#Food fantasy: new journey

[wings-of-ink]

God-Cursed - IF

DEMO link below.

You were found as a newborn, clutched in the arms of your dead mother at the base of a tree. No family came to claim you, but the men who came to your rescue adopted you as their own and became the only parents you’ve ever known. Growing up in the village of Stonebrook, you never want for much, until the day you first fall ill. Life plagues you with a mysterious condition that no one can diagnose or cure. You never know when it will strike or if it will eventually kill you. Living between fear and hope as you age, you try to come into your own as an adult with the ever-looming threat above you. As years pass, your condition seems to improve, until a mysterious mark appears on your body and opens up new questions.

It appears that you’re marked for death with no answers as to why, and your only chance to survive is to go out and seek them.

Journey through the land of Iroda, a fantasy world where the gods have abandoned their people and magic no longer prevails as it once did. Something is brewing that may change this world forever, and you’re in the middle of it, though your role is a mystery you must solve. Wanted dead by some and alive for mysterious purposes by others, you just want to survive. With the help of a few friends, find the answers that you need, and make your choices.

Customize your character’s looks, gender, sexuality, and personality. Choose to pursue someone in romance, friendship, or as simply a means to an end.

For those aged 18+ only.

Potential triggers/topics of sensitivity include, but are not limited to:

Swearing and adult language

Violence

Blood, possible gore

Injury, sometimes severe/life-threatening to the MC

Animal death (natural) and in reference to self-defense and food

Optional sexual content (explicitly detailed)

Nudity

Touching (non-sexual) without specific consent (this work is not written with specific touch-aversions in mind)

Chronic illness with severe symptomatic episodes

Childbirth with complications resulting in death and allusions thereof

References to pregnancy for side-characters and MC’s birth mother

Death (human, unnatural, accidental)

Abduction of MC (possible feelings of helplessness and fear)

Religious trauma

Cults

Depression/Anxiety/Panic

Nightmares

Disparaging thoughts

Substance use and references/use of alcohol

Canines, some aggressive

This story will have four main love-interests, detailed below, and one “mystery” romantic option. In addition, for readers that wish, there will be optional physical-only encounters that can occur with two of the ROs and a couple characters that your MC will encounter in the world. Should your MC wish to woo one of the love-interests, they will eventually be locked into that relationship. There will be no poly options for this story.

In the world of God-Cursed, MCs will be free to explore all relationships to a certain extent before making any permanent choice. Until then, flirting is regarded as simply another aspect of socialization. If your MC is the flirtatious type, they will not be “punished” for it. A couple of the ROs may be a bit anxious about your MC’s interactions with others if feelings are stirring, but it will not do permanent damage to the relationship you’ve built.

Your MC will not only be able to flirt with ROs either. Regular characters that you come across may have flirt options that will not lead to any sort of relationship, but might be useful in flattering your way into their good graces. Perhaps your MC may earn a permanent discount with a merchant or pull a secret from a cult member after making them blush from flattering speech. Or, your MC may irritate someone who doesn’t appreciate the advances, making your task more difficult.

Three of the ROs are gender-selectable (and will be cisgendered to your choice). The remaining two (including the mysterious suitor) are locked into male.

Main Companions (romanceable):

Oswin Twinflower

[AKA: Yarrow] (he/him – gender locked)

A childhood friend who’s just not the same anymore. Once a free-spirited softie with a perpetual smile and a penchant for mischief, Oswin has grown into a dour adult. After he came of age, he slowly distanced himself from you. In the ten years since, interactions between you have been awkward or downright hostile with no in-between. He doesn’t joke anymore. He doesn’t smile anymore. There’s something lost about his eyes these days…

-Personality: despite that furrow in his brow that says ‘stay away,’ Oswin actually prefers being in the company of others, as he cares deeply for friends and family. He’s organized and thorough – valuing the predictable and structured, and being driven to always improve upon his skills. Oswin can also be self-conscious, hard on himself, and a bit insecure.

-Appearance: standing around 6'2"/188cm with athletic build, Oswin has black hair that is slightly wavy and kept to his ears, bright-green hooded eyes, and brown skin with bronze undertones. He has a firm squared jaw, which is often prickled with light scruff. Oswin most often scowls, even when he doesn’t necessarily intend to. He dresses in simple tunics with leather armor and boots, and isn’t one for frivolities save for a special tattoo & necklace hidden under his clothing. A few notable scars mar his flesh, each telling a story. His sword is always kept at his hip.

-Occupation: Oswin makes his living as a sort of mercenary (though, he’d insist on being called a “hired hand”), mostly escorting wealthy merchants from town to town. He also helps as a local guard and is very popular among the villagers. Having trained with one of your fathers in the arts of sword and bow, he’s renowned as a formidable combatant.

-Fun fact: loves honey – is terrified of hates bees.

Zahn

(gender selectable)

A sweet and fun soul whom you meet along your journey. Zahn is just trying to fulfill their duty to their faith. They seek to help you in anyway they can, though there’s something torn behind their smile. Where did this fun-loving acolyte come from, and why do they look so sad when they think no one is looking?

-Personality: social and sweet, Zahn is enthusiastic and open-minded about most things. They’re incredibly flexible (in mind and body) and see possibilities in everything, being highly adaptable and skilled at improvising. Casual, warm, and always friendly and willing to lend a hand, they can make a very trustworthy companion.

-Appearance: about 5'5"/165cm tall with a petite build, wild blond hair and round blue eyes, Zahn has fawn colored skin with a rosy hue, and a dusting of light freckles with a touch too much wind and sun across their cheeks and nose. They appear a bit tired with slightly sunken eyes and a mite too thin with the lines of their jaw and neck a bit too pronounced – evidence of years of difficult living. If they grace you with a toothy smile, you may be lucky enough to see the slight gap in their front teeth. Zahn dresses in rough linen tunics, usually with layers to make up for how thin and hole-filled they are. They have a particularly ratty cloak that they seem to cherish.

-Occupation: acolyte of Din

-Fun fact: They may be a bit malnourished on the small side, but that doesn’t stop them from wielding a bow with scary strength and precision.

Duri’naan

[AKA: Duri] (gender selectable)

A demigod to whom you owe a debt, they seem quite curious about you.

-Personality: charming and laid-back, Duri prefers their own company most of the time but readily embraces tight friendships, of which they never tire – though it is all or nothing for them, no surface-level relationship will work for long. They are perpetually curious and casual, having an air of cool confidence and a love for teasing, which can sometimes make them appear disinterested or cold. They are always paying attention, even if it doesn’t seem like it, and often understand others more than themselves. They can stress easily – especially when things stop being fun, be a bit competitive and too independent for their own good.

-Appearance: standing approximately at 5'9"/175cm with a lithe but toned build, Duri’naan has long and straight grey hair, and honey-brown upturned eyes. Their skin is a warm beige, lit up with a bright smile that sometimes shows off a little sharp snaggle-tooth. They bear a strange scar on the back of their neck and are missing a bit from the upper part of one ear. Duri wears simple clothing made from a single and very long swath of blue-grey linen, wrapped around them in such a way that you’re not quite sure how it stays up. They also hate shoes for some reason and are always barefoot.

-Occupation: just takin’ the air, you know, not fishing.

-Fun fact: Duri’naan has a hobby of stealing miscellaneous things from others just to watch how they react (they always return what they take, leaving the items in strange places).

Rūndis Lyreheart

[AKA: Rune] (gender selectable)

A serious and powerful mage with an oddly fervent dedication to the God of Destruction, Casimir. Though they are capable of wielding great power, they prefer to spend their days as a traveling bard – saying it’s for the purpose of angering their mother. They’d have you think they could not care less about your plight, yet cannot resist lending a hand.

-Personality: Rūndis is an introverted day-dreamer who is curious and in search of deeper meanings at all times. Though they dream, they also have a rational side that comes with a penchant for efficiency and decisiveness. They tend to be calm and analytical, but are prone to anxiety especially in close relationships, making them seem a bit aloof or combative.

-Appearance: standing around 5'7"/173cm, Rune has shoulder-length curly hair that is all black except for a flash of purple on one side. They have almond-shaped purple eyes that are a testament to the magic that flows easily through them, and a beauty mark just under their right eye. They have a strong build and brown skin, wearing a stoic and serious expression that you wouldn’t expect from a bard. Rune favors fine robes and cloaks in colors that match their eyes, but only when they choose to stand out, otherwise they prefer common clothing. Tattooed upon their chest as a sign of devotion is the sigil of Casimir. They also adorn themselves with different types of jewelry.

-Occupation: traveling bard (primarily)

-Fun fact: Rune can play about any instrument you put in their hands, but their favorite is the lyre, which they play so well that many audiences have been left in tears.

Other Characters:

-Dov Northbreaker [Your papa]

Your loving papa is a mighty woodsman with an even mightier heart. The typical gentle giant, Dov has raised you with love and care since you were a babe. He’s deadly with an axe, though he only uses them on trees.

Dov is soft-spoken, very introverted, and shy. He has an affinity for animals and carpentry. He loves to create and fix anything and everything especially for his child or husband. Dov is also a very deep feeler and, though the quiet type, wears his heart on his sleeve – easily tearing up when moved.

Your papa is extremely tall and has very wide shoulders with massive muscles built by chopping trees down by hand for many years. His skin is tan, his eyes are brown, as is his shaggy hair, but his beard has patches with dark red running through it.

-Kip Northbreaker [Your da]

Your fiery da and spouse to your papa, he’s as quick to sass you as he is to shoot a bow. This lovable clown understood absolutely nothing about children, but adopted you regardless when you needed a home. He loves you with his whole being, even if he never lets you win at darts. He works as a huntsman and fisherman, and though his skill is unmatched, his looks and demeanor never seemed to fit his choice in work.

Kip may be the compete opposite of his husband, being extroverted and, often, loud. He tends to be the life of a party, and seeks to make everyone laugh. You grew up with him pranking you as often as possible without doing too much psychological damage.

Your da is above average in height and has an agile build with a good amount of muscle from wielding a bow regularly. He has fawn colored skin, short and wispy brown hair, and hazel eyes. He keeps his beard cropped short and always seems to be smiling. He has a love for expensive clothing and pops of bold color.

-Lakota Twinflower [AKA: Aster]

Your best friend since childhood, Lakota is an affectionate soul who would never hurt a fly – though he’d give it a stern talking-to. Being sickly as a child, you were brought together a great deal, especially since his parents are the town healers. You were practically joined at the hip, enough that people believed you were siblings.

Lakota is sweet and gentle all around. Taking after his father, he loves to help others and is skilled in medicine. He’s a soft sort and a little bit gullible, which his sisters frequently took advantage of growing up. He was always closest with his big brother, Oswin, and you. He takes what he perceives as failure very hard, so he strives to do things perfectly.

As an adult, your friend is fair-skinned, with wild curly blond hair that reaches his shoulders. Being almost average in height, his frame is quite lean and wiry from his years as a sickly kid. He has deep brown eyes, cannot grow a beard for anything, though he has tried about every tonic combination to encourage one.

Customize your MC

Play as male, female, or non-binary

Pick your character's physical appearance (including tattoos)

Choose a main hobby/skill/career your MC excels at

Get a cool scar with an interesting or embarrassing story attached

Buy 1 of 4 nameable mounts to ride and feed treats to

Shape your characters personality throughout the story (no “personality checks”)

Romance some people or don’t

Create a steady and enduring love with 1 of 5 suitors

Make some life-long friends

Enjoy some aromantic physical encounters with 2 ROs and/or NPCs you meet in the world

Enjoy some romantic physical encounters with all 5 ROs at some point in the story (some ROs will require a locked-in [committed] romantic relationship before you get to this point)

Go on a quest for answers and survival

Meet some gods

Find some demons

See the magic that still lingers in the world

Get the shit kicked out of you and have a few mental breakdowns totally fun times

Demo:

Error Report Form:

Last Update: July 2024

Anticipated next installment: Unknown, potentially October 2024

Content: short prologue and Chapters 1 - 4

Current Word Count: approx. 333k (with code, which adds at least 10 pounds)

Twine Template:

https://vahnya.itch.io/

Pinterest:

https://pin.it/5LOcQlPq1

Music: (not my playlist, but highly recommend it)

ASK GUIDELINES Link:

[lieutenantfloyd]

Top Gun: Maverick Fic Recs

Hey y'all! Here are 21 of my favorite TGM fanfics of all genres and ships, listed in no particular order.

Some of these fics are 18+ so read at your own risk. None of these works are mine and all credit goes to the amazing authors! <3

X READER

Safe Zone by @sunlightmurdock — (Series // Rooster and Hangman x reader)

A team of elite naval aviators holding down the fort at the North Island Air Base while they wait for reinforcements after a virus sweeps the continental U.S. - only, it’s been three months and no one has shown up.

Hold My Hand by @labyrinth-runner — (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

Jag! Reader is assigned to defend a pilot, finding the job to be more complicated than she thought.

Rooster’s Flight or a Manual for the Marooned by DontLetThemTakeYouAlive (Series // Rooster x Reader/OC)

"Rooster's Flight: A Manual for the Marooned" follows Madeline, a pastry chef escaping scandal in Amsterdam, and Bradley, a lost naval aviator stationed in Japan. Fate brings them to sunny San Diego, where their friendship blossoms amid career challenges and a clashing of characters. Madeline's culinary journey intertwines with Bradley's self-discovery, navigating love and loss.

Resilience, self-discovery, and the unpredictable paths of career and matters of the heart shape their narrative in this tale of second chances and unlikely connections.

Fine Piece by @dragon-kazansky (Series // Cyclone x Reader)

You have it bad for Vice Admiral Simpson. But to prove you’re fit for the job; you need to put that aside and focus on the flying.

Someone Special by @fanboygarcia (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

What happens when the Dagger Squad catches on to the fact that known grump turned lovesick fool Admiral Simpson has someone special in his life?

Invisible String by @halfway-happyyy (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

the one where rooster’s about to leave on a mission he doesn’t know if he’ll be back from, and he wants you in every way imaginable. as always, soft feelings ensue! 

Do you wanna make somethin’ of it by @theharddeck (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

@bullet-prooflove's entire TGM masterlist

Everything she writes is outstanding, but the Beau x Ally fics (The First Time Series, The General Series, Deployment!Series, and Syria!Series) are something I think about literally everyday.

i don’t know, blame the air force? by @gretagerwigsmuse (Oneshot // Rooster x Reader)

in which lieutenant commander bradshaw feels his girlfriend’s wrath after she gets her year end bonus and uncle sam takes a pretty penny out of it

There Are Rules by @tongue-like-a-razor (Series // Maverick x Reader)

Your risky flying seriously pisses off your instructor at Top Gun and you're about to find out why.

Through the Hourglass by @bratshaws (Series // Rooster x OC)

Rooster x Plus Size OC!

Happy Birthday, Mr. President by @rhettabbotts (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

after a hard week, the last thing bob wanted to do was attend his birthday party. so instead, he plays out one of his biggest fantasies with you.

Whoever's in Lemoore by @cherrycola27 (Oneshot // Bob x Reader)

A fic based on the Reba McEntire song "Whoever's in New England"

Angels Don't Always Have Wings by @bradshawssugarbaby (Series // Rooster x Reader)

a series of oneshots revolving around baseball player!Bradley Bradshaw x reader (nicknamed Angel)

Do I? by @bradshawssugarbaby (Oneshot // Cyclone x Reader)

Inspired by Do I? by Luke Bryan. (this fic was so good I had to go take a walk after reading it for the first time)

Road to Perdition by @sailor-aviator (Series // Hangman x Reader)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

His Best Friend's Wedding by @ereardon (Series // Rooster x Reader)

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw has been your best friend for a decade. He’s also your fiancé’s best man. So when he shows up at your hotel room the night before your wedding, it’s just because he’s your friend, right? 

OTHER SHIPS

Mistaken Identity by @ladylanera — (TGM x Mission: Impossible crossover)

What should be a joyous homecoming quickly unravels after it's discovered a nefarious, unknown group has put a hit out on Captain Mitchell, mistaking the Navy captain for being a covert IMF operative by the name of Ethan Hunt who has an uncanny likeness to the captain for some reason. Enter a twisty web of lies that threaten the very existence of the family as we know it.

**Fic contains spoilers for Mission: Impossible Dead Reckoning Part One**

Flower Power by ReformedTsundere — (Icemav)

Flowers, Pete reminds himself, slamming the last of the books closed, are the worst.

New Chat Created: North Island Daggers by Comin2U — (gen fic)

Harvard: why Whatsapp and not just a basic text message? Hangman: because one of us has an android and ruins the ability to message with just internet. Coyote: Screw you too hangman. ________________________________ In which 12 daggers, the best of the best of naval aviators, are all a bunch of kids and thrown in a group chat.

come fly with me (let's fly, let's fly away) by GatheringBlue — (TGM x 9-1-1 Crossover)

It's a common misconception that Buck trained to be a Navy SEAL. For as long as he could remember, flying had been his dream. Most little kids wanted to be a firefighter or an astronaut, but Buck had always wanted to be a pilot. He wanted to fly far, far away from home, where his parents’ comments that might as well have been slaps for how badly they stung couldn’t get to him. Flying was his way out. His escape. If he was thousands of feet up in the sky, way up with the clouds, then his parents couldn’t touch him. No one could. When Buck got pulled from the reserves just after the lawsuit, it seemed like perfect timing. There was nothing left for him in LA. Not anymore. So, it looked like Buck was heading back to Top Gun.

[allfortheslay25]

Pls loredump Abt ur new all for the war au

THE MOMENT I HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR!!!

everyone keep up it’s a doozy☝️

TW: mentions of abuse, torture, human trafficking, assault, murder, and lots of violence ⚠️

Some facts to keep in mind: Based on a draft for a novel I am working on, despite Milo being in this AU it is not 100% based on the Milo fic and has some changes to adhere to my novel, this novel is fantasy with light magic aspects and more godly mythology aspects (so not everyone can do magic cuz it’s more like witchcraft or godly blessings/curses), Neil is sort of intersex (or at least a version of it in this fantasy world) This also isn’t the full story, I left some stuff out because I don’t think I can get through every microscopic detail

The war started when Palmetto country was harassed for the last time. The Moriyamas had sent another army to pass through, use their resources, and bully their citizens. So Palmetto decided enough was enough and declared war. It was Kayleigh Day that accepted and decided to fight back (otherwise the Moriyamas would have closed their boarders and just ignored Palmetto)

David Wymack was in charge of the Palmetto army and fought a long and hard battle against Kayleigh and the Moriyamas defenses. Eventually, they’d met in person and become frenemies. Kayleigh was pregnant with Kevin and after many interactions and conversations with Wymack, decided the war wasn’t worth it. She didn’t want Kevin to grow up surrounded by meaningless bloodshed.

The Moriyamas did not stand for her decision. She started this, she has to end it. They tasked Tetsuji, her closest friend and family, to kill her. Tetsuji did so and raised Kevin as one of his own (alongside Riko) Kevin was told his mother was assassinated by the other side and her war is now his.

So Kevin trained hard, studied war and battle strategy, and worked to finish what his mother started.

Along his journey to becoming the ‘hero’ the Moriyama empire needed, he trained alongside Riko who he considered a brother, and was given two friends; Nathaniel, a young boy belonging to a war driven family aka the House of Slaughter who were well known battle strategists, and later Jean, a teen belonging to a wealthy family aka the House of Pride who were known to own lots of ships and traveling resources.

Nathaniel was always promised to Tetsuji’s unit since his birth. Riko let Kevin have him so Kevin could make a warrior out of him. And, after all, what’s Kevin’s is Riko’s and what’s Riko’s is always Riko’s.

Jean was betrothed to Kevin when he’d completed his first mission. Kevin assumed it’s what Jean wanted since the Moreau family has always been stuck up about letting other families marry into theirs. Their children are picky and if Jean was his fiancé, it had to mean Jean chose him. But Kevin was oblivious to how little Jean mattered to his family.

Nathaniel grew up with Kevin as a brother figure and a mentor. They trained and studied together and snuck away with Riko and Jean to get into childish shenanigans. But every weekend, Nathaniel would need to go home for Wesninski family training where they’d torture him. It was meant to train Nathaniel in interrogation, both how to survive one and how to conduct one. On his first day back, the Moriyamas would hurt him so that he wouldn’t forget to fear them too. Kevin was just as obvious to this and assumed Nathaniel was just very weak and prone to injury.

Eventually, when Nathaniel was 13, he and Kevin got into a fight about how distracted Nathaniel had been these days. He’d kept sneaking off to hang out with some secret friends of his or to follow Riko around. Kevin assumed Nathaniel was purposely getting sloppy and tore into him. Nathaniel had definitely been getting away with those other soldiers, content to let them treat him to food and (appropriate)entertainment in the town. It was an escape from Kevin’s pressure on him and Riko’s abuse behind closed doors (which is why Nathaniel was often following him around)

Kevin said some things he didn’t mean and told Nathaniel to be at the training grounds for night practice or else. Nathaniel left to hang out with the soldiers so he could vent about Kevin’s attitude. He meant to show up for night practice but the soldiers had held him hostage and assaulted him until morning.

Nathaniel had Wesninski training the next day and was gone for two days and an extra day with the Moriyamas abuse. Before he could attempt to go to Kevin, Riko had locked him in his room as punishment for not seeing Riko before he left. When he was finally let out before the next week started, Kevin had to be fuming.

Nathaniel went to Kevin to explain or make up for his absence but running into Riko reminded him that even if he reported it, the soldiers wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist. Nathaniel was property and if Riko didn’t care that they’d touched him, neither would any other Moriyama. So he showed up to the training grounds to lie about his whereabouts and it set Kevin off.

Kevin laid into him about his sloppiness and hit Nathaniel where it hurts. Kevin decided he had enough and Nathaniel wasn’t cut out to be a soldier so he quit as his mentor. Nathaniel of course had argued back and twisted the knife (metaphorical) into Kevin as a final word. They got into a bit of a tussle in which Kevin slice Nathaniel across the face as the final ‘we’re done’. Nathaniel left the castle grounds for some space and hid away for a week when he’d realized something was wrong. He was pregnant.

Knowing what the Moriyamas would do to him and how they would have decided to use this to their advantage, Nathaniel decided to leave the country. He changed his name and disguised himself (with the help of his mother) so he could go to Palmetto. Renee, a solider who helps people escape from the war and settle down into Palmetto, picked Neil out of the crowd instantly. They had to test him since being pregnant allows extra comforts and resources and many people try to fool them for it every day.

Neil was kept under constant watch by Andrew, a fellow soldier and friend of Renee’s. They talked every day, Neil never giving up any information and doing his best to take scraps of info about the war from Andrew. Eventually, Neil was far along enough for a doctor, Abby, to examine him and prove he was with child. The information wasn’t a blessing to Neil and only made him more bitter and hostile towards the Foxes (soldiers of palmetto tasked with guarding the farms that those with pregnancies stay at) Neil was allowed privacy but that was a favor from Andrew after Neil gave him a truth.

Neil had planned to use the comforts provided for pregnant ppl until Milo was born and he could just give him up and move on with his life. Andrew knew and because no one asked, he never told any of the other Foxes. Andrew would give Neil reports about the ongoing war, they’d play their truths game, and ofc Andrew would just do his duties as a guard.

When Milo was born, Neil decided to keep him, afraid to end up alone in this new country. While recovering, Neil could not stand the Foxes reckless and messy teamwork during battles and provided them with better plans and instructions while in bed rest. Dan was eager to let him since his plans worked and made sense. When Neil recovered, he enlisted and Dan took him under her wing to train him to replace her.

Word got out about this new strategist of there’s and how ruthless he was. Kevin had not been out on the field (he’s one of few people allowed to switch back and forth between battlefield fighting and hq strategy) but Riko had.

Riko one day stormed back into hq to rant about Nathaniel being the new strategist. Kevin didn’t believe it and didn’t think it was a funny joke since everyone had assumed Nathaniel was dead. Kevin instantly geared up to meet them on the battlefield and fought him, using Nathaniel’s old habits to get him on his back and unmask him. Kevin was relieved to find him alive but confused as to why he was fighting for palmetto.

Neil kicked Kevin’s ass and told him to go back home, deciding to retreat for now. Kevin followed his lead in his state of shock. A week later, he received a note from Nathaniel to meet him by a certain lake they used to hang around as kids. There, he explained that he was no longer Nathaniel and he would not be coming back to the Moriyamas. They argued, Kevin begged for him to come back, he told him that the Moriyamas killed Mary for hiding him and her last words were that Nathaniel died, Nathaniel did not mention his assault or his son but threw his abuse in Kevin’s face before they calmed down and talked about nothing. Sunrise came around and Neil left.

Kevin had hopes of convincing Neil back and confided in Jean about his struggles. He told Riko to forgive Neil and naively hoped they could all just go back to normal.

Flash forward to Tetsuji having a mission for Kevin. Kevin, eager to prove himself, agreed to kill an enemies son. Tetsuji tells him to slow down before explaining that it’s a baby and not only is it a child, it is Nathaniel’s one and only son. Kevin begs and tries to convince Tetsuji to see another way, that Milo won’t be a threat, that they can’t do this to family. Tetsuji reminds him that Nathaniel is a traitor and no longer family and that if he cannot complete this mission, someone else (possibly Riko) will. Tetsuji does this to Kevin because he wants to ensure that Kevin is a Moriyama and just like when Tetsuji was ordered to kill a sister (Kayleigh) Kevin must kill a nephew (Milo)

Kevin suits up and heads to the farm where Milo lives, sneaking in with the help of the Moriyamas and a token Neil had given him in case Kevin ever wanted to escape to Palmetto (it was a coin with a fox on it that he’d flash towards any guards at the boarders, and they’d let him in) At the farm, Kevin loses his resolve because of how much Milo just looks like Neil. Kevin had first met Neil when he was three years old at a Wesninski banquet, that’s when Riko had gifted Kevin with the honor of training him. Neil moved in with them when he was eight years old, and started his physical training at 10. Kevin couldn’t fathom killing Milo when all he saw was Neil’s infant face at that banquet.

Kevin instead kidnapped Milo and taken him back to the Moriyamas castle where he begged Riko to convince Tetsuji to let them keep him. Riko had agreed instantly with ulterior motives to raise his own Wesnisnki weapon. They tutored Milo in battle strategy and while Kevin was away on the battlefield, Riko would hurt Milo.

Neil had gone to torturing the Moriyamas ppl to find information about Milo’s possible whereabouts. It had gotten bad enough that the Moriyamas were willing to just toss him back to Neil or even kill him to get rid of the evidence. Riko had a dumbass plan to send an infants mutilated body back to Neil with a threat. Kevin actually believed it to be Milo and had a mental breakdown about the loss until Riko revealed it was all a trick. Kevin began to realize how much of a monster Riko actually was.

Meanwhile, Neil stopped torturing the Moriyamas citizens and instead just started burning down their villages. At first, it seemed like a ridiculous act of grief and the Moriyamas opened their kingdoms city borders for the homeless to reside in temporarily. Once all of their ppl were in one place, Neil broke into the castle and gathered all the Moriyamas to make them beg for mercy.

Kevin was the only one to beg for forgiveness and accept any punishments Neil had to offer. Kevin hadn’t known where Riko hid Milo at the time and didn’t know if he should admit that Milo was in fact alive (after all, Kevin didn’t even have proof) when the Moriyamas made halfassed apologies for Neil’s loss, he told Kevin that he was an idiot and needed to stop treating Neil like a child. Then Neil set the entire city on fire as his men slaughtered as many women and children as they could. Kevin was forced to watch from a window and listen to the people’s screams as the city burned and bled. It was the first time Kevin saw Neil as a monster.

Neil then castrated the Moriyamas, killing Kengo and Ichirou and taking Tetsuji’s hands. Kevin was the only person unscathed because Neil knew how Kevin has the worst case of survivors guilt. Riko was the only person who escaped, hiding away until the next day when the fires died.

Tetsuji was meant to make Riko king now. He first ordered Kevin to kill Milo as a last act of vengeance and fear that Neil would discover the truth. Riko taunted him about it and went to sleep like a baby for his coronation the next day. Kevin almost did kill Milo before deciding to instead kill Riko in his sleep. Kevin took Milo and returned him to Neil’s men.

On his long journey to palmetto (now that the city is burned and the borders are back up Kevin must take the long way) Jean’s spirit follows him, talking to Kevin as he begins to believe he is going insane. He didn’t want to believe Jean was dead but it was the only answer. Tetsuji and his advisors slaughtered Jean for killing Riko. They didn’t bother investigating and brutally murdered him. Kevin eventually is able to return Milo and wanders between the borders, unable to return home or go to palmetto.

Neil later forgives Kevin (after a very long few years) and helps him connect with Wymack. While Kevin talks to Neil about his plans, he avoids the war and Neil never tells him that Tetsuji hung himself and the throne now belongs to Kevin. The war is coming to a close and Kevin needs to let it end before he can claim his title. Except, while Kevin is helping a few ppl escape to Palmetto, Milo (who is a teenager by now) tries to kill him, driving Kevin farther from both kingdoms. It’s why he never gets the news about the end of the war or Neil and Andrew’s brutal deaths.

Injured and weakened, Kevin tries to help as many people as he can as they all make way to palmetto. Crossing the river, Kevin is too injured from Milo’s attack to fight the ripples, causing Kevin to fall and bust his head open on a rock. Kevin drowns until he finally bleeds out.

As for Neil and Andrew, they were still on the war front the day the news of the end came. Neil was asked to help some villagers nearby their camp. He was tricked and captured and the villagers burned him alive for a day and a half. Nearing the second day, Andrew received word about Neil’s kidnapping. He was leaving their tent when he’d had a heart attack and died. Andrew was purposely poisoned so he wouldn’t avenge Neil’s death.

The only survivor of this story was Milo, who had trained himself for his parents war, who was tortured just to end it, who was kidnapped and separated from Neil, who didn’t even get to fight in it. Milo lived to tell their tale and was forced to face it alone.

The end.

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧PRECIOUS

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) As a nature witch, you always wanted your own familiar ever since you were a kid, however, fate seemed to have different plans for you.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) cat boy!hongjoong x fem!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Hongjoong is a cat. mentions of food and drinking. a little bit of violence. mentions of getting injured. questionable editing. lmk if I am missing something

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 8.9k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (NOTES) My entry for the stuck in summer collab hosted by @a1sh1teruu. This was mainly inspired by cat boy!hwa fic written by @hwaightme! I always enjoy feedback, reviews, and asks so don't hesitate to comment/send an ask!

Humming to yourself, you lock the door to your quaint little cottage nestled in the heart of the woods. Your basket, which is brimming with aromatic herbs and meticulously crafted potions, dangles from your arm as you set toward the nearby town. There’s a spring in your step that reflects the life thriving in the flora around you. As a nature witch, you prefer to live in your element; hence, your chosen abode rests at the forest’s edge, a mere mile from the bustling town you call home.

This distance necessitates a journey by foot, a mile-long expedition riddled with untamed trails and serpentine streams. The unpaved path is untouched by humanity, offering no comfort of a well-trodden road, but in its midst—intertwined with the symphony of rustling leaves, bubbling brooks, and the whispered secrets of the trees—you feel at home.

As you amble past the outskirts of the town, a voice pierces through the tranquil air of the early morning. You falter at the unexpected call of your name and gaze past a waist-high fence to witness Miyeon—the daughter of a fellow witch and cherished friend—hurrying down her front yard with a bundle of fur resting in her arms.

“Y/N! Look! I found my very own familiar,” she says, words brimming with pride and joy. 

Your smile broadens as you congratulate her on her newfound magical connection. As you fuss over the young girl, your friend arrives, scolding her daughter for leaving her breakfast unfinished on the table. After exchanging cordial greetings and a gossip-laden exchange, you bid them adieu, recommencing your journey to Wooyoung’s shop.

As you leave behind the jovial mother-daughter duo, your once-beaming smile begins to wane, usurped by the pang in your chest. The yearning for a familiar casts a shadow upon your heart. Your dreams and visions of such a bond had been nurtured by tales of your parents’ harmonious connection with their own familiars and a childhood fantasy that stemmed from watching and re-watching Kiki’s Delivery Service. Usually, you can easily ward off these dark thoughts, allowing them to be no more than a passing whisper. But today, the loneliness of being a witch without a familiar resurfaces with a melancholic tenacity that defies dismissal.

“Why the long face?” 

Your response to the unexpected voice is a startled screech before you realise that it’s only Wooyoung who is standing at the window of his shop. The playful curve of his lips and the fond glint in his eyes prompt you to mutter a curse under your breath—more in playful annoyance than actual resentment.

You met Jung Wooyoung right after you found yourself in Alusia when you were a bright-eyed young witch, fresh out of the academy. He owned an antique shop inherited from his grandparents and was new in the town too, having arrived only a week prior. In his willingness to find a friend, Wooyoung offered you shelter under his roof when you needed it most—a gesture that solidified the foundations of an unbreakable friendship. Soon, the two of you converted the antique shop into an apothecary—a venture carved from your joint dreams and driven by your unique talents. Wooyoung, with his inherent charm (or, as your mutual friend San teasingly referred to it as Wooyoung being a loudmouth), engaged with clients while you prepared the elixirs and potions that graced the shop’s shelves.

“You are such a menace, Woo,” you tease, rolling your eyes playfully in mock exasperation as you step into the shop, extending the basket to him. He lifts the lid carefully to reveal its contents, his enthusiasm palpable as he thoroughly inspects your offerings. “You are an angel, you know that?! I was running low on most of these and—oh?” In a burst of affection, he engulfs you in an unexpected hug, “You've finished Mrs Kim's potion already? You truly are a wonder, Y/N.”

By the time you step out of the shop to return home, it’s past noon, and the sun is high in the sky, casting a glow that makes you squint against its brilliance. But you smile despite the temporary discomfort because the warmth of the summer sun serves as a reminder of your cherished garden. The thought of the flourishing herbs and thriving plants in your backyard makes you smile.

Skipping lightly across the worn, flat stones that act as a bridge over the clear stream, you revel in the prospect of returning home after an exhausting week. The last few days were a flurry of ceaseless activity—the sheer number of concoctions to prepare left you without a moment to catch your breath. So, the mere idea of spending the rest of the day simply resting without worrying about tasks and obligations sounds heavenly. With each step that leads you closer to your home, a sense of serenity unfurls within you, anticipation blossoming like the flowers that line both sides of your path.

On your way, you come across another stream, its gurgling rhythm a soothing undercurrent to your thoughts. Just as you approach it, however, a soft rustling pierces the air, causing you to halt in your tracks. Your brows furrow and your gaze sweeps the landscape for the source of the sound. Nothing seems amiss, yet the sight of a fawn preoccupied with a hidden something beneath the swaying grass causes you to move closer.

A gasp, involuntary and hushed, escapes your lips as your eyes land on a jet-black cat, its form huddled against the earth, a stark contrast against the vibrant backdrop of nature. However, it’s not the feline’s presence that startles you, but its pitiable state. Laboured breaths escape the creature, and the emerald blades beneath it are smeared in crimson blood. Without much thought, you scoop the injured feline into your arms. Careful of its wounds, you break into a brisk pace, your heart beating in tandem with your desperate urgency.

Foregoing the cottage, you bring the cat to the outhouse that doubles as your workspace. There, you tenderly set it upon a generously sized cushion at the far table. Despite the anxiety riddling your thoughts, your hands are steady as you collect the required ingredients to heal him. Gratitude unfurls within you for the foresight that ensured your own provisions remained well-stocked, even as you had taken most of the supplies to the apothecary.

Once you’re armed with everything you will need, you fuss over the wounded feline. As you carefully begin healing the cat, a whispered prayer escapes your lips—an offering of gratitude to the nature spirits that guided you to the cat for if you had been even a few minutes late, he would not have survived whatever ordeal had led to his pitiful condition. As you work, the sun dips beneath the horizon, casting hues of purple and orange in the sky. The cat’s exhausted form eventually surrenders to peaceful slumber, and though relieved, you still find yourself unable to depart for the comforts of your cottage.

Fetching the futon that you use when the making of a potion demands vigilant oversight, you nestle into its warmth. From the glass ceiling, you smile at the star-strewn sky that arches above you. Like this, under the watchful gaze of the constellations, you fall asleep, unknowing that your life is now intertwined with the cat’s own.

Your eyes flutter open to the soft morning sunlight piercing through the windows of the outhouse and your gaze shifts to the feline. You smile as you see the cat is doing better and leave the cat to its peaceful slumber to fix up a quick breakfast for yourself, only returning with a list of potions you must deliver to the shop the following week.

You put your phone onto your desk and begin your work, enveloped in a symphony of tranquil melodies that mirror the serenity of the forest that lies merely a few paces from where you stand. As you are immersed in your craft, the sun reaches its zenith, casting its warmth upon your workspace. As you work, a subtle shift draws your attention—a faint movement that you catch in the corner of your vision.

Turning to the source of movement, your eyes settle upon the cat, the creature finally stirring from its slumber. Wariness born from a shared unfamiliarity—yours with its nature, and its with yours—causes you to stay where you are. You wait with bated breath as the little guy brings his paws to his eyes to rub them, followed by a languid stretch. A yowl of discomfort leaves him, echoing through the space, and you can’t help but inhale sharply at his distress; he probably hears it because the very next moment, he’s on his paws and hissing at you.

You observe him with a mixture of understanding and patience, knowing that such a response comes from the fear and uncertainty of finding oneself in unfamiliar surroundings. You raise both your hands to show that you mean no harm. 

“Hey, it's okay,” your voice flows with reassurance, carrying with it an aura of compassion that you hope the cat can sense. “You're safe here, I promise. Please, just… rest some more. Moving might cause more harm than good right now, and it took me a while to treat those wounds of yours.”

The cat’s eyes narrow in distrust as his eyes rake over your form. Eventually, however, his cautious resolve gives way, and with a subdued huff, he eases back onto the cushion. You can tell that he is still wary of your presence, so you return to your task.

Stirring the potion, you softly break the silence. “You know, you’ve been out for almost a day. I was growing rather concerned, to be honest.” The cat tilts its head subtly, almost as if he’s curious, so you continue your train of thought. “Your injuries were quite severe. It’s a relief to see you awake.”

As the hours tick by, you remain absorbed in your work. Bottles and vials are filled with elixirs and put into another basket, each labelled with care and precision. While you work, you can feel the cat’s watchful gaze upon you. Once your tasks are completed, you shift your attention to your companion, who is now fast asleep. The feline, who was so cautious of you merely hours ago, now embodies a tranquillity that makes your lips quirk up at the corners. As you tidy your workspace, your heart brims with warmth, and once done, you begin preparations for lunch in your cottage.

The golden rays of the sun filter through your kitchen windows, illuminating your countertop as you cook a simple yet hearty lunch. You walk out of the kitchen, wanting to awaken the cat to give him some food, but as you enter the living room, a curious sight awaits your gaze. The cat is seated in front of the coffee table, blinking at you lazily. At his curious behaviour, your magic reaches out gently, a fleeting touch that reveals nothing out of the ordinary, causing you to hum in confusion. 

Armed with food, you step closer to your companion, emboldened by the silent affirmation that he won’t run away. “Would you mind if I turn on the TV?” Your query hangs in the air, and a melodic meow is the only answer you get before he’s diving headfirst into the meal you had prepared. Considering his response a go-ahead, you tune into Pirates of the Caribbean, the movie becoming a backdrop to your shared meal.

As the credits of the first movie start to roll, you can sense wariness in the cat’s watchful eyes, but this morning’s feral hiss has yielded to a tentative harmony. Noticing how entranced the cat is by the movie, you don’t turn it off as you clean the dishes, a gesture that you suspect he appreciates. Returning to the living room on completion of your chores, you find the once-restless creature nestled upon the sofa in cosy contentment—an image that both warms your heart and fascinates you.

You settle into the opposite end of the couch, and open your grandmother's book of remedies. The sounds from the TV fade into background noise as you read through the tome, and you can’t help but think about how oddly domestic this moment seems.

Emboldened by how relaxed your new companion looks, you decide to talk to him. “Hey, buddy, would you mind if I checked on your wound? Just to make sure it's healing the way it should?”

The feline responds with a subtle shift—a repositioning that unveils its wounded side. As you approach, your heart swells due to the delicate trust blooming between you. If you’re surprised by how quickly he is healing, you don’t let it be known. “Looks like you will be fine by the end of the week. I’d love for you to stay here with me until then, but the choice is yours.”

Your offer hangs in the air for a moment before he meows, sealing the agreement. The cat settles back into the same position in which he’d been watching the movie, so you assume that means he’s going to stay in cat-speak.

Yet, a lingering thought flits through your mind—the matter of a name. “What do we name you, though?” you ponder aloud, your voice a soft murmur. You drop random names that seem fitting for a cat. Most receive only a nonchalant disregard, save for an outright hiss at the name “minion”.

As you are at your wits’ end, an idea strikes you. “What about Captain... Jack Sparrow?” The last part is whispered, so you don’t know if he heard, but you’d shorten it to Captain anyways, so in your humble opinion, it is the perfect name.

In the wake of your suggestion, the feline’s eyes light up in affirmation, making you smile. “Okay then, Captain it is,” you declare softly, marking the beginning of a bond, one forged in the quiet moments and shared names bridging the divide between the two of you.

In a surprising twist, Captain Jack Sparrow defies your initial expectations by choosing not to leave your cottage even after his recovery. The once-wounded feline weaves his presence into the very fabric of your life in the form of a plush cat bed nestled within a spare room. Though, in hindsight, it was an unnecessary purchase as the bed remains pristine and untouched, while the cat himself stakes claim to your couches and book-laden shelves.

During the day, the uppermost shelf of your work area becomes Captain’s sanctuary, where he slumbers amidst the tomes stacked alphabetically. With time, Captain inches closer, from lower shelves to the corner of your very table—a silent testament to the trust that has bloomed between the two of you.

Then, one day, the gentle touch of a paw upon your hand breaks through your concentration. Wide-eyed, you find yourself captivated by the slumbering form of Captain. For the next hour, you don’t dare move your hand, driven by the irrational belief that any movement on your part could shatter the delicate companionship you’ve woven over months of shared moments.

The seconds stretch like an eternity, yet you remain still. When Captain awakens to find you in such a vulnerable state, his response is one that eases your fears—a gentle nudge of his nose against your hand in gratitude and acknowledgement and leaves before you can process what happened.

That night onwards, you find Captain curled up at the top of your closet during the night. The first few times, the sight of his glowing orbs startles you, but with time, you find yourself comforted by this silent guardian who watches over you as you slumber. When you tell Wooyoung about this, his response is one of gentle reassurance. “He probably watches over you to protect you as you sleep during the night.”

Speaking of Wooyoung, the first time you ask Captain to accompany the town on your visit, he seems a little sceptical. “It’s your choice, Captain. If you don’t want to, that’s perfectly alright. I just thought you would like some change of scenery,” you tell him. As you gather your belongings and secure your cottage, you expect Captain to stay back. However, as you lock the door, you find him perched upon the fence, waiting for you. And when you introduce Captain to Wooyoung, it is a new experience, to say the least. Laughter spills forth as you are unable to suppress your mirth as Captain scratches your friend’s hand in an instinctive response to Wooyoung’s attempt to lift him into his arms.

“You have adopted a devil, Y/N,” he screeches, pointing at Captain while cradling his arm protectively. Your cat, on the other hand, is sitting on his haunches while licking his paw—the picture of angelic innocence.

“Please, I would scratch you too if you tried to scare me. The only reason I don’t is because you’d whine about it for days. Captain might just be the guardian I need to keep you in check, aren’t you, bud?” The answering meow causes another round of joyous laughter to burst forth from your lips.

You’d think Captain’s initial aloofness would deter Wooyoung but, Captain's coldness only seems to fuel your friend’s determination as he tries everything he can to get Captain to like him—from treats to gentle pets to whimsical trinkets—all in an attempt to win over the feline. Yet, Captain remains steadfast, his indifference to these gestures firmly intact. And it is not as if this attitude is reserved for Wooyoung alone.

Ever since that first trip where he accompanied you, Captain follows you each time you visit Alusia. As you navigate the streets of the town, he treads his own path, a few paces away and often on higher surfaces while you go about your business. The townspeople, on learning of your feline companion, attempt to win his affection, but he doesn’t seem like people (or people touching him), so eventually, they give up trying. However, he still accepts treats from them despite you telling them not to, but the way he looks at you has you quickly going back on your words. How can you say no when he looks at you with his large eyes that seem to hold entire universes within them?

During one such trip to Alusia, a jewellery shop captures your attention for a moment, but as your mind is preoccupied with the bubbling concoction back at the outhouse, you walk past the display without lingering. In your haste, you don’t even realise that Captain has stopped in front of the big window and isn’t following you. It is only the sensation of something amiss that prompts you to retrace your steps, leading you to the forlorn figure of Captain seated before the shop—a sight that tugs at your heartstrings.

A sigh escapes your lips as you crouch beside him. “Would you like to explore what the shop has to offer?” you inquire gently, recognising the twinkle in Captain's gaze as he looks up at you.

Though your feline companion is a delight to be around, sometimes you can’t help but be sceptical of the little guy. You have often caught him reading your journals or tomes as if he understands them, prompting speculation about his understanding of human knowledge. Yet, those notions are quickly discarded when he settles onto the page with a languid yawn. “Cap’n, my books are not cushions for napping,” you always chide him in playful exasperation, only to be met with a dismissive glare and a subsequent shift into your lap. Amongst all his quirks, one stands out—his remarkable understanding of human speech. Whenever you ask him something, he answers with a meow or a hiss (it’s easy to tell which is for which), just like how he answers your question about the shop with a meow.

With a nod, you offer your arms as a welcoming perch for Captain to leap into and enter the quaint shop. The glittering array of chokers fascinates him, prompting you to lead him towards the displays. He studies each piece carefully, and at the end of this impromptu stop, Captain is adorned with a collar—which is more of a choker, really. A topaz moon and vibrant red marigold pendants grace his new accessory, shining beautifully as the sunlight hits them.

For the rest of the week, Captain's spirited headbutts and unabashed demonstrations of fondness keep you on your toes, simultaneously warming your heart and distracting you from your potion-making. His playfulness leads you to scold him gently because you are worried that he could get hurt while you work. “Cap’n, I know you love your new collar, but I need to concentrate on my work, or you could get hurt.” Despite your reprimand, his adoration remains undeterred, but he does quiet down as you work and lingers nearby, a reassuring presence amid your bustling workspace.

Weeks pass, and one night in mid-August, you are jolted from your sleep by a distressing nightmare—a rare occurrence for you as you rarely dream. Gasping for breath, your magic surges instinctively, tethering you to the calming embrace of the forest that surrounds your home.

As your panic settles and you feel calmer than before, you reach for the glass of water on your nightstand, only to be startled when a pair of glowing eyes meet your gaze from the heights of your closet. It’s a familiar sight, yet the remnants of the unsettling dream create a tremor within you.

“Captain Jack Sparrow, you nearly gave me a heart attack.” Your hand instinctively rests over your pounding heart as you chide him, the mixture of residual fear making your voice tremble.

Observing your distress, Captain gently descends from his vantage point to the expanse of your bed. A soft meow accompanies his movements, and his eyes seek yours before he nuzzles his head against your side. Sighing, you relent, succumbing to his affection. Your touch is tender and reassuring as you pet his head gently, “It’s alright, buddy. I didn't mean to scold you. I was just startled by the nightmare.”

Cocooned in the soft cotton sheets, you lay back down to go back to sleep and notice Captain curling up by your side with a gentle purr. His tail encircles your wrist in a protective gesture as if trying to ward off the shadows that threaten to disturb your sleep. From that night onwards, most nights, you awaken to find him nestled by your feet or right by your pillow—a silent guardian whose comforting aura intertwines with the magic that surrounds you. 

Time passes and one season transitions into the next, and before you know it, you’ve been living with Captain Jack Sparrow for almost a year. As yet another summer rolls around, you notice his presence has brought profound happiness to your existence. While he may not be the familiar you once yearned for, he has become a source of unwavering support, and his mere presence never fails to brighten up your days.

However, there’s an unexpected shift in Captain’s behaviour one day, he seems restless, and it only intensifies during the night. Despite your attempts to understand what’s wrong, you can’t seem to figure it out, which leaves you both perturbed and anxious. As dawn breaks, you decide professional insight is necessary and bring Captain to the town’s vet, only to be told that your cat is in perfect health. Though baffled, you’re relieved to know that Captain is not in any particular danger. On your way back home, you venture into the apothecary only to be met with a frantic San and aghast Wooyoung. 

“What's wrong?” You ask softly, only for Wooyoung to burst into sobs as he throws himself into your arms. 

Turning your gaze to San, his weary visage reflects the toll whatever ordeal he has gone through has taken on him. His voice is a blend of exhaustion and urgency as he relays the heartbreaking news to you, “Miyeon vanished in the forest. She had been working on her first test as a witch-in-training and didn’t return.” 

You know how important the test is, for it is the first step in any witch’s path towards the prestigious academy in the capital. San continues to explain that when the young girl didn’t return home, even as the stars twinkled in the rapidly darkening sky, her mother raised an alarm and the townspeople searched for her throughout the night to no avail.

“It’s as if she vanished into thin air, Y/N,” San’s voice is filled with the fatigue of fruitless searching and worry for Miyeon.

Your brows furrow, “Do you have any idea where she might have gone missing?”

San shakes his head with a sigh, “The only thing we found was her bracelet, and that was miles away from where she should’ve been—near the rocky caves close to the mountains.”

The information stirs a gasp from your lips, for the mountains lie nearly fifty miles away from Alusia’s borders. “But that's miles away. How could she have ended up there?”

Weariness is evident in every line of San’s face as he levels you with a sorrowful look, “No one knows.”

Days stretch on, heavy with a gnawing sense of uncertainty, as Miyeon’s absence continues to hang upon Alusia like a dark cloud that just won’t leave. The ominous shadows that loom over the forest deepen as more individuals vanish without a trace, their fates shrouded in a veil of mystery that defies explanation. Countless efforts have been in vain, leaving everyone in a state of collective apprehension. Venturing into the heart of the forest with San and Wooyoung, you’ve even journeyed to the rocky caves where the bracelet had been discovered. However, you find no tangible clues, and the sombre truth of your fruitless attempts sinks in.

Weirdly enough, amidst the sense of dread and uncertainty that surrounds the town and the forest, your cottage emerges as a safe haven. Whether the protective spells you’ve cast around its perimeter have deterred the sinister force or some other unknown factor is at play, whatever has been prowling in the forest doesn’t seem to approach your home. Your heart fills with relief at this, for it ensures the safety of not only yourself but also of your feline companion.

Captain has been venturing into the forest stealthily; however, you’re attuned to the subtle shifts that accompany his absence. Despite your worry, you permit him these solitary ventures as not only is your confidence in his instincts unwavering, but you also know that he wouldn’t stray too far to put himself in jeopardy. True to your belief, he returns to your side by the time you’re done with the day’s work.

However, one day when Captain doesn’t come back home by dusk, you reach out to Wooyoung, informing him that you will set out in search of your cat. Your friend’s apprehension is palpable even through the texts, and he reminds you of the prevailing danger that has claimed Miyeon and others, yet your determination overrides his caution.

Urgency propels you into the forest’s depths as the sun sets even further, washing the canopy above you in shadows that stretch like fingers reaching out to pull you into their darkness. An unsettling hush descends upon the surrounding area, a peculiar silence that leaves you both aware and wary. Your senses are on high alert as you advance deeper into the foliage and look for your cat.

As you spot a clearing in front of you that is bathed in the ethereal glow of twilight, you notice Captain Jack Sparrow in the middle, his attention fixed on an unseen presence shrouded within the trees on the other side. 

“Captain?” At the sound of your voice, his head whips around, his meow fraught with urgency. As he hurries to your side, his head nudging against your leg, you recognise his plea for you to retreat.

“I’m not leaving without you,” you tell him softly but with enough conviction in your voice that elicits a resigned meow from Captain.

He positions himself in front of you, his lithe form a protective barrier between you and the hidden danger that holds his attention. The silence seems to pulse with malevolent energy, and the hairs on your arms stand on end as you brace yourself for what awaits.

And then, from the gap between the trees, steps out a figure that you have only seen within the pages of the books you’ve read—a demon. His arrival disrupts the eerie stillness, his form emanating an aura that sends a shiver coursing down your spine. Horns, reminiscent of an infernal crown, emerge from tufts of his long hair. Intricate tattoos wind their way along his arms like serpents of darkness, and wings resembling a bat's silhouette stretch ominously, casting shadows that dance in tune with the forest’s secrets. The deep crimson glow of his eyes sears a path into your very soul, leaving you trembling beneath his gaze.

Your heart beats wildly within your chest, your senses keenly aware of the danger that emanates from this being. As the realisation that you stand before a high demon dawns upon you, you cannot help but inhale sharply.

Though fear courses through your veins, your mind functions with remarkable clarity. A plan takes shape, and your instinct for self-preservation and the well-being of those you hold dear compels you to act. Fingers trembling, you manage to send a discreet message to Wooyoung and tell him to bring a priest whose knowledge and skills would be able to banish this entity back where he belongs.

Beside you, Captain Jack Sparrow emits another series of hisses, his agitation a mirror to your own. The feline’s protectiveness seems to amuse the demon, for his lips curl into a sinister grin. “You think your feline companion is any threat to me? You’re foolish to think so, little witch.”

Your heart pounds as you face the looming demon. With your makeshift weapon—a sturdy stick—grasped firmly, you weave determination and resolve into your stance. Your gaze shifts to Captain, his eyes reflecting the trust he places in you. Kneeling before him, you utter your words in a hushed tone. “Can you distract him for me?”

Captain Jack Sparrow meets your gaze with unwavering intensity, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. His nod is resolute, a testament to his loyalty and his faith in you. Without hesitation, he catapults himself toward the demon, a feline embodiment of courage and defiance.

With a sharp breath, you drag the stick into the forest floor as you etch a devil’s trap. Each stroke in the soil forms a link in a mystical chain, a barrier that could keep the demon trapped until the priest arrives with Wooyoung. The forest seems to hold its breath, the air thick with anticipation as you carve your intentions into the earth, invoking protection and safeguarding magic into each gesture.

Just as you make the last stroke on the earth, a piercing howl of agony pierces through the silence. Panic claws at your chest as you stand, your eyes locking onto Captain, who now lies amidst the underbrush. The demon’s glee is evident, a sickening grin that sparks a fire of anger within you.

Even as your heart races with a mixture of fury and desperation, his taunting words punctuate the air, “You can’t hurt me either, little witch. You’re too weak to go up against me.”

Your voice, though laced with tremors, carries a fire born of defiance. “You underestimate me, demon. My strength lies in more than just might.”

As the tension builds, you brace yourself, a fusion of anger and resolve fuelling your next steps. For some reason, a smirk dances at the edges of your lips, the action adding to the demon’s simmering fury. His snarl of irritation is a satisfying confirmation that your audacity has hit its mark, goading him into action. Without warning, he hurtles toward you with terrifying speed, and instinct kicks in, your body moving with a fluidity born of desperation as you sidestep his oncoming assault, your heart pounding with a mixture of adrenaline and a fervent prayer for Wooyoung to be quick. He’s your anchor, your beacon of hope, a lifeline that promises light at the end of the tunnel.

Your attempt to land a punch only garners a momentary victory, a fleeting contact that sends a jolt of satisfaction through your veins before the demon's ferocity reignites. Your “fight” with the demon is more of a dance between predator and prey. The demon is tireless, his attacks relentless, and your resilience the only thing keeping you from succumbing to his power.

As you’re trying to catch your breath while also simultaneously dodging the demon’s attacks, a movement in the corner of your vision catches your attention—a graceful, stealthy approach. It’s Captain Jack Sparrow, emerging from the undergrowth despite being hurt himself. You can see the fire in his own eyes as he moves closer to the two of you.

Your focus narrows as the duel intensifies. Yet, in a split second, your world tilts on its axis. The demon’s strike finally lands its mark, and an agonising pain flares in your abdomen as his blade pierces through you. Your gasp of pain mingles with the harshness of your exhale, the world momentarily spinning as you lose your grip on reality.

Amidst the searing agony, a small hope presents itself—a diversion in the form of your cat. Captain’s launch distracts the demon, his collision with the devil turning the tide of battle. A triumphant surge courses through you as the malevolent entity stumbles ensnared within the conjured lines and symbols of the devil’s trap.

Hope blossoms anew as the demon’s growls turn to roars of rage. It’s a momentous turn of events, however, the sweet taste of victory is swiftly tempered by the urgency of your injury. Blood flows from your wound, a crimson river that threatens to drown you in its tide. 

But as darkness threatens to claim you, the forest is pierced by the sound of familiar voices. Wooyoung’s call is a lifeline, as he and the priest, followed by San, move toward the heart of the clearing. Their arrival sparks a surge of relief within you, the fervent prayers you’d cast finding their answer.

For your two friends, the demon, now in the custody of the priest, takes a backseat to the immediate urgency of your wound. Bloodied and battered, you succumb to the overwhelming sense of fatigue that washes over you, your vision flickering as you teeter on the precipice of consciousness. As the world blurs and wavers, you hear Captain’s mournful meows and Wooyoung’s desperate pleas as San works to stem the bleeding. Darkness envelops you, but not before you grasp the hands of those who are by your side, hoping to give them some comfort.

As you gradually resurface from the depths of the unconsciousness, you’re met with a hazy awareness of your surroundings. The soft rustle of leaves, a gentle breeze, and the warmth of the sun’s rays brush against your senses, weaving together a mosaic of sensations that bring you back to the world of the living.

As your eyelids flutter open, the world swims into focus, and you realise you’re laid down in the comfort of your bed. With careful and deliberate motions, you navigate meticulously to take note of any aches along your body. The pain is there, an ever-present reminder of the brutal encounter with the demon, but it’s not as overwhelming as you initially feared.

Summoning the strength to sit up, you’re acutely aware of the effort it takes. Your muscles protest the movement, a chorus of twinges and discomfort that underscore the extent of your injuries. You exhale a measured breath, grateful for the incremental progress that you’ve made in whatever number of days you’ve been unconscious. 

You wonder if Wooyoung or San are downstairs, for you hear movement and sounds drifting through the air—evidence that you're not alone. With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation, you muster the energy to call out. “Hello?”

In response, the sounds shift—a plate clatters in the sink, and footsteps echo through the corridors as they draw nearer. You await the reply with a mixture of anticipation and unease, as the door to your room creaks open, revealing an unexpected visitor who seems as surprised to find you conscious as you are to meet him. The stranger stands framed in the doorway, his presence both enigmatic and captivating. Your gaze sweeps over him, capturing the details that distinguish him from any other human.

His silver hair shimmers like moonlight swept in an artful disarray around his face. His brown eyes are warm and expressive, and his petite nose adds a touch of whimsy to his features, a charming little thing that lends him an air of approachability.

Yet, what captivates your attention most are the silver cat ears that adorn his head. They peek from behind his tousled locks, a hint of something magical, a connection to the feline that has become such a significant part of your life. And there, nestled against his throat, rests the same choker you had bought for Captain—the final object that weaves a thread of familiarity between you and this stranger.

You blink at the unexpected revelation, your mind whirling as it tries to reconcile this silver-haired stranger with the raven-furred feline companion who had been a constant presence in your life for over a year. The pieces of the puzzle rearrange themselves in your perception, forming a new and baffling image that challenges your understanding of magic and reality.

“Please don’t tell me that you’re the cat who’s been living with me for the past year,” your incredulity and confusion are woven into the words that hang in the air between you.

He blinks back at you, the innocence in his gaze casting a surreal contrast against the situation you’ve found yourself in. “Um, okay?” His response is soft, almost timid, and a pang of empathy stirs within you.

“But, you… I didn’t sense a single ounce of magic in you,” you murmur, your words imbued with a touch of bewilderment. The dichotomy between his appearance as a cat and now as a being with apparent human attributes leaves you struggling to grasp the threads of truth.

He shifts uneasily in the doorway, his cat ears betraying his discomfort as they flatten against his hair. As your brain races to piece together the implications of his transformation, Captain—your erstwhile feline friend—interjects with a soft sigh, “That’s because our magic is way different. Nature witches can rarely sense dark magic unless it’s threatening.”

“Oh… WAIT— WHAT DO YOU MEAN DARK MAGIC?” 

The elusive and sinister nature of dark magic indeed renders it undetectable to your innate senses. But to think you had been living with a creature who practised dark magic made you shudder.

“I am a mage, well—I was one until I declined a fae’s advances. They cursed me to live as a cat for the rest of my life,” he confesses, his voice carrying the weight of a burden he’s carried for far too long.

Your emotions teeter on the precipice of uncertainty. Part of you instinctively yearns to distance yourself, wary of the unpredictable nature of dark magic and its ramifications. Yet, another part—perhaps the more empathetic and compassionate side—compels you to understand.

“And how did you turn back?” you inquire gently, the words wrapped in a blanket of cautious curiosity. You observe his response closely, measuring his demeanour, and his expressions, seeking any sign of deceit or danger.

He meets your gaze squarely, his eyes carrying a mixture of vulnerability and sincerity. “I called in a favour another fae owed me. They helped me out and managed to undo some of the curse… but I was to stay a cat until I felt the heartbreak of almost losing someone precious to me,” he confides, his voice trembling with an authenticity that resonates with your intuition.

“Precious?” You echo the word.

The notion seems almost surreal, a subtle revelation that has you momentarily flustered. Your heart flutters in an unfamiliar rhythm, a dance choreographed by the unexpected emotions swirling within you. 

He observes your reaction, a gentle smile playing upon his lips as he regards you with tender familiarity. “You're precious to me, Y/N,” he admits, the words carrying an honesty that sends a shiver down your spine. His gaze is a caress, drawing you into the depths of his sentiment. For a heartbeat, the world narrows to just the two of you, and you find yourself holding your breath.

He probably senses the shift in your breathing and looks at you in concern, so you force yourself to inhale, coughing a bit as you choke. Once he sees you’re fine, he continues, his words laced with a trace of melancholy. “So… you almost losing your life changed me back. Not fully, though, never fully. I’ll still be able to turn back into a cat and then back into this form. That’s what I’ve been doing while Wooyoung and San come to check up on you.”

The notion of him resuming his dual existence as both a cat and this silver-haired individual evokes a sense of both wonder and sympathy. Your gaze lingers on him, searching for traces of the feline friend you’ve known for so long within the person before you.

“Oh…” The word slips from your lips, laden with a complexity of emotions that you struggle to articulate.

He shifts slightly, his demeanour carrying an air of uncertainty as he speaks. “Um… I can leave if you don’t want me around any—”

You interject, the words tumbling from your lips before he can finish his sentence, a resolute assertion that quashes any hint of rejection. “No! I just… I'll just need a while to… uh… yeah.” You gesture vaguely, the swirl of emotions within you manifesting in a flurry of gestures that you can’t seem to articulate into words. He nods at you, and the silence that falls over the room is punctuated only by the soft rustling of fabric as he shifts his weight.

“Would you like something to eat?” he offers, seeking to ground the situation in something familiar. “I'm not the best at cooking, but I make a nice porridge and considering you haven’t eaten in a couple of days, it's best if you have something light to eat.”

Your quick nod is accompanied by a brief departure and a swift return, a bowl of porridge cradled in his hands. When you notice that he’s about to leave you alone again, you can’t help but call out. “Wait.” As his steps pause in response, you invite him to stay with a gentle smile, the words unspoken but the sentiment clear.

Curiosity laces your words as you venture into uncharted territory. “So… can you still do magic?” The inquiry stems from a genuine desire to understand the extent of his transformation and the implications it holds.

He takes a seat beside your bed, his posture relaxed as he contemplates your question. “I haven't been able to use any magic since you got injured. The demon, he hurt me with the same knife he used to hurt you… and uh, I think whatever magic I have sort of reacted with yours…” His gaze finds yours from beneath the fall of his bangs, an unspoken query hidden within his eyes, “Do you feel any different?”

“I can't tell right now…” As silence settles between you, you sense the opportunity to delve further, to uncover a piece of the puzzle that he’s held close. “What's your name?” you ask, your voice soft yet insistent.

“Huh?” He seems momentarily taken aback as if the question isn’t something he expected.

“Your name,” you repeat.

“Kim Hongjoong.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…” The response seems to hang in the air, a bridge between the past and the present, a marker of his identity before the curse that had transformed him.

An uncomfortable quiet follows, the weight of revelations and the unspoken understanding rendering words momentarily inadequate. Seeking a refuge in the familiarity of action, you take another spoonful of porridge, the act providing temporary solace.

Breaking through the silence, he cautiously inquires, his voice softer than before, “Is it okay?” The gaze you direct at Hongjoong carries an unspoken question, “The porridge?” he clarifies.

Your response is a nod as you offer him a tentative smile that reflects your gratitude. “It's really tasty. Thank you.”

Hongjoong’s nod is a humble acknowledgement, his gaze holding a fleeting yet meaningful connection with yours. As the seconds tick by, another awkward silence settles, but this one holds the gentle promise of the unknown.

That evening as the sunset paints the evening sky in hues of purple and orange, you find yourself in the presence of Wooyoung and San. Their eyes, suffused with the relief of your recovering strength, mirror the unspoken concern that brought them here. Nestled at your side, Hongjoong has resumed his feline form, a steadfast source of familiar comfort as Wooyoung tells you about the people who had gone missing. As the priest banished the demon, they were liberated from the captivity of the demon who was using them as a source to draw power. You are glad to know that Miyeon and the others have safely returned to their homes, and the four of you enjoy an evening filled with the warmth of companionship.

As your body completes its healing process, a newfound awareness awakens within you—an inkling that your magic has indeed undergone a transformation. Engaging Hongjoong in conversation about this, you both reach a consensus that teaching each other about your respective magic could be the key to unravelling the intricacies of your unique connection.

You start small, inviting Hongjoong to partake in nurturing the growth of herbs and other flora and having him observe the delicate craft of potion-making. With patience and thoroughness that speaks to the depth of your understanding, you slowly and meticulously introduce him to the art that has been your life’s calling.

Conversely, Hongjoong takes a more theoretical approach. Armed with the wealth of knowledge he has amassed over the years, he embarks on the journey of studying dark magic alongside you. Evenings become an intimate soiree of shared books, a merging of his wisdom and your practical expertise. The pursuit is not without its challenges, especially for him as the concepts of dark magic are both familiar and alien, a delicate dance between his past experiences and his present identity.

Slowly but surely, the awkwardness of your interactions dissipates, and you settle into a rhythm, an understanding blooming from the mutual pursuit of knowledge. Hongjoong’s presence becomes an inseparable part of your magical undertakings, his assistance serving as both catalyst and amplification. The mundane tasks of your craft transform into collaborative ventures that find their completion with newfound ease and velocity.

In this partnership, you both traverse uncharted realms, unearthing hidden gems of wisdom and forging new techniques. You discover the intricacies of advanced protective charms, the nuances of spellcasting, and the delicate balance between the ethereal and the tangible. Every conversation brings new insights as his eyes aglow with passion while he delves into explanations that light up your understanding.

Hongjoong isn’t oblivious to the subtle shifts in your demeanour either, the way your attention seems to gravitate toward his words with an almost magnetic pull. He playfully teases you when you zone out while listening to him, but beneath his banter lies a quiet satisfaction at having captured your focus.

One summer evening, almost two years after you found and healed Hongjoong, you find yourself basking in the warmth of his presence. As Hongjoong delves into the mysteries of Tarot cards, your attention wavers. Mesmerised by his words, your gaze inadvertently drifts to his lips, where the graceful dance of his explanations seems to take on a sensual rhythm of its own. Lost in the tempo of his speech, you’re barely aware of your growing fascination until the sound of his clearing throat breaks through your reverie. Flushing in embarrassment, you avert your gaze, your heart racing at having been caught by him.

Hongjoong chuckles softly, a melodious sound that carries warmth. His fingers, feather-light and tinged with confidence, slide beneath your chin, lifting it until your eyes meet his. His touch is tender, a silent reassurance that dissipates your unease, even as his eyes search yours with an intensity that ignites a flutter in your chest.

The air between you seems charged with unspoken desires, and as Hongjoong’s gaze darkens, your heart skips a beat. His presence is magnetic, his proximity an intoxicating pull that leaves you breathless. The realisation that this is a defining juncture in your connection dawns upon you, your anticipation matched only by the uncertainty of what's to come.

“May I kiss you?” Leaned in so close that his breath dances upon your lips, Hongjoong’s voice is barely a whisper as he seeks permission, his question hanging between you like a promise. His eyes, fixed on your mouth, reflect the yearning that pulses through his veins.

Your nod is almost imperceptible, a fervent agreement that is all the confirmation Hongjoong needs. His lips descend upon yours with a delicate reverence, his touch a gentle brush that sends sparks through your very being. A deep, resonant purr thrums from within his chest, the vibrations of which reverberate against you as he draws you closer to himself.

Hongjoong’s kiss unfolds with a tenderness that contrasts the unspoken longing that has been growing between the two of you. His lips move against yours in a rhythm that speaks of his own vulnerability, each touch conveying a deeper sentiment. But as you respond in earnest, his tongue glides across your lips, prompting longing to flare through your veins.

Your lips part, the connection broken only for a moment as you both draw a ragged breath. Yet, the space between you feels electric, the air pregnant with the promise of what’s to come. Giving in to desire, Hongjoong’s kisses trail along your jaw, igniting sensations that tumble forth as a soft, involuntary whimper. The velvety brush of his lips against your skin seems to write a narrative of its own as if he’s trying to make a home in your very soul.

With a husky murmur, Hongjoong guides you forward, his voice a seductive entreaty that resonates through your core. As his teeth graze beneath the collar of your shirt, a shiver courses down your spine, “That's it, love,” he exhales, his words a sultry invitation to unravel the depths of your desires. “Let me hear you.”

The fervour of your shared moment is interrupted by a sudden, urgent knock on your door. The sound jolts you both out of the cocoon of passion, and you exchange a hasty yet intense kiss as if to imprint the sensation on your soul before pulling away. Breathing heavily, you share a lingering glance before reluctantly untangling yourself from his embrace and heading to the front door, your heartbeats echoing the electricity that still courses through your veins.

As you open the door, you’re met with the sight of Wooyoung and San, their expressions a mix of concern and curiosity. They look at you and Hongjoong with knowing smiles as if they can sense the transformation in the air, but they refrain from commenting. It’s a silent acknowledgement of the intimacy that has bloomed between you, and you’re grateful for their unspoken understanding.

In the days that follow, you and Hongjoong continue navigating your newfound connection. The kiss remains unspoken, yet its imprint is undeniable. The two of you seem to share a mutual agreement to explore this uncharted territory without the constraints of labels or expectations, allowing your relationship to unfurl naturally.

With Hongjoong by your side, every interaction becomes a wordless conversation, every shared glance a testament to the bond that has formed between you. The ease with which you navigate each other’s thoughts and emotions astounds you as if you’ve known each other across lifetimes.

With Hongjoong, you find solace and a rare understanding that extends beyond the realms of mere companionship. With him by your side, life seems to flow effortlessly, and even the challenges that come your way are met with a united front, the strength of your connection acting as a shield against adversity.

As time passes, you realise that what you have with Hongjoong is more profound than any bond you could have hoped for had you connected with a familiar. Yours is a love that has grown from mutual respect, shared experiences, and the unspoken promises that linger between your glances.

You might have longed for a familiar as a young witch, but now you realise that fate had something even better in store for you—a soul who understands you in ways words can never express and a heart that beats in harmony with your own. With Hongjoong by your side, you found the person who complemented your magic, someone who loved you and would go to the ends of the earth for you, and you knew that you’d do the same for him.

[lilacgaby]

Your stories are wonderful ♥️♥️

I couldn't stop reading ✨✨

I was thinking about a fantasy AU, where we have the big dragon bakugou and his tiny fairy friend a Tinkerbelk vibe lol

And what would their routine be like, perhaps scaring away some treasure hunters?

I love your stories ♥️✨

dragonking!katsuki was the most feared king in all the lands. he was strong, wielding a sword he welded with his own flames, magic stronger than a clan of witches, and unforeseen knowledge that always gave him an edge.

how did he get this knowledge you ask? it was a secret to most, however.. only his most trusted dragonknight knew it was because of his pocket-sized fairy, you.

you wore a flower dress of your favorite color, always glowing and shimmery because of the fairy dust you used to keep yourself healthy and flying. you'd found katsuki when he was a prince, he was teary eyed as he sat out in the gardens, upset that his childhood rival had been revealed to have royal blood.

you were lost, still in a white, orchid gown as you slowly flew around, eventually landing on his knee. he eyed you oddly, jumping slightly when you landed on him. though, as he examined you further, he realized that he was being touched by a real fairy. something he'd only heard about in tales he'd hear at night. you spoke to him, though at first he could only hear a bell sound.

he saw you looked frustrated, until smacking your forehead with a "duh!" and flying up to sprinkle him with some fairy dust. after a bit of confusion, he kept his red eyes locked onto you as you cleared your throat. "can you hear me now?" you said, making him speechless. he managed a nod and you continued.

"i don't really know how to get back to my hollow so.. can i stay with you?" you asked, shyly putting one leg behind the other at your request. he sputtered, before managing a, "t-that's cool, fairy girl."

"it's actually [name] random guy!"

"okay [name], uh-- katsuki's fine."

he soon realized not everyone could hear you, and you explained that the fairy dust you used was too valuable to let just everyone use it. he smirked though, happy that he'd be special to you.

you were there as he was sent off on his crowning journey, telling him where to find the best loot, the best resting places you'd remember, and even how to scavenge for food. you'd keep him company through the uncomfortable nights, and he'd carry you in his gloved hands during winter, since your wing's would freeze over.

he'd make you tiny leaf beds and let you sleep a safe distance from his head, he'd make sure you ate and would take you to collect pixie dust from the various trees you'd remember.

with your help, he was the first successful one of all the heirs to help awaken the crimson dragon, officially crowning him king.

he celebrated with you, treating you to maple syrup and finding you the best flowers to finally make you a new dress, topping it all of with a baby's breath crown.

you were always on his shoulder, always hidden by the fur coat he'd adorn. people would find the king randomly smiling as he heard your jokes or comments, but when questioned he'd slam his fist.

the casual day for you two would usually be hunting for treasure. for some reason, fairies were hardwired with amazing intuition that was always correct, so you were like his own metal detector. he'd hold you close to him, a habit he formed after you were snatched out of the sky once by a hawk, and you'd point in the direction you'd need to go.

when he arrived, seeing the pirates already in process of looting the place, he'd ready his magic, whispering to you to get under his coat. he fought off the 20 some men alone, leaving with not only the treasure in the cave, but on the pirates ship too.

as he called his village people to come get their share of the fair amount of treasure, he smiled softly at you, who was now eating some more maple candy he'd got for you on top of his thumb.

he owed it all to you, his fairy.

can you tell i loved this req??? ty for the support always <3

[josefiendelphine]

The elf Hill legacy challenge!

🌿 Welcome to "The Elf Hill" Legacy Challenge! 🌿

Greetings, Simmers! 🌟 I’m thrilled to introduce my newest legacy challenge: The Elf Hill! This magical, fantasy-inspired journey will take your Sims through generations of elven heritage, steeped in nature, lore, and enchantment. 🍃✨

What’s the challenge about? Your legacy begins with a single elf, chosen to carry on the traditions of an ancient, mystical elf family. They live in harmony with nature, far from the hustle and bustle of the modern world, deep within the hills. Over the generations, your Sims will explore their bond with the earth, build a legacy filled with magic, and protect their elf roots.

Challenge Highlights: 🧝‍♂️ Start with a founder who embodies the wisdom and grace of the elves.

🌸 Embrace nature by growing your own food, caring for animals, and avoiding modern technology.

🔮 Each generation has unique goals, from mastering ancient elf magic to preserving their mystical hilltop home.

🏞️ Build and design a natural, earthy home that feels like it grew from the land itself.

💎 Explore relationships, friendships, and rivalries with other magical creatures along the way.

This challenge is perfect for those who love storytelling, fantasy worlds, and unique gameplay! Get ready to embrace the elf lifestyle and create a beautiful, nature-bound legacy. 🌿✨

Ready to begin?

Head over to my blog or insta for the full challenge rules and share your Sims’ journey with me using #ElfHillChallenge! I can’t wait to see the magical legacies you create. 🧝‍♀️💫

Thank you for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy this enchanting new challenge! 🧚‍♀️💖

Want to read it better -> Do it here!

[homunculus-argument]

Fantasy story where one of the first opponents that the protagonist happens to encounter on their journey is some obnoxiously boastful and vain self-proclaimed romantic Hero Adventurer who is The Greatest Fighter and keeps stressing how everyone knows it. Only fools ever dare to challenge him, because they should know they'll meet their end. The protagonist accidentally does something completely innocuous that gets this Hero Adventurer to go full "how dare you, don't you know who I am?" and the whole tavern gasps when the protagonist just goes "yeah no I have no idea who you are."

This, obviously, is an insult grievous enough to demand a duel.

The protagonist decides that there's no way to back down from this with dignity, and simply braces for the inevitable defeat. And unexpectedly thoroughly kicks this guy's ass. Like at first it seems like the Hero Adventurer is holding back, like a cat playing with his food before going for the kill, but no. This is legit all that this guy has got. So while he wasn't lying that everyone who has ever challenged him has been a fool to do so, all he has ever been is the second most incompetent fool in the room. And the protagonist is so mad about having been genuinely scared for their life over this buffoon that the beat-down becomes far more brutal than it had need to be.

The Hero Adventurer weasels away, defeated and humiliated, supposedly to never be seen again. But way, way later in the story, the protagonist and their crew show up to a new place, and somehow someone recognises them, asking the protagonist if they were the one who beat The Undefeated Hero Adventurer. There's audible gasps around the room when the protagonist confirms that yeah, I remember that guy, I think I was too brutal on him.

Turns out that the Hero Adventurer did not just flee the scene and resolve to never speak of this humiliation again. He is simply not the type of a guy to keep his mouth shut. He's been going around everywhere telling people about this absolute demon that managed to defeat him. Everyone who knows that he is The Undefeated Champion is awed and horrified of what entity could beat down a man that no mortal could ever defeat.

And every time the protagonist tries to go "ma'am, I am literally just some guy", the people who have heard of them just go "ah yes, we were warned about that. You lure your victims with false modesty, taunting them with this guise of a simple harmless fool, tempting them to take the bait and challenge you so you may tear them apart in a duel."

People seem to have disagreements about whether the protagonist is actually some sort of a superhuman demon in a human guise, or just an insanely good master fighter. They're neither, but nobody's willing to believe that.

[imtrashraccoon]

Whew! It's over...don't mind me but I'll probably be taking a few days off writing again. Thank you so much for coming along on this journey with me! I learned so much and had so much fun! It's definitely given me so many ideas for future projects...

There will probably be an announcement post coming soon... (ﾟ⁠οﾟ⁠人⁠)⁠)

@owl-bones

First Day & Previous Day.

Bad Sansuary: Free Space - Snuggle

Word Count: 3,301

Feat. Everyone!

You were relaxing in your room with a book you'd borrowed from the library after dinner. This high fantasy series Nightmare recommended was seriously good and once you'd started, it was incredibly hard to put down. Well, unless someone interrupted you that is...

There was a playful knock at your door, pulling you out of the story and back to reality. You knew exactly who had chosen to bother you and a part of you wanted to just pretend you had gone to bed early so he'd leave you alone. But...that wouldn't be very nice and you could always read later on before you did actually go to sleep.

With a sigh, you slipped a book mark made from laminating the pressed flowers Axe had given you between the pages and hauled yourself off the comfortable couch to go answer the door. The knocking grew more insistent until you finally threw it open and fixed Killer with your most exaggerated grumpy face.

"What's so important that you would drag me from the realm of Middle Earth just to see you?" you grumbled.

Killer shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and smirked. "hm? oh i was just bored out of my mind, angel face~"

You sighed and ran your hand down your face. "So, you want me to help you?"

"nope."

"What? Then...why did you come see me?" Now you were really confused and you stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for him to break and claim he was just messing with you.

"i wanna have a movie night and almost everyone else has already agreed. so...?" He wiggled his bonebrows in a playful way until you finally relented.

"Alright, I guess that sounds like it could be fun."

No sooner had you agreed did Killer take your hand and nearly drag you into the common area. You protested from the suddenness, but he only laughed and barely slowed down at all. It seemed you'd have to revisit Middle Earth another time.

"she said yes!" he announced to the other three skeletons.

Axe and Dust seemed to have been trying to figure out which movie to watch, but by the looks of things, they hadn't been able to come to a decision. Nightmare was casually lounging on one of the couches watching the two of them. All three looked up at the news and Axe smiled at you.

"guess i could whip up some snacks. do ya wanna help, lil' chip?" he asked.

You shrugged and glanced over at the tv to see what they had narrowed the choices down to. "Sure, but what movie were we going to watch anyways?"

Dust, Axe, and Killer glanced at each other before saying different titles at the same time, none of which you'd ever heard of before. They then proceeded to start arguing over which was the better movie.

Nightmare sighed and shot you a look that seemed to say "See what I deal with?" You gave him a sympathetic smile before clapping your hands to get the other's attention.

"Why don't we watch all of them and just turn this into a movie marathon night?" you suggested.

Thankfully, your idea seemed acceptable and they nodded in agreement. Even Nightmare seemed suitably impressed which made you quite happy to have solved the argument.

"guess we should start on those snacks then," Axe hummed and started for the kitchen.

"dusty and i could go pick up some pizzas and pop if you're fine with that?" Killer suggested and glanced at the aforementioned individual, who merely shrugged.

"sure, do what ya want," Axe rumbled, not even bothering to stop and look at them.

The two disappeared to presumably go get the food and you went to follow Axe into the kitchen, although not before glancing back at Nightmare. He gave you a bit of a disinterested look before getting up and leaving the common area.

You frowned and started to go after him to figure out if something was wrong, when Axe called out for you.

"ya comin' lil' chip?"

"Yeah, I'll be right there." You hesitated for a moment before hurrying to the kitchen. It seemed you'd have to check in on him later.

You helped make some buttered popcorn, cut up some fresh fruit, and arrange some cookies that Axe had made earlier on a plate. By the time you were done, the other two skeletons had returned with a couple of still hot pizzas and two bottles of pop. You didn't question where they'd likely pilfered them from and neither did Axe, as the answer would likely be either unpleasant or exactly what you suspected they'd done instead of paying like proper monsters.

Just as you were helping to arrange the food where it would be easily accessible, Nightmare reappeared with his arms and tentacles full of various cushions and blankets. While you were a little surprised, you were also glad to see that he was interested in participating in the fun afterall.

It didn't take long to make the floor by the tv extra comfy and get situated. Axe was content to lean against the couch where his large frame wouldn't be blocking anyone. Dust claimed a beanbag chair, which practically swallowed him up, and you were pretty sure he wasn't planning on moving anytime soon. Killer, being the absolute gremlin that he was, went about stealing as many pillows as he could to make a makeshift pillow nest for himself. At first, Nightmare chose the couch, but when you all but insisted that he should join everyone else, he relented and eventually chose to copy Axe, leaning against the couch instead.

Two problems quickly became apparent though. Problem one was that no one could agree on whose movie choice to watch first. Problem two was that you could tell each of the boys wanted you to sit with them.

You really didn't want what was supposed to be a fun evening devolving into a jealous fight. So before anyone could actually get upset, you decided to try and take charge.

"How about this... To keep things fair, I'll just swap places for each movie so that I can sit with all of you in turn," you suggested. Unfortunately, your attempt at a solution wasn't nearly as effective as you'd hoped.

"sooo...who gets to have the cutie to themselves first?" Killer asked. He had a dangerous look on his skull as he spoke and while his tone sounded light, even like he was almost teasing, you knew him well enough by now to know that he wasn't playing around.

"definitely not you," Dust growled and sat up a bit, his gloved hands digging into the bean bag.

Even Axe seemed to stiffen up and his good eye socket narrowed into a harsh glare at his loud-mouthed colleague. His clawed phalanges twitched slightly, as if aching to wringe a certain someone's neck or curl around the handle of the weapon of his namesake.

While Nightmare remained silent, you could tell by the way his tentacles were twitching restlessly, that he was at the very least mildly annoyed by this situation. His cyan eyelight flicked to you and the intensity of his gaze was almost enough to make you want to shrink into yourself. His expression held something else though; a look that you couldn't quite place but one that seemed to suggest he was scheming about something.

You swallowed and managed to tear your eyes away from his piercing gaze. Raising your voice again, you cried out, "No fighting! I have another idea...you should all play rock, paper, scissors to determine the order."

They glanced at each other but no one protested. After playing a few rounds, an order was established, minus Nightmare, who claimed he didn't care when his turn was. Killer won each time making him first, Axe was second, and Dust was third, much to his frustration. Nightmare was content to go last, which of course nobody protested over.

Killer was all too happy to welcome you into his nest. His arms fit snugly around your waist, teasingly close to your pelvis, although he otherwise kept his hands to himself and just continued spooning you during the first movie.

Speaking of, the movie was one of those corny horror movies. It was full of gratuitous violence with plenty of obviously fake gore. Still, you couldn't help but cringe whenever the monster attacked the very doomed side characters. Killer was quick to soothe your nerves with soft whispers of encouragement and occasionally making fun of the many cliches present in the film. Overall, the experience left a sort of thrill coursing through your veins and you were admittedly a little disappointed when the movie was over, a sentiment Killer seemed to mirror, although he attempted to hide it.

Axe had picked a tamer movie, although that wasn't saying much as there were more jump scares than the previous one that never failed to startle you. Still, Axe was also very good at comforting you and multiple times throughout the movie, you felt his eyelight watching your reactions just to make sure you were okay.

You ended up snuggled up against his left side with his hand around your back and resting on your left hand which was on your thigh. You wrapped your right arm around his broad back and laid your head against his ribcage, which inadvertently meant you could listen to the soothing hum of his magic that emanated from his soul.

At some point during the second movie, you glanced over at Nightmare and were a little surprised to find that he seemed a bit bored. It was odd because you had assumed he'd actually get some sort of satisfaction from witnessing how terrified the protagonists of the film were.

He sensed your gaze and glanced over, tilting his skull in a silent question.

"Are you okay?" you mouthed.

His eyelight flicked back to the screen and he shrugged. "It's manufactured fear... I can't gain any benefits from attempting to absorb it," he murmured. When he glanced back at you though, a subtle smirk formed across his skull and he went to say something but stopped himself when Axe took notice of the conversation.

You were momentarily fascinated that there was that much of a difference. Would it be any different if it was a live broadcast and the actors didn't know what was going to happen? You'd have to ask him about it sometime.

You glanced at Nightmare a few more times throughout the movie and occasionally caught him looking a little amused. The boys weren't easily spooked but the rare times one of them was seemed to coincide with those little moments. You figured he was the one who hadn't exactly wanted to have a movie night, however he'd seemingly decided to go along with it anyways. Probably under the guise of this being a group bonding activity like any good boss would host. The thought was actually kind of funny to you now that you knew them all a lot better.

Dust's movie of choice was definitely a thriller, and while you didn't mind the change, it made you feel really anxious, which you hated. It was about an old cop trying to solve a series of murders apparently perpetrated by the one criminal he had failed to bring to justice years prior. The plot was certainly intriguing at points and you could see why he had picked it.

You'd been right on the money earlier when you'd assumed he wasn't planning on budging from the comfortable beanbag for a long while. That was fine of course since he didn't really need to move in order to actually cuddle with you. His idea was for you to sit in his lap so you'd be as close as possible, which you'd expanded on and chosen to sit side saddle. It meant you could both hold each other and he'd get to watch your face, so he didn't protest at all. You wrapped one of your arms around his shoulders and he sort of mimicked the gesture, except he supported your back, leaving your other hand free to hold his other one.

By the time of the fourth movie, which was a classic monster movie about a mad scientist and his creation, you noticed something strange. Save for yourself and Nightmare, everyone else seemed to doze off, almost at the same time too.

Turning to the only possible perpetrator, you narrowed your eyes suspiciously. "Did you...put them to sleep?" you hissed under your breath.

His grin seemed only to grow more smug and even without him saying anything, you knew your suspicions were correct.

"Indeed~" he purred. "It is said that good things come to those who wait. They had their fun, so now I get to have mine..."

Your heart skipped a beat at the deliciously dark tone of voice he'd used. It was at that moment that a flock of butterflies decided to assault your insides with their delicate wings. You'd managed to control yourself with the others but now that you were technically alone with him...well, you weren't sure if that was possible anymore.

He pressed his skull against your hair and growled low in his throat. "I had to watch them hold you so close all this time... Have some empathy, dear..."

A chill went down your spine from the possessive tone of his voice and your tongue felt heavy like it was made of lead. Even if you could complain, he probably wouldn't even listen to you.

Nightmare pulled you into his lap yet again, which seemed to be his preferred method of holding you for whatever reason. Maybe it was because he could cage you in with his arms and tentacles so you couldn't escape. Or maybe he just liked the feeling of having you so intimately close to him. You tried not to dwell on it, partially because you liked it too.

Neither of you said much of anything for a little while, being content to enjoy the closeness and intimacy of this rare moment in time.

He was the one to break the silence first. He seemed to grow restless the longer you went without saying anything and his tentacles twitched with pent up energy, leaving you wondering what was really on his mind today. Then his clawed phalanges hooked under your chin, gently turning it so he could make eye contact and ensure he had your full attention before he even attempted to say anything.

"My dear, I cannot see into what the future holds, but I believe with all my soul that you'll fit in here. You've won over each of my boys in your own way and they've come to care a great deal for you in return."

He paused to take a breath before continuing. "I'm not normally a very...romantic person... But, even I can admit that I care a lot for you. No matter what you think, you matter to us and you've made a difference in our lives...for the better. I hesitate to use the word 'love' as I don't, and maybe can't, exactly feel that...but you will always be safe under my care."

He drew closer to you, his touch growing more tender now, and his tendrils slowly undulating against your clothing. "I promise, dear..." he murmured, almost against your lips, before closing that final distance.

For a moment, you were frozen in place as your brain tried to process what all he'd said. You caught on quickly though and wrapped your arms around his cerebral vertebrae so he wouldn't pull away too soon. You felt him stiffen ever so slightly but he soon relaxed into your embrace and actually deepened the kiss further.

It was over much too soon. You had to separate to catch your breath, although he didn't seem winded in the slightest. There was a soft cyan glow colouring his otherwise dark cheekbones and you could also see a small spark of what you thought might be true happiness in his eyelight.

Neither of you said anything for the short remainder of the film and you snuggled up against him as close as you possibly could get. Your soul was practically leaping for joy in your chest at the implications of what he'd said. You'd been assured by the others, but now you had definitive proof that he really did like you afterall.

Whatever magic he'd used to put everyone else to sleep seemed to fade as the end credits began to roll. One by one, the boys stirred before waking up, although you could see they were still a bit drowsy from the effects of the spell.

"Nice of you all to join us," Nightmare remarked with a chuckle and lightly squeezed your body against himself one last time.

They could only seem to respond with a cacophony of various tired grumbles, which even you had to admit was a little amusing.

Dust was the first to move and his mismatched eyelights scanned the room before locking onto you. The intensity in his tired gaze was nearly breathtaking but you couldn't read what could possibly be going through his mind right now. He dragged himself to his feet and managed to shamble his way over to you like a dead man walking. He ended up collapsing half on top of you so that his skull was resting just above your knees.

As soon as Killer realized what he'd done, he dragged himself over to you as well, plopping himself down on your shins with his skull resting on one of his arms so he could still look up at you. Interestingly, the black ooze that always leaked from his eye sockets had slowed to a meer trickle now, possibly from sleeping?

You were slightly flustered by all this contact at once but there was still one skeleton missing. Glancing over at Axe, you saw that he seemed to be conflicted. His eyelight flicked from his two colleagues to you and back again, while his large hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.

You couldn't exactly reach for him but you motioned with your chin to try and reassure him that you didn't mind if he wanted to join in. That little push was all he needed to scoot over and wrap both you and Nightmare in a big hug.

The aforementioned god let out a low growl of annoyance at basically being smothered and his claws pressed into your waist in a vain attempt to keep you to himself. Yet, he didn't shove any of them away, even though he was plenty strong enough to, as demonstrated when he used his tentacles to move some of the boys and yourself into more comfortable positions.

You couldn't move even if you wanted to and definitely wouldn't be able to for a while. Your eyes were finally starting to grow heavy, but still, you resisted the tempting allure of sleep to enjoy what had turned into a snuggle pile.

It was obvious that all four of them felt strongly about you and if the events leading up to the movie marathon were anything to go by, this wouldn't be the last time you'd need to intervene. Each of them were equally stubborn and also quite dangerous when provoked, which could quickly lead to hurt feelings or injuries.

You would have to either get good at breaking up future arguments or simply pick one of them and stick with your decision. Unfortunately, you didn't want to pick one over the others as you liked each of them equally. You'd have to give this matter a lot of thought.

You were confident you'd make the right choice though...

[fitgirlfemdom]

✧∘* ✧･ﾟsoft/sfw feeding tips✧∘* ✧･ﾟ

i'm gonna be honest, i haven't been feeling the best mentally. i also feel that a lot of my posts, although rooted in fantasy, are not exactly realistic or doable for a lot of feedee/feeders. that's why i wanted to explore the softer, fluffier sides of this kink, since these are a lot better to do publicly and help the efficiency/longevity of a feederist relationship.

-going out to dinner and ordering for your feedee. asking what they want generally, and deciding what they want based off their tastes. you can decide the amount, based on your budget. make sure the restaurant or eatery is one your feedee prefers (i.e. don't force them to eat Mexican food if they like Italian). by doing this, it 1) sets up a clear power dynamic between both parties that is healthy and mutually beneficial, and 2) helps both parties learn more about each others preferences. note: i would not recommend ordering alcoholic drinks for feedees, as they should choose themselves based on their own limits. overeating is a lot less dangerous than alcohol poisoning, and everyone's tolerance is obviously different.

-if you're planning on going out for drinks, plan to make them a meal beforehand. this shows that you not only care for their wellbeing, but also brings you closer emotionally before a night of debauchery. drinking alcohol on an empty stomach can cause a number of health issues, as well as exacerbating the negative effects of alcohol use. cooking together is also proven to strengthen relationships by enhancing communication skills and providing quality time alone.

-plan a charcuterie board together! take note of what snacks your feedee prefers, such as nuts, cheeses, dried fruit, crackers, dips, etc. you can also order one online if it's too much of a hassle. by planning a charcuterie board specifically, you can learn what type of snacks your feedee truly enjoys, as well as trying new foods alongside them (or just watching their reactions).

-pack lunches for work. if your feedee works in an office space or a job where there is a clear lunch time, prepare their foods for them based on their known preferences. this builds your relationship on trust, communication, and establishes a clear power dynamic. if packing lunches isn't your thing, or you don't have enough time or energy, set your DoorDash to their place of work and send them surprise orders (this is, of course, much more expensive, but can be a nice treat every once in a while).

-listening to your feedee's views on their journey throughout your relationship. sometimes, a feedee may discover that they aren't comfortable with this lifestyle, and that's okay! other times, a feedee may be comfortable with certain aspects, such as food play, but not others, such as force feeding. sit down and have a conversation with your feedee about their feelings regarding your partnership regularly. they trust you and place a large amount of power in your hands--the best way to reciprocate is to make them feel safe in your control. feederism may also just be a small part of your feedee's life, and they may only want to participate in it a few times a month. this should also be taken into account.

-encouraging confidence in their new body outside of kink. sometimes feedees have a humiliation or degradation fetish regarding their weight, but this should not continue in everyday situations, unless agreed upon. ask your feedee their favorite parts about themselves physically, but also mentally and emotionally. tell them your favorite parts about them, and vice versa. conversate about how this kink lifestyle makes them feel about their image of themselves, and orientate your approaches to feederism based on this.

i hope you enjoyed reading! have a good day! <3

[tianasimstreehouse]

Occult Recipebook

Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and caldron bubble.

INTRO

Occult gameplay is up there with one of my favourite ways to play. Food is a part of our Sims lives, and should also be for occults so that they can cook up their preferred foods.

This Occult Recipebook is a collection of custom recipes (food and drink) for Occult Sims in the Sims 4.

I have started off this occult culinary journey with: ✨SPELLCASTERS✨

I have plans to later create foods for each occult life state, so I will keep adding to the recipe book.

“Spellcasters” as a life state can be played in so many different ways: they can range from gnarly evil witches who practice black magic and eat bird entrails, to happy little fairies who live in cottages surrounded by woods and flowers! I have tried to include a little bit of everything in the recipes I have created. These foods are a mix of fairy, fantasy, green garden witch, apothecary, or black-magic sorcerer etc. 

They effect Spellcasters and/or human Sims in many weird and wonderful ways.

E.g. Nettle Tea which helps teenagers suffering with acne, Milk Thistle Biscuits which leave the consumer with prickly thistles in their tongue, and Eye of Newt Soup which most Sims will find disgusting but which Spellcasters will happily slurp up.

RECIPES

39 new recipes for your Spellcasters!

~ Realm of Magic is required for these recipes ~

**there's a fair amount of pack-integration, and be sure to read the pack recommendations on the Patreon post for each recipe** to make sure nothing is missing or glitching.

Meals Dandelion Salad - increases SCs gardening skill, fills PlantSims' hunger Nettle Soup Soft-Boiled Golden Eggs - makes Sims glow and glitter Pumpkin Pasties Pomegranate Halves Eye of Newt Soup - makes other Sims feel sick Valerian Root Pie - other Sims won't like this dish Elderberry Jam Toast Toadstool Soup - inspires SCs, normal Sims won't like this dish Salamander Stew - other Sims won't like this dish Spiced Honey Bread - SCs will gain all skills faster Raised Newt Pie - makes other Sims feel sick Dragon Livers - Werewolves will love these and normal Sims won't Raised Phoenix Pie - Sims will randomly breathe fire for a while and feel confident

Desserts Milk Thistle Biscuits - chance to get uncomfortable thistles in tongue Huckleberry Jam Cream Puffs - makes SCs playful Fairy Bread Soul Cakes Huckleberry Pie Juniper Berry Jam Biscuits Honeycomb Cakes - SCs will gain all skills faster Valerian Custard Tart Toadstool Cookies Cursed Cookies - wouldn't recommend eating these... serve them to enemies! Eating one may leave the SC eater cursed. Good Sims will sense the evil inside and get sad Canning *Requires Cottage Living Canning Skill Gooseberry Jam Elderberry Jam Rosehip Jelly Drinks *Bar/alcoholic drinks require Mixology skill, and a Bar. Acorn Coffee (*coffee machine) Pumpkin Juice Willow Bark Tea - A home remedy to cure most illnesses, food poisoning etc Sage Tea - soothes stress and anger, SCs are focused and improve logic skills faster Nettle Tea - helps teens suffering from acne Lavender Tea - makes Sims flirty Mugwort Tea - reduces fear or panic Butterbeer - gives SCs confidence Mandrake Ale Nettle Wine Dandelion Wine Elderberry Wine

INFO & DOWNLOAD (early access): https://www.patreon.com/posts/79514896?pr=true Milk & Cookies: Now! Sugar Cookies: May 24th Public: May 31st

Pro tip for Windows PC users: Please make sure to delete the MACOSX folders/files that can appear after you extract the mod's files, otherwise the game may throw an error and not load at all.

TRANSLATIONS Polish - ❤️ Daisy1728, find their translation over here French - ❤️ Heidi / LuniverSims, find their translation here

[jo-harrington]

Peak Sales Hours (Eddie Munson x Store Manager!Reader)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: After his first Black Friday, Eddie is exhausted and takes comfort in his new relationship with you.

Previous Part: Promotion

Warnings/Themes: Established friendship/new relationship, fluff, hurt/comfort(?), idk it's a lot of comfort, working in retail hell, Eddie works at Tape World and Reader is the Store Manager at Claire's in Starcourt Mall, angry customers, weariness

Note: So...hi guys. Welcome back to the Store Manager Verse. This little installment is sort of skipping a step. I had a whole thing planned and half-written of Eddie and our favorite SM actually confessing their feelings and being fluffy...and it's still gonna happen I'm just...on day whatever of work and have a big deadline and have had sleep for lunch the past I-don't-know how many days.

And it just took me back to the countless Black Friday and Peak Holiday shifts where all I wanted was to get back home. So here we are.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

___

Never, in his entire life, had Eddie Munson felt more akin to the heroes from his favorite fantasy stories.

Long journeys and harrowing battles.

Deep wounds and comrades lost to the beyond.

Hoards of villains and the promise of a better future if only there was hope.

Taran. Aragorn. Luke Skywalker. They had seen it all.

"What's taking so long? I just need a gift receipt!"

But none of them had ever worked Black Friday.

He had experienced Black Friday before, as a shopper.

Thanksgiving hadn't ever been anything magnificent in the Munson household, especially after his mom died. Wayne and Rick had always tried to make it still feel special for Eddie, with hearty midwest comfort foods.

There would always be a full belly and an even fuller heart with his uncle and his almost-step-dad around. Eddie could never complain.

Then after a late afternoon dinner, Wayne would pack up a plate of leftovers to make his shift at the plant that paid time-and-a-half, plus a little something extra from the plant manager, cash in hand. By the time Eddie woke up the next morning, Wayne would pull up with a box of fresh donuts, honk three times, and they would be on their way to the Kmart on Rt 9 and get some steeply discounted goods with Wayne's holiday pay.

It was always a madhouse, but Eddie could swiftly dodge screaming kids, empathize with over-caffeinated employees, and wait in long lines if he and Wayne didn't need to fret about things like work boots and gloves, t-shirts and underwear, and usually one nice little Christmas gift for each of them.

This year, of course, had been a little different. Wayne had been a little disappointed--he would never admit it, but Eddie could tell--that their tradition would be forsaken for Eddie's shift at the mall. But your addition into the Thanksgiving festivities had been a welcome one.

Eddie had extended the invitation weeks ago, when you mentioned you wouldn't be able to make it home to spend the holiday with your family thanks to work.

You, of course, promised to pull your weight--

"It's always really casual," he tried to ease your worries as you began to fret over what kind of dessert Wayne and Rick might like. "You don't even need to dress up. Come in your pajamas. Rick makes a really good pumpkin pie, and I have my mom's old scalloped potato recipe that will literally put you in a food coma."

"What about turkey?" you asked.

"We don't really do turkey." He shrugged. "There's only three of us. So we do different things every year. Rick usually catches some kind of fish if it's warm enough. Wayne has a good recipe for fried chicken. We were thinking of doing meatloaf..."

"I can do the meatloaf!" You perked up immediately.

--only to show up laden with a roasting pan for the meatloaf, a plastic-wrapped gravy boat full of some kind of mushroom gravy, a salad, and a casserole dish overflowing with green beans, cream-of-something soup, and heaps of french fried onions.

Eddie, of course, scolded you as you shuffled through to the kitchen, much like he had the first time you showed up for dinner at his place. But he also placed a soft peck on your lips, which earned him a bashful smile as you shoo'd him away.

That was a new development to your...friendship, if you could even call it that anymore. There really hadn't been time to discuss the logistics between the frenzied makeout session in his van outside of the Hideout this past Tuesday night and Thanksgiving dinner.

Now that he had been trapped at the cash wrap, ringing out ungrateful customers for the past 8 hours, he was almost loathing his past self for wanting to be a little discreet in front of Wayne and Rick. For not...making himself have the "what are we" conversation with you, because your lips had soothed every frazzled nerve he had the other night.

Knowing that at the end of the day that he wasn't going through it alone, that his girlfriend was also in the mall suffering through the mass chaos and that he could go upstairs and steal a kiss whenever he wanted...well it certainly would have done him a world of good to mentally prepare him for this.

For the entirety of his time working at Tape World, he thought he had been doing a pretty good job. Sure there were some hard days, some rude customers. But at the end of the day, an 8-hour shift was an 8-hour shift, and he was only selling tapes. Not...ending world hunger.

"Ah you say that now," Kyle told him on Wednesday as they were putting together cardboard "dump bins" for the discount tapes that would be placed every 10 feet in the store. "But Black Friday is a beast, and Christmas Eve is worse. You're honestly lucky you only work here and not at, like, Radio Shack or something. My buddy Todd has seen some shit.

"Actually, I'm almost regretting scheduling you as a mid but I needed a second key." Kyle rubbed the back of his neck. "Peak Hours. Mid's a rough shift for Black Friday weekend."

"I'll be fine," Eddie scoffed. "I've done mid shifts before. I'm almost excited. How bad could it get?"

Famous. Last. Words.

He had barely been able to squeeze into the store when it was time for his shift, the line for the cash wrap blocked the way to the stockroom door. As soon as people saw his name tag, they started shouting at him to open the other register, how they needed help; he could barely get a word out to explain that he wasn't clocked in yet. They didn't care.

He was no longer Eddie Munson, Tape World Keyholder and your boyfriend, probably, maybe...

He was a body who could unlock the electronics case and ring them out.

He was a husk who said "welcome in" and "thanks have a great day" and smiled until his face started hurting.

And for the first time since he had gotten this job back at the beginning of summer...it really fucked with him.

His legs were cramped from standing at the Cash Wrap for so long, he wasn't sure which of the associates had his keys, his hair was damp with sweat even if he threw it into a some haphazard bun hours ago.

He'd been yelled at by more people than he could count, counted so much change the edges of his fingers were pretty much stained from all the muck and grime on everyone's money, and had made so many returns from people with buyer's remorse that he was sure they had given more money back than they had made in sales today.

Eddie hadn't even gotten a chance to take his lunch out in the mall and pay you a visit like he typically would. He had just collapsed in the little metal folding chair in the break area of the tiny stock room. Kyle had clapped him on the shoulder with a quick "good job kid" as he left for the day and Eddie hadn't even moved.

"Alright Ed," Paulie shuffled over as Eddie wrapped up the last in a long line of transactions and was about to wave the next customer over. "Quitting time."

Eddie sighed and backed against the counter as Paulie counted him down. The adrenaline of the day finally started to wear off as he came to realize that it was all over, and a weariness unlike the one he had been feeling his entire shift settled deep into his bones.

He went through the motions as he went back to the stockroom to grab his jacket and punch out. He wove his way through the still-crowded store and out into the mall, sighing in relief as the cooler mall air hit him.

It was gonna be a mercy once he got out to his van. He'd drive home with the windows down.

His ears rang as he headed towards the employee entrance and he wondered if it would be worth waiting in line at the Orange Julius before he left or if he should just stop through the McDonald's drive thru or something on his way home.

"Eddie."

But then, he didn't really need to stop for anything. There were leftovers from Thanksgiving dinner at home. He could smoke a little bit, make some kind of meatloaf sandwich, and then sink into his bed.

"Eddie."

And sleep until...

Fuck.

He was gonna have to do it all again tomorrow. And the day after that.

He thought back to his favorite fantasy heroes and wondered how they did it. How they put themselves through endless journeys, practically sacrificed themselves time and again.

And he could barely make it through a shift at the Starcourt Mall of all places.

"Eddie!"

He crashed right into your hands as you planted them on his shoulders and prevented him from absolutely barreling into you.

"Jesus are you ok?" you exclaimed and pulled him off to the side of the walkway to get out of the way of foot traffic.

Was he? Probably not.

"Yeah," he shook his head and answered. He finally looked at you, finally actually saw you. Dressed in your Teen Vogue best, as you called it, although a little worse for wear, if the eyeshadow smeared where it definitely shouldn't be and your jewelry all askew was any indicator. "Yeah I'm fine.

"You sure? You looked like you were in a trance," you explained. "I've been calling your name for a little while."

"Oh shit," he sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Yeah, no...it's...It was just a long day."

You didn't hesitate. Your arms immediately wrapped around him and you pulled him in. Pulled him back from whatever precipice he was about to launch himself off of, and straight into the comfort of you.

---

Before long, Eddie found himself in your apartment, fully upside down with his legs propped against the wall as he enjoyed the Blizzard he'd picked up on the way.

"You know just cuz you can hold it upside down, doesn't mean you're supposed to eat it upside down," you laughed as you filled a pot with water and put it on the stove.

"And what are you, the Blizzard expert," Eddie scoffed. "If you'll recall I was the one who took you to Dairy Queen for the first time."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." You rolled your eyes and turned to grab some cans from the cupboard.

You had offered to make dinner--again--while he vented about his shift. Nothing as spectacular as what you made for Thanksgiving dinner, but it left the leftover meatloaf for Wayne to take for his lunches.

"You're lucky I like your spaghetti sauce," Eddie grumbled, a little sad that he couldn't have his meatloaf sandwich.

So he talked as you ran to your bedroom to rid yourself of the remnants of who you became when you were at Starcourt, and as you emerged the person that, he liked to believe, was reserved especially for him.

He told you about the back to back returns he had dealt with when he came back from lunch as you dropped dried pasta into the boiling water and grated garlic into sizzling oil.

He complained about the man who demanded help from a manager only even though all he wanted was a special edition cassette deck that had all the bells and whistles and anyone with keys could help him. His voice got louder and meaner as he quoted the jackass verbatim, but the sharp strike of your wooden spoon against the side of the pot brought him back down to earth.

And as he finished up his story about having to count Sam's register three times because he forgot that there were large bills under the cash tray, you joined him on the couch with a bowl of steaming hot pasta for each of you.

He righted himself and discarded the empty blizzard cup on your coffee table.

"First Black Friday in the books," you announced and you passed the bowl to him. "I'm proud of you."

"Proud?" Eddie groaned. "Seriously? It was a disaster."

"They always are," you explained sagely.

"You survived," he pointed out.

"So did you."

"Barely."

"So?" you asked and twirled noodles on your fork expertly. "Doesn't that count? This is, like...my 5th Black Friday? My 6th? I count each one as a victory. And so should you."

You leaned over to kiss his cheek, then clinked plates with his in a salute, and then the two of you fell into contented silence as you ate.

As Eddie worked ravenously through the layers of starchy, cheesy, garlicky goodness, he realized that the weariness that had settled within him after his shift had started to alleviate. How he felt more like himself now that he was sitting next to you, basking in the warm glow of your company.

He briefly considered this ritual the two of you had been engaging in for months. The way you shared stories and foods and got closer to one another. He had always been a little worried that things would change if he ever got his wish, if this friendship with you ever became more.

But it was like nothing had changed at all.

He wanted to ask, was tempted to ask, what this was? If this was a date, like all the dates that weren't dates hadn't been before? If you were his girlfriend now?

But then...he recalled the time that you had a bad day and you immediately found relief in him, how he thought that he didn't need to be your knight as long as he could be your home.

And Eddie realized that whatever the two of you decided it would be, whether you were still just his friend, or if you were his girlfriend, or maybe...maybe something else...

You, too, would always be his home at the end of a long battle.

---

Next Part: Disaster Preparedness

Tag List for Store Manager Verse is still temporarily suspended. Thank you for understanding.

[i-luvsang]

like a dream — kang yeosang

pairing : dryad!yeosang x gn!reader ➖⟢ genres : fluff, angst, fantasy, strangers to lovers ➖⟢ cw : mythological inaccuracies, food mentions, borderline controlling parents, scary encounter with dark fae, kissing, pet names ➖⟢ wc : 13.3K ➖⟢ for : the stuck in summer collab held by @a1sh1teruu ➖⟢ special thanks : to @yuyusuyu for beta reading !! <33

bonus : inspo pinterest board & playlist

about dryads : in this fic, dryads retain their core attribute of being nymphs/spirits of trees, their life force being connected to the tree they reside in. they differ from traditional greek mythology here, in that they can be in the image of any gender (not just women), and are considered to be a type of fae.

it all felt like a dream, like magic. the summer haze that fell over the quiet countryside, the trees rustling softly with the gentle wind as twilight fell. the cool water of the lake in your hair, fresh strawberries from the farm just a short walk away, and more than anything at all, him. his smile, the twinkle in his eyes, and, like a miracle, his hand in yours.

admittedly, it didn’t feel that way in the beginning. to be whisked away to your practically estranged grandmother’s home in the middle of nowhere was never what you imagined for the summer between high school and the start of your college journey. you left the day after graduation, still vividly angry with your parents as they shooed you onto the train.

“i swear i’ll be fine on my own! mingi’s parents offered to help if i need anything while you’re gone,” you protested, trying not to let them hand you your already packed bags.

“your grandmother has already prepared to have you. you are getting on that train. we paid for the ticket, you’re all packed, and we are not letting you stay home alone for two and a half months,” they refuted. you had wanted to argue more, maybe bring up a new point, but by then, you had said it all, and despite your recent entry into legal adulthood, your parents still held far too much sway over you.

the train ride is long, dreadfully so. despite the glory of the city fading and gradually being replaced by tumbling hills, trees, and fields, you cannot help but curse it all in your head, too wrapped up in self-pity to love the sights in the way that you normally would.

a woman that you barely recognize from your childhood greets you at the bus stop as the sun begins to dip low in the sky. she’s sweet to you, but not overbearingly so. during the ride from the station to her home in her small, run down car, you do your best not to act coldy to her, trying to remind yourself it’s not her fault that your parents dumped you into her care for two and a half months.

by the time you arrive, the sun has set, and she has grown on you more than you would like to admit for how adamant you’ve been in hating everything about your current situation. she understands that spending the summer with her is not your ideal by any stretch, and she promises she’ll do her best to make you comfortable in any way she can. the way she says it all is kind and genuine, and you’re grateful to see that she’s far more understanding than your parents have been all month leading up to this.

she allows you to settle in for the first few days, showing you around the need-to-know basics of the sweet cottage she lives in. she’s seemingly unbothered by the way you spend most of your time in your room on your phone, bemoaning your unfortunate state to your friends over text or the phone.

but it only takes her five days to have you falling in love with the place around you. the first two are for your sulking, the third for getting you to come out of the house and take a look at her gardens. the fourth day is for a walk to a nearby farm to purchase fresh produce (the strawberries being your favorite), and the fifth is for the sunset.

it’s glorious, and you have no choice but to admit it. after a freshly cooked meal, eaten on her porch as the heat of the day finally begins to subside, she asks you to stay and watch the sunset with her. you agree, even if the sun won’t set for another hour, now aware that you don’t mind spending time with her at all. you talk as you have been for the past few days, the conversation easy and never forced. when a breeze cool enough to feel like an early manifestation of the night rustles the leaves on the trees and the clothes on your body alike, you wonder why your parents ever distanced you from her at all. 

she doesn’t let the conversation die out even as the sun truly begins to set, and you like it that way. it feels natural and gentle to have the colors become brilliant in the sky as you learn to accept and love the place you have been plopped into for the summer.

it’s not half as bad as you imagined. though you still feel bouts of jealousy for the adventures your friends are having without you and bitterness aimed at your parents for not allowing you to experience this summer the way you wanted, you try to heed the silent advice from your grandmother to make the best of your situation. she never says that out loud, of course, knowing you’d hate to hear it, but she gives you ways to do so each time she shows you a new beautiful thing.

in the second week, you muster up the courage to ask her over dinner if you’re allowed to go into the forest behind her house by yourself. the day before you went on a short walk into it together, and you felt as though you’d fallen in love with it. she does nothing to hide her smile at the question. 

“of course!” she delights. “it’s very safe, it’s quite hard to get lost so long as you don’t stray too far and stay on the paths. almost all of them lead back here or to the main road. i’ll show you tomorrow.”

she sticks to her word, as always, and takes the whole day to show you around the closest areas of the woods. from that day forward, the forest becomes yours. while your grandmother loves it, some stretches are more difficult for her to navigate in her older age, so most days you explore it on your own.

when you’re in the forest, the adventurous side of you comes out. of course, you’re still full of caution, but you are not immune to the allure of a bit of well-calculated risk taking for the sake of tree climbing and wandering off the path just a little bit.

the things that pull you off the path are simple; flowers, mushrooms, long stretches of moss, and the likes. usually it’s something you’d like to capture with the digital camera your grandma has lent you for the summer.

this time, it’s where the furthest navigable path begins to change direction to lead you back home. right where your grandmother told you it’s best not to stray any further. but it’s not far from the path at all, just a small patch of mushrooms that you’ve missed up until now. you make your way over without a second thought, pulling out your camera and snapping a quick picture.

when you stand back up and look out over the small downward slope just a few feet away from you, something else far more special catches your eye. you hesitate this time, knowing that you won’t be able to see the path if you climb your way below it to examine the white flower that you see on the edge of your vision. but you can’t resist the allure, too curious about the single, out of place bloom. so, taking note of your spot at the top of the slope to make your way back to it easily, you carefully make your way down and across the stretch of your vision to confirm your suspicions about the flower. up close, you take in its appearance, and while you’re not an expert, you know enough to tell that it’s a dahlia. 

it’s curious, to say the least, to see the white flower fully blossomed when your grandmother had shown you the short dahlia stems in her garden, telling you that you’d be lucky to see them bloom before you left. in response to the phenomenon, you take your time to snap a few photos to show your grandma the early bloom.

once satisfied, you stand from your bent over position and grin when you see a butterfly fluttering deeper into the forest. you take a few steps towards it, trying to get close enough to identify it, when a deep voice interrupts you.

“i wouldn’t recommend going much further from the trail.” the voice is gentle, but it still startles you into whipping around in surprise. you take in the figure standing a few feet away from you. the first thing you notice is that he’s absolutely gorgeous, features soft and beautiful enough to rival the looks of the fairies in the set of paintings hung up in your grandma’s hallway. but that does nothing to aid your surprise. he is, after all, a stranger in the middle of the forest who has somehow approached you in complete silence.

“who–,” you choke the word out, nervous and not even sure what you want to say.

the soft smile on his face shifts into a look of light regret. “sorry. i didn’t mean to startle you. i live close by,” he explains.

“oh.” this doesn’t explain why you couldn’t hear him approach, but you let it slide by chalking it up to the fact that you weren’t paying much attention to anything but the flower and the butterfly. “my grandmother never mentioned you.” 

“was she supposed to have mentioned me?” he asks, the hint of a teasing lilt in his voice.

you clear your throat a bit awkwardly. “well, no? i mean, maybe. she told me about everyone else who lives in the area,” you tell him. you’re a bit offended she never mentioned a boy so strikingly handsome. 

he hums in acknowledgment. “i don’t go out much,” is all he offers in information. you look him up and down, growing a little suspicious under his gaze with all of these vague answers. he looks perfectly normal, dark brown, almost black hair that falls down to his cheeks in the front and wearing simple clothes. he sports a mossy green t-shirt and dark wash jeans that make him look like he belongs in the forest. he looks confident and comfortable where he stands, as if he knows every inch of this place. maybe he does, granted his claim that he lives close by.

“i mean it, though,” he interrupts your train of thought. “it can be hard to find your way back to the trail if you go any further than this.”

“ah. right,” you nod. “i was just looking at this flower. i thought dahlia’s didn’t bloom until august.”

his reaction to your words is odd when it looks like an expression of nervousness flashes across his face. but it disappears so fast you take the time to wonder if you’d just imagined it.

“usually,” he confirms, “but sometimes they bloom early here.”

“interesting,” you muse, curious again what could be the difference between the forest and your grandmother’s garden. a moment of silence passes between the two of you, and it seems there’s nothing left to say. plus, you’ve got to get home sooner than later to be in time for dinner.

“i guess i’ll get going then.” you point vaguely in the direction you came from.

“right.” there’s silence only interrupted by the sounds of your foot falls as you begin walking away, already thinking of the many things you’ll have to tell your grandma over dinner. the early blooming flower, the somewhat strange boy. he pulls you right out of your thoughts once again with his melodic voice. “i’m yeosang, by the way.”

you turn around to face him, surprised when you’re met with what you could only describe as a bashful expression on his face.

“oh!” you give him your name, not even having realized the two of you never really introduced yourselves to one another. “i’m staying with my grandma for the summer.”

“well,” he echoes your name, and the way it rolls off his tongue in that deep voice of his has your heart jumping in a way you hadn’t expected at all, “see you around.”

“mhmm,” you agree, suddenly eager to meet this stranger again. “see you!”

with that, you turn and make your way back up to the trail, and when you glance back around to seek out his pretty face one more time, he’s nowhere to be seen.

—

when you arrive back at the cottage, it’s just in time for you to help your grandmother set the table for dinner. the food is aromatic and fresh as always, but even the watering in your mouth at the sight of it isn’t enough to distract you fully from your odd encounter in the woods. it’s hard to hold back from telling her all about it the second you got home.

but, you don’t have to wait for long. once you’re both settled at the table with food served and a few bites eaten she asks you how your outing went today.

“actually,” you begin eagerly, “it was quite eventful. and before i say anything else, i promise i stayed within sight of the trail.” she raises an eyebrow at that, but you can see the smile tugging at her lips that tells you to go on. “i saw a dahlia off the path. it was white and in full bloom. i have pictures to show you after dinner! do you think there’s a difference between your garden and the forest?”

“really? that’s fascinating,” she ponders, “i’m not sure if there’s any difference besides maybe the soil, but that’s still unusually early for wild dahlias.”

“that’s what i thought,” you agree. “but grandma! i met some guy while i was looking at it. do you know someone named yeosang who lives around here? he didn’t seem much older than me.”

“ah!” she claps her hands in recognition. “i’m surprised you met him. i’ve never met him myself. i’ve heard he lives in a small cottage in the forest. according to anyone who’s seen him, he's quite a recluse, but still kind.”

“he was a little bit odd. but nice, he seemed to mean well,” you pause a moment before deciding to go on, “but grandma!” you let out a light laugh, “he was… he was really cute.” you’re downplaying the extent of his beauty, but you’re not really one to call a man you just met “gorgeous” in front of your grandma, no matter how fitting the word truly is.

“well, well, well,” she laughs, “have we found you a summer crush?” she teases.

“that’s not what i’m saying,” you refute. “i’m just saying he’s good-looking. maybe he comes across nice but has a rotten personality!”

“i hope that’s not the case!” she lets out another laugh. “maybe you can get him to get out of his shell and get to know the people he lives around. he’s so young, it must be hard for him to live alone.”

“he’s alone?” suddenly a new wave of curiosity and even concern crashes over you.

“well, as far as we all know. i feel so sorry to say it, but he’s so rarely sighted and even less talked to that i think many of us forget about him. i’m sure he’s a kind boy and could use a friend like you.”

you hum absentmindedly at that, already wondering if you’ll run into him again.

but it’s not until the next morning, once again making your way to the deepest point in the forest you’re allowed, that you realize you’re starting to hope to see him again. you find yourself far too curious about him, wanting to know more, looking for his fairy-like features every corner you round.

you reach the spot where you stepped off the trail yesterday, pausing to wonder if he’s more likely to show up here since it’s where you saw him first. it feels a bit silly when you shuffle to the edge and bring your foot over into the vegetation right off the path. 

“you don’t have to leave the path for me to show up.”

you can barely process that the tone of his voice is genuine, not teasing like the words themselves might suggest, as you nearly trip over nothing when you’re startled into spinning around too quickly.

his smile is sheepish and apologetic when you lay your eyes on his face. “sorry.” the boy—yeosang, you remind yourself—doesn’t have to explain what for; you recall his apology last time for surprising you like this. 

“how are you so quiet?” you wonder aloud, voice curious and void of any accusatory tones, not bothering to keep the question silent this time. you hope it’s not rude to ask, but he just shrugs.

“i’m just used to moving like that, living out here.”

it’s not a very clear or enlightening explanation, but you brush it off regardless. there’s a moment of silence as the two of you just peer upon the other, a hint of curiosity in his eyes that mirrors your own features.

“so…,” you begin, hoping he doesn’t mind if you ask more questions, “you seem to be quite at home here … how long have you been living here?”

“my whole life,” yeosang must sense your surprise at that answer, so he continues speaking to explain, “my parents were, well, recluses, and since they moved out a few years ago, i seem to be following in their footsteps. that’s why most people around here—like your grandmother—don’t know much about me.”

suddenly, you decide you don’t want this to be a short lived conversation. as you ask a new question, you take just a few short steps to sit on a flat rock at the edge of the trail. he follows in suit, taking his place right on the forest floor, leaning his back against a tree directly across from you.

“do you prefer it that way, then?”

he pauses, as if he doesn’t have an answer prepared for that. “i guess,” he shrugs. “i’m used to it.”

“so you don’t get lonely? yknow, living alone now?” you’re surprised by the questions that spill out of your mouth as if without permission. they’re not the kind of thing you normally ask pretty boys you’ve just met. but, more than that, you’re curious about the way the features of his face reflect the internal debate he must be having as he tries to come up with an answer to your question. it’s either as if no one’s ever asked these sorts of questions, nor has he thought about the subject at hand at all. or maybe there’s an answer he could give, but would rather not. you suppose it’s the former option, if he’s really been so secluded from all the people around him for his whole life. 

“sometimes,” is the cryptic, too-simple answer yeosang decides to give. but, as seems normal with him, his voice and the look in his eyes are laden with much more. you feel crazy for thinking it, but it feels like he’s saying, “sometimes i’m lonely, but most of the time i’m alright. either way, it’d certainly be nice to have someone else around. you, maybe.” you hope that’s what his eyes are telling you, but you could just be pushing your own feelings onto him because you don’t want to be the only one who feels that way. you love your grandmother’s company, but these days you’ve been missing in-person interaction with friends your age. 

“sometimes,” you nod, mumbling the word under your breath. for a moment, you let the air fill with bird calls and the rustle of leaves in the breeze. “so, mr. yeosang,” you speak louder, weaving a bit of playfulness into your voice, “since you’ve been living here your whole life, is there any chance you’d be able to show me around the forest. you know, off the trails.” you watch as a soft, almost hesitant smile makes its way onto his lips.

“sure,” he replies, his answer short as always and turned into something meaningful by the borderline innocent, and certainly sweet look on his face. yeosang’s glad you asked, he just doesn’t say it out loud.

“cool,” you grin. eyes drifting down to examine the plants beside your feet, you wonder what you’re supposed to say next. but that’s no longer a worry when he speaks up first.

“we can start tomorrow,” he proposes. he rushes to follow up, with a kind, “if that’s alright with you, of course.”

your smile grows at his consideration, the light worry in his voice that he hasn’t been perfectly kind to you. in your eyes, he certainly has.

“that’s perfect,” you assure him, “i’ve got practically nothing to do all summer long, anyways.” 

“great.” he sends you a smile that catches you completely off guard. or rather, it’s your own reaction that surprises you. the way the curve of his lips and the sparkle in his eyes sends your heart racing. on second thought, maybe hanging out with the prettiest person you’ve ever laid eyes upon isn’t the best idea you’ve had. of course, that thought is completely wiped from your mind when his melodic voice meets your eager ears again. “you know the giant rock at the fork between painter’s path and luna moth trail?” you nod quickly at his question. “we can meet there, then.”

“sounds good!” you chirp, then glance up to the sky between the treetops to check if the afternoon sun has begun dipping low enough to force you back on the trail homewards. sighing, because you’re just a little bit disappointed your time with him can’t last any longer today, you tell him it’s about time for you to head back and bid him goodbye.

“see you tomorrow,” he calls softly after you. his words send a rush of excitement in the form of flitting butterflies to your stomach, so you rush off, wondering what’s gotten into you. butterflies? already?

—

the next morning, you wake with yeosang already on your mind. the first thing that you realize is that you never set an actual time to meet with him. it was just “tomorrow.” you let that slip up worry you for a measly thirty seconds as you pull the cream colored sheets away from your body. but the way that the morning sunlight sneaks into your room through the white curtains and illuminates the framed artworks above your dresser steals that prick of worry away, replacing it with something akin to whimsy. somehow, you’re sure he’ll know when to meet you. and if not, by some chance, you wouldn’t mind waiting for him one bit. 

after a quick breakfast and a hasty goodbye to your grandma, you grab your bag, already packed with your usual supplies of water, lunch, and your camera, and rush out the back door. by now, most paths are familiar, and you easily make your way to your designated meeting spot. that boulder is clear in your memory, as well as the pictures of it captured by your camera. you adore the way that the moss grows on the intimidatingly large stone and the view of the forest floor from the top when you managed to climb it last week.

it’s a delight to find him already there, perched up high at the exact spot you ate your lunch last thursday. it takes up all of your willpower to keep from pulling out your camera and capturing the image of his practically divine figure, soaking up both the sunlight that filters in through the leaves and the dappled shade that the trees provide. once again, you’re struck with just how much he appears to belong in this forest, as if you couldn’t imagine him anywhere else but here.

he’s already looking in your direction when he comes into your line of sight, and you’re reminded of how you don’t have his talent of traveling through the brush in complete silence. the subtle wave and soft smile that he gives you sends a rush through your body. you return the wave, now more eager than ever to explore the forest with him as your guide. he tells you to wait at the path for him, disappearing for only a moment before reemerging from the side of the boulder in mere seconds. you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to look at him without his beauty throwing you off momentarily like a breeze that rustles your clothing out of place just enough that you have to stop a second to collect yourself.

“you ready?” he asks, the tone of his voice not helping you to respond normally. you clear your throat unnecessarily before answering.

“mhmm!” you nod your head enthusiastically. “where to?”

the light smile on his face quirks up so that it’s almost mischievous. “a surprise?” he says the words like a question, both to sound extra teasing but to also leave you room to protest if you really want.

your grin grows. “if you insist.”

he smiles wider too. you get the inclination that his smile will be the death of you someday.

it surprises you just how easy it is to talk with yeosang considering how flustered his presence makes you sometimes. but you don’t complain at all; instead, you soak it all up the same way you do with the new scenery that comes when you part from the path. he’s a wonderful listener, clearly content to hear anything and everything about you with the way he asks actually interesting questions and retains every detail that you provide him. of course, you hate to be the only one talking, and you hate not to hear more of his voice, so you’re sure to engage him to talk about himself. he’s intelligent with his words, reserved with how much he says, but speaking volumes in just a sentence or two. the simple things are nice too. you get to learn the way he pronounces words like lychee, syrup, and caramel and he gets to learn how much you love fresh fruits for dessert and that you hate frosting unless it’s homemade and not too sweet.

you’re about to ask him if he likes rainy weather when he tells you to wait for just a moment. you nod, and he pulls himself up to the top of the shallow ravine you’ve been walking through. it’s taller than the both of you, and the grace in which he climbs to the top is impressive. he crouches at the edge and extends his hand out to you. you flush when you realize you’re supposed to hold his hand. trying not to think too much about it, you reach up to place your hand in his. it’s alright for a split second, but when his deep voice meets your ears as you keep your eyes level with the vegetation in front of you, your heart begins to hammer in your chest. you almost don’t catch what he says.

“if you put your left foot on that rock by your knee, i can pull you the rest of the way up,” he advises. you hope he doesn’t notice the slight buffer in between his words and when you actually follow his instruction. but he’s right, it’s easier that way and you’re standing at the edge of the small cliff seconds later, just far too close to him for your heart to come back to its normal resting rate.

“thanks,” you breathe out, voice quieter than you expected it to be. but he hears you easily with your body pressed against his and only the rustle of leaves sounding through the forest. 

“of course.” you feel a bit better knowing that his voice has come out almost as hushed as yours, as if there’s something special about being this close to one another. as if this is something you both would rather not brush off as nothing. instead, being close to him is something, it means something. what it means, you’re not sure, but you do know that despite the nervous fluttering of your heart, being near him is safe and filled with peace.

you try not to hate it when he pulls away because you feel strange that you’re so attracted to him barely three days into having met him. yet, you question the harm of it. who’s to say you can’t have a summer love under the leaves, with a quiet, gorgeous boy who seems to have taken a liking to you too? certainly not you.

when you turn to face the direction he’s looking in, a different type of excitement takes over your mind. there’s still a bit of a ways left, but there’s no doubt that what you see in the distance is the sight of sunlight catching on water.

you spin your head to face him again. “there’s a lake?”

he lets out a light laugh at the clear excitement in your voice. “i think i’d classify it as a pond, but yes. we’re close to my favorite part on the shore.”

“perfect,” you grin. you let him continue to lead the way, reminding yourself not to get ahead of yourself in the case of unexpected landmarks like the kind he’s been steering you clear of the whole way here. he seems to know every little thing about the forest, easily guiding you away from roots, rocks, and the likes that you would probably trip over were you alone. that’s just a small reason you’re so glad to be with him.

when the trees break and you’re met with a small patch of land between the trees and water, you pull in a gasp of awe. the following breath comes out as a contented sigh. he’s right; the body of water isn’t nearly big enough to be classified as a lake. but that doesn’t take away any of its glory. the lily pads are blooming and the trees lining the edge are beautiful in contrast to the water. and you could fall in love with sunlight reflecting off of any water every time you see it, and this time is no exception. it’s just that maybe you’ve fallen in love a bit more than you normally do, knowing that this place is tucked away, almost a secret. knowing that you’re discovering this place with him, and knowing that there’s more. suddenly you’re curious.

“have you ever shown this place to anyone else?”

the question seems to catch him off guard, and you instantly wish you’d bitten your tongue before letting it slip from your mouth. you wish you’d just told him that it’s beautiful, that you love it, that you’re grateful he’s shown it to you regardless if you’re the only one or not. but then there’s a light smile on his face.

“no,” he answers, “there are people that know about it, of course, but i’ve never shown it to someone.”

you nod, thankful he’s not upset that you asked, but instead seemingly glad to answer instead. as if he’d like you to know you’re the only one, but he’s too shy to bring it up himself. as if he’s glad that you’re asking because it means that you want to be the only one.

“well, thank you for showing me. i love it.” you let that hang in the air and hold back the questions that you still have because you want him to know that you mean it.

“i’m glad you love it,” he says, voice sincere as always. and the silence isn’t the kind that you hate, it’s the kind where you both know that the quiet is right because you’re both basking in the beauty of what’s before you, you’re basking in the fact that it feels like the person beside you is willing to understand you and if feels like they’ll continue to do so. you’re basking in the silence because all of it feels right, feels like a fairytale, like a dream. because how the hell do you meet someone twice for so short of a time and then talk for hours when you see them next? how could silence already be comfortable? turns out it just is.

for you, it turns out the quiet boy is always kind, is always willing to listen, and always willing to answer. it turns out that he never tires of showing you new places like the bubbling creek and he doesn’t mind that you love catching frogs and salamanders just to hold them for a moment. he must think it’s cute that you find them cute every single time. he tells you about the types of moss and lichen that cover the boulder over twice the size of the one you meet at nearly every morning. he obliges when you want to go back to the pond to wade in the water and look for tadpoles in the shallows. he knows that you’ll love that one clearing in the middle of the deep trees that always filters in the rays of the sun just right so that it always appears to be straight out of a fantasy movie. and he loves to take you to the willow tree.

the moment you told him it was your favorite spot, yeosang thought he’d kiss you right then and there. but he knew it was too soon. before then, you’d only held hands, first as you ran through the forest to his small, bare cabin to escape the rain, then shyly a few times more just because it felt nice.

you’re holding hands now as you near the willow for the millionth time in the last month since you’d met. it’s a normal occasion by now, as you claim to only be grabbing his hand because it can get cold in the forest, but the two of you know it’s because neither of you can get enough of it. you’re just too shy to admit anything like that.

it doesn’t take long for you to settle at the trunk of the tree; the routine of sitting side by side in the grass with lunch splayed out in front of you is easy and natural now. once the food’s all gone, you’ll sit and talk for hours until you have no choice but to head home. today is no different, the same motions are there, along with the butterflies in your stomach that always come from sitting so close to him, his voice practically right in your ear as he goes on about something that you love to hear. but today he seems quiet, pensive. it’s almost as if you can feel the way that thoughts swirl around in his mind, like you can see it in his eyes as he silently eats the sandwich in his hand. he’s a bit far away, in a way that’s not quite bad, but not good either. you wish he’d tell you what’s on his mind.

you let it sit for a while, understanding of the want to just be. to let oneself be quiet without the pressure to hold a conversation. but you also want to help. you don’t want him to feel like he has to hold in whatever he’s thinking of if he doesn’t want to.

“what’s up?” you ask, voice light and airy as if to show him that you’re giving him space to do as he wishes.

“do you believe in magic?” the question slips out of his mouth as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. yeosang’s gaze avoids yours, staring straight forward as you peer at him. you take in his features the same you that you always love to. the lines of his profile perfectly catch the light of the sun that streams through the delicate leaves of the willow. your gaze drifts from his ridiculously dainty eyelashes to the unique curve of his nose and finally to the lips you haven’t been able to get out of your mind since the time you named this place as your favorite. 

when you said that two weeks ago, you’d been sitting like you were now, shoulders and thighs brushing together. he didn’t say a word, but he turned his head to meet your eyes and suddenly he was leaning close, closer than he’d ever been. but a far away look flashed through his eyes, one that mirrored his gaze now, and he let his lips curve into a sad smile that you still don’t understand. then he moved away, and said, “i’m glad,” and you knew he meant it.

suddenly, you realize you’ve let his question hang in the air for too long, lost like always in thoughts of him. you pause a moment longer, wanting to answer truthfully and thoughtfully.

“i want to believe in magic,” you admit. “though i guess it could depend on how you define magic. like actual fairies and spells and storybook tales that aren’t real—or that we don’t know if they’re real—or things like this. to me, this is magic. the sun lighting up the leaves and the side of your face, and the beauty of this tree. to me, magic can be the way someone makes you feel. but if we’re talking about the other kind … i want to believe in it. i wish it were real but it’s kind of hard to believe in it when i’ve never seen that kind of magic. i’m a hopeless romantic in some ways. i’ll still imagine that fairytales could be real, that if i hope hard enough i’d see a fairy living in a toadstool fairyhouse. but i still like proof, so i settle with that hope.” once you let out your long-winded answer, you realize you’d probably never say that to anyone else. that happens a lot when he asks you questions.

something in yeosang’s gaze changes and he’s not so far away anymore. if anything, there’s that last word you spoke reflected in his expression. hope. like that’s the perfect answer for you to have given him.

“i like that way of thinking,” he says, voice soft and honest. you want to ask him if he believes in magic, but for once the question stays stuck in the back of your throat. it doesn’t feel like he’s ready to give his answer and you’re a bit bewildered as to why, but you let him be. you always let him be when that far away look interrupts his smile.

exhaling lightly, you let your head tilt to the side until it’s fallen onto yeosang’s broad shoulder.

“it’s nice to hope,” you say, wondering if his heart could be beating as fast as yours is.

“it is.” then his head is resting on yours and you wish that summer would never end. you don’t know it, but he wishes the same in a far more desperate and bittersweet way.

—

today, you’re meeting him at the willow rather than the normal spot at the boulder. you readily agreed when he asked if that would be alright with you, confident in finding the way on your own. the confidence was warranted, as you’ve walked there many times and the journey has been smooth from the beginning. you know you’re almost there when you pass the bend in the creek with the young maple tree hanging its branches over the water. it’s only a few steps later that something catches your eye.

instantly you’re reminded of the first time that you met yeosang, a fully bloomed dahlia coming into view. this time it’s dark in color, the deep red-ish undertones of the petals visible even from your vantage point. without a second thought, you pull out your camera and clamber your way over to the regal flower, surprised you’ve never noticed it before. now that august is right around the corner, it’s far less odd to see a dahlia bloom, but now that they remind you of yeosang you can’t help but want to capture the pretty sight in your camera.

as you focus your gaze into the viewing piece of the camera, you frown at the dark lighting that you can tell will be reflected into the image. there was plenty of sunlight filtering through the leaves just moments ago. you pull the camera away from your face to reevaluate your surroundings, confused.

without warning, everything begins to grow dark, like the once artful shadows of the forest are multiplying and expanding right in front of your eyes. it’s like when a storm approaches and the sun is swallowed up by thick clouds, but it’s not a darkening of the sky that swallows you up, but rather the shadows themselves.

fear hits you like a truck, and your heart hammers in your chest because you know instinctively that none of this is right. i need to get to the willow, is all you can think, and yet the moment you resolve to run, it’s as if you can’t tear your eyes away from the flower in front you.

you wonder if this is what it feels like to be under a spell, a real one, a dark one. nothing like the spell of falling in love, nothing like the feeling of being stunned into silence from one glance at those glorious eyes of his.

“you’re a lovely little creature, aren’t you?” a horrified chill runs up your spine when the dark, thin voice permeates through the air just like the unnatural shadows. you dare not look up to where the voice came from, though you’re not even sure you could look away from the dahlia. sharp, shallow breaths escape your mouth as you panic. it feels like you’ve been thrown straight into a nightmare. you shut your eyes tight and beg in your head to please wake up, please wake up, i have to wake up.

your eyes almost snap open when the voice speaks again, sinister and demanding. “don’t be so afraid. look at me.” but you realize that with your eyes closed, you’re no longer being pulled towards the flower by your transfixed gaze.

so you turn and run.

opening your eyes doesn’t do much to help you, the darkness that’s wrapped around the trees is not too different from the dead of night. you trip over roots and get whacked in the face by low hanging branches, stumbling along in the direction you can only pray is back to the safety of the willow. you’re not even sure why you’re so convinced that the tree can save you, but you have to run somewhere.

it feels like a miracle when you see the shadows begin to thin in the near distance. the promise of daylight prompts you to push yourself to run faster. and you think it’s working because you haven’t heard anything but your own rapid footfalls and heavy breathing. the light is getting closer.

but something as firm as metal shackles latches itself around your upper arm and you can’t control the scream that rips from your throat as you’re yanked into darkness again. this time the darkness is solid, wrapped around you like spindly, immovable arms. then the darkness speaks and you realize you really are being held by something.

“you’ve wandered too far for me to just let you go like that. humans.” the last word is spit out like something disgusting and covetable all at once. then you realize the last word makes it sound like whatever freakishly tall and strong thing holding you captive is not human. that would make sense if there were other things in this world that could talk but aren’t human. but that’s not real and this has to be a horrifyingly realistic nightmare.

you struggle in the grip he has you in, desperate to get away. “let me go!” you scream. he just clicks his tongue.

but then he does. his arms release you and you almost crumple to the ground with how weak your knees are with fear. you try to run, but suddenly he has his hand on your chin, forcing you to look up at him and you can no longer move of your own free will.

his face is striking, beautiful even. his black eyes are so empty it feels like they’re burning holes straight through your soul. he looks human. almost. but he's at least 7 feet tall and his face is framed with shadows rather than locks of hair. his robes seem to be shifting and swirling like black smoke. he himself seems to be shadow. and those eyes are certainly not human. just like he’s the black dahlia, you can’t look away.

“that little dryad thought he'd scored himself a sweet prize, didn’t he?” he tilts his head as he asks the rhetorical question, one that makes absolutely no sense to you. “a shame you wandered too far from his tree. i can’t believe he let you walk alone so close to the border. getting you to cross it was far too easy,” he croons. the first tree that comes to your mind is the willow and you have to shut out the wild thought that this monster is talking about yeosang. yeosang who loves the willow tree, yeosang who asked you to meet him there, leaving you to walk the whole way on your own. yeosang who you first met at a white dahlia bloom.

thoughts of him crowd your mind, pushing out the darkness bit by bit. so you concentrate on everything here that’s felt opposite to this nightmare; everything dreamlike. in your mind there are rainstorms watched from the safety of your grandmother’s porch, frogs from the creek in your hand, and sunlight dappling the forest floor. there’s the shining pond, fresh strawberries, and priceless sunsets. there’s his hand in yours, his breath on your cheek, and the branches of the willow tree swaying in the breeze. and then there’s nothing tying you to the darkness, so in desperation, you bolt, praying that this time you’ll be fast enough.

the light approaches faster and there are tears on your cheeks. letting out a cry, you see a figure running towards you, backlit from the sunlight that was always supposed to be there, and you know it signals safety before you can see his face.

yeosang gets closer and closer, and suddenly his hand is wrapped around your wrist and he’s tugging you along behind him, towards the light. you hear nothing behind you, but you know the shadowy figure is there, his dark smoke nipping at your feet, trying and succeeding in catching up.

but yeosang runs far faster than you thought he could and at any other time you’d question how you’re able to keep up at all. now you can see it. the blurry border where you can somehow see the light and dark balance perfectly. and you know you need to get past it where the light overpowers dark, where it is natural and shadows only exist because there is sun.

you let out a cry of surprise when you feel a sting at your lower calves and look down to see the smoky shadows climb higher, biting at the back of your legs and climbing up to your knees and lower thighs as your captor comes closer to keeping you in his cold grasp.

“keep going,” yeosang urges, and you resist the urge to let out a loud sob at the sound of his voice. you want to scream at him and ask what the hell is going on. instead, you follow his lead and push yourself even harder than you thought possible, and suddenly you’re sprawling forward, straight into the ground as your hand slips out of yeosang’s grip.

the fear clenching your heart squeezes hard, but nothing else snatches you up, no shadowy, steel-like hands, no cold voice in your ear. just him at your side in milliseconds, voice asking if you’re okay and hands pulling you up from the ground. you don’t say a word as he hoists you to your feet, telling you that you’re safe for now, but should get farther from the border as fast as possible. you just let him hold you close as he guides your tired and wobbly legs away until you’re under the leaves of the most familiar tree in the whole forest. only then do you let your knees buckle and a fresh wave of tears escape from your eyes. he keeps you steady so you don’t fall, gently lowering you to the ground and into his arms.

he holds you like that for god knows how long, rubbing your back in an attempt to sooth your shaking, and whispering a mix of broken apologies and comforting words to calm your crying.

“i’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. i’m sorry,” he calls you by a mix of sweet things and your name said like something holy. “i never meant for anything like this to happen, i’m sorry. please, please tell me you’re alright,” he begs. you hate how sad and guilty he sounds, but you can’t say a word, completely unable to process anything that’s happened. you just lay in his hold like it’ll keep any threat in the world away from you.

eventually you’re still and quiet in his arms save for your shaky breathing. his shirt is wet under your head. he’s mostly quiet now, still whispering out apologies here and there. it takes a moment for you to speak.

“is this a dream?” you whisper, tilting your head up to look at his very real, heartbroken face.

“i’m sorry,” he answers, voice guilt-ridden. that means no. your head drops back down to his shoulder and you sigh.

“i’m… i’m scared to ask, yeosang,” you begin, voice soft and still a little shaky, “i’m scared to ask what the hell that was and why the hell you seem to know exactly what’s going on.” your tone isn’t accusing, just tired and confused. once you start talking, it’s hard for you to stop, even when the words make little sense. “that– that can’t have been real, i swear. how the hell could that be real? he was– there’s no way that he was… human. he didn’t look, well, possible. and it was like i couldn’t move sometimes and god! i must have been hallucinating.” your voice drops off into silence with a thud. he doesn’t say a word. there’s a stretch of silence, and it feels like the only moving thing is his hand on your back, still rubbing back and forth in comfort. your voice is even smaller than before when you speak again. “and he… he said things and i think he was talking about you. why was he talking about you? why… why aren’t you telling me none of this is real?”

the pain in his voice is enough to tell you without looking that his lips are drawn tight in a frown and his eyebrows are furrowed with something almost as intense as sorrow.

“i’m sorry,” when he speaks his voice is small too. “i wish i could tell you it wasn’t real. and i’m sorry because i never meant for anything like this to happen, i never meant for you to find out like this, and i never should have let you walk out here alone. i wanted to tell you that the magic you let yourself hope for is real, it almost slipped out of my mouth a million times… but i didn’t know how. i didn’t know if there was a right time, or if i’d scare you away, and that’s the last thing i could ever want. i didn’t want anything to change. so i’m sorry i kept you in the dark like this and i’m sorry this happened. please, please, please tell me how i can fix it.” the words tumble out of his mouth like a waterfall, unfiltered and uncontrolled and so clearly true. it’s so different from the way he normally talks. he’s always truthful, but he picks and chooses his words both precisely and scarcely. here, it’s clear that he’s let it all come falling out, too guilty and upset for your sake to filter through the mess of his mind right now.

“and that’s why you asked me if i believed in magic a few days ago?” as you say this, you try to understand, finally pushing yourself up. you stay in his hold, still tucked into his wide frame, but now more level with him to better engage in a real conversation. it hurts a little to see the pain on his face, but it’s hard not to look at him either way.

he nods at your question, not even caring for now that you haven’t directly addressed his previous plea. “and so i decided to tell you. for a while i wondered if it would be better if you never knew at all. but i didn’t want to hide things from you and your answer was… it was… i was going to tell you today. i was going to surprise you with something small, right here.” his hand reluctantly leaves you to dig into his pocket. when he opens his fist to show you, it’s a tiny set of clothes, like the kind you’d find for small dolls. “these are my friend’s. he’s a pixie.” your silence makes him realize you must still be completely overwhelmed. quickly, he shoves the clothes back away and looks at you apologetically. “i’m sorry. this is too much, isn’t it?”

“i– so,” you struggle to find your words, “you’re telling me that magic is real? like the storybook kind? and you’re friends with pixies and there are horrifying shadow-men that try to capture you if you stray too far in the forest?” he cringes at that, and you want to apologize because you didn’t mean it like that. it’s just that you can’t seem to wrap your mind around this at all.

“well… yes.”

“oh.” you blink, once, twice, three times over. you try to let it sink in and he doesn’t say a word because he’s afraid of scaring you further. there’s silence for a long moment. “and… you. you’re magic too?”

he lets out a sharp exhale. “yes. i’m a dryad, a type of fae. a light fae. the shadowy man is a dark fae.”

you surprise yourself when you start to feel a hesitant smile try to find a way to your face. “and this is your tree?” you look up at the grand branches of the rustling willow.

he can’t hide the small smile of pride when he answers. “this is my tree.”

“it’s beautiful,” you marvel, as if you haven’t said so a million times before. but this time, the meaning is new, and once again, yeosang is dying to kiss you.

“thank you,” he breathes out, hopeful you’ll be alright, and hopeful that you won’t shut him out for hiding a whole entire world from you. there’s another pause for silence as you take in the tree with a new set of eyes, and he knows he’s in love with you when he sees the sparkle in your eyes. he feels like he’s ruined any chance with you after putting you in so much danger and throwing you into a world of the unknown and utter confusion. and here you are, staring at his tree with a wonder so pure in your eyes, as if he’s shown you the most beautiful thing in the world. 

to you, that’s what it feels like, though. your brain may be running a million miles an hour and your heart may still be beating in fear, but magic is real. for you magic is real in so many ways, because to you, his dreamlike smile is a magic of it’s own, and now he’s really, actually magic. he is one with nature, in a way you can only begin to understand now, and even more deeply, he is one with the most majestic tree you have ever laid your eyes upon. everything about him is beautiful in ways you didn’t even know, but that you feel blessed to have been shown now. 

and you struggle to even think that he’s to blame for not telling you yet. it’s true, you’d much rather not have found out the way you did, but how could anyone dismiss his hesitance? no one, when you belong to a species so destructive, especially to mother nature. not when it was because he was afraid of scaring you away. not when he didn’t know until just days ago if you would even be willing to believe in anything near fantastical. you’re honored to know he did intend on telling you, because you believe him wholeheartedly in everything he’s told you. 

but a sudden series of doubts cross your mind. what if he’s been playing me this entire time? what if he’s not who he claims to be? what if he’s using magic to make me trust him… to love him, even?

but he interrupts those thoughts with his soft, careful voice. “you broke his spells, you know? those moments when you couldn’t move, you were under the influence of his magic. his kind is far stronger than mine. my magic is connected only to nature. i’d have a completely hellish time trying to break that kind of spell with my magic,” he admits before continuing, “and without any magic? well, it’s nearly impossible. but you did it. your mind is incredibly strong and full of light. of course, i’ve known that for a long time now, but you’ve just proven it to one of the strongest faeries in this forest. you’re practically magical too,” he muses, and every doubt is wiped from your mind.

“i thought of you,” you admit quietly, “and other things that i love.” the confession is subtle, but yeosang doesn’t miss it.

his voice is begging and oh so gentle when he asks. “can i kiss you?” 

“please,” you breathe out. then he’s tilting his head closer and closer to yours, just like before, but this time he doesn’t get the faraway look, and this time his lips finally meet yours.

—

you thought that the faraway look would be gone forever once you found out about the world of magic. but it’s come back now that your days with him dwindle. it’s not that you’ve even addressed the end of the summer approaching, and therefore, your time with him too. but it isn’t hard to guess that he’s thinking about the fact that you’re leaving, and he’s not. what you can’t understand is the extra layer of sadness and regret. you can’t figure out what it means because somehow you know it’s not just the fact that you’ll be apart—though that part is plenty distressing to you.

you already knew that the end of the summer would bring a difficult goodbye, but now that he tucks his head into your neck when he’s shy and makes white dahlias bloom for you in seconds, you’re not sure how the hell you’ll be able to part with him. now that you see the way he glows when he channels magic from his tree and shows you fairy houses built into toadstools that are no longer lived in, you can’t fathom that you’ll have to go back to a life where he and his magic are practically a entire world away. now that he kisses your knuckles when he thinks you’ve fallen asleep under the willow with your head on his shoulder, you know that you’ll miss him in a way you’ve never missed anyone before. and now that there’s no doubt in your mind that you love him, you wish he’d tell you the things he keeps hidden behind that unreadable look on his face.

you interrupt the sound of the breeze dancing through the leaves. “it’ll be alright,” you say, voice almost hushed since you’re still a bit afraid to talk about it. but the way you catch him looking at you sometimes has you desperate to comfort him.

“i know.” but his smile is anything but convincing.

“i mean it,” your voice comes out strong this time. “i’ll come back during all my school breaks and i’ll get you a phone so that we can talk while we’re apart. we’ll be alright, we’ll make it work.” you believe in your own words wholeheartedly, but you’re begging for him to do the same.

your voice comes out of his mouth almost at a whisper. “i– that’s what i want. i wish you’d never have go at all, but–”

“but what? there doesn’t have to be a ‘but,’ yeosang,” you argue without even hearing what he has to say. he sighs in defeat.

“you shouldn’t limit yourself.”

“sangie,” you plead, “don’t say that. i’d be limiting myself if i didn’t let myself have you. i’m coming back to you. just because i’m going to meet new people and have new experiences doesn’t mean i’m going to forget about you. yeosang, you’re unforgettable.”

“i–,” suddenly he looks away, avoiding your earnest gaze. the moment of silence that follows stretches out like an eternity, and you begin to fear if he really means it when he wishes you’d never go. “i’ll be waiting for you.” he says it like it’s a wish placed on a shooting star that you can’t see, like there’s still something being left unsaid. but the look in his eyes tells you that he means it, so you lace your fingers through his and bring his hand up to press a kiss to it like a promise.

you curse the early setting sun of the winter. by the time your parent’s car pulls into your grandmother’s driveway, the sky is as dark as it’ll get. you know that, realistically, you wouldn’t have been able to see him today, regardless of the color of the sky. but you can’t hold back just a bit of disappointment.

you let the feeling fall away, though, when your grandma welcomes you back to her home for winter break with open arms and a hug that’s probably warmer than the fire raging in her hearth. even now, you’re still struggling to understand why your parents never let the two of you get close until this past summer.

settling back into your summer room is easy and satisfying, pine cones and fairy clothes you couldn’t take back, gifted by him, still decorating the dresser. of course, this time it’s colder than you’re used to, but the extra blankets and knowledge that yeosang and his willow are right there lull you to sleep quickly.

when the morning sun chases you awake, you’re up with a grin, more glad than ever to get ready for the day and disappear into the forest. you can’t escape breakfast, but you can’t complain about it either, more than happy to taste your grandmother’s food and speak with her more again. and of course, your parents implore you to stick around to spend some time with family. you slip out the back door within minutes of that suggestion.

the snow coated trees are like a foreign home, undeniably familiar, yet different in a way you’ve never seen before. it excites you to realize that you’ll be able to learn about this version of the forest. the branches hang heavier, adorned with the snow that glitters in the cold winter sun. it seems that no matter what season, the forest sparkles in the light of the sun—and magic—to make it feel more like a dream than anything else.

you’re impressed by yourself when you’re able to still find the way to your summer meeting place, the boulder newly majestic with it’s blanket of whiteness. the whole journey is almost as wondrous as discovering magic; experiencing the forest in its snowy glory distracts you for a moment from the fact that the boulder stands tall … and alone. you’ve never seen the boulder this way. empty. there’s not a single time where he wasn’t there, waiting for you.

you try not to let your heart sink heavily into the pit in your stomach, but you can’t shake the way that it feels all wrong. it’s easy to tell yourself that there’s no way he would know you were here to look for. but you then remember what he told you, sitting up on that rock together, soaking up what sun you could. that he’s always there, waiting for you because he can feel it. he can feel you when you enter the forest. so why isn’t he here now? he promised he’d be waiting for you.

maybe it’s the snow, you consider. somehow even that feels like a silly excuse. but you don’t turn around, back in the direction of home. you search the paths that you can see in the midst of the snow, softly calling his name in hopes that it will be carried to him somehow. through the wind, the leaves, or the word of a fairy that you can’t see. you trudge along until you grow too cold and the hot chocolate in your thermos runs out.

—

two more days of searching through the snow, and your parents are beginning to question your daily outings into the forest that only result in a few pictures on your digital camera and a moody quiet from you.

your grandmother comes to your aid, serving you more soup for dinner and telling your parents about how much you adored the forest all summer long. this is the part where you think she’ll out you, tell them that you fell in love with a boy in the forest even when you made her promise not to say a word about it.

but she says nothing. even worse, does nothing. there’s no teasing smile or subtle wink from your end like you would have expected from her, the kind of reaction she always gave you when you talked to her about him. you tread forward with caution, as if testing new waters.

“so grandma, have you seen yeosang lately at all? how’s he doing?”

her response is strange enough to scare you.

“yeosang? you mean the young man who lives in the forest?” she relays this information back at you as if he’s some distant figure, someone you’ve rarely talked about at all.

“yeah,” you confirm, trying to hide any bewildered questions from rising hot into your throat and out of your mouth.

“why, i haven’t heard about him in a long while. i’d forgotten you met him over the summer. it seems i’m really getting old, aren’t i?” she chuckles, as if this is the most normal thing to say regarding the boy her grandchild gushed to her about for months. “but i do hope he’s holding up alright in this cold. we’ve gotten quite a bit of snow this year!” and with that, she starts going on to tell your parents about the snow from this year and last, and probably the year before that too.

you spend the rest of the meal in silence, quick to disappear to your room once your dishes are cleared from the table and washed. you find it difficult to wrap your mind around what happened at dinner tonight, wondering and wondering why the hell your grandma could seem to remember close to nothing about the boy you told her you love. for a minute you’re afraid that she’s getting sick, and that her age truly is what’s affecting her memory. but you think back to the first time you mentioned him to her and can’t help but feel an unsettling sense of deja vu.

missing him worse by the minute and growing increasingly worried for him and maybe even yourself—because what if you’ve made everything up in your head, what if it really was all the dream that it felt like it was—you resolve to finally attempt to make your way to his willow. the past three days, you’ve avoided the journey, afraid of traveling in that direction alone once again after what happened last time. but you know that if you’re to find him anywhere, it’ll be his home.

—

“sweetheart, you probably should stay inside today,” your grandmother advises over a hot breakfast. “there’s supposed to be a snow storm today, i’d hate for you to get caught up in it!”

“thanks, grandma.” you smile softly, trying to make her feel like you’ll heed her directions to lessen the worried crease of her brow. it makes you feel a little bit guilty when you know that you have no intent whatsoever to skip your outing in the forest today. 

the moment you’re given the chance, you slip out the back door like you’ve done every other day, this time leaving a note in the living room for your grandma not to worry too much.

the forest is less glittery today, with the grey clouds stretching out to cover the vastness of the unseen blue sky. you set out in the direction that your heart knows better than your mind, trying to drown out the fear hanging in the back of your mind and the ache in your joints that comes from the hard work of trudging through thick snow.

when the snow begins to fall, you pay it no mind, solely intent on finding yeosang and unworried by the slow drifting down of the tiny flakes. but with each passing minute, the snow in the sky grows thicker and falls with determination rather than passivity. then, when you can barely see a few feet in front of you and it feels like your toes, fingers, and nose will fall off from the cold, you finally begin to wish that you had listened to your grandma.

what scares you even more is that, with the landscape so obscured, you’re not quite sure where you are anymore. a moment of panic overtakes you, and without thinking, you cry out his name into the silent air. it feels almost like that’s the only thing that could save you from the storm; if he finds you.

but that panic subsides into a more manageable pit of anxiety in your stomach when you try to push yourself back to rationality. you seek out your own footprints before they’re completely covered by the new snow and follow their faint outlines until they fade away. you don’t get too far, but you pray it’s enough to point you in the right direction. yet, your hope wanes as your exhaustion grows along with the hot pit in your stomach that you wish could warm your shaking limbs.

“yeosang?” you call out, quieter this time. “why can’t i find you?” you choke out, and suddenly you feel a lump in your throat and a burn in your eyes. but the last thing you want to do out here is cry and have your own tears freeze to your lashes and cheeks. “you said you’d wait for me…”

you hang your head as a feeling of defeat washes over you. you curse under your breath and force yourself to lift your head and keep going, intent on saving yourself. but as your gaze goes back to the white streaked landscape, the image of the dark trees and bright snow is interrupted with something moving towards you, quickly and silently. for a moment, you’re scared, but in the next you’re heaving a sigh of relief that comes out sounding much more like a sob.

you’ve barely taken a step forward before his arms are wrapped around you. his heavy breathing is loud in your ear and the brush of his cheek against yours as he pulls you into him is like a piece of heaven.

“yeosang,” you gasp out as your gloved hands clench the plush of his thick coat. he doesn’t speak for a long moment, just holds you as if he thought he’d never see you again.

“you’re shaking,” he whispers, pulling away from you to properly look at you.

you nod. “it’s cold,” you offer as a lame explanation while taking in the image that you’ve missed so much. “you’re so beautiful.” whether the flush in his cheeks is from the cold or your words, you’re not sure, but god are you happy to see it again.

his face becomes serious in a split second when he remembers that you’re shivering. your face had him distracted for a moment. “it’s far too cold for you to be out here right now, lovely.”

“i just wanted to find you,” you let your reason slip. now he’ll feel sorry about it.

and as you knew it would, his face falls even further, but the love in his eyes still grows. but he doesn’t scold you softly in the way you thought he would. he doesn’t tell you that you shouldn’t have been that reckless for him. not because he doesn’t care, just because he’s so relieved to see you. at least you’re safe now.

“let’s get you warm,” is all he says, pulling you into his side and guiding you to the closest shelter he knows of. he’s glad you wandered in this direction, easily taking you to the cabin he told you he lived in before telling you the truth about his magic. you lean into him heavily, letting him do most of the work in getting you there.

“thank god,” he mumbles to himself when he finds the cabin stocked with wood and matches. he sits you down in a chair by the fireplace and wraps you in the few blankets he can find before starting a fire. he tries to keep you talking as he removes your boots and damp socks, redressing your feet with his own pair. then there’s a pot full of water hanging above the fire that’s already starting to bubble with heat. he’s sitting at your feet on the rug, hands holding yours through a blanket to try and transfer some of his body heat to you.

“i missed you,” you mumble as you finally settle down, comforted by the heat of the fire that burns so bright in the hearth that it’s almost raging.

“i missed you, too.” his voice is hushed. it’s earnest, but he says it like it’s something he’s never supposed to be able to tell you. like he can’t believe he’s got you again.

“i meant it when i promised i’d come back for you,” you whisper, fighting the urge to fall asleep. 

“i know,” he assures, “and i meant it when i promised i’d wait. i have waited and there’s not a day that went by where i wasn’t thinking of you.”

“so why didn’t you come to me when i first started looking for you?” you beg for him to answer in truth.

“my love,” he starts, cautious and afraid to say it out loud, as if he’ll jinx himself and unravel it all by admitting it, “you weren’t supposed to be looking for me. you weren’t supposed to remember me, at least not the way that we were. you weren’t supposed to remember loving me.”

you squeeze his hand and furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “what do you mean? how could i ever forget loving you?”

“magic,” he says simply, dropping the word heavily. “it makes humans forget, at least for the most part, about meeting creatures from our world to protect us. sometimes they’ll remember those of us like me, the ones that look like humans, but never more than a vague idea. it’s like a dream. so vivid when it happens, but quick to disappear from your mind once you’re awake and out of that world. so…you’re not supposed to remember anything much about…us.”

it all feels like a tall wave of stinging water, salty like the tears threatening to spill, surging over you and knocking you right off of your feet.

“why–,” your voice cracks, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he says, voice pleading. “if you knew, it would have been looming over your head like a ticking clock. i wanted you to be able to just be happy while we were together, i didn’t want you to worry about it. about me.”

“but it was looming over your head,” you cry, “you were hurting all alone, convinced i’d forget that i love you, and what? you’d have to love without me to love you back?”

he nods, and a tear slips down his cheek. “i loved you– still love you so much that i couldn’t push you away. as long as i could love you while you remembered me, i was alright with loving you when you forgot. i’m sorry for hiding more from you, i swear i am, but it was worth it to me. to let you leave me with hope rather than a final goodbye… i wasn’t ready to say goodbye.” the last sentence is whispered, as if it’s something he’s realized just now, that he didn’t say a word just as much for you as for himself. it breaks your heart to see tears flow from his apologetic eyes so freely.

“but i do remember you. and god, do i remember loving you. i’ve remembered you and the way you make me feel every day since i told you that you were unforgettable.” he looks up at you like you’re the most heavenly thing he’s ever set his eyes upon.

“thank you,” yeosang whispers through his tears, voice thick with emotion, “thank you for remembering. i don’t even know how it’s possible, but i thought i’d go crazy without you. i thought it would be fine, but it took everything in me not to go right to you when you got here. i knew i wouldn’t be able to act as if i didn’t love you more than anything else. i’m sorry i’m late.”

“quit apologizing and just kiss me, will you?”

his expression is relieved as he scrambles to his knees and leans in close to you. you lean forward, letting the blankets fall from your hands in favor of placing them on his cheeks and pressing your lips to his. you almost break the kiss when you feel a fresh wave of tears fall from his eyes, but you wipe them away gently with your thumbs, kissing him harder to prove to him that you’re really there. then his hands are on your waist, holding you tight and pulling you closer. the movement of his lips is practically desperate, and he wants to kiss you with all the gentleness that he can muster, but he just can’t help it when you’re right here in front of him.

“i love you,” he mumbles against your lips and cuts off your reply as he goes back to kissing you hard. he’s trying to get so close that he pulls you right off the chair and onto the floor, into his lap. “i need you,” he whispers with the softness he wants you to feel from him. your arms wrap around his neck and you think his kisses must have magic in them too when his lips are on yours again. it’s safe to say that you’ve warmed up by now. to catch your breath, you pull back and brush your nose against his with all the affection in the world. “yeosang, you are like a dream. just the kind that’s so beautiful and loved that i could never, never forget you.”

[1dmonthlyficroundup]

— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —

Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for May 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup​. You can find all our other posts here.

Happy reading!

＊ Ocean Wave Blues by babyhoneyhslt / @babyhoneyheslt [M, 49k, Louis/Harry]

After the gruesome death of his Alpha, Harry takes over as the Captain of the Rose Arrow. Trying his best to uphold her reputation as being the most dreadful pirate ship to sail the Seven Seas.

With the help of his alpha-quartermaster Niall, he manages to keep his secondary gender hidden from everyone except his most trusted crew, as he operates under his late Alpha’s name. Captain Payne.

Everything changes when his ship is taken hostage by Pirate Captain Louis.

To keep his crew, and himself, alive, Harry must play the part of dutiful Omega who’s waiting for his Alpha’s return.

＊ You Put the Boom Boom Into My Heart by @kingsofeverything [T, 5k, Harry/Louis]

Harry's been trying all summer to come up with a way to show Louis how much he means to him before he leaves for college.

Or five times Harry fails to win Wham! tickets and one time he succeeds.

＊ Into the Woods by @kingsofeverything [E, 2k, Louis/Harry]

Whenever he hikes, Harry keeps an eye out for trees with knots and scars that resemble buttholes. What started as fodder for his silly little Instagram account has become his favorite way to masturbate.

＊ A Book in the Ruins by magpielivingforglitter / @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome [M, 10k, Harry/Louis]

Harry randomly meets Louis, they eat food and read poetry, and it’s the zombie apocalypse.

＊ now i'm tracin' all my steps to you by @alwaysxlarrie [T, 5k, Louis/Harry]

Of all the things Harry was prepared for this summer, Louis Tomlinson and his wonderful, wonderful scent isn't one of them. It probably shouldn't be as shocking as it is that it makes Harry want to nest. There's only one slight problem -- Harry and nesting aren't exactly on familiar terms. At all.

This does not stop Harry from borrowing ("borrowing") Louis' things all throughout summer, though. Oops?

＊ just a couple of my cravings by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf [G, 3k, Harry/Louis]

Summer's just around the corner and Louis' battling his addictions... Cigarettes and Harry Styles.

＊ better latte than never by @disgruntledkittenface [M, 1k, Zayn/Harry]

Harry was looking forward to the coffee cart at work. Until the subject of the previous night's fantasies lined up next to him.

＊ I Like to Watch by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 9k, Louis/Harry, Louis/Zayn]

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

＊ Hope by @hellolovers13 [T, 2k, no pairing, Louis, Harry]

A father's desperate journey against time.

＊ On Love's Doorstep by @hellolovers13 [T, 1k, Harry/Louis]

Harry Styles: a day in the life

☑ Stuck in a dress ☑ Abandoned by his best friend ☑ Date with hot neighbour

All in all, not the worst day ever

＊ the very last drops of an ink pen by staybeautiful / @harruandlou [E, 47k, Louis/Harry]

The spoon made a hissing sound on the rim of his cup before he put it on his napkin. Sharp eyes met Harry’s over the table and Louis said, “So, we have a lot to talk about then.”

“How do you mean?” Harry blew on the foam at the top of his latte and let the heat of it warm his hands. Anxious energy curled down his arms as he waited for Louis to speak.

“Well, what are we doing about the business?” Louis picked up his mug and with his mouth against the lip of it, added, “Or are you going to leave that too?”

Against his will, his cheeks flushed in annoyance and Harry snapped, “Of course I fucking won’t.”

Or just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

＊ don't be afraid to love (and love again) by localopa / @voulezloux [E, 83k, Louis/Harry]

All Louis’ life, he’s known he’s been different. There’s always been something at odds about how he felt.

As the eldest daughter of seven kids, he knew something was wrong with his body. Something was off, he just couldn’t quite put his finger on it. His mum dressed him in dresses and tights, plaits in his hair as he wandered around with the local neighborhood boys. They called him a girl, called him she and Rosemary when his name is Louis. He had told the boys as such, but they would tell him Louis is a boy’s name, not a girl’s.

Louis is a boy. He knows he is.

or the one where louis is trans and afraid, harry is cis and brave, and being 100% yourself is easier said than done.

＊ Pacify Her by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright [E, 2k, Harry/Louis]

Harry's anxiety is acting up. Louis has the only thing that will soothe her.

OR Louis' pussy is the ultimate pacifier.

＊ this brokenness inside me might start healing by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [T, 29k, Louis/Harry]

Louis grew up in a tiny town, where everyone knew everyone -- or at least, they think they do. Then he left, and became a successful singer-songwriter, a star that everyone in the country knows -- or at least, they think they do.

But when Louis returns home for the birth of his first nibling, he meets a librarian who doesn't know him at all. And that's all Louis could ask for.

“I remember when you were a teenager," Miss Susan says, "telling me all the things you wanted to accomplish, the places you wanted to go. And I’ve seen a lot of kids, with a lot of big dreams – but you were different. You had this… quiet energy, this determined certainty. When you told me all you were going to do, I believed you.” She smiles, spreading her arms. “And now here you are.”

Here he is indeed, Louis thinks bitterly. Back where he started. His dreams on pause, his future uncertain. His whole identity built out of secrets and half-truths, while everyone thinks they know exactly who he is.

He left to find himself, he came home to find himself, and yet – here he is, feeling more lost than ever before.

＊ Rewriting the Melody by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13 [T, 26k, Harry/Louis]

Louis doesn’t get put in One Direction. This time, the path to true love takes the long way round, including singing in toilet cubicles, fruit baskets, and long distance band counselling from someone who really doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just wants to keep talking to Harry.

＊ warmth within your arms by @hsburnr [M, 1k, Louis/Harry]

when it's get too much to bear and nothing makes sense, harry seeks comfort from louis.

one shot, hurt/comfort au.

- Fic Fests -

＊ 1D Dystopian Fic Fest / @1ddystopianfest / masterpost

“Telling a story in a futuristic world gives you this freedom to explore things that bother you in contemporary times.” ~ Suzanne Collins

- Podfics -

＊ [podfic] Season 3, Episode 4: Timeless [a fic by babyhoneyhslt] by podfic_pals / @podfic-pals [G, Louis/Harry]

After visiting an antiques shop, Harry gets transported through time, and discovers that he and Louis are Timeless.

Based on Taylor Swift's Timeless.

[the-monkey-ruler]

Alakazam the Great (1960) 西遊記

Director: Yasushita Taiji / Tezuka Osamu / Shirakawa Daisaku Screenwriter: Keinosuke Uekusa Starring: Kiyoshi Kozuyama / Noriko Shindo / Noriko Shindo / Tamachi Kato / Kawakubo House / Wind Festival Ryoichi / Hideo Kinoshita / Setsuo Shinoda / Nobuaki Sekine / Kuniku Takeda / Katsuko Ozaki / Michiko Shirasaka Genre: Animation / Fantasy / Adventure Country/Region of Production: Japan Language: Japanese Date: 1960-08-14 (Japan) Duration: 88 minutes / USA: 84 minutes Also known as: Saiyu-ki / The Enchanted Monkey / The Magic Land of Alakazam / 西游记 IMDb: tt0054265 Type: Retelling

Summary:

One day, an unusual monkey is born from a stone. The stone monkey befriends a fellow monkey named Rin-Rin and is later crowned king of a tribe of monkeys after he proves his courage by diving into a dangerous waterfall. He becomes arrogant as king, much to his subjects' dismay and he grows insecure when he learns about the existence of humans from Rin-Rin, who claims they are the smartest beings around. The stone monkey seeks out a wise hermit and forces him to make him his pupil. The hermit teaches the stone monkey considerable magic abilities and rechristens him Son Goku. Goku shows off his new abilities to Rin-Rin, and to further impress her, goes to heaven to retrieve the sacred fruit the hermit fed him.

In heaven, Goku causes mischief, and overpowers the celestial forces sent after him. He defeats General Kinsei and takes his staff but loses a shape-shifting duel with Jiroshinkun. Goku meets Buddha, who challenges him to fly off his hand, a challenge Goku arrogantly accepts. Goku fails and is imprisoned by Buddha beneath the Five Elements Mountain. Rin-Rin takes care of Goku during his imprisonment as his arrogance gradually fades. When Rin-Rin nearly succumbs to a blizzard, she is saved by Kanon, who heralds the arrival of the monk, Genjo Sanzo, who frees Goku and asks him to accompany him to a pilgrimage to Tianzhu to retrieve a sacred sutra. Goku accepts the mission after Sanzo places an unmovable headband around him that Sanzo can tighten at will.

During their journey, Goku and Sanzo meet a father and daughter. The daughter is pursued by a monster who wants to marry her. Goku disguises himself as the girl and takes her place when the monster, the pig-man Cho Hakkai, arrives that night. Goku reveals the deception, forcing Hakkai to flee for his home, with Goku giving chase. Goku is confronted by Hakkai's half-brothers, Ginkaku and Kinkaku, who trap him in a gourd which melts anyone inside it. Goku escapes, and tries to trap the brothers in their gourd, but he is thrown into a pit with a giant scorpion. Goku narrowly defeats the scorpion and traps the two in their gourd. Goku spares Hakkai when he hears Rin-Rin's voice and allows him to accompany him and Sanzo.

Meanwhile, the imp Shoryu informs his master, Gyū-Maō, about Sanzo’s pilgrimage. Gyū-Maō tasks Shoryu to lure Sanzo and company to his dominion of the Flaming Mountains so he can eat the monk and extend his lifespan. Shoryu attacks the group in the desert, scaring away Sanzo's horse and capturing him. Goku saves Sanzo, though Hakkai accidentally loses their food during the chaos. Later, the group comes across the castle of the man-eating ogre Sa Gojō. Gojō tries to eat Hakkai and Sanzo, but Goku defeats him and convinces him to join their pilgrimage.

When the group reaches the Flaming Mountains, Shoryu turns Sanzo's companions against each other, but Sanzo manages to calm them down. Gyū-Maō causes a volcanic eruption which blocks the group's path. Goku learns about the Basho-Sen, a magical fan owned by Gyū-Maō’s wife, Ratsunyō, which can freeze the lava flow. He and Hakkai disguise themselves as Gyū-Maō to retrieve the fan, but are caught by Ratsunyō, who captures Hakkai while Goku escapes with the fan. Shoryu tricks Goku into giving him the fan by disguising himself as Sanzo, whom Gyū-Maō had earlier captured. Shoryu freezes Goku and pushes him into the lava. Although Goku survives, he is left paralyzed and unable to use his powers.

Gyū-Maō prepares to cook Hakkai and Sanzo for a large feast with his fellow demons. Gyū-Maō betrays Shoryu and traps him in a jar. Goku and Gojō rescue a repentant Shoryu, who gives Goku a healing potion. They rescue the others in time and fight Gyū-Maō and his group. Hakkai freezes Ratsunyō and Goku defeats Gyū-Maō, causing him to fall into lava, which Hakkai freezes with the fan. The group makes peace with Shoryu and travels to Tianzhu, where they meet with Buddha and Kanon. Buddha removes Goku's headband and gives the pilgrims the sutra. They return to China, where Goku reunites with Rin-Rin and his subjects.

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alakazam_the_Great

Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ydgTTsBixh4 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4ytPE0o28Q

[moonshine-nightlight]

Nothing's Wrong with Dale - Part Twenty-Seven

It’s been a week, but you’re fairly certain your fiancé accidentally got himself replaced by an eldritch being from the Depths. Deciding  that he’s certainly not worse than your original fiancé, you endeavor to keep the engagement and his new non-human state to yourself.

However, this might prove harder than you originally thought.

Fantasy, arranged marriage, malemonsterxfemalereader, M/F

AO3: Nothing's Wrong with Dale Chapter 27

[Part One][Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven] [Part Seven.5][Part Eight] [Part Nine] [Part Ten]  [Part Eleven] [Part Twelve]  [Part Thirteen] [Part Fourteen] [Part Fifteen] [Part Sixteen] [Part Seventeen] [Part Eighteen] [Part Nineteen] [Part Twenty] [Part Twenty-One] [Part Twenty-Two][Part Twenty-Three] [Part Twenty-Four][Part Twenty-Five] [Part Twenty-Six] Part Twenty-Seven [Part Twenty-Eight] [Part Twenty-Nine] [Part Thirty] [Part Thirty-One] [Part Thirty-Two] [Part Thirty-Three] [Part Thirty-Four]

You received some respite from the seemingly endless talking this particular gala is focused on with the first round of dancing, but it didn't last long.

You hope no one noticed that you weren’t actually eating much during the main dinner course, especially your parents. You’ve since managed to edge away from them with this return to finger foods by staying with your siblings instead, the eldest of which were more available now that all children were sent up to bed, no matter how they pleaded. Asher in particular is looking relieved since he’s here without his wife, who is at home managing Portsmith, but even Callalily and her husband seemed less tired at the prospect of a party without children to mind. You are grateful you were not part of the river journey to Connton when they had all been packed together, even though you’re sure your family’s boat had been as spacious as any could be.

Still, even they are beginning to wear on your nerves, as is the volume of the gathering, which seems to only have increased exponentially as the night has worn on. A contradiction since you know multiple groups have gone home—you’ve said goodbye to nearly all of them personally. Shouldn’t it be quieter? Shouldn’t you be used to this by now? 

An increase in chatter in your immediate vicinity causes you to notice a group of artists, including Breighton, have joined your smaller group. They’ve clearly been enjoying the wine and their enthusiasm is grating. The desire for air and space is suddenly overwhelming. Unfortunately, Marigold and Callalily have you boxed in on either side and Asher’ll be no help–he’s looking for his own exit. You watch as he spots a knight his own age he must know and quickly walks off with him. He’ll likely be able to bid good night to him soon enough and without the notice of  your family. He doesn’t even have the courtesy to send an apologetic look your way. 

Where had Dale gotten to? Maybe he’ll be your way out. If you recall, he’d been pulled away by his grandparents to speak with some local nobles. You scan the room, trying to ignore the way Marigold’s emphatic gestures are in danger of spilling wine onto your arm, if not your dress. You know that usually, you’d be pleased she’s enjoying herself as much as she obviously is. Even a few hours ago, you’d be happy with how well this ball is reflecting on you and the Northridges as hosts. A betrothal feast for your wedding, with nearly all of your family present and reveling in a good time. But your tolerance for socializing is used up. You desperately need a breath of fresh air and a moment to yourself. Please.

You finally spot Dale talking with a small group, the rich blue ribbon in his dark hair catching your eye. Abruptly you’re reminded of when you met him for the first time, how intimidating and handsome that stranger had seemed to you. Speaking with that stranger then had not helped matters. Even these days, you still find him intimidating at times, but in the way the future is, not the way an obstacle is. So much possibility. You’re not sure if it is helpful or not, that you only find him more attractive these days. The way he can hold your attention is unlike anyone else you’ve come across.    His bright eyes, the way he styled his hair, the mischievous look he could get when the mood suited him are all so compelling. Is that something demonic? Or merely a reflection of getting to know the new person in his place, even if they by definition looked the same?

Regardless of how struck you are by your soon-to-be husband’s attractiveness, you want to seize the opportunity to utilize him to flee far more than you want to admire him. At least, in this moment. You’re note sure what you say to your siblings, you think you claims he motioned you over to him, but it’s a bit of blur. They easily et you go to your betrothed, already half-swept up in some debate about the large painting they’ve been contemplating. You don’t even spare it glance as you seize this opportunity. 

You head in his direction, hoping it doesn’t look like the escape it is and hoping Dale will go along with the actual plan to take the time away from everyone. You don’t want to be trapped in another, different conversation either, but you know you cannot wander the garden unescorted at such an event.

Luckily, you don’t have to find a way to get Dale’s attention in order to break into the small circle of people he’s speaking with. He seems to sense your approach, turning once you’re within a few feet with a smile, his eyes crinkling at the edges when they land on you. At least this circle is only three other people and farther from the musicians so no one’s shouting can be heard over more than the general sound of the crowd.

“My lady,” he greets, holding out his left arm. You gratefully loop yours through his, always appreciative how supported it makes you feel. “While I believe you’ve met Lord Nicolo and Lady Elain, I do believe you’ve not met my other companion,” Dale says, naming one of the neighboring fiefs to Northridge. You do recognize the other lord and lady, both a decade older than yourselves, who’s lands border Northridge and Connton respectively. You’ve met them at previous gala’s and find them pleasant enough company under usual circumstances. Tonight, you can’t help but wish they’d suddenly take their leave.

Dale turns to the striking blonde woman in purple to his immediate right that you correctly do not think you’ve ever seen before. “Allow me to introduce Lady Lorraine of Hillibrght.” The first thing that strikes you about her is that she’s beautiful. Her long hair is woven with ribbon in a style you recognize from some of the newest fashion plates from the capital you’d been presented with for your wedding. Her eyes are bright and her figure is shapely in her light blue dress. She holds herself with the sort of effortless confidence that you’d have remembered being envious of. That feeling is a noticeable ache right now, when you already feel so harried and out of place. She looks the exact opposite of how you feel and you can’t help but resent her for it. “Please meet my betrothed.” She murmurs a polite greeting with a curtsy you mirror while Dale explains, “Lady Lorraine has only just returned from abroad.”

“Yes, we were comparing in what manner our journey’s diverged after the Lurean,” she elaborates, her voice low and melodic. The Lurean is an institute in the west, famous for its music. You believe Dale visited there early in his years abroad, but can’t recall anything more than that. “That is when we decided to split. My group went south, while the ones Dale was with went North. A pity, Dale was always the most interesting to debate, though of course we still managed to amuse ourselves without him or the others who went North.”

Lorraine is acting perfectly polite: you appreciate her catching you up to what they were discussing. And yet, you don’t like the way she looks at Dale, nor how she says his name without his title. If she is a neighbor, they must have known each other since childhood, you know many of your peers and siblings who do the same. You still don’t like it. 

“I see,” you say politely because of course she had also been traveling as Dale had. She had even been part of that lucky and worldly group. While you were sat at home, trying to convince your mother that you should be allowed to come with her to the seamstress’ shop in the city. You resist the urge to frown at yourself for such a thought. You truly are not fit for company at the moment. “And you have not seen each other since?”

“No, not since we parted ways nearly two years ago,” Lorraine confirms and you don’t like how she says that either. As if it were more than two acquaintances with differing travel plans. You’re embarrassed when you realize how irrational you’re being, that your first instinct is to try to find a reason to justify the dislike rather than ignore it as the nonsense it is. “We had thought to meet up again, all of us, however the timing nor the location was ever quite right.”

“Terrible luck,” Dale replies with a smirk that makes you think luck had nothing to do with it. There’s an answering shrewd look in her eyes that implies she knows that too. That she knew Dale well enough to be able to read even this Dale. 

“Which reminds me, since we had expected to see each other again, you had loaned Hilary a particular book.” You don’t understand the weight of her gaze on Dale nor the implication in her words. Your eyes dart to Dale and given his frown, you’re not sure he does either. This Dale occasionally needs more time to catch up to certain nuances and you’re petty in your pleasure at that. Lorraine continues, “She bade me to return it to you, since she knew I’d see you again. It's in my carriage.”

“Oh yes.” Some recognition blooms in Dale’s eyes. “I had thought to ask you if she’d returned home so I might send her a missive regarding it, but this is far easier.”

“Would it be an imposition to do so now?” Lorraine asks and you blink at her in surprise. “I would have it sent to you, only I’m afraid it shall get lost in the confusion or that I shall forget. I believe I left if secure in my carriage”

You do not like how Lorraine appears to be trying to get Dale on his own. In an impulsive fit, you tighten your hand on his arm. “I’m afraid Dale promised me one last walk in the garden tonight. We have to leave so early in the morning, we won’t get the chance then. Would it be possible to bring this book to the Northridge estate instead?”

“Of course,” Dale agrees, smiling down at you and not noticing the surprise that flashes across Lorraine’s face. “I was beginning to wonder if we would be able to do so after all.” He looks back at Lorraine with politeness, not noticing or not wanting to acknowledge the confusion on her face at his refusal. “Another time, Lorraine. You shall be attending the festivities in Northridge, yes?”

“Yes, my family is delighted to celebrate with you,” Lorraine replies with a smile, no surprise or annoyance in her expression any longer. If this change of plans disrupts her own, she’s not showing it now. Except her eyes. Her eyes are intense as they study Dale’s face, as they drift over to your own, before back to Dale’s. “Thinking back on matters, I’m not sure if it is in my carriage after all. Perhaps it was packed and brought into my townhouse after all. I can locate it shortly regardless. We can speak further at a later time.”

“Wonderful, until then.” Dale gives her a short bow before leading you out one of the archways which lead towards the garden.

Your focus on putting one foot in front of the other, on keeping your gaze up, but unfocused so as not to catch anyone’s eye and risk being drawn into conversation. You hope Dale is doing the same, but you’ve no energy to check on him. A breeze hits your face as soon as Dale opens the garden doors and you heave a sigh of relief at the sensation. You’re not even particularly hot, but it had begun to feel so stifling in that ballroom, for reasons you still cannot discern when compared to all the other galas. 

“Are you alright, sana?” Dale asks. You look up to see him frowning down at you, worry in his eyes. “Do you need to sit down? Or one of your medicines?”

“I’m fine,” you reply, shaking your head in the face of such undue concern. Heat rises in your cheeks at the thought of how dramatic you’re acting or whatever expression must be on your face to worry Dale so. “I only needed some fresh air. My apologies for pulling you away from your conversation, but I…”

Now Dale mostly looks confused. “I am happy to assist you in gaining the space to breathe,” he replies, leading you down the path. He gestures to a bench, but you hear a burst of sound from inside the hall and shake your head, steering you two further into the garden. “You’ve done so for me in the past. And it was no great hardship. I’m relieved these galas are nearly finished because rather than becoming more accustomed to them, I believe I am merely tiring of them.”

You finally get a good look at Dale, feeling more centered away from the crowd, and frown. He seems worn in a way he had not inside. something in the lines on his face, the shadows cast from the lanterns flickers oddly on him. Perhaps it had been so easy to convince him to take this walk because he needed the fresh air nearly as much as you had. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes,” Dale says somewhat impatiently, but given the half-focus in his eyes, you are fairly certain his annoyance rests with himself rather than you. He heaves a sigh of his own. “As I said, while nothing particularly strenuous has happened today and I was in fine spirits only an hour or so ago, I find myself…” 

He huffs another annoyed breath at both his inability to put his thoughts to words and at the sound of some others who are also walking the garden. Dale steers the two of you down a new path, avoiding the main path which had a giggling couple occupying one of the benches. The shadows flicker with more than the lantern light should account for, but there’s no purpose to it, merely an offloading of stress. Dale’s pace is steady, the rhythmic footfalls and his cane don’t show anger or impatience with you personally, or so you hope. “I desire to be left alone in a manner I am unaccustomed to. This gala is no different than the others, how is it bothering me? I cannot account for it, which is only making me more frustrated.”

You certainly understand the feeling and gently pull to a stop at a bench, tucked a little farther off the path than the others, where there might be some privacy to be found. “Would you like to take a few minutes to yourself?” You don’t want to contribute to Dale feeling stifled, even if you don’t like the idea of being anywhere on this property in the dark alone after what happened. “I can wait here, if you’d like. I would just ask for you to remain within shouting distance.”

Dale looks startled by the idea, as if going off on his own had never occurred to him. “No,” he shakes his head, his voice plain and unadorned in his automatic refusal. “No. I thank you for the offer, but when I mentioned wanting the others to go, you were not included.” He tilts his head to the side, a crooked smile spreading across his lips. “Have we not already established this?”

You smile remembering your conversation from one of the first dances. “We have. More has happened since then. You are free to change your mind.” You swallow and hope he doesn’t hear your worry that he might do so about more than this.

“I haven’t,” Dale replies just as steadily and you feel warm pleasure spread through you at his answer. His eyes widden. “Unless, of course, you have. I would also—”

“No!” Your hand tightens around his arm. “No, getting away from the others was more than enough for me.” You want to do something more to make Dale feel better because there’s still some tight tension in his shoulders. You seek to reassure him you’re on the same page regarding your weariness from public performance. “There are aspects of this gala that are different, or rather, events surrounding the gala which are. Meeting city officials and giving our opinion on wedding details Grandmother has put together is not the same as dealing with…” You hesitate and you’re fairly certain Dale knows what you're going to say regardless, but you continue, “…the investigation into what happened. Or arguing with Grandmother and Grandfather about it.”

Dale sits down heavily on the bench. You follow to sit next to him, but let him maintain the distance he created when he let go of your arm. “I suppose that’s true enough. The affect on my mood seems inconsistent and not… I am not truly under a high amount strain,” he protests, his eyes brighter and not because of how the lamp light tries to catch them. “These early stages are not particularly mentally taxing, merely setting things into motion, and I’ve certainly been under no physical hardship today. Yet I feel threadbare and stretched thin. But there has been nothing taxing my stores of strength until this. All we have done is eat and talk and enjoy ourselves for weeks!”

Dale goes to run his fingers through his hair only to be stopped by his hair tie. He yanks it out with frustration as you try to find the right words to reassure and comfort Dale. “Firstly,” you begin, “while I am aware that it comes easier to you than me, socializing is taxing. It is work. It takes effort and thought and performance. I’m fairly certain I’d be tired of it all even without what else occurred. Secondly,” you continue before he can interrupt, “I am not sure how the investigation can be anything except stressful, given the events that prompted it.” Cautiously, you reached to lay a hand on his arm, “I believe you are being too hard on yourself, Dale. It’s more than reasonable to feel worn out by everything that is happening. I certainly am and I’m not doing nearly as much as you are. I’m the one who sought you out for this chance to take a moment to ourselves after all.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” he says sincerely, but still tired. “You’re not wrong, I simply… Well, I suppose it’s rather obvious to say I wish the attack had never happened.”

“A mild understatement,” you say with a smile, “but I agree.” You don’t how you could, but you have to offer, even more plainly than you have before. “If there is anything I might be able to do, to aid you with the investigation, I will.”

“I appreciate that as well,” Dale says, leaning back against the back of the bench. “Truthfully, it’s only a waiting game now. I’ve tapped into my contacts to narrow in on who paid those who attacked us and set them to investigate those we’ve considered for the roles. I have high and low acquaintances who are skilled in such things and we’ve already discussed that you do not.” You reluctantly nod because you’ve no real foot to stand on in this arena. “They responded timely enough. It is not that they were unwilling or that I fear they are not adequately skilled.”

He pauses, but you can tell he has more to say. You wonder if remembering the right people was difficult or if this method of dealing with threats is foreign to him. You assume demons just fight each other directly, no use of proxies or exchange of goods for services, but they also have a reputation for acting in such ways on the surface—of being cunning and secretive. Maybe it was old hat to him after all. You don’t want to pressure him. He’s already such a vice with information and you want him to confide in you so very badly.

“I don’t like how I must act with those I have aiding me in my investigation,” Dale says eventually. You’re surprised such a thing would require acting, and then you’re only surprised that he’s acknowledging how much he must have to do so. Then you furrow your brow, because no, that doesn’t seem to be what he’s saying after all. He must read the confusion on your face because he clarifies, “They expect a certain sort of person, both when I act as Lord Dale or his own agent and I care for neither of them.”

“You are acting as though you are not Lord Dale?” you ask. You had thought there might be some manner of persona to ordering and speaking with the sort of hardened people that would employ such tactics, but you did not think he might take on a new identity for any part of it. The layers of performance are hard to track, but it must be even more confusing to this new Dale who is still learning how to act as the old Dale.

“Some of these…,” Dale searches for the right word before giving, “these people, they would see a Lord as a target or untrustworthy or not one they would work with. I have acted as though I am my own valet, to an extent in order to meet with them more directly.” That’s not too complicated, or so you hope. Can Dale actually change his form? His appearance? Your mind spins with new possibilities. You had thought possession limited the demon to that body, but perhaps… 

“As such as respect Mr. Murray’s service,” Dale continues, “this has never been one he could comfortably or competently provide. I value what he does provide and trust no one well enough for them to fulfill the role. Certainly not with our safety on the line, not to mention Grandmother and Grandfather’s.”

You haven’t considered that. You are pleased at how you were included, and that Grandmother and Grandfather were as well. “I appreciate you taking such care,” you say, because you know he does not need to, he did not have the ties to any of you. He’s known you all of a month or so. You want him to know that you value the effort he is putting into all of this. He could easily have faked Dale’s death with the fight and then slipped away to live his own life here. You complain about his slip ups with his form, but you’ve no notion of how hard it is to control such things. You remember the creature he had been forming into during the fight and wonder how strange it would be to go from a being like that to a mere human body.

You want to acknowledge what he is doing, but he doesn’t want to talk about it outright and the distant sounds of the others in the garden dissuade you from saying anything too straightforward. You lower your voice, just in case, and say carefully, “It’s always challenging to pretend you're someone you are not, even if that is simply a more social version of yourself. I imagine it must be difficult, if my estimation of the types of people who can trace mercenaries back to their patrons is close to accurate. Thank you.”

“I.. Of course,” is all he says in the end, but you hope that it isn’t only your imagination that the lines around his eyes have faded somewhat.

“You mentioned a different version of yourself as well,” you continue, with even more caution and hopefully precision in your words, “I expect for those you are asking to look into the patrons from the higher angle. I can only imagine what type of Lord they expect to meet. Likely ones more similar to the patrons. That too, must be a challenge.”

Dale nods slowly before frowning once more. “It is…distasteful. I do not like how I have to be, when I speak with those involved in the investigation. Necessary people, but rather foul. And they only respect those like them. I must be my own representative and the layers of deception are confusing and wearing.” He pauses, not quite short enough to be a hesitation, but you recognize his own way of deliberating. You wait with bated breath to hear what he says next. “Dale of Northridge’s reputation proceeds myself and, in addition to the mannerisms I find it safest to lean into, do not paint a pleasant picture.”

You try to breathe calmly at the third person, at his admittance, but he looks so wooden sitting there, tension riddling his form once more, that you know you need to speak quickly, but genuinely. “I know,” you reply, “I may not have the means at your disposal, but I am not without any, though they differ greatly from your own.” You had done your own research into Dale while the betrothal talks were occurring.

“I see.” His dark eyes fix on you. “What did you find when you compared the information you gathered with what you now know?”

That is such a hard question to answer because you had gotten what you expected, at first. Now… “I could ask you the same question,” you reply, because he had to have looked into you too.

“You could,” he acknowledges, looking discomforted. “Perhaps we should merely move forward from where we are now.”

You’re not sure you want to know what the original Dale’s thoughts on you had been, for all he’d made them relatively plain. And this Dale… “Perhaps. I will say that I am pleased by my current first hand investigation,” you hope he can understand the meaning in your words. You know you both said as much the other night and yet you want to say it again. You want to hear it again. “I hope the results of your own show even half the promise of mine.”

Dale still looks uncomfortable, but he smiles at that. “I find you very promising indeed.” Heat rushes to your face and rushes through your veins at the look in his eyes. Then he blinks, and the moment ends.

“On the question of my true investigation into the events of the other night, we shall have to wait and see if we can identify the patrons before another event occurs.” Dale’s more solemn as he contemplates the attack and its conspirators and you feel yourself sobering. “The Knight is still the only patron I feel confident about. Grandmother and Grandfather’s advice regarding the Duke is helpful, but still only a guess. It doesn’t even take into account if the group was mistaken about what his exact title was.”

“That is what we have to work with,” you say. “None of the searches for them will be successful if those short names were not based on actual stations.”

“At least from the contacts I have working from that position. I do have some attempting to trace who paid the mercenaries from that angle too. Of course, the hope is that these two groups will arrive at the same confirmed names, but if not…”

“I think with the titles and both angles we have a more than decent chance at cornering them,” you point out. “We even have two out of the three names we are fairly confident on, which is very promising.”

“The Heiress is still a mystery,” Dale replies, obviously still rather determinedly pessimistic. “I spent the most time with those I traveled with, so i suspect it shall be one of that group. However, over half my companions were inheriting and half of those were women. None do I remember a standout offense or other event, such as with the Duke or the Knight, that might lead to one bankrolling something of this nature.”

“You mentioned some of them to me,” you reply, Dale having listed with a brief history those who seemed to have been on good terms with Eastmont in particular. “who were with you during your entire trip, but what of others who split previously?”

“The ones who went South?” Dale blinks and then frowns, “I suppose that’s a possibility, but I haven’t spoken with any in two years, not besides a letter or two. Although, Eastmont met up with that group, so it’s possible the Heiress became involved with him then. But he is not engaged or even rumored to be courting anyone.”

Dale fails to make the connection you were leading him towards and so you must decide to speak candidly or to keep your own counsel. You swallow and continue, “I do not know most of those you journeyed with, however, Lorraine shall be Lady of Hillbright, yes?”

“Yes, in two years time,” Dale confirms, still lost in thought himself. He blinks back to the present and elaborates when you continue to look at him. “On her birthday or when she gives birth to her first child as is their family tradition. Her birthday is most likely as she is not yet betrothed. Why?”

“That makes her an heiress,” you finally say in even clearer terms. “One you parted on poor terms with, who has a great deal of knowledge of Northridge, due to your status as neighbors and childhood friends.”

“I would not say we were ever friends, precisely,” he corrects absently. Then his eyes narrow and he turns to look at you sharply, “You think she might be our missing conspirator.”

Some of your bravado fails in the face of such a fierce look. Still, you don’t retract your suggestion. “It is only a thought. I cannot give any other recommendations as my knowledge of the suspects is limited. However, I do not think that means the suggestion is unwarranted.”

“We have always been at odds, but it used to be…” he seems to search for a word but you can’t think of anything to prompt him with since you don’t understand their relationship. “…different. I’m afraid the falling out we had midway through my years of travel was rather severe and possibly prompted the entire group's split. I don’t think she would escalate our disagreement to such a height. If anything I expected the time to have cooled the argument for both of us. I had thought perhaps she would want to reconcile.”

“Perhaps,” you allow.

“You don’t think so.”

“I don’t know her or the situation,” you admit.

“And yet?”

“And yet you are not speaking of the terms of your disagreement, which implies to me it was no trivial matter.” Dale looks guilty and opens his mouth to say something, but you shake your head. “You do not need to inform me of the matter itself, but obviously it was serious. I will say that and she appeared very cordial so mayhap she does want to reconcile. However, she attempted to have you accompany her alone even this night with paper thin reasoning. It is only a thought, but I do not think she should be ruled out.”

“You’re correct,” Dale agrees, looking thoughtful, “and she was on my long list for the Heiress merely because she fit the minimal criteria. She had not stood out to me then, but I suppose just because I have moved past or argument and consider it history does not mean she does. I shall move her up the list.”

You nod, whatever motivated you to make sure you were heard even though you only have your own instincts to rely on regarding your suspicions has vanished, leaving you feeling rather foolish. Although, not enough to take it back. You wish you could be more consistent with making your opinion heard, but so often you don’t feel the need or know attempting to force an issue will only make things more difficult later on. No matter what Callalily thought.

You lean back against the bench, purposely focusing on your family to avoid thinking about the assassins any longer. Your father had been supportive, but silent as always. You’ve never been more grateful that being in public keeps your mother’s tendency to overmanage your health when it suits her at a minimum. Unfortunately,  she obviously is in the mood for now. Callalily has always told you to make her leave you be more, to somehow stop her fussing and worrying, as if that was in your power and you simply chose not to exercise it.

Asher was better at letting you simply be yourself. You used to seek refuge to his office and quietly occupy yourself while he worked, so as not to be alone. You appreciated it so much at the time, and you still do, only you wish you had talked to him more, wished you’d taken advantage of the opportunity instead of being intimidated or worried the privilege would be revoked. Now it leaves you feeling comfortable around him, but without any idea of what to actually say to him.

Douglas and Marigold, though closer in age to you, were also younger and therefore away at school or other events while you were older enough to remember. They always felt distant from you, only remembering you at holidays and awkward with how to treat you. Marigold now glosses over any such awkwardness, but more than half the time it merely feels as though she forgets you’re even there. That seems different this time at least, for all her and Callalily still talked over you more than they spoke to you.

“Is anything else on your mind?” 

You jump when Dale’s voice interrupts your thoughts. You look over to see Dale looking at you, tentative at the topic change but sincere. You sigh. “My family. It is… surprisingly strange to see them again, even my parents who I saw all of two months ago. I’ve been away at school for longer and yet it feels like a far more significant span of time. Although, I admit that when I returned home after graduating a year ago is when it truly felt strange—this is just an extension of that, I believe. My siblings I only see at holidays when they come home, Asher aside. But he’s so busy taking over the fief and with his own family so it feels like a long time for them too.”

“What part is strange?”

“It’s as though they are trying to help me put on clothes that no longer fit or see me as I was years ago, rather than as I am now. Not that I’ve changed so dramatically,” you hasten to add, “but I am older, I am different. They are different too, but they always treat me as if I do not change as they do. Or so it feels.” You sigh. “Perhaps it’s all in my mind.”

“How so?” Dale frowned, seemingly not displeased with what you were saying, but seemingly just wanting to understand. 

It gave you enough confidence to confess, “I worry that I’m interpreting their actions and words disingenuously. That I am too used to their condescension that I still see it even when it’s no longer there. What if my worries are keeping us in the past, rather than their attitudes? Except for Mother’s fussing,” you can’t help but caveat. “That I am certain is still occurring. And then I am certain all over again that it is them who are holding us back. I suppose the most reasonable explanation is that it is us all.”

“Most likely,” Dale agreed, watching you with a far more serious look on his face than the conversation allowed. “Is there anything I might do?”

“I would appreciate your being at my side?” you ask, tentative but hopeful at the thought of an ally. You’ve always dealt with them on your own. “They will be less obviously overbearing with you around, especially before the wedding.”

“They will?”

“Yes, they wouldn’t want you to change your mind,” you admit with a half smile.

Dale’s eyebrows raise in disbelief. “Surely they do not think that is a possibility at this stage of the proceedings.”

“I think it will be a possibility until the wedding is over, as far as they are concerned. I’ve been better for years and they still look at me as though I might—” You cut yourself off before you say something you regret, even if its only Dale. You could have died when you were younger. It was the more likely outcome for half your life. “My apologies. I should not be so frustrated with their concern, I just wish it extended to more than my health. Or so it feels to me. Even my siblings are more likely to tell me to sit down rather than enjoy myself. I do not like being the subject of such worry, when it feels to border paranoia or almost suspicion. It’s strangling.”

Something like recognition blooms in Dale’s eyes as he stares at you, you can almost see the thoughts tumbling around in his mind. Does he find your petty worries relatable in some way? Some way more than just the echoes of the original Dale’s human memories? Once more you feel on the precipice of learning something concrete from him. Something more tangible than the honesty of his actions beneath his veneer of the original.

Dale’s eyes don’t unfocus as your own might when recalling a memory or even his own when recalling something the original Dale has said, they grow more intent. Like a microscope focusing rather than a telescope. It’s fascinating to watch and you feel yourself drawn in closer to him.

“Yes, my parents—I.” Whatever words Dale was going to say, he cuts himself off abruptly and you lean back in surprise. Something in his eyes is hard as he hums to himself. “Hm.” He shakes his head as he seems to grow distant despite continuing to sit next to you. “I suppose they were dead, weren’t they?”

You try not to let your interest in learning anything about Dale’s true history. Perhaps demons truly do have parents after all. When it becomes clear he isn’t going to say anything more, you carefully venture to prompt him, “If you wanted to talk about them, I would be happy to listen.”

There’s another long pause, broken only by the sound of music from the ballroom. Dale shakes his head. He finally looks back at you, but his expression is a blank mask. “What is there to say?” he asks flatly. “I can’t remember them.” You’re taken aback by the shift in his mood, having thought you’d distracted him from his earlier melancholy, and you’re hurt, perhaps irrationally so, that he still won’t confide in you anything real. 

Dale blinks and sighs, running a hand through his hair. He scowls when it gets messy and carefully redoes the tie that had been holding it back. When he looks back at you, he seems tired, but no longer so far away. Cautiously, he offers, “I suppose my grandparents were overprotective for many years. It was a caging feeling.”

You don’t know what to say, what you can say. Should you be insisting he confide in you? Should you try to force this conversation about the truth? Or is he right and this is not the place for such sensitive talks? Or maybe he just doesn’t trust you enough yet? Either way, you resign yourself to accepting his peace offering of a conversational segue. 

“Yes. My parents were similar, my siblings followed their example,” you elaborate, thinking back to tonight and how you felt with them. “I felt as though they treated me like I was far younger than I was for so long. And if not younger, breakable in the very least. It didn’t help that for so many years I was in such a delicate state. I almost can’t blame them for their attitude. I just wish it changed as the years passed and I recovered. I don’t like the reminder.”

“Regardless, while I do not know them well, I do not see them as acting overly condescending,” Dale says. “I have no siblings either, but it wasn’t the impression I received. They probably simply don’t know how to act around you either. Their experience might leave them with presumptions, but I’m sure once they see more of you as you are now, they will be able to overwrite such instinctive reactions in their minds.”

“I want that,” you agree. “I hope it can be done as you say. I too must adjust to interacting with those who know longer know me and must adjust to who I am. Perhaps I need to hold all of us to a more reasonable standard.”

“Perhaps.”

A tentatively comfortable silence fell as you both enjoyed the quiet respite from heat the night brought along with the break from the gala inside. You keep an eye on Dale from the corner of your eye, unable to help it given his more melancholic mood this evening. You want to move closer to him, you want to ask more direct questions. Every time you start to open your mouth you second guess yourself when the sound of the party or the music or another guest walking a nearby path—or the one your bench is on—causes you to feel too exposed to do so. It’d be silly to spend all this time trying to cover up for Dale in public only for him to be revealed because you were indiscreet. 

A dip in music causes you to realize how long you two must have been out here and you catch Dale’s eye to find a mildly sheepish look that tells you he’s likely thinking the same thing. He picks up his cane from where it had been resting nearby, levering himself up to his feet. He holds a hand down to you. “My Lady?”

“Thank you,” you reply as you let him help you to your feet. 

“Do you feel better?” he asks as you begin to make your way back into the hall.

“I do,” you say because ultimately you do feel more centered and less on the edge of frustration than you did before. Even if you are still concerned and not particularly eager at the thought of rejoining the gala. It no longer feels oppressive at least. “Do you?”

“Yes, thank you, sana,” he says, that same boyish smile spreading across his face—the one you never saw until he was this Dale. The one that always makes you want to smile back at him. “This was a good idea.” You hold open the door given his hands are full with you and his cane. He winks. “Back into the fray.”

You can tell it's more of a mask now, similar to the one you wear in most social gatherings, but it doesn’t seem to be causing nearly the strain it had been. And the same can be said for you.

“There you are,” Callalily says when you and Dale get close enough to where your sisters are. “Have a treat so we can ignore Mari in solidarity.” 

You accept the plate of desserts she hands you with surprise but not displeasure. You continue to appreciate your sisters’ easy inclusion of you tonight. Perhaps Dale is right and they do see you better than they used to. Marigold pouts, but you feel confident enough to ask Callalily, “Why are we ignoring Marigold?”

“Because she wishes to continue dancing and I am tired.”

“You are not so old nor is the night so late,” Marigold protests. “I do not see why you are being so stubborn.”

You pick one pastry at random while you try to catch up with the current conversation only for Dale to pluck it from your fingers and pop it into his mouth. You frown at him but then he swallows to clarify, “Strawberry jam, sana.”

“Oh!” You must be disorientated to have forgotten to examine the desserts more closely. “Thank you, Dale.”

Callalily looks stricken as her eyes widen in realization. “I’m so sorry, I forgot!”

You’re surprised she was even able to figure out what Dale was even referring to. Mother simply never had strawberries in the house, similar to sesame seeds for Douglas’ allergy. It’s not as though Callalily is the one who is charged with your health. It was your own fault. “It’s okay,” you say and try to move away from this topic, the guilt in your oldest sister’s eyes making you uncomfortable. You try to push the uncharitable thought aside that of course one of the only things she can remember about your preferences is what causes you a health problem. “What is this debate about?”

Marigold seems to have missed the allergy mistake, but she hears this part of the conversation clearly. “Callalily refuses to join me to dance the octdriel,” Marigold explains, her eyes fixing a mock glare on her older sister. “But you know I can’t join without a partner.”

“Just dance with your husband,” Callalily gestures to the man in question, currently choosing a spun sugar decoration and obvious to his sister-in-law’s volunteering of him. To be honest, he likely wouldn’t mind. He’s always willing to indulge Marigold, even if dancing causes him to loose his breath rather quickly.

Marigold gives Callalily a look. “You are aware that dance is not for couples.”

“I thought you did not care for the rules of polite society,” Callalily says loftily.

“I do not. However I do have only the utmost respect for the rules of dance,” Marigold bats back. “Please.” She pouts at Callalily in a manner you’ve seen her do dozens of times, you’re grateful your time outside has once more rendered your feelings nostalgic rather than annoyed.

Before Callalily answers, Dale turns to you and asks, “Why don’t you join her?”

You blink up at him, surprised and unable to bring yourself to reiterate the obvious that she didn’t ask you.

Marigold blinks at you in surprise, as if not having considered such a possibility. “Surely, you’re too tired,” Marigold says, somewhat unsure.

“I, well, no,” you shake your head, a bit bewildered. “I am not too tired for a dance.”

“My fiance is nearly always ready for a dance,” Dale adds, eyes twinkling with mirth, likely at the calculating look forming in Margold’s eyes. “I regret I cannot join you for this one, given the dance’s stipulations.”

“It’s fine—” you make to reassure him, it not having mattered to you.

“Wonderful,” Marigold proclaims, grinning widely as she links her arm with yours. “We shall dance and have a marvelous time without you, most boring of sisters.” She turns to you still smiling. You’ve always been the boring one, it's strange to hear her declare it to be Callalily this time. “I’m so excited, I’ve never gotten to dance this with you.” She tugs on your arm, somehow more excited than when she had been asking Callalily. Is she actually seeing you as a viable partner in your own right, not just a replacement for Callalily? “Come on, everyone’s lining up.”

You blink back at Callalily, who only raises her glass in a toast at you both, and Dale, who takes the plate of desserts from you. “Enjoy yourself,” he says, his smile soft.

You smile back as your sister whisks you away.

[Part Twenty-Eight]

[beastygames]

Super System: Monster Evolution

I've always been a fan of the monster evolution genre, from games, to novels, to anything really, and since i've always also been a fan of What-ifs, i decieded to make my own monster evolution what-if game, hope you enjoy it.

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Summary:

Under unexplicabel cirusmtances, you find yourself thrust into an unforgiving fantasy realm, teeming with unrelenting challenges and the harsh demands of survival. After an encounter on your late night shift in a backwater restaurant, have led you to an unconventional reincarnation, alongside an unlikely companion, a Super System of unknown origins.

As you navigate the world, you'll undertake quests, confront formidable beasts, and undergo a process of relentless evolution, all in the pursuit of one ultimate goal: survival.

You hold the power to shape your destiny in this harsh world. Will you conquer adversity, forge alliances, and rise to the very top of the food chain, or will you succumb to the relentless cruelty that engulfs you? The choices are yours to make, as you navigate the precarious balance between your fading humanity and the overpowering instincts that now course through your veins. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Features:

-Play as male, female, or nonbinary.

-Survive, gain traits, perks, and evolve

-A classification system that grades your power level and updates as you grow

-Try to unravel the mystery of the people who led you into your current situation

-Battle monsters, or run away if you can

-Your choice matter and will shape your personality and how you will react to world

-Trust the super system or completely reject it at your behest

-Forge romantic connections or build lasting friendships with four distinct characters you'll encounter on your journey through this world.

-Will you forego your humanity or embrace your new identity and become the monster you are destined to be? ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Romance options: You can check them out here-> Forum post ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Changelog: -> 24K words

-> 42K words

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Possible implementations:

-Multiple starting species

-Multiple starting locations ------------------------------------------------------------------------------Links:

Demo

Discord

Patreon