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fanficshiddles · 8 months

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The Cure, One Shot

Thank you for the prompt: If I could be anon please. A young woman is sent to the doctor for hysteria, Doctor Hiddleston knows just the cure for that. Non-con please.

WARNINGS: Rape/Non con!!

You were terrified as you waited in the doctor’s waiting room for your appointment. What didn’t help was it was the end of the day, so you were the last one there, aside from whoever was in with the doctor at the moment.

Even the receptionist was getting ready to head home, no doubt as soon as you were finished, she would be out the door.

Your anxiety was through the roof as it was, you hated having to talk to people in general. Especially about a problem that was… slightly intimate.

But your anxiety worsened when you saw the patient before you leaving a room, followed by the doctor. It was a male doctor. You had specifically asked for a female doctor when you made the appointment, briefly saying it was an intimate type of issue to the receptionist.

You were twirling your fingers around in your lap as the doctor spoke briefly to the receptionist, sending her home since it was already late. As his appointments had run over, that he would lock up. That’s when it clicked, you realised it was Doctor Hiddleston. He owned half of the practice.

Doctor Hiddleston looked over at you and smiled warmly as he said your name. ‘Come right through.’ He motioned to his room.

You hesitated big time, wanting to just run out the door instead. But you took a deep breath and put on your big girl pants, he was a professional after all. There was nothing to worry about. You needed to get this issue sorted out sooner rather than later. Besides, he looked nice and his voice was quite soothing, which put you at ease a little bit.

So you headed into the room and he followed you in and shut the door. He motioned for you to sit down as he sat at the desk.

‘I’m Doctor Hiddleston. There’s no need to be nervous, I’m here to help.’ He said kindly as he turned to face you with a warm smile and clasped his hands together. ‘What seems to be the problem?’

You gulped hard before responding. ‘I uh… well, I’m not really sure.’ You looked down at your hands in your lap, fiddling your fingers about nervously. ‘My anxiety seems to be getting worse… I also have been feeling super restless and not been sleeping great. I’ve been getting hot flushes too, mostly at night. My stomach is often sore. But my uh… my periods are all out of whack, there’s no pattern to them anymore.’ Your face felt like it was on fire as you told him.

He nodded and hummed as he listened. ‘Do you have a partner?’

‘No… Not for about a year.’

‘Ok, are you sexually active? Or have you been since?’ He asked.

Your eyes widened a little at that question. You shook your head.

He turned to his computer for a moment and typed a few notes, then turned back to face you with a serious look. ‘I think I now exactly what the problem is. You’ve got hysteria.’

‘What?!’ You gasped, horrified. ‘I… I thought… there was no such thing?’

Doctor Hiddleston chuckled gently. ‘Hysteria is most definitely real, I’m afraid. You have classic symptoms of it. But there’s no need to worry at all, it’s a very easy cure. It might take a few visits, but you will find after this appointment there’s a big difference.’

He stood and walked over to the door, your stomach twisted in fear as he locked said door. Then he went to the examination table and smoothed out a fresh sheet.

‘Come and make yourself comfortable here.’ He patted the table.

‘What… What is the cure?’ You asked, your voice trembling.

‘It’s a simple job, some external stimulation to release some of the tension. Or in simple terms, an orgasm.’ He smiled.

You rose from your chair and began moving towards the door as you shook your head. ‘I… I don’t think… No thank you… I will think it over, perhaps.’ As you reached the door, even though you knew it was locked you still tried the handle. Panic began setting in when you realised for certain you wouldn’t get out.

Hiddleston tsked and began rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. ‘Come now, you need to do as you’re told or you’ll never get better. It won’t hurt, I promise.’

‘This can’t be right, surely, it’s outdated. Please.’ You whimpered.

‘Are you really questioning my many years of training?’ He asked in a firm tone. You said nothing in response.

‘Get on the table. Don’t make this worse for yourself. I will not have a patient of mine leave here without proper treatment, do you know how damaging that would be to my reputation? So we can do it the easy way, or the hard way. It’s down to you.’ He growled at you.

Your whole body was shaking badly as you hesitantly made your way over to the table. You felt like you were going to be sick as you clambered on and lay down on your back.

‘That’s a good girl. Wasn’t so difficult now, was it?’ He said with a smile as he stroked your ankle. You were really regretting wearing a skirt now.

He put some stirrups into place and one at a time, put your foot into them and to your horror, restrained them in place with a strap around your ankle.

‘Please, I don’t like this.’ You whimpered, but he completely ignored your plea.

When he picked up a pair of scissors, you thought the worst. But he used them to cut off your knickers, which was horrifying enough. You tried closing your legs but couldn’t because of the stirrups.

‘Stop! Please! Just let me go!’ You sat up and tried to reach down to free yourself, but with a short wrestle he was able to capture both of your hands in his large ones.

That’s when you realised how strong he was as he easily pinned your hands down above your head, and he restrained them with his belt, tying them to the table on a bar that was just underneath.

‘I did offer the easy way. This is your own fault. But you will feel better after the treatment, I guarantee it.’ He said gruffly as he moved back down to the bottom of the table, between your legs. You were spread open and so vulnerable to him.

He spent a moment looking at you down there, spreading your lips apart and sliding his finger around. He put some lube onto his fingers and spread them over you, making you gasp a little and your body jolt when he brushed across your clit.

A wicked smirk spread on his lips as he repeated the movement, earning the same reaction.

‘Yes, most definitely a case of hysteria. You are very sensitive, which is a classic symptom. No need to worry, this is easy to fix. However, with you being so anxious I think you need a more specific kind of treatment. Something that toys won’t be able to do.’ He slowly circled your clit with his thumb and just as slowly inserted a finger into you, pushing through your tightness because of how tense you were.

‘What do you mean?’ Your voice was high pitched as you tried to squirm away from his touch. But you got no explanation yet.

He continued circling your clit, then inserted a second finger into you and he took his time exploring inside you. Twisting his fingers this way and that, to your horror he was starting to make you feel really good… Too good.

But it became unbearable when he curled his fingers in just the right way and in a come-hither motion, he rubbed across your g spot firmly. Between that and the clit stimulation, your mind was shutting down. Even as you continued to plead with him to stop. You felt so violated.

You started sobbing just as he made you cum, the confusion was horrible. Your mind was completely against what he was doing, but your body was begging and screaming for more. He kept stroking you through your orgasm, making the pleasure heighten to something you’d never felt before. You weren’t sure if your tears were from the assault or the pleasure.

‘That’s it. Now that wasn’t so scary, was it?’ He grinned widely.

You turned your head to the side away from him as tears fell down your cheek. You were so relieved when he removed his fingers from you.

You thought it was over. But it was far from over.

You heard rustling and as you looked down, you began struggling again. He was undoing his trousers and pulling his cock out, to your horror he was already hard and he stroked himself a few times, aiming right at your cunt.

‘As I said, your case is quite far advanced. You need a thorough fucking to feel better, plus your body is craving to be bred. So that’s what we need to give it.’

No! NO! Please, no! Stop, I’m begging you! I won’t tell anyone, just stop. Please! I’m cured. It’s fine!’ You were struggling so much that the table was starting to rock.

But Hiddleston tugged you down a little so you were right at the bottom of the table, and he stepped in-between your thighs. You screamed at him to stop, screamed for help, but there was no-one in the building to hear you.

When he pressed the tip of his cock against your soft lips, you tried flailing your legs more, but the stirrups were in place too well. He put his hand firmly on your abdomen, pinning you down to keep you from breaking the table or the stirrups, then he pushed into you. Excruciatingly slowly, inch by inch, making you feel all of him.

‘Please.’ You sobbed, but it was pointless. He was taking you, whether you wanted it or not. There was absolutely nothing you could do.

‘Ohh, so tight. It has been a while.’ He growled as he started thrusting into you at a decent pace, no doubt bruising your poor insides. He was a large man too, in every aspect of the meaning. So you felt him in places you’d never felt before.

Annoyingly, he was hitting your g spot with every stroke, and it got worse when he started rubbing your clit again with his thumb.

‘You will feel so much better after this.’ He grunted between thrusts. Sweat was beading on his forehead as he pounded into you, dragging out this nightmare.

When you realised that he was about to cum inside you, you just cried even more. Knowing there was no point pleading him to stop, because there was no way he was going to.

‘Think of it as I’m putting out the fire inside of you, darling.’ He panted and forced you to cum again on his cock with a well angled thrust and firm rub of your clit.

As you cried out in a mixture of pleasure and emotional pain, he came too from the way your body naturally squeezed around him, wanting him to do exactly what he was about to.

He came inside you, in abundance. You could feel him filling you up and it felt like he was never going to stop. He was trembling as he stared you down with a wicked grin, he thrust slowly a few more times for good measure, causing some of his sperm to seep out of you, you could feel it dribbling down onto the sheet underneath.

‘That’s it. See, that wasn’t such a horrible treatment, was it?’ He asked as he pulled out of you and sorted himself out.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even look at him. Even as he undid your restraints, you just lay there.

He barked your name, making you jump. You reluctantly did turn your head to look at him. He gripped your chin and brushed his thumb against your cheek as fresh tears escaped.

‘Shhh, shhh. No need for that, because you don’t need to worry. I know you feel better already, and after a few more sessions you will be fighting fit again.’

He saw the look of horror that crossed your face.

‘And remember, I know where you live. So I can easily organise home visits for the remaining treatments… And don’t forget, I have a wonderful reputation in this city, it would be a shame if someone was to try and spoil that over something so silly. Especially when she enjoyed it so much, too. Cumming all over my cock like a little whore.’ He growled deeply.

You knew that was his way of warning you. And you knew he was right, there was no way you’d be able to tell anyone that would believe you. Plus, he really did know where you lived, he had access to all of your information. What if he was more dangerous than you thought? There was no way you could risk it…

‘Now, head off home and relax. You should sleep well tonight.’ He unlocked the door then opened it. ‘If there’s anymore issues, just give me a call.’

Even though your legs were completely jelly, you scrambled off the table and ran out of the room.

‘I’ll see you in a week’s time for the second round of treatment.’ He called after you as you fled from the building.

#tom hiddleston #one shot #prompt #Tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you

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racefortheironthrone · 3 months

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So! I was planning on writing a Batman fan fic and had a question about the urban facing side I was wondering if you could help on. I suppose this can intersect with other super hero / billionaire figures. Interested in exploring urban development in the setting but trying to avoid pitfalls , but ofc no worries if this isn’t something in your purview or interest

I feel like Gotham, so deeply realized as a fictional setting and riddled with its issues as a city, would be a great template to explore these urbanist issues. And while Batman treats symptoms - protecting people from acts of violence, and also pursuing those who are responsible for the corrupt systems who have put themselves above conventional pursuit. But Bruce Wayne I feel like by a lot of fans can he overlooked as an agent of improvement in Gotham - he can use his political and economic clout to both publically and privately improve the systemic conditions of the city, like his famous hiring program for ex cons. And I would like to explore this side a lot deeper, however I’m wary of showing a billionaire as the only solution , or even the best solution to a city’s issues and basically recreating public policies privately.

Since showing a privatized solution to be the answer to all these problems isn’t the sentiment I want to give, as often private corporations are the ones exploiting / building up this cult of personality around millionaires is already troublesome. But ofc, Bruce Wayne is fictional and can be an example of how a CEO ought to act, but would like to show these solutions are achievable and to be sought after in the public sphere - we shouldn’t expect CEO to hire ex cons, build free transit, eliminate all these zoning issues by buying half the city because 1) unrealistic and 2) can institute a dangerous mindset where it’s like “just give everything to billionaires and they’ll fix things!” (See, the cult of musk)

So my question is, do you have any recomendations on how to achieve this balance of using Wayne as a championing workers rights, urban development , reform etc. without just shilling for billionaires? Because, after all, billionaires have been opponents and don’t want to diminish that. Perhaps using his influence to give away his infouence to others , if that makes sense. or even better - historical examples of figures of privilege utilizing their position to advocate for the public sector and go all in as earnest urban Allies as a roadmap to model this after?

This is a really interesting question, and I think points to some of the limitations of what can be done with the Bruce Wayne archetype.

As I've said before, I think what can be done to make Wayne an enlightened person without falling prey to the mentality that "the billionaires will save us!" (looking at you, RALPH) is to really explore the limitations of top-down reform.

Because if there is one genuine weaknesses both to the Batman and Bruce Wayne, it's that he has a well, "heroic" mindset in which he thinks that if he's just smart enough, prepared enough, tough enough, that he can win a one-man-war on crime and other social evils - but you don't really see him engaging in movement-building in either his vigilante or civilian sides.

In the former, even if we leave aside his more "lone wolf" depictions, Batman has issues with trust and working well in groups. At best, he cultivates a small number of people (the Robins, the JLA), and he tends to keep people at arm's length. In the latter, even when Bruce is trying to make systemic, social interventions in transportation or housing or health care or social welfare, it's usually done through a top-down approach - build this project here, support this politician there - rather than sitting down and doing an analysis of how he could build a sustainable majority coalition with the muscle to change Gotham on its own.

Realistically, an honest, militant, and strategic Waynetech union (albeit assisted from the shadows to keep the mob and the supervillain gangs at bay) could do more to change Gotham for good than any Foundation that has ever or could ever exist.

#comics #comics meta #dc #dc meta #bruce wayne #batman #gotham city

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rendy-a · 2 years

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Sick Day with your pets – Rook, Jamil, Leona, Kalim and Floyd

Being sick is no fun but it is an opportunity to have your trusty pet take care of you or for you to take care of them. This is a story from Aurora’s Pet AU. Check out her original works too. @glass-cage-of-emotion-12

Master is sick. Which pets are great to have taking care of you?

This is probably not the most obvious one but Rook is such an observant pet that he has already noticed your slight fever before you even feel off. By the time you are pulling out the thermometer to check your temperature, he has gone to the store and returned with just the medicine you need. Lie down now master and let him take care of you.

Feeling bored just lying in bed? Rook is prepared to entertain you. Would you like to hear a story? Rook seems to have seen every play that’s been on stage in the past 10 years. Interested in a song? He will gladly serenade you until his voice gives out. Fancy some poetry, well reader, you are most certainly in luck. Rook has composed a ponderous amount of poetry in your honor that he’d love to recite to you at this very moment. And yes, it is mostly in French.

When you want to get up, Rook isn’t the sort of pet to keep you in bed. He will tell you honestly if he feels like you are getting up too soon but, if you chose, he is perfectly fine in letting you make your own decision. If you fall ill again, well you’ve learned a lesson and who is Rook to deny you such a marvelous life experience. Ah master, seeing you valiantly fight against the hand of fate. Beaute! 100%!

Jamil probably doesn’t notice you are sick right away; he is very busy with his household duties, after all. Once you call him over and sheepishly ask if he can make you a soup, well that is when his nurse mode takes over. He once had to share a room with a pet that seemed to always need taking care of. Due to this, his efficiency at putting you to bed and arranging everything needed for rest and recovery is top notch.

The best part of being sick with Jamil in the house is obviously the cooking. He will not only make you a classic chicken soup but he also seems to know a recipe for every little symptom that ails you. Have a sore throat? Jamil has the perfect honey sweetened tea for that. Have an upset stomach? Jamil will make you a lightly seasoned rice porridge. Fever won’t stop? Have a refreshing yogurt smoothie. It’s the most delicious way to get over your sickness!

The hardest part of having Jamil as your nurse is getting him to stop fussing when you feel better; he is just so invested in your care. Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay in bed longer, he can make all the necessary calls to get you off from work. Perhaps you should let him carry that heavy book for you, it wouldn’t do to strain yourself after you’ve so recently recovered. Worried about holding him back from his chores? Don’t be. He has already finished everything for today and gotten a meal prepped for tomorrow. Anything you need master, just consider me your genie of the lamp.

Ok, ok. Leona isn’t exactly the first one to come to mind when you think of someone to take care of you. He does seem like the type to say, “Not my problem!” and ditch you for a nap but…

Let’s talk about naps for a moment. You know how some days you are feeling under the weather and just need to spend the day in a dark room resting? Ok, now you see where this is going. Leona is like 100% the best napping buddy you could ask for. He knows just how to pull the shade to make the room pleasantly dark or set you up on a couch with warm sunlight. And if some other pet makes too much noise, Leona will take care of that too. >:(

If you wake up from your nap you may even discover he has joined you. Feel free to cuddle up to him, scratch his ears or ever touch his tail. He’ll allow it this time…but only because you are sick!

You might even get to see his surprisingly capable side. If you are sick for too long, he notices. You’ll wake up to find that he has made you an appointment at the doctor, arranged a taxi and will even accompany you to make sure you get there safely. He’ll take care of everything, so no complaining! Quiet down Herbivore. Be good now and when we get home, I’ll help you work on that little roar of yours.

Pets get sick too. Who is the most interesting to care for when sick?

Maybe it was something he ate but today your little ball of sunshine Kalim has no energy. He lays on the sofa watching you quietly with his sad red eyes as you go about the day. Try to send him to bed though and he will insist that he’ll be too lonely if you don’t go with him. Congratulations, you’ve volunteered to sit at his bedside. Hold his hand and rub little circles on his palm, the happy smile he gives you is worth the effort.

He will talk to you in a soft voice, asking you questions about many things; your life, your favorite things, your dreams…he wants to know all about you and this opportunity is too good to pass up! Please tell him stories; he doesn’t care what kind. He will smile happily when the hero wins the love of their paramour. He will yell out loud during the exciting parts. You will scare him when the villain appears (don’t forget to give his hand an extra squeeze).

How can you tell when he feels better? He will probably ask you for a feast. Hey, he was sick and needs to eat now to recover! Just make sure you are the one ordering lunch or you may be in for some surprises. What do you mean Master? 95 white Persian monkeys are a great addition to a casual lunch! Ha ha!

When you see him just sitting quietly, you know something is up. Ask him how he is feeling, and he will give you a long appraising stare. If you continue to meet his eyes, he will finally tell you he isn’t feeling well at all. The fact that he opens up enough to let you know when he isn’t feeling well is a major show of trust. You must be doing something right!

What you do after that is highly dependent on his mood. If he is in a good mood, he will want to have you cuddle up and play with him all day long. Watching afternoon game shows on TV? Check. Playing card games? Check. Having ice cream for lunch? Why not? It’s just like being a child again. Are you making him feel better or is he making you feel better?

Or, if he is feeling down, he will only allow you to talk to him while he continues to lay down. Don’t think that he isn’t paying attention though. Not only is he taking in everything you say, but he is also keenly observing you. If you aren’t careful, he’ll get all your secrets out of you. Hmm, but you told Azul we had fried chicken that day because you didn’t have time to cook. So that is what really happened, huh Master? Don’t worry, I won’t tell…for a price. I hope you are prepared to play with him all day tomorrow too.

Tags: @thecurrator

#pet au #twst wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland #rook hunt #leona kingscholar #jamil viper #kalim al asim #floyd leech #twst floyd #twst jamil #twst leona #twst kalim #twst rook

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relastelvanni · 1 year

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📖 2022

The week leading up to Christmas 2021, I was unwell. I was feeling very fatigued and burnt out as we all were. There wasn’t a lot of sun so I was likely Vitamin D deficient, right? Also I somehow lost 10 lbs between October and December without trying which didn’t match what I was eating - probably stress? Oh, but I feel really thirsty, and I can’t seem to quench it… that’s an odd symptom I can’t explain with burnout. It was that symptom that made me test my fasting blood sugars and sure enough, they were way over into diabetic levels.

🚨

On Hogmanay as I rushed to get my booster before the bells, I also went to the GP as an emergency for my blood test. The results came back and my GP wanted to talk urgently. On Jan 5th I was officially diagnosed with Type 2 Diabetes and put onto metformin straight away. This began a whirlwind of a year.

On the outside I seemed calm, on the inside I was a ball of emotion, but mostly shame. Shame that after years of warnings this could happen, I had to tell people what had happened. I felt guilt for making people around me worry for my health. I wanted to prove to everyone that I was okay and they didn’t have to worry about me. Maybe not a healthy attitude to take but from the moment I left that Doctor’s surgery and took a 2.5 mile walk home, I decided I was going for remission, end of.

I immediately went on a low carb diet of 130g of carbs a day and stuck to it religiously, I did not break 130g or tried not to. No cheat days, no snacking. Again, perhaps not the healthiest thing to do but I couldn’t bring myself to eat high carbs again. I started walking a lot more, walking three miles home from work in the winter. I went swimming, I got a bike through the cycle to work scheme. But most of all was the diet. It was tough and there were times I felt like crying. But my head told me “I put myself in this situation, you don’t deserve sympathy”. Urgh, silly head.

But despite that negative mindset, the physical side improved quickly. My sugars fell rapidly most importantly and as a by-product, I lost 15 lbs in the first month, followed by another 15 lbs in the second, starting at 255 lbs and ending March around 210.

Now those who know me will know I had no problem with my weight before - I was very happy as a chubby person because I went on a journey over the past few years of learning to love my body, throw off the shame I held against my body and show it off at the beach and the pool etc. So the weight loss for me was such a sudden shift in mindset too. I was back very quickly to a body I had before I learned to love my body… and societal pressure came back. That’s been a struggle this year is loving my new body without need for validation externally.

But in terms of the diabetes, by the end of March, I had my hbA1c checked again… and I was no longer diabetic! I had managed, with the tablets, to get the diabetes into remission. I can’t tell you how proud I am to have got to this point. All the hard work and hardship I put my mental state through was worth the result.

Over the next three months I relaxed the diet a wee bit and let myself eat a little more, but no where near the levels I was at before. My weight finally stabilised at around 180 lbs which is where I’m at now, meaning in total from max weight, I’ve lost 85 lbs in the last year. But more importantly, at the end of June, my HbA1c was still at a non diabetic level, this time without medication.

Since June, my weight has been stable, my sugars are still down, I’ve taken up badminton 2-3 times a week to keep me active physically (and mentally too). I feel fantastic physically and I’m so happy I’ve managed to turn around the diabetes. I still need to work on my mental state and work on some of those troublesome feelings I had at the start of the year as well as others. But aye, long post, but I’m still here, still going. Hopefully 2023 I’ll stay in remission. All the best to everyone 💛

#me #gpoy #gay bear #gay cub #tummy #non binary #queer

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burnwater13 · 6 months

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Concept art by Nick Gindraux

Grogu wondered where he could find information on Sith colds and flus. He really didn’t think it was normal for Jedi or anyone else to just randomly hear the Emperor talking to them. Plus, the last time Grogu had checked, the Emperor was gone. Done. Finished. Never to be heard from again. Never. To. Be. Heard. From. Again.

So why was he talking to Grogu? Clearly the Mandalorian hadn’t heard him say ‘do it’. His dad had just kept humming and working on the stuff he’d been working on. Grogu didn’t even want to mention to him that anything strange had happened. He knew his dad. He’d get worried, then anxious, and then he’d be dragging them both around the galaxy looking for people who could verify that the Emperor was really gone and that Grogu had nothing to worry about.

If the Mandalorian did that, there was no way that he and Grogu would be back to their cabin on Nevarro in time for the Clan Mudhorn Festival. Nope. They’d probably find themselves on Coruscant or Mustafar or even Dathomir. Grogu didn’t even want to go to Naboo or Tatooine to figure this problem out.

Maybe he could just use his datapad and run some searches and get answers to his questions that way. He didn’t think his dad would mind if he just sat still for a few minutes and looked up some information. He could always tell Din Djarin that he was trying to find his old mentor or come up with ideas for some more of the flats he’d been building.

He went to his room to fetch the small device and was instantly annoyed. It was in his room. That was good. But he hadn’t put it on its charger. Dank Farrik. He had been so caught up in all the plans, getting R5 to fetch the materials and then working on the decorations and all that, he’d simply forgotten to put it on the charger when he went to sleep the prior or night or even after breakfast when he knew that he’d be doing the work and not just planning it.

He collected it and brought it over to his dad to see if he could do anything.

“Sorry, Buddy. This style of datapad doesn’t have removable battery packs. I’ll just have to put it on the charger. It looks like it’s down to a zero power level. Have you charged it at all in the last week?”

Grogu thought about that. Then he sighed. He probably hand’t. He was so caught up with the Festival that maybe he hadn’t charged it since the night before. But he was sure he had charged it then. If that was the case, maybe the battery was just going bad?

Grogu explained to his dad that he had thought it had been charged recently, but in any case what could he do until it was charged enough to use?

“You can use my comp. I’ll get it from the N-1. Just don’t put a bunch of games on it like the last time I let you use it, okay?”

His dad sounded serious but not annoyed. The last time he let Grogu use it, it just so happened that they were visiting Peli Motto and she and Grogu joined virtual sabacc tournament. Grogu had won a fair number of credits and would have won more if the comp hadn’t started making all sorts of celebration noises and tipped Din Djarin off that some games were now cluttering up the system that he used to manage the N-1’s part list and his blog on armor polishing, tips and techniques.

Grogu nodded his head. He just wanted to see what caused Sithy colds and flus and then maybe find out how to cure them and perhaps, if he had time, figure out how to reach Din’s old mentor. Those were all good and worthy purposes right?

It wasn’t very hard to find information on general colds and flus. The problem was there were so many that Grogu gave up reviewing the list. It was just too long. Then he found a symptom advisor which would help diagnose which one he had when he entered his symptoms. The list didn’t get shorter until he added the phrase ‘cackles like a Sith with red eyes’ and then there was just one link. Grogu followed the link but all he got was a message that said ‘You’ve fallen to the dark side and have a case of the Siths. Help is on the way. In the meantime, think happy thoughts, tell people you love them, stay away from Sith artifacts, and do not use the Force.’

That seemed helpful, but was it? Really? Grogu couldn’t tell.

He just moved on from that task to seeing if he could find the contact information for his dad’s mentor. That was a bit trickier. Din Djarin was very good at keep track of all sorts of information. Bounty hunters had to be good at that. But Grogu didn’t really understand how his dad organized that information. He couldn't just do a simple search and complex search parameters didn’t help either.

Then it occurred to Grogu that he could use the Force to help him, despite what the Sith link had directed. He wasn’t a Sith and he was feeling better now, anyway. He began to meditate and asked the Force to show him which of the thousand spreadsheets his dad kept had that kind of life changing data in it.

Surprisingly, when Grogu opened his eyes, a spreadsheet was open and line 14,300 was highlighted. Yippee! He’d found it! Grogu read through the data presented and then sighed. He’d found something life changing all right. Line 14,300 recorded the amount of beskar the Mandalorian had been paid for turning Grogu over to the Client. Uff. Just like his dad to keep track of that. It also showed the date, the conditions of collection and note that read ‘Such a large bounty for such a small package’. Huh.

Grogu had certainly changed the Mandalorian’s life and he was a small package. He’d heard that about 14,300 times. And… he was worth every credit. Ha. Those fools! Thinking that a being as strong as he was in the Force could be subdued by any but the best bounty hunter in the Outer Rim! He’d show them that he was worth every plate of beskar! Now he just needed to find that mentor’s name so he could be brought to Nevarro in time for the Festival! Yes… that’s just what would happen…

“Grogu, buddy, what are you cackling about? I think you need to get some sleep pal, your eyes are red again.”

Dank Farrik!

#calendar prompt a day #the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #300th story this year

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hwan-g · 2 years

Text

chapter one ( forget ) ANTHOLOGY.

‘forget everything. open the windows.’ — frank kafka.

pair. hyunjin x reader x felix | warnings. mentions of cheating, angst, heartbreak, mentions of depression, profanity, suggestive behavior, mentions of food and drinking | word count. 10.7k

synopsis. fresh out of your breakup with their best friend, the duo decide it’s time for you to get out of hibernation; so the plan begins. only problem—neither of them drive.

tags. @cb97percent, @ughbehavior, @lix-ables, @hyuneater, @hyun-bun, @j-0ne25, @hellishmoons, @danyxthirstae01, @enluc, @skz317cb97.

June 19th.

Summer shuddered outside your room, trees peeking through the pale curtains.

Wake up, will you? Enough.

You stir in your sleep, face nuzzling the pillow, brain shifting the fog away. And face another day? you groggily think. Maybe tomorrow, maybe when the sun leaves me alone.

No, it must be now— “hey, don’t turn away from me!” Huh?

Your eyes fall open, a familiar figure coming into focus. Distantly, you think you’re cold, so you try to locate the AC unit above your desk, see if it’s still on. It was off. So, a different coldness, then. Or, perhaps, the same one that’s followed you since March. The icy cloud of heartbreak and all its symptoms.

Hwang Hyunjin is standing above your bed, studying the mess of you. Half of you feels apologetic, almost. The other half wants to return to your dream, grapefruit flavored. There, it’s warm. There, there are no lurking shadows, no golf sized hail descending from the sky, no apocalypse swallowing the Earth as you know it.

There, everything just is. As it should be—as you want it to be.

He sighs, and reaches for your arm, sitting you up. You blink at him. He blinks back, raising his eyebrows. Your chest deflates, giving in.

“Alright.”

Hyunjin grins, messenger bag hitting against his hip as he moves towards your closet. “That’s my girl.”

You smile softy, fondly at his back. His hair is back to black, a midnight silky wave framing his pretty features. Fair, lovely—the dictionary bows before him, offering its infinite words. A porcelain doll that came alive as a birthday wish once, or a foreign prince that escaped a children’s fairytale book and has tried to adapt to real life ever since.

Not quite corporeal, not yet. Soon, you think. He’s not ready yet.

He holds up a floral dress for you. A dainty thing, green all over, with thin straps. You grimace, pulling the covers over your legs. Your arms are freezing, the tips of you going numb. This is how it happens—the unfortunate, the terrible.

Your heart. Your stupid heart.

“Jeans, or forget about it,” you threaten.

“I’m doing you a favor here,” he fights back, waving the piece of fabric. “I was kind enough to not mention the state of this place.”

Your eyes squint at him. “Your apartment is covered in paint.” But you knew it was a weak retort, and he’d eventually win.

He was better at this than you. You threw the towel in too fast, grew tired of wit games if they showed to be futile from the start. And you knew, most of all, that Hyunjin was, indeed, only trying to help. Him and Felix filled your inbox with daily worried remarks, most going unanswered, though that never seemed to stop them. The resilient pair, the two of them. Always together, strong in their unity.

Felix had even attempted to bake cookies for you, using his emergency key to come in your house as you remained hermetically locked in your room, your grief contained with you. He’d cleaned a bit, thrown out expired food from your fridge, and made a big bowl of bibimbap, with a note on it.

‘At least eat this, yeah? It’s made with lots and lots and lots of love. Please?’

You did eat it. Two days later, when you noticed it next to the carton of eggs. When your spoon scraped the bottom of the Tupperware, a decision had been made. That night you answered all their messages, reassuring everything would be okay. It had to, eventually. Before you lost your mind, preferably.

A breakup with Bang Chan was tough business, but you’d known all along. This man would be hard to get over—perhaps because you never expected the blow. But you cannot procrastinate the inevitable, no matter how you wish otherwise. Things happen and they stay, they are all you can see, they drown and castrate, sweep you up and down, sideways and all ways, until one day they just—don’t.

Until they seize or subside. So, it would be okay. With time. Always, endless, unmeasured time.

June was a good place to start.

Later, dread showered off, you wore that silly flower dress per request, and sat on the kitchen table eating the sesame bagel Hyunjin had brought you, and was so avidly forcing you to try, when he asked if he could do your hair.

It brought back the memory of him absentmindedly putting your hair in a braid all those years ago, before you run across scorching sand to swim in the vibrant blue of the sea. He’d sat you between his long legs, as Chan threw a frisbee back and forth with Changbin, feet dipped in seafoam.

Now, he does it consciously. Every finger finding its way through your damp locks, pulling it back in the familiar style, away from your, sticky with moisturizer, face. The bagel is nice, perfectly toasted, and the yellow light falling through the kitchen window above the sink doesn’t feel like such a punishment anymore. A dream, this seems, the world has stopped spinning. Hyunjin weaves magic through him, so much so, everything looks a shade brighter, there’s glitter on the ceiling, the flowers bloom on your mini dress.

A moving painting. The power of the artist.

“Felix is stuck in traffic,” he mumbles, tying the hairband on the end of his finished work. “You’d think the taxi driver would go through the streets. Such con men, these people…”

You smile, chewing. “He wouldn’t be, if one of you would just go get your driving license.”

He sighed behind you, patting your head mockingly. “Sweetheart, I am a painter—I can’t possibly be bothered with such a mundane thing, now, can I?”

With an eye roll, you look at the empty paper bag in front of you. “You’re the one complaining…” you trail off, sulkily.

Hyunjin ignores you. “Do you have a ribbon? I think a ribbon would look cute with this dress!” And he’s off, in his own fantastic world of ribbons, and colors, and swirls—patterns, and brush strokes, and ideas.

You wonder what it would be like to live in a world where all is animated, all vivid and quite unreal. Perhaps there, the heaviness in your heart would feel like cotton candy, melting into nothing in your mouth.

Perhaps.

You stare at the duffel bags on the pavement in bewilderment.

When did this happen?

Felix was talking with the driver, ‘It’ll only be a few minutes, thank you for waiting,’ before his face broke into a smile that would put the sun to shame, and rushed to gather you in his arms. Apparently, you were to rewrite the whole planet green, alive with summer, glistening like leaves on a wild field—

Hyunjin smirks down at you, as you look at Felix’s mint colored Converse, wondering how much more of your life went unnoticed by you, how you kept getting coaxed into these peculiar situations unbeknownst to yourself, a stranger in a body you’ve hosted all your life, suddenly forgetting your lines, or how limps moved.

What a strange realization.

“I got the tickets on my phone. The ride is two hours, and then we’ll have to get on a bus,” Felix was excitedly informing Hyunjin of your trip, never once pausing to see your surprised expression.

Hyunjin was nodding along, amused smile tugging on his lips, as he loaded the bags in the trunk of the orange car. When he shut it closed, he turned to your unmoving frame.

“Are you coming?” he asked you. As if you had a choice, when all was packed to go.

Words had left you, but you managed an incredulous “How?” to which he chuckled.

He offered his hand, and you eyed it hesitantly. Felix saw the whole encounter, and his demeanor changed immediately.

“You were supposed to tell her!”

“She’d say no.” Brown eyes pierced you knowingly, hand patient, waiting.

“Well, she’s not saying yes,” the blonde sighed. “We thought you needed a way out. So, we’re taking you away to sea,” he smiled warmly at you.

This is the second part. Lee Felix is made of star powder and pixie dust, absolutely. The garden of him continues to grow over everything, could not be put behind fences, and does not abide by any human rules. Like Hyunjin, he was dreamed up by fairies in a magical forest, where birds sing, and deer can talk. At least, that was the general impression of him. Like a spell, you lay defenseless, agreeing to every word coming out of his mango lips.

Once, for your birthday, he’d given you a friendship bracelet. He was already wearing his, the colorful beads circling around his wrist cutely, the smiley face staring at yours disapprovingly. You think that was when the magic bonded together, when the spell was cast. Yet, taking off the bracelet was out of the question, had never dawned on you.

So, you went. Took Hyunjin’s hand and followed the two of them inside the taxicab. The ride to the train station was filled with Felix’s recommendations of restaurants, and the small history lesson Hyunjin gave the both of you, what he’d heard from his parents of Sokcho, how it has existed B.C, how it started a small fishing village and has come to now be one of the most popular destinations in all of South Korea.

You and Felix listened intently, drinking every word in. When Hyunjin talked, it was water on a stream. Everything became alive, leaned closely. His voice was made of the same magic that existed in your bracelet. Secret, ancient witchcraft, the kind that bewitched the soul, run through your veins acting as your own blood.

Hyunjin was like that—a young God. His actions could only be justified as mystic, coming from an elsewhere, a place that couldn’t possibly endure in the human realm. No one could understand his ways, if they weren’t hooked directly into the heart tree that consists of him. It is why he does not have many friends—

It is the very reason he paints. If Hyunjin did not have an outlet, he’d be a terrible man. Felix knows this best.

The station was chaos. Families on vacation, sleepy children moving sheepishly across the ticket kiosks, holding their parents’ hand; people dressed in formal attire, likely off to business meetings, and thirty story buildings. But the couples—you stopped dead in your tracks, staring at the stolen glances, the intertwining of their fingers, the synchronicity of their steps. So romantic love hadn’t died after all.

You’d thought if yours and Chan’s relationship could flicker out, then no one stood a chance. Or perhaps you’d been fed a lie; you’d played the part that had been given to you a little too well, believed it a little too much. In any case, no Chan standing next to you, holding your hand, carrying your purse on his shoulder. No one at all for you. Not anymore.

Just an excited Lee Felix, followed by photographer extraordinaire Hwang Hyunjin.

Your first friend—first love. Beginning of time, Hwang Hyunjin, and everything that exists in the in between.

The platform for your destination only had a handful of people waiting, the clock reading ten minutes to spare before boarding. By that point, the day had grown unbearably warm, sweat threatening to drip from every pore, sunrays shading everyone a faint flush of red. It was nice, you thought stupidly, it felt very much like being alive, five years old, running around in the backyard of your house growing up, no care for sunburn, or anything, really. Mud on your shorts, wet hair from the water guns that had been an early birthday present the year prior, and popsicle juice leaking down your chin.

Lee Felix swinging his lemonade glass up high, big eyes shining, mischievous expression—poor, much shorter you and your big, dumb emotions spilling out of you even then, even in play, even in pretend. On the first sight of tears, the boy caved, terrified of your sobs, scared he’d get in trouble. He’d never been good at intimidating, anyway, never wanted you to think he was being for real.

What had been real—Hyunjin grabbing the plastic gun, spraying away at the strange boy that had entered their life suddenly, having moved from a place called Australia, so far from where you were. The glass spilling, the boy soaked, you laughing at the two of them, silly silly boys and their silly boy games, tears forgotten, summer raging on and on and on, forever in your memory—

Boys. Your entire life had consisted of them, of all that makes them, all that involves them. You’d been swept away, grown into the shape they’d made of you, waited for their instructions and words that could raise or break you, always them them them, and so little of you, yet if you were to deconstruct everything that was until now, you’d be left with absolutely nothing if they hadn’t been there. If the inner workings of you were to be altered.

“AC would be great right about now,” Felix commented miserably, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

“Dare I mention it again, in fear of being dragged—the DMV is like— thirty minutes away from your place.”

Hyunjin groans, slamming the palm of his own hand against his face. “Not this again.”

“It stands true, you are both adults—” “I don’t see you having a car, love,” Felix interjected, staring pointedly at you.

You scowled, pursing your lips. “I don’t possess the kind of wealth you two have.”

“So, if we bought you a car, would you drive us around then?” the black-haired man turned to look at you, eyes suggestive and smiling.

“No.”

Another protesting exclaim, this time mirrored.

“Oh, thank God!” The train arrived, grand and multi travelled, taking its time to come to a stop, the sudden breeze blowing the three of you back.

“Let’s go,” Felix guided you through the doors, all the way to your seats, Hyunjin trailing behind, a feather of a touch on your shoulder.

Once the conductor checked your tickets, you deflated in the tight space, checking the carry-on underneath you with the heel of your shoe. Hyunjin grinned at you, eyes turning into crescent moons, holding entire planets within them.

“Do you need to look so breathtaking all the time?” you voice your thoughts to him, almost annoyed.

He laughed a full sound, long, slender fingers hiding his mouth, rings adorning them, heavy with meaning. Felix’s identical ones glint under the summery brightness coming from the wide window next to you.

“Not something I can exactly help, sweetheart.”

You see it, then, the meeting of hands between them, the long slender fingers and the shorter chubbier ones, the crescent moons, and the sunbeam smiles. It’s absentminded, it’s nearly muscle memory for them, impossible to miss, like a thought in the back of your head that had once been on the tip of your tongue—a soulmate connection.

The silly boys had grown up to be dreamers, admirers of art, and art themselves under a certain light, in the right angle, at the proper place, and then, before you could’ve even blinked—lovers.

Sometimes. When the darkness is unbearable, when the sky is devoid of its stars. In those spaces of time, they meet halfway, souls bared, hearts beating as one. Your beautiful boys, the forest fairy tale. Who could’ve known, and yet it was so very evident. Still, they never once separated you from their magic, never alienated you from your place in the center, always the center, vital for their existence as much as they were for yours.

You must’ve drifted off after a while, staring at the action of surrender, wondering— if Bang Chan had ever loved you even half as much as you’d loved him, his hand wouldn’t have felt so heavy on yours, weighing, tugging. A cruise anchor on top of a house roof.

Or, perhaps, was it a different love? A love between a man and a woman; Atlas, and the World? Not the push and push back, the warrior and his armor, but the war and Helen of Troy.

Hyunjin’s sketchbook is propped on top of his knees, legs pulled up, pencil dancing on top of rough paper.

Felix was passed out next to him, head resting on the artist’s shoulder, belonging, impetuous. You blinked, and rubbed at your eyes, grabbing Hyunjin’s water bottle and gulping a sip of it down.

A baby was crying in the background, the moving of the train barely a whisper to you now.

“How long was I out?” you ask quietly, not wanting to disrupt the magic.

“An hour and a half,” he replies without lifting his gaze.

Fields stretched out of the window now, acres of them, all wild with color, greengreengreen, endless, shouting. You didn’t bother Hyunjin for the rest of the time on the train, letting him stew in his ideas, and faraway places, his own greens, and blues, suns and universes, the pale haired boy with him, joined, clasping.

When you reached Gangneung, it was already past noon, a few clouds making their way over the light, blue turning pastel. Hyunjin put away his drawing materials, gently shaking Felix, wiping sleep from his face, a secret passing between them in hushed voices.

Felix nodded, and looked at you, the softest smile painting his pink lips. His hair looked fluffy—you wanted to reach out and pass your fingers through it.

“To the bus we go, yeah love?”

Sleep still felt like a good idea, until you sat stranded at the bus station, waiting. And waiting.

And waiting.

“You think we’re at the right place?” you ask an amused Hyunjin, looking around at the absence of people.

“I think we are, angel,” he confirms, that annoying smirk of his growing bigger.

You sigh. “Well, then, where is this cursed bus?”

Felix chuckles next to you, crossing his arms over his lean chest. “Should I ask my magic map?”

“Perhaps. Something of yours is bound to answer one of these days.”

Hyunjin barks, laughter bubbling from the pit of his stomach, as he doubles over with it, a coughing fit following soon after. You watch in confused amazement as he recovers, pushing onyx hair out of his face, eyes animated.

“Felix, our appointed Tinker Bell! Should I shake you a little, see if I can wish a private jet?”

You snort at that, leaning back against the plexiglass. “Now you’re thinking.”

“Neither of you are funny.”

“You’re right—we’re hilarious.” You high-five with your partner in crime.

The bus does come eventually, and you board it at once, becoming random passengers in the humdrum of it all, clutching to your destination as tight as you can, delirious with purpose. You sit next to Hyunjin, while Felix becomes friendly with an old woman, offering her a dashing smile and asking if the sit adjoining her was empty.

Of course, it was. For him.

Hyunjin nudges you, chortling, hands clapping soundlessly, like a seal on mute. You smile, throwing a wink toward Felix’s way, before sitting down, and nuzzling into your friend.

“What a heartthrob.”

“Can I show you something, sweetheart?” He took his sketchbook out of the messenger bag between his legs, opening it to a coal full page.

“Hyunjin.” You looked up at him, mouth hanging. His brows rose at your tone, taking in your reaction.

It was Felix. But it was Felix reimagined as Icarus, free falling into a darkly sketched sea, waves cut sharply, menacing, the wings expanding, beautiful but melting, reduced down to candle wax facing against the scorching sun. The face was disappointed, furious in its failing, but somehow peaceful in the fall, like the fate of him and his father’s wings were dawning on him all at the same time.

It somehow managed to catch the innocence of the action, the naivety. The pride of an unsuspecting boy, and his death because of it. The shading of the features, though, the curve of the shoulders—there was adoration laced in this drawing. A knowing that run deep, deeper than you understood, and deeper still. Why would Hyunjin draw this? Was he trying to tell you something?

A boy lost, blinded by ambition. The inevitable falling. It couldn’t be a coincidence…

“Is everything okay, Hyun?” you ask, hand wrapping around his forearm, trying to meet his gaze.

He gave a small, cryptic smile, but said nothing, closing the book, and his eyes with it. Your mind went over the image of the sketch in your head, and then revisited the moment of their hands on the train. Hyunjin had been busy with his exhibition, and Felix was—well, Felix was Felix, doing whatever he pleased, his bank account loaded with zero’s. He travelled, saw the world, met people, and then met some more, always excited, always searching, curious, energetic.

That’s who he was, who he’s always been. And then a terrifying thought struck.

What if Icarus wasn’t really the pale, the bright, but instead the midnight black, the timid? The Felix that couldn’t be held back, and the Hyunjin that is paying for it.

A sinking, a sacrifice.

You stayed like that, chilled, wrapped around the fusing candle, thoughts of quicksand, and hungry Mediterranean waves enveloping you down under.

By the time you reached Sokcho and got in the cab to the Airbnb you’d be staying at, you were exhausted. The sun beating down on you in combination with all the transportation changes had you feeling nauseous, and craving sleep. In an actual bed.

“We have to try the seafood here. There’s a place by the sea.”

Felix kicked the door open, bags in each hand, checking the place out. White, spacious, smelling of bleach and something sweet, fruity. A dining table, adjacent to a small kitchen, and a living room with a decent sized TV. A staircase led to the bedrooms, while a full wall was replaced by a glass, patio door, leading outside to the small yard with the grill and chairs you passed coming inside.

It was beautiful, felt just like summer vacation. You’d only stay for one night, but as was the true twin style, the accommodations were more than satisfactory. Perhaps a bit extra if you might add.

“Don’t look at me, it was Hyunjin’s idea. He’s stayed here before, apparently.”

Hyunjin took the messenger bag he’d been carrying all day off, placing it on the long table, and rounded his arms around your shoulders, locking you into a giant back hug. You stayed like that for a while, his chin resting on the top of your head, looking out into the scenery.

You could see the beach from where you were. It looked to be walkable distance, and Felix had been nonstop talking about that damn clam soup since before you even left, so you gathered whatever energy you had, and started for the bathroom to freshen up.

Until Hyunjin shot a hand out to stop you. You looked at it, looked at him.

“Come here, will you?” This was your first love, speaking to you.

You went, and he took you in his arms again, this time his head on your shoulder, one hand rubbing circles on your back, the other holding your wrist down. Hyunjin had this ability—he could calm you down with one touch. One look. One word. In no way did you have what he had with Felix, but in your own way, you were soulmates. No one got you like he did, and vice versa.

Nothing more, nothing less. Except at times like these, when lines get blurred, when both of you are wallowing in sadness. You’d been fooled this morning, thinking all was alright with him. Seeing him now, next to the blue of the sea, he looked eternally sorrowful.

“What’s wrong with you, Hyun?” you whisper to him, wanting—needing this private time with him.

He knuckled his eye, sighing deeply. “Nothing. Everything.” And you understood. You understood.

“These rooms are huge!” Felix shouted from upstairs. You smiled without meaning to.

Hyunjin did too, but his looked different. It was that special smile reserved only for Lee Felix. “I love him, you know? But he keeps leaving. I will not keep him down.”

“Love isn’t a cage, Hyunjin.”

He leans back to stare at your face. His eyes are tired, face drained. Mask fallen. “You’re wrong, sweetheart. It is the worst kind of cage. I have the key in my hand, and I keep doing this to myself.”

You kiss him, then. A simple kiss, no meaning behind it. It was meant as a comfort, as a ‘I love you, you’re not alone in this.’ He kissed back, and it felt like you were seventeen again, falling in love with him, not knowing what it meant, what it would be.

“Come on.”

You went. You always went.

Cheongchosu Mulheo was a small restaurant, overlooking water. A little bit after lunch time, it remained crammed with people sitting in big groups around metal tables, laughing over Coke and grilled squid. The atmosphere was lively, the outside warm but not unendurable anymore, and your stomach was absolutely growling its way out of your body.

Hyunjin ordered a platter of raw fish, and noodles, enough for three people, and you all decided to drink later, somewhere more quiet, closer to the sea. Drinking at night was healing, an entirely different experience.

“Alright,” Felix turned to you after all the food arrived. His soup had vanished in minutes, and his smile was restored back to the blinding spitting image of the sun. It hurt to look at him straight.

“What would you like to do? It’s pretty early still,” his deep voice couldn’t contain the excitement, the pure delight that travelling, exploring brought him.

“We should check out the market,” Hyunjin suggested, seeing your lost expression. “Perhaps the Port?”

“Sounds great,” you reply, yet have no idea what any of these places are.

You never travel. You could count the trips you’ve taken in one hand—Seoul was a set ship, your job taking most of your time. Bang Chan hoarding the rest.

But no more of that now. No more of him. No more.

Felix leans over the table and waves his hand over your head. You look up at him. He furrows his eyebrows at you, lips in a thin smile.

“Keep the clouds away, love, no time for that.”

Hyunjin’s hand slips into yours underneath the table. You nod between the two of them, repeating the words out loud:

“No time for that.”

The market was not as crowded, many shops already closed for the day, mainly the fish stands, and some tiny restaurants. You passed a few places selling teokbokki and sliced fruit in bowls, colorful banners hanging all around you, big letters in italics and exclamation marks inviting you left and right. Hyunjin had totally bought into everything, observing, and engaging in conversation with the people.

For no reason at all, you now had a bag of potatoes, and green onions from a friendly grandma that insisted her items were of the best quality and the lowest price. There were other things too—hair accessories, and bracelets, toys, and clothes. Felix picked up a cute claw clip in blue, and pulled Hyunjin’s hair back with it, stepping back to see how it looked on him. Hyunjin modeled for it. The selling couple laughed at the silly poses and gave it to you for free. After thanking them, the three of you got a serving of squid sausage that seemed especially appetizing, after Felix exclaimed rather dramatically that he’s never tried it before.

“(Y/N) how about this dress?!” A maxi floral dress in dark blue, with a peter pan collar, three times your size.

You giggled, but put it on your body, extending your leg, looking at the boys through your eyelashes.

“Exquisite, sweetheart,” Hyunjin commented lovingly, hands still busy with the claw clip.

“Wear it for tonight! Here, I’ll wear this!” Felix snatched a leather vest from the pile of clothes, passing it through his arms. “How about it?”

You and Hyunjin nodded, slowly, marveling at the piece of fabric swallowing your friend whole. “It’s…something, for sure.”

Felix laughed, not a care in the world. “I’m buying it.”

And that was how you three left that local market, each carrying something new, ridiculous in the way happiness feels after a long episode of numb, numb, numb. A season passed amongst dull, grey buildings and customer service, sinking in self-pity, and wishing something, anything, would change, take this weight off your heart, and kickstart it, give you a small push—or a whole kick to the gut—anything if it got you moving, and out of that room.

The kick ended up being Hwang Hyunjin throwing the covers off and grabbing your hand, but it felt all the same at the end. As long as the veil lifted, the clouds dispersed.

It was a sixteen-minute walk from where you were to the Domyeong Port, and you took your time, enjoying the scenery, eating the spicy snack you’d bought with toothpicks. The sound of the waves crashing on shore, a slight breeze blowing your hair away from your face, horns of Vespa’s and pickup trucks alarming you every so often—it was getting hard to differentiate between dream and reality, the endless blue and smell of salt in the air, and the other side, the town, the reminder of people around you, their yelling and jostling. The time on your phone said a bit after six in the afternoon, and yet you swore time did not exist, was not a concept in your own little made-up world, with the boys made of magic, and your friendship bracelets.

Was the wind blowing through you or around you? Were the people all the same, backdrop to your invisible soap bubble with the rainbow edges, held together by spells and soulmate rings or were they talking to each other, individuals with their own voice and life, decisions and choices taking them from one place to the next?

Were you to finally take ahold of the wheel of your story, accept it as it is, and forget about anything that doesn’t turn the pages forward, anything that holds you back? Is it really that simple?

Looking out at sea, watching the waves—it is. It is.

Hyunjin is busy taking pictures with his gigantic, professional camera, while Felix ties his shoelaces, and you realize you’ve reached the Port. The big rocks running across the path to the fishing boats that are floating side by side, a barely visible skerry in the stretch of boundless blue that Felix points out to you.

You’re overtaken with nostalgia, memories of summer vacations when you were a child flashing through your mind, photographs in sepia, the same boats floating, the same shade of blue, the salt in your face, the wind transporting—you feel like crying. You feel like laughing. You feel like running to the lighthouse all the way on the end of the dock.

You take off, the boys yelling after you.

“Be careful, will you?” Hyunjin shouts, a smile evident in his tone.

“Why are we running?!” Felix laughing, angels rejoicing, clouds parting, skies clear.

“Why not?” you answer, your voice suspended in the air, cutting through the silence of the port.

The Lighthouse is monumental, you feel microscopic next to it, but you don’t let it faze you, instead you climb the stairs up to it, hoping for a door, hoping you can see the beacon from up close, see how far it reaches, let the luminescence of it wash over you, wrap around you and carry you over the waves, over the rock islet, past the horizon, further and further, oceans away, until you are transformed, until you too are nothing but light, helping, guiding the way.

It won’t happen, of course, not how you want, the sun is still high up in the sky, the moon barely showing its head, and the Lighthouse does not accept visitors on a Sunday, a sign with black capital letters tells you.

You’re panting by that point, breathing labored, and you double over, hands on your knees, inhaling deeply, shamelessly. The boys reach the top of the stairs a few minutes later, collapsing on the last step, lying their heads on the dirt path.

“I am never running again,” Hyunjin states, fingers clenching his heart.

“You can’t deny—it felt good—right?” More heavy breathing.

“Hyunjin—take a picture. This is beautiful!” Felix steals the camera, snapping a picture as he’s sprawled over the stairs, forehead shiny with sweat, pearly white teeth in display.

The black-haired man has his eyes closed, focusing on the sounds surrounding you.

“Do you hear it?”

“What?”

“Siberian stonechats. Listen.”

The chirps invaded your ears with a sharpness unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. It was nowhere, and then it was everywhere, it was all around you, there were so many birds, all up in trees, flying over bushes, and then more, different kinds, over the coastline, so very alive, demanding to be heard.

“How do you know their name?” Felix asks, amazed by the clear sound.

“My dad liked birdwatching.”

The incantation breaks. Liked—past tense for a person who’s passed, who’s not here anymore. Someone who’s elsewhere, beyond. You look at the hair sprawled, the messenger bag on his hip, the arm over his eyes, and you think it hasn’t been long for him either. And yet here he is, and yet he moved on before the hole turned poisonous, before it swallowed him down under, before it trapped him in a room and locked the door.

Something protruding from the pier caught your eye. It looked like a pavilion, along the coastline, red with a traditional looking rooftop. Felix noticed it as soon as you did.

“We should go,” he told you, and you agreed.

“Help me pick the body up.”

With his help, you brough Hyunjin back on his feet, dusting him off. Wasting no time, he immediately caught both of you in headlocks, pulling you against him. Felix surrendered, but you fought back, tickling his sides as the three of you descended the stairs, making your way to the pier.

“Let’s watch the sunset there.”

“Deal.”

Yeonggeumjeong was the name of it, Hyunjin informed you. He’d gone there once, two years ago, to find inspiration for his paintings. When he went back to Seoul, he was busy for a whole month. Then, finally, around Christmas time, he had his first exhibition.

That’s where you’d seen it before. The bridge to get to the pavilion was beautiful, coming to a curve in the middle, a few couples scattered, leaning over the railings. The couples again. You didn’t know why it was so triggering to you, and this time you waved your own hands over the clouds. You were on a mission here, a mission that had been orchestrated, and you wouldn’t let your efforts, your friend’s efforts, be dissipated by the mere sight of love.

You would stop letting love scare you to a corner. You would open the windows, allow it to flow from everywhere, welcome it inside for tea, a familiar thing that had once been essential for you, for your existence. No more of this frightening, of this hesitancy to acknowledge, to face.

What was the truth—Chan hadn’t contacted you in months. Chan had ended it, because there were three people, not two. Three, so more than a couple, which meant no space. Someone had to go, and even though you weren’t the one doing the leaving, weren’t the one severing ties, doing the hard part, staying felt to you a worse punishment than death.

Staying in love. A graveyard made entirely by being the one left behind. Perhaps that was the fear itself.

Hyunjin accompanied the waving, long fingers picking the stubborn clouds one by one and flicking them off, far away from you. He smiled down at you, moons for orbs, pressing a kiss on your forehead after the hourly ceremony was over, and caught both yours and Felix’s hands, walking you over to the edge of the pavilion.

The beach stretched for miles, sand wider than a highway, people waiting to bear witness to the sunset, feel a little closer to God through the marvel of nature, and all its abilities to appear otherworldly, separate from humans.

“We should rent a car,” Felix spoke, leaning against the railing. “Teach us how to drive, love.”

You eyed him. “Where? I don’t feel like going to jail today.”

“Here,” his hand gestured at the beach. “I trust my teacher.”

The sky was a thousand colors, all blending into each other, and from the corner of your eye you caught Hyunjin taking a seat at the bench in the middle of the decorative building, legs crossed, sketchbook open on top, pencils already in motion. You let him be, figuring now is the time of the painter, the magic crenscendoing to its peak, God collaborating.

You’d take one picture, just one. To remember everything as it was right at that moment; Felix in the background, the couple, always the couple, photobombing on the far left, and you— cloudless, in the center, weightless against the wind, at peace with the unknown at least for that one singular second in time.

Then and then gone. Always.

When it finally happened—the oranges and lilacs replaced by dark hues of blue, moon white in its phantom form, Hyunjin awakening, lifting the blanket of mystical inspiration—there were no words to describe the aloofness in your chest. You didn’t feel quite corporeal, taken away by the actions of the day. Your body was tired, but your mind worked overtime, refusing to let go, to give up, and in its struggle, exhausting you beyond reason. You almost collapsed on the stoned bridge, Felix holding you up by the arm.

“Are you okay?” Voice full of worry.

“Yeah. Yes.”

“We should head back,” Hyunjin’s eyes pierced through you. “Rest for a bit.”

“I’ll call a cab.”

With Felix on the phone, walking ahead, your knees gave way, hands finding your face. Hyunjin didn’t seem surprised, instead squatting in front of you, waiting meekly, guiding people around you with a kind smile. He’s used to this, knows you better than himself sometimes.

“No time for this, yeah?”

You exhale shakily, hiding still. “I know.”

“You’re overwhelmed,” a statement, tone kept calm, steady.

“I need a drink,” you huff out a laugh, peeking through your fingers. You see his lips, the curve of them.

“Yeah,” the word drawls, his head nods. “Sweetheart, I love you, alright?” You feel his fingers around your wrist, there as a comfort, not to pull, not to reveal. “This isn’t you, and you know this. Fight it.”

“I’m tired, Hyunjin.” Finally, the eyes meet. And he understands, he sees it in himself as well. “Somedays I can’t even physically—move. I can’t fucking move.”

His fingers tighten, his handsome features softening. “Because he still matters.” You nod, cheeks wet, green ribbon swaying with the breeze. “He always will. But, angel, let me tell you this. If you do not move—you will die. I can’t let that happen. Not to you.”

It seems Hwang Hyunjin will always be pulling you to your feet, always shun the rain away. He’s better at grief than you. Better at a lot of things. Concealing, especially, but you wouldn’t dare be the first to bring it up. You let yourself cling to him, wishing it will be the last time. If you could just do it this one time, and then you’ll figure out a way to be stronger, move on from this.

The drive was a full twenty minutes back to the house, and with dusk officially covering everything with its thick layer of half-darkness, there was no reason to pretend anymore. While the two boys took turns showering, you slept, tears continuing to fall out of you, dress sticking to your body. Felix stared at your figure curled up on the couch, and threw a blanket over you, telling Hyunjin not to wake you until after they’d got ready.

“Have you talked to him at all?”

“A week ago,” the taller one replied indifferently, slipping into baggy jeans. “He’d gone to Australia.”

“He came back yesterday,” Felix informed him. “He called me because he visited my parents.”

Hyunjin nods, jaw clenching. “Good for him.”

Felix stopped him mid movement, forcing him to look into his eyes. “I know you’re angry. She didn’t deserve any of it, and he still hasn’t apologized. I know.”

Hyunjin shrinks, can’t be mad at the pale haired boy with the freckles to save his life. He kisses him, fast and rough. “I’m sorry, this has nothing to do with you.”

Felix wears the oversized leather vest, smiles at the memory from earlier today. “You still love her. I get it, Jin.”

Hyunjin freezes, hadn’t thought it was obvious to anyone but himself. He’d tried really hard to make it come across as platonic—you were his oldest friend, after all. But you were more than that, and you’d always be. The protectiveness he felt over you never seemed to go away, so eventually he gave up on resisting it. But it didn’t mean anything; he loved you, yes, with all of his heart, but he wasn’t in love with you. Felix owned him by soul. It was fucked, but it worked for him, and that’s all that mattered.

“I just never thought Bang Chan would go back on his word. He didn’t strike me the type.”

They both stopped talking about it as soon as they heard you move up the stairs. But in Hyunjin’s mind, it wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be over until that fucker was on his knees, begging for you to take him back.

God knows you won’t live without him.

Renting a car had been easy. Felix paid to have it for the entire rest of the night, and you’d gone to pick it up with the employee. You couldn’t quite believe it until you saw it—an Audi convertible, probably the nicest car in the parking lot. Tinker Bell was fucking crazy for this.

In any case, you wouldn’t complain. It felt nice to know you wouldn’t have to wait for taxi cabs anymore. You just hoped the boys would take it easy, something easier said than done. You pulled in front of the rental place, honking at the both of them standing right outside, staring at their phones.

“Get in, lovebirds.”

You’d forget. For tonight, you’d live.

Felix hopped in, while Hyunjin at least had the decency to open the door. With him in the passenger seat, you felt reassured. Everything would be okay. Putting the car in drive, you repeated that, over and over, the night air feeling good against your face. Streetlights glinting, you sped through the roads, going for the beach.

Hyunjin put a slow song on, a jazzy guitar playing as the soundtrack to this dreamlike vacation to Sokcho. You had to pinch yourself at a red light, just to feel real again. Felix was singing along to the lyrics, while the black-haired boy secured his locks up and away from his face with the blue clip from the market.

“Who wants to try first?” You asked once you pulled to the docks, slowing down for the rest of the way to the sandy ground.

“I think you know the answer to that,” Hyunjin tilted his head towards the beam of sunshine in the back.

Felix all but squealed. “Aw, me, really? You didn’t have to—but okay!”

You shake your head, laughing at the way he climbs to the front seat as you move to the back. “Alright, it’s fairly easy. This is an automatic, so you only have to worry about driving and reversing. Parking is the P all the way to the top, yup, that’s the one. Gently press on the brake, while you put the car back to D. Yes, and then just very lightly press on the gas—FELIX!”

You were gone. You knew you shouldn’t have trusted him, that boy run on a sugar rush at all times. You tried to guide him, tell him to slow down, but he was too busy having the time of his life, drifting, and doing donuts in the flat sand, tornadoes of dust swirling all around you. Hyunjin held on for dear life but was laughing the hardest out of the three of you.

“Fucking hell, Lix, you’re a natural!”

“I fucking told you!”

You drove all the way to the Lighthouse and back, the landmark stealing your breath at night, the light you’d wished to become part of now shining bright under the myriad of stars, winking down at you.

You let go, then, head falling back, as you held onto your seat belt; tiny you in the universe, in a car with two boys you absolutely adored, possibly about to die—but it all felt like blue fire. It couldn’t possibly burn you—injure you, maybe, but you felt invisible, then. Untouchable. The sound of your screams made your heart swell in ways it hasn’t for the longest time.

You welcomed it. You let go. As simple as that.

“Let’s go drink!” Felix suggested, coming to a sudden stop. You almost hit your head on the back of his seat, but even then, you were too drunk on adrenaline to even register the danger of it all.

“Love of my fucking life, Lee Felix,” Hyunjin declared, bringing the freckled boy in for a kiss.

The smile on your face stretched so wide your cheeks hurt for the entire ride to the restaurant. Being back on the wheel brought you back down to Earth, your sanity soothed. It was only a five-minute ride, the place being on the other end of the beach, the only restaurant directly next to the sea. Tables placed on top of the sand, with an orange tent to cut the course of the wind, you were glad Hyunjin had suggested it.

“Finally, my clam soup,” Felix was jittery from the car ride still, his knee bouncing against the plastic table, shaking the utensils that had been laid out for you.

“Soju or meokgolli?” Hyunjin asked you two, smiling politely at the old lady that came for your order.

“Soju with beer,” you suggest, and his eyes lit up.

“You’re talking my language, sweetheart,” he slid his arm across the table, to you. You took his hand, playing with the ring on his index. “Two bottles please, and we’d also like…”

Waiting for everything, you watched as Felix documented everything; the dark sea, the tent, zooming in to catch the name of the small restaurant. And then again, when the drinks and appetizers came, he took pictures of those too, turning the phone around to snap a selfie of the three of you. You waved your chopsticks to it, in the middle of chewing. Hyunjin made a peace sign, his smile that of a sleepy cat.

“Oh my God,” you pointed at the sweet potato. “Try this!”

You hadn’t realized how much you were starving. You didn’t even touch your drinks, too focused on wiping the plates clean. When the main dishes came—buckwheat noodles with squid, the much-awaited clam soup, and Red Snow crab— you wasted no time to devour it all, the sound of waves crushing on shore accompanying your every bite.

“This night calls for a toast, don’t you think?” Hyunjin raised his glass. “To us, being together in this very moment.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Felix approved. “To us!”

“To us,” you joined in, smiling affectionately at them.

The cicadas felt like part of you, their noise incessant, the night warm. You’d easily went through the two bottles, ordering more, Hyunjin teaching you how to shake soju, and mix it in the beer. It was funny—he wasn’t usually the drinking type, his limit preventing him from getting drunk. And yet it felt like tonight would be an exception because tonight wasn’t real—you refused to believe, even after everything you’ve done to ensure you’re not hallucinating. After all, you couldn’t possibly have nice things like this—you didn’t feel deserving enough.

Alcohol made you emotional. Perhaps you should’ve thought twice about downing so much of it so quick. But with these people, two of your childhood friends—you felt the most comfortable you’ve felt since the breakup. You can’t even remember the reason you kept them at a distance for so long. Sadness should be shared, to lessen the burden.

“…so, I told Seungmin he shouldn’t move in with him if he doesn’t like cats this much,” Hyunjin was telling the story of doomed roommates. Felix was snorting beer through his nostrils. “But you know him and his ‘It will all work out,’ so I dropped it because he’s stubborn as fuck, but now apparently, he has a cat allergy! My guy.”

“No!” your mouth falls open. “Shouldn’t he move out then?”

Felix is slamming his hand on the table, wheezing. “That’s such a Kim Seungmin predicament.”

Hyunjin widens his eyes in emphasis and crosses his legs. “Right?! But no, he says the rent is too ideal to give up on the apartment. Plus, having a roommate is convenient.”

“Oh, well then. Serves him right. I remember when I was roommates with Chan. He kept everything so neat and tidy, I was actually so scared of making a mess.”

And then the realization of what he said. Of whom he mentioned. Felix’s mouth snapping shut, gaze apologetic, Hyunjin scowling at him. Your smile froze but did not disappear. You wanted to tell him it was okay, this much was okay, but you’d be lying straight to his face.

Lying to someone you love—it didn’t feel right. Not to you. To other people it came as easy as breathing. You caught the petty, bitter turn your thoughts were taking, and finished your drink at once, forking some squid.

“It’s been three months,” you comment, but it sounds wrong, and they both catch the dejected tone, so you curl into yourself, and then you’re biting your lip.

Before you know it, the tears come again.

“Is he even okay? I haven’t—he hasn’t called me once. I was his friend, too.”

Felix fills up your glass, and Hyunjin hands you napkins, getting up to come sit next to you, rubbing soothing circles on your back. You haven’t cried in front of them about this once, and yet today you can’t stop doing it. Was this why you barely met with them in the months following the Heartbreak? Because you felt embarrassed?

“He’s fine,” the blonde-haired boy assures you. “But fuck him, love. You’re not.”

Everything looked a blur through your wet eyes. You wiped them in hopes they’d stop, but they just—kept—coming. You didn’t want any pity, you fucking hated feeling sorry for yourself, and yet how else were you supposed to feel? If it wasn’t for that, you’d feel nothing. Somehow that’s even more horrifying than sympathy.

“Drink, will you? I said fuck him. He messes with you; he messes with all of us. She wasn’t even fucking worth it—they never even got together.”

“I thought we’d never break up. I’ve known him for so long…he was all I’d known. Felix, how can you do this to someone and not even care?”

“He does care,” Hyunjin speaks this time. “I swear to you, he does. But caring is not enough, angel. Not always.”

You drink to that. You stay like that for a while, quiet, each with your own thoughts, observing the invisible waves, trying to make them out through the shadowiness, until Felix breaks the silence, suggests a game.

“How about twenty questions? Adult edition?” He wiggles his eyebrows, a rainbow after a nasty thunderstorm.

You crack a smile, and Hyunjin exhales deeply in his seat, thinking there’s still hope for you tonight.

“Adult as in sexual experiences or adult as in bottomless fucking pit of despair?” he questions.

“Both. I need therapy.”

“Me, too, baby.”

“Me three,” you reply as well. You all look at each other—and laugh.

It starts drizzling.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin rubs his face raw, stretching his long arms upwards. “We’re too young to be this fucked up.”

“Fucking tell me about it,” you finish another drink, dabbing the napkin in your hand on the edges of your eyes. “I’ll go first. Felix—what’s your favorite memory with us?”

Felix ponders over it for a short minute. “Graduation day. The party Changbin threw for us,” he looks at Hyunjin. The older boy nods, remembering. “You guys were still together, and I remember officiating your fake wedding in the backyard, drunk out of my mind.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hyunjin smiles. “Remember the ring pop?” he asks you.

“I do. I kept the wrapper.”

“If you can’t beat them, join then,” the freckled boy mused, twirling the contents of his glass.

“He was so in love with you,” you tell your fake husband. “The hoodie you’d left at my house after the senior field trip? He wore it every time he came over. It smelled nothing like you by that point, but—you still have it, don’t you?”

Felix nods, a blush creeping up his neck. “I love you for never freaking out on me about it.”

You giggle, feeling loose. “Why would I? You guys are made for each other.”

Hyunjin takes a straight shot of soju at that, wiping his mouth after. His face is somber, eyes dark. You change the subject, knowing the reason for his demeanor.

“My turn,” Felix grins devilishly. “Jin—have you ever painted (Y/N) naked?”

You choke on sweet potato, and Hyunjin hits your back, endeared by the question.

“Huh…have I?” he pretends to think, though you already know the answer. “Was it for your birthday? Should I continue?” he turns to his other half.

“Be my guest. I did ask.”

“Can I tell, sweetheart? We’re all mature here, aren’t we?” his hand is on your thigh, and it reminds you of the times before.

“Of course. It’s only Felix.”

“I fucked you on top of the dryer and filled your hair with flowers from the bouquet I got you. Then you sat naked for me for two hours until I was done with the outline of your body and let me fuck you again after I was finished.”

“Fuck me,” Felix rasped, his voice considerably deeper, imagining the scene.

You blushed. “It sounds way more brass than it really was.”

“No, it doesn’t. I say this in the most respectful way—no girl will ever do it for me like you did.”

You squirm in your seat. “That was years ago, Hyunjin,” you try to reason.

He nods, seeing your point, and fixes himself another glass of beer. “And yet I’m sitting next to you, even when the boy I love is right here.”

Felix says nothing but drinks a lot. You can’t tell if this excites him or is making him jealous.

“Hyunjin.”

“(Y/N).”

“Stop it,” you demand, your defenses weak. “You’re being mean.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you, swallowing the cold alcohol. “Mean? He knows.”

“It’s true.” You turn to the blonde’s indecipherable tone. “He’d never hurt me like that.”

You sit back in your chair, sensing an entirely different game has started now. “We’re going to need more alcohol for this.”

Hyunjin smirks at you and calls for the lady.

“Let me ask you, sweetheart—does Bang Chan fuck better than I do?”

“What are you playing at?”

“It’s a simple question.” His eyes are burning holes through you.

This could set you off—take you places you haven’t even dared go to in months. The way Chris fucked…sometimes it was fucking, but most of the time…most of the time you made love. You’re sure Hyunjin knows the difference, but since he’s never done that with you, since the love has never run as deep, has never taken such an ugly turn, he knows nothing of what he speaks. Chan touched your very soul every time he was inside of you, just thinking about it could destroy everything you’ve build against him, to keep him out, to keep you sane—

“You’re not pitting yourself against him. Next question.”

“He’s no competition for me, I’m not fighting for your heart, angel—but neither is he, yeah?”

That shouldn’t have hurt. But it fucking did.

“Jin,” Felix warned.

“No, she needs this,” he snapped at him. “Tell me.”

“You’re different,” you give in, tears brimming. “Would you say me and Felix are the same? We’re not.”

“What’s the difference?” he asks you, curious. Already knowing.

“Besides the obvious?” Felix mutters to himself.

“He’s of your soul, as Chan is of mine,” you admit to yourself.

Hyunjin seems content with your answer. “And yet you doubt his return? You think he’ll never come back.”

“He doesn’t know,” you say stubbornly. “Why would he leave otherwise?”

“Oh,” Felix inhales sharply. You look at him. “Love…have you ever thought you might terrify him?”

Hyunjin points his finger at the blonde. “You think a love like ours is a walk in the park, sweetheart? Sometimes I feel like splitting myself open.”

“Like shooting myself in the leg,” Felix continues.

“But we’ve known each other since before we knew what a boner was,” the boy sitting next to you explains. “Chan barely just found you…in the grand scheme of time, two years is nothing at all.”

It felt like an excuse. And yet you knew these boys were not on his side—they weren’t on anyone’s side, they just said things as they were. And this might just be the truth you needed all along. But for the empty space he’s left, you need to move on for the very sake of your heart; so, life expands from the small room with the door—so the windows open and stay open.

You were lost again. Point zero.

“What do I do with this information?” you ask, pleading.

Hyunjin feeds you, placing a hand under the fork. You accept the food, chewing slowly.

“You wait. You sit with us.”

“And you drink,” Felix adds with a wink.

A little past midnight, the drizzling turns into full on rain as you leave the restaurant. Your car is parked on the other side of the street, but the alcohol in your system makes you feel miles away from it. And you’re the most sober of the three of you.

The old lady offers to call a taxi for you, but Hyunjin politely refuses, holding Felix upwards. He blows her a kiss, bowing deeply. She shakes her head, but the smile on her face betrays her. No one can resist Hwang Hyunjin—his charm is undeniably irresistible.

“Get in!” you usher them, laughing, pressing the button to close the roof of the car. It takes them a while and a lot of stumbling, but they make it in the drenched backseat, where the dark-haired boy lays Mr. Sunshine on his side, and then proceeds to plop in the seat next to you, climbing his way to the front. Drunk logic, you think, but you can’t even personally find the hole to insert the key.

You sit staring at the steering wheel, praying to somehow sober up, even a little, so you don’t crash and die. This car will be a lot of money. But then again—these two idiots have that. Money. A lot of that.

“Hey, (Y/N), question for you—what do you think about me?” Felix slurs.

Cute, you faintly think. “Forest pixie,” you say out loud.

“Oh. Is that so? At least I upgraded from Tinker Bell.”

“Ha, no, you didn’t. You’re still mine,” Hyunjin says, and hiccups.

“That I am,” Felix giggles.

“What about me? What do you think about me, sweetheart?”

That hand on your thigh, again. The rain hitting against the windshield is making you sleepy. You start the car before it’s too late. Hyunjin plays music—this time it’s lo-fi.

“The whole fucking forest, Hwang Hyunjin,” you admit as you pull out of the parking spot. “All of it.”

He puts the hazard lights on, and you drive at twenty miles per hour, everything turning watercolor outside. You’re very aware of the fingers tapping your skin over the thin fabric of your dress, very aware of the alcohol running through your bloodstream—you think you might do something stupid.

You grip the wheel with both hands, force yourself to focus on the road. There’s barely anyone around at this hour, not in this side of town. The sound of your blinkers fills the entire car, Felix’s soft snores blending with the droplets on your windshield. Magic hour.

The time to swallow your heart and cover your ears. Anything alive will touch back now. Be careful.

“Should I stop now?” the only boy awake spoke. “Pretending? Should I stop?”

You take the turn, drive the straight line that comes, wish for the car to turn into a boat, the rain into river, so you can float, away away away—

“He’s leaving, isn’t he?” The truth. The only truth.

There are no words to follow it. Nothing he can say. So, he cries. He could drown you all if he wanted to, so big his sadness—the sadness shared, the sadness burdened into two—you cannot unsee it once you know. Do not dare.

And where to put it? Where to put it?

“Don’t you think you should address it at some point?”

“And risk him hating me forever? I’d rather burn myself alive.”

You put your signal on. Stop at the side of the road. You cannot stand his tears, cannot stand his despair. You get out. The rain seeps through your clothes, drips from your hair, and you run. Towards the sand, towards the waves that feel like the night sky in motion, and then you halt, sniffling, wiping your face.

Perhaps you’ve gone crazy. Perhaps you’re only drunk. No matter. No matter at all.

“You’ll catch a cold, angel.”

You’re shivering, and he’s right, but you don’t care. You thought lying to yourself wasn’t an option. For him to do this, it was hypocrisy—it was treachery.

“You’re ignoring your own heart and it will betray you, you’ll see. What good will it do if you wait one more day? One more month? You cannot prevent the inevitable, Hyunjin—I tried, okay? It doesn’t work.”

You don’t look at him. He doesn’t look at you, either. These words are too personal, cut through the magic into reality, somewhere the both of you cannot bare return to.

“I don’t know how to live without him.”

“Well, what are you going to do? Die? Because if so, let me go first, Hyunjin. I’ve been suffering longer than you have.”

His body slams on yours, knocking the very breath out of you. It’s a desperate attempt for closeness, but you get it. He needs this, needs a hug, a fucking hug, and you know what? You need it, too, as plain as it sounds. To know you’re not alone. To know it will be okay.

Your stomach is turning, twisting, and flipping on itself, uncomfortable with all the misery—so you spill out. You cannot forget, but you can cry, so you do.

You cry together, embracing in your shared wretchedness. His arms envelop you whole, take you down. Together you lay in the wet sand— a problem for later.

Sokcho is beautiful in all of its water. All it did today was wash away, clean, reveal.

You cannot forget, but you don’t think you have to. Not anymore.

#stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #felix scenarios #stray kids #skz hyunjin #skz felix #kpop scenarios #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids felix #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin x reader #felix x reader #—mine.

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rosemaze-reveries · 2 years

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oomf and I were throwing around ideas about this and thinking about miss chloe got me ill 🫣 she’s sick she’s sick she’s si

Vera contracting hanahaki disease 💐

⚠️ CW: obsessive love. you don’t reciprocate her love & she can’t cope with that 🤪

⚜ Vera has always been fond of flower fortune telling, and she often infuses lucky flowers into her perfumes. She finds it bitterly ironic when she begins to cough up marguerite daisy petals. This flower has hardly any use in perfume, as it’s not very fragrant — but plucking its petals in dozens of games of love me, love me not has left her very familiar with them.

⚜ She very rarely makes appearances in public, so she’s not concerned about being discreet. Her maids sweep the trails of petals that litter the halls every day and there’s never a mess to worry about. They only dread the days you visit because the minute you leave, Vera’s frustrations spill out like waterfalls.

⚜ Despite that, her symptoms do ease up when you’re around. You may not “love” her in the same way she does, but your concern for her wellbeing is enough to keep her flowers in check. If you happen to ask about them, she’ll act as if her unrequited love is for someone else.

⚜ It’s when she’s alone that the tears resurface and she violently coughs up all of her pent-up yearning. Many nights are spent draped over the side of her bed, clutching her mouth in agony. Petals are sprinkled all over her sheets. Her maids bring her hot towels and tea, but there’s little they can do to soothe her.

⚜ She spritzes herself with her working Euphoria formula daily. Anything for a little moment of peace. But this doesn’t work exactly as she wishes, and so she turns to address the root of her problem: your failure to love her back.

⚜ She begins to tinker with a new recipe — a “love potion” perfume, which she mixes her daisies into alongside other aphrodisiac notes. They may not be very fragrant, but there’s no better ingredient for something like this than the physical manifestation of her love 💐 One spritz and you should fall all over her... ideally.

⚜ She leaves some dried petals at the bottom of the bottle, and as she sprinkles them inside, she plays her favorite game again: you love her a little, you love her lots... you love her passionately... madly... not at all... a little... a lot... on repeat. She has a neverending stream of petals to count, but naturally she ends on “madly”. For reassurance, perhaps.

⚜ You think nothing of it when she gives a sample of this love potion to you. Any work of Vera’s is bound to be of enchanting quality, and this is no different. She asks that you try it in front of her, keeping a close eye on your facial expressions while anxiously biting the tip of her finger.

⚜ No immediate success? You’re not collapsing at her feet begging for her? She grows more and more desperate with every passing second. What will it take for you to love her?

⚜ There comes a point when she can’t hide her coughing at all around you; your presence doesn’t give her temporary relief anymore. You pity her, but this illness is tragic that way. There’s nothing a friend can do except hope her love might someday be reciprocated. Vera feels like ripping out her hair.

⚜ Her confession appears only when she’s at her wit’s end. Bitter that everyone she loves keeps “betraying” her in some way, it sounds less like a love confession and more like an accusation for ailing her. This is all your fault, she tells you through tears and matted hair — if you would only hold her the same way she dreams of holding you, then she would be free of her torment.

⚜ Despite this aggression, ultimately she does cherish you. And so she collapses to her knees after her outburst and lets you make your own decision. She even offers Euphoria to you, albeit bitterly, as a means to forget the guilt (…if you have any) — or in case this disease might take her life.

#identity v #idv imagines #vera nair #chloe nair #perfumer #idv perfumer #perfumer x you #perfumer x reader #vera x you #vera x reader #vera nair x you #vera nair x reader #hanahaki #hanahaki disease

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sapphireginger · 10 months

Text

At Our Ex-Spence: Chapter #6

Summary:

“The only thing I ask of you is that you not reveal anything to your brother at this time. When—Not if—When he learns, it must be at the proper time. I believe only you can ignite his spark.”

Stiles blinks slowly, his brain feeling heavy with all the information but then he straightens up. “He needs to know sooner rather than later.” He’s angry that he isn’t allowed to tell Stuart about the supernatural yet. He’s even angrier he hasn’t already been told.

Klarysa is calm when she replies, “If you could live without the knowledge…would you go back into ignorance?”

“You and your brother were born Mieszko Gemini Gajos and Mikolaj Genim Gajos respectively. We nicknamed you Miko and Mika. Spencer did actually even though he was only four.

"When you were born, we immediately knew you were a spark. As soon as your brother was born, we knew he was as well and then came the most pressing issue. It was known that sparks, as rare as they are, would always be targets for hunters, supes and the like. Now add to that the fact that you were twin sparks? You were in danger. The plan was for you and Stuart to have your sparks in abeyance until you were reunited. However, it seems that the ritual the druid had you participate in, awoke your spark early.

“Because of this, Stuart’s is still inactive, waiting to be ignited, while yours is not. This is why when you met during class, he was not ignited. This poses a problem. Stuart is not in the know and neither is Ally. This wasn’t the plan, but it has thus far been the best course of action.

“The years after your birth were tough on your mother. I could no longer visit as I was raising your brother and my own son. We never told him and yet he knows he’s not my son. There is a fine line we’ve had to walk that now with your presence we can afford to step to the side we’ve been working towards. With your help and support, we can ignite his spark.

“He won’t take it well; we know this but truly his safety and yours was ensured and we don’t regret it. I felt it when your mother died. It was as if a piece of my soul died as well. Your father never knew of what you and your brother are nor what Klaudiya was, but he did know there was another child. I do not know why you were not told. Perhaps he feared you’d come to me, but I cannot do anything other than guess as to his intentions.

“Spencer has always been extremely intelligent, and Stuart followed that like a puppy. It’s why your brother chose the FBI. I believe you chose it because of your father. We knew you would meet, and I had to make sure you were all in one piece, physically, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. After cleansing the traces left behind by the chaos demon, I can say for certain you are all in one piece. Especially now that you have your mate.

“From this day forth, things will change for you. We are lucky indeed, that the radicals, bigots and hell raisers are dealt with. You don't have to fear them or worry about anything. This is not Beacon Hills. Here there is blood family that will support you fully.

“I will teach you to use your spark and I will train you. You will find your senses heightened more, your agility improved, and your mind settled. Untrained magic will cause things like the signs of ADHD. You will now no longer display such symptoms.

“The only thing I ask of you is that you not reveal anything to your brother at this time. When—Not if—When he learns, it must be at the proper time. I believe only you can ignite his spark.”

Klarysa is calm when she replies, “If you could live without the knowledge…would you go back into ignorance?”

He sets his jaw and shakes his head. “No. Those not in the know are in just as much danger if not more so. They don’t know what to look out for.”

Peter puffs his chest out in pride.

Spencer himself is impressed and Klarysa smiles softly.

“What?” Stiles snaps, uncertain all of a sudden. His resolve however doesn’t waver.

Klarysa just shakes her head. “Your mother would be so proud of you.”

Stiles blushes and tears up but refuses to let the tears fall. “Thanks. Now about Stuart…”

“He will learn in time. You must be patient. Because your spark was awoken early, his has to be awoken carefully and delicately. It would have been easier to have you reunited and ignited at the same time.”

Stiles shakes his head, his eyes burning like amethyst galaxies. “So, we just continue to hide it from him?” he asks, his voice shaking with rage. “That’s not right and he’ll be hurt.”

Spencer shifts back and raises a placating hand to the fired up spark. “Yes, little cousin. It is true and believe me we don’t want to hide it, but imagine a fuse being lit and suddenly there is no water, nothing but accelerant. What happens when the fuse reaches the end?”

“Boom,” Stiles breathes out as he shudders. “Okay. Got it. No telling Stuart.” He fixes a steely look on his aunt. “Yet but soon.”

She nods and offers a small smile. “You will know when the time is right, Miko. Wierzy, że.”

Stiles stands up. “I need time. Spencer can send me your number and stuff, but I want to go home and uh…” he trails off and glances at Peter. “A-And cuddle my wolf.” His gaze alights on his cousin. “Can I go?”

Spencer nods after confirming with his aunt. “Yes. I’ll see you in class tomorrow.”

“Maybe,” Stiles mumbles. “If I don’t like sleep in because my brain is in an information overload and still buffering when it’s time to get ready.”

Neither his aunt nor his cousin replies but some instinct leads him to kiss his aunt’s cheek, nod his head at Spencer and then turn to walk out the front door.

Peter stands up and follows right behind him. He hears their exchange though before he closes the door.

“That could have gone better,” Spencer mutters softly.

Klarysa chuckles. “It could have gone worse.” She pauses and then huffs in amusement. “Go on now, Peter Wilk.”

Peter skedaddles after his mate who is already at the gate which opens with a loud clang. His arms are loose at his sides, but his hands are clenching and unclenching, an air of static frenetic energy hovering around him.

Peter tilts his head as he gets closer and this time, he can’t help startling when the gate clangs shut behind them.

“Are you coming?” Stiles asks with a glance over his shoulder.

The wolf swallows the want pooling in his mouth as power radiates off his mate and nods. “Probably. Though doing so in jeans would be unpleasant.”

Stiles snorts. “Silly wolf.” He offers his hand and Peter doesn’t hesitate to grab it, lacing their fingers together.

He places a kiss to the pale mole spotted hand and smiles. “Your silly wolf.”

“You got that right.” Stiles sighs. “I wish it wasn’t so far. Wouldn’t it be awesome if we could teleport? Do you think I can—” He cuts off and blinks at the walls of his apartment suddenly surrounding them. “Oh.” He looks at Peter and smiles sheepishly. “Oops?” He blushes and rubs at the back of his neck only feeling slightly dizzy from the accidental use of his magic.

Peter huffs a laugh and cups Stiles’s face. “Only you would perform such a feat of magic, having never done anything like it before and say oops.”

Stiles laughs softly and rests his forehead against Peter’s. “My Peter Wolf.”

“My Stiles Spark.”

“I’m still me. Just with bonus features.”

“You make yourself sound like a special edition movie.”

Stiles scoffs, mock offended as he places his hand on his chest. “I resent that. I’ll have you know I am a limited edition.”

“Hmmm,” Peter purrs as he noses at the other man’s temple. “Is that so?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s so s-so so.”

Lips capture the spark’s own, and a soft moan is swallowed by the wolf. When Stiles pulls back, he scrunches up his nose and tilts his head.

“What’s wrong?” the wolf asks. “Not rough enough? Not sweet enough? Bad breath?”

Stiles snorts and shakes his head taking a steadying breath. He feels raw like an open wound. Stuart is his twin. He has an aunt and cousin who ignored his existence for years. He has a fucking twin. Who can he actually trust anymore? His dad seems impossible to trust considering the man never said a word.

With a groan he heads to the bedroom and plops on the bed he and Peter now share cause why not?

The wolf follows a little concerned and perches on the end of the bed. “Stiles, sweetheart?”

“Do you swear upon the penalty of death that you aren’t some long lost family member of mine? Cause dude we kiss and if we’re related, that’s just ewwwwww.”

Peter just huffs and rolls his eyes as if Stiles is being ridiculous, but Stiles thinks it’s perfectly valid. Who knows anymore?

Fingers card through Stiles’s chocolate locks as the wolf debates his response. “I should hope you’d never kill me…again. Although your reasoning was valid the first time. I do so swear that we are not related. The things I wish to do to you, would not be very appropriate in such a case as that.”

Stiles smirks and sits up. “Oh really. Just what is it you intend to do to me, Mr. Wolf?”

With a playful eye roll and a heated smile, the wolf coaxes him up off the bed and into the bathroom. “Well among many things which all tie into your wellbeing…I want to take care of you. I want to fuck you. I want to kiss you, hold you and love you.” He looks away as he starts the bath, setting it hot but just the right side of scalding. “I want all that you are and offer all of myself in return.”

The spark steps closer, his voice soft. “I get all of you?” he asks.

Blue eyes meet amber eyes and Peter smiles. “You’ve had all of me from the moment I met you.”

“Lies,” Stiles says even as he blushes. “You were insane.”

“Yes, but I’m not anymore and haven’t been for a while. Doesn’t mean I didn’t have good taste. Doesn’t mean I didn’t want you. Your scent alone pulled me from the fog in a way nothing else ever could. All I felt was rage and all I craved was revenge. I was out of my mind and, at first, you were a tool but then I caught your scent, heard your sarcasm and I just knew. Why do you think I offered the bite to you and on your wrist no less?” The wolf snags a bottle of lavender bath soap and a red loofah from under the sink. Then he retrieves a towel and looks at his mate. “If it’s not something you want, do tell me at once. I am a mature werewolf and man. I can accept rejection.”

Stiles’s eyes twinkle with mirth and affection as he steps closer and slips his arms around Peter’s neck. “Silly silly wolf.” He places a kiss to Peter’s throat with a soft sigh. “I’m yours. Though no official bonding until I’ve graduated. Okay?”

“Darling, you set any conditions you wish to. I will heed them all if it means a forever with you.”

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah.”

Stiles giggles. “You mean HALE yeah.”

Peter sends him a dry look but the corners of his mouth twitch. “Oh, hush child. Get undressed.”

“Wow. At least buy me dinner first.”

“As tempting as you always are, I shall not ravage you tonight. Today was an overload of information and emotion. I think the evening is better spent with a warm bath, lavender bubbles and as you said…wolf cuddles. All of these you will have, from yours truly.”

With a shy smile Stiles crosses his arms and grabs the hem of his shirt dragging up and off, letting it drop to the floor. “Well?” he says, causing Peter’s attention to tear away from the pale canvas on which he would love to leave his mark, leave multiple marks. “Your turn.”

Peter gulps. “Now I didn’t think you’d want to share your bath, darling. It’s sweet of you to offer. I doubt I could keep my hands to myself.”

Stiles quirks a brow and takes Peter’s hand guiding it to the impressive bulge in the front of his pants. “Does it look like I’d not be so into that? I’m not asking you to fuck me, Peter. After all, you said I would have to beg. I’m too tired to beg but I am not too tired to take a hot bath and be held by my mate.”

The wolf rumbles, his eyes flashing briefly and Stiles’s breath hitches, the scent of arousal growing more intense. Deciding resistance is futile, Peter shucks his shirt and with every article of clothing Stiles removes, the wolf mirrors him.

Soon they are standing bare before each other for the first time, and neither can take their eyes off the other.

“Sweetheart you are stunning. So, fucking beautiful,” Peter purrs his voice husky and breathy as he draws his mate closer.

“Hm,” Stiles hums, threading his fingers through the short hairs at the base of his mate’s neck. “I have no words for all that is Peter Hale.”

“Well, you know what they say don’t you?” Stiles quirks a brow, so Peter continues. “Actions speak louder than wo—”

Pink lips collide with the wolf’s own and moans echo as they devour each other’s mouths, mapping out every inch. Both men are hard and leaking but that’s an idle awareness. The intense kiss softens into affection before they part and Peter steps into the tub, still holding his mate’s hand. He lowers himself into the water and gestures for the spark to join him.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate but for a moment and then carefully steps in. When he doesn’t so much as twitch in a flail, he remembers his aunt’s words about being more agile. It makes him snort as he sinks into the water.

Peter pulls Stiles’s back flush against his own chest and grabs the loofa. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh. Just that my aunt said I’d be more agile now. I sort of can’t imagine such a thing. I’ve always been pretty clumsy, and I gesticulate like no one’s business.”

The wolf smirks as he gently, almost reverently soaps up his mate’s body. Then he nips the pale column willingly bared, the man trusting the wolf with his submission so sweet it makes Peter's fangs itch to bite, claim and own. “Well, you’ll still always be Bambi to me. Who knows, perhaps a spark can still amble around like a newborn fawn.”

“Fuck you dude,” Stiles says but he’s smiling. “I like when you say that.”

“Say what?” Peter asks as he wets his mate’s hair and then soaps it up, relishing in the pleased groans the spark lets out when he digs his fingers in harder.

“Use pet names. Sweetheart. Darling. Sweet or Darling Boy. Bambi. Little Sparkling. It makes me feel all warm and…” he trails off, cheeks pinking.

“And…?” the wolf prods a bit.

Stiles huffs and closes his eyes with a soft hum as the wolf rinses out the soap from his chocolate locks. “It makes me feel wanted, desired and loved. Okay? Happy now?” he grumbles, melting further into his mate.

Peter places soft kisses to his mate’s shoulders and neck. Then he gently nips the same places, leaving behind a scent and sight claim. He wants to leave darker marks, but he can be patient. “I am completely and perfectly and incandescently happy.”

“Oh, all right then. Should I refer to you as Miss Elizabeth then?” Stiles teases.

The wolf playfully growls and flashes a fang that Stiles can’t see but knows is there anyway. “If I were her, who would you be?”

Stiles shrugs. “Not Mr. Collins, that's for sure.”

“Ah. Yes. Definitely not him.”

“Have you seen every version?”

Peter tilts his head in thought. “There’s more than one?”

Stiles scoffs and glances back. “Uh duh. There are…” he trails off and then smiles. “Three. You have the movie made in 1940 which features the lovely Greer Garson as Miss Elizabeth Bennett and the gorgeous Laurence Olivier as Mr. Darcy. Then there’s the 1995 version that was originally a BBC production and was presented in episodes. It features the talented Jennifer Ehle as Miss Elizabeth Bennett and the amazing Colin Firth as Mr. Darcy.” He grins, his gestures animated and excited. “Then finally you have the 2005 version that is my personal favorite. There is just no one quite like Keira Knightley.”

“Wasn’t she in Pirates of the Caribbean?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah. Her and Orlando Bloom.”

“Legolas?”

“Careful wolf. You’re gonna make me fall in love with you.”

Peter smiles. “Good. Then you’d be caught up with me.”

Stiles stills and chews his lip, his fingers trailing up and down the wolf’s leg. “You love me?” he whispers.

“I love you.”

Stiles’s scent shifts to pleased so strong Peter can’t help the purr sound he lets out. “I know I’m going to love you, even if I can’t say the words yet. I will though. I promise.”

Peter presses a kiss the fluttering pulse of Stiles’s throat. “I know you will. Now…” He clears his throat. “Who plays the Mr. Darcy to Keira’s Miss Elizabeth?”

“Matthew Macfadyen.”

“Ah. Who? Is he in another franchise?”

Stiles shrugs. “No clue. Which one have you seen?”

Peter mumbles almost inaudible.

“What was that?” Stiles says but then he smiles. Aunt Klarysa said his sense would be heightened. With a thought he picks up the words and chuckles. “There’s no shame in having only seen the oldest one.”

“You aren’t going to call me old man? No puns or jokes or teasing?”

Stiles scoffs, offering the wolf a mock pout. “You wound me, wolf.”

Peter rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “You’re impossible.”

“You love me anyway,” Stiles singsongs and turns his body so he can get a better look at his wolf. “Don’t deny it.”

“Never,” the wolf says. “I love you any way and every way there is.”

“Sappy wolf.”

“An improvement. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Hmm,” Stiles hums. “Maybe, but don't go changing too much now. I wouldn’t know what to do if you did. I still need my clever, snarky, sarcastic, asshole wolf every now and then.”

Peter nods sagely. “Of course, darling,” he says, loving the burst of happiness in Stiles’s scent the endearment gets him. “I couldn’t call myself Peter Hale if I wasn’t an asshole. They go hand in hand.”

The spark smiles and pecks the wolf’s lips. “Yeah. I wouldn’t change ya for the world.”

“You sure? The world is pretty big.”

“I’m sure. You know why?”

“Mm, why?” Peter says, an arm slipping around the other man’s waist to rub small circles on his lower back.

Stiles sighs happily. “Because you’re my world.”

The wolf blinks and clears his throat to speak around the sudden emotion clogging it. “Now who’s the sappy one?”

“Still you.”

They stare at each other for a little while before Stiles steals another kiss and then turns around, reclining against his mate once more. “So how about we get out, dry off, get dressed and watch a movie?” he suggests even as he yawns. “W-We could w-watch…” he trails off, the day's events catching up with him.

Peter chuckles and drains the tub, standing up with his mate in his arms. “This weekend we shall have a Pride and Prejudice marathon. For now, it’s time for bed. Busy day tomorrow.”

Stiles hums in acknowledgement as he noses at the wolf’s neck. “M'kay.”

They get to the bedroom and Peter dries the both of them off, not putting his mate down for a moment during the entire process. Then, the wolf grabs out clothes, only for Stiles to snag Peter’s boxers and hoodie instead. “Want fo' me,” the spark mumbles and Peter easily acquiesces, having no issue with his mate wearing his clothes. His wolf is quite thrilled actually.

Once Stiles has the boxers and hoodie on, Peter guides him under the covers and puts on a pair of boxers himself. When he slips into bed with Stiles, the man immediately places his hands against the wolf’s chest and sighs happily. “My purdy wolf.”

“Pretty huh?”

“Mhm. Really purdy. All mine.”

Peter smiles and gently tugs the spark closer in a protective embrace. He places a kiss on the man’s forehead and smiles. “All yours.”

The relaxed atmosphere, free of the earlier suffocating tension, helps quiet Stiles’s brain. He still has so many questions but decides they can wait. He’ll write them all down to take when he sees his aunt next.

Just before the spark drifts off he hears Peter whisper: “I’ll always be Peter, sweetheart. The once insane, then undead, then creeper stalker werewolf who is so in love with you, that I’d do anything for you.”

Stiles melts into a puddle of goo, easily falling fast asleep with a dopey and pleased smile on his face. The rumbling of his mate lulls him into a sense of safety and security that he trusts completely.

He only wakes once and it’s to ask Peter to text Stuart. Peter does as Stiles asks and then sets the phone aside, holding his mate once more as he too drifts off.

[Stiles] Hey. So, I was thinking of visiting the library tomorrow after class. Maybe even eat lunch there. Join me?

#teen wolf #stiles stilinski #peter hale #klarysa gajos (oc)#spencer reid #stuart stilinski #spark stiles stilinski #magic #steter #stiles x peter #peter x stiles #chapter 6 #new chapter #mates peter hale/stiles stilinski #good peter hale #protective peter hale #peter hale loves stiles stilinski

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