#IMAGINE HER SAYING THAT ^^^ BACK TO HIM WHEN SHE COMES BACK WITH MOSS LIKE ASKING HIM TO RAISE MOSS WITH HER BLEEEEGGGHHHH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lovemni · 6 months ago

Text

wings of a broken heart, fly away 日 ── stranded human falls for the faerie who heals him, but love masks a cruel fate.

𓍯 prince!hyunjin ʚଓ fem-faerie!reader ：（ 𝒾 ） 14k ── ༯ ONESHOT, fantasy, mystical, skz ensemble, humor, romance, gore, fluff, flirting, kisses, open ending, hurting, faerieland, royal au, mystery, clean, heartbreak (if it wasn't obvious from the title.. ><), cliffhanger, major plot twist, blood, betrayals. ⸝⸝𓂃 LiBRARY. /ᐠ.��.ᐟ\ྀིྀི

yani's note ˖˙ ᰋ yani's active era now in action. y'all are not gonna like this one.. correct me if i'm wrong in the comments ;) !! a warning, hope you're mentally prepared for this, and please reread the info. so that you don't come attack me after.. !! i don't think it really came out as i wanted it to, but well, it's out anyway. i could do better, sorry if it wasn't to your expectations !! kinda different from my usual works :<. please note this is all out of my mere delusions and imaginations ; nothing relates to the idol irl, and it’s all fiction, so take it with a grain of salt. comments, requests, asks, likes, follows and reblogs are always appreciated ! comment/ask if you want to be added to my mastertag ! happy reading <3

the dewmist woods were alive with a thousand shades of green. sunlight filtered through the canopy, dappling the moss-covered ground in soft gold. the air carried the mingling scents of wildflowers, dew, and the sweet aroma of nectar. this wasn’t an ordinary forest—it was an untouched realm, brimming with magic and mystery. trees towered into the heavens, their trunks wrapped in glowing vines, while exotic fruits of every imaginable hue hung from branches. the fruits shimmered like jewels—pearly white starfruits, golden berries that sparkled like fireflies, and plum-sized fruits that emitted a soft lilac glow.

outside of the woods, by the shore, a clearing bustled with activity. a makeshift boat, carefully pieced together over years of labor, rested on a carpet of moss. it was a beautiful thing—its base carved from sturdy driftwood and reinforced with planks salvaged from shipwrecks found near the island's shores. the sails were stitched together from woven leaves, strengthened with threads of a fabric that resembled a bit with silk, with a hint of magic. the boat’s elegance was matched only by the bittersweet air surrounding it.

y/n stood a few paces away, her light brown hair catching the sun as she watched her friends—family, now, make the final preparations. she wore a flowing dress of woven golden petals, its edges fluttering like butterfly wings with each soft breeze. her wings, radiant and white with streaks of yellow, were hidden for now, as they often were when she felt nervous or uncertain. and today, she was both.

“y/n, stop fidgeting,” came a teasing voice.

she turned to see one of the eldest in the crew, adjusting the strap of a small pack slung across his shoulder. his raven hair gleamed, and his sharp eyes, though calm, held a glimmer of warmth. he looked like he always did—steady, dependable, and just a little smug.

“i’m not fidgeting!” y/n shot back, crossing her arms but unable to suppress a smile. “i’m just… making sure everything’s okay.”

“everything is fine, little fae,” the actual oldest called from the other side of the clearing, his blonde hair catching the light like spun gold. he was carrying a barrel onto the boat with ease, his strength making the task look effortless. “we’ve triple-checked everything. right, yaena?”

the lilac-haired elf nodded as she secured her quiver of arrows onto the side of the boat. her voice was calm and steady as always. “yes, but that doesn’t mean you get to slack off now, chris. we still need to balance the supplies better.”

“i’m not slacking off! i’m just saying y/n doesn’t need to worry so much,” chris replied with a playful grin.

“she worries because she cares,” rina interjected, her brown hair tied back in a braid adorned with small, glowing flowers. she was arranging bundles of food—berries, fruits, and enchanted nuts—into small satchels. “and honestly, we could use a little more care sometimes.”

“stop babying her,” minho said, though there was no bite to his words. he glanced at y/n with a smirk. “you’ll have felix here. if anything happens, he’ll just turn invisible and scare away whatever comes your way.”

felix, who was leaning against a tree with his silver hair catching the light, gave a soft chuckle. the younger one's deep voice carried effortlessly. “i don’t think that’s how invisibility works, but i’ll do my best.” he looked at y/n and added, “don’t worry, y/nnie. i’ll make sure nothing happens while they’re gone.” he pat her head, exaggerating his words.

“i’m not a kid, you know,” y/n protested, pouting slightly, though her eyes sparkled with amusement. “and i don’t need protection.”

felix raised an eyebrow. “right. because you’re going to take down a wild boar with your healing magic?”

y/n stuck out her tongue at him, and the group burst into laughter. “if i have to, i might!”

the humor did little to mask the weight of what was happening. this was the day. after years of dreaming, planning, and building, chris, minho, yaena, and rina were finally leaving dewmist woods in search of their kind. it wasn’t an easy choice—they all knew the island was a haven, and the outside world was an unknown. but the island had once been filled with faeries, elves, and other magical beings, and they couldn’t ignore the call to find out what had happened to them.

“alright, everyone, gather up!” chris called, clapping his hands.

the group formed a loose circle around the boat. the atmosphere shifted, becoming more somber.

he spoke first, his voice steady. “we don’t know how long this journey will take, but we promise to come back. and when we do, we’ll bring answers—maybe even more of our kind.”

yaena stepped forward, placing a hand on y/n’s shoulder. “take care of the forest while we’re gone. it’s our home, and it’s still full of magic. protect it, and protect each other.”

rina gave y/n a tight hug. “we’re going to miss your singing. don’t let felix teach you any bad habits while we’re gone.”

“i heard that,” felix muttered, though his tone was fond.

finally, minho crouched slightly to look y/n in the eye. his expression softened, something rare for him when he's with others; but definitely usual when he's with his favorite younger—who was more of a little sister . “stay safe, y/n. and don’t forget—you’re stronger than you think. even if you’re not out there fighting, you’re the heart of this group.”

y/n blinked quickly, trying to hold back tears. she nodded, her voice small but steady. “you all better come back. promise me.”

“we promise,” chris said, placing a hand over his heart.

the group exchanged final hugs, their voices overlapping with goodbyes, reassurances, and half-teasing remarks to lighten the mood.

as the boat finally pushed off, its sails catching the gentle breeze, y/n and felix stood at the water’s edge, watching it grow smaller in the distance.

“you okay?” felix asked after a moment, his deep voice breaking the silence.

y/n nodded, though her chest felt tight. “yeah. i just.. i hope they find what they’re looking for.”

“they will,” felix said confidently. “and until then, we’ve got this place to take care of.”

y/n turned to look at him, her wings fluttering briefly into view before disappearing again. “you’re right. dewmist woods is still our home.”

and so, as the boat disappeared beyond the horizon, y/n and felix turned back toward the vibrant, magical forest. they were the last guardians of dewmist woods, and no matter what came their way, they would protect it.

the forest hummed with life, but y/n couldn’t shake the ache of loneliness in her chest. it had been days since the others had left, and though felix was nearby, she still felt the absence of their vibrant presence—chris’s booming laugh, minho’s sarcastic quips, rina’s soft encouragement, and yaena’s calm reassurances. the hut, usually filled with warmth and chatter, now felt quiet and hollow.

after pacing around the home for what felt like the hundredth time, she decided she couldn’t stay cooped up any longer. she slipped out, leaving the hut behind.

bare feet kissed the earth as she stepped into the sun-dappled clearing, her delicate wings unfurling behind her. a cascade of soft yellow and white shimmered in the light, their glow akin to moonbeams caught in the gossamer threads of a spider’s web. her wings were as ethereal as a dream, a living tapestry of light and silk, yet they carried the ghost of an old wound—a wound from a time too distant to remember fully but too near and painful to ever forget.

a long, jagged tear marred the right wing’s perfect symmetry, a place where once, sharp brambles had cut too deep, too unforgiving. even now, the slightest brush of wind or a careless twig sent tendrils of pain radiating through her, a reminder of her fragility. her wings, though lovely, were a burden as much as a gift.

her fingers trembled as they hovered over the scarred place. she felt the familiar sting of weakness simmering beneath her skin. she could fly—but the price was always too high. every lift of her body into the air drained her strength, left her breathless and trembling until her feet longed for the solidity of the earth once more.

and so, she avoided the skies.

with a deep breath, she let her wings droop gently, their glow dimming like a waning candle. the ache in her heart remained, but she pressed onward. the soft grass curled around her toes as she wandered further into the woods. each step was slow, deliberate, but there was a kind of power in that slowness, a quiet strength in choosing to walk when the world expected her to soar.

so yes, she was a faerie—but one who trusted the ground beneath her feet more than the sky that whispered promises her fragile wings could not keep.

— ༊ ࿐

the walk to the shore was peaceful, the sun filtering gently through the canopy above, painting the mossy ground with golden light. she stopped to talk to a cluster of butterflies, their wings shimmering with iridescent hues, their tiny, fluttering voices soothing in her mind. a few pixies, no taller than her hand, flitted by, laughing as they danced in spirals around her.

when she reached the shoreline, the world opened up. the sea stretched endlessly before her, glittering like liquid sapphire. the waves lapped gently against the sand, the soft breeze carrying with it the salty tang of the ocean. y/n sat down near the water, her wings catching the sunlight and casting a warm, ethereal glow around her. she drew idle shapes in the sand, humming softly to herself.

but then, something unusual caught her eye.

at the far edge of the shore, where the coastline curved sharply and jagged rocks jutted out into the water, there was something out of place—a wreckage. a small, broken boat lay partially submerged, its hull splintered and leaning against the rocks. the wood was dark, soaked with seawater, and the sails hung in torn shreds.

y/n froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. the sight was foreign to her; her mind raced with questions. what could it be? who could it belong to?

slowly, curiosity overtook her hesitance.

she rose to her feet, brushing the sand off her dress, and made her way toward the wreck. her wings shimmered faintly as they fluttered behind her, reflecting her rising nerves.

when she reached the boat, she noticed the strange objects scattered around it. bits of metal tools, a shattered lantern, and a few soaked, crumbling scrolls were strewn across the sand. everything seemed alien, unfamiliar—nothing like the natural world she’d always known.

and then she saw him.

lying on the sand, just beyond the wreckage, was a figure. a human..?

y/n’s breath caught in her throat, and her wings instinctively folded tighter against her back. she had never seen a human before. the stories, paintings, and faded memories left on the island described them as strange, otherworldly beings. her friends had always debated what humans might be like—dangerous, kind, curious—but none of them had ever expected to see one.

her wide eyes scanned him cautiously. he was motionless, his body partially turned on its side, one arm sprawled out in the sand. he was tall, much taller than she’d imagined humans might be, and his frame seemed strong, even though his posture was limp with unconsciousness.

for a moment, she hesitated. should she approach him? what if he woke up and harmed her? but then her gaze shifted to the dark stain of blood seeping through the sleeve of his shirt and the jagged wound on his thigh. her heart pained.

steeling herself, she stepped closer, her bare feet sinking into the cool sand. she crouched down beside him, her dress fanning out around her. his face was obscured by long, damp strands of black hair, clinging to his skin from seawater.

she reached out hesitantly, her hand trembling as she brushed the hair away from his face.

and then she saw him.

his face was… unlike anything she had ever imagined. his features were sharp and elegant, almost unreal in their beauty. his skin was pale, almost translucent in the sunlight, with a soft sheen from the water. his jawline was defined, his lips pink and full, parted slightly as he breathed shallowly.

but it was the small details that captivated her most. a single mole rested beneath one of his closed eyes, adding an endearing softness to his otherwise striking face. his long lashes lay against his cheeks, dark and feathery, as though they held secrets of faraway lands. he wore a loose white shirt that clung to his chest, now torn in places, the sleeves folded halfway, right above the elbow, and black ragged pants that had seen better days. the fabric was unlike anything on the island, both strange and fascinating.

y/n’s heart raced as she took in his appearance. she had never seen a face other than her own reflection in the crystalline water, or her friends’ familiar features. although there were plenty of similarities, this was entirely new—entirely human. his curved ears, unlike hers that were edged and pointy at the top, his body slightly larger than hers, and hair midnight.

she reached out again, her fingers hovering near the mole under his eye, but she drew back before touching him.

he was hurt. the blood on his arm and thigh stained the sand beneath him, the red a stark contrast to the pale gold of the beach. the wound above his elbow looked deep, the torn fabric of his shirt revealing raw, jagged skin.

y/n’s instincts kicked in. as a faerie whose ability was healing even the deepest wounds, you could say that she could never try to hurt a singular ant, let alone, a bigger.. being. the sight of blood and pain made her heart wrench with emotion, tears pooling her eyes.

she glanced around the shore, her mind racing for a solution. but the wreckage held no answers, only more questions. how had he ended up here? where had he come from?

for a moment, she faltered. what if she wasn’t ready to face this? she was the youngest, the least experienced. the others would have known what to do.

but as she looked back at his peaceful, unconscious face, her resolve hardened.

“i can’t just leave you here,” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible over the waves. her wings flickered faintly, as if agreeing with her decision.

she placed a hand gently on his shoulder, her fingers brushing the wet fabric of his shirt. “i’ll help you. somehow.”

and with that, she made her choice.

the rhythmic crashing of the waves faded into the background as the faerie focused on the unconscious human before her. her hands hovered hesitantly over the wound on his arm, her breath unsteady. the dark red gash seemed deep, the skin torn and swollen. blood had soaked through his torn sleeve and pooled on the sand beneath him.

she glanced at his face again, his sharp features softened by unconsciousness. despite his unfamiliarity, her heart ached to see anyone in such a state. he must’ve been through something terrible, she thought.

taking a deep breath, y/n closed her eyes. her wings began to glow faintly, an ethereal yellow-white light that grew brighter with every passing moment. she moved her hands closer to the wound, and as she did, a soft golden light spread from her palms. her wings radiated energy, filling the air around her with warmth and calm.

the wound on his arm began to close, the torn skin knitting itself together under the glow of her touch. she moved her hands to his thigh, repeating the process. her aura shimmered brighter now, wrapping both of them in a cocoon of light. even the faint scratches on his face faded under her care, leaving only smooth, pale skin behind.

her energy pulsed gently as the last of his injuries disappeared. the light dimmed, her wings flickering faintly before the glow receded entirely. y/n exhaled, her hands trembling slightly from the effort. he was still unconscious, but his breathing was steady, no longer labored or shallow.

“i-i did it,” she whispered, relief washing over her. “you're not hurting now.”

but now came the next challenge: she couldn’t leave him exposed here on the shore. the sea breeze was cool, and the open beach left him vulnerable. she couldn’t risk felix finding him either; she knew her protective friend would forbid her from getting involved.

y/n crouched beside him, her small hands hooking under his shoulders as she tried to drag him toward the trees. despite his lean frame, he was heavier than she expected, his boots dragging lines in the sand as she pulled with all her strength.

“why are humans so big?” she grumbled under her breath, her voice light but strained.

finally, she managed to get him under the shade of a large tree near the edge of the forest. the area was secluded enough to hide him from prying eyes but close enough to the beach that she could keep watch. she laid him down carefully, brushing sand off his clothes as she straightened his arm.

“stay here,” she murmured softly, glancing at his still face. she bit her lip, debating for a moment before turning and heading back to the heart of the forest, to their hut.

... minutes later.

the walk back was nerve-wracking. every rustle of leaves made her jump, every shift of the forest’s shadows made her glance over her shoulder.

what am i even doing? she wondered, her fingers clutching the edges of her glowing dress. felix would never approve if he knew.

thankfully, the hut was empty when she returned. she quickly gathered a basket of fruits, her hands trembling as she selected the ripest ones. mango-like pulms, plump red sunberries, and a handful of yellow starfruits were arranged neatly. she added a flask of fresh water and some bread they’d made the day before.

by the time she returned to the tree, the human was still unconscious, his chest rising and falling steadily. she set the basket down beside him and crouched behind a nearby bush, her wings tucked tightly against her back as she waited.

she didn’t have to wait long.

a soft groan broke the stillness, followed by a faint rustle as the human shifted. y/n’s heart leapt, her hands clutching the hem of her dress as she peeked out from her hiding spot. his hand moved first, his long fingers curling slightly before his eyes fluttered open.

dark, almond-shaped eyes scanned the unfamiliar surroundings, confusion clouding his expression. he sat up slowly, his brows furrowed as he looked down at his arm—and froze.

the blood was gone. the wound was gone.

he lifted his sleeve, examining the now-smooth skin with wide eyes. his hands moved to his thigh, finding the same result.

“what…?” he muttered, his voice low and soft, tinged with disbelief. his gaze darted to the basket of food nearby, and then to the surrounding forest.

a sudden rustling noise drew his attention, and his sharp eyes snapped toward the source—y/n.

great job, self.

she gasped softly, realizing she’d been seen. his dark gaze locked onto her, his posture tense but not hostile. he didn’t seem frightened; if anything, he looked protective, his hands poised to defend himself.

but then his eyes widened slightly, his gaze dropping to the soft glow of her wings, which she hadn’t hidden in her nervousness.

“you…” he breathed, his voice a mixture of awe and confusion.

y/n’s heart raced. she scrambled back a step, her fingers brushing against the sand until they found a smooth stone. she snatched it up, holding it in front of her defensively.

“w-who are you?” she demanded, her voice trembling slightly but carrying a strength that surprised even her. her usual gentle tone sharpened into something firm, her wings flaring slightly behind her.

the human raised his hands in a placating gesture, his gaze never leaving hers. “i’m not here to hurt you,” he said, his voice calm but steady. “i… i don’t even know where i am.”

y/n narrowed her eyes, gripping the stone tighter. “that doesn’t answer my question.”

he exhaled, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “i’m… a traveler. my ship—it crashed in a storm. i don’t know how i got here.”

y/n tilted her head, her curiosity beginning to outweigh her fear. “you’re human,” she said softly, more to herself than to him.

he blinked. “and you’re..” he replied, his gaze flickering to her glowing wings.

she spoke again, not wanting him to complete his sentence. “you shouldn’t be here. no one should be here,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered at the edges. her grip on the stone loosened slightly, though she didn’t lower it.

“i didn’t mean to,” the man replied. “i didn’t even know this place existed.”

y/n studied him for a long moment, her amber-brown eyes searching his face. he didn’t seem dangerous—just lost, confused, and maybe a little awestruck. but the stories she’d grown up with still lingered in the back of her mind, warning her to be cautious.

finally, she lowered the stone, though her wings remained flared, a faint glow surrounding her. “stay where you are,” she said firmly. “i’ll decide what to do with you.”

his lips twitched into the faintest smile. “you saved me, didn’t you?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed faintly, but she ignored his question, turning her back on him as she hid her trembling hands behind her.

what am i doing? she thought again, her heart pounding as she tried to keep her composure. y/n stepped back a little farther, gripping the smooth stone tightly in her hand as the human tried to shift into a more comfortable position. she studied him closely, every detail of his movements, unsure if he might suddenly become hostile. her wings glowed faintly behind her, an unintentional show of her nervousness.

"don't come close to me—" she said sharply, her voice firm despite the slight quiver in her tone.

he froze, lifting his hands again to show he meant no harm, once again. “i won't— i'm saying it again, i’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, his voice calm and reassuring.

her eyes darted to his hands and then back to his face. “you shouldn’t even be here. you don’t belong here.”

he tilted his head, his gaze flickering briefly to her glowing wings. “are you.. human?”

y/n blinked, startled by the question. “human?” she mumbled the word she'd known for long, but it still foreign on her tongue.

she looked at him more closely now, studying the odd cut of his clothes, the dark fabric layered with gold-threaded details. his boots were worn, his hair tousled and damp from the sea, yet he carried himself with an air of elegance. he was undeniably different—alien, unfamiliar.

“no,” she replied quietly. “i’ve never seen a.. human before.”

a faint smile tugged at his lips, though he quickly masked it. “well, now you have,” he said lightly.

she stiffened at his tone, her grip on the stone tightening. “don’t mock me.”

“i’m not mocking you,” he replied, his voice still soft. “i’m just… surprised. i didn’t expect to find anyone here.”

her eyes narrowed. “you shouldn’t have found us. this island—it’s forbidden. you need to leave as soon as you can.”

the man leaned back slightly, his gaze flickering around the shaded forest. “i would if i could, but i don’t think i’m in any shape to build a boat and sail off, do you?”

y/n bit her lip, unsure how to respond. she had to admit he had a point, but she didn’t like the idea of him staying here. her friends had always warned her about outsiders. they’d said humans were dangerous, unpredictable, and greedy.

“where am i?” he asked suddenly, his tone curious but calm.

“it’s none of your concern,” y/n said quickly, her voice defensive.

“it kinda is if i’m stranded here.”

she shook her head. “you don’t need to know. it won’t help you anyway.”

“talk about honesty.. alright, this will be hard.”

he studied her for a moment, his gaze steady but not intimidating. “are you a faerie?”

y/n froze, her wings flickering faintly. she didn’t know how he knew about faeries, but his question struck a nerve. her first instinct was to deny it, but the way he asked—gently, without any trace of malice—made her pause.

after a long moment, she gave a hesitant nod.

his expression softened, though he kept his features carefully neutral. he didn’t want to scare her away or reveal how much he already knew about her kind. growing up in the palace, he’d been taught about faeries, elves, and other mystical beings—legends passed down through generations. he’d always thought them to be myths, mere stories to entertain and educate. but now, seeing her standing before him, her glowing wings and angelic presence so very real, he couldn’t help but marvel.

“don’t stare,” y/n said, her voice snapping him out of his thoughts. she crossed her arms over her chest, trying to look intimidating.

“i’m sorry,” he said quickly, though there was a faint amusement in his tone. “i just didn’t think i’d ever meet a faerie.”

“well, now you have. so eat,” she said, shoving the basket of fruit toward him.

he glanced at the basket, then back at her. “you brought this for me?”

she frowned, looking away. “i… figured you’d be hungry.”

“thank you,” he said sincerely, picking up a piece of fruit.

“don’t thank me,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing slightly. “i only brought it so you don’t cause trouble.”

the man bit into the fruit, the sweet juice bursting on his tongue. “trouble? i’m sitting here with a bruised ego and no boat. what kind of trouble could i possibly cause?”

“you’d be surprised,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

he smiled faintly, taking another bite of fruit. “what’s your name?”

“that’s none of your business,” she shot back, her tone defensive.

“fair enough,” he replied easily, leaning back against the tree. “i’m hyunjin, by the way.”

y/n didn’t respond, though her eyes flickered to his face. he was so strange, so unfamiliar, yet she couldn’t deny that he was… beautiful. his delicate features seemed carved by the gods themselves, and the mole beneath his eye only added to his charm.

“you’re staring,” hyunjin said, his voice teasing.

y/n snapped out of her thoughts, her cheeks burning. “i wasn’t staring!”

“you were,” he said, smiling softly.

“stop talking,” she muttered, flustered.

hyunjin chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you’re not very good at being intimidating, are you?”

“i am so!” she retorted, her wings flaring slightly in defiance.

“you’re more like an angry butterfly,” he said, his tone playful.

y/n glared at him, though she couldn’t entirely suppress the small smile tugging at her lips.

after a moment, her curiosity got the better of her. “you said you’re a traveler. where are you from?”

hyunjin hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. “a kingdom far from here.”

“kingdom?”

“aestheria,” he said simply.

y/n’s eyes widened slightly. “aetheria? the kingdom of golden spires?”

he nodded, a small smile on his lips. “you’ve heard of it?”

“only in stories,” she said softly. “i didn’t think it was.. real.”

“it is,” hyunjin said, his tone gentle. “and i’m a prince.”

y/n’s jaw dropped, though she quickly shut it, trying to compose herself. “you’re a… prince?”

“yes.”

she crossed her arms, trying to appear unimpressed. “you don’t look like a prince.”

hyunjin laughed lightly. “what does a prince look like, then?”

“not like… that,” she said, gesturing vaguely at him.

“ouch, way to add to my already broken ego.. but anyway, i really am,” he said with a faint smile, watching her reaction with amusement.

y/n tried to appear unaffected, but her wide eyes betrayed her awe. she turned away, her wings folding neatly against her back as she muttered, “i don’t care if you’re a prince. you still don’t belong here.”

hyunjin smiled to himself, leaning back against the tree as he watched her with quiet fascination.

a soft, shimmering light caught y/n's attention as a tiny butterfly-like pixie fluttered toward her. its delicate wings shimmered with hues of lavender and gold, leaving a faint trail of glittering dust in the air. y/n froze, her heart racing. pixie butterflies only showed up when something urgent needed to be said.

“y/n!” the pixie squeaked in a high-pitched but anxious voice, hovering near her shoulder. her tiny frame quivered nervously as she glanced back toward the direction of the hut.

“what is it, lunis?” y/n asked, her voice low, her eyes darting briefly toward hyunjin, who was still leaning against the tree, his sharp gaze quietly observing the interaction.

lunis hesitated, wringing its tiny hands as it hovered closer to her ear. “who is this? who is this man?!” she whispered frantically, though her voice carried enough for hyunjin to catch the distress in her tone.

y/n stiffened. “lunis—please—don’t be loud!” she tried to wave the pixie off, hoping to calm her nervous flurry.

the pixie ignored her, her tiny eyes wide with panic. “you know how felix will react, y/n! he’ll—he’ll lose his wings if he finds out!”

y/n winced, her heart sinking at the mention of felix. she knew exactly what lunis meant. felix’s overprotectiveness was both his strength and his flaw. he’d do anything to keep the place safe, even if it meant being harsh.

“i know,” she whispered, her voice tight. “but i couldn’t just leave him. look at him!” she gestured at hyunjin, who raised his eyebrows but said nothing, his gaze flickering between y/n and the panicked pixie.

lunis turned to hyunjin, her tiny hands clutching her head dramatically. “a human?! a human! on dewmist woods? this is—this is—”

“calm down!” y/n snapped quietly, her wings flickering in agitation.

“i can’t calm down!” lunis hissed. “felix will see! he’ll know! he always knows!”

hyunjin, sensing the tension, decided to interject. “i’m not here to hurt anyone, little one,” he said softly, his deep voice carrying an almost soothing quality.

the pixie froze, her tiny wings fluttering erratically.

“it talks..” lunis whispered, her voice dripping with suspicion. “humans talk. humans lie!”

“lunis!” y/n scolded, turning to face the pixie fully. “he’s injured. i healed him. what was i supposed to do? let him bleed out on the shore?”

“so you did heal me.”

“you, stay quiet!”

“yes!” lunis shrieked, then immediately clapped her hands over her mouth, looking horrified at her own words. “no! i didn’t mean that, but—oh, y/n, you don’t understand! felix will scold you! he’ll never trust you again!”

y/n flinched at the thought, her heart heavy. she loved felix dearly—he was like an older brother to her—but she couldn’t ignore how overbearing he could be. he’d never let her out of his sight again if he found out about this.

“be quick, y/n!” lunis pleaded, tugging on her sleeve with her tiny hands. “get him away from here before felix sees! he’s out gathering wood, but he could come back any moment! please, please! go home before it’s too late!”

y/n’s mind raced. she glanced at hyunjin, who was now watching her with a strange mix of curiosity and concern. his dark eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, she felt a pang of guilt.

“i can’t just—” she started, but lunis interrupted her.

“you can,” the pixie insisted. “you must. or felix will—” she stopped mid-sentence, her tiny frame trembling.

“felix will what?” hyunjin asked suddenly, his voice calm but firm.

lunis let out a tiny squeak and darted behind y/n’s shoulder, clearly intimidated. “none of your business, human!”

“god forbid a man is curious.” hyunjin sighed, his gaze flickering to y/n. “you’re not very good at hiding things, are you?”

y/n shot him a glare, her cheeks flushing. “quiet,” she muttered.

lunis tugged on her sleeve again. “y/n, please! you’re my friend, and i don’t want felix to yell at you. he’s so scary when he’s upset!”

“i know,” y/n murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. she felt torn, her heart aching under the weight of the pixie’s fear and her own guilt.

hyunjin leaned back against the tree, watching her with a thoughtful expression. “i take it this felix person isn’t very fond of strangers,”

y/n’s wings flickered again, betraying her nerves. “that’s putting it lightly,” she muttered.

“then perhaps i should leave,” hyunjin suggested, though his tone lacked conviction.

“bingo! so, the human thinks too-”

y/n hesitated, her gaze flickering between him and lunis. “you can’t leave!” she said finally. “not yet. you’re still weak- and you don’t have a boat.”

there was a faint smile tugging at his lips, as if he knew she wouldn’t let him go so easily.

lunis groaned, flitting in front of her face. “y/n, think about this! felix—”

“i’ll handle felix,” y/n said firmly, surprising both lunis and herself.

hyunjin’s eyebrows rose, and lunis blinked at her, her tiny mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“you… you’ll handle him?” lunis stammered. “y/n, you can’t even argue with a butterfly!”

y/n crossed her arms, her wings glowing faintly with determination. “i’ll figure it out! trust me!”

hyunjin watched her, a flicker of admiration in his dark eyes. “you’re braver than you look,” he said softly.

y/n shot him a look, her cheeks warming. “don’t push your luck, human.”

lunis groaned, throwing her tiny hands in the air. “fine! but don’t say i didn’t warn you! if felix catches you—oh, it’ll be awful! just awful!”

with one last worried glance at hyunjin, the pixie flitted away, her shimmering trail disappearing into the forest.

y/n let out a shaky breath, her wings drooping slightly. she turned to hyunjin, who was still leaning casually against the tree, his expression unreadable.

“you really do have a lot of secrets,” he said, his voice quiet but teasing.

“don’t get used to it,” she replied, her tone sharp. “you’re not staying forever.”

y/n watched lunis disappear into the forest, her stomach twisting with anxiety. she turned back to the human, who was still leaning casually against the tree, his dark eyes now focused on the soft glow of her wings.

he tilted his head, clearly curious but not prying.

“you’re making this very difficult,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms as she tried to figure out what to do next.

“i don’t think i’m the one sneaking around on my own island, trying to hide a human.”

y/n glared at him, though her wings gave a faint flicker of nervous energy. “you’re not helping.”

“i wasn’t aware i was supposed to,” he replied smoothly, his tone carrying just enough teasing to make her grit her teeth.

with a frustrated sigh, the faerie glanced toward the forest path leading back to their hut. felix could be back at any moment, and if lunis—or any of the other pixies—decided to snitch, things could spiral very quickly.

“alright,” she said firmly, snapping hyunjin out of his casual amusement. “you’re coming with me.”

he blinked, straightening up slightly. “i am?”

“yes,” she said, grabbing the leftover food and tucking it into a small woven pouch at her side. “you can’t stay out here. if felix sees you…” she trailed off, her wings giving an involuntary twitch at the thought.

he raised an eyebrow. “this felix must be quite terrifying.”

“considering you're a human, you can say that.”

“he’s not terrifying,” she replied quickly, though her voice wavered slightly. “he’s just… protective. and if he sees you, he’ll—” she paused, wringing her hands nervously. “you'll probably have a death wish.”

hyunjin’s lips twitched as though suppressing a laugh. “sounds like someone i’d love to meet.”

“you’re not meeting him!” she snapped, flustered. “now, come on. and be quiet.”

without giving him a chance to argue, she tugged at his arm. to her surprise, he followed her without complaint, his long strides making it easy to keep up.

“where are we going?” he asked, his voice low enough not to echo through the forest.

“somewhere felix won’t look,” she said simply, her eyes darting around nervously as they walked.

“do you even know where that is?”

“yes!” she said quickly, though her voice lacked conviction.

hyunjin chuckled softly, the sound warm and surprisingly comforting. “you’re terrible at lying.”

she shot him a glare over her shoulder. “quiet.”

eventually, they reached a small grove not far from the hut but hidden enough by thick vines and towering trees. y/n pushed aside some of the greenery, revealing a small hollow nestled against the roots of a massive tree.

“here,” she said, gesturing for him to duck inside.

hyunjin looked at the hollow, then back at her with a raised eyebrow. “you want me to hide in there?”

“did i ask you to argue?” she said, exasperated. “ it’s temporary, just until i figure out what to do.”

he sighed dramatically but crouched down, squeezing into the hollow. once inside, he leaned back against the tree roots, his legs stretched out awkwardly.

“comfortable?” she asked sarcastically.

“very,” he replied, though his tone was more amused than annoyed. “the best in town.”

y/n rolled her eyes and began to pull the vines back into place, ensuring the hollow was completely hidden. “stay here. don’t make a sound. and if you hear anything—”

“run?” he offered, his lips twitching into a smile.

“hide,” she corrected, giving him a stern look.

hyunjin chuckled again, resting his head against the tree roots. “yes, ma’am.”

y/n sighed, stepping back to inspect her handiwork. it wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do. she turned to head back to the hut, but as soon as she stepped out of the grove, she froze.

felix was standing a few feet away, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight. he held a bundle of firewood in his arms, his sharp blue eyes narrowing as they locked onto her emerald ones.

“y/n,” he said slowly, his voice calm but laced with suspicion. “what are you doing out here?”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, and she forced a smile onto her face. “oh, just… exploring!”

felix tilted his head, clearly unconvinced. “exploring? near the grove we’ve told you a hundred times to stay away from?”

y/n faltered, her wings fluttering nervously. “it’s not that dangerous…”

felix stepped closer, his gaze narrowing. “what are you hiding?”

“hiding?” she repeated, her voice going an octave higher. “i’m not hiding anything!”

felix raised an eyebrow, his eyes scanning the area. “y/n.”

she opened her mouth to respond, but a sudden rustling from the grove behind her made her heart stop.

“what was that?” felix asked, his eyes snapping to the source of the sound.

“probably just a squirrel!” she said quickly, stepping in front of him to block his path.

felix’s gaze darkened. “move.”

“felix—”

“move, y/n,” he said firmly, his voice low but commanding.

before she could argue, another rustle came from the grove, followed by a soft, muffled curse. y/n’s stomach dropped as she recognized the voice.

felix’s eyes widened, and without another word, he pushed past her, shoving the vines aside to reveal hyunjin crouched awkwardly in the hollow.

for a moment, there was silence. felix stared at hyunjin, his expression unreadable, while hyunjin blinked up at him, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

“well,” hyunjin said casually, leaning back against the tree roots. “this is awkward.”

y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. “oh no…”

felix slowly turned to look at her, his expression a mix of disbelief and fury. “y/n.”

“felix, i can explain—”

“explain?” he repeated, his voice rising. “you’ve been hiding a human?!”

“it’s not what it looks like!” she said desperately.

felix gestured wildly at hyunjin. “it looks like there’s a human sitting in our grove!”

hyunjin raised a hand in a mock wave. “pleased to meet you too.”

felix ignored him, his focus entirely on y/n. “do you have any idea how dangerous this is? what were you thinking?”

“i was thinking i couldn’t let him die!” she shot back, her wings flaring slightly.

felix opened his mouth to argue, but hyunjin interrupted, his tone calm but firm. “if it helps, i don’t plan on hurting anyone.”

felix turned to glare at him. “you’re not helping.”

hyunjin shrugged. “didn’t think i was.”

“you just said you were.”

“details.”

y/n groaned again, pulling at her hair.

hyunjin glanced at y/n, who looked like she wanted to sink into the ground. “looks like i’m staying,” he said with a small smile.

felix stood between y/n and hyunjin, his shoulders squared, his blue eyes ice-cold as they bore into hyunjin's. his usual calm demeanor was gone, replaced with sharp intensity, his protective instincts flaring like a storm.

“inside,” felix said, his voice low but unyielding as he gestured toward the hut.

y/n hesitated, her wings fluttering nervously behind her. “but—”

“now,” felix interrupted, his tone firm and final.

y/n frowned, her voice rising slightly. “felix, we can just sort this out tog—”

he turned to her sharply, his frustration evident. “y/n, he could be a monster for all we know!”

that was the breaking point. her wings flared, her voice trembling with suppressed anger. “i’m sick of you trying to protect me as if i’m some fragile kid! i know how to protect myself!”

felix’s jaw tightened, but his expression didn’t soften. instead, his voice grew quieter, steadier, but still firm. “this isn’t up for debate. go inside.”

y/n’s lips pressed into a thin line, her fists clenching at her sides as she glared at him. for a moment, it looked like she might argue again, but she sighed heavily instead. her wings drooped slightly as she turned away, her voice quieter but still laced with frustration. “you're being unreasonable.”

without looking back, she made her way to the hut, her footsteps heavier than usual. the door shut behind her with a soft thud, leaving an uncomfortable silence between felix and hyunjin.

hyunjin, still seated near the hollow, raised an eyebrow as he observed felix. “that was… intense,” he said, his tone light but not mocking.

felix didn’t respond immediately. he crossed his arms, his posture rigid as he looked down at the stranger. “who are you?” he asked, his voice cold and unyielding.

“i told her already,” hyunjin replied evenly, though there was a flicker of tension in his voice. “my name is hyunjin. i’m—”

“i didn’t ask for your name,” felix interrupted, stepping closer as he pulled out a dagger from his satchel. “i asked who you are. what are you doing here? where did you come from?”

hyunjin’s jaw tightened slightly, but he kept his composure. “i was shipwrecked. that’s all.”

felix narrowed his eyes, his voice dropping lower. “and yet you just so happened to wash up on our island? a place no human has ever stepped foot on before?”

hyunjin met his gaze, his dark eyes steady. “it wasn’t intentional, i assure you. my ship was caught in a storm. i didn’t even know this place existed.”

felix tilted his head slightly, studying him with an almost predatory sharpness. “convenient, isn’t it? that you just happened to end up here, on an island full of creatures you filthy humans only tell stories about?”

hyunjin’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “you seem to think i had a choice in the matter.”

felix took another step closer, his voice sharp. “i don’t trust you. we don't trust you. and if you so much as look at y/n the wrong way—”

“i won’t harm any of you,” hyunjin interrupted, his tone firm but calm. “i swear it.”

felix’s eyes narrowed further. “words mean nothing. especially from a human.”

hyunjin sighed softly, running a hand through his hair. “you’re protective of the island. i understand that. but i have no intention of hurting her or anyone else here. i’m just trying to survive.”

felix didn’t respond immediately, his sharp gaze lingering on hyunjin as though he could see through him. the tension between them was thick, the air charged with unspoken threats.

finally, felix stepped back slightly, though his posture remained tense. “if you’re lying—if you’re here for anything other than survival—i will find out. and you won’t like what happens next.”

hyunjin nodded once, his expression serious. “understood.”

felix’s gaze lingered on him for another moment before he turned toward the hut. “stay here,” he ordered. “don’t move until i say so.”

as felix walked away, hyunjin let out a slow breath, leaning back against the tree roots. he glanced toward the hut, where he could faintly see y/n’s silhouette through the window.

the evening sun painted the sky with shades of amber and pink, its warm glow spilling through the trees and casting dappled light onto the forest floor.

y/n approached hyunjin cautiously, her small frame barely making a sound as she stepped over roots and leaves. her hands clutched a wooden tray of food she’d carefully prepared—fruits, nuts, and a bowl of fresh water gathered from the spring. her wings, brighter now in the fading light, folded neatly behind her, their tips brushing the sides of her flowing dress.

hyunjin sat by the same tree, his legs stretched out and his arms resting on his knees. he looked up as she approached, his dark eyes catching the golden light. a faint smile curved his lips, the kind that felt like a secret shared only between the two of them, though she wasn’t in the mood to reciprocate.

“you again,” he said lightly, his voice carrying a warmth that contrasted with the tense energy she brought with her. “i thought your guard dog would’ve chained you to the hut by now.”

“don’t,” she cut him off sharply, her voice firmer than he’d ever heard it before. she stopped a few paces away, her fingers tightening around the tray. “i didn’t come here to exchange jokes.”

his smile faded slightly, replaced by an expression of mild surprise. he sat up straighter, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “alright,” he said carefully, leaning back against the tree. “what d-”

“you need to leave, hyunjin.”

the words hung in the air, heavier than the twilight. hyunjin’s eyebrows lifted, and he tilted his head slightly, studying her. “so you agree now?”

“yes,” she said, stepping closer and setting the tray down on the ground between them. she straightened, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared down at him. “felix is right. lunis is right. you shouldn’t be here. you don’t belong here.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing despite the weight of her words. “harsh. you’re not exactly rolling out the welcome mat, are you?”

she didn’t respond to his humor, her face remaining serious. “this island is not meant for humans like you. it’s dangerous—for you and for us.”

“dangerous?” he echoed, his voice softening slightly. “i don’t see anything dangerous about you, though.” his gaze flicked to her wings, his expression unreadable.

her wings twitched slightly, a reflex she couldn’t suppress, but her face didn’t falter. “that’s exactly the problem,” she said quietly. “you don’t understand. you don’t know what you’ve stumbled into.”

hyunjin leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees as he looked up at her. “then explain it to me. help me understand.”

“no,” she said quickly, shaking her head. “it’s not for you to know! it’s not for you to be here. you need to leave.”

he let out a soft sigh, leaning back again. “i need to.. but how do you expect me to leave? swim?”

“i don’t care how you leave,” she said, her voice harder now, though there was a tremble beneath it that betrayed her emotions. “you just… you can’t stay. we don’t know you. we don’t know what you’ll bring here.”

hyunjin was silent for a moment, his eyes searching her face. when he spoke again, his voice was quieter. “you’re scared of me.”

her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her wings fluttering slightly behind her. “i’m not scared of you,” she said, though the words sounded more like a defense than a truth.

“you are,” he said softly. “not for yourself, maybe. but for the others. for the island.”

her gaze snapped back to him, her eyes narrowing. “don’t pretend like you know me. you don’t know anything about me or why i’m asking you to leave.”

he raised his hands slightly in mock surrender. “alright, fair enough. i don’t know you. but i do know one thing—you healed me.”

her breath hitched slightly, and she looked away again. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“yes, you do,” he said, his tone still gentle. “i woke up, and the wounds were gone. that wasn’t an accident. that was you.”

“you quite almost admitted it to your little.. pixie back at the shore, you know.”

her hands clenched into fists at her sides, and her wings twitched again, a faint glow pulsing through them despite the dim light. “you’re hearing things,” she said, her voice quieter now.

he didn’t push her further, sensing the walls she’d built around herself. instead, he leaned back again, his head resting against the tree trunk as he let out a soft sigh. “alright, i’ll leave. but let me ask you something first.”

she looked at him warily, her wings settling behind her. “what?”

“if you were so certain i shouldn’t be here,” he said, his eyes meeting hers, “why did you save me?”

the question hit her like a gust of wind, stealing the breath from her lungs. she opened her mouth to respond but found no words, her voice lost somewhere in the turmoil of her thoughts.

“i…” she began, but the sound of felix’s voice calling her name from the hut cut through the air like a blade.

her wings snapped shut against her back, and she took a step away from hyunjin. “i have to go,” she said quickly, her voice unsteady.

“of course,” he said softly, watching as she turned and hurried back toward the hut, her wings shimmering faintly in the fading light.

as she disappeared into the trees, hyunjin leaned his head back against the trunk, a faint, bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “you're scared,” he murmured to himself, “but not of me.”

and that's how their story began.

the soft babble of the stream echoed through the forest as y/n crouched by the water’s edge, her wings glimmering faintly under the dappled sunlight. she was humming a soft tune, her hands carefully filling a large, carved wooden bowl with the crystal-clear water. hyunjin approached quietly from behind, his presence as calm as the gentle breeze.

“you hum a lot,” hyunjin said, crouching beside her. his voice was low but playful, laced with the kind of teasing she’d grown used to over the past two months.

y/n glanced at him, her brown eyes sparkling. “and you sulk a lot.”

hyunjin chuckled, dipping his hands into the stream to feel the coolness of the water. “i don’t sulk.”

“oh, you do,” she replied, lifting the bowl and standing up. she turned to him, her wings fluttering slightly. “you sulk when felix doesn’t trust you, you sulk when i win an argument, and you definitely sulk when you get caught staring.”

he froze mid-motion, his dark eyes widening slightly before narrowing into an embarrassed glare. “i do not—”

“do too,” she cut him off, sticking her tongue out playfully before turning to walk back toward the hut.

hyunjin stood there for a moment, watching her retreating figure, her light brown hair catching the sun and her wings shimmering like they were spun from golden silk. he let out a soft, defeated laugh before following her.

the hut was filled with the earthy scent of freshly picked mushrooms and herbs. y/n stood at the small wooden counter, chopping the ingredients with quick, precise movements. hyunjin leaned against the wall nearby, watching her with an amused expression.

“are you going to help, or are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” y/n asked without looking up, her voice sweet but teasing.

“you think i'm pretty?”

“everyone's pretty.”

“fine then, i’m more useful looking pretty,” hyunjin quipped, crossing his arms. “besides, last time i tried to help, felix nearly threw me out for ruining the stew.”

y/n giggled, her wings twitching slightly as she glanced over her shoulder at him. “you can’t ruin this one. it’s just mushroom soup. even you can’t mess that up.”

he pushed off the wall and came to stand beside her, his shoulder brushing hers lightly. “fine. tell me what to do, boss.”

“start with these,” she said, handing him a bundle of herbs. “tear the leaves off gently. don’t crush them.”

hyunjin took the herbs and began working, his fingers surprisingly deft. for a moment, they worked in comfortable silence, the sound of chopping and the crackle of the fire filling the room.

“you’re getting better at this,” y/n admitted, glancing at him.

he smirked, meeting her gaze. “careful, y/n. if you keep complimenting me, i might start thinking you like having me around.”

“don’t push your luck, prince.”

the night was calm, the sky above them a tapestry of stars. y/n and hyunjin sat on a log near the edge of the forest, the faint sound of waves crashing against the shore in the distance.

y/n hugged her knees to her chest, her wings tucked neatly behind her. “do you miss it?” she asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“miss what?” hyunjin asked, leaning back on his hands as he looked up at the stars.

“the kingdom. your home.”

he was quiet for a moment, his gaze fixed on the heavens. “sometimes,” he admitted. “but it’s not like the stories, y/n. it’s not all grand halls and royal banquets. there’s… a lot of pressure. expectations.”

she looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity. “but you were a prince. isn’t that… amazing?”

hyunjin turned to her, his expression soft but serious. “it sounds amazing until you realize you don’t get to choose your own life. you don’t get to be free.” he paused, his gaze dropping to her wings. “here, it’s different. you’re free.”

she blinked, taken aback by the vulnerability in his voice. “but we’re not free either. we’re trapped on this island, waiting for something we’re not even sure exists anymore.”

hyunjin reached out hesitantly, his fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. “you don’t seem trapped to me,” he said softly.

her cheeks flushed, and she quickly pulled her hand back, breaking the moment. “you’re impossible,” she muttered, standing up.

“and you’re adorable,” he called after her, earning a glare that was more flustered than angry.

the three of them sat around the fire in the hut, felix sharpening a knife while hyunjin and y/n bickered about something trivial.

“i’m just saying,” hyunjin argued, leaning forward, “if i were in charge of gathering berries, we wouldn’t have run out last week.”

“that’s because you’d eat them all before we even got home,” y/n shot back, her wings twitching in irritation.

felix snorted, surprising both of them. they turned to look at him, and he shrugged, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “she’s got a point, hyunjin.”

hyunjin gasped in mock betrayal. “et tu, felix?”

“don’t push your luck,” felix said, though his tone was lighter than usual. he glanced at y/n, his expression softening. “you two are loud enough to scare away every creature in the forest.”

“as if we're not all friends with them.” y/n stuck her tongue out at him, but the warmth in his voice didn’t go unnoticed. despite his cautious nature, felix had grown used to hyunjin’s presence, even if he didn’t fully trust him yet.

“hold still,” hyunjin said, stepping closer.

she froze as he reached up, his fingers gently pulling a vine free from her tangled brown hair. his touch was careful, almost reverent, and when he looked down at her, their faces were inches apart.

her breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath with her. his dark eyes searched hers, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a faint smile.

“you have the worst luck with plants,” he murmured.

“and you have the worst timing,” she shot back, though her voice was soft.

his smile widened, but he didn’t move away.

“y/n! hyunjin!” felix’s voice called from inside the hut, breaking the moment.

she stepped back quickly, her cheeks flushing as she turned toward the door. “we’re coming!” she called, her voice higher than usual.

hyunjin watched her retreat, a small, bittersweet smile playing on his lips. “saved by the guard dog,” he muttered under his breath, following her inside.

the day began like any other. the sun rose over the island, golden light cascading through the trees, and the morning was filled with the soft hum of the forest’s life. y/n fluttered about the hut as usual, her wings shimmering faintly in the light, while hyunjin watched her with his usual soft amusement. felix was out gathering supplies, leaving the two alone.

by midday, y/n had gone quiet. she drifted to the shore after lunch, her head low, her shoulders slumped. hyunjin watched her go but didn’t follow right away. she often needed time to herself, especially when the weight of their missing friends grew heavy in her heart.

she sat near the edge of the water, her wings folded tightly against her back as she drew aimless patterns in the sand with her finger. the gentle waves lapped at the shore, and the sound, usually comforting, only reminded her of the emptiness she felt. the pixie butterflies, always fluttering nearby, hovered uncertainly.

“y/n,” one of them chirped, its tiny voice tinged with concern. “you shouldn’t be sad. they’ll come back. they always come back.”

she gave the butterfly a small, weary smile. “i hope so,” she murmured. “but it’s been so long. what if something happened to them? what if they can’t find their way back?”

another pixie, its glow faint in the daylight, landed on her knee. “you’re not alone,” it said, its voice soft. “you have us. you have felix. and… you have him.”

y/n blinked, her gaze lifting toward the trees. she could see a figure approaching, and her heart sank slightly. she didn’t want him to see her like this.

but it was too late. hyunjin was already there.

“hey,” hyunjin called softly, his voice cutting through the sound of the waves.

she quickly wiped at her eyes, pretending she hadn’t been crying. “what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound annoyed, but her voice cracked, betraying her.

“looking for you,” hyunjin sat beside her, his dark eyes scanning her face. he frowned. “you’ve been crying.”

“no, i haven’t,” she lied, turning away.

“y/n,” he said again, his voice gentle but firm. he reached out, his fingers brushing against her arm. “talk to me.”

for a moment, she didn’t respond. the silence stretched between them, filled only by the rhythm of the waves. finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping.

“i miss them,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “felix acts like everything’s fine, but what if it’s not? what if they’re hurt? or… or worse?”

hyunjin’s chest tightened at the sight of her distress. he’d seen her cheerful, teasing, radiant. this version of her—fragile and vulnerable—pulled at something deep inside him.

“they’ll come back,” he said softly. “they wouldn’t leave you behind. not forever.”

she shook her head, her wings trembling slightly. “you don’t know that. you don’t know them.”

“no, i don’t,” he admitted. “but i know you. and i know your love for them. and that you’re strong enough to wait for them. strong enough to hope.”

her lip trembled, and she looked away, but he wasn’t going to let her retreat.

he shifted closer, sitting beside her in the sand. he didn’t speak right away, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. slowly, hesitantly, she leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder.

he froze for a moment, startled by the sudden closeness, but then his body relaxed. his arm came up around her shoulders, holding her gently.

“i don’t want to be strong all the time,” she confessed, her voice muffled against him.

“you don’t have to be,” he said quietly. “not with me.”

the pixie butterflies fluttered around them, their tiny voices whispering reassurances, but neither y/n nor hyunjin paid them any mind.

“you’re better at this than i thought,” she muttered after a moment, her voice tinged with the faintest hint of her usual teasing.

hyunjin chuckled softly. “at what?”

“at… comforting,” she said, her wings twitching slightly.

“i’m a quick learner,” he replied, his tone warm.

the sun had soon began to set, casting the sky in hues of pink and orange. the golden light bathed them, and y/n finally pulled away, just enough to look up at him. her eyes searched his face, taking in the softness of his expression, the way the light danced in his dark eyes.

“why are you always here when i need you?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“maybe because i need you too,” he said simply.

her breath hitched, and for a moment, neither of them moved. the world seemed to hold its breath with them, the only sound the gentle crash of the waves.

hyunjin’s hand came up, hesitating for a moment before brushing a strand of hair from her face. his fingers lingered, and his gaze dropped to her lips.

“y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and full of emotion.

she didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. and that was all the invitation he needed. slowly, carefully, he leaned in, his lips brushing hers in a kiss that was soft and hesitant but full of unspoken feelings.

his breath was warm, tasting faintly of honey and wild berries as it mingled with hers, soft and trembling against the curve of her mouth. the kiss was delicate at first, like a whispered secret, but it deepened with the gravity of unspoken longing — slow, careful, reverent. his hand rose instinctively to cradle her face, the pad of his thumb brushing lightly over her cheek as if to memorize the contours of her fragility.

her wings quivered behind her, the faint luminescence pulsing in rhythm with her heart, each beat a spark of life tethered to his touch. as the kiss unfolded, her fingers knotted into the coarse fabric of his tunic, grasping as if he might vanish like a dream. a small sigh escaped her lips as his kiss became more certain, a tender pressure that spoke of yearning held back for too long.

there, between them, time stretched and blurred. every fleeting caress of his lips on hers sent a warmth spiraling through her chest, a fire that burned but did not consume. when they finally drew apart, breathless and trembling, their foreheads touched, the world around them silent but for the echo of their shared heartbeat. neither dared speak, afraid that words might shatter the fragile, aching beauty of the moment.

“thank you,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

“for what?” he asked, his voice equally soft.

“for being here.”

he smiled, his hand gently cupping her cheek. “always.”

and as the first stars began to appear in the night sky, they stayed there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the rest of the world forgotten.

the sun was low in the sky, its warm hues bleeding into the deep green of the woods and the soft blues of the shore. y/n and hyunjin walked side by side, the sand beneath their feet cool as the tide ebbed and flowed. felix had stayed behind at the hut, muttering something about needing to sort the herbs and supplies, though they both knew he was giving them space.

hyunjin held a woven basket filled with fruits they’d picked from the trees near the shore. it wasn’t heavy, but he made a show of carrying it with exaggerated effort.

“oh no,” he groaned dramatically, his knees bending as if he might collapse under the imaginary weight. “it’s just… so heavy. i’m not sure i’ll make it.”

y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “you’re insufferable,” she said, plucking a bright blue fruit from the basket and taking a bite. its juice stained her lips, the taste sweet and tangy.

“i’m the one carrying the basket, y/n,” he shot back, smirking. “the least you could do is thank me.”

“thank you, oh mighty prince,” she replied, her voice dripping with mock reverence. “how ever would i survive without your unparalleled strength?”

he laughed, the sound light and genuine, and y/n felt her heart flutter. she looked away quickly, pretending to focus on a tiny cluster of pixie butterflies that flitted nearby.

as the day stretched into the golden hues of the late afternoon, they moved into the woods. the canopy above was thick, filtering the sunlight into soft beams that danced across the ground. hyunjin reached up to pluck a low-hanging flower with petals that shimmered faintly, handing it to y/n with a flourish.

“for you,” he said with a grin, holding it out dramatically as if offering her the most precious treasure.

y/n accepted it with a small laugh, tucking it into her hair. “do you do this for all the ladies you meet?”

“just the prettiest ones,” he said, winking, and she smacked his arm lightly.

they walked further, hyunjin listening intently as y/n pointed out different plants and their uses. he was fascinated by how much she knew about the forest, about the life that thrived here.

“you know,” he said, leaning against a tree, “i used to think the stories about faeries and magical islands were just that—stories. something to entertain bored princesses.”

“and now?” she asked, tilting her head to look at him.

“now i think the stories didn’t do you justice,” he said softly, and her cheeks flushed.

by the time night fell, they were lying on a patch of soft grass beneath the open sky. the stars were brilliant, their light scattered like diamonds across the dark canvas. fireflies danced in the air, their glow adding a soft warmth to the cool night.

y/n lay on her back, her wings spread out behind her like a shimmering halo. hyunjin lay beside her, his head propped on one arm as he watched her.

“you know,” he said after a moment, “i think i could stay here forever.”

she turned her head to look at him, her brows furrowing slightly. “you say that now,” she said. “but what about your kingdom? your life there?”

he shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “what about it? it doesn’t feel like my life anymore.”

y/n was silent for a moment, her gaze drifting back to the stars. “you don’t miss it?”

“there are things i miss,” he admitted. “my mother, for one. but most of it? no. i was born into a life that was decided for me. here, with you and felix… it feels like i’m finally making my own choices.”

y/n smiled softly at that, her heart warming. “i’m glad you feel that way.”

he shifted closer, his arm brushing against hers. “what about you?” he asked. “do you ever wish for something more than this island?”

she thought about it, her eyes fixed on the sky. “sometimes,” she said honestly. “but then i think about how much i love this place. the forest, the creatures, felix, our friends… it’s my home.”

“it’s a beautiful home,” hyunjin said softly.

they talked for hours, their voices soft and steady as the night deepened around them. hyunjin told her stories of his childhood, of the palace gardens and the books he’d read. y/n shared tales of the forest, of her first flight, and the mischief she’d gotten into with felix.

at some point, y/n’s eyelids began to droop, her words becoming slower and softer. hyunjin noticed and smiled, his heart swelling at the sight of her peaceful expression.

“sleep, y/n,” he murmured, his voice low and gentle.

“i’m fine,” she mumbled, but her wings gave a small, sleepy flutter.

he shook his head, chuckling softly. “come here,” he said, reaching out to pull her closer.

she didn’t resist, letting him wrap an arm around her and pull her against his chest. his other hand rested lightly on the edge of her wings, careful not to disturb them.

“you’re warm,” she muttered, her voice muffled against him.

“good,” he said, resting his chin lightly on the top of her head. “now sleep.”

her breathing slowed, and soon she was asleep, her body relaxed against his. hyunjin stayed awake a little longer, his eyes fixed on the stars above. he didn’t know what the future held, but in that moment, with y/n in his arms and the forest around them, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be.

the forest was deathly quiet under the pale silver of the moon. the fireflies were gone, the night was still, and the warm hum of life that usually enveloped the woods felt like a distant memory. y/n stirred, her face pressing against the grass as her eyes fluttered open.

a searing, unbearable pain jolted through her entire body. it was a sharp, raw agony that made her gasp, her hands scrambling to her back. her heart stopped when her fingers brushed against the sticky wetness of her blood, now pooling and staining the grass.

she tried to sit up but collapsed back with a cry. her breathing was shallow and frantic as her mind tried to make sense of what was happening. her wings—her beautiful, radiant wings—were gone. all she could feel was the torn flesh of her back, blood trickling down in rivulets.

her trembling gaze darted around the clearing, searching, desperate. feathers. blood. emptiness. the pain was unbearable, but the hollow ache in her heart felt worse.

“w-where…” she rasped, choking on the words. tears blurred her vision as her fingers clawed at the ground, pulling herself forward.

and then she saw him.

in the distance, just beyond the trees, hyunjin stood. his figure was shadowed under the moonlight, but she could make out the shape of her wings in his trembling hands. they drooped lifelessly, their glow gone, coated in her blood.

her breath hitched. a wave of disbelief and nausea overtook her as her eyes trailed to the dagger in his hand, its blade glinting with crimson.

“hyunjin…” her voice broke, barely above a whisper.

he flinched at the sound of her voice, his whole body stiffening. slowly, his head turned toward her, his face pale and twisted with torment.

“hyunjin!” her voice was louder now, raw and filled with anguish. she clawed at the grass, dragging her weakened body toward him. “w-what… what did you…?”

he didn’t move. his grip on her wings was trembling, his eyes wide with tears. “y/n,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “i—”

“you… you c-cut them?” she stammered, her lips quivering as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. her body was shaking violently now, both from the pain and the heartbreak. “m-my wings… why?”

he didn’t answer. he couldn’t. his jaw quivered, and his knees threatened to give out.

“i trusted you,” she choked out, her voice rising with each word. “i… i loved you, hyunjin. and you—”

“i love you,” he interrupted, his voice cracking. tears streamed down his face, but his hands gripped the wings tighter, his knuckles white. “i… i’m so sorry, y/n. i… i had no choice.. i had t-”

“no,” she screamed, her voice breaking into a sob. “no, you didn’t! you didn’t have to—” her words dissolved into cries, her body collapsing to the ground as her strength gave out.

“i’m so sorry,” hyunjin whispered again, his voice trembling. he took one faltering step back, then another. “i didn’t… i didn’t want to…”

“don’t go,” she whimpered, her voice barely audible now. her hand reached out weakly toward him, blood smearing the ground beneath her. “pleae, don’t…”

but he was already backing away, his expression twisted with anguish. “i… i can’t stay,” he said, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry…”

and then he turned, running toward the shore.

“hyunjin!” she called after him, but her voice cracked, her throat raw. she collapsed again, her vision swimming as the edges of her world began to darken.

the pixies found her first, their tiny voices shrill with panic. “y/n! oh no—oh no, no, no…”

they fluttered around her, their delicate wings buzzing frantically. one of them darted off into the woods, heading straight for felix.

felix burst into the clearing moments later, his eyes wide with horror as they landed on her crumpled form. “y/n!” he shouted, rushing to her side. his hands hovered above her, trembling as he took in the blood, the missing wings, the lifeless feathers scattered around her.

“who did this?” he demanded, his voice sharp with fury and heartbreak. “y/n, tell me! who—”

she couldn’t answer. her lips moved, but no sound came out. her eyes, filled with pain and betrayal, flickered toward the shore.

felix followed her gaze, and his heart sank. “no,” he breathed, his voice low and dangerous. “no. it couldn’t be…”

but deep down, he knew.

his hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as rage overtook him. he stood abruptly, his eyes narrowing in the direction of the shore. “stay here,” he said, his voice trembling with anger. “i’ll get him. i’ll make him pay for this.”

“felix…” y/n’s voice was barely a whisper, but he was already gone, running toward the shore.

hyunjin was by the boat when felix arrived, frantically shoving supplies into it. his hands were shaking, and his face was pale, streaked with tears.

“you fucking bastard,” felix roared, his voice booming across the shore.

felix lunged forward, but before he could reach him, hyunjin pushed the boat into the water and jumped in. felix tried to grab him, but the boat was already drifting away, carried by the tide.

“coward!” felix shouted after him, his voice filled with rage and despair. “you’re nothing but a pathetic coward! all of you humans are the same,”

felix stood on the shore, his chest heaving as the weight of what had happened settled over him. slowly, he turned back toward the forest, his heart breaking all over again at the thought of y/n lying there, broken and betrayed.

the forest felt heavier than ever, suffocating under the weight of y/n’s broken sobs. the pixies fluttered around her in disarray, their tiny voices trembling with fear and sorrow. they tried their best to help her, but their small hands could do so little against the open wounds where her wings once were. blood soaked into the grass beneath her, and her body trembled violently as she tried to sit up.

felix was kneeling beside her, his hands trembling as he carefully inspected the jagged, raw flesh on her back. his breath hitched, and he bit down hard on his lip to keep himself from breaking. he had always been her protector, her shield. but now, seeing her like this, so shattered and vulnerable, he felt utterly helpless.

y/n clutched at the grass beneath her, her nails digging into the dirt as if it were the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. her sobs were wrenching, filled with a pain that cut deeper than anything felix had ever heard before.

“my wings…” she whimpered, her voice cracking. “they’re gone,” she choked on her words, her whole body shaking as tears streamed down her face. “he took them, he took them,”

felix clenched his jaw, his heart splintering into a thousand pieces. he carefully leaned closer, his voice soft but thick with emotion. “y/n, don’t… don’t try to move. please,” he begged, his voice almost breaking. “let me, let me take care of you.”

she turned her tear-streaked face toward him, her eyes filled with devastation. “felix, it hurts,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “it hurts so much…”

“i know,” he said, his voice shaking. he reached out to gently brush her hair away from her face, his touch tender and careful. “i know, y/nnie, i’m so sorry. i’m so sorry. i couldn't protect you from that-”

the pixies flitted closer, their tiny hands trying to staunch the bleeding with makeshift cloths woven from leaves. their voices were small and filled with sorrow as they worked together, murmuring apologies and soft reassurances.

felix’s hands were steady despite his own breaking heart. he pressed a clean cloth—one the pixies handed him—against her back, trying to stop the bleeding. she let out a pained cry, her body arching slightly from the sting, and felix froze. “i’m sorry,” he whispered quickly, his voice trembling. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i have to stop the bleeding. i know it hurts. please don't leave me,”

her cries softened into whimpers as she buried her face into the crook of her arm, too weak to fight back. tears streamed freely down felix’s cheeks now, but he blinked them away, focusing entirely on her. “you’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice thick. “i’ll make sure of it. i promise.”

y/n’s voice was a broken whisper, her words catching on sobs. “he said he loved me, i trusted him, felix, i trusted him.”

felix felt something in his chest shatter entirely. he paused for a moment, his hands hovering above her wound as he struggled to compose himself. “i know,” he murmured, his voice barely holding together. “i know you did. and he… he didn’t deserve that trust. he didn’t deserve you.”

her crying only grew louder, her entire body trembling as she tried to speak but couldn’t find the words. felix couldn’t hold back anymore. he wrapped his arms around her gently, pulling her fragile, trembling form against his chest. “it’s okay,” he whispered, his voice soft but shaking. “it’s okay, y/n. let it out. i’ve got you.”

she sobbed against him, her fists weakly clutching his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely. felix held her tighter, his chin resting on the top of her head as tears slipped down his own cheeks. “you’re safe now,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re safe. i won’t let anyone hurt you again. i promise.”

the pixies buzzed around them, their small hands still trying to help where they could. one of them placed a tiny hand on felix’s arm, their voice trembling. “we’ll take care of her, too,” they said softly. “we’ll stay by her side.”

felix nodded, his throat too tight to speak. his fingers gently combed through y/n’s hair, his heart aching with every broken sob that escaped her lips.

“it’s okay to cry,” he whispered after a moment, his voice soothing and steady. “you don’t have to hold it in, y/n. i’m here. i’ll always be here.”

her sobs began to quiet after what felt like hours, her body still trembling but her breathing slowing. felix stayed with her, his arms wrapped around her protectively, his heart breaking with every tear she shed.

when her voice finally came, it was barely audible, a fragile whisper in the dark. “what am i without my wings, felix?”

“you’re y/n,” he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet strength. “you’re the strongest, kindest, most beautiful soul i’ve ever known. wings or no wings, you’re still you. and that’s all that matters.”

her tears came again, but this time they were softer, quieter. felix didn’t let go, holding her close as the night wore on. and in that moment, under the pale light of the moon, he silently vowed to never let anyone hurt her again.

y/n felt as though her soul had been torn in half, a gaping void where her wings once rested. the pain was not merely physical—it radiated deep into her core, an anguish that transcended her body and seeped into her spirit. it was as if the very essence of her being, the part that connected her to the skies and the world she loved, had been ripped away, leaving her hollow and unmoored.

the raw, jagged ache on her back was relentless, burning and stinging with every shallow breath she took. but it was nothing compared to the agony in her heart. her wings had been more than an extension of her body; they were her freedom, her identity, her connection to the magic of her world. without them, she felt like a shell of herself, reduced to something fragile and incomplete.

she could feel the emptiness, a haunting absence where her wings had once stretched, catching the sunlight and fluttering in the breeze. they had been a part of her, as vital as her heartbeat, as natural as her breath. now, she felt severed, unwhole, like a bird stripped of its feathers and cast to the ground, unable to fly, unable to soar.

the betrayal was a sharp, cutting ache that rivaled the physical pain. her mind replayed the scene over and over—the dagger glinting in the moonlight, the blood staining the earth, and the face she thought she could trust standing in the shadows. it was a cruel twist of fate, a nightmare come to life. she had let him in, let him see her, the parts of her that she guarded so carefully. and he had taken it all, with a single, merciless act.

tears poured down her face, each one heavy with grief, anger, and confusion. she didn’t understand. how could someone who had once spoken to her so tenderly, someone who had looked at her as though she were the most precious thing in the world, do this? how could he hold her heart in his hands and then shatter it so completely?

her chest heaved with the weight of her sobs, the sound raw and guttural, torn from a place deep inside her that she hadn’t even known existed. she felt like a child again—small, vulnerable, and helpless. her wings had been her strength, her shield against the world, and now they were gone, leaving her exposed and trembling.

she couldn’t stop the spiral of despair that consumed her. what was she now, without her wings? how could she face the world, the skies, her friends? she had always been the one who shone, who lifted others up with her light and laughter. now, she felt like nothing but a shadow, dim and fading.

the world around her seemed to dim as well, the colors muted, the sounds distant. the stars above, once her constant companions, felt cold and far away, as though they, too, had turned their backs on her. she felt untethered, adrift in a sea of pain and loss, with no anchor to hold onto, no way to find her way back.

every inch of her body ached, but it was her soul that bore the brunt of the pain. it was a grief so profound it swallowed her whole, leaving her gasping for air.

she was broken, utterly and completely, and she didn’t know if she could ever be pieced back together.

mastertag ୨୧ @cosmicalily @hyunjiiza @modesttiger

238 notes · View notes

sevarchive · 23 days ago

Text

♡ what the crown forgets ──

જ⁀➴ a barou shoei royal au story. 6.9k words

synopsis: in which a servant girl and a crown prince share a love too tender for a kingdom built on cruelty, and years later, all that remains is what the crown chose to forget.

a/n: this piece was written for a ticket from the ask roulette carnival! visit their original ticket here!

the palace was a place of noise. of clashing swords, echoing heels, and voices that never spoke gently.

it was built on sharp corners and sharper intentions, a labyrinth of polished stone and glinting steel. but tucked away within it, past the marble stairwells and velvet-lined corridors, was the old greenhouse, a forgotten space of moss and warmth.

and that was where he found you.

you were kneeling in the dirt, sleeves rolled to your elbows, replanting a frost-wilted herb with trembling fingers. a smear of earth stained your cheek.

barou shoei was twelve. even then, he carried himself like he owned the world. chin high, spine straight, eyes narrow and unflinching. there was a harshness to him, a precision; as if he couldn’t bear the idea of being out of control, even in stillness.

he wasn’t supposed to be there. you weren’t supposed to speak to him. but when you finally turned, your gaze met his with the calm of someone who didn’t know to be afraid of royalty.

or maybe you did. maybe you just chose not to flinch.

he didn’t say anything at first. just watched you press your hand over the roots like it was a prayer. when you moved to wipe your brow with your wrist, he spoke for the first time, quietly, but with an edge like steel unsheathed.

“…why’re you here by yourself?”

you blinked, startled. he was taller than you’d expected—broad-shouldered, arms crossed like he was bracing for impact, but his voice had come out softer than you'd ever imagined it could be.

“oh,” you said softly. “then i’ll go, if you want—”

“no,” he cut in quickly, then looked away, clearing his throat. “i mean. you don’t have to.”

there was a beat of silence. you weren’t sure how to respond. his eyes drifted to the ground, then to the half-wilting pot you were cradling. the tips of his ears had gone faintly pink. then, gruffly, as if needing to reroute the conversation somewhere safer:

“that plant. why are you doing it by hand?”

you glanced down at your dirt-smeared fingers, curled around the base of the wilted herb.

“because she’s still alive,” you murmured, voice low, like you didn’t want to disturb her. “and i didn’t want to hurt her more.”

barou stared, quiet for a second too long. his brows pulled together, not in annoyance, but something closer to... confusion and curiosity.

“she?” he repeated. “you gave it a name?”

“no,” you said, shaking your head. “but she’s still trying. even if it doesn’t look like it. it felt wrong to just rip her out.”

he looked at you like you’d said something foreign. like your kindness was a language no one had ever spoken to him.

“…that’s dumb,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “but… not in a bad way.”

you smiled, just barely. “thanks… i think?”

“don’t get weird about it,” he grumbled. “i’m just saying. plants are usually trash after they wilt. but that one looks like it’s… i dunno. hanging on.”

you tilted your head. “kind of like you?”

barou froze. you weren’t even teasing him, just observing, honest. but it made him go stiff, like no one had ever looked at him that closely before.

“…you talk too much,” he mumbled under his breath, but there was no venom in it.

you just went back to your work, still smiling. and even though he muttered something about how you were “too sentimental for your own good”.

he went back the other day.

at first, he didn’t speak. he would sit on the stone bench as you worked, arms crossed, judging your technique with the same intensity he reserved for sparring drills. sometimes, he'd correct your posture. sometimes, he'd mutter complaints about the lack of order in the greenhouse, kicking a crooked pail back into line with his boot. you learned quickly that he hated chaos. hated weakness. hated being seen as anything other than perfectly composed.

but one day, he came bruised.

a fresh cut split his bottom lip. dirt clung to his royal tunic like shame, and his right hand was bloodied at the knuckles. it looked like he'd hit something harder than bone.

you stood quickly, heart stammering. “what happened?”

he stopped in the doorway. not tense, just still, like he hadn’t expected anyone to ask.

“training,” he said, voice low, almost hoarse. “i lost control.”

you’d seen boys from the training courts before. you’d cleaned scraped knees and bruised ribs. but this was something else. and the gold embroidery on his collar suddenly meant more.

your voice dropped. “you’re one of them, aren’t you? you’re—royalty. then i should’ve said… your majesty.”

but instead of smugness or pride, his expression changed. sharpened. something between irritation and sorrow.

“don’t call me that,” he said, flatly.

you blinked. “but—”

“i’m not a title,” he muttered. “just call me barou.”

you paused. let the name settle.

“…barou,” you repeated, softly.

he glanced at your hands, now clenched nervously at your sides. “are you gonna keep staring, or are you gonna fix it?”

you looked up, startled—then exhaled a shaky breath and stepped forward. “let me see.”

he hesitated and you could feel it. this invisible wall between you. his pride, his silence, his need to stay strong, even when bleeding. and the moment your fingers touched his, he went still. not tense. just… quiet. like no one had touched him gently in a long time.

you cleaned the wound in silence. the cloth turned red quickly, but he didn’t flinch. he just watched you, like he couldn’t decide if you were real.

“you’re not afraid of me,” he said, voice softer now, barely more than breath.

you glanced up. “should i be?”

his jaw flexed. “everyone else is.”

you wiped the blood from the edge of his palm, careful, slow. “that must be lonely.”

he didn’t respond.

but his fingers curled slightly, just enough to brush yours.

“and you?” he asked, eyes shadowed beneath the bruise on his brow. “what should i call you?”

you blinked. “y/n.”

he said it under his breath once, like he was trying it out. like it was something he didn’t want to forget.

and when you finally let go of his hand, he didn’t move. not right away.

because for the first time, someone hadn’t bowed, hadn’t cowered, hadn’t tried to make him into something else.

you just called him barou. and for now, that was enough.

years passed.

he kept coming back. you were reassigned from greenhouse duty to kitchen scullery, then to laundry, then to armor cleaning, and yet somehow, he always found you. a rustle of silk in a storage room. a shadow behind you at the well. an apple left in your apron pocket.

you never spoke of what it was. you weren’t allowed to have something like this.

but on your seventeenth birthday, you found a ribbon in your sleeping quarters, deep crimson, finely woven. no note. no mark. but you knew.

he found you that night in the abandoned training yard.

he didn’t say hello. he just walked straight up to you, took your hand, and placed it on the hilt of his sword.

“you should know how to hold it,” he said.

and so you trained. in secret. in shadows. you learned how to parry his strength, how to spin on muddy ground, how to find stillness even when your chest was heaving. he never went easy on you. you never asked him to. and when you dropped your guard, he would sneer, not cruelly, but the way a king corrects a knight: with expectation.

dusty and flushed from training, hair tousled, tunic wrinkled, he’d drop beside you on the old stone bench like it was the only place his shoulders could rest. he always brought something to share. a piece of fruit. a crust of bread. sometimes just a quiet moment.

some days, you talked. some days, you didn’t need to.

but that night, the summer air was thick and slow, the kind that made everything feel like it was holding its breath. you sat beneath the open windows, legs drawn up, a slice of peach cupped in your palm. he sat closer than usual, shoulders brushing, knees touching.

he didn’t say anything at first. just tilted his head back, gaze turned to the stars like he was searching for something bigger than the palace walls.

“you ever think about leaving?” you asked, voice soft.

“all the time,” he said.

you turned to look at him. he didn’t turn back, but you saw the flicker of a smile on his lips.

“but not if it means leaving you behind.”

your heart fluttered. he finally turned his head, and you were suddenly too aware of how close he was—how his eyes softened when he looked at you, how the air between you had thinned into something fragile and bright.

“you don’t have to say that,” you whispered.

“tsk. what if i wanted to?”

the silence hummed, full of every shared moment that had brought you here. and then he leaned in, slow, hesitant, like he was giving you every chance to pull away.

you didn’t.

your lips met his, soft and trembling, the kind of kiss that said thank you and don’t go and i see you all at once.

when you pulled back, you didn’t speak. just pressed your forehead gently to his, letting your breath mingle in the quiet.

his eyes fluttered shut. his hand found yours, warm and certain between you.

“i’ll protect you,” he said, voice steady despite the softness. “no matter what. always.”

and in that moment—summer pressing against the windows, his promise tucked between your ribs, you believed him.

but peace was never meant to last in a palace built on power.

the morning after he kissed you, the world resumed like nothing had changed, bells rang, steel clashed in the courtyards, and you were ordered to scrub floors like always. you didn’t see him for days. no notes. no apple. nothing.

you told yourself not to panic. that this was just how things worked. that you were still just a servant. that it had meant more to you than it did to him.

but on the seventh day, when the sun dipped behind the spires and you thought maybe that night would pass like all the others…

there he was.

waiting in the old storeroom behind the kitchens, hair damp from training, chest rising and falling fast like he’d run the whole way there.

“you weren’t at the usual spot,” he said, half-breathless.

“you didn’t leave anything,” you replied, a little too quickly.

he stepped forward. you noticed the new bruises on his arms, the scuff on his jaw.

“too risky,” he murmured. “they’re watching me more.”

you swallowed. “then why are you here?”

his eyes found yours. “because i meant what i said.”

you didn’t realize how much you needed to hear that. how tightly you’d been clinging to the memory of that kiss, of his hand in yours, of the way his voice had sounded when he made that promise.

he reached for you, not with urgency, but with care. fingers brushing your wrist first, asking. you stepped into him.

and for a moment, it was simple again.

you let your head rest against his chest, and he let his chin settle into your hair. no words. just breath and heartbeat.

but even then, the world was shifting.

whispers in the hallways. council meetings that ran too long. messengers arriving from distant borders. you didn’t understand the details, but you didn’t need to. you could feel it—like thunder in your bones.

one night, you caught barou alone in the old training yard again, slashing at a dummy like it had insulted him.

“is something wrong?” you asked, approaching carefully.

he didn’t stop.

“barou.”

he stilled, blade raised mid-air.

“there’s going to be a war,” he said, not turning around. “maybe not now. but soon.”

you felt the chill of those words run through you.

“then we’ll run,” you whispered. “if it gets bad—we’ll leave. like we always talked about.”

but when he turned to face you, something in his eyes had changed.

“i can’t run,” he said. “if i do, they win. and this kingdom will stay the same forever.”

you looked at him. and for the first time, he didn’t feel like the boy who kissed your temple with shaking hands.

he looked like a prince.

no, like a king, waiting to be crowned by fire and consequence.

“you still promise?” you asked softly. “to protect me?”

he nodded once. “even if i die doing it.”

and the terrible thing was: you believed him.

you always had.

the tension had been building for weeks.

you could feel it in the halls, in the way soldiers passed without speaking, in how the palace windows stayed shuttered even when the sun was high. whispers curled like smoke through the scullery: about distant borders, about broken treaties, about the blood already spilled in places you couldn’t see.

one night, someone was knocking at your door and you opened it.

and there he was, standing in the glow of a dying lantern, eyes wild, mouth pressed into a line like he’d swallowed everything he wanted to say and couldn’t hold it back anymore.

his voice was low. steady. but you heard the tremble beneath it.

“i’m leaving at dawn.”

your breath caught.

not leaving the palace. not leaving the city.

war.

you didn’t speak.

because if you did, you would’ve begged him not to go. and he would’ve hated himself for still having to.

“i couldn’t go without seeing you again,” he said.

“you should’ve let me sleep,” you whispered, tears already rising to your throat. “it would’ve hurt less.”

“no,” he said. “it wouldn’t have.”

then he kissed you.

harder than the first time. desperate. full of heat and grief and everything neither of you knew how to say. his hands cradled your jaw like he was afraid you’d break apart. your fingers fisted in his shirt, dragging him closer like you needed his heartbeat to remind you you were still here.

the world disappeared.

he touched you like he needed to memorize every part of you. like he had to leave himself behind in your skin. there was nothing soft in it—only want, only devotion, only the kind of tenderness that hurts because you know it can’t last.

you said yes to him like it was a promise. like it was a goodbye. like you had nothing else left to give but this.

he was careful with you, but not hesitant. you were both trembling, both too full of each other. he held your gaze the whole time, wouldn’t let you look away. and when your bodies finally came together, you felt something inside you give.

not just your innocence. but every last part of you that had ever belonged to anyone else.

you gave it to him. willingly. entirely. forever.

after, he wrapped you in his arms and pulled you into his chest like he was afraid the world might come crashing through the door. he didn’t speak for a long time.

“i don’t want to go.”

you swallowed. “then stay.”

“i can’t.”

you pressed your forehead to his collarbone, hot tears sliding down your cheek. “then lie to me. just for tonight.”

he held you tighter.

“i’ll come back,” he whispered, even though you both knew what kind of promise that was.

you slept in his arms, still aching, still full of him, heart pounding like it was trying to hold the moment in place.

but when you woke up, he was gone. the sheets were cold. the candle had burned out. and where his body had been, there was only silence. a crimson ribbon lay by your pillow.

you held it to your chest and cried until your throat was raw, until the ache settled deep into your bones.

a week later, you were reassigned. no explanation. no reason. just a new uniform. they transferred you to the queen’s wing—higher in the palace, nearer its heart, yet farther from everything that had ever mattered.

you kept your head down. you worked. you watched.

the queen’s chambers gleamed: golden, still, filled with mirrors. sometimes, you glimpsed your reflection but didn’t recognize the girl staring back.

the queen did.

she started watching you—closely, openly. draped across her chaise with a glass of wine in hand, she’d trace the rim with her finger and say nothing, while her gaze followed your every move like a cat waiting to pounce.

at first, you thought it was suspicion. later, you realized it was design.

she would call you closer for the smallest things: a dropped ring, an adjustment to her sleeve, a whispered command you had to lean in to hear. you obeyed without question, feeling the noose tighten every day. the other maids stopped speaking to you. some wouldn’t meet your eyes.

and then— one evening, a nobleman brushed past you in the corridor.

“the queen has asked for you,” he murmured.

you told yourself it was just another errand. but your hands were shaking before you even opened the door.

war strips you. not just of sleep. not just of hunger. not even just of fear. it carves the softness out of you with a serrated blade and then feeds it to the dogs.

i came back with blood under my nails and a silence so loud it roared in my skull. the scent of rot and burning flesh had woven itself into my skin. i scrubbed until it peeled. it didn’t leave.

they said we won. they cheered. called me their “savior.” poured wine i didn’t drink and pinned a new medal over an old wound.

but all i could think about was her.

her.

every time i sharpened my blade. every time i stitched my own skin shut. every time i watched men die choking on their teeth, i thought of her.

the way she used to kneel in the dirt with green on her fingers. how her laugh used to sound like it didn’t belong in this world.

how she looked at me—like i was human. like i was something worth saving.

i didn’t want the throne. i wanted her.

so the moment the gates rose from the horizon like some cruel promise of home, i didn’t stop. didn’t sleep. didn’t breathe.

i didn’t even change out of my armor.

i went to find her. they said she’d been reassigned again. i stormed through the corridors like the war hadn’t ended. like i still had something left to fight. and then i found her.

the door slammed open so hard it bounced off the wall.

heat punched out of the laundry room. wet, sour, thick with steam and soap. but i didn’t feel it. because she was there.

bent over a basin. sleeves shoved to her elbows. hair pinned up like it hadn’t changed. like nothing had changed. like i hadn’t just killed for the right to see her again.

my body locked. my chest seized. her head turned, slow and hesitant, until her eyes met mine.

and for a heartbeat, i felt nothing.

then everything. all at once. too much to hold.

and then i saw him. a man. standing next to her.

a guard. one of the queen’s favorites.

his hand was on her. gripping her elbow. holding her steady, like she couldn’t even stand on her own. and she didn’t move.

didn’t push him away. didn’t look ashamed. didn’t even flinch.

my hands curled into fists, nails digging in so deep they split the skin. my jaw locked so tight something cracked. heat roared in my ears, rushing too fast. my vision blurred at the edges, everything turning white.

she looked different.

paler. hollow. like someone had carved something out of her and left the shell behind.

but i didn’t see the bruises.

didn’t see the silence in her eyes.

all i saw was him. and her.

and red.

because if she had moved on, if everything we had meant nothing to her— if i went to war with her name burning in my mouth, only for her to let someone else take my place—

then i wasn’t the king. i was the fool.

and i would rather bleed again than be that. so i turned around.

didn’t speak. didn’t breathe. didn’t look back.

because if i had, i would’ve cracked. would’ve asked. would’ve begged.

and kings don’t beg. they burn.

the palace changed after that day.

not with screams. not with blood. just silence.

doors that closed too slowly. eyes that lingered too long. a coldness that clung to my skin like frost. i kept working, head down, hands steady. but the quiet had teeth.

people stopped speaking when i entered a room. guards ignored me. the cook who used to smile didn’t even look up. no one had to say anything cruel. the silence did it for them.

one morning, on my knees in the queen’s chamber, i heard laughter. polished. practiced. not hers.

then—his voice.

barou.

i froze. my cleaning cloth slipped from my fingers.

but it wasn’t him. not the boy who found me in the greenhouse, who once whispered that he saw me. not the boy who kissed me like he’d lose himself if he let go. this voice was hollow. empty. a stranger wearing his skin.

he didn’t know i was there. and i didn’t move until long after the voices were gone.

the queen didn’t wait.

whispers bloomed like rot. soft, poisoned phrases behind velvet curtains. and then she arrived, the noblewoman.

her carriage was blue as glacier glass, drawn by white horses brushed to a silver sheen. her cloak shimmered with real pearls. she stepped down with the kind of grace that’s taught in ballrooms, not learned in dirt-floored kitchens. her father controlled the eastern ports. her mother had danced for kings. she bore three ancestral titles before her name and had never been made to scrub her own floor.

she was everything the court admired—quiet, clean, soft-spoken, and untouchable.

she was what i could never be.

i was born in the servant’s hall. my hands smelled of soap and iron. my name was not stitched into any family crest. the closest i came to silk was folding it for someone else.

she stood beside him in the court garden like she belonged there. he wore ceremonial black. she wore cream silk that glowed like ivory in the sun.

the queen’s voice rang out like a songbird in a cage, declaring the engagement to the entire court. applause followed.

he didn’t speak. didn’t look at her.

didn’t look for me.

and still—i waited. like a fool. i watched the curve of his fingers as they handed him the parchment. i waited for a pause, for his jaw to clench, for his hand to falter.

but he didn’t hesitate. he signed his name in perfect, cold strokes.

like it meant nothing. like i never meant anything.

i heard the news the next morning from two maids whispering by the stairs.

“the prince is engaged.”

that was all. no celebration. no pause.

in the scullery, i folded linens until my fingers burned.

then i poured wine for their feast, hand steady, bile in my throat. and when they toasted to love, they used the same cup he once held to my lips.

two years later, the crown prince and his betrothed had a child. a son.

the palace rang with it—bells from the towers, parades in the streets, silken banners unfurling like blessings from the gods. nobles toasted to the future. servants wept with joy. the queen smiled like a woman who had won a long, quiet war.

and you were still here.

two years after the war. two years after he signed his name beside another’s. two years after he promised he’d come back—only to never even look for you again.

still, you remained.

a shadow in the queen’s wing. a servant without a name. a girl who once held the crown prince in her arms and now scrubbed the floors he walked over with someone else.

you thought you had learned to live with it.

the ache. the silence. the way your body moved on instinct, not desire. the way your reflection looked like someone who had died quietly in a hallway no one cared to name.

until you heard the name.

rael.

a beautiful name. chosen with care. celebrated like prophecy.

you heard it first in whispers, maids cooing in the halls, stewards discussing cradle embroidery. then the queen spoke it aloud, and the word settled over the palace like divine command.

and you knew.

“if we ever had a son...” “rael,” he had said, gratingly soft. almost reverent. “only if it’s with you.”

you remembered the breath between your bodies that night. the promises he couldn’t make. the weight of him above you, around you, inside you—like he needed to leave part of himself behind.

and now that name belonged to another woman’s child.

not just the name. not just the word. everything.

the son. the bloodline. the heir to a kingdom you nearly died for.

the same name that once made your chest bloom now felt like a dagger twisting slow beneath your ribs.

he hadn’t just moved on.

he’d taken the one piece of your once shared future and handed it—whole, unshattered—to someone else.

you did not cry at that moment. you worked until your hands ached. bit your cheek until your mouth filled with blood. when the bells stopped ringing, you slipped away, barefoot, into the dark.

the greenhouse waited like a tomb. ivy choked the walls. the door groaned. glass lay cracked in the corners. but the bench was still there. still yours.

you sat. pulled the ribbon from where it had slept—hidden beneath your sleeve.

crimson. frayed. soft from too many nights clutched in shaking hands.

you remembered everything.

of him. of you. of the way he once looked at you like you were something rare, something worthy. the way his voice softened when he spoke only to you. how he kissed you like he feared the world would tear you from his arms.

“you’re the only place in this world where i don’t have to be a prince.”

and you believed him.

you believed in him.

and now you mourned not just the love, but the version of yourself who thought it would be enough. you weren’t angry. you were hollow. you stared through the cracked glass at the stars above.

they did not blink. and the silence devoured what little remained.

but one night, while she slept, they came for her.

rough hands yanked her from the cot. she barely had time to gasp before her wrists were bound, her bare feet scraping stone as she was dragged through the corridors like a criminal. no one told her where they were going. no one told her why.

it wasn’t until she was thrown onto the cold marble floor of the great hall, knees scraping raw, that she saw them—lined up in rows like vultures. the courtiers. the queen. the guards. and him.

barou stood beside the throne, impassive in ceremonial black.

then they told her.

the crown prince’s heir had nearly died in the night. fevered, choking, blue-lipped. a poisoned swaddle. a servant’s carelessness. a plot, they said. treason, they whispered. no—murder. attempted assassination of the future king.

her name was the one they uttered. her hands were the ones accused of lacing arsenic into the cloth. her crime was already written before she could speak.

there was no trial. just a proclamation. just silence.

she tried to speak. to defend herself. but her words were drowned beneath the queen’s verdict.

she looked for him.

but barou didn’t flinch.

not when the guards hauled her to her feet. not when they dragged her into the courtyard.

snow fell that night.

they cut her hair first—rough, uneven handfuls torn from her scalp. her body trembled, not from cold, but from the way the world had gone silent around her. no one spoke. no one stopped it.

then the blade came.

they carved the word slowly into her back. seven letters.

‘ፕዪልጎፕዐዪ’

she didn’t scream from pain. not when they dragged the blade across her back. not when they ripped the hair from her scalp like it was nothing. not when the crowd jeered like dogs around a corpse.

but when she looked up—

and saw him.

barou. he was at the edge of the crowd like a statue carved from cruelty and marble.

something inside her cracked. her lips trembled. blood pooled at the corner of her mouth, thick and metallic.

“s… shoei,” she choked, voice mangled. her eyes searched his face. desperate and broken. hope rotting in her throat.

“p… please…”

his gaze didn’t falter.

it didn’t soften.

for the briefest second, their eyes met.

and she gave him everything she had left. the last word in her body. a threadbare whisper carried by frostbitten air.

“s…save me…”

barou blinked once. expression blank. his jaw clenched, not in pain, not in regret, but in control. then, coldly, without a flicker of recognition—

he turned away.

the crowd roared.

the knife returned to her back.

and the snow turned red.

seven years after the crown touched his head, king barou shoei ruled a kingdom forged in silence and steel.

he expanded borders with ruthless precision. forged alliances with kingdoms that once sneered at his youth. built fleets. doubled the army. rewrote tax laws. crushed corruption in courts with a flick of his wrist.

the palace whispered about how cold he’d become. they said his voice had lost its weight. that the king never took mistresses, never laughed at banquets, never drank more than a mouthful of wine.

he built an empire—and ruled it like a tomb.

but some nights, when the halls were quiet and the air too still, he woke in a cold sweat. his hands would be clenched, his breath shallow, his heart pounding like it remembered something his mind refused to forget.

he never dreamed of the crown. not of state dinners, nor of treaties, nor of gold. only her.

he dreamed of snow. of her knees in it, trembling. of her hair in knots, her shift torn, her mouth bloodied where she’d bitten it trying not to scream.

he remembered how her eyes searched for him in that crowd—desperate, wide, shining with something more agonizing than pain.

she looked at him like he was the only thing left that could save her. and he let them take her. let them carve her down with steel and silence. let her bleed into the frost without raising a single word in her defense.

that moment had never left him. not in seven years. not across every throne room or celebration or inked signature.

he had fought so hard to become king.

but he had let the one person who ever saw him as something more than a crown be destroyed while he watched.

and no matter what he built, no matter how high the walls or loud the bells—he would never be able to unlive that moment.

then, one night, the kitchens reported a broken supply line. the lowest department. one of the underworkers had collapsed.

he shouldn’t have gone himself. it wasn’t a king’s duty.

but something—some pull, like gravity or guilt—dragged his feet down the winding stairwell. past the noble halls, past the servant wings, deeper, until the walls turned to stone and the light burned low.

and there, hunched beside a broken crate, cloaked in rags, was someone barely shaped like a person. her back was curved, spine bent from years of labor. her hair was matted. her skin—where it wasn’t caked in soot—was pale and tight over bone. her fingers were bloodied, swollen from cold or overuse. she was breathing, but barely.

he saw her.

but not really.

he saw what was left of her.

she blinked slowly. as if even that cost her something.

“…your majesty.”

he flinched.

her voice was not her voice. it was dry parchment. frayed and faint.

“i thought maybe you forgot i existed,” she said. “but i guess i just became too inconvenient to keep buried.”

barou knelt, too stunned to speak.

“i’m not mad,” she whispered, eyes fixed on the stone. “i stopped being mad around year three. that’s when i stopped dreaming too. now i just… wake up. work. sleep.”

a breath.

“if i’m lucky.”

barou’s jaw clenched. his chest burned. “y/n—”

she didn’t even blink. “that’s not my name anymore. they took that the day they carved letters into my back.”

his hands trembled.

she kept going, voice numb, automatic, like she was reading from a list she had to repeat just to remember who she used to be.

“they sent me to the lowest department. sanitation. we scrubbed rot from the gutters. hauled waste from the chambers. they fed us mold. we drank rust. if you got sick, they left you in the dark until you didn’t wake up.”

her hands curled in her lap, barely more than bone.

“once, i broke my ankle. kept working on it. because if you stopped, they stopped feeding you. and sometimes i think… maybe i should’ve stopped. maybe i should’ve just disappeared like the rest of them.”

barou’s breath hitched.

she looked at him.

finally.

and he couldn’t breathe.

“remember the night you came back?” she murmured. “and you saw me. with a guard?”

barou’s eyes closed. he’d buried that memory so deep it lived like poison in his blood.

“he wasn’t touching me by choice,” she said, voice as hollow as the silence between them. “and neither was i.”

“i was drugged,” she said, like she was stating the weather. “they held me down. poured it into my mouth while i screamed. i don’t remember all of it. only pieces. the burn in my throat. the ceiling spinning. hands that didn’t feel human.”

she blinked slowly, like each word took effort. “when you saw me, i could barely breathe. i couldn’t move. i couldn’t even cry.”

barou trembled.

“she planned it. the queen. said you needed to see me as… tarnished. that it would make it easier. to forget me.”

the silence was thick. heavy. it wrapped around her like chains.

“she said if i told you what really happened, she’d kill my family,” she whispered. “not just banish them. kill. my father. my mother. my little sister. every one of them. she described how she'd do it. how she’d make me watch.”

barou’s chest caved like something inside him cracked beyond repair.

“i had no choice,” she said. “so i let you believe i betrayed you. because if i fought back, they’d suffer. if i tried to explain, they’d die.”

she looked at him now. not in anger. not in hate.

just emptiness.

“so i stayed quiet. i let you hate me. i let you look at me like i was nothing. because i thought maybe i could protect someone… even if it wasn’t myself.”

she laughed. but it was dry, and brittle.

“but it didn’t matter. did it? you didn’t come for me. you didn’t even ask.”

tears spilled down barou’s face. not pretty ones. ugly, violent ones. his shoulders shook like the weight of his crown had finally broken him.

“i should’ve known,” he rasped. “i should’ve fought for you. i was supposed to protect you. not—” his voice broke. “not let this happen. not let you suffer like this. alone. for seven years.”

she didn’t answer. didn’t comfort. didn’t even blink.

“i only knew how to fight for you,” he said hoarsely, “but not how to believe in you.”

her voice was barely more than breath.

“that night. seven years ago,” she whispered. “when i looked at you. when i mouthed ‘save me.’”

her lips trembled, just once.

“you turned away.”

a silence.

then, like something inside her cracked just enough to let memory bleed through—

“i screamed that night,” she said. “not from the blade. not from the cold.”

her eyes finally lifted to meet his.

“i screamed because i realized i could die right there. in the snow. and no one would care.”

her throat worked. her next words were raw. unforgiving.

“not even you.”

the silence afterward was unbearable. like the whole world had stopped breathing.

she blinked slowly, as if she were trying to stay awake in a nightmare that had never ended. her voice came softer this time—hoarse, ruined.

“i waited for you. through every lash, every brand, every night i couldn’t feel my hands from working until they bled. i kept waiting. thinking maybe you’d remember the way i used to laugh. the way i begged you with my eyes.”

she touched her chest, as if searching for a heartbeat that never returned.

“but you just watched. like i was nothing. like i was already gone.”

barou’s hands were shaking now. his mouth opened, but there were no words. what could he say?

you mattered? i didn’t know? i loved you?

none of it could undo what had already been done.

and then she said the final blow,

"you said you'd protect me," she murmured, not even looking at him.

"you held me like i was the only thing in the world that mattered. you swore you'd fight for me."

a breath trembled through her chest.

"but when it counted... you didn’t protect me.""you protected yourself. your crown. your name. your pride."

her eyes finally met his—and they were hollow. scorched.

"you let them call me a traitor."

another breath. thinner this time. almost broken.

"and the worst part?" she whispered. "you believed them."

her gaze locked with his.

“you just watched.”

and then, her voice cracked, just once, before it shattered completely.

“i survived everything. the whips. the work. the hunger. but that moment? that was the first time i wanted to die.”

a pause. a breath. a final blow, sharpened by seven years of silence.

“because if you could believe i was capable of that…”

her lips trembled, her next words nearly breaking on her tongue.

“then maybe you never really loved me at all.”

and that— that was what destroyed him.

then she collapsed; like a marionette whose strings had finally frayed. like her body had grown tired of pretending it still had anything left to hold.

she didn’t cry. she didn’t scream. she just… sank.

her bones touched stone with the weight of a life unraveled.

and when she spoke, her voice didn’t crack—it withered. like it had forgotten how to carry anything but loss.

“i can’t stay here anymore.”

barou stepped forward. hesitating. like he didn’t know how to touch something already ruined.

"Y/N—"

"DON’T."

she flinched when she said it. like the sound alone hurt her lungs.

"don’t say my name. you let them strip it from me." she whispered, curling into herself. “i’ve given this palace everything. my childhood. my body. my name. for seven years i scrubbed floors with blood on them. served wine to the same people who laughed while they branded me. i slept beside rats. i drank water that turned my stomach. i was whipped for standing too long. then whipped for standing too little."

her hands trembled where they clutched the hem of her ragged cloak.

“it took everything. and when i had nothing left to give… it kept taking.”

she looked up, and the eyes that met his weren’t hers—not the girl he kissed under the moonlight, not the one who once called him by name with warmth in her voice.

these eyes were empty. shards of a person who had learned how to survive without living.

“p-please,” she whispered. “if you ever l-loved me… even once…”

her voice broke. then shattered.

“i don’t even want revenge. i don’t want justice. i don’t want apologies from you that come seven winters too late.”

her fists curled into her rags, trembling like she could hold herself together if she just gripped tight enough.

"i want to wake up and not see stone," her voice trembled. "i want to taste food without choking it down because i’m scared i’ll get hit for chewing too slow."

she swallowed, hard. like even speaking hurt.

"i want to sleep without flinching every time i hear boots in the hall."

her fingers twitched. her eyes didn’t.

"i want to stop counting the days since someone last called me by my name. not ‘thing.’ not ‘it.’ me."

her voice cracked.

"i want to stop being afraid of my own name. i want to stop being afraid of my own reflection."

then, barely louder than breath:

"i just... i want to remember what it felt like to be a person."

she gasped like her lungs were giving out.

“get me out of this place.”

barou couldn’t speak. couldn’t move.

her hands curled against the floor, fingernails cracked and bleeding.

“just let me leave.”

she bowed her head.

“let me live.”

and with the last of her voice, she whispered:

“get me out of this kingdom.”

she bowed her head. no sobs. no tears.

barou didn’t speak.

he just looked at her—the girl who once smiled at him in a garden full of light, now hunched and broken, barely breathing, barely her—and he felt something inside him splinter beyond repair.

slowly, like approaching a dying flame, he reached for her. his fingers trembled as they closed around hers, cold, brittle, bird-bone thin. she didn’t flinch. but she didn’t hold him back.

and then, without a word, he nodded.

that night, cloaked in silence and moonlight, the king—crowned, feared, untouchable—carried her in his arms. no guards. no herald. just him. just her.

he passed the garden where she first held his hand. he passed the corridor where he first kissed her. he passed the greenhouse where she once bloomed.

and she wept silently in his arms, not from hope—she had none left—but from the ache of finally being seen again.

he didn’t say goodbye. didn’t beg her to stay.

because he knew.

this wasn’t mercy. this was too late.

he let her go, not because he stopped loving her. but because loving her had never been enough. and this… this was the only thing left he could do right.

the gates closed behind him. and she disappeared into the dark.

not a servant. not a lover. not a traitor.

and when he finally turned back to the palace, it felt heavier than any crown.

because kingdoms forget. they rewrite sins with silk and ceremony. but monsters—monsters remember. and in every mirror he passed,

he didn’t see a king.

he saw the boy who promised to protect her. and the man who watched her bleed.

the years wore me gently, then all at once.

time hadn’t been kind, not really, but it had made me quieter. softer at the edges. my back didn’t ache the way it used to—not from labor, but from memory. my hands still bore the scars, the calluses, but they didn’t shake anymore. my hair, streaked with gray, was tied back with the same red ribbon—frayed, but still holding on. like me.

i sat beneath an old tree at the edge of the palace gardens. the same ones i used to sneak through barefoot, heart full of foolish, fragile things. the greenhouse was long gone now. swallowed by ivy and stone. but the tree remained. and somehow… so did i.

i thought i was alone. until a shadow came—small, hesitant. a boy, no older than twelve. his shoes were too clean for how muddy they were, and his eyes were wide with something he didn’t yet have a name for. he looked like someone i used to know. not the eyes. but the mouth. the way he stood, like the world owed him answers.

“…why’re you here by yourself?” he asked.

my lips barely moved. not quite a smile—just the ghost of something long forgotten.

“to remember,” i said. “and to forget.”

જ⁀➴ © sevarchive ✦ masterlist ; like/reblogs are appreciated ꣑ৎ

#sevarchive ۶ৎ #theaskroulette #blue lock #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock angst #blue lock fluff #blue lock au #barou shoei #barou shoei x reader #barou shoei x you #barou x reader #bllk barou #blue lock barou

117 notes · View notes

the-oblivious-writer · 3 months ago

Text

With Her I Die |2|

Past J.T to Eventual S.S x Female Reader

Chapter Two: Carved Grief

warnings: grief and trauma, emotional distress/depression, isolation, and shauna's still pregnant in this universe

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

The wood takes shape beneath your knife, each careful scrape revealing what was always there, waiting. Your hands have finally stopped shaking enough to do this. Javi showed you how weeks ago, his patient instruction a momentary lifeline pulling you back toward something resembling purpose. The small wooden bear emerges slowly under your blade—crude but recognizable. For Shauna. For her baby. A talisman of protection neither of you believes in but both desperately need.

"That's actually pretty good."

Javi's voice startles you. You hadn't heard him approach, too lost in the meditative rhythm of carve, smooth, carve.

"It's nothing," you mutter, instinctively curling your hand around the bear.

"It's not nothing." He sits beside you, respectfully distant. "It's the first thing I've seen you make that isn't a weapon."

The observation stings with its accuracy. Since Jackie, all you've crafted are sharp things—spears, stakes, blades to defend against threats both real and imagined. This small bear marks a deviation, something born not from fear but from whatever fractured affection you have left to give.

"They're having some kind of... thing for Shauna later," Javi says carefully. "For the baby."

"I know."

You've been avoiding thinking about it—the makeshift baby shower the others have been planning, their desperate attempt at normalcy, at hope. The thought of celebration feels obscene in this place, with Jackie's absence still a wound that refuses to scab over.

"Will you come?" Javi asks, eyes fixed on his own half-carved piece of wood.

You don't answer immediately. Your instinct is refusal—the thought of forced smiles and manufactured joy makes your skin crawl. But then you think of Shauna, of her growing belly and the dark circles beneath her eyes that match your own, of her hand finding yours in the night when the nightmares come.

"Maybe," you finally say, and Javi nods, understanding the concession for what it is.

------

The cabin air feels oppressively thick with forced cheer. Taissa and Van have strung up pathetic decorations—bits of fabric tied together, wildflowers woven into crude garlands. Someone found an old blanket to drape over a rough wooden crate, creating an impromptu gift table. They've made an effort, you'll give them that.

You hover near the door, wooden bear clutched in your pocket, ready to retreat. Shauna sits in the center, looking both touched and uncomfortable with the attention, one hand perpetually resting on her swollen belly. When she spots you, her face brightens with genuine surprise.

"You came," she mouths across the room, and something in your chest constricts painfully.

You give a tight nod, shifting your weight from foot to foot, cataloging escape routes. The small gathering feels like too much after months of self-imposed isolation. Every laugh grates against your nerves, every moment of joy feels like a betrayal. How dare they find happiness here, in this place that took Jackie?

Mari approaches Shauna with something wrapped in leaves—a gift fashioned from found objects, likely. You watch the ritual unfold, the presentation of meager offerings: a crude rattle made from small stones in a hollowed piece of wood, a tiny cap knitted from unraveled sweater yarn, a collection of soft moss for bedding.

When it's your turn, you can't bring yourself to move. The others are looking at you expectantly, and suddenly you're drowning in their attention. Shauna saves you, like always.

"Give Y/N some space," she says firmly, meeting your eyes with understanding. "She can give me her gift later if she wants."

The tension doesn't fully dissipate, but attention shifts away from you. You slip outside, gulping in crisp air, the wooden bear still heavy in your pocket.

The fire offers blessed solitude, flames dancing in patterns that sometimes look like her face, her hair, her smile. You've spent countless nights here, staring into the embers, wondering if Jackie was warm in those final moments or if the cold took her gently, mercifully.

"May I join you?"

Lottie's voice is soft, a gentle intrusion. You don't respond, but she sits anyway, maintaining a careful distance that suggests she understands more than she should.

"I'm not into the hippie stuff," you say preemptively, defensive.

A small laugh escapes her, genuine enough to make you glance up. Lottie's face is illuminated by firelight, shadowing her eyes in ways that make her look both older and impossibly vulnerable.

"I know," she says simply. "You never have been. You're a bit different."

The words hang between you, cryptic and unsettling. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Lottie doesn't answer immediately, her gaze fixed on the flames. "You don't need the rituals or the prayers or the signs," she finally says. "Your grief is its own kind of worship. Pure. Devoted."

Anger flares in your chest. "Don't romanticize this," you snap. "There's nothing special about feeling like you're dying every day."

"No," she agrees. "But there's something rare about loving someone so completely that their absence becomes a presence of its own."

The observation silences you, too accurate to deflect. You stare into the fire, hands clenched into fists to stop their trembling.

"She's still with you," Lottie continues, voice dropping to almost a whisper. "I can feel her sometimes, you know. Especially when you're around."

"Don't," you warn, voice cracking. "Don't talk about her like you knew her."

"I didn't know her like you did," Lottie acknowledges. "No one did. Not even Shauna."

At the mention of Shauna, you tense further, protective instinct flaring. "Shauna's different."

"Yes," Lottie agrees thoughtfully. "She is. She carries you both now. Jackie in memory, you in devotion."

You want to argue, to rage against her observations, but there's a gentleness to Lottie's presence that disarms you. She doesn't demand response or engagement. She simply sits, another soul warmed by the same fire, existing alongside your pain without trying to diminish or exploit it.

Minutes pass in silence. The crackling fire fills the void between words. Gradually, your shoulders loosen, your breathing steadies. There's something almost comforting about sitting with someone who doesn't expect you to be better, who doesn't flinch from the jagged edges of your grief.

"The forest speaks to me," Lottie says eventually, her voice barely audible above the fire's murmur. "It whispers secrets, shows me things. Beautiful things. Terrible things." She pauses, drawing a pattern in the dirt with her finger. "But you? You're still. Silent. Like a deep pool I can't see the bottom of."

You should find her words unsettling, should retreat back into defensive isolation. Instead, you find yourself oddly soothed by her acceptance of your opacity. Everyone else wants to fix you, to pull you back into the fold of the living. Lottie simply acknowledges your state without judgment.

"What do you want from me?" you finally ask.

Lottie smiles, a small, sad thing. "Nothing. That's why you'll eventually come to me yourself."

The cryptic certainty should irritate you, but instead, it lands like a prophecy you're too tired to fight. Perhaps there's freedom in surrendering to someone else's vision when you've lost sight of your own future.

From the cabin window, Shauna watches, one hand pressed against the cold glass, the other curled protectively around her belly. The sight of you with Lottie awakens something primitive in her chest—not jealousy exactly, but a territorial fear. Since Jackie's death, you've been hers to protect, to anchor. The thought of Lottie breaching those walls you've built, walls that only Shauna has been allowed to scale, unsettles her deeply.

"Everything okay?" Taissa asks, appearing beside her with a cup of pine needle tea.

"Fine," Shauna lies, accepting the tea without looking away from the window. "Just checking on Y/N."

Taissa follows her gaze to the two silhouettes by the fire. "That's the most I've seen her interact with anyone but you in months."

"Yeah," Shauna mumbles, the single syllable heavy with complexity.

"That's good, right?" Taissa probes, eyebrow raised. "We've all been worried about her."

"Sure," Shauna agrees automatically, but the unease persists, coiling in her stomach alongside the baby's movements. She should be relieved that you're engaging with someone else, showing signs of rejoining the group. Instead, she feels strangely betrayed, as if you're violating some unspoken pact.

She places the untouched tea on the windowsill and moves away, unable to watch anymore. The small pile of baby gifts mocks her with their hopeful presumption of future, of normalcy. Her fingers find the edge of the cloth-covered crate, gripping until her knuckles whiten.

"Shauna?" Van calls from across the room. "We're going to play a game. You in?"

Shauna forces a smile, fighting the impulse to run outside and interrupt whatever communion is happening between you and Lottie. "Yeah," she says with artificial brightness. "I'm in."

But her eyes drift back to the window, to the darkness beyond where you sit with someone else, and the baby kicks as if sensing her disquiet. She'll give you this moment, this tentative step toward something beyond grief. But later, in the dark, she'll reclaim her place as your anchor, your keeper, your living connection to Jackie.

For now, though, she turns away, leaving you to whatever understanding is growing between you and Lottie by the fire's glow. The bear you carved sits unseen in your pocket, waiting for the private moment when you'll press it into Shauna's palm—another secret, another bond, another link in the chain tethering you to each other in this wilderness of loss.

#shauna shipman x reader #shauna shipman x you #shauna yellowjackets #shauna shipman #jackie taylor x reader #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x y/n #jackie taylor #yellowjackets x you #yellowjackets x reader #yellow jackets

212 notes · View notes

minkdelovely · 1 year ago

Text

love and power

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

prelude

“ask for forgiveness,

never permission.”

Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+ ; [y/n] used sparingly ; Alias in Hell is Sylvie

tags: acid rain wound, cannibals living their best lives in cannibal town, slow burn eventual: smut, violence, toxic themes

word count: 1.7k

hello world! i currently have alastor brain rot and felt compelled to jump back into writing fan fiction. i’m a little rusty and i’m not sure how many parts there will be; i won’t deny that this is purely self-indulgent but i hope you enjoy all the same :)

prelude ; chapter one ; chapter two ; chapter three ; chapter four ; chapter five ; chapter six ; chapter seven ; chapter eight ; chapter nine ; chapter ten: part one ; chapter ten: part two

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Hell wasn’t what you had expected it to be. It was worse.

Thoughts of your grandmother rose to your mind, despite how desperately you tried to push them down. “Hell is the absence of God,” she would always say after one of her famous rants. A warning you perhaps would have heeded, had it been coming from a place of love instead of moral superiority.

You had seen her on the streets of Hell a few times now, always sure to avoid catching her attention. The warm pleasure that bloomed in your chest was too precious to give up, despite knowing how good it would feel to rub her fate in her face. A lot of good all those Sunday mornings had done her, haughty bitch! You wondered how often your grandmother laid awake at night, desperate to know how she had ended up here. A wicked grin spread across your lips, revealing milky-pink fangs.

It was hard not to imagine the look your father would have given you if you could tell him she was here. He would definitely have scolded you, but you knew a small part of him would be amused. If calling her a bad grandmother was putting it lightly, she was an even worse mother-in-law. Hopefully you would never get the chance to tell him; Mother was waiting for him in Heaven, after all. And things should be much easier for him now, all things considered. Leaving him alone hadn’t been part of the plan, so all you could do was tell yourself that it had been worth it. Someday you would believe it.

Grandmother was right though, loathe as you were to admit it, and the feeling of loss burned through you every morning when you awoke. Every night, you dreamed of rain; the sound of it, the smell of it, the feeling of it coming down on you in the middle of the family garden. Oh, how you missed the garden. The dark, wet dirt. Blue puffs of hydrangea against stark-white azaleas, your mother’s coveted yellow roses. The Spanish Moss hanging like phantom sails off the branches of the huge oak tree in the corner, where your father had placed a bench and made a small pond. You would sit under that tree for hours lost in a book, listening to the sounds of the garden.

The fire and brimstone you could endure. It was the way everything else was twisted here that was grueling. As if feeling your lament, a drop of acid rain hit your window, quickly morphing into a full-blown storm. A frustrated growl erupted from you and you rolled onto your stomach, burying your head under your pillow and said a silent prayer to whatever force would grant mercy on your roof. You couldn’t afford to get it fixed again. The prayer had been answered just a moment after the rain stopped, when a drop of it fell from the ceiling and onto your pale, unsuspecting calf, your mattress absorbing the scream of pain that tore through your chest.

As the acid made its way through your leg, and eventually your mattress, all you could do was sob. Eternity… This was eternity.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

If this morning had been good, the day could only now be considered grand.

There was really nothing quite like a post-rain stroll through Cannibal Town, witnessing the misfortune of partially-dissolved sinners who had been caught in the deluge being consumed on the streets by the lively, ever-hungry inhabitants. Alastor would never tire of this jovial bunch that called this part of the Pentagram home, reveling in the sound of screams, the crunching of bone, the almost-lewd and animalistic grunts of feasting.

Were Rosie not expecting him for tea, he might have allowed himself to join in on the fun. Alas, his only solace was that Rosie never served anything less than superb, being the excellent hostess that she is.

He was quite intrigued by her invitation to join her alone, which meant that this likely wasn’t anything to do with donating a small army of cannibals to aid in the fight against the Angels. Indeed, Charlie’s presence would be required once it was time to cash that favor in.

Not that he didn’t enjoy a casual visit (as casual a visit between Overlords could be), he couldn’t help but wonder. Thinking a few steps ahead was a must if one was going to thrive in Hell, and well, it was no secret that Alastor was doing a pretty fine job at that, all things considered. He began to whistle, earning a few gory smiles from cannibals who stopped mid-meal to enjoy the tune. A true honor.

Rosie opened the door for him before he even had the chance to knock, the “Closed for Rain” sign clattering against the glass as she cooed. “Alastorrr! Come in, come in, before it starts raining again.”

As if on queue, a roll of thunder tore through the clouds, drawing a cheer from the denizens of Cannibal Town in anticipation for round two.

“Rosie, my dear, always an honor and a privilege to be deemed worthy of your company,” Alastor said, bowing his head as Rosie feigned a blush, leading him to the parlor where they would be taking their tea.

The usual pleasantries were exchanged between sips of tea, coffee, and candied organs, which Alastor forced himself to consume through sheer courtesy. It was all part of the art of visiting, one he quite enjoyed, and he would never shame his mother’s memory with bad manners. They had just finished a plate of finger sandwiches when Rosie leaned in slightly, the conspiring grin on her face letting him know that it was, at last, time for business.

“You’re always so good to indulge me, Alastor. It doesn’t go unnoticed,” she said, grinning as she motioned to a maid to come grab their empty plates. “I’m sure you’ve been dying to know why I asked you over here this afternoon.”

“Oh, Rosie, it’s purely selfish! You know how hard it is to find good company in this godforsaken place. I’m more than grateful to receive your hospitality,” he said with a trademark smile and flick of the wrist, leaning back in his chair as the maid cleared the table.

She had just turned to leave with their plates when the smile on his face nearly faltered. Was that… almond he smelled? It had been so long, but he was fairly certain it was. There was an underlying trace of blood, though that was common enough around here. But almond? It was too pleasant for Hell.

Rosie’s eyes darkened to match her grin, not missing the twitch of Alastor’s mouth. She knew he’d have been able to smell it. It seemed that so far only Hellborn could pick it up, but what would be the fun in letting him know that?

“Divine, isn’t she? A walking pastry, but not much of a talker. I like to bring her around whenever a room needs some pizzazz! She would’ve been eaten alive had I not taken her in,” Rosie whispered cheekily, as the maid returned with a fresh kettle and a gelatin mold for dessert. Rosie, not missing a beat once the tray had been set down, turned to her with a smile. “Thank you dear, you can leave now. I’ll ring the bell if we need anything else.”

The maid gave a silent curtsy and left the room as instructed, her sweet scent clinging to the air. Since coming to Hell, he took pleasure in the taste of bloody iron, the bite of black coffee. But in life… Memories of marzipan and frangipane tarts swam in his mind. And hadn’t Mother used almonds in her cherry pie crust? It took Alastor all he had not to drool, unsettled by the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. Ages had passed since he last thought of such sweet things. He cleared his throat with as much grace as he could muster. Rosie only grinned.

“Well, she’s certainly new, so I suppose it’s not surprising she doesn’t talk much. It’s quite easy to tell when a sinner is… adjusting. So morose! You’re very gracious to have taken her on.” Alastor took a sip of coffee, desperate to get that almond smell out of his nostrils.

“We both seem to be rather gracious these days, don’t you think?”

And there it was.

Rosie sat back in her chair and crossed her legs as she continued. “I was actually wondering if perhaps she might fare better in that hotel you’re running. Don’t get me wrong, she smells incredible, but fuck does she suck the air out of a room once the novelty wears off. She was scaring away clients, and you know it’s pretty bad if cannibals are uneasy around you for Christ’s sake, which is why I had her start working back here, but…”

Alastor had to resist gripping his knee, putting all his effort into maintaining a pleasant face. He had expected to be asked for a favor of sorts, but never did he imagine that Rosie wanted him to take on an employee. She’s had sinners sign contracts for little less than a new parasol, let alone a job. There was something more to this.

And beyond being an air freshener, what good was she for, really? He could deal with quiet, but to have to put up with yet another sulky face! What he had done to deserve it, he didn’t know.

But he knew there wasn’t really a choice other than to take the poor creature into his charge. Rosie was an alley he deeply cherished, and he was already in her debt for the help she had provided just weeks ago. This was no doubt the first part of paying that debt back, a sign of goodwill. Not every deal was beneficial from the start; still, Alastor wouldn’t outright accept the offer. That was part of the fun.

“Well we already have a maid,” Alastor said gently, “but after the recent renovation, we are anticipating more sinners to check in. Not that I doubt Niffty’s abilities, but I suppose she could do with some help when business picks up. How long were you thinking of lending her to our cause?”

Rosie waved her hand. “Lend? Oh, honey, if you’re willing to take her, she’s yours. I’ve got plenty of helping hands, but it does me no good to have such a wet blanket hanging around. There’s just the matter of…,” Rosie trailed off as she reached into her purse, retrieving what Alastor already knew she had been grabbing for, “…her contract.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fan fiction #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x female reader #alastor smut #hazbin hotel smut #song fic #if i can’t have love i want power #love and power #x reader #slow burn #the radio demon #hazbin hotel slow burn

495 notes · View notes

remushrts · 9 months ago

Text

yours to keep (pt 2)

— pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

— a/n: part two for this ask!! more remus on a comforting mission with reader, i truly wish everybody had their own personal remus right now <3 take care babes

— warnings: mention of throwing up, overall angst but there's a lot of comfort to make up for it, reader is kind of numb

You feel like there's a ringing in your ears that just won't go away. It's this small thing, insistent, driving you insane. It's what you imagine would happen if a bomb dropped on the apartment complex right now, the world goes silent for a minute, and everything is out of focus. The words echo inside you over and over, and you don't know if you feel real right now. It can't be real, it can't be happening, it's all you can think of right now. You want it to stop, the entire world, but you know that, outside this apartment, things keep happening. It feels unfair that the universe keeps moving unaffected.

You're holding your head on your hands when you hear the door click softly, your breath shallow as you raise your eyes. Soft hazel ones meet them, but Remus doesn't say anything this time. He sits by your side, his leg barely brushing on yours, and lets you decide. Slowly, you melt on top of him like mush.

"Dove?" He calls you, still as a rock but comfortable as your favourite pillow. You think it's kind of amazing how he can be both at once, just when you need him to. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your back. He doesn't even comment that you're wearing his sweater, over the same clothes you've had the day before. "Have you eaten, my love?"

Remus doesn't call you that very often, only when you're not feeling your best and he knows you're not with your head in the right place to really listen. You shake your head, you tried to, at least, but if you couldn't stomach two pieces of plain toast, you gave up on anything else. Strangely, you don't feel hungry, just empty.

"Okay, I'm going to make you something." Remus says, and you cling into him, your arms wrapping around his neck to hold on tight. It's more than you've moved the entire day, you think, but he just feels so nice to let go of now. He seems to catch it too, wrapping an arm around your middle to press you even closer. "Wanna come with, lovely girl? You can watch me cook."

You open a soft smile, not more than the corners of your lips curling up half an inch. His offer is good-natured, but you don't think you can, a thick layer of sadness growing into you like moss. You've been simmering in it the whole day. "I'm okay here, Rem." Your voice is small as you talk, and you think that's what you feel like now too. Small, like a child that can't understand what is going on.

He tilts his head, not fully believing you. You don't know if you can blame him either. He gets up, pressing a kiss against your forehead and murmuring the words against your skin. "I'll be back soon." He offers, softness overflowing in his voice.

He does keep his promise, and the smell that comes from the kitchen is familiar, earthy and rich. Remus holds a hot bowl of soup in his hands, a spoon for you in the other.

"You told Hope." You say immediately, but there's no accusation to your tone as you make grabby hands at the bowl.

"Guilty as charged." He smiles softly, pulling you back into his embrace. How could he not? Hope adored you from the moment he walked you past their cottage's door, and she was wiser than he'd ever be. So yes, he talked to her in the phone and swang by to get a pot of soup and some advice, hoping one or the other could soothe your aches right now. He presses his nose into your hair as you eat, his lips barely brushing against your ear. "Talk to me, dove, please?"

His words are never an imposition, but you bite your lip. You don't mean to cry, get your tears mixed up with soup, but you don't think you can hold anymore. Remus carefully picks the bowl from your hands and sets it down on the coffee table. "I'm so sorry..." You sob quietly, your hands are shaking before you know it, but then they're over Remus', and he's coaxing you into his lap. "Remmy, I don't want any of this to be happening anymore, I'm so tired..." You mumble, not even sure he can hear you.

He can, his touch tightens on you lightly, a much proper hug now. His thumb brushes against your cheek, wiping your tears. You feel the scar that traces the side of his hand. "I know you don't, baby..." He whispers, stroking your hair.

"I shouldn't be crying now..." You say, trying to pull away from him, but he knows you too well, his arms keep you right in place. He knows what you mean, it's been a couple days since you last visited home and heard the news, but you couldn't feel anything back then. It feels like you're only coming to your senses today. "I'm sorry..."

"Shhh, what are you apologising for, uhm?" His hand cups your chin lovingly, driving your gaze back to his, your eyes shining with tears he wishes he can take all away. You're the bravest person he knows, loveliest too. You, from all people, didn't deserve to be going through this. He kisses your wet cheek. "You can cry if you feel like it, dove, it's not a crime."

You hiccup a laugh, barely a sound, but the smile through your tears is unmistakable. "You swear it's not?" You joke back, he kissed the tip of your nose.

"Absolutely, my love. And if it is, they'll have to go through me." The promise is soft, tender as he presses his forehead against yours. Nothing feels too close right now, nothing feels overwhelming or too terrible. It just feels like Remus.

#marauders fic #marauders era #marauders fluff #marauders x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin #remus x you #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x y/n #remushrts writes — ★

91 notes · View notes

hermitlife-fanblog · 2 months ago

Text

ranting abt Life Series/Hermitcraft species types cuz I’m bored

Warning: most of this is headcanons!!

Hermitcraft

Moss Man (Bdoubleo100) - I can see him being like a glare, short and loves moss

Convex part 1 (Cubfan135) - Vex on Hermitcraft but I headcanon him being a warden on Empires cuz of the shulk thing that happened

Goat Man (Docm77) - Creeper, Goat, and Robot without any humans parts, he has horns, front legs, and ears of a goat. I headcanon him having the back legs of a Creeper cuz Creepers have four feet. Half of his face along with half his torso and one arm being part robot, along with on of his horns and on his back legs, the right foot is robotic

A Canadian with secrets (Ethoslab) - Mostly human but on rare occasions I make him a winter fox, mostly just for season 9, but other than that he’s human

One of the more stable Hermits (FalseSymmetry) - Part eagle having the wings, sometimes I’ll have her have eagle legs or human legs but I prefer just the human legs most times

Girlboss Canadian with 3 dads, Geminislay (Geminitay) - Deer mostly but in the Life Series I headcanon her to be a bull, mostly cuz of Wild Life and I feel like she would be cooler like that. I’ll also sometimes have bull Gem when she’s not on Hermitcraft just to be silly

Out of Context Deserted Hippie, Convex Part 2 (GoodTimesWithScar) - Vex for the most part but during Life Series I feel like he would just be human, but specifically for Double Life I feel like he would be part Jellie Cat, have four legs just like a cat, like a human-cat-centaur thing

Deserted lore parrot (Grian) - 100% a parrot at all times but because of the watcher thing he is able to make his wings and head wings purple

Silly guy (Hypnotizd) - Human for the most part but sometimes I’ll give him a tail bc I think it looks nice

Blue Slimecicle (iJevin) - Blue Slime when good, Green Slime when bad

Married couple part 1 (ImpulseSV) - Demon bc I love demon imp

A Guy and his Puppet Boy (JoeHills) - I headcanon there are two joes, the human one, H!Joe, and the puppet one, P!Joe. P!Joe is alive bc Xisuma messed with his coding one day bc Xisuma wanted to see if he could make animate things come alive. Unfortunately, P!Joe is only alive in Hermitcraft since that was the only place Xisuma messed with his code at. P!Joe did go to Empires SMP with H!Joe but he was just hanging in H!Joe’s backpack the whole time. So you could imagine the empires members’s reaction when P!Joe suddenly ran up to them and hugged Shelby’s leg.

Accent or Lisp? (Keralis) - Human

Dracula does Redstone (Mumbo Jumbo) - Vampire bc this man would rather stay inside with his Redstone contraptions than go outside

Australian Girlfail (Pearlescentmoon) - Mostly a wolf for me but the moth one I like bc I just like moths and I think her being one makes a lot of sense. I also headcanon her to be a watcher

Gooiest Boy, best king (Rendog) - Do I even need to say it??

Old married couple part 2 (Skizzleman) - Angel bc Demon n Angel ImpnSkizz lives in my mind rent free

Wife Lover and Etho Obsessor (Smallishbeans) - Mostly an ogre but season 9 he’s a tanuki bc it fits so well with his base and I just love Tanuki Joel. He would be a bull in Wild Life cuz Bull Gem n Bull Joel

Of the tek variety (Tangotek) - Blazeborn, hair is always on fire but I headcanon his whole head to be on fire when he’s furious, and while working/living in colder temperatures, his fire is blue and after spending so much time on decked out, there’s always a hint of blue in his hair fire now, and one of his eyes and a pupil are both blue

Hermitcraft: We have the Beef (VintageBeef) - I don’t know much about him but I know him enough that I feel like he would be a bull 100%

Golden Knight (Welsknight) - Human

Thought it was xP at first (xBCrafted) - Don’t watch him as often but I love him being a guardian and it lives in my head rent free

Looks like could you, is a cinnamon roll (Xisumavoid) - I mostly see him being a dragon, maybe an enderdragon. But I love Axolotl Xisuma too but I feel like Axolotl Xisuma would be a different person to Xisuma like Evil X along with Bee Xisuma. So I feel like there would be Xisuma, Evil X, Beesuma, and Axosuma would all either be different AUs or Siblings, I like the siblings aspect but it changes for me.

Sheep Boi (Zedaph) - Sheep boi <333

Step on me Queen (ZombieCleo) - It’s in the name

Cookie Monster (Bigbst4tz2) - A creaking for the most part but sometimes human cuz I like both aspects

Cannot keep his hands off his king (InTheLittleWood) - Human but in Secret Life he would be a dog and in Limited Life he would be a fish or something.

Magical Anime Girl, but better (LDShadowLady) - I headcanon her to switch her species between being a Mermaid, Siren, Fairy, and Human bc I feel like she would have magical anime girl transformation powers <33

I have nothing for him (Scott Smajor1995) - Starborn but has a tail with a star at the end and crystals floating around his head

Man of many husbands (SolidarityGaming) - Canary

33 notes · View notes

reythenerdypisces · 1 year ago

Text

things that I overlooked in PJO the first time / small, funny things I noticed during my reread

Part 2: Sea of Monsters

there is a lot this time.

this book is so short and it makes up for the length by being hilarious:

I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death - plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.

Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture. Chiron turned looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

"Um..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about it? Nobody answered. "Right," I muttered. "Just checking."

"Uh, I like Hercules." "Why?" "Well, because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

Annabeth looked at me. "We have to get out of here." "You think I want to be in the girls' restroom?" "I mean the ship, Percy! We have to get off the ship."

Tyson was terrified of them. All throughout the tour, he insisted Annabeth hold his hand, which she didn't look too thrilled about.

"Then why do the gods even let me live? It would be safer to kill me." "You're right." "Thanks a lot."

A minute later, Annabeth hit a slippery patch of moss and her foot slipped. Fortunately, she found something else to put it against. Unfortunately, that something was my face.

As Luke was raising his sword to rally his troops, a centaur shot a custom-made arrow with a leather boxing glove on the end. It smacked Luke in the face and sent him crashing into the swimming pool. and a few moments later: He [Luke] raised his sword, but got smacked in the face with another boxing glove arrow, and sat down hard in a deck chair. Luke can't catch a break from those boxing arrows, it's the funniest thing

2. also so much baby percabeth!! they’re so cute

She'd [Annabeth] emailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been in my imagination. the fact that he printed out Annabeth's photo?

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat, "And you," she told him, "lay off my friend." her standing up for Percy is adorable

I mean she [Annabeth] looked good. Really good. I probably would've been tongue-tied if I could say anything except reet, reet, reet.

She [Annabeth] started to sob - I mean horrible, heartbroken sobbing. She put her head on my shoulder and I held her. Fish gathered to look at us - a school of barracudas, some curious marlins. Scram! I told them. They swam off, but I could tell they went reluctantly. I swear I understood their intentions. They were about to start rumours flying around the sea about the son of Poseidon and some girl at the bottom of Siren Bay. number 1. the way percy is always there for her, number 2. the gossiping fish?? I love it

The look in his [Grover] eyes told me something was terribly wrong. Annabeth had been on guard duty that night, protecting the Fleece. If something had happened -he’s admirably protective, of not just annabeth, but all his friends and I love to see it… exhibit b:

"But if I [Grover] get in trouble again, you'll be in danger, Percy! You could die!" "If you get in trouble again, I want to know about it. And I'll come help you again G-man. I wouldn't have it any other way." I adore their friendship.

3. other mentions:

"I'm Thalia," the girl said. "Daughter of Zeus." what. an. ending. I still remember how floored I was when I first read this wow

the mention of Hylla got me so excited

am I the only one who forgot Percy could control the sailboat? like the flying ropes and whatnot

I also completely forgot about his watch shield!

I'll be back for part 3 shortly! :)

#sea of monsters #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo series #rick riordan #percabeth #annabeth chase #grover underwood

188 notes · View notes

boneapplet · 2 months ago

Text

From Rust and Bone pt.16

Chronicles of the Lost Primarch

Relationship: Rogal Dorn x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: minor allusion to injury

Word Count: 2125

Requested tag:@noncon-photobomb @beckyninja @blukitty40k @runin64 @ilovewolvezz @meriamarie

Masterlist

pt 1 | pt 2 | pt 3 | pt 4 | pt 5 | pt 6 | pt 7 | pt 8 | pt 9 | pt 10 | pt 11 | pt 12 | pt 13 | pt 14 | pt 15 | pt 16 | pt 17 | pt 18 | pt 19 | pt 20

The wind hisses along the outer vents, weaving through the spire’s long hallways like breath through hollow reeds. It is late morning, but the light through the frost-streaked slats is dull and gray. Kessa pulls her scarf tight and slings her pack over one shoulder.

“Storm hasn’t dropped the old growth completely,” she says, voice muffled by her scarf. “I’m going to check the north terraces. Moss-root might’ve thickened in the wet. We’ll need it for binding and stock.”

Dorn looks up from where he’s been reinforcing in the side corridor. “I’ll come.”

She shakes her head, adjusting the fit of her outer wrap. “You’ve still got the outer vent girder to seal. That singing means the plates aren’t flush.”

His brow furrow slightly, but he says nothing.

Tipping her head toward the inner storage alcove in the workshop. “Tight-driver’s in the side chest, bottom shelf. Should still be wrapped in oilcloth.”

She leaves quietly; the outer latch groaning shut behind her. Dorn stands up and heads into the workshop. The latch stuck — it always does — but he forces it open with a practiced shove of his hip. Inside are the usual wrapped tools, rust-resistant cloths, bone pins, and a spare pressure gauge, the smell of oil and old metal rising from the depths.

Reaching in, pushing aside a coiled strap… and pauses. There, tucked beneath a folded tarp and half-wrapped in linen, lay a shape that doesn’t belong to any spire mechanism or gear. He peels the cloth back carefully.

It was a hand. Not flesh — metal and carefully whittled bone, smoothed and weathered, but unmistakable. Shaped to his size, his proportions. A prosthetic, partially assembled, the wrist socket still open, wires tucked neatly into place. The fingers are jointed with precision, each knuckle engraved faintly with lines like the veins of a leaf.

Not standard-issue. Not salvaged. But every part is chosen. Fitted with care. His breath catches. She is building this. For him. Turning it slowly in his grip, studying the workmanship. Some parts are scavver-grade — others clearly custom-forged, probably at her old camp or traded quietly during their last stop. It isn’t finished, but it is close. Setting the limb down gently, as if afraid the weight of his gaze alone might collapse the work. There is no paint, no sigil. But the shape of it… it echoes something he’d lost. Something offered back, one piece at a time. He lets the lid drop shut, slow and soundless.

Outside, the wind begins to pick up — soft at first, but steady. Snow scratches against the spire’s outer walls. Somewhere below, a wind flute moans. Dorn looks out through the vent-slit toward the north terraces, imagining her out there, scraping away frost, gathering plants with gloved hands worn thin at the seams.

He doesn’t say anything when she returns. But when she leans the gathered moss-root on the table and shivering off her coat, he takes it from her and hangs it near the hearth before she can ask.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Distant thunder rolls low over the hills, half-swallowed by the rock. The wind having grown teeth now — sharp and seething as it curls around the spire’s base. A thick, peppery scent filling the spire as Kessa feeds strips of moss-root into the hanging basket. Dorn sits by the hearth, sharpening his blade with slow, even strokes. The sound is steady. Calming.

Kessa glances over once, pausing in her sorting. “You always do that after storm signs”

He looks up, not stopping. “It’s the quiet. Makes the hands want to work.”

She snorts softly. “Sing to it next time. Save the edge some wear.”

He gives a faint smile but doesn’t answer. When she turns away again, he looks at her for a moment longer than needed — then lowers his gaze back to his blade. That night, he adds a second layer to the storm-seals without being asked. Takes her coat and brushes the moss-root dust from the sleeves before hanging it back up. Checks the fuel cell housing before bed. Quiet, practical things. No questions. No expectations.

She notices. Doesn’t say anything either. But as she banks the fire before sleep, her glance lingers on him a little longer than usual. There is something like a question behind it. And something like thanks.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They’re awoken to the sound of a heavy metallic clang. Hurriedly they put on their gear before cautiously peering through slits in the spire, listening to for any other sound. Only the sound of the wind can be heard. Heading out once they’re assured that they’re alone, finding that the sound had come from the outer sluice gate having buckled where the wind has sheared part of its mooring.

Dorn braces it with a salvaged support strut, driving it in with short, deliberate strikes. Kessa stands nearby, holding the tensioned line that keeps the panel steady. Her fingers are wrapped in frayed cloth, smudged with mineral grease.

“You know,” she mutters, “I’ve patched that hinge three times. You make it look like it might actually hold this time.”

Dorn grunts softly. “Didn’t have a fulcrum last time.”

“Didn’t have you either.”

She doesn’t mean it as a compliment, and he doesn’t take it as one. Just a fact. Like the cold in the metal or the long crack along the frame that hasn’t spread today. They work in silence after that — the kind that needs no filling.

Later, inside, Dorn replaces cracked slats on the grain rack while Kessa checks the root-cellar seal. The smell of charred resin hangs faint in the air, laced with the chemical mix she always uses when sealing cuts. He glances once toward the low table near the back of the spire — the one she keeps covered now with a tarp and old tools. She hasn’t mentioned it. He hasn’t asked. That evening, the winds change.

Kessa stands near the upper hatch, peering out across the distant crags. “You feel that?” she asks over her shoulder.

Dorn steps up beside her. Cold riding the air like a memory — dry and bitter.

He nods once. “It’s coming.”

She exhales, low. “Then tomorrow we lock it down. Top to roots.”

“Everything sealed?”

She nods. “Everything but the storm cage under the east stair. I’ll do it first thing.”

Dorn doesn’t argue, but he watches her for a moment longer than necessary. Then quietly moves off to prep more sealant from the stockpile.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night the storm rolls in, by morning the wind is no longer a faint moan. It keens down from the ridges like something with teeth — dry, sharp-edged. Kessa rises before the light fully crests and begins checking the inner seals with a small iron lamp in hand. Dorn is already outside, lashing the last of the water drums in the lee of the spire. His cloak snaps behind him, weighed at the hem with carved stone toggles she’d given him weeks ago. He moves with clipped purpose methodically, calm — but even he has begun to glance skyward more often. They work quickly.

The storm cage under the east stairs takes both of them. Dorn holds the rusted latch bar while Kessa drives in reinforced brackets with the heel of her boot and a rust-worn mallet. Wind shoves against them, gritting their faces with silt.

As the sun reaches its apex, the herd’s distant lowing has gone silent — no echo from the steam caves. Even the scavenger birds have vanished from the upper air. Inside, Kessa throws the last of the blankets down by the heating vents. Dorn checks the emergency reserves — protein packs, root mash, dried strips of gourd and meat.

When the first true gust strikes the outer wall, it sounds like a moaning animal. The storm claws at the spire’s reinforced flanks, they sit near the low hearth-pit. Kessa sets a shallow pan over the heated stone and sets to boil a thick broth with moss-root, dried meat, and firebitter. The scent fills the small space like comfort, anchoring them against the howl outside.

Dorn leans forward, cradling the warm bowl she serves him. A shallow slice marks his left forearm — a reminder from the sealwork earlier. He hasn’t yet bandaged it.

“You didn’t dress that,” she says.

“It’s shallow.”

Kessa gives him a look over her bowl. “Shallow turns to rot if you ignore it. Especially in these conditions.”

He grunts but holds the arm out. She set the bowl aside and crosses over to him, crouching with a tin of salve and clean cloth. Dorn watches her work. Hands steady, practiced, her touch brisk but careful. She patched him up before, when he was too weak to lift his head. He hasn’t forgotten.

“You’ve done this before,” he says quietly. “A lot.”

Kessa doesn’t look up. “Grew up doing it. For my brother, mostly. Then for others. When I could. Not everyone makes it long in vent work.”

She ties the cloth tight and sits back on her heels, the quiet between them filling with the fire's soft crackle and the muted fury of the storm beyond.

“Wasn’t exactly trained,” she adds. “But you fix what you can. That’s the rule. Let it take you or walk past it.”

He considers that, then replies, “You didn’t walk past me.”

A pause. She looks up at him then, something unreadable in her expression — not surprise, but maybe the shadow of it. She doesn’t answer, just passes him the bowl of broth. He takes it without another word, letting the warmth seep into his hand.

Later, when they’d eaten and lay in their bedrolls beneath the stone arches, the fire low and the storm still clawing at the walls, Dorn stares up at the ceiling while Kessa’s breathing settles beside him. Not asleep — not yet — but quieter. The warmth between them isn’t just from the fire anymore.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days pass under cloud-thick skies, the storm finally tapering off into brittle frost and a wind that howls like it has teeth. The herd remains in the steam caves, wisely rooted. Dorn and Kessa fall into a rhythm within the agri-spire — sealing draft-ridden seams, checking rations, foraging when the light breaks through. Their time together becomes quieter, steadier. Wordless stretches filled with simple work and the knowledge that the worst of the season has yet come.

Inside, the air smells of cooked moss-root and smoke, faintly metallic from the repairs Dorn had finished earlier in the day. Snow clings to the upper scaffold, crusting along the support beams in brittle sheets. Kessa moves slowly in the warmth of the central chamber, her hands still streaked with oil. Dorn sits cross-legged by the hearth-stove, half-dressed and eating from the shared bowl of root stew they’d made together.

She’s been quiet all day. Something in her manner as she fetches the last piece from the workbench. Something unreadable behind her eyes. She approaches with the bundle held in both hands, wrapped in salvaged cloth. Her expression wavering between resolve and hesitation. And then the radio—long dormant save for static—crackles to life.

“This is Vigilant Vox-Node Theta. If you can hear this…”

Kessa freezes. The voice is degraded but intelligible—filtered through dust and distance.

“…we are survivors of Crusade Action Group Ferrum—designation Astral Knights, Primaris designation. Vessel compromised; insertion failed…”

Dorn stands slowly, the half-eaten bowl forgotten. His face shifts—tightening, alert but subdued. That name. Astral Knights. The same worn sigil from the helmet at the trading post. The one that has lingered in his thoughts like a buried knife.

“…Mission parameters lost. Requesting support, reintegration, or Imperial confirmation. Repeat—this is Crusade Action Group Ferrum. Astral Knight elements confirmed active…”

Kessa looks at him, then down at the bundle in her hands. Her expression is unreadable, pale with something unspoken.

“…Signal locked on distress burst. Coordinates follow. For the Emperor. For Imperium Sanctus. Glory to the lost.”

The message loops. Static surges, then the voice repeats, grainier the second time. Dorn moves toward the receiver. Not reaching for it. Just listening. Weighing. A breath caught in his throat.

When he turns, Kessa has set the cloth-wrapped bundle on the table without a word. She doesn’t open it. Just watching him quietly, her eyes half-lidded in the hearth’s light.

“I didn’t want to keep it from you,” she says after a long moment. “I just… wanted it to be right before you saw it.”

His gaze lingers on the bundle. On her. Then he steps beside her, his hand lightly over hers. Outside, the wind whispers through the spire’s cracked vents. The herd stirs somewhere in the caves below. And between them, what they’ve come to build now tested by a signal from the Imperium, reaching out through ash and silence.

#warhammer 40k #wh40k #warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k oc #warhammer oc #wh40k oc #primarch x oc #warhammer fanfic #warhammer x oc #warhammer 40k x oc #rogal dorn x oc #rogal dorn #astral knights #primaris space marines

22 notes · View notes

writerfae · 1 year ago

Note

No thoughts, just Aiden and Henry hugging!

Also, how come Ranva used to call Henry little crow? (Not that it doesn't fit, it does (duh), I'm just curious if there's a story behind it)

And how did Hela end up in the human realm when she met Aiden?

Forest demons: uniting friends since day one!

And I wanted to rant at you a little about Bendegúz because I realized that I haven't really done that since I talked about his dad, and it made me sad, because I love him (also, I'm scared that sometimes I accidentally mischaraterize him because him and I have the same exaggerated humor but if you mix those together it just makes him sound insane💀)There's a very good reason why the difference between the villain Adél au, the villain Ákos au and canon is what Bendegúz does!

I wanted to tell you about some moments of his that I love (angst warning)

I mentioned that he and Ákos sometimes playfight, and Bendegúz sometimes shows him how to use his spear. And can you just imagine 8 yo Bendegúz with a 3 yo Ákos, and they're playing with sticks (pretending they are spears), and Bendegúz isn't that good with a spear yet, but to Ákos he already looks like an expert ❤️🥺

Also, there's this sweet moment where they're preparing to fly home from the swamp (and it's not the happiest circumstances for Ákos' first, real flight) and Bendegúz apologies for this and promises that after this is over they'll go on a real, nice, pleasant flight

The fact that he took care of Moss (who he doesn't even like) while Ákos was gone

When Adél is told that Ákos is dead the first thing she does is run to Bendegúz and he's holding her so tightly and aaaaa

Just his inner struggle of "It wasn't MY litte brother! I can't be sad!" But as soon as there's even the slightest chance to get him back, he's on it!

Both him and Adél being willing to go to the swamp even though they know that the chances of Ákos being alive are close to zero.

Adél and him spend so much time together! Ever since their parents introduced them to each other as babies they were always together. Never one without the other

Bendegúz learned to fly, and now him flying up to Adél's window just because, is a regular occurrence. They constantly have sleepovers (it's really easy since Bendegúz and his mom live on the castle grounds)

It's really cute because in Bendegúz's house Adél's childhood drawings are hung up, and vice-versa 😭

And they play a lot of boardgames 😭

He is very good at lighting up a bad situation with a joke but never in an inappropriate way. Just in those moments when people need a little cheering up, and this always makes his friends feel all warm inside.🥺

I'll stop cause we'll be here all day...(sorry if this got long)

I hope you liked this little rant 🙈

Ranva called Henry her little crow because of the color of his hair and for a second reason that I can’t say out in the open xD she also referred to her sons as her little crows sometimes, also for that second reason.

And Halea came to the human realm because while fighting the forest demon, the beast and her practically “fell” through an open portal to the human realm that someone (or something) must’ve opened shortly before and left open.

Bendegúz really is a sweetheart, his relationship to the royal siblings is really adorable! You can tell he loves them!

#writer speaks #writeblr

82 notes · View notes

ryiju-muunie · 8 months ago

Text

He'll jump in the river, you'll wish you're the water

18+ viewer discretion is advised

Omega!Trans!Zoro Roronoa/Omega!Trans!Sanji Vinsmoke Warnings: Omega Verse, Trans Male Roronoa Zoro, Trans male Sanji, first heat, t4t roronoa zoro/sanji, Coming Untouched, Nipple Play, Tribadism/tribbing, Vaginal Fingering, Making Out, Dubious Consent, theres plot to this porn, Omega/Omega, Love Confessions, Squirting and Vaginal Ejaculation, Wet & Messy, no when i say wet and messy i mean WET AND MESSY, induced heat, someones coming out pregnant and its not me, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Multiple Orgasms, Fisting, Sub Sanji, he might top but hes definitely no dom, Scenting, No Beta we die like block buster, Incoherent Maybe idk you tell me! but be nice Word count: 5095 DESC: Zoro was a beta. He was a beta who had never once in his life considered what it would be like to turn into an omega or even an alpha. But something on his skin was lit on fire and burning to be put out, deep inside his core, between his le- No! He had to focus, get something done at least! If he didn’t know any better it sounded like he was having a heat, but that was impossible. He was a beta after all, a beta who couldn’t go into heat… Right?

GODDDDD WHAT HAVE YOU DONNNEEE YOURE A PINK PONY GIRRL

Zoro was a beta. He was a beta who had never once in his life considered what it would be like to turn into an omega or even an alpha. He never once yearned to smell their pheromones or even feel what their different kinds of arousals did to their bodies. He never yearned to look at his omega roommate and wonder what he truly smelt like; well, he told himself he never did. Of course, the beta had been told before by their other friends he was sweet, bitterly so. But a part of him always thought about it. Was it sweet in a fluffy way, like pure sugar? Or was it sweet in the way of something more flavorful, like cinnamon or chocolate?

He liked Sanji in every way that was considered normal. As a friend, as a fighter, as a cook, and as a roommate. There was nothing more that lingered behind his feelings, much to Robin’s protests. She had insisted there was something more to his stare, although he pressed it was nothing more than her wild imagination. He never wondered about the omegas skin, how soft it would be underneath his fingers, how it would feel, how it would taste. How would his tongue trace circles around his neck, before biting down? How would the other man react to the sensation? Would he moan? Would he whimper?

Zoro instantly blinked, forcing the thoughts out of his mind without a second glance. He was seated on their joint couch doing some work on his laptop for a history class of his. No one had told him college was mainly reading, especially being a history major. And no one told him it would be harder to concentrate with his thoughts drifting to Sanji again and again. That was somewhat normal, but being so sexual in nature was odd. In fact, if he focused, he felt hot. Something on his skin was lit on fire and burning to be put out, deep inside his core, between his le-

No!

Roronoa shook his head, raking one hand over his cropped green hair. He had to focus, get something done at least! As hard it was becoming, the moss-head had to work! The man swallowed and tabbed back into his work, which was reading a passage and answering questions as he went. It was juvenile but about ancient weaponry, so he was starting to enjoy himself.

All of his enjoyment of schoolwork went away when his legs started to shift together. Almost uncontrollably his thighs pressed together to apply pressure to his pussy, shifting to alleviate the itch growing warm. It was unconscious and it was good, as his wetness started to pool around his underwear. It was… Zoro bit his lip and froze, spreading his legs apart and staring at his reflection in the computer.

Something was wrong.

Did he ingest some aphrodisiac drug that made him an aroused mess? Was his period coming? He was always overly horny before his period. But this was different, it was like Zoro was on fire. Every movement was sending shockwaves to his clit, making him wet. And that too! He was unbelievably wet, as if he was about to soak his pants through. If he didn’t know any better it sounded like he was having a heat, but that was impossible. He was a beta after all, a beta who couldn’t go into heat… Right?

The man tabbed into Google, hastily typing out the most embarrassing search he had ever concocted in his life. “Can betas go into heat… ye- Yes!?” Zoro muttered, sputtering when he saw the answer. It wasn’t a definite yes, but it wasn’t helping him, “Yes, some betas can go into late heat typically after their 21st birthday. Then will a late bloomer show their secondary sex and go into heat soon after… fuck.”

Zoro slammed his laptop shut and slowly set it on the ground, standing up. To his horror, the couch already had a growing wet spot, as his pants were soaked. He swallowed and whined when the friction of his panties sent a pang of arousal through his body, making him stop and shiver. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t be in heat. He couldn’t be an omega! He couldn’t especially when his roommate was ten minutes from coming home. His roommate who would know in an instant if he was now an omega from the pheromones that were probably oozing off of his body.

This couldn’t be happening; he thought as the man practically sprinted to his room. He pressed his body against the door to shut it, letting his back rest on the cold wood. It was bad he was going into heat late in life, and it was equally bad that he had no idea what came with it, or even what to do. Roronoa knew it involved sex and uncontrollable slick, but that was about it. He didn’t realize it would be this debilitating, this hard to keep his hands from his sopping cunt.

His fists balled at his sides and the moss-head tried to breathe, to gather some decorum not to go animalistic and fuck himself until he couldn’t think. But it was so hard, when his panties were stuck to his folds and aching to be pried off. It was hard when his nipples were hardened and poking through his binder, breasts yearning to be fondled. And it was so hot how he was falling apart, hands beginning to wander… What was he even thinking about beforehand?

Calloused hands ran up his side, pulling off his shirt and hooking underneath his black binder. It wouldn’t hurt to just be shirtless, yeah, it wouldn’t hurt. He nodded his head and took it off, exhaling as the squeeze subsided and his breasts laid back onto his front. Fingers prodded against the flesh and kneaded it, his index and thumb coming to run his nipple against the pads. A moan escaped Zoro’s lips that he couldn’t hold back. The feeling of his tits being fondled felt so good, so intense, he was so close already. Just a few more touches and he felt himself come undone, gasping and cumming into his slick filled underwear. It was a blinding flash of pleasure, running up his core and spiraling into his stomach, spreading down his legs within an instant.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed to fuck his pussy that was begging to be abused or he would go insane. Zoro wasn’t sure how but he ended up naked on his bed, spreading his legs and pumping his fingers out of his cunt. First it was one, then it was two, but fuck, it wasn’t enough. He needed three, maybe four- or just all of them! The pads of his fingers brushed against his g-spot, bending to poke at it. To massage it between his digits and soak the mattress underneath him further. His other hand came to his neglected clit, rubbing quick circles against the bundle of nerves.

There was no noise but his moans and the squelching of his honeypot, dripping down his ass and spreading slick against his thighs, “F-Fuck… I’m-I’m gonn.. Fuckkk… I’m gonn.. Gonna.. Ah..a-sh.. Shit.. ah..mm fuck…” It was so hot as his folds twitched, before coming undone and squirting his juices on the mattress below him, pulsating with each finger that continued to pump inside him. Zoro arched his back to the sensation of pleasure, feeling it leave his body. Almost being too much, he panted and continued to finger himself. Just a little more, he told himself, a little more.

He had almost forgotten his omega roommate was on his way home, opening the front door and whistling to himself. It was quiet in the apartment for a few moments, until Sanji heard a whimper escape his roommates closed door. At first, he chose to ignore it and put his stuff down, throwing his keys on the kitchen counter and resting his backpack on the island.

But then he smelt it. If he didn’t know any better, it was the smell of an omega deep in heat. It was savory, different than anyone he had ever smelt before. Something kind of like a sweeter bonfire, with that edge of smoke to it. And if he didn’t know any better, the blonde would say it was coming from Zoro’s room.

Sanji swallowed and approached the door, hearing the noises that fell from his roommate's lips almost instantly upon getting closer. It was mindless fucked-out begging, panting, whimpering, writhing for pleasure- for more release. He knew the sensation all too well. It sounded like Roronoa, but it couldn’t have been. That brute didn’t have a begging or whimpering bone in his body, for one. And second off, he was a beta. How could he go into heat and be a…

His twenty-first birthday was last week.

The cook knocked on the door, “Uh Zoro? Are you okay?” The wet noises stopped; moans being replaced with pure silence. He heard some shuffling and a loud noise, probably the moss-head falling over. When the door opened, he was greeted by Zoro, who was naked with sweat dripping down his face. His hair was pressed to his forehead and his skin was hot, red with lust.

“Curly brow,” he rasped out, clearly out of breath from the looks of it, “I think I’m dying.” One of his hands came up, shaking, to grip the doorframe, “I think I’m about to… die.”

The blonde sniffed visibly, “No… It’s clearly a heat,” he went to continue but his stomach dropped. It was an intense feeling that came on, causing him to grab the door and slam it in his friend's face. Warmth spread across his legs, down his cunt and up his spine, making him shiver, “Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.”

“...Curly?” Zoro asked from the other side of the door, “Are you dying too?” He was so out of it, because usually he’d at least make some sense. But now the moss-head was nothing more than incoherent babbles, leaning against his door and waiting for his roommate to appear again.

Slick started to pool in Sanji’s panties, making them stick to his vulva and fuck wouldn’t it be nice if he opened that door and fucked Zoro then and- He shook his head and pressed his head against the door, exhaling a shaky breath. He had to stay in control, he couldn’t lose it. He couldn’t do something he would regret with someone he held so dearly.

Sanji liked Zoro in every way that wasn’t normal. He was a kind, stupid, idiotic, pretty, stupid, man who knew nothing about basic manners. But he was Zoro, and God, it was hard to keep that door in between them. He didn’t want to ruin this with his desires, and he didn’t want his roommate to look at him the next morning with disgust.

“Sanji… Come in please,” the omega heard a quiet voice from his green-haired friend on the other side of the door, “I really want you to be with me right now.” It sounded genuine, it sounded real. Not clouded with lust, not clouded with his heat.

“That’s your heat talking, just give me a second. I think you triggered mine,” he forced out through gritted teeth, clenching his jaw to keep himself in check.

At that the so-called beta wrenched the ironclad grip that his blonde friend had on the door from him, forcing the door open so they could stare at each other. Sweat ran down his tanned skin and his black eyes bore into Sanji’s blue ones, searching for something. Was it consent? Was it an answer? But an answer to what? Whatever Sanji said or was it an answer to Zoro’s own feelings he had neglected for so long? Because, fuck, spending his heat with his roommate sounded so good.

“I always want you to be with me,” Roronoa whispered, extending his hand, “I don’t think that’s the heat. I think it’s my heat, idiot,” he pointed his other hand to his chest, pressing against the center as if he was pointing to his heart.

Sanji tried to hold back a laugh but it tumbled from his mouth, the corners turning up into a pained smile, “I always want to be with you. But in a… different way,” he took his roommates hand, gasping when their skin met. It was electric and it was right. As if every moment in his life had led up to this, so they could touch each other like it was the first time again.

“What way?” The moss-head slowly walked backward, pulling them into his room with ease.

“Um…” The blonde looked away and closed the door, “Romantically?”

Zoro stopped walking and looked down at their hands. They were interlaced, fingers against fingers, holding onto each other for dear life. As if when they broke it would be the end. He didn’t want it to break, he didn’t want it to end either. And the thought of being romantic with Sanji wasn’t unappealing at all. Especially with his arousal talking, it sounded pretty damn good.

He then nodded, “I like that. Let’s do it, curly.”

“Do… what?” Sanji narrowed his eyes, letting his mouth hang open for a moment.

“Romance stuff, like holding hands or kissing,” He then paused, “...Can we kiss?” His black eyes widened, the new omegas other hand coming to clasp over their joint hands. He pulled the other man in closer, staring with something new. This was the lust. This was that overpowering lust he had been fighting off for half of this interaction, before it won and took hold of his body. This was the thing that Sanji had secretly hoped would take over so he could let go and do something. Let his hands wander, fondle, touch, grasp at any surface he could.

Sanji nodded and their lips found each other, pressing together to make one person within an instant. Fuck it felt so good to kiss, pressing shallow pecks along both their mouths before it deepened. Before tongues lolled against one another and teeth collided. Pleasure spiked from this alone and, god, Zoro could’ve cum from this alone. The blonde's hands started to undo his own shirt, forcing the buttons off their holes and shrugging off the blue once he got a chance. His skin was perfect, made just for the green-haired male to run his hands along his newly flat chest. The scars were fresh but they were perfect, especially if they made Vinsmoke happy.

“I like you,” Zoro broke apart the kiss to press a slobbery one along his roommate's jaw, pressing more down his neck, “Like a lot.” His hands came to hook onto the jeans holding back his friend's cunt, which he could smell. God, he could smell the pheromones. It hit him and he couldn’t get enough of it. It was sweet, it was so sweet. He wanted to lick along the scent gland once he found it, just to taste more of that liquor against his lips.

“Marimo… I love you,” Sanji breathed out, helping him pull off his jeans and slick soaked panties. He was breathtaking, everything the other had imagined. A perfect pussy for a perfect omega, sticking out between his legs for Zoro to tease with two fingers.

He looked up at his blonde roommate, falling onto his knees to get a better feel for his folds, “You love me, cook?” Zoro’s fingers felt around the plush vulva, finding his engorged clit and running it between his pads. He forced himself to stare up into the blue eyes staring back at him with affection and lust, instead of diving into that pretty pussy.

“I think I do,” the blonde whispered, running his hand over green hair.

“I love you,” Roronoa leaned forward and pressed a kiss on his pubic bone, not minding the blonde hair that laid there, “I want to have sex with you a lot … too.” His eyes were blown out with lust as he kissed, sloppy open-mouthed kisses along his skin, taking his time as he worked up, meeting his lover's face with a smile.

“Yeah,” Sanji whined, grabbing the back of his neck to guide their mouths together, “Let me make this the best heat,” their lips met with fervor for longer than they should’ve, hands exploring lower and lower before he pulled back, “You’ve ever had.”

Mouths pressed and hands grabbed, fondling every part they could grab until Zoro’s back was against the soaked mattress again. His legs spread, slicked folds shining in the dull light as his lover pried them apart with gentle fingers. He dipped down into the wetness, hooking his hand to see how the new omega would react. Slowly brushing against his G-spot, it was easy to get the moss-head to let out whines that sounded foreign on his lips, arching his back to the pleasure.

Zoro was never someone who was submissive, but this heat was rendering his brain to nothing but mush. Mush that wanted the omega above him so bad. To live inside him and grab his body, pull him in and never let go. To mold their bodies and make him feel as good as he made the green-haired male. To make Sanji feel so good he can’t move, but instead whisper Zoro’s name like a chant- like a prayer.

Sanji fingered him for a little while longer, slicking his hand until it was sopping. He pulled it back and licked along his digits, taking it into his mouth and making eye contact as he sucked. He looked overjoyed to taste the moss-head, wanting so badly to dive inside and eat him up. Devour him on a platter and never come up for air.

“God, fuck me already,” Roronoa leaned his head back, turning it to rest on one of his shoulders as they gazed upon each other. The other loved to be a brat, loved to tease, even though they were both aware they both wanted to break the distance.

Sanji knew that all too well, leaning forward to press a kiss on his lover's nose, “Be patient. I’m gonna make you feel so good…” His hand spread Roronoa apart as his legs shifted, the left hooking overtop the others right. They molded together, as he leaned forward and pressed their pussies together. His outer vulva and bottom growth rubbed circles along Zoro’s cunt, all with slow jerks of his hips. Wetness upon wetness squelched as the blonde started to ride the other, rocking back and forth continuously to satiate the burning in his lower stomach.

“A-Ah~ You.. You’re… Oh my god…” Zoro gaped at him, two familiar hands coming to grab at his breasts and fondle them. Fingers squeezed his nipples, causing a surge of pleasure to drop into his aching clit.

“I’m gonna.. Mm.. I’m gonna fuck you so good…” Sanji whined, pressing further to calm the itch that needed to be scratched deep inside him, “You’re gonna.. F-fuck.. Hahh.. You’re gonna be all taken.. Mm taken ca-care of..ha.. Hahh.. Mari-... Zoro…” His engorged clit found Zoro’s, pressing into it and massaging with the slow grinding of his hips.

Zoro wrapped his arm around his lover's neck, bringing their faces together, “Sa-Say my name again.” He gritted through a tight jaw, bringing wet kisses to his neck, to his perfect scent gland. It tasted like sugar, becoming nothing more than a muddled shell of itself after he licked on it, kissed it, even nibbled a bit.

The blonde moaned, “Z-Zoro… Fuck..” He squeezed Zoro’s tits together, digging his fingernails into the skin, picking up his pace, “Zoro… You’re doing so good..”

“Y-Yeah?” He breathed out, wrenching Sanji into an open-mouthed kiss, tilting his head to tongue-fuck him with no remorse. They thrashed together, taking each other in- drinking each other in. To taste the blonde omega was better than any wine, any beer, anything he’d ever drank before. Fuck, Zoro needed him in every sense of the word.

“Yeah,” the man pulled back to marvel at the man quivering underneath him. Slick and wetness dripped down his thighs, smearing against his skin and down into Zoro, melding their bodies together as one, “Zoro.. fuck you’re so-so .. so.. So good..” Their clits were twitching in turn, so full of hedonistic delight it was almost too much. Even still, they wanted more of that hot satisfaction. They needed each other until time ended.

“Right there.. Yea-a-ah, that’s it,” Roronoa’s hand snaked to his lover's hip, pleading him to grind harder. It gripped his partner's skin and moved him, grating their heats together. His core was so close, so full to snapping and releasing fluids all over themselves. The coil that had wrapped itself in his stomach, buried deep with warmth was about to explode, dripping hot slick as they humped.

“Please,” Sanji mewled, pressing their foreheads together, “Fuck I need this.. I need you.. I need.. Zoro.. Z-Zoro I need you,” tears were streaming down his cheeks, rutting his pussy as quickly as he could to get some gratification. If Zoro had any mind he’d be making fun of him, but his brain was so drunk off of his omegas scent he couldn’t do anything more than moan and attempt to jerk his hips in tandem.

“I’m here,” he cooed, his free left hand coming to grab the blondes which were doing nothing more than flicking the others nipples. Their fingers interlaced and pressed into the mattress that creaked beneath their moving bodies, squeezing each other. The squeeze was to say this is real, at least they hoped it was. They both hoped this was reality and not some hyper realistic dream. Not something they could ever wake up from.

“I-I need you,” Vinsmoke keened, thrusting his honeypot against Zoro’s, hitting that perfect spot. The green-haired male was so close to coming undone, pressing himself into the mattress for some kind of leverage. Something to keep that feeling going, that perfect angle that was making him barely hold back.

“Y-Yeah.. I-I need you too.. f-f..mm.. Shit I’m.. I’m..” Zoro stuttered, his head falling back to loll against the bed.

Within the minute he felt himself crash, coming undone and releasing his fluids against his lover. It was warm and it was sticky, coming out in squelching waves. He groaned, the hand on Sanji’s hip coming up to grab his omega behind the neck and bring him down into a kiss. It was something more tender than before, something touching- No, not touching, something intimate. Something that combined their souls and made them one, once and for all.

His pussy was so sensitive as the omega kept humping him, mushing their folds together and using his spare hand to slide his fingers between the two for more friction. He found Zoro’s clit and started to rub on it, scissoring it between two fingers to get that delicate spot that melted underneath his touch.

“I’m so close,” the blonde let out a cry, “God, I’ve- I’ve wanted this for so long,” his voice rasped against his throat. This was better than any vibrator or any dildo, any rabbit or any rose toy. It was hot flesh rubbing against hot flesh for some kind of release they both could give, they both knew they could. And they wanted to. Holy hell, he wanted to cum all over Zoro and fuck it back inside him.

When Sanji did cum it was louder than his lover. His hips sputtered in tune, hot liquid dripping from his urethra on top of Zoro’s sloppy mound. It felt so good and freeing, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. As if the pleasure building in his gut exploded and cascaded down his front, into his core and flooded back into his face. He tried not to stop, to keep going but it was so much, too much for him.

Without speaking, the blonde scooted back from the others cunt, much to a loud protest. He tried to gather as much of their joint slick on his fingers as he could, before sticking digit after digit inside Zoro. He was going to fuck his hot slick right back inside his omega if it killed him. Vinsmoke was going to fuck him so good, make his first heat so good. Make every second of side stepping and awkward banter worth it so they could consummate their love once and for all.

“S-Sanji…” Zoro groaned, pressing his hips into the mattress and letting his back lift just a bit, “Wh… Mmm.. Don’t- f-fuck… Don’t stop..” He whined, something new but, fuck, it was hot. God, he was so hot when he was disheveled and begging for more. When he was covered in sweat and slick. When his pussy was throbbing and swollen, mercilessly begging for it to end but aching for it to continue. When his face was contorting into expressions, they both knew he couldn’t control, eyes crossing and tongue lapping out the side of his mouth.

“Good.. g-good boy. Yeah, that’s it… You like my fingers?” Sanji smiled, letting four fingers get swallowed by his lover's pink walls.

“Don’t get.. C-cocky,” the first time the whole night Zoro was conscious enough to make some sort of comeback, that was quickly drowned out with his mewling and whimpering for more, “Sanjiii,” he exhaled, “Fuck, you d.. Mm do so good.”

Sanji leaned down, letting his tongue graze his marimo’s quivering clit as his fingers pumped in and out of his pussy, “Is this too much?” His tone was teasing but his question was genuine, beckoning an answer out of the other with another lick to that oh-so sensitive clitoris.

“M-more… whole hand..” Zoro mumbled, nodding his head and spreading his legs back with his hands. He brought his knees up, holding his calves to his thighs to give Sanji better access to his pretty little core. Sanji, who slowly stopped fingering the other man to stare at him inquisitively.

“Whole… hand?” He repeated, but he nodded.

The four fingers were soon replaced by five when his thumb came to gently work his lover open, letting his knuckles pass through gummy walls. Sanji pinched his hand together, targeting that perfect g-spot that was swollen to the touch. It was just behind his clitoris and begging to be stroked and pet, begging to be abused by his digits. The slick made it incredibly easy to squeeze inside Zoro, painting the new omega’s thighs in clear wetness that the blonde couldn’t help but eye.

Zoro let out a moan when his lover started to fist-fuck him, gently dragging his hand in and out past his entrance to stimulate his core. And he let out another moan when Sanji’s mouth found his inner right thigh, sucking and licking along the skin to clean up that mess. It wasn’t just open-mouthed kisses, fuck, he was making out with the skin. Passion behind his mouth as he bit and teased, licked, kissed, and sucked tenderly. His spare left hand came up on the front of his omega's thigh to his knee, then back down, sending goosebumps throughout the other.

“You.. A-Ah~ God,” his groan was guttural, coming deep inside his chest, “You’re.. ha..hah.. I’m.. mm.. Shit..” Within seconds of being fucked with one whole hand, Zoro was cuming and squirting his hot wetness onto his lover. It came out in quick bursts, lightly spraying from his pussy and barely missing Sanji’s face.

Although, the blonde wouldn’t have minded tasting him, especially when he was so lust-drunk on the moss-heads … everything. Everything Zoro did was making the omega ache, deep inside his bones. Even without the guise of it being purely sexual, it made him throb. He was full of pure unbridled affection for the idiot beneath him, who stared at Sanji as if he was looking at an angel on Earth for the first time in his life.

Sanji slowly pulled out of him, making sure not to hurt him as he continued. When the other was emptied of fingers, that was when his lover leaned up and kissed him. Just as gentle and intimate as before, even more so now. They were bound, they were bound until time stopped. There was nothing that could tear their bond apart and create a rift between their bodies, between their souls. A hand came to cradle Zoro’s face, placing peck after peck on his smiling lips.

“I love you,” Sanji smiled into the kiss, letting his teeth brush against his lovers, “I really love you.” His mouth trailed to Zoro’s eyes, kissing the lids and dragging down to his cheeks. He placed deliberate kisses on his face that were inching toward that new scent gland on his lover's neck.

“I love you too,” their bodies entangled together in the pool of their wetness and slick, as Zoro’s heat finally began to subside. It would only be for now, but he’d relish in these gentle touches he was getting until he was blinded by arousal again.

“You’re not just saying that ‘cause of your heat?” He heard the blonde omega murmur, laying atop his roommate and pressing his nose against the new scent gland. It was a foreign feeling to Roronoa, but it was pleasurable. More relaxing in this context, more soothing.

Zoro wrapped his arms around the others back, letting his hands rest on the small of his back, “Definitely not.” He exhaled when Sanji licked a stripe against his gland, practically tasting the blonde's sweetness on his tongue. It became more prominent as he was scented, letting his eyes flutter closed to the calming sensation.

“I wasn’t lying,” Vinsmoke muttered into the gland, bringing one finger to trace around the edge, “I really have wanted this for a long time.”

“Honestly, me too,” the moss-head let out a yawn and nuzzled his head against his lovers, getting a low chuckle in response.

“You have such a way with words,” he teased, pulling back to face Zoro again. The omegas hands came up and cupped his face, relishing in the warmth that radiated off of him, “I love you.”

“I love you,” Zoro smiled back at him. Maybe being an omega wasn’t such a bad thing after all…

43 notes · View notes

yureichi · 1 year ago

Text

I’ve gathered quotes from twk and qon of Jude being in love but pretending she wasn’t bc why not. let’s gooo.

“My body has acclimated (to poison), and now it craves what it should revile. An apt metaphor for other things.”

“(After the crossbow incident) I am shaking, I realize. The aftereffects of believing someone tried to assassinate Cardan, of realizing he could have died.”

“I wish I could think of a place he’d be safer.”

“I look into his eyes. His hand slides to my hip, as though he might pull me closer. For a dizzy, stupid moment, something seems to shimmer in the air between us.”

“I still feel the warm pressure of his fingers against my skin. Something is really wrong with me, to want what I hate, to want someone who despises me, even if he wants me, too. My only comfort is that he doesn’t know what I feel.”

“Our gazes meet, and there’s a shock of mutual understanding that our bodies are pressed too closely. […] I am aware of the warmth of his neck beneath my twined fingers, of the prickly brush of his hair and how I want to sink my hands into it. I inhale the scent of him—moss and oakwood and leather. I stare at his treacherous mouth and imagine it on me.”

“Then his mouth is against mine, and my lips part. I close my eyes against what I’m about to do. My fingers reach up to tangle in the black curls of his hair. He doesn’t kiss me as though he’s angry; his kiss is soft, yearning.”

“I’ve wanted this and feared it, and now that it’s happening, I don’t know how I will ever want anything else.”

“I hate you,” I say, the words coming out like a caress. I say it again, over and over. A litany. An enchantment. A ward against what I really feel.”

“I hate you,” I breathe into his mouth. “I hate you so much that sometimes I can't think of anything else.”

“I like him better than I’ve ever liked anyone and that of all the things he’s ever done to me, making me like him so much is by far the worst.”

“She loves him, I realize uncomfortably.

His fingers trace their way down her arm to the back of her wrist, and I remember vividly the feeling of those hands on me. Kiss me until I am sick of it, he said, and now he has most certainly gorged on my kisses. Now he is most certainly sick of them. I hate seeing him with Nicasia. I hate the thought of his touching her.”

“I wonder if I will ever be able to look at him again without remembering what it was like to touch him.”

“It occurs to me that maybe desire isn’t something overindulging helps. Maybe it is not unlike mithridatism; maybe I took a killing dose when I should have been poisoning myself slowly, one kiss at a time.”

“[…] All I want to do is walk into his arms. I want to drown my worries in his embrace. I want him to say something totally unlike himself, about things being okay.”

“The offhand implication that he’s not alone most nights bothers me, and I hate that it does.”

“I cannot look at him as he goes out. I am a coward. Maybe it’s the pain in my leg, maybe it’s worry over my brother, but a part of me wants to call after him, wants to apologize.”

“I hope Cardan misses me.”

“I wonder what would have happened if I’d admitted he wasn’t out of my system.”

“But when I think of the night he was shot at, the night he did coin tricks, I can’t help recalling him gazing up from my bed, intoxicated and disturbingly intoxicating.”

“I am unnerved to find myself here, in the new High King’s new bed—one I am still too human to lie in, beside someone who terrifies me the more I feel for him.”

“But there is also a weakness in me, because I dreamed of him kissing me for all my time in the Undersea, and now with his mouth on mine, I want to sink my nails into his back.”

“I don’t want to think of someone else standing beside Cardan in my place.”

“The very thought of being there (Elfhame), of seeing Cardan, speeds my heart. At least no one is privy to my thoughts. Stupid as they are, they remain my own.”

“I want another bite at the everapple, another chance at power, another shot at him.”

"He looks every inch the spy from the Court of Shadows, down to the sneaky smile pulling at a corner of his beautiful mouth."

#she just kept saying well I like and worry and care about him and we desperately want to make out but of course we still hate each other #lololol #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #tfota #the folk of the air #jurdan

132 notes · View notes

nobathroombreak · 8 months ago

Note

Mikasa being told not to poop by eren and her holding it for as long as possible while on missions and how it affects them

Omg this is so hot. I’m imagining Mikasa feeling a subtle fullness in her bowels and a crampy ache in her stomach after dinner. She’s gotta drop an anchor. Heading to the rickety Survey Corp outhouse, she’s intercepted by Eren. His dark hair falls at his jaw and there’s something mean about his face, something insatiable.

“Eren?” Mikasa sways a bit, another cramp mounting in her stomach. She’s not scared, she could never be scared of him, but he is unsettling her. Her belly gurgles, low and warbling, as though it’s nervous too.

Eren steps up to her. He crosses past her personal space. He’s too close and then he’s whispering in her ear: don’t use the bathroom until I say.

Mikasa shivers, the command ringing in her ears even after he steps away, leaves her there in the dark, with her sphincter tightening as the thick log inside her retreats from her rectum, her traitorous body already operating on Eren’s demands not hers. And it seems only he can release her from his curse, because when she plants her pale ass down on the outhouse toilet, quietly grunting with a pretty flush staining her face, her body doesn’t listen to her. It’s not like she’s constipated. She can feel the massive turd sitting in her stomach like a brick, but her anus remains puckered and closed.

By day three, she’s getting desperate. Her farts are coming along hot and steady, shooting out past her squeezed cheeks when she thinks nobody is watching. Riding on her horse at least allows her to sink bubbly farts into her saddle. They ripple the soft flesh of her ass as they come out and have Mikasa sighing with relief.

Day four, she’s in Eren’s formation for the mission. He’s watching her. She can feel his eyes hot on the back of her neck. Her stomach moans. She needs to fart, badly, she can feel the gas building like a weather balloon expanding, pushing on the confines of her white button-up, straining the buttons as she rubs her tummy furiously, trying desperately not to rip ass in front of Eren.

Then, Eren says casually: “you can go now.”

Mikasa’s eyes widen. Her anus loosens just slightly but it’s enough to unleash her mighty winds. An obnoxious sputtering fart that sounds like a strangled duck blows out of that plump butt of hers, and, before she can even be embarrassed, she’s dismounting her horse, waddling to the nearest bush, and dropping her trousers.

She moans as a thick, doughy light brown log stretches her hole wide, sliding out of her and piling on top of itself like a mushy banana. She farts three times, ripping gas that sounds like cannon blasts, and then her hole is spreading open again, depositing two more huge turds onto the pile. Then, loamy soft shit surges, covering the stack of logs with butt batter. Mikasa finally looks up. Eren is atop his horse, staring at her with a crooked smile slashed across his face. He’s not the boy she knew. Mikasa averts her eyes, her face bright red, but there’s a part of her— a small part, sure, but it was still there— that wanted this to happen. She wanted to hold it in like a good girl for Eren. Then the shame overrides the pleasure and she wipes with damp moss.

#poop desperation #farting #eproctophilia

48 notes · View notes

fernclans · 2 years ago

Text

MOON 05. (part 2) (tw; none i think!)

Starring: Cliffpaw (BuddingClan), Flippaw (BuddingClan), Amberpaw (BuddingClan), Dashpaw (BuddingClan) Mentions: Magpiestar (FlintClan)

“May all cats of BuddingClan gather beneath the Echoed Stones for a clan meeting!” A ginger feline called before leaping, landing unsteadily at first atop their clan's gathering place; a set of three stone pillars, one taller than the others, where the leader, deputy, and head mediator would sit once upon a time.

“UGH- finally!” A small rosy brown molly bemoans loudly as she bounds around the grassy slope beneath, claws catching dirt between them.

Another cat strides forward, rolling his eyes when he sits. “You don’t have to say the whole thing every time, y’know Cliffpaw? It’s just the four of us.” Dashpaw teases, shooting the other tom a playful wink to show he’s not being serious.

“It’s better than us completely abandoning the traditions our clanmates died fighting to protect.” Amberpaw sneers, not picking up on the toms’ lightheartedness.

The half-white tom’s cheeky expression dissipates into a flat one of disappointment. “You don’t have to suck the air out of every situation, Amberpaw. Lighten up will you?”

“Could you two wait until after my ceremony to argue?” Flipkit complains, shooting both of them an exasperated look and sparing Cliffpaw from having to break things up himself. Both felines seemed startled at the younger cat's comment, both reacting with their own levels of embarrassment and apologies.

Cliffpaw clears his throat one more time, dipping his head to Flipkit in appreciation.

“Flipkit, you have reached the age of six moons and are ready to begin your training as a warrior of BuddingClan. From today forward, you will be known as Flippaw; while I can’t act as a proper mentor for you, we will all work together to complete our training as a clan.”

“I won’t let you down!” Flippaw meows back enthusiastically while Dashpaw and Amberpaw call her new name in celebration.

The cheering subsided and the three apprentices looked to Cliffpaw expectantly; there was still one more ceremony which needed to take place. His own.

For once, the confident tom looked uncertain, his remaining yellow eye concentrating down on his paws. “I, Cliffpaw, feel as though I’ve completed my training and that I am ready to take the full responsibility of BuddingClan’s first full warrior.” Not that he hadn’t done so already moons prior. “Though, to be honest, I’m not sure what I should call myself. Since I was a kit I always imagined Magpiestar being the one to do it, I hardly spared the thought of thinking of what I would want it to be.”

“You could just skip a step and call yourself Cliffstar.” Dashpaw meows jokingly.

Cliffpaw grimaces. “Even if StarClan didn’t smite me for that, I’m not sure I feel ready to call myself leader- not in that way.” He was a leader, but he didn’t feel quite like he could be the leader. "Besides, I haven't even trained an apprentice yet."

“How about Clifftalon? Or Cliffsnarl? Something cool and intimidating!” Flippaw chirps, eyes shining.

Amberpaw chuckles beside her. “Do you think Cliffpaw is intimidating?”

“Do you think Cliffpaw is cool?” Dashpaw jeers.

“Well I don’t, but other cats might.” The youngest of the four explains.

“Hey--! Come on!” Cliffpaw perches on the edge of the stone, tail swishing behind him. His vision spins slightly as he looks between his clanmates, claws sinking into the stone and moss for stability.

“Right, sorry.” Amberpaw shakes her head, looking up at him and taking notice of his unsteady state. “Do you want to get down? Dashpaw’s right, it is just the four of us…”

Cliffpaw shakes his head, regaining his former posture. “No, not until we settle my name.”

“What about Cliffstone?” Dashpaw meows, almost seeming sincere before following it up. “Because once you’ve set your mind on something, you’re as stubborn as one.”

Cliffpaw begins to grow frustrated. “I’m not that stubborn.”

“Yes you are! Only a cat as stubborn as you would make it back home with that kind of an injury still fresh.”

“Dashpaw kind of has a point.” Flippaw interjects. "He would've let CypressClan take care of him until they forced him to leave." All but Dashpaw laugh, the brown and white tabby tom feigning offense for dramatic effect. The moment subsides, leaving them back to where they'd began.

Amberpaw hums thoughtfully. “How about instead of stubborn, we can say reliable? Even after you were gone for days, we were sure you were coming back.”

Cliffpaw seems taken by surprise, a warmth filling his chest. “How sure?”

“As sure as the stripes on your back.” She smiles.

Cliffpaw goes silent, tapping his tail rhythmically against the pillar while in thought. “...how about Cliffstripe?”

“‘Cliffstripe’?” Flippaw echoed. “Isn’t that a little… basic? Come on, Cliffpaw! You fought a WOLF for StarClan’s sake!”

The dark ginger tomcat bristles somewhat, forcing his fur to go flat before replying. “We lost everything to those monsters- I won't give them my name too.”

Silence again fills the grassy slope, all cats feeling heavy under the weight of the past five moons. It's Amberpaw who breaks the silence again. “So, Cliffstripe, right? I like it.”

Dashpaw speaks next. “Yeah, it suits you.”

“Mm. It’s fine.” Flippaw pouts, just hoping that her suffix will be different.

Cliffstripe gives a weary smile, slowly easing his way onto the soft ground. He brushes against each of his clanmates, a deep purr rumbling in his throat while they depart.

#clangen #clan generator #buddingclan #buddingclangen #cliffpaw #flippaw #amberpaw #dashpaw #moon 5 #omg he's so big now

189 notes · View notes

astro-nomaly · 2 months ago

Text

Attack Dog: You're an Angel, I'm Your Dog

BOOM it's here. Minimal editing as usual but it's like 7k so leave me alone. Here's part one of this sub-au if you're interested.

@ren-cerati @highbookwormofthecentury @mother-spore-missa @flirty-anon @chaotetothecore @dumb-about-legos @pinkyprom3is @lithgns (you seem vaguely interested in this au lmao)

For context this takes place in some vague period of time wherein Akita is attacking Lloyd like every other night to basically coerce him into using his powers and getting stronger with them. She's already fallen into the trap of 'legitimately caring about the person I'm supposed to be manipulating' so. yeah. this is actually the first thing I ever thought up about this au so it was fun to write :D

CWs: toxic/abusive relationship, physical abuse, non-sexual restraints, emotional abuse/manipulation, victim-blaming, magical slavery (? non-sexual), kinda dubcon kissing, dehumanization, humiliation, background stalking, the weirdest most fucked up toxic yuri I could've imagined. I'd like to iterate that Harumi is NOT a good person whatsoever at this point in time. Content under the cut

Attack Dog AU: You're an Angel, I'm Your Dog

Akita quietly slipped through the broken wooden boards blocking the entrance to her new home in wolf form, slinking beneath rot and moss. She did so silently, like every other day.

The Quiet One — Harumi Hutchins, so Akita had been told — was sat in front of her vanity, silently applying vanity to her porcelain skin. They shared this space, the two of them. An abandoned church, built over a century before and left to rot with mildew and termites. It had once been very beautiful, and Harumi saw that as a challenge.

Only about two or so months ago, the small church had been falling apart, infested with rats and roaches. Half-dead vines had hung to the exterior in vain, forced to give way to the encroaching fauna that colonized the interior. Every cracked and grimy window was boarded up with bent nails, and the pews inside were broken and toppled without a care in the world.

Well, Harumi Hutchins didn't tolerate it. Akita had come to learn that her new… boss had a system in place, and thankfully a very simple one: nothing less than perfection. Everything had a place, and if it didn't, then Akita had better find one. The Quiet One didn't tolerate dirt, mess, or so much as a hair out of place. Within the next two weeks, the interior of the church was practically sparkling, and had been kept as such since.

Much to the Quiet One's chagrin, they couldn't do anything about the exterior of their new home. Appearances had to be kept up, after all. But the inside? Harumi went wild. She had polished every surface until it shone, dusted every spidery corner, and set up no less than three tea sets. Her vanity, of course, held a place of honor on the raised dais at the back wall of the church where Akita was told human preachers would, well, preach. Personally, she didn't get the 'hype', as Lloyd would say.

That was yet another strange thing about Akita's new life: Lloyd Garmadon, the Conduit and possibly her best friend in the world. Lloyd was completely indescribable, though that might just be Akita's lack of imagination. Harumi did say that she 'had no vision'.

But Lloyd was nice to her. He understood her without needing her to speak, which Harumi didn't like since Harumi didn't like 'people stealing her thing', whatever that meant. He could put up with her constant stream of too-loud words when she was too animated, and he didn't mind her one-syllable responses when she wasn't in the mood for conversation. He just… got her, in the way only one other person ever had.

And, well. She wasn't exactly getting any bear hugs from him anytime soon.

She buried the instinctive guilt that curdled in her gut at the thought of Lloyd. He couldn't just be her friend — he had to be her enemy, too. The Conduit was both her and Harumi's target, and that meant it was Akita's job to trick him day and night until he was under their control.

She hated manipulating him. One, she was no good at it. Two, it made her want to puke. She was hurting him, no matter her intentions, and it made her feel sick. She so desperately wanted to tell him the truth, but she was under strict orders not to. Not for the first time, she sort of regretted giving Harumi her Name.

She shook her wolf head, burying that as well. This was for the good of her brother. Once the Conduit made her brother whole again, they could be friends for real. Lloyd would understand. He understood everything, without ever needing words.

She shook off her wolf form, growing in height as she grew human skin and limbs. The fluffy white ears remained atop her messy black hair, as did the three white, red-tipped tails. She brushed away a stray strand of white hair on her wrist. She slipped off her book bag, which Harumi insisted was necessary for human school. Why, she could not fathom. It was not as though Akita used anything inside of it. She hung it on its designated hook, slipping off her shoes beneath it.

Harumi glanced up from her fancy mirror, in the middle of dragging mascara over her white eyelashes. She smiled, beckoning Akita over. "You're home! C'mere, puppy." As always with everything Harumi commanded, the tug of their bond pulled in Akita's gut. She could practically feel that hard-light collar around her throat. She swallowed, burying that as well. She trusted Harumi.

Somewhat. Usually. At least as far as Akita could reasonably throw her.

She obeyed Harumi's implicit order, back ramrod straight as she carefully walked through what she knew were Shade-infested waters. She hated those damn things. Changelings usually couldn't stand the liminal in general, but Shades especially freaked her out. Maybe because they weren't ever really sentient in the first place. They didn't obey the liminal out of some sort of compulsion or willingness — they just weren't conscious enough to refuse.

She stood behind Harumi as the taller girl swiped thick mascara over her lashes. "What'cha think, puppy?" She asked, glancing at Akita's reflection in the mirror. She didn't seem to actually care for Akita's response or opinion, which always frustrated her, and Harumi knew it frustrated her. Akita hated not being able to know when people actually cared for her thoughts or were just talking to themselves.

This was just another instance of Harumi being mean. The girl was always mean. Not in the really cruel way that Chen was to Lloyd — and oh how Akita reveled in threatening that stupid human boy for touching her pack — but in the nice, teasing way. It sometimes felt condescending and patronizing, but that was just how Harumi was. Akita had learned to deal with it.

"It is… nice," Akita said softly, choosing the safe route. Harumi hummed, tilting her head. Her long white hair, pin-straight and silky-smooth as always, drifted over her shoulders elegantly. Akita was violently jealous of how effortlessly graceful Harumi could be.

"Mm," Harumi capped the mascara, leaning back in thought. "Black is so… basic, though. Red wouldn't stand out… pink matches my eyes, but that might clash with the getup." Akita listened to her talk — not ramble, because Harumi despised any insinuation that she was ever anything less than the picture of poise — without really absorbing the words. Harumi did that — talked circles around her meaninglessly. It was easier to zone out and pretend she understood instead of looking stupid.

But she caught the last word. "Getup?" She asked reflexively, cursing her big mouth when Harumi gave her that condescending look. The one that said Harumi knew how much smarter she was. Akita had never been good at reading people, but Harumi made it painfully obvious when she was being mean.

"Mm-hm," she hummed, despite knowing that Akita didn't like the hum-responses because they didn't make sense. She leaned into the mirror, wiping away the mascara she'd already applied and uncapping a new one. "I'm going out with you tonight, pup. Thought I'd pay the Conduit a visit. I mean," she smirked at Akita through the mirror's reflection, obviously reveling in the discomfort she'd caused the changeling. "It's unfair that I know so much about him and he's never even met me, isn't it?"

Akita bit back a whine. She didn't want this. She didn't like it when Harumi made plans without telling her, even if it was Harumi's job to make the plans. Like the Quiet One had said: she made the plans, and Akita followed them. That was their dynamic. Harumi, here, scheming and studying and keeping all her complex thoughts locked up tight while Akita lied to her best friend.

So it made her upset, that Harumi was breaking the dynamic. Why was she doing this? Why was she changing things?

"W-why?" She asked tentatively. Harumi didn't answer at first, occupied with her makeup. Her lashes had been turned pink by mascara. It matched her pink irises, bordered by black sclera. Harumi sighed, wiping off the mascara again.

"Like I said," Harumi replied, uncapping her usual white mascara. "Thought it was time I introduced myself. Can't make a bad first impression, right?"

"R-right."

Harumi finished with her mascara, smiling slightly. Then her thin eyes drifted to Akita, and narrowed. She casually uncapped a tube of lipstick, swiping it over thin lips. She studied her reflection with scrutiny. "Ugh," she hissed quietly. "This color… c'mere, doll," before Akita could process anything, Harumi's hand lit up with the tell-tale light of the red collar. It flourished around Akita's neck, the lead wrapped around Harumi's thin fingers. Akita made a strangled sound as Harumi pulled her down carelessly, pressing their lips together. Her eyes widened as Harumi pulled away just as quickly, studying Akita's lips in disinterest.

"Mm," Harumi murmured, eyes narrow. She pushed Akita away again, just as carelessly as before. The changeling stumbled, lips still tingling. Harumi paid her no mind, wiping off her now smeared lipstick. "Wrong color," she muttered to herself.

Akita blinked, shaking fingertips pressing to her own lips. They came away stained the color of Harumi's lipstick. She tried to calm her rapid heart and the confusing fire in it. She could never understand why humans did certain things, but wasn't kissing a mating thing? But Harumi had never had any concept of personal space or boundaries, so maybe it meant nothing. Whatever it was, it had Akita off-kilter, a bobbing raft at sea. Harumi was always doing this — messing with her, sending weird signals and barreling past boundaries.

Not that Akita was allowed to have boundaries when it came to the Quiet One.

Harumi smirked in the mirror's reflection. "Suits you, though," she teased. Akita burned red in the face. She shook her head, desperate to get herself back under control.

"What-" her voice cracked and she swallowed, starting over. "Aside from… meeting him," she said, "what are you planning to do to Lloyd?"

"Just call him the Conduit," Harumi said, leaning into the mirror as she applied a new color. "Really, you'd think changelings would be better at separating lives, huh?" She laughed to herself. At Akita's insistent look, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, calm down. Nothing worse than what you do." She popped her lips, now primed with dark lipstick that would match her clothes. Right now, she wore a sleepy t-shirt that hung off of one shoulder, making her look so much nicer than she was. As always, a weird part of Akita wanted to bite that shoulder until it bled the color of her own markings. Maybe she missed biting her brother and the comfort that came from it.

Maybe she just wanted to hurt Harumi.

Harumi stood, flipping her hair over her shoulder. She smiled down at Akita, a few inches taller than the stockier changeling. "But things have to move along eventually, puppy. If the Conduit is ever going to do what we want, he needs some incentive." She patted Akita's head, scratching her ear. "Don't worry your sweet head about it, m'kay?"

Akita flushed with a jerky nod, stepping back awkwardly. Harumi always made her feel so… small. Small, and stupid, and utterly helpless. Without Harumi, Akita was unmoored in a hurricane. With Harumi, she was in the eye of the storm. Calm for the moment… but it could always shift and have her floundering again. She would do anything to stay in the eye, even if it meant getting dragged around by the neck.

Harumi hummed to herself, rustling through the wardrobe she had set up. Akita rubbed her arm, shifting nervously. She didn't want Harumi to meet Lloyd. She wanted to keep Lloyd in their own little world, separate from the confusing whirlwind that was the Quiet One. Lloyd was already dealing with enough when it came to Red. Did he really need the genius sociopath thrown into the mix as well?

She swallowed, eyeing the tattered hands of Shades that instinctively curled up toward Harumi from the floor. "…Rumi?" She called softly. Harumi glanced over her shoulder, one thin brow arched.

"Yes, doll?" Akita buried that, too. Harumi never stopped using patronizing nicknames for her, but Akita knew using Harumi's nickname would get her to listen to Akita more. Yet another strange facet of their dynamic.

"Maybe…" she took a deep breath. She was better than this, right? She could be strong. For Kataru. For her friend. "I want to tell Lloyd," she said firmly.

Harumi's hands dropped the purple and black gi as the Quiet One turned to face her. Her pink eyes sparked with hidden danger. "What." Her voice dripped with venom, and Akita was violently reminded that she wasn't the only shapeshifter here.

Nerves prickling, Akita answered again, "I want to tell Lloyd that I'm Red. I don't like keeping secrets from him, and I don't like scaring him."

Silence rang between them. Harumi didn't so much as blink as she stared at Akita. Her face betrayed no emotion. She slowly stalked toward Akita, each step causing another jolt of anxiety in Akita's stomach. She bent over Akita, white hair falling in a curtain around their faces as one pink nail dug into Akita's soft chin. A warning.

"And what, pray tell, makes you think it matters what you want?" Harumi whispered. The sound sent shivers down Akita's spine. She swallowed thickly, trying not to think about the claw that pressed into her skin.

They were friends. Akita knew they weren't friends like she was friends with Lloyd, but they were friends. That's what friendship was, right? Comforting one another, being together? Sharing contact? Well Harumi shared so much contact it made Akita want to rip her skin off, and they lived together, and Harumi comforted her every time she dreamed of Vex. Harumi had given her revenge and a solution to her problems. Akita didn't know where she would be without Harumi, so she had to trust that the Quiet One would hear her out on this. They were friends, and friends listened to each other.

She ducked her chin, slowly stepping away from the threatening nail. Harumi watched her like a hawk. "He is my friend," Akita repeated. "He is kind to me. He is a good person, and- and I don't want to lie to him anymore."

Harumi stared at her for another long second before she suddenly burst into laughter. Akita stiffened, curling back defensively as Harumi laughed in her face, shaking with it. She wiped a fake tear from her eye, glaring at Akita with a mean grin. "He isn't your friend, mutt, he's the Conduit! You think- what? That he likes you?" Akita bit the inside of her cheek. Harumi shook her head, still giggling. "Please. He likes the version of you that I created. If anything, he likes me."

"That is not true!" Akita shot back. "Lloyd is my friend, Rumi. He understands me."

Harumi sighed through her nose like Akita was a frustratingly naive child. "Oh, puppy," she drawled. She flicked her wrist and the collar appeared back around Akita's neck. The changeling yelped as she was dragged back into Harumi's cold embrace. Harumi's cold fingers gripped the sides of her jaw, holding her in place with deceptive strength. "He doesn't understand you. Let me say it in a way you'll understand: he doesn't like your clothes or hair or personality. He doesn't like your interests, and he doesn't give a fuck about your problems." All the while, that pretty porcelain smile glared down at Akita. She tried to duck away, but Harumi's nails just dug deeper, leaving the skin raw and red. "Wanna know how I know, puppy?"

Akita jerked back but the leash didn't budge even a bit. She bared her teeth at Harumi, watching those dangerous pink eyes flash at the sign of disobedience. "Let go," Akita growled. Harumi tsked and jerked her closer, her entire palm now squeezing Akita's cheeks.

"Because none of those things are yours, mutt," Harumi continued as if Akita hadn't said anything at all. Her ears pinned back over her head at the venomous tone. How could a person sound so cruel and look so kind?

"They're mine. I pick your clothes, I pick your hair, I decide what your personality is. Everything the Conduit thinks he likes about you is something I specifically curated to make him."

Harumi leaned in, lips barely brushing her hair as she whispered into Akita's wolf ears. "Akita as he knows her doesn't exist. There is only me and what I want."

Then she pulled back, releasing Akita entirely. The changeling stumbled back, holding her throat. Her heartbeat roared in her ears as she stared at Harumi. The person she thought she knew…

Were they friends?

Was she right? Were all of Akita's friendships just a lie? She'd never been able to connect with anybody before, so why would they be different?

She wanted to hunch, to duck down and accept it, but she couldn't. Lloyd was her friend.

"Not true," she said again. Harumi looked at her like she was a rambling idiot. Akita's fists clenched at her sides. "That's not true. I- I know things about him even you don't, Rumi."

Pink eyes flashed. Harumi tilted her head, one hand slowly thumbing her gemstone necklace. "Oh? But how, puppy, is that possible? Unless you've been lying to me-?!" Akita choked as the collar dragged her to the ground. She hit the ground hard, crying out as old wood dug into her arms. Harumi snarled as she snatched the lead up until Akita was forced to stare up at her from the ground.

"How dare you," Harumi hissed, an inch from Akita's nose. The changeling tried clawing at the lead, but Harumi's foot mercilessly came down on her hand, pressing it into the floor. Akita yelped as Harumi snagged her by the hair, jerking her head back up. "You've been going off script! Do you actually believe he'd like you?! You, the changeling? Red?!" She barked with laughter as Akita whined at the pain in her skull. "It's like you don't even comprehend your own stupidity!"

"Get off!"

"Oh no," Harumi hissed, winding the lead around one wrist as she jerked Akita to her feet. Akita tugged back, a growl building in her throat, before Harumi pushed her back. Before Akita could get her bearings, Harumi's foot brutally kicked her down the dais, sending her sprawling to the ground.

Akita gasped, the wind knocked out of her as her head hit the ground. She trembled, propping herself up on her forearms weakly. Harumi stood still on the dais, coldly observing her. From this angle, she was shroud in darkness.

"I don't think you comprehend what's going on here," Harumi said quietly. Akita shivered at the cool tones of her voice. She had this uncanny ability to make everything feel cold and silent. Akita rubbed her neck, inching back. "See, we have a deal, mutt. You do what I say, and in return, I make the Conduit put brother bear back together." Akita couldn't help the low growl at the mention of her brother.

Harumi lifted her amulet, pink wisps of smoke flowing from it and into her pale palm. The silhouette of a man and bear circled one another. Harumi plucked the human silhouette between two fingers, squeezing it into thin particles. "It's like you don't even want him back," she whispered.

Akita lurched forward, desperation burning in her chest. "I do-!"

"Then why are you trying to jeopardize the mission?" Harumi demanded. "If the Conduit knows what we're trying to do, he'll book it!"

Akita sucked in a ragged breath, flicking back and forth between the still-present bear and Harumi. "He won't," she breathed. She used a pew to pull herself to her feet. Why couldn't Harumi understand? "I- we're friends, Rumi. If I explain everything, he'll agree to help! H-help us both."

Harumi glared at her with pink slits for eyes. Then she turned her palm over, letting the silhouette of her brother's bear form fall to the ground. She walked over it without a care, crushing the illusion underfoot.

"No," she said simply. "He won't."

Akita flinched. "But why?" She asked desperately. Everything was too tight, too much. Why was Harumi being so cruel? Isn't this what she wanted too? Akita was supposed to be making the Conduit strong enough to carry out Harumi's plan, but wouldn't the Conduit be stronger if they could be transparent? She just wanted to tell her friend the truth. "He'll listen, he will! Lloyd is nice to me-"

"That's all it takes, isn't it?" Harumi whispered. Akita had barely noticed how close she'd gotten. Harumi stroked Akita's cheek, making her flinch again. She couldn't forget how those hands had manhandled her. Harumi paid it no mind, just continued touching. "Somebody to be nice. Doesn't matter who, or why…" Akita pulled away, but Harumi just followed with that mean grin. "You're so pathetic, puppy."

"Stop," Akita muttered. She didn't.

"I have plans," Harumi said. "Plans that you're too stupid to understand. That's how it is, and it's good, isn't it?" Akita's eyes burned as Harumi stroked her hair condescendingly. "I handle the hard things, and you do what you're good at: biting who I tell you to bite, like a good dog. So if you give even half a shit about your brother-" she tugged Akita's hair, making the changeling whine as her head was violently ripped to the side. Harumi leaned in, the scent of her strawberry mouthwash filling Akita's nose. "-you'll do what I fucking say," she finished.

With that, she left. She let go of Akita and turned around with a little spin, her hair flowing over her back as she went back to her wardrobe. Akita breathed heavily, her chest constricting and limbs aching, but Harumi ignored her.

Like a good dog.

Akita realized, watching Harumi hum as she picked out outfits with a self-satisfied smile: Harumi wasn't her friend. Humiliation burned inside of her, tears pricking in her eyes. Harumi had never been her friend. She had never comforted Akita to be nice, and the constant hugs and kisses and pets weren't out of affection. Harumi didn't like her like a person, she liked her like a pet.

Harumi wasn't the nice kind of mean that meant they were friends. She was just mean.

Her breath hitched as tears began falling. Every instance of vulnerability she'd afforded Harumi, every time she'd curled up next to Harumi in bed after a nightmare, every time she'd confided in her-

She hiccuped again, face burning in embarrassment and betrayal. Harumi never liked her. Harumi was never nice. Harumi doesn't care.

Harumi likes being mean.

Every interaction sours in Akita's mind. She'd thought Harumi was kind for everything she'd done, but she'd just been using her all along, hadn't she? Akita saw her as a friend — Harumi saw her as a pet.

Akita backed up slowly, anger rising in her gut. She hadn't dared to be angry at Harumi, not since Harumi had Bound Vex and given her an outlet. But she didn't want to torture Vex forever anymore. She wanted Lloyd and her brother back.

Harumi didn't even spare her a glance. She was so confident in her own manipulation, so sure of herself. Akita felt a snarl curl on her lips.

"I'm telling him."

Harumi froze. She turned to Akita. "Excuse me?"

Akita, miraculously, managed to keep her voice level. "I am telling Lloyd," she repeated. "I am telling him that I'm Red, and you're the Quiet One. I'm telling him about you and all the secrets we've kept."

Harumi's face contorted in an ugly snarl. "Don't you dare," she hissed.

Akita met her eyes defiantly. Harumi was not her friend. Harumi did not like her. But Lloyd Garmadon did.

Akita did go off script. She said and did things Harumi had forbidden, and Lloyd didn't care. Somewhere, sometime, he went from a target to a friend. Akita never felt small around him, and she never felt stupid.

"You can't stop me." The easy thing, she thinks, about being so bad at having friends is that it is very easy for her to stop having them at all. She could ignore the whining in her throat and heart. She could bury the lingering yearning for touch and affection, for hands to pull her up from loose dirt.

She turned her back to Harumi, refusing to hesitate as she left. Harumi watched her go coldly. A dark shadow settled over her face as a thin sigh left her lips.

"Oh, puppy," she whispered so quietly it was like Akita wasn't even meant to hear her. But she did, ears pricking at the venomous tone. Harumi's thin eyes glared at her as she raised one hand, fingers pinched together. "I think you'll find that I can."

Her fingers snapped together. Akita choked as the red collar of their bond yanked her backward, sending her to the floor. She growled, tugging at the leash with one hand. "Let me go, Harumi!"

"Oh no," Harumi stalked down the dais, her hand alight with red magic that held Akita down. "You don't get to tell me what to do, mutt. See, you gave me your Name." She crouched down, wide, emotionless eyes boring into her. Her other hand threaded into Akita's hair with long, thin fingers, entangling in her curls. Harumi yanked her up, making Akita choke and splutter as she was caught between the collar holding her to the floor and Harumi pulling her up until their faces nearly touched. Harumi thumbed over Akita's still stained lips with her glowing hand. The red sparks sent electricity down her throat.

There was no emotion in Harumi's face, not even rage or condescension. Akita couldn't help alternating between growling and the instinctive prey response to run run run.

"Know what that means? I own you, dog," Harumi hissed. She tugged Akita's hair again, making the changeling whine. "You do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. You are an attack dog."

Akita snarled. Harumi wanted a dog? Fine. Her bite was so much worse than her bark.

Akita's face elongated into a furry snout as her limbs bent and retracted. Harumi, disgusted, snatched her hand back as Akita's hair disappeared in favor of thick white fur. She snarled, back hunched as Harumi stood up. The Quiet One didn't seem worried at all. She simply observed the wolf in front of her, unimpressed.

"Is this what we're doing now?" She said loftily. "Fine. But you made me do this."

She raised one hand, red sparking at her pink fingertips. Akita snarled, ready to fight back against the collar, but Harumi didn't summon it. She simply murmured, "Change."

Agony raced up Akita's body as her body contorted violently. She howled, a mix between a human scream and bark as her bones seemed to snap like twigs. She gasped, shaking, as her body was forced to become human once more. Harumi watched coldly as Akita fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut loose. The changeling wheezed into the dusty floorboards, claws weakly scrabbling at splinters.

Harumi lifted her foot, pressing her heel to the floor. Her foot slowly pressed into the side of Akita's neck. "This is my fault," Harumi whispered as Akita reeled back against the foot on her neck. The red hard-light collar snapped into place, tethering her to the floor until she could back away no further. "I've been too lenient with you, pup. That's the thing about dogs; you have to train them early on, before they start thinking they're in charge. It's like potty training, y'know?" Her foot still pressed against Akita's neck, she crouched to the floor. Her head tilted to the side as she snagged Akita's curly black hair in lithe fingers, forcibly turning the changeling's head to face her.

Akita's breath puffed hotly in front of her as she wheezed against the collar. Sweat pooled in her eyes and upper lip. Harumi tsked. "That's what you're doing, right? Pissing all over my plans?"

"L-let go-"

Harumi's lip curled. Before Akita could say any more, the hand in her hair tightened and slammed her face into the floor. Akita cried out as her nose cracked with a wet noise. Harumi calmly lifted her back up, pressing her boot down even harsher as she swiped at the blood flowing from Akita's nose. The changeling could only gasp and wheeze, caught between the pain in her face and neck.

Harumi sucked on her finger, cleaning the blood from pale skin. "No," she said. "You don't give me orders, dog. Things are changing, now, since you can't be trusted to follow simple instructions. Not as well-trained as I thought, hm?" Harumi stood, but her foot didn't budge from Akita's neck. Her cold eyes glimmered like pinpricks of light in the dark.

"So, let's rehash. You are an attack dog. I own you. That means you do what I say, when I say it. If I tell you to sit, you will sit. If I say lay down, you lay down. If I say, 'continue lying to and attacking the Conduit', then that's exactly what you will do. Because, Akita," she bent at the waist, her weight pressing deeper into Akita's skin as she mocked her accent, "you. Are. A. Dog. My dog."

Akita breathed harshly from her mouth, her hand weakly wrapping around Harumi's ankle. She tugged, trying to free up her airways. Harumi didn't budge. She never budged. Never took no for an answer, never took any suggestion other than her own, was never shaken from her iron-fisted convictions.

How had Akita ever thought that this was a person she could care about? Could care about her in return?

"Fuck off," Akita growled with what little breath she had. Blood gurgled in her broken nose, smarting every time she moved. She sucked in another ragged breath, coughing weakly. "L-Lloyd is- is going to find out-"

Harumi rolled her eyes. "He won't, because he won't care to look. Why would he? I've given him everything he ever wanted on a silver platter." She glared at Akita. "I would've done the same for you, but you just had to try and get smart."

Did… did she sound betrayed? Was the Quiet One actually betrayed by Akita? Good. Good! Let her see how it feels.

"Lucky for you," Harumi continued, "I don't have the brain of a fucking dog. I can see the bigger picture." She sighed, but there was something strained in her tone, like she had to make a real effort to sound lofty and dismissive. Akita had never heard her like this. Like her plans weren't working. "So, again, let's refresh your memory."

Harumi summoned the collar, drawing Akita to her feet. The changeling slumped, boneless, too tired to pick herself up. The collar held her up more than her actual muscles did. Harumi shook her head in disgust. "God," she hissed, "I can't imagine how weak the Conduit is if this is all you can take."

"Fuck you," Akita spat. Blood seeped into her mouth, tinging her tongue in iron. Harumi cupped her cheek, deceptively kind. Akita couldn't understand how she did this, alternated between unrelentingly cruel and eternally patient. It gave her the worst sense of whiplash.

Harumi thumbed over her red markings, something that could be mistaken for fondness in her eyes. "I'd like to remind you, sweetheart," Harumi whispered in a sweet, lilting voice, "That you gave me your Name. You came to my home, crying about poor brother bear, and I told you I would fix it in return for the Conduit. Before there was the Conduit, who knows as much as I say he gets to know, there was me. Who saved you? Who offered you a solution? Who cared for you, gave you purpose? Me." Her hand squeezed on Akita's cheek. The pulling on her skin only aggravated her broken nose.

"You never cared." Akita couldn't keep the whine from her voice, the hurt of betrayal. "Y-you didn't care about me."

Harumi ignored her. "You agreed, if you'll recall," she said. "You said, if my memory serves correct, 'yes, yes, yes'. You chose this." Harumi let go of her cheek, dusting her hand off on her shirt like she'd touched something gross. Akita growled between short breaths, limp. Harumi observed her coldly, twirling the chain lead of the collar — of their bond, how could Akita have ever thought that this bond meant anything but subjugation — in between her fingers. Then she dropped it.

Akita collapsed to the ground in a heap with nothing to hold her up, too surprised to brace for it. She groaned as aches spread over her body, curling up into a loose ball.

Harumi tapped her lip thoughtfully, eyes gleaming. "You are right about one thing, though," she said. "I never did care about you, and neither does the Conduit. The only person who loves you is your brother, and if you loved him half as much, you'd have been in his place." Akita's eyes widen, grief taking hold in its familiar place against her throat. Harumi folded her hands. "That's why you're going to do as I say if you ever want to prove that you love him. That's why you're going to make sure he didn't suffer in vain, aren't you, mutt?" She shook her head. "You never should have assumed anybody else could care for you. But…" she let out a drawn-out sigh. "Well, you know animals."

Tears pricked at Akita's eyes. She'd really thought someone cared about her problems. Really thought she'd found someone who understood her. Was this how everyone saw her? Just an aggressive animal? This whole time, had she really just been a pet to Harumi, convenient enough to pretend to like? They'd laughed together, they'd spent time together, and Akita had always been aware of their bond and the power she'd given Harumi, but-

She'd just thought that it didn't matter. That it wasn't anything more than a contract, something to give Harumi enough freedom under her own boss.

Stupid. So, so stupid.

Harumi crouched down. Her cold hand smoothed over Akita's curls, brushing the tangled locks softly. "So," she whispered. "Like an animal, you just need somebody to do all the thinking for you. But that's easy, huh? Just keep doing what you've been doing — the ugly, dirty things, while I do the thinking. That's what makes us such a good team, huh, puppy?"

A team. But they weren't equals — Harumi was the owner, and Akita was the dog. The leashed dog.

"You've been so hurt," the Quiet One whispered. Through wide eyes, Akita saw her. Long, pin-straight white hair, the upper half of her face coated in thick red paint, her eyes shining against the pitch black of her sclera — an angel. Her hand smoothed back the sweaty hair from Akita's forehead. "Tell me how to fix it." This angel… she could save Akita, she realized in that moment. She could fix everything wrong. She was there for Akita where nobody else was.

"You're not on my side," Akita gasped through tears. "You were never- never on my side."

"No," Harumi agreed with no remorse. "But you can be on mine."

"I'm not," Akita snapped. "I'm on Lloyd's side!"

"No," Harumi sighed. "You're not." Akita grit her teeth as the hard-light collar around her throat flashed red. Harumi tapped it with her pointed nail. "You may not be on my side, but you are my dog. So, when I say sit…"

The collar tightened. Akita gasped as it slowly shrank, digging into flesh with harsh edges. She pulled away from Harumi, and Harumi let her. Akita tugged at the collar, panic settling in as it only got smaller and smaller. She gasped, wheezing. She couldn't take it. She couldn't take this.

Harumi stood to her full height. She reminded Akita of a cat — effortlessly graceful, silent, always watching and waiting. She tilted her head with a mean smile, her hair falling over her shoulders. It wasn't even mussed by their fight, if one could call it that. "When I say sit," Harumi repeated, "what do you do?"

"No!" Akita yelled, then choked as the collar dug in deeper. It was quickly crushing her windpipe.

"I can do this all day," Harumi said. She could, Akita could tell. It hit her then, that Harumi had always been in complete control. While Akita left this place she'd thought was home to carry out Harumi's lies and manipulations and plans, the Quiet One held the puppet strings all the while. Akita thought she'd been in some semblance of control. She'd been wrong. She was never attacking the Conduit for her brother — she was doing it for Harumi. Not out of love, but out of stupidity.

Harumi smirked, like she knew exactly what Akita was thinking. "So, doll. When I say sit…?"

She could make Akita say it. It was well within Harumi's power to simply force Akita to say it through their bond, but she wouldn't. Harumi wanted Akita to say it, she realized. Because that way, it was so much more humiliating. Fucking sadist, Akita thought viciously. She used to think it was funny, how much Harumi enjoyed violence. Now Akita just wanted to show her just how violent dogs could get.

Akita grit her teeth, trying to wait Harumi out. But Harumi knew her better than she knew herself, didn't she? There was no waiting out Harumi. The collar drew blood, and Akita gasped, "I sit!"

Immediately, the collar let up. Akita crumpled, gasping for sweet, cool oxygen between harsh coughs. Harumi grinned viciously at the victory. The collar did not disappear, but Harumi vanished the leash. She cupped Akita's cheeks in her soft palms, so unlike Akita's calloused hands, and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. "Good girl," she murmured into Akita's sweaty hair. "Good dog, very good dog."

Akita bit back a sob. I never should've given her my Name, she thought. Dread climbed up her spine like a spider, slowly entangling her in its web. She'd been trapped in it all this time.

"Now," Harumi whispered. "When I say lay down?"

Akita bit her lip, determined not to let Harumi win again, but the second her collar began to tightened against her throat her resolve disintegrated. She yelped instinctively, far too aware of how far Harumi was willing to go. "I lay down!" She gasped. Her eyes squeezed shut from the shame as she bowed her head, trying to suppress her cries. "I- I lay down."

"Good dog," Harumi murmured. "And if I tell you that you're going to keep lying to the Conduit?"

Akita swallowed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I keep lying to the Conduit," she replied under her breath. Harumi smiled into her hair.

"Exactly." She pulled back, still holding Akita's slack face in her cold hands. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it? You bite who I tell you to bite. You kill who I tell you to kill. Why?"

Harumi was an angel, but Akita was quickly finding that she did not live for Akita's salvation. If Harumi was an angel, then Akita was her sword. Her dog.

"Because I'm-" her voice cracked. Any meager amount of remaining dignity fought the notion of saying such a thing, but Harumi's pointed, threatening look quickly stomped it out. "Because I'm a dog," Akita whispered. "I'm your dog."

The collar loosened entirely. It did not disappear, but it didn't hold snug against her skin either. Still, Akita was far too aware of its presence. It was a message. She wouldn't be surprised if it never went away now.

Harumi stood up, letting go of her. "Good dog," she praised. Akita slumped, a mixture of relief and humiliation coursing through her when Harumi finally stopped touching her. She had craved that touch once.

Harumi turned on her heel, abandoning Akita to the floor. She hummed to herself, leaning against a pew casually. "I hope you understand, now," she said conversationally.

Oh, she understood alright. She understood that she was trapped in hell, and hell was a teenage girl named Harumi Hutchins.

Harumi seemed to think for a moment, something like resignation in her eyes as she watched Akita slowly pick herself up. Her shoulders remained hunched in shame. All she'd done was try to protect Lloyd, and now…

Now things would get so much worse. She thought Lloyd would help all on his own if he knew the truth, but the truth is that Harumi Hutchins is hell on earth, and to be hers is to damned. She doesn't even want to tell Lloyd anymore, not if it means letting Harumi put a collar on him, too.

Harumi scanned her pink nails, gaze darkening. "Damn dog," she muttered, "made me break a nail." Good, Akita thought. Harumi sighed, glancing back up at Akita. "Things are changing, now. For one, you've ruined my fucking night. For another, I clearly can't trust you around the Conduit until you're better trained." Despite herself, Akita felt fear course through her blood at that word. What the hell did somebody like Harumi consider training?

"So," Harumi continued, "I'll be accompanying all your future interactions with the Conduit."

Akita lurched forward, fear for more than herself burning in her chest. "No, you can't-!" She suddenly found that her voice was gone as Harumi shot her an ugly glare.

"You'll find that I can do whatever the fuck I want," she said coldly. Akita's mouth went dry. It was hopeless, she realized, to try to keep Harumi and Lloyd in separate worlds. She'd made it worse. She'd given Harumi cause to not only scheme from a distance, but get up close and personal with Lloyd. She would be there in every class period, every lunch, every fight at night and every sleepover. And Akita would be forced to watch as Lloyd fell for every single sweet lie.

I never should have given her my name. I never should have brought this up. I should've never tried to protect him.

Harumi is not her friend. Harumi does not care. Harumi is evil, and Harumi likes being evil, because she's insane as insane gets and now Lloyd is in even more danger. And it is all Akita's fault.

All Akita can do is bark, and Harumi's bite is so much worse than hers.

Harumi waved her away, apparently disinterested now that she'd gotten her point across. "Go to your crate," she said dismissively. Akita froze.

"Y-you mean my bed?"

Harumi smirked. "No, I mean your crate. That's what you do with a dog — you crate train it. So go to your crate, puppy."

Akita shakily turned to her bed. Harumi had given her a large dog kennel, had said it was a joke, and Akita hadn't minded because it reminded her of the caves she curled up in with her brother when Kataru hibernated. Akita slept in wolf form anyways, slept in Harumi's bed half the time and Lloyd's the other half, and so she'd never even considered what a human might think of when they saw her bed.

Was that the point all along? That she slept in a dog kennel and didn't even care?

The bond isn't tugging in her stomach. The collar isn't glowing or tightening. Harumi wants Akita to do it all on her own.

"Go to your crate, puppy," Harumi repeats sweetly. Akita shakes as she walks, tails between her legs, to the bed- no, the crate. The fucking cage.

She melts into wolf form halfway there, slipping into the open kennel with only a moment's hesitation. She curls up in the corner, tails wrapped around her legs. Harumi smiles, flicking her hand carelessly. The tattered hands of Shades rise from the floor and soundly locked the crate door.

"Good dog," Harumi says. She turns back to her wardrobe. "Now, how should I wear my hair…?"

Akita buried her snout in her tails, not bothering to hold back her tears now. What was it Harumi had said?

"Don't bite the hand that feeds you, mutt."

Akita had tried to bite. And Harumi's bite was so much fucking worse.

#lego ninjago #ninjago #ninjago au #the graveyard shift #my au tag #attack dog au #my au #ninjago fanfiction #ninjago harumi #ninjago akita #is this toxic yuri #does it count #harumi is an awful person sorry #she gets better... eventually #mentioned lloyd #he never gets attention in these excerpts 😭#dead dove do not eat #:D #SoundCloud

11 notes · View notes