#i felt like i was going insane when i was down south and someone corrected me on my grammar

[lesbianshepard]

tag where you're from if you answer and reblog

#m #it's on line or you're wrong #but im pretty sure it's just a northeast usa thing #i felt like i was going insane when i was down south and someone corrected me on my grammar #and they looked at me like i was an idiot when i was like...it's on line #there's like a line and you're ON it #but whenever im home on long island everyone says on line

[formulaforza]

miss americana & the heartbreak prince

—06. Quarter of the Way —word count: 5.2k —warnings: none :) love, mackie... hiii guys!!! thank you for bearing with me while I sorted all of this out. my life is so crazy busy right now, and I have a weird outlining-rule that really restricted me from getting to bust this chapter out. it's a short one, and a lot of set up for the next chapter which WILL be coming soon.

The heads of the Elliott family tree—Bill, and his brothers Ernie and Dan—will tell you that what the Elliott’s do best is racing. If you ask the necks of the Elliott family tree—the ones who turn the heads; Cindy, Tammy, and Susan—they would argue that there is nothing quite like an Elliott family holiday. 

Chris is late, pulls onto the property an hour and a half after the start time posted in the massive family group-chat. She makes her own parking spot, like half of the family, since the driveway is well-filled. If her tally is correct, there are at least thirty people inside her family’s house right now. Or, at least thirty people somewhere on the property. 

She hauls her way inside with a hot crock-pot of mashed potatoes, which is the reason she was late in the first place. Her internal clock is so royally screwed up that it’s not even funny. She maneuvers her way through the herds of aunts, uncles, and cousins until she finally makes it into the kitchen. 

“Chrissy, you’re late, baby girl,” Cindy greets her daughter with a kiss on her temple, takes the crockpot from her arms and heaves it up onto the countertop.

“I know, I know,” Chris sighs, already starting to take off her coat. November in Georgia is not coat-worthy weather, but Chris is always cold, always. Sixty-five with a breeze does nothing for her. 

Hannah appears, seemingly out of nowhere, and drops a full wine glass into Chris’ hand. “Did you go tanning?” Hannah asks, picking up her best-friend’s arm to examine her skin tone in the light. “You’re glowing.”

Chris shakes her head and takes a big sip of her wine. “No, but, uh,” she chuckles. “I have a lot to tell you.”

Hannah scowls. “Good, bad, or in between?”

Chris smiles, gets that silly little warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest. The one she always seems to get when she thinks about him. Oh, when she thinks about him. It’s disgusting. “Good. Really, really good,” she says, takes another sip of wine and leans over to whisper into Hannah’s ear. “I’m seeing someone.”

“Do they work at a tanning salon?”

Chris laughs, whispers a “Shut up,” through gritted teeth. 

“Let’s go outside. Debrief on the swings?”

They sneak out the back door without being noticed by Cindy, who would undoubtedly have a long list of dinner-prep tasks for them if they stuck around for a moment longer. Wine glasses in tow, they make the journey across the porch, down the stairs, and to the back trail on the property, Chris greeting each family member as she walks past them. They’re all gathered around in the open yard, some playing cornhole, others positioned around the firepit, beers in hand, football game on the radio. Chase, who is playing catch with Reid and some cousins, warns of other family members out on the trails on the ATVs, tells the girls to be careful. 

As soon as they reach the cover of the trees, Chris is telling Hannah everything. Everything. She tells her about Austin, about how she met a guy who was just too charming to not get her number. About every nervous text and hours long FaceTime call and every picture and every conversation. She tells her about how crazy she feels, how insane she felt agreeing to fly across the world— “Wait,” Hannah questions. “You flew across the world?”

“Well, yeah. He’s not from here.”

“Where is he from?” Hannah takes a sip of wine. 

“Uhm,” she hesitates because she hasn’t dropped the big-bomb yet. “The south of France.”

“Mmm,” Hannah hums against the lip of her glass. “Tan mystery is solved.”

“Yeah,” Chris nods. “Anyways,”—She tells her about how she met his family, how they were nothing but sweet and inclusive and kind to her, even though she was surprised by half of them and looked like she’d just rolled out of a dumpster. She tells her about how they slept together, a few times, and how he pretended not to have every minute of their time planned. 

“So, he was good?” Hannah smiles. Chris blushes into her wine glass, ears hot, cheeks hotter. “Oh,” Hannah laughs. “He was good-good.”

“I hate to give a man the satisfaction, but,” Chris giggles, “but,” she shrugs, doesn’t elaborate more on the topic. Her teenaged giggles and pink cheeks are more than enough for the dots to be connected, she’s sure. 

Chris keeps going, telling Hannah about how she’s pretty sure he put off work to spend more time with her, and how she totally cried while they watched a movie and how he was totally freaked out by it, but in a good way? In a he-asked-me-to-be-his-girlfriend way. And then, after all that, Chris asks the burning question: “I know the RSVP date for me to have a plus-one was last month, but… is there any chance I can bring one?”

“For you? There’s room for a plus-million. I’d let you get engaged at my wedding if you wanted to—”

“I would never do that to you,” Chris assures. 

Hannah nods. “Honestly, he sounds really sweet, I don’t know why you hid this from me?”

“Because,” and here comes the big one, the answer to the question she’d been dreading, the one thing about Charles she’d been dodging like the plague, “he’s not just a guy I met at COTA.”

Hannah stops dead in her tracks. Chris turns fully to face her best-friend’s apprehensive face. “Don’t tell me what I think you’re about to—”

“He’s a driver.”

“Chris!” Hannah groans. “Why do you tell me these things? Now I have to choose between protecting you and telling my fiance everything.”

Chris’ stomach drops. The thought of Chase finding out from Hannah, but especially finding out tonight, is the worst-case scenario. She has to plan out how she’s going to do it, to break the news. “You can’t tell Chase.”

Hannah shakes her head, downs what’s left of her wine. “He’s gonna fuckin’ kill you.”

“I know, just.” Chris sighs. “Please. Don’t tell him. Let me tell everyone.”

Hannah scowls, gestures dramatically. “You make my life so hard, y’know?”

Chris nods, winces when she asks:  “But he can come to the wedding?”

“He can come to the wedding,” Hannah agrees, “as long as you tell Chase about him before his birthday.” 

Chase’s birthday is four days from now. Four days. She can handle that, right? Four days is a lifetime, she can totally do that. It’s not like their little rule was ever all that real, anyways. She didn’t grow up under a roof where it was forbidden for her to be with a racing driver. It was always more… Bill knew the type. Bill was the type, and he didn’t want that life for his little girl. And Chase, well. Chase didn’t want his kid sister around any more than she needed to be, and that included her fraternizing with his friends, or worse, with the enemy. She can one-hundred-percent well up the courage to take his grilling. 

“Just,” Hannah hesitates. “Are you sure about him?”

“What do you mean?” Chris questions, confused. 

“You love hard, is all,” She elaborates. “You put up with a lot of shit, I think. Stuff that you shouldn’t have to because you think you’ve found your soulmate. I just, I want you to be careful that you aren’t blowing your savings flying to Europe all the time for a guy who doesn’t love you like you love him.”

“I don’t love him,” Chris is quick to quip back. 

“Yeah, but you will.” 

Chris rolls her eyes. “Also, I didn’t pay for my flights.”

“Oh?” Hannah laughs. “So you’re a sugar baby?”

Chris slaps her shoulder, bursts out laughing. “You know that’s what I thought the entire flight to see him?”

– – –

Bill leads grace around the head table, and the entire meal, Chris is acutely aware of every single family member. Of all their undesirable habits and questionable conversation topics. All of these people are going to be at Chase and Hannah’s wedding, and in a few weeks, Charles is going to be interacting with them all on his own. She’ll be too busy to be a buffer the entire time, and suddenly she feels like she’s throwing him to the sharks. 

She’s never seen her family in such an unsavory light, and suddenly there are a million little flaws about everyone. Cindy is a gossip, and Bill’s accent is so thick that sometimes even Chris just smiles and nods. Chandler is half-absent, and when she is present, she’s a skunk with expensive perfume, always acts like she’s better than everyone else, more important. She has a 24/7 stick up her rear, especially if her girlfriend is with her. Chase is oblivious to his surroundings, has the attention span of a third-grader and eats like a wild animal. Reid, he’s a wildcard—just last spring he was sent home from school because he wouldn’t stop biting kids on the playground. He’s sitting at the kids table right now with nothing but rolls and corn and has his sticky little iPad in his lap. He’s feral, practically. Hannah is truly the only normal one in the bunch, but clearly something is wrong with her, too, if she’s deciding to marry into this mess. 

After dinner, Hannah, Chris, Chandler, and Cindy are all on clean up duty, and as an act of sick, sick revenge, Hannah spills the beans on Chris’ relationship status. They’re all able to move past it after Cindy has collected herself—she’s very, very upset that Chris didn’t tell anyone she was leaving the country. Very upset. She almost cries over the sink of dirty china. 

“You two will get along, Mama,” Chris tries to comfort her mother. “He’s also mad that I didn’t tell anyone.”

“Well,” Cindy starts, shoveling leftover mashed potatoes into takeaway boxes. “At least one of you has some sense. He could have murdered you.”

“He could’ve,” Chris nods. “He didn’t, though.”

“No,” Cindy chuckles to herself. “He just sucked your blood,” she says, taps her finger gently on Chris’ neck, on the caked-on foundation and concealer and color correctors. Chris looks at her with wide eyes. “Your foundation is the wrong shade, hun.”

Hannah and Chandler burst out laughing, but Chris is still shocked. “You knew!?” She squeals.

“I knew you were… having fun with someone—”

“Mom!” Chris blushes with embarrassment. 

“I didn’t know he was a…” she lowers her voice to a whisper, “racing driver. Or that he lived halfway around the world.”

Chris nods. “It’s more like a quarter, really,” she quips. 

“Christyn Claire,” Cindy warns, and Chris instinctively straightens, quickly finds a task to busy herself with. 

“Yup.”

After dinner clean-up, the girls finally join the rest of the family outside. It’s a cool night, chilly almost, but the bonfire takes the nip out of the cold. Reid and his cousins are running around the yard like little maniacs playing flashlight tag, filling the background with giggles and hollers and the occasional scream that elicits the attention of all the parents when it’s not followed by belly laughs. 

Chase is hunched over the fire, carefully roasting a marshmallow at the request of Hannah, who “could really go for a s’more right now.” For a moment, calmed by the ambiance of the fire and the lull of busy conversations, Chris considers telling him right now, around the extended family where he can’t cause a scene. He’d probably still manage to make one, she thinks, and instead kicks in the back of his knee when he stands up.

“You’re so whipped,” she teases. 

Across the fire, Cindy snaps: “Chris, be nice to your brother.”

“Yeah, Chris,” Chase mocks. “Be nice to your brother.”

“Alors qu’est-ce qui se passe avec cette fille, mec” So, what’s up with this girl, Mate? Joris asks, and everyone at the table’s ears perk up. 

Charles is having lunch with his friends, the whole group—Joris, Hugo, Thomas, Nico, Ricky, and Guizou. Charles rolls his eyes, glares at Joris from across the table. “C'était censé être privé,” That was meant to be private, he says, but it’s too late. 

“Attends, quelle fille?” Wait, what girl? Ricky asks, and Joris giggles like a little girl. 

“Ce n’est rien,” It’s nothing, Charles mumbles, takes a drink of his water and tries to glare so hard into the waitress’s head that she magically spawns at the table to take their order, that she shuts his friends up before they get to talking about Chris. 

It’s not that he’s embarrassed. God, no. Not even sort of. But, people are always listening, always watching. He knows this, and he knows that when they’re all together like this, he and his friends are anything but quiet and subtle. 

“‘Ce n'est rien’, dit-il, puis se promène dans la ville avec sa petite amie,” It's nothing,’ he says, and then walks around town with his girlfriend, Joris says, because the fact that Charles has suddenly gotten shy only eggs him on to keep talking. 

“Oh! Oui! Est-ce la fille avec qui je t'ai vu sur Twitter?” Oh! Yes! Is this the girl I saw you with on Twitter? Guizou asks, and Charles nods, scanning the room carefully. 

“Mec, tu as une nouvelle petite amie? Depuis quand?” Dude, you have a new girlfriend? Since when? Hugo chimes in, shoves Charles’ shoulder playfully. 

“Depuis qu'il la présente à Pascale,” Since he’s introducing her to Pascale, Joris adds. Charles wonders, momentarily, if it’s too late for him to pick a new childhood best friend, to dethrone Joris from this role forever. 

“A ta maman ?? Charlie espèce de mec ! Pourquoi n'avons-nous pas entendu parler d'elle?” To your Mom?? Charlie you dawg! Guizou giggles like a child on the playground. Why haven’t we heard about her?

“Je ne veux pas que ce soit un gros problème.” I don’t want it to be a big deal, Charles mutters, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat. He looks around the room quick and inconspicuously, eyes scanning for anyone looking, anyone listening. He doesn’t see anyone, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t someone. He hates this kind of paranoia. 

“Tu n'aurais pas dû l'amener ici, alors. La course était assez risquée.” You shouldn’t have brought her here, then. The race was risky enough, Joris argues.

“Elle n'était pas à la course!” She was NOT at the race! Thomas laughs, hunched over the table so far he almost knocks over his glass of water. Charles thinks his friends are having far too much fun with this new revelation regarding his relationship status. 

He nods, though, “Elle était.” She was.

“Est-elle apprécié?” Is she cool? Riccardo asks. 

Charles nods and all he can imagine is the horrified look on Chris’ face when he tells her about this the next time they talk. She’s going to freak out, he knows it, and ask him to go over every detail a million and one times. He’ll do it, too, without a complaint. “Elle est très apprécié.” She’s very cool.

“Elle vit en Amérique. Géorgie.” She lives in America. Georgia, Joris adds again, because he really can’t stop himself, no matter how obvious Charles makes it that he doesn’t want to fucking talk about it. 

Hugo scowls. “Comment est-ce?” What’s that like?

Charles shrugs. “Je ne sais pas. Je vais au mariage de son frère dans quelques semaines.” I don’t know. I’m going to her brother’s wedding in a couple weeks. He hasn’t really had the time to fully understand the implications of the four thousand, seven hundred miles between him and his girlfriend just yet. It felt too sweet, too pure, too good to be true until she was standing in front of him again, and it’s only been a few days since he kissed her goodbye. 

“Oh? Rencontrer la famille?” Oh? Nico questions, sly smile on his face. Meeting the family?

“Elle a rencontré le sien!” She met his! Riccardo chimes. 

Nico nods. “Ils vont te détester.” They’re gonna hate you.

“Copain!?” Mate!? Charles exclaims, a laugh forcing its way out of his lips. He knows his friends are just fucking with him, but. Still. Damn, give the guy a break. 

“Je veux dire, tu vis de l'autre côté du globe. Les mamans n'aiment pas ça.” I mean, you live on the other side of the globe, Hugo argues, Moms don’t like that. 

“C'est plutôt un quart du globe.” It’s more like a quarter of the globe, Charles is quick to correct. 

“Est-ce une distinction que vous pensez que ses parents font?” Is that a distinction you think her parents are making? Guizou forces Charles to wonder. He supposes that it doesn’t really matter what distinction her parents are making, it really only matters what she thinks. 

“Ne vous mettez pas dans sa tête, les gars. Il ira bien, c'est de Charles dont nous parlons.” Don’t get in his head, guys, Joris says, finally bringing some sense to the conversation. Cleaning up the mess he’d made.  He’s gonna be fine, this is Charles we’re talking about.

Four days really flies by when you’re avoiding having a conversation with your older brother. Chase’s birthday dinner has come and nearly gone. Reid is already in bed, and Bill and Cindy have long headed home, so only the trio of terror remains. It is quite literally Chris’ last chance to tell Chase about Charles, and she has to. She can’t chicken out, because she’d already told Charles to buy his plane tickets. 

The moment creates itself when Hannah is ushering Reid back to bed for the fourth time in the last hour, because if there is one thing Reid got from his mother, it’s his FOMO. Her departure leaves Chris alone in the kitchen with her brother, who is begrudgingly washing dishes from his own birthday dinner. 

Chris hoists herself up onto the counter of the kitchen island, laying down so her back is spread over the cool marble and her eyes are fixed on the crown molding, half-blinded by the pendant lights that hang over the island. 

“I have to talk to you,” she says. “I’ve been meaning to tell you…” she trails off. It’s her last opportunity to chicken out of telling him, and she knows it. “I’m uh, I’m bringing someone to your wedding. A boy.”

“A boyyyy?” Chase teases, but Chris doesn’t laugh. She’s too busy freaking out. 

“A boy.”

“Who is this boy?” He asks. “Do I know him?”

“You might,” Hannah chimes in, rounding the corner from putting Reid in his straight jacket and locking him in the closet, or something not at all similar. 

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Chris says. “You don’t know him. And uh,” there really isn’t any way to do it but to just rip off the bandaid. “He… drivescarsforaliving.”

“Hmm?” Chase hums. 

“Hedrivescarsforaliving,” Chris repeats, somehow quicker this time than the first. Chase turns around from the sink, soaped-up scrub-daddy still in his hand, and scowls before turning to Hannah.

“Do you hear her?” Hannah shrugs. “What the fuck is she saying?”

Chris takes a deep breath and sits up. Chase rolls his eyes like he doesn’t have time for all these dramatics. “He races.”

“Oh. Stock car?” Chris shakes her head. “Indy?”

“Formula One.”

The gears start spinning in her brother’s brain, his eyes darting between Chris and Hannah like he’s waiting for them to say it’s all a big joke, to burst out laughing. Neither of them do. “F1?” He goads. Chris and Hannah both nod. “What the fuck?” he laughs. “Who?”

“Charles Leclerc.”

“You’re shitting me.” She shakes her head again, awkwardly maneuvers to grab her phone from her back pocket and pulls up a picture of her and Charles on the plane back on the way from Abu Dhabi to Monaco. Charles’ second-place trophy is sat on the floor between his legs, and he’s got his arm around her, the biggest, dumbest smiles on both of their faces. You’d think they had known each other forever, how comfortable they look. “This is fucking crazy.”

“Why aren’t you mad?” She asks, tucking her phone back into her pocket. 

“Why would I give a fuck who you sleep with?” He laughs. “Just let me know if I need to kill him, or something.”

It’s not until he’s well into post-season testing at Maranello, nearly half-way through December that it really sinks in for him just how hard the long-distance thing is going to be. He’s sitting at dinner with Andrea and Joris when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He’s come to memorize the different notifications, and he’s certain this one is a text. He hopes it’s from her. 

It’s not. It’s a Whatsapp notification from the PR groupchat Mia and Slyvia have him in. Charles, hai una ragazza? Do you have a girlfriend, it reads. He blinks at the screen a few times like the message might disappear. It’s not the first time he’s gotten it, the ominous relationship from two people who, as much as he respects Mia and Sylvia, don’t need to know every detail of his dating life. Or any detail, really. 

He knows she wouldn’t be asking him if people weren’t asking her, though, which means there’s a rumor stirring somewhere. 

He opens Twitter first, searches his name and Chris’ name into the search bar. Full names, nicknames, first names only, last names only. Every search comes up with a load of nothing. There’s a sigh of relief, and then he searches just his name, plus girlfriend. Bingo. 

The original tweet, a screenshot of a TikTok, a picture of the two of them walking down the street. It knots his stomach, drops it straight to his feet. Suddenly, he’s not at all hungry for the meal in front of him. Instead, he thinks he’s going to have to fight to keep it down. 

There are probably two hundred, three hundred tweets about him and his quote–en-quote girlfriend. From trying to figure out who she is by searching through his following on Instagram to arguing about if it’s an invasion of privacy or not, with every comment about his ex-girlfriend’s and comparing them to the back of Chris’ head in the middle. It’s a disaster, he thinks, but at least nobody can come up with a name. 

Charles texts Chris before he replies to the team. Don’t freak. There’s a picture of you and I on… everything. No faces. You can call me if you want. And then to Mia and Sylvia, sure do.

Can I call you? Mia replies. 

No.

He’s mad. Fuming, almost. At the invasion of privacy, at the fact that he gives so much of his time to strangers, over and over again he maintains the mindset that it costs him nothing to give them some of his time. At the realization that no matter how much he gives them, they will always, always feel entitled to taking what he tries to keep. It will never be enough for them. 

He’s mad at himself, too. The how-could-I-let-this-happen kind of mad that feels a lot more like a never-ending pang of guilt in your chest. He didn’t know they were around fans, but didn’t he? He’s always around a fan in Monaco, it seems like, and here he is putting his arm around her while they walk down the street? Sending out the siren for anyone who might want to pry into his private life? It’s a mistake he never should have made. He’s smarter than this. 

He fumes silently at the table while everyone around him talks about their meals and the atmosphere and all he can think about, the only track his mind can follow, is what Chris is doing at that very moment.

He knows the time difference like it’s nothing, automatically converts it in his head when he looks at his watch. It’s 2:30 in the afternoon in Georgia, so she's at work. Today is Tuesday, which means special is at… 2? It’s art day, and he knows art is at 2. Or it is Gym today? Gym is at… what time is gym at? He can’t remember. 

He’s watching Mia type, stop typing, and start again, his leg bouncing under the table, shaking the booth underneath him. Undoubtedly, she’s typing up some essay for him to read. 

Chris calls, and he answers before the first ring can finish vibrating. “Hi,” he says, soft. “Hi,” he repeats, this time harder, calmer. Everything is fine.

Silently, he shoos Joris out of the booth so he can step away. 

“Hi,” she says, like she doesn’t have a care in the world, like social media isn’t digging through every interaction he’s had for the last month with pitchforks trying to find her. 

“Are you okay?” He’s asking before he can even process the emotions—or lack thereof—in her voice. It’s like he’s blind. The type of angry where you’re clouded by it, where all he can think about is her. 

He navigates through the restaurant, trying to find a corner of quiet solace. He can’t go outside, there were fans out there when he’d shown up. Maybe the bathroom will be empty, he hopes. 

“Yeah,” Chris says, and he lets out a heavy breath, the one he’d been unable to release since he got that first text. He thinks he believes her, that she’s okay, and that he’s freaking out over nothing. “I mean, you said there weren’t any faces, so…”

“I’m sorry that this happened like this,” he offers, ducking his head into the bathroom, peeking under the stalls. He finds one pair of shoes and settles for the hallway outside the bathrooms—there’s more room to pace there, anyways. 

“Like what?” She laughs. She fucking laughs, and it stops him dead in his tracks. His head falls back to the sky, a sharp exhale—practically a laugh of his own—leaves his nose. Of course, she’s laughing. “This is exactly how we knew it would happen.”

“It’s my fault, I should have acted different.”

If he closes his eyes, he swears he can see the frown on her face, the familiar little disappointed sigh filling his ear. “Don’t do that,” she says. “You were just being… just existing. You’re allowed to exist. I’m sorry that anyone feels entitled to your existence.”

God, she can be so annoying sometimes; has to go and make all this sense all the time, makes all his nondescript, word-scramble of thought feel simple and linear. She does it so easily, understands him with infuriating ease. Avec toi, je suis moi, he’d say, if he could properly convey it. 

He bites the nail on his pointer finger. “Are you sure you are okay?”

“Yes, babe,” she laughs again. It feels like she’s always laughing. He could listen to it, to the million variations of her laugh, for a long time. Maybe until he can’t hear anymore. “I’m so okay. The okay-est. Are you okay?”

“Me? I’m fine, yeah. Just worrying about you.” He’s not okay, but. He signed up for this life, and she didn’t. Charles asked for this, worked hard to have this. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to be upset when stuff like this happens, all things considered. 

“I can hear it in your voice. You’re mad. Talk to me. I have fifteen minutes until I have to get my kids from art.” Tuesdays mean art class, he was right. He knew. 

Charles groans, thinks that this must be how toddlers feel right before they throw a tantrum, when they have all these contradictory thoughts flying around every corner of his brain and he can’t make sense of a single one of them. “I just. God, I just. Fuck, I feel guilty to get upset, you know?”

“I know. You don’t have to feel guilty with me, though.”

“I don’t know, sometimes it is just,” he’s pacing again. He wishes more than anything, more than anything, that she could just be here. That they could be having this conversation on a couch somewhere together. Missing her is hard when things are going good, because all he thinks about is how much better they’d be if she was there. But when things are bad, when he’s about ready to channel his sixteen-year-old self and punch a hole through a wall, he can feel all four thousand and seven hundred miles. “It makes me angry that less and less things are mine. I can not even walk down a street without getting a call from my press officer. I belong to everyone but to me, and I know that I am very lucky to have this life I have, and I love driving more than anything. It just gets bigger and bigger and more out of control. And God. Fuck, I am so mad about this,” he pauses, waits for her to say something, but she doesn’t. She just holds the empty space. “I don’t know why I’m so mad about this one. I mean, I know that it’s because it’s not just me, it’s you too. But fuck, I’m pissed off.”

“You don’t need to protect me,” she says, and he rolls his eyes. He knows he doesn’t need to. 

“I know, but I want to. I want to be able to.”

Without pause, she says: “You could. I mean, I felt safe enough to fly halfway across the world without telling anyone I was leaving, right?” He smiles. God, it really bugged him that she did that. She should have told someone. Anyone. We’re keeping it lowkey, she’s said and he didn’t know what to say. He remembers thinking it’s a trip, not the fucking nuclear codes. 

“It’s actually closer to a quarter of the way around the world, you know?” He jokes. It’s such a stupid distinction to make. Half the world, quarter of the world. Who cares, really? It’s all too far. A six hour time difference just feels a little easier than a twelve hour one. 

“Yeah,” she says quietly, and he’s certain she’s been making the same distinction, reminding herself of the same thing to make it that little bit easier. “Yeah, that’s what I said.”

He leans against the wall of the narrow hallway, facing it, resting his forehead against the wallpaper and closing his eyes. He imagines he’s going back to a table with her sitting in the booth, that she’s inside the restaurant waiting for him. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“Are you sure you are okay?”

“Are you?” 

“Yes,” he lies. She pauses like she can tell, like she’s trying to figure out if it’s worth it to call him on it. He really hopes she doesn’t, isn’t sure how much longer he can try to have a conversation like this with her while standing in the bathroom hallway at a random Italian restaurant. 

“Promise it won’t ruin your night?”

He chuckles. “I promise no such thing.”

“Okay,” she says quietly. 

“Two days,” he says, a reminder for him, a reminder for her. Two days until you’re in front of me. Two days and some change, for him—less than that for her. That’s what happens when you’re on different ends of the world, even your days are measured differently sometimes. 

“Two days.”

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thank you per usual for @silverstonesainz for being my forever beta mwah mwah

#ma&thbp #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x oc #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc #scuderia ferrari #ferrari f1 #f1 fic #f1 edit #f1 fandom #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc

[meguriv]

•Midnight•

❣ Denji x fem reader❣

18+

Note: This is my first fic ever, also English is not my native language. I apologize for any horrible mistakes, however I did try my best in correcting any errors. (Sorry if this is cringe ejejshwhwh)

Also if anyone reading this has any tips for writing I would really appreciate you sharing them in a comment or message!

Warnings: 18+, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, reader is a virgin (so is Denji), blood.

Word count: 2k

It was midnight, the window was open, letting the cool air of the night into your room. You rested your head on your desk, waiting for your boyfriend.

You have been going out with Denji for only two weeks, you both really liked each other, maybe a little too much.

That’s why there was a lingering tension between the two of you, sexual tension perhaps?

He never got to sleep with a girl and you were a virgin as well. That’s why you decided to invite him home this late in the night, both of you with clear intentions in mind.

Suddenly you jumped in your seat, it seems you feel asleep-

“Hey” a familiar voice said. Looking to your left you saw Denji “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you, but I saw the window open and I couldn’t resist jumping in” you smiled at that “I left it open for you”.

There was now a very uncomfortable silence, neither of you knew what to say. He took his jacket off and rested it on the window, he was still wearing part of his school uniform. No matter how many times you saw him in those clothes, you couldn’t take your eyes off his body.

You were looking at each other, he seemed to get a step closer at a time, slowly.

There was a lot of tension like usual, but he was more determined this time.

The light in the room was just perfect, a full moon and distant lights in the street made the ideal atmosphere.

You couldn’t handle it anymore, you were getting tired of the shy girl act and put your hands on his shoulders softly.

“Denji…please, touch me”. He seemed hesitant for a moment “hm” that’s all he could say, grabbing your wrists to put them around his neck, then slowly placing his hands on your waist.

You felt his lips on yours, and then his tongue, it was too much. It started to get heated and passionate very quickly.

You broke the kiss for a moment to breathe, your face felt like it might explode. Looking at him you saw his half lidded eyes on you, his lips looking for yours again.

It wasn’t the first time you kissed, in fact your first kiss with him was the way you confessed. After a few months since his first day at school as a new student, you finally had the courage to express your feelings and it appeared he liked you too, or at least he liked the fact that you liked him.

Your bodies were pressed against each other, you could feel his erection through his pants starting to grow, it made you so happy that you couldn’t help to bring your hand down, earning a soft groan from him.

“Can I…?” you said still shy but much more eager this time, “Yes” he didn’t know what you meant exactly, but when you pushed him softly to sit at the edge of your bed and got on your knees, he understood.

His cheeks grew hot, he has never had anyone suck his dick before and he didn’t expect such a thing from you either.

As you slid his pants and underwear down, his erection sprung free, making you nervous finally realizing what you have gotten yourself into. Having never done this before, your were scared to mess up but it was too late to back down now. Your brain was full of impure thoughts and no amount of anxiousness could stop you now.

You started at the tip licking it slowly, you knew you had to use your tongue properly for this, you were really just improvising. You tried to fit his entire length in your mouth little by little, using your own hand to help with the job

“A-ah so good” the way he said that made you rub your thighs together, whining softly into his cock.

He placed his hand on the back of your head, playing with your hair softly trying to bring you forward with each bob of your head. “I-I’m close please stop or I will-”

But you didn’t stop, you have dreamed of tasting him for so long all you could think about was sucking him dry with your mouth. You needed his release deep down your throat. It was a greedy pace until he started to move his hips forward reaching deeper and deeper, tears finally spilling from your eyes.

“ S-sorry I can’t stop- it feels so good, ah- so good-!” his moans were music to your ears, you wanted to let him know that the tears were from happiness rather than discomfort, but how could you? His dick was so deep inside your throat you feared you might loose your voice.

He came hard and it wouldn’t stop, it seemed like minutes past and he was still releasing thick ropes of cum, his voice cracking and cursing loudly. You didn’t let a single drop go to waste swallowing bit by bit, the action made him hard again.

After his breaths slowed down he looked down at you, face still red, he could barely process what had just happened all he knew is how turned on he was.

He then fixed his eyes on your clothed body, “Take that off”

You didn’t expect him to order you, but you didn’t complain. Getting back on your feet you took off your nightgown slowly sliding it off of you until it landed on your feet.

His eyes landed immediately on your breasts, you felt exposed but felt yourself grow wet at his gaze.

“Take that off too” he was referring to your panties. You had carefully picked out a laced pair to wear just for him but he didn’t seem to care (that’s the kind of guy he is, you thought).

You did as you were told, however Denji was getting impatient and decided to grab your waist and pull you on the bed.

“Too slow”. Both his hands rested on your breasts, starting to squeeze them.

Denji was feeling overwhelmed by all of this, he did prepare himself mentally before coming to your house this late at night, but when he had you pinned underneath him completely naked and vulnerable, he started to shake a bit, both from anxiousness and excitement.

“It’s okay Denji, you can do whatever you want…please make me feel good” you said sighing at the soft touch of his hands on your breasts, he realised how sensitive you were there.

After you said that, all of his worries faded away. The only thing on his mind right know was fucking you good. He quickly took his shirt off, almost ripping it open, you laughed a little at how eager he was.

He started to kiss you again this time pushing his tongue inside your mouth with no mercy, his hand travelled south, feeling how wet you were already, he inserted a finger making you gasp.

The felling of one of his fingers alone was already too much for you. Your soft moans making him go crazy, he decided to insert a second finger.

His moves were rather clumsy but at the same time it was driving you insane. Just like you earlier, he was just improvising.

“Deeenjii aah I’m going to cum don’t stop aah~” you almost cried,

“Yea? cum for me then, that’s it” his hand moved faster finally hitting that sweet spot inside of you.

He felt you coming as you were tightening around his fingers, making a mess of his hand. While you were recovering from your high he pulled out and started to separate his fingers, looking at your arousal splitting in strings. His tongue went out to lick at them, humming at the taste,

“hmm~ It’s good, here have some too” he brought his hand to your mouth, you grabbed his wrist an started to slowly lick at his fingers until they were clean.

He caught your mouth into his again, you two shared another messy kiss. It felt a little dirty but so good at the same time.

He couldn’t get enough of you, so he started to grind his hard cock against your inner thigh.

He started to lick your neck making you moan again, another sensitive spot he found. Suddenly he bit hard on your skin, enough to draw blood-

“AH! Denji! It hurts!! What are you-?” He was drinking the blood that spilled from your neck, you wanted to stop him as you started to get scared but the pain faded away replacing it by pleasure.

“I needed this, your blood I need it…” you didn’t understand what he meant but to be honest you didn’t care anymore, after all, you did say he could do whatever he wanted with you.

Licking the trail of blood from your neck, he stopped at your breasts, admiring them once again, this time sucking harshly at your nipples, more whines filled the room.

He switched his attention from one breast to the other, taking his sweet time there while he guided his cock with his free hand to your cunt, rubbing at the entrance.

He was teasing but both of you were enjoying it, no need to rush things, after all this is your first time.

Denji was now looking at you as he kept moving his erection up and down your wet folds. The stare was intense, you saw him smile softly with half closed eyes, you returned the smile

“I’ll put it in now okay?” he said closer to your ear this time, “please don’t hold back” you said as you felt like your heart was going to burst.

He indeed didn’t hold back, seeing how wet you were he pushed himself inside of you in one go, holding one of your legs up for easier access. You both moaned at the new feelings, minds getting clouded with pure lust.

Without warning he started to move, none of you holding back any sounds, if someone walked outside the house they would definitely hear everything.

It felt so good, Denji is a natural you thought, sure you didn’t have anyone to compare him to, but the way he moved fast and hard inside of you made your vision blurry.

“So good, you feel so good inside of me, aah~ right there!” you finished the sentence with a sob, it was so good you could cry.

All Denji managed to do was moan, he was trying to say something but he seemed to struggle, you were so tight around him it made him go stupid “Aaah~ hm S-say my, my name, say it” is all you could understand.

“Denji” you complied

“Again” he said

“Deenji~”

“Again” he hit your g-spot this time

“Denji!!” you screamed,

“Say it again!”

“Denji! Ahh! I’m going to cum! yesyesyes right there don’t stop!” He brought his forehead to yours, sweat dripping from both of you. He started cursing you could tell he was close too.

Your hand grabbed at his blond locks pulling his head back a little, and then you came, your walls clenching around him which made him spill his seed deep inside you.

Both of you were riding out your orgasm as much as possible, hips still moving slowly.

He didn’t pull out, your legs were still wrapped around his waist.

He was looking into your eyes yet again, the tiredness becoming clear. He dropped himself onto you, head rested on your chest, where he liked to be the most.

A noticeable silence filled the room. Both of you about to fall asleep to the soft sound of your breathing.

Who would have thought that you would end up with him like this, after falling in love with him practically the same day you met him.

I really am in love with him, you thought to yourself, and with that you drifted into a deep sleep only hoping that he felt the same way.

If only you knew that you made his dream come true…

#denji x reader #chainsaw man #chainsaw man x reader #denji #csm denji #not sfw #denji imagines #csm

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Felton - Risk

A/N - Despite writing this 8 months ago, it hasn’t been uploaded anywhere. I forgot about it until a few days ago, redrafted it, and here we go. With the (not so) recent blow up of Draco-tok and Tom’s increased following, I thought it would be a good time to upload as well, and it has a summer feel to escape the disgracefully bitter winter here in Britain. I do not own the song lyrics used. I do not know Tom, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction and entirely my own. 

Warnings - cursing, legal alcohol consumption, mutual pining, 3.4k words of fluff and angst. Nothing further.

Summary - After your break up, one that pained you to the bone, you try to escape and you find yourself taking that one risk you always thought you should, travelling. A simple day out, and the one person you don’t want to see is the one person who can help you with your car troubles. Could he help with your heart troubles too, over a reminiscent dinner perhaps?

RISK, that’s what this is. You’re taking a risk for once in your life, living a new experience and stepping outside of your comfort zone. That's what you’re supposed to do to get over a particularly brutal break up, isn’t it? So here you are, finding yourself again, exploring places you’ve always wanted to go. Current destination: Cape Town, South Africa. A haven.

You came here on a whim. Looking up some cheap prices from when you were in Barcelona, and surprisingly, you got a good direct flight and hotel deal for more than a reasonable price. 

Before your break up, you’d never have dreamt of this. You were content with your life of luxury in LA with your boyfriend after dating for a while, but with his insane work schedule and travelling, you just couldn’t reasonably keep up with the relationship. You felt neglected, work and Willow always coming above you, and you couldn’t just be solely financially reliable on him, even if he was a millionaire. So after a long few days of gruelling arguments, you packed your bags and did what he told you to do.

“Live your life the way you couldn’t do with me holding you back.”

He was sorry, so sorry, heartbroken. I can still see his face when he let me go. Too darling to forget or stay mad at. You’ve just got to find the part of yourself that stayed with him, and maybe you’ll find it half way across the globe in between gorgeous beaches and scenic mountains while staying in a luxurious five star hotel.

Your days have been filled with hiking and swimming, spa days and sunbathing, fancy meals and getting drunk under the stars. But even though you’re living the dream, you haven’t quite found yourself yet. Maybe you will with your sightseeing plans for later on.

This afternoon, after you’ve spent the morning hiking, you’re ready for a calm afternoon back at your hotel, a leisurely swim in the pool to cool down and maybe some sunning on the adjoining beach.

You make your way back to the car you hired, a beat up jeep, but it’s a pleasure to drive around the mountains. But as you walk back there, you see someone. No, it can’t be him. It was just someone with the same hairstyle as him. Wearing the same shirt that he used to wear all the time. And wearing the same glasses. It has to be a coincidence, he can’t be here, it’s just your mind playing tricks. 

Part of you even wants him to be here, but the correct part of your brain knows that your longing thought us nothing more than wantonly cohorted, made up from missing him and being away from the last place you could call home. So without another thought, you open the door to the car and climb into the driver's seat. You’re suddenly conscious of the way you’re dressed: canvas shorts with a sun top and billowy button down, but even if it is more of a practical outfit, you still look damn good in it, so calm yourself down.

Starting the car is easier said than done, because as soon as you slot the key in and turn it, the engine vibrates for a few seconds and lets out a low grumble, and then it dies. Internally you curse yourself, and you hit the steering wheel a few times to release some steam. This was always Tom’s area of expertise, you never had to deal with car mechanics, but instead of making it a big deal, you give it a go again, only for the engine to crash again.

Footsteps sound outside the car on the gravel and sand, and then a head appears at your rolled down window, followed by a voice you never thought you’d hear again.

“Need some help, Miss?”

You turn your head so quickly that you feel something pull. No no no, he cannot be here on your get away trip. 

He smiles at you lopsidedly until realisation dawns on his face. In that moment, his cheeks fall and his red eyes droop. He is definitely high, but high tom is the best tom, all slow and cuddly.

“W-what are you doing here, Y/N?” he asks incredulously, his enunciated British tone raspy and soothing all at once, grounding you.

“Vacation. Um, you?” 

You fumble over your words, scrutinised under the piercing blue of his eyes behind his glasses.

“Filming.” he says.

Even after you split up, you’d never expected it to get this awkward if you ever met again. You’re definitely not over him yet, you can tell by the way butterflies flitter inside your stomach just at the sight of his day-old stubble and the tufts of sun kissed hair that poke out from his cap.

“That’s, um, nice,” you respond and offer him a shy smile, “Would you mind, um?”

He nods and moves around to the hood of the car. You watch as he turns his cap around and rolls up his sleeves, revealing his gorgeously tanned and toned forearms. You lose yourself and all inhibitions as he works to find out the problem, his seamless movements and his cute thinking face that crinkles his forehead and scrunches his nose. How he’s always so willing to help in any circumstance and the undying love that he revels in day after day, it’s like basking in eternal joy whenever you’re around Tom because not a single moment is dull. You can’t help but remember the way it felt when he kissed you, the fire that his touch left in its wake, the gentle way he held you through countless nights.

“Sorted, sweet pea.” he says, leaning against your car door with his head against the window frame. 

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “No one’s called me that since you.” 

The words are out before you can stop them, your sad smile unmoving from your face despite being filled with longing, and it just so happens to match his expression exactly.

“I have to film this afternoon, but how about I take you out for dinner? We can just, I don’t know, catch up? It can’t be a coincidence that we’ve bumped into each other.”

You don’t even have to think before the answer is spilling from your lips rather enthusiastically, a definite yes with a vigorous nod. He chuckles, slipping his hand through the window to clasp yours.

“I still have your number, so I’ll text you a time and place, yeah sweet pea? I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” you murmur, “bye tom.”

You watch as he walks away before starting the car, your thoughts the whole way back to the hotel filled with nothing but Tom and thoughts for the night. Dinner with your ex really is a risk, but maybe, just maybe if he reciprocated your lingering feelings, it’ll pay off.

No matter how much you want to spend the afternoon carelessly swimming and enjoying yourself, taking in the views all around you and revelling in the South African sunlight, you simply can’t. Every moment you close your eyes, Tom’s smile illuminates your thoughts and fills your body with a prickling longing. It’s a bitter feeling that scares you, unnerving you and forcing you to lose all hope for the night ahead. Your phone buzzes on your way to the spa, thinking maybe a hot stone massage will clear your mind, but you quit when you see what he’s written. You haven’t deleted his number from your phone either.

PAPI ♡ : What hotel are you at? I’ll grab you for dinner at 7. Dress fancy, preferably in that nice black dress I love, but you look perfect in everything. T x

That black dress. The same one you haven’t worn since your last night out before the break up. Maybe you will wear it, maybe you won’t. You tap out a reply, signing with a smiley face and no kisses no matter how much you want to press that x like there’s a gravitational pull, but it just doesn’t feel right in the circumstances. 

PAPI ♡ : I’ll be there, sweet pea. T x

That might be Tom’s worst habit of them all. Constantly signing his texts with ‘T’ when you obviously know that it’s him. It used to gnaw at you, especially when he’d send particularly needy texts, multiple in a row, and sign them all the same way, but often, it was rather cute. He always was crap with technology. 

All the memories come flying back at a terrifying pace, the different texts calling to you from your phone, begging for you to relive the good old days. No, you can’t. You won’t give in to such an insane impulse. It’s bad enough that you agreed to go to dinner with your ex, you can’t let anything cloud your mind to make you more malleable for the night. So to resist temptation, you throw your belongings down on a sun lounger and grasp a cocktail over a nearby bar, downing it briefly before diving head first and breaking the surface of the water. Maybe a swim will distract you until you have to get ready.

Tom spent his whole afternoon messing up lines. Not for a minute could he focus. His lunchtime beer ended up being drunk faster than he’d wanted to, and he hardly ate a thing, for his stomach was filled with butterflies. Whenever anything was said in the script or on set that linked his mind back to you, he went hazy for a solid minute. Every time he’d try to pull himself together, and would fail, remembering how your hands felt when you tied his hair back or undressed him. 

Eventually, it was too much.

“CUT!” the director screamed an hour early. “Stop, just stop. Go home, sleep, come back tomorrow. We haven’t got a single decent shot in hours, Felton.”

Tom gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down beneath a feathering of stubble that had made its way down there. Faintly, he nodded and ran a trembling hand through his hair before pulling a cap on. He rolled his sleeves up briefly, wandered to his dressing room, and fell into a chair, his thoughts whirring around his head too fast for him to form a sensical sentence. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? So, he grabbed his belongings and ran to his car, driving to his hotel to play his sorrows away while awaiting your date.

Once coming in from the pool, you spend a few hours prepping yourself, primping and dressing for the date. You want to look good for Tom, but also for yourself. You always dressed up to feel good about yourself and it was just a bonus that Tom worshipped you, even more when he knew you’d made an extra effort. Curling your hair, dabbing on lipstick, even buckling the straps on your sandals fills your stomach with butterflies and gives you goose bumps all over your skin, already prickling with the blush you received from looking in the mirror. It’s time.

Your walk out to the front of the hotel feels foreign, your ankles wobbling in the heels you decided on, and even as the humid air hits you, you feel a little exposed and chilled. However, any anxiety dissipates when you see Tom walking towards you, a dopey and ever loving smirk on his sun kissed face, crisp chinos with loafers and a billowy button down, loose around the neck. The evening breeze blows the short sleeves up and gives you a peek at the curls of ink that hug his arm in the shape of a dog, the same as how you see the contrast on his ankle between the dark palm trees and his white skin.

You don’t realise you’ve been standing still and tearing apart his every exquisite feature until he’s an inch away from you and his fingers have slipped around your own, holding your hand loosely and keeping you close.

“Hi.” he says, his mouth pulling to a grin.

“Hi.” you return, pacing your fingers with his own more intricately to distract yourself from how crimson your cheeks are.

“Come on,” he picks up his pace back to where he’s parked, “I’ve got a surprise.”

He plays show tunes the whole journey, silly show tunes that put a smile on your face and ones you can’t help but sing along to. He keeps his calloused palm on your knee, brushing some hair behind your ears or sneaking a kiss on your cheeks whenever possible, but the journey isn’t long enough for anything major, nor long enough for you to take apart every piece of hospitality he’s offered you so far. It���s just dinner with an ex, right? Yeah, that is until he pulls up outside a five-star luxury restaurant, complete with a mini ballroom floor and a stage where stands a woman in an evening gown, warbling out in a different language.

“We’re around the back, I have connections.”

His smile is as luminous as the twinkling lights that he’s had arranged in the trees on the back terrace of the restaurant. One table sits with a bottle of wine balanced precariously atop, a single rose in a fluted vase, two wine glasses and sets of cutlery, and with the sun setting and the fairy lights, it’s perfectly ambient. You want to speak, but you can’t find the words. Maybe, if he pulled out all the stops this way, he feels the same as you do.

He pulls your chair out before sitting down himself, pours your glass of rose wine first, and even orders your favourite meal. The amount of times you’ve ordered that very same thing though, it must be ingrained in his mind. Neither of you say a word except for meek thank you’s, and tension fills the air, not ceasing until the waiter delivers a bread platter.

“Oh,” Tom says to the waiter, a little startled, “do you have any crackers? She doesn’t eat bread before meals, or, well, at all.”

The waiter nods and scurries away, but you’re left with a burning blush on your cheeks, anxiously tucking your hair behind your ears.

“You remembered,” you chuckle softly, feeling a little giddy even though its one of your more stupid habits.

“Of course I did, I remember everything about you.”

He reaches over the table and leaves his palm open. You give it a moment of thought before wrapping your fingers around his own, tracing the lines and sun spots. He’s so familiar yet so different, your time apart somehow meeting your shared experiences, the cons outweighing the pros, something causing a barrier.

You engage in small talk while you eat, simple conversations of how you’ve been and what you’ve been up to, only very few anecdotes shared from your past relationship. It feels so natural between the two of you, just the sight of his wispy dark blonde curls is still enough to make your heart flutter, but both of you are holding something back. Nothing changes until you’re half-way through your second bottle of wine, liquid courage making you buzz.

“Do you miss me?” you ask, holding nothing back, taking just one more risk before you close off the Tom chapter of your life for good. “Do you miss us? The way we were? Who we were with each other?”

He doesn’t say a word, only looks at you with heavy blue eyes, pleading.

“Do you miss the way I used to kiss you good morning? The way you’d kiss me goodnight? The good times we had, even the bad. Do you not miss me at all?”

He swallows thickly and takes a heavy swig of wine. He signals to a waiter who clears your dishes, and then he leans on his bare forearms over the table, both of his hands holding yours as he stares into your soul, those mystical ocean eyes boring into your pained soul.

“I miss it all,” he says in his hoarse tone, “I miss you and our life more than you can imagine. If it was up to me, I’d never have let you go, but I couldn’t keep you tied down. So before you leave forever, can we have one nice night and pretend like we aren’t completely fucking broken?”

You see tears in his eyes, threatening to fall down his cheeks at any given moment. You hold his hands tighter, letting your soft fingers dance up his arms, anything to feel the warmth of his skin against you once more.

“I wish I hadn’t left.” you whisper, Hoping that the sound is blown away with the wind, or disguised by the melodious singing from just inside the restaurant, but no. He hears your words as clear as day.

“Then don’t go. Don’t leave me again. Come back and we’ll make it better, I won’t work, we don’t need to, and you can live out all of your goals too. It’s high time that you come back where you belong, by my side. Don’t leave again, Sweet pea. Please.”

You’ve never heard him sound so desperate. He clings to you, kisses your hands, and when you’re too dumbfounded to respond, he gently pulls you up and brings you upright to a flat area of the terrace.

A sweet and familiar melody flows with the wind and the bird song, softly filling your ears from the restaurant, seeping into your own little circle with Tom. He cradles his forearm around your waist, his hand splayed on the small of your back. His other cups the palm of your hand gracefully as you rest your head on his cloth covered shoulder. He still smells the same, that same mix of smoke and beer and firewood as always, the musk of his aftershave lingering on the expanse of his neck, a faint sweat from the sun clinging to his freckles.

As soon as the lyrics start, you bury your head further into Tom’s neck, chest to chest, keeping him close.

‘Come on skinny love just last a year,

Pour a little salt we were never here,’

“Come home with me and let's pretend you never left.” Tom suggests, swaying in time with the music, your body moving in time with his even if you aren’t particularly responsive to what he’s saying. “It’ll be better now. We can make it better.”

You hum against his neck noncommittal, the vibrations sending warmth through his chest. His hands roam your body, the snug fitting of his favourite dress hugging your body all too familiar to him. It’s muscle memory to trace the contours of your body beneath the black poplin, the gaps of lace giving him a peek to your dappled skin, and the slightly lower neckline still driving him crazy. His chinos hold his legs and give the silhouette of his muscles, tensing as he dances meek waltz steps, his body naturally leading the way for yours to follow, his shirt blowing open more as you hold him closer. His warmth is what you need, his body, his heart, all of him.

“I want to come back, we’ll make it work,” you whisper, toppling between your heels in what somehow resembles a slow dance to the music still coursing through your veins and making you alive.

‘In the morning I'll be with you

But it will be a different kind

'Cause I'll be holding all the tickets

And you'll be owning all the fines’

“Let's take the risk, sweet pea.”

His voice is no more than a hoarse whisper, illuminating your mind in places that you forgot, his words making your heart flutter. This is it, you love him and you have to go back with him.

‘Come on skinny love…’

“Maybe, “ you start, “Just maybe, this isn’t skinny love anymore.”

Reaching up on your tiptoes and cupping the back of his neck, gently tugging the hair at the nape, you bring his lips down to yours, finally meeting in a kiss, one that’s been months coming. He brings his palms up to your cheeks, holding and caressing while your eyes are squeezed shut, focussing on the deepening massage of his lips against yours. It’s so welcoming, so warming, so homely. This was definitely a risk worth taking.

#tom felton #draco malfoy #tom felton imagine #draco malfoy imagine #draco tok #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fluff #tom felton smut #tom felton fluff #draco fan fic #thomas felton

[sokkas-honour]

Let’s say #10 of the Spotify wrapped writing for Korra :)

ANON HOW DID YOU KNOW

girls - korra x reader

pairing: korra x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k with lyrics

warning/notes: i can’t think of anything, but if there is fee free to message me!

taglist (message me/fill out form): @draqondance @biqherosix

i've been hiding for so long, these feelings, they're not gone, can i tell anyone?

you stared at her from across the room, god she was beautiful. the way she laughed and joked around with your brother made you heart soar, the sheer sound of her joy making your day.

you snapped out of your staring when your older brother came by, a stack of empty boxes in his arms as he dropped them on the ground, the thump getting your attention.

“oh thank god you found the boxes mako.” you sighed in relief at the fear of not finding the boxes to put back all the decorations used for varrick and zhu li’s wedding.

“they were in ikki’s room for some reason.” makos discovery caused a laugh to come out, your brother following your lead.

“how in the world did they end up there?” you wondered as you grabbed some of the decorations off the tables and placed them delicately into one of the boxes.

“no idea.” he answered, taking the decorations off of the other tables and copying you.

“you two need some help?” you felt your cheeks heat up and heart pick up as you heard the voice of the woman you loved dearly. you met her eyes and smiled.

“i wouldn’t say no to it.” you joked, smile growing bigger as you watched her laugh.

mako called bolin over for help as korra worked on the same tables as you did. working in unison, your hands accidentally landed on top of each other’s as you grabbed the same center piece, a blush erupting on both of your cheeks.

once you were done and your brothers went to bring the majority of the boxes to where varrick wanted them to, you were left alone with your girlfriend.

“i saw you staring before, you’re not very discreet.” korra teased once the both of you were alone which just made heat rush to your cheeks which just made her laugh at your flustered expression.

“yeah well youre insanely cute when you laugh.” you answered, arms wrapping around her waist and head being placed on her chest as you breathed in her comforting scent.

“i’m always cute.” she joked, earning a small chuckle from you as you looked up to her, loving smile adorning her face.

when you thought you heard someone coming, you quickly unwrapped yourself and jumped back, afraid of them seeing you two hug. you looked around frantically only to find that you were still alone. with a sigh of relief, you returned your attention to the avatar whos expression had changed to one of slight disappointment.

“y/n, we can’t keep sneaking around like this. one day or another, we should tell the others. you especially should come out to your brothers.” she sighed. you two had gotten together right after defeating kuvira but she had come out a while before leaving for the south pole after zaheer.

it hurt korra to see you living some sort of double life, lying to your brothers who tried to get you to bring someone to th wedding about you seeing someone, your brothers still fully thinking that you were only interested in men which would be the opposite of the truth.

“i know, i’ll tell them one day but i just, don’t know when.” you shrugged off your concerns and told a white lie to the girl in front of you.

afraid of what they'll say, so i push them away, i’m acting so strange

“y/n, you’re not telling the truth. i’m your girlfriend, we may have only been together for a little over two weeks but we’ve been friends for years, i can tell when you’re lying.” she informed, placing her hand over yours that was limp next to your hip. you grabbed onto it and sighed, you knew you were going to caught and have to voice your fears eventually but some part of you had hoped that your girlfriend wasn’t as smart as she said she was, she unfortunately wasn’t.

“sometimes i forgot how much of a genius you are.” you smiled half heartedly as she looked at you concerned, wanting to know the reason why you were still in the closet after supposed years of knowing your sexuality.

“babe come on, you can tell me.” she insisted, giving your hand a little squeeze from encouragement.

you took a deep breath in and let it out it, coming yourself in order to tell your girlfriend the reason why you hadn’t come out yet.

“i just. i don’t know how mako and bolin will react.” you finally admitted, feeling as though a huge weight was lifted from your shoulders when suddenly, the girl in front of you starting laughing. you quirked an eyebrow, wondering why the hell was she laughing.

“y/n! you saw how they reacted when i came out! they were completely and utterly fine with it! hell they were super supportive of me!” she reasoned once her laughter died down.

“i know but i’m their sister, it’s different.”

“no y/n it isn’t. why would it be any different.” she asked, confused at your stupid reasoning:

“i mean for one, they’re going to be mad i never told them anything, especially since i’ve already dated a girl or two. two, they might find it a tad bit weird when we tell them we’re dating.”

“well your first reason could’ve been avoided if you’d told them in the first place.” she pointed out, earning a small blush from you. “and second, they won’t, trust me. mako might be a bit stunned but he’ll be 100% supportive, don’t even get me started on bolin.”

“you’re right, i should probably tell them.” you sighed in defeat, head turning slightly to stare at the building on air temple island where your brothers probably were.

“if you want ill be there.” she proposed, her free hand placing itself on your cheek to which you gladly leaned into.

“yeah, i’d like that.”

they're so pretty, it hurts, im not talking 'bout boys, I'm talking 'bout girls, they're so pretty with their button-up shirts.

after dinner, mako, bolin, and you were on kitchen duty to clean the dishes, giving you the perfect opportunity to finally come out to your brothers and stop hiding.

as you finished drying a plate, you decided that it was time. especially since bolin was bringing up the idea of setting you up with someone.

“okay so y/n, i found this great guy that you’ll love. super sweet, super nice, super good looking, bolin approved guy.” your younger brother told you, scrubbing the food off one of the dishes.

“that’s nice bo but i’ve got something to tell you both.” in an almost perfect synchronised moment, both of them stopped what they were doing and turned to you. with both of their eyes on you, you froze a bit.

“sure y/n, what’s up?” mako encouraged, seeing your slightly stunned state and helping you snap out of it.

“i’m gay.” you blurted out. mentally smacking yourself for saying it so bluntly and straight to the point.

“knew it.” mako smirked as bolin let out a big ‘ohhhhh’.

“okay then, i think i know this one really nice, sweet, bolin approved girl that i believe also likes girls.” the earthbender quickly responded, correcting his previous date proposition to adjust it to the news.

“thanks bo but that’s not necessary.” you smiled gratefully at the youngest of you three before turning your attention to the eldest.

“what makes you say that mako?” you inquired, curious as to why your brother wasn’t very surprised at the news.

“well um, i.” mako stumbled over his words, slightly unsure of how to go about it but he recomposed himself. “i think you forget that as your older brother, i was able to see things that you didn’t.”

“go on, i’m intrigued.” it was now your turn to smirk.

“at first it was probably the constantly stealing mom’s kyoshi book, only to stare at the pictures of kyoshi warriors.” he joked.

“hey i still know a lot about kyoshi warriors!” you protested, half joking about the reason why you were addicted to the book.

“yeah but i literally walked into your room when you were about five only to see you open at the same page for a solid ten minutes. also, you couldn’t read!”

“i’m surprised mako caught any of it because it’s news to me. good news though!” bolin inserted himself back into the conversation, a cheery grin on his face.

“i think the longing stares between you and that waterbender from the red sands rabaroos could’ve also been an indication. and the constant cheering for them.” mako teased, resuming his dunking of plates in the water.

“yeah, umi and i didn’t last too long but it was fun while it lasted.” you reminisced over your first girlfriend, and followed your brothers lead to return to drying plates, leaving a dumbfounded brother to connect the dots.

“wait, you dated someone in an enemy team? y/n!” bolin gasped, accusing you in a joking manor.

“guilty as charged.” you smirked.

“okay well, let me set you up with someone! i’m sure i know another lesbian or bisexual!” bolin persisted with his idea so you thought that you might as well come out about korra and you.

“well bo, mako, i’m kinda seeing someone right now.” you started but were interrupted by someone barging in, the exact person you were about to mention.

“are you idiots done yet? we figured we’d all go see a probending match tonight but if you slowpokes aren’t done we might miss it!” korra informed the three of them. the two boys quickly returned to work but your gaze lingered on the avatar.

“so are you going to tell us or?” mako asked as korra left.

“i think you’ll figure it out.” your eyes stayed a little too long in the direction that your girlfriend left, a smirk on your lips at the idea of making your brothers wait.

when you all made your way to the probending arena, you caught up with korra and asami in the front, making sure to interlock your fingers with the watertribe girl.

“im guessing you told them?” asami asked, a knowing smile on her face at the romantic gesture.

“not exactly.” you guiltily admitted as you heard two gasps behind you. one was almost dramatically loud while the other was a bit more subtle.

“y/n!” you heard from the two boys behind you, and korra gave you a knowing smile, your idiot brothers had figured it out.

#korra x reader #krew x reader #korra #the legend of korra #korra x you #korra x y/n #atla x reader #lok x reader #mako x reader #bolin x reader #avatar x reader #avatar korra #avatar the last airbender x reader #avatar the legend of korra #atla korra #atla korra x reader #lok korra #lok korra x reader

[leossmoonn]

New Light

masterlist

pairing - kai parker x fem!human!reader

type - angst, fluff

note - so this is like sometime during season 6. im rewatching the series but i haven't got to season 6 yet (im rewatching it so when i write and include situations and plots from the show, i can be correct w the timeline lol.), so sorry if some of the info and timeline is incorrect. i did a little research to try and get the timeline right though. enjoy! oh! and also i made bonnie and enzo already get together since ik they get together in like season 8

summary - kai tries to make you fall for him

warnings - mild language, suggestive language, make out scene

————

*gif isn’t mine*

Kai watched you as you moved around the kitchen, making dinner for your friends and you. You were in the Salvatore Boarding House, the place you lived in after having your home destroyed by Klaus Mikaelson. The Salvatore brothers adopted you into their home. You had been friends with them for the past few years, so it wasn’t surprising you moved in. You already spent more than half your time here anyways. 

Tonight you were having a dinner party, planned by your friends and you to just relax and forget about every crazy thing that had and was happening in your life. Granted, something crazy was probably gonna happen, interrupting the relaxing night, but you held onto hope to have one normal night. Like how you used to before all the supernatural stuff.

One thing kept the hope from staying, though. It was Kai Parker. The insane witch who was ruining everything for you and your friends over the past few months. Stefan had decided to invite him over, make nice with him so you all would have him on your side. You sided with Stefan to not be in a fight with your best friend, but you deeply hated the thought of Kai sitting with you. Eating dinner, staring at you like a creepy stalker, probably plotting your death. Good thing was, though, Elena and Caroline were at the house, helping you. Everyone knew that if you were alone with Kai, you would probably kill him. Bonnie, sadly, was with Stefan and Damon, working out a plan to kill and/or get him back into the prison world. 

You were in the kitchen alone at the moment, Kai was sitting at the island table, staring at you. He had a smug look on his face, resting his chin on his palm and leaning on the counter. He never tore his eyes away from you. It made you want to gouge his eyes out. To try and ignore him, you put on music and focused on the dinner you were making. 

You sang the lyrics to ‘Since U Been Gone’ by Kelly Clarkson quietly. You moved your body to the beat, chopping up onions. 

“You have a beautiful singing voice,” Kai said. 

You rolled your eyes, huffing and ignoring him. 

“You know, I can sing, too. I used to love singing in the car with my family,” Kai said. 

“Before you slaughtered them?” You remarked. 

Kai frowned at you, pain shooting through his heart. You continued making steak, turning on the stove and letting it heat up. Elena and Caroline finally came back into the kitchen with ice cream and alcohol. You snatched the bourbon from Caroline’s hand, getting out a cup and pouring yourself a drink. 

“Can I have some?” Kai asked.

You nodded, not looking at him. You poured him a glass, walking over and setting it in front of him. His hand reached out to grab the glass, making contact with your hand. His fingers brushed against yours. You felt your skin tingle and goosebumps arose on your arm. Kai noticed and smirked. 

“Cold?” He asked. 

You glared at him and pulled back your arm immediately. “No.”

Kai chuckled, knowing you lied. He could sense you had feelings for him, even if you never would admit it. He just needed to make you see him differently so those feelings would surface. 

You went back to ignoring him, which only fueld his pining for you more. 

Elena and Caroline went over to you with the steaks.

“You know, Mr. Socio is in love with you,” Caroline said. 

“He's not in love with me. He just likes to chase people and get them comfortable, then hurt them. Since I’m the only one not with a boy who can protect me, with you having Stefan and Damon, Caroline having Tyler and Klaus at her beckoning call, and Bonnie having Enzo, he has chosen me to haunt and stalk,” you said.

Elena looked back at Kai, who was looking at you still. Elena turned her attention towards you, again. 

“I hate Kai as much as the next person, but he really looks like he has actual feelings for you. You should give him a chance.”

You scoffed, not believing what you were hearing. “Did you forget that he almost killed Bonnie and your beloved Damon to the prison world? He slaughtered his siblings and father without any remorse. Not to mention, he's an annoying prick.”

Elena laughed, “I used to think about that with Damon. But look at me now, I’m in love with him.”

“Yeah, but Damon isn’t a bad person, he just does bad things. Plus, I have seen the way he looks at you and treats you, he is every girl’s dream. Not to mention, he’s a pretty attractive guy. Kai isn’t like that. I mean, yeah, he’s hot, but he’s not the type of person I, or anyone, would want to date,” you explained and took a sip of bourbon.

Caroline smirked, “So, you are attracted to him.”

“No. You can say someone is attractive but not have any romantic feelings,” you shrugged.

In your mind, though, a little voice in your head told you that you did have feelings for him. You ignored the voice, not wanting to try and battle with your feelings. 

“Sure, Y/n. The more you deny it, the worse your feelings will get,” Elena teased. 

You rolled your eyes, flipping the steaks. Oil popped off the pan and hit your wrist. You squealed in pain, holding your wrist. 

Elena hurriedly got you a cold washcloth and pressed it on your wrist. 

“Thanks, El,” you smiled. “Mind taking care of the steaks? I have to keep a cold compress for a little.”

“Not at all. Care, can you get the sundae bar ready?” Elena asked, taking the tongs you used to turn the steak over. Caroline nodded, going over to the cabinets to get ice cream toppings out. 

You went over to the living room, slumping on the couch and grabbing the remote. You turned on ‘Gilmore Girls’. You kept the cold compress on your wrist. 

You felt the couch sink on your left. You didn't bother to look over, already knowing who it was. You two didn’t even sit in silence for 10 seconds before Kai started talking. 

“Rory and Jess should’ve stayed together. Dean’s too soft,” Kai commented while watching the tv. 

“Jess is bad for her. He's smart, but he still has no future. Dean really loves Rory and she threw that away,” you argued.

“True, but Jess loves her, too, just in a different way. Dean is so mellow. Jess is fun, exciting, dangerous. Kind of like Damon. That’s why Elena chose Damon instead of Stefan, right? Because he made her feel things that Stefan could never make her feel, which she liked better,” Kai stated. 

You glared at him. “She didn’t choose him just because of that.”

“No, she chose him because of that. You choose someone because the way they make you feel, that's how love works,” Kai said, turning his attention towards you. 

You felt his burning stare. You decided to turn to him, looking into his dark blue eyes. 

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you sighed. 

Kai smiled. His smile made you feel giddy and warm inside. You pushed those feelings away, piling more denial and hate in your mind towards him. 

“You have those feelings towards me, too,” Kai smirked. 

You peeled your eyes away from him, ignoring him once again. 

“Don’t deny it, Y/n. I can see it on your face. I can feel it,” Kai teased, scooting closer.

“Kai, stop,” you muttered. 

He got so close to you, you felt his breath on your cheek. Your heart rate picked up and you found it hot and hard to breathe. Heat went down south between your thighs and goosebumps formed on your neck. 

“You like me, Y/n. I can hear you breathing heavy and you heart beating fast. I can smell your arousal between your legs,” Kai said, putting his hand on yours.

You pulled your hand away. “I said cut the shit, Kai. You’re making me uncomfortable,” you lied. 

Kai’s eyes softened and he moved away immediately. “I’m sorry. I just-”

“You just what, Kai? Think you can use your witchy powers with me to make me fall in love with you? News flash, psycho, I’m not dumb,” you scoffed and stood up.

“I didn’t try to use my powers, I swear. But I can use my powers to heal your burn,” Kai suggested. 

“No, I don’t want your help,” you shook your head. 

“Get off your high horse and let me help you, Y/n. That burn will take a few days to heal and it'll hurt when you shower or brush something against it. Please, Y/n, I want to help you,” Kai pleaded. 

You looked at him. His eyes showed honesty. You sighed in defeat and sat back down on the couch. You moved close to him, your thighs touching. Kai took the cloth off of your burn and held your arm gently. The same, lovey-dovey feelings came back. This time, you didn't fight it as hard, letting yourself enjoy not having to keep up your walls.

“I’m so mean to you, why are you helping me?” You asked. 

“Because I like and care about you. I don’t like seeing the people I care about hurt,” he answered.

He put his free hand over your burn. The burn disappeared by skin forming over it. 

“Really? If you cared about me, you’d leave me alone,” you chuckled. 

“I can’t when I gotta get on your good side. With you and your friends plotting my death, I need an ally,” Kai said. 

Your distaste for him surfaced again. You pulled your hand away once the burn was healed. 

“That’s why I hate you. See, you don’t actually care about me. I knew it. Don’t sit or talk to me during dinner,” you spat and strutted over to the kitchen. 

Dinner was ready, thank the heavens. Damon, Stefan, and Bonnie came into the house on cue. 

“Bon!” You exclaimed, running over and hugging her. 

“Hey! Dinner smells good,” Bonnie smiled and hugged you back. You pulled away and laughed, “Elena and Caroline made it. I got burned.”

“You okay? I can heal you,” Bonnie said. 

“No, uh, Kai healed me already,” you said sheepishly. 

“You let that lunatic touch you?” Damon asked. 

“He was there and asked. He was being nice, but then he turned into a dick again,” you explained. 

“Well, at least you’re not still hurt. C’mon, let’s go and eat. I'm starving,” Stefan said. 

You all went to the kitchen, seeing the meal Elena and Caroline prepared set out on the table. 

“Hey, babe,” Damon smiled and went over to Elena. He put his arm around her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. 

You looked at them longingly. You wanted what they had. So in love, nothing else mattering in the world but each other. You sat down in between Stefan and Caroline. You cut a piece of steak for yourself and got some mashed potatoes and green beans. 

“This is so good, guys. Thanks for inviting me over,” Kai said with a mouthful of steak and mashed potatoes. 

“Our pleasure. Mind eating with a closed mouth?” Stefan remarked. 

You chuckled at Stefan’s comment while Kai frowned. 

“So, what were you three doing while us four were here?” Kai said, gesturing to Damon, Stefan, and Bonnie with his fork. 

“None of your business,” Bonnie said. 

“Aw, c’mon. We’re friends now,” Kai teased. 

“You’ll find out soon,” Damon smiled at him. 

Kai frowned again and ate his food in silence. 

“Do you guys want some blood to go with your wine?” Caroline asked. 

“Yes!” Damon smiled. Caroline got up to get a few blood bags. 

All of you except Kai made conversation. While you were talking and laughing, Kai looked at you. He knew his comment earlier got you two on the wrong foot again. He racked his brain with ways he could get on your good side, get you to agree with going on a date with him. He likes you, he really does, he just doesn’t know how to show those feelings without getting rude and angry. He was willing to try for you, though. After a few hours of talking with everyone, people started to excuse themselves to leave. 

“I’ll see you later, Bon and Care,” you smiled and hugged your two best friends.

“See you! Have fun with Kai, I think he plans on staying,” Caroline smiled.

“I actually am going to leave, too,” Kai butted into your conversation. 

Your heart sank slightly. Since calming down from being angry, your attitude towards him softened. In the back of your mind, you didn’t want him to leave. You wanted him to stay, to pester you, to talk to him, to sit down and have him make you feel the way you did on the couch. You wanted to sit down and enjoy his company. But on the surface, you couldn’t care less. 

“But, I want to talk to Y/n before I leave,” Kai said. 

Bonnie and Caroline looked between you two quizzically. They smiled and let you two be alone in the kitchen. 

You walked to the liquor cabinet, grabbing two glasses and vodka. Kai followed you and sat down in his seat at the island table. 

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You asked as you poured him a glass of vodka. You grabbed your glass and went to sit next to him. 

“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he said and looked into your eyes. He took the glass without tearing his eyes away from you. 

“You apologizing? Who has you possessed,” you laughed looked around jokingly. 

Kai smiled with you as you brought your attention back on him. 

“No, this is just me. I know what I said earlier about just wanting you as an ally was wrong. I mean, yes, I want you as an ally, I want all of you as an ally, but I still like you. A lot. And I care about you a lot, too,” Kai spoke. 

You took a sip of vodka, sighing. “I accept and appreciate your apology, Kai. But, I don’t like you, not like that anyways, I-”

Kai interrupted you by taking your hand in his. “Y/n, I know I pushed earlier and made you uncomfortable, and I apologize for that, too, but I know that's not true. The look in your eyes when you look at me when you let your guard down is not a look regular friends give each other.”

Your eyes focused on his hand on yours for a few minutes, and looked back up to his face. Butterflies filled your stomach again and his words tugged at your heart strings. Your walls started to come down and as hard as you fought to keep them up, you couldn’t. Kai was getting to you and deep down, you knew he was right. That you cared for him the same way he cared about you. 

But then you remembered that he was the enemy. He took your best friend away from you, wrecked havoc on this town, and killed his parent in cold blood. You couldn’t take the chance of getting hurt. So, you pulled your hand away slowly from his, standing up and downing the rest of your drink. 

“I admit, I may have some feelings for you. Deep down inside, but I can’t take the chance, Kai. I’m sorry. Thank you for apologizing and not ruining dinner. I’ll see you later,” you gave him an apology of your own. 

You started to walk away, but Kai put his hand on your arm. He spun you around and your lips met his. Your eyes widened as Kai kissed you. You tried to fight back from not kissing him, but as his arms wrapped gently around your waist, pulling you in, you melted against him and kissed him back. 

As your lips moved with his for the first few moments, you closed your eyes and  behind your eyelids, your brain exploded. You could see colors as your lips moved with his, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. His lips tasted like vodka and chocolate ice cream. You wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your fingers in his hair. His tongue swiped on the bottom of your lip and you opened your mouth. Your tongues met and you moaned softly in his mouth, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.

You pulled away, needing air. Kai opened his eyes, a big, content smile resting on his lips. 

“And friends don’t kiss friends like that. So please, give me a chance. Let me show you I’m different than what you think. Let me show you me in a new light. I can change for you. I want to change. Don’t deny what we have, Y/n.”

You stared into his eyes, knowing you couldn’t deny your feelings any longer. You gave him a small, sweet smile and nodded your head. “Okay, I’ll give you a chance. Prove me wrong, Parker.”

Kai took his hands off your waist, first pumping the air. “I will, I promise.”

————

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@123cxcv​ 

#kai parker imagine #kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker imagines #tvd #the vampires diaries #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #chris wood x reader #chris wood #kai parker imagine smut #kai parker smut

[rpd-rookie]

After all things he saw and been through, Leon could use some rest... So how about Leon x reader on vacation in some remote, distant place, phone turned off, Hannigan banned from contacting him over new assignments? I guess it would be perfect for post-Vendetta? I don't really care it it's going to be fluff, smut or whatever - I just want him to take his time off and simply enjoy his leave, wherever he'd go. ^_~

Author’s note: Sorry about the long wait. This OS actually became so long I decided to make it a 2 or 3 chapters long fanfic. Here’s the first prt. Hoping you’ll love it.

Warning: Angst, Mention of Alcoholism and Depression, Language, Mention of sex.

Information : Y/SN = your second name

Holidays - Leon S. Kennedy x Fem!Reader

A fresh marine breeze entered the room through the ajar French window, flapping the white muslin curtains like two small sails. It caressed his clammy naked body and a salty smell came to tickle his nose, reminding him a time when, as a kid, he used to go visit his grandparents in their small beach house in South Carolina, a time that was far gone but that he kept close to his heart.           And so he sprawled on the mattress, a bit like a funny starfish, his blue eyes still shut, trying to linger in his memory and in his bed a little longer, at least until Hunnigan calls him to warn him not to be late to another umpteenth appointment with his DSO colleagues or the president.           Only when he felt a delicate hand brush his hair away from his face, tucking it behind his ear like his mother used to do when he was a child, and finally met a pair of gorgeous (colour) eyes did he realise two things.   One, Hunnigan won’t call this morning. Two, holidays were awesome.

Part 1: THE MEETING

           Scott Rossi. That was the name he had given when he had registered in this remote cottage-like hotel three days ago on the north coasts of Nova Scotia. Nothing original and probably too easy to guess – it was his father’s first name and his mother last name after all. A fake identity he had judged necessary to disappear from the DSO’s radar for a little while.     He needed to be left alone. For his wellness and his sanity even though a part of him knew drinking his sorrow away wasn’t what was best for that so-called wellness he wanted back. But it was the only solution he had found to forget. Forget about New York. Forget about the car bombing in DC. Forget about that bullet he put in President Benford’s head. Forget about everything that had led him here, drinking in this bar. But the road to forgetting was hard and the escape too momentary. And the more whisky he poured in his glass to more he seemed to drown in his bottomless pit of pain and depression.           “Tough day or you’re just not confident in your masculinity?” Usually, Leon would have ignored such a nosy question, the same way he would have ignored another over-curious judgy person, with characteristic stoicism. But there was something in that question, something in that voice - though he couldn’t pinpoint what - that made him look up from the amber liquid in his glass. Perhaps was it the strangeness of that question. Or perhaps was it that voice, confident and full of nerve, reminding Leon of old times, old friends, bold young agents and femme fatales. Or perhaps, was it simply because she was a woman and God knew how much Leon couldn’t ignore one, wasted or not.     She was a (hair colour) with piercing (colour) eyes, wearing a long marine blue coat over a nice black dress. Elegant. Self-assured. Pretty. Very pretty … Actually too pretty to hang out in some lousy hotel bar like the one she was in right now. A city girl maybe. “Excuse me?”           “The whisky. My father used to say it’s a drink for fags.” Leon’s eyes widened briefly and she added, unsettled by his surprise as if she had expected it. “But then again, my father was an asshole who didn’t know shit about anything. So tough day, huh?” Leon snickered and remained surprisingly troubled for a few second. Needless to say, he wasn’t used being caught off guard like that. “More like tough life” He finally corrected. She nodded and, unable to resist curiosity – even though she had the impression the man was certainly not the kind to easily open up to strangers -  quickly went to sit closer to him bringing her tequila along with her. “I’m all ears.”   “I don’t need a therapy.” His tone was curt and harsh and he took a sip of whisky looking away from her, thinking she would get the message and leave him to finish his fancy bottle of Glenfiddich in peace. But she did not move and simply waited, her observing eyes set on him as if she was trying to read his mind or something.       He glanced towards her only to see her sigh and take off her coat like an insect would shed their skin, offering Leon the sight of her beautiful wasp-like body covered in black silk, a sight that didn’t leave him indifferent. After all, she had an exquisite silhouette. Curvy with a narrow waist that her skin-tight black dress could bring out with ease. “Let me guess, after fifteen years of marriage, your wife cheated on you with your best friend because you were the kind of man who lived for his job instead of his family and now he’s taking care of your kids in your own house and they call him daddy.”         “Couldn’t be moooore wrong.” He had a quick laugh, not because he thought her soap opera-like story was amusing but because he actually never imagined someone would picture him married with kids. Did he look the type? He didn’t think so. “Maybe. But at least now I know you’re not married.” Leon glanced at her again, astonished by her audacity. No one had ever flirted with him that way. Though he wasn’t even sure she was flirting. “Are you sweet-talking me or something?”         She shrugged her

shoulders leaving the place for any sort of answer and Leon said “You know, you could have just look at my hand.”     “I did actually but I just wanted to make sure.” She had a quick seductive smile and smoothly bent towards Leon who peeped at her décolletage for a second before focusing on his drink again. “By the way, is shooting a hobby or part of your job?” Leon froze, his glass half way between the counter and his lips and stared at her. “How …”             “The calluses on your fingertips. Only a shooter has that kind of hands.” He couldn’t help but be impressed and after drinking his whisky in one go, he naturally sat up straight on his stool to scrutinize her, suddenly more that interested in that mysterious girl. “You’re observant.”   “Y/N actually.” She extended her hand and, after a short hesitation, he shook it with an amused smile, undeniably seduced by that cheeky attitude that suited her so well. Her skin was so soft and cold against his, he instinctively kept her hand in his to warm it up. A lovely gesture yet certainly a bit inappropriate. Either way, the girl said nothing and let him hold her hand. “I’m L… Scott. I’m Scott” He finally replied as he let go of her hand, slightly uncomfortable. “ Fine, then I’m Y/SN.”     Leon frowned, his face showing a mix of confusion and amusement. “You just said your name was Y/N.”         “Yeah but that was before you chose to lie.” She grimaced, emptied her shot of tequila and called the waiter with a small hand gesture to ask for a refill, not even slightly disappointed in Leon for lying. “I didn’t lie.” Not really. She put down her hand as she realised the barman, who was flirting with a man at the end of the counter, would not notice her.     “Of course you did. But I’ll allow it. I guess that’s just another silly way to cope with your tough life for a night. Though, it seems it’s as useless as alcohol” She took Leon’s glass and emptied it without looking away from the agent.       “I’m trying to enjoy my holidays at the fullest.” He confessed and that was the truth. “Is it working?” She placed the glass, now stained with her lipstick, in front of him and he shrugged, showing her the bottle of alcohol by his side before pouring himself another drink. “No, not really.”             “Thought so.”            

She took the whisky again, this time from Leon’s hand but he did not protest. He didn’t care about that damn liquor. He could definitely afford another bottle. The company however … He knew he would never find another girl like the one sitting next to him. “So, Y/N. What are you doing here?” He asked, his eyes fixed upon her face. “Who’s Y/N?” She replied with a cheeky wink and Leon smiled and chuckled. It hadn’t done that in a while.  “Are we really gonna play this lie the whole night?” Part of him hoped so. There was something endearing and refreshing in that little game, the same way there was something terribly irresistible in that girl.       “You wanna spend the whole night with me? Who told you I was that kind of girl?” She harrumphed, hand over her heart like an amazingly lame actress, an overly dramatic gesture that was certainly intended.         “You’re impossible.” Leon confessed but there was no hint of criticism or annoyance, quite the opposite. He was actually having fun drinking here with that girl he didn’t know. “No. I’m just a girl pretending to be someone she’s not – aka Y/SN - talking to a man named Scott who just lost his wife and kids to his best friend.”           “Not just his wife and kids, his dog too. A beagle. Poppy.” She laughed, getting the tiny nod to John Wick and he looked glad that she did. “And what’s Y/SN’s backstory?”             “I found yours. You could at least found mine.” She retorted and let him think. And for a second, as she stared at him scratching his stubble, finding him insanely handsome, she realised he hadn’t touch his drink in a small while. Good.   “Y/SN is a college student with unresolved daddy issues trying to get the attention of a man possibly twice her age to cope with the fear of abandonment his father left her with when he left her and her mom.”         “Was Dad an alcoholic?” She declared on purpose, just to see if the word would trigger his desire to drink. It incredibly did not.   “Might explain why you’re so interested in a loser like me.”

She stayed the whole night with him. Talking. Playing. Flirting in ways only she could do. Creating an undeniable connection, a sharp sexual tension that only a man deprived of all senses would have missed. She gave him a signal (if not more) with her eyes, called him with her lips. And he responded with a similar technique, a similar enthusiasm. And at the end of the night, when she got up from her stool and kissed him goodbye, right at the corner of his lips, she realised she could potentially spend the hottest night of her life if she chose to lead him in her room. After all, it was no secret for either of them. She wanted to fuck him and he wanted to fuck her.           But a part of her decided to play hard to get, decided that this night would be a sweet game, a foreplay in their roleplay. And luckily for her, he was a player. Just like her.

#Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #fanfic #request #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader

[alarawriting]

52 Project #42: Lineage

The air outside Jiangpao International Airport was hot and humid. Karula had always found her home too cold except in midsummer, so it felt good to her, the hot air against her skin making her finally feel almost warm enough. Taxi drivers called out to her urgently, aggressively marketing their services.

“Lady! I can take you to Jiangpao, very cheaply! I have the best rates of anyone here!”

“Younger sister, I’ve got a luxury car! I can take you to Jiangpao in the greatest comfort! You want to hire me!”

“My car’s the fastest, lady!”

One of the taxi drivers – a young man, maybe her own age, maybe even younger – with a mop of unruly black hair, slightly overlong for Senchai men’s fashion, came over to her and gestured at her large, heavy suitcase. “Elder sister, can I take your bag? All these drivers yelling at you probably don’t realize you want some peace and quiet after your long flight.”

Karula smiled. “I’m not going to Jiangpao, though. I’m headed to Nandijao.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I can take you there, sure,” he said. “My rates are very good.”

“Well, you’re the only one who decided not to yell at me from your car, so sure. Take my bag.”

“Your Senchai’sho is very good,” he said as he loaded the suitcase in the trunk of his taxi. “I can barely tell you have an accent. Where are you from?”

“Foirais,” Karula said, “but both my mother and father came from here.”

“Ah. I think everyone seeing a woman who looks Senchai’in, dressed in Southern clothing and too young to be a business executive, probably assumed you were from the South; that’s why they were yelling. But most of them probably thought you were one of the Given-Away Girls, not your mother.”

“Is that what you’re calling them over here?” She dug the disused seat belt out of the crevice of the taxi’s seat. “Given-Away Girls?”

“Well, they were given away,” the taxi driver said apologetically. “It’s not a slur or anything like that.”

He pulled out of the taxi roundabout and gently followed the flow of traffic toward the highway. “So what brings you to Senchai?”

“I’m researching my past, and I’m an anthropology student doing graduate work on Senchai’a folklore,” she said. “So I’ll be going to the Great Library.”

“Oh!” The taxi driver glanced back at her, sounding genuinely impressed. “You got your approval papers? They don’t usually let foreigners into the Great Library.”

“Of course.” She’d hardly have flown all the way from Foirais if she didn’t have all her permits in order to do what she’d come to do. “My cousin is a physics professor at Nandijao University, so she pulled some strings.”

“But you said you were researching your past?”

“My mother’s heritage,” Karula said. “My father—” was a philosophy student at the University who became a dissident, and had to flee to Foirais to stay out of prison—“grew up in Nandijao. But my mother was, as you say, a Given-Away Girl, so we don’t have any idea who her relatives are. All we know is what town she was born in.”

“Well, if it’s a small town and you know her birthdate, the records at the Great Library might help you narrow it down, but I don’t envy you. It’s got to be like looking for a single worm in an entire barrel of rice.”

It would be. The Given-Away Girls – she’d never heard the term before, but it seemed so perfect, she wondered why not – had birth certificates that showed their actual town of birth and birth date, but their parents’ names had been replaced by their adoptive parents. Girls had traditionally been seen as a burden in Senchai – parents had to raise a dowry for them, and then the girls ended up caring for their in-laws once they were elderly, not their own parents. When demographics in the wealthy nations of the South, like Foirais, had shifted so that there were far fewer children available for adoption, parents in Senchai had learned that if they gave away their daughters at birth, they would receive large sums of money.

Fueled by the promise of riches and the desire to send their daughters to a place where girls were valuable enough that adoptive parents would pay large sums to have a daughter, a place where their girls might grow up to be wealthy and secure, many, many parents gave up their daughters for adoption… to the point where the female population dropped low enough that the government of Senchai outlawed dowry, and made such adoptions require permits that were rarely given. But by the time the government took action, over a hundred thousand daughters of Senchai had been adopted out to other nations, the history of the families they came from lost to them forever.

With a father who had family back in Senchai, Karula Lefaire – her mother’s name, which was traditional in Foirais for women – had more resources to research the issue than most of the Given-Away Girls or their children did. And she also had more reason to.

“It’ll be difficult, but I’ll enjoy the challenge,” Karula said. “And it gives me a good excuse to do research for my thesis.”

***

From Jiangpao International Airport, it was an hour and a half to her cousin Ren Seiri’s house. Small talk with the taxi driver passed some of the time, but Karula was very relieved when she arrived. She was by nature too solitary to truly enjoy being locked in a small metal box with another person for an hour unless they were a good friend.

Ren Seiri greeted her at the door. “Younger cousin!  Come in, come in! I’ll have my son take your bag—”

“Don’t trouble him, I can carry it. I’m stronger than I look.”

“Nonsense, you’re a guest and you’re family from a long way away. Jai! Come help our cousin with her bag!”

Jai, who more or less bounced into the room, turned out to be around 14, taller than Karula but skinnier, and she was herself a thin woman. “Elder cousin, no, don’t burden your son! I can carry it!”

“No, no, elder cousin!” Jai said. “I’ve been lifting weights! Look!” He grunted as he lifted the suitcase over his head. It had wheels, but plainly he didn’t want to use them on the lacquered bamboo floor.

“Oh, well, that is impressive,” Karula said.

“Let me show you to your room, and then you must come have some tea. Perhaps some sweet bean buns. Or some real food. I have barbeque pork rolls and cold eel dumplings.” Seiri’s doctorate and professorship apparently didn’t stop her from behaving exactly like any stereotypical Senchai’in mother.

Ren Seiri was the daughter of Karula’s father’s significantly older brother. She was not quite twice Karula’s age, but she was plainly getting there. She was wearing a dress of Southern styling, but beautiful silk dyed in a very Senchai’a pattern, and elegant soft house slippers. Karula replaced her own shoes with house slippers before following Seiri and her son.

She finally got some time to herself by insisting she needed a shower and a change of clothes. It was an excuse, but a good one. Most people would, in fact, need a shower and change of clothes after so much time in the Senchai’a heat. Karula, unlike most people, hadn’t sweated into her clothes at all, and she found the air conditioning oppressive enough that she turned it off in her bedroom and then opened all the windows, letting the heat in. She ran her shower as hot as she could stand it, and pinned her long hair up while it was still fairly wet because the wet hair was chilly on her neck. The traditional Senchai’a gown and robe she dressed in were silk, but heavy enough to keep the heat in… not generally something a Senchai’in, or in fact anybody, would wear in high summer, but it would keep the bugs off, and it looked lighter and cooler than it was.

After her shower, her cousin insisted on feeding her tea, hot pork buns, cold eel dumplings, and pastries full of warm bean custard, plainly purchased fresh at a bakery less than an hour ago. Seiri had probably ordered them while Karula was in the shower. Karula didn’t eat the dumplings. Seiri said that it made sense that a woman raised in Foirais wouldn’t have a taste for eel, and Karula didn’t correct her.

Then Seiri bustled around the kitchen, making dinner, continuing to bring Karula cups of tea and prattle on about family members Karula had obviously never met, telling stories about Karula’s father’s childhood that she’d heard from her own grandparents. Karula appreciated the hospitality but this was driving her insane. This was much too much social interaction, but she couldn’t politely extricate herself from it.  She eventually managed to turn the conversation to teaching Jai some Foiraisse and telling him about the city she grew up in.

Dinner was Seiri, Jai, Seiri’s husband Shaon, Seiri’s sister Leirin, and Leirin’s boyfriend, who was apparently only allowed to see Leirin when Leirin was at Seiri’s house because their parents disapproved of him and it would be absolutely scandalous for her to be alone with her boyfriend without being chaperoned by family.  Seiri assured Karula that she would be meeting her grandparents tomorrow, but they had to travel from Jiangpao. She said this in a slightly derisive tone, not the mockery of a person looking down on a lower status person, but the mockery of a person who believes someone of the same status is putting on airs. So apparently living in Jiangpao was considered higher status, at least for well-to-do people, than living in a college town, and Seiri disapproved of this. Then they all spent the entire meal continuing to tell Karula all about the lives of people she’d never met.

Afterward Seiri showed Karula the photo album. She was very interested in the pictures her father had sent back to his family of himself, his wife and daughter; Karula had almost no pictures of her mother as an adult, as everything her parents had owned when her mother had been alive had burned in the fire.  It was astonishing how much her mother had looked like her.  They could be twins, if they hadn’t been a generation apart.  But then Seiri insisted on showing her all the other pictures, of the cousins, and the cousins’ cousins, and the great-grandparents, and everyone’s in-laws, and by the time she was done with just one photo album Karula’s eyes were glazed over and she had to plead exhaustion in order to escape to her room.

Karula’s long-lost family were so friendly, so welcoming. Such nice people.

She was so looking forward to spending tomorrow in the Great Library’s archive, not talking to anyone at all.

***

Senchai was famous – or perhaps infamous – for its bureaucracy and record-keeping. The country had started keeping detailed records of its citizens on papyrus, nearly three thousand years ago, when the country had only been the city of Jiangpao and the immediate province around it. Twenty-four hundred years ago, the empire had expanded to the point where local provinces were storing all of their own records. Emperor Nan had decreed that every record should have two copies made, and the second copy should be stored in an archive in the newly founded city of Nandijao, “Nan’s Treasure”.

Since then, through dynasties, foreign occupations, and revolutions, through the expansion and contraction of Senchai as wars moved the borders this way and that, every citizen of Senchai had had all of their important records – birth, marriage, any certificates they’d earned for the right to practice certain professions like medicine or accounting, and death – stored as copies in the Archives. The Great Library of Nandijao had grown up around the Archives, and the University of Nandijao, Senchai’s greatest and most nationally renowned university, had been founded there for proximity to the Great Library.

A famous story was told of conquerors who’d come in and tried to burn the Archives, who had been driven back by librarians, professors, and students from the University, wielding nothing but sticks and their own belts with rocks or heavy bars of soap tied to the end.  This story was held in some skepticism by many scholars, since the only records of the incident were held in the Archives, and the librarians were no more immune than anyone else to self-aggrandizing stories. On the other hand, it was also true that, had it happened, it wasn’t likely that records about it would have gone anywhere but the Archives. It was, after all, where copies of all records in the nation ended up; it sent records nowhere itself.  

There was currently a major project underway to digitize the Archives. The digitization had gotten back only two hundred fifty years so far, but that was probably far enough for Karula’s needs. Probably. So she didn’t spend any time sifting through papers centuries old; she spent the day scrolling through digitized documents.  It was still as quiet and undisturbed as she’d hoped. If only she could do this outside where it was warm, rather than in the air conditioning, it would be ideal.

It was lengthy work. There was a difference between a record of birth and a birth certificate. The record of birth stated that a certain mother had given live birth within a certain week, and the gender of the baby, but the father’s name and the child’s name were not recorded.  It was done for the census, not to track the lives of citizens. The birth certificates were amended on adoption, and if the original certificate still existed in the Archives anywhere, it was probably in a file cabinet for inactive documents, older documents that had revised versions.  So there was no record of Karula’s mother, specifically, but there were records of all the women who had given birth in the city of Chofu, in that week. Unfortunately, Chofu, while nowhere near the size of Jiangpao or even Nandijao, was still large enough to support thirty-one births of girls in the week of Karula’s mother’s birthday. And Chofu, being a port town, had been a major destination for pregnant women who planned to sell any daughter they might have to pale-skinned Southerners. Ten of the women who were recorded as giving birth that week did not appear on any birth certificates, and ten of the birth certificates were girls with Southerner names for parents.

This meant Karula had to trace back the family histories and origin provinces of ten women, any of whom might have been her grandmother. And then track back their families, though thankfully that went back to before the era of Given-Away Girls. And then compare to records of birth to make sure no daughters were adopted out to other families, because the fact that they’d have names in Senchai’sho would make it non-obvious that an adoption had happened. And then cross correlate that to whatever news had made it on paper to the Archives… because news was not a governmental record and there was no guarantee a newspaper would have been sent to the Archives in the first place.

She’d spend the first half of her days doing her genealogical research in the Archives, and the other half in the Library proper, reading folklore accounts, particularly the stories told in various regions. During the Revolution at the beginning of the century, the new leadership of Senchai had decided that folklore was ancient superstition that needed to be discarded as Senchai entered the New Century, but fortunately that had only lasted until the original dictator had died. The new government had decided instead that folklore was part of the rich cultural history of Senchai and should definitely be preserved, and they’d even sent people around to record the stories the locals would tell, and then take them back to the Library. It had been a spasm of nationalism that had resulted in Senchai joining in on the wrong side of a terrible war, but the effect, the attempt to preserve Senchai’s ancient culture, had continued onward even after the war.

After her work, she’d go walking in Nandijao. Senchai was the first place she’d ever been where everyone looked like her. In Foirais, where most of the citizens were pale people with round eyes and a wild variety of hair colors, Karula had had very few people she could look to who were similar to her.  Here in Senchai, her accent made her an outsider, but she at least looked like the folks here.  Mostly. There was the fact that they all had black or brown eyes, and hers were only brown at a distance; when she looked closely in a mirror, they appeared a tawny amber.  But since she hadn’t run around looking deep into most people’s eyes here in Senchai, she assumed it was a normal variation.

It was a little bit sad that no matter where she went, she was an outsider. In Foirais, her eyes and skin marked her as “not Foiraise” to many of her fellow citizens even though she’d grown up there. In Senchai, she looked like the people, but the moment she opened her mouth, she revealed herself as foreign. So she tried to get by in talking as little as possible. It felt better, somehow, to be thought of a mute or selectively non-verbal Senchai’in than a foreigner. She explored the city, bought food, newspapers, occasionally tiny memorabilia – nothing large enough that it wouldn’t fit in her suitcase.

And then she’d go to her aunt’s house and spend the evening having to listen to her cousin and her husband talk, endlessly.  At one point she’d gotten her cousin onto the topic of physics, in desperation. Cousin Seiri had been happy to talk about her own research, but then had drifted into the topic of her own doctorate, and then her college days, and then she’d monopolized the conversation talking about her youth for an hour. Finally, Karula had taken to cultivating a relationship with Jai, in self defense. He let her get a word in edgewise sometimes, and Cousin Seiri wouldn’t interrupt Karula and tell her about people she had never met and never would.

He was a good kid. Karula had always had a soft spot for kids. He liked playing football – the challenge of never using your hands, the excitement of making your body into the thing to hit the ball with rather than a stick or the parts of your body designed to hit things with – and he enjoyed making and flying kites. His father, also a physics professor, had taught him about aerodynamics when he was young, and they used to make kites together.  He was also willing to talk for long periods of time about his favorite comic books, and science fiction, and he thought her researches into folklore were cool. Especially the part about creatures who appeared in many, many different countries’ legends. Dragons, phoenixes, the qilin and its resemblance to Southern unicorns, the different types of undead around the world.

She tried to pull her own weight by helping around the house – sweeping, washing dishes, cleaning the kitchen counter. At first Seiri insisted that she shouldn’t do any such thing, because she was a guest, but Karula had responded by pointing out that she was family, and she wanted to feel like family. After that, Seiri let her do chores… as long as they didn’t involve going near the burner on the stove.

The first time she’d done that, and the only, had been when she’d tried to put on hot water for tea. At home in Foirais, she’d had an electric stove, and in her dorm at university, there had been no stove at all – you used the cafeteria, or you heated food in a microwave.  Cousin Seiri’s stove had a gas range. Karula had turned on the burner… and then stared, mesmerized, at the flames, the tea kettle still in her hand. Slowly she’d reached toward the flame with her free hand.

Seiri had seen her do it and pulled her away as she was about to touch the beautiful flame. “Oh, no, no! You can’t be doing things with fire!” She’d put the kettle on the burner herself and then pulled Karula away from the stove entirely by both hands, walking backwards, pulling Karula toward the family dining table.  “I’m so sorry. After what happened to your mother…! I didn’t even think! Of course you shouldn’t have to do anything with fire!”

That night Karula dreamed. In real life, Father had held her, both of them screaming, begging for Mother to stop, as Mother had run back into their burning house, and Karula had struggled in Father’s arms to follow her, to pull her back. In the dream, Father wasn’t even there, and Karula ran through the burning hallways, opening doors into rooms her house had not actually had, looking for Mother. And then she’d found her, wreathed in fire, her eyes golden and glowing… and Karula had walked toward the fire, intent on immolating herself as well.

She didn’t normally remember her dreams, but she woke the moment she touched the flame, shaken, tears on her face.

***

After twenty-three days of running into the dead end of “there are no records of this at the Archives”, Karula decided to go to Chofu for herself.

“You make sure to get a good hotel,” Cousin Seiri insisted. “If I were you I’d get a Southern-style hotel. I know there’s a Hillain and a Morenta in Chofu, and they get good reviews.”

“I can stay in a Southern-style hotel anywhere near home,” Karula said. “I’m looking for something Senchai’a, but nice. Do you know any?”

“Oh, of course! But the truth is, Chofu’s just a small town in comparison to Nandijao, so I don’t know how many options you’ll have.”

The truth was, Cousin Seiri had never been to Chofu and needed time to contact her network of friends and family to find out what was good there. Karula trusted Cousin Seiri’s network better than she trusted official reviews, so she waited, and eventually booked a room in a Chofu inn called the Soaring Fish.  It was a traditional inn, so a dinner buffet was served nightly, large platters of fried rice and stir-fried meats in various sauces, and the guests were expected to take whatever portions they wanted.  Karula, arriving on a late train, was grateful. It was the first time she had stayed at a traditional Senchai’a inn; she’d stayed in many Southern-style hotels with restaurants attached, and in many of them the hotel served breakfast, but she’d never before been somewhere that the hotel itself served dinner.  She was always happy to warm up with a hot meal.

The next day she went to Chofu’s Children’s Peace and Health Center… a euphemism for the place where parents could abandon children, no questions asked.  Since the revolution Senchai had been torn between the modern ways they wanted to adopt and the traditional mores most of the country held. In past times, the traditions demanded total obedience from children to their parents, but nowadays children had rights, and parents had obligations to them.  It was also a tradition for parents in dire poverty to sell their daughters as servants, but nowadays that meant the sex trade, so it was extremely illegal. The society’s safety valve was the Children’s Peace and Health Center, where runaways would be sheltered, and children even as old as adolescents could be dropped off by parents.

Orphans were sent there as well. Some of those were adopted out quickly; the Children’s Peace and Health Centers mediated almost all the adoptions in Senchai. Those who weren’t ended up in orphanages, but the Peace and Health Center that had brought them in would continue to look for adoptive or foster parents for them.

Karula had visited the center in Nandijao; it was elaborately hidden. A shrubbery maze, a basement level of tunnels, and a network of walkways above formed a labyrinth with many, many exits – at a park for children, at an office building for doctors, at a shopping center… and the Children’s Peace and Health Center. This ensured that it was almost impossible to tell whether a given person with a child was taking the child to the Center, or to a doctor’s appointment, or a play date.

Chofu wasn’t nearly so wealthy a city, nor nearly as invested in appearances. The Children’s Peace and Health Center was simply there, on a street near one of the bus stops. It was a Southern-style rectangular blocky building, built back when Senchai perceived the South as more medically advanced and progressive. Thus it was out of place, and very ugly. On her way to the front door, Karula passed a strange version of a revolving door. It was only half a person’s height, and instead of being a glass door, it was a crib and an opaque partition. Experimentally, Karula pushed the empty crib slightly, noting where it would enter the building.

It was at this Center that her mother had been presented to her future parents, had been adopted and taken away from her homeland. Had her biological grandmother laid her mother down in that crib and spun it to push her baby into the Center, to be taken by employees, never to be seen by Karula’s grandmother anymore?

Inside, it looked just like a Southern-style medical office, with a receptionist behind a clear partition. “Hello!” the receptionist said. “Can I help you?”

“I’m here to research my mother’s history.”

“Oh, well, you must understand that we keep very little information on birth parents.”

“That’s all right,” Karula said. “I’ll take what I can get. How would I look her up?”

“Do you have the names of your open-hearted grandparents?”

Karula blinked. “Open-hearted?”

“Oh, we don’t like to use the term ‘adoptive parent’ here. It sounds like they’re lesser than birth parents somehow. Anyone who’d take a child into their heart and adopt them is open-hearted and generous, so we call them ‘open-hearted parents’.”

Ah. A euphemism. “I do. My mother’s mother was Charlée Lefaire, and her husband was Gantoise Lefaire.”

“And your name is?”

“Karula Lefaire.”

The receptionist’s eyebrow went up. “Your mother didn’t marry?”

“In Foirais, children take the mother’s family name, not the father’s.”

“Oh! Of course! Pardon me for prying, I’ve never met anyone from Foirais before.  Most of the Given-Away Girls or their families come from Anacrisia or Southland.”

“Well, I’ve never been to Senchai before, so now we’re matched.” Karula smiled at her. “Do you have any record of either of my open-hearted grandparents?”

The receptionist typed, her long lacquered nails clacking against her keyboard. “Yes. Charlée Lefaire, and there’s Gantoise Lefaire.  Oh, interesting.”

“What’s interesting?”

“Your mother would have been Jirène Lefaire?”

“Yes.  Do you have any record of her birth name?”

“No, we don’t keep that. But she was adopted at 16 months, not infancy.  And this says she entered the center only two weeks before her adoption. So she wasn’t an infant surrender.” More clacking. “I might be able to get some more detail.  Prospective parents like to know if there was any family history of violence or drug abuse or anything like that which they might need to know about their new child.”

Karula suspected that children with problems like that in their past were probably the last to be adopted. Or second last, after disabled children. “So what kind of information would be kept?”

“It’ll tell me if she was a legal surrender – meaning, she was taken away from incompetent birth parents for legal reasons – or… oh. Oh, that’s different. I don’t see that often.”

“What are you seeing?”

“She was surrendered by the fire department.  That only happens if the child is rescued from a fire and the parents are dead or can’t be found, usually. Fire department personnel do general rescues, so it could have been a flood or an earthquake…”

“No,” Karula said. “Fire does sound likely.”

“Did she have burn scars?”

“Nothing like that, but she had a… strange relationship with fire.”  She didn’t want to talk about that. “The birth date on her birth certificate is 13 Sanwa. Is that the birth date you have also?”

“Yes. That’s correct.”

“But you don’t have her birth name?”

“No. As I said, we don’t keep that.”

What she’d said was that information wasn’t kept on the birth parents, but Karula said nothing. “Do you have her adoption date?”

“22 Ren.”

“That gives me a lot to go on. Thanks.”

***

The Archives back in Nandijao didn’t have perfect records of newspapers… but the Library itself kept copies of newspapers going back sixty years, all the way back to the Revolution. Karula’s mother would have been 45 now, and Chofu was a large enough city that newspapers would probably be kept from it.

On 4 Ren that year, a house fire claimed the lives of Bai Ji-Wen, 25 years old, and her husband, Bai Sanli, 30.  They were survived by their infant child, who wasn’t named, but Karula could guess. Named after her mother, perhaps, Ji-Wen, or maybe Ji-Len. “Songbird”, and if it had changed to Ji-Len, “Little Bird.” Ji-Wen or Ji-Len becoming the Foiraise name Jirène made perfect sense.

Bai Sanli, born 30 years earlier, had married Tenra Ji-Wen when he was 26, whereupon she’d taken his family name. Tenra Ji-Wen, who’d have been 21 at the time, had been born in a fishing town thirty kilometers up the coast from Chofu, called Bangji. That was Karula’s next destination.

“Where are you going to stay?”  Cousin Seiri was, in Karula’s opinion, overly worried about this. “That’s so far away! You’ll be out in the middle of nowhere!”

“It’s all right,” Karula reassured her. “I’m good at finding my own way.”

“But you’ll be a young woman all alone! Don’t you know what can happen to young women in the forest when nobody’s around?”

“I’ll be fine, Elder Cousin,” Karula said. “I’ll call and let you know how I’m doing.”

“But will they even have service out there?”

Karula raised an eyebrow. “Elder Cousin… the entire country was wired for land lines a generation ago. If I have no cell signal, I’ll just call from one of those.”

In addition to landlines and electricity, the government a generation ago had made certain there were train lines all over Senchai, so Karula didn’t have too much difficulty getting to Bangji.  Once she got there, there was exactly one taxi at the train station, and the very bored taxi driver seemed very surprised to see her. “Oh! You’re a visitor!”

“I guess you don’t get many in Bangji?”

“I come out here every day and wait at the train station,” the old man said. “I’m supposed to be retired, but who can live off the government stipend? So I drive my taxi. But only two or three times a week am I needed, and usually it’s university students coming home to visit. Who are you here to see?”

“I’m a researcher from Foirais,” Karula said. “I’m here to collect stories from people. Is there anywhere I can stay?”

“Well, the Wangs run a bed and breakfast, but I don’t know if their room is available. I haven’t picked anyone up at the train station, though, so… probably.”

***

Mrs. Wang was also elderly, a small woman whose white hair was collected in a traditional Senchai’a bun. Karula had wondered how Bangji could support even one bed and breakfast, if they had so few visitors. Presumably the Wangs were also on retirement stipend. Strictly speaking, retirees on the stipend weren’t supposed to work; in theory, the government could reduce their stipend by the amount they made from side jobs. In practice, the government might possibly care about people in a retirement community, or in some areas of big cities where a lot of government ministers lived, but no one was ever going to come to Bangji and find out that old people had side businesses.

“Mr. Jo tells me you’re looking for a place to stay?” Mrs. Wang had come out to speak to the taxi driver, and then went around to the passenger side to talk to Karula. “I do have a room if you’d like!”

“That would be wonderful,” Karula said.

The room turned out to be small but very clean, decorated with rustic wooden sculptures of sea dragons, turtles whose shells glittered with stars, and giant fish-birds. This was perfect. It was legends of creatures like that that had brought Karula to Senchai, and out here to Bangji.  A mandala made of sea shells decorated the wall above the bed, which was a mattress on the floor, covered in sheets in the traditional dark blues and purples of the squid ink the locals harvested and sold for textile pigment.  A feather-filled silk comforter in a paler blue color was folded at the foot of the bed. The walls were thin bamboo, but solid enough for her purposes. There was one long, low piece of furniture with drawers running alongside one wall.

“This is beautiful. I would be pleased to rent from you.”

Mrs. Wang nodded. “We make our own breakfast at 6 am, but if you come down to the kitchen before 9 am, I’ll make you something. Typically our breakfast is rice porridge with smoked fish and fried dough twists, but if there’s something specific you want, I could make you anything. I used to be a cook at a local restaurant, before I retired.”

“Whatever you’re making for yourself is fine, as long as it’s hot. I can come down early.” Karula usually woke at sunrise, or just before it, the imminent appearance of the sun filling her with restless energy.

“Early is best,” Mrs. Wang agreed. “Our daughter sleeps late, and it’s best not to be at breakfast at the same time she is. So much energy!” She smiled.

“I don’t mind children, or their energy, but if you prefer that I avoid your daughter—”

“No, no! If she approaches you, feel free to be Elder Sister or Auntie, as you please.  There aren’t a lot of children in Bangji… not anymore, anyway.”

“Because most of the town has become venerable, I imagine?”

“That, yes, but… well, there have been some tragedies. Several children have disappeared.  The police weren’t able to find any common factor, and every home here’s been searched thoroughly, and there are no strangers in Bangji most of the time.  So we think perhaps they were taken by wild animals, but no one’s found animal spoor, either.”

“That’s terrible!”

“We try to watch over Lai-Mei all the time, but she’s so young and energetic, and she behaves as if there’s no danger at all. We try to tell her, but she doesn’t always listen.”

“Well, if I run into her, I will surely try to caution her. Perhaps I can use my youth and energy to counter hers, and keep her safe.”

***

Mr. Wang was equally friendly and equally garrulous, talking to Karula about his garden, which was indeed beautiful.

“In my younger days I traveled all over Senchai,” he said. “I gathered up plants from all sorts of places. Back then we didn’t really think about things like invasive species.” He smiled wryly.  “Nowadays I try to grow local plants only, but some of these are just too beautiful to do without even if they came from halfway across the country.  Like these.” He showed her flowers with purple and pink bells. Another had clusters of tiny orange and red flowers making patterns that looked like larger flowers.

“You’ve lived here a long time,” Karula said. “I’m trying to track down my mother’s family.  Do you remember anything about a family named Tenra?”

“Tenra? Can’t say I do. Mrs. Wang might know, though. As I said, I traveled, but she’s lived here her whole life.”

***

Karula spent the day gathering stories from people about legends in the area.  People in Bangji were full of such stories, and they all claimed that this had really happened, to a friend of a friend. Stories of dragons who almost managed to barbeque the friend of a friend. Stories of the great bird-fish surfacing less than an hour’s sail away from the shore. Qilin in the forest at the base of the mountain to the west of Bangji. Malevolent demons. Witches who had certainly cast baleful spells and hexes on innocent people, oh, around 30 years ago.

She asked several people about the Tenra family. No one remembered them. This seemed strange to Karula; Tenra Ji-Wen had married at the age of 21, 50 years ago. Had she had no family by then? Had her family been transplants from somewhere else? Had they moved on? Surely one of the elderly residents of Bangji would remember. But none did.

When she returned to the Wangs’ bed and breakfast, she almost tripped over a little girl, perhaps 9 or so.  “Well, hello.”

The girl looked her up and down, an almost insolent expression on her face.  “Where did you come from?”

“Foirais, but my mother was born in Chofu, and her mother was born in Bangji, according to the records.  Are you Wang Lai-Mei?”

“That isn’t a real person,” the girl said. “I’m Lun Lai-Mei.”

A child old enough to keep her original family name when she was adopted was probably one of the Thrown-Away Girls, a darker and sadder term for the abandoned girls who were surrendered to the Children’s Center as toddlers or older.  “Ah. Well, Lun Lai-Mei, I’m Karula Lefaire.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Lai-Mei said. “I’ll just call you Elder Sister anyway.”

“Yes, but it’s polite to share my name with you, since you shared yours. I’m staying with your parents while I research my family.”

“I figured that. You definitely aren’t from Senchai, so why would you be here unless you’re a guest?”

“My accent makes it that obvious?”

“I could just look at your face, Elder Sister. You don’t look Senchai’in.”

Karula blinked.  Both her parents were Senchai’in born in Senchai; how could she look anything else? “Why not?”

Lai-Mei smiled. “You’re too tall.”

Karula was a little on the tall side for a Senchai’in woman, but not to the point where she stood out. “I’ve met many Senchai’in women who are taller than me.”

“Well, it’s something,” Lai-Mei said. “I don’t know what.”

Lai-Mei herself didn’t quite look fully Senchai’in. She was beautiful, tiny for her apparent age, long straight hair pinned up with hairpins in the back that had seashells on them. In all respects but one she was the perfect picture of a Senchai’in girl… but her eyes were bright, vivid green. Perhaps her mother had had an affair with a foreigner, and that was why she’d been given away. Or perhaps it was a natural variation. Karula hadn’t met any Senchai’in with eye colors other than black or brown, aside from herself… and her own eye color was subtle enough that neither Cousin Seiri, nor Jai, nor anyone else who’d seen her up close in good lighting had remarked on it. But there were a billion people in Senchai, and many distinct ethnic groups, so perhaps green eyes was a rare but known phenomenon. Like red-haired people in Foirais.

“Lai-Mei!” Mrs. Wang called from the door. “Don’t bother the honored guest!”

“She’s not bothering me!” Karula called back. To Lai-Mei she said, “I might see you tomorrow if I’m not too tired when I come home.”

“This isn’t home for you, though, Elder Sister,” Lai-Mei said.

“This is my current base of operations, and that’s good enough.”

By Senchai’a standards, the child was extremely rude, but Karula found it a refreshing change, actually. All the children she’d met so far had had mostly perfect manners – Seiri might think Jai’s desire to monopolize a conversation talking about his interests was a flaw, but Karula, here to learn from Senchai’in people, didn’t see it that way. Lai-Mei was blunt. By Foiraise standards, she was actually fairly normal. Children were children all around the world, after all.

***

Elderly Mrs. Jin, 98 years old, was mentioned in a discussion in town of who might remember the Tenra family.  So Karula went to her house.  It was in better repair than she expected for a 98-year-old woman, and Karula could see why; two shirtless young men were working on the property, one clipping the hedges and one repairing a shutter.

“Is Mrs. Jin home?” she asked one of them.

The young man laughed. “Grandmother never goes anywhere anymore. What you want to ask is, is Mrs. Jin awake, and the answer is, probably not but she loves visitors, so go in and wake her up if you like.”

Inside, a middle-aged woman was pureeing rice and some sort of vegetable in a blender. “Hello! Are you here to see Grandmother?”

The term was a generic one of respect for the elderly, but Karula thought perhaps this woman was really Mrs. Jin’s granddaughter. “I’m doing some research to track down my mother’s family,” she said, “and Mrs. Jin was referred to me as someone who might remember my grandmother here as a child.”

“Oh, she loves it when people want to ask her about the past! Let me go see if she wants to wake up to see you.”

She ducked behind a sliding bamboo partition, and was gone for a couple of minutes. When she returned she said, “Come this way. Grandmother would be happy to talk with you!”

The old woman was reclining on a couch that was absolutely drowning in pillows. “This is the guest, Grandmother!” the woman yelled.  “She’s staying at the Wangs’ bed and breakfast!”

“Glad to see they’ve got some custom,” Mrs. Jin said in a surprisingly strong voice for such an old woman. She was very small, with gray hair cropped in a modern short haircut, and Karula would have guessed her to be in her 70’s or 80’s. Then again, Karula had hardly met enough nonagenarians to have any idea how to tell a 90-something from a younger but still elderly person. “Come close, girl, and sit down on these floor pillows. Neither my eyesight nor my hearing’s the best anymore.”

“We keep trying to get her to go to the doctor to be fitted for hearing aids,” the middle-aged woman said.

“And I keep saying no! Because at my age, why should I travel? If the doctor wants my money, he should come here.”

“The national health ministry would pay the doctor, not you,” the woman sighed.

Karula took the offered seat, right in front of the old woman. “My mother was a Given-Away girl, but I managed to track down the identity of her mother. A woman named Tenra Ji-Wen was born here… maybe around 70 years ago?”

“Oh.  Oh, I remember that. The Tenra family. Such a shame what happened to them.”

“What happened to them?”

“The father was in logging, if I remember right. Cut down trees, bring them to the city to sell to the middlemen who make logs into wood for carpenters.  There’s a lot of forest around here, but in those days there was almost nothing else; you could barely get to Bangji except by water.  There was a road, but it was packed dirt and full of ruts from the carts.  Well, you know how it is.  Every time it rained the whole thing turned into mud and we were trapped here.” Mrs. Jin nodded slightly to herself, her eyes – focused and bright a moment ago, unfocusing. Karula wondered if she was falling asleep, but it seemed she was just collecting her thoughts.

“I think it was… 40 years ago they paved the road? They were having a revolution, outside of Bangji, but it never came here. They came from the government to tell us how to run our lives, and we smiled and nodded and did just what we pleased as soon as they were gone. Found out later, they’d never returned! Bandits or wild animals or something. They disappeared without a trace.  We didn’t learn until two or three groups from the government came through and then left.  They were all vanishing. So the soldiers came, you know, because they thought we were killing these people, but we told them our protector spirit must be getting overly aggressive, and we hadn’t known it was killing. We laid down a lovely large tuna at the shrine and prayed for the protector not to kill the government workers anymore, and that did the trick. Soldiers were still suspicious, though. They quartered here for a few years, but eventually they realized, Bangji may hold to a lot of the old ways, but a lot of the newfangled stuff they wanted to bring in? We were already doing it.”

This was fascinating but had nothing to do with the Tenra family that Karula could see. For a moment impatience warred with her scholar’s curiosity. The scholar won. “Your protector spirit? Can you tell me about that?”

“No one who has ill intent toward Bangji can come here, and anyone who develops ill intent while they’re here, they never leave. The government people wanted to take away everyone’s land and make it the property of the state and then give it back to us to work on it. Well, that’s just stupid. We already live as a community; everyone takes care of everyone else. You know, everyone in the town calls me Grandmother and they all come by to take care of me, feed me, help me to the bathroom… I can’t walk on my own anymore. It bothered me at first, that everyone came, because I always used to do for myself. I took care of my kids and all their friends, and all my grandkids, and all their friends, and I was the one who did for people, and it was hard to get my head around being the one they were doing for, but you know what? I thought about it, and I earned it. I worked hard to take care of all those kids and now they all take care of me, and that’s the way life’s supposed to be, right?”

“What is the protector spirit?” Karula asked again.

Mrs. Jin cackled. “A dragon, of course! A sea dragon, what else would a fishing town have? We’re not large enough for the fish-bird to honor us with its presence, nor holy enough for qilins, but there’s so many dragons. The sea is full of them. The land too.” Her eyes went unfocused again.  “It’s the land dragons you have to watch out for. So many of them died in the purges out there. So many. The children don’t even know who they are.”

“What’s the difference between a land dragon and a sea dragon?”

“Well, what do you think? One lives on the earth and one lives in the water!  Land dragons have earth and fire and air in their souls.  A lot of them breathe fire like the Southern ones. Sea dragons have water and air, no fire or earth, but they’re more magical.”

“And what is the protector spirit?”

Mrs. Jin went unfocused again.  “I wish I knew anymore, young lady.  Back in those days the protector was definitely a sea dragon, but the soldiers… I worry about the soldiers.  For a while it was gone. Then it came back, but I’ve never seen it, so I don’t know if it’s the same one. I don’t know if the price is worth paying anymore.”

“Why wouldn’t the price be worth paying?”

Mrs. Jin shrugged. “You didn’t come here to listen to me ramble about everything and anything, though. You said Tenra Ji-Wen?”

“Yes.”

“I could tell,” Mrs. Jin nodded. “You look exactly like her. Exactly. We weren’t close; I didn’t have kids yet when she was born. She must have left, what, maybe she was seventeen? eighteen? How old are you, granddaughter?”

“Twenty-one.”

“Close enough. I knew her but we were out of sync; she was too young to be my playmate and too old to be my kids’ friend. But we all knew her. So hard she worked, since she was so small. She couldn’t even go to school. Someone had to take care of her father. She cooked and cleaned for him.”

“Wait, what happened to her mother?”

“Oh, I didn’t say? Such a tragedy, she burned.  Whole house went up in flames when Ji-Wen was little. 2, 3? Something like that. The father was out, he was a logger. I mentioned that, right?”

Karula held herself very still, showing nothing of her reaction on her face. “You certainly did, Grandmother.”

“It was a miracle. Something preserved that little girl. They found her in the ashes, crying.  Her mother must have gotten her into a cellar or something so the fire wouldn’t get her.”

“She didn’t have any siblings?”

“No, she was her mother’s first, and her poor mother never lived long enough to have another.  The father didn’t even remarry until she was, I don’t know, 14 or 15?  And the stepmother was respectful to the daughter, of course, we wouldn’t have stood for it otherwise, but Ji-Wen wanted to get away anyway. I think she probably wanted to get away the whole time, but she needed to take care of her father. So she left, a few years later. We never saw her again. Whatever did happen to her?”

“I’m not sure,” Karula lied. “I need to do some more research.  I believe she’s dead, but the details…?” She shrugged.  “It’ll come together from my research, eventually. Do you know where her mother came from? The one who died?”

“No. Sad to say I wasn’t the gossip back then that I became! Oh, I cared so much about what the kids my own age were doing, but nothing about the old people. That’s the problem with humans, you know. The young ones don’t think the old ones are people.”

“I certainly think older people are people,” Karula said, startled.

“I don’t exactly mean that. Like… we’re just here. We have our own lives, but the kids don’t care. Whereas we care about the kids, because we remember being them, but they don’t remember us unless they can remember past lives!” She chuckled. “You’re different, though. Most people who come to me with a question, they don’t have any patience for how my mind wanders. It’s been doing that since my 50’s, you know. Amazing when you think about it, I’ve been old for almost as long as I was young. If you count 50 as old. Most of the 50 year olds don’t, but the young ones like you do.”

“Your stories are fascinating. But I’m a student of folklore, and to a lesser extent history, and it amazes me to talk to someone as venerable as you, Grandmother. To be alive from before the revolution! The things you must have seen… Is there anyone coming to you to write down these stories?”

“Write them down?”

“Someone should, if no one is. Would you mind if scholars from Nandijao came here to write down the story of your life? You could tell them anything you’d like. Grandmother, you are living history and we should all learn from you.” Karula stood up. “I must go now, if there’s nothing you’d like me to do for you, but I would love to come back soon.”

“Yes, you do that! I’ll have Izhen make you tea.  We still do it the old way, you know. I’ve got one of those new-fangled gas stoves for heating water, but we do it in the fireplace, just like when I was a girl.” She gestured at the fireplace, which, thankfully, was dark at the moment.

Karula bowed hastily, dragging her eyes away. “Thank you,” she said. “I’ll be back!”

Her hands didn’t shake until she was back in her room, safe from anyone’s eyes.  The Wangs’ house also had a fireplace. But they hadn’t lit it since she’d arrived. It was summertime; they didn’t need to.

Karula had planned to take this trip on summer break because it made the most sense with her schedule. She was beginning to realize there was another reason why it had been a very good idea to do it now, as well.

***

No one but Mrs. Jin even remembered the Tenra family… which made sense, if they’d kept to themselves after tragedy struck. Mrs. Jin would have been a young woman when it had happened, but most of the town elderly were in their 70’s or 80’s; they’d have been children. It didn’t seem that there was anyone as old as Mrs. Jin, or even close.

If she wanted more detail on Ji-Wen’s mother and father—particularly mother – she’d have to go back to the Archives.  But she wasn’t lying to flatter the old woman; Mrs. Jin’s stories were a national treasure and should be preserved at all cost.  She wanted to stay here and listen to more of them. And she wanted to know more about this protector spirit. Would she be able to find independent corroboration in the death records of the government agents disappearing? That too was a question for the Archives, but to ask it, Karula needed more of the details.

***

Mrs. Wang wasn’t originally from Bangji, and Mr. Wang waxed garrulous about all the things he’d seen in his travels, but wasn’t nearly as talkative about anything local.  It took conversing with six retired people before she found someone who could give her more information about the protector spirit.

Mr. Sho was in his 70’s, but still quite vigorous. “It’s all the fish!” he boasted.  “Here in Bangji, we eat nothing but fish, and it keeps us healthy and strong!”

“I can see that,” Karula said. “I’m surprised no one but Mrs. Wang seems to be in their 90’s. All of you retired people seem so healthy!”

“Good health is a treasure,” Mr. Sho agreed. “But we do our duty. Jin Tai-Lee is the town grandmother, you know. We all love her.”

“Yes, she seems so.”

“So we don’t let her go to the temple. Better we go, before our health starts to fail us.”

Karula blinked. When had they gotten onto the subject of attending the temple? “Which temple?”

“There’s only one,” Mr. Sho said. “The shrine of the protector spirit. Where we sacrifice part of what we catch. Large fish, when we bring them in. Many fish, when we can’t get a big one. One time we gave a bucket of crabs!” He laughed.  

“And the elder people in the village do this?”

Mr. Sho nodded. “Sometimes the protector doesn’t like the offering. Well, gods and spirits and demons, they all must get bored with the same food every day.”

“What happens if the protector doesn’t like the offering?”

Mr. Sho leaned forward, his expression very serious. “It’s absolutely vital to do, you know. No one comes to Bangji anymore. There used to be bandits and pirates, and the protector spirit would save us. Then there were people from the government, who wanted us to live the way they were trying to force the rest of the country. But nowadays there’s nobody. We drive trucks full of fish down the road, now it’s paved, and we drive on back. No one for the spirit to protect us from.”

“So without anyone for the spirit to protect you from, I guess you’re afraid it’ll be angry and bored if you don’t give it good offerings?”

“If it doesn’t like the offering… it would be very bad for it to come back to the village to find one it prefers,” Mr. Sho said somberly. “So we old people bring it, and that way, if it doesn’t like the offering we provided, well…”

“Wait. Are you telling me the protector spirit – the protector spirit takes elderly people as a sacrifice?”

Mr. Sho nodded. Karula couldn’t see any sign on his face or in his voice that he was joking.  

“Is there a specific time it’s done? Would it be safe for me to go up to the shrine, or would the spirit assume I’m a sacrifice?”

“Nobody knows anymore,” Mr. Sho said, sadly. “We do what we can, but the spirit… well, we don’t speak ill of it. It might be listening.”

“It’s not protecting you?”

“We don’t know if it is or not,” Mr. Sho said. “All we know is what we have lost.”

***

“I’m probably going to return to the Archives for a while,” Karula said, as Mrs. Wang served dinner. It was a bed-and-breakfast, not a bed-and-breakfast-and-dinner, but Mrs. Wang was treating Karula more like an actual houseguest than a paying guest. “But I’ll be back.”

“I wanted you to play with me!” Lai-Mei said angrily.  “You’ve only been here a few days!”

Karula smiled indulgently. “Maybe I could find time to play with you tomorrow. My train won’t leave until afternoon.”

“Lai-Mei, this is a guest. Behave yourself!” Mrs. Wang scolded.

“It’s all right,” Karula said.

“There aren’t any children around here for her to play with,” Mr. Wang said apologetically.

Karula remembered Mrs. Wang telling her that there weren’t many children here because some of them had disappeared, possibly taken by wild animals.  She’d wondered, then, why the police hadn’t been called, why there hadn’t been extensive searches. Yes, this was far out into the countryside, but how could anyone do nothing when children were disappearing?

But Mr. Sho had implied, very strongly, that the protector spirit needed to be appeased with the lives of the elderly citizens who brought the sacrifices, from time to time. And that if they didn’t, the spirit would come to the village to find something to take.

Modern Senchai’a scholarship followed the same line as the South. There was no such thing as spirits. Nothing supernatural in the world. No dragons, no fish-birds, no qilin. Everything could be explained as fossils that ancient people had found and speculated on, or mistakes humans had made long in the past that had been carried forward in legend. Karula hadn’t truly expected to find any evidence that any of the stories she collected had any reality to them.

And yet… it didn’t surprise her. Somehow.  She considered it a genuinely reasonable theory that a protector spirit turned malevolent might have taken children – to eat? What did the protector spirit do with the sacrifices? – because it wasn’t pleased with the quality of what had been provided to it.

Was she being too credulous? Probably. Was this most likely the nonsense of peasants without any modern education? That could well be. But what if it was real?

She needed to see the death certificates. She needed to see how many children had been born here, and how many had died. She needed to return to the Archives.

But first, she wanted to see the shrine.

***

The sun had just come up the next morning when, fortified with one of Mrs. Wang’s hot breakfasts, Karula headed for the cliff where the shrine to the protector was.

Bangji was a tiny bump of a peninsula, bounded on one side by the start of the Mingshen Mountains and on the other side by thick forest, which climbed up the mountains to the extent that it could. The shrine looked out over the cliffside that faced the ocean, looking toward the east and the sunrise.  There was a winding path up the side of the cliff, with steps.

It took her an hour to make it all the way up. She was young and healthy, her legs strong; she wondered how long it took elderly people to get up here, carrying a big fish. How did they get a tuna up these steps? A large tuna would need two people to carry it at the best of times. She tried to imagine two old men, trying to tandem-carry a gigantic slippery fish, up a mountainside staircase that took a young healthy person an hour. Then she imagined that those two old men knew that if their protector spirit didn’t like the tuna, they themselves might be eaten.

After all that, the shrine itself was an anticlimax. Throughout most of Senchai, temples were large, elaborate things, or at least as large and elaborate as poverty-stricken locals had been able to build. During the revolution many of them had been destroyed, but when the new leadership came in after the revolutionary leader had died, their push to restore Senchai’s lost traditions in the name of nationalism had gotten most of those rebuilt with modern materials and architecture.  They were also, generally, shrines to ancestors. The spirit worship thing was more like you’d find in Niyong, to the east. Which was not that shocking; much of Senchai’s eastern coast had a lot of Niyong’s culture, customs and food intermixed with their own. And with Bangji being relatively isolated from the mainland, it was even more likely.

But Karula had never seen any evidence that Niyong’s spirits were real, let alone that they’d travel to Senchai for worship.

An actual Niyong shrine would generally be made of wood. Bangji’s was made of stone instead; there was plenty of easily accessible stone nearby, as the cliff face was a plateau, with another cliff a short distance inland, on top of it. It was a simple rectangular building with terra cotta tiles for a roof and white and gray stones mortared together for its walls. Inside, a candle burned in front of a tapestry showing Bangji, from the perspective of the shrine on the cliff, so the individual buildings were embroidered too small to make out much detail about them. There was no representation of the protector spirit itself anywhere, but there were some smashed pieces of terra cotta that might have once been statues.

Outside, facing the ocean, there was a very large stone circle with a very small stone wall ringed around it, and a pedestal about twice as high as the tiny wall in its center. Stains on the pedestal and a slightly fishy smell suggested that here was the place they sacrificed to their protector.

There was no evidence of a real protector spirit here. There was no evidence of human blood, but there was probably a lot more fish sacrificed than people, so that proved little. None of it told Karula anything except that Bangji had borrowed some customs from Niyong, which was hardly a surprise.

Two-thirds of the way down the steps, she was met by Lai-Mei. “Elder Sister! I thought you’d gone back to Nandijao and forgotten your promise!” the little girl said indignantly.

There was either a protector spirit, a wild animal, or an evil human being taking children from the town and killing or kidnapping them. Karula felt cold. Had the Wangs never told Lai-Mei the danger, or was she just that headstrong and self-confident?  “Why aren’t you home? Don’t you know it’s dangerous out here?”

“I wanted to find you. I was afraid you left.”

“I told you I wasn’t leaving until afternoon, and it’s dangerous out here. Lai-Mei, the reason you don’t have playmates your own age is that children have died. Or vanished. It’s not safe for you.”

“But it’s safe for you?”

“I haven’t heard of young adults disappearing.”

“It happens sometimes,” Lai-Mei said vaguely. “But we can be careful. I want to play a game of hide and seek with you!”

“I was going to go back to the house and change clothes. I’ve been up the mountain and I’m all sweaty.”

“What’s the point to that? If you play with me you’ll just get sweaty again, right?”

The child had a fair point. “…all right.  But why don’t we go down to the base of the cliff?  I don’t feel like this is a safe place for hide-and-seek.”

“Okay!” Lai-Mei began skipping down the stairs. Even with longer legs, Karula had to rush to keep up. She smiled indulgently.  She could see where the Wangs’ complaint about Lai-Mei’s energy levels came from.

The base of the staircase was an area Karula had explored fairly extensively since coming to Bangji, though obviously she couldn’t know it as well as a child who’d lived here for years.  Lai-Mei turned and looked up at her as Karula stepped off the stairs. "Now let’s play Hide-and-Seek,"  she said, a bright smile on her face.  "And if I find you and catch you, I'll turn into a dragon and eat you up."

Karula grinned. Children's sense of the fantastic always delighted her.  "And after you eat me up, then I'll chase you?"

She laughed. "You won't be doing anything. You'll be eaten."

"Oh, of course," Karula said, still smiling. "All right, I'll go and hide, and you count to a hundred."

"To ten."

"Oh, no, it has to be a hundred.  I'm a stranger to this area-- you need to give me time to find a good hiding spot." Karula took games very seriously, and had no intention of losing to Lai-Mei.  She thought it was wrong, in general, to throw competitions to make kids feel better; adults who deliberately lost to children gave them an inflated sense of their own ability.  And in some senses, her mother’s death by fire when she was a young child had aged her, made her too burdened to easily make friends with the carefree innocents most children were.  She had missed out on a lot of this kind of simple play when she’d been a child herself. Maybe she was enough of a child to want to win the game for its own sake.  

"That's fair.  To a hundred, then."  Her smile showed tiny white teeth.

Lai-Mei covered her face with her hands to count. Karula ran through the woods.  She could think of several places she’d found in her explorations that would make good hiding places.  

It was a forest. At the base of a cliff. There were plenty of large rocks jutting out of the ground, and plenty of tree coverage and brush. Karula found a spot behind one of the large rocks, where a scrubby bush had grown because a tree couldn’t take root near such a large rock. She was able to climb over the rock and carefully lower herself into the spot where the bush met the rock, shoving parts of it out of the way. Lai-Mei would be too short to see that the top had been disturbed, and from the front of the bush, there’d be no disturbance visible.

She was alone with her breathing for all of two minutes.  Then a shriek split the air. “Found you!”

Karula looked up, expecting to congratulate the girl on her expert finding skills.

Lai-Mei was standing on the rock… looming. There was no other way to describe it. Like a tiny nine-year-old girl suddenly had enormous invisible mass, ready to reach down and crush. And her pupils had turned to slits, like a cat’s.

"I see you," Lai-Mei caroled.  "And now I'm going to eat you up."

It made no sense why Karula suddenly felt fear. This was still a nine year old girl. Lai-Mei’s smile was full of sharp teeth now, tearing carnivore teeth, and her pupils were slits, but she was a child. Still, Karula rolled herself sideways along the rock to get out of the brush, and started running as soon as she was out.

Lai-Mei leapt down from the rock, over the bush, which should not have been possible for a child her age, and landed. Karula knew this, not because she was watching – her eyes were focused in front because she was running – but because she heard the thump of the child’s landing, a short distance behind her, and no sound of rustling branches or leaves.  She glanced behind herself, once, very quickly. Lai-Mei was there, grinning hugely now, her mouth all teeth, and her skin had started to take on the mottled pattern of scales.

Karula kept running.

Around trees, rocks, bushes. Through all kinds of cover. Dodging this way and that.  And behind her, Lai-Mei never faltered, never stumbled. She laughed, the high-pitched laugh of a little girl playing a fun game, as she chased after Karula, and the sound of the laughter was never cut off by heavy breathing. This was easy for her. Fun. She was playing cat and mouse, dragging out the game.

“Do the Wangs know?” Karula screamed back over her shoulder when Lai-Mei was entirely too close.

That sobered the girl slightly. She stopped shrieking and giggling.  “No, they don’t, and I don’t want them to. They’re my parents! I’m here to keep them safe.”  Then she giggled again. “I get really hungry, though…”

Karula was rapidly running out of breath herself. She used her adult height to grab a tree branch that was too tall for Lai-Mei – too tall for herself, really, but amazing how high a person can jump when their life depends on it – and pulled herself, with arm strength and then support from her legs walking up the tree, onto the branch. Lai-Mei looked up at her.  “Do you think that’s going to stop me?” she giggled.

“I want to know why,” Karula said.  “Why me?”

“You’re an outsider. I can’t eat any more children. People with children are moving out of the town.  They’ve been here, their families, for hundreds of years and they’re running away because of me. I have to protect Bangji, and that means I can’t have people just running away and moving out. If they keep doing that there won’t be a town.”

“Have you considered maybe eating the fish they bring you?”

Lai-Mei made a face. “I ate fish. I ate a lot of fish. Fish is boring all the time!  And the old people who bring it are crunchy, like I burned them. They don’t taste burnt, but they haven’t got any more juice in them than if I did. I want prey who’ll run away from me and get their blood pumping, and I don’t want it to be anyone who lives in Bangji. That means you.”

“You’re not the original protector spirit, are you. What happened to it?” The longer she could keep the girl talking, the more of her breath and strength she could get back. Also, the scholar in her wanted to know, even if she was about to die.

Lai-Mei shrugged. “Dunno. Probably got killed in the revolution or the purges or something. A lot of dragons died that way. My parents probably did too. I didn’t even know I was a dragon until I came here and went to school and then I saw pictures.”

“You’re a fire-breather? So, a land dragon?”

“I don’t know. I just told you, all I know about dragons is what I’ve read! It’s not like anyone ever came along to take me to dragon school or something.”

Dragons taking human form. The massive upheavals of the revolution, and the rebellions, the counter-revolutions, the purges. A quarter century or more of violence. Things in Senchai were peaceful now, but hadn’t been as little as ten years ago. Nandijao and Jiangpao had been peaceful enough, civilized, calm, but her father had had to flee or else he’d have been taken in the night like his friends were, and out in the countryside, government officials had still been bringing down soldiers on the heads of small towns like Bangji, because they weren’t “modernizing” fast enough. Maybe they still were.

Karula thought of a dragon in human form killed by gunfire, or a bomb, a level of violence that even a fantastic, magical creature had never evolved to deal with.  She thought of an egg left behind, of a baby born able to shapeshift, and humans taking in a wandering child.  Senchai’a dragons were supposed to be ancient and wise, but how would you ever get to be ancient and wise if you were young, and untaught by any of your own kind? “Why do you have a last name, then?”

Lai-Mei giggled. “Haven’t you figured it out?” She traced a character in the air with her finger. “Lun!” And the character she traced, the word she spoke, was the word they’d both just been using. Dragon.

“The Children’s Center taught me how to read and write when I was very little, and I learned to hide myself. I could only eat the other children if it was safe to. I wanted to go someplace where there would be more to eat, so I ran away and I found the Wangs, and Bangji. I found that they feed dragons here, as long as the dragon protects them. So I told them my name was Lun Lai-Mei. But I never told them the characters.” She sketched her true name in the air. Dragon Pursue Fierce.

“You have the order wrong,” Karula said. “You should have been Lun Mei-Lai. ‘The fierce dragon is coming?’ The way you have it, it sounds like ‘the dragon pursues ferocity’.”

“I’m going to kill and eat you, and you’re correcting my grammar? I was three! Or four, I don’t remember exactly.”

She changed, unfolding from a girl-child to a small dragon.  A land dragon, with the serpentine body of a Senchai’a dragon, and wings, and nostrils that snorted puffs of sulfur. She was no bigger than a minivan and no longer than a hearse, and her head was just slightly larger than an adult’s proportions would be, but she was definitely a dragon.

"You see, Elder Sister?"  she laughed. "I've caught you now, and become a dragon.  And now I'll eat you up."

I’m going to die here, Karula thought. She could jump out of the tree and keep running, but she had no advantages against Lai-Mei anymore; the dragon was bigger than her, and could fly, and her serpentine body could probably twist through the trees. There was no way she was going to get out of this one.

Not like this. Not without… not without the fire.

It had started when she was a teenager. A candle, a gas burner, a fireplace… any fire mesmerized her, and she’d had intrusive thoughts about self-immolation. Like her mother, who’d run back into their burning home. As she’d gotten older it had only gotten worse. Her food had to be hot, but she couldn’t cook it herself if there was a flame involved, or she’d put her hand in it, try to immolate herself.  She’d come here hoping to find out why, if there was a connection of some kind between the things she felt and the way her mother had died… and she’d found evidence that her grandmother and her great-grandmother had died the same way.

She’d wanted to find something to save herself.  But if she was going to die anyway… she wanted to taste the fire.

“Are you sure you’re a dragon there?” Karula taunted her. “You look to me more like a big dog.”

“…What did you just say to me?”

“You heard me.” Karula grinned, as insolently as she could manage.  “You call yourself a dragon? Maybe a lion.”

Lai-Mei lunged at her with a shriek, but Karula dropped to the ground, dodging the large mouth. “Oh, yes, use your teeth!” she yelled mockingly. “Dragons are supposed to be ancient and wise, not brute beasts! But sure, you’re totally a dragon!”

“Nothing you say will matter when I tear you apart!” Lai-Mei growled.

“Oh, but you’ll remember it. You want to think of yourself as a big strong dragon because you managed to terrorize some children and some superstitious old people, but I know the truth! If you were a dragon, you’d be able to flame me to death, but you haven’t even tried! You don’t even have any flame!”

“I’ll show you flame!” Lai-Mei snarled, and breathed a blast at Karula.

Karula screamed.

It burned, it was agony, but it was a cleansing agony, like the feeling of ripping off a scab or drenching a cut in rubbing alcohol, times a thousand. It was agony, but it felt right, it felt like she had been waiting for this all her life. She fell backward into light so blinding and red it was the same as darkness, as her flesh charred away. But her scream never stopped, growing higher in pitch and harsher, more tinny, and wings unfolded from somewhere as their prison of human flesh burned away, and her scream was the shriek of a giant bird. And her eyes opened.

Lai-Mei slithered backward a few steps and reared her head back, startled. “What—”

And Karula knew, now.

The memories of her mother, her grandmother, her great-grandmother, ancestor after ancestor going back thousands of years. Give birth to an egg and set yourself aflame so the baby bird will carry all your memories, all that you are. Learn to take human form. Branch out, have more children. Boys who will carry the trait into the human population, so there will be more of your kind, eventually, more lineages. Girls who will become you as soon as they die in fire.  

Karula was the Phoenix, and had always been, as her mother before her, and her mother’s mother, and backward to the dawn of time. And the Phoenix didn’t die in the flames. The flames burned and purified, took away the human shell if the Phoenix was born in one.  The ancients had had it wrong. There was more than one Phoenix and there had been for thousands of years, but within a single lineage, the daughters all carried the memories of the mothers and all the ancestors backward through time.

She spread her wings and shrieked again.

Lai-Mei screamed. "What-- what are you? You-- you were human--!!"

"No more human than you, little dragon,"  Karula called to her, with a voice that was the song of a bird.  "I am the Phoenix.  I was your guest, and you tried to kill me."

She rose into the air, wings flapping, and then dove at the dragon with a predatory screech. Lai-Mei breathed another blast of fire at Karula, but the flames that seared her strengthened her, so soon after her rebirth. She raked at the dragon’s eyes with her talons.  

Screaming, Lai-Mei took wing herself, flying like an awkward chick.  She wasn’t used to flight, not combat flight, not against an equal opponent. Karula was smaller than the dragon, but not by much; the part of her that was still Karula the human scholar wondered how she could possibly be flying at the size she was, and how Lai-Mei could possibly be flying, when both of them were far too large for their wingspans.  The part of her that was the immortal Phoenix knew that the physics of the human world didn’t apply here. Karula flew ahead of her, almost effortlessly, still mocking her.  She had never flown before, but she was the Phoenix and had flown a thousand thousand times, and in that she had far more experience than the nine-year-old dragon.

Though Lai-Mei ripped at Karula and blasted flame, the bird’s greater knowledge of flight made her more maneuverable. She dodged each time, easily, taunting the dragon-child with challenges that were fierce bird cries. Karula’s beak and talons were less deadly-- she scored the dragon many times, drawing blood, but there was no hope of defeating her that way.  Instead, she maddened the child, so that when Karula winged away from her, Lai-Mei followed, coming after her as the name she’d chosen suggested.

Karula flew and flew, and Lai-Mei followed and followed, always to the east. They closed with each other more than once, Lai-Mei’s teeth closing on fiery feathers, Karula’s talons slicing a leathery wing – but Karula would always break free, climb and head east, and Lai-Mei followed in her rage. And thenthey were over the deep ocean.  

Karula climbed steeply, straight toward the sun.  As the sunbird, the Phoenix, the bird of fire, she could look straight into the sun without penalty.  It was not the same for the dragon.  Land dragons were creatures of caves and mountains, with no more resistance to the light of the sun than a human would have.  Lai-Mei tried to pursue upward, but was blinded.  She leveled off, looking around herself for the phoenix, glancing upward sometimes… but never far enough upward. It wasn’t noon yet, but it was close enough that aiming straight at the sun brought Karula almost directly to the top of the sky.  

She dove then, landing hard at the scruff of the dragon’s neck, and dug in with her talons, pinching off the nerves to the wings and paralyzing them, as her weight drove them both downward.  Lai-Mei screamed and struggled, her wings beating feebly and erratically.  The pressure points to fully paralyze her wings weren’t accessible to a phoenix’s talons, but near-paralysis and weakness would do the job as well.  She twisted her serpentine body and tried to bite Karula, but the bird was in exactly the position that the dragon couldn’t reach her from, and Karula’s enormous wings drove both of them down toward the ocean.

When Lai-Mei hit the ocean, she sizzled and steamed.  The sea dragon who’d been Bangji’s protector spirit, long before Lai-Mei’s birth, would have thrived in the ocean… but that dragon wouldn’t have breathed fire.  And wouldn’t have eaten the children in the town she was supposedly protecting.

Karula took care not to touch the water herself as she submerged the thrashing baby dragon, and with the power of her wings she held her there, Lai-Mei’s head thrust down by the bite of Karula’s talons in just the right places, until her struggles weakened.

She turned into a human girl again, causing Karula to reflexively let go of her as the feeling of thick scale under her talons changed to soft human flesh. Lai-Mei bobbed to the surface, gasping, and looked up at Karula pleadingly through the waves. "I'll be good!"  she wheezed, struggling to stay afloat and to get enough air.  "Please, let me go, Karula! I'll never hurt anyone ever again!"

Karula hesitated.  Could the little dragon truly be blamed for knowing nothing of what it meant to be a dragon, of having the morality of a beast, when she had lost her dragon parents and mentors before she even hatched?  And it would break the Wangs’ heart when Lai-Mei never returned.

As it had broken the hearts of the parents of Bangji when their own children had never come home.

There was no blame here. No moral culpability. Lai-Mei had become a monster. It didn’t matter whose fault it was that she had done so.  It was tragic how the dragons had failed her, how the people of Senchai and their violence had failed the dragons.  But she had eaten human flesh.  The human Karula Lefaire might have wanted to take pity on a little girl… but the Phoenix knew that, to protect the dragons and the phoenixes, all the wild magical creatures of the world, and to protect the humans as well, a magical beast who’d eaten human flesh couldn’t be allowed to live.

She landed on the child, letting her weight push the girl underwater. Lai-Mei thrashed and struggled, and tried to pull Karula down into the water with her, where her own magic would fizzle and be extinguished.  But Karula had wings, and they were stronger than anything a human child’s strength could bring to bear.

In the water, a human could live longer than a land dragon, whose fire was part of their life force. But humans couldn’t breathe water either. Karula held Lai-Mei under until she stopped moving and air stopped bubbling out of her mouth.

The “protector” of Bangji was dead.  She had never been an adequate protector – the price she’d taken from the village for her protection had been far, far too high. But the village expected a protector, and in a nation where bureaucratic zeal was fond of stomping out dissidence, variance, and any deviance from the One True Approved Way, a tiny village that held to the old ways in so many things was in danger, without a protector.

Karula climbed toward the sun again, and then banked, turning toward the village. Someday perhaps she would be human again; someday she might bear a daughter to be the Phoenix after her.  And having already undergone her transformation and mastered her relationship with fire, she wouldn’t be compelled to immolate herself before the daughter was old enough to understand. She’d be able to teach her child before once again becoming the bird of fire. Someday. Perhaps.

But right now, there was a village whose only protection from a harsh central government that demanded obedience and order… was floating dead in the waves, with the marks of Karula’s talons in her flesh.  And that meant Karula had an obligation.

She swept over the town, once, her fiery wings making a contrail in the air as she passed.  The villagers looked up at her in amazement. And then she turned, and climbed again, and landed at the shrine.

On the land she could hunt for herself, but she could not dive into the sea to catch fish.  There were no large wild animals around here, and people needed their goats and pigs to survive. She would not take from humans what they needed to live any more than she would take their lives.  

But she hoped they would bring the next offering soon.  She was hungry.  And she hoped it would be hot.

***

Sorry, apparently 11 am on Monday is the new best time for posting my 52 Project fics? Still gonna try to get the next one out by Friday, though.

#52 project #fantasy #china but not really

[msmarvelwrites]

The Winter Ghost - Part 4

Info: A Devastating car crash causes you to lose your memory and start over. The only thing left in the wreckage was the horrific nightmares which plagued your mind. If you knew what today would entail you would have just stayed in bed. But you didn't and because of that, everything you knew was about to change.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Y/n

Warning: language maybe?

W/c: 3.5K (sorry not sorry)

A/n: Shuri is probably one of my favourite characters in the MCU so please enjoy her sass ❤️ Thank you again to @cutie1365 for editing and making this readable 💕

You sat in the cold steel lab, next to a pile of machines that whirled in the silent room. Small wires attached to your temples and hooked into the computers. You didn't know how you imagined Shuri, but a small 16 year old girl was definitely not it. This was who was going to be prying and prodding through your brain? I guess this is how S.H.I.E.L.D felt the first day you showed up. The thought made you stifle a laugh under your breath and wish you could only remember.

Every 10 minutes after scanning the hologram which hovered just above the desk she would stop, and ask if you were okay to continue. You would nod, unable to actually create coherent words. The process of regaining your memories was excruciating, to say the least. Shuri made it better though. She was bubbly and kind. Her voice was bright and reminded you of the wind chimes your mother used to hang on the porch.

Another blast of electricity surged through your brain, causing you to double over and yelp.

"Okay, okay, that's enough for today." She announced, crossing the room and placing a hand on your shoulder. You flinched her away desperately trying to focus away the pain.

"No. Keep going." You gasped, steadying your breath.

"Y/n, we have to take this in steps. If we dig too deep we can risk serious brain damage, or worse." She explained. You looked up at her concerned face, tears welled in your eyes but you quickly wiped them away.

"Dr. Shuri, please-”

"It's Shuri. Just Shuri. And no, I’m serious. I think we've retrieved some core memories, but there's no way to be sure." She spoke over you, turning her computer off and carefully removing the wires from your head. You winced as she pulled them out, but you were finally able to breathe right again. “We’ll just have to keep tabs on ya’.”

"How will we know what I remember?" You asked, watching her pack her equipment away.

"You won't," She stated, placing a small alcohol wipe in your hand. You blotted the small incisions the wires left behind. Gross.

"But, we'll keep doing bi-weekly checkups and monitor your behavior. There could be trigger words that Hydra has hidden in your brain. The last thing we need is you going all ‘Winter Soldier’ on our asses." Shuri giggled to herself and patted you on the back. You tried to hide the scream of pain that erupted from her contact. You suppressed a cry and smiled as best you could.

"Thank you Dr- um, Shuri. Seriously, I can't tell you what this means to me." You corrected, getting up and following him out of the room.

"Anytime. This is my new specialty I guess. I think I should consider updating my resume to super soldier fixer-upper."

You walked through the compound slowly, still unsure where everything was. Steve had assigned you a bedroom on the top level, close to Agent Romanoff, or Nat as she had asked you to call her. She and a few other former Avengers occasionally stayed in Wakanda after everything went south in Nigeria.

You hadn't really been asked if you wanted to stay here, but Nat explained that Hydra was keeping close tabs on you. It would be safer for you here while you remembered what it is they needed.

As you continued through the hallways you happened upon a large floor to ceiling mirror. You tried to not look, but your curiosity got the better of you.

Your hair was a knotted mess yesterday morning, so you decided to braid it back. Now, long strands fell from it, curling around your face and neck adding to your dishevelment. Dark circles bloomed under your y/e/c and reminded you of the sleep you so desperately needed. The faded Stark Industries tee-shirt hung loosely on your frame over the black elastic biker shorts Nat had given you to borrow. She promised she'd take you back to your Brooklyn apartment at some point to collect your own clothes. You huffed, trying and failing to tuck the few strands that fell from your loose braid back, only having two more shake loose.

As you rounded the corner you noticed two large metal doors. Loud thuds and grunts were protruding out from behind them. The closer you got, the better you could see through the small window.

Nat was sending a graceful roundhouse kick to Bucky's neck. He stumbled taking a few steps back but ultimately gained his balance again. You swallowed a gasp. Bucky was close to twice Nats size. You watched in amazement as she ducked between his legs, sending a swift elbow to the crook of his knee. He immediately dropped.

Quietly you slipped through the gym door, careful not to disturb the two while they circled each other slowly.

You watched in awe as Bucky threw a punch with his metal arm at Nat, who skillfully dodged it, grabbing his wrist and twisting. With the added momentum she swung onto his shoulders, still grasping his arm and yanked him backwards onto the mat with a loud thud.

"Holy shit!" You gasped, and quickly regretted it as the two super heros looked up. You knew they were on your side, but damn. You didn't know how anyone picked a fight with either of them. They both looked so venomous. Nats face softened when she registered your wide eyed gaze.

"She lives!" The Black Widow announced, laughing as she grabbed a towel, patting her sweat slicked face. Bucky stood then slowly, watching you intently like he was waiting for something.

You grin sheepishly and nodded. "That she does. Damn, Mr. Rogers wasn't kidding around. I still feel like I'm vibrating." You chuckled.

"Remember anything?" Bucky spoke suddenly, watching you carefully. You shook your head.

"No, not really. Shuri said it'll take time. That she recovered something, but-" you huffed, a little frustrated and body still sore. "I got this wicked headache instead." You finished. Bucky chuckled and ran his metal hand through his dark hair.

"So," You began, approaching the sparring mat, "do you think you could show me how to do that?" You ask Nat, referring to her insane fighting skills. Her eyes sparkled and she laughed softly.

"I don't know Y/n," she motioned for you to step onto the mat, "think you got what it takes?"

Her dazzling grin dropped almost as fast as her fist flew through the air. You could tell instantly that the blow would miss you entirely, but in that moment something snapped. You closed your eyes and you felt your whole body burst into flames. Images flashed through your mind and when you opened your eyes, everything moved in slow motion.

You looked to your left, watching the assassin's fist fly closer and closer. You tried to take a step back, but your body seemed to switch into auto pilot. In one smooth motion you blocked her wrist, and almost as fast jabbed her side with a harsh blow.

Natasha stumbled back, stunned. You looked down at your hands, like it was the first time you were actually seeing them. Holy shit.

“Oh God, Nat. I didn't mean to!"

Another fist flew at you, to which you ducked, dropping into a squat position you kicked your right leg out. In the same motion you twisted your body, sweeping your foot across the mat and taking Nat down as she gasped. You looked up at her, eyes wide and panting. What the-

"Fuck." Bucky finished your thought. Natasha rubbed her hip in discomfort as she reached for Bucky's hand, pulling her up.

"What the hell was that?" She challenged. You stood, stumbling back a few paces and raising your hands in surrender. What the hell had just happened?

"I- I don't know..." You stuttered, "Nat, I'm so, so sorry I-'' she waved her hand stopping you.

"I'm fine, don’t ever apologise for kicking someone's ass... Maybe you remembered something after all?" She spoke, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow sarcastically.

"My turn." Bucky rumbled. You would have frozen at the darkness in his voice, but your instincts kicked in. The soldier leaned back on his right foot, sending his left rocketing through the air and towards your face. Fire erupted through your body again, startling you awake.

Gracefully you wrapped your arm around Bucky's impending kick, absorbing the blow. His sheer strength made you stumble back a little, but you quickly slid back into the routine.

"Попался” Gotcha’, you smirked. Bucky looked at you, mouth slightly agape.

“What did you just-” He didn't have a chance to finish as you twisted your body, bringing your elbow up delivering it down onto his shoulder with a loud crack. You finished him off with a swift kick through his legs, tackling him to the floor.

"Ow," he mumbled through jagged breaths. You gawked at him in disbelief, holding his hands above his head, straddling the super soldier's waist. Bucky shifted slightly, realising the compromising position you both were in.

"Gotta hand it to ya, punk. That one actually tickled." He chuckled, as you removed your hands from his wrists. He noticed your body was still unmoving, eyes almost glassy. Carefully he tapped your thigh, knocking you back into reality. You physically shook your head, trying to center yourself.

"What happened?" You asked, still straddling Bucky. He looked at you quizzically, trying to read your face for any answers, but came up short.

"Y/n, I think we need to talk to Shuri again." He offered, picking you up by the waist and helping you off the mat.

"Yeah, I think that's probably a good idea." You said, staring wide eyed at the two former assassins.

When you entered the lab, you noticed Shuri was still there. She paced around the room, picking up sheets of paper, scanning them quickly before she looked at the hologram.

"Not possible." She breathed, still unaware of your presence. Bucky cleared his throat, alerting the engineer to the three of you.

"Holy crap!" She jolted. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on a girl with an endless arsonal of deadly weapons before?" Shuri clutched her heart, steadying her breath.

"No, actually." You voiced. Buck coughed trying to cover his laugh.

"Listen, babe. It's important," Nat started, entering the lab further and hoisting her petite figure onto an examining table. "Y/n just handed Bucky his tight ass without breaking a sweat, so we were just wondering... What the fuck?" She emphasized that last word with a raised brow and wide eyes. Bucky scoffed and rolled his eyes as if to say 'she hit you too.' You thought it was probably the cutest thing in the world, watching the former assassin stuff his hands into his pockets and glare at her like he was a kid.

"Y/n, how do you feel?" Shuri spoke, ignoring Natasha, which didn't bother her as she swung her legs daintily off the table.

"Um, fine I think. I'm a little tired but besides that-"

"What's happening here?" Captain America suddenly boomed, storming into the lab. You flinched, startled by his loud voice. Both Nat and Bucky look totally unfazed while Shuri only rolled her eyes. I guess Captains mood swings were a normalcy around here.

Natasha explained the situation to him while he passed the room, arms crossed and a scowl permanently glued to his face.

"How could you let this happen?" Steve finally barked, pointing an accusatory finger at Shuri. You thought if he had spoken to you like that you would melt away, but the small teen only scoffed and brushed him off.

"Hold up, Boomer. I didn't let anything happen. You brought her to me." She started, looking at you almost apologetically. "You told me to find Y/n's memories. That's what I'm doing. Unless you think you could do a better job with your zero years of education and that dinner plate you call a 'shield?'" She scoffed and went back to looking at her computer.

“You made my shield” Steve huffed under his breath.

“Uh, no. How dare you? I would never, the thing is incredibly impractical. I did make it better though.” Shuri mocked the Captain. Jeesh, the girl truly had balls, that's for sure.

"How do you feel?" Steve questioned. It took you a solid five seconds to realise he was looking at you.

"Oh, I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine. Just really confused." You mumbled, terrified you were going to set the Super Soldier off again.

“Well I can shed some light, would that be okay with you, old man?” Shuri spoke sarcastically to Steve. He only rolled his eyes and waved his hand motioning her to carry on.

“I ran your blood through a few tests. I don't know how I didn’t see this before. I mean it's right in front of us. You failed the drug test. By like, a lot. Which I thought was weird but to each their own ya know? Anyways, I looked into it and your body is literally emanating radiation, which got me thinking. The only people I know who literally sweat steroids are-”

“She’s a Super Soldier.” Steve interrupted. You stared at him wide eyes and back to Shuri. This wasn't possible. You didn't feel super. Actually you felt pretty crappy, to say the least.

“Not exactly. At least, Y/n doesn't have the same chemical compound as you. Whatever serum she's drugged up on, it's not one I've ever seen before.” Shuri finished, holding a test tube of your blood up and analysing it. You felt like you were going to throw up. You didn't know if it was the chaos of the situation or the fun new information that past life Y/n was a steroid junky but it was enough to make you lightheaded. You stumbled back a few paces, uneasy on your feet. A strong arm wrapped itself around your waist, steading you before you could fall. You looked up at Bucky's warm smile suddenly feeling a little more at ease. Gotcha. He mouthed, and you took a deep breath. I am calm, I am okay… Just, breathe.

Ten minutes later and a bunch of arguing the room finally stilled. Shuri explained how she suspected Hydra had a weapon similar to the super-soldier serum, only more complex. The whole thing made very little sense to you.

"Why would Hydra inject me with the serum?" You argued, skeptically.

"Because, they physically couldn't make another drop. Y/n destroyed the lab with all their research. The one they gave to her was the first of its kind. It's flawed and unpredictable. Without her cooperating, recreating a serum was impossible. However, if they injected it into our friend here, they could monitor how it developed in a controlled environment." Shuri explained.

"So, you think the serum they gave me is their super secret weapon?" You asked, stunned. Shuri only nodded.

“You're the blueprint…” Bucky mumbled under his breath. You didn't know if he had meant for you to hear as no one else in the room seemed to notice he had even spoken.

"And you're sure it's in Y/n's system?" Nat asked, her eyes scanning over you.

"I mean, I guess there's only one way to know for sure. I have this…theory. I could be wrong, but I highly doubt it… Y/n, I think it's time you meet our resident teenage witch."

You followed the team into what looked they're common room. Plasma TVs hung on the walls and large floor length windows lined the room.

There sitting on the long couch was a girl. She looked to be about your age, maybe a little younger. You watched as red ribbons of electricity shot out of her hands and through the air like dangerous waves. The small tv remote hovered mid air as her red tendrils held it.

"Maximoff, front and center!" Steve announced loudly, startling the girl causing her to rocket the remote through the air. It flew past you, an inch from your face as it crumbled into the wall behind you.

"Holy shit!" You screamed, ducking as a delayed reaction and holding your hands over your head.

"Language..." Steve lectured under his breath. You mouthed a 'sorry' and stood up again.

"Didn't mean to startle you, I just have someone I'd like you to meet. He gestured towards you as her eyes followed.

"Hi." You spoke quietly. She smiled kindly and spoke apologetically, "Hi. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to throw electronics at you." She shrugged.

"Occupational hazard when you're around me. It's kinda' my thing." You chuckled at that.

"Perfect. Now that you've met... Wanda, will you please fight Y/n." Shuri spoke dryly. The girl, Wanda, looked from Shuri to you.

"Um, no?" You blurted looking at Shuri absolutely terrified. There was no way you were fighting this chick. She just fired a remote at your head with the ease and strength of a shotgun. Hell no.

"Please, you won't hurt her. It's for science." Shuri shrugged, but you weren't sold.

"Yeah, that's not happening. There's gotta be another way we can test your theory." You shook your head frantically. Wanda looked slightly intrigued, crawling across the couch and perching on the arm rest.

"What exactly would you have me do, Shuri?" She questioned, looking wickedly dangerous. The small engineer grinned, crossing her arms over each other.

"Do what we practiced." She cooed, dryly.

The team behind you took a few steps back. You hadn't realised they had deserted you until it was too late. Wanda created a small red blast of electricity in her palm. You watched as she shaped it like a snowball, carefully dropping it between her hands. You watched in awe as it sizzled and sparked between her fingers.

“I really, really don't like this idea.” You voiced, looking back at Steve and Shuri, who only watched in anticipation.

You turned back to face her as the energy surged towards your body. Before it could explode you crossed your arm over your face protecting yourself from its inevitable blow. But it never came.

Carefully you opened one eye, and then the other. More people now gathered in the common room. You looked around at their faces, landing on Bucky who, unlike his teammates looked horrified. You looked down at your hands then, and what you saw made you choke out a gasp.

Your whole body was glowing with the same red electricity Wanda has thrown at you. Your eyes darted up to her and she just stared at you in shock.

"What the hell is happening right now?" You yelled, terrified and feeling like your whole body was vibrating.

"Exactly what I thought would happen. You've absorbed Wanda's powers." Shuri spoke matter of fact, like this kind of thing happened every day. I guess with these people it did.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Bucky demanded. He felt powerless as he watched the Witch’s energy circled around you. You nodded, reassuringly. Though you didn't know if you believed it.

"Okay, what do I do. I don't want this-" you reached your arms out and with a bright flash of red, the electricity exploded from your hands, throwing Wanda off her seat and hurling her backwards. Quickly she caught herself mid air before she crashed through the window, hovering above the floor.

"Holy crap" She screamed, checking she was all in one piece "I sincerely apologise to anyone I've done that to. That really stings." She winced as she landed back on the ground.

"Shit, I didn't mean to. I'm so sorry!" You crossed the room, making sure she was okay.

Wanda laughed, "You sure do make a great first impression." She spoke sarcastically. You half smiled, not knowing how you could help.

"I guess that's kinda' my thing." You spoke, causing a dazzling smile to dance across Wanda's pink lips.

"This is so exciting! I’m going to run back to the lab and run a few more tests. Obviously you aren't able to control how you absorb your opponents powers. You're going to have to practice before we can try that again." Shuri spoke, tearing you away from your exchange with Wanda.

"I am not doing that again." You argued, horrified that you almost chucked Wanda out a plate glass window.

"Sure you are. Come now, science experiment, let's see what else you can do." You huffed and followed Shuri’s voice.

..…………

A/n: as always, feedback it welcomed!! Let me know what you think 💕💕💕

@projectcampbell

#bucky fic #bucky barnes #bucky barns x reader #bucky x steve #bucky barns imagine #bucky x y/n #marvel smut #marvel fanfic idea #marvel fanfiction #marvel #winter solider fanfiction #princess shuri #wanda maximoff

[flirtlixie]

Proposed by a demon lord ; Yuta x reader

Prologue ; next~!

Words: 1493

( @vitaminbtob I hope you like it too 👀❤️)

"I'm exhausted... Wow, it's already 3 am? I didn't even do much today". It was Friday night, but the clock was ruthlessly pointing at 3."why did it take so long...?" So much for a Friday night "I should hurry home..". After walking for a while unconsciously, "huh...?".

"Oh, silly me. Subways don't run at this hour". Finally after arriving at a subways station, I realized that there is no train running this late. "I guess I am really tired... But, why is the station still open? Did they forget to close it down?". The last train should have left hours ago, but the subway station was still open, and the machine even accepted my metro card. (No wonder I got fooled) when I chuckled bitterly, and was about to leave- "hmm...?" I saw a subway car entering the platform "huh...? They extended the service hour?"

The train is entering the station. Please stand behind the yellow line.

"...okay, I guess they extended the working hours or something". Taking the taxi would cost 10 times more that the subway "well, lucky me" however, I should have known- what was about to happen to me...

"Hmm... Where am i?"

The train was arrived at the last station. Please check for your belongings before exciting the train.

"Huh, what?! Oh my gosh!!" I grabbed my bag and hurriedly jumped out of the train after hearing the announcement. "Oh gosh...! The last station? ... Where is this station anyways..? I should go find a bus or something. And where can I find the bus stop...?!" When I frantically ran up the stairs to exit- an intense light and blast of wind covered my entire body. "What is ... Happening right now...?"

"Where am I?

"Dear brave warrior!!" "The hero has arrived!" "Our hero is here to save us!!" "Hurray! hurray!"

"H-h-hero?!" Since then, I became their hero... A legendary hero. "So, what you're trying to say is- that a brave warrior from another dimension-" "yes, the warrior will vanquish the demon lord and bring peace to our nation" "aha, what a fairy tale..." "And it is you, who will make that fairy tale come true!" As I stood I front of a cave that has a sing that say 'Demon World', I finally spoke on this absurd situation. "I don't know how I ended up here, but I'm really not your hero". "Dear hero, this is the entrance to the demon world" (I expected that he won't listen.) "Okay, look here, gramps-" "dear hero, if you refuse to save us, we have no choice but to-" !!.

People standing behind the chief suddenly clenched their blades in a threatening manner (w-what the heck?! I thought I was your hero! Why are you doing this to me?!) "May the force be with you, hero" "huh..?!" The village chief pushed me into the cave, and I fell into the portal. "Please vanquish the demon lords, our dear hero!!" As I was getting sucked into darkness, I finally noticed what I had to fight against "demon lord... Demon lord you said..?".

"...! Lord! My lord!" "Ughh... w-where am i?" When I opened my eyes with a sharp headache... "Ohh, finally! The human is awake!" "... A pretty boy...?!" "Lord! Lord! Yuta!" "Stop shouting Haechan. You'll frighten the girl" "wow, is Winwin worried about the young lady right now?" "No, Johnny, his voice is just annoying to hear" "hem, not need to be shy" "haha, even though Winwin tends to act prickly sometimes, he's a very kind person" "Please excuse my lord. He tends to say things in an opposite way sometimes" "Yes, I totally agree!" "But still... I think Lord Winwin is a kind person" (what's going on here..? Why are they so...) In front of me where 8 guys in strange, lavish clothes that didn't seem like they were from the real world. So, without any doubt, they are- "demon lord...?" "Correct" "yeah, I'm a demon lord" "demon lord, indeed" "y-yes, I.. I'm a demon lord" "..." This sudden unexpected feeling mixed with fear, annoyance and rage, making my body tremble.

"Are you cold?" "Um, well, I..." "She seems very surprised" "then anyhow, may I know the name of this beautiful young lady?" "Oh, my name? My name is y/n" "y/n? That's a pretty name I'm Johnny lord of the North. And you're a hero correct?" "W-well that's what everyone's saying" "we do not want such an ambiguous answer" "but I don't know how I ended up in this world, and I was just pushed here, so..." "Humans can be stubborn sometimes" "how could they send such a cute girl to the demon world, all on her own? those humans sure are insane." "Y-yup, they're insane!" “ah, okay. Anyways, she's the hero or thingamajig, right? Someone explain this to her please. I hate doing annoying stuff” "me! Me! Haechannie will do it~!" “except haechan, because he's so noisy, and not Winwin because he's rude” "and not you, since you're too lazy to do it" "and ... I ... It's just too hard for me to deal with ladies, so..." "Please exclude lord Jungwoo, since... You all know the reason" "hey, what?! And you're out since you're too serious" "then, how about me?" "Jaehyun is desqualified for being too energetic, so, it's on you, Taeyong" “so that's how it's going to be” "haha" a guy with and innocent-looking eyes came up to me.

"Hello, Ms y/n" "am... Hello..." Because he seems friendly and kind I feel felt slightly at ease. "firstly I'll introduce ourselves. My name is Taeyong, I'm a next demon lord in line and I'm the apprentice of the East" "ah, I see.." "Lord Sicheng of the East" "just call me Winwin" "Lord Jungwoo of the West" "Am, haha" "and he's apprentice, and next lord in line, Doyoung" "..." "Lord Yuta Nakamoto of the South" “look here, this old man is too tired for this. Wrap it up” "Haechan, his apprentice and next lord in line" "heya!" "Lord Johnny of the North" "please, remember my name, beautiful" "and Jaehyun, his apprentice and next lord in line" "hey, I'm Jaehyun! Please to meet you!"

"So, in total, there are 8 demon lords" "demon... Demon lords, haha" "and what you have to do is, you need to-" "I need to destroy the demon-" "you need to marry one of us" "w-...what?" "You need to get married" "p-pardon...?" "Get marri-..." "Huh, what?" "Marr..." "WHAT?!?!!?" the 8 guys frowned at once after hearing me scream. "Married?! Get married?! You mean, like... Bride and groom stuff?!. So why in the world would I do such thing with people like you?!" "So, to make it short, there is a demon king who rules this world. the demon king has absolute power over us, and we cannot disobey his order, and that demon king has ordered a marriage between you and one of us" "I mean, how... How could I get married to someone after meeting for the first time, and... With a demon lord?! C'mon, marriage is not a joke!" "The demon king is aware of you, Ms y/n" "what? He knows about me?".

"Well, you see.." Taeyong hesitated at bit shyly, then finally continued to talk "he... He knows that you're the leg.. leg... Legendary hero from another dimension" I heard laughters bursting from here and there. (C'mon, I'm the one who's embarrassed the most!!!) "The demon king has a high expectation of seeing the offspring between a legendary hero and the strongest demon lord in this world" "but, still... How can anyone ask me to marry a person- oh, I mean a demon lord, who I've just met?!" "If you refuse only death awaits you" "excuse me?" "the demon king has ordered us to execute you- if you don't agree on the marriage" "execute...?!" There was no change of expression among the guys, but this strange atmosphere made me shrivel. "You most decide" Taeyong, with a worried expression, was trying to induce my answer.

(I just woke up from the subway,and people stared saying that I'm this legendary hero. I was threatened to death if I don't destroy the demon lord. And now, I'm being threatened to death if I don't get married to a demon lord?!) "People in this world are..." "..." "*Yawns*" "Yuta, such a sleepy head" "that's no way to act if front of a beautiful lady!" "Haha, Johnny, that's funny coming from you!" "... I guess female beings are hard" "that actitudes won't do, lord" (this is... Too chaotic) "we cannot disobey demon king's order" "..." (Even if I run from here, the village chief will either send me here right back or kill me. And if I don't get married, these guys will kill me.) "Well, I even travelled dimension, so marriage is nothing shocking, but-" "please, you must decide now" Taeyeon and others were eager to pull out an answer from me.

#nct 127 #nct 2020 #kpop #nct #yuta #nct yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta fluff #yuta angst #yuta fic #porposed by a demon lord yuta #yuta nakamoto #yuta imagines #nct imagines #wayv #nct dream #yuta smut #yuta soft

[pleasantwizardphilosopher]

Here it is! Chapter 2 of my current fic, based on the first one. Here I explore Lena's past.

Lena always wanted to help, even when her whole family acted otherwise, she wanted to do good. She had been adopted by the Luthors at the young age of 4, and before that, well, there wasn’t much, she had already forgotten her birth mother’s face, all that was left was warmth and melodic birdsong-like voice, soft, gentle, and caring in a way she’d soon forget, and a light smell of lavender and cotton. Her mother drowned, she is still not sure how that happened, one instant they were both on the shore of the lake, laughing and playing with the sand, the next moment it was all splashing sounds and bubbling, then, nothing. No scream, no cries, the green-eyed girl never cried and never mourned.

When she arrived at the Luthor Manor for the first time she felt how the cold halls and whispering air took an enormous spot on her heart and body, cold ice climbing up her nerves and settling as a cold hand on her skin. That feeling never went away. Her stepmother, Lillian only took one full look at her, from her small school-girl shoes to her loose raven hair and forest-green eyes and decided she hated her and would make the little girl’s life a living hell. She never broke her self-promise. She started right away, throwing her stuffed teddy bear, which still had her mother’s scent, to the trash and forbidding her to take it out. Even going as far as to send her to a boarding school in Ireland for most of Lena’s education. Lena always learnt fast, she was a certified genius after all, and learnt to control her reactions, her expressions and to lock up her emotions deep within her mind every time those ice-cold blue eyes looked at her as if she was worth nothing, every time a seething instruction came out of those fine lips, or when they turned into a disgusted scowl towards her. Lillian will never know but she helped build those two very opposite sides of Lena, the cold, calculating and rehearsed woman, and whoever Lena might be like on the inside, when no one is watching.

Actually, it was all of them, who help built Lena like that, cold, controlled, manipulative. Putting in place slowly every brick that would ultimately represent their own destruction (which she hadn’t planned, obviously).

Lionel always cared for her, in his own “here’s money” way, and loved (?) her, she’ll never really know that hell, are Luthors even capable of love? He was a first, that day in her new foster home, after the rescue teams and paramedics managed to untangle little Lena from the cold, lifeless body of her mother, hours after someone had finally noticed the bright green-eyed girl staring fixatedly and intently into the lake. Hours after rescuers and search parties came and dug her mother’s body out of the lake, blue-ish and stiff; he came into the house as someone used to be the most powerful person in the room, he stood tall as his lawyers arranged everything for Lena to go with him. She’ll never forget his eyes, cold, measured and absolutely broken, he smelled like fine tobacco, ironed clothes, and expensive vodka. The Irish girl didn’t know it, but that day Lena Kieran died, and Lena Luthor was born.

Her father did love her, or so he endlessly sore, albeit it definitely didn’t seem like it every time he got home drunk (asshole). It was, fortunately, easy to predict, most days dear Father would come home taking full swings from a very expensive whiskey bottle. It usually happened after a successful expansion, board meeting or launched project, however, other times, he seemingly just wanted to get lost, to run away from the ghosts that plagued his mind. The first signs of his arrival were the roaring engine of his sports car, roaring fiercely as the driver lacked control, almost pushing it through the front double doors. Then, after the front heavy wooden doors were closed behind him by some unfortunate staff member, the scent of sweat, saliva and booze would fill the hallways, a telltale of fear. The first time it happened, she was 5 years old and she didn’t know why Lex and Lillian had suddenly disappeared, so, she went straight to daddy, who had just arrived. Sure, he smelled sour, and his blue eyes were unfocused, glassy, but who could blame her for wanting her father’s attention? When he lifted his hand she innocently and naively thought he was going to lift her, that illusion shattered the moment his ringed hand found her cheek. The stinging pain she felt was drowned down by the hollow sound it made, like broken porcelain, fear squeezing her lungs, taking every breath from them. Tiny drops of splattered blood prickled her white blouse and light green skirt, dripping slowly from her split lip, and she prayed for someone to come rescue her. The air around them stilled, a strong smell of iron filling the hall. Just when he was about to get his second hit, with the back of his hand this time and the full blow of his rings, Lex pulled her away and dragged her to his room, far from Lionel’s grasp, her hero.

After that fatidic night her half-brother Lex, short for Alexander (how sweet), took her under his wing, teaching her everything he knew, he was the only member of the Luthor’s household who actually made her feel welcomed. Their sibling’s relationship started off easy and innocent, with Lex teaching her how to play chess, where she proved her superior ability for the game. Astonished by her abilities and smartness, Lex pulled her into more of his projects, lending her philosophy and physics books, challenging her mind, becoming her mentor, always pushing her harder. Always praised by her older brother, Lena got to overcome great problems and let her bright mind loose, coming up with revolutionary ideas and theories that Lex let her test out in his lab, by his side.

And by his side she designed many innovations that would potentially revolutionize bioengineering and medicine. Her first grand scale development was a first-aid drone, which could be programmed to arrive on site in less than 5 minutes, providing immediate help to people in need with precious extra minutes and allowing medical experts to control it remotely, giving first-instance attention to severely injured people. Its main use was car accidents. She also realized significative advances in cancer research, with nanoparticles and DNA targeted vectors. However, she also worked doing important scientific theorizing and advances with inter-dimensional travel and near-light’s speed travel, she was a certified genius after all, and could understand advanced physics as if it were a kid’s game. It was this particular work that got her giving a magistral conference during an important science colloquium. She was at her first year of PhD studies, after getting a Master’s Degrees from MIT (studied simultaneously) at the surprising age of 20, making people in scientific communities and media outlets go insane.

In that particular fair she crossed paths with several bright-minded people. There were amazing projects, as the one from a South African guy, who theorized that Tesla coils could be supercharged and employed as main power sources for industrial plants. Listening to the guy speak, adding a few helpful comments here and there, as was expected from the genius green-eyed woman; she overheard a couple of investors talking about a water purification system based solely on solar radiation. She was stunned, from what she heard of the project it could be built in series with minor costs and given at an extremely low cost to the general public. An action plan was already being envisioned in her mind, and if her numbers were correct (they always were), the overall fabrication cost would be of five dollars, selling it at seven dollars each unit would represent great profits, simultaneously making the product available for anyone anywhere in the world. She needed to see that. She needed to help them help others, as it was her wish.

She wouldn’t get to see said mind-blowing project though, as the conference she was going to give attracted more attention than previously thought, she had to get together with the staff earlier than planned in order for them to place some microphones on her person and put on a little camera-adequate make up on her face. While she was with that, several TV-screens were placed outside the venue’s auditorium for everyone to watch. Lena thought they were overreacting. She was wrong (gladly). Her conference blew out the auditorium’s capacity as nearly everyone present wanted to hear about her work, there were a few narrow-minded colleagues that tried to throw her off-balance with ironic and physically impossible theories and enquiries and a few others where there just to ogle her. However, most of them were there to marvel at her intelligence and praise her brilliance. By the end of the conference, she was quickly ushered towards a waiting car, she had received a call from Lillian that she was needed in Metropolis as soon as possible, dear father had died (such pity) from a heart attack and Lex would take over LuthorCorp.

When Lex lost his mind, she was also there, by his side. This time, unlike the many other moments she had spent next to him, she didn’t feel safe, nor free, she didn’t feel anything. There was only silence. If the world had stopped spinning right at that instant, Lena couldn’t tell. And then all noises came rushing back, like a tsunami, flooding her mind with unbearable hurt, making her throat close and her fist clench on the armrests in a desperate attempt to ground herself. His breath smelled like vodka, a nasty habit they both had taken up from Lionel, drowning their feelings, he was laughing madly, extremely loud, splitting saliva everywhere, as he told his baby sister about his mass-murder, race-wiping, plan to end Superman and all aliens on Earth. He went on and on, about how other races didn’t belong there and how humans like him (fucking psychopath) had been chosen to protect Earth, he was a savior you see (he wished). Lena wasn’t entirely listening, as her body started to get numb both from being tied to a chair and from the endless hurt and betrayal she was feeling. Her brother, the only truth she knew, the only one who always stood by her, defending her from Lionel’s worst and standing by her on Lillian’s best. Who supported her scientific quests, no matter how out of the box and unlikely they were, who held her in his arms until she felt asleep that first time Lionel hit her, rocking her softly and humming a slow melody, who gave her every book she loved. And now he was gone. The only trace left from her loving brother was his face, now twisted in a scowl almost beyond recognition. At that moment, everything Lena Luthor had built herself to be broke apart.

The FBI freed her hours later, hours from listening to Lex’s xenophobic world-domination plan. By the time they managed to hold Lex down, her tears had already dried on her face, the only trace of them being the mild light grey marks on her cheeks, where they rolled endlessly while she begged her brother to stop and come back to her, and her smeared mascara, from rubbing her eyes with her shoulders in a futile attempt to stop new tears from streaming down her face. The raven-haired woman could only listen above the piercing ringing in her ears, not minding the FBI’s questions, nor her lawyer’s. She felt empty, truly empty, up to a level where the pain seemed to have rooted into her bones and muscles, making her slow and heavy, filled only with sorrow. Just as the man being taken away was Lex’s shell, the brother who loved her and whom she admired; she had now become a shell of her own. Broken beyond recognition, irreparably, the same way glass shatters under a hammer.

She got to her apartment and packed a bag; she didn’t even need to think about it, she grabbed her most important necessities and threw them carelessly into a suitcase, closing it without even bothering to verify its contents. Calling a car to pick her up and telling Jess, her new assistant, to get the board members of LuthorCorp and her personal jet at the ready, as there were modifications that needed to take place at that moment. Without looking back, she strode out of her apartment directly into her waiting car, it took every ounce of her willpower for her not to simply run towards traffic and fling herself to the first taxi in sight. That definitely wasn’t what was expected from her, the new CEO of LuthorCorp since she was next in the succession line after Lex. Feeling her mouth go dry and the huge lump in her throat tighten at the thought of her former half-brother, she instead focused on the road to her private hangar.

Taking two Advil with a generous amount of scotch (thank you very much) she stated for the nth time to her investors why she was moving LuthorCorp’s headquarters to National City (breathe Lena), the company needed a fresh start after everything her blood had done with it, particularly a bald someone she used to know; the throbbing of her head getting worse every instant as those old white misogynists debate her ability to rule the company, as newly promoted CEO. After several more excruciating back and forth arguments her decision was accepted, and it definitely had not anything to do with the ice-cold fear that had settled in her lower back and lungs after that day’s events, nor with the horrors she saw every time she closed her eyes.

She needed a fresh start, one that allowed her to never look back, and so she did, she moved to National City, getting a penthouse in the highest building in the city, she never thought about it, she never regretted it, and furthermore, she never looked back. Not even after the moving company left all her belongings in her new home and she found a picture of her and Lex smiling, not when she first got rid of everything that reminded her of her Luthor upbringing, not when she finally cried herself to sleep, two days after arriving in the new city, two days which she spent napping for less than 20 minutes as the nightmares of her insane brother haunted her, holding her tears back with bench-press strength. She didn’t. And she didn’t regret it, as it was the least she could have asked for after the experience she had lived, seared in her mind and marked in her skin in the shape of dark red lines around her wrists and ankles, bruising slightly. As she unconsciously rubbed her left wrist softy, looking out to the city, seeing the sun rise, bringing with it the soft smell of baked bread and coffee, she thought that maybe this is where she was meant to be after all. Maybe she could forget.

Let me know your thoughts.

You can read both chapters on AO3

#supercorp #lena luthor #karlena #i am supercorp trash #supergirl #kara danvers #i wrote this on a whim #lillian is a bitch nothing new there #kara x lena #lena luthor need a hug #maybe two #this is raw y'all #please give me feedback #lex went insane again

[demivampirew]

Don’t judge a book by its cover chapter 3.

A Cap. Syverson story.

Triggers: talking about panic attacks; cursing words (I think those are all the triggers for this chapter- mostly is a very friendly chapter).

Synopsis: Rebeca is an Argentinian girl who a few months ago moved to the USA (Washington D.C) to study in university thanks to a scholarship that she was granted. She’s lonely. People don’t treat her well. Some could be understood but most of them just hate her for being a foreigner. She meets Syverson because he’s a man from the South and she has not had a good experience with people from there, but she may find out at the end that she shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Tag:  lunedelorient 

Syverson helped Rebeca get into his car and then he boarded the vehicle and turned it on. Before leaving, he called 911 to inform them about the two men. Then he proceeded to go. This time he drove at a normal pace; she was also with him on the car so he didn't want to risk making a mistake and endanger her. Also, he expected that the slow ride would give her a chance to calm down. He looked at her every few minutes to see if she was better, but she was stiff and barely breathing. Her eyes were focused on the road, but her mind was elsewhere. - Rebeca, we are home. - Syverson said breaking her trance and brought her in back to reality. She looked at him, then look outside and she set her eyes on him once again. - This is not my place.- she replied. - No, this is my house.- he indicated- There's no way I'm leaving you alone tonight. You're still having panic attacks. C'mon. Let's get you inside. They got inside the house and he made her sit on the comfortable couch. He disappeared into another room and soon enough came back with a blanket. He sat in front of her, in the tea table. He grabbed her hands and cupped them with his hands. He couldn't take his eyes off her. He could still feel her fear. He caressed her hair and called her name, trying to get her attention. Still nothing. He tried "Becky" a few times and then he finally heard her speak again "Beca", she said, "Call me Beca, no Becky. I don't like Becky". "Ok, Beca" he agreed with a smile, glad to hear her speak again. Once again, she broke into tears. Sy sat next to her and pulled her closer, letting her cry on his chest while he stroked her hair. After some time, there were no more tears left to cry and she fell asleep. The morning came and Rebeca woke up. She was lying on the couch in a fetal position, cover by a warm blanket and, as she sat slowly, she saw Sy sitting on a smaller couch close tho the one she was on. He was asleep. It took her a moment to wake up a remember where she was and what happened the night before. She felt sorry for him. Once again she had to bother him to saved her because she seemed to have a magnet for trouble. Counting the time that he stopped the car because she was crossing the street with a red light to prevent hitting her, this was the third time that he saved her. She didn't have to much time to think. After seeing the time, she realized that only had two hours until she had her first tutoring class of the day. She would have loved to call and cancel, but the family paid well and she needed that money. There was no way she would bother Sy again to take her to her place, so she wrote a note letting him know the reason why she left and to thank him for saving her and then grabbed her bag and slowly walked out of the house. Thankfully, thanks to the map, she found her way home and it wasn't that far from his house, just about 25 blocks away. Hours later, as she was walking to another one of her tutoring student's house, she received a call from Sy. - Hi! - she greeted him as she answered the phone. - Beca! Are you ok? Why didn't you wake me up to take you? - he asked worriedly - I'm fine. I didn't want to bother you again. By the way, thank you so much for saving last night. - You have nothing to thank me for and you'll never bother me. Never doubt about calling me for help. - again, Rebeca noticed by the tone of his voice that it was an order. - Ok. I have to end the call Sy. Thanks, again.- she said reaching the doorstep of her student's home. - Alright. I'll check on you later. Bye. -Bye.

As he promised, Syverson texted her twice a day to see how she was. He would call before she began her shift at the grocery store and by the time she was home. Two weeks later, she was leaving the college building, when she saw Sy waiting outside, standing with his back against his car searching for her among the crow of people leaving. As soon as he saw her, he grinned. She smiled back at him and went directly to him. Rebeca wasn't exactly a shy girl, but now, for some reason, she acted that way. - Hi - she said. - Hi - he replied. - I just was close by and wanted to check on you to see how are you doing. Not to call you a liar, but I believe that you could tell me you're fine when you're not just for me not to worry. So, I wanted to see it with my own eyes.- he explained and she laughed - I'm alright. It's not a lie. It's the truth. I'm trying to keep my mind busy so I won't think in anything that worries me, other than exams. -Hi Beca! - scream a girl as she walked towards her and Sy. The girl had curly black hair, brown eyes and was taller than both of them. She had a beautiful chocolate colour skin. She always wore beautiful clothing that made Rebeca envy her a little bit. - Hi Danielle! - Beca said. - Thanks again for helping me today. That math problem was driving me insane. - You're welcome. Maybe you could help me back and save some notes from tomorrow's 9 am class. - You're telling me that you're actually going to miss a class. You? - Danielle asked surprised - Unfortunately, yes. My boss asked me if I could go tomorrow morning because both she and her husband had important things to do. So, I've got to work. - Rebeca explained - Oh, too bad. Well, don't worry, I'll take as many notes as I can for you. -she assured - Thanks a million! - No worries. - the girl said and then looked at Sy who was following the conversation amused. - Hi, I'm Danielle - she introduced herself to him. - Oh, sorry, I'm the worst. Sy, this is Danielle; Danielle, this is Sy. - Rebeca said introducing them. - A pleasure - Sy greeted the young lady as he shook her hand. - The pleasure is all mine. I'm happy to get a chance to meet Beca's boyfriend. - she said smirking. Rebeca wanted to run off; she was unbelievable embarrassed. "Shit" she tough. She was blushing so much her cheeks burn. Sy remained silent. He just smiled at Danielle and looked at Rebeca to see if she knew what she was talking about. - Ok, I'll leave you two lovers alone. Thanks again and don't worry about tomorrow, I got you covered. - she said, winking at Beca and then left. - So, I'm your boyfriend, hu? - Syverson asked amused as soon as he made sure no one will hear them. - I'm sorry. Let me explain.- she apologized- As expected, everyone found out about the incident with Trevor. He couldn't stand the humiliation of people thinking a nobody beat the crap outta him, so he made sure everybody knew you were a military captain; that'd made him lest pathetic on his own eyes. And he also said that you were my boyfriend and you were jealous and that's why you attacked him and that all I said about him trying to hurt me was a lie. At first, I was pissed, but honestly, after hearing that the people who bother me now leave me alone, so I'm relieved. That's why I corrected anyone when they say you're my boyfriend. - That's ok. You did the right thing. - he assured her. - Do you have to go to work? - Sy asked her. - Yes. My shift starts in 40 minutes, so I should go if I don't want to be late. - she replied checking the time on her phone. - C'mon, get on the car. I'll drive you there.- He said as he walked over to the driver's side. - Oh, no. I cannot bother you again. Don't worry, I'm fine walking. - Get in the car, lady. Is an order.- he commanded her using his Captain tone and she obeyed. - So, who's the girl that you were talking to? Is she a friend of yours? - Sy questioned curiously. - More a cool classmate than a friend really.- she explained- She's one the few people that's always been nice to me, but we never hang out outside class. She's like me, a busy girl and a bookworm. - She seemed really nice. Maybe someday when you're on vacation you could hang out with her.- he suggested - Yeah. - she replied and wait a moment before speaking again - I wanted to ask her out on a date because I found out she's also bisexual, but she was dating somebody. I had a little crush on her, I must admit. - Rebeca confessed, smirking. - Do you still like her? - he asked - I find her attractive, yes. But I don't have a crush on her anymore. Once we got closer, I realized that I'd like much more as a friend, if we ever have the chance. - And how about boys or another girl? Do you like anyone? - There's someone on my mind constantly, but there's nothing going on.- she answered, blushing. - Is a classmate? - Nope. I know him from another place. He's older than me and I'm sure he doesn't want anything to do with me. - Well, you'll never know until you tell him.- he told her, offering a smile. A few minutes later, they arrived at the store and when Rebeca was about to get out of the car, Sy asked her if she wanted to go out to dinner after her shift at the store ended. She accepted and wave him as she entered the store.

#henry cavill #cap sy #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #fanfiction #demivampirew

[zi-i-think]

13 | Shame and Guilt

Pairing: Zuko x Ama (OC)

Word Count: 4600+

.☽☼☾.

~ Ama ☾ ~

         "We're pushing back the wedding." Katara firmly said. After calming down and letting everything process from last night, she went from being quiet and frightened, to loud and furious.

         "Is that really the best way to go about this?" Aang tried to rationalize with his fiancé. He was definitely angry at Azula, but he still kept a cool head.

         "Azula just interrupted my bachelorette party and threatened Ama." She motioned her hand at me.

         "She threatened you." I corrected her. I'd been silent the entire conversation and let the others tell the story of how Azula crashed the party. But I couldn't let Katara pin me as the only victim here.

         I looked around the meeting room, since the living room was still being cleaned up. Seeing the faces of my longest friends and family. "She's threatening all of you to get to me." I tore my eyes away and got up. "It's best I just leave. You all can just enjoy the wedding without worrying about Azula and be safe without me here." The others immediately started to protest against my suggestion, but I ignored them all. Allowing for my feat to take to wherever it chose.

         My breathing was getting more rapid. Each time I closed my eyes, I'd picture Mulan's lifeless eyes. Then I'd blink again and see the cold eyes of her murderer. I just needed a moment. A moment to understand everything. A moment to let out my frustrations.

         Their killers was in my house. He looked right at me. And somehow, they were working with Azula, who also claimed responsibility for Mulan's death. And in some way, that I'm not understanding, was connected with Suh, who might not even be the real Suh and was instead her insane sister Leiza. And Azula's motive was that I beat her in a fight that happened roughly 7 years ago?! None of it made sense.

         I had absentmindedly brought myself to the training yard. My body knew better than my brain what I needed. There was still a line of human shaped dummies left out from the warriors training earlier.

         Perfect.

         I went over the the opposite side of the yard, shaking my arms to prepare to let out all of my frustrations. Widening my stance and holding my arms out next to me, I began to bend the water in the snow.

        I turned it into an ice spear and flung it at one of the dummies, hitting it in the chest. But it wasn't enough for me. I sent another ice spear to the next dummy. And then another. It turned into an endless stream of ice spears, one after the other sticking roughly into the hay-filled figures.

         In one final move, I bent an entire row of spears beside me. My hands were up to my chest, palms facing the targets. With a rough skip forward and pushing my arms out in front of me, and the ice spears flew forward, sticking into the fake heads. The poor dummies were pierced with multiple ice spears. Some in the chest, arms, neck. There wasn't a single body part left untouched.

         My breathing was fast as I tried to catch my breath and I felt beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, despite the freezing temperatures.

         "I was always told that I was the one with anger issues." Zuko's voice came from behind me.

         I sighed and turned my body to see him standing by one of the blue pillars. He still wore his more casual, warm attire, and his long hair fell perfectly on his shoulders. He looked a little unsure whether he should come over to me or if I should go over to him. I decided to make it easier for Zuko and walked over to him.

         My arms were crossed over my chest and I avoided any eye contact. "Did the others send you here to talk to me?" I grumbled the question and sat down on the wooden bench.

        Zuko took a seat next to me, leaning his elbows on his knees. "No, I just thought you could use a friend." He said sincerely. "You're picking at you nails again." I looked down, seeing that I was indeed picking at the dirt – that wasn't even there  – underneath my nails. A nervous habit I've had since a little girl. I immediately stopped and dropped my hands on my lap. "You know you can talk to me about anything."

         I nodded, moving aside some of my hair from my face and tucked it behind my ear. I figured the two of us would be here for a while and got comfortable, leaning on the backside of the bench and bringing one leg up, hugging it to keep it in place."Last night wasn't the first time I've seen the two men who attacked us."

         Zuko furrowed his eyebrows and glanced down, somewhat taken aback but that new piece of information. "Why didn't you tell anyone?"

         "Because..." My shoulders raised and I shook my head. "It's a... sensitive subject." Zuko stayed silent, leaving me room to either continue speaking or for anything else I needed. "Mulan didn't die because she was sick. She and three other friends were murdered by the same men who just broke in."

         My friend sat up, leaning back and crossed his arms. He looked puzzled, obviously. Not only did I tell a lie about Mulan's death, but I also failed to tell anyone about the rest of the Miraculous Bastards. "Why did you lie?"

         "Because I'm ashamed of myself." I answered truthfully, keeping my eyes focused into the distance to avoid seeing his reaction. "After they murdered them, I held so much anger and pain I didn't know what to do with it all. I eventually tracked them down... and I bloodbent them. I almost killed them." I paused, recalling that horrid night was not something I liked to think about, much less talk about. "I would have been a monster, just like them."

         "But you didn't." Zuko slid closer to me, our shoulders just barely grazed against each other.

         "No, Zuko." I said in frustration, letting my leg fall off the bench and shut my eyes tightly, a lame attempt to hold it tears of shame. "It's not that I almost did it. It's that I wanted to. I loved the feeling of being able to kill them right then and there." I clenched my jaw, my anger being direct to myself. "Even today, I wish I did it. And I hate myself for it."

         "Don't do that to yourself." Zuko's warm hand grabbed mine, and kept it on my thigh. I swear my heart skipped a beat when that happened. "The grief of losing someone can make people feel and do things they never thought they could. It's how you choose to better yourself that matters. Speaking from personal experience."

         A light smile tugged at my lips and I rested my head on his shoulder. "I was at the Eastern Air Temple for eight months trying to, I don't know, be more in touch with myself? Achieve peace? I just couldn't move on like nothing happened or come back to the South."

         "Did it work?"

         Did it? Being at the temple helped me come to terms with the deaths of my friends. But the guilt hadn't exactly all gone away. And then with the murderers coming back to haunt me, all of the negative feelings that I've been working of getting rid of were just coming right back.

         "In some ways more than others." I came to the conclusion out loud. "I think knowing that Azula is also involved, it's a little more aggravating."

         Zuko let out a long sigh, like he wasn't expecting for our little investigation to get this messy. Well, neither of us really expected for this to happen. "Don't forget about Suh. She's been a little more on edge lately." He reminded me.

         "Do you think it might be time that we told the others about Suh?" I asked. It was a valid question. There'd be more eyes on the woman, especially since there were threats made. The others deserved to know that there was a [possible] mole in our mists.

         "Pretty sure we have to at this point." He replied. I took my head off his shoulder and nodded slowly. It was a quiet for a moment. I don't think either of us wanted to go back inside yet. The cold air was tolerable, but Zuko's hand was still on mine, and I didn't really want to move.

         "You know, Zuko, I think you've gotten easier to talk to." I stated turning my head to look at him.

         Zuko chuckled with that damn smile that was as bright as the sun. "Well I hope so. I've been told my social skills have improved a lot over the last couple years." I nodded in agreement. He spoke more naturally than years ago when there was a slight hesitation in each action or choice of words. "I have to say, it seems easier to talk to you also."

         "Shit, is this what getting older is like?" I quipped, an intrigued smile on my face as I moved my body to face Zuko better. I tucked one leg under the other and my side leaned on the backside of the bench. "Aang and Katara are getting married. Soon it might be Sokka and Suki."

         "Mai and Kei Lo have also been going strong." Zuko added, pointing at me like he was reminding me. "I wouldn't be surprised if there was an engagement sometime soon." I smiled fondly and placed a hand over my heart.

         My nose scrunched up at a new thought. "And not long after kids." I giggled while Zuko shook his head with a chuckle.

         "One adventure after another." He was right there. "But if all kids are like Kiyi I'd be incredibly grateful." Wow. It honestly didn't feel like it's been years since Zuko found the other half of his family. I mean, Kiyi was 6 when we met her. Now she was 12.

         "I think you're forgetting about the baby part." I raised an eyebrow at him, getting a huff of a laugh. "Like the diapers and waking up in the middle of the night. You know, the nightmare parts."

         Zuko groaned and threw his head back. "That sounds like a wife problem." He joked.

         I scoffed and punched his shoulder. "I pity the woman who marries you."

         "Yeah, me too." He responded with a dismal and sort of sarcastic tone.

         My jaw dropped and I shook my head. "Oh-uh. I thought you were done with the self-depreciation."

         "I was just joking. I think I'd make a great husband." He cockily raised an eyebrow, like he was teasing me. "And the lucky woman would ideally be beautiful, smart, maybe a little bit competitive." Is he? Flirting? I wasn't really sure, after all. It's been a few years. Not to mention, Zuko's my ex. We had a sort of teasing relationship because of it. But the way he said that. It was kind of like he was directing it at me.

         "I hate you." I rolled my eyes and scoffed.

         "No you don't." Why does he do that?

         How did we even get to this point in the conversation? Marriage and babies? Now he's teasing me. He knows that he was making me flustered. He has to. I wasn't exactly good at hiding my emotions all that well. There must have been a light blush on my cheeks at the least.

         Zuko and I were looking right at each other. The silence was comfortable. I found myself looking over his golden eyes and then my eyes flickered to his pink, smirking lips. I gulped. On Tui, I hope I don't regret this.

         I leaned in quickly, placing my lips of Zuko's. And for a moment, I thought he was kissing me back. But he pulled away a moment later. "Ama..."

         I sucked in a breath and covered my mouth with my hand. "Spirits. I am so sorry." I'm most definitely blushing deeply at this point.

         "It's okay..."

         "I read the signs all wrong. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry." I completely ignored him and stood up from my seat. I was so ready to leave in embarrassment. "Let's just forget that I even did that-"

         I felt Zuko's hand grip my wrist and turning me around, but I covered my eyes with my other hand so that I wouldn't have to look at him. "You can uncover your eyes, Ama."

         "I'd prefer not to." My voice was small, one that I don't recognize all that much. It only came out when I was embarrassed or sad. And at the moment, I was probably both. Just mix in some self-hate.

         I heard his fruity voice chuckled lightly at me. "Then just listen when I say that I want to kiss you. It just doesn't feel right if I'm still with Suh."

         I removed my hand and gave him a puzzled look. "But you don't even like her."

         "That is true, but she's still under the impression that I do." He said matter-of-factly. "No matter how bad she might be, I can't do that to her."

         I was sort of taken aback. A small part of me didn't really care. Suh was so rude that it didn't matter to me how she would feel. Except this wasn't as much about Suh as it was about Zuko. He had his principles and morals; and he'd be damned if he strayed from them. "I can respect that." I nodded, but kept my gaze away from him.

         Zuko's hand reached to the side of my neck, his thumb skimmed on the curved of my jaw tenderly. He made me look up at him, instead of being fixated on a pillar in the distance. "But I promise you that once this is all taken care of, I will kiss you one hundred times to make up for it." His forehead leaned on mine. It was such a small gesture, but it left me longing for more of him.

         I bit my bottom lip lightly in a mixture of delight, nervousness, excitement, probably a few other emotions. I just felt like things were starting to fall into place. It's kind of funny considering only thirty minutes ago things felt completely opposite of that. "I'm going to have to remember that."

         Zuko grinned and then glanced at the palace entrance. "We should probably get back to the others." I nodded in agreement. "And maybe keep this between us." He motioned between the two of us.

         "Sounds boring, but alright."

         "I just think it might be a bit overwhelming to tell them that Suh is a spy and then that we'd be getting back together." Again, he had a point. But I knew that he was probably just trying to refrain from any teasing or feeling flustered.

         We headed back inside together, just standing a few feet apart to avoid any suspicions. The meeting room was much quieter than when I left, but still as tense. Everyone perked up once seeing the two of us enter the room.

         Katara muttered something to herself and stood from her seat to heartily walk over to me. "Spirits, Ama. You can't just walk away from us like that." She groaned, wrapping her arms around my shoulders to hug me.

         I hugged her back and rubbed her back soothingly. "Okay, sis. I appreciate the concern." Katara pulled away from me when I said that and gave me a weird, skeptical look. Probably because my mood had changed since I left.

         "Where's Suh?" Zuko wondered and I perked up. I turned, scanning the room. Everyone was seated at the rectangular table, except for Suh.

         "She left shortly after you did." Sokka half-cared, shrugging his crossed arms. "I think it was something about how all of this stress was going to make her breakout and needed to go on a walk."

         Zuko and I gave each other a side glance and then looked back at the group. Zuko sighed loudly and the two of us went over to our seats from earlier. "Yeah, we need to talk about Suh." he started.

         "I was right about her this entire time and she's a huge fucking bitch." I couldn't help but spill, lightly slamming my hands on the table. Katara groaned and rolled her eyes, tired of hearing me voice my opinions of her. And I could hear Ty Lee and Suki giggle from a few seats away.

         "Ama, how many times are we going to have to tell you. Suh is not evil." Katara sighed, shaking her head disappointedly.

         I sucked in breath out of frustration. "Okay, listen. Suh is a spy who has been working with Azula for years. And Suh probably isn't even her name. She killed her family and took her sister's identity. She's a master manipulator and liar."

         "Do you have any proof of this?" Aang asked with an unbelieving tone and a concerned look for me.

         I huffed and fell back into my seat before motion towards my –technically still– ex. "Zuko, you explain cause they all think I'm a liar." Everyone's eyes turned to the Fire Lord who was faintly shaking his head at me.

         Zuko leaned his arms on the table, prepared to explain the deal with Suh. "I have a theory that Suh has been working with Azula since the kemurikage incident. I've been keeping her close for the past couple months to try and find Azula." He turned to give Katara and Aang an apologetic look. "I never thought that it would lead Azula here. I'm sorry."

         "But the kemurikage incident was years ago." Aang pointed out. "Would they really work together for so long?"

         "Suh is a determined person. Whatever she wants she gets." Zuko informed. "There's a possibility that Suh's took her sister's identity, making her Leiza. Leiza was taken to the same mental institution as Azula with a severe obsessive personality. She's controlling, manipulative, calculating. She and Azula needed each other to each their goals."

         "So if Azula's goal was too get to Ama, what's Suh's?" Katara wondered.

         Zuko shook his head and shrugged. "My guess is to be Fire Queen. After all, I met her through the Council's matchmaking attempt."

         "Her obsession might be with you also." Mai added in her usual dry tone.

         "I don't think a person would go through that much trouble just to marry a guy they've never met." Suki disagreed with a questioning undertone.

         "Right, what would I know. It's not like I've been around the two for the past six months." Mai shot back sarcastically and then gave Zuko a deadpanned look. "She's been hanging off your shoulder since you two met and you said she's clinically diagnosed as obsessive. It's not that hard to piece together."

         "Or a mixture of both wanting to be Fire Queen and to be with Zuko." Ty Lee proposed the thought, her finger rested on her chin investigatively. "Either way, I can believe the theory of her working with Azula. Suh kept looking out the window before the attack and was quick to get us out of the way from the crash. I can't explain it, but it felt like Suh was trying to protect me last night."

         "There's one more thing." I sighed. "The attackers who were working with Azula were the same ones who killed Mulan and some of my other friends."

         "What!?" Sokka gave a shocked reaction. "Sis, how much have you been hiding from us."

         "Look, there's a lot to unpack! Okay! I'll explain later. But now we know that there's a connection between Azula, Suh and the guys who killed the people closest to me a years ago! They're pulling strings on me and I want to stop them. So can we please gloss over that for now?" I snapped. Already regretting it because of the silence in the room.

         "So what now?" Haru spoke up. Damn it, Haru's so quiet I always forget he's here.

         "We confront Suh and force her to tell us everything she knows." Toph slammed her fist on the table. She was fuming, and honestly, it scared me. It was probably over the fact that Suh had been able to lie and Toph couldn't detect it. But Suh didn't just lie. She knew how to word things so strategically, that she didn't even need to lie half the time.

         "We can't do that." Zuko refused.

         "Why not?" Toph raised her voice. "We can force her to tell us what Azula is planning and be one step ahead of her."

         "She won't spill anything." The firebender said more firmly. "She's been able to avoid any questions directed to her about her personal life. She was able to lie to you. Are you forgetting the part where I said that she's manipulative and calculating?"

         "So we just wait for Azula to crash in again?" Katara tensed, running her hand through her hair and pacing the floor. I hated seeing my sister so stressed. She should be nervous for her wedding next week. Not worrying about some deranged women who could crash it and hurt people.

         Aang stood from his seat, the wooden chair scraped the floor loudly, getting some attention towards him while he walked over to my sister. He took her hands into his and made him look at her. "Inhale." He directed to breath in deeply and she followed his example. "Exhale." He let out a long breath after a moment.

         Katara turned to look at everyone with a more composed demeanor. Walking back to the table, she and Aang took a seat. "The wedding is still happening as planned." She gave her decisive decision. "But we need more guards around the palace and at the wedding until this is dealt with."

         "Sound's like a job for me." Sokka pridefully pointed at himself with his thumbs.

         "You don't think." I gasped sarcastically, letting my arm fall on the table. "Didn't know that was the kind of thing a commander of the tribe could do." There was a few faint giggles at my remark while Sokka gave me an unamused frown. I couldn't help giggling at myself either.

         "Haha. Very funny, sis." He rolled his eyes and only sat up in his seat straighter to give off some sort of authoritative attitude.

         Katara's hand shook her head disappointingly at us. "And I want at least one person to keep an eye on Suh at all times." She requested, or more like demanded.

         "I think Zuko's already got that part covered." Sokka firmly hit Zuko's back and gave him a thin, amused smile. Zuko just rolled his eyes at him and turned his head away. Our eyes locked and I lightly shrugged, communicating that I didn't know what Sokka was hinting at.

         "So, should we be worried about where Suh is right now?" Haru reminded everyone that while we were hear talking about the obsessive woman, who had excused herself a while ago. We all shared a concerned look. Because the answer was probably yes. We should be concerned.

.☽☼☾.

~ Azula ϟ ~

         "Azula!" I heard the obnoxious voice of Suh shout at me. I didn't flinch, though. Even if I was surprised that she was here; disturbing my meditation. "Azula, you were right." I could hear her step beside me and plop down on the floor.

         I sighed irritatedly and keeping my eyes closed to keep a semi-meditate state. "You're going to have to be more specific, Suh. I'm right about a lot of things."

         "Ama still has feelings for Zuko. She kissed him." She informed me with her angered and distressed tone. The news was interesting to me. Interesting enough to urge me out of my meditation and open my eyes.

         "Oh did she?" I cocked an eyebrow up and gave Suh an interested look. I couldn't say I was surprised. Ex or not, those two were eventually going to end up with their tongues down each other's throats.

         "Zuko didn't kiss back. Obviously." Suh rolled her eyes with disgust for Ama but confidence for herself.

        I found that hard to believe, but didn't want sit through Suh's confident rants that Zuko loved her. "And what happened after the kiss."

         "I didn't stay long after." Suh shrugged like it didn't matter. "Zuko pulled away from her and that was enough proof for me that he's way over her."

          My eyebrows raised and I scoffed at her. "You're joking, right?"

         "No, I'm not." Suh tilted her head and leaned back on her arms as she sat, like she was challenging me. "I trust Zuko. It's Ama that I don't trust."

         I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Suh was a smart girl. How could she not stay and get more information. But not only that. This wasn't the first time that I'd been put second because of Zuko. I wanted to shout at Suh. Knock some sense into her even. She was too self-assured for her own good.

         I didn't think for a second that Zuko would have any emotional attachment to Suh. She was just a pawn in my game. I would be the last person to admit that even Zuko had half a brain. He'd keep Suh around to get to me, thinking I wasn't on to him. Ha! I'd always be one step ahead of him. Suh was only needed to get me inside information that would get me to Ama. To get a peak at what could break her.

         I took in a deep breath and avoided looking at Suh. "Did you at least hear what they were talking about before you so idiotically left?"

         "Ama recognized one of your goons." Suh half-cared, primarily focusing on her nails. "She also expressed that she liked bloodbending. She still want to kill them for killing Munal."

         "Good to hear not all of your poor eavesdropping went to waste." I sneered. The information was good. It meant that things were going to plan. All of the information was probably sinking into the winey waterbender's head right now. It was finally settling that I was behind her friend's and girlfriend's death.

         Well, to be fair, that was an accident. How was I to know that Bohan and Puha were two bloodthirsty criminals who were more than angry to have a heist ruing by Ama and her group? I thought they were just regular criminals. Not that it matters. It's not like I had any guilt about it or that the guilt from a lifelong of fear mongering was getting into my head.

         I was stable, clear-headed, and perfectly fine. I've accepted that I'm a nuisance. I took pride in it even. I'd planted the seed of doubt into Zuko's brain years ago. Now it was Ama's turn.

         She had the chance years ago to kill me, but she chose the more honorable path. She could have given in to those desires that she's feeling now. Turns out I just wasn't pushing the right buttons. The waterbender had the potential to be cruel and ruthless. To be a killer. She just needed to give in. Then she'll live a life of misery, just like me.

          The weight of all her wrong doings. Of taking a life. That's what she was missing. I was almost there. Of achieving my goal. And once that happens. I'll be done here. For good.

.☽☼☾.

Okay so I’ve finally caught up on updating everything to tumblr. I’m still in the process of writing the next chapter so stay tuned!

Hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼

#fire lord zuko #zuko fanfic #zuko x oc #avatar fanfiction

[forgottenpasta]

Teach Me Dirty (m)

➤ Summary: Taehyung has a lot to teach his English teacher. Fortunately for him, you’re an eager and willing pupil.

➤ Taehyung x Reader

➤ Warnings: Oppa Kink, Unprotected Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Urethral Stimulation, Squirting, Fingering, Creampie, Pregnancy Risk(?)

➤ Word Count: 2.9k

➤ A/n: This is something I wrote a long while back, recently made some changes and decided to put it up. If the writing looks weird, then its probably because some parts were written more than a year ago. Also wrap it before you tap it please. Enjoy :D

Your feet moved fast on the pavement, breath laboured as you rushed past the pedestrians on the busy footpath. For the first time you were late for your tutoring session.

A tutoring session with the most coveted heartthrobs of the nation.

How did you get this job? Well, family ties tend to take people a long way. Just that one right connection and poof, you’re being paid 3 times more for a job that would otherwise make chump change for a person with way more experience than you. You were just an average university student who took a one year foreign exchange program with one of the biggest universities in South Korea.

Until you came here and the weight of the living expenses almost drove you to starvation. The scholarship only covered your tuition and the extra menial jobs didn’t even come close to paying the full rent of your apartment.

Fortunately and through sheer luck, your uncle was an old friend of Bang Si Hyuk.

You’d met him before on family gatherings and other such occasions and he was almost like an uncle to you too. He trusted you. You’d mentioned in passing that you were a literature major and joked about having no money and no life in the typical self condescending humour of someone trying to look cool in front of an intimidating elder. The next day you had an email siting in your inbox asking for your credentials and an interview for a teaching position with his entertainment company. 

The thought had crossed your mind that you were ultimately selected only because of your uncle, because it couldn’t possibly be that half a million English teachers wouldn’t jump at the chance of teaching Bangtan. But you didn’t want to hear the truth, so you’d never brought it up to either your uncle or the Bighit CEO. 

It had been a month into your new job and you still weren’t used to teaching boys who made your hands tremble and palms sweat with just one casual look in your direction. And you knew that they knew that you were a fumbling, nervous mess in front of them 90% of the time. At least they were gracious enough to not laugh at you or point out how maladroit you were for this job. 

Well, except for one person that is

The familiar quickening of your heart meant that you were going to be one single jittery girl in between seven testosterone filled sex-on-legs boys who probably thought of you as their daily one hour of free amusement.

But when you opened the door to their dorm after a quick customary knock, Taehyung was the only face you could see. Sitting on the long couch, he munched on an apple while a wildlife documentary played on the television. 

Of course it had to be him. 

He glanced at you lazily as you entered the living room. "You're late. The others left."

"Huh.", you huffed, still catching your breath as you put your heavy bag full of assignments down. "Where?"

He gave you a playful smile which did not match the heat in his roving eyes at all. A slow once over of you from head to tow. When his eyes reached yours again he tilted his head, as if in approval. 

"For practice. Our comeback is soon. You know that, Ms. __.”

A shiver rushed down your spine at the way he said "Ms.__". He was the only one who called you that, the rest just calling you __-ssi. Apparently, calling you Miss instead of the honorific made the English lessons more "immersive" for him. 

His words not yours.

You gulped. "And you didn't go?"

He gave you a wide eyed innocent stare. "I couldn't leave you here alone. Besides you gave me a punishment last time remember?"

You raised an eyebrow. His puppy dog eyes always spelled trouble for you. 

"You told me I'd get an F in evaluation if I didn't complete my assignment this time."

Right. The assignment. Every other member, even Jeongguk who struggled with English, had completed it. But for some reason Taehyung always day dreamed in class instead. 

Daydreamed or gave you heated stares which made you blush in unspeakable places. More than once you’d caught him staring at your legs. 

"Okay." You sat down on the carpet in front of the coffee table. "Give it to me."

His voice went husky. "Give what to you, Ms.__?” He joined you on the floor, sitting so close your knees were almost touching.

He always did this. Turned your conversations into sexual innuendos, while purposefully teasing you.

You gave him a stern look and held out your hand. "Your assignment."

His cute box smile made an appearance."Of course." He grabbed a paper from the side table and handed it to you.

Ugh. He could go from intense sex god to aegyo expert in a second. It gave you whiplash.

You grabbed your marker to evaluate him when he spoke again, shifting even closer to you. "Are you sure you want to read it though? I was brutally honest with my answers."

His deep baritone so close to your ear made goosebumps break out on your skin. You tried your best to ignore the lack of proximity between you.

"Good. Honest answers are exactly what I want.” You opened the front page.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

You furrowed your brows but ignored him, focusing on correcting his English. 

1. Write a compliment for someone you admire.

~ Ms. __ has the most kissable lips ever. 

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart raced a mile a minute. You hadn't expected this. You could feel Taehyung's heated gaze on you. 

2. What is your biggest motivation to wake up in the morning?

You were sure his answer would be regarding their fan base, the Armys being his motivation. That's what most of the other members had written. 

Boy, were you wrong.

~ Seeing Ms.___ in short skirts. 

You didn’t dare look up at him. Your face was ten different shades of red.

3. What is the one wish you want to fulfill?

~ My English teacher's long legs wrapped around me while I fuck her against her precious blackboard.

Your eyes almost popped out your sockets as you looked up at the blackboard you had had installed in their dorm during the first week of your classes. 

"Are you thinking about it, Ms.___?", his whisper snapped you out of you daze. 

You blushed even more, if that was even possible. You had been imagining you both doing it against the blackboard.

Face screaming embarrassment, you looked at him finally. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, you realised for the first time. His hard pecs visible.

He smirked. "My eyes are up here, Ms.___."

"Hmm.", you snapped your eyes up, your own chest heaving with heavy breaths. "Taehyung-ssi you can't write-"

His lips crashed down on yours. 

He moved his mouth against yours roughly, then softly, with expert ease that scrambled your brain and made all thoughts in any language nigh impossible. You were in sync when he moved above you, placing his large hands on your dainty shoulders and pushing you back on the carpet. 

"Kiss me back, __.", he breathed harshly against your mouth. You gasped at him calling you by your name.

And he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into your mouth, tasting yours. Your mouths made a frenzied mess as you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, pushing your hands in his soft hair, you clutched him even closer.

His tongue moved in and out of his mouth, mimicking his pelvis between your now open legs.

You moaned loudly at a particularly harsh thrust between your legs, your core pulsing with pleasure.

He broke the kiss abruptly, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths. "Say my name.", he ordered as he ground himself against you. The hard outline of his dick stimulated all your right places. Apparently he was generously endowed, and with that you had knowledge about something you were sure a good percentage of their fan population would want to know.

"Taehyung!", you screamed as you felt yourself gushing down there. Your panties were ruined and you could smell your arousal clear in the air.

"Properly!", he scolded, clutching your jaw in his hand. "I'm older than you."

"Taehyung oppa...", you trailed off as one more thrust made you topple off the edge. "Aahhhh.", you moaned as spasms after spasms of uncontrollable pleasure fired your nerve endings, your orgasm crashing through you out of left feild.

A first off. It usually took you at least thirty minutes to come by your own fingers and he hadn’t even touched you and you had went off in two.

He gave you no time to be mortified though.

When you finally opened your eyes after coming down from your orgasm induced high, you saw Taehyung smirking down at you. He clearly wasn't done with you yet.

"That's one out of the way. Shall we focus on making you come again now, Ms.___?", he asked, trailing his hands under your shirt before pulling it over your head. 

The cool air on your naked breasts made you shiver. So did his reverent gaze. You hadn't been wearing a bra. 

“Fuck. Such a tease. I knew you were purposefully driving me wild." He unhooked the belt on your short shorts, then proceeded to pull them off you, leaving you in your panties. "All these shorts and mini skirts. And don't get me started on those crop tops. I’ve wanted you beneath me since the first moment you stepped inside our dorm, all awkward, clumsy and so fucking sexy I could barely restrain myself from eating you out in front of my members.”

“I’m not gonna restrain myself now.” He hovered over you now, scooping down for a quick kiss as you still couldn't feel your limbs after the earth shattering climax. "Tell me you want this,__." , he pleaded desperately against your lips. "Please. I'll go insane if you stop me right now."

You pulled his shirt over his head in response, trailing both your hands down his toned chest and abdomen. "I want this.", you whispered just as urgently.

"Good girl." He moved your panties to the side, abruptly entering one long finger inside you. You grabbed at his hand as your eyes rolled back in your head when he sought and found your g-spot in less than a second, pressing against it in a circular motion. 

His head swooped down covering you nipple with bites and nibbles. He took one in his mouth, suckling for a minute before doing the same to your other breast. Both his finger and his mouth were sending you to heaven.

He was good at multitasking. 

Not wanting to be a passive lover, you pushed your hands inside his sweatpants and boxers, taking his thick cock in both your hands. He was rock hard and hot as you stroked his long length up and down.

"Fuck, baby.", he groaned against your breasts, his rhythm faltering between your legs. He sat back up and pulled your hands out of his pants.

"What?", you whined. He pecked your lips.

"I won't last long if you continue that. When I come it'll be inside you." 

With those words he moved between your knees, pulling his own finger out of you. Only to replace it with his hot mouth on your core. 

"Oppaaa!" Dizzying pleasure overwhelmed you when he caressed your sensitive clit with his tongue in a manner that told you he wanted to take his time enjoying eating your pussy. One finger circled your entrance delicately, only pushing inside shallowly to make you keen with wanting something to fill you up asap. Preferably his engorged cock. 

“Your pussy tastes divine,__. I could spend hours between your legs.” A wide lick up your inner labia punctuated his praise of your cunt. Then he went exploring, parting your folds to go deeper, to the parts of you no one, including you, had ever even thought to stimulate. Pulling apart your labia with his fingers, he tongued your urethra, digging at a hole too small to penetrate and a shock of forbidden sensation jolted through you. 

“Taehyung! What are you—”

“Do you squirt, baby?”

You peeped down at him, your heaving breasts small mountains of obstruction to your line of sight. He grinned against your pussy, a mischievous glint in his eyes setting you on edge.

“N-no, I haven’t before.”

“Great.” He gave your cunt an open mouthed smooch. “Lets see if you can.”

With one thumb he pulled back the hood of your clit, exposing the sensitive bundle to his hungry gaze. Two fingers slid inside your entrance with a slick sound, thrusting in and out, making you clench yourself around his digits. Then the torture began.

He would lick your clit till you felt your high approaching, his fingers exerting the exact amount of pressure on your g-spot as he drove them in you in shallow thrusts. Just when you started spasming around his fingers, he would slow them down, a smirk on his face as he abandoned your clit for the tiny hole hidden deep in your folds. And a different kind of sensation would assault you, a pleasure-pressure you associated when you wanted to pee real bad but couldn’t. 

“Tae! Oppa, I don’t- I wanna—“, you cried for something, you didn’t even know what. “Please!”

Then he backed off, and repeated the whole thing all over again. By the third time, you were a sobbing mess, tears running down your temples from the way he denied your orgasm multiple times. 

Grabbing his thick hair in tufts, you made him look up at you. “No no. Tae please, let me come.”

He tsked, pouting. “I will, Ms.__. But you taste so fucking sweet I just can’t help delaying the inevitable.”

“You can eat me out anytime, alright!”, you almost shouted at his cavalier tone. “Just let me come right now.”

Taehyung brightened up at that, like you’d just handed him a trophy. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Ms __. Don’t think you can back off later.”

“Whatever. Just make me come!”

He happily dove back down, fucking you with his finger with a renewed vigour as he finally took your clit in his mouth instead of giving it teasing licks. 

“Oh, fuck, yes!”

That forbidden, delicious pressure built again, peaking into a crescendo as Taehyung pressed your every right pleasure point, his fingers thrusting into your pussy with a rough speed that sent you to heaven on earth. 

“Tae, I’m gonna— Oh my god!”

Taehyung pulled his head back at the last minute, watching with a delighted groan as your abused pussy gushed clear liquid in quick streams, drenching you and the carpet below as your hips involuntary lifted with spasms. 

“Fuck, that is such a pretty sight. I knew I could make you squirt.”

Taehyung pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, rushing to shuck his pants and boxers. Evidently, he’d had enough of neglecting his own needs. He lined up against your well lubricated opening while you were still coming down from your climax. 

He didn't give you a moment to breathe before he pushed inside. Seating himself inside you completely, bottoming out and stuffing you so full, you twitched when the smouldering embers of pleasure flared up in your core again. 

"You're so fucking tight,__.", he exclaimed. Even after two orgasms your walls clasped around him greedily, making him throb inside your tight sheath. 

"Baby.", he called turning your face up with a hand on your chin. His fingers smelled like your arousal. Desire reflected in both your gazes. "Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you.”, he commanded, slowly pulling his thick length out of you, only to glide back in with a satisfied grunt. “I want it rough, is that okay?”

"Yes, oppa." You clutched his back, your nails digging in as he increased his speed. Overstimulation making you more desperate, you moved your pelvis along with his, meeting each and everyone of his downward thrusts. It was frenzied attempt to reach the fastest route to the finish. He gripped your hips harshly, leveraging himself with his feet to fuck down into you with brisk precision. 

Taehyung made sure to go in deep though, letting you feel the tip of his cock against your cervix with every drive of his hips, pummelling your cunt into complete submission. 

Your foreheads touching, you breathed each other's air, never breaking eye contact. 

"You look so beautiful underneath me, baby.", he grunted. "So wet yet so tight. You're gripping me so tight...", his words turned into incoherent, half complete whispers and sweet nothings. He thrusted in you with lightening speed now, both of you so close to finishing. 

"I-I'm gonna...", you gasped feeling herself losing control once again.

"No. Wait for me. Together baby." 

You wrapped your legs around Taehyung, clenching your core muscles to delay your climax. "Faster, oppa.", you moaned. 

"Almost." He thrusted twice. "There." One more time. "Now, __.”

You let yourself go. At the same time you felt Taehyung come as he emptied himself inside of you. He groaned your name like a plea, slowing down. 

You raked your nails down his back, aftershocks coursing through your every nerve. You felt like a limp noodle and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to walk again.

Taehyung slumped down on top of you, his warm comforting weight felt relaxing. Lips moving on your neck as he leisurely gave you a few loving kisses. 

After a minute he spoke. 

"I hope you're on birth control."

Oh shit.

#bts fic #taehyung smut #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfiction #bts x you #taehyung x reader #teach me dirty

[justalittlelitnerd]

Angry God by L.J. Shen

Man this book was a wild ride from start to finish. I knew from Pretty Reckless and Broken Knight that Vaughn had issues that were borderline sociopathic (all of the main characters in the previous books comment on his weird habits and lack of emotions) but nothing prepared me for his almost psychotic behavior. 

The book starts with the history of Vaughn and Lenora’s relationship which began on a family trip where he killed jellyfish and they bonded over a brownie. It then continued to them both attending a summer art program at Lenora’s father’s academy in London when they were preteens and Lenora witnesses Vaughn in a compromising position. A 13-year-old Vaughn breaks into Lenora’s room, darkly threatening her if she breathes a word of what she saw. 

Five years later, they haven’t seen each other since that night, Lenora’s mom has died, her father and sister have moved to the US to they very place where Vaughn attends high school, and prior to her senior year they convince her to join them. Neither of them are the same, both darker and damaged by their teenage years. Lenora swears she won’t let Vaughn rattle her even as he makes it his mission to make her life a living hell. Between stalking her, breaking into her house, making her stitch him up when he’s been low-key (I say low-key because it wasn’t fully intentional) stabbed, drawing the wrath of all the mean girls to her, and a million other things that are absolutely insane they keep getting drawn together by a sort of unhealthy possessiveness & obsession.

This book was by far my least favorite of the three and that was in part to the lack of a clear trigger warning. I knew based on the previous books that the family dynamics would be complex and the characters would have an unexpected darkness to them. But nothing prepared me for the violence, the public sex acts (though it was mentioned in the previous novels), the BLOOD PLAY (just really not my thing), and the graphic sexual assault/molestation. I had a feeling going into this book that something happened to Vaughn when he was younger to create his issues with sex and intimacy, but I was by no means expecting it to be graphicly depicted. Talking about the psychological effects of molestation is one thing (it still needs a trigger warning, but it’s important to discuss) but actually showing the acts is completely another. As soon as I realized what was happening I skimmed the retelling because it was just too hard to read and I couldn’t imagine how someone would feel if they had similar experiences. 

So basically approach this book with caution.     

Keep reading for my favorite quotes from this crazy novel.

Ars Longa, Vita Brevis. Art is long, life is short. The message was clear: the only way to immortality was through art. Mediocrity was profanity. It was a dog-eat-dog world, and we were leashed upon each other, hungry, desperate, and blindly idealistic.

We had the talent, the status, the money, and the opportunity. But if we were silver, Vaughn Spencer was gold. If we were good, he was brilliant. And when we shone? He gleamed with the force of a thousand suns, charring everything around him. It was like God had carved him differently, paid extra attention to detail while creating him. His cheekbones were sharper than scalpel blades, his eyes the palest shade of blue in nature, his hair the inkiest black. He was so white I could see the veins under his skin,  but his mouth was red as fresh blood—warm, alive, and deceiving.

Lenora didn’t strike me as a party girl. She had the strange gene, the one that made her stick out like a sore thumb wherever she went, even without the Maleficent wardrobe. I could tell because I had it, too. We were weeds, rising from the concrete, ruining the generic landscape of this yacht club town.

Watching her react to me was like feeling the first rays of sun after a long winter.

“Y’all gonna slow-dance to a Billy Joel song? If so, don’t forget to leave room for Jesus. And Moses. And Muhammad. And also Post Malone, because hey, he’s kind of a religion now, too.”

My heart accelerated to a dangerous speed, fireflies bursting forth as though escaping a Mason jar. Kissing him was like standing on the edge of a cliff. Nice view, but you knew it was deadly. Still, a stupid, irrational, dangerously alive part of you still wanted to hurl yourself down to meet your own demise. I felt his lips on more than just my lips. I felt them in my fingertips, all the way down to my toes. I felt them when my skin broke into goosebumps.

Heartbreak was a mystical, double-edged sword from where I was standing. And I had no desire to experience the full range of emotions in a car crash of feelings. Not ever going there.

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll still catch you,” he said. “I will always catch you, the fucking dumbass that I am.” “What do you mean?” “You soften me.” “Why?” “Because I don’t want to fucking kill you! You’re too fun to fuck with. Now Get. The. Hell. Down.”

There was nothing more beautiful than watching Vaughn Spencer let go.

I said nothing, not really in the mood to correct her and tell her I hadn’t asked whether she believed in ghosts or not because I knew the answer already. It was what made her presence bearable. When we were in a room together, all our ghosts were waiting on the other side of the door. I could hear them.

Strong words, but time, I found, had two opposite effects. Either it made the pain dull and evaporated the anger or it allowed you to stew in your fury, multiplying your rage.

"Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are a bit unhinged.” He said “a bit” for the sake of civility. Truth was, you couldn’t be a bit unhinged, just like you couldn’t be “a bit” dead. Being crazy demanded commitment, which I certainly showed.

He came to her room every night. Not that I was keeping tabs or anything. I was just in the neighborhood when it happened. And by in “the neighborhood,” I mean in her hallway, lurking. And by “in her hallway, lurking,” I mean clearly I needed professional help, an intervention, and a fucking life. I found myself standing behind a Louise Bourgeois statue for hours daily, waiting like some kind of a rabid Belieber.

I pushed the door open, hoping to find her working or reading or converting to a religion where she could only have sex with people named Vaughn Spencer.

I knew Vaughn was incapable of falling in love, but I wanted to steal pieces of him. His time. His talent. His words. His smiles. And yes, his virginity, too. I was a thief of everything Vaughn Spencer. 

“I am hell bound, and you are heaven sent. You’re the first girl I ever looked at and thought…I want to kiss her. I want to own her. I wanted you to look at me the way you look at your fantasy book—with a mixture of awe, anticipation, and warmth. I gave you a brownie, hoping you’d remember me sweetly, praying the sugar rush would spin a positive feel around that vacation. I remember how you looked at me when you saw me killing jellyfish. I never wanted you to look at me like that ever again.”

At nineteen, I no longer had a beating heart. I wore a death mask everywhere I went, and I was thirsty for revenge. For his blood. There was just one, tiny problem that did not occur to me beforehand. Namely, his niece, Lenora, who’d shoved a heart back into my chest. Now that it was beating again, I didn’t know what to do.

We were an unfinished business, personal and always walking the tightrope between love and hate. But we were always something, Len. We will always be something. You might move on and marry someone else, have his children and get your happily ever after, but you will never be completely done with me. And that’s the small chunk of mirth I allow myself. That’s my half of the brownie. That’s my one, perfect summer moment in the South of France, watching the face of the girl I will love forever for the very first time. Because, Lenora Astalis, this is love. It’s always been love. Love with many masquerade masks, twisted turns, and ugly truths. I don’t know where I’ll go from here, but I’ll be wishing you were there...It is worthy and beautiful, just like you. I wish I were strong enough not to do what I need to do. I wish I could get the girl. Because, Len, you are her. You are that girl. My safe place. My asymmetric happiness. My Edgar Allan Poe poem. You are my Smiths, and my favorite fantasy book, my brownie, and summer vacations in lush places. There will never be anyone else like you. And that’s exactly why you deserve someone better than me. Love, Vaughn

He just hung in the pregnant air, suspended by strings of cruel hope and tragic impossibility. Heartbreak had a taste, and it exploded in my mouth every time I tried to smile.

“You saw what I wanted you to see. I think I always had this idea that you should be my savior, but naturally, the stubborn ass that I am, I didn’t understand it. Now I do. I want you to save me today, and tomorrow, and in a month, and in a year, and in a decade. Save me. Give me your best and your worst and everything in between. I’ve always watched my dad loving my mom and thought he was stuck in a state of insanity. But he wasn’t. Turns out, love really can be that fucking intense.”

#angry god #l.j. shen #all saints high #vaughn spencer #lenora astalis #vaughn x lenora #hs romance #enemies to lovers #bully romance #new adult romance #romance books #books #book blog #booklr #quotes #book quotes

[asmallbirdinmayy]

I'm not sure why I haven't posted anything here yet since this world craziness started... Normally I would have bombarded it with posts everyday and such.

This social distancing is my life style, so I've been doing pretty okay better than most unfortunatly. Thank you Tumblr, and hours of scrolling for preparing me for this moment in time!

I've been filling my days with video games, reading and trying to force myself out for runs. I've helped my mum clean the house. (She has a bad back and would end up killing myself if I didn't go over every once in a while to help out)

I've also recently shaved my head! Finally, I've wanted to do it for years to see what I'd look like and to get rid of the years of dying it and hairstyle frustrations. I like it, but some days I get self conscious and don't end up going for runs. But maybe I'm just using that as an excuse and I'm just hella laazy!

It's a learning curve for sure, I've been reading a lot of philosophy lately and listening to the philosophize this podcast for the past year now so I've been trying to work on myself, thinking more and trying to meditate and gain self confidence and just be able to help myself help others. If that makes sense? Anyway, cutting off all your hair really helps practice Stoicism. There's no instant regrowth, and my hair takes longer to grow out than normal people.

I do love myself, a hella a lot more than I used to. There's nothing I wouldn't change, and I think that mind set alone has been what gets me out the door more often for runs and wanting to take care of my body and mind!!

I've also been cooking more, to save on money and because I'm not a huge advocate for waste being delivered to my door. I have had breakdowns however, I did it twice, I've ordered breakfast for myself to help me get up earlier and to get better coffee. Because the Maxwell can is not working out for me, and it's so gross, its taking me forever to get through it! I'll still drink it though, because, caffeine! Hello.

Back to cooking more! I've been mostly making mashed potatoes and what nots, but I'll occasionally make a vegan grilled cheese or have vegan hot dogs! I've made some pasta, quinoa and lately before bed I'll get a chia bowl ready to set while I sleep. That's pretty healthy and delicious. I've made terrible pancakes, I accidently got the whole wheat flour rather than the other stuff, soo that wasn't a fun mistake. Alas, no waste, so I have to make it into things!

I also signed up for a sustainable cities online course, lots of reading, but it was on sale. If anything it'll help me plan imaginary cities better in my head and I'll be able to put it on resumes. So level up?

I've re arranged my living room so I can easily switch between laptop and PlayStation without having to get up for any reason! +40 laziness. Aha. Fun.

Cats bombard with with attention and cuddles All. The. Damn. Time. I thought cats were supposed to not care and be independent and stuffs. Not my cats, noo. I wake up pinned, cat by my head, in the curve of my back and on my feet! If I'm laying on my back xews will be on my chest. Like hello! Let me breathe. They follow me to the bathroom, and to the couch! My couch is tiny, and all three of them find a little spot and take up all the space. It's hard to take notes! Anyway. I love them, I love their cuddles I'll never take them for granted and I'll always be like okai in the lap you go! It's nice playing a videogame with your cats stretching their paw onto your paw!. #catmum

Works been telling me the new opening day is July 3rd.. July 3rd two more months of this madness. I'm okay with it though, I'll hopefully finish the online course and get out for more runs! I've signed up the the social distancing run thing, I'm hoping to do a 10k for it!

Our government is all over the place about everything, and its making people crazy! There's lies, uncertainty questions unanswered. There's conspiracies left and right and I don't know which ones to believe. I mean some seem drastic and obviously crazier than others. I'm just not politically educated enough for this. But what if they're true to? I dunno, I've been watching a lot of things and reading stuff of history and stuffs and theirs some people that end up being corrected and proven right when people thought they were insane ? And yea people are just crazy and have their crazy thoughts. I dunno. I just want to have a back seat, and I mean my first and foremost fight is with nature, so my bias towards anything will be on how it affects the future of how we live with nature. If that makes sense? I could go on and on about this part, but this part makes me the most unwary and depressed honestly. I've been crying for days about this and where I stand, I've always been one to stand with the people. But which people? My brain hurts. I'm a sheep guys. I'm a sheep. I'm just a very lost sheeple.

People that I know from South Africa sent me a message saying that they were starving and asked for help, I wasn't sure what to do. I sent them some money, but I don't have much to give. I hope it'll be enough to get them by for a couple of days! I haven't heard from her since? So I don't know?

Anyways.

I haven't heard from my possibly future school yet about the upcoming semester and what to do, am I still able to go? Are they going to be opened by end of August? Will I be allowed to travel to another province? I'll wait till the end of May to send an email and find out! I am not doing that course online, I have a hard enough time motivating myself to do this current baby course. And I really want to do well in this course if I get there! It was a whole thing guys.

Before all this started I had started therapy, volunteering for the theater and taekwando. I'm really sad that i haven't been able to take part in these new hobbies. I had the chance to volunteer for the opening of the wizard of oz production before all the other shows at the theater got cancelled. It was amazing. Maybe I'll be able to do something similar while I'm in Vancouver. I only had one beginning trial class for taekwando, I'm slightly sad because by the time it reopens I'll probably be heading to Vancouver and won't be able to attend.

Cancelling therapy was the hardest, I had just started after years and years of being afraid to go for many reasons. I only got two sessions in before having to stop due to being laid off. But it's okay, because I still have my writing as my therapy. I end up asking the questions to myself while writing. I've read a lot of psychology, well not a lot, but a good amount. But the extra help and guidance was nice. I learned new terminology that applied to myself and my childhood and a couple other things that I'm able to sit back and acknowledge during meditations.

It was like I was finally getting out more, trying to fix myself, trying to go meet new friends and say hello to the world. And then the world was like nah. Back to social distancing! Kay, thaanks.

The last three or so days I've felt a little pull back into myself and I couldn't motivate myself lately. I think a large part of it was due to an argument I had with my mother, and the political drama that's been going on lately.

Wanting to go on runs or outside to enjoy the chilly sunny day has been a struggle, when it hasn't been I'm a while. I was playing ESO with a couple friends when all of a sudden all I wanted to do was just lay on the couch, curl up with my eyes closed and just bleh. I listening to the ESO music for a while and remembered that I haven't wrote anything in a long while on Tumblr or anywhere. So here I am, returning to my old therapy just writing my garbage thoughts to replace them with happier more motivated ones. It's sort of working, we'll see how the day goes.

All in all, I'm okay, my family is okay. And only time will tell what craziness is next for this year!

If anyone read this far down, first of all thank you. You're probably someone that I love! Love you <3 and I hope you're also doing well, and staying safe!!!

#xews #sleep #thoughts #personal #me #writings #writing #therapy