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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

#ME WRITING AN OVERLY EMOTIONAL AND SELF DESTRUCTING PIECE #yahoooooooo yipeee #soft tender harry lives in my heart rent free #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagines #harry styles dirty one shotsssss #harry styles one direction #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry angst #harry styles #cute harry #dirty harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff imagine #harry smut #fluff #hsh #dom harry

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ciggylungz · 4 years

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She’s such an actress

Bestfriend!harry grinding on yn while spooning. / bestfriend!harry you guys casually hookup and can’t get enough of each other (smut, smut and more smut)

3.1k words

“stop being a fuckin’ blanket hog!”

Y/n gave Harry a glare as she tugged the fluffy fabric farther up her body. The two best friends were on a month-long holiday with their group of friends in Italy. They’d been there six days already and Y/n was already becoming a bit snippy with Harry because the extra people in the house kept her from being able to fuck her best friend whenever she wanted to. They had a bit of an unconventional friendship, they’ve been friends since they were teens and they’re as close as two friends can be- yet one thing that separates their relationship from the relationships they have with their other friends is well, they like to fuck like rabbits. They had been doing that frequent banging since they were in secondary school, anytime Harry would be back from tour for a while from his one direction days they’d usually spend that time getting absurdly drunk and pleasuring each other.

Not having been able to really touch Harry like she’s used to for the last week, she’s starting to get needy which makes her act moody and on edge. Harry gave the girl a sideways glance, raising his eyebrows as a sort of ‘quit it’ reaction to her behavior only getting a huff from her in return. Harry had been met with this huffy puffy version of his best friend many times, whenever he’d annoy her or she didn’t get her way she’d turn on her snarky side. It didn’t phase him anymore. He of course knew why she was acting like this, but he was a little limited in how he can fix it seeing as they’re in a house with 8 of their closest friends- who would never let them hear the end of it if they got caught and he didn’t want to deal with their prying- so he was aware he’d have to deal with this attitude till he could take care of her properly.

y/n laid herself down on the couch, putting her feet in Harry’s lap under the blanket, prompting him to softly massage them for her to get on her good side at least while they watched a movie with their friends and all had a few beers after a day at the beach. The man absentmindedly ran his thumbs on the arch of her right foot, eyes on the screen as he gave her soothing touches smiling soft when he felt her twitch a little. He knew she was ticklish yet she liked when he’d give her massages, so it was an odd combination of her twitching and giggling while letting out relaxed sighs. He didn’t mind though; she had soft skin and always kept her toes manicured so he had no problem with it. He once tried to get her to do the same for him and she pretended to gag before smacking his feet off her lap which he laughed at.

His gaze averted from the screen down to his own blanket covered lap when he felt her left foot starting to nudge at his sweatpants covered crotch. Harry let out a sigh through his nose, while of course he wanted to fuck her brains out he also didn’t want to get a stiffy while sitting with their friends. Plus, knowing he got the girl so needy even her mood was affected gave him a bit of cocky pride- no pun intended. The man pinched her foot giving her a warming glance whilst shaking his head and pushing her feet from his lap, opting to go grab another beer from the fridge knowing he was driving her up the fucking wall.

Y/n was anything but pleased with his antics, so with a scowl she threw the blanket off herself and declared she was going to go shower and go to bed making sure she gave Harry a good side eye and middle finger as she pasted him in the kitchen which made the man chuckle before doing the same just to piss her off further.

Y/n changed into some sleep shorts and one of Harrys old sweatshirts he gave her years ago, she had been left to make herself cum in the shower since Harry was being a little shit and now she was even more annoyed because even after 2 shower head on clit fueled orgasms she still was dying to touch him, smell him, kiss him anything! She needed to feel his big callused hands on her skin, smell his natural musk and hint of cologne and the mint gum he chewed with a lingering bitterness of beer on the corners of his mouth. She needed her bitch of a best friend to stop starving her of the touches she’s used to getting before she threatens to put out applications for a new best friend. (she never claimed to not be dramatic afterall), even if they couldn’t get away with banging regularly here, she needed something or her head was going to explode.

Laying back on her bed she started thinking about how good he looked at the beach earlier that day. Tanned skin complimenting his tattoos, his thick thighs she loves to kiss, mark with hickeys and hump looking extra inviting covered in a sheen of sea water drying onto him under the hot sun. His back muscles imprinted through his exterior whenever he’d lift one of their friends up to toss into the water or punt a volleyball, she almost drooled at the sight of him playing the sport. And god, she could easily make out the lump of his meat through the pale pink swim shorts he was wearing. Even his soft cock could make her knees weak, she’s proved that many times when she’d ask him if she could kiss his soft length, or proposed cock warming. She had no idea how Harry could control himself enough to stay soft when he let her kiss his cock or cuddle with it inside her, but it made it undoubtably sexier to her. she had a love for his manhood, soft, hard, she didn’t care she loved it in every state. It made her feel like a two-dollar hooker, yet she didn’t care because it was her Harry. Best friends over everything.

She let out a pitiful huff, opting to scroll through her phone as she lounged in bed. In the midst of her falling down the Instagram black hole of soap cutting videos she got a text from the man that’s been driving her insane the last six days.

‘you gonna come finish the movie with us or are you gonna pout like a child?’

The young woman felt her attitude flare back up, sending him a snotty text just to get a reaction out of him, wanting to make him mad like she was- which she knew was proving his point that she was being childish.

‘I’m on tinder finding someone to fuck, finish the movie without me’

When the man read the text he knew what she was doing, and yet it still gave him a little tingle of possessiveness and irritation. Of course, he wanted her just as bad as she wanted him, but he also didn’t feed into her bratty behavior. He knew he was making it worse, and she’d give him a wack to the dick if he kept up his antics yet he took his chances wanting to see how worked up he could actually get the girl.

‘have fun, be safe call someone if you need a ride home’

To say Y/n was shocked to see him respond with that, was accurate. Her mouth went slack slightly and her chest shook a little. She was pissed, needy, and sad that he was acting like he really didn’t care about how she felt. She was sensitive, she knew her period was coming next week so her hormones were causing her sex drive and emotions to skyrocket. In her pissed off state she decided she’d really do it, just to piss him off as much as he did to her. two can play at this game.

When the girl was slipping a skimpy dress over her figure, Harry finally decided to make an appearance. He’d heard an awful lot of thumping and shuffling from her room and decided to investigate yet he was surprised to see her now in a dress that left very little to the imagination. He raised an eyebrow as he loomed in the doorway, his shoulder pressed into it while he casually leaned against the wood using his finger to motion to her body. “What are yeh doin’?”, his question made her meet his glance in the mirror a rather unamused glare coming from her eyes. “I’m going out, told y’ that didn’t i? gon’ go find someone to fuck me.”

Harry met tsked the girl slightly, walking further into the room. “No yer’ not, take that dress off and put your pj’s back on.” The man pointed a finger to her disregarded prior clothing, Y/n of course challenged this with a hand on her hip. “Yes, I am. You’re not in charge of me, I’m an adult.” Harry shrugged, not giving into the temptation to argue. “Never said you weren’t grown, I said yer not goin’ out and you’re gonna put your clothes back on. Now, get to it.” His stare seemed to have some sort of power over her, seeing as Y/n found herself quickly caving and shimmying out of the dress.

Harry took a step into the room, closing the door behind him to give her a bit more privacy incase one of their friends walked by and caught a glimpse of her in the process of changing. The girl gave him a pouty face when she stepped out of the material that now was pooled around her ankles, her tits spilling out of her bra as she stood before him in only her undergarments. He watched her carefully as she switched back into her former outfit and slowly stalked towards him, standing about a foot away from his body before tilting her head up to look at him.

Harry noticed how frustrated she was in a simple glance, a small frown forming on his own face when her waterline became a darker shade of red and tears glossed over her pretty eyes. Damp eyelashes sticking together slightly as she blew out a breath, “You’re being mean t’ me Haz, I don’t like it..” she knew she sounded pathetic but she didn’t care. She was touch and attention starved by her best friend and favorite boy and her period was on it’s way so she had a right to get emotional if she wanted to. Harry pouted at her, opening his arms for her to press herself into him which she did gladly, face smooshed into his chest while her fists bunched up his shirt. “Don’t need to cry, it’s alright bug. Everything is okay, here can cuddle yea? Will that work?” and because Y/n was so desperate at this point, she was willing to compromise for a cuddle.

The pair laid together, Y/n in her little spoon position and Harry behind her as they stared at the television that was playing on the wall. She held his large hand in hers, rings being toyed with by her fingers while she let herself be soothed by the beating of his heart against her back.

Even though Harry was plagued by thoughts of their friends catching them in a compromising position, he couldn’t help but notice his cock plumping up with Y/ns bum pressed into him. He knew it wasn’t like she was being intentionally teasing now, she’d settled for a cuddle because she just needed any touch from him but now- he was becoming the needy one. He decided to keep it subtle, acting as if he was repositioning himself yet angling his hips so his now semi hard cock could grind against the flesh of her ass. Grinding was something they did often, it was one of their favorite sexual acts. Her grinding on his thigh, cock, hips, or tummy. Harry grinding himself on her ass, clothed cunt or sometimes fucking himself with her thighs. Grinding was something they were very much into, and only after a few moments of him jutting his hips into her flesh she turned her head to see him.

“What are you doin’?” the man let out a long sigh, pulling her to roll over to face him by her hip nudging his nose with her being rewarded with a trembling breath blowing out of her lips to fan over his own. “I know you’ve been missin’ me huh? Had to keep m’ hands off yeh, ‘m sorry doll. Never meant to have my girl in tears, look I miss yeh too.” He gently grabbed her hand to migrate towards his swelling crotch letting her cup him through the material her eyes moving to look down at her moving hand, “no no, doll look at me. eyes on mine, gonna play with yeh okay? Gotta be quiet, think you can be quiet for me?”

Her nodding was so frantic she could hear the ticking noise of her brain moving inside her skull, making herself slightly dizzy for a second before Harry grabbed her attention again. “What do yeh wanna do sweetheart? Can you stay quiet if I fuck yeh or do we gotta settle for something else?” a quiet pleading whimper passed through her vocal cords almost in physical pain from the anticipation, Harry hadn’t given in yet he hadn’t let her press their lips together, pulling away to only brush noses every time she tried. “Need an answer then yeh can have a kiss.”

Y/n swallowed thickly, labored breaths coming from her body. “I can be quiet H, promise please I n-need you” her voice cracked with the weight of need, a whimper clawing its way out of her when he stood up to lock her door before shuffling back to the bed. Harry knew Y/n like the back of his hand, he could tell by the small dots of acne starting to present on her chin and the way she’s acting that her period was coming and that let him know she’d cum fast due to sensitivity, which was perfect for this risky scenario. The girl took it upon herself to start stripping herself down, bra coming off as fast as her sweatshirt did showing her slightly swollen tits and nipples a shade darker than usual confirming his previous realization.

She slipped her underwear off herself harry worked to push his sweats off as his free arm held up the duvet as an emergency shield incase the lock didn’t work watching the girl scramble to get under the blanket as she waited anxiously for Harry to join her.

His body was heavy on top of hers, chests pressed together while he guided his tip into her. Y/n instinctively wrapped around his waist, his other hand covering her mouth while he sunk himself inside the girl. Her wet warmth never failed to make his breath hitch, she felt so goddamn good every fucking time. the vibrations of her noises of pleasure tickled his palm, her drool wetting his palm whilst she struggled to keep herself together. She was always a sensitive little thing, but after a week without being touched she could hardly contain herself. Harry moved his hips in quick succession refusing to move his hand because he didn’t trust her to be quiet and honestly, he was struggling to stay quiet himself.

Harry used his free hand to anchor her thighs apart so he can get a good swivel into her, his pubic hair tickling her clit every time he circled his hips flush into her, both her cunt lips and the insides of her thighs getting stimulated with every thrust he gave her. He was well aware of how obsessed Y/n was with his lower half, including his happy trail, collection of curls sat above his cock and of course his previously fawned over thighs and every time he’d let her give him kisses down there she’d nuzzle her nose and lips into the hair. Often licking up the stripe of hair on his stomach, she really had a thing for his junk and she loved when he’d let his lower region tickle at her clit and lips while he fucked her. Y/n was on the verge of passing out, attempting to be quiet while he did everything to her poor cunt that he knew made her twitch and scream under normal circumstance. It felt almost cruel, wishing she could just scream out everything she needed to but she knew better and could focus on nothing else accept her orgasm approaching like a freight train.

Harry could feel how close she was, her g-spot has swelled a considerable amount from the way the crown of his cock massaged it with vigor during every rough thrust inside of her. she was soaking wet, almost so much so he was struggling to not slip out of her and her walls were fluttering. The clenching of her intimate muscles came in 10 second intervals warning him about her approaching climax, her eyes begging him not to stop because his palm was still firmly secured onto her mouth now completely soaked with her drool, her tongue desperately lapping at his hand to taste any part of him periodically as he drove himself deeper into her.

“Fuckin’ Christ, you gonna cum?” Y/n nodded frantically whimpering into his palm while digging her fingers into his arm trying to feel any sense of control while her body spiraled into ecstasy. With a buck of her restrained hips and trembling of her entire body she started to cum, hard .

“Oh fuck, cumming hard huh? God y/n baby fuck..where do you want it? ‘m gonna cum baby where do you want it?” his speed started to falter as he felt the pressure in his balls reach it’s breaking point, y/n responded by pointing a trembling hand to her mouth which made the mans eyes roll back and his hand quickly uncover her opening just in time for him to crawl up her body, knees on either side of her head as he spilled his seed into her drooly panting mouth. The sight was filthy, but god he swears she still looks beautiful with a mouth full of his cum and tear stained cheeks.

She swallowed it quickly, sticking her tongue out to swipe at his tip making sure she got the last drop before he rolled off her and dropped beside her. they were coated in sweat, cum and drenched in lust but god there truly was no place they’d rather be.

#harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles blurb #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles concept #harry styles au #harry styles drabble #harry styles fluff #bestfriend!harry

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missblissy · 5 years

Note

Could I get 09 clean for Arthur and reader cleaning his injuries?

((I can’t find the prompt post fmglsjkdfhgsdfg.. SORRY THIS TOOK FOREVER TO GET TOO. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING!!!!!!!!! :’D Please forgive me for holding onto this for so long))

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It burned. It stung. It throbbed. It did a lot of things. But feeling good wasn’t one of them. He knew he wasn’t going to come out of this mess looking pretty or by any means better than when he walked in. Yet he did it anyway. What a stupid man.

“This is what you get,” You said quietly, “I told you not to take that path.”

Arthur flinched and winced as you plucked another thorn from his leg. He had to have at least a hundred thrones still left to pry from his skin. On top of that, he was cut up and every thorn left a little red spot the leaked a droplet of blood, “How the hell was I gonna know they were rose bushes? They didn’t even have roses on them!”

You pinched a thorn between your finger and thumb. It was stuck deep in his calve. You gave a small tug and Arthur grunted out a sound of discomfort, “Because,” You paused then plucked another thorn, “I told you they were roses bushes,” You said in a snotty tone, “And you didn’t listen to me!”

The two of you sat alone by a small and flickering fire in the middle of a forest. The day was nearly gone, all wasted on the stupid map that Arthur had found. It was an old and torn treasure map. He was going to chuck it in the wind until you insisted on finding the treasure. That was earlier today. Now the sun was setting and you made little to no progress on finding any kind of treasure.

Somewhere scattered and lost in this thick and thorny forest were four rocks in the shape of a square. Under the rock closest to the sunset would be the treasure. No one told you that this forest was overrun with rose bushes, making it impossible to see any rocks on the ground.

You took a roll of cotton bandages from the little tin medical kit you always kept in your horse’s satchel for times like these. You dabbed away the little pricks of blood and then poured a little splash of some alcohol you had. Arthur sucked in a sharp breath as he ignored the burning. He was lucky that he was wearing jeans because that saved a good thousand thorns from embedding themselves in his skin. The majority of them got knocked down into his boots and wedged themselves in there. Smaller and sharper thorns weaved through the fabric of his jeans and straight into his legs.

“You’re useless,” You told him, “Totally and completely useless,” You were shaking your head as you spoke.

While you nursed his wounds, Arthur watched you as he leaned back onto his hands for support. He stole the bottle of alcohol you used seconds before and took a swig. He cringed and shivered, making a sour face as he drank it, “Ugh,” He scrunched up his nose, “I never liked gin,” He set the bottle back down and gave you a sneaky side glance.

You let out a small and single chuckle, “It’s imported,” You never looked up at him and he was glad you didn’t. He didn’t want you to catch him staring, “Straight from London,” He watched a smile form on your lips and it made his heart flutter into his throat.

Arthur swallowed his heart back down, fighting the lump that stole his voice. He quickly tore his gaze away from your face and decided to look into the flames of the fire behind you. He could barely notice the small stings as you plucked thorn after thorns. The awkward pounding of his heart blocked out everything.

He drifted into a mindset that he knew he should avoid at all costs. But he couldn’t stop those thoughts even if he wanted too. As he stared into the flames and as the flames glared back, Arthur thought about how much he loved you. Despite his best efforts to keep that to himself and to ignore those feelings, Arthur knew he was hopeless, and totally and completely useless. On top of that, he wasn’t the smartest person in the world either. He had no idea how you felt about him, if you felt the same, or if you didn’t care at all.

Watching the fire dance across the logs, Arthur could remember how he swore off love. Too many people ruined that for him, there was no reason to take risks or chances. His life was perfect the way it was. Lonely, simple, dangerous, and only slightly chaotic. See? As perfect as could be. It was so perfect that Arthur had convinced himself that he never wanted to marry, he never wanted to have children, he never wanted to settle down and live a quiet life. Why? Well… He didn’t deserve it. He was a bad man, an awful man. He had killed more people than he could count. He stole from more people he could remember. He was not worthy of anyone’s love, not even his own.

It only felt like seconds, but it must have been almost an hour of him sitting there, silent and stoic and still as he stared into the flame’s heart. You were content with the sound of silence mingling with the pops of embers. It made it easier for you to focus on all the thorns left in Arthur’s legs, and you didn’t mind that neither of you spoke. But it bothered Arthur. It made him uncomfortable, it made it want to say something. He just didn’t know what to say.

He sat forward, slightly hunched and with his hands in his lap. They were sweaty and clammy. Why was he so flustered? Was it because this was the closest you have ever been to him? Was it because for the first time he ever felt your hands on him? Maybe. He was normally pretty good at keeping these feelings in check. A question popped into his head as you threw away the last thorn in his leg.

What made you so special? What was it about you that he loved? He thought you were beautiful for starters. To him, you were an otherworldly creature that just didn’t make sense. You looked as though you were a governor’s daughter. You were prim and elegant with defined features, yet at the same time, you were the furthest thing from a proper lady. Arthur had only seen you in a dress once, and that was the first day he met you.

He recalled the memory where he found a weeping bride, sitting on the steps of an empty church. Your husband-to-be had abandoned you. He stole all of your father’s dowery and fled the state. When Arthur approached you and asked you what was wrong, he expected you to be heartbroken. You completely took him by surprise, you weren’t upset that your fiance had abandoned you, in fact, you were elated that he ran off. But you were crying because he stole your horse, and in her saddle was your last bottle of gin and the last five dollars to your name. You were more upset that you lost your gin, you could have cared less about whatever his name was.

From that day on he quickly understood why your fiance left you. You were wild and untamable, you were broken and beaten and filled with too much hate for such a tiny body. You were a tornado on a path of total destruction. He liked that about you though. You weren’t an evil or malice person by nature. He saw the tender side of you that reflected in your actions when you joined the gang. You always wanted to help out. You’d cook and clean and do all the extra chores that no one wanted to do. You’d go hunting, you’d go on heists. You quickly proved your loyalty to the gang. Arthur liked that about you too.

But he knew the real reason why he grew to like you so much. It wasn’t that you were spunky and wild, it wasn’t because you were loyal to the gang, it wasn’t because he thought you were pretty. It wasn’t because you were a skilled gunslinger.

Arthur Morgan loved you so much because he could be his true self around you. He could make a sarcastic comment in camp and you’d be the only one to laugh. You got his humor. Arthur could tell you anything, he wasn’t afraid of talking to you because you’d rather listen to him and hear what he has to say, rather than talking at him about his problems. You were a good listener. He also didn’t have to lie about who he was to you, he could be totally and completely honest about his life, his line of work, and his toxic nature.

He was staring at you again, and you caught him. Arthur was yanked from his thoughts when you smiled at him and asked, “Something on my face?”

God! Why did you have to be so perfect!? Arthur coughed and awkwardly looked away, “No,” He felt his face started to burn. Thank god it was dark out. He fixed his hat, grabbing it by the rim and tilting it down to cover up his face as best as possible.

You had finished plucking every last thorn from his legs a while ago. Now you were digging around for the damn treasure map. You either didn’t notice Arthur’s uncomfortable mood or you choose to ignore it. Regardless, Arthur felt like an idiot.

“I don’t know how to break this to you,” You suddenly said, and Arthur had a minor panic attack. He darted his gaze and watched ou from the corner of his eyes. He didn’t want to face you, “But,” You paused again. He was still sitting on the large rock, while you sat on the ground. You brushed against his legs as you dug around in a bag of yours. Finally, you pulled the treasure map out, “I don’t think we’re gonna find this gold,”

He could breathe again. Arthur finally faced you and said, “I didn’t want to in the first place.” Yet he kept his head low, eyes covered by the rim of his hat.

You laughed to his surprise, “I didn’t really want to either. I just wanted to get out of camp.” You balled up the map and tossed it into the fire, watching it go up in flames.

Nothing was said after that, and the loud emptiness of silence returned between the two of you. Minutes passed, nothing was said. You finished your bottle of gin and managed to pull another one of nowhere. Arthur took a risk and tapped you on the shoulder, then waved his hand while he silently asked for a swig from the bottle. He wouldn’t look at you though. Was he mad?

This is when he noticed, however, that you were very drunk. You were staring at him with a slippery smile sloshed onto your face with dark eyes. You tried to hand him the bottle but only managed to make a mess of yourself. Gin splashed out of the top of the bottle and you missed Arthur’s hand by a hundred miles. The gin spilled down your arm and on your legs. And all you had to say was, “Whoops,” with a drunken smile.

Arthur snatched the bottle away and let out a low hostile grumble, which caused you to frown. As he tipped the bottle back you asked, “What’s gotten you so- Hey! That was my last bottle!”

He tossed that into the darkness beyond the fire, into the forest, “I’ll buy you another one tomorrow,” He said lowly.

Why was he acting like this? Why was he so... bitter? You frowned again and got onto your knees while pointing a finger at him, “Stop it! You’re grumpy!” You slurred out, “Today was a good day!” You tried to smile, “Be happy, Arthur!” As you tried to get to your feet, you managed to stumble over your own legs and right into Arthur’s lap.

You fell between his legs while Arthur managed to hook you by your arms and held you up, “(Y/n)!” He started to scold you but you cut him off before he could.

“You’re not mad about the treasure, are you?” You asked as Arthur watched your emotions change faster than ever before, “Arthuurr! Don’t be mad!” You attempted to ‘climb’ up him, but Arthur grabbed you by both your wrists.

He tried to keep his distance, leaning away while holding you at arm’s length, “Goddammit!” He swore at you, “(Y/n)! You’re drunker than Swanson on a Sunday morning!”

You noticed how mad Arthur looked and gave up. You stood there with a sorry look on your face. Arthur still held onto your wrists as you looked at the ground, “I’m sorry,” You said, “We were having such a nice day together,” Your words surprised him but you barely noticed, “I didn’t want it to be ruined because of a stupid map. I didn’t even care about the map. I just wanted to spend time with you.”

Arthur was still leaning back, and as he moved to sit up straight, his hat slid off his head, falling behind him and onto the rock that he sat on. You could see the flustered look on his face melt away and form into something you couldn’t quite understand.

“You mean that?” He asked, finally staring back at you. Suddenly it was you who was flustered. The way the fire lit up his face, casting shadows in the best of places.

You tugged away but he held onto your wrists, gripping them only slightly tighter, “I-... Yeah, I had a great day-”

“No,” Even though he cut you off, he said it so softly. Slow and careful. His next words were spoken just the same, “You wanted to spend time with me?”

For some reason, the only response you could muster out was a nervous laugh. You looked away from him, then back, “Yeah- I...” You paused and took in a shaky breath, realizing that you sputtered out one word too much, “I..I.. uh...”

Arthur seemed hooked on every word. He didn’t know how, or what gave him the courage to stare up at you like a hawk, and pull each word from you, even if it’d be like pulling teeth, “You?” He insisted.

Your drunken heart flung wildly up your throat, “I-I!” You felt your fingers start to twitch and shake, “I... I like- I like you! Spending time! I... I like spending time with you...”

“Mhm.. Mh.. Haha!” He was laughing? “Ha!” Why was he laughing? You looked up from the ground and to Arthur’s face. He let go of your wrists and ran his own hands over his face, brushing his hair away and into place, “Ha, ha! I... can’t believe I’m glad to hear that.”

“You are?” What?

“Yeah,” He looked up at you with a new look on his face, “You like me?” He asked, just to doublecheck he heard right. When you quietly nodded your head, he let out another chuckle, “Perfect.”

“Wh-why?”

“Because,” He grabbed your hand, and you noticed something change not just in his voice, but in his whole character. Arthur no longer had any scattered nerves or butterflies clogging his throat. He was so worried about chasing you away, that he never got the chance to see that maybe you wanted to be chased. So, with a newfound sense of confidence, Arthur tugged you by your hand, inching you closer to him, “I can do this.”

It only took a second for him to pull you to his level, meet your gaze, bring a hand to your cheek, and grazing his fingers to brush loose locks behind your ear. There was a second there were you both shared a glance, only inches from each other. But Arthur quickly closed that distance, kissing you swiftly, smoothly, and with just enough forces to take your breath away.

You couldn’t lie, this day couldn't get any better. At several points today you wished and hoped and prayed that you’d just get a little bit closer to Arthur, whether that be as friends or something more.

His kisses tasted like gin, and so did yours. Arthur wanted this more than he’d ever admitted. And half of his brain told him that he was only going to end up hurt, but the other half told him you’d never do that to him.

When he pulled away you leaned in to steal one more little kiss, no matter how drunk they were. You just couldn’t get enough. You waited since the day you met him to get those kisses. You deserved every single one you wanted.

Arthur chuckled though while you sat down beside him on the rock. He never let go of your hand, and you didn’t want him to. Arthur’s little chuckles ended as he leaned into you, bumping his shoulder into yours and quietly saying, “I like you too.”

In that second you felt like punching him, but instead, you leaned onto him and rested your head on his shoulder, “Why’d it take you so long to say it then?” You teased.

Caught on the spot, Arthur let outa stutter and shrugged, “I- I’m... I don’t know,” He tried to brush it off, “I’m... Shy.”

You laughed at that, giggles bubbling from your chest, “Psht! Haha! Yeah!” He made a face and you rushed out some more words, “That’s cute though!” He didn’t seem to like that either, “I mean- stoic and handsome.”

You held onto his head, enjoying the firm and rough grip he had on you. The gin was still heavy in your blood, making your eyes tried, cheeks flushed and yawns never stopping. You made yourself comfortable against Arthur’s shoulder.

“Get some sleep,” Arthur told you, “I’ll keep watch,”

A smile crawled onto your face. A yawn escaped your lips and you muttered out, “My knight in shining armor.”

Arthur chuckled at that and watched you drift away. He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, his mind, even his heart. If he knew it’d be this easy to win you over, he would have done it a long time ago.

#anonymous #anon #red dead #rdr #red dead 2 #rdr 2 #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur x reader #arthur morgan/ you #arthur mogan/ reader #x reader #reader insert #arthur mogan #you #Van Der Linde Gang #missbliss writes

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duhragonball · 5 years

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Dragon Ball Z 036

It’s the Namek Saga! I have mixed feelings about this arc, and I’ll try to explain them.

So I got into DBZ when it first aired on Toonami in the fall of 1998. I don’t recall exactly how it was aired, but I’m pretty sure they showed four or five episodes a week, every week, until they got to the Goku/Recoome fight, and then they would start over. Somewhere along the way they aired Movies 1, 2, and 3.

Now I was just a casual viewer in those days, so I wasn’t going out of my way to watch them in order. I didn’t exactly like the show much; I just watched it because it was on, and I was sort of curious about what would happen. The Saiyans arc impressed me because it did a good job buildng suspense. But you could skip a few episodes and not really miss much. There were plenty of recaps, and not that much happened in any single episode.

The Namek Saga had some trouble following this formula, though. Once the heroes got to Namek, it was hard to really measure any sort of progress being made. The overriding strategy was to stay in one piece until Goku arrived to even the odds, except the supporting cast was pretty threadbare by this point. They couldn’t exactly kill anyone off in the Namek Saga, because they had killed so many guys off in the Saiyans arc, and if you took out any more there wouldn’t be anyone left to tell the story with. So it felt to me like much of the arc was just the gang marking time until Goku showed up.

And this wouldn’t have been so bad, except that whenever Goku finally did show up, he’d punch Recoome’s lights out and that would be it. Toonami would run out of episodes and start over with Episode 1. I remember at least once when I was kind of following more closely to see if they’d finally put some new eps in the rotation, and then... no such luck. Goku shows up, whoops the Ginyu Force, Bill Murray wakes up in the hotel room to “I Got You, Babe.”

I feel like this has colored my opinion of the arc. I was trying to remember exactly what I didn’t like about it, and my criticisms aren’t really all that valid. “It’s too long,” but it isn’t. It’s 32 episodes long, and that’s three episodes shorter than the Saiyans Saga. “There’s no big fights,” but there are. Vegeta vs. Zarbon is pretty cool, and Recoome smacking Team Three Star around is fun. “It’s unsatisfying,” but not really. Frieza gets extremely pissed as the arc wears on, and Goku shutting down the Ginyus and Vegeta at the same time is awesome.

For a time, I struggled with the rewatchability of DBZ. It was hard to get invested in older episodes, because for a while it felt like the battles were pointless back when no one knew how to turn Super Saiyan. Eventually I got over this and learned to appreciate the show beyond the novelty of a first-time viewer, and I think that’s helped me respect the Namek stuff more. In particular, when I read the manga version, I found it much brisker than the anime. Maybe it sounds weird to say this, but for me, knowing which parts are filler helps me appreciate the filler more.

So I’m looking forward to analyzing this arc in greater depth, and forming a more nuanced opinion of it. It’ll probably never be one of my favorites, but I bet I’ll come away with a greater appreciation of it.

First off, we gotta wrap up the loose ends of the Saiyans arc. Krillin just let Vegeta leave the planet, because Goku asked really nicely. Yajirobe doesn’t understand that, so he calls Krillin an idiot. Why didn’t Yajirobe finish Vegeta off? He took him down with his sword, and then he stood there like a jerk and gloated instead of cutting off his head.

Krillin picks up naked baby Gohan and brings him over to half-naked ER patient Goku, but then an airship arrives, and out pops Chi-Chi.

She leaps over Goku’s body and grabs Gohan out of Krillin’s arms.

Fans give Chi-Chi a lot of crap for her behavior in this episode, and I’ll bet you a dollar that none of them have children of their own. Gohan’s five years old in this episode, and Chi-Chi hasn’t seen him since he was four. One day he just left and didn’t come back. Now she’s finally close enough to touch him and he’s all beat up and unconscious. What would you do?

You know what? Goku did have it hard, but he’s a grown-ass man. He’s not entitled to Chi-Chi’s attention right now, but Gohan is. I think Goku knows that better than anyone in this episode, which is why you never see him complain about being ignored.

Bulma’s pretty upset about all of their dead friends, particularly Yamcha, because she used to be sweet on him, and particularly Kami and Piccolo, whose deaths mean that they can’t use the Dragon Balls to wish Yamcha back to life. She bawls out Yajirobe for not doing more during the fight. She’s got a point, although Yajirobe probably did more good by holding back and picking his spots. If Yamcha had shown the same level of caution, well...

I sort of get Yajirobe’s attitude here. Everyone talks to him like he’s a piece of shit, and when he musters up the courage to be somewhat responsible, everyone still talks to him like he’s a piece of shit. And then they wonder why he doesn’t help out more often. He can’t win.

The gang loads Goku into the aircraft and then they head back to the first battlefield so they can collect the corpses of their friends. It’s a pretty somber ride, until Krillin finally explains his theory that they might be able to wish their friends back to life after all.

This is a pretty cool moment right here. There was a time when Master Roshi was happy to be surpassed by so many young and talented martial artists. Now, they’ve all been killed. Goku and Krillin were wished back, but the Dragon Balls no longer work, so that’s it. The next time Goku and Krillin die, they’ll be gone for good, and Vegeta’s up in space somewhere planning to make that happen very soon. But Master Roshi lives on, and he’s completely powerless to do anything about these new enemies.

For some reason, I forgot about all these scenes of Yamcha, Tien, and Piccolo being loaded into capsule coffins. Of course, the Ocean Dub never would have shown this part, because Saban had the script edited so that they were all blasted “into another dimension”. Showing their dead bodies would have undermined that already flimsy concept. Still, for some reason I remembered Krillin informing Roshi that they would find no remains for Chiaotzu, on account of him blowing himself up.

Bulma starts reminiscing about all the good times she had with Yamcha. That gets kind of awkward, because she spent most of their relationship being mad at him. This one flashback of them walking together never actually appeared before. Judging from Bulma’s Raditz-Era clothes, I’d say this would have been right before she got mad at him before they parted ways between Dragon Ball and DBZ.

I prefer to remember Yamcha this way, standing proud on his own, rocking the Turtle Hermit dogi, got the long hair flowing down his back, giving the audience a low-key but heartfelt thumbs up. Vaya con Dios, Yamcha.

Gohan wakes up and Chi-Chi mothers him the way only a mother can.

He looks in the back and finds his dad, badly hurt but still smiling. Look how happy the li’l guy is. It was a tough year, but he made it all the way through, and now he’s got his parents back.

Yajirobe tries to give Chi-Chi shit for ignoring her husband in favor of her son. First of all, fuck you, Yajirobe. Like you’ve got any business telling anyone how to act in public. You spend most of this episode picking your nose in the background while the others talk. Second of all, Chi-Chi knows her husband had the time of his life almost getting killed today. Gohan’s the one who needs her right now, whether anyone will admit that or not.

Yajirobe asks Goku if he can hit her. Yeah, go for it, Yajirobe. Make a move, I fucking dare you. I take back what I said before, Yajirobe sucks.

Anyway, Krillin lays out his big idea. When the Saiyans first saw Piccolo, they recognized him as a Namekian, an alien from the planet Namek, and Vegeta said that the Dragon Balls must have been a product of Namekian magic. During the battle, Vegeta abandoned the plan of using Earth’s Dragon Balls, in favor of simply going straight to Namek and finding more powerful Dragon Balls there. Krillin thinks he must have been on to something. If Piccolo and Kami were originally from Namek, then it stands to reason that there’s Dragon Balls there that still work. All they have to do is go there and find them, and they can wish their dead back to life.

The problem is that no one even knows where the planet would be, but Goku contacts King Kai and asks him, and he knows all sorts of things about it. After praising Goku and the others for their efforts, he looks up its coordinates...

... and he gives some background on the planet’s recent history. He had believed that a natural disaster wiped out the entire population of Namek in the past...

... but he can sense fewer than 100 still living on the planet today, so the severe weather didn’t kill them all.

While they talk this all out, the gang begins to realize that the Namekian who split into Kami and Piccolo must have been a refugee, sent to Earth to escape the natural disaster on Planet Namek. For whatever reason, no one ever came to get him after the crisis abated. King Kai assures them that the Namekians are a gentle people, not like Piccolo at all.

On the contrary, Piccolo’s evil was probably born from the corrupting influence of Earthlings, so who’s the real Demon King, I ask you?

While they all discuss this, Bulma crunches some numbers and determines that Namek is simply too distant to reach by spacecraft. The fastest ship Capsule Corp. has would take 4339.25 years to make the trip, and that’s just one way.

You know, I remember Bulma being pretty snotty about this in the Ocean Dub, almost like she was glad to burst everyone’s bubble. I can imagine an alternate universe where “4339 years and three months” would have become the big meme instead of “Over 9000.” Ah well.

But Krillin’s got a solution in mind. He saw Vegeta leave in his spaceship, but it was clearly a one-seater. In the dub, he points out that there’d be no way that Nappa guy could have fit in there with him, so I just want to pass along that mental image. Anyway, the point is that Nappa must have come to Earth in his own ship, which must still be lying around somewhere. And Krillin stole Vegeta’s keyfob when he left, so he’s pretty sure they can use it to recover Nappa’s ship. From there, Bulma and her dad can reverse engineer the thing and it can make the trip in a much shorter time.

And now Bulma’s sold. I like that about her. A minute ago, it was impossible, not because Bulma’s a pessimist, but because she can only work with the technology available to her. Hand her an alien spaceship with a faster-than-light engine, and she completely changes her tune. She’s so scary good with gadgets that reverse-engineering alien tech is nothing to her.

Everyone laughs.

THEN THEY POINT.

Then they laugh again.

Goku tried to point too, but his arm has an owie.

#dragon ball #2019dbliveblog #goku #chi chi #gohan #krillin #master roshi #korin #yajirobe #yamcha #kami #piccolo #king kai #namek saga

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nascentflash · 5 years

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never-ending survey: j’lihmu

RULES: Repost, do not reblog. Tag 10 blogs!

tagged by:@violet-warder (thank you so much!)

tagging: honestly? anyone that wants to do it! (i don’t know who actually got tagged already) you are more than welcomed to tag me :>

BASICS.

FULL NAME : J’lihmu Rhatni

NICKNAME : Crimson, Li

AGE : 25

BIRTHDAY : 19th Sun of the Third Astral Moon (5/19)

ETHNIC GROUP : Miqo’te (Seeker of the Sun)/ Elezen (Wildwood)

NATIONALITY : Ul’Dahn

LANGUAGE / S : Common, a hit of Hingan/Doman (broken)

SEXUAL ORIENTATION : Demisexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION : Panromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS : Taken (Single in some AUs)

HOME TOWN / AREA : Abalathia’s Spine/Sky Frost

CURRENT HOME : The Lavender Beds — a small home she bought herself.

PROFESSION : Hunter, mercenary, the good ol’ Warrior of Light resume being handed out.

PHYSICAL.

HAIR : Naturally red with orange highlights.

EYES : A bright green.

FACE : Resting bitch face syndrome, always /annoyed, slightly round.

LIPS :Full, tinted with the same color as her eye paint.

COMPLEXION : Slightly tanned.

BLEMISHES :None.

SCARS : Littered across her body, reminder of the victories — or losses — she always came out alive.

TATTOOS : Tattoos litter her form, it is part of her tribe back home. Her arms are covered, legs, and back.

HEIGHT : 5′2″.

WEIGHT : 143lbs.

BUILD : Athletic.

FEATURES : Large, somewhat almond shaped eyes, small, slightly refined nose, both ears pierced and longer than the normal miqo’te.

ALLERGIES : None.

USUAL HAIR STYLE : When long — messy, unkempt until told otherwise. A large braid would encompass a portion of her hair, and the other wild and free. Sometimes in a large, messy bun when she’s working, or doing anything out of battle. Short — has now a tendency to keep it up to date with oils and minerals, making sure her hair is looking better than before. She would not have it in a braid, with the exception of one on her side or most of her hair swept away from her face.

USUAL FACE LOOK : Thick painted eye-makeup, whether blue (for her tribe) or red (for herself), lips tinted red. Besides that, she has no other make up on her whatsoever. It is rare to see her without her tribal paint unless she’s at home, relaxing.

USUAL CLOTHING : Leather, furs/coats, jewelry made from bones of bears long dead from her home. However, she adapts and changes depending where she is. Example; in Kugane, she is seen wearing more of their traditional outfits in some instances, but will always opt for the good ol’ tank top and shorts if she can get away with it. Yes, even under the kimono.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR / S : Failure (more so towards her WoL than anything else), falling to her Inner Beast, death— in a sense.

ASPIRATION / S : To achieve greatness and be worthy of remembrance outside the confines of her tribe. To eventually help lead a line of new, young warriors from her tribe.

POSITIVE TRAITS : Confident, resourceful, passionate, outspoken.

NEGATIVE TRAITS : Short-tempered, impatient, competitive, ruthless.

MBTI : ESTP-A/ESTP-T

ZODIAC : Azeyma (?T-Taurus?)

TEMPERAMENT : Choleric.

SOUL TYPE / S : Warrior.

ANIMALS : Bear.

VICE HABIT / S : Isolation, punching the wall a couple of times until her knuckles bleed in anger, running head on in battle and not tending to her wounds.

FAITH : Questionable, leaning on no beliefs.

GHOSTS ? : Yes.

AFTERLIFE ? : Believer.

REINCARNATION ? : Believer.

ALIENS ? : ????

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT : The only time she gave a shit is when things started going down in Ishgard, just to be spiteful to Ul’Dah later honestly. Would care for her tribes political shenanigans, but thats about it.

EDUCATION LEVEL : Home-schooled in a sense. Her father and the elders of the village taught her all she knows to a point.

FAMILY.

FATHER : Close.

MOTHERS : Estranged, trying her best tm.

SIBLINGS : ...Complicated (Half-siblings are a handful)

EXTENDED FAMILY : Many, but she does not know her mother’s side, only her father’s.

NAME MEANING / S : Her name has no meaning, but, if you asked her father—J’zahlu would say it reminded him of the sun.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION ? : No..?

FAVORITES.

BOOK : Intricate pages describing worlds she will never know.

DEITY : Azeyma.

HOLIDAY : Starlight Celebration.

MONTH : October.

SEASON : Autumn.

PLACE : Mountaintops with caves, deep within, a system of caves that lead you to the deepest part of home.

WEATHER : Sunny and cloudy days.

SOUND / S: The sound of metal clashing unto one another, the sound of rain hitting the earth.

SCENT / S : Damp caverns, burnt fur, perfumes.

TASTE / S : Sweets, orange, blood.

FEEL / S : Fur, cold floor, rough skin, broken wood.

ANIMAL / S : Bears, hunting hawks, paissa — who is now her son, don’t @ me

NUMBER : 18.

COLORS : Vermilion, black, gold, aquamarine, orange.

EXTRA.

TALENTS : Existing, hunting, beating people at bars, talking shit about powerful people because she knows she can’t be killed, headbutting is her specialty.

BAD AT : Loss, dancing, drinking — she will fall asleep or drunk fight, who knows.

TURN ONS : Men — large hands, broad build, scars, messy hair, independent. Women — someone who can kick ass, makes her laugh, independent.

TURN OFFS : Attention-seekers, arrogance, stupidity, carelessness — basically what she does what else is new.

HOBBIES :Hunting, people watching, trying to be a good blacksmith, mining — it’s therapeutic.

TROPES : Green-Eyed Redhead, Fiery Redhead, An Axe to Grind [idk a lot im baby]

QUOTES : “If one more noble attempts to be snotty with me, he’s about to get his ass ripped open by my axe.”

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?

—The Lost Crucible, it would be filmed like a documentary, so to speak, switching from third POV [narrator] to first POV [dumb catgirl] that would be finding out about her tribe, and the trial young warriors go through.

Q2 : What would their soundtrack/score sound like?

— Songs that remind you of a time when you’re one in nature; drums that give you that itch to move and dance to the beat, to appease the old and new gods, whatever you believe in. It would be of her home — where the village barely touches the heavens itself.

Q3 : Why did you start writing this character?

— I did it in a way to sort of make a new oc from an old oc, so to speak. The OG version, as you could call it, is vastly different and I kept making lots of jokes with her when I name changed and eventually she just started to slowly build up.

Q4 : What first attracted you to this character?

— It’s a mixture of self insert, so finding a way to incorporate stuff into my own character is what sort of ... made her my lovable daughter. She’s not all self-insert, her attitude, her anger, her sorrow, her accomplishments and failures and imagines on how she would deal with X and Y is just absolutely fascinating for me and having a fierce miqo’te hailing from the snowy mountain tops of Abalathia’s Spine who’s tiny with a big axe is my aesthetic okay.

Q5 : Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse.

— Her desire to keep things quiet until the last second—mostly when it’s about her. Anything related to her life, her health, her problems, she’d rather deal with them alone. Even if there’s been major character improvement, there are some things she does not feel comfortable sharing, or letting people in. Her desire for more power so she can finally be at peace.

Q6 : What do you have in common with your muse?

— We are both stubborn bitches. However, she deals with things far better than I ever could, as I am baby. Similar in arrogance, and in anger — to a point.

Q7 : How does your muse feel about you?

— She’d fucking kick my ass. I think she would appreciate me, and not be as bully as with others — not because I am her mun, but more so as I think we’d clash a lot but get along quite well, too.

Q8 : What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with ?

— I, unfortunately haven’t had a lot of interactions with Li trying to be nice, or fight somebody but— people like her, who are broken yet continue on. Who carry a mantle too big to carry and they do it anyways. Fighters that only know how to fight, when she eventually wants peace, but that will never leave her soul. People so nice that it makes her want to protect them; to view the world the way they see it. Warriors, even if they are not from the same village, are all brethren to one another and the desire to meet and see how they live out their lives — just a handful of stuff in my head I’d like to see.

That and a bar fight, she really is the one who would start a bar fight drunk or angry okay. Also nobles. She sort of hates them cause of her mom but then eventually doesn’t and it’s awkward asf.

Q9 : What gives you inspiration to write your muse ?

—Vikings, Game of Thrones aesthetics of the Dothraki tribe, anything tribal honestly. The existential dread that is Nier: Automata, some Fire Emblem aesthetics, a lot of stuff honestly.

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete ?

— I STARTED YESTERDAY. I finished late today cause my last two braincells hate everything

#long post #thanks for the tag!#that took way longer than it should've but i am dumb #c; J'Lihmu Rhatni #answered prompt;

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snakeassembly · 6 years

Text

I Loved and I Loathed Pt.1 BodyPainter! Taehyung x Reader (Angst/Drama)

Summary: You meet Taehyung, a body painter that makes you question everything that you’ve ever believed in. He wants to make you his, but there’s a problem. You’re already engaged.

Author's Note: I am still alive. This story will have parts. I’m sorry that it took me so long to upload only for me to come up with this trash. Enjoy lovelies!

Warnings: cursing, nudity, possible smut in the future (?)

Word Count: 5,221

Your feet were cemented to the dirty concrete floor and you could tell that the bodyguard's patience was wearing thin. However, a quick glance at your face made him hold his tongue from commenting how you were holding up the line. Not that you noticed or cared.

The bright blue neon lights across the front of the grimy building taunted you as your feet shuffled from side to side. You were sure that your once smooth and glossy lips were now chapped and swollen from you constantly biting it. A few curses and yells were heard from behind you, but you paid it no mind. Your focus was solely on the flickering sign, Texture.

You attempted with great difficulty to not roll your eyes at the slightly cheesy name.

However, the sign intimidated you greatly and you were starting to regret taking the card from Jungkook and coming here in the first place. You stuck out like a sore thumb by the way you dressed. Everyone was dressed in t-shirts and sweatpants, clothes that didn't seem appropriate for a place that mimicked the vibe of a nightclub. You were perplexed at their style. A group of girls who were standing in line eyed you up and down before letting out a snotty scoff.

Screw this, I'm leaving.

You turned on your designer's heels and began making your way back to your car where your driver was waiting for you. However, before you could even take 3 steps, a hand shot out from your peripheral vision and tightly grasped your shoulders.

"Annnnd where do you think you're going?" You immediately tensed at the unwelcomed physical contact, but you quickly relaxed after you heard the voice.

"Home," you deadpanned.

You shrugged his hand off of your left shoulder, making the purse that was hanging to fall off. Before you could bend down to reach your bag, your friend quickly swiped it up for you. You turned around and faced the handsome man, who was looking at you with a bewildered expression.

"But you just got here?"

"I know," you continued monotonously. You tried to side step him, but all he did was mimicked your steps, blocking your way.

"Don't be like that; you haven't been out in so long. Ever since you got engaged, you haven’t been hanging out with me anymore," Jungkook whined.

You ignored the mention of your engagement.

"It's night time though," You smirked at him while crossing your arms together. Jungkook pinched the bridge of his high nose in frustration.

"You have no idea how hard it is for me to not hit you right now."

"Hey!" you protested. Without any regard to your wishes, Jungkook steered you towards the entrance of the building and the bodyguard lets both of you guys in without a second glance. Along the way, you were chastising him about how he shouldn't threaten a woman. Jungkook carried your purse with him, effectively preventing you from leaving.

"Oh you're a female?" He glanced towards your chest, "I couldn’t tell."

Your mouth dropped in offense; your hands came up to cross across your chest. But before you could get a chance to defend your acceptable size, you were stopped short when you noticed the scene that you were in.

The interior of the building was a stark contrast to outside. It was not the club vibe that you were expecting. Despite the exterior building being dingy and run-down, inside was almost as luxurious as the finest spas that you've been to. The lights were red-toned, giving off a sensual mood that was starting to affect you. Around the room, there were massage tables, set up with numerous people already on them. But, they weren't getting massages, they were getting painted on.

However, much to your dismay, too many people were walking around. But, that wasn't what was bothering you. It was because of their clothes, or lack thereof.

People were naked.

Even though silk robes were given out to the customers, it was optional. It seemed like most of them chose to go all natural.

You felt your cheeks warm up, not like Jungkook could tell due to the red lights, and you held up a hand against the side of your face to block the sights of the countless genitals. With wide eyes, you turned to look at Jungkook. He was too busy checking out the girls that were walking past to notice your discomfort.

"Jungkook?" you squeaked out. He managed to tear his eyes away from a dark-haired chick to look at you.

“Oh, I forgot how much of a prude you were,” he teased. His face got closer to yours, making you more uncomfortable. You roughly shoved his face away with two perfectly French-tip manicured fingers.

“Why in the hell did you bring me to this place?” You hissed.

“It’s art, ___.” Jungkook sighed as he rubbed his forehead to soothe the pain.

You quirked an eyebrow in response, “What is?” Sure there was painting involved, but the fact that it had to be so racy, so provoking, artistic was the last word you would describe this ordeal.

“The people,” he gestured to his surroundings, “they’re all art. They’re no longer empty canvases. They’re completed works now.”

Your eyes quickly scanned around the place. He was right. The artwork that was displayed on a person’s body part was detailed and meticulously done. The artists were so skilled that you could even make out the difficult techniques that were used under the terrible lighting.

Your eyes zeroed in on a girl who was currently getting worked on by a guy, who you could only see the back of his head. From where you stood, you could only slightly make out the white tiger that was painted across her back with hibiscus flowers framing its face. It seemed like she was enjoying what the guy was doing to her based on the sounds that were emitting from her mouth, even though he was not touching her in any kind of sexual way.

He gently patted her shoulder to signal that he was finished. The red headed girl stretched out like a cat and draped her silk robe over one of her arms. She held out a hand towards the guy and batted her fake eyelashes. He gently took her hand before leaning down to kiss it. A giggle escaped from her.

You slightly cringed at the high pitched sound. It rang loud and clear despite you being half way across the room.

You finally got a good look at the guy when he turned around and immediately locked eyes with yours.

Oh come on, now that’s unfair.

God was too nice when he created this guy because he was fucking mesmerizing. Even with his shaggy bangs hanging close to his eyes, the intensity that radiated off of them sent shivers down your spine.

Jungkook raised a hand, “Taehyung!”

The guy finally tore his gaze away from you and glanced at Jungkook. A soft smile curled up on his face and he, with the red bombshell, approached you guys. As he got closer, you could make out the shiny lip ring that graced his lips.

Just when I thought he couldn’t get anymore attractive.

The man enthusiastically greeted Jungkook as they both exchange a warm embrace. You were trying very hard not to stare at the girl’s nude body. Jungkook, on the other hand, remained unfazed by the view.

“Texture’s number 1 customer! It’s so good to see you!” His deep and sultry voice placed you under a trance, “You haven’t been coming around lately. What is up with that man?”

Jungkook sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Ahh well, Father’s been on my ass about the company. He’s retiring soon and he wants to make sure he’s going to leave it in good hands.”

Taehyung dismissively waved away Jungkook’s excuse.

“You know I don’t get your corporate world. That’s just rich people’s problem.”

Jungkook shrugged in response. You haven’t said a word since the conversation started. Instead, you were too busy admiring Taehyung’s appearance. Dressed in ripped black jeans, and a white Gucci t-shirt tucked in, he was oozing with sex appeal. His aura was striking, but not to the point where it was overpowering. It was more subtle. However, he made sure that he was noticed.

“I see you have a kitten with you,” Taehyung remarked.

“I can say the same thing about you,” Jungkook nodded in greeting to Taehyung’s companion.

He surveyed you up and down, “A spoiled princess?” Your mouth parted in shock at the rude comment.

“What does that make you? The ugly frog?” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, if that means I can get a kiss from the princess,” he winked in your direction. However, he winced as the red head dig her nails into his arms, not fond of the flirty comment.

Jungkook smirked at his friend’s grimace , “Ooh she’s feisty.”

“You should see how she is in bed.” You almost gagged.

“Gross,” you softly muttered. Unbeknownst to you, Taehyung heard the remark.

“Baby,” the girl whined, “I want to leave.”

“I would love to, but I have a few more clients left before I can leave,” Taehyung looked down at the girl. She pouted and crinkled her eyebrows in disappointment.

At this moment, Taehyung would usually just shoo the girl away. But, he was feeling a bit obnoxious today and wanted to grate on your nerves just for his amusement.

“However,” Taehyung purred, “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow night.”Satisfied with his answer, the woman strutted away. You couldn’t help but be slightly envious of her ass. Taehyung inwardly smirked when you rolled your eyes.

Jungkook snapped his fingers, “That reminds me, do you think you can add another one to your list?”

Taehyung quirked an eyebrow, “For you?”

“Nah,” Jungkook drawled. He jutted a finger in your direction.

“For her.”

“For ME?”

“For HER?”

Your head and Taehyung’s snapped to each other after realizing you guys spoke at the same time.

“I don’t want him.” You crossed your arms and blew a stray strand of hair out of your eyes.

“You don’t seem to be an ideal customer either princess.”

“You guys don’t really have a choice since I’ll be the one paying,” Jungkook rolled his eyes at your childish antics, “How can you guys hate each other already?”

“It’s certainly not IMPOSSIBLE,” Taehyung scoffed.

“Plus,” he went to stand next to Taehyung before flinging an arm around his shoulders, “you don’t even know her name.”

Taehyung glanced at you, who was awkwardly shifting your weight between each foot. You clearly don’t belong here; anyone could tell. This wasn’t your scene. You looked like you should be at a fancy restaurant, having people at your beck and call. The last thing he needed was an entitled customer to ruin his day.

With an exasperated sigh, he reluctantly agreed. He signaled you to follow him, but before you guys could get any far, Taehyung was stopped by Jungkook.

“Hey, do you think the beauty who worked on me last time is available?” Jungkook grinned.

Taehyung scanned the open area before spotting the girl Jungkook requested for. His whistle caught her attention and she looked up in confusion before spotting Jungkook. She immediately smirked and nodded him over. He threw your purse at you without any regard and you clumsily caught it. Jungkook advanced towards her before turning around to wink at you guys before leaving the both of you alone.

You scoffed at his actions and you turn towards Taehyung, who was surprisingly nowhere to be found.

What an asshole.

You scanned the crowd, making sure to take a double look at the guys who had an undercut. You finally spot Taehyung leaning against the staircase that lead towards downstairs. He smirked at you before raising a finger to beckon you towards him.

“It would be nice if you give me a heads up next time before you disappear,” you snapped.

“Last time I recalled, you’re not my mother,” he retorted, “but then again I was never good at listening to her either.”

He started making his way down the stairs and through the poorly lit hallway. You struggled to catch up to him and by his increasing pace, he had no intention of slowing down to accommodate you either.

With a few more twists and turns and instances where you almost tripped, the both of you finally arrived at the destination.

It was a door. That was it. No designs, no colors, no posters, none at all. It was just plain and…empty. It was a stark contrast to the neighboring doors that were eccentric with bold colors or were littered with posters.

A sense of loneliness settled within your chest and you were confused on why it ignited such a feeling.

“That’s unexpected,” you softly uttered.

Taehyung glanced at you over his shoulder, “What is?”

“How transparent humans really are.” Before he got a chance to probe further into your answer, you brushed past him and into the room.

The lights had a blue tint to it and unlike the massage tables outside, there was a bed in the center. To the left was a small sink and across the bed was a small sofa where a pile of paint bottles were carelessly about.

He gestured you towards the bed, but you switched directions and sat on the sofa instead. It didn’t feel right for you to be on the bed. It felt intimate and you barely knew the guy standing in front of you.

Taehyung rolled his eyes at your action. In his head, he made another note about how highly you must think about yourself when compared to him and he was put off.

“Why are you so defensive?”

You snapped your head up, “What?”

“Your walls are up so high that I can barely make out the top of your head.”

“Well, grab a ladder,” you retorted.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch you know?”

You leaned back against the sofa and crossed your arms in an arrogant manner, “I know.”

Taehyung was about to open his mouth and complain about how he’s never met someone with such a horrible attitude. He was 2 seconds away from kicking you out and telling Jungkook to shove the money up his ass.

However, the playful glint in your eyes made the words in his throat die. Seems like the princess had a sense of humor after all.

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

Without replying, Taehyung snatched a couple of paint bottles from the sofa and grabbed a few brushes from the cabinet above the sink.

Two could play at the game he thought.

With his leg, he rolled a steel stool and settled in front of you. Your thighs were in between his legs and he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. You took a sharp inhale at the unexpected invasion of space.

“Guess whose tongue the cat have now?”

“Is this really necessary?” Your meekly said. You lowered your head, avoiding eye contact.

Taehyung narrowed his eyes before pushing himself a few feet away. “Is that better?”

“Lots.” Your airway seemed to finally open up and you can feel the blood leaving your cheeks.

He started making wild, painting motions in the air. “And how exactly am I going to paint like this, genius??”

You stared at him, “Oh.”

He returned back to his original position and you swear that he moved even closer to you than before.

Taehyung glanced at your finger that was anxiously tapping on the sofa. He inwardly smirked at your discomfort and felt proud of being able to affect you so much.

“What do you want and where do you want it?”

A puzzled expression etched on your face.

Taehyung made a motion over your body, “The picture, what do you have in mind?”

“I haven’t thought about that…” you rubbed the back of your neck in embarrassment. You stuck out your hand.

Taehyung dumbly stared at it, unsure of what you want him to do before slowly giving you a high five.

You giggled, “No, I mean I want it on my hand.”

Taehyung mentally facepalmed at his own stupidity before trying to save face.

“Oh, I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t,” you teased.

“Yes I—,” a hand covered his mouth.

“Are you going to work on me or not?” You raise an eyebrow in challenge.

You feel something wet swiped across your hand and you flinched back in disgust. He licked you.

“I can work on you in other ways,” he winked. You roughly rubbed your hand on your jeans, trying to ignore the slight pleasant shivers that ran up your spine that his tongue caused.

He grabbed your other hand without permission and firmly grasped it.

How can someone’s hand be this tiny he wondered. His own hand practically engulfed yours.

Not wanting to stay longer than he had to, he decided to put you out of your (and his) misery and made the decision for you.

“Let me surprise you.” Taehyung softly muttered.

“Huh?”

“I’ll paint whatever I want,” he softly smiled at you. You glared at him in suspicion.

“Just trust me and close your eyes.”

What the hell is he on?

Giving him the benefit of the doubt, you did what he asked of you. Taehyung couldn’t help but take the opportunity to study you. You looked so peaceful. Your dark eyebrows were no longer furrowed and your lips weren’t pursed anymore.

Taehyung jerked in surprise when one of your eyes opened and your brown orb curiously peeked from under your long eyelashes.

“Holy shit, don’t do that!” He grasped his chest.

“You were taking too long to start!” You exclaimed.

One of his fingers came up to fold your lid closed. He shushed you. Before long you felt the cool paint on your left hand, but instead of focusing on the brush strokes, you were paying attention to how gentle he was.

Taehyung took notice of how your ring finger was empty. He wondered about what kind of boyfriend you would have. Would the guy be from a well-off family who wear suits and attend luxurious parties with you and take you out on shopping sprees?

Surprisingly, would the guy be normal with a regular day job who showed his love through letters and have cozy nights in as dates?

Why was he interested anyways? It wasn’t like you were kind or as good looking as his red headed friend. He barely knew you. So why couldn’t he swallow the slight hope that gnawed at the back of his head at the thought of you possibly being single?

After half an hour of him working in comfortable silence, you started to become restless. Taehyung had to tug you forward a few times because you started to lean back.

You groaned. “Are you done yet? My back hurts.”

“It depends. Do you want it to look shitty or the best that it can be?” Taehyung hummed.

You let out a whine in response.

Taehyung bit on his lip ring to keep from laughing at your childish antics. You surprised him in many ways. Even though your first impression wasn’t great, he picked up on the subtle details that allowed him to understand you a bit more.

For instance, most if not all female customers do not hesitate to show off their skin in hopes of getting into his pants. It was normal for Taehyung to see a girl’s chest within thirty seconds of meeting her. Yet here he was painting on your hand and that felt more intimate than any other naked body he worked on.

“How did you end up here?” Taehyung questioned, reaching for the orange paint bottle and squirting it on the palette. “You seem too high end to come to a place like this for entertainment.”

“I didn’t really have a choice in the matter,” you grumbled with your eyes still closed, but Taehyung could see them roll behind your eyelids. “Jungkook threatened to buy my share of stocks if I didn’t come.”

“But that’s not the real reason why you came though because you could always just buy it back.” Taehyung pulled you forward again, this time with a bit more force.

“Well that’s the only reason I’m giving you.” Taehyung could feel your hand tense up in his, so he decided to drop the topic. He started drawing small circles with his thumb in the center of your hand in comfort.

An awkward silence settled between you two and you started to feel guilty for snapping at him when he was just curious.

Making up your mind, you took a deep breath. You didn’t want to give him a hard time anymore.

“I needed a change in scenery,” you confessed.

“I’m assuming that you weren’t expecting naked people as part of that scenery am I right?” He chuckled.

Even though all you could see was darkness, you could imagine his eyebrow quirking in amusement and his eyes crinkling in laughter.

Realizing that he wasn’t upset with you, you decided to let your guard down a little. Just a little bit.

“I needed a break from the stack of papers on my desk. Having people barging in and out of your office and demanding for papers to be signed can take a toll. Having family as business partners and employees can blur the line between what you want to do and what you should do. I had to fire one of my cousins a few days ago. Imagine how the Christmas dinner will turn out.” You dryly chuckled.

“I’m sure a side of icy glares will complement your hot dinner,” Taehyung offered.

“Just the thought of her makes me want to fly back to America.”

“You’re from America?” His ears peaked in interest. You felt the brush stopped its motions. Taehyung’s gaze shifted to your face and you fought to not squirm in your seat.

“I grew up there actually. I graduated high school, went to prom and everything. I came back three years ago.” Taehyung hummed to signal you to continue. You feel the brush move again.

“Why did you come back?” It must have been hard for you to leave your entire life and start all over again in a foreign country.

“I had some obligations that needed to be fulfilled as the daughter and assistant director of my Father’s company.”

“Oh? What kind of obligations?”

You thought back to your unexpected engagement. When your Father phoned you while you were in America and demanded for you to get on the next flight back to Korea, you assumed that there was a dire emergency with the company or that your brother’s gambling ways had finally caught up to him.

“Establishing business connections.”

Taehyung hummed in thought, “And how’s that going?”

“It’s a work in progress,” your lips twisted up in a grimace.

Satisfied with the knowledge that he gained from you, he decided that it was enough for today.

“What about you? How did you end up working here?”

Taehyung spluttered. He wasn’t expecting you to take interest in his life because you seemed to be the type that couldn’t care less. No customer tried to ask about his background; they were either preoccupied trying to bargain the price or shamelessly flirting with him.

“I needed to eat and I didn’t want to rob people or sell my body. Luckily the owner of Texture took me in and became my mentor. I know that the business is unconventional, but that’s what brings people in .” He paused. “Plus, I like to paint. Not everyone is born with a gold spoon in their mouth.”

Anger surged within you and you were about to defend your way of living before Taehyung spoke again, “It wasn’t a jab at you. But I’ve seen wealthy people waltz in here and many of them have been blessed with comfort and luxury at a young age. They reap the fruits of labor their parents sowed and some of them are just wastes of space with no contribution to the company.”

Hearing the description, Namjoon and Hoseok automatically popped in your head. “Yeah, I can see where you’re coming from,” you mumbled.

A comfortable silence settled between you guys once again.

You attempted to take a peek at what he was doing. You saw a blur of different shades of blue before you feel a slight pain on the tip of your nose. Taehyung had caught you red handed and took it upon himself to reprimand you by tapping your nose in warning.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, “Stop that.”

You didn’t know how much time has passed but you knew that your back was so tense that if you didn’t crack it in the next twenty seconds you’d go crazy.

Taehyung let out a deep exhale. His breath fanned across your face. It replaced the warmth that was no longer present on your hand. “We’re done!” He exclaimed.

You carefully opened your eyes, not wanting to be blinded by the lights even though it was a dark blue hue color. You studied your hand. It was a detailed drawing of a squid. Its slender body stretched to half of your forearm before reaching the back of your hand where you can make out the ocean background. Its legs were tangled together before spreading out to each of your fingertips. The squid seemed to float on your arm, like it was real due to the dark shadows that provided dimension.

Taehyung wiggled his fingers. “You can make it move too.”

“Holy shit, this is amazing!” Your mouth was opened and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets. This was better than any work you’ve ever seen in museums.

You could barely contain your excitement for you started to jump up and down in your seat. The creativity, the details, the labor that went into painting this work made you all the more appreciate Taehyung even more. Not only that, but it’s on YOUR body. Art is on your body and you get to walk around and show it off instead of carrying a large painting around.

“You’re fucking amazing, Taehyung!”

It was the first time you said his name since you arrived.

You beamed up at him, eyes filled with admiration.

The sight made his heart lurched to his throat and his stomach to drop like lead.

Later on that night, you couldn’t stop bragging about Taehyung’s art to Jungkook. You stood to the side, watching the girl paint on Jungkook’s hard abs. You wiggled your fingers in his face when he was laying down before abruptly attaching your hand to his face.

The “squid” attacked him.

“Oh my god. If you don’t stop being a brat I’m going to throw you into the ocean and you’ll have plenty of squids to be your friend.” Jungkook seethed.

Beside you, Taehyung couldn’t help but puff his chest out with pride at your countless praises. Taehyung glanced at you.

You were bouncing up and down from side to side on the soles of your feet like a little kid in a candy shop.

You were…kind of cute Taehyung mused.

A shrilling ring tone sliced the air and he noticed that it was coming from your phone. You fished out the device from your Chanel bag and looked to see who the caller was.

Immediately the bright grin on your face disappeared and your lips set in a thin line.

Who the fuck could that be? Taehyung wondered.

You hesitated on answering the call before taking a deep breath and pressing the green button.

“Hello?” You turned around and took several steps away from the group for some privacy. It was not going to be a pleasant conversation.

Jungkook followed Taehyung’s line of vision before remarking, “You’re staring.”

“No I’m not,” Taehyung denied.

“Yes you are.”

“No, I am not.”

“Yes, you are Taehyung,” the girl who was painting on Jungkook chimed in.

Jungkook high-fived her.

“Shut up, Chungha.” Taehyung snapped.

She raised her hands up in defense. There was a brief moment of silence.

Anxiety was overflowing from you like a broken sink. You were trying to keep your emotions in check, but by the way you roughly ran your fingers through your hair and how your jaw clenched and unclenched, a blind man could see how distressed you were.

“You’re still staring.”

Taehyung didn’t realize he was before tearing his gaze away from your figure. He glared at Jungkook but the younger man ignored it. Instead, he focused on flexing his abs.

Taehyung was too preoccupied with killing Jungkook in ten different ways in his mind that he didn’t notice you making your way back.

“Jungkook, we need to leave.” Taehyung slightly jumped. A hint of urgency was present in your tone and both of the guys caught it.

Without missing a beat, Jungkook jumped off the table and snatched his shirt that was hanging off from an extra stool. Luckily, Chungha was finished.

You didn’t wait for him to finish buttoning up his shirt before briskly making your way to the entrance. The naked bodies no longer intimidated you.

Jungkook followed behind, still struggling with his shirt. Taehyung fell into step with his friend.

“What’s going on?” He inquired. They were all having fun and relaxing until that phone call. Now, everything was in disarray. You were leaving too soon for his liking.

“Priorities,” Jungkook vaguely replied.

After crossing the entrance, you looked over your shoulder to briefly say goodbye to Taehyung.

“Thank you for everything,” you held up your painted hand and wriggled the fingers, making the squid move.

Your driver opened the door for you and you slid in. Jungkook patted the driver on the shoulder. “I’m going with her, make sure someone returns my car back to my house.” The driver bowed in response.

Before going in after you, Jungkook slipped Taehyung a wad of cash. “I’ll see you next week?”

“Yeah of course man,” Taehyung said, straining his head to peek inside the SUV to take a look at you.

“Will she be alright?”

Jungkook paused for a second, which Taehyung didn’t find comforting, “Yeah, she’ll be fine.”

“Hey Taehyung?”

Taehyung focused back to Jungkook. He quirked an eyebrow in confusion.

“Don’t.” Jungkook firmly said.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t fall for her.” With that sentence, Jungkook climbed into the car, leaving behind dust and the smell of gasoline.

Taehyung stood in the damp and cold street, dumbfounded at Jungkook’s warning. As he watch the car disappear around the corner, he came to a realization.

He never got your name.

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dragontag420 · 6 years

Text

Morning Light

a story featuring [Cassius].

A day in the life of Cassius, the clan’s secret keeper and resident sweetheart.

It’s... a bit long. You can read it under the cut or if it’s easier for you I have it posted on Ao3 here: [Link]

(Thank you @frxemriss for beta’ing!)

His name hadn’t always been Cassius. His aja used to whisper his first name in his ear as a baby, and in the back of his dreams he still hears it. He was given a new name when he was traded. The names of his people belonged with his people, and would stay there. It would always be his, but never again would it be spoken as his own.

It was the first secret he was ever given to keep.

He heard it now, as golden light swam in his vision, and a pair of arms reached down to cradle him. “Y’tvani ae, toom y’tvani ae.” a voice whispered in his ear. I love you, I love you baby.

Cassius groaned quietly, eyes fluttering, the gold light of his dream turning into the faint white-gold light of an early morning. Closing his eyes to the sun, he tried to run his tongue over his lips, but found it too thick to really move. Sighing a bit, he began his daily mental inventory.

Left leg, up, and down. Right leg, up, and down. Hmm, slight pull on the way up, he’d better watch that, don’t want to end up unexpectedly bed-bound.

Both feet, up, down. That was always a good sign. Nothing worse than a day on fused in place ankles, although he supposed he could always fly more to compensate.

He lifted both arms above his body and winced in pain. Yup, his left shoulder was still stuck alright. The Doc said that the muscle was fusing to the back shoulder blade, and it could be a while before it shifted back. He might even lose use of the arm entirely for a while; no one could ever really say what would happen until it did.

Cassius sat up slowly, letting out a tiny squeak and trying to keep weight off of the offending shoulder. Yawning and rubbing at his eyes, he felt for the glass of water next to the nest. It was empty, typical. Hopefully the bucket wasn’t. He really needed something to drink.

He rubbed his eyes again, and then stopped, blinking with his brow furrowed at his slender purple hands. What in the... He sighed, lips tightening as he inspected the rather severe angle his pinkie finger was sticking out at.

Well, he was going to have to be careful about that, no point in accidentally breaking a finger on top of everything else. Humming a little in resignment, he swung his legs out of bed, and began checking everything else.

Tapping his feet together a bit, Cassius looked down at his legs. The same dusky purple that covered his hands and wrapped his arms completely covered his feet as well, winding its way up his legs in what was once perfect symmetry. He lifted the thin nightie away from his chest, and checked the marks there too.

The large sweeping band of purple curled around his chest as well, all the way up his back, around his neck, and in one final strip across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. One of the last remaining marks of his original home. Not really a secret, not like his name was.

He ran a finger up the markings on his legs fondly. Bug worried sometimes that he was hurt by the fact he didn’t remember much about his people and was just refusing to admit it. He knew enough, though.

He’d been marked as a baby. They’d waited long enough to let him grow, to see if he smiled when held or if he cried through the night. Spirits had to be consulted, stars had to be taken into account, and careful thought had to be given to make sure they were the right marks.

Markings were a gift. Never to be a burden. Hence the careful consideration and reverence that went into the tradition.

His own were to show devotion. Devotion to Hea-ieana and patience before all else. They’d seen him as kind, even before he could walk, and had chosen to mark him for a path of gentle wisdom and fierce loyalty.

No, his markings were a gift. He loved them dearly. He wasn’t particularly religious anymore, but... he still harbored great respect for the figure who’s path of worship he had been sent down. Enough to follow basic teachings as best he could and to mumble what few prayers he could remember when appropriate.

After struggling with the nightie for a bit, Cassius gave up, and began to dress himself over it. Socks, easy. Undershorts, easy. Pants, easy. Sleeves? Hm, now that might be a problem. Stretching a little bit and listening to the small pops that resulted, he looked around, choosing to scoop up a discarded pair from the floor instead of rummaging through the drawers.

He padded awkwardly to the door, joints still stiff, and pulled it open a crack, squinting out into the dawning light. Was the sun almost to the second rib already? Damn, he was running late.

Sighing a little, Cassius pursed his lips and turned to softly walk back over to the bed. Running late meant no time for trying to dress himself... Help dressing meant waking Bug... Waking Bug meant, well.. She’d been so out of it last night that maybe he’d be able to escape quickly, without getting dragged back to bed more than once or twice.

He began shaking the large mound underneath the blankets on the bed until it began to move on it’s own, something underneath roused by the gentle rocking. A small rounded snout poked out from the blanket pile, blinked its rather large blue eyes at him blearily, and blew out a tiny puff of air through the nose in annoyance.

Cassius smiled a little, “Good morning to you too, Buggers.”

Bug yawned, tongue curling out over sharp pointy teeth, and flopped her head back down onto the pillow. “S’early..”

“I know, I’m sorry. It’s just...” He twisted the sleeves in his hand a little, pausing with displeasure at the nature of the request.

Bug lifted her head again, easily picking up on the odd pause and slightly distressed tone. “Need s’m help?”

Cassius nodded and offered the twisted fabric to her. Yawning again, she took it and started to unravel it. “M’kay... Turn ‘round.”

She slid the first sleeve over his half-fused arm first, trying not to jar it much, and then bringing the second sleeve up over his currently “good” arm. She nuzzled the back of Cassius’ neck slightly, bringing the back ties together to fasten them.

“Your arm still fused?” When Cassius nodded she continued, making small thoughtful squeaking noises, “Maybe sleeves aren’t th’ best idea then. Time to switch to some more bundled clothes?”

Cassius shook his head and turned around to let her tie the front strands of the sleeves. “No, it’s too warm out. Besides, the Doc says it’s shifting pretty quick, so it’ll change again soon.” He smiled at her and held up another fabric lump, “Shirt too?”

Bug blew a raspberry at him and took the shirt, shoving it over his head with mock-annoyance. “Why am I dressing you. I should be undressing you.”

Cassius’ head popped up from the neckhole, and he laughed softly at her pouting face. “I’m laaaaate. And you’re probably hungover.”

She threw up her arms, “All the more reason to strip down and stay in bed! Come on already!” She pulled at his arm insistently.

Cassius let himself be led back into the mass of warm blankets on the bed, giggling a little despite the desperate platitudes of time nagging at his head. Letting himself sink into the warmth of the mattress and soft kisses, his thoughts returned once more to his original home. Finally, head hazy and against the better judgement of every fiber of his being, he pulled himself from the strangling grip of his girlfriend.

Crawling out of the bed he quickly turned and began stacking as many pillows as he could reach on top of where he knew Bug was laying. The weight would distract her, causing her to stay put and fall back asleep almost immediately instead of re-surfacing to pull him back under.

“Bye, Buggie. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He reached to the hooks on the wall by the door, pulling his hood over his head and fastening the cord. Next he grabbed his bags, strapping the strand of pouches around his waist with practiced ease. The scroll case... would he need that? He didn’t think anything really was going on today but... perhaps it would be better to take it anyway, so he didn’t have to make the trip back if it turned out that he did need it.

Finally, he pulled the final piece from its place. His mask, special enough to be on its own hook, in the position closest to the door. Slipping it over his head quickly, he turned to look in the small hazy mirror nearby. He smiled at his reflection, watched the bone mask twitch a few times and then finally copy his smile. A perfect replica.

Sighing again he made a mental note to add “Visit DP” to his list of things to do today. It always took a moment to sync to his face when he put it on in the morning but... that was much longer than usual. It probably needed some sort of tune up.

Packed and ready, he headed out, being sure to close the door completely behind him so it didn’t blow open at any point. The sun had risen some and was now casting a warmer glow on the mostly sleeping village.

There were faint stirrings coming from different places as Cassius walked slowly towards Krin’mor. There was the backlit form of a mirror leaving the nearby watchtower at the end of the nightwatch shift, the sound of chickens rustling from beneath a nearby porch and beginning to scratch at the ground of Wolfmother’s garden, and what seemed to be the older Usbrod sisters (one waking up and one heading to bed, apparently).

Cassius sped up slightly, head back as he took in scent of morning air. If he was lucky he’d be there before Rah was, giving him some leeway in terms of how late he was. He thumbed his forehead out of habit, Iiten laney wa’y. Luck before all else.

Rah’s mate had come to visit recently, if Cassius remembered correctly, so hopefully he was still in the clan, and the snotty scribe would be somewhat occupied this morning.

Sometimes, when things lined up right, it would cause Chrysi to come into town as well, in order to visit with her two adopted dads. Cassius sighed wistfully. That would be nice... He hadn’t seen her in a while, although Bug had gone to visit fairly recently, and he missed the extra companionship and affection in his life.

Well, patience and understanding. He knew she was busy and really if he couldn’t make the time to visit her then he couldn’t complain if she wasn’t able to visit him. He loved his job dearly, but it did have its toll sometimes.

Skirting around the outside of the building at True Center, Cassius stopped in front of the clan leader’s house. Surtr kept her pets inside the house some nights, often letting them out to roam in the mornings so as to avoid mess in her lair. This meant that if he wasn’t careful, Cassius might run into one of the rather large bonepriests or corpse cleaners. They were familiar with him, many of them having been raised in his presence, but some of the newer ones were more unpredictable having not had the same amount of time as their elders to recognize what was and wasn’t some form of potential food.

Cassius gave a rather large yelp as hard, jutting horns suddenly rammed into his back; but just as quickly as fear seized him, it subsided. Turning, he found himself face to face with the largest Corpse Cleaner a dragon would ever see.

“Ichtor! You brat!” He grabbed the piece of horn nearest him and yanked down on it playfully. The giant bug shook its head a little and rammed him again. Cassius laughed a little, and turned to continue walking. “No treats for you, yet! I haven’t had breakfast, silly.”

Ichtor was the largest and oldest of Surtr’s collection, having been the very first she found and decided to raise. Taken in as a tiny grub, he and Cassius grew up under her care at the same time. The little wiggling creature had been left many times with the small frail toddler, and had learned not to bite him, instead deciding that this small and fluffy dragon was not enemy nor prey, but rather, a fellow insect that had never left the larval stage or grown horns.

(Cassius was a strange and squishy perma-grub in Ichtor’s eyes, but he was still his brother, and Ichtor would not allow any harm to come to him.)

Chuckling quietly, Cassius let himself into Surtr’s home, stopping in the foyer to ensure the door was closed (with a quick prayer, as always) and to remove his boots before heading further into the home.

The morning tasks were easy, and had never been something that was ever given to him as part of his duties, but instead were things he had done out of respect that later grew into habit. Surtr believed very strongly in routine as a necessity for a number of dragons in the clan; encouraging it silently for people like Cassius who had rather stressful situations. Routine was a comfort, and no one had to tell him twice.

Setting his scroll case down very gently on the table in first room on the right, he began pulling out the necessary supplies for tea, pausing to greet Fire as he quickly slithered into the room.

“Good morning, Fire. Would you like to stay for tea?”

The spiral looked up at Cassius, slithered onto the low flames in the fire pit, and slithered off as soon as it was once again comfortably roaring.

“I guess that’s a no, then.” He probably has a lot of other fires to tend. Cassius shook his head and smiled to himself slightly, placing the water over the freshly roused fire to heat. He grabbed a stiff broom from its hiding place behind a hanging cloth and gently swept the trail of soot Fire had left behind into the hearth. Reaching into a nearby container he pulled out a jar that was filled with some sort of dense paste and scrapped a healthy portion into one of the clan’s glass bowls. Adding a bit of water, he mixed it until it started to smell more like food, and once satisfied, he placed it on the table right next to four upturned cups.

Humming a song to himself softly, Cassius pulled the water from the fire and set the tea to steep. He lit a small lantern and quietly padded across the house to the far left side of the crescent shaped building. Parting thick curtains, he walked into a dark lair, hung ceiling to floor with heavy fabrics and various mysterious plants and strange objects in bottles. Placing the lantern on a low shelf, he crept towards the bed which contained what could only be described as a mass of hair connected to a forehead. Next to the nest was a relatively small structure made of bone, wood, and stone which was covered at the top with blankets and pillows. It was from this that a small arm poked out and waved, a tiny voice cooing softly, already awake despite no hint of sunlight in the room.

“Well, hi there...” Cassius smiled and touched the hand, giving it a small shake when it latched around his own. “It’s breakfast time, little missy,” he whispered, reaching in and grunting some as he attempted to retrieve the massive baby from its crib.

Sostviin was almost as large as his entire torso, and was definitely heavy enough to match. Balancing her mostly on his right arm to avoid straining his already tortured shoulder, Cassius quietly left the room, brushing down soft fluffy feathers and fur, rearranging the thin leathery wings that had been ruffled during the night.

Cassius sat back down at the table with the large pink infant placed firmly in his lap. He kissed her snout gently and reached for the bowl he had prepared earlier. Placing it on the table and taking a spoon out of his apron pocket, he held up a small dollop of the goo to Sostviin’s mouth, making small and encouraging yummy noises.

A padded paw reached out to rest on his wrist, tiny tongue licking the spoon clean and snout bumping clumsily against his hand looking for more. Cassius scooped up some more and continued to feed her, cooing and looking up only briefly when Rah entered the room.

Rah plopped a stack of papers on the table with a quiet grunt, causing the entire structure to move some with the low “phwump”. He began rummaging through a bag of scrolls and Cassius paused to look at him. Rah’s hair was slightly frazzled, flyaway hairs shooting off in almost every direction. His brow was furrowed slightly, and his collar seemed to be turned some, it had clearly been put on in a haste. If Cassius didn’t know any better, he might think that Rah had managed to put his skirt on backwards as well.

A desperate paw scraped at him and he resumed feeding, smiling down at Surtr’s daughter again. It seemed he was right, and that Rah had indeed had a visitor. These were all the hallmark signs of Rah oversleeping and rushing to gather himself in time. Personally Cassius thought it was a good thing, the scribe worked harder than most of them and could always use more rest.

Not that there necessarily had been resting, he thought to himself with a small audible giggle.

Rah looked up, one hand tucking stray hair behind his ear, squinting at Cassius slightly, “What?”

Cassius shook his head, “Just the baby.” Rah grunted and turned back to his bag, pausing before pulling out a scroll with a small triumphant ‘ah-ha!’.

“It’s a bit early for business, isn’t it Rah?”

“You say that every morning.” He pulled the scroll open and flopped into the nearest chair lightly.

“I don’t...” Cassius shifted Sostviin in his lap and placed the spoon gently next to the half-empty bowl. “Do I?”

“Something to that effect and immediately after I’ve begun pulling out work, yes.” Rah shook his head a bit, “Not that it’s my place to comment, of course. I’d never mean anything negative by it.”

Cassius rolled his eyes a bit and turned over one of the tea cups on the table. Rah’s eyes flicked to it, though his head did not turn, and he made an effort to straighten himself without it being too obvious.

With almost exact timing, Surtr silently appeared on the threshold, draped in an unusual sort of robe. She nodded to them both and crossed to the third side of the room where she began rummaging through a strange chest. It was detailed and ornate but by no means flashy, and like most of the shelves and containers in the room it rested atop another like it.

“Good morning, oni’kin.” Cassius piped cheerfully, “Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, her back to the other dragons in the room. “Yes.”

“Did you dream?”

She looked back at him over her shoulder with a smile, “All in due time, young one.”

Cassius smiled bashfully and went back to wiping at Sostviin’s face. “Oni’kin, would you like breakfast today?”

Surtr closed the chest and carried what she had pulled from it over to the table, pausing to place a hand on Cassius’s cheek. “No need to be so formal, gedein.” She pulled away and sat down next at the table, Rah shuffling papers to ensure they weren’t in front of her. Cassius blushed at the name, she had met his formality with her own, a gentle attempt at humor from the otherwise imposing leader.

Placing a small box on the table and preparing her own morning rituals, Surtr reached over to give her daughter a small pet on the snout.

Impatient to begin, Rah shuffled through his pile of scrolls and pulled one out. “Kiin, it seems that overnight our-”

Surtr cut Rah off with a gentle shushing sound. “All in time. It is not yet time.”

Rah huffed and pulled a slim pencil out of his waistband, bending to make some marks on a scroll while he waited.

They sat, the only sounds were that of the softly crackling fire, the occasional scritch of Rah’s pencil, an irritated ‘tsk’ here and there, and sort wheezy snorts from the baby who had accepted that she was not going to be fed any further and was beginning to settle down for her first morning nap. Cassius shifted her, then reaching across the table with his free arm, he picked up the pot and poured the now-set tea into the three cups. The first he offered to Surtr, leaving room for additions although he knew she did not use any, as it was deemed polite. The second he held up for Rah, clearing his throat to catch the scribe's attention. Overly enthralled in his own work, Rah reached over to take it without looking. He bumped the cup slightly but none spilled. The second cup was always filled only halfway, leaving room for a small bit of milk and to compensate for almost always being bumped into.

He slid the third cup gently towards himself, taking a spoonful of something from a small jar and stirring it in quietly. Once satisfied it had dissolved, he raised his mask, then lifted the cup and slurped at it. Finally, after she’d made some progress on her own tea and did what Cassius assumed was some sort of thought organization, Surtr placed her cup on the table and held her arms out for the tiny imp in his lap.

“Ah diislen, y’ling voth kuul nok?” The baby looked almost normal in size in her arms, large and pink, but still prominently dark, as she was. They certainly looked related, and it was for this reason that the question still remained as to where the child had come from, as it seemed too short a time for Surtr to have laid her herself, and too strange to thing that somewhere in the world a father existed for the child. It was speculated that she had simply found the young imp lying in the desert, but... that resemblance.. It raised doubts.

Surtr turned her attention back to Cassius, “I dreamt.” He lowered his cup slightly, eyes quizzical and full of anticipation.

“I dreamt last night. Of a strange place, new not to me but to us. I did not get to visit it, but chose instead to follow the butterfly that flew through my dreams.” She nodded, more to herself than anything. “It led me far and I feel... we might soon have a visitor. One who is... kin’bok of his own.”

She saw the look on Cassius and Rah’s faces, and tilted her head. “You worry.”

Rah blinked rapidly and lowered his paper and pencil to his lap. “I... I am concerned.” His face twisted a bit, “Does that not mean more change for us? Or potentially something dangerous?”

Surtr did not answer the question but instead turned her gaze to Cassius, as if asking him to respond for her. What the response she wanted was, he did not know, but as usual it caused him to give pause and consider a second angle. “We don’t know that he’s not alone. We don’t know anything.” He swirled the tea in his cup absently, “But... visitors are welcome now.” Cassius shrugged, “So what can you do.”

Surtr nodded and pet the wing of the now sleeping Sostviin fondly. “There are more important things. I believe you were mentioning one, nil’rot?”

Rah jumped slightly and scrambled for his papers as if suddenly struck by the memory that he did have things to say and they were important thank you very much! He grabbed his scroll and held it out for her with a quiet triumph.

Cassius reached for the teapot as Rah began to outline all the important things that had happened overnight. Some would prove to be important, but generally they were all of little to no consequence, or were things that could simply be put aside and dealt with at a later time. He topped off all of the cups and returned to sitting quietly, sipping at his own. His thoughts returned briefly to Bug, still snug as, well, a bug in a rug, in his bed. He almost snickered at the thought but caught himself, he was supposed to be paying attention. Oops.

So far it hadn’t been a particularly eventful morning. The things he had done were more of less in line with his usual routine, and none of the news sounded very exciting. The day would continue, then the three of them would go to eat breakfast, after which Surtr would meet with the other, more important dragons. First, those ziist, and then those siid. Rah would stop by his lair to see his boyfriend and then would likely continue on to his office, where he would work until midday, at which point he would begin his daily duties around the clan.

Cassius would eat. He would begin his own duties, and be sure to check in on the encampment to the east as well as the two people who had chosen to stay near the highland overnight on their way through the desert. If Surtr’s dream was prophetic, he would have to be sure he was available to meet this person as they arrived. And if not, well... It never hurts to be ready for visitors.

He shook his head slightly and lifted his mask up again, she was right. She was always right.

“All in time.”

#writing tag #I WROTE #FINALLY #lore

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