#Save a horse ride a bat boy am i right?

[theeveninghour]

All My Dreaming

Summary: You came to the Night Court as a fugitive and quickly became a valued member of the Inner Circle. Azriel’s love for you has burned brightly in his chest for nearly two centuries now, but when an unknown force threatens to take you from him, he must fight to keep you at his side.

Pairing: Azriel x Winter Court!Reader

A/N: I don’t use Y/N here just out of personal preference, but the IC do call reader “Little One” because she’s younger than them by like a century or so. Also, slight timeline deviation? I kind of just made the ACOTAR timeline work for me a little bit but the important bits are there mostly. If it’s not totally accurate, please suspend your disbelief and go with it. I also took some serious liberties with Prythian geography and Azriel’s shadows in this. I had to force myself to stop because I could’ve written five more scenes, so let me know if you all want a part two. I got nasty Azriel thots to spare, baby! 

WC: 16.1k  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TW: 18+, Minors DNI, violence, death, descriptive gore, lots of time jumps, torture, smut, p in v, fingering, porn with plot, mating, slow burn, angst, friends to lovers, declarations of love, loving sexy times, miscommunications abound, Azriel being a big ole softie, Azriel being a big ole bitch to bad men, Azriel really going tf thru it emotionally, and Azriel being mouthy as fuck. Just girly things. 

Part 2

Azriel hadn’t seen you in four days. Nearly a week had passed since you’d left. Rhys mentioned a mission but no additional details, Cassian avoided the topic, knowing how frustrated his brother got when you were gone, and Feyre was decidedly unhelpful the few times he’d brought you up. His shadows searched aimlessly, they’d found nothing as far south as Winter Court, daring not venture into Autumn, and knowing damn well you’d never step foot into Spring. You were slowly driving him mad; the bond in his chest aching at the loss. Even if you hadn’t recognized the golden thread linking the two of you, he felt it. 

Gods, did he feel it. He’d often lay in his bed at night, eyes tracing the intricate foil patterns of the ceiling tiles. When sleep evaded him, as it frequently did, he’d grasp the thread tightly in his minds eye and tug it experimentally, begging you to see, to notice it was him that loved you with a ferocity that rivaled the sun. Try as he might, the responding tug never answered, his call into the void not returning an echo. 

The second it snapped for him, Azriel had resolved himself as unworthy, not of someone like you. You were powerful, breathtakingly beautiful, intimidatingly intelligent, and you regularly brought men to their knees, both in political circles and on the battlefield. Rhys relied on you as much he did Cassian and Az, you were a core member of his court, a valuable asset, and the love of Azriel’s life. Azriel avoided the latter subject entirely, choosing instead to silently stoke the ember in chest with unyielding affection; his own private paramour. 

When you’d joined the Night Court, you’d been on the run from both Winter and Autumn Courts. Your father was a high fae noble in Winter that had attempted to arrange a marriage to the second youngest Vanserra of Autumn. The family’s brutal reputation was legend and you were terrified. You were young then, barely a century old, and upon your introductory visit to the Autumn Court, Beron sought to make an impression by presenting a welcome gift. That gift? The public torture and execution of a servant he’d deemed traitorous. 

His gleaming eyes remained on yours with each cast of the fire whip he’d conjured using his cruel magic. He’d cracked it again and again until blood splattered and the servant was left flayed beyond recognition, flesh searing, and finger tips twitching from the remaining neurons firing in his brain. Only after his death did Beron announce his crimes. He’d stolen a parcel of food from the royal pantry to feed his wife and small child. Your stomach churned at the thought of the now widow and fatherless child waiting at home for the male that would never return. 

It had all been a test to see if you were worthy of the most violent and petulant of the broody sons, and you’d passed, holding Beron’s stare and keeping your back straight as you faced his wrath head on. You’d cried yourself dry in your room that night though, sobs wracking your form until your chest ached, grief for the male that was lost. Fear settled into your heart, terror of the family you were set to marry into. 

You’d ran at first light, leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back. Your Winter white blonde hair streaking across the red and orange forest as you bolted. Beron sent his dogs after you. You still had the scars lining your calves from where they’d gotten too close, brought you down into the dirt, jaws snapping and tearing at the muscly sinew there. But you’d fought. You’d kicked and clawed like a feral child of the woods, screaming with a sense of self preservation you’d never known you possessed. 

Rhysand had found you half dead, starving and a little savage in the mountainous border between the Day and Night Courts. He’d made a bargain with you then; he’d save you, if you worked for him. Word had already spread of the ousted Winter female and spurned Autumn princeling and Rhysand was impressed you’d lasted in the wilds undetected for so long. The small star flecked tattoo of the Velarian night sky that lived on your wrist since was the only evidence of his deal. 

You’d long moved past such a bargain. Rhys had offered to lift it half a dozen times in your first hundred years within his court, but you hadn’t minded. A reminder, you’d insisted, a mark of your loyalty to the family that didn’t lead you the wolves with such glee. 

You’d settled into a routine in Velaris, training with the Illyrian brothers and charming Amren with your intelligence and wit.  But you’d become the closest with Mor, who felt a kinship in your shared traumas. She’d soothed you in those first years, fiercely protecting her friend when Eris Vanserra had shown up in Hewn City as an emissary to inquire on your new position in the Night Court. It was that same night that Azriel realized how fucked he truly was.

Eris smirked at you and your back straightened, face growing cold. He spoke, “My brother was wondering where you’d scampered off to.” A laugh followed, “You couldn’t stomach our court, but found yourself bound to the Court of Nightmares? My my, what a wicked turn of events.” 

Rhysand had spoken then, wearing his High Lord mask well, “Watch yourself, Eris. You know not what our Little One can do.” Eris laughed, the sound laced with the dark spark of a threat. “Little One? Fugitive and Night Court whore, I must tell your father. I’m sure he’ll be proud to hear of his daughter’s fate.” Azriel’s wings pricked, then fluttered, he would’ve killed Eris right then for you. Your hand came to rest on Rhys’ arm as you stepped around the throne to level your accuser with a look that should’ve turned him to stone. 

“I am no male’s whore and I belong to no court except Night. Report what you wish to my father, to your father, your brother. May you all rot.” You’d spat at his feet then, and the room heated twenty degrees, Eris’ barely kept rage simmering under the surface, fire blooming on the fringes of his figure. 

He stepped forward and Cassian, Azriel, and Mor all shifted, prepared to take out the threat. Eris’ eyes tracked their figures, gauging the situation. He knew better. Any attack here would mean war on his court and his father have his hide for that. You stepped forward to meet him, knowing he could make no move without endangering his position. You kept your spine straight and narrowed your gaze at him with such contempt he would’ve been impressed at the show had you been anyone else. 

“I will say this once Eris Vanserra,” you held up one long manicured finger, and Azriel traced the action with thinly veiled obsession. “Leave my court or I will be the one to kill you. I’ll rip your spine from your body and I’ll do it with the same glee in which your father,” you’d spat that word, the hatred you held for Beron burning your throat as the words exited your mouth, “killed that male for feeding his family.” You took a step closer, summoning a dagger in your left hand, and rolling it your palm. “Trust that we have no tolerance for your family or your bullshit in these lands.” 

Eris had good enough sense to step back then, peering around your form to where Rhysand sat, legs spread, slouched in the throne, smirking at your display of dominance. Azriel to his right looked on in pure male satisfaction, you were a powerful little thing and he was rather fond of you in that moment. Eris spoke up, “Should I note that the Night Court threatens other Courts for sport?” Cassian and Azriel rolled their eyes in synchronous fashion, but it was Mor that spoke with the dark edge of a threat, “Only ones that deserve such brutality.” Her father, Kier, stood in the gathered crowd and sneered at the tone of her voice.

You’d done the unthinkable then, winnowing behind Eris, grasping the male by his red hair and dragging the dagger to his neck, digging in enough to cause the male’s heart to speed, a line of scarlet leaking from the press of your blade. You could feel the heat in his skin, the flame licked at your hand as you released him with a shove. 

You brandished your dagger as if it was an extension of your hand, the tip of the silver blade glinting with red from the now healing cut at Eris’ throat. “Come for me again and I’ll kill you.” It was then that Azriel noted the slight tremble in the hand at your right side and he wished on some distant star that he could reach out to you, soothe you, tell you that he was proud and you defended yourself and your court beautifully. 

As if his wish was granted, he felt his chest give way to a canyon of emotion, heart stuttering as the bond fluttered and snapped, thrumming with affection for the female standing at the center of the room. He had selfishly allowed himself to hope it would be you, in the dark of the night when he was alone and his shadows whispered to him of your whereabouts. Since he’d met you, he fostered that small romantic notion of soulmates. His most private desire. 

Eris whirled on you with a roar, grabbing your throat with hands of fire. Azriel felt the breath leave him, and he took two then three steps forward before he could think, hazel eyes alight with a fierceness you’d not yet witnessed. Your eyes found his and you held up your hand to halt his movements, the one that had trembled seconds earlier, now steady as a stone. You’d looked at Eris then, raising your chin defiantly, a slow smile overtaking your face as you once again spit at the Autumn male before winnowing back to your place in front of the dais. Rhysand raised to his feet then, taking steps down to meet you. His hand grazed your arm this time and his mind reached out, “Very good, Little One, very good.” 

“As the lady said, Eris, come to my court in search of her again, and she’ll be the one to kill you.” Rhys circled Eris, tracking like prey. “But not before I sanction it for laying your hands on a member of my house.” Rhysand spoke with such quiet cunning, it was no wonder he excelled as High Lord. Eris snarled then before winnowing out of the Hewn City and Azriel quickly set his shadows to following him, ensuring he was actually gone. 

You returned to Mor’s side and the shameless pride that set on your face the rest of the night made Azriel want to kiss you. Gods, he was fucked.. 

You’d flirted with him constantly in the first century you’d been in Velaris. You had laid it on thick too, dragging a long nail up his arm, your mouth sliding into a smirk after one too many drinks at Rita’s. Azriel had always feigned friendly indifference though, a mask he slipped on that was equal parts protection as it was self soothing. His only crack coming in the form of a slight tremble in his pinky as he tried to gather himself to avoid closing the space between you, touching, grasping, feeling.

He’d worn black leather gloves around you in your first few decades with them. His hands always held the most insecurity for him, the silver scars and warped skin a brutal reminder of his childhood. It was after training one day, as you all packed your small bags and threw towels into bins that you’d asked about it. 

“I don’t mean to pry, and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but why the gloves?” You asked quietly leaning against a wall less than ten feet from him. He’d stiffened and breathed tightly, “it helps with the work.” That had always been his excuse, wearing gloves when killing helped reduce the touch memories associated with the act, and it was partially true. But he wasn’t on a mission right now, and you called him on that, “are you spying right now?” Your lips quirked, “should I tell Rhys?” Your words were mirthful, but your eyes held nothing but empathy for the Shadowsinger, sometimes Azriel wondered if that was your Cauldron blessed gift. 

You’d reached down then, rolling up the left leg of your training leathers. You’d resumed your full height and rotated your calf outward for his eyes to survey the damage there. Ragged silver keloid scars marked the skin from your ankle to the soft back of your knee— a knee he’d admittedly fantasized about many nights in a row now. He’d selfishly thought about trailing kisses up your leg, pausing to nip playfully at the soft skin at your knee as he made his way north, up your thigh. He breathed deeply banishing those thoughts as he took in the site of your marred skin. Judging by the heavily keratinized markings, the injury had no doubt been painful when incurred originally. Azriel’s fingers twitched again, wanting to touch your face, hold you as he kissed away your grief. 

“From Beron’s dogs,” you breathed, rolling you shoulders, as if shaking the memory from your mind. “They wouldn’t heal when I was out there,” you clicked your tongue, “granted I was starving,” you sighed, “but that’s a story for another day.” You looked at him then, and he had to steady himself at the emotions pooling in your eyes. 

He’d already planned on killing Beron if the opportunity presented for what had happened with Mor, but for you, he’d make it hurt. He’d drag it out and make it slow. He’d torture him for days, flaying skin from bone, taking fingers then limbs and when at last he begged for death, Azriel would set the dogs on him and laugh as they tore him apart. He felt a long repressed need for vengeance creep up his spine, and he hated to acknowledge what its presence meant in regards to you.

“It’s okay, you know,” you’d said, head lolling to the side as you watched him, eyes swimming with a gentle affection, “I’ll never judge you for something like that.” Azriel squeezed his eyes shut as he turned his head from you and breathed in tightly. How did always manage to be so fucking disarming and vulnerable? That must’ve been a gift too.

He pinched the middle finger of the right glove and pulled it from his hand, grasping his now exposed fingers into a fist, knuckles cracking. He extended that arm out, palm up as he let you view his deepest insecurity, the thing he hated most in his appearance. 

You’d stepped forward, looking at his palm. Your hands went to reach but you’d paused, looking to his eyes as you silently asked permission to touch. He nodded stiffly, watching you with the same intensity of an animal being hunted, prey ready to bolt at any moment. 

Your fingers touched his hand, and he felt the connection race up his arm and to his chest, settling in his heart. Your eyes studied, and you rotated his hand, fingers gently tracing from his wrist, to knuckle, to fingernail in reverence. You covered his hand with your own, moving your eyes to his hazel ones. “Are they dead?” You’d asked seriously, and he stuttered a shocked laugh. “Yes, Little One, they are,” he answered, a small smile playing at his mouth. The two of you far too similar it seemed. “Good,” you’d said simply before kissing his knuckles and pulling the glove back on for him. The action was quietly intimate, and Azriel should’ve kissed you then. Mother knows he considered it, eyes watching you with rapt attention as his heart sped up and breathing shallowed. 

“If you two are done flirting, lunch is ready,” Cassian announced from the doorway, breaking the spell you were both under. You’d jumped and laughed freely at the large male smirking at the entrance. You grasped Azriel’s hand tightly in affection before releasing it to turn on your heel to exit the room, passing by Cass with an eye roll, thumping him square in the chest.

Cassian looked to his brother as he walked into the room and his face split into a shit eating grin. “Let’s go, loverboy,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Azriel glared, scoffing as he followed behind you, praying to whatever Gods were listening that he’d get you alone again soon. 

In your second century with the Night Court, you’d lessened the blatant flirting and settled into loving, easy friendship. You regularly attended balls and galas in Hewn City, fitting into such pomp with practiced ease, but always with a dagger strapped to your thigh, ready to cut a male down in seconds. Those events were almost routine at this point: Azriel would save you a dance, and you’d move together in a slow ritual that you’d both perfected over the years, he’d bow as the violinist played their final note and resume his place on dais at Rhys’ right. His eyes would follow you the rest of the night, as you spoke in an airy manner to various high fae, glaring at any male whose hands ventured too close to his mate. 

Nights when the Court held parties at the House of Wind were different though. You were far less rigid, finding it easy to exist without scrutiny. Those were the nights Azriel’s eyes rarely left your form as he watched obsessively from the corners of the room. 

“You’re staring,” Rhys chimed from his place next to Azriel, eyes not leaving the crowd as he spoke to the Shadowsinger, mouth smirking. Azriel was staring. You’d worn cobalt blue tonight, a lovely color on your skin. His color on your skin. Mother above, the male possessiveness that crawled up his spine was unreal. Mate, mate, mate, his shadows had sang in his ear. He wanted to pluck the eyes from every male in the room for even glancing in your direction. He wanted so much more than that too. Your breathy sighs as he marked you, your moan as he made you come undone, his name crying from your lips as he ate his come from your cunt after. Azriel had a million and one scenarios running through his head. He yearned to make each one of them come to fruition too.

He hadn’t answered Rhysand, so the High Lord tried again, “you really should tell her, but please,” Rhys closed his eyes with a grimace, “quiet your thoughts first, for Cauldron’s sake.” That got Azriel’s attention, his back straightening and mental shield slamming down. His eyes squeezed shut, almost as if he was in pain. “I cannot burden her with that now,” he said, “not with war at our doorstep.” Indeed, the second war with Hybern creeped ever closer, disappearances of other high fae occurring daily. Whatever they were planning across the sea, it was going to bring Prythian to its knees. 

Rhysand sighed then, feeling older than his 500 years. “Be that as it may, we should hold those we love tighter.” Rhysand looked to Feyre at that moment, his eyes meeting his mate’s, as he sent a strum of warm affection down the bond. She smiled and returned it cheerily. He turned back to Azriel, “if it all ends tomorrow, I know my love and she knows me. That’s all we can ask for in this immortal life.” Azriel looked back to you, and your eyes were already on him, tracing the shadows that wound around his chest. You met his eyes and winked, before turning back to Mor and laughing freely.  

“I thank the Cauldron daily it was you that found her in those mountains, Rhys.” Azriel spoke quietly, admitting a small secret he’d not told anyone. Rhysand softened, and clapped his friend on the shoulder, “As I am, brother.” Azriel nodded, letting the conversation die between himself and the High Lord as he drained the drink in his hand and moved down the steps in your direction. 

You’d been in conversation with Mor when he approached. She was telling you of the seamstress she’d been seeing, and how happy she was. Azriel cleared his throat from behind the two of you and you turned to meet him, taking in his appearance with wide eyes. “Ladies,” he started, bowing to you and Mor, who snorted at the silly formality. “And that note, I’ll be taking my leave. I’ve got a lady to see,” she said with a wink and a flourish of her red dress. You laughed and shook your head before turning back to the Shadowsinger. He’d caught you staring earlier and your heart had nearly jumped into your throat, before Mor mocked you lightly, diffusing the tension. 

“Hi Az,” you greeted softly, before dropping your empty glass on a passing waiter’s tray and thanking them. Azriel watched you closely, noting the revealed skin that shifted with each movement, committing every angle and freckle to memory.

“You want to get out of here?” He dared ask, jerking his head toward the private balcony on the House of Wind. You raised a brow, Azriel? Asking you to leave? Together? You heart was back in your throat and you thanked the Mother that you’d taken your time getting ready that evening. Nodding, you grasped his arm as he offered it to you like a proper courtier. He walked the two of you up a round of stairs and away from the eyes he’d threatened earlier in the night. Voices dulled the more space you put between yourselves and them and you couldn’t help but start to sweat a bit at the thought of being alone with Azriel. 

You’d been friends for nearly two centuries, but you’d always felt a connection with the male. Your heart thrummed with a warm, golden affection when he got close. It made keeping a clear head during training hard. It made sitting next to him at dinner difficult. And when he’d looked at you like you hung the moon as you danced earlier in the night, it made you want to take him to bed and ride him until he moaned your name. You breathed deeply. ‘Focus,’ you chided yourself, ‘he is your friend, for Cauldron’s sake.’

He led you out onto to the balcony and stopped at the railing before looking up at the star flecked sky. “This is my favorite part of the House,” he said eyes scanning the sky before looking back to you as you watched him. A blush crept up his neck, before he cleared his throat again. 

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to be able to fly, you know,” you said quietly, removing your hand from his arm, rolling up onto your toes, leaning against the stone railing, and looking out on Velaris before scanning your eyes up to the three stars that shone brightly overhead. “When I was a child, I met a Peregryn from the Dawn Court and thought she had the most beautiful wings I’d ever seen.” You chanced a glance his way, “I’d not met an Illyrian yet.” You reminded with a smirk, bumping his arm with fondness. Gods, he was in trouble.

“I asked her what it was like and she said it was the purest sense of freedom possible.” You glanced down at your feet, “I spent the next year wishing for wings.”  He mulled on your words. He wanted to say something cheesy as Cassian would, like ‘I’ll be your wings’ but he couldn’t, so you continued on. 

“When I was a little older, I witnessed a blue skinned lesser fae’s wings ripped from his body as punishment and it was the most gruesome thing I’d seen at that point.” You took a shuddering breath, “I cried for him that night. The lost freedom. How maddening it must’ve been.” You looked at him then and he watched you with furrowed brows. “How does it feel for you?” You asked softly, eyes tracing the shine of his wing. ‘Magnificent things,’ you thought. You remembered seeing his wings for the first time and thinking the Peregryn had finally moved to second place in your mind. 

Azriel had to gather himself as he spoke, “It’s… everything.” He said quietly adjusting his body to extend a wing. “My ability to fly came in late,” he said, and your eyes widened, you hadn’t known that. “My childhood was… rough and I didn’t learn to fly until I was nearly grown.” He laughed, scuffing the toe of his boot, wings folding in behind him. “It was a lot of crash landings those first months.” You snorted, mental image of a younger Az, landing in a puddle of mud crossing your mind. 

“I was never a proud Illyrian, not like the others,” he continued, “it was hard for me to reconcile my heritage and our traditions.” He looked to the cityscape then, “but the stronger I got, the more I understood why flight was so crucial to my people.” He looked to you, eyes shining, “it’s the closest we can get to the stars.” 

You leaned over the railing again, staring wistfully at the night sky, the moon reflecting on your skin. “Will you take me someday? Flying, I mean.” Did you not know Azriel would give you the world? Of course he’d take you flying. He’d give you the moon, the stars, walk through fire and back, anything. He nodded, “you say the word, and I’ll fly you the the ocean and back.” The smile that broke across your face crippled him, his knees threatened to give way. 

“Yours are my favorite,” you murmured softly, eyes glancing from his wings to his face. Azriel blushed in full, pink speckling his neck and cheeks as he laughed. “Don’t let Cass hear you say that, he’s got an ego,” he said, a smile remaining at his lips. You liked him like this the most. Loose, smiling, free. You reached up then, cupping his reddened cheek, thumb stroking. “I don’t care,” you said smiling, “it’s the truth.” Azriel swallowed roughly, staring at your eyes swimming with an emotion he knew, but was much too stubborn and scared to name.

Just as your hand went to retreat, he grasped it between his own. “You can touch them,” he offered, knowing damn well the implications, “if you want,” he added. Your eyes widened. Mor had mentioned once that Illyrian’s wings were ‘sensitive,’ was the word she’d used. It was a sign of great intimacy and trust to allow another to touch them. You felt the air shift between you two then, as you nodded.

He extended a wing toward you. This felt so much like the first time he’d shown you his hands all those years ago. Your hand crept forward and gentle fingers met the red gold membrane that stretched between two metacarpals. Your fingers traced the membrane in smooth circles, then traced up to the crest. Azriel felt his breath gutter out of his mouth in a loud, choppy exhale, and he felt himself harden at the sensation of your fingers against the most sensitive portion of his wings. You gasped and jerked away at the sudden noise, before apologizing. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten carried away.” 

Azriel shook his head, “It’s not that, they’re sensitive.” There was that word again, only it made you think of how they’d been shredded before the King of Hybern, and you opened your mouth to apologize again, but he stopped you short. “I haven’t allowed another to touch them freely since my mother.” The admission floored you, your gut giving way with a breath.

You looked to his eyes then, the air between you had shifted again and you knew this was it. This was the moment you’d waited for, he was going to kiss you. Mother, it felt you’d waited a millennia, and he felt just the same. But that kiss never came. Instead, Azriel went stock still, his eyes now on the House behind you. 

“Azriel?” You questioned. “It’s Rhys,” he said tightly, “he’s summoning me.” You understood then. He looked to you desperately, eyes a little wild and apologetic. “I’m sorry, I have to go to him.” You nodded, you both worked for the High Lord, you’d never get in the way of Azriel’s allegiance to his Court. “Of course,” you said quietly, taking a step back and swallowing down your disappointment. 

Azriel took three steps towards the entrance then stopped. “I’ll take you,” he turned around, backing his way to the arched stone, but keeping his eyes on you for a moment longer. “When I get back, I’ll take you flying,” he offered. Another smile etched its way across your face and Azriel took a long moment to memorize it greedily. “It’s a date,” you said confidently. He beamed then, turning on a heel to pick up into a jog, Rhys no doubt shouting to hurry up. 

That date hadn’t happened though. The second war with Hybern broke out days later and you both barely made it out alive. 

When Feyre had come to Velaris after Amarantha’s defeat, you’d accepted her with easy friendship. You saw Rhysand, your longtime friend, overcome with love for his newly found mate, and you couldn’t help but love her as well. You’d shared your story with her and the two of you bonded deeply over her art. She’d offered to teach you to paint, and you began taking lessons in your off time. Rhys had been Cauldron blessed with her and you reminded him daily. 

Later, when Feyre’s sisters joined their little unit, you’d been the first one to break Nesta’s tough exterior. The female saw parts of herself in you and you’d gotten her to crack a smile when you mocked Rhys’ High Lord voice at dinner one night. Elain had been a tougher sell, but you’d tried, along with Azriel, to bring the female out of her shell. The day she joined you in the library to read, you knew progress had been made, even if you two had only sat in silence a few feet apart, a small smile gracing her features. 

You left her book recommendations with small notes and she began to do the same. Your friendship playing out in the margins of the library’s tomes. You won her over with silent conversation. Nesta noticed, of course, and she looked to you with gratitude as she saw her sister’s eyes brightened and skin began to return to its normal, healthy color. The night Azriel mentioned it as you walked down the hall toward the dining room for the family meal, you’d shrugged. “I met her where she needed me to,” you’d said quietly, glancing to your feet. Azriel smiled, a Cauldron blessed gift indeed. 

Dinners at the House of Wind were by far Azriel’s favorite version of you. You’d laugh with abandon, smile splitting your face, showing every tooth as Mor cracked a joke and leaned against you for support, one too many drinks in her system. The first time he’d seen that smile, it blinded him, and he’d gone a little dazed, staring at you in wonderment. Rhys had interrupted his train of thought with an invasive insertion of “How quickly she reduced you to a puddle, brother.” Azriel had scowled at Rhys then, mental shields firming up, but not before he heard the distinct sound of his High Lord laughing at the Spymaster’s defensiveness. 

Indeed Azriel was gone for you. When Cassian finally confronted him last year about the truth of his feelings, Azriel saw no point to avoid it any longer, not after his brothers had also found their mates. “Our souls are one in the same, she’s my mate,” he’d said pensively, as if he was letting his deepest secret breath in the light for the first time in centuries. Maybe he was. He’d made Cassian promise on his life not to tell anyone, and despite being the biggest gossip in the Inner Circle, he kept his promise. He was thrilled for his brother, knowing you were the perfect match.

Little did Azriel know, everyone else was already more than aware of his affections. Amren had figured it out a century prior when Azriel had tended your needs as you’d recovered from an injury sustained during a mission. He’d fretted around you like a mother hen, buying you flowers, sweets, and books while you were bedridden. The female had watched and hummed with a raised eyebrow as Azriel exited your room for the fifth time in one day, wringing his hands with worry despite Madja’s clean bill of health.

Feyre had figured it out the same year she’d returned from the Spring Court, just before the second war with Hybern. She’d seen the way his eyes had followed you in the war room Rhys had created to host strategy meetings. Saw him lean towards you when you spoke, saw his wings flutter when you finally cast your gaze to him, eager for your attention. More than anything, she’d seen his shadows, desperate little things, sneaking across the floor each night, sidling up your ankles and wrists, begging for your affection. You always laughed and nuzzled them as the wound their way to your hair and Azriel went a little soft at the sight. 

When she told Mor, the blonde had laughed, “They’ve been circling each for two hundred years now, eventually one of them will cave.” Mor leveled a sardonic look at Feyre then, “and when they do, we’ll all have to relocate to the River House for a year lest we be subject to the frenzy.”

This mission should’ve been simple. Rhys had asked you to check out reports of rogue soldiers spotted making their way towards the border of the Night Court from the Day coastline. The intel he’d received had mentioned three to four maximum, all of them drunken ex-Hybern loyalists. It should’ve been a matter of locating them, spying for a day or two, then winnowing in to neutralize any threat. Gods, this was far from simple. 

When you’d arrived in the region, the hairs on your neck rose, the air itself feeling off. As you tracked them, you’d noticed intentional attempts to throw you off course. A carelessly trashed map, crudely laid tracks in the opposite direction, Dawn Court wine bottles that had been emptied and tossed about. They knew you were there, and you quickly realized that a trap had been laid. You backed off them then, staying further than you’d have liked, but trying like hell to make them think you’d given up. 

On your fourth night following them, you’d drifted away to an inn two towns over, desperately seeking a place to bathe and rest, even for a few hours. As you bathed, you felt watched in a way that discomfited you to your core, and your dagger stayed within arms reach the rest of the night. Suddenly, the role you’d played for the last two hundred years had left you entirely ill equipped for whatever was happening here. 

You’d left out before dawn, refusing to lose an ounce of daylight, but as you hit the tree line, readying yourself to winnow out, you’d noticed it. Hanging from a tree, a hundred yards away was a piece of clothing, your clothing. Clothing that should’ve been in the pack at your back. Your breath shuttered out of you as you opened your mind to Rhys, asking for back up. You were in over your head and you knew when to admit it. There was no pride in getting yourself killed. 

As you turned to move back to the inn where you could wait out contact from Rhys in a public location, you were met with a pair of shining blue eyes. You stepped back, keeping your grounding, readying for a fight. “You’ve been following us,” the stranger said calmly, beginning to trek in a slow circle around you. You opened your mind to Rhys again, “Help,” you called. Rhys answered this time, “Where are you?!” It was a frantic response, you never asked for help, Rhys knew this. “Just off the coast, beneath the mountain range, Day court border, 400 hundred paces from the inn” you spoke to Rhys in choppy thoughts, trying to establish a location before all hell broke loose. 

“I have,” you finally answered the stranger, whose lips quirked at your voice. He stopped circling and resumed his stance in front of you, blocking passage to the inn. “Why?” He asked and you tried to keep your mind steady as you answered. “You’re trespassers in these lands” you stated simply, shrugging a shoulder up. He grinned then, “had your lot not gotten in the way of our King’s plans, these would be our lands. We were promised them. I was personally promised the Court of Nightmares.”

“Well,” you shrugged feigning indifference, “that’s not how the war played out, so I will have to ask you to leave,” you offered in your most bored political tone. The same tone you’d used with High Fae that ran off at the mouth in Hewn City. The stranger cocked his head the side then, eyes twinkling, “I don’t think I will.” At that moment, one by one, additional soldiers appeared from the forest line. One, then four, then ten, until near twenty stood around you, looking on with hatred. 

Shit. 

“We’d hoped for the Illyrians, but it seems your High Lord sent us a treat instead,” the stranger said with mirth. You steeled your spine, looking down your nose at the stranger, “They’re going to kill you, you know.” He’d laughed at your threat. “I think not,” he said as as arrow was released from your left, finding purchase in your shoulder. You folded over on yourself at the blow, and looked up baring your teeth, before drawing your dagger and rushing the stranger with a feral sound.

Five more arrows hit you before your blade could find its target. One into your hip, two in your back, a fourth piercing your in your upper thigh, until the last burrowed into the back of your knee, bringing you down in front of him — forcing you to bow to the stranger. The arrows were laced with faebane you realized as you’d begun to feel its effects in your blood. Your power waning quickly, thoughts becoming murky. 

You released another shattered thought to Rhys then, “Tell him, please,” you begged raggedly. Rhysand came back with a rushed and tight, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” You shook your head, there wasn’t time. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” He responded but it muddled out, sounding like words shouted through a pool of water, then your brain fell quiet. The line severed. 

The stranger lifted your head, hand wrapped around your throat, as he bent to meet your crouched form. “I’ll be sure to savor this,” he smiled and the hilt of his sword came in fierce contact with your forehead. 

It was the early morning on your fifth day away when Rhys heard you. “Help,” it had come through so clearly that it startled Rhys awake and set his heart to racing. You’d only asked for help once, during the war when you were overrun and near death. You were in danger.

He’d sat up straight in bed, Feyre still sleeping silently at his side, hand resting on her pregnant stomach. “Where are you?!” He’d asked down the line, a little frantic, remembering the state he and Azriel had found you in last time. Gods, you’d been run through on a Hybern soldier’s sword, the damage was astronomical. Azriel had nearly killed everyone within a mile radius at the sight of you.

You recited your location in short bursts and Rhys focused on the bond of your bargain, using it to locate you with more precision. He reached out to Azriel then, “Get Cassian and meet me downstairs. Be ready to fly.” Azriel responded an affirmative and Rhys rushed around his room, grabbing his dagger lined belt, and using his magic to dress in his leathers quickly. He winnowed to the base of the stairs and was glad to find Cassian and Azriel waiting. 

“Tell him, please” you begged into Rhys’ mind then, words growing ragged. Rhys’ eyes slammed shut with a wince and he attempted to reassure you, “Hold on, Little One, we’re coming.” Rhys opened his eyes and looked to Azriel, who was watching him with anticipation. You responded again, words growing murkier, a little warbled. “Tell Azriel I love him if I don’t make it, Rhys, promise me.” Rhysand felt sick. “We will find you and you will tell him yourself,” he spoke but the bond was dead, silent, foreboding. Rhys thought he might vomit. 

He looked to Azriel again, “It’s her. She’s in trouble. We have to go.” Azriel’s face darkened with a thunderous ferocity. Mother help the males who’d harmed you. “Where?” He asked, voice deep with the threat of murderous violence. “The wilds on the border, off the coast of Day. I’ll winnow us as close as possible.” Azriel nodded his acquiesce and lifted a trembling hand to his hair, running scarred fingers through the strands. Cassian spoke then, “we will get her back,” he’d said softly as Rhysand put his hands to the two of them, preparing for the jump. “And we will kill every last one of them,” Cassian added darkly as blue-black shadows encased them and they disappeared. 

You awoke with a start, gasping like you’d been underwater. Your shoulders ached from your position. You pulled on your hands only to realize you were shackled to a tree somewhere deep in the forest, the same forest you’d been on the outskirts of earlier. You looked up to the sky, trying to find the sun to gauge how much time had passed. The sun had long moved past midday and was sinking towards the evening horizon. Your throat tightened. Where was Rhysand? 

“Nice of you to join us,” a voice spoke. It was the stranger again, he emerged from the camp set two hundred paces to your left, hidden by shrubs and underbrush. You got a good look at him this time. He was tall, leanly muscular in a way that reminded you of Lucien Vanserra. His hair was a dishwater blonde and lacked any sheen, falling in choppy dry waves around his shoulders. His face was gaunt, eyes sunken, bruised with a lack of rest, and his cheekbones were sharp, giving his face an angle that made him look harsh and unforgiving. Though he carried himself with confidence, you noticed a slight, barely there limp in his right leg, an old wound perhaps, one that never healed correctly. You noted that for later, if you ever got out of these shackles. 

You leveled a glare at him that you hoped looked more fearsome than you felt. Mother, your bones ached and your wounds throbbed. “I left the arrows in, but broke off the shaft. Didn’t want to have you healing too quickly.” He spoke with nonchalance, while polishing a dagger, your dagger, you realized as your eyes focused. You pulled at the shackles above your head, and the stranger chuckled at your attempt. 

“What do you want?” Your voice croaked, mouth dry from disuse. The stranger laughed, pointing the blade at you, “I want my fucking court and you’re the key to getting it.” You shook your head then, “I am nothing.” The words sounded foreign on your tongue, a lie on some level, you knew this, but you would be damned before you gave up your family. The stranger clicked his tongue at your response, shaking his head. 

“Surely you don’t believe that? The High Lord doesn’t trust easily, you’ve been seen with his entourage. The Shadowsinger’s whore.” He squatted a few feet from you, eyes tracing from your tied hands down to your face, pausing at your breasts, before trekking down your stomach, thighs, and calves. He was sizing up how much fight you had left.

Your brain had short circuited though, the Shadowsinger’s whore. Mother above, you’d never even kissed. How long had this male watched you and your family? How had none of you seen it? A bitter laugh wretched from your lungs, “sorry to disappoint, but the Shadowsinger isn’t mine.” No matter how desperately I’ve wished it so, you added silently. 

The stranger grinned then, “if you are truly nothing, then I’ll make this a little sweeter.” He took steps towards you, raising the dagger to rest at your chin, the blade pressing to the underside painfully. “You’re far too pretty to be nothing.” He ran the blade along the column of your throat, resting it against your sternum, between your breasts. You pushed yourself further into the tree, back protesting as the arrows burrowed deeper with the movement. You didn’t like the new angle this interaction had taken and your fight or flight instincts were screaming. 

You attempted to reach out to Rhysand, but the bond was dead silent. Your breathing hitched at the realization that you were truly alone in this. The stranger chuckled, dragging the blade down your chest, slicing the leathers, letting the fabric fall open and reveal your undergarments to his greedy view. Your legs moved to kick, but you realized quickly they too were tied. The blade came to rest at your bare stomach, and the stranger dug it in below the navel, causing blood to pool there. You winced, but made no sound. 

“Ah, I was hoping you’d be louder than that,” the stranger smirked, “I’ll have to try harder.” He backed up then and pulled a whip from his back pocket, unfurling it with a crack. Your eyes widened and you brain went silent, fear overtaking your senses. “There it is,” his smile gleamed with violent delight, “there’s the reaction I was hoping for.” He reared an arm back before cracking the whip in your direction. The leather made contact with your torso, a stinging slice appearing along your rib cage. You jerked, but bit your tongue.

He cracked it again and again until you were bloody, slices in your leathers, festering wounds along your breasts, ribs, and stomach. You’d counted to 25 lashes before your brain gave out and your vision blurred from the pain. You looked up to the sky wearily. The sun was gone and the stars were slowly appearing. You smiled at them, remembering Azriel’s words from that night all those years ago. 

You hoped he’d forgive you for not telling him. You hoped he’d understand your fear in revealing that secret, that the bond had snapped for you during the war. When that Hybern soldier’s sword pierced your armor, running through your body to the hilt, and he’d let out a fearsome bellow from across the field at the sight. You felt it then, the golden strumming taking the form of a fated thread linking you two. You been near death when he and Rhys had found you and the only thing you could do was smile. Such an ironic thing it was to die in the arms of your mate. 

Your head lolled to the side as exhaustion threatened to overtake you. “Azriel,” your thoughts ventured, calling down the bond he didn’t even know existed, “I love you.” Darkness swam in the corners of your vision but you swore you felt his responding tug. The Mother was kind for granting that hallucinative mercy in your final hours. Your body gave out, slumping against the shackles and darkness overwhelmed you. 

Azriel was furious. No, furious wasn’t the word, he was a walking time bomb. You were gone. His mate was missing and he was going to explode. As he’d arrived with Rhys and Cassian to the location you’d given them, he could smell you. His eyes searched frantically around the scene before him until they zeroed in on an item hanging from a branch a few dozen paces out. Cloth of some sort? He approached and could detect your scent on it, realizing quickly it was your clothing. A ripped cotton blouse. His fists clenched and he vaguely heard Rhysand speaking to his left. “They must’ve captured her here.” Rhys crouched down to the ground, two fingers swiping the dirt there, before bringing them eye level to examine sample. “Blood,” he muttered, rubbing the hand on the leg of his pants, “she was injured.” Azriel’s heart thundered, he was going to fucking explode. 

He set his shadows work, surveying the forest with rapid precision. They’d cover more ground this way, an army of three operating like a whole infantry. By the time the sun rose to midday, Azriel was ready to begin screaming. They trekked further into the forest, following a line of smoke that was miles deep, originating at a camp somewhere far into the wilds. His shadows murmured to him of a small band of males there, of you, shackled to a fucking tree, arrows buried in your back. He’d nearly lost the contents of his stomach at the information and set to a run alongside Rhysand and Cassian. 

As the three approached the encampment, the sun was nearing dusk. Rhysand had commanded the halt and strategize. There were roughly twenty-five men, all armed. They couldn’t enter this blindly and infuriated, they would lose if they weren’t careful. Azriel hated admitting he was right, his instincts screaming otherwise. Mate, mate, mate, his heart pounded. 

They backed off to a thousand paces out, close enough that they could hear if the troop vacated the premises. As Rhysand and Cassian spoke quietly, Azriel felt his heart thrum. The golden thread there had pulled him closer to you and he could tell you were still alive. Though Rhys couldn’t reach out through your bargain, Azriel’s bond was still alight and warm, he stroked it with gentle affection. You might not feel it, but Gods he would try. 

As the trio retraced their steps to the camp, stars were just beginning to light overhead and Azriel grasped his daggers tightly, knuckles cracking around the hilt. He was going to kill them. Kill them all brutally for taking you, for touching what was his. When they were within a stones throw from the camp he heard it, heard you. “Azriel,” you whispered into his mind. He went stock still, spine ramrod straight, fingers trembling as they gripped his knives. The golden bond vibrated in his chest, and he felt you reaching out through murky waters, against all odds. “I love you,” you said with a soft exhaustion before your side went dark. Azriel’s breathing guttered and he felt high on mirthroot, sick from fae wine, and enraged to the point of explosion all at once. His blue siphons flared brightly from the surge of power. He closed his eyes and reached out to you through the bond, tugging on the thread connecting your souls. He was coming. He was going to save you. 

Rhysand looked to him then, curiosity swimming in his eyes as he took in the Shadowsinger’s sudden stop. Azriel opened eyes, irises alight with fire and shadow, voice grinding with dark threat, “Let’s go.” Rhys nodded and Cassian drew his knives. 

They moved with brutal efficiency, killing male after male until none remained alive. Some had begged, others shouted and scattered their belongings as they set into a run. His shadows had caught them, twisting around their ankles and dragging them back to meet their fate, daggers slicing throats from ear to ear until blood poured like a prized hunt being slaughtered, the Illryian’s hands grasping and snapping necks like twigs. It was a practiced routine for the three of them, who’d trained since they were teens. 

As they stepped through the shrubs to find you, Cassian gasped and Azriel felt his lungs threaten to collapse at the sight. You’d been shackled to a tree at the wrists and ankles and whipped within an inch your life. Wounds glistened with blood along your thighs, soft stomach, ribs, breasts. There had to be thirty lashes. A knife wound was visible at your exposed navel. Your head hung forward unconscious and Azriel’s heart pounded. He wanted to vomit and his hands shook. 

“She said you’d come,” a voice said, emerging from behind the tree you were bound to. The male held a dagger to your throat. This new stranger had to be the leader of this band of idiots. Azriel’s eyes followed the tip of the blade up his arm to the male’s eyes and a growl escaped him as he bared his teeth. The male laughed, “to think she said she was nothing and yet I have both the Shadowsinger and the Lord of Bloodshed before me to save her.”

Azriel’s mind latched on to that piece of information, turning it over in his head. You’d told this male you were nothing? Did you not know Azriel would do anything for you? You were everything. You were his love, light of his life, keeper of his soul, his mate. How alone you must’ve felt, how scared. Azriel’s eyes narrowed, he was going kill him. 

Rhysand spoke then, emerging from behind the two Illyrian brothers, “And may I ask why you’ve abducted a member of my court?” He was in High Lord mode, tone bored, fingers picking at his sleeve. The Hybern male’s smile gleamed at the introduction, “just who I was hoping to see!” 

“Hybern, the old fool, made a few promises in his last days as King,” the male spoke, digging the blade down to your chest, where it rested over your heart. Azriel stared at the blade, eyes tracing to the the hilt. That was your blade, the one he’d given you when you first arrived in Velaris, the one you wielded against Eris, the one you kept strapped to your thigh. Your own knife had been used against you.

“One of which was that I would inherit these lands after your lot were annihilated.” Azriel wanted to laugh at the male’s words, was he serious? “A dead king cannot honor empty promises,” he ground out eyes shifting to the male’s blue eyes. “A dead and headless king cannot gift you shit,” Azriel spat. The male smiled then, a feline grin growing on his lips. “Precisely Shadowsinger, a dead king cannot give me my due, but this little thing can help.” You’d made a noise then, something akin to a whimper as you came to. Eyes wincing then fluttering open as your irises found Azriel’s immediately, some preternatural magnetism existing between the two of you. Then you looked to Cassian and Rhysand, and your eyes swam with apology.

“She awakens!” The male sang, looking to you. Azriel jumped at the opportunity to send his shadows out while the male’s attention was elsewhere. They traced over the ground to you, circling the tree and working at your binds. He sent two others towards the distracted male. “Who knew the Night Court was so attached to a whore,” the male laughed, “I want my lands,” he fixed Rhysand with a glare, “you can have your plaything back in exchange for my seat, High Lord” he sneered. 

Rhysand looked from you to the stranger to the shadow now creeping ever closer to the male. “You must be mistaken,” Rhys said then and Azriel’s shadows wrapped around the male’s neck and wrist simultaneously, whispering violence for touching their mate, forcing the dagger from his grasp and air from his lungs. Azriel tightened them until they heard bones crack in the male’s arm and choked sounds exit his throat, face reddening as oxygen was cut off. “I do not make deals with dim witted cunts,” Rhysand said darkness beginning to surround him, High Lord voice encroaching, “I do not entertain terrorists and I do not take kindly to threats on my family.” 

‘Finish him,’ Rhysand said darkly into Azriel’s mind and the Shadowsinger moved with lightening precision, dagger find purchase as the male’s neck was sliced open and his right hand was removed from his body. The male’s body toddled forward with a choked gurgling, before falling to the ground, lifeless, blood pooling.

Azriel’s gaze fell to you and he softened. His shadows finished picking the lock of the shackles that held your arms and they clicked open, allowing your body to fall into his. “Azriel,” you breathed, voice weary with exhaustion, “I didn’t— I—“ you stuttered, pulling a shaking hand to his face. You swallowed, tracing his cheek with trembling fingers, “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” you murmured, your watery eyes searching his face, memorizing the details of his visage.

Azriel picked you up in his arms and unfurled his wings protectively. “I will always come for you,” he said vehemently, eyes watching your face with intensity. You smiled, a weepy trembling smile as you nodded. Rhysand reached the Shadowsinger’s side then and your eyes moved to his violet ones, “Hi Little One, I’m so sorry we’re late.” You let out a single watery laugh before wincing as the sudden expansion of your chest burned the wounds littering your chest and back. 

“The arrows,” you gasped, “at my back,” you twisted in Azriel’s hold, “please get them out.” Rhysand leaned down to inspect the wounds. “Faebane,” he surmised, that’s why his connection to you had been severed. “We need to get her to Madja, now.” Azriel nodded, allowing Rhys and Cassian to move closer so the High Lord could winnow them home. 

Landing back at the House of Wind had been chaotic. Rhysand shouted immediately to get every healer available and the dining room table had been lined with a sheet, turning the warm family room into a medical ward. You were laid facedown on the table and Azriel took to your side, scarred hands touching your face, keeping you awake as Madja worked to remove the six arrows burrowed in your body. 

You’d screamed. The sound would haunt Azriel for centuries. You begged to make it stop and Madja had apologized softly as she worked faster to remove them while minimizing damage. “I’ve got you,” Azriel said softly, “eyes on me, alright?” He rubbed the hollow under your eye with a scarred thumb and you opened your eyes to lock on his. “No gloves,” you said, smiling tightly, before wincing as Madja applied local anesthetic to an arrow wound. Azriel smiled, eyes a little watery. “Not with you,” he whispered shaking his head, “never with you.” You smiled at him and the sight set Azriel’s heart to fluttering.

Later, after the arrows had been removed and wounds bandaged, you’d been given a strong herb tonic for pain that set your head swimming as exhaustion overtook you. Azriel carried you his room, laying you gently onto the mattress and covered you with the duvet. He leaned down then, breathing in your scent as he placed a kiss to your forehead, nuzzling his nose to the Winter white hair there. He would tell you. When you awoke, he would bare his soul to you. 

You woke with a groan. Fucking Gods, your body ached with the effort it took to roll over. “Easy,” a voice came from the corner of the room. Your breath gasped out of you as your eyes raced to the figure there. “Azriel,” you breathed. The male smiled warmly at you and stepped forward to rest at the edge of the mattress. You pushed up in the bed, the wound at your shoulder screaming from the exertion. Once in a sitting position, you rested your back on the headboard as you looked at him. “For taking out a small militia, you seemed to be decently uninjured,” you said smiling tightly, memories of the stranger and his whip haunting your mind. He snorted a small laugh, “Yes well,” he looked down then, thumbs fiddling with each other, chest heating, “I had something worth fighting for.” 

He looked back to you and your cheeks had grown pink, a small pleased smile at your lips. “I heard you, you know,” he said softly, turning enough to rest a hand on your thigh, thumb drawing small, soothing circles there. The heat generated in the touch sent a spark to your belly. Oh, you were fucked. “I heard you in my head, through the bond,” he said eyes watching his thumb as it traced on your bare skin hypnotically. 

“You know then?” You whispered, breath skittering out of you. You were scared to death of the trajectory the conversation was taking, your heart preparing for the best and the worst simultaneously. Azriel’s eyes dragged up your form to your face and a smile broke over his lips, one that caused your heart to ignite. Your Mother had once told you the heart was an organ of fire and you’d laughed, never having cause to believe such a statement. You understood now. 

“I—“ Azriel started, before clearing his throat, turning his body to face you in full, a knee pulled up on the mattress, touching yours. “In the whole time I have known you— two centuries, Little One,” he looked at you pointedly, “you have been my dearest friend, my greatest comfort, my confidant, and the person I admire most in this Gods forsaken world.” He breathed deeply, a whoosh exiting his lips as his hand tightened around your thigh. “The times when you were lost to me have been some of the most painful moments I’ve experienced.” 

Your eyes began to water, and you moved a hand to rest atop his own, thumb circling the scarred skin at his wrist. He took a breath then and the air shifted between you, his mouth opening and closing, as if he was gathering his confidence for what he was about to say next. “I have loved for you so long that I’d given up all hope of reciprocation.” The words shattered through you as all air escaped your lungs, guts swooping down as heat alighted there. “I felt the bond the night Eris came for you,” he continued, eyes watching your entwined hands. Your body went still and a startled laugh exited your mouth. Azriel’s eyes flew to yours questioningly. 

“Sorry,” you chuckled again, “I’m just realizing how fucking stupid we’ve been.” You lolled your to the side, watching him with loving eyes. “I’ve been in love with you for almost two centuries, Azriel,” you smiled, “I thought you wouldn’t want me.” Azriel’s eyes widened, his mouth opening and closing in disbelief, two then three times. You thought for a second to compare him to the guppy fish that swam in schools along the banks of the Sidra but refrained. 

He pushed forward then, hands coming to cup your face, pinky and ring fingers resting in the hollow below your ear, thumbs stroking your cheeks. “How could I not? You’re everything,” he whispered, searching your face, conviction showing in his eyes. You couldn’t stop the smile that overtook your mouth as you spoke, “and you’re my mate.” His eyes moved to your lips, glazing before they moved back to your eyes. “As you are mine,” he spoke confidently. 

Your eyes watched each other for a long second, “I really hope you’ll kiss me this time,” your hand trailed up his arm, fingers teasing. “Mother knows I’ve been dreaming of it for far too long.” He surged forward, lips meeting yours and you thought you might float away. You gasped and his tongue moved in, claiming your mouth, your taste with his own. 

He pulled away minutes later, a little breathless, “Sorry to have kept you waiting, my love,” he spoke, resting his forehead to yours with a smile, watching your dazed expression, pink cheeks, as your lips split into a grin. Your hand moved to the front of his button down, fisting in the material there, giving an experimental tug. “Kiss me like that again and I’ll consider forgiving you.” 

The laugh that came out of him was golden, and you pushed yourself to memorize it. Azriel, Lord of Shadows, Spymaster for the Night Court, Rhysand’s right hand and Illyrian warrior was soft for you. He loved you. He was your mate. You’d be giddy about it for the rest of your life. 

Your healing had been slower than you would’ve liked. The faebane had done serious damage but with Madja’s help, the scarring was minimized. The lashes at your front took two weeks to heal, the arrow wounds took three. Three fucking weeks. Meanwhile all you could think about was your mate. He hadn’t left your side in the interim. Helping you take steps, applying the wound creams that Madja had left in small glass pots, keeping you fed, making you laugh, telling you how much he loved you daily. Mother above, you were going to ruin this male. 

You walked into the kitchen at the end of week three, the only evidence of your wounds now in the slight limp of your right leg and twinge in your left shoulder. The marks at your stomach and chest had diminished into barely there, silver scores. Cassian was sitting at the small table in the corner as you entered. “Hi Cass,” you greeted, “seen my mate around this morning?” It was fun calling him that, a small part of your chest swelling with pride each time. 

Cassian smirked, “He’s been…… out.” Your eyes narrowed, he was being evasive. “Out where?” You asked, grabbing an apple and hopping up on the counter to watch the male. He shrugged, “No idea, Little One.” You smirked, “I know where you sleep Cassian,” you started, “is it really wise to lie to me?” Nesta strode into the kitchen, “What’s he done now?” She asked laughing. “Hey! I’ll have you know I’ve done nothing!” The male exclaimed, “She’s interrogating me on the whereabouts of her maaate.” He dragged out the vowel of the last word mockingly. Nesta took her seat next to Cassian and laughed, “Ah, him.” She looked to you then, “he’ll be around to collect you soon.” 

You looked between the two, suspicion dripping from your features as you took another bite from the apple in your palm. “You two are being weird,” you stated. Nesta shrugged, nudging Cassian who smiled at her. “Just wait,” she said softly, “maybe cook yourself a meal.” Cassian’s mouth quirked with a laugh he restrained. “Right, I’m leaving, cause whatever this is,” you waved a hand at them, “is deeply odd.” You hopped off the counter and strolled to the exit.  You heard them laughing softly once you were out of the room, making you roll your eyes at their antics.

You’d gone to the library after leaving the kitchen and found Elain already there. Her eyes moved to you upon your entrance and she closed her book, middle finger marking her spot. “How are you feeling?” She asked softly, eyes surveying your body for lingering damage. You sighed, falling into the sofa across from her. “I’m better,” you said quietly, “the pain is gone, scars are minimal.” You turned your eyes to her, she looked brighter than the last time you’d seen her. “How are you?” You asked in return. She smiled sweetly. “Better,” she echoed you and you wanted to laugh. “I’ve been exchanging letters with Lucien,” she added and your ears perked up.

“That’s great, Elain,” you rest your chin on a closed fist, watching her. She shifted and sat her book to the side, page forgotten. “I want to tell you something,” she said quietly, fingers twiddling with each other. She looked... nervous? “I’m all ears,” you said softly. 

“I had a vision while you were gone,” she started and took a deep breath. “It was so muddled at first, I couldn’t tell who it was, but then I saw you. Your hair was longer, you stood taller, and your belly was round.” The breath left your body in a powerful exhale. She looked to you again, eyes watching yours, “You were pregnant and happy and in love,” she said quietly, as if the words in themselves were fragile. Your hands trembled and you moved them under your thighs, her eyes didn’t miss the action. 

“I couldn’t understand why the Mother would send me a vision like that, I saw Feyre’s pregnancy, but we’re sisters, you know?” You nodded. “Then I realized I recognized the tattooed arm I’d seen wrap around you, knew it was Azriel.” Your eyes watered, and you hiccuped out a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while you two were fated, but the Mother was telling me for certain. I hope you know how happy we are for you.” She finished and moved to sit next you, small hand touching your knee. 

“When they brought you in that night, I thought the Mother had lied to me, that it was a vision of what could have been, that you wouldn’t make it.” You’d never heard Elain speak at length in this way, and you thought you might stop breathing. “I’ve never been happier to see you than when Azriel brought you in to read days later, my sweet friend.” You surged forward, throwing your arms around the female and she returned the gesture warmly. 

You sat back and looked at her then. “Thank you,” you said, voice small, a little watery. She nodded before turning to resume her original spot at the end of the sofa, picking up her book and opening it to the page she’d left off. 

In the hours that followed, you’d returned to the kitchen, grateful to find Cassian and Nesta had left. You took Nesta’s advice, gathering the ingredients to build a small berry tart. It had just gone in the oven when your mate appeared in the doorway.

“Hello love,” he said casually, leaning against the door jamb. You startled, turning on your heel to find him smiling at you. “Where have you been?” You asked walking towards him and running your hands around his midsection in a hug, head resting against his chest. His arm came around your shoulders as he pressed a kiss to your hair, breathing in your scent. “That, my dearest one, is a surprise.” 

You looked up chin resting against his chest, watching his face. “It’d better be good, I baked for you,” you said, smiling softly at the Spymaster. His eyes moved to the oven then and back to you, irises darkening, as his pupils blew a little wide. “You… baked?” He asked disbelieving, “didn’t know you knew how to bake,” he followed up playfully. You gasped and shoved him, “for that, you can starve, have fun finding another mate to bake for you.” He laughed heartily and caught your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips, eyes swimming with warm affection as he pressed a kiss there. Gods, the action made lust swoop in your stomach, heat spreading. 

“The fool I’d be to turn away such a female,” he said, voice deepening, lips running across your knuckles with each word. “Azriel” you breathed. “Yes?” He offered in return, still smiling, moving your knuckles back and forth against his hot mouth. “Please tell me this surprise involves you bedding me.” A growl creeped out of his throat, the thought of you under him sending lust racing down his spine and to his groin. 

“It might,” he said quietly, lips resuming their exploration, tracking small kisses from your knuckles, to the joint of your thumb, the inside of your wrist where Rhys’ tattoo lingered, up the soft skin of your arm, to your elbow, until he reached the skin of your shoulder. His lips traced over the raised skin there, a small nip above the scar as he traced north to your collarbone. You’d gone to putty in his hands, head rolling to the side to bare your throat. He pressed soft kisses there, pausing at your pulse point to trace the area with his warm tongue, a whimper escaping your mouth. 

“If this is going to become a regular thing, I’ll need you two to relocate to the River House,” a voice came from behind you and you jumped in shock, but your mate, he let out a possessive growl before turning on the intruder. Rhysand laughed airily and folded his arms over his chest. “Easy, brother,” he smiled, causing Azriel to roll his eyes. You blinked a little dazed, and pulled away from the Shadowsinger. “You’re gonna make me burn my fucking tart,” you shoved him with an arm and laughed as you turned to resume your place at the oven. 

Azriel instructed you to dress comfortably and be ready in a hour as he kissed your knuckles one last time and exited the kitchen. Butterflies roamed freely in your stomach at the thought of what he had planned. You’d returned to your quarters after removing the tart from the oven and portioning it into a small travel sized container. You were going to accept the bond, and your nerves were alight with anxious excitement. After you dressed in a lightweight linen dress, you packed a small bag with your remaining creams, and the boxed tart you’d prepared earlier. 

You descended the stairs to find Azriel waiting at the base, his wings standing proudly behind him, shadows skittering around his feet. At the sight of you they raced to meet on the bottom step, running up your legs, around your waist and into your hair. A laugh escaped you as one nuzzled into the space behind your ear. Azriel watched fondly. “They love you,” he said smiling, taking a step to meet you, “ever since the bond snapped, I’ve had the hardest time reining them back from touching you.” 

You reached a hand out to meet his, interlacing your fingers. “They’re cute, but you’re cuter,” you said with gentle affection. A shadow pinched at your waist and Azriel’s cheeks went a little pink as he laughed. 

“Will you tell me what the surprise is?” You asked as he walked you toward the training balcony. “I’m afraid I’m very poorly dressed for training,” you joked. He snorted, “no, we’re not training.” He came to rest at the railing and then turned to you, running a hand up your arm, fingers moving to hold the back of your neck, warm palm heating the skin there, thumb grazing your jawline. “Amongst many things I’ve been terribly late for recently, I realize I owe you a date.” 

Your face went a little puzzled and you looked to his eyes. “A date?” You questioned. He nodded, “I was supposed to take you flying.” Realization dawned on your features and a smile overtook your lips, each tooth shining in the setting sun. “I wanted to kiss you that night too,” you admitted laughing, remembering how desperate you’d been for his touch and attention. He smiled softly, “you have no idea how angry I was with Rhys for calling me away.” Your eyes widened, still in disbelief that this male wanted you return. It seemed both a millennia in the making and still so new and fragile. 

Azriel snuck an arm around your waist and brought you up into the stretch of his firm body. His other hand tracing down your hip, then thigh, to curve under your knees as he picked you up. His wings unfurled and he shot into the air. A shaky laugh startled out of you and you gripped him tighter, your arms winding around his neck. His wings flapped in thunderous bursts, taking you higher, until you could see the entirety of Velaris spread below, the Sidra flowing like a snake through the winding city. Your breath left you in awe. “The Peregryn was right,” you said loud enough for him to hear and he smiled, pressing a kiss to your temple.

The flight was short, but it took you to the rural banks of the Sidra on the outskirts of the city, just before it emptied into the sea. You could see ships sailing into the harbor, moonlight beginning to trickle across the water. This was undeniably special, you thought, no one would see you up here and you felt like this was the edge of the world itself. You turned to Azriel, finding his eyes already watching you. “Thank you,” you said softly, leaning into him, his chin meeting your forehead as you moved your body to rest alongside the length of his. His hand came to rest at the small of your back, pinky stretching to graze the curve of your bottom. Wherever this was going, you were very interested. 

He turned and grasped your hand, pulling you back up the hill and away from the view, towards a field of wildflowers and grasses. There, in the middle, a blanket had been laid out, small candles lit to illuminate the setting. A basket sat in one corner, a bottle of fae wine held within with an assortment of pastries, breads, and cheeses. You realized quickly that your mate, the male you’d loved for damn near two centuries, was courting you. The thought thrilled you. 

He led you to the blanket and motioned for you to sit next him. “I must confess, I never took you for a romantic,” you said looking from the candles, to the basket, and then to him. He was watching you again. He smiled, laughing a bit nervously, “I’m a lot of things,” he said and your eyebrow quirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?” You challenged him and he loved you for it. You made him feel easy to love, you made loving fun and freeing. Azriel had once only thought freedom could be found in fucking and flying, then he’d found you and he knew it was there too. In the smile of your lips, in the thrill of your touch, in the ease of your love. 

“Well,” he started, moving his wings to lean into you, pressing a kiss to your exposed shoulder. The action caused you to shiver. “I’m a spymaster.” You snorted, “no shit.” A laugh rumbled in his chest. “I’m a bit shy as you well know, I’m quite fond of dancing, I’m—” he hummed the last letter, pausing his thoughts and moving his lips up your neck. “I’m in love with you,” he said biting into the flesh at the juncture of your collarbone and throat, cock hardening at the sound that rolled out of your mouth. “I’m going to take you right here, on this blanket, under the stars.” 

You gasped, your hands moved find purchase in the hair at the back of his head, fingers winding through the strands, nails dragging at his scalp. His nose ran the length of your jawline before his lips found yours. He rumbled a small hum the instant his mouth touched your own. At first it was a gentle press, teasing you as he had done today in the kitchen at the House of Wind. The adrenaline racing up your spine made you feel like you might vibrate out of your skin. His hand reached up then, threading broad fingers into your hair as he took the kiss deeper. Tonguing the bottom of your lip until your mouth opened, his tongue stroking your own. Humming with contentment, he tilted your head, deepening the kiss at a new angle that had heat swooping down to your core. 

You brought your left hand to his shoulder, fisting your fingers in the fabric there and pulling him closer. He understood your intention and leaned you back into the blanket, pleasure alighting each nerve as his body pressed into your own. He eased up on your lips and began a slow trek south, pulling the strap of your dress down the curve of your shoulder, leaving a love bite there that had you gasping. He kissed down the bust line of the dress, laving his tongue at the swell of your breast. Your breath was coming in pants and you pressed yourself up on your elbows as he moved further south, fingertips tracing the hem of your dress that had risen to the middle of your thigh. 

He looked back to you and smiled, mischief playing in his eyes as he ran his hands up your thighs, the slow drag pulling the dress with it. “I’ve been thinking about your cunt for centuries,” he said, his lips on your knee, pressing insistently as they moved north. “I’ve been dreaming of making you come on my tongue since I met you.”

Your breath leaves you in one fell swoop as you feel his tongue at the juncture of your hip and thigh. His mouth was insistent at skin there, tonguing the lace of your panties before pulling them down your legs and off entirely. He picked up a foot, placing it to his chest as he traced the long line of your body with hungry eyes. You were panting already, dressed rucked up around your waist, straps fallen down your arms and breasts heaving. His gaze flowed south and landed on your pink cunt, glistening, begging for him. His eyes went back to your face then, and his titled his head to the side, “Will you let me eat your pretty little cunt?” He asked fingertips tracing the scars of your calf with reverence. He brought your foot up, kissing the inside of the ankle, then nosing his way over your scarred calf, suckling at the skin there. “Please,” he added, eyes moving back to yours as his mouth continued his ministrations. 

“Mother above, Azriel,” you breathed and a laughed startled out of you, “you are mouthy.” He chuckled darkly then, nipping at your knee, taking special care to press a gentle kiss at the new scar there. “Is that a no then?” He said softly and your head fell back with a groan, exposing your neck to his view. “As if,” you said, head pulling back up and lolling to the side to rest on your shoulder. “I’ve thought about it too, and if you back out now I will explode.” He laughed again, freely this time, forehead resting on your thigh. 

His eyes find yours again, and he kept them there as he traced his lips north. He nosed the juncture of your cunt and inner thigh, running a tongue along your mound. You gasped and eyes narrowed, watching him with rapt attention. He pressed a kiss to the top of your slit and his hands come up to open you to him, pulling the lips apart and tonguing the collected moisture there. Your head fell back as your elbows gave way, falling flat against the blanket. 

“You taste better than I imagined,” he said before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking. The moan that left you had his hips pushing into the ground to find relief as his cock begged for release. His tongue flicked against your clit as he sucked and hummed. He thought this might become his favorite place in all of Prythian. He thought that every bad thing that had happened in his life seemed insignificant now that he was able to worship freely between your thighs. He traced fingers up and paused to wet them on his tongue, before pushing his middle and ring finger in to the second knuckle, pulling them out and scissoring them back in again. His tongue found your sweet little button for a second time that night and he laved at it, listening to your cries as he pushed you to the brink. Azriel’s life had been a nightmare, but between your thighs, mouth on your cunt, walls fluttering around his fingers, he thought he’d been blessed by the Mother herself. 

Your hips rocked up in time with his fingers and you cried as your gut twisted, the coil there tightening. “Az-“ you gasped. “Azriel,” you went a little whiny on the vowels of his name, and your hand reached down to thread your fingers into his hair, nails scratching and tugging the strands. He hummed, the vibration sending shocks up your spine. “Azriel, baby,” you gasped, coming up on an elbow again, rutting your hips into his face as he took you higher. He didn’t let up, suckling at your cunt, fingers finding the spongy spot on the backside of your clit that made the world go blank “Azriel!” you gasped again, hips stuttering out, “Fuck, fuck— oh.” In seconds you were reaching your peak, hips faltering, thighs twitching, toes curling into the hard planes of his back. 

He pulled his mouth off of you, pressing kisses to your pubic bone as he moved north up your stomach. He eyes were alight with desire, the male was pure want and you were his last meal. He pulled his fingers from your cunt and trailed them up to rest at your neck as he slotted his body between your thighs and kissed you. The hedonism of tasting yourself on his mouth made you wetter, cunt pressing into the hard line of his cock, still restricted in his trousers. He moaned at the contact, mouth leaving yours to rest his head against your chin and gather himself. The sound sent a pleasurable shock directly to your core. You grasped the hand at your throat and brought his fingers up and to your mouth, tongue laving at them before taking them to the knuckle, and pulling back slow, hollowing out your cheeks and sucking, keeping your eyes on his. He bared his teeth the sight and ground his hard cock into you, the friction on your clit making your thighs twitch. 

“My sweet little mate,” he cooed. “Love of my life,” he nosed your cheek, his fingers still in your mouth. “All my dreaming has been put to shame it would seem,” he pulled his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his tongue, his hands flying to his belt. He growled in struggle and you ventured a laugh. His eyes found yours and his jaw ticked, “keep laughing, sweet girl, I’ll fuck your throat next and you won’t come.” Your eyes went a little wide and a feline grin appeared on your face. “Mouthy indeed,” you said with glee as he finally got the buckle undone and pushed the pants down and off. 

His shirt went next and your fingers traced up his exposed arms to his shoulders. “I’ve seen you shirtless a dozen times, and you still take my breath away,” you said softly, a hand resting on his pectoral. He laughed and went a little pink, before he pushed your dress up your body and over your head, leaving you bare. “I’ve always been impressed by your ability to so disarming,” he said, mouth finding the space above your breast as his hands came to cup them, fingers toying with the nipples. “It’s my favorite thing about you, you see me in a way I can’t even see myself,” he followed up. 

Your eyes watered at the admission and your hands found his face, bringing his mouth back to yours as you kissed him again, tongue entwining with his. Your hands grasped his shoulders, as your leg found his hip and you pushed him over, onto his back. Your hands came to rest on his chest as you settled your weight on his lower abdomen. You could feel his manhood standing to attention, insistent at the curve of your ass and you reached around to grasp it, pushing your chest out for his greedy eyes. Taking him in long strokes, you ran your hand up and down, circling your thumb around the head. His eyes screwed shut as his breathing shallowed. 

“Wanna know a secret, baby?” You offered, rocking your hips in time with your strokes. He whined then, the Lord of Shadows keened a little whine for you that had you ready to come right there. “Last time we hosted a gala, that night before Hybern,” you were panting, “all I could think about was taking you to bed.” His eyes opened and hazel was gone blacked out in pure desire. His hands found your hips and his own began to move in time with you. “I thought about riding you,” you said, twisting your hand in a way that had his breath guttering out of him. “I thought you might love me in the way you looked at me.” His eyes softened and he leaned up, hands tracing up your spine as he pressed kisses to your chest. 

“I loved you that night and every night since,” he said before tonguing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. “That dress you wore, my color, had me hard for a week.” You laughed then removing your hand from his cock and bringing both to his face, so you could kiss him. His hands slipped to your ass then, palming the cheeks as his tongue moved in tandem with yours. When you moved back from him, a string of salvia still connected you two, you reached up to comb fingers through his hair gently.

“I brought you something,” you said quietly, looking to the corner of the quilt where your bag had dropped ages ago. His brow furrowed, confusion showing in his features. “You don’t have to, but I brought some of that tart. If you want,” you offered the statement nervously, as if there was still a chance for rejection. Azriel’s heart went soft and his brain turned to mush.

“You want to accept it?” He questioned, hands sliding up your back and to your waist. You smiled and looked at him incredulously, “Of course I want to accept it, it feels like I’ve waited a millennia for you.” You’d laughed a bit and that feeling of home raced through him again. Gods, he was fucked. 

You leaned off his lap, pulling the strap of your bag to you and unzipped it. There, packaged in a little glass container, lay a small slice of the berry tart you’d fretted over earlier in the day. “Nesta made some stupid comment about ‘cooking’ when I’d asked where you were,” you laughed in hindsight at the female’s leading words. “She knew because Cassian knew, he helped me with the food and candles,” Azriel murmured pushing your hair up and over your shoulder. 

He pulled the container from your grasp then and opened it before picking the pastry up with his fingers, the same fingers that had been inside you minutes ago. Eyes on yours he took the first bite, your heart thrumming as the golden thread of your bond lit up like the sunrise. His eyes never left yours as he consumed the pastry in four bites, swallowing and pulling his fingers into his mouth at the remaining sweetness there. 

The bond between you two was shining, strong and thrumming with love. ‘Hi,’ you tried, your thoughts reaching out to him. He smiled, laughing freely, and his voice came through clearly, ‘Hi, Little One.’ You choked out a laugh, eyes watering as you leaned forward to kiss him, tasting the berries on his tongue. ‘Can I make love to my mate now?’ He questioned down the bond and you laughed again. His hands were already tracing your hips as you leaned forward, hand reaching underneath to guide him into your cunt. Lowering yourself down, you rocked forward once then twice in order to take him to the hilt. 

Mother above, he was big. His cock was thick and filled you wholly, pushing against your cervix making your eyes flutter in pleasure. You thought of the comment Mor had made about wingspan once decades ago and you heard him laugh, “I’m flattered, truly,” he said playfully, reading your thoughts and nipping at your shoulder.

You rose up again and set to riding him slowly, hips moving in long strokes as his hands traced your ass, pulling at the flesh there in time with your movements. You gave a experimental squeeze of your walls, and he keened a loud moan that had you speeding up your flow. “You keep that up, Little One and I won’t last,” he panted at your throat. “That’s rather the point,” you laughed breathlessly, your own hand moving to cup your breast, the other sliding down to circle your clit. His eyes traced the view greedily, moving down to the point where you connected, watching your cunt take him in full, his cock glistening with your shared wetness. He bared his teeth at the sight, a rumble lighting in his chest. 

Just as your walls began to flutter with your impending orgasm, he grasped you and flipped you to your back, pulling your hands from your body and entwining your fingers with his own on each side of your head. He ground his pelvis in deep and your legs hitched higher around his waist. “Azriel, fucking Gods,” you called out at the switch in angle, the tip of his cock grinding into your cervix. He hummed at your throat, teeth marking you there as his hips pulled out and pushed in, grinding each time he bottomed out into you. His wings flared behind him and you thought you’d never seen a more beautiful sight. 

“You take me so well, my love,” he panted, “you were made for me.” You whined then, cunt fluttering around him as he bottomed out deep and held it there, grinding his pubic bone into your clitoris. The pleasure raced up your spine and you thought you’d never be able to leave this place, might have to keep him inside you forever. He growled, reading your thoughts. “You want me to fuck this cunt forever?” He asked aloud leaning up, pulling his hands from yours. 

You whined at the loss, but the sound died as he pulled your legs up his waist to his shoulders, kissing the scarred calf. He drew his cock out, only to slam back in. “Fuck,” you moaned out, voice going up two octaves. “You want me between your thighs for the rest of my days?” He said again, hips moving faster, your hands moving to your tits as they bounced from the impact. His eyes watched the movement and he bared his teeth again, turning his head to bite into the flesh of your calf. 

“Azriel!” You called out again, pleasure zipped up your spine and you felt your stomach tighten. “Az, baby, I’m so close.” He chuckled darkly. “Be a good girl and come on my cock,” he said as his fingers traced down your leg to find your clit, rubbing the bundle in quick, timed circles. “Az- I-,” you barely got the words out before your orgasm overtook you, a long moan exiting your mouth as your cunt tightened around him, he ground into you and worked you through it, before dropping your legs back to his hips and pistoning deeper.

“My sweet mate,” he gasped at the skin of your throat, mouth tracing up to find yours, hands finding purchase on your thighs as he pulled you open, allowing him dive deeper. “My darling love,” he moaned and his tongue moved with yours, your hips pushing up to meet his thrusts, walls fluttering against his velvet length with the remnants of your orgasm. 

You ventured your hand up his shoulder to the base of a wing and traced your fingers up the membrane to the bone. His eyes twisted shut, and he keened a low primal whine that had your cunt ready to come again. At the tightening of your walls, he groaned dark and deep, shadows seeping from him, as he pushed in, grinding against the innermost portion of you. His hips pulled out slightly and then pushed back in as his cock kicked, come spurting against your walls. He panted against your throat as his hands released their hold on your thighs and moved up your body before grasping your throat. He moved up to lean over you and his eyes found your own. He gave an experimental thrust of his hips and your eyes widened. Fucking Cauldron, he was still hard. 

He laughed then, nuzzling at your mouth as he nipped at your bottom lip. “I’m giving you five,” his voice was deeper than you’d ever heard it, “and then I’m eating my come from your cunt and fucking you until the sun comes up.” 

You gasped out a laugh as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. ‘They call it frenzy for a reason,’ you thought, kissing along his cheekbone and to his mouth. Gods, you were fucked. 

[daveslutstaine]

folktale, woods, sunflower, bells, cupboard, eyebags, sweet :3

folktale: what stories remind you of your childhood?

There's a story my mother used to tell me about a mountain near her home town in Mexico, about a village frozen in time within the mountain. The story goes that a priest was about to be executed by the native tribe inhabiting the area, and right before he was killed, he cursed the village to forever reside within the mountain, never to leave and never to grow and prosper with the rest of society. It is said that right after the death of the priest, the village became trapped, and time froze, never to pass within the mountain. It is also said that once a year on Easter Sunday, a opening to the village appears, but that one has to be quick in entering and leaving, lest you become trapped like the rest of them. My mother also told me about another mountain that's allegedly cursed. Similar to the frozen village, there's a mountain that contains a village of skeletons, and that if one becomes trapped within that side of the mountain, you become apart of it with little hope of escaping. My aunt knew a woman who claims she was trapped there once, though that's a tale for another day.

On the lighter side of things, I grew up with stories like Swan Lake, various Disney stories (Snow White was and still is my absolute favorite), and others like this one story that is both vague yet very detailed in my mind. It sounds contradictory I know but it's so hard to describe. It's one of those things that you remember so clearly but you can't get the details right if that makes sense? Anyway, this is a book my mother used to read a lot to me when I was a child. It was my favorite book at the library, though I cannot remember the title, nor the plot very well but I believe it's about the son of two deities that died as a baby and came back to life. His parents, while happy their son was back, were worried he wasn't the same. He lost his powers, and his skin became a very dark blue. He had to live among the humans but because of his unusual appearance they didn't accept him. One day, the village he resided in was suffering a drought, so in order to prevent the villagers from dying, the boy discovers he has the power to control the rain, and so he saves his village by having it rain. This causes his powers to come back, and so he finally joins his parents in heaven as a god of rain. Again I think this is what it is about but I may have many, many details wrong. It's a case of "If I see the art I'll recognize it" since it had a very distinctive art style. Very middle eastern/south east asian looking. It's been 20 years since I've last read it but I can still picture the art very clearly

woods: where do you feel at peace?

A few places, namely my room, my church, libraries, and this one chapel at one of the hospitals I spent time in.

sunflower: what do you love and cherish?

Well this is hard to answer. Probably my brain and my sanity. I've always said my most prized possession is my brain, so I'll go with that!

bells: what sounds are your favorite or calm you the most?

In terms of my favorite, that's the sounds of the cello, the guitar, the lute, the call of bats and the mellotron. In terms of sounds that calm me, it's the chirping of birds, the sounds of bells, the sound of rain on my rooftop, and thunder storms in general. We might actually have rain tomorrow and I am excited!!! Hopefully we don't get any tornadoes this fall. We had quite a few last year

eyebags: what do you think makes a person attractive? Good sense of humor mostly. I like someone who can make me laugh til I piss myself or vice versa. In terms of physical aspects? That's a bit all over the place for me, though mostly because I don't really have a type. I do find redheads quite attractive but that's seems to be it

cupboard: a good childhood memory

Going horseback riding with my Godfather. He knew a lady that ran a horse ranch and would take my Godmother and I horseback riding. My favorite horse was a grey stallion named Moto and I remember getting feed him carrots once!

sweet: what candies or cakes are you fond of?

I love and I mean love cheesecake! Same with cookie cake and carrot cake. In terms of candies, I love Kitkats and Twix the most! Crunch bars are also a favorite of mine along with chocolate truffles!

[vespersposts]

The charm of this guy!!! 😩

Such a smooth pickup line for our Kyoto emperor so... I got inspired by this post from @kvroko (the 2 images of this drabble are from that full set).

Hope you'll like it!

Vesper

The first bloom of summer, a day filled with sunshine.

Your best friend's wedding, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to invest all your savings in that sky-blue dress that had won your heart the moment you saw it.

One shoulder, ankle-length, as soon as you put it on you knew it was going to be your lucky dress. It was just a shame that the groom's stupid best man had spilled an entire glass of red wine on you during yet another toast, forcing you to leave the room for the bathroom and get lost in the vast halls of the exclusive country club.

To the right, maybe to the left, and then finally a bright french window opening onto an interior space, green and populated by people you could ask directions from.

That's what you told yourself as you picked up speed on the stiletto heels you'd chosen, which sank noisily into the cobbles with each step.

Ahead of you, a parade of cold, contemptuous stares. 

People who thought you were yet another parvenu who, under the guise of being lost, was trying to lure the scions of the city's richest families while they practised their riding skills.

As if you weren't embarrassed to admit your complete inability to read the map at the entrance to the building. 

As if you hadn't left your mobile phone in the beautiful satin bag you found in a vintage shop.

"Why am I so stupid?" you mutter in a half voice, leaning against the fence and looking worriedly at the huge white horse standing far away, calm and peaceful, while a middle-aged gentleman caresses its snout and mane. 

You too could use a caress, especially in the early afternoon heat wave in this hostile place.

"Do you like horses?"

This question makes you want to laugh out loud, because if there's one thing that scares you, it's horses. 

"This is Yukimaru... Mr. Aida, can you please bring him here?" you hear his voice continuing the monologue. You bring a hand to your eyebrows and when your eyes regain some sensitivity, you can focus on the features of the person speaking to you. 

A young man with perfect lines, a chiselled profile, deep magenta hair, dressed in a white T-shirt, simple black trousers and boots. Probably Mr Aida's stableboy, who, without batting an eyelid, hands the boy the reins and urges him to enter the corral.

"I can't, it would be rude to this young lady! " the late arrival replies, receiving a series of unintelligible grumbles in return, but he doesn't care: his eyes are so sweet now, as he stares at the animal and opens his perfect hand over its snout, unaware of your presence.

"Why Yukimaru?" you ask, taking your friend by surprise when he finally looks at you. 

"He was born on a snowy day, that's why he's called that. I, on the other hand, am Seijuro Akashi " he tells you with a note of concern in his voice, as if he is afraid that his name might mean something indecent in your language.

"I, on the other hand, was at a wedding and got lost! " you inform him without much ado, trying to avoid the gaze of both your human and equine interlocutors. 

"I see " the boy nods " It's easy to get back to the ceremony hall: follow this path to the main building and then turn right, you'll be back at your event in no time!" he concludes with a smile. His face has such a sweet and spontaneous expression, his eyes are so intense and kind that you feel slightly dizzy.

"Thank you Seijuro!" is all you can say, because a part of you doesn't want to leave him.

" My pleasure..." he interrupts, tilting his handsome face to study yours carefully, as if trying to imprint it in his memory"I don't know your name, but I'm sure it's as beautiful as you are" he concludes, hiding his hands behind his back, making it really impossible for you to go back to your best friend's wedding.

The lame game/2

Im gonna give you a lame pickup line, you're gonna tell me who's the guy behind it.

[whatisgoingonpaul]

Lost boys the beginning (prequel script.) review-

Spoilers!

I said I would do this and here I am, my fascination for the sequel started when I read the wiki page for it and now that I have gotten my hands on it. I still maintain my view that I would give my blood for this have to been made, with the og actors and all. Shut the hell up and get in the time machine boys were making a movie.

I want to get one of my criticisms out of the way right off the bat, it’s more me nitpicking it anything. “How do we make it clear it’s in the past?” “Deep southern accents” I’m not kidding. Despite taking place in literally San Francisco, everyone says ain’t or drops the G off of ing words (Nothing< Nothin’) or this may also be something in California? Is it clear I’m from the east coast. Yet? They do also make no attempts at changing the language to fit the time as quote “party pooper” (I’m not kidding I’m deadass) but this is just me nit picking as I’m very much a period piece person.

Plot-

It’s 1906 boys and we open on David, noted to be bearded and in a fur coat(good to know.). Basically the lost boys were originally street kids grouped together in a little gang well more teens now anyway. They pickpocket and sleep on the beach but David says “ethical pickpocketing” so no stealing from families. Paul can punch real good, we needed to know that for reasons. There’s also a point that the adult gangs kinda go after them as “who’s kid is this” basically but they aren’t really around that much. So a boat arrives , with no one alive on board and boxes of dirt. That’s right mf’s VLAD FUCKING DRACULA, and they do connect him to the impaler(mainly for cool kills) so basically they robbery goes wrong and David shoots the guys everyone panics for a good five minutes because not one of them actually killed a guy before. Long story short after Marko gets a broken hand they get on horses and ride up to the grand hotel with the gold and get a lick at living lavida loca at the hotel , food, a roof, women all that stuff. David gets a thing for the literal I kid you not PRINCESS ANASTASIA(it does not go well.) vlad shows up alive and they ride off again only for what can be described as the coolest shit where the boys basically get picked off their saddles and yanked off into foggy nowhere one by one which leaves only David. Spooky, cool , wild. No one remembers the night before everyone has a good panic sesh, they go do work for vlad because yeah OK, wanna steal the gold but bat boy shows up and says “my boys” so they kinda listen to him. Also Marko and Paul eat a dude. That happens. They basically have a casino night and vlad pulls a maggots trick basically getting all but David to drink. Blah blah blah David is all goo goo eyes for girly , boys on fire some stuff. Later that night I find hysterical is that Paul and Marko have the nerve to go “we hungy ;-;” despite literally eating a dude not even two scenes ago. Dracula plays more mind games David whoops his ass then his friends proceed to try and eat him on a train as said, they hungy. David is basically the Micheal. A lot of stuff happens and the earthquake Dracula is dead whoo but so is David’s girl so rip. Max shows up at the end “oh no. Anyway-.” And isn’t a general manipulative dick like Dracula and says it how it is. They join him the end. They don’t explain how the sire thing switches though...

Charecters-

David: he is the Micheal. The most emotional yet level headed at the same time, he was clearly always the leader with Marko as his right hand man. Though he does not as easily follow vlad as the others, he spits out the blood but it’s? Oh my god the just utter loyalty and love he has for the other boys makes my heart ache. The guy literally dies for them and it’s great. However after being a vamp he becomes the more cool more indifferent little emotion showing David we know. Rip David his crushes either grow To hate him or fucking die

Marko: I will kill for him. A bit more wild then David he doesn’t particularly care for who they steal from, he HATES having to wear the fancy clothing and match the style of the rich people in the hotel getting all snappy. He’s clearly young and snappy most lines after David really, and he’s INCREDIBLY close to Paul. They are literally constantly together, they share a bed, comments and Paul literally lunges to help Marko from the sun despite wounding himself worse in that. They dating. He also says ‘looky’ rip markos right hand which was: Crushed; lit on fire,’lit on fire again.

Paul: himbo. He Aparently is the best fist fighter in San Francisco, good to know. He speaks a lot but it’s mainly “I’m scared what’s going on” or “I’m hungry” along those lines. Super close to Marko.

Dwayne: silent type still but gets to speak a hell of a lot more, clearly a good rider and about everything else. Oh! And there’s this charecter named jasper who turns out to be his brother???? He’s completely useless and is only there to give him something to cry over and steal lines that could be given to the others he’s seriously completely pointless

There is the two .. I don’t remember what they are but they are kitchen staff from Romania who know about vamps and warn David about his friends etc. they are clearly a take on the frog brothers but explicitly middle aged. Are they trying to add a reincarnation subplot? There is also a 5 year old who is only here to steal root beer and it is stated he is “grandpa” so only shit Emerson your old. Vlad I’m sort of indifferent about he’s just here to be a ass, to be Dracula - really he didn’t have to be spesifically dracula. Max only shows up at the end which I don’t really like as I think it would have been better to show him building the trust and relationship better? As he’s just overall better then vlad and that’s saying a lot.

There is other parallels to the og movie:

-Vlad ripping the roof off a carriage to eat the couple inside

-The horse scene over the cliff is easily the night ride with Micheal as it’s equally foggy

-David is basically a mix of himself, Micheal and Sam

- the waiters are a form of the frog brothers

Etc

Overall I think it is actually really really good? The script bleeds a little to 80s and I think they should benifit from some older language. Also drop Jasper he serves no purpose as he dies and said very little to begin with, drop little grandpa to a implied cameo, give more time with max instead of mainly vlad, like did it need to be literally Dracula? However I still love it, it’s David desperately trying to save his friends, their makeshift family. There’s parts were fear just drips off of the boys and it shows! Genuine fear! Genuine panic! Etc. also gives a explanation to the whole free bird thing because David said “fuck you dracula we ain’t yo slaves” (something like that) over all I take it as cannon, with some liberties I like it as a backstory to the boys and it fills in and explains a lot of things. Not to mention it was actually written by the same people?

Honestly give it a read.

[baepop]

Sacrifice

When you go on a camping trip with your group of friends, you realize things aren’t as they seem.

Word Count: 14.3k

Pairing: You x Namjoon, You x BTS Members

Genre: Thriller, Smut, Angst

Warnings: OC is fucked in the head basically (disturbing thoughts/ actions); gore, graphic descriptions (It’s really not too bad but I want to make sure I cover all my bases)

Part 1 | Part 2

You could only see his profile during the duration of the car ride, but it’s all you really needed, enough to hold you off until you could get him alone.

It was easy to pretend you two were alone, two love birds skipping town to spend time together on a retreat away from all of your troubles. You were, after all, in the quieter car (save for Namjoon’s whistling) and that was because of who was riding in the back. Jungkook and Yoongi hardly ever said a word, not even to each other, so the drive up the mountain was peaceful. It was one of those drives that had you zoning out and imagining your life was completely different. Though, you couldn’t say your reveries were that diverse. They were all just variations of the same fantasy where you and Namjoon were madly in love, married and sometimes living in a foreign country. Well, you, Namjoon and his child growing inside of you. Being pregnant, for once, wasn’t just another daydream, and you were thankful for that.

It was easy to pretend he was your summer love, something light and airy, uncomplicated and fun, but it was anything but. He often gave you mixed signals, caused you to stay up at night wondering what he meant when he said this and that, and stressed you out about the authenticity of your relationship. You two simply didn’t exist as a couple outside of your own private sphere, and that worried you for many reasons.

You reclined back on your seat and reminisced about the precious moments you’d shared with him, specifically the first time you two met. It was years ago, at a party thrown by a friend of a friend of a friend. You decided to attend last minute, and you were glad you did, because as soon as you entered the kitchen, there he was, facing his back towards you as he carefully poured himself a drink. You were instantly filled with a sense of serendipity, convinced that the universe placed him in your path that night for a reason, because although this would be the first time you two would talk, it wouldn’t be the first time you’d laid eyes on him.

This had to be a sign, you two were somehow meant to be. You just knew it.

Without much of a second thought, you closed the distance in between you and tapped his shoulder. He turned around and took your breath away, just like that. God, he was so perfect, and you, you were nothing, a lowly admirer that would never have a chance. But being near him made you feel like someone, and it was enough of a feeling to cling onto as long as you needed to. Even after all this time, he still had that effect on you.

You smiled and looked at Namjoon once more before returning to your memory.

Your mouth was dry, and your mind went blank, not having bothered to come up with a plan for when you got this far.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s you.” The boy turned back to the task at hand, but instead of lifting his now full cup to his lips, he handed it to you and got himself another. You gladly took it, blushing at the idea that he seemed to recognize you somehow.

“Y-You know who I am?” You smiled at the brim of your cup, batting your eyelashes.

“Yeah, you’re the girl who followed me around the bookstore the other day.” You grew impossibly redder than before.

Your mind drifted to the day he was referring to. You were at your favorite shop in town, perusing the cookbooks when your favorite person walked in, sounding the familiar chime of the creaky wooden front door. You didn’t ogle right away, instead choosing to feign interest in Chrissy Teagan’s recipes as you watched Namjoon’s wispy silver hairs sway to and fro from the corner of your eye. He was surveying the science fiction book he had just picked up, and you wondered if he was going to buy it this time, since this wasn’t the first time he had gravitated towards that novel upon entering. He did end up buying it, but only after perusing the manga section for 20 minutes.

You didn’t think he noticed you that day. You must’ve been getting sloppier, you thought. Either way, the idea of him noticing you made you giddier than it did nervous.

“O-Oh.” It was all you could say. You had been caught red handed, after all. But he was smooth, easy on the eyes and had such a calming presence to him that you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you should’ve been. It just made you like him even more.

He clapped his hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay, we’re all a little weird.” With a tentative smile, he bumped his cup with yours then walked away. You stared after him wistfully, butterflies in your stomach and stars in your eyes. He was, decidedly, the coolest person you’d ever know, so you followed him around that party all night, and this time you weren’t sneaking around.

You sighed and turned away from his beautiful face, choosing instead to squint at the rowdy car driving right beside you. The rest of the boys were there, and it looked like they were having such a heated discussion that they’d swerve into oncoming traffic at any minute. You chuckled to yourself, watching Hoseok take his eyes off the road to lean back and flail his arms around attempting to smack Taehyung.

Taehyung and that mouth of his, I wonder what he said to piss off this hyung this time.

“What’s so funny?” You looked over at Namjoon. His eyes were now trained on you, gentle and patient. His smile was slight, but it was still enough to bring his dimples out, and your heart leaped at the sight. It still bewildered you that no matter how chaotic your thoughts might be, a simple look of his was enough to still raging waters, each patient smile of his serving as a life preserver.

“Nothing, I’m just happy we’re doing this. I really needed to get away for a bit, you know?” Namjoon’s smile widened before he turned back to the road, resuming his whistling as the car continued to carry you for miles into what looked like uncharted territory. Dense foliage and vegetation surrounded the roads and went on uninterrupted like a background real. It was beautiful, to say the least.

You were simply content with taking in the change in scenery, because there was something magical about how a different environment could equate to a different persona. Back home, you were the same old you with your same old troubles. But out here, so far away from home, you could be anyone you wanted, so you imagined you were a farm girl who grew up with horses and lots of land, easily imagining yourself travestying the forest with innate expertise and grace.

It was fun, until the looming rainclouds ruined your reverie.

“Looks like it’s going to rain.” Yoongi woke up from his nap long enough to point out the obvious. Namjoon didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the road ahead with both hands on the wheel. You recognized the seriousness in his demeanor, because while he would never express his worried thoughts outwardly, you knew he was still human. It was one of the things you loved about him so much, the role he played amongst his long-time friend group. He was always their fearless leader, even in situations that warranted a reasonable amount of fear.

When you first started hanging out with them, it was one of the first things you noticed about him, the way everyone seemed to gravitate towards him, to say things to gain his approval. But none of it seemed to ever go to his head. He was always kind, intelligent and understanding.

As you watched him from the passenger seat, you wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to put your hand on his lap or hold out your palm for him to take, but you knew it’d be a bad idea, so instead his worry became your worry, watching the clouds and the road like a hawk while keeping track of time to make sure you could arrive to the encampment in time to beat the definite rain shower.

Eventually, a soft road that veered off the highway presented itself amongst a clearing in the trees. Namjoon slowed down enough for the second car to follow his lead as he turned into the dirt. You drove for a little while, past all kinds of trees and shrubbery that blended into countless other vegetation until a round clearing of a couple yards in diameter appeared up ahead. Namjoon parked the car further up to allow the second car to park behind him. Once the vehicles were off, you all got to work setting up the tents. It had grown darker, much darker than it was even just half an hour ago, and because of that, Namjoon suggested setting up the giant tent instead for the night since it appeared it might be storming all night. Everyone was okay with that, except for you. You were looking forwards to a little alone time with Namjoon, but it was clear that wasn’t going to happen, at least not tonight.

With a combined effort, you all had the massively sized tent pitched and erect under the biggest tree in the lot along with blankets, pillows and sleeping bags set up inside, one after the other. Only 5 minutes had passed after zipping up the entrance to the tent before the torrential downpour came down with a vengeance. You pouted as the only remaining light was blighted by the sky’s bad mood. This was an awful start to you and Namjoon’s romantic getaway.

The boys always talked about their legendary camping trips, it seemed, only exclusively around you. They always had insiders and memories from coming here every summer, moments you weren’t a part of that made you feel like an outsider. You were so tired of feeling left out that you finally begged Namjoon to let you come along. He nonchalantly agreed, much to your disappointment. You wanted him to say yes of course, but you wanted him to feel the excitement of going camping with a girlfriend and not just with another one of the guys. Although you were a part of the group, you wanted to be more to Namjoon.

You weren’t allowed much time to glower in the dark before the boys’ antics were lifting you from your funk. First, it was Jin with his whooping and hollering, then Hoseok with his imitation of bird noises that sounded god awful. You laughed at the knuckleheads along with everyone else.

Eventually, Namjoon found the lanterns he had packed away for a situation like this. Soft yellow light filled the tent, bouncing off the green fabric and onto everyone’s sweaty faces. You all sat facing each other, looking around at who would be the next source of entertainment to drown out the droning of the pitter patter going on all around you.

“So, what do you guys normally do when you get here?” You looked at Namjoon, then around the room, genuinely curious about what they found fun about this place.

“Well,” Taehyung was the first to speak, rubbing his neck as he looked at the shadows being casted onto the fabric, “it’s never rained when we’ve come here, so this is a first. We’ve never even had to use this giant tent before.”

“Yeah Y/N, why did you have to ruin it for us. It’s no coincidence that it starts pouring on the same day you decide to tag along.” Jimin shot you a playful look. His teasing always sounded harsh, but you knew he was always all bark and no bite, so you rolled your eyes and pushed him. His eyes shrunk into crescent moons as a pillowy smile dawned his features.

“Shut the fuck up.” You quipped at the boy which had him quirking a brow at you. You only ever cussed at Jimin while being around the other guys because you knew how much they liked to bust his balls.

“Yeah, Jimin, shut the fuck up.” Taehyung followed in your lead which had everyone laughing, especially you, when Jimin shot you a not so playful look this time around.

“Oh! I know,” Jin grabbed the small flashlight that was attached to his keys and held it under his chin for spooky effect, “Let’s tell scary stories.” You rolled your eyes at his childish proposal but couldn’t help chuckling when the boys whooped and cheered. Sometimes you felt like you were hanging with 5th graders around them, but you secretly loved it.

“Me first! Me first!” Taehyung waved his hand in the air to get everyone’s attention.

“Alright, but this better be fucking good. It’s the first one so it’s gotta set the tone for the rest of the stories.” Everyone collectively turned to the blonde in wait. He jutted out his tongue to wet his bottom lip as he thought for a second.

“Okay, so…one time, I was playing hide and seek in this abandoned house—”

“NEXT!!!!” Jin yelled then handed the flashlight to Hoseok. Everyone laughed again after Taehyung frowned, clearly displeased that no one gave his story a chance.

“Ah jeez, I’m the worst with this kind of thing.” Hoseok scratched his head, embarrassed to have the entire group watching and listening to him at once. “Okay…um. Okay, so one time—”

“NEXT!” Jin screamed and Hoseok chucked the flashlight at his head. Jin was by far the most obnoxious of the group. If your friend group was a class, he would’ve been the clown and the problematic child all rolled into one.

Jin caught the tiny accessory on his chest then looked around the room for the next person to annoy. When his eyes landed on you, you knew you were his next target. He tossed the flashlight into your lap and you made no moved to pick it up, instead looking back at him with a serious expression.

“What’s the matter? You too scawed to tell us a stowy?” Jin jutted out his bottom lip, mocking you as he always did. You rolled your eyes.

“If you think I’m going to get baited into telling a story after what you just did to them, you’re stupider than you look” Jin smiled then looked down, trying but failing to keep his expression serious.

“I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise.” He held his hand over his heart and batted his eye lashes at you. You flared your nostrils, finding the entire notion unappealing. To the 6 onlookers, it might’ve seemed innocent, but you knew better. Jin was always trying to get into your pants, each tactic used cheesier and more obnoxious than the last. It left a bad taste in your mouth, but you resolved to put up with it in order to be able to stay close to Namjoon. You peered up at your crush who sat opposite of you in the circle. His eyes were watchful and waiting, so you blushed and decided to entertain the idea.

With a sigh, you began your spooky tale, making sure to make eye contact with all of the boys as you did so, speaking in a slow and quiet tone that you knew would easily frighten them.

“This happened last year, actually. I was in my bedroom—”

“I like where this is going already.” Jin interrupted you as he wiggled his eyebrows.

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up!” Yoongi, whom was very much so the listening type, found his outbursts equally as annoying as you did. When he looked back at you, you continued your story.

“Anyway, I was on my bed,” You looked at Jin for a second, checking to see if he was going to interrupt you again. The sight of him almost popping a blood vessel to keep quiet was extremely funny to you, “looking for a song to put on my phone to zone out to. I put my headphones on, and right before I hit play, I hear a woman’s voice singing right into my ear. You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…you make me happy when skies are grey.” You sang in a creepy slow tune, looking around the circle and nearly laughing when you saw Hoseok’s adam’s apple bob up and down. “So I looked at my phone to make sure it wasn’t playing some creepy song by mistake, and nothing. I took the headphones off and the singing continued. Slowly, the woman’s voice became sadder, until she started crying while singing. Her voice was so close to my ear that I could hear the sniffles as if they were my own. I figured I must’ve been going temporarily insane or something, so I turned the lights off and went to sleep with a pillow on my ears, but the singing continued all night. That freaked me out so bad, that I looked up historical information about my house, and you know what I found?” You made eye contact with Jungkook whose mouth and eyes were wide open, concentrating on your story. You knew they must’ve all been entranced if the one who didn’t believe in any of this stuff was frozen like that, so you continued on. “A woman and her child died in my room a long time ago. She accidentally rolled on top of her sleeping baby in the middle of the night and when she woke up… it was dead. It’s said that she held it for days afterward, singing You Are My Sunshine until she starved to death.” You looked around again, holding back a laugh when everyone simply stared back at you wordlessly.

“…NEXT!”

You threw the flashlight at Jin’s head, “I fucking knew it!” Everyone chuckled as both of your outbursts dissipated the tension in the air.

“Hey, I let you tell the story, didn’t I?! Jin rubbed the spot on the side of his head where the flashlight had nicked him.

The rain never let up, so you all made your peace with sleeping all together in the tent. As everyone got cozy in their respective spots, you frowned seeing Namjoon settle in between Hoseok and Yoongi. I guess it was too much to hope for anyway.

The only spot left to take was beside Jin at the end of the row of sleeping bags, and it had your frown turning into a full-blown scowl. You just knew it wasn’t going to be a peaceful night now that it’s come to this.

You fluffed your pillow and laid down gingerly so as not to touch the boy who was watching you with a smirk. Namjoon turned off the lanterns and flashlights, leaving all of you staring up at the apex of the tent in darkness. The only sounds that could be heard was the rain falling incessantly, and it would’ve been enough to lull you all to sleep, if it wasn’t for the piercing cry that rocked the forest and your tent right along with it.

You all stiffened at the same time, not daring to breathe as you waited for a commotion that never came. It sounded as if a woman was getting stabbed in the trees just past the clearing, the sound was haunting and pronounced and it had all of your hairs at attention. Just as quickly as the screech disturbed the quiet of the night, it had gone and left a deafening void in its absence that made way for the droning of the rainfall. You were all sure she’d come bounding towards the tent soon after, calling out for help.

The tension and unspoken fear hung heavy in the air as Namjoon cleared his throat to speak, “Relax everyone, it was probably just a red fox nearby.”

“Bullshit! What animal sounds like that!?” Hoseok looked over at Namjoon incredulously.

“Red foxes, actually, both male and female. They have a distinct cry that mimics the sound of a human female in distress. They often use it to ward off predators such as coyotes or wolves, or as a mating call.”

“Well that’s just terrific.” Yoongi grumbled, unhappy to hear that there may be aggressive animals in the area.

“Now hold on, it could just be trying to get its dick wet, I don’t blame it. Scream on little buddy.” Everyone chuckled at Jin’s joke except for you and Jungkook. You were tired and just wanted to sulk in peace.

“They also,” Another scream that sounded slightly farther away pierced through the trees and had everyone flinching simultaneously, “scream in sets, so be prepared to listen to it for a little while.” Everyone groaned collectively. “It seems to be moving farther away, so hopefully we can sleep soon.”

No one talked after that, silently waiting for the screams to stop. Though they gradually faded into the rest of the sounds of the forest, it only sounded more and more bone chilling, like a haunted echo, a wailing woman running through the trees in pain and agony.

Eventually, the boys fell asleep one by one with Hoseok being the first one to start snoring. Everyone made fun of him, of course.

You laid awake listening to the sounds of the night. You were used to falling asleep to the sounds of a television, and trying as hard as you may, closing your eyes and pretending you were in your bed at home just wasn’t working. You began thinking about what the next day would entail. You were hoping to get some alone time with Joon, but you weren’t sure how to go about it with all of his guy friends around. You considered asking him to teach you how to fish, something that would require you two to get away for a bit and have some peace.

Suddenly, you felt a finger caressing your arm lightly and you didn’t have to turn your head to know who it was. You grimaced, opening your eyes and staring straight ahead at the fabric of the tent. You had laid on your side with your back facing Jin, but he slowly turned over to face you. You shook your shoulder to get him off, but it only earned a low chuckle from him. He always thought you to be feisty, even when you were just plain pissed and wanting to be unbothered.

Jin was simply trying to get lucky a second time, but you weren’t having it, each of his advances making you angrier than the last. You thought you had made yourself clear after that one drunken night, but every time you rejected him it seemed to make him only want you more.

It happened last year at a house party Yoongi threw. You were all there along with a ton of their friends. No one you knew came, because you didn’t have any friends other than the boys, so you followed Namjoon around like a puppy as he made his rounds to greet people he recognized. You always waited for him to introduce you, but he never did, and it only made your party mood disappear into a cloud of frustration and loneliness.

You loved listening to him talk, loved listening to his stories and anecdotes. He was well read and therefore well spoken. He had the ability to captivate any room and teach you something new in the process. It wasn’t just his boyishly good looks that drew you to him, all of your friends were handsome. You were in love with everything else about him too, the way he smiled shyly whenever someone complimented him, the way he could be so graceful yet so clumsy at the same time, even the way his room was full of Ryan plushies. No one knew about that detail except for you. He’d never let anyone inside of his room except for you, and you held that one little detail as a trophy.

That particular night was different, however. You were used to him not paying as much attention to you when the guys were around, but now you were competing for his attention with the rest of the party goers, especially the pretty girls that had shown up when they heard Yoongi was throwing a party for once. You didn’t blame them for the way they fawned over Namjoon and his gorgeous dimples, but you blamed him for the way he pretended you weren’t even there half of the time. You were so upset that you began drinking yourself into oblivion, determined to prove to yourself and to the others who were giving you sympathy looks that you could have a good time without Namjoon. You hated the way they made eye contact with you every time Namjoon spoke over you, or ignored something you said, each moment sending blood rushing to your cheeks and your lips crashing into the rim of your solo cup.

You had skipped dinner while helping the boys get the house ready for the party, so by the time your third cup was empty you could barely speak a coherent sentence let alone maintain eye contact. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Your memories of it consisted of incomplete reels of the boys picking your arms up and dropping them, laughing as they refilled your cups, and getting you to say tongue twisters for their enjoyment.

You were sufficiently drunk and had managed not to gravitate towards Namjoon’s side for the past hour, so you allowed yourself to peak at him from beyond the rim of your cup only to find a red headed girl that you mildly recognized from your neighborhood, sitting on his lap. They were talking intimately, and his smile was dazed, almost sleepy. His cheeks were flushed as he spoke. You couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but you had to imagine it was the funniest joke in the world with the way she keeled over onto him laughing and continuously patting his chest. He was smitten, and you were green with envy.

You had to get out of eyesight lest you vomit the four mixed drinks you had downed. You stumbled into the kitchen, bumping into people on the way there.

“Fuck, fuck fuck! Where’s all the alcohol?!” You slammed your hands against the countertop, looking around at all of the empty bottles littered throughout.

“Easy there, drunky. We ran out so Hoseok and Jimin left to get some more. Not that you need anymore, you can barely stand.” Jin held you by the elbow as you swayed back and forth, but you ripped your arm out of his grasp so fast that it had you stumbling backward into the island. He chuckled, coming forward again to hold you upright.

“I don’t need your help! I’m fine!”

“Who are you trying to convince, me or yourself?” The boy’s grip on you was ironclad, so you sighed and blinked a couple times, trying to regain your composure.

Finally, you looked up at him. His cheeks were flushed, and his forehead was sweaty. His eyes were trained on you but his gaze was far away, unable to focus on anything in particular. Although it seemed he could hold his liquor well, he was definitely wasted. You narrowed your eyes, poking him in the chest roughly.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever told you this before, but I find you very annoying.”

This time Jin didn’t hold back his laughter. “Oh yeah?”

“YEAH! You always think you’re soooo funny,” You flailed your arms about to drive your point home, but it only made him laugh even more, “when you’re actually just super obnoxious!”

“That’s it, let it all out.” He hovered over you, his hand never left your arm and his eyes remained on yours centimeters apart.

“And…and you know what else?!”

“Hmm?”

“Your jokes are corny too!”

Jin guffawed, feigning offense. He found this all too entertaining. “Is that all? Are you done?”

You shook your head childishly, feeling proud of yourself for telling him off like you’d always wanted to.

“Well, if I’m so corny and obnoxious, then you’re extremely fucking weak.” Jin spat the words out at you which had you blinking rapidly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You huffed, furrowing your eyebrows. Being intoxicated always made your emotions run high, so his simple jab was already getting you worked up.

Jin nodded towards the entrance of the kitchen in the direction of the party happening in the living room. “If I had to take a guess, you got yourself nice and wasted because legsformiles over there is occupying all of Namjoon’s attention.” You couldn’t hide the hurt in your eyes. Fuck, is it that obvious? The brunette leaned into you only to whisper in your ear with pure malicious intent, “You’re pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

You flushed with indignance. Suddenly you were trying to rip your arm out of his grip wildly, wanting nothing but to run so you could cry in private, but he wasn’t letting you.

“Don’t tell me you’re seriously going to go bawl your little eyes out after I just called you pathetic? Where’s that fire I always see in you? Where’s that girl that doesn’t take anyone’s bullshit?”

“She’s right fucking here and she’s tired of your shit!” You huffed, looking up at him with watery eyes and crimson cheeks. You could feel the heat radiating off of you in waves.

“Oh yeah? Then prove me wrong then. Prove to me that you’re not just this weak bitch pining over a guy that doesn’t even like you.” Jin let you go and backed away. He half expected you to stomp into the living room and embarrass yourself in front of Namjoon some more. He also half expected you to bolt out of the house to go cry in the bushes. Either way, he was sure to watch since the party was already boring to him. He sees his friends every day, and he’s slept his way through the entire female body in attendance, so he had been bored all along and messing with you was the first amusing thing that’s happened all night.

What Jin wasn’t expecting, however, was for you to press your hand against his dick. His eyes bulged as he looked down at you then at your hand.

“Okay, I’ll prove you wrong. Fuck me.”

Jin chuckled uneasily, confused as to whether this was a trap or not.

“Y/N stop fucking around!” Jin slapped your hand off of him and gripped your shoulders roughly to try and shake you out of whatever momentary craze you had come under.

“I’m serious! Fuck me, right here. I’m not some weak bitch.” You spat the words out at him, tempting him as your hands slid under his shirt. “I don’t need Namjoon’s attention when there’s clearly another fuck boy desperate for it.”

Jin’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like being reduced to just another fuckboy with a crush on you, but hell, he wasn’t one to keep a girl begging. It only took a couple seconds before he turned you over and hiked your dress up your waist. He bent you over the island while you kept an eye out on the entrance of the kitchen.

Jin pushed your underwear halfway down your thighs impatiently, licking two of his fingers and running them along your entrance to see if you were ready for him. You were surprisingly wet, earning a smile from the boy. She’s a fucking freak that gets off on this kind of shit, who’d have thought?

Jin plunged his fingers into your cunt, swirling his fingers around briefly as he fumbled with his zipper.

“Fuck!” He accidently got his boxers caught on his zipper. You rolled your eyes, getting impatient and quickly losing steam.

After yanking his pants down, he wasted no time slapping his impressive length against your pussy then shoving the head into you. You gasped, feeling how much he was already filling you up. You hadn’t expected him to be so well endowed. You now understood why girls in your town took turns flocking to Jin whenever he was around, as if he was a new ride at a carnival that they all scored free tickets to. This was exactly what you needed to forget, forget about Namjoon in the other room getting felt up by another girl much more attractive and feminine than you. You just wanted to get out of your own head for a moment, to feel wanted and attractive in someone’s eyes, even if it was annoying ass Jin.

You struggled to keep your moans low as he fucked you fiercely against the marble. He pounded into you with an intensity that had you seeing stars prematurely. He groped your flesh greedily, struggling to keep up his ferocity with impaired motor skills. He took turns groping your ass and your hips, releasing air tightly through gritted teeth as he reveled in the feeling of your tight walls squeezing his dick. You wanted to moan so loudly, you’d never been fucked like this before, but the only thing worse than having to live with the reality of letting Jin of all people fuck you in public was having others know about it too.

Suddenly your voice of reason weakly pounded against the walls of your mind, pleading for you to think about what you were doing. Jin doesn’t care about you. But Namjoon does, he just doesn’t show it how you want him to. How do you think he’d feel if he found out about this?

Tears sprang to your eyes involuntarily and suddenly you were sobbing against the counter. Jin caught wind of the tiny sniffles and froze. His dick immediately went soft as he pulled it out of you, bending over you to see if you were okay.

“Jesus fucking Christ kid, get a hold of yourself!”

“I—I—” You struggled to get a sentence out, your chest heaving involuntarily, and hot tears poured over your rosy cheeks. You stood up and let Jin help you put your underwear back on, but his hand stilled before it could pull your dress down. Both of your attentions were now drawn to the entryway where Jungkook stood in sheer horror. His mouth was wide open and full of food, his hand holding an empty beer can. He didn’t come in any further, but he also made no moves to leave, until you yelled at him.

“Get the fuck out of here Jeon!!” The boy scrambled out of the kitchen so fast it was almost enough to make you laugh if you weren’t so busy feeling fucking awful about yourself.

You pushed Jin’s hands away and finished pulling your dress down. Your moment of embarrassment slowly faded and made room for more tears, so you swiftly turned and left through the exit in the kitchen. Jin was right all along, you just ended up leaving to go cry by the bushes after all.

It was when you were out of tears and down to sniffles when you heard the door creak open then slam closed. The smell of smoke invaded your senses. You turned to see Jin pop a squat next to you with a cigarette in his mouth and another one nestled in between his fingers extended to you. You took it and put it in between your lips as he held a zippo flame up to the end of it, nurturing the fire with a closed palm.

You pulled and inhaled before exhaling a cloud of translucent white into the quiet of the night. Turning the cigarette over in your fingers to look at it properly, you realized they were menthols, your least favorite kind, but you smoked it nonetheless.

“You have until the end of this cigarette,” You took another pull and exhaled the smoke through your nostrils, your body physically calming down and easing your mind, “and then we go back to how we always were. This never happened, and you’ve always been annoying Jin, capeche?”

Jin chuckled, looking at you for a moment before looking away. “Fine by me sweetheart. But we had a witness so, I don’t know how far you’re going to get living in denial.”

You cringed, remembering the look on Jungkook’s face, the judgement in his eyes. You cussed, flicking some of the ash off of your cigarette.

“Relax. I’ll talk to the kid.” You looked over at Jin and the seriousness in his face and tone. It allowed you to relax and trust in him, so you both sat in silence, inhaling and exhaling for a while.

When the alcohol arrived, Jin left your side and you went home to shower, trying desperately to scrub off all of your shame, but it was futile. You perpetually made bad decisions, and you were always forced to wear them like tattoos.

Things happened exactly as you both had said, however. Well, almost exactly. Jungkook never said a word about the ordeal, and you and Jin had continued bickering and pretending nothing had ever happened between you. He kept hitting on you unabashedly and you kept swatting him away like a pesky bug that just wouldn’t quit.

But you were starting to think that the lack of intimacy between you and Namjoon had emboldened him, since he had never actually touched you intimately like this apart from that time in the kitchen.

As you laid there being caressed by him, you panicked, feeling like your past wouldn’t stop suffocating you.

“Stop.” You spoke plainly and in a low voice so as not to wake up the others. Jin’s hand froze as he propped his body up on his elbow to get a better look at you.

“C’mon, you honestly can’t tell me you haven’t been wanting a round two?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you. I’m not interested in you that way. Or at all for that matter. I hate you, remember?” You hesitated, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at saying your next sentence. “I was drunk and sad, and you were an easy lay. Now please let me sleep.”

Jin scoffed, “What the fuck do you see in that nerd anyway? Earth to Y/N, he’s not interested.”

“You’re wrong. There’s… something between us.”

“…something? For god’s sake Y/N—”

“She said leave her alone, hyung.”

You both turned towards the voice that came from two sleeping bags over. It seemed you were wrong, Jungkook had been awake all along.

You smiled shyly, feeling grateful that he felt inclined to come to your defense after witnessing what went down between you and Jin.

Jin was outwardly annoyed but he stopped making advances towards you immediately and turned the other way to go to sleep.

You turned over too, smiling to yourself and deciding to thank Jungkook for sticking up for you and for also being a gentleman last year when you were a complete mess, especially because you knew it wasn’t just a funny story to him. You’d always known about his crush on you, but things between you two weren’t simple.

You met Jungkook and the rest of Namjoon’s friends shortly after you started hanging around Namjoon. They were all practically inseparable, and because you were now inseparable from Namjoon, it meant you were constantly around them too. You were all much younger back then, and Jungkook was the runt of the group. He was always so innocent with huge doe eyes and a small bunny smile. You quickly noticed how he reacted differently to you than everyone else, but you were so callously absorbed in Namjoon’s orbit that you didn’t care for it at all.

Of course, everyone else quickly noticed his crush on you too and even teased you about it all the time, which frustrated you because you didn’t want anyone picturing you with anyone but Namjoon.

On one night, however, you knew most of Namjoon’s friends were too busy to hang out, so you invited yourself over to his apartment, keen on finally making your move. When you arrived, Jungkook was there, much to your annoyance, but you didn’t let that stop you. Whether he was there or not, you had resolved to show Namjoon exactly how much you liked him.

The night started off innocently with all of you hanging out in Namjoon’s living room listening to his old records and playing games. Though this might’ve started off as just another hang out sesh for the other two, it certainly wasn’t for you, and the longer it went on, the harder it was for you to wait any longer. Suddenly, after Namjoon switched out the current disk for a Frank Sinatra one, you turned towards the love of your life, swayed by the sultriness of the tempo. He turned to you and smiled, so you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

His hands quickly found your shoulders and pulled you off of him, his wide eyes darting over to Jungkook who sat there stunned with the shuffled uno cards in his hands.

“Let him watch, who cares?” You mumbled, turning Namjoon’s head back towards you and kissing him again. His lips hesitated at first, then quickly warmed up to you as his hands found your waist instead.

You two made out for a while, rolling on the floor in a tangle of limbs while Jungkook refused to blink. Eventually, Namjoon pulled away when your fingers found his belt buckle, taking your hands in his and halting your movements.

“You really want to go there?” You nodded dazedly, biting your swollen lip. It was all you could think about, all you wanted since you first laid eyes on him. You wanted every part of him. You wanted to be wholly his.

“Then,” Namjoon smirked and turned towards Jungkook, “take care of him first.” You followed his gaze and watched as the younger boy’s eyes widened impossibly further.

“You mean,” You sat back, realizing what he was implying, “what, is watching your thing or something?” Namjoon snickered and straightened his shirt.

“Show me how badly you want it.” He quirked his brow at you smirked, but there wasn’t any warmth in his eyes.

Part of you was disappointed. You hated jumping through all these hurdles to be able to get to his heart, but you kept telling yourself that this would be the last thing he’d put you through before giving himself to you, so you began taking your clothes off without hesitation. If this was what Namjoon wanted you to do, then you’d simply do it and look forward to the day where it’d finally just be you two.

Jungkook sat a few feet from you, frozen in panic. He was sweating, gulping as he watched your fingers carefully unbutton your blouse. His irises were trained on your very movement and his breathing quickened when you made eye contact with him. You slid your shirt off your shoulders and swung your arms around to unhook your bra, but seeing how scared Jungkook looked, you decided to slow down and take your time, despite just wanting to get this over with.

You crawled over to him and took purchase on his lap, looping your arms around his neck. He was stiff and his hands hesitated to touch you. You wondered if he was a virgin, so you looked back at Namjoon with a questioning stare. He simply smiled back at you, his gaze telling.

You pursed your lips and turned back to Jungkook who was growing redder by the second. “Just relax, okay? I’ll do all the work.” You leaned down and pecked his lips tentatively. That’s when he was finally emboldened enough to put his hands on you and kiss you back hungrily. You weren’t expecting the sudden passion, so you went along with it.

As you began kissing the boy’s neck, you maintained eye contact with Namjoon, wanting him to know that this was all for him, and that you’d be imagining you were with him the entire time.

After that night, Jungkook had seemed to think you two were together, until you pulled him aside one day and told him Namjoon was the only man for you. He got the picture right away, because that was the last day he’d ever spoken directly to you.

Looking back at that time many years ago, you felt a little guilty having taken Jungkook’s virginity while knowing how he felt about you. He ended up being collateral damage, and he certainly didn’t deserve that. But what else were you supposed to do, refuse and risk Namjoon closing himself off to you? You couldn’t risk it.

As you laid there trying to sleep, you wondered what he must’ve thought about you that day he walked in on you and Jin, and you wondered why he felt this loyalty to you despite you treating him terribly.

You awoke alone in the tent. The birds were chirping all around you, soft green light illuminating the disheveled interior of the sleeping arrangement. You had no idea what time it was, but you were surprised everyone had been up and about before you were. You wondered how long they let you sleep in for, feeling bad for not being there while they were probably busy setting up camp. Though, as you stretched out your limbs and yawned, you realized it was awfully quiet, so you hurried to get out and investigate for yourself, deciding to get angry if they had all decided to do something fun without you.

You unzipped the tent hastily and stumbled out, squinting against the sunshine as you surveyed the clearing. Everyone was gone except for Namjoon who sat on a log peacefully reading from his worn-out copy of The Art of War. He perked up to the sound of the leaves rustling under your feet, turning to you and smiling dreamily.

“Hey, sleepy head.” Three words, 4 syllables, was all it took for you to get weak in the knees this early in the morning. You blushed, hurrying to smooth your bedhead and wipe any remaining drool off your face.

“H-Hey. I’ll be right back. You dove back into the tent to rummage through your belongings for a hair brush and some mouthwash. You only left Namjoon waiting five minutes before you hurried over to sit by his side.

As you sat perched on the wood next to him, you noticed he was only 3 pages from finishing the book for the 5th time. It was his absolute favorite book, and you’d watched him pull it out to read countless times before. You waited patiently for him to finish, sitting in the sunshine and feeling content to simply be in his presence. When he noticed you staring at him dreamily with your cheeks resting on your palms and your elbows on your knees, he paused his read to pull you into his chest and nuzzle his nose into the top of your head. Your heart squeezed along with your eyes as you buried your head under his arm, trying hard but failing to keep the goofy smile off your face. You wished you had woken up much sooner, so that you could snuggle with Namjoon for longer than 1 and a half pages.

All too soon, he closed the book and stood up, stretching his arms then placing his hands on his hips. “Alright, what should we do then?”

You pouted at the loss of contact, looking around at all of the pitched tents and the set up barbecue area. “What else is there to do? It seems like you all did everything already. Where is everyone, anyhow?”

“Hobi and Yoongi went down to the river to catch us some breakfast. Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook left to gather some firewood, and Jin went to go find cell service.”

You rolled your eyes, “God forbid he goes a couple days without checking his follower count.”

Namjoon chuckled, shaking his head. “He means well, I suppose.”

It was never like Namjoon to talk badly about anyone. He was almost too perfect, and it was hard to decipher whether this was an irrefutable truth, or if you were simply seeing him through love goggles. He was amazing, much too amazing for you, that was for sure, but that didn’t stop you from holding out hope that yours and Namjoon’s relationship would evolve into something much more than fleeting signs of affection.

“So, you waited here alone for me?” You looked up at him hopefully.

“Yep. I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” You smiled down at your knees, feeling appreciative that he was so considerate of you when any of the other guys wouldn’t have thought twice about leaving you for dead. “These parts have a lot of wildlife, so it’s best to stick to a buddy system.”

“Ah, so we’re buddies then.” You stood up and linked your arm to his.

“I hope you’re not too disappointed. I promise to make it worth your while with plenty of riveting facts about bugs and birds.”

You rolled your eyes and smiled cheesily, “I suppose it’ll have to do.”

As you both ventured up a narrow trail that took you in between tons of maple trees, you thought back to the last time you were able to spend some alone time with Namjoon.

It was months ago, back when one of Joon’s relatives had passed away.

The funeral was brief and simple since Namjoon didn’t have much family as it was. The boys and you were the majority of the attendees. Everyone felt awkward, feeling out of their element when it came to being a support system for their fearless leader. Namjoon was never someone they had to look after, so to see him absolutely broken was hard for them, and it was especially so for you.

You spent all week at Namjoon’s place, making him food to eat and spending a lot of silent time together. He refused to talk about it, refused to say anything about how he was feeling. He simply preferred to sit in silence and stare at whatever food you brought him. You felt like you were bothering him at times but if you weren’t going to be the one to take care of him during his time of need, then no one else would. Everyone always assumed he was an immovable pillar, someone strong and incapable of crumbling, but you saw past all of that. You knew what a gentle soul he was, and you didn’t want that to get lost in the sea of grief washing over him.

After the burial, all of the boys paid their respects, sticking around to talk to Namjoon a bit before they slowly went their separate ways. You stuck around to walk him home, hoping he’d invite you in. You already felt intrusive enough, and you wanted him to show you that he cared for you at all, even if it was something as simple as uttering the word stay.

But much to your disappointment, you watched him walk past you when you stopped in front of his door and enter without a backwards glance. You stared at the wooden door for a while before heading home, letting a few tears escape while you were still alone.

You didn’t have to wait long to hear from Namjoon either, he showed up outside of your bedroom window last that night, throwing tiny pebbles at it until you lifted the glass to see who the hell was disturbing your sleep.

You stared down at the silver haired boy in awe, unable to believe he was staring back up at you waiting to be let in. Hell, you hadn’t even known he knew where you lived.

You hurried down and snuck him upstairs swiftly.

As he stood in the middle of your tiny room, dwarfing your belongings and you for that matter with his height and stocky build, it only then occurred to you that you might feel embarrassed. You blushed realizing he was observing you in your childish pajamas, surrounded by posters and trinkets you’d had since you were a teenager. You never cared much for change, so it times it seemed and felt as if you weren’t a full-fledged adult.

He was definitely out of place in his shabby oversized suit and dirt covered converses while looking around wordlessly. He nodded to himself before finally looking at you. “So…this is your bedroom, huh.” He smiled, but it never quite reached his eyes.

“Yep. Since I was a toddler,” You smiled back halfheartedly. You were on edge, to say the least. “Namjoon, what are you doing here?”

The boy looked down at his feet, the sad expression he’d worn all week making a return. He made his way over to you, pausing at the edge of your bed to ask permission to make himself at home before he sat next to you and sighed deeply. “I…I don’t know, to be honest. I guess I just…don’t want to be alone.” Namjoon’s head hung and his hand hesitated in the air before finally placing it on your knee and rubbing circles on it with his calloused thumb.

Your heart skipped a beat. You shifted closer to him, putting your hand over his and patting his back gently to let him know you were there for him. You heart pounded furiously in your ears as you waited for him to either make eye contact with you or say something else. The silence felt overwhelming, so you blurted out the first thing that came to mind

“I love you, Joon.” You froze, blushing furiously and choking on your next words in a hurry to get past what you knew he wasn’t ready to hear yet. “Y-you know I’ll always be here for you.” Namjoon nodded, looking up at you with sympathetic eyes that broke your heart. You didn’t know much about love or relationships for that matter, but you knew it couldn’t be a good thing that his response was to look at you as if you were a beaten-up puppy left on the side of the road.

His prolonged silence stung, so you turned away, searching for anything to relieve the unbearable moment. But just as quickly as you turned away, Namjoon’s finger tipped your chin back towards him and suddenly his lips were on yours, hesitant and calculative.

You didn’t move at first, adjusting to the realization that the love of your life was now kissing you. It was sweet and tasted faintly of toothpaste. He was everything you ever wanted, so you brought your hand up to his cheek and kissed him back sweetly. If he wasn’t ready to hear what you had to say, then you wanted your lips to convey everything your words couldn’t. You wanted each kiss to be all the ‘I love you’s’ you’d ever wanted to say to him, and all the caresses to make him feel as warm and safe as his smiles always made you feel.

It was clear he was letting you have full control over the situation as his hands refused to depart from this lap. You weren’t sure what he wanted, or needed in that moment, so you took a leap and climbed onto his lap. He spread his legs and leaned back slightly, letting his large hands rest on your hips. His eyes drank you in as if for the first time. He surveyed your entire body hungrily, his irises darkening as they made their way up to gaze at your own. You were both slightly panting from the heat of the kiss while you let his hands feel the fabric of your clothing and any exposed skin. He let you tug his suit jacket off his shoulders while his hands traveled slowly over your thighs, his hands pulling up your shorts to expose even more skin and part of your ass.

His hands continued upwards, taking your shirt off before bringing your face to his to kiss again. It all felt so surreal. You had imagined this moment in your head so many times before, each time under vastly different circumstances than at present. In your fantasies, he was almost always your boyfriend, and he always said I love you too.

You let his hands grope your bare chest as you got to work on the buttons of his dress shirt. Once free, you spread the fabric open and laid your hands on his chest. Your mouth watered at the sight of his honey skin stretched over taut pecks. He was absolutely perfect.

One thing that didn’t stray from you fantasies, however, was the way Namjoon made love to you. He was as tender and giving in real life as he was in your head. It hadn’t taken long for you two to strip each other and for you to put a condom on him that you found in one of your drawers.

You rolled the latex down his length then shimmied under his torso and opened your legs wide for him. He leaned in as you wrapped your arms around his neck, lining his cock at your entrance then plunging in. You both sighed in unison, adjusting to the feeling of him being inside of you. You were impossibly wet and growing wetter still as he began rocking into you slowly, making sure that you weren’t in any discomfort. It was the complete opposite of fucking Jin, you were happy to discover.

His sweaty forehead laid on yours while he bucked his hips into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and clung onto him for dear life, reveling in the feeling of being the closest to this man you’d ever been.

Your lips dragged across the salty skin of his neck and shoulders, your teeth catching on his shoulder. You nipped and licked at the skin while he groaned in your ear. His arms encircled your head as his hips picked up in speed, causing you to lose control of your moans. He quickly pressed his lips against yours to muffle the sounds as his hips got impossibly faster, eventually making the bed squeak rhythmically. You were too caught up in the moment to care about that though, not when you were finally with Namjoon. Eventually, you couldn’t hold out anymore. The motion and intensity of his hips had you orgasming around him. He groaned into your ear as he spilled his cum into the condom deep inside of you. Your sweaty bodies remained entangled as your breaths slowed. You never wanted to let go of him, so he had to pry your limp limbs off of him to get the condom off.

Much to your happiness, he laid back down next you after disposing of the soiled latex, pulling the sheets onto your bodies. He laid on his side, facing his back towards you, so you settled for being little spoon.

But the consequent joy of your brief intimacy subsided and made way for all the terrible things at the back of your mind. You silently cried for a long time that night, for many reasons. You had felt overwhelming happiness at finally being intimate with Namjoon, but you also felt incredible sadness at the thought of what Namjoon must’ve been going through. You’d never experienced a death in the family before, but nonetheless, you swore you wouldn’t hesitate to take his pain and give it to yourself if you could.

You felt insurmountable fear. Fear about the future and the present and the past. Fear that he’d find out about Jin, fear that he’d wake up in the morning and regret tonight, and fear that he’d get mad at the thought of you being pregnant with his child. There was a chance of it happening, after all, since tonight you’d used the condom you had deliberately poked holes in. You’d be overjoyed at the chance to carry his baby, but you couldn’t be sure he would be happy about being a father right now.

Most of all, however, you felt great sadness at the fact that the man you loved hadn’t turned around once all night to ask you why you were crying.

And now, as you watching his back while hiking the trail in the woods, you rubbed your lower belly, feeling comforted that even though he had decided to pretend that night never happened, you now had insurmountable proof that it did in fact happen. A physical manifestation of the love you and Namjoon shared, even if only for 20 minutes. Your stomach was still flat, but you just knew you were pregnant. You always felt a part of him with you at all times. There was no way you weren’t.

You whistled along giddily as you jogged to catch up with him.

“No, no no. There’s no way you’re going to convince me that these bugs aren’t out to get me, you’re just not!” You slapped at the air in a panic, swearing for the 11th time that something had bitten you while you were unawares.

Namjoon chuckled, helping you climb over a hump of large, overgrown tree roots. “Y/N, I promise you, no matter how scary their physical appearances look, bugs found in a forest such as this one are polyphagous. They’re not going to crawl in through your ears and eat your brain while you’re sleeping, as you so elegantly put it.”

“Poly-whatta?” You stumbled over some branches hidden under a pile of leaves. Hiking was not your favorite, but if it meant getting to be with Namjoon, you were game for anything.

You two had been walking and descending for about 20 minutes. The gurgle of running water could now be heard faintly in the distance, and so could the voices of the boys laughing and splashing. Foraging for firewood my ass.

“Polyphagous. It means they dine on oak, not people.”

You two cleared the remaining trees, peering over the jagged rocks that lined the small cliff overseeing the river. Namjoon’s friends were indeed a few feet below, taking a swim break.

“Yeah, whatever.” You waved him off absentmindedly, becoming entranced by the height of the cliff. You pondered whether the jump might be fatal, and just before you decided to launch yourself, Namjoon’s hand reached out and grabbed your wrist tightly.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

You looked behind you at his panicked eyes. “Jumping. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that you could die! We’re really high up!”

“So what if I died?”

Namjoon was stunned into silence, unsure of how to respond.

He looked down then back up, raking in your entire figure with turmoil on his mind.”

“It’s not just yourself that you should be worried about, you know.” You furrowed your eyebrows, unsure of what he meant but becoming increasingly annoyed by the usual vagueness in his words. You shook his hand off, looking back down at the water.

“Whatever, I’ll be fine! But if you’re sooo worried about me, come join me.” You smirked mischievously at Namjoon before bolting into the air. The boy cussed, removing his boots in a hurry to jump down after you.

Your descent into the icy water was quick. You were only able to hear the boys crying your name before you plunged deep into the dark waters. Your eyes jolted open at the sudden change in temperature your body was experiencing. It was the middle of summer yet this water was so unbelievably cold.

The surface ebbed and flowed inconsequentially, but what laid under was devoid of light and existed so still and undisturbed that it felt dreamlike. You couldn’t hear a sound and could barely see anything. Your body lost velocity exponentially as your trajectory came to a halt a few feet under the surface, suspended in the stillness of the cold water. You were running out of air quickly, but you weren’t in a hurry to swim up, or move. You just wanted to be, for a second. Being so deep in the water and alone, you thought about how easy it might be not to fight anymore.

Suddenly, Namjoon breaking the surface of the water and joining you a few yards away in broke you out of your reverie. You turned to look at him, but you couldn’t focus on his receding body as he quickly swam to the surface, not when there was another body next to his.

It was pale, so devoid of blood that it served as a beacon of light among the murky backdrop, like a moon in the darkest night.

It was a girl, similar age as yours. She was naked, her limbs extended out in front of her. Her eyes were open and her light brown hair waved gently all about her in disarray. Her lips were puffy and her stomach was awfully distended yet sagged that it looked like she was pregnant, or rather once was.

You screamed, but the sound was muffled. Only bubbles escaped you as you began flailing your limbs in a panic. Two arms reached around your torso and dragged you up and into the light.

The second you broke the surface of the water, you gasped for air, looking around you in a panic, You were in Jin’s arms as he stared at you with concern, but you had a hard time focusing on anything in particular.

“What, are you fucking suicidal or something!? What the hell was that about?!” Seokjin let you go once you began shoving him off of you.

“Well don’t fucking yell at her, she’s clearly spooked!” Hoseok swam towards you, trying to get you to look him in the eyes.

“T-Th-The—” You stuttered, pointing at the water, trying not to cry before you could get your sentence out.

“Spit it out junior!”

“There’s a-a a dead girl in the w-water.” Everyone’s eyes widened and their jaws tightened, their senses on high alert at the thought of danger being close by. They all looked around at each other, but it was Jungkook who dove into the water to investigate what you were talking about.

“S-she’s pregnant too! She’s right there, right next to Namjoon!”

“Shhh,” Jin cooed you and patted your matted down tresses. Jungkook came back up for air, giving Namjoon and Jin a look before Jin took in your frazzled appearance again. “Look, it could’ve been anything down there. Let’s get you dry, okay?”

“N-No! I know what I saw!” You argued with the boy who continued cooing you, but nonetheless you let him drag you out of the water and towards their belongings by the rocks. He draped several towels over you and sat you down on a stump.

“Just stay here and calm down.” Without a backwards glance he joined the boys and they resumed their talking in hushed tones and whispers so you couldn’t hear them. You rolled your eyes, gritting your teeth in annoyance. You knew what you saw, yet you were just another crazy girl to them. Hell, maybe you were, but you weren’t going to let them make you believe you were seeing things.

While their backs were turned, you quietly got up and trekked up the ascent. You decided to call the cops, but as you entered the forest again, you realized you had forgotten to take your phone out of your pocket.

“Fuckkkk,” You removed the device from your drenched pocket and clicked all of its buttons to no avail. It was done for. “Great…”

Luckily there was still plenty of daylight ahead, so you set off toward the direction of camp, keen on changing your clothes and drying your hair. However, along the way you seemed to have followed a different trail, since you had been walking aimlessly for 40 minutes and the camp was still nowhere in sight. The realization sent a tremor of fear through you.

It’s okay. Calm down. Remember what Namjoon told you about getting lost in a forest. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes to regain your nerve.

Namjoon. You wondered what he was doing and thinking about right now. You wondered if he noticed you were even gone by now. You hadn’t heard the boys in almost an hour, and suddenly you felt so alone. You gulped looking around you carefully and remembering what Namjoon said about there being wild animals in the area. Crap, I forgot about the buddy system.

As if on cue, you heard leaves and twigs snapping under the weight of two pairs of boots nearby. Your head quickly snapped in the direction of the growing sounds. Two people were getting closer to you, and upon recognizing the voices of Hoseok and Yoongi in idle chat, relief flooded through you. When you heard your name, you realized they must’ve been looking for you, so you ducked behind a tree, intent on scaring them when they got a bit closer. It would be payback for not taking you seriously at the river.

“Where the fuck could she have gone? She wasn’t at camp and she fled the river. There’s nowhere else she could be hanging out at, really. She hates nature so…” Yoongi swatted at the air, a winged bug gracefully avoiding his attack.

“I don’t know man. But we have to find her or else Namjoon’s going to be pissed.” Your heart swelled. Could he have told his friends that he liked you enough to be upset if something had ever happened to you? You tried not to squeal with glee, changing your mind about pouncing on them in favor of eavesdropping. Everyone was always so cryptic with you, so this was the only way to find out about Namjoon’s feelings for you. Hoseok helped Yoongi over a log as he continued speaking. “Remember the last time we lost a girl?”

Yoongi groaned, “Don’t remind me. He wanted to kill us on the spot when we told him Chaeyoung ran away. Luckily that didn’t end as badly as it could’ve.”

“Yeah. She was a slow runner.” The two boys sniggered, their footsteps getting farther and farther away. After a few moments of silence, they began calling out your name in all directions, but you stood frozen in shock.

The last girl? Chaeyoung? Slow runner? None of it was making sense. You began trembling, tears welling in your eyes. You felt insurmountable fear. There was no denying that their conversation wasn’t innocent. It seemed sick, almost. Your mind began racing, wondering if you had missed anything during your friendship with these guys to suggest that they were dangerous. They all seemed like normal people, and they never chased you down for friendship. You had all been friends for a long time now. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

But you couldn’t deny that the name Chaeyoung rang a bell.

You drew in a shaky breath, a younger girl with big eyes and reddish hair flitting across your memories. The name belonged to a woman that went missing in your neighborhood a long time ago. You had grown up in the same town, attending the same birthday parties and seeing each other at the park often, but you were never friends. You had always heard of her, but never really talked to her directly. After you had all grown up, it had been years before you even heard her name again. The last time you saw her was at Yoongi’s party last year, sitting on Namjoon’s lap.

It was your coworker that brought her up on a random day, asking if you had known who she was. Her body had been found in a local park that summer, tied up and drained of blood completely. The entire ordeal shook your neighborhood to the core, the thought that something so gruesome could happen to such an inconsequential girl. That was the last time you thought about her, until now.

Could she have been running from them, the night that she died? You shook your head, unwilling to believe your friends could be behind something so vile and monstrous. But now that you were thinking about it, you hadn’t known any of them knew her until you saw her at the same party as you. Since you hung out with them all the time and she was never there, you figured she was just some random attendee. Could they have been reminiscing about a time long ago when they were possibly good friends?

You tightened your fist, digging your nails into your palm and finding the resolve to get answers. You set off quietly behind Yoongi and Hoseok, keeping a safe enough distance to make sure they didn’t see or hear you following them.

Fifteen minutes went by with them calling out your name until things got quiet again. You grew anxious as they continued on in silence, mentally pleading for them to say something, anything that would dispel you suspicions about them.

Suddenly, Jungkook came bounding into view from a downhill slope. “Anything?”

“Nah, we’ve been walking around in circles and haven’t seen her. Is everyone else looking?”

“Well, Namjoon is at the campsite in case she turns up, and Jimin and Tae are getting rid of the body at the river.”

“Like they should’ve done the first time around. I really don’t want to be there when Namjoon tears them a new one.”

Jungkook shivered, recalling his own time when he fucked up and Namjoon was angry with him. “Yeah… Have you guys seen Jin? I haven’t seen him at all, so I assumed he was out searching with you two.”

The boys looked at each other in confusion. “No, we haven’t. Maybe he’s searching for service again.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, “Well, now we have two people to find. It’s Jin’s turn to do the deed.”

“Oh shit, that’s true. We’ve all done it except for him.” You clapped your hand over your mouth to control your oncoming hyperventilation. The deed?! What the fuck!?

“He better not pussy out. He puked the last time.” Yoongi made a face of disgust while remembering Jin spilling his lunch all over the ground. Hoseok cackled at the memory.

“Oh yeah! I forgot about that!” Their voices trailed off as they began moving again. You didn’t follow them this time, growing more and more afraid that they’d catch onto you eventually. When they were far enough away, you began moving in the opposite direction, your mind racing a mile a minute. You had to formulate a plan to put as much distance from yourself and them as possible. You still didn’t know what the hell was going on, but you knew you wanted to be as far from it as possible lest you somehow met the same fate as Chaeyoung.

But although the boys in this moment were scaring you, you still felt the need to see Namjoon, to speak to him and have him confirm that everything was alright. He always made everything alright. He was your everything, and if anyone could say the words you absolutely needed to hear, it was him.

You knew you were close to camp since the trees were thinning out the farther you went. Surely enough, you were able to spot the tents a couple yards from you in between the wide cracks of the trees.

But just as you took a step in that direction, your eyes flitted toward movement just up ahead. It was Namjoon, crouched down by a bushel. He wasn’t alone, a small woodland creature was keeping him company. Like some Disney prince, he was feeding a bunny…no, a squirrel? You couldn’t see properly, but none of it mattered. Namjoon would always be Namjoon and he’d always be everything you needed. You lurched forward, intent on running into his arms in that moment, but suddenly a pair of arms wrapped around you tightly, halting you from going forward.

You instinctively froze, not knowing whether your detainer was armed or deranged. You trembled and your breath quickened as a big hand clasped over your mouth tightly, fear taking over you. He was tall and strong; you wouldn’t be able to get out of his grasp without a weapon. Your eyes flitted around to anything sharp that you might be able to use, but when your head began moving around, he yanked your jaw back in the direction of Namjoon.

Suddenly, Seokjin’s voice was stern and low in your ear. “Calm down. Just watch.” It seemed he too, was trying to avoid getting seen, and he wanted you to watch Namjoon for whatever reason, so you did.

Your breathing slowed and you slumped against him, feeling as helpless as the feeble squirrel eating from Joon’s hand. You both stared as Namjoon fed the animal his last snack. Without using quick movements that might alert it, the boy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a blade. In the flash of an eye, the animal’s throat had been cut, blood spurting out and getting a little onto Namjoon’s boots. Your eyes squeezed shut, an involuntary scream leaving you that was luckily muffled by Jin’s strong hold on your face. He held you tighter to him, yet he too was trembling.

Namjoon quickly pulled out a cup and held the animal upside down above it, letting the crimson liquid spill into the canteen. Fresh hot tears spilled from your eyes, a sob wracking your figure as you witnessed the gory scene through water eyes.

Once he had collected enough blood, he tossed the carcass aside and carried the container back to the campsite while whistling. As his figure retreated past the trees and away from earshot, Jin let you go and your shaky legs caused you to collapse onto the ground.

He let you cry for a while, knowing the experience would traumatize you but knowing you needed to see it.

You stuttered, trying to make sense of it all. “B-but. W-why…D-did you all bring me here t-to kill me?!” Jin flinched at the word yet didn’t offer anything. You looked down, rubbing your stomach with your cold hand. “B-but…you can’t! I’m pregnant, with his child you, you can’t!”

Jin pursed his lips, is eyes raking you with concern. “Y/N…you’re not…” Jin’s voice was barely above a whisper and he couldn’t find it in him to finish his sentence, but you didn’t notice. You were too busy wracking your brain for possible reasons as to why Namjoon would want to have you killed. Your lip trembled with horror. You feared Namjoon might be upset about what you did but, you didn’t expect this kind of reaction.

“B-but, how did…h-how does he know?” Jin sighed, unsure of how respond.

You shivered, partly because you were still in wet clothing and partly because the idea that you were never in control of this situation was too much to bear. You weren’t sure what to feel or what to think, but the only thing you were certain of was that you wanted this baby no matter what. You clutched at your stomach, vile filling your mouth.

“Y/N, you have to listen to me—” Jin reached out to you but you slapped his hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me. You’re all sickos.” You sobbed, rubbing the goosebumps on your arms. “I have to get the fuck out of here.” You looked around frantically.

“Y/N! These guys aren’t going to let you leave so easily, please calm down before you draw attention to us!”

You turned to the boy whose urgent expression only made your suspicions grow. “Why are you saying all of this? They’re your friends. Why are you helping me?”

Jin pursed his lips in concern. “I…this has all gone too far. I didn’t know…I didn’t know how serious they were when they told me the stories about their camping trips I—I tried but I just can’t be a part of this.”

You stared back at him, searching his eyes for truth. You trusted Jin about as far as you could throw him, but right now you had no choice but to put your life in his hands.

“So, what should we do then? All of our stuff is in the cars and we’re too far away from civilization to leave on foot.” You tried to stifle the panic evident in your voice.

Jin nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah, these bastards know exactly what they’re doing. I’ve been trying to call for help since we got here but there isn’t any service for miles. There is, however, a highway a couple miles north from here, the same one we were on before we turned onto the trail. We can follow it back to town.”

As you nodded, you couldn’t shake the fear that overtook you, the realization of fleeing a fatal situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. You began crying again.

“Jesus Christ Y/N pull yourself together! Can you do this?” Jin grabbed you by the shoulders and shook you, looking into your eyes for resolve. You gasped, his words transporting you back a year when he last said them to you. “You need to follow the trail northwest, that’ll get you to the road.”

“W-wait. You’re not coming?”

“I can’t, they’ll know something’s definitely up if I we disappear together. They think I’m checking my phone right now, but it’s already been a while. I have to return to camp, but follow the trail and I’ll meet you at the end of it, okay? I have a plan. If I act fast enough, I might be able to steal the car keys and pick you up by the road.” You nodded frantically, wiping your tears with the back of your hand. “But Y/N, if I don’t show up by nightfall, you have to leave without me. Promise me you’ll go.” You nodded weakly, your lips trembling with unshed tears. “I need to hear you say it.”

“I will. If you don’t come by nightfall, I’ll leave.”

Jin sighed with relief yet the furow in his brow didn’t smooth out. “Okay, good. I’m leaving now. Don’t forget, follow the trail northwest.”

“Okay, I got it.” You watched the boy turn his back towards you and carefully head into the campsite. Namjoon greeted him frantically, unhappy to hear that Jin hadn’t run into you. Namjoon tugged on his locks, then placed his hands on his hips, his mind quickly forming a backup plan.

You retreated farther into the forest, not wanting to waste any time and risk being found, and you weren’t. You were able to find the trail that lead to the highway without an issue, it was your onset fever that made the trip tumultuous.

It started with sneezing, followed by more shivers, and then a killer stomach pain that had you leaning against trees for support. By the time you had reached the top of the mountain side, your vision was hazy and your forehead hot to the touch. You were so weak and barely able to walk that the lest trek up the hill took much longer than it should’ve.

You realized you were becoming delirious as you broke out into the middle of the road, missing a car by mere inches. Its horn blared in your eardrums and the lights blinded you momentarily, causing you to stumble out of the street and onto the metal railing that lined the highway.

There was nowhere to stand on safely and wait for Jin, so you retreated back into the trees and watched each car that drove by while trying to blink tears away. The air licked at your exposed limbs harshly, the weather feeling like the dead of winter despite it being the middle of July. You were sweaty and dehydrated.

A car passed by every 5 minutes and as time dragged on, you grew more and more helpless, worrying that Jin wasn’t coming at all. You considered the possibility of having to make the trip home on your own, something you hadn’t let yourself think of because you were too afraid of worst-case scenarios. Besides, you wouldn’t make it far in your condition.

But as the sun descended and the cars passed by less frequently, you mustered your resolve to begin walking the highway slowly, careful not to veer into traffic in your delirious state. Your trembling hand gripped the rails while the other clutched at your lower abdomen.

Just as you had made it a few yards from the clearing in the woods, 2 consecutive honks had you whipping your head behind you. The lights blinded you, but nonetheless you recognized Namjoon’s car approaching.

It slowed to a stop beside you and you climbed in shakily, closing the door and turning towards Jin. Except it wasn’t Jin, it was Namjoon. He looked at you and smiled, whistling his favorite tune as you stared back in horror. Suddenly his eyes darted downwards, and the sight had him frowning. You followed his gaze to notice all of the blood running down your legs for the first time. Namjoon had been right, as he always was. You had more to worry about than just yourself, and so you began sobbing, sagging against the worn-out cushion. Just like that, you were transported back to that fateful night in your bedroom, when Namjoon ignored you as you wept for many things outside of yourself.

[gaitwae]

prince charming •||• Loki x Reader

Today was going to be like any other day. Normal. Or bad. I had made sure that Loki didn’t remember. Or, I tried to make sure. No one was going to remember anyway, so what was the point? Except . . . they all would. I groaned into my pillow.

I rolled out of bed, not even glancing at my phone. I didn’t want to see the date. I didn’t want to be reminded about today.

Tony and Thor and Peter would want to throw me a large party. Steve and Bruce would buy me something thoughtful and I started to feel bad already. Nat would probably be the only one to mostly follow my wishes about today. (I hoped.)

Loki would most likely hover around me and spoil me beyond the stars. Without my permission, too. Shower me with whatever I wanted, go to ridiculous lengths to keep me smiling. Drop cute pet names like “darling” and stuff. My heart fluttered at the thought.

I sigh. Loki would not be able to spoil me today.

I stumbled to the bathroom to take a shower. I wasn’t even properly awake. I blinked my still-glued eyes furiously, trying to see. “I look like crap,” I mutter. “They will kill me today.” I wanted to die today.

I stripped, getting in the shower. I kept it quick, trying to make it as easy as possible to leave my apartment before the others came at like, eleven, or something.

I could hear car horns honking. I sigh. Today was going to be long. I wrap a towel around my body. As I walk out, I noticed something new. My eyes widened.

My dear, Could you please wear this today? I had something special planned. I thought that you would like this, and maybe the . . . headdress along with it will spike some interest.

Underneath the note, there was a long, green and silver-laced dress. The sleeves were simply straps that hung on one’s shoulders.

Peeking above the top of the dress was a headband-crown-thing with Loki’s horns. Basically a more feminine version of his helmet, but not a helmet? It wasn’t gold, but silver. The top was missing.

What was he planning?

I glared at the fabric. It wasn’t something I would wear usually. . . . I debated in my head, but it was at least an excuse not to put on pants, today. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the dress, and started dressing.

***

I looked at myself in the mirror evilly. Loki seemed to know what would look good. Drat. I peered around the apartment. Where were my shoes? I looked in the spot where I left them; where my cat, Jingle, might have batted them. Nowhere.

Green satin heels sat by the door. I growled. Loki! I huffed and slipped my only options on, surprised immediately. They were comfortable. Like wearing pillows without the bulk.

“For the love of my socks,” I mutter. “Who told him?” I grabbed the stupid crown thingie as I made way to the stupid door. As I grabbed the handle, my hair flew into a beautiful hairstyle. I growled. Something told me he expected me to wear the horned crown.

I set it on my head, irritated. I couldn’t even each the top of the horns’ curve. As soon as I thought the words, the whole thing changed size to be a perfect fit. This, too, was comfortable.

He got a head start on the spoiling.

I finally turned the knob and made my way into the hallway. The neighbors weren’t out, so I didn’t get any weird looks. I held my breath as I went down to exit the building, peeking out the window only to see the bright sun. I was hoping for rain, maybe to muss my hair.

Not only was the sun out, but I saw a horse’s tail flick impatiently. Gold and green. I swallowed and walked outside. To see him.

Loki POV

No, I didn’t have to wear my armor today. I didn’t have to go and pick (Y/N) up from the apartments, either. I didn’t have to bring a horse, or buy her things. But I did. I did it, anyway.

Perhaps she had forgotten about today’s importance. Or, even better, she remembered, and I could fluster her as much as I liked. I knew that she might have dreamt about this when she was younger, or must have known someone who had.

Today, I was not just simply Loki of Asgard. I was Prince Loki, Son of King Odin. I grinned down at (Y/N), hoping my face wasn’t red from her beauty. “Hello, darling. A little bird told me that today was a special day.”

I slid off my horse, bowing down with a smirk. She folded her arms and pouted. I rose, kissing her hand. “Happy birthday, my princess.” I grinned at the mortal girl. She pulled her hand away.

“That’s not fair. I didn’t want to be celebrated,” she growled. She shook her head. “This isn’t fair. I didn’t ask for—”

“I rescued you from the others, dear. I’m your Prince Charming for the day.” I take her hand again as I bring her toward my horse. She flushed. I beamed. I leant in and whispered, “Or I’ll be your bad boy, if that’s more your thing.” She shoved me, rolling her eyes.

“Stop it,” she huffs. She turned to the horse. “How am I going to get up  onto . . . ?” I lifted her, and she yelped. She climbed onto him side-saddle. I smiled excitedly.

“Today shall be wonderful,” I vow, climbing on next to her. She wrapped her arms tightly around my waist. I was trying to make a scene, having the entire street celebrate with me. I saw some girls gape in jealousy, some men, too. I smirked in victory. My princess, I thought. Mine. My success made me giddy, but because of an opposite cause. I could tell they were staring at her, not me.

I think it was the fact that the was not only seen as I saw her, but I didn’t have to share her.

I told the horse to move, feeling (Y/N) grip tighter. I chuckled, turning so I could see her out of the corner of my eye. “Haven’t you rode before?” She shook her head, seeming to be panicked. “Don’t worry, darling. I would never let you fall.”

I made way down to the park, making sure to get some of my brother’s friends to see our wonderful lady by my side. He said they would be by that coffee shop, Avenger Beans. As we passed, I caught a brief flash of Thor’s thoughts. He was admiring my lady, with some death threats directed toward me. He was jealous, too? Glorious.

“Loki, look, it’s Thor!” (Y/N) giggled. She waved. Thor waved back. I rolled my eyes. Thor . . . always the ladies’ choice. I looked back at (Y/N), thinking about being nice to my brother for once. Maybe my princess would smile more.

“Would you like to say hello?” I ask. She shook her head, her face dark at my suggestion. My heart skipped a beat. “Why not?” I press, arching a brow. I puckered my lips.

“I’m spending my birthday with my Prince Charming?” She said it like it was a question, or stating the obvious. I felt my face grow hot, the corners of my mouth moving to my ears. She giggled again. She was probably humoring me. But there was a possibility that she meant it. . . .

“You’re so easily amused,” she says. (Y/N) was wrong, but I didn’t tell her that. She was only of the only things (and people) I smiled for.

I watched as Thor glared at me. It felt nice to have claim to something he wanted just as badly as I did. (I didn’t just want her, I loved her.) I sat up a little higher than before, now that I could see his uncomfortable expression. This girl chose me, I thought with a realization. My heart beat hard.

“Where do you want to go, dear?” I asked. She pointed to Central Park. I looked back at her and grinned. She did too, but belatedly realized what I was up to. I bundled the horse’s reigns in my hands. Her eyes went wide as my lips tugged into a maniac’s smile.

“No, no, no, no!” she protested, but not in time. I snapped the reigns, and the horse ran. She laughed, holding on tightly. “Too fast!” I shook my head. She gripped my shoulders. My cape flapped as we sped by. She latched on to me.

“Never!” I laughed. “One day, you and I will ride on the steeds of Asgard! Much, much faster.” She held on more fondly at the mention of One day. Perhaps she felt the same way that I did. She rested her head on my shoulder.

“You make it sound like I’ll marry you,” she said to me, her breath tickling my ear. She kissed my earlobe. I gave her a cheeky grin.

“Nothing is stopping you!” I laugh. She turned that dark, blushy color.  I beamed. “If I proposed right now, what would you do?”

“I haven’t heard one, so we’ll never know,” she replied. It was my turn to go red. I reigned in the horse, slowing us down. I slid off again, an idea coming to my brain. “Loki?”

“If I proposed right now, what would you do?” I asked again, serious instead of joking. She swallowed. Her thoughts were clear to me. What if this is a joke? Would he laugh if I told him I’d say yes? My heart beat rapidly. She would say yes?

“What would you do?” I ask again, desperate to hear the words from her mouth.

“I would say yes,” she starts, seeing my my face light up. “But I’d tell you I would want to hear you say how you feel about me first”—she slid off, too, into my arms—“get down on one knee”—(Y/N) wrapped her arms around my neck—“and pledge your heart to me like a fairytale bad boy prince.” She smirked at me.

I took her hands. I sunk to one knee. “(Y/N),” I start, doing exactly as she said, “I love you. I promise you my heart for as long as I live. I’d kill, as well as save, a planet for you. Will you be my princess, (Y/N)? Will you marry me?” I grinned as she tried hard not to laugh. Though we were both serious, this whole manner was unforgettable.

She looked around at the crowd of people who were watching. She blinked back happy tears. Had I truly made her cry? She took a deep breath, trying to speak, but ended up laughing and sobbing. She just nodded. “Yeah.”

I kiss her hands. “I don’t have a ring but—” I try to say, but she stopped me.

“The horns,” she joked. “Engagement crown.” She giggled, pulling me up. I wipe her eyes. She kissed me, standing on her toes. “How about this? It’s semi-official until you get a ring.”

“Excellent,” I agree. “Engaged to be engaged.” I kissed her forehead. “We only have so long, princess. Let’s hurry.” I lift her back onto the horse, following suite.

“Where did you get this idea?” she questioned, obviously about her birthday. “Why did you decide to do it this way?” I brought our horse into the gateway of the park as I thought about my answer.

“Nat said something about almost every little girl wanting to have a prince at least once. I kind of became obsessed with making a point.” I cleared my throat. “It was truly just a dare, though,” I lie. She nodded.

“Suuuure. And the silver?” she asked, kissing my neck. Was she distracting on purpose now?

“Just our colors, love. Silver and gold. Green to match.” I kissed her hand, getting down, and helping her as well. “I’ll park the horse.”

***

Your POV

I was still in the same outfit as before by the time we walked into the party. (It seemed there was no way of escaping it after all.) Tony walked in, beaming at Loki and I.

“You dressed up the birthday girl?” he asked, looking me over. Loki stood a little closer. It made me uneasy to be the very center of attention.

“Indeed. I also took her for a ride around the city.” Loki wrapped his arm around me. I felt my cheeks warm again. He kissed one of them before whispering something into Tony’s ear. His eyes widened.

“You—?” Loki nodded, cutting him off.

Tony quickly turned his focus on me, putting a box in my hand, pulling me by my other. “Come on, kid. I have everyone here now, so I need you to be the the guest of honor like you’re supposed to.” He drug me out to the living room where the other Avengers were, along with a mountain of presents. I swallowed. I looked behind me.

Loki didn’t follow. I frowned. I tried to look farther, but Tony turned me back to facing forward. “So how’s Reindeer Games?” Tony mutters, smiling. I flushed.

“He’s fine,” I squeaked. He led me over to the huge group of people. I moved as slowly as I could. “Tony did you really have to do this?” I whisper furiously.

“Yes,” he said. “Now go have fun.” An element was off, like he was hiding something. I vaguely wondered what it was. Was it what Loki said to him?

----

“Open the next one,” Nat said happily. A book, definitely. From Nat and Clint. Okay. I ripped the paper. I grinned, against my own morals about books. Bruce had gotten me a necklace. Tony had bought me a dress. Thor made me a knife.

“Romeo and Juliet?” I gasped. “Thank you!” I set it on the other presents I got. I looked behind me. I had heard a sound. “Does anyone know where Loki went?”

“NO.” Tony said that way too fast. I narrow my eyes. Thor was coughing on his coffee. Something was definitely up. The others looked at the two. I blindly accepted the next present from Nat’s hands, my eyes never leaving Iron Man and the God of Thunder.

“Okayyy . . . ,” I said. “Who is this from?” I was told by Sam.

We spent maybe another two hours doing presents before Loki walked in. He seemed nervous. I smiled at him as he sat down. My lover wrapped his arms around me. “Sorry for the delay. I had some business to take care of, princess.”

***Hours Later***

Loki POV

“Loki!” (Y/N) whined with happiness. “I said no more gifts.” She hung onto me. I chuckled, kissing her happy face. I tickle her back with my fingers. It had been several hours since we left the party, even more since we left the park. I had made sure not to ruin her lovely face before as I kissed it all over.

“Well, this one can slip by your order, my love,” I tell her. She sighed.

“Fine,” she spat. She snuggled into my bare blue chest, pulling up the blanket, peeking up at me. I smiled softly, tucking her hair out of her face. “What is it?” she asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Well, while Tony and Thor kept you busy, I went back to Asgard for an hour or so and was able to get my mother’s ring, and—”

“You what?” She sat up, eyes wide. I was afraid I had upset her. She covered her mouth in shock. “Your mother’s?” I nodded slowly.

“Yes,” I whisper, easing her back down. “It was the only thing I could think of that would be worthy for you.” She wrapped her arms around my neck lovingly, suddenly. I made a noise of surprise.

“Oh, Loki!” she cried, kissing my face. I kissed back, rolling on to my side. She kisses me so passionately.

“Would you like to see it?” I ask. She nodded. I took it out. She gaped.

“Loki, it’s beautiful,” she whispers. I slipped it on her finger.

“I love you,” I say.

“You’re my Prince Charming,” she giggled.

[hoaxsen]

| angst has been coming to me easy now and idk how to feel about that.

| tw; character death, in depth talk of death, mentions of blood and other gruesome parts, season three spoilers.

| word count; 1.8k.

It was all over, spreading like a plague inside the walls upon their arrival. The victory of Wall Maria, along with the near extinction of the Scouts. How many supplies were lost during it? How much destruction was there while it all went down? Does anyone have a true number on how many bodies were being carried back on those flatbed carts after that expedition? 

They were mostly parts of bloodied and mangled things, some weren't even able to be called a body. More like a massive piles of mixed dirt, debris and whatever part of the human body there could be. One hundred and ninety nine people, turned into one enormous jigsaw puzzle that anyone has ever seen. How many carts were used for that, and which cart did this specific body rest upon? 

This body held the features of bright blue eyes, that the captain of the Scouts could sometimes find himself staring into for hours on end. Unknowingly at that. Blonde hair just swept back and kept so neat with its undercut. Sometimes Levi wonders if it was soft to the touch, it doesn't look to be hard, or dirty. Just right, minus those brows. If anything there were times where Levi wanted to trim the blonde bricks of hair off Erwin's face himself. 

Now, days like that will never come. For the sole purpose, of Erwin Smith being deceased. Giving his life up to his stupid cause and dream, this isn't what Levi meant by plundering your dream and lead those crying brats to hell. Was it selfish of him to think that Erwin might come back alive for him? It was, wasn't it? The man having to live through this shit as the leader, making gambles that no one knew how the hell they paid off. Let's not forget about the cadets and soldiers lost along the way in his gambles. A devil among men, though it was Levi wanting to be the one to raise hell right now. Bring a darker hell to the one on this very Earth for the fact that he chose to revive Armin instead of Humanity's Hope. 

Cold, and hardened steel grey hues watched as his body was pulled away, riding alongside on his own horse with this cart. Levi felt only himself at fault, what if he did revive Erwin? Despite the small specks of rocks, falling out and shredded intestines, and lack of life in the blonde's eyes, how would he look taking on the power of the colossal titan? Would he have looked the same as the treacherous Bertholdt, or better? If anything, he'd be alive right now. . .fighting a war once more in this hell. Yes, it was selfish, but Levi Ackerman had his reasons to be selfish in a time like this. Bringing back Erwin instead of Armin wasn't just going to be for humanity, it was also going to be for his own desires. To stop toying with the feelings the ravenette has for the blonde, to stop the daily lies about his ' small crush ' being just a phase. 

The captain never even got to make good on his promise before the commander passed. Wanting so hard and bad to end the Beast Titan, to make him feel the pain Erwin did before his final moments. Hopefully that chance comes back for him some other time. How badly Levi needs it, it'd only be fitting since Erwin gave up his dream for the wall retake to even have happened and succeed. 

For all Levi could do now, was regret and hope that Erwin's funeral would bring him into a small state of piece. Since the ex-commander was already in a permanent state of his own, never to be disturbed. The Ackerman slowly starts to wonder to himself, which kind of suit would really bring out a dead man's eyes? For blue, it had to be a subtle white, right? An ashen grey? Whatever color it was going to be, Levi knew he'd detest it. Knowing it'll be the final suit he sees Erwin in. 

Fast forward a bit to the lowering of the old Scouts' commander into the ground, Levi stayed behind a little ways after the ceremony. Standing before Erwin's grave, a short sigh leaving him as he placed a hand on Erwin's tombstone. 

Erwin Smith 

xxxx - xxxx 

Humanity's Beacon of Hope.

The words Levi read over, and over, and over again. Humanity's Hope, snuffed out a little ways too soon. Levi just had to wake up and face the music, it was bound to happen one day or another. He just wishes that day came a little later than this. Brushing his hand over the words, better now to say this before he keeps it inside for too long. He already regrets not saying this to him when he was alive. 

" How many of these have we attended for our fallen? Now look at you, dumbass. Right there with them, tell Petra I said hi when you see her. " 

His last chance to say this all know, because whatever God out there knows that Levi wouldn't visit Erwin's grave again after this. For the small grudge he'd hold against himself for using the syringe on Armin. 

" I followed you into the fire, made it out with a few scrapes. Though you were burned, still had the guts to carry on more bravely than me. . .even make a choice with that odd line. ' What if there is humanity outside the walls. ' Or some shit like that, and then I realized, and knew. . .that was how you were plundering your dreams and leading those crying brats to hell. " 

Unbeknownst to the captain, he wasn't alone. Just standing from afar, was another grieving heart. Armin Artlet, another soul wanting to say an unspoken peace to their old commander. But ended up seeing Levi there before him. 

" It's not fair you know, Erwin. Or that just might be me being selfish right now, yeah sounds like it. A biased opinion, since I fucking loved you and didn't have the guts to say it. Wanna know why? Cause I'm a coward. Since people I love keep leaving me in ways like this, death. Am I that detestable that death is the only way out? Gotta be, shitty way to go if you ask me, but probably your only way. Call it a curse, I guess. Sadly shit like this happens in the fucked world. I didn't even want to use it on Artlet, but you made your choice. So I had to make mine, fucking bastard. " 

Now that was a surprise to the little eavesdropper in the back, covering his mouth with his hand to not make a sound. Azure eyes bugging out of his head as the captain droned on. Armin himself wasn't even sure why he was saved, wouldn't Erwin have been a better pick? The power of the titan wasted on him, that's how it sounded. On the bright side, the colossal titan was in their arsenal with Eren's titan. Just with the wrong user in Artlet's mind. 

" It's not fair, you asshole. You get your peace, and leave me behind in this hell with a bunch of brats! Yes, they can pull their own weight. But you're not leading them anymore, instead it's gonna be someone else who can't live up to your name. All because I got emotional and saved that runt, when I knew, even with Hanji, that you were the better pick! A massive fuck up on my end, but then a small lived victory right? We have another titan ready to fight for us when needed. But I want you here! It's not fair, you trusted me to do the right thing with that weird liquid, and I don't know if I did! I promised myself that I'd follow you wherever, why did you have to go somewhere I can't go yet?! You and your stupid gambles, well make one with the devil down there and win, come back goddamn it! " 

At this point, Levi was screaming to a grave on the verge of tears. From standing to dropping on his knees, the turned up dirt from a freshly dug hole in the ground was staining his pants. Giving him the feelings of touching the underground floors, though this time he didn't care. Fighting back an attack of tears, his hands digging into the soil and gripping it. Dirt being trapped in his fingernails, a fierce look on his face with a few stray falling tears from his eyes. 

" I promise you, I'll make that sonva bitch pay. Along with aiding in to see that your final goal, your final dream is fulfilled. Even if I have to  die to make that happen. " 

It was a footstep, and the use of sharp senses that brought Levi out of his moment. Spinning around quick as could be, just to be met with a crying, tear stained face of one of his cadets. This was Levi's moment of vulnerability, being seen by Armin as if privacy wasn't a thing. Though now, the man couldn't hold it against the boy, dusting off himself to be free of the dirt and grime. Levi sent Armin a small glare, no words have been spoken yet, and not one really knew what to say. 

" Captain . . . I'm sorry, but you should have us--. " 

" Can it brat, I dunno how much you heard, and I hate repeating myself. But I'll make an exception, Erwin made his choice. I acted on it, now you might have to step up to bat. " 

Levi's words drew a small gasp from Armin, making him want to roll his eyes. 

" No one can live up to be Erwin, but I trust that you know what you're doing. Don't make me regret saving you now. " 

" Y-Yes sir! But can I ask a question? " 

That made a brow raise on Levi's face, a sign for Armin to carry on with what he was saying. The boy had to take a deep breath to even get the first word out. It almost made Levi scoff at a time like this. 

" Y-You l-love Commander Erwin, sir? Is-Is that true? " 

The stuttering fool really had the balls to ask. The captain almost looked impressed, but at the same time angered somewhat. 

" Yeah, I loved him, Artlet. A main factor playing on in why I wanted to use the syringe on him. But something happened during it, like I said. Don't make me regret it. " 

All he got was a frantic nod from the other blonde, even a salute for some reason. Levi responded with his own nod back, figuring now that his time alone with Erwin was up. Looking behind him at that grave, he sighed, his eyes narrowing somewhat. 

' Don't worry, Erwin. You won't be along for long, I said I'd follow you right? Into that same fire I'll soon be going. ' 

He whispered out, making his way to leave now. Going as far as to pat a startled Armin on the shoulder. His own line echoing inside his head to help cope with this, just tweaked a bit this time. 

' Plunder all your dreams, and lead those crying brats to victory. In his name. ' 

[dented-nado]

Well I mean, since you asked for requests - “If you want me, come and get me.” Maybe with the trinity? I can picture Bruce saying it as Diana and Clark try and force him to go to bed like a normal person 😂 or you know, whatever strikes your fancy!

[[HELL YES. Bruce is slightly ooc because he’s incredibly sleep deprived and I saw it as an opportunity for him to act a little loopy lol. That’s how I am at least when I’m very sleep deprived, so pulling from personal experience here. Enjoy!!]]

“It’s only been one night. Give me a break.”

“Bruce, Honey, I know its hard to tell in Gotham, especially in the winter, but it’s been several nights you haven’t been getting any sleep.” Diana pulled the chair Bruce was sitting in away from the bat-computer against Batman’s wishes.

Bruce was sure she and Clark were exaggerating, it couldn’t have been that long. Besides, he wasn’t even tired, not even a little bit.

“I’m fine, you two can stop clucking over me like hens, thanks.”

“I’ll cluck all I want when it comes to your sleeping schedule mister.” Clark declared firmly.

“Especially not after you convinced me that some humans can be ‘totally fine’ not sleeping for several days and making me feel like I wasn’t quite so weird for a split second before that all came crashing down.” Clark crossed his arms, pouting just a little bit. He didn’t seem actually that annoyed but…

Admittedly, he still felt a little bit bad about that.

“I know… I lied when I said some humans. I meant me, specifically, because I’m fine, I’m great, I’m good, I’m bursting with youthful vigor now both of you let me work. There’s crime afoot.” He declared, trying to pull his chair back forward, only to frown as he realized Diana still had an iron grip on it, so instead he stood up and walked back to the computer instead.

“Bruce, your being ridiculous… and you said "There’s crime afoot” out loud. You’re tired.“ Diana said exasperated with a hand on her head.

"Also, no offense sweet bean… but you look like you’ve been through hell, you have probably the most intense looking bags under your eyes I’ve ever seen.” Clark said, trying to be gentle but serious.

“I look fucking awesome.” Bruce protested in annoyance, not even sure what he was really doing on the computer outside of looking busy. “You’ve heard Harv, I’m a fucking pretty boy. And I feel fan-god-damn-tastic.”

Clark and Diana gave each other a look that said “Yep, he’s lost it.” That Bruce didn’t much appreciate.

He forgot what he was even doing, his new ultimate goal was to not go to sleep no matter what because he was f i n e dammit.

“Bruce, please come to bed. Besides, you know, we’ll be right there with you, we miss you.” Clark pleaded, giving Bruce very tempting puppy dog eyes.

“We can spend a little time tiring you out if you want Bat.” Diana said, soothingly rubbing his shoulder.

Tempting. But he was the god damn batman, so… “No, no bribing me doing the horizontal tango, I have a job to do.”

“The horizontal…” Diana began.

“T a n g o. Bruce, pl ea se , you need to sleep.” Clark finished.

“Why can’t I use creative words without you two thinking it means I’m tired, hmm? Clark’s called me a bean before, I am but a bean, let me live my bean life.” He momentarily felt a little dizzy and a little like he was loosing track of time and space, but regardless he made his way to the bat-mobile to go… somewhere…. who knows.

“Oh-ho-ho no, absolutely not, you are not driving like this.” Clark said immediately super-speeding in front of Bruce acting as a big warm teddy bear-like wall between Bruce and his car.

“I can do what I want. I’m rich, I’m bi, I’m batman, and I fight crime. Now ”scoot your boot.“ as they say where you come from.” Bruce said, trying to move around Clark who was so freaking fast for some reason.

“I have never said scoot your boot.” Clark said with raised eyebrows.

“Really?” Bruce asked somewhat deliriously. “Seems like a cowboy thing…” He  mumbled while moving the cowl up slightly so he could rub at his eye.

“…Would you come to bed if I dressed like a cowboy?”

Tempting. But not even saving a horse and riding a cowboy could get him to give up on his current stubborn crusade that he couldn’t even remember why he had to be on so bad… why had he been up in the first place??

“…No, so yeehaw your ass out of my  w a y .”

“No way, and your yee-haw-ing your a… s…… booty up to bed now,  you’re completely delirious.”

“Fine… maybe I don’t know what I’m doing, or where I’m going, or why right now, but I’m the world’s greatest detective, I’ll figure it out.” Bruce grumbled in annoyance.

He started walking back to his computer since he apparently couldn’t go to his car, but when he tried to sit back down he nearly yelped as it seemed Diana had thought ahead, so he had sat down right into her lap and now her very strong muscular arms were now wrapped around his waist.

“Gotcha.”

“Fu c k.” Bruce mumbled.

This was quite the predicament Batman had gotten himself into! Would he be able to figure out how to escape the strong arms of the Wonder Woman? Tune in next time, same bat-time, same bat-channel!

… Bruce squirmed for a moment grumbling before bowing his head.

“Fine… you’ve won, let’s go to bed…” Bruce conceded.

“That’s more like it” Diana said with a sigh as she gingerly let go.

That was when Bruce took his chance to escape with a triumphant and slightly evil laugh as he took off into the depths of the bat-cave.

“BruCE!” Diana chided.

Bruce just continued cackling, dropping a smoke bomb as he completely forgot that would do nothing against Clark’s super vision as he decided to head for the bat-plane. Good thing he had several bat-themed vehicles.

“Bruce get back here!” He heard Clark call sternly.

“You’re going to get yourself hurt!” Diana yelled.

“If you want me, come and get me!” Bruce taunted with an incredibly delirious smile, not realizing he was about to run into a wall.

He would have, if Clark had not been in front of him again in an instant, causing Bruce to collide with Clark’s chest rather than a rock hard wall. Clark scooped Bruce up into his arms despite the Bat’s protesting and flew him back over to where Diana had her arms crossed and was tapping her foot.

She softly flicked the tip of Bruce’s nose to get his attention and to stop flailing. “Now are you going to be a good bat and change out of the suit yourself, or are we going to have to rip you out of it kicking and screaming?”

Bruce frowned, before getting another idea and perking up slightly. “…There are other ways of getting me out of it~” He said putting on his flirtiest Brucie voice.

“Nice try B, but you blew your chance at the 'horizontal tango’ when you decided to bolt like that.” Clark said looking down at Bruce now with his own smirk on his face.

“Aw, nuts…” Bruce grumbled in surrender, going limp as Clark set him down, pulling off the cowl as he knew he was defeated.

“Your not getting any nuts B, keep up.” Clark said absolutely delighted.

Diana rolled her eyes. “You pick now to make a joke like that Kansas?”

Clark grinned. “Judging by how sleepy he is he won’t even remember that I made my first ever joke like that in front of him.”

“How devilish of you.” Diana commented with an amused smile.

Bruce grumbled as he stripped off the rest of the batsuit. “I wanted nuts though.” He mumbled. “nuts sound good. I like nuts… especially cashews.”

“Your right, he’s definitely not going to remember.” Diana commented, taking Bruce’s hand once he was down to the black undershirt and thin pants he wore under the suit.

Clark put his hand on Bruce’s back as the moved out of the cave. “Come on sleepy-head, off to an adventure called 'bed-time’.”

“But I wanted to fightttt…” Bruce slurred slightly.

“You can fight exaustion by sleeping.” Diana suggested.

“I’ll kick exaust-ian’s a s s.”

“That’s the spirit.” Clark laughed as he gingerly lifted the incredibly tired bat onto his bed before going to get ready for bed himself along with Diana.

“What are we going to do with that man?” Diana whispered, unable to help a small smile, after they had changed into their sleep clothes and came back to find Bruce completely zonked out , snoring slightly with his mouth hanging open.

“We’ll force him to have a normal sleep schedule yet.” Clark whispered, getting into bed and pulling Bruce close in order to spoon him.

Diana joined in on the other side, snuggling Bruce’s head against her chest and putting her arm around both him and Clark as she got settled.

“Our new mission?” Diana suggested.

“Our new mission, will kick ’'exaust-ian’s” butt.“ Clark whispered with a grin.

Diana had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.

"You’ll make a joke about Bruce wanting 'nuts’ but you’ll never say the word "ass”, will you?“ She asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nope.”

They shared a quiet chuckle before settling in to fall asleep themselves, their very tired, but at least now very asleep bat cuddled between them.

[mtraki]

 “They don’t have any riding skirts in stock…” Catherine explained, doing her best to hide her disappointment.  The tailor apologized again, saying something about shipment schedules, but Jenny’s attention was fixed on her beautiful and proper friend.

 “That’s a shame,” She said without inflection, then shrugged, hearing Karen and Mary-Beth giggling in the dressing room, “... Really, Catherine, I don’t know why you bother with those silly riding skirts anyway.”

 “I only have the one petticoat, my dear, and it won’t support riding astride, even if I were to have a skirt that might-- which, I remind you, I do not.”

 Jenny snorted, “So buy some trousers.”

 The tailor stared at her.  Catherine stared at her. Jenny gave the tailor a dirty look, making clear it was wiser he find his own business to mind, and he scuttled over to fuss with one of the hanging outfits.

 “Jenny… I’m a lady…”

 “So?  Your legs split in the middle like everyone else, don’t they?”

 “Well, yes, of course--”

 “--So they’ll fit in trousers, which, as it turns out, were made with ridin’ horses in mind.”

 “You cannot be serious…”

 The pale-eyed lady looked at her, then around at the tailor shop, the primary reason they’d come all the way to Blackwater, despite the risk, and then back at Jenny, “...It’s… highly unorthodox, my dear. A woman of my status wearing trousers… it would draw a lot of attention…”

 Sneering, Jenny teased, “You’re right.  Maybe you ought ask yer daddy first?”

 Catherine startled like she’d been slapped, “What!--"

 “-- Or your man--”

 Straightening, the lady’s hands went to her hips and her voice turned ice cold and sharp, “--I don’t need anyone’s permission to wear anything, Miss Kirk, let us have that understanding first and foremost!”

 “That’s more like it!” The other woman laughed, “Now come on, just try a pair on!  I’m sure you’ll like ‘em once you do…”

 Slowly lowering her hackles, Catherine sighed and shook her head, “... Oh alright…”

 The tailor had her measurements already, so despite any opinions on the matter he might have (which he wisely kept to himself) he provided a selection of trousers in various colors, fabrics, and styles in sizes that would best fit her (with minimal alterations).  Leaving the pale-eyed lady to her decisions, he gratefully left her to assist Mary-Beth with the vast selection of shawls.

 Jenny started to step away also, apparently intrigued by the new hats on display, when Catherine called, “... I just realized… I don’t think I’ve ever seen-- Jenny do you wear trousers?”

 “I own a pair I’ve worn once or twice.  Does it make a difference?”

 The lady gave her dark-eyed friend a look, “Here you stand, taunting me about trousers when you hardly wear yours…?  It isn’t kind to make fun of me, Miss Kirk.”

 Sighing her exasperation, the outlaw said, “I ain’t, either.  Do as you like, Miss Fancy! Wear your tore-up ridin’ skirt until you can buy a new one.  Or buy a less fancy petticoat, a new crinoline, and a skirt to wear. Or go nekkid for all I give a damn!”

 They looked at each other a few moments, then Catherine said, “... Why do these have leather sewn on the backside?” holding up a pair of warm brown work pants.

 Jenny laughed, “Oh, those’re padded work pants.  I think the leather is so you stick to the saddle better.”

 Laughing also, the pale-eyed lady said, “... I might want to consider them, then… it might help save me from falling off another time before the year is up.”

 “If anything can.” The other teased.

 “How unkind!” But Catherine laughed still.

 “You gonna try ‘em on?  Won’t be long before them Callander boys get bored-- or too drunk-- and start makin’ trouble.”

 “Yes… Let me try these few, then…”

 Karen stopped them on their way to the dressing room, on her way out from trying on a new blouse that had caught her eye.

 “... Miss, what’re you doin’ with those trousers?”

 Jenny ushered Catherine forward again, “She’s gon’ try ‘em on.  What you think she’s doin’? Keepin’ ‘em company?”

 “... But they’re trousers…”

 “That’s what I said!” Catherine laughed as Jenny pushed her into the dressing room.

 Reaching over, Karen grabbed the curtain before the other outlaw could close it, and pushed her way in, “This I have to see!”

 With a scoff and roll of her eyes, the pale-eyed lady handed her selections to the other two women, “You might as well make yourselves useful, then, if you insist on teasing me the entire time…”

 The blonde ended up handing the pair of trousers she was holding to Jenny to help Catherine out of her coat and riding skirt, “You gonna wear these trousers with your corset?”

 Jenny burst out laughing at the open bafflement on the fancy lady’s face.

 “I… I hadn’t planned on taking it-- should I not?”

 “You and Grimshaw are the only ones who wear one every day,” Karen told her, “Hell, I’m only wearing one because we’re in town and not at the saloon!”

 “Trousers waist ain’t gonna work well with your corset if it comes down proper…” Jenny warned between laughs.

 Catherine sighed, muttering something in one of her foreign languages, “...Well… alright, help me take it off, then… If I’m going to scandalize the town and the camp, I might as well do it right the first time.”

 “Oh, we’ll call the papers,” Jenny rolled her eyes, “‘Miss Catherine’s got her tits out’…”

 Karen snorted laughter, “The men’ll like that!”

 “I’m still wearing my combinations and blouse, thank you!”

 The blouse did have to come off first, to facilitate the removal of the corset.  Jenny and Karen both admired her combinations. Karen announced an intention to get some of her own some day, while Jenny shrugged and said she didn’t have a desire for ‘lacy fancy things’.

 Catherine grinned as she pulled her blouse back on, “Maybe Mister Summers has a desire for lacy fancy things?”

 “Did Mister van der Linde?” Jenny needled back.

 “Yes.” Catherine shrugged, “As you might have guessed.”

 “What about Mister Morgan?”

 Shrugging, Catherine reached for the first pair of trousers, the padded work pants, “I don’t know.  I suppose we’ll have to ask him.”

 Karen and Jenny exchanged a look before the blonde outlaw blurted, “You mean he didn’t see in Tumbleweed?”

 Before the lady could answer, the curtain was suddenly drawn aside, and Mary-Beth was standing there, “I had wondered what you ladies--Miss Catherine are you wearing trousers?!”

 Karen dragged her in and closed the curtain again while Catherine rolled her eyes and sighed long-suffering.

 “Almost… certainly not enough for the public eye, Miss Gaskill…”

 “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…  But… trousers?”

 Finishing with the donning and fastening, the pale-eyed lady regarded herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands against her hips, turning this way and that, “...What do you think, Jenny?”

 “You look fine.  How do they feel?”

 “Strange.” She looked at the blonde in the mirror, “... What about you, Miss Jones?”

 “They look alright, I guess,” Was the answer, then she grinned, “Nice to know you got a bit of a rump there and it ain’t all crinoline and paddin’...”

 “Not all of us are blessed with your commanding, womanly physique, my dear.” Catherine smiled, “Mary-Beth?”

 “... I think the boys are goin’ to have some things to say…” She answered, “... Not to mention Miss Grimshaw.”

 “... I’ll deal with that when the time comes, I suppose.”

 Jenny waved the pairs she was still holding, “You trying these on or am I just holdin’ them for show?”

 “No, no… Here let me…” Catherine laughed as she worked the button-front, “... You think I’d know as often as I’ve done this for men… but it really is easier to get in and out of…”

 Once again assisting, Karen grunted, “... Maybe.  But doin’ a necessary is gonna be a pain… Men can just open and pull out.  Yer gonna go bare arsed to make water.”

 The lady blinked, apparently not realizing herself until it was said, “... That won’t be pleasant in the cold at all…”

 The ladies laughed together, and Catherine put on the next pair of trousers, this one a dove gray pair of wide-legged pants.  Jenny didn’t like them, but could tell right away that Catherine very much did from her expression and the way she held herself straighter as she turned to admire them in the mirror.

 “You want to get those, then?” She asked, wrinkling her nose.

 “No…” Catherine started to open them again.

 “No?  You liked those!  I could tell-- are they expensive?” Mary-Beth cried, “I can lend you a bit of money…  You looked so nice in them, really!”

 “They’re lovely,” The lady said, “but not as practical as the other pair.”

 “Get the ones you like,” Jenny told her, “These will do fine.”

 “I’ll get those others.” Announced Miss Schofield stubbornly.

 Karen looked at Mary-Beth and said, “... Keep your money, girl.  We’ll just let Arthur know…”

 “Oh!”

 Catherine looked over, “... Let Arthur know what…?”

 “Oh, nothing,” The blonde grinned, “just how you was mooning over these pants you didn’t see fit to get for yourself.”

 “... I don’t understand.”

 “Yes you do.” Jenny told her, tugging on the sleeve of her new coat hung on the wall hook.  The one Arthur had bought for her. It was a nice coat-- certainly worth some good money, with thick fur on the inside and around the lapels and collar.

 The reaction was immediate: Catherine flushed a dark pink from her hairline all the way down to what could be seen of her decolletage, “You will not!”

 Mary-Beth giggled.  Karen and Jenny couldn’t help but cackle wickedly.

 “There’s nothing wrong with letting a man treat you now and again, Catherine…”

 “I’ve found that very much depends on the man, Karen…”

 Batting her eyelashes, the freckled brunette said, “Oh, but Arthur’s a good sort…”

 Jenny rolled her eyes.  Karen scoffed, “Grumpy sort… but he does try to take care of us girls, I suppose…”

 The lady frowned at the three of them, “... I’ll buy these two then, if only so you don’t try and put any ideas into anyone’s head that he should get them for me.”

 “Fine,” Jenny laughed, “Is that you decided, then?  Can I go look at hats now?”

 “By all means,” Catherine answered, “Before the tailor wonders what we’re plotting in here…”

 “‘Ent roight fer a lass t’ware trousers.” Mac professed with all the blunt sagacity that could be expected of him at the bottom of as many bottles as he was.

 “My dear, Mister Callander,” The pale-eyed lady sighed, “where were you ten minutes ago when I was being harangued by these brigands?”

 “Wot?”

 “Nevermind,” Laughed Miss Jones as she sashayed herself over to the bar next to the drunken outlaw, “I wouldn’t take any advice from this fool.”

 “You hush, wench!” Scolded the man, “‘Ent roight, oi say.”

 To be fair, the nature of the looks Catherine was getting were a little different from the usual.  Though she was often turning every head in any place with her looks and gracious mannerisms, it was clear her current apparel was giving them something to chew over they didn’t seem to much like the taste of.

 “... If it’s all the same to you,” She said quietly, “... I’d rather we were on our way.”

 That Mac didn’t answer, and his brother hadn’t even looked over a second time from his poker game in the corner, made clear that they weren’t for leaving any time soon.

 Jenny didn’t often turn down a drink, but she was eager to get back to camp and see if Lenny had come back from his ride south, looking for leads. “Yeah, alright.  We’ll go, then. Miss Jones? Miss Gaskill?”

 “I’ll keep an eye on these two,” The blonde replied, waving over the bartender.

 Mary-Beth fidgeted a moment before letting out her breath, giving Catherine a hopeful look, “... I should head back too.  Miss Grimshaw wanted me earlier for something…”

 The lady was, as ever, quick to catch on, “Best come with us, then.  I’ll just have to let her know you were helping me.”

 Miss Kirk knew that they were betting on Susan’s good opinion of Miss Schofield to come through as it usually did-- the lady had a way with her, there could be no doubting-- but she didn’t put much stock in the old nan-goat’s ‘good opinion’.  Susan Grimshaw was a moody old bitch, and with the camp’s opinions turned against Catherine, Jenny suspected that the girls’ reliance on her to get them out of trouble would only get Catherine in more trouble.  Already she could hear the harsh voice cracking out about how ‘Miss Schofield fancies herself a lady with maids to help her spend up all their money’.

 Nevermind how the money had been earned by Catherine herself.

 Out by the hitching posts, the two more-experienced thieves mounted up while Catherine checked her leathers.  She’d grown even more strict about it since some mysterious incident where her latigo and one of the headpiece leathers of her bridle had needed replacing-- fortunately, more than one man in camp knew how to cut and stitch leather to suit, and there had been spare hide around.  Apparently finding everything in order, she too mounted up and they were on their way.

 “It is strange how that happened…” Miss Gaskill observed, “your bridle and your latigo…”

 Catherine shrugged, “Bad luck, I guess.”

 “Maybe,” Then the curly-haired brunette looked at her, “... How do your trousers feel in the saddle?”

 “... I’m not sure I want to say,” Was the answer with a grin, “as I’d rather not listen to Jenny’s ‘I told you so’s the whole ride back.”

 “Ha!  I did tell you so!  They ride nice, don’t they!”

 Susan had an earful for them when they got back.  Something must have happened, for she was in a temper, and could find pleasure in nothing.  Tilly had apparently rushed off in tears and was in hiding somewhere after being on the receiving end of the matron’s sharp tongue most of the day.  With new victims, she was quick to scold Jenny and Mary-Beth for being gone so long, for leaving Karen behind, for returning without the men, and for letting all the chores pile up.   Catherine quickly came to their defense, and though Susan quieted long enough to hear her, her hands were firmly on her hips and a scowl deep in her face.

 When Miss Schofield was finished, the camp boss informed her sharply that if she wanted to be treated like a proper lady, she ought to dress like one.  Laughing at this, Catherine said that wearing trousers didn’t make her less of a lady.

 “Ladies don’t wear such things.  You look foolish.  How can anybody take you seriously-- I don’t know how you can expect me to!”

 “Well,” Catherine smiled, “if the way I dress dictates my treatment, will you treat me like a man, Miss Grimshaw?”

 Mary-Beth slapped a hand over her own mouth.  Jenny didn’t bother and cackled loudly before catching sight of Lenny and heading over.  The old nan-goat was still gaping at Catherine’s retort.

 Behind her, Jenny heard Catherine call loudly in a sugary tone, “What do you think, Mister Morgan?  Do I still look fine?”

 From her peripheral, Jenny saw Arthur staring openly alongside Hosea where they had apparently been discussing something.  The big outlaw chuckled and shook his head, either bashful or embarrassed or both, “... Miss, you could be wearin’ a potato sack an’ still look fine…”

 “... Your idea?” Mister Summers was saying quietly, taking her hands with a smile, clearly hearing the victory in her laugh.

[swanqueeneverafter]

What Dreams May Come, Pt.27

Henry's Dreamscape. Kingdom of Valencia. The Bottle Yard. (Queen Madelena and Gareth enter the tavern in the middle of a brawl. Upon spotting their king and queen however, the patrons settle themselves.) Bearded Man: "Crown!" Queen Madelena: “So, how does this whole bar-fight thing work?” Gareth: “Well, usually, we have a pint or two. And then I catch someone looking at me, I insult his mother, and then away we go.” Queen Madelena: “Oh, good. Let's start. (Looks around:) Oh. What about him? He gave you a momentary glance.” Gareth: “Mm. Did he? (Walks over and shoves the man:) Oi! You got a problem?” Bald Man: “Uh, none at all, uh, Your Highness.” Queen Madelena: “Well, you should. King Gareth just called your mother a two-bit hussy.” Bald Man: “Oh, uh, right you are, My King! My mother is a hussy. In fact, she's the biggest hussy in the land.” Bald Man’s Mother: “Indeed, I am, your grace!” Man 2: (Stands:) “My mother sells herself, as well, Your Majesty.” Man 3: “Mine too! Filthiest woman in the whole red-candle district.” Man 4: “My father's a hussy!” (Soon all the patrons are shouting indistinctly. Annoyed, Gareth turns and leaves, Madelena following him out of the tavern.) Enchanted Forest. Past. (David and his faithful dog, Wilby, are walking through the woods on their way to Longbourn.) David: (Notices something in the dog’s mouth:) “What did you find, Wilby? A cup. Why don't you let me hold your treasure? Come on. We got to get to Longbourn before dark. (The dog whimpers and returns the way it came:) Wilby! Wilby! (Follows:) Wilby! Wilby! (Barking:) Wilby!” (The dog leads him to a wagon, standing alone in the forest.) Peddler: (Stepping out from behind a tree:) “Can I help you?” David: (Turns to face him:) “Oh, sorry to intrude. My dog got something into his head.” Peddler: “Say, that's my cup you have there. Went over a bump a while back and dropped it. I thought it was lost. Not good for a traveling merchant to be so careless with his goods.” David: “Well, that explains it then. Wilby must've gotten the scent of it. My mother says he's a bloodhound in a sweater. (Hands over the cup:) Sorry it's a little battered.”

Peddler: “Oh, that's all right. Worth it to see such a fine animal like this. (Crouches down to pet the dog:) You are a fine little fella, aren't you? (Chuckles:) Made camp here last night so no brigands would find me.” David: “Brigands?” Peddler: (Stands:) “Oh, yes. I usually never travel this road alone. Say, which way are you headed?” David: “To Longbourn.” Peddler: “Fate has smiled upon our heads. That's exactly where I'm headed. Perhaps we can travel together? My name’s Gabriel.” David: “David. (They shake hands:) That sounds fine.” Gabriel: “Hop on up. I'm eager to get started for the day.” (While David heads to the front of the wagon, Gabriel opens the back, revealing several large chains, armour and axes.) Elsewhere In The Forest. (Blue, still in her human form, walks alongside Snow White.) Blue Fairy: “Do you really have to go, Princess Snow? The fairies can help you. Surely there is a way other than leaving your home.” Snow White: “Home is where your family is, and by now, that's pretty much just the woman who's trying to kill me.” Blue Fairy: “There's an old fairy saying. If someone believes in you, you are never alone. All the people love you.” Snow White: (Scoffs:) “Love.” Blue Fairy: “Love is the most powerful magic in the world.” Snow White: “Really? You know that brooch I sold? My father gave that to my mother because he loved her. She treasured it because it was from him. After she died, you know what he did? He gave it to Regina because he loved her, too. She treated it like trash. His love meant everything to my mother and nothing to my step-mother. See, love doesn't hold its value. The only thing that's maintained its value this entire time is the brooch, and I can't afford to invest in anything less. (Holds up a pouch:) This? This can buy me something that can actually change my life... a ticket out of here. (They hug:) Goodbye, Blue.” Blue Fairy: “Be careful. Danger can look harmless at first.” Henry's Dreamscape. (Ella, Richard & Roberta ride upon their one remaining horse when it stops walking.) Richard: “It stopped. This is what happened to the last one.” Ella: “Okay, okay. Let's just try giving it a kick. It worked before. One, two, three. Kick.” (They all attempt to prod the horse into walking, but the animal does not want to move:) Great.” Richard: “It's useless. (They all climb off the horse:) How could things have gone so bad so quickly? Those stupid bats ate all our food. We all got the same cold. Worst of all...” Ella: “Please don't say it again.” Richard: “We had to eat that family of hobbits.” Roberta: “Ugh. Richard, look, I'm sorry we had to eat hobbits. But we didn't have a choice. We're starving.”

Richard: (Notices a signpost up ahead:) “Hold on a minute. ‘Sir Arnold Galavant’s Swordsmanship School.’ Huh. This sounds promising.” Ella: “Uh... No. (They turn to face her:) We don’t have time to enroll you in some sword fighting class, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Richard: “Why ever not? Neither of you two have managed to train me.” Ella: “That’s because we’re always too busy fighting off bandits who want to rob and kill us while you scream like a little girl.” Richard: “That is not- (Glances at Roberta:) Okay, fine. But it’s a school. At the very least they’ll have food.” Roberta: (Pleading:) “We ate hobbits.” Ella: “No, we have to keep moving. Look, I'm sure we could find a warm bed and a nice meal in literally any other direction. (They turn to look at other signposts. One reads ‘Nothing for 20 miles’. Another reads ‘Nothing for 50 miles’ and the last simply says ‘This way to certain death’:) Oh, fiddlesticks.” The Land Without Magic. (Emma and Regina are driving back to Storybrooke.) Regina: "So, do you want to talk about what happened back there?" Emma: "What part in particular? The fact that Henry is now trapped in the dreamworld, or the part where we have to ask our friends and family to form an army to save him because we can't?" Regina: "Then you agree, we should stay behind?" Emma: "What? No, I just meant that-" Regina: "Because I think you should seriously consider sitting this one out." Emma: "Me? You're the one who's pregnant here." Regina: "Yes, I'm pregnant, not disabled." Emma: (Winces:) "Look, I'm sorry, but I know what you were gonna say. You think it's a bad idea for me to go through the curse again." Regina: "I saw how you were with Facilier." Emma: "Hey, I did fine with Facilier." Regina: "Only after you realised it wasn't him. I think that speaks volumes." Emma: "I'm not talking about this. I'm going, end of discussion." Regina: (Glares at her, coolly:) "Pull over at the next stop. (At Emma's look:) I have to pee. I’m pregnant, remember?" (Emma nods but says nothing, clearly aware that the discussion is far from over.)

Storybrooke. Outside Granny’s Diner. (David sits across from Jefferson, a destroyed hat between them.) David: “Can you get me through?” Jefferson: “No.” David: “Can you get them back? Can you get it to work?” Jefferson: (Laughs:) “If you only knew.” David: “Okay, I know you have others so use one of them and take me to wherever Henry and Hook are being held.” Jefferson: “They're in Morpheus’ realm, that's for sure. I just can't go there.” David: “Can’t or won’t?” Jefferson: “I already meddled in Morpheus’ affairs once and it cost me dearly. You can’t win in his world.” David: “So you won't help me?” Jefferson: “My days as a portal jumper are over. I tried to warn you people this would happen and now it has. It’s out of my hands.” David: (Grabbing Jefferson by the scarf:) “I’m not letting you off that easy. How about I just throw you in a cell until you agree to help me?” Jefferson: “Then all we'll do is both sit, thinking of those we’ve lost... Double the pain. Double the suffering.” (Jefferson tips over the table and flees. David chases after him, but is stopped by Lily.) Lily: “David, stop!” David: “Get out of my way!” Lily: “No, what is going on?” David: “He has the way!” Lily: “The way? The way to what?” David: “To saving Henry... (Realising:) And your father.” Lily: “My father? What’s this about?” David: (Sighs:) “Henry and Killian are trapped in the Dream World, and I’m trying to find a way to get to them.” Lily: “And you think the best way to do that is by threatening everyone?” David: “Jefferson’s been there before, he could easily take me there if he wanted to, but he refuses.” Lily: “You want to put your trust in the Mad Hatter’s hat? The rules of that thing change with the wind, it’s far too unstable.” David: “Then what’s your big idea, sheriff?” (Without waiting for an answer, David storms away. Watching him leave, Lily thinks for a moment before getting an idea.)

Henry's Dreamscape. (The trio arrive outside the swordsmanship school and Ella is still not convinced.) Ella: "Listen, we don't have time for this. I promise to train you myself while we continue our search for an army." Richard: "Unless you can train me while we eat, I'm not interested. (To Roberta:) So hungry." Roberta: "Yeah. (They walk through the gates together:) I wonder if dinner is steak?" Richard: "Hear, hear." (Up ahead, the sound of children can be heard.) Arnold: (Carrying several children:) "Ha ha ha! Ah, greetings! Come in. Boys, make way, make way, make way. Welcome, welcome. (Beckoning them inside:) Come, come, come.” Roberta: “You have a lovely home, sir.” Arnold: “Thank you.” Richard: “You have a lot of children. Your wife must be so sore.” (Roberta hits Richard in the chest chidingly.) Arnold: (Chuckles:) “They're not mine. I run a swordsmanship school for at-risk youth. Have been ever since I retired from the heroics game.” Ella: “A school for children?” Roberta: “Should’ve seen that coming.” (They enter the practice area and are swarmed by more boys.) Arnold: “Hey, boys! Oh, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! One at a time.” The Land Without Magic. Roadside Cafe. (Returning from the bathroom together, Emma walks ahead as Regina takes a seat at a table.) Emma: “David said Jefferson won’t help us, so we’ve got- (Notices Regina isn’t behind her, turns and walks to the table:) What are you doing? We can get a drink to-go.” Regina: “I’m not going anywhere until we talk about this.” Emma: (Pulls out a chair and takes a seat:) “All right, let’s talk.” Regina: “Even if you were willing to relive the curse, you still wouldn’t be able to save Henry.” Emma: “We’ll figure something out. We always do.” Regina: “But that’s just it. Morpheus isn’t going to allow us to share a dreamscape. You’ll be reliving the Black Fairy’s curse and I’ll be god knows where.” Emma: “Then what, Regina? We just give in, let Morpheus rule over us all?” Regina: “At least there’s a chance we’ll still be together.” Emma: “Yeah and there was a chance Hades would’ve lived among us in peace, right up until he killed Robin Hood and almost killed you.”

Regina: “Fine, then what do you suggest? That we walk blindly into the Dream World and fight Morpheus on his terms?” Emma: “I don’t know what we’re going to do, but I do know that sitting here won’t accomplish anything. (Stands:) So, you coming?” (Regina watches Emma closely, troubled by what lies ahead for them, and for her wife especially.) Henry's Dreamscape. Swordsmanship School. (Richard stands in front of the other students, sword in hand.) Richard: “All right, boys, who's gonna train me? (The boys stand in a line and all draw their own swords:) Oh. (One boy steps forward, twirling his sword menacingly:) Oh! Watch the face! What's wrong with you? (They begin to train:) Good Lord.” (Watching from above are Ella and Roberta.) Ella: “You know, there was a time when I would've paid good money to see this.” Roberta: “It's nice that he's good with kids, though.” Richard: (From below:) “Why, you little... Come here, come here! Ow! Ow! Ow!” Roberta: “Ella, I'm starting to worry that Richard won't be ready when the real battle comes.” Ella: “Careful, Roberta. You're starting to sound like someone who cares for the guy.” Roberta: “In love with him? Me? (Scoffs:) What? I'm not in love with him.” Richard: (From below as the children attack him:) “What's wrong with you people?!” Roberta: “At all.”

Enchanted Forest. Past. (David and Gabriel continue travelling together through the woods.) David: “I didn't think we'd break so soon.” Gabriel: “Oh, my poor old horse needs a good many breaks. And I like to take a look at the local scenery. Don't think Wilby's complaining, either. (David Chuckles:) Drink up. No more breaks after this. We can make it all the way to Longbourn in one leg.” David: (Takes a drink:) “Thanks.” (David immediately feels woozy, falling to his knees.) Gabriel: “You all right, mate? Oh, mate, you shouldn't take drinks from strangers. (David collapses to the ground, panting. Wilby whimpers:) He's just sleeping. And I have a fun game for you and me to play in the meantime.” Elsewhere In The Forest. (Snow White is walking alone, when she hears a branch snap. Turning quickly, arming herself with a heavy rock, Snow is relieved to see Wilby walking towards her.) Snow White: (Crouching down to greet him:) “Oh, hey. Where did you come from?” (She gasps as an axe lands beside her.) Woodcutter: “I see you met my friend.” Snow White: “The Woodcutter. How did you find me?” Gabriel: (Removing his hood to reveal his face:) “You're nothing but a lost princess. And I came across an excellent sheep dog. They're great at finding strays. They just need to get a scent. (Wilby whimpers and runs off. Snow spits in the Woodcutter’s face, who laughs:) Oh, come on. I'm not gonna kill you. (Grabs her face:) I'm just gonna take you to the queen and get a reward. She'll kill you.”

[lightsandlostbells]

Skam Austin episode 4 reaction

part of me is laughing at the number of people in the Facebook comments asking, “Is this on Netflix?”

Episode 4

Clip 1 - Sad couch crew

I felt Tyler and Shay were being friendly to Megan here, not snide, at least on a superficial level. Though I guess you can take their excitement about the concert as passive-aggressiveness.

Tyler mentioning the Illuminati - how very Isak. TBH I really hope Julie is making both Shay and Tyler gay, since they’re dividing up the Isak moments between the two. I’m fine if Tyler doesn’t get the big season-long arc and it goes to Shay instead, I’d love to see her get it. But it’s just going to leave such a bad taste if they’ve made Isak into a wlw with no equivalent to the gay male representation that already existed, when there are many supposedly straight female characters who could be have been made into wlw. Especially the Vilde equivalent, who you could easily give a story about discovering and accepting her sexuality, or the Chris character, who didn’t have her own season and really didn’t have any substantial character issues suggested on the level of Vilde’s home life, and would benefit from a meaty arc. 

I love Shay, she’s definitely one of the highlights of the show, I’m just tired of all the fighting over whether it’s better for S3 to focus on a gay boy or a lesbian and seeing a lot of gross shit in the discussions that’s either minimizing the importance of an f/f storyline because homophobia is worse for men in Texas/lesbians don’t have it that bad/lesbians are already represented on TV because they’re accepted by straight men who find them sexy/someone doesn’t care about lesbians and will only accept Evak 2.0, or minimizing the importance of Evak/another m/m storyline because Skam and the other remakes already have gay ships so don’t get greedy/gay men are already accepted because look at all the m/m on Tumblr and AO3/people only want another Evak because they’re disgusting fetishizers. It’s fucked up how most of these talk relies on the assumption that there can be only one LGBT story on Skam at a time and not pushing back on why it goes without question that S1 and a hypothetical S2 about Grace/Daniel can both be about heterosexual relationships. 

Not to be one of those obnoxious people referencing YA novels in response to real life situations, but it makes me think of Katniss at the climax of Catching Fire when her group of Tributes is fighting the Career Tributes and she fires at the force field instead. Remember who the real enemy is. 

That’s a joke, don’t take that too seriously.

Anyway I’m tired. 

Considering how shitty he’s been acting previously, Tyler not laughing at Marlon’s comments and just deliberately eating a potato chip is a step up for him.

Speaking of the chips, they disappear in between shots and I guess Tyler could be putting the bag on the floor between takes or something but it looks like a regular old continuity error.

Marlon is a mega dick and I dislike him but I kinda can’t believe that I agreed with him about the team’s social standings vs. their practice time. But it was Marlon who said it so it sounded like a dick move.

See, he’s been such a dick that it’s hard to feel sorry for him! But also he’s in the right to feel hurt about the concert.

I don't have much to say except he is the least convincing person to be talking about how he’s not upset and he doesn’t care. He’s so obviously pissed.

There’s just not a shred of chemistry between these two. I don’t get why they’re together, I don’t get what they like about each other, they barely seem to have much fun together. There isn’t much of a rapport.

Pointless personal anecdote #1: When this clip came out, I watched it on my phone at a graduation party, and I'm not kidding, in the few minutes while I was watching some middle-aged parents started talking about wanting to move to Texas when they retire, and they named cities and singled out Austin as a bad choice because “it’s been overtaken by liberals,” lmao. There was no way they could have realized I was watching a show set in Austin. The stars just aligned.

Clip 2 - Kelsey, no

Grace is really concerned about Kelsey sleeping with Daniel so soon, probably because what happened in her own past messed her up.

“Ever since I was a little girl watching the Super Bowl, I knew I was going to lose my virginity to a football player.” .... when I was a little girl watching the Super Bowl I only cared about seeing the commercials with the pretty horses.

“It was like he was going down on me, but in my mouth” … oh my God … someone SAVE this child.

Kelsey, you don’t even know what anyone going down on you in the “correct” place feels like, and this just makes you sound like inexperienced and Not Ready . And I’m glad Meg and Grace are suitably horrified.

Oh, they actually mentioned the issue of insurance, that’s good. But she looked a little uncomfortable with the topic of insurance, so if she has a similar financial situation to Vilde, insurance might be an issue? Or, as was hinted later via texts, she might have a super religious or conservative mom who would not take her to the doctor. She might be able to go to Planned Parenthood for birth control except I’m not sure if minors can get prescriptions for the pill without parental consent because well, Texas.

I checked out of curiosity and it looks like the only type of birth control you can get at PP without parental consent are condoms and lol, Grace already had that covered.

“You know you should use a condom, right?” “What if he doesn’t want to use a condom?” “Then you know you shouldn’t have sex with him.” YES. JESUS. Thank you Grace.

“I talked to Jo this weekend and I prayed about it last night” Oh come on, they’re going to have her mention praying about Zoya’s participation on the team and then not even address the sex-religion topic? Okay. Kelsey doesn’t even have to be abstinent or opposed to premarital sex, not all Christians are, I feel like it just makes sense for someone to be like, “Isn’t having sex before marriage against your religion?” And if Kelsey objected to the question on the grounds that they’re making assumptions about her religion, they could always come back at her with “Well, you assumed Muslims couldn’t dance.”

Kudos to Grace for talking sense about the Zoya situation and being very calm and careful about the Daniel thing.

Clip 3 - Backseat

The editing at the start of the clip made me think the mom might be talking to Megan at first but no, the mom is on her phone. Mom’s communication skills weren’t so great in this clip.

The dialogue is pretty on the nose and super specific to the theeeeeeme, with the mom putting all this implied pressure on Megan, but the passive aggressiveness about Megan’s dad is sadly accurate to how certain married-with-kids dynamics are, with the parents always at each other’s throats and dismissive of each other and not caring about how the kids react to these constant fighting. 

I saw some people wondering why Megan was sitting in the backseat and honestly, that didn’t seem too weird to me. It’s not typical but I’ve ridden in the backseat even when I was the only passenger before (usually because sometimes riding in the front seat makes me sick)  but I could see like, a moody teenager wanting to text her boyfriend and not wanting her mom to glance over at her phone. Although the simplest explanation is that Julie wants to hide the parents’ faces.

I didn’t even notice the giant concert posters at first, I was focused on the homeless man. I am assuming he was there to remind us of the stakes to succeed in this world if you’re much of a “dreamer” as Meg’s mom puts it, where if you don’t get a good job that can be you living on the streets, and to get a good job you need to get a degree from a good school, and to get a degree from a good school you need to perform well in high school, and if you make one mistake you are ruined, RUINED forever. 

Meg trying to ask her mom for relationship advice and instead getting reminded that her parents have a shit relationship, lovely. 

The difference in the tone between the coworker call and the dad call is very telling. Right off the bat, when the dad calls, the mom has a pissed-off attitude. They’re at the stage where they fight just to fight.

Also, note the guilt trip caused by the mom yelling at the dad for not remembering she was going to her friend’s (and like, who cares, I mean this might be part of a larger problem but this sounds like the pettiest shit to argue about) and saying people show they appreciate and support each other by listening and taking interest in their loves, when that’s exactly what Megan didn’t do (skipping Marlon’s show that he was so hyped for) and that’s how she feels she can make it up to him (by buying tickets to the concert he had mentioned).

And the mom says people show they care by listening when she doesn’t even listen to her own daughter and interrupts her when she’s trying to ask a question, and she’s definitely not paying attention to Megan’s life. Like, how is it that they can miss that she’s not on the dance team? Surely the team has some performances or competitions that they’d attend? Fundraisers? I can see them not attending all of Megan’s dance performances, but any of them? 

Megan’s mom is a piece of work, though I’m sure the dad plays his part in the dysfunction too, I don’t want to put it all on the mother.

Clip 4 - Straw

Franz Ferdinand???

Not that this is the point but I’m intrigued by this locker setup. But I am from a place with cold cold winters so the idea of having one of these lockers in January seems terrible.

I was curious if Kendrick Lamar was actually supposed to perform in Austin on Friday, so I checked it out, and lo and behold, it was a real concert. Good job, Skam Austin.

It kinda just makes me sad that THIS is how Meg gets Marlon’s attention again, by buying (probably) expensive concert tickets.

“you two are smashing in that bathroom by the nurse’s office” at least you’re nearby if you need offbeat advice and some condoms? Oh wait, this is Texas. Never mind the last one.

This is my chance to talk about how gross I find the word “smash” in any sexual context. It just sounds uncomfortable and makes me think of potatoes.

Shoutout to Tyler’s Prince shirt, certainly a unique wardrobe choice.

Man, Kelsey is just such an easy target. Especially with the way she talks, like-like-like … blood in the water. Tyler and Shay are not here for Kelsey and Jo right off the bat and once Kelsey opens her mouth, it’s doom.

At least Kelsey had the sense to keep Zoya on the team list even if it was for self-serving reasons.

I applaud these actresses for effort, but every version of the iconic spoon scene has felt forced compared to the original. Josefina, my darling, if you’re going to be seductive with your straw, you might wanna purse your lips instead of letting it roll around in and out of your mouth.

I think it’s great that Jo and Tyler spoke Spanish to each other, and that they didn’t have subtitles, but lol at the brazenness of asking that question right in front of Shay when Shay could possibly speak Spanish herself. Or lmao, anyone who has taken Spanish I could understand what she was saying. (Like what if Shay was his girlfriend? Kinda think Jo isn’t concerned with technicalities.)

Calling him jefe, lmao, wow.

Tyler referring to Kelsey as Drew Barrymore made me laugh. Do kids these days have a firm grasp on Drew Barrymore’s legacy? What has she been in recently other than Santa Clarita Diet?

Maybe instead of references to Romeo + Juliet, we can get allusions to Ever After, The Wedding Singer, or Never Been Kissed. (Maybe not that last one.)

Also, I’m glad Meg spoke up for Kelsey so they weren’t just bashing her new friends.

Clip 5 - Internet quizzes should not be used to make major life decisions

Zoya is just looking through a book while Kelsey is talking.

Some of Kelsey’s rules: 

“Always act classy”

“No cursing, fighting, messy hair or appearance” while wearing the uniform

“Positive vibes ONLY”

But yeah, here’s another example of why the dance team wasn’t the best way to adapt russ because like … of course Kelsey is being rude and ridiculous, and I can’t say I’m on her side against Zoya, but … if the team founder calls a meeting to discuss rules, it’s expected that you will be there to discuss the rules and not blow it off? 

With Vilde’s bus, first of all, russ was several years away and they had time to pull it all together. A dance team is going to require some results in the near future, especially if the team is school-approved and getting them out of P.E. Someone is probably going to be checking up on the girls and making sure they’re not getting P.E. credit for sitting around and doing nothing. Second, pretty sure a bus group is not going to require as much day to day practice, training, and energy as a dance team.

I don’t know, however silly Kelsey’s motivations might be, if you sign up for someone’s dance team … you should expect to dance, dude. That goes for all the girls.

When prompted to give her opinion of Zoya, Jo cleverly deflects with the quiz, as her opinion of Zoya is clearly ❤️❤️❤️

I do love and appreciate Grace trying to persuade Kelsey to rethink the whole sleeping with Daniel thing. Not being too harsh, but being firm and not hesitating to point out all the ways it’s not a good choice.

Also being like “keep in mind he’s not your boyfriend” thank youuuu.

Kelsey sure doesn’t like that part about people judging her for having premarital sex. At least they might bring it up in the aftermath of hooking up with Daniel?

“That definitely didn’t happen.” “It did happen and she can’t eat Sweet Tarts anymore.” Jo continues to be the shining star of this show, I laughed out loud at her delivery of that line. 

Whenever one of the Chrises is like “I was totally wasted” about their first time, I’m just like 😧

Kelsey saying option A on the quiz, for her “boyfriend” and her being closer once they sleep together, is the most depressing thing. Stop this train before it goes off the rails.

Oh God. Kelsey does not need to be anywhere near a penis at this juncture. The way she starts giggling and laughing when Grace suggests to think about what turns her on about Daniel … you are not ready to have sex. You are barely ready to talk about sex. None of the Vildes has seemed so young and not ready to go through with this.

Kelsey did not talk about not wanting to be involved in lesbianism, hmmmMMMM. Foreshadowing? Or maybe Julie just realized that people didn’t like the casual lesbophobia if you don’t have a lesbian character? 

I haven’t been all that complimentary to the actors on this show, but I do want to give Kelsey’s actress some props for reciting that whole monologue, which is just a detailed Teen Vogue photoshoot.

It’s amusing that Kelsey integrated the Kittens uniform into her erotic fantasy but sad that Kelsey still wants to be a Kitten so much. She’s not wearing a uniform for her own group, whatever she might want it to be, she’s wearing a Kitten uniform in her ideal scenario.

You know Jo is listening to this fantasy and getting inspiration for her next Kelsey makeup experiment.Also, it makes me laugh that they’re having this discussion in a library.

Overheard in Bouldin - TMI Girl in Library: “People get turned on my different things all the time. My cousin’s thing is dirty socks. She keeps a pair of her ex-boyfriend’s in a Ziploc bag under her bed.”

May we one day meet this intriguing cousin of yours, Jo.

But don’t encourage this Daniel nonsense.

It’s too bad we didn’t get the classic doctor visit but lol, a school doctor in Texas might not be able to be so blatant with the sex ed tips, so I get it. And ultimately I would prefer if Julie tried out new scenes instead of trying to recreate old ones.

At first I thought Kelsey maybe didn’t know who Kendrick Lamar was. Which is perfectly plausible, let’s be real.

“When I have ever asked you for anything?” In the short time Meg has known you, Kelsey ... find Jo, join the dance team, get closer to Penetrator Jo, give you her birth control pills.

Clip 6 - Bowling

Kelsey’s outfit is almost exactly what she described in her fantasy! No access to a Kittens dance uniform, but otherwise very close. Follow your dreams, kids. 

“Martin had a dream … Martin had a dream …” look, I like that Skam uses a variety of music and not just white indie rock, but can we like … quit syncing music by black artists talking about black cultural topics to scenes of this white dude being a big deal.

Look at that dipshit taking up two parking spaces. Fuck offffffffffffff

Kelsey looks so happy and Daniel looks like he’s already 75% checked out.

How long is this Kendrick bowling montage going to go on?

Ha, Kelsey easily had the worst bowling score of the four of them.

“Daniel just touched my ass.” The way Kelsey was thrilled about this was kind of cute and alarming.

Kelsey wanting Meg to stay with them as long as she can makes me think she really just doesn’t want to go through with the impending loss of virginity.

“Then how’d you know my name at Talent Night?” I mean ... you do go to school together, and Jo is on the football team with a high social profile. I could name a lot of my high school classmates by name even if I’ve never spoken to them.

Is Julie going to go full Chris/Eva with this version to give the shippers their day in the sun? I love original Eva/Jonas but Meg/Marlon is an unpleasant trainwreck so I can’t say I’m disappointed. I mean I can’t say I love Meg/Penetrator Jo either,, but I’m not sad about this version of Eva/Jonas not being endgame.

Penetrator Jo is still sleazy in at least a few respects (don’t be a cocktease) and we have still have to meet his girlfriend but his memory of her seems legit so maybe he does really like her. Unless, I don’t know, he stalked her IG and remembered some relevant details and embellished this whole story?

Lmao, I can get why people might think the “No Signal” scenario would be a contrivance but that exact thing has happened to me, so I buy it.

I will give Julie this credit, she’s good at setting up Fredag/Friday scenarios where we think one thing will happen, and instead something else occurs that’s completely different from the fan theories. I figured it would be as simple as Meg or Marlon missing the concert, not that we’d spot Marlon (or “Marlon”) with Abby

I don’t think it’s Marlon, though. That seems a lot like Tyler’s walk, and the person doesn’t seem to be wearing Marlon’s ugly shoes. 

General Comments:

It’s kind of depressing to see people in the FB group and in the comments be like, “I haven’t seen the original show but could Grace be a lesbian? 😃” and the replies be like “No, Noorhelm is coming 😃”

Another “fun” aspect of having this show on Facebook: the MAGA edgelord assholes who leave comments on the episodes about “cucks” and “libtards.”

My opinion of Grace rose so much in this episode just by how doggedly she is trying to bring Kelsey back to earth. and telling her she can back out of this choice. 

In the texts, Grace said she would buy condoms for Kelsey - good job - and later, when Kelsey asked the girls what she should wear for losing her virginity, said, “I know what Daniel will be wearing” and said that she put condoms in Kelsey’s purse - excellent job.

I feel like Grace would roll the condom on Daniel’s dick herself if it meant Kelsey had safe sex.

Abby was stressing over finals on IG so I’d bet that was a hint she needed something to help her out, hence meeting up with Marlon/Tyler for Adderall.

I was wondering what kind of music would be on Skam Austin since original Skam had all sorts of high-profile artists, and that would not be cheap, but so far, it seems like Facebook spared no expense with the soundtrack.

Grace and Shay had IG posts reacting to the Santa Fe High School Shooting. IDK how much Skam Austin would address gun violence in the episodes itself in the future, and I can think of ways it could go very badly, but sadly, as one of the biggest concerns of American teenagers today, it would be very relevant, and that’s what Skam’s supposed to be, after all.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

dragon

“What’sgoing on?” Obi says, using Kiki’s shoulder as a brace as he looks over hedgestowards the main house.

Shewrinkles her nose, shoving him off. Unfortunately, he doesn’t topple over.“Members of the Royal Family are visiting.”

Obi’seyes go wide. “Whaaaaaaaaaat?” he says, standing up on his tippy toes.

“It’snot that big of a deal,” she says, crossing her arms. 

Hedoesn’t listen, of course. “Wowwww,” he says. “Kiki. You gotta come look. It’slike one of your fairy tale books just barfed all over your front lawn.”

Shewrinkles her nose. “Really?”

“Yea,”he nods emphatically, listing a little to the side before catching himself. “Everyone’sdressed like it’s one of your father’s balls. Only… not.”

Shehates her father’s balls. She’s never invited. “You should get down before theysee you.”

“Oh!Oh!” he shuffles, reaching down to bat at her head. “There’s another kidwith them! We should ask him if he wants to come and play!”

Sheperks a little at that. “Is it another girl?”

Obishakes his head. “No. It’s a boy. His hair is really weird though: It’s whitelike an old person’s.”

Shescowls, grabbing his wrist and yanking him down. “He’s exactly who I don’t want to see!”

Obisquats on the stone seat next to her, frowning, and looks from her to the hedgesand back again. “Why not?”

Shepuffs out her cheeks and fists her palms in the stupid dress they made her weartoday. 

“Becausemy dad wants me to marry him.”

~~ ~

Theyduck down low, leaves and twigs cracking underfoot as they run alongside themanor towards the East Wing. 

Shereally doesn’t understand how she lets him talk her into these things.

“Areyou sure they’re going to be staying on this side?” Obi whispers, staring upthe gray stone and mortar and squinting.

“Yes,I’m sure,” she hisses.

“Whichroom do you think that your dad will put your fiancé in?”

Herface goes hot. “He is not-!”

“–YourHighness Zen!”

Theyfreeze, staring at each other.

“YourHighness,” an older woman yells from somewhere up above them. “Do not!”

“Justgetting a bit of fresh air!” a boy replies. “I’ll be back before dinner!”

Kikiand Obi crane their heads upwards just in time to see a rather large white andblue bird fly from the third story window, a shrill roar of indignationfollowing. Her mouth falls open, impish eyes meeting hers and rounding insurprise before gravity takes hold. He falls, rather un-Prince like, into thebushes.

“Ughhh….”

“Eh,”Obi pokes her side, pointing at the broken shrubbery. "That’s yourPrince Charming?”

Shepunches him in the arm.

~~ ~

Theyrush over, peeling the Second Prince out of the plants before any adults cansee them.

“Yougotta work on your landing, Your Highness,” Obi grins, picking twigs out of hishair.

“Whoare you?” the Prince scowls, flinching away when Obi reaches for a leaf.

Hegrins wider and Kiki repressed the urge to groan. “I have many names,” he replies,the introductory sentence to his favorite game. “I have many secrets aswell. If you’ll be my friend, maybe I’ll tell you a few of them.”

ThePrince doesn’t look impressed. “What’s his name?” he says, lookingdirectly at her.

“Obi,”she replies, just as deadpan. “And he doesn’t need any more friends. Hehas me.”

Obipouts. “You’re always busy though.”

Kikiglares at him before giving the other boy a considering look. It wouldn’t do toskip protocol. Her governess would box her ears. Straightening up, she dipsinto a proper curtsy.

“Obi,”she mutters, thwapping his arm. “Introduce me.”

“Oh!”Obi stands up straight, rubbing the back of his neck. “Um, Your Highness Zen,may I present-”

“Iknow who you are,” Prince Zen interrupts coolly, dusting off hisclothes. “And I’m not going to marry you.”

Kikipicks up her head from its polite bow and sneers. “I’m not going to marryyou either.”

“I’mgoing to marry for lo—” he starts, and then stops, staring at her. “Wait.Really?”

~~ ~

“Quick!Quick! Hurry!” Obi laughs over his shoulder, running ahead of them. “HisHighnesses aides are a little faster than yours, Miss Kiki!”

Somewherein the woods behind her, she can hear the crashing of leaves and the yells ofgrownups. It’s not too different from when she disappears from her lessons. There’sjust… more of them. A lot more.

“That’sbecause they aren’t ancient!” she yells, grinning, her skirts bunched up in herfists, legs pumping under the extra weight of fabric to keep up.

“Youtwo do this often?” the Prince gasps, leaping over a fallen log.

“Allthe time!” Obi cheers, jumping down an embankment.

ThePrince sounds delighted. “Me too!”

~~ ~

Justwhen Kiki starts to think that this Prince fellow might be tolerable, he goesand says something dumb.

“Excuseme?” she says, her fists on her hips. “You want me to do what?”

“Itonly makes sense!” Zen declares imperiously. But his face is bright, his eyesare sparkling. He’s likes hisdumb idea. “I’ll be the Prince, you’ll be the Princess, and Obi will be myKnight and we’ll rescue you!”

“Whycan’t I be the knight?” she asks, tilting her head back in challenge.

Zen’sface goes wide in shock. “Because- because you’re a girl!” hesputters. “Girls can’t be knights!”

“Ehh?Why not?” Obi asks, looking over at the other boy. “Kiki is better athorse riding and sword fighting than me!”

“What?Really?” he asks, eyes widening before snapping over to Kiki. 

Shepuffs up, proud. “I can beat boys 5 years older than me,” she declares. “AndI snuck into a horse riding competition and beat all the neighboring Lords sonslast year.”

Zenstares at her and blinks. “Huh,” he remarks, thoughtful. Then henods. “Okay. Then you can be the knight! And Obi can be the Princess!”

Kikigrins, but now it’s Obi’s turn to be shocked. “Huh?” he says elegantly, swivelingtowards the Prince.

Zen’sshoulders drop, disappointed that no one seems to like his game. “What’swrong with that?”

“It’sjust,” Obi licks his lips, searching for the right words. “It’s just HisHighness is much prettier than me.”

ThePrince frowns.

~~ ~

“Help!Help!” Zen calls from the first branch of an oak, his voice a high falsetto. Hewaves Kiki’s handkerchief feebly. “Sir Kiki! Save me!”

“Rawrrrrrrr!!!”Obi roars at the base of the tree, his fingers curled like talons and hunched close to the ground. “I am a big scary dragon! No one will ever take the Princess fromme! Rawrrrrrrrr!”

“Heeeellllllpppp!”

“I’mgoing to have Princess Stew for dinner! Rawwrrrrrrrrrr!”

Kikigrins, stick brandished in both of her hands like a sword. “Don’t worry,Princess!” she declares, charging towards Obi in a gallop. “I’ll saveyou!”

[eriks-journal]

The Lion in the Dark - Part 3

The night was over as soon as he hit the pillow he felt. The sun peaking into his low window. He turned for a moment's more rest in his blessed stillness. Not one to laze about he moved on. As he rose he felt the rush of cool air as his senses awoke as well. Washing his face there came a knock at the door, then another, and another. Unphased by his lesser clothing, his modesty barely covered to enjoy the cool air with no sight of its anatomical effects, he answered the door, The caller was nearly beating down the door by this time. Leon opened the door to find a pair of midlander guards. They took a step back as stepped out, a head taller then both and likely as strong as they were combined based on his build. "What can I do for you gentlemen?" One soldier overcame fear and answered, "Father Borghen's home has been attacked, someone has died."

He had never dressed so fast in his life, he had not even bothered to close the door as he retreated to his chamber halfway through their message. He would forgo his work shirt, donning rough but effective armor. His frightful helm under his arm and his blade to his back, he burst forth like a bat out of the seven hells, nearly trampling the men who had given him the news.

He never came to the house armed, even if it was his "work" blade. He was armed and armored now, bursting through the door like a storm. Halting at the scene of the attack he felt some measure of relief to see the Priest alive. Father Borghen stood in tears as he spoke to the city watch, turning as did the hole room saw the nightmare of a highlander arrived ready for war. "Oh Leon! They have killed your brother." He said as he motioned to the small body on the ground, a sheet covering over the body. "What happened?" Leon yelled. The priest replied through tears, "A burglar Leon. Poor Marc was up getting something from the kitchen and they saw him. Poor boy, may Halone take him." As the priest seemingly broke down Leon knelt and lifted the sheet. The boy had been an orphan, his mother died in child birth, his father in defense of the nation. He had been gutted, his throat slit first. To become an executioner one had to serve at least a year or two with the city watch or the military, or if well connected the Templars. He had forgone Borghen's offer to march as a Templar, reasoning the ground level would grant more realistic experiences and lead to deeper understandings. His is year and a half with the lowly city watch had taught him much, not the least of which being how to look at a crime and walk it through in his mind. He recovered his "brother' and stood, looking to a few of the servants lingering out of sight. A few girls, and a footman, "Did you see anything?" One of the girls looked quickly at Borghen and then back to the executioner, "No Leon....." and like insects they scattered.

Something was not right maybe it was guilt, he had struck the boy after all. The old priest had ordered the boy's body be taken to his family crypt. He would have the best and Borghen himself would deliver the prayers he said, and in that deliver the boy's soul to the Shield Maiden. As the guards left Borghen collapsed into his chair with a whisper, "Poor, poor boy." Leon sat next to him. "I will fine who did this Father. I am only sorry I was not here." The priest nodded wary, "Yes, as am I. The others, your siblings are scared Leon. Would you come home for a while? I know you love your home but..." Leon interrupted, "Of course! I will right away. I will hurry home and fetch my things and be back before night fall." The old priest smiled, relieved.

Leon's speed was as it had been, soon he reached his home after seeing to it his "Father" was well. The others and their reaction to the events bothered him like mayflies, but beyond that he would focus on that later. Likely it was his presence and energy in the room. After arriving he hurried and packed his things, everything would come with him. He felt guilt at the boy's murder, if he had been there.... He felt bad for the boy but felt only terror at the thought of Borghen on the floor gutted like a fish. What if he had been awake. He moved faster now, carrying things to the side door and out into his small stable.

He hitched his horse to a wagon he kept for moving the bodies. His horse was quite a sight, in a nation known for its Chocobo, his mount stood out. He liked it that way, it drew attention to him and therefore his occupation. Maybe, he thought, it saved souls, the terrible image of the Hangman upon some odd ebony creature few had ever seen. The horse was called Dread, and was as fitting a name one could ask for, especially a man who seemed to be Death's agent. As his "Father" had always said, "Fear keeps good men good.", and from that Leon selected the name meaning "Fear". The horse had come as an exotic animal from some far land. Leon had never seen something so beautiful. Seeing this Borghen bought the animal on the spot from the Lalafell that owned it and gifted it to his favorite "son". He would in time agree, that the image of "Death" the Headsman riding "Fear" itself toward the condemned would indeed cause those in the crowd to think twice before they themselves sin.

Leon patted the horse's head after hitching him. The cart full, he began his trip home. A street down he remembered he had a body to deal with. The man he had executed, he would have to see to him. "Damn." he growled. He hopped off the cart and patted the horse's head again. "I need to take care of this. You know the way to Father boy. Go to Father, I'll be along shortly." The horse snorted and slowly moved along on its way. As Leon approached the tower again he saw several men enter through the stable into his building. He paused and took cover, they had not intended to be seen by how they kept to the shadows. "Such poor souls, such is not the day to bother me like this."

[ill-be-bold]

Hello! My name is Talac, nice to meet you! I am a yearling stud colt out of BLM Mustang Chief Wildfire and a Percheron/Quarter Horse mare named Thunder.

My dad Chief used to be a wild Mustang out in South Steens, Oregon until he was about 2 to 4 years old - there is some question on how old he was, as photos showed him seemingly with his own mares when he was taken in and put up for adoption. Now, he is around 20-22 years old (but shhh, we don’t like to talk about his age) and he is truly a rare find.

Dad isn’t what most people imagine when they think of stallions. He is one of the safest horses his mom owns and he has taken many a rider for their first time swimming. He even does this really cool haunted trail every year where he gets to jump out of the forest and chase people between the spooky sets! He’s had people run around him, punch him (terrible, right?!), scream in his face, and even shove their children under him before running away. Dad takes it all in stride and keeps his cool through all of it. He is also the only stallion allowed in to compete in our drill association and he solidly competes among mares and geldings alike without issue! I hope I can be as cool as he is when I grow up!

My mom is Thunder and she’s pretty great, too! Mom is Search and Rescue certified and will take you anywhere you need to go without batting a lash. She has a strange tendency to walk on the least convenient edge of trails, which sometimes means she walks on the edge of a cliff rather than on the flat ground on the other side of the trail. Mom was a maiden mare when she was pregnant with me, which means she had never had a baby before and no one knew how it would go.

Mom pushed the limits of everyone’s patience and sleep deprivation by taking me more than three months overdue! They started calling her “cow” and “heifer” a lot. In the end, she opted to have me in the rain, in the mud because she refused to lay anywhere clean or dry! Our people had to lay horse blankets out for her to have me on. I was a big boy then and am a big boy now!

Life stayed interesting for me. When it was time to wean, I was taken to a neighbor’s house to separate me from Mom. This was routine in the past but for some reason, the neighbor’s draft took issue with me being there. He broke through the fence and attacked me! He chased me all over the property, through fences, and I ended up severing my extensor tendon on my left hind leg. It was really scary!

That day, I was loaded in a trailer for the first time ever. They took Dad with to keep me calm on the ride to the emergency vet. Would you believe that I hopped right in?! I was a bit of a lightweight when the vet drugged me but they waited a good amount of time before putting me back in the trailer. Unfortunately, I passed out for unknown reasons when we were almost back home and when we got home, another neighbor and his dad had to help drag me out of the trailer. Of course, I stood right up as soon as I was on the ground!

My days after that were spent in a stall. I had my bandaged changed daily, which was MISERABLE, let me tell you. They were afraid to drug me much because of what had happened at the vet and in the trailer and I wouldn’t let them do my leg standing up (it hurt and I was scared!) Thankfully, my people had taught me to lie down on cue already so they had me lay down and they laid on top of me to hold me down while they treated my leg every day.

It was a really difficult period of recovery. It was expensive, exhausting, and stressful but my grandma is amazing and she did all the right things for me! In fact, usually the vet would not have sent me home as early as they did but they know my grandma and they know how awesome she is, so they were comfortable letting her handle everything.

The biggest concern wasn’t actually my tendon because those can reattach over time and because I’m young, I have a great healing capacity! The big concern was the possibility that my bone could have been damaged and that could result in dead bone. Depending on how much dead bone there was, it was possible that they would not have been able to save me.

So a few months after my injury, my friend Luca and I both went to the vet for check-ups. I got right in the trailer and out of the trailer at the vet, no problem! At the recheck, they did X-Rays...and discovered I had NO dead bone at all, not even a little! My people were shocked and amazed.

Going home, I got back in the trailer just fine. When we got home...well, I can’t really explain why but I could not bring myself to leave the trailer! It took my people around an hour to get me out. And wouldn’t you know that the only reason I got out was because I got tired and laid down...so they dragged me out again! Looking back on it now, I’m a little embarrassed that I was so scared of leaving the trailer that not even Dad could coax me out. I swear I’m a lot braver now!

Anyway, that’s some of my story and I’m just here to share my life as I continue growing! I turned a year old on June 24, 2017 and I’m already a big, big boy (thanks, Mom’s genes!) so I’ve got lots of growing to do and lots of learning to do!

See you later!

[snootysith]

The Mark of a Good Sith (1/?)

@fluffynexu This is way overdue. So overdue. 

Title: The Mark of a Good Sith Words: 4269 Fandom: Star Wars: The Old Republic Characters/(Pairings): Darth Vowrawn/Lord Cytharat, Darth Vowrawn/Darth Gravus, Lord Haresh, Overseer Harkun  Rating: Mature (for now) Warning: Age Difference (it’s huge), Power Imbalance (also huge), Vowrawn’s Ego (astronomical)  Summary: Darth Vowrawn spies promise in young Cytharat.  A/N: I haven’t dedicated this much effort in writing in actual years lmao but Vowrawn is worth it. I’m trying to pace myself and drop lines here and there to expand in future fics. Hopefully. Story under the cut.

Korriban was exceptionally frigid today.

Darth Vowrawn would call it bracing.

After having spent the last few hours rattling off the annual budget plan, he needed something to lift his spirits. The attendance of Dark Councilors tended to flounder this time of year. It was practically a holiday and he would have been happy to treat it as one himself if Darth Marr wasn’t so insufferably diligent.  

Always present, always punctual, and never asleep behind that mask. Definitely not. Never the great Darth Marr.

Vowrawn gave a snort, startling an acolyte who hadn’t noticed him standing in the shadow of the statue. Amused, he watched her bow her head and quicken her pace. Fifty years and the novelty still hadn’t rubbed off. He enjoyed the attention. It came with being a social magnet and not a terror like Ravage whose temper evoked hysteria more than deference.

Unseemly. Where was the panache?      

Vowrawn spotted sleek, silver hair bobbing up the steps. Why, here he was.

Vowrawn pressed himself closer to the statue and carefully blanketed his presence, waiting until his quarry passed him. He propelled forward. “Surprise!”

Darth Gravus didn’t so much as bat an eyelash as he latched to his arm. “Still beating that dead horse?”

“If it worked once…”

Gravus raised his eyes upwards praying for strength as Vowrawn cheerfully rattled on about their academy days-- how Gravus nearly gutted him like a fish the first time they crossed, how the overseers had to keep them in separate dorms following the incident, how the two of them had been rivals until a compromise was made inside a second-floor utility closet, and how the overseers had to keep them in separate dorms again for all the racket they made—

“Are you proposing we recreate our first time?” Gravus interrupted. “I’ll have to disappoint you. I can’t lift you up without killing my back.”

“Nothing so pedestrian,” Vowrawn huffed. “You could at least try to play along. I’ve had a dreadful day as is.”

“Ah, Darth Marr was in attendance again?”

“He’s doing it to spite me,” Vowrawn said peevishly. “He thinks I’m up to no good in my free time.”

It was truly a mark of their bond that Gravus made no attempt to take the bait. Disappointing.

“You never relax,” he replied. “Even when you sleep. Business is your pleasure. You capitalize your time and effort. Which begs the question: why else are you here?”

“Can’t a man spend time with his oldest and dearest friend?” Vowrawn asked innocently.  

Gravus gave him a long-suffering look.

Vowrawn chuckled and leaned heavily on his companion. “I’m in the market for a new apprentice if you must know,” he said.

Gravus’s mouth twitched. “As am I.”

“What are the chances! I hear there’s a promising batch of acolytes this month. I wanted a sneak peek.”

“What are the chances, indeed…” Gravus said, narrowing his eyes. “You still have Qet, don’t you? He could just as easily do this for you. There’s no reason to get your hands dirty.”

“I might as well stamp my name on his forehead,” Vowrawn drawled. “They all know who he serves. It’s counterproductive. Besides, I thought you could use the company.”

Gravus raised an eyebrow. “I should be so lucky.”

“How is dear Thana?” Vowrawn simpered. He gave Gravus’s hand a brief squeeze before those brown eyes could harden. “I’m only teasing.”

“She’ll be back,” Gravus said dismissively. “Until then, an extra pair of hands would not go amiss. I don’t have time or the appropriate people to run other operations.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Really?”

They stopped short in front of the ancient obelisk that dwarfed the room but they might as well have been standing beside rubble for all the attention they drew. Overseers and acolytes alike stared at them as they passed. Whether it was out of curiosity, awe, or fear it mattered not. No one, not even a fresh initiate, could be heedless of their power.

“You’ve always spoke so highly of Qet,” Gravus continued. “I thought he was more than capable.”

“He’ll never lack in enthusiasm,” Vowrawn said. “But I want someone with more finesse. More guile. Someone able to move about without riding any coattails. Chiefly, mine.”

“An assassin.”

“Of sorts.”

“A glorified errand boy.”

“You’re so sure it’s going to be a boy.”

“You have a track record. And a predisposition.”

Vowrawn pulled a face. “Sith in glass houses should not throw lightning.” With that, he broke away to head down the lower hallways.

“And just where are you going?” Gravus caught up to him and grabbed him by the elbow. “The acolytes are upstairs with Cestus.”

Vowrawn shook off his hand. “The academy has more than one room, you know.”

“There aren’t any ‘rooms’ where you’re going. Only slave pens.”

“Semantics.” “Slaves, aliens, and Harkun’s ilk.” Gravus sneered as though the words left a bad taste in his mouth. “They are not worthy of your time. You shouldn’t be seen with them.”

Ah, there it was. Rearing its ugly head again. Always so quick to discard diamonds in the rough.

Vowrawn made a dismissive noise. “By all means, head upstairs if the muck scares you. I have other robes and a strong stomach.”

He really ought to stop baiting the man but he wanted his company and a second opinion once they got around to reaching the training room.

Good student that he was, Vowrawn had done his homework before coming to the academy. The subject had changed but the principle was relatively the same. Analyzing class rosters, weighing each potential’s strengths and weaknesses, predicting the likelihood of improvement—he had done so in his youth to help cull his competition early. Now, it would help in preserving where it mattered.  

But numbers and secondhand information only painted broad strokes. Something like this required a deft hand, a critical eye, and—

Vowrawn paused briefly as he was hit with a potent smell of battle and musk.

— apparently, his nose too.

His interest only intensified when he slipped into the training room amidst the fracas of clashing vibroblades and curses. He leaned against the doorjamb right beside a ragged training dummy while Gravus lurked just out of sight near the doorway, clearly too proud to step further inside but apprehensive about letting Vowrawn out of his sight.

Darling man.

There was suddenly a ferocious snarl and Vowrawn was immediately drawn back to the other occupants in the room.  

A Zabrak with dusky orange skin and a web of black facial tattoos had launched himself at another acolyte, nearly toppling them both. The strength of his attack belayed his lanky form. There was no technique in his attacks just raw instinct. This clearly wasn’t his first fight though. His response to the other acolyte’s flurry of swings was almost immediate, weaving side to side, managing to dodge all attacks— save one.

The Zabrak stumbled back with another curse as the vibroblade landed a blow on his upper arm. Tricked by a clever little feint by a surprisingly proficient swordsman.

And, hello, what a dashing swordsman it was.  

Vowrawn’s nose twitched as he scented the air again. There was no missing a fellow Sith pureblood, especially one battered, bruised, and drenched in sweat. There were deep shadows beneath his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and long training hours but in the heat of the duel, those yellow eyes shone bright as gold.

His steps were more certain than the Zabrak’s, more practiced and quick, but there was a pattern to his movement. His eyes kept darting to the position of his blade, he constantly corrected his posture, and his lips moved soundlessly to form… encouragement? Or was he reciting instructions? Right foot forward, lunge, disengage, parry, advance, retreat, advance, advance.

The footwork did look pretty if one ignored how much ground he lost for it.    

“What is he doing here?” Gravus muttered. “Blood as blue as he is red… what is he trying to prove pitting himself against slaves?”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” Vowrawn said absently. His gaze remained fixed on the young Sith pureblood, admiring his lean but strong figure as he pressed another attack.

“Beg—oh.” Comprehension flickered in Gravus’s eyes as he reexamined the young Sith pureblood more closely. Tailored robes. Perfect posture. A fondness for jewelry.

Vowrawn’s eyes crinkled in amusement when Gravus gave him a sidelong look. Why, yes darling, the similarity was uncanny. It tickled his interest and, admittedly, his vanity too.

“A boy like that doesn’t accidentally find himself in a slave pen,” Gravus said slowly. “A fall from grace?”

“Oh, most certainly.”

“How far up?”

“Very.”

Gravus clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Politics.”

Vowrawn stifled a laugh and crossed his arms. “Politics,” he agreed. Such was the capricious life of the Sith aristocracy. Hosts of houses could be made and unmade over mere trifles. The pretense, the promises, the scandal—it always upset Gravus’s nouveau riche sensibilities. Ho hum.

It was disappointing but perhaps it was for the best. Politics, while entertaining, demanded the highest stakes for the greatest rewards and he was not ready to surrender his favorite just yet. He’d invested so much in him, after all. He had aged so well and was clever enough to keep him amused after all these years. Losing him would be a terrible waste.

The duel carried on a great deal longer. Neither acolytes would yield despite the toll it was taking on them. Their footwork became less steady, every swing seemed to shave a week off their very lifespan, and drawing breath was its own labor. So wrapped up in wearing each other down, they still had yet to even notice their audience. Incredible.

“That boy.” Gravus indicated the Sith pureblood with a raised chin. “Caught your eye, has he?”

Vowrawn raised his brow. “Perhaps.”

“I heard Malgus has designs on him already.”

Vowrawn finally tore his gaze away to give him an odd look. Darth “Gossip is For Spinsters” Gravus?

“You aren’t the only one who likes to know things,” Gravus said dryly. “Besides, do you really want to make an enemy of that man?”

Vowrawn smiled. “I love it when you fuss over me,” he said. “Have no fear. I know what I’m doing.”

He waited until the Zabrak pressed an advantage over the Sith pureblood, virtually throwing all his weight behind one last desperate attack. The Sith pureblood stumbled down to one knee, chest heaving, arms trembling, and he seemed to brace for a blow that would knock him clean out.

Which, no doubt, would have been his fate if Vowrawn hadn’t chosen that precise moment to loudly clear his throat.

The Zabrak gave a start and whirled around—only to trip on his opponent’s vibroblade and land face-first into the sweat soaked mat.

Gravus wrinkled his nose.

Vowrawn smothered his chuckle with a cough and scampered out the room, shoving lightly at Gravus to pick up the pace before the young Sith pureblood could catch sight of them.

It wasn’t until they were both entrenched in the second-floor library that Vowrawn allowed himself to laugh. “Well?”

“Well, what?”

“The boy.”

Gravus rubbed his chin as he mulled over this. “He’s pretty,” he said at length. He suddenly glanced at Vowrawn. “He looks like you when you were his age.”

Vowrawn’s lips quirked up into a playful smile. “You thought I was pretty?”

“There were other things that came to mind when I thought of you.”

“Disgusting,” Vowrawn crooned.  

Gravus smirked. “Truthfully,” he went on. “His pedigree is plain. He must have come out of preparatory school with high marks. If not, I wonder how he hasn’t choked on the silver spoon in his mouth yet. It must be small then if he’s still sorted with aliens. Politics. Everything to lose and little to gain. But then…” He gave Vowrawn a sidelong look. “You already know all this, don’t you?”

Vowrawn only smiled.

“Is this you testing my good sense again?” There was a touch of annoyance in his voice. “Or do you really intend to make the boy your apprentice?”

“Perhaps.” If anything, the demonstration today also kindled an interest in the Zabrak but Vowrawn kept that thought safely to himself. Gravus had a limit in tolerating his eccentricities.

“What is his name? The boy.”

“Cytharat.” More a title than a name. Much like Vowrawn had inherited his from his own father.

Gravus wrinkled his nose. “My condolences.”

“It’s from the Old Tongue. It’s lovely.”

“As I’m sure you’ll describe ‘it’ once you’re through with him.”

“Cestus is calling,” Vowrawn huffed. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Gravus answered with a knowing smirk before departing. Vowrawn chalked this up as a tie.

Despite all the unsavory rumors of his private life, he seldom dabbled with men as young as Cytharat. Youth had its advantages but when it came to romance, they tended to fall in love too easily and it was more trouble than it was worth disentangling from them. Qet was evidence enough of that.

But that wasn’t to say he couldn’t indulge himself once in awhile.

With a little skip in his step, Darth Vowrawn made his way back downstairs, acolytes scattering in his wake.

--

Cytharat held Harkun’s stare in the thundering silence that followed.

He had already taken a sound beating in the training room. His pride could withstand a little more.

After dragging themselves to the nearest refreshers to scrub off the worse of the grime, he and Haresh were immediately summoned to Harkun’s office. More acolytes had huddled in the closed space before but their numbers had dwindled in a matter of weeks. Now it had come down to just four of them.

Haresh was a formidable rival, more so because he prevailed despite the deck stacked against him, and Cytharat respected him for it. The feeling was not mutual. Harkun had seen fit to drive a wedge between them at every turn. He was intent upon driving Haresh into the ground and considered Cytharat’s predicament with little more than a sneer.

There was no honor in being handed someone else’s accolades but Harkun had done so time and time again. It wasn’t even out of favoritism so much as ease. Cytharat just happened to be the nearest receptacle. He had tried to explain it to Haresh once the Zabrak had dragged himself out of the lower wilds.

Haresh had glowered at him. “You never turned them down.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

Haresh’s laugh was devoid of humor. “Right, because you know how that feels more than me.”

No. They’d never be friends.

The Sith Academy was a treacherous path to navigate alone. Cytharat endured but he had his limits.

Haresh was stone-faced as Harkun’s hurled insults at him, while Cytharat stood to the side watching with a tired detachment.

“—any wonder why I have to suffer when you can’t amount to anything more than an animal,” Harkun snapped. “Even against the lowest Sith, you fail. What good is being an animal if you can’t even hold your own against a few swats—”

“No.” Cytharat could not stomach the indignity.

A terrible hush fell upon the room.

Haresh was giving him an odd look. Harkun had gone tightlipped with anger as he suddenly turned to glare at him.

“No,” Cytharat said in a low voice. “Haresh would have won.”

Harkun’s eyes narrowed. “Modesty will get you nowhere.”

“It is a fact.”

“Then it is a wretched lie. Are you a liar, boy, or just a fool?”

An insult sat heavily on Cytharat’s tongue. It pressed tight behind his teeth. He need only open his mouth.

Harkun stared into his face expectantly. “Well?”

Cytharat stared back at his overseer and felt his disapproval bake on his skin. Foolish. One step to completing his trials. One step to breaking free of the humiliation. He had inherited a legacy of soul crushing shame, what was a little more? It was only temporary and—and mother. To disappoint her would… to have come so far, to have sacrificed what favors they had left for nothing—  

Cytharat lowered his eyes and swallowed.

Harkun’s smugness was almost palpable. “I thought so.” He turned his back to him. “Spineless like your old man.”

Oh no.

Bile rose in his throat. “And are you spineless, overseer, or just a fool?”

Harkun went ramrod straight as though he were hit with a bolt of lightning. He turned back ever so slowly, his eyes brimming with murder. “What did you say to me?” he whispered.

Mother was going to skin him alive. “Haresh would have won,” Cytharat said. “He is strong, he has potential to be Sith, he is an asset. We stand to gain nothing from squandering power.”

“You dare tell me how to do my own job, acolyte?”

“Someone must.”

Harkun reddened. His knuckles audibly popped as his hands curled into fists.

Cytharat resolutely held his gaze and braced for the brunt of his rage. He was only distantly aware of Haresh stepping to the side. Out of firing range.

Smart.

His tongue swiped out to wet his cracked lips. He wondered if his punishment would be greater if he threw up his own protective barrier.

The tension was thick and crackled with energy—or perhaps that was just the lightning between Harkun’s fingers.

There was suddenly a smattering of applause.

Harkun glanced towards the doorway and his face fell. The tension bled from his body and he seemed to curl inwards. He was as pale as a sheet, looking for all the world like a lost child.  

There was no time to relish the moment. Not when Cytharat’s own mind stalled when he turned around to look at their visitor.

“D… Darth…” Harkun seemed only capable of wheezing.

“Darth Vowrawn…” Cytharat breathed.

The elderly Sith leaned against the doorway with a crooked smile. He wiggled a few fingers at them in a half-hearted wave. “Have you considered being an actor?” He smiled at Cytharat. “Playing martyr wins you many hearts.”

--

No. The novelty had definitely not worn off.

Harkun’s face alone could cheer him up for several rainy days.

The Zabrak—Haresh— looked at him warily but uncomprehendingly. An fresh, off-world slave, no doubt, if his name invoked such little reaction.

Ah, but Cytharat recognized him in an instant. Interesting.

“So sorry for the intrusion,” Vowrawn said. “All the excitement piqued my curiosity. It is always a pleasure to see an acolyte take his education so seriously, no?”

“As you say, my lord,” Harkun said weakly.

“Might I borrow him?”

Harkun’s mouth audibly clicked shut and he glanced back and forth between Vowrawn and Cytharat. Did the man have the stomach to swallow all that pride and answer a smile with a smile?

A grin—a grimace really—split Harkun’s face. Close enough. “He is yours, Dark Lord. May you find him as agreeable as I do.” Well, well. Bold move, overseer.

Vowrawn’s gaze drifted to Cytharat’s bald faced astonishment and then briefly on Haresh.

Resentment bled from the Zabrak like an open, festering wound but he wore his mask well enough. Such potential there, too. Quiet and insidious and familiar to Vowrawn as his own limb.

“This won’t take long,” Vowrawn said once Cytharat fell into step. “As I’m sure you’re eager to join the fray again. I take it introductions are unnecessary?”

“I… yes, Darth Vowrawn. It is an honor.”

“The honor is entirely mine, dear boy,” Vowrawn purred. “I am rarely afforded the time to mingle with acolytes but it is always refreshing to find one with such passion and avant-garde. Between you and me…” He lowered his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “The empire could stand to have more of you.”

The young Sith cracked a smile and Vowrawn counted it a victory.

He led them further down the hall and into to the academy’s cantina—empty, always curiously empty— where they settled comfortably on a couch. Or he did anyway.

Cytharat carefully put distance between them and kept his spine perfectly straight. He kept his eyes lowered, deferential and attentive, while Vowrawn’s mouth started running on autopilot.

Such a dutiful, well-mannered son of the empire.

A dime a dozen. How droll.

Where was the initiative he saw?

Cytharat chuckled softly at something he said and—

What was he saying? “—cient history, of course. You should thank your stars Overseer Ragate only administers the rite. The mortality rate of Sith purebloods increased under her tutelage no thanks to me.” Gossip. Hmph. Gravus was right. He could write an entire series of holomagazines.

“You know, it’s positively criminal that we haven’t been acquainted yet,” Vowrawn said abruptly.

Cytharat blinked the glaze from his eyes. “We have met before. Once.”

“Oh? I’m afraid I don’t remember.”

“I was only a boy then,” Cytharat said. “It was at a party celebrating Darth Ananta’s sixtieth birthday.”

Vowrawn stifled a laugh. His dear aunt had been celebrating her sixtieth birthday for almost four decades now. He’d be hard pressed to pick one face from swarming partygoers—not least because he’d been blind drunk more often than not.

“Cytharat, Cytharat, Cytharat…” Vowrawn hummed as he racked his brain. The name had come attached to someone that was certainly not a child then. Someone of note. Someone he had bothered to remember, fuzzy outline notwithstanding.

His eyes drew to the intricate gold bar clamped to the bridge of his nose. There were stories in the bits and baubles a Sith pureblood wore and it was a mark of pride that Cytharat stubbornly kept his.

Trying his best not to ogle, Vowrawn managed to translate bits of the High Sith he could decipher—something, something, valor and honor and… “to live is to serve”… the empire? No, that term represented a more abstract concept—ah! “the greater good”.

Yes… he’d heard that before. Not spoken at him precisely but… whispered against his skin. He remembered the brandy fogging up the air between two bodies. Hands clumsily navigating through robes while he laughed, head full of fluff, at how clever this man was calling him his greater good while he sank to his knees, pulled down his trousers, and—  

Oh. Oh.

“Yes…” Vowrawn dragged the word out into two syllables. His eyes flicked away from Cytharat’s jewelry. “That’s right. Your… father was there.” Doing very unfatherly things in dark corners.

“You knew my father well?” Cytharat asked, giving a start.

Vowrawn regarded him with a tight smile. “We were well-acquainted, he and I.”

“I see.”

“Surprised?”

Cytharat’s eyes dimmed. “My father was dedicated to his work. He was a man of solitude who lived as he died in glorious servitude to the Empire. I am honored to carry on his legacy. Acquaintances were… rare.” There was as much passion and candor in his voice as a loaf of bread. He might as well have been reciting a dictionary. His father must have been a complete stranger to him.

A terrible shame. Such raw intellect and strength deserved to be honed by the best. Cytharat should never be left wanting.

“Socializing with the unsociable happens to be a gift of mine,” Vowrawn said. “Perks of being an extrovert.”

“As you say, my lord.”

Oh dear. He hit a nerve.

“Forgive me but I should return to my training.” Cytharat suddenly rising to his feet. “My trials…”

“Of course, of course. You’ve more important business than listening to an old man natter the day away.”

Cytharat looked utterly thunderstruck. “My lord, you more than that. You stand amongst the greatest Sith. You are a pillar of the empire. It is wisdom you speak and it is honor that I feel in attending to you. I am yours. I am—”

Vowrawn pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him before he could draw breath.

Mmph. He could stand to hear that in a more private setting.  

“I think I can squeeze you in somewhere,” the older Sith purred and pressed a kiss to the corner of Cytharat’s mouth.

Cytharat’s eyes went comically wide and his mouth moved soundlessly for a minute.

Vowrawn watched him carefully, patiently waiting to see how his message would be received.

Another minute passed and Cytharat remained unresponsive.

With a heavy sigh, Vowrawn rose to his feet to leave but a hand suddenly closed around his wrist.

Bemused, he looked at Cytharat who immediately let go of him and clasped his arms behind his back.

“If… if you will have me, my lord,” he mumbled.

Vowrawn chuckled.

The young man beat a hasty retreat to the door and Vowrawn waited until he was out of sight before he followed, a skip in his step. He was pass the door when someone behind him spoke.

“‘Well-acquainted’? Is that what you call it now?”

Vowrawn tipped his head down with a smirk. “It’s poor etiquette to tell someone you’ve fornicated with their father,” he said without turning.

“I would have told him.”

Vowrawn laughed and faced his companion. "Of course you would. You’re beastly.”

Gravus’s lip curled and he pushed away from the wall. “Going to send him a dinner invitation?”

“You’re not invited,” Vowrawn retorted.

“Yet.”

Vowrawn held his knowing look for all of five seconds before he relented with a smile. “Yet,” he amended. For now, Cytharat was his and his alone to enjoy. Nothing stimulated intellect like a generously spiced meal.

And if the night took them out of the dining room and into his bedchamber…

Well.

It wouldn’t be the first time he served dessert there.

[sage-nebula]

Ohhhhh boy. So I’ve seen all of the memories now (save for the ones associated with the Divine Beast of the Gorons), and let me tell you, I am having emotions. I’m going to go ahead and place this under an actual cut in addition to all of the spoiler tags, because I anticipate that it’s going to be rather long, and it’s also going to be extremely spoiler heavy due to the fact that I’m going to use this post to talk about Zelda (and her relationship with Link) overall.

So, I am going to say this to get it out of the way: I think that it might have been better to view each of the memories in order, to see Zelda’s relationship with Link play out in a natural progression. I didn’t do this; because the nearest memory to Kakariko is the memory where Calamity Ganon returns (photo #11), I started off near the end and then just kind of hopped around depending on where I was at the time. Because of this, I think that I saw Zelda’s relationship with Link not progress as much as I saw it remain really bad for most of the game, until I finally started to patch in some of the memories that showed them actually interacting on close / friendly terms, and becoming friends.

Regardless, though, even though I saw the memories out of order, I don’t think it’s negatively impacted my perception of Zelda’s character / their relationship too much (and these things are intertwined, because even though Zelda is a well fleshed out character, Link isn’t, and so his characterization is dependent largely on his relationship with Zelda---a nice inversion from how these things typically go). In fact, quite honestly, I don’t feel as if my perception of Zelda’s character / their relationship is negative at all, mostly because there are some memories sprinkled in there that show them on friendlier terms, that show that they’ve grown closer, that they care about one another. I will admit; when I was triggering memory after memory of Zelda resenting Link and pushing him away, I was pretty firmly on the “nah, I don’t ship this at all” boat. But now that I’ve seen that there were times when they were on better terms . . . yeah, I ship it, and I actually think that this might be my favorite rendition of their relationship yet, topping both Wind Waker and Skyward Sword.

The thing that I like about the Link and Zelda of this game is that their relationship has a lot of development. Wind Waker’s relationship had some development as well, given that Link and Tetra didn’t start off on the best of terms (the opposite, really), and they had to come to trust and care for each other over the course of the game (even though we didn’t get to see them developing this trust; rather, we just saw that they had it at various checkpoints throughout the game when we got to see them interact again). Skyward Sword’s relationship didn’t have a lot of development since they were childhood sweethearts and cared for each other from the start (and then barely interacted throughout the game because Zelda was always gone), though there was a bit of conflict on Zelda’s end when she realized who she truly was and that she had potentially, even if inadvertently, manipulated Link into caring for her (though the line, “I’m still your Zelda” gets me in the heart every time). But even with that spice of added conflict, and even though Link and Tetra didn’t get on very well at first, the relationships were still pretty simplistic at their core. That’s not necessarily a bad thing---they were still enjoyable---but I feel that there wasn’t a lot of depth to them, all the same.

I feel differently about Link and Zelda in Breath of the Wild. To be fair, there is still so much that is missing; Nintendo could only give us a handful of flashbacks, which means that there were so many days (/weeks / months) that they simply couldn’t show us. To get around this, they showed us snapshots from different points in their relationship, and gave us enough in characterization (again, mostly from Zelda’s end) to allow us to fill in the blanks. We do get a little bit of characterization from Link; we learn that he’s following in his father’s footsteps when it comes to being a knight. We learn that he’s pretty sure about this path (or at least, that Zelda feels that Link is pretty sure about this path). We learn that he cares for animals (horses in particular), and that he’s the one to advise Zelda on how to bond with hers. But for the most part we get characterization from Zelda, and how she reacts to his presence and the situation in general tells us a lot about their relationship. It allows us to fill in the blanks, particularly given whatever personality we’ve decided on for Link as we play through the game. (My Link is still a lot more . . . well. The audio from this video sums up what I imagine Link’s personality / experiences to be as I play through this game. Seriously, that’s my Link right there. Note that there is a photosensitivity warning at 0:21 in that video, so if you’re actually watching, be wary of that!) And considering the fact that there’s no possible way they could have shown us everything without having the game focus on the part of history that led to Hyrule’s downfall instead (and have the game end on a Downer Ending as a result), I think that was the right choice to make. By showing us a selection of moments from different points in their relationship, we can see the nuances that they had---we can see how they grew as individuals, and how they came together as a pair. We can see how their relationship developed naturally over time, which makes it feel more realized than previous incarnations of Link and Zelda.

And what’s interesting about this to me is that they didn’t have to do it. Particularly since Link was Zelda’s personal knight in this game, they could have easily gone the “well, they get along great, he’s the knight and she’s the princess, of course they’re a perfectly matched pair” route. No one would have batted an eye, because at this point that’s kind of expected. But they opted not to do that. Instead, we know that Link has been training to be a knight for his entire life, and we know that he ends up appointed as Zelda’s personal knight. But because Zelda has so much characterization to her, she doesn’t simply accept this. It’s not that she hates the idea, per se, but it’s that she has a will and mind of her own and doesn’t always want a personal guard following her around. It’s that she sees that Link’s destiny has accepted him, and she resents him for that, because hers is still evading her at every turn. It’s that she feels insecure about her place in the world, it’s that she wants something different than what she’s supposed to have, but she can’t even content herself with what she’s supposed to have because no matter how hard she works at it, she can’t unlock that power, and yet everything comes so naturally for the knight that has to follow her everywhere. We see her resent him, we see her grow frustrated and irate with him, we see her insecurities brought to light because of him, we see him comfort her at her lowest moments, we see that he has given her advice and that she’s a bit playful with it, we see her happily spending time with him before her father comes to ruin everything (seriously, he was just as much of a dick in life as he was in death, and no one is surprised). 

I’m not being very eloquent about this because it’s nearly 5 AM and I’m very tired, but what I’m driving at here is that by showing us scenes such as Zelda trying to drive Link away, but also scenes where she’s trying to get him to eat a live frog---by showing us scenes where she’s officially knighting him with the same attitude she would use to read his eulogy, but also scenes where they’re peacefully riding their horses and she’s cheekily talking about making her horse earn the royal adornments---we get to see that Link and Zelda’s relationship was not always easy. She resented him, but no doubt there was a time when Link himself resented the fact that he was the appointed knight for a princess that seemed to hate his guts and wanted nothing to do with him. I mean, it’s not fun to follow someone around who clearly does not want you there, especially if you want to respect the boundaries she’s trying to set but can’t because the king could literally have you executed for disobeying. And it can’t be easy to listen to Zelda cry and be upset over the fact that her powers won’t awaken when there’s nothing you can say to ease those insecurities or that pain, because you can’t make the powers awaken and saying “it’ll be okay” sounds hollow when the fate of the entire kingdom literally rests on whether or not she can do it. As much as Zelda resented and didn’t want to be around Link at times, I’m positive that he often felt the same way about her, but did so because he had to, because it was his job (and we see how seriously he took his job in his body language---how he stood at attention at the door with his back turned to her as she prayed in the Spring of Power (and only turned toward her when she started to cry), how he immediately dropped to his knees when the King entered in the palace memory, et cetera). But although their relationship was not always easy, although they were not always on the best of terms, they did get there. Slowly but surely, they got there, even though I’m sure they still had their bad days here and there. And I think that this adds a few layers of complexity and realism to their relationship---it makes them feel more like two people rather than just two characters and it’s a very welcome take on their relationship.

But of course, all things come to an end. Aside from the scene from the trailers where Zelda falls to pieces because everything has gone to Hell and she blames herself for it (and I wish so badly that they had hired a better English voice actress for Zelda, because although I could tell that this one was trying very, very hard, she just could not cut it), the memory you get after unlocking all the rest---the one where Zelda’s power finally awakens, when the Triforce finally flares to life on the back of her hand---really got to me, emotionally, for a number of reasons:

It was the Guardians. It was the fucking Guardians. Of course it was the motherfucking Guardians that killed Link. I swear to god these Guardians are basically like the Hyrulean equivalent of the Daleks, except they don’t shout “EX-TER-MIN-ATE!” before they try to kill him. (They also can’t have Sass Offs the way Daleks can, which is a shame, because sassy Daleks are amazing.) It really adds an entirely new layer of terror to the Guardians, I feel, given how many of them there are in that scene, how badly Link is wounded, all of the lightning and the rain, and the fact that one was staring him down right before Zelda shoved him out of the way and her power awakened. My Link has already encountered Guardians plenty of times by the time he remembers this (and has killed a couple of them as well), but I feel like recovering his memory of being murdered by them---or at least, very nearly murdered by them---has to instill a new wave of fear inside him, or at least explain the gut instinct of “no no no no no bad bad bad run run run” that he had upon first spotting one. Like, imagine that he probably had a panic attack when he first saw one---even a dormant one---and didn’t understand why. Now he knows. Now he remembers. Now he understands. This doesn’t make it any easier.

We really see the Spirit of the Hero flare inside Link in this scene. Link is basically dead on his feet. He can barely stand. Zelda is telling him to run because she can tell that he’s about to die. But does he run? No. Of course he fucking doesn’t. Link pushes himself to his feet through sheer will and determination because the Spirit of the Hero is an indomitable will. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t quit. He won’t until the last gasp of air leaves his lungs and his heart gives out on him. That’s what being the Hero is all about, and we see that in Link as he continues to face down the Guardians, fighting to his last breath, refusing to let them kill Zelda. Link doesn’t give up. The concept of giving up just isn’t in him. If it was, he wouldn’t be the Hero. He wouldn’t have been reborn with that Spirit inside him. Being the Hero isn’t about wielding the Master Sword or opening shrines, not really. It’s about having that unbreakable, unwavering Determination. Link has it, and this flashback---this one in specific---showed it, and I love it.

We also came to see how much Zelda has come to cherish Link in this scene. I do think that part of her desperation for him to run and not die is due in part to the fact that the other Champions have died, her father has died, Hyrule has all but fallen and Link is all she has left. I do think that there is a part of Zelda that just didn’t want to lose him too, on top of losing everyone else. But I think that there’s also a part of her that just didn’t want to lose him period. Again, we’ve seen flashbacks where they’re friends, where they’ve come to care for each other. I don’t think they were actually romantically involved (though I do ship them---more on this at the end of the post if I remember it), and I’m not even saying that her feelings for him were romantic in nature at all. But just because she’s not in love with him doesn’t mean that she doesn’t care about him, and I think it’s more than obvious that she does. She shoves him out of the way and nearly takes the hit herself because she doesn’t want him to die. She rushes to his side and cradles him in her arms because she doesn’t want to lose him. And as much as part of this might be because she just doesn’t want to lose the one person she has left, I do think she genuinely cared about him for him and didn’t want to lose him, and that hit me pretty hard, emotionally (especially considering some of the earlier memories where she just . . . really wanted him to go away and leave her alone).

And then, honestly, the most important part of this whole scene: FI. FI. FI. FI!!!!!!!! Like, we don’t actually get to see her or hear her speak, but the Master Sword flashes multiple times, Zelda hears a voice we don’t, and most importantly, what we do here? That chime. That chime when the Sword flashed---that was Fi’s chime, that was Fi trying to communicate with Zelda to tell her how to save Link’s life, I’m fucking sobbing all over the place, crying my heart out, because I love Fi so much and that’s not just an ambiguous nod toward her, that’s showing that she is damn well conscious within the Master Sword even if she can’t actually manifest. I’m not getting my hopes up that she will actually make a concrete appearance, I know she probably won’t, but I would actually probably cry for real if she did (rather than just having my heart weep while I claim to be crying). My entire fucking heart weeps for Fi and she actually got to be the one to help Zelda pull it together long enough to tell her Sheikan attendants to take Link to the Shrine of Resurrection. Asdfsagdsa;fda Fiiiiiii ;___; ♥

At this point I’ve been told that it’s now time for me to go defeat Ganon, but it’s actually not because I haven’t awoken the final Divine Beast yet (oops). Oh well, it’ll be time for Ganon soon. In the meanwhile, I do have to say this:

After viewing all the memories, as I said above, I have come to ship the Link and Zelda of this game---but that said, I don’t think they were romantically involved prior to Link’s near-death and induction in the Shrine of Resurrection, and I’m not even entirely sure that their feelings for each other were romantic (or rather . . . I think they were, but that neither of them had really realized it because they had way too much else going on). I think it’s a bit more complicated than that, that they cared for each other incredibly deeply, that they had a very strong bond forged not only of the days they spent together that were calmer, but because of everything they had fought through together in their (failed) efforts to stop Calamity Ganon. (And you could say that the fact that Zelda has a telepathic connection with Link says a lot, but it actually doesn’t, because the scion of the goddess very often has a telepathic connection with the Hero. We see this in both Ocarina of Time and A Link to the Past, for example. I think that comes more with how they’re joined together in the Cycles than their relationship as individuals, especially since they had never previously met in LttP and barely knew each other in OoT when those connections took place.) So they weren’t romantically involved, they didn’t realize they had feelings for each other, but they did realize that they cared for one another deeply. Depending on how the game ends, I think there’s a real possibility they could end up realizing their feelings, thus deciding to be together as a result. I still think it would take time for them to become reacquainted with one another again, to calm down from everything that happened, to strengthen their relationship and just spend time together, but I think that it definitely could happen and that they have a multi-layered foundation to build a relationship on. Again, their relationship has nuance, and we actually saw it develop naturally rather than just having it slot into designated relationship points. I think it’s incredibly appealing as a result.

(And note: I still really like Link/Tetra and SS!Link/Zelda, and I’m definitely not saying that relationships need a certain amount of contention and drama to be interesting. Far from it. I’m just saying that I feel as if both Link/Tetra and SS!Link/Zelda were a bit under-developed, and that BotW!Link/Zelda is an improvement on this. The issue with SS!Link/Zelda is not that they were childhood sweethearts; the issue is more that we were told that they were childhood sweethearts, and that we didn’t get to see very much of the two of them interacting before the plot kicked in full force. With BotW, we see different stages of their relationship, different moments that flesh them out and define them as characters and make them feel more real. It’s these nuances which make it better to me, more than the fact that there was a time when they didn’t really get along very well. Tl;dr: It’s not the conflict I’m looking for, it’s the development / depth, and I think that BotW!Link/Zelda has the best development out of any iteration of these characters so far. They actually showed us the slow burn for once, and as a lover of slow burns, I love this more than I can eloquently say at 5:30 AM when I am this tired.)