#I've barely gotten anything done in life I'm fearful I'm NEVER going to have the resources to move.. I'm going to stay stuck here | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

poguestvff · 3 years

Text

Used To The Cold — S. Cameron

In which Sarah Cameron comes to a realization after her girlfriend moves across the country.

taglist | main masterlist | 2.0k words

warning(s): none, fluff, i heart sarah <33

Have you ever lost something that held either so many memories or brought a sort of happiness that just warmed you immediately even at the sight of it? Most people have something like that. Such as for children when it comes to losing stuffed animals or action figures that were a source of comfort, they missed it like hell. Said children grow up and look for a new source of comfort. Some teenagers found it in weed and alchohol, others in sports. For Sarah Cameron, she grew out of the beautiful pink blanket her father had gotten her as a toddler. As she grew into a teenager, she found a new solace.

Her girlfriend.

Sarah made it very apparent to show her love to her girlfriend who, at one point, was just her best friend who she could hardly even bare to be away from. Sarah had known she'd loved Y/n before they even got together by the way Sarah had never felt claustrophobic in the friendship that she held with the other girl. She said the three words within the first six months of being with her, words she had never spoken to another being other than her family. It was a word she, personally, took seriously. For her to say it to Y/n showed the amount of trust she held within her. Trust to not feel so closed off with Y/n.

At the beginning of the relationship, Sarah was glad that not much had changed between the two of them. That Y/n let her have her space whenever she needed it without the dependent need to be together all day though it quickly became backwards. Sarah grew even more clingy to Y/n, hardly able to deal without her hands being stuck to her girlfriend like glue. Whenever they went out to lunch, Sarah played a one sided game of footsies that only brought a smile upon Y/n’s features, one of Sarah’s favorite traits about her. Sarah loved the idea of always having a person to call her own, Y/n seeming to be the one person who could bring out her newfound touchiness. Though, sometimes she pondered on whether Y/n herself was even handling it or if she just ‘put up’ with it. If she did have an indifference towards Sarah’s actions, she surely never showed her disinterest in it.

Though the last time Sarah had held on to her girlfriend felt soul crushing and gut wrenching. As the two of them stood on the creaky, wooden dock just before the ferry, Sarah felt drained. Between the amount of crying she’d done in just the past few days had been enough to make her want to sleep forever and the comfort of her girlfriends arms around her hadn’t helped that feeling. Tears held a steady stream down both of their faces though Sarah was the one who was unable to contain her sobs. People passed around them, solemn looks given to the two of them as they listened in on the sniffles and soft wails.

Y/n didn’t need to be a genius to understand that this was twice as hard for Sarah as it would be for her. Y/n was leaving, miles away that Sarah couldn’t even pin on when the next time she’d being able to hold on to her would be. All she knew was that this embrace that Y/n held on her would be the last one for months and there wasn’t a thing that would be able to make up for it between now and then.

It evoked an indescribable sort of fear within Sarah but she knew it was immutable. If Sarah could, she'd even drop her whole life within Outer Banks to follow her girlfriend across the world. There wasn't much Sarah wouldn't do and there wasn't much Y/n wouldn't do for Sarah either, including the moving date having already been pushed back a month because of Y/n's several arguments with her parents.

"I don't want you to go." sarah whispered as y/n kissed her neck. She could hear the blonde's pained and wavering voice, how affected she already was even as Y/n hadn't even stood on the boat yet.

"I know, lover." the y/h/c girl spoke in a low tone, only sarah able to hear her words of affirmation. Y/n was first to pull back, placing her hands on Sarah's cheeks. The sight of Sarah with puffy eyes and a quivering lip made y/n's heart throb and a guilty feeling blanket over her like a raising tide. "i'll visit. Every chance I get, you know I will."

"It won't be the same." she lamented. Y/n placed her lips against Sarah’s, delicately as if the blonde were made of porcelain. When Y/n's parents had called for her and Ward and Rose had called Sarah away from the dock, Sarah only seemed to want to cling further, fingers pressing further into the thin jacket Y/n worse, but their time had finally run out. Even after weeks of pretending that they had all the time in the world, like nothing could pull the two of them apart, it had happened.

The first few weeks, the whole Cameron house had known Sarah spent most of her nights crying herself to sleep and the entire Y/l/n house knew Y/n was not going to be speaking to them for a little while due to their newest decision. Both groups of parents hadn't known that pulling the duo away from one another would become such a quagmire for each of them.

When Y/n did finally decide to talk to her parents, it was usually to say she was leaving to explore the area in which she refused to get to know the first few days. With a driver license, it gave her just a bit of freedom from her parents who's impromptu decisions had still caused for a tearing in their familial relationship.

Y/n sat in her parked car, a hot beverage in hand to adjust to the cold in which she'd just stood in for five minutes. All of it for a drink that wasn't even that good in her opinion but she dealt with it. With the hand not holding the steaming drink, she opened her phone, smiling immediately at the photo of her and sarah as her background. She unlocked it, scrolling around to find Sarah's contact and setting her phone up against the dashboard. While it began to ring, Y/n situated herself to begin to drive. "Hi, Y/n/n!" Sarah shouted excitedly the second she'd answered.

At her tone of voice did Y/n laugh. The enthusiasm was no surprise but it was funny to Y/n every time. "Hi, baby." She replied, fhe smile remaining on her face as she looked towards the screen. Sarah sat at her desk, her hands under her jaw though a pencil between her fingers. She had focused all of her attention from the papers in front of her to the driver on the other end of the phone. "What are you doing?"

The sound of whizzing paper had made Y/n glance to the phone seeing a math sheet now replacing Sarah's face before she placed it back down, a frown appearing on her features. "Math."

"Didn't you just start like two days ago?" Y/n asked, taking a sip from her drink.

"Yes and this teacher is an absolute bitch. You're just lucky you don't start for another week. You would hate Mr. Henley."

Y/n let out an awfully dramatic gasp. "Um, hello, Mr. Henley was literally my home room teacher last year, I'll have you know. Show some respect." She said, almost missing Sarah's chagrined look as she smiled.

"You're supposed to be on my side here."

"Sorry, i don't believe in biases, Sar." She joked for sarah to let out a small snicker.

"So tell me, how's minnesota?" Sarah asked, trying to spark up a conversation even if the distance was the same thing she wanted to keep her mind off of.

"Oh, it's so great. So many hot people." she remarked.

"You're not funny, no one has ever found you funny." Sarah replied though unable to hold in her laugh along with her girlfriend. "I'm serious. we haven't talked much about it and i don't want to like... avoid your new life now."

Y/n sighed, looking towards the phone to see Sarah looking back down at her work in front of her. "Fine. Well, it doesn't particularly suck. The no surfing part definitely does, though, but what can you do. And the coffee here... no, its just so bad, babe. granted, i only had one, and it's in my cup holder right now but it's gross."

"My coffee making is better, right?" Sarah asked as Y/n gave a hefty nod.

"So much better, even if it is the only thing you're good at making." Y/n laughed and Sarah attempted to refuse a smile, her cheeks quivering from trying to keep it down. "But the weather dropped today, randomly. It was seventy yesterday, fifty today but i think i'm getting used to the cold."

Sarah lifted her head back to the phone, watching Y/n focus on driving, her eyes diverting on places away from the screen. Sarah but at her inner cheek, drumming her fingers against the white wood that rested under her forearms. "Used to it?" Sarah asked. She knew Y/n's move was permanent at least until she was eighteen but something about those words made it seem more realistic. She was getting used to a place that wasn't home.

Y/n hummed. "Yeah, i'm probably being dramatic. I saw a guy walking around in a tank top and shorts while i'm wearing double pair of socks right now." she grinned at her own comment though picking up on Sarah's sudden discomfort when she replied with a small 'wow'. "Lover?"

"Yeah?"

"What's going on?" Y/n asked, the car slowing to a stop at a red light.

Sarah quickly shook her head. "No, it's nothing. Just... the work. Keep your eye on the road."

"Sarah." The blond recognized the tone of voice quickly.

"Just... I just fully realized how permanent this is. I won't see you until, what? December? That's a long time, Y/n! And, i get it, it's your home now and i can't do anything about it but—"

Y/n was quick to cut her off. "I never said this is home. Sure I live here but it's just a couple walls and a roof. It's not home, Sarah." Y/n began. "Home is you. And trust me, i've been missing home the second i got on that ferry."

Despite them having to look at one another through a glass screen the feeling—the connection between the two of them was still felt. Sarah could feel the normal warm feeling she would've gotten whenever Y/n would simply hold her hand or brush her hair over her ear. she held that much of an effect on Sarah in person and somehow even thousands of miles away.

Sarah hadn't even realized she had been staring for a total of twenty seconds until a singular tear fell down her blushing cheeks. she quickly sniffled, recomposing herself as she wiped it away. "Are you seriously making me cry right now?" She muttered with the way the atmosphere had become though relishing in the way Y/n laughed in response.

"Yes, thank you for ignoring everything i just said, lover." Y/n put the car back in drive as the light went green. Due to the steets being relatively empty in her new small town, she took the time to look back over at the phone to Sarah. "I love you."

Sarah's smile widened in thag very moment, pursing her lips before pushing them out. "I love you more."

"And don't worry. I won't get to used to it. I'll be back home, to you, before you even know it." Y/n took a small glance to the phone, enjoying Sarah's gaze that showed even with the distance put between the two of them, they'd be fine.

#outer banks x reader #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #sarah cameron fluff #sarah cameron x reader #sarah cameron #obx imagine #john b routledge #pope heyward

183 notes · View notes

fullbushfemme · 3 years

Text

Meeting the Mayans

word count: 1,804

summary: You thought you were prepared for anything. Growing up with four brothers, you had been bitten, beaten, thrown out of trees, concussed, stabbed, practically any violent act you could possibly think of, you had endured. For a kindergarten teacher, you were tough. You had the scars to prove it. That was, of course, until the day you met the Mayans.

unnamed mayan x fem!reader

warnings: brief mentions of blood, hostage situation, and a shooting.

author's note: I've had this idea in my head for ages now and I'm tempted to make it a series. The only issue is that I can't decide which Mayan I want to star (since they aren't named in this fic). I'm tempted to use this as a jumping off point for multiple fics, writing different stories from this initial incident involving different Mayans, but I'd love to hear any thoughts y'all might have :)

-I also haven't written anything outside of academic works in years so go easy on me <3

Santo Padre Septembers were always your favorite. It was sticky and hot, enough to make anyone want to jump into a pool fully clothed, but school was back in session, which meant you got to meet a new hoard of bright-eyed, eager five year olds. You had spent the last month preparing your classroom for their arrival. Nine am to one pm every day for four weeks was dedicated to decorating your classroom, making name cards, making sure every student had all the supplies they needed. Inside every desk you placed glue and markers and pencils and workbooks and scissors...everything a little kid would need to express themselves. And all of it out of your own pocket. You took it upon yourself to spoil these kids rotten.

Two weeks into class, you already knew everyone’s names, their favorite color, their pets, and whether or not they were allowed to watch TV after six o’clock. You knew who was friends with who, who couldn’t eat peanut butter, and who was most popular. This year’s class was going to be great, you just knew it.

It was a humid Friday afternoon. The room smelled like Elmer’s glue and pencil shavings, with stray scraps of construction paper strewn about the floor after the kids decided this week’s art project was going to be making dinosaurs out of construction paper and glitter. You were staying after class to clean up and vacuum, and to take the class rabbit home with you since no one had signed up to care for him this week, when you heard a knock at your door.

You looked over to the open door, squinting into the sun, trying to make out who it was. But no one was standing in the doorway. “Forget something?” you called out, thinking that a student must’ve left a lunch box or notebook and was feeling shy.

“Not exactly,” a deep voice responded, sending a twinge of fear through your body. You knew that voice. “I was hoping my baby sister could help me with something.”

A lump had formed in your throat that you tried to swallow, to no avail. “What are you doing here?” you choked out, standing from where you were picking up paper scraps.

“I need you to help me hide. Quickly.” Your older brother stepped into the classroom, gun in hand, pupils wider than you had ever seen them. He must’ve been high, you thought, panicked. What had he gotten into now? All four of your brothers were known to be trouble-makers to varying degrees. A few had been to prison for petty crimes, but the brother that stood before you had gotten wrapped up in drug trafficking years ago. He scared you the most. They had all promised your parents that they would keep their lives separate from yours, that they would never put you in harm's way. But it didn’t last. It felt like every other week you had a bruised or beaten brother on your doorstep, begging for help or a place to stay. And today, it was to ask you to hide them.

Your eyes flitted to the large windows overlooking the grassy courtyard where a few children sat waiting for their parents to pick them up. Hide. Hide from what? Who was coming after him? Would they hurt the kids?

“N-no,” you stammered, taking a step backwards. You couldn’t risk putting any kids still on campus in danger. “You can’t hide here. You have to go. You have to go right now.” You could feel a pit in your stomach begin to form as your brother took slow, long strides toward you.

“No?” he spat, completely dumbfounded by your refusal to help him. You had never turned him down before. He was family. You never said no to family.

You swallowed hard before repeating yourself. “No,” you responded, with more conviction this time, although you knew he could see right through you.

You took another step back, but ran up against your desk. Your phone was in the top drawer. Could you reach it fast enough? If you even could, who would you call? The police? That was a good way to get murdered and leave a teacher-shaped stain on the floor for the kids to come back to on Monday. Gripping the edge of the table so hard your knuckles turned white, your brother broke the ominous silence before you could.

“I’m not asking you again, hun,” he spat, now so close you could smell him.

“I can’t,” you whispered, your eyes welling up. “The kids…”

He furrowed his brow for a moment, shocked at the idea that you could actually turn your own flesh and blood away. You had always helped him, no matter how many times your parents told you not to, no matter how many times your life was put in danger. He couldn’t grasp the idea that you would put your foot down when it came to endangering other people, when it came to endangering your kids.

“They’ll kill you, you know,” he seethed, looking back over his shoulder towards the open door. There was a low rumbling growing louder and louder, but that wasn’t to whom he was referring. He was talking about your other brothers. “I told them I’d go to my baby sister, that she’d help me. She always helps me. Why would she flip on me now? Why wouldn’t she help family?” His grip tightened around his handgun as he leaned in to threaten you. “If anything happens to me, they’ll know to come to you first. They’ll know you couldn’t protect your own family.” His breath was hot against your neck. “Now,” he sighed, “Help me hide. And tell them you haven’t seen me in months.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” a man shouted from outside, causing your brother to grab hold of your arm. Those tears you had been holding back finally fell down your cheeks as your brother pulled you in front of him, placing you between the stranger and your brother. You could barely make out any details of the man from outside because of the blinding sun, but you could tell he had a gun. And that gun was much bigger than your brother’s. As the man moved into your classroom, at least five more men appeared and followed him in, all with guns pointed at your brother.

At this point, you were frozen. The lives your parents had so desperately tried to keep apart were crashing together, their worst nightmare coming true. The two of you were stuck, with only one way out. And he knew it. He gripped your arm tighter, making sure your body could be used as an effective human shield. The barrel of his gun was shoved into your ribcage, his face buried into the back of your hair.

“See what you’ve done?” he seethed. You looked at all of the men placed around the room. Leather-clad men on top of a backdrop of crudely painted rainbows and dogs. You hadn’t brought these men here. You didn’t anger a group of gun-toting men. And yet somehow, this was your fault.

“We’re only here for you, kid,” a low, rough voice called out, a different one than before.

But he wouldn’t let them take only him. He was bringing you down with him. He was willing to sacrifice his own family to keep from going down alone.

The seconds ticking by felt like hours. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, desperately trying to break free. But you could do nothing besides stand still. All you could do is hope and pray that these men that had followed your brother here had enough decency not to kill a kindergarten teacher caught in the crossfire. But your brother refused to give them that opportunity.

“If I go,” he yelled, raising his gun to your temple, “she goes too.”

These words would haunt your every thought for the rest of your life. But in that moment, all you could think about was the weapon pressed against your skin. Your brother wasn’t just willing to bring you down with him, he was willing to kill you himself. And the thought of it made you sick. It made you want to curl up into a ball and scream on the top of your lungs. You opened your mouth to cry out, but your brother hit you across the head with the butt of his gun before you could.

The men opposing your brother yelled, harsh words were exchanged, but all you could hear was a ringing in your ears. Tensions rose. Guns were raised. Blood dripped down your face and mixed with your tears. Your senses were betraying you, one by one, blending every sensation into one incomprehensible nightmare.

And then, a single gunshot rang out, making you acutely aware of the severity of the situation once more.

A scream escaped your chest as you fell to your knees, free from your brother’s death grip. You brought your hands up to your ears and squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would all be over.

But it wasn’t over. It wouldn’t end. No matter how hard you prayed, you were still on the floor of your kindergarten classroom. Your brother was still prepared to kill you if he felt threatened. Someone was shot...someone was shot but you couldn’t bear to look. You wanted to look, you had to look, to see if it was your brother that was shot. But before you could muster the courage to open your eyes, two arms wrapped around you and pulled you into an embrace. It couldn’t have been your brother, it was much too gentle. But if it wasn’t him, then who?

It took a moment to open your eyes, but when you did, you looked up to see who was holding you. His face was kind, with dark brown eyes filled with worry as he looked down at you. He opened his mouth to say something to you, and he probably did, but you couldn’t hear him over the pounding in your head. He was a stranger to you, and yet he clung to you to keep you from seeing the mess behind you. Like he truly cared for your wellbeing. He pulled you in closer to him, placing his chin on top of your head the way your father did when you were young. It felt...safe. And all you wanted to do was collapse into him and allow yourself to feel safe. You let your head fall into his chest. You let your head fall into this stranger’s chest. And just as you did, two white patches on his left breast caught your eye. Two patches that read: Mayans, Santo Padre.

#mayans mc #bishop losa #michal ariza #riz ariza #taza #taza romero #angel reyes #ez reyes #mayans mc fanfic

55 notes · View notes

enigma-im · 3 years

Text

Fourth Day of Christmas...

Trope: Damsel in Distress (Trigger warnings) Relationship: Dragon x Human Word Count: 7,990

Nobody knew about the Dragon living in the old castle. When the crew went over to tear it down they woke him. The task of collecting bricks seems shallow to the lives lost at the jaws of the mighty beast. All who near his home face a treacherous death, few make it back to tell the tale. The king grows restless, stubborn, and bitter about the loss of an abandoned castle. It meant nothing to him at first and now it means everything.

"Father, when are you going to get out of this stuffy office," I ask, pulling back the curtains. The room has taken on a sour smell, the king being the center of it. The litter decorates his desk and floor, piles of paper stacked on the edges of the table.

"When I'm done," he winces at the light," you understand, darling, the wretched dragon still runs amok. I cannot rest while he kills more of my people."

I scoff, picking up the crumpled pieces of paper," wouldn't have to worry about that if you just left the stupid thing alone."

"Excuse me," he snaps," would you rather have the beast fly down to our part of the world and snatch up our people for his meals? I say, I had you pictured as a better princess than that." I bite back a remark. I cannot have this argument again. Nowadays it's all we can talk about, that cursed scaled bird.

I straighten his station and much as I can, first wanting the excuse to speak with him and now wishing to leave as soon as possible. That dragon has twisted him, turning all his thoughts to destroying it and wearing its hide as armor. This ridiculous feud hasn't gotten us anywhere, just more people dead.

Wondering the castle I try to find ways to entertain myself. With father busy calling out for help to the knights of the area he no longer has time for me. I'm so narcissistic to assume he should only cater to me but I was his sidekick in matters of the kingdom. It was nice being useful for that short time. I sigh, looking up at the painting decorating the halls.

"I just want something to do," I mumble," I wish he would stop bothering with that stupid dragon."

The afternoon rolls into night with another day wasted roaming the halls. I retire to my room, falling into my bed with an annoyed huff. Tossing and turning all through the night as sleep evades me. How can one sleep when they haven't done anything during the day to earn it? A crack of thunder sounds in the distance, though no light shines through the window. I lay back and listen for the rain.

Closer now thunder echoes around me, startling my body into sitting up. I look towards my balcony, trying harder to listen for rain or see the bright flickers of light. I hear nothing, I see nothing. Getting up out of bed I walk over to the double doors, pulling back the curtain to look out at the land. Seeing nothing I open the door.

Walking out onto the balcony I take the moment to admire the dimly lit kingdom below. I soon look to the sky, seeing the beautiful starry night. Not a cloud in sight despite the loud cracks of thunder. Confused, I turn back to my room.

As I walk for my doors I catch movement out the corner of my eye. I freeze. Turning slowly a gut dropping sight greets me. Hanging off the roof, latched onto the side of the wall, is a crimson dragon. It's golden eyes watch me, it's clawed hands gripping the banister of the balcony.

"Evening, princess," he purrs, his tongue slithering out. I recoil a step, dumbfounded and terrified as I grab at the door. Not looking away from him I slowly try to tug the handle towards me. His large head turns as the hinges creak. He stretches out his wings, pushing it back just as slowly as it was opened.

"Let's not make this harder than it needs to be," he crawls onto the balcony," I have no intentions of harming such a delicious looking morsel." I gulp, taking another step back as he approaches. He cuts off the door, circling me, guiding me towards the railing. I jump when my back hits the wood beam, steadying myself as I grab it in a tight grip. He regards me with amusement, stalking closer till his face is in front of mine.

"Please," I whimper, turning away. His horridly warm breath fans over my face, his tongue slithering out inches from my cheek. I shake in terror, wanting to scream, or run, or… something.

"Pretty, pretty," he sniffs at my hair," you would make a fine addition to my hoard." his claws trail over my waist as he guides me away from the banister. I stiffen at his touch, walking forward in hopes of lessening the contact. He tugs me against his chest, his warmth invading me. Without preamble, he crouches, stretches his wings, and launches into the air. I hear the balcony crack, the rails snapping off from the force.

I scream, clenching the damned beast tighter as he begins his ascent over the kingdom. My nails dig into his skin, feeling his laugh against my chest. He lets out a triumphant roar as he flies over the plains, his roar sounding similar to thunder. I whimper, clenching my eyes shut and hoping for a swift death.

We land in the ruins of a castle, falling through the caved-in roof of the main room. He stomps through the halls, his nails biting into my waist and his scales rubbing into my skin. We twist and turn down many halls till we enter a large bedroom. He sets me down, gentle to my surprise. I watch him waddle away towards a broken frame of a bed. The mattress sits on the floor surrounded by a large number of pillows and blankets, a nest. He plops down, resting like a dog with his chin on his hands.

I look at him confused, barely taking in the rest of the room as I fear for my life. What should I do now? Surely he plans to eat me as one last insult to the king. To pick my bones clean and personally deliver them to the palace front steps. That gruesome images plan on and on in my head till I'm trembling in the center of the room. This will be my final resting ground.

"Sit down! I'm not going to hurt you, princess," the dragon chuffs, smoke escaping from between his teeth. I jump at his gruff voice, grabbing at my chest in fear.

"W-what," I ask. I watch him twist his head towards me, eyeing me lazily.

"Do you assume I wish to eat you," he cocks a brow. I furrow mine confused.

"Well, of course, you are the man-eating dragon of old Brittania castle. Everyone knows of your appetite for men," I explain," what else would you do with the likes of me?"

His eyes roam over my body as he answers," I can think of a few things I could do with you." I stutter on his meaning, heat blossoming over my cheeks. Surely he didn't mean that.

"I-I have no uses, sir, I cannot think what I could possibly do for a dragon besides be his meal," I fidget, shifting weight from side to side.

He snorts," you clearly haven't entertained many men if you believe you have no uses for the likes of me."

I scoff at his insinuation," are you being crude?"

"No, I'm being lewd. Crude would mean I'm being simple or unrefined. I'm being more perverse and sexual," he explains. I'm caught off guard by his words, it rather educated than most. Even though he has been immodest, I'm near impressed with his explanation.

"Well, I have no use like that in either definition," I huff," if I may be so bold as to make a request, eat me if you wish to do anything lewd."

"Well, here I thought you would be stuck up and boring. Foolish of me to assume a spawn of king Fjord wouldn't be anything but," he looks away again, resting his eyes. I wait, expecting more from this strange conversation but he stays put. I almost feel brave enough to demand answers but seeing his large tail lazily flick a pillow aside stops that. So many questions run through my head as I stand in the room. There surely has to be a purpose for kidnapping me. I cannot be so ignorant to assume it's for money like normal men. What would a dragon even do with gold?

My legs grow tired, forcing me to sit against the farthest wall. I debate leaving, looking to the open door many times. I try to recall the journey from the main room to here, remembering the collapsed ceiling blocking the main exit. Even if I managed to sneak out of the palace, how would I get home? I do not know my way from here to there. The journey would be spent getting lost and starving to death if the animals don't get to be first. I drop my shoulders and sigh. No, it seems to stay put is sadly my best option.

The morning I awake to loud stomping shaking the floor. I startle awake, wincing as my back pops. My shoulders ache as I lean over my legs. Stretching I try to alleviate the pain some, failing utterly. This is as bad as when I fall asleep in the stables after playing outside too long. Though this is perhaps a tad worse. My shoulder pops as I raise my hands above my head and groan.

"All these pillows and blankets and you didn't think to grab one, or even sleep on the bed," the dragon says. I stiffen, looking to the beast.

"I wasn't sure if I'd be allowed," I answer quickly. He chuffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

"a princess who doesn't take without asking, surely the world's gone mad," he laughs dryly. I grimace, hating the jab more than I can admit.

"I was raised by good parents who taught me to ask first," I bite back, stretching out my legs with another groan. He watches me, sizing me up before rolling onto his back.

"Excuse me, I've never met any royalty who could be accused of 'being raised right'," he wiggles on the blankets, scratching his back," you all are a bunch of greedy bastards who will take anything even if force is necessary."

"Bold of you to say having taken me from my home," I scoff under my breath. He rolls back onto his stomach, arching his back. It's fascinating to watch him move, the light from the window making his scales shine. I've never seen a dragon besides in picture books, this is truly a once in a lifetime sight. Even if he looks smaller than I'd imagine.

"food," he grunts," what should a man-eating dragon eat for breakfast?" he looks to me, licking his teeth. I recoil, flattening my back to the wall to be further away. He crawls off his nest, stalking towards me with smoke rolling out his nose. I shuffle onto my feet, stumbling to the farther corner of the room. He prowls as I try to find anything to fight him with, my corner lacks proper protection. As he steps closer I nearly whimper, not wishing to die so soon in my life. He reaches out a claw, snatching my shirt and forcing me on my rear. Towering above me he licks at my cheek, humming to himself.

"Sweet," he purrs. His maw opens, his teeth grazing my skin as he covers my neck. My heart beats wildly, making my head dizzy with the rush. I shut my eyes. His teeth press hard enough to dimple my skin, his tongue slathering my neck in spit. Before I can pass out from the adrenaline, he lets go.

"Looking a bit pale there, princess," he chuckles," you don't actually think I'll eat a pretty thing like you?"

I squint my eyes open, looking at his amused face. Confused, I turn back to him, watching as his lips curl into a smile.

"Of course I assumed you would," I snap," why else would I be here if not to fill your belly?"

He purrs," perhaps to let me fill yours?" I gawk at him, flustered at the suggestion. He barks out a laugh, taking a few steps back.

"lewd," I cross my arms," Lewd and mean."

He shrugs," I've been called worse."

The dragon waddles out to a side room. The doorframe is broken with the archway crumbled on the floor. I wait patiently for him to return, still confused about my purpose here. At the palace it was clear what I was to do and not do, as of lately it was a whole lot of nothing. The dragon returns dragging in a half mauled cow. He drags the horrid thing beside his bed, lounging on the pillows before feasting on the creature. I watch in disgust as he shoves his snout into the open chest. He tugs off a piece of meat, chewing happily as he looks over to me.

"Want some," he asks, nodding to the meat. I cringe at the meat, looking at him equally grossed out.

"I think I would literally die if I ate that," I answer.

He huff," drama queen. It's this or nothing."

"Then it's nothing, I can't eat raw meat," I answer.

"Can't eat ra-," he shakes his head," humans are too much."

I watch as he tugs off another piece of meat, pulling it out his mouth with pinched claws. He holds the morsel out in front of himself, lightly blowing on it. The air around his fingers seems to waver as if extreme heat is being applied. The meat begins to brown the longer he blows till the smell of cooked beef scents the air. He inspects the meat, nodding in approval before looking to me.

"there, cooked," he stretches his hand," now stop being difficult." I look from him to the meat. I'm reluctant to crawl over to him, still thinking of his neck clasped in his mouth. Crawling over I snatch the meat before retreating back to my corner. I take a tentative nibble, acknowledging its lack of flavor.

"Thoughts," he asks around another mouthful.

I chew the tough meat," it's dry."

He snorts," can't say that I'm a high-class chef. People generally say thank you but I guess I shouldn't expect that from royals."

I eat the rest of the meat, choking it down before I can think too much about it. The dragon inhales his meal like a savage, ripping and clawing at the meat with small growls.

"Thank you," I mumble. I couldn't figure he would hear me over the sounds of his loud chewing. Huddling in the corner I wait for whatever will happen next.

"You're welcome, princess," he says as he inspects the cow's head.

He eats for so long that I'm almost used to his grotesque manners. I actually grow bored sitting her before this ancient beast. Admiring his scales and the large room can only entertain for so long. As I reach my last strand of patience I demand his attention.

"Why am I here," I finally ask, the tension of the question pulling taunt. He freezes, looking to me over the nearly cleaned ribcage.

"Payback," he answers casually.

"To the king?"

"Who else? He keeps trying to take my home so I'll take his daughter," he looks back to his food," don't need to worry, I have no plans of harming you. I just want to make a deal with him. I'll give you back if he stops sending his men to try and kill me. Because despite what you may believe, I do not enjoy eating men…too oily for my taste."

I want to laugh if the image of him chewing up soldiers wasn't so horrid. Him admitting his plan does take the pressure off my shoulders. I believe I can trust him to keep his words, even if he is lewd and disgusting. It shouldn’t be too long before father sends one of his men up here to try to rescue me. Perhaps I can try to enjoy the company until then.

"What's your name," I ask as he shoves the bones aside and begins picking his teeth. He licks at his lips as he cocks a brow towards me.

"Kodim," he answers," what about you, princess?"

"Marie," I smile," I would say it's nice to meet you but I'd be lying. Hello Kodim."

"and I'll say with the utmost honesty that it has been a pleasure to meet you, Marie," he bows. I'm surprised by the bow, not truly expect something so polite. Perhaps he does have redeemable qualities that live up to his elegant status.

"So, what do you do here for fun besides kidnap princesses and eat the king's men," I only half-joke.

He shrugs, rolling over onto his side," not much. Besides eating, sleeping, rubbing one out, and hunting, I don't have much else to do."

I bunch my face up confused," rubbing one out?"

He sits up, a smile starting to curl up his face," you don't know rubbing one out?"

"Can't say that I do," I say cautiously. The mischievous look in his eyes tells me enough about where this may be going.

"excuse me for being lewd again but I really don't know how to explain it otherwise," he starts," it's masturbation. To rub my cock till I cum."

My neck heats up, rolling down my chest and up my face. An unwanted image of him doing such a thing in those pillows makes me cringe. I shake my head to rid the horrid thought, making him laugh in the process.

"Don't act so prude, princess, I'm sure you have done the deed in the seclusion of your room," he teases.

"For your information, I haven't, and I would be ever thankful if we changed the topic to something less invasive," I huff, embarrassed with myself. There isn't much I don't know but desires of the flesh is a genre I don't particularly dabble in. so much is to be done most of the time that I can't be bothered with thinking about what the maidens giggle about in gossip.

"Alright, alright, I didn't mean to fluster the pure princess. How about we talk about you, living the high life up in the 'untouchable' kingdom of Duloc," he scoffs at the end. This dragon has made his distaste of my land very clear, along with his hatred of my father. It's truly a blessing that he hasn't offed me for the sole crime of being born into high-class living.

"What is there to talk about? It's not an exciting life like people expect," I shrug, getting comfortable in my corner. I shimmy this way and that, getting poked and prodded with rocks.

"Come sit in my nest, watching you struggle to get situated is going to drive me insane," he exaggerates. With a sigh of defeat, I crawl over to his bedding, stopping before I can touch it as his previous activities echo in my head.

"Are these," I look up to him," Clean?"

He shrugs.

"ew," I sit back on the ground near the bedding. He barks out a quick laugh, snickering to himself as he reaches over. I try to bat away his hands but he snatches me by the leg and drags me onto the bedding. Sitting stiffly beside him he snorts.

"Tell me an average day in the life of a princess," he lounges behind me, curling around with his tail thumping in front of my legs. I can't bring myself to think just yet as I admire the spikes on the end of his tail. The appendage reminds me of a mace that's hung in my father's room.

"depends," I start," when I was younger it was filled with lots of classes. Had to learn the basics of reading and writing, studying tons of literature until my teens. Learned how to ride a horse, use table manners, math, history, and art. As an adult, I was introduced to actual work for the kingdom. How to formally address the people and begin diplomatic sessions between the ruling parties. It sounds boring but I really enjoyed helping out my father. Recently though… it hasn't been so lively." I reflect on the past year.

Father has been trying really hard to share the responsibilities with me, and I'd argue he was doing a swell job. It isn't till offers of marriage begin coming in, reminding him of his position. I can't be the son he wanted, and I think we both got to forget a little about that. Soon I will have to marry some snooty prince from another kingdom, to let him rule my people. It sours my stomach every time I think about it.

Kodim taps me with his tail, bringing my attention back to the present.

"Why is it different now," he asks.

I drop my shoulders," doesn't matter. It's nothing I can do even if I wasn't here."

He hums, turning his head to rest on his cheek," sometimes a little time away can bring perspective to things you couldn’t see before. Maybe being here is just the perspective change you need." I look to him, thinking on his advice. Could I dare to be so hopeful for a change?

"Don't try to twist this kidnapping into a positive light," I nudge his tail. He sniggers.

"Can't blame a guy for trying to make his princess happier," he jokes.

I cock a brow at him," your princess?"

He shrugs," I think we can both be optimistic about this little business deal."

We chat for a while, actually being more pleasant than I expected. One gets used to speaking with their words restrained. No one has ever spoken to me as Kodim does. It's almost…refreshing, even if it's sometimes lewd.

The next day I wake up laying in the nest next to Kodim. He is a good hands length away, curled around me. I roll over onto my back, seeing him glaring out the window.

I sit up," what's wrong?"

"A knight," he growls. I crawl out of his nest, standing as I near the broken window. Across the plain I see an armored figure riding a horse. They are still a bit a ways away but the threat is clear.

"What are you going to do," I ask, twisting around to Kodim.

"say hello," he smirks, getting up on his legs. I watch him walk out the room, stomping down the hall before I hear his thunderous roar from the skies above. Rushing to the window I catch a glimpse of him already gliding down the valley towards the knight. He circles the man, letting out another earth-shaking roar.

Kodim lets out a mighty burst of flame, cutting off the path for the rider trying to head towards the castle. The knight tries circling around, being forced back once again. I can't help but snort as he does it a third time. It's clear Kodim is messing with the poor man.

The dragon finally lands, standing stoically before the knight. I still can't help but laugh at the size difference. The survivors have told tales of a beast larger than small Kodim down there. He is still big but the exaggerations are clear. Kodim speaks to the man, walking around him as the man tries to wave his sword. Snatching the man up and slapping the sword away he lifts him high above his head, opening his mouth as he dangles the lad. The threat is clear, almost stomach retching.

I sigh in relief when he sets the man down, leaning down low the man tossed to the ground. After a moment Kodim takes flight, leaving the poor man to run to his horse and ride off away from the castle. I watch him till he is but a dot on the horizon, by then Kodim is heard stomping around outside.

"Did I kill your best men because that boy had to be some sort of insult if not," Kodim chuffs as he walks in.

"Not sure," I turn to him," I wasn't in charge of the soldiers."

"Pity," he stops beside me to look out the window," I think the king's men would have been properly motivated if they knew who they were fighting for." I scoff, ignoring his comment as I don't know if it was meant as a jab or a compliment.

"What did you tell him," I ask instead. He glances at me out the corner of his eye, then walks back to his bedding.

"Some beautiful theatrics before I told him to tell his king of the deal," he collapses on the nest," I sure hope he got all that because he looked damn near ready to piss himself."

"Well yeah, he had a scary dragon dangling him over their mouth. I'd be damn near ready to soil myself too," I defend the man.

Kodim laughs," don't flatter me so much, you'll make me soft."

I sneer," that better not be another vulgar joke." he laughs again.

Now with nothing left to do but wait I can't seem to find anything to entertain myself with. Kodim is only so amusing in such a barren room. I'm almost tempted to start cleaning the rubble up. Instead, I lounge around, trying hard to stir up some conversation with Kodim. He hasn't really done much since he left his home in the mountains. Even the story of growing up has been droll.

"What's around the castle," I ask, laying starfish on the bedding. He crawls out from his 'pantry', licking at his teeth. I watch him walk over and plop down beside me, resting his heavy head on my stomach. Air rushes out my nose along with an 'oof'. I try to push him off but he adjusts himself more on top of me. Reluctantly I let him win.

"some ruined houses, a lake, and lots of grass," he grumbles," why? Looking to escape before your father can send someone to retrieve you?"

" And ruin this vacation? As if," I pat his snout," No, I was just curious." he nuzzles against my hand, prompting me to scratch at his scales. I don't pay attention as I try to think of anything else to talk about.

"You want to see it," he asks. I stiffen at the question, constantly cautious of his double meanings. He snorts," not that, you perv, I meant the houses and lake."

"Oh," I blush," yea, I'd love to."

Kodim sits up off me, leaving me to get up and follow him as he walks out. As he reaches the door he glances over his back," maybe afterward I can show it to you," adding a wink before walking on. I stand flustered in the middle of the room, taking a moment before chasing after him.

"you're disgusting," I shout.

"Eh, you love it, princess," he bumps my leg once I catch up.

"I don’t know, jury's still out," I joke back.

"It's not a no, I'll take it," he smiles.

He guides me around the castle, lifting me once we reach the main room. Instead of flying out towards the destination, he drops me in the grass. Confused, I watch him land and begin walking away. Not questioning it I follow after.

Kodim leads us towards some torn down houses, the rock foundation is all that’s left. We look through each one, investigating the rubble with no real purpose. The conversation is amicable, him making me laugh more than a few times. I'd have to say this was a rather pleasant outing.

Back at the castle, I don't have a lot of opportunities to acts less than proper, being scolded for every unflattering snort or chuckle. Around Kodim I can be improper, even downright crass, with our conversations. He even encourages it, feeding into the conversation with his own crude comments.

With the afternoon already before us, I debate going back to his home. Yet, I'm not ready for it all to end. Kodim seems to feel the same as he knocks me from my thinking.

"You wanna see the lake," he asks.

"Can we walk from here to there and get back to the castle before it gets too dark," I ask.

"Who said anything about walking," he smirks, cocky as always.

I scrunch up confused," what would we do besides walking?"

He scoffs, crouching down and lowering a wing towards me," you can ride me."

I stare at the offering, a bit giddy at the prospect of flying with him and not held against his chest. To feel the wind in my hair and actually see the sights the height offers. I meet his eyes, biting my cheek to stop smiling.

"Now I know that's an innuendo," I joke. He barks out a laugh, snickering to himself before he gets the chance to retort.

"Only if you ask nicely," he winks," now stop, this is a once in a lifetime chance to ride a dragon. Don't ruin it."

I shake my head, amused, and begin the event of climbing on his back. He gives me a hand, using his arm as a stepping stool. I straddle the back of his neck, my legs hanging over his shoulders. I almost feel ridiculous up here, like when I first rode a horse. Looking around I try to find somewhere to hold onto. I open my mouth to ask when his wings spread out and swipe through the air. Yelping, I fall forward, squeezing his neck tightly.

"Not so tight," he grunts," choking the dragon is saved for the bedroom." his voice rumbles at my thighs, vibrating against my chest. I can't scold him for his joke as I'm looking at the ground so far below. I didn't figure I was one too afraid of heights but right now I can't piece together why I wouldn't be. I squeeze him tighter, folding my legs in against his shoulders.

"Don't look down, look ahead," he shouts. It's hard to tear my gaze from the ground. All my will power is put into looking to his neck, then his head, and finally the horizon. The fear drains slowly from me as I gawk at the view before me. The clouds look almost eye level, so close I almost dare to reach out and touch them. The trees and hills in the distances look so small, incomparable to looking at them from the castle. Up here everything feels so new, a perspective I never expected to have.

"Wow," I say in wonder.

The flight is ended shortly as I spot the lake coming into view. The sight is gorgeous, changing as we descent. For a moment I can almost see the whole lake, all edges. As we land I can see the pebbled beach below.

The landing is a bit bumpy as he more or less falls to his feet. I clench around him again, nervous about dropping the few feet to the dirt. Before I can start trying to climb off him he shakes, shifting me to his front. I yelp, holding on for dear life, to his amusement. His clawed hand rests against my back, the other cupping my rear.

"We're here," he stands on his two legs and walks to the water.

"Really," I bark," I didn't notice from the awful landing and sudden position shift."

"For someone who got to ride a dragon you seem rather hostile," he squeezes my rear.

"I wasn't till recently," I try to wiggle out his arms," and stop touching my ass!"

His laugh vibrates through me, even echoing as he sets me down. I scowl up at him, wanting to slug him in the chest for being such a jerk.

"Excuse me, princess, you are just too tempting," he purrs, falling to all fours to growl near my ear. I shove him aside, fighting back a laugh. Ignoring him, I turn to look over the lake. The sun has begun setting, making streaks of light dance over the water. I've never actually seen such a large body of water before, only admiring ponds and fountains.

"pretty, right," he asks, walking beside me and flopping down against the rocks. He groans, stretching out on the stones. "Warm," he mumbles. I grin down at him, enjoying watching him stretch out like a cat. I plop down beside him, spreading my legs in front of me. The view keeps my attention, the fresh air clearing my head. It's really peaceful out here.

"It is pretty," I nearly whisper.

We both rest by the water, Kodim resting his head on my lap. I lazily scratch him, watching the sun begin its colorful descent. I never understood wanting to stop and smell the roses before, taking the saying too literally as a child. It makes sense now.

"Thank you," I say to Kodim.

"For what," he asks. I look down at him, seeing him snuggled against my stomach with his eyes closed. I pet over his cheek, admiring the way the scales reflect with the setting sun. an eye peaks open, looking up at me.

"For flying me out here," I look back up at the water," it's really nice."

He shuts his eye back, humming with a smile. "it's truly my pleasure, princess."

We stay well past sunset, resting against one another while stargazing. At some point we shift positions, me resting against his stomach as he curls around me. I hold his tail in my lap and watch as each star begins to shine. A breeze rolls through, making Kodim shiver and snuggle in closer to my side. I pet at his neck, figuring it's time to head back.

Groggily, Kodim gets up, stretching before helping me onto his back. We fly back to the castle, the view just as amazing with the ground looking nearly completely black. A chill runs up my spine, forcing me to curl around his back.

We fly into the collapsed ceiling and walk back to the bedroom. Kodim beats me to the nest, flopping down onto the pillows with a pleased groan. He tugs some blankets on over himself, curling nearly into a ball. I can't help but watch him, dumbfounded at the adorable display. He looks up to me, lifting his tail and patting the space in the middle of his circle. I happily walk over, snuggling in next to him.

The next morning I wake up to something shaking my shoulder. I slap the annoyance away, pulling my blanket around myself more. I'm nudged again, even grabbed and tugged forward. Startled, I open my eyes and look around. I look up to a man in overly polished armor. Before I can say anything he covers my mouth, pulling me into his arms and dragging me out of the bed. I'm confused about my course of action as this is clearly one of my father's knights but I can see Kodim still sleeping a mere foot away.

"I'm here to save you, princess, try not to make too much noise," he whispers. The title rubs me the wrong way, it not rolling off his tongue like it does Kodim's. reluctantly I nod, knowing this was how it was all supposed to end. The knight helps me up, guiding me out of the room quietly. I pass one more sad glance at Kodim, guilty that I can't say goodbye.

I follow the knight around the castle, taking a different path than the one to the main room. We walk out a large gap in the split foundation into the bright morning. He walks over to an awaiting horse, petting them on the nose before grabbing at their reigns.

"We must leave quickly before he awakes," the man says, hurrying to help me onto the horse. He jumps on behind me, kicking the sides of the horse before we ride off away from the castle. It stings to leave, already missing Kodim's company.

Once we are a good distance from the castle does he slow his horse to a walk.

"Now that you're safe, I should introduce myself," he starts rather civilized," I am prince Ricardo of Florin."

I hesitate at his title," a prince? What are you doing coming out here?"

"I had to come out here," he grabs at my waist uncomfortably," I had to save my future bride from that horrid beast, as per your father's request." my heart sinks at his words. Future bride? No, that's absurd. There is no way any prince would bother with the ride out here, let alone to a known dangerous location.

"Future bride," I ask, pushing his hands off me," now I didn't agree to any of this. Why are you really here?"

He ignores my attempts of pushing him off and wraps his arms around my middle," alas, princess, I speak the truth. I made the deal with your father to have your hand in marriage if I am successful in rescuing you from the dragon. It would have been easy to get some lowly knight but I knew this task couldn't be trusted with just anyone."

His cheesy words spoil my stomach, rotting like a half-eaten apple in the bottom of the bin. I can believe my father doing something so desperate as promising me to another. I'm not naïve to assume otherwise. What really picks at me is the fact this man took on the journey himself. All princes I've met wouldn't dare get their hands dirty with a task like this. A knight for hire would have been an obvious choice, letting them venture inside and sneak me away. No, this doesn't sound like princely behavior.

"Alright," I drop the prim and proper," what is your goal here? Think you can marry into a royal family and get all the fame and riches as you like? It's a genius plan if only the princess you planned to save was an idiot. On the account that I am not, it's best if you just take me home and we pretend none of this marriage business happened." it's a clever plan, I won't deny it. The main mission would be to save me, not kill the dragon, so it would just take a quiet hand to snatch me away. I'm almost smug being able to see through his ruse. That is until his fingers begin to dig into my skin.

"I wanted to take the ride home to endear myself to you but it seems that's not an option," he sneers," so how about I just teach you what happens to little girls who don't understand how to show gratitude to someone who helps them." I wince as he squeezes harder, a hand trailing up to my chest and groping. I freeze at the action, very unprepared for such treatment. His lips peck at the back of my neck, making my skin crawl with every caress.

"Ricardo, you better take your hands off me right this instant," I try not to let my voice waver. His answer is a chuckle, reaching under my shirt to pet at my stomach. I jerk at the feeling of his cold fingers, jumpstarting my will to fight. I wriggle in his hold, tugging his hands away as I fight to get off the horse. He gives me a hand, pushing me off into the dirt.

I hit the ground hard, wincing at my shoulder take the brunt of it. Before I can recover he is on top of me, straddling my waist. I slap at him, swinging wildly with closed fists. I beat at his armored chest and get a single weak hit against his cheek before he grabs my hands. Pinning them to the dirt and smiling down at me.

"Such a spirited little princess," he grips my hands in one of his," I'll enjoy breaking you." I fidget and jerk away, trying to free my hands or kick my feet. He just laughs at my attempts, reaching for my collar and pulling it harshly to the side. A tear echoes around the morning air, making my eyes stinging as tears threaten to fall. He gropes and plays with my breast, growing hard in his trousers. I fall lax, stopping my fight for just a moment. He smiles wide.

"Good girl," he purrs," just let it happen." he bends down to suck a nipple into his mouth, his hand trailing down my arm before grabbing at my chest. I hiccup, tears falling towards my ears. His touch repulses me, my body ready to cringe away. With him distracted I clasp my hands together and bring them down harshly to the back of his head. He yelps, trying to rise and grab my hand once again. I hit him again, knocking him aside. He falls to the ground, clasping his temple as I scurry to my feet. He makes a grab for my ankle, missing by a hair as I book it back the way we came.

"You bitch," he growls, stumbling to his feet. I don't bother looking back, running as quickly as I can. His footsteps begin a bit of way behind me but stop after a bit. I can't bring myself to rejoice in his departure, just running till I can't anymore.

The castle appears in the distance, planting a seed of joy in my heart. The sound of hooves stomping behind me squash any potential happiness. My lungs burn and my heart beats fast as I race to the crack in the foundation. Everything fades from vision besides that single skewed entrance. I don't listen to the horse closing in, or the screaming man, I just focus straight ahead.

I can almost feel the horse's breath on the back of my neck. It sending chills up my spine. I slam against the crack in the wall, crouching to crawl through it. As I wedge myself in a hand snatches at my shirt. I chance a glance behind me, seeing the red face of the prince. He pulls, I pull. I wiggle away, gaining no ground till my shirt tears. With the clothing torn off, I manage to get back into the castle.

I run through the halls, huffing and puffing as I speed through familiar territory. The bedroom door is like a holy blessing as it comes into view. I snatch the handle and run into the room. Kodim still lounges in the center of his nest, just now waking up. He groggily looks at me, not getting the situation till I fall against him. I wail, grappling him closer as I finally let myself cry.

"Whoa, whoa," he sits up, curling around me," what's wrong, what happened?" I can't answer yet. I hiccup, rubbing my face against his chest as I take the comfort of his arms around me. He is safe, I repeat in my head, Kodim won't let him take me again. It's hard to calm down as the fear still demands action. That man could be trying to get in right now, that idea makes me hug Kodim tighter.

It takes a good minute for me to collect myself enough to speak, even then it's hard. I sit up, finally looking at him. He meets my eyes, looking away for a second to look at my chest. As his eyes meet mine, he looks angry. Reaching over he grabs a blanket, wrapping it around me before asking.

"What happened, Marie," he growls. Him saying my name is enough for me to understand his ire. In the week that I've known him, he has only said my name once. It's oddly comforting to hear him say it, knowing that his playfulness has left to make way for his seriousness. I'm hurt and he isn't happy about it.

"a knight snuck in," I finally answer," an-and he took me away from here. Then he…then he said some things I didn't agree with. He- I can't." I turn away, too terrified to repeat what happened. The feel of his fingers still lingers on my body. It was all too much, I can't even say it without wanting to cry. I hiccup, sniffling as my body trembles. "Please, I can't," I whimper," I can't."

Kodim holds me against his chest, petting at my hair," it's ok, I get it, you don't have to explain. I just need to know where he is, can you do that for me, princess?"

I nod," I left him near the right-wing. He found a crack in the wall to sneak in and I used it to get back here."

"good job, princess, you did great," he rubs his snout against my head, licking at my tear-stained cheeks," I have to go get him, you ok being alone for a second?" I startle at his request, grabbing at him in a flurry of panic.

"No, no. don't leave me, Kodim, please," I beg, not caring how pathetic I look. He grabs my hands, shushing me.

"it's ok, I won't let him come near you. I'm going to find him and he won't ever hurt you, understand," he asks, I nod," good, just rest in our nest and I'll be right back." I nod again.

He guides me to lay down, tucking pillows and blankets around me. Pressing a rough kiss to my hair he storms out the door, shutting it behind himself before his steps echo down the hall. I try not to think as I snuggle into the blankets and pillows. I try to think back to last night, not believing only hours ago I was truly happy. It was nice being there with Kodim, feeling all warm and fuzzy while I rest against his stomach.

A thunderous roar breaks my thoughts, the present trying to sneak back in. I push it aside, thinking about the long hours we've spent talking in this very room. The conversations about childhood and life, memories, and moments. I like Kodim more than I realized I would. This thought brings a smile to my face.

It's a good while later when the door opens. The stomping beforehand is warning enough. I don't move, just watching him toss a set of armor off the far corner before crawling into the nest. He walks around me, falling behind me with a soft thud. He reaches under the blanket, snaking his arm around my waist. Pulling me against his chest, he curls around me. His tail falls limp over my legs and his breath ghosts over my neck.

"how're you feeling," he mumbles against my head. I grab his hand against my stomach, giving it a squeeze.

"better now," I answer. He hums, leaning down to lick at my shoulder.

"Do you want to go home or stay here, I think it's time for you to have a choice," he bumps his snout against my head. I rub at his fingers, enjoying the warmth.

"I wanna stay here, if that's ok with you," I answer.

He nods," this home is yours as long as you wish. This nest is ours as far as anyone's concerned."

I smile, feeling safe, loved, and cherished at this moment. Shutting my eyes I let myself feel protected. I'm in my nest with my dragon, and everything is going to be ok.

#12 days of christmas #12 tropes for christmas #Enigma-IM #monster boyfriend #dragon boyfriend #exophilia #damsel in distress

255 notes · View notes

kozu-chan · 3 years

Text

synopsis: keeping up with a society that expects you to be perfect is exhausting in every way possible. you're lucky enough to have found someone who relates to navigate this brutal world with.

content warnings: fem! reader, cursing, insults, bullying if you squint, mentions of insecurity, a bit of fighting, mentions of mental health, and sakusa might be ooc but that's just to make the arguments a little more dramatic.

sour masterlist

growing up, you were a perfectionist. although this wasn't necessarily your fault, was it? at the young age of four, your parents discovered that you were, and maybe still are, gifted with talent for music. this led to years of guitar, piano, violin, flute, singing, and even harp lessons. throughout the years, you went through many concerts and hours upon hours of practicing your various instruments. this led you to attend the infamous itachiyama academy in high school and that was only the beginning of your troubles.

as a perfectionist, you dedicate yourself not only to your music, but to your studies as well. sadly, even you can't manage to balance school, music, sleep, and a social life and one of those things have to give due to your busy schedule, so you sacrifice your social life. sometimes you think that this was the wrong move because that just makes high school practically a living hell for you. that is, until about a week ago.

last week, you had a regular morning. you walk through the halls of your school and people do their best to avoid you, to not get in your way. however, that doesn't stop them from gossiping about you. "wow look at l/n. little miss perfect." "i dare you to talk to her!" "she's such an ice cold perfectionist." "i could never be friends with her. she's too serious." "does this bitch even have a life?" you ignore the comments as you make your way to your first class. sometimes you just want to yell at them to stop talking about you. to tell them how much it hurts you and how being such a perfectionist is exhausting. to let them know that their comments only add to how lowly you think of yourself. that you wish that you had even one friend because you feel so alone.

after school, you spend hours in the music room practicing a song you were thinking of performing, something self-written as a way of releasing your emotions. and once you think your practice is sufficient, you curl up against the wall and cry.

once your crying session is done, you get up and walk back to your dorm. on the way back, you see someone in the gym do an insane serve that slams down that just barely makes it in. you hear a groan of frustration followed by the oh so familiar sound of breath getting shaky due to crying. your gaze follows the sound to see the figure on the floor crying and your breath gets caught in your throat when you realize it's not just any player, but one of the top three aces in japan, sakusa kiyoomi.

"sakusa-san?" sakusa looks at you with what looks like a bit of fear but anger replaces his expression before you could confirm your suspicions. "what the fuck are you doing here? this is a private practice." his tone is cold, firm, and piercing. you could feel a chill run down your spine, but you ignore the feeling because other people, especially your parents, have been on the receiving end on your own tone that sounds just as menacing. the only indicator of crying being the red, slightly watery eyes that you can't help but sympathize with. "what are you staring at?" you snap out of your thoughts to respond to him. "i saw you on my way back to my room. i just happened to see you crying and i-"

sakusa sighs again in frustration. "and you what? just shut up and leave me alone!" "i just know what it's like, okay? you really think that you're the only one who's tired of not feeling good enough? the only one who's cried because you just want to get better but you don't see any improvement no matter how much you practice?" your voice is loud and yet on the verge of tears. you glace at sakusa, who now looks angrier but you don't care. "so sue me if i come off as a ice cold bitch who doesn't talk to anyone because i do anything and everything i can to be perfect even if i always fall short and sue me for sympathizing with you."

the room grows quiet, save for the sounds of your shaky breathing as you try your best to calm down before you actually start breaking down in front of him. it takes another few seconds before sakusa stands up and walks up to you. "l/n, right? yeah well you don't know me and you should just get out of my sight. you shouldn't be trying to get someone to stop crying if you're just going to cry yourself. just relax more." relax more? "that's rich coming from you." you're no longer crying and sakusa stops in his tracks.

"you're telling me to relax more when you don't seem to have any chill... ever. and let's not forget that your crying was what brought into the gym in the first place." you take a deep breath to calm yourself. "so... the gym is like your safe space, right?" sakusa doesn't answer, clearly exasperated and silently begging you to leave. "c'mon, sakusa-san! you can tell me!" you smile a little when he opens his mouth to talk, only to be disappointed by his response. "god, you're such an annoying bitch. go find someone else to bother!" you're disappointed but you're also persistent. after all, you are the one that figures out and teaches all the schoolwork you struggle with to yourself. "if it makes you feel better..." you sigh quietly and contemplate whether or not it was a good idea to expose yourself this much to someone you just started talking to. "if it makes you feel better, my room and the music rooms are my safe spaces." "it really doesn't. if anything, it just makes me feel even more pathetic!" a small smirk graces your features as you realize that you got him. "so this is your safe space? i didn't hear a denial!" sakusa rolls his eyes. "would you shut up already" "not until you admit it." he glares at you and you just look him dead in the eye, causing him to break (probably so you would shut up as he thinks you'll do if he admits it). "fine... the gym is my safe space... that you're encroaching on." you back away slightly because he was right. and you know that you would also be pissed as fuck if someone encroached on your safe space, especially while you were crying. "i'm sorry, i just wanted to help. but, maybe we could be each other's safe spaces?"

you mentally sigh in relief as sakusa looks just the slightest bit more comfortable upon hearing that. "i mean, you know what it's like so... i guess i wouldn't be opposed to that." the two of you give each other a small smile as you sit down a good length away from him. "god, it's brutal out here, huh?" sakusa lets out a small laugh and agrees.

"sakusa, are you really gonna go pro like they say you are?" sakusa looks at you for a second and nods. you even notice his eyes lighting up a little. "yeah, that's what i want. it's what i've wanted for as long as i could remember. i wouldn't work so hard for it and get so dirty if it wasn't my dream... what about you? are you going to become a musician?" now it's your turn to pause. you freeze up. it's been so long since someone's asked you what you wanted. "i... honestly? i don't know what i want anymore. it's been so long since i've been asked what i wanted. it's been so long since someone's seen me outside of the "little miss perfect" that everyone else sees... i don't know." you take a moment to recollect your thoughts. "i just hate the thought of disappointing people that i think i've lost myself in the process. i've been pursuing music for so long that it's familiar, it's instinct, and i can't see myself doing anything else because i haven't done anything else..." your voice gets quieter as you speak. this is the first time you've ever gotten a chance to voice out your thoughts to someone and your own revelations shock you.

"yeah, i think i'm getting there too. losing myself to satisfy everyone while trying to stay true to myself. after all, who am i if not exploited?" it takes a minute to digest the words that were so simple and yet so powerful, the six words that could be used to summarize your entire life. "it sucks, doesn't it? like all i did was try my best, and this is the kind of thanks i get? annoyance and isolation? awards and acknowledges of achievement but at what cost? my social life? my mental health? ... my identity?" sakusa looks like he's going to say something but you shoot him a look and his mouth closes to let you continue. "it's literally so fucking stupid! there's literally no actual reward for me anymore, nothing satisfying. it's all worthless - meaningless, even. sometimes i wish i could disappear..."

a small breath is sucked up and you turn to sakusa. "sorry that was heavy. i've just never had someone to talk to about this. at least not properly."

"i get it. i haven't really had a lot of people to talk to either. at least not that honestly. i'm glad we have each other now, because you were right. it is brutal out here and it's good that we can stick together now."

after that, no one really bothered you anymore and it was all thanks to your new friend and confidant.

a/n: sheesh this is one of the longest things i've written. i really hope you like it and i'm really sorry that i suck at endings!!

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #platonic! sakusa x reader #haikyuu angst #sakusa angst #itachiyama #brutal olivia rodrigo #god it's brutal out here #olivia rodrigo #haikyuu fic #haikyuu songfic #songfic

35 notes · View notes

iwalc · 3 years

Text

Take me home

Hi people! I hope you are all well! Here is a something I've worked on for a while. Uhm, I realise now that I have never posted anything I've written on here before, so I am a little nervouse, ngl. I've been into a horrible writersblock for over a year now and this is the firt piece I've even been able to finish, which also makes me kind of nervouse. Either way, here it is. I hope you'll like it, and if you do, pls let me know.

Wordcount: around 2500.

I haven't really proofread anything, so if there are anything that's a bit off, then I apologise.

Damn it. I lost. Again. Here I am pissed drunk in a bar, far away from home. Or... what's supposed to be my home. Anger, love, confusion, roads that lead nowhere. As to lately, I don't know what has gotten into me. We all know life's a rollercoaster, ups and downs, downs and ups. This time I wasn't prepared. I've hit the ground. Hard. Everything happened so fast.

Almost a year ago I moved from home. It was sudden but necessary. I got into college in London and saw my opportunity to leave my abusive household. For years the mental abuse had just gradually gotten worse. Although I love my parents to bits, it was not a healthy surrounding and I needed a new perspective. I moved into a small apartment a few minutes from my college. The apartment wasn't really luxurious. But what could I expect with rent that cheap. It was alright. For me at least. Soon after the move classes started. The first few days were rough. A lot of new things, new people, new surroundings and I was all alone. You see, I am not a fan of new things. I'd rather be stuck with everything the same than have the winds of change knock everything I know to pieces. That's what I soon noticed. I didn't recognise anything anymore. Everything was to pieces. I've never felt so lost or scared.

After a while, these strange feelings of insecurity and fear decreased a bit. I started seeing people from my classes. We went to lunches, studied, went out on the weekends. For the first time in a long while it felt like my life was starting to get better. I felt alive, not only like I was just existing. I felt normal. I lived in a large city, in a tiny apartment, barely being able to pay rent, eating fish sticks and whatever else cheap food that Tesco happened to sell out, spending all money on weekends clubbing, listening to bands, laughing, getting shitfaced, having the time of my life.

On one of these nights, I met someone. Someone that would change my life drastically, and thank god it was for the better. It was an ordinary weekend. Me and the girls got ready for a night out, as usual. Only this time we were to meet Angela's boyfriend and his friends. Everyone was crazy excited. I tried to be, but as we have stated before, I'm not doing very well with breaking routines or new things, hence my increasing anxiety. To cut the chase, Angela's boyfriend had nice friends. Especially one of them. Brian. I don't really know what drew me to him. He just seemed so calm and safe. Somewhat on my level. The others, Angela, Jessica and Amanda, were all outgoing girls, finding it easy to talk and meet new people, having no trouble being in the centre of attention. I did not enjoy those types of things. I enjoyed letting others being in the centre of attention and them leading the way. I thrive in the shadows of other people and Brian seemed to be the same way. He was the quiet one, the one in the shadows. But he didn't seem shy. He sat comfortably in the booth, a beer in his hand, listening in to the conversations, taking part in them whenever it was needed. He seemed so calm, safe, secure. Something I craved. He was tall, green, welcoming eyes. Angela sat down beside her boyfriend, Roger, a blonde, seemingly handsome guy. Jessica was called over to Freddie, a dark-haired man, seemingly not afraid to stand in the centre of attention, he was very authentic and expressive. At first, I'd say he'd be a bitch, but he was so nice and welcoming. Such a sweetheart. Amanda sat down between Jessica and John and they got carried away with their conversation pretty quickly.

Me being me, trying to read the room, the new people, anxiously stood there, at the end of the table. My anxiety started to peak at this uncomfortable social situation. I had no idea what to do. I froze. The others seemed engulfed in their conversations and bonding and hadn't noticed my uncomfortable state. But Brian did. He seemed to understand and saw my anxiety. It was amazing how he just knew how to deal with it without scaring me off more. He redirected his attention towards where I stood. He calmly called my name. His voice. I've never ever felt more secure. After a few calls, and his hand gracing mine, I zoned in again and once again became aware of my surroundings. His touch. Warm. Soft. Peaceful. "Hey" he said softly, "would you like to sit down?" he asked as he carefully for a second took a hold of my hand, with me not showing any sign of uncomfort, he carefully guided me to sit down beside him, a soft smile gracing his lips. "I'm so sorry for zoning out like that, thank you" I quietly whispered. He once again took a soft hold of my hand, smiling, "Don't apologise, I understand". Something told me he did understand.

And ever since we met that night, at a pub in Kensington, he has made me feel at home. Safe. Comfortable. My pieces were glued together again. Brian was my everything. He still is. The last few months with him has been filled with such happiness and security I never ever thought I'd experience. I love him to bits. He understands me and my needs like no other. He knows how to take care of my anxiety attacks. He knows how to help me relax. He is my rock in a stormy ocean.

Until today. Earlier today, the pieces he glued together, fell apart, again. Today we moved in together. We figured it would help with our economic situation since we were both students. I mean, we love each other so why not. Well. This is why. I am once again falling apart. My pieces are flying away. I couldn't handle one more change. I've broken up with my family, moved away from home, started college, all in the period of 6 months. It was too much. And now this. I love him. But my world has been picked apart once more.

The whole day I've been feeling my anxiety increasing. Usually, Brian notices or I feel comfortable telling him, but this time I noticed how excited he was, I didn't want to hurt him with my bullshit. It's horrible feeling yourself falling apart but not be able to do anything about it. It was 7 pm and Brian was unpacking things in the living room while I sat on the sofa trying not to lose it. He kept talking about how happy he was and how this was a dream of his. How excited he was to share his life with me, to love me. All the while he was so happy babbling away, I was freaking out. To say the least.

My anxiety kept increasing and now I couldn't handle it anymore. I felt my breathing quickening, my hands and legs started to shake and tears started to stream down my eyes. I couldn't do this. What have I done? "Love? What do you think hanging this here?" Brian asked excitedly holding up a poster on the wall. I couldn't breathe. "Love?" Brian asked before he turned around. My knees were up to my chin, hands holding them in place, rocking back and forth, tears streaming down my eyes. Brian was shocked to see me in this state of mind but wasted no time. He hurried up to me on the sofa. He sat down on his knees in front of me, his hands on my cheeks. "Love, look at me" he pleaded with a calm voice. "Love" he said, more firmly this time. "Shh you're okay, love, I got you" he said as I lifted my head to look at him. I was frightened. His beautiful, angelic face that earlier always brought me peace and comfort were now triggering my anxiety. I ran. I ran out of the apartment, down the staircase and out of the building. Before leaving the building I heard Brian calling my name, running after me.

That's where I am right now. I ran to a pub, the pub we met at. I'm drunk. Anger, love, confusion, roads that lead nowhere. As to lately, I don't know what has gotten into me. We all know life's a rollercoaster, ups and downs, downs and ups. This time I wasn't prepared. I've hit the ground. Hard. Everything happened so fast. Wrapped up so consumed by all this confusion. With every thought I down a beer. "Could I get another one pls?" I slurred to the bartender. But no. No way I was going to drink more tonight. I don't know if it was intentional or not to go to the only pub in London where I'm recognisable since we go there all the time. Maybe I wanted to be found. The bartender declined and then went through a doorway to the kitchen. I heard him talking on the phone. He was talking about me. More than that I couldn't recognise and soon after my head hit the table and I was out.

I woke up in a bed. It took some time to locate where I was, but soon I noticed I was in our apartment. My head was killing me along with the anxiety and guilt. What the hell happened. I had no idea.

Soon enough Brian entered the room. I couldn't do anything. I barely dared to look at him. He looked exhausted. And there was something else, it shocked me that I couldn't decipher what it was.

"Hi" he calmly said as he strode to my side of the bed and set down a glass of water and aspirin.

"Hi" I vaguely answered.

The silence took over the room. I barely dared to move but did to take my aspirin and drink some well-needed water. Not letting my eyes of Brian, I watched as his tall body sat down on the side of the bed.

"How are you feeling?" he calmly asked as his hand strode closer to me but he didn't dare to touch me, probably confused by my signals yesterday.

I met him halfway and took a hold of his large and warm hand. As soon as he felt my hand on his he held mine tighter and let out a breath I didn't know he was holding.

"I don't know how to answer that" you answered honestly.

Brian hummed and stroked my hand with his thumb, looking at our locked hands.

"You scared me" he whispered. Tears threatening to leave his eyes.

That hurt.

"I'm so sorry" I panicked and sat up, only to regret it as my head almost pounded you dead. "Ow," I winced as my free hand went to hold my forehead.

"Careful" Brian voiced as calmly as ever. His eyes scanned around the room, trying to muster the courage for what he was to say next. He cleared his throat. "Can we talk about what happened?" he almost whispered, taking my hand in both of his, stroking it with his thumbs.

Of course, he wants to talk about it. There is nothing strange about that. However, I rather not. What am I supposed to say? That I panicked, that his face suddenly made me uneasy? That... I don't know. Suddenly I felt his hand upon my cheek. I must've zoned out.

"hey, it's alright"

I let out a loud sigh, catching Brians attention. "Brian, it is not alright. I'm a mess. What I did wasn't alright." Tears were now streaming down my cheeks. Burning like fire. Brians weight shifted as he crawled onto the bed, laying down behind me, embracing me like never before. His arms around my aching stomach and my arms. His leg over mine. His chin in the crook of my neck, whispering calming sentences while my tears shook my body. His body warming mine. It's always so calming.

How can I be so damn lucky? I ran away from home, from my love, I got piss drunk at a pub, and still, he took me home, taking care of me, holding me, loving me like no other. It's suffocating in the best way.

The tears calmed down. "Brian, I want to come home", I sniffed, crampingly grabbing onto his large, warm hand. "I'm hurting. I'm so lost. Confused. Angry." the tears were now rapidly streaming down my face again as I poured my aching heart out. "I really had to get away from home to live my life, to get better. When I first got here I felt cheated. It was so hard and I've never been worse my whole life. I've never felt more alone, left out, beaten up." I kept rambling on. "I know, love, I know." Brian cooed into my neck, stroking my arm. "But you don't Brian. I can't seem to find my way home. I'm so lost." I said as tears wrecked my body. Brian, holding me, securing me, hushing me, whispering sweet things. "I don't even know how you put up with me. I'm so broken. I came to you with a broken faith, and you gave me more than a hand to hold." The first time I voiced my fear and insecurity about how Brian feel about me. I'm so scared he'll leave me. He's all I've got. "Love, shh, It's ok. Hey, listen to me." he started as he turned me so I could look at him. "I understand that you feel like you're lost, I really do. Everything you've ever known has changed in less than a year. Space will eventually make it better, time will make it heal, and soon enough you won't feel like you're haunted. You won't be lost forever!" He praised as his hand stroked my cheek. Emphasizing the last sentence. I won't be lost forever.

"I'm so scared Brian"

"I know baby" he embraced me, "I know."

"I need you, Brian, don't leave me please, you're all I've got." I cried into his chest.

"Baby I won't. I never could. I love you! I will hold you. I will take you home. I'll be here every step of the way. I'll be your home." He said as my body once more broke down in tears.

I know there must be somewhere better because he always takes me there. Maybe I've found my home. I think he's my home.

#brian may #brian may angst #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may x reader fluff #brian may fluff #take me home

41 notes · View notes

toomanystoriessolittletime · 3 years

Note

Could I get my goody cowboy and this prompt:

the antagonist took you hostage, and i'm a mess, i've been beaten, badly injured trying to get them to release you, i can barely stand and i'm bleeding, but it doesn't matter, you're safe, and you're back in my arms, and i don't care about anything but getting to feel your lips on mine once more?

Please and thank you lovely 🥰

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader

Warnings: hostage situation

You didn’t know how they did it. Or who did it. You just wanted to use the restroom while being out with Jack. You had been dating for almost four months. Today you had talked him into going dancing after dinner.

“But only when I got to strip this dress off your body as soon as we’re back home, peach,” he had grinned. You had agreed without any complains.

But now, you didn’t know how much time had passed you were sitting in a chair in a dark room, your hands cuffed behind your back against it. They must have taken you in the restroom. You remembered going in, but after that everything went dark.

Why would someone take you? You never even got a parking ticket in your life, what could you have done to be taken hostage?

“Last chance to talk bitch,” the lights flickered on and you blinked your eyes open, trying to get used to the bright light. You groaned, your muscles protesting as you pulled your head up to look at the intruder. As always he was wearing a mask, so you couldn’t see his face.

“Talk about what? I have no idea what you want!” You hissed.

“Start with your boyfriend.”

You frowned.

“What about him?”

“He’s gotten to close to us. I wanna know how close.”

You were confused. Close to what?

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. He works for statesman whiskey.”

“And you believe that huh?” The man chuckled before another man entered the room, whispering something to him. You heard loud noise from outside. You hoped it was someone who could get you out of here. You were dehydrated, hungry and all you wanted was to sleep for a week.

You watched the men as they looked at you before the door burst open. You couldn’t see who it was, the men standing in front of you.

“Can’t fool me with that mask Mr. Jones,” you heard a familiar voice.

“One step closer and she does,” you capturer said.

“Don’t think so,” you heard another. oise you couldn’t name before both men screamed, launching against the intruder you were pretty sure was Jack. You closed your eyes, a sob escaping you. You couldn’t be losing Jack. You didn’t even tell him that you love him yet. What was he doing here? Was it you imagination playing tricks on you?

You blinked your eyes open just in time to see Jack drop to his knees, both of the other men lying limb on the floor. He looked at you. He was badly beaten, a nasty bruise already forming above his right eye, his lip swollen.

“Peach…” he whispered, groaning as he got back up to limb towards you.

“Jack. Jack you’re bleeding,” you noticed the bloody patch in his upper thigh. He didn’t say anything as he searched for something, you still couldn’t believe he was here. How did he get in here? He seemed to find what he was looking for, finally walking over to you. He looked at you with a expression you hadn’t seen before. He shows you the key he was holding before he walked around the chair and I cuffed you, his hands rubbing your writers gently, making you hiss in pain.

“I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry peach,” he knelt down in front of you, his eyes searching your face while his hands wandered up your arms until they framed your face.

You still were confused, but most you were concerned for the state Jack was in. He needed to see a doctor. You had questions, so many questions. Who was he? What did these men want from you? Why did the seem to know him? But all of this could wait. Under pain brought your arms and Jack helped you up, his arms pulling you against his chest and you let a fear tears escape as you held on to his back, breathing him in.

“I love you Jack,” you whispered against his neck and felt him stiffen before he kissed your hair. You looked up at him then, seeing a million emotions running over his face before he leaned down and kissed you. He kissed you like it was the last time and you parted your lips for him, wanting him closer.

“I love you too,” he murmured against your lips and you smiled.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered and you shook your head.

“You came for me,” you said.

“Would com for you even if it would kill me.”

“Don’t say that,” you shook your head. “We should get you to a doctor baby, you’re bleeding.”

“That can wait, let me hold you a little longer.”

#steph writes drabbles #prompt #Jack Daniels #agent whiskey #pedro pascal #agent whiskey x f!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #jack whiskey daniels

40 notes · View notes

landonkirbyappreciation · 3 years

Note

Hi I hope you're doing well. So I'm new to Tumblr because I want it to get on a site that doesn't have so many toxic antis on it. So far I haven't ran into any here which is a good sign and people have been really friendly which I love. But I have to say your blog and your Handon haven blog is like my new safe haven for all things Landon and Handon. I just love your gifs and thoughts.

Also I apologize if you have already answered something like this before. But ever since the start of s2 this has been on my mind. But why do people hate Landon so much? I really don't want to believe it's all because of a ship. And their reasons for hating him and saying that he's "a bad boyfriend" makes zero sense. All the reasons they have are him having basic human emotions. He gets upset when he has every right to be he's a horrible person and bad boyfriend. He goes to take a walk to avoid a fight or after a fight so that means "he's leaving her once again." I think the one I've seen the most is how back in s1 when Landon found out Hope has been lying to him about his mom. And people say "he didn't have to ask her about that right then. And he sure didn't have to walk away either." I think the only way I could agree with that is if Landon found out about hours ago and then waited until that moment to say something. But the fact is he found out only moments before hand. He was clearly hurt and upset and after finding out something like that I don't think him or anyone else could have waited at ask about that. And once he was showing basic human emotions. So it makes perfect sense that he would go take a moment for himself. But there's no doubt in my mind that if Hope actually cared about that pageant and wasn't just doing it for Lizzie, that he would have stayed even though he was upset and did the pageant with her. And the list only goes on like that, Landon shows emotions he has bad person and boyfriend. When in fact it's the exact opposite. I swear the way antis try to make Landon sound you would think there was an episode that came out that only antis got to see where Landon commits mass murder, cheats on Hope with dozen different women while drowning puppies for kicks of it.

In 3 seasons the worse thing he did was unknowingly stole a knife and then lied about it because he was scared. That's it that's the only bad thing he's done. Everything else was him doing everything he could to help while being there for Hope when no else was. Also people are so quick to say that Landon is a bad boyfriend but no one talks about the few times that Hope wasn't to best girlfriend(or they take those times and twist them to make Landon the bad guy). Like her lying to him about his mom, or her refusing to teach him how to fight because the monsters were back when that would be the perfect time for him to learn how to defend himself. Or her trying to send Landon to the prison world with Raph because the necromancer was back and planning something. Let me just say I'm not coming at Hope I love her to bits and I know her reasons for doing what she did was rooted in her fears and her not wanting Landon to get hurt. And I can understand that completely(but at the same time not really her best moments even if her heart was in the right place)and glad that at the beginning of s3 she was starting to let Landon to help and do more and not trying to put him in a cage so much(I hope I made sense with that one and that you understand what I'm trying to say with the Hope part. If not sorry). I just don't understand the Landon or Handon hate for that matter. Yes they have fights and disagreements like every other couple. But nothing that would warrant this much hate. These two love each other so much and would do anything for each other and they generally make each other better and happier. You can just see it when they're around each other and away from each other. And if im being honest they're one of the healthiest relationships in the TVDU. Okay there's so much more I could add and say. But I'm going to end this here before this ask gets way to long.

Once again sorry if you already answered something like this before. I know it could get annoying answering the same thing over again.

Hi! Thank you, I hope you’re doing well too! And that’s understandable, it’s way better here than other places, like Twitter. There can still be some hate and negativity at times, but for the most part, it’s pretty minimal. But wow, really? Aww, I’m so glad! Thank you so much!! That means a lot. ❤️

I don’t think I’ll ever understand why people hate Landon so much. I think all the hate started mostly because of ships, but has just grown from there. I also feel like people hate on him because that’s become the popular thing to do. But yeah, their reasons for hating him really don’t make any sense, there’s just no good reason to hate on him at all. Exactly, because he has feelings and has been affected by very serious things, he’s not a good person or boyfriend?? It’s so obvious that they just don’t think that Landon’s feelings matter. The times that he’s walked away were when he was really hurt, but I guess he’s not allowed to feel hurt or take care of himself? Landon isn’t one to fight, he goes to take time to calm down and to think. And it’s not like he does it all the time (despite what some people say), it’s happened a few times in extreme situations.

But yes, people have often brought up 1x14, and they don’t even try to see Landon’s side of things. People really think he should’ve waited to ask Hope? Yeah, exactly, he had just barely found out about it, how could he not have brought it up? Imagine having the kind of life that he had, where he had grown up abused and without a family or home, didn’t know who his parents were, but had that picture of Seylah and always wanted answers. He had wanted to meet her his whole life and know why she had given him up, because that affected his entire life. And then to find out that he had met her and gotten answers only to have it all wiped away? And that Hope had been lying to him about it after the issues him lying to her about the knife had caused? And how they had agreed to be honest with each other? If people can’t understand how that must have made him feel and why he was so emotional that he had to leave, and think that he should’ve just stayed at a pageant that neither him or Hope wanted to participate in, then idk what to say. And true, it’s possible if he thought Hope actually cared about the pageant that he might have forced himself to get through it. But I don’t think he should’ve been expected to either way, he was obviously very hurt and overwhelmed. He shouldn’t have had to stay when he was feeling all of that. Because it was still about his mother and his life and being lied to vs. a pageant. And Hope shouldn’t have had to stay either when she was feeling so upset and panicked too, it was Roman who convinced her to stay when she didn’t have to, which just made it worse.

And Landon’s reasons for walking away the other times were just as valid. Hope doesn’t tell him who she is for months, after he’d been struggling while she was gone, had been killing himself, and was still in love with her but didn’t know it. And then realized she’d let him be with Josie, which also might have made him question how Hope felt about him? That all must have been very shocking, but antis think he’s not allowed to be upset? Same with when he lost his brother/best friend and his powers all in one day, turning his life upside down and leaving him scared about his future with Hope. He takes time for himself in these situations and people are outraged. It’s so clear that they don’t care about his feelings at all. If he reacts to anything, even though his reactions are perfectly reasonable, they attack him. Seriously though, idk what show they’ve been watching, because they really do make him sound as if he’s done absolutely horrible things with the way they talk about him.

So true, and another reason he lied about the knife was because he felt influenced by it as well. Because he had said it was like “the knife wanted me to steal it and then it wanted me to lie.” So not even that was his fault. Exactly, he’s not done anything bad. And he’s not perfect, but he does always have good intentions and tries to do the right thing. And yep, he’s been there for Hope more than anyone too.

And I agree when it comes to Hope. I love her too, but she’s not perfect either, but no one says anything about it. They seriously do just twist everything to make Landon look bad while not acknowledging when Hope hasn’t necessarily made the best decisions. And yeah, I understand her reasons for all that she did too and that she just wanted to protect Landon. She had good intentions as well, and was also scared, so I totally get that. But some of what she’s done hasn’t always been the best for Landon, like with her lying about Seylah, or her not wanting to train Landon to fight, which would’ve been very beneficial to him (especially this last season when he was in the prison world). But yes, she has been able to handle that sort of stuff better and has let Landon do more over time, which is good. And you did make sense, I do understand what you’re saying. So I can see both Hope’s and Landon’s side of things. It just bugs me when people only ever choose to see Hope’s side while ignoring Landon’s.

Agreed, I’ll never understand the Landon or Handon hate either. And yeah, they have disagreements, but they also grow from those disagreements. Like every time they’ve had one, they talk things out and just get stronger. So it’s helped them to communicate and understand each other better and know how to move forward together. And exactly, they both make each other so happy and they bring out the best in each other. And ikr, they are one of the healthiest TVDU couples, that’s why it baffles me when people have such strong reactions when it comes to Handon, and will call them toxic, etc. Were they not around for TVD/TO? Have they not watched them? Because if they’re so bothered by such minor things with Handon, you’d think they’d explode if they saw what happened with some of the other couples from the other shows.

And it’s fine! I’ve posted about all kinds of stuff, so I may have talked about some of this before, but can’t remember tbh haha.

#answered #landon kirby #handon

19 notes · View notes

bearsfakedthemoonlanding · 2 years

Text

a journal entry

[tw: talk of suicide, religious trauma, big sad feelings]

one of the worst times of my life was a month after coming out the second time. I was 23 years old, had lived in my hometown with my parents for a year after college before moving for grad school. I was all alone in a big city, brand new culture, friends scattered around, partner all the way across the country. I was in school for therapy and doing a lot of big emotional work I'd never known how to do before, and I was about six months on T. I hadn't seen my parents in seven. I built up this coming-out for months, dreading and anticipating.

I've written before about how badly it went. I've never had my parents so deeply disappointed in me. I've written as well about Pastor Kretzschmar and the phone calls I endured. The amount of religious trauma sludge that was being unearthed in me. so many things I thought I'd gotten over.

I'm 23, my parents hate me, my youth pastor has shattered my religion, and I had to dissect myself in writing for a professor. The Tuesday of finals week I catch a sore throat. on Wednesday I turn in my final paper. on Thursday I can barely stand up.

I've been terribly sick a handful of times. MRSA and sepsis were bad, but I was 13 and had no idea how close I was to dying, so it didn't seem that bad going through it. pneumonia was more frustrating than anything-- can't lay down, can't breathe, can't stop coughing, can't go to school, can't go home from this stupid hospital, can't stop having fever dreams about snakes and panic attacks that send the nurses rushing in to check my heart monitors.

COVID was bad: the fatigue, the pain, the aches, the elephant on my chest and feathers in my lungs, and the headache that truly felt like being crushed. the feverish hallucinations, the endless trembling. the realization that i was trapped, alone, in a house with nobody who loved me within eight hundred miles and no way to pay my medical bills and just. the fear. the overwhelming fear and loneliness of it all.

catching COVID encapsulated how i felt in the aftermath of my coming out. hurt. gutted. on fire. so fucking scared. angry.

a decade ago I started putting the pieces together-- a plethora of things I knew was wrong with me, and one I finally found the words for-- my sexuality.

I remember being fifteen and keeping myself up at night trying to pray and just sobbing. sobbing because it didn't make sense and nobody would answer my questions and i was too terrified for confession and i didn't understand how i could try to hard and still be such a total and utter failure. how i could hurt everyone so bad. how i wasn't even trying to do anything.

seventeen was bad because my worst fears started manifesting. i was terrible. i was thoughtless. i was too emotional and too sensitive and somehow also too quiet and too stoic and too cold. my grandmother died. my other grandmother tried to kill herself again. she'd tried a few times in my childhood, but this was the first time she was hospitalized for it. we hated each other-- her and i-- and it broke my mom's heart that i wasn't more upset by what was happening. even though I'd internalized my role of being quiet and emotionless and not making it worse for anyone.

all of that, and i figure it can't get worse, so two months later i come out. my mother is scared, furious, loud and thundering and crying constantly. and i knew i was terrible, but seeing it is different.

when i came out again nearly seven years later, my mother was angry but my father was emotional. he started planning my funeral. i had finally done something bad enough for them to give up on me, and that manifestation slaughtered me.

I'm writing this to purge whatever sad and angry thing is trying to crawl out of my throat. I've been praying again, and involved with a church, and it's awoken someone furious and heartbroken inside of me. the kid is eleven- fifteen- seventeen and scared and shaking and pissed as hell, and I want to take her them by the hands and squeeze and tell them it's going to be okay. tell them to lash out and hit something. tell them we figure it out, but keeping it all in our gut only makes us sicker.

I've been unwell a million times. childhood me was sensitive and anxious and terrible. she didn't know how to exist in the world, and i love my parents for doing their best, but i wish they'd noticed her reading their parenting books to try and figure out what was wrong with her. i wish they'd asked her what she thought about god, found out the existentials of their religion gave her stomach aches. wish they'd asked an expert why she cried so much.

I wanted to kill myself in high school. I shook myself out of panic attacks before work and i talked my online friends down from the edge every night at 11pm before going out to drive my mom and linda home from the bar.

I didn't want to kill myself in college, but i thought about it a lot. i had an index card folded up in my wallet that i promised a nice lady named Rachel I would look at any time the thoughts got too loud. i felt the moods wash through my like waves, waited for them like clockwork, every few months there they were again. I hurt myself. I let people hurt me, and not just in ways that were healthy and fun. I was so scared of myself and couldn't even begin to see a future that made sense, a future that felt good, couldn't see anything but heavy awful dread.

twenty-five and things are better, but sometimes i feel worse. the more makes sense, the less i understand. the more i find places that hurt, the more i find people to blame, the more i understand even more and put that blame away. i find things that hurt in me and i dig my thumb in like a bruise.

another five years and i pray i'm comfortable, pray i've dug out all the tragic rotten parts of myself and set them out to dry, let them wither in the sun and turn to jerky, let the crows swoop down and carry some away, scoop up others and drop them into my pocket, carry them around to remember but not to hurt.

this has gone off the rails. i think i feel better now. in case anyone's wondering, i haven't wanted to kill myself since march 2020 (ironically). i haven't had an unprompted panic attack since october 2021. i cried half an hour ago, but that's kind of a victory too.

#ftm #trans masc #transitioning #religious trauma #queer #coming out #lgbt #journal

5 notes · View notes

jjmaybanksblog · 4 years

Text

Stress Release- John B

(Not my gif, credit for whoever created it!)

Summary: Friends with benefits; Two friends who trust each other enough to engage in sexual activity without fear of hurting the other's feelings.

Word count: 1,912

Warnings: Mentions fwb, sex, and underage drinking.

You rested on your stomach, textbook in front of you as John B joined your side. You two had been chosen to be partners for a Chemistry class project, but neither of you two had actually paid enough attention to figure out what you two we're doing.

You guys sat in silence for a minute before you exhaled loudly. "What's with the sigh?" You ground loudly, flipping yourself over and laying on your back.

"It's my senior year. I should be out in the world not giving a single fuck about anything, but I'm stressed out of my mind and I have no clue how to get rid of it." You ranted, grabbing the nearest pillow and screaming into it. John B looked at you with a confused look. "What? I'm a screamer. Not sexually, just at life in general." "I can make that sexually." He said, earning a smack from the pillow.

"Therapy?" "Tried." "Painting?" "Tried." "Going to the gym?" "Ha! You're fucking funny." John B remained quiet for a second before coming up with something. "Have you tried just hooking up with someone? You know, like a friends with benefits type thing."

Your head snapped up from it's spot as you stared at the boy with a dumbfounded look. "I'm sorry?" "Well it's just, if you need to release tension, shit like that helps a lot." John B said as he suddenly felt idiotic for bringing the idea up. You sat there for a moment, trying to process his words. "Okay but even if I wanted to I don't know who would even want to."

John B's index finger pointed to his face as you observed his gesture. "Really?and why would you want to be friends with benefits?" "I get stressed too, I help you out, you help me out." You considered his offer for a moment before agreeing on his idea.

"Okay. But we have to make a guideline." You negotiated, ripping out a piece of paper from the notebook. Now it was John B's turn to roll his eyes.

"First rule, we do not tell a single soul about this." You said, grabbing your pen and scribbling the words down. "Okay, okay. Second rule, we call each other whenever we need a release. Whenever and wherever." "No hooking up with anyone else unless either of us get

a boyfriend/girlfriend." He thought aloud.

You nodded your head, writing his words down quickly. "And the last one," you two looked at each other as you spoke in unison, "no feelings." You held the pen out towards him, giving you a questioning look. "What? We gotta make this shit official."

John B let out a chuckle as he took the pen from your hand and scribbled his name. Returning the pen to you, he adjusted himself so he was resting against the headboard. You quickly signed it, closing the notebook shut.

John B sighed softly before looking at youm "You stressed?" You quickly rose up from your spot, your legs resting on both sides of him as you straddled his lap. "You have no idea." His hands trailed up your back, one hand staying on your thigh and gently rubbing it. The other was wrapped tightly around your waist.

Your lips met halfway, he sighed in relief at the feeling of someone else's lips. The kiss was fierce and rushed, both of you wasting no time in getting your stress out.

_________________

You guys had this 'relationship' going for the last 5 months. Almost every other day you called each other. It was an odd thing for you to do. You had done it before in the past, but sex with John B was something else. There were nights where the type would change, he would take control for most of the time. Angry sex, sex in the living room, car sex, anything he wanted to do, you two did.

However, as time went on the feelings John B had began to change. He wanted to spend more time with you, and not just hook up. He wanted to find out more things about you, watch movies with you, be able to kiss you in public whenever he wanted. The at first sloppy sex slowly morphed into passionate sex. He noticed and it scared him shitless. He loved every moment he spent with you and he didn't want that to change.

He was mad at himself. That was the third rule and he broke it. He never expected it to happen, but when it did it slapped him right across the face.

You two were lying there naked, sheets covering your bare chests. You were fast asleep, your body facing him. He took in the tiny details about you, everything that he could. How sometimes your eyelashes flutter. How you'll snore sometimes. How he rests his hand on your cheek and you unknowingly lean into his touch. He buried this hole too deep and he can't get out.

You both were currently at your friend Angela's party, drunk teens were horribly dancing in the living room, couples were hooking up in the bedrooms and bathrooms. John B was drinking a shot of vodka as he saw you walk by, a red plastic solo cup in your hand. "Hey Routledge!" You winked at the boy who shyly drank from his cup.

A classmate of his walked up to John B, "Hey, what's with you and that Y/L/N chick?" The boy asked, nudging John B's shoulders. He smirked at his classmate leaning closer to him, "we're friends with benefits!" John B exclaimed, clearly tipsy and not knowing the words that are spilling out of his mouth.

The classmate smirked at the intoxicated teen, giving JB a high five, congratulating him. You were out in the backyard enjoying the night sky with Sarah Cameron.you two were laughing after watching someone run and fall into the pool.

The fun was quickly ruined as the classmate stood in front of you guys. "So Y/N, I heard you help release stress from my good old friend John B. How about you help me out?" Your face dropped in shock, the cup falling from your hand. "I'm sorry?" You asked, pretending not to understand what he was talking about.

"Oh yeah. But real shit, whenever I need something I'll give you a call." The boy sent you a wink before licking his lower lip and walking away. You stared at the ground in shock. "Are you okay?" "I don't know how to answer that." You admitted.

You stomped out of the backyard and out of the house. Stares, comments and giggles were all you noticed as you made your way through the crowded rooms. Making way to your car, you opened the door and slammed it shut. Your fists pounded down onto the steering wheel, accidentally punching the horn. You crossed your arms and leaned against the wheel. Your head fell against your arms as tears stung your eyes. You were furious at John B, but you were also angry with yourself.

During the time you had been sleeping with John B, you also began to realize how your heart would race a mile a minute with him, even before the physical contact. You had been trying to deny the feelings, 'it's just sex' you repeated to yourself over and over after every session. But to you it was something else, and that scared you.

You sped down down the road, the lights blurring from the tears, your cheeks and nose a shade of pink. Your breathing was uneven as you hicupped every now and then. Returning home, you quickly changed out of your clothes into pajamas and laid in bed. That night was the last time you and John B had an interaction for a whole month.

He would call you, but you'd let the answering machine pick up. You'd swerve him when you walked by him in the halls, catching his eye then turning around to walk the other way.

You wanted to distance yourself as much as you could. John B tried his best to apologize after his classmate reminded him that he told your secret that night at the party. He felt absolutely destroyed hearing the rumors that were spreading about you, about you both, he hated it.

Your eyes were sealed shut as you attempted to let sleep overtake your body. It was finally Friday and you just wanted to sleep for 12 hours. The sound of rain hitting your window sounded like heaven to your ears, just pure silence except for that one noise.

A soft tapping sound echoed off the window. Knowing it wasn't rain, you hesitantly opened your eyes to see John Booker Routledge holding himself as he stood in your backyard, in the pouring rain. His hair was plastered down onto his face. His clothes clung to his body. His eyes were squinted shut in hopes to not get too much water in them.

You quickly got up and pulled him through the window harshly, making him fall to the ground. His skin made a loud slapping noise as he made contact with the hardwood floor. You sighed, rubbing your forehead with the palm of your hand. "Hold on." You quickly went out of the room and walked back in with a towel. You handed it to him as you sat on the bad, John B standing there as he attempted to dry off.

"Look this isn't a guilt-trip. I just genuinely want to know if you dislike me so I can stop bothering you." He started, the towel running through his hair, drops of water flying everywhere. You sighed loudly and pitched the bridge of your nose. "I don't hate or dislike you. I hate that you spilled what we were to what's his face at the party. Do you know how many phone calls I've gotten of guys asking me to hook up with them? 24."

"What we were?" John B asked softly. "You broke your promise, you can't come back from that." You huffed, your eyes not leaving the floor. "It was just a fling." He lied, not only to you but to himself. "Not to me it wasn't." Your voice was just above a whisper.

"What?"

"Throughout the last few months things felt different. It was really fucking weird to think about, but my heart would always just... race when we spent time together. I wanted things to just be more than a fling. But I figured you just wanted it to be just that thing since you came up with the idea." you admitted. He lightly chuckled as he bent down to be face to face with you.

"Princess. I walked here to you in the rain. This is how much I love you. This," he pointed his finger between you two, "I want more than a fling. I want to be able to just walk around with you on my arm and just give you all the fucking affection I can give. And I'm sorry about the calls. I'll make sure people get the notice to-" you cut him off by quickly pressing your lips against his.

He exhaled loudly, your skin suddenly felt as if it were burning. "God I missed you." He mumbled against your lips as his thumb stroked your cheek. "Show me how much you missed me." You whispered, pulling the boy onto the bed.

204 notes · View notes

moon-in-daylight · 4 years

Note

heyy! love your fics! i've seen you take requests so i'm testing my luck here. can we please get a dhawan!master x reader fic where reader is forced to pilot the tardis (like reason w her or link with her telepathically idk) to get the master to a hospital as he's passed out and kinda dying? like some angsty action that turns out fine in the end, please? thank you

Dispensable / Dhawan!Master x reader

Summary: You’ve always felt safe by The Master’s side, but when he endangers himself to save your life, you start wondering if his efforts to protect you are really worth it. Especially now that his life depends on you learning how to pilot a TARDIS.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Blood, weapons, injuries, insecure!reader, a little angst maybe.

A/N: Anon, I’m sorry this took me so long. I’ve just been out of inspiration lately and this is what came out after a month of writing. I hope you still like it though 💖

It wasn’t unusual for The Master’s plans to go terribly wrong sometimes, as it wasn’t unusual that you regularly got hurt in the middle of your adventures as a consequence.

Luckily, it was nothing too serious most of the times. Maybe you would get some scratches while running on the quiet days, some scars on the most serious days when you had to face some extremely angry alien civilization… And, in the worst scenarios, you had almost encountered your reaper face to face.

It was inevitable to suffer some unfortunate accidents while travelling inside the TARDIS. You knew that from the very start, that your least developed anatomy would barely be able to follow a Time Lord’s way of living, especially one’s with so much love for chaos and destruction. You were well aware that while you travelled with The Master death would always be keeping an eye on you. Yet, you gladly took the risks that staying in his ship entailed.

From the first moment you had stepped a foot inside that console room, you had known there would never be a way of turning back to your old life. Not after seeing the things, places and eras he could show you with the simple pull of a lever. At first, the main reason you stayed with him was the time travelling.

Though it was extremely dangerous and you feared The Master could abandon anytime and anywhere when he got bored of you, you decided to endure his rage filled words about your species and his several rules on how you should behave to try and get him to show you the stars. He wasn’t an easy person to deal with, but you had grown to both love and deal with him, and you liked to think he had done the same with you too.

After more than a year aboard of his ship, you trusted him almost blindly, confident that he would do anything he could possibly do to try and get you uninjured of the deadly situations you faced daily.

He was way more gentle and caring now than he was when you first met him, though that was something he would never admit out loud to you. But his change of behavior was evident. You noticed it by the little thing. By the way he always kept an eye on you when you were outside of the TARDIS, on how he threatened anyone that seemed barely interested in hurting you… He almost seemed a different person now. He even took care of your wounds when he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt, and making sure you got the fastest recovery possible instead of leaving you to deal with them on your own.

You supposed he had gotten used to having a ‘human pet’, and that he took the trouble of taking care of you mainly because he didn’t want to have to take another human in his TARDIS to replace you if you were ever missing. Too much inconvenience to have to take another pet now that he had finally grown somewhat comfortable with your presence… Either way, and despite the many risks you faced time and time again, you always felt save by his side knowing that he wouldn’t let you die that easily.

While being by his side, you barely could remember what fear felt like.

That was, of course, until you found yourself in the worst situation you could have pictured.

The day had started as any other, with The Master taking you to New Earth in the middle of the First New World War, following your request of wanting to know more about the future of your species. The Master had told you repeatedly that humanity’s history was not worth seeing, that they were little more than amoebas. But your curious self had insisted him so many times about wanting to see your future that he had eventually given in.

You didn’t exactly liked what you saw there. The cruelty, the hatred that your own race processed against their own… The senseless death and unnecessary barbarism between those of their own blood… The Master had warned you that it wouldn’t be pretty, but considering the fact you were already used to face every possible form of chaos by his side, you had been sure that nothing he could show you could be worse than the damage you had already seen him cause to distant planets and civilizations.

Now that you ran for your life in the middle of an open battlefield, hand in hand with The Master as he tried to guide you to the safety of his TARDIS under a never-ending rain of bullets, you realized your mistake. You had never imagined a war could be so bloodthirsty, so atrocious… The Master hadn’t said it, but you were sure he was jealous of the destruction and despair caused by your species.

The two sides of the conflict were ready to do anything to get even the slightest advantage over their enemies, and of course, The Master had decided he should turn such horrible situation in his favor. He had manipulated both, the leader of the resistance and the supreme general of the new Earth’s forces, to make them believe the other would throw an offensive in the middle of the night. That way, while everyone fought to death in the middle of the battlefield, you and him could sneak into each side’s bases and steal whatever could be useful or valuable.

The Master’s plan was executing itself perfectly, to the point where it was all being too good to be true. Everyone had seemed to believe him and, though you were suspicious that things were never that easy with him, he appealed to your specie’s stupidity to justify the fact that no major complications had met your little scam. If everything went as he had planned, you would be in and out of each fortress in barely ten minutes, with your pockets full and the armory of the TARDIS completely renewed with new nuclear weapons. But just when the both of you were emptying the armory of the rebel band, two guards caught you red-handed.

Apparently, before indulging their soldiers into a bloodshed battle that would likely finish all live on the planet, the leaders of each side had decided to make things the diplomatic way. And for the first time in a very long time, they had decided to unite forces against a common enemy, you and The Master. You would’ve been proud of them, had your life not been in such danger.

Now, getting yours and The Master’s head was top priority to every living being in that planet, and you almost doubted you would be able to make it to his ship alive.

You had ran alongside The Master from angry crowds hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, but never before had you felt so trapped. The TARDIS was somewhere nearby, and every step you took closer to her was a sigh of relief that left your already tired lungs. Bullets and all kinds of projectile weapons were thrown in your direction, and The Master had to keep you even closer than usual to his body to prevent you from getting hurt.

When the disguised aspect of the TARDIS finally met your eye, you thought you had never felt happier in your life, but your legs were beginning to get tired and you felt yourself losing all the strength in your body, struggling to stabilize the rhythm of your breathing.

One last push, you repeated yourself internally as you forced your body to not give up, to resist until you could collapse on the safety of the TARDIS’ ground.

With every passing second, you could see your destination getting closer, but that little time felt eternal as you did your best not to lose focus and sprint those last meters for the sake of your life.

You only let go of The Master’s hand so you could extend your arms to push the TARDIS’ doors open, get inside and quickly close them after you. But the only thing your hands laid on was the ground as you tripped and fell only a few steps away from the ship.

Your heart sunk in your chest as your bad luck struck in, realizing that you didn’t have enough time to stand up from the ground before the hordes of soldiers reached you, probably killing you instantly. This time there was no way out, and you closed your eyes while you met your unavoidable fate.

This wasn’t a bad way to die, you supposed. You hadn’t lived too long, but you had lived your life to the fullest, running away through the stars with a psychopath alien and visiting places most of your kind couldn’t even dream about. You were at peace with yourself, suspecting that The Master wouldn’t be too affected by your loss and knowing that you had already lived longer than what could be expected of such a fragile being living such a dangerous life.

You were ready to let the rest of your body hit the floor and say goodbye forever, but then The Master’s hands gripped you tight from each side of your body and pushed you up and forwards, giving you the last boost you needed to reach the TARDIS’ doors.

“What are you doing?!” His angry tone reprimanded you as he positioned himself behind you to shield you from your persecutors. “Run!”

Taking The Master’s hand in yours again, you finally made it to the insides of the TARDIS, the comfort of the familiar console room greeting you as she hummed happily at your arrival. As soon as the doors closed, you threw yourself onto the Time Lord, surrounding him with your arms to pull him into a victory hug, or more a thankfulness hug for having saved your life seconds earlier.

You squeezed him tight as you let fear crawl out of your body, starting to feel safe again by his side. For a moment you had truly believed he wouldn’t turn back for you, that he would simply get inside his ship and forget about the fact you had ever existed. But now, after watching him risking his own life to save yours, you realized there wasn’t a single place in the universe where you could really be endangered if you were with him.

As your breathing calmed and you stopped hearing the throbbing of your heart buzzing in your ears, you heard him hiss slightly at the same time you felt the lower part of your torso dampening. Getting away from him, you discovered your shirt was covered in blood, and immediately, you lifted it up to find there was no wound underneath.

Looking again in The Master’s direction and finding that his belly was also covered in the thick liquid, you didn’t let him time to say anything before undoing the lower buttons of his shirt and discovering a bullet wound on the right side of his torso.

Blood was quickly coming out of it, and you were quick to tear the lower side of your shirt so you could use the fabric to press against the bullet hole and stop the bleeding. You had always seen that work in movies, but the material was soon soaked and you realized you couldn’t stop him from bleeding out when you found a second wound a few centimeters above the first one.

“You’re going to bleed to death…” Fear was starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your mind rushed trying to find a solution to the mess developing right in front of you.

“Don’t exaggerate.” He said, as if he had just gotten an insignificant scratch. “I will be fine.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking some piece of clothing you had left in the room earlier and placing it over his belly in hopes it would do something more than the piece of fabric you had used earlier. That didn’t seem to stop the bleeding either and you started to become more and more desperate. “You need to regenerate.”

The Master frowned at you, and then you realized the weak state in which he was. In normal situations, he would have look way more threatening and powerful with the simple act of just lying his eyes on you. Now, looking at the titanic effort he put in simply trying to stay awake was enough for you to pity him.

When you thought of The Master, many adjectives came to your mind, but pity had never before been a word you would’ve use him to describe him.

“I’m not going to regenerate for something so stupid.” He immediately refused, and you cursed him internally as you guided him to the nearest couch, hand still pressing on the side of his body as you helped him sit down as comfortably as possible.

“You’re dying.” You tried to reason with him, but his stubbornness was too much to handle at the moment. He didn’t say a thing as he let the weight of his body collapse on the piece of furniture, and you watched him in desperation. “Please, just do the goddamn thing!”

You pressed the fabric in your hands harder against his wounds, wishing that he would listen to you for once in his life. When you got no answer from him, you lifted your stare to his face again, realizing he had lost consciousness.

“No, no, no, no...” You muttered as you shook his body slightly, trying to get him to wake up. “Wake up, come on. Just wake up and regenerate!”

Seeing that he wouldn’t respond, you immediately decided to check for his heartbeat. Or more correctly, heartbeats. Placing two fingers on the side of his neck, you found that the rhythm of his two hearts was starting to get very similar to the one your single heart made, and then you realized just in how much danger he was.

You were no doctor, but he had already lost a lot of blood. If you did nothing, you feared he could be dead in less than a few hours.

You had been under The Master’s care and protection for so long that now that you were the one that had to look after him, you felt completely helpless. How were you supposed to help him? All you knew about Time Lord’s biology was that they could regenerate when in life or death situations, and he had refused to do it, so you were out of ideas.

“Please, help me…” You felt your eyes watering as you cupped his face in between your hands, shaking it from side to side slightly in yet another attempt to bring him back in himself and get him to help you save him.

You didn’t get any response from him, but you heard the TARDIS humming intensely at you. And you felt relieved to at least have received a single answer to your plea, even if it was by some piece of seemingly inanimate, alien technology. Turning your head to the center of the room, you watched the console lights flicker as she indicated you to get closer to the controls of the ship. Understanding what she wanted you to do, you looked at The Master one last time.

“I’ll never forgive you if you dare to die on me.”

He looked as calmed as you had ever seen him, eyes closed and facial expressions completely relaxed. Your last thought while looking at him before rushing to the controls, was that you wished you could see that serenity in him more often, in better situations that the one taking place now of course.

Placing yourself before the buttons and levers of the console, you found yourself completely lost. You had seen The Master piloting the TARDIS billions of times, but looking down at the controls you couldn’t recall any of the movements he made while doing so… Was it really that hard to show you how to pilot the TARDIS? Hadn’t he thought it could be useful in a situation like this one? And why couldn’t you have a better memory? How could you have seen him doing so many times and not have the slightest idea of what to do?

You searched around the console in hopes of finding a piloting manual, some instructions, or at least some note handwritten by the dying Time Lord that could give you some clue on how to put the time travelling ship in motion. But when you found nothing and realized you wouldn’t even know when or where to take the ship to if you knew how to pilot it, you started to feel impotence taking over you.

The Master was dying because of you, because he had stopped to help you, a simple, useless human. And you weren’t able to do anything to help him, to make things right. You were the one dying, not him.

Feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat you wished you could turn back time and stop him from helping you get to the ship.

How ironic was that? You were inside a time travelling machine, desperate to go back in time, and you simply couldn’t. You had never felt so small and worthless in your whole life as the tears started to fall down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do…” You looked back towards The Master, his unconscious body laid on the other side of the room. Your eyes examined him with an apologetic look for a few seconds before the TARDIS’ hum called you again.

Following the sound she made, you realized she was trying to draw you attention to one specific lever of the console, one she had pointed out by illuminating it with a characteristic purple light. Assuming she was trying to guide you, you got closer to the lever and pulled it without thinking it twice, desperate to at least try something to fix the situation.

When you heard the approving hum of the TARDIS and noticed the way she illuminated a close button in the same purple light, you proceeded to push that button too, and then the next one she pointed you to. You honestly didn’t know what any of those controls were doing or if you would be able to follow her instructions well enough to get The Master somewhere safe, but you had no time to waste with doubt and second-guessing.

You rushed through the console’s controls, pulling and pressing as soon as the TARDIS indicated you what it was that you had to do next. After pulling one final lever, you noticed the ground beneath your feet tremble as the ship entered the time vortex. You looked back at The Master one last time as the ship landed in an unknown location and time.

“Is it done?” You asked her, quickly wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes seconds earlier.

She gave you yet another hum, and you supposed you would need to go outside and figure out if you had succeeded in piloting the TARDIS to the right place. When you ran outside and found yourself inside a building that seemed like what you knew as a hospital, you finally let out the breath that you had been holding.

By the time The Master woke up again, he was lying inside a hospital bed, a sharp pain on his side and a little dizziness caused by whatever substance they were putting into his IV, which he quickly took off without even acknowledging what it was. He attempted to get off the bed to try and find out in which planet he was, or how he had gotten there, but he found himself too weak to move, the stabbing pain on his side making him desist from it.

Giving up and lying his head back on the pillow again, he caught a glimpse of something that look like a bracelet on his right wrist. When he looked at it, he realized his data was printed on that bracelet:

SPECIES: Time Lord

AGE: ?

NAME: Doctor

He immediately frowned at the name of his older enemy on his own hand, and for a second he theorized about being dead and having been sent to the profundities of hell as a punishment for his numerous crimes during his extremely long existence. For a second he feared he would have to live as The Doctor for the rest of eternity.

If there was in fact something similar to hell, he was sure this was it.

Your entrance in the room interrupted his thoughts as he sighed in relief by seeing you. He let out the air too fast out of his lungs, and he couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him after you realized he had gained consciousness back again, closing the door behind you.

“Better than ever, love.” He said with that smug smile on his face, trying to ignore the intense ache on the side of his torso.

You looked at him for a few seconds, upset that he would act as if nothing had happened. Well, he was The Master. He was an expert in being annoying, you thought. What else could you expect from him?

“I hope it’s really hurting, you thick idiot.” You spitted out, not holding yourself back as you bitterly let him know just how angry you were with him. Had you been anyone else, you wouldn’t have probably lived to tell about it “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! I thought you were dying!”

“Dying is not something I’m very good at, as you can see.” The Master casually said with a pompous smirk on his face, one you wished you could slap off him. You simply decided to ignore his comment.

“Why didn’t you just regenerate? Do you have any idea how many trouble you would have spare me?”

“I thought you liked this face, pet.” He raised an eyebrow at you, arrogance showing all over his face as you couldn’t help but blush slightly. It was true you found him attractive, but he clearly didn’t need you to boost his already enormous ego.

“I would have rather have you alive with a different face than dead with this one.”

For barely a second you could see the façade in The Master’s eyes fall apart as you said those words. You knew he wasn’t very keen on talking about feelings, but you hoped he knew you were being serious.

“How did we arrive here?” He quickly changed the subject. “And why am I The Doctor now?”

“I brought us here. The TARDIS taught me to pilot her” You started to explain, watching the surprised look on his face as he tried to imagine you maneuvering his ship. “And well, when they asked me what your species was so they could give you the right medication, I thought I would tell them the truth, but when they asked me for your name I figured telling them they were treating one of the most dangerous criminals in all of time and space wasn’t such a great idea.”

“I would have rather you letting me die before letting anyone think I was her.” He rolled his eyes and ripped off the bracelet on his wrist, clearly annoyed by the idea of being mistaken for his former best friend.

“If you hadn’t stopped for me back then I wouldn’t have had to do it!” You pointed out in frustration, tired of him only complaining. You knew The Master would never thank you for saving his life, but those comments he made were starting to get you on your nerves. The Time Lord started at you in confusion for a few seconds, eyes glued to your face as he tried to decode what was going through your mind before forcing himself inside of it. After staying silent for several seconds, you decided to ask right away. “Why would you risk your life for me anyway?”

“You’re my pet, dear. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” He replied as if it was an obvious thing. When you had first met him, you had never thought you would hear him speak that way about a human.

“Not if it costs you your own life!”

“Did you really want me to abandon you?” He asked, tone deadly serious and eyes inspecting you carefully.

“No, but…” Sighing, you tried to find a proper way to express what was going on inside your head. “I would never want you to get hurt because of me. I’m only human, and my life is so ephemeral and fragile… Your life is way bigger and exciting than what mine could ever be, and you shouldn’t put it at risk because of me. I’m dispensable.”

While hearing your words, The Master regretted every time he had told you how inferior you were because of your ‘human condition’. He had seen you as dispensable at first, but he no longer considered you anything other than his equal, his partner in crime. The fact that you had grown to see yourself as something of less worth than him was almost as painful as the injury on his side.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again.” He warned you in what almost sound like a threatening tone. “You’re not dispensable. If you were I wouldn’t have you in my TARDIS. I did what I did, and I would do it again if I had to, love. I promised to take care of you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, no matter the cost. Is that understood?”

A little taken aback but moved by his words, you simply nodded, trying to regain composure again.

“Good, now help me get out of here.” Without giving you a second to react, he immediately attempted to get out of the mattress. You quickly rushed to his side to try and get him to lay back again.

“What are you doing? You’re still not ready to go!” You tried to convince him to stay in the hospital for a little longer, to give himself some time to fully recover. Deep down you knew everything you’d try would be useless, knowing that he would run away from that room at the first chance he got. He would probably even want to go plan his next heist right after arriving the TARDIS, as if nothing had ever happened.

“It won’t take long for the staff to discover you lied about my identity, and they’ll want some explanations.” He began to explain to you. “We need to be gone by the time they arrive.”

Closing your eyes, you realized he was right. That was one of the few inconveniences of travelling around space and time causing chaos and destruction, you couldn’t stay anywhere for too long if you didn’t want to get caught, and The Master was a wanted man in practically every corner of the universe.

“Okay, we are leaving.” The Master’s face was adorned with a pleased smile as he heard your words. “But don’t even think about getting into trouble for the next few days. You’re going to get a full recovery first. You have to promise me.”

“I promise you, pet.” He stated as he leaned onto you to use your body as support when he got up.

“Oh, and I’m piloting the TARDIS, by the way.” You added, gaining a warning look from him. “What? You are going to need a lot of rest in the next few days and I have to practice in case I have to pilot her again.”

#Dhawan!Master #Dhawan Master #Dhawan!Master x reader #Sacha Dhawan #Dhawan Master x reader #Dhawan!Master x you #Dhawan Master x you #Doctor who fanfiction

103 notes · View notes

xxwritemeastoryxx · 4 years

Text

Untold Future 4

Clarity

Author: xxwritemeastoryxx

Pairings: Elijah Mikaelson x OC

Word Count: 2.5K

Warnings: Here is a gore free chapter. These will be very few and far between.

Author’s Note: Yay! It’s Friday and here is another update! This chapter had been partially written well before I even finished Forgotten Alliance. Hell there are several chapters that are partially written. ANYWAYS! I do hope you guys enjoy this one!

Feedback gives me life and motivation for future things. ♥

"We should talk about Hope's dreams." Klaus said as he walked into Elijah's room. He had barely taken note that his brother had been preoccupied with what he was currently reading. When he stopped in front of Elijah's bed, he realized what his brother had been doing. "You've found her contract."

Elijah looked up from the paragraph he had been reading. He was trying to read each line carefully, looking for anything and everything that would give him something to work with. But so far there was nothing standing out to him.

"Only moments ago." Elijah said with a nod. "What did you see in Hope's dreams?"

Klaus sighed. There was no easy way to tell his brother what he needed to. "Going into her dreams confirmed everything. I watched as my daughter ran into a building looking for her Aunt. When we found her," Klaus shook his head wanting to spare his brother from the details that he had seen. "While I would do anything to help you find away to get Elizabeth back, I'd rather not have my daughter having dreams of her."

Elijah looked off to the side. Part of him hoped that whatever dreams Hope had weren't of reality. That if anything they'd be glimpses of Elizabeth and nothing of the truth that Klaus had seen. After a moment, Elijah nodded.

"It is what is best for your daughter." He looked over at Klaus.

Klaus could easily see the hurt in Elijah. May it have been in his words or even the way he looked away to look at nothing in particular. His brother was in pain as well, even if he wasn't physically in pain. And here Klaus was making the decision to cut off the only way that Elijah may get a glimpse of Elizabeth.

"If there was another way," Klaus shook his head. "I wouldn't be doing this. I fear for what Hope might see."

Elijah's jaw clenched at the words. The words had ignited something with in the bond. While Elizabeth may have closed off her side of things as much as she could, it was still there. Anger pulled through Elijah at the thought of what Klaus must have seen.

Elijah ran his hand along his chin as he tried to calm the fire that was beginning to rage of control within him. His mate was being tortured and there was nothing he could do to save her. "I'll find another way. It may be time to follow clues elsewhere."

Klaus nodded his head in understanding. He knew that eventually his brother would decide to leave in search for Elizabeth. He just selfishly hoped it wouldn't be just days after they had been reunited. He placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.

"You do what you need to to ensure Elizabeth's return home." Without another word, Klaus left the room.

Elijah watched as his brother had walked out of the room before his eyes landed back on the contract in front of him. He lifted the page he had been reading before Klaus had come into the room. "Give me something, Elizabeth." He said to himself as he dived back into the contract.

Hours had passed since Klaus had left the room and Elijah hadn't stopped going over the contract. Scattered beside him were the several pages that made up the contract. His eyes must have scanned the words repeatedly, looking for something, anything that would help him find Elizabeth. But Elizabeth had thought of everything. Every single detail Elijah believed would help in some way was mentioned in the contract.

"That doesn't look like light reading." Rebekah said as she leaned against Elijah's door frame. "And by the looks of it you haven't slept a wink."

"How can one sleep while going through Elizabeth's contract?" Elijah asked as he never took his eyes off of the paper her was currently holding in his hand.

Rebekah sighed as she entered his room. "By how intensely you are looking at it, am I right to assume there are no loopholes?" She asked as she sat the edge of the bed and picked up one of the pages.

Elijah shook his head. "She thought of everything." He placed the page down and picked up another. "Every possible reason to ensure this deal would be made."

"That would explain why the witch can't tell us anything." She said shaking her head. "Can't Freya remove the compulsion from her?"

Reaching over, Elijah picked up another sheet before handing it to Rebekah. "We try anything and Jess will take her own life. Ask the wrong question and Jess will warn us."

Rebekah stared at Elijah in disbelief before she quickly read over the page. "Elizabeth all but insured her death at even the slightest mention of the spell tied to Elizabeth's humanity. What the bloody hell was she thinking when she wrote this?"

"My cure." Elijah said softly as he placed the last page down. "She included each of us in some form to ensure that she wouldn't back out from this. Malakai and Kol would become Jax's if she so much as hesitated to uphold this contract. We were to be left alone completely once she handed herself over."

Rebekah shook her head once more. "Hayley is going to be upset to know that we were all in there, including Hope."

"Hope isn't-" Elijah stopped himself for a moment as realization him. Elizabeth would never put Hope in harms way. Even if it was a way to ensure she'd go through with her plan.

"Isn't what?" She asked looking at her brother confused.

Without saying a word, Elijah stood from his spot and quickly made his way out of the room. An eyebrow raised on Rebekah's face as he did. Standing she followed her brother out of the room, hoping to get an answer. She followed all the way to Freya's room.

Freya had been pouring over the spell book once more when her siblings had come rushing into her room. "Is everything okay?"

She noticed how frantic Elijah looked in that moment. She could also tell he hadn't gotten any sleep since he had woken from his nightmare. Her eyes looked over at Rebekah who shrugged her shoulders.

"Please tell me you haven't found or done the spell to keep Hope from Visitng Elizabeth." That had probably been the fast words had ever left his mouth.

"I haven't yet." Freya said as she looked between the two. "It needs to be done right before she goes to bed tonight. What's going on?"

Elijah took a seat across from her. "Elizabeth said she never intended for Hope to see her that way." Elijah began. "That to me means she had some intention for Hope to in fact see her."

"But doesn't that go against the rules Elizabeth spoke about?" Freya asked with a raised brow.

"I was able to find the location of the contract. I've read every word of that document at least a dozen times. Not once was there a mention of the necklaces or even Hope. There was no mention of her interfering in any way. We were all mentioned expect for our niece." There was a slight excitement in his voice that his sisters could easily pick up on.

"Hope is the loophole to the contract." Rebekah said looking at Elijah, finally realizing what he had.

"But how does this work when Elizabeth doesn't have the charm with her?" Freya asked holding Elizabeth's up.

"Maybe one-sided is all we need." Elijah said hopeful. "If Hope can open doors and at least look out windows, she may just be able to give us the insight we need. Even if I entered her dreams, this would give us the advantage Jax won't see coming."

Rebekah sighed. "Before we get too excited about this, need I remind you that there is still her parents we need to talk to about this?" She bit down on her bottom lip for a moment. "There is also something Veronica said that we might have to take into consideration."

"I'm sure we'd be able to convince Klaus and Hayley of this plan. She'd always have me or her parents to keep her from seeing things she shouldn't. And if this is what Elizabeth wanted to, they have to take that into consideration." Elijah said as he looked at Rebekah. "As for what you've overheard Veronica say is something that you should enlighten us on."

Rebekah braced herself for this one. She was hoping that she wouldn't have to tell Elijah and it would come from Veronica herself. "I overheard her tell Malakai that Elizabeth is going to be gone for three years.”

Elijah’s face fell at Rebekah’s words. “And how did she learn of this?”

“The letter Elizabeth wrote her,” Rebekah began. “Elizabeth told her that for three years she’d have to keep Malakai in check.”

Elijah shook his head. After the hope and excitement of possibly finding a way to save Elizabeth, it was shot down by the simple fact of time. “Where is Veronica now?”

“Out with Vincent.” Freya said with a nod. “She needed time away from the compound.”

Elijah stood from his seat. “When she returns, please ask her if I can borrow the letter for a few moments.”

“What are you going to do?” Freya asked as he began walking out of the room.

“Freshen up a bit.” He said looking over his shoulder. “Then I’m going to see this warehouse Elizabeth used. Perhaps by the time I return, I’ll have some more information.”

_____

Elizabeth sat in the corner of her cell. Her back leaning right into the edge of it. Her eyes wandered around the cell and even past the cell door. Every detail of it her eyes had taken it in.

While she looked like a mess in that moment, she was healed. Maybe not back to her usual strength thanks to the lack of blood consumption, but she looked better than she had hours ago. Dirt caked her skin along with blood and sweat. How she would just enjoy a shower in that moment.

As her thoughts lingered on the thought of being cleaned, she picked up on the soft footsteps that approached her. Her eyebrow rose as she took the sound in. They were familiar to her ears and it almost caused a smirk to pull at her lips.

She hadn't moved from her spot even as they had come closer to her cell. Over the last several days, this is what she had been looking forward to. It wasn't the moments where she was being tortured or the fact that she had seen familiar faces while being tormented. It was this very vision that Jess had given her on her last day in New Orleans that she had been clinging on to that told her she was on the right track.

"Aunt Liz?" Hope's voice called out the moment her footsteps stopped a few feet away from her cell.

"One more down, kid." Elizabeth said without moving from her spot.

The moment Hope stepped in front of the cell, her eyes widened. She could see how differently her Aunt looked. May it have been the lack of blood or the fact she'd been tormented the last several days, this was the first time Hope actually saw her face.

Hope walked over to the bars and instantly walked through them. At first it startled her until she realized it wasn't a bad thing. She ran over to Elizabeth's side. But the moment she reached Elizabeth and tried to hug her, Hope couldn't feel her.

"It's not going to work that way." Elizabeth said as she watched her. "Don't have the necklace with me."

"How can I help?" Hope asked as she stepped back and sat down on the ground next to Elizabeth.

"You already are Hope." She said with a nod. "It's still early. I'm assuming you haven't woken up yet."

Hope shook her head. "I couldn't sleep last night."

"You were smart to bring your dad last night." Elizabeth offered as she adjusted herself in her spot.

"Dad didn't want Uncle Elijah to see you." She said with a nod of her head.

Elizabeth's eyes met Hopes. She could see the worry in the girls eyes. "Yeah, I don't know how well your Uncle would have taken seeing me like that. He's angry right now."

"How come you can feel his emotions, but Uncle Elijah doesnt?" Hope asked.

Elizabeth huffed a laugh. "Their clouded. I've got vervain, wolvesbane, and even good ol' human sedatives running through my veins half the time. The other half, it's Jess' spell. He doesn't need to feel what I'm feeling."

Hope looked around the cell. "Why did you leave us?"

"Even vampires keep their word." Elizabeth shrugged. "I made a deal with someone to get your Uncles cures for my bite. Now I have to keep my end of the deal."

"Can't you escape?" Hope wanted to find out as much as possible. She wasn't sure when she'd wake up or when they'd come and drag Elizabeth out of the room.

"That's against the rules, Hope. Plus, I'm too weak to make an escape right now. I need a lot more blood than what they are giving me." Elizabeth's mouth watered at the thought of blood. The veins under her eyes even made themselves known. The craving of blood was harder now. At Elizabeth's eyes, Hope got up and took a few steps back, causing Elizabeth to laugh. "I can't hurt you when you visit. This is just a dream."

Hope eyed her Aunt for a moment. "Like the spell Freya did."

"Something like that." Elizabeth shrugged. "Anything interesting going on at Home?"

Elizabeth figured if they were going to have these little visits, she'd make the best of them. She wanted to know what was going on just as much as Hope wanted to know where Elizabeth was to help her. There was only so much either of them could do.

"Mom and dad want to have Aunt Freya place a spell on me." She frowned.

"What spell?" Elizabeth asked.

"To stop me from seeing you." At that, Elizabeth sat up.

"Has your Uncle Elijah found the contract?" She shouldn't have asked but she needed to know.

"I don't know." She admitted.

Elizabeth looked up at the ceiling before looking back at Hope. "I'm gonna need you to wake up kid." Hope had already started shaking her head, but Elizabeth continued. "This is how you are going to help me. You're going to wake up and when you do, you are going to find your Aunt and tell her I said not to sever the link."

"What happens if they sever it?" Hope's eyes widened.

"I lose my loophole."

As a reminder, the normal Always and Forever, Stag Tag, and The Originals Tag lists do not apply to this one. If you would like to be added to the list, don’t hesitate to ask!

Untold Future:

@alka16555 @chiefdirector @winchestert101 @ministark @mschellehitt @xanderling @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived

26 notes · View notes

thebookwormfairy · 5 years

Text

Captain the Retired Police Dog Part 3

I had no idea this would turn out like this, but here we are part 3

Just a quick warning this chapter is a bit sadder, but there will be plenty of fluff and love to try and make up for it. Also like 1 curse word

The next morning was a sad one for Marinette

She didn't want to leave her baby boy in the hotel room for the better part of the day

But she has no choice they're going to some museums today and they really don't want dogs in there no matter how well behaved they are

So Marinette filled up Captain's food and water and headed out

Marinette: Bye Captain be good we'll be back around 2, I left animal planet on for you

Captain gave Marinette a lick on the cheek as a goodbye and watched as his girl left without him

Even though Marinette didn't have Captain with her she tried to make the best out of the situation

She had to admit without Captain or Damian the trip felt a lot more lonely

The first stop was to an art museum.

Marinette loved it she was so inspired by all the pieces

She even got a couple of new designs out on it

Next came the superhero museum

Marinette loved that and it even helped her come up with a plan to stop Hawkmoth for good

It turns out that cities or other heroes can make formal request to get help from the Justice League to help with problems

And even though her and her team have grown as superheros Hawkmoth has also grown as a villian

Marinette fears the day that Hawkmoth decides to try and recreate Hero Day again

She knew she didn't have enough allies to call on anymore.

After the rift of the class the boy people she feels she can call upon now are Luka, Kagami, and occasionally Chloe

Chloe has gotten a lot better and she doesn't torment Marinette anymore

She mostly just keeps to herself and Sabrina now

She sometimes talks to Marinette too, but she wouldn't exactly call them friends yet

The next museum was local history museum

That was where Lila thought it was best place to have the "talk" she's been meaning to have with Marinette

Lila: Oh is poor little Marinette lonely without her stupid dog

Marinette: What do you want Lila. I literally haven't done anything to you. I stopped trying to exposed you, you took away all my friends in class, what more could you possibly want?

Lila: You silly stupid bitch. I may have done all that but do you really think I'm done? I won't stop until you're completely alone friendless, familyless, and dogless.

Marinette: What does that mean?

Lila: You just better watch the ones you love Dupen-Cheng. We wouldn't want anything to happen to them now would we. And you know how easily somebody could be akumatized nowadays

Lila walked away leaving Marinette shaken for the rest of the day

Tikki tried to reassure her chosen but there's only so much she can do when she's forced to stay inside a bag

Tikki leaned into Marinette's leg hoping to show some comfort to the poor girl who had to grow up way before her time

Marinette numbly: Thanks Tikki

Luckily for Marinette that was the last museum of the day, and before she knew it Marinette was back in her hotel room hugging Tikki and Captain close to her as she cried

Captain hated this it was like nothing he could do could help his girl

He didn't even want to think about what possibly could have happened to but her in this state

Marinette was still crying when she's got a call from Damian

Marinette was going to hit ignore but Tikki stopped her

Tikki: You should talk to him Marinette I know he'll make you feel better.

Captain budge her with his head to show his encouragement

Marinette just nodded her head trying to calm her breathing before answering her phone.

Damian: Hey Angel Titus and I are out fro-

Marinette in a broken voice: Da-Damian.

Damian suddenly on high alert: What's wrong Marinette?

Marinette tried to think about what to tell him, but she realized all she wanted was to be held in his arms

Marinette: Can you please just come up to my room?

Damian: Of course Angel what room and floor on you on?

Marinette told him and Damian went running with Titus at his heels.

Damian was barely aware what was going on around him until he was standing in front of his Angel's door. He could hear her sobbing through the closed door.

Damian was suddenly filled with the need to hurt whoever put his Angel in this state

Damian pushed his thoughts of murder aside and knocked on Marinette's door

As soon as Marinette opened the door she rushed into Damian's arms

Damian didn't know what to do, but he did what felt right

He wrapped his arms around the girl he's come to love so quickly, guiding them back into her room before any of her classmates can see them and does his best to close her door behind them

Captain seeing Damian struggle got up from his place on the bed and used his nose to close the door for Damian

Damian: Thanks Captain.

Damian guided Marinette back to her bed

Maneuvering them so they were now sitting on the bed Damian continued to hold Marinette close as she cried

Damian kept silent and just let Marinette get everything out of her system

The only time Damian moved was to press light kisses to the side of her head.

Titus and Captain also got in on the cuddle action surrounding Marinette silently letting her know that they too were there for her

After what felt like forever Marinette pulled away from Damian enough to see his face

Marinette: Sorry about that Damian I guess I ruined our date huh?

Damian wiping a tear from her cheek: Not at all Angel. What happened?

Marinette: Dont worry about it Damian. It's not important

Damian: If it made you cry then it's important and I want to hear about it

Marinette stay quite for a minute before she finally broke down and told him everything. About Lila's lies, about how the friends she'd known almost all her life choose someone they just met over her, about the feeling of isolation, and about Lila's threats.

Damian: I won't let Lila hurt you or anybody you love Marinette. Before she can even try I'll yeet her to the sun

Marinette letting out a giggle: Did you really just say yeet?

Damian chuckling: I thought it would cheer you up

Marinette still giggling: You were right

Damian: Do you still want to go out tonight, or do you want to stay here watch a movie and cuddle

Marinette: I think I want to cuddle

Damian: excellent choice habibata, and I know the perfect movie

Marinette: Oh really what's that

Damian messed with his phone connecting it to the tv

Marinette waited patiently for Damian to show her the perfect date movie and much to her surprise it's the 1999 Mummy

Marinette was a little skeptical but Damian was completely right

It was funny action pack and had a pretty good romance

Seriously guys this is my favorite movie

Marinette: I have to admit that was a great movie Damian

Damian: I know right it was one of the first movies I saw when I first moved to Gotham

Captain stared at this strange new boy and his girl

He did what Captain couldn't do

Reluctantly Captain officially accept this boy into his and his girl's life

If he could make her feel better then Captain would let him stay as long as his girl wanted him there

Damian and Marinette decided to take their dogs for a short walk to give them a chance to do their business and get some exercise before heading back to Marinette's hotel room to continue their movie night

After ordering some pizza from a near by shop the couple and their dogs spent the rest of their time together watching the other 2 Mummy movies in the trilogy then had a blast tearing apart the remake with Tom Cruz

Damian and Titus left after that movie, leaving Marinette feeling much better and safer.

Damian finally got home sometime after midnight. He expected everybody to be asleep or out on patrol but instead he found his family sitting in the living room

Walking towards them he was met by Ace

Damian: Hey girl how are you?

Damain rubbed the german shepherd's head

Ace gave the boy a lick on the hand before trotting away with Titus to go to sleep for the night.

Damian: I thought you guys would be asleep by now or at least out on patrol

Dick: We were worried about you Baby Bird. We thought you would be home hours ago

Bruce: Not to mention that you completely ignored our texts and calls

Damian: Sorry father something came up with Marinette, and she needed some cheering up so we had a movie night

Jason: seriously you spent 9 or so hours watching movies with your girlfriend

Guys I actually looked it up it would take about 8 hours to watch the Mummy trilogy plus the remake

Damian smirked: Yep and it was one of the best dates I've ever had. She has another free day tomorrow and we're going to hang out and go on another date

Tim: Really another date? And when will we be able to meet this girl?

Damian: If I can help it never.

With that Damian turned on his heels and heads to his room

Jason: So we're going to ambush them on their date tomorrow right

Dick and Tim: Definitely

Alfred: Are you sure that is wise? What do you think Master Bruce?

Bruce: If you're going to do it make sure you get some pictures

Dick winking: Will do

A bit shorter then usual sorry. But after the Lila scene I wanted to spend the rest of the post making Marinette feel better, and I felt like this was the best way to end this part.

#daminette #damin wayne #marinettecheng #marinette dupain cheng #damian x marinette #maribat #damain wayne au #pet headcanon #Captain the Retired Police Dog

887 notes · View notes

inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

Text

For You: 4 O’Clock

Taglist: @jineunwootrash

If you would like to be added to the taglist of any of this blog’s works, please ask!

All This Time

"Honestly, Yesung," I smile as we wrap up at the studio, "I'm gonna miss this. I can't believe this is our first time singing together!"

"It does seem long overdue, huh?" Yesung grins, sitting back in his chair. "We can always do this again, Lei. I'm happy to see you back in the studio after all this time!"

"You know," I sigh, "I think I am too."

I hadn't planned to return to S.M. as an artist, but I never quite ruled out the possibility. I guess I find comfort in open endings. When I first went on leave, I started working toward degrees in a variety of foreign languages— the ones I learned as an idol— intending to return to the agency as a translator.

Then, Yesung sent me a demo of the perfect duet and asked me to sing it with him. Being the perfect husband, Taemin encouraged me to do it. "One song doesn't commit you to a career," he said, so now I am here: reimagining my dream of being an artist.

The days of nonstop touring and practicing from sunrise to sunset have passed; my priorities are different now. Here in the shade with Yesung, where the light is gentle, I am comfortable. I am not ready to take the next big step.

"You're glowing, Lei; you were meant to share your voice." Yesung beams at me.

I want to tell him that I am only reflecting the light he and so many others have shone on me, but I don't get the chance. In his next breath, he asks, "How's our little miracle doing, by the way? Do you think he's expecting tomorrow's surprise party?"

As fond wrinkles form around Yesung's eyes, my heart swells and overfills with adoration. I shake my head. "No. Obviously, Mom can keep a secret. With time, Taemin has gotten better at holding his tongue. With Lucas, Donghae, and Heechul running around the house, though, it's amazing that the cat is still in the bag. I try not to question miracles."

"That seems wise," Yesung hums. "Best to enjoy secrecy while it lasts; they still have a full—" he glances down at his watch— "almost a full 24-hours to spoil the surprise!"

We laugh. Then, a joyful sort of pout— yes, I realize that is some kind of an oxymoron— pulls at my lips. I run a hand through my hair after releasing it from its ponytail. "Can you believe that Tue is turning five?"

"No!" Yesung's hair falls into his eyes when he shakes his head. "Just like I can't believe that you actually came around calling your son Tue after all those times you scolded Kim and Lucas for using that name!"

"Having two Lucases around gets confusing." I justify my change of heart, shrugging. "Plus, my boy is unique enough to justify that kind of name!"

Yesung repeats, "Unique," agreeing with a subtle nod. "He reminds me a lot of you, especially now that he's reaching that age you were when we first met."

It's strange— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

"Really?"

Tilting my head, I study my lock screen picture. Lucas took it just last night; he immortalized the moment that Tue sat between me and Taemin at the piano in the den, and I don't know if I have thanked him enough. I squint at the photo as if that will help me see similarities between myself and my son; it doesn't help.

"I think Tue is a carbon copy of Taemin in appearance and personality," I admit through laughter. "These days, he loves to watch music videos. He can replicate any choreography— and I mean any choreography— after seeing it just once. I've never seen anything like it!"

Should the agency find out, I sometimes think and spark worry in my gut, they will set their sights on him.

There it is— the reason why I am so reluctant to return to the stage as an idol: fear of drawing attention to Tue. It was difficult enough when he was born and everybody felt entitled to see him when he was too little to decide whether he wanted to exist under strangers' stares.

What worries me most, I think, is the fact that I don't know when he will be old enough to make that decision. Five is definitely too young— Taemin and I agree about that, so we take great precautions to protect his privacy. Nobody who knows Tue posts pictures of him on social media; whenever he leaves the house, he wears a mask like we do; as Mom considers early retirement (and therefore takes on fewer group clients), her job has become primarily threatening paparazzi who consider releasing rare photographs of him.

I have never cared whether people think I'm overprotective. I know too well of the pressures that come with living in the public eye, and I will defend my son from them for as long as I can. Tue is a star, and I know it's just a matter of time until he tries to follow in the footsteps of everybody he loves. I only comfort myself with the thought that it's not happening yet; it's not happening today; it probably won't happen tomorrow.

"I've seen something like that!" Yesung's boast drags me out of my train of thought. "I don't know if you can still do this— I don't understand child prodigies all that well— but when you were a kid, you could play any song on the piano right after hearing it for the first time. Donghae said teaching you to read sheet music was like pulling teeth because you played everything by ear."

Knowing that reading sheet music is still not my strong suit, I redden at Yesung's recollection. "Tue can do that too!" I want to brag. "He's the most talented person I've ever known, and he is barely five years old. He's the most gifted person I know, and that's saying something, given how many gifted people I've loved."

Yesung nudges my ribs. "Why else do you think Henry was so obsessed with you? You both spoke the same piano language!"

"You know," I say, "Henry asked about interviewing Tue for his program about child prodigies."

"Oh yeah?" Although he knows me well enough to predict the answer, Yesung asks, "What did you say?"

"I said that he's welcome to see Tue and play music with him any time," I answer Yesung just as carefully as I answered Henry. "You know that there's nobody I could trust more than you guys— Super Junior— to lead Tue into the entertainment industry, but—"

I squirm, and my stomach knots. "You know how I am. You know that the thought of sharing Tue— no— not the thought of sharing his talent and his sparkling smile and his sweet voice and his kindness— that's not the problem. I know that the world needs more people like my son. I just—"

After all this time, my voice still trembles when I think about how cruel strangers are to good people. "I just wonder how well the world treats people like him. I wonder how much the world deserves people like him."

Yesung rises from his seat to embrace me. His chin rests on the top of my chair. "I don't think anybody understands that anxiety better than your Mom."

And it happens again: my love for Mom grows. My beautiful Mom. My kind Mom. My Mom who stood in the wings, my Mom who stood comfortably in my shadow. I always thought she was naturally aware of when to hold on and when to let go, but maybe balance was challenging to her too.

Hearing Yesung describe our shared fear makes me imagine that I have grown to resemble Mom. Tears fill my eyes. I am always sensitive; especially about Mom, and especially around Tue's birthday.

Before the first tear can fall, he is running to me, crawling into my lap, and holding my face in his hands that are so small, so soft— uncalloused and young. "What's wrong, Mommy?"

Because the tears evaporate so quickly, I almost believe that they never existed. For a moment, when I cup Tue's rosy cheeks and give him my truest smile, I believe that I have never cried in my entire life. "I was just thinking about how much I missed my beautiful boy! It's all better now that you're here!"

Tue giggles when I push his dark curly hair out of his face and kiss his forehead. He's especially cute these days because he likes his hair long; he likes for the ends to tickle his dimpled chin.

"I missed you too! I asked Daddy to bring me to see you and Uncle Lucas and—" his eyes— the feature that most closely resembles Taemin's because they contain all of the universe's stars— widen in time with the growth of his smile. "Great Uncle Yesung!"

Tue transforms into a reincarnation of my childhood self when he abandons all thought in admiration of Yesung. He leaps out of my lap and runs into Yesung's laughing embrace.

It's beautiful— thinking about how much time has passed— thinking about how some things never change— realizing that some images repeat and replay.

I consider that on my walk to the doorway, where Taemin stands, watching the scene with a smile. His fingers trace absentmindedly at the ribbon on his wrist that hasn't faded with the passage of time. The color hasn't faded since he restored it on that night by the lake.

"I'm sorry if we interrupted your work," Taemin says softly when he catches me staring. "I told Tue not to just run into the studio, but you know how he gets when he's excited: just a teeny tiny bit disobedient. Or a teeny tiny bit forgetful."

After teasing, "I wonder who he gets that from," and earning a chuckle in response, I assure Taemin, "You didn't interrupt anything. Yesung and I are done with the song. We just got to talking."

Maybe Taemin noticed the tears before Tue carried them away, or maybe he hears that longtime blend of anxiety and craving for peace that almost always reveals itself in my voice through our conversations. His brow furrows as he wraps an arm around my waist. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Yeah," I answer immediately because I always want to talk about everything with Taemin. I told him once that I would grow to trust him with everything, and I have; for better or for worse, I hold nothing back. Watching Tue throw his head back laughing as Yesung tickles his ribs just below his armpits, right where he knows he's most ticklish, I condition, "Later though. Smiles and laughter for now, please."

Taemin doesn't press the issue. In the beginning, he was always in such a rush, determined to force intimate conversation, no matter my discomfort. Now, he must realize that there is nothing I will keep from him forever. Now, he must understand that everything will come to light when we lie together under the moon. He no longer races to the rising of the moon or the rising of the sun; he lives in every moment. I admire him for that.

Taemin smiles and winks at me before fixing his sight on Tue. "Hey little dude," Taemin says during the brief break in Tue's laughter, "Mommy is done for the day, and she wants to hang out with us! What do you wanna do?"

Tue runs to us from Yesung's side. He reaches for Taemin, knowing well that his father will waste no time in lifting him onto his shoulders.

"Alright." Taemin squats so Tue can climb on easily and so he doesn't hit his head on the doorframe. It's funny to watch Taemin, who was once spoiled rotten, who is still a bit rotten at the core, literally bending to the will of a small child. "What's the plan, kiddo?"

Tue wastes no time pretending to think about his dream activity. Although he sees his namesake almost every day, he declares, "I wanna see Uncle Lucas!"

Trusting that I still memorize my best friend's schedules, Taemin glances at me. Luckily enough, I still know where Lucas is at all times. Some people jokingly call it twin-telepathy, but it's only through my nagging reminders that Lucas ever gets where he needs to be.

"He's downstairs teaching a dance class with Mark." I look down at my phone again; I couldn't hide my smile at the picture even if I tried. "It should be wrapping up soon, so—"

Taemin cheers, "Off we go!" and runs toward the elevator. Tue squeals all the way down the hall, and I wish more than anything that I had been ready to record this moment.

Before following my boys, I linger in the studio to tell Yesung, "Bye! Thank you for everything!"

"See you tomorrow!" Yesung waves both hands. "You're welcome for everything! Never forget that I'm proud of you!"

I smile because it is impossible to forget what Yesung has told me since we met.

. . .

Although Taemin, Tue, and I stand quietly at the back of the room, Lucas notices us immediately.

"Hey!" His booming clap disrupts the class, and all eyes fall on us. "There's my mini-me!"

It doesn't matter that Tue is identical to Taemin (apart from the wavy hair he inherited from me); Lucas has called him "mini-me" since the day he was born. That's just a consequence of naming my baby after my best friend. It's a consequence I can live with.

It doesn't matter that Tue sees Lucas almost every day; they always greet each other with wide smiles and open arms as if they have been separated for lifetimes. That's just a result of the bond they share.

Sometimes, I think that Tue was born not just to fill my every void and fade every scar. He was born to be the best friend Lucas always deserved. He was born to teach Taemin that he is much more than an idol. He makes us better just by existing. I have never loved anyone so much— with my entire heart, my entire soul, with every part of me that has ever existed and will ever exist.

I run a hand through Tue's hair before Taemin passes him to Lucas. This transition of our most beloved person into the arms of another dear friend occurs without the arguments that gave me headaches at the start. We have accepted it by now: Lucas is Tue's favorite person on the planet.

I don't care much to challenge that title since it means so much to Lucas and since I know from experience that the role of the mother is special on its own. I don't know much from experience about the role of the father except that its absence painful in more ways than words can describe; I don't know much except its absence leaves a void that most will try to fill with anything; I don't know much except Taemin is doing a good job, and I tell him so every day.

Now, I tell him by reaching for his hand and lacing our fingers together. This— holding his hand— has always been my favorite act of affection. It's crazy to think that, once upon a time, I would have hesitated— I would have refused— I would have denied the desire to reach for him outside of our hotel room and our home.

Sometimes, like now, Taemin looks stunned when I touch him. He flinches as if my touch is frozen or scalding or electric, but then he smiles and melts into me a little more. Every time I think we're done melting into each other, when I think that we already blended to create the perfect human being, we take another step together.

"Hey!" Tue leans over Lucas's shoulder to look him in the eyes. "It's big-me!"

"Sh," I instruct quietly, bringing a finger to my puckered lips. "They're practicing, baby. We're guests, so we have to be quiet."

Generally, Tue is a well-mannered boy. He just forgets proper etiquette when excited, and nobody excites him quite like Lucas. Turning slightly pink in the face, Tue nods and brings a finger to his puckered lips too.

Moments of correction are always short-lived because Tue takes instruction well. I wink at him, and he winks back. The thing is— Tue has inherited Mom's lack of facial coordination, so he blinks both eyes.

The sight makes Taemin laugh. When I was a kid, I would have wanted to cry if someone (especially someone as beautiful as Taemin) laughed at me. Tue's lips don't tremble in preparation for tears, though; his lips curl into a gap-toothed smile. Oh, there's another thing my baby gets from me: a gappy smile! It looks much cuter on him; I almost hope he never corrects it with braces.

Because Taemin laughed, Tue laughs. He always copies his father.

Raising my eyebrows, I give Lucas a look that clearly means, "Aren't you supposed to help Mark with this class?"

Lucas understands. Maybe his understanding is the result of (fake) twin-telepathy or— more likely— it is the result of having known each other for eternities. Securing his hold around Tue, Lucas softly sings, "Priorities change, Lei."

Because I completely restructured my life for Tue— and that's much more significant than ditching the last five minutes of a dance practice— I can't argue with Lucas. I can only nod.

At the front of the room, Mark announces, "Alright guys, we're done for the day! Great work!"

I hope that he hasn't ended practice early because we have caused an interruption, but it's hard to stay worried when Mark's trainees break into excited chatter. The atmosphere in this room is unlike anything I experienced as a trainee. People like Mark, people like Lucas— they have changed this place. They have brought light into the rooms, and I— I think I want to help them.

Then, I look at Tue, and I know that I don't want him to spend his days sitting alone by the vending machine. I don't want him to spend his days sitting in the corner while I teach trainees. In no way do I resent my childhood; I just want to protect Tue from the loneliness that darkened too many days.

Life is about finding balance, I think. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the human. Balance between Lei the fearful and Lei the brave. Balance between Lei the skeptic and Lei the romantic. Balance between Lei the individual and Lei the wife. Balance between Lei the idol and Lei the mother. Balance between Lei of the past and Lei of now. Some of these, I have mastered. Some of these were easier to achieve than others. Some of these are a daily struggle. Some of these remain a mystery.

I'm trying, though; that's enough for me now. I am proud of who I am now. I am proud of who I will be tomorrow.

I wave to Mark, thinking that he has always had the best influence on others. Smiling, Mark waves back, calling "Happy Early Birthday, Lucas Tue!" (and receiving a chipper, "Thank you, Mr. Mark Lee!" in response) before I follow my family into the hall, led by Taemin's hand, with the sea of trainees.

We sit at the table by the vending machine. It's much smaller now than it is in my memories. Maybe that's because I've grown so much; maybe that's because my family fills it with energy so bright that I don't notice the empty seats.

Sitting in Lucas's lap, Tue asks, "Did you know tomorrow is my birthday?"

Lucas gasps, "Tomorrow is your birthday?"

Taemin laughs at how Tue's face contorts in utter bewilderment. His lips part, his brow furrows, and his skin is painted a flustered pink as he whines, "I don't know! Is it?"

Because everyone has been so quiet in discussing birthday preparations around Tue, he must not realize the date. "Tomorrow is May 29," I tell him, "so you're gonna turn five years old!" I wiggle five fingers toward his face; he laughs when I tap his nose with one of my fingertips, throwing his head back against Lucas's chest.

"What?!" Lucas cries; Tue laughs harder at the overreaction before Lucas even prods at his ticklish ribs. "Five?! That's crazy, man! That's older than me!"

Tue sputters, "No— no it's not! You're way— way— way older than five!"

"I am not!" Lucas argues, dropping his jaw to feign offense. "You know who is way older than five, though?"

As if sharing the same brain cell, Lucas and Tue settle their sights on Taemin, who, tightening his grip on my hand, drops his jaw, taking genuine offense. “I am not! I’m the biggest baby at this table!”

When Taemin crosses his arms over his chest and pouts his pretty lips, nobody thinks to argue. Lucas and Tue snort, failing to contain their laughter at Taemin’s expense. I so badly want to laugh with them, but I want more to kiss Taemin, so I peck at his lips.

At the kiss, Lucas and Tue do not squeal in disgust like most little boys would; they squeal in utter delight.

. . .

It’s hard to find an alone moment with Mom in our full house, but I find one after Taemin and I tuck Tue into bed. Mom is setting up Finding Nemo decorations around the pool. We chose that theme for Tue's party since it's his favorite movie.

Even wearing her pajamas with her hair tied up in a messy bun, Mom looks beautiful among the moon and stars. "What's going on, Lei?" She drapes a cloth over a fold-out table. "You're wearing your pensive face."

I try to laugh at myself by saying, "I'm always wearing my pensive face."

Because I have yet to tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung, my worries are a tangled knot at the forefront of my mind. It's a messy business, untangling the knot, and it's always easier with Taemin's help.

Tracing my finger along Nemo's little lucky fin on the table cloth, I prod at the knot on my own. "I'm just wondering how you knew when to hold me close and when to let me stand in the spotlight."

Mom stills to meet my eyes. "I know I wasn't perfect," she prefaces. When I try to disagree, she interrupts. "I'm human, Lei. I did the best I could, but I know I could have been better. Anyone can see through hindsight, in any situation, that they could have been better. They should have been better."

Mom has this way of speaking that nobody can replicate. She acknowledges faults and shortcomings through a lens that is never degrading, never belittling. She looks at the past in such a light that does not inspire regret but instead inspires a better tomorrow.

I admire Mom for that. I want to be like her. After all this time, I have not grown out of aspiring to be like Mom.

"When I think about how you used to sit alone at that table by the vending machine before Lucas walked into your world; when I think about how you used to cling to the wall in the corner of every room; when I think about how I used to hear you crying in your room at night when you thought I was asleep— when you thought your radio was loud enough to drown out your tears with SHINee's voices—"

Mom's voice wavers, and her gaze crashes onto the table. Now that I see her so affected by past pains even in the happiest stage of life to date, I understand: it was never easy for Mom. She just carried the burden where I couldn't see it.

"I always wondered if I was doing the right thing. I wondered if the spotlight found you because you walked into it or because I nudged you toward it. When you became a trainee and Donghae told me that Sehun said people were being cruel to you—" Mom bristles— "you don't know how much I wanted to pull you out of the agency. You don't know how badly I wanted to take you and hide you someplace where nobody could hurt you. But—"

Mom laughs— genuinely laughs— when I wrap my arms around her, thinking, knowing that a place without pain does not exist (at least not on earth). It's enough that she wanted to take me there, I think. It's enough that she wanted that place to exist for me.

She asks, "Do you know that part in Finding Nemo where Dory tells Marlin, 'Well, you can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him'?"

I nod. Even though Tue often falls asleep in my lap by that part of the movie, I know it well.

"Quickly— maybe instantly— I realized that you are too special not to share with the world." Mom cups my face with both hands. She kind of pinches my cheeks because they are still full; they still make me look very much like a child. "This world would be a sadder, duller place without your light shining in it. I decided that if anyone out there tries to dampen your light— well—"

Mom smiles, so I smile too.

"I would work a million times harder to keep it burning."

. . .

When I tell Taemin about my conversation with Yesung in the studio and my conversation with Mom under the moon, he says, "That's all very beautiful, baby. It almost makes me want to cry. But I still think Tue is way too young to be an idol."

I have almost drifted to sleep with my head on Taemin's chest because the steady beat of his heart has always been one of my greatest comforters. I lift my head to narrow my eyes at him. "How did you gather from any of that that I want our son to be an idol?"

Taemin squints, trying to make out my features in the dark. "I don't know! It just seemed like you were coming to terms with letting him wander into the spotlight, and I thought maybe it was my turn to be the voice of reason!"

Even without the slightest aid offered by the pale moonlight, I would see the smirk curling his lips. "The last time I was the voice of reason was during our first New Year when you dropped your dress—"

"Let it go, Taemin!" I chastise, wondering how and why I let his sentence get that far before rolling my eyes. "That happened how many years ago?"

"I don't know. Time is all relative anyway." Taemin probably feels like some kind of genius or the mysterious picture of a soulmate he was at the beginning. "It happened how ever many years ago, and it's still one of my favorite memories! It never fails to make me smile."

I shake my head and lay on my back beside him. "We're way off track. Anyway, I completely agree: Tue is too young to be an idol. The agency wouldn't even let him audition until he turns ten. Even then, I'm not going to suggest that he audition. I'm not going to actively nudge him anywhere near that path."

Moments pass in silence. Taemin rolls onto this side to trace patterns on my stomach. In addition to calming me, this gentle affection helps him organize his thoughts.

"I think we should cross that bridge when we come to it," he says, as usual. "Obviously, I want to support him in anything he wants to do. I won't really know how to help him if he wants to be a doctor or a lawyer, but— well— think of how much we can guide him if he wants to follow in our footsteps."

Taemin makes a good point. Having two idol parents might make Tue a target for bullies— I know that having a manager for a mother made me one— but cruel people will justify their actions with any excuse. What makes Tue stand out could double as a strength; I know having my particular mother made me stronger. Similarly, Tue could turn to me and Taemin and Mom and Lucas and his entire network of well-wishing idols for advice, and we would all be equipped by our experiences to help him in some way.

"I'm so glad I have you." I roll onto my side so that my face is level with Taemin's and I can clearly see the night sky reflected in his eyes. "You embody that perfect balance between listening and advising. You always have. I love you so much for that. I always have."

He smiles, and my heart flutters. "I'm glad I have you too. Thank you for trusting me and listening to my advice. I love you so much for that. I always will."

Taemin creates the perfect atmosphere for honesty. With a glance, he encourages me to carry my darkest thoughts into the light. It feels like he is carrying them with me; they are less heavy this way. That's why I admit, suddenly on the verge of tears, "I'm afraid that I haven't made my love for Tue clear enough."

I have rarely cried since taking a break from being Lei the idol. My outburst must send Taemin back in time to the very start when I first cried to him under the moon's watch— to the night when the moon became ours. Back then, he was so careful. He resisted the destined desire to touch me, to embrace me, because he didn't want to frighten me. Now, he moves instantly, instinctively, to hold me.

His lips meet mine for a second. After just a second, he tries to part, but I need him. I need him, and that hasn't scared me in so many moons. I need him, and I bring him back down to me and hold him here until we have kissed most of my worries away.

We always keep a few worries because Taemin says they keep us safe. He thinks my talent for spotting danger is, in moderation, one of our greatest strengths. I'm good at seeing a storm cloud from a million miles away; Taemin is good at making a hurricane feel like an overdue summer drizzle. That's why we are the greatest team to ever exist.

"Tue knows you love him," Taemin assures me in a whisper against my lips. "Anyone who knows you— anyone who knows us knows that we weren't really breathing until Tue took his first breath."

That's not to say that life wasn't worth living before Tue existed. Just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Lucas, and it was happier once he laughed and painted the world anew; just like my life was as happy as it could have been before Taemin, and it was happier once he handed me the moon; my life was as happy as it could have been before Tue, and it was happier once he breathed.

Tue's breath gave me every beautiful wonder I never knew existed— the heavenly traces on earth that nobody can see with the naked eye until they have seen and felt and loved their child.

"Does the world know?" My mouth hurts from frowning. "These past five years— have we done the right thing by keeping Tue off of social media? The agency issued the briefest statement about him, like, a week after he was born, and I don't even know if they mentioned his name. Mom deletes all leaked traces of him from the internet. Any time interviewers are bold enough to ask you about him, the agency pressures the network to cut the clip."

They do all of these things at our request.

Taemin wipes the tears spilling from my eyes as I wonder, "When Tue gets older, what will he think about the fact that his parents said nothing about him where the world could hear?"

"Hopefully he'll understand that his parents loved him enough to protect him until he was old enough to protect himself," Taemin answers in a tone that does not belittle my fears in his effort to quell them. "It's not like you've been active on social media at all these past five years, Lei. If Tue ever asks, and I doubt he will, we can explain that you spent all of your time with him while I—"

Taemin's voice falters.

One of his biggest insecurities— maybe you could call it a regret— is that while I walked away from my career the moment I felt Tue's life, he hadn't deviated much from the course he had been on most of his life. I never pressured Taemin to make a career shift in any direction; at every opportunity, I expressed my belief that there is no right or wrong move when finding the balance between family life and work. Needs vary, and I believe that people can adapt to almost any situation.

Taemin's pace has changed somewhat over time. Early morning practices with Jongin became scarce after Tue was born; now, they are almost obsolete. He says that he likes to be home for breakfast and early morning cartoons.

He isn't as excited about promoting abroad when Tue and I can't tag along. As you can probably imagine, some trips cannot function as family vacations. He swears that video calls before bed are not enough to fill the void in his day when we aren't there.

He doesn't look forward to awards ceremonies like he once did. We agreed that Tue shouldn't attend events where strangers' cameras abound. He says that even if we did attend, he would be expected to sit with his group, not with us.

The studio isn't his second home anymore. Whenever he has to stay later than expected, he comes home with a million apologies, a bouquet of roses for me, and a new toy for Tue. At this point, Tue has an entire colony of plush Nemos on his bed; he sleeps cuddling every single one. It doesn't matter how often I tell him that he has nothing to apologize for; he apologizes and apologizes and I know he will apologize again.

I know that he feels torn between his roles as Taemin the idol, Taemin the husband, and Taemin the father. I just don't know how to help him. He made so little time for Taemin the human being that, sometime during the first week of May, he had some kind of emotional breakdown at the studio that compelled SHINee to delay the release of their new album.

Deciding that he didn't want anybody to blame Taemin for the postponement, Jinki offered to take the heat. He told Mom, "Issue a statement claiming that I'm suffering from a gluteal strain after an impromptu breakdancing battle!"

Jinki's Rationale for the Gluteal Strain Story:

"The key is to tell a lie so outrageous that nobody can doubt it! Nobody will question a story about a literal pain in the butt!"

Anyway, that's why Taemin and I have swapped roles lately. He is taking his first break from being an idol to spend time with Tue. While they watch movies and play the piano and work through those online pre-school activities, I am dipping my toes back into the world of recording. I don't know yet what I will do in terms of a career, but I know that Taemin will return to the stage revitalized. He is remarkably resilient, born to shine.

Knowing I can't alter Taemin's self-perception, I card my fingers through his hair and praise him anyway. "Taemin, Tue learns so much about hard work, passion, and dedication from you. He truly admires you in the purest way. He doesn't see the distinction between his father and his idol because you fulfill those responsibilities so well—so much better than I ever could— so much better than I was willing to try."

I kiss the crown of Taemin's head as he buries his face in the crook of my neck. "We're so proud of you. Don't forget that."

"Thank you," Taemin mumbles against my skin. "I haven't forgotten. I just— I'm so proud of you for being Tue's mom, but I'm sorry if I pressured you to walk away from your dreams to carry my weight here—"

"Taemin." I nudge him until he looks down at me with wide apologetic eyes. "You didn't pressure me into anything. You didn't pressure me into anything at all."

He looks unconvinced, judging by his pout, so I explain, "I have so many dreams! To be a genuine artist, to be a loving daughter, to be a reliable friend, to be a comforting wife, to be an inspiring Mom."

I wrap my arms around Taemin's waist and hug him closer. "I heard once that growing up is a process of letting your dreams die one by one, but I disagree. Every day that I'm with you, I discover a new dream I don't think I have to choose one over all the others. I just have to find balance. And we'll find it together; that's what we always do."

Finally, Taemin smiles. I smile. We can breathe again.

He lays against me, and our chests rise and fall together. We melt a little more, and I— I can't tell where he ends and I begin. I can't remember a time when we were separate beings. I don't ever want to remember.

"Do you want me to go on Instagram live to say that my wife and son are everything to me? Or should I air footage of one of Tue's baby albums? Or should I post videos and pictures from life with you these past five years? Or should I read our story where anyone can hear?"

Between each question, Taemin has kissed me. His lips hover over mine as he begs, "Tell me what to do, Lei. Tell me how to make your dreams come true, and I'll do it. I'll do anything."

He doesn't understand that I am already living my dream. I don't know how to make him understand.

"Just kiss me again," I instruct softly. Sweetly, Taemin complies. "And let's think about something special we can do to love our son on his birthday."

When Taemin and I tiptoe into his room early the next morning, we expect to find Tue fast asleep, snoring into his pillow while clutching a Nemo plushie. Instead, we find him lying with his belly against the floor, kicking his bare feet int he air while doodling on a piece of paper.

While Taemin sits before Tue, I sit beside him and ask, "Can I see your drawing, baby?"

Tue has never denied me access to his art before. I love seeing the smile that curls his lips whenever I express interest in his creativity. "Yep!" His enthusiastic nod sends his unruly morning curls flopping. "But I'm not just drawing something, Mommy."

Taemin's brow furrows as he tries to decipher Tue's handwriting. He is at a disadvantage because a.) from where he sits, Tue's letters are upside down, b.) the note is written entirely in English, which still isn't Taemin's strong suit, and c.) Tue has chosen to write with the palest yellow crayon in his arsenal.

Sweetly, Taemin asks, "What is it?" Leaning forward, he sets his elbows on the hardwood floor and props his chin in his hands.

Tue delights in the opportunity to explain anything from why he thinks the sky is blue to why he thinks roses are the prettiest flowers to why Finding Nemo is the best movie ever. His face lights up at Taemin's question.

"It's a letter to Mr. Mark Lee!" Tracing his little fingers along his letters, Tue reads, "Thanks for saying 'Happy Birthday' yesterday. I forgot my birthday. You didn't. You make me very happy!"

Tue turns the paper so Taemin can read it. "And look! I drew me here and Mr. Mark Lee here, and we have big smiles and party hats!"

When Tue gives Taemin his gappy smile, I can't contain myself. While Taemin takes the paper from Tue's hand, my heart explodes as I pull Tue onto my lap. Holding him around the waist, I pepper his forehead, cheeks, nose, and chin with kisses; he giggles all the while.

"You're the sweetest boy in the whole world, Tue!" I boast, and he beams at the praise. "Who taught you how to write 'Thank You' notes?"

"I dunno!" He shrugs his shoulders. "Probably you or Daddy. You and Daddy teach me everything!"

I raise my eyebrows, giving Taemin this look that means, "I told you so. He knows that you're a great father. I told you so!"

Taemin probably doesn't notice. He smiles at Tue as he returns the paper to his baby soft hand. "You're going to give this to Mr. Mark Lee the next time you see him, right? I bet getting a letter like this would make him very happy."

At that suggestion, Tue's face burns crimson. In many ways, he is one of the most confident, outgoing people I have ever known; in others, he is even more bashful than I have ever been. In five years of knowing him, I have yet to figure out how he manages that degree of duality. Considering that Tue is forever charming — whether bold or shy — I am inclined to believe duality is another quality he inherited from Taemin.

As he leans into me and hides his face in my shirt, Tue entrusts his paper to my hand. "Can you give that to Mr. Mark Lee, Mommy? I want to make him very happy, but I can't give it to him! I just can't!

Maybe I should gently nudge Tue out of his comfort zone, especially since there is nothing to fear about approaching Mark. Maybe I should take this chance to teach him that self-expression is nothing to be embarrassed about. I can't do it, though. As precious as he looks with rose-colored cheeks, I can't darken my baby's blush.

"I'll give it to him," I promise, urging him to lift his head to meet my bright smile. "He'll love it! Now go to Daddy, alright? He's gonna help you get dressed."

Looking down at his pajamas donning Nemo's face, of course, Tue pouts. He crosses his arms. He really looks and sounds like Taemin when he whines, "I don't wanna get dressed!"

"Well, you have to," Taemin says as he scoops Tue into his arms. Carrying him to the closet, Taemin responds to Tue's whines, "If you don't get dressed, I can't take you to your surprise!"

As I walk to the door, I hear Tue squeal, "Surprise?" Taemin laughs at his reaction. Tue's squeal and Taemin's laugh are the reasons why I smile when I walk downstairs to tell everybody that the birthday boy is on his way.

. . .

I push the curtains aside and from my side of the kitchen window, I watch Donghae carrying Tue on his shoulders in the pool. Following Mom's instruction to "Behave! At least around the baby!" Heechul stands beside them, donning a smile for Lucas's camera.

The sight is especially comforting considering how annoying Donghae and Heechul were at the beginning. Apparently, when nobody was listening, Heechul told Tue, "Call me Grandpa, and call him—" he pointed a finger at Donghae— "Grandpa 2."

Tue was too young and too sweet to understand that Heechul was up to his old shenanigans of competing with Donghae, so he followed the instruction faithfully, much to Donghae's dismay.

"Don't worry," Tue said to Donghae's frown, flashing him a big toothy smile. "I'm a 2 too!"

I wish I or Mom or Lucas— since he has appointed himself the family photographer— had recorded the smile Tue sculped onto Donghae's face. I would love to carry a picture of it with me so I could show it to you and everybody I meet, saying, "This is my son's mark on the world, and it's the most beautiful mark anybody has ever made. He is five years old, and he has never hurt a living creature. He is five years old, and he makes smiles wherever he goes."

My mental images of Tue's gappy smile and those he leaves in his wake are among my most prized possessions. I am admiring them when Mark walks in through the back door, carrying an empty bowl.

His eyes widen as if he has interrupted something. He beelines to the refrigerator, muttering, "Your mom said there's more watermelon in the fridge."

Glancing down at the platter of snacks I have assembled, I frown at the utter lack of watermelon. "I should have known that we would need more watermelon with you and Tue eating at the same place at the same time."

Mark laughs, dropping the empty bowl into the sink. "Well, what can I say?" He grabs the bowl of sliced watermelon Mom prepared last night and tosses a slice into his mouth. "Little man and I have good taste!"

"Speaking of little man—" I smile at Mark's nickname for Tue as I close the refrigerator door and point to a pinned paper— "he wrote this for you."

After setting the bowl onto the counter, Mark takes the page into his hand. He doesn't have to squint to make out the letters. "He's writing 'Thank You' letters? To me? At five years old?"

I can't help but smile at Mark's awestruck expression. "You made his day, and I guess he wanted you to know."

Mark's slack-jawed expression transforms into a radiant smile. "Can I keep this?"

"It's for you," I repeat, nodding, "so I think you're supposed to keep it. See the little faces at the bottom?" Mark nods, so I explain, "The artist says the big one is you and the little one is his latest self-portrait."

Mark smiles at the paper once more before folding it into his pocket. As we grab our snacks, we walk together to the back door. We stop once Mark asks, "Before we go back outside, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah." There's something petrifying about Mark's quiet voice, so I hope my smile will encourage him to speak up. "What's up?"

"You know how I'm working with the trainees?" When I nod, Mark continues, "As far as I'm concerned they're all set talent-wise. I only really work with them on dancing and rapping— Taeil is the vocal instructor."

Based on what I saw in the final five minutes of dance practice yesterday, I agree. It seems that the trainees get better with each generation. "They seem like they will make excellent artists one day."

"They will!" Mark beams, seeming as proud of his trainee's progress as he is of his own achievements. "I've been thinking about how else I can help them grow, and I think maybe we should spend time talking about, like, emotional wellbeing."

"That sounds like a good idea." I, for one, could have benefited from learning about that as a trainee.

"I'm glad you think so," Mark says slowly, "because I kind of want you to help me with those conversations."

My jaw drops. "Me?" By no means have I ever considered myself an expert on emotional wellbeing. "Why?"

Mark's head goes aslant; he looks at me as if challenging me to look at myself. "When I think of strength, I think about how you carried yourself in training when those girls were mean to you. I think about how you stayed best friends even when people watched you and whispered. I think about how you didn't fall apart when the media used to speculate about the idol who never debuted. I think about how you held your head high when people criticized you for dating, then marrying, then having a baby with Taemin. But mostly— " Mark smiles — "I think about how you changed your whole life for Lucas Tue. I can't think of anyone better to teach the trainees that as much as we love music, as much as we love being idols, there is a lot more to life than the spotlight."

I blink, wondering how, when, and why Mark became so well-spoken. My gaze falls onto the snack platter in my hands. "I— I don't know how to teach anybody that."

Mark sighs, dejected, and I compulsively admit, "But I want to learn. I would love to learn, Mark."

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs in through the open back door, asking, "Mommy, where—"

His voice falls flat as his eyes widen at the sight of Mark. "Mr. Mark Lee," Tue stutters, "I— I—"

Before Mark can reply, Tue runs back outside.

Mark looks at me, raising his eyebrows. "What did I do?"

Making my way out the door and into the summer sun, I explain, "He's being bashful because of that letter. He gets into shy moods from time to time."

"Oh, okay." As we set our snacks onto the table, Mark asks, "Wait, did I hear you right? Did you mean that you would help me with the trainees?"

From their sunchairs nearest to the snack table, Lucas and Taemin look up. Tue has concealed his flustered face against Taemin's chest, and he doesn't perk up at the sound of Mark's voice; he retreats further into Taemin's embrace.

Taemin meets my eyes. Although he is reluctant to pressure me with vocal encouragement, he offers a gentle smile that seems to whisper, "Go for it. You can do anything."

Lucas, true to who he has always been and always will be, is much louder about his support. He lowers his sunglasses. "Wait, you're gonna help me and Mark with the trainees? As in, we're having a mini ot8 SuperM reunion?"

Mark glances at me with apologetic eyes as he pops another slice of watermelon into his mouth. Once upon a time, I think I would have glared at anyone for putting me on the spot like that. Depending on who it was, I might have even scolded them. I can't bring myself to scold Mark, though; I can't bring myself to glare at him, and I don't want to try.

"I'll help," I decide easily, "in any way I can."

I guess I don't want to disappoint Mark's perception of me; I want to live up to it. I guess I want to believe Yesung— that I am meant to share my voice. I guess I want to believe Mom— that I can make the world a happier, brighter place with my light shining in it. I guess I want to be to the trainees who Mark is to them, who Mom has always been to me: someone who works a million times harder than the light dampeners to keep their light burning.

Tue lifts his head from Taemin's chest to cheer, "You can do it, Mommy! You're the best helper!"

As I sit by his side, Taemin raises his eyebrows, giving me a look that means, "I told you so. He knows you perfectly. I told you so."

"Thank you, baby," I wink at Tue. I whisper in his ear, "Mr. Mark Lee loves your letter, by the way."

Tue smiles and lays his head back on Taemin's chest. When he closes his eyes, he looks exhausted. I think he falls asleep in an instant.

Lucas follows Mark to the pool, I think, for fear of waking Tue with his booming voice. Thus, Taemin and I are alone with our son again, even at the bustling party hosted in his honor.

Taemin asks, "Are you happy today?" in a voice so quiet that I think he's whispering sweet nothing to our sleeping boy until his eyes rise to meet mine. "I remember you said, once upon a time, 'Life doesn't always go as planned, and I think that's okay as long as you like where you end up.' And I'm wondering again if you like where you ended up— if you like where you're going next."

My heart always flips when Taemin quotes our story. "I recall saying, 'Anywhere with you is where I want to end up.'" I reach for Taemin's hand— the one closest to me, the one that isn't secured around Tue. "I still feel that way, Anywhere with you is where I want to go next."

Taemin flashes a sparkling smile before puckering his lips, wordlessly daring me to kiss him. Because I am no coward, I accept the dare before he can even blink. And just when I think that this moment is too beautiful to pass, I hear it.

The snapping of Lucas's camera capturing us in a photograph.

11 notes · View notes

words-writ-in-starlight · 4 years

Note

I've always thought that LWJ didn't really spend 16 years hunting to find WWX. I'm sure he kept his eyes open and looked for any sign of demonic cultivation, sure. But I also think he spent 16 years looking for danger so that he could increase his chance of dying young. Trouble is, he's too skilled to die easy. I headcanon that Lan Xichen made LWJ take the juniors with him on night hunts because he knew his brother wouldn't put /other/ people in clear danger, & he just wanted to keep LWJ alive.

ANGST! No dialogue, noplot, just ANGST! This is who I havealways been!

It’s not—Xichenknows that his brother isn’t likely to die on a night hunt. It’s not thatsimple. In a way, he’s not even worried for him. No matter whatelse he is or may be, Xichen’s brother is still Hanguang-jun, the bearer oflight, who stormed Wen supervisory strongholds and who stood against most ofthe cultivation world and whose skill as a warrior is very arguablyunparalleled. The only one who could match him—

Well. Xichen doesn’t worry about his brotherbeing beaten in battle, these days.

And he doesn’t worry about Wangji allowing himselfto be killed, either, although that’s a closer way to define it. There islittle A-Yuan, sweet-eyed Lan Sizhui, to think about, who Wangji loves with adesperate ferocity Xichen has only seen in him once before. Sizhui is twelve and the best son any father could hope for, in Xichen’sadmittedly biased opinion, talented and kind and earnest, easy to love andquick to love in return. Xichen loves him almost as recklessly as heloves his brother. He can do nothing less for the only person who seemsto bring his solemn didi joy anymore.

He is utterly confident that Wangji would neverleave his son, never, not for all the peace that might be found on the otherside of a sword.

This absolute truth,this wholehearted confidence that Wangji will always return, no matter thechallenge, no matter the risk, makes it difficult to explain why Xichenworries.

The thing is, Lan Wangji, Hanguang-jun, A-Zhan, is dimmed, in away that tears at Xichen to see it. He is less, as if he abandoned more than just color when hestopped wearing blue. There were days, when Xichen would visit duringWangji’s seclusion—and the elders be damned, for trying to stop him, for tryingto keep A-Yuan away, he is Sect Leader and he was not having it—when he wouldhave sworn that he might have seen straight through his brother. Wangjihas always been quiet, he was a quiet baby, but since—since, he’s been aghost of himself. Even after three years in seclusion and nearly a decadeto heal, Xichen still barely recognizes him. A thick shade has settledover the light in Xichen’s brother, and he is afraid that someday, whileHanguang-jun will come back from a night hunt, that faint light will not.

Xichen is supposed to be wise, he’s supposed to beZewu-jun, he’s supposed to be the calm, enlightened Sect Leader of GusuLan, buthe doesn’t know how to help his brother. He hasn’t found a good answer inall this time. He knows that the wound of—that the wound won’t heal becauseWangji won’t let it heal, and he doesn’t know where to go fromhere.

He remembers when Sizhui first began to learn toplay the guqin, and brought a piece to Xichen in childlike pride. Hislullaby, he had called it as he plucked out a careful melody, learned by heart. Without spiritual energy directed and channeled, without the complexities of anexperienced hand, it was only music, but Xichen had listened to Inquiry toomany times not to be able to translate it.

Are you there?

Are you lost?

Are you at peace?

Are you with your sister? Your parents? Your people?

Are you waiting?

I miss you.

It’s not—it’s not a search, not anymore, Xichendoesn’t think. It’s been too long to expect an answer, and Wangji hasnever been a fool. But Wangji can do nothing else. There’s nowherefor him to bow, there was no vigil to keep, there will never be anyone whoburns paper money or grieves with him. So Wangji plays Inquiry, over andover again, to a spirit that doesn’t answer, and someday Sizhui will learnInquiry himself, and know that his lullaby was always a eulogy spoken insecret.

Once, Xichen tried to make his brother stop. Tried to make him leave off his long, slow grief, to shakehim out of his ghost-self and back to life and light. He hadn’t been ableto think of anything except to take Wangji’s guqin, an attempt to force him tostop, stop, playing that damned unanswered query. Andit had worked, in a way. The cold, blinding flare of rage, when Wangjiswept uninvited into Xichen’s rooms and demanded flatly that his instrument bereturned, please, Sect Leader Lan—it had been good to see. Proof that,even if the embers were banked and dull-glowing, there was still a fire to bewoken in Xichen’s brother. But the days of bitter silence, afterward,wasn’t worth the short-lived victory.

Sizhui had sided with his father, of course, even ifhe didn’t then understand what the point of contention was. He had given Xichen affronted looks andorbited closer to Wangji than usual for weeks. Sizhui had always knownthat there was a wound somewhere in his adopted father, in that sharpperceptive way that’s entirely too unlike Wangji, entirely too himself to beanything but a relic of before Cloud Recesses, the time that he doesn’tremember and Wangji won’t discuss.

Xichen has his theories. But Lan Sizhui is thepride of GusuLan Sect, the brightest light in his father’s life, and Xichen isgrateful that someone else loves his brother enough to be angry on hisbehalf. Xichen’s theories have been buried in a shallow grave for manyyears.

And Wangji is only himself, in any way thatXichen can recognize, with Sizhui. It’sbeen like that ever since he first brought the boy back, when A-Yuan, feverishand delirious and calling for people none of them knew, crept into hissickbed. Wangji had been barely responsive,had allowed the physicians to tend his scourged back and had stared at the wall,not sleeping, not meditating, not speaking, just waiting. When Xichen got word that his brother hadspoken, to call the weeping A-Yuan over and tell him, quietly, that the man hecalled for was not going to come back, he’d felt a rush of relief like hislungs trying to jump out of his mouth. But he hadn’t spoken to Xichen, not that day, nor for several more, onlyholding A-Yuan close while the boy slept.

Xichen hadn’t gotten a word out of his brother foreight days after he was whipped, and then, when he finally did, it was only toclaim A-Yuan as his son in a tone that broke Xichen’s heart. He had forced the elders to accept the child withoutarguing or demanding details from Wangji, had simply put him in the sectrecords as Lan Yuan and stared down anyone who questioned his actions. Xichen would have done anything Wangji askedof him, in that moment, anything to keep him talking, anything to keep A-Yuan nearhim. Wangji had been nearly a corpsehimself, in those early days, lightless even in the presence of A-Yuan’s tinysun, but he had moved and spoken and lived when A-Yuan was near. The effect should have grown less pronouncedas Wangji returned to himself, but instead it has only made the difference moreapparent.

Maybe that’s what he’s worried about, when Wangjileaves on night hunts. Some part ofXichen never got over the fear of it, of seeing his solemnly brilliant diditransformed into a shell, silent and detached, the heart of him carved out. Some part of him is terrified still, thatbeing away from Sizhui for too long will let Wangji slip back into thatnumbness, that corpse-cold stillness, so different from his familiar reserve.

Hanguang-jun would never die on a night hunt, notthrough anything but dire misfortune. Heis still the best of the Lan, their bearer of light. But Xichen is secretly, desperately afraidthat, someday, one of the reports they receive of resentful spirits and demoniccultivation will be true, and he will not get his brother back.

Wangji never allows anyone else to investigate thosereports, the ones that claim in half-hysterics to be the Yiling Patriarchreborn, or trapped as a spirit, or the dramatics of the day. He always comes back with flat unfeelingreports of frightened villagers and exaggerations and resentful spirits easilydispatched. And when Xichen gets down tothe bone of it, the living core of his fear for his brother, Xichen is horriblysure that someday, someday, Wangji will come back from one of those nighthunts and say nothing at all and shimmer out of existence at last, a heatmirage under a cold wind.

It isn’t suitable for Zewu-jun, Sect Leader Lan, tohate someone. Xichen thinks about itsometimes during meditation, about how foreign it feels, this hard hot chip ofloathing, and worries at it like a loose tooth, tries to pry it out of place tobe discarded. He can’t manage it.

He hates Wei Wuxian, for what his death has doneto Xichen’s brother.

For standing up when everyone else knelt down, eventhough it cost him everything, life and family and sanity all gone in a merehandful of months.

For what finding his resentful spirit would do tothe last light in Hanguang-jun.

So. He just—hehas to find a way to keep Wangji from following these leads. It isn’t healthy for Wangji, and none of themever have any sign of the man himself anyway, dead or otherwise. Xichen has to find an excuse to send othercultivators after fantasies of the Yiling Patriarch, and that means findingsomething to keep Wangji busy.

Wangji is only himself around Sizhui—a quieter,sadder self, to be sure, but the honest adoring boy that Xichen half-raisednonetheless. Sizhui, while a prodigy, istoo young for night hunting.

The junior disciples are promising and bright, andWangji needs a—a check, for lack of a better word. Something that will force him to speak, tointeract, to think of safety and security rather than only results.

He will not appreciate what Xichen is going to do,but someday, Sizhui will be on night hunts too. This is—this is practice. Maybe then Wangji will brighten again, traveling with the son headores. Maybe then Xichen will be ableto sleep while his brother is gone.

#the untamed #mdzs #lan xichen #lan wangji #the untamed fic #starlight writes stuff #hellooooo friends!!!!!!!#i hear you wanted angst??????#i have angst #my case for the name usage here is lxc calls lwj by courtesy name pretty much exclusively BUT only calls him lan wangji in formal context #otherwise it's just wangji. i assume that he extends this to other people to whom he is close #anyway i did a bunch of research today on name meanings and um #it hurts me that a different 'yuan' is used in 'wen yuan' than in 'lan yuan'#('lan yuan' the character used means like...'to wish' or 'to hope' and also 'sizhui' means 'to remember and long for' so! that's fine!)#i'm writing a fic about that also! actually it's just...lwj's perspective of that eight days #it's ALSO only angst!#but yeah #*sits down with a powerpoint and fifteen pages of conference notes* y'all wanna talk about sizhui growing up hearing inquiry every night?#he worries a LOT about his father after young master mo shows up because suddenly there's no music at night #and like. he understands that playing inquiry over and over again isn't the healthiest coping mechanism in the world.#but the only time he's known his father NOT to play every night is when lwj is hurt or that one day that lxc took his guqin #sizhui is WORRIED until he figures out what's up #a queue we will keep and our honor someday avenge #Anonymous #asked and answered

66 notes · View notes