#I don’t know there’s something about their little actions in trespasser that truly make me go awww

[bunnywearsboots]

Okay, I have some thoughts on Dorian and Iron Bull’s relationship but I will say they have the cutest ship name.

[sad-scarred-sassy]

tamlin “trapped” feyre after all negotiations broke down with the certainty of knowing feyre would endanger herself and others temporarily

from the wu this fandom talks about it you’d think he’s mother gothel but like. it was only until he came back. it wasn’t like he had her isolated, restricting access to who got to see her. he offered to invite her sisters - she was the one who said no! i really don’t see how it’s comparable to feyre + the ic making nesta stay on a remote island for what it’s worth with two near strangers who she has little to no positive associations with if they can’t be considered the cause of all her trauma in the first place (in that they are fae etc)

whereas nesta’s sentence (bc let’s face it she was sent to azkaban as punishment with a fun caveat like “you’re free if you can cross the sea! and manage to maintain a sense of identity while around guards who remind you how terrible you are of course!”) is indefinite and it’s pretty obvious from everything that comes after that it’s just something she’s expected to make the best of as opposed to something that can get better with time.

and cassian being her jailer whose amicability she has to earn by performing rigorous physical activity she had no interest in even if she grew to love it.. i wonder if she’s had that experience before

sorry, i’m not disagreeing with you, i saw your post + i just die a little inside every time someone’s like “ew tampon” “wow i wish i had a cassian” like no. they’re not the same, you (not you, ily) just have the attention span of a gold fish on catnip

You know I restrained myself from posting more on this because I’m such a hater sometimes lol, gotta focus on more positive things sometimes but... I’ll get this out of my chest.

I wanna preface by saying I do not care if people like Cassian/Nessian, truly. I even like fanon Cassian and fanon Nessian. I also have seen very little people that like Cassian bashing Tamlin (probably bc of my filters and just the type of blogs I follow bc I do love them all) BUT☝🏼 what I do see is a lot of “Disclaimer: we know Tamlin is an abuser” on Tamlin neutral posts (when no other character gets that treatment) or using Tamlin as a cautionary tale of how he treated Feyre and then praise the other “mates” for being “the right ones” and treating them correctly or something, which does annoy me a bit, but alas.

In my opinion yes, you are right, what Cassian and the Inner Circle did to Nesta is a million times worse than what Tamlin did to Feyre, but nobody, nobody considers Cassian’s actions in Silver Flames as bad as they actually are. Nobody considers him an abuser like Abusive Tamlin™️. When talking about what Nesta has endured in SF people put all the blame on Rhys and Feyre (which yes of course) but they forget Cassian was also there, willingly.

I’ve seen people use the argument that both Nesta and Cassian treated each other poorly in their relationship, but I have to ask… what did Nesta do to him that’s worse than what he did… intentionally. She was mean to him and called him bastard like four times? And only when he trespassed her boundaries. Somehow this is comparable to him being her jailer, taking her to train in the middle of Illyria, being a dick when he knew she was struggling, telling her everyone hates her and he cannot understand why her sisters love her, controlling her food intake as if she’s a gym bro or something when she clearly had an eating disorder, not telling her that Feyre was not mad at her and letting her BREAK while making her carry a huge backpack and forcing her on a hike not talking to her for days, to the point she fainted and fell on her face near a cliff?? (this because she made Rhys mad). Anyway the list goes on.

And you know what I don’t care if people like this guy after all this, but it is just funny how somehow Neris shippers are the “morally dubious” ones lol (and don’t get me started on Tamlin stans aka the devil worshippers), because Nesta said she “deserved Eris” (as a punishment), babygirl your WHOLE relationship with Cassian has been a punishment, for what sins you ask? Being mean (as she should) and spending the High Lord’s coin.

And what makes it worse is that the narrative will always favor the Inner circle, Cassian will never pay for what he’s done the way Tamlin has (and still is) he will never even apologize because he was “holding out his hand” or whatever bs that was. (Honestly if I get proven wrong and he does pay and apologize then I may give him a chance, but I highly doubt it)

I won’t even pretend that I think Neris will be canon as much as I wish it was, even if I know that if SJM wrote it, it still would have had its problems but at least Nesta wouldn’t have ended up with the people who treated her like a criminal just because she wouldn’t kiss their ass. And on top of all, with a mate that doesn’t even have the balls to stand up for her. Holy shit.

Okay I got it all out of my chest I think, I’ll try not to hate so much but this shit bro makes me seethe. I’ll go touch some grass.

[bbhyeoliskooks]

Yoo! Can I request something with our baby junnie? Like it's all up to you as to what you want to do, but could it be with junnie? Thanks 🥺

･ﾟ°• ♔ ��° 𝐒𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 °• ♔ •°･ﾟ

You kiss Prince Yeonjun on the cheek for the first time while he’s sleeping, but knowing him... it turns into something more.

･ﾟ°• ♔ •°･ﾟ°• ♔ •°･ﾟ°• ♔ •°

Pairing: Yeonjun x Reader (gender-neutral)

Genre: Like... 91399 cups of fluff ! And maybe 1 cup of angst~

Warnings: some rlly soft and cheesy, unedited writing at 12am~ but other than that, none !

(omg i wrote this at 12am and i have some testing thingies tomorrow 😭😭 please let me do well 🧍 also anon who requested this ! I’m so sorry that it took long, but i hope this drabble makes it up 🥺 and to be quite honest with you, i started crying during this because it’s so soft skdsjf but i hope you enjoy 🥺💕)

･ﾟ°• ♔ •°･ﾟ°• ♔ •°･ﾟ°• ♔ •°

Oh, why couldn’t he be yours? 

You knew exactly the reasons why, yet your mind scrambled to find some examples of why it’d be okay just like he promised, as a friend. It didn’t go well, and you found yourself thinking why this- all this meeting up whenever you had free time was wrong. One, because you weren’t suitable enough to love him as you were a commoner from the kingdom he served. Two, because the queen would eventually find someone much better than you, a simple person, to be his betrothed. Three, because you were certain he wouldn’t ever like you enough to give you such blooming love and affection. 

You could go on and on about why everything was a mistake of course, however you were sick of being sad for yourself since in the end, you would never be right for each other. Not to mention that it was sort of rude to assume he reciprocated feelings for you as well. You’d be a fool to think that, for he was a dashing prince you knew you could never have. 

Even in the garden now where he was sleeping on your lap, your gracious heart swelled with joy despite feeling sympathy for yourself. Having him so close to you, hearing his soft, quiet breaths as he emerged himself into a deep slumber, cherry blossom lips parted into a tiny ‘o’ shape mumbling out your name occasionally to faintly check up on you, you could never really get enough of how gorgeous he was although he was in the middle of resting. The prince simply looked adorable whenever he stirred, furrowing his eyebrows and rubbing his head against your thighs just to make sure you were still there. A smile became of your lips as you ran your fingers gently through his soft hair, humming a warm tune that his ears melted to. You couldn’t catch yourself from falling in love with him again and again. 

Thirty minutes before, he convinced you to come hang out with him in his favorite garden even if he knew the risk of you two getting caught was truly chancy. Since he was gone from inside the castle, it would be much more dangerous too but there was no way you could deny him and his puppy eyes, no matter how perilous it was. You could’ve been sent to the cages just for making eye contact with him, and the queen would only find this friendship to be a taboo. Did that stop the both of you though? The word such as no could only resound in your head. 

You sighed, looking at the sunset in front of you. Soon, you would have to go to your own dwelling. It’s getting late and besides, you shouldn’t even have agreed to be here in the first place since it could be counting as trespassing.

But the beautiful prince you loved so dearly in your lap who was sleeping, blissfully unaware of your forbidden heart... you felt your eyes well up with glistening tears. You have to keep reminding yourself that he’ll eventually love someone else. That he’ll move on to find someone better who deserves him more than you. That he has to get married soon with a neighboring, peaceful royalty because it’ll benefit the kingdom and all of its land. 

An icy, sparkling tear fell on his left cheek and he slightly shuddered unconsciously, slowly but surely waking up unbeknownst to you. 

You gently stroked his right cheek in return at his turning, sadness filling your heaving chest while you gazed through thick eyelashes at him. How were you ever going to confess if the world was against you? Whatever this was, it wasn’t right. And you knew he’d be furious too if you left without a word, but this would be for the best. You weren’t sure how to say this, instead opting to close your eyes as you thought showing actions would be the best. 

Arching down a little you delicately pressed your lips against his cheek, heart filling up with agony by the time you pulled away. It was short and sweet but it was enough to rip your soul into shreds. Everyone said that love was beautiful, being so healing that it wrapped up every single wound and pain, yet this was the most painful thing you’ve ever done. Leaving him for sure and promising to yourself that you’d never intentionally see him again. 

“Please, don’t cry. You know I hate seeing you cry.”

It was Yeonjun’s gentle voice that brought you out from your daze and you came to realize that he must’ve been awake to feel that kiss on his cheek. Hearing his voice was enough to throw you to tears, despite you wiping them away the moment they fell. 

“Princess, is there anything wrong?” You winced at the nickname he loved to call you, avoiding his intent gaze which was filled with worry and concern. You weren’t sure how to say it without confessing your erroneous feelings. 

“No, it’s just,” your voice clearly broke, obviously showing that there was something indeed wrong. “I think I should head home soon since I’m worried about my mother.”

“You’re lying to me,” he breathed out tiredly, tenderly reaching up to cup your cheek. You melted at his touch, shutting your eyes at how warm he was. You were absolutely putty in his hands; you never knew how you could be so whipped for a person. 

“I’ll ask again. What’s wrong?”

You were adamant on not answering.

Yeonjun chuckled at this, shaking his head as he clucked his tongue. He could’ve used his authority as the prince of Rosea, but that was too harsh in his opinion. Then as he rummaged to get an answer out of you this time, suddenly you found the two of you sitting in silence for a while. What he was thinking- you weren’t sure at all. But in his mind, he found the perfect solution to make you speak to him. After all, three times a charm, right?

His comforting yet playful voice broke the quietness of the seemingly everlasting garden. 

“Then if I do this, will you truly know how much I care for you?”

Without another word he twisted his torso up towards you, holding your cheeks gingerly in his hands as his lips collided against yours. He laid a tender kiss against your lips, smiling as soon as you kissed him back with so much passion and pent up feelings. The love climbing higher and higher in his heart burst into flames and he couldn’t help himself, embracing you in his arms so much so that he never wanted to let go. It hadn’t even been so long but at that point, he treasured you so preciously more than anyone else he had ever loved. 

Although hesitantly when you both needed air, he pulled away, leaving one more chaste kiss on your cheek like you had done to him earlier. 

You too were out of breath, too stunned to say anything at what happened. In response to this, your stomach was tumbling and tumbling, creating so many butterflies that multiplied to an infinite expense. And gosh, your heart was fluttering too much for your own good you swore he could hear it pounding through your chest!

Yeonjun laid a hand over the area of where your heart was, grinning from ear to ear at how well the outcome turned out. It pulsated under his fingers, confirming the worries he had from earlier. He was expecting you to pull away first or slap him since this was a bold action but that was far from it. He wasn’t able to stop himself from smiling so widely, and he wondered why. But the answer was there. It had always been there.

He effortlessly leaned in again, pulling your head towards him so this time you touched foreheads. His heart was beating so quickly too, shouting the answer all along. 

“And something is telling me that with your fluttering heart, you love me too.”

---

Posted: 3/2/21- 12:00am

Tags:

[hndcrm]

47 and Diana are in the safehouse in Berlin. As night falls 47, plagued by his newfound memories, can't sleep. He wanders through the house and discovers Diana snores and talkes in her sleep. What will he do about it?!😏

I have made this so much angstier than the prompt calls for im so sorry my brain only provides pain apparently

--

He was glad to have his memories back. There was no denying it. It was liberating to know the events of his life in order, to have them fade back into something understandable as opposed to the blank, cryptic void from before. Some were better than others, memories of his and subject 6’s friendship, of the rare times he’d been able to sneak away with his bunny before its untimely and cruel murder.

Despite this, the memories were overwhelmingly bad, and none quite as pervasive and frightening as the car bomb in 1989.

He was the one to trigger it. It was a mission like any other at the time, he hadn’t thought much of it. Simple. Two targets, Peter and Nancy Burnwood, their daughter considered acceptable collateral damage. In the end, there was no collateral damage and perhaps that’s the only comfort he takes from the memory, that he didn’t kill her, that he was lucky enough to have her alive today. It’s not comforting because he knows she will leave him as soon as she finds out. He can’t blame her. He’s the one responsible for her involvement in everything bad in their world. He killed her parents, changed her life forever, ruined it without a second thought at the time. He recalls with tears in his eyes how she was there, how she was present when he set it off, that this innocent child had to witness the violent death of her parents. He’s hurt Diana irreversibly and she will hate him forever if she finds out.

Even throughout his career with her, he often pondered morality and his own goodness. Diana became his conscience and urged in private that he wasn’t evil, promised him that he was worthy of kindness and love. He wasn’t sure even then how much he believed her. He trusted her, however, so he did not question the assertions.

He knows she was wrong now. She deserves to know the truth, but it would result in her disappearing from his life, and he’s sure he would die without her.

And now, he cannot sleep. He stares out of the window in the living room and watches the night sky, silently bets on how long it will be before he turns to alcohol for comfort.

There are soft snores coming from Diana’s bedroom. He gulps. The door is tilted open.

The scene before him is like some practical test of his character and self-control. He could come in and watch her sleep, just for a few moments. It wouldn’t disturb her and she would never know, and he could memorise the details of her face, add to his mental depiction of her before she leaves him, imagine what it could be like to hold her like this if they could ever be this intimate together. He could pretend to be one of the few lucky men who have been able to truly witness this, to be able to say they’ve had the pleasure of sleeping next to Diana Burnwood herself.

Or he could do the right thing and close the door, minding his own business as a professional work colleague should, though even that description is generous towards him after what he’s done. He is evil.

Diana says he is good, but he knows she’s wrong. If he were good he wouldn’t want to come in and see her right now.

It’s late and he cannot sleep, he thinks the guilt will swallow him whole if he does not distract himself. He deserves nothing to do with her, deserves to die by her hands a million times over and rot in the deepest circle of hell, but now, watching her silently while she sleeps does not seem so sinful in comparison to the pain he has caused her.

He pushes the door open enough to slide inside and tilts it closed.

The moonlight peeking from behind the curtain streaks across her ribs and reminds him of a bullet that he was responsible for. He feels sick. She deserves so much better.

She’s tangled in the sheets, hair flamed out around her face, and instantly there’s an urge to run his hands through it, to move it off her cheek and behind her ear.

She looks delicate. He knows better than to think so improperly of her, ‘delicate’ is an insult when she is a force to be reckoned with and could kill a man with her sharp-tongued nature alone, but there is no denying the more physical aspects of her beauty when she’s sprawled out so ravishingly. Her upper lip is carved down carefully, brows furrowed slightly, bosom caressed by her silk nightgown and her hands elegantly tangled in the sheets, like a scene from an ancient erotic painting, beauty that could only be appropriately captured by a lover.

She stirs then, and he holds his breath, terrified that he’s awoken her with his selfishness.

She hums something incomprehensible, and the thought that she might sleeptalk scares him. He should leave. Diana trusts him, she does not hide from him. If what she dreams of is something he already knows, there’s no use invading her privacy. If what she dreams of is something he is not aware of, then he should stay clueless, respect her choice to keep it from him and leave, pretending he was never here.

He decides to do the right thing. He pads towards the door.

He’s stopped in his tracks when he hears her moan his name. He can feel his face heating up. He’s evil for having ever come here in the first place. How can he disrespect her so cruelly?

Curiosity turns him around, as he tries to picture the shape her mouth might take when she moans his name, but there is little left to the imagination when she does it again, quieter, and the sight is somehow more erotic and vulgar than anything he’s ever seen, he feels his trousers tightening.

He knows she doesn’t really want him like this. Dreams don’t reflect reality. Perhaps she thought of him crudely once, and he was lucky enough to catch it, but it was a one-off because she must know she deserves better than him.

He’d be more than willing to play out her dreams in reality. He couldn’t, of course, bring himself to ever actually do it. Their shared intimacy exists purely as a fantasy in both of their imaginations.

He’s grateful for his trained stillness as he’s about to leave again, determined that he’s long crossed a line. He must go if he ever wants Diana to think of him neutrally, at least. If she wakes up to see him standing before her so improperly she’ll know of his vile nature before he reveals it.

As he’s something like a metre away from the door, he sees a frustrated Olivia rub her eyes and grumble ‘fucking Burnwood’, then she slams the door in front of him before he can escape and he panics as he’s stuck in a deeply compromising position. The door is too squeaky to risk opening again, but it’s too late, for when he turns around to look at Diana, she’s awake, rubbing her eyes and squinting in the dark. He prays she doesn’t see him.

“47? Is that you?” She calls out, and he freezes. He could still leave. She would know he was here, but it would save him the embarrassing conversation until the morning at least, or maybe, hopefully, she’d forget. “What are you doing here?” She sits up in bed, a strap of her nightgown falling down her arm. The usual excuses for trespassing won’t cut it. I got lost, he thinks sourly.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He starts. How much of the truth should he reveal? Lying to her feels wrong, he knows she knows him too well for it. “I heard you talking, I thought maybe something was wrong.”

“Oh.” Now she turns red. “Well, I’m quite alright.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. He nods dumbly.

“Good.”

“And 47,” she adds then. “What did you hear?” She does a good job of playing off her voice crack, but he can sense the fear in her voice - fear he is responsible for. Why wouldn’t she fear him when he disrespects her like this?

“It was nothing - I didn’t understand anything.” He lies. He must lie to make her feel better. He shouldn’t have come in in the first place. She plays with the strap of her nightgown. He wants to leave but she looks so worried. Guilt greets him again.

“You’ve been avoiding me lately.” She says finally, chest rising in the familiar pattern she uses to calm herself down. “Is everything alright?”

I yearn for you, he thinks. It’s true. The thought tastes disgusting on his tongue.

“The serum. The memories-” he begins, but the following words don’t come. He doesn’t know how to tell her the truth. He doesn’t want to. She furrows her brows together and looks sadly at him.

“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Diana gives him a lopsided smile. “If you want to talk about it-”

“No.” His voice sounds harsher than he intends. She cannot know.

He leaves. Another night is spent alone on the cold leather couch, thinking of her in the dark. Eventually, guilt takes over and he cannot bear to think of anything, so he opens a lager and drinks himself to sleep.

He wakes up to find himself covered by a blanket in the morning, and Diana sitting in an armchair next to him. He gulps.

“I’m sorry about last night,” she sighs. He shakes his head, mutters a protest, but the memories of his actions flooding back terrify him. He’s been awful.

He sits up. She hasn’t done anything wrong, and the shame painted across her face makes his insides twist with guilt. He doesn’t deserve to touch her, but all he can think of is comforting her, so he reaches out tentatively. Immediately she smiles at him and wraps her arms around him. It’s unfair how good it feels, how their bodies seem to fit so well together, and she’s innocently on his lap in his embrace, unaware of how many nights he’s spent fantasizing about this. He deserves none of it, he knows.

“I’m sorry, Diana.” He almost sulks into the warm skin revealed by her bateau neckline.

“Whatever for?” She whispers, and he aches again. He can’t tell her.

“I love you,” he whispers as the tears run down his cheeks and he wonders if she can feel them on her neck. It comes out instinctually, and he regrets it immediately. She doesn’t answer. He prays she won’t think anything of it. He’s pathetic. “I’m so sorry.”

They don’t speak of it again, and he spends every living second praying for her forgiveness, for when she eventually finds out.

When he knows she knows, it’s too late for him, and he’s glad she’s killed him. He spends his dying moments craning his neck up to ensure she’s his last dying image. He hopes Edwards will be kind to her.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 22: Preparations

This is chapter 22 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 3,093

Cw: pain, brief loneliness, implied derealization

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur was somewhat thankful that the early morning interaction had been disheveled enough, for Wilbur not to have been asked to leave. It was kind of funny really, that even though Wilbur had been caught trespassing where he shouldn’t, the young boy had been far too distracted to kick him out. Far too confused and awkward. It seemed to be a general trend whenever Ranboo was talking to him.

Though perhaps Wilbur couldn’t act as if he was above that awkwardness, as he hadn’t even gotten around to asking exactly what kind of party it was. He assumed however, for natural reasons, that if it was a party for a toddler, presents for said toddler would be involved. Regardless, Wilbur didn’t think giving a present to a child would be looked down upon in any case. If anything, it might repair what he previously damaged. Even if it was an infinitesimal amount, it could still help.

“Oh oh oh! What should we get him?” Ghostbur asked excitedly, “What does he like? Red, gold, nether things, books…” He chuckled as he jokingly added, “Us! We could wrap ourselves in a present.”

Wilbur chuckled despite himself. “We could,” he said with a smile, feeling a bit of exhaustion dragging at him, but finding it easier and easier to ignore. “Let’s see if there’s anything we can use in these chests.”

Wilbur rummaged through them for a while, only managing to find four gold ingots that could perhaps interest the child. He briskly crafted them into a pair of gold boots that he figured would suit Michael’s size. He narrated the action to Ghostbur as he did it.

“They’re like rubber boots!” Ghostbur had commented excitedly.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I have an idea!” 

“Shoot,” a smile lingered in his voice as he grabbed a dark gray satchel nearby. It was light-weight and durable. Perfect for a gift or two. He carefully put the golden boots inside it as Ghostbur rambled on cheerfully.

“So, hear me out. I’ve got the best idea ever in the whole universe. We should make him a card! He can hold and look at it, and you can be nice in it too!”

Wilbur walked downstairs, grabbing some sugar cane from the farm as he quickly pressed it into paper. A quill sat nearby as he picked it up. “Alright, so a simple message…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off.

“Okay, how about, ‘Oh, Michael, you are the most amazing person to exist and I hope you continue existing forever.’”  

Wilbur looked into the air as if he was on The Office. “Or we could go with something more general.”

“I gotcha! We can do ‘You are the most amazing person to exist and you are so cool that I hope you continue existing forever.’”

“First of all, I thought I said more general, not less.”

“I did make it more general! I removed Michael’s name from it.”

Wilbur facepalmed gently so it wouldn’t hurt Ghostbur. “I meant for it to be less… emotional? I don’t think that’s the right word, but I want the card to be neutral.”

Ghostbur hummed in agreement. “Okay. We can say ‘I feel neutral about your existence, but I do agree that you chose to exist at this current time, and by the way, you are also very cool.’”

Wilbur sighed, “I’ll take over the writing.” He narrated the words on the paper, “Dear Michael, The world will be at your feet someday! But for now, it's just these gold boots.” A smile slipped on his face at the words replaying in his mind in company with Ghostbur’s noises of approval.

“Oh can we do a drawing at the bottom? Michael likes drawings.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Ghostbur excitedly squealed, “Can we- oh my, I have so many good ideas.”

Wilbur chuckled, pleased to hear the ghost being his typical self again. “I can start with drawing Michael?”

Ghostbur clapped, “Yeah! And- and holding hands with him?”

“Sure, just give me one second.” He might have been a leader of a nation and a general for many soldiers, but Wilbur certainly was not an artist. He tried genuinely drawing a face, only for him to scratch it out and get a new paper out and transfer his original message onto it. Instead, he imitated Michael’s drawing style- stick figures. 

He drew playful lines across the bottom of the paper. He eventually formed a small stick person with little pig ears, a big smile, and black boots. He would have colored them, but he didn’t want to risk Michael eating the paper as he did just days ago. 

Next to Michael, he drew a slightly bigger person. Curly hair at the top and a rough trenchcoat around the body. He hesitantly finished the picture with a small smile on his own face. It felt a bit silly to draw like that. To be making a card for a child after everything, drawing handholding and smiles. Yet Ghostbur’s excitement was strangely infectious. It was sort of relieving in a sense, even if Wilbur wasn’t the type to fall for such bright positivity.

“Alright, the drawings are finished.” 

He was about to fold the paper into his pocket when Ghostbur called out, “Wait, did you put any stars on there?”

“No?”

“What kind of drawing is it if there’s no stars?!”

Wilbur sighed quietly as he quickly scribbled some stars in the corners. “Alright, I’m putting it away now-”

“Wait! Did you sign it?”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “I’m giving it to him. He knows it’s from me.”

Ghostbur pleaded, “But cards always look better if they’re signed. Just a quick, ‘Love, Wilbur and Ghostbur’ makes the card a thousand times better! No- a billion!”

Wilbur sighed as he remained frozen in place before the words settled in. His mind easily processed the ridiculous request, but not the fact that Ghostbur wanted to be signed on the card too. Wilbur should have probably assumed it, but the idea didn’t fully settle with him. “Alright.” The words were quiet as he quickly wrote down, ‘Sincerely, Uncle Wilbur’.

"Is there anything else I need to add?"

"Hmm, I don't think so."

Wilbur gently placed the card in the satchel as he quickly ran up to see the clock once more, but he slightly frowned to see the hour hand still lingering between the four and five. He brushed it off though. He could easily occupy himself anyway. His eyes glazed over the books on the table before he internally groaned at the thought of hitting the books once again. 

He walked over to the table, placing the satchel onto it, before grabbing one of the books before Ghostbur spoke, "Oh, we're reading again?" His voice sounded slightly dismayed.

Wilbur shook his head, "Nah, I'm just putting away some books." Ghostbur made a pleased sound  as Wilbur quietly pushed the leather-bound book back into its spot. 

He sighed quietly at the odd silence of the room. He focused on the ticking of the clock. It

was a nice sound to focus on. It was a constant reminder he was still alive. Even if he wasn't

the happiest in his position, he was alive. 

An alive man that was going to attend a toddler's party with a homemade card that had poorly drawn stickmen inside.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as he finished putting some of the books away. Most of them held no useful information anyhow, and perhaps leaving them out would appear suspicious, should Tubbo return.

He wondered for a brief moment if Ranboo intended on telling Tubbo about Wilbur’s presence in the bunker. He imagined Tubbo insisting on having a talk as soon as Wilbur arrived. Prime, Wilbur despised talks. He just hoped the awkwardness of the interaction, and Ranboo’s apparent secrecy, was enough for Ranboo to leave it out.

Wilbur walked downstairs, finding that his leg had almost healed during his days in the bunker. He was going to harvest some watermelon, simply to pass the time. As he was about to do so, his eyes fell upon something dusty, peeking out of a chest he hadn’t bothered looking much at before. He knew what it was. He closed his eyes momentarily, to get a hold of his thoughts, before walking to the chest, and taking out a dusty mirror. 

He rubbed the shiny end of it with his sleeve. The mirror was still vaguely cloudy, but it still showed him nonetheless. Well- not exactly him, but rather his body. The man who stared back was nearly unrecognizable with gray bruises scattered along his face that easily complemented the bags under his eyes.

Complement was a rather strong word as all of his features seemed off-putting to him. His greasy hair hung close to his pale-ish skin. He squished his face with one of his hands, truly making sure that his reflection was his own. Of course, the mirror version moved along with him, but he strangely wished it didn’t. 

His mind drifted back to his encounter with Ranboo. Had they really intended on inviting Wilbur to the party in the first place? Or had that been done out of pity?

The only good thing about his reflection was that he couldn’t see the burns along his chin anymore. He touched it gently, finding the skin to be a little softer than before. 

He automatically put the mirror down as he headed towards the shower that laid in the bunker. He stopped two steps away as Ghostbur chimed in, “What time is it over there?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” He was pulled out of his thoughts quite easily as he stayed frozen in place.

Confusion laced Ghostbur’s voice, “You can’t check?”

Wilbur shut his eyes tightly for a moment before taking a sharp breath, “I could, but I have to ask you something.”

Wilbur despised the cheeriness in Ghostbur’s response. “Ask away!”

Images of Wilbur’s face flashed through his own mind as he hesitantly asked, “Alright, Ghostie, there’s not an easy way to bring this up.” Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, not wanting to interrupt Wilbur. Despite Wilbur not wanting to continue on, he forced the words out of him, “So- do you know what a shower is?”

“Yeah! It’s one of those plants on the ground with pretty petals.”

A dry chuckle left Wilbur, “No, that’s a flower.”

“Oh. Is it what Tubbo uses in baking?”

Wilbur sighed this time, “No, that’s wheat flour.” As Ghostbur was about to give another guess, Wilbur cut him off, “I’ll just tell you.”

Ghostbur sounded slightly dismayed at his refused answers, “Alright.”

“Alright. Alright,” the words were quiet in his mind as he forced himself back on track. “A shower is something people do to get clean. They use soap and… water to do this.”

“Aww, I was about to guess that too.”

“Right.” It was now or never. “I think I need to take a shower.”

“Okay!”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “You’re… okay with me taking a shower? You know it’s going to require water, right?”

Ghostbur’s breath hitched at the realization. “Ah. I thought you meant soap or water.”

Wilbur exhaled, the tension flowing through his body. “Yeah.”

“So why do you need to take one? I know people in general do it, but you can explain to him that water hurts me.”

Wilbur shook his head, “He can’t know about you.”

Child-like curiosity filled Ghostbur’s voice, but it was slightly dimmer than what it should have been, “Why?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. It was too risky to describe in words. With how little trust Tubbo had in Wilbur, it would most likely foil their plans of Ghostbur’s escape. The suspicion and worry in Tubbo’s eyes wouldn’t temporarily go away at a joke. There wouldn’t be a moment alone with his thoughts as everyone whispered about the mind of his. They wouldn’t say anything bad either, just harsh truths that hurt more than he’d like to imagine. The truths he thought he could escape by finishing his unfinished symphony. 

Wilbur’s failed nation transitioned to a mind that couldn’t go a day without the desperate need to talk to someone again. The need for someone to reassure him he was alive and he wasn’t imagining something in the train station again. He was quite imaginative in there. He made fantasy worlds with so many new people, but at the end of the day, he imagined Tommy by his side laughing or cooking breakfast with Tubbo again. 

On the rougher days, he would imagine Fundy there. Sometimes he talked about his problems to him, only to cry harder when he remembered his son wasn’t actually there. Or he would imagine Niki running a hand through his hair, telling him all the things he needed. He’d been without that real warm touch for thirteen years that holding himself made a shaky sob leave. It had been pathetic of him to imagine such things, but the silence got to you after a few years, after he had spent a long time growing bitter. No one could see him anyway, so maybe it hadn’t counted at all, as he thought about those potential blissful moments.

The moments he never got. Perhaps he was still at the train station after all, the slight buzz of the lights being the only noise he could hear. No one laughed with him when he came back. The most he got was a dry chuckle that he happened to witness. There was no one to hold or listen to him. Not a single person smiled at his return. He was alone in the train station he thought he escaped days ago.

Tears blurred his vision as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pushed his body against a wall as he slid down it. The gray wall that accompanied the gray floors and flickering fluorescent lights. The tunnel that didn’t stop seemed to stop his mind. It blocked him in every direction that led to happiness before his murmuring thoughts entered.

It took a moment to realize it wasn’t his thoughts, but rather an echoy version of them. “Wilbur? Is everything okay?”

Wilbur swallowed back a cry. “Yeah,” his voice shook for a moment as he tried to breathe normally. “Sorry I spaced out for a second.” There wasn’t a train station. He wasn’t back there. He was in the bunker. “What were you saying?”

Ghostbur quietly answered, “Nothing. Oh- earlier you said you wanted to take a shower?”

The words brought Wilbur back to a more tangible reality. “Right…” he said with a nod, pushing himself up from the ground, his posture wavering slightly. He swallowed something in his throat. “Are you… Are you okay with that?” he quickly added, “I’ll make it as brisk as I can I promise! It’ll mostly be to wash my hair, and to look and smell just a little more presentable.”

Ghostbur had very little reason to trust him. Wilbur was incredibly aware of that at this point, his promises losing all meaning at his forgetfulness, or plain dishonesty. “Of course. Just- Just don’t take too long please.”

“I won’t,” Wilbur said. “I promise,” he repeated, trying to add as much weight to the words as he could. Engrave them, so his mind wouldn’t drift away from it. To keep his mind from drifting away in general.

Gently he put his clothes aside, placing the familiar old trenchcoat and blouse in a little pile. He had associated the outfit with himself for so long, that looking at it apart from him, was almost surreal. Slowly, he walked into the shower. He put the temperature to be as cold as he could, unsure if there would even be hot water in a bunker like this. It would serve as a good reminder that he should make this quick. “I am going to turn it on now. It’ll… It’ll probably reach my entire body.” 

“Okay…” Ghostbur said. Wilbur caught himself missing the excitement from when they were making the card together. Frivolous. 

He placed his hand on the shower knob and turned it, careful not to let his hand too much under the water. It proved to be a rather needless endeavor though, as his face and body were immediately drenched in cold water. He immediately shivered from the feeling as he felt his movements become jittery and robotic. He heard hurried breaths from his mind, and whimpers of pain, though it was surprisingly silent this time around.

Wilbur let his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. He grasped some soap next to the shower, and mixed some into his hair and on his body, quickly using the water to wash it off. His heart was beating fast, as he rushed to turn the knob once more, some soap still lingering on a few strands of hair. He bolted to the other side of the room, to dry all the remaining water off with a towel, almost as if the uncomfortably cold water was burning him too. The second he could no longer find a drop he let out a few breaths. “There we go. Done.”

Ghostbur took a moment before he replied, his own breathing calming down as well. “Okay… Okay, that’s good! T-thank you.”

Wilbur cringed slightly at the gratitude, not entirely certain what he was being thanked for. “Of course,” he said quietly, his breathing quite obvious and echo-y in the empty room. He suddenly realized that he missed the ticking of the clock. He shook his head, and put on his clothes again, unsure if the warmth they brought was comfort or something that settled heavier in his chest. He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

He walked out of the room, grabbing the satchel with Michael’s present in it. He glanced at the clock once more, finding that it was only around 5:30am. He stood in the middle of the bunker for a good minute, closing his eyes tightly, and holding on to the sound of the clock. When he opened his eyes once more, they settled on the potions he brewed over the past few days. There weren’t many, but they comforted him nonetheless. He absent-mindedly packed three strength potions into the satchel, perhaps planning on giving some to Tubbo and Ranboo as a gift. 

Then, with determined steps he started walking towards the exit. It felt as if a weight was slightly lifted as he walked out the bunker, though he had grown so used to the weight that he wasn’t sure if that was comforting to him or not. Once he found himself in Pogtopia, he decided to focus on the ground beneath his feet, rather than the buttons lining the walls.

When the sun reached Wilbur’s face, the rays seemed to make his vision less blurry in a sense. The darkness that was so welcoming before, and still called to him, was shoved away in favor of the sunrise.

He remembered right then, when he had declared the first sunrise he saw when he returned, his sunrise. A reminder of life, and opportunity. He stared at the bright sky for a little while. Gently, he placed the satchel on the ground, the glass bottles quietly clinging against each other, and sat down in the grass next to it. He breathed the air into his lungs, as his shoulders untensed. He watched the sunrise intently, as he waited for the party to approach.

[courtlyharlequin]

For🌙 - Before me stood the Malleus Draconia himself. He guided me into the more thorny parts of the woods where his castle stood, once inside we had some tea and spent the night talking and cuddling by the fireplace

Aromatherapy

A/N: Not that you need to know, but this fic was inspired by black chamomile bergamot hand soap. It had such a calming effect on me that somehow transferred into my writing. It smells really good I’m ♡♡♡

A/N²: This was a little self indulgent as I wanted to establish some lore of the event into this fic. Also, my writing might be a little rusty after my semi-hiatus so I’m sorry if it’s not up to par as my other works. Thank you for being so patient. I should be able to write more frequently now  <3

A flurry of delicate crystals fell from the sky, nipping the tip of your nose with a slight sting. You held back a sneeze as you quickened your pace. The creatures of the night howled with the wind. You spun your heel, meeting with dozens of glowering eyes that illuminated the forest. They crawled towards you. Each step forward unearthed more grotesque features ranging from more than one set of jaws to foaming mouths. Your breath hitched and you turned around, picking up your pace. Your legs were light as a kilogram of feathers. As the snow fell more vehemently, you prayed that the sun would rise soon.

When the White Rabbit led you into the woodlands, she had stated that you were invited for a tea party, one where you could eat anything you desired– if those things fit weren’t mustard and could fit into the Hatter’s hat that is. Yet here you were, ready to become a night creature’s late night snack. Apparently, slightly crumbled cookies from your basket did not suffice. They discarded the goodies the moment they received the basket. Granted, you did throw it at them as a distraction.

Your foot collided with something underneath the thin sheet of snow. You yelped as you fell to the ground. The snow crunched under your weight as you shifted onto your knees. It was warm, like an embrace. Since when was snow warm?

The beasts’ growls were in earshot. Rising to your feet was a struggle. You scrambled across the snow, but to no avail. At this rate, you were going to be devoured. It was so cold. You were so tired. Perhaps it would be alright to give into a kiss of death. You were alone and lost in the woods, searching for an exit aimlessly. The night creatures inched towards you with precise steps. There were three of them– three ghastly beasts fueled by hunger.  One of them appeared to be the alpha, leading the others towards you. You closed your eyes as it pounced onto you, sinking its jaws onto your calves. The snow was terribly warm. It was almost cozy. You cried into it like a child would into a mother’s sleeve.

Thunder clapped and the night wailed. A flash of green flames illuminated the sky and disappeared as fast as it came. Your legs felt less heavy. Then, the numbness in your leg faded. You groaned. Was that it? Had you perished so soon? 

“Are you lost, little lamb?” a voice cooed.

From the corner of your eye, you saw a figure painted in black from head to toe crouch before you. You felt cold, but it quickly faded as you felt them scoop you up into their arms. You gazed at the ground. They were quite tall or so it would seem. Their warmth differed greatly from the snow’s.

You opened your eyes drowsily, meeting your gaze with your savior. Your senses were hazy, but you were certain that snow was not an ethereal being with long ebony locks, brilliant viridian eyes or sleek horns. Perhaps this being was your guardian angel. Or the devil? Angels didn’t don black cloaks, but he resembled one in every way. Divine. Absolutely divine,

You mewled and hugged him a little tighter, darkness engulfing your consciousness.

There was a bright light. You blinked twice. This was not the afterlife at. Or at least not what you imagined it would be. You thought it would be more extravagant than the interior of a gothic castle. It seemed dull– gray, somber. The candelabras were lit with viridescent flames, adding an eerie and unsettling aura to the bedroom. You sat up, wincing. You felt a small prick against your calves.

You lifted the covers to reveal your leg. It was bandaged neatly and elevated on a small throw pillow. Your eyes drifted to your clothing. In exchange for your cloak and travelling ensemble, you wore an oversized silk dress shirt. The hem barely covered your knees while its sleeves extended to your thighs. It was comfortable nonetheless.

“You’re awake.”

You were alive.

You hugged your legs and nodded sheepishly. There he was, an angel. Your savior set down a tray at the nightstand.

You stared into his eyes. Though you were certain that this was not in the afterlife, this man was an angel. No doubt about it. His presence said it all. It radiated power. He was ethereal. He had long ebony locks and porcelain skin. His eyes were akin to emeralds. He stood tall, towering over you with his arms crossed and a faint pout evident on his lips.

“Well, Child of Man?”

You broke eye contact.

“Child of Man,” he said.

“Hmm?”

“Perhaps you would regain your focus if you help yourself to some hazelnut soup,” he gestured to the tray.

You peered over his figure to examine the foodstuff. He saved you, treated your wounds, and now he offers to feed you. Truly, he was a seraph.

What could you possibly do to repay him? Did he desire compensation? Although you were hungry, guilt swelled in the back of your mind.

“It’s edible. The fair folk have a reputation for being terrible cooks, but I assure you that the fire fairies in my castle are well immersed in human cuisine,” he said.

“Fae?”

“My, you /are/ a lost little lamb, aren’t you?”

“I don’t follow.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Wonderland. A forest.”

“Anything else?”

“The White Rabbit said something about a tea party,” you said.

He straightened his posture and bowed.

“So you are the Hatter’s guest. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. One moment please. I won’t be long. Help yourself to the soup in the meantime. I know the fire pixies won’t be pleased if you let it grow cold,” he said, walking out of the room.

Hatter? Fire pixies?

His footsteps echoed throughout the hall. You stared at the tray. Alongside the ceramic bowl, there was a small dinner roll, a side salad, and a cup of tea. You clutched your stomach as it growled.

You swung your legs over the mattress and let them dangle off the bed. Your eyes trailed down to the ornate carpet. You were famished. The man did tell you to eat. It would be rude not to comply with his request after he nursed you back to health.

You bit your lip as you reached for the tray, setting the cool metal surface onto your lap. You took the spoon and raised it to your lips, blowing the ribbons of smoke away as if you were making a dandelion wish. You wrapped your lips around the utensil, taking in the soup’s warmth. It was rich, sweet, and  creamy with an earthy undertone. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Not bad, I presume?” your savior chuckled.

You flinched. He had returned.

He received a hum of affirmation in response. With that, he pulled a wooden chair from the bedroom’s study area and placed it beside the bed, directly in front of you. He sat down, crossing his legs. He opened up a leatherbound book, raising an eyebrow at you. You nervously grinned and fiddled with your thumbs. It was a decent sized book, not too large, but not too small to be a novella either. It was worn and torn around the edges though its gold detailing on the spine was still prevalent.

He met your gaze then snapped his fingers. Your eyes widened as the tea cup on your tray multiplied into two and the contents changed from a murky green to a cozy brown. They then lifted themselves off the tray and waltzed in the air for a few moments before stopping on their own saucers at the nightstand.

“I heard chamomile tea calms the nerves… for humans, anyway. I do love the flavor of it as well. Would you like one lump or two?”

“Are you not human? And two please.”

He blinked. The sugar cubes sunk to the bottom of your cup.

“I am affiliated with the fair folk,” he said.

He waved his hand around, dismissing the fact that he had summoned another teacup along with matching saucers and sugar jar and changed the teas with the snap of his fingers. Having been in this wonderland for a while now, you were familiar with magic. The possibility of fair folk couldn’t be ruled out, but you had never considered much about their existence until now. Then again, you didn’t know what night creatures were either until recently.

“Who are you?”

“A fae who happens to live in these parts and nothing more,” he said.

“And nothing more… then do you have a name?”

“You may call me anything you’d like. I do not have a preference. Names are merely labels no?”

“I suppose so.”

“There once was a little beastie that called me Tsunotaro. You may call me that if you’d like.”

“Tsunotaro?”

“Yes, I’m quite fond of that name too. You remind me of them therefore I shall allow it.”

“Alright then.. Tsunotaro.”

The light in his eyes faltered. He turned past the title page.

“And what do I call you, lost little lamb?”

“(y/n),” you said curtly.

“(y/n)... I like that,” he whispered softly, “Well, then (y/n), welcome to the Tugley Woods. We are in the northern part of Wonderland. It’s a hub for mana which draws in a plethora of characters such as merfolk and beastmen. Are you familiar with mana? It’s essentially a life force used as a catalyst for magic.”

You hummed along to the inflections of his voice.

He continued: “Perhaps you encountered some paragons of mana on the way here. Or wherever your destination was. They’re troublesome bunches, really. They have their own territories. Anything that trespasses those borders is beyond my control, even as the Prince of Thorns, I—”

You fidgeted with the sheets, a minute action and yet the fae’s eyes peeled up from the book.

“Does the origin of the woods bore you?”

You shook your head, “Not at all. I’m just having difficulty visualizing the entire forest and the factions. It must be vast.”

The fae grinned. With a flick of his hand, he conjured green flames within a furnace, illuminating the side of your bed with a faint yet welcoming warmth.

He rose from his seat, edging the covers, ushering you aside as he climbed into the comforters. He shifted around. Once he was satisfied, he propped open the book, continuing on with your history lesson. There was a large map sprawled across the thin pages. The words were racked from Tsunotaro’s memories.

You leaned on his shoulder. He was oddly warm despite his pale, lifeless complexion. Tsunotaro’s voice soothed your soul, spelling away all your fears— no matter how grand or horrible they may be.

“The West is guarded by the beastmen. They aren’t aggressive when you cross borders, only when you mess with their prey. They congregate here due to their affinity towards the mana here.”

Malleus pointed at the map. His fingernail made the book sound hollow.

“This allows them to use their magic easily as the area’s terrain is filled with sand and earth magic despite being surrounded by trees. You could say the same for the merfolk in the East as well. Except that area consists of woodlands with a large loch in the middle. The loch is deeper than it seems. It leads to the Coral Sea, I believe. The ‘monsters’ —”

“Why must they be monsters?”

“Aside from their appearances, the beastmen and the merfolk are experiencing a mana drought as of now as a majority of the magical energy here has ceased over the years. The ley lines have been exhausted due to constant irrigation and migration of the forests’ inhabitants. Nowadays, they attack travelers, driven by their hunger and thirst for mana to strengthen their magic and sustain their own livelihoods. Aside from them, there’s also night creatures. Those were the wolves that attacked you on the first day. ”

“And what does that make you?”

“Certainly not a monster if that is what you were implying. The fae generate their own mana. In fact, this castle is fortified with mana spun on a single spinning wheel. This prevents attacks from the other night creatures,” he said.

“That does not make the others monsters if they were merely trying to survive.”

“Did they not attack you on your journey?”

“They did, but it was the wrong timing. Besides those were wolves, I’m sure the factions have their own reasons.”

“Touché, Beastie,” he said.

Tsunotaro glanced upward.

“Oho?”

“I suppose they all have their reasons. As you said, they might just be doing so for their survival. Though the fair folk could never empathize with them, we are typically not shackled by the limits of age nor are we familiar with death. We create our own mana and we seldom consume food for survival, only pleasure.”

“I see…”

You yawned. He placed a slender ribbon in between the worn pages of the book. It clapped into place as he set it on the nightstand.

“Perhaps I’ve said more than a beastie could handle. Nevermind that. The chamomile must finally be settling in on you.”

For a mere moment, his eyes flashed into silts and glowed. Your lids were heavy.

“Rest well, Beastie—  for you have a long journey ahead of you.”

He rose from his seat, striding towards the door. The candles’s flames extinguished as he walked past them.

“You too, Tsunotaro.”

The fae halted.

“Yes… thank you, Yu—,” he paused, “(y/n).”

He sighed.

“Thank you, (y/n)” he said.

[alittlebitgoofy]

stay gold - chapter one (taywhora)

here we go, chapter 1 proper, i’m really excited for where this is going, stay tuned for chapter 2 soon :)) thanks to @goodemornting for betaing ily babes ao3 link

Aurora hesitated at the entrance for a heartbeat or two, eyes bright. 

She’d worked on the outside as much as one could over a few days. The plants had come back to life startlingly quick, as if there was an influence perking them up after being starved of attention for so long. The colours stood out against the stone stairs that curled up to the shrine, vibrant and lambent. She found herself sitting on them often, wondering if the person she’d seen before would ever show themselves again. 

It had taken a week for Aurora to finally drum up the courage to stand at the door, ready to unlock it once more. She tried again with the tip of one of her arrows and struggled. They must have locked it tighter, clearly not wanting her in there. 

Tayce felt the familiar presence at her door once again. 

She watched discerningly as they fumbled with the lock, huffing in frustration as they failed to open it a second time. Good to know her magic had worked— she still felt a bit rusty in that regard. She’d tried to practise a few things to varying levels of success and scorned herself for not trying to refresh her skills sooner. 

The blonde girl finally got it to click open after a few more attempts, letting out an excited squeal at her victory. Tayce scoffed at the sound— mortals really were amused by the tiniest things. It was almost cute, that they’d feel so fulfilled at small success. Aurora wandered through the room quietly, eyeing up the pedestal and hesitantly grabbing something out of the bag she’d brought, which had been concealed by her cloak until she opened it. She placed down a loaf of bread gently, wondering if what she had read was actually true. The deity that lived there apparently loved any type of offering, especially food. She’d made some extra at work to attempt to please her, hoping it would serve as a way to tell if someone truly was watching her, though she’d have to come check the next day. 

Tayce eyed the stranger as she left, carefully relocking the door as she had the time prior. She only now focused on how rejuvenated the front of the shrine looked, peering at it’s appearance in veneration. The flowers were back to their former glory, the ivy tangled it’s way up the walls. The nature seemed to be in peace again, taken care of. Tayce hadn’t seen it like this in years.

Not since then. 

She shook the thought away quickly, focusing on the offering the little mortal had left. It looked good, clearly freshly made, wrapped in a little linen cloth to keep it safe. It was cute— the frequentor of her shrine had put in more effort than anyone had in a long time to please her without asking for anything in return. 

Maybe they still had some skill left in that old village, perhaps the baker was just talented at their craft.  Either way, the blonde had good taste. 

---

Aurora couldn’t stop thinking about the shrine.

It was as if something drew her there, like fate pulling her to something it deemed necessary. It didn’t make sense, no where else she had ever gone made her feel like this. She knew there had to be something inside— whether it be a spirit or a creature or even a person. Everything had convinced her there had to be someone in there, but every time she had visited she’d still received no answers. Aurora wondered why they were hiding, when she had done her best to prove her good intentions. Perhaps something had happened?

Maybe this aura was the one her books kept talking about— the legend of the guardian of their village. Maybe she did really exist, but Aurora couldn’t confirm it until they came face to face. It was all she wanted now, even if only for a split second. 

She came back the next day, noticing the cloth folded on the pedestal and the bread all gone, only tiny crumbs remaining. She took a deep breath— that was absolute, concrete proof. Someone had seen her, be they mortal or guardian. Someone was there. 

That was when she felt it, the eyes returning and watching every little move she made. It fell upon her so quickly, paralysing her as it felt like something kept creeping closer and she was powerless to stop it. They were invisible though Aurora could have sworn she heard the flap of some wings. Her head whipped around the room at a concerning speed, fear bubbling up as she couldn’t see a thing to point to company in there. 

The doors creaked, and with a flash of light, someone appeared in front of her. 

Aurora blinked up at the creature before her, mouth gaping in terror and awe. 

She’d never seen someone so ethereal. 

The creature’s skin sparkled in the light that flooded through the door frame, her wings fell at her side, so wide they didn’t fit in the doorway when stretched out. Her eyes held amusement as a small smirk played at her lips. 

Tayce grinned down at the elf, gaze sharp and challenging. This was the person who had been trying to get her attention and Tayce wouldn’t let her actions go unnoticed, even if the girl  was barely breathing in shock as she slowly approached. 

“So. Any explanation as to why you came here or would you like to forget everything you’ve seen?” Tayce’s smirk grew as her guest’s eyes widened. She forgot how easy it was to play with mortals, especially those who didn’t know of her existence. 

Aurora couldn’t find the words,  all of them stuck in her throat. She blinked back at the person in front of her, gawking.  Her mind was racing, clouded with all the mistakes she might make that might anger this mysterious deity. She’d been trespassing here, obviously, and the creature clearly wasn’t happy about that. Aurora wasn’t sure of the powers that she might possess, or what punishment might come her way.

“I’m just messing with you.” Tayce finally continued, brightening up as the girl's shoulders relaxed immediately. “You’ve been quite respectful, actually, so I thought I’d appear to, y’know, thank you. I’ve seen what you’ve been doing. Quite the makeover of the outside, it’s nice to see some effort put into it after all this time.” Tayce starred her down, taking time to take in her features. She seemed to relax after being spoken to, staring back in silence. 

Aurora tried to process it, that the person in front of her wasn’t angry but yet...thankful? It was confusing, it didn’t make sense with everything she’d read but she seemed so genuine if a little overbearing in her entrance that she couldn’t just shake it off. 

“Yeah.” She spoke quietly, still in awe of the creature in front of her. Anything intricate couldn't get let out as Aurora could only stare at the person in front of her. “You’re… welcome?”

“You don’t need to be scared, if I was going to hurt you I wouldn't have waited so long.” Tayce quipped, glad to see the way the blonde’s lips curled up at the comment. She seemed to relax a bit, the fear in her eyes replaced by a more vibrant curiosity. 

“So what’s your name? The plaque over there is too old to make out a lot of it, though I don’t know if it was intentionally scratched out, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s not important really.” The blonde rambled, feeling the strong gaze of Tayce looking over her though powering through to at least utter a sentence at a reasonable volume. Something about her was enchanting, if not a bit unnerving. She felt powerful even from just standing in front of her. Though her beauty was what really left her shaken, how could she be so effervescent? Maybe this was why people worshipped her in the past. Tayce paused, wondering if she trusted this random mortal enough to allow her in further than an object of her amusement, someone she could get to know. Sure, she seemed decently kind and had no ill will towards her, but she hasn’t gotten this close to someone in a while. Her eyes were too kind, clearly excited under the nerves to meet someone she thought to only be a legend. What would it hurt, humouring her for a bit. She’d surely get bored soon enough but a bit of entertainment sounded like fun.

“My name is Tayce, and yours?” The brunette held eye contact with the smaller elf, repressing a smirk at how she seems to shrink at the prolonged staring. Mortals were funny things, stare at them enough and they’d cower away.

“Aurora.” She managed to get a small word out, eyes staying fixed on Tayce as the deity  moved closer and outstretched her arm. “Your kind still does this, right? It’s polite?” “Yeah, people still shake hands. It’s a bit formal but definitely polite.” Aurora failed to stifle a slight laugh, how could someone so intimidating question the customs of the people she lived so close to.  

Tayce’s expression hardened, not sure how to react to her. She hadn’t been in the company of a mortal in years, but she didn’t remember them being like this at all. It had been too long, maybe the girl was just a bit peculiar. She didn’t mean any rudeness by it, more amusement than anything. Tayce could feel her, calmer than anyone who had ever stood before her. She needed to know more. 

“Why are you here?” Tayce cocked her head to the side ever so slightly, curiosity in her tone, careful not to scare off her new companion. 

“I was, I don’t know, curious? I’ve heard and read a lot about the guardian of our village but no one’s heard anything from them in over a century. I wanted to know, people act like you never existed but there was too much evidence someone was here at some point.” Aurora  spoke honestly, trying to ignore the chilling feeling she got when Tayce’s eyes stayed on her for too long. She didn’t mean it, but their height difference combined with the intensity her eyes held at the first glance left a lasting impression. 

“They’ve forgotten about me, have they? Can’t say i’m surprised, they moved on. Don’t need me anymore. It’s a bit sad, though I'm glad to see everything still thriving.” Tayce felt her stomach drop at the revelation, though she masked it behind a poker face. It was inevitable her lack of appearance would affect the place she called home but for them all to just think she was a figment of folklore, it stung more than she thought it would. So thus, it was quite confusing that Aurora, who appeared to be a run of the mill mortal, thought so differently. Tayce wondered if she had gotten her hands on any books about her, maybe, or some rotting old elder had blathered on about her existence enough that Aurora just had to come see if the myths were true. It was almost embarrassing to know that someone was so invested in her existence, if she was honest. Just your run of the mill immortal deity. 

Ah. that would be weird to most mortals, her existence seemed to always cause shock. It was getting old… 

Aurora wasn’t sure how to respond. She could sense the sadness in the brunette's tone but felt it wasn’t her place to pry. She’d been far too lucky to make it this far, seemingly having earnt at least a small amount of trust from someone who could easily end her with a flick or her wrist. 

“I’m glad I could meet you.” She managed out, barely able to speak as Tayce absentmindedly flexed her wings, showing how large her wingspan was when unfurled. They were majestic, though hidden by her side as after she stretched them out.

“You like my wings?” Tayce raised an eyebrow, delighting in the way Aurora’s face flushed as her staring was caught out. 

“They’re so majestic, really. You’re… you’re breathtaking.” She spoke her thoughts aloud, wondering why Tayce seemed taken aback by the comment before realising what she had said. Right now would be a good time for her memory to be wiped, not remembering the turn this interaction took because she couldn’t keep her own mouth shut and ended up in conversation with someone who probably saw her as insignificant. 

Tayce watched with curiosity at the way the blonde seemed consumed by embarrassment at blindly blurting her thoughts. She was amused, holding back a laugh at how the tips of her ears turned pink. Poor thing didn’t need to be laughed at right now, she was already mortified enough for one day. 

She liked this one, Aurora had a lot of charm, she was sweet. Despite being clearly out of her depth she’d tried her best to converse, it was entertaining watching her fumble through trying to figure out how to treat Tayce. 

“I like you, actually. Though you’re a bit of an odd one, aren’t you?” Tayce laughed, watching over the elf carefully for her reaction. She hoped she could take a bit of a prod, it would make things much more humorous. 

Aurora was taken aback at that, blinking up at the deity skeptically. She couldn’t fathom how something with such an all-encompassing, magical presence could feel anything similar to fondness for her, even if she appreciated it. This made no sense, she was much kinder than the stories said. She seemed like a normal person if not for the huge wings and her sheer height that would dwarf anyone she knew. 

Then she caught on to the end of that statement, a joke very much at her expense but one she couldn’t really deny. She had picked a lock into some type of ground that she didn’t know wasn’t sacred and offered the creature bread with no idea if she was even there. “You say this as the one with huge wings.” She huffed in mock annoyance, chest tightening at the laugh Tayce let out. It was a heavenly sound, she ached to make her laugh more, get to know the intricacies of her, though it was a bit early to pry. 

“Excuse you! My wings are majestic are they not?”

Aurora hesitated, flustered at the reference of her previous comment. She couldn’t win against  Tayce, could she? “Yeah, but they do make you stand out.” She stated simply, feeling her insides warm once more to get a laugh out of her new found friend. “Bit blunt too, you’re a fun one.” Tayce spoke to her fondly, like her friends did when making fun of something impulsive she had done. It felt different, Tayce's eyes pierced through her soul and yet she seemed amused by all of her little comments and quirks. 

There was a mutual air of intrigue, a natural back and forth while still being a bit reserved. Tayce confirmed her intentions, pure if not a bit dangerous. She had made sure to encourage more visits, though Aurora expected her bread may have sweetened her up every so slightly.

Either way, Tayce was fond of her and that put her on cloud nine, all she wanted was to make her laugh again. 

[kosmosguk]

upcoming works | sneak peeks

to make up for the lack of posting for the past 2 weeks, here are snippets (in no particular order) of the beginnings of the ROUGH and very UNEDITED/incomplete drafts of upcoming fics that I’ve been working on while I’ve been gone to get you guys excited for the future schedule <3 ty for nearly 1.9k followers. All works, unless specified, are MATURE. 

if you guys are interested in a particular work, tell me about it and the ones that are more popular--as I will have more motivation to write them--will get finished faster!

a millennium of red strings | fox demon jungkook x reader 

Summary: a thousand years ago, jungkook and you were lovers in a world nearly destroyed by national strife. a millennium ago, jungkook held your dead body in his arms, powerless and unable to stop you from taking your last breath, and a millennium ago, jungkook sacrificed one of his tails for another chance for your reincarnation. A thousand years later, jungkook’s wish for your life is finally fulfilled by the god of destiny, but this time, jungkook, with hands stained by human hearts and a hunger for power, is no longer the wide-eyed adolescent boy with too many hopes to be fulfilled and too many weaknesses that you fell in love with. And this time, a millennium and a thousand human hearts later, he’ll go to drastic lengths to ensure that harm will never come your way.

You reached out a finger outside of your window to stroke the petals of the peonies your brother had planted you before he had left for war. He said that when he came back, he would buy you new clothes embroidered with blooming red peonies. Your fingers touched wet coarse fabric instead of the delicate soft petals you were expecting. Your mouth opened in a scream as you launched your body back in alarm, but a cold hand firmly clamped itself over your mouth as the figure in front of your window launched into your room and pushed you to the ground. The window shut behind the figure with a firm clack.

“Don’t say anything. If you do, I’ll claw your heart out and eat it, human.’’

The voice that spoke was the voice of a young man. You tried to push him off of you when your hands brushed against something soft and furry—was it an animal’s ears? You swallowed the gasp that threatened to bubble up in your throat and paused in your struggling when you heard sounds coming from outside.

You heard footsteps slap against the mud outside of your room, and you clamped your eyes shut. Something in your gut told you that whoever was outside would do much more damage to you than the demon currently in your room.

Several minutes after the sound of footsteps stopped, the demon pushed you away. You frantically got up to your feet, trying to remember your mother’s words when it came to demons. They were scared of light; you had to get to your candle. You grabbed onto it, splashing hot wax onto your hands in your hurry, to brandish at the strange fox demon.

Your mouth fell open at the sight. The gumiho was…beautiful? In the faint light of the candle, you could clearly see his features, especially since his hood had fallen off in the middle of your earlier struggle. He had wide doe-eyes, like an innocent animal, and pretty features that were on the brink of developing into a surely extremely handsome face. His figure was lanky from what you could see of him underneath the thick red cloak he was wearing. He reminded you of the men depicted in ink paintings of mythology where demons would come down and take the form of beautiful human beings to suck the energy from humans and eat their flesh.

You realized he was looking at you weirdly, and your cheeks burned as you realized that you had called him beautiful out loud without thinking.

“You’re not…scary?’’ the fox demon in front of you spoke.

You pointed at yourself.

“Aren’t you a gumiho?’’ you knew you were speaking crudely, but he was trespassing into your room. “What do you mean I’m scary? If anything, I should be the one terrified of you! I’m the human here!’’

The gumiho blinked his pretty eyes at you in surprise, his mouth opening to say something before you interrupted him, speaking rapidly in hopes that he wouldn’t find his next meal in you.

“I saved you by letting you into my room, so you can’t kill me, gumiho! Killing your savior would be a crime punishable by heaven. I don’t taste good anyways, I bet; I probably taste like mud and bitter herbs, so don’t even think about it!’’

The fox demon laughed, the sound clear and youthful. You were an amusing human being, weren’t you?

“I agree with you. I don’t feel like you’d make a good meal anyways. I suppose the heavens will punish me if I eat my savior, so I promise to not eat you. In exchange for saving me, I’ll give you my name. I’m Jungkook. If you have a wish, tell me it, and I’ll see if I can grant it’’

“Jungkook,’’ you beamed in relief at having your life for another night, and, without thinking clearly, you put out your hand for him to shake.

“I’ll tell you my name since you promised not to eat me. I’m (y/n). You better not forget it! I’d want you to save my brother, but you look young for a demon and not powerful, so while I’m waiting for my brother to come home, you should come visit me often.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his ears flicking in confusion. Your wish…You really were an interesting human being. He almost made a fuss at you calling him not powerful; he was stronger than humans, for sure, but something kept him from saying that aloud. Some strange part of him didn’t want to scare you. He reached out anyways, clasping his hand around your softer and smaller one. Your hand was really warm; he almost didn’t want to let go. And you seemed nice, too, unlike the humans his master often told him of who were greedy and didn’t deserve the hearts they were bestowed with. Perhaps some part of him wanted to spend time with you.

He had to leave though; with a nod of goodbye and a twitch of an ear, Jungkook disappeared into the rain in which he had emerged from.

You couldn’t help but think to yourself: you really were a fool to ask a demon to come spend time with you. Why did your mouth never comply with what you really thought? You jutted out your lip in frustration, though the slight hint of joy touched your heart at the thought of company.

lineage 2 | duke yoongi x princess reader 

Summary:  When an engagement locks you, the 8th and forgotten princess, to the duke infamous for his cruelty, you find yourself counting the days until your inevitable death. It’s terrifying to think of your end, but when you arrive at his territory, you realize there’s a more morbid reason behind your marriage, and that the duke is much worse than the rumors have painted him out to be.

You were dreaming, at least that’s what it felt like to you. Some part of your mind knew that this was simply too vivid to be merely a dream, too real to simply be a figment of imagination spurred by an anxious mind. But you had never experienced this moment. You had no memories of this kind.

Flashes of someone’s life blinked in front of you, but the strange thing was, you were that someone. You were in their body; the skin and bones and flesh that made up them were also the same that made up you. The flashes stopped, blending colors stilling to spill a stark image onto a blank canvas as a particular memory unfolded before your eyes. You could feel the breeze of a summer’s day drift through strands of your hair, hear the soft whispering of the trees and the giggling of little fairies dancing in the wind and on your bare shoulders and arms. Their feet tapped against your skin in the giddiness of a rapid dance, the ticklish feeling causing you to let out a careless giggle as you swayed with them.

“The earth is singing. It coos and breathes and exhales its own melody,’’ the you in the dream spoke airily,’’ I can feel the song of nature in me, my child’s first breath, though that may sound quite trite to many.’’

It seemed like you were talking to yourself, or maybe even the fairies still dancing around and on you. That is, until dream you lifted your head towards another direction that you had been previously facing. The fairies all screeched before falling quiet, a silence so ominous and different compared to their previous activeness, and you could no longer feel their small feet lightly itching your skin. The air seemed to cool, the shifting from a summer’s day to a winter’s night.

“Well, I suppose you’re the only one who doesn’t find me so strange. I’m surprised you haven’t gone running from the first sight of the me behind the façade I put on before the Council. You either want what runs in my veins or…you must truly love me. Isn’t that right, Yoongi?’’

Arms wrapped around your body, and you could feel the weight of someone’s head on your shoulder. That someone pressed a soft kiss against your delicate neck before laughing hoarsely against your skin, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine. The voice was familiar. Yoongi? But why was he here? You had no control over your actions, however, trapped in the body of this someone who only giggled elatedly and maneuvered her body closer to the man.

“I can never go against you, can I? You know it’s the latter choice. My goddess…you are truly my—.”

His voice cut off, but you could feel his mouth still moving against your neck to form the last word. The dream was crumbling before you. You could feel the last sensations of the mirage you were experiencing dissipating into thin air, cracking into small bits and pieces.

As you woke up, the word he had mouthed lingered in your mind before fading like your dream had.

Obsession.

bloody artistry | celebrity taehyung x journalist reader 

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the both of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind sobering up as you realized who the man next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

‘‘Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed a coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features increasing in beauty from the grin.

You remembered Jungkook’s words and a chill ran up your spine, causing goosebumps to rise up on your skin and freezing you to the bar table. God, were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly, trying to calm your racing heartbeat. The reckless journalist in you wanted to take a leap of faith at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

‘‘Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,” your lips twitched as you forced them into a convincingly gentle smile, refusing his offer softly and moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Drinking drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked less nervous than you really felt and a hell of a lot convincing because Taehyung’s stiff shoulders seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam to his eyes when he pushed his body near yours and whispered softly into your ears.

‘‘If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a little bit?”

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience meal ramen you had scarfed before coming to the bar all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive looking clothes. You could feel the sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused their sharp eyes on their weaker body.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung. “No thanks, I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a polite smile before you headed over to the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of the run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the lingering scent of your perfume, a smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form, even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view.

divinity | god taehyung x demon reader 

Summary: it’s a classic tale: two lovers from two different worlds united by the red string of fate only to be tragically severed by their worlds. but for taehyung, who’s lived thousands of years as the high god of beauty and the arts, a classic tale will forever remain a classic tale. well, that is until he finds one of the injured from the enemy forces in his realm, and he can’t help but desire the perfect happy ending to a classic tale with you, even if it means forcing apart the barricade of tragedy that separates you from him.

Taehyung traced the swirls of ivory and scatters of porcelain in the white marble table mindlessly, his eyes barely focused on the scenery in front of his eyes. The warmth of Heaven’s sun soaked into the soft white cloth of his tunic and into his skin, and a cool breeze ruffled his soft pale locks, sending wisps of thin strands to frame his beautiful face. The sight of him looking so ethereal would’ve inspired mortal artwork had he not been alone.

All was peaceful in his realm, with not even a servant to flit nearby the pensive god; it was much too peaceful. Peace, after centuries of war with the demon clan, was not a fortune that was often bestowed upon Taehyung. Although he was the god of beauty and art, his rank as a high god forced him to take a large role in the war. It wasn’t until today that he was given a break to go rest at his home after Jungkook, the god of war, returned back to base after winning a bloody victory against one of the demon clan’s more powerful forces. 

But peace never lasted long when one was in the middle of a war, not in the mortal world and certainly not up in the heavens.

Taehyung knew something was off in his realm. He could feel it, the warning of a trespasser humming underneath his skull and throbbing in the tips of his fingers. 

Was it a rouge fairy? Maybe even one of his own? Or was it an enemy?

There was no one else in his realm with him besides lower-level fairies to act as his servants, everyone else having been forced away to the king’s realm in order to give Taehyung a much-needed break from the worries and chaos of war. The servants would be unable to fight off an intruder if they were high-level enough, but Taehyung knew that the barriers he had erected around his realm when he was at the height of power would hold steadfast against most high-level demons, or any beings that had desire to harm him, or at least stave them off long enough for reinforcements to come.

Taehyung quickly pushed himself up from his seat when he heard a crackle of gravel and stone underfoot. How did the enemy manage to get past his barriers so quickly? That was impossible. 

He slowly walked over, his footsteps silent against the ground, to the bush where he had heard the soft sounds of rustling come from, and the heavy odor of spilled blood invaded his sense of smell. 

There was a figure on the ground, blood dripping from a torn hole in their dark attire and staining the gravel the body was limply laying on. Taehyung stood their silently, his eyes unblinking, before the figure rolled over to face him, their body sagging as they finally lifted up their head, the hood of their clothes covering their features from Taehyung’s gaze.

‘‘Help me,” they croaked out desperately.

yandere bts world | seokjin x reader 

Summary:  [ENTERING KIM SEOKJIN’S ROUTE: CHECK IN...TO MY HEART!] Kim Seokjin, a hotel intern with dreams of being a top-class hotelier, finds a golden opportunity to fulfill his dream when he is forced to watch over a VIP customer’s difficult child. You, now as a pastry chef for the hotel’s kitchen, showing up should’ve just boosted his journey to fulfilling his dream, but each choice you make seems to lead you further away from the dreamy perfect ending and closer to a particularly bad ending. 

You could tell who it was right away. With his breathtakingly handsome features and heart-shaped lips parted slightly, Kim Seokjin lived up to the looks he frequently boasted about on the videos you spent hours watching. But he wasn’t on the other end of a screen anymore, glass and plastic against your thumb, he was here, real and in the flesh. But you could tell, with his dye-free hair and butler-like suit, that the Seokjin before you was not the Jin that you knew before the game started.

‘‘Kim Seokjin?’‘

The words came out of your mouth before you could stop them properly. You grew flustered, trying to think of an excuse that could make up explaining to the man before you exactly how you, a complete stranger, knew his name, before realizing just how still your surroundings were.

[You are about to enter Seokjin’s route for YBW. Click YES or NO before starting for confirmation. After clicking YES, there is no restarting.]

You could barely stop your hands from trembling as you reached up and pressed the sparkling YES.

The word did a little spin, twinkling in an eye-catching way before disappearing.

A set of instructions popped up.

[INSTRUCTIONS: You are now in a world where BTS is not BTS. To win hearts and boost your romance gauge for Seokjin’s GOOD ENDING, be careful about the choices you make throughout the game. Choices will pop up frequently during your interaction with Seokjin. There will be no going back once you have started playing, and once you have pressed a choice, you can not choose another. Be warned: BAD CHOICES END WITH A BAD ENDING, in which DEATH occurs. Press CONTINUE.]

You stiffened when you read the second to last line. You knew that this world wasn’t your world, and you had somehow managed to maintain a mild state of calmness, but the warning jostled your sense of fear and caused panic to rise up in your throat. You wanted it to be a lie, but when you squeezed your eyes shut and pinched yourself hard enough to leave a bruise, hoping to wake up in your bed, your hopes were dashed as you opened your eyes up to the same opaque white screen.

You suddenly didn’t want to play the game anymore.

You thought of making a run for it, but the game, as if sensing your thoughts, popped up with another screen.

[Please press CONTINUE. Failure to do so will be quitting the game, which will immediately result in the BAD ENDING.]

[possiamo-andare]

Jealous (JJ Maybank)

JJ x Peach (secret santa)

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this is for @dreamypeaches who is the sweetest gal ever! I was so lucky to get her for my secret santa, organzied by @ijustreallylovethem . I hope you don’t mind I put your name as Peaches and I hope you like this story. I’ve always wanted to write something like this and what better time than the present? 

summary: JJ gets a little jealous at the Midsummer festival, finally confessing his feelings for you

~

Your feelings for JJ were clear on the night of the Midsummer festival. Before then, you always had an inclining that your feelings for him went before platonic, but you never truly accepted them until that night. Of course, there were the occasional times where he held your hand and you felt as though you might faint, or when he winked at you and your hair would stand up on the back of your neck but you had written off all of those feelings as just a coincidence. Only when you attended the Midsummer festival, did you finally realize that you were lying to yourself.

To say you attended the Midsummer festival would be a lie. More like you and JJ snuck in, pretending to be servers, to try and help John B. get a note to Sarah. JJ, although he refused to admit it, was nervous to go by himself considering Rafe and his goons had beaten him up only days earlier. He felt safer if you were beside him so you did what you always did, and protected JJ.

“Coast clear?” JJ looks at you, a goofy grin on his lips.

You poke your head around the corner, spotting Sarah and her white dress almost immediately. She’s dancing with a little girl, probably a relative, a sweet smile on her lips. You frown. Although Sarah is a kook, that’s not what upsets you. She was Kiara’s friend before she betrayed Kie and although Kie had forgiven her, you are still reluctant to do so.

“Peach?” JJ whispers, causing you to turn your attention back to him. When you both make eye contact, he raises his brows and you nod, realizing you never even answered your question. JJ nods back to you, straightening his back before taking a deep breath and walking past you.

JJ’s confidence always astounds you. He walks into every room as if he’s supposed to be there, even when he isn’t. And most times, he isn’t. Just like now. While you’re nervous beyond belief that you’re trespassing, JJ pretends flawlessly that he’s done nothing wrong.

“JJ,” You whisper and you quicken your pace and follow in step beside him. You think you must look so nervous compared to him but all he can think of is how beautiful you look. “Are you just gonna walk up to her?”

JJ smirks, stopping beside the punch table, his eyes on Sarah as he speaks to you. “What do you want me to do? Throw the friggin’ thing her way and hope it lands on her head?”

You roll your eyes at his attempt to joke and shrug, scanning the party for Rafe and his goons. The last thing you wanted was Rafe spotting you and JJ and giving you a hard time before JJ was even given a chance to deliver this note to Sarah. 

“Don’t worry,” JJ finally takes his eyes off Sarah and looks at you. “I’ll be quick. Stay here.” And before you protest any further, he is off and walking towards Sarah in the middle of the dance floor.

You watch JJ approach Sarah, dancing terribly as he taps her shoulder. They have a quick exchange before he hands her the note, his dance moves only progressively getting worse. A small bile rises in your throat and you think you might throw up from the jealousy boiling in your stomach. You never were the jealous type, even with your other partners, but JJ was neither your partner or someone you thought you had feelings for. Now, as you watched Sarah laugh at something he said, you wished he was still beside you. You wished he never spoke to Sarah. You wish you could just sort your feelings out for him and move on. But you doubted you could ever move on from someone like JJ Maybank.

You had been so preoccupied with your jealousy, you failed to see Rafe approach you at the punch table with his goons. Once you realized who was standing beside you, it was too late to run. You’d have to face Rafe head on, as scary as that was for you. 

“Excuse me, can you fill my drink for me?” Rafe chuckled, clearly making fun of the fact that you were a server and he was not. Rafe would do anything to the Pogues in OBX to remind them that they were beneath him. 

You try to play along and distract him from realizing JJ was talking to his girlfriend. “What would you like?”

Rafe looks at the assortment of drinks on the table beside you and smirks as his eyes land on a bottle of Brandy. “That.” He points to the bottle with one hand and hands his cup to you with the other.

You roll your eyes. “Can I see some identification?”

Rafe snorts. “This is my dad��s party. I’m basically your boss. You’re gonna really ID the boss?”

You nod, holding your head up high. “Yeah, especially if the boss is a teenager.”

You can tell your defiance only fuels his arrogance. He takes a step closer to you and you now can smell the alcohol wading off his breath. He’s obviously drunk and it’s not only his breath giving it away. He’s sweating like a pig and his pupils are dilated. If you didn’t know any better, you think he’s high too.

“Do what I say or else you’re fired, dirty Pogue.” Rafe is so angry now that he spits on you as he speaks.

You smirk, handing his glass back to him. “Go someone else for your fix, jackass.”

You didn’t expect him to touch you, no matter how hard you pushed him but clearly Rafe had changed in some way since you last had interacted with him. He didn’t even bother saying anything before he reached up and grabbed ahold of your wrist. You could tell he was trying to squeeze as hard as he could but, as much as it hurt, he was not sober enough to do enough damage. Although this was true and you knew the pain could be worse if he was sober, it still hurt.

“Let go of me.” You gritted through your teeth, trying not to show that he was hurting you. The last thing you wanted to show Rafe was your weakness.

“Listen here -” Rafe began a lecture but before he could get through the entire speech, he was cut off by JJ.

JJ had not noticed what was going on at first. He was too busy telling Sarah the instructions JB had carefully told him. Only when he was done his conversation with Sarah and turned his attention back in your direction, did he realize how handsy Rafe had gotten with you since the last time he looked your way. He would have let you handle the situation yourself, if Rafe had not grabbed you. You were smart and could talk your way out of almost any situation and that was one of the many things JJ loved about you, but the second anyone touched you, JJ would always defend you, even if you could beat them up yourself. He loved you so much and although he was afraid to admit it, he made it his mission to indirectly tell you through his actions.

So, when he saw Rafe grab a hold of your wrist and watched as you winced slightly in pain, rage filled JJ and he didn’t hesitate as he ran towards you and Rafe, throwing him forward and onto Rafe. Since Rafe was intoxicated, he went down fairly easing, bringing the table down with him. JJ didn’t care though and he ignored the punch spill on both him and Rafe as he grabbed him by the collar and started punching him. The past week, Rafe had almost gotten Pope arrested, beat up his friend, made JJ’s life a living hell and hurt the girl he loves. JJ tried to channel all of that anger into his fists, punching him over and over again. Only after the fifth punch, did JJ stop. Not voluntarily though. One of Rafe’s friends roughly pulled JJ off the intoxicated Rafe, too drunk to fight back, while Rafe’s other friend held you back from defending JJ. 

You tried to kick him off you but he was stronger and wouldn’t let you go. You weren’t sure what happened to JJ. You never saw him quite like that. He had always had some temper, especially when it came to Rafe but he had never been like that. It almost scared you.

In one last act to try and free yourself, you quickly swung your leg backwards, your heel coming in contact with the guy’s knee. He yelped in pain and that gave you just enough time to break free of his grasp and help JJ. You ran to JJ, watching as he was wrestling with one of Rafe’s other friends. With your last ounce of strength, you pushed the guy off JJ and watched as he fell to the ground. Without even speaking to JJ, afraid that would take up too much time, you pulled on his hand, leading him off the back porch and onto the beach beside Sarah’s house. The sand crumbled under your shoes and slowed you down but you pushed forward, your hand gripping onto JJ’s. You never let go. Too scared that if you did, you didn’t have the strength to move forward.

When you finally reached the dock, far enough away to know Rafe was not close, you let go of JJ’s hand and stopped running. Your legs were on fire and your breaths were laboured. You bent down and rested your hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath. Although you were not amused, JJ seemed to be. Before you even had a chance to catch your breath, you could hear JJ laughing. He seemed out of breath too but it didn’t stop him from making a joke out of this situation. If the circumstances were different, maybe you would be laughing too but JJ had caused so much trouble tonight that your anger now turned towards him. If he acted with his brain and not her temper, then you both wouldn’t be in this situation. For the first time, you were angry at JJ.

Before he could laugh anymore, you straightened back up and lunged at him, pushing him backwards. He instantly stopped laughing, stumbling a little before standing up straight again. You lunged again but this time JJ was ready and he blocked you by holding onto your hands. 

“What the hell, Peach!” JJ yelled, confusion written across his face.

You struggled against his grip, grunting as you did. “What the hell?” You mimic JJ’s voice, finally breaking free from JJ’s grasp. “You attacked Rafe.”

JJ rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “That guy was manhandling you and you’re upset with me?”

You scoff. “You didn’t help by escalating the situation! I had it handled.”

This time JJ scoffed, clearly making fun of you. “Sure seemed like it with Rafe’s grimey hands all over you.”

“Seriously? Do you think I can’t take care of myself?”

JJ doesn’t answer and you know what he’s thinking.

You were stunned. You always thought JJ trusted you but apparently not. Never had JJ expressed this type of jealousy. You were angry beyond belief but there was a small part of you that actually liked the fact that he cared so much about you. You pushed this down though and continued to be angry with him.

JJ could tell he struck a nerve and the second he said it, he wished he could take it back. He tried to walk forward, tried to comfort you and apologize but you only stepped further back. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “Why?” Your eyes glistened over and you felt a tear fall down your cheek. “Why?”

JJ loosens the buttons on his collar. He’s sweating like a pig and he knows he is seconds away from confessing. When he looks into your eyes, it gives him the final push to say what he’s always wanted to say. “I love you.”

You freeze and, at first, you think you had misheard him. “As a friend?” 

JJ chuckles, finally stepping forward and reaching up to cup your face. This time you’re too shocked to step back. You’re finally realizing that maybe all of those feelings were not a coincidence and you loved JJ since you first saw him, all of those years ago.

“No,” JJ smiles, his soothing voice just above a whisper. “Not as a friend.”

You leaned your head forward, not even realizing you wanted to kiss him. JJ closed the gap between your lips and you knew, the second his lips touched yours, that this was just the beginning. And it all started with jealousy.

[ms-interpretation]

Lee Gon’s and Jeong Tae-eul’s choice of each other (fate and future) (Part 2)

The question of ‘imbalance’

Lady Noh being from the Republic is an important reveal, as other’s have pointed out, as it shows that there is nothing wrong with living in another universe. There are no actual instances of imbalance being an issue during the show. Expect when your doppelganger is killed by someone from the other world. The show heavily implies that it is Fate and/or the Flute which is marking the people responsible for such a trespass with the lightning scars. I.e the lightning scars are the marks of someone trespassing on Fate’s domain and/or abusing the Flute’s power. It is a physical manifestation/reminder to Lee Gon that Lee Lim must be stopped and his actions ‘undone’. Alternatively it simply means that the death of Lee Ji-hun is wrong and must be remedied, LG’s scar (and in that case the others’) being the physical manifestation of this ‘wrong’. There is importantly no scars or signs of cosmic imbalance implying there being anything wrong with Jeong Tae-eul during either of her two visits to the Kingdom. During her first visit she inhabits the Kingdom at the same time as Luna and during the second they have switched places. There are no signs of anything being wrong or imbalanced at either time (or even when Tae-eul and Luna are in the Republic at the same time). In addition if imbalance and simply using the Manpasikjeok was wrong then Prince Buyeong would have been brought back after the reset. He however stays dead, why? Because he was destined to die (i.e his death was not a trespass on Fate’s domain). Lee Lim’s lightning mark probably comes from him murdering his own doppelganger, which is a trespass on Fate’s domain. How do I know that? Because Lee Lim’s doppelganger is back and alive in episode 16. We also have a scene showing that Lee Lim gets his underlings to kill their own doppelgangers, which explains why so many of them have scars. However, as in the case of Lee Gon, Lee Lim’s second in command man also suffers from lightning scars despite not being the one to kill his own doppelganger. This is because the doppelganger was killed ‘wrongly’ and not when he should have as according to Fate and his doppelganger gets to (as Lee Gon) carry the sign of this wrong. Lee Lim’s interference and abuse of the Manpasikjeok has messed up the worlds so much that the timeline needs to be canceled. All of this is actually important because if the drama had wanted to show that things have to be balanced it would’ve had to actually show it in some way. The writer does a lot of ‘showing not telling’ and plants red herrings (the fear of imbalance is one) regarding the obstacles facing the characters. The characters being worried about it is not evidence in itself, especially not in light of the Lady Noh reveal. There’s also no reason to believe that her counterpart wasn’t alive when she moved to the Kingdom. Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul are also shown as not being worried about imbalance anymore in the last episode. In episode 13 we even have Lady Noh asking Jeong Tae-eul to take care of Lee Gon, knowing that there is no potential issue of imbalance.  

(A side note: I am again marking other meta I’m referencing with * and **. You can find them both linked at the end of this post. It’s a great blog, would recommend)

So what might Tae-eul be contemplating in this picture? As noted by others she is adamant in episode 16 about visiting the Joseon period. This because so she can wear the Binyeo (which I’ve been told is an hairpin worn exclusively by married women). She asks Lee Gon to pass it to her during their scene in the ‘in-between’. Lee Gon even asks her about her focus on it, a question she deflects which indicates to the viewer that there is an underlying real reason (a hint that Tae-eul wants to marry him eventually). Link with info about the Binyeo and its meaning at the end of this post***.

The ‘flash-forward’ and the ‘flash-back’ to their current selves

As someone who was a little confounded at first by the ending, because it builds up to them dating as a way of catching up (Lee Gon even describes it as so), implies Tae-eul becoming Queen and there being an heir (Lady Noh talking about the Ancient Shrine), have Lee Gon truly embrace his identity as the King to then have them do a flash-forward seemingly implying them dating forever. This was incredibly weird to me because the secondary “plot problem” of the show is the question of Lee Gon’s marriage. It is brought up a lot. Way too much to be resolved by having his cousin inherit the position of monarch. It would also be very out of character of Lee Gon since his cousin is (purposefully as to disabuse us of the notion) implied to be happy with her current life. It is only when Lee Gon believes he must sacrifice himself that he makes her his heir (which shocks everyone since they know that Lee Gon is a responsible monarch who knows of his duty to have his own ‘proper’ heir). It was as I already mentioned something Lee Gon seeks to solve during the drama, as evident in his discussion with Prince Buyeong and by him proposing to Jeong Tae-eul. So leaving it seemingly unresolved was to me strange. The direction of the last scene seemed to speak directly against the writing. I even wondered for a second if the director decided last minute to have a more open ending somewhat similar to CLOY (it would still be more open than CLOY’s though, since otherwise they would have cut the reference to the Ancient Shrine and Lady Noh making Lee Gon take a talisman with him). Re-watching the episode however I did realize that the dating was (as I mentioned above and previously) literally explained as them ‘catching up’ on what they’ve missed. *It is a call-back to Tae-eul expressing the wish to do so in that heartbreaking episode 15 scene by the bench. They are even on their way to watch a film in that last scene, one of the things Tae-eul mentioned she wanted to do with Lee Gon when ‘doing everything that they had skipped’. It does make a fair amount of sense to have the show end with them ‘catching up’ and having all of the time in the world. This because they have earlier had to ‘skip’ a lot of things and be fearful of the uncertain future (fearing that they have only so much time). Tae-eul worries about this early on and Lee Gon is devastated about it during episodes 12-15. 

Lee Gon telling the secretary about his relationship status as he knows it is his duty to marry one day (episode 13). This being before Tae-eul finally takes the leap, putting on his necklace and later accepting his flowers. 

More importantly however is that the direction doesn’t actually speak against the writing. I don’t believe it seeks to determine that they never get married. Why do I think so? As I’ve written before, because after the flash-forward to their old selves the drama flashes back to their current selves, leaving them as they are in the present about to write their own future. This is a deliberate choice and is something which is narratively important since Lee Gon has finally fulfilled his life-long duty. He is now free to make his own fate with Jeong Tae-eul, which he asked for advice as to how to do in his conversation with his uncle the Prince and in his conversation with her at the hospital (seeking to resolve the ‘marriage plot’). Jeong Tae-eul has overcome her fears (her ‘trial’ of the drama - she was pushed on her decision to be brave and to have faith**) and has bravely embraced and chosen him as her fate. Embracing that this will probably mean, as Jo Yeong suggested, becoming Queen, traveling between worlds and keeping quiet about the other world. How they do it is not spelled out and is probably something the director/writer wanted to skip. 

Enjoying having time i.e. enjoying today i.e. dating

I have a guess as to why actually. The couple is purposefully left enjoying the present, which they have earned after all the time they have had to worry about the future believing that they are running out of time. Enjoying the present at this moment to them means enjoying dating (as I said earlier - them going to watch a film should be understood as them ‘doing what they’ve skipped’ because it references Tae-eul’s earlier wish to do so, not as them dating forever). Them enjoying today could be argued would have been emotionally undermined if they themselves were shown thinking about/planning the future. This is why Lady Noh instead is there hinting about it with the talisman and the talk of the Ancient Shrine. (There’s a link below with meta which has some great suggestions based on the what we’ve seen so far in the show on how and when Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul might get married). The flash-forward simply shows us their promise visually (and confirms) that they will love each other forever tirelessly. In ‘the Heirs’ (written by the same writer) there is also a ‘flash-forward’ which is the main character imagining a possible (but implied certain) future before the drama flashes ‘back’ to the present leaving the main characters about to embrace the rest of their lives. I don’t believe that either ‘flash-forward’ is meant to do anything else than to imply that the characters will be happy together in the future.

Perhaps the drama ran out of time and this is why the drama goes out of its way to almost literally say “Everything will be fine”/”They will be happy forever and face everything together” + hinting with another reference to the Ancient Shrine. Doing so knowing that they had built up to them marrying/getting engaged without actually having time to show it and to show how to fix the doppelganger situation. Or they simply didn’t believe it necessary to do so and thought it better to leave them as enjoying finally having time. The books which were published after the show do have Lee Gon proposing by asking Jeong Tae-eul: “Can I be the one who fills your days?”/“Can I be part of your everyday?��� (she accepts) which to me seems to mean that they will be part of each others’ everyday i.e. the opposite of only having weekend rendezvous (which would entail being only part of each others’ days - quite literally). It somewhat seems to me also to be the writer deciding to make some of the emotional subtext of the second flower scene into text as well (according to my reading of that scene at least). It could simply be the writer deciding to make it more clear that they will eventually marry.

Are you telling me that these two clingly love-sick idiots (I adore them) will be able to keep themselves apart when they look this sad after only a couple of weeks? (To be slightly more serious: They are acting like a ‘new’ couple dating, which is no coincidence because it is at that stage in their relationship we leave them. You can find similar scenes to this in other kdramas which is no coincidence as it is (I believe) meant to evoke them). 

+ There is also a scene in episode seven which implies that Jeong Tae-eul feels stuck in her job. As @ambitious-witch pointed out during the drama she doesn’t seem to care too much about being promoted. In this episode seven scene when asked why she is adamant about trying for a promotion (despite seemingly not adequately preparing for it which KSJ asks her about, implying, that her heart is not in it) she replies:

Not a very meaningful reason, which is no coincidence. If the show wanted Jeong Tae-eul to continue being a cop forever it would have built it up and it wouldn’t have had a storyline of her feeling restless in her job. Jeong Tae-eul’s drive is being brave and doing what’s right when others cannot. She has a very strong sense of right and wrong (as Lee Gon does). This entails being someone who fights for justice, which is why she is adamant to stop Lee Lim and call out PM Koo. I believe if she can do these things in another way she could very well choose to do so. The Royal Family is portrayed as the people who protect the Kingdom and through the responsibilities of the Manpasikjeok and the Four Tiger Sword we know that the monarch is tasked with standing up against evil. So is it a big leap that Tae-eul would eventually become Queen aiding Lee Gon and taking part in his responsibilities? I don’t think so. Sure, perhaps she remains a cop for awhile and is a very low-key behind-the-scenes Queen (*as not to disturb Luna’s life - though she could be a more official Queen if she wants), but I don’t see why they eventually wouldn’t decide to live together and have a kid/an heir. *Who importantly would be the next monarch and protector, and who would need just and good parents to bring them up and prepare them.

(The question of doppelgangers and Luna is a non-issue, as explained in the meta below*. The scene with the wiping of fingerprints is a PPL scene as I mentioned in my last meta and shouldn’t be taken too seriously. It is even deliberately undermined by Lee Gon struggling with erasing the CCTV footage in the next scene. Given the clues and the foreshadowing going on in episode 16 I can personally only conclude that they will get married one day. Below is a TL;DR though I have added some new details as well)

TL;DR: The drama hints during the last episode that Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul will eventually marry. It leaves them however as enjoying the present and ‘catching up’ on everything they have missed. Simply focusing and enjoying dating at the moment no longer fearing that their time together will be short. During the drama Lee Gon seeks to solve his and Tae-eul’s problem (of being from different worlds since he must eventually marry and produce an heir) by asking Prince Buyeong for advice. The Prince indicates that even though they are from different worlds things will be fine. That fate is not something Lee Gon must fight and that he hopes that Lee Gon’s fate is a woman since he really should get married soon. The Lady Noh reveal indicates that there is no problem with moving into another world. During the drama Jeong Tae-eul refers to Lee Gon as her fate (in episode eight) and in the last episode after having gone through hardships they state that they have chosen each other as their fate. The fate that chose them is not the fate of being from different worlds but each other, which is consistent with how they have spoken about fate during the drama. They also state that they will love each other tirelessly no matter what the future might bring. In the background Lady Noh and the FluteKid/FateKid are plotting to get them married soon and perhaps even have an heir by next year. Lady Noh’s talismans clearly work and Lee Gon is chided into accepting one (which is about getting the Kingdom a Queen) which results in him bringing Jeong Tae-eul back later. Honestly we should all be kinda scared of Lady Noh, cause everything she wants to happen does. Perhaps Jeong Tae-eul will be a somewhat private Queen (*not unheard of in the real world) or they will solve the issue with Luna in another way (since she still doesn’t have parents a ‘surprise twin’ is not impossible). The drama perhaps didn’t have time to show all of that though (a lot of things were already being tied up in episode 16) which is why the episode merely indicates them getting married in the future rather than showing it. It could also be as to not emotionally undermine the couple enjoying the present. The important conclusion of TKEM is that Lee Gon and Jeong Tae-eul are reunited, that they remember each other and that they don’t have to be worried anymore of time running out. The future is theirs to shape and they can make it into what they will. 

Or more accurately into what Lady Noh wills. Remember how Lee Gon made Lady Noh throw the talismans away in episode one? Here he has changed his tune and is now accepting it, putting it back into his pocket (Someone wanna guess why?)

*This blog has written brilliantly about the ending and LG’s and JTE’s future, it also explains the Ancient Shrine, which I’ve referenced in this meta and I would highly recommend people to read it: https://bitchesoverdramas.com/2020/06/16/the-king-ep-16-the-happy-ending/

**Blog post from the same blog which explains how Jeong Tae-eul’s faith was challenged in her scene with Lee Lim: https://bitchesoverdramas.com/2020/06/14/the-king-eps-15-16-qas-on-mackerel-embracing-fate-and-palm-leaves/

***About the Binyeo: https://www.korea.net/TalkTalkKorea/English/community/community/CMN0000003426

Would love some comments on this two-part meta or just asks about anything TKEM, dramas or stories in general (or other stuff) so please feel free to get in touch. Should I write shorter posts and break them down into several instead of posting long ones? I do have a list of headcanons about TKEM I might finish and share soon. 

[the-lightning-mage]

Inquisition OC as a Companion

I’ve already made a post about some stuff about Holly, but I love the format @little-lightning-lavellan​ made, and it really made me think. The picture is my best attempt at making her on artbreeder. 

You have selected Holly Trevelyan to join your party!

Race: Human

Gender: Female

Class: Mage

Specialization: Rift mage

Background:

Holly Trevelyan is the second youngest of seven children born to Bann and Lady Trevelyan. Born in 9:12 Dragon, she is also the only mage of the family. She came into her magic when she was 12, and thus spent most of her life in the Circle. Due to the more lax nature of the Ostwick Circle, and her being from a noble family, she was able to regularly send and receive letters. The only person she ever really got letters from is her younger sibling. This caused them to be incredibly close despite the distance.

In her early years she spent most of her time studying healing magic in hopes it would help let her get out of the circle. After lots of discouragement, she ended up giving up on that dream. Instead she focused her studies on storm based magic, as she had always found rain and thunder comforting.

After reading several books, and hearing several accounts as to how much more advanced Tevinter magic could be in certain areas, she had a new goal. She decided to try to harness electrical based magic so that it could be used as an energy source. This path has led to her becoming one of the most powerful storm based mages in Thedas.

When the talks of rebellion began, she was a part of them. She hated being cooped up all the time, and she had heard horror stories of how other mages were treated. When the rebellion began, she was not so involved. She was horrified by the levels of wrathful violence some of her peers employed. She spent a lot of time helping people escape. When she herself did, she knew that the entirety of the rebellion could not be like that, and she seriously considered joining them. Instead she decided to go find her younger sibling. That choice only solidified when she heard of what happened to the Conclave.

She becomes a rift mage because that is what either a. Killed her sibling or b. Almost killed them.

Dragon Age: Inquisition

She arrives in Haven shortly before the party leaves to address the Chantry in Val Royeaux. She shows up not to necessarily join the Inquisition, but in an attempt to find out what happened to her sibling. She can be found just outside the gates near the stables arguing with Cullen, demanding information.

If the Inquisitor is human, and thus her sibling, the conversation to recruit her flows a lot more smoothly. She will then ask to be part of the Inquisition, saying she damn near had a heart attack when she thought they had died, and that they had been apart for far, far too long. If she is refused, the Inquisitor will tell her to go home. There will be a war table mission to ensure she gets there safely. If she is accepted, she rises through the ranks rather quickly due to her skill. Solas will accuse the Inquisitor of nepotism.

If the inquisitor is not human, she will get emtional, wanting to know where her sibling is. She will demand to join the Inquisition to get justice for her fallen sibling. If denied, she will join the rebel mages instead. If they are sided with, she will technically be part of the Inquisition, but not as a companion. If not, she discovers Dorian, gives him what info she has, and flees. If she is accepted, there will be a war table mission to find her sibling’s remains or something they had on them.

In Haven, she can be found near the Inquisitor’s cabin. In Skyhold she can be found in one of the unused towers near Cullen’s office. It will have fancy looking equipment for her experiments.

She can be used to gather rebel mage support.

Approval and Romance

As they are siblings, human Inquisitors will have an easier time gaining approval, but for certain situations, they will face greater disapproval than non-humans. For example, non-humans will get “Holly disapproves” if they conscript the mages instead of treating them as allies, but humans will get “Holly greatly disapproves.”

When it comes to the big decisions, like what to do with the Wardens, who goes into the Well of Sorrows, etc. She tends to take in all of the “what ifs?” and bases her own opinions on that rather than her own morals. She may not like a decision, but if she thinks it will ultimately have the best out come, that is the one she goes with.

She likes to view most things from every angle she can. She prefers more merciful forms of justice, and can tend to be very forgiving. She likes it when the Inquisitor tries their best to understand others, while not necessarily condoning their actions. She likes it when they help those in need, though not as much as Cole does.

She can only be romanced by non human Inquisitors for obvious reasons, and she can be romanced by both men and women. If neither she or Cullen are romanced, they will end up in a relationship together. Instead of having a big romance scene, at high levels of approval, human Inquisitors will get an emotional scene where she tells them just how much she was worried about them.

Her personal quest involves her closest friend from the Circle. He sends her a letter telling her that he alive, and would love to catch up. It turns out to be a ploy, as he betrays her. He can be killed or talked down and shown mercy.

Her romance quest involves taking her to a few different locations throughout Orlais and Ferelden.

Trespasser

High Approval: She stayed with the Inquisition over the last to years as their advisor on matters of the Arcane. She presents them a unique weapon she had been working on in free time. Romance does not change this.

Low Approval if Cullen was romanced: She spent the last two years traveling. Seeing the world she never could see before. She helps and sends word back to the Inquisition when need be.

Low Approval if Cullen was not romanced: She remains with the Inquisition, helping where she can. She spends a lot of time helping Cullen figure out how to best utilize the mages.

Post trespasser: She spends much of her time working, and when she is able to get a working prototype she presents it to whatever Mage authority there is, and gets funding. It helps propel mages into good opinion. Details about her relationship are shared.

Combat Comments

Killing an enemy:

“Block this!”

“Eat ash!”

“You shouldn’t have underestimated me!”

Low health:

“Do we have another healer?”

“Armor failed me.”

“Help!”

Low health Inquisitor and Companions:

“Inquisitor!”

“Brother/Sister!”

“I’m on my way Dorian.”

“Maker, someone help the Seeker.”

“I’ve got you, Varric.”

“Shit... Bull!”

“Cole’s down!”

Other

Approaching camp: “I’ve always want to go camping.” “I’m not expert, but this seems like a lovely place to stop?”

Approaching a High Dragon: “Are they really that big?”

Using an ocularum for the first time: “Are you sure you don’t want me to examine it first?”

Picking up shards after finding the temple: “What are these doing all the way out here?”

Location Comments

Arbor Wilds: “It’s a shame we have to fight here.”

Old Crestwood: “No wonder they’re having problems with undead. Look at all the spirits.” “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Emerald Graves: “Am I the only one who thinks this place is beautiful?” “Wow....”

Emprise du Lion: “This... this is why I wear a cloak.” “I should summon some lightning. Start a fire and destroy the red lyrium. Two birds with one stone.”

Exalted Plains: “They really could not think of a worse name.” “A place that is a monument to humanity’s evil taken over by demons. Ironic.”

The Fallow Mire: “Ugh.” “I think I saw a bug the size of my hand.” “I love nature, but I hate this place.”

Forbidden Oasis: “This place would be nice if it weren’t for the Venatori... and the giant.” “I’m confused. Why is they’re a temple here? Who built it?”

Hinterlands: “Can we visit Redcliffe?” “So much chaos....” “We can help the people here, right?”

Hissing Wastes: “How do I have sand in my armor?” “Dwarven ruins on the surface? This is a dream come true.” “Great. Venatori.”

Storm Coast: “Crossing the Waking Sea was my favorite part of getting here.” “I actually quite like the weather.” “I wonder... is this place more prone to lightning storms?”

Western Approach: “Talk about a wasteland.” “Poison hot springs and chasms into the Deep Roads? At least there are ruins.” “I suppose this is a good place for nefarious deeds.”

Advisor and Companion comments

Blackwall: “She’s very dedicated and has a good heart. She’s what people should think of when they hear “mage.””

Cassandra: “She is very dedicated to the cause, though I worry she might set fire to Skyhold with one of her... experiments.”

Cole: “Trapped. Walled in. Caged like a fancy bird. Not anymore, but she stays because she wants to help. Is helping. She’s good, like her healing spells.”

Cullen: “She’s dedicated, clever, and very, very persistent. She’s been a great help with the mages.”

If in a relationship with her: “She’s... amazing, isn’t she? I’m not sure what she sees in me.”

Dorian: “You don’t find many people so open to new ideas, or people that are that accepting. She is excellent company.”

Iron Bull: “She’s different from the other mages. Too entrenched in her work to boast about it. Way more practical. I have a lot of respect for what she’s trying to do.”

Josephine: “Though I wish we could make better use of her noble ties. She is invaluable, and holds great conversations.”

Leliana: “It’s not often you meet someone who has truly nothing to hide.”

Sera: “I dunno. She makes too much sense for a mage, ya know? At least she’s pretty.”

Solas: “Holly? Ah. We don’t particularly get along, but I approve of what she is trying to do, and has accomplished.”

Varric: “You wouldn’t guess it, but Bookworm is just as good in battle as she is in that tower of hers. Thank the maker it takes a lot to piss her off. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of one of her lightning bolts.”

Vivienne: “I’ll be honest, I do not agree with her on everything, but at least she is loyal. Her work ethic is to be admired as well. She dresses rather simply though.”

Trivia

At first, everyone thinks Holly is the nickname Varric gave her. It doesn’t match her personality.

While she may not believe Dorian about the time magic, she immediately believes him and Felix about the Venatori. She had heard rumors about them before the events of Hushed Whispers, but nothing concrete enough to tell anyone.

Her relationship with Cullen starts with him asking her if she can soothe headaches. She has somewhat of a reputation for her healing magic, even if she doesn’t use it much.

She is an excellent singer.

Like Solas and Varric, she acts like a parent towards Cole.

If the Inquisitor is a human man who romances Dorian, she’ll tease him for having a type.

[the-darklings]

—𝒂𝒏 𝒊𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒂𝒏;

pairing: higgs monaghan x f!reader

word count: 3.7k+

summary: “The storm will always reach the shore. Such is the nature of storms. They destroy.”

warnings: mentions of child abuse, DOOMS side effects, swearing, major DT spoilers obviously.

notes: So I’m playing hard and loose with canon here. Personally, I much prefer the idea of Higgs being this nihilist who is so powerful it's almost like he's a mischievous demi-god wrecking the world simply because he CAN. Because it’s his idea of kindness to end it all now. We’re just, uh, gonna mostly ignore EE here.

There’s a girl here.

There should be no girl here.

He doesn’t visit often—not anymore, at least. Not since his Beach has started giving him an odd, haunting sort of feeling.

The marvel of being able to see his own most private space struck a sense of awe in him once. Fragile jumped him here the first time.

And oh how he remembers that trip. The sensation of being here. The feeling of the sea breeze, the potent charge and heaviness that hung in the air like it was seconds away from storming.

The sea is restless now too, waves beating angrily against the shore as he stands there watching. Storm clouds boil ominous and dark in the distance, hanging over the distant horizon like a shroud.

His Beach is a rather desolate place. But it’s his and his alone.

That’s why an idea of someone else being here, in his space, rattles him.

For the first time in a long time, he feels unnerved.

Not even Fragile came that time.

No one, not even Amelie, has seen his Beach.

But the intruder stands knee-deep in the swirling water, gaze focused on the far distance. If Higgs had to take a guess, he thinks that you, too, are watching the clouds. Perhaps you’re wondering if the storm is going to reach the shore.

The storm will always reach the shore. Such is the nature of storms. They destroy.

The intruder suddenly tenses, turns, as if sensing that something is not right, but Higgs is faster. Between one breath and the next, he jumps right in front of you. He stands on top of the water, towering over you, and tilts his head in an open display of curiosity.

He catches a glimpse of your face. The parting of lips, the widening of your eyes, a startled gasp.

He reaches for you, ready to get his answers, but his hand sails through thin air instead.

He leans back, startled, and watches the dark remains of chiral matter tickle his gloved fingers.

Well, well, how interesting.

He knows you’ll be back.

There is no real way for him to know for sure, but he does.

He considers it a gut feeling and it has rarely failed him in the past.

Of course, just like expected, he’s right.

He’s made a habit of keeping a more careful vigil over his Beach ever since the little run-in, and he finds you once again breaching his space only three days later.

This time, he can sense you clearer, sharper.

The fact that you’re able to jump from his Beach at will suggest your DOOMS level is high. The tickle of curiosity makes him focus, inhale deeply, sensing and considering you as he watches. He wonders what’s your reason for coming here.

Why would you return if you know someone else is possibly occupying this space?

This time, instead of standing still you’re walking, your head tilted towards the sky in wide-eyed wonder.

He tears through the Beach, appearing right in front of you.

You stagger to a stop, instinctively shrinking back from his dark get up and golden skull mask. He cuts an imposing figure, he knows that. It still doesn’t stop him from smiling smugly beneath his masks though.

He knows you’re going to jump even before your fight or flight response kicks in, and he twists his arm, the black coil of BT energy wrapping around your arm like a rope.

You jump anyway and drag him with you like an unruly dog with an unassuming owner.

The jump only takes you about a hundred meters before you stumble to a stop, turning frantically to stare at your arm. You shake it frantically, trying to loosen the tight grip but Higgs clenches his fingers further and the black mass connecting you together contracts further.

He feels a pang of vague disappointment and annoyance. Are you not as powerful as he first suspected? He waits for you to use your DOOMS to break free but instead, you stagger forward, jumping again.

And again.

Again.

Irritation prickles his nerves as you drag him through half the Beach with stubbornness alone. Still, this is what he wants in a sense; for you to tire yourself out, to show just how powerful you truly are. You can’t keep this up forever.

“Let me go!”

“You’re free to go,” he drawls, mockery clear in his voice. “Go on then.”

Your eyes rage like the storm on the horizon and Higgs chuckles under his breath. The sound gets cut off almost immediately when he feels a swell of energy from his intruder. An arm pulsing with pure darkness and silver explodes from thin air, ripping the rope he’s fashioned between you.

The hand disappears the moment the action is done, leaving the air thick with chiralium, and you swaying on your feet. Higgs doesn’t waste time, he appears behind you, wrapping his arm around your neck as he presses you flush against him.

“Hmm, dear me,” he hums cheerfully against your ear, and you squirm desperately in his arms, panting. Exhausted. “Someone went ahead and got themselves into a predicament, didn’t we? You jump now, you take me with you.”

“Let go of me!”

“I don’t think so,” he says, his voice dipping into something colder. “Fool me once shame on me, fool me twice…well, there is no second time.”

He doesn’t see the headbutt coming till it connects with his face. The impact rattles his masks—barely a tickle, really—and he suspects you did more damage to yourself than him.

He laughs. He can’t quite help it.

Snapping his fingers, he steps back, gathering the already thick output of chiralium from you earlier performance to give life to the black tar that crawls up your body like shackles, bringing you to your knees.

“You’re an interesting little thing, ain’t ya?” he quips with a smile, tilting his head to get a better look at your face. Your expression is sallow and twisted with concentration as you breathe heavily. “So, you’re able to summon Gazers, huh? Or part summon at least. Ooh, but you don’t look so good,” he mocks, bending down to your level.

You trash, glaring, but have clearly exhausted yourself too much with you earlier performance. Tears roll down your cheeks and he tsks, leaning back before standing to circle you.  

“Who are you?” you demand but it’s a winded and exhausted attempt to appear strong.

Still, brownie points for effort.

“Oh me? I’m nobody,” he answers and leans closer, putting his fingers under your chin so he can meet your stare head-on. “And I’m everybody.”

He jumps behind you and observes with mild interest as you fight…so hard to get loose.

For a moment it takes him back to the shelter. It revives memories of his Daddy, of those powerful arms dragging him back—

“How did you find this place?”

Silence answers him, and in the far distance thunder rumbles.

He leans over you from behind, the coldness of his mask brushing against your warm cheek. “Didn’t your mama teach you that it’s rude to trespass, hm?”

“I’m not trespassing,” you snap, sounding as frustrated as he feels. “I’ve always been able to come here.”

Implying that the last two times have clearly not been the first. Underneath his mask, Higgs frowns in thought. Something like that shouldn’t be possible.

Some freak bleed-through effect as the network grows more powerful, perhaps? Or maybe your DOOMS level is powerful enough to give you access without you even realising it?

He could ask Amelie but, well, it seems like he’ll have to do some old-fashioned digging. The thought of just anyone being able to come here without his permission makes an angry growl bubble at the back of his throat.  

“Then I suggest you forget the path to this place real quick, honey.”

A sigh of indisputable frustration. “I’ve tried.”

“Try harder,” he insists, and this time the jovial undertone is completely absent. “Or the next time I find you here, I will scatter your remains across my Beach.”

With that, he turns to go.

“W-Wait! I can’t get out.”

He doesn’t bother turning around. “That’s not my problem.”

And then he’s gone.

Beach Log #1

-

There’s a girl in my Beach.

The Beach.

The one place where no one should be able to gain access some stranger apparently can just wander in whenever she pleases.

If I applied my Daddy’s logic to this, I should have just “encouraged” the truth out of her. I could have. And it would have been easy, too, with how exhausted she was. But I didn’t want to because where’s the fun in that? Maybe it’s because she almost reminded me—

No. There’s no point in even allowing myself to think about such bullshit. The past is the past.

The girl is powerful though. Being able to even partially summon a Grazer is…something.

Regardless, I’ve never seen her before, have no attachment to her whatsoever, nor she with me. Which then raises a rather interesting question for the class: how was she able to find my Beach? How is she able to come and go as she pleases?

I will find out. I always do.

It’s only a matter of time before she’s back again.

I don’t know how I know, but I do.

What a goddamn mess.

He finds you crying.

Normally, he loves it when people start sobbing in his presence, except this time he knows the tears have little to do with him. Or at least, he assumes so, considering you still haven’t spotted him.

He approaches deliberately, power sizzling between his fingers. He told you what will happen if you wander in here again, and while admittedly he’s become rather interested in learning more, it still irks him to see you back.

Waves beat against you as you kneel in the dark sand, the distant rumble of thunder the only sound between you. You know he’s here. He stands before you and waits.

He’s not sure what for, exactly, perhaps for you to plead for your life. To fight, which would be preferable. A challenge is always welcomed.

“Do you have a death wish, girl?” he speaks, at last, having grown bored of waiting.

By this point, your sobbing has subsided into an occasional sniffle and he watches with a degree of interest as your head rises. A large wave washes over your body, making you shiver, and your teeth clench when your eyes meet.

They’re bloodshot but furious and sad too.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you whisper but it’s a dead and hollow thing.

He knows that look. Has seen it plenty of times staring back at him in every reflective surface when he was still a brat. Trapped and unable to leave, wasting away with his stomach in knots and nursing dark bruises. He knows what a wild, trapped thing looks like. He’s spent years being one of them.

He escaped when his Daddy died. He imagines you haven’t been quite so lucky.

He wonders, then, if that’s why you find your way here. If perhaps his Beach recognises that frantic hurt, the restless longing for freedom in you as well.

“Oh, I’ve heard that plenty of times in the past,” he remarks scornfully, raising his arm and watches how power curls through his fingers with that effortless ease he now treasures so fiercely. “Can you guess where they all ended up?”

“I don’t know how I get here,” you mutter instead, but your gaze is cautious, wary. Smart girl. “I’m not doing anything wrong either. I just…come here. It’s peaceful. It’s—”

“An escape?”

Your eyes jump to him in surprise. Teardrops still cling to your lashes, clumping them together. You look like a mess, and he’s inclined to tell you so but before he can, you stagger to your feet. Unsteady but determined.

“I won’t bother you, I promise,” you explain hurriedly, and look like you’re about to take a step towards him but think better of it. “Just—can I please continue coming here?”

Your hopeful eyes try to find his own beneath the mask and he chuckles. It’s a scathing sound and he jumps behind you, making you flinch.

“Let me think about that one,” he drawls lazily, “Hm. Nope. No can do. Go to your own Beach.”

Recoiling, you turn around to stare up at him with a mix of bitter disappointment. Your drenched appearance isn’t doing you any favours in helping you appear more menacing either. Just more miserable.  

“I—I can’t.”

“Sweet thing, you’re saying that with a tone that implies I should give a damn, and, uh,” he says, nodding his head from side to side as if in deep thought. “I really don’t. But I’ll bite. Why can’t you go?”

You wring your hands together but halt when you notice his attention drift towards the restless motion. “I…it makes me feel…unwell.”

Oh?

“What’s your DOOMS level?” is his sharp and immediate response.

Your eyes fly up to him and you visibly swallow.

Sore question, huh? He figured it had something to do with your DOOMS level from the start but this as good as confirms it.

“That’s private,” you respond firmly, your eyes regaining some of that sheen from your second meeting, from your fight. “I don’t even know who you are.”

Higgs sighs loudly, spreading his arms to either side of him like he looks forward to welcoming you into his embrace. “I am the owner of this Beach. Which means my rules are at play right now,” he explains and wags his finger at you like you’re a naughty child. In some sense, you are. “And don’t try to lie to me, either. I can sense it. The power that simmers under your skin. Hmm, oh yes. I do believe that I know exactly what ails you.”

Your eyes widen, your lips part in wonder, and it’s almost miserable how full of hope you look in that moment. “You—you do? Tell me.”

“Tsk, tsk, what do I look like to you?” he wonders, gesturing at himself, but doesn’t wait for your reply. “A charitable man? Sorry to disappoint but no dice. Your DOOMS level first.”

The hesitation marring your face is understandable. This world is cruel with those without power, and it is—perhaps—even crueller to those with power. Higgs is starting to piece together a murky image when it comes to you. An image that tells him that you have no idea how to harness that great power lurking deep down. It tells him that DOOMS is eating you from inside out and you have no idea how to cope because no one has shown you how.

Once—no, more than once—he’s been in a similar position. A position of no power, no resources, no future. Of course, that’s before he realised how idiotic it is to hope for a better world. Before he freed himself of the shackles holding him down, binding him to this endless struggle till he eventually dies.

Better raze everything in existence to nothing before he goes out.

“It was Level Six but—”

A whistle slips free and filters through his mask, echoing across the otherwise empty Beach as your eyes narrow. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh loudly. He jumps to your side and leans closer towards your face.

“My, my,” he coos softly, his words taunting as he ghosts his fingers over your chin. “You’ve grown stronger, haven’t you? Just like me.”

You pull back, a step at the time only, and he can at least respect the fact that you don’t scurry away like a spooked animal. You shouldn’t either. In real life, outside this Beach at least, he imagines you’re powerful enough to cause all sorts of trouble.

Something tells him that others know it too. That’s why his Beach is an escape. Why you’re so desperate to stay.

But why him? And why now?

He turns away from you, dismissive, and steps onto the water. He stays on top of the restless surface and lowers his head to look at his blurred reflection beneath. The golden mask gleams even in the murky mirror.

A mask not for death, he swore to himself once, but for ruling. For life.

He glances back at you. You stand shivering and wary on the shore, and he snorts under his breath. Miserable, but powerful little thing. Alone too.

Wild and trapped.

“Stay if you will, but I promise you this: you will find no peace here.”

Higgs can tell you’re about to appear approximately five seconds before you actually bloom into existence.

It’s a tickle of power, almost like a hand reaching out and grasping onto him, before you appear in a swirl of black and silver. Your knees fold and you sink onto them, your lips cracked and mouth twisted into an unhappy line.

“You look like shit.”

You don’t say anything in reply to that. You simply breathe. In fact, you inhale so deeply, he reckons your lungs expand to their full capacity. It’s like you haven’t drawn a single breath since the last time he saw you here.

Higgs watches the storm in the distance, his elbows resting on his raised knees as he waits for the swelling waves to finally reach you both.

Your hands drop to either side of you, and your fingers dig into the dark sand desperately. Your relief at being here is palpable, and he would be lying if he didn’t admit to himself that he finds it as irritating as he does fascinating.

His eyes slide unhurriedly across the landscape.

It’s a miserable fucking place.

Dark sand, dark sky, dark water. 

Dark as far as the eye can see.

There is nothing about this place that should make you think of safety, of comfort.

The expression on your face says otherwise though.

Your eyes are closed, head tilted upwards, and your inhales and exhales are slow, rhythmical. Peaceful.

“What’s your name?”

When you finally do decide to speak, it’s hardly what he expects or wants. He’s here to observe you only until he can find a way to forcefully expel you from here. He’s already tried last time but failed.

It seems like you’ve lodged yourself into his Beach like a splinter. For now.

“That’s a rather shitty attempt to distract yourself, sweetheart.”

Because that’s exactly what you’re doing. Except he’s not here to give you free therapy for whatever issues you have going on. He has his own shit to handle.

“If you have nothing to hide then why wear a mask?” you wonder instead, and sound genuinely curious. “Does it mean anything?”

“It’s a symbol,” he replies and honestly doesn’t know why. Boredom, probably. “A face is not necessary for my plans. But, oh how humanity will know my name before they’re complete.”

He’s still staring towards the horizon but feels and hears your head turn in his direction. “What plans?”

A chuckle rumbles from deep inside his chest. “The type to give a little girl like you nightmares.”

“I already have nightmares,” you shoot back, and there’s a sliver of ice in your voice that makes his lips curl in amusement beneath the mask. “I told you. You don’t frighten me.”

Of course. He bets your nightmares are almost as bad as his own.

He teleports in front of you, crouching till you’re both facing each other, and his amusement only increases with your shallow—startled—exhale. “Oh yeah? And what haunts your nightmares, girl?”

You stare at him for a long moment, tight-lipped and stubborn, and he wonders if you think he’s buying into your little act. A valiant effort, but redundant.

“You.”

He laughs at that; a dry, unfriendly sound as he pats your cheek in a shallow display of mocking affection. “Good,” he mutters and rises to his feet. “I can live with that.”

Higgs does feel some semblance of surprise when you rise to your feet right after him though. “Why won’t you tell me your name? I’m (Name).”

Because he doesn’t want to.

Because you’re wary but brave too.

Because you don’t trust him—perhaps even fear him, despite how you keep insisting otherwise—but not for the reasons everyone else does.

To you, he’s just a man in a mask whose Beach you’ve decided to hijack.

There is, admittedly, a certain degree of freedom when it comes to that ignorance on your part.

The less you know, the better. It’s not like you will be coming here for much longer anyway. He will make sure of it.

Perhaps, he can indulge in that ignorance for a little bit longer in the meantime.

“I don’t care.”

Before he disappears, he could swear he hears a chime of weak laughter follow, but the sound is ripped away from him by the jump.  

Beach Log #2

-

Maybe I should have killed her when I first saw her intruding.

Of course, that thought crossed my mind. I’m me.

Truth be told—and ain’t that a kicker—I’m not sure why I didn’t when I had the chance. Now the girl has gone ahead and made herself interesting. Just peachy.

She is powerful though. And she could be useful.

If the Last Stranding is to pass as I hope, I may need some triumph cards at my disposal. The girl—(Name)—is untapped power potential. I wager she’s even more powerful than Fragile. Ha. Just my luck.

She has that look in her eyes that I like too. A wild thing ready to break free.

Her body is weak though. Power always comes at a price, I would know. DOOMS is a poison she has no idea how to deal with, and I have a feeling someone is purposely keeping her crippled, dependant. Disgusting. But with the right encouragement…

She might become mighty yet.

If not, I will kill her. She knows too much and has access to my Beach. I can’t have loose ends. Fragile is bad enough.

She reminds me of myself though. It almost makes me hope she doesn’t disappoint.

. . .

an: I’m trash and I will never change. I do have plans for more (since this is only a small part of the longer narrative I planned to write) so if you guys would like to see more, let me know! We’re all thirsty for goth Troy Baker and honestly who can blame us? Thank you for reading!

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 7.. )

Veg • notables: Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Previous: Part 1 | Part 2 Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K)  Jeff, Scott and Grandma.

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 7 Kesalahan

The quiet tinny sound of music and a steady bass beat were the first things Kayo noticed as she started to drift in the land between wakefulness and sleep.

Grogginess sat heavily on her achy body but the comforting scents of home;  a pleasant mix of the sea and her husband’s aftershave, greeted her waking mind.

Opening her eyes just enough to peer through her lashes she was surprised to find the room still heavily shadowed with the exception of the table lamp set on low across from the foot of the bed.   

Its soft light spilled gently into the room and played over the form of her husband.   Casting a juxtaposition of shadows and light across his stubbled jaw and the little dent in his chin she loved so much.  

She wondered briefly who their child would take after.  Her husband’s strong handsome features or her Malay curves and angles.  Either way, she thought as she shifted her hand to cup the swell of her belly,  she would love the child with all she was worth. 

There was no way she was going to let this little go through the beginning of its life like she had.   Running and hiding from a mad man bent on destruction. 

Pushing those thoughts aside she turned her mind back to Virgil.  

He’d pulled up one of the arm chairs from their small sitting room to the side of the bed.  His bare foot was perched up on the side of the bed while he tinkered on a data pad that was resting on an upraised knee.   

He was awake, for that she was certain as he’d dawned a pair of headphones and he’s head was bobbing to whatever musical composition he was generating.   

Intent on whatever it was he was doing, Kayo just watched him.  Enjoying the play of light through his tousled hair and the way he nibbled his lower lip when he was concentrating.  A trait he swore he didn’t do.

It was a good five minutes before he looked up,  his brow shooting up into his hairline when he noticed she was awake. 

Setting the data pad down,  he pulled the headphones from his head.  It was obvious he’d been doing whatever it was he was doing for some time but the banded, depression the headphones had left across the top of his head.  

He smiled at her,  checking the time on the bedside chronometer and dragged a hand over his face as he stretched his shoulders out with a pop.   

“Hey,”  There was a huskiness to his voice that had she been in better shape would have curled her toes.  

“Hey”  She whispered back.  “What are you working on?”  

Virgil shrugged, glancing down at the pad.  “Nothing much,  just passing the time.”  

“Can I hear it?”  

“It’s not done and really it’s just fiddling.”  

“You don’t have to sit vigil.”  She said, holding her hand to him and hoping he would take it. “Doctor Coxley said I would be fine in a couple weeks.”   

“Yes, I do.”  His reply was matter of fact. “And he did but had I been watching you better we wouldn’t be here now.” 

“Virgil…”  Kayo sighed in exasperation, pushing herself up with some effort  so she could see him better.  She wasn’t going to have this conversation lying down like an invalid

Virgil came to her aid,  sliding his arm across her back and holding her steady as he propped her pillows up.  

“Thanks.”  She said, laying her hand on his cheek before he could turn away.  She wanted him to kiss her but she wasn’t sure if they were there yet.   

He put his hand over hers,  turning into her palm but he pulled away a moment later and sat on the edge of the bed.  

“You need anything?”  It was asked as a distraction and Kayo knew it well.  She’d used this trick a few times herself over the years.  

“Virgil,  look at me.”  

He did, reluctantly.  The fidgeting of his fingers against his knees as if he was running through scales told her he was uncomfortable and wanted to be discussing anything but this.  

“You’re not to take it all on yourself.  I am just as much to blame, if not more so for this.”  Kayo pointed at herself,  circle her index finger around all of her and then some.   

“I was the one that messed up with my pill five months ago.  I was the one that was pushing myself to do too much.  I was the one that withheld things from you.”

“Which you apologized for.”  He stated. “And five months ago I messed up just as much as you did.  I’m the one with the medical training and I gave you those antibiotics.”  

Kayo nodded, and fiddled with the edge of the sheets at her waist. “You did but at the time,  neither one of us was thinking very straight. Other things seemed more … pressing.”

That comment got a chuckle out of Virgil.  “Ya,  was kind of reckless of us. If Scott ever found out…”  

She smiled and nudged his backside with her covered knee.  “Who said he doesn’t know. He might be just too embarrassed to say anything to us.”  

He peered back at her over his shoulder,  a thick brow arched in curiosity. “What makes you say that?”

She only had to say one thing.  “Biometrics.”  

Virgil groaned and dropped his face into his hands.  “That would actually explain a lot.” 

“How so?”

Virgil pursed his lips in thought.  “Odd little comments that seemed to say more than they did.  The odd awkward silence.”  he gave a shrug.  “Like something was on the tip of the tongue but then the words never came..”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.  Kayo, languishing among her pillows and soft sheets.  Virgil’s warmth comforting and lolling her mind.  

She caught herself,  not wanting to fall back asleep just yet.   Enjoying this quiet moment as their bridge to each other healed.  

“What time is it?”

“Late or early.  Depends on which you prefer.”  He rolled his shoulders,  bracing his hands on his knees as if to get up. “Little after 4am. You’ve been asleep for about 5 hours.”  

“I’ve done nothing but sleep since we left Auckland.” 

“You needed it.”  He replied, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

“And so do you.”

“I’m okay.  Grandma will be up in a bit. She’s keeping taps on your vitals for the Doc.” 

She’d figured as much.  If not Grandma than her husband would be but considering how tired he looked it was probably a good idea that Sally was doing it.  

Stretching, he got to his feet.   Grimacing as his shoulder popped in the process, he rubbed at it absently. Obviously the way he had been sitting hadn’t agreed with the old injury and it was bothering him again. 

“Come to bed.”  Hand out, she reached for him.  “You need to get some sleep and by the way you keep massaging your shoulder it looks like your body agrees with me.” 

He hesitated a moment but ultimately the call to sleep won out.  

Grabbing the edge of his shirt,  he tugged it over his head.  Discording it lazily on the floor by the foot of their bed,  a mere four feet from the laundry shoot..Kayo resisted the urge to scold.   Men truly were lazy creatures, though Virgil for the most part picked up after himself there were times that she was reminded of that fact. 

His jeans followed and she rolled her eyes as they too ended up on the floor though the view more than made up for it.  She’d always been a sucker for abs and Virgil’s were … well, words could not describe or do them any justice. 

A thick brow arched at her as he came around to the other side of the bed.  “That is not going to help either of us.”  He pointed out, slipping under the covers and opening his arm to her.

She took the invitation with ease, snuggling into his embrace and settling her head on his broad chest.  “The next two weeks are going to suck.”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest and kissed her brow.  “You’re telling me..”

Scott read over the intel reports from security again and gave up three words in.  He’d already gone over it several times and each time he came up with the same conclusion.

It was quiet on all fronts.  Their unscheduled trip to the mainland had been completely unnoticed.  Not one word of sightings of the famed Tracy Clan in any of the usual media outlets.  Not even one captured image.... Nothing.  

He knew John and Eos cast a wide net when it came to protecting the family’s privacy but usually there was something out there.  A comment on one of the social media platforms,  a blip from the military junkies that loved to watch what sort of aircraft came in and out of various GDF bases despite the numerous no trespassing signs. And a personal jet with civilian tags would have garnered at least one comment somewhere… but there was nothing.  

Sighing, he dumped the reports on the desk and flopped into his seat.   He was being paranoid but when it came to the safety of his family what choice did he have. Looking for things in the shadows when it was a bright and cheery day had been a habit born out of necessity over the years.  And now that the Hood was at large… that habit had grown tenfold.  

The main reason for that was sitting in the lowered lounge going over stock reports and grumbling at some inventory issues at one of Tracy Industries aeronautical plants on the other side of the globe. 

The others were tucked away upstairs resting, he hoped.  Though knowing his brother’s penchant for worrying that was an unlikely case.   Kayo on the other hand had been sleeping on and off since returning to the island late last night so at least that was a blessing.  

Rubbing at his eyes again he contemplated tossing the whole lot at Penny and seeing what she could make of it.  

If he was being over the top,  she would let him know in her polite aristocratic way but he knew she had her hands full at the moment with Kayo being out of action and having to compensate for the deficiency in man power. 

Usually this sort of thing was Kayo’s domain. She was an expert at reading the nuances of what was between the lines.. Or in this case; wasn’t.  Seeing the patterns in the ebb and flow of people. Finding what was out of place or suspicious in a sea of normalcy.  

Being five months pregnant and now with complications put a wrench in that resource though and Scott didn’t dare take any of this to her,  she didn’t need the stress and he didn’t need Virgil coming for his head.  

When the Bear was in full on protective mode of his mate.. Well lets just say the ferociousness of it could even unnerved Scott.  

Most of the mundane day to day tasks Scott had redelegated out among the TI security team. A group of well trained ex-forces members that Kayo had personally hand picked and vetted.   

They were a trustworthy lot that had been with them for several years and had never let them down. Trained,  retrained,  drilled and put through their paces on a regular, they never complained and were well compensated for all their hard work.     

Kayo was a very hands on person,  taking on a lot of the nitty gritty daily duties that could easily be dispersed among the people at her disposal. It allowed her on one hand to get her finger on the pulse of what was going on around her and by extension her family.  On the other hand by doing so she freed up her staff to focus on the more important task of protection. 

Thinking about protection, he was probably going to have to call someone up from the ranks that they could bring to the island.  The security system’s here were in depth but there had to be someone they could use for the interim to maintain everything.. That was a job that he would have to prioritize over the next couple of days and another thing to add to his growing list. 

 His father cursing, roused Scott from his thoughts.  “Issues?”  He asked, in need of distraction as he came around the desk. 

“Just eye strain and stupidity.  I may need to make an appearance at the office to handle this personally.”

“Dad, I don’t think..” 

Jeff waved him off one handed. “I know.  I know but I may not have a choice.  The board is being unreasonably ornery with the current project projections and if the inventory issues aren’t sorted soon there is a real possibility of a delay on production…”

“This sounds rather familiar…”  Scott groused. “You could always have legal look into the contract, see what wiggle room we have.”

“I’ve got Tom working on that now.  It’s not something that is going to bankrupt us by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just a pain in the backside. “

“And the timing …”

“Exactly,”  His Father yawned, stretching out on the couch. “ It’s the  last thing we need at the moment.”

“What’s the last thing we need?”  Came a feminine voice from the other side of the room. 

Father and son turned as one and blinked.  

“Good Heavens,  Kayo you should be resting.” 

Kayo rolled her eyes and came further into the room.   She was dressed simply in a pair of yoga pants and a Denver Tech sweater obviously belonging to Virgil considering how it dwarfed her petite frame. 

She was pale but looked rested.  An air of calm surrounded her with no evidence of the fear that had been present the previous day.  She looked settled and the relief of it had some of the tension leaving Scott.  

Hair hair was down,  curling over and around her shoulders and by the whiff of jasmine he could pick up from where he was freshly from the shower. 

Scott looked past her expecting the large frame of his brother to be shadowing her.

“I convinced him to get some sleep.”  She said, catching the direction of Scott’s gaze.  “It was either that or I was going to sic Grandma on him. 

She toddled over to the lounge and Scott offered his hand to help her down the stairs. The look she shot him would have sent most people running for the hills but he wasn’t put off by it in the slightest.   

There was a silent war for but a moment until he arched a brow at her and she conceded.   Taking his proffered hand and alighting down the stairs with ease.   

“You shouldn’t be on your feet.”  Jeff spoke up, stepping to the side to offer her the closest couch. 

Her hand settled on the swell of her belly and she smiled with exasperation at Jeff. “I wanted to stretch my legs.  I’m not used to sitting around.“

Jeff smiled back in sympathy and took her elbow, urging her to take a seat.  

Kayo complied,  easing back in the soft leather with a mild wince of discomfort.  

Zeroing in on the flash of pain, Scott crouched before her.  “You alright?”

“Just a little round ligament pain. It will pass.”  

“You sure?”  His eyes darted up to his Father’s and Jeff reached for him comms.  

“Most definitely besides,” She held up her wrist, a band like that of a watch encircling it.  “Grandma has me wired up for monitoring. I am not to take it off even to shower so there is no hiding for me until this little stowaway decides it’s time to come out.” 

The hand cupped over her small rounded belly did a gentle sweep back and forth, Kayo seemingly unaware she was even doing it as she glanced at all the data pads on the table.  

So much love for the little one that hadn’t been planned. 

Scott was still in awe of the whole situation. So much had happened in the last eight months.  

They’d gotten their father back from the dead of space after eight long years. Whole and mostly healthy though there would be long term medical issues to contend with

The relationship that Kayo and Virgil had been trying to keep under wraps from the rest of them had been found out due to a nosy reporter when they’d been on scheduled leave. Luckily with the help of Eos and John the rumours had been smothered. 

They’d had a private wedding on the beach shortly after that.  Just the direct family,  and closest friends in attendance.

And not two months after that, they’d found out the couple was pregnant when the whole family thought the relationship was on the rocks. 

So much to process and Scott still had trouble wrapping his head around it. 

“So what’s this I heard when I came in?”

Crap,  Scott had hoped that had slipped her mind and he scrambled for an appropriate response.  One that wouldn’t raise her suspicions.  His father stepped in though before he could formulate a plan.

“It’s nothing to worry about.  Just some concerns with the board in the U.S.  I got it handled.”

“You sure?  I don’t mind looking into it if you need me too.”

Jeff shook his head.  “It’s alright.  I have legal doing the leg work already.  They can handle it.

“Really, it wouldn’t take me anytime at all if you need to go in person to set up a detail.”  She stated and shifted as  if to get back to her feet. 

“I beg your pardon” Came the voice of the family Matriarch that had off three of them freezing.  ‘Tanusha Kyrano Tracy, the last thing you should be doing at the moment is working. “

Sally Tracy whooshed into the room like a woman on a mission and beelined straight for Kayo.  “And secondly to that, you better not have been walking around the island unaccompanied, young lady.  You’ve barely been back on the island twenty four hours and you’re already getting into mischief. 

Kayo’s mouth snapped shut and she looked thoroughly chest fallen.   

“I know you hate not being able to help out but really right now you need to look after yourself and that baby. “  The retired doctor plucked a random tablet off the table, swiped whatever was on the screen away and pulled up the med-reader.  

Kayo’s bio-signs flickered across the screen,  Red lines blipping out a steady beat as O2 saturation levels and blood pressure blinked in the corner. 

Grandma didn’t need to say anymore on the subject as all the proof she needed was right there on the screen. Those blood pressure readings were far from Kayo’s normal levels and creeping towards preeclampsia just like they had been not even a day prior.

Grandma tutted and handed the data pad to her son.  There was a sternness in her gaze as she perched on the couch next to Kayo and patted her knee.  “I want both of you healthy and hearty,  you still have another twenty two more weeks before that little one should make an appearance.  The faster we get on top of this the better it will be in the long run.”

Their Grandmother softened when she saw that her message was getting through and she let up in the lecturing.   

“But since you’re up we might as well get you some food After which we can go for a little walk around the pool for some fresh air.” 

There was a mute nod in response and Kayo was assisted back to her feet. Grandma took her arm and smiled, looking rather pleased that she’d managed to wrangle the security specialist   

“Oh and luckily for you,  we are going to be having a visitor on the island soon.  Doctor Coxley suggested we consult a nutritionist that specializes in pregnancies so Lady Penelope is looking into some for us.”  

“Lucky for all of us.”  Jeff muttered and blinked when he realized he’d said that out loud.   

Grandma shot him a look while Scott coughed to hide his chuckle.    

8-8-8 

TBC

NEXT

[photiniainsummer]

A Little Audience Participation Can Tip the Scales (1/?): The Lede

Genre: GenFic - Action, Mystery, Humor

Rating: Teen and Up

Story Summary: There’s a strange group living at the old Markiplier Manor.

They’re the villains of their tales, they’re looking for information, and they need your help putting Mark’s scattered egos back together to get their lives back.

And stop Mark and the Entity breaking reality.

Small goals.

(Second Person POV, vaguely fem-coded Reader)

Chapter Summary: The one where your cheeky coworker convinces you to check out the old Markiplier Manor with him.

Word Count: 5372

Author's Note: Decided to cross-post from my Ao3! The next three chapters are already up, and I try to post every Tuesday. :3

Interested?

Read on Ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30510852/chapters/75244647

The Lede

You watch amusedly from your desk as Jonah, your coworker-slash-mentor and partner in crime, comes bustling through the door to the reporters’ bullpen. He’s late, as usual, his half-open messenger bag slung across his rumpled self. Scribbled-on papers and even his laptop haphazardly jut out from the bag as he struggles to balance a breakfast sandwich on his thermos. Sometimes, all he had to do was exist to make you nervous. He starts to make his way across to you and your neighboring desks but is intercepted by the resident office mom for what she calls a “good old fashioned talking-to.” She’s always trying to tenderly bully him into being a better example for the junior reporters like yourself, although you have to wonder why she keeps it up despite its clearly limited efficacy. It’s not even that Jonah’s particularly stubborn - he’s just one of those people who, no matter how early he leaves home or how hard he tries, something just so happens to make him late. You can see how it would seem intentional, but you know Jonah’s too honest and, frankly, not creative enough to come up with the plethora of scenarios that conspire against him. You’ve just learned to tell Jonah to show up at least half an hour before you actually want him to.

Eleanor, however, is committed to whipping Jonah into shape. In the midst of her chiding, Jonah catches your gaze and pulls an awful face, startling a laugh out of you. Eleanor, of course, seizes on this and switches to berating him about listening when spoken to as you try to pull your attention back to scanning the morning news. He really knows how to dig himself in deeper, you think, chewing your lip to keep from laughing at the memory of his terrible expression.

“Don’t even start,” Jonah grumbles when he finally extracts himself from Eleanor’s chastising, sliding into his desk across from you. “You heard it, she already ran the full gamut this morning.” You give him your best shocked look.

“Who, me? No idea what you’re talking about,” you reply coolly, punctuating your tease by exaggeratedly returning to your work and clattering at your keyboard. “I was just going to ask how your morning went.” Jonah groans, but his lips tug upward in his typical crooked smile. At least he’d managed to shave without cutting himself this morning, you note.

“Ugh. Just because you were born able to wake up five minutes before your alarm doesn’t mean the rest of us were. Besides, I was up listening to the scanner.” Now it’s your turn to groan.

“That thing again? It’s barely legal for you to have one here, even Walker said as much.” Your boss and head editor had given Jonah his patented disapproving brow-furrow and pressed-lip combo when it had come up in conversation, but he hadn’t explicitly told the crime reporter to get rid of it, either. Jonah argued it kept him ahead of the curve on his beat, but with as many connections as he had, you suspected he used it more for the thrill of it than bettering his job performance. “What was so interesting last night, anyway? Any high-speed chases?”

“Not in our limits, unfortunately.” Jonah chuckles at your unamused expression, popping the lid on his thermos. “Kidding, come on. No, it was quiet last night, except… well.” He pauses, something changing in his expression. It’s enough to pull your attention away from your inbox. Jonah’s a goofball, but he’s a damn good reporter with a mind like a whip. He has to be, to be head of the crime division. So you take it seriously when he casts his eyes around the office before leaning in conspiratorially. His voice is hushed as he murmurs to you. “Someone called in that they saw a suspicious person skulking around the old Markiplier Manor.”

You immediately lose interest. That was news to him? The Manor had been abandoned as long as you had been alive, long since off the market after being passed from renovator to developer for most of its nearing-hundred year existence. Even with calls for it to be turned into some kind of museum, it had never been able to shake its grisly past or tendency for the strange. You’d heard the stories of the few historic maintenance crews dealing with randomly exploding lightbulbs and eerie spectres, disembodied voices and footsteps - but that’s all they were, stories. Stories from a creepy, old, run-down house on the edge of town. It was a hotspot for teenagers wanting to prove their guts - hell, you had even gone with a couple of friends back in high school, although you had been busted by a roving patrol car. You sigh at the memory of just how badly your mom had berated you about breaking curfew and fix Jonah with a disappointed look. He was immature at the worst of times, but you thought he’d at least be able to tell a lead from normal shenanigans. “That was exciting enough to make you late for the third time this week? You’re supposed to be a senior reporter around here, you know.” Jonah huffs, leaning forward on his desk and closer to you. He seems intent, despite your skepticism.

“Well, if you’d let me finish explaining, then you might know why such an on-time and dedicated individual such as yours truly would have let the time slip away from him,” he replies, sarcasm curling his tone. A quip rises on your tongue that he was the one drawing it out so much, but Jonah has a certain glint in his eyes. Something had his attention. You finally turn from your computer monitor and to face him, only slightly exasperated.

“Okay, okay. Listening.”

The man grins slightly and shifts his weight further forward on his elbows, keeping his voice down as he continues. “All right, so, PD gets this call from a neighbor that they saw someone wandering around on the property, yeah? They send an officer to check it out - of course, nobody’s around by the time he shows up. But the weird thing is… they found all the lights on inside.”

You blink, sure you missed something. “Like. Shop lights, right? There’s some construction crew working on it, or… they called in an appraiser and they forgot to turn them off.” Jonah shakes his head.

“Nope. Light fixtures. Every single one with a bulb in was blazing. And no crews or anything, I called the agency that owns the place. The last pro they had in there was over four years ago. There’s a security guard that checks it out regularly, but the power’s been off for years.”

You furrow your brow and sit in thoughtful silence for a moment, hunched and staring at your desk as you puzzle over the details. Jonah watches you intently while you think, taking the chance to work on his massive thermos of coffee, so strong you could smell it across your desks. He’d done this since you’d joined the paper, assuming the role of your mentor, at least informally. He would offer you the details of a story or curious anecdote that he’d started with and watch your mind run. You had always appreciated the exercise - it kept you sharp in dealing with local politics and its various mealy-mouthed players - and he appreciated getting a second pair of eyes on the issue at hand. Sometimes you picked up on things he hadn’t, ran rabbits he might not have. Working the inside of your cheek between your teeth, you roll the details over in your mind, hunting for another explanation as Jonah hunted for the bottom of his thermos. Something didn’t sit right with you about the details, but what?

Suddenly, you land on it, sitting up suddenly and turning to Jonah, who lifts his eyebrows at you. “The neighbor that made the call, did they mention the lights, or just someone wandering around outside?” His face breaks into a pleased smile, eyes dancing with the curiosity of the problem before the two of you.

“Nice catch. They didn’t mention the lights at all, just the trespasser.”

“So the lights got turned on between the neighbor making the call and the officer showing up.” Jonah’s smile turns into a real grin, cheeks split with it.

“Exactly. But why?” The other reporter leans back in his chair with a sigh. “That’s what kept me up, and made me late. Again.” He sips his coffee idly. “And it’s why I’m going to check it out for myself tonight.”

“What?” Jonah jumps in his chair with the volume of your exclaimation, quickly shushing you as he looks around in a panic. He can’t be serious, you think, but lower your voice. What is he being so low-key about? “No, Jonah, you absolutely can not go poking around some abandoned house.” He settles somewhat, content that nobody cast a glance your way after your outburst. Most of your colleagues are already out on assignments, anyway, given the later hour. But he’s determined, unfazed by your forbiddance.

“And why not? I’m just following a lead.” You open your mouth to protest further, but he interrupts. “Oh, come on, you aren’t a little curious to see what’s going on? What’s the harm, the cops just checked it out, it’s totally safe.” That gleeful glint is back in his eyes. How it thrills and infuriates you in equal measure.

“Seriously? Someone could be squatting there, and the cops just didn’t find them. Someone tapping a neighbor’s powerline and clearly not in their right mind, if they’re turning every light on in the place. Besides, even if it is empty, they could have a patrol posted on it now.” Jonah’s excitement begins to fade in the face of your barrage of facts. “If that agency still owns it, then it’s private, posted property, and you’d be actively breaking the law.” He sucks his teeth and slumps back in his chair, somewhat defeated.

“You’re no fun. Where’s your reporter’s spirit, your drive!” You turn back to your computer, shaking your head as you try to refocus on catching up with your inbox.

“Getting arrested for trespassing and/or breaking and entering isn’t ‘reporter’s spirit,’ Jo. You’re not Nancy Drew, you can’t just start poking your nose around abandoned buildings. It’s not safe.”

Jonah pauses for a moment, then gets an annoyingly knowing grin on his face. He leans forward again, good humor returning. “Ohhhh, so you’re scared is what I’m hearing.”

You huff in exasperation. “Literally how is that the conclusion you’re drawing from what I just said? I told you--”

“You’re the one who said ‘safe’! That means you think it might be dangerous and you’re scared.”

“Yeah, for your job and general well-being. Seriously, Jonah, I’m not scared of some abandoned house. Just because a couple of people happened to get murdered there--”

“Ah ah ah, they only found one body. The Mayor and the District Attorney were missing, assumed dead. Same for the killer.”

“Okay, Mr. Nitpicky. You you that’s even less scary, right? But, regardless, none of that makes the place inherently dangerous or scary. Hospitals aren’t scary, at least not like that, and people die there all the time.”

Jonah doesn’t immediately reply, giving you the opportunity to hammer out a reply to a scheduling issue and push your lunch meeting with the Senator back an hour. How did her assistant manage to double book her? you wonder as your reply zooms off. When you get the chance to look back to your coworker, he has a wry, sneaky little smile on his face. “What?”

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.” You shake your head. He really isn’t giving this up. “Fine, if you’re soooo not scared, then I dare you to come check it out with me tonight.”

“Absolutely not, did you forget about the illegal part? We aren’t kids, this isn’t just messing around after school. It could look bad for the paper, and you know Walker as well as I do - there’s no second chances.”

Jonah pauses. Mulling over your words, the threat of being fired. Then, “I’ll buy you dinner from that new Japanese place uptown.”

Visions of high-end sushi dance enticingly in your mind. Your stomach threatens to growl, with it being the end of the month and your bank account looking dismally light. Jonah always knows how to hook you, damn him. It doesn’t help that you knew from that look on his face that he knew you were already burning up inside with curiosity. The two of you were peas in a pod, and he had seen that since your first day at the paper. It was exactly why he’d gotten you set up as his desk neighbor, why he’d taken it upon himself to play mentor for you, probably why he was telling you any of this in the first place, despite how low-profile he clearly wanted to stay. You were going to be at that Manor tonight as soon as Jonah had heard the cop call in over the scanner. You sigh quietly through your nose, letting the decision sink in before you make it official.

“Fine. What time?” you ask, not looking away from your screen. Despite trying to ignore him, you could still see Jonah’s joyous fist-pump out of the corner of your eye.

What’s the harm in a little urban exploring, anyway? At least I’ll be there to keep Jonah from going too far with it, you muse to yourself, already planning your celebratory dinner.

What’s the worst that could happen?

---

Even after three years of working closely with Jonah Scott, you still managed to underestimate just how late he could be. You had agreed to meet at the foot of the Manor’s drive at Jonah-time 5:30, 6 sharp for normal people. However, it’s already pushing half-past with no apology text or update to speak of from the crime reporter. Wasn’t this his stupid plan? you mentally grumble, fruitlessly checking your phone again. At this point, your text conversation was fully one-sided, your messages over the last thirty-ish minutes taking up the entirety of your screen. With a defeated sigh, you flick the app shut and slide over to your ridesharing app. There doesn’t seem to be any reason to stick around, and with the sun setting quickly, like hell you’re going to willingly hang around the abandoned Manor longer than you have to.

As you scan available drivers, you consider just how to make Jonah pay for standing you up. You mentally upgrade your promised sushi meal straight into a sushi boat, and although you know you don’t have the heart to commit to such an egregious attack on his wallet, the thought brings a smile to your face. At the very least, you decide to charge him the cost of your rides to and from the massive property - the place is barely in the city limits, not to mention situated up a long road that only led into an almost equally long driveway. Your already light bank account was begging for mercy as you select a nearby driver. Of course it was surge pricing, to boot. The estimated ride cost is enough to make you pause and hope beyond hope that Jonah and his old jalopy were right around the corner. Maybe his phone had just died. Or maybe he was being a particularly safe driver and ignoring his texts. You decide to give it another couple of minutes, if just to make sure you had no other option but to pay through the nose for a ride home. With a sigh, you turn back towards the Manor itself, its exposed-rock exterior catching the burning sunset.

It doesn’t even look that creepy. Really, with the warmth of the setting sun, it almost looks inhabited, just in limbo between relying on daylight and its residents needing to turn the lights on for the evening. The grounds are well-maintained, too, likely thanks to a strict HOA. You figure that if neighbors are paying enough attention to report people wandering around the property despite how spaced out the houses are here, there’s likely a resident weed-measurer who complains as soon as the yard breaches an acceptable length.

That being said, the building itself barely looks like a home. Although you had brushed up on its appearance and floorplan online, images couldn’t prepare you for just how much it really looks like a castle. You knew its creator, Mark Iplier, had been a fabulously wealthy actor back in the day, building his first house to match, but good lord. There’s still such a thing as too much. It has turrets, for crying out loud. Not to mention Google Earth showed that the massive patio that wrapped around practically the entirety of the backside of the building was home to some kind of natural waterfall-looking pool and a life-sized chessboard. It had been impressive online, but in real life, the place is enormous to the point of ridiculousness.

I guess it matches its creator, then, you muse, considering what you had gleaned from a scan of a few biographical entries earlier in the day. He was a local legend, to be sure, but you had never learned more about him than surface stuff and the details of the murder case that had basically ended his career. Before all that, though, Mark had been the embodiment of every stereotype you could muster about early 20th century new-money creatives -- massive personalities with a penchant for equally massive parties. As beloved as he had been on stage and film, he’d been even more so in social circles, known for all-night ragers with massive multisection big bands, ample liquor even in the height of Prohibition, and occasionally the exotic animal or two. Famously, Mark had once arrived at a costume party on the back of an elephant, led by four retainers and dressed like a prince, swathed in silks.

In that context, the house seemed to make a bit more sense, although it had clearly seen better days. The paint on wrought-iron fence surrounding the grounds needs a fresh coat, peeled off in places; you can see a few shutters hanging lopsidedly from their hinges. It’s almost sad, the longer you look at it, especially knowing the revelry it had once hosted. Mark’s own life mirrored the place, as cliche as it was. After the incident, Mark never seemed able to recover. Even the few pictures you had found of him afterwards looked different - he seemed thinner, his eyes haunted, his smile forced. He’d appeared in a handful of films after the fact, but something had changed in him, and he ended up becoming somewhat of a recluse until his death. It was horribly tragic, really. Just trying to put yourself in his shoes had your throat tightening up a bit. Your childhood friend goes off the deep end and goes on a rampage out of nowhere with the rest of your closest friends as casualties - a freak incident right as you’re hitting your stride--

Suddenly, your phone breaks out into its ringtone, startling you out of your empathetic wallowing. You fumble the device in your hand just to keep a grip on it, cursing as you manage to maintain your hold. You check the screen - a local number, but you don’t recognize it. You answer anyway, crossing your fingers it’s not just a spoof call. “Hello?”

Jonah’s voice crackles through on the other end. “Kid! Hey, I’m so sorry-”

“You better have a damn good explanation lined up, Scott,” you snap, interrupting. “Where the hell are you?”

“God, I know, I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to get home for the last hour to call you. My car practically blew up in my face on my way home from work, and it must have been something electrical because my phone was connected and charging and got totally fried. It was kind of working for a second, but I just had to give up and come home in a taxi. I’m having to use an emergency landline, I can’t believe the damn thing even works.” The annoyance drains from your body, his tone so disappointed and clearly stressed that you can’t keep a hold on your frustration.

“Oh, Jo. I’m sorry. Are you okay, though? It didn’t shock you or anything, right?”

“No, thank god, no hospital bills on top of everything else. Look, I’m really sorry. Are you still out there?”

“Yeah, I was just about to get a ride home when you called.”

“Oh, awesome, so have you gone in?!” You scoff out of reflex, stunned at his emotional 180. If he was here, you’d give him a good pop on the head.

“What? No, Jonah, of course I didn’t go in! This was your plan, I was waiting on you to roll your goofy ass up this stupid hill. You’re lucky this place is out of the way, I bet the neighborhood association would have called the cops on me by now if the houses were any closer,” you grump down the line. Jonah’s laugh crackles on the other end.

“Lucky’s my middle name, especially today, right? Look, I know I already owe you big, but can’t you just slip in and take a look around? Like hell I’m gonna be able to afford getting a ride out there any time soon, and you’re already there… Just see if the door’s unlocked or something, look in some windows?” He’s really begging, now, and his tone melts your resolve. How does he do that every time? You sigh heavily, crossing your arms and peering up at the manor. Its large, dark windows stand out against the lighter stone as the sunlight truly begins to fade. They feel like eyes, looking down at you from the top of the hill. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“Jonah, you know I value you as a dear friend and colleague, but... Fine, look, this place is creepy, I admit it, I’m a chicken, I’m scared of the creepy murder house, can’t we just come back some other time when we’re a we and not just a me?” Although your rushed confession is half joking, it’s obvious Jonah isn’t fully engaged. He only gives a short laugh in response before you hear him shift the phone a bit, pausing. Thinking. It feels like an age before he speaks again, the crickets beginning their evening song in the interim.

Then, “Look, Vivian, I. I haven’t been straight-up with you. Yeah, the scanner was going off last night, but the truth is I’ve... been thinking about that place for months. Remember that puff piece about Mark, the retrospective Devontae put up a couple months ago?”

You shift your weight, turning away from the manor and its looming walls to focus on your friend’s voice. His tone had seriously shifted. This is Real Talk time. “Yeah, sure. The board killed it. It was weird, especially since it was his death-iversary, right? But… I dunno, Jo, that’s not enough to--”

“I talked with my friends at the Star, their board nixed a retrospective, too. So did the Inquirer, the Daily, and the Herald. Not to mention anything having to do with Mark for at least the last couple of years. I checked Walker’s record cabinet, too. Anything mentioning Mark, that night, his life after… hell, even the Manor, everything is heavily edited. Anything even adjacently referencing his existence is lucky if his name doesn’t get cut.”

You draw up short. A bit of concrete is loose underneath your feet, rocking slightly with you as you shift your weight from foot to foot. What is he getting at? “I mean. Yeah, okay, that’s pretty weird, but maybe… I dunno, maybe the board doesn’t want to bring up a dark moment like that, or more likely, they don’t wanna openly admit the town hasn’t been able to get their shit together about the Manor and make it into something other than an eyesore all this time later. You know at least half of them take board work as their victory lap after a glorious public service career,” you offer, laying it on thick. Jonah hums, considering it.

“Could be. But still, kind of a personal bent for an editorial board to take, no? Even for them. And it’s not just our board, it’s consistent across the papers.”

“But nothing that awful happened to warrant this. I mean, sure, his buddy killed a detective and presumably a couple of friends in his house, that’s sad, but… Mark wasn’t involved. He didn’t do anything, at least, nothing bad enough to make everyone decide it’d be better if he just didn’t exist.”

“Nothing that we know about,” he offers, quieter. Your blood chills.

“...you think something else happened? Something worse?” Jonah is silent for a moment. His next words are careful.

“Maybe. I don’t know. But I think what happened at the Manor has more to do with Mark than he wanted people to think, more than reports let on. And that, whatever really happened, it’s something bad enough that even now, this long after everything and even him passing over two decades ago, someone’s keen to keep it covered up.”

You’re quiet, mind reeling. You were a local, you knew as well as anyone that all of this stuff is treated more like an urban legend than true local history. It’s almost larger than life, at this point; you had heard the story told and retold a thousand times over until the telling itself was smooth and simple. Mark, fresh off a successful play’s run, had invited over his old university buddies for a night of good old fashioned revelry and reconciliation after years of petty disagreements had crescendoed with his wife cheating on him with his oldest friend, the Colonel WIlliam J. Barnum. However, little was resolved, and adding alcohol to the mix turned out to be deadly. Tensions between the group came to a head the next day, and the Colonel snapped. His rampage ended in the death of the city’s leading detective and, presumably, two of the original group’s members, although their bodies were never found, seemingly dumped in the woods behind the Manor. The Colonel’s attempt to cover up his crime left the others a chance to escape and alert the police, but the killer, too, disappeared, and was never heard from again.

It feels like a well-worn path in your mind. Nobody ever questioned Mark’s innocence in everything - it was assumed. He had just been there, equally terrorized by the killer as the other victims. But exact details had never emerged to the public, and Mark had been reticent to ever speak of things. The missing guests, too, were just so easily presumed dead at the hands of their friend, their mysterious disappearances more like eerie window-dressing on a ghost story than a suspicious hole in an otherwise tightly-woven story.

Maybe not so tightly, since now that you can see the holes, it’s hard to ignore them.

The tender inside of your cheek aches from your teeth worrying it, bitten raw. You swallow your thoughts for a moment, trying to return to the conversation. Jonah’s been equally quiet, letting you puzzle. “...and you think the Manor has some clue to that? To what might have… really happened?”

“...that’s my working theory. Mark left the place so quickly after everything, it’s still full of his stuff. He didn’t want anything to do with it, wanted to start fresh. Technically, the local historical society owns it all, now, but you know what their funding is like, so it’s all just sitting around. I figure, in his rush, he left something behind that can give us an idea of what we’re missing. Besides, reports of weird stuff happening there has been on an uptick.” You suck your teeth, feeling some of the edge of the conspiracy theory-laiden tension fade.

“Massive media blackout, I can run with. But, what, you think there are ghosts that have something to do with it?”

Jonah groans. “I never said ghosts, specifically, but… come on, kid, you have to admit it’s weird.”

“It’s practically a hundred-year old house, of course it’s weird - the wires are probably all way out of code and nobody’s been in the place in ages.”

“Okay, okay, maybe it’s a stretch,” he admits, retreating from the point. “I’m just looking for patterns. We don’t have a lot to go on, in terms of hard information. Which is why getting in there is so important.” He’s turning toward pleading again. “Please, kid, it’d mean the damn world to me if you’d just take a look around. I’ve got no idea when I’ll be able to get out there myself. I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate.” You know he wouldn’t, he’s always been considerate of your time and comfort. Really, Jonah is one of the best friends you’ve had, coworker element aside. It makes it horribly hard to say no to him. Which is why whatever reservations you’re still holding on to cave in the face of his honesty.

“...okay. I’ll go poke around. But you seriously, seriously owe me for this one.” You can practically hear Jonah smile on the other end.

“Seriously, I do. Thank you, kid, honestly.” He sounds relieved, taking a steadying breath. Was he really so worried you’d say no? “And take pictures if you see anything!” he quickly adds.

“Only if you call the cops if I don’t call you back in an hour. If there’s someone in there, Jonah, I--”

“Hey, hey, I promise. I’ll stay right by the phone. Cross my heart.”

You sigh quietly to yourself. “All right, I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, kid, and seriously. Thank you.” He sounds painfully sincere. You can’t summon up the spite to gripe at him anymore, so you let yourself be equally honest.

“I’ve got you, Jo. You know that.”

“Yeah. I know. Okay, I’m gonna let you go. Just be careful.”

“I will be.”

Then the line goes dead and your phone beeps dully before returning to your ridesharing app. You stare at it for a second, before you swipe up and close the app completely. No way you were going to chicken out now. Apart from Jonah’s confession, your mind was on fire. Sure, you could go home and just apologize to Jonah, but you know you’d be awake all night, tossing and trying to turn over the truth thanks to your limited information but unlimited curiosity. It wasn’t just his skepticism polluting your mind, either, there was definitely something missing from the narrative. Almost like the incident was too well-put-together, the reports from back then too careful with their words, what they didn’t say. Real crimes were messy because people were messy - their memories faulty, their behavior unpredictable and sloppy, even more so when under duress. But everything about the case and its retelling was clean. Neat.

It might as well have been wrapped up with a bow.

With nothing else between you and the Manor besides the peeling gate, you turn back to face its imposing exterior. Although the house had glowed softly in the setting sun, the rock reflecting the light so warmly, it had faded to a soft gray in the twilight. The windows are obviously dark and empty, now, their size exaggerated by the deepening of shadows as the sun slipped behind the horizon. You stare up at them, watching them back through the locked front gate from your tottering bit of pavement. You take another breath in, out. Then you square your shoulders and step up to the gate.

“It’s just a creepy old house,” you mutter, worming yourself between the wide bars. “Nobody inside, just a weird… big house. ” Nonetheless, a shiver goes down your spine when you’re through and the lawn stretches out before you and up to the front door. You crane your neck towards the nearest neighbor, but their windows were dark, too.

So why does it feel like someone’s watching you?

[kayteewritessteve]

Love and War - Epilogue

Description: In a harsh medieval world, you set out on a perilous quest that will lead you onto a forbidden land. A land ruled and controlled by a ruthless Warlord King, one who does not look favourably upon trespassers of any kind, and punishes all with an iron fist. You may not know exactly where this quest will end, but what you do know is you will forever be altered by it. And that knowledge alone is what truly terrifies you the most.

Catch up HERE.

Word Count: 10,400 ish. Craaaap. I did it again.

Pairing: Medieval!Steve Rogers x Reader.

Rating: PG.

Warnings: Violence. Curse words. Mentions of fears and potentially brutal medieval tactics. Most likely more to come down the road. Please don’t let these warnings scare you too much, give the story a try before you judge it.

A/N: I sadly don’t own any of these characters. And no beta reader either, so I do proudly own all these errors and this story, so there’s that.

This is a ridiculous fluff-fest and far too much information, so be ready for that and this is your fair warning that this is a beast of a chapter. Ha! Pun intended. So I hope you enjoy lovelies! And thank you for reading, reblogging and loving this story so much. That means the world to me!

The morning sun shines in through the sheer window coverings, splaying a stream of the soft glow across your face. It’s not enough to blind you, but enough to rouse you. Slowly peaking open your eyes, you take in the world around you. The first thing that you notice is the warmth and pressure across your bare back, and waist. Steve, Alarick, Ari, it doesn’t matter which name you use, they all stand for your husband. The man you love more than anything, or anyone, on any plane. Your true Mate.

His large arm is draped across you, your bare back pressed up against the soft, yet firm, skin of his wide chest. You feel the involuntary smile spread across your lips as your reality sets in. You are snuggled up to the only man you love, your husband. This is right where you want to be, for eternity. This is exactly how you want to wake and meet the day, everyday.

You shift slightly, enough to glance over your shoulder to peer at the beautiful God resting peacefully behind you. Your movement causes him to tighten his hold just a little, pulling your smaller form closer to his as a result.

Your eyes move slowly across his relaxed features, his luscious eyelashes resting upon his high cheeks, his chiseled jawline, his strong nose and beautiful, fair completion. Finally landing on your favourite feature—at least when he is asleep and his eyes are closed—his pouty, plump lips that belong to you, and only you.

You take another moment just to stare, just to really take him in, in his entirety. You want to stay like this forever, truly you do, you want to stay wrapped up completely in these sheets, and warm limbs. But the day calls for you to meet it, the birds chirping, the sun shinning, the slight murmur of voices outside in the distance. With a content sigh you begin to slowly and gently untangle yourself from the man you love, and somewhat reluctantly begin to climb from the bed. Gently lifting the arm draped across you as you slip out from beneath it and then lay his upon the warm bed. You keep your eyes on him as you go, hoping you can escape without waking him. You both had a long, and wonderful, evening and he could probably use the rest.

He sighs slightly as he rolls to his stomach and buries his face among the pillows, but he doesn’t wake.

You tiptoe away softly and grab the silk rob from the floor where it had been discarded the evening before. Slipping it on as you move towards the bath room, relieving yourself quickly before returning to the main room. Your eyes land on the larger than life form of your husband, his wide, bare back on display as the sheets cover only the lower half of his body. Though one of his large legs is sticking out from it’s confines and his arms cradle the pillow beneath his head. The sight alone of him blissfully resting causes another smile to grace your lips.

The glorious sun shinning in catches your attention and you make your way towards the doors. Pulling one open as you step out onto the balcony that just so happens to overlook the garden you adore so much. The garden that, now that you have your memories back, you realize closely resembles the one you had in Mytikas. They have a striking resemblance to each other, and you are sure it was planned that way, entirely. You are positive Ari build these gardens as a way to give you a piece of home, to make you feel more at home here. Now that you remember, your reasoning behind loving the garden so much makes perfect sense. Even in your spellbound mind, something told you that the garden was safe, was familiar, was your sanctuary. You loved it even more now, as you recalled all the times you enjoyed your first garden. The very place you first officially met your Ari, after years of admiring him from afar.

You stepped through the stone archway into the little area of the heavens for which you called your own. The lovely floral scents lingered in the air around you, and you inhaled them deeply, allowing them to soothe you. This little space is where you felt the most at home, the most like yourself.

You built, grew and nurtured this little haven to be your place of refuge, your place to seek calm and inner peace. To acquire solace in your times of need. It was your sanctuary, among other things, and you relished every moment you spent here. Be it just taking in the beauty, sketching the flora and occasional passerine birds, and sometimes even enjoying the company of your closest confidants and friends.

Though that last one was few and far between, you didn’t like sharing your asylum with others. And if someone did enter this area without your consent, it was always just because they were seeking you out and knew exactly where you’d be hiding. But that didn’t happen often either, most knew to leave you be in this place. That if you were here, you didn’t wish to be disturbed.

But all of that changed on that crucial day, as you ventured deeper into your colourful haven, you noticed instantly that you weren’t alone there. Your ears perked up to a distinct scratching sound, one not foreign to your senses. One that could only be made by a pencil meeting stiff parchment.

You peeked around, curious, but more so slightly angered by whoever would dare to enter your haven, both uninvited and unannounced. You would gladly inform them of their impudent intrusion and lack of good sense. How dare someone encroach on your space? Who did they think they were, Athos?

As you quietly made your way towards the noise, using a large rose bush to hide you, you peeked out at the culprit. And the moment your eyes landed on him, you took a sharp intake of breath and quickly shifted back behind the bush, afraid he might have seen you.

He was the very last person you ever expected to have seen there, in that place of solace. But as you thought on it more, you realized that who better to seek refuge in a serene place such as that, than the God of War himself? If anyone should have been allowed to enjoy your haven, it should have been him. The many horrible things he had probably seen and endured, you couldn't even begin to imagine. That made a grip of sadness take hold on your heart, and all you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him in any way that you could.

But you didn’t know him, you had only ever admired him from afar. And admired him you had, to a great extent and for long periods of time. It was bordering on dastardly, if you were being honest.

You peered around the bush, allowing yourself a more thorough look at the man of your desires, the perfect male specimen for which you had fantasized and dreamed about more times than you’d have cared to admit, but yet the only being you’d feared approaching the most. You idolized him and all he’d accomplished, you held him in such high esteem and regard, that you feared he’d never live up to your imaginations of him. And speaking to him, in the flesh, would only have proved to disenchant your notions of the man behind the armour.

That and the fact that just being in the same area as him had always caused you to be a flustered, mumbling mess, and that was very much unlike you. You’d never gotten frazzled by anyone, let alone a man. You were the Goddess of Love, for crying out loud, enticing and rendering others to be attracted and drawn to you, was in your blood, your nature. It came naturally to you, sometimes even without your own knowledge.

But this man, this God, he disarmed you, and left you a powerless and pitiful version of yourself.

Your eyes drifted slowly over his large imposing form, drinking in the very sight of him. From his large thighs, to his broad shoulders, to his impressive arms and finally, the pièce de résistance, his eternal and unwaveringly beautiful face. His eyes that resembled a sea during a storm, his jaw that rivalled the sharp lines and strength of diamonds, his hair that resembled the golden hue of wheat on a summer's day, and finally his plump lips that left you breathless and longing to feel them upon your skin. He was perfection personified, and just being in his presence left you a weak, muddled mess.

You took a deep, shuttering and silent breath, then released it out slowly as you focused your attentions onto what exactly he was doing there. You’d noticed the sketchbook upon his lap, and the pencil clasped delicately in his hand, and then your eyes had drifted up and noticed the slight furrow in his brows, as if he had been entirely focused and lost in his actions.

The realization that he was an artist, such as yourself, was enlightening. To say the least. You never would have pegged him as such, he’d seemed far too brutish and masculine to ever have partaken in something so dainty and studious. You had clearly misjudged him, seen the cover and assumed you knew what the inside held. You’d never been more pleased to be proven wrong, and would happily take that as a life lesson to never judge a book by it’s cover. Especially where the God of War was concerned.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare, or are you going to come join me?” his deep, delectable voice dominated the quiet space. And had caught you completely off guard, you were sure you’d been as silent as a mouse? How had he heard you? He hadn’t even so much as glanced up at you yet, he just kept his eyes and focus on the parchment in his lap. You furrowed your brows, as a warm blush had taken over your cheeks. How embarrassing to have been caught gawking at him like a love-stuck teen. But what had given you away? How had he known you were there?

With a deep breath in, you stepped out from behind your hiding place and moved a little closer to him, keeping your eyes down in shame. “I apologize, Alarick, I didn’t mean to intrude upon you.”

You heard, more than saw, him shift, and your eyes slowly raised to peer through your lashes at him, noticing that he was looking directly at you. “I believe it is I who has intruded upon you. This is your sacred space, after all,” he stood and took small steps towards you. And your heart had skipped a beat at the close proximity to him. “I would apologize for outstaying my welcome, but I am not at all sorry for the ethereal beauty for which now greets me. Had I left earlier, I’d have truly missed out.”

Your traitorous heart had skipped another beat, and words seemed to have escaped you in that moment. You dropped your eyes to the ground again, as one of your free hands had come up to tuck some wayward tendrils of hair behind your ear. A nervous action for which you hadn’t partaken in, in a very long time. What was this man doing to you?!

Two feet entered your vision, as two warm fingers gently appeared under your chin, delicately lifting your face upward. You met his eyes and the warmth within them caught you off guard again. “Don’t hide from me, you have no reason to hide. You are Y/N, the Goddess of Love. You bring entire armies of men to their knees with just a look. You embody everything that is lovely, pure and powerful in this world. You evoke envy, desire, or longing from all beings, and therefore you bow to no one. You cower away from no one, especially me. It is I who should be bowing to you.” His eyes slowly traced your face, your every detail and feature, “you are a moon among mere stars, always remember that.”

You nodded dumbly, his words continued to leave you entirely speechless and dazed. That action was rewarded with a deep and sensual chuckle from the large God that had been before you. And without your consent, your eyes had dropped down to watch as his lips slowly quirk up into a seductive grin before meeting his eye once again. But luckily for you, his laugh had helped to free you from your frazzled state and you’d slowly taken a step back, clearing your throat as you did. “Thank you for your kind words, I shall keep them in mind for the future.”

“As I hope you do,” his grin only grew as he fully took in your obviously flustered state.

Changing the atmosphere suddenly seemed like a very smart idea indeed. You glanced passed him at the discarded sketchbook, “I didn’t know you enjoyed drawing. What were you working on?” You glanced back to him, curious as to the hidden depths of this man.

He glanced over his shoulder at the sketchbook then back to you, and you could see that the tables had turned and he was the nervous one all of a sudden. A large hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, “just something that captivates me.”

His cryptic answer had left you even more curious, you went to step around him to move towards the bench, gesturing to the book, “may I see?”

He quickly beat you to the bench and picked up the sketchbook, closing it and clasping it firming in his hand, at his side. “It’s not that great, and it’s done yet.”

“That’s alright,” you smiled encouragingly, “I understand. I don’t like to show my unfinished work either.” You took a seat on the bench and patted the spot beside you, “I was planning to draw as well, care to stay and keep me company? I promise not to look at your work until you choose to show me, but you must promise the same in return.”

He smiled and moved to sit beside you, “of course, and I promise.”

You both settled in, as a comfortable quiet filled the air and you focused on your individual pieces, you’d normally prefered to be alone when you sketched, but something about having Alarick there with you, left you all warm and fuzzy inside. You could have easily gotten used to that, he had such a calm presence about him, which was rather odd considering who he is, and what he stood for.

After a little while, a lingering question nagged to be asked. It really wasn’t that important, but once again, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. “Alarick?” You softly probed, easing you both out of the silence, gently. “May I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up to meet your eyes, a small patch of his hair had fallen over his forehead as he did. “Of course.”

“How did you know I was watching you?” You raised a question brow at him.

He smiled, and it was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, “I’m not the God of War for nothing, I can always tell when someone is sneaking up on me.” His fingers brushed back the wayward strands as he lowered his head, and focused back on his sketch. And you believed that to be the end of his words, but then he’d whispered softly, as if the admission hadn’t actually been meant to be let out. “Plus it is nearly impossible for me to ignore your presence, no matter how hard I may try.” He sighed deeply, as if he was tirelessly weighed down by his revelation, “the very moment you enter a room, I am profoundly aware of it.”

“You are very open with your words, it’s rather refreshing,” you smiled, glad that courage was clearly another one of his traits, as without it, you’d have never learned how he felt.

“I have nothing to hide,” he shrugged. “At least not where it pertains to you.”

You placed a hand gently on his forearm, drawing his attentions back to you. “If it’s any consolation, I feel the same ways towards you. Your mere presence alone leaves me a babbling and flustered mess.”

He grinned, seemingly happy with your confession, “is that the reason for why you’ve never approached me before? Why we’ve never spoken so much as a single word to each other, until today?”

You nodded, “that’s my reasonings for it. Are they yours also?”

He chuckled, nodding his head, “yes, they are, among a few others, as well.”

“Such as?” You inquired, playfully.

He just gave you a playful look in return, “I can’t spill all my secrets at once, or else you’d have no reason to see me again.”

“Well, we can’t have that now, can we?” You giggled quietly.

“No, we can’t,” he adamantly shook his head. “Not now. Not when I’ve finally gotten my Moons attention.”

You felt the blush as it swept over your features, at the same time that you grinned like an insane person. “Well, the jest’s on you, because you always had it.”

That earned you a deep, booming laugh from the tower of a man near you. And from that day on, you no longer regarded your garden as your solitary sanctuary, you no longer loathed company within its stone walls—well, you no longer disliked the company of one person, and one person only. Because now your haven felt cold and lonely without the warm presence of the beautiful God beside you.

You both would meet every chance you got in that very garden, and it was on one of those many meetings that he presented you with the sketch he’d been working on that first day. And it turned out to be a stunning picture of you that he’d drawn mainly from memory. You cherished it immensely for centuries to come.

Then over the following time together you learned all about the man under the armour. And it goes without saying that you fell head over heels in love with him, even though you believe you’d loved him even before this pivotal day. And every one to follow only cemented that love so deep into your bones that nothing could eradicate it from your very being. And you feared that without your love for him, you’d become frail and shaky, and unable to stand under your own freewill or power.

Some might see a love this strong as a weakness, as a codependency that only stands to strip you of your vigor. But it was the polar opposite of that, he strengthened you, he completed you. He made you a more indestructible and resilient you.

Because who better to love so deeply and wholeheartedly, then the Goddess of Love herself? And who better to fortify and embolden, then the God of War himself?

You both stood to better the other in an unwavering way. A perfect match, one they’d write about for centuries to come. A love so deep and lasting that others would strive to attain even a mere sliver of it.

A feeling of warmth directly behind you brings you back to the present, just as two large hands slide around your waist and pull you flush against a solid form. Ari.

One of his hands begins to slowly move up the front of you, ghosting through the valley of your chest and coming to rest at your chin. Where he gently shifts your head a little to gain access to your neck, which you willingly give. Closing your eyes as you relax back into his larger form.

He presses a soft kiss on your shoulder, then on the seem of your neck, and then finally just below your ear, which causes a content sigh to leave your lips as a warmth spreads throughout your body. This man does things to you, exceptional and delicious things.

“Good morning, My Moon,” he murmurs softly against your skin. “You worried me when I woke up and didn’t find you beside me.”

You exhale, opening yours eyes and taking one final look at the garden he gifted you. Then you stand up straight and shift around to face him, wrapping your arms around his waste as his move up to rest around your shoulders. You take in a deep breath of the glorious smell that is known to you as just simply Ari.

“I’m sorry, My Love,” you lean forward as kiss the space between his bare pecs before resting your cheek upon his warm and solid chest. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

His arms tighten momentarily around you, as if to assure himself that you are here and in his arms. “It’s okay, the view I was met with was well worth the worry,” he murmurs as he nuzzles into your neck.

You giggle quietly, because you know he is talking about you, standing on the balcony in only a small, thin silk robe, looking entirely sated and satisfied. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I don’t think so,” he quickly says, as his hands start to wander around your smaller form. “I know so.”

You smile to yourself at his words, and as much as you want to fall back into bed with this large soft man of yours, you know if you do that neither of you will leave this room the whole day through. So as hard as it is, you slowly detach yourself from his glorious embrace and glance up at him. Not missing the small pout now upon his lips, though you know he is only playing it up. “Now none of that,” you giggle, pointing at his lips. “We have much to do today, and if we start that now, we won’t leave this room till nightfall.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he grins, raising a brow at you. “Sounds like a perfect way to spend a day.”

“I would agree with you there, but you have work to do and I have a few things I need to see to, as well,” you say as you step around him and head back into your shared room. “Plus the ladies will be here soon to help me dress, I’d think them all very scandalized to walk in on that,” you grin over your shoulder at him as you venture over to the door to grab your breakfast.

With how things between you and Ari have been, you’ve barely left the room since you’ve been reunited, so your meals are brought up and left on a tray outside your room for whenever you are in a state to eat. Much like now, for instance.

You creak open the door to the hall, finding the tray directly outside it and pulling it into the room. Once you’ve brought it over to the couch, because you are smart enough to know that going anywhere near the bed will result in neither of you leaving this room today, you take a seat and place a napkin on your lap. Then once settled you glance over at your husband who is still standing on the deck, but with his back to you as he also admires the view, “hungry, darling?”

He chuckles and turns to face you, before he slowly makes his way over to you,. “I am, but not for food.” The grin on his face is the cheekiest thing you’ve ever seen, and you’ve known this man for centuries.

You snort, which is very unladylike but you can’t help it. “You’re insatiable, and that’s saying a lot coming from the Goddess of Love,” you laugh and shake your head as you focus back on the food in front of you. Trying your damnedest to not look at his half naked form or that sexy grin too long, as you know if you do, all reasonable thought will escape you and you will gladly agree to anything he desires. Without so much as a second thought.

“Only where you’re concerned. I just always want to have my hands all over you,” he sits down beside you on the couch, his large, warm body right up against your smaller one. “I still can’t believe you’re here. And I’m not ready to share you just yet, let alone have you leave my side,” he sighs then grabs some food and places it on a plate for himself.

You frown a little at his words, you can’t imagine all he went through while you were missing. You were lucky enough to have slept through the whole thing, then when you finally did rise, you remembered nothing. Ari didn’t have that luxury, he felt and lived through the whole ordeal. He knew you were gone, he missed you deeply, and beat himself up for not only losing you, but for his inability to find you. That couldn’t have been an easy place for anyone to be, let alone the God of War himself.

You place a hand on his forearm, drawing his attention to you, “I know, My Love, and I’m so sorry for all that you had to endure,” you hesitate, wondering if you should move forward with your line of thought. You’d avoided this topic all week for fear it would sully the mood. And because you weren’t entirely ready to hear it, as you just wanted to focus on being with Ari and living in that moment, fully and entirely. But your curiosity always wins out eventually. “Will you tell me about it? About how it all came to pass, for you?”

He sighs, side eyeing you for a second while he finishes chewing his food and then he sets his plate down. Reaching over for you, he tugs you gently into his lap, and you end up straddling his hips. But you aren’t at all surprised, you figure he needs to be touching you entirely in order to relive this story.

Your hands wrap around his neck, and you bury your fingers into his hair, stroking the soft strands languidly to help put him more at ease.

He sighs again, but in content this time, before he murmurs, “where do I even start?”

You figure it’s less a question for you, and more him trying to build himself up, but answer it anyways. “Start with your talk with Athos.”

He shakes his head, chuckling softly, “he was livid. Beyond so, actually. But his opinions on us or our union hold no weight with me. We fought, and in the end I informed him that it was done and you were mine, and nothing he said mattered. Then I left and went back to your room,” he trails off and you lean forward to kiss his forehead.

He gives you a small smile, his hands aimlessly rubbing your back, as he leans forward and places a quick, chaste kiss upon your lips. “When I returned, you were nowhere to be found,” he takes a shuttering breath, just the memory alone clearly hurting him immensely. “I searched for you, I ripped the Heavens apart to find you. And when that endeavour proved fruitless, I fell from the Heavens and began to tirelessly search the mortal plane. Harlin, Premala, and The Graces came with me. They had all helped in my scouring of Mytikas, and they all chose to fall with me in my pursuit of you.“

A wave of immense love crashes over you, these 6 people of whom mean the world to you, all chose to leave behind their lives to find you. To search for you. You’ve never felt more loved, or cherished then in this exact moment. And that’s saying something with the sweet and romantic man currently below you, who never ceases to go out of his way to show you just how much you mean to him.

“We spent centuries looking for you,” he glances around slowly, “this kingdom started as merely a base camp. Somewhere to reconvene and plan a new course of action after our most recent efforts had failed. It was just a few small structures and tents in the beginning.” He looks back to you, “after a few centuries, we figured more permanent dwellings would be smart. So we build this castle and everything around it followed in the coming years. I was reluctant to build this place at first, I wasn’t ready to admit that I still hadn’t found you, and that I might never find you. Putting up permanent walls meant I’d failed, meant I knew I’d continue to fail you. I wasn’t ready for that,” he cups your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your cheek bone. “But Premala beat it into me that when we did find you, because we would, that you’d need somewhere to return to. That you’d need a home to call your own, because returning to Mytikas wasn’t really an option anymore. Not with Athos’ outrage for our union, and Hepha’s scheming. It wouldn’t have been safe to return. So I finally conceded and we began to build the next day.”

You smile, “how did the Lycans come to be?”

Steve chuckles, “that’s actually a funny story. I was out searching one day, and had stumbled upon a pack of wolves. They hadn’t noticed me, and I proceeded to watch them, I ended up watching them for weeks and noticing how they worked together. How they tracked and hunted their prey as a team, how they had a hierarchy that they respected deeply. It gave me an idea, but I just needed help executing it. So I summed Amaris for help, I told her of my idea and she jumped at the chance to help. She’d been worried by the news of your disappearance and with every passing century she also grew more and more distraught, by the lack of progress. She couldn’t help in the search efforts herself, but she gifted me the army I needed. She created and gave life to the very Lycan that builds up this kingdom. They are immortal, they never age, and if left alone they will walk this plane for eternity. However, all powerful things need a weakness of some sort, or they would stand to destroy the balance. So they can be killed by force, but it’s not an easy feat and most would never even be able to get close to beating a Lycan in battle. Let alone killing one. They are truly the perfect soldiers,” he chuckles. “She then transformed myself, Harlin, Premala and The Graces into Lycans as well, so we could not only keep up with them, but also control them and partake in the mind link that they all shared.”

You smile, at both the story and the thought of Amaris, The Goddess of the hunt, the forests and mainly the Moon, helping in Ari’s efforts to find you. She is a dear friend to you, more like a sister and it warms your heart to know she jumped at the chance to aid in the search efforts. Even if not with her own body, but instead with her gifts, the point still stands. “How is Amaris? Does she know you’ve found me?”

“She is good, from what I hear,” he smiles, “Premala sent word to her that you’d finally been found, unharmed and well. She sends her regards and well wishes. And plans to visit us soon,” he grins widely, “once we get our centuries worth of ‘carnal needs’ are out of the way, and are actually willing and available for company.” He shakes his head, mirth dancing in his eyes, “Her words, not mine.”

You laugh at that, she knows you both so well. “She would say something like that.”

The laughter dies down and only one part still sits unanswered in your mind, “and what of the amnesia?”

Those words kill the mirth in his eyes, making way for an overwhelming pain and regret to take hold. Your fingers continue to stroke his hair, shifting yourself a little closer to him and resting your cheek upon his shoulder, in every effort to comfort him.

He sighs and his arms tighten around your waist, “after so long of searching for you, and all my efforts coming up empty. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was becoming hopeless and distressed. I started to get more snappy with everyone, I hardly stopped searching, barely slept, and could not focus on anything other than finding you. I had horrific mood swings, and had slowly become more and more violent with everyone around me. But I refused to listen to anyone, not even Harlin.” He shakes his head, “it wasn’t until I’d almost killed an entire innocent village that I finally saw how far I’d fallen. I couldn’t continue on the way I was, but I couldn’t give up on finding you either.” He leans back slightly and you do the same, he cups your cheeks, holding you still as his eyes drift all over your face. After a moment of that, he leans forward and kisses your lips sweetly, before resting his forehead on yours. “So Premala set out to track down a powerful sorcerous that she’d heard about in her travels. We weren’t sure if she was real or merely a legend, but she managed to track down the coven that she hailed from and learned she’d vanished centuries earlier. However, there were two other witches that had nearly the same powers as Medea. One of which was her daughter, who had also disappeared around the same time that Medea did—“

You lean back abruptly, cutting him off, “Wanda.”

He nods, “yeah. The other was Medea’s apprentice, a woman by the name of Maria. Premala was able to gain an audience with her, and told her of our story and the issues that were arising because of it. And Maria offered to help, though she asked for a favour in return.”

“What was it?” You hesitantly ask.

“Nothing bad, My Moon,” he soothes, rubbing your back. “I just had to swear on the lives of every one of my Lycans that we’d never harm a single witch, unless they attacked us first. We were to keep them safe and protected for eternity. We agreed to her terms and she casted the spell to make every one of us forget. Though I didn’t want to entirely give up on you, I requested that she give me some sort of way to recognize you. Some sort of queue to tell me you were important to me, and some way to allow me to continue to search for you. Yet it wouldn’t become my only thought.”

“Mates,” you say slowly, piecing it all together in your mind.

“She created the Mates bond for all Lycans, as a thank you for the years of service my Lycans would dedicate to protecting her kind. That was easy for her to do, by tapping into the souls of each Lycan and linking them. However, as Gods, we don’t have souls. So she came up with an idea to make it work for us. And thanks to the help of one of your dresses, that Premala had used to give the Lycans your scent. Maria was able to use your scent to link us, so as soon as I picked up on your smell, it would trigger the ‘Mates Bond’. But we needed something to break the spell once we finally found you, a way to return all the memories to us. A word that would act as the key.”

You nod, softly saying, “my nickname for you.”

He nods back, “yes, I figured when I did finally find you, that you’d likely call me that right away. Then the spell would be broken and all would be returned.” He shakes his head now, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest, “I never expected Hepha to have wiped your memories as well. If you hadn’t managed to get them back, the spell never would have been broken.” He furrows his brows and looks deep into your eyes, “I can’t imagine never remembering our lives before. The first time I saw you, the day we met, and all the days to follow.” His hand caresses down your head, and to the ends of your hair, where he proceeds to twist a small section of your hair gently around his finger, as he watches the action closely. Then his eyes flick to yours, “I’m so glad you remembered. I’m so glad you freed us all, but most importantly, I’m so glad that you found me. All the years I searched for you, and in the end, it was you who rescued me.”

You smile, leaning forward to press a loving kiss to his lips, “I’ll always rescue you, My Love. Just as I know you’d do for me.”

“Without even a second thought,” he murmurs, pulling you into him more.

You give in to his whims for a moment before pulling back abruptly, “wait, but why the name changes?”

He chuckles, “we figured it would be a little odd to keep the Godly names. And if I kept mine, we ran the risk of someone else shortening the name and accidentally breaking the spell. I didn’t want a single other person calling me Ari, not until you did. So I opted for the name change, and the others just decided to follow suit,” he shrugs.

“Makes sense,” you smile sweetly, “but mark my words, if another ever calls you Ari, I may have to borrow Premala’s alter ego, Dabria, for a day or two.” You warn half playfully and half honestly.

This elicits another deep and glorious laugh from the man below you, “don’t worry, My Moon. No other would dare call me that, unless they wished to have the wrath of two Gods thrust upon them.” He kissed the tip of your nose, “Your nickname for me is safe, and only for your lips.”

You giggle, but just as you are about to speak a knock on the bedroom door kills those words in your throat.

“Well, looks like they found us,” you giggle as you climb off Ari’s lap and fix your robe. But before you can say anything more, Alarick stands and shields your half naked form from the door with his own.

“Come in,” he says gruffly. Clearly cranky for the interruption.

Harlin opens the door and locks his eyes on Alarick, not glancing around the room at all. You figure it’s to make sure he doesn’t see you in whichever level of dress you may currently be in. “Sorry to bother you, Alarick. But we need you to see to a few pressing matters.”

Ari nods, “okay. I’ll just get dressed and meet you in my office.”

“Thank Gods,” Harlin sighs out quietly. But you don’t miss it. “I don’t know how to do this every day, dealing with all these whiney people and their bullshit is fucking exhausting,” he adds in a mumble before shaking his head and leaving the room, closing the door behind him softly.

You and Ari lock eyes and then burst out laughing. “The poor baby,” you say in a mocking coo, shaking your head. “One week and he is already fed up.”

Your husband chuckles, “he is going to be so angry when I inform him that I am relinquishing half of my duties to him and Premala.”

“What?” You freeze, wide eyed and gaping, “you are?”

He smirks and steps towards you, gently closing your dropped jaw with his fingers under your chin, then kisses you on the top of your head. “I am. I threw myself into all the work as a distraction, even without realizing that’s why I was doing it. But now that I have you back, I want to have some free time to get to actually be with you. So Premala and Harlin will take over to help rule the kingdom, and allow me more time to do other,” he gives you a full once over, “more important things.”

You giggle, blushing deeply at what he just implied. It doesn’t matter how many centuries you spend with this man, or how many nights you find yourself tangled up in him, or how many times he compliments or flirts with you. Your reactions to him never change, they never cease. He will never fail to fluster and frazzle you, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But right now, you both have things to attend to, so you gently push him away, pointing a stern finger at him. “Keep those hands, eyes and compliments to yourself, Mister. Now go get dressed, no more distracting me.”

He smirks, putting his hands up in submission, “fine, fine. But I make no promises about my eyes, those have a mind of there own,” and as if to prove his point, they drift languidly over your whole form. “They are completely out of my control.”

You gasp playfully, pretending to be scandalized as you try to cover yourself more with your flimsy silk robe. “How dare you, Sir! I am a lady! And I am shocked and appealed by your wandering eyes!”

He laughs but it quickly makes way for a possessive and slightly dark glint to fill his eyes, “oh, I’m well aware that you’re a lady, and I can show you exactly how I know that fact, if you’d like?”

And before you can even blink he playfully lunges towards you to grab for you. You shriek and quickly dodge he incoming hands, as you run to the bath room and slam the door in his face, throwing the latch in place quickly.

His glorious laugh filters through the door. “This puny door won’t protect you from me, My Moon. I could huff and puff, and blow this thing down, in mere seconds.”

“But you won’t,” you quickly interject. “Because you have to get dressed. Very important matters to attend to, and what have you.”

He chuckles once more, “you are correct. You are safe for now, but later tonight is a different matter entirely.”

“Then I shall look forward to tonight.”

After a few minutes of hiding in the bath room, the sound of your door opening and closing signals that the coast is clear. You quietly open the door and peek out, noticing that you are, in fact, now alone in the room. You exhale a deep breath and venture out into the main room, but just as you do, an abrupt cluster of knocks make you jump.

You pull the robe tighter around you, “Come in.”

The door creaks open and then 3 faces you’d recognize anywhere appear before you. The 3 Graces, your handmaidens and closest confidants—Well, besides Premala.

The 4 of you just stand there, silently staring at each other, but after a moment the 3 ladies surge forward and engulf you in a warm and tight embrace. The abrupt impact causes a boisterous and joyful laugh to rip from you, as tears well up in your eyes.

“We missed you so much,” Aalin or Pepper says, leaning back to take you in.

While Edden, or Hope, wipes the stray tears from her eyes, and affirms Aalins sentiments, “so much.”

You giggle as you notice that Tyranna or Hilde is still wrapped around you, refusing to release you from her death grip. She glances up at you from your place, and warns, “if you ever vanish on us like that again, there will be hell to pay.”

You shake your head, chuckling a little more at her attempt to be stern and menacing. “I promise to never disappear again,” you kiss the top of her head, “well, as much as I can promise given that it wasn’t my choice to leave in the first—“

“Shh!” she cuts you off. “Let’s just leave it as you will do your best to keep that promise.”

“Of course,” you grin down at her as she finally detaches from you. You take a moment to just look over the 3 beautiful women before you, “I’m so sorry I didn’t recognize you three.” You sniffle as a wave of guilt overcomes you, wiping away the few fallen tears.

“You owe us no apologies, Y/N,” Aalin starts, moving forward to grasp your hand in hers. “We didn’t recognize you either. We were all under spells to forget.”

“Yes,” Edden nods in eager agreement, taking your free hand in her own, “it is no ones fault. The point is we all remember now.”

“And we will never forget again,” Tyranna finishes vehemently, as she finishes the link by taking Aalins and Eddens hands in her own, and creating a full circle.

You smile, your heart feeling so full thanks to the three lovely, and amazing women before you. “I can’t believe you all fell for me. I can never thank you enough.”

“And we’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Aalin affirms and the two others nod in agreement.

“Okay, no more tears,” Tyranna says, “let’s get you dressed.”

And with that, the three ladies set out to prepare you to meet the glorious day.

Just as the girls are finishing up there is a knock on your door, Edden goes to open it and finds Sam standing behind it. He smiles at the ladies, who quickly say their goodbyes, giving you a few final hugs and then they take their leave. Sam steps back to allow them out of the room and then he steps in, giving you a glorious, toothy smile. “Ready to finally get out of this room?” He asks cheekily.

And you can’t help it, you snort loudly at that. “I am. It will be nice to properly stretch my legs, and make sure you haven’t burned half the castle down in our absence.”

He scoffs, “that was one time! And it was only a set of drapes.” He crosses his arms, “really ugly drapes if I’m being honest, so I did this kingdom a service.”

You burst out laughing, Ari having told you the story of the day Sam nearly burnt the castle to the ground. “I heard it was an entire hallway,” you correct as you make your way towards the door.

He snorts, as he opens the door for you. “Well it’s not my fault they chose to have drapes decorate the whole length of the hallway. That’s just poor planning,” he laughs, shaking his head.

“I’d have paid good money to see your face as all of that was happening,” you laugh at the thought of it, as you both start to make your way down to the garden. Since being here, you no longer held this immense need to keep the gardens entirely to yourself. They had actually become a place of gathering, where you’d go and normally find others, or where they’d find you. You shared your sanctuary now, with all the people you love and care for.

“It was a rather funny day,” he concedes, “though I was sure Ste—“ he abruptly cuts himself off, groaning, “sorry, Alarick.” He shakes his head, “I was sure he was going to pop a blood vessel that day. And I’ve never seen,” he hesitates again, “Harlin, laugh so hard in my life. He’s never let me live that down, even to this day.”

“And I don’t think he will either,” you agree through a giggle. “You know, you don’t have to correct their names, right? We all know that you’ve known them almost exclusively as Steve and Bucky. No one will be offended if you continue go call them as such, and that we will still all know exactly who you are referring to, when you do.”

He nods, “I’m trying to get with the new names, but it’s hard. I spent centuries calling them those names,” he sighs, “not an easy thing to change after so long.”

You lay a gentle hand on his forearm as you both head down the stairs. “I know, and we all understand that. They aren’t bother by being called those names, and they still have moments where they call each other by the different ones. It will take time, but I like to believe both names are theirs now. They mark two very different and important times in their lives, and both of those personas deserve recognition for that.”

He nods, placing his hand over yours and squeezing gently. “Thanks, Y/N.”

“Anytime,” you smile up at him. “So how have you been?”

He grins, “amazing, actually.”

The silence that follows his admission leaves you curious, “care to elaborate on that?”

“I found my mate,” he says casually but the words cause you to halt your steps, forcing him to as well.

“What?!” You gap, wide eyed at him, “really?! But how?!”

His smile only grows, “after the almost battle against Hepha, a few of us were sent out to track down Brock. When we got to the town Hepha had essentially taken over by force, we tracked down Brock and along the way I stumbled upon her.”

“That’s wonderful news, Sammy!” You squeal in excitement, bouncing on the spot before lunging at him to give him a hug for which he returns. “I’m so happy for you! Where is she now?” You pull back to look up at him.

“She is here, but she isn’t a Lycan. So it is slow going, she isn’t sure how she feels about me just yet, but she knows she is drawn to me in some way. So only time will tell if she accepts me or not,” he shrugs nonchalantly but you can tell it’s a sore spot for him. You can’t imagine the feeling of rejection when a Mate doesn’t share your same feelings in return. Not that you are even fully aware of the extent of the Mate Bond to a Lycan, to begin with.

“If you want me to talk to her, I’d be more then willing,” you offer, starting to walk again.

“Really?” He looks down at you, eyes wide, “you’d do that for me?”

You scoff, “like that’s a surprise. You know I’d do anything for you, you nincompoop. If she wants to hear about all of this from another outsider, I’d be more than willing to tell her my side of the experience and help teach her all about Lycans, and their Mates.”

He grins, nodding his head slowly. “Thanks, Y/N. I’m sure that would help her immensely, and in turn would greatly help me.”

“No sweat,” you shrug, “so wait, you guys found Charandas?” You shake your head then quickly correct yourself, “sorry, you know him as Brock.”

“We did,” he nods, as you both reach the bottom of the stairs. “He is being held in the dungeon for questioning at the moment. Steve wants to find out where he stands on all of this, and if his loyalties to Hepha will cause him to seek him out and free him. As Brock is also a God, he can’t be killed either. So Wanda is on standby just incase we have to lock him away with Hepha.”

You nod, “that reminds me, how is Wanda? And Pietro?” You haven’t seen them since they vanished with Hepha on that pivotal day. “Are they well?”

You both make your way down the bright, windowed hallway, the final step before you enter out into the garden.

“They are well,” he informs, but just as you make your way outside his head gestures to something before you and you furrow your brows in confusion. “But I’ll let them elaborate on that themselves.”

At his words your eyes flick forward and land on your two siblings, standing among the lush flowers. You gasp and instantly release Sam’s arm, bolting forward to wrap them in a hug. It may have only been a week without them, but you missed them both dearly.

They both embrace you back, and after a few moments you all pull away. “How are you both?” You ask eagerly, your eyes moving back and forth between the two siblings. “Did anything exciting happen while I was hidden away?”

“We are good,” Wanda smiles, glancing over at Pietro.

The aforementioned nods and adds, “we are settling in well here. We returned home after locking Hepha away and packed up the house. Then we had everything moved here.”

Wanda nods, “yes, so all your things are here as well. We had them put in your old room, since we didn’t want to disturb you.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and laughs, and you join her.

“A week is hardly long enough to make up for centuries lost, but I was starting to get a little stir crazy being locked away for so long,” you chuckle. “You’d think with being eternal and all, that a measly week would seem like mere seconds to me. But that couldn’t be further from the truth. I guess all that time being locked away made me truly cherish the passing of it, in a completely new way.”

“That’s understandable,” Pietro agrees. “We all spent a very long time waiting for you to be freed. I guess we will all see time differently now.”

“And Hepha?” You question hesitantly, “he is gone for good now?”

“Yes,” Wanda nods, “he is locked away where no man or God will ever find him. I made sure of that.”

You hug Wanda and Pietro again. “I can’t thank you both enough for all you’ve done, and will continue to do, for me. I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for the two of you.”

“You don’t owe us any praises, Y/N,” Pietro starts, “we’d gladly make the same choices again and again, if it meant helping to free you. We both waited a very long time to be allowed to accomplish that task, and we feel blessed that we were given that distinct role in your life.”

You sniffle, his words impacting you greatly. You will never be able to understand how you got so blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful and beautiful people, but you won’t question it. You will just hang on to them for dear life and pray they are with you always. “Can I ask what happened to Medea?”

Wanda gives you a small smile as she leads the three of you over to a bench, and you notice now that Sam has vanished, must likely giving the three of you time and space to talk. Once you are all seated, Wanda begins to fill you in on their part in all of this.

“Once Hepha got what he needed from her, he killed her to ensure that no one aside from him and Charandas knew your whereabouts.”

You frown, you’d figured something like that had happened to her, but you’d hoped your thoughts were wrong, though now you know they weren’t. “I’m so sorry—“

“It’s not your fault,” Wanda cuts you off, scolding you just a little.

“Our mother was many things,” Pietro starts, grasping one of your hands. “But an oblivious victim was not one of them.”

Wanda nods, “as hard as it is for us to speak about it, she was wise beyond her years. Hepha didn’t even understand the true extent of her powers, he had only seen the surface of what she possessed. And she had known many years before he arrived, that he was coming. She knew her exact path in all of this, and she was well aware of the Fate that would befall her when it was all said and done.”

Pietro sighs deeply, “we begged her not to go through with it at first. To just run away with us and not allow the Fates to decide how her life should end.” He shook his head, “but she refused, and told us over and over again that, ‘this is all part of the prophecy, the Fates have chosen this path for us all and this is exactly as it should be,’ and that going against Fate won’t save us. It will just prolong the inevitable, but that to follow their plan willingly is a choice in and of itself. We could either cower away from our destiny, or embrace it with open arms and accept the true role we played in this life.”

“She was a very insightful woman,” you muse. “I may have only had the pleasure of meeting her once, but she left a beautiful impression on me that will never cease or waver.”

“She was a wonderful mother,” Wanda affirms. “Before she left to help Hepha, she passed most of her powers on to me, so that they wouldn’t be lost to her death. We didn’t realize at the time, but she had also linked us to you. So when she spelled you to forget, we forgot everything as well, and had no idea about any of this. We lived under the notion that we were orphaned and waiting till I could handle my powers before we settled down. But it turns out, I was just spellbound to protect us and we basically sat in limbo for centuries, until it was our time to rescue you.” She smiles at you, grasping your hand tightly in her own, “I believe she made us forget her and our lives before, so that we wouldn’t miss her. At least not till we had you in our lives and had someone else to look out for us and love us. I believe she did it to ease our grief and mourning.”

You nod, squeezing her hand in reassurance, and doing the same to Pietro’s hand that is still clasp in your other. “I believe that wholeheartedly.”

You pull them both into a hug and then the three of you proceed to lighten the mood, spending a few hours catching up and just being in each others presence. It felt like ages since the last time you’d just hung out with your siblings. And yes, you knew they weren’t your actual siblings, but regardless of blood, they would always be family to you. And you’d cherish them as such for centuries to come.

The sound of someone clearing their throat draws your attention away from the siblings and places it upon Sam, now standing a few feet away. “Sorry to interrupt the family reunion, but it’s nearing dinner time and I figured you’d all like to prepare for it.”

You gasp, “is it really that late already?” You glance between Wanda and Pietro, who both seem just as shocked by the fact that you’d spent an entire day in the garden together. My, how the time flies when you’re having fun.

“It is,” Sam chuckles at your bewildered states. “I can walk you all up to your rooms, if you’d like?”

“That’s quite alright, Sam,” Wanda smiles at him. “We’ve hogged up enough if her time. She’s all yours now,” she grins over at you, causing you to giggle. You say your goodbyes to the siblings, promising to spend more time like this with them. Now that life was calming down and levelling out, you could go back to some of your normal ways.

You part ways with them and begin to venture back to your room. The second they are out of sight, you can instantly tell Sam is bursting at the seems, so you simply open the door and allowed the flow of excitement out. Asking him to tell you more about his Mate, and that simple question propels him into a long and glorious monologue entirely about her, Elizabeth, and everything he knew of her thus far. You could barely contain your excitement for him, hanging on his every word.

And the fact he was telling you all about his Mate, wasn’t lost on you. You remember the talk you’d both had about Mates, and how sacred they truly were, and how it was improper and against the rules to even ask about them.

So the fact Sam was openly telling you of her, was more telling than any words could ever be. He trusted you, he saw you as a close enough friend to happily and thoroughly tell you all about his Mate. That alone made you again feel warm all over. Today had just been such an eye opening day for you, you’d had many revelations and taken in a bunch of new information. All the gaps in your story were now filled and you could start moving on from everything that had happened to you and the ones you love. You could finally find true peace, and live out your eternal life happily and surrounded by so many amazing people, with whom you loved so truly and deeply.

It was a lucky thing then that you just so happened to be the Goddess of Love, and had more than enough to go around.

You both reach your new bedroom door, and say your goodbyes, you congratulating Sam on his wonderful Mate. She sounds absolutely perfect for him, and you are so overjoyed for them to have finally found each other. Sam deserves the world, and you’d give it to him if you could. Before Sam leaves, he promises that someone will be up to retrieve you soon for dinner. Then with a final hug, he ventures off to places unknown, as you turn to push open the door that leads into the room you share with your husband.

And the moment the door is fully open you gasp, a hand raising to cover your mouth in astonishment.

Everywhere your eyes land, there are candles.

Hundreds and hundreds of candles, all flickering away in the quiet dim of the room. Flower pedals covers the floors and surfaces of all the furniture. The fireplace is lit and roaring, the crackling of burning wood punctuating the soft silence. There is a silver rolling tray with a few covered dishes, and some drinks. And in the middle of all of it, stands your one true Love.

And clutched in his hands is a bundle of freshly picked flowers, all of your favourites. Your heart melts at the sight before you, and before you can even think better of it, you are surging forward and leaping into his arms. Your arms and legs clasp around his neck and waist, respectively. And his wrap firmly around your waist, catching you with an effortless ease that you’ve grown accustomed to. But that has yet to cease in amazing you.

You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his delicious scent before you murmur against his skin, “I love you with all that I am.”

He tightens his hold on you, “and I love you with all that I possess.”

And in this moment, you know without a shadow of a doubt, that is his exactly where you’re meant to be. And that you will love this man for eternity, because he is your everything. Just as you are his.

He may be the God of War, and you may be the Goddess of Love, but two hearts were never more perfectly matched. Were never more destined for one another. You may not have souls, but you’d be damned if you didn’t acknowledge that you were both, in fact, true soulmates.

And now all that was left to do, was live out your eternity with your Love, your Mate, your husband.

Your Ari.

**The End**

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@caps-lockdown @tfandtws @boxofteenageideas @wangdeasang @giggleberts @casuallydarktiger @theonelittleone @agentbadbitch @ratwrites @starrystellars @bandsandanimefreak @rockyroadthepastryarchy @lovvliies @cuffski @icesoccerer @alwaysright4 @lilsthethrills @steeeeverogers @zombiepotterfour @ledandan1244 @straightforwardly @denzmallows @xremember-me-notx @gwynethjodie @lollipopdomination @capstopavenger @jemimah-b99 @rcvenqers @justkending @alagalaska @silent-loucidity @sabertooth-potato @pies-wands-and-more @interstellarmess @gabriella69816 @phantom-soilder @wordlesscaptain @captain-hammer-of-asgard @starstucknature @viarogers @pixieferry @kaithezaftig @the-kinkiest-goblin @hysterically-original @heyiamthatbitch @zlixlle @capsicledoll @givemehopenfandoms @pretendingandpreposterous @frozen-phoenix17 @emotionallysalty @atomicsludgedonutbiscuit @saturngirlz @ivannagotthebeat @bohemian-barbie @marvelous-capsicle @ivoryhazlewood @steverogersxreader @cjhorseback @secondstar2disney @jessiedaeum @betsynodak @sister-of-stars @wiserebelpartypie @patzammit @cs-please @troublermalik @moonlightimagination

[softnaruto]

Could you do an angsty scenario for Itachi where the reader(his lover) finds out the reasons behind the massacre after his death? If not it’s okay I love your blog !

Death’s Karma

author’s note: So sorry for the wait! I actually had finished it but then realized I had read the request wrong, so I rewrote it! I hope you like it, I wanted it to have a twist! 

word count: 1730

genre: angst!

warnings: death

Before the departure:

Having to see the bodies of the individuals you had once talked to, laughed with, and loved was more heartbreaking than anything else you had ever experienced. You were in the Hokage’s ANBU, however, and emotion was something that was completely restricted. Your mission that night was not to think about Itachi’s unspeakable actions, but rather, help pick up the bodies as your comrades tried to find any trace of the murderer.

As you picked up the corpses on the street, tears brimming in your eyes as you carefully took strands of hair off of the small, lifeless victim in your arms, you thought about Itachi. The simple thought of picking up bodies as if they were leaves made you feel disgusted, but there was no space for feelings in the shinobi world. As the Hokage had said, Itachi wasn’t the same person he was before, was he?

He was now Itachi the murderer, a traitor to Konoha.  

What was he thinking when he was murdering innocent people? Was he really a selfish being that only thought about himself and hated his own clan? Even after making you devote your life to yours?

You would stay up every night, look at the ceiling, and remember the way Itachi’s hands would trace your skin; the way his fingers would warm you up, igniting a fire you had never felt before. You would breathe in his scent through the clothes you stole from the Uchiha compound a couple of nights after you had eradicated any trace of death. You would close your eyes, imagine his arms around you, wondering if he would still hold you the same way after his horrid act.

You felt guilty. Loving someone who had murdered so many was a horrible trait of yours, and yet you pushed the feeling of wanting him with you deep down inside of you.

A couple of months after the terrible sins that were committed, your mind drifted back to the incident. The explanations that the Hokage and Danzo had for the village as to why the incident happened seemed to shallow. Itachi wouldn’t just do it for power. Itachi wouldn’t murder his family, his friends, his clan for a simple test of strength. So why would he?

The obsession with the truth became uncontrollable, and eventually, it was impossible to not do anything about the situation. It was as if the disappearance of Itachi and the murder of the Uchiha clan had scarred you for life, leaving you as the only one able to truly find the end to the maze you had been living in. You were a mouse inside of a maze trying to find a way to escape, and you had grown tired of the shallow confrontations you have had with the ones who investigated the area.

The smell of blood and the sight of the innocent bodies in inhumane positions had stayed with you for a long time. Although you were once indifferent to the metallic smell of blood and the screams of the wounded, Itachi found a way to scar you once again. You had become trapped inside a cycle of insanity, wanting to be the knight in shining armor that would fix Itachi’s reputation, wherever he was.

Departure:

Fairy tales don’t exist. 

You weren’t the knight in shining armor that had discovered the truth behind Itachi’s acts. Instead, you assimilated and became a nobody who allowed Itachi’s story to be a mystery. You had tried to investigate it and tried to find the truth about Itachi’s reasoning itself, but found nothing. 

Instead, life was moving on without you, and while you wanted to stay inside of Itachi’s memory, continuously seeing him around you, you had to move on in order to survive.

You began to see the beauty in remembering him rather than the sadness in missing him. You would smile at the thought of sweet dumplings rather than the way he used to lighten up when you bought them for him, and slowly but surely, your heart healed from Itachi’s departure. You resigned from the ANBU, the emotionless and obscure life that you were trapped in, and became a teacher at the Academy.

Years after your heart had slowly healed from the disastrous massacre that had occurred in Konoha, the news of Itachi’s death had made their way to you. You were in the middle of a class, talking about clones and about the exam coming up when Iruka knocked on your door.

“Y/N,” He said softly, causing you to look up at him. You smiled at him before excusing yourself to your students and stepping out to the hallway.

“We got… news about Itachi.”

The news hit you like a kunai to your chest; they had taken the air away from your lungs, emptying them out and inserting poison. You, the once emotionless soldier that worked in the shadows, had been reduced to a weeping, broken, frame of a human in front of what seemed like the whole world.

It was as if the whole world had completely broken and there was no hope left. You had always wanted to find out the truth about Itachi, but the simple fact was that you weren’t strong enough to. Countless years of asking the Hokage for the truth, countless years of approaching Kakashi with pointless questions; they were all in vain. You were never able to heal him, help him, or bring him back home.

He was really gone this time.  

After the departure:

After the news of Itachi’s death, you had begun to take walks through what was left of the Uchiha compound. In these pointless midnight walks, you found yourself remembering the way you would walk around the same streets with Itachi. The roads were empty, dust covering the once-crowded dumpling shops, and you winced as you remembered how much pain resided in the compound.

Tonight, you had walked endlessly until you found yourself in front of Itachi’s house. You trespassed the building, admiring how little everything inside had changed, but how vastly different the home felt. It once was a sweet memory for you, going into Itachi’s house and visiting his mother to drink her famous tea and admire Itachi from afar; now, the teacups were placed in cabinets never to be used again.

Walking away from the memories of his home and into the forest, you admired how beautiful the moonlight looked through the trees, almost as if to trick you into thinking a massacre hadn’t occurred in the compound behind you. You stopped at the Uchiha’s training grounds, remembering the way Itachi would try and teach you new justu every time you’d drop by.

“You aren’t an Uchiha.” A voice called out, making you freeze. The voice was peculiar and dark, almost teasing.

“I am not,” You answered, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. It was a strange thing, the way you had not noticed a presence. “Who are you?”

“Who are you?” The voice called out, echoing through the forest. “Ah, I see now. You used to be Itachi’s friend, right?”

You brought out a kunai, inspecting the forest carefully. Whoever it was, if they were so skilled to not be noticed, they were sure to be dangerous; especially since they knew who you were. The voice laughed before a figure appeared before you out of thin air.

“Who are you? How do you know me?” Your voice was wavering, and you took a step back, trying to figure who the stranger was. Your eyes were met with a strange masked man in a black and red robe. The Akatsuki. “Answer me.”  

“I’m… someone from the past.” He answered, almost as if he didn’t really care to do so.

“Someone from the past?” You questioned, keeping your guard up.

“Your resilience has always interested me, Y/N,” The man said, his voice creating shivers down your spine, “You knew Itachi had murdered his entire clan and yet you continued to investigate it. You spent countless hours sneaking into the Hokage’s office, never giving up. You just kept running after him, like a little lamb. Itachi did mention that you would try to run after him, now that I think about it.” The figure said before a small chuckle escaped the darkness that his voice was enveloped with. “You have refused to believe what the leaders have told you for years. I don’t think you’re persuaded easily, Y/N. That is a very good trait to have.”

“You knew Itachi?” Your voice wavered, and the weight in your chest became more prominent than ever before.

“Of course I knew Itachi,” The masked man answered, almost as if to taunt you with it… trying to reel you in. He was successful. “I helped him escape. After all, knowing the truth behind his actions really makes you empathize with him.”

“Tell me,” You pleaded, not caring if the man was dangerous or not. Itachi was not the cold-hearted murderer everyone thought he was. You had to know the truth behind Itachi’s actions and the real reason why he committed such an atrocious act. “Tell me everything about Itachi. I know he wasn’t a—”

“A murderer?” The figure answered, taking a few steps towards you, “I’ll tell you since you amuse me so much.”  

A New Beginning:

The truth behind the Uchiha’s massacre had changed you. Your hatred towards the village, the Hokage, Danzo, and the belief of the will of fire that was installed in every little soldier they sacrificed grew immensely. You hated everything that reminded you of Itachi. His devotion to the village, his devotion to the people who hated him for being an Uchiha, and his devotion to his last mission disgusted you.

You wanted nothing to do with Konoha and nothing to do with the fake life you had created for yourself after his departure. The masked man, who had introduced himself as Madara Uchiha, was right. Konoha was an evil place that played with its people and sacrificed others for a greater good that did not exist.

One day you would go back to see Danzo, the Hokage, and the elders. Sacrifice them for the greater good.

“Welcome to the Akatsuki.”