storm in his eyes, though not near as strong as it had been moments before. Still, it’s as though it sits in wait, wanting to brew but waiting for the moment to bloom.

“Anna.” He says, so tender and soft, “Anna…”

For a moment, a brief moment, Anna worries he may deny her. If the reason he always stopped, always pulled away was not from not wanting to push her. Instead that he did not want her, he did not want to be with her in that way.

Anna begins to think, to find the words to say if that becomes the case, building up the strength to fight back the tears if he says no. She would respect it, of course, but the notion he does not want her would sit so incredibly heavy with her.

“Anna…” He says once more, leaning in till their foreheads touch. Her name is barely a whisper, said as though it is a secret just between them and when they stay like this, foreheads together and breathing in so close, the world could be burning and all Anna would see was Kristoff.

She can see every faint freckle across his nose, the small bags beneath his eyes, a scar going down his forehead above his left eye. More importantly, she sees the storm, the one now beginning to stir and brew larger with every breath he takes.

“Are you sure?”

Anna can’t help the gasp, the excitement that is sure to grace her face at his question. She bites her lip, trying to hold back the large smile that wants to bloom and nods.

“Anna,” A whisper now, a secret between them, “Anna, I love you. I love you more than anything but if you...you aren’t sure..I..I don’t want…”

“Kristoff,” she interrupts gently, grabbing hold of his hand. It makes her heart race at his tenderness, at the slight fear hidden behind his words. She knows why he’s afraid, understands what this next step will mean for her.

Maidenhood had always seemed like an odd thing to Anna, the concept seemingly thrown vastly out of proportion, in her mind anyways. To see a woman as sacred, as only being whole by merely just that and nothing else seemed utterly ridiculous to be quite frank. So many women casted aside through history, scratched from history books, shamed in romance novels that Anna had poured through over the years of her solitude. Every time it happened, Anna would grow annoyed, nearly frustrated at such a concept.

Why shame a woman for giving something that is hers to give away? Why chastise someone for doing what she wants, for making her choice? Why hold a woman to such a standard when the men in the same books would have several mistresses and scandals?

It was ridiculous, Anna had decided one late afternoon within the castle, and therefore she wouldn’t believe such nonsense. Come what may, the rumors and harsh words, but this was hers and hers to give alone.

No one could judge her for her choices, for choosing a man she loved wholly and deeply. Who in turn loved her with everything he had, had shown such with risking his own life to help her get to him.

She sees it now, the love radiating from his eyes, the love that has him wanting to be sure, wanting her to be ok with all of it.

It makes her smile, a lump forming in her throat from the sight, and says, “I have never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Kristoff stares at her, a small smile gracing his lips and he swallows before leaning forward to capture her lips again.

This time, the touch is soft, tender as his touch, moving slowly along her own lips. The heat is there still, pooling slowly deep in Anna’s belly, but the tenderness that comes from his touch, from his kiss nearly makes her heart burst.

They kiss for a time, still slow and languid, until Anna grows a bit impatient.

Moving her hands once more to his shirt, she moves her hands beneath it, pushing up and up till she feels his heart beneath her hands.

Kristoff moves back then, arms moving to remove the vest that blocks her movements, then stills. It was her pace to set, and Anna was going to be sure to take her time, to absorb every moment she could of this.

When her hands find his shoulders, his shirt following close behind as it bunches up with her motions, she licks her lips at the site before her. She’s seen his chest many times now, but never has she savored it as she does now.

Kristoff moves, pulling the shirt over his head and gods watching the muscles move causes Anna to gulp.

She stares, still staring when she moves back to him, placing her hands back against his chest as Kristoff dips his head. His lips find her neck, pressing soft kisses down and down, moving till he meets the top of her dress.

Anna’s eyes close at the feel of his hands finding her waist, moving back and up to where her ties lie. Slowly, as he kisses and savors her neck, he unties her, running his hand up her back & moving to take off the garment.

It’s then, Anna realizes, her hands are shaking. From excitement yes, but also the tiny ounce of fear that sits in the back of her mind.

But as Kristoff moves, so slow and gentle, always so gentle, to remove her dress, she opens her eyes to the realization that there was no fear to be had here. She stands before him in nothing more than her chemise and corset, a site he has seen many times before, and yet the look in his eyes speaks, no, screams of how beautiful he sees her.

He finds her lips again, running his tongue along her own, shooting a spark up her spine at the feeling. Her hands roam across his chest, feeling every breath and heartbeat. Kristoff’s hands still rest against her back, stroking lightly as they move up and down.

Once more, his hands work behind her, this time untying her corset. It takes little time before Anna feels the piece begin to loosen, until it’s nearly hanging off of her.

She feels Kristoff’s hands move to the bottom of the corset and push up gingerly, a question in his movements. Anna answers by raising her arms, leaning back away from him to allow enough room for him to remove it.

Anna doesn’t wait for Kristoff, leaning back to kiss him once more as soon as the corset falls to the floor. Mostly out of pure lust and want, but also the bit of anxiety that comes with realizing what is to come.

Kristoff must feel the bit of fear within her, senses it somehow has he wraps his arms tightly around her, engulfing her so all she knows is him and nothing more.

All her senses are filled with Kristoff, completely overwhelming her and calming her hammering heart. Another reminder that again, there is nothing to fear here.

He pulls back briefly, bending down and Anna watches him place an arm behind her legs and with a surprise squeak, scoops her into his arms.

Anna giggles, placing her hands on either side of his face, “You’re adorable.”

“Aren’t I supposed to call you that?”

“Yes, but I can call you that too.” She says, kissing him, “And you are.”

That makes him roll his eyes, bringing another bout of giggles from Anna at the site. He tosses her onto the bed, Anna barking a laugh at the gesture. She leans up on her elbow, watching as Kristoff moves to remove his boots.

There is a hum in the air, one that gives Anna goosebumps and she isn’t sure if it’s from the site of Kristoff muscles working and moving in front of her. Perhaps, and most likely, it’s the storm forming within Anna, the heat beginning to fill her belly from the notion of what was to come.

Anna has to hold back a gasp when Kristoff fully stands, hooded eyes looking her over. His gaze is so intense it causes Anna to blush, but she is unable to look away.

Moments before, he had looked like a young boy, so shocked and surprised at the request she’d made.

Now, as he climbs onto the bed, coming up and over her, he is completely different. He is every bit the mountain man, sculpted and created by the environment around him. From his shaggy hair, his lightly tanned skin, his tense shoulders, the rough beginnings of a beard forming on his chin; the way he looked at her as his, his and his alone.

It was nearly primal, the notion of you’re mine within the stormy eyes that peered down at her. He is laying on her now, arms on either side of her head to keep some weight off, but the feel of him against her fully, the comfort she feels from it was different.

They had laid together every night since they’d come to the cabin, have held each other close out by the river and in the flower field, and cuddled many nights by the fire. None of those gave Anna the feeling like she has now. This sense of comfort mixed with complete want is one she is unfamiliar with but one she welcomes all the same.

Placing both hands on either side of Kristoff’s face, Anna pulls him down to her, bringing his lips to her own and letting the new feeling consume her.

It takes no time till the want has completely overwhelmed her, Anna’s mind merely screaming at her for more.

With steady hands, she moves her hand through his hair, down his back and to the top of his pants.

The moment her hands rest on top of the rough fabric, Kristoff rolls his hips with a groan. Anna can’t help the gasp that escapes her, the feel of his hips rolling into her feeding the fire burning within her.

But she wants more.

Needs more.

As Kristoff’s hand runs down, coming to stop at her knee & finding the hem of her chemise, she moves her own hand around to the front and pulls at the ties of his pants.

They both pause, and Anna opens her eyes to find his staring right back at her.

She’s sure, so sure, and mentally chastises herself for having her small moment of pause. She should be confident, as confident as she was when she asked him minutes before to make love to her, and yet she can’t help the way her heart is pounding in her chest.

But then Kristoff smiles at her, the same tender smile she holds so dear, and the breath she didn’t realize she was holding escapes her.

Kristoff moves first, slowly moving down to her calf, squeezing it tenderly before moving back up though this time underneath her chemise.

Anna can’t help but close her eyes at the sensation, the feel of his rough, large hands moving up and up. Nearly engulfing her thighs, spanning her waist, and as he moves she is acutely aware of the gown moving up with him.

She doesn’t dare open her eyes, not yet. His hands feel too good, stirring the embers burning deep within her.

His hand finds her chest, pausing for hardly a beat, before venturing up to cup her breast. Anna gasps as he squeezes gently, rubbing a thumb idly over her nipple. Her chest rises up slightly on its own accord, begging for more of his touch, of more of him.

Anna finally opens her eyes as he pushes the fabric over her head, leaving her just in her knickers.

Kristoff is looking down at her with such affection, with so much love. Her hands come to rest on his shoulders, blushing at the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re beautiful.”

Anna smiles, unable to bring herself to speak. Instead, she leans up to kiss him. The feel of his bare chest against her own is heavenly. She holds him close, wrapping her arms around his shoulders to feel as much of him as she can.

She’s aching now, her core screaming for something, anything to ease the tension building within her. So she rolls her hips, trying and failing to keep the whine from escaping. Kristoff gets the hint, moving his hands to her breast.

As he does, Anna works to his pants, untying the strings quickly and she pushes down as far as she can.

Before Anna is able to fully push it past his hips, Kristoff quickly moves off of her, wasting little time as he stands and pushes down on his trousers.

Anna blinks.

She has seen naked men before in the form of books and paintings, seen images of bare men carved into white marble. The romance novels in the castle library made her blush at the description of the men within the books, creating an image in Anna’s head of the hero within her tales.

The paintings and descriptions pale to the real thing standing before her now.

Anna does not realize she is staring until she hears a slight cough, looking back up to find a nervous Kristoff looking down at her.

“Anna…” He manages to say, his jaw working as though he is trying to find the words. There are none needed though, none at all.

Just action.

With that, Anna sits up, eyes still steady on his as her hands find the ties keeping her knickers on.

His eyes go wide as they follow her movements, gulping as she scoots and pushes the last piece of garment down and off.

Never in her life has she felt so vulnerable, so absolutely bare in every sense of the word. There was nothing left between them now, just the air and space between them.

Kristoff is now the one staring, his cheeks turning a bright red and Anna can’t help the giggle that comes at the fact.

“Never seen a naked woman before?” She teases, easing the tension between them.

Kristoff looks back up to her, slack jawed with a hint of a smile, “I...I have but…” He blinks, shakes his head, “Anna, you...you are so beautiful and I know I said it before but...God's Anna.”

She blushes, one she is sure goes all the way to her toes. “Come here.”

He moves, his eyes never leaving hers as he crawls back onto the bed. Anna’s legs spread instinctively, accommodating his body to hers and once he is lying on top of her, they both freeze.

Neither want to move, both soaking in the new sensation of their bare bodies pressed against each other. It’s amazing, so many sparks going off at once, every one going straight to Anna’s core.

She’s aching, desperately so, and it makes Anna want him to move, to do...something, anything. So she breaks the moment, leaning up to kiss him, her tongue darting into his mouth. He groans, his hands beginning to move again and god’s she wants more, needs more.

“Kristoff.” She gasps, begging, pleading as he begins to kiss down her neck.

Moving as slowly as his lips, his hand moves down and down till Anna nearly screams when it finds her center. She throws her head back, her chest arching as he slowly moves a finger down and up, barely touching her. As everything else he does it is done with such a tender touch, his rough fingers feeling tremendously better than her own ever did.

She’s so wet, can feel it with every stroke he makes, then she gasps as he slips his finger slowly, so slowly, into her. It’s more than her own fingers could ever do, stretching her in the most delicious way.

As Kristoff nibbles her ear, he pulls out and eases back in once more, making Anna groan at the feeling. He continues the movements, seeming to listen to her every sound and move and soon enough, he is moving faster now.

The heat begins to build within her, a rope ready to snap at any moment with every pump of his hand. It’s when his thumb moves to her center, rubbing her sensitive nub that Anna finally bursts with a groan. She sees stars as she cums, eyes squeezed shut, and everything around her seems so far off, a world away.

She is gasping when she comes down, eyes blinking open to find a very pleased looking Kristoff smirking down at her.

Anna has half a mind to throw some sort of teasing comment to him, to ask if he’s ever done this before, but then he is moving again. He takes out his fingers, positioning himself till Anna realizes with wide eyes that his erection now rests just at her core. Kristoff stills, reading her every expression, moving a strand of hair from her face and then cupping her cheek. She is sure she looks terrified, something she is most definitely not, but she isn’t surprised by his question when it comes.

“Are you sure?”

Anna nods, licking her lips before she finally speaks, “Yes.”

Kristoff nods, murmuring a soft ok.

Still cupping her face, still looking down at her, he gently begins to press into her.

Anna gasps, the feel of his length slowly entering her. It’s a new feeling, one that neither she nor his own hands could ever recreate. He moves carefully, his eyes never leaving hers as he presses into her, stretching her as he moves.

There is suddenly a pinch of pain and Anna winces at the feel, squeezing her eyes shut. She knew there would be pain, had read about it many times but it still shocks her nonetheless when it comes. Thankfully, the pain disappears as quickly as it came.

“Are you ok?”

Kristoff, for the first time that night, sounds completely terrified, and when Anna looks at him his face is nothing but absolute worry.

“Yeah.” She says, placing a hand against his cheek with a smile, “Yeah I’m--I’m ok.”

Nodding, Kristoff begins to remove his length from her as gently as he entered her, only to ease back into her once more with a roll of his hips.

This time instead of pain, there is a new feeling that comes at his movements, one that Anna has never felt before and makes her gasp. With every gentle thrust she feels it, but it’s not enough, she needs more.

“Faster.” She whispers, the spark she felt before beginning to grow.

With a groan, Kristoff begins to move faster, pumping into her now.

Anna cries out, her arms moving to his shoulders to have something to hold onto. She groans as he continues to pump into her, Kristoff now ducking his head to begin to kiss and suck along her neck. She is only somewhat aware of the noises coming from her as he picks up his pace, focusing more on the feel of him, of being surrounded and filled with everything Kristoff.

The ember that began so dull before begins to burn and grow until it's nearly a full fledged flame, so much stronger than any other she’s ever felt before. As it builds, Anna grips rightly to Kristoff’s shoulders and back, her nails lightly digging into his skin.

Within her own sounds, she hears Kristoff murmuring into her ear a mix of her name and I love you’s. Only ever meant for her to hear.

She’s almost there, the dam nearly ready to break when she feels Kristoff tense above her with a groan. He pulls out of her, panting as he does and Anna looks down to see his hot cum spill onto her stomach. There is a bit of disappointment as she realizes she won’t reach her peak, the flame dwindling away unsatisfied.

Then again, Anna thinks to herself, it just means they will have to have another go later.

She smiles as Kristoff collapses next to her, his arm half haphazardly thrown across her stomach. He rolls his head, looking to her with his own smile and tightens his arm and pulls her to his side. Anna giggles as she snuggles against him, kissing his shoulder as they catch their breath.

Some of Kristoff’s hair sticks to his forehead, so Anna moves her hand up, brushing his bangs off his face, taking in the sight of him. She wants to take in this moment, as she does every moment she spends with him, and ingrained it to her memory. He eyes her with complete wonder, his eyes hooded before finally closing as he puts her hand at the back of his head. He’s so relaxed, so at peace, and so incredibly happy; just as she is.

Legs intertwined, arms around each other, the feel of his skin pressed against her own, Anna closes her eyes; never having felt so content, happy and loved ever before in her life.

#kristanna #kristoff #anna #with all my love #jessica writes

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badchoicesposts · 5 years

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Don’t Dream It’s Over Chapter 1

Summary: Liam and Ali thought that their relationship was perfect, but their whole world came crashing down when Constantine called him back to Cordonia. Four years later they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party, determined to make things between them work even if it isn’t always easy.

In this kind of AU, Liam and MC (Ali Moonessar) dated for a year in New York while Leo was still crown prince. They broke up when Constantine asked Liam to come back to Cordonia, but they meet again at Liam’s bachelor party before the social season. The story will contain flashbacks, which will be italicized, of their relationship and follow them as they try to navigate the season with Ali as a suitor. I’ve messed around with the timeline a bit so that it fits the story better. I’ve also added in a few OCs of my own.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Ali Moonessar), Drake x MC (Platonic)

Word Count: 2,556

A/N: This is my first time ever posting a fic. Please let me know if you enjoyed it and would like to read more. I thrive on validation, lol. Thanks for reading!

Ali pushed her dark curls out of her face for what felt like the millionth time that day and sighed.

“If I do this you owe me,” she said as she watched the bachelor party begin to shuffle towards one of the largest tables in the bar.

She had been on her feet all day, and even though her shift had ended over an hour ago, she had stayed overtime because of under staffing. Her boss was fair guy and typically easy to get along with. But, now she was annoyed, and as her chronic back pain began to get more and more irritated, she cursed him for not hiring a larger waitstaff.

A smile broke out over her co-worker Daniel’s face, and he threw himself forward, wrapping her in a hug.

“Thank you! You’re the best!” he said as he ran off.

“Hell yeah, I am,” she grumbled under her breath.

Ali plastered her customer service smile on her face and took a deep breath as she made her way over to the group. There were about six or seven guys, and she mentally prepared herself for what was sure to be a difficult table.

“Hi, I’m Ali and I’ll be your server toni-,” she began in a fake, peppy voice, before abruptly stopping.

Ali furrowed her brows in confusion, surprised to see the man in front of her.

“Drake?”

The man looked just as surprised to see her as she was to see him.

“Moonessar?”

Ali felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It had been four years since she had seen or heard from Drake Walker, but some things never changed. Like that damn chambray shirt, or the fact that he only called her by her last name.

“It’s so good to-” she began to say.

She was cut off by the strained look he had on his face as he stared at something over her shoulder. It didn’t take long for her to realize what he was looking at, and it suddenly felt as if all the air had been drained out of her lungs.

“Damnit,” she breathed out, already knowing who was behind her.

She could tell by the cologne. That hadn’t changed either. Ali closed her eyes and tightened her grip on the pen in her hand. Her palms were beginning to sweat, and she tried to calm her rapidly beating heart while simultaneously scolding herself for agreeing to cover Daniel’s shift.

She turned around and opened her eyes, biting her lip to keep the tears that were clouding her vision from falling.

“Liam, I don’t want you to leave,” Ali mumbled.

She buried her face further into his chest as their bodies swayed slowly to Crowded House’s “Don’t Dream It’s Over”. In the days leading up to his return to Cordonia she had done her best to put on a brave face. If she didn’t show him how much he meant to her and how much she grew to love him in the past year, then it would hurt less when he was gone. She tried to tell herself the harsh truths about their situation. Liam was a prince. There was no way their relationship would have become anything too serious anyway. By the looks of things, the chances of his older brother Leo actually taking the throne were slim, and that meant Liam would probably be king one day. There was just no place in his world for her. But, now that there were only twelve hours till his plane left, and she had about half a bottle of tequila in her, she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth or the tears from falling from her eyes.

Liam pulled away and gently cupped her face in his hands, his sapphire blue eyes looking straight into her brown ones, his own pain clearly evident in them.

“I wish I didn’t have to, my love,” his voice was soft and gentle.

Her tears were now falling freely, and she pulled herself out of his arms, frantically trying to wipe them away. His hands found her waist again and pulled her closer, kissing her forehead gently.

“I love you,” he whispered against her skin.

“Liam,” she said his name quietly, reaching up to push her glasses higher up her nose. It was a nervous habit that she had since she was a child.

Her presence had an obvious effect on him as well. He had stopped dead in his tracks, his mouth hanging open slightly, and she saw about a dozen emotions flash behind his eyes before he relaxed again and gave her a soft smile.

“Ali,” he breathed out, eyes never leaving her face.

The two of them stood there for a few moments before Liam, throwing all sense of propriety out of the window, moved forward and wrapped his arms around her small frame, his large body towering over her. It seemed like an eternity had passed since they had last seen each other, but she still sunk into him instinctively. The blond man was over six feet tall while she barely reached five with the right pair of heels, and she had always jokingly called him a giant. But, she had never felt as small in his arms as she did in that moment. As the familiar scent of his cologne invaded her senses, Ali felt a mixture of overwhelming heartbreak and nostalgia. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed in that embrace before the sound of someone clearing their throat brought them back to reality.

Ali had forgotten that it wasn’t just the two of them. Liam and Drake had come in with a group of people, and the fact caused a wave of embarrassment to wash over her. Liam met the gaze of man that was slightly older than the rest of them, and he immediately straightened his posture.

The man had dark hair, grey eyes, and was well built. He wore a three piece grey suit that stood out in comparison to the more casual outfits of the other patrons, and she immediately recognized him as Bastien, a member of the royal guard. He was obviously there to make sure things didn’t get out of hand.

“My apologies. That was completely inappropriate, ” Liam said, quickly glancing over the group before taking his seat.

Ali felt a sharp pain in her chest at his words, but forced a smile on her face nonetheless. She looked over to Drake, who still seemed startled, and he took his seat as well.

“Right, as I was saying before, my name is Ali and I’ll be taking care of you guys tonight. Can I get you started with drinks?”

As Ali turned and basically ran from their table to put their drink order in at the bar, she could feel several sets of eyes on her back and was sure she heard a surprised, “Is that THE Ali?” followed by a disgruntled, “Shut up, Maxwell!”

The bartender, Cole, had been a friend of hers for years and looked at her with concern as he took in her strained expression. She subtly nodded her in the direction of the table, and when he caught sight of Liam, his eyes widened to a point that would have been comical if she wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown.

“What do I do?” she whispered frantically.

“I don’t know! Where’s Daniel?”

“I’m covering his shift!”

The two continued their whispered argument for several minutes before someone clearing their throat caused them to jump apart. Ali moved out of the way so the person could order their drink and retreated to the kitchen to pick up the order for another table.

She dropped off the plates and walked back over to the bar where she collected the glasses and bottle that they had ordered. Ali shot Cole one more panicked look before starting over to the table. She was taking the smallest strides possible but still seemed to arrive there too soon.

“You look good,” Drake said, as she placed their glasses in front of them.

“Wow, that’s high praise coming from you,” she shot back, a smile on her face.

Drake chuckled and grabbed the bottle, pouring some of the dark liquid into his glass.

“You look good too. Especially for someone who hasn’t cut their hair in four years. If you let it grow out a little longer you’ll totally be able to rock a man bun,” she said, with a smirk.

Drake shook his head good-naturedly and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t respond, but Ali could see him suppressing a smile.

“I’ll give you guys a few more minutes to look over the menu,” she said, glancing around at the rest of the group, purposefully refusing to meet Liam’s eyes.

She turned to leave but only managed to make it a few steps away before being stopped again.

“Moonessar, wait!” Drake said, jumping up and grabbing onto her wrist to stop her from moving.

“It really is good to see you,” he said.

Ali smiled up at him and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“It’s good to see you too, Drake.”

“I- I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” he said, lowering his voice so that she could just barely hear him over the sounds of talking and the music playing over the bar’s speakers.

He looked down at his feet, and Ali got the impression that he was uncomfortable having this conversation. She smiled sadly, remembering the promise she had forced him to make the last time she saw him; even though things were over with her and Liam, the two of them would still remain friends.

“I understand,” she said truthfully.

She wasn’t happy that they had fallen out of touch, but she understood that it was probably awkward for him to be stuck in between the two of them. Not to mention, it had been four years. Life went on.

“It just sucked. I lost the man I loved and a pretty great friend all in one day.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something else, but she pulled him into a quick hug before he could. He barely had enough time to wrap his arms around her in return before she was pulling away and walking back over to the bar to pick up another drink order.

As the evening passed, she was faintly aware of the eyes that followed her every move, and she had to continually force herself not to look in their direction. The bar slowly began to clear out, but the group remained rooted to their spot at the table. When Ali finally began to clear away the dishes from their meal, there were only two or three other patrons still there, and Cole had already abandoned her in hopes of making it to some party he had been invited to.

“Hi, I’m Maxwell!” a cheerful voice said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

The speaker had brown hair, blue eyes, and an infectious smile. Ali remembered Liam’s stories about him, and although she felt about as stressed as she usually did during finals week, an odd sense of calmness washed over her. She knew that Maxwell was one of Liam’s oldest friends and that he was the most easy-going and fun-loving person in the world. She had heard of the legendary Beaumont Bashes that he and his brother threw, and although she wasn’t much of a party person, she had to admit that they sounded like a fun time.

“It’s nice to meet you, Maxwell. I’ve heard a lot about you!” she said sincerely.

He seemed to perk up even more at her words.

“You have? Aw, Liam, Drake, I can’t believe you told her about me!” he said, smiling widely and looking back and forth between his two friends

“I’m sure I’ve told her a bit about all of you,” Liam replied, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“You should properly introduce us.”

Ali recognized the owner of the new voice immediately. The man shared many of Liam’s features, but had slightly lighter blond hair and his eyes were a deeper shade of blue.

“As if you need any introductions, Leo,” she teased. Leo jokingly placed his hand over his heart.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended, love. Either way, it’s nice to finally meet the only woman who has ever managed to capture my baby brother’s heart,” he said, not realizing the impact of his words until after they left his mouth.

A tense silence once again fell over the group. Ali cleared her throat, and resumed picking up their plates.

“Yes, well, that was a long time ago,” she muttered, quickly combing through her mind to find a new topic of conversation. “So, who’s the lucky guy getting married?”

However, her question only had the opposite effect on the group as Liam awkwardly tugged at the collar of his shirt before speaking up.

“I am. The social season begins in a few weeks and as the new Crown Prince the people expect me to find a wife,” he said, quietly.

Ali felt as if her heart had stopped beating.

“Oh, congratulations.”

She tried her best to sound happy, but she knew her tone wasn’t fooling anyone. Another voice quickly filled her ears and she almost sighed in relief.

“I’m Charles, but you can call me Charlie,” said the man sitting beside Leo.

He had flaming red hair, bright green eyes, and a sympathetic smile on his face. A smile broke out across her own face as she looked at the shirt he was wearing. The words “Must Be A Weasley” were written across his chest in broad white letters. It was probably hard not to be a Harry Potter fan when you were a redhead named Charlie.

“I enjoy everything about that,” she said, gesturing to his shirt, not at all concerned with hiding her amusement.

Charlie straightened his spine in an exaggerated manner and smiled at her proudly.

“Charlie Weasley was the best Weasley brother,” Maxwell, piped up.

“I always wished there was more content about him,” Ali admitted, prompting a laugh from the two of them.

“That’s Ben and Bastien,” he said, motioning to the remaining members of the party.

“It’s really nice to meet all of you, and to see you again, Bastien,” Ali said.

She had finally managed to calm down a bit, but she couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had developed in her stomach since she had locked eyes on them. Bastien gave her a small but friendly smile which she returned.

“Why don’t you join us?” Leo asked, reaching over and pulling up a chair from a nearby table for her to sit in.

“Oh, thanks, but I should really get back to work,” she said with an awkward smile, only to turn around and realize that the only other person still in the bar was an older gentleman who looked as if he had fallen asleep while nursing a glass of scotch.

She turned back to them with a slight grimace on her face and saw that Leo was wearing an amused smile. Her excuse to get away from them had completely backfired.

#the royal romance #trr #the royal heir #trh #liam x mc #the royal romance fic #trr fic #liam x mc fic #liam #king liam #my fics #choices fic #choices #playchoices #playchoices fic #liam x mc fanfic #the royal romance fanfic #king liam fic #king liam fanfic

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handmaidensofnaboo · 5 years

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“Ultimately, it is very apparent this novel was noticeably, lovingly, and carefully crafted by a Prequel fan, a Padmé fan, a Handmaiden fan... Queen's Shadow is a fitting tribute.”

❦

Queen's Shadow had a somewhat impossible task for me as a handmaiden “super fan,” a potentially “tough critic,” so I commend E.K. Johnston for willingly providing me with an early copy to share my thoughts on it with you all... I was nervous about how Queen's Shadow would turn out to be honest, but EKJ was up to the task...

I'll preface this review by saying Handmaidens were my first real community engagement in fandom. My older sister and I joined the Royal Handmaiden Society on TheForce.Net boards back around 2001 when I was about 14. The RHS was the reason I went to my first convention (Celebration II) and although the group isn't as present online as it once was (please follow @royalhandmaidensociety), I made life long friends and it forever shaped and changed me. It was an overwhelmingly positive fandom experience at a very impressionable age and for that I'm forever thankful... So for those of us who have such deep roots to this, who have, for the past 20 years, analyzed the handmaidens’ every micro expression, every costume, and have carved out our own understanding of them (from what little information that would could find), this book might be a bit "complicated " to process.   At least it was for me.

With the announcement of Queen's Shadow, I was of course initially ecstatic, validated even, that they/we were being seen and heard, finally!! Yet mixed feelings slowly sunk in too. Despite us RHSers long lamenting the lack of content—handmaidens unjustly being overlooked in both Star Wars official media and for a long time in mainstream fandom—it also became this amazing small community space for each of us to freely imagine and play in. It’s been a kind of safe haven I've come to greatly appreciate. With a book featuring them... That could all potentially change. This fandom could change. I found myself wondering a few weeks ago, "Will I even like these girls? Will I love these new versions of Eiraté, Rabé, Sabé...” Something I've previously never had to consider. My fictional friends were about to be exposed on a larger than ever level, and reshaped, officially, forever. I was worried.  

I knew I had to go into this book open minded, no way could EKJ take each one of our different headcanons and fantasies and appease us all in one ultimate text—but to my surprise, there were certainly select striking scenes, moments, I had while reading, where (for me) she did accomplish just that.   After both the prologue and the first chapter in particular (which were centered around my favorite Handmaidens, from TPM), I had to put the book down for a while because I was so overwhelmed in the best kind of way. It truly was so close to capturing what I have wanted all these years that I just wanted to bask in it. Maybe that sounds silly but even simply one chapter filled with handmaidens, is an overwhelming amount of content for us to receive, let alone an ENTIRE book. This little fandom is just so used to excavating for scraps. I reread the beginning of the book again the next day, out of pure enjoyment, before I continued on.  

The unbelievable news, the great news... Something I can't believe even is real... Is that Queen's Shadow starts with handmaidens and ends with handmaidens, and there are handmaidens in… NEARLY? Every. Single. Chapter. I really never thought I'd never see the day. I’m stunned. Yes, they are different then I imagine them, but I'm happy to see them, I still like them, just the same. And Padmé, who has also been sorely ignored, unappreciated, and underutilized within general Star Wars media/merchandise, is also finally getting the spotlight she deeply deserves.

❦

Queen's Shadow is woven like an intricate tapestry threading together Padmé's stories throughout the entire prequel trilogy (especially the first two films), and highlights some of my favorite stylistic and thematic choices within them. Similar to the prequels (especially TPM) it reminded me of a period drama, with it's more formal dialogue, richly detailed costumes, ceremonies and politics, and admittedly a more contemplative pace than the swashbuckling fairy tales of the OT (but still engaging in it's own way). Also like the prequels, you get that occasional ominous foreboding, that sense of pieces being moved behind the curtains by shadowy figures, of unclear motivations by supposed "allies," of tragic destinies being spun—but still find yourself swept away by moments of hope and idealism, despite it all. There is a particularly heartbreaking yet beautiful finale moment of this book with her that was so fitting to George Lucas' vision of Star Wars, it was, as he once said, "like poetry—it rhymes." Anytime something can capture that Lucas approach to storytelling, I am thankful to be reminded of why I loved Star Wars in the first place. (Especially in the Disney era years when I've felt a bit "post break up" about the franchise, to be honest.)

Queen's Shadow is foremost about Padmé's work, shifting and hardening herself into her new role as senator. It does justice to the themes and qualities that originally enchanted and inspired me about her: fulfilling her duty to her people, her compassion for vulnerable communities, and fighting for what's right—through language, through political and inner power, strategy, and unexpected partnerships. And as always, Padmé is luminous.

There is one cause in particular she is advocating for that is notably poignant in its connections to TPM. I was incredibly pleased it was there, relieved even. It was so important and needed for her character. It enriches the choices she makes in the later films. And it is just one of a number of political themes in the book that are timeless and ever relevant, but wasn't inserted into the story in a heavy-handed way. I love that the main audience for this book (young girls), will get these meaty concepts presented to them through our beloved political heroine and the diversely talented women supporting her. While we do see the various skills and character moments of Padmé and her handmaidens, I admit (and this is just my first read impressions) they all still did feel somewhat at a distance for me. I personally would've liked to have dug deeper into their personalities. I'm not sure how to properly articulate it, but I just felt a bit left "wanting more"—for more walls to come down, to have gotten further into their inner thoughts... But I think it's partly the challenge of the large number of characters, the book’s YA length, and a personal preference of writing style. Which, in EKJ’s defense, does compliment these particular characters, who have long had these kind of untouchable, unknowable presences, these masks over them (and she does address that). I think as I reread it, my feelings on may improve as I retain all the subtleties better. But if they remain elusive, that gives us room to fill it out with our own head canons, which is something many of us all ~clearly~ enjoy! It is part of their appeal, part of why we first loved them after all.  It's also important to note the impressive attention to various Star Wars lore that is entwined throughout Queen's Shadow, from remnant gems of "Legends" handmaiden lore (and even RHS in jokes), to architectural details found in Battlefront II, to various appearances by Clone Wars characters... And many more I’m sure I’ve missed. Yet thankfully I can't recall any of it is done in a way that comes off as showy, elitist, or hard to follow (if for example, you're like me and admittedly haven't watched hardly any of the Clone Wars). Additionally, here and there, there were some scenes or lines that didn't quite hit the mark for me personally, one minor set of changes from "Legends" handmaiden ages irked me a bit (we had so little to cling to ok! lol), frustration at already established lore (such as Panaka and Clovis, which EKJ can’t help), and other things that were simply just creative choices of the author (which of course happens for me with almost every Star Wars spin-off).   

Regarding the last point, that was the only other occurrence where I put the book willingly down, this time because I needed to get some space—to process something I decidedly didn't like. It was about midway through the book regarding a particular minor storyline. I don't want to spoil, but I will say it involved a new character that, for me, was taking up too much room in a book that already had plenty of amazing characters I wanted to spend more time with. I just felt he wasn’t exactly needed, or that others easily could've substituted his place and it would've been more meaningful to the lore. These critiques are relatively minor however, and most of them are easy to move beyond, especially when I consider the bigger picture, and the majority of scenes, quotable lines, and pivotal interactions in Queen's Shadow that do seamlessly work. Those more than make up for the handful of things I struggled with.   Ultimately, it is very apparent this novel was noticeably, lovingly, and carefully crafted by a Prequel fan, a Padmé fan, a Handmaiden fan. For this I'm deeply thankful, because it's easy to imagine if it wasn't—How poorly or sloppily Padmé could've been mischaracterized or the possible omission and/or confusion regarding the handmaidens… The latter of which BOTH the revered Dave Filoni and Timothy Zahn are woefully guilty of, (full offense). It hits me sometimes how so much damage could've been done were this in less capable, less attentive hands, with an author that would've cared less. EKJ clearly cared a lot. Minor issues aside, that's really what mattered most to me, at the root of it. So I'm very glad.

  The more open minded you go in, the more you will enjoy Queen's Shadow, and (I say this for myself, as much as for anyone else who can relate) we can still make space for and enjoy our old head canons alongside to the new lore, or even mesh them together... I admittedly struggled a few times, but I definitely enjoyed reading it overall, particularly all the scenes on Naboo (and another planet that will go unnamed for now)...   If you love Padmé, the handmaidens, Naboo culture, prequel politics—this book is a must read. The more time that passes, and as I reflect back, the more I feel that Queen's Shadow is a fitting tribute to Padmé and our handmaidens, let alone the prequel era itself. Queen's Shadow will be comfortably situated on my bookshelf beside our other established classics: Queen Amidala's Journal and Queen's Amulet, and I’m looking forward to revisiting it again when the audiobook comes out (holy heck we're finally gonna hear almost all the handmaiden names pronounced??! Have we been saying them "correct" all these years?? Stay tuned lmao...) I'll probably be posting my spoiler thoughts on Queen's Shadow after the book's release on March 5, 2019. Pre-orders are available online, though I really recommend purchasing it at your local independent book store if you can, and/or requesting your local libraries get a copy! Please share your own pictures/thoughts/reviews on here, twitter, instagram etc. and tag it. We gotta encourage Disney to give us more, because this book definitively ends with an invitation for a sequel or spin off of some sort, and I, a bit desperately, want it!! The more we can support Queen's Shadow with the language Disney knows best ($$ and exposure) the better chance of future Padmé and handmaiden content, and they deserve it!! All of it—books, comics, Disney+ streaming miniseries, video games—Give them the legacy Rogue Squadron got. It's their time.  

Again, thank you so much E.K. Johnston for creating this beautiful book, and going out of your way to provide me a copy. I'll always treasure that moment when I got that surprise package in the mail, a book nearly 20 years in the waiting. I was 12 years old again, that snowy day on my porch.

  Can't wait to read everyone's thoughts. MTFBWY. ✨✨✨

Thank you for reading,

@handmaidensofnaboo

❦

♕ Pre Order Queen's Shadow

♕ Purchase Queen’s Shadow at your local independent bookstore

♕ Follow author E.K. Johnston: website | twitter | instagram | tumblr

♕ Follow cover artist Tara C. Philips: website | twitter | instagram | tumblr

#queen's shadow #ek johnston #padme amidala #handmaidens #naboo royal handmaidens #VERY minor?? barely any ~ spoilers~#um ps the background silk in this is from the inside of my original battlemaiden gown my sis made for me for celebration ii <333 #this is long im sorry #guys idk why yall write i feel sick to my stomach posting this and i edited it so many times all week aslfjaskfj #idk how yall can do this for large audiences #lmaooo

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doyouevenshipbr0 · 5 years

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gruvia drabble

author’s note: i get inspired by the most insignificant little things and i have no idea where im gonna go w this fic but...... juvia is so BEAUTIFUL omfg n i literally just wanna write a fic ab gray appreciating that. that’s it lmao. enjoy my loves!!!<333

**another note: haha oh ok it turned into something kinda rly different! its fine ig! psa im ab to kinda rant so u can skip this if u want!! if u wanna read this part it might be better to do it after u read the fic???? these arent spoilers its just kinda behind the scenes of ig.. ok so i try to think of gruvia in the most realistic sense possible. i incorporated gray having crushes bc simply, i think its true. i think gray had a crush on erza and lucy. i also think gray didnt fall in love w juvia at first sight lmao. i think it took a lot of time for gray to understand what juvia meant to him. also i find it INFURIATING that gray has never commented on juvias looks lmaooo (to my knowledge). like he said lucy and erza were pretty (at least in the anime) and literally all i want is for gray to acknowledge how fuckin BEAUTIFUL juvia is ongogmgogm. ok ok yes he commented "you're mine" and said "ur body is something i care about" and a whole lot of other romantic things but he has never made a comment solely on juvias looks and ik looks dont matter and im sure its hard for gray to even think ab juvias looks considering all the personality she has but literally all i want is a "ur cute". like thats all i need lmao. my girl needs recognition for being the most beautiful person EVER!! so yeah this fic is me trying to process how gray sees juvia, and even tho he doesnt say it, i can at least tell myself this is his thought process lmaooo. ((he also prolly doesn't say shes cute cus it would be way too embarrassing for him considering he has like actual real feelings for her)) ok ignore me literally typing word vomit lol pls enjoy ilysm. (((this rant is longer than the fucking fic. i cri.))))

Gray always had crushes.

It was normal, but Gray never really reflected on it until now.

First, there was Erza. They were just kids. When she first joined the guild, Gray thought she was weird, but he soon found out she was much more than that. She challenged him. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally too. He wanted to figure her out. She had a complexity that he never experienced before, and he was intrigued by it. Soon, the curiosity of the pretty girl with the scarlet hair molded into an admiration. He admired her beauty, her ability, and her heart, and the attraction just fizzled away over time.

Then, there was Lucy. This one was far simpler, and didn't hurt Gray's brain as much to try to comprehend. She was cute. She was quirky. She was a fresh face he saw around the guild. He couldn't deny the instant attraction he felt towards her, and he didn't necessarily try to fight it either. The bond was harmless, and Gray never expected anything to come from it, nor did he try to advance it in any way. She was just Lucy. A friend, a guildmate, and a teammate. While a part of him was inclined to make some sort of move, an even larger part of him didn't feel right about it. That small part that inquired for something more seemed to die out as well, and while he wasn't sure why at first, he was finally starting to realize what it was.

Finally, there's Juvia, who he would hardly ever consider a crush. Honestly, at first, nothing really struck him. She was pretty he supposed, but had an odd look. She had a dull personality. She was nothing special. Just another enemy to take out. That was all until their first fight came to an end. A piece of her did stand out to Gray, and it stuck to him. He wasn't sure why, but it did.

Then, time went on. Juvia's personality completely flourished, and it was like she became a whole new person. While Gray at first saw her mostly as an annoyance, it transformed into something completely foreign to him. He never knew how to place this feeling, and even now he still has trouble comprehending Juvia from time to time. While he wasn't sure how to feel about her, he did always know that she was something special. She was there for him like no one else was. She supported, helped, and loved him more than anyone. He was completely overcome by all of her. He was so overwhelmed by her love, it took him a long time to realize just how much he needed and cherished it. He needed that warmth in his cold, seemingly tragic life. While the people in his past died for him, she lived for him. He only recently realized that in some ways, that was much harder, and it was certainly much more meaningful.

She did have her faults though, as all people do. She was completely neurotic, clingy, emotional, short-tempered, dramatic, and just--well-- a weirdo, but...

he loved her.

He loved her strength, her devotion, her kindness, her optimism towards life, her enthusiasm, her humor (even when she didn't mean to be funny), and well- he just loved everything about her. Even the bits mentioned earlier that seemed not so great. He loved it all.

He had a hard time even calling Juvia a crush, truthfully. The way he felt towards her was far stronger than anything he'd felt for anyone else. Erza and Lucy held a place in his heart at one point, but now, Juvia was the whole thing. She owned every last part of it. It was a feat neither of the former girls possessed, and he didn't think anyone other than Juvia ever could.

And as he sat at a table across from the three women he ever had romantic feelings for in his life: Erza, Lucy, and Juvia, and pondered on these thoughts, he decided not only did Juvia have an amazing soul, she was damn beautiful too.

The strange thing was, Juvia was always pretty. But unlike his former crushes, he never really seemed to take the time to admire Juvia's looks. It was her personality that always stuck out to Gray.

But when he did take the time to sit and just look at her... wow. Erza and Lucy couldn't even hold a candle to her.

It was remarkable, honestly. She was nothing like any girl he had ever seen before. She was totally unique. Her hair was the perfect shade of blue that accompanied her perfect waves, making her mane resemble that of a beautiful ocean that he would absolutely love to get lost in. Her bangs fell perfectly over her hooded eyes that were coated in long lashes, and in them held a deep blue escape that were her eyes. Oh god, her eyes. They could tell you a whole story those damned things. Gray never had to ask her what she was feeling, because her eyes always said it all. Natsu was sitting beside him at the time, and said something that caused Juvia to laugh. Her plump, naturally pouted lips turned into a big beautiful grin in an instant. Gray wasn't sure what Natsu said, but it must've been pretty funny, because she then covered her mouth as she began to laugh even louder, and Gray was wishing she didn't hide behind her petite hands. After the laugh fest was over, she regained her composure and tucked an unruly blue lock behind her ear, and closed her mouth as her lips parted into a content grin, and just that small gesture shamefully drove Gray crazy. She was a masterpiece.

He decided he didn't stop to think about how breathtaking she was so much, because then it would turn into this. It became Gray relishing in every little detail Juvia possessed, and every mannerism she did. He never felt the need to look at a girl like that before, with such interest in detail. The feeling that took over when he really looked at Juvia was far too strong for him to comprehend too often. It was a feeling completely unfamiliar to him until he saw her. While his emotions about her were a lot for him to handle sometimes, he was thankful for it.

He was grateful for every last part of her.

"Gray-sama, are you alright?" She tilted her head ever so slightly, causing the tides of her hair to fall in a new, but beautiful way, and her eyes were filling with harmless concern. She must've finally caught him staring.

"U-uh yeah." He stammered. "I'm good."

"You're sure?" Her eyes began to flood with more worry, and she reached her hand across the table, holding onto his. Her soft, milky skin clashed with his rough feel, but they somehow fit perfectly together. He flinched at first, but instead of throwing a fit for his hatred of PDA, he decided he'd let their hands be. He wanted to take every part of her in right now.

"Yeah." He smirked, and slightly squeezed onto her hand, not caring about Natsu, Lucy, Erza, or anyone seeing them at that moment in time. She was all his. Not only was she his, but she was it. She was really the one.

"I'm just fine."

#doyouevenshipbr0 #gray x juvia #gruvia #juvia x gray #gruvia fanfic #fanfiction #gruvia fanfiction #fanfic #gruvia drabble #fairy tail #juvia #juvia lockser

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wxldchxld · 5 years

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@ashayara girl I cannot keep up with all ur urls lol

so this was supposed to be the final part of this, and it was supposed to all come to a clear and concise finish.... but i don’t think it will. on the bright side i’m 99 percent certain you’re the only one reading this and i know you won’t hold it against me.

but if, by any chance, anyone needs an explanation, I was just having a fucker of a time writing Asha and Euron’s fight, because as this entire piece makes it clear: I really suck at fight scenes. But, I mean, I’m proud I stuck this whole thing out. All parts put together made 25 pages in a doc and I feel like for the most part I followed through. Maybe @ashayara will write it, maybe we’ll all just imagine Asha stabbing her uncle 50 million times, or maybe I’ll finish this one day, but for right now I needed to put it down. Sorry Elsie. Still have mad love for you girl.

The sea was bizarrely silent beneath the prow of her ship. One ill omen among hundreds it seemed. If not for her oarsmen she doubted the tide would have carried them at all. The wind was still and suffocating, sticking to her lungs and dragging along her throat and chest as she tried to breathe normally. Everything felt wrong. She could taste bile behind her lips, and for a moment she gripped the railing of her deck thinking she might lose what little food she’d managed to eat, but it stayed. She forced a breath and straightened her shoulders once more.

The Black Wind had been driven tirelessly forward since Victarion had told her of his plan earlier that morning, and it was late into the evening now. The light of the moon was cold and unforgiving above her, unimpeded by the clouds, and the only sound for miles was that of oars smacking against the surf. Beyond the moon a million stars danced in the black sky. How could such a picturesque evening feel so sinister?

“You worry for her.” Qarl said quietly. He sounded surprised, and she could detect the slightest edge of disapproval in his tone. Just what he was currently disapproving of she wasn’t sure; it felt like she’d done everything wrong lately.

A huff of silent laughter rolled past her lips and shook her shoulders. With a half grin and a sideways glance she asked, “Are you jealous?”

It was cruel. She knew that it was the second she’d said it. Her words were a barb that sliced like a blade into a still open wound. They’d scarcely spoken since her wedding, and when they had spoken it certainly hadn’t been about her wife. It hadn’t been said, but neither of them knew how to reconcile the relationship they’d had before it’d happened, or even if they should try. She’d brought that painful reality out from the shadows and into the light with one careless sentence.

“How do you think the witches will respond when they help win me a crown paid for with the blood of their own?” In truth she wasn’t sure what her wife was to the witches. She held some station, by birthright as well as something to do with their religion, but that was the extent of her own knowledge on the subject. What she did understand, quite clearly, was that their marriage had been arranged to symbolize a promise to the witches. Beck was a breathing symbol of their alliance, and if Asha neglected or failed her wife, she failed them all. The witch king had given her this warning himself… and he did not seem to her to be the forgiving type. Asha shook her head. “If we manage to defeat Euron and she dies, we’ll be lucky if the witches with us now don’t all turn on us. Their king wouldn’t forgive that.”

Qarl was quiet, sullenly watching the waves. She couldn’t tell if he was mulling over what she’d said or covering up some unsightly emotion, or not paying attention at all.

“But you worry over her.” He said finally. This time she could her anger straining his voice.

“...I do.” She said after a long, tense moment had passed. Though she didn’t let herself dwell on that thought. The more she did the sicker she got. It was preferable to focus on the threats of the witches rather than the crushing guilt and bizarre sense of sadness that overwhelmed her when she thought about what Euron might do to her wife. Beck was vibrant and joyful and warm and---soft. She’d stand no chance against ironmen. If that light was snuffed out beneath her uncle’s boot, she’d never put it out of her mind. At least she doubted she would live long enough to let that guilt consume her.

“What the hell is that?” Asha opened her eyes and turned back to Qarl, but her gaze didn’t linger on him long. Behind him, against the midnight blue sky, a luminous orange cloud of mist was resting over the waters. At first she thought it was smoke, and that deep within the heart of a smog her ships were burning, but as they drew closer she could see it wasn’t smoke at all.

“Go and get Cuyler.” She demanded, sending Qarl a cutting look. Cuyler was the only witch left on her ship. There was little need for strategy and war council now. They hadn’t the time. Their only hope was to hit Euron hard and fast with everything they had and pray to the Drowned God for favor. Or---whatever witches prayed to.

Qarl all but ran across the ship, and Asha’s gaze drifted from him to her sailors, who had all stopped to gape open-mouthed at the enormous cloud beyond them. Wordlessly they began to brace the sails and tie down anything loose for fear they were headed straight into the eye of a storm. Was it terror or excitement she saw in their eyes? Perhaps both. Should they die here in battle not a one would be turned away from the halls of the Drowned God.

Unless he forsakes us all. She thought. The Damphair had preached many a sermon about not spilling Ironborn blood. While most of the blood would likely be spilled by her allies, they did so in her name, and she’d be a fool to let herself think she’d get through the night without having to strike down any of her own.

All for a crown… She shook her head as she turned back to the problem at hand. More than just a crown now. My birthright has driven me here, perhaps, but now it has become so much more.

This war was its own beast now, with its own life. When her uncle had sounded the dragon horn that day, he’s blown life into its lungs. Tonight she would slay it and him in one fell swoop, and in doing so it would save her people from ruin. Ruin that could only come from serving under a man who cared only for his own whims.

“The ships!” Asha startled a bit, having been so deeply lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t heard anyone approach. Culyer was standing behind her, fast approaching the railing of the ship. His thick, scarred hands gripped at the sodden wood, and he smiled for the first time since she’d met him.

“Ships? I don’t see any damn ships. Only that fog.” She jerked her head in the direction of the mist, but the witch only stared ahead.

“What fog, good queen?” He asked, not bothering to turn to face her. Though he did have the decency to drop the smile from his face given her tone.

“What fog?” She replied, her words hard and mocking, then she stopped and considered him. “What do you see?”

“Not but moonlight.”

Qarl cut in with a small, humorless laugh. “No giant cloud of orange mist?”

Cuyler, who Asha was certain at this point didn’t even remotely understand the concept of a joke at all, only looked at him as if he were the greatest idiot to ever sail the seas. “I see… Stop your ships. Drop anchor.”

“Drop the anchor?” She was starting to feel like a parrot she was repeating so much. Only that time it hadn’t been on purpose. She was genuinely shocked that he thought it’d do them any good to stop when the enemy was in sight---well in his sight at least.

“If you can see a mist where I can not the other witches must have surrounded your uncle’s boats in this mist to protect themselves.”

“Do you think all of your people can see through it?”

“Aye, and likely your uncle’s wizard as well.” The witch peered back out into the distance, and she watched as the pupil of his eye grew to twice the size, and his eyes, as well as his tattoos took on a faint glow. “Most of his ships are still far from our own; all but one.”

He didn’t need to tell her which one it was.

“If the witches who spread the fog can keep up the spell, we can take but one or two ships onward and cut down this Crow’s Eye. After our retreat we can drown all that remain.”

Asha took a brief moment to think. The swirling mist seemed to be reaching out to them now, when they’d felt miles away only a few moments ago. It was barely half a league from them now.

“Send someone to Victarion’s ship to help him navigate the fog. Have the rest of the fleet drop anchor. Bring the witch leaders here to me.”

Cuyler’s grin grew to something truly enormous and sharp and altogether horrific, “To battle then!”

Her eyes lost focus of him for a moment, even though she tried her damnedest to watch him closely. There was a blur, either in her eye or in the very space where he stood, his body contorted, colors smeared across reality as if drawn by a thick brush of paint, and then flapping two mammoth wings in the air directly before her, an eagle appeared where Cuyler had stood. The dark golden brown of its feathers muddled with creamy ivory around its head, and its tail was as white as the sea foam. He was larger than her, larger than Qarl, with claws that could have pierced a suit of iron with but a twitch. The razor sharp beak rose to the sky, and he screamed out over the waters so loud that the sound overwhelmed all her senses and carried as far as the sea was long. The shrill, grating note struck inside her like lightning, then with a single flap of his wings, he shot into the sky and soared out toward the awaiting ships.

Their short journey toward the mist passed in the blink of an eye, and when the very tip of the prow reached out to touch it, the entire ship lurched. Behind her she heard a chorus of shouts as men braced themselves while the Black Wind came to a screeching halt. The vessel pitched forward, its tip bending down to nearly kiss the waves, and then like an angry stallion it reared back up and threw its weight forward obstinately.

“Lift the oars! Pull them in!” She demanded, unable to release the rope clutched in her fingers lest she be pitched over the rail. The rough fiber clawed at her skin and chased away the normal chill of the sea to replace it with a raw, uncomfortable warmth. The bones of her fingers dug in harder, and she braced her boots against the deck as the residual motion rocked her ship like a child’s toy. When it was only just under control, she called the oarsmen to get back to work.

Asha took a steadying breath and then hurled herself toward the mast. Another rope found its way into her hand as she helped two other men grapple with the rebellious sails.

Eerily, it was not that the wind howled around them, nor that the waters below were wild, that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. There was a gut piercing, blood chilling silence to the world around them. She could scarcely see ten feet in front of her, and the mist seemed to suck sound from the air around them.

“Láta!” Came the cry of Ragna, but it was small and far away. Another voice echoed the word, and again and again. Láta. Láta. Until she could see the mist in front of her part, rolling like massive waves wide enough to allow them passage. The air rushed back into her lungs, and beneath her the ship settled.

“They’ve resorted to blood magic.” The red-eyed woman said. “Death drives this spell.”

Somehow she’d appeared at the front of her ship without Asha noticing her at all, and the other witches were fast approaching too. Now their voices were whispers, but in their hands they each clasped long iron wands in white-knuckled grasps, repeating láta, láta, over and over, keeping the mist from touching the ship, pulling more away from the cloud foot by foot.

There were shadows of ships in the smog on either side of the boat. Euron’s fleet couldn’t hope to move forward as their own vessels fought them. She watched in horror and astonishment as they lurched and toiled desperately on the still sea. And then she saw it, illuminated by a long stretch of moonlight, with mist lifting off its red hull and black sails; the Silence stopped its frantic rocking as the curtain of smoke pulled away. The ship swayed side to side like a drunk, spinning laboriously until finally it settled on the sea once more. They were closer now, nearly to the ship, and the soft light from the curling mist was just enough to see by. Through the long, narrow eye of her spyglass she could see that it was empty. Completely and utterly abandoned. Not even a shadow lingered on the deck.

Beyond Euron’s prized vessel, she watched the cloud forcibly tear in two around the floating fortress that was one of her treasure ships. It existed in a large bubble, sitting quietly beneath the starry sky, unplagued by the spell that had beset her uncle’s fleet.

“Is that his?” Harper demanded from her side. Asha took the spyglass away from her eye and gave a grim nod, but the Fox was not looking at her. Her rage was thinly veiled, and the effort that it took to contain it turned her soft face to stone. She was not panting, not audibly, but her chest heaved subtly. Was it fear? Excitement? Stress from fighting through the spell?

“Aye. That’s it.” Was Asha’s only reply.

The Fox needed nothing else. Her dark, predatory eyes shifted to the sky where the monstrous eagles circled above his masts, the tips of their wings dipping in and out of the mist like the fins on a shark.

“Let. It. Burn!”

The night sky blazed to life as the wings of the eagles burst into flames as gold as the autumn sunset. Speckles of blinding white glittered throughout the metallic flames; the frayed, toiling edges tore to reveal the ebony sky behind them, only to sew themselves together once more a heartbeat later; spears of crimson bled out against the golden field, staining everything it touched in shades of blood-spattered pink and burnt orange as they shot through the fire. The fire did not burn Euron’s ship so much as it consumed it. Like a pack of wild dogs rabidly tears apart and scarfs down its prey, the flames stripped the sails, broke open the masts, splintering them in all directions, and tore the planks apart board by board until there was nothing but embers and ash laying on the black water. She had never witnessed wildfire with her own eyes, but she imagined it looked just as unnatural as this. With a final roar and a sky shaking boom, the Silence died. What little remained sank down to the depths below, and for a time even the water glowed, as the sheer savage fury of the witches kept the flames alive even against the laws of the ocean itself.

The Black Wind glided effortlessly over where her uncle’s ship had been, and she tasted blood in her mouth.

Drawn by the violent display she saw men appear on the deck of the witches' ship only just out of her reach. Euron's men drew bows and took aiming, first at her ship, and then, upon seeing the flaming beasts in the sky, up to the air. Once more the eagles were descending, their beating wings dancing with fire. They were met the hail storm of arrows as they dove and three of them dropped with pained screeches into the sea below. Another spiraled and rolled along the deck of the ship, met with a spear before it could try and get to its feet. But those that remained swooped down on Euron's men. They took grown men in their grasp, setting their talons straight into their chests effortlessly.

Her axe was wetted as soon as her feet hit the deck. Another wave of men emerged onto the lower deck and made their charge. Her arm swung, digging her blade into a short man’s shoulder. He gasped and drew back to strike her, but she slipped out of the way and brought her axe down on the back of his neck as he stumbled. A sharp pain erupted at the base of her spine, and she heard her back pop. She hit the railing of the deck and turned to face her assailant, gasping for the air that had been ripped from her. A sword shot out from his chest and the man choked and spasmed; blood sputtered out of his lips, hot and wet, and splattered along her cheek. The sword withdrew as the man fell, and Qarl smiled sadistically as the blood only smeared on her pale flesh when she went to wipe it away.

“Duck you bumbling fool!” She demanded, her hand not hesitating as she hurled a throwing axe toward Qarl. He was quick enough to step out of the way, but so was the man behind him. Her axe was blown aside by his shield, but the moment’s distraction was enough that Qarl could land a blow to his exposed leg. The man had no sooner hit the deck than her boot crashed against his face with a satisfying crack. Around her the flood of men pouring onto the ship were swiftly driving back Euron’s small force. But she knew he wasn’t fool enough to waste all of his resources here on the lower deck. This was merely a distraction while he readied himself.

“Where are the witches?” She had to holler over the chaos around her. Now Victarion’s ship was docking, and the bloodthirsty shouts of battle hungry men drowned out the sounds of everything else. Asha kicked the man again, accidentally catching him at the base of his throat. He gagged and coughed, slobbering piteously on the sea-soaked wood, and her patience dissolved before he could recover. She wrenched the axe from his shaking hand and hefted it down into the back of his skull.

“Where are my witches?!” She roared above the crowd. Those who had captives still yet breathing momentarily paused in their assault to parrot her question, but it was one of the eagles that answered.

“The wizard and the Crow’s Eye are on the main deck.” The words echoed not in the air, but in her thoughts. “But there are no witches. None alive at least.”

Asha shot a look to Qarl, but as far as she could tell by the wary expressions on the faces of every man on the boat, no one else had heard. She looked to the eagles as they circled in the sky above.

Was this some sort of grand farce? Was Euron baiting her? Now instead of blood it was bile on her tongue. Where was her wife? Why couldn’t one damn person tell her where her fucking wife was? She looked up at the ship’s sails again, thinking perhaps she’d seen wrong; perhaps this wasn’t the Fox Clan’s ship. But in the dim light of the mist and the moon, she could see the silhouette of the fox straining against the wind.

“Ragna and I take will take a force below deck!” The Seal King panted. For the first time he was devoid of his atrocious coat. He pointed with the spear in his hand to the shrouded doorway. “The lower decks are the hardest to breech. Those that could hide would have done it there.”

The Badger was practically unrecognizable under her sheen of shattered glass and blood that seemed to pulse and fog along her once-pale skin. Her black eyes gleamed malevolently as she shot a glance in her direction, and then she followed the Seal.

“Tell your eagles to hold back and stay out of range for now.” She said to the Fox. “We’ll need them to drive Euron’s men back from the entrance to the main deck.”

The witch nodded, and after a flurry of heated words, Asha reluctantly agreed to follow behind on their way to the main deck. This was her fight, she was the one who had everything at stake, and she more than anyone needed to see if her wife was among the corpses littering the ship’s floor, but even she conceded that the greatest risk fell on those who stepped over the threshold first. But she did not want for brave men ready to meet the Drowned God, either.

The halls inside the ship were so dark that if she’d have let go of the wall she’d have wandered off into the shadows and lost herself in a second. Not even the lone torch that one of her men carried could cast light enough to fill more than a small halo around him. Without her sight, she could only feel; she could only hear and smell. And she did her best not to focus on the smell, as that the stench of blood was so thick in the room that it clogged her nose with each breath. The waves were quiet this far below the surface, but the walls creaked and groaned steadily as the ocean pressed in against them. Apart from that, all she could hear were the careful footsteps and choppy breaths of her men, occasionally interrupted by the head of the line stumbling, swearing, and then calling out for the rest of them to step over the body in the way. Each corpse she crossed she stared at twice as long as she needed to, never stopping, but always needing to be absolutely sure that the lifeless face was not that of her wife. It didn’t do her any good in the dark, and as the minutes dragged on her dread and her anger only grew.

What few men Ragna and the Seal King had not disposed of were quickly felled by her front lines. They lost one by the time they reached the narrow staircase leading to the main deck, and that was she best she could have hoped for.

“He’s waiting for us.” Victarion said over his hulking shoulder. Even he preceded her, much to her annoyance, but he did stand a better chance against the initial assault in all his armor. He took up so much space his shoulders nearly scraped the sides of the hall as he walked, and in his ironclad boots his footsteps were about as subtle as a newly shod yearling on cobblestones. He was exhausting even when he was being helpful. They’d come to an agreement, yes, but she still couldn’t help but wish he wouldn’t make it back to the mainland. It’d save her a lot of headaches in the long run---and they’d never had much love for each other.

“He’s got the advantage. He’ll wait forever if we let him.” She said; her hand came to rest on the hook of her axe.

She felt a soft, slender figure slip past her and threw a questioning look over her shoulder to see Harper squeezing into the space in front of her as best she could.

“We’re going to ram the boat.” She whispered. Bracing herself against the wall in between Asha and her uncle. The proximity to the Fox was making Asha uncomfortable. So close to the battle Asha would have thought she’d seen fear or rage reflected in her eyes or at least a thread of tension in her voice, but her gaze was still cold and calculating, and when she spoke the words were steady. Asha didn’t feel right looking at something so pragmatic and emotionless, especially not when her rage and her worry were at war within her own chest.

Harper briefly glanced over her shoulder, then turned back to the queen once more. “With any luck it’ll knock some of his men off balance. Give the eagles a chance to come down without any arrows flying. The second you see the flames, charge. With any luck we’ll catch the bastards with their breeches ‘round their knees.”

She was unaccustomed to this much---planning in an open water battle, otherwise she might have objected to everyone else doing the planning for her. That was magic, she supposed. Even when there were no options in sight, it gave you some.

No sooner had she braced against the wall then she felt the ship pitch backward with such a force that even those who had prepared themselves could be heard stumbling behind her. Whatever had hit the boat, if it’d been anything at all, surely hadn’t been another ship. It’d come from beneath the vessel. Visions from her dreams flew through her head, flashes of great leviathans and krakens the size of a longship, but she did not have time to dwell on them. Ahead she heard the commotion of Euron’s men shouting in alarm, and then the piercing scream of eagles beneath the roar of a fire as light flooded the top of the staircase.

Asha took three breaths, trying to memorize and anticipate the residual rocking of the ship beneath her feet, and then she charge forward with the rest of them, up into the blinding white light of the deck, her axe clutched firmly in hand.

At first she could see only shadows, blurry and distorted amid the intense flames of the fire. Great, hulking shadows hovering in the air, and the mad, flailing silhouettes of men waving their swords indiscriminately. The fire began to dwindle and fade, unable to catch hold of the deck of the ship. To her left three men leaped onto the back of one of the great beasts, thrusting their swords into its hide and hanging onto them for dear life as the creature flapped and screamed. Ultimately it fell and the light faded even more. One by one the eagles were either forced to flee or were slain, but by the time Euron’s men made a decent recovery, a small force of her own was already charging, with more filing out of the hall at every moment.

“Guard the entrance!” She demanded, looking to Harper, who had somehow managed to split open the throats of three charging men by simply pointing her wand at them, and Victarion who was removing his war axe from the gut of a sputtering corpse. If Euron’s men managed to gain back the entrance to the lower deck, they’d have no reinforcements and be done for in minutes. Neither of them looked at her, but they stayed near the door as the rest of them made their charge.

An axe flew in her direction, and in one deft motion she took it up in her own hand and hefted it back at the man rushing her. It caught him in the eye and sent him spiralling past her onto the blade of one of her men. Qarl. He was still right at her back. Asha spared him only a glance before pushing further into the fray. She plunged her axe into the next man’s throat, and ripped it out only to swing it into the side of another. His sword hand raised and crashed against her chin, hard. She spat blood, the taste of it filling her mouth with copper and her chest with a boiling rage. A cry of fury was strangled from her chest as she swung her axe down on the back of his neck, almost cutting it clean from his shoulders. More blood sprayed, making her grip on her blade hot and wet, and in spite of herself she smiled.

As she jerked it free she straightened herself and wildly searched the deck for the Crow’s Eye. Her eyes frantically dragged across the blood red sea of people. She saw Victarion crash two men’s head together in a way that might have been comical if the skulls hadn’t split and their brains hadn’t bubbled out the side like a bit of spilled stew. Her gaze didn’t linger. She didn’t care. Qarl was splitting open a man’s gut, and still she looked on. A serpent the size of ten men was coiled around Euron’s wizard, forcing its mouth over his shoulders and swallowing him alive. Still she tore her eyes away until she found him, looming above the battle on the upper deck like a coward. He was watching her.

She blindly cut her way through the crowd, unaware if she was killing men or simply taking them to their knees. She couldn’t avoid every swing of their axes or thrusts of their swords, but she barely felt the sting of any blade that split her skin. Every prickle of pain only served to strengthen the bitter taste of fury and bloodlust on her tongue.

And then something felt wrong. Her back felt naked---exposed---and as she ripped her eyes away from her uncle, reality came back to her. Qarl. She couldn’t see him now. He wasn’t at her back, nor her side, nor even fighting on ahead to bait her. Every face she looked on was wrong. Each pair of eyes belonged to someone she cared nothing for.

Her wild eyes landed two figures, one slumped over the other, but shaking with thunderous laughter. Like that same laughter from her dream. Mad and wild, trembling in the air and drowning out all other sound. Like a red hot sword plunged into ice water, she felt her fury immediately harden and turn to piercing fear. She slammed the blade of her axe down between the figure’s shoulders, watching the flesh split and his body jerk. Still he laughed and laughed, and the cold terror felt like mania inside her now. She struck again and again, screaming raggedly to overwhelm the sound of his laughter. Even once he was dead and silent, she hit him three more times before ripping his body away.

Qarl.

She might have wretched. She might have fainted. What miraculous force kept her from doing either she didn’t know, but she could not stop herself from falling to her knees.

He stared back at her with wide, glassy eyes. Neither alive nor dead, caught in the agonizing limbo between the two. His hands were clutching his side uselessly. From the gaping wound she could see his entrails snaking out onto the deck of the ship. He began to cough, blood bubbling up from his lips, and she caught his head in her hands as her axe clattered to the deck.

“Qarl!” Her voice was far from gentle, far from loving, and she couldn’t force any softness upon it. Even in her grief there were only sharp edges and hard demands to offer this man that she loved… but he looked at her. By some merciful twist of fate, her words brought him back to her. Those dark eyes met hers. His mouth gaped open and then closed, and she could not tell if he meant to speak or if he was only desperate for breath. She kept his gaze, feeling tears welling in her own eyes, feeling a thousand apologies and confessions gather on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t speak. She couldn’t afford to cry for him now. A trembling hand pressed against the nape of her neck, and he weakly pulled her forward. She met his lips in a desperate kiss, as if she might give him some of her own life, and she held him to her until the hand in her hair went limp and fell away. Against her lips she felt him smile, and she pulled away long enough to watch the last glint of life fade from his eyes.

Dead. He was dead. She had loved no one else. She had trusted no one else. Not as a woman, at least. She had loved her mother as a ghost, she had loved her lord father as wish, and she had loved her brothers as corpses, but Qarl she had loved as the man he was. He had been real and tangible… and Euron had taken him from her.

#drabbles #ashayara #also no i don't care that i randomly started capitalizing #in my author's note

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wormy-business · 5 years

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Music’s End

MAJOR spoilers for the end of the campaign.

Avi didn't want to believe that Johann is gone, but there's no changing any of that. He isn't going to let anyone forget who he was, even if he can hardly keep himself from taking his own life. - Avi struggles after Johann's death and gets some much needed support from his dear friends, one of whom understands the pain he's going through.

Read on A03

Word count: 1,636

I know it’s a little rushed and a it rough around the edges but I had a time writing this lol. It took me longer than usual cause I just kept crying.

@ griffin mcelroy turn on your location I wanna talk about what happened to Johann, I just wanna talk

A smile drew itself across Avi’s face, white light blinding him for a moment as it washed over the whole of the world. His arm was up over his eyes, wind whipping through his hair as divinity spread across the world. And then, roars of cheering. He rubbed his eyes and looked out over the edge of the moonbase, at the light that returned to the world and the ash being whipped up in the wind like sand. It was done, it was over and they had won.

The first thing he did was hug Magnus. “We did it, you did it! Johann was right! Oh, oh man I have to go kiss him!” He saw the look on Magnus’s face drop.

“You, oh, oh no, Avi. . .”

In the year he had known Magnus, he had never seen him look like this, and that struck fear into his entire being and he stepped back. “What? Where’s Johann?” Magnus turned his eyes away. “Magnus!” He demanded, pulling on his shirt. “Where’s Johann?!”

The ride to the chamber was silent. Avi was stubborn in his denial, and despite telling Magnus to stay he came anyways. As the doors dinged open, he felt a pit drop in his stomach, and a lump form in his throat. His heart felt heavy as water splashed on his boots as he made his way into the chamber. Broken glass, wet ash, and then there, laying in front of his desk face down in the pool of water, was Johann. He sprinted over and dropped to his knees, water and a small amount of blood soaking into his pants as he turned Johann’s body back onto his back. His hands balled up into fists as tears streaked down his face. He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, and he screamed. The pained, and heartbroken sound echoed throughout Fisher’s chamber, and it collapsed into a sob as Avi held Johann’s chilled body. Fingers tangled in his wet hair, holding his head close to his heart as another pained scream left his body. He was cursing any god that listened, and every being that took Johann from this world. His screams were soon replaced by the sounds of two people mourning, one more deeply than the other.

It would take months for Avi to recover. He hadn’t even shown up at Johann’s funeral, but every day after that he could be seen standing or sitting by his grave. His fingertips lingered on the headstone, caressing his name engraved into stone. His eyes traveled across the beautifully inscribed epitaph, “Never to be forgotten”. And he was going to make damn sure of that. He worked tirelessly to make sure the world knew exactly who Johann was. He wrote about him very often.

Johann was kind. He had the kind of smile that made your day better, and the kind of frown that made you want to hold him tighter. He forgot to eat most days because he would get caught up in his work, and I frequently had to bring him food. He was always tired because he would stay up so late, and there were many nights I would carry him back to his dorm room. Johann had the most brilliantly green eyes I’ve ever seen, and I would get lost in them each time I looked at him. Johann loved sitting on a hill under a tree watching the clouds and the stars roll by. Johann prefered sleeping in, and was never a morning person unless “morning” was somewhere around 12 pm. He loved coffee with a little milk and around a teaspoon of sugar, I could never make it right. Johann was a half elf, but he could still move his ears like most elves can. Anytime someone complimented his works his ears would turn up, as they were usually drooping a bit. He would also get a sparkle in his eyes, and it would stay there for hours after the fact. But he was always so hard on himself, he was always striving to do better without realising he was already the best anyone ever could be. Johann’s greatest fear was being forgotten, and I swear I will never let his name be lost in history. His name is Johann.

Avi set his quill back into the ink well, and walked over to his bed. He was holding Johann’s hat tightly between his hands, and close to his chest. He could only ever write so much at once before becoming overwhelmed by his own emotions. He took another piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it on his nightstand. He had been holding onto it for quite some time, waiting until the moment felt right. Was it time this time? It would be a little awkward perhaps, but the emptiness in his heart was starting to spread. It pained him, thinking he could have, he should have, done something. He should have walked with Johann that day, he should have been with him, he should have been there to save him.

Leaving the hat behind on the bed, Avi stood slowly, hands gripping a strand of rope tightly in his hands. He stood in the center of his room for a few long minutes as tears rolled off his cheeks and onto the floor. He heard banging on his door, and then it opened. He fell onto his knees as Magnus dropped to his side and tore the rope out of his hands, chucking it across the room.

“Avi!” He started as the man broke down in awful pained sobs. “Avi, look at me.” Magnus said as he turned Avi’s face up. “You’re stronger than that. Johann wouldn’t want-”

“How do you know what Johann would want?!” He snapped, cutting him off and pushing himself away from the larger human as two familiar figures loomed in his doorway. “None of you knew Johann like I did! None of you know what Johann would have wanted!!”

Merle was the first of the two to notice the rope that sit by their feet, and he picked it up in his hands. Flowers began sprouting from it where he had touched it with his soulwood arm, and he cast it aside just as Magnus had seconds earlier. Taako strode over, a shimmering purple cape fluttered behind him an he kneeled down on the floor with Magnus.

“Well then whatever with what Johann would have wanted you to do!” He crossed his arms, and Avi looked up at him. “We want you to stay here. We want you to be strong, and to live the best life you can.”

Magnus turned his eyes from Taako back to Avi. “He’s right. Look, I understand what you’re going through and I-”

“How can you understand? How do you know?” Avi curled in on himself, his body shaking.

“I lost my wife.” Avi looked up when he heard this, seeing Taako and Merle both looking away from Magnus as he spoke. “She was murdered, and I can’t remember who took her from me and that’s awful. Every day since she’s passed I’ve wanted to hunt down whoever took her from me and kill them with my bare hands. And every day since she’s passed, I’ve had the thought that I should take myself away, to be with her in the astral plane. But I look deeper inside and I know Julia would never want me to harm myself, because if I took myself away I’d be taking myself away from even more people that care about me. People like Merle and Taako, and Carey, and Killian, and Lucretia, and Davenport, and Lup, and Barry, and Angus, and, well, and everyone.” Avi pulled himself back onto his bed, taking Johann’s hat once more in his hands, not watching as Magnus and Taako both rose to their feet. “I made you something, that I hope can remind you of that.” A small picture frame was placed on Avi’s lap, and he took it gingerly in his hands. The frame was rosewood, and was beautifully crafted, the glass panel was perfectly clear with no damage or smudges to the surface, and the picture it held inside was one that shook him to his core. He had never seen this picture of Johann before. Johann was, smiling. He had his violin in one hand, and was making a peace sign with the other that had his Bureau of Balance bracer on it. He looked so happy. So happy and so, alive. He pressed the framed picture close to his chest, and Magnus retrieved something from his own pocket. “I made one a long time ago.” He turned the frame so Avi could see the picture of a woman with frizzy dark hair smiling back at the camera. “So that whenever I thought about taking myself out of this world, I would have her near me to remind me that there are things in this world worth living for. And to be honest, you have a lot going here.” Magnus was referencing the sheet of paper with ink still slightly wet. “It’s going to take a long time to recover, buddy. But let him remind you that there are better things coming. In fact, I have one for you now.” Magnus whistled, and a dog with a yellowish white coat walked into the room, and immediately put her head in Avi’s lap.

“Her name is Soprano.” Taako told him as he leaned on his new staff.

“She’s for you.” Merle chimed in.

“I knew you needed help, and sometimes people can’t always be there for you.”

Avi hugged the labrador, tightly, and she placed a paw on his back.

“Lucretia agreed that one dog is allowed on the moon from now on.”

#johavi #the adventure zone #taz balance #taz johann #taz avi

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chivalin · 6 years

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Fic Writer Tag Meme

Wasn’t tagged by anyone but this piqued my interest when I saw @gerdavonrinnlingen do it and since this was short enough, I thought why not :D (edit: wow, this turned into a small sob story in the end lol)

Tagging (if you have already been tagged, sorry! I don’t pay attention to stuff lol): @lordviridis, @sassheliosazuras, @fer8girl, @kunoichi-ume, @chocolatefortheneurotic, @nerf-burger, @cinlat

What is your total word count on AO3?

109 062 words (75 fics). I started writing them around the end of last year’s October, so not bad at all if I do say so myself lmao (especially since this is missing all the domestic fluff prompts that would add like 10k).

How often do you write?

Is just “often” an acceptable answer? I don’t really have a schedule but if I don’t do any writing for a week, something is seriously wrong lol. If I really get the writing juices going on, I can easily clock a few thousand words a day, though it usually tends to fluctuate a lot depending on what I’m working on.

Do you have a routine for writing?

I have water and music (usually variations of rock) ready and then I just start writing (if I’m editing, there’s no music since it tends to distract me). With fics I usually just write them on one sitting since they’re so short but with anything longer, I tend to write for 25 minutes non-stop and then do a 5-10 min break. Very effective, especially if I’m aiming to write 6-10k in a single day.

What are your favourite kinks/tropes/pairing?

Kinks:

dom/sub & femdom: I practically live and breathe this stuff lmao. The dynamics of having someone be in control and someone else submitting is absolutely thrilling.

Tropes:

alpha/omega: I think this could be compared to junk food. It’s absolutely sinful and so good but having too much of it becomes overwhelming which is why I haven’t written it that much. I absolutely love its dynamics though (that are, surprise surprise, similar to the above).

Pairing:

Natjana/Quinn: Femdom for the win lmao. But more seriously, even though I love the dynamics, I also love the chemistry so much. They’re the couple who will always love and cherish each other, no matter what happens.

Inibri/Harkun: This has some similarities with above (like the dom/sub aspect duh) but it’s definitely darker. Neither of these characters could really be considered nice or even likable but here they are, together and completely wrecking me.

Do you have a favourite fic of yours?

Nothing specific pops into mind at the moment, though I have a special soft spot for all the smut I have written ;).

Your fic with the most kudos?

The Hux/Reader smut, To Have A Little Fun, though considering that fandom is quite a bit larger than swtor, it’s not a surprise lol. If I leave that out, then it’s Showing His Desire For You (smutty Marr/Reader).

…I’m not sure if the universe is trying to tell me that I’m good with smut or if people are just thirsty as fuck for it lmao.

Anything you don’t like about your writing?

Eeeh, I’m mostly happy with my writing. Sometimes I wished I had the patience to edit some pieces more but at the end of the day, I’m just happy to move onto the next one. Oh, I also sometimes hope that I would write longer fics but then I remember that’s not worth the effort lol (kudos to those who write longer fics though, I respect the shit out of you).

Now something you do like?

I enjoy my smut a lot, even though I never imagined I would consider myself a smut writer some day when I started writing. But here I am now, so goddamn proud to make yall hot and bothered lmao.

I also like the style I’m writing in and how much I have improved. English is not my first language and I used to be not comfortable in writing anything longer with it, but now my opinion has changed. Yeah, I still make mistakes, especially since my editing is usually quick when it comes to fics, but I’m glad to say that I’m actually confident in my writing now.

Saying that makes me strangely emotional because fucking hell. I have loved writing all my life but now I have actual, proper confidence in it with knowledge to back me up too. I fucking love my writing. I love the fact that I can form words into interesting sentences and make scenes and characters feel alive.

…I also love myself for having the patience to stick with writing through all these years. I’m so grateful to writing too because it has kept me alive and always made me feel better no matter how horrible I have felt. I love that it has allowed me to meet and get to know utterly wonderful and absolutely amazing people.

Wow. I’m crying now, even though I just meant to do an interesting little fic writer meme. I would apologize for rambling but I’m not going to because writing is very fucking important to me, if you haven’t happened to notice, haha.

#I feel like I should have a tag for whenever I lose it over writing lmao #long post #lordviridis #sassheliosazuras #fer8girl #kunoichi-ume #chocolatefortheneurotic #nerf-burger #cinlat #chivrambles

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frustrated-writer-skyeknight · 3 years

Text

My OCs I'm still struggling to rewrite in my original story.

Here’s the plot so far and in a hiatus lol

🔥

“Thank you for your patronage!” Kyl beams, accepting a payment. “please come again.”

The woman smiles back in response, giving her own thanks before leaving the bakery. As soon as she steps out the shop, the boy sighs in relief, thankful that the last customer he had to deal with today was a mild elderly.

Kyl lets his smile fall with a heavy sigh, massaging his jaw with a hand. He huffs, running a hand through his hair, still peeved about a particularly irksome situation from the morning. He does what he can to give courteous and fair treatment to all customers, but that didn't make it any less aggravating to be polite to the brutes who intentionally made his job difficult, just to mess with him, for spending most of his time inside the bakery.

He knew he was different from most boys his age. Even his friends back home has ambitions of becoming knights or mercenaries in guilds, any job that meant action and adventure. Some of them don’t necessarily have a goal, but are still keen on mastering a weapon of sorts to be able to see the world as a wandering explorer.

As for Kyl, it wasn't that he found it completely satisfying to be a baker, and while he does see the appeal of the excitement that comes with the lifestyle aspired by his friends, compared to his own repetitive routine as a baker, he considers the peace it brings comforting enough. Kyl figured that if he was going to settle with being a baker for the rest of his life, he might as well learn how to deal with a wider range of customers.

Right now, he was assisting his uncle Teodor in his branch.

Teodor was like any typical Hearth family man. He was devoted to his craft, which only came second to his family. Even if it means being short on help, he wouldn’t let his wife, Myrah, lift a finger when she wasn’t in the best condition to do so. He did his best to replicate Myrah’s special recipes for some of their regular customers, but he wasn’t having much luck. The next person who could come close to baking them was his youngest nephew, Kyl. That was why he was here.

Kyl has a lot of relatives and they handle their own branch in their respective hometowns. Although not famous to get nationwide recognition, each was doing well. This was the first time that he was away from home for a long period. Because of a recent brawl which resulted in Myrah’s bad back, they were short staffed. Even though they were just three, they got by well enough. And it wasn't like there were never instances in the past that only two of the three would be the ones working the shop. It was especially the case back when Dru was a young toddler and prone to fever every now and then. Teodor had his fair share of moments when his blood pressure was too high and he needed rest to relieve his stress. But that never took a while, and they'd recover in a few days. This was the first time there needed to be a full month of resting for recovery, and neither Teodor nor his son could compete with Myrah in baking particular products even if they follow her recipe. But somehow, Kyl can come close.

Asides from lending a helping hand, Kyl was curious to find out the different challenges his relatives here faced, since they reside in a larger town. In a way, it was a welcomed change of pace from his dull routine back home. Since his hometown seemed more like a small, remote village than anything else, with a grand total of twenty houses, everyone was a regular customer, and it seemed like they had a fixed time when it came to making a purchase. But Kyl could also see the downside working where business had to be fast-paced in some parts of the day.

On his first day working with them, Kyl was overwhelmed by the number of customers alone and how fast they expected him to serve them. The orders and deliveries almost made him break down. If it wasn't for his cousin, it might have actually happen.

Dru was older than Kyl, and to an extent, taller. His height wasn’t the only thing big about him. Because of the sacks of flour he regularly carried to and from the storage, plus the dough kneading he does daily gave him well-developed biceps and he maintained an admirable muscle tone. That, with his dark, brown hair, and warm chocolate eyes, reels in the young ladies into their shop, sometimes mostly to gaze upon him than to buy bread. With his gangly physique and awkwardly tousled light brown locks, Kyl was envious and can only hope to grow into the same built. His only noteworthy quality in terms of appearance were his green eyes.

Kyl wonders if body size affected temper because his dad had a similar large build, and they both tended to be a bit of a hot-head at certain times. Kyl figured it could also be due to because life in a bigger town being more stressful in comparison to remote villages like his own. His dad said that he used to live in a bigger town in his youth, and he had violent tendencies back then. His cousin wasn’t necessarily violent though, and was nice enough when it mattered. For instance, even when he made a show of how it peeved him to have to pick up after him, Dru made sure Kyl got some learning experience out of it and guided him through it so he could do better the next time around.

He had claimed, “I don't want to keep doing your workload for you, brat, so get it right next time.”

But Kyl realized that his cousin guided him during his entire time with them, at least more than Teodor even when he was present to take over anytime if Dru really didn't want to. Just like this morning with those troublesome guys. While he was given an idea what to expect from difficult customers they usually encountered, he didn’t think handling patrons like those guys would be as irksome as it had been. He almost snapped back at them before Dru showed up and took care of it himself.

His cousin didn't even go about lecturing him about proper work etiquette afterwards, didn't push the point about treating customers nicely at all times like Kyl expected him to.

“People can be jerks without being aware of it,” Dru had said, ruffling Kyl's hair. “don't let them win by showing them how affected you are.”

In the end, Kyl found that he enjoyed the experience in spite of the hardships and difficulties. Plus, he enjoyed spending time with these particular relatives again since the last time had only been a three day visit when he was a toddler. He was almost sorry that he would be returning to the repetitive routine of his small village life soon. But at the very least he would be comforted by how peaceful it was compared to all this.

“Good work today, boys.”

Teodor comes out of the kitchen with Dru, each carrying two small baskets of bread. One basket seemed to have more bread than the other. But while they differ in quantity, their contents remained similar. Both contained , flat leaven manchets, rounder oatcakes known as clapbread made by Dru who can bake them best with a little spicy flare to it, the usual staple white cockets and powdered biscuits, Kyl version, because it didn't exactly capture the taste Myrah manages and only came close. Still, the youngest Hearth felt accomplished that it still sold well, even if it wasn't sold out the way Myrah's batch would've been.

I'm still not done preparing the batch for the local orphanage, but I can take care of it myself. You two handle the priorities for today.”

At the end of each day, the Hearth family always make it a point to give out their leftovers to the less fortunate. It was what Kyl's great grandfather always believed in, that kindness and acts of it goes a long way.

Kindness is the most hopeful provocation, He used to say.

Teodor hands them two sheets of paper. One sheet had a family name written down along with the name of their members plus an address. Then as Kyl looks over his cousin's shoulder, he noticed that the other piece of paper was a slip more than a sheet. It wasn't constructed the same way the other was either. There was only a single word written.

Kean.

There were only two reasons why a person would not have a last name. Either he was a grown orphan, or beings called a Mana user. Humanesque creatures with a questionable place in society. Kyl has never met one before, but from what he can gather by the gossips heard at the town square and the opinions of his family was that they do not contribute much to society, but at the same time, they did not require anything from it either. They seemed to exist for the sake of existence itself. However, since society cannot get anything from them some people find it meaningless for them to exist at all. Until much recently, a law regarding no tolerance for discriminatory acts did not extend to Mana users. Closer study implies that most riots arise due to the instigators’ acts of reproach towards the mentioned Mana users. Therefore, for the sake of holding the peace, a proposal to revise this law was underway.

By this provocation, the instigators are making the most of the time left that they can mistreat the Mana users without consequences.

“Kean...” Kyl mutters, finding that the name was familiar. He mentioned his musings, ‘did he come to the shop recently?’ he wonders. “Did I write a receipt for him, or...”

Dru makes a look. “Yes, because Mana users carry money despite not having jobs.”

“Do they?”

Dru gapes, checking if Kyl wasn't just pulling his leg. He forgot that growing up in a small village had the tendency to make people ignorant of common knowledge in larger areas. Plus, this was Kyl. While he didn't live in the province and just at a small village he could be pegged for a country bumpkin with his level of ignorance.

Teodor smacks his son upside on the head in reprove. “Druant, be nice to your cousin.” he scolds, and Dru realizes he said that out loud by the way Kyl is glaring at him. “Anyway, the answer is no. They don't. It's unlikely because Mana users don't seem to need the same bare necessities that we do. That being said, they don't require money. And the name should be familiar because I mentioned him to you once when we talked about your aunt's case.”

“Oh yeah,” Kyl says. “You said there was a fight. Was this Kean guy involved?”

Teodor nods, “You could say that. While your aunt was the unintended victim, Kean was the targeted one.”

“Except mom seemed have gotten the worse of it.” Dru scoffs.

Theodore frowns at his son. “We don't know that for sure. The fighting stopped when they realized they’ve injured someone else as well.” He says. “We haven’t seen Kean after so we don't know how he came out of it. That’s why he's a priority tonight. It occurred to Myrah and she wants to have it checked out.”

“If we find him,” Dru quips. “Come on, Kyl. Let's get going.”

Teodor calls out after them, “Don’t stay out too long,” he says, “the last thing I need is to tell Myrah you guys were found dead on the streets chewed on by some wild animal.”

“Wait, what?” Kyl blinks, turning back. “what wild animal?”

Teodor laughs, and Kyl figured he was teasing him. He scowls while Dru snickers, “How simple.”

🔥

Once they were outside, Dru opens his mouth and tries to say something. But figuring out what it was, Kyl beats him to it.

“Yeah, I can take Kean’s basket.” He says.

“I, uh…” Dru blinks, his mouth moving wordlessly before he simply nods. “Yeah… okay, thanks.” He gives Kyl the basket with the lesser bread.

Kyl pauses, as if in thought, before speaking once more. “You don't happen to agree with those who beat up this Kean guy, do you?”

“H-huh? Oh…” Dru mutters, worrying his lower lip. “Um, well, of course I don't like it that they started that whole fight because of it. I mean, mom got hurt and…”

Kyl narrows his eyes, “You know that wasn't the question.” He says. “Do you hate their kind, too?”

Since he hasn't really encountered one yet himself, Kyl doesn’t have any real sentiments towards Mana users. However, if they weren’t actually hurting anyone he didn't see how it was justifiable to hurt them or anyone, generally speaking, just because they weren't actively involved in society. He can understand getting annoyed, but anger was a little extreme for him.

“I…” Dru starts before sighing, “look kid, don't get me wrong. I don't hate Mana users, if that's what you mean. At least… I don't think I do. But if you've seen one up close, with the blank look in their eyes as if they weren't even alive… I don't know. It's creepy.”

“I see. But you know, it's okay to be scared. Pretty sure even Knights get like that, I'd be surprised if they didn't.” Kyl says. “I don't think you’d be disqualified just for that.”

“Huh?” Dru's eyes widens. “what are you—”

Kyl rolls his eyes, “Dru, I'm not as simple as you think. I've seen you training late at night when you're supposed to be sleeping like the rest of us. And the bulletin board at the square mentioned needs for recruits.” He says. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure things out.”

“Kyl, you can’t tell dad or mom about this, you hear?”

Kyl frowns. “If I wanted to be a rat, I would’ve mentioned it the first time I saw you training after taking a piss. You really could’ve picked a better, more hidden place to do that if you didn’t wanna be caught, by the way.” He says. “but they’re gonna find out what you're up to anyway, especially once you sign up. And sure, maybe he'll be a bit sad that you're not interested in baking full-time, but I don't think uncle would forbid you if that’s what you really want.”

“Yeah. If. That’s the key word.” Dru sighs, shaking his head. “I’m not really sure what I want either. But I do know there’s more I want to do than be a baker for the rest of my life. I mean, maybe I wouldn’t mind retiring as one. But that’s definitely not all I want to do. You live in a small village, maybe you’re happy with how simple that is. But come on, you can’t tell me that you never thought about it.”

Kyl shifts his weight absently, not sure what to say. “We better get going, don’t you think?” He didn’t wait for a response, already turning and walking off.

Forgetting about one minor detail.

🔥

Kyl groans, berating himself. He forgot that he had no idea where to even look for this Kean fellow. These were the moments that Dru could be justified for calling him simple. Even having a vague description of this guy might’ve been helpful, seeing as those he was asking didn’t care much to give him any useful leads. All he got so far for his efforts were either questioning looks or scorn. He gave up asking when he got the latter, and settled for just winging it. Stopping once more to rest, he leans against a wall of some random home. He’s pretty sure he searched the entire town, at one point he even got lost because some of the houses look the same: two-storey, beige cedars with mahogany doors and red roofs. He had to back track towards the main square to get his bearings.

At the moment, all he can assume was that this guy was homeless with the lack of address, maybe even a hermit if he was the only Mana user in town—or out of town, if that were the case. Kyl definitely wouldn’t want to stay in a place where he was treated poorly. Earlier, somebody did suggest that he ask the last people to have an encounter with him, but the boy had suspicions that they were the cause for his aunt Myrah's condition in the first place and also made her concerned for the guy’s well-being and he definitely didn’t want to have a run in with those types himself.

Therefore, he settled for walking all over town and hoping he gets lucky.

The sun was setting and each step Kyl took was getting heavier. He wasn’t any closer to finding his priority assignment than he was hours ago and it was already passed supper. Certainly, he could’ve just taken some of the bread from the leftover basket but since it wasn’t meant for him, all the more for someone less fortunate than him, it didn’t seem right to Kyl to do that even if he was feeling rather unlucky at that moment. Yet he was exhausted. Still, he didn’t want the bread to go to waste but he wasn’t going to consume them himself. He figured he probably had time to search for someone else before it got too dark.

Just when he turns to the next corner, he finds himself falling forward. Kyl yelps as the contents of the basket were sent flying. The boy groans, pushing back brown fringes from his eyes. He huffed, brushing his hair back.

“Ow…” He winces, getting up slowly. He’s pretty certain he had a scratch or two. ‘I should really watch where I’m going.’ He thought. He gets back on his feet and pats what dirt he can from his trousers. ‘what did I even trip on? It felt thick…’ he muses. He scans the area and a scream catches on his throat. “AH!” Kyl breaks into a cold sweat under a second, and he was legs suddenly felt boneless. Nevertheless, he was about to make a run for it when his conscience caught up with him.

It was a dead body.

As much as he was tempted to do so, he couldn’t just leave it there. Slowly, he approaches the body, making sure there were actually no wild animal that, in hindsight, his uncle might not have been completely joking about. As he got nearer, he realizes that it wasn’t a corpse. At least, the body still felt warm. It was easy to think the person was dead, though. The guy, as it seems to be, was completely motionless that even his chest seemed like it wasn’t moving. The indication that he was, in fact, still among the living was the low moans that escaped his mouth.

Kyl sighs, running a hand through his hair. ‘Well, he’s alive. Now what?’

He couldn’t very well leave this person lying here. He could take him to the nearest clinic but that was right across from the East side square, which was on the other side of town. He considers taking him back with him. His aunt was almost fully recovered so he wonders if his uncle would appreciate another patient to care for.

‘Well… as dad always say, "you’re not a Hearth if you’ve got no heart…."’

Decided, Kyl hefts the guy up, slinging his arm carefully over his shoulder, and wraps his own arm around the stranger’s waist. There was a sound of thunder and the skies grew darker by the time he saw the roof of the bakery.

🔥

Despite their collective surprise, and forgetting their worry on why he was late, they didn’t make much of a fuss when Kyl brought in the guy he found. Teodor didn’t mind caring for another infirm but he was a bit upset about the bread but he eventually got over it.

“Can’t do anything about it anymore, after all.” He says.

Dru was fine with it as long as he didn’t have to share his bed with the guy. Kyl figures it was only fair and he wasn’t oppose to sharing. The guest room wasn’t his own room, after all. After that matter was settled, Kyl went to take a bath and have something quick to eat since it was late and he didn’t want to sleep on a full stomach. Myrah was finished giving the stranger a sponge bath by the time Kyl returned to his borrowed room.

“Hasn’t he woken up yet?”

Myrah shakes her head, “No, but I've taken care of his injuries. No broken bones, which is a relief. He’ll be fine after some rest.”

Kyl smiles. “That’s good to hear,” he sighs. “I’m just glad it wasn’t a dead body mangled by some random wild animal.”

“Your uncle said something again?”

Kyl blinks, “Again?” he repeats. Myrah just chuckles in response and the boy decides to drop it. “Anyway, I’m sorry to have bothered you with this while you’ve just recovered, auntie.”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” Myrah says with a careless wave of her hand, “my back doesn’t even hurt anymore, and I couldn’t leave this to your uncle or Dru. Those two are hopeless when it comes to tender care.” She rolls her eyes.

Kyl smiles slightly, “Is that why you keep calling me specifically for those massages?”

“Bingo.” Myrah winks, “You know, it’s a bit funny that I had your uncle make sure you get Kean some bread and you ended up bring him home without the bread.”

Kyl cringes, thinking that his family really valued their bread. Then, he starts. “That’s Kean?!”

“Oh goodness, you didn’t know?”

Kyl shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah… not at all.”

“Didn’t the hair tip you off? I mean, it’s blue.”

Although there was no explanation, at least none publicly known, all Mana users seemed to have unnatural hair color. In the back of his mind, Kyl did question it once he returned. But since it was dark out earlier, he didn’t notice it at first. He thought the guy had black hair, because the hue was of a darker shade, almost like cobalt. Still, that was the notable difference. When it came to physique, they were similar except Kyl may be more well-toned in comparison, as a result to hours baking.

“I’ll remember that next time.”

“Nnh…”

Kyl and Myrah turns toward the bed. “Oh, he’s waking up.”

Eyes opens slowly, and Kyl understands now what Dru meant earlier. Their eyes really did have an eerie feeling to it, but for some reasons, this made the boy intrigued rather than scared.

“Where am I?”

🔥

Kean’s bleary eyes finds two individuals standing before him, and he recognizes the woman. She had been there when those townsfolk attacked him, but he has never seen the boy before.

“Miss Myrah, hello.” He sits up.

Myrah smiles, walking over to comb his hair back. Kean just continues staring, even while she examines some remnants of wounds that, he notices, were treated. He figures that those needed more time to heal. She didn’t seem to mind Kean’s lack of concern with that way she pokes around his injuries, already expecting the stoic response. Most Mana users, if not all, seemed to possess the quality.

“It’s good to see you awake, Kean. I wondered what happened to you after our last meeting.”

Kean’s expression remained blank. “I am sorry to have caused you worry.” He says with a curt tip of his head. “May I ask how I was brought here though?”

“Ah, that would be my doing, mate.” Kyl answers, “I found you passed out and decided to bring you home.” He grins. “Perfect timing, too. Just before you got caught by the rain and end up sick with the cold.”

Kean replies, “Oh, Mana users do not get sick the way humans do. So it did not really make a difference,” he says. “you could say it was pointless.”

Kyl stares at the Mana user, not having a response for that take on his act of kindness. Myrah watches her nephew, trying not to smile. She may have an idea what was going through his mind.

“Thank you, anyway.”

“Um, wow. Okay,” The boy feels like he should be irritated or something akin to that. However, he found himself just wondering what was the matter with the guy. “Can you say it like you mean it, at least? I mean, with more... conviction.”

Kean’s tone remained as is when he responds. “Oh, okay. I am truly grateful for the unnecessary aid to my predicament even while I was unaware of the needless attempt.”

“Er,” Somehow, Kyle felt even worse than he was with Kean’s first response. “‘Truly grateful’ is not shown on your face at all…” his shoulders sags.

Myrah couldn’t help it this time. She laughs.

🔥

The following day was definitely an interesting one.

During breakfast, Kean was refusing a big portion of the meal Teodor was insisting on him because the man found Kean simply too thin for a boy his age. The Mana user reminded him that they don’t age the way humans do. In addition to that, they did not require an intake of nutrients gained from food consumption since, according to him, 'Simple meditation to be one with nature' was sufficient to keep them going. Both Kyl and Dru shared the same expression; their eyebrows were furrowed, and they had creases on their forehead, staring at Kean first then at each other as if trying to make sense of that explanation. Nevertheless, Teodor still made Kean eat with the notion, 'As long as you can eat, eat. We get food from nature, too.'

Kean had no argument for that.

Afterwards, when Myrah found the poor condition Kean’s clothes were in she had him try on some of Dru’s old clothes. The one closest to his size and proportions was still slightly big on him so she had it adjusted. After putting it off long enough, they finally opened shop an hour later than usual. Teodor said it wasn’t really a problem since the month was almost up and they already made their quota. Kean offered his help since they did delay on his behalf.

That’s when things turned eventful.

Kyl knew that Mana users had strange abilities, but like most things about them, he never really understood exactly how strange. While he didn’t have to mention it out loud, Dru wasn’t wrong in his thinking that living in a small, almost secluded village tended to result in a certain degree of ignorance. Kyl’s first time witnessing these abilities happened by watching Kean all throughout the day.

First, it was with the wooden stove they used for baking. Since it rained last night and they forgot to cover their firewood, Dru and Kyl had a difficult time getting a fire going. Kean decided to lend a hand and ended up overdoing it. Dru and Kyl did stand a little too close, curious to see what Kean would do. He burned the wood a little more than what was necessary, and the fire quickly rose. It consumed the stack of wood and due to the water, the crackling of wood also came with bursts of ashes. Fortunately, no one was hurt and Dru managed to close the steel door to tame the flame before it could escalate. Because of that though, he ended up covered in ash himself. Kyl couldn’t help but laugh even while he was a mess himself, since it wasn’t compared to Dru who almost resembled some kind of gigantic charcoal. The older Hearth didn’t know whether to be more upset with Kean or Kyl. But since the Mana user was giving his apologies, no matter how bland the tone, while his cousin was just laughing his head off he decided that Kyl would be doing most of the dough kneading for the day.

After the initial rush hour, they took a break. While Kean and Kyl were passing by the foyer when they saw Myrah frowning and nagging Teodor over some Orientalis out the back door. Apparently, the flower patches were all wilting because, according to her, Teodor didn’t water them as constantly as he was supposed to. Seeing her distress, Kean steps forward and, with a wave of his hand, he revived the dead flowers, regaining their pinkish vibrancy along with a translucent glow, as if they were freshly bloomed. Myrah widened her eyes before running towards Kean to embrace him in gratitude. Teodor sighed in relief, mouthing his own thanks.

The next event transpired shortly after Teodor declared that they no longer have to bake more bread to replenish their stocks for the day. Kyl and Kean was given the task of organizing the kitchen and take inventory of the remaining ingredients while Dru helped his father in the shop. The ladder was misplaced when the boys went into storage so Kyl had no way of checking the top shelves. Before Kyl could ask Kean to look for it while he double checks the lower shelves to make sure their listings were accurate, the Mana user brought his palms together and blew on them. Kyl eyed him questioningly before he felt light all of the sudden and the next thing he knew, he was floating weightlessly off the ground and higher into the air. Kyl freaked out when his hands reached the ceiling and forgot all about taking inventory; when Dru went to check what the noise was about, he almost had a heart attack. With his attention diverted because of that, Kean ended up dropping Kyl on his cousin.

Finally, Kean and Kyl were sent out to give the day’s leftovers to the chosen priorities. As a precaution, Myrah gave Kean a cloak to wear so those fellows who beat him up before wouldn’t be able to recognize him. Just when they were on their way home, it started to rain once more. Kyl managed to find a tree to stay under, and while they were still being rained on, it wasn’t as bad as when they were out in the open. He suggested waiting it out but then, he saw Kean out there and on the spot he stood, the rain seemed to go around it. He beckoned for him to step out, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he stepped out. The hand outstretched towards Kyl glowed and now, the rain avoided Kyle as well. With that, they made their way back.

However, Kyl was certain that the cloak didn’t serve it’s purpose of concealment after that stunt.

🔥

Kean and Kyl were resting up when they got home, just waiting for supper to be ready. Kyl decided he would work on his swordsmanship since he was returning home tomorrow.

Arriving was simple, since he had a special transportation to get him there directly. At home, despite not having much to brag about, they did have farms that specialized in breeding Aero Aves, large birds that have a gentle nature and have impressive homing instincts. Licensed agencies train these birds to carry passengers along with their packed belongings to long or short distances. But at the time, they only had money for Kyl to take a one-way trip service. There were additional fees if the traveler wanted to have the Aero Aves to come back for a return service. Furthermore, since he was journeying home on his own this time around, he would have to leave town. In spite of it’s large size, the town didn’t have its own port. Therefore, he would have to travel on foot first to the nearest town his uncle said had one so there was a chance Kyl would be running into some trouble.

Myrah wanted to request for an adventurer escort from the local guild, but Kyl refused. For one moment in this trip away from home, he wanted the accomplishment of doing something independently. Still, he did hope that the road to the next town didn’t have wild animals or, worse, strong monsters. He knew that monsters do not normally attack humans unless provoked. As long as he kept to the main road, he would be okay. However, he also needed to consider robbers. Although, in between baking and deliveries, he couldn’t find time nor energy to train regularly so he hoped he wouldn’t be having any of those encounters at all.

“Kyl, are you heading outside?” Kean speaks up just as Kyl was half way out the door, “has the rain stopped?”

“I think so,” Kyl replies, “I just wanna train a bit to prepare for traveling tomorrow. But auntie would kill me if I use my sword inside.”

Kean tilts his head to the side, “I do not believe miss Myrah is capable of such atrocious acts, such is not compatible to her kind nature.” He says flatly.

“Atro…” Kyl frowns, brows creasing before shaking his head. “No, uh, I mean… well, it’s cramped up in here as it is. I’m gonna need more space to move around better.”

Kean nods in understanding, “I see. An open area is optimal for such actions. I’ll accompany you since, yes, I agree. It is cramped inside.”

“Uh... huh?” Kyl was lost for a moment, giving the Mana user time to walk pass him and towards the back exit of the house. “Well, okay then.” He shakes his head before following Kean out.

When they got to the back of the house, just a few feet away from the storage. Kyl starts by working on his stance and repeating basic movements to warm up. After which, he tries to envision possible scenarios, recalling the common wolves that would attack travelers and thinking of the tips his dad gave him on how to handle such an encounter. When he was satisfied enough, he went on to wielding his sword and hitting his imaginary enemy with the blunt side. If he ever did encounter robbers, he didn’t feel good about killing them. He did not believe it was his place to decide who should die. He keeps this up until he his attention was finally drawn by Kean, settled on top of a water barrel. By his still position, Kyl could guess that this was him in meditation, the breathing seemed to follow a rhythm as well. That was when he recalls the conversation from breakfast.

“Is that really filling for you?”

Kean pauses, mid-exhale. He slowly blinks his eyes open, finding where Kyl stood.

‘Er, maybe I shouldn’t have interrupted?’ Kyl winces, rubbing the back of his head. ‘It is meditation, after all…’

If Kean was perturbed by being broken out of his concentration, it didn’t show. “For something to be filling,” he starts. “there must be a containment variable. I am not a container.”

The boy finds that he was getting used to the way Kean spoke, “No, I mean…” he pauses to think, “does it make you… well… not hungry?”

“Mana users do not really experience hunger.” Kean replies, “For humans, food is necessity for the recuperation of energy and nourishment along with water. Internally, my body does not require those intake. However, similar to you, I do require hydration as do all living things in nature. What I am doing now is sufficient in terms of sustenance, if in any circumstances I neglect my meditation practice I would feel sluggish till I am able to do so again.”

Kyl frowns, scratching the lower part of his chin. 'Isn't that similar to hunger in essence?' he wonders, “But then, you're still able to eat food, so...”

“That's because, as sir Teodor stated, food came from nature after certain alterations so I am able to consume them, similar to how I can consume water the way you do. In addition, our anatomy are similar except we do not possess cells and the like.”

“You really need to use small words, Kean.” Kyl sighs, suddenly losing energy to train. “It's hard to keep up with you. How are Mana users different from humans when we look the same?”

Kean pauses, as if in thought, before responding. “You know what Mana is, right?”

“Uh,” Kyl thinks about it, “it's like magic, right?” he says, sheathing his sword.

Kean shakes his head, “No. Mana is considered the power of the elemental forces in nature. Fire, water, wind, and Earth. It is easily understood that Mana users are able to manipulate this power. But what is not known by most humans is that Mana users are Mana themselves.”

“Huh?! You're Mana?”

Kean nods, “Humans possess a certain type of acid that connects them to their roots. Consequently, as we do not possess the same substance, the concept of family does not exist in our kind.” he explains.

“No family?” Kyl frowns, “Then how were you born?”

“I was not born, as such would require a mother and father role. I was formed.” Kean corrects, “Mana users come to be when there is a large amount of Mana force in a given area. Sometimes, we rise from the sea. If that happens then the user would be limited to manipulating water elements. Alternatively, if we come from a volcanic area, then fire elements would be the limitation. In addition, we would have corresponding nullifying effects to their elemental adept. A fire adept are incapable of being burned, and a water adept would be capable of breathing underwater.”

“Huh, well, I guess that makes sense... somehow. I mean, I got the gist and all.” Kyl hums, “But wait, how are you able to control all four elements?” he questions, recalling the events of the day. “Are some specialized Mana users like that? Is there a name for that?”

At this, Kean says nothing. Instead, he looks down in contemplation.

“Uhm, did I say something wrong?”

Kean shakes his head. “No, I just do not have an immediate answer so I was thinking how to respond,” he says, “To be honest, I cannot know the exact area where I came to be. This is one of the things about myself I do not have knowledge of. Most Mana users are able to recall where and that is usually the optimal place for them to meditate. Considering what I told you earlier as well, I do not possess any nullifying qualities either. On some occasions, some areas produce Mana users quite often. If they so wish, those users reside there therefore making themselves into a tribe.”

“Oh,” Kyl mutters, frowning. “does this bother you?” He would be worried himself if he didn't know where he came from, or if he was different from others to that extent; the way Kean seemed set apart from his kind.

“To be bothered implies that I feel apprehension or discomfort, which are somehow manifestations of fear. I am not inclined to emotions so no, I am not bothered.” Kean replies, “I go by survival instincts alone, so I suppose it does not matter where I come as I do not possess that knowledge yet am still be capable of living.”

Kyle frowns, not certain he would actually call that living. His uncle was right when he said that Mana users seemed to exist for the sake of existence alone. He couldn't wrap his mind around it.

'What was it like,' he wondered, 'to be without emotions?' Before he could think up a response, Dru calls them for supper.

🔥

Later, Kyl was preparing for bed when Kean mentions something.

“Huh? You're leaving?”

Kean nods, “I decided to stay here for this day to help out, to give my thanks for their kindness. I would like to leave right now, but miss Myrah insists I stay one more night. I do not really wish to trouble them, but I agreed,” he says in his usual manner. “I will depart come morning, I apologize in advance if I am gone before you wake.”

“Uh, no, well... You don't really have to apologize for that.” Kyl says, “But... you mentioned not having a family, or a tribe. So that means you don't really have any home to return to,” he frowns. “where will you go afterwards?”

Kean shrugs, “Mana users do not require a dwelling. It is inconsequential, as the weather do not normally bother us as much as it does to your kind. Even those in tribes usually do not establish such things.” he tips his head slightly. “I thank you for your concern on my behalf, however.”

Kyl scrutinizes this individual that he has come to know, and he doesn't know how to respond. For some reasons, he didn't want to see him go and never know what would become of him afterwards. Kean seems like a nice guy in spite of his somewhat detached tendencies, which was now explained to him. Still, it didn't seem right to him. It was like having a nice feeling after doing a kind deed that makes it all the more worth doing. For that reason, Kyl always wanted to offer his helping hand whenever he can. But for Kean, it seems like he only saw every single act he does as a form of obligation or the like.

Then, something occurs to him. “You said that you're not inclined to emotions, right?”

“That is correct, yes.”

“But does it also mean you're incapable of it?”

Once more, Kean didn't respond immediately. “I never considered the thought. I suppose it is possible, but it seems inconsequential to surviving.”

“And you're just fine with that?”

Kean tilts his head to the side, “I apologize, may you be more specific?”

“It's just...” Kyl hesitates, “I think it would be better if you were able to feel something every now and then, you know?”

Kean replies, “No, I believe I do not. As I said, such is irrelevant to my kind.”

“It's got nothing to do with relevance.” Kyl says, “I know, I'll show you how it's done!”

Kean just stares blankly, “Show me… How to finish what?”

“No, no that kind of 'done.' I'll show you what it means to feel, how to say 'thank you' with conviction.” Kyl grins, “maybe even teach you how to use simpler words, too.”

Kean continues to stare. “I do not comprehend.”

“Yeah, now you know how it feels.” Kyl rolls his eyes, smirking. “I figure since I'm also leaving tomorrow and you don't really have anywhere to go, why not we just go together?” He beams, “Believe it or not, even if I live in a smaller area, we have more to do since we also got a farm to manage along with the bakery.”

Kean nods, as if in understanding. “I see. So, you require my company for temporary assistance in this endeavor. Very well.” he says.

“What? Wait, no. I mean, I guess your help would be appreciated. But no,” Kyl shakes his head, gesturing with his hands as if to dismiss the idea. “I just... I enjoy your company, I guess you could say, and it would be nice if you could get something out of it as well.”

Kean tilts his head once more, “I have. The quaint accommodations here is well appreciated.”

“Er, not exactly what I meant.” Kyl sighs, “But this is why you're coming with me. Just... Stick with me, okay? Like a 'from now on' thing than a temporary one.”

“Hm,” Kean hums, “I must decline.”

“Huh?”

“This is what you humans call a 'proposal', is it not? I understand that it is something done between a man and a woman, also with the binding emotion of love. I am neither a woman, nor do I feel any such emotion towards you. Also, are you not a little to young to engage in such a thing?”

Kyl’s face feels warm, and he waves his arms dramatically. “No, no, no! That is not what this is!” he protests. “Sheesh, why do you have to make it weird?”

“I see. Sorry for the misunderstanding.” Kean tilts his head forward, “You are red."

Kyl gives him a certain look, "Wow, wonder whose fault that is..."

"I believe it's mine; I apologize if I made you feel uncomfortable." Kean said, "I am not accustomed to any human asking for a long period of companionship with me; you are quite strange, Kyl.”

Kyl glares at him, “You're the last person I want to hear that from, mate.”

“All the same, I must decline.” Kean tells him, “I do not wish to trouble you, and a long term connection, which you are requesting, can prove bothersome.”

Kyl raises a brow, “What do you mean?”

Suddenly, they heard some vague noise that later turned into disturbing racket. “This is what I mean.”

🔥

“What on Gaea...” Kyl trails off as he and Kean reach the ground floor, the noise only getting louder.

They follow it, and head towards the bakery kitchen then through the threshold leading to the shop's counter. Kyl walks towards the windows and find a group of men swarming their main entrance, their outsize arms flexing as they visibly attempt to push pass the double, oaken doors. He even notices that they were the same guys who messed with him the day before. Dru pushes against the force to keep them at bay, his corded muscles ripples under the strain.

“Hey, what’s going on?”

Dru's head jerks in reaction, but he keeps his focus on the door. “Maker's name... Kyl?! Please tell me Kean's upstairs!” he grunts.

“I am here.”

“Damn it!” Keeping his weight against the door, he turns around in favor of looking at the other two, “you're the last people I wanted coming over. Where's dad?!”

Before Kyl can answer, Myrah steps in the room next and Dru almost cries in dismay till she opens her mouth. “Your father's making sure our other entrances aren't being broken into. He escaped afterwards to look for the local knights.” she says.

“What's going on?” Kyl repeats, frowning. “Why are those men trying to get in at this hour?”

Dru glares, not in the mood to be answering any questions. “Search me! Whatever it is, it's definitely not for our bread!” he grumbles. “Now get back in your room with mister magic there!”

“That is not my name.”

Dru lets out a long-suffering groan.

“Are those the guys who beat Kean up?”

Dru huffs and in-between grunts, answers. “Kyl, for eternia'sake, you really are simple. Can you not understand the situation?! Now, help me or shut up!”

Kyl huffs indignantly, but goes over anyway and helps Dru push back. Kean raises a hand and ask if he could do anything to help, to which the cousins collectively responds with a loud, 'No.' Kean puts his hand back down and walks away, most possibly back to their room like earlier instructed.

Eventually, the weight on the door suddenly lessened, and the shouting ceased while a stern, authoritative voice was heard. A knock comes from the door, along with the familiar voice of Teodor.

“It's me, Dru. Open up.”

Sighing in relief, Dru rolls his shoulders to stretch out the kinks. Kyl opens the door in his stead, revealing his uncle on the other side speaking with an unfamiliar man. His hair was slightly below shoulder length tied back by a black cord, its pale golden color shines against the dim light of the bakery, he was also dressed in an Adventurer's garb; he wore a long, deep blue inner tunic, a scarlet sash wraps around his waist with a scabbard secured against it. There, the man sheaths his weapon, a two-handed Claymore, which may indicate that the adventurer was left-handed. Kyl wonders if he actually used it earlier, or if it was just to intimidate the men.

The man exchanges a hand shake with Teodor before he pauses, and looks over to Kyl who stiffens at the sudden attention but he relaxes at the stranger's easy smile. His jaw was defined, almost as well as Dru's, maybe even more so. It was also clean-shaved, as if the man grew a beard frequently and had to shave as much.

“I couldn’t find any knight,” Teodor explains, “Thank the reapers, I ran into this fellow.” He says, gesturing to the man.

The adventurer bows his head, “Always a pleasure to lend my services,” he says, “My name is Lyxander.”

“Thanks for your help, sir.” Kyl says, “I’m Kyl.”

The man nods towards him, but diverts his attention to Dru. “And your name is?”

“Me? I’m Dru, short for Druant.”

Lyxander hums, sizing him up carefully. “You seem to have the makings of a great swordsman,” he muses, “How’s your training, Druant?”

Something about that catches Kyl’s attention. It wasn’t any doubt that Dru had an impressive built, but most men didn’t necessarily acquire that physique only through the training of a knight and such, all the more was it how one would be identified as a swordsman.

“Actually, he’s a baker.” Teodor interjects, “What he knows of such a thing is enough to get him by a journey from one town to another.”

Lyxander looks between Dru and his father, the former seems be fidgeting quite a bit. “Oh, I apologize. I didn’t realize that…” he pauses, “well, never mind. If you are ever interested, I am looking for companions to accompany me in a… well, let’s call it an undertaking for now.” He smiles, “I will share more, should you choose to express interest; I will be at the guild. Have a good night, now.”

“Well,” Teodor hums, scratching his backside. “that was an odd exchange.”

Dru takes a breath before speaking, “Dad,” he starts, “can we talk?”

“Hm?”

Kyl looks at his cousin, and understanding dawns on him. “I’m going to check on Kean.”

🔥

A few minutes later, the conversation moved inside with Myrah now included. Dru explained his intentions of exploring the world, as he did not find the fulfillment in being a baker all his life. Teodor listened all through his ramblings, which Dru didn’t expect at all. Finally, the man sighed when his son promised he would remain long enough for them to find a suitable replacement.

“No, son.” Teodor says, “there’s no point, the Hearth bakery is run only by the Hearth family, and those married into it. That’s how it’s always been. We’ll keep the shop going as long as we can manage, but if it’s time, then we’ll close it down.”

Dru widens his eyes, “You don’t have to do that,” he says, “I won’t be gone forever, I’ll come back, once I’m ready to settle down.”

“Are you sure?” Myrah asks, her tone mild, “you just said you do not find fulfillment in being a baker. If you don’t find it fulfilling now, it can’t be certain that you will later on.”

Dru frowns, his eyes now downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

“Don’t feel guilty, son. I’m not doing this out of spite,” Teodor promises, “All things must reach its end, even those things that we’ve found solace in for so long. Such is the nature of life.” He says, “what’s important is that you find what it’s worth. May the Maker guide you in this path, son.”

Dru looks back up, smiling at his parents. He stands and goes over to wrap them in his arms, “Thank you...”

The small family remains that way for a short while, when Kyl comes running into the room in haste. The three breaks contact, and turns towards the young lad who seems out of breath.

“What’s up?”

Kyl frowns, shaking his head. “I think Kean left.”

🔥

Kyl and Dru made preparations to leave the following morning. All the while, Kyl couldn't believe Kean actually left without a proper good bye. It may have something to do with him being a Mana and not having the courtesy to do so, but he had enough of that to return the favor by helping them run the shop yesterday. Plus, Kyl did say he wanted Kean to accompany him when he returns home. It's true that they were still talking about the matter, and Kean had yet to give a confirmation. In fact, the Mana user did imply that it would be an inconvenience for Kyl if he were to keep him company. However, since it wasn't settled Kyl had hoped Kean would reconsider.

"Why do you even care so much?"

Kyl looks towards Dru, pausing in his task of checking if he was all packed, "Huh?"

"About Kean," The older Hearth clarifies, "You said you guys got interrupted before anything was settled, but the guy did say it wasn't a good idea. That's pretty much his say on the matter. Taking it in face value, he declined."

Kyl frowns, shaking his head. "But it wasn't going to be any trouble for me, and he left before I could explain that to him."

"Kyl, he's a Mana user." Dru reiterates, "He managed this long without emotional attachments, he can do without it. Now come along, I need to walk you out town before heading to the guild."

Kyl frowns as he watches Dru making his way out. He should've known better than to explain his case to him. While they were as close as they can be, considering their age gap, they didn't share the same ideals most of the time. Moreover, Dru did give his sentiments regarding Kean's kind and while he didn't detest them to the extent of wanting to hurt them he also didn't sympathize with Kean the way Teodor and Myrah do, the way Kyl does. Resigned, Kyl double checks his things before following him out.

Dru walked Kyl out town before heading to the guild to talk with Lyxander, and most probably get his adventurer certification. With a backer, he would be able to acquire it within the day. Kyl wished him good fortune even as he didn't know how to feel about his cousin's decision; that it could mean the Hearth Bakery closing shop in this town in the later years. He considered talking to his parents about moving in with them officially; his relatives weren't getting any younger and while Dru promised to visit whenever he was nearby Kyl wanted to make sure they're checked on regularly.

Before that, he needed to get home.

So far, staying on the path was working well for him. The only encounters he had were the regularly rabbits and fawns, who scurries away at the mere sight of him as he was more likely to predate on them than they were to him. Before he could think he would arrive to the next town with no trouble at all, he encountered said trouble though not in the form he expected.

There was a creature caught in a net, suspended off the ground. It growled, trying to claw its way out. Kyl notices that its tail was short, its hind legs were longer than its front legs. With this, he figures it was some kind of lynx. But it was strange because, as far as Kyl knew, this region of Gaea didn't have packs of wild felines roaming around. Bears and wolves were more common if he wasn't mistaken, and while he usually is, his father made sure he knew and remembered what kind of wild animals he would most likely run into heading back home. The second thing that bothered Kyl was the fact that it wasn't hunting season, so it was only tolerated to attack wild animals if they attacked first, making this lynx a victim of poachers considering that it was caught and now hanging in a net.

This brought Kyl to his third problem. 'How do I free it without getting attacked myself?'

He frowns, wondering if he should return to town and report the issue. But then if the offenders were on their way back to collect their prize, they would be able to get away before the local knights would be able to do anything about it and take the lynx with them. Then, Kyl remembers the packed lunch his aunt gave him before he left.

"Okay, here goes."

Kyl walks towards the trapped lynx. As expected, once the creature sees the brunette approaching, he starts to growl and snarl at him. Kyl flinches a bit, his hands going up instinctively. He bends over and lays a pair of underwear—one he was looking for a reason to get rid off for a while since he really didn't like how itchy it was. He places pieces of meat on top of it and looks up at the lynx.

"All right, I'm not going to hurt you. See? You can even have this after I free you."

The lynx stares back at it, and for some reasons, Kyl thought it was giving him an a certain expression and he could picture Dru giving it to him. He shakes his head and climbs up the tree and the lynx actually stops snarling, and was just observing him. He sat on the branch that the net was tied on before cutting it with his sword. He hasn't sharpen it in a while, so it took a few seconds before breaking through completely. The lynx drops to the ground and, with remarkable precision, untangles itself from the net easily enough. It walks towards the offering, swiping it off the garment before devouring the meat and jumping towards the bushes and away from the area.

Kyl narrows his eyes and jumps to the ground, picking up his underwear with the tip of his sword. "Guess it didn't like you, either." he places it back inside his bag, before turning and continuing on his way.

When he saw a group of men running towards him; familiar men, at that.

"You—" The one at the front, the self-proclaimed leader whom Kyl thinks goes by the name of Jinn aims a glare right at him, casting side glances at the ruined trap. "a scum-lover, now a rotten vandel? You just love pissing us off, don't you?"

Kyl frowns, "Scum lover? Are you talking about Kean?" he grumbles, clenching his fist. "a scum for something he is, as oppose to hunting animals off season and going against the law?"

"You really love to test my patience, don't you?" Jinn glowers, stepping forward.

[Narrative plot of Kyl being rescued by the lynx, now in a humanesque form. I haven’t written it yet lol. I’m bad at action scenes.]

"You're welcome, and before anything else I would like to highlight that when you're offering food, don't put it on top of your underwear."

Kyl cringes at that, "It's clean."

"Not the point," Lynx made a look, "How would you feel if someone served you a meal on their underwear?"

The brunette rubs the back of his head, "Well, I thought you were an animal so..."

"That's an offense to animals everywhere; most pick their food off the ground, not where your genitals have been."

Kyl's cheeks turns flush, and he decides not to reiterate that it was, in fact, clean.

#Myart #OC #Original story

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